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For the Want of a Nail	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4934 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
Chapter 21. The Approaching Curve

"We forgive you, mate." Fred grins at me, and I feel enormous relief. Merlin knows why I seek acceptance from these people, they're Weasleys for fucks sake! My ancestors are turning in their graves as I smile back at the red haired twins.
I hear Potter move towards the door behind me, but by the time I have turned around he is already gone. Turning back towards the twins, I furrow my brow at their shared grins. "What?"
"Nothing." says Fred, his grin widening further. "You're pretty good friends with Harry nowadays, it seems." George's grin matches his brother's.
"Not particularly, no." I lie through my teeth, raising an unamused eyebrow at the grinning morons. "Is there something wrong with your faces?"
If possible, their smiles only widen. George chuckles. "Oh, nothing at all. We-"
"-feel positively peachy." Fred finishes.
"You two are truly frightening human beings." I mutter. The twins laugh.
"Oh, don't pretend you don't like us." Fred teases as he walks over to the closet and pulls on a fresh shirt. "No Malfoy would voluntarily spend time with a Weasley otherwise."
I prefer not to answer the insult, mainly because it's completely accurate. I can only keep to sneering dryly. George on the other hand seems very interested in continuing the subject. "Yes, my dear brother, you have a very good point." He then turns to me. "But I was under the impression that apart from Weasleys, Malfoys are also supposed to hate all kinds of boy wonders and general heroes on the light side. Isn't that so?" George widens his eyes to make himself look unnaturally naive and innocent.
I do not like where this is going.
"Oh yes, George. That is infact true." Fred declares overly theatrically. "But then-" he turns to me dramatically. "You must not be a true Malfoy."
"Yes," George agrees, his wicked grin back in place. "For did we not see Harry holding your hand just now, before your dramatic apology?"

Fuck.

"Highly doubtful." I drawl dryly, in a feeble attempt to deny it. How could I be so stupid as to not react to the fact that Potter was holding my fucking hand in front of the Weasleys?! No wonder the twins were looking at me weirdly when Potter and I entered the room. And here I thought it was because of the attack. Apparently I am not as scary as I thought. Damn.
The twins grin at me for a long moment, obviously not buying my lie. "Whatever you say, mate." Fred chuckles, looking at his brother.
"Yeah," George sneers wickedly. "We'll find out the truth sooner or later."
Unfortunately, I am quite positive that they will.

___________________________________________________________________

"Come on."
He leans over the back of my chair, breathing seductively into my ear. "Tell me what's wrong."
"I have work to do." I mutter, trying to keep my focus on the book in my lap. As if that was by any means possible with Potter's husky voice by my ear.
"You have a huge amount of inane work assinged to you by none other than yourself. Now I order you to take a break." Potter reaches over and twists the book from my grip, pulling it out of my reach. I twist in my seat to face him.
"What is it that you want?"
A clearly practiced pout graces Potter features. "I want you to tell me what's bugging you."
I sigh. "It's just the twins. Nothing for you to be concerned about." Yet.

"The twins?" Potter sounds suddenly concerned. "They're not still weird about the... incident, right?" He meets my gaze gravely.
Another deep sigh escapes me. "No, it's nothing like that. It's just that..." I take a deep breath, pondering on how to present the issue at hand. "They're just being a little nosy, that's all. About us, I mean."
"What do you mean?"
A crease forms between Potter's brows. I curse inwardly. I knew I shouldn't have told him. Potter overreacting always leads to certain disaster. "It's nothing, really. They just hinted on certain things a few days ago." I mutter nonchalantly, looking around to find another book to disappear into.
"What things?" Potter asks gravely, taking a seat on the armhold of my chair. I lean back into the opposing arm hold to face him.
"Nothing much, just how it is somewhat weird for a Malfoy to be holding hands with Harry Potter." I drawl, raising a meaningful eyebrow at the raven haired boy. Clueless as he is, he ponders on the matter for a moment before realisation dawns on him.
"When have we- OOH!" he exclaims, his eyes widening comically. "Shit!"
"My sentiments exactly." I mutter. Though my sentiments would be less plebeian. Potter rubs his neck absentmindedly, as if the source of his limited intelligence lies there. "What should we do?"
This was exactly what I feared. "Absolutely nothing." I state, scoffing at his doubtful expression. "They suspect nothing even remotely close to the truth. Mostly they just want to get me to admit that I like you. You know: like, as in a totally platonic way. Therefore we will lie low, giving them no further reason to suspect anything."
Potter seems to consider my words for a minute before a grin spreads on his face. " 'Giving them no further reason to suspect anything'? Would the two of us sharing a chair count as such an act?" He grins wickedly, leaning closer to me, laughter in his eyes as always when I contradict myself.
I sneer. "If you wish to leave, be my guest." I murmur huskily, my tone of voice giving no indication to the fact that I would like for him to leave. Not that Potter takes any notice of my words, anyway. He leans ever closer, his face only inches from mine as he whispers: "It's been a week since you fed, right?" As if he would have to ask. He knows exactly how many days it's been. He always does.
I refrain from answering and instead claim his lips in a fierce kiss. His hand reaches out and entangles itself in my hair, tugging my head backwards as he climbs into my lap. Potter's other hand caresses my chest, seductively unbuttoning the buttons on my shirt. My hands reach out and we break the kiss for as long it takes for me to tug his over-sized T-shirt over his head. Shirtless, he now straddles my legs properly, claiming my mouth anew. I draw my hands over his naked upper arms and back as the kiss intensifies, my nails leaving long red lines in their wake.
Out of breath and trembling from anticipation, I feel the shivers travelling down Potter's spine as my hands reach the small of his back. He breaks away, panting lightly, husky eyes smiling down at me. He runs a hot hand up my stomach, butterflies forming under his grace. The hand reaches my face, and lightly caressing my cheek Potter runs his thumb over my upper lip and kisses me with a light smile. As he breaks away for the second time, I feel my fangs erupt. I can hear the beat of Potter's blood racing through his veins at a furious speed, but he keeps smiling at me. Still keeping my face still with his hand, he leans closer, offering me the side of his throat. "Take me." he whispers, the end of the sentence breaking into a gasp as I bite down.
The glory of this moment never fails to amaze me. The mixed sensation of the metallic liquid filling my mouth and Potter panting in my ear, his fingers digging into my shoulders desperately, never ceases to enthral me. His heart beats furiously against my chest. I feel it to the core of my being, beating into my soul the rhythm of Potter's breathing, the incoherent words spilling from his lips. As my frenzy for his blood starts to take off, Potter's sensation seems only to intensify. When I start lapping at the wound I have left on his smooth neck, his whole body trembles from pleasure.
As soon as I pull away from his neck he crushes his face to mine, ravaging my mouth as his skilled fingers start to unzip my trousers. Our attempt to rid both of us of our trousers in the small chair turns out to be quite feeble. I have never been a patient person. I roll down onto the floor, pulling Potter with me. His protests are soon silenced by my mouth as I pull off my trousers and straddle him.
I pull away to start unbuckling his belt, watching in awe as he stretches out in front of me, his olive skin striking against the stone floor, glistening from the warm light of the fire. I prepare him quickly, and he gasps breathlessly when I enter him. The stone grinding almost painfully into my knee caps, I move in him slowly, the fire flickering beside us. He moans loudly, incoherent sentences escaping him as he reaches out on the floor for something to hold on to. Finding only hard, cold stone, he settles for digging his hands into my back.
"God... Ooh... fuck! ..Draco!" he pants, eyes closed and breathing irregularly. His heart is beating louder than ever, somehow anchoring my body to his. Entwining our souls into one being, our heat like the fire beside us. In this ecstatic, frenzied moment neither of us hold on for long, and soon we are pushed over the edge simultaneously; him crying out loudly, me repeating his name as I pump into him furiously.
As we lie on the floor afterwards, I find my greatest pleasure in listening to his irregular breathing evening out. "Wow." he utters when the words finally find him again. "I guess this qualifies as one of those things that would give the twins further reason for suspicion?"
I prepare a biting comment to his insolent comment, but my mouth refuses to form the words. I can only scoff noncomically. Though I can't stop the malicious smile that spreads on my face as I imagine the twins' faces were they ever to stumble upon an incident such as this. It would be quite a comical scene.
Then again, perhaps not.

___________________________________________________________________

Another useless meeting. I sit for hours at end at the end of that dreaded table, listening to members of the Order repeating the same inane observations of this war as always. There are never any changes, never any valid information. Everything told just keeps coming back to the fact that the war is acceleratingly getting worse. Fast.
What do they expect from us? Locked here behind these walls for all this time, how are we to understand the horrors of Muggle-born and 'blood-traitorous' wizards and witches, going into hiding just so they won't become the next victims of rampaging Death Eaters? We have not seen Hogwarts slowly emptying from students, nor Hogsmeade closing up its shops for an indefinite amount of time.
We do not understand this. What do they expect us to do?
But of course, there is one of us who does understand. I watch Draco's stone-like face as he listens to the horrors Kingsley and Dumbledore describe. For he has been there. He has seen it.
No, worse. He has grown up within this corruption. Rather than being a victim, he has been the inflictor. And now that he is the victim himself, we won't accept him. The Aurors, the Weasleys, even Dumbledore sometimes, look at him as if he were the villain here. As if he could help being born a Malfoy. As if he didn't chose us over them already.
But they do not see what I see. They do not see his face now carved in stone, not from indifference and malice, but from concealed pain and ache. They have never watched his mask fall, his walls crumble down from sheer desperation. They never have to witness him trying to rebuild those same walls each day.
Of course, I too have a rare privilege to see those things. It is not often that I manage to see a crack in that perfect Malfoy-armour of his. When that happens, he conceals the failure so quickly, so thoroughly that by dawn no traces of his scars are visible. It is as if I had imagined the whole thing. Much like our relationship, the human part of Draco seems to be something only for private eyes, something shameful to hide from the rest of the world. But much like our relationship, I have a hard time understanding why it must be kept hidden. I can't help but dream that if we were to be pulled out of this secrecy, than maybe I wouldn't have to work so hard to make him show me the true him. To make him happy.
But he would never let this become known. Even now, like a hawk he watches me from the other end of the table. Looking after me, protecting me. Even from himself.
Sometimes I wonder if my fate truly is to die in this war. Maybe he knows it. Perhaps that is why he is so protective of me, always shielding me from others and himself. Perhaps he knows that us being together will only hurt us both in the end.
But if that is how it is, than I will not give this up. I will live the last while of my life fully. Perhaps I truly will have to die and leave Draco behind. But until that time, I will remain selfish and keep him by my side. For he will live on for a thousand years, and he will forget me in two.
I only realise that I am frowning when Draco meets my gaze with a concerned gaze. I hurry to smile back reassuringly, and while still looking doubtful, Draco turns back to listen to Dumbledore.
Yes. I keep on smiling. For there is nothing to grieve about. What is my suffering compared to that of those tortured Muggles? What are my tears to those of people losing their families in this war?
What is the loss of my life if it can save theirs?

___________________________________________________________________

"Draco. Draco?"
I turn my attention back to Dumbledore, trying to avert my thoughts from Potter. Why does he wear that face again? It makes me feel so uneasy, so desperate when I see his features twisted in sadness. He will never tell me what it is. Because I already know. He hates the secrecy, the lies he has to tell to keep our relationship unknown. Time and time again I have to remind him that it is essential to the outcome of this war.
But he does not understand. He did not grow up in this homophobic community, hating anything slightly differing from the normal. In a world relying completely on age old tradition, different has in time become dangerous. Even for the Golden Boy, coming out would have serious consequences.
"Draco?!"
Dumbledore wakes me from my thoughts again. I wonder when it has become this hard for me to remain concentrated.
"Yes?" I answer politely, in no way expressing my embarrassment for being caught spacing out staring at Potter. Dumbledore smiles at me warmly. Too warmly. No one smiles at a Malfoy sincerely.
"Have you found anything new through your research?" the old coot asks, sipping his tea. I sigh. This is the moment I have feared. The moment where I have to admit to all of the Order members and myself that nothing of particular use can be found in the Black library. And the consequences of that.
"No. Nothing." I admit gravely, keeping my face in check and bracing myself for what I will have to say next. "I think I might have to research the library at the Manor."
"Malfoy Manor?" Mrs Weasley asks incredulously. Fool. Of course Malfoy Manor. If there is one library better than that of the Black family, it is the Malfoy one.
"Yes." I have dreaded this. This horrendous instant where I have to volunteer to go back to that place. That place of my ancestors, of my family, of all that I've now turned my back on.
Dumbledore smiles as widely as never, but everyone else look quite sceptical. They fear that letting me out of their sight will cause me to run to the Dark Lord and rat them out. I can't exactly blame them.
Potter looks at me with a worried frown. I hurry to turn my gaze away from him. Thinking about him right now will only make this worse. "I think there will be more useful material there."
"That is probably true." Dumbledore agrees. "But I cannot agree to be opening the Floo here all the time. It is far too risky." A knot forms in my stomach at the words. Not that I hadn't expected them. I had only hoped-
Only hoped.
"I understand that completely." I agree in what I find is a very small voice. Coughing once I reattain my usual cold vocals. "I was thinking about going there for maybe three or four days? Then I would spend a couple days here before returning there if needed." A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of staying in that massive house alone for three days. I suppress the desire to scream.
"That s probably a good idea." the Headmaster nods thoughtfully. "The arrangement would of course require that you stay hidden in the Manor as well. We cannot let you be seen. It would raise too many questions."
"Of course. It would by no means cross my mind." I state, and imagine I can see the heavy burden fall of the shoulders of several Order members. It will be easier for them to supervise that I don't have any suspicious interactions with anyone if I am only allowed to stay inside the estate borders.
"Would you like to leave immediately?" Dumbledore asks, and my silent heart freezes in my chest. "I could open the Floo 'til tomorrow morning, and you could return on Friday?" I breathe out. So he didn't mean immediately immediately.
"That will be just fine." I agree. My eyes then flicker towards Potter, who stares at me sadly, unshed tears in his eyes. I marvel at his stupidity to always wear his heart on his sleeve. He seems to recognise my irritation and blinks frantically to rid his eyes of the fluid. I turn my gaze away, rising from my seat. I can't stay and deal with Potter right now. "If you excuse me, I think I will go and plan for tomorrow. I'll leave you to enjoy your meal."
I leave the room just as Mrs Weasley brings in the chicken soup.

___________________________________________________________________

"Draco!"
I don't even make it to my room before he shouts after me. I turn around slowly in the shadowy hall. "Yes?"
Potter stares at me in the shallow light of the rays the setting July sun is letting through the window. His jaw is tight and his eyes are blazing, but I do not know if he is angry with me or just feels sorry for me. I don't know which I detest more.
"Why must you go there?" He approaches me slowly, carefully taking my hand in both of his. I realise that he detests the image of that house almost as much as I do. But naive as he is, Potter still seems to think one can only do the things one wants to.
I clench my jaw. "Because I have to. I do no good here." I declare, pulling my hand from his grasp as I enter the familiarity of my room. "Why is it such a big deal, anyway? It's not like I'm leaving you."
Potter lets go of my hand reluctantly, a pained expression on his face. "Are you sure?"
Unable to look at him, I turn to face the window. No, I'm not sure. How can I be sure about anything right now? I'm not sure that I won't be leaving him after this is over. I'm not sure that he won't be leaving me.
Because that's just it. The reason I fear that house, that realm of my past so much. I fear that it will change me back, make me again who I once was. Who I was supposed to be.
"I'm not sure about anything anymore."
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For the Want of a Nail