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Endurance	By : WinterRaven Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 29171 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of Harry Potter universe. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty-One
- 22-Twenty-Two
- 23-Twenty-Three
- 24-Twenty-Four
- 25-Twenty-Five
- 26-Twenty-Six
- 27-Twenty-Seven
- 28-Twenty-Eight
- 29-Twenty-Nine
- 30-Thirty
- 31-Thirty-One
- 32-Thirty-Two
- 33-Thirty-Three
- 34-Thirty-Four
- 35-Thirty-Five
- 36-Thirty-Six
- 37-Thirty-Seven
- 38-Thirty-Eight
- 18
- 19
- 20
Nineteen

Harry and Draco fell asleep curled together in the moonlight, their arms and limbs mixed up comfortably with one another’s. Their right hands were locked together, fingers intertwined and even in deep slumber, they did not come apart.

At half past four, Snape peered into the Hospital Wing to check that the students were sleeping well. To his shock, he saw Draco’s bed was occupied with another body. He quietly alerted those on guard with him—McGonagall and the Headmaster—and the three crept into the wing, wands drawn, walking in silence to Draco’s bed to find out who the other person was.

They all froze when they saw, even in the near blackness of the wing, that it was Harry’s peaceful face illuminated by the moon outside—it was Harry holding Draco protectively, Harry sleeping by the blonde’s side, his thin arms wrapped around the blonde’s bare chest. Snape and Dumbledore exchanged the briefest of looks; a small smile flattered McGonagall’s usually stern face. The three left as quickly as they came and in the empty corridor, began speaking.

“Well, that was unexpected,” McGonagall said quietly, fixing her disheveled hair as she spoke.

“Yes, it was,” Dumbledore said with a happy note in his voice. “Unexpected but welcome.”

Snape was silent; he was staring off into the distance, his brain whirring. McGonagall eyed him curiously but before she could say anything, Dumbledore spoke.

“Minerva, why don’t you go get a few hours of rest? Severus and I will monitor the students until the early morning.”

“Are you certain, Headmaster?” the witch asked.

Dumbledore nodded and McGonagall thanked him for the break, though it was abrupt. She bid them both a good evening and then trotted off to her chambers, clearly tired and exhausted from the events of the night before. Snape and Dumbledore stood alone in silence for a long while.

“Are they together now?” Dumbledore asked, his soft voice breaking the stiff quiet.

Snape was staring out a high window, clutching his black robes tightly against his body.

“I don’t know,” was his response.

“Amazing, how times of trouble can force former enemies to overcome their differences.”

Snape snorted.

“They’re being idiotic,” the man snarled. “Out in the open like this. After what happened to Draco tonight, you’d think—”

“Should they hide, Severus?” Dumbledore asked, surprised.

Snape turned to look him directly in the eye, his black orbs flashing.

“You know I wish they didn’t have to,” Snape said shortly, “but the fact is they need to. Their safety is on the line.”

“I daresay it is, but one has to admire…their daring,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle of a smile. Snape scowled at him again and Dumbledore cleared his throat and then said without segue, “How is everything between you and Lucius?”

Snape blinked.

“Fine,” he said, his eyes glinting.

“He knows about his son’s attack?”

“Of course. I informed him immediately,” Snape whispered.

“He’ll be here tomorrow?”

“In the morning, yes. In a few hours, I suspect.”

Dumbledore sighed and glanced away from Snape.

“Does Harry know about you?”

“Does he know my sexuality, you mean?” Snape questioned back. “Yes. I told him. But I also told him to be careful.”

“Wise advice,” Dumbledore murmured. “Wise advice indeed.”

They did not exchange another word, even as the sun crept up from beyond the distant hills, washing Hogwarts in its rich glow. Snape was slumped against the wall of the Hospital Wing, his back pressed against the door; despite his undying urge to sleep, he was awake, alert, his ears prickling for any sound coming from within. Though Draco’s attackers were subdued, he worried that the others might wake—Draco, Harry, his friends or his daughter but no one rose. Dumbledore whiled away the hours looking out of the window.

Inside the wing, Harry was roused by the rising sun hitting his eyelids. He yawned widely and was suddenly aware of the heavy weight pressing against his chest. He snapped his eyes open and readjusted his glasses to find Draco sleeping comfortably on him, his eyes closed in peace. Harry ran his hands through Draco’s hair, willing his body to calm down for his heart began to race so quickly it made him feel ill. He still couldn’t believe he was this close with Draco, that it was Draco who had begged him to be in this position, that it was Draco that slept soundly beneath him, slept so naturally against him. Harry admired how perfectly their bodies seemed to fit together.

Harry wished he could awaken this way every day—awaken to find such a beautiful sight before him, but he felt marred, disturbed by the bruises on the blonde’s body, the leftover cuts and scraps from the fight the night before, from the new scar blooming on his stunning face. Harry examined that face, the face he had been dreaming about for weeks now; he greedily drank in every curve and contour of Draco’s cheekbones, his soft, pliant lips, rosy pink and slightly parted; the delicate fold of skin over his eyes, his sharp eyebrows…

Harry sighed and nestled himself closer to the blonde, smiling when Draco gave an unconscious moan and pulled Harry’s body deeper in a sleepy embrace. Harry wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss Draco on the forehead, send soft kisses trailing over his closed eyes, over the scar on his face, down to his lips, but he stopped himself. Harry forced himself to be calm, to try to return to sleep, but before he drifted off into unconsciousness, he was saddened by the fact that he would likely not be this close with Draco again.

*

They were all woken at nine by Madam Promfrey; she was surprised to see the Harry and Draco sleeping together but made no comment to either boy. She gently shook Harry awake and then Draco and left the two staring at each other. In the vague distance, Harry could make out Promfrey’s figure bending over a yawning Elisha and rousing Ron and Hermione awake.

Draco’s piercing eyes were locked on Harry’s and Harry felt his breath hitch.

“You didn’t leave,” the blonde whispered, almost in awe.

“I said I wouldn’t,” Harry reminded him in soft tones.

Draco did not smile but sighed.

“Did you really think I would just leave you after what happened last night?” Harry asked quietly.

Draco looked away and sat up gingerly.

“No, you keep your promises,” Draco said, wincing as he felt his sore chest. “You stayed because I asked you to.”

I stayed because I wanted to, because I’ve been dying to feel you next to me for weeks, Harry thought.

He couldn’t bring himself to say those words, to admit them, to have them tumble from his mouth into Draco’s ears. Now that reality was settling back in, now that they were merely two boys in one bed and nothing more, Harry was sullen. Perhaps Draco had only asked him to stay because he was scared because his attackers were so close, because he needed security not because he liked Harry too. Certainly not because he wanted to feel Harry next to him, hold him, be with him.

Harry scowled at his musings and looked away from Draco. The blonde sighed again.

“Thank you for staying with me,” Draco whispered.

“It was no problem,” Harry said stiffly.

He swung himself from the bed, ignoring Draco’s look of surprise.

“We should probably get back to our own beds now.”

Draco stared; his expression was unreadable.

“Sure,” was all the blonde responded.

Cursing himself for his coldness, Harry walked back over to his side of the wing. He knew he shouldn’t be so short with Draco, the blonde was attacked after all and Harry knew full well how that felt. Harry sighed; Ron and Hermione were giving him curious looks and Elisha was smiling softly at him. She bid him a good morning and went from her bed to Draco’s as Promfrey bustled around, forcing the wakened students to drink some healing potion and have some breakfast—oatmeal and coffee.

Harry ate his food in silence, his eyes glancing back and forth from his plate to Draco. But Draco was now absorbed with Elisha; they were speaking in low voices and she was seated at the foot of his bed. Ron and Hermione breakfasted quietly as Snape and Dumbledore walked into the wing but they went immediately to Draco’s bed.

“Oy,” Ron said to Harry, pulling up a chair.

“Morning,” Harry said listlessly.

“Shared a bed, eh?” Ron asked, a huge smile plastered on his face. He nudged Harry with his elbow but Harry did not return the glee.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione whispered.

“I—I don’t know,” Harry said, putting his breakfast bowl down in front of him. He dropped his voice much lower, to be sure no one but Ron and Hermione could hear him. “Last night, Malfoy asked me to…to stay with him. So I did and we fell asleep and I was stupid enough to think that it was because he liked me but it was probably because he was scared to be alone—”

“Why are you jumping to conclusions?” Hermione questioned.

Harry blinked.

“It’s the truth,” Harry said flatly.

Hermione gave him a piteous look.

“Is it the ‘truth’ because that’s easier to accept?” she asked.

Harry did not respond to her.

“Harry, people don’t ask you to share beds with them without a bigger reason,” Hermione continued. “Sure, Draco may have been nervous or afraid but…you two haven’t had the greatest relationship... To share a bed…to ask you, he’d have to have trust in you.”

“I think Hermione’s right, mate,” Ron whispered, looking at Harry imploringly.

But Harry was looking at neither of them; he only had eyes for Draco and felt his heart swell when Draco gave Elisha a faint smile. Ron and Hermione noticed Harry’s gaze and Ron patted him on the shoulder, driving him back to the present moment.

“Whatever happens between you two,” Ron said, “you have me and Hermione right with you.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered but that was all he could muster.

He stared down at his bowl, half emptied with oatmeal, and closed his eyes, hoping against all hope that Draco did trust him, that Draco wanted him to occupy his bed because he liked Harry too.

*

Lucius Malfoy arrived in a storming rage an hour later as Harry, Ron and Hermione were cleaning up their beds. Elisha, who was by Draco’s side when his father burst in, jumped and pointed her wand at the door, as if expecting another attack. She put her wand down instantly when Lucius’ tall, black clad form stepped forward. With a pang, Harry saw he and Elisha embrace quickly before he turned to his son.

Father and son did not let go immediately; neither seemed to realize they were being watched as all eyes in the wing were on them. In the doorway were Snape and Dumbledore; Snape’s eyes, Harry noticed with surprise, were wet. Dumbledore looked solemn. Draco said something to his father as they let go and Lucius turned to Harry’s direction, his pale face inscrutable. He and Draco resembled each other very much, Harry noted, but Lucius’ harsh features were softer on Draco—their eyes too were so different, though the same hue.

Lucius stared at Harry for a while before walking toward him.

Harry felt his heart hammering in his chest. He and Lucius Malfoy had never gotten along—he remembered vividly that it was Lucius who slipped Tom Riddle’s diary into Ginny Weasley’s hands, that it was Lucius who taunted Harry’s best friends about their parentage and financial status, that it was Lucius who perpetuated the hatred for Muggle-borns. Harry felt fire rising in his face and could not help but glare at the tall man who stood before him, despite his feelings for his son. But Harry’s gaze softened when he noticed the vulnerability shining down at him.

“You saved my son’s life,” Lucius whispered hoarsely, his normally composed voice quivering. His face was lined and tense, worried and overflowing with anguish; he was gripping his hands together tightly. “You saved him. I cannot thank you enough.”

Harry gaped at the man and whispered, “It wasn’t just me—”

But Lucius shook his head, his long, silky blonde hair falling about him.

“Draco told me you shielded him, protected him and…you…you risked your life for his. You don’t understand—He is…he is my only son—”

And with shock, Harry watched the man break down before him; hot tears were spilling from his crystal eyes. Snape had rushed forward and held Lucius’ shoulders firmly in his hands. He pulled the man away from Harry and sat him in a nearby chair. Lucius cried against Snape and with a jolt, Harry swore he saw Snape bend over and kiss the blonde man’s forehead.

Harry felt everything in him reeling, everything he had thought, assumed at the sight of Snape and Lucius Malfoy together. He glanced quickly over to Elisha and Draco but neither teenager seemed surprised. Ron and Hermione, however, were as shocked as Harry. He walked over to his two friends and stood in between them. Dumbledore approached the three and asked them if they could depart from the wing for a few hours, to give the family privacy.

The three left in silence but the sound that pervaded Harry’s ears—even hours after as he sat alone in the corridor by the hospital wing—was that of Lucius Malfoy’s cries, the muffled weeping of a broken father as he was held to Snape’s chest.

*

The day was almost expired. Harry had spent it by himself. He insisted that Ron and Hermione leave him and they did, reluctantly. Late into the night, Harry walked back to the Hospital Wing, not sure what he expected to find there.

He cracked the door open; Draco was alone and awake at the furthest end of the wing. He was seated, his knees to his chest, at the last bed by Promfrey’s office; his head was on his knees and he was looking out into the night sky. Harry glanced to the left and saw the curtains were still pulled around Draco’s attackers. Amazed at Elisha’s power, Harry could hardly believe those students were still unconscious.

Harry stepped forward but Draco’s head snapped to the doorway, his eyes surprised, wide and fearful.

Draco stared at him for a long moment before pulling himself from his position. He walked to Harry, limping slightly. Harry moved to meet him, so they both stood in the middle of the moon washed wing.

“How are you feeling?” Harry whispered.

The blonde’s eyes were roaming Harry’s face before he answered; Harry felt suddenly self-conscious.

“Better,” the blonde said softly.

“Where is everyone?”

“I asked them to leave a few hours ago,” Draco said, his eyes still glued to Harry’s. “I wanted to be alone. I suspect they’re at Snape’s.”

“Oh,” Harry exhaled. He blinked and looked away, unsure of why he was there in the first place. “I’ll go then—”

He was beginning to turn but Draco’s fingers enclosed around his limp wrist. Harry stared at him in surprise; Draco’s eyes were shining intensely.

“Can we go for a walk?” he asked, in the same quiet, begging voice from the night before. The sound of his voice made Harry’s heart quiver.

“Of course,” Harry said softly.

Draco released his wrist, prying his thin fingers off one by one. Harry wished desperately Draco would have held on.

“Will Promfrey care that you’re gone?” Harry asked.

“Probably,” Draco remarked, moving toward the door.

Harry followed him out of the wing and down the empty, dark corridor. They walked in silence for some time. Side by side, they turned corners and bends, passing portraits and statues. Draco finally settled at the fifth floor corridor, an isolated space with a giant window that overlooked the Forbidden Forest and south lawns. He sat on the sill and turned to Harry, his eyes blazing. Harry could not keep eye contact; the intensity of Draco’s gaze made him blush furiously and he felt foolish.

“Any reason why you wanted to walk?” Harry whispered, staring at his shoes and trying to master his breathing.

“Needed to stretch my legs,” the blonde said, but Harry heard the evasive note in his voice.

“Right,” Harry said, gulping. He suddenly felt extremely nervous, like he had a few weeks ago when he saw Draco for the first time since summer vacation, since he began having dreams about him…

“Do you think we’ll be able to be friends?” Draco asked, breaking Harry’s musings.

Harry’s head shot up; he stopped breathing. His eyes linked with Draco’s; Harry felt dizzy. Draco’s eyes were burning into him, needing, wanting to know. The look reminded Harry of his dreams of the blonde.

“I…what?”

Draco repeated his question and when Harry controlled himself, he realized he was frowning.

“I guess you don’t want to be,” Draco whispered at the look on Harry’s face.

But something was bothering Harry, picking at him so much that he had to ask it out loud.

“I want to be,” Harry finally said, his voice even and strong. “I do but…I can’t help but wonder what’s gotten in to you lately.”

“You saved my life—”

“Even before then,” Harry said stubbornly, now crossing his arms and examining Draco’s face; Harry realized Draco’s cheeks were flushed. The blonde did not muster an answer. “It’s like you’re a completely different person.”

Draco stared at him. Harry sighed.

“Let me ask you something,” Harry said sharply, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Why the hell have you been so cruel to me—and my friends—all these years?”

Draco didn’t give him a direct answer; he responded with a question.

“Do you know what it was like for me? Do you know what it was like to get rejected by you the first day we met?” Draco asked, his voice wavering. Harry was surprised to see tears building up in his eyes and suddenly felt foolish for asking such a thing.

“No,” Harry said honestly, ridden with guilt; that day flashed clear in his mind, the day he refused to shake hands with Draco when they were so young, so impulsive. “I always assumed you hated me—”

“I did. You spurned me. You turned me down… but—but you didn’t realize, you weren’t just rejecting my hand at friendship that day.”

“What do you mean?” Harry whispered gruffly. He thought the sound of his heart pounding against his chest would echo throughout the empty hall.

Draco looked away and wiped his eyes before getting down from the windowsill. The moonlight struck his frame, the black clothes covering his body, hiding the bruises on his chest and arms; his pale skin, shining, his eyes, burning into Harry’s wide green orbs.

“I was too young to understand then,” the blonde said quietly, almost to himself. “Too young to fully comprehend what I was feeling. More importantly, why I was feeling those things… After that day, I never thought you’d feel the same way… it—it was easier to be cruel.”

Harry did not say anything but waited, with bated breath. Draco turned back to him, giving him a look of intensity that sent a jolt down Harry’s spine. Draco continued.

“But I understand now. I see things are different. I’m not afraid to admit it anymore.”

Harry stood before him, imploring him to continue. The blonde did not break eye contact. He stepped forward and Harry saw his lips were shaking slightly, his brow covered in a sheen of thin sweat, his fists curled together, trembling.

“I love you,” Draco whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”

TBC

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! All of your questions and concerns will be answered in due time. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. More soon!
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Endurance