Silent Chaos

Chapter 1 - What's Love Got To Do With It?

'What's looove...

Got to do...got to do wit' it...

Did you think about us?

Did you think about trust?...'

Music drummed through his veins, his body moving with it almost of its own accord, grooving slowly to the sensual beat. Closing his eyes, he let out a soft breath, moving on the dance floor between all the other people, feeling eyes upon his lithe, slender body - and revelling in every moment of the covert attention. Draco's torso was clad in a sheer, black t-shirt that hugged his upper body and ended just over the edge of his black, leather pants, letting his hips and rear be seen rather well within those tight pants as he moved through the dance.

A sensual dance...a deep rhythm...its very essence beat within his soul as deeply as any magic working ever had...if not more deeply. He had come here just for that: to let the beat wash him away, wash his thoughts far away - and his feelings even farther. It was when he danced that he forgot, it was when his body moved and his soul was wrapped in tendrils of deep rhythms that he was able to rest. Odd, how dancing had come to him after he graduated from Hogwarts. Odd...how everything came clear after he graduated. A slight frown furrowed his smooth brow, delicate strands of platinum blonde hair covering that pensive frown. Indeed, he ought not to be pensive, he reminded himself, then sighed, though the restless sound was lost in the loud music. He had come here to forget, afterall.

But how could he? How could he when the object of his attention was dancing not very far away? Silver eyes opened slightly to gaze in the direction of the other dancer, then flickered away again as this 'other' turned his gaze in Draco's direction. Turning slowly and swaying his hips, Draco could not help but feel short of breath as he felt the eyes of the other man upon him. It was as if his blood turned to hot mercury, pumping through his veins at an increased speed and constricting his throat. The music slowly changed to another song and he relaxed a little bit as his body shifted into the slower dance, though it was no less sensual...no less exhilarating. That is why he chose this club to go to so many times these nights - the music was always to his taste, the beat always so pure and gripping. As he turned again and let his arms rise in the air slowly, weaving together, then gradually lowering again, he once again caught sight of 'him', and his thoughts wandered just as his traitorous eyes did.

To think...he once hated him. Potter - no...Harry. Harry...he hated him. They hated each other and had quite a rivalry going. How could he have hated him? How? Now, it was unthinkable. Now, everything that he ever did to Harry seemed disgusting and unthinkable - as if it was in another life that he inflicted all that pain upon the black haired boy. Indeed, all of his thoughts of Harry changed when that embarrassing - yet mind-opening - episode at the end of their last year happened. His mind shied away from those thoughts quickly and he looked away as the groove seemed to have been ruined for him by his own dark ponderings.

Weaving his body slowly out of the crowd, he made his way towards the light-decorated, long bar dejectedly. Slumping his body into one of the low-back stools, he rested his elbows on the blue-marble top and leaned forward to shout 'tequila!' to the bartender over the music. Ah, the music. For tonight, he felt that it had lost its mystical charm to him, and thus, he contented himself by looking down one side of the bar, then the other in search of someone he knew. Maybe Hermione had made her way to the club tonight, he thought hopefully, then sighed as he did not seem to recognize her anywhere. Such a sweet thing, Hermione - once you got to know her. Odd, he mused to himself again with wry humour. Odd...how things have indeed changed. Before, he would never have considered 'Granger' to be an acquaintance, especially not a friend, like she had become now. Alas, all friends seemed to have abandoned him tonight. Receiving the tequila with a faintly polite smile, he pushed a few coins to cover the drink's price to the bar tender and turned slowly on the rotating stool, resting his elbows on the bar and leaning his back to the edge of it. Maybe he could get drunk tonight (he certainly had quite a few tequilas already)...Maybe he should. It has been...what...three months since he saw Harry last? Probably around there...and he never had thought that he would see the dark-haired, emerald-eyed boy again. And yet...and yet...

His eyes strayed to Harry again and he sighed, sipping at the tequila slowly. And yet, here he was, dancing the night away and looking so...so carefree, so happy - or at least, as close to happy as he ever got. Pensive as always, he had only a small smile upon his lips, though his eyes...oh those eyes, those eyes. How they drove bittersweet daggers into Draco's chest, into his very being and existence - even though they did not look at him, did not meet his own dove-grey eyes. And when they looked over - though Draco thought it must be accident, it must be simply a normal motion and not meant for him! - Draco was quick to turn his sad eyes away to his drink or to a completely different part of the crowded room. But oh, how he longed to look into Harry's eyes again, to melt into them...to get lost in the vision of molten, emerald flames and all of their deep, vivid visions of emotion and knowledge and - and Harry. Harry. The only eyes he ever wanted to look into, the only eyes he wanted to be drawn into as lips meet -

Shaking his head to clear the vision, he let out a soft breath of exasperation and rubbed his left hand through his hair. What happened? How could such hate turn into...into what? Lust? Yes...there was lust, oh how much lust there truly was. But what else? What else? Love? No...it couldn't be love. Definitely not love. He couldn't love Harry - he simply couldn't! It would be going against everything that he ever thought to be right, against everything that he thought was possible and simply sane. No. It could not be love, and if it was, he would not let it be love.

With his mind quite made up, he sipped from the tequila and glanced towards Harry once more - catching his eyes squarely and gasping faintly as Harry smiled. And not just smiled - no...he smiled to Draco...

...and started making his way towards the blonde wizard.

* * *

Green Rose was an elite dance club and bar that Harry Potter liked to frequent at times. Hermione had recommended it to him, saying that she liked to go there to relax and unwind after work. So one night, Harry went with her and found out just how good the club was with its rhythmical, mind-clearing music, its good service, and a large array of drinks. Not that Harry liked to drink - goodness no! He came here just for the music...well...mostly for the music. A drink now and then never did hurt him. Especially now, when he was getting rather disturbingly...delicious flashes of fantasy about someone. Someone whom he had come to despise throughout his stay at Hogwarts. Someone - whom he found irresistible and attractive in such an electric way that he thought he would explode if he saw him again.

So for the past few months, he had been avoiding Draco Malfoy as if he were a Dementor. Tonight, he went dancing again to relax his over-active imagination, thinking that Draco would not be at the club. Herm had been careful to inform him of all the times that Draco was or was not around there - but alas, she had forgotten to do that tonight and Harry had taken a chance, believing that the risk was far outweighed by the gain he would have if he could only forget for a few hours. Alas, when he saw Draco coming into the club in that...that scandalously gorgeous outfit, he thought that he would indeed rather face a Dementor than Draco. From that moment on, his thoughts ran in circles as he gave up his body to the dance, moving to the music in a pleasingly sensual manner, the silk of his silver shirt stroking over his sensitive flesh. Should he say hello? Should he disappear? Should he...should he make his way towards Draco and rub up against him and seduce him? Soft, white cheeks flushed at that thought and he closed his emerald eyes, swallowing hard to calm himself.

Calm? Calm?? he furiously thought at himself. How the hell can he be calm when he was growing quite aroused at the very thought of Draco? Grateful now for the tight, faded jeans that he wore, he tried to dance the heat in his blood off just as one of his favourite songs came on.

'What's loooove...

Got to do?

Got to do wit' it?

It's about us...

It's about trust, baby.'

Smiling a small smile, Harry moved to the music sensually, watching Draco out of the corner of his eyes whenever the blonde was not looking at him - as he seemed to do quite a bit tonight to Harry's amazement. Indeed, he was amazed about many things tonight...how he felt Draco's presence when he came in before he saw him, how he was catching Draco looking at him so much...and how he and Draco seemed to move in almost the same manner and groove. Now, if only they could get close and dance together -

No. No. He must not think of that, he chided himself and turned his head away from Draco's damned sensual body and movements. Perhaps...perhaps he could say hello. Prove it once and for all to himself that Draco had nothing for him, and that he had nothing more for Draco other than a bloody dangerous fascination. He was as fascinated with Draco, he decided, as a hypnotized mouse was with a snake. A snake...A slight smirk crossed Harry's soft lips. Slytherin. Snake. Heh.

Closing his eyes, he frowned slightly, then slowly let the rhythm take over his body and mind, flowing with the music in a dance that he thought was a little bit too noticeable, a little bit too sexy - or is that sexual? Shuddering inwardly, he moved slowly, changing his step and rhythm as the music melted into another song, though he did not like that one too much. Looking towards Draco through his lashes, he swallowed hard, watching the beautiful man dance so well...so strangely well...although he seemed to hate dancing before. But suddenly, Draco stopped and walked away, mingling with the crowd until Harry could see no more than his damn beautiful hair...hair that he would not mind winding his fingers through if he ever got the chance. The rotating, sparkling, green and blue lights of the club gave Draco's hair an ethereal shine and texture, making him look anything but human...anything but the haughty wizard he was. No...to Harry, he had looked like a siren, dancing...dancing and calling to his soul in a way that no one and nothing ever had before.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and finished the dance by moving closer to the bar where he saw Draco move to. He might as well talk to the object of his attraction...just to say hello, perhaps...just to get his feelings straightened out and to assure himself again that Draco was nothing more than grateful for what happened at the end of their graduation year.

Looking towards Draco again, he caught his eye and smiled to him, making his way towards the blonde wizard. Gazing into those grey eyes was like...falling...falling into mercury, falling into an endless sea...an endless sea of thoughts, of sadness, of passion...betrayal and pain...How Draco was hurt...and how Harry wished to heal him. Snapping out of those thoughts when he moved close enough to Draco, he leaned forward to speak to him and thought...imagined perhaps, that Draco drew in his breath sharply...but not in a bad way at all.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, not shouting, but in a voice loud enough to be heard above the music. His eyes - oh, traitorous eyes! - flickered over Draco's high cheekbone, delicate ear lobe...silken skin...and he almost shuddered with desire to touch that skin...to kiss that cheek, that ear lobe.

"Not at all," Draco replied, his breath tickling at Harry's ear in a most tantalizing manner. With an outward smile and an inner fluttering of his heart at the response, Harry slid into the stool beside Draco and called for a tequila from the bar tender, noticing that Draco was drinking one already almost belatedly. Odd...He never thought that he and Draco Malfoy might have the same taste in anything.

"How have you been?" he asked, leaning close to speak to Draco and thinking just how close they were. If he were to slip his arm about Draco's waist, it would bring them closer more comfortably and make speaking to and hearing each other easier. Curling itchy fingers into his palm, he gazed at Draco with what he thought was a pleasant, friendly expression - though he was inwardly afraid that the beautiful, ethereal creature beside him might decipher his true feelings from his eyes. "It's been a while since we saw each other."

"I've been...well," Draco replied in that sultry voice of his, gazing at Harry in return and meeting his eyes for a moment...a brief, delicious...fleeting moment. Though in that moment, Harry could see that Draco's eyes were hooded and exhibited very little emotion except for an outward mask of friendliness as well. Hope's tiny flame flickered in the chilling breeze of insidious, doubtful thoughts that washed through Harry's mind. Draco...he really didn't feel much, did he? But then...but maybe...maybe he did. Maybe he could. "And yourself? It has, indeed, been a while since we saw each other -" Stopping, Draco looked towards one of the huge speakers that were blasting music out from the four corners of the room. "Say, mind if we move somewhere more quiet so that we can actually talk without falling all over each other in the process?"

The little flame of hope flickered more, almost going out...but no...not yet. Harry simply nodded, looking expectantly at Draco after passing a few coins to the bar tender as he accepted his drink of tequila.

* * *

Draco had to choke the words out of himself. "Say, mind if we move somewhere more quiet so that we can actually talk without falling all over each other in the process?" Oh, the first part came easily - and quite a few places came to mind - but the latter part...oh, how hard it was to say. The last thing he wanted was to be further away from Harry, but this closeness was making him rather uncomfortable. And it all seemed so...easily done for Harry. Did he feel nothing, then? Nothing at all? Watching those emerald eyes as they asked him to lead the way, he could not help but want to grab Harry and kiss the breath out of him -

But no. No. That wouldn't do at all...and he would rather not frighten Harry away right now - not now when they were talking, when Harry was the one to have come up and ask to join Draco. 'Mind if I join you?' the words played over and over in Draco's mind, turning them over, mulling over how Harry sounded when he said that...and how...how close he was. So close that Draco's hands itched to touch him, to draw him close. A friendly hug would be all right, wouldn't it? Just one hug...

But one hug could turn into more...and more could turn into - Into what? Into a night of hot sex? Into a moment of utter disappointment? Frankly, he did not want to find out, and he did not want to dwell on the reason as to why he did not want to find out, either.

Looking to Harry again, he smiled a seemingly polite, friendly smile and motioned for Harry to follow him. Getting up, he moved along the bar to the staircase that led upwards to the second floor of the club. Looking back, Draco noticed that Harry was right behind him and smiled inwardly as he made his way up the staircase, presenting Harry with quite a view of his rear. Walking along the marble floor of the second floor hall, he looked down over the people in the room, then made his way up along the second set of stairs that led to the third floor - and the private rooms there that could be used for talk and relaxation - and other things. Ah, but he must not think of other things, so he tried to throw those thoughts out of his mind, though all efforts were in vain as he glanced back to Harry, noticing just how damned gorgeous the man looked for the hundredth time that night. Opening an unmarked door at the back of the tall hallway, he placed a red sign (meaning 'do not disturb', naturally) in the little slot in the middle of the door, then motioned for Harry to precede him inside.

The black haired man smiled and rubbed at one ear, sauntering into the room in a leisurely manner and gazing around it as he sipped from his tequila. The room was rather well made and quite private and...and rather intimate. There was a window upon one wall, hung with silver and green drapes that mirrored their colour and velvety fabric in the couch and two chairs in the room. A green marble table stood in the middle of the room upon a lush silver and deep green carpet that covered most of the ebony floor. Harry walked further in and gazed about the walls and the tapestries upon them...then quickly took a seat in one of the chairs as Draco walked towards the couch and draped his body over the corner of it, looking at Harry with half-closed eyes.

"So, how have you been doing?" Malfoy drawled softly, trying hard to keep his mind on proper things and off of how much he wanted to simply...pounce and ravish Harry right at that moment.

"I've been alright," Harry answered and relaxed slightly into the chair, though Draco noticed that he looked a little bit...nervous. Odd. Why nervous? "Job's been going good, though it does not give me much time for anything except for an outing to the Rose once in a while. I've never seen you here before...do you visit it often?" As Harry talked, he relaxed a little more and sipped from his tequila, legs spread just slightly in a comfortable pose. Draco tried hard not to notice his physical look...how good he looked in that silver shirt, in those faded jeans that fit so...tightly. But alas, he could not keep himself from admiring his former archrival in an almost daydreaming manner that nearly made him miss that question.

"Ah...often enough," he said hastily, sipping his tequila to cover his embarrassment for having let his mind drift. "It's a good way to relax, and Hermione and I like to come here and unwind. I've not seen her in a week or so, though...Say, have you heard much from her in that time?" He felt how forced the dialogue sounded, but he could not help himself. What else could he say? What else could he inquire about and sound casual and as if he did not care too deeply or too much?

Harry thought for a moment, then shook his head slowly. "Come to think of it, I've not heard much from her, either. Talked to her a bit a few days ago and she mentioned that she was working on some new spell research. But other than that, I haven't heard much from her at all. I'm certain that she's just too busy with her research to contact anyone. You know how Herm gets, mm? Always wrapped up in some sort of project or another, never having enough time left for anyone else, especially not herself."

Draco couldn't help but chuckle softly at that, nodding. "Yeah, you're right. She is indeed wrapped up in her projects a lot - but when she isn't, she's a sweet dear and a good friend." Smirking faintly, he finished his tequila and quirked an elegant brow at Harry. "Never thought I would say that about her...or be sitting here and talking to you like this." Or be wanting you so bloody much, Draco's mind whispered to him and he averted his eyes so that the thought would not seep into his eyes and reveal itself to Harry.

Harry smiled and shook his head slowly. "Neither did I...neither did I." Raising his glass to those alluring lips of his, Harry sipped a bit - then suddenly stopped and frowned at the tequila. Swirling it in his glass, he looked into it intently, then sniffed at it slightly in a way that made Draco sit up a bit, peering curiously at Harry.

"What's wrong with the drink?" he inquired in a soft voice, then blinked and felt his stomach shift suddenly and a cold sweat break out over his face. Something was definitely not right...and it was turning very, very not right very, very quickly. Draco's hand clutched at the arm of the couch as he tried to breath deeply and slowly, meaning to soothe his stomach. Could it be gas? No...certainly not. Growing dizzy, Draco leaned back into the couch and stretched his legs out, closing his eyes tightly and trying to focus on not throwing up under any circumstance. He hated to throw up, hated it with a passion.

He knew that Harry was speaking...but he could barely understand the words now. Indeed, there was something quite wrong with the drink.

* * *

"I...don't think that it's good to drink..." Harry murmured and sniffed at it again, pondering what on earth it could be that tasted and smelled very 'wrong' with the tequila. "...though I can't figure out what's wrong with -" Looking up at Draco made him stop in mid-sentence and almost drop his glass. Putting it down with a shaky hand, he stood and walked over to the blonde man quickly, looking at him in a worried manner. "Are you alright? Malfoy, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously, worried eyes moving over Draco's body and noticing the laboured breathing and clutching hand upon the arm rest. "Gods, can you hear me??" his voice grew a little frantic as Draco didn't even open his eyes to look at him and just kept breathing deeply. Opening an eye slightly at that last sentence, Draco smirked faintly and turned a whiter shade of pale, then shook his head almost imperceptibly 'no'.

Harry kneeled by him and touched his slender, white hand gently, then took it off the armrest and rubbed it in between his own hands, looking up to Draco. "Can you walk?" he asked, getting another negative headshake. Looking over Draco's body, he couldn't help but feel utterly helpless - torn between panicked paralysis and a worry that would propel him into motion. Luckily, the worry took over and he stood, then scooped Draco up into his arms, murmuring to him. "I'll take you to my place...see if I have anything to help you there...I don't know where you live, Malfoy, so it will have to be my place - and I will have no arguments." Frowning worriedly, he sheltered Draco close to his body and made his way out of the room, kicking the door open with a light motion of his foot. He couldn't help but notice how frail Draco really was, and how light his body was.

...his body...Harry tried very hard not to groan and grow weak in the knees as he thought of that body. That body...so well seen through that delightfully hugging clothing that Draco wore. Shaking himself mentally, Harry carried Draco down the two flights of stairs and made to the nearest exit - which was, luckily, the main exit from the club. Having heard Draco groan in sickly pain when he passed through the noisy main room, Harry was glad to carry him out of the club quickly. Moving to his car, he murmured a password to it and it opened up the passenger door. Walking around it to that door, Harry settled Draco into the grey leather snugly and gave him another worried look before closing the door and walking to the other side of the car. Harry hopped into the driver's seat and started the car up, not even bothering to feel any pleasure when the car started up quietly and quickly. It purred softly as the engine started and he steered it out of the spot it was parked in - a rather coveted spot almost right in front of the club. "Hold on...just hold on, Draco..." he murmured beneath his breath and brushed a strand of black hair out of his eyes, driving the car as gently and as quickly as he could towards his appartment.

Although he was deathly worried over Draco, he couldn't help but think of the fact that he, Harry Potter, not only had carried Draco in his arms, but was also driving the elegant, desirable creature to his apartment. To his apartment! What a thought...But a thought that did not last too long as he drove along empty streets, weaving his way towards the apartment building where he was renting his place. It wasn't too bad of a place, but definitely not what he could have had, would he have been willing to part with more money. Close by, thunder rolled across the sky, heard rather well in the electric car that made very little noise as it drove along the streets. Thunder...heh...a perfectly romantic scene, no? Though not too romantic, seeing as Draco was probably going to be sick, and he would have to nurse him into health if he did indeed have food poisoning, as Harry thought he did if the tequila was responsible - though how on earth one could get so sick from just one drink, he could not fathom. Draco probably had many more before that one, come to think of it.

Driving up to the building, the car descended into the underground parking place and Harry found a spot conveniently close to the elevators. Parking the vehicle, he hopped out of the car, ran to the other side and quickly and gently scooped Draco into his arms again, hearing only a slight groan of protest. At least Malfoy still had his spirit - kind of. Harry reached the elevator in a few steps after locking the car with another word and murmured a few words to open the elevator and program in what floor he wanted. Once more, he was reminded of how glad he was to be living in a wizard-created building that did not require button pushes, but only words to make the elevators and doors work. Leaning up against the back of the small chamber, he closed his eyes and held Draco close as the elevator lurched slightly, then hummed up along the floors quickly. Draco, of course, gave a protested groan as he felt the elevator go, turning even whiter and clutching at Harry's shirt slightly, which made Harry open his eyes and gaze at Draco's sweat-streaked face. Those deep, expressive grey eyes fluttered open, watching Harry with a pleading look, then closing rather tightly as he turned his face - and pressed his brow to Harry's shoulder.

Slightly stunned, Harry watched him with something akin to amazement as very serious worry rushed through him. As the elevator stopped and opened at last, he walked out of it quickly and towards his apartment door. Whispering a password to it, he entered as it swung open and made his way to the bathroom without even bothering to close and lock the door. Carefully, he placed Draco down on the burnt-orange carpet by the toilet, lifting the seat for him and touching a hand to that soft, moist hair of white gold. Draco managed to lift himself up on his arms shakily and look up at Harry - just before he groaned again and leaned over the toilet, being quite thoroughly sick into it. Harry, unable to do anything remotely sane, held that silky hair out of the way and supported Draco by wrapping an arm about his chest and holding him up. Himself, he felt slightly ill, but more worried than that, so he supported the other man until he was done and slumped into a shivering heap - leaning right up against Harry.

* * *

Draco could not quite understand what was happening, could not quite fathom how on earth he was suddenly in Harry's arms...then in Harry's car...and now throwing up into Harry's toilet. He, quite frankly, wanted to die on the spot of shame and of the sharp feeling of pain that was cutting his stomach into tatters. But bravely, he held himself back from death's door and was instead quite valiantly ill until some of the pain diminished and he realized who was holding his hair out of the way - and whose arm was supporting him from falling forward and cracking his head open on the rim of the toilet. It was...a strangely comforting feeling, and he slumped backwards into Harry's arms, breathing shakily and closing his eyes. He was, of course, in pain, and feeling weak and worn...but he was also feeling comforted, leaning up against Harry, being supported...and feeling a hand stroking his cheeks and hair gently. Stroking his cheeks...and hair...gently? He could almost not believe it, and he did not dare breathe for a few moments, not wanting to ruin this, not wanting Harry to stop with the caressing.

"Better?" he heard Harry's voice drifting to him and he could only nod a bit and open his eyes, gazing into those emeralds again...searching...searching for something - and finding worry, genuine worry and...and warmth? Could it be warmth that he saw? Closing his eyes again, he shifted slightly to lean more comfortably against Harry, a hand moving up and resting on the arm supporting (holding?) him.

"A bit," he croaked, then wrinkled his nose and touched the tip of his tongue to his lower lip, tasting bile and frowning. Taking a deep breath, he chuckled faintly and quirked a brow. "Sorry...I must look...and smell like a mess..." he apologized feebly, not even having enough energy to try and be colder and less willing to apologize.

"It's okay," Harry whispered, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind Draco's ear and tightening his other arm about the slim waist of his impromptu visitor. "That can be fixed...I just want you to be better, okay?" Tenderness...ah...yes, it was there, upon those words, in that voice. Tenderness. Draco's heart almost broke at those words, that tone - though it was sweet heartbreak...as sweet as a drop of cool water in a parched throat that has not tasted liquids in a long time. But - why would he care? He didn't love Harry...he'd already made up his mind on that point. So, he shouldn't care. He shouldn't care what Harry was saying, or in what tone, or why. All that he should care about was his health and the fact that he was practically lying on top of Harry.

But then...why did he still care? Why did those words - that tone sound...feel so good? He couldn't fathom why, and at the moment, he did not want to. All he wanted was to clean himself up, and maybe lie down for a little bit. Already, he was starting to get a headache from the illness, and his throat and mouth were slightly scorched from the acid of the bile. Tightening his hand upon Harry's arm, he coughed faintly and furrowed his brow a little. "Can I...have some water...and maybe lie down somewhere?" he murmured the question, trying to sound collected, but only managing to sound pathetic and dependant to his ears. But Harry - good, good Harry - did not mock or comment, he only nodded and gently, ever so gently, pulled Draco up with him, supporting him by draping one limp arm over his shoulders and wrapping one of his own arms about Draco's waist.

"Come on, then...rinse your mouth a bit, and I will get you to a bedroom," he murmured, nudging Draco towards the sink gently and letting him rinse his mouth with cool water. Draco did just that, watching Harry from behind his lowered lashes and noticing just how genuinely worried and caring he looked. Finishing, he smiled a bit and accepted a towel that Harry offered him, wiping his hands and mouth, then looking to Harry expectantly and smiling a bit. At this, Harry flashed a white grin and once again slipped his arm about Draco's waist, letting the former Slytherin student wrap his arm about Harry's shoulders.

They made their shaky way down a dark hallway and Harry nudged a room open with his hip, entering and murmuring a word to make the lights turn on at a dim intensity. Draco looked about the room, using the opportunity to rest his head upon Harry's shoulder and take in his scent of soft sandalwood and musk. The room was nice, if a bit smaller than what Draco was used to. It had a four-posted bed, a fireplace, a chair, a window, a wardrobe...and a bedside table. But that was about it. However, his keen eyes noticed some details about the room that made him realize something...The bed wasn't made too neatly, the bedside table held a book and some scrolls upon it, the wardrobe was slightly open and revealed clothes...

He was in Harry's bedroom.

His heart skipped a beat and he looked to Harry questioningly, but the boy was paying no heed to his look, leading him over to the bed instead and turning him. Draco sat when prompted, then lay down on his back and closed his eyes with a hiss of breath. "P-Potter..?" he murmured, opening his eyes slightly to gaze at Harry, but he stared into empty space. Panicking slightly, his eyes swept the room and he found Harry by the hearth, lighting a fire in it that popped a few times, then blazed in cheerful ignorance. The panic subsided and he cursed himself mentally for feeling such a silly feeling at just finding Harry away from him. God, at this rate, he would lose his mind if he did not smarten up and stop entertaining such ridiculous thoughts and feelings.

"Yes?" Harry answered, standing and brushing his jeans off. Walking over to Draco, he placed a hand on his brow, then smiled a little bit, his eyes seeming slightly relieved as he found no burning fever.

"Could I...have some water...?" Draco asked instead of the question that was burning within his mind. 'Why did you lead me to your bedroom?' his thoughts nagged, but he kept his mouth shut and did not let that query slip.

"Of course. I will be right back," the black haired wizard answered and smiled a bit to Draco before slipping out of the room with a walk that once again made Draco think of thoughts quiet inappropriate - though most flattering. Closing his eyes with a sigh, Draco rested one hand upon his stomach and wondered why on earth he did not notice the spoilt condition of the tequilas that he had drunk before. How could he not have noticed? How could he not have paid more attention? But then...how could he have? And if he had any suspicions...how could they have registered in his mind once he saw Harry? Harry...Harry...he couldn't stop thinking about him. The harder he tried, the more he failed...the more he failed, the lower he spiralled into the cycle of denial and lust that gripped him.

Hearing Harry's footsteps come close again, he sat up slowly in bed and steadied himself as another dizzy spell gripped him. Looking up as Harry came in, he brushed his hair from his brow and smiled a little bit, holding out a hand for the offered water glass. Harry placed it into his hand and waited patiently, hands clasping in front of his body. Sipping a little bit of the cool liquid, Draco let out a soft sigh of relief as his throat stopped aching so much and he washed the horrid taste out of it. "Thank you..." he whispered before taking another sip, then starting to put the water down on the table. His hand, however, decided to start quivering at that moment, though he wondered whether he wasn't just grateful for that when Harry's hand suddenly steadied his and aided him to put the glass down.

"You need rest," Harry's voice stirred him out of his stupor, their hands lingering on the glass a moment too long...and on each other a moment longer still. Draco blushed a bit and pulled his hand away, nodding mutely and looking up at Harry just to meet his eyes again and idly wonder how they would blaze if coloured with passion, with lo- no. No. What does love have to do with it? What does love have to do with anything? But then...what didn't it have to do with it? Looking down slightly to hide his confusion, he touched his hand to his leg and rubbed at his thigh slightly. "Hmm...and you do need a night robe..." Harry murmured almost to himself, walking towards the wardrobe and taking out a long, white tunic obviously used for nightwear. "It gets cold here, and there's a nasty storm coming...so you'd best put this on. It ought to fit; we're the same height and you're more slender than I am. The central heating system goes out now and then, and they've been trying to fix it for a few days now...so it will get pretty chilly tonight."

Draco could only nod, taking the tunic and looking up at Harry slightly. "Where do I sleep?" he whispered simply, watching the other with curious, still confused eyes.

"Why...here, of course," Harry chuckled as if it was a most silly question to which the answer should have been known from the start, then shook his head and whispered a word to put out the lights in the room. "Sleep tight, mm? The fire in the hearth is safe and won't cause any damage if left to burn. If you need anything - anything at all, call out. I'll be close." With that, he looked to Draco with an unreadable expression and walked out of the room quickly, closing the door behind him and leaving Draco alone to his thoughts. Looking after him, Draco let out a soft breath and closed his eyes against the internal pain that was building - a pain that was not at all related to his stomach.

Draco stared after Harry for a few moments after he opened his stinging eyes, then stripped slowly and put on the tunic, curling up into the sheets of the bed that smelled so keenly of Harry...the scent soothing him just as strangely as Harry's arm about him did before.

"...but...I need you..." he breathed into the silence of the room before he drifted off to sleep as the storm settled over London and poured its heavy tears over the lonely streets and homes.