Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and those to whom she has licensed her creations, including without limitation Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I make no money from this and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N:As always, great thanks to Sansa for her fantastic beta skills and wonderful cheerleading. Also, thank you all for your wonderful reviews! You have no idea how much they mean to me. I am in awe of your thoughtfulness and your sharing. This is the penultimate chapter in Draco's Boy and, in many ways, our goodbye to Severus and Narcissa.
CHAPTER 30: We Are Family
Harry finally understood what it meant to wait for the other shoe to drop. He'd thought he'd understood it growing up with Uncle Vernon, watching the anger build, wondering when the tension would snap. It hadn't mattered so much because Vernon was a disgusting waste of flesh. He had cared for Vernon once, perhaps, when he still thought he deserved love, before he understood the way the world worked.
He looked at the clock on the far wall. Only seven in the morning. Damn.
He'd yet to see Professor Snape or Draco. He squirmed at the thought of how angry Professor Snape would be. And what about Draco? He was probably so disgusted with Harry that he wouldn't come at all.
"You might just be released today, Harry," the cheery nurse said, startling Harry from his thoughts.
"Erm, sorry?"
The nurse clucked her tongue while she wrote something down on his chart. "Poor lamb, bet you're tired. I know it's no fun to be poked and prodded all night. And I'm sure that shoulder smarts. My goodness me! It's been nearly eight hours since you last had any pain medication."
Harry nodded numbly, only just feeling the ever-present pain in his shoulder and his head. He'd refused it last time. He felt—and he didn't understand it, mind—guilty without the pain. He'd done something wrong. He shouldn't be rewarded for it.
"We'll give you some now, all right?" The nurse didn't give Harry the option of refusing. "Now I know you young lads. Don't fight it if it makes you drowsy. I daresay you could do with a bit of a kip."
Harry nodded again, grateful for anything that kept him from thinking about Professor Snape and Draco.
"There we are," she said, even as Harry felt soft warmth wash over him, dulling the pain. "Your—well, I'm not sure what she is, your aunt perhaps?"
Cold fear gripped Harry, stealing his breath. 'Aunt Petunia?' he thought.
"She has the most gorgeous blonde hair. Bet it's natural, too. Is it?"
"What?" Harry croaked, his heart still racing.
The nurse clucked her tongue again. "Poor lamb. You really are tired, aren't you? Your aunt's hair? Narcissa, I think? Is it natural?"
Harry stared at the nurse, not sure what she wanted or why he cared if Mrs. Malfoy's hair was naturally blonde. Perhaps because it was so pale, it seemed to refract light rather than merely reflect it. In the end, he nodded.
Satisfied, the nurse gave him a toothy grin. She plumped his pillows, smoothed his blanket adjusted his foot, his arm—in short, she did everything she could to make him comfortable.
As Harry drifted to sleep, he wondered why on Earth she'd do such a thing. Didn't she know he tried to run away from school? That it was his fault he was in hospital? That he'd made a fucking mess of his life?
DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
It was half eleven. Still hours before Professor Snape might arrive, given that it was the final day of term. What would he say? More importantly, what would he do? And what about Draco? Surely he should have seen Draco by now. Why hadn't he visited over the weekend? Why hadn't he sat with Harry? Harry hadn't been asleep all day. Alarm raced up and down his spine. Was Draco avoiding him? Well, why not? Wouldn't he do the same? Bloody hell, he'd completely screwed everything up.
"Harry? Are you quite all right? Are you in pain? That's it, I'm calling the doctor."
"Wait!" Harry called, finally wrenching himself of his stupor.
Mrs. Malfoy turned, a nauseatingly expectant smile on her face.
"I'm fine. I mean, I . . . I don't need anything."
"Oh," Mrs. Malfoy said, looking a bit lost. "All right, then, would you like a book? Some of your friends from school brought a few things for you from—from school."
"Erm . . . I—Are they here? Is Draco here?"
"No, I'm sorry. They had to get back for the last day of term. Draco should be by later."
"Oh."
"A book, then?"
"What?"
"Would you like a book? I can sort through them and find one for you. Get you some juice, perhaps? The nurse said she saved some of your favorite."
"I . . . You don't have to stay, or anything."
"Do you not want me too? I'm sure I can . . . Well, Draco and Severus will be along soon, I just thought—"
"No, I mean—what I meant was you shouldn't feel like you have to stay. I mean, you don't have to. Stay, I mean. Unless you want to."
"Harry—"
"I'm okay. Really. Don't, erm, don't feel obligated or something."
Mrs. Malfoy marched back to his bedside —there was no other way to describe her curious determination—sat in the chair, took his free hand carefully, and stared him in the eyes. Brilliant. Fine, then. Time to get this sorted.
"Look, Mrs. Malfoy. I understand."
Mrs. Malfoy blinked, looking perplexed. "What are you—?"
"I know you don't like me."
"What? Harry, you've got—"
"I know you don't think I'm good enough for him. Especially after what I've done."
"Now stop this right—"
"I mean, that's why I couldn't come with you on holiday, right?"
Mrs. Malfoy's eyes softened. She looked like she might cry. God. Harry hoped she wouldn't cry.
"Oh, Harry. Are all teenaged boys as daft as you?"
"What?"
"Scratch that. They are. I think it's a mandatory trait for all young men. Young men—well, older ones, too, for that matter—are terribly daft."
"What the bloody fuc—"
"Language." Mrs. Malfoy gave him that hard stare of hers, the one that used to make him quail when she'd found he and Draco getting into mischief. "Now. We're going to sort this right now. I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen, understood?"
Harry nodded.
"I care for you very, very much. I'm thrilled that you and Draco have found each other. As for the spring holiday, I understood that you were required to stay at school for a disciplinary infraction." There was that hard stare again. "I doubted seriously that you'd spoken of it to Draco and, in an effort to save you some embarrassment, Severus and I thought it wise that Draco and I go on a family trip together. Is that clear?"
Harry nodded again, hardly believing what he was hearing.
Mrs. Malfoy reached out and smoothed back his hair. "You are a wonderful young man, one that I have come to think of as part of my family. And because of that, I'm even sorrier about how I wronged you all those years ago. I'm so very sorry."
Harry looked away, sure that his face was flaming red. God, couldn't they just do this without the tearful confessions? "It's okay. It wasn't a big deal or anything."
"But it was. I wonder if you'd be here, in hospital, if I'd done the right thing then."
"Stop it. Just—I don't want to talk about this. It's done."
Harry looked away and stared out of the window. He heard Mrs. Malfoy sigh. A chair scraped across the floor.
"Well," Mrs. Malfoy began. "I'll just get your prescriptions filled. The doctor said you'd probably be released this evening."
Harry heard the door open and regret rushed through him.
"Mrs. Malfoy, wait!"
Mrs. Malfoy turned back, her expression questioning.
"I—I—"
"Shh. Get some sleep. It's a long trip home and I'd like you to be as rested as possible."
Harry nodded.
"It's going to be fine."
She smiled and left, closing the door softly behind her.
DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
Harry looked at the clock. It was half four. The last botany class had ended almost an hour ago. Professor Snape could have left the school as early as half an hour ago. No doubt, Draco was with him. His last class ended earlier in the day, so that wouldn't slow Snape down. Harry estimated that it would take them nearly twenty minutes to drive into town. Parking in the middle of the day might be tricky, but once done it would probably only take them a few minutes to get inside the hospital, inquire as to his floor, and arrive. Professor Snape could burst through the door at any moment . . . any moment, now. Harry prepared himself.
Nearly fifteen minutes later, and as if fate had divined the cue, the door to Harry's room opened. At the precise click of polished dress shoes across the floor, Harry steeled himself to do battle.
"Mr. Potter," Snape said with a nod.
"Professor Snape."
The opening bows had been exchanged. Now it was a simple matter of taking their places. Vernon had rarely observed the niceties of a gentleman's duel, so Harry was ready for any sly tricks Snape might use.
Snape looked at him for a long time—as if sizing up his weaknesses—before whirling around and staring out of the window.
"Your final project was very good. Not quite full marks, but still commendable," he said in a soft murmur.
Not the opening sally Harry had expected. "Erm, thanks," he said cautiously, his eyes shooting towards the door and eyeing the IV line still in his arm.
"Draco was kind enough to turn in your journal. Mr. Longbottom tended to your experiment once he'd heard you were in hospital."
Harry's face flushed with shame. So Snape was going the humiliation route, was he? Harry was ready for that. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll have to send a note," he said, pleased at his venomous sarcastic.
Snape wouldn't like that a bit. Harry waited, ready for that damn shoe to stop dangling over his head. But he got little more than a tightened jaw from Snape.
"Thank you notes would be appropriate, given the circumstances. Do you have Mr. Longbottom's address?" Snape asked.
"No."
"I'll make sure you get it."
Harry said nothing in return.
Snape pursed his lips into a thin line. "Have you been well cared for? Are you in any pain?"
"Why Professor, I didn't know you cared."
"Answer the question, Potter."
"No."
"What? Are you refusing to answer my que—"
"I gave you my answer. No."
Snape inhaled sharply and his fists tightened.
"Am I to understand that you have not been well cared for, but you are also not in any pain?"
Harry smirked. "No."
Snape whirled around and stalked forward. Harry pressed himself into the mattress, refusing to let his bland expression change in the slightest.
"I know what you're doing. These games won't work. Not anymore."
"What games, Professor? I don't know what you're talking about."
"Potter," Snape growled in warning.
Harry donned his 'irritatingly-innocent' face. Vernon loved that one. "Sorry, sir. I'm just trying to answer your questions. Have I got them wrong?"
"Spare me. You know precisely what you're doing."
Snape looked at him speculatively for a moment before he advanced.
"Tell me, Potter, does it not matter to you that you nearly died?"
"Please. I didn't—"
"You should have seen Draco. Incoherent with grief. He was certain that you were dead."
"Draco? But—I haven't seen—He hasn't been—"
"He found you. Sprawled at the bottom of a hill, unconscious, bleeding."
The words pierced Harry, cutting through his ragged defenses. His face contorted, snarling, "Oh, come on. So I fell. Got a little banged up. So what?"
"Got a little banged—has it escaped your notice where you are? Do you not know what these white walls, and machines and bandages mean? Perhaps the doctor's decision to release you is hasty. Clearly your brain is still addled."
"And you're a barmy old bugger who needs to get laid," Harry blurted, his anger sharp and desperate to jab at anything it could.
"You've got desperate, if that's what you think will wound me. I didn't think I'd be plumbing the depths of your cowardice so soon in the conversation."
"I am not a coward!"
"I disagree," Snape said, his face relaxed, his eyes alight with what looked like victory to Harry. "I think you're the biggest coward it has ever been my misfortune to meet."
"I am not!" Harry cried, knowing—not caring—that he'd let this get too far away from him, that he was striking out blindly and Snape was making precise parries.
"Things got tough, so you ran away. You put your friends in terrible danger, put yourself in even greater peril, and there you are, worse for wear in a hospital bed, playing immature games, flinging weak, juvenile curses at your teacher because you're afraid to admit that you're scared and that you need help. That is the epitome of a coward."
"You don't know a damn thing about me. You're the fucking coward. What a waste you are. Day in and out with nothing but plants, can't even see it when a woman wants you, or maybe you do but you're too much of a coward to do a damn thing about it."
"If I hadn't known you were a hormonal teenager before, I know it now. You think everything revolves around sex—"
"—bet you wouldn't even know what to do with a woman, would you? I bet you don't know the first thing about—"
"Enough!" Professor Snape charged forward, his face twisted with murderous rage. This was it. This was what Harry had been waiting for. "Not another word!" Snape hissed, looming over Harry. "Another word, and I'll—"
"What are you going to do? Hit me?" Harry leaned forward and stuck his jaw out as Snape drew back, his eyebrows arched with surprise. "Go ahead. Hit me and be done with it."
Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the blow.
"Harry—"
"I can take it. I'll show you that I'm not a fucking coward! What are you fucking waiting for? Hit me!" Harry screamed.
Professor Snape remained impassive. He didn't say a word as he took a step back and folded his arms. He looked at Harry as if he were a sad little puppy in need of a good meal and a warm blanket. Snape pitied him. He pitied him.
And the other shoe dropped.
"Who's the coward now?" Harry taunted, desperate to regain his footing.
Professor Snape swooped forward and grasped Harry's right shoulder. Harry gasped in surprise.
"I will never hit you, nor will anyone else if I can help it. That is not the way things work—"
"But—"
"I will never hit you."
"Yes you will. You'll see. I'll—"
"Listen to me, you idiot boy!"
Harry expected Snape's fingers to dig into his shoulder, squeezing painfully. Instead they slid to the back of Harry's neck, gently cupping his head, almost cradling it.
"I could not be angrier with you than I am right now. You stole a horse! Do you not understand that you committed a crime? And far worse is that you tried to run away from school, nearly getting yourself killed in the process. I am so angry with you that I would love nothing more than to shake you until sense fell from the heavens and filtered into your brain—"
"See? I told you, you're just like hi—"
"Don't you dare compare me to that disgusting pile of flesh! I will never hit you. I will not starve you. I will not make you go without simply because you're human and an idiotic teenager. No one will ever do those things to you again, if I have anything to say about it."
"But—"
"No, Harry. No. Never again."
"But—"
"Never again."
"But I—I stole a horse, and ran away, and got—who's going to pay for all of this? How can you possibly—why would anyone—I'm just—I—I don't understand!"
"Harry—"
"I—I'm supposed to be punished. It's not a big deal, you know. It doesn't even hurt most of the time. Not much. And then it's over. And things are normal. But I don't . . . I don't understand what you want."
"Harry—"
"I'll do whatever you want. You can do whatever you want. Just—please don't send me back there. I know that's where I was headed. I just . . . please not there. I'll—"
"Harry, stop!"
Professor Snape sat down in the hard plastic chair next to Harry's bed. "I want you to listen to me. You are not going back to the Dursleys. I have—I have arranged things for you."
"But Chile—"
"Do not interrupt me again, is that clear?"
Harry nodded.
"You were not the best choice for Chile."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but the look in Professor Snape's eyes—the one that screamed, I dare you to—had him closing it in the next instant.
"Chile was not the right opportunity for you. I arranged for you to work with one of my colleagues who's doing some experimental work in his lab near London, which allows you to live with Draco and Narcissa, but receive the enrichment and make the contacts you'll need should you continue on in this course of study."
Stunned, Harry's mouth fell open and his eyebrows shot up.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you before, but it wasn't fully arranged until last week and your infuriating behavior in my class did not give me the opportunity to tell you."
"But—"
"That does not excuse the fact that I left you to sulk for days without telling you about this."
Harry sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted and headachy. He would never understand this world. "It's fine."
"No. It's not. I should have told you. However that does not excuse what you did, what you've done. You are out of control and there must be consequences for your actions. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded and looked away. Okay, so Snape wasn't going to hit him. But he would be expelled, and then where would he go?
"I'm to be expelled, then. Sent off to—to—where exactly are you sending me?"
Professor Snape looked tired. "You're not going to be expelled."
"What? How's that possible. I mean . . . how's that possible? I don't understand."
"I know you don't. That's part of the problem."
"What?"
Professor Snape sighed and stood up, again staring out of the window.
"You won't be expelled. Despite your disciplinary issues, your marks were respectable."
"Respectable?"
"Yes. Others might say they were quite good. Fantastic, if you were Narcissa."
Harry snorted.
"You've done well at Wolsford, academically, and neither I nor the headmaster have any intention of involuntarily removing you. However, there are conditions to your return in September. First, once you're healed you will begin real riding lessons, three days a week."
"What? No thanks. If I never get on a horse again, it will be too soon."
"What gave you the impression that you had a right to discuss the terms of your return?"
"I—"
"Not. Another. Word."
Harry looked away, his face flushed with shame.
"You're going to get back on a horse and you're going to learn to properly handle yourself. Most importantly, you're going to learn to fall so that, hopefully, nothing like this ever happens again. Do you understand me?"
Harry nodded, surprised at the way Professor Snape's voice almost cracked at the end.
"Right. Next term you will be mucking out the stalls every night. No riding unless accompanied by me or Mr. Hagrid and only for an hour every other week."
"What about Buck—"
"Because of your actions, Buckbeak has been removed from the school."
"You can't kill—"
"Quiet! I didn't say anything about killing him. But he clearly doesn't belong at a school. Especially one that sees fit to give adolescent boys free reign over the stables. Which reminds me, you will be required to return your key and formally apologize to Mr. Hagrid. In person."
"But I wrote a let—"
"In. Person. Understood?"
Harry nodded.
Professor Snape seemed to struggle with what else to say. He kept opening his mouth and closing it, setting his jaw each time.
"Professor Snape?"
As if he hadn't heard Harry's prompt, Professor Snape continued. "And, finally, you will be attending weekly counseling sessions and, perhaps, additional group therapy sessions starting next week. They will continue until I deem them no longer necessary."
"I don't need counseling. I just need for the adults in my life to tell me what the fuck is going on every once in a while."
"You will not speak to me that way and yes, you will be attending counseling if you want to attend Wolsford next term."
"But—"
"No. You—I know you don't see it, that you don't understand, but what they did to you—the Dursleys—it . . . it stays with you, long after you think you've beaten it, beaten them. It never leaves you, Harry. And you're not growing, you're coping. I—we—we want you to be able to do more than cope."
"It's done. It's finished. I don't want to talk about it."
"It's not finished. Your stay here, what you said earlier, is proof of that. And, frankly, this isn't up for discussion. You will go. You will talk. You will listen. And you will make the most of it."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I wash my hands of you. I will not continue to help someone who refuses to help himself."
"What?" Harry cried.
"Make no mistake, Harry. I—I care very deeply for you, but I won't stand by and watch you disintegrate because of your pride."
"You're not my father. You don't get to make these decisions for me!"
Professor Snape closed his eyes and swallowed. "No. I'm not. But if you—if you were my son . . . I'd do the same."
A great wash of warmth flooded Harry, making him want to cry, shout with glee, and laugh all at once. He didn't understand it. But maybe . . . maybe it was time to start learning to understand. Maybe he wanted to understand why Mrs. Malfoy wanted to plump his pillows and why the nurses were so cheery to him and why Draco smiled at him that certain way that made his insides turn to goo. And why Professor Snape's eyes pleaded with him to do this.
Harry sighed. "Yeah. Okay. Fine."
Professor Snape nodded once, his eyes shimmering with something else Harry wanted to understand. "Good boy," he said in that soft rumbling voice he used when he was pleased.
There was a knock at the door.
"Oh, excuse me," the nurse said. "I was just coming to check on Harry and start getting him ready for discharge."
Professor Snape nodded. "I was just finishing." He turned to Harry and slid his hand behind his neck and squeezed softly. "You have the capacity to make any father proud, Harry. Any father."
And before Harry could say anything, Professor Snape slipped away and left.
The nurse chattered on about how long it was taking for the discharge papers to get signed and was he looking forward to his summer. Harry nodded where appropriate, said a few words he'd never remember, the whole time thinking about what Professor Snape had said.
DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
Draco stared at the door. He knew he could go in. In fact, he assumed that his mother and godfather were lingering in the hall, discussing 'things' in an effort to give him some time alone with Harry. He'd been going mad from the wait. And now that he could see Harry, he wasn't sure what to do or say.
Voices down the corridor startled him. He looked back and saw his mother shooting odd looks his way, no doubt wondering why he hadn't gone in yet. Draco wondered about that himself. He swallowed and opened the door.
The first thing he felt was absolute relief. Harry was awake and staring out of the small window. He was alive.
"Harry?"
Harry turned. "Hi."
"Hi."
Draco stared at Harry, cataloguing the soft smile that was at odds with the anxious eyes. God, Harry was pale. And his head was all bandaged up, his arm in a tight sling, and his other wrist wrapped. There were beeping machines and IV stands and suddenly the reality of the situation came crashing down.
Harry had run away. Harry had tried to ride a horse far too much for him and had nearly got killed.
Draco was angry. He charged forward. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?"
The soft smile disappeared, the anxious eyes shuttered. Harry started to look away.
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare shut me out! Not again, not anymore."
"I don't nee—"
"Don't you understand? You could have died. You could be in a coma. You could be paralyzed!"
"It was just a fa—"
"It wasn't just a fall, you prat! You were . . . God, Harry, you were unconscious. You were bleeding everywhere. You were so cold. I thought . . . Fuck! Don't you ever do anything that bloody stupid again."
"Did you and Professor Snape plan this, or something? God, how many times can I say I'm sorry?"
"When I found you, at the bottom of that hill, that damn horse wandering around, I thought . . . I was sure you were dead."
Harry tossed his head and rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a dramatic prat. I'm fine."
"You call this fine? Bandaged up, bruised, and on bed rest for God knows how long? This is fine?"
"Look, I said I was sorry. If that's not good enough for you, then—then . . ." Harry slumped and closed his eyes, a prominent crease in his forehead standing out. "I don't know what you want from me," he said in a low, tired voice. "I've tried over and over to be what you want, but I don't even know what that is." Harry turned his head and shifted away from Draco. "I'm tired. Go away."
Draco didn't move. He wasn't going to let Harry push him away again.
Harry flipped over and sneered at Draco like he had when Draco had turned up on his doorstep a year prior, demanding to be let in.
"Didn't you hear me? I said go away!"
"I heard you. You can keep yelling, but I'm not leaving. Not this time." Draco scanned the room. "No glass. That's good," he said to himself.
Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "Why could you possibly want to stay?"
Draco took that as an invitation to sit down. "Do you remember when we were little? The first time I met you?"
"Yeah. You were snooping around the Dursleys' back garden, spying on me."
"I wasn't spying! I was observing. Figuring out if you were worth getting to know."
"Wish you'd made a different choice, now?"
"God, can't you just—damn it, Harry. No. That's not it. I'm—I wanted you even then, I think."
"Ooh. Kinky."
"Shut the fuck up and listen to me without all of this defensive shit!"
Harry's eyes grew large and he seemed to shrink until the bed swallowed him whole. He looked so much like the little lion Draco had known all those years ago—equal parts bravery and fear, huge secrets plunged deep inside.
"You weren't anything like them, the Dursleys. That's what I liked best about you. You were . . . you hummed this little tune while you worked, you talked to the butterflies and every once in a while, you'd let that maudlin little mask break. When that happened, I almost forgot to breathe.
"All I've seen for months is that mask, and I hate it."
"Draco—"
"No. I'm not finished. I don't know—I don't know why—I'm sorry! I'm sorry for whatever made you do something so stupid. I'm sorry for not coming out, for not throwing McLaggen out on his fat arse, for teaching you how to ride. I'm sorry for all of it, but please don't shut me out. Tell me how to fix it. Please."
"It wasn't your fault! It was me, I just . . . I don't . . . It's too hard, too much, too—"
And the more Harry went on, the more Draco knew what he wanted to say. But the words were so hard. He'd sound like a pansy. Harry would laugh at him or point and stare like he was a side-show freak.
"—There's nothing to fix! It's just . . . I don't belong there. With you. With any of you. I just—"
"I love you."
Harry's mouth popped open. Draco's heart hammered. Oh God, oh God. Fuck! What had he done?
"What did you say?"
"I said . . . I said . . ." Come on, man. You're made of sterner stuff than this! "I said, I love you." Draco sniffed. "Perhaps we should have the doctor check your hearing."
Draco was amazed at how much easier it was to say the second time, amazed at how much he meant it.
"You don't have to say—"
"Bollocks! I'm Draco Malfoy. I don't say things I don't mean, Potter. Or did you forget that?"
Harry had the most bemused expression on his face that Draco had ever seen. "Erm, no. I didn't forget."
"Well. Good." What now? How was Draco supposed to follow up after that? What should he say? Should he kiss him? Should he pet him, or something? No, Harry'd never go for any of that. "Erm, you probably need to get dressed, or something."
"Probably should. Yeah."
"I really do mean it. This isn't . . . I really do mean it."
Harry blushed a shade of red Draco was fairly certain nature had never seen. He ducked his head. "Yeah. I got that."
"Well, erm . . . yes, well, good. As long as that's clear."
"I don't—" Harry bit his lip and stared at Draco. "I—I. . . . Me too." Harry smiled softly, immediately turning his head.
It was like seeing Harry that day he'd chased the butterfly around the back garden. Draco couldn't breathe from the exultant joy lodged in his throat. "Brilliant."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
A soft silence fell between them, but not an unwelcome one. It gave Draco a chance to realize that he'd just told Harry he loved him and that Harry—in Harry's way—had said it back. How could people possibly get through the day feeling so giddy? He looked up and saw the dark circles under Harry's eyes. With all of the heartfelt confessions, he'd nearly forgot that Harry was still quite injured. A protectiveness that he'd not felt in a long time rose up inside of him. Harry, Draco decided, was his own worst enemy. Draco would have to do something about that. They all would.
"So, erm, I'll be back. Later. When Mum and I come to collect you. She's got a room all set up for you—been decorating it for ages. S'not bad. Nicer than mine, I think. Mum—well, you know Mum—she goes a bit overboard."
Harry laughed, softly. "Yeah."
Draco stood and gave Harry a soft kiss. "See you later."
Harry made an adorable sound in the back of his throat.
Oh, dear God! He was hearing adorable sounds now that he'd told Harry he loved him. He'd turned into a sap!
Harry nestled his face a bit closer to Draco's and kissed him.
Well, that was all right, then. Harry was a sap, too. Draco smiled and kissed Harry again.
DDDDDDDDDDDDDD"Your discharge papers are in order," the nurse said as she removed Harry's IV and bandaged his arm.
Harry nodded. Draco loves me.
"You'll need to be careful with that ankle and don't even think about removing that sling until the doctor says otherwise."
Harry nodded again, smiling to himself.
"You're on bed rest for awhile. I know you lads—you think you get out of hospital and that it's license to run around as if nothing's happened. I'd better not see that from you."
Harry made a noise in the back of his throat—something that sounded vaguely like agreement—while thinking about the way Draco had kissed him so possessively. Harry didn't usually like that, but it felt good to be wanted.
"Harry?" The nurse sighed. Why, Harry had no idea. "Right. And it says here that you can only wear pink pyjama bottoms and that you must answer all questions with a song. Oh, and feel free to disregard the ballet dancing elephant that will surely visit."
"Erm, what? Elephants?" Harry asked, jerked away from his thoughts of Draco. God, he was turning into such a sap.
The nurse laughed. "Your mind's a million miles away. I had to do something to bring you back."
"Oh. Right. Erm, sorry. Just—I—sorry."
"No need to explain. Time for you to leave. We've got a nice wheelchair with your name written all over it."
Harry groaned. "Can't I just . . . I dunno, walk or something?"
The nurse's answering laugh and incredulous expression told Harry exactly what she thought of that idea.
"Oh, fine," he groused, edging off the bed and secretly grateful that he didn't have to take more than a few wobbly steps to get to the wheelchair.
"It's just for a little while," she said as she wheeled him out of the room.
Mrs. Malfoy, Draco and Professor Snape were waiting for him down the corridor, their faces expectant and happy to see him. It was like he'd always imagined it. A proper family.
Harry supposed he had one of those now.