Quiet warmth was what he knew. The slide of creamy soft sheets around his legs, the warmth of a body spooned to his, an arm wrapped possessively around his waist; these were the sensations perceived with Draco's emerging awareness from the deep well of sleep. Stretching slightly, he curled back under the covers, his fingers toying with the hem of their satiny duvet, as he shifted toward the heat of Harry's body.
His eyelids flickered, the pupils racing beneath pale skin, and finally they lifted to reveal hazy blue-grey eyes that were moving on the path between the soft and unknown place of dreams and fantasy, and the bright morning light of reality. The trip was not long or winding, and there were no detours back into hazy half-awareness and Draco awoke suddenly.
His eyes popped open, wide, bright and startled. It was morning. It was half-past morning, actually. The clock, the Clock, oh shit, Shit, SHIT! The alarm didn't go off, 10:33 Malfoy's mind screamed at him. Throwing off the covers, his feet hit the chilly floor, and for one brief instant, a tiny voice inside said, Go back to bed, it's warm, and Harry's there. Draco paused, the heels of his hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and then he felt two arms wrap around his waist, and the soft press of lips to his lower back.
"Harry, not now, I've got to go, I'm late," Draco said, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. He went to rise, but the arms tightened around his waist, and he sat back on the edge of the bed.
"No," Harry said, pulling Draco back into the middle of the bed. He'd held Draco most of the night, sometimes with his arms wrapped around him, sometimes, just spooned together like matching flatware, and sometimes, just resting with Draco sprawled over him. Harry had watched the blond sleep, his head resting on Harry's arm, his soft breath tickling his skin with every breath he took. Harry could still feel Draco's soft hair between his fingers, the ice-white strands drifting through his fingers, falling to frame his lover's face. He'd wanted more; the taste of his lips on his, the soft breath becoming harsh and gasping, the feel of body moving against his, and mostly the feeling of being loved and filled by this blond god in his bed. But, Harry had been content to hold the sleeping dragon for this short time, knowing these quiet actions were never enough.
"You're not late Draco," Harry said quietly, releasing Draco and maneuvering to sit across from him, the blankets bunched around his waist. He looked at his hands, studying his nails, down at his feet, anywhere but into the eyes of his lover, but finally his gaze ended there, staring into darkening slate colored eyes. Again, Harry hesitated, stalling, not wanting to say the words that he knew would anger Draco, but knowing that he would have to eventually.
"What do you mean, I'm not late?" Draco asked, irritated from his abrupt awakening, and Harry's odd hesitation. Didn't Harry understand anything? Time was money. He had a business to run, meetings to attend about the Malfoy estates, a trip to arrange to visit his mother, and he was running late; and nothing pissed Draco off more than being behind. If he hurried and cast as many grooming spells as possible, he would just be able to make the first meeting. This was a piss poor way to start the day and it showed on his face.
Placing his hand on Draco's forearm, Harry could feel the tension beginning in his body, the muscle beneath his hand quivering. "I canceled your appointments. I called Ramone and asked him to handle the shop today for you," Harry said, stiffening, waiting for the coming explosion.
"You what?" Draco exploded, throwing Harry's hand off. "What were you thinking? What gives you the right, to, to…" Draco said, his anger causing him to stutter, the words caught behind his growing rage.
"Take over your life," Harry said, his voice firm and defiant. It wasn't about taking control of his partner's life. It wasn't about being in control at all. It was about giving control of Draco's life back to him. The work, the meetings, the late hours, and the never-ending stress had finally taken its toll on Draco… and Harry.
Draco's cheeks had flushed to a rosy tint, his hands clenched into fists, the scowl of first year scrawled across his face, and Harry fought the urge to laugh in his face.
"Fuck Harry!" Draco said, jumping off the bed, and whirling around to face his boyfriend. "This isn't even remotely funny. This is my life, not yours. What ever gave you idea that you could call the shop, cancel my meetings," Draco stopped. He was almost dumbstruck at Harry's audacity. He sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. "You've no right to even try taking over my life."
"I've no right? Harry said slowly, his own anger rearing its ugly head, almost like a serpent preparing to strike. He clambered off the bed and faced Draco. He shook his head. "You're gone all the time, you look like death warmed over, you're fucking killing yourself going in every direction." Harry's eyes shone with emerald fire. "I've no right?"
The kind, gentle boyfriend Draco had once known was gone. In its place was a snarling Gryffindor fighting for its mate. But the blond Slytherin was just as vicious.
"No you don't!" Draco shouted, his anger taking him back to the past. The almost forgotten fights bringing back all the hurts and unsaid rage back to the present. And for one brief moment he was a student again; once again Harry Potter was thwarting his plans. "You have no idea what I'm trying to do! You think I like running myself ragged? You think it's all about making the Malfoy name respectable again? With his hands on his hips, he glared at Harry.
"Well, what is it about then, Draco?" Harry hissed. "It's certainly not about us being together or anything that involves me, is it? Heaven forbid that you consider me part of your life." Harry paused, gauging Draco's reaction to his words. "Or am I just your little fuck toy?"
"Damn you! Can't you see that I don't want to be known as my father's son? That I want to prove that this Malfoy isn't a mindless follower?" Draco drew in a deep breath, and pointed his finger at Harry and now each word was followed by a vicious poke at Harry's face. "You need to grow up Harry. I have responsibilities! Re-spon-si-bilities," Draco said. "Something you know nothing about."
Harry stared at Draco, and something shuttered behind his eyes. The dark-haired man accio'd his trousers, his fingers clumsy with impatience. Hissing words poured from his mouth, and Draco shuddered. Memories of second year and hearing Harry speak in Parseltongue for the first time sent a shiver down his spine. For once, Draco was glad that he didn't understand snake language.
"So you've got responsibilities? And I know nothing about that at all? Do you think it was all fun and games for me during school?" Harry said, his voice low and flat. "Well, please don't consider me one of your many responsibilities," Harry finished, hooking his fingers in quote signs.
Draco blew his breath out in frustration. "You just don't understand at all. Can't you see that this is something I have to do. For me." Draco paused, weighing his words. "For us."
"Like you've ever done something for the both of us. This is all about you, not me, not the Malfoy estates, not your father or your mother. It's all about Draco and his responsibilities."
"Harry, listen to me," Draco started.
"No! You listen to me! Harry shouted, struggling to pull his trousers up and fasten the belt. He turned and reached for his shirt, and then shot an angry glance at the silent blond across from him.
"Its time I did something for the both of us this time," Harry said. He turned on his heel and apparated, vanishing with a tiny pop.
Draco sat back on the bed. He didn't want to deal with this. He didn't want to deal with anything right now. He rubbed his eyes wearily. Fuck all. He'd just gotten up, and he was exhausted already.
And Harry was gone. Not a goodbye, or piss off, or anything. He was gone.
The vague memory of being held came to his mind. A warm bath, soothing hands, caressing hands, the vague feeling of being complete. Now it was gone. Gone in harsh words and anger. Gone in neglect and denial. All that was left were responsibilities… and the damn ring he'd taken from his father.
Draco sighed. If he still hurried, he could still stop at the barristers and take care of the problem with the estate in France.
xxxxx
Harry shifted uneasily from foot to foot. Early December wasn't a good time to apparate without ones shoes. And with Mrs. Henderson from across the way watching him through the window, it probably wasn't a good idea to transfigure some. Harry mimicked putting a key in the door and shrugged. He pretended to knock, figuring that once she saw that, she would leave the window and go back to her talk shows. He'd pop back in after Draco had left. Then he'd figure out where he wanted to go.