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Harry Potter and The Sanguine Brother's Bond	By : OranjeJoe Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7043 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2 - A Hint of Vanilla

Draco’s mind stirred lazily as the mid afternoon sun shone far too brightly on his pale face. He grumbled unintelligibly as he began to untangle himself from the sheets. A smile crossed his lips as he maneuvered his body against the soft fabric, feeling it rub against him in that pleasurable way only ever felt when one dreaded getting out of bed. The soft mattress seemed to cling to him as he gathered the will to get out of bed and shut the curtains.

Even though it was well into the afternoon, Malfoy desired nothing more than to go back to sleep. He groaned as he swung his feet out over the edge of the bed and had almost hauled his upper half off the mattress when he gave up and collapsed back into it with a smile. He felt the small tingle of pleasure as his body got what it wanted.

A small, sharp tap on the window caused the blond to jerk up and stare groggily at the window. He wore a stupid look on his face so unbecoming of his lineage. He untwisted his hips and sauntered clumsily over to the shinning white owl perched on the window ledge.

Draco seemed to forget what his intentions where as he approached the window, having gotten one hand around the latch before he stopped and squinted stupidly into the sunlight. Hedwig gave an irritable hoot and rapped the window with her beak once more. Jumping slightly, Malfoy fumbled with the latch but finally managed to pry the window open; Hedwig leapt passed him and fluttered to perch on Harry’s bedside table, peering judgmentally at Malfoy as he stumbled back to bed.

Having shut the curtains, Malfoy now lay half naked and sprawled on his bed, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

Perhaps it was the way Malfoy attempted to close the window, making a loud slamming noise, or perhaps it was Hedwig’s barely audible, but incessant, hooting that woke Harry. Either way he opened his eyes groggily and reached for his glasses.

Propping himself on his elbow, Harry blushed as the pale form of Draco Malfoy came into focus. Harry immediately looked at the one smooth leg that dangled over the edge of the bed, but looked away in embarrassment as he found his eyes wander up to one of Malfoy’s less slender forms.

Another soft hoot from Hedwig made Harry jump, as if he had just been caught committing a crime. He took the letter and began to read it immediately. It was short and to the point, full of shocked disbelief that Harry and Malfoy were sleeping peacefully in the same room. Harry then read the small post script that informed Harry that if he didn’t respond to the letter immediately, Ron was going to inform the ministry that Harry had been murdered, and that he and Hermione would be coming over in a flurry of curses.

Chuckling quietly to himself, Harry looked around the dark room and realized he had no idea what time it was. Hastily he pulled out his quill, and wrote his response right on the back of Ron’s letter. His sleepy hands felt stiff as he made to quell his friends dramatic worry. Sealing the scroll and tying it back onto Hedwig’s outstretched talon, Hedwig flew out the still open window.

Harry puzzled at this fact, but soon understood. He looked over at the disheveled looking blond and realized that Hedwig must have woken him up, and in his haste to get back to sleep he had failed to close it properly.

Harry got up and stood by the window, feeling the warm summer air against his bare skin. He smiled and squinted his eyes like a cat, bathing in the sunlight. He marveled at the novelty of it. Not only had Malfoy asked to come along when Dumbledore came to fetch him, but now they had spent the night mere feet from each other in complete peace.

Harry wondered how few people had seen the smile that Malfoy had shown him last night. Even among his supposed friends Harry could not remember him ever looking truly happy. He was determined to find out just how much the steely eyed Slytherin had changed.

“Nice arse, Potter” said Malfoy with a sly smile.

Immediately Harry reached for his robes, blushing profusely as he stalked off towards the bathroom, wondering how long Malfoy had been awake. Harry gasped as he pushed open the door to the washroom. Before him stood a miniaturized version of the prefects bathroom at Hogwarts. The pool looked big enough to sit two or three people comfortably, and all of Harry’s favorite taps glistened around two large columns at the far end.

“Did you finally manage to find your dick then?” called Malfoy when he heard Harry’s surprise.

“Shut it Malfoy.” spat Harry defensively. Changed or not, it seemed they were not above their petty squabbles. As he bent down to turn on the vanilla scented tap he decided it wasn’t so bad, their bickering could be quite fun sometimes.

Harry sank into complete relaxation only a few minutes later as the tub continued to fill, mulling over the past six years of his relationship with Malfoy. It unnerved him the way it felt so natural to let this eyes rake over Malfoy’s exposed skin.

He was oddly reminded of his timid relationship with Cho and how, now that he thought about it, though he had admired her beauty it probably wouldn’t have held his interest for long. Sure she had had a smile that caused Harry’s stomach to wriggle in delight, but her the rest of mannerisms had never held much sway over him, not really.

And then there was that stupid girlish giggle that all girls seemed carry around in their back pocket for occasions when men wanted to ask them serious questions. Harry found himself imagining Draco surrounded by a group of Slytherin girls, giggling coquettishly and batting his lashes from across the potions dungeon.

“Would you hurry the fuck up in there!?” Harry was laughing at the image in his head when the muffled sound of Malfoy’s voice carried through the door. “Think it’s funny do you, potter?! I HAVE TO P-” Malfoy quickly swallowed his last word as he pounded into the bathroom, and stood staring into the room with much the same astonishment Harry had.

Evidently Malfoy’s mouth still had his last word on his tongue when he began speaking again because he finished, “pee... vanilla?”

“You have to pee vanilla Malfoy? Might want to get that checked out.” said Harry giving Malfoy a sarcastic look over his shoulder.

“No,” said Malfoy with confused innocence, “vanilla, it- it’s my favorite.”

Both boys seemed to be startled by Malfoy’s accidental confession. They locked eyes, and Harry was taken aback by the depth of those steely gray orbs, something that had always been concealed from him behind a shield of smug hatred. Malfoy was the first to recover, “Take a photo, Potter, it might even do a strip tease for you if you’re lucky. Look away, I’m getting in.”

Harry was so taken aback that his first attempt at speaking came out as a disgruntled huff, before he finally managed, “I - you… mmm - what?”

“I. Am. Getting. In. Move the fuck over, or do I have to say it again?” Malfoy had hooked his thumb over the edge of his underwear and was beginning to tug.

Ordinarily Harry might have put up more of a fight when another bloke asked to get in the tub with him, but as it was he was too flustered, and merely shifted over, looking determinedly into the corner.

He felt the water rise slightly as Draco lowered himself into the tub. Harry tried hard to convince himself that the tingly feeling that was rushing up and down his body was normal, and had nothing specifically to do with the fact that Draco was fully nude under the water next to him.

After all, he had felt some semblance of this in the showers after a Quidditch game, the hot steamy water and the athletic bodies of his teammates had given Harry something to be embarrassed about on more than a few occasions. He had been stupid not to realize it before now, his appreciation of the male figure had started long before he’d seen Malfoy’s bare skin glowing in the moonlight.

Harry had always convinced himself that if he’d been around a woman this way it would be just as arousing, but now, sitting here with far too few inches between him and the lithe blond to right, he was not so sure. Harry sucked in a hitched breath and turned to look at Malfoy, whom he was pleased to see looking stony faced and just as nervous.

- - -

He didn’t know what had made him do it, but when he felt the intensity of Potter’s gaze, something carnal had stirred somewhere inside of him. It had been something that he had been attempting to suppress for most of his life. Draco had always felt like some part of him was missing, or rather, submerged under layer after layer of formality and expectation. Being a Malfoy had always required him to keep a certain objectivity about his friendships, which grew even more important when he became a Death Eater.

He looked bitterly down at his forearm, the snake seemed to squirm and hiss under his gaze and he felt a familiar tingle running up and down his arm. He winced, thinking about the loneliness and fear that had gripped him so terribly last year. His paranoia had driven him to extremes, and he regretted the fearful obedience that he now expected to see in the eyes of his peers.

“Does it hurt?” Draco had originally thought Harry had read into his mind and was asking about the loneliness, but he soon realized the question referred to the dark mark. “It used to, but now it just sort of….”

“Tingles.” Harry didn’t say it as a question, it was as if he knew what he was talking about.

Malfoy looked at him, taken aback. Harry smiled and reached a hand up and into his hair, revealing his lighting scar. He then ducked his head and turned to Malfoy, opening his eyes in that dramatic fashion that gave Draco momentary tunnel vision. All he could see were the glistening green eyes boring straight into him. Draco knew little else apart from the fact that he had never felt so alive as he did at this moment, staring into the eyes of his once most hated enemy.

He could no longer deny it, he found Potter attractive. Along with the feelings of loneliness and solitude, Draco had been trying to squash his attraction to the green eyed boy since the previous year. It had started as jealousy, concerning the undying dedication of Harry’s Gryffindor comrades, but it quickly blossomed into admiration. Draco knew that as much as Harry relied upon his friends, he always lived as though he was shouldering the burden himself. This unwavering arrogance had always driven Malfoy up wall, but a subtle change of perspective took place when the Dark Lord gave him his most dreadful task.

He remembered the way he used to startle himself in the mirror, looking increasingly gaunt as the days slipped past. The weight of the task had been torturous; Sure he had always hated the old git of a headmaster, but Malfoy had never prepared himself to be a murderer. And when he saw Harry going about his day as if nothing had changed, as if the Dark Lord had not risen once again, sitting through his classes as if the only thing that mattered was the potions essay that was due later that day, Malfoy’s crippling insecurity began to eat away at him once again.

He tormented himself with thoughts of Harry’s strength and became absolutely irate when he saw him staring across the great hall with stolid determination blazing in those bright green orbs. The moment of truth, so to speak, came to him as he lay in the hospital wing, trying not to move incase he reopened the gaping wounds he had received in his duel with Potter. Crowded around his bed were Pansy Parkinson, Crabb, and Goyle; he had been trying to convince Pansy that he would be fine so that she could stop her incessant girlsh worrying. He knew that her determination to get into his pants came not from an admiration of his personality, but rather, from a whorish dependancy on his looks and his heritage. Crabb and Goyle offered nothing but stupidity, as usual, but did manage to pass Malfoy the letter that had been delivered from home.

Malfoy Clenched his teeth as he remembered the feigned concern that his father had written into the letter. He was doing nothing more than checking in on his ‘investment’, reminding him how important it was for the Malfoys to regain their good graces with the Dark Lord. It was later than night, when he was softly crying in despair that something snapped within him. He saw laid out before him, the entire life of sheltered privilege, control, and feigned happiness that he had led up until this point. He saw himself growing old and cunning like his father, groveling at the feet of the most selfish man in existence. He saw himself, forcing his own child into this life of darkness, like leading cattle to the slaughter house.

In one glorious moment the elaborate machine that had been the web of his priorities came spluttering to halt and imploded. It was as if he’d been chained to the bottom of the lake and had suddenly been set free; he rose up through the layers of darkness and cold. Rising to the surface, he had taken his first sweet breath of freedom, and was crying for the sheer joy of being in control of his own destiny for the first time in his life. He had renounced his father, he had renounced the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore it seemed, knew all about it.

He heard the door to the hospital wing open, and Draco smiled wider than he’d dared since the innocence of youth, feeling no bitterness towards Dumbledore’s omniscience. Dumbledore had a knowing twinkle in his eye, and a warm expression that never left his face, even as Malfoy gave his confession. Like the father that Lucius could never have been, Dumbledore did not pass judgement, and to Draco’s absolute astonishment, the old man clasped Draco’s hands in his and forgave him.

He lay awake in bed long after Dumbledore had left, possessed by a singular idea. He had been wrong about Harry James Potter, and owed him and apology.

Draco smirked as he sank a little further into the sweet smelling bubbles that surrounded him, think about how it had taken them both just about the same amount of time to live up to their promises to apologize. He looked over at Harry, almost about to tell him how much he had played a role in who Draco was, in who he was becoming, when he saw that the boy was leaning his head against the side of the tub, smiling. He was momentarily transfixed, but changed tack as quickly as a small boat out in a sea (of bubbles).

“It’d be nice if you could wait until I’m at least out of the tub before furiously touching yourself to thoughts of me.” He said teasingly, reaching one hand up to stroke sensually across his chest. Whatever Potter had been thinking, it was gone from his mind the instant he laid eyes on Malfoy. Unfortunately his face became impassive and unreadable before Malfoy could decide if Harry liked what he saw, or was merely surprised.

It was neither.

Harry had been going through his plans for their Patronus lessons in an attempt to keep his mind off of Malfoy’s possible motives for sharing the bath. He had half convinced himself that Malfoy did it to save water, regardless of the fact that he knew Malfoy’s spoiled nature would never think of such frivolous things.

He had also decided that his compassion for the blond extended no farther than pity and guilt. Pity and guilt. It was that simple. And in order to keep himself from examining the problem any further he began to conjure his happiest memories, the ones he kept close at hand for use in the Patronus charm… and those times when he felt most alone in the darkness of the night.

Harry had just relived the moment when Sirius had asked him about staying a Grimmauld place over the summers. He remembered the disbelief, and then felt once again, the sudden eruption of unbridled joy. For a brief moment Harry almost felt as if Sirius could return from beyond the veil when that ferretous git had made it all come crashing down around him.

He fit himself with a stony look, determined not to let Malfoy see his pain, and rose, turning his body away from the blond as he slid out of the spacious tub. Malfoy did not turn around as Harry grabbed a towel and made for the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. “You will need a happy memory for the Patronus, Draco, shouldn’t be too difficult for our pampered little pureblood prince.” He slammed the door with unnecessary force, but not before he saw Draco slump into the side of the tub. Harry dried himself with the flick of his wand and was soon walking down the stairs, having ripped on a fresh pair of robes.

Harry walked into the dinning room and was startled to find Narcissa and Tonks chatting animatedly over afternoon tea. Contrary to being surprised, or even relieved to see this, it served to sour his mood even further. He spun on his feet and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving the hint of vanilla and two rather stunned women in his wake.

He wandered the halls for a few minutes, before deciding to hole himself up in the drawing room. Harry’s head was spinning from the heat of the bath, and his emotional turbulence concerning a certain insensitive blond. Harry still wanted to hate Malfoy, he realized as he lay sprawled on the plush carpet of the newly renovated drawing room. He looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows which, it seemed, had been bewitched to reflect the mood of the observer. The trees on the street below creaked and bent in the gusty air as dark clouds gathered over head.

Six years of loathing could not be erased by one or two valorous acts. No, Malfoy would have to prove himself worthy of Harry’s compassion and friendship. He knew, no matter how much people appeared to change, a clean slate was only an ideal. An Ideal that belonged with people who were too trusting, not with people like Harry, who were steeling themselves against mortal peril.

Malfoy felt the corner’s of his eyes sting slightly as he lay his head against the marbled edge of the tub. He had fucked up. He had let his snide tendencies get the better of him. But still, how was he to know that Potter had been savoring some happy memory? He thought about what Harry had said, and determined that it must have been something concerning Sirius, given the anger and sadness that had laced Harry’s retort. Harry only reacted with this much emotion when it concerned his family, or lack there of thought Malfoy with note of pity.

Draco remembered the painful night he spent alone in this house with Dumbledore, thinking that his mother too, had abandoned him. He smiled as he remembered revealing his feelings to his mother including his growing, but then uncertain, ideas about Harry. She had smiled and held him in an embrace, mumbling something about what ever made him happy. Yes, thought Malfoy, that had been one of the happiest moments of his life, even if it was only because of the contrasting despair he had been wallowing in. His thoughts once again returning to Harry and his parting words, Malfoy winced as he realized that Harry would never feel the comforting arms of a mother. He sank lower into the tub. The bubbles were long gone, and the water beginning to turn cold when Malfoy finally hauled himself out of the tub.

Harry lay on the floor looking out into the calm evening sky, and sighed deeply as Malfoy stepped timidly into the room.
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Harry Potter and The Sanguine Brother's Bond