The way back

That morning, when Draco felt his skin prickle, he chugged all the pills he had left in his bottle. It was only when they clearly didn’t work did he make the choice to see the healer. He’d thought it was an accident. That they were trying to overcharge him again. That they’d messed up the medications and given him the wrong pills. Even after everything he’d lived through, every way he’d hurt other people, he never stopped to consider if someone would hurt him.

He supposed he was thankful to Harry. Saving Draco from his naivete. Maybe all the aurors, but he wasn’t thinking about them. It was only Harry. Harry who’d tried to hide his alpha behind polyjuice and scent blockers but he couldn’t stop it from crawling under Draco’s skin. Harry, whose eyes tracked Draco’s every movement, stalking him even though he didn’t understand why. Harry, who hadn’t put two and two together yet and realized what it was about Draco that drove him wild. Made him obsessive. The same obsession that kept Harry’s eyes on Draco all throughout sixth year. Even then, when his father had the means to buy the best heat suppressants that never, ever failed.

Draco flickered out his tongue, licking his lips. Trying to remember Weasley’s question. He still had time. The fever was here, but he had time. If he kept his head, didn’t give anything away, didn’t touch the gifts Harry offered, they’d let him go home. Home to ride out his first heat, all alone. All alone without…

Harry was touching him. Large, thick fingers wrapped around Draco’s slim ones. A balm to Draco’s fever. It felt so good. It felt like Draco dreamed touching Harry would feel like, all those nights alone and frightened. After his father’s red-rimmed pupils glared at him in anger, and Voldermort’s bloot-shot snake eyes warned of what would happen if anyone found out what he was. When alpha rage boiled around him and Draco wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and whimper.

He’d known Harry wouldn’t rage. He’d known. Harry brushed at Draco’s knuckles, soothed the heat in his blood. He murmured sweet words. Kind words. His sharp scent, cinnamon and pine, tasted like the warm parts of winter. Every piece of Draco that Harry wasn’t touching boiled. He imagined how good it would feel if Harry would just touch him more.

Then Draco did it. Draco had kept his head long enough to say all the words he needed to say, on Veritaserum no less. Maybe his father would have been proud of him for once, if he were alive and Draco hadn’t failed in all the ways that really mattered. Still, he did it. He made it. He’d be able to leave. He’d be able to go home alone all on his own without…

No. No. No. Harry was leaving.

Weasley was standing up, which Draco hardly noticed, because all his attention was on Harry getting to his feet as well. Pulling back until he was too far away for Draco’s bound hands to cling to. The cool relief of Harry’s fingers torn from Draco’s hands, leaving behind pins and needles and a gaping panic that Draco would never have what he needed ever again.

How could he be leaving? Didn’t he want Draco? Wasn’t Draco good enough for him? Hadn’t Draco done everything he asked for? Didn’t he know Draco would do more? He’d do more. Please let him do more. Come back, Harry. Come back. Please.

Draco didn’t know if he was babbling the words or just keening softly in desperation. He needed Harry to come back. He needed it. If Harry didn’t come back the warm scents would fade and leave Draco adrift. If Harry didn’t come back Draco would be left with all the other people, who smelled like charcoal and snakes, or dead and rotting things in Draco’s cellars.

Tears prickled at the edges of Draco’s eyes. It hurt so bad not to have Harry touching him. It hurt so bad to see Harry able to turn his back, like Draco was nothing to him. A harsh correction in Draco’s mind that the glass of water hadn’t been a mating gift. Harry’s touch hadn’t been a proposition. Draco’s body actually spasmed from the pain of rejection. Every piece of him was damp with sweat. He should have thrown himself at Harry when he had the chance. Smothered him with his hidden omega scent. Awakened the alpha in Harry, made his blood boil hot like Draco’s so he would need…

Draco felt the first trickle of slick escape his body. The heat he’d kept at bay for years finally arriving. He squeezed himself tight as if that could stop it. He buried his face against his arms on the table as he groaned.

Draco ached. He ached from the loss of Harry’s touch, from being rejected by a potential mate, but more than anything he ached from an emptiness he’d never before experienced. Places in him spasmed, wanting to be filled, leaking and twitching in ways that he couldn’t satisfy on his own. Draco feared the pain, but he feared more how his body would give in to anyone who offered satisfaction. The only distinction between the cocks that might ram into Draco was whether he’d be blessed by one of them having a knot. The very thought of it had Draco’s ass clenching eagerly. Alphas were uncommon, but the aurors had more than their fair share in their ranks. Surely they’d fight past the betas for the chance to fuck an omega. Draco couldn’t stop imagining it. Strong alphas with battering ram cocks taking their fill. He groaned again as he pictured men taking advantage of him being tied down to the table. He needed it. Even as he yanked on his bonds. Draco was terrified he couldn’t run. He was terrified that it wouldn’t take long for the need to overwhelm him until his mind broke. He didn’t know how long they’d need to leave him there for him to crawl up on the table in the desperate hope he could twist his hands enough to jam fingers up his ass for relief.

The sharp spice of cinnamon cut through Draco’s despair. His mouth watered for it. He pulled his head up, ready to face the despair of Harry being gone forever, taking the smell with him.

Only Harry wasn’t gone. He was right there, standing on his own in front of a closed door.

Laying eyes on the alpha, with his red-rimmed eyes and stony stair, was enough for more slick to gush out. Draco couldn’t bite back his whimper. He shifted on the chair, embarrassed of his wet pants and rock hard erection.

Harry hadn’t left. It was almost enough to make Draco cry.

Draco didn’t dare look away from Harry even for a moment. He tried his hardest not even to blink. He watched hawk-like as Harry stalked forward, circling around the room and the table Draco was chained to. Harry’s mouth was parted to let him breathe in Draco’s taste. Occasionally Harry’s nose would flare to let in a purer scent. Each time that happened sped up Harry’s breathing. It should have terrified Draco, and maybe it did, but Draco’s instincts weren’t to hide. Instead he shifted his body back and forth, letting clothes bunch together and reveal skin at his wrists and his waist. Draco’s eyes watched Harry’s movements, and every twist of his head to keep Harry in his sight also revealed more of Draco’s pale neck.

Harry circled behind Draco. Draco sobbed when he lost sight of him. It was irrational fear that twisting to look the other way wouldn’t be enough. Harry would be gone, like everyone else Draco had ever relied on. Draco was shaking so hard the chains rattled, twisting every which way to try to bring Harry back, when the cooling touch stroked over his scalp. Gods. The feel of Harry touching him was everything. Draco melted into it.

Draco’s eyes were half closed in the bliss of Harry carding his fingers through Draco’s silver blonde hair. The groan it elicited was deep and guttural. Harry was close enough Draco could hear his breath catch at the sound. Harry buried a second hand into Draco’s locks and Draco couldn’t help but lean his head into the touch. The hands paused only briefly. Then Harry’s fingers curled into fists, gripping Draco’s hair tight. Draco arched his neck backwards against the pull, showing off the entirety of his jugular.

“Gods,” Harry breathed, “Oh gods, Draco.”

Draco fluttered his eyes open to look up at a flushed Harry. The alpha red circle in his eyes was so bright Draco thought it might glow. Harry held himself so taunt, like he was afraid what he might do if he relaxed even a little.

He was so fucking powerful. So fucking hot. “Alpha!” Draco groaned. This time when Draco strained it was against his bonds in an attempt to rub himself against Harry.

Harry was all tension when Draco pressed his face against Harry’s abdomen. It was instinct that drove Draco to rub his face against the other man, rutting around for a way under Harry’s shirt to reach the blissful touch of skin. The hands in Draco’s hair pulled tighter but it wasn’t enough to hold Draco back. Not when Draco’s nose was buried into the scent of pine and cinnamon. His tongue flickered out and tasted it on cotton. He shifted an inch lower and flicked his tongue again, finding the thinnest patch of skin.

Harry hissed. He tried again to pull Draco back by the hair but Draco ignored the pain and dived deeper. His tongue skirted over skin. Flicked downward to dip into the line of Harry’s trousers. The taste was stronger. It took a full minute for Draco’s mind to realize what his body knew - the taste and smell battering against all of Draco’s senses was Harry’s arousal. Harry wanted him. Harry needed him. Harry had stopped trying to pull him away, and was now using the fingers holding Draco’s head to angle him so he could dip lower and mouth against the bulge in Harry’s trousers. It was so big. Alpha big. As big as Draco imagined and hoped for. Big enough to beg for. To worship. To suck on and slobber over through denim so that Draco’s alpha knew how good Draco would be if he’d only gift Draco with that glorious cock.

Harry was moaning, panting, stuttering over the words, “Draco, Draco, Draco!”

“Please alpha!” Draco moaned as he rubbed his cheek against Harry’s bulge.

Harry pulled on Draco again, this time dislodging the smaller man from his erection. Draco mewed his objection and Harry shuddered. “Fuck.” One gruff word that sounded precariously close to losing control.

“Please alpha!” Draco cried again.

Harry squeezed hard enough against Draco’s hair that it hurt. “My name’s Harry,” he growled.

“Alpha!” Draco sobbed, not having heard.

There was a long pause where Harry panted and Draco cried big crocodile tears. “Fuck.” Gruffer, but resolute.

The hands gentled against Draco’s scalp. They began to stroke again, offering calming touches to gentle Draco. Draco once again leaned fully against Harry’s body. He was surprised when Harry stepped forward, into him. This time, Harry guided Draco so that his cheek and ear pressed up against Harry’s belly. Harry continued to stroke Draco’s hair until Draco calmed against him. Once Draco settled, Harry reached one hand out further to touch the shackles at Draco’s wrists. Draco heard Harry speak an encantation and the shackles opened. Draco’s head was so fuzzy it still took until Harry pulled Draco’s arms out of the metal for Draco to realize he’d been freed.

It was Harry who gasped at the red welts Draco had worn into his wrists by yanking so hard against his binds. Draco would have ignored the pain as he had been doing and instead reached for more of Harry’s skin. He tried to do just that. Harry intercepted him. Harry released Draco’s head entirely in order to oh so carefully take up both of Draco’s wrists. Gently, Harry wrapped his fingers around Draco as if his own hold would replace that of the shackles. Even that touch was jarring against Draco’s sensitive flesh, but Harry’s touch was such a balm Draco didn’t care. He’d let Harry do anything. Even lift up one wrist at a time to his lips and pepper it with kisses and gentle whispers of episkey. The healing magic chased the welts away.

“Alpha,” this time it was a plea. The feel of Harry’s caresses were maddening, his gentle kindness uncomprehending. Draco needed to give back in kind. Needed to make his alpha feel just a fraction of the warm gooey bliss he was giving Draco.

“Harry,” was the fierce correction.

Draco tried to comprehend the word. It should be simple. He knew the name of his alpha. He knew everything about his alpha. Draco had wanted him for years. His alpha was perfect. The bravest. The strongest. The kindest. And he was letting Draco cling to him. Letting Draco reach his newly healed arms up to run fingers through his alpha’s hair, gasping at the fresh feeling of his alpha’s soothing skin. Draco wrapped an arm around the back of his alpha’s neck, lamenting the limitations of that touch. Too much clothes blocking skin. He needed his clothes off. All of them off right now.

Draco pulled back just far enough to pull at his shirt buttons. Shaky fingers struggled with such a basic task and Draco almost cried again that he didn’t have the talent to wandlessly vanish his clothes all together.

A new and sudden fear crashed into Draco. Harry had demonstrated his ability for wandless magic over and over again, but Draco wasn’t capable. His alpha would see that Draco was a weak and useless omega. His alpha wouldn’t want him. Not for more than a heat-driven fuck.

Draco would still fuck him though. He’d eagerly fuck him. He needed to fuck him. Draco started clawing at his clothes, tearing the buttons off to get them out of the way. He was agonizing hot and if he could only get these off it would be better. Then his alpha would touch him and he could forget everything but the feel of skin on skin and the mind blowing ecstasy of finally being full.

Harry intercepted Draco again, pulling Draco’s hands from the clothing they were ripping through. Harry clung to Draco’s hands, interlocking their fingers to keep Draco’s hands still. His nostrils flared to scent the air but he didn’t look pleased with its flavor. He let go of one hand so he could reach again to comb through Draco’s hair. It was still soothing, but Draco was so hot. He needed to touch more. So when Harry leaned in closer, his nose flaring again to breathe Draco in at the source, Draco twisted his head so their noses touched. Draco leaned more, so half his face glided against Harry’s, cool pleasure sparking over every sensitive speck of skin.

It was Harry who lost it. His grip tighten from pleasant to painful and he yanked Draco until he was perfectly angled for Harry’s kiss. All the sweetness was gone before their lips touched. Harry heaved against Draco, all force and teeth and tongue that left Draco arching against him and groaning out his pleasure. Draco lifted his free hand to claw into Harry’s hair and down the back of his neck. He released his wet slick again, soaking his trousers down to his thighs. If only his alpha would rip the trousers off. Rip everything off. Throw Draco over the table and spread his ass open to be pummeled.

It was Harry who came to his senses. He gasped as he pulled back from Draco. He was blinking fast and panting, pushing Draco’s hands back into Draco’s lap while he tried to stand straight and pull away.

Draco had to pull the squelching wet cloth off the chair to stand up, but that was nothing for the chance to kiss Harry again. Draco could see how Harry considered for a moment holding Draco back once more, but then Harry gave in and let Draco come to him. Harry’s mouth was parted when Draco locked lips with him once more, licking his way into Harry's soft mouth like it was the most magical thing in the world.

It wasn’t. The most magical thing in the world was the hard length pressed up against Draco’s hip, which Harry was trying very, very hard not to rut. Draco had no such qualms. He reached his hands around Harry’s waist, thumbing up under Harry’s shirt, and clung to him and he canted his hips to rub against Harry’s erection. Pleasure pierced Draco’s senses. He’d forgotten in everything how fucking hard he was, right up until he dragged his cock against Harry’s. Too many layers of clothes couldn’t stop it from blowing Draco’s mind.

“Alpha!” Draco couldn’t help but cry it out.

Harry growled out frustration and anguish. He wrapped both hands around Draco’s face to pull him back from the kiss, even as Draco continued to grind their lengths together and Harry couldn’t help but thrust back into the sensations. It would feel better if they were naked. If their cocks could be held together while they thrust, or if Harry would just spin Draco around and plunge into his leaking hole. Harry’s body was strung tight with the effort not to do it.

“Alpha! Alpha!” The words sounded like begging. They sounded like prayers. Draco would pray to him, if that’s what it took. He had prayed, to all the gods he ever knew, and for once they’d blessed him. They’d brought him his alpha.

With an echoing blast, the entire world shifted under Draco’s feet. The sound resonated through Draco’s skin, left him shaking. Then he spun. His alpha had lifted him up and slammed him back against a wall, the alpha putting his own body between Draco and the noise.

Draco was still pushed up against the hard lines of his alpha. He wanted to be closer. He lifted one leg and wrapped it as best he could around the larger man, finding the angle that gave his arousal ample space to continue thrusting against his alpha’s matched hardness. He felt his alpha’s harsh breath on his ear and he moved to stimulate them both.

Another blast came. Harder and louder than the first, magic in a way that echoed in your bones instead of your ears. His alpha shifted again, so he could face the door where the magic pounded. His wand was out and pointed, his spare arm clutched Draco painfully close. Draco clutched him back, uncomprehending of anything but the need to rut against whatever he could reach and run his lips across the stretch of his alpha’s neck left open to him to chase relief.

His alpha was casting spells. Protego and colloportus. Defensive barriers to keep the blasts out. He took his eyes off the door for a moment to check on Draco, the turn of his neck causing Draco to pull back and look up. “I won’t let them take you,” His alpha promised. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Draco whispered it like a promise.

The arm clutching him tightened. His alpha turned back to him, shoving him harder against the wall before shoving a leg in between Draco’s. His alpha reached down and grabbed one of Draco’s legs, lifting it and wrapping it around his waist. Then with Draco held wide open the alpha thrust full and hard. “Mine,” he growled. He thrust again and Draco’s eyes rolled back. “All mine.” He lifted Draco’s other leg and suddenly he was holding Draco under his wet, sticky ass. The alpha had all the leverage to grind forward, fronting against the omega as if totally aware of how close Draco was to losing control.

“Alpha!” Draco begged, all other words lost to him. “Alpha!”

The alpha - Harry, he wanted Draco to call him Harry - nuzzled against Draco, all the way to Draco’s neck to reach the scent of him.

The alpha - Harry, Draco knew he was Harry - buried his nose into where neck met shoulder. Right up against the sensitive spot of the mating gland.

The alpha - Harry, Draco could never feel this way about anyone but Harry - flickered out his tongue over the gland. A wet, promising touch that made Draco curl his toes and squeal.

Then a blast stronger than anything that ever attacked inside the ministry broke through all of Harry’s shields. And the pulse of it mixed with the feel of Harry grinding his cock against Draco’s, and the wet tongue promising mate mate mate mate mate.

Draco’s eyes rolled back in delirium as he came.