Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Brutally Beloved	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3993 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or the characters named here. I make no money from this writing.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Frenzy

“Hiding from your friends, Potter?” The drawl wasn’t as mean as he might’ve expected, and he turned to glare at the offending blond. Of course he’d choose to show up, here, of all places, where there were thousands of eyes watching, keeping them on their best, or at least, not their worst, behavior.
“No. Just taking a break from the endless banal questions. Reporters really are a different species, you know?” Harry said, eyes moving to skim the crowd. He’d been accosted by no less than six reporters already, all asking the same stupid questions. What was he going to do now, that he was a full-fledged Auror? Was he going to get married? Would he live in London?
“Truly, they are.” Malfoy agreed, leaning against the wall, seeming comfortable in the space next to Harry. Harry tried to keep his mouth shut. He really did.
“Where’ve you been?” He couldn’t help it. He just HAD to know. Malfoy had been gone the morning he’d woken up in his bed, and he’d been nowhere to be found for three weeks. Harry had visited Malfoy Manor several times, each time feeling both idiodic, and hopeful. Each time the house elves informed him that Draco hadn’t returned yet, he left feeling angrier, and more frustrated.
“France, helping my parents settle in. They want me to join them, but… I’ve got plenty of work to do here, especially if the Malfoy name is going to regain its former respect and glory.” Malfoy answered with a casual shrug. Harry glared at him.
“You’ve been in France for three weeks?” He asked, searching Malfoy’s face.
“Yes. I just said that, Potter.” Malfoy offered him a look that questioned his intelligence, and Harry felt his temper flare.
“You’ve been in France... for three weeks... and you said nothing? And now you show up here, dressed like THAT, without a single, solitary word that you’d left the country, or were coming back?” Harry fumed, and realized his voice had risen, so he lowered it, and forced his angry glare away from Malfoy, lest the reporters decide to write about THAT. “Do you have any idea how it feels to wake up, completely alone, in a house that’s not yours, and for the person you’d fallen asleep next to to just disappear off the face of the planet?”
“Did you miss me, Potter?” Malfoy teased, his face stretching into a mocking grin. Harry snarled, and just barely stopped himself from throttling the sneering blond.
“Hardly!” He snapped, and pushed away from the wall, away from Malfoy. If he wanted to be away from Harry so badly, he could oblige him. It didn’t matter that the very sight of Malfoy, hair combed back, wearing crisp, spotless dress robes, made him want to absolutely ruin that image. It didn’t matter than recalling the afternoon before Malfoy had disappeared had sent his balls aching, and his cock at a half-mast. He tore through the crowd, searching for a familiar face to hide himself next to, hoping Malfoy wouldn’t bother him if he was with friends. So far, he’d only been a threat when alone.
He was satisfied when Malfoy seemed to disappear from the party altogether, and he thought nasty things to himself about him flying back to France, or dropping into a volcano for all he cared. But his eyes kept scanning the room, as if at any moment Draco would reappear, just in the corner of his eye, and give him that smirk that invited mayhem. But he was nowhere to be seen, not in the corners, not in the dancers, and not at the bar. The fancy party seemed to be quickly losing its appeal, spoiled by the brief, but lingering appearance of the blond. Harry excused himself, feeling the conversation starting to grate on his nerves. It had been the same for weeks. He’d be simply enjoying a conversation, or spending time with the Weasleys, and suddenly, he’d remember what he’d done. He’d remember that Malfoy had disappeared. He’d remember that it’d been so many days since he’d felt relaxed. It seemed with every day Malfoy had been away, and every day Harry had been unable to shout at him for disappearing, unable to smell the comforting fragrance that hid in his hair, he’d grown more and more testy, and more likely to snap at his friends.
He slipped into the men’s room, and turned the lock behind him, leaning back against the door, he let his eyes fall closed, and heaved a sigh of frustration. He was wound far too tightly, and Malfoy had been a prick in his patience he hadn’t been accounting for.
“You’re incredibly predictable, you know.”
Harry’s eyes snapped open, and he met a smirking, perfectly arranged face. Malfoy gave nothing but mocking, but Harry’s eyes darted to the row of stalls, terrified someone would be in one, eavesdropping on what he might shout at Malfoy. The last thing he needed was this little fiasco with Malfoy to reach the tabloids.
“We’re alone.” Malfoy caught his glance, and answered the unspoken question. Harry glared at him. He hated that he knew exactly what he’d been thinking. He hated that he was here, waiting, aware that Harry would need to escape the dull Ministry party. Malfoy stood, one hip cocked to the side, his infuriating half-smile plastered on his face, his sharp grey eyes reading Harry as if he were an open book.
‘Are you TRYING to get me to curse you?” Harry threatened, though he couldn’t bring himself to unlock the door and leave. He hated everything about Malfoy just then, but knew, if Malfoy pushed, Harry would find other ways to punish him. He would take every last ounce of the three weeks of building frustration, and shove them down Malfoy’s throat.
“Maybe.” The smirk faded, and left Malfoy looking uncharacteristically somber. “Maybe I came to apologize.”
“What?” Harry felt his building rage fizzle into confusion. He looked around the empty loo once more, and then back to Malfoy. He was almost worried he was imperiused. But he couldn’t imagine why someone would curse Malfoy to do THIS.
“I said, I came to apologize. Are you deaf?” Malfoy snapped, his face morphing into irritation. Harry looked at him suspiciously. His anger was more normal, but the apology was still concerning.
“Go on.” He prompted, crossing his arms. Malfoy swallowed uncomfortably, his cheeks turning pink, and he looked away, staring at the sink as he spoke.
“I’m sorry I left without saying anything. I didn’t think you’d really care.” Malfoy grumbled.
“I don’t care.” Harry confirmed, feeling guilty the moment the words left his lips. Malfoy turned his fiery gaze to him with a look of absolute hatred.
“Fine. Then I’ll go.” He declared, and took a step forward, “You’re blocking the door. Move.”
Harry stayed put. He stared at Malfoy. He didn’t care. He didn’t FANCY Malfoy. But they had shared something he’d never had before. Not even with Ginny. He’d hated that Malfoy had taken that outlet, that connection, away with him. He found his breath coming harsher as Malfoy glared, waiting for him to move. He couldn’t move. Not with Malfoy looking at him like that. It was a look that promised violence. And more than anything, he wanted that violence just then.
“Move, Potter!” Malfoy urged, reaching out to shove him aside. But as his hands landed on Harry, whatever ice had been freezing Harry in place broke apart, and he moved. He grabbed Malfoy, and pushed him back into the wall, pressing his lips to the other’s with a sick desperation. Malfoy was pushing at him, clearly unhappy with the ambush, but he was kissing back, his lips matching Harry’s and after a few moments of shoving at his chest, his arms relaxed, and his hands formed fists, grabbing the front of Harry’s robes. Harry immediately sank a hand into Malfoy’s hair, mussing up his perfectly combed style. Malfoy broke the kiss as his head fell back, his eyes closed in a scowl, his lips parted as he breathed sharply in and out.
“Fuck, Potter. Can’t you just ONCE, have a normal conversation?” He huffed, opening his eyes to match Harry’s angry glare.
“You’re the one acting abnormal!” He declared, shoving Malfoy so they separated, and the blond hit the wall again. Malfoy snarled at the bump, and quickly shoved back, pushing Harry even farther away.
“I’m TRYING to be normal, Potter! I TRIED to apologize, like a NORMAL fucking person! Why do you have to turn EVERYTHING into a fight?” Malfoy raged, glaring, leaning forward slightly, as if he was out of breath. Harry stared at him. He wasn’t sure how to answer. He felt like an alien just then, staring at Malfoy, not knowing what to say, or do. He couldn’t go back to the party like this. He’d feel completely out of place. He didn’t want to go home, though, and wallow in loneliness. But he DEFINITELY couldn’t stay here, in the loo, with Malfoy. He was liable to do more things he’d regret. So he stood in silence, waiting for Malfoy to offer him another question, or another fistfight. Anything.
“What do you want, Potter?” His voice had turned distraught, and he stared at Harry a moment, looking truly lost. “Money? Revenge? Just name it. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you, and this can end.”
Harry stared at him, his stomach dropping through his feet at the words. He didn’t want this to end. Not yet. He gave the question a moment of serious thought, trying to form an answer.
“Someday, I want a family.” Harry answered. “I want kids, and happiness, and to be Head Auror. I don’t want your money. I’m not interested in revenge, or blackmail. I just… I don’t know, Malfoy. This… Whatever this is… It’s…” He shook his head, unable to say any of the words that came to mind. All of them sounded absurd. Malfoy stared at him, silent, waiting for him to finish. Harry stared back, and finally, “It’s new.”
Malfoy kept staring.
“It’s different.” Harry shrugged. “Nice, in an intense, weird way. Ya’know?” Harry felt like an absolute dolt saying it, but Malfoy slowly nodded.
“Yeah.” He agreed, and Harry nearly sighed with relief. At least he wasn’t alone in enjoying their horrible new ‘friendship’. “I mean, you’re still an idiot…”
Harry was surprised by his own short bark of laughter. Malfoy grinned back, clearly more comfortable with insults than the uncomfortable squish the conversation had turned toward. Their eyes locked, and at the same moment, they lurched forward, grabbing one another, gasping into the sudden kiss, and Harry grinned into Malfoy’s mouth as he once more trapped him against the cold wall. Malfoy bit his lip sharply, and Harry didn’t care.
When the loud banging came on the door, they jumped apart, startled, as if they’d been caught by a teacher. They both looked to the door, and then back at each other as the knock came again, followed by a peeved, muffled voice calling for entrance.
“Well, fuck this. I’m going home.” Malfoy announced, slipping around Harry, he grabbed the door. Before he twisted it unlocked, he turned and Harry saw a look on his face. It was a new look, one he hadn’t seen before, but he knew exactly what it meant. He nodded.
“Okay.” Harry agreed aloud. As soon as he responded, Malfoy slid the lock open, and dodged the incoming man, easily disappearing into the crowd beyond.
“Potter! You look a mess! Was Malfoy giving you trouble?” The man was familiar. One of the older Aurors.
“Just a small argument. Nothing I can’t handle.” Harry smiled at his comrade, and exited the restroom, eagerly ducking his way through the crowd. His heart was pounding, and his head was spinning. If he wasn’t completely crazy, Malfoy had just invited him over, in his own weird way. This was entirely new. Having been semi-invited, Harry felt a giddiness filling him. He refused to think of it as a date. It was simply an invitation to continue the weird, new, WHATEVER, they’d been exploring.
He found one of the apparation points in the Atrium, and was gone in an instant, not bothering to say goodbye to any of his friends, not even looking for them before he left. He landed on the steps of Malfoy Manor, and knocked. The same house elf answered the door as when he’d come looking for Malfoy the past three weeks.
“Master Potter! Come in. Master Malfoy is back. Right this way.” She led him through the house, and Harry tried not to stare into the dining room as they passed, clearly remembering the way Malfoy had refused to identify them, the screams he’d heard from Hermione as Bellatrix had carved up her arm.
“What took you so long, Potter?” Malfoy drawled as Harry entered the room he recognized as Draco’s.
“Got lost at the second library.” Harry retorted, poking fun at the massive house. Malfoy smirked.
“If you want, I’ll get you a map.” He teased, his grey eyes sparkling with humor. Harry found he rather liked this playful Malfoy. He was almost charming. Harry swallowed nervously. This was suddenly more complicated. He preferred just manhandling Malfoy until he’d given up. With this, he wasn’t sure how he should proceed. Malfoy had CLEARLY invited him, but… Was he supposed to have a glass of wine, and start kissing him? Was he expected to keep up the conversation for some unknowable period of time, before he could grab the blond, and throw him on the bed?
He rubbed his palms on his robes, removing the nervous sweat. He looked around the room, more for something to do than out of curiosity.
“Nervous, Potter?” Malfoy was smirking, looking for all the world as if he wasn’t bothered by the situation. Harry glared at him, and made a split-second decision. This wasn’t a date. He didn’t have to worry about the pressure of expectations. He was here for one reason, and they both knew it. He stalked toward Malfoy, who held his gaze, unintimidated as Harry approached. Harry grabbed Malfoy by the hair, and applied just enough force to make Malfoy follow his head, which he shoved towards the ground.
“Get on your knees.” Harry ordered, feeling the smooth confidence of being in control. If Malfoy obeyed, good. If not, he’d have fun making him.
“Ahh!” Malfoy gasped in pain as Harry forced him down, but as he sank to his knees, Harry saw the wince turn into a brief smile of enjoyment, before Malfoy masked it with a nasty look. He glared up at Harry, and Harry grinned down. Even if Malfoy tried to hide it, he’d seen it. He LIKED this. That would make this worlds easier.
Harry brought his free hand forward, using his other to keep Malfoy’s head bent back. He pressed his fingers to Malfoy’s lips, and traced them, slowly, deliberately, before pushing his thumb between them. He could feel Malfoy’s tongue. Warm and wet and curling slightly against the digit, despite the glower on Malfoy’s face. He could feel the sharp teeth that scraped against his skin, and he pushed his thumb in and out a few times, biting his own lip as he watched his hand imitate what he had planned.
“Stay.” He ordered, releasing Malfoy, to unbutton his robes. He undid them quickly, and flung them off, he disrobed, shoes and all, until he stood before Malfoy wearing just his shorts. He was honestly surprised that Draco had stayed on his knees, watching silently, though he HAD to know what was coming.
“You wanted to know what I want? Is this clear enough for you?” Harry taunted, standing so his crotch was right in Malfoy’s face. Draco stared at it, seeming mesmerized by the task before him, his nerves suddenly showing as Harry stood, nearly naked before him. Harry wrapped one hand around the back of his head, and used his other to pull the front of his shorts down. His erection sprang eagerly forth, and Harry pulled the soft pink mouth right to it. Malfoy’s hands pushed against his thighs, and he turned his head, refusing to cooperate.
“I want you to suck me off, Draco.” He stated, pressing his excruciatingly hard cock into Malfoy’s cheek, even as he tried to pull away from the contact. “I’ve already done you. It’s only fair you return the favor.” Harry cajoled, letting his head slip far enough back for Malfoy to look up at him, a look of apprehension and ire written across his features. Harry stared down at him, and cocked an eyebrow, deciding to himself that he’d give Malfoy five seconds to comply.
He’d gotten to four in his head when Malfoy squeezed his eyes closed and let Harry pull him forward. Harry felt the soft press of lips on the head of his cock, and groaned.
“Open your mouth.” He encouraged, watching in fascination as Malfoy did as asked, but only just. Harry forced the mouth open wider as he pushed himself in.
“Ohhh, fuck.” He moaned, thrusting his hips gently, savoring every inch of the wet hot mouth that encircled his shaft. Malfoy’s lips had naturally formed an ‘o’, creating gentle suction as Harry pulled out, and made Harry’s eyes roll back in his head. He stared down at the sight of his skin slick with saliva, and disappearing over and over again into Malfoy’s mouth. He could feel the soft tongue, moving as he swallowed, and hesitantly explored the underside of his cock. Malfoy kept his eyes tightly closed, as if refusing to look at what he was doing would make it somehow less embarrassing. But Harry knew that if he looked up, he would see no judgement, or mocking in Harry’s face, only bliss.
Harry pushed himself deeper, hitting the back of Malfoy’s throat, and the hands on his thighs squeezed tighter, warning him that he was toeing the line. Harry hated that line. He pulled Malfoy swiftly into his thrust, getting as far down that sweet throat as he could, and holding it for a heartbeat, before he let go, allowing Malfoy to gag, and gasp, and choke.
“Fuck you, Potter!” Malfoy tried to yell, but it was broken by his breathlessness. Harry smirked down, and grabbed the pale face again, forcing the mouth open, he shoved his cock back inside, and deep into Malfoy’s throat. He held it, thrusting gently, taking pleasure in the way Malfoy gagged on him, and struggled to be let loose, but still, in essence, cooperating. He wasn’t daring to bite down, or really struggle to escape. He could have stood, he could have used his fists to be free, but instead, he merely pushed, and wiggled, and when Harry let him up for air, he bent over, coughing, eyes watering, saliva dripping down his mouth.
Harry loved the sight of him so visibly corrupted. When he was sure Malfoy had caught enough of his breath, he pulled him in again, fucking his throat eagerly.
“Fuck that’s good. I could cum right down your throat like this.” Harry announced, watching Malfoy’s eyes go wide in fear. He wasn’t sure if it was fear of being so far degraded, or fear of choking to death, but Harry took pity. He pulled his cock free before he could reach that point, and grabbed Malfoy, one hand at the back of his head, the other gripping the front of his neck, choking him slightly as he pulled him roughly to his feet. One hard shove and Malfoy stumbled back, the back of his knees hit the edge of his bed, and he fell, sprawling out with a soft whump onto the thick blanket. Harry followed close behind, climbing on top of him, he attacked Malfoy’s mouth, kissing that pleasing, magnificent mouth before Malfoy could even catch his breath. He began yanking impatiently at Malfoy’s crisp, clean robes, tearing buttons open, and pushing fabric free of Malfoy’s body. He looked down, admiring the half-clothed, thoroughly dishevelled look of the blond. THIS was what he wanted, right now. He wanted to make Malfoy look so tumbled that he wouldn’t be able to escape into a crowd. He wanted to watch him become more and more corrupted by Harry’s need for him, until he couldn’t see the look on his face from staring too hard at the beautiful form.
Soft white skin showed through dark robes, and Harry bent to it, kissing and licking his way from Malfoy’s navel back to his mouth. He shoved his tongue into the wet cavern as he pulled the rest of Malfoy’s robes off, tossing them to the floor. When there was finally not a single stitch of clothing between them, he grabbed Malfoy’s hips, and easily rolled him over, pushing him onto his front. Malfoy grunted in protest, his hands moving to the bed, elbows up as if he was going to push himself upright, but Harry grabbed his shoulder, keeping him pressed down. Harry spat onto his hand, and smeared the spit between Malfoy’s cheeks. He rubbed what was left onto his dick, and pressed forward. He teased the entrance with his tip, pressing forward just enough to let Malfoy know he was there, watching Malfoy’s reaction. His eyes were closed tight again, his hands gripping the bed, and Harry leaned down, pressing his lips to Malfoy’s ear.
“Do you want it to hurt?” He asked crudely, willing to make things easy, in light of Malfoy’s cooperation.
“Fuck you!” Malfoy snapped, hearing only mocking, and Harry growled, biting at Malfoy’s neck, he pushed just a little farther in.
“If you don’t say no, I’m going to start fucking you. If you want me to try to make it easier, you have to tell me, now, Malfoy.” Harry warned, trying to make it clear that he wasn’t just teasing, or talking dirty.
“Fuck…” Malfoy groaned, looking absolutely torn. Harry took that as his answer, and pushed forward, meeting resistance as Malfoy tensed. He forced himself forward, past the tight muscles, until his entire length was inside the blond. When he was fully sheathed, he did something he’d never done before. He paused.
He sat up a bit, looking down at their joined bodies, examining the way Malfoy’s pale cheeks cradled him. He grabbed one, and spread it open, watching as he slowly thrust in and out. It was mesmerising, watching himself fuck Malfoy, and he drank in the sight of it. The tight hold barely accommodating him. The stretch of pale, muscular back. The messy platinum hair wildly framing the flushed, cringing face. Long, slender fingers clutched at the blanket. He didn’t feel too bad for causing Malfoy pain. He knew he could take it, and suspected that he even got off on it. He knew that when it hurt, he could pretend he wasn’t participating. That it somehow absolved him of their sin.
Harry let another dribble of saliva join the friction, easing his movements. Malfoy groaned quietly, unsettled by the sudden cool drips, but unwilling to voice any real words. Harry smirked, and leaned back over him, pressing his body against Malfoy’s, he wrapped one arm around his shoulders, in an imitation of a hug, keeping Malfoy just where he wanted him as he pounded away.
“I always forget how fucking tight you are.” Harry growled, purely to make Malfoy flush darker. It worked, and he earned an eye cracked open, glaring up at him.
“I- ah- always forget -ahn- how much of a -haa- prick you are.” Malfoy retorted, though his angry response was ruined by his gasping. Harry wasn’t entirely convinced they were gasps of pain, either. It was rather strange, actually speaking to Malfoy as he fucked him. Another new experience, and one he was finding he rather enjoyed. He pressed his lips to Malfoy’s shoulder, kissing a small trail to his spine. He felt Malfoy shiver against the sensation, saw the gooseflesh that popped up, and he grinned. Malfoy was definitely enjoying this.
“Call me a prick again, Malfoy.” Harry dared, squeezing one of the slender shoulders in warning. Malfoy took the words to heart, not at all afraid of Harry’s ambiguous threat.
“You’re a fucking arsehole, Potter! I don’t know HOW none of your friends sees it, but- AH!- any worse, and -nnn- and you’d- ahhhfuck!” Malfoy never finished his sentence, his words lost to the punishment. Harry had yanked his head back by his hair, forcing his back to arch, as he slammed heedlessly into the narrow hips. When his words finally seemed to be out of reach, Harry shoved his face into the bed, and raked his nails down Malfoy’s spine, leaving dark red welts behind. Malfoy groaned, and Harry was glad to see him practically drooling into the mattress at the onslaught. It was a truly beautiful sight, the usually pristine and put-together Malfoy in a drooling heap of moaning, tousled pleasure. The view of Malfoy beneath him was enough to make his balls tighten, and he slowed, not wanting to finish too early. He wanted to draw out this perfect, pleasured moment as long as possible.
Malfoy, however seemed to have other ideas.
"Harder…" the word was nearly lost in the moan it came on, but Harry had heard it. He groaned, unable to deny the sound of Malfoy begging. He wrapped his fingers around Malfoy s throat and squeezed, letting his hips slam into the blond with harsh, fast thrusts. He grabbed Malfoy's hip, and forced him to lift his ass into Harry's rough fucking. Malfoy's voice was only slightly choked by Harry's hand, and the whole of it all, the sound of him moaning, the feel of him bucking back into Harry, the sight of him desperate and out of control, hit Harry like rapid fire, one after the other. He wrapped his arm around Malfoy's hip, and began stroking the hard cock he found, pleasuring Malfoy, needing him to finish, fast, as he came. He didn't dare stop, even as he emptied his seed into Malfoy, until he felt the soft shuddering of the blond, and his hand was slicked in cum.
They stilled, and Malfoy collapsed to the bed as Harry released him. Harry fell on top of him, trying to catch his breath.
"Get off…" Malfoy's breathless demand sent a sharp stab of disappointment through Harry's gut. He'd hadn't even realized it until he rolled off of Malfoy, but he'd hoped they were past that taciturn, embarrassed escape.
"You're heavy as shit, Potter. Been gaining weight?" Malfoy taunted, turning a rather ridiculous grin to the brunet. Harry felt his stomach flip. Was he not expected to leave then?
"It's muscle, you git." He replied, letting himself collapse into the pillows. Malfoy chuckled, his eyes falling closed, and the stupid smile still plastered on his face. Harry smiled softly at the sight. This was a nice change from the usual humiliation that overtook him afterward. Malfoy still looked a little flushed with embarrassment, but he wasn't leaving. Harry felt a bizarre urge to touch him, to brush the sweat-dampened hair from his face, and trace the curve of his shoulder. He clenched his fingers into fist, instead, and traced the figure with his eyes. His pale skin was flushed from sex, he looked soft, relaxed, and… happy. Harry felt a similar warm gooeyness in his body. It made him feel satisfied, and accomplished.
"Stop staring at me. It's weird." Malfoy huffed, though his smile didn't fade. Harry grinned down at him.
"Sorry. You just look… thoroughly fucked. Makes a man feel proud, seeing he's done that." Harry commented. Malfoy twisted his hand into a rude gesture, and Harry chuckled. He reached out, and brushed the hair from Malfoy's brow, taking a chance on the calm mood that seemed to permeate the whole bed.
"Mm." Was all the reply he got. He wasn't sure if it was an irritated 'mm', or a pleased 'mm'. He pulled his hand back, and decided to combat the chill that was creeping over his sweaty skin by fighting his way under the blankets.
"Mmm." Malfoy groaned in response to the movement. Harry grinned, and yanked at the covers, jostling the pale body worse, and earning a growl, and glare.
Harry tossed the freed silks and duvet over the sleepy, irate blond. As they settled over his body, Malfoy's eyes closed, and his glare soffented into a scowl.
"Mh." He huffed. Harry had no idea how to translate that, either.
"You're welcome." He replied sarcastically, making up his own meaning for the noise. He let his hand fall heavily onto Malfoy's covered back, and closed his eyes. It was eerily close to a cuddle, but it felt like just the thing after such exertion. Malfoy didn't grunt at the touch, and didn't move to shake him off, so Harry let a small, victorious smile grace his lips as he felt the tidal wave of drowsiness crash into him, and pull him under.

Harry woke from the dream of that memory in a foul mood. He knew going to Malfoy Manor had been a terrible idea. He went through the motions of getting ready for work, and spent the morning nursing a stress-induced headache. He wished, for a split second, that some dark wizard would appear, to take his mind off the dark, tumbling thoughts that seemed to consume him.
Lunch brought a much needed reprieve in the form of a note from Hermione, asking him to watch Rose for a few hours after work. She mentioned she'd already spoken with Ginny that morning, so she was planning on staying at practice later. He wrote back promptly, agreeing to babysit, not even bothering to ask why they needed a babysitter. He was eager for the distraction from his own mind.
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