Chapter 17
Draco snorted as he walked along the dormitory corridor, his elegant yet impatient stride betraying his irritation. The day had been unbearably long—uselessly boring classes, annoying housemates, and, to top it off, an extra hour of Potions with Snape, who seemed determined to torture him with rhetorical questions. All he wanted was to ditch that suffocating tie, throw himself on his bed, and maybe enjoy a moment of peace.
He opened his room’s door with a brisk gesture, but halted abruptly as soon as he crossed the threshold—the breath catching in his throat.
Harry was there. Standing in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but a towel tied around his hips, with droplets of water slowly sliding down his still-damp skin. His dark hair—more tousled than usual—seemed to absorb the flickering candlelight, while the deep green of his eyes fixed on Draco with an inscrutable calm. Every movement, every breath Harry took appeared calculated to leave him utterly breathless.
Draco swallowed hard.
Then he realized one thing: Harry had returned.
From wherever he had vanished, from any damned corner he might have gotten himself into, Harry was here again—standing before him with that air of someone who had never truly left. A wave of conflicting emotions—relief and frustration—overwhelmed Draco, but before he could speak a word, Harry moved.
In an instant, Harry closed the space between them. As naturally as one breathes, he tiptoed forward, pulled Draco so that he leaned toward him, and kissed him.
It was a bold, decisive kiss that left no room for hesitation. Harry’s lips were still cool—perhaps from the shower—and he remained perfectly still, too surprised to react, too lost in the taste of the other to care about anything else.
But Harry didn’t linger. With the same speed with which he had kissed, he withdrew and headed out of the room already dressed—leaving behind nothing but Draco’s racing heartbeat and a mind in turmoil.
«No.»
Instinct took over: before he could stop himself, Draco’s hand shot out. He grabbed Harry’s wrist and tugged him back, causing him to gently collide against his chest. Draco’s arms wrapped around him in a firm embrace, and Harry did not resist.
Draco buried his face against Harry’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body and inhaling deeply that familiar scent he’d missed far more than he cared to admit.
«Two weeks, Harry. You’ve been gone for two damn weeks.»
Harry shifted slightly—just enough to meet Draco’s eyes.
«I suppose that place has no concept of time.» he said calmly.
«Hermione and Ron are waiting for me.»
Draco’s jaw tightened in irritation. He’d just gotten his man back and now Harry was about to vanish again.
«Can’t you delay?» Draco asked, and before Harry could reply, Draco tilted his head and sank his teeth into his neck with a decisive bite—firm enough to leave its mark.
Harry held his breath, but his answer remained unchanged. «No.»
Draco snorted, not easing his grip.
«Then I’m coming with you.»
Harry said nothing—offering no comment. He simply looked at Draco with that same enigmatic gaze, as if he’d already anticipated everything.
Draco gave him one last hard look before releasing him.
«Tonight, you’re staying over at my room. I’m not taking a "no" for an answer.«» he muttered as he adjusted his uniform, while Harry—smiling slightly—nodded before dematerializing.
In the Room of Requirement, the sound of magical chess pieces moving on their own filled the air, while Draco and Blaise were absorbed in their game. A few steps away, gathered around a table, Hermione, Ron, and Harry were engaged in an animated discussion, their low voices heavy with tension.
The blonde cast a glance at his chess partner before speaking.
«What are you doing here, anyway?» he asked, moving a bishop absentmindedly.
Zabini merely shrugged with his usual nonchalance.
«Every time I manage to get close, I always end up in situations like this.»
Draco snorted and shook his head.
«I understand you all too well.» he murmured, recalling every time he’d tried to get close to the dark-haired guy.
Blaise glanced over at the trio.
«What are they talking about?» he asked, curious.
The Ravenclaw turned toward them, as if having heard the question, and rose from the table—followed by the redhead.
«We’ve updated Harry on some issues at the Ministry.» she explained, seating herself on the couch beside Ron.
Meanwhile, the blonde wasted no time. He grabbed Harry by the wrist and roughly dragged him along his legs, ignoring Hermione’s raised eyebrow and Ron’s exasperated look.
Blaise watched the scene with an amused little smile before folding his arms.
«Now that I think about it, Potter… has anyone ever wondered why you disappear for days?»
«Weeks.» Draco corrected him.
«Weeks.» he repeated.
The directly involved party simply shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
«I manipulated their minds to make them believe it was normal.» he answered calmly, moving a pawn on the chessboard.
«Checkmate.» he announced with a barely perceptible smile.
«Obviously. You’re back and the first thing you do is humiliate me at chess.»
The Gryffindor shot him an amused glance.
«If it makes you feel any better, that wasn’t my intention.»
«How’s your father doing, anyway?» Hermione asked, crossing her arms.
«Exactly—what happened?»
Draco nodded, curiosity in his eyes.
The other sighed, relaxing against his chest.
«He’s fine. But he still needs to recover.»
«What happened to him anyway?» Zabini queried, frowning.
«He remained asleep in the form of a dragon for a while—thanks to Dumbledore.» said flatly.
Silence.
«Wait, your father is a dragon?!» they all shouted in unison.
Harry paused, considering how to answer—remembering that last time he hadn’t told the whole truth. He had explained that Dumbledore had manipulated everyone, that Voldemort wasn’t exactly what the world believed, and that he himself was an ancient creature—but he hadn’t gone into too many details.
Clearing his throat and avoiding the incredulous stares, he said: «Uh… at this point, maybe I should tell you some more things, now that I think about it.»
Draco observed the dark-haired guy intently, tracking every small movement of his fingers over his knuckles. It was almost hypnotic—the way Harry traced slow circles on his skin, completely indifferent to the revelation he’d just made. As if he hadn’t just said he was the son of two primordial entities. As if he hadn’t just admitted he was some sort of cosmic god.
Zabini softly whistled and crossed his arms.
«So, wait a minute. Not only is your father a dragon, but you’re some kind of… divine creature who could send a bunch of fucking gods to hell?»
Harry snorted, idly playing with the blonde’s fingers as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
«More or less. I think his name is Drakhalion. Vareth definitely chose it.»
«And has it never occurred to you to mention that you’re, like, a deity?!»
Hermione, usually not one to shout, especially not in that tone, was met with raised eyebrows from the two Slytherins—who appeared more shocked by her reaction than by Potter’s words.
Then, as if realizing she’d lost her composure, Hermione cleared her throat and composed herself, returning to that perfectly rational mask.
The dark-haired guy (Harry) merely shrugged.
«I didn’t think it was that relevant.»
«You didn’t think it was relevant?» Ron repeated in disbelief, as if trying to confirm he’d heard correctly.
«Good grief, mate.» said, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head with a slight smile.
There was a moment of silence, then Blaise burst out laughing—followed by the Ravenclaw, who, despite everything, seemed almost relieved. Even the blonde offered a slight amused smile, and when Harry barely lifted one corner of his lips, the redhead pointed a finger at him.
«Ah-ha! I saw you—you’re smiling!» Ron exclaimed, shaking his head but not denying anything.
Later, in the quiet of their room, Draco lay next to his boyfriend, his fingers tangled in Harry’s hair while the other read a book with that same detached calm he applied to everything.
When Harry finally closed his book and set it aside, Draco watched him out of the corner of his eye.
«Are you sleepy?» the other one slowly nodded.
Draco fell silent for a moment before recalling something Hermione had mentioned.
«Is it true that you couldn’t sleep before?» Harry snorted softly.
«Hermione notices too many things.»
«So, yes?» Draco pressed, continuing to run his fingers through Harry's hair.
The Gryffindor hesitated for a moment before replying «Yes… I think your aura helps me.»
Draco paused, intrigued.
«My aura?»
The dark-haired guy turned slightly toward him, his eyes shimmering in the dim light of the room.
«Yeah, your aura—it’s white, clear, calm…» his tone grew lower, more drowsy.
«Let’s talk tomorrow.»
Draco watching him for a moment before sinking back onto his pillow.
«Tomorrow.»