Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Stag and The Snake	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
Chapter 13 – The Sound of Settling

Harry felt as though his mind was set in a permanent state of red alert. The first dawn came, and Harry twisted into ball, every muscle taut and bracing himself for the change...but it never came. He looked up, eyes bulging and body quivering with tremors. Draco lay next to him, looking on helplessly with a broken look in his eyes. He reached out a hand and caressed Harry's sweat-soaked cheek. “Do you believe me now?” he had not meant the words maliciously, but Harry still felt them cut. He winced, and Draco quickly retracted his hand.

Harry pulled himself back up and lay next to Draco, the anxiety attack had left him feeling nauseous and shaky. Draco draped an arm across Harry's midsection and pulled him close. Harry allowed himsef to be pulled in, and he pressed his cheek against Draco's clavicle. “It doesn't feel over,” Harry muttered, looking anywhere but at Draco. He hadn't even seen the body. Was Snape really gone? He still half expected him to turn up and take him away from his loved ones again. The thought caused another wave of sick to wash over him, and he shivered.

“He's gone Harry,” Draco's voice was quiet, patient. Harry could recall repeating himself over a dozen times over the course of the evening, but where others would have gotten fed up with his stream of repetitive words, Draco never did. He listened patiently, and would recount again that his tormentor was really, truly gone. Each time, a haunted look filled Draco's eyes, and Harry felt a pang of guilt.

Harry reached out and brushed his fingers through the fine blond strands. Draco's eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch. “I'm sorry,” Harry murmured, allowing his arm to fall against the side of Draco's neck, brushing the soft skin there while he eyed Harry with confusion.

“Sorry for what?”

“For—for well, you know.” He'd seen death before, but to be the cause of it...Harry couldn't even begin to imagine how it must feel, even for someone who deserved it. He couldn't bring himself to finish the phrase, but Draco seemed to understand what he was getting at.

“That wasn't your fault Harry,” Draco murmured softly, and he shifted closer to brush a gentle kiss against Harry's lips, one that he all-too enthusiastically returned. “Please believe me,” Draco said when he broke the kiss, looking into Harry's eyes as the room was washed in morning light, “it wasn't your fault.”

As hard as Harry found it to believe, he nodded.

Harder still to overcome was the nightmares. Images invaded his subconscious of his time in The Meadow as though he was being subjected to a particularly violent form of Legilimens. Snape would grab roughly at him, breathing his toxic words in his ear, and every time Harry would wake screaming.

Unlike the nightmares he had had whilst still trapped within The Meadow, his waking was vastly different than what he had grown accustomed to. Draco, still recovering from his own injuries was there with him, holding him until the shakes stopped and he could return to a peaceful sleep, the warmth of his blond lover keeping the phantoms of Severus Snape at bay.

Draco had his fair share of night terrors as well, recalling his actions in his rescue of Harry. Harry in turn would console him until he was able to return to sleep, still trembling. Though Draco refused to discuss it, it was clear that his actions had left a deeper mental scar than he was willing to admit. Harry did his best to calm him following his nightmares, but he often wondered whether it was enough.

Harry was uncertain how much time had passed, his days and nights began to blend together as he slowly regained his physical strength. He woke at odd hours, sometimes around midday, other times on the cusp of dawn or dusk. The light of the moon and the rising of the sun still filled him with a lurch of panic, and he still felt amazed when he did not transform. Draco held him through the rising and setting of the sun, rubbing his back until his breathing returned to normal and his muscles relaxed.

No matter what, Draco was always there. He held Harry's hands through his night terrors and panic attacks. He rubbed Harry's back when the fear became so great that he was sick from it, vanishing the mess with casual flicks of his wand. The warm comfort Draco brought was like a tether that kept him from losing himself in nightmares of the man that had terrorized him for so many years. Even after his own injuries had long healed, he rarely left Harry's side.

Harry woke to the sunlight pouring through the parted curtains of his window. Based on the quality of light, Harry guessed that it was sometime close to midday. His warm haze of waking was jarred into a panic when he realized that Draco wasn't next to him. The spot where he usually lay was empty, the bed sheets upturned and rumpled. The sight filled Harry with sick fear. He was afraid to call out, and he saw that his hands were trembling. Harry swallowed thickly and sat up, reaching out to touch the spot in the bed that usually occupied Draco. The cotton was cold to the touch, making Harry assume that his lover had left a while ago. If he was alone, bad things would happen to him. Almost at once visions of Snape danced through his mind, his great billowing robes flaring outward as he strode forward, intent on taking Harry away again. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to focus on his breathing. He's dead, he can't hurt you. The reassurance did little to ease his mind, and he felt a wave of nausea rush over him. He gagged from the effort of trying to force it back.

Harry's breath hitched and he felt his head spin as his panic gave way to dizziness as his bedroom door suddenly creaked open. Draco was there, dressed in a muggle suit of black on black, looking less than pleased. He looked up, and his expression shifted to one of fear upon seeing Harry. He rushed over and Harry folded into his arms, still shaking.

“Gods Harry,” Draco whispered into his hair, “I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to wake up alone, but something came up...” He trailed off, and Harry breathed deeply, trying to reign in his panic. Draco hadn't left him, he wasn't alone. Even though the proof stood before him, his mind was still struggling to truly believe it.

“What—what happened?” he asked after a moment, trying to appear more calm than he felt. Draco was absently stroking his fingers through Harry's hair, and the gentle touch made him shiver, remembering his last moments of consciousness with Snape. Draco seemed to sense his underlying panic, and he quickly stopped.

“Your—friends are here to see you. They are threatening to stay until they see for themselves that you're alive.” The sneer in Draco's tone almost made Harry laugh. While he couldn't exactly blame Ron and Hermione for giving up on him, Draco's indignation on his behalf was heartwarming. Draco looked down at Harry, his eyes darting back and forth as he studied him, as though trying to discern whether or not he should allow his friends in.

“Stand down Cerberus,” Harry said with a small smile, and Draco snorted. “I'm okay, really. I want to see them.” Harry wasn't certain how much he believed his own words, but after another moment of hesitation, Draco stood and walked towards the closed door. He took a deep breath as though trying to steady himself, and opened it.

“Now remember what I said,” Draco said threateningly, then reluctantly stepped aside to let his best friends in.

Ron and Hermione looked about as nervous as Harry felt. They had changed little in the five years since he'd last seen them. Ron had filled out and his hair was longer, and it appeared as though he'd tried to copy Bill's look, but hadn't entirely managed it. Hermione's hair was more tame, twisted in a professional-looking knot at the base of her neck. Harry did not fail to notice the matching gold bands on their ring fingers. The sight made him both overjoyed and riddled with guilt at the same time.

“Hey guys,” He said with a weak smile, and Hermione mirrored it, her eyes teary. Harry shifted up a little, and the pair took a seat at his bedside.

For a moment, no one knew what to say. Draco was hovering like a well-dressed guard dog, glaring daggers at the pair. Harry shifted his gaze to Draco, giving him a look to tell him to calm down. It didn't seem to work. He sat down on the edge of the bed and Harry automatically took his hand. He felt a twinge of nervousness as Ron's eyes shot straight to their clasped hands, and his lips pressed into a thin line. While Draco had never gone into detail about what had transpired between them, Ron's expression was enough to tell Harry that any acceptance he once had for Draco and Harry's relationship was completely gone.

The awkward silence stretched on, and Harry looked them over, smiling weakly. He felt overjoyed to see his friends again, but at the same time he also felt a twinge of betrayal that refused to be dismissed entirely from the back of his mind. Harry wasn't sure if this was a result of Draco's ever-present bitterness and anger at the pair for giving up the search some years before, or his own feelings of abandonment. The two trains of thought were so jumbled together he struggled to discern what he felt, and what he had been told.

“This is going well,” Draco drawled, and the tension seemed to break. The Harry laughed and his friends smiled weakly. Draco looked on with the ghost of a smile, though the fierce protective look never left his eyes. Harry was fairly certain that his lover might liquefy Ron and Hermione if they said the wrong thing. He squeezed Draco's hand, trying again to silently tell him to calm down, but it did little to ease his lover's tension.

“Well, um,” Harry laughed again, though a little more awkwardly while Ron and Hermione watched him. “How have you, er, been?” He cringed inwardly at how lame the question sounded, but what could he say after being held captive for five years? Harry wasn't exactly keen to discuss the details of his past five years with anyone, save perhaps Draco.

“Erm, well, I'm in Magical Law Enforcement and Ron's at the Auror Office,” Hermione said, her tone almost businesslike as though she, too, could not figure out what to say. She exchanged a look with Ron, and he seemed to be giving her some sort of mental shrug. “We got married last year, nothing big, just us and our families.” She smiled weakly, and Harry felt his guilt resurface. Draco seemed to sense it, and he squeezed his hand gently.

“Congratulations,” Harry said, cringing a little at how forced his voice sounded. He tried again. “Really, that's great.” Hermione's smile warmed and Ron visibly relaxed, his shoulders sagging a little.

“Mum and Dad want to come see you, but we weren't sure if you were ready for too many visitors.” Harry almost laughed following Ron's words. Not ready was an understatement. He squeezed Draco's hand a little more tightly.

“Er, yeah, something like that.” Silence fell again, and Harry watched his friends for a few moments. As evenly as he could, he ventured toward the unspoken thought that seemed to hover over the four of them. “I don't blame you, you know, for not looking for me longer.” Hermione's gaze snapped up to meet his, her eyes wide. “Most people say that after forty-eight hours it's a lost cause. I don't want either of you beating yourself up over it.” Draco stared at Harry as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You couldn't have known what was happening, or that I was still alive.”

Hermione really did begin to cry then, large tears tumbling down her her cheeks and smudging her makeup quite thoroughly. “Oh Harry,” she lurched forward a little, and Harry allowed her to throw herself into his arms in a tight hug. Harry could feel the dampness of her tears on his shoulder. Draco let go of his hand, and Harry patted her back awkwardly. Having known her for so long, he knew she'd throw herself at him like that, but the sudden contact still make him go momentarily rigid. This is Hermione, he told himself firmly, trying to ignore the panicked look Draco was giving him. She won't hurt you. She won't.

When she finally pulled back, Harry felt the tingle of a cleaning spell ghost over his shoulder, and he could not help but smirk a little. He had a feeling that moments before there probably had been an eye-makeup stain there. Draco took his hand again, and Harry felt the anxiety from Hermione's sudden hug slowly begin to fade. She accepted a handkerchief that Ron offered her and dabbed her eyes, clearing away some of the mess. “Harry, I'm so sorry,” she said thickly, looking positively overwhelmed with guilt.

“Forget it,” he replied with a small smile. “It's over.”

“But I—”

“Forget it.”

They slowly fell into easy conversation. Harry put as many questions to them as he could about their new lives, turning the conversation back to them whenever Hermione began to ask him about his captivity. At times, Harry struggled to keep the conversation away from himself without saying anything outright. In these instances Ron and Draco gave her such a scathing glare that the words seemed to die in her throat. Harry was grateful for that, he wasn't sure he'd ever be ready to talk about what happened. Draco was also cautious about provoking Ron, who was still eyeing him with a look reminiscent of their Hogwarts days. It unsettled Harry, but he was uncertain how to address it without sparking an argument. Ron had never been known for being level-headed when he was angry.

After about an hour Remus came in, followed by a levitated platter of sandwiches and a pitcher of butterbeer. Harry couldn't help but smile a little, the sight reminding of the last time Remus had brought them sandwiches into this room. It amazed Harry how little had changed...and how much. They all murmured their thanks, Remus pausing to squeeze Harry's shoulder once before leaving them to their reacquaintance. Harry helped himself to a sandwich, curling up against Draco as they chatted. Draco's hand moved to his back, his fingertips dancing up and down his back lightly. The light touch helped Harry relax, and for the first time it truly felt as though he had come home.

Harry regained his strength steadily as the weeks passed, and he could not remember feeling happier in his life. He had begun to get up and move about, primarily in his pyjamas and dressing gown around the flat. Draco shadowed him practically everywhere he went—not that he minded. Harry had yet to venture outside, and each attempt was met with another wave of panic. He would teeter on the threshold of the building's front doors, his mind assaulted by memories of his capture. Harry shivered, frustrated with himself, but no one chided him for it. Draco would take his hand, lead him back up the stairs, and they would sit quietly in front of the fire, while Harry tried to calm down.

Despite Harry's self-imposed confinement, he was far from lonely. His days were punctuated with frequent visits from the Weasleys, often bringing with them messages from Hagrid, who couldn't fit through the building's front doors. Ron and Hermione came often, and while Draco obviously held a grudge towards them, he was careful to keep his snide remarks to himself.

Sirius and Remus were as patient with Harry as Draco was. The first time he rejoined them at the table for a meal he was still weak, his hands shaking as he tried to eat. The tremors were bad enough that it made eating anything at all a slow process, and he felt as though he was under a spotlight, despite the fact that his parents and Draco hardly cast more than a fleeting glance towards his hands and plate.

The third time he lost the food on his fork, it tumbling onto his plate, he huffed in frustration. “Harry,” Sirius said calmly, drawing Harry's attention away from his plate. He reached forward grasped Harry's shoulder, smiling warmly as though it was just another normal day. “Relax. Take your time. You don't need to rush yourself, all right?” His grip tightened on Harry's shoulder for a second, then he released him and returned to his own meal. Sirius continued to punctuate the meal with easy conversation, as though nothing had happened. Next to him Draco reached under the table to squeeze his hand, and Harry felt himself relax.

Since then, his shakes and panic attacks receded with every passing day, until they had disappeared completely. Harry still struggled with sudden contact when he could not see who it was that touched him, but everyone had been amazingly cognizant of this. They were careful to be in Harry's line of sight if they went in for anything from a hug to a clap on his shoulder. At times they overdid it, but Harry was grateful all the same.

Some of Harry's visitors were not as respectful of his boundaries as his family had been, Molly Weasley in particular. During her first visit she had pulled him in for a bone-crushing hug and motherly kiss on the cheek the second she laid eyes on him. Her movements were so fast they threw Harry back into his memories of The Meadow at once. He lurched away from her with a fearful cry and bolted, too lost in his fog of panic for her pained look to even register.

Harry pressed himself into the corner of his room on the floor, legs pulled up to his chest and his head buried in his arms. Despite his best efforts, Harry could not completely rid himself of his almost violent shivering and accompanying heart palpitations. Distantly, he could hear raised voices, though he could not for the life of him pick one apart from the other. It was white noise in his ears.

The sound of his door creaking open made his breath hitch, but he felt as though he couldn't move. Soft footfalls approached him, and Harry's cracked, keening voice escaped him before he could stop it. “No, no, please...I'm sorry, please don't, I'm sorry...” The footfalls came closer, and Harry felt as though he might just die, the fear was so all-consuming. Conflicting thoughts of his rational mind and his fear-soaked delusions overwhelmed him. It's Snape, he'd finally come for me. He can't be here, he's dead. Draco said he's dead. Snape's going to take me away again. He can't take me away, he's dead! Harry felt as though his throat had closed up; he couldn't breathe.

“Harry.” The voice was something good, it meant warmth, safety. It broke through Harry's panicked haze, and still shaking, he chanced a glance up. The edges of his sleeves were damp, though he could not remember crying. Draco crouched before him, watching Harry with a pained expression. “You're home,” he said gently, not moving any closer. “Snape is gone, he can't hurt you anymore.” Draco slid gracelessly to his knees, watching Harry intently, but never reached out to touch him. “It was only Mrs Weasley, do you remember?” he continued to speak softly in that same soft assuring tone. “She's sorry for triggering a memory. You know that she didn't intend to do that, right?”

Harry remembered now. Home. Draco. Mrs Weasley. He reached forward, the warmth of Draco's hands in his reaffirmed that he was not hallucinating, and with slow motions Draco pulled him into a gentle embrace. Harry shuddered in his arms, feeling humiliated, but almost too broken down to care. He clutched at Draco, pressing his face into the crook of his neck. Draco stroked his back, and as he felt his heartbeat return to normal and his muscles begin to relax. Harry chanced speaking, but his voice still sounded strained to his ears. “I—I know, I just—she...” he broke off and pulled back. Draco let him go at once.

Harry buried his face in his hands, and huffed a sigh of frustration. “I hate this. I hate what that bastard has done to me. I can't even...” Harry's voice broke, and he reached up to pinch at his tear ducts. “Fuck,” he hissed, turning away from Draco while he tried to calm down. “I can't even get a damn hug without dissolving into a mess of panic.” Harry felt another tremor run through him and his breath hitched.

He heard the soft shuffling of Draco moving, and afraid that he was leaving him alone, Harry turned around at once. His wide-eyed panic faded as he watched Draco shift spaces to sit back down in front of Harry. Draco reached out and cupped Harry's chin in his hands, his touch gentle and undemanding. Harry's eyes fluttered shut, and he felt a tear escape despite his best efforts. It trickled down his cheek slowly, and Draco's thumb brushed it away without comment.

Harry heard Draco shift, and his lips press into his own. Harry kissed him back, his arms winding around Draco's neck. He would've liked the kiss to last longer, but Draco pulled back after a moment and Harry's eyes opened. “It will take time,” he said softly, pressing his forehead against Harry's, while one of his hands moved to gently massage the back of his neck. “You've been through something terrible. You don't need to rush yourself.”

“That's what Sirius said,” Harry mumbled, glancing away from Draco, his cheeks going a little pink. Draco chuckled a little, and cupped Harry's cheek, and he refocused his attention on the blond. He kissed Harry again, holding him so gently it was as though he was afraid Harry might shatter under his touch. As with every one of these small moments of intimacy, Harry felt a momentary peace in his mind, and he wished that it could last forever.

They moved to the bed. Draco was always extremely conscientious of Harry's fragile mental state when it came to intimacy, and he did nothing more demanding than kiss—his hands resting gently just above his waist. Harry was uncertain how far he was ready to go, and the concept filled him with a confusing mix of emotions. He felt nervous excitement at the thought of going further with Draco, fright at anything more than the tender kisses Draco offered, and an emasculated feeling at the concept of not wanting to have sex. It left Harry feeling almost dizzy as he tried to work out what he really wanted from Draco.

Harry finally broke the kiss, feeling utterly exhausted as the adrenaline from the panic attack began to leave him, and he curled himself in closer to Draco's embrace.

“I love you, Draco.” The words came to him so easily, and speaking them filled Harry with the same feeling of completion he felt every time he was with Draco.

“I love you too Harry.” Harry buried his face in Draco's chest to hide his smile.
- 24
- 25
- 26
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Stag and The Snake