Always There (H/D, PG-13)
May. 20th, 2007 01:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sesheta66Title: Always There
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sesheta_66
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1725
Challenges:lire_casander's request: "I want it to be fluff, if you can manage. Not established relationship, I'd like them to start developing the relationship. And I want Draco to say "I was there even though you couldn't see me." Also fits my ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100quills prompt 041 - "heart."
Summary: Draco has a confession to make.
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.
It had been months since Snape had brought him here, to Grimmauld Place. Months since they had fled Hogwarts, and Draco had thought that his life was over. Months since his mother and father were both killed at Voldemort's hand and Draco knew that his father had chosen the wrong side. Dumbledore, knowing everything that Draco had done, had offered him and his family sanctuary. He held out an olive branch even after all that Draco and his father had done. And Voldemort? He had killed his parents -- loyal followers their entire lives, and his father Voldemort's right hand -- because Snape, not Draco, had killed Dumbledore.
Despondent and desolate, he had been brought to Grimmauld Place -- Harry Potter's home -- for his own safety. Draco had been sure this was a terrible idea, and had told Snape as much. Snape had explained everything: his Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa; his deal with Dumbledore to carry out Draco's orders (he had been dying anyway); the Order and its mandate; and Potter's role in everything.
It should have surprised Draco, but it didn't. Why else would Voldemort have spent so much of his life trying to kill Harry? He was a child, and didn't even know magic before he entered Hogwarts! That such a powerful wizard could be so obsessed with a child had been beyond him. But now it all made sense. He wanted to kill Harry before Harry was old enough and strong enough to kill him. Funny, but that seemed to Draco like Harry was the more powerful wizard, even as a child. Interesting.
That didn't give Draco much comfort, since he was quite literally walking into the lion's den, what with all the bloody Gryffindors there. And Harry was there. More than that, it was Harry's home. He would never let Draco in. Not after what had happened to the weasel and Katie Bell. Not after Greyback and the Death Eaters got into Hogwarts. And certainly not after Dumbledore was killed. What was Snape thinking?
But it hadn't been that way at all. Sure, he was greeted with glares from some -- the weasel at the top of the list -- and curious, if not a bit frightened glances from others. But Harry? He welcomed him. He made a point of telling Draco that he would always have a place to stay there, and that he should call this his home.
Draco had been stunned. So stunned in fact, that he had pulled Harry aside after supper on his third night there. "So what's the story, Potter? Why are you being so nice to me? What's in it for you?"
"Hasn't there been enough fighting?" was the simple answer he got. Nothing more was said that night, but Draco couldn't let it go. The next night, he tried again.
"Potter, answer me. This makes no sense. Sure, there's been enough fighting, but that doesn't mean you have to be nice to me. We have never been nice to each other. Why now?"
"Why not now?" Harry had asked. He was starting to sound like a bloody centaur, the way he was answering questions cryptically and philosophically.
"Stop doing that!" Draco yelled, frustration getting the better of him.
"Stop what?"
"Stop answering my questions with questions. Just answer me. Please."
"I was there." Harry looked into Draco's eyes, and placed his hands on his shoulders. He guided him to a chair, and sat him down. "I was there, on the Tower, when Dumbledore was killed."
"But I didn't see --"
"I was under my Invisibility Cloak. Under a full body bind. I saw everything. I heard everything. I know why you did what you did."
"Are you saying that you forgive me?"
"I don't know if forgive is the right word. I understand that you felt trapped, that you felt that you had no choice."
"And you would have done the same thing?" Draco asked sceptically.
"No, I'm pretty sure I would have done things differently. But everybody has to make their own choices in life, yeah?"
"And live with the consequences."
"And live with the consequences," Harry agreed, taking Draco's hand and giving it a squeeze. "I may not have forgiven you completely, and I definitely won't forget what happened, but let's just look ahead now, okay?"
Draco nodded, overwhelmed by the acceptance he was receiving from the one person who had the most right to hate him. Harry was a far better man than Draco had ever thought possible. Just as he thought this moment couldn't get more surreal, Harry held out his hand. "Friends?" he asked.
Draco's mind flashed back to the day on the train. To his insults and posturing. To the spoiled prat he was. "I don't know, Potter. Aren't I the wrong sort?" he asked, recalling his own words that day.
"Not any more, Draco," he said as he moved his outstretched hand a bit closer. "Not any more."
That had been the start. Months had passed, and much to Draco's amazement, it seemed that everyone accepted him as part of the team now. Of course, he suspected that Harry had a lot to do with that. He had overheard a heated discussion between Harry and the weasel, and Harry was telling him that he didn't really care what Weasley thought of Draco, he would keep it to himself. Draco was trying, Harry had said, and it was the least Ron could do, to make the same effort.
Working together with the Golden Trio, Draco had found his niche. He was excellent at research, and had much more knowledge of Voldemort, the Death Eaters and Dark Magic than the three of them combined, so his contribution did not go unnoticed. Especially by Harry. In fact, Harry took every possible opportunity to thank Draco. He didn't do that with everyone else, Draco noticed, which prompted him to speak to Harry alone one night.
"Why are you so nice to me, Harry?"
"What?" Harry had replied, confused. "I don't treat you any nicer than anyone else."
"Yes you do. You are forever thanking me, complimenting me, for even the slightest thing. You don't do that with anyone else."
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that. What gives?" He hesitated before adding what his deepest fear was. "Are you afraid I'm going to leave, go back to Voldemort?"
"Gods, no, Draco! I just figured ..."
"You figured what?" Draco asked warily.
"I figured that you could use all the positive feedback you could get. I knew your father, and I heard some things he said to you, and ..."
"Go on."
"And I was never told anything nice about myself until the day I met Hagrid. Ten years of being told you are worthless isn't forgotten easily. When I see someone that deserves praise, I don't hesitate. And when I know -- or suspect -- they could use more than the average person --"
"You shower them with it," Draco finished for him. That made sense. But ... "What do you mean you were told you were worthless?"
"It's nothing, really."
"It's not nothing. You're not worthless. You --"
"Draco, this isn't about me. I'm fine. Really, I am. This is about you. I figure you probably didn't have much of a childhood, so whatever I can do to make your life here better, I will."
"Thank you. But, Harry --"
"Another time, maybe."
"Okay."
Over the next while, he and Harry had grown closer. They were good friends now, and Draco came to realize that he wanted more. Perhaps he always had.
"Why are you staring, Draco?" Harry asked him, interrupting his thoughts. "You always seem to be watching me. At first, I thought it was everyone that you watched, trying to figure out what they're up to. But it's not everyone, is it? It's just me. Why me?"
"I've been watching you for years, Harry." He made his way over to the window, not sure why he had just made that confession.
"No you haven't. I would have known."
"I was there even though you couldn't see me," Draco admitted as he looked out the window, afraid to meet Harry's eyes. As the words spilled out, he knew them to be true.
"Why?" Harry asked. Well, that was the big question, wasn't it? Something Draco had been asking himself for a long time. Something that he only recently figured out, as the two of them had grown closer. Something he had been denying, at least in some way, for years.
"Can't you figure it out?" Draco still gazed out the window. He couldn't say it. He knew what he felt, but to actually say the words, especially not knowing how Harry felt, that was too much. He wasn't yet ready to give Harry his heart. No, that wasn't right. Harry already owned his heart. He just didn't need to know it yet.
"I'd like to hear it from you," Harry said. Was it Draco's imagination, or was his voice getting closer?
"I can't," he whispered, shaking his head. "I just can't."
"I understand," Harry said as he reached out and touched Draco's shoulder. It was a little thing, an innocent touch, but it sent waves of heat coursing through Draco's body. He leaned back, almost involuntarily, to find himself wrapped in strong arms, Harry's chin resting on his shoulder.
They stood together like that for the longest time, looking out the window, Draco breathing in Harry's scent. Draco felt everything in Harry's embrace. Harry's breath on his neck, Harry's warmth surrounding him, Harry's arms protecting and comforting him. It felt so right, so perfect.
Then Harry planted a soft kiss on Draco's neck, another just below his ear, another on his chin, and then turning Draco around, he kissed him on the lips. Draco felt at once exhilarated and weakened by the sensation. He parted his lips, and Harry's tongue found his own. The kiss was soft, yet more passionate than he ever could have imagined. Their tongues explored, their hands caressed, and Draco was awash with emotion.
As they broke apart, Harry gazed into Draco's eyes, almost stealing his breath away with that one look, eyes full of passion and longing and ... perhaps something else. He smiled at Draco and whispered, "I can't say it either."
Author:
sesheta_66 Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1725
Challenges:
lire_casander's request: "I want it to be fluff, if you can manage. Not established relationship, I'd like them to start developing the relationship. And I want Draco to say "I was there even though you couldn't see me." Also fits my 100quills prompt 041 - "heart."Summary: Draco has a confession to make.
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.
It had been months since Snape had brought him here, to Grimmauld Place. Months since they had fled Hogwarts, and Draco had thought that his life was over. Months since his mother and father were both killed at Voldemort's hand and Draco knew that his father had chosen the wrong side. Dumbledore, knowing everything that Draco had done, had offered him and his family sanctuary. He held out an olive branch even after all that Draco and his father had done. And Voldemort? He had killed his parents -- loyal followers their entire lives, and his father Voldemort's right hand -- because Snape, not Draco, had killed Dumbledore.
Despondent and desolate, he had been brought to Grimmauld Place -- Harry Potter's home -- for his own safety. Draco had been sure this was a terrible idea, and had told Snape as much. Snape had explained everything: his Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa; his deal with Dumbledore to carry out Draco's orders (he had been dying anyway); the Order and its mandate; and Potter's role in everything.
It should have surprised Draco, but it didn't. Why else would Voldemort have spent so much of his life trying to kill Harry? He was a child, and didn't even know magic before he entered Hogwarts! That such a powerful wizard could be so obsessed with a child had been beyond him. But now it all made sense. He wanted to kill Harry before Harry was old enough and strong enough to kill him. Funny, but that seemed to Draco like Harry was the more powerful wizard, even as a child. Interesting.
That didn't give Draco much comfort, since he was quite literally walking into the lion's den, what with all the bloody Gryffindors there. And Harry was there. More than that, it was Harry's home. He would never let Draco in. Not after what had happened to the weasel and Katie Bell. Not after Greyback and the Death Eaters got into Hogwarts. And certainly not after Dumbledore was killed. What was Snape thinking?
But it hadn't been that way at all. Sure, he was greeted with glares from some -- the weasel at the top of the list -- and curious, if not a bit frightened glances from others. But Harry? He welcomed him. He made a point of telling Draco that he would always have a place to stay there, and that he should call this his home.
Draco had been stunned. So stunned in fact, that he had pulled Harry aside after supper on his third night there. "So what's the story, Potter? Why are you being so nice to me? What's in it for you?"
"Hasn't there been enough fighting?" was the simple answer he got. Nothing more was said that night, but Draco couldn't let it go. The next night, he tried again.
"Potter, answer me. This makes no sense. Sure, there's been enough fighting, but that doesn't mean you have to be nice to me. We have never been nice to each other. Why now?"
"Why not now?" Harry had asked. He was starting to sound like a bloody centaur, the way he was answering questions cryptically and philosophically.
"Stop doing that!" Draco yelled, frustration getting the better of him.
"Stop what?"
"Stop answering my questions with questions. Just answer me. Please."
"I was there." Harry looked into Draco's eyes, and placed his hands on his shoulders. He guided him to a chair, and sat him down. "I was there, on the Tower, when Dumbledore was killed."
"But I didn't see --"
"I was under my Invisibility Cloak. Under a full body bind. I saw everything. I heard everything. I know why you did what you did."
"Are you saying that you forgive me?"
"I don't know if forgive is the right word. I understand that you felt trapped, that you felt that you had no choice."
"And you would have done the same thing?" Draco asked sceptically.
"No, I'm pretty sure I would have done things differently. But everybody has to make their own choices in life, yeah?"
"And live with the consequences."
"And live with the consequences," Harry agreed, taking Draco's hand and giving it a squeeze. "I may not have forgiven you completely, and I definitely won't forget what happened, but let's just look ahead now, okay?"
Draco nodded, overwhelmed by the acceptance he was receiving from the one person who had the most right to hate him. Harry was a far better man than Draco had ever thought possible. Just as he thought this moment couldn't get more surreal, Harry held out his hand. "Friends?" he asked.
Draco's mind flashed back to the day on the train. To his insults and posturing. To the spoiled prat he was. "I don't know, Potter. Aren't I the wrong sort?" he asked, recalling his own words that day.
"Not any more, Draco," he said as he moved his outstretched hand a bit closer. "Not any more."
That had been the start. Months had passed, and much to Draco's amazement, it seemed that everyone accepted him as part of the team now. Of course, he suspected that Harry had a lot to do with that. He had overheard a heated discussion between Harry and the weasel, and Harry was telling him that he didn't really care what Weasley thought of Draco, he would keep it to himself. Draco was trying, Harry had said, and it was the least Ron could do, to make the same effort.
Working together with the Golden Trio, Draco had found his niche. He was excellent at research, and had much more knowledge of Voldemort, the Death Eaters and Dark Magic than the three of them combined, so his contribution did not go unnoticed. Especially by Harry. In fact, Harry took every possible opportunity to thank Draco. He didn't do that with everyone else, Draco noticed, which prompted him to speak to Harry alone one night.
"Why are you so nice to me, Harry?"
"What?" Harry had replied, confused. "I don't treat you any nicer than anyone else."
"Yes you do. You are forever thanking me, complimenting me, for even the slightest thing. You don't do that with anyone else."
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that. What gives?" He hesitated before adding what his deepest fear was. "Are you afraid I'm going to leave, go back to Voldemort?"
"Gods, no, Draco! I just figured ..."
"You figured what?" Draco asked warily.
"I figured that you could use all the positive feedback you could get. I knew your father, and I heard some things he said to you, and ..."
"Go on."
"And I was never told anything nice about myself until the day I met Hagrid. Ten years of being told you are worthless isn't forgotten easily. When I see someone that deserves praise, I don't hesitate. And when I know -- or suspect -- they could use more than the average person --"
"You shower them with it," Draco finished for him. That made sense. But ... "What do you mean you were told you were worthless?"
"It's nothing, really."
"It's not nothing. You're not worthless. You --"
"Draco, this isn't about me. I'm fine. Really, I am. This is about you. I figure you probably didn't have much of a childhood, so whatever I can do to make your life here better, I will."
"Thank you. But, Harry --"
"Another time, maybe."
"Okay."
Over the next while, he and Harry had grown closer. They were good friends now, and Draco came to realize that he wanted more. Perhaps he always had.
"Why are you staring, Draco?" Harry asked him, interrupting his thoughts. "You always seem to be watching me. At first, I thought it was everyone that you watched, trying to figure out what they're up to. But it's not everyone, is it? It's just me. Why me?"
"I've been watching you for years, Harry." He made his way over to the window, not sure why he had just made that confession.
"No you haven't. I would have known."
"I was there even though you couldn't see me," Draco admitted as he looked out the window, afraid to meet Harry's eyes. As the words spilled out, he knew them to be true.
"Why?" Harry asked. Well, that was the big question, wasn't it? Something Draco had been asking himself for a long time. Something that he only recently figured out, as the two of them had grown closer. Something he had been denying, at least in some way, for years.
"Can't you figure it out?" Draco still gazed out the window. He couldn't say it. He knew what he felt, but to actually say the words, especially not knowing how Harry felt, that was too much. He wasn't yet ready to give Harry his heart. No, that wasn't right. Harry already owned his heart. He just didn't need to know it yet.
"I'd like to hear it from you," Harry said. Was it Draco's imagination, or was his voice getting closer?
"I can't," he whispered, shaking his head. "I just can't."
"I understand," Harry said as he reached out and touched Draco's shoulder. It was a little thing, an innocent touch, but it sent waves of heat coursing through Draco's body. He leaned back, almost involuntarily, to find himself wrapped in strong arms, Harry's chin resting on his shoulder.
They stood together like that for the longest time, looking out the window, Draco breathing in Harry's scent. Draco felt everything in Harry's embrace. Harry's breath on his neck, Harry's warmth surrounding him, Harry's arms protecting and comforting him. It felt so right, so perfect.
Then Harry planted a soft kiss on Draco's neck, another just below his ear, another on his chin, and then turning Draco around, he kissed him on the lips. Draco felt at once exhilarated and weakened by the sensation. He parted his lips, and Harry's tongue found his own. The kiss was soft, yet more passionate than he ever could have imagined. Their tongues explored, their hands caressed, and Draco was awash with emotion.
As they broke apart, Harry gazed into Draco's eyes, almost stealing his breath away with that one look, eyes full of passion and longing and ... perhaps something else. He smiled at Draco and whispered, "I can't say it either."
