Chapter 29
The entire school knows Harry is conscious within fifteen minutes. Ronald and Hermione suggest they floo back down to their room and sneak out that way, but when Draco and Harry attempt they hear the fists pounding down on their own door.
Draco hurriedly flattens his hair down before turning his attention on Harry who didn’t look any different from usual. Damn, his chronic bedhead. He tries to flatten Harry's hair down anymore, more out of spite than necessity.
Harry has the audacity to watch him with a look of amusement. Draco huffs and turns to face the door.
“You’re so pretty,” Harry says smiling widely, “Melin, I love telling you that, look at you.”
Draco’s tempted to check if he’s gone pink, but instead, he takes a deep breath and opens the doors to the flood of children.
“Professor Potter?” Jamie Smoul asks.
Otis Juniper looks between Harry and Draco with narrowed eyes before saying, “I heard you were dead.”
“Otis you can’t just say shit like that,” Smoul admonishes, “Plus he’s very obviously alive.”
Harry laughs, “Language Ms. Smoul.”
“Professor Potter needs something to eat, so you best get wherever you’re needed,” Draco shoos them away, “I know for a fact today is a Gryffindor day for the pitch, Ms. Foster,”
***
Harry hadn’t even realized he was hungry until he walked into the kitchens and it occurred to him he hadn’t eaten in five days. The scents were nearly overwhelming after spending so long in that stupid white void.
He immediately goes for a treacle tart which Draco immediately takes from him, instead sliding a plate full of chicken, mashed potatoes, and brussel spouts in its place. Harry sighs but eats it anyway. Draco returns the treacle tart after Harry had downed nearly three cups of water.
“I was so worried,” Draco stares forward, “You didn’t move, you didn’t eat, she said you didn’t need to but-”
Harry takes Draco into his arms, “I’m sorry Draco.”
“It’s not your fault,” Draco says.
“I am so sorry.” Harry can feel the dampness forming on his shoulder.
***
Draco can’t help but lean as far into Harry as he can. There’s something comforting about him being… There. The warm, solid press of Harry's body into his own. Draco never wanted to leave. Harry didn’t seem eager to force him either, allowing them to sink to the floor and have Draco sit between his legs.
“Harry,” Draco whispers.
“Yes, love?” Harry asks, pressing his own face into the top of Draco’s head.
Draco doesn’t have an answer, he just needs to say it. To know he can respond.
“Harry.”
Harry seems to understand, “I’ve got you, love.”
They sit like that for a long time. Long enough Mcgonagal walks into the kitchen.
“Gentlemen?” Draco can hear the raise of the eyebrow through her tone, he can feel Harry shake his head, “I’ll collect my biscuits and leave you to it, may I suggest heading back to your own rooms however, students are prone to wandering in.”
“Alright, Professor,” Harry responds with a nod, “Sorry, Headmistress.”
“It’s alright Harry,” She says and Draco hears a tin scrape across the surface of a table somewhere else in the room before her steps start distancing themselves.
A few moments after she leaves, Harry says into his hair, “She is right,”
“But this is lovely,” Draco objects quietly.
“It’ll be lovelier in our bed with spirited away, love” Harry offers softly.
Draco sighs and allows himself to be hoisted to his feet and guided to the door. They separate slightly when they reach the door.
***
Draco falls asleep on his bicep twenty minutes into the movie and Harry barely feels his arm going numb. How could he when Draco’s getting what looks like much-needed rest. He knows students are crowding his door, but with all the wards Harry’s placed on the door for this specific purpose Harry can’t even hear them. He can, however, hear a million dull whispers whenever he lets his brain wander without any specific direction.
For the most part, he can keep them out, but when he lets his focus drift to that in between place he hears it. Thousands of words in a language that, as far as he can tell, no one else can hear. It feels like second year all over again when the basilisk was roaming the school, except this time no one was accusing him of being a dark wizard.
Draco shifts a little on his bicep and Harry takes the slight shift and turns it into an opening to numb his arm. As soon as the pressure is relieved Harry slowly drifts off.
***
When Draco wakes up it's around four in the morning. The movie has long since stopped playing, the laptop dead and thrown carelessly to the side. Harry had moved his body to curve around Dracos one of his hands sliding under his shirt and a leg thrown over his hip.
Harry’s thumb was making gentle circular motions over the top of his ribs which in any other circumstance would be wonderful. Not in this one though. Not when it was making him so painfully hard.
Now if possible he would completely just climb out of bed and enjoy the wonderful stream of cold water. However, as of now, a massive man was wrapped around him and Draco had no desire to alert this man of his situation.
Unfortunately, the situation was not getting better anytime soon, in fact, it seemed to be getting worse as Draco felt Harry’s muscular thighs flex around his hip. If Draco was a rational man he'd think about his father in lacy knickers and pray.
Draco does not want to be rational anymore.
Why would he when he can feel his cock straining against his trousers, precum soaking the front of his pants.
Draco wiggles as subtly as possible out of Harry's grip and into the bathroom and strips before turns on the shower, stepping directly underneath the spray before it even starts to warm up.
When this does nothing for Draco’s poor leaking cock, he gives in and turns the water to an alarmingly warm temperature and sighs beneath the spray.
Allowing his hand to drift to his dick he starts to imagine it was Harry doing this to him. Harry's handing taking his dick in his hand. Harry's hand making long slow pulls, smearing pre-cum around the head of his cock. Harry's lips pressing into his neck. Harry's body, a damp, steady pressure on his own.
Draco has to bite his hand in an attempt not to cry out as he speeds his hand up to a vigorous pace. He knows he's making some debauched noises, but he can't help it when the images his mind is conjuring are absolutely sinful.
He cums into his hand moments later before rinsing himself off.