Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 25
- 26
- 27
Twenty-Six

The old dream was back; it had returned for a week now.

He and Draco were seated in stiff chairs over a white tiled floor and the two stared at each other. Blue eyes met black, gazes brimming with lust and need and want. Neither moved for some time, but merely stared, imbibing the body before him, memorizing each contour and line of the other’s face, each freckle and beauty mark and blemish. The blue eyes were hungrily consuming the way Harry’s hair fell about his face, the fringe that brushed against the top of his glasses, the way his eyes gleamed beneath their frame; and Harry sat, his heart racing uncomfortably within him, soaking in the sight of his beautiful lover, focusing on his lips, their plump shape, the way they puckered at him, as if begging for a kiss.

But the dream was a little different. Where Draco would have stood and sealed the space between them, it became Harry who fulfilled that role. He felt every muscle and bone in his body bend upward in nervous anticipation, creak within him as he slowly moved toward Draco; and the blonde inclined his head up so their noses were aligned, so their lips were centimeters apart, waiting to be put together again.

But there was no kiss. And Draco’s eyes stopped glittering with desire.

They were filling with tears, a hundred words of lonely cries that could not entirely convey his longing.

“Harry—I miss you! I miss you!”

And Harry awoke with a startled gasp. He sat up quickly in the foreign bed, noting briefly he was smothered in sweat. He looked around the dusty room he was in wildly, always forgetting these past few nights that he wasn’t at Snape’s anymore; that he was somewhere new, separate from Draco and Elisha and Hogwarts.

The tremendous loneliness of his current situation crashed down upon him and Harry buried his face in his hands.

He was back in Grimmauld Place.

*

The night Elisha returned from Voldemort’s side, the night she informed them of the impending war, warned them of the positions they would have to adopt in order to surive, Harry knew it would be his last with Draco. He knew Dumbledore and Snape would heed Elisha’s advice and remove him from Hogwarts at once, hole him up somewhere secret in the never ending effort to keep him safe.

Something deep down told him he and Draco wouldn’t be seeing each other for a long time and when they left that office at almost two in the morning, it was with delirious sleepiness, exhaustion and sadness that they fell back into Harry’s bed, with great trepidition that they kissed and held each other tightly, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing the other forever.

*

“Come on, quickly, quickly,” Snape had said, ushering Harry out from his quarters and into the silent, dark corridor of the school. The man was in front of Harry, his wand drawn and ready, his black eyes peering up and down the hallway, checking if any students were out of bed, if anyone was around who shouldn’t be.

Harry heaved a great sigh and with one glance back into Snape’s sitting room, into his kitchen, into the bedroom he had occupied for weeks—the room that had felt more of a home than any place he had ever lived, even his dormitories in Gryffindor tower—he departed. Elisha was by his side, her beautiful eyes locked on him, a look of sadness and worry etched deep in her majestic, pale face. She extended her thin hand out at Harry, who took it gratefully, clutching onto her fingers as if she were the only true, living, real thing left in this world.

“Are you sure you have everything?” Snape asked Harry when he finally put both of his weary feet into the corridor. Harry’s trunk was hovering by Snape’s ankles, tucked within it all of his possessions, his clothing, his broom, and on top, Hedwig’s cage, his owl snoozing peacefully.

Harry nodded; he wanted very much to say something, to utter a strong confident sentence but his legs felt like jelly and his teeth seemed glued together. He tried not to let the depression sink in yet.

He was leaving Hogwarts for good it seemed; he, Ron and Hermione, departing in the dead of the night with some excuse Dumbledore would cook up for the rest of the school, leaving without telling any of their classmates, or teachers or anyone else who wasn’t in Dumbledore’s office the night of Elisha’s news. He was going to be cooped up in the only safe place Dumbledore could store them—Grimmauld Place, Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, the house that Sirius had left him in his will when he died, the house where both decent and horrifying memories lay, the house hiding the secrets and anguish of many that had passed through its doors.

Harry did not want to be confronted with the place, had never wanted to set foot in it again and now he was forced to, left with no choices.

Elisha squeezed his hand solemnly and Snape motioned for the two to follow him down the hall. Harry’s trunk floated behind Snape as he led the way, his black robes billowing behind him and Harry and Elisha moved together, slowly, tiredly.

When they reached the entrance doors, Ron and Hermione were waiting for them, their possessions packed as well; they were standing with Draco, Lucius Malfoy and Dumbledore.

Snape went to Dumbledore and Lucius and the men spoke in low tones, separate from the teenagers. Ron and Hermione nodded in Harry’s direction but he couldn’t even give them a motion back; his guilt at looking at them was enormous. This was his fault that they were forced to leave school after all... He was the one who broke the news to them, told them about Elisha’s call to Voldemort’s side, the fact that he wasn’t safe at Hogwarts and by extension, neither were they, since they were his best friends. But it was with great stride, support and gusto that they assented to leaving the school that they loved, agreed to follow him into the safe, but cruel clutches of Sirius’ old home, where they did not know what awaited them except for isolation and the promise of many dull days… And yet, they were here, waiting for him, happy, it seemed, to see him.

And then there was Draco, his stunning eyes filled with so much emotion, a dejection so thorough Harry worried he would catch it simply by looking at his lover. Draco walked up to Harry and Elisha let go of his hand at once; the blonde wrapped his arms around Harry and buried his face in his neck, clutching tight, whispering, “It’s going to be okay. I’ll see you soon. We’ll be together soon.”

All Harry could do was nod.

*

I’ll see you soon. We’ll be together soon.

The words haunted him his first night in Grimmauld Place. Harry holed himself up in one of the spare bedrooms on the second floor, a room he had never been in before—it was tiny, with hardly enough space for the bed within it, but it was the coziest room he had seen in this decrepit place. He felt as though he needed a tiny space, a cocoon to rest in.

They arrived at almost three in the morning, flanked by Order members; Tonks and Lupin were with them; Snape had to stay behind at Hogwarts to continue his duties as Potions Master and keep an eye on Draco. The plan was to move Draco out of Hogwarts as well, but this could not be done soon, otherwise it would seem suspicious. Elisha too remained behind to continue her training with Dumbledore and Harry was filled with a sense of dread wondering when he would see her again.

Would he see her again? And Draco?

I’ll see you soon.

Harry took a deep breath when he entered the dusty foyer of the house; they quietly lugged their things upstairs, Tonks and Lupin helping along the way. Tonks tried to be cheery, had even turned her hair canary yellow for the occasion but Harry couldn’t help but despise her happy demeanor even though he knew she meant well. She offered to assist him with unpacking and Harry declined.

“Well how about a little bite to eat then?” she had asked Harry softly as the boy glanced around the tiny room he would occupy for an indefinite period of time. “I know it’s late but Remus is going to whip something up for you lot in the kitchens.”

“No thanks,” Harry had responded, his voice monotone and desolate. “I’m going to organize here and head to bed but thanks for your help tonight.”

Tonks had nodded sadly and bid Harry a good night. Harry was sure he would see her and Lupin again soon; he did not feel bad as she closed the door behind her, leaving Harry alone in a stillness so complete he only could concentrate on the echo of Draco’s voice replaying in his mind.

We’ll be together soon.

But as Harry broke down into silent sobs on the dirty floor of the room, he couldn’t help and wonder, When? When is soon?

*

He didn’t leave the little room for a day and he was grateful Ron and Hermione left him by himself; he needed to expel the sadness within him, cry until his throat was hoarse and until he would become so lethargic that he would lay on that hard, unwelcoming mattress for hours without thinking of anything.

But the second night they were there, Harry heard a soft knock on his door.

He did not respond to it, but the door opened anyway and Hermione’s busy hair and forehead came into view, then her big, brown eyes.

“Harry?” she said quietly. “May we come in?”

Harry sat up in the bed and nodded glumly. She gave him a wan, worried smile and pushed the door open fully, so that she and Ron entered the room, sitting themselves at the edge of Harry’s bed. Ron’s fiery red hair seemed to glow in the dimness of the space and Hermione was holding her hands together nervously.

He didn’t realize how sickly he looked, how miserable and upset; the fact that he hadn’t showered or unpacked or spoken to anyone or eaten anything in over twenty-four hours did not cross his mind but it certainly concerned his two best friends.

“Are you okay?” Hermione whispered at him, her big eyes locked on his dull green ones.

Harry looked away from her, examining the space clearly for the first time; the walls had tacked on it dingy, peeling steel gray wallpaper; there was a large window in the furthest corner, but it was covered in heavy green curtains; the bed he was on had dark green sheets and pillows. Harry sighed, knowing he should concentrate on Hermione and not the embroidery of the duvet beneath him.

“I’m okay,” was all he said.

“Yeah, nice try mate,” Ron responded sarcastically, his arms folded to his chest. His strong voice broke Harry out of his haze and the boys stared at each other. “Out with it. What’s up?”

Harry gaped at Ron, and couldn’t help but admire his best friend’s brashness with him.

“I—” Harry started and then stopped and gulped in a lot of air. “I’m upset that we’re here.”

“Why?” Ron asked.

Harry blinked at him in a forlorn sort of way.

“Why? Because none of us should have to be locked up in this disgusting place. None of us should have to be taken out of school,” Harry responded, his voice cracking slightly.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t have to be taken out of school but we’re not really the most normal students Hogwarts has ever seen,” Ron said, a slight smile crossing his strong features.

Harry tried to smile back but couldn’t manage to.

“There’s no point in getting depressed about it,” Ron continued, extending a long arm to Harry’s shoulder. “You didn’t ask for this. It’s happened because it has to happen. We’re safe here and that’s all we can ask for.”

“Ron’s right,” Hermione whispered, “We have to be grateful.”

Harry sighed.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am,” he said softly. “We have the advantage because of Elisha’s warnings but…” Harry paused, mulling over his thoughts, searching for the one honest truth of why he was so unhappy. “I miss Draco.”

“Ah,” his two friends said in unison.

“Now that is understandable,” Ron said in a kind way. “Because no one in their right mind would miss school—”

“Ron!” Hermione growled at him but Ron shot her a fiendish grin. Harry couldn’t help but laugh a little and Ron beamed at him.

“Wanna talk about it?” Ron asked.

But Harry shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was unload onto either of them. Ron gave him a thoughtful look but Hermione spoke up first.

“Isn’t he supposed to join us here?” she asked.

Harry nodded.

“But I’m not sure when,” he admitted. “I don’t know if it’s going to be a week or a month.”

“I don’t think it will be that long,” Hermione said. “Especially after Elisha’s warnings, it doesn’t seem logical to keep Draco there for any longer than a few days.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” Harry whispered, looking away from her again.

“He’ll be okay Harry,” she said in a quiet voice, leaning in toward her friend. “He and Elisha will be fine. They’re in good hands.”

But somehow, Harry wasn’t too worried about Elisha. She had proven her strength and her abilities to him time and time again; he tried pushing all thoughts away of her in Voldemort’s presense, knowing that’s when she was in the most danger… But Harry knew she would be safe with Dumbledore, with her father there… but it was Draco he worried for the most. Would he be attacked again? Was he vulnerable at Hogwarts, quite alone?

Harry looked back at his two best friends and tried again to return their smiles. He knew he should be grateful that they were with him, that he wasn’t alone in this place, but his mind kept running back to his lover, thinking inexplicably of Draco’s burning gaze and the sweet kisses he loved to plant on Harry’s eyelids.

*

The dream came that night, right after Ron and Hermione left him. He had fallen into a daze and soon, Harry found himself curling against the sheets on his bed, grabbing a pillow to his body and holding it tight, pretending it was his lover’s form.

And there he was, face to face with Draco in that same blank space, in those same chairs.

How long had it been since he last dreamed of this?

Harry reveled in the scene, staring into his lover’s eyes, and he was surprised when he found himself closing the gap between them—he wanted to run his hands over Draco’s face, cup his cheeks, smother those lips with his own but when he tried, Draco would cry and cry and the weeping tore Harry awake.

For days and days he would lie in his bed after being woken, the blissful dream morphing into a nightmare and every night he would forget where he was, forgetting as he reached out unconsciously to Draco’s figure, that Draco was not there.

*

On the third day, Tonks returned to Grimmauld Place, bringing Lupin with her. They gathered Harry, Ron and Hermione in the basement kitchen and by a dimly lit fire, they ate a quiet dinner.

Up until that point, it had only been the trio and not having much to do, Ron and Hermione had taken to mulling around the house a lot, searching pointlessly for some sort of entertainment; Hermione would often return to her books (she packed all of them in her trunk) and would sink, nose deep into a giant text. Ron had nearly done the same but only allowed himself to read books concerning Quidditch. Harry, however, had kept to himself, locked in his room with only Hedwig for company, thinking, thinking…

So the arrival of two others was a bit of a break from the heavy monotony of the house. At the dinnertable, Harry hoped and hoped that one of them would give him some news, and he was soon holding his breath in nervousness as Lupin spoke.

He looked more tired than usual, and stressed as he spoke. Everyone was paying rapt attention.

“I’m sure you three know by now that you’re not allowed to leave the confines of Grimmauld Place,” he reminded them, his tone quiet. The trio nodded. “But you’ll soon have to start training again.”

“Training?” Harry piped up.

Lupin nodded.

“I’ll be coming back here a few times a week to give you all some lesson plans—you should be keeping up with your work,” the man remarked, seeing the look of horror on Ron’s face. “You need to be on your toes for what will happen in the future.”

The room grew solemn.

“Additionally, Snape will be coming here to give you Occulmency lessons, Harry,” Lupin said and Harry grimaced—that was something he wouldn’t look forward to. “I’m sure at some point, Elisha will join you here. Maybe in a few weeks after she finishes up at Hogwarts—”

“And what about Draco?” Harry asked, unable to stop the question as it burst from his mouth.

Lupin eyed him curiously, brushing his gray hair from his face.

“I’m not certain yet, but I imagine he won’t be at Hogwarts much longer,” said the man.

“Why is Dumbledore keeping him there?” Harry asked, and again, the question came from him on its own accord. He cursed himself for his impatience and the desperation so obviously in his voice. Tonks was looking at him with some pity.

“I wish I could tell you,” Lupin said softly. “I think he wants Draco and his parents to be together for a little while longer. Draco’s transition has to be much smoother than yours—although yours went well, hardly any questions asked—it would be glaringly obvious to Voldemort if we removed him too quickly.”

“Right,” was all Harry said.

And all he could think of was Draco’s voice: We’ll be together soon.

*

Snape came toward the end of the week, swooped into the house that weekend. He came alone and without Elisha and made his way immediately to Harry’s room, where the boy lay, yet again, hopelessly on the bed.

The man did not even bother knocking but pushed the door open slowly enough to alert Harry that someone was entering and then—

“Snape!”

Harry sat bolt upright, having caught sight of the familiar pale skin, black eyes and black robes. The man gave Harry a shadow of a smile as he conjured himself a chair by Harry’s bed and he sat by the boy for a few moments. Neither spoke but stared at each other, Harry praying that Snape would bring him some news, and Snape analyzing Harry’s untidy appearance.

“How have you been keeping up?” the man asked, his voice low.

Harry shrugged and tried to play off the fact that he had just been crying an hour before. He suddenly felt weak and foolish in front of Snape, in front of a man whose own daughter was risking her life playing a double agent, risking her life to save theirs; and he, Snape, a man also caught in a perilious web, balancing on a fine line between truth and lies.

“I’m okay,” was Harry’s automatic response but Snape knew he was lying.

“I imagine this place isn’t too pleasant for you to be in,” Snape said softly, his black eyes watching Harry closely.

Harry sighed.

“No. No it’s not.”

There were constant reminders of Sirius everywhere, and Harry was so broken between missing his godfather and his lover that he felt as though he would tear in two at any second.

Harry looked down.

“We’re not going to do Occulmency today,” Snape said, eyeing Harry’s sickly form carefully. “I came to tell you that everything is well at Hogwarts. Elisha has been training nonstop with Dumbledore and Draco is safe with his parents. They’re all staying with me. They have been undetected thus far.”

“That’s good,” Harry whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

We’ll be together soon.

Harry steeled himself as Draco’s voice invaded his brain yet again and Snape noticed his grimace.

“I don’t think it’s fair that you two are being kept apart,” the man said and Harry’s head shot up at the words. He gaped at Snape. “I think Draco should have come here with you all but Dumbledore is taking extra precautions with him.”

“I know,” Harry said softly.

“I am pushing to have him with you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” Harry murmured, looking at Snape with surprise and reverence. “You really don’t have to—”

But Snape shook his head.

“Harry, I’ve been in a relationship for the past fifteen years. I understand the importance of being with your partner.” There was a pause and then Snape said, “Especially in times like these. Dangerous, uncertain times. You need the support to survive it all.”

“Yes,” Harry whispered.

Snape put a comforting hand on Harry’s arm, noting how much Harry reminded him of himself in that moment—when he first began dating Lucius, how they had to keep their partnership secret, quiet, or else suffer terrible consequences.

“He’ll be here soon,” Snape said.

We’ll be together soon.

*

And Harry was lying awake again, startled from his dream once more, his heart racing wildly in his chest, wishing he could reach out to Draco, talk to him, see him.

He had lost count of the days at that point. It was certainly over a week that they had arrived at Grimmauld Place but not yet close to two. And all Harry wanted was to see Draco. He thought a lot about the conversation he had with Snape, how the man seemed to understand his pain, empathize with it. Harry knew Snape was probably trying his best to have the two reunited but Draco was still not here.

Harry laid in the bed until morning broke, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. When the sun broke through a sliver in the curtains, he forced himself out of bed, took a long, steaming shower, dressed and went down to the kitchens, ignoring the creaking sound underneath his toes as he walked on the ancient wood floors, as he moved past the covered portraits of Sirius’ family, the shrunken elf heads hammered to the walls.

Ron and Hermione were already in the kitchen when he arrived, consuming heaping bowls of oatmeal. Hermione had been doing a lot of the cooking but Ron seemed to be helping now as well and Harry was grateful they were taking such iniatives. The food was always delicious and he knew he wouldn’t have cooked for himself in his current state.

But he stuffed himself with the warm, lovely porridge and entertained himself for a few hours playing chess with Ron and Hermione. It was the first day he stayed in their company for more than an hour.

Later that night, as they were finishing dinner and exiting the basement kitchen back up to the foyer, they heard the front door cracking open. Harry, Ron and Hermione stood at the end of the hallway, watching curiously at who would enter in. Perhaps it would be Snape again, bringing Elisha with him, or more likely Lupin or Tonks.

But it was none of them.

Harry gave a deep gasp when he saw the familiar flash of blonde hair and the two boys locked eyes the moment Draco step foot into the house, the moment the door closed behind him.

“Harry—”

But Harry couldn’t move. After days and days of praying for Draco to come to him, he was too overwhelmed to even step forward. So Draco did for him, walking swiftly and pulling Harry into an embrace that Ron and Hermione smiled at.

No one said a word but Harry squeezed back with all his might, as if hoping that would be enough to convey everything he wanted to say.

*

Harry opened his bedroom door and stepped in consumed with awe; Draco’s hand was entwined with his and the two boys were together again. The door closed behind them and total darkness consumed them.

There were delicate fingers roaming his face, exploring Harry’s flushed, feverish skin, the fingers running over Harry’s parted, panting lips, waiting, wanting.

“I missed you so much,” Draco whispered into the darkness.

And Harry, who was shaking beneath Draco’s touch said, “All I could think of was you.”

*

They fell onto the bed, but their kisses were not as desperate as Harry thought they would be. Everything was slow, sensual, drawn out, as if Draco were memorizing all of Harry, mapping out his mouth with his tongue. Harry moaned as Draco’s weight pressed against him, the blonde’s hands in his messy hair then on his glasses, pulling them off delicately and placing them somewhere to the side.

Harry was gripping Draco tightly, as if trying to make their bodies one entity.

But soon enough, that’s how they were.

Draco entered him, drawing out each second as they both groaned in pleasure and Harry held on to the boy he loved so dearly, reveled as he felt himself filled, completed, possessed.

“Missed. You. So. Much,” Draco moaned in between kisses; he cupped Harry’s head in his hands, balancing his weight on his elbows and he moved his cock in and out of Harry’s needy channel, elongating each thrust so that he brushed Harry’s prostate.

Harry was a mess beneath his lover, holding onto Draco’s hands with his own, begging for kisses and more of Draco’s cock. And Harry wrapped his legs around Draco’s, so their bodies were fully laced, so that their labored breathing became one, their hearts thrumming together with the same beats, the same need.

“More,” Harry whispered into Draco’s mouth and Draco’s tongue plunged in, dancing with Harry’s.

The thrusts became wilder, deeper, and Harry whined, allowing himself to be entranced with this feeling, the glorious sensation of Draco’s length pummeling his insides, translating for them both their flooding desire and need and love for each other.

“Please—” Harry gasped, his back arching as jolts of electricity and need shot through him with Draco’s thrust.

“Do you want me to come in you?” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear. “Do you want all of me?”

“All of you!” Harry wailed.

Draco smiled against Harry’s mouth and as he came in spurts inside of his lover, pouring into the tight cavern, he commanded Harry, “Feel it, feel it. That’s it.”

It was too much for Harry—being filled like this, with all of Draco—and the frantic motions of Draco’s hand on his cock, pumping Harry to his own orgasm. He came, gushing his seed over Draco’s hand as Draco groaned against his neck.

“That’s it my beautiful love. Come for me,” Draco moaned into Harry’s ear.

Harry whimpered as fresh air tore through his lungs, and his breathing became ragged. He felt utterly spent, exhausted. Draco pulled out of him and Harry whined at the loss but Draco moved his body around Harry’s, pulling Harry into an embrace so they were nose to nose.

Draco’s arms were wrapped around Harry’s sweaty body and the blonde was sending soft, tiny kisses over Harry’s forehead.

“I’m never letting you go,” Draco said.

I don’t want you to, Harry thought blissfully and he smiled against his lover, sighing in relief as he drifted off to sleep, feeling protected and sated.

We’re together now.

TBC

Author's Note: Thank you to Angela Dlane, Hollibell, Ataraxia, and Kuragari for your thoughtful, lovely reviews! More soon!
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Endurance