Chapter 5
Draco wakes the next morning as a soft glow lightens the inside of the tent. He starts to move as he opens his eyes, immediately freezing as he realizes that Harry is still very much asleep beside him. His hand still rests in Harry’s, having not left that position throughout the night. Draco settles back down, simply looking across the pile of blankets to where Harry lays, admiring the way the dim sunlight illuminates his features gently.
A stray hair falls on Harry’s face, covering a section of his eye under the black. Draco suddenly wonders what his hair would feel like. Would it be soft and thin? Thicker and coarser?
Surely, he wouldn’t notice if Draco pushed it back, surely he wouldn’t wake from something so simple. Draco takes a quiet breath before lifting his hand out of Harry’s, reaching across the small space between them, and gently pushing the strand of hair away, noting the feeling of Harry’s soft hair and smooth skin of his forehead as his fingertips brush against them.
When Harry doesn’t stir, Draco decides to be braver. He trails his fingertip along Harry’s temple, following the natural path to Harry’s cheekbone and tracing over that as well. He guides his finger over the contours of Harry’s nose before daring to dip his finger down to the peak of Harry’s upper lip, slowly tracing his finger along Harry’s lips, noting how soft the skin there is.
He pulls his finger away after a moment, not wanting to risk waking Harry, not wanting to have to answer for what he’s doing. Draco lays his head back down, still looking at Harry as he does, his heart nearly stopping in his chest as Harry’s lips twitch into a small smile.
“Why’d you stop?” Harry asks, opening his eyes slowly.
Heat floods Draco’s face as he looks at Harry, embarrassment flushing through him as he struggles to form a coherent sentence.
“Sorry, I—don’t really know what to say.” Draco says, his lame response only causing his cheeks to flush a deeper crimson.
Harry laughs, reaching out and taking Draco’s hand in his, placing it back onto his cheek gently. Draco freezes for a moment, his heart thudding rhythmically in his ears as Harry’s eyes look across the tent at him expectantly.
Slowly, Draco moves his fingers, running a soft trail along Harry’s skin, keeping his eyes locked on Harry’s for any sign of him wanting Draco to stop. But all Harry does is close his eyes, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he sighs softly.
Draco can’t help but smile too, continuing his fingers on their path along his skin. He traces around Harry’s eye, trailing his fingers up towards his forehead. Gently, as though it might somehow hurt Harry, Draco slowly begins to trace the jagged line of Harry’s scar.
This causes Harry’s eyes to open, and he looks to Draco with a confusing expression. Draco freezes for a moment, his finger still resting gently on the scar.
“Does it hurt much?” Draco asks, his voice low in the space between them.
Harry shakes his head.
“Not anymore.” He replies, just as softly. “That feels—nice. Different.”
Draco nods once, resuming his trail along the scar. Harry watches his face now, scanning Draco’s expression for any sign of fear or disgust. But Draco’s face stays soft, curious.
He follows each curve and bend of the jagged mark, wondering what it felt like to get, wondering what Harry would look like without it. Draco quickly banishes that thought, knowing that Harry would somehow be less—Harry without that mark.
Draco smiles to himself, tracing the scar one more time before dropping his hand back between them, covering Harry’s hand with his own.
“What?” Harry asks, biting back a smile.
Draco laughs, shaking his head.
“Nothing.” He replies. “Just this.”
Draco squeezes Harry’s hand gently, lifting his head to gesture to their positions in the tent.
“All of this.” Draco continues. “It’s so… different, than what I ever imagined.”
Harry laughs too, lacing his fingers through Draco’s and squeezing back.
“I know.” He replies in a soft tone. “It’s… it’s nice, right?”
Draco catches the hint of uncertainty in Harry’s voice, hoping he didn’t have it in his own when he’d spoken as well.
“It is.” Draco says after a moment, taking a deep breath.
Harry nods, his eyes flitting to Draco’s lips as he dares to lean in closer. Draco’s cheeks flush with heat as he leans in as well, wondering if this might be the moment that he discovers what Harry’s lips feel like against his own, wondering what this means for them now.
Their noses meet in the middle, brushing together softly as they keep their eyes locked on each other. Draco feels Harry’s breath on his skin, warm and inviting, gentle and secure. Draco’s eyes flit to Harry’s lips now, only mere inches away from his own as his noses brushes against Harry’s again.
“Mr. Potter?” A voice calls from outside of the tent. “Mr. Malfoy? Are you here?”
The boys pull apart quickly, each of them breathlessly staring at each other, cheeks red with heat.
“Mr. Potter?” The voice calls again, and they quickly recognize it as Professor McGonagall. “Mr. Malfoy?”
The boys stagger to their feet, making their way to the entrance of the tent and pulling it open, staring out at McGonagall with wide eyes.
“Sorry Professor, we overslept.” Harry says smoothly, an easy smile playing on his lips.
McGonagall smiles, nodding her head.
“Not to worry, we just weren’t sure where you two had gone.” She says with a small laugh. “Feeling alright Mr. Malfoy?”
Draco nods, maybe a bit too enthusiastically.
“Yes, fine.” Draco says with a small smile. “Just waking up.”
McGonagall laughs, nodding her head once.
“Well, get dressed and meet me just outside of Hogsmeade, I have a special assignment for the both of you.” She tells them, her smile faltering slightly as she nods her head again, turning and walking away.
Draco doesn’t ask Harry what he thinks of that, instead silently following him back into the tent. Harry reaches for his clothes, and Draco reaches for his own, but this time, neither boy faces the opposite direction.
Instead, Harry looks at Draco with a curious expression, reaching down and pulling his shirt from his body in one fluid motion before dropping it to the side. Draco’s eyes widen slightly, but he follows Harry’s lead, doing the same a moment later.
His eyes pour over Harry’s body, trying to somehow commit every pale pane of his body to memory. Scars litter his body, but none appear too deep, simply leaving white or pink lines across the smoothness of his skin, showing that he’s done more than he’d ever let onto.
Draco watches as Harry’s eyes do the same, freezing on Draco’s left forearm, studying every inch of the Dark Mark that remains there. Draco silently curses at himself for not being more careful, not trying harder to hide it from Harry.
Harry takes a step forward, reaching out for Draco’s arm. Draco hesitates for a moment before lifting his hand, presenting the mark to Harry in the same way he had presented it to Voldemort when he’d obtained it.
Harry traces the mark slowly, gently, his fingers hardly registering on Draco’s skin.
“Did it hurt?” He asks, his eyes flitting between the mark and Harry’s face.
Draco nods once, refusing to look down at his own arm, an act that he’s gotten rather good at doing.
“Does it now?” Harry asks, trailing over it again.
Draco shakes his head, still only looking at Harry’s face.
Harry does something unexpected then, leaning down and pressing his lips to Draco’s skin, directly in the center of the Dark Mark. Draco stops breathing, simply relishing in the softness of Harry’s lips on his skin.
Harry pulls away after a moment, smiling as he looks back into Draco’s eyes as he slowly releases his arm. The boys return to their own sides of the tent a moment later, dressing in a hurry, stealing glances at each other as they do.
They leave the tent shortly after, walking side by side towards the outskirts of Hogsmeade, neither of them breaking the tense silence between them. McGonagall stands at the end of the road, and she waves the boys over as they approach.
“Thank you for coming.” She says, turning to walk, gesturing for them to follow. “There is one thing that must be done, but the only people I trust to do it was the two of you.”
Harry and Draco nod, waiting for her to explain the assignment. They turn down a path, and Harry stops in his tracks as the Shrieking Shack comes into view.
“Harry, I know this is difficult for you.” McGonagall says, stopping and turning back to face them. “But you’re the one who must do this act justice. There are buckets and rags by the front door, send for me if you need me.”
Harry nods, still not moving. McGonagall steps around them, squeezing each boy’s shoulder with her hand before sighing quietly and walking back towards the school. Draco looks to Harry with confusion, wondering what they’re doing here.
Harry doesn’t respond to the look, simply clenching his jaw and fists, beginning to walk towards the Shack with speed. Draco follows behind, unsure what exactly they’re walking into. Harry stops at the front door, reaching down and picking up a bucket.
Draco follows his lead, picking up a bucket as well. He notices how Harry’s hand shakes as he pushes the door open, staying close beside him as they walk into the dark house.
Harry seems to know exactly where to go, walking through the entryway and into a bigger room before turning down a small hallway. He pushes open another door before freezing entirely, the only sound in the room coming from Harry’s jagged breaths.
“Harry what is—?” Draco trails off as he steps closer, his jaw dropping slightly as he sees the inside of the room.
Blood coats the room, dried in jagged splatter patterns against the floor and walls. A pool of blood still rests on the floor, dried to seemingly circle where someone died here. Lines of dragged blood circle the floor, as if something slid through the puddles of blood while they were still fresh.
Harry still says nothing, stepping into the room and dropping to his knees, slamming his hand into the bucket. He pulls out a rag, beginning to scrub at a bloody footprint near the door. Draco moves beside him, reaching into his own bucket and starting on a footprint next to him.
Harry’s breathing gets faster and faster as he scrubs, scrubbing the floor until every last mark is gone, leaving the floor nearly glistening beneath it. He rings his rag out in the bucket, watching as the water turns into a rusty red color.
Suddenly, Harry screams, slamming his hand against the side of the bucket and sending it flying across the room. Water spills out as the metal bucket crashes into the wall on the other side of the room, the puddle mixing with the dry blood and tinting it red.
Draco doesn’t even think, his hands suddenly encircling Harry’s body as sobs rip through his chest. Harry doesn’t pull away, simply crumbling into Draco’s arms. Draco hushes him softly, rocking Harry back and forth as he holds him tightly to his chest.
He wonders what happened here, musing that maybe this blood belonged to Fred Weasley, wondering why he was so far away from the castle during the battle. Harry clings to Draco’s shirt as he sobs, holding onto him as though he might drift away if he lets go.
“What happened here, Harry?” Draco asks, still rocking slowly, running a hand through Harry’s silky black hair as he does.
Harry chokes in a breath, looking up at Draco with tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Snape.” He breathes, his eyes pleading with Draco’s to somehow pull the memories out of his mind. “That bloody snake killed him here.”
A shiver crawls down Draco’s spine at the thought of Nagini, her long, menacing form slithering along beside Voldemort. Harry looks back towards the blood, and Draco can swear he almost sees the memories playing through Harry’s mind, flitting across his eyes.
“Let’s give him the dignity of dying for his school.” Draco says through a tight throat. “Of dying for the people he cared about.”
Harry pulls his eyes back to Draco, searching for sincerity.
“You know, Snape helped me out too.” Draco says lowly, reaching his hand up to Harry’s face, wiping his tears away with his thumb. “He kept me safe. He did what I couldn’t do. He protected me for a long time.”
Harry nods, covering Draco’s hand with his own, pressing Draco’s palm against his cheek.
“We can clean the blood and ring it all into the buckets, then we’ll take it down to the forest and pour it there.” Draco says, trailing his thumb along Harry’s cheekbone softly. “He’ll have more of a burial that way.”
Harry nods again, keeping his eyes locked on Draco’s for a moment before standing up, going to the edge of the room and picking his bucket back up. He takes his rag and begins to clean the spilled blood, wringing the rag into the bucket to collect the bloody water. Draco does the same, scrubbing at the walls and floor beside Harry.
They work for hours, each lost in their own thoughts, each remembering different horrors of the battle as they collect their professor’s blood. When at last the room is scrubbed clean, Draco reaches his blood-stained hand out to Harry.
Harry takes it, and they walk out of the Shack, bringing their buckets to a line of trees nearby.
“To Professor Snape.” Draco says, releasing Harry’s hand just long enough to carefully dump his bucket into the dirt near the base of one of the trees. “A good man.”
Harry nods, lifting his own bucket.
“To Professor Snape.” Harry replies, dumping his own bucket into the dirt. “A protector.”
Draco faces Harry as he finishes dumping out the water, smiling at him with a small, tight smile. Harry takes Draco’s hand again, walking through the woods to a small stream, sitting on a fallen log beside the water, pulling Draco down beside him. They wash their hands in the stream, cleaning the rest of the blood away.
“Thank you.” Harry says after a while, turning to face Draco. “For that back there.”
Draco nods, picking up a rock beside him and tossing it into the water.
“You did the same for me.” Draco says lowly, reaching for another rock.
Harry nods, watching Draco as he tosses the second rock into the water. Such a simple motion, but somehow seemingly so out of place for the Draco he once knew.
“But you didn’t have to do it for me.” Harry says lowly. “You’re so—different. From when we were in school, I mean.”
Draco nods slowly, reaching for another rock.
“I was really a prick in school, wasn’t I?” He says with a bitter laugh, turning the rock over in his palm, feeling the weight of the smooth surface in his hand.
Harry chuckles lowly.
“I suppose I was too.” He replies, kicking at a branch of the log with his shoe. “But I like who you are now. You’re very kind, compassionate, you’re—”
“You don’t have to butter me up, Potter.” Draco interrupts, the compliments from Harry making his chest feel an odd way. “I’m already here helping and all that.”
Suddenly, Harry’s finger pulls at Draco’s chin, forcing Draco to turn his head towards Harry, who’s face is suddenly mere inches from Draco’s.
“I’m trying to tell you I like you.” Harry says with a smirk. “Let me.”
Draco laughs breathlessly, unsure how else to reply.
“You’re very caring, you’re funny.” Harry continues, each word inching his face closer and closer to Draco’s. “And I like to be around you.”
Draco nods, his head spinning with the proximity to Harry.
“I like to be around you too.” Draco whispers, moving his hand to stabilize himself, accidentally placing it on Harry’s thigh.
Harry doesn’t pull away though, so Draco doesn’t move his hand.
“Yeah?” Harry whispers, his lips nearly brushing against Draco’s as he speaks.
Draco inhales sharply, closing his eyes.
“Yeah.” He whispers back, definitely feeling Harry’s lips brush against his own as he replies.
“Good.” Harry responds, finally pressing his lips to Draco’s.
Draco melts against Harry as his lips meet his, finally feeling the soft warmth of them against his own. Harry’s hand slides from Draco’s chin to the back of his head, intertwining with his hair as he deepens the kiss.
Draco only tries to get closer, feeling that no amount of contact could be enough in this moment, only knowing he longs for every part of Harry to be locked with every part of him. Draco’s fingers find their way to Harry’s hair as well, brushing through his soft hair until Harry parts Draco’s lips with his tongue.
Draco gasps as he does, his open mouth allowing Harry full entry as Draco holds onto a fist of Harry’s hair. They explore each other’s lips for the first time, neither one daring to pull away as the other kisses them, neither one wanting to be apart just yet.
When at last the kiss breaks, Draco rests his forehead on Harry’s, looking into his eyes as his hand falls back to rest on Harry’s thigh.
“I could get used to that.” He breathes, a laugh bubbling through his chest even as he tries to fight it back.
Harry laughs too, though, nodding his head as he returns his hand to Draco’s cheek.
“Me too.” He replies. “I’m glad you chose to come with me.”
Draco nods, leaning in to Harry’s touch.
“Me too.” He murmurs.
They stay by the water for a few moments more before deciding to walk back towards the school. As if through some unspoken rule, they drop their hands from each other’s as they step onto the path, staying close, but not touching.
“Boys!” McGonagall calls, waving them over as they step into the Great Hall. “Are you both alright? How did it go?”
Harry and Draco set their buckets and rags down with the rest of the cleaning supplies in the corner of the room before walking over to where she stands.
“It went as well as it could.” Harry answers. “We helped each other through it.”
He nudges Draco with his arm slightly, and Draco nods.
“I knew that you would.” McGonagall says with a small smile, and what Draco could’ve sworn was a wink, almost too quick to notice. “Come and join us for dinner.”
Draco and Harry share a knowing glance before following her to the table, sitting with their peers and joining into the conversation. Harry’s hand eventually finds it’s way to Draco’s knee, and for once, Draco feels right at home.