AN: This is gonna be an emotional one, friends! TW for talk about suicidal ideation and even more of Harry's trichotillomania. Keep reading to the end and you and the boys get a nice reward for their suffering, I promise.
Chapter 9: Hands Up
The music box played its familiar tune, scales of chimes and plucks of string, with a charmed clock in the center that read seven o'clock in the morning.
Harry was stirred from sleep early for the first time in Draco's bed. He frowned, burrowing deeper into Draco's chest. The 'vacation' had to end eventually.
During this week away from the world, peace came so easily when he slept with Draco it was almost scary. The depth of his sleep gave him vivid dreams, and for the first time they weren't nightmares. That was concerning all in itself as well, since Harry knew this lack of night terrors meant a big one was coming up.
That was a problem for future Harry, though, because sleeping in such a regulated, restful fashion had changed his whole outlook. With meals to mark the morning, afternoon, and night, Harry was on a schedule again, like at Hogwarts but this time he was training in something darker than magic.
He made a sad little noise, realizing that this chiming tune meant Draco was being taken from him. It would only be a workday's worth of time but that felt too long right now in the nascent state of their relationship.
"I know, I know," Draco murmured, stroking Harry's hair as he too rose from a deep slumber. Sex before sleep always made the night better in Draco's not-so-humble medical opinion. It did a body good, working out with someone like that, two hearts pumping and bodies moving in tandem. It was an excellent source of cardio, and released a wash of chemicals like dopamine when done right.
"But Daddy has to go to work, honey," Draco went on, kissing Harry's scar as he'd taken to doing. "There's plenty to do or not do here, and you can go wherever you want now that we've gotten you Floo and apparation access to the grounds. Why don't you take a bath, treat yourself to a spa day?"
Draco rose to sitting, rubbing his closed eyes with his fists for a moment before reaching for his wand and turning off the music box with a swish.
"I'll see," Harry shrugged and sank back into the pillows. He might just stay here all day, breathing in Draco's scent and feeling listless.
Preventing a frown, Draco smiled. "You can do anything you like. I'll be back for dinner at six." He didn't want Harry moping around like he did in his apartment and had left a number of things around the house conspicuously placed so Harry might take interest in some kind of activity.
"And I'm cooking," Harry reminded Draco per their agreement the previous evening. Cooking for Draco was a world away from cooking bland food for the Dursleys because for starters Draco's palette was wider. He couldn't handle much spice, which Harry found hilarious, but still took culinary risks in spite of his delicate Caucasian palette.
At least there was that, Draco used to assure himself that his submissive wouldn't be too forlorn without him, Harry taking an interest in the kitchen. "I look forward to what you come up with," Draco replied, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and springing up, fully nude with a few love bites on his right shoulder from Harry.
Harry looked on the marks and felt calmer, more prepared for the day.
Silence and indecision lingered in the air for Harry while Draco took his morning shower, a fast one before he emerged in his white robes. Draco looked so fetching in white.
"Hey," Harry said, sitting up at the edge of the bed. He winced, bum still sore from the previous evening. "Um, have a good day at work, okay?" Was that what he was supposed to say? The upturn of the corners of Draco's lips seemed to indicate it well. "I'll miss you but I'll be fine."
"Harry Potter will miss me," Draco said aloud, helping Harry to his feet with both hands clasped around his. "That's never going to get old."
Harry rolled his eyes fondly and opened his mouth to snark back at him before his lips were covered in Draco's. At once Harry's shoulders relaxed and he leaned forward, returning the kiss tenderly in spite of the pain in his arse. "I'll be thinking of you—how could I not be when you have me walking so funny?" Harry teased when they parted for breath.
"If I recall correctly you were the one begging for it, 'pleeeease, Daddy, pleeeeeeease'," Draco imitated.
"Hey!" Harry said back, giving Draco's own arse a pinch through his robes. "I do not sound like that."
"Sure, Harry. Whatever helps you sleep at night after I fuck you senseless."
"That is what helps me sleep at night," Harry laughed, and Draco laughed too, the pair leaning into one another.
"So you slept well? No nightmares?" Draco was concerned Harry might hide them from him out of embarrassment or shame, two things that were fun in bed but outside of it—not so much.
Harry shook his head. "None yet. They'll come," he murmured. "But, until then… I'm really happy you have this job, and proud of you for how many people you've helped—saved even. I'll be here for you when you get back, Daddy."
Draco kissed him again because how could he not when he said such sweet, genuine things? Using his title melted Draco's heart and stirred something in his gut but he ignored it as best he could. He put his hand on Harry's cheek. "Daddy will be back before you know it. Then we can do whatever you want after our dinner, just us two."
"I'd like that."
"Remember, you may be my kept man but you're living for you and only you. Put yourself first today. Goodbye, darling." Draco gave Harry one last peck on the mouth before turning and heading for the door feeling like he could take on a giant today. Harry made him feel strong, and important, and wanted—and after that little pre-work pep talk Harry had Draco feeling invincible.
"Goodbye, Daddy."
Harry watched him walk away with a feeling of dread, like he might never see him again, and even though he knew it was irrational it scared him. The moment Draco was out of the room Harry crawled back into bed, wrapped in the sheets of their lovemaking so he could breathe them in deep, clinging to the ghost of Draco Malfoy like he had long before this arrangement. Six o'clock couldn't come fast enough.
Draco bid his patient farewell and wished them better luck on the Quidditch field—had that been a new record on number of broken bones Draco had seen in one person? He pondered it as he strolled the hall, on his way to a well-deserved break in his office.
Standing outside of it, though, was a nervous-looking intern twiddling his thumbs.
"You've, um," began the intern. Which one was he? Short, scrawny, was he Jeremy or Blake? Bleremy? No, that wasn't right. "Well, first things first, welcome back, Healer Malfoy."
Draco raised a suspicious brow. Who put this poor boy up to speaking to him? Draco looked around but no interns were standing behind him giggling like they did when they made the new students talk to the 'scary ex-Death Eater' and ask stupid questions. "Thank you," Draco said and looked expectantly for whatever was to follow.
"You've got a patient! Room 204. She's really intent on seeing you now. Right now."
"I don't recall having anyone on the second floor today," Draco frowned.
"She's asking for you by name, really insistent."
Draco's frown deepened when he realized he wasn't getting his break now. "Fine," he huffed. "Thank you, then, and get on your way."
The intern scampered off looking over his shoulder like Draco might chase him. Draco, rolling his eyes, did not. What he did do was turn on his heel towards the stairs past medi-witches escorting a group of children through the hospital. Thankfully none recognized him for he hadn't been in the papers for a hot minute.
They might soon, Draco thought bitterly to himself, if anyone found out who was hiding out in his Manor and what they were getting up to. There were few people he could trust with this secret.
Pansy would drag it out of him eventually, he supposed, but Draco would be lying if he said he hadn't been avoiding her all day for that very reason. She knew him too well, and Draco feared she might see his Potter-fucking smugness a mile away. It was too specific an emotion for her to miss.
Draco walked past the poison wing and towards the general patients section of the second floor. There were some patients from the past that could have asked for him by name, but how had they known to send the intern after him?
"Healer," Draco announced outside of room 204 with a knock to the door.
"Please," came an elderly voice, strangely scratchy. "Come in."
Draco entered and closed the door behind him. "I'm told you asked for me by name, what seems to be the—" Draco turned around to see none other than Pansy Parkinson sitting pretty on his patient slab. "Merlin's balls, Pansy."
"You were avoiding me!"
"I was not avoiding you," Draco lied poorly.
Pansy gave her best pout, arms crossed. "I'm hurt, really, that you would not want to see me."
"So hurt you scared that poor intern half to death?"
"I was just having a little fun with him," Pansy waved off. "But more important than little Bleremy is the man I know you spent the week with. What's his name? What's he like in the sack, and how big?"
"You are such a classic romantic," Draco deadpanned.
"By the beard of Salazar Slytherin, are you falling for him? Are you romancing him? Draco, if you don't tell me everything right now, I am going to lose my mind!" Pansy's voice was rising in excitement and it was getting a lot harder for Draco now—she was really happy for him. Draco's resolve was weak with how sappy Harry had him feeling.
"It was you who told me to contact him," Draco admitted with a small, shy smile. Pansy was a stalwart friend and Slytherin, so maybe if he didn't use Harry's name... "He was the one I was thinking of."
"I love being right," Pansy sighed adoringly towards herself before returning her attention to Draco. "Okay, so, what was the first meeting like? What about the first time? Come on, give me something, I'm dying here."
Draco pursed his lips in a tight smile. Yes, he could talk about the date, perhaps… Ah! This was how she always got him! "Well, I'll have you know I took him on a date. Bar to meet, then tailor to a tailor to get him a decent suit—"
"Your one in Diagon Alley?"
"No, the closest muggle one. He was skilled, trust me. Then we went to a dessert place, and then…" Draco paused for dramatic effect. "Back to my place. And from there we spent the week together."
Pansy absolutely lit up, hands coming together clasped. "He saw the Manor?"
"It's where we spent the week, so, yes. He knows who I am, what I've done, and all that." Draco knew that was what she meant by her emphasis on his home. It was Malfoy Manor, the site of horrific atrocities that haunted wizardingkind still. "More importantly he knows what I do now, which is heal. I hope you know this is taking time away from patients."
"Oh, no, I actually am your patient today. I only ask for the best after all, darling. Now, could you take a look at this rash?" she unzipped her knee-high boot and pointed.
Draco took a measured sigh. "And I assume you're going to interrogate me the entire time?"
"Oh, absolutely."
He snapped on his gloves and cracked his neck. He could do this—he just had to keep Harry's name and details out of it. "Then let's begin."
Harry wanted to use the excuse that he was recovering from the best sex of his life and therefore deserved to rest the bruises that came with it, but something he'd said on that first night crept up on him. Harry had said he wanted to earn his keep in the home, too. The Manor needed a lot of work, but what was done was impeccable.
It took a couple of hours of lazing about in bed pondering for Harry to come upon a decision. That decision was that if he lay here any longer the pile of hair he was pulling out would become a mountain, so he needed to leave immediately.
He would start his exploration outside first, in the empty gardens.
He gathered up his boxers from the night before and put them on. He could technically be naked here with how Draco had warded anyone but the two of them from entering, but the expansive halls inspired some shame in Harry he couldn't explain, like he'd be walking Hogwarts naked.
Hogwarts had been his home for so long. It was always a place of mysteries and duels but its becoming a warzone still shook Harry to his core. He shook the images of his dead godfathers from his eyes and walked into his room. He didn't sleep here much on their 'vacation' after the first few nights, but he was glad to know it was there. Draco really had thought of everything.
Harry changed into a long-sleeve white cotton shirt and thick brown trousers to hide what might be dirt. He had given up on plants since Hogwarts, but if he focused hard enough past the noise and guilt he could recall Pomona Sprout's voice saying something about soil quality. He had the power of the internet in his pocket, too, with endless knowledge on muggle planting practices.
After gearing up with his wand and glasses he was ready to take on the challenge. This was a strange feeling—a familiar one, but a lost one. He had the energy to start something and didn't feel crushed by the burden. The project was so large, so what could he really do? Grow one tree? Harry found an odd comfort in the impossibility of the task of restoring the Malfoy gardens fully.
He would do his best, and it would be a physical task that could take up his time between seeing Draco.
The only established elements in the rear lawn were the thick, leafy plants on the perimeter and keeping it private, and green grass well-trimmed in the center of it. Harry squinted, and in the distance at the edge of the property saw a small building. He began his walk towards it, a pleasant sun warming his back.
On closer inspection that little building was an adorable green shed with white trimmings, the kind Harry saw in magazines in Healer's waiting rooms. The double doors were unlatched so Harry walked right in expecting an empty room and finding quite the opposite.
The room was bigger on the inside as Harry had expected, but it was also packed in wall-to-wall supplies and saplings. There was a small sun and stars rotating over some seedlings marked as flowers in their tiny cups. It was beautiful magic but ultimately impractical, for if Draco really wanted to fill all this space he'd need a—ah.
Harry spied the glass panes when the light from the simulated sun reflected off of them. In crates and on top of lumber bundles sat a blueprint of a wood and glass greenhouse.
It was so neatly-placed—had Draco expected him to come in here?
Harry opened up the plans and inspected them. He'd never done anything like this before, and that was exactly why he wanted to do it.
As Harry brandished his trusty wand his confidence was only growing. First things first, a spongy charm on the glass so he wouldn't break any while moving it. Harry waved his wand wordlessly and the glass went floppy. The wooden frame would come first, and that would require some measuring and cutting with his wand as well.
This wand had been with him through everything. He overturned it in his hand and tried to remember the wonderful things that magic could do instead of the terrible things he'd witnessed. Harry was happier when he was casting spells, it was true, and he had to remember that.
It was still exciting to use spells, and now he had a reason to use them. Watching heavy wood lift with his wand effortlessly reminded Harry of his first Wingardium Leviosa lesson, filling him with warmth. He could do this.
Once all the lumber was outside it was time to form the base. It was time to begin something new, something that would be a source of good in the world, and last beyond him in nurturing life.
With his mind at peace he set down the perimeter of the space next to the shed, a large project but still nothing compared to this sprawling expanse of green grass.
Harry would fill it, he decided. He would fill Draco's life with beauty and flowers, roses and violets because he deserved them and more.
After not managing to say Harry's name or give too many details about his views or circumstance it seemed Pansy's appointment time was up. Draco cut her off but she seemed pleased with him and herself, so that was good. Talking to his other friends about this might not be so easy—they would push him for names.
The end of the day came, miraculously, and that meant returning to the apparation-approved section quickly so as to not have to answer more questions from his well-meaning 'bestie'.
Draco usually apparated directly back into his home because, well, it was his home. But now he was sharing it, and he didn't want to surprise Harry too terribly. All while he was bragging to Pansy Draco had been worried Harry wouldn't even be there when he got back, having finally come to his senses after a week of sex and bailed.
The fear of being abandoned by the Golden Boy was even worse than the fear of never being noticed by him again, Draco decided, for based on his experiences with both this one gripped his heart much tighter.
So Draco apparated to his own front door and knocked on it as a warning, waiting a few seconds. No response. Draco opened his door and spoke from the diaphragm so the whole house might hear. "Darling, I'm home," his voice rang out dulcet and sweet.
"In the kitchen!" Harry called.
Draco's heart dropped through his knees. So Harry was still here and by that smell he was cooking some kind of sauce. "Smells delicious," Draco announced, removing his Healer robe and hanging it. Harry had even cooked! This was excellent, it meant that at least now Harry was no longer moping in bed.
"Thanks. This is sort of like potions. I need way more detailed instructions usually to get that right but I think this is decent," Harry said of the sauce pots.
Draco turned a corner at the end of his words, an uncontrollable smile taking over his face. Harry was in a pink apron over jeans—ugh, jeans—and a cotton shirt with… was that sauce or dirt on it? Harry had gotten up to something today, and that was exactly what Draco had wanted.
Harry's smile mirrored Draco's when they saw each other for the first time in nine hours—oh, insufferable nine hours!—and they looked at each other as thieves to precious jewels each, greedy and reverent.
In no time at all Draco came to greet Harry with a kiss hello, both men too excited to pull away. They kissed until they were breathless, breaking to little laughs and longing glances.
"I'm making spaghetti," Harry said, stirring the pot of sauce and the pot of noodles on the other burner.
"I love spaghetti," Draco said because he wanted to encourage the hell out of him. "Do you need any assistance?"
"Nope," Harry shook his head. "You can sit down at the counter and keep me company, though. We have a few minutes and then I'll serve it in the dining room."
Draco took a seat on the counter stool and nodded at Harry. The smile he got in return made Draco's heart feel full. "How was your day?"
"Good. Started a project, which felt nice. You need a greenhouse for the gardens to start again, and I'm building one."
"That's brilliant," Draco said as if he hadn't been the ones to meticulously lay the plans out for him to see. "Let me know if you need extra supplies or support."
"How was your day?" Harry moved to strain the pasta in the sink, the smell of fresh noodles piquing Draco's appetite.
Hungry and tired, Draco reflected on his day. "I had a good day. It was long, but good. Pansy came to me as a patient today and while I obviously can't say why, just know she asked about you and I said the brief truth of our meeting of course excluding your identity. It went well."
Harry perked up at the stove, making up bowls of spaghetti to serve. "It went well? That's great."
"She does actually love me and want to be happy," Draco admitted reluctantly. "We can ease her into the truth of who you are. Still, this means I have to update Theo and Blaise with the same or similar information soon because they'll get jealous if I always tell Pansy everything first. I'll tell Greg later, he won't mind at all. You know how it is with straight friends."
"Don't I ever," Harry mumbled.
"I mean, who do you even talk to about sex?" Draco asked as Harry approached with their meals and parmesan for the shredding. Draco stood to follow Harry hungrily towards the dining room. "Ah, this looks delicious, thank you."
"You're welcome, and I'll have you know I don't talk to anyone about sex," he informed him as he placed the meals down in the dining room. Draco got the head of the table, and Harry to his right. "For many reasons. The first being that I don't have a lot of it, past week and a half excluded, and the second that my best friends are like my siblings."
Harry pulled out a chair for Draco and Draco sat in it, nodding politely. So Harry Potter could be a gentleman when properly trained. They'd gone over all the right spoons and forks to use in proper mealtime and he'd set up everything as instructed for the meal at hand. "Thank you, really." Draco hadn't had anyone cook for him in ages aside from his parents. "And honestly, you never talk to Gr—Hermione or Ron about sex? Even in passing?"
"In passing, sure, but I don't want to know what my sister is like in bed from my brother, you know?" Harry tried desperately to avoid the subject even now.
Draco snorted as Harry sat, more amused than anything. "Fair enough, Harry. At least you have me to talk to about sex. Your frustration before me was probably as legendary as you."
"I'm not legendary," Harry chuckled.
Draco sampled the spaghetti, humming with pleasure. "This food is. You used the recipe in the book there?"
"Yes, I saw it laying out ever so inconspicuously," Harry replied with a sardonic grin. He twirled some spaghetti onto his fork and sampled his work. He hummed too, quite pleased with himself. "The cookbook was appreciated, though."
"You do well with instruction," Draco nodded. "Your 'Half-Blood Prince' book was really just detailed and concise things Severus should have been teaching everyone. I got this cookbook out for the detailed diagrams and instructions. There are lots more cookbooks in storage, but I need to get to rebuilding the library to access them all."
"A three-story library," Harry recalled from Draco's letters that seemed a world away, echoes in his memory of what now stood before him. "Which floors?"
"Second to Fourth, meaning I need to finish the fourth floor. Ugh, there's just so much that needs to fit in here to please father…" Draco cleared his throat when he realized he sounded like a kid again, stuffing his face with spaghetti in quiet embarrassment.
Harry finished his chewing and spoke, having received admonishment for speaking with his mouth full of food in his training. "You can do it, Draco. You'll get it done for you, like you taught me. I can focus on the outside, and you can on the inside. You know, there should likely be a centerpiece for the whole garden—I was thinking about a fountain. Do you want to pick one out with me on the weekend? We could get it installed, put the space into perspective."
"Look at you, talking like a regular artist. Should I leave paints out for you, too? Oh, I think I will," Draco said, all grins.
"So you are leaving out things you want me to do." Harry wasn't accusing, but he'd figured Draco out soon enough.
"They are suggestions," Draco clarified. "I do not like the idea of you moping while I'm away, Harry. Chase that urge away with whatever action you can take. Do not go gentle into that bored night."
Harry nodded, putting his fork down a moment. "My motivation was okay today. We'll see how it is over time. At least two days out of the seven you're all mine."
"This weekend, then, we'll pick out a centerpiece fountain," Draco circled back around to the start of this line of thought. "I'm eager to see what catches your eye. Is Harry Potter more of a sculpture man or an abstract sort of artist?"
"Well… I'm not sure myself," Harry had to admit. "Some abstract art looks like a kid painted it, and I get that it's supposed to be brave to just blot one daub of paint on a canvas, but it's not the kind of thing I'd hang in my home." Harry laughed bitterly. "I didn't really hang anything in my home aside from Gryffindors pennants."
"Is there anything you'd like to hang in your room here? I promise I'll only tease you occasionally about the pennants."
Harry snorted, twirling his fork. "No, no pennants. Maybe some art, or a poster of… something. I dunno. Whatever excites me, I guess. I know I've said this about a thousand ways since we started this whole thing but I didn't really get excited about much before you. I was in a haze, and not even my favorite things could pull me out of it."
But Draco could, was how that sentence ended in both their minds. It made Draco's heart beat faster. "Ever since we started 'this whole thing' as you refer to it, I've found you quite easily excitable," Draco went for the low-hanging fruit of jokes.
Harry rolled his eyes fondly. Draco was such a shit. "That's because you're my new favorite thing. Er, person, I mean," Harry doubled back on. "Certainly my favorite and my only Daddy."
It became easier to say that word every time Harry said it. He blushed a little less, said it a little more factually. James and the guilt surrounding what he'd think of all this felt further away, muted behind a curtain of habit.
Draco outright preened at that like a proud bird in the mirror. "And you are my favorite and only good boy." He patted Harry's head with his free hand while he ate the last of his spaghetti. "Give Daddy a smile?"
When Draco asked that Harry smiled naturally, laughing a little at the request.
"There he is. That's my guy," Draco beamed in return.
"You're ridiculous," Harry said through his blush, deeply embarrassed but so, so pleased about it.
Draco opened his mouth to argue that when there was a pounding knock on the front door. He froze, looking to Harry with confusion.
"Are you—" Harry was going to ask if Draco was expecting anyone when he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye in the window. It was enough to be a shadow, a phantasm of black and a sort of blue in the large, empty front yard.
Draco turned around to see what Harry was looking so intently at. Was that movement? What happened to the wards?
Harry bolted up, wand at the ready just in time to hear a voice break through the walls via magical loudspeaker.
"DRACO MALFOY, THIS IS THE AUROR DEPARTMENT. OPEN THE DOOR, YOU'RE SURROUNDED!" bellowed a far-too familiar voice to Harry. Loud sirens began to blare, and red and blue lights filled every window.
"The what?" Draco snapped in disbelief. He too stood now, seeing witches in their Auror-blue robes now gathering outside his window in the front yard with wands drawn, lit up by the flashing lights.
"Auror Weasley, I have a visual on the hostage!" shouted one of them. "Permission to cast?"
The next minute was complete chaos. The lights and sirens became overwhelming to Harry, leaving him clutching his wand and his ears to try and drown out the noise. He tugged on his hair, mind still racing and unable to piece together what exactly was going on.
"…down! Put it down!" Draco shouted, voice fading in and out of Harry's perception. "Put your wand down, Harry, just put your hands up!"
Draco had his up, his wand in his pocket because he knew when he was outmatched and the last thing he wanted was to give one of these fools an excuse to stun him, or worse. His heart was beating out of his chest but this was hardly the first Auror raid on the Manor after the war. It had been years, though—wait, did someone say 'hostage'?
Draco nor Harry could hear if anyone gave permission to fire but a spell came crashing through the front window either way, shattering it entirely.
As if that was legitimate reason to charge the wizards swarmed the room, stepping over broken glass and mobbing Draco so he was surrounded.
"On the ground, scum! Get on the ground!" yelled an Auror, their wand shaking in their frightened hands to be pointing it at what they knew as the fearsome ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy. Draco complied with a huff—how disgraceful—but the Auror didn't seem any less scared.
Harry's eyes narrowed. No, this was wrong, it was Draco who was supposed to be the one telling people to get on the ground. "What are you doing?" Harry demanded, having not put his wand away as he was told and charging forward. "Get off of him!"
The Auror looked at Harry with wide eyes. There was something so raw, so feral about this man, like the magic in him was pouring forth from his mouth, his eyes, his nostrils in horrible, angry puffs.
"Auror Weasley, Auror Weasley!" they cried over their shoulder. "I think he's under the Imperius curse!" Two more Aurors flanked them, each one grabbing an arm of Draco's to haul him to his feet, fumbling with their handcuffs. Harry fumed.
"I said, GET OFF OF HIM!" Harry shouted, the magical force of his very voice knocking everyone, Draco included, right back onto their arse. Electricity crackled in the air around him, potent magic swirling in the air so thick that Draco could taste it.
"Harry," Draco tried quickly from his place on the floor. It was easy to forget his sweet, gentle man was the most powerful wizard alive, capable of striking a deeper fear than even Draco's reputation afforded him. The wandless, wordless magic in any other situation would be unbelievably hot. Now, though, he was far from being able to appreciate it. "It's okay, I've done nothing wrong—they have nothing on me."
"Harry!" cried Ron from the shattered window, bounding over the ledge. He was running to save Harry with a smile—he was alive and well!—but that smile faded to see that state Harry was in. "Harry?"
Green eyes practically glowed as they flicked to Ron. "What the hell are you doing here?" Harry raged, voice booming to leave only silence in his wake. His hair stood unnaturally on end, and his feet felt lighter, almost like he might take off from the ground.
"I—we're rescuing you!" Ron replied as if it should have been obvious. "Hermione and I tracked the two-way mirror's magical signature in your shoebox and it led right here. We know Malfoy's been holding you, and, and—" Ron looked to the romantic dining room set-up with some disbelief. "Making you cook?"
Harry was so furious it became hard to speak. "You—you idiot!"
"Imperius curse, sir," said another Auror to Ron.
"Watch your tongue," Draco snapped from his place on the floor, the two Aurors grabbing his arms again. He didn't struggle, but looked absolutely disgusted. "You really think Harry fucking Potter could fall for an Imperius so easily? He's got more magic in his thumb than all of you combined."
"You have an Imperius on your record, Malfoy," snarled the Auror holding his left arm, twisting it slightly. Draco braced his face to be stony and not show the pain.
"Let him go! Now! I am not under any curse, I'm here of my own free will!" Harry roared at Ron, who was now standing in stunned silence. This sure sounded like Harry, but could it really be him saying these things? "Make them let him go!"
Ron blinked and turned to Malfoy with the two officers clearly trying to sprain something of his. "Put him down. Only get him if he runs," Ron allowed cautiously.
Clearly displeased, both Aurors let go with a push to make sure Draco would fall flat on his chest. He failed to catch himself on his hands and did just that, growling with some anger as he reached back to rub the shoulder the left Auror had been twisting. "I'm not an idiot, either. I know I can't run from the Ministry," Draco huffed and stood up, brushing himself off to try and regain some dignity.
"Damn right you can't," muttered one Auror in the back.
"And so I'm not trying to!" Draco turned around and directed right at the speaker, met with grumbles back. "You people get off on harassing me, but believe me, I'm far from consenting."
Ron looked between Draco and Harry, then to the table of spaghetti dinner, then back at the men. "What exactly is going on here?" Ron asked, Auror voice stern.
"You don't get to ask that question!" Harry flipped. He let out a horrible growl, finally putting away his wand only when he saw Draco standing and safe. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Ron? Have you lost your mind? Do you even have a warrant?"
"I do! On the basis of suspected kidnapping!" Ron replied and waved a piece of parchment about. "Harry, do you seriously mean to tell me you're here because you want to be? In this place?"
Harry let out a frustrated noise that shook the very foundations of the room with magical energy. "Ron, I am a grown man, and I can go wherever I want and do whatever I want with whoever I so choose!"
"In the place one of your best friends was tortured while we were held in the basement? What, does the new paint of coat cancel out the worst memory of my life?" Ron demanded.
Harry gritted his teeth. "That wasn't Draco."
"Aunt Bella was demented," Draco spoke directly to Ron this time. What happened to Hermione was wrong, but it also wasn't even close to the worst thing that Bellatrix Lestrange had done. "I didn't want her to."
"Oh, and you sure did a whole lot to stop it," Ron recalled bitterly before turning back to Harry. "You weren't answering our Patronus messages, Harry, and your shoebox was gone! Fuck, you have no idea how worried Hermione was."
"Patronus messages?" Draco questioned but got no explanation from anyone around him. He couldn't cast one in the first place, let alone use it to send a message, so he'd likely warded against the incoming magic and that was why Harry didn't receive them.
"Oh," Harry said, throwing his hands in the air. "Well, yes, let's burst into an innocent man's house and break his window because Hermione was worried! That's just bloody perfect, Ron."
"What were we supposed to think: Oh, Harry's just gone on a wee holiday with Draco fucking Malfoy, school bully extraordinaire?" Ron demanded.
"I don't care what you think!" Harry snapped back. "Or what you worry about!"
"Clearly, Harry! You're being so self-destructive right now! And for what?" Ron shook his head. "You have no idea what went through our minds, Harry, when we saw that box missing. Everything you care about in this world, gone, like you'd taken it to—to… you know."
"No, Ron, I don't know! Please, please tell me what the hell had your britches in such a twist you called the whole entire department here! Hello, everyone! Just me, Crazy Potter." He waved maniacally at the room of now deeply-concerned looking officers. Draco winced. Poor Harry didn't deal well with stress, let alone surprise attacks.
"We thought you'd taken it to kill yourself!" Ron yelled back, voice cracking under the pressure.
That gave Harry pause. He could feel the pain in Ron's voice, the tone of utter and complete despair to think of a world where Harry was gone. It made Harry want to be kinder to him but he was just so damn mad.
Mad that Ron was right, mad that Ron was even here, it all was a massive swirling ball of rage inside the cage of his mouth. Sickly, Harry let out a little laugh. "I might've in a few years," Harry admitted quietly. "Maybe even in a few months, if things kept up the way they were. Tired all the time, sad all the time, I can't stop pulling out my hair like some kind of freak, and on top of everything I knew I was worrying you, making your life harder!"
Ron's face went red as a tomato holding back tears of embarrassment and relief in front of what was indeed almost the entire Auror department he'd called in for this. "Harry—" he said, voice cracking and the sentence dying in his mouth.
"But I'm not," Harry said, resolute. "I'm not killing myself, Ron. I don't think I quite want to anymore, and that's not because I'm magically better—" Harry looked to Draco, breath catching in his throat. "It's because I got my rut—I got pulled out, really." He looked down at Draco's feet with a little laugh.
Draco could hardly believe what he was hearing. He'd known Harry was depressed and suffering from his PTSD, but suicidal ideation was never mentioned. It worried him so much he feared he might throw up in front of everyone, so sickened by the idea that Harry might hurt himself that his body was having a visceral physical reaction.
"You cannot seriously mean to tell me that you found the meaning of living life and it's for Draco Malfoy?" Ron demanded in a softer but urgent tone.
"I'm not living for him!" Harry shook his head. "He didn't, I dunno, save me or anything as cliché as that. He's helping me, helping me see why I shouldn't live for anyone but myself. To pursue my actual desires. I'm living for me now, Ron, and I'm living here."
"Harry—!"
"I want you," Harry said with his last modicum of calm. "To leave. I want all of you to leave. Hello, no kidnapping, get out of our house." The room of Aurors, having heard this entire fight and not knowing what to say or do, looked to Ron.
'Our house'. Ron and Draco both could have cried for entirely different reasons upon hearing those words. Both men held back sniffles that went thankfully unnoticed by the crowd.
"If you want to talk," Harry said slowly to Ron. "You can send an owl here and we'll schedule something like normal people. But tonight—you need to leave. Draco has work in the morning, and I have things to get done, too."
Ron, flabbergasted in every sense of the word, let out a breath. "Harry, you just told me you've considered suicide, how am I supposed to leave you here? I'm—I'm supposed to be your best friend! You're supposed to tell me things! I—I can't believe…"
The look on Ron's face, lost and dejected, squeezed Harry's heart in his chest to the point of physical pain. "I'm not in any danger, Ron. Not from me or anyone else—not right now, anyway. What? Stop looking at me like that—Draco's a Healer."
"Right, and you're here on patient business," Ron said edgily, eyeing the dinner plates. He took a deep breath and let out a beleaguered sigh. "Squads one and two, fall back. Three and four, you too. Squad five, I don't know which one of you fired but the Auror Department now owes Malfoy a window."
"Please," Draco said and put his hand up imperiously. "You can't afford what I want. I'll just repair it and forget this… intrusion ever happened. So long as you do as Harry wishes." Draco cast 'Reparo' and the window came back together with Draco's expert skills in mending spells.
Ron had almost forgotten how powerful Malfoy was, too. Or apparently it was 'Draco' now. The first-name basis these two were on was throwing Ron way off of his game. "That's, er, generous. I have to extend a formal apology."
"Oh, I know you wouldn't be apologizing to the likes of me if you didn't have to, trust me," Draco snarked. "Can you leave now?" He stood at Harry's side, unsure if he wanted to be touched but desperately wanting to touch him.
"Fall back," Ron ordered again, eyes pained and lingering on Harry.
"You heard the man," said another Auror. "Fall back!"
With some grumbles the twenty-or-so officers made their way out the front door, avoiding the shattered window with some guilt in their eyes. Draco glared at all of them to the very last, leaving only Ron, Harry, and Draco in the dining room.
"Harry," Ron tried once the rest of the Aurors were gone.
"No," Harry snapped. "No, we are not talking like friends until you invite me into a conversation like friends. I don't know why the Patronus messages didn't come through—"
"That'd be my wards," Draco admitted. "I can alter them if you wish."
"Oh," Harry said. "Oh." Could Draco not cast a corporeal Patronus?
"Owls will be just fine," Ron sighed. "Now that I actually know where you are…"
"And this is where I'll be," Harry reinforced. "I live here now." He reached out for Draco's hand and Draco took it immediately. "And you don't get to judge me because you just interrupted a really nice dinner, Ron. Seriously, what would you do if I burst through your front window while you were trying to romance Hermione?"
"And that's what you're doing here," Ron clarified, disbelieving. "Romancing."
"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "He's better with the fancy stuff than I am. How was I doing?" Harry asked Draco.
Draco laughed brightly, though not as bright as he could have. "Pretty well, I'll say," he said and squeezed Harry's hand. "But Harry, we absolutely have to talk about—"
"I know, and we will. Just as soon as Ron leaves." Harry leveled his gaze at Ron and cocked an expectant brow.
Ron shook his head. "This is not what I meant when you said you should meet some men. You're barking for this one, mate. Absolutely mad."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But at least now I'm happy. I'll talk to you later, Ron. Please."
"I'm telling Hermione about all of this," Ron warned. "She'll be happy to know you're okay, but I don't know how to explain this." He motioned to Draco and Harry's clasped hands.
"Then you don't have to, I'll explain to you both later. But Ron, I really, really need you to leave." With his free hand Harry searched for thick hair on his head and pulled it out to some relief.
Ron let out a big sigh. "Okay, Harry. Have it your way. I'll send a bloody owl. Merlin's arse. Next time you shack up with a War Criminal why not just give one of your best mates a shout, hm? That's all it would have taken to know you were okay. I panicked, alright?"
"I'll sure say," Harry deadpanned.
"It's because I give a shit you know," Ron countered.
"I know, Ron. I know."
"Okay then. Well. I'll be owling you, then. Have a… night." Ron turned and walked towards the front door, Draco and Harry following behind to shut it. Draco watched out of the peep-hole until the Aurors had all filed out the front gates, the redhead last, and let out a breath when he felt the wards restore from whatever blocking agent the Auror department had used. Bloody fascists. Draco ought to know.
"Are you hurt?" Harry asked immediately once they were alone.
"Harry," Draco said, more pressing issues on the mind than a little police brutality. "Harry—" Draco threw his arms around him. "Harry, I had no idea that was how deeply you were hurting. I'm so sorry."
"Hardly your fault," Harry sniffled, wiping his eyes on the other side of the hug. "I don't think I even wanted to admit to myself how futile I thought everything was until someone I was avoiding called me out on it."
"You were right, I can't make you magically better, as much as that kills me to say," Draco pressed. "I want to get in contact with your therapist, see if we can get you a psychiatrist. I want to do daily check-ins; I need to know how you're doing every single day."
Harry nodded, having resolved long ago to go on with whatever kind of treatment Draco recommended once his true thoughts on the matter of his life came to light. That, and he'd suspected Draco was going to contact her anyway about the hair pulling. They'd talked about getting it under control during his training, and it had been mortifying, so he'd been sparing Harry a little while.
"And I want to meet with your therapist, maybe go as a couple?"
Harry nodded again, eyelids heavier than before. He pulled away from the hug to wipe his eyes more dedicatedly. "Yeah, we can do that."
"Good." Draco nodded, putting his hands back at his side through bleary eyes. "Good." Before he knew it he was hugging Harry again, the two holding one another tight. "I am so, so glad you are alive."
"Yeah," Harry said, cracking his first smile since the Aurors left. "Me too."
The talk had lasted long into the night, the plan of what Harry and Draco were going to do moving forward. Before Harry even realized it the clock on the wall read midnight.
"Draco," he said gently. "You need to go to bed. You have work in the morning."
"I could stay here another few days," Draco offered for the hundredth time. "Like last week." When everything had been happy and safe and secret.
Harry shook his head. "No, I want you to go to work like you would normally. I'll be fine here building the greenhouse and attending psychiatry sessions starting tomorrow. You need rest to save all those lives and whatnot, so come on." He tugged on Draco's sleeve.
Draco laughed a bit bitterly. "Not sure I can rest after all of that." They were sitting in a parlor now but the draft of the busted-in window carried even this far. "My mind is racing…"
A long moment passed between them before Harry was struck with an idea. "Daddy?" Harry said in his quietest, most saccharine voice. "Is there anything I can do to help with that?"
After everything they'd just been through, Harry Potter seducing him was not how Draco thought this night would end. He didn't dare look this gift horse in the mouth, though, not when his mind really was going a thousand miles a minute to think about how h might have lost Harry before he even had him.
"Now, there is something," Draco imagined up, taking Harry's hands. "I think you can help Daddy with. Would you like to come up to my bedroom?"
"Yes, please."
Draco stood and Harry followed, leaving one hand each entangled with the other's as they ascended the staircase to the third floor, Draco looking back over his shoulder frequently to catch Harry smiling.
Once the doors were shut behind them there was no keeping them from one another. Draco kissed Harry silly, hands moving all over that cotton shirt of his until he found the tie for his apron in the back. Draco quickly undid the knot, letting the strands fall.
"And up," Draco spoke against Harry's lips. He raised his arms and felt Draco tug the apron and shirt off of him at once. The rush of fabric upwards created enough friction to have Harry's nipples hard right after being exposed. "Good boy."
Harry kissed all around Draco's mouth and back onto it, lips meeting in hard smacks.
"Mmm, so I have this trick," Draco began as his thumbs tweaked Harry's nipples. "It always gets me right to sleep after. But I'll need you hard and on your back, because I'm going to ride you until I've had my fill."
"Sounds like one hell of a trick."
"That you are, my sweet," Draco teased, earning a laugh from Harry between their kisses. "Come along with me." He took Harry's hand once more to lead him towards the bed, sitting him down and climbing onto his lap.
Sure, Harry was short, but that wasn't about to stop Draco from climbing him like a tree.
This would be the first time he was allowed to be inside of Draco, and the thought alone excited Harry so much he was almost shaking under Draco's molten kisses.
Draco's velvet tongue was hotter than ever swirling over Harry's lips, slipping between them when Harry sighed. Harry's tongue slid alongside Draco's to taste him, the flavor of Draco now quite familiar to Harry.
On top of him Draco swirled his hips, too, grinding his hips down on him in his Healer-white trousers. Shocks went up Harry's spine, a current lighting up each time their groins rubbed together. Draco's hands gripped him tighter and tighter still as they scaled up Harry's back, tugging on the back of Harry's shirt until he could pull the garment up over his head.
"So beautiful," Harry marveled in the gap where their lips weren't fused together before they reunited again. Draco made a content noise into their kiss, pulling Harry's hands up to help him unbutton his shirt from the top while he did so from the bottom. They met in the middle and Harry pushed the shirt from his fine marble shoulders.
Draco, sucker for flattery as he was, absolutely melted to hear Harry whispering his praises between kisses. "Yeah, you think so?" he prompted for more.
"Your hair," Harry started, one hand running up the back of his neck to grab a fistful of platinum locks. "Is beautiful, and when you style it like you do I love it, but I love messing it up more." Harry ruffled the usually-coifed crop of blonde hair and chuckled when Draco narrowed his eyes.
"Ruffian," Draco accused.
"And your voice," Harry said, trailing his hand down to gently hold Draco's neck where it vibrated when he spoke in the hollow of his throat. "Is so adorably posh, and when I hear it I feel this wave of calm. And when we're together, when I hear you come, it's the greatest sound in the world."
Draco's neck was getting pink under Harry's hand from all this praise.
"Your skin is so, so soft," Harry spoke lower this time. He moved his hand down Draco's chest, touch reverent over old scars. "And now mine is thanks to your brews and instructions. You're so smart, Draco."
Now that went right to Draco's head. He smiled down at Harry and pushed his hands up under his shirt so he could rid him of it. "Yeah, I am," he replied cockily. "But you, you're brave. You looked like you were going to take on all those Aurors at once, no wand or incantations needed to sling your spells. Fuck, that was hot."
Harry chuckled, moving to undo Draco's trouser clasp and unzip him all the way down. "Only you could find that hot."
"Deeply untrue. Magic as powerful as that was—and you weren't even trying—any wizard in his right mind would be hard as a damn rock." Draco got his trousers off as fast as he possibly could thinking about that radiating aura, that pure, raw power.
"Like you are?" Harry asked innocently, pressing his palm to Draco's erection through his grey pants.
Draco snickered and started on Harry's trousers next, finding him similarly disposed. "Cheeky," he accused, sliding them down and off his legs. He gave Harry's arse cheek a clap through his red panties because he could, getting a satisfying squeak out of him. "Now take off my pants and open me up already."
"Impatient," Harry observed, doing as he was told and tugging off Draco's pants along with wriggling out of his own with Draco's attentive help. "Aren't we, Draco?"
"You ought to know that by now," Draco retorted, reaching for the vial of lube on the bedside table. "But it has been… awhile, for me."
"Hey," said Harry. "I'll be gentle."
"Not too gentle, I hope."
"Right, of course."
Draco passed Harry the vial of lubricant and Draco's fingers lingered on his.
"Okay," Harry said more to himself than to Draco, covering his index finger in lubricant. "Okay…" Harry lined his finger up with Draco's hole to watch it pulse from the lightest of taps. Harry moved his fingertip around the puckered skin nice and slow, dedicated to easing him into this.
A full-body shiver overtook Draco to be touched in such an intimate way and a tender way to boot—Harry was being a proper gentleman and barely pressing against him at all. Draco changed that with a firm push down of his own hips, urging Harry on. "Don't be such a tease, Potter."
"Back to last names, are we, Malfoy?" Harry replied, taking the hint and pressing the first joint of his finger in. Harry pushed up from there, sinking in slowly until the finger disappeared up to his knuckle.
Draco cried out sharply, his hand covering the hand Harry had on his hip.
"Fucking hell," Harry breathed at how tight Draco felt. "It has been awhile for you. We shouldn't let you go unstretched so long again."
"Already planning our next round?" Draco asked airily, breathing thinner with Harry's intrusion pressing deep, searching within him. "Bit premature."
"I'm not quite done with this round, and you know I'm never premature," Harry reminded Draco and curled his finger to watch Draco's eyes roll back into his head. "I'm your good boy, Daddy."
"Yes," Draco hissed. "Oh, yes you are. Right there, a little to the—oh, that's it."
"Here?" Harry asked innocently, rubbing his fingertip against the spot that made Draco's pale eyelashes flutter so prettily
Draco nodded, cockiness fading when he was so utterly at Harry's mercy. "Yeah," was all he could reply, struggling through a nod.
"Good." Harry curled and uncurled his finger inside of Draco again and again, pushing his walls out wider until he could feel there was room for more. From there Harry pushed in his second finger, this one a far tighter fit.
A gasp left Draco, body trembling around Harry with a twinge of pain he couldn't and didn't want to ignore—the pain was a part of this, too.
Harry's breathing was shallow to watch his two fingers disappear inside of Draco over and over, each time pushing wider and deeper to work him open. Draco had begun to circle his hips, groaning softly with each time they came around to press down on Harry's digits.
The groans only served to make Harry harder, make him want Draco all the more.
"Harry," Draco called out to him, voice breathy.
"You want more, hm?" Harry spread lubricant on his ring finger before it too joined the two already inside of Draco, the burn of the stretch palpable around his fingers. "How's that?"
"Yes," Draco hissed, sounding almost like a Parselmouth. Harry wondered briefly how Draco might react if he started to speak in Parseltongue, a vestige left over from the Horcrux, but decided against it when he saw how peaceful Draco looked on top of him. No need to make him think of that duel Harry turned his snake away in.
Right now the only snake Harry was thinking about was the one between Draco's legs. His fat, pink cockhead was twitching slightly as Harry rooted out the core of his pleasure inside of him, three fingers flexing open.
"I'm ready," Draco said in a voice firmer than before.
Harry cracked a big grin—he was ready, too.
His prick was practically jumping at the thought of being where his fingers were now, so warm and slick, and he eagerly coated himself in the oil from the vial to make sure it would slide in without too much strain on Draco.
"Here," Harry positioned him, beckoning him forward with the fingers inside of him. "Just like that." He eased them out and Draco made a small noise at how he missed them. He was wide open now, and Harry wasted no time nudging his cockhead against the gaping hole. "Fuck, you look so good."
"Take me," Draco whispered.
So Harry took him. He pushed himself in and found nirvana in Draco Malfoy's arsehole. Stranger things had happened to him, after all. The world had magic and wizards who went to work in toilets, Harry had died and come back to life, and now he was making love to the most beautiful man he'd ever seen in his life.
Draco moaned with his whole throat. "Oh, Harry—that's my big boy."
Harry squeezed Draco's hips, fully sheathed inside of him as Draco covered his hands with his own, their fingers intertwining.
"Bloody fuck," Draco swore, the burn creeping up his back. He clenched tight around Harry with a shiver of his whole body.
"You okay?"
"Much better than okay." Draco shuddered. He started to move his hips again on Harry, rocking back to take him in all the way each time. "Move with me."
Harry nodded, his glasses heating up but he never wanted to take them off because looking up at Draco was such a gift. Harry rocked his hips up against Draco, a gentle motion at first.
Little gasps fell from Draco's lips, noises of surprise and delight as Harry moved like a wave beneath him. "Yes," he whispered as Harry's cockhead ground deep. "Yes."
Throbbing within him Harry couldn't help but speed up to reach more of that delicious friction, rolls of his hips getting faster and faster. "You feel so good," Harry marveled up at Draco, the soft slap of their skin coming together again and again.
"Harry," Draco groaned, putting his full effort into the first syllable of his name so he could chant it. "Harry, Harry, Harry—"
Harry thrust up faster, harder, bouncing Draco on his lap. "Draco," Harry replied, voice climbing in volume. Draco was giving as good as he got, driving Harry absolutely up the wall.
Draco rode him hard, rode him rough and downright dirty once he got into it. He cried out and held tight to the hands on his hips, head tipping back to expose his bare throat. "Yes, Harry!"
"Draco, oh, oh…" Harry stretched out the last syllable of Draco's name in return for the heavenly way that Draco said his as their bodies collided. Harry wanted to see more, hear more of those moans, so he freed a hand from Draco's to wrap it around his dripping cock.
"Harry!" Draco choked out. He hadn't expected the strokes in tandem with Harry's thrusts and the surprise of it all brought a tear to his silver eye. "Oh, fuck, I'm not gonna last, I—"
"Then don't last," Harry urged, pulsing up in his thrusts with such effort that sweat dripped down the back of his neck.
"Fuck, Harry!" Draco's toes curled under and his eyes screwed shut in a moment of complete tightness in his body, clenching hard around Harry before the release came to him gut-first. An explosion of heat followed by a burst of white overtook him, leaving him to shake and shudder out the last of his release over Harry's chest who welcomed it with open arms.
Harry lasted only a few more thrusts in before he too was brought into the undertow of a little death that felt ripped right out of his core. Harry's sight was blurry beyond his fogged glasses for a moment, the whole world out of focus. "Draco…"
Harry's last moan of his name was met with a racked wheeze from Draco, slumping onto Harry and not caring if he got in his own mess. "Harry," he rasped, that adorably posh voice utterly wrecked.
The two clung tight to each other as Draco pulled off of Harry with a whimper, gratefully accepting the spot at his side where Harry seemed content to cuddle him.
With a lazy wipe of his chest clean from a conveniently-placed towel on his nightstand—Draco's foresight was uncanny—Harry invited Draco to rest his head on his chest. In reality Draco rested his entire self on Harry's chest, climbing atop him without a care if he was crushing him. With some adjustment from Harry he no longer was crushing him, and the two could pant together for a moment as they came down.
"Wow," was all Harry could say when he finally had the breath to say something.
Draco chuckled. "Yeah, 'wow'." He kissed Harry's neck. "We ought to do that more often."
"You're telling me," Harry laughed in return, having wanted this for a while now. He'd just been too nervous to ask for it, not believing himself worthy of such a reward. "Are you feeling okay? Did it hurt too much?"
"I'm feeling bloody fantastic, Harry. I'm fine, and so glad to be here with you. Will you stay the night with me?" Draco requested.
"Draco, I want to spend every night with you," Harry told him seriously.
Draco took it as pillowtalk and smiled anyway. There was no way he could really mean that. "My bed is always open to you."
Harry wanted it to be 'our bed', but maybe that was asking too much. That wasn't really the arrangement, right? "Good," Harry said anyway, taking off his glasses now that Draco was close enough to see clearly. "Because I'm here to stay."
A happy hum left Draco's throat with Harry's come leaking out of his hole. "Give me ten more minutes of snuggles and then we can shower," he decided.
"Yes, sir," Harry replied seriously as if snuggling was a grave commitment. He nuzzled their cheeks together. "Ten minutes on the clock. There's a lot to be done with timers, I'm told."
"You cheeky boy." Draco kissed his cheek. "But how can I blame you when you're learning from the best?" He kissed his other cheek. "So give me ten, and we can talk about that round two."
Harry would do just that because he'd died and come back to life once, and now it felt like twice. So Harry smiled and held him tight, feeling the best and most gleefully alive he had in a long, long time.