|Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven,|
@ 2007-09-24 11:38:00
|Entry tags:||hp fic draco/harry, hp fic exchanges and fests|
HP fic: Stars (The Lightning Bolt Remix) [Harry/Draco, adult]
Title: Stars (The Lightning Bolt Remix)
Warning: none -- explicit but not kinky
Summary: A battle injury leaves Harry numb and uncertain of what really happened the night of Voldemort's death; when he remembers, his life will change.
Note: This is a remix of kabal42's "Stars," written for hd_remix. The original story was posted before HBP, and in the remix I did not try to make it compliant to either that or DH.
Harry had always thought that seeing stars was simply an expression. When he opened his eyes, however, lights flashed across his vision and he moaned, nausea grabbing him and spinning him around so that he heaved out the thin sour contents of his stomach and huddled in misery. Then the world went dark again.
The next time he came to, he was being held in someone's arms. At first he thought he was seeing stars still, but, blinking, he recognized the light as that of many wands glowing with the Lumos spell. It hurt too much and Harry closed his eyes again.
A voice near his ear called out, "Hurry!" He flinched from the noise.
"I'm sorry. They'll be here in a moment."
Hands touched his face, stroking his hair and pushing it behind his ears, wiping the worst of the filth away. The voice was familiar, and after a moment Harry was able to put a name to it. Draco Malfoy. He started to shake his head in bewilderment, not remembering, but stopped when it brought back the pain and stars flashing once again behind his closed eyelids.
"Hold on, just hold on, don't give up now, they said not to let you sleep so stay awake, all right?" Draco murmured the words over and over in varying order, repeating the injunction for Harry to hold on, to stay awake. Harry didn't understand. All he wanted was to go to sleep; why wouldn't Draco let him go to sleep?
"Oh, thank goodness." The words were almost a wail. "Harry? Harry, can you hear me? The Healer from St. Mungo's will be right here. You have to stay awake until he's here." Hermione's voice was thick. "I have to... have to go to Ron. Draco, keep him awake." Urgency underscored her words.
"I will, no fear." Draco's grip on Harry tightened. "I'll keep talking to him." Harry slitted his eyes a fraction to see Hermione's feet rushing away. He whimpered as the light stabbed his head and closed them again.
"Don't try to open your eyes or move. Just hold still, hold on, I'll talk to you." Draco's arms held Harry close, the warmth of him reassuring. "I thought you were gone, I thought I had lost you without ever telling you how I felt. Maybe you guessed and that's why you never gave me the opportunity. If you don't want to know, well, maybe you won't remember this anyway, with your head and all." Draco sounded worried.
"But I love you. I can't let you go without telling you... I'll take anything that you're willing to give me, when you're able. Anything at all. I promise you that." He gave a dry laugh that turned into a half-sob. "So you can kiss me or fuck me or even tie me up and beat me, whatever you like, just know that if you're the one doing it then I want it."
Draco loved him? Something in Harry's mind latched onto that, bright and clear in the haziness of his thoughts. He held onto the image of the two of them bound together like a lifeline as hurrying footsteps signaled the arrival of the Healer. Draco let go of him as the Healer levitated his body up from the cold stone.
"No," Harry forced himself to say. "No." He groped at nothing, and then Draco's hand clasped his again.
"Sir, I think he might be calmer if someone he knows is there."
"Very well." The Healer sounded impatient. "But you'll have to Apparate separately. With him in this condition, it won't be safe for me to try to take you by Side-Along as well."
Draco squeezed Harry's hand, and let go. There was a crack, and Harry felt the dizziness of Apparition. He choked and nearly spewed again, but another crack sounded and Draco was there once more, his presence soothing.
"Well, young man, it looks as if you had a busy time of it, but we'll soon have you put right." Harry held onto Draco's hand as he was taken down to the ward.
Then there was pain, and potions and spells and Healers muttering in corners where they thought he couldn't hear. Day and night and day again, although Harry couldn't keep track of the time. His memory seemed shattered, splintered into shards and fragments, and the night of Voldemort's death mercifully blurred. He drifted, half-dreaming, distantly aware that there was always someone with him; often Hermione, or Neville, or Luna. Sometimes Draco, although Harry didn't understand why Draco Malfoy would sit with him. Perhaps there was no one else available?
Slowly he healed, and at last there was a day when Harry walked out of St. Mungo's on his own two feet, out into the clean air. He walked alone, needing to think, to put his mind into some kind of order before he had to talk to anyone else. Only snatches of that night remained; he knew what had happened, had heard it from the friends who'd sat with him, read it in the Daily Prophet, but his own recollections were just bright sparks. a few moments illuminated amid a waste of black unreality.
He remembered the duel with Voldemort only vaguely, the jets of light from their two wands, the sounds of battle around them. The expression of surprise on Voldemort's face as he died remained as clear in Harry's head as if it were etched there. He'd collapsed afterward, he knew, but none of those details had stayed with him. He didn't care about that anyway. Except. Harry frowned to himself, and his pace slowed. Someone had been talking to him, before he reached the hospital. It hadn't been Hermione, because she'd told him yesterday that she'd spent most of that time trying to keep Ron from bleeding to death from a Sectumsempra cast by Rastaban Lestrange.
Harry looked around. He was nearly to the house at number twelve Grimmauld Place. It wasn't exactly an ideal home, but it was his, and he could be alone there. The Weasleys, kind as they were, felt overwhelming just now. Neville had said that Dobby was thrilled at the idea of being able to work for Harry, so it wasn't as if he'd have to take care of the house all on his own, even.
After greeting Dobby and assuring him of his gratitude, Harry wandered into the room where the tapestry with the Black family tree hung. He touched the spot where Sirius' name had once been, remembering his godfather now with sadness but not despair. Tracing the golden threads, he saw the burned spot for Andromeda Black – Tonks, of course, had never been there – and then the lines showing Narcissa Black's marriage to Lucius Malfoy, and their son.
Draco! The memory returned with sudden force. It had been Draco who had talked to him, keeping him awake until the Healers could reach him. An image of a rope looped around the two of them came into Harry's mind. What had Draco said?
Alone in the room, Harry turned red at the recollection. I love you... I'll take anything that you're willing to give me. You can kiss me or fuck me or even tie me up and beat me, those had been Draco's words. Harry squirmed at the realization that the idea of it was making him hard.
No wonder Draco had been one of the people who'd stayed with him in St. Mungo's, then. But he'd never said anything since... maybe he regretted it? Or maybe he had just been saying whatever nonsense came into his head to keep Harry awake and alive?
He thought it over, again and again, the following weeks. Owls came and went, bearing letters, but the only person he saw was Hermione, once. She seemed to understand his need for solitude, and promised to explain it to Ron – he was still recovering, anyhow, something about curse interactions that Harry didn't quite grasp.
The first leaves were turning red and gold when Harry sat down and wrote a letter to Draco, asking him to visit the next afternoon, and to stay for dinner if he wished – reply only if he couldn't come.
Draco seemed as self-possessed as he always had been when he arrived, his fair hair gleaming in contrast to the dark green robes he wore.
"I think I was here a few times as a child," he said, looking around. "Bit depressing, isn't it?"
"It's better than it used to be," said Harry defensively. He'd made some efforts to go through and get rid of the gloomier furnishings, with Dobby's help, and to make certain that no doxies or other undesirable creatures had returned. "But we can sit in the garden, if you like."
He felt more relaxed once they were out in the air, his Muggle jeans and jumper seeming less scruffy against Draco's polished appearance. Dobby brought them tea and a plate of biscuits before disappearing to prepare dinner.
Harry wasn't certain where to begin. He watched Draco stir sugar into his tea and take a sip.
"I guess you recovered all right, then?" Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry, who nodded.
"Yeah... you know that, though, you sat with me part of the time."
"But you just left one day." Draco's voice was clipped. "I came in to sit with you and you were gone. I'd have thought you simply didn't want to speak to me, except that Longbottom said he hadn't seen you either."
Draco had asked Neville how Harry was? To cover his astonishment, he took a large bite out of a ginger biscuit and nearly choked. When he'd cleared his throat with a sip of tea, he said, "I'm sorry about that. I just... I needed time to be alone, to think about everything. I haven't seen anyone in weeks; just Hermione, once, a fortnight after I came here. She insisted."
"I see," said Draco slowly. "I'm the first person you've asked to visit you since you got out of St. Mungo's?"
"Yes." Harry fiddled with his teacup. "I, uh, I'd forgotten a lot of what happened the day I was injured. But I've remembered some of it, now." He risked a glance at Draco. "You were the one who waited with me until the Healer arrived, weren't you?"
"That's right... Hermione said someone had to keep you awake, because of your head injury." Draco looked wary. "What else do you remember?"
"Um." This wasn't how Harry had planned it. "You were talking to me, telling me not to sleep, telling me... telling me you loved me." He hesitated. "Did you mean what you said?"
Late afternoon sunlight turned Draco's eyes to silver. "I... yes. I'm sorry, I really didn't think you were in any shape to remember anything, I didn't mean to... to embarrass you or whatever. I should go." He pushed the wrought-iron chair back, scraping it roughly over the stones.
"No! Don't go. Please."
Draco paused, halfway risen, and sank slowly back down into his seat, watching Harry intently.
"When I remembered, it took me by surprise. Of course. But, um." He felt his face turning red. "I couldn't help but be... flattered, at least."
Harry didn't feel like telling Draco that once he'd gotten over the shock, he'd been using it as fodder for wanking ever since. "I don't want to, what was it, tie you up and beat you" – that was a lie, oh god how the idea turned him on – "but I would, uh..." He wound down in confused hesitation.
"Would like to kiss you. To fuck you." In the end it was easier to say than he'd thought it would be.
"You would?" Draco's eyes widened.
"Yeah." Harry swallowed. "If you still want it too."
"I've wanted that for... a long time," said Draco in a low voice. "Not likely to change." Then he was kneeling in front of Harry's chair, his face turned up, and Harry had bent forward to kiss him for the first time.
It wasn't that he'd never kissed anyone before; he had kissed Cho, and Ginny too. Draco was more assertive than either of the girls, though. He might have waited for Harry to make the first move, but within seconds Draco's tongue was sliding between Harry's lips, tasting, twining about Harry's own tongue.
Bending down made Harry's neck ache, after a bit. He pulled away. Draco made a noise of protest, staring glassy-eyed up at Harry.
"I don't want to stop either," said Harry, "but Dobby will have dinner ready soon and I don't want us interrupted."
Draco shook his head. "Just tell him not to. He's a house-elf, he won't care."
"But I will." Harry took a deep breath. "Please. I promise I won't change my mind in the next hour or two. You said that night you'd take whatever I was willing to give you."
"I did, didn't I?" said Draco with a little grimace. "Not very clever of me... and don't take it as meaning I'm giving my will up entirely to you. But all right. Today at least, you set the terms." For someone as flushed and needy-looking as Draco, his voice was serious. "In the future... well, we can talk about that another time."
As Draco stood up and went back to his chair, Harry unclenched his fingers from where he'd been gripping the edge of his seat. Draco had meant it... and was already thinking of the future.
Wanting to bring the tension between them back to something more manageable, until they'd eaten, he blurted out, "What have you been doing for the past few weeks?"
"Going through my parents' house with Ministry officials," said Draco. "My father got rid of a lot of stuff, but they didn't trust his word about that. They wouldn't let him be present for the searches, either, but since I fought on 'the right side,' you know," he emphasized the words with a shade of bitterness, "I was allowed to be there to represent the family."
"Oh." Harry felt awkward. "Have they finished?"
"About three days ago, finally." Draco snorted. "They confiscated a few things, but there was nothing that was truly dangerous anymore. I'm glad I was there, though, or some perfectly innocent but valuable items might have gone astray. Don't look so shocked, Harry."
"I'm not," Harry protested. He was, a little, although he knew he shouldn't be, after what both Fudge and Scrimgeour had tried with him.
"Anyway," said Draco tiredly. "It's just as well you didn't owl me until yesterday... but I'm glad you did."
"Me, too." Harry fidgeted. "Wait here. I'm going to go see if Dobby has dinner ready, okay?"
Dobby did, and was happy to serve it outside, if that was what Master Harry wanted. The food was delicious, but Harry didn't really pay attention to it; all he could think about was watching the way that Draco ate, how his throat moved when he swallowed, the shine of a drop of water that clung to the edge of his lip before he licked it off.
"You're staring at me."
Harry jumped. "Uh, sorry." He looked at his plate and decided he'd eaten enough not to be hungry for a little while. He pushed it away.
"It's all right." Draco smirked, and Harry relaxed a little at the familiar expression. "I'm finished, I think. Did you want to...?" his voice trailed off suggestively.
"Yeah." Harry had had Dobby bring a heavy wool blanket to spread on the lawn. The grass needed trimming, but Harry preferred that to the regimentation he'd grown up with at the Dursleys'.
Draco stretched out, staring up at the darkening sky. A few stars were already visible. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course." Harry sat down beside him.
"Why didn't you talk to any of your friends, these past couple of months? Why did you ask me here tonight, rather than one of them?"
"Oh." A kaleidoscope of emotional memories went through Harry's mind: the hard pleasure when he'd refused to shake Draco's hand; the triumph when he'd snatched the Snitch right from under Draco's nose; the sick feeling when he'd cast Sectumsempra and seen Draco bleeding on the floor; the wonder when he'd remembered that it was Draco who had stayed with him after Voldemort's death. He took a deep breath. "Because even when we hated each other, I felt more alive around you than anyone else. And... I've felt numb, since I left St. Mungo's. So I guess I hoped that seeing you would..."
"Bring you back to life?" Draco was looking at Harry now, his pale face still visible in the dusk. "I'm flattered. Has it worked?"
Instead of answering right away, Harry leaned over and kissed Draco, a hard demanding kiss to which Draco responded without hesitation.
"Yes," he said huskily when he had to stop for breath, guiding Draco's hand to where his cock made a bulge under his clothes. "I'd say it has."
Draco rubbed along the length of it a few times, then unzipped Harry's trousers and slipped his fingers into the fly of Harry's pants, pressing cool against the heat and need of Harry's skin. "I want you inside me."
The simple statement nearly undid Harry. He swallowed and nodded. "I've never, um..."
"That's all right," Draco murmured. He took off his clothes swiftly as Harry watched, then helped Harry do the same. Draco's cock was scarlet in its nest of fair curls, and tentatively Harry reached to stroke it, eliciting a moan. "Wait, let me just..." Draco reached for his wand and murmured a spell, then repeated it twice, and suddenly there was slickness under Harry's fingers and the same slickness on his own cock.
Somehow he was kissing Draco again, more softly this time, learning the taste of his mouth and the sensitive spots on his lips, his face, his neck. Draco was thrusting through the circle of Harry's fingers, touching Harry seemingly everywhere at once.
"Now, Harry, please." Draco had pulled one knee up, rolling a little to the side, exposing himself. He guided Harry's cock to rest at his entrance. "Slowly... god, yes, like that."
Draco's hole was hot and tight and slippery from the spell as Harry pushed inside, his eyes fixed on Draco's face. Draco winced, and Harry paused.
"No, go on, it's fine," Draco told him, and a little doubtfully Harry did, until his cock was completely enveloped and his bollocks nudged Draco's arse.
He began to move then, the rhythm slow at first but picking up when he saw that Draco's face had relaxed. The hand propping him up slipped and his angle shifted. Draco gasped. "Fuck, there, that's it!" Draco had taken hold of his own prick and was working it in counterpoint to Harry's movements, and Harry watched his eyes fall shut and his expression twist in bliss.
When Draco came, groaning, he splattered sticky strands across his own stomach and Harry's both, his arse clenching around Harry's cock, and the unexpected sensation sent Harry over the edge, pulsing his release deep into Draco's body, crying Draco's name.
The stars winking above them shone reflected in Draco's eyes, silver in dark pools, as Draco breathed, "Love you, Harry," and Harry held him tight, savoring the feeling of a happiness he had forgotten could exist, believing that they could make it last forever.