There's only us now

~•*•~

Harry Potter

~•*•~

Harry needed to get a grip. He had been caught staring at Malfoy not once, not twice, but three times in the last 24 hours. 

Harry's eyes snapped back to his plate as Ron went on about his annoyance with school. Part of him thought he saw Malfoy's lips purse as if he was holding back a smile, but Harry didn't dare dwell on it. He has to share a room with guy for Merlin's sake. He couldn't just stare at him every chance he got. 

A little voice in the back of Harry's head would disagree, but if there was one thing harry had learned, it was that the voices were not your friend. Yes, Voldemort was dead, but he lived in Harry for years, whispering to him, influencing him. Harry suppressed a shudder as the hairs on his arm stood up at the thought. All he could do was pray Hermione didn't notice. 

Luck wasn't on his side.

"Harry," Hermione said, her tone caring and almost motherly, "Are you ok?"

He looked up at her, suddenly feeling very nauseous. A moment later, he nodded and forced a tight-lipped smile. Harry glanced around the room, overcome by a sense of panic. 

This is why he hated the great hall. 

As he looked around in a vain attempt to ground himself, he noticed all the faces that were missing. Not only eighth years, but teachers and a few of the younger students to. Maybe he didn't know the students personally, but he had seen their parents, maybe even seen them. They fought for him and now they were dead. The guilt mixed with the panic as Harry 's breaths became shallow. He looked up at Hermione.

"I'm, I'm gonna head to bed" Harry said as he rose from the table. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed and Ron stopped mid bite.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, food just inches from hustling mouth.

Harry just nodded.

"Harry you almost never hang out with us anymore" Hermione said, a sad tone to her voice. Harry wanted to scream. Wanted to remind her how he'd fallen to the wayside countless times. He understood why but she couldn't be mad at him for this. He didn't say any of this though. He wanted to have this fight, just not in the great hall. Just not when he was seconds from screaming or crying or both. 

"Mione," Harry said, forcing his voice to be steady, "I don't feel good, I just want to sleep. I'll go to madam Pomfrey if it gets worse, I promise" Lie. Harry forced a smile and left , not leaving any room for Hermione or Ron to argue. If he had said another word, he would've broken.

  Harry tried to keep his eyes forward, but he could only do so much. His eyes roamed the eighth year table, another wave of panic threatened to over take him. Harry felt like he was about to faint, he was losing the very thin layer of control he had over himself the longer he stayed. Just as he was about to tear his eyes away and practically sprint out the great hall, someone caught his eye.

Draco Malfoy, because when was it not him.

Maybe harry had been subconsciously looking for him. Maybe he hadn't. It didn't matter. Harry cursed himself and his lack of self control as steel gray eyes piercing into his own. 

 There it was, the stare. The one that made harry feel as though he was naked. 

 Harry ripped his gaze away from the blonde and tried his best to calmly walk out of the hall. The walk back to his dorm was a blur. He might of shoved some people, maybe bumped into them, he didn't know. He didn't feel like he was in control of his body, he felt like he was just watching everything happen. 

This wasn't the first time this had happened. No, the first time had been just two weeks after the war.  

Harry had been in Diagon Alley, picking something up. He'd went during the busiest time of the day, not thinking anything of it. As he stepped out of one of the shops, the walk way was cramped, people were barely able to move. 

It was there, trapped between strangers, that Harry Potter first broke. 

Fear had tangled around his body, whispering lies- maybe truths- feeding his paranoia. He had to pull himself into a dark alley and take a few breaths. He was fine for some time, but then that time was over. The second wave had washed over him just as he was about to grab the something he had came for. He'd put it back and hurried out of the shop.

He wasn't in control of his body for a whole day after that. The only thing that snapped him out of it was when he tripped and slammed his face into the edge of one of the stairs. There had been blood, he had broken his nose. He was able to heal it quickly, like it never happened.

That was the day Harry learned that the only way to get back in control was pain.

For the most part, it was little things that brought him back. Stubbing his toe, cracking his knees just a bit too hard, biting his tongue. There were a few times, however, where these things weren't enough. The things that brought him back from these episodes often left Harry wondering if he should see a healer, though he never did. Things like slicing his leg open, practically ripping off his skin, and, in one instance, getting punched in the face repeatedly. 

Harry wanted to be the savior, the chosen one, the hero. He wanted to please everyone, show that he was strong and worthy of the names. He pretended to be perfectly fine after the war, not telling a single soul what was happening. Ron had almost found out once, and Harry had pissed him off so much that He punched him, and in his rage forgot the original conversation. Not his proudest moment.

Harry practically threw himself into his bed when he got to his dorm. His mind hazily ran through the possibilities. Maybe this was an easy episode, maybe he could bite his tongue and it'd be over. And so he did. Harry tasted the blood before he felt the heat, the wound humming while his senses dulled the pain he needed.

It wasn't over.

He cursed himself for thinking it would be easy, trying to figure out his next approach. Harry knew he couldn't let himself wait it out till an accident happened, he had school and expectations and meetings. Merlin he hated the meetings. He could hurt himself on purpose, but would he be able to compose himself, heal, and clean before Malfoy came back?

Malfoy

Fuck. 

Draco Malfoy had, for whatever reason, been one of the only things on Harry's mind for the past week. It hadn't started with him helping Harry with Potions, but that had certainly made it worse. Harry wasn't entirely sure when - or how- it started, and he had no interest in diving down that rabbit hole at the moment. 

Harry tried to focus, but panic seized him a third time. It took him by surprise, hitting him like a train. The wind seemed to run from his lungs. He couldn't snap himself out of it, not without letting people-Malfoy-  know what was happening. All Harry could do was curl himself into a ball and wait.

~•*•~

Draco Malfoy

~•*•~

Draco hadn't been thinking when he said a quick goodnight to his friends and raced after Potter. He probably had stopped thinking when Draco made eye contact with him, green eyes filled with panic. Draco had never seen Potter like that. Potter was the confident, brave, jock- the chosen one. Maybe he struggled with potions but he didn't panic. But Draco saw it, the panic.

His friends may have called after him, he didn't know. Draco blocked out everything as he raced up the stairs to the eighth year common room, he said the password so fast the portrait almost didn't understand him. 

He was grateful for the empty common room as he ran up the steps, to his dorm, to Potter.

Draco finally started thinking when he got to the door. He hesitated, what was he doing?! If he didnt want Granger, Potter certainly wouldn't want him. Draco almost turned around. Almost sat down in the common room. Almost ignored the ache in his chest that always seemed to appear when ever Potter was in trouble, like the day he didn't identify him. But Draco didn't turn around. He forced himself to open the door, forced himself to walk to Potter's bed.

"Hey" Draco said, in a tone so soft and caring he almost didn't recognize it as his own voice. 

Then , Draco saw him.

There Potter was curled up in a ball , shaking. The only sounds Draco heard were ragged breaths that may have been sobs. Draco sat down next to the brunettes shaking body, rubbing circles on his back. Potter didn't look at Draco, but he tensed.

"Malfoy, what," Potter's voice was raw and broken as he spoke, "what are you doing" 

Draco held back his typical witty retorts. He wouldn't do that to Potter, not while he was like this. 

"I'm here for you , Potter. You practically ran out of the great hall, I was-" The words died in Draco's throat. He was worried. Draco Malfoy was worried about Harry Potter. 

"Fuck, could, could everyone tell?" Potter asked, still not looking at Draco. 

"No, I think I was the only one" Draco said, maybe it was a lie. To Draco, the panic was so obvious, but Draco had lived with panic. Maybe to an outsider, he just looked sick. 

"Good" Potter choked out, and Draco felt his body relax.

"What happened?" Draco said, but he wanted to ask so many other questions. 

"If," Harry sighed, "If I tell you, you have to promise me not to tell anyone" Draco nodded, then realized Potter wasn't looking. So he quickly followed with a hushed 'of course.'

A moment passed, then two, and Draco worried if Potter wouldn't tell him, but then he started talking.

"It started two, two weeks after the war," and Harry told him everything. He spoke quickly, like if he talked any slower he'd run out of time, or he'd forget. Draco nodded, humming when a response felt appropriate. Harry told him about the first broken nose, about the times when all it took was a bit lip or a paper cut. Then harry told him about the other times.

The time he scratched his legs so hard, for so long, that his skin started tearing off.

The time he sliced his thigh open on purpose because he had to meet with someone that day and couldn't let anyone see him like that.

The time he taunted Ron into punching him so many times he'd lost count just so he would loose his thoughts to the rage. 

And Draco listened. He tried not to show how horrified he was that The chosen one was had been harming himself just to keep up appearances. 

By the time Harry had finished, Draco honestly felt like crying, but he held himself together. 

"What can I do to help, Harry" The question came out before he could stop it, before he could think about why he had called Potter Harry. 

Harry looked up at Draco for the first time that night, his eyes were bloodshot, faces streaked with tears, and a streak of dried blood spilled out of the right side of his mouth. 

'He already tried to fix it' was the thought that crossed Dracos mind when he saw the blood.

"This episode is a bad one, I assume" Harry simply nodded in return.

"I need you to," Harry closed his eyes, as if trying to slow his thoughts, "I need you to hurt me."  The request didn't surprise Draco so much as worried him, what did Harry really want him to do? 

"How?" Draco asked. A moment of silence passed as Harry thought.

"Punching works, but it takes a few to get me out," by a few he meant 10, and Draco doubted he had the strength to cause enough pain. A thought struck through Draco's head. It was something he'd wanted to do before, maybe 5th year, maybe 6th. Was it probably a bad idea? Yes. Would it work? Maybe. But Draco had no other ideas.

"Would biting work?" Harry stilled and Draco worried for a moment that he had done something wrong. Only for a moment.

"I don't know, maybe." Harry looked at Draco with those Green eyes that Draco loathed for so many years. He nodded.

Slowly, Harry unfurled and pushed himself so he was leaning up against the head board. He laid his head to the side, stretching his neck, an invitation. Draco swallowed and repositioned himself so he was straddling Harrys hips. The position alone was a bad idea, but was he was going to do next was even worse. 

Draco looked at harry one last time, confirming that this was okay.  

Harry nodded

So, Draco leaned forward, before he could reasoned his way out of it. He licked a stripe up Harry's neck. He knew that he wasn't supposed to do that, but it felt right.

It felt even more right when he heard Harry let out a groan.

Draco hovered over the spot for barely a moment, letting the situation seep into his bones, committing it to memory. 

Then he closed the distance.

Harry let out a yelp as Draco's teeth sunk into the junction between his shoulder and neck. Blood began to pool on the wound, and Draco, who had at some point devolved into doing what ever felt right, licked it off. The taste of the blood was euphoric, the look of it on Harry's tan skin was even better.

"Again?" Draco asked, needing to know if he'd gone to far.

"Yes" Harry's voice was raspy and thick, laced with something that Draco tried not to read into. 

So Draco complied,  biting again and again. When he ran out of  space he moved to the other side. Harry sat there, not just letting him, but telling him to continue. Instructing him, and Draco listened to every command. 

Maybe Draco wasn't supposed to listen. His father would have had a heart attack at the thought of Draco being so pliant, and that made Draco want to listen more.

After what could have been hours or just a few minutes, Draco lifted himself so he could look at Harry. He saw no panic in the gorgeous green eyes before him. Draco saw a new emotion, one that had laced his voice as well. But Draco didn't want to read into things. Make things up that weren't there.

"You feel better?" Draco said between breaths. Harry nodded, but he wasn't looking at Draco's eyes. Draco looked down he saw blood stains on the collar of his shirt and, though he wasn't completely sure, he had a guess as to what made Harry so entranced. Draco accio'ed his mirror, a silver hand-held with ornate designs of dragons, and looked at himself. 

His guess was correct.

Draco's mouth was covered in blood, streams of it had cascaded down his neck staining his shirt collar. Draco glanced back down at Harry, still staring at his neck.

The chosen one liked blood, his own blood, painting Draco's neck. As if punctuating Draco's thought, Harry groaned. Then he grabbed Draco's shirt and pulled him closer.

  Draco didn't stop Harry when he began licking the blood off his collar bone, then his neck. Gasps and small moans poured from Draco, who in any other situation would have been embarrassed. As Harry made it to his chin, Draco wondered what he would do when he got to his mouth. A moment later he got his answer.

Harry kissed Draco, then ran his tongue across Draco lips, groaning as he tasted the blood. Draco whimpered as Harry worked, letting him do as he pleased. Then Harry kissed him, his tongue exploring Draco's mouth, no doubt tasting the blood. Harry pulled away a minute later, panting with half lidded eyes. 

Draco looked at his work, the bite marks spread across Harry's neck and chest. He ran his finger over the skin, tracing the marks.

"Fuck, Draco" Harry whispered and Draco felt pride bloom in his chest at the implication that he did well. 

Draco reluctantly climbed off harry, grabbing his wand to help heal the bite marks. Just as he was about to start, Harry stopped him. 

"Leave the ones that'll be hidden under my shirt" Draco nodded. In the morning hed'd tease and argue, but now he wanted to listen. 

After Draco had healed the visible ones, he headed to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face. As harry walked in, Draco thought about showering but couldn't fight the exhaustion. Just as he was about to climb into his own bed, he saw Harry. He was shirtless, the remaining marks on full display, and had on grey sweatpants. Despite everything that screamed at Draco not to go, he walked over to Harry. Harry looked up at him, waiting. 

"Can we," Draco felt stupid but he didn't stop himself, "Can we cuddle?" The question was so quiet, Harry almost didn't hear it, but he did. He nodded, fully climbing into bed as he left space for Draco to lay. Draco crawled in next to him, their limbs tangling. 

Tomorrow, Draco would go back to Malfoy and Harry back to Potter. Tomorrow Draco would deal with the the possible questions about it compliance. Tomorrow, Harry would deal with the bites and the choice to leave some. But that was for tomorrow. Right now was all that mattered to the sleeping boys. Right now they were at peace.