Madame Pomfry eventually let him free, after much struggling. Every moment after they had nearly kissed, Harry had been thinking of nothing but finding Draco, slamming him against a wall and doing several things that were probably crimes in at least three countries.
But he also had other things on his mind, as Madame Pomfry had kept him in the infirmary for practically an hour, asking about his scars and recommending therapists. Should he see a therapist? Were the things that he was feeling fixable?
He was also going over all the things Hermione had said, Harry's mind was racing. The Slytherin had never left his side for three days. So maybe his feelings were mutual, or maybe Draco just felt guilty.
Why did his life to have to be so bloody complicated?
He had to find Draco, Draco made things better. Draco made everything focus on him, rather then all the shit in the world.
Luckily for him, as soon as he left the room, the blond was leaning against the wall.
"Did you hear?" Harry rushed to ask.
Draco raised a single brow, "Hear about your self harm scars? Hear about the therapist recommendations?"
Harry blushed violently, "Yeah-"
"I didn't hear a word."
"Not Funny."
Suddenly a soft pale was in his, pulling him along, "I told you in the village that you would have to explain it to me, so now you're going to."
"Please don't make me do this..."
Draco stopped pulling him abruptly, "No! I will not pity you! So fuck you Potter! You are explaining this!"
Harry's urge to slam Draco against increased, so he did. Draco hair was messed up, yet somehow perfect. And his lips, his fucking lips were parted and pink and fuck. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear someone to say that..." He murmured. Pale long fingers were rested against his chest, and one of Harry's hands was behind the blonds neck and the other sliding up Draco's chin, slowly tilting it up.
Suddenly those pale fingers were pushing Harry away, "No!" He shouted, frustrated, "You will tell me!" Then those long fingers were gripping Harry's face, those pink lips teasing him, "We'll save this for later..."
Draco was biting him lip and Harry had to physically force himself to stop from ravaging him.
"Fine. But in private?"
"Where do you think we were going before you so rudely slammed me against a wall?" drawled the Slytherin.
"Fuck you-"
"Not yet," Draco smirked, looking back at the man who's hand he was tugging along.
Harry was dying, even he could sense the sexual tension, and he was probably the most oblivious of them all. Resolving not to say anything, Harry allowed the other boy to drag him up to their private room.
When they reached the common room, Hermione and Ron were sitting there, innocently cuddling, "Help-" Harry tried.
"Shut it!" Draco snapped, jerking on Harry's arm.
As their door closed behind them, the two boys heard Ron mutter, "They're probably fucking..."
"But Draco was pulling Harry along," Hermione pondered, "I always thought Harry would top-"
"SHUT UP GRANGER!" Draco yelled through the closed door, "WE'RE TRYING TO HAVE A CONVERSATION!"
They heard the two snort, "Conversation-"
Draco promptly put a silencing spell on the room, "I hate your friends."
"Sometimes, the feeling is mutual."
Sitting elegantly on his bed, Draco gestured to Harry, "Now, tell me."
"It's not pretty-"
"Well, you're not pretty either, yet I deal with you..."
Harry sighed, "I'll have to start at the beginning. It's a long story-"
"Well I got loads of time - I mean - I'll make room for you," Draco corrected himself.
Smiling to himself darkly, Harry silenced his inner protests, he began, "It's always been bad, I didn't have the best childhood and stuff-"
"Explain," Draco interrupted.
"That's very, very personal, Draco. And it's also a long story. I'll... I'll tell you later." Harry stuttered, tucking his knees to his chest.
Getting up, Draco came up and sat on the bed next to Harry, "I'm holding you accountable."
"Anyway... Well... It was the war that started this," Harry indicated to him wrists, "Well after the war. It was just that everything is my fault!" Oops, Harry was letting everything loose now, "If I had just been faster and smarter I could have prevented all those deaths! It was my fault Cedric and Sirius and everyone else died!"
"How?" Draco asked simply.
"Voldemort," Draco flinched as Harry said the name, "Sent me a vision of Sirius in trouble, and me, like the idiot I am, followed it. If it weren't for me, he would have never been there! He would have never died!"
"You were a child, The Dark Lord was an adult! Of course you were tricked! No-one can expect a child to beat the Dark Lord-"
"And Cedric, I'm the one that suggested we grab the cup together. And then he was killed! Do you know what he said? Kill the spare. Kill the fucking spare!"
Draco's arms find their way around Harry's waist, one delicate hand massaging his back. Merlin, he was crying, hard and ugly. "It sounds like, Potter, that it's not your fault! It's the bloody DARK LORD'S!"
"It's my fault. Everything is my fault! And that's why I did it, because I felt nothing but guilt and emptiness and I just wanted to feel something else! It's why I'm addicted to it and you because you both make me feel. Ron... Ron and Hermione just make me feel guilt! After all, it's my fault that Fred died and Hermione still doesn't have her parents!"
"Wait," Draco said, eyes wide, "Back it up a little. You're addicted to me?"
"Yes!" shouted Harry, "You make me feel fire and happy and so damn frustrated."
"I want to snog you so badly right now," Draco practically growled, "But I'm not going to take advantage of you in your current delicate situation..."
Harry whined in protest.
"Come, Potter," And then Draco is gripping Harry's hand again, pulling them along.
Ron and Hermione looked up in surprise as they exit the room, "You guys really weren't fucking?"
"Fuck off!" Draco yelled, and tugged Harry out of before anyone could say anything else.
/*/*/*/*/*
Groaning in protest, Harry sputtered, "Why is it that you're constantly dragging me around?"
Stopping suddenly, Draco turned around, "Shit! I forgot you were injured! Are you okay, Potter?"
"I'm fine, I've been through a lot worse-"
"That doesn't make me feel any better-"
"Where are you taking me anyway?"
Smirking, Draco turned to the door that had suddenly appeared in front of them, "Where do you think, Potter?"
"The Room of Requirement?"
Everything is burning, as Harry turns back, broom sweeping, only to see Crabbe falling in the the heat. Malfoy looks back, staring at the space his dear friend once occupied, and screams.
Draco must see the look on Harry's face because he said, "It was hard, at first. But this summer I was one of the volunteers who helped rebuild Hogwarts, and I fixed up the room. I made my peace."
Not knowing what to say, he didn't say anything.
Draco swept open the door dramatically, "Welcome to my oasis..."
Immediately Harry's breath was taken away, as the room was an elegant green with swooping arches and a tall ceiling. The ceiling had an intricate painting on it, made of only the colour silver. "Whoa..." Harry whispered in awe, voice echoing in the vast room. But that wasn't all, scattered neatly through out the room was a wide variety of instruments. A grand piano, an organ on one side of the room, a violin, and a bigger violin? A cello, a guitar, and so much more.
"Holy shit, how many instruments do you play?"
Draco was wearing that signature smirk as he gloated, "How ever many I want too-"
"Play something?"
"What instrument?" Drawled Draco, loving the fact he was able to show off.
"Doesn't matter," Harry glanced around at the many instruments around the vast room, "Um.. Cello?" (You're welcome Grace)
As Draco glided over to the cello, Harry couldn't help but notice how even in muggle clothes, he managed to look like a fucking angel, "I'll play the Cello solo from The Swan, or Le Cygne."
A chair appeared curtesy of the room, and Draco grabbed his cello. Suddenly the soft sweeping sound of music fills the huge room. In a trance, Draco played a soft, yet dramatic piece, that fit perfectly with him. Eyes closed, Draco played as Harry watched him, smitten.
The piece was low and high and soft and loud and beautiful. All too soon and all to slowly the piece ended. Opening his pale grey eyes, the blond stares up at Harry, smirk replaced with a soft smile.
"My mother used to hum that to me so I could sleep. When ever we'd go to France, she's take me to see it played by a real orchestra. After I saw if for the first time, I was insistent on playing the cello. My father bought one for me even though it was considered very muggle, and immediately after that I feel in love with the viola. Music is my freedom..."
Harry wants to kiss him desperately, but he can't bring himself to because all he wants to do is enjoy this moment. "Do you speak French?"
Draco was grinning, a real one, as he replied, "Of course. I'm a very cultured man."
"Say something then?"
"Peut importe le nombre de cicatrices que tu as, je t'aime" Draco whispered softly, and Harry had no idea what he just said but he loved it anyway because they way Draco's lips formed the words is simply enchanting. And hot as hell.
To cover up his blushing face, Harry asked, "What does that mean?"
Soft expression going evil, Draco laughed, "Where's the fun in telling you?"
"Evil bastard."
Draco set down his cello, "Fine, I'll make it up to you," Looking Harry up and down, he thought out loud, "You have the look of a cello player, come here."
"Bossy prat," Harry complained, but walked over anyway.
Shoving Harry down into the chair, Draco said, "I'm going to teach you to play a Mozart piece-"
"A Mozart piece? Isn't that a little hard? And a little muggle for you?"
"Mozart was actually a wizard you daft idiot, and does twinkle twinkle little star seem hard to you?"
Harry was more surprised that Mozart wrote twinkle twinkle little start then that he was a wizard, "He did?"
"Well there a speculations he stole it from a woman and then took credit for it... Stop distracting me Potter!"
"Sorry-"
"Ten Galleons," Draco smirked.
"Fuck you-"
"Shut up and let me teach you." Draco handed him the instrument. And then Draco's arms are around Harry, putting his awkward limbs into the right place. Harry could feel every place they were touching because every place they were touching was on fire. Draco plucked the thickest string, "This is the C string," He said, and his mouth is right next to Harry's ear so those goddamn vibrations are spreading everywhere.
He plucked the string next to it, "This is the G string, we won't be using those two." Harry can do nothing but nod mutely, "This is the D string, and this is the A string, " Both strings are promptly plucked, "Those are the two we'll be using."
"We'll?" Harry managed to ask.
"After you learn properly, I shall accompany you on my viola."
"Oh."
As Draco instructed him on where to place his fingers and when, Harry really did try his best to pay attention, but Draco was just so fucking distracting. The way his soft blond hair tickled Harry's cheek and neck, his harsh silver eyes, his body leaning against Harry's- "Are you even listening to me, Potter?"
"I am!" Harry said defensively.
"Then show me the note B?" Harry scrambled through the last ten minutes of conversation, before placing his first finger on the A string. "Fine," Draco huffed, "Try playing it?"
When Harry reached for the bow, Draco hit his hand roughly, "You pluck first, bow is harder." Harry nodded, before furring his brow in concentration, hoping the simple song will form it's self.
It doesn't.
Yet, Draco was patient, "Here, Potter," He gently grabbed one of Harry's thick fingers, and placed it in it's proper place.
"Ohh!" Harry murmured, feeling slightly idiotic.
"Not everyone is a natural like me," Draco drawled, showing through his snarky statement that it was perfectly alright that Harry failed completely and utterly at playing the Cello. "Let's try something else..." And then he places his soft hands over Harry's, and although it's awkward at first, he managed to play the song using Harry's fingers.
"I think I get it now!" Harry yelped in happiness, because fucking finally. Slowly, but surely, he's able to make out twinkle twinkle little star. "Did I just?"
"Good job, Potter."
"Holy shit, I just played the cello!"
Ignoring the fact he had just complimented Harry a moment earlier, Draco replied, "Poorly."
"Can I try the bow now?"
Learning to play with the bow took a little bit longer, but soon Harry can play is easily.
As Draco left to go grab his viola, Harry pondered: How on Earth did they get here? First, they were in the woods escaping fucking Death Eaters. Then, he was in the infirmary for three days. Next, he woke up, nearly kissed Draco and then been scolded by Madame Pomfry. Then he had explained his fucking scars and cuts to his former nemesis, before being dragged here. Now, he was playing twinkle twinkle little star on an instrument he had never actually seen in real life before now.
Life never ceased being complicated for him. (Or maybe it was because the Author is shitty at plot)
Draco returned with his viola (Which Harry learned was not a violin, and if he ever called it that again he would die a slow and painful death), and they tried to play the song together.
At first it failed horribly, the notes practically screeching. But after several tries, they managed to at least sound decent.
As they played Twinkle twinkle little star, their two instruments harmonising, Harry thought, despite everything that had led them to being here, there was no where he'd rather be.
"Peut importe le nombre de cicatrices que tu as, je t'aime"
/*/*/*/*/*
Angst, Sexual Tension, and Fluff! All in one chapter!
Please tell me what you think!
Also, the french means; No matter how many scars you have, I love you.