Hey guys! So I know its been a while, and I know you all hate me now, but I have a good reason. A)I was sent to hospital, B) I've been drowning in uni work, C)I've actually been starting a new story to upload once this one is finished, or D)All of the above. Take your pick :)
But now I'm back, and I will never make you wait that long again for an update. Almost finished now :)
ENJOY!
(I do not own Harry Potter,I am not makinga profit from this, these characters do not belong to me)
Chapter Thirty Four – Under the bed
Harry fell heavily from the fireplace, a snatch at his jumper an indication Draco had tried, and failed, to steady him. His imprecise reaction was understandable; as soon as they had stopped spinning, a shrill sound which, as the years went on, Harry would liken to the shrieking banshee's origin monster being tortured in the lowest depths of hell, went off.
He didn't care that he had hit his knee on one sturdy as hell coffee table as he fell, or that he was crouched on the floor covered in soot. That shrieking noise, that constant wail of everything wrong with the world, a thousand screams, people out there writhing in pain, not stopping…
Stopped.
He panted, wincing at the ringing in his ears. The horrible sound the egg riddle for the triwizard tournament summoned wasn't as ghastly as that. God, he had heard a mangled cat yowling that seemed more pleasant.
"Shit, get up. Get up." Harry groaned as he was pulled to his feet by his blonde, jerking his arm back as he was shoved towards a curtain, of all things.
"Great catch, by the way." He grumbled as he was shoved unceremoniously behind a curtain. He was being forced to, literally, hide behind a curtain. Like a kid. Hiding under a table would have more dignity.
"Don't blame me for your incredible lack of balance. Can't even exit a floo without making a scene."
"Well, I didn't exactly-"
"Expelli-!" Harry snapped his mouth shut at the new voice, desperately hoping the curtain wasn't moving. He stilled, staring at the perfectly manicured fingers that clenched around the edge of the fabric, tightening until the knuckles turned white. "Draco. Did you sound the alarm?"
"My apologies, mother. A lapse in judgement." Draco's hand tightened on the curtain, pulling it along the window. Harry would have sighed in relief at his quick thinking, if the sound wouldn't alert Narcissa Malfoy to his whereabouts.
There was silence in the room whilst Draco shut the other curtain, probably seeming nonchalant. Was it pureblood custom to do that, or did they usually order the house elves about? Or did they use their wands? Was the small action to hide Harry drawing attention to him? It couldn't be considered normal for Draco to return home, and immediately block out the windows; his mother was going believe the worst.
"Prove you're my son." Came the soft reply, cold. Harry could picture her with her wand sternly in her hand, pointing it unflinchingly at Draco. Which was downright scary. The practise of ensuring identities faded with the war; this was the year of peace. So why did Malfoy's keep up the practise?
"Give me a question." Came the sigh, annoyed. Harry swallowed at the palpable tension in the air. Surely Draco wouldn't want him present for some personal answers? He was stuck behind the curtain, though. And, though he would never admit it to Draco, the prospect of finding out more of Draco was tempting.
"Where did I take you as soon as the battle was over?"
"Here."
"Where?"
Another sigh. "The vault."
Harry blinked, frowning. Because that only sounded slightly suspicious. If a ministry official had been here, they would be jotting down every word. A vault, outside of Gringotts?
Another silence, wherein Harry's heartbeat was the loudest thing in the room. Was his breathing too loud? Did he just hit the curtain? Shit, was it moving?
"Sweetheart, I thought…" Her voice sounded tired now, immediately less threatening. "Why were you outside the grounds? You're walking a thin enough line as it is, without pushing the wrong buttons. If the aurors discover you went out-"
"Did the wards inform father I was missing?" He assumed she shook her head. "Then I doubt the aurors will discover my little walk, either."
"Where were you?"
"Out."
"Where, Draco?"
"Out." There was heavy silence again, and Harry's breathing. He didn't know who would win this battle of wills; Draco was up against his mother, a woman capable of lying to Voldemort. And Draco was Draco; enough competition there.
"You may think little of me-" Narcissa began, voice low.
"I think everything of you." Draco replied just as easily.
"Thank you. However, it cannot be entirely true, if you expect me to believe you made both pairs of sooty footprints."
Harry blinked, glancing down in a strange numbness. His feet were black and grey with dirt. Footprints lead right where he was standing. Fantastic.
What the hell was Draco to say up against that? Any possible explanation-
"I snuck a friend over." Or, they could go with absolute honesty. "That's why the alarm went off. He's behind the curtain, because I don't want him to meet…"
"Well, Narcissa, which fool decided to come this time? Oh, have they left?"
Harry shut his eyes, pleading for the room to just empty. He didn't particularly want to have a one on one with Lucius Malfoy, father-in-law or not. He was likely to curse him from the room, through the window, for even being one foot inside the mansion in the first place.
The previous tension was disregarded, compared to this scale.
"Father." Whilst his tone was polite to his mother, if a bit distant, it was pure indifference to his father. Crisp, and unfriendly. "If you will excuse me."
Harry wanted to rip the curtain open, Lucius Malfoy be damned, and scurry after Draco. It was a miracle he didn't. But the blonde's footsteps were precise, and quick, and before Harry had made the agonising decision, the two parents were talking.
Draco had left him to the mercy of his parents.
With his mother knowing he was in the room.
"He's going to bring every auror in London down on this house."
"He's trying to cope. Just leave him be."
"I can't have him putting us in danger."
Harry's eyebrows snapped up. What a fucking hypocrite!
"Draco has never, intentionally or not, harmed this family." The unsaid 'unlike you' hung in the air. "We'll discuss it in the morning." Another bout of silence. "Lucius. Leave him."
After another agonising minute, with Harry trying to breathe inconspicuously, and trying not to hit the curtain, and pretending his nose wasn't itching with a sneeze, and withholding moan when he realised his right foot was poking through the bottom of the curtain… they left.
Or, Harry had to assume they had. There was no way he was peeking around the corner to check.
They could be having a silent debate, for all he knew. A staring competition everyone knew parents had when neither could agree, wherein their eyebrows raised and their lips pursed. A battle of wills could be happening on the other side of the curtain. Narcissa could be silently pointing towards the curtain, pointing out what her husband had overlooked.
Didn't they see his outline? Harry had to assume his chest was hitting the curtain with each breath. It should have been quite apparent he was there; he hadn't heard a cleaning charm cast. The sooty footprints would be leading to his very spot.
So, what were they doing? Had they left, or were they sneaking up on the curtain, wands raised, ready to hex him into oblivion for having the nerve to sneak in here, and potentially put their son at risk-?
The curtain swung open, and Harry's heart dropped into his stomach. For an agonising moment, his mind was blank. Nothing he could possibly say would help in the least.
Then relief.
The grey eyes belonged to the only blonde he had interest in.
"Are you coming, or would you prefer to sleep here for the night?"
"You were the one to leave the room." Harry's voice was a touch more relieved than he wanted it to be. "What was I supposed to do? Follow you out?"
But Draco seemed unperturbed; he smirked, eyebrows rising. "Aren't you Gryffindors supposed to have a little courage?"
"I'm in Slytherin." Harry couldn't help his own grin, after Draco's flittered across his face. "Hadn't you heard?"
Harry followed Draco through the corridor, glancing at each door as if worried it was about to spring open. This hallway was quite long, without escape routes. There were no curtains to hide behind, if Lucius Malfoy decided to go for a wander. But Draco didn't seem particularly rushed, so Harry had to assume he was safe for the moment.
"So, what was with the tension in the other room?" Harry asked, a perfectly sound query, he thought. He didn't expect the indignant scoff as a response.
"None of your business."
"I'm a bit curious about this second vault."
"Be as curious as you like."
"Why'd you have to answer a question when you arrived?"
Draco gave him a flat stare, hardly amused. He clearly didn't deem it worthy of a response. Git.
Harry sighed, ensuring it was huffy and over exaggerated. Despite the fact it made him feel like an utter twat. And look like one, according to Draco's incredulous laugh.
"And why are you moping like a child?" He drawled, leading the way down a third corridor. And straight to a fourth. Christ, this place was huge. It felt as if they were threading their way through a maze.
"None of your business." Harry shrugged. Two could play this game. "Why? Curious?"
"Ecstatic." Damn him. "I'm barely able to contain my sheer exhilaration over the fact you're acting like a child."
"I manage to contain mine when you act like a prick." Harry dodged the hand that aimed a smack at his head. "So, what's up with your dad?"
Draco jolted to a stop, spinning around with his eyebrows raised. His mask wasn't in place, for once, but it hovered just under the surface. Harry didn't understand why he looked so bewildered, or wary. They weren't personal questions, not really.
"I have never, nor will I ever, refer to my father as 'dad'." Harry bit back the remark. He was on thin ice as it was. Despite the fact Malfoy had just referred to his father as dad. "And you're not going to ask about him again. Is that understood?"
"Not at all." Harry replied honestly, swallowing as the mask slipped further into place.
"There are some things you just don't need to know."
"You know everything there is to know about me. I just want the same."
Grey eyes blinked. They didn't soften; they didn't believe him.
But he was able to place the distrust to one side, as his gaze drifted from Harry's face to past his shoulder. He jerked his head, and they continued through the next corridor.
Harry hesitated a moment, not sure whether or not to be insulted. Draco knew everything about him. He sat in during the treatments, he had met his relatives, he had witnessed his weakest moments. And he had the gall to ignore some questions directed at him?
They were legitimate questions. Harry was quite worried; both Narcissa and Lucius had expected someone other than Draco to be in that room. And from their mutters, and the hesitant disarming spell, it wasn't a friendly visit they had anticipated. So who were they expecting?
And the question. That practise had drifted away as soon as the guilty Death Eaters were rounded up and sentenced; it was a time of peace. There was no reason to distrust your neighbour, or family anymore. Voldemort was dead, the war was won. So why were the Malfoy's keeping up the practise?
Something wasn't right here.
Harry followed Draco towards a door, crossing his arms as Draco swung it open and waited for Harry to enter first. He had to bite back the snap that he should determine it was actually Harry entering the room. That would be juvenile, though.
Draco's room was everything Harry expected it to be.
White. White walls, white carpet, white furnishings. And huge. It was as big as, if not bigger, than their dormitory at Hogwarts. A giant bed sat against a wall, which could have easily fit the entire Dursley family, and comfortably. No mean feat.
There were doors against the other wall, towards an ensuite and a walk-in-wardrobe, Harry assumed.
Other than the extravagance of it all, it seemed a normal teenagers bedroom. No posters covered the walls, but there was a desk near a window, a bookshelf against another wall, a chest beside the door. A clean bedroom, but a normal one.
Where was all the magic?
"Well?"
Harry glanced at the blonde, surprised that he was surprised. He had expected Draco to want to show off his room, to boast about it, to want approval. But he stood silently near the door, clicking it shut with a snap.
"I'm dirtying your floor." Harry replied, still frowning.
Draco seemed to sigh, but flicked his wand towards Harry. He left the door adruptly, shrugging off his coat and tossing it against the lounge. Yes, he had a lounge in his bedroom.
"So…no magical artefacts floating around?" Harry asked, trailing over to the bookcase. Merlin, Draco liked a dull read. There was only a single quidditch book in the entire collection; the rest was about potions, or transfiguration, or biographies. Harry ignored the dark arts books completely; he wasn't going to put up a fuss about an interest. Curiosity; that was why Draco has those.
"What did you expect? It's a bedroom." Clearly, he had to remind Harry because he had had so little experience with bedrooms.
"I dunno. Magic. A mirror that tells you to tuck in your shirt. Something."
"Tourist gimmicks." Draco didn't quite sneer, but it was a near miss. Harry glanced at him, checking the mask hadn't slipped back into place. He didn't know what Draco saw in his face, but it was enough for him to sigh, and visibly force his face to soften.
Draco strolled up to some double doors, opening them to reveal the extravagant cupboard within. Various items were placed delicately upon numerous shelves, each one in its proper place. Even locked away behind doors, everything was perfect.
Harry wandered over, blinking at the display of wealth before him. "Is that remembrall made from diamond?"
"A gift from my mother." Draco remarked, tossing it to Harry as if it was only glass. He was lucky Harry had retained his seeker skills, because otherwise that would have been a very expensive accident. A smirk crossed the blonde gits face as it turned deep red. "So, what have you forgotten?"
His potions, since Sunday. But Draco didn't need to know that.
"I can't remember. You know, these really need to be upgraded to tell you what exactly you remembered."
"Or, you could write a note and not forget in the first place."
Harry couldn't believe the things Draco had in here. First edition books, too valuable to be kept on the bookshelf. A tattered hat, that seemed surprisingly similar to the one Merlin wore in their History of Magic books. What looked like an engagement ring, but the spectacular stone flashed between colours, transforming from a sapphire, to a ruby, then an emerald. A large glass container that seemed empty, but large bubbles kept appearing in it and drifting from the top to the bottom, to disappear again. Harry didn't even pretend to know what that did. A…
"What's that?" Harry couldn't help the smile, at Draco's instantaneous blush. He had all these expensive items, and in it's midst...
"That's nothing."
"It made it onto the shelf. It's not nothing."
A tattered, faded plush dragon. It was sitting rather pathetically on the shelf, an eye missing, it's wings lopsided.
The door snapped shut, hiding it from view. "That's the last time I listen to your bloody puppy dog eyes."
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about; I think it's cute you kept your childhood toy."
"Erase it from your memory."
"You're not serious." Harry laughed, trying to open the cupboard again. His hand was snatched up as soon as it came close, Draco's fingers tightening around his wrist.
"I don't know how it came to be there. It's nothing more than a memory."
He was mortified over a toy, and yet he expected Harry to brush off a large collection of porn delivered during school hours? There was some serious hypocrisy going on here.
"What's it's name?" Harry asked, despite the glare drilling into his forehead. If only looks could kill. Or blind. Either would do, probably, in Draco's opinion. "Come on, I want to meet him."
"I don't remember." Draco sniffed, "Mother probably put it in there as a joke."
"You expect me to believe that?" Harry grinned, holding up his free hand in defeat. Draco was on the verge of snapping. "That your mum wanted you to keep a stuffed toy? From what I've seen at the Weasley's, it's a constant fight to get them to relinquish their old toys. And I'm sorry, but your mum doesn't seem like the practical joke kind."
"How fortunate for me that Malfoys are not Weasleys." Draco's eyes narrowed slightly, a nice juxtapose against his pink cheeks. "Potter, leave it."
Harry blinked at that, his own eyebrows rising. "Potter? I've reverted back to my last name, have I? Over a toy?"
"It's just a toy." Draco, replied evenly, if a tad coldly. "I don't see the importance, or the interest. Drop it."
Well, didn't this get awfully heated rather quickly?
Harry was left incredulous, unable to exactly pinpoint where the mirth that filled him moments ago had fled to. Draco was embarrassed, only god knows why, over the sighting of a childhood doll. Embarrassed Draco led to cold Draco…which just made Harry infuriated.
"You know everything about me, and yet you won't even tell me the name of your childhood toy?" He asked quietly. "I haven't seen you in days, and we're fighting over a bloody toy?"
"First of all, I do not know every miniscule detail about your life-"
"You've seen me chained to a bed. A little participation in the humiliation would be nice."
"It's not worth your time."
"How about you let me decide what's worth my time? Since it is my limited time."
Too far.
Draco's eyes turned icy, his mask snapping back into place. He shoved Harry's arm away roughly, twirling around and jerking open the cupboard. He snatched at the dragon, tossing it carelessly at Harry. "It's just a fucking toy. Congratulations on wasting your already limited time on something worthless."
And with that last Malfoy worthy sneer, he shoved past Harry, heading towards his bathroom.
Harry caught the toy on reflex, and spun back around, snatching out a hand to jerk Draco to a halt. The git tried to shrug his hold loose, but Harry was having none of it.
"Where the hell did all that come from?" Harry asked quietly, "We haven't had a fight that petty in ages."
"We always fight about petty things." Draco replied evenly, folding his arms across his chest. He portrayed calm, but his eyes shifted from livid to ice far too quickly. His mouth opened to continue, but snapped shut a moment later. He was probably going to give examples, going by how his eyes narrowed the more he thought. Gathering evidence, no doubt.
"I don't want to fight." Harry ignored the scoff with difficulty. God, he wanted nothing more than to punch this blonde twit. "I wasn't going to laugh. I wasn't going to mock you. What's important to you," He held up the toy, "Is important to me. I just wanted to know more about you."
"You know plenty already."
Fine. If that's how he wanted to be, Harry would comply.
"I could have pestered about the vault a tad more." Harry let Draco jerk his hand free, only because the git didn't move. "I could have asked why your mum seemed so relieved it was you. I could have asked why you had to sneak through the wards. Or who it was that both your parents were expecting. Or how you seemed completely uncomfortable when your dad walked into the room. Or why you don't have anything remotely homey on your walls. Or why you had to answer an identification question, when it's been months since that practise went out of fashion. Instead, I asked you about a fucking toy's name."
"Are you quite done?"
"This entire…whatever it is, flows in a single way! Towards you! Is it really so horrible of me to want to know more about my bloody boyf-…uh, you."
At least they were both embarrassed, now. Christ, referring to him as a boyfriend? That's all he needed; an inflated head.
A hint of a smirk had appeared, however. "Boyfriend? And why have I been demoted from fiancé?"
Harry shrugged, wary. "For whatever reason I was demoted from Harry to Potter."
Draco pinched his nose, an incredibly odd display of annoyance for him. "You're as fucking stubborn as me, Harry. It's a toy."
"I thought there were no secrets in marriage." Harry prodded, crossing his arms. "You remain demoted until you answer. I'm not as stubborn as you; I'm more stubborn."
Draco clicked his tongue, raising his eyebrows at that. He went to respond, but Harry cut him off. He wasn't as angry as he was moment ago; if he had time to think, however, he would remember he was supposed to be embarrassed and angry.
"Answer the question!"
"An answer for an answer." Draco snapped back, frowning.
"Fine!"
"Fine." Draco's frown disappeared in an instant, a smirk crossing his face. The ice melted, leaving amusement, and, Merlin forbid, smugness. He stretched, taking in what Harry was sure was a horrified expression, and laughed. "I'm not nearly as stubborn as you." Draco grinned, "But thank Salazar I'm more patient."
Harry could only blink, and let the terror gather in his stomach. Draco wasn't the slightest bit angry. He wasn't embarrassed, he wasn't annoyed. He looked like a cat that had just cornered a bird.
"My toy was called Draco, after myself. He is dragon, after all. Children are known to be very unoriginal with their toy names; and though it may surprise you, I was a child once upon a time, and I did have a toy I was very fond with. You will put him back on the shelf and out of harm's way, as soon as you're done fawning over him."
Harry glanced at the toy, and back to the almost grinning git.
"Did you really think I was that shallow? Everyone keeps at least one toy from childhood. I'm sure you have an owl or a bear or something in your chest."
"Nope." Harry shrugged, placing the toy gingerly back on the shelf. Anything to avoid what was surely coming. "I didn't have toys."
Draco blinked at that, but it didn't diminish his grin. Harry just waited; it was coming.
"So… Why are you so afraid of a cupboard?"
And there it was.
Harry sighed, a relieved smile breaking out. Thank god. He could avoid it.
Draco frowned at the smile; he was expecting denial, or fear. Not relief.
"Who's afraid of cupboards?" Harry replied, walking over to the extravagant one the other side of the room. He opened it easily, scoffing at the sheer amount or room, and clothing in here. Half this stuff would never be worn. Hell, not even a third of it.
He walked right into it, spinning in a little circle with his hands outstretched. "Not me; see, standing in a cupboard. Not terrifying in the least. You really should have picked your question better."
"You owe me an answer." Draco tried, sighing loudly as Harry shrugged.
"And I did. I'm not frightened of cupboards at all. Hell, I could probably sleep in here without batting an eye." Practise makes perfect.
"Harry," Draco wandered over, a hand on one hip and looking anything but pleased. "You know what I'm talking about."
"I do." Harry replied honestly, "And I can tell you, truthfully, that I'm not afraid of any cupboard. Do I seem the type of be afraid? I can take down a dragon, a giant snake, Voldemort…but I'm going to succumb to a little cupboard?"
"Whatever happened to a marriage having no secrets? Or am I still demoted?"
Harry had to laugh at that, exiting the cupboard, which was bigger than Dudley's second bedroom at Private Drive. "You're not demoted anymore, but we're not married. In fact, I strictly remember us not even being engaged. That was a newspaper article, remember?"
"I most certainly do not." Draco frowned, "I've been telling everyone we're bound for a winter wedding. Imagine the scandal if we cancel."
"First of all, it's mid-march. If you want a winter wedding, you have about two weeks to throw one together. And secondly, could you imagine the scandal if we didn't cancel?"
"I've always loved a scandal. Next winter, then." Draco murmured, his grin flittering back into place. "I'll set a date."
"Sure, why not?" Harry laughed at the silliness of it all. It was nice that Draco would pretend to plan their future; it made him feel quite loved, actually. Despite the fact they were both well aware of the futility of such a plan. "I can invite Flaky."
"That blasted snowman is not invited." Draco leaned in, curling his arms around the small of Harry's back. "He can sulk in a corner."
"I'll build him just on the outskirts of the reception." Harry promised, laughing. "I think he's developing some stalking tendacies. It's something he would do; turn up uninvited to a wedding."
"Of course he would, you dolt." Harry was pulled away from the cupboard, towards the large bed against the opposite wall. Excitement began to build in the pit of his stomach. "He has whatever tendacies you built him with."
"I create the body, not the personality."
"Tch, shut up."
.
.
.
Oh, Merlin.
Harry panted through the kisses, quite pleased that it was Draco writhing on the bed to his ministrations for once. Of course there had been the initial struggle; the constant flipping, a wrestle that seemed playful but had an underlying premise of domination. Draco did not want Harry sitting atop of him; there was not a compliant bone in his body. Every time Harry came close, he would tangle their feet and flip them, or roll them, or sit up and force Harry onto his back.
Why couldn't they be a normal couple and decide which role belonged to who?
By the time Harry finally managed to reverse their positions, both supported bite marks, knocked foreheads, and tired wrists. It was worth every discomfort.
Because Draco was flushed, eyes still so clear and attentive, but filled with lust and desire. Harry didn't think there was anything he could do to glaze those grey orbs, if for a moment, but he was willing to try. And try he did.
Hands explored the blonde's body eagerly, tracing over every muscle, every blemish, every scar before slipping into his briefs. He kissed fervently, for once taking control of the pace. He thought he felt, for the briefest of moments, a smirk against his lips; it was gone before he had a chance to glimpse it.
Draco didn't try to roll them again, as he had been, so Harry latched onto his throat, sucking and nibbling until he found a spot that made Draco gasp, the loudest sound he had made thus far. He didn't moan, or talk; he didn't make unsavoury noises in the bedroom. Thank Merlin, because Harry would chicken out if he made a single sarcastic comment.
Hands reached up, sliding up and down Harry's back, clenching tightly at each new ministration. He was squeezing so tightly it almost hurt. He would have a trail of fingerprint bruises down his side tomorrow.
Harry kissed the rather large hickey that marked Draco's lovely throat, taking a moment to rest his forehead against his pale chest. He rather hoped Draco would be too interested in what his hand was doing inside Draco's briefs, to notice Harry taking a breather. Honestly, who needed a break during sex? It couldn't possibly be normal, and it made Harry feel rather pathetic.
But he was exhausted. He couldn't catch his breath, and his limbs were aching. He had had that horrible potion torturing him a few hours ago, and the hospital had made him weary. He wanted to do this; body and mind and heart wanted this. But his body wasn't keeping up.
Draco ran a hand over the curve of Harry's back, fingertips dancing gently across the skin. He pressed a kiss to the top of his sweaty head; even now, he was as perceptive as ever.
But tonight was supposed to be about him, about passion, and lust, and not about Harry's illness.
Harry didn't want to be weak in front of Draco.
So he pressed a kiss to Draco's shoulder, pushing himself up so he wasn't resting anymore. He trailed lower, pressing his lips to every patch of skin he would find. Lower, and lower…
Draco gasped again, his stomach quivering with anticipation. Harry would have laughed, if it wouldn't have ruined to mood. Pecking Draco's stomach had created the most response so far; kissing was the big bad Slytherin's turn on button. It was…so Draco to want something so simple.
Harry travelled lower, dragging the briefs down to join Draco's trousers at his thighs. Never had he been this bold, and he loved it. Knowing he had just as much control over Draco as Draco had over him.
Fingers curled in his hair, both pulling at the roots and pushing his head down. A small hum escaped Draco's lips, before he jammed his mouth shut again. Harry hummed back, and those bloody fingers almost ripped his hair from his head. Christ, he wouldn't be doing that again.
Harry let his hands rest on Draco's hips, thumbs stroking against smooth skin softly. His hands were shaking with the effort to hold himself up. He wasn't going to be able to continue for much longer, no matter how he wanted nothing more than to cling to Draco all night, and be caressed in return. He didn't mind if he had to stop after this, as long as Draco's thumbs worked their magic and stroked his back, or his hip, or his hand in their tantalizing soft way. He would be content with that.
The fingers tightened in his hair once more, painfully, and then relaxed. They pulled gently, coaxing Harry to gather as much energy as he could and return to where he belonged at Draco's chest.
Lips met his with a sloppy kiss; alright, there was definitely a smirk there this time.
"Utter git." Harry panted, smiling as Draco laughed loudly. He couldn't imagine how unexciting it would be, without the fights and jibes. Maybe this was their routine, and if it was, Harry was perfectly fine with that.
The laughter stopped with the loud bang on the door.
Time moving still is one of the supreme clichés, but surprisingly accurate.
Harry stared at the door for a moment, heart skipping a beat. Had he imagined the sound, or was someone actually knocking on Draco's door? Was their time together about to be ruined, again?
He glanced at Draco, taking in how he had frozen, eyes straining in the dark to make out the door. He didn't seem to be breathing, either. Their eyes met, neither quite sure what to do.
Then, the lock clicked.
Someone had unlocked the door.
Someone was about to walk into Draco's room, to find him and Harry Potter half naked, sweaty, and obviously in the middle of a tryst.
They had about ten seconds.
Draco curled his hands around Harry's back, and rolled.
They rolled to the edge of the bed, kicking away the sheets that tried to ensnare them and tumbled off the edge. Harry landed atop of Draco, their heads smacking together roughly and enticing both to swear in hushed whispers.
"Fuh-k!" Draco snarled, pressing a hand to his forehead. He growled, clamping his mouth shut and glancing towards the door as it swung open. Harry's arm was grabbed, and pulled to follow Draco. They both scrambled under the bed, wincing as the light was turned on.
Harry watched as the large feet of whoever entered the room hesitated, then crossed to the bathroom. He shifted deeper under the bed, shuffling so his feet weren't poking out at the edge.
"Draco, we must talk." Oh, fantastic.
Lucius Malfoy's feet tapped impatiently, not impressed as he waited by the bathroom door.
Oh, god.
Harry turned to stare at the mortified Draco. He couldn't help it. It was too much.
He laughed.
Draco snapped a hand to Harry's mouth, bewildered. It muffled the noise, but it only made Harry want to laugh more. Mirth was bubbling up in his chest, incredulous, anxious mirth. He had to hold Draco's hand over his mouth, breathing in deeply to try to stop his silent laughter. His eyes were already watering from the effort to cease the hilarity.
"Shut up." Draco whispered, lips twitching. "Shut it."
But he couldn't. They were hiding from Lucius Malfoy, under a bed. First a curtain, now a bed…it was childish, and not that funny; but he couldn't stop wanting to laugh. Couldn't stop the adrenaline, and mirth; he felt alive.
Lucius' feet had stopped tapping; in fact, they had turned from the bathroom and were approaching the bed. Harry made a muted yelp, shuffling deeper under the bed, causing Draco to snort quite loudly, and clamp his own hand over his mouth.
They were in serious danger.
And the laughter was infectious.
"Draco, are you actually hiding under the bed?" He asked coldly, his foot tapping again as both Harry and Draco snorted, trying to muffle their giggles. "I am not amused."
Draco eventually took a deep, shaky breath, pulling his trousers up and quickly fastening them. His shirt was discarded on the bed, buttons ripped off. He would have all his hickeys on display.
Harry finally managed to breathe, and went to shuffle out after Draco. If Draco was brave enough to face his father, Harry would support him. But Draco shook his head, motioning for him to stay put. Though he didn't want to, considering he was quite defenceless under here.
Silence answered Draco's reveal.
Harry could just picture it; Draco, cocky as ever, shirtless, trousers hanging low on his hips, hair dishevelled and lips red. There was no question to what Lucius had just walked in on. The frightening question would be when Lucius queried who else was in the room.
"Father, you wanted to talk?" Draco eventually asked, voice still amused. He would be wearing that bloody smirk, if just to antagonise his dad more.
"Wipe that smug expression from your face before I do." Lucius' voice was ice compared to Draco's. "Am I to assume you snuck out, and put as all at risk, to sneak some wench into my manor?"
"Almost accurate." Draco's voice was frost in return. "A friend, not a wench."
"You ridiculous boy." He snarled, shuffling closer to the bed. Harry shuffled closer to Draco's side, ready to hide his face if Lucius decided to peer under the bed. "You put us all at risk to sate your lust? What if the aurors found out you were wandering around? You could go to Azkaban, Draco! They could use it as an excuse to throw me into Azkaban!"
"It was worth it." Draco drawled in return. "Anyway, I'm not on house arrest. I'm suspended from school, not on Death Eater watch. If I decided to pop into London, the aurors won't give a flying fuck. I didn't hex any muggles whilst there, so I doubt they noticed."
"I forbade you from leaving this house tonight." Lucius snarled, "As the head of this house, you will obey me!"
"Of course, Father. We all know how your choices only benefit the family." There was a tense silence, wherein the loudest object was probably Harry's heartbeat. "I'm glad we had the time to talk, father."
Harry blinked, amazed at his boldness. Dracojust dismissed his father. Even Harry wouldn't do that to the Dursley's, who he felt nothing for. It was a loud statement, one heard by the entire room. No one was laughing now.
"Your little rebellion ends now." Lucius near whispered. The room dropped another ten degrees. "Get your little wench from under the bed, take them to the nearest fireplace, and then you will return here for our talk."
Harry was already half crawling from the bed, ready to bolt to the nearest fireplace, but Draco placed a foot on his arm, halting him. He wasn't standing on him, just refusing to let him pass. "My friend isn't going anywhere. In fact, he's staying the night."
"Draco, don't make me vanish the bed. It's expensive."
Draco didn't respond, but slowly picked up the wand on the bedside table. "Try me."
This was worse than when Harry stood up against Snape, Voldemort, and Umbridge combinded. The tension in the room was palpable; Harry could easily reach out and grab it. What the hell had happened that made the Malfoy's ready to hex each other into submission?
Harry shoved himself further under the bed as the door opened once again; Merlin, it was becoming crowded in here. And worse by the fact he didn't just squirm from under the bed and face Lucius like a man; he felt like a coward. But it was what Draco wanted, so Harry allowed the cowardice to take reign.
"What is going on in here?" Narcissa asked quietly, voice cold. "Relinquish your wands, both of you." There was a moment of silence again, nearly heart stopping. "Lucius. Disarm." Merlin, and Harry had thought Lucius was icy. Narcissa was obviously the one that had instructed Draco in how to sound as cold as possible. Even the dust particles stopped floating, as if terrified to be in the room.
"I told you to leave him be." She said quietly, "Now leave him be."
"He snuck in-!"
"Of course he has! He's a teenage boy!" Her voice snapped like a whip. "Now leave him be."
Harry was left to watch in near wonder as Lucius stormed from the room with those few words said. If he wasn't afraid of being hexed into oblivion, he would have asked her for lessons.
"Draco, do not cast your wand on your father." She said quietly, turning to the door herself. "I hope we haven't scared off your…partner."
The door snapped shut with a click.
"Fuck."
Draco dropped back to the floor, smirk crossing his face. "Well, scared, Harry?"
"You wish." He grinned, squirming out himself. He sat up, rolling his eyes as Draco brushed imaginary specs of dust from his shoulders. "Your mum is…"
"Me, in twenty plus years." Draco grinned, "Salazar, I have to buy her some jewellery now. She knows it's you, by the way."
"What?" And just as his heart was beginning to learn how to beat again. "How?"
"She was staring at your glasses. Anything that atrocious is memorable."
"And…she's okay with this?"
"She didn't jinx you through to the next room, so we're going to have to assume she's open for persuasion." Harry couldn't believe the git was laughing, chuckling away like nothing extremely terrifying had just happened. If anything, he seemed in a greater mood than before.
Bloody Malfoy's.
"Come on, shower. And then, I'm going to have to persuade you into telling me about this infamous cupboard."
"Only if you tell me about the tension with your dad, and the issues with the aurors."
Draco just smirked, infuriatingly. He thought he was going to get the information from Harry without getting anything in return. Tch, the only possible way Harry was going to tell him anything about the cupboard under the stairs was if he was drugged up on truth serum.
Neither were going to get what they wanted.
But they were going to bicker, and jibe, and trick each other either way.
And Harry was perfectly fine with that.
.
.
.
Minerva sighed to herself again, glancing at the fireplace again. She hadn't slept during the night, waiting to see if Mister Potter…Harry…returned from his first hospital trip healthy and safe. Well, not healthy. He wouldn't be healthy again, poor boy. But she could ensure he would return safely…
She couldn't even do that.
She could sit in her office, and let the guilt gnaw away at her for sending a sick boy to the hospital alone, to struggle against a cruel and vile disease, and be pulled apart emotionally by distant healers. She hadn't witnessed this 'diagnostic' herself, but she had heard it was contemptible. Torture, even, to those it was performed on. Torture seemed an exaggeration, and she had dismissed it.
Until she saw Potter, exhausted and hesitant, shuffling through her office.
He hadn't wanted to go; that had been apparent to all her portraits, each of whom had commented. He had seemed apprehensive, fretful, and, Godric forbid, fearful. Harry Potter was afraid of whatever would occur at the hospital.
That was enough to make anyone think twice about the procedure.
It was for the best, though. He would be under better care at the hospital than at the school. The other students would be protected. Madam Pomfrey might recover from her break down. Despite what Potter thought, it was for the best, for all.
She glanced at the fireplace again, tapping her quill as it remained empty. It was past dawn; surely he should have returned by now? What if he decided to run amuck in London…no, he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't risk his place in Hogwarts if he truly considered it his home. He would return immediately, tot his fireplace. It was the only one open to the floo, and she hadn't left her office all night.
Minevera sighed, rubbing her temples as if to soothe them. Headaches were becoming a constant trend recently. Neither of her predecessors had complained about headaches, or the difficult decisions she would have to make. They made it look easy.
She shifted in her chair, staring up at the portrait of Albus.
He stared solemnly back, blue eyes without their twinkling. He did not approve of her decisions; though he had never said it outright, he had stopped chatting to her. His silence revealed his disappointment.
"Harry's not back yet." She said quietly, reaching for her morning tea. "Do you think he's alright?"
"Of course he isn't." The first words he's spoken in days. A slap in the face.
"There's nothing more I can do for him."
"I don't doubt you believe that."
"But you expect more."
"I am a painting, Minerva. I cannot expect anything of you." Usually that would be accompanied by a smile, or his infamous eye twinkling. Today, nada. "This is your reign as Headmistress; it wouldn't do for a past Headmaster to dictate the running of the school. I'm here to provide you only guidance." If he agreed with her way of running the school, however, that little excerpt about guidance wouldn't have been added.
She sighed again, rubbing her forehead to dissuade the oncoming headache. "Then provide me direction; what have I possibly done to deserve your disappointment?"
The portrait of Albus seemed to be staring through her, seeing into her very soul. It wasn't as grand as the real Albus was capable of, but it was enough to make anyone uneasy, Minerva included. He seemed to be contemplating her question deeply, trying to find the perfect words.
"You don't tickle a sleeping dragon. Minerva, you prodded it until it snapped back."
The fire flashed brightly, drawing every eye in the room.
Finally.
Harry walked through the fireplace, a hint of a smile on his face. He glanced at her, nodded, and scurried to the door, as if afraid to stay any longer than utterly necessary. An absolute change from the numb boy that had shuffled in here anxiously yesterday. It wasn't as bad as he had thought. She had no need to feel this unendurable guilt.
"Love saved Harry once." Albus spoke quietly, almost a whisper. A quick glance had her speechless; the twinkle had returned. "Perhaps it can again."
.
.
.