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Author's notes: lyrics by Laura Marling



Harry Potter was determined to keep busy. In the months following his defeat of Voldemort, Harry had plenty of things to keep his mind from facing reality. Sure, the funerals were about as real and as raw as one could get, and watching Fred getting lowered into the ground as his family sobbed was gut-wrenching, but at least Harry could focus on his guilt and their pain instead of his own loneliness, confusion, and heartache.


In his determination to keep busy, Harry took up construction and remodeling. He worked through plans to make Grimmauld Place feel more like a home. Right now, he, Ron, and Hermione were all living at the Burrow, and things were getting a bit cramped. Not to mention the pained stares he would catch Ginny shooting his way. Harry just couldn't take the guilt of knowing he couldn't love her the way she wanted him to, even after everything her family went through for him.


Alternately, when he really needed to get away, Harry went to Hogwarts to help in the rebuilding. Everyone took their turns putting up pieces of crumbled walls and sifting through the debris of the destroyed castle. Ron had a particular affinity for the hard labor, and Hermione said he was 'working through his emotions' or something like that, which resulted in him becoming a sweat-soaked titan of sorts. Harry would follow him, and try to ignore the clenching in his heart when he found a particularly clear piece of desk, a child's toy, or an historic artifice.

Neville Longbottom showed up to repair the castle as well, along with Seamus and Dean (though Seamus was disappointed at the lack of dynamite) and it turned into a regular reunion of sorts, as different friends from Luna to Lavender would come around to put Hogwarts back together again. Between funerals, and two rebuilding projects, Harry didn't have to focus on what he’d lost, the life he never had a chance to live, and the pain he felt over what he dragged those he loved into.


Four months after the war, The Great Hall was completely rebuilt, and Harry's kitchen at Grimmauld place was complete. Kreacher decided to make it in warm yellows and blues, and Harry didn't care, as long as he could eat in it. To celebrate the accomplishment, Harry invited Ron and Hermione over for dinner. Ron showed up sweaty and dust-streaked, but content, his arm around Hermione with a warm smile on her face.


"Wow, Ron. If you keep working at the school you're going to be ripped enough to join the Aurors in no time!" Harry said, welcoming them inside and handing Ron a towel. The rest of the house was still dusty and old, but as they made their way into the kitchen, Hermione and Ron both made impressed compliments.


"Speaking of the Aurors, Harry, have you decided what you are going to do this fall?" Hermione asked. She asked the question casually, but the tension rolling through all of them was palpable. This was the first time one of them had brought up the future.


"Have you?" Harry asked, deflecting.


"I'm going back to Hogwarts, of course," Hermione answered primly. "As if there were any other option. I want to make sure I get the most out of my education."


"Well, I don't think I'll be doing that," Harry said, bracing himself for a lecture. "I just...can't...feel that normal."


"I understand," Hermione whispered, and Harry was grateful he didn't have to go into detail.


"I need to stay with George," Ron said. They knew that meant helping in the shop, and no one would question that decision. Ron's family needed him, and he needed to be there.


"Well, the trials are coming up. I am going to need to testify a lot. I've already gotten a letter for Yaxley's trial," Harry explained. Ron and Hermione had gotten theirs too.


"You know, Draco Malfoy was at the school today," Hermione said, giving Harry a pointed look that he couldn't read at all.


Harry froze at his table, locking his eyes on something to his right so that his friends couldn't read his expression. He wouldn't tell them this, but he thought of Draco Malfoy nearly every single day since the end. He moved Malfoy's wand back and forth in his hands before he went to bed, wondering how the other wizard was, if he got another wand, and if he managed to get The Dark Lord's stench out of his house.


"Oh really?" Harry said, feigning disinterest.


"Yeah. I think he's trying to show he's making good before his trial," Ron explained. "Whatever, as long as the work gets done. He worked fast too."


"A few people didn't want him there-" Hermione started.


"Is someone hurting him?" Harry asked, suddenly unable to suppress his emotions.


"Just some unkind words so far. McGonagall is keeping an eye on him," Hermione explained, giving him a flinty gaze.


Thankfully, after that, both Ron and Hermione dropped the subject and they finished dinner talking about what subjects Hermione wanted to take and what product ideas Ron had for Wheezes. Harry talked about his plans to remodel Grimmauld Place hoping that would satisfy Hermione as a good post-war activity.


However, that night, Harry held Draco Malfoy's hawthorn wand against his chest, unable to get the other wizard out of his mind.




The next day found Harry shakily ascending the grand front steps of Malfoy Manor. There was a letter in his hand, summoning him to both Malfoy's and Narcissa's trial. Harry wondered why he didn't get a letter for Lucius, but knew he wouldn't have had anything kind to say about the man anyway, so it was probably better. But he knew he needed to talk to Malfoy, to give him back his wand, and tell him that he would speak on the Slytherin's behalf. As he raised his hands to knock, he wondered why he couldn't just send an owl.


Before he could turn back around, the doors flew open, and Malfoy stood there with a shocked, fearful look on his face. Harry tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace twisting across his lips. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and avoided Malfoy's penetrating stare.


"To what do I owe the pleasure, Potter?" Malfoy finally asked, his voice sounding as shaky as Harry felt. Harry dumbly lifted his summons from The Ministry and Malfoy paled.


"They want me to testify," Harry explained unnecessarily.


"Come to gloat then? Come to tell me you're sealing my fate? You don't think I already know I'm going to rot?" Malfoy asked, his voice gruff with anger.


"I'm going to speak on your behalf. Your mother's too. Neither of you should be in Azkaban." Harry said, his determination make him feel more confident.


"Why the fuck would you speak for any of us?" Malfoy said, his cold demeanor crumbling.


"I'm alive because of your mother." Harry said frankly. He told Malfoy of Narcissa's actions in the forest, and as the story echoed off the walls of the foyer, Malfoy slowly sunk to the floor.


"She...she did that? Why didn't she say anything?" Malfoy asked.


"I'm not sure. Maybe she was afraid the other Deatheaters might try to hurt her if they found out?" Harry offered, shuddering at the horrifying thought of possible retaliation.


"Bloody fuck- Sorry, Potter. I just...this is just...." Malfoy put his head in his hands. Harry resisted the urge to put an arm around Malfoy's shaking shoulders.


"I'm sure she'll be okay once the other Death Eaters are in prison," Harry offered.


"Where my father is," Draco said, even shakier.


"Should I not say anything?" Harry asked. He didn't care if Lucius Malfoy was beaten to a pulp, but he was having a hard time bearing the thought of Draco being hurt in the process. Harry's thoughts shocked him and he took a few steps back from the other wizard.


"Potter, please! My mother...she...she can't handle Azkaban." Draco looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Do whatever you want to me, but don't hurt her."


"Gods, Malfoy...I would you know me at all?" Harry said, kneeling down in front of the shaking wizard. He noticed then that Draco's skin was even more pale and gaunt than usual, and he was as thin as a rail. Harry's heart began to break.


"No." Draco whispered. "I don't know you."


“Of course I’m going to testify on your behalf! Did you think I just pulled you out of the fire to see you rot later?” Harry shouted. Draco just looked up at him in shock and nodded his head slightly.


“I…” Draco turned his head and made to look like he was busy fixing a drink.


“Who the fuck do you think I am, Draco,” Harry asked, walking up behind Malfoy, trying to get him to turn around. The other man jumped at the sound of his given name.


Harry could feel the electricity running through his veins. He was furious, and sad, and interested, all in one breath. He let out a deep breath, but it did nothing to unclench his jaw.

“I am Harry James Potter,” Harry whispered, finding his voice when Draco froze and his back stiffened. “I am the son of Lily and James, who fucking laid down their lives to protect me. I am the one person an evil fucker couldn’t kill, but he took so much of my life that sometimes I feel it was an equal exchange.” At this, Malfoy turned around and met his eyes.


“I…” Harry faltered over his next statement, but he was all in now. Draco asked for it. Harry never did anything half-arsed. “I was raised by my aunt and uncle, who kept me locked in a cupboard under the stairs, told me I was a freak, and made me work to serve them hand and foot without once offering a single scrap of affection. “


“Potter…stop…I…” Draco started, but Harry just lifted his hand.


“You should know me,” Harry explained. “I am the best friend of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, who risked everything to walk through fire with me. I am Sirius Black’s Godson and Teddy Lupin’s godfather. I am the fucking man who walked into a forest knowing he was going to be murdered and did it anyway because it’s the price you fucking pay to make everything right!” Harry was shouting now, clenching his fists at his sides. Draco looked mildly frightened.


“Now? Well, now I’m just Harry. And I have no idea what that means anymore, but I definitely know who the fuck I am. And I would never fucking do that to anyone,” Harry finished, breathing heavily.


Malfoy met Harry's eyes, his wide, gray eyes unblinking as Harry's breathing calmed. Then, he smirked, and Harry could feel his stomach tighten slightly at the expression. The urge to kiss Malfoy in that moment was both overwhelming and confusing.


"Er," Malfoy started. And Harry felt himself laugh lightly in the back of his throat, immediately clamping his hand over his mouth. When Malfoy looked up at him and smiled, a large, genuine smile, Harry felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. "So, would you like a drink?"


"Only if you have something strong," Harry laughed awkwardly. Malfoy nodded and snapped his fingers, summoning and elf and asking him for a bottle of Ogden's and two glasses.


They spent the rest of afternoon drinking and talking about their plans for the future. It was the first time Harry had actually expressed a desire to move on from the past few years of strife. He wanted to be an Auror, eventually, but right now he just needed a break. Malfoy listened intently, nodding in understanding, and Harry felt himself slowly let go of all the fear and doubt that had plagued him for so long. When Malfoy began to talk about getting a Potions apprenticeship, Harry was on board.


He left Malfoy Manor with promises to return to take tea with Narcissa, and marveling at how surreal and satisfying his day was.




When the day of Draco Malfoy's trial came, two weeks after Potter showed up on his doorstep, Draco didn't carry any hope. Sure, Potter assured him he would testify, and Draco was positive that Potter's words would release his mother, but Draco also knew how the world saw him. He didn't bother to go out any longer, as he couldn't take people spitting on him, sending curses at him, and even throwing large objects at him. He was beyond even the help of the savior.


He gathered in the waiting area outside of courtroom 3, his hand clasping his mother's as she cried with relief. Potter had ensured that Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't see a day in Azkaban, and Draco knew he could handle anything as long as she was alright. He heard the ten minute warning for his trial, and began to dust himself off. He resolved to walk to Azkaban with dignity.

"Malfoy!" Potter called his name. Draco schooled his features into something calm and closed off before rising to meet him. "Don't worry, okay?"


"I'm not," Draco replied. He wasn't worried. He was sure. He knew he'd go to prison, and he just had to survive.


"Good," Potter smiled at him, and Draco felt his heart race.


"Those waiting to go into Courtroom three, please enter! The trial starts in five minutes," the clerk called out, a pen and parchment in his hand. The press, spectators, and his mother filed in. She kissed him on the cheek and patted his shoulder. Draco looked at the Auror Guards, readying their wands, and he sighed.


Suddenly, the entryway was empty save for him, Potter, and two guards watching Draco. Potter looked up at him, and Draco felt his warm, calloused hand close over his. The contact sent a spark through Draco like he had never felt before. Someone called the two minute warning and Draco panicked.


He grabbed the front of Potter's robes, dragged him around the corner, and pressed his lips to Potter's before he could reconsider. He wanted one last chance, one last feeling before years of darkness. He needed to remember something good. Potter's lips would last a lifetime in his mind.


When Potter opened his mouth and wound his hands in Draco's hair, Draco was undone. His knees were weak and his body was on fire. He pressed his tongue into Potter's hot mouth and moaned. He gripped Potter's shoulders hard, postponing the inevitable for as long as he could.

Draco pulled away when the guards came around the corner to take him into the courtroom. As he walked toward his fate, he heard Potter calling his name...his given name...and he closed his eyes to remember the sound forever.




"It is the decision of this Wizengamot, on the day of September 3, 1997, that Draco Malfoy be sentenced to 2 years probation. He will report to his probation officer once a month and he will work down his debt to society through community involvement." The Chief Warlock slammed down his gavel to deafening silence.


Someone shouted "This is an insult!" and soon others joined in with angry shouts. Draco was escorted out of the courtroom and out to the entrance of the Ministry as items and curses began flying at his head.


"You're going to die by my hands if the Ministry won't do their damned job!" A large, angry looking wizard got right in Draco's face. If the guards hadn't been there, Draco knew he would have been killed instantly. He was never going to be able to walk down a street again without the fear that someone would try to take his life.


"Draco!" Potter shouted from somewhere behind him. "You lot clear out right now!" Potter was fighting his way through the crowd, and soon Draco could see the messy thatch of black hair making its way toward him.


When Potter got close enough, his deep green eyes bored into Draco's with sympathy and confusion. Draco couldn't bear that look of tenderness that was etched into the lines of his face. He didn't deserve that. He deserved the rotten fruit being thrown at him more than that look on Potter's face.


He met Harry Potter's eyes one last time, for one last moment, and then Apparated away as Potter shouted his name.



I have travelled past your window many times,

I find your face too hard to define,

I can't touch you hollow thing,





2 years later


Dudley Dursley finished the obstacle course in record time, and when he got to the end, his friends and classmates were cheering him on. He had never been more proud of something in his entire life. He had joined a team of blokes training to become Police Officers, and the obstacle course was their final goal. Passing this meant he was sure to pass the fitness test in a few weeks.


"Great job, Dursley!" the trainer said.


"Excellent job, Diddyums! Let's go get a pint to celebrate before we all collapse on ourselves," Piers, his best mate and a wiry little bloke, put his arm around Dudley's sweaty shoulders and guided him toward the lockers.


"I can't believe I'm actually going to do this," Piers said under a spray of hot water. "Who'd have thought you and me, a couple of men of the law?"


"You might be on your own here, mate. I still have to pass the written exam. You get no offers for appointments if you don't do well on your exams," Dudley answered, lathering his hair with shampoo. He was terrified that after all his training, after everything he risked, he'd fail it because he was too thick to get the material.


"You'll be fine," Piers answered. He didn't sound so certain.


Dudley gave up his promising boxing career and the approval of his parents to become an officer. His mother and father barely talked to him anymore. Sure, they left him the house to move out into the country farther, but they were close enough to call or stop by. They never did. Whenever his mother called him, she would cluck her tongue at his chosen career and make snide comments about his father's business going belly-up without someone to run it.


Dudley didn't care. They could rot. He spent his entire childhood entitled, spoiled, and generally unkind. He felt like he needed to do something immensely good for the rest of his life to make up for all the terrible things he’d done in his youth. Dudley thought about his cousin Harry again and shook his head.


Even after all of the abuse that Harry suffered at the hands of him and his family, he and Harry were talking. Not very much, but a few letters delivered by owls and a couple of afternoon teas had gone a long way in making Dudley feel less like garbage and making him feel like he still had family that gave a fuck.


"Wanna go to the pub or not, you great slow oaf!" Piers shouted from his locker. Dudley quickly rinsed the soap out of his hair and rushed to get dressed. He needed a drink to forget about how abysmally he was going to fail in two weeks when his test was placed in front of him. He had no idea why he didn't just give up now. Maybe it was because for once in his life, Dudley Dursley had something to prove.


After an evening of getting thoroughly pissed, being denied by every single bird he approached, and throwing up in the pub's loo, Dudley was ready to throw in the towel. Luckily, he now owned the house in Little Whinging, so he didn't have to walk very far or call a lorrie. He set about to walk the short distance to his home, hoping the cool night air would sober him up a bit.


As he cut across an alley (so disgustingly clean in the suburbs), he saw a lump of clothing off to one side near the bins of the curry place. It was quiet there, after all it was after 11 pm, and Dudley worried that someone had dumped a dead animal and just left it there to stink up the place. At the thought that the curry must be masking the smell, Dudley had to keep himself from letting loose the remaining contents of his stomach.


He nearly screamed like a girl when the lump in question coughed and moaned, in a distinctly human way. When his shock wore off, he rushed over to see if the figure needed help. Maybe if he was a bum Dudley could get him some hot soup before he turned in for the night. He was always looking for a way to earn some extra karma points.


"Hey mate, you alright?" Dudley asked, thankful his words weren't slurring. When the stranger didn't answer he walked closer. He wasn't necessarily fearful for his safety. After all, unless the person had come across a pistol, he could pretty much handle anything.


"Please go," the voice said. The stranger sounded young, vocal chords not bogged down by years of trials. There was a tremor in his voice though that made Dudley's heart clench. He used to hear that when he was little, when Harry thought no one was listening to him.


"I can help you. I can call someone," Dudley offered, walking slowly toward him, trying not to scare him.


"Don't!" The voice suddenly shouted. "They'll just find me. I need to hide."


"I can hide you," Dudley responded. Maybe it was the beer talking, but Dudley felt compelled to help in any way he could. It wasn’t like he owned many nice things, and he was confident this little bloke couldn't overpower his hulking figure. What did he really have to lose? He tried to move closer.


“Don’t hurt me, please,” the young man whimpered pathetically and Dudley felt a surge of empathy so thick that he had to swallow before he spoke again.


“You can trust me, mate,” Dudley whispered.


“Don’t let them find me,” he breathed out, and then turned his head toward Dudley.


He had really light blond hair, though it was currently crusted with blood. His face was swollen and bruised, though Dudley could see no visible breaks. His lip was cut badly and gushing blood. Dudley pulled out a clean handkerchief and dabbed the other man’s face. He hissed in pain, and Dudley noticed tear tracks running down his cheeks.


“Who did this?” Dudley whispered.


“I don’t know,” he answered, but Dudley knew he was lying. He wasn’t even looking at him.


“Can you walk?”


“They hurt my leg, I don’t know what’s wrong with it, but the pain,” the man whimpered again and Dudley began to roll up his pant legs.


Dudley almost vomited again at the sight of boils and blisters rising up on the other’s mans skin, making his leg look red and angry. “It looks like they poured acid on it or something!”


“I- I don’t know,” the man cried. Resolved to do whatever he could, Dudley stood up and bent to lift the thin stranger.


“You’re going to carry me?” he said incredulously, the tremble leaving his voice.


“I’m strong enough, and I’m only three blocks from here.” Dudley explained, but the other man didn’t move. “Just put your arms around my neck.”


It only took a moment’s hesitation before the injured man lifted up his hands and wrapped them around Dudley’s neck. Dudley lifted him like he weighed next to nothing, eternally grateful for the strength that got him through boxing, his police trials, and now this inexplicable turn of events. He made the walk back home in mere minutes before walking the stranger up the stairs and sitting him on the spare bed.


There was an intensely awkward silence that followed as Dudley tried to figure out what the fuck he was going to do, when it occurred to him he had a first aid kit down in the kitchen. “Ummm, I’m going to go get some stuff to take care of your burn and stuff. Could you, ummmm, y’know, take off your trousers so I can get to your leg. I’ll give you some of my cousin’s old shorts when I come back.”


When Dudley came back up, the stranger looked completely starkers under the thin, worn out blankets of Harry’s old bed. Dudley began to feel a swelling of rage at the angry bruises all over the man’s torso. He couldn’t imagine that he did something to deserve violent retaliation like that. Even though he just met the bloke, he seemed so…lost. He handed the blonde man some ice packs to place over the worst spots as well as some painkillers.


“What are these?” the man asked, sighing as he put the ice on his shoulder and face.


“Just some ibuprofen for the swelling at the pain.” Dudley said, rubbing some burn gel over the man’s leg. He cried out in pain, but let Dudley continue lathering on the substance. As an afterthought, Dudley felt the man’s head to check for fever. He worried that leg wound may have been infected. The stranger quickly flinched back.


“I’m sorry…I just don’t know you. I don’t know here. I’m a bit…jumpy,” he explained, leaning his head forward. There was no fever.


“Understandable. What’s your name?” Dudley asked, laughing slightly at himself for not finding out sooner.


“Draco,” he answered.


“You can make up a better name than that! That’s bloody barmy!” he chuckled. When the stranger looked livid, Dudley realized quickly he wasn’t lying.


“Well, what’s your name?” he asked, turning up his nose slightly. It was a shockingly aristocratic gesture for someone he found beaten half to death in an alley.


“Dudley,” he responded, suddenly feeling ridiculous. When Draco sputtered a bit, Dudley smiled.


Dudley rummaged through some of Harry’s leftover things, which were really his leftover things, and found shorts and a long sleeved tee shirt that he thought might fit Draco. He tossed them over and then offered to make some dinner while Draco changed. Draco nodded eagerly at the prospect of food.


“Your cousin won’t mind?” he asked.


“Oh, he’s not lived here for years. Only came back in the summers, then not at all.” Dudley explained as he bustled down to the kitchen to put together a pot of stew and some rolls on a tray.




You plagued my mind,

I can never go outside,

I will never go back to being blind.


Dudley watched Draco’s sleeping form, tossing endlessly from fever, puzzled as to why his injuries weren’t healing. Sure, the burn was bad, but Draco had been there for nearly a week and he seemed to only be getting worse. He now ran fevers every single night and couldn’t leave the bed save to use the bathroom. Even that became an ordeal. Dudley feared his impromptu patient was going to die soon.


Every time he mentioned taking Draco into a hospital, the man would panic so fiercely that Dudley thought he would reopen the blisters on his legs. He resolved that if the man remained unconscious for any long period of time, then he’d just take him away while he wasn’t alert. Unfortunately, sleep was no blessing for Draco. Dudley watched from the doorway as the man tossed and turned again the middle of the night, crying out in terror at intervals, and sobbing into his sheets at other times.


Draco woke up and met Dudley’s eyes, his own yellow tinged and clouded with fear. Dudley rushed over to him with some fresh tea, hoping the other man would at least be able to keep something in his stomach. It had been the same routine for the past six nights, and Dudley had taken to bringing his study material into Harry’s old room just to watch over Draco. He was glad he didn’t have a real job yet, or he’d be dead on his feet.


Once Draco saw that Dudley had been studying, he immediately spent his lucid time dictating Dudley’s study habits from his bed. Dudley was happy to receive Draco’s help, who proved to be a remarkably smart guy, and he was ready to study again when Draco woke up from his nightmare. However, the injured man was sobbing uncontrollably, and Dudley felt quite out of his element. He decided to sit carefully on the side of Draco’s bed and try to offer some semblance of comfort.


“I deserved this! I’m going to die and it’s what I fucking deserve!” Draco sobbed, Dudley pulled him carefully against his chest.


“No one deserves this,” Dudley answered.


“You don’t understand. I was on the wrong side! I did terrible things. They made me do terrible things and I did nothing to stop them!” Draco explained, his fever crazed eyes nearly bulging out of his head. Dudley handed him a few Tylenol to try to cool his temperature.


“How old are you, Draco?”


“I’m nineteen.”


“Then how the fuck to you expect to be held accountable?” Dudley explained. “It sounds like you were a child when you did these things…whatever they are.”


“I had a choice.” Draco whispered. “You aren’t a part of my world, you don’t understand.”


“Listen, I did some really shitty things when I was a kid. And when I wasn’t being a dick, I was letting my parents be dicks. I spend so much fucking time just making up for it now, but that’s the point!” Dudley explained suddenly. “We’ve got time! We don’t have to be shitty blokes anymore! That’s why I want to be a cop.”


“You are a good person, Dudley. You took in a stranger you didn’t know and you’re taking care of him,” Draco explained. “I’ve hurt people. I’ve…” Draco swallowed hard and didn’t finish his sentence.


“My cousin? The one who’s room you’re in? My parents treated him horribly and I said nothing. I usually just made it worse,” Dudley explained, shaking his head.


“That’s it? You’re a regular fucking angel,” Draco snorted bitterly.


“No! His parents died and he was left with my mum. My parents made him work as a slave in this house. They kept him locked in that cupboard under the stairs, sometimes for days. They withheld food. Made him wear my hand me down clothes that were sizes too big. They hit him, my dad wailing on him over the worst things. And they told all the teachers he was a liar so no one ever fucking helped him. And do you know what I did? I fucking laughed. I fucking hit him at school. I tortured him just as much as they did. He was a fucking child, Draco!” Dudley said, his eyes watering.


“Locked in a cupboard?” Draco asked, suddenly sounding distant. He seemed lost in thought for a second before he shook his head and turned back to him. “What happened to him?”


“He’s got his own life. He left for school when he was little and never really looked back. I can’t believe he even still talks to me. The fucking bruises my father left him…” Dudley clenched his fist.


“It looks like we both stood by and let terrible things happen.” Draco said softly.


“But I’m trying, now. I’m trying to do the right thing. Are you?” Dudley asked, handing Draco another ice pack.


“I haven’t really had the chance. After…um…things happened, I was sort of put into protective custody. I was sentenced to probation, but they had to put me in hiding to keep me safe. Someone recognized me last week,” Draco explained. Dudley began to wonder if there was some kind of mafia presence in his area he wasn’t aware of. The thought of his charge engaging in high-crimes and machine gun warfare was hilarious indeed.


“Regardless, Draco, you didn’t deserve this, and I feel like you’re a good person,” Dudley said quietly, blushing.


“Listen, I’m gay, but I’m pretty sure you aren’t,” Draco said. Dudley looked up at him in shock only to find him smirking.


“Barmy sod,” Dudley smiled and tossed him a police manual.





I have wondered what you're doing every day since last I asked.

Are your cheeks hollow? I don't like your eyes dark



Everything changed on the seventh night Draco was in Dudley’s house. He fell asleep in the chair next to Draco’s bed only to be wakened by a terrible crash. Draco had fallen out of the bed and against the end table. He was convulsing uncontrollably on the floor. Dudley’s stomach fell and he lifted up his mobile to call an ambulance.


When he turned around to make sure Draco wasn’t hitting his head too hard, he saw on the man’s left arm a strange tattoo. His shirt had ridden up to reveal a snake twisting around a skull. A sudden rush of familiarity came to him, and Dudley was taken back to when Harry was spending his last day at his home.


“Dudley, if you ever see this marking, run as fast as you can,” Harry had said, handing him a crude drawing.


Dudley fell to the floor and put Draco’s head in his lap as the shaking subsided. Draco was a wizard, one of the wizards that fought against Harry. But he was positive Draco wasn’t a bad person. He had a sense and he didn’t want to get Draco in trouble. However, looking down at Draco’s worryingly still body, Dudley felt like he had no choice. He lifted up his mobile and dialed Harry’s number.


“Mmmmm?” A sleepy voice answered the other line.




“Dudley? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Harry asked, his voice suddenly clearing.


“I need you to come to Privet Drive. There’s…someone’s hurt. Someone like you,” Dudley explained. He didn’t want to say Draco’s name. He had no idea what kind of criminal he was in Harry’s world, but Dudley wanted to be able to protect Draco if he needed to.


“I’m coming,” Harry said, hanging up.


It took less than one minute for Harry to come bursting through the door. Dudley knew it was magic somehow, but he was no less shocked. Harry had on his wizard copper uniform thingy, though underneath it looked like he was still wearing pajamas. Dudley led Harry upstairs without a word, but paused at the door.


“Harry, I know he’s supposed to be a bad guy, but I don’t think he is. And he’s hurt really badly. Don’t…don’t take him to jail or hurt him or anything like that,” Dudley said, his face turning red.


“Dudley, who-“ But Harry was cut off when Dudley opened the door to show Draco lying unconscious on the bed, uncovered, his wound seeping something horrible on his leg. “Draco,” Harry whispered, rushing to the bed.


Dudley stood close behind Harry, worried he would have to brain his cousin if he hurt Draco. But Harry let out something like a pained cry and fell to his knees next to the bed. He lifted a shaky hand and ran his wand over Draco’s body, making colored lights rise over the more dangerous looking injuries. Harry let out a groan and gripped his hair.


“Harry, mate? What’s wrong?” Dudley asked, his heart racing.


“I need a Healer right now. He’s got a bad curse and it’s fucking rotting his leg off!” Harry stood up and began to pace back and forth in his old bedroom. Suddenly, he stopped, lifted his wand, and a silvery blue stag came out of the end and bounded around him. Harry seemed to visibly calm.


“That’s interesting,” Dudley spoke, feeling that warmth of the stag radiate right into his bones.


“I need you to tell Audrey Weasley that I need her here. Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey,” Harry commanded his animal, and it disappeared into the wall. Dudley was struck with recognition.


“I remember that thing!” Dudley shouted, proud of himself.


“It’s a Patronus. I’m bringing a Healer in. How long has he been here?” Harry asked, sitting on Draco’s bed, his hands hovering over the other man as though he was afraid to touch him.


“A week. I found him like this in an alley behind the pub. He begged me to keep him hidden…so I just did,” Dudley explained, suddenly feeling foolish for keeping someone grievously injured in his spare room.


“It’s just as well you did,” Harry murmured. He brushed a lock of Draco’s blond hair back with so much tenderness, Dudley was a little taken back. “Who did this to you, Draco?” Harry whispered, pain in his voice.


“You don’t know either?” Dudley asked. “Draco says he doesn’t remember.”


“He probably does, but he’s probably frightened.” Harry explained, clenching his fists. “He’s got a probation officer and he’s in protective custody. I haven’t seen or heard a thing about him in two years! Someone was supposed to be protecting him.”


“Why did Draco need protecting? I thought he was the bad guy,” Dudley asked, worried that someone was going to burst into his house at any minute to kill Draco.


“He was given a very light sentence at this trial, with no prison time. Witches and wizards on both sides were not very happy. He was getting so many death threats and attempts on his life that he couldn’t complete the work order of his sentence. He stayed in hiding with the help of our Ministry,” Harry explained, taking a deep breath and holding Draco’s limp hand.


“Harry?” A woman’s voice sounded up the stairs. Dudley went to fetch her. She was tall and curvy, with a generous chest. She had brown hair down to her shoulders and thick glasses. She was wearing a white robe over her pajamas. Dudley checked for a wedding ring, but she had one. Hey, it never hurts to look.


“He was attacked a week ago. He has a curse on his leg. He is having convulsions, and I think he’s been in and out of fever,” Harry explained, standing up and clenching his shaky hands in front of him.


“Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you call sooner,” The Healer said, waving her wand over Draco’s resting form.


“I just found out,” Harry said, his voice a little shaky. “He’s been in protective custody.”


“He asked me to hide him! I didn’t even know he was a wizard till I saw that tattoo thingy,” Dudley answered, feeling the need to defend himself.


“He’s has a fever so long, I’m worried about some swelling around his brain,” she explained, pressing her wand to his temple.


“He’s been helping me study. This is the first time he’s actually been unconscious,” Dudley said, trying to offer Harry comforting words as the wizard’s jaw looked about ready to snap.


“He could still be okay. If I can get his fever down, make sure there’s no adverse swelling, and get that curse off of his leg…” Audrey began muttering incantations even as her sentence trailed off.


“Please Audrey,” Harry moaned. Dudley could hear the other wizard’s heart breaking.


“Was he your friend?” Dudley asked. He wanted to put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, but apart from a few firm handshakes, they had never really had any physical contact.


“Not really,” Harry answered cryptically.


“I can do this,” she said finally. “I’m out of dittany though. I need to remove the curse heal the open wounds, and then douse the lot with dittany. I also need to wake him up and make sure his brain is functioning normally.”


“Wake him?” Harry’s whole body froze. “I probably shouldn’t…I need to…There’s dittany at my house. I’ll pop out and get it. I need to send a message to his probation officer anyway. If I go and see him in person, I might kill him.” Harry bolted down the stairs without so much as a look back.


“Well, Dudley. Would you like to hold Draco’s hand while I wake him up?” Audrey asked. Dudley nodded and sat down on the bed.





I need shine, I need shine, I need shine,

Step away from my light, I need shine,



Draco opened his eyes to find that the persistent pain pounding against his temples had eased and he could see clearly again. At first he thought the Muggle tablets Dudley was shoving down his throat were finally working, but then he heard other voices in the room and his heart began to race. He bolted up and scrambled back on the bed, causing the pain in his leg to nearly cripple him.


“Draco, mate, you’re okay. I had to get some help,” Dudley said, trying to get Draco to lie down. When he saw the woman in the room wave her wand over him, he panicked again.


“She’ll…she’s….the others they….” Draco couldn’t find his words. No matter how well he hid, someone would find him. He needed to get away from the magical community completely.


His probation ended two weeks ago. He used some seed money from his family’s dwindling fortune to purchase a small flat in Surrey, and set about trying to find a job for his new Muggle life. He wasn’t safe in the wizarding world, and he didn’t belong there any longer. He cut all ties and tried to build a life, only to be beaten nearly to death by wizards just one week ago.

Draco was ready to give up. Now that he had been found again, it was only a matter of time before someone with a grudge was tipped off and he was attacked. Maybe he could move to France with his mother and live in her basement. He didn’t want to draw attention and danger to her, though.


He thought he was finally safe in the relatively nondescript neighborhood, but when some nameless strangers with wands shouted his name, Draco knew he’d never be free of it.


“Do you know who did this, Draco?” Dudley asked breaking him out of his reverie.


“I didn’t know them. I could recognize their faces, but I had no idea who did it.” Draco answered quietly.


“Well Harry’s an Auror, perhaps we can get a Pensieve and sort this out,” Audrey said, absently running her wand over Draco’s leg as he saw the boils and blisters disappear. Suddenly, his heart stopped.


Draco remembered Harry once telling him about his childhood on that fateful day when his wand was returned. As the cogs and wheels in Draco’s mind were put in motion, he remembered Dudley’s tales about his cousin which lined up perfectly with Harry’s story. Finally, the last piece was in place, and Draco realized that Dudley’s cousin as not only a wizard, he was Harry Potter. Draco wondered idly if his clothes still smelled like Potter even as his body began to go cold with fear.


“What the FUCK do you mean you just let him go!?” Draco jumped as Potter’s familiar but booming voice shook the walls of the home. Dudley and the Healer jumped as well.


“His probation was over!” Draco recognized his Auror, Wilks, answering to Potter in a slightly trembling voice.


“Oh so the death threats meant nothing after he paid his debt. You just dropped him off and said ‘Fuck you very much’?” Potter continued to shout.


“He’s just a bloody Death Eater, Potter. Calm your tits,” Wilks replied. Draco saw Dudley and Audrey flinch. His Probation Auror had certainly stepped in it.


“He’s a fucking human! He was almost killed. You can get the fuck out of this house and dread Monday all weekend,” Potter screamed, and the front door to Dudley’s house slammed so hard that Draco thought the windows would break. Draco’s entire body was shaking.


“I have to go…now. I just…I have to get out of here. Potter can’t…he won’t…” Draco stumbled over his words as he fought to get out of his covers and over to his shoes in the corner.


“Draco! Your leg is not healed! We haven’t gotten the dittany yet. If you put weight on it, I can’t imagine the pain,” Audrey said, putting her hand on Draco’s shoulder. He was beyond reason, however. Any pain was better than facing Potter and his bitter judgment, his rejection, or worse his pity.


He stood on his feet, and as soon as he put any weight on his leg, the pain through his body was like he was being burned from the inside out. The bones in his legs felt like they were reduced to ash. And someone seemed to be taking a knife to his injury. Draco screamed something feral from deep within his chest, then everything went dark.




When Harry heard Draco’s pained scream, followed by the loud crash, his rage was forgotten. He may have literally flown up the stairs to his old bedroom to find Dudley and Audrey trying put an unconscious Draco back up onto the bed. He had blood dripping from his head and Harry could feel the blood drain from his own face at the sight.


“What happened?” Harry said, resisting the urge to reach out to Malfoy. He still couldn’t believe that after years of wondering whatever became of him, and nights dreaming about that one soul-crushing kiss, he was looking at the other wizard in the flesh.


“He had a bit of a fit,” Dudley said cryptically. “Audrey spilled the beans about who my wizard cousin was and suddenly Draco wanted nothing more than to leave.”


It hurt, but it didn’t surprise Harry in the slightest. Malfoy didn’t want anything to do with him. That kiss must have been a fluke, especially considering the way he disappeared without even looking back. He’d concluded long ago that Malfoy was desperate and scared. The Slytherin had no idea how deeply Harry’s feelings went. And with any luck, Harry would never be embarrassed by Malfoy finding out.


“Yes, well. Here’s the dittany. I should go. I think I’m scaring the poor bloke,” Harry said, buttoning up his robes and plastering a big false smile across his face. It was pretty bad that even Dudley seemed skeptical. “This house is under a pretty strong Fidelius charm. When Malfoy finds his own house, I’ll put another one up. I’ll have someone check up every now and then to make sure Malfoy is safe.”


“Harry?” Dudley asked just as Harry was leaving. Harry froze but didn’t look back. “What’s really going on here?”


“Nothing worth mentioning,” Harry answered sadly, clenching his fists. “Call me when I need to cast the charm.” Harry walked out of his childhood home as fast as his feet could take him.




One week later, Harry stood on the stoop of a cozy little townhouse in Plymouth, hoping against anything that the ordeal would go as quickly as possible so that he could get out of Draco Malfoy’s house, and his life before he buggered it all up by grabbing the Slytherin and kissing him against his will. When the door swung open to reveal a much-restored Malfoy dressed in Muggle jeans and a tight fitting tee shirt, Harry questioned the sanity of the fates before crossing the threshold.


“What? No housewarming gift?” Malfoy asked, arching his eyebrows in a way that made Harry want to bite his lips.


“I…I didn’t. Was I supposed to? Should I-“ Harry was stuttering when Malfoy lifted a hand to stop the word-vomit. Harry looked up to find that same warm smile on his face that he saw that day at the manor. There was something in that look that Harry couldn’t place, though he desperately wanted to.


“I was kidding, Potter,” Malfoy said, inviting him in.


“You look well,” Harry commented, hoping it wasn’t too late to return to small talk.


“I’m feeling better,” Malfoy said quietly. “Can I get you a drink?”


“Got anything strong?” Harry said, his face turning red.


“Why do you always feel the need to get drunk around me?” Malfoy asked. Harry nearly swallowed his tongue. Malfoy was smirking, but he blushed as well. Harry was beginning to think the entire situation was surreal.


“Maybe I just have a drinking problem,” Harry replied. ‘Or a Malfoy Problem,’ he thought.


“I doubt that. You’re far too saint-like and innocent,” Malfoy said, pouring him two fingers of Ogden’s Finest.


“I’m not innocent!” Harry argued, though Malfoy was smiling. Again, the warm smile across his face made Harry’s entire body feel like it was on fire. Malfoy raised his tiny glass to Harry’s in toast.


“To change,” Malfoy said, his eyes darting over Harry’s features to try to read him as their glasses clinked. The burn in Harry’s throat was just the distraction he needed.


“So Potter, are we going to do this?” Malfoy said, gesturing his home.


“Harry.” His name suddenly slipped out of his mouth.


“I’m sorry, what?”


“Call me Harry,” he explained, his feet bravely closing some of this distance between himself and Mal- Draco.


“Harry,” Malfoy whispered.


“Draco,” Harry said, swallowing heavily. Draco closed his eyes, as though trying to remember something, and bit his lip. Harry was about to come unraveled.


“Thank you for doing this, Harry,” Draco whispered, moving so he was standing nearly chest to chest to Harry. “Yet again.”


“I’d do it every day if I had to,” Harry whispered. Their faces were just centimeters apart.


“Are we going to do this Secret Keeper thing? I’ve got patients!” Audrey called from the living room. Her sharp heels clicked against the hard wood floor as she walked into the foyer, brushing off her robes. Draco flew back as far as he could from Harry without looking ridiculous. And just like that, Harry was left once again with clenching fists that held on to absolutely nothing.





I am honest, no, not a shouter,

I am reformed, reborn and forgiven.

And you've been busy but you've missed me

And I've plagued your mind.

You will never go outside,

You will never go back to being blind.



Draco swatted Pansy on the bum as she reapplied her bright red lipstick for what felt like the millionth time that evening. She just gave him a nasty glare and went about putting some rouge on her cheeks. It had been a week since Draco had moved into his Plymouth flat, and a week since he was reunited with his best friend after two years of silence, but already he was feeling more comfortable and more himself.


Well, except for the one gigantic albino hippogriff that had taken up residence in his living room: Harry Potter. And his lips. And his smile. And his damned sense of justice. Draco wanted him so badly it hurt. But he also knew that Harry couldn’t possibly want him, and even if he did, Draco would wind up getting hurt. He doesn’t take pain well, and after everything, he decided to try to avoid pain at all costs. As long as he kept telling himself Harry Potter would only bring pain, and kept to his own little corner of England, nothing could hurt him.


“So why are you fucking going to Dudley's?” Draco muttered to himself.


“What’s that, dear?” Pansy asked, looking up from the magnifying mirror.


“It’s just a Muggle barbeque. I think you’re overdoing it,” Draco replied.


“I always overdo it,” Pansy answered, winking. “Who’s this Diddelly again?”


“It’s Dudley. He’s a friend I made,” Draco said. He wasn’t ready to tell Pansy how badly he was hurt. Nor was he ready to indicate that Dudley happened to be one of the few blood relatives Harry Potter had left. “He passed a test and now he’ll be a copper. Thought I’d congratulate him.”


“Why am I coming?” Pansy asked, suddenly looking bored.


“Because you like being the shiny coin in a pile of nifflers,” Draco sniffed.


“Let’s go,” Pansy said, grabbing her handbag.


They Apparated a block away and Pansy’s little nose was instantly turned up at the small, cookie cutter houses.


“Hey, he was there for me during…well…it wasn’t a good time,” Draco said, avoiding her eyes.


“I wish you’d tell me,” she whispered. “You were gone for two years. Let me just be there, love.”


“I promise I will. There’s something else,” Draco said, afraid to incur her rage, or worse her silence.


“Spit it out.”


“Dudley happens to be Harry Potter’s cousin,” Draco said, wincing slightly.


“Oh lovely! Will he be there? I haven’t seen him in weeks!” Pansy squealed.


“I know, Pansy, but he’s- wait…” Draco paused, realizing what Pansy just said.


“A lot has changed in two years, Draco. I know people were unkind to you, but Harry wanted to make sure that no one was doing that to me, Blaise, or even Greg really. He tracked me down and we’ve been having tea. He’s an okay bloke. Little bit of a prude, but oh well,” Pansy said, smiling. “When we go home tonight, though, you’re going to have to fill in a lot of unsaid words. And explain that little blush on your alabaster skin the moment you mentioned Potter’s name.”

Pansy trotted ahead of Draco, finding Dudley’s house by following the music and the cheers, and Draco was forced to make his entrance unnoticed as she managed to turn all the heads in the garden. Draco decided he was going to need a good, stiff drink if he was going to get through the evening and was directed to the whiskey in the kitchen.


Once he had his drink, he couldn’t resist wandering into the sitting room. He tried to picture Harry, trudging along after people who hated him, cleaning up their messes, and being beaten repeatedly, but the thought broke his heart. Draco ran his hands over the back of the settee and imagined that he was there with Harry, telling him it would get better, and promising that someday he would be so loved he wouldn’t be able to breathe.


He took another mouthful of whiskey and blamed his maudlin, sappy attitude on the drink. He suddenly felt stupid for waxing poetic about Saint Potter in his childhood home. He laughed at himself and turned to refill his drink, only to find himself face to face with the doorway to that fated cupboard. He ran his fingers over the edges of the door, closing his eyes. When he opened them, Harry was standing there looking at him curiously. Draco dropped his drink, and Harry immediately waved his wand and banished the mess.


“Sorry, I was just. I’m going to go get a refill,” Draco stuttered, but when Harry grabbed his wrist, he stopped and whirled around. “Unhand-“


Draco’s words caught in his throat at the look in Harry’s eyes. He couldn’t move for fear of breaking whatever delicate thread was holding him there. He wouldn’t dare back down either. He needed to prove he wasn’t weak, even in the face of intensity.


“Why did you disappear?” Harry said, his voice clear as a bell even as the air in the room seemed to weigh them down.


“Are you as slow as a troll, Potter? People wanted to kill me,” Draco said, though he still did not pull away.


“You kissed me. You kissed me to make me never forget, and then you vanished without a look back,” Harry had somehow managed to get closer without Draco noticing.


“I looked back,” Draco whispered.


In one swift intake of breath, Draco was pressed against the wall and Harry’s hot mouth was latched on to his. Harry had pinned Draco’s wrist behind him, and put his hand on Draco’s face in such a startling dichotomy of force and tenderness that Draco nearly lost his balance. He moved his lips against Harry’s in an attempt to focus on something lest he slip into nothing.

Harry’s body was flush against Draco’s, every hard plane warming Draco to the bones and making him desperate for more. He broke free of Harry’s grip, put his hands on each side of Harry’s face, running his thumbs over Harry’s cheeks as his tongue ran over Harry’s willing lips. Harry dove into the kiss with a rough moan in the back of his throat that sent electricity through Draco’s body.


When Draco felt Harry’s erection press against his own throbbing cock, he whimpered. Harry pulled back to meet Draco’s eyes, smoldering and shocked in the same expression. He kissed up Draco’s neck and pressed his lips against Draco’s ear.


“Is this okay? I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me,” Harry said, sounding so small even as his body was making Draco weak.


“I want everything to do with you,” Draco said. It was like someone had coated his tongue with Veritaserum.


“Fuck,” Harry moaned. “I’ve wanted you for so long. It’s more than this. Please know it’s more than this.”


“How can it not be?” Draco arched his neck as Harry’s sinful tongue moved over his adam’s apple. Draco’s hands found the door to the cupboard just as the screen door leading to the garden slammed shut. They immediately fell against the tiny bed in the corner, Draco straddling Harry to deepen the kiss. Harry pulled away to cast a locking spell and then froze, as if he just realized where he was.


“I don’t know if I can be in here,” Harry whispered, looking up at the low ceiling.


“This is exactly what this place needs,” Draco said, grabbing one of the wooden beams so he could grind his erection against Harry’s as they resumed their kiss. Draco groaned when Harry bit his lip on a particularly hard up thrust, and immediately began to pull at Harry’s shirt, desperate for skin on skin contact. Harry complied, and when his innocuous white tee had finally come off, his hair was even messier and his glasses askew. Draco took a moment to remove them before leaning down to pepper long, slow kisses along Harry’s shoulders and chest as the other wizard panted beneath him.


Draco began to unbutton his own shirt, even as he continued, moving his mouth over Harry’s nipples. He reveled in the cry that erupted when he dragged his teeth over the tender skin. Harry’s body tasted like perfection under Draco’s mouth, and he was determined to map every inch of it with his tongue. As his cock twitched and he began to ache for more, however, Draco knew he’d have to save the exploration for another time. He dared to hope there would be

another time.


“You feel so incredible, Draco,” Harry moaned, running his hands up and down Draco’s exposed torso.


“Never stop saying my name,” Draco murmured, desperate to extend what could be his only chance for as long as he could.


“Draco,” Harry whispered, kissing up Draco’s neck as the blond thrust down once more against Harry’s erection. “Why?”


“Because then it feels real,” Draco said, his suddenly clear voice echoing across the cramped and dusty walls. Harry took in a sharp breath and grabbed Draco’s face.


“This is real. This IS real,” Harry said, burying his face in Draco’s neck. “I waited two years for you, just to look at you again. The fact that I’m touching you, that reality burns through me.”


Draco kissed Harry again. Trying to pour every single word balancing on the tip of his tongue into Harry’s body. When Harry’s stumbling fingers unclasped Draco’s trousers and found his throbbing cock, Draco groaned, the sound rising from deep in his chest and gripped Harry’s shoulders hard. He lost himself in the feeling of Harry’s hand moving up and down his shaft until he was sure he was going to come.


“Harry please,” Draco moaned.


“What, Draco? Anything…” Harry whispered, lowering Draco’s pants and gripping his arse firmly.


“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” Draco whispered biting on Harry’s earlobe.


Harry’s body froze with tension for the briefest moment before he groaned out ‘yes’, pulling Draco hard against him. Harry’s hands immediately found the cleft of Draco’s arse and his fingers ran nimbly up his crack. Draco leaned against Harry’s touch and they both moaned.

Harry took his hands away and Draco whimpered at the loss of contact. When he heard Harry whisper the lubrication spell against his fingers, his hole clenched in anticipation. He wanted Harry to enter him so badly, that nothing else seemed to matter. He bit down on Harry’s shoulder just as one of Harry’s fingers breeched his tight entrance.


After Harry moved in and out of him for a few strokes, Draco needed more. Harry read him perfectly, and inserted two fingers into his body, angling them up until Draco was moving himself wantonly up and down, his legs wrapped tightly around Harry’s back. Suddenly, Harry stood up, and Draco watched mesmerized at Harry’s trembling hands as he removed the last of his clothing and stood naked before Draco in the tiny room.


“You…” Draco said, running his fingertips over Harry’s torso. He gripped Harry’s hips and pulled him closer. Draco wrapped his hand around Harry’s thick, leaking cock and wrapped his lips around the head.


“nnnnnnggg,” Harry said, his knees weakening. “If you do that, I’ll never last.”


Draco smirked and took Harry in deeper. When he felt Harry’s hands grip his hair, Draco’s body sang.


Draco stood up and he and Harry remained face to face for what felt like an eternity. Their eyes never leaving the other’s in an attempt to make sure, to know they wouldn’t be hurt, and to give up that last sliver of restraint they kept tight against their chests. Harry was the first to break through the wall, bringing his naked body against Draco’s and wrapping his arms tightly around the other man. His palms ran flat over every part of Draco that Harry could manage to touch, and seemed to melt off every ounce of fear, doubt, ugliness, and pain from Draco’s body. He sighed against Harry’s neck.


Harry laid Draco slow back against the worn, creaking bed. He did not notice the dust on the blankets, the scratch of the wool, or even the odor of mothballs. He only felt Harry, smelled Harry, and tasted him. Harry’s body hovered over him and ran his cock between Draco’s cheeks. The other wizard spread his legs to let Harry enter him.


Draco leaned up to kiss Harry as the dark-haired wizard began to enter him. He was trying to distract himself from the sting of his body being breached. Harry must have sensed the change in Draco, because he leaned back to meet Draco’s eyes.

“Tell me when it’s okay,” Harry said, stilling his body after he was fully sheathed. Harry’s hands traveled up and down Draco’s side and he whispered words of comfort in Draco’s ears as the pain eased.


“Harry,” Draco said, ready to sob with need.


And then, Harry’s body was sliding in and out of Draco, fast and smooth, as Harry kissed sloppily up and down Draco’s face. Every time Harry’s cock filled him, Draco bucked back, taking in as much as he could, and marveling at the drawn out cry Harry would utter at the feeling. It was so spectacular, that Draco could envision staying in that little cupboard forever.


“Fuck, Draco, I’m-“ Harry’s body twitched above him, and when Harry pulled his hips back and slammed into Draco hard, Draco met him, angling his hips. Harry’s hand closed around Draco’s cock as he came inside of Draco’s body, and Draco didn’t have to wait long before his own orgasm was exploding out over his chest.


They sat up; they couldn’t lay side by side on that bed. They sat still, next to each other, their arms touching, for a few long moments. The sound of their breath seemed to be the only sound in the entire world. When Harry didn’t speak for a long time, Draco could feel himself beginning to panic.


Then, Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and brought it up to his mouth.


“Let’s keep going forward,” he smiled, kissing Draco’s hand.




“Hey! You! Dougey!” someone shouted from his living room.


“Do you mean Dudley,” Dudley answered, slightly irritated. His irritation vanished, however, with one look at the beautiful, dark haired woman in the tight, black skirt and white blouse.


“Yeah, you, host man! Someone’s fornicating in your cupboard. I saw them go in,” she smiled back at him. When she finally met his eyes, her smile got so warm that Dudley could feel his stomach clench.


“Well…um…I don’t see why anyone would want to be in that awful little room,” Dudley cringed at the thought of someone like him trying to bed someone like her in that cupboard.


“Well, Harry and Draco are rather thin blokes,” she said, winking and drawing her wand.


“Bloody fucking hell,” Dudley muttered.


“Draco will not be happy when he comes out of here,” the woman said. As her wand swished in the air, bright pink hearts and glitter appeared until every inch of wall was covered in the most garish pink and red decorations imaginable. She even made a spell that told glitter when to fall on their heads as they came out.


“Beautiful and hilarious, can I get you a drink?” Dudley asked, mustering up his courage.


“Only if you plan on drinking all night,” the woman said. She licked her lips, walked, past Dudley, and then grabbed his hand to drag him back toward the whiskey.