Chapter 6
Thick, rolling smoke curled around Harry, swallowing the world whole. It was cold—so cold, his skin felt like the chill of death itself. The air was heavy, suffocating, pressing down on his chest like an invisible weight.
Then came the sound.
A soft whimper. Pained. Fragile.
Harry’s pulse spiked. His feet moved before he could think, driven by instinct alone. The smoke shifted as he stepped forward, parting like it had been waiting for him, opening up a pathway.
The whimper came again. Closer now.
Harry’s heart slammed against his ribs as he caught sight of a man sprawled on the ground. A cloaked figure stood over him, examining him. His breath hitched—blond hair, and that scent--
Harry surged forward. “Draco!” His voice rang out, desperate, raw. “Draco!”
No reaction.
Draco stirred weakly, struggling to rise, but a dark figure loomed over him, pressing him back down with a casual, almost lazy force.
Then the figure turned, and red eyes met his own.
Harry would recognize that man anywhere. A sharp, predatory grin split Voldemort’s face.
“Ah,” he crooned, voice smooth and mocking. “What a lovely thing you’ve been hiding from me.”
Harry’s blood ran cold. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Get away from him.”
Voldemort’s grin widened. “Now, now,” he chided. “You should know by now, Harry… what’s yours is mine. The connection we have isn't to be ignored.”
Harry lunged forward, or tried to because his body wouldn’t move. He was stuck, frozen in place as if the shadows had wrapped around his limbs. Panic clawed at his throat.
Draco shuddered beneath Voldemort’s touch, but his eyes remained unfocused, like he wasn’t even aware of what was happening.
"Get away from him!"
“Don't scream. He can’t hear you,” Voldemort murmured, running a pale, bony hand along Draco’s cheek. “I have him now.”
“No,” Harry growled, voice trembling with fury. “You’ll never have him.”
Voldemort clicked his tongue in amusement. “You don’t even touch him, do you?” He tilted his head, as if inspecting Draco. “Such a waste. A pureblooded virgin Omega. Untouched.”
Harry’s stomach lurched. His magic surged, roaring in his veins, burning against whatever invisible force held him back.
Voldemort’s fingers ghosted over Draco’s throat, pressing against the collar. His voice dropped into something almost thoughtful. “I’ll be the first, then.”
A violent, wordless scream tore from his throat—
"Wake up." Voldemort hissed, before snaking down to Draco's pants.
====
Harry jolted awake with a sharp, panicked scream. His lungs burned, struggling to fill, as his hands clawed at the blanket that felt like it was suffocating him. The world around him was a blur, but there was someone—someone familiar—hovering over him.
Sirius.
The moment the name entered his mind, the man pulled him into a tight embrace, his fingers tangling through Harry’s messy hair. It didn’t fix the breathlessness, but it helped—barely. Every breath was a fight, each one feeling like a battle for air. Harry gasped, swallowing desperately as if he were drowning.
“Shh, you’re okay, Harry,” Sirius murmured.
“Draco,” Harry croaked, barely a rasp escaping his throat.
"Draco's fine," Sirius soothed,his grip tightening when Harry made an attempt to break free. The sound of Harry's second scream vibrated through the room as his godfather held him steady, a sudden tension running through Sirius' frame.
“Muffliato,” Sirius whispered, his wand flicking once to ensure Draco—who was sleeping down the hall—wouldn’t hear a thing. “You're okay. Tell me, pup. What’s wrong?”
"Draco!" Harry gasped, the air he did manage to breathe only making his chest ache more. His body trembled in Sirius's hold, as if it might break free and run on its own. “I have to help him!”
“Harry,” Sirius said softly. “Draco’s asleep in his room. We’re at Grimmauld Place. Remember?”
“No!” Harry snapped, his breath hitching. “I saw it—Voldemort took him. Merlin, he tried to touch him! I need to—"
Harry clawed at Sirius' arm, and bit him when it became obvious he wouldn't let go. Sirius groaned in pain but didn't let go, and he didn't raise a hand to move Harry either. Instead, he beckoned closer to Harry's neck and nudged at his scent glad with his nose. Harry stiffened for a minute before relaxing against the gesture. It always seemed to calm Harry down, being scented. First, Molly used to do it to him and now Sirius, all he could smell was familysafetyfamily...
He cried.
“Calm down,” Sirius soothed, his voice a little more forceful now, as if the sight before him was painful. “I’ll take you to Draco’s room, show you he’s fine, but you have to promise to stay quiet.”
"Sirius—”
“You don’t want to upset your Omega, do you?” Sirius’s reminded him, silencing Harry. "Promise?"
Harry nodded. Sirius simply lifted him from the bed, ignoring the weak protests as Harry continued to claw at his chest, desperate for any sign that Draco was safe. Sirius's arms were a steady anchor, a wall that Harry couldn’t break through, numbing the chaos that was brewing inside of his head.
He was carried through the dark hallways of Grimmauld Place, the only sound the soft swish of Sirius’s footsteps and Harry’s own ragged breaths. It felt like an eternity, but they finally reached Draco’s door.
Sirius hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the doorknob. Harry’s heart raced, the knot in his chest tightening as he stared at the door, every instinct telling him something was wrong.
"He's here, Harry," Sirius said, voice calm but firm. "Now, remember your promise."
Harry nodded weakly, barely able to focus, his entire body trembling. Sirius opened the door slowly, and the dim light from the hallway spilled into the room.
Draco lay sprawled out on the bed, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of deep sleep. Harry could see the faintest smile on Draco’s lips, a peaceful expression Harry hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.
The sight of the collar still hung around Draco's neck, he hadn't taken it off through the night--It worked like a balm to Harry’s frayed nerves. His inner alpha, the part of him that had been restless and uneasy, finally stilled as he took in the sight of it. The knot in his chest loosened, his heartbeat settling into a steadier rhythm.
His omega was safe, untouched, unscathed, and very much alive. It was all Harry could do to keep from collapsing onto the floor, the tension draining from his body in waves.
Draco stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake.
Sirius stepped back, watching Harry carefully.
Harry took a shaky breath, his hand instinctively reaching out, almost as if he could touch Draco through the distance.
“See?” Sirius said softly, his voice still holding that note of gentle authority. “Draco’s fine. No one’s taking him anywhere.”
Harry swallowed hard, the lump in his throat still there but lessened. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, his emotions a mix of relief and frustration.
“I—I saw it,” Harry whispered, his voice cracking, “I saw him... I couldn’t...”
“I know, pup,” Sirius murmured, rubbing Harry’s shoulder lightly. “But he’s here. Safe. And he needs you to be okay, too.”
Harry nodded, staring at Draco’s sleeping form.
"I swore to James that I'd keep you safe," Sirius whispered, his voice cracking with raw emotion, the words slipping out like a vulnerable secret he hadn’t dared to say aloud in years. His eyes glistened with unspoken pain. "And I plan on honoring that pact with my life, Harry. With everything I am. I’ll keep Draco safe—for you. I swear it."
=====
Harry was acting weird, Draco noticed, as he leaned against the counter in the kitchen, nursing a hot cup of tea Kreacher had brewed for him. The Alpha was seated across from him, dark eye bags ever so evident, watching him blankly. It was awkward.
Draco didn’t do anything to break the silence, not yet at least. Kreacher had been scurrying around setting up breakfast, fussing over the smallest details with his usual meticulous care. The house elf had even gone so far as to place a fresh vase of flowers on the counter, though Draco wasn’t sure why. Still, it was a bit of a comfort in the awkwardness.
Harry kept glancing at him, his fingers tapping nervously on the edge of his mug, but he never said a word. It was like the conversation had been locked away in some hidden part of him.
Finally, Kreacher scuttled to the door, satisfied with his work. He looked at Harry for a moment, glaring, before he made a low bow to Draco. “Master Draco, if you would allow Kreacher, Kreacher will leave you to your breakfast. Kreacher shall return later to take care of any further needs.” And with that, the elf disappeared from the room, leaving them alone.
The silence came back like a wave. Draco shifted uneasily, his gaze flicking to Harry once more. It was like the Alpha was lost in thought, but also... avoiding something? Draco wasn’t sure, but it didn’t sit right with him.
"So," Draco started, trying to fill the empty space with something—anything—just to break the tension. "How’s your sleep? You look like you’ve been run over by a herd of Hippogriffs."
Harry blinked at him, then a small, tired smile tugged at his lips. “Could say the same about you, Malfoy. You look like you’ve been awake for days.”
Draco snorted, rolling his eyes. “So,” he said. “how are we... progressing with the war, then?” He leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed, trying to keep his tone light. But the question was heavier than it sounded, and they both knew it.
Harry stiffened, not quite meeting Draco’s gaze. Draco watched as Harry ran his hand through his hair rather anxiously.
“I don’t think it’s something you need to worry about, Draco,” Harry said, his tone clipped. He forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ve got it under control. Just, you know, the usual fighting, trying to stay one step ahead.”
Draco’s expression didn’t change. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Don’t lie to me, Potter. You’re terrible at it, for one thing. And for another, I can feel the tension in the air. The walls aren’t thick enough to hide it. You think I'd pass the information over to my father, don't you?”
Harry sighed, looking down at his hands for a moment before raising his eyes to meet Draco’s. “No, never. I just don’t want you involved. It’s dangerous, Draco. Too dangerous.”
“And you think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice lower now, almost dangerous in its quiet intensity. “I’m not an idiot. I’m not some delicate flower you can keep locked away from the real world. Bellatrix is my aunt, she doesn't leave a flower around to survive.”
Harry hesitated. Draco knew he was right, and he knew that Harry knew that as well, and couldn't find something to counter his argument with. The Malfoy blood ran deep.
“I just don’t want to see you hurt,” Harry muttered, his voice rough. He rubbed his hand over his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I can’t lose anyone else.”
Draco’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second, but it was gone before Harry could even register it. “You’re not going to lose me, Potter,” he said, his voice steady now. “Not if I can help it.”
"Harry." He corrected rather childishly.
"Harry." Draco agreed, before continuing. If Harry wasn't going to speak, maybe he could coax him with his own information. “you think the Dark Lord will make a move soon? It’s been quiet for too long. I’ve heard some things from the family—he’s planning something big.”
Harry froze, his blood running cold. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, not wanting to show the sharp edge of panic that rose in his chest.
Draco looked around the room as if making sure they weren’t being overheard, his eyes darting to the window. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “He’s going to stay at Malfoy Manor for a while. I don’t know why—maybe to regroup, maybe because it’s more... secure than anywhere else. He’ll be there soon. He had my aunt--I mean, Bellatrix store a sword for him. ”
Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. He had known that Voldemort’s forces were always moving, but the Malfoy connection hit too close to home. Draco was talking about his own family’s estate, the one place Harry had thought was, if not safe, at least neutral.
“I don’t understand,” Harry said, his mind racing. “Why stay there? What’s the point?”
Draco shrugged, his eyes shifting to the side, almost like he didn’t want to share this, but it was too important not to. “I don’t know. I think he’s trying to make a statement. Or maybe he just wants to be closer to... certain things.” He hesitated, his lips pressed tight before adding, “I can’t get any clearer than that. But you should be prepared. It’s going to happen soon.”
Harry’s pulse quickened, his thoughts racing. Draco’s information was crucial—he had no idea how he knew it, but it was undeniable. Harry knew he needed to take action.
"A sword?" Harry repeated.
Draco nodded in confirmation.
"Do you know what a horcux is?" Harry asked tentatively, his eyebrows raised.
"No," Draco said slowly. "Should I?"
“No, no." He sighed. "Thanks, Draco,” Harry said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve just made things a whole lot more complicated, but I needed to know. You’re sure about this?”
Draco gave him a tight nod. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t.”
“It's dangerous for you. You’re not—”
“Not a bloody child, Harry,” Draco cut in, voice sharp.
"I know that!"
"Then don't treat me like one!"
"I--you need to listen. Sometimes I see visions from him." Harry said quietly. He didn’t look at Draco as he spoke, his hands gripping the cup of tea like it might anchor him. "He can get in my mind, and show me stuff. Can't tell what's real and what's not."
Draco’s eyes softened, a quiet understanding settling in. “You’re talking about the connection, then,” he said quietly, not even questioning Harry’s words. It wasn’t surprise in his voice, but something more like reluctant empathy.
Harry nodded, fighting the sinking feeling in his gut. “Yeah. And it’s... getting worse. He showed me something last night—about you.”
Draco stiffened, but he didn’t interrupt, simply waiting for Harry to finish.
“I saw him... take you, Draco,” Harry continued, his voice thick. “Like, take you. He wanted you. I—I couldn’t stop it. It felt so real, and I couldn’t tell if it was just a dream, or if it’s something that could really happen.”
There was a long pause. Harry’s breath felt shallow, and he had to steady himself to stop his hands from shaking. He couldn’t meet Draco’s eyes, afraid that his fear would be too obvious, too raw.
Draco stood still for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he pushed off from the counter and stepped closer to Harry.
“You’re worrying yourself,” Draco said, his voice soft but with an edge that only Draco could pull off—calm, yet undeniably firm. “The Dark Lord can’t control everything. I’m still here, aren’t I?” He reached out, his hand resting on Harry’s arm, steady and warm. The simple touch grounded Harry more than he expected.
“I can’t lose you,” Harry murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “Not like that.”
Draco’s lips curled into a faint, almost sad smile. “You won’t. I’m not some damsel to be whisked away.” He met Harry’s eyes with a gaze full of unspoken strength, the quiet fire that always burned in him. “Besides, you forget. I’m Malfoy. We’re not exactly easy targets.”
Harry looked up at him, eyes full of conflicting emotions—relief, frustration, and something deeper, something he was still trying to work out. “You think that’s going to stop him? You’re his target now, Draco. I failed in protecting you, and now he knows you're my Omega and he won't stop, ever!”
Draco gave a shrug, but there was a subtle tension in his shoulders. “And I’ll deal with it when it happens. You don’t need to worry about me.” He stepped back slightly, his gaze softening. “We’ll both be fine. Even if our situation isn't ideal and you sort of forced yourself on me.”
Harry exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, unable to hide the smile forming from Draco's last sentence. Despite everything, despite the fear swirling in his chest, there was something about Draco’s words—about his confidence—that brought him a strange sense of peace. Maybe it wasn’t the right peace, but it was the only kind of peace Harry was going to get for now.
There was a pause, and then Harry seemed to hesitate before speaking again. He set his mug down, his gaze softening as it lingered on Draco’s face.
“I... I don’t think I ever really said it, did I?” Harry said, his voice a little quieter now, but with a new seriousness to it.
Draco raised an eyebrow, confused but intrigued. “Said what?”
"That I... I love you, Draco." Harry’s words came out slowly, as though testing them in the air before they landed. But before Draco could even process the admission, Harry quickly added, “Not that I’m trying to make it all heavy or anything, I just—well, yeah.”
Draco blinked, feeling his heart beat harder in his chest. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh, choke, or hug Harry until he couldn’t breathe.
“Way to change the subject,” Draco said awkwardly, his voice a little shaky now, “that’s—well, I mean... you can’t just drop that kind of thing on me like it’s nothing. Do you even know what you're saying?” He smirked, trying to hide the growing warmth in his cheeks, but there was no escaping the fluttering in his stomach.
Harry shrugged, a small grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “What? Thought it might’ve been obvious. But, uh... you know, I love you.” He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and pressed his lips softly to Draco’s.
Draco froze for a moment, the kiss catching him off guard, but then he melted into it, his hands automatically reaching up to rest on Harry’s shoulders. The kiss deepened, and Harry’s hands slid to the back of Draco’s neck, pulling him closer.
They were kissing against the counter now, Harry’s body leaning into Draco’s with a sense of urgency that made Draco’s heart race even faster. He couldn’t even focus on the world around him anymore—just the feeling of Harry’s lips and the warmth of his touch.
That was until a loud ahem echoed from the doorway.
Both of them jerked back immediately, eyes wide. Sirius was standing in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea with an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Well, well. Really Harry, at this time of day? It's only morning,” he said casually, completely at ease. “Don’t mind me. I just walked in here, trying to enjoy my tea. But, you know,” he added with a wink, “you two look good together. Keep it up.”
Draco’s face flushed a deep red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to find the words to respond. “Shameless!” he stammered, mortified.
Sirius chuckled, taking another leisurely sip of his tea. “What? I wasn’t even trying to be discreet. Honestly, it’s cute.” He grinned broadly, the kind of grin that said he was far too amused to feel any pity for them. “You’re both so... obvious. Now, go on, carry on. I’ll be in the other room, don't worry.”
Draco felt his entire body flush with embarrassment, his hands finding the nearest counter to cling to for support. “I... I can’t believe this,” he muttered under his breath, his heart still racing, but now from the sheer awkwardness of the situation. "That was so humiliating. I-I can't look you in the eye ever again."
"Just be thankful that it's me. Imagine if it were your father that walked in!"
Harry couldn’t help it—he laughed. And when Draco shot him a glare, it only made him laugh harder.
Sirius grinned wider, clearly enjoying every second of it. It was, for all intents and purposes, too cute.