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Thirst	By : Seraphix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4885 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Thirst
- 1
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to JK Rowling.

~~~

Thirst

Harry had been thirsty most of his life. When he was younger he thirsted to be out of the cupboard, to have a proper family of his own, to not have to do chores or to be sat on by Dudley. He craved for a drip of affection, a short stream of love, and perhaps half a glass of friendship, but he was always parched.

The Dursleys liked to make him work in the garden on days when the weather was extreme, and it meant when the sun was burning hot, or the wind was howling the tiling off the roof, or when the rain was overflowing from the gutters. On the first kind of days, Harry would lick the droplets of sweat off his skin so that his mouth wouldn�t be so dry. On the second kind of days, Harry would keep his mouth firmly shut, squint his eyes and cover up his nose to prevent the moving air currents from removing any excess fluids from his body. It was the third kind of days which Harry loved the most. The Dursleys, knowing that the human body could adapt and change, limited the amount of water Harry was allowed to drink daily. But on rainy days, Harry would just wear his shorts and t-shirt, and tried to turn his face up to the grey skies as often as possible. He parted his lips and let the drops of rain slip into his mouth, quenching his thirst. He opened his arms to let the rain fall onto his skin, imagining that it was the patter of affection he felt.

Yet he would step out from the rain, and he would be parched and thirsty again.

When Harry came to Hogwarts, he started craving for a different kind of water. He played Quidditch to quench his thirst for victory, crammed and worked, even unconsciously, for the approval of his professors, whether they liked him or not. He broke rules to get rid of the dryness that an ordered life with the Dursleys had imprinted on him, but nothing worked. These only helped his mouth feel moist. In fact, many of his close friends thought that Harry was suffering from insomnia as they hear him leaving the dorm every night for walks, invisible ones around the castle. In reality, he looked for ways to cure his little ailment. He didn't sleep, couldn't sleep.

It really is difficult to try and fall asleep when you spend more than half the night refilling the jug and drinking from it, then getting up and repeating the routine for the other half of the night.

He quit Quidditch this year, because he realized how much water he lost as he flew through the air while gasping for his breath. He also spoke less and less because it made his mouth dry.

Harry was open to suggestions, and since he wasn�t open to anyone, he accepted any suggestions that his brain threw at him. Some nights he found himself filling the bath in the prefect�s bathroom with pure, distilled water and soaking in it, hoping that the molecules would hydrate his body through diffusion; on other nights the bathe was filled with wine, champagne, and once, hot chocolate. Sometimes he�d scout the closets in the lesser known corridors in the school to look for the random supply of booze in them. So far, Harry has found Filch�s stash of Firewhiskey, McGonagall�s sherry, Dumbledore�s Bailey�s Irish Cream, and Snape�s disgusting taste in liquor as expressed by his stash of cherry brandy.

He had also found out that alcohol quenched his thirst better than water contrary to popular belief, because it dulled his senses and his inhibitions, allowing him to imagine that he was, in fact, full to the brim with water.

By his sixth year, Harry had run out of commercial cures to use, and started coming up with his own creations. He started off with the little things, like old wives tales, adding salt to water, salt to star fruit juice, honey to watermelon juice, orange juice to cider. Then he turned to pub drinks. Firewhiskey to Coke, lacing tomato juice with gin, lemonade with tequila.

And then Harry got creative.

He distilled a 98% pure alcohol in the Potions lab and started mixing it with his breakfast tea in the mornings, the recipe being two parts of his homebrew to one part of tea. Then there was stealing kerosene from Hagrid's supplies. The firewater was there as part of the Blast-Ended Skrewts' diet. He tried kerosene and rum. It tasted downright horrid, but he had forced it down nevertheless. It had felt like something was burning through his alimentary track, and it really didn�t help that it was the first drink he tried that night, which resulted in him being completely sober when he swallowed the vile mixture and taking in the full impact of how disgusting and uncomfortable drinking rubbish like that.

No pain, no gain right?

The morning after, a fifth year prefect on his morning rounds tripped over an invisible lump in the entrance of the great hall and went screaming in fright, waking up and causing panic amongst the residents of Hogwarts. Of course, Dumbledore was the first to find the unconscious Harry Potter under the invisibility cloak, and levitated him off to the infirmary, to be placed under Madam Pomfrey's care.

It might be interesting to note that the prefect who tripped over Harry went on to fall down a second time right at Filch's feet in his screaming frenzy. Unfortunately, the old caretaker had just woken up and was wearing only a grey bathrobe. The student had looked up, and later on found himself in the infirmary on the bed across the Boy Who Lived, with absolutely no memory of anything that happened after he had gone to bed the previous night.

Opposite him, Harry woke up a little while later. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments, before making sure that he was still alive. He was still breathing, his limbs were all movable, and though a little on the churning side, his stomach felt fully functional.

And of course, the thirst was still there.

He didn�t bother to wait for Madam Pomfrey to come and check on him. He had simply slipped out of the bed and put on his shoes, completely ignored the prefect opposite him and simply walked back to his bedroom. On checking his watch, he realized that he had been out for a full twenty four hours, so he started another night�s search of cures for his thirst. Kerosene and rum had been the first of many times that Harry had woken up after consuming his own strange concoctions. There were many other incidences that followed, like when he had gotten his hands on some cocaine from a Hufflepuffs Muggleborn, and he had mixed it with some Wolfsbane potion he nicked from Lupin�s rooms and downed it, or when he had had brandy on the rocks, using the clubbing drug �ice� as his rocks. After the first time, Madam Pomfrey always stayed by his bedside so that he wouldn�t run away after waking up, but none of the yelling, sad eyes, or disappointment that she threw at him stop his endeavors to quench his thirst.

It�s not like he hadn�t asked for help. Harry could remember telling his best friends that he was thirsty, but all they did was tell him to drink water. Hermione had once made him a anti-hallucinatory potion and tried to pass it off as a dehydration potion, then tried to defend herself by saying that his problem was psychological when Neville pointed out that anti-hallucinatory potions were the only kind that kept changing color. By the start of the sixth year, they felt that his claims to consistent thirst was simply a way to attract attention, an excuse for not killing Voldemort, and in one of his fits, Ron had called it �a way to take Hermione away from him�. Harry had stopped asking for help that day, and walked out of the common room. He hadn�t done so in a huff, it was just quiet walking off. He hasn�t talked to them since then either.

***

Harry laid face down on the jetty that extended out to the middle of the lake before he squirmed forward such that the entire upper half of his body is hung over the wooden platform�s end. He lowered his mouth to the cool water and started to drink. It was one of those nights when Harry didn�t feel like thinking. He simply went down to the largest source of water in the entire school compound and drank his fill. No one bothered him here, even though once in a while Fang came over to use his back as a pillow. Tonight, though, things went a little differently.

Harry heard the approaching footsteps, but he didn�t turn back. It was simple, if the person was a friend, a true one, he would understand why Harry was doing what he was. On the other hand, if the person was hostile, he could simple kill Harry and Harry wouldn�t have to bother about his thirst anymore. And for that matter, just before he died, Harry wanted to drink his fill, which meant ignoring anyone who could possibly tear him away from the cool, slightly muddy tasting water. There was also the occasional algae sifting past his teeth, but that could be easily dealt with a toothbrush later on. It�s one of those nights you heard about in cheesy romantic novels, clear night sky with a big, bright moon illuminating the place, casting shadows for shadowy deeds, making the lake glow with an almost Fay light in its beams. But it�s not like Harry notices any of this, because he�s more fixated by the liquid going into his mouth.

A figure sat itself on the edge of the jetty with its legs dangling over the edge, bare feet just dipping in to water. Harry noticed this out of the corner of his eye, but didn�t say anything as he turned his attention back to his drinking.

Suck, drink, slurp, sip, gulp, quaff.

"Thirsty, Potter?" came the quiet voice.

A slight bob of a dark head in and out of the water indicated an answer, but no more words passed between the two boys. At some point of time in the middle of the night Harry looked up, and he noticed how ethereal the other boy looked in the moonlight. It was the real deal, with the shimmer and glow. And for that moment, part of Harry's thirst is quenched. Later on, Harry mused that seeing Draco in the moonlight may well have quenched his thirst for beauty. He also went on to wonder if his thirst would come back worse than ever after the sight left, so he ducked his head back into the water and started gulping at it like it was air. They stayed there together, neither sleeping nor talking, just together, until the morning light came up over the castle, when Harry simply got up, wiped his lips on his sleeve, and feeling completely unsatisfied, made his way back to the castle with Draco Malfoy.

***

Harry has not been talking to his best friends, or maybe he has not been talking to anyone, period. But as it has been acknowledged, talking less simply lets you listen more, and listening more meant that you could learn more. He has listened to Professor Snape in Potions class, and his Potions grade has shot up. He listens to McGonagall, and just yesterday, he managed to master a Transfiguration spell even before Hermione did.

He hears his house people talk about changes in Malfoy, about how he doesn�t taunt Muggleborns anymore, how he doesn�t pick fights or criticize people from other houses anymore. He doesn�t flaunt his status as a Death Eater, and when Ron had tried to goad him into a fight, he had just stared at him and walked away. Harry has also heard from the other houses, that Draco had revaluated his alliances in the past year, and came to the conclusion that he wasn�t sticking around to help Voldemort out. Apparently that hadn�t been because of some close friend or relative of his dying from Cruciatus under Voldemort�s wand, but because he had been reading up on Muggles one of his holidays. Initially, his father had given him the book to make him loathe the other �species�, but all it had done, apparently, was make him see them as humans.

Talking less also encourages one to watch more. Like in the past few months, Harry has noticed that Hagrid was truly an inept teacher, Ron is likely to turn out to be a henpecked husband, Neville was still occasionally releasing bouts of uncontrolled magic, and that Malfoy was a much better potions student than Hermione. He has also learnt that Slytherins had excellent results not because Snape favored them, but because they helped each other out. He has seen Malfoy tutoring a first year in Potions, Parkinson coaching a fourth year in DADA, and Crabbe and Goyle taking time out to train new beaters for the team.

Therefore, after last night, Harry has decided to sit himself next to the blonde in Potion.

***

Harry walked purposefully towards the bench where Draco was sitting. The blonde looked at him and nodded slightly as a form of greeting and returned to his work.

The lesson passed on uneventfully, with Draco murmuring and explaining the process of making the potion as well as the ingredients. Harry, on his part, did what he does best, and listened attentively, and found that he potions wasn't really that difficult. At the same time, Harry learned how to multitask, admiring the view of those grey eyes and blonde hair through the mist in the dungeon classroom. He looked so much such that by the end of the lesson, he almost felt his thirst ebb away. But as they always say, good things never last long. When Snape announce the end of the lesson and in his usual sneering voice asked for their potions, Harry�s mouth started to dry itself up.

Then the surprise came.

Draco walked out of the classroom just before Harry, sidling behind Harry�s seat. Before he left Harry�s side though, he pressed a small bottle into Harry�s hand before walking off. Without even looking, Harry tucked the bottle into the pocket of his robes, picked up his bag and strode out of the classroom, headed for his next class Divination, where Trelawney predicts that he would be drowned in the weeks to come.

***

When night fell, Harry took the bottle out and examined the tag tied around the neck of the bottle briefly.

Potter,

Hope this helps.

Malfoy

Harry gulped the contents of the bottle, and in that split second, he felt like he had been saved from his thirst. He curled up under his blankets, not wanting to miss this chance of falling asleep after being kept from rest for such a long time by his thirst. It was tiring, battling the need to drink all the time while having to deal with school work and an annoying Dark Lord at the same time. It wasn�t long before his eyes were shut, and a soft snore came through his lips.

That night, Harry slept well. He only had to wake up twice to get a quick drink of water before he made it through the night.

***

Quidditch season had started, and in the first match, Slytherin played Ravenclaw. The Slytherins had won easily with a score of 250 to 20. The Slytherin seeker had gloated by making a victory lap around the Quidditch pitch, an action which pretty much drove Cho Chang over the extreme end. She had uttered a battle cry that was reminiscent of medieval England, grabbed her team�s beater�s bat and went charging straight at Draco. Draco, being brought up in a Pureblood family to be the perfect gentleman, tried to dodge her as "a man never hits a woman", resulting in him landing a good hit from Cho across the side of his head and falling sixty feet through the air.

The next two weeks found a somber Harry Potter sitting in the infirmary talking to a blonde in a state of comatose, asking him about Potions and discussing Quidditch, as well as anything and everything under the sun. This earned Harry glares from the Gryffindors, strange hexes from the Slytherins and intellectual name calling from the Ravenclaws. The Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, patted him on the back and praised him for his concern for his fellow schoolmate. Altogether, it was nothing that Harry couldn�t handle, and spending time with the prone figure of Draco in the infirmary and shielding himself from attacks just became part of his everyday routine, together with refilling the pitcher next to Draco's bed for himself to drink as he did his work in the infirmary. After the first week, the cold stares continued, but most people just ignored him.

The nurse in the infirmary, however, watched him closely, and realized that ever since Draco came into the place, Harry had not turned up as a patient once. It was almost as if the dark haired boy took it as his responsibility to stay healthy and alive so that he could take care of the blonde, to coax him out of his current state. So Madam Pomfrey allowed him to stay as long as he liked, except that she insisted he returned to his own bed after curfew.

Not like she ever said anything when he sneaked out again.

The Saturday after the fortnight, Harry was seen on the jetty drinking from the lake again. It was about nine in the evening, and Madam Pomfrey had chased him out of the room more than twelve hours ago on account that she had to check on her patient's condition. He had complied to her request and returned to his dorm to finish up his Potions and Charms essay, but only when she agreed to let him know about the details of Draco's condition as soon as she was done.

Suck, drink, slurp, sip, gulp, quaff.

Familiar footsteps sounded behind him as he continued to drink, and a pair of bare feet swung into view at the corner of his eyes.

"Thirsty, Harry?"

Harry raised himself up on his forearms and looked at the Slytherin with a critical eye. The blonde waif looked a lot thinner than he did the last time that they had been on the jetty, and there was a faraway look in his eyes as he looked in the distance. But to Harry, he looked no less beautiful on this cloudy night, sitting next to him in his cotton pajamas and a small woolen blanket wrapped around his thin shoulders. There was no moonlight to illuminate him, nothing to make his cheekbones higher than usual, or make his hair seem brighter. But for Harry, the person beside him was someone who cared enough to make a potion for him even without him having to ask for it and come out in the middle of the night to look for him�

"Aren�t you supposed to be resting?"

"I am," he said without turning to look at the other boy.

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, before he leaned over and dipped his head into the lake and took a deep swig of water. Then he shifted himself and sat up properly next to Draco, and they stayed in that position in silence until the blonde broke the ice.

"I heard you, you know?" he murmured, voice shaking slightly as he shivered in the cold night air. "Every word. And I just had to come back."

The shiver registered itself in Harry's parched conscious, so he moved such that he was almost behind Draco, slipped his arms below the blonde's and wrapped them around his torso, pulling the thin figure into his embrace and against his body. If Draco was surprised, he certainly didn't show it as he simply relaxed into Harry�s arms. Even through the smell of antiseptic that the infirmary had left on him, Harry can still smell the scent of Draco. He smelt like brownies and coffee, the pleasant smells one gets when you walk into Starbucks.

Later on, when Draco falls asleep, Harry carries him back to the infirmary where he gently places Draco on the bed, and joins him under the covers soon after removing his robes.

***

"What the fuck do you think you're doing Harry?! The rumors are flying all over school that you and Malfoy are... are..."

Harry stared at the red head, allowing the angry tirade, or at least he believed that he allowed the angry tirade, to wash straight over his head. But truth was, it affected him more than he would admit since the verbal attack came from his best friend of many years. Yet, he had been wearing his iron mask for years now, and it was simply too easy to slip into his shield of indifference.

"What does it mean to you if we are, Weasley?"

This earned him a sharp slap from Hermione, who started yelling at him about his treatment of his friends, as well as question his house loyalty. Harry didn't bother with the whole hurt look. The slap had came as a shock, but there wasn't a chance in hell that he would let Hermione know that. So he waited until she had to stop to catch her breath before he spoke.

"You done?" his tone was icy enough to form a ripple of frost along the warm common room, and certainly more than enough to freeze Hermione in her tirade. "Good. It's my turn then."

"Ever wondered why I turn to him? Does Ron know where I go every night? Does anyone ask me why I'm in the infirmary so often? Does anyone ask why I quit Quidditch?" his voice remained soft, but now the cold voice got increasingly cutting. "Did any of you give a flying fuck when I stopped talking to you? Or did you all just assume that it was it was the attention seeking cry of a forgotten diva?"

"You aren't being fair, Harry," Hermione retorted, snapping out of her trance. "You never told us anything!"

"Never? Hermione?" he let out a dry laugh. "If I recall correctly, you thought I was hallucinating, Ron said I was trying to come between the two of you. Don't ever," Harry's voice lowered dangerously, "question my choice of friends. The only mistake I�ve ever made in that area would be choosing the two of you to be my best friends. You know, Granger, I don�t understand it myself. The three of us�we�ve gone through so much together," his tone somewhat wistful. "But somewhere along the way I got dropped, and there was no more trio."

"So I suggest that the two of you keep your noises out of my business and let me be."

***

Harry could only imagine what the scene between the three of them had looked like when he walked off and turned into a corner which, either fortunately or unfortunately, led towards the dungeons. He held his head high as he spun away from his two gaping friends, but as he entered the quiet corridor, his façade crumbled and he leaned against the cold stone wall and slid down to sit on the floor. Tears ran down his as his throat got drier and drier, causing him to make choking sounds as he struggled to swallow his sobs into his dry throat.

"Potter?" a sneering female voice asked.

"Go on, Pansy. I'll take care of this," said an equally scorning male voice.

There was the soft rustle of clothing as Harry, with his face buried in his hands, could only presume that Pansy had left the scene. A shadow fell onto him, as he looked up into the silver grey eyes which were filled with concern.

"Harry? What happened?" the tone changed to one of concern.

Harry looked into the warm eyes, and suddenly, looking at Draco did nothing to help his condition. He shot up to his feet suddenly, shocking Draco who fell back on his haunches from where he stooped. He stared at the figure on the floor with bloodshot eyes, his face streaked with dried tear tracks. Then he bent over and in one swift movement wrapped his hands around Draco�s wrists and pulled him out, then violently pushing him into the wall opposite them in the narrow corridor before rasping out,

"So thirsty..."

He pressed his lips against the warm ones in front of him almost as though he was a starved man devouring his first meal for months. He swept his lips over unmoving ones, trying to coax them into responding to his demanding assault. The needy movements changed to little nips and bites on the fragile skin, before a bold sweep across the lush lower lip. Draco gasped at the sensuality of the action, and in doing so, granted Harry entrance to his mouth. He didn't push Harry away, but neither did he reciprocate the kiss. It appeared that the blonde was simply contented to let Harry do want he wanted.

Drink his fill.

Suck, drink, slurp, sip, gulp, quaff.

But for Harry, kissing Draco only served to help his problem the slightest bit, and no amount of licking, niping or coaxing made the Malfoy heir respond. In his frustration, he bit down hard on Draco's lip, swallowing the soft yelp that the other boy emitted due to the pain. Harry then clamped down over the wound and sucked. Soon after, the coppery taste of blood flooded Harry's mouth, causing him to stumble back in shock as the taste woke him up from the trance he had sunken into when his tears had first fallen. He stared at the blonde in disbelief, thoughts of why he hadn't been pushed away running through his head.

"Oh god oh god... I'm so sorry Draco, I don't know what came over me. I was just so thirsty and you were there and I don�t know why but somehow I thought that it would� I mean being with you it was always better and just now Ron and Hermione they were yelling and I was furious and I started crying and I didn�t mean� I didn�t mean to� I�m sorry I�m sorry I�m sorry�"

Draco raised a hand to wipe the blood that was trickling down his chin, before he placed his hands on Harry�s shoulders, which were shaking in a combination of fear and confusion, as the Gryffindor kept apologizing over and over again. He shook the boy, causing him to look up with his mouth hanging open midway through a �I�m sorry�.

"Do you feel better then?"

"What?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"Do you feel less parched after you kissed me?"

Harry looked down at his own feet for a moment, as though he was thinking about Draco�s question and considering the state of his own physical well being at the moment. He was surprised to find his mouth wet, his head for once not dizzy from dehydration, just light headed from the heat of the kiss, and the cravings to drink gone from his mind. It was then when he nodded, almost shyly, without raising his eyes to tell Draco that he was indeed feeling better.

"That�s okay then," said the blonde, "I just needed to hear that."

Wiping at his bloodied lip one last time, Draco cupped Harry's chin and pulled his face upwards, forcing the green eyes to look into his own, then dipping his head to kiss the boy in the sweetest moment. It had none of the fervor and desperation in their previous kiss, but it was sweet, sweet, sweet, like water at the end of the worlds in the mouth of a dying man. In his surprise, it was quite a while before the idea of returning the kiss entered his head like a lamp light through the fog. By then, the warm lips had already left his as Draco pulled back and reached down to straighten out Harry�s robes for him as well as sweep Harry�s unkempt locks into a neater mess.

"Don�t deal with it alone next time. Just come to me, alright?"

That day, Harry didn�t have to drink another sip of water.

***

The next few weeks passed easily, with Harry pulling Draco in random classrooms whenever they happened to meet in the corridor. His thirst was no longer much of a problem, even though sometimes he still felt compelled to go down to the lake and drink just for old time's sake. Harry found himself smiling more and talking more, even though it was only in front of the blonde. To his housemates, he was the portrait of a stoic, cold bastard who betrayed his house for his lust. It wasn�t as if Harry cared what they thought of him. The world fell simply into two people. There was Draco, then there was everyone else who simply seemed to melt into one another, and appear as the same person.

Things were not always well between Harry and Draco though. While it was horribly out of character of the blonde to help him, Harry found that he only had to do a little rummaging through his memory banks to recall points about Draco's behavior towards him, and why Draco seemed to be the cure for his ailment. They had always been obsessed with each other from the moment they met, and Harry remembered that his thirst had gotten worse when the Slytherin started to ignore everyone just after changing sides. He reasoned that Draco was with him because he had missed their contact as well, and all the nagging voices in his head that told him that that was an awful reason were pushed right out of mind.

But when Harry found himself dragging the Slytherin into the broom closet in the charms corridor for their third snog of the day, he knew that it was something more. He knew how much their strange make out relationship meant to him when Seamus Finnegan opened the door and saw the two of them devouring each other, and all he did was separate himself from Draco long enough to cast a full body bind on Seamus before closing the door again. He had almost wanted to Oblivate the Gryffindor, but Draco had stopped him, saying that it could permanently damage his memory.

And Harry had actually obeyed him.

It was a wise man who said that there was a fine line between love and hate.

The Boy Who Lived had grown up to be The Boy Who Loved.

***

Harry stood at the foot of his bed, staring with wide eyes at the sight in front of him. The red draping that once adorned his large four poster bed had been ripped beyond repair, while the comfortable white cotton sheets were stained with thick, acrylic paint in black, green and red. Rude words and even ruder pictures covered the sheets, and someone had stolen a Slytherin Quidditch robe and used it as the centre piece.

For a moment, Harry couldn't see the significance of the green Quidditch robe. Shouldn't they slash my Quidditch robe if they wanted to piss me off? Snapping out of his stupor, he reached for the robe, and with a thoughtful look on his face, he raised the robe and pressed it against his chin as he started to think of the possible meanings of the ripped up robe. Without noticing what he was doing, he buried his nose into the robe as though he was looking for some sort of comfort, just like when he nuzzled his face into Draco's robes after kissing him. The robe smelt of brownies and coffee, a familiar smell.

Draco's smell.

Harry saw red, and it was not because of the decor of the room. He was the one who instigated things with Draco all the time, and he was the one who needed Draco. Didn't they realize how much being with Draco was doing for him? For starters, he has slept better since they had commenced their make out sessions than he had ever before. He never pried into Harry's private life, or anything that Harry didn't tell him. Honest to God, Harry was guilty of not talking to Draco. Their meetings usually went like, kiss, whimper, kiss, moan, kiss, whine, part, a small smile form each side and a contented sigh later on. But Draco knew. Draco always knew. Like he knew not to say anything when they were first at the jetty. Like he knew where to find Harry when he came out of the infirmary. Or more recently, when to plunder Harry's mouth and when to lean back into the wall meekly and let Harry explore his, almost viciously at times.

The bottom line was, Draco ALWAYS knew.

It�s easy to know what Harry needed. Everyone does. But the key here was that Draco knew what Harry WANTED. He knew when to give and when to take, he knew when to take the initiative and when to step down. And then Harry saw something else under where the robe was.

His family album from Hagrid. All torn up and the pictures a charred pile of ashes.

And that, was why Harry saw red.

He could vaguely hear sniggering behind him, and at the back of his head, feel the hot stares and pointing fingers, together with the mocking laughter. They were laughing at him, oh yes, at his obviously stunned rigid posture, at his foolishness on thinking that he could take on the entire Gryffindor house and not face the consequences, at his sheer stupidity in being with a Slytherin and for binding a Gryffindor over a make out session with the Slytherin in question.

But they couldn't see his face, so they couldn't see his anger.

Harry wasn't one of those people others associated with being violent. He got angry, he yelled, he pouted and he moped, but Hermione was the one to slap Draco in their third year, and Ron was the one to split Zabini's lip after Quidditch last year. Harry had went on search for more thirst quenchers. But Harry had something else. He had power. Ron grew up in a Wizarding household, but he could never get away from his brothers; Hermione had good results, but she didn't have enough raw power to fly a broom. Hers simply came from knowledge. But Harry, the saviour of the Wizarding World, had more magic in him than either of them. It wasn't about surviving a drop by your Uncle Algie and bouncing down half the bloody road on your head. It was about being out of the way enough not to let him drop you in the first place; or commanding such a burst of magic that Uncle Algie gets cursed to Hell and back.

So while Ron and company couldn't see the aura of anger around him, they were around to see the effects.

It started small, with all the people at the doorway being hit by a wave of silence, as sound seemed to implode in the room. Then the four poster beds started to tremble, and the surface of the full length mirror opposite Dean's bed started to form cracks. Not the kind of haphazard cracks in disaster film, but nicely defined ones, forming the picture of a glass sword, reminiscent of the one that Harry pulled out of the sorting hat in his second year. The sword then detached itself from the mirror, and commenced methodically cutting through sheet after sheet, mattress after mattress, curtain after curtain, bedpost after bedpost, yet still leaving the illusion of the of untouched, standing beds. The sword then fixed itself back into the mirror, and the others stared in horror at it.

The silence lasted for a second longer, then sound came rushing back in as the beds came crumbling down, leaving only Harry's standing. A new silence reigned, as the sniggering and smirking arrogance came abruptly to a halt.

Harry liked this kind of silence, but his anger was not quite done yet. Behind the boys that were gaping open mouth, Hermione stood on her toes, eyes staring wide, her lips moving to form words but her vocal chords were chosing not to cooperate. Her gaze was fixed on the mirror, the silver dagger shape cracking together with the rest of the silver surface. It was a quiet process as the glass appeared to be ground to fine bits without the presence of a mortar and pound. The glittering dust hovered in the air in front of the now-empty mirror frame. Then they flew apart, and moments later, Ron's face contorted in pain as Hermione's voice came back and she started to scream. There was a slender, shiny noose around Ron's neck and it was tightening by the second, but when he reached up with his fingers to loosen the rope, they came away bloody, with glass splints in their tips. Around his neck, the noose turned a wet shade of red as skin broke. But the Weasely couldn't scream. His legs wobbled and gave way, and on his knees, he shuffled forward to Harry.

He grabbed at his former best friend's hand, and when Harry looked down, Ron looked up and implored, begged and groveled with his blue eyes. Only then, did the noose stop tightening. Harry shook the redhead's hand off and turned to walk out of the room, picking his way through the debris scattered around him. When he reached the door, the crowd blocking the door parted like the Red Sea for Moses.

At the portrait hole he paused, but without looking back, he spoke.

"Have fun picking out the glass splints. If you try to get them out using magic, they'll enter his blood stream."

A gurgling sound came from the ruined room, followed by a childish giggle escaped from Harry's throat.

"We wouldn't want that, would we?"

The door slammed, startling the vandals of Gryffindor into reality.

***

As the door closed behind him, Harry felt his knees go weak. He willed himself not to falter, but still, his steps were unsteady and he stumbled like a man lost in the desert through the halls of the castle.

Like a man lost in the desert.

He hadn't felt so thirsty in such a long time. He felt the compulsion to drink, to down water, whiskey, even random potions like never before. Heading down a corridor, he lurched forward and flung opened the door of the broom closet. Harry knew this particular corridor well. He bent double and stuck his fingers into the gaps of the planks that covered the base of the cupboard and in one swift movement, ripped the entire board of wood off, revealing an almost full case of Firewhiskey. He took a bottle in each hand, and without even bothering to replace the base, pushed the door of the closet close with his elbow, before slumping down onto the floor with his back against the closet.

Suck, drink, slurp, sip, gulp, quaff.

Harry felt a foot nudge against his left thigh. A black leather shoe, to be exact.

"Fuck off."

"You sure you want me to?"

He looked up. As corny as it sounded to Harry�s own ears, it was his angel. His very own mascot from the heavens above. The one who saved him from dying as a shriveled corpse in the middle of the corridors, the same one who knew him better than anyone else. He didn�t want Draco to leave.

Because he needed a drink more than ever now.

"Why are you here?" Harry rasped.

"See that brick wall there? My room�s behind it."

"In," he growled. "Let me in!"

Without another word, Draco walked over to the brick wall and placed his palm on a brick level with his shoulder. The bricks shivered, before melting into an iridescent butterfly. The butterfly flapped its wings, and as it folded aside, a doorway was revealed. Draco stood in the doorway and turned around, looking at Harry expectantly. In his semi drunken state, Harry's eyes were blind to everything else besides Draco's lithe figure in the wooden frame.

Like a bottle of vintage wine calling to him. Beckoning in with a sultry fashion into the depths of the cellar with a lustfully crooked finger.

Except all Draco had to do was stand there and look at Harry.

Harry frantically scrambled to his feet and went flying at Draco. No more wallowing in self pity alone. He had someone now. He slammed straight into Draco with a low growl, pushing him straight into the wall behind. As soon as they had passed into the interior of the room, the wall built itself back up and dressed itself in a layer of wallpaper. Not that that was noticed by either boy. Draco, who had not expected the assault, was soon pinned up against the wall.

He kissed the blonde on his inviting, luscious lips. No teasing this time. Harry's hands went straight down to fumble with the buckle of Draco's pants, and when he pulled open the zipper, he simply stripped him off any clothing on his lower body as he fell to his knees in front of Draco. Credit had to be given to Draco for his posture then, for he stood almost nonchalantly, leaning against the wall and staring in an amused manner at the dark head at his hips, the only sign of any tension in his body being the slight tremble that ran down his legs. Even so, Harry was the only who could possibly see this sign. And the very same Harry in question was now blowing hot air over Draco, causing the tremors to increase both in strength and frequency. But Draco kept his calm, and he kept it so well.

Until the warm, hot mouth took him straight in.

His knees threatened to buckle at that moment, and all he could do was whimper, a strange look of ecstasy in his face. He dug his fingers into the nooks and crannies of the stone wall behind him, desperately trying to stay upright. Harry had a look of extreme concentration on his face, as he nipped, licked, and suckled, and even though he never broke skin, he wasn�t gentle either. Under his ministrations, Draco�s mouth started to move soundlessly, save for the hoarse scream that came in the end. And when it did come, Harry drank. He drank more deeply than he had ever before.

Suck, drink, slurp, sip, gulp, quaff

Not one drop escaped his mouth, and when the act was done, he leaned back on his haunches, still kneeling, and looked up with a contented sigh, looking every bit like that cat who had gotten the cream. He stuck out his tongue and licked his lips, almost as though he was savoring the aftertaste in his mouth, on his lips. Draco took one look at the sensual scene of the boy on the floor before him, combined with what had just happened, collapsed right on top of Harry. Harry, even in his current state, had the reflexes to catch the blonde before he hit the ground. Adjusting their bodies such that Draco was settled comfortably in his lap, albeit with his pants around his ankles, Harry nuzzled his nose into the crook of Draco�s neck, making it Draco�s turn to sigh contentedly.

"Let me stay here tonight," Harry murmured. "Please�"

Draco nodded. A smile spread quickly over Harry�s face, and Draco felt himself being lifted clear off the ground. He whined a soft protest, but a small, nipping kiss to his lips shut him up, and he allowed himself to be carried and laid gently onto bed. There, Harry removed Draco�s clothes before he started to undress himself, and when he was done, Draco opened his arms, beckoning Harry to him, and soon, the boy wonder was tightly held in an embrace like nothing he had even felt before.

That night, it was dreams of open fields, passionate love-making and cool, cool lemonade on a hot summer�s day which awaited him when he finally fell asleep.

***

Harry woke up to an empty bed the next morning. Without opening his eyes, he had grappled at the place where his companion had been last night. It had been wonderful, sleeping so soundly and when he had woken up in the middle of the night, to gaze upon the loveliness that laid beside him. He had leaned down and planted a soft kiss onto Draco�s forehead, earning himself a small smile on those lovely lips.

But the bed was empty now.

He pulled himself out of the comfortable queen size, noticing somewhere at the back of his head that there was no sound of running water, which meant that the blonde boy who was currently out of sight wasn't hiding out in the bathroom either. It was early, barely six in the morning, and even though he had spent more than half his time in the past few months locking lips with Draco, he suddenly realized that he didn't know much of the blonde's daily habits. They seldom talked to one another. It was an unspoken thought between them that Harry's thirst came first. It was time for that to change, thought Harry at that moment. They had been closer than he had ever been with anyone else the previous night, and Harry could feel a blush emerging from the depths of his tanned skin to the surface. He had been so brazen, so bold, so unlike himself. And judging from Draco�s response, he had enjoyed that side of Harry as well. In fact, didn�t he allow Harry to stay after he was satiated?

So where was he?

Harry had slept in the buff, so when he got up, he decided to walk over to Draco�s huge walk in wardrobe and help himself to some loose slacks as well as a thick, snuggly bathrobe which he wrapped around himself. He had considered wearing the clothes that he had worn the previous night, but a sniff was all it took to deter him of the idea. He padded over to the window and looked out, laughing silently to himself. Who would have thought that a dungeon dwelling Slytherin would have his room well above the ground overlooking the Forbidden Forest in all its luscious green glory? But Harry liked it. It gave him a little more insight into the life of his lover, it being the first time he had been into his room. He liked the way Draco�s room had all the small things to tell him about himself, like the shelf in the corner that held more religious texts than Potions books, or the family portrait, a candid one with Lucius sitting under the tree with his arm around Narcissa, gazing wistfully out into the meadow where a small Draco was riding a miniature pony. He liked how the room was lit brightly, with no dark corners or menacing objects, and the lab table set up with cauldrons and glass tubes bubbling, and he liked how Draco had warded the area around the table such that no one could disturb the going ons on it. He even liked how the room was slightly messy, in contrast to the Slytherin�s impeccable appearance.

He liked how this was the room of an average teenager, and not the neat, dark hide out of a soon-to-be Death Eater.

It was then when a loud, but faraway scream from the scene in front of him. It was buried somewhere under the fauna and flora, but Harry recognized it all the same. It was the sound that had taken over his senses the previous night, and there was only one person it could have belonged to.

Harry ran for the forest as a second scream rang out.

***

He stumbled across the roots of trees, not really clear where he was headed for. Draco�s scream had only sounded twice, and he was simply allowing his intuition to take him to where he was supposed to go.

Don�t let anything bad happen to him, please, not him, not Draco. But for him to scream like that�something bad must�ve happened. God, please, Merlin, let him be alive. Don�t let anything happen to him. I�m sorry I never explained to him why I wanted him, I�m sorry why I never asked if he wanted me. Last night�I just want him to be alright. Please let him be alright�

Harry stopped in his tracks as he came to a clearing in the forest. He had never gone so far into the forest before, but if his imagination still worked properly, this place would probably been have a beautiful little circle of grass before today. There were small white flowers that resembled snowdrops at its edges, and the little dots of lavender and baby�s breath made the place seem like a bouquet of flowers without the exorbitant pricing. The grass was soft, and something told him that the air there would have been fresher and more relaxing than that of Shangri-la�s.

Except now, all that Harry could see was the centre piece in the arrangement that was a eight foot tall crucifix, and his angel pinned to it with a long, hateful nail through each of his hands. There was no sign of an attacker, or the criminals of this act. Only the victim was left. He had been running around for a good fifteen minutes before he came to where he was, and now, he almost wished he hadn�t. The blonde was naked, red liquid streaking down his body, his head drooping such that his chin touched his chest. Blood was starting to dry around where Draco had clearly been whipped, and he was clearly unconscious. No birds were chirping as the light of the early dawn emerged, and there was no scent of greenery or of a new day. All that hung in the mist was the thick odor of coppery blood and the presence of Death.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Death. Draco. Infirmary.

"Hang in there love, you�re going to be fine," he muttered, reaching for his wand to magically remove the nails embedded deeply into Draco�s hands. That was when he realized a wooden sign was nailed to Draco�s once flawless chest.

"Have fun pulling out the nails. If you try getting them out by magic, they�ll move and rip him apart. Love, Us."

Letting out an anguished howl, thoughts of how his vendetta on the Gryffindors would be like ran through his mind. He constructed a small platform at the bottom of the crucifix by transfiguration to raise himself level with Draco, and started to work at the nails which held Draco in place. He struggled to get a good grip on the nail in Draco�s right hand, a task made difficult by the blood that was still flowing while everywhere else was drying. Bitch must have placed a Hemophilia Curse on his hands. Then, he pulled hard, and with a wet, sucking sound, the nail came popping out of Draco�s hands, complete with bits of white bone and flesh on its length. At that exact moment, Draco�s eyes flew wide open and he started screaming again, and Harry dropped the nail and cradled the injured hand tenderly, while trying to hug Draco, who was still pinned to the cross with a nail in his left hand. He pressed himself close to the blonde, kissing away the tears which were now running down cheeks and trying to steady and calm the body which wracked with sobs.

"Oh god, it hurts�it hurts so bad�someone make it stop. Please make it stop�"

"Draco? It�s going to be fine. You have to hang in there. I need to get the other nail out before I can take you to the infirmary�"

"No! No more pain! Let me bleed to death here. Oh god�oh god� it hurts so much. No more, Harry, just leave me. No more�"

Harry had to blink back his tears as he saw the once regal Malfoy reduced to such begging. A small part of him almost wanted to not pull the other nail out, to just hold Draco so that he could spend the last moments of his life without pain.

Last moments of his life? What the fuck am I thinking?

A determined look crossed over Harry�s face. He gritted his teeth and reached for the nail in Draco�s left hand.

"You�re going to make it, Draco. You hear me?! You�re going to make it," he managed to yell out through his teeth. Then he pulled hard, and for the fourth time that morning, Draco screamed his hoarse cry of pain, before finally blacking out good and proper.

***

Draco opened his eyes. Where was he? There was the all too familiar smell of antiseptic, the soothing yellow light from beside his bed, and a head of dark hair resting near where his arm was, the person�s hand entwined with his.

Harry.

Draco smiled to himself. He hadn�t thought he would survive his ordeal. But now, here he was, with his very own knight in a shining armor, well and alive. Alright, so not completely well, but alive nevertheless. He didn�t move yet, because he hadn�t want to wake Harry up yet. He thought he had been done for when he found himself being crucified in the forest, but Harry came through for him. Draco found himself moving his hand out of Harry�s grasp to run it through the thick, dark locks, even though the pain in moving his hand made him wince.

***

Harry woke up when he felt a hand on his head. No one woke him up like that. It used to be a loud, nasal voice in his younger days, then it became a rude bucket of water, then finally, no one cared if he woke up or not. Today, it was a nice, comforting hand that woke him up. He leaned into the gentle caress, hoping to prolong the experience. The attempt didn�t fail though, as the hand continued to stroke his head. Finally, he decided that it was time to look up, and when he did, he almost cried.

"Draco! You�re awake!"

"Yes, Harry. I�m up," Draco croaked. His throat was awfully dry, and he thankfully accepted the glass of water that Harry offered him. At this point, Harry mused to himself. This was the first time that he had poured water for anyone besides himself. It was a new experience, and he found a little part of him telling him that he wanted to keep Draco near enough to serve the blonde anything he wanted. He hadn�t drank anything since he had found his belongings in ruins, but worrying for the Slytherin was more than enough to make him forget about his thirst.

"Harry?"

Harry snapped out of his thoughts. He smiled wearily, before he started to speak.

"Draco, I know you�re probably dead tired now, but there�s a few things I need to talk to you on. If you�re not up to it, just let me know and we�ll talk some other time."

Draco nodded. He had been waiting for Harry to notice his behavior and friendship ever since he handed him that potion, but he never had a chance to tell him about the changes.

"I want to know what happened this morning."

Draco grew pale. It was something he had wanted to lock away in his memory, but he owed it to Harry. Harry had saved his life when he gritted his teeth to pull the nail out. The same Harry who had unconsciously given him a chance for redemption�

"May I start from the beginning? It would be a blind man to not see that I had changed over the past year�"

"Or a group of Gryffindors," Harry said bitterly.

At this point, Draco shuddered slightly, but before Harry could say anything about it, he spoke again.

"During the last holidays, my father gave me a book, the holy bible to be exact, to read. He wanted me to see how weak Muggles were, to be able to believe in something they couldn�t see. To have faith in an almighty, omnipotent being that never did once appear to them, and yet place their lives on the line for him. I read it, but I didn�t stop at that. I went on to the Koran, Buddhist scriptures, even going as far to look for the lesser known versions of the biblical text. They all presented the same idea to me. It wasn�t that the Muggles were weak, or that they were delusional. Something in all these texts shone out to me. And that something was redemption.

I know of the atrocities that the Death Eaters commit each and everyday, and I admit to my behavior in the past. But that was when I couldn�t see any other way out. But now, I saw it. I left home, telling my mother that I wanted to research on dark curses to help our side during the war in the ancient cities, like Rome and Vienna. My parents believed my words, and they let me leave, with pride shining in their eyes like I was the savior, the lord.

Harry, the books I�ve read told me that a child could atone for his parents� sins, and that was what I set off to do.

I visited confession booths, went on pilgrimages, it was all to save my parents� souls. Have you read St Gabriel�s Bible? The description of how sinners are burnt in hell�you wouldn�t want anyone to go through that. But I had to return to school. I didn�t want to arouse anyone�s suspicion. Somewhere deep down, I knew that trying to save my parents� souls was a foolish ideal, but I was determined to be such a fool. They might have killed the fathers, mothers, relatives, children, lovers, enemies of others, but they were my parents, Harry. Do you understand?"

Tears had started to pour down Draco�s eyes now. And all Harry could do was gape at him, open mouthed. He understood. Of course he understood. He would have given anything to have his parents back, and trying to save the people close to you from eternal damnation wasn�t as insane a thought as many thought it would be.

"So I came back to school, and I tried to carry on my work. A priest once told me atoning for sins took place in all good deeds, and Hogwarts, being the happy, riotous place it was, nearly made me despair for I couldn�t see any good deed to conduct. I slipped into my old life, minus all the insults and hurt I used to inflict on everyone else, until I saw you on the jetty that night. You were my family�s chance for redemption, and so I started my work again."

Harry could feel something blazing through him. Draco only helped him because he pitied him. He only allowed Harry to kiss him, touch him, caress him, because he thought he was getting something in return. He felt a kind of anger that was new to him, the kind which stemmed from unreciprocated love. He turned his gaze onto the broken boy in front of him, and started to regret his furor when he saw the Slytherin cower visibly under his gaze.

"Draco�"

"It�s alright, Harry. It�s natural for you to be angry. But let me finish my story. But the weeks that followed�God, Harry, I don�t even know what happened to me. It started off being a quest for redemption, but everything changed when I heard your voice while I was in coma. I woke up, and when you first kissed me, it was like my very own private heaven. I had to ask you if you were still thirsty, and you don�t know how much of a risk I had taken then. I was trying to give you a reason to want to kiss me, to carry on this dysfunctional thing that we had. At that point, it was completely dysfunctional. All I knew was that I looked forward to the next time you placed your lips on mine, and all I could think of was your hands running all over my body. I tried to keep in mind the idea that I was helping you, but something kept telling me that I was falling into one of the seven deadly sins.

Lust.

But I couldn�t stop. You were too tempting, too lovely to refuse.

And somewhere along the line, Harry, I fell for you," Draco finished off with a whisper.

The room lapsed into silence. Harry had never heard Draco talk so much, or learnt so much about anyone at one shot. But he was thankful that Draco had told him so much. He knew it now. It wasn�t an unreciprocated love. It was very much a mutual thing.

"I love you too, Draco."

Draco�s eyes lit up. His tired face took on a gentle edge and he entwined his fingers with Harry�s again, smiling as Harry stroked the hole in his hand through the thick gauze covering it. At this moment, Madam Pomfrey came in and sent Harry out, claiming to have to check on her patient. Harry gave Draco an encouraging smile before he left, knowing that he would see the blonde soon enough.

***

"Does Madam Pomfrey know that you�re out here?"

"The question is, �Will Madam Pomfrey know I�m out here?�"

The two boys looked at each other for a while, then they both laughed quietly. It had been some time since either of them had laughed, and it felt good. They were back on the jetty. It was the first time they were looking at each other away from the infirmary for almost a month. In the infirmary, they felt restricted by the never-ending stream of patients, and so they never really talked after the first day. That night, Harry had headed out to the jetty, knowing that he was out there for a purpose, but he hadn�t known what the purpose was until Draco appeared.

"Sit?"

Draco nodded his head as he shyly settled himself down at the end of the jetty, as far as he could get from Harry. Harry sighed and got up, moving behind the blonde and sitting down so that Draco was sitting in between his thighs, and their feet were both hanging off the end of the jetty. The Slytherin blushed slightly at the close contact, but he leaned back and snuggled into the warmth that now surrounded him.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"You never told me what happened that morning."

"Can we just forget about it? The books said to forgive and forget."

"Let me know, then let me decide if my descent into hell is worth your life."

Draco sighed as he felt Harry�s arms tighten around him. There was no getting out of this.

"I left the room that morning to get you breakfast�"

"Breakfast? Before six?"

"I wanted to prepare something special, so I went down to the kitchens. Along the way, I ran into a few of your housemates, who wanted me to tell them where you were. Something about getting back at you for ruining their dorm. I refused, and they stupefied me. When I was revived, I was in that clearing, and they had a whip with them. The whip�Harry, I think they coated it with powdered glass or something. But I didn�t scream. I didn�t want to alarm anyone. I just thought�maybe I was being punished for lusting after you. But when they hammered the nails into my palms, it was just too much. I blacked out after screaming the second time, and well�I think you would know my state after they left better than me.

You were the one who found me, after all."

"Those bastards� I�m going to�"

"No Harry," Draco whispered. He twisted around in the embrace that held him tight. "It isn�t worth it," he said, separating each word with a light kiss onto Harry�s lips. "It isn�t worth us."

Harry smiled into the kisses. Draco was right. He had Draco, and that was more than enough. His personal vendetta with his house could wait, and he understood what Draco was talking about. It isn�t worth us. Draco meant that he didn�t want them to be separated because Harry was sent to Azkaban for murder. There are other ways to make their lives a living hell though, mused Harry to himself. But at the moment, he certainly didn�t need anything else, what with Draco�s squirming in between his legs, rubbing against where he had not been touched for so long. He gave a little whimper as he felt himself harden, and at the same time, a little irked when Draco smirked on his lips. As Draco pushed himself deeper in between Harry�s legs, Harry moaned loud and clear. The blonde kissed his way up to where Harry�s ear was, and he whispered softly.

"Thirsty, lover?"

Suck, drink, slurp, sip, gulp, quaff.

"Never again�"
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