sesheta66 | No Home for the Holidays

Title: No Home for the Holidays - part 7
Author:

sesheta_66
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 2850
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco
Summary: Memories - even someone else‘s - can be a burden.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

Challenges: This series started with prompts from

awdt's Christmas Quickies,

dracoharry100's Christmas Challenge,

slythindor100 Special Holiday Challenge, and IJ‘s Advent Drabbles, though this part does not use any prompts. The next part will.

********

Click here to start at the beginning.

No Home for the Holidays - Part 7

Harry watched as Malfoy disappeared into the Pensieve. Even after all he'd seen, it was strange for Harry to watch someone's form melt away as he was drawn into the stone basin. Very strange.

He hadn't really given much thought to what happened to him each time he'd gone into Tom Riddle's diary or Dumbledore's Pensieve. The idea of turning into near-mist was more than a little disconcerting. He wondered what happened to a wizard's body when Apparating. He shuddered involuntarily, then got up and started to pace.

He had a good twenty minutes to mull over what had happened. He touched his fingers to his still slightly swollen lips, then ran his tongue over them, still tasting Malfoy. He stopped pacing, closed his eyes and savoured the memory. Every swipe of their tongues, every slide of their lips, each soft moan. It hadn't lasted nearly long enough, and Harry knew it might not ever happen again, so he replayed it in his mind, hoping to make it last, even if only in his mind.

After a few times of simply enjoying the memory - he was sure to be using the Pensieve later with this on a steady loop - Harry began to analyse the kiss. He thought about that look, just before their lips had come together. He knew that he couldn't mask his own feelings, so he imagined his eyes had been alive with desire. The thing was, Harry had been quite sure there was desire in the grey depths of Malfoy's eyes too. The way he had responded when Harry had only slightly parted his lips. The way he had tenderly caressed Harry's cheek.

Then Harry thought about what the girls had said. No one kisses like that unless they mean it. He wondered if they'd seen something that Harry couldn't have.

Maybe Malfoy was lying, covering up. Of course he would do something like that. He would never admit to actually liking it, not unless Harry admitted it first. Not that Harry would say the words aloud either. Besides, what if he was wrong? What if the girls were wrong? Could Harry risk making a complete fool of himself?

He laughed out loud. Wasn't rushing in without thinking and often making a fool of himself his trademark? He looked at the Pensieve. How much longer would Malfoy be? Harry wondered if he was doing the right thing, letting him see the memories. Of course he was. Malfoy had the right to know what his mentor had done for him. And what he hadn't. Telling Malfoy wouldn't be the same. He deserved to see the details, unfiltered, for himself.

Harry sat down on his bed and picked up a book to read while he waited.

~*~*~

Draco watched a young Severus watching two young girls playing. Then he told the younger one, Lily, that she was a witch and the older one, Tuney, that she was a Muggle.

He watched as Severus told Lily that it made no difference that she was Muggle-born.

What?

Draco watched Severus on the platform for his first trip on the Hogwarts Express, and watched Lily's sister call her a freak.

Who were these girls?

He watched Snape enter the compartment where Lily was, then he saw -- That must be Potter's dad. He watched Potter's dad insult Slytherin and call Snape 'Snivellus'.

Then he watched as Lily Evans - why does that name sound familiar? - got sorted into Gryffindor, much to Severus's dismay.

He watched Lily and Severus argue about his friends - future Death Eaters.

He watched James Potter and Sirius Black humiliate Severus, then watched Lily defend him. Then he watched Severus call her a Mudblood.

He watched Severus make a deal with Dumbledore. Watched him admit that he'd told Voldemort about the Prophecy … the one that led to Potter being orphaned and nearly killed as a baby. Watched him fall apart after Potter's mother - the Muggle-born girl with the Muggle sister - had been killed, even after he'd asked the Dark Lord to spare her life.

So that's how he became a spy for Dumbledore. Because he had loved Potter's mother. And he hated Potter because he, who looked so much like his dad, reminded Severus of James Potter.

He watched Severus complain about Potter and Dumbledore defend him.

He watched a weakened Dumbledore with a blackened hand be told by Severus that he had a year to live. He heard Dumbledore tell him about the Dark Lord's plan for Draco to kill him.

Dumbledore really had known all along! Why hadn't he said something earlier?

Then he watched Severus pledge to take Draco's place and kill Dumbledore. To save Draco's soul.

Then he watched as Dumbledore - the man who had wanted to save Draco - condemned Potter to death.

What the fuck? Draco imagined that the look on Severus's face looked much like his own did right now.

He watched Dumbledore order Severus to give away the Order's plans for taking Potter to safety, ultimately resulting in more death and injury. He watched Severus use the same curse Potter used on Draco - the one that had ripped him open - and slice off one of the Weasley twin's ears.

Then he watched Dumbledore give Severus instructions on getting the sword to Potter. Then everything faded and he was back in Potter's dorm.

Potter was sitting on the bed; he had lowered a book when Draco came out of the Pensieve, and he was looking at him questioningly.

"I have to go," Draco blurted out.

"Are you okay?" Potter asked.

How could he answer that? He had just watched the man who hated Potter more than anyone else he knew - well, besides the Dark Lord … and maybe his father - risk his own life time and again to protect Potter. And he had also watched the man who Draco thought had always protected Potter admit that he'd only done it so Potter could die at the right time.

And Potter had seen all these memories. Probably more than once. He knew that he had been used, and yet … he still ….

"I need to think."

"Okay," Potter said hesitantly. "I'll see you at dinner?"

"I have to go."

~*~*~

Harry had been not-reading his book for a while, looking back at the Pensieve periodically, wavering between thinking he'd done the right thing by showing Malfoy the memories, and berating himself for being a complete idiot.

He really only wanted Malfoy to know that Snape and Dumbledore had both thought him worthy of saving, of caring about. Now that Malfoy was watching the memories, Harry was running them through his own mind again. He wasn't sure that he wanted Malfoy to know about Snape's thing for his mum. And Malfoy already didn't like Muggles. How would he feel about them after watching Harry's Aunt Petunia? Well, he supposed he could explain later that all Muggles were not like her.

He hoped that Malfoy wouldn't think any less of Snape, because he'd followed Dumbledore's orders. Harry put the book down and resumed pacing. After a few minutes, he sat back down on his bed and picked up the book again. He stared at the same paragraph for what seemed like an age by the time he heard a noise from the Pensieve. He put the book down and watched Malfoy emerge.

He looked … shell-shocked. He looked at Harry with confusion and curiosity and … Harry couldn't make out the other emotions, but there was a mixture of them.

"I have to go," he said.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

Malfoy continued to look at him oddly, like he was processing something in his mind and he couldn't quite figure out what to say.

"I need to think."

Oh. Well. "Okay." Harry wanted to talk to him, but … "I'll see you at dinner?"

"I have to go." And he left. Quickly. Almost at a run.

Harry wondered what had sent him fleeing. He hoped it wasn't their kiss. No, it wouldn't have been. Not after being confronted with so much of Snape's past. Maybe Harry should only have selected a few for him to see. Stupid! Why hadn't he thought about how hard it would be for Malfoy to watch?

Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map and looked for the dot marked Draco Malfoy. He found him just as he was approaching the Slytherin dungeon. He thought about going down there, just to make sure Malfoy was okay, but decided against it. He probably just needed some time alone to digest it all. Merlin knew Harry would have.

~*~*~

Draco somehow made it to his common room. He had wandered in a daze all the way there. He sat down on the sofa, in front of the fire, and leaned his head back, placing his hands over his face.

There was a lot to process.

Snape. A hero. He'd read and heard enough to know that Severus had been working for the other side to bring down Voldemort, but he'd had no idea. Merlin, it was all because Voldemort killed the woman he loved. Potter's mother. Draco shook his head, as though it would erase the thoughts. It didn't work.

Potter knew this. Knew all of it. He had said that Snape had been dying and told him to take his memories. Draco wondered when Potter actually watched them. Was it before or after Voldemort died? Had he discovered only after he'd risked his own life - again - that Dumbledore had basically just set him up for slaughter?

Draco thought back to everything Potter had said recently. Not once had he said anything against their former Headmaster. It was unbelievable that Potter didn't hate the man. Or maybe he did, and the betrayal just went too deep for him to talk about it. That was probably it. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing the old man was dead. Certainly Draco's father always told him what an idiot Dumbledore had been.

Draco laughed. It was humourless. As he considered it, Draco thought that Lucius might actually have been impressed by Dumbledore's tactics. Then Draco remembered Severus's face. He had been utterly disgusted when Dumbledore had told him. Here was a boy who couldn't help but bring back awful memories for Severus every time he looked at him - the boy who looked just like his father, but had his mother's eyes. And yet, in the end, Snape was the one more reluctant to see the boy's demise that a man who presumably cared about him.

Draco could practically feel his blood begin to boil. Certainly he could feel it rushing behind his ears. That bastard! He had never given a shit about Potter. He'd just been using him - and Severus - all along. Probably used everyone he ever came into contact with.

Draco shuddered as a thought crossed his mind. He would have made a stellar Slytherin.

Suddenly the dungeon felt stifling. It was warm, the air was thick, and his stomach felt … off. He needed some air. Draco pulled on his cloak and left the dungeon.

~*~*~

Harry entered the Great Hall, hoping to see Malfoy, but he wasn't there. As time passed, and dinner came to a close, he decided that Malfoy had had enough alone time. Harry wanted to talk to him.

First, he stopped at the kitchens and asked the house-elves to prepare him a basket of food while he went back up to Gryffindor Tower. He went to his dorm, retrieved the map, collected the basket, then made his way up to the Astronomy Tower.

He cleared his throat to announce his arrival. "I brought you something to eat," he said.

"Not hungry," Malfoy replied with a shiver.

"You're freezing!" Harry exclaimed. He cast a Warming Charm, then asked, "How long have you been up here?"

"A while." His teeth chattered and his lips were turning blue.

Harry sat down beside him and leaned in, hoping his body heat would help speed things along. He opened the basket and pulled out a cup. "Here. Have some tea, at least."

Malfoy took it and smiled. "Always the hero."

Harry smiled back. "Always a friend."

Draco looked at him curiously, furrowing his brows. "Is that what we are now, Potter? Friends?"

"I'd like to think so," Harry replied. He didn't add, but I'd like to be more.

"But why? I don't understand. After everything that's happened to you, how can you trust anyone? I know I couldn't."

Harry was stunned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean Dumbledore!" Malfoy yelled.

"But Dumbledore wanted to save you," Harry argued.

"Yes, he did. That's why I came up here. To think about that awful day when --"

"When Snape did what he'd promised," Harry finished for him. "Dumbledore had been dying, and Snape put him out of his misery, saving your soul in the process."

"I know that now. And I want to be grateful. Really I do. But …" Malfoy looked at Harry. "How can you not hate me, after everything I've done?"

Harry let out an exasperated breath. "I thought we were past all that."

"But after everything, after all the stupid mistakes and awful decisions I made, Dumbledore did everything he could to save me. But you …" Draco put down his tea and brought his hand up to Harry's face. He began to caress it like he had earlier. "After everything you did for him, he was willing to just send you to your death. How can you not hate me for that?"

"That was his choice," Harry said, "not yours." Harry grasped Malfoy's wrist and brought his cold hand to his mouth, then kissed his palm. "I could never hate you." He leaned his cheek into Malfoy's touch and looked straight into Malfoy's eyes. "Not any more."

~*~*~

Draco couldn't believe what was happening. He stared at Potter. Not only did Potter not hate Draco, but he … no. This wasn't happening. Draco couldn't possibly be this lucky. But … Potter kissed his hand. And he looked right at Draco, as if challenging him to pull away.

Draco stared right back. All thoughts of Dumbledore and Snape and the war vanished, replaced by the haunting memory of their kiss. He couldn't bring himself to hope, but ….

Before Draco's thoughts could turn to action, Potter leaned towards him, his breath warm on Draco's frozen cheek. Draco's body reacted on instinct, leaning into the warmth. He whimpered softly as Potter's stubble-covered face brushed against his own.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran down Draco's spine as Potter's voice said, right next to his ear, "I'd like to try it again, Draco. This time, without the mistletoe."

"Yes." It came out on a breath, and sounded like a plea. Then Potter's lips were on his and his tongue was in Draco's mouth, and yes, it was exactly how he remembered it. And it wasn't a game; it wasn't a challenge. It was just the two of them, wanting this. And oh God Draco wanted this. He ran his fingers through Potter's hair, then grabbed it and pulled Potter closer.

Somehow he found himself lying down on a warm, cushioned surface - Potter apparently could multi-task; who knew? - with a warm Harry Potter pressed beside him, one leg draped over Draco. It felt glorious. He could feel the heat radiating off Potter's body, and everywhere their bodies were in contact was smouldering.

There were far too many barriers between them, and Draco longed to touch Potter's skin. He withdrew one hand from Potter's hair to pull Potter's shirt out from his trousers. He slipped his hand under the shirt, and Potter hissed. Draco chuckled; he knew his hand was cold, but he just had to touch Potter. The desperate desire to have skin-on-skin contact was too much.

His skin was smooth and like fire to the touch. Draco's second hand joined the first, and he pulled Potter's body on top of his own. He gasped when Potter's erection pressed against his own.

"Fuck," Potter said.

"Yes," Draco said.

Potter pulled back and looked down at him. No, don't stop the kissing. And that lovely rubbing. That was nice. Shit. Draco should learn to shut up. Now he'd gone and bollocksed it all up. Pushing too far, too fast. Shit!

"Really?" Potter asked, desire in his eyes.

Draco looked at him, at his crazy hair, his kiss-swollen lips, his flushed cheeks, and those piercing green eyes that someone could lose themselves in if they weren't careful enough. And he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Really," he said. And then Potter was kissing him again, slowly, gently, lovingly.

"Well, well, well," echoed a familiar voice. "And just what do we have here?"

Part 8

Current Mood: accomplished

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

knic26.livejournal.com

What a place to be interrupted! Who is this? I wonder.

They will get back to where they left off soon.

From:

There's Always Fiction

No Home for the Holidays - Part 7 (H/D, PG-13)

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