Authors notes: I want to thank my BETAs Koorime and ChibiBecca. I would also like to appologise if people start craving cookies oo; Oh, and this Fic is set in Bath, Wiltshire, my hometown, so sorry if it sounds like a travel brochure at times ^^
Draco awoke with a start, hearing something unintelligible being shouted into the gloom of the room. He sat up, blearily looking around, remembered Harry was sleeping on his sofa and realised that that was where the shouting was coming from.
He threw his duvet aside, vaguely noticing it was still dark outside, and made his way quickly to the sofa and Harry. He dropped to his knees at the still sleeping boy’s side and grabbed his shoulders, trying to stop him from thrashing about. “Harry! Harry, wake up!”
Slowly Harry quieted, the shouting stopping first and then movements slowing down. Eventually the raven-haired boy was still and he removed his hands from where they were clamped tightly on surprisingly strong shoulders. He sat back on his heels, wondering just what the hell was going on and then found himself looking into suddenly open emerald eyes.
He almost gasped at the fear evident in them. Harry blinked a few times, the fear slowly diminishing and then sat up rubbing them fiercely, mumbling an unnecessary apology, wiping tear tracks from his cheeks.
“What was that all about?” Draco whispered hoarsely, thinking of the very real fear he had seen in the other boy’s eyes for only a moment.
“Forgot my Occlumency,” Harry muttered, clutching the blanket tightly and moving as if to hug it to his chest. Draco understood now, he had forgotten to practice his Occlumency the night before and consequently suffered a vision. But what had he seen to make him look, well, look like this?
Without thinking, Draco reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around Harry’s wrists, carefully pulling them away from his chest and the blankets. Inch by careful inch he pulled the taller boy into an embrace, where he found himself being clutched tightly. He tucked the raven mop under his chin and discovered Harry was shaking slightly.
“Is it always like this?” he asked quietly and felt a nod against his chest. He sighed lightly, finally understanding the real reason Harry paid such close attention to his Occlumency lessons. If he had suffered from visions like this, he would too.
“Can you tell me?” he asked just as quietly, almost whispering. For a moment there was no response, Harry only clung to him a little tighter, the arms wrapped round his chest moving to a more comfortable position, then he whispered, “I was Voldemort again.”
Draco started slightly, realizing Harry hadn’t simply meant he felt what Voldemort did when he had told him about the visions earlier, he meant he took Voldemort’s place in those visions. No wonder he was terrified.
The gentle whisper continued, “Zabini and the other guy, Voldemort knew him as Osborne, told him about Colin. They burned him and put his ashes in his own hearth. Then he asked two initiates if they would join the Death Eaters.” There was a long pause as Harry apparently collected his thoughts.
“They refused and he tortured them.” Draco felt the arms round his ribs tighten again as Harry whispered, “God Draco, he enjoyed it, every minute of it. I can still hear their screams, and I think – I think I knew them, their voices, I recognized their voices.”
Harry’s voice trailed off and Draco couldn’t help himself, he tightened his own arms around the scared boy in his embrace, trying to reassure him, and pressed his lips into the soft hair.
He felt Harry stiffen slightly in his arms, and then relax. Within a few moments the trembling had subsided and they just held each other in silence, Draco still on his knees beside the sofa where Harry sat with his head on Draco’s chest, twisted at what must have been an uncomfortable angle with his legs tangled in the blankets.
Draco closed his eyes and gently ran his left hand down Harry’s back, smoothing out the creases of his t-shirt. It was a reassuring gesture his mother had often used on him as a child when he had nightmares and was an almost unconscious movement on his part. He felt Harry move in his arms, relaxing further at the gentle touch, so he did it again and murmured something about being safe now.
The hands that had been resting lightly on his back clutched at the material of his top as he again ran his hand down the other boy’s back. He slowly pressed his lips into the soft hair, silencing himself and stilled as Harry moved. A moment later he was looking into those deep green eyes only inches from his own. Harry wasn’t wearing his glasses so Draco could see every sparkle, every change of colour and noticed for the first time that Harry’s eyes were two shades of green, and round the edge the green faded slightly and was ringed with a colour that could only be described as silver.
For a moment he just looked, entranced by this sudden revelation, staring at the beautiful folds of colour before him, brightened from the shed tears.. He wondered how he had never noticed it before, but knew, instinctively, that it was the glasses, the glasses that hid so much from the world. He moved one hand from Harry’s shoulders and touched the tips of his fingers to one lightly tanned and morning shadowed cheek. The eyes closed as he caressed the perfect skin and he felt a gentle pressure as Harry leaned into the touch.
The hands on his back tightened again, clutching at the downy material and he closed the small distance between them. His eyes fluttered closed as he brushed his lips over Harry’s, his heart nearly bursting when he felt him respond. He moved his hand up into the soft raven hair and kissed him again.
Harry sighed gently and moved one hand onto the back of his neck as they kissed, making him tremble slightly. He gently coaxed the soft lips open and their tongues met in a slow exploration.
Draco made a faint noise in the back of his throat as realization hit him. He had wanted this since they had first seen each other only ten days ago, it was the reason he had stopped to talk to the boy, the reason he had extended the hand of friendship that he had been longing to do from the first day they met. This time it hadn’t been refused, and it had been the start of something they couldn’t turn away from. Not now.
He remembered, now, that very first time they had met, the feelings that had flooded him at the time but hadn’t been able to understand.. The feelings he had carried with him, deep inside, through all the years they had known each other.
He deepened the kiss and felt Harry respond in kind, then leaned forward slightly, moving him back against the sofa until he was leaning over the supine body. He felt the hand on his back move tentatively, slowly running up and down his back and he moved his own, gently touching Harry’s ribs, the side of his abdomen, his hip. Harry moaned gently into his mouth and he rested his hand there, doing nothing other than lightly stroke with his thumb.
Slowly and carefully he climbed onto the sofa and they stretched out together, bodies touching from lips to chests to other areas that were beginning to make themselves known. He felt Harry’s legs shift under him, the knees separating and moving further apart until he was nestled comfortably between them, the blanket now lying forgotten at the other end of the makeshift bed.
Harry stopped kissing him then and pulled away with a muted moan and gently pulled his head down, kissing him lightly on the forehead before resting his own against it. For a moment they lay there, listening to each other’s labored breathing until Draco heard the minute intake of breath before speaking.
“What are we doing?” Harry whispered so quietly he had to strain to hear him. He shook his head in response, not knowing how to answer. He opened his eyes and looked down into the other boy’s, seeing the hungry look he knew was mirrored in his own. He felt Harry move beneath him and groaned slightly at the contact. He looked down again and saw the need he had seen so long ago, calling out to him, needing him to respond. So he leaned in and, without closing his eyes this time, kissed him again, slowly and reassuringly.
The Gryffindor’s hips bucked slightly under him as they kissed and they both moaned round each others tongues as the contact sent shivers up his spine. He again trailed one had down the body beneath him, reveling in the simple touch, feeling his breath hitch as a hand moved to grasp the cloth at his collar, the other slipping under it on his back and moving against bare skin, the movements no longer tentative but purposeful. Gentle fingers traced slowly up his spine, as if memorizing every protuberance, every slide of muscle under skin.
He gasped slightly as Harry’s nails ran a trail down his back, just hard enough to leave marks, but not so hard as to hurt. Where the hell had Harry learned just the right pressure? He paused mid-kiss to regain his breath and felt his bottom lip nibbled in much the same way as his back had been treated. He was steadily beginning to wonder how much Harry actually knew about this, as shivering tendrils of heat ran through his body in response to the light nibbling.
Before he could move back in for the kiss, he felt soft lips against the skin of his throat. His breath caught again at the gentle touch and then released all at once when he felt them move, trailing slowly up his jugular, nipping and licking as they went, until his ear was taken in the warm mouth and sucked slightly then nipped.
“Harry-” he whispered, unable to stop himself. He felt Harry smile against the skin of his neck and the hand clutching the cloth at his collar tightened slightly. He moved his free hand down, then up and under the t-shirt, caressing the lightly muscled stomach before moving round and up the back, feeling toned muscles moving beneath smooth skin.
His hips twitched against Harry’s as the other boy gently nipped the dip at the base of his throat and they both caught their breath. They kissed again, hungrily, not even pausing for breath before Draco pulled away and took one of Harry’s ears between his teeth. Nails trailed down his back again as he kissed his way down the throat, pausing to nuzzle the light smattering of morning stubble already on his cheek.
He slipped his other hand from Harry’s hip and up under the t-shirt, gently tugging at the material, making his wishes known. He marveled at the feel of muscle on Harry’s stomach and almost desperately wanted to see him. The raven-haired boy complied, allowing him to pull the material up and away. Briefly, he pinned Harry’s arms in the cloth and kissed him mercilessly, smiling at the playful struggles. His own top soon followed, dropped carelessly on top of the t-shirt.
They lay for a short while, looking at each other’s bare chests, lightly tracing finger tips over skin neither had seen before, reveling in the newness. Draco moved a hand and placed it palm down, flat against the skin a few shades darker than his own, over the breast bone, feeling Harry’s heart beating in tandem to his own. He stayed as he was for a moment, eyes closed, before leaning down and gently brushing his lips over the area, the small amount of soft dark hair tickling his lips pleasantly.
He kissed his way back up to Harry’s mouth and they kissed again, almost tenderly, their bare chests touching, the new sensations to his brain in sharp contrast to the feeling when there were two layers of cloth between them, hips moving almost independently of thought, rubbing together in slow movements that had them both moaning within moments.
He felt Harry move one of his hands down and it grabbed his hip, stilling them both. Their lips parted, but neither moved away, and they gasped for breath. He could feel the familiar tug in his stomach already and was grateful for that staying hand. They shouldn’t be doing this, not here, not now, even if they both really wanted to. He took a deep, shuddering breath, about to tell Harry this, when he was interrupted.
“I know,” the whispered agreement was tinged with regret and heady with a heat that made Draco wish they could go on, despite his determination to stop and wait. He nodded slightly but didn’t move, relishing the feel of skin on skin, as well as other things, while it lasted.
“Merlin-” he mumbled, resting his forehead against the top of Harry’s head, breathing deeply. Harry shifted slightly, making them both shudder, hips moving together again, and then Draco moved. With heartfelt regret, he moved out of Harry’s legs and sat up. After a moment the other boy joined him, slipping his surprisingly strong arms round his shoulders. They sat together in silence, slowly regaining the breath they had lost and calming down.
“Where did you learn that?” he eventually whispered, leaning into the embrace, not embarrassed by the slight crack in his voice. He felt silent laughter, but didn’t move. “Was there some girl I failed to notice?” He was unable to keep the mirth out of his voice.
“Girl?” Harry repeated quietly, “The thing with Cho was over before it began and Hermione was a big mistake. So no, no girls.” Draco stayed quiet, waiting patiently for Harry to tell him in his own time.
Eventually Harry whispered, “It was Dean Thomas, if you must know.”
At this Draco did stir, he sat up slightly to better see Harry’s face. He looked at the green eyes and the shy smile and blinked. “Dean Thomas?” Harry nodded, and he felt fingers brush his lips. He settled back into the embrace. How the hell had he missed that? He didn’t really understand why, but he felt a little jealous. “Why? When?” he asked quietly.
He could feel that Harry was still trying not to laugh aloud, “Who could resist all that dark skin?” A pause, “A couple of months before summer.” He sounded a little more serious now, and the silent laughter had subsided. “It was a short fling, but quite passionate. We learned a lot together.”
As if answering Draco’s unspoken question Harry quietly said, “It never went further than the two of us either. We both come from families that don’t exactly harbor nice feelings towards, well, homosexuals and felt it prudent not to come out yet.”
So that was it. Draco understood far too well and said so. Harry nodded into his hair in response and they fell silent again, just sitting together, enjoying each other’s presence. After a while they began to notice the cold and the light slowly appearing underneath the curtains.
Draco led Harry to the bed, forsaking the sofa entirely and they climbed into the comfortable warmth. They curled together on their right sides; his chest pressed contentedly against Harry’s back, arms wrapped around him with the duvet pulled almost to their chins. It was warm and infinitely comfortable and within minutes they were fast asleep.
Harry drifted into consciousness more warm and comfortable than he had ever been in his life. For a few sleepy moments he couldn’t quite figure out why that was. There was a warm pressure against his back and something equally warm wrapped round his chest.
He opened his eyes and remembered.
Smiling to himself, he snuggled closer to the warm body pressed against his and looked out at the room. There was a streak of light on the wall opposite him, from a crack in the curtains. It must have been late morning by now. He really didn’t want to get up, but he knew he had to send an owl to Ron and Hermione telling them he was ok and accepting the Weasley’s offer to stay at The Burrow for the rest of the summer.
Resigning himself, he gently removed Draco’s arm from where it was slung over and round his chest and slowly extricated himself from the tangle of limbs, careful not to wake the other boy. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and stretched, yawning slightly. He wrinkled his nose when he remembered his glasses were on the other side of the room.
Harry slowly made his way across the room, silently cursing his short-sightedness, until he reached the sofa and found his glasses lying under the two discarded tops. Without thinking about it, he slipped his glasses on and folded the tops, placing them on the back of the sofa, then, smiling, he made his way to the bathroom..
When he came back into the main room, Draco was just waking up. Harry smiled at the blonde who looked as tired as he felt, and pulled out one of his new shirts, slipping the light material over his head, pulling it down over his bare chest. That brought back the sensation of pulling Draco’s expensive top off last night, he remembered the feel of the other boys pale smooth skin and lightly muscled torso.
He shook himself as he pulled on a new pair of jeans. “You know anywhere I can send an owl from?” Draco managed to sit up and look at him blearily, before rubbing at his eyes and mumbling, “Yeah, 's down the road.”
Speaking of owls, there was a loud tapping on the window. Draco swore openly and let the bird in, quickly paying it before flicking the paper open.
“Rita didn’t write anything, thank god, and there’s nothing else interesting. They’ve completely glossed over the Shire attack.”
Harry nodded, he had known they would. Even now, when people finally believed Voldemort was out there, his Death Eaters attacks were played down or just not mentioned at all. He heard Draco throw the paper on the bed and smiled to himself.
Before long Draco was ready and they were both pulling on light summer jackets. Harry grinned despite himself when the blonde mumbled about getting up so bloody early and halfheartedly threatened to tie him down next time so he could get a decent lie in.
The local Owlery turned out to be, well, not what Harry expected for one. It was in the middle of a muggle housing district, halfway up one of the hills Bath was situated on and was actually a rather old looking mini mansion. From the outside it looked like an old boarding school from the twenties or something. The architecture was quite awe inspiring. Inside it had been turned into what could loosely be termed a ‘post office.’
Harry strongly suspected that any muggle looking at the building was left with the distinct impression of a private home. He quickly bought parchment and quill and sat in the corner penning a quick note. He let the Weasleys know he was perfectly fine, that nothing untoward had actually happened to him and accepted their offer of having him over for the last three weeks of summer.
Draco leaned against the wall looking over his shoulder the whole time, making the occasional snippy comment about his handwriting. He simply brushed the comments off with a smile and handed the rolled parchment to the woman standing at the desk. She smiled at him, eyes darting to his forehead and he turned to leave before she could say anything.
To his surprise, Draco was smirking at him, “What?”
The blonde simply shook his head, his pale eyes closing for a moment, so he fell in beside him as they made their slow way back into the center of town. They silently agreed that going back to the hotel would be a bad idea, so they walked aimlessly about the streets for a while, talking about nothing and everything, avoiding the one subject still in both their minds. The death of Colin Henderson.
They spent a couple of hours window shopping, though Draco insisted on actually buying a few things here and there, browsing through the many varied shops in the area, stopping for something to eat at one of the smaller, out of the way cafés.
Eventually, when it was nearing six, they decided to head back. Lost in conversation with one another they didn’t notice things around them, especially as the streets were fairly empty. Without knowing how it happened, Harry walked into a large body, bounced backwards slightly and landed in Draco’s surprised grasp.
Both boys looked up and found themselves staring into the rather red face of Uncle Vernon. Quite hastily Harry straightened himself, an almost instinctive reaction whenever he saw that look on his Uncle’s face.
Draco noticed Harry’s reaction and frowned. Not only was this man the lowest form of humanity on the planet, and that was saying something when people like Peter Pettigrew were still alive, he seemed to have a hold over the Gryffindor that he’d never have believed possible if he hadn’t just seen it with his own eyes.
Harry acted like a damn servant around this man! He was making himself, however unconsciously, tidy and doing everything but bow before him!
His temper began to rise and he took hold of Harry’s shoulder, staring down the stick insect of a woman behind Vernon that must be Aunt Petunia and glaring at the whale of a boy that was obviously Dudley. The nicotine-blonde woman looked down her nose at him and moved behind Vernon slightly, but Dudley stood his ground, though he paled a little under Draco’s baleful gaze.
“Well, Harry. We wondered if you were still around. Not been taken to that nest of twisted miscreants you call friends yet?” Vernon sniffed arrogantly, “Too much to hope for really.”
Draco felt Harry’s shoulder tense under his hand as he shot back, “The Weasleys are not ‘miscreants’! Don’t you dare call them that!”
Vernon bristled; fluffing his moustache in what would have been a hilarious fashion had both boys not been rather incensed.
“I’ll call them what I bloody well like, boy.” He turned his eyes on Draco and sniffed again, “And I suppose you’re the same as him? Another Freak? You must be down on your luck to be hanging around with this-”
Draco snarled. He even surprised himself with the response. But it shut Vernon up and made the other two muggles look at him. He sneered, not looking at Harry as he did so, giving his full attention to the huge man standing before him. He kept his voice low, so they had to strain to hear him, but his every word dripped with venom.
“I’ll have you know, Muggle, that I could buy your entire worthless house with my allowance. In no way, shape or form am I ‘down on my luck.’ Neither am I a freak. I leave that position in this world to you and your worthless family.”
He watched the shock cross Vernon’s face, soon replaced with anger that blotched his face purple. “Why, you insolent little bastard! I take it your family instilled about as much discipline as his! If it weren’t for the fact that the lot of you are – are FREAKS – I’d be having words with your father!”
He snarled again and took a step forward.. With a gentle flick of his left wrist his wand shot into his hand from its sheath on the underside of his forearm. Vernon jumped, as did Petunia and Dudley.
“You are perfectly welcome to go see my father any time you wish, Vernon,” he growled the name and felt Harry’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn, only continued, “You can find him in Azkaban Prison. He’s there on murder charges, as well as more than a dozen others.”
He pointed the tip of his wand directly between the man’s eyes. His voice calm as he whispered, “He taught me everything I know. Want me to show you?”
Vernon visibly paled and Petunia almost wailed, clutching at one of her husband’s fat arms. He felt Harry place a slightly trembling hand on his shoulder, “Draco?” He didn’t move for a moment, then turned his eyes on the woman. She trembled and clung tighter.
He looked back at Vernon, directly in the eyes gone dark with fear. “I know what you did to Harry, and guess what? When you turn seventeen, you can practice magic whenever you like.” His eyes narrowed and his voice filled with menace, “I turned seventeen three weeks ago.”
Finally he stepped away and turned back to Harry. The raven-haired Gryffindor was staring at him in abject amazement. He smiled warmly, a full hearted real smile, the first one he’d given anybody in years.
“Come on then. Things to see, people to do.”
Harry smiled back at Draco, nodding. He glanced once at his muggle relatives, the people he now knew he would never see again. He gave them a cursory nod, patted the flinching Dudley on the shoulder and fell in beside Draco, knowing full well that the Dursleys were watching them as they walked away.
Return to Archive | next | previous