Where You Least Expect

Title: Where You Least Expect
Author: Flora
Rating: NC17
Challenge: The war is over and Draco goes into hiding in the Muggle world. Harry is assigned to find him.
Words: 8000
Notes: This kicked my ass. How can I possibly be unable to get these two to play? Finally, they cooperated, but dang it's a good thing the deadline moved. Thanks to lysrouge for the read-through.

---

Harry plunked down wearily into the plastic seat, sipping his soda and propping his feet on the adjacent chair. He took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose before putting them back on, staring idly into the street. He’d been working on this for weeks now, and he was no closer than he’d been to start. He refused, however, to offer anyone the satisfaction of giving up. With Percy Weasley overseeing the Retrieval teams, his contributions so far had been difficult and unimpressive—Percy kept giving him unimportant tasks, because, Harry assumed, he was still irritated about the whole inconvenient reappearance of Voldemort.

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. There was nothing for it, of course. He’d spoken to Arthur, just once, but Arthur had pulled him inside and closed the door, and quietly told him that he was very sorry, but he simply was not going to overrule Percy any time soon, fragile as their re-forming relationship still was. “I know you can work with him, Harry,” Arthur had said, clapping him on the shoulder and smiling. “You’re one of the easiest people I know to work with.

Percy didn’t seem to agree, and finally, after he’d found yet another giant toad beneath the house on Grimmauld Place and been set the same task again--hundreds had escaped, and they were recapturing them one by one--he’d exploded and told Percy he needed real work to do, even just capturing creatures more relevant to research, or he might as well sodding quit. Percy had smiled thinly, and Harry had known he was in trouble. Because Percy was going to do it. Was going to give him a real task, and not just any project. Not one he could do well, and still be useful. Not one suited to his six months of experience. Not one anyone else was being given--he wasn't even getting a partner. No, Percy had said. He was Harry Potter, Famous, and halfway to being an Auror now, even, Onetime Boy Who Shit!. Harry sat bolt upright and grabbed the pen out of his breast pocket to scribble on his newspaper.

He wasn’t really scribbling, of course. The “pen” was his wand, charmed to look like an ordinary everyday Muggle object, and at the moment he was muttering a Close Vision charm, frantically trying to focus it on the boy who’d just zipped past. The charm was disconcerting; it literally affected his own vision, zooming the scene in on his own retinas, but he set his left hand carefully on the table as the world spun, and rode out the sense of vertigo as he focused.

It was him.

It was Draco, terribly thin and even paler than he'd always been, but unmistakably him..

On a bicycle. With a bag and a helmet, legs pumping as he rode away.

Harry read the company name and number on the bag Draco carried, and cancelled the charm, sighing with relief as the table swam into view. He finished his soda quickly and stood, shoving his wand back into his shirt pocket and taking off at a fast walk for one of the Ministry’s dedicated Floos. He’d found him, and now he just needed to retrieve him.

Thank god. He'd found him.

--

The look on Malfoy's face when Harry was waiting next to his bike three days later was, he thought, worth the exhaustion of some eleven weeks looking and three days trailing. He'd been made a fool of before, and he hadn't been about to move in without looking before he leapt.

"H… Hello," Draco stuttered, looking at his feet, refusing to meet Harry's eyes, apparently deciding to try to bluff his way through.

"Nice bike."

"Thanks."

"Where'd you come up with cash for something like this, Malfoy?"

Draco started visibly at the use of his name, then bent to unlock the bike. Harry pushed one foot between the blond and his ride, standing so close he nearly stepped away reflexively when Draco straightened. He was glad he hadn't when Draco leaned away sharply himself, stumbling over a pedal and nearly falling. Harry caught him with the fast muscles honed chasing the Snitch, and pulled him upright. "It's okay," he said.

"No!" Draco's eyes widened as he shrugged free of Harry's grip and worked at pulling his lock from around his frame.

"Mal--Draco. It's okay. We found the spy."

"No. There had to be more than one."

"Yes," Harry said simply. "There were. And we have them."

"What if you're wrong. They told me. I. They said."

"It's all right. I told you. Draco, I've been watching you for three days. No one else has been following--me or you."

Draco's lips went white. "You've been following me? But if they--"

Harry reached out and took Draco's arm again. "Really. I'm good at what I do. Come on."

"I need to bring my bike."

Harry shrugged. "Hold on." He whispered the spell that caused eyes to slide off him, and then, once he was unnoticed, the one to render him literally invisible to anyone who didn't know he was there. "I'm still here. Can you see me?"

Draco nodded. "What--"

"Shh. Don't talk to the invisible man, Malfoy. People will think you've gone round the twist. Can you steer that with me riding behind you?"

"Dunno. Probably." A tiny smile played on Draco's lips, and Harry wondered what it meant, but shrugged off his concern and backed away to let Draco free the bike from the rack. He swung his leg over the seat and sat, as far back as he could. He waited for Draco to arrange himself astraddle the frame, then set his hands lightly at Draco's waist. He squeezed gently with his fingers, feeling the fabric of Draco's trousers gather in his fingers as it slid loosely on his hips.

"Go, then," Harry said. "I need you to come to the Ministry." Draco shuddered and Harry quickly added, "but if you want, we can talk at my flat for a bit first?"

Draco nodded, so Harry directed him to take a left at the third light, and concentrated on helping lean them correctly so they wouldn't fall. "It's not much further," he said, when Draco's legs slowed. He gripped the blond's waist tighter. "Another kilometer We can walk if you'd rather."

Draco shook his head and muttered, "Faster." He sped up again.

Outside Harry's building they both dismounted, and Harry stepped into the shadows to make himself visible again. "You can bring it up," he said, as Draco looked around for a place to lock his bike. "Or. Here. I can." He picked up the bike by the crossbar and held it over one shoulder, then started up the stairs, stopping on the third to wave Draco ahead of him. "Two floors up."

Draco stepped cautiously, as though he were afraid a sudden noise would bring down hordes of his father's old friends. Harry reached out an arm to snag the hem of his shirt, and he whirled, knocking both of them into the wall. "What?!"

"I was just going to say, it's okay. You're safe. Honestly, do you think they'd have me living somewhere not well warded?" He gestured to the scar that caused such a fuss, and grinned. He lowered his voice and went on, "Plus, it's not like I haven't added my own to what came with the place. There's…" he paused and looked up before he started climbing the stairs again. "no one here who shouldn't be. Sophie, up on my floor, is alone with her cat. Watching the telly, I think. Sarah, up here on the right, has Ned in her apartment--he's always there; I don't know why he even has his own flat. Stephen's not even up yet, though best I can tell his yappy little poodle rather desperately wants him to be. And Mrs Kingston is knitting." He looked over his shoulder at the land-lady's flat on the ground floor. "She does that a lot."

"Harry--"

"Oh." Harry lowered his voice further still. "They think my name is Stanley. Mrs Susan Kingston believes the letter S is terribly lucky."

Draco stopped at the top landing and turned. "Stanley?"

"Yeah?"

"No, I mean, Stanley?"

"Shush, you. And get inside before we have that conversation." Harry hoisted the bike down off his shoulder easily and leaned it against the wall as he retrieved his keys from his front pocket. The door opposite his opened and Draco curled against him unexpectedly, causing him to drop his keys. He bent to catch them before they hit the floor, which further startled Draco--damn that boy was jumpy--so that he put his hands on Harry's moving body. The upshot of this was a startled gasp from the open door.

Harry straightened up, Draco's hands still clutching at him, and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, winking and smiling, before turning to the girl. "Good morning, Sophie."

"Oh. I. You." She turned scarlet and looked at the floor. "I didn't know you were. Um."

"Sorry, love." Harry turned his smile to the girl, and Draco gaped but pulled him closer anyway. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She smiled shyly back. "I. Sorry. You're, um, very pretty together." Her cheeks flamed redder and she turned abruptly and fled back into her own flat.

Harry let go of Draco immediately. "Sorry. Seemed less likely to make you memorable than fumbling around to explain your hands on my arse. …why were your hands on my arse anyway?"

"They weren't. They fell where they would when you ducked down, and your arse got in their way."

"Right." Harry winked again. "Glad to hear you sounding more like the Draco I knew." He turned the key. "Now, get in here!"

Draco followed Harry into the flat, wheeling the bike next to him. "Where do you want this?"

"Eh. For now, just leave it there." Harry turned the deadbolt and cross past the back of the sofa and into the kitchen. "Tea?"

"Please. Potter, what… Why am I here?" Draco followed Harry into the kitchen, taking off his helmet, finally, and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"What?" Harry set the kettle on the stove and turned on the flame, then set about spooning tea leaves into a strainer. "We've been looking for you since the end of the war! You vanished."

"Yes. I did. Oddly, I had no great enthusiasm for going to prison."

"What? Why would you have gone to prison?"

"Because the only person who knew what I was doing was you. On the Order side, I mean. Obviously my father's lovely allies had figured out what I was doing. They sent a rather unmistakable message to that end. Anyway. Because the day I left you were ready to fucking kill me. Because there was no currency in going out on a limb for me, which is what you'd have been doing. What?"

Harry closed his mouth with effort. "You really think--" He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his mussed hair. "I wasn't ready to kill you. I was just surprised."

"Surprised. You screamed at me. You pushed me. You bit my lip. Not in that order."

"Draco. I really was just surprised. I never thought you would be. And then I thought twenty things at once, like what if you were in danger, and what if I was and what if you were doing it to make me trust you, which I did and I know you weren't. No. Shut up. I just. It took me ten minutes to work it out, and by then you'd run off. And then I couldn't come looking. No, I mean, I was ordered not to."

Draco frowned. "What?"

"I was needed." Harry rolled his eyes. "I was, really, but I could have taken a day to find you."

"You wanted to find me."

"Of course, you idiot. It's not like. It's not every day a beautiful blond up and kisses me. One who knows me and not just the name."

"…Oh."

"Have you been working as a messenger all this time?"

"Most of it."

"What else?" Harry's tone was conversational, but Draco hadn't forgotten the first question Harry had asked, so he answered that instead.

"The bike is my broom, you know. I transfigured it during the uproar when the Ministry wards came down. Thought most likely unless someone was actually taking time out to look for my magic in particular, they'd probably die before they could come for me anyway, with the amount of powerful shit being flung in all directions just then."

"Ah. I'd wondered. And, very true."

"I was nearly sure I couldn't use a broom whilst living among Muggles. And it looks like that because, well, good broom, good bike."

"Also quite true, that you couldn't go riding a broom. Only the best for a Malfoy? Where'd you learn to ride a bike?"

"Didn't."

"Of course. You're riding a broom. Why couldn't I see it?"

"Ah. It's not a glamour. True transfiguration, with the broom balance points kept in. I certainly wasn't going to go about unable to do something most eight-year-old Muggles can do. Though it does really make me pedal it, damn it. I'd realized by then that I couldn't turn it into a car or anything that would require a license--not that I have any idea how to drive a car. I don't exist, see, in Muggle record-keeping. The messenger place pays me in cash because of it."

"Right. Tea's ready." Harry filled two mugs carefully and brought them to the table with a plate of biscuits. He held out the plate. "You look like shit, you know. What have you been doing to yourself?"

Draco took four biscuits and shoved one in his mouth immediately. "The job doesn't really pay all that well."

"I would think you'd do okay. And, if my understanding is correct, get fucking brilliant tips." He grinned at Draco's expression, but Draco's face fell quickly.

"I'm um. Slow. And lost, a lot, though I'm getting better at that. So. A lot of times my tips make up some for getting docked for not getting enough done, and I get robbed somewhat often. Can't hex someone, of course, and can't report it--returning to the not existing? There's not a lot I can do about any of these things. Speaking of which, I need today's income to meet my lease."

"No you don't."

"No, I do. Really. It's. I have no savings, and I don't, um." He took two more biscuits and poured himself more tea.

"You're starving," Harry said bluntly. He reached across the table and pulled down the zip of Draco's grey hoodie without warning, and gasped at Draco's protruding collarbones. "Christ. You looked thinner, but. Draco! He dragged the near sleeve down Draco's thin arm, wincing at a deep purple bruise just under where his short sleeve ended before Draco managed to stand and pull away.

"It's nothing."

Harry stood and stepped toward Draco, who backed away as Harry approached, back into the living room and toward the entry hall. "It's not nothing. What happened?"

"Just. Um, the job doesn't pay all that well."

"What else are you doing," Harry asked.

"Only other skill I have," Draco said with a shrug that tried to be casual. "When I have to."

"Which is?" Harry pressed, stepping closer, pressing Draco against the wall.

"It's okay."

"It's not." Harry lunged forward and pulled Draco back toward him, cradling him gently. "But I won't ask again. Tell me if you want to. For now, soup." He paused. "And no, you don't need today's income. You do understand you never need to go back to work? You aren't in legal trouble. You can--Draco?"

Draco's knees buckled. "I hadn't thought about it. I. I need to sit back down?"

Harry picked Draco up and walked around the couch, sitting down expediently with Draco in his lap. "Okay?"

"I can go home?"

"Not …home, exactly. But back to the Wizarding world. Where your skills are more likely relevant."

Draco shuddered. "No, I imagine the skill I've been using is relevant everywhere. Can I. If we're going back?"

"Yes?"

"Can I take a shower? I don't have hot water. In my room. I wash, I mean. I'm clean, but. It's not the same."

"God, Draco. Do you need help?"

"No! No, I'll be fine."

"On the left, then," Harry said, letting Draco up and pointing down the hall. He waited until the blond had traversed the twelve feet before standing and returning to the kitchen to start on the soup.

--

The soup was ready in fifteen minutes--just heated from a tin, but at least there were vegetables and meat--so Harry assembled a bowl and spoon on a tray, added a glass of fresh milk, and carried it to the bathroom. He tapped on the door. "Draco?"

There was no answer, so he tapped again.

When there was still no answer, he turned the knob and opened the door. As he'd expected, Draco was asleep in the bath, wet hair dripping on his shoulders. He turned and crossed to his bedroom, set the tray on the side table, and wrapped it in a small heating charm, then went back to the bathroom. "Draco?"

"Hmmh?"

"Come on. Wake up. Here." Harry picked up the washcloth out of the water and gently scrubbed Draco's chest and shoulders, biting his tongue about the bruises and scrapes he saw. Draco winced away from him and grabbed back the cloth, scrubbing more harshly at his body and face, opening the freshest of the scabs. "Go away!"

"You were asleep. I can't leave you asleep in the water."

"Fine. Turn around." Harry turned, and Draco stood to step out of the water. "Towels under the sink?"

"Yes."

Draco dried quickly and wrapped a towel around his waist, then jumped when Harry spun and picked him up again. "You. Are sleeping. Christ. I can't believe this is my fault."

"What?"

"You ran because I was an idiot. I'm sorry. Come on. I have soup." He carried Draco into his room and set him on the bed, plumping the pillows behind him and fussing until he ate the last bite of soup.

--

When Draco woke, he experienced a long moment of panic. There was someone. Here. In the bed. Curled up against his back. He never fell asleep! Shit. He sat up quickly, head spinning, before he realized two important things. He was wearing a towel, and the hand against his waist was neither possessive nor cruel, but protective and gentle. Slowly his brain caught up with what his body apparently already knew. He was here with Harry, and Harry wasn't angry at him. And never had been. He looked over his shoulder at Harry, sleeping peacefully on top of the blanket, and slipped out of the bed. He returned to the bathroom, intending to retrieve his clothes, but they were nowhere to be found. He did find a note where he'd left them: Don't go. --H. "Like I could, in this," he muttered.

He walked out into the front room, looking for a clock. The afternoon sun was shining in through the window, and a second note was on the table.

Draco:

You're even tireder than I thought. I worked on your bruises a bit--I said I wouldn't ask, not that I wouldn't worry!--so I hope they feel better. They teach us some general healing charms in the Auror training since we can't always--you probably know that. Anyway. They look better. Sort of. There are a lot of them.

You seemed to like the soup, earlier. There's more, in cans in the pantry. I'll assume you've learned to use a can opener and a stove? I hope. If you haven't, please wake me. Really. Or, if you find something else you'd rather have in the icebox, please do. Or. Um. Anyway.

I really never was angry. I hope you know that now. I was surprised, startled, astonished, taken aback, thrilled, baffled… never angry.

--Harry

Draco set the note back down on the table and tucked the tail of his towel in more firmly. He stood for a moment, considering, then opened the door of the icebox. Unlike his own icebox in his tiny flat, this one contained a great deal of food. Eggs. Cheese. Mushrooms and peppers and apples and bread, jars of marmalade and strawberry jam, milk and butter and bacon. He stared at all this and wished he had the first clue how to make an omelet. Or that Harry had a house-elf, which seemed unlikely.

The knock at the door startled him away from his musings. He closed the door and went into the front hall. “Who’s there?”

“Sophie.” She sounded puzzled.

“Sophie?”

“Right. Is something wrong with your peephole?”

Draco thought about this for a moment, eventually concluding this must be the tiny lens embedded in the door. It was, in fact, the girl he’d met on the landing, earlier. She was holding something wrapped in plastic. He opened the door, just a crack.

“Is Stanley here?”

“Um.” Draco managed not to ask who that was, but in the time he paused, she’d pushed the door open a bit more, enough to see the faded bruises on his chest, and to see he was wearing nothing but the towel. “He. He’s here, but sleeping.”

“Oh. Um. I see. So you. He didn’t do that to you, did he?”

Draco grinned. “Nope. He—“ he realized just in time he couldn’t say he fixed them “he’s good to me. I just have a rough line of work, is all. What do you have there?”

“Oh. I was just bringing. Sometimes I bring him biscuits.”

“Really.” Draco arched an eyebrow. “Ones you made?”

“Oh. Well. Yeah.”

Draco opened the door further. “I don’t suppose you know anything about cooking omelets?”

“What?”

“Well. I thought if you knew how to bake lovely boked goods…” he lifted the plastic and snagged one, took a big bite, and grinned. “And these are lovely, you might know how to make an omelet. I’m terrible in the kitchen.”

Sophie stepped into the living room. “As it happens, I do.”

“Excellent. Would you. I was going to wake him up with a surprise, you see, and I can see he has the ingredients, but I don’t really…”

“Say no, um, I don’t know your name.”

“D—Daniel. Daniel Mallory.”

“Sophie. You knew that.”

“Um, so. I should put on some—“

“Go ahead. I’ll just get started.”

Draco went back in the bedroom and closed the door behind him. “Harry. Stanley. Whatever your name is!”

“Wha?”

“I need clothes.”

Harry sat up. “I don’t want you to leave!”

“Shh! Sophie’s in the kitchen.”

“You let Sophie in? Dressed like that?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. Shut it. She’s ‘helping me’ make an omelet.”

Harry grinned. “There are some running shorts in the bottom drawer. Those might work, and prevent either of us from ravishing you.” He saw Draco’s tiny shudder and changed the subject. “Also, why was Sophie here?”

Draco shrugged. “She said she sometimes brings you biscuits.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “She hasn’t before. Ever. She’s in the flat?”

“Yeah.” Draco froze, one leg in the knit shorts. “Do you think…”

Harry buckled his belt and stuck his glasses on his nose. “Dunno. I. shit!" The bedroom door crashed in without warning, and Sophie stood there, wand at the ready.

“Fuck,” said Draco succinctly, thinking fast as he dragged the shorts up over his waist. “What the hell is going on around here, Stanley?”

“His name’s not Stanley. And yours isn’t Daniel.”

“Says so on my papers.”

“Right.”

“It’s not like I have them with me to prove it.”

“No. You have nothing with you but a magical bike and a famous face.”

“You must have me confused with someone else, love.” He turned to Harry and obviously mouthed, "magical?!"

“I don’t. And Potter, don’t you think about going for your wand.”

Harry grinned at Draco, a perfect ‘humor-the-crazy-lady’ grin. “My, er, wand is safely tucked inside my trousers just now. And I have to say, 'going for it' is not something I tend to think about while being threatened with a …dowel." His eyes were perfectly steady even as he frantically tried to figure out how he was going to get out of this. Thinking about how it had happened in the first place was going to have to wait for later.

"It's a wand and you know it, Potter. I knew you'd find him eventually. He's going to make me a rich, rich woman." She eyed Draco up and down. "Too bad I can't just marry him for his money."

Draco nodded. "Yes. I imagine that would be a worthwhile endeavor. I know there's a common saying about being too rich and too thin, but sweetheart, I have to tell you, this lovely slenderness of mine is not a result of great wealth." He frowned. "So, was the dowel in the kitchen? And, if you wanted to threaten me with it, why didn't you do so at the door?" He looked her in the eye, stepping toward her as he spoke. "I mean, I can't imagine what you'd want me for, but if you were set on…"

"Stop! Right there! No closer. And I couldn’t, not until I got inside his sodding wards."

Draco stopped and put up his hands. "So, what did you want with me." He really hoped he was providing enough of a distraction.

"You're coming with me.”

Draco raised one eyebrow, casting upon her the look that had been described to him once as 'that look that could frost over hot tea.' She was unmoved, but he forged ahead. "I don't think I want to do that."

"I have the wand!" She was agitated now, and Draco had no idea why she hadn't just cast the Imperius Curse and got it over with.

"Right. I see that. I see you have the stick. Did you start those omelets? I could swear I smell something burning."

That did the trick. She failed to control the reflex to look toward the front room, and in the instant her head was turned, Harry had his wand in hand and had her disarmed. He chose the simple expedient of Petrifying her, then stepped up behind Draco, still in the doorway, and wrap his arms around the blond's waist. "I'm so sorry. I have no idea how--Sophie lived here when I moved in. It never occurred to me to--"

"It's okay, love," Draco said. His tone was calm and even, but he was shaking dreadfully and Harry wrapped his arms tighter.

"Daniel?"

"Seemed like if you needed to not call yourself Harry, a perfectly common name, I probably ought not introduce myself as Draco."

"Good thinking. Not that it helped. You okay?"

Draco broke away and crouched to look at the girl on the floor, with Harry right behind him. "I'll live. Ah, I was, at one time, told you were a Legilimens?"

"More or less. Not like Snape. Or Dumbledore."

"Yes, but the point would be, can you see what on earth she wanted to do to me?"

"It's unethical."

Draco stared. "True. On the other hand, since she was threatening us with a wand from a position that amounts to one of espionage, I imagine you'd be justified."

Harry chewed his lip and thought about this, then loosened his grip. "Turn around?"

"What?"

"Turn around."

Draco turned, and Harry continued. "Because to do so will require me to get into her head, which will mean I’m not especially present in this room, which means you might opt to run. Which would be fair enough, considering."

"I won't."

"I hope not. But I don't plan to let you ever leave me again thinking you have to." He stood, pulling Draco up with him, and leaned forward to brush his lips over Draco's. "Okay?"

"Mmm."

Harry pressed his lips softly against Draco's again, letting him set the pace, tightening his arms around his slim shoulders when he opened his mouth and swept his tongue in against Harry's. He let the kiss last a long time, he thought; not that he was attending to time, but finally, he drew away enough to separate their lips with a soft damp noise.

"You play dirty," Draco said. "I never knew you had it in you."

Harry winked, hating the tightness in Draco's tone but unwilling to point it out if Draco wouldn't, and knelt back down next to the Petrified women on his floor. "Legilimens!"

He stood several minutes later, and turned to Draco in shock. "She's. Not Sophie, for one thing. I don't know the spell to force a Metamorphmagus to revert to self, but she. The real Sophie lived here when I moved in."

Draco grimaced. "And was a nice girl, I imagine?"

"Very. I can't believe I didn't notice when--"

"Don't. You've had plenty on your mind."

"I. Not that much."

"Yes, that much. Do you have a shirt I can use?"

"Oh. I forgot. Third drawer. Help yourself." Harry stepped over the woman's supine form and went into the kitchen, mechanically putting away eggs, cheese and ham. He started when he turned and saw Draco had followed him. "Are you still hungry?"

"No."

"Me either."

"You need to report on her."

"I do. But I don't want to leave you here with her."

“I’ll be fine.”

“And you’ll stay? Or come with?”

“I imagine coming with isn’t the best idea. What if there’s someone else watching you?”

Harry frowned. “But you’ll stay?”

“Were you listening to her? Your protections on this place are good. She couldn’t come in without being let in. I’m safest here.”

Harry’s frown eased slightly.

“Besides,” Draco said. He looked bravely determined, though his tone was light. “That’s only the practical reason. Impractically speaking, I have a lot to look forward to, I imagine. I hope.” He stepped close to Harry again and nibbled gently at Harry’s lower lip. “Am I right?”

Harry kissed him back. “Definitely.” You don’t let anyone in, right? Not even if you think it's me?” He pressed another gentle kiss against Draco's temple.

Draco blinked at the implication someone might impersonate Harry, but recovered quickly and nodded. “Right.”

Harry stepped away reluctantly and levitated not-Sophie’s body, directing it to the front door and stepping through. He let the body drop, clunking on the carpet, and reinforced every ward he had put on the place, twice, then cast a misdirection charm on the figure floating in the air ahead of him and set off for the Ministry.

--

Draco didn’t dare use magic while Harry was gone, so there was nothing he could do about the shattered door, but he did take down the remains—simple enough once he figured out the hinges—and drag it into the spare room. He piled the fragments on top of it and knelt in the hall to pick up the smaller bits before hunting in closets and under the sink, looking for one of the suction things he’d seen the girl use on the stairs of his building. He found something that might be one, and after some experimentation he figured out that it was, so he vacuumed up the splinters, then ate a cold supper of cheese and bread, and ran himself another bath. He was still soaking quietly when Harry returned. He nearly jumped out of the tub when Harry knocked on the bathroom door.

"Oh!" The water splashed around him and before he quite realized what he'd done, he dragged the towel into the tub with him. "Um. Just a minute. I. Just a minute." He stood hastily and stepped out of the tub, looking under the sink for another towel before he opened the door.

"Sorry. Did I interrupt?"

Draco gaped, then realized what Harry must mean. "No. I. You just startled me."

"You startle easily, I think. Okay, then? Did you eat?"

Draco nodded, and followed Harry back into the kitchen, idly musing that here he was back in the kitchen with a towel around his waist, right where he'd been before everything went crazy just a few hours earlier. "I took off your door."

"I saw. Good idea. I'll see if I can fix it later, though really, what I can do here is a bit limited."

"I think I got the splinters." Draco leaned against the wall. "So you shouldn't step on any." He indicated his own pink toes. "At least, I didn't run across any more."

Harry grinned and got out eggs. "Thanks. What'd you eat?"

"Bread. Cheese."

Harry got out the bacon once again, and a pan, and three minutes later the aroma of frying bacon and peppers wafted into the dining area. Harry stood and chopped mushrooms, then beckoned Draco to shred cheese. "And don't get your knuckles!"

"Why would I--ouch! Right."

"I take it you haven't done much cooking for yourself?"

"No. Usually cheaper to get something that didn't require--I've had a lot of loaves of bread."

Harry wrinkled his nose and cracked eggs into a dish. "This'll be better."

He served the first omelet to Draco and made him sit and start eating while he made the second. "I'll look at your bruises again in a bit, if you like. They hurt?"

"Not much," Draco shrugged, just a beat too late. His face had gone still when Harry mentioned his injuries, so Harry again changed the subject.

"So." He sprinkled cheese and grabbed a second plate. "Things really are going pretty well, as far as recovery and rebuilding. A lot of shit was damaged. I mean, you know that, I'm sure. But it's going pretty well. I've been in Retrieval, which is a pretty broad term, for a little over eight…nine? Huh. Just about nine months now. Mostly Percy--Weasley--makes me retrieve toads. And owls. And once a wand that was still sparking. Little stuff. It wasn't until I threw a tantrum that Percy let me come looking for you. I've been wanting to for ages, but I rather thought you'd not want to be found, so I was afraid to come after you unofficially."

Draco stared at his omelet. "I imagine you needed to keep your job."

"Fuck that," Harry said gruffly. "Seriously. I have enough money to get by, if I need to. No, I was just too big a fucking coward to just tell Percy to fuck himself and come find you. Draco? Are you. Are you all right?"

Draco looked up from his omelet sometimes during Harry's speech, which grew louder with each word, and by the time he mentioned coming to find Draco, he was nearly shouting. Draco was horrified to realize he was curling away, his stomach muscles trying to crawl through his kidneys as his ribs pulled involuntarily back toward the chair frame. "I'm fine." He deliberately relaxed his tense muscles and put another delicate bite of egg in his mouth. "This is really good."

Harry set down his fork and reached for Draco's free hand. "I'm glad you like it," he said, squeezing once gently before retrieving the fork and finishing his own. He shoved the last bite into his mouth before Draco was half done, and stood to take his plate to the sink. "I'll find you something to sleep in." He set went back into his room, opening drawers and rooting around for something that wouldn't fall off Draco's rail-thin frame.

"Harry?"

"Um, I'll see if I can fix that door for you." He found a light shirt and tossed it over.

"Why?" Draco caught the shirt, but didn't put it on.

"Give you some privacy?"

"I." Draco stepped closer, stopping inches from Harry's hip. "I don't actually want privacy. Just because I jump doesn't mean. I mean, I can sleep in the other room if you like?"

"No, I'll take it. That bed is crap, and you look like you might break. And I should think you'd want privacy, given you have at this point exactly no reason to trust me. Here." He handed over grey knit shorts with a drawstring. "I'm sorry about earlier. I can't believe I didn't know… Snape poked around and found the remains of the block--well, the redirect, I suppose, that she'd put up. I'd have seen if it had ever once occurred to me to look for it--it was certainly easy enough to break through, once I knew she was trying to hurt you."

Draco bent to put his feet through the waist of the shorts and dragged them up over his hips, then tossed aside the towel. "It's okay, really. You were obviously as surprised as I was. And I do trust you. Um. Did you want to look at the bruises again?" He wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands as he asked, but he didn't cross them in front of him, and didn't form them into fists. He couldn't help but drop his gaze to his toes, but he looked up again quickly.

Harry hooked a finger under his chin and looked him in the eye. "Not if it makes you nervous. Or embarrassed, or whatever it is. I just want you to not hurt."

"I know." Draco stood still for a moment, then dragged the shorts back down two inches, so they rested low on his hips, and crawled back onto the still-rumpled bedcovers to lie on his belly. "You can look."

"Can I touch?"

"Yes," Draco said, his voice muffled by the quilt, "you can touch."

Harry sat down at the foot of the bed, twisting at the waist to run one hand up Draco’s leg and back down slowly before rolling and pushing up in one motion to land snuggled against Draco’s side. He cuddled him close and pressed his lips between his shoulder blades, then set about running his hands over Draco’s back and shoulders, firmly, smoothly, gently.

Draco moaned.

“Not hurting you, am I?”

“Not exactly,” Draco groaned. “Not exactly.”

Harry kept smoothing firm strokes down Draco’s back, hips, arse, feeling the blond relax, Finally, he set about touching bruises and sending a second thread of healing energy into them. A yellowed one, old, high on one shoulder, that nearly dissipated entirely at Harry’s touch. A deeper one, greenish brown, up under the hairline behind his ear on one—no, bigger on one side, but present on both, as though a hand had gripped there. Harry swallowed and caused those to fade, as well, then went to work on the abrasion down the left side of Draco’s spinal groove, then nudged until he rolled over to work on the fresh dark contusions just above the waist band of the shorts, at the crest of each hipbone, sharp and dark on the peak of the bone, fading to grey-blue off to both sides. He set to healing that, then went to rubbing Draco’s thighs, shins, calves, all the way down to his toes.

“Mmm. Feels nice.”

Harry grinned and came around the side of the bed to pick Draco up. “So you don’t have to get up and get all tense again,” he explained, winking. He moved him up to set his head on the pillow, nudging him onto his side as he pulled his arms out from under him. “I don’t know about you, but nap or no? I’m damned tired.” He turned to leave the room, dousing the light, but Draco’s call stilled him.

“Stay?”

“Did you not want to be alone?”

Harry strained to hear Draco’s answer. “No, it’s that I want you to stay.”

Harry had no ready reason to argue, so he kicked off his shoes and dragged his jumper over his head, then headed around the bed to crawl under the covers. Draco rolled up against him immediately, landing so his back molded perfectly to Harry’s chest, his head resting on Harry’s bicep. Harry hesitantly set his other hand on Draco’s hip, and lay there for a long moment in the dark.

“Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“Brat.” Harry slid his hand up Draco’s side and down inside his waistband, pushing the shorts out of the way. He spread his fingers to align perfectly with the five tiny round blue marks, and stopped. Draco tensed against him, but he didn’t move.

“Harry.”

“Draco.” He didn’t move his hand, except to soothe away these bruises as well.

“You aren’t asking because you know?” It wasn’t a question, really, but he asked anyway.

Harry slid his hand back up and draped his arm around Draco’s belly, holding him close. “It was hard not to see, before.”

“I didn’t want that, you know. I mean, to. I mean, I didn’t want the, uh, evidence, either, but…”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I told you I could sleep in the other room. Or, if you want to leave…”

Harry didn’t say anything, just squeezed wordlessly, and Draco relaxed just a bit before going on. “If you change your mind I won’t be angry.” He closed his eyes and waited for sleep for a long time, aware that he wasn't the only one waiting.

--

Harry woke before dawn to find Draco had turned to face him, their legs tangled together. He felt Draco breathing against the hollow between his collarbones, and sleepily, without thinking about it, bent his neck to kiss the top of Draco’s head. He did it again, then found himself reaching between them to put a hand under Draco’s chin and tip his face up to gently brush his lips across his brow, his eyelids, his nose, and the then Draco was awake, or partly awake, running his hand between Harry’s ribs and arm to cup the back of his head and kiss him back: hinge of jaw, chin, corner of mouth. Finally, when neither of them could put it off longer, their lips touched, briefly then again. Before either of them quite realized they were really awake, they’d pulled flush, Draco’s thigh between Harry’s, fingers tangled in each other’s hair.

Draco pulled away first. "Are we. Do you. I have no idea how to have this conversation."

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked, dipping his head for another kiss.

"I've never done this before. I mean. Shit." Draco pulled away. "I want to feel you inside me, and obviously, you know I've done that, but."

"But you've never wanted to." Harry paused, then shrugged. "Tell me to stop if it's wrong."

"No! It won't be wrong, I just meant. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Me either." Harry grinned, so that Draco could see the glint of his teeth in the dim light just starting to come in the window. "We'll figure it out together, then."

"You've never. But. Harry Potter! Scar! Quidditch! Most popular mmph!" He couldn't continue as Harry thrust his tongue between open lips and kissed him quiet.

"Prat. No, I've never. Didn't ever really want to be a notch in someone's belt, you know, and it always felt like it would be."

"Never wanted that either."

"I know." Harry slid his hand down Draco's healed chest and under the waistband of the shorts that still rode low, then nudged Draco onto his back. "So tell me what you like. Tell me what I do right." He rolled until he was partly on top of Draco, and sucked gently below his ear. "Do you want me to do this harder?"

Draco whimpered. "Yes. A little. Shit. Yes, like that."

Harry moved lower, to lap quick gentle strokes in the hollow between Draco's collarbones. He liked that, too, and Harry stayed with it for a long minute, now quick tiny nips, now long slow strokes of his tongue, each stroke starting lower on Draco's chest until he was bathing him from navel to sternum, his hands playing gently across ticklish ribs as he moved ever lower until finally Draco, writhing now with want, pushed him off and arched up to take the shorts all the way off. He lay back down, legs spread in invitation, but Harry just grinned and rolled back into place, on his belly between Draco's spread thighs, and went back to work with his tongue, lapping at the tip of Draco's cock until neither of them could stand it, then moving lower again to press just below Draco's balls and drag up, tongue following nose over the soft flesh of his balls and the firm heat of his prick, again and again.

"Harry! Fuck! If you want. Do you not want…?"

"I want," Harry said, opening his lips to surround the tip of Draco's cock. "Derfnnitly wanngt"

"You can't talk with my. Fuck. Do that again." Draco arched up off the bed into Harry's mouth, and Harry grinned and slid his lips up and down again until Draco began to plead. "Please. Can't wait. Please!"

Harry pulled away. "You don't have to."

"Yes. Want to. Need to." Draco arched again, but Harry rolled away, landing on his hands and knees beside him. He leaned down to kiss: his belly, his ribs, the invisible imprints of fingers that had been livid hours earlier, and then he rolled onto his back, arms out in invitation, and Draco desperately rolled onto him. "Please get inside me! Please!"

"Listen," Harry began, arranging Draco on him so they were chest to chest, cocks rubbing swollen together. "I don't not want to. Believe me." He thrust up once, sliding his cock along Draco's and nearly sobbing at how good it felt. "But damn. I just healed up bruises, and I don't especially want to make more. And I'm afraid once I started …I've been waiting a long, long time, Draco."

Draco smiled and slid their cocks together again, then flattened against Harry's chest to seal their lips together. He straddled Harry's waist and hooked his calves around Harry's thighs as he leisurely explored Harry's mouth again, and then he sat up. "Wand?"

Harry smirked, but pointed at the side table. Draco leaned to fetch Harry's wand and recited a charm that dripped from the wand onto Harry's prick, sticky, wet, slick, and warm. He forgot to wonder as Draco put his hands on Harry's chest and levered himself up, then slid down slowly onto Harry's slick cock, moaning all the way.

Harry couldn't help but agree, closing his eyes and holding himself ruthlessly still as Draco slid up and down him. He gathered the sheets in his fists, and arched, and stayed, whole body wound tight as every ounce of concentration centered on his groin, on the pulse he could feel in his cock, on the slick sliding warmth. He opened his eyes again and was immediately glad; the expression on Draco's face as he came, spurting stream after stream onto Harry's belly, was enough to send him over the edge all by itself.

Draco slumped down flat again, molded to Harry's chest, panting. "So. Good. God. Mmm."

"Mmhm," Harry agreed.

"I waited a long time, too, you know."

"…Wha?" Harry wanted to stay like this, resting together, forever.

"It's not like I enjoyed it, when it wasn’t you."

"You mean you never…? Christ, Draco. I'm never letting go of you again."

"'Kay." Draco yawned and snuggled closer into the space between Harry's neck and shoulder.

Harry yawned back, but tried to nudge Draco up to clean them up. "Gonna be a mess, love. No fun to wake up with."

Draco didn't move. "Worth it," he mumbled sleepily.

Harry gave up and rolled them onto their sides, still tangled together, and went to sleep.