Harry And Draco Chronicles

Chapter 13: Reconnecting

Draco drummed his fingers on the glass of the window. He turned his head to the side and stared at the door. He had been doing this for the past twenty minutes, since he was first awoken by the smell of food. But instead of joining Harry downstairs, he stubbornly remained in his room.

Unlike the previous morning, Sirius was now at home, and Draco wanted to avoid him. Although they had run into one another in the hall when Draco was searching for fresh towels in the cabinets, the most amount of time they had spent together was the night Sirius found him in the alley; and Draco wanted to keep it that way. There was something about Harry's godfather that unnerved Draco and forced him to keep his distance. Perhaps it was that Sirius had seen him at his most vulnerable. Perhaps.

And so he sat at that window, hoping that Harry would come to the room with a tray for him. "He should know that that is what I would want," Draco said angrily to himself. The house-elves at Malfoy Manor would have done exactly this on mornings their young master did not want to join his parents for breakfast. Draco gazed at the door once more, as he now attributed his growing hunger to Harry's laziness.

He eventually walked to the door and pressed his ear against it; he could hear Sirius' low voice as it echoed from the kitchen. He sighed loudly and glanced up at the ceiling, as he wondered why the man had no other obligations to attend to. He then wandered to the dresser and glanced at his appearance in the small mirror. His foot began to tap against the one of the dresser's legs; slowly at first, but the speed soon increased until he was kicking it. But he ceased this activity when he heard the sound of footsteps. Draco raced back to the windowsill.

The door opened seconds later, and Harry, who was struggling as he tried to manage both the door and the tray in his hands, came into the room. Able to keep the glass of juice from tipping over, he finally lay the tray on the bed.

Harry placed his hands on his hips and stared at Draco; but the other man did not acknowledge his presence, and his attention seemed focused elsewhere. Draco eventually did look his way; but his eyes flickered to the food on his bed for a moment, before he turned away once more.

"Why didn't you join us for breakfast?" Harry finally asked. He watched as Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I bought you some food. You better eat it before it gets cold."

Draco waited a moment before he got up from his seat. He sat down on the bed and looked down at the food. He took a piece of fruit from the bowl, and appearing as though he was merely obeying Harry's wishes instead of satisfying his own hunger, took a large bite.

"Sirius would like to talk to you," said Harry.

This statement only caused Draco to raise an eyebrow. But he did not respond and continued eating.

"I was talking to him about your situation," Harry went on. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small book. "Hermione sent me this book months ago, but I only got around to reading it." He flipped through the pages until he came to the chapter he was searching for. "Sirius and I were looking at this and we came to the conclusion that those marks on your face must have been magicked there."

The piece of cantaloupe slipped from Draco's fingers and fell into his glass of orange juice. Draco moved down the bed, away from the other man and rested his head against the headboard. "I don't appreciate you and Sirius talking about me," he muttered.

"It wasn't as if we were gossiping about you." Harry moved the tray out of the way and glided towards Draco. He placed his hand on the other man's leg, allowing his fingers to circle around his knee. "We were trying to figure out a way to help you. And we thought we'd start by getting rid of those marks on your skin."

Draco grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed hard. "Who said I needed help, huh? Like I told you the other day, I can take care of myself. And as for the marks on my face, it's really none of your business how they got there." He then released Harry's hand and pushed it away.

"Draco, I didn't mean to--"

"Leave me alone." Draco jumped off the bed and returned to his previous seat. He brought his knees to his chest and glanced out of the window. The sight of suburbia, which had bored him earlier that morning, suddenly caught his interest. His gazed stayed fixed on the house across the street for several minutes. He only looked back at Harry when he heard him walk out of the room.

Hours later, when Draco had exhausted his daily exercise of pacing back and forth in the room, he finally ventured into the hall. It was now the afternoon, and since Harry did not come back to reconcile with him, he took it upon himself to make the first move. He knew Harry was in his bedroom; they shared a common wall, and he could hear the other man loudly rummaging around in his room - maybe in an attempt to get his attention, Draco thought.

He stood outside the door for a moment, before opening it. Harry's bedroom was just as sparse as his, but was littered with drawings of brooms. Draco picked up one of the parchments. "You design racing brooms?"

Harry suddenly sat up on his bed. "I will in about a month. I'm joining the Firebolt Corporation soon."

Draco only looked at him from the corner of his eyes, before putting the drawing back in its place. He walked around the room one last time, picking up random objects; but he finally took his seat next to Harry on the bed. "So, what does that book say about the marks on my face?"

"We don't have to talk about it, if you don't--" But Harry quickly stopped when he noticed the expression in Draco's eyes. "It just says that it's a Dark Magic curse called Branding. Some wizards use it to humiliate their victims." Harry leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Were you attacked by a Dark Wizard?"

"You could say that," said Draco. "It was my father."

"Why would your father magick those scars on you?"

"First off, he didn't magick them into my skin. He used his fists to do that. And then he placed a spell on my wounds so they wouldn't disappear." He paused as his gaze traveled along Harry's face, detecting signs of horror on his features. "Will you please stop looking at me like that?"

"I'm not looking at you in any way."

"Yes you are. And to answer your question, I don't know why he did it. Perhaps I was being a smart-ass. Or maybe he hated the idea of his son being queer. I don't know."

Harry then got the sudden desire to take Draco's hand in his or touch any part of him. But he resisted; it was apparent by the standoffish manner Draco was staring at him that he did not want his sympathy. However, Harry could not hold back for much longer, and eventually reached forward and grazed his fingers along Draco's cheek.

Draco closed his eyes when Harry began to finger the scar on his chin. "I'm especially proud of that one," he said.

"That's a very sadistic thing to say. How can you be proud of your father beating you?"

"Because this mark," Draco responded as he pushed Harry's hand away and began to touch it himself, "represents the first time I ever tried to defend myself against him. If I hadn't hit him back, he would have done a lot worse to me." Draco began to scratch his chin. But he soon stopped when he thought of the lashing he received days later for his actions.

"Was this a daily occurrence in your household?" Harry asked.

"It wasn't every day, but it was enough."

Harry leaned against the headboard and thought of the abuse he, too, had received, and the relief he now felt for being out of the Dursley household. "At least you were able to escape it when you went to Durmstrang."

"I never went to Durmstrang."

"Were you tutored the whole year?"

Draco scratched his brow and moved around on the bed uncomfortably. "I was...up until February, when it abruptly stopped."

"Why?"

For nearly a year, Draco had been successful at pushing the events of that night out of his mind. The tactic worked so well that he had trouble remembering some of the details; but it was all clear now. He lowered his head and clasped his hands together.

"Draco," Harry said in a low voice. He reached over and lightly touched Draco's shoulder.

"My father kicked me out of the house," Draco finally uttered. "It was that night I was to meet you. Remember?" When Harry nodded, he continued. "He found out about it and decided to kick me out, with only the clothes on my back."

He glanced at Harry and from the expression on his face, he knew the other man was aware he was leaving things out, things he did not care to discuss.

Draco leaned his head back against one of the bedposts. He remained quiet, before saying, "After that happened, I lived in London with some kids I met."

"Were these homeless kids?" asked Harry.

"Yeah. We all lived in a factory, like one big dysfunctional family. And for money, some of them robbed people and others...sold their bodies."

The last part of the statement caused Harry to stiffen his back. "And what did you do?"

"What do you mean 'what did you do?'"

"I didn't mean anything by it," Harry said quickly when he saw the glare that Draco was bestowing on him. "I just wanted to know which category you fitted into."

"Do you want me to tell you that I let men suck me for Muggle money?" He leaned forward until he was only inches away from Harry's face. "Or perhaps, you want to hear stories about me getting bent over a chair, while some bloke had his way with me?"

Harry winced and looked away.

"Well, that never happened," Draco stated. "I was a thief. I robbed stores and sometimes houses. My time in Hogwarts taught me how to sneak around without getting caught. I can credit Finch for helping me with those skills." He glanced towards the window and smiled. "Good old Finch. Even he would have been impressed."

"Did people mess with you?"

"Of course they did. Don't you remember the state I was in when Sirius brought me here?" He lowered his head and brought his finger to his mouth. "It was a gang of men who attacked me that night. They thought I had money, because I was dressed up real nice. I was only wearing those clothes because I wanted to impress that client."

"A client?" said Harry. "I thought you didn't do that kind of stuff."

"My god Harry. I'm telling you about how I got beat up, and all you can think about is me having a client?" He continued to stare at Harry, until the other man lowered his head. "Anyway, it was the first and only time I went to a man's house. And I didn't do anything with him. He wanted me, but I wasn't about to give myself up to him. I would never do that. In the end, he wound up paying me for my looks. And who could blame him? I'm bloody gorgeous."

The statement caused a momentary smile to creep onto Harry's lips. But he regained his seriousness once more and asked, "Why didn't you ever contact me? I would have helped you."

Draco was quiet and continued to stare down at the bedspread. "I wanted to. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. I had to prove to my father and myself that was I could take care of myself." He reached for his face and wiped the tear that began to travel down his cheek. "Everyday, I wanted to come and find you, but I was ashamed. I didn't want you to see me like this."

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him against his body. "I don't care about what you look like," he whispered against Draco's ear. "I just wanted to see you. To know that you were safe." His hand traveled up and down Draco's back, until his fingers tangled themselves in his hair. "I love you."

Draco rested his head against Harry's shoulder and allowed the emotions that have building inside of him to finally pour out. It had been a long time since he had cried; not even those nights of blinding coldness and hunger were able to produce those great amount of tears. He closed his eyes as the soothing warmth of the other man's body eased him.

In their close position, Draco's lips brushed against the crook of Harry's neck. With his eyes still shut, Draco tasted his skin. His lips moved up Harry's neck, until they were almost at his mouth. He pulled away and looked Harry in the eyes. The stare lasted only a second, before he proceeded with his kiss. Harry fell back onto the bed, and wrapped his arms tighter around Draco's body. Unlike the previous day, Draco did not abruptly pull away and showed interest in the embrace with his sighs and moans.

"Excuse me," Sirius said in a low voice. The two men on the bed did not react. "Excuse me," he repeated.

Harry and Draco finally pulled apart. Harry sat up on the bed and distanced himself from Draco. His face was flustered and he brought his hand to his mouth, as he tried to cover his rouged cheeks. Draco remained in his laying position on the bed and showed no signs of being ashamed. If anything, he seemed almost amused over the incident.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably on his feet. His expression matched that of Harry's, although he tried to hide it. "I just wanted to let you know that I ordered some takeaway for dinner. It's downstairs if you guys want any."

Since Harry remained quiet and appeared as though he had lost his voice, Draco decided to respond on his behalf with a nonchalant, "Sure."

When Sirius had finally left the room, both men looked at one another and laughed. "That was so embarrassing," said Harry.

Draco glanced up at him inquisitively. "Why would it be? I'm pretty sure this is not the first time he's walked in on you. He's probably caught you and your little girlfriend snogging up here loads of times."

"She's not my girlfriend. And I've never brought anyone home."

"What about him?" asked Draco. "Have you walked in on him and his female companions?" Draco now lay on his stomach as he awaited Harry's answer.

"Sirius doesn't have a girlfriend."

"You're kidding me, right?" When Harry shook his head, Draco stated, "I spend nearly three hours looking out the window of my bedroom, and I would say that at least five homes on this block are headed by single mothers. Now, you mean to tell me that none of them have tried to make a move for him?"

"I've seen him talking to them, and they sometimes bring us food, but I don't know anymore than that. And frankly, I don't care to know. What he does in his free time is his business."

"Fair enough," said Draco. He continued to stare at Harry, until his hand slowly crept along the bedspread and found its way to Harry's leg. "Do you think he has any qualms about us...being together?"

"What do you mean?" But Harry soon realized what Draco was asking him and quickly responded with, "No, not at all. He doesn't really care about us being gay."

"Then, will he have a problem with me staying in your room?"

"Why should he? We have plenty of blankets and--" Harry stopped talking when he felt Draco's hand travel along his inner thigh; the other man was clearly not talking about sleeping on the floor of his room. "He won't mind it, but I might."

Harry hesitated for a moment, as he tried to pick the right words to explain his reservations over being intimate when his godfather was just down the hall. "I don't think I would feel comfortable with that. The walls here are kinda thin, and I would be mortified if he heard anything. Plus...it would just make me feel weird. I think it would be best if we waited until he was out of the house."

Draco continued to play with Harry's leg. But he finally looked up and said, "That's fine." He pushed himself closer to Harry and kissed him again. It was another few minutes until they made their way downstairs for dinner.