Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.
Author's note: In this chapter I use the word "pissed" in the British sense, meaning 'drunk'. Draco doesn't mean he's 'angry'.
All chapter titles are taken from the Ministry of Magic pamphlet, Towards Tomorrow Together by Percy Weasley.
Peace Reigns Everywhere
It was a dusty corridor in late afternoon. Percy let go of Draco's arm, knocked on the door in front of them and Disapparated. The crack made Draco's ears ring. He was feeling nauseated and disturbed. He stared straight ahead. Charlie stared back. He stood in the now open doorway, looking sheepish.
"You coming in?" he asked.
Draco shrugged. He wasn't capable of making a decision.
"I'm pissed," he answered.
In a shaky voice, Charlie asked, "Where have you been?"
"Getting pissed," Draco replied. He rubbed at his chin. Dried vomit. Nice.
Charlie said, "I'm really, really so sorry. I can't even believe how sorry I am. It was unforgivable, I wouldn't forgive me, but you have to."
It didn't quite make sense, but maybe that was the alcohol. Draco couldn't remember why he didn't want to go into Charlie's room. And the more he looked at Charlie's sad, freckled, blue-eyed, apologetic face, the less he remembered.
"I'm too pissed, Charlie. I feel sick," he whined. He pushed past Charlie into the room, brushing against his muscular shoulders. Percy had made him feel icy but seeing Charlie made him warm and tired. Draco scraped off his shoes, slumped onto the bed and went to sleep.
He woke late in the evening with a raging thirst, a pounding headache and a full bladder. When he moved, his brain and body lurched unpleasantly. He staggered to the loo. Unsure of his balance, he sat down and closed his eyes.
Then there was a comforting hand stroking his back and a cool glass at his lips. He opened his sore eyes: Charlie, of course.
"Drink that," Charlie said. "You'll feel better."
Draco drank the potion and then several glasses of water. "This doesn't mean I've forgiven you," he warned. He felt drowsy, but the sickness and headache eased. Charlie slid one arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees. Gently, he carried him back to the bed.
The next time Draco woke it was deep, dark night. He was on top of the bedding, fully clothed, and so was Charlie, propped up on one elbow, watching him.
"How do you feel?"
"Fine," Draco answered. "I'd like the recipe for that potion."
"You'd be better off drinking less Firewhiskey."
"I like potions," Draco insisted, closing his eyes again. "I mean they're an interest of mine."
"I'll get you the recipe then," Charlie conceded. He stroked Draco's forehead.
Draco dozed lightly for a couple of minutes. He wished he was still tired enough to sleep. Awake, he had to face things. He opened his eyes and faced Charlie.
"I hate you," he said.
"You should do," Charlie agreed.
"I think you apologised last night, but it's a bit blurry."
"I did. And I'll keep doing it 'til you forgive me. I am the most sorry I've ever been about anything ever. I thought I'd lost my favourite thing. You," Charlie said, honestly.
"Why did you say his name?" Draco asked.
"I don't know. I'm stupid," Charlie answered.
You do know. And so do I, Draco thought. If you knew him you wouldn't even like him. But he said nothing.
They lay beside each other, not touching, watching each other in silence.
Eventually Charlie said, "Tell me what to do to make things right again."
Draco languidly stretched out an arm, palm flat and empty, saying, "The head of Harry Potter on a plate would do it."
Charlie shook his head slowly. Draco pouted, then stretched his arms above his head and tried for a bored, resigned voice as he said, "Oh, well, while I'm thinking about it you might as well try a blow job I suppose."
Charlie grinned, thinking he'd been forgiven. Eagerly, he pushed up Draco's robes. The same silk boxer shorts, though it felt like so long ago. Charlie eased them down again.
Later still, Draco woke with a start which woke Charlie. Grey light and birdsong were coming through the curtains. He sat up in a panic and said, "I forgot to go home!"
"They won't be up yet, if you sneak into bed now they'll think you were there all night. That's what we used to do," Charlie answered drowsily.
But Draco, pale and scared, shook his head, bit his lip, explained in a whisper, "I don't have the password, they won't give me it, I have to Apparate to the front door and knock. They know. I'm in trouble."
From the way he said it, Charlie knew he didn't mean a bollocking or a grounding. He pulled the rigid, skinny, naked body to him, tried to surround it with his own warmth, his strength. Draco didn't relax, he clung.
The knocking ceased when the door flew open. The man inside snorted, it wasn't who he was expecting. He looked beyond the ragged man on the doorstep, peering down the path. Then he turned to his visitor with bored disdain.
"What do you want at this time of the morning?" he demanded, looking down his nose in disgust.
"I can do you a favour. But it'll cost you," answered the dishevelled figure.
"Not more of my wife's heirlooms? I'm busy."
"I understand you've lost something. I know who's got it and where they are. Perhaps I should say 'someone'."
He had the other man's full attention now. "You know where he is? This had better be good, Fletcher. I can make you wish …"
"Wish I'd never been born, Mr Malfoy. I know," Mundungus finished for him.
Charlie and Draco were naked and entwined when the door exploded, admitting an incandescently angry Lucius Malfoy. Draco sprang back and pulled the sheet over him, curling into a ball. Charlie was stilled by shock.
"Draco! Dress! Here! Now!" his father spat.
Terrified, Draco scrambled from the bed and started to gather his clothes hurriedly.
"You stay right where you are, Draco!" Charlie ordered him in a dangerously calm voice, his eyes on Lucius' face, his hand on his wand.
Draco froze, his face snapped round from his father to his lover and then back again.
Somehow Lucius Malfoy discovered a level of fury beyond that in which he had arrived, he pointed his wand at Charlie and screamed, "Filthy, molesting, corruptor of youth! I'm taking my son where he'll be safe!"
"Draco! The trunk! Close it!" Charlie barked, his wand raised, ready.
"Draco! Get dressed!" Lucius countered.
Somehow, trembling, he managed to do both, pulling on his robe while he scuttled to the trunk under the window.
Lucius and Charlie maintained eye contact, their wands trained on each other.
"I iwill/i kill you," Lucius hissed.
Charlie moved slowly sideways. "Hold onto the trunk," he told Draco.
"Don't do anything he tells you!" Lucius thundered. "You're coming home with me and I'm going to lock you in your room and take away your wand and you will learn …" he was ranting when Charlie reached the window, grabbed Draco's shoulder and Apparated.
Draco couldn't be sure if they had finished the Apparition. It was so dark. But cold and a rank smell seeped into him and he realised that his knees were on a solid floor. He let go of the trunk.