Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Different Kind of Hero	By : JunjouSlashGirl Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 53263 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling. I do not earn any money with this story.

Chapter List
- 31
- 32
- 33
Chapter 32: Winds Of Change
DM
Draco sneered at his reflection. The last thirty hours had been horrible and he was looking the part. After he had returned from Potter's late relatives’ horrible house, he had tried to find his father, but had failed. Annoyed and restless he had returned to his rooms and planned on reading for a while before going to bed. However, he had not been able to concentrate or even sit down for more than a minute at a time. Potter had not left his mind and the need to search the boy out had grown with every passing second, until it had become unbearable. Of course, the outcome had been of no surprise to him, after all, he had still been under the influence of his father's curse.
In the end he had grit his teeth together and given into his frantic mind and had gone to search for his fiancé, but only after he had promised himself that this would be the first and last time that he did something as undignified as running after that scarhead like a lovesick puppy.
But Potter had not been in his room, neither in his living room, nor in the bedroom he had once shared with his father and was currently sharing with his godfather. He had shoved the question of how Potter had managed to wrap those two intelligent and stern men around his pinkie determinedly to the side, and had instead continued with his search.
His next thought had been the Gryffindor Tower and as the current Head Boy he was allowed to go inside, but he wanted to spare himself the embarrassment of asking for Potter in the lion's den for as long as possible, especially considering that Weasel and Beaver knew about his weekend with their little hero-friend.
Ultimately Draco had decided to check his godfather's place and had gone back down into the dungeons. The quarters had already been dark when he had arrived and for a moment he had pondered simply leaving again, but his godfather was not known for his early retreat at night and as soon as he had taken a step inside his skin had started to tingle, telling him that his suspicions had been right.
He couldn't say if it had been his instincts or something else that had drawn him to the private bedroom of Severus, but before he had realized where his feet were carrying him he had pushed the bedroom door open carefully and frozen at the sight that had presented to him.
His godfather had sat in his bed, propped up against a pillow and with an equally sparsely dressed Harry Potter in his lap.
Fury had consumed him as he had realized what Potter had been doing, and for a split second his vision had turned red. Potter was drinking from his godfather, from another male, even though the traitorous boy had always proclaimed that they were mates. His heart had clenched in anger, pain, jealousy and fury at the sight, mates were not supposed to drink from anybody besides each other, taking blood from another man was equal to betrayal. But Potter had been doing just that and he did not even have the decency to only drink from the man's wrist, no, he had nuzzled Severus' neck, sat cuddled into the Potion Master's tender embrace and even allowed the man to comb through his thick, silky looking locks, through the locks Draco himself had yearned to touch since he had first laid eyes on the small raven. A tender, loving expression had swirled in those usually cold, black orbs and a low growl had risen in Draco's throat. Then his godfather had looked up, but far from being disturbed, the man had only challengingly lifted an eyebrow, a mocking expression on those harsh features.
Too afraid to confront his godfather and too angry with the world, he had turned on the spot and fled, determined to finally confront his father. And he had found him. Lucius had returned to his office from wherever he had been an hour earlier, but at his angry accusation, his father had only laughed and told him to finally shape up and accept his destiny.
Of course, he had not believed that Lucius had not used a curse on him, he knew his father far well to believe everything that the man said, and therefore he had snuck into the forbidden section of the library and buried himself in books about mind-altering magic. He had set there and read the whole night and the whole next morning until Blaise and Pansy had found him and forced him to join them for breakfast. He had only given in grudgingly, and the only reason why he had done so at all was because of the still infuriating strong need to see Potter again, but Potter had not been at breakfast and he also had not visited Hogsmeade as far as he had been able to tell.
By the time he had met with his father to go to the Halloween Masquerade Ball, he had been a nervous wreck. He had tried to read some more books, but the curse had forced him to search for Potter more often and often the longer he had not seen him, and at 7 PM panic had ruled his mind. His father had only watched him with his usually cold, emotionless facade and had said nothing as they had silently changed into some old robes from some very late relatives.
His nerves had then calmed down a little, because he had known that Potter would be at the ball and he would finally see him again, and that in return would give him the strength to search for a cure to his curse after the feast. But the Weasel and the Beaver had arrived alone and his father had instantly left to join Severus, giving him no time to ask after the small raven, and to top off his miserable evening, Pansy and Greengrass had appeared and attached themselves to his side before he had been able to sneak off and search for his irritating fiancé.
It had been one of the hardest tasks he had been presented with in his life to try and pretend that everything was fine and that he was enjoying the evening and the company of the two girls, but after three days of watching Potter, all he had been able to think was how much more beautiful Potter's green eyes were, how much more alluring his hips danced when he walked, how much more naturally graceful the small teen was and how much sweeter his smile had been. As often as he had been able to do so inconspicuously, he had looked out for the boy, in the hopes that he might only be late, but Potter had apparently decided to skip the ball.
It had been when he had been up and about to just leave the ball as well and search for Potter again, that he had noticed that his godfather had for once not come alone, but with company. His dead heart had nearly stopped at the sight of the beautiful, delicate girl on the man's arm; he had never seen a creature as beautiful as that girl. Her black curls bounced and reflected the light from the pumpkin-lanterns, her skin was descendent of a noble paleness, her lips had been plump and kissable looking, her chest flat just like he preferred it and her waist... oh her waist had been so slim and delicate. But that was not all that drew him to the girl:
Her skirt had been short, but only short enough to show off her long, perfect legs without being improper, every movement of her had spoken of a good, Pureblood education and her eyes had been sparkling with intelligence behind the phoenix-feathers mask she had been wearing.
He had of course not been the only person who had noticed the girl, many boys had been craning their necks, but the girl had not seemed to notice a single one of them.
Without thinking for a second, he had excused himself from Daphne and Pansy, saying that he needed to introduce himself to his godfather's guest. The girls, who had by now noticed the black haired beauty as well, had been more than reluctant to let him go, seeing (with good reason) a new threat in the girl, and when he finally had been able to shake them off, he had noticed, to his horror, that the girl had disappeared from his godfather's side. His horror had only grown as he had seen her address the Weasel and the Beaver, but determined to warn the beautiful Pureblood witch (there was no way that she could be anything else) of the two Gryffindors, he had made his way over, only to be beaten by the Weaslette, who was once again whining over Potter, or rather the attention Potter was not giving her.
He had waited patiently and listened to the argument that had unfolded in front of him, until the female redhead had finally left and he had struck before anybody else could delay his introduction to the girl any further.
The girl's voice had been like liquid gold, soft and gentle and he had nearly lost himself in the angelic sound, but in contrast to the softness that had spoken through her voice, her eyes had revealed a strong, unwavering spirit, so had her crooked, cocky smirk and her quick witted replies. He had not needed five minutes to realize that this was the type of woman he had always dreamed about marrying later, at least, since he had rid himself of that deluded crush he had harboured in his first school year. He had forgotten about Potter all together then; the girl had a soothing affect on him, as if he had just returned to the place he was meant to be and their conversation had grown naturally and easily.
He had been slightly disappointed to hear that the girl was not planning on transferring to Hogwarts, but even more delighted that his godfather had mentioned him to his young relative; besides, he could always contact the girl's parents for an official courtship during the holidays and maybe even pay her a visit.
Without even thinking about it, he had offered to take her on a tour through Hogwarts and to his delight she had agreed after only a short moment of hesitation.
He had led the girl out of the Great Hall, followed by many envious looks, but he had barely noticed them. As promised, he had told the girl a few important things, truly in the hopes that she might change her mind and transfer after all, and as he had not yet had been able to predict in which House she would be sorted into, he had done his best to present her with a neutral picture of all four Houses. Of course, he believed that she would join his house, the girl was a Prince after all and all Prince’s had gone into Slytherin, just like all Malfoy’s had done and all Black’s up to that disappointment by the name of Sirius.
His godfather's relative had listened intently, her presence a comfort and warmth at his side, at least until she had suddenly mentioned Potter. He had not wanted to talk about the boy, everybody always wanted to talk about the famous Boy-Who-Lived, but she had been persistent until he had given in. His words had not been completely honest, he had come to know many sides of the little raven, but he had wanted to make sure that the girl would not develop an even deeper interest in the Gryffindor; he had already lost so much to Potter, he would not give him this beauty.
But for a moment he had been afraid that he had gone too far as the girl had turned her head away, staring motionlessly out of the window of the first floor, and despite all of his pride he had asked her, in an teasing uncaring voice, but with a racing heart. And no, she wasn't offended and she had looked him in his eyes and he had finally lost himself in her enchanting presence. Without thinking about propriety and about the fact that he was engaged, he had leaned forwards and pressed his lips to the girl's soft lips. The most intoxicating sweetness had exploded onto his tongue as the girl had gasped, and his tongue had slipped inside her hot cavern, his whole body had started to tingle as if magic was wildly coursing through every vein, and without his permission his eyes had closed.
For a beautiful long moment, all he had been able to feel was the girl in his arms, her slim hips under his hands, her warm lips on his and her velvet tongue dancing with his own.
He didn't know what had made him open his eyes again, but as he had done so and once more looked into those big, emerald orbs, her face had suddenly transformed into more boyish features, the curls replaced by thick, messy black locks and her slightly confused expression changed into a smile that could raise the sun on a cold winter day.
A pain as if someone had pierced his heart had gone through his chest, as if punishing him for his doing, his soul had cried out in agony and he had finally realized that his father and Potter had been right all along. Potter was his mate; there was no curse, only his fear to accept the boy he had yearned for over four years now, and he had realized what he had just done as well. He had betrayed his soulmate, the one person who would be able to love him unconditionally, who could bring warmth to his cold, dead body and who could make him happy.
Horrified by his mistake, he had pushed the girl away from him, with only one thought left in his mind: to find Potter and to apologize for his mistake and his betrayal. But once again he had not found the boy. He had gone back into the Great Hall and even checked the Gryffindor tower, but the boy had been nowhere to be found. He had not dared to ask his father, too ashamed, and he certainly had not dared to once again enter his godfather's quarters, even though the chance was high that his fiancé would be there.
And now he was sitting in his room, even though classes had started already and was staring at his shrunken diary, the book where he had written down all of his pains and secret feelings. Slowly the daze he had been in since he had returned to his quarters yesterday left him and was replaced by an unbearable need to find his fiancé and... and... he didn't know the answer himself. He needed to apologize, but he had never done so in his life before, and he needed to explain his stupidity, but to do all this he needed to find the boy first, he never would have imagined that Harry Potter would be so good at hiding.
His grandfather clock chimed and his eyes flew wide open. It was Thursday; he would have Potions now with the Gryffindors, and Harry would be there.
With a plan in mind, he stood up, grabbed his school bag and left his quarters without a second glance back.
°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°
HP
Harry followed his friends out of their Charms classroom. Even though he had drunk from his father yesterday and also had a full night's rest, he still felt tired and exhausted, but it was more a mental exhaustion than anything else.
His encounter with Draco and the sudden interrupted kiss had let him falling from the heavens down to the earth again harshly, leaving him feeling shattered and broken. He had thought about it through Charms and had come to the conclusion that Draco must have recognized him after all; that was the only logical explanation. He should not have accompanied his mate, by doing so he had tricked him and lost every chance of getting onto good terms with his second mate, he had really screwed everything. The worst thing was that he yet had to confess his stupidity to Lucius.
The thought of his first mate brought another pang of guilt to his heart. Lucius had once again been so understanding. His mate had immediately noticed that he had wanted to spend the evening with his two friends and given him space. Lucius had also tried everything that was within his power to help him and his son get closer, and the aristocrat had also accepted it as he had withdrawn after Draco's resurrection. And how was he paying him back?
Sighing, Harry looked up as darkness descended around him, only now noticing that they had just entered the dungeons. He had even forgotten that he would have classes with his father next; Potions, one of the many classes he shared with Draco this year, but he doubted that the blonde would be there as he had been missing in Charms as well.
"Cheer up Harry; you always have fights with the git. Just be glad that you have managed to hoodwink him like that," Ron told him with an encouraging pat on the back, just as they stepped into the gloomy hallway of the dungeons.
"Yeah, you are right," he answered, looking left and right to find a place to hide in for a minute; he needed to get away and sort his mind out and even more importantly; he needed to get far away from the conversation his friends had tried to force onto him for the entire day now.
His eyes fell onto the boy's lavatory and he quickly excused himself.
"Hey guys, would you take my bag? I have to go to the loo," he said and pushed his bag into Ron's hands without waiting for an answer, already halfway through the bathroom door.
Blissful silence stretched around him as the door had closed, and for a moment he slumped against the wooden surface, sighing in defeat. His life had become such a mess since Draco's resurrection, everything had gone wrong, even though everything should have slowly become better. They should have completed their bond and they were supposed to meet every evening secretly in his private quarters to make passionate love with each other and whisper sweet nothingness into each others’ ears. Well, maybe not the last thing, his mates were Malfoy's after all, but a boy was allowed to dream wasn't he?
With another sigh he pushed himself away from the door and dragged his feet over to one of the sinks. Turning the water on, he splashed some cold liquid onto his face, but as he always felt cold these days, it did not help to wake him up. With a frown he rose again, turned to the towel, only to freeze in sudden fright as he was harshly slammed into the tiled wall. Heavy breathing was all he was able to hear for a moment, until a pair of lips descended onto his neck, ghosting over his flesh lightly. Harry tried to struggle and somehow kick his attacker off, but the person was much taller and stronger than him and he was easily pushed even more harshly into the wall, but all his struggles came to an abrupt halt as the person finally croaked out, his voice pained, desperate and clearly lust-driven:
"Harry..."
Harry froze as he recognized the voice of his second mate, so desperate and husky. Before he could reply anything, he was harshly turned around and hot lips claimed his own. The kiss was harsh and violent and nothing like he had imagined the moment Draco would finally acknowledge him, but he submitted instinctively, a submissive mewl leaving his throat.
Only when strong hands gripped him by his hips, lifted him up and Draco's muscled body forced itself in between his thighs, did he start to struggle again. He knew as a submissive he had no right to deny his dominant the wish to claim him, but this was not how it was meant to be, he did not want to mate in the dirty, cold dungeon lavatory.
He tried to squirm free, but Draco bit harshly down on his bottom lip and growled warningly. One of his mate's slender hands slid beneath his shirt, while the other pulled on the laces of his corset, opening it far enough that the boy could reach his sensitive nipples, but in contrast to the feelings Lucius had been able to evoke inside of him, Harry felt nothing besides panic. He struggled again as a nail pinched his still soft nub, but Draco only stepped closer, making it even harder for him to move as his mate's tongue forced it's way inside his mouth. Tears started to fall from Harry's eyes as Draco's now free hand descended once again onto his hips and made its way inwards, until it lay above his most private area and started to rub him through the material of his shorts.
He struggled one last time, making loud, panicked sounds in his throat, but his second mate was just too strong. He felt Draco fumble with the button of his pants and closed his eyes to brace himself against what was coming next, when suddenly Draco was yanked off of him and he fell harshly, but unharmed to the floor. Lucius stood there, his silver-blue eyes furious, the claws of his right hand digging into the neck of his struggling son. Harry's eyes widened in disbelief as Lucius pushed his son to the lavatory door, kicking it open and growled:
"Go to our rooms. Now!"
Draco started to growl as well, but a second push from his father made him move and a second later his second mate had disappeared.
As Lucius turned back to him, his face had changed from furious to worried and with two long strides he was by his side and picking him up.
"Harry, love, are you alright?" Lucius asked, calling him love for the first time since the night they both had confessed their feelings; but Harry could not answer, his body refused to respond to his brain and answer, and all he could do was stare back into worried eyes.
He flinched as fingers brushed against his arms, but relaxed slightly as he realized that it was only Lucius who was trying to find out if he was injured.
"I..." he stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper "... am fine."
His reassuring statement was ruined by his sniffling and the tears still streaming down his face, Draco had truly frightened him.
"I... I thought he would make me... make me mate here," he croaked out, suddenly needing to word his fears.
"Hush, I know, but I was in time, and I will talk to him. Everything will be fine now, Draco has finally accepted his connection to you," Lucius said soothingly, before slowly picking him up. Harry instantly snuggled into the protective embrace and inhaled the comforting scent of his strong dominant.
He was carried out of the lavatory and up the stairs to the Entrance Hall. He didn't protest as Lucius started to swiftly walk into the direction of his private quarters, glad to be far away from the dungeons and his second mate. His mind was still too shocked to truly catch up on what had nearly happened to him, to what Draco had nearly done and he simply slumped like a dead weight against Lucius’ chest until they had entered his living room. Lucius laid him carefully on his sofa, stroked once through his mop of hair and said:
"I will send your father up."
Harry only nodded; his body and mind still feeling numb, and watched as his first mate left with a last, worried look at him.
°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°
DM
Draco slammed the door of his father's office close behind him, still seething. How dare his father pull him from their mate? He had the same right to claim and mate with the little raven as his father, and he would not be denied that right, he would fight for it if it was necessary, Harry Potter was his as well. His mind was still swirling from the sweet, intoxicating scent of his little raven, his mouth still salivating from his delicious taste and his hands itching to touch the soft, smooth and warm skin again, he would not renounce those feelings; they had made him feel alive for the first time since his resurrection.
The office door opened with a slam and he spun around, snarling in anger and bearing his fangs. His father stood there, looking calm as ever, but before he could strike, the man simply said: "Follow me Draco, I will tell you some things about our mate."
"You only want to deny me our mate!" He snarled, not caring that spit was flying from his fangs.
"No, I will take you somewhere where we can talk and you will listen and learn, but I warn you son, it is not my intention, but if you do not listen to what I have to tell you, I will not let you near our mate again," his father growled, suddenly standing directly in front of him, radiating with power he did not yet possess.
Sneering again, but realizing that he had to obey for now, he inclined his head and with a nod his father turned around, walked to his fireplace and said "Privet Drive Number 4," before stepping into the hearth and disappearing. He sneered at the destination but followed regardless, he would not let his father win so easily only because he had spent a few months more with their mate.
As he stepped out of the fire at the other end, the first thing he noticed was that his fiancé's relatives were frozen with the same spell he had already used on them. His father cleared his throat and opened a rather huge vial before handing it to him.
"Drink, I want you sane and in full control over your emotions and instincts when we talk."
Sniffing on the vial, Draco recognized that it was a strong calming draught, which would have knocked him out or even killed him a few months ago with this dosage, but he had always been a good potions student and knew that it would not harm him anymore. Drowning the liquid, he took a deep, calming breath of air as he felt his muscles relax and his mind becoming clearer, and as he now looked over to his father again, he saw no jealousy, but only a deep worry in those guarded silver-blue eyes that were so familiar to him.
A picture suddenly jumped to the forefront of his mind and he winced as he realised that he nearly had nearly forced Harry to mate with him in a dirty lavatory; it had definitely been good that his father had stopped him; his fiancé truly did not deserve such a shameful place for their mating.
"Thank you father," he said, without wording what exactly he was thanking the man for, but his father gave him a curt nod, signalling that he had understood.
"Let us begin Draco, and when we are finished I hope that you will understand why I have been so very protective about our mate. I cannot tell you everything as I do not know everything myself either, but I hope it will be enough for you to find a proper way of approaching Harry when we are back."
Giving a nod, Draco followed his father into the hallway and watched as Lucius raised his wand and cast a nonverbal spell. Their surrounding flickered for a few seconds, and as it stopped, Draco stood not in the renovated version of Privet Drive, but in the old one he had come to know after his arrival on Friday.
"What are you doing, father?" he asked, but his father only ordered him:
"Look around and tell me what you notice."
"It's a muggle house. It is small and dirty, what else should I notice?" He questioned, but when Lucius gave him no answer, he started looking around with a huff.
A small chest of drawers stood against the wall between the kitchen door and living room, but he couldn't imagine that his father had meant for him to notice the ugly plastic-flowers that stood on top of it, neither could it be the photos which showed Harry's fat whale of an uncle, his equally repellent cousin and that horse-like excuse for a woman. He glanced over those photos only swiftly before turning to the coat rack. Two large jackets hung there and a woman's cloak that muggles probably would call expensive and elegant, but was only plain and without style in his eyes. The six pairs of shoes beneath it were clean and stood in two neat lines, nothing noteworthy either.
Turning to the living room, he left his father behind and walked back into the room they had come from. The sofas had changed back into the stiff looking couch that looked as comfortable as a plastic seat and in one corner stood the black box his fiancé had called ‘television’. He also found a few more pictures, mostly of a fat, blonde child during every phase of its ugly development.
Striding through the room, he reached the back door and looked into the garden, where three chairs stood and that was the moment it hit him. Three chairs, three jackets, six pairs of shoes, each too big for his mate and photos that only ever showed the same three people, but his mate had lived here as well, hadn't he?
Going back to the pictures, he scanned them again, with much more attentiveness this time, but Harry was not in a single one of them. He went into the hallway again and threw his father a questioning look, who seemed pleased with his expression, but reacted in no other way and merely continued to watch him. Looking to his left and right, he decided to examine the kitchen first before going upstairs.
Truth to be told, he was not sure what he was searching for in a muggle kitchen, but he still began to open one cupboard after the other, most were filled with spices and plates, but one shelf drew his attention as his eyes landed on a cup with the name ‘Petunia’ on it. Petunia had been the name of Harry's aunt, he remembered that much, therefore he started to look through the other cups as well. He found two more cups, with the names ‘Vernon’ and ‘Dudley’ on them and even one with the name ‘Marge’, but none with the name Harry. Frowning, he closed the cupboard door again and returned once again into the hallway, where his father inclined his head and led him upstairs, only to come to a halt in the middle of the second floor.
His eyes wandered to a door with at least seven locks on it and he remembered the Weasley twins making a comment; what did they say again?
"The beautiful room with the countless locks in front of it?"
They had sounded rather sarcastic, but back then he had paid it no mind, now he turned to said door, opened it with a flick of his wand and stepped inside.
At first sight he thought the room was empty, but then he caught sight of a single, Gryffindor scarf and his eyes widened.
"After the Potter's died, Harry was brought to this house, due to the blood ward that could be cast here. Harry's aunt was his mother's sister, but I know from Severus that the woman never held much love for our kind, neither did her husband," his father started to tell him in a low, silent voice before he could process into what room he had just stepped in. He watched as Lucius flicked his wand once and a moment later a photo album came floating through the door. His father grabbed it and opened it on a page, before showing it to him. It took Draco a moment to see the small, black haired child of maybe three years of age, crouching in front of a flower bed, while his fat cousin was playing in something that looked like a miniature pool. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to find out what his young mate had been playing with, only to realize that he was not playing, but pulling weeds.
"Harry is very good at cooking, he knows how to do laundry and how to care for a garden," his father continued meaningfully, while Draco still stared at the small picture, feeling horror rise inside of him. He had always believed that the ‘Golden Boy’ had been brought up like a king, even better than he himself, with a whole army of House Elves to do his every bidding, but this picture spoke volumes about a very different childhood.
"Harry has never told me anything," his father continued then, and he finally forced his eyes away from the photo, "but when I first arrived here he had nightmares..."
"What kind of nightmares? About the Dark Lord?" Draco asked around the lump in his throat, not knowing if he truly wanted to know, but realizing that it was crucial for the future with his mate.
"Severus told me that Albus Dumbledore had confessed that Harry's family life had been so abusive, that he had not been able to watch it anymore. Harry has been beaten, starved and worked like a House Elf, and in the end Dumbledore has done the only wise thing, and preformed a ritual that allowed him to invite Harry to Hogwarts three years earlier by making every witch and every wizard in our world believe that the Boy-Who-Lived was already turning 11 instead of only 8."
With a loud thud the photo album landed on the ground as Draco's suddenly shaking fingers lost their hold on it.
"Three years earlier?" He breathed nearly inaudibly, but his father only nodded.
Three years earlier, that meant that his mate had gone to Hogwarts at the age of eight, which would make him only twelve now.
Suddenly he remembered his mate's panicked whimpers as he had pushed him against the toilet wall and started to explore his mate's body, he remembered the hot, salty tears which he had so thoughtlessly ignored and the way his father had ripped him so furiously away from their little submissive.
Suddenly feeling nauseous, he closed his eyes, but only more pictures and memories sprung up in front of his inner eye. Now it finally made sense why his father had always treated their mate so carefully, now it made sense why Harry was still so very small and looked so incredibly child-like, or why the boy's green orbs always shone with such innocence.
Harry was only twelve years old, he had been beaten and starved and he... and he... he could not even voice the words inside his own mind, he felt so ashamed. How was it possible that a twelve year old boy had behaved so much more mature than him these last few months? How was it possible that his mate could even stand the sight of him?
And by Merlin, he had not only nearly raped a child he was meant to protect with his immortal life, but also had betrayed him. Shame overwhelmed him and he pressed his eyes tightly together, wishing to deny his stupidity, but unable to.
Finally he drew in a shaky breath, opened his eyes again and asked the one question that had been circling in his mind for a few minutes now:
"Do you think he will ever forgive me?"
His father gave him a long cold look, but then his eyes softened like they only did when they were in private, and he answered: "If anybody will find it in their heart to forgive you, then it is our mate, he has forgiven much greater mistakes in the last few months."
Sinking down on the old, dirty cot next to him, Draco asked: "Did you know about... all this when you mated with him?"
He truly wasn't sure what kind of answer he had hoped he would get; on one hand, it would be horrible to think that his father had not even known about his mate's true age and on the other hand, it would be even worse to imagine that his father had known but not taken it into consideration, and there was no doubt that the two were mated already, their mating marks were the physical proof.
"As I already told you, a curse from our former Lord turned me into a vampire and as I was bound to Harry at that point, he was turned as well and it was sheer fortune that we turned out to be soulmates. The curse took every conscious decision from my mind, but no, neither I nor Harry at the time knew how young he truly was, it was only a few weeks later that we learned about it."
"And since then did you two..." Draco broke off, not knowing if he even had the right to ask such things after all he had done, but his father answered him again:
"No, you will notice that the mating stays more like a blur of sensations in your mind, therefore Harry did not feel as if he has had sex yet. At first he did not yet feel ready, and after he had brought you back he refused to so much as kiss until you were able to join the bond."
Draco blinked in confusion, he truly had thought that Harry and his father were doing it on a daily basis, but then again, he had not known about his mate's true age until now.
"Why?"
"Because," his father said smoothly, sounding as if he was contemplating how to word his thoughts correctly, "Harry did not want to hurt you by excluding you. He said he could see the confusion and pain in your eyes and that he could not kiss me with a clear conscience as long as you were unhappy."
Draco felt himself pale, his mother and father had always been caring, loving people in private, but never before had anybody besides one of them considered his feelings so carefully, and that even though he had done nothing else but stomped all over Harry’s again and again. His heart clenched painfully and needing to change the topic for the time being, he turned to his father again:
"Why did he even bring me back? Did he know that... I am his soulmate as well."
This time his father needed much longer to answer his question. The man sat down next to him, leaned his snake cane against the cot and was silent for a long moment, until he started carefully telling him:
"I do not believe that he realized what you were to him, but he must have felt ‘something’. He seemed distracted the days before, and did not tell me what we were doing in the Department of Mysteries. I believe he was afraid of disappointing me.
When I first recognized you I thought he had brought you back because he had seen me staring at your picture a few hours earlier, but I realized the truth quite quickly. I think only Severus had an inclination as to why Harry wanted to resurrect you, as Harry had talked to him about it beforehand."
At the mentioning of his godfather's name Draco remembered the position he had found his mate in two nights ago and frowned.
"What is the relationship between Harry and Severus? Why are you so unconcerned about it?"
His father actually smirked at his question, but only said, "You will have to ask Harry himself, it is not my story to tell, but I can promise you it is nothing like you are imagining right now."
Draco scowled, not particularly satisfied with his father's cryptic answer, but he was pulled from his thoughts when the man rose up and asked:
"Do you know what you will do when we get back?"
"Not exactly, but I know what I will not do it again," he replied, standing up as well. His father gave him a nod, apparently satisfied with the answer, and he followed him out of the small bedroom. As they walked back into the living room, Lucius cast the spell to return the house to its renovated state again, before tossing some floo powder into the hearth and disappearing. Draco followed him quickly and a second later, found himself back in his father's office at Hogwarts.
"I will go to my rooms for now and think about a proper way to apologize to him," he said, feeling more awkward than he had ever been before in his life.
"You do that, Draco. I will be in Harry's quarters," his father replied, and together they left the office, his father turning into the direction of Gryffindor Tower, while he turned to the dungeons.
His legs felt heavy as he slowly made his way down, as did his heart, he wasn't sure if he could believe that Harry would forgive him; he would never be able to forgive himself for what he had so stupidly already done to his mate, and that was without considering what he had nearly done as well.
Rapist, he had nearly become a rapist. True, as the dominant he had the right to take Harry whenever and wherever he wished to do so, but as a soulmate, he believed he should be more considerate, and that was what he would be from now on.
He was glad that his house mates were still in their classes as he walked down the gloomy corridor to his private quarters without being disturbed, and once inside his rooms he walked over to his bed and slumped down on it heavily. He had no idea how he could explain himself to Harry, there was so much the boy did not know, could not know, but which still needed to be told if he even wanted to have a chance at forgiveness. He would never have the courage to tell his mate about all those little secrets he had locked away in his heart a long time ago, so what could he do? How could he make his mate understand and earn his forgiveness?
As if on their own accord, his eyes wandered over to his nightstand where his diary lay hidden. He had gotten it on his birthday before he had gone to Hogwarts; all his secrets were written down in there and most of them were connected to his submissive.
He would be laying his heart open and making himself vulnerable, but Harry deserved to know the truth. Without hesitating another second, he pulled the drawer open, pulled his diary out and turned it back to its original size before wrapping it magically. He would give his diary away as a symbol for his heart.
°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°°ºooº°
HP
"Harry?"
Harry's eyes snapped open; he must have fallen asleep in his father's comforting embrace, exhausted from the near rape experience.
"Harry?" Draco's voice repeated softly, but in his panic he didn't hear the apologetic sound in his second mate's voice, instead he stiffened and tried to lay as still as possible in the hopes that Draco would just disappear again.
"Harry, I believe Draco has come to apologize to you," his father's deep voice whispered softly in his ear and a warm hand prompted him to sit up.
Hesitatingly and suddenly shaking, he followed the unspoken command and sat up, with eyes downcast, too afraid of seeing more of the crazed lust in Draco's eyes that had made the blonde nearly rape him. As if feeling his fear, two hands came up and lifted him into his father's lap, where he instantly snuggled deeper into the folds of the man's robes as if they would be able to protect him.
"Harry, I am here as well, nothing will happen," Lucius' deep voice suddenly said to his right and his eyes widened. He had not noticed his first mate returning, not as exhausted as he had been, but as he looked around, he saw the older aristocrat sitting on the armchair opposite of him, with a book lying open in his lap. The presence of both his first mate and his father reassured him immensely, and as Draco called out silently for him again, this time with a clear, pleading undertone in his voice, he finally found the strength to look up.
The first thing he noticed was that Draco looked miserable. The blonde had only taken a few steps inside the living room, as if afraid to come near Harry himself. He stood stiffly, but his shoulders were slumped and his head hung down. But as if he had felt Harry's gaze turning to him, the young aristocrat straightened his shoulders and looked up.
Harry did not know how he was supposed to react to the pained, desperate expression on his younger mate's face. Regret had dulled his beautiful, blue orbs and he looked so defeated that it made Harry's heart clench. But he still was hurt and frightened as well, and could not simply forgive his mate anymore, too much had happened today. He flinched as Draco took a hesitant step in his direction, but to his relief his mate stopped immediately.
"I... have a gift for you," Draco started and lifted up a wrapped package that he had held in his right hand, and which Harry had not noticed before.
"I am truly sorry, I should have listened to you and father from the beginning... but... but..."
Harry watched as Draco closed his eyes for a moment and drew in a shaky breath. He wished that he could somehow help his younger mate, but he couldn't, and maybe wouldn't be able for a long time.
"I do not expect you to forgive me now or any time soon Harry, but I hope this will help you understand me, and maybe you will grant me a second chance after you have read it," Draco continued, holding the book out for him, but not coming closer this time.
Harry's eyes quickly flickered over to Lucius, but his first mate's blank face told him nothing; the man probably didn't know himself what Draco wanted to give him.
He lowered his eyes to the blanket that was covering his legs, unable to make a decision; he felt so overwhelmed by everything, furthermore, taking the present would mean that Draco would come closer, something he wasn't sure he could handle quite yet.
"Harry, Draco is only asking that you accept his present, he is not expecting your forgiveness right away," his father said softly when he had been staring at the crazy quilt for too long.
"I know," he mumbled, still not able to stretch his arm out and let Draco come closer, but as if Lucius had once more read his mind, his older mate said:
"He will not touch you. Am I right, Draco?"
"No, I... will even stay away from you until you are ready to see me again, but please, accept my gift."
When he still hesitated, his father started to comb reassuringly through his hair and spoke up again. "Is this not what you always wanted? That Draco make an effort?"
Nodding his head, he finally stretched a hand out; his father was right. Had he not said that he would always accept Draco if the blonde would only make an effort? True, the boy had lost most of his trust today, but he had also known that their bond would not easily be established. Draco and he had a complicated past and many cruel words had been spoken over the years, he himself had not been any better than the blonde in that aspect, and going from enemies to soulmates was quite a step; instincts could not help with everything, he had realized that a long time ago, furthermore, what Draco was asking for was not too much or too brazen, his mate only wanted to give him a gift, and hadn't he apologized?
Draco's eyes quickly flickered up to meet his, before they settled on the floor again and the blonde started to slowly walk in his direction. Harry tried his best to not flinch again, but it was difficult. His hand shook as he took the gift; it was wrapped in plain, brown wrapping paper and looked nothing like a present from a Malfoy typically looked.
"Thank you," he whispered and placed the present onto his lap. He had no idea what could possibly be inside and was right now not capable of thinking about it, therefore he threw a questioning glance at his father, who gave him a curt nod, before he started carefully unwrapping it. As the brown paper fell to the side, his eyes fell onto a worn and old looking book. It was bound in green leather and the name Draco was imprinted on the front with silver letters. As he stared at the book, not immediately realizing what it was, it slowly grew to the size of an atlas. Only when he opened the cover and his eyes fell on the words "Dear Diary," written in an elegant, but still fairly large and in fluid script, did he realize what Draco had given him. His eyes widened in surprise and his head snapped around to Lucius, who for once looked as surprised as he himself.
Draco had given him his diary, the book where the blonde had most likely written down his deepest secrets and his most personal thoughts. A lump had suddenly formed in his throat and he gulped audibly as he realized how truly sorry his second mate was currently feeling. A Malfoy never made themselves vulnerable, a Malfoy would not even let emotions show on their face, but here he was, with Draco's diary in his hands.
Could he really read the diary of another person, wouldn't it be an intrusion?
He shook his head in a silent answer to himself. Draco had intruded into his privacy as well today and the boy had given him his diary freely; it would be an intrusion, but of permission.
But where would he start? Their main problem had begun about six weeks ago. He flipped the pages to the very back, but Draco's voice interrupted him:
"You should start at the very beginning," his mate said quietly and Harry's eyes widened again. What had he missed about his second soulmate that could possibly reach so far into their past?
Looking up, he saw that Draco had turned around and was already halfway through the door. It was a lonely and sad picture his mate made as he was leaving all by himself and it stirred something inside of him. No one who felt sad and miserable should be left alone; he had always thought that. Loneliness was the worst of all feelings; he knew that from his many hours locked away in his cupboard. He might not be able to forgive Draco right now, or comfort him, but he at least could offer his mate company.
"You... can stay here... if you want."
Draco spun around, his eyes as big as Harry's had been a moment earlier.
"I... can stay here?" His mate questioned carefully, as if not quite sure if he could believe his ears.
Harry gave a very small and very weak smile and nodded. "Yes." He glanced over at Lucius, hoping that Draco would get the hint, which the intelligent blonde luckily did. He watched his mate going over to the armchair next to his father, before sitting down slowly.
"If you need anything, just tell Lucius that he could call for Oscar," Harry mumbled, trying to at least lift a bit of the awkwardness that was surrounding them all, before turning back to the diary and finally starting reading:
31 July, 1988
"Dear diary,
I am so excited! Father and mother are taking me to Diagon Alley and I can finally go to Hogwarts! I am a bit worried that anybody will find out about my age and me being sick, I don't want them to think that I am weak, I am a Malfoy after all, and father says Malfoy’s are never weak.
Mother is still worried, but the doctor says that she doesn't need to be and I refuse to stay at home for another year!
They are calling for me now, but I promise I will write later and tell you about all my new things."
Draco's child like scribble skipped a few lines, before starting again. Harry still wasn't quite sure what he would learn from the first diary entry; it had been so long ago, and even though they had met for the first time that day, nothing had happened besides an awkward conversation that had build the foundation for his dislike for the blonde.
Deciding that he would just continue reading, Harry concentrated back on the text:
"I am back home and Diagon Alley was so great. I got a wand; it is 10 inches long, made from Hawthorn Wood and has a Unicorn Hair inside. I think it fits me perfectly, seeing as I have hair nearly as light as a unicorn and am certainly as handsome, but I am getting ahead of myself.
When I arrived with mother and father in Diagon Alley, Father first took me to Gringotts. I have been there before of course, but it is always amazing to see our riches. Father made me go to Madame Malkins first to buy my school uniform, even though I didn't want to, but looking back on it now it was the best decision my father has ever made."
Stopping for a moment, Harry frowned down at the book, he truly couldn't follow the train of thoughts of his 13 years old mate; the visit to the tailor had always been a rather bad and embarrassing memory for him. He had known nothing about the wizarding world back then and had felt embarrassed as he had been confronted by a child who clearly knew so much more about everything.
"My parents didn't accompany me to the tailor; instead mother went to look for wands that might suit me, while father went to buy my books.
It was as boring at Madame Malkins as I had expected until this boy came in. I'm not sure why, but he was the most beautiful and nicest person I have ever seen in my life; he looked like a little angel!"
Harry nearly dropped the book as he read the last sentence. An angel? How could Draco's and his perspective of a situation have been so different? Had he really left such a great impression on his young mate? And why had he behaved like a prat then? Knowing that he most likely would find the answer somewhere in the diary, he read on.
"I knew that the person that was entering would be special even before I had seen him, because his strong, pure magic had floated into the shop like the warm rise of the sun, and my magic instantly started to hum and reach out for the other's power. All of my skin started tingling and I nearly wasn't able to suppress the gasp that wanted to escape my mouth as my eyes fell on him, he was just so beautiful. I know I said it before, but he truly was! He had huge green eyes that looked like the finest emeralds, I am sure that not even my family own two jewels that could rival those beautiful eyes. His skin was sun-kissed from the summer, like all those filthy muggles like to look like, but with his slim figure, his small chin, long neck, slender hands and perfectly slim lips I could see that he had to be a Pureblood like myself. Of course, his magic had told me as much as well, but it is still rare to see the purity of our blood so perfectly reflected in someone's appearance."
Harry's hand shook as he realized that his mate had literally fallen for him at first sight. And not only that, Draco had already felt their soulbond back then, there was no other way to interpret the feeling he had described with childish honesty. How could their meeting have gone so wrong?
That Draco had mixed his revelations with his father's strong beliefs about Purebloods and Muggleborns didn't surprise him. Lucius still didn't like Muggleborn witches and wizards much, but at least he had learned to respect them when they were as strong and loyal as his friend Hermione.
"I want to get to know the boy better. I hope I can impress him! Father always says that it is the best way to get closer to other people by impressing them.
'Hogwarts, too?' I asked to begin the conversation and to find out if I would soon see the boy again, in case our parents would not show up to exchange floo addresses.
To my relief the boy answered in the positive, in a shy manner but with a voice as clear and innocent as an angel's choir.
'My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands,' I told the raven to show him what a caring family I had, unfortunately it didn't impress him, just the contrary, he even seemed to close up even further. I truly was irritated, but a Malfoy never gives up easily and I quickly changed the topic to one every boy loves: brooms and Quidditch.
My friends and I all love Quidditch and I have never met one who wasn't interested in the sport. I told him that I was planning on getting my father to buy me my own racing broom and smuggling it into school, with hope that the boy would ask if he could borrow it sometimes, but for some reason he didn't reacted at all. I finally grew suspicious and thought that the boy maybe wasn't a sports fan after all, and as I asked him if he had his own broom, he indeed said no.
Some people might have been discouraged at that point, but I only grew more excited with every passing minute. Finally a challenge; finally someone who was not like anybody else. And besides, there are more topics than just Quidditch, so I chose a topic he just had to be interested in and asked him if he already knew into which house he would be sorted. I am not sure, but I think I saw irritation in his eyes for a moment; maybe he was afraid that he would not be able to fulfil his parents’ expectations and get sorted into the house his ancestors had gone to? Many children fear something like that; I of course did not, there wasn't a single Malfoy who had not gone into Slytherin since the school had been founded.
I was about to coax the information out of him about which house his ancestors had been sorted in, but at that moment a huge, bear-like figure appeared in front of the window of the shop. Luckily the boy didn't notice my moment of anxiety and I quickly overplayed my lapse by saying:
'Look at that man!'
The boy quickly looked over his shoulder and as he turned back around, I could only stare at the small, but excited smile that was tugging on his full lips and the happy shine in his emerald eyes that made them reflect a thousand shades of green.
'That is Hagrid, he works at Hogwarts' the boy said.
I truly had no idea what to respond, I had heard about that man from father, he is a filthy half-creature who was too stupid to even graduate and only had work because of Dumbledore; but it was clear that the boy liked the man, still, as a good friend it was my duty to warn him about the giant.
'I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed;" I told him and from that point onwards, everything went wrong.
The face of the beautiful boy hardened and his eyes grew as cold as father's sometimes got when he was especially disappointed or angry about something and he said:
'I think he is brilliant.'
I desperately tried to find a way redeem my myself and asked him why he was even going shopping with that man and not with his parents, but I only dug my own grave deeper.
"My parents are dead," he answered and I froze in shock. I wanted to say something comforting, but I didn't know what one was supposed to say in such an situation, and all I could think about was that this explained so much: It explained why the boy had no idea about which House he would be sorted in (at least if he had been raised in an orphanage or had been adopted) and suddenly another, frightening thought entered my mind:
What if he had been raised by muggles? His magic seemed powerful and pure, but maybe he was only a powerful Halfblood. That thought frightened me, I know what father and mother think about Halfbloods, but the thought of maybe being forbidden of befriend this boy because of his blood frightened me even more.
Before I had any chance of stopping myself, I had already asked:
'But they were our kind, weren't they?'
You can't believe how I relieved I was as he told me that his parents had both been magical, it was as if a huge burden had fallen from my heart and I sighed in relief, before continuing the conversation in a manner I was much more familiar with, relieved that I finally had found a topic I could talk with him about. 'I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same; they've never been brought up to know about our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get their letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname anyway?'
If I had already owned my wand, I would have hexed Madame Malkins then as she chose that moment to tell the boy that he was finished. I could only watch in disappointment as he hopped from his footstool, a cold feeling of loss rising in my chest. I quickly called after him, telling him that we would see each other at Hogwarts, but I think he didn't hear me.
I left the store ten minutes later and met my parents outside, and I even succeeded in persuading my father into buying me a broom, I am sure that the boy would start to love Quidditch as soon as he had watched his first match at Hogwarts and then he would surely want to fly with me. Of course, I didn't tell father that I wanted to use it to impress a boy and he didn't ask.
I also got a new supply of chocolate frogs, but I still feel disappointed right now, I don't even know the boy's name and will only see him again in four weeks. Maybe I will try to talk mother into going shopping with me again, she goes to Diagon Alley often enough after all, and hopefully I will meet him there again."
Harry stared at the end of the diary entry; he couldn't believe what he had just read. Had it all been a misunderstanding or had he misinterpreted Draco so badly back then? He couldn't say and he didn't dare to look up, instead he quickly turned the page and started with the second entry:
1 August, 1988
"Dear diary,
You won't believe it! I found out who the boy is and it is Harry Potter! Father will be so proud if I tell him that I have befriended the Boy-Who-Lived; I can't wait to write him a letter with the news, but first I have to meet him again and become better friends .
I never would have thought that I would see him so soon again, well it was only in the Prophet, but still, I finally know who he is. My Housemates will envy me so much when they see me being friends with Harry Potter. I am a bit surprised that he is so shy, I mean, he is famous, but I will help him when we are at Hogwarts and tell him everything I know about the school. Well... I guess he will know at least as much as I do, he sure has the best private tutors. Hopefully that means that he also knows how to fly already, maybe he even has his own broom as well and we could fly some races or play a game of ‘Catch the Snitch’. Oh I can't wait to see him again, we will become the best of friends, I just know it. I think it would be odd if we did not end up friends, after all, who could be more worthy of becoming Harry Potter's friend than me, a Malfoy?
But I will go now and polish my broom, I want that it to look good when I meet Harry again, he will not think that I am a messy person who does not take care of his things."
10 August, 1988
"Dear diary,
I know it still is a while, but I am getting more and more excited with every day, I want Hogwarts to start already! But at least Harry is now in the paper almost every day since he had gone to Diagon Alley and I am collecting every photo and every article about him. Maybe I will give them to him one day; I could bind them into a book."
25 August, 1988
"Dear diary,
I was so embarrassed! I must have slept really deeply because of that wonderful dream I had, because when I woke up I noticed that I had wet my pants. But the dream just was too good to wake up from. I had lent my broom to Harry because he had forgotten his own back at home. Harry was really impressed with my flying skills, I was even quicker than him on one of the old school brooms. We had been flying the whole day and when we landed again, he gave me a kiss on the cheek as thanks that I had given him my broom. My whole body started to tingle, it felt so nice and his magic had danced over my skin like the warmth of a sunrise. I felt all warm and dizzy.
Waking up wasn't that nice afterwards, but father calmed me down and explained to me that I had not wet my pants, but that something normal had happened to me. He told me that it was a sign that I was becoming a man and that I have no reason to feel ashamed. I still think that it was embarrassing though.
My school uniforms arrived today as well and I have to say that I look striking in them. I am glad that I look as handsome and pretty as my parents, because I am sure that Harry would not like to have an ugly best friend. But I have to go downstairs now, the Parkinson’s are visiting and mother insists that I play with Pansy, even though I don't like her. She is stupid and ugly and loud and nothing like Harry, who is quiet and graceful. I will just play hide and seek with her and hide in one of my many playrooms that she doesn't know."
Harry felt his cheeks heat up as he ended the last entry; Draco had dreamed about him and it had not been some random dream, but a wet dream. He was sure that his embarrassment could be smelled throughout the entire room and sure enough, as he glanced to his left he saw that a rosy tint was dusting over his second mate's cheeks as well. Oscar must have collected his school bag, because the boy had been reading their Transfigurations book. He quickly looked away again before his mate would actually feel his stare and the situation could grow even more awkward.
"Is something wrong?" his father asked suddenly from behind him and he quickly shook his head in denial; he wasn't planning on sharing Draco's secrets anyway, not even with Lucius.
Turning to the next page, he winced inwardly as he saw the date of their first school day, the day he had fought with Draco on the train.
1 September, 1988
"Dear diary,
You will not believe what happened! Harry refused my friendship! I am so disappointed right now. I don't know what I did wrong, but I will find a way to correct my mistake, I want to become his friend. I know that we are meant to be friends, I could feel it in our magic again; this tingling, this reaching-out of our powers. It has to mean something, doesn't it? But first things first:
I purposefully made sure that I was early at King's Cross. Mother and father thought that I was just so excited about my train ride, but in truth I did not want to miss Harry when he arrived. Father of course helped me to find a good compartment in the front of the train and when my trunk had been safely stowed away, I went out again to wait for Harry.
Mother and father asked a few times whom I was waiting for, but I didn't answer and I think they believed that I was looking for some of my friends who had not yet arrived either.
I grew so nervous when I could not find Harry, but then I finally spotted him. However, to my great disappointment he was accompanied by a whole mob of what could only be Weasley’s. Father always said that Weasley’s all had red hair, freckles and more children than they should have, and with those rags the mob was wearing, it certainly was the case. My beautiful Harry really stuck out. He looked nervous, just like most First Years, but also happy, that soft smile was back on his face. He was pushing his cart all by himself and I could not see any relative or guardian, I think I had been right after all to assume that he was raised by muggles; there was after all no reason why a magical guardian would not accompany him to the train station.
I decided to go back to my compartment for now and wait for my opportunity to speak to my Harry again, and then I would warn him about the stupid people that surrounded him. Harry Potter after all is a celebrity and even though he is not completely Pureblooded, he still is powerful enough that no one would ever dare mention it, he has defeated You-Know-Who after all, and should not be seen in that type of company.
I bid my goodbyes to my parents before going back to my compartment. Blaise and Theo were waiting there, but unfortunately Pansy and her stupid friend Daphne were as well. Crabbe and Goyle joined us just before the train departed and I tried to fake interest in their boring conversations, but my mind always wandered back to Harry. I was truly worried about him, the Weasley’s could easily become a social danger for him and the innocent boy would probably not even notice it until it was too late. Finally, when even my friends noticed my restlessness, I stood up and excused myself. Crabbe and Goyle tried to follow me as they always do, but I told them that I would only go to the loo, before finally leaving to search for my little friend.
I found him in the very last compartment at the other end of the train. He was sitting there with one of the redheads, the youngest I guessed from his looks, and they were quietly talking and laughing with each other. I got angry when I heard that Harry was having fun with him, somebody who was so unworthy of becoming his friend, but for the moment I decided to listen in on their conversation.
I had been right, Harry was indeed raised by muggles, but he didn't tell Weasley much more, which made me smirk as I thought that they were such good friends after all.
Thinking about it, it is truly a shame that Harry Potter, the hero of our world, was raised by muggles. He probably still had lived a life of luxury, at least, as much luxury as muggles know, they are on the level of cavemen after all, but someone as important as Harry should not be forced to come to Hogwarts with any lack of knowledge about our world. But he fortunately has me and I will be able to teach him everything he needs, so as not to stick out amongst the Purebloods.
Anyway, some girl passed me and stormed in, she had messy brown hair and everything about her screamed muggle born: the way she moved and the way she talked as she had entered the compartment as well.
Harry and the Weasley instantly started arguing with her and she left again quickly. I decided that I would speak to Harry then, before any more unworthy people could demand his attention.
I stepped in and ignored the ugly redhead to my right, concentrating entirely on my soon-to-be friend. Harry from up close looks even more beautiful than from afar. I still feel like blushing. Something strange started tingling in my lower abdomen.
I tried to appear aloof and hoped that Harry might remember me from our first meeting, but he already dismissed my introduction.
Back in the train I thought that he was probably still shy, but right now I think that the Weasel must have told him ugly lies about me; Malfoy’s and Weasley’s never got along after all.
'By the way, my name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,' I introduced myself, waiting for the recognition that would pass through his beautiful eyes, after all we Malfoy’s are famous and I just can't believe that Harry Potter would not even get the Prophet, even if he had to live with muggles, but nothing. Instead, the annoying Weasel snorted. I saw my chance to finally tell Harry what an unworthy and disgustingly poor bunch the Weasley’s were. I offered my help and a warning to stay cautious of people like those redheads.
All Harry answered was:
'I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.'
His voice sounded so cool in that moment, it pierced my heart and I had to grit my teeth to not make any sound.
Shame and anger filled me and I think I might have overdone my second warning a bit by mentioning the fate of his parents, I shouldn't have done that, but I just hadn't been able to stop myself; shame is such a disgusting and uncomfortable feeling!
The Weasel was instantly on his feet and I retreated for the moment, it wouldn't do for me to arrive at my sorting with a bloody nose, mother and father would be so disappointed.
The rest of the train ride was horrible. I wanted to apologize to Harry for my last words and I wanted to speak to him again, explain to him what a good friend I could be. When the train finally arrived, we First Years had to follow that oaf Hagrid, and we crossed the last distance to the castle by little boats.
I tried not to stare at Harry as we were finally led into the Great Hall and was glad that he stood somewhere behind me.
I of course was sorted into Slytherin, but watching Harry's sorting was way more important.
Everyone became really silent when Harry went to sit down on the chair and for extra luck I crossed my fingers beneath the table. Harry belongs in Slytherin, because in Gryffindor the Weasel will only bother him, therefore he needed all help he could get. And I will always help Harry!
It took so long for the Sorting Hat to decide! I don't even know why! My heart was beating really fast and I got so very nervous. Even more than at my own sorting.
And then the bloody Hat sent him to Gryffindor! Gryffindor! My Harry in the same house as those stupid redheads. And Harry didn't even seem bothered by it! He sat down next to that Weasel, when he could have chosen less stupid Gryffindors! It's so horrible!
I know right now that it will be harder than I thought, but I will not yet give up on Harry. I am sure that I can impress him somehow and show him that the Weasels are not good friends to have, and I will even ignore the fact that he is a Gryffindor."
Harry only scanned the next few entries quickly. Draco continued to have dreams about him and they had grown from hugging and kissing on the cheek to kissing on the mouth, still fairly innocent, but a progression none the less. His mate also described how beautiful he had found him in a school uniform
"...looking like a true wizard," and his reaction to that, it had apparently been the first time that Draco had grown hard outside of sleeping and the boy had been fairly overtaxed by it and had not known what to do. Another thing he described was how torn he felt between wanting to be nice and impress him and fulfil the expectations of his Housemates. Draco had clearly not wanted to bully him in the beginning, but the fear of being called weak by his own piers had pressured him to act against that wish.
The next diary entry that he read more thoroughly again, was the one from the 5th of September, the day of their first flying lesson. He had his own vivid memories about that particular day, but by now he was curious about what had made Draco act like a complete prat that day:
"Dear diary,
When I walked into the common room this morning, there was an announcement hanging on our blackboard. You can't believe my joy as I read that we would have our first flying lesson this afternoon with the Gryffindors! And more importantly Harry!
For days I have been searching for the perfect opportunity to finally impress Harry and this was my chance. Father had taught me how to fly when I was six and since then I have been training and everyone is saying that I am really talented on a broom. I am surely much more graceful in the air than the Weasel or any other Gryffindor who tries to steal my place as Harry's friend.
The lesson was scheduled at three-thirty, but I was so excited that I already went down at two. My year mates followed me; I think they already see me as their leader. Even some older students already listen to me. I am truly glad that my family is so powerful and influential; I couldn't even imagine what it would be like as a second-class Pureblood like the Weasley’s or even worse, a Halfblood!
To my disappointment Harry was not yet on the Quidditch Pitch where the lesson would take place and I was forced to once again chat with Pansy and Daphne. The two girls were annoying before, but since we have come to Hogwarts, they never leave my side. Sometimes I just want to hex them, but then Father would get angry, the Parkinson’s and Greengrass’ are powerful families and business partners of my family after all.
When he arrived, Harry did not even glance at me.
Madame Hooch arrived early and the lesson started. As I already knew how to get a broom to fly, I quickly gave the command to have time to watch Harry. Harry's broom was flying as well already and he was grinning proudly at that ugly redhead, but at that moment I was only happy that Harry seemed to already enjoy flying. In a way, it will be the first of many things we have in common,
Loud shouts pulled me from my musing and as I looked around I saw that stupid excuse of a wizard, Neville Longbottom, fall to the ground with a loud thud.
The fat crybaby instantly started sniffling and Madame Hooch announced that she needed to escort him to the Hospital Wing. Why she had to do that I don't know, I didn't really listen, because my eyes were transfixed on the stupid boy's Remembrall. That was my chance to finally show Harry what a talented person I am.
Without thinking twice, I snatched the glass ball up, my heart clenched as it always does when I have to be mean to Harry, but it finally got me his attention. Harry stood in front of me in the blink of an eye and it took all of my strength to not only stare at him; it is amazing how much more beautiful he grows the closer he is, especially his eyes, I could stare into them for a whole day and not get bored.
Harry was so angry and his eyes flashed like those of an angry dragon... or an angry lion, I guess.
But I foolishly continued to taunt him, because it gave me reason to show him my flying skills. I mounted my broom and pushed up from the ground, gasps following me. But as I looked back to see the surprised and awestruck expression on my cute, little raven's face, I nearly fell off my broom in surprise as he pushed off the ground as well and came after me.
Within seconds Harry had caught up to me and cut my path off with an elegant turn of his broom.
I don't know what made me throw the Remembrall. Maybe my anger over not being able to impress my little raven again, maybe my wish to see how good Harry truly was on a broom.
I watched in awe as Harry's eyes sharpened like those of a hawk who had caught sight of a rabbit. They flashed with determination and the tingle returned into my stomach, only much stronger than ever before. My penis hardened in my trousers and I did my best to not flush, but it was hard as Harry elegantly fell into a swoop, raced after the little ball and for a frightening second I thought he would collide with the ground, but he caught the ball and pulled up in time.
Professor McGonagall showed up then and I quickly hid behind a nearby tree. As she dragged Harry away, my housemates laughed in glee, saying that he would be kicked out of school, I felt so panicked!
I landed, intend on running after them when I remembered my problem. I had no choice but to excuse myself from my friends again and hide away in the Slytherin locker room. My problem always went away on its own until then, but not today. My penis throbbed painfully in my trousers and I felt hot all over. I had to relieve myself. Whenever I closed my eyes I saw Harry's green orbs flashing in front of me and the throbbing grew even harder. I opened my pants to relieve the pressure and as I accidentally brushed against my length, I gasped in surprise and pleasure. I wasn't sure what that feeling meant, but I guessed it was the reason why I sometimes wake up with wet pants in the morning. I hesitantly touched myself again, this time grabbing my penis carefully, and suddenly the urge to rub and stroke overcame me. I massaged myself through the silk fabric of my boxers, not even aware enough to notice how I slumped against the locker behind me anymore. The tingling feeling shifted from my lower stomach to my groin and grew, until I felt like I would explode and then I did. I exploded with Harry's name on my tongue and everything went white for a moment.
When my heart had calmed down again, I noticed with embarrassment a thick, sticky substance coating my fingers and quickly ran over to one of the sinks to clean myself. I felt totally mortified and confused as I tried to clean the sticky substance from my penis and when I was finished, instead of joining my friends in the common room, I went to the library to find out what was happening with me.
Later, on my way to dinner I met Harry again. Once again I had to decide on which side I stood. But now I have to duel with him! I hope he backs out of it till tomorrow night for I do not want to hurt him! As Crabbe and Goyle had joined me at the marble staircase, I was forced to act as if I don't like Harry, once again. Unfortunately what should only have been an exchange of a few foul words, ended in a rendezvous for a duel. I really don't feel good about the idea of fighting against Harry. He always seems so small and fragile and he does not deserved to be hexed, but I guess there is no backing out of it now, the duel is scheduled for tomorrow night.
I also have not found the answer yet, but I believe that father has forgotten to explain something very important to me about that whole becoming a man issue.
I will return to the library tomorrow, but for today I will go to bed."
6 September, 1988
"Dear diary,
I found out what is happening to me! Father was right, it has to do with me becoming a man, but it is only a very small part of it.
The books I have read today said that I am attracted to Harry, or maybe even in love with him. I don't know how to find out if I am only attracted or if I have fallen in love, I never knew that boys can feel those things for other boys, but when I think of father giving mother a kiss on her cheek sometimes and imagine that it would be me instead with Harry, it does not feel wrong. I wonder how father will react if I tell him about Harry, but I think I will keep it to myself for now.
But now I have to go to the duel, even though I don't want to."
Harry was about to turn to the next day, wondering if he would find out why Draco had not showed up in the end, when he saw the small, scribbled note at the very bottom of the page, apparently added on the same evening.
"Diary, I couldn't do it! I was already there and Harry was there as well, but when I saw him standing there so small and just so beautiful looking between all the trophies, I just couldn't duel him. I want to protect Harry and not injure him. Luckily I already had the feeling earlier that something might happen and had told Crabbe that I wouldn't need him as my second.
If he asks me tomorrow, I will just tell him that Harry did not show up. I really am starting to hate all that lying, why can't I just become Harry's friend?"
The next few entries Harry again scanned quickly. It was shocking to read how Draco's obsession with him grew and how much his mate had suffered. The blonde's dreams grew more and more regular and Draco even went so far as to follow him nearly everywhere whenever he had the time. That was also what had led to Draco following him, Ron and Hermione to Hagrid and later to watch them as they had sneaked up to the Astronomy Tower with Norbert. He had been caught by Filch that night and, cowardly as his mate had been at that age, had told McGonagall everything, but their Head of House had not believed him, as Harry had already known.
Draco also had been right out panicked, as he had heard about his fight with the troll and it had given the young blonde nightmares for a whole week. His run-in with Voldemort had an equal effect and as Draco had returned home after his first school year, he was confused and worn out.
Harry wasn't sure if he should feel guilty for his past ignorance, but then again, they both had been young and raised fairly differently. Draco had behaved the best way he had known, like he had been taught by his parents, and the blonde had not understood what he had done wrong the whole year. There had even been tear stains on some pages, but still, Draco did not give up until the holidays, at which time everything had turned for the worse for the blonde once more:
29 July, 1989
"Dear diary,
I talked with father about my wish to become Harry Potter's friend and I can't believe what he said! He said it would have been good if I had succeeded, as our master would have been very proud upon his return, but that I should not forget that Harry Potter was now my enemy as he clearly did not wish to associate with the right kind of people. He said I should forget about him and that Harry would soon be dead anyway. Then he told me to follow him into his office, where he opened his safe and handed me a book. He ordered me to always carry it on my body and that I should slip it to Harry when I got the chance. The book is supposed to bring Potter down, but I know what father meant by that, he wants me to kill him.
The book is really scary and I have no doubt that it will be able to kill my raven if it gets to him. Dark and evil magic leaks from it and I always get frightened when I touch it. Sometimes I believe it whispers to me and if I forget to place it into my desk drawer during the night, I get the most horrible nightmares.
I will not give it to Harry, I could never do that, but I need to find a way to get rid of it so that father doesn't grow suspicious. Since I am carrying the book father is always keeping an eye on me. It makes me nervous and I fear that my only chance to protect Harry will be keeping my distance. My heart hurts at the thought, but I would do anything for him, I think I truly love him."
Harry's eyes had widened at that entry, he had always believed that it had been Lucius who had given Voldemort's diary to Ginny, but apparently the man had only taken the blame to protect his son. It was cruel that his older mate had even thought of using his fourteen year old son, but he had done it in his madness to impress his old Master. A silent tear slid down his cheek as he realized what Draco had already done for him while trying to protect him.
"Harry? What is the matter?" His father suddenly asked very softly, so that not even Draco and Lucius would be able to hear them speak from where they sat.
"I..." Harry whispered back, trying his best not to break into tears. This was all so sad; he couldn't believe what hardship Draco had already lived through. "I..." he said again "...will never again call Draco cowardly."
He felt his father's eyes trail upwards to the section he had been reading and only a moment later the man stiffened behind him.
Hastily, Harry turned the page and continued reading:
20 August, 1998
"Dear diary,
I finally got rid of the scary book. I threw it into the Weaselette's cauldron and as poor as she is I don't think that she will give it to Harry.
Father is very proud of me and I am proud as well, because I could save my little raven. But I am also sad. Father is talking more and more about the return of his old master and by now I have no doubt that I will have to keep away from Harry if I want to protect him. Hopefully father's master will never return."
The next entries could only be described as a study in sadness. Draco first started by stopping to follow him, but as a sort of compensation, he also started collecting all kinds of things from him. Harry found thrown away notes he must have made at one time or another, old quills which Draco said had been his, and the blonde had even managed to steal his Gryffindor scarf from his locker in the Gryffindor changing room; at least that explained where his scarf had suddenly disappeared to, he had always wondered about that.
Draco had quickly realized that his behaviour only caused him more and more pain and after about three months, he finally started to convince himself that all the nasty rumours he heard about him in the Slytherin common room were actually true. Draco succeeded shockingly fast with his attempt, and that was where the real animosity had started, even though Harry had not known it back then.
Despite everything, Draco's dreams never stopped and even grew more detailed throughout their Second Year. His mate started to feel ashamed about them and later even angry. He described how he wanked in the shower every morning and sometimes had to even stand up during the night, because his ‘problem’ would just not go away. That in return had made Draco even angrier with him, and Harry could even understand that Draco blamed him for his dreams; after all, it was his magic that apparently teased the blonde whenever he did as much as pass him, his mate truly was sensitive in that aspect.
When he had then also turned out to be a Parselmouth, Draco had nearly gone insane. Arousal and anger about the fact that a Gryffindor was blessed with such a noble gift fought against each other inside of him and that was why his mate had grown even more vicious during their Second Year.
The entries continued in the same pattern for over a year until he slipped in his tight control over his emotions. Harry had always believed that it had been the attack of the Dementors at his one Quidditch match and his violent reaction to them that had made Draco think about that tasteless joke in Hogsmeade, but he had been completely wrong once more:
12 November 1989:
"Dear diary,
I shouldn't have done it! I shouldn't have followed scarhead to the Quidditch Pitch. Why am I always so weak when he is involved? Why do I still follow him? I hate him; I don't want to be with him anymore! I am a proud Pureblood and want to marry an intelligent and beautiful witch one day to continue my family line, but oh, when I saw him under that shower, all smooth pale, soft looking skin and teasing, pink nipples.
And I gave into my body's urges right there, hidden in a filthy storing room, while my eyes never left those dainty hands that caressed the perfect body.
Only when I was back in my dorm room did my senses return and I punched the wall in anger. How dare Potter to do this to me? I swear he will pay for it!
Harry winced at the end of the lines, but the next entry was even worse, it had been written only a single day later:
13 November 1989
"Dear diary,
I have to find a way to deal with my Problems, I cannot afford to react to Potter in the way I do! But how? Everything I do myself is clearly not enough, the dreams won't stop and neither does my body stay calm when I am near him.
Would it help if someone else relieves me of the pressure? I know that Pansy and Daphne would be ready to do anything for me; they want to become the next Lady Malfoy after all. (Not that either of them has a chance, but I don't have to tell them that.)
It soon became a daily routine for Draco to work his stress and sexual frustrations off that way; still his dreams continued and his hate for him grew. When Draco returned home after his fourth year, he was delighted about the news that Voldemort was finally back and would soon get rid of Harry for him. It was already deep in the night when Harry finally closed the diary after that last entry. By now it did not surprise him anymore why Draco had fought so much against their bond and why he had been so angry. His mate had tried for over a year to get his attention and then had reluctantly pulled away in order to protect him from his family. By doing so he had hurt his own feelings so much that he had desperately tried to find a way to rid himself of that love that was only paining him, which had finally ended in that hate that had dominated for the last two months.
Harry didn't dare to imagine how it must feel to fall in love, find his soulmate and have the love rejected or not even noticed by the other person. His hands shook and for a long time he could only stare down at the old, worn diary that now lay innocently and closed in his lap.
He knew he needed to come to a decision, and he truly wanted to forgive and trust Draco, especially after what he had read, but he also knew that he still was afraid after what had happened, and would not be able to let the blonde very close so soon.
They needed to talk, a lot, and he needed to show Draco that he and his feelings were finally noticed, without giving more than he was able to at the moment.
His eyes unobtrusively wandered over to Lucius. His mate was reading some kind of letter, probably from the Ministry, which was after all his employer. Lucius surely would step in if Draco went too far again and he would surely not leave him alone with his son any time soon. He would not be alone with Draco and the wish to settle their bond was too strong to simply send Draco away. In the end they were soulmates and he had no doubt that he would one day be able to trust Draco like he trusted Lucius, he only needed time.
Coming to a decision, he spoke up, his eyes still fixed on the diary.
"It... is getting late... I think, we should... continue this tomorrow," he said, his voice growing weaker with every word he spoke.
"I think that is a good idea," said Lucius, and Harry could hear the sound of his mates moving. He still didn't dare to look up, not knowing what he could already give Draco and too tired to think about it right now, but when he heard silent, almost dragging footsteps get further and further away from him, his head suddenly snapped up as if commanded by an inaudible voice.
Draco looked worse than he did a few hours earlier when he had arrived. The blonde tried to walk straight and proud as always, and as if his dismissal had not hurt him once more, but Harry could see the truth clearly in the tension of his second mate's back muscles that was outlined against his white button down.
Before he could even realize what he was doing, he was speaking again: "Draco, if you want... you can stay here, with Lucius and me... that is..."
Draco spun around and Harry could see the disbelief written all over his face.
"... but only if you can live with your father being there as well," he added, wanting to make sure that Draco understood his conditions correctly. Behind him, his father squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as he waited for his second mate's answer. Draco stared at him for a few seconds, as if he did not dare to believe his eyes, but then he finally nodded once and said:
"Of course, father is your mate as well... we are all mates, are we not?"
A small smile tugged on Harry's lips at the first words of acceptance from his second mate; even though he knew that it still would be a long way until they would be one family. Draco and Lucius would have to talk as well; he knew that, he couldn't imagine what it must feel like to have the same mate, when you had always lived as father and son.
He stood up and turned around to wish his father a good night. He hadn't been sure if Severus would agree to his decision to let Draco sleep in his quarters, it had only been a few hours since the boy had attacked him after all, but he was relieved when he saw pride shining out of those stern, black orbs.
"I wish you a good night, my brat," his father said and bent down to give him a soft kiss on his forehead.
"I will see you tomorrow," Severus said and turned to Lucius to give his friend a pointed look, who in reply only glared back.
Harry watched the short exchange, and then how his father left with long strides. A huge weight seemed to have fallen from the man and he could feel it as well. Their bond was not healed, but today they were taking the first step in the right direction.
When he turned back around he saw his two mates were standing awkwardly next to each other, both wearing the same expectant look on their faces. With a flush he realized that it up to him right now to give the commands, regardless of how much he hated the feeling, but he was also glad that the two proud aristocrats showed that much respect for him.
"Um... where do you want to sleep, Draco? Lucius and I always used Gryffindor's room..." he said, not knowing exactly how he should proceed, and Draco looked equally uncomfortable, as if he did not dare to voice his opinion. Luckily Lucius came to their rescue, it probably was a good thing that at least one of them was already an adult and more practiced in dealing with awkward situations.
"I would suggest that we search for a new room, a room for all three of us, as a sign of a new beginning."
Harry knew what his older mate meant; The Gryffindor room had been theirs, they had spent beautiful hours in there, but today was the beginning of a new phase in their life.
Nodding again, he turned to Draco and said: "Would you like to chose one?"
"If you want me to," Draco replied and waited for another nod before he hesitantly walked back into the Hallway.
"You shared Gryffindor's room and I slept in Slytherin's one. So, maybe Ravenclaw's or Hufflepuff's?" Draco proposed and looked back and forth between the two doors.
"Then I suggest Hufflepuff's," Lucius said with an unhappy sneer. "I am no fan of her students, but we will not fit in Rovena's room; she has a whole library in there."
They entered said room and Harry had to admit that Lucius probably was right, this room had the most space and he knew how much space a single Malfoy needed, or rather, how much space a single Malfoy's wardrobe needed. His eyes wandered over to the huge double bed and the walls that were coloured in a light cream colour. A desk stood in one corner and a single cupboard in another, but that would surely soon change.
"Could one of you call that House Elf, I need my pyjamas," Draco's voice pulled him from his musing. Flushing, because he had not thought about that himself, he called "Oscar," and watched as the little elf appeared instantly.
"Draco needs some things from his room. He will be moving in with us now," he told his servant who turned huge eyes at the younger blonde.
"Does that mean Oscar is to answer to young Master as well?" Oscar asked him, despite still staring at his mate.
"Yes," he said and left to quickly retrieve his own pyjamas, he couldn't sleep naked or only in a shirt next to Draco yet.
Once in Gryffindor's bedroom he opened his closet and pulled a pair of blue pyjamas out before deciding to quickly change as well. He walked into the adjoining bathroom and quickly changed, but just when he wanted to return to his mates his eyes landed on his reflection. The thin silk fabric clung to his slim frame, outlining every single one of his bones, at least, that was how he thought he looked like in that moment. All the foul comments Draco had made about his height, his figure, his childish or even almost feminine appearance came back to his mind and suddenly he felt immensely shy and vulnerable. A feeling of regret rose inside of him for his second mate; he really didn't look like the dream guy for a gay man. With Lucius he had been lucky, but it wasn't really surprising that Draco didn't share the same rare taste for his scrawny figure.
"Well," he thought as he looked at himself, "I can't change my appearance but I can at least hide my scrawny body."
He called for Oscar again and ordered him to bring one of his Weasley jumpers and a thick bathrobe. Oscar returned quickly with the two items and bowed deeply after he had placed them on a small foot stool.
"Can Oscar do anything else for Master Harry?" The little elf asked, and after a moment of pondering the question Harry nodded. Draco did not only not like his general appearance, but his attire as well, therefore he asked Oscar: "Would you go to Madame Malkins for me tomorrow? I want you to bring me a set of every traditional wizarding robe she has."
Oscar nodded with huge eyes before leaving him again. Once alone again, Harry quickly pulled the thick jumper over and then the bathrobe, before turning once more to his reflection. With relief he noticed that his scrawniness did not show anymore, and with a reassuring smile at himself he left the bathroom and returned to his mates.
Draco sat awkwardly on their bed, careful to not look at his father or anything else. Lucius meanwhile sat in the office chair in front of the desk, equally looking at nothing in particular; those two certainly had a lot to work through as well.
One of them must also have enlarged the bed, because it was now wide enough to easily hold four people instead of only two.
When neither of his mates noticed him in their effort to act as if the other wasn't there right now, Harry cleared his throat and both heads finally turned around. He saw Lucius’ eyebrow twitch at his outfit, but the man didn't comment, neither did Draco.
The awkward moment came back with full force and for a long minute they all just stared at each other, until Draco cleared his throat and said: "I will just... go to bed then."
As if that was the sign Lucius had been waiting for, he stood up as well and motioned for Harry to climb in after their mate. Nervous, Harry followed Draco and did as told, but once on top of the bed, he did not know what to do next. Should he just lay down? Would it be okay to not cuddle up to Draco? Because he was sure he couldn't do that already.
Lucius’ hand appeared next to him and pushed the blanket to the side (they had three pillows and three blankets right now) and he quickly laid down, his eyes downcast and his cheeks heating up with a flush. Lucius scooted in behind him and for a moment he wanted to cuddle closer to his older mate, like he had always done, but then he quickly stopped himself, but Draco had of course noticed already.
"It is fine, Harry, you can... lay next to father if you want. I know I have to earn that right back first, but that doesn't mean that I wish to pull you apart any longer."
Harry blinked at Draco, torn between snorting about the phrase lay next to (because no Malfoy cuddled and that would never change) and surprised at the complete turn his second mate's behaviour had taken since that afternoon. Maybe Draco's attack hadn't been a bad thing; maybe it had been what the blonde had needed to finally see reason. Smiling thankfully at the younger blonde, he scooted backwards, but he did not turn around, he didn't want Draco feeling ignored or left out, his mate had felt so for enough years already.
Lucius extinguished the candles on their nightstands and darkness descended on them. Harry relaxed into the embrace of his older mate; he had missed this for so long now. He loved to cuddle with his dad and he had not felt cold for a single night, Severus had made sure of that, but his father was his father and his mate was his mate, and no one could replace the other, he needed both of them; or rather, all three of them. He felt Lucius relax as well, and in the darkness he could see that Draco still lay stiff, wrapped all alone in his own blanket, while trying to not look as if he envied them.
Without his permission one of Harry's hands crawled out from under the blanket and grabbed Draco's. His second mate was ice cold, no wonder after so many weeks without Lucius or him or even a drop of blood. Draco stiffened for a split second and Harry was sure that his mate's eyes had widened in surprise again, but then he finally relaxed as well and Harry could close his eyes peacefully, a soft smile on his lips.
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A Different Kind of Hero