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Prompt Number: 147
Gift for: jeannie81
Title: Kids on the Run
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, mentioned Ron/Hermione
Summary: When there’s a damsel in distress, Aurors Harry and Ron take the case…like always. But this time, it’s not so simple. For Harry, he finds more questions than answers.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Drug Addiction, Angsty and Fluffy and Flangsty. Mentions of Weasleys in a positive light.
Epilogue compliant? One could say that it’s partially compliant? But not where Harry and Draco are concerned.
Word Count: 14,500
Author's Notes: Thanks to C for the beta! Dear Prompter: I tried very hard to incorporate every single aspect of your prompt to make this extra tailored to you. I might not have put it the way you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway! It’s quite dark in some spots. Also, these lyrics are courtesy of The Tallest Man on Earth.


Harry Potter was proud to say that he could finally rival his best friend Ron in voracity of appetite. Their careers as aurors had left them permanently peckish from expending so much energy, and now Harry could dig into his midday meal with as much gusto as Ron. Though, he would note, with a little more tact and cleanliness. Harry wiped the corners of his mouth as he watched Ron suck in another bite of greasy noodles from his Pad Thai.


“Man, I missed out on some awesome Muggle food growing up! Who would have known that spicy Chinese food was so delicious?” Ron said between bites.


“It’s Thai food, and I’m right there with ya, mate. Aunt Petunia’s cooking left much to be desired, and mine wasn’t much better,” Harry said, licking his fingers and picking up a spring roll.


“Please tell me there’s pudding,” Ron said, rummaging through the bag. There wasn’t, and his face took on an expression that Harry could only describe as petulant.


“Well, we do have some of Hermione’s birthday cake left at home. I’ll just think about that to get me through the day,” Ron said, patting his stomach. “You still coming over tomorrow night?”


“Of course I am! Where else would I be?” Harry said. He was at Ron and Hermione’s flat nearly every single Saturday night he didn’t have to work. They would usually end up watching a movie, playing cards and inevitably drinking too much Ogden’s.


“Oh I don’t know, pulling some fit…person…or something,” Ron said, looking as frank as you could look while sipping iced tea through a straw.


“You can say bloke, you know,” Harry said, rolling his eyes at Ron’s discomfort.


“I know, I know! I’m completely a hundred and ten percent supportive…it’s just weird,” Ron finished lamely. “I always thought you’d marry Ginny and be my brother for real!”


“Yes, well, so did I. But she fell in love with that keeper bloke, and I fell in love with the way his arse looks on a broom,” Harry said, loving the way Ron’s face colored at the mention of arses. “I’m still your mate.”


“And you’re a brother if not by marriage than by shared circumstance,” Ron smiled warmly. “I just wish you had someone. I know you’re walking down the aisle with Ginny at our wedding, but I’d like to think you had a date to share the dances with.”


Harry toyed with his napkin and avoided eye contact. In truth, he was terribly lonely. Being the third wheel to his best friends while everyone else was moving on with their lives was not ideal, to say the least. He always felt like he had a place with Ron and Hermione, but they had something he couldn’t share in, and didn’t want to either. He wanted to go out, pull a bloke, or even find one to wake up with, but his fame prevented anything real. He was so worried about someone using him, humiliating him to the papers, or worse, not really wanting him for him, that he gave up before he even started. Besides Ginny, Harry had never even kissed anyone, let alone got far enough to know what he really wanted.


“I know it’s hard, what with being Harry Potter and all, but-“


Ron stopped mid-sentence as their office door slammed open. Harry drew his wand as Ron veritably leapt over the desk, papers flying everywhere. Fleur was standing there, her arms wrapped around her chest, and tears cascading down her face. Harry’s heart began to race.


“Fleur! What is it? Is it Bill? Victoire? The baby? Mum?” Ron’s hands were shaking as he put them on Fleur’s shoulders.


“Non! It is my sister. She…she disappeared and no one will help find her!” Fleur said, her sobs filling their office. Harry closed the door and cast a silencing spell as Ron led her to Harry’s vacated chair.


“Start from the beginning, love.” Ron said gently.


“She and my muzzer were shopping in Paris. Muzzer turned around to look at a hat, and when she looked back, Gabrielle was gone!” Fleur said, sobbing again. “Beel has come home and says he can go to Paris, but the Parisian Ministry will not help us or even file a report as she is not under age. She has only been missing for one day, but I know my sister. She would not have just disappeared like zis.”


Harry and Ron looked at each other gravely. Fleur was right. They had gotten to know Gabrielle very well, and this was not typical behavior for the proper French witch. She was engaging, loyal, and very happy. She would not have turned her back on her family and in such an astonishing way without leaving notice. Harry knew that their workload was light. Ron had one case and Harry didn’t have any at the moment. They were spending their free time at work running drills and training. They could spare some time to go to Paris and find Gabrielle, even if neither Ministry wanted to cooperate.


“We’ll do this, Fleur,” Ron said. “We’ll go to Paris and we’ll look for her. You stay here and take care of that new little boy. We’ll leave as soon as we can get clearance.”


“We’ll need a statement from your mother, and every single detail she can remember. Can you get us a memory to view?” Harry said, picking up a pen and paper to take down Mrs. Delacour’s contact information.


“No need,” Fleur said, her lips still quivering. She pulled out a vial filled with wispy white tendrils and handed it to Harry.




Harry got clearance to do an international wand search while Ron went home to pack and say goodbye to Hermione. He found Gabrielle’s magical signature in the French Ministry database, and made his way to the Auror’s mapping room. He took the map labeled ‘Europe’ and spread it out over a large table.


“Caeruleus Invenio” Harry said, the blue light coming from his wand and surrounding the map. He waived Gabrielle’s magical signature over the worn parchment and her white and gold sparkles fell across the latitude and longitude lines of the continent. Harry felt his hope die as he watched each and every glimmer fade away as it touched a country. He tried the same spell again over a map of the world and came up with nothing.


Either Gabrielle Delacour was dead, gravely injured, or someone was keeping her held in such a way that she could perform no spells. No witch goes that long without using magic willingly, Harry was sure of it. He clenched his fist remembering the petite and sunny young woman who joined in all of the raucous Weasley family gatherings without batting a well-appointed eye. Harry couldn’t stand the thought of anyone innocent being hurt, that is why he became an auror even after everything he went through. He heard Ron’s voice calling for him down the hall and rushed out to meet him.


The auror department couldn’t justify much expense on a ‘probable’ missing persons case. However, Harry and Ron were given the office location in the French ministry  of someone who would help them with resources they would need on their journey. Harry told Ron about the signature search as they were readying the floo, and he knew Ron felt exactly the same way he did. They were going to find Gabrielle no matter what it took.




Oh meet me when the morning fails on the fields of desire

Oh meet me when I lost my part in the choir of dusk

Where the promise to lead what is right

As we both know how fields will turn white


Draco Malfoy woke up with a splitting headache. He reached for his wand and shut his curtains, thankfully preventing the bright lights from assaulting his eyes any further. He knew it had to have been late afternoon if the sun was shining through his bedroom window, but that did not surprise him in the slightest. When you’re out all night trying to forget, usually the next day is wasted as well.


“I thought Paris had rainy autumns,” Draco spat toward his window, shuffling out of bed. It seemed like every step he took was more painful than the last and his body felt like it was ready to give up at any moment. He cried out when one of his knees almost gave way and he had to sit quickly on the edge of his bed and try to gain his composure again. He looked over at his empty snuffbox  where he kept his stash, and sighed audibly. He knew exactly what he needed.


At Hogwarts, there was a special class about how some potions can be addicting, and while they feel good, can cause long term damage to the body. Of course, when Severus Snape was telling you what you shouldn’t do, you automatically want to do the opposite. Draco loved that man like a father, but every word out of his mouth was like an iron weight pulling you against his own will. So after the special ‘don’t-do potions’ lesson, all of the Slytherins did potions.


Draco took a liking to one potion in particular, though it was hard to come by in their school days. If you take dried asphodel leaves and burn them, you can get a fragrant and calming incense for an evening salon. If you take those same leaves, soak them in a simple pepper-up potion, dry them again, and then just mix a very, very, tiny bit of nightshade in, you have a mixture that can make the user feel next to numb and never remember a single painful memory.


Needless to say, the 16 year old Draco was drawn to that particular potion.


Nightshade was a banned substance, and as a result, so was ‘Nightash’, and Draco barely came into contact with it during the years he needed it the most. But with a maniac living in his house and the constant threat of death hanging over his family, it wasn’t really easy for Draco to get away and find a black-market potions dealer. That’s why, when he met the substance again in a post-war Knockturn Alley, he gladly wallowed in it.


After Draco and his mother were given probation in the Deatheater Trials, thanks to bloody Potter, they were restricted to Wiltshire. This was for the best though, considering that every time they came across another wizard, anything from an insult to a sharp object was hurled at their heads. Ordering their supplies and only going out to tend to their gardens was the best way to keep safe. Eventually, Draco learned to make Nightash.


As their fortunes dwindled against the heavy fines they were charged, Draco started to smoke every night. He began to go to the one pub within their probation line, and drink  with the Muggles that occupied  the village nearest their home. At least the Muggles didn’t know him, so they didn’t try to hurt him. He would always wake up in his bed, with no idea how he got there and pain throughout his body.


He also woke with a thirst for Nightash, so intense he would be shaking by the end of the day. Some days, he almost didn’t make it until his mother went to sleep before he was rushing out of the manor and lighting up another carefully rolled concoction. His days were filled with painful memories and ghosts of his own actions. He could hear his mother quietly crying at regular intervals, and the image of his father locked in a cell was driving him mad. The only time he felt relief was when he had succumbed to the smoke.


When Lucius died, the Ministry lifted the remaining Malfoys’ probation early to tend to the funeral. They had served their year in relative safety while Lucius was slowly starved and beaten into madness. However, the Malfoys could find no location for a funeral, so he was buried by the house elves in a two-person ceremony on the Manor lawn. Not even Draco’s old mates came back into the country to offer condolences. Everyone was too scared.


Draco soon had to go back into Knockturn Alley for more nightshade for his stores. Now that his probation was lifted, he could take some of the Malfoy Family wares and sell them for supplies. He told his mother he was going for food and clothing, but he intended not to come back with anything but his tiny bottle of leaf. As soon as he set foot in WIzarding London, he was beaten and mugged as ‘payment for his crimes’. He sent the elves for nightshade after that.


After Narcissa was severely beaten by the same angry crowd on an outing with her one remaining friend, and then subsequently turned away from treatment at St Mungo’s, they knew it was only a matter of time before someone killed them like they had Lucius. It was decided they needed to go into hiding.


Draco and Narcissa separated so they were not found, and only spoke to each other in codes. They did not know where the other was, but there was a daily owl for comfort. Draco fled to the family’s loft in Paris, Narcissa to parts unknown. There, for the month, Draco had been making a life for himself. A miserable, more numb version of himself that he couldn’t even face.


A soft but insistent pounding on his door forced Draco to rise up off of his bed and start his day. He knew exactly what it was before he even opened it, but his heart still fell slightly when  he saw that Roger was standing in the doorway. Draco put his mask up and forced a smile onto his face before the tall blond man could even look up.


“Roger! It’s so good to see you! Right on time,” Draco said, welcoming him into the flat.


“As always, darling.” Roger said, smiling in what he probably assumed was a sweet way, but Draco only saw a leering and cruel sneer.


“Would you like some wine?” Draco asked. Normally, he didn’t offer, but he desperately needed a drink to get through this.


“No thank you. You know I like to be in complete control,” Roger whispered the last two words almost like a threat.


“Of course,” Draco smiled warmly and tipped back his goblet of claret with gusto. He hated himself every time this happened, but if he wanted rent, food, and Nightash he had to do this.


When Roger’s hand began to trail up his spine, Draco swallowed down the bile and turned around to meet his lover.


“Here is your fare,” Roger slipped a sack of coins in Draco’s pocket. He could feel the heft of the gold coins and knew he had gotten his agreed upon fee.


As soon as Draco nodded his assent, Roger was on him, turning him around and pressing him roughly against the counter. Draco's aching body arched and he cried out. He didn't know if he could take Roger's rough touch tonight. He really didn’t know how long he was going to survive if he kept selling his body for drugs. The whole concept seemed like something beneath him, but he was desperate for the one thing that made existence tolerable.


"Don’t worry, baby, daddy will make it all better," Roger growled, yanking at Draco's trousers.


Draco closed his eyes and went away. It was hard to disappear without the Nightash, but when strange men were making use of his body, Draco had to go somewhere else or he wouldn't be able to go through with it. He couldn't deny he was being fucked, so instead, he imagined that the person touching him wanted him, needed him, and loved him. If he closed his eyes tight enough, Draco could hear whispers of sweet words and feel soft touches against his tender skin.


Draco knew in reality that no one could ever love him. Anyone worthy and good would take one look at his arm and run screaming in the other direction. He couldn't fathom being with a Muggle, and the French only saw him as a junkie. Draco was completely alone. Any of the men he attracted only seemed to want to cause him pain. He gave up long ago. He was only alive for his mother.


Roger's 'session' ended mercifully quickly that evening, and Draco had enough gold to get his Nightash and make his way to the nearest club. He rushed to the broken down alley in Belleville to meet with the apothecary that dealt the good stuff out of the back of his shop. He could almost taste the spicy, fragrant smoke.


After giving over most of his gold to the haggard old man who stood watch over the Apothecary’s more unsavory dealings, Draco couldn’t wait the few block walk back to his flat to light up some of his treat. He stuffed some of the dried leaves into his wooden pipe and lit his wand to the end. Soon, smoke was filling his lungs and the buzzing in his head was fading away.


“Arret! Maintenant!” Someone shouted from down the alleyway. Draco started running, hoping that perhaps he would be faster than any spells his pursuers could muster.


A stunner hit him hard in the back, and Draco fell, his face slamming against the pavement. The only thought in his mind as everything went dark was a silent plea to never have to go back to England.




The French Ministry was surprisingly Spartan. Harry looked around for a fountain, a gold statue, or any sort of opulence, but saw instead only matching mahogany doors, accompanying furniture, and the occasional patterned rug. The seat of an entire magical population’s government was small, efficient, and not at all like Harry had pictured anything dealing with France and magic.


Most of the men and women that walked past Harry and Ron were dressed in a uniform of sorts. The black ones seemed to signify the authority figures, while the brown were law enforcement, and the light blue was research. Those men not in uniform were dressed in things like old-fashioned, trousers held up by leather suspenders, shirtsleeves, and wire-rimmed glasses that Harry was convinced hadn’t been worn since Britain was still on a colonizing spree. The women all seemed to have short hair, pin curls, and knee-length dresses with fringe dangling from every angle. Harry thought that they were going to start doing the foxtrot and lamenting communists at any  moment.


“They all look as barmy as Fleur. At least she didn’t spell her hair all funny. This is ridiculous,” Ron said, looking flabbergasted as some witches walked by with shoes clicking on the marble flooring with a loud ‘tap tap tap’.


“Well, it’s the trend. Remember what Fleur always says, ‘As Paree goes, so we weel follow!’” Harry said, flourishing his hand and trying on his best French accent.


“Roaring twenties is a little better than that Victorian shite they were all about last year,” Ron muttered.


“I’ll never forget the time Ginny passed out trying to get that corset tied!” Harry smiled. His laughter was immediately followed by a small pang of loneliness. He and Ginny may not have worked out, but he still really missed having a companion.


“If you start getting all mopey again, I’m going to be forced to do the Charleston,” Ron said, elbowing Harry. Harry was tempted to almost feign ennui to get him to do it.


“As I live and breathe, it really is Harry Potter and Ron Weasley,” someone said behind them in a distinctly English accent.


Ron puffed out his chest a little as he turned around, always loving the attention as long as it didn’t interfere with his life, and Harry just sighed and met the young wizard’s eye. He was short and thin, with dirty blonde hair and eyes nearly as blue as Ron’s. Harry could have sworn he’d seen him before. He was getting a sick sense of Déjà vu.


“Bloody hell! Dennis Creevy?” Ron asked, his mouth hanging open. The smaller wizard just blushed and nodded; obviously amazed he was being remembered.


“But you disappeared after the war. No one heard from you!” Harry said, still trying to recover from the shock. One day they were celebrating their victory in the battered Great Hall, and the next day Dennis was gone and life had moved on.


“I just couldn’t handle being in that castle. And pretty soon, I couldn’t even handle being in the country. Luckily, Je parle Francais, so I contacted some relatives over here and got a job as a liaison in the French Ministry,” Dennis explained, smiling warmly.


“Ah, so you’re our point-of-contact, eh?” Ron asked, reaching out and grasping Dennis’ hand. Harry jumped, remembering his manners late, and took the younger wizard’s hand.


“Yes. I understand you are missing a friend?” Dennis said, frowning.


“My sister-in-law…or something…my brother’s wife’s sister. But she’s very careful and she would never just vanish!” Ron said, his voice beginning to falter as he picked his words.


“I understand. It just so happens that when I got assigned to this, I went ahead and talked to the head of Law Enforcement here. I mean, a beautiful, young witch vanishes on the streets of Paris?” Dennis threw up his arms. “This can’t be just a one-time thing!”


“No, I can’t imagine,” Harry said, smiling as Dennis became more excited. His eyes got as wide as Collins’ used to.


“Well? Do they have anything?” Ron said.


“Erm. Yes and no. There is an ongoing investigation, and one that has taken a lot of manpower and money, but I’ve not been able to get an audience with the head investigator. He refuses to speak to me about some random missing witch.” Dennis said, nearly pouting.


He still looked so young, and Harry felt his heart breaking a little. “I’m sure we can help him to see reason,” Harry said darkly. If the French Ministry was going to be difficult, he would be difficult right back.


“Right. But first, what is the case?”


“They have come across a brothel here that is rumored to be forcing their employees to perform,” Dennis said, mumbling slightly. “Of course we have plenty of magical places for…that…here, but they are meant to be consensual.”


“Fuck,” Ron said, his hands beginning to shake. Harry said nothing as his stomach began to heave.


“So they think that young witches and wizards are being kidnapped and kept magically,” Dennis said, his fists clenching.


“But how do they know?” Harry asked, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.


“We hear rumors from other apprehended members of ‘lower society’. When everyone began to say the same thing, we needed to take action,” Dennis explained.


“So why can’t we help them in this and hopefully find Gabrielle?” Ron asked, his brow furrowing.


“It’s delicate. They found an addict on the street one day who had been known to rent himself out. He wasn’t part of the circle from what the Ministry could tell, but he had the right persona,” Dennis answered.


“A spy,” Harry stated. There was no question. That’s what he would have done too.


“Yeah. We sent him in as a mole at a suspected house three days ago. The first day, he sent us so much information, we had practically built a case, but then his line went quiet. We haven’t been able to trace him,” Dennis said heavily.


“Well I can see why your bosses don’t want anyone involved. There’s blood on their hands now,” Harry said sardonically.


“Blood of a drug addicted rentboy,” Ron said.


“Have some empathy, Ron,” Harry sighed.


“I haven’t seen him, but rumor has it he was a British wizard who begged not to be sent back to England.”


“I think it’s time Ron and I talked to the lead investigator,” Harry said, determined to get involved in that case. He just needed to know if there was a chance Gabrielle was there. If it was a dead end, he’d start over, but Harry was never the kind of person to deny his gut, and his gut was telling him that Gabrielle was in worse danger than they had feared.




And know I will never speak of days

Cause I know you won’t count them.

No we have never grown a day from the poison we shared


The chains around Draco’s wrists were becoming nearly too much to bear. The metal dug into his skin and there was dried blood in streaks running down his arm. The rest of the witches and wizards forced to suffer in this terrifying home at least were bound by magic and not by irons, but not Draco. He was caught trying to escape, and for that, was given a punishment that would eventually kill him.


Of course, he wasn’t trying to escape. The French Ministry had sent them in there with instructions to pass them information. They had given him the location of a magical portal, big enough for a slip of paper, hidden in the corner of the house. All Draco had to do was take in the layout, the number of guards, and the number of victims and send that information through the portal. The price was his freedom, and it was one Draco was certainly willing to pay.


The problem came when the portal suddenly got larger. His hand had accidentally touched the magical outline and it had expanded. The guards thought that he had figured out a way to use his magic and was trying to break out. They locked him in the basement immediately.


What followed was two days of scattered beatings, curses, and no food or water. He could handle the fucking he had to deal with upstairs, but this torture was too much. Draco always thought that he would greet death with relief, but now he needed nothing more than one more worry-free breath. In the face of death, once again, Draco just couldn’t bring himself to give up.


After an eternity of floating in and out of consciousness, Draco was startled by soft footsteps on the stone floor. It wasn’t the heavy thud of boots and leather shoes, but the slap of bare feet on the dirty, cold floor. Draco was worried that this was some new kind of game is captors were playing. He tensed up and closed his eyes as the footsteps approached.


“Shhhhh, relax. I won’t hurt you,” A light, musical voice with a French accent floated in his ears. Draco though it could still be a lie, so he kept himself ready. “I ‘ave brought you some food and water. No one knows I am down here. Please take it and let me help you,” she begged.


Draco opened his eyes and was nearly blinded by the woman in front of him. She wore a white dress, down to her knees and fringed as was the fashion, but the dress shimmered in the light feeding through the dusty window behind her. Her hair was so bright, so golden, that she appeared as though she had a halo around the top of her head. Draco had never been a man of faith, but he swore he was gazing upon an angel through his swollen stare.


“Who are you?” Draco whispered, his throat burning from the strain of the iron band around his neck.


“My name iz Gabrielle. Please, take zis water,” she said quietly.


Draco wanted to weep with relief at the cool water flowing down his throat. He took a few more greedy sips and then whimpered when some drips of water hit the cuts around his neck. Gabrielle’s hands were on him in an instant, trying to massage his pinched skin free. When she was satisfied, she poured some of the water on his wound. The burning subsided and Draco truly did feel a tear falling from his cheek.


“Why are you doing this?” Draco asked, shocked that she was risking so much. She was obviously one of the prisoners, he could see the magical bands twining her own wrists.


“You don’t deserve zis,” she explained, bringing a piece of bread up to his mouth.


“You don’t know me,” Draco said between bites.


“I see your arm and I don’t care,” Gabrielle retorted gently. Just as Draco was about to ask her about how she knew about Death Eaters, an gigantic ‘crash’ was heard, followed by the entire building shaking around them.


“Gabrielle, run!” Draco screamed, though the intense movement caused so much pain he saw stars.


“No, I weel stay here wiz you,” she said, standing in front of him. When the heavy footfalls were heard on the stairs, Draco’s vision began to blur.


“Please! Please save yourself. Don’t do this, I’m begging you! Not for me,” Draco sobbed.


The walls continued to shake and Gabrielle pressed her back against Draco’s chest. He whispered ‘please go’ right before a wizard rushed to the front of the cell. He had his wand drawn and looked battle-worn and menacing, but he appeared small in stature and his face belied a warm and non-threatening demeanor.


“Bloody fucking hell,” the wizard whispered. He waved his hand to someone down the hall just as Draco’s vision faded.




Harry didn’t know what to expect from an illegal Parisian brothel, but what he saw certainly wasn’t it. The men were all sharply dressed, with the same suspenders he saw in the French Ministry, but also donning pinstriped suits and fedoras. The women walked around in fringey dresses with short hair and tight caps or bands on their heads. There was a piano playing lively music by itself in a corner and everyone had a drink in their hand.


Harry would have thought he had gone back in time if not for the terrified, wide-eyed look of the young women in the room. They had smiles on their faces, but they did not do anything to make them look less fearful, especially with the magical bands around their wrists and ankles. Harry nearly drew his wand when he saw a young girl no older than 18 sitting in the lap of a man with slicked back hair, tears quietly sliding down her cheeks.


“I…I can’t,” Ron groaned, his body shaking. Harry knew how Ron was, and seeing so many people in need and not doing anything was going to tear them both apart.


“We just have to lay low and set up the decoys and alarms. Once we do that, the backup will be in to take them down and we’ll find Gabrielle and get out of this disgusting place,” Harry said, his hand on Ron’s shoulder.


“What if she’s not here?” Ron asked, trying not to look as a pair in the sitting room began to snog madly.


“We’ll deal with that later. Right now, you go left, I’ll go right,” Harry said. As soon as they separated, a wizard greeted Ron and pulled him into the sitting room, where three women stood up and rushed to kneel in front of him. Ron, to his credit, remained stoic.


“And what might your taste be this evening?” A wizard with a  purple fedora and a feather in his cap rushed up to Harry. Luckily, he and Ron were both wearing glamours, or he was sure he would be recognized.


“Erm…How about you give me a room and send me a surprise?” Harry said, cursing himself for sounding so obvious. All he needed was an empty room to set up an entry point as soon as Ron started the decoys.


“You better have money, you Pinko Commie!” the man said, smiling like they had some sort of inside joke. Harry tried to think of any twenties slang he could throw around, but he couldn’t, so he just laughed and rolled his eyes.


“You can only get girls in here. We keep the boys in cages in the basement. I know it seems rough, but we’re trying to think of the way homosexuals were viewed in the twenties. We want you to have an authentic experience!” The wizard just laughed as he opened a doorway. Harry was struck with an idea as he saw the small room and the vents in the floors.


“On second thought, which way to the basement?” Harry asked casually.


“Oh ho! A man of my own tastes. Don’t tell the bosses, they’ll have us in jail for sodomy!” The excited wizard just smiled, doffed his cap, and led him to a set of stairs.


Harry knew that Dennis was supposed to be the one going underground. He was to set up a shaking charm that would rock the foundations and help distract as the reinforcements moved in from Harry’s access point. However, when Harry realized the ventilation system went right through the basement and circulated through the whole house, he knew he could open up multiple points by sending the spells through the vents.


“Take your pick! The guard will be down in a moment to open up the cell and take you to a room,” and with that, the unnamed wizard bowed toward the stairs. He looked one way and saw a row of cells with hands hanging out of them. The other way was darkness.


Harry took off his glamour charm and found Dennis hiding in the shadows at the bottom of the stone steps, muttering the spell to himself over and over again. When Harry approached him, he almost jumped out of his skin. Harry put his fingers to his lips, pointed toward the pot-bellied stove, and nodded. Dennis pointed his wand at a stone pillar and looked up at the floor above them. Once they were both in position, they waited for Ron’s signal.


Harry felt his pocket heat up, and immediately sent his spell forth. “Patefacio Vitera” he repeated five times, to each vent, and watched with trepidation as each white line disappeared into the above rooms. He had never practiced splitting his spells in the field before, and Harry knew he was taking a big chance. The walls started shaking and Harry could hear explosions coming from upstairs, a cue that the diversion had started.


“Bloody fucking hell!” he heard Dennis yell from the other end of the hall. Harry looked over to see Dennis staring, shock written all over his face, toward something in the last cell.


“Please! Please don’t hurt us! We are being held here against our weel!” a panicked voice shouted over the fray. Harry recognized that voice and rushed over as Dennis began beckoning madly.


“We aren’t going to hurt you,” Dennis shouted. “But we need to get out right now!”


“I can’t. I am bound!” the girl replied.


“Gabrielle!” Harry shouted, bounding toward the end of the hall. When he saw her, he felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. She was standing there, looking relatively unscathed, in front of a curled up figured chained to the wall.


“’Arry! Oh merci Le Pere!” She said, bounding forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Harry didn’t know Gabrielle very well, indeed he had only spent time with her on a few family occasions, but he held her back just as tightly.


“Harry! I can’t get him unhooked!” Dennis exclaimed, throwing charms at the locks around the shackled figure’s ankles. Harry let go of Gabrielle and rushed to Dennis’s side.


“Please be careful with ‘im! ‘E is very hurt!” Gabrielle exclaimed, fear in her voice. “’E ‘as been down ‘ere for two days.”


“This must be our mole,” Dennis said over the rumbles upstairs.


Harry just nodded, brandishing his wand. The man was shirtless and covered with painful bruises and wounds that looked like they were festering. His hair was covered in filth and his body rested limply against the damp wall. Harry tried every spell he could think of that could rid the prisoner of his shackles without hurting him further. One spell managed to shift the prisoner slightly. When his arm fell to the side, Harry saw a tattoo hidden among the cuts and scrapes.


“Fuck!” Harry shouted, almost jumping back on reflex.


“Our mole was a filthy Deatheater?” Dennis yelled.


Suddenly, Gabrielle pushed Harry to the side, got on her knees, and began slamming the shackles against the floor. She was sobbing loud enough to be heard over the sound of the battle raging upstairs, but she just kept trying to free the man from his bonds. Harry watched for a few moments, speechless as her white dress began to soak up the filth of the floor, before he put a hand on her shoulder.


“He doesn’t deserve zis! No human being does!” She looked up at him with tears streaming down her face.


“I know love,” Harry comforted. “Dennis? Can you send a patronus to Ron? I think we need some more power here.”


While Dennis performed his spell, Harry canceled the magic enslaving Gabrielle and turned back to the man on the wall. If he couldn’t free him, he could at least heal some of the more horrifying injuries so that moving him would be easier. Harry started at the man’s legs and then moved up to his torso. He healed what he could around the impenetrable shackles, and finally moved up to the prisoner’s face. He knew there were likely some head injuries he could take care of before they got him to a healer.


When Harry lifted the other man’s chin, he cried out loud, struggling to keep from letting go and causing the man’s head to flop back against the stone. He was looking at the sunken in, beaten face of Draco Malfoy. Harry suddenly found it hard to breathe. How could any of this have happened? How could any of it make sense? One day he was reading of the remaining Malfoy’s mysterious disappearance, and now he was trying to heal the drug-addicted rent boy that the French Ministry sent on a suicide mission.


Harry reached up and brushed Malfoy’s hair away from his forehead tenderly, biting his lip. He wanted so suddenly and so viscerally to just lift Malfoy up and run like mad somewhere safe and invisible, that he almost pulled on him without unhooking the shackles. When Harry healed a knot on his forehead, Malfoy’s eyes shot open and his body started shaking.


“Kill me! Please…” Draco shouted the first, but the last word came out in a whisper.


“No, Draco. No. You’re safe,” Harry said, his heart racing and his eyes watering. “No one is going to hurt you.”


Harry had no idea what compelled him to hold onto Malfoy and comfort him, but he needed to. There was something about seeing the Slytherin again that triggered a reaction in Harry he couldn’t explain, and seeing him again in such a state had burned inside of Harry with intensity that would have frightened or alarmed him if not for the adrenaline already residing in his chest.


“Oh Gods,” Harry heard Ron coming toward him.


“We can’t get these fucking things off, Ron!” Harry said, really starting to panic. It had been a long time and a number of auror missions since Harry had felt himself become so unhinged. Harry could hear the pleading tone in his own voice. “Can you think of anything?”


Ron stood quiet and still for what felt like an eternity, but was likely only a few seconds. “Yes. Yes I’ve got it. I need you to cast a shield on the underside of the cuffs. I saw your portal spell, I know  you can steer your magic.”


Harry complied, coating one of Malfoy’s wrists in the glassy white light of a strong shield charm. Ron knelt down and took Malfoy’s hand in his, but the battered wizard began to move away and dodge Ron’s touch.


“I know we have no reason to trust each other,” Ron started, looking at Malfoy and making no movements other than the blink of his eyes. “But I need you to trust me to get you out of here.” Malfoy and Ron were both sitting perfectly still, their eyes locked on one another, until finally the blond wizard weakly lifted his arm.


“Vitrum Inflamare”, Ron muttered . One of Hermione’s brilliant little bluebell flames came out of the tip of Ron’s wand, with a heat so intense Harry could see, come out in waves through the dank cellar air. Then, Ron pointed the flame at one of Draco’s shackles and Draco closed his eyes and pulled away every part of his body but his left wrist. Compelled to do something, Harry ran his thumb carefully along the palm of Malfoy’s hand. Shocked gray eyes met his own as Ron completed his work. Malfoy did not tear his gaze away, and Harry did not pull his hand away, until they heard a dull ‘clank’ against the hard floor.


Soon, all of Malfoy’s chains had fallen away and he was struggling to get up. “Why? Why not just leave me here?” he asked as Ron held out his hand and pulled Malfoy to his feet.


“Who do you think we are?” Ron asked as Harry walked around and put his arm around Draco’s very thin waist.


“Can you walk?” Harry asked, taking Malfoy’s weight against his side. He had no idea what to say in the situation to explain anything he was thinking or feeling, so he tried to pretend that walking Draco Malfoy away from a hellish prison was an everyday occurrence.


“I think so,” Draco said quietly. Harry could feel Draco’s hand shake and hesitate behind his back, so Harry took it and placed it on his opposite shoulder. They took one step, and Draco hissed in pain. Gabrielle rushed over to take his other side.


“No, you need to be protected. You’re unarmed. I came all the way to France!” Ron said. Dennis rushed up and took Gabrielle’s hand, drawing his wand.


Suddenly, Harry felt Ron’s hand brush against his side as he and Malfoy both gasped. They began moving, keeping Gabrielle and Dennis in their line of sight as they ascended the stairs. The battle was still going, but it looked as though the French Ministry had it under control.They must have gotten Dennis’ distress signal and found their way into the home through Harry’s portals.  Harry managed to lead them to the nearest portal before the entire house began to collapse.


As soon as they were out of the house and into the street, Draco fell limply to the ground.


And we're walking our crooked backs home

But will we ever confess what we've done?

Guess we're still kids on the run.


The first thing he heard was a gentle ‘tap, tap, tap’ like small feet skittering across the floor. It brought him out of his nightmares, but when he opened his eyes to find out where the sound was coming from, the light stung his eyes and he had to close them again. He listened for the tapping, and when he located the sound again, he felt more at ease. As he continued to listen, he could make out a growling breath, cycling in and out, slowly in time with the tapping. He felt…okay.


As he became more aware of his body, Draco also remembered the last time his eyes were opened. Panic overtook him. He knew he couldn’t still be in his cell, and the bed he was lying in was far too hard to be from his own flat, so that left the alternative that Potter and Weasley had taken him somewhere. Draco began to feel sick at the thought that they saw him in that state. He groaned out loud, and the tapping ceased.


“Oh Draco! You’re up,” He recognized Gabrielle’s voice before he could even see her clearly. It would always be seared into his brain. Knowing she was there put him at ease.


“Where am I?” Draco asked, gratefully taking the water she handed him.


“You’re in a private medical facility in Paree,” She said, brushing the hair away from his forehead. It was a shocking act of tenderness for someone that for all intents and purposes he knew nothing about.


“I can’t…” Draco wanted to say he couldn’t afford treatment, but stopped himself from revealing all of his worst secrets. “Why am I here?”


“You were brought here to recuperate until you are well enough to take to your muzzer in England,” she answered, and Draco began to panic.


“My mother? How was she found? I can’t go back to England! She can’t go back to England! She’ll die!” Draco was hyperventilating. Gabrielle put a hand on his shoulder and coached him to slow down his breathing.


“You are safe, and your safety is guaranteed when you return. Your muzzer is waiting for you. She could not get clearance to come to France, but she will be on ze uzzer end of ze portkey,” She explained quietly.


“This just doesn’t make- Wait! Your family! You need to be with them! Why are you still here?” Draco asked suddenly.


“I’ve already been home and come back,” she smiled, refilling his water glass. “Ron brought me back here.”


“How long have I been asleep?” Draco asked, forcing himself to calm down. He couldn’t believe that Weasley had been around his sick bed, let alone that someone would want to stay with him.


“Three days, love. Zey had to get a lot of potions out of your system.” She sat down on the side of his bed. Draco looked at his fingers, trying to hide how red his cheeks were getting.


“And how was my mother found?” Draco asked. Gabrielle bit her lip and then flicked her wand. A silencing charm he didn’t know was in place fizzled around them and dissipated.


Suddenly, the pile of blankets in the chair next to him flew up and Harry Potter emerged. His wand was drawn, his hair was sticking up in all directions, and his eyes were wide and unfocused. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in ages, and while his clothes were clean, his hands were still covered in dust and grime. Draco could not make any sense of what he was looking at. When Harry’s bright green eyes met his, Draco felt a jolt somewhere deep in his chest.


“You’re awake,” Harry said unnecessarily. There was a hopeful smile forming on his lips that made Draco want to melt into his bed and hide.


“It would seem so,” Draco responded. He expected his words to come out with the familiar bite he always reserved for Potter, but instead he just whispered.


“Are you okay? How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” Potter was talking quickly, like someone had shot him with too much pepper-up potion.


“I’m…fine,” Draco responded. He was at a complete loss for how to react. “Have you, have you been sleeping here?”


“Yeah,” Potter looked away, blushing. Why was he blushing? Draco felt his heart speed up again, but this time devoid of panic.


A number of scenarios began to flit across Draco’s consciousness. Maybe Potter did care? Maybe Potter was there because he was feeling the same unexplainable…thing…that Draco was feeling. Maybe, for the first time in ages, Draco mattered.


He realized quickly he was a fool. Obviously he was a novelty for Potter to gawk at. The drug addicted whore had fallen far from his princely school days and Potter was enjoying Draco’s shame and demise. Draco decided right then that he wasn’t going to be mocked or hurt.


“Well, I’m awake now. You don’t have to babysit any longer,” Draco said, looking away. “You can get out of my room now.”


There was a silence so thick that Draco thought the air would freeze around him and shatter like a block of ice.


“Yeah…yeah of course. Take care, Draco,” Potter said, sounding hurt and confused.


Draco’s heart constricted as he heard the footsteps retreat, but knew that it was a necessary brutality. As soon as the door had closed, Draco felt a smack hit his exposed arm.


“What ze fuck is wrong with you?” she screeched. Draco wondered if she had Veela in her blood.


“What do you mean? Potter wants to be here just about as much as I want him here,” Draco said, examining his fingers. Someone had washed his hands, though his nails were still pretty jagged.


“Oh, so he would like very much to stay?” Gabrielle asked, folding her arms over her chest.


“You’re delusional. This is the first time we’ve spoken since my trial. The hero did his job and now he can fly off to his next adventure,” Draco said, getting frustrated at her penetrating stare.


“Zat’s glib and simplistic,” she responded.


“Glib? Glib! I was ridden out of England on rails for being a fucking Death Eater,” Draco said, his face heating up. “That. Is. A. Dark. Wizard! I got addicted to a bloody potion that I’m sure I’ll fall into again as soon as I can because I’m so fucking weak. And to pay for that habit, I sold my body! I think glib is an understated version of how I should be feeling.”


Silence hung in the air again. Gabrielle walked back to  him, leaned down, and wrapped her long, thin arms around his neck. He held her back, letting his tears fall on her shoulder. He didn’t really know why he was so attached to her, he was sure it had to do with the fact that she was blonde, delicate, and beautiful like his mother, but he wanted to cling to her like a life preserver. He wanted to give up, and she seemed to keep him from falling below the surface and letting go.


“’Arry stayed here for three days. He didn’t leave your side. A few times, I caught him talking to you. Regardless of how little you think you deserve it, he cares,” She said softly.


“What makes you think you know me so well?” Draco asked without bite. “We’ve had a total of maybe an hour of conscious time together.”


“An hour…a lifetime…it all merges togezzer sometimes,” she smiled sadly.


“Will you be okay?” Draco asked, suddenly feeling guilty for not having asked after her.


“You should talk to ‘Arry.” she replied. She waved goodbye and left the room without another word.


Draco knew he should say something to Potter. He knew that what Potter had done was more than just mere concern. But what did that mean? He was so tired of playing around with possibilities. He wanted…needed certainty. He didn’t want to go back to the life he used to live, mere days before, but he had no idea where to go from that lonely hospital bed.




And no we will never be a part of the pictures once taken

When we're feeding fire with the flames til no memories gone

And the cold sky will write us a song

But will we ever confess what we've done?

Guess we're still kids on the run


“Oy! Have you listened to a bloody word I’ve bloody said?” Ron slammed his fork down on his tray in mock indignation.


Harry jumped at Ron’s voice slicing through his thoughts. Since he left Malfoy’s hospital room in Paris nearly three days ago, he hadn’t been able to think about much more than the blond wizard. He was dying to know how Malfoy was feeling, and for a while Harry was able to convince himself that he was just concerned for a fellow wizard. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling of want that kept bubbling up from his centre.


“Sorry, Ron. I guess I’m just tired,” Harry said, picking at his plate of chicken fingers and chips.


“Too tired to eat? Can I have a chip or two then?” Ron said, reaching out for Harry’s food before he even acquiesced. “Really, though, what is it? Are you in one of your moods again?”


“I can’t…I don’t know yet, Ron. Everything in my head is all jumbled up. I need to make sense of it before I can actually say it out loud,” Harry said, hoping against hope that it would placate Ron.


“Oh, who do you want to bone?” Ron said, a smile stretching across his face. So much for that.


“No one you know,” Harry said, his face turning red.


“I know everyone,” Ron said. He was right.


Harry stood up quickly, knocking his chair over. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sick for wanting it.” He walked away and threw his food in the bin as he left.


“Hey! Yell at me all you want, but don’t waste good chicken you barmy sod!” he heard Ron shout from the cafeteria.




Harry shouldn’t have been surprised when he apparated directly to Andromeda’s house. He told himself it was to see Teddy, since he was scheduled to take him for a few hours later that day anyway, but really he wanted to catch a glimpse of Malfoy. Harry knew that if he just had a look at the Slytherin, he’d regain his sanity and remember that Draco was an arrogant prick who would have made a terrible match with him. He walked through Mrs. Tonks’ wards easily and opened the iron gate into the garden.


Harry had already known that Narcissa Malfoy was in hiding, Andromeda had confided in him that she was communicating with her estranged sister. So when Malfoy needed a place to stay, Harry arranged for both him and his mother to be safely ensconced in the Tonks household. As long as Andromeda maintained her wards (with a  few of Harry’s own) The Malfoys could return to England in relative obscurity. Harry wasn’t ready to admit that perhaps he wanted Malfoy a little closer to where he was as well.


He walked into the back garden, following the sounds of Teddy’s cooing and women’s laughter. As he rounded the corner of the house, however, the first thing he saw was the back of Malfoy’s head. He couldn’t explain it, but he was suddenly seized with intolerable nerves, and hid behind a tall shrub out of the way. He peered around the edge to see what was going on, unsure if he’d be welcomed while Malfoy was enjoying his afternoon.


“Oh, Andy, I can’t get over how absolutely perfect your grandchild is,” Narcissa Malfoy’s disembodied voice came from somewhere on the porch, followed by another gleeful noise from Teddy. “He’s so calm and happy! Just like Draco as a baby. You wouldn’t know it to see him now, but my little dragon used to smile endlessly.”


“Yes, and now I’m just a sulking old fool,” Draco murmured. There was a lightness to his voice that made Harry smile.


“Of course not, dear,” Narcissa responded offhandedly. “I’m sure once you fall in love, your infectious smile will return.”


“You know very well-“ Draco scoffed, but was cut off.


“Now my Nymphadora was an absolute nightmare of a child! She constantly got into everything. She was always breaking things and getting hurt. I had her in St Mungo’s nearly every other week,” Andromeda laughed and then sighed. “Such a brave, foolhardy child.”


“I’m sorry I didn’t know her better, Andy,” Narcissa said quietly. There was a light sniffle and Harry suddenly felt like an arse hiding in the bushes. He decided to make his presence known, and make like he had just arrived of course.


“Hi Mrs. Tonks!” Harry greeted. “Oh Mrs. Malfoy, Draco, I didn’t know you guys were here!” Harry feigned surprise. He was hoping to save a little face under the sudden penetrating glare of Draco’s gray eyes.


“Come off it, Harry. Cissy knows that you were the one that arranged this,” Andromeda said, gesturing to a seat nearby.  Malfoy’s eyebrows lifted in surprise and Harry coughed to hide his awkward chuckle and chose to sit in the grass with Teddy…far away from scrutiny.


“Well, now that we have an impromptu minder, why don’t we go into town and do a little shopping. It’s been so long, I’m sure my wardrobe could use an update. And I could use some time around people,” Narcissa said, her eyes twinkling slightly.


“Excellent idea! Harry, you know where everything’s at. Teddy will need to be fed again in 1 hour. We should be back in time for dinner. Send Draco if you need anything!” Andromeda was already putting on her shoes and walking out the door before Harry could even respond.


“Sorry to run off so quickly, Mr. Potter, but I fear I’ve been dying for an opportunity to get away from the house and so I took it!” Narcissa said, waving her hand as she hustled around the side of the house.


Harry decided to spend his time minding Teddy and pretending like it wasn’t very strange and awkward to spend an afternoon relaxing in the garden with Draco Malfoy. However, when he looked over at his lifeline, the infant had fallen asleep on his blanket. His thumb in his mouth, drool falling down his chin, and his hair a jet black mess on his head. Harry was just about to whimper in distress when he heard Malfoy chuckle.


“I’ve never seen his hair do that before. I knew he was a metamorphmagus, but I never saw it happen,” Malfoy said, a sneer on his face. “He certainly chose the most ridiculous option he could!”


“Hey! I’ll have you know that this look is very in right now,” Harry said, feeling much more at ease with the familiar banter.


“Ugh. Really, Potter, get a haircut!” Malfoy said, the smile still on his face. Harry could feel his body heat up at the sight.


“Really, Malfoy, get a new face!” Harry smirked. When Malfoy didn’t answer, Harry declared his own victory. When he looked up, however, Malfoy’s hand was over the side of his face and his expression was sullen.


“I was just kidding. Your face is fine,” Harry back pedaled.


“No, it’s not.” He said quietly. He stood up and made his way toward the door.


“Malfoy, wait,” Harry said, grabbing his wrist as he retreated. Draco hissed in pain.


Harry froze, remembering the state of Draco’s wrists and ankles last time they were that close. He lifted Draco’s arm toward him and gently rolled back the sleeves. He was waiting for Draco to pull away, but he didn’t. Harry’s shaking hands finally exposed Draco’s skin, and had to bite his lip to keep from growling in anger. There were still bruises and a perfectly circular line of burned skin where the shackles had once held him to the wall of that Parisian basement.


Mustering his courage, Harry ran his thumb lightly over the underside of Draco’s wrist. He heard Draco let his breath out shakily and he looked up. When he was looking at Draco from that angle, he saw a long, white scar coming down his jaw and just underneath his ear. Draco lifted his free hand to cover his face.


“No,” Harry whispered, pulling Draco’s hand down and running a fingertip over the scar. “I-“


“Ahhhhhhh!” Teddy’s cries could be heard from behind them. Harry jumped, broken out of his trance. Draco’s face became guarded again.


“Oh, little Teddy Bear, I’m so sorry! It is getting chilly out here!” Harry said, running over to the blanket and holding Teddy to his chest. He rocked the little one for a time until he stopped crying, and then gestured to Draco to follow him inside.


Harry still hadn’t mastered the fine art of giving Teddy his bottle, but luckily he wasn’t burning the baby’s tongue off thanks to warming charms. All he had to do was make sure there were no bubbles, that Teddy burped often, and that the formula didn’t get chunky. Andromeda always did the rest of it ahead of time. He settled himself in Andromeda’s rocking chair, knowing Teddy would fall asleep as soon as he finished eating.


“Um…do you need anything?” Draco said, looking incredibly puzzled.


“It’s alright,” Harry said, snuggling Teddy into the crook of his arm.


“So, what in the world possessed my dear Aunt into making you a trusted caregiver for a helpless tiny wizard?” Draco asked, smirking slightly. Harry was gratified that he hadn’t scared Draco back into silence.


“Well, I’m his godfather, it’s only right that I help take care of him,” Harry said, cleaning some dribble off of Teddy’s chin with his sleeve.


“You? A Godfather? Obviously someone was mad when they decided that!” Draco snorted.


“You might be right, but now he’s the same as me. The same thing happened to him, and I’m not going to let him go unloved and scared. I won’t let anything bad happen to him,” Harry said, his thoughts becoming crowded by images of Teddy, scared and alone, locked in a dark room under the stairs.


“What are you on about?” Draco whispered, sitting on the sofa near the chair.


“He lost both of his parents in the war, just like me. He lost them before he even got to know them. But this time no one is going to fucking starve him, no one will lock him up, and no one will tell him he isn’t worthy of love,” Harry said, forgetting about his company for a moment and only knowing his determination to protect the young wizard.


“But…but you’re Harry Potter,” Draco said after an awkward silence.


“Do you think I wanted to wear clothes that were three sizes too big? Do you think I wanted to be so grossly underweight that my bones jutted out painfully against my skin? Who did you think I was when I got to Hogwarts filthy, skinny, and covered in rags?” Harry said, suddenly angry at nothing and everything. Something about Draco just made his emotions bubble in a way he had never felt before.


“I never…I didn’t…they locked you up?” Draco said, his hands searching for something to do. He settled on fiddling with Teddy’s hair, which began to turn bright blonde at this touch.


“I’m sorry,” Harry suddenly realized he was being a whiny idiot. “I get a bit emotional when I talk about Teddy.”


“It’s okay,” Draco answered. Something in Draco’s voice had Harry looking up. His face held a softness to it like Harry had never seen before, and he longed to just stand up and put his hands on either side of that new face and kiss every inch. Harry cleared his throat and quickly looked away.


Harry got up and placed Teddy in the cot Andromeda kept in the living room. He took a few deep breaths to compose himself, but his heart began to race when he felt the warmth of Draco’s breath very near to his neck. Harry clenched his fists to keep from turning around and slamming Draco against the wall. It wouldn’t do to snog someone madly in front of a sleeping baby.


“I never said thank you,” Draco said, his hands coming up over Harry’s forearms.


“Draco…” Harry whispered.


Suddenly, Harry couldn’t help it anymore. He turned around and kissed Draco fiercely, moving them toward something solid before they both tumbled to the floor. He poured every single ounce of fear, passion, love, and uncertainty into the way his hands moved over Draco’s chest. When Draco’s tongue finally ran across Harry’s lips, Harry moaned loudly.


Harry kissed along Draco’s jaw and neck, enjoying the perfect, breathy whimpers emanating from Draco’s throat. His cock throbbed with need. He could scarcely believe that in the span of days he had become such a victim to his baser instincts. He wanted…needed Draco so badly it hurt him.


“Boys? Sorry we left you two alone for so long. You didn’t suffer too badly, did you?” Andromeda was calling from the front door.


Harry and Draco leapt apart, retreated to opposite ends of the living room. Draco took a few seconds to straighten his hair and Harry wiped his mouth, his eyes never leaving Draco’s face. He was looking for some hint, anything at all, that said that what he just did was okay. Harry saw nothing but chilled indifference on Draco’s face and his stomach plummeted. He knew that Draco was just pitying him. Draco saw how besotted Harry was and thought he’d thank Harry. After all, isn’t that what he did for a living?


Harry immediately hated himself for the thought, but couldn’t let his doubts go as Draco plastered a smile on his face and greeted his aunt and mother.


“Thanks for letting me visit! I have to go,” Harry rushed out of the house as Andromeda and Narcissa called after him in confusion.


When he was free of the wards, he let out a primal yell and apparated directly to Ron and Hermione’s flat.




And the reflections in their eyes

Sure could paint us as killers

Oh, I'll be there.


And til the terror of our time

Could forgive us as lovers

Oh, lets break some hearts....


1 week later


“And zen he just walked away?” Gabrielle said, taking another delicate sip of her tea. She was wearing her hair in tight curls down her back with a feather magically fastened to one side of her coif. Draco looked down at the too-long string of pearls going down her silk dress and had to hide a derisive snort. “And don’t you say a damn thing about my ensemble. Ze twenties is ze fashion, and I will ride zis out.”


“If you say so,” Draco responded warily.


“I can see your wingtips,” Gabrielle smirked. “And you are trying to change ze subject.”


“Yes. My mother and aunt came home, we fixed ourselves up, and then he just rushed away. I’m sure he realized what he was doing, and ran out. I know I would,” Draco sighed.


“You need to stop zis. You liked it, non?” she said, pushing her dessert away from her so she could lean forward and eye Draco.


“Of course,” Draco swallowed.


“And you want to kiss him again?”


“So much,” he said quietly. “But, who in their right mind, let alone savior of the damned wizarding world, would want to actually be with me?”


Draco felt raw and exposed, but Gabrielle had seen him at his lowest, and he needed someone he could trust to share this part of him. He used to confide in Snape, but since his death, he’s been even more alone than normal. Gabrielle’s gaze didn’t soften one bit.


“Why, Draco? Is it because of ze drugs? Ze whoring?” Draco tried to get her to speak more quietly, but he could tell her dander was up. “Or was it ze-“


“Stop,” Draco said weakly.


“I was zere too, Draco, and for longer than you. I was not hurt in ze same way you were, but zey still hurt me badly,” She said, her eyes watering. Draco reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away. “I risked a lot to come down zere and tend to you. I knew you were zere, and zat you were not being fed…and I had to do something!”


“I do thank you for that, Gabrielle,” Draco said, his voice catching and his own eyes watering.


“Don’t make ze risk I took mean nothing, Draco Malfoy!” She got up and walked out, leaving him alone in a room full of onlookers.





Draco adjusted his robes for the fifth time, standing just outside the gate to the Weasley’s front garden. To his surprise, the wards had let him in. When Gabrielle invited him to her nephew’s naming ceremony, Draco almost spit, but when she said Harry would be there, he had to accept. He needed to find a way to see Harry, and he felt like a simple letter wouldn’t cut it. Also, if he confronted Harry in public, maybe Harry wouldn’t make a large scene of his brutal rejection. Gabrielle was right, though, he had to try.


He walked around the grounds, waving casually at the guests and trying not to stand out or get noticed at all. He scanned the crowd for Harry’s messy black hair, easy to spot among the white and reds of the Weasley-Delacour clan. However, he couldn’t see the other wizard anywhere, and decided that maybe he should just wait for a few moments before giving up. He sat down at the end of a long dock that stretched into the middle of a small pond.


“Oy! Malfoy! What are you doing here?” he heard Weasley shout. Draco cringed when the dock started to shake. Of course he was going to come and kick the usurper off of his land.


“I was just leaving your precious little party, out of my way,” he said with as much cut as he could muster.


“You can stay as long as you want. Gabby cleared it with us days ago,” Weasley explained. To Draco’s horror, he sat down right next to him on the old wooden bench. “I was just wondering what you were doing here.


“What in the world are you talking about? I just told you I was invited,” Drac said, getting defensive.


“Your mum is here, your aunt is here, the wee baby is here…which means no one is at the Tonks house,” Ron said, as though he was explaining a riddle. “So Harry went over there to find you.”


Draco jumped at Harry’s name. “Why?”


“To explain that would mean vomiting up my mum’s shepherd’s pie, and neither of us want to experience that,” Ron said. “Suffice it to say, Harry is taken with you and Hermione says I have to be okay with it. Because ‘what makes Harry happy is good enough for  our support’.”


“Do you always do everything the-“ Draco started, but Ron’s hand hit the wood next to him so hard the whole dock shook.


“If you say the ‘m’ word, so help me, I don’t give a fuck what Harry wants. I will throttle you,” Weasley said. He didn’t sound good natured or comical, he sounded threatening and serious. Draco made note of how intimidated the auror made him feel .


“I wasn’t,” Draco said with a  placating tone. “But why in the world haven’t you talked Potter out of this?”


“Because,” Ron started, swallowing hard and making a face. “It’s what he wants.”


“I just-“ Draco started, but Ron raised his hand.


“When Hermione was…when Bellatrix had her, I thought my life had ended. If I didn’t have her, I had nothing left. It was the worst night of my life. I just listened to her screaming in pain over and over again, and I was powerless,” Ron said, his voice shaking.


“I remember that night,” Draco said, feeling ready to vomit as he remembered the way Granger looked under the force of his aunt’s wand.


 “We lost a lot before the end of that war, but I still consider that the worst.” Weasley took a deep breath and looked over at Draco. “After that, all the small, petty shit…and even some of the bigger stuff…well, it didn’t matter. How could it? Hermione’s here, she’s right there in the house, and we’re both okay.”


“What a life affirming way to say I can snog your best mate,” Draco said. He was unbelievably touched by Weasley’s words, but he thought if he didn’t do something drastic, they would be stuck forever in some sort of awkward pond-side statis.


“Get out of here, you smarmy git,” Weasley said, elbowing him a little harder than he should.


Draco nodded and Apparated into the cold night air. There was a soft, flickering light coming from Andromeda’s front window, but otherwise, the house was dark. The shiver of the wards over his back gave him a sense of safety he hadn’t felt since he was very young. He smiled serenely in an attempt to calm his nerves. He tried not to think about the possibility that Harry wasn’t there.


Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted Potter to be there or not. A large part of him was hoping for another kiss, another tender touch from him that could wipe away the pain of the past few years. But another, small and niggling part, that seemed to take residence in his forearm, was scared to death that Potter would reject him, would hurt him, and he was terrified of taking the chance. Draco knew that he’d end up even more bitter and loathsome if he didn’t open his aunt’s front door and meet Harry Potter head on.


When Draco walked into the dimly lit living room, he froze, dropping his wand at the sight before him. Harry was lying on the sofa, his glasses askew, his head tipped back, and his mouth slightly open. He had fallen asleep while Draco wasted his time at The Weasley’s. There were a few candles lit near the hearth, and there was a stately looking bottle of merlot on the coffee table. Draco’s knees were beginning to give way beneath him.


He had no idea what he had done to deserve the obvious affection that Potter held for him. However, he knew what Gabrielle would say to catch him thinking like that, and he couldn’t bear to turn away from Potter at that point, so instead he shakily toed off his shoes and kneeled down beside the sofa. He took his time, memorizing the curves of the other wizard’s face, the dark shadow of stubble that was beginning to form on the jaw line, the soft bow of his mouth, and even ran his finger carefully over the fading but infamous scar. Finally, Draco plucked up his courage and placed his hand on the side of Harry’s face, letting his thumb run over his cheekbone.


Harry’s hand came over Draco’s as he sighed in his sleep. It was so warm that Draco closed his eyes a little to enjoy the transfer of heat. When he heard a sharp ‘gasp’ he opened them to meet Harry’s wide, green eyes. He began to pull his hand away, but Harry held onto his wrist a little more tightly. The dark haired wizard turned his head and kissed Draco’s palm, and Draco had to bite his lip to hold back a whimper.


“I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep. I was beginning to think you were never coming back,” Harry smiled shyly.


“I was at the Weasley’s, looking for you,” Draco said, blushing. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually blushed like that.


“Really?” Harry asked. He sounded so unsure. It startled Draco to think that Harry would find himself less in Draco’s eyes.


“Is that wine for me?” Draco asked, trying to avoid Harry’s suddenly penetrating gaze.


“Well it’s technically for both of us, but if you need it all to yourself, be my guest.” Harry smirked.


That smile was Draco’s undoing, he brought his other hand up to Harry’s face and pulled him in for a fierce kiss. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do…that he put it all into the motion of his lips moving against Harry’s. When he opened his mouth and Harry’s tongue moved inside, Draco moaned low in his throat and he reveled in the feeling of Harry’s grip tightening around his shoulders. He wound his arms around Harry’s back and pulled him up to deepen the kiss.


Every wave of muscle, every spasm of pleasure in his stomach, made Draco desperate for more. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him this way and yet with so much kindness that he feared he would cry. That just wouldn’t do, so he tried to focus on fighting for dominance with Harry’s tongue. Harry’s hands continued to move up and down over his back as Draco threaded his fingers in Harry’s unruly hair. He was convinced he never wanted to let go of those dark strands. He might die if he did.


Draco did let go of Harry’s hair, however, when Harry’s hips moved and their erections ground together through layers of clothing. Harry groaned, throwing his head back, and Draco latched his lips onto Harry’s smooth throat to stifle his own cries. Knowing that he was making Harry hot made Draco’s own cock throb with need.


“Fuck, Draco,” Harry said. Draco’s stomach turned over at the sound of his name on Harry’s.


“Gods, say it again. Please,” Draco cried, desperate to hear the melody of Harry’s voice uttering his given name.


“Draco…Draco…Draco…You’re so beautiful,” Harry said, sliding his hands up Draco’s sides and finding the clasp to his robes.


Harry’s words fell on Draco’s ears like relief, and he allowed Harry to pull his robe off and begin to unbutton his shirt. He touched everywhere he could while Harry kissed each new inch of exposed skin. Harry’s body was solid and smooth, and Draco thought he could live in his arms and never want for anything. He was overwhelmed.


He was so lost in the other wizard that he had temporarily forgotten his scars. But when Harry removed Draco’s shirt completely, he was suddenly very aware of his scars: the shackle burns, the lines from untold curses, the scar down his face, and even the faded scars from his and Harry’s last altercation. Draco wanted to wrap his arms around his waist, but couldn’t, because Harry was still pressing against him.


“Oh! Ha, I’m sorry, I didn’t…I’ll just,” Harry backed away and began to hastily pull his tee shirt over his head. Harry must have sensed Draco’s sudden discomfort and thought it was because he hadn’t removed his clothing. Draco wasn’t about to correct him.


“Let me,” Draco whispered, he pulled Harry close and cupped his arse through his jeans. Harry and Draco both moaned as their erections hit hard against each other. He undid Harry’s belt and opened his jeans. Harry was moving his hips back and forth in anticipation.


When Draco wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock, he felt a jolt in his own member. Harry had a thick, smooth cock that Draco could practically feel buried inside of him. He stood there for a few long moments, gently squeezing and moving his hand up and down, just trying to memorize the feel of Harry against his palm.


“Shit…Draco, I,” Harry moaned, and suddenly his cock throbbed. “I’m coming,” Harry cried, throwing his head back.


As Harry’s seed coated his hand, Draco wasn’t sure if he was more shocked or more turned on. He had made Harry come with the barest of movements so quickly that Draco wanted to reach his own climax at just the thought.


“That was…” Draco started.


“I’m sorry,” Harry said, blushing and casting a wandless cleaning spell on their bodies. “I’ve…never mind.”


Harry kissed Draco again, his hands curling on either side of Draco’s thin waist, thumbs dipping toward Draco’s navel. He pulled Draco against his body, and Draco felt Harry’s cock still slightly hard against his own painfully swollen one. Harry kissed up Draco’s neck, closing his lips over Draco’s earlobe, and Draco became dizzy with need.


“Can I apparate you to my home?” Harry whispered in his ear. Draco nodded eagerly, realizing they had been snogging in his aunt’s sitting room for far too long.


As soon as they landed on a cold, wooden floor, Harry pulled away. He fumbled with his jeans, but eventually pulled them from his body. Harry’s body wasn’t as thin as Draco’s, but still quite slim and decorated with muscles that Draco thought he could trace even there in the dim light of the strange sitting room. Draco echoed his motions until they were both standing naked before each other. Draco’s stomach clenched in nervous tumbles, and finally he had to wrap his arms around himself and look away.


In the next moment, he found himself pressed against a wall, Harry’s hips in line with his own. Harry lifted Draco’s hand to his lips again, but this time, his kiss lingered on the ring around Draco’s wrist, moving up to Draco’s Dark Mark. Draco definitely didn’t want Harry’s lips touching that filth. He pulled away, but Harry’s grip was overwhelmingly strong.


“No! I want all of you. Every last part of you, Draco. I’m not going to let this deter me, and it’s not going to make me think less of you. After everything we’ve gone through, how could it?” Harry asked, and then ran his lips up and down Draco’s forearm.


“Harry, please,” Draco’s voice shook. He thrust his hips against Harry’s bare body and Harry began to remove Draco’s trousers and pants.


“I’m going to be honest, I’ve never done this before,” Harry whispered, and before Draco could ask for elaboration, Harry was on his knees in front of him. He pulled Draco into his hot mouth and Draco saw stars.


“Fuck! Harry!” Draco shouted, slamming his fists against the wall to keep from gripping Harry’s hair.


Harry was a little sloppy, and a little clumsy, but the feeling of his mouth surrounding Draco was so incredibly he didn’t even care. He could feel his climax building, however, and he couldn’t have that. He pulled Harry away gently and pulled him to his feet. Draco buried his nose in Harry’s neck, working up his nerve to utter his next words.


“I’m sorry if that was-“ Harry started. Draco shook his head and turned around, his body shaking.


“I want you inside of me, Harry,” Draco said, bracing his hands on the wall.


“Draco,” Harry whispered, pressing his body against Draco’s, his hands wrapping around Draco’s front and his lips brushing along the back of his neck. “You’re so perfect.”


Draco hung his head to keep from arguing and spread his legs further. He heard Harry mutter a summoning spell, and suddenly Harry’s hands were parting his cheeks. Draco thrust his hips out in anticipation when he felt a cool liquid move down his body toward his entrance.


He felt a finger circle his entrance and slowly move in. Draco thrust against it, wanting Harry’s touch to go deeper. They both groaned as Draco’s body took Harry’s finger in. Harry soon added another finger, stretching him open, and Draco began to fuck himself on Harry’s hand with abandon, whispering nonsensical words of pleasure before finally finding a way to ask for more.

Harry’s hand came completely around Draco’s waist and he added a third finger, thrusting up and openly fucking Draco with his hand. Draco was crying Harry’s name over and over again, desperate to come, to be taken, to give everything over to Harry.


“Engorgio,” Harry whispered, Draco looked back to see the sofa in the sitting room expand. Draco thought they would remain in their positions, the familiar position of being fucked against a wall, but Harry was already arranging pillows and slowly pulling Draco away from the wall.


“I want to see you,” Harry moaned. Draco nodded and allowed himself to be lead on shaky legs to the makeshift bed.


Harry laid Draco down on his back, coming to lay on top of him. Draco noticed Harry’s body was shaking as well and looked up to find apprehension joining the lust in his eyes. Draco was startled to see Harry Potter so unsure, and pulled him into another kiss. He let his tongue map the inside of Harry’s mouth until the dark haired wizard melted back against his body.


They continued to kiss as Harry brought Draco’s legs up. He pulled away and took his cock in his hand. He looked at Draco with his sharp, green eyes. Draco nodded, and Harry leaned forward again, kissing Draco carefully as the head of Harry’s cock breached his entrance.


Draco was no blushing virgin, but he wasn’t used to someone of Harry’s size, so he hissed slightly at the intrusion. Harry froze and Draco gripped his shoulders hard, kissing down the other wizard’s neck. When he was ready, he whispered ‘go’ in Harry’s ear.


Harry entered Draco slowly, and when his hips hit the back of Draco’s thighs, Harry cried out, biting his lip so hard Draco was sure he would see blood. Harry felt so amazing inside of him that he was positive he’d be coming within seconds. When Harry started thrusting in and out with a quick, hard rhythm, Draco felt his orgasm curl in his abdomen.


“I’m going to come. Harry, please! Please.” Draco didn’t even know what he was asking for, he just needed release. Harry growled and bit down on Draco’s shoulder.


The burst of slight pain against his skin, the feeling of Harry’s sweating body between his legs, and the sharp rhythmic thrust of Harry’s hard cock against his prostate sent Draco quickly over the edge. His cock throbbed and his body tightened around Harry.


Harry let out a powerful, keening cry over Draco’s own epithets, and Draco vaguely noted that the lights were blinking in the room. With a shower of sparks, one of the lights popped, Draco spilled between their bodies, and he felt Harry empty into his channel. Draco arched is back up to try to take as much of Harry as he could.


They fell back beside each other on the oversized sofa, and Harry immediately cast another cleaning spell. He summoned a blanket and draped it over their bodies, before moving impossibly close and kissing up the side of Draco’s face. Draco closed his eyes and let him enjoy the open affection for a moment.


Draco had never shared a bed with anyone, and the fact that Harry was clinging to him like he feared Draco would leave made him wary and excited in the same breath. “Should I…should we…?” Draco stumbled over his words.


“Shag again? Too right we will! But first, sleep,” Harry said, throwing his leg over Draco’s. Draco smiled and feigned being overwhelmed by Harry’s weight.


“It’s okay if I sleep here?” Draco asked, unable to stop himself.


“Why in the world wouldn’t it be?” Harry sat up and looked into Draco’s eyes. When Draco couldn’t find the answer, Harry just lifted Draco’s hand to his lips and began to kiss the tip of every finger.


“I don’t know…I’m-“ Draco started, but he was interrupted.


“Exactly where you should be. Now, I’m knackered, and I intend to make you breakfast in the morning. So budge over,” Harry said, laying down and wrapping his arms around Draco’s torso.


Draco closed his eyes, held on to Harry’s clasped hands against his abdomen, and tried to convince himself that he deserved this.




And no i will never speak of ways 'cause i know you won’t try them

But all the weapons raining from the sky will be ours to embrace

And the cold sky will write us a song

But will we ever confess what we've done

Guess we're still kids on the run.


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December 2012


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