Found, Never Lost

Intermezzo

Tuesday, June 21, 2004
Way past 1:00

Harry had intended to hold Draco for just a few moments, only to make sure that he would be all right. Honestly! But things hadn't quite worked out that way. Although he'd been almost completely asleep by the time his head touched the pillow, Draco had seized Harry's hand the moment he'd put his arm across Draco's waist. Now his fingers were wound around Harry's like Devil's Snare and wouldn't let go.

Every time Harry attempted to withdraw his hand, Draco tightened his grasp and made such a distressed noise that Harry gave up after a few tries and lay still to ponder his options - or lack thereof. Apparently, there wasn't much he could do at this point except wait and see if Draco would release his hand when he fell into deep sleep - and wasn't that the perfect excuse for snuggling against Draco's back? His inner Slytherin approved whole-heartedly. So did his body, promptly and eagerly and not at all unexpectedly, considering his reaction to their embrace of - when? Yesterday? Had it really only been yesterday?

He stretched out behind Draco and tried to make himself comfortable. It took some shifting and moving around because he had no hand free to arrange certain body parts, but eventually he managed to manoeuver his erection into a position that didn't cause him any discomfort - or, truth be told, caused anything but discomfort. He wondered briefly if this could be considered taking advantage of Draco's exhausted condition, then decided against it. After all, it wasn't as if he'd planned ending up in Draco's bed like this or was going to do anything improper. With a quiet sigh, he relaxed against Draco's back.

After everything that had happened tonight, he should probably be as exhausted as Draco. Or be worried about his breakdown or whatever it had been. Or at least give it some serious thought. Or mull over the conversation he'd had with Draco afterwards. Instead, his mind was quite happily hung up on images of Draco leaning over him in the kitchen with an expression of utter relief, shivering, eyes very wide and lips very pink in his pale face. Draco straddling him on the couch this afternoon, touching him, laughing with him. Close, so close... God, how he had wanted Draco to kiss him! If Draco hadn't tickled him, he would have pulled him into his arms, wrapped his legs around him and...

Well, tickling had always been a guaranteed arousal-killer, so it hadn't taken much self-control to restrain himself. But, God, how he had wanted to kiss Draco! He might have done it regardless if Draco had given him a signal that he wanted him to; if his eyes had rested on Harry's mouth instead of just flickering across his face and then taking on that unfocussed, absent look that meant he was in a place where Harry couldn't follow. And of course such thoughts did nothing to alleviate the tension in the lower part of his body.

Trust a Malfoy to get me into an impossible situation within twenty-four hours of arrival, he thought, smiling, burying his nose in Draco's hair.

And then Draco's familiar scent washed over him and connected with something deep within him, and suddenly it was all back: the loss, the heartache, the longing, the desire - feelings he had stored away and barely touched in seven years. He felt his throat constrict and fought down the urge to squeeze Draco's hand to convince himself that this was not a dream, that Draco was really here, sleeping peacefully in his arms. So close, so close, so close...

Drawing a shuddering breath, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the slow rising and falling of Draco's chest under their intertwined fingers. He lightly ran his thumb across the back of Draco's hand, revelling in how good it felt to hold Draco like this... how perfectly the curves of their bodies fit together... how much he wanted to run his lips along Draco's neck, slip a hand under his shirt and touch soft skin - skin that was so pale that he always expected it to smell of vanilla and to feel cool and smooth under his tongue, like whipped cream...

Some time later

Draco drifted slowly out of sleep because he felt uncomfortable and constricted. His elbow touched something hard and cold in front of him while his back was too warm. What ultimately woke him, however, was the realisation that he was not alone in bed - and that there was only one person who could possibly be with him.

If it hadn't been for a bout of panic-induced paralysis and an arm around his midriff, he would have jumped out of bed. As it was, all he could do was lie still and sense into the darkness around him, straining to listen over the hammering of his heart. Much to his relief, he heard slow, regular breaths behind him. That, the steady rising and falling of the chest against his back, and the heaviness of the arm around his waist assured him that Harry was fast asleep.

So far so good.

Now what on earth was Harry doing in bed with him? Had they...? - No, it didn't feel like it. His body lacked any of its distinct post-coital sensations. So, no, they hadn't. Thank God! He would find it severely disturbing if he'd had sex with Harry for the first time in seven years and were unable to remember the details!

This, of course, only deepened the mystery of how Harry had ended up in Draco's bed - which was technically Harry's bed, but that was beside the point.

Now that his initial shock was over, Draco let himself relax and the situation sink in. He was facing the wall, Harry lay spooned behind him, and their fingers were firmly intertwined. No wonder he felt hot and sweaty in spite of the coolness of the wall in front of him! Cautiously, he disentangled their hands. Next, he slowly rolled onto his back, nudging Harry in the process, trying to get him to turn over and away from him.

It seemed like a good idea; unfortunately, he obviously failed to communicate it: Harry stayed where he was, and as soon as Draco lay still again, he tucked his face into Draco's shoulder with a contented sigh. As if that wasn't enough, the manoeuver had shifted his arm perilously close to Draco's groin. The next moment, something that was unmistakably an erection was pressing into Draco's hip.

His stomach did a double flip and he felt his pulse speed up considerably.

Merlin, it's been so long!

Draco felt himself hardening in response. He bit his lip and breathed deeply, willing himself to be still so that Harry's hand wouldn't accidentally slip any further...

Should he do something? Sleep on the couch, perhaps? But Harry might wake up if he tried to crawl out from under his arm, and he didn't feel like dealing with the bumbling Gryffindorish explanations or apologies that would certainly follow. No, he'd much rather enjoy being so close to Harry again. What he probably shouldn't do, though, was touch himself more than absolutely necessary while rearranging his boxers... He pulled his hand back up and put it gently on Harry's arm. It couldn't be helped. He'd have to try to go back to sleep with Harry wrapped around him and a rampant hard-on.

Trust Potter to leave me with an itch I can't scratch!

Twice within mere hours at that! Three times, actually, if he counted the cinema.

Draco slowly shifted his shoulder - and Harry's head - to a more comfortable position and rested his cheek against Harry's forehead. He yawned and decided that he could care less why Harry was in his bed. The important thing was that he was in his bed. Waking up together would be awkward and could potentially be embarrassing, but they'd cross that bridge come morning.

With a smile he closed his eyes again, feeling more at peace than he had in a long time.