"Draco!" Harry called desperately, sprinting faster and cursing the wind for swallowing his plea before it could reach Malfoy's ears.
Fuck! Fuck, how had this happened? How had every intention of Harry's over the past few days inevitably turned into such horrendous fuck-ups? How had he allowed Oliver to kiss him and why in the name of Merlin did Draco have to see it? He hadn't kissed Wood back, but he hadn't shoved him away immediately either. It had almost been like he hadn't believed what was happening for a few moments—Oliver had kissed him and he had gone into shock.
But he hadn't lied to Draco about his feelings; he loved the blond and he had no interest in Oliver Wood. All he wanted was Draco and Harry was terrified that Malfoy would not allow Harry the chance to tell him that.
The weathered path leading back to the school began sloping gently and soon had Harry gasping for breath, his lungs burning as he continued to race after Malfoy, refusing to allow himself to slow. Draco dashed into the castle ahead of him and Harry put on an extra burst of speed before wrenching open the door, but by the time he entered the building, Malfoy was nowhere in sight.
Panting, Harry slowed and looked around. Fuck. He could be almost anywhere in the castle by now. Draco knew all of Harry's shortcuts just as well as the brunet did by this point. Taking a deep breath, Harry began jogging up to the dorm to fetch the Map. Fuck, he was tired of running already. Between no longer actively playing Quidditch or chasing down the forces of evil, he had allowed himself to get out of shape and instantly vowed to work out more.
By the time he got up to his dorm, he was exhausted and extremely winded and had to lean against the door for several minutes before he was able to turn the knob and enter. Ron and Hermione were sitting together on Ron's bed, smiling and talking quietly. They both jumped at Harry's entrance before sitting up and peering at him closely.
"Harry?" Hermione asked with concern. "What's happened?"
He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak without breaking down. It was all just so fucked.
"Harry, mate, what's wrong?" It was Ron's turn to ask and it was the genuine worry and care in his voice that made Harry open his mouth and spill his confession. He told them everything, almost every detail of the past few days, and by the time he reached the part about Malfoy having seen the kiss and run away, angry tears were rolling down his cheeks and he was scrubbing roughly at his face with his hands. He felt laughter bubble up his throat hysterically and nearly spill out at the memory of sitting in Potions not too long ago attempting to once again recall the feeling of anger.
Well, he was angry, all right. He was angry at Oliver for having made a move on him and he was angry at Draco for having foreseen that and been correct, but mostly he was angry at himself for having allowed things to progress to that.
Ron and Hermione listened quietly, speaking only during the sometimes long pauses that Harry would take. When he had finally thrown himself down on his bed and finished speaking, Hermione came to sit beside him on his mattress. "Harry," she began as she smoothed the hair away from his face and stroked his head. "It's okay. It's going to be okay. Draco will understand."
Harry shook his head and felt his glasses dig sharply into his face where they were pressed between his nose and the mattress. He ripped them off and flung them over his shoulder before burying his face back in the sheets. "No," his voice was muffled and squashed sounding. "No, Hermione, he won't. I told him that he had nothing to worry about from Oliver Wood and that he could trust me and then he sees us kissing and that is not something that he is going to just forgive." Had he lost the blond forever? Did witnessing Harry shatter Draco's trust forever alter the Gryffindor in the eyes of the only person he had ever truly been in love with?
Harry felt a hot stabbing in his gut as he remembered the words Draco had confessed so trustingly to him only yesterday: "Sometimes I have trouble believing that this isn't just all one big colossal joke and you'll inform me one day that you never meant any of it and leave me broken and pining". Broken and pining. Had Harry broken Draco? He had known that he had the power to hurt Draco more than the youth had ever been hurt, and he knew by the own way he was feeling that it was worse than any curse that any maniacal tyrant could hurl at him. Draco had survived everything only to be shattered by Harry; where Voldemort had failed to destroy him, Harry had succeeded.
He sat up slowly and took a few seconds to wipe his face dry before turning to Hermione. "What do I do?" he asked her.
"Talk to him," she responded simply.
"But what do I say?" How did he fix this? What words existed that would right everything that had become so horribly skewed? How did he get his boyfriend and his happiness back?
"Just tell him the truth, Harry."
"He's not going to listen!" Harry argued.
"Then make him," she said calmly.
Harry snorted. Make him. Right. When had Draco Malfoy ever done anything he hadn't wanted to? Other than when his family was being threatened by a snake-faced psycho, of course. But would the truth work? Would Draco still be able to read Harry's every intention and emotion on his face, as he had become so frighteningly good at? And more importantly, did Harry even deserve the chance to explain things? Did he no longer deserve Draco? Harry had once told the blond that he was his good karma; was that still true? Had the universe looked at Harry and found him wanting and decided that tearing Draco from him would balance some cosmic scale somewhere? Had Harry been deceiving himself by thinking that he would ever be able to achieve some small modicum of happiness?
Well, fuck the universe, then. And fuck anything or anybody else that dare interfere with Harry's life like that. Draco was his and the cosmos could not give him to the Gryffindor only to rip him away—Harry would not allow it.
Turning to face Hermione, he nodded in her direction with a new determination. Ron crossed the room to tap him on the shoulder and hand him the Map and his glasses, which Harry accepted with another nod before he immediately began scanning the worn parchment. Draco Malfoy's dot was in his dorm along with the dots of Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Fuck. Well, if Harry had to battle past the entire House to get to Draco, he would.
Squaring his shoulders, he thanked Ron and Hermione before marching resolutely to the dungeons, all earlier exhaustion forgotten.
When he got to the Common Room entrance, however, he paused. Not having been inside the Slytherin Common Room in years, he no longer knew the password. Zabini had invited him more than once, but Harry knew that too many of the younger Slytherins felt uncomfortable in his presence, and if he was being honest with himself, the last time he had been inside he had felt almost claustrophobic staring out at the green windows that opened wide to show deep within the lake. He remembered the Grindylows pulling horrible faces against the glass and how the entire room had seemed cold and dark.
It was possible he might have been slightly biased at the time, however, he thought wryly.
And now here he was years later, standing outside desperate to gain entrance, and he began to do the only thing he could think of—which was to bang on the stone loudly, swearing and kicking at it until a second-year finally opened it wide enough to stick her head out.
"Yes?" she asked cautiously, her eyes flicking up to Harry's scar.
"Can you please tell Draco Malfoy that I would like to speak with him?" he requested politely, in complete contrast to his earlier shouting. She nodded with clear hesitation before ducking back inside. Harry drummed his fingers against the wall impatiently. Please come out. Please talk to me. Please tell me that you still love me and you're willing to give me another chance.
The stone entrance slid open and Harry's heart leapt with hope before crashing painfully back into his chest at the sight of Blaise Zabini. "Potter," he greeted coolly, looking down his nose at Harry with a contempt that he had never before seen on the dark-skinned Slytherin's handsome features, and suddenly he felt very nervous.
"Erm, hi," he ran a hand through his hair at Zabini's stony stare, feeling awkward. "Is Draco in there?" Harry knew exactly where Draco was—the Map was still in his pocket and he had been glancing at it in frustration whilst waiting for Malfoy to appear. Which he guessed he would continue to wait for.
"He is," Zabini answered flatly. "But he doesn't want to see you or speak to you. He has also forbidden Pansy and me from mentioning your name or the words Gryffindor, Quidditch, or wood, which Pans and I still don't understand. What the fuck did you do to him, Potter?" The tall Slytherin stepped forward until he was in the corridor with Harry and the stone wall slid shut behind him. Harry avoided his eye as he tugged harshly at his hair.
"Look, I just need to speak to him, all right? Just for a minute, please," he begged. How was he supposed to apologize and grovel if Draco wouldn't even face him? Zabini gazed at him without blinking for several long minutes.
"It's not my decision," he said finally. "Draco told me to get rid of you so I'm afraid you have to go, Golden Boy."
Harry shook his head. This was already going so horribly different from how it was supposed to, and Harry hadn't even said a single word to Draco yet.
"Look," Blaise sighed, "I'm not sure what happened, but maybe just give him some time, all right?"
That got Harry's attention. "What exactly did he tell you?"
"Not much," Zabini admitted. "We were at the match for kick-off but left after Pansy got in a fight with some boy. Draco ditched us after a while saying he had to find you to ask you some question about some Defense assignment that doesn't actually exist. Next thing we know, he's slamming the entrance door and shouting at the first-years and it looked as if he had been crying." From the way Blaise pronounced the word, it was clear that that was something he had never seen Draco do before. "He's pretty angry, Potter, I really don't think you want to speak to him right now. Just wait, yeah?"
Harry sighed miserably. "I'm not sure it'll matter much, really. He hates me."
Blaise slowly shook his head. "No, Potter, he really doesn't." His tone was thoughtful and serious. "I've been noticing you two for a while now. How long have the two of you been together?"
Harry stared at him. Had Draco really not told his friends anything? How much did the Slytherin in front of him know? Could he be trusted to keep silent? Even though Harry didn't want him to? He wanted to be with Draco and he wanted everybody to know it; he was tired of having to keep his feelings a secret. "Not too long after term started," he admitted.
Blaise nodded. "So you'll have been together long enough to realize how distant he can be at times. He still hasn't told me or Pansy anything." His tone turned frustrated as he added, "Even though he fucking could if he would just trust us."
Harry's stomach clenched at the words. No, Draco didn't trust them—he didn't trust anyone and never would again, Harry knew. Harry had been the only person that Draco had trusted and he had betrayed that.
"Blaise, please," Harry's voice became desperate. "Please, let me inside! I need to find him, I need to explain, it's not what he thinks!"
Blaise only shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said, sounded regretful. "But he really would kill me. Did I mention he's not in the best mood at the moment?"
Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat and he nodded. "Well, will you give him a message for me, then?" Blaise considered for a moment before tipping his head in agreement. "Tell him that I'm sorry and it wasn't what it looked like and that I can explain if he'll let me and," Harry paused as he flushed bright red, "tell him that I love him." Zabini raised one eyebrow at that but said nothing.
The sound of the stone entrance sliding open drew Harry's attention. Pansy Parkinson stood in the doorway and was currently glaring at Harry as if she wished for nothing more than another Voldemort to rise up just so she could offer Harry up to him again.
"Come inside, Blaise," she ordered in a sharp voice. Zabini smiled sadly at Harry before turning away to follow Pansy back inside.
Fuck. Draco didn't want to see him, fine. Harry would find some way around that in order to speak to the blond. He headed back to the Tower and hoped fervently that his message was being delivered to Draco. Hopefully, Draco would agree to listen to Harry and allow him to somehow fix this. He had to fix this.
Malfoy didn't leave his dorm all of Sunday.
Harry spent most of the day staring at the Map, watching the tiny dot in the tiny dorm room. Sometimes it was pacing, sometimes still, sometimes alone, and sometimes in the company of his fellow Slytherin eighth-years. The more Harry watched the dot, the more frantic he became. He couldn't talk to Malfoy and he couldn't explain things and he wasn't sure if Draco was okay or if he was eating or anything. Malfoy had terrified the rest of his House into ignoring Harry completely and no matter how much Harry pounded and swore at the stone entrance, nobody opened it to admit him, leaving Harry cursing the fact that Draco had been sorted Slytherin and not a House a bit more forgiving, like Hufflepuff.
Why did he have to fall for a Slytherin? The Slytherin? One who could terrify such a large number of students into going to such lengths to bar Harry entrance? Part of it might have been their own personal dislike of Harry, he relented. Either way, they were hindering every attempt he made and he was eventually forced to give up for the time.
To his growing concern, he didn't see Draco at breakfast the next day, but the three Slytherins rushed into the Charms room right as class was starting, all three of them immediately heading for their usual seats in the back. Harry spent the entire class period studying Malfoy closely, trying and failing to catch his eye.
Malfoy looked exhausted; his eyes were puffy and tired, swollen-looking and ringed by dark circles. There were lines around his mouth and even his hair somehow seemed dull, as though it was Malfoy's mood that affected its luster. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on either his notes or the professor, completely ignoring absolutely everyone, even Parkinson as she whispered into his ear.
As he watched, Harry felt a twinge of annoyance at her proximity to the blond. Why did she feel the need to lean in so close? Her lips were practically touching his ear and Harry was beginning to glare. Zabini glanced over at him for a moment before nudging Parkinson, who looked at Harry, gulped, and quickly sat back.
That's when it happened.
Draco's eyes seemed to flick automatically; he had felt Parkinson lean suddenly away and followed her line of vision to Harry's. The grey eyes met his own for a moment—half a second, really—but in that instant, Harry felt something. A sort of charging pull buzzed through him as their gazes locked, leaving him with the urge to run to the blond in order to throw himself at his feet and beg forgiveness—anything, anything to chase the haunted look out of Draco's eyes.
The stare was broken an instant later and Harry was left feeling hollow.
The moment class was dismissed Malfoy fled, followed swiftly by his green-and-silver shadows. Harry wanted to kick the wall in frustration as lunch passed and the blond continued to evade him, and Potions was no better. Draco sat between his friends and concentrated on nothing but his cauldron. He was out the door and gone before Harry had even finished packing up and he knew it would be useless to attempt to follow him to the common room.
The following days of the week passed in exactly the same fashion. Harry would approach, Draco would disappear. He was impossible to get close to, especially now that he was back in the constant company of Zabini and Parkinson.
It did not take long before Harry was desperate enough to break the promise he had made to himself after Hedwig's death to never again use another owl and soon began borrowing different school birds to send Draco a letter at least once a day asking for the chance to talk and begging forgiveness. Not a single message was returned.
At Harry's insistent pleas, Ron and Hermione had both attempted to approach Malfoy as well but were met with similar results. The blond no longer wished to speak to any of them, and with his company went the company of the other two Slytherins. Harry was surprised to find himself missing the other two, even Parkinson's odd sort of half-presence.
One week turned into two, the passing days now shrouded in the same familiar colorless veil that Harry had grown so used to at the beginning of term. Then, the day before most of the school—with the exception of Harry and several others—were preparing to leave for Christmas break, Harry received a letter at breakfast. His morning post had slowed considerably now that his mail was being screened, the bulk being dealt with somewhere in the Ministry. His heart skipped as he wondered if it was finally a response from Draco.
Those hopes were dashed, however, as he opened it and did not recognize the handwriting.
Harry,
I'm sorry for how things ended between us the last we saw each other. I tried to give you your space but I think we should talk. I'm off for the season so I can Apparate up whenever you're free. Please.
Oliver
He stared at the parchment for several long minutes before Hermione slipped it from his loose grasp and scanned it quickly. "Oh, Harry, tell me you're not going to meet with him," she sounded worried. Harry turned his stare to her. "Eventually Draco will calm down," she continued, "and you'll be able to explain."
He shook his head sadly at her words. "I dunno anymore, Hermione. I really don't think he'll ever speak to me again."
Hermione tsked. "Harry, by tomorrow afternoon the two of you will practically have the entire castle to yourselves. He won't be able to continue avoiding you without everybody else around."
Harry looked at her in surprise. "He's staying for the holidays?" They had never discussed the holidays, both skirting the topic deliberately. Harry had been invited to the Burrow, of course, but had politely declined. It was their first year without Fred and that on top of his breakup with Ginny had convinced him to remain at the school. He had had no idea of Draco's plans, though they made sense. Of course he was staying. Harry had thought he might want to go to France to spend it with his mother, but it made sense for him to stay. Or maybe the universe had decided it was back on Harry's side and was keeping the blond there in regards to Harry's good karma.
"And Parkinson and Zabini?" he asked hopefully.
"Last Blaise had mentioned, he was spending it with his mother and Pansy was going to Switzerland with her parents," Hermione answered with a smile. "He'll be here alone."
Alone.
No Slytherin guard, no frightened students terrified into bending to his will. Just Draco and Harry. And McGonagall and Trelawney and possibly one or two others, but he didn't care about any of them. Malfoy wouldn't be able to avoid him and Harry would corner him somehow and force him to listen and if he had to use a full body-bind on him then that is what he was prepared to do. He fully intended to spend Christmas with Malfoy and give him the gift he had purchased the week after they had started seeing one another. The item had been on display in the window of a tiny shop in Hogsmeade and the rest purchased through a Muggle catalog that Hermione had found. It was currently in Harry's trunk and had been there, wrapped for weeks, purchased early out of a fear of leaving his gift to the last minute and being left with hardly anything to choose from. And now he was determined to see it delivered.
But first, he needed to write Oliver back.
The next two days were spent waiting for Oliver to Apparate up from wherever he now resided in London. For someone who had promised he could Apparate up whenever you're free, Wood sure kept Harry waiting. Malfoy had retreated into Slytherin territory completely, remaining hidden away in either his dorm or the empty common room. Harry was content to allow him to stay there for now; he wanted the confrontation with the blond to wait until after he had spoken to Oliver.
Wood finally arrived on the frozen steps of Hogwarts the crisp morning before Christmas Eve, clutching his broomstick and looking windswept. Harry met him in the Entrance Hall and they headed down the stairs to walk the winter grounds together, sun dazzling and bright against the miles of white snow.
Harry walked with his hands twisted together in the pocket of his Muggle hoodie, unsure of how to word what he needed to say. "So I got your letter…" he began uncertainly. He wanted this over with now so he could find Draco and tell him with absolute honesty that Oliver no longer held any doubts about where Harry's interests lie.
"And I got yours," Oliver interrupted. "And I was really glad that you asked me here."
Shaking his head, Harry reached out to pull Oliver to a stop. He needed to put an end to this now. "Look, Oliver, this isn't…" He took a deep breath. "I'm really sorry, but I'm not interested in you." There. He said it. He had told Wood at last and now he could find Malfoy and tell him that he had told him. Oliver Wood meant nothing to Harry and everybody needed to remember who it was that Harry had professed his love to in his dorm room. The past two weeks had been absolute hell—he missed the blond so much he could practically taste it, dusty and bitter on the back of his tongue. It was like when Draco had disappeared he had taken one of Harry's lungs with him, leaving Harry barely able to breathe and with a constant ache in his side.
But standing in front of Oliver and telling him as clearly and directly as he was able to that there was no chance of anything happening between them made him feel slightly better about his mistakes—it felt like he was finally working at correcting them. The feeling trailed off into guilt at the look on Oliver's face.
"Well, I mean, I know that you ran away after I kissed you, but I guess I was hoping that it was just nerves or something. You feel nothing for me?" His hazel eyes were wide and earnest and Harry felt even guiltier as he shook his head and shrugged apologetically.
"Sorry, Oliver, no. You can have the broomstick back, all right?"
But Oliver just shook his head and sighed, looking defeated for a moment before he crossed his arms and pinned Harry with a stony stare. "It's not because of Malfoy, is it?" Harry choked. How had he known? "I do have eyes, you know, Harry," he continued, voice slowly hardening. "I saw the way he was looking at you on the pitch and I saw him watching us kiss after the match."
Harry gaped at him. "You saw him? You saw him watching and suspected we might be together and decided to kiss me?"
Oliver's shoulders jerked up in a defensive shrug. "I didn't think you two were together, more like he was obsessed with you and embarrassing himself by following you around. I mean, honestly Harry, the two of you together? It's laughable! Have you forgotten who he is? You can't trust him! He's a Death Eater!" The final two words were punctuated with sharp jabs of one index finger as if to underline the importance of the man's statement.
"He made a mistake!" Harry snarled. "He's not a bad person!"
"Harry, what did he do to you?" Wood's anger drained and he suddenly looked concerned. "Don't you remember? It's Malfoy. Son of Lucius, You-Know-Who's best fucking mate? You hate him; everyone's always known how much you two hate each other! Harry, he fucking tried to kill Dumbledore! He nearly killed Katie and Ron, for Merlin's sake!" His fist tightened and he took a step forward. "Our friends! He nearly killed your best friend! Before he helped kill Dumbledore and set his Death Eater friends loose in the castle!"
The world swam red before Harry's eyes; he could feel himself trembling with rage and, gritting his jaw, he stood silent and furious, waiting until he was finally able to speak in a steady voice. "He made mistakes. Voldemort was threatening his family and he was scared, who the fuck wouldn't be? In spite of all that, he and his mother still saved my life and did more to end this war than most others, including yourself, Oliver. It was because of him and the part he played in everything that I was able to defeat Voldemort. So stop talking about things you know nothing about because nothing you say is going to make the slightest bit of difference. I love him and I really don't give a shit what you have to say about it. Let me know if you change your mind about the broomstick." Without waiting for a reply, he spun around and stomped back up to the school. It certainly could have gone better, but it was over now. Oliver Wood could again be forgotten and Harry could return his focus entirely to Draco once more.
Pulling the Map from his pocket and tapping it with his wand, his eyes began automatically to search the dungeons. There was Draco Malfoy's dot, all alone and ensconced yet again in the Slytherin Common Room.
That's fine, Harry thought as he tucked the Map away and pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his bag. I can wait.
The waiting took several hours.
For several boring hours, Harry sat across the hall from the stone entrance like a statue. A grumbling, complaining statue. Twisting the kinks from his back yet again, he groaned and rubbed his spine. Fuck, was Draco ever going to leave?
Just as Harry was beginning to lose all feeling in his lower body, he heard the stone of the entrance slide open and shot to his feet, swaying dizzily as the blood suddenly rushed through him with an alarming effect on his vision.
Poking his head out, Malfoy glanced cautiously up and down the corridor before stepping out into the hallway with quiet footsteps and striding quickly away. Harry stared after him for half a second before dashing inside the passageway just as the stone door slid shut.
Straightening up, he strolled through the passage and looked around in interest, comparing it to the room he remembered from his second year. Everything was dark stone and green-and-silver silk. The water rippling past the glass of the windows glowed with a strange turquoise gleam and Harry noticed several things swim past that he did not know the names of. All of the furniture in the room was black. At waist-level were ebony tables lit by pools of muted green light cast by emerald-shaded lamps. There were large tapestries of green serpents hanging from the walls above the main fireplace.
Striding to a black leather sofa, Harry sank down onto it with a grateful sigh, glad to no longer be sitting on a stone floor. Draco had probably just gone to the kitchens and would be back soon enough, where he would enter and unknowingly lock himself in with Harry and then they would talk—Harry was determined. They would talk.
After only a quarter of an hour had passed, Harry heard the entrance sliding open and Draco's footsteps ringing along the stone passageway. Hastily throwing the cloak back over himself, Harry stood and crossed the room silently to stand by the doorway. Seconds later Malfoy entered with a small plate of desserts balanced on the fingertips of one hand, heading automatically to the armchair closest to the fire, where a book lay on the low table nearby.
Harry whispered several locking spells at the exit before taking a deep breath and removing his hood. "Draco," he began softly but was interrupted by the sharp sound of glass breaking. Malfoy had dropped the plate he had been holding and was staring at Harry with wide eyes before his gaze suddenly narrowed dangerously as he clenched both fists.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?" He glared hard at Harry. "This common room is for Slytherins—which you decidedly are not. I know it's much nicer than that garish tower you call a common room, but the tour ends now. You found your way in, you can find your way out, so kindly fuck off."
As Draco spoke Harry removed the cloak completely and tossed it aside. "No," he interrupted firmly. "Not until we talk and you let me explain and you actually listen." Draco's eyes flashed and his hand twitched like he was fighting the urge to whip out his wand. "Draco, please," Harry said softly, both hands raised palm out to show Malfoy that he meant him no harm. "I just want to explain."
"Well, that's too bad, Potter, because I don't want to hear any fucking explanations from you." Malfoy crossed his arms and Harry had to remind himself that looks could not literally kill and that Draco's glare was not actually going to injure him.
"Draco," Harry spoke louder. He could be much more stubborn than the Slytherin; he would get everything he came to say out if it killed him. "I did NOT kiss Oliver Wood!"
Draco's teeth snapped and his face turned an angry pink. "I fucking saw you, Potter! So spare me your lies and your false explanations and, as I requested earlier, fuck off already!"
Harry shook his head. "You're still not listening to me and I'm afraid I can't leave until you hear what I need to say." Taking a deep breath, he hurried to speak before Malfoy could tell him to fuck off again. "Oliver kissed me, Draco, I swear it! I did NOT kiss him back and I am NOT interested in him! You're the ONLY person that I want to be with and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like that, but I won't ever make you feel you can't trust me again, all right, not ever again!" As he spoke he started drifting forward unconsciously and found once his words stopped that he was much closer to Malfoy than he had originally been.
An icy, glaring Malfoy still looking murderously angry. "I told you," his words whipped out low and harsh. "I told you that he had feelings for you and I told you that he would make a move and you didn't fucking listen! You dismissed everything I said as foolish insecurity spurred by jealousy. Even after I asked you to stay away from him!"
"But then you gave me your permission!" Harry cried. "You told me to go, you practically insisted!" And maybe Harry should have ignored that concession, but he hadn't thought it would lead to any of this.
"And then," Malfoy continued as if he hadn't heard him, "then you accept that fucking broomstick RIGHT in front of my face! Was that payback, Harry? For the Nimbus's all those years ago?" His voice turned cold and mocking. "Did the two Gryffindors laugh about finally paying me back for when I 'bought my way onto the team'? I'm sure many people find it quite amusing that I can no longer afford a broomstick—divine retribution, yes?"
Harry shook his head quickly. "No, Draco! Christ, I didn't even want to accept the stupid thing! I had told Oliver no, and then you showed up and you were both just insisting and so I took it even though no, I really shouldn't have, but he had already had my name engraved on it and then you were fucking telling me to take it and I could see that you were upset, but honestly, what else was I supposed to do?" He realized belatedly as his voice echoed around the large, dreary room that he was shouting.
"I don't like being forced into anything," Harry said, lowering his voice. "I felt trapped into accepting a gift I didn't want and I was angry and so I'm sorry that I left like that and I'm sorry that I took the broomstick and I'm sorry for all of it because I never meant to hurt you and I never wanted any of this to happen." He dropped his gaze to the floor and scuffed his shoe nervously. "I love you, Draco."
Malfoy was silent and Harry finally peeked up to find him breathing heavily, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose and eyes closed, attempting to regain control over whatever emotion had him in its grip.
When he spoke, however, his voice was steady and calm. "Be that as it may, Potter, it explains neither what you were doing alone with Wood nor why you failed to shove him away if what you profess about having no interest in him is to be believed."
"He cornered me after the match. I thought he was just saying goodbye and then heading back to London since the season is over, but he kissed me and I panicked and froze and I should have pushed him away, I really should have, but he had me pinned before I finally got free and ran away and I'm sorry, Draco, I'm so fucking sorry and I know you're angry and I know I should have listened to you and I know I don't deserve another chance, but I love you and I miss you and if you'll let me I'll start making it up to you right now." The words tumbled from Harry's mouth in a single breath and he felt dizzy once he stopped speaking.
"I spoke to him today," Harry admitted once he caught his breath, but hastened to continue as he saw the shutters in Malfoy's eyes immediately slam back into place. "I told him that I wasn't interested in him and never had been. I also…" He blushed but looked Draco directly in his grey—so very, very grey—eyes and said, "I told him that I love you."
The blond's countenance softened, just for a moment, but it was enough time for Harry to step even closer until they were almost touching. It had been what felt like centuries since he'd last touched Draco and just being this near the man had his heart hammering fiercely and the whooshing sound of blood rushing through his ears.
"I love you, Draco," he repeated softly, reaching out to lightly brush his fingertips against the skin of Malfoy's trembling hand. "I love you and I want to be with you." Draco was silent and Harry took that as encouragement, becoming bolder, twining their fingers together and caressing Malfoy's palm with his thumb. "You're the only one that I want."
Had the other boy's lips always been so pink and perfect? They were parted slightly and Harry could hear the quick puffs of breath Draco was taking. Harry raised the hand not wrapped around Draco's palm to tenderly sweep the blond fringe from the other boy's forehead before gently tangling his hand in the silky locks.
A sort of half-sob wrenched itself from Malfoy's throat and he squeezed his eyes shut. "These past two weeks," he breathed, shaking his head as though attempting to rid himself of painful memories, "have been absolute hell."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I plan to make that up to you, though." And with those words, he said a quick prayer before gingerly pressing his lips to Draco's. He had barely allowed himself to hope that Draco would kiss him back, but he had been mostly sure that he was going to be immediately hexed.
Instead, a wild gasp tore from Draco's throat and arms shot up to wrap around Harry's waist. They were suddenly pressed tightly together and Harry's lips were parted and Draco's tongue was in his mouth and his hands had moved to cup the blond head delicately in place. Malfoy shifted and moaned, deepening the kiss and clinging to Harry with a frightening desperation.
They kissed for minutes, hours, days, maybe, Harry wasn't sure, but all too soon Draco was pulling back and exhaling shakily. "I missed you." He was breathless and sounded cautious, as though he wouldn't allow himself to believe just yet that Harry was really there—something Harry intended to thoroughly convince him of.
"God, Draco, I missed you so much," Harry admitted, pressing kisses along the skin of his jaw. "So fucking much. Every day. Every minute. Even when I sleep, I dream about nothing but you."
A light shiver raked Draco's frame and his fingers tightened on Harry before he was suddenly returning Harry's kisses with a fervor that had Harry gasping and melting against the man's chest and even though the kisses left him dizzy from the lack of oxygen, he felt as if he could actually breathe for the first time in weeks. His lung had been returned to him and he felt healed in a way that he had never imagined feeling after being parted with someone. Draco drew in a deep breath with ease as if reading Harry's thoughts and echoing his sentiments.
"You know, you really don't make it easy to track you down," Harry panted.
Draco shrugged as he squirmed against him. "Yeah, sorry—you know, for not listening to you or anything." Harry was sure he had never heard the blond more uncomfortable than when he was apologizing. "And for pressuring you to take the stupid broomstick. And for avoiding you and threatening my Housemates if they even so much as thought about helping you gain entrance. And for—" His words were cut off as Harry interrupted with a kiss. Hearing the blond apologize was just too strange, even if he had only actually used the word sorry once.
"It's fine, Draco, it's all right," he muttered against Malfoy's lips, but then hesitated and pulled back to look him in the eye. "We're all right, aren't we?"
Malfoy smiled. Really more like only the very corners of his mouth turned up, but Harry knew it was a smile and knew it was for him alone. "I think we will be, yes," he sighed as he laid his head down on Harry's shoulder and leaned against him. Harry stroked his back tenderly, trying to convey through touch how precious he thought the boy in his arms and how much he meant to Harry.
Their breathing synchronized and slowed. Harry wasn't sure how long they stood like that, wrapped around one another, silently conveying their emotions through physical contact alone.
Finally, Malfoy lifted his head. "We missed dinner," he sighed and Harry shrugged.
"Wasn't hungry anyway."
Draco fixed him with a stern look reminiscent of McGonagall's "headmistress" face. "Potter, you've hardly eaten anything at all these past few weeks. You're going to eat dinner."
"How do you know how much I've been eating?" Harry asked curiously. He had never—with the exception of the first day of class after the incident—seen Malfoy so much as glance in his direction. Ron and Hermione had confirmed that they, too, had not witnessed the blond look towards him. Had he really been secretly watching? Had he been secretly concerned for Harry's well-being?
Harry felt warmth trickling through his stomach, spreading outwards through his limbs, leaving his fingertips tingling. "Nevermind," he grinned. "Let's go get dinner." He stepped back and offered Draco his palm, holding his breath and not exhaling until Draco's fingers slid into his.
A dizzying moment of terror had struck him—what if Draco refused his hand? What if this was his revenge on Harry after all these years? After all, it had been Harry who had declined his hand and rejected his offer of friendship first. Was this going to be his payback?
But the next second Malfoy's palm was warm against his own and those fears had vanished just as quickly as they arrived. They strolled to the kitchen leisurely, holding hands and trading smiles. Draco laughed and Harry's breath caught and he wondered how he had survived these past torturous weeks without the blond. Weeks of not seeing his eyes flash with rage or lust, not hearing his dry wit and biting sarcasm, or feeling his long fingers gliding over his skin. They had lost so much time and had too much making up to do, something that Harry decided to begin immediately, surprising Malfoy by turning him by the shoulders and pressing him firmly against the wall before whispering his name and kissing him breathless. Draco whimpered and responded and the trip to the kitchen took quite a while.
The return trip was much quicker, however, due to the large trays of food they were both levitating. The house-elves had piled dish after dish into their hands until Harry and Draco could no longer carry them all and instead had to wait as large silver trays were fetched and loaded up with steaming platefuls of food. The tray Draco was floating was piled high with chocolates and desserts and he had claimed it immediately as his to take.
By the time they got back to the Slytherin Common Room, lowered the trays and removed the lids to begin eating, Harry was feeling ravenous and tore into the meal with an enthusiasm that would have made Ron proud. Draco ate more slowly, more politely, but swallowed just as much food as Harry.
Finally, most of it was gone and they found themselves lying tangled together on the most comfortable couch, lazily feeding each other desserts and occasionally exchanging chocolate-flavored kisses. Harry rested his weight on one elbow, leaning over Malfoy and stealing a kiss before lowering a thick strawberry into his mouth, watching in fascination at the way Draco bit it slowly, tongue running over his lips to capture any juices as he chewed with half-lidded eyes before swallowing smoothly. How had Harry never before noticed how erotic strawberries were? The tips of Draco's teeth were impossibly white against the deep red of the fruit and it made Harry's heart race. God, was there anything more beautiful or enticing than Draco Malfoy?
Using one finger, he tilted Draco's chin up to meet him in a kiss. He could taste the sweetness of the juice from the strawberry on his lips and the rich chocolate on his tongue. Without breaking the kiss, they shifted on the couch until Harry was lying fully atop him, one thigh tucked snugly between Draco's own. The kisses were languid and relaxed but soon began increasing in intensity as Harry felt the blood rushing lower through his body and felt an unmistakable bulge in response against his hip.
"Draco…" he murmured. They should probably stop. They should stop and wait. Wait until their relationship was once again secure and Harry had earned back Draco's trust.
Stopping was becoming increasingly more difficult, however, as Draco's hands slipped beneath Harry's t-shirt to rest warmly on the cool skin of his back. "Draco," he tried again, but his breath caught as Malfoy turned his hips into Harry's more fully and began rocking upward, which was just the most brilliant thing Harry could think to be doing and fuck that felt so good and amazing and Draco was amazing and with a start Harry pulled back to look the blond in the eye. "Draco, stop." For a moment Harry felt like everything was too bright and shook his head to clear it.
When his vision finally dimmed to normal, he glanced down at Draco, who was lying very still beneath him looking insecure and hurt. "Stop?" His voice was tiny and confused and Harry instantly berated himself for not foreseeing his stupid choice of words.
"No! I mean, I want to. God, you have no fucking idea how badly I want to, but...maybe we should wait."
"Ah," Draco's voice cleared and was now tinged with understanding. "You're doing the gentlemanly thing. The Gryffindor thing. You're suggesting we wait until I feel I once again trust you, yes?"
Harry shrugged and jerked his head once in a nod, not admitting that he also wanted to wait until he felt he could trust himself again as well—trust himself not to hurt Draco; wait until he trusted himself to be the type of person that Draco deserved.
The same Draco who was currently smiling up at him and who had retightened his hold. "Stupid Harry," he admonished fondly. "Remember how you're half-Slytherin? Stop being such a fucking Gryffindor all the time." The word rolled from Malfoy's tongue distastefully, but he stared up at Harry with a very serious expression. "I am quite capable of making my own decisions and have done so in regards to the situation. I love you and I want you and I want us to be together right now and…I'm asking you to make love to me, Harry." He bit his lip shyly, and Harry felt dizzy. Make love? To Draco? Now? All the blood seemed to have fled his brain to pool somewhere much lower and was that a ringing he heard?
Shaking his daze, he looked back to Draco and his lips parted and he found himself responding with the only word he seemed capable of saying after a request like that: "Okay."
Draco exhaled in relief and smiled before pulling Harry back down for a kiss and it was like fireworks set in slow-motion. It felt as if time slowed and everything became astoundingly clear; Harry was aware of every inch of Draco lying beneath his body, every slow slide of his tongue against his own, the delightful tickle of Malfoy's hands running over his back. The next second Harry's shirt had been tugged over his head and Malfoy's had been removed and discarded as well and their bare chests were touching and it felt like sparks were crackling along their skin everywhere they touched, lighting his nerves on fire, and he had never been more aroused in his life and he needed Draco right now but he paused a second as he pulled back to breathe.
"Don't you think we should move this to your room?" Harry panted and was pleased to find Draco just as breathless when he responded.
"Why? We have the entire dungeon to ourselves."
"Yes, but I think we should be in your bedroom. In a bed." He glanced around and grimaced. "I don't mind our first time being in the dungeons, but the Slytherin Common Room?" A shudder wracked his frame. "It's no better now than it was in second year."
"When were you in the common room in second year?" Malfoy asked with interest.
"Oh, er, nevermind," Harry said weakly. Draco's eyes narrowed and he looked about to speak, but Harry began pressing open-mouthed kisses across the skin of his throat and he groaned instead.
"Bedroom is too far," the blond breathed, tipping his head back in encouragement. Harry chuckled and sat up, pulling the protesting blond to his feet and allowing him to lead Harry down another stone passageway. At the very end was Malfoy's room, and the moment the door opened, Harry was staring around with interest—he had never been in Draco's bedroom before. It was nearly identical to his own, with the same basic shape and furniture placement. There were two beds—one supposedly Blaise's—that stood facing each other against opposite walls, the canopies a deep green and the bedding varying shades of silver. Heavy trunks lay at the foot of both beds and there were matching desks near each mattress, next to similar black wardrobes. It might have been Harry's room exactly if not for the different color schemes and the matter of the clutter. The Slytherins' dorm was impeccably clean. The beds were made and all books were stacked orderly atop the cleared desks, not a single article of clothing was strewn anywhere, and the wardrobes were both neatly shut. The trunks were closed tight and Harry was certain that whatever was still inside was folded and organized.
As he noticed Draco fidgeting off to the side he realized he'd been peering silently around for too long and turned to fix Malfoy with an even stare. "Lube?"
Draco relaxed with a chuckle and pulled an opaque glass bottle from a drawer in his nightstand, handing it to Harry, who felt suddenly nervous. He still didn't know what he was doing—he still might hurt Draco. The blond seemed to sense Harry's doubt because he stroked his cheek lightly before bending to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, hovering there for a moment before beginning to trail kisses further and further down Harry's chest, kissing the muscles of his stomach and around his belly button until Draco was on his knees and his mouth was hovering just above the waistband of Harry's jeans. Malfoy cupped him through the denim with a smile and Harry's breath caught.
Not wanting to wait for Draco to ask permission, Harry unfastened his trousers and shoved the rest of his clothing down to his calves. Malfoy's eyes widened but he helped Harry step out of the fabric and allowed himself to be tugged back up to his feet and his own remaining clothing to be removed. Harry kissed Malfoy and steered them toward the bed, feeling triumphant when the back of the blond's legs hit the mattress and they were suddenly horizontal. The glass bottle was still clutched in Harry's hand and he sat up to unstop it, thighs on either side of Draco's naked body, twisting and squirming and panting and deliciously hard for him.
The stopper was finally worked loose before Harry hesitated. He knew how this was done, Draco had described the process to him weeks ago, something which had left both boys extremely hard and resorting to enthusiastic handjobs. It was now time to test that knowledge, and he knew what to do, but he was still nervous. He wanted Draco's first time to be amazing, incredible, unforgettable. Something they would both always remember and in ninety years when they were still together they could look back on their first time with fondness.
Draco's fingers lightly brushed Harry's cheek and he looked down into grey eyes. The instant their gazes locked Harry knew Draco trusted him and loved him and Harry loved him back and he could do this and it would be perfect for them both. With gentle hands he began to tug the blond's legs until Draco obligingly bent his knees, planting his pale feet flat on the mattress. Harry suspected it might be easier if Draco was lying on his stomach, but he wanted to be able to look Draco in the eye during their first time.
The lube was cold on Harry's fingers and he allowed it to warm before reaching down to tease Draco for a few moments before his fingers began ghosting over his pale thighs and past the crisp golden curls of his pubic hair, drifting lower and further back to cautiously insert one finger into Draco. It was tighter than he expected and the extreme constriction alarmed Harry.
He frowned, suddenly feeling doubtful that this would work, certain that he would hurt Malfoy in his attempts. But Draco shifted and Harry began to slowly move his finger, working it deeper into his body until it was buried all the way inside and was sliding in and out with ease. At the blond's encouraging whimpers, he added another and was startled when the body beneath him suddenly gasped and arched his back as Harry's fingers brushed over something within him.
After that he began stroking it as much as he could whilst adding a third digit until Draco was writhing and moaning and pleading with Harry, who moaned a reply and nodded, removing his fingers and shuffling forward until he was finally, finally, pressing into Draco, who was gasping and twisting and clutching the sheets and Harry was afraid to move out of fear of hurting him, but Draco rocked his hips and groaned and Harry started to move and Draco felt so good, so goddamn fucking good, and Malfoy was chanting his name in time to the thrusts, his cries encouraging Harry to speed up and reach between them to stroke Draco's neglected erection.
With a cry and a shudder the blond threw his head back and arched his spine and watching him triggered Harry's own release and he shouted Draco's name hoarsely before collapsing forward to land heavily atop his chest. They lay still and panting for several minutes, catching their breath and waiting for their heartbeats to slow.
Malfoy's pale arms rose to wrap around Harry's back and he could feel the uncomfortable prickle of a cleaning charm being cast over the both of them before the blankets were tugged up and Harry's face was tucked into Malfoy's neck. Harry snuggled into the warmth feeling happy and sleepy and content and fell asleep smiling.
Grey eyes were watching him warmly when he woke the next morning. There was a small smile playing around the corners of Draco's mouth and his gaze was sleepy and unguarded where his head lay on the pillow right next to the brunet.
Deciding that he had never been more in love with Draco than in that moment, Harry leaned forward to capture that soft sleepy mouth in a kiss but was stopped by Malfoy's hand until he had cast breath freshening charms over them both. And Harry had to admit, it really was much nicer that way.
As they kissed their bodies quickly began to wake up, more instant and localized as the press of lips and wandering touches continued. Harry was worried that Malfoy might be sore after the previous night, but the blond insisted he was fine and reached down to grasp Harry with a firm hand, effectively shutting up any complaints the brunet might have had about waiting.
Summoning the lube, he reached down to stretch Draco without once breaking the kiss, fingering him open with patience until Draco was whining and pleading softly into his mouth. Rolling them both onto their sides, Harry curled himself around Draco's body, wrapping one arm around his waist and using the other hand to line himself up. He pressed a kiss to Draco's shoulder before he began rocking into him in small, gradual movements, taking his time, wanting it to last the entire morning. They made love slowly and amorously, bathed in the aquamarine glow cast by the gentle ripples of the tranquil lake undulating peacefully past the windows. Tiny specks of light reflected in the water danced across the surface of the stone-grey walls, glimmering in through the thick glass, and Harry even thought he saw a mermaid swim past, but he had no brain function left to focus on anything happening outside of the room.
Everything in his world was narrowed down to center entirely on Draco. Everything in his life was Draco and Draco was everything he felt and every word that fell from his lips was Draco. And everything about Draco was perfect. The way his golden hair, darkened and damp with sweat, fell so enticingly into his eyes, or the way he would bite his lip in an attempt at keeping himself quiet, or all the tiny gasps and sharp intakes of breath he would take. There had never been anyone more beautiful and Harry would never let him go, not for anything.
They lay together afterward in a tangled heap, warm and relaxed and content, Draco's head on Harry's shoulder and his body draped diagonally across his entire torso.
"I'm hungry, Harry," Malfoy hinted and Harry hummed in agreement. Food would be nice. "But I'm also exhausted and don't want to leave the bed yet."
Harry fought back a grin at the pout in Draco's voice. "So you want me to go fetch it for you?"
Draco lifted his head and flashed a dazzling smile. "It would be ever so kind of you if you did; you would be an absolute darling."
Harry laughed and nuzzled further into Draco's warm body. "But I'm also exhausted and don't want to leave the bed."
Draco hummed as his fingers began lightly tracing patterns across Harry's chest. "How about a trade then?" Harry's head lifted—he was listening. "How about you go and fetch me a big lovely breakfast from the kitchens, and afterward, I'll let you fuck me again?" Draco's voice was low and throaty and made Harry's breath catch.
His limbs, however, were heavy and lethargic and he decided that maybe a different trade would be in order. "How about," his voice was slightly husky and Draco's breathing quickened, "you go and fetch a big lovely breakfast for the both of us, and afterward I'll let you fuck me?"
Malfoy stared at Harry silently for several moments before springing from the mattress and leaping across the room to one of the black wardrobes, where he hastily threw on a black t-shirt and dark trousers. Stepping back to the bed, he kissed Harry quickly and murmured, "I like your trade best," against the brunet's lips before stepping away and closing the door softly.
With a smirk, Harry closed his eyes. He had nearly fallen back to sleep when a loud crack split the silence and made him jump. A large square table was now sitting in between the two beds, set for two and piled with dishes. Harry had just pulled on a borrowed pair of silk pajama pants and taken a seat at one of the place settings when Draco slipped back into the room and took the chair opposite him.
They ate fruit and buttery toast and thick, steaming sausages. There were eggs and perfectly crisped bacon and black coffee and Harry ate so much he thought he might be sick.
Once they were finally both full and the table had disappeared with another deafening crack, they snuggled back under Draco's blankets and slept for several hours in each other's arms, both smiling and content after the recent weeks of fury and anguish.
His body felt warm and pleasant, and Harry thought he felt something tickle across the skin of his abdomen, below which was a delicious pressure. Blinking awake, he squinted down his body to find Draco staring up at him from between the v of his legs, pale lips wrapped around Harry's erect cock, and he quickly decided that there was no better way of waking up than the feel of Malfoy's hot tongue sliding all over him. But he tugged Draco away before he could get too lost in the feeling, pulling him up for a kiss and fulfilling his end of the deal they had made before breakfast.
Being made love to by Draco for the first time was an experience that Harry could only describe as spiritual, almost otherworldly, in a way. It was something he felt down in his very soul—Draco's every movement was appreciative and sensual, every caress against Harry's flesh affectionate, undemanding, worshipful. There was a quiet reverence to the way Draco touched him, something that made Harry's head swim and breath catch. It felt as if every centimeter of his body was receiving all of Draco's undivided attention, pale fingers stroking him everywhere so gently, so softly, tender kisses pressed along every inch of flesh they could find, every single one a silent promise of love, leaving Harry with a warm burning in his eyes and deep within his chest.
It was the first time he had ever been touched in such a way in his life, ever been looked at with such absolute veneration. Warm affection was pouring from the silver eyes gazing down at him so openly, so sincerely. Never before had Harry dreamed that anything could feel so good, so right, but being with Draco made him feel complete in ways he had never imagined, filling empty slots within himself he had not even known he had been missing.
When Draco finally entered Harry they both groaned, and Harry felt his toes curl in pleasure as Malfoy began rocking, his every movement sending sizzling sparks shooting through Harry's blood and along every inch of skin, causing him to gasp and writhe and moan Draco's name repeatedly, the word falling from his lips with the same piety used by others to intone psalms or utter prayers. There was a burning, fiery feeling spreading through him, scorching waves of pleasure radiating throughout his entire body in increasing ripples of intensity, building and building until his vision turned white and his back arched off the bed as he came with a cry.
Only seconds later, Draco came as well, pale lips continuing to seek every inch of Harry's body they could find for the entirety of his release. Quiet endearments were whispered into the warm skin of Harry's throat where Draco's head rested against it, lips trailing along his neck just lightly enough to give him shivers.
A non-verbal cleaning charm was cast over the both of them by the blond, who took advantage of no longer being sticky with sweat and semen to fit himself snugly behind Harry's body, the brunet seeming to fit perfectly within his embrace. They fell asleep wrapped around one another, both feeling happy and content. Harry had never felt more at peace in his life and even as he drifted off into unconsciousness, the smile never faded from his face.