Touch
Draco sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the fire flickering in the hearth. It had been four days since he’d last seen Orion. Four days since that kiss, since the moment everything had shifted and He hadn’t heard a word from the man—not a cocky comment at the Ministry, not a knowing smirk in passing, not even a cryptic owl. It wasn’t like him to stay silent this long, and Draco hated how much it was bothering him.
He tried to focus on his work, on anything else, but his thoughts always circled back to Orion: the warmth of his hands, the way his eyes glowed when he smiled, and the infuriating ease with which he’d invaded Draco’s carefully constructed walls.
With a sigh, Draco stood and began pacing the room. Something was wrong—he could feel it. Orion didn’t strike him as the type to just disappear. And he’d called in sick for 4 days now….
Finally, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Draco grabbed his wand and cloak.
“I’m being ridiculous,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out of his flat and Apparated to Orion’s building.
~
Draco stood in front of Orion’s door, hesitating. It was late—too late for a casual visit—but he wasn’t here for casual. He raised his hand and knocked firmly.
There was no response.
Draco frowned and knocked again, harder this time. Still nothing.
He glanced up and down the empty hallway, then tried the door handle. It turned easily, and he pushed the door open, stepping inside cautiously.
The flat was dark and unusually quiet, the faint scent of Orion’s cologne lingering in the air. Draco’s heart thudded in his chest as he made his way through the tidy living room, calling out softly, “Orion?”
A muffled groan came from the direction of the bedroom.
Draco hurried toward the sound, pushing open the door to find Orion sprawled in bed, pale and disheveled. His normally vibrant eyes were dim, and his skin had a faint sheen of sweat.
“Malfoy?” Orion’s voice was hoarse, his expression shifting from confusion to faint amusement. “What are you doing here?”
Draco ignored the question, stepping closer. “You look like death warmed over.”
“Thanks,” Orion said weakly, trying to smirk but failing. “Just a bug. Nothing serious.”
“You’ve been out of commission for four days,” Draco shot back, crossing his arms. “Clearly, it’s more than ‘just a bug.’”
Orion waved a hand dismissively. Draco noticed how much effort even that took him. “I’ll survive. Didn’t think you’d care enough to check on me.”
Draco’s jaw tightened. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”
“Part of my charm,” Orion muttered, sinking further into the pillows.
Draco sighed, his irritation fading into concern. He pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. “Have you eaten anything? Taken any potions?”
“Some,” Orion admitted, though his tone wasn’t convincing.
“Some isn’t enough,” Draco said firmly, pulling out his wand. “I’ll make you something.”
“Malfoy—”
“Don’t argue,” Draco interrupted, standing and heading to the kitchen.
Scene: Orion’s Bedroom, Later
Draco returned with a bowl of soup and a vial of Pepperup Potion, setting them on the bedside table. Orion blinked up at him, looking faintly amused despite his exhaustion.
“Didn’t take you for the nurturing type,” Orion teased, his voice raspier now.
“Don’t get used to it,” Draco muttered, helping him sit up.
Orion accepted the soup and potion without further protest, his usual bravado tempered by how clearly unwell he was. As he ate, Draco leaned back in the chair, watching him closely.
“You could have told me you were sick,” Draco said after a moment, his voice quieter.
Orion glanced at him, his expression softening. “Didn’t think you’d care.”
Draco looked away, his cheeks flushing. “You’re an idiot.”
Orion chuckled weakly, setting the empty bowl aside. “You keep saying that, yet here you are.”
standing draco smoothed his robes. “Someone has to keep you alive, apparently.”
Orion smiled faintly, his eyes closing as he sank back into the pillows. “Thanks, Malfoy.”
It had draco lingering in the doorway for a moment, watching as Orion’s breathing evened out.
“Idiot,” he muttered again, though this time, it sounded more like an endearment.
~
Two days later:
Draco paced back and forth in the living room, his worry growing with every passing hour. Orion had shown no signs of improvement since Draco had first barged in days ago. If anything, he seemed worse—his already pale skin had taken on a sickly hue, and his usual sharpness was dulled by fatigue.
Draco had tried everything he could think of: potions, remedies, even calling in a favour with a Healer he trusted. But none of it seemed to help.
Finally, unable to take it any longer, Draco marched into the bedroom where Orion was lying half-asleep, his head resting against a pile of pillows.
“Alright, enough,” Draco said, his voice sharper than he intended. He stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. “What’s going on with you? And don’t tell me it’s ‘just a bug.’”
Orion’s eyes fluttered open, their usual glow dim but still present. He gave Draco a faint smile, though it was tinged with exhaustion. “I told you, Malfoy. I’ll be fine.”
“That’s not an answer,” Draco snapped, his worry bubbling over into frustration. “You’ve been like this for almost a week. You can barely get out of bed. None of the potions are working. So either you tell me what’s really happening, or I’m dragging you to St. Mungo’s myself.”
Orion sighed, shifting slightly to sit up. “It’s not something they can fix,” he admitted, his voice low. Draco frowned, his stomach tightening. “What do you mean?”
Orion hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… a side effect of my magic.”
The blonde blinked, caught off guard. “Your magic?”
Orion nodded, leaning back against the pillows. “I told you before that my magic is unusually potent, right? Comes with the glowing eyes and all that?”
“Hard to forget,” Draco muttered, crossing his arms.
“Well, there’s a downside to it,” Orion continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “Sometimes it takes too much out of me, especially if I’ve been pushing myself too hard. It’s like… magical burnout, I guess you could say.”
Draco stared at him, processing the explanation. “So this happens often?”
“Not often,” Orion said quickly, though the look in his eyes suggested otherwise. “Maybe once or twice a year, usually after a stretch of high-intensity magic use. It’s my body’s way of forcing me to rest.”
Draco’s frown deepened. “You’ve been doing all those missions back-to-back without telling anyone this might happen?”
Orion shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t think it was relevant.”
“Not relevant?” Draco repeated, his voice rising. “You’re practically bedridden, and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”
“I didn’t want anyone fussing over me,” Orion said, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “And I didn’t expect you to barge in like this.”
Draco huffed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Orion chuckled softly, though it quickly turned into a cough. Draco moved instinctively, grabbing a glass of water from the bedside table and handing it to him.
“You’re lucky I care,” Draco muttered as Orion drank.
“Am I?” Orion asked, his voice still weak but laced with warmth. He set the glass down, his glowing eyes meeting Draco’s. “I’d say I’m more than lucky.”
Draco’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away, focusing on straightening the blanket instead. “Just… tell me next time, alright? I don’t like surprises like this.”
“Alright,” Orion said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But only if you promise to keep fussing over me.
Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed the chair he’d been using for the past few days and settled back in, his worry easing just slightly now that he knew the truth.
~
Draco sat in the chair beside Orion’s bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped tightly. Orion looked slightly better than he had a day ago, but the lingering exhaustion in his glowing eyes still sent a pang of worry through Draco.
For the past few days, Draco had been doing everything he could think of to help—fetching potions, cooking meals, tidying up the flat—but none of it felt like enough. Orion was still weak, still confined to his bed, and it was driving Draco mad that he couldn’t fix it.
Finally, unable to keep his thoughts to himself, Draco broke the silence. “Alright,” he said, his tone more determined than he felt. “What can I do to help?”
Orion, who had been staring at the ceiling, turned his head to look at Draco. His lips curved into a small, tired smile. “You’ve already done more than enough, Malfoy.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Draco said firmly, leaning forward. “There’s got to be something—anything—that’ll make this easier for you.”
Orion let out a soft chuckle, though it was tinged with fatigue. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”
Draco arched an eyebrow. “When someone I—” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat before he cleared it. “When someone I care about is practically wasting away in front of me? Yes, I’m relentless.”
Orion’s eyes softened, the faint glow in them seeming to brighten for a moment. “You really care, don’t you?”
Draco huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “Don’t make me regret saying it.”
Orion’s smile grew, though it was still faint. “Alright, fine. If you really want to help…” He trailed off, his expression turning thoughtful.
Draco leaned in expectantly. “Yes?”
“Just… stay,” Orion said after a moment, his voice quieter. “You don’t have to do anything grand. Just sit here. Talk to me. Remind me that I’m not alone in this.”
Draco blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the request. He shifted in his chair, his initial instinct to argue fading as he met Orion’s gaze.
“Stay,” Draco repeated softly, as though testing the word.
Orion nodded, a faint flush coloring his pale cheeks. “I don’t get sick often, but when I do, it’s usually just me dealing with it. Having you here… it makes it easier.”
Draco’s chest tightened at the honesty in Orion’s voice. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft sigh. “Fine,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. “I’ll stay.”
Orion’s smile widened, the exhaustion in his expression momentarily replaced by something softer, something warmer.
“And if there’s anything else you need,” Draco added, his voice low but firm, “you’ll tell me. Promise?”
“I promise,” Orion said, his voice tinged with gratitude.
Draco nodded, settling more comfortably into his chair. For the first time in days, he felt like he was actually doing something right.
~
The quiet hum of the night filled the space, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire Draco had insisted on starting in the hearth. Orion lay propped up against a pile of pillows, his breathing steady but still faintly labored.
Draco sat in the chair beside the bed, thumbing through an old book he’d pulled from Orion’s bookshelf, though his attention kept drifting to the man resting beside him. Orion’s usual energy was absent, replaced by a vulnerability that Draco wasn’t used to seeing—and didn’t like seeing, if he were honest.
“Malfoy,” Orion said softly, his voice hoarse but clear enough to pull Draco from his thoughts.
Draco set the book down and turned to him. “What?”
Orion hesitated, his glowing eyes meeting Draco’s in the dim light. “Come here.”
Draco blinked, startled by the request. “What?”
Orion gave him a tired, faintly amused smile. “You heard me. Sit with me. Or lie down. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Draco frowned, glancing at the empty space beside Orion. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m in the mood to joke?” Orion quipped, though his smirk softened into something more sincere. “I’m not trying to pull anything, Malfoy. I just… It’s been a rough week. I’d like some company.”
Draco hesitated, the idea of climbing into bed with Orion making his stomach flip for reasons he wasn’t ready to examine. But the vulnerability in Orion’s voice, the way his glowing eyes seemed dimmer than usual, pushed him to his feet.
“Fine,” Draco muttered, moving to the other side of the bed. “But if you’re lying about not trying anything—”
“Relax,” Orion interrupted, his smile widening slightly. “I’ll behave.”
Draco climbed in awkwardly, keeping a careful distance at first. But Orion shifted closer, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder with a sigh that sounded like relief.
Draco tensed for a moment before exhaling and allowing himself to relax. His arm came up tentatively, wrapping around Orion’s shoulders.
It was then that Draco noticed it.
Where their skin touched—his hand resting lightly against Orion’s upper arm, their sides pressing together—there was a faint, pulsing glow. It was warm, gentle, and oddly soothing, as though Orion’s magic was responding to the contact.
“What’s that?” Draco asked, his voice quieter now.
Orion hummed, not moving from his spot against Draco. “What’s what?”
“The glow,” Draco clarified, gesturing vaguely with his free hand. “Under my hand. Where I’m touching you.”
Orion opened his eyes, glancing down at the faint light. He smiled faintly, his voice low and tired. “It’s my magic.”
Draco stared at him. “Your magic?”
“It reacts when I’m… comfortable,” Orion explained, his tone almost shy. “When I feel safe.”
Draco blinked, his breath catching. “Safe?”
Orion nodded, closing his eyes again. “You’re steady, Malfoy. You keep me grounded. My magic likes that. I like that.”
Draco’s chest tightened, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Instead, he tightened his hold on Orion slightly, letting the warmth of the glow seep into his skin.
“You’re insufferable,” Draco muttered, though his voice was softer than usual.
Orion chuckled, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And yet, here you are.”
Draco didn’t respond, staring down at the faint glow between them. The warmth of it, the intimacy of it, was disarming in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
But as Orion’s breathing evened out, his weight settling more heavily against Draco, the Slytherin found himself unable to care. For once, he let himself enjoy the quiet, the warmth, and the strange comfort of having Orion this close.
Time passed realatively easy. The room stayed quiet except for the soft crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of Orion’s breathing.
Draco lay back against the pillows, still half propped up, with Orion resting against his chest. The faint glow beneath their skin was stronger now, spreading where their bodies touched—along Draco’s arm, across his side, and even where Orion’s fingers loosely rested on Draco’s thigh.
Draco tried not to focus on it, tried not to think about how the warmth of Orion’s magic seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. But it was impossible to ignore, especially when he noticed something else: Orion was breathing more easily now, his color slowly returning.
Draco frowned, his mind working furiously.
“Orion,” he said softly, not wanting to startle him if he was asleep.
Orion stirred slightly, his glowing eyes fluttering open. “Hmm?”
Draco hesitated before speaking. “You’re feeling better.”
Orion smiled faintly, his voice still quiet but noticeably stronger. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Draco’s frown deepened. “It’s because of this, isn’t it? The glow. The contact.”
Orion shifted slightly to look up at him, his expression unreadable. “It helps,” he admitted after a moment. “A lot more than I thought it would.”
Draco’s breath hitched. “So, what… my magic’s somehow boosting yours?”
“Not exactly,” Orion said, his voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and amusement. “It’s not about your magic. It’s about you.”
“Me?” Draco repeated, his brows furrowing.
“Your presence,” Orion clarified, his glowing eyes locking with Draco’s. “It’s grounding. Calming. My magic responds to it—draws strength from it. The longer we’re touching, the more balanced I feel.”
Draco stared at him, the pieces falling into place. “You’re telling me… I’m like a magical battery for you?”
Orion chuckled softly, though the sound was warm rather than mocking. “Not a battery. More like a… stabilizer. My magic burns too brightly sometimes, and it takes a toll on me. Being close to you levels it out. It’s like my magic can finally rest.”
Draco’s heart raced as he processed Orion’s words. “And you didn’t think to mention this sooner?”
“I wasn’t sure it would work,” Orion admitted, his tone soft. “This isn’t exactly something I’ve experienced before. It’s… new.”
Draco swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the glowing spots where their skin touched. He could feel the warmth of it, the steady hum of Orion’s magic settling into something calmer, steadier.
“And now?” Draco asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Now?” Orion’s lips curved into a faint smile, his gaze soft. “Now I know for sure. You make me stronger, Malfoy. In more ways than one.”
Draco’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he tightened his hold on Orion slightly, his hand brushing against the other man’s shoulder.
“You’re insufferable,” Draco muttered, though there was no heat in his voice.
Orion’s smile widened, the glow beneath their skin brightening faintly. “And yet, here you are.”
Draco huffed, looking away, but he didn’t move. The steady warmth of Orion’s magic, combined with the weight of his presence, was strangely comforting.
And if Draco’s touch was the key to helping Orion heal, he wasn’t going anywhere.