Elf Flame

Story Summary:
Draco's trapped in Grimmauld Place, and he's really not enjoying himself--much.

Chapter 01



A gift ficlet for Xanateria, set shortly after A Second Chance

By Elf Flame

Life was as far from perfect as it could possibly be. Lucius was dead, Malfoy Manor had been confiscated by the Ministry, Narcissa had disappeared into the ether as though she had never existed, and Draco was exiled to this hell-hole of a house. If you could call it a house. Grimmauld Place. The place where Blacks went to die.

His wand had been destroyed in the final battle with Voldemort, saving the life of the Boy Who Lived, and both Potter and Snape had taken it upon themselves to defend him to the rest of the wizarding world. Despite the fact that he had gone after Snape when Snape had killed Lucius, or the fact that he had been fighting with Potter himself when the Death Eater had tried to kill Potter from behind. Regardless, they had both argued to the Ministry officials, in spite of Draco's feelings for the other boy, he had gone out of his way to save Potter's life. And had nearly died in the process.

Potter had recovered from the battle quickly, spending only a day in the hospital wing, while Draco had been there for more than a week, his wounds far more extensive and life-threatening. Even now, there were still scars all up his left arm from the blast that had destroyed his wand. Every so often, his hand would simply stop working, his fingers unable to even close into a fist upon command, and Draco would have to make do with the other hand. Sure, he had always been able to write right-handed, but never as gracefully as with his left. He felt awkward, disfigured and alone.

He wasn't even allowed to get a new wand until the Wizengamot decided his case. If they found him innocent, he would be allowed to do as he wished, though the world was no longer what he remembered. His parents were gone; his home and money confiscated by the Ministry; and all his friends were either dead, in Azkaban, or were otherwise unavailable. His place in the world, once assured, had now ceased to exist. If the Ministry found him guilty, an even worse fate awaited him: he would take his father's place in Azkaban. The very thought gave him shivers. But until that decision was made, he was a prisoner here. Prisoner of a house that he knew had been the witness to the last year of his cousin Sirius's life as well. He hated being here. He just wanted out. Surely Azkaban couldn't be worse than this, could it?

There was one positive thing about staying here, though. A gorgeous, torturous, green-eyed, tousle-black-haired thing, who smiled at him far too often for Draco's peace of mind. They had been on friendlier terms since waking in the Hospital Wing. They had shared something while unconscious, something that had brought them closer, but now Harry seemed simply to treat him as though he were another friend. He had hoped, after what had happened during their little experience, that they might become more than friends. But Harry never seemed to even remember. Not that they had discussed the experience at all.

But Draco remembered. And he wanted more. It hadn't been a dream. He could still feel the weight of Harry's hand on his shoulder when he had turned away, sure that the other boy could never want him. He remembered the softly rough silken feel of Harry's lips as they had slid across his own when they had finally kissed. And most of all, he lost himself in the memory of the weight of Harry in his arms as they had descended once again into blackness together.

When watching Harry move about the house became too much, Draco would disappear to his room, leaving the door open just a crack, just in case he was wrong. Just in case Harry had simply been waiting for him to make the first move, and wanted as much as he did, but was unsure as to how to approach him. Then he would strip and spread himself across the bed, closing his eyes and remembering those few moments of perfection.

And most times, those perfect few moments wouldn't be enough, and soon Draco would imagine the door opening, and those green eyes going wide as Harry looked down at him. Harry would gasp, open-mouthed for a moment, then he would swallow, and that pink tongue would flick out and lick his lips. And Draco would be unable to hold back a moan as Harry watched him stroke himself. He would gasp out Harry's name, and soon Harry would be on the bed with him, clothing gone, flesh sliding against flesh, green eyes holding grey in a grip tighter than Devil's Snare, and then Harry would be inside him, and that would be the most perfect moment of all.

He wanted it. He wanted it so badly he could taste it. And every time he emerged from his room after one of these little sessions, Harry would be even more solicitous than normal. Had he had a good nap? Was there anything he could do to help Draco adjust? Did he want to play a game of chess? Every time, Draco would stare at him for a moment. It was possible that Potter was simply the densest person on the history of the planet, but if that were so, perhaps the signals simply needed to be amplified? Then Draco would shake off this thought, and snark quietly about how the light outside made it near-impossible to take a nap, and how he'd simply tossed and turned. Which was true to an extent, though Potter would never get the implication. Not even if slapped across the face with it.

The final straw, however, came the day of Harry's birthday. Having been unable to even leave the house, Draco hadn't managed to get him a present, but Harry had waved it off, saying it was unnecessary, as the friendship they now had was a gift itself. Then the Weasleys and Granger had arrived, and Draco had retreated to his room. He might be friends with Harry, but he still hated Weasley with a passion, and could hardly blame Granger for her own dislike of him. He had hardly been the most friendly of classmates. He might be ‘reformed,' but that couldn't make them friends. So rather than ruin Harry's day, it just seemed better to stay out of the way.

Which had worked, until Harry and the Weaslette had come stumbling upstairs. Draco had left his door open a crack as always, and he heard footsteps on the stairs and gone to investigate. He heard a low chuckle, and a girlish giggle, then seen a flash of red hair, and was turning away with the disgusted thought that Granger and Weasley together was simply something he did not want to see, when he froze, mid-turn, at seeing Harry with that girl. And they were kissing. And pulling at each other's clothing. They barely made it to Harry's bedroom door before their robes fell away, and Draco was sure he saw skin before the door fell shut.

He was frozen for a moment, then stumbled back to his bed, leaving the door far more ajar than it had been before. Harry didn't want him. He wanted…her. Draco struggled against the need to scream, to throw or break things. It wasn't fair. It wasn't. There was no way he could handle just being Harry's friend. Especially if he was in love with someone else. It would kill him to see it. Damn the Ministry. He had to get out. Perhaps he could go stay with Severus.

Pulling his trunk from under the bed, he began to pack. There was no way he was going to stay here. Not with them there, in Harry's room, doing…that. Just the thought made Draco dizzy, and he had to sit for a moment, and try to remember how to breathe. His chest hurt, and his eyes stung. But he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't cry, so he must have simply stirred up the dust in the room. Damned allergies.

He sat there trying to regain his composure until he realized he was hearing voices in the hall once more. The time hadn't seemed that long, but then thoughts of Harry always managed to distract him. He didn't want to listen to their post-coital conversation, but he couldn't quite stop himself returning to the door to watch once more. They were standing at the top of the staircase, disheveled and flushed.

"…When will you tell him?" Ginny was asking. Draco snorted. They hadn't even told the Weasel that they were together yet?

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. He's so fragile right now. Everything's so different for him. I don't want to push, you know?" Draco narrowed his eyes. What was that about? Weasley, fragile? He'd seemed fine when he'd stormed the place with the rest of his loud, obnoxious family.

Ginny smiled. "Do you want me to be there?" Her hand was smoothing down his collar.

Harry shook his head. "No. I don't think he'd want anyone else to be there. It's going to be hard enough just talking to him. Getting him to talk to me, even. If you were there, it would only be worse. Besides, look at his reaction to the rest of you tonight." Harry sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "No, this is something I have to do alone." Ginny giggled, and Draco wanted to smack the simpering look from her face. "Yeah, okay, not alone, but you know what I mean…" Draco could hear the smile in his voice, and had to turn away from the two to keep himself from attacking them.

When he turned back, Harry was talking again. "…Let me know if you want me to be there, okay?"

Ginny nodded. "I'm sure I'll be just fine, Harry. Besides, I want it to be a surprise for him." Draco frowned at this. Were they each going to tell the Weasel separately?

Harry sighed. "If you say so, Ginny." There was a short period of awkward silence before Harry spoke again. "God, I can't believe we actually did that." He snorted. "Oh, well, with our history, I suppose it had to happen sometime, huh?" Draco felt his insides roll. He was not going to let this get to him. He turned away from the door, shutting it completely, and moved back to the closet, returning to dumping his robes haphazardly in his trunk.

It was only a moment later when there was a knock at his door. Draco ignored it in favor of getting out of this house as fast as possible.

"Draco?" he heard after another, louder knock.

"Go away, Potter."

The door opened, and he whirled to snarl at the young man who entered. "Get out of here. I didn't invite you in. Or don't you know what go away means?"

Green eyes widened in surprise, and pink lips made an ‘o.' Harry stood stunned for a moment, and Draco couldn't help but drink him in one last time. Finally he closed his eyes and turned away. "What do you want, Potter?"

"Draco, I haven't see you this angry with me since…"

Draco snorted. "Since our little experience? Or have you simply forgotten that ever happened?"

He felt Harry approach. "Draco, what have I done to make you so upset? Did having my friends here really upset you that much?"

"It wasn't your friends in general that upset me. It's what you chose to do with one of them." He wasn't quite able to keep the pain from his voice.

Harry's voice was deliberately calm when he spoke again. "What do you mean, Draco?"

Draco gritted his teeth and continued to pack. "Nothing, Potter. I'm thrilled for you."

Harry pulled the latest batch of robes from Draco's arms, placed it carefully on the bed, and grabbed his hands before he could turn back for another load. "Draco, what's wrong? What did I do?"

"Oh, wasn't she memorable enough, Potter? Maybe she isn't the girl for you then. Was she your first?" He smiled a sour, crooked smirk. "Does Weasley know yet?"

Harry scowled for a minute before responding. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Draco."

"I saw you," Draco growled. "How could I miss her simpering at you on the stairs?"

"Ginny?" Harry asked, astounded. "You saw that?"

Draco finally managed to pull his hands from Harry's surprise-loosened grasp. He crossed his arms and glowered at him. "What do you think?"

Harry flushed, but smiled. "Draco, are you…jealous?"

Draco snarled and tried to turn away from him, but Harry caught his shoulders. "No. Why should I be jealous? You're not mine, anyway…" his voice trailed off, and his eyes stung once more, so he looked away. Damned if he was going to make himself more vulnerable to Harry than he already was.

Harry sighed, and pulled Draco's chin until Draco's eyes rose to meet his. "I'm sorry you saw that, but it wasn't exactly what it looked like."

"I don't know why you're bothering to explain to me, Potter. It's none of my affair," Draco said coldly.

"Look, Ginny asked for some advice, all right?"

Draco smirked. "Is that what they're calling it nowadays?"

Harry sighed. "Ginny got over me a long time ago. She's got a crush on someone else. She just wanted advice on how to approach him."

Draco's eyebrow raised. "So you snogged and shagged her so that she'd know what to do?"

Harry's eyes grew round. "Where did you get the idea we shagged, Draco?"

"Well, that's usually what happens when someone undresses in the same room as someone else, Potter. Was I mistaken?"

"Look, she had an outfit she wanted to show me, to see if I thought he would like it, okay? Yeah, we kissed. I…" Harry shrugged. "It was odd to see her so relaxed. And she was so pretty. But the kiss was just that, Draco, a kiss. Ginny's interested in Neville now. And I think they'd be great together. If she can just get him to realize she's interested."

Draco snorted at this. "Longbottom? You expect me to believe she's chosen Longbottom over you?"

"Believe whatever you want when it comes to her, Draco, you will anyway. I've already figured out who I want to be with, if they'll stop being such a miserable arse. I kissed Ginny because I just wanted to know if I'd been imagining things. I haven't kissed that many people, Draco. I thought that maybe it'd all just been in my head." He stepped closer, and Draco wanted to growl at him, but it came out more of a whimper. "I just had to be sure that I really wasn't interested in her. I'm not. At all." He licked his lips, and Draco was mesmerized by the movement of that tongue. "Draco…"

Draco drew away, and looked away from Harry. "So, who is she then?"

Harry blinked. "Who?"

Draco huffed in exasperation. "The girl you decided to practice for. I hope she's worth it." He could feel his heart filling with lead as he spoke.

"Draco, you great git!" Harry laughed.

Draco looked up. "What?"

Harry took his hand, and pulled him to sit down on the bed. "You think I want a girl?"

"Don't you? I seem to recall a conversation where you were horrified about the other possibility…"

"Draco, I've kissed exactly four people in my life. Cho in fifth year, which was possibly one of the biggest mistakes of my life; Susan Bones at Christmas last year, after which she decided she liked Terry Boot better…"

Draco smirked. "Well, he is an excellent kisser."

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "Then there was Ginny tonight, which we both agreed was nice but not anything special; and you." Draco's heartbeat sped up at this. Was Harry really going where he thought he was?

Harry licked his lips once more. "Guess which one meant the most to me, Draco. Guess which one I want to follow up on."

Draco swallowed. "Then why haven't you done anything before now? We've been alone in this house for a month."

"Because we both needed time, Draco. I didn't want you to think you were here just because I wanted you. I wanted you to feel secure here. And…I wasn't sure what you wanted."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Do you know something, Potter? You are an idiot." With that, he closed the remaining space between them, and pulled Harry's mouth to his. It was just like he remembered. But it was better, too. Because this time, they didn't have to stop. This time, Harry wanted this as much as he did. This time, Harry wanted him, too.