Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Shards Of His Beloved	By : EvilConcubine Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 18387 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
My heroes: Anon, Star, Nubia, Annette, MakeupDiva84, Leto, Prague, Whitmore, Grey_Archangel, Pillow Talk and astarta. Thank you so much, guys! You're wonderful!

A/N: It confuses me a little that some readers think that Ginny is a terrible mother and should be thrown out or dead. I really don't understand what exactly makes people think so. She hates Draco and can't leave the past, well... in the past (her hatred is quite mutual as you could see, partially because someone (*cough* someone very blond) is jealous as hell), and her marriage is a failure. But which part of it makes her a bad mother and even a really bad person that deserves death :O ? She has her opinions with which we can disagree, but that's all. And hers and Draco's mutual hatred mostly doesn't go further than verbal insults. She's not a bad mother; in fact, I've never showed anything like this. I've just never showed a lot of her, in the first place, unless it was something important for Draco or Harry. Because, frankly, you wouldn't want me to pay her too much attention, and I don't want it either. She has a very little role here. But I've made enough hints that she's quite affectionate towards her little boys. In the very beginning I've even mentioned that Harry and Ginny love their children equally, and that it's one of the very few things that keep them together for the sake of their boys. I also, mostly, make you see her with Draco's eyes and, of course, it influences people's opinion, because, as you can see, he's sick of her. Draco's opinion about her isn't really better than hers about him ;).

In this story I've never intended to show her as a cruel bitch whose place is in Azkaban or mental facility, because I know that such stories exist and my other story is a living proof, though I've seen much crazier ;). I just don't want people to get the wrong idea about this story. Just consider her a woman with the failed marriage and career, who has to live with someone she hates and someone whose family hurt her family in the past. Believe me, she could be much worse if she wanted to and if she was really evil (to prove it, I could make dozens of examples, but it would take too long), but, instead, she decided to find a outlet somewhere else. If it makes you feel better, I definitely don't like her; never have, never will, and Harry should be with Draco, not with her :P. But, hey, "kill her!" and "take her children away from her!" :O ?

In any case, today's chapter will change a lot of things!

Enjoy! :)

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13. Almost...

     Even more than a week later Draco didn't know what to think of the shocking information that he'd eavesdropped. He still didn't know what to make of it. He didn't know if he should be grateful or furious that Potter had once again meddled in the things that were none of his concern. It probably depended on what had induced his benefactor to do all of it. Yes, Harry's real motives were the key to Draco's reaction, which for now was rather ambiguous. If it was Potter's stupid and restless heroism and pity then Draco decided he wouldn't be able to forgive the outrageous invasion into his life, no matter how noble the bloody Saviour's deeds were; if it was actually because Potter cared about Draco, it was an entirely different matter. The latter seemed so appealing... But he didn't want to be deluded by his own vivid imagination and, most likely, empty suppositions. No, he didn't want to make a fool of himself even in his own thoughts only because he'd suddenly imagined something.

     The delicious cake that Draco had got on his birthday didn't help to dissolve his confusion either; not really the cake itself, but the way Potter looked like Draco's birthday was very important and meant something special to Potter himself. Such thoughtfulness was rather pleasant.

     There was the other thing that had happened recently: Potter and his wife had split and decided to live separately. Draco wasn't sure if they had broken up permanently and were going to divorce, but it made Draco feel relieved, anyway. And when he'd accidentally heard that the bitch had a lover, he felt both pleased and livid for some reason. He'd been covertly prying and eavesdropping a lot lately, and he didn't like it, especially given the embarrassment that he would feel in case he was caught showing so much interest. Eventually, he forced himself to stop.

     Harry and Ginny took turns in taking care of their children. Albus and Scorpius were sad that they couldn't spend as much time together as before. But, at the same time, Al wasn't happy that he couldn't see Mummy and Daddy every day. When he was with Ginny he, at some point, started missing Harry; and, when he was with Harry, he soon found himself missing his mother, even though she firecalled him every day. This situation sometimes ended with such temper tantrums that even Scorpius was hiding from his angry friend until the dark-haired boy calmed down.

     Harry felt Draco's eyes on him pretty often. And every time he tried to look back, they looked at anything but him. That didn't prevent Harry from seeing that there was something unspoken and something important in these eyes. Draco wanted to tell him something, it was obvious (well, as obvious as Draco's intentions could be). Harry was dying from curiosity and desire to find out what it was. It was so thrilling. But, no matter how tempting it was, he didn't want to push the matters.

     And then, one day, Draco entered his study (ever since Draco had cleaned and made it look more than just usable long ago, Harry had been using this room for his work, instead of kitchen, dining room or any other room), and Harry was very hopeful to hear... something (he still had no idea what), as he saw a tiny bit nervous and uncertain expression on the blonde's face. Harry was busy with his paperwork, the most loathed and boring work, in his opinion, but stopped doing everything, preparing himself to listen. Draco looked mostly calm and composed as he started speaking:

"Master, I wish to ask your permission to get a job. My son needs things I cannot afford otherwise," he said. Harry's face fell. He felt a pang of disappointment. So this was what Draco had been trying to tell him for all this time? Was it all about this? And this... this 'Master' again! At first Draco had been calling him that out of spite, now it was just a habit; but Harry didn't like it anyway.

     Draco interpreted Potter's facial expression as 'no' and his mood fell, too.

"I'll make sure it doesn't interfere with my household chores," he promised. "It would be impossible for me to stop doing them anyway..." He quietened down, realising that he was mumbling. He probably had to leave right now and stop making a fool of himself.

"Of course," Harry almost exclaimed. He didn't want to be a git and upset Draco just because his, Harry's, expectations of 'something' were ruined. "Have you already found a job?"

"Not yet. I think brewing potions is all that could bring me some money. I'm aware that it's not going to be easy to find clients, because I'm not a licensed potioneer, but I'm willing to try. I'd like to put up an ad in a couple of newspapers; it's free. If it works, I'll return you all the money for using ingredients from the potions lab."

"No, I won't take anything for them. You know no one's brewing potions here, and all the ingredients are just going to get spoilt eventually. You'll actually do me a favour if you put them into use. You're free to use anything you require. The lab is yours."

"I appreciate it."

"Draco..." Harry sighed after a short pause. "I could easily afford any clothes and other things you and your boy need. I know I can't pay you for your work, because of that bloody curse, but I can just give you things that..."

"No," Draco interrupted. He refused decidedly, albeit it didn't sound too harsh. Although Potter gave some things for Scorpius and Draco himself, it was on his own initiative. Draco hardly ever asked him for anything. He wanted to have his own money.

"Fine then..." Harry sighed in defeat. Once Draco had left the study, Harry several times lightly hit his forehead against the desk in frustration.

     At first the idea wasn't working. Not many people trusted unlicensed potion-makers and Draco couldn't blame them. And no one, undoubtedly, would trust a Malfoy these days; so he had taken a fictitious name. He took his first order only almost three weeks after starting to put up an ad in the newspapers:

Dear Mr Windstorm,

My child is dying from high fever and I don't have enough money to buy a potion in an apothecary. She has dragon pox. I've already spent almost everything I had for the cure, but it hasn't worked yet. According to your ad, you don't take much money for your brewing. All I have is four Galleons and twenty two Sickles.

Please, write back as soon as you can.

Jamilyn Neill.

     And Draco wrote back immediately to specify some details. Yes, Neill's daughter had already been given the cure, which had been invented by Gunhilda of Gorsemoor a very long time ago, but it was still the best known potion for this utterly unpleasant disease. It took time for it to work though, so the dangerous symptoms could still be present within a week or so after a person who was ill had taken the cure.

     Draco knew what to do. He entered the potions lab, feeling almost ecstatic. He liked this place. He had long since put everything in order here and maintained it, just like in all the other rooms. About a year ago he'd got rid of all the spoilt ingredients and sorted out everything that could still be used. All the remained ingredients had been put under a stasis charm long ago and it still kept them fresh, though Draco knew it wouldn't last.

     He opened the window with the diamond-shaped panes of glass to let more light and fresh air in, and then opened the thick book that he'd brought here with him. Narcissa hadn't forgotten it when she'd packed Draco's and Scorpius' things before their escape from France. The book had a dark-green suede cover and Malfoy family crest on it. Draco called it his personal grimoire, even though it was actually just a thick enchanted notebook. It seemingly had about three hundred of pages when, in fact, there was one thousand, no less. Draco had received it on his fourteenth birthday as one of the presents from his father. He'd been writing in it since then. He knew that 'grimoire' sounded a little high-flown, but he liked it. He'd written down many potion recipes in it and also a lot of spells that could've been useful someday. It also had a few simple ink drawings and several (long since irrelevant) reminders. He usually quickly turned the page on which there was the incantation to repair the vanishing cabinet and a couple of other pages that he wasn't ready to look at yet.

     Since his sixth year at school he hadn't been writing in his grimoire often, but after Scorpius' birth Draco had written down a lot of useful things about child care, including the recipes of food, suitable for children, such as different kinds of porridges. And there were also a great many recipes of different purées, made of dairy products, fruit, vegetable, fish, poultry, seafood and other food products, mixed together in different combinations to be a wholesome food for those who'd started being spoon-fed, but didn't have enough teeth to chew. Draco remembered enjoying cooking for his son by himself, despite having an elf in their household. And, of course, in his grimoire there were many recipes of potions, safe and most helpful for children; for example, some potions and ointments useful during teething, and potions, good for those who'd caught cold or had any kind of allergy. There were tips on how to treat injuries and other unpleasant things. Of course, there was the aforementioned recipe of the potion that healed the dragon pox and several different recipes of the potions meant to reduce high fever, - exactly what he needed right now.

     He picked one of the recipes, for which he had all the ingredients here in the lab, and gladly set to work.

     Eventually, Semiramis, as curious as ever, had come to laze about in the armchair, because what was better than lounging, whilst looking at someone else working unhurriedly? But less than an hour later she left, disturbed by the smell of one of the herbs.

     Once the potion was prepared, Draco quickly headed to the appointed place, using the portkey, given by Potter, the item that allowed Draco to apparate to wizarding London and back to Grimmauld Place. From the point where he found himself (it was the same place every time) Draco had to walk on foot for almost an hour and a half.

     His client was very poor and lived in a tiny flat with her daughter in one of the shabbiest parts of wizarding London. Jamilyn Neill refused to pay before testing the medication, which Draco found wise. She didn't look like she'd recognised him. Either it was his traditional wizarding pointy hat that hid his hair (at least, most of it), or she just hadn't seen many pictures of Malfoys in papers. At first she tried a sip of the potion herself to make sure it wasn't something harmful, and then, feeling nothing wrong, she gave two tea spoons of it to her miserably looking daughter, entirely covered in red and greenish rash, as far as her nightshirt, soaked in sweat, allowed to judge. She was about seven years old or so and had a short auburn hair that slightly contrasted with her mother's sandy blond, but rather long hair. A half an hour had not yet passed, but the potion had started reducing the girl's fever and she fell asleep peacefully. Only then Draco was paid. He hated wasting time, because he didn't have much of it and the curse insistently reminded him that he had chores to do. But Draco understood his client's wariness, because he had a child of his own and wouldn't trust any stranger with his son's health either.

     If he was oh-so-kind and half as selfless as Potter, he wouldn't have taken Neill's money, seeing how poor she was, but he wasn't. He took all the money she gave him. After all, the ingredients weren't cheap and the money that she'd paid had brought him a very small gain. No apothecary or self-respecting potioneer would've sold it this cheap. He wasn't going to perform any more kindness than that. Even if Potter had refused to take money for ingredients, Draco would have to replenish the stock, buying more ingredients, anyway; and flasks and vials cost money, too.

     At least, he had a portkey to apparate back without wasting any more time. But, as he found himself at the entrance door, he realised that he couldn't just enter the house with three children inside, including his own, after the contact with a very ill person, even if he hadn't really approached that ill girl. He opened the door a little and, without entering, loudly called Potter, asking him to come outside. Harry, thankfully, wasn't far away and quickly headed to the door. Draco asked him to find some spell that healers used not to get infected from their patients and not to infect their own families. Draco had had the dragon pox when he'd been little, but he still could infect Scorpius and Potter's children. Harry quickly found the required spell and cast it on Draco and the area near the entrance door. It had a lingering effect, which was the bluish aura around Draco. It made both Scorpius and Albus awed and curious when the blond finally entered the house now without a fear of being contagious.

     And his new work was this hard and always took more time than he preferred to waste. He enjoyed the time when he was brewing, but he didn't enjoy the time he wasted to deliver orders. However, he had no choice. The only clients he had, lived in the poorest and filthiest districts of the city. It was a seamy side of life and he'd never seen such filth before. Some houses looked like they were about to collapse. The run-down alleys and back streets looked like places you'd never want to visit, especially at nightfall; that's why Draco preferred delivering all orders before sunset. In addition, it seemed that everything had been built for a stranger to get lost in some especially unpleasant parts of the city; there were dead ends where you expected way outs.

     Despite the fact that his clothes weren't new, it was far better looking than clothes that most people wore in those shabby districts. His clothes, actually, still seemed quite decent even for better places than this, so he tried to be as careful as possible, afraid to be robbed of that little money he gained for his work. The same reasons made him leave all his jewellery at home.

    Some man sent him the letter and offered him a good deal if Draco agreed to brew some certain substances that made people 'happy'. The money was tempting and theoretically Draco could brew anything, but he decided not to reply this letter at all. Having more problems with the law than he already had was simply unthinkable.

     Mostly, his indigent clients ordered healing potions. Some people in those seedy places had problems with their magic to the point of being almost as good as squibs (they ordered potions to make things just a little better for them if their situation could be helped at all), and some other people were physically ill with the most disgusting diseases. Draco once nearly lashed out at his client, the prostitute that offered to pay him with her body, not money. He wasn't sure he'd managed to hide his disgust at the utterly unappealing offer. And the whore had a nerve to look offended at his refusal! In the end, she gave him a dab of money, saying that that was all she had, which, he was sure, was a lie. But she had a wand and he didn't, so he left with what she'd given him, highly discouraged.

     One day Draco nearly got into a serious trouble, delivering several flasks of the potion that people usually used to accelerate the growth of some plants. He endured a great deal of uneasiness on the way to the appointed place, because his way lied through the streets with a lot of abandoned or half-ruined hovels and then there were several, supposedly safely locked, warehouses with not a single living soul around. He already regretted taking this order. Normally, he would've turned back and to hell with that order. But no! For some reason, he decided that, since he'd already gone this far and had wasted so much time and so many ingredients on brewing, turning back wasn't a good option. When he finally reached his destination after walking for so long, he was met by the slightly more decent hovels than those that he'd seen before, and they were inhabited by some very strange people, dressed in well-worn, dirty-grey hessian robes. Everyone wore the same eyesore of clothes. It looked like they were some community that preferred living separately from everyone else. Draco noticed that there were small gardens near the hovels, where local residents, most definitely, grew their food. Most definitely, that was the reason some of them needed the potion that Draco had brought with him. He would've never believed that he was still in London if he didn't know it for sure, because it didn't look like a part of the city at all. And they all looked at him like he was from the other world they'd never seen before. When he asked about the man who had ordered the potions, one of them silently went after the man, who seemed to be their leader. He looked friendlier and more civil than the others. The man explained that their only potioneer had died last week, so they needed someone else to brew, but when Draco made a tactful hint about the payment, the man said that not a single person among his followers had any money. Instead, he offered to pay with his knowledge about their religion that kept them alive without any money or magic (they seemed to have willingly refused to use magic at all, because their two gods were 'all they ever needed'. However, it hadn't stopped them from ordering potions from someone who didn't belong to their community). Draco was livid. He'd made such a long and dangerous way just to hear some insane preaching! When he demanded payment, saying that he wasn't interested in their ways, they got angry and hound their dogs on him. They weren't even normal dogs, they looked like big, excessively drooling, demonic Rottweilers with red eyes and huge jaws! Draco ran like hell, knowing that the monsters followed him. Thankfully, he had his portkey and it saved him from being torn apart. He apparated and nearly ran straight into Potter's (welcoming-looking) arms.

     Harry certainly wanted to know what had happened and he was very concerned, looking at the blond, who was recovering from the panic, but was still out of breath. Draco was ashamed, but still told everything, once he'd got his breath back. And Potter didn't look like an auror, interested in criminals to be punished, he looked like he really cared about Draco and wanted to make sure he was okay. Of course, Potter wasn't going to leave the insane fanatics alone, but Draco felt like he was much more important than that. When he gave more details about the monsters of the dogs, Semiramis (who, unsurprisingly, had been eavesdropping) was appalled and immediately joined Harry, so now they were together fawning over the upset blond until he felt that it was starting to get too much and snapped at both of them angrily for their 'stupid cooing'.

     And that was it! That incident with fanatics had exasperated him; he'd had enough. There was too much risk for such pathetic amounts of money. In order to avoid anything like that again, Draco started arranging all the meetings on neutral territory, in much safer places. He was losing most of his clients because of it, which was outrageous! They all were wizards and witches, for Merlin's sake (some squibs didn't count), they could travel without much trouble, except for those whose magic was unstable. But no! They wanted him to bring everything right in their dirty, shabby houses or in the run-down streets where they felt like home. But he didn't care any longer, because it definitely wasn't worth it.

     But, even so, it took him a lot of time. First, reading and writing letters to come to an agreement about conditions, then arranging appointments if he and his clients agreed (sometimes it took unforgivable amounts of time), then brewing, of course; and, finally, he met clients that sometimes tested potions before paying him ridiculously small sums of money.

     At the same time, he had to make his usual housework and, of course, spend time with Scorpius. It was a challenge even with the laughable number of clients he had. He didn't have enough sleep and he didn't know how much longer he was going to last like this. After a little less than a month of such a physical (and sometimes mental) stress he was starting to feel that he would hardly be able to go on. But he needed money so much...

     Despite the weariness, Draco was enjoying this day alone with his son, even though he was busy with his chores. Potter's children were with his wife until the evening, but then she came and silently left them with Draco just as she and Potter had obviously agreed. Potter himself was at work.

     For some reason, he hadn't come back at his usual time. Draco put Scorpius to sleep and then the other children, too (slightly annoyed that he was the one who had to do it), and returned to his housework. Potter still wasn't home and didn't even bother to firecall, to Draco's irritation. As far as Draco knew, he never took any night shifts. And why would he take any extra work if he knew that his children were home? He pushed the thought away. After all, it wasn't his business what Potter did after work (was it?).

     He was in the kitchen, drinking tea when he heard that someone flooed in. It had to be Potter. But then the blond heard the noise of breaking glass. It startled him and he warily headed to find out what was going on. The house was perfectly warded, but still...

     He saw Potter still standing near the fireplace. The dark-haired man was breathing heavily and looked like he was about to faint. There were pieces of the broken vase on the floor. Potter must have brushed against it accidentally and it had fallen. Suddenly, Draco saw the red drops of blood on the old, but exquisite pattern of the stone floor. He wouldn't have noticed it if Potter was standing on the carpet in some distance from the fireplace, but on the grey stone he could see the small red pool clearly. It was at Potter's foot. Draco's mind was in panic and he only managed to realise that the blood had nothing to do with the broken vase, which, most definitely, meant that Potter had been injured at work or after it. He was still in his auror robes.

     Harry reeled on his feet a little. It seemed his injuries were much worse than he'd previously thought.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked him.

"Nothing..." Harry replied quietly. "Just a fight... with several criminals... We've... arrested them, anyway," he mumbled. "Just tired..."

"You have to sit down," the blond said and actually helped him to make it to the sofa, which wasn't easy, because Harry could hardly walk. Something was definitely wrong with his left leg. Draco helped him to sit down. "Let me see..." He kneeled and started to pull up the trouser leg. The fabric was wet and very soon Draco realised that it was soaked with blood as he stopped and looked at his hands. It was, indeed, blood. Feeling uneasy, he resumed pulling up the trouser leg, this time he did it more carefully. Harry, meanwhile, put his head on the back of the sofa and tried to stay conscious. He was shaking. The pain was terrible, but, since he wasn't entirely conscious, he could bear it. He was pulled back to reality by something that could be hardly described as anything else rather than short, muffled shriek and then there was a shuddering gasp. He looked down and saw Draco shrinking back with the expression close to terror; even though everything swam in front of Harry's eyes, he saw it. The muffled, scared noises had definitely been made by the blond.

"What is it?" Harry mumbled softly. And then he saw it after trying his best to focus. His shin was badly injured and the piece of his bone, his broken tibia, was sticking out of the bleeding wound. Harry examined the damage carelessly as if looking at something in a shop and deciding if he needed to buy it. "Bloody hell," he sighed. He didn't want to concentrate any longer, because it worsened the pain.

"Potter, for Salazar's sake!" Draco exclaimed, once he'd found his voice. "How have you even managed to get home with such a fracture?! Merlin... "

"Wanted to get home... Missed children and... you..." Harry smiled weakly.

"You're delirious, Potter," Draco frowned. "I'm firecalling to Saint Mungo's."

     Harry saw him approaching the fireplace quickly, but then he stopped hearing, seeing and thinking for some time, the pain was gone, too. Later it gradually returned and he could hear and see again even if it was hard for him to focus.

     After firecalling to hospital Draco turned to Harry and couldn't decide if the other man was conscious at all. Trying to control the panic, he quickly grabbed the clean towel in the kitchen, twisted it and tied it around Harry's leg above the wound as tightly as he could. This was going to reduce the bleeding. He wasn't sure he could do anything else. Touching the wound itself meant moving that sharp piece of bone and that would only bring more harm. Draco shuddered as he saw the bone once again.

"Where's your wand? Will you be able to concentrate and cast a spell to stop the bleeding or any healing spell? Potter... Your wand," he tried. Harry only moaned. He opened his cloudy eyes. There were beads of sweat on his forehead. Draco soaked the other towel in cold water, squeezed the extra water out of it, and then returned to the living room and pressed the cold, damp, folded towel to Harry's forehead. He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd actually heard a sigh of relief.

"...Must've lost my wand," Harry finally answered with an effort.

"How could your stupid colleagues just let you go in such a state?"

"I've just... left. They didn't see, I guess," Harry shrugged.

"Of course. I wasn't expecting any less from you," Draco said sarcastically with a scowl. Harry smiled at him tiredly. In fact, Draco was very nervous and scared, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. "A healer will be here in five minutes or so," he informed, just to fill up the uncomfortable silence. He thought he should have said that it was Harry Potter who needed help. There was a good chance that it would have made the entire hospital staff floo in immediately.

"Your hand..." Harry croaked.

"Excuse me?" Draco scowled a little, trying to understand what Potter wanted from him. Harry muttered something unintelligible and tried to reach out and take the blonde's hand in his. Draco still didn't understand what the other man wanted. Potter failed to touch his hand, because, most likely, saw double or triple, so his fingers only met the air, not to mention that he felt weak. Draco didn't know what made him comply, but he did and let Harry take his hand in his. And then, to the blonde's surprise, Harry smiled and pressed the soft palm of his pale hand to the side of his own, slightly stubbly face. Potter's body language clearly indicated that he was literally begging for a touch. And Draco, for some reason, allowed him that. Harry smiled again serenely, despite the pain. Several moments later he pressed the palm to his lips and kissed it slowly and gently, before moving the hand back to the side of his face and slightly rubbing his cheek against it, and then he stopped and was just holding it against his hot skin. The palm seemed pleasantly cold and it made Harry feel an additional comfort.

"You're..." Draco started in slight confusion, but he didn't even know what he wanted to say. The other man's actions seemed very... intimate.

"Yes, I know," Harry nodded weakly. "I'm very hurt, so... I have an excuse... for acting strange; please, let me," he whispered in the end. 'What can you do when your feelings are too much to handle, too much for your sanity to take?..' he thought suddenly. The pain was definitely affecting his mind. It startled him a little; he sincerely hoped that he hadn't said that poetic nonsense aloud, but he couldn't be absolutely sure. No, he hadn't. Draco would've peed himself from laughing if Harry had said anything like that, and since Draco didn't look like he'd peed himself, everything was fine. Fine, except for Harry's broken leg and probably some other injuries. He kept holding the soft hand against his face.

"Could you just pretend that..." he mumbled, feeling himself starting to lose consciousness.

"What?" Draco quietly demanded him to continue, feeling slightly confused.

"Nothing..." Harry concentrated on the hand against his cheek to stay conscious and not to say something he would undoubtedly regret later. His eyes watered, but not only because of the pain that racked his body mercilessly, but rather because he'd allowed himself a touch (both figuratively and literally) of something that, he was sure, he would never really have.

     In his state not really soon he noticed some other person standing in front of him. Sadly, the hand was gone and he couldn't remember the moment when it had happened. The person in front of him was a woman, dressed in healer's robes. She told him something, but he could hardly understand and didn't want to understand. He couldn't care less about it. Actually, he was starting to get angry; all he wanted was that hand back on his face and to hell with everything else. Draco was nowhere to be seen, but presumably he was behind Harry, who could hardly move to turn his face and see if the blond was really there.

     The mediwitch and her young apprentice took care of Harry to the best of their ability. The broken bone was moved in the proper position after Harry had got the monstrous dose of the strong pain-relieving potion that made him stop feeling any pain from the healers' manipulations. During the procedure Harry noticed Draco from the corner of his eye. The blond was here, in the living room, but he looked very pale and refused to look at what was happening.

     The bone was immobilised to heal properly and the magical surgery was performed on the wound itself. In the end it was bandaged over some ointment application. The bruises on his body mostly faded after some healing spells, though he didn't have many to start with. They wanted to take him to St. Mungo's, but he murmured that he wanted to stay home. They tried to convince him, but he decidedly refused. Then the mediwitch asked Draco to bring Harry's pyjama, which he did, and Harry was cleaned and changed into said clean pyjama. It made him feel better and he wanted to have a good sleep now that it was over. The mediwitch's apprentice brought Harry upstairs whilst Draco led him to show where Harry's bedroom was. It wasn't the one he'd been occupying whilst living with his wife; he had the other room now, closer to the nursery, which was more convenient.

     Sleepy Harry was put into bed and covered with the blanket. The healers left some instructions to Draco and flooed away with a promise to come back the next day.

     Later Harry's colleague visited and brought Harry's lost wand. He was startled as Draco had told him that Harry had been wounded and asked a lot of questions. Draco shortly answered some of them and quickly showed the auror back to the fireplace, softly, but still pretty obviously hinting that the man had to go. Draco wasn't in the mood to deal with Potter's colleagues or anyone else for that matter. When the man was gone, the blond went to Harry's room and put the wand on the bedside table. Potter slept peacefully and Draco left quietly, not wishing to disturb him.

     Draco got up early in the morning and started the day with brewing potions that Potter needed to be healed. Without any difficulty he found all the required recipes in a couple of books, taken from library. He brewed everything that was in the prescription that the mediwitch had given him, except for one of the potions that took almost nine hours to prepare. Fortunately, all the other prescribed potions were much quicker to brew and three hours later they were prepared, as well as the special ointment. And, fortunately, Draco had all the required ingredients. Everyone else in the house was still asleep by the time Draco had finished. To his delight, he felt that the damned curse considered his brewing as work, because it was meant for his Master. He was in a rather good mood and pleased with himself, once again thinking that brewing potions was his vocation, no less.

     He visited Harry to give him several potions just as the mediwitch had instructed. He made sure the doses were correct. The dark-haired man was already half-awake. He silently and sleepily took all the potions (some of them were still warm) that Draco gave him, without questioning, because he trusted Draco, no matter what other people would have said about it. It was Draco who spoke first:

"What the bloody hell happened yesterday that you acted like a complete moron and came home with the open fracture?" he frowned. Harry took several seconds to compose himself and to remember everything that had happened to him last night.

"I was just shocked, that's all. I thought that you were here alone with the children and I just really wanted to go home. It was just a shock," he explained. It warmed his heart that Draco seemed to worry about him. At least, it looked like that, even if it was concealed with anger.

"You're not allowed to shuffle around for, at least, two weeks. I'll bring you your breakfast," Draco said and left.

     It was the first time he was cooking after a very long time (last time it had happened in hiding with Scorpius). Thankfully, there were cookery books in the kitchen.

     He cooked breakfast for Potter and himself. And for the children he cooked more appropriate things, considering their ages. He smiled as out of the corner of his eye he saw Scorpius sneaking up at him, thinking that Papa wasn't noticing him. Two little arms were wrapped around his legs affectionately, and Draco's smile widened. Scorpius looked up at him curiously, because he didn't remember his Papa ever wearing an apron before.

     When he brought the tray with breakfast in Harry's bedroom, he saw Potter coming out of the bathroom, which was connected to the bedroom by the door. Harry was leaning on the crutch and at first it confused Draco, since its origin was a mystery to him. But he quickly noticed that the chair, which had been next to the bed before, was now missing, and it made him assume that the crutch had been transfigured from it, especially given that the crutch was made from the same dark wood. Harry's face was slightly wet from all the efforts that he made not to put any stress on his immobilised, but certainly still pretty broken leg.

"What do you think you're doing?" Draco asked, wanting to scold him for getting up.

"I needed to brush my teeth and use the toilet," Harry shrugged. At first Draco felt the urge to help Potter to sit down on the bed, seeing his sufferings, but before he put the tray on the bedside table, Harry sat down heavily without any help, once again doing his best not to hurt himself in the process. He sighed unhappily, but when he turned his face to the bedside table where he saw the tray, he smiled.

"Crepes," he almost purred. There, on the plate, were three crepes with filling wrapped up in each of them. One of them was filled with caviar, the other two with sliced cheese and greens. There also were sliced vegetables, tea in the porcelain teapot, the little saucer with several thin rounds of lemon, in case Harry wanted to put it in his tea, the sugar bowl, the cup and the big green pear. The sight of all of it whetted Harry's appetite immediately and he started eating, once he'd managed to make himself more or less comfortable. He wanted to thank Draco, but the blond was already gone.

     Draco and Scorpius had their breakfast together and then Draco went to take the dishes away from Potter's room. Albus was already there, cooing over his 'huwted Daddy'.

     Harry thanked Draco, looking very content. He'd eaten everything, even all the rounds of lemon. He told the blond that he could firecall Molly Weasley, so she would take Albus and James to the Burrow, and Draco agreed. But when he left the room with the dishes to wash, Scorpius, who had heard Harry accidentally, as he'd followed his Papa, said that he wanted to whisper him something in the ear. Draco complied and kneeled, so his son could reach his ear. The boy asked him to look after them all and not to let 'Al's nanna' take his friend away. He promised to behave. Draco became thoughtful. On the one hand, he wasn't looking forward to being a nursemaid at all, on the other hand, he didn't really want to see any Weasleys here, and the woman would, most definitely, annoy the hell out of him, coming here to fuss over Potter and stay with the children right here to kill two birds with one stone and look after all of them. No, Draco would rather do what his son had asked him than endure her presence, or worse, the presence of the entire redhead family, and Potter's wife to boot. He shuddered at the thought. And why would he upset his son? His answer was positive and Scorpius squeaked happily. After kissing his boy's head Draco quickly went to Potter's younger son, because he'd heard that the toddler had already woken up and needed to be fed and looked after (unfortunately for Draco).

     There were several visits within the next several hours. First, the mediwitch came to examine Harry and then several Harry's co-workers showed up to make sure he was all right, since one of them, the one that had brought Harry's wand last night, had informed the others about their colleague's trauma.

     When they were gone, Draco brought Harry his lunch and went to do other things. And, when he returned, he started tidying up Harry's bedroom after opening all the windows wider to let more fresh air into the room. Harry, meanwhile, was lying in bed as before. Bored, he was reading the book that he'd stopped reading some time ago, because it didn't seem very interesting. Now he'd got back to reading it, having nothing better to do. But very soon his eyes left the book and turned to Draco, who was currently tidying up with his back turned to Harry. The green, disobedient eyes were concentrated on Draco's lower back and bum, where, as Harry knew, were those two adorable dimples above the beautiful buttocks on the small of the blonde's back. All of it was hidden from Harry underneath the black, expensive fabric of the trousers. But that was all right, because Harry's visual memory wasn't bad at all. Those dimples and the pale backside... Suddenly, the sick leave and the bed rest didn't seem boring at all, and the life seemed better; suddenly, he felt like Draco's presence itself was healing him, stirring all possible reserves of his body and soul. 'Lovesick fool,' he thought, smiling at himself and feeling sadness and longing in his heart, his eyes once again riveted to the blonde's bottom and back, and to everything else that Harry couldn't touch. He didn't know if it was him or the strong medication that he was taking ('It's definitely the latter!'), but he suddenly felt like he was in front of the Mirror of Erised that was cruel enough to show something that a person really, really wanted, but couldn't have.

     Draco turned his face to him unexpectedly, his eyes suspicious, as if he physically felt that the other man was eyeing him inappropriately, and Harry immediately returned to reading (or rather he made it look like he was reading). The blond seemed to have bought it and returned to work. He'd almost finished, anyway.

"It's time to take your potions," he reminded after collecting the empty dish and the cup and putting them on the German silver tray.

"I'm glad you're taking care about me..." Harry smiled, a little wryly.

"Is that what it looks like to you? Well, don't get the wrong idea about it. I just don't want to be inherited by your bitch of a wife in case you die," Draco shrugged matter-of-factly.

"My ex-wife." the dark-haired man corrected.

"Oh..." The grey eyes widened a little. 'Divorced then,' the blond thought, trying his best not to show the delight and excitement that he couldn't help but feel at the other man's words. 'It's hardly your business, so stop it,' he tried to calm himself, but his heart refused to obey. At least, the bitch wasn't going to return to live here in this house again, was she?

"Well... I'm glad that I'm, at least, the lesser of two evils if you prefer me to her," Harry smiled.

"It's hardly a reason for you to flatter yourself," Draco drawled with his nose in the air, even if it was obviously only for show. He went to the door with the tray in his hands.

"And I'm not going to die," Harry assured cheerfully behind his back.

"An annoyance I'm well aware of," the blond sneered and smirked, looking back out of the corner of his eye. Harry laughed and Draco liked this sincere sound. Meanwhile, he noticed the Siamese cat, demanding his attention and starting to rub the pointed face against his legs, and Draco realised that he'd forgotten to feed the cat, too absorbed in the other things. The feline meowed accusingly.

"Versailles, come with me. Versailles," Draco called, exiting the room. The cat followed eagerly.

"You call him Versailles? But he's Meow," Harry said with amusement.

"Versailles suits him better," the blond replied as he'd stopped for several moments.

"God, he even responds to it."

"It's proud and beautiful; of course, he does. I've been calling him that for almost a year now," Draco declared cheekily, walking away and raising his voice proportionally to the distance he made away from the room, so Harry could hear him, though it never came anywhere close to shouting.

     The green-eyed young man sighed contentedly, relaxing. Maybe breaking his leg really wasn't so bad, after all? Draco's demeanour was unusually pleasant today, which (well, that and the strong pain-relieving potion) made Harry forget that his situation was hardly something to be so happy about.

     But when he fell asleep, it was restless. He dreamt of probably finally losing his mind and ordering Draco to undress. The order was pretty stern; it was a demand. He had a power, he could even feel it, connected to the curse that had been put on the blond, and Draco simply couldn't disobey. Harry's stomach churned at the hurt and betrayal he saw on the blonde's face, but Draco complied slowly, and soon was in front of Harry absolutely naked as the day he'd been born, making Harry's heart stutter at the sight that he'd obtained against the other young man's will. In spite of self-hatred and shame, Harry's next order for Draco was lying down on his, Harry's, bed with his legs open wide, so he could scrutinise the exposed body and its intimate places, and to have a better access to them. And his despondent slave obeyed once again. He was soon lying on his back and parted his knees tentatively, turning his face aside, not to meet Harry's lustful stare...

     Thankfully, Harry woke up at this point of his dream, breathing heavily, feeling very aroused and extremely embarrassed. He blamed the medication and decided not to think about the disturbing (and very erotic) dream too much.

     After making sure everyone in the house was fed, including Versailles (also known as Meow) Draco had to spend some time in the potions lab, busy with the potion that was still simmering slowly. It was time to add two more ingredients and some water. Potter would be able to get it in less than three hours, if, of course, it wouldn't be ruined during these last hours of brewing. The potion was tricky. For the most part, Draco trusted his skills, but, with all the other things on his shoulders right now, he was a little worried about making a mistake.

     To be able to spend an hour in the lab without worrying for the children and without being distracted, he had nothing else left to do but ask Semiramis to look after them (mainly after Scorpius and Albus, because James wasn't really a problem, still unable to get out of his playpen). She agreed reluctantly.

     At first everything was fine, but then she got bored, and, in the end, her methods of babysitting included the tickle torture that she performed with the tufted tip of her tail, circling both boys. It made them shriek at the top of their lungs and finally they both wetted themselves, to Draco's horror; because, annoyed by their piercing shrieking and laughing, hearing it even from such a distance, he'd come back to the nursery to see what was going on. Both boys looked terribly ashamed, sitting on the floor next to each other, but kept giggling quietly as Draco buried his head in his hands, seeing the wet result of Semiramis' 'babysitting'. He angrily accused the sphinx of doing it on purpose and started suspecting that the bitch had probably taken some catmint (or something like that) earlier. She replied that she had just been entertaining the children and herself and that gods had not created her as a nursemaid for human cubs, and Draco had had to think about it beforehand. And then she left, slowly swaying her notorious tufted tail and leaving the blond human to deal with all the consequences.

     Despite all of that, Draco had managed to brew the potion perfectly. Today the curse was satisfied with his work much earlier than before, probably because he'd done so many things since the early morning in a shorter time than usual. But it didn't mean he could have a rest, because he still had the children to look after and to cook for all of them, including Potter. Draco was tired, but to send it all to hell and have some rest he would have to firecall Potter's relatives and endure them here. It was a very unappealing option for him. In addition, Draco's memory kept returning him to the moment when Harry had taken his hand, pressed it against his own face, kissed the palm and rubbed his face against it. Had Potter been imagining someone else, not Draco back then? His wife (well, ex-wife)? It didn't really make sense to the blond. Later he agreed with himself on the version that Harry hadn't imagined anyone else, knowing perfectly well that it was Draco's hand he was holding, but he'd been delirious because of his trauma, therefore, hadn't quite realised what exactly he was doing. Thinking about it too much ended with burnt supper to Draco's irritation. The curse, thankfully, didn't punish him, but it was displeased. And his good mood that he'd had in the morning and during the entire first half of the day was gone because of the tiredness.

     Draco wasn't really well-rested the next day even after sleeping like a log. Fortunately, the day was calmer than the previous one and the children mostly behaved. Harry slept most of the time, due to the side effect of one of the potions. The mediwitch visited again and Harry wasn't happy to be woken. But, once she'd left, he fell asleep again and hardly woke up even when Albus came to him and started jumping on his bed, for which he was reprimanded by Draco and shooed out, to the little boy's frustration and anger. Draco quickly stopped the beginning tantrum by threatening the imp that he wouldn't allow him to play with Scorpius any longer if Al intended to test his patience. It had worked perfectly fine.

     On the third day, however, the bunch of Potter's friends and relatives flooed in. Somehow they'd found out about what had happened to Harry. Perhaps, some of them knew someone among his colleagues and the information had just slipped in one of their conversations. Draco immediately faced their indignation.

"Why haven't you informed us about something like this?!" Ron growled furiously.

"We're his family and friends. You could've firecalled any of us," Molly Weasley scolded. Not as loud as the others, but there was an obvious disappointment on her face. Honestly, was she really intending to make him feel sorry? Or even ashamed? What had she been expecting from him to be so disappointed in him now? He found it truly ridiculous. But outwardly he feigned a calm and innocent surprise on his face and pressed a hand against his chest dramatically.

"Oh, my... I apologise if at some point I looked like I gave a fuck about your friendship or family bonds, or if I suddenly looked like a bloody secretary to you. I'll do my best to avoid making any of these impressions again," he said sarcastically, but calmly, and just left to the kitchen where he'd been cooking dinner before their invasion.

"Bloody git..." Ron grumbled. He actually grumbled all the way upstairs to Harry's room and people around him now and again could hear about 'that bloody Cinderella' and that Harry had made 'the worst purchase in history'.

     Harry wasn't really ready for any visits of such numbers of people. He was a little sleepy, but stoically listened to their concerns and sympathies, as well as answered their questions. And then, ignoring everyone, Draco brought him the tray with dinner and Harry livened up. The blond left immediately, followed by Harry's soft smile and "Thank you, Draco". Harry was always glad to eat anything and everything cooked by Draco, even if the blond wasn't quite perfect in it. Sometimes his cooking lacked a tiny bit of something, such as salt (of course, it wasn't a problem for Harry to add it himself), or, on the contrary, there was a tiny bit too much of something (salt or spices), or, from time to time, some ingredients weren't cooked enough or were slightly overcooked; but it was never unpalatable or tasteless. Harry didn't care and appreciatively ate and drank everything that those pale hands cooked or brewed for him.

     He politely declined all the suggestions of Mrs Weasley and some other visitors to let them live with him for some time, so they could take care of him, assuring them that he wasn't this helpless and Draco was quite enough to take care of him. However, he didn't mind to let Mrs and Mr Weasley to take Albus and James for several days, as he knew that Draco was really tired of babysitting and doing a lot of other things at the same time. Harry himself wasn't nearly fit enough to take care of children now, though it saddened him and he even felt a little guilty that he couldn't pay them enough attention.

     Some of his visitors tried to entertain him, telling him some news and just cheering him up, and he appreciated it greatly. It really made his mood better. But then they saw that he became sleepy again after eating his dinner, so they left; and they now knew that he wasn't abandoned, unattended, starved and so on, as they had previously thought, greatly concerned for him.

     Draco sighed in relief as they had left, but his little boy was very upset that Albus had been taken away so suddenly together with his brother. Draco distracted his son from his 'misery' by teaching him some new and important things. Scorpius had always been eager to learn and always happy to spend time with his Papa, especially when the boy had all his attention. But then Draco noticed that his son wasn't as attentive as before and had become drowsy. He smiled and picked the sleepy child up to bring him upstairs and let him have a nap for some time. And then he returned to his chores.

     When the supper was ready, but it still wasn't the right time to have it, Draco brought Harry all the post delivered today. It consisted of several letters, newspapers, the thick literary magazine, two sports magazines and the other magazine that Draco had never seen before, as it seemed to be some special edition for aurors and other people with related jobs (it looked like something educational and forensics seemed to be one of its main subjects).

     He entered Harry's bedroom and was met with a soft smile. Potter looked like he'd just come out of the shower and he wore the new, clean set of pyjamas.

"How do you manage to run around on your broken leg?" Draco asked curiously and not quite kindly.

"I'm using my crutch and, well... just trying to keep all my weight on the other leg. But it's terribly exhausting, so 'running around' is an exaggeration of the year," Harry replied, the tired smile still on his face.

"There are cleaning charms, you know?"

"It's not the same, as you know."

"Perhaps, we should deprive you of your pain-relieving potion, so you could actually feel that you put a lot of stress on your broken leg, anyway, and interfere with healing?" the blond frowned a little.

"Ouch..." the dark-haired man gasped dramatically. "I'm sure you're not that cruel," he grinned.

     He thanked Draco for bringing the post and noticed that the blond was looking at the literary magazine with some interest. And he was right; Draco's mother had used to read this magazine and sometimes he'd read some issues, too.

"Would you like to read it?" Harry offered and gave him the thick magazine.

"I suppose," the blond nodded and took it.

     He was actually reading it right here, in Potter's room, sitting in the comfortable armchair near the open window and enjoying some quite interesting stories and animated illustrations. Harry, meanwhile, read all the letters, addressed to him, and then opened one of the sports magazines.

"May I ask you something, Draco?" Potter suddenly said after about an hour of their silent reading. He sounded quite uncertain and Draco knew that it was going to be an uncomfortable question.

"As you wish," he answered, nevertheless.

"You may refuse to answer if you'll find it uncomfortable. I wanted to ask about Scorpius' second father. I just thought that maybe there's someone out there..." Harry said slowly and softly. The last several days of not really having anything better to do, Harry was tormented by the thoughts about that mysterious person, who was Scorpius' other parent, and, most of all, Harry wondered if Draco missed that person and wanted to see that man again. At the same time, he remembered that the family healer of Malfoys, for some reason, had concluded that Draco actually didn't know who the second father was.

"There's no one 'out there'," the blond almost interrupted, sounding a little harsh. "I'm the only Scorpius' father. He's only mine, and he's always been. And if there's 'someone out there', someone, who had some little participation in letting me achieve my fatherhood, I hope they are about six feet under the ground, feeding worms."

"Merlin... Was it..." Harry gasped quietly. 'Rape?' he finished mentally.

"Yes, it was," Draco confirmed darkly. Throughout this short conversation Draco found it impossible to look back, a little afraid of what he might see in the eyes of the other young man.

"Sorry for my curiosity," Harry whispered, seeing a hint of mortification on the blonde's face. Draco didn't reply and, though Harry wanted to know what had really happened back then, he wouldn't ask anything else. If Draco wanted to tell him more, he would have done so. He hoped that the one who had done it to Draco had paid for it dearly. He felt a little ashamed for ever feeling jealous (and, Merlin knew, Harry had felt jealous and had got himself worked up enough during the past several days).

     Almost two weeks had passed rather uneventfully. Harry's healing leg now allowed him to walk without his crutch, though he was limping, and walking up and down the stairs was a challenge. He was still taking a mild pain-relieving potion that Draco had brewed for him, and it was quite enough to dull the pain effectively. Harry still had his sick leave and didn't actually mind, even if it was going to last for two more weeks. Although the bone had mended due to the healing, the trauma had been too serious to heal sooner. But it didn't stop him from flooing to the Burrow one day to celebrate his birthday with Weasleys and some other friends as he'd been invited to the party they'd organised for him. He finally found out who Ginny's lover was. Surprisingly, it was Michael Corner, one of her boyfriends from school. Harry and Ginny weren't quite friendly with each other even though they were already divorced, but Michael approached Harry to talk to him and to make sure there were no hard feelings between them. Harry assured him that there were none and that he was perfectly fine with his presence on his birthday party (really, he couldn't care less). It was a good day for him. Even Draco said his birthday greetings when Harry had come back home. The words were calm and somewhat restrained, but Harry saw that Draco's eyes were smiling, so it improved his already perfect mood.

     Draco was relieved that Harry was now fit enough to cook, so the blond could finally stop doing it.

     Meanwhile, it had been a little more than two months of his hard working now, and the lack of sleep was really turning him into a wreck, so he'd started thinking about quitting. The curse was displeased rather often, because sometimes he didn't have enough energy to do his chores. Of course, Harry's trauma had added Draco more chores.

     His clients were as difficult as before. They demanded too much and didn't pay enough. After so much effort he still didn't have much money. At the same time, he was 'rewarded' with frequent headaches, so he knew he wouldn't be able to go on. The curse, his poorly paid job and his attempts to be a good father... It was too much.

     One day he was so tired after all the housework and brewing potions that he didn't make it to his room and fell asleep on the sofa in the living room. He wouldn't be able to remember how he'd ended up lying down on it. When he half-woke in the morning, he found himself holding both his son (who had silently joined him on the sofa some time last night) and his child's toy Nessie in his arms. Potter had obviously decided not to disturb their sleep. It was definitely Harry who had covered both father and son with the blanket. Later this day Draco was silently weeping in the potions lab, because nothing had turned out the way he'd planned and because he was very tired and wanted to fall asleep for a month or two without waking up.

     In the evening Harry found him sitting on the chair in the kitchen, most likely after putting his child to sleep and, supposedly, after finishing doing his chores for today. The blond didn't notice as Harry had entered, sitting with his back turned to the door. He was rubbing the back of his own neck and tried to massage his shoulders that looked like something heavy had been put onto them. Harry couldn't help but approach, trying to make some noise, not to startle Draco (with Harry's limping it wasn't really hard to make noise). The blond slightly turned his face to him, that was all he'd managed with his stiff and pained neck. The next moment he felt two warm hands on his shoulders. Harry didn't know how it had actually happened that he'd done something this bold, but he couldn't just look at Draco in pain. He started rubbing the sore muscles carefully. At first Draco was a little stunned, because all of it was unexpected, but very soon started relaxing and leaning into the touches. He mewled (to his slight shame) when, as the hands kept kneading him gently, both thumbs massaged the nape of his neck. Harry felt himself getting hard and tried his best to convince his body that it wasn't the best time.

"You're so tired..." he nearly whispered. He worked on the blonde's neck muscles for a few minutes and then returned to the shoulders and upper back, marvelling at how pliant, relaxed and warm he was making the other young man's body. He could see that the grey eyes closed serenely. Wasn't it a sign of trust? Draco's breathing was uneven, sometimes he sighed, which indicated both pain and contentment, as far as Harry could tell, and soon he could hear only the latter. Draco felt like he was melting and, at some point, feeling boneless, he leaned back, letting the back of his head rest against Harry's body for several short moments. Unfortunately for Harry, the blond quickly came to his senses, opened his eyes abruptly and moved forward a little, slightly flushed at his own actions. To avoid awkwardness, Harry started talking calmly, his hands never stopped rubbing and kneading.

"I'd like to give you a day off," he said.

"Do you remember what happened... the last time you tried to?" Draco murmured softly, closing his eyes again. About three weeks ago Harry had told him to have a day to rest and spend with his son, but the curse had disagreed. It had made Draco feel restless for not doing his daily work, but when he'd been tired of it and started doing his chores, it had hurt him for disobeying his Master. All that ridiculousness had forced Harry to cancel his order (or whatever it had been) and just let Draco work.

"Yes, but it works sometimes," Harry said. It had actually worked only two or three times during one full year and a few months (apart from when Draco had been hurt and Harry had had every right to let him rest and heal).

"Still..." Draco sighed. "I've been considering quitting my job... or, at least, taking a break."

"Good decision," Harry approved not only by his voice, but also through his touch. He was secretly very worried every time Draco left to deliver another order, especially after that incident with fanatics and their monstrous dogs that were a result of some experiment. And he saw how exhausted the blond was, so he, indeed, approved the decision to quit.

     His fingers moved up and gently brushed the skin behind two delicate ears and then the fingertips massaged the back of Draco's head, enjoying the feeling of soft, silky hair against his skin. His own heart fluttered at what he was doing. It was thrilling and he secretly wondered if he was going too far and Draco would eventually snap at him, but, at the same time, he couldn't stop himself. However, he wasn't the only one who was enjoying it. If what Harry's hands had been doing before was very relaxing and relieved most of the pain, now Draco felt that it was starting to become... arousing. It felt like a long forgotten feeling, so long forgotten that it seemed... new... There was a pleasant tingling sensation on the back of his head and neck. It travelled a little lower and he knew there were goose pimples forming on his skin. He could feel them on his neck, shoulders, forearms and back.

"Better?" Harry whispered. Draco couldn't trust his voice right now, he could only nod. He wanted these fingers and palms to keep teasing his nerve endings, but was a little afraid to let it go too far, afraid to let out the moan that he was holding back right now.

"Thanks," he breathed and moved forward, indicating that Harry could stop now, even if Draco really wasn't sure he wanted it to stop. He stood up, still too dizzy and too melted to move steadily. He moved the chair back to the table and turned to Harry, who was standing closer than Draco had expected.

"I'm willing to try..." the dark-haired man said softly.

"Try... what?" Draco wasn't sure the words had even reached his mind; he didn't understand what Harry meant.

"Tomorrow... I'm willing to try to give you a day off," the other man explained.

"Oh... All right," Draco agreed. Their eyes met, but the eye contact was quickly broken, and then... No one would be able to tell who had initiated it, as their faces slowly moved closer to each other as if something was softly pulling them together. Their eyes closed, their hearts fluttered, lips parted, time stopped... It felt like the entire universe had come to a standstill as if afraid to interrupt them. Another moment and their warm, wet lips would be able to join... They already felt the slight, warm tickling of each other's breathing, ghosting across their lips, and they tilted their heads instinctively. It felt perfect, partly because they were about the same height. Just for a moment their lower lips touched. And then... Someone faltered.

     No one would be able to tell who had initiated it, no one would be able to tell who had stopped it. The world started spinning again and time went on as before... Their breathing was a little ragged as they moved away from each other. Neither could look at the other. Well, if it wasn't the awkwardness, in its full sense, then what was? Several seconds later Draco managed to say that he should better go and even said "good night", though one had to have a very good ear to hear any of it, as it was very quiet and a little incoherent. Harry bade him good night in return, just as quietly and awkwardly. And when Draco left, the dark-haired young man buried his head in his hands. His heart threatened to give out from beating too fast and too hard.

     The door of Draco's bathroom was locked. The water was filling the bathtub and the blonde's clothes were carelessly lying on the chair, which was untypical of him, as he usually folded it neatly. He was standing next to it completely naked, and with almost unblinking eyes he was looking down at himself, at his proud, slightly pulsing erection. He was fully aroused... He looked thoughtful and a tiny bit confused.

     Draco had often thought that the brutal rape or, probably more likely, the subsequent pregnancy had made him impotent or just somewhat asexual, and he had resigned to it long ago, had accepted it. After all the pain that he'd endured during the birth of Scorpius, he hadn't even had a proper erection (some morning half-erections hardly counted). He'd even stopped touching himself, because he simply saw no point, since it didn't look necessary even as an act of self-soothing and relaxation, as he'd quite often done it with those purposes when he'd been younger. A couple of times he'd done something close to it during pregnancy, but then any urge had just gone. He couldn't tell whether it had been hormonal or psychological, and, frankly, he'd never tried to find out.

     And all those Harry's touches had woken his body up. He could still feel the pleasant tingling on the back of his neck and head, which made his hair stand on end, because his skin and the roots of his hair still remembered Harry's fingers. He could also feel almost the same sweet tingling on his lips, the feeling that had left after the failed kiss, the kiss that hadn't happened. Draco didn't know what to make of that incident and wasn't ready to make anything of it right now.

     He touched himself a little uncertainly and slowly started stroking his hardness, pressing his back against the wall for support. He closed his eyes and his hand sped up. Really, he didn't have to recall how to do it even if he hadn't done it for a long time. At the same time, he was still under the strong impression of Harry's touches... What if those hands, those fingers had travelled lower?.. What if they had touched his front?.. His nipples, his stomach, his lower stomach, and then his...

"Aaahh, Harry..." Draco was extremely sensitive right now, so he didn't last and barely had enough time to grab one of the towels, refusing to come all over the floor, and spent himself in it, gasping and moaning in pleasure and sliding down the wall just a little.

     He had already been quite tired before his orgasm, so needless to say that he barely had any energy after that. He managed to take a bath, but later he wouldn't be able to remember how he'd made it to his bed as if he'd fallen asleep before even reaching it.

     Meanwhile, in the other bedroom of the house Harry couldn't fall asleep with too many thoughts tormenting his mind, and none of them were coherent enough to put it all together.

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The Shards Of His Beloved