(no subject)

[minervaalistor.livejournal.com]

Title: Safe House
Summary: Harry and Draco are sent to a safe house for their own protection
Rating: Will be NC-17
Pairing: H/D
Author: minerva alistor



Harry sat straight up in the bed at the sound of the knock. For a moment, he thought the body that his hand was resting on was Ginny’s, but the stuffy sense of the tiny room he was in reminded him at once where he was. He raised his wand, which he now kept on hand at all times, and slowly got up. Malfoy moved not a muscle.

Just before Harry reached the door, there was another knock. It was not quite light outside yet, and though Harry suspected it was someone from the Ministry knocking at the door, he knew better than take that for granted. He gave a quick look out the window and, sure enough, spotted Mad Eye Moody, levitating a large trunk in the air next to him. Another man that Harry didn’t recognize was standing behind him, himself holding a bag. With a smile, Harry opened the door.

“What are you grinning about, Potter?” Moody pushed Harry aside as he entered the shack, maneuvering the trunk in front of him.

“Hallo to you too, Moody.”

Harry stuck his hand out to the other man.

“And hallo to you. I’m Harry Potter. Nice to meet you.”

The man smiled and took Harry’s hand.

“And an honor to meet you, I must say. We all owe you quite a debt, I believe. Reginald Flyntworth.”

Moody interrupted this line of discussion, knowing full well how uncomfortable it made Harry.

“He’s Malfoy’s personal Healer. Insisted on checking up on him. ‘S alright though, we’ve got to get a few more things settled anyway.”

“What’s in the trunk?” Harry asked, thankful for an excuse to break away from Flyntworth.

Moody, who had been an Auror for so long, was scoping out the living room. He turned to Harry, his magical eye fixed on his face as if he could see through to his brain.

“No one slept on the sofa bed last night?”

Harry shrugged. “Have you ever tried to sleep on that thing? It’s awful. I slept in there with Malfoy.”

Moody raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“We’ve brought you some more food, some games and such, and oh,” Moody dug into his pocket, “I’ve got a letter from yer lady.”

Harry snatched the letter from Moody as soon as he produced it, but was distracted from reading it by the entrance of Malfoy.

“Oh great. He’ll be wanking in the bathroom again before the day is out,” he drawled. He shuffled across the living room with an exaggerated swagger and plunked down on the couch. “Hello Reginald.”

Harry glared at him and tucked the letter from Ginny into his back pocket.

“So, what else do you need to sort out with me?” Harry asked Moody. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the Healer opened his bag and started checking Malfoy over.

“Not much. It’s amazing how quick they can throw these places together. We’re going to have to get a supply of hairs from the two of you, and –“

“What for?” Harry interrupted. He was now watching raptly as the Healer checked Malfoy over. He had always been fascinated by magical medicine. Currently, Malfoy had his neck titled back, exposing his long white neck with its thick pink scar. The Healer was dropping a red liquid that looked eerily like blood into his eyes.

“We’re making decoys. Polyjuice. Shacklebolt is going to be you –stay at your place and what not—“

“What about his wife and kids?” Harry asked in a snide tone.

“And I thought I’d be Malfoy. I haven’t been pretty in a while, plus the Manor is nice digs. Tonks is going to be Ginny outside of Hogwarts—“

“What?” Harry interjected over Draco’s laughter. Apparently, he found Moody’s joke about being pretty rather funny.

“Potter! Stop interrupting me! We’re watching all the Weasley’s –your mate Ron’s rather a pain in the arse, bloody traveling with his team all over – and keeping an especial eye on Ginny! She’s not allowed to leave Hogwarts, but Tonks will be participating in all the Hogsmeade weekends as her. We’re hoping to flush out whoever did this to him,” Moody answered, jerking a thumb towards Draco. After letting Harry stew a minute, he turned to Draco.

“You haven’t happened to remember anything else, have you?”

Draco looked cross. “I told you the other day, I don’t remember anything. They put some sort of curse on me so that I couldn’t see anything, hear anything, say anything, or move anything. All I could do was feel. And that was quite enough, thank you.”

Healer Flyntworth moved in between Draco and the Aurors.

“Please, I beg you. He is still quite ill. Don’t upset him. In my opinion, he should still be in hospital, under twenty-four hour care.”

“What, so they could come back and finish him off?” Moody growled.

“I’m fine, Reginald,” Draco said from behind the Healer, though his voice sounded anything but.

“Yes, well, I’ll be the judge. Roll up your sleeve. I need to do a scan.”

Draco rolled the right sleeve of his jumper, revealing several very deep cuts, running long way from his wrist to the bend of his elbow.

“No, Draco, the other. I can’t do anything with this arm in that state.”

Once again, Draco looked exceedingly cross. He rolled down the one sleeve, hesitated a moment, then rolled up his left.

And there it was. Black, ugly and evil against his perfect white skin. The Dark Mark.

Harry stared at the mark as the Healer ran a small silver device that looked like a rolling pin back and forth over the tattooed flesh. He had known since that day in Madame Malkin’s that Malfoy was marked, but seeing it was an entirely different thing. His face flushed with anger as memories of the other times he’d seen that mark flooded his mind.

“Perhaps you’d like a photo, Potter?” Draco drawled.

Harry quickly cut his eyes away.

“Let’s unload this trunk, Potter,” Moody said.

Harry turned his back on Malfoy and the Healer and bent over the trunk with Moody. He heard the Healer say “You’re blood pressure is still extremely low, Draco. I’m going to leave this Blood Restorative Potion with you, make sure you take it three times a day for the next week at least.”

“Psst. Potter,” Moody hissed in Harry’s ear as they bent over the trunk.

Harry leaned closer.

“When you can, try to talk to him about his attack.”

“Do you think he’s hiding something?”

Moody swivelled his eye around to the back of his head to make sure that the Healer and Draco weren’t paying attention to him and Harry. No matter how many times he saw Moody do that, Harry still got creeped out. Just before Harry was about to look away in disgust, the eye swivelled back around onto him.

“No, but maybe his memory has been tampered with. And anything you can get out of him might help. We’ve got nothing to go on right now.”

Harry nodded in understanding.

They finished emptying the trunk just as the Healer started packing his things.

“I hope you’ve provided them with food for a healthy diet. Mr. Malfoy needs to rebuild his strength.”

Moody gave the man a look of shock.

“Healthy food? Lord no man! Why would we do that? We’d much rather send off one of our most valuable men and feed him swill so he gets nice and ill, now wouldn’t we?”

Draco laughed again and Harry had a hard time not doing so himself.

“Well, just make sure. I’m not sure the Ministry appreciates how close to death Mr. Malfoy came when he was attacked.”

“Oh, we appreciate, Mr. Flyntworth. We’ve got a lot more experience with the Traitor’s Fate than you do, I’d be willing to bet my other leg. Alls I can say is, at least our guys broke through before they got the boy’s tongue!”

“Barely,” Draco spat.

Harry was intriged. The Traitor’s Fate was a specifically designed Death Eater murder, symbolic in everyway. First the victim was sanguinated to the point of death, left too weak to fight but awake enough to register what was happening. Then the tongue was pulled out, twisted into a knot, and cut out of the victim’s head.

“What do you mean, barely?” Harry asked.

Draco did not answer but turned back to his Healer.

“Is there anythign else, Reginald?”

“We need hair, Malfoy!” Moody reminded them. The Healer took out a pair of tweezers and started plucking hairs from all over Malfoy’s head.

“Just lots of rest, lots of fluids, and that Blood Restorative. If you don’t start feeling remarkably better in four to six days, have the Ministry contact me. Understand?”

“Yes. Will you please tell my mother hello the next time you see her?”

A look of what could only be called pity passed over the Healer’s face.

“I’m going to check on her tomorrow. I’ll certainly tell her, though I doubt seriously that--.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, cutting the Healer off mid-sentence. He stood and shook the Healer’s hand, then disappeared into the bedroom.

“His mother’s alive?” Harry whispered. “I thought both of his parents were still missing.”

Moody shook his head. “Potter, you need to start paying attention. Narcissa Malfoy has been at St. Mungo’s for over a month. Incurable Ward. They tortured her until she went around the twist. Now, is there naything else you need?”

“No,” Harry answered. He was in shock. While he could appreciate the poetic justice of what had happened to Narcissa Malfoy, his pity for Draco only increased.

Moody pulled out a small baggie.

“Well, then, start plucking your own hairs, boy. Unless you want Mr. Fancypants over there to do it for you.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

To Harry’s great surprise, Draco appeared again as soon as Moody and Flynthworth left.

“Did they bring us anything good?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ve got lamb chops, caviar, foie gras, French champagne,”

Draco snorted at him.

“All champagne is French, you idiot.”

“No it’s not. I’ve had some from California before.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Yes I have! I saw it on the bottle.”

“Oh never mind,” Draco said. He opened the little fridge and peered inside. “Pathetic,” he muttered.

Harry decided to ignore him and read his letter from Ginny. Draco, drinking a Coke, sat down next to him on the little sofa. He watched Harry read for a second with interest.

“So, is the Weaslette missing your long, drawn out sexathons?”

Harry shot him a withering look.

“I only got off that fast because you were in the next room, Malfoy.”

“Well, Potter, I am flattered. But I really have to ask, do you still think it’s a good idea to sleep together?”

“Oh shut it. You know what I mean,” Harry said. He turned back to the letter.

“Is she angry that you’ve been sent here?”

Harry sat back on the sofa, a worried look on his face.

“Honestly, she seems more angry that she’s being followed by the Ministry and can’t leave Hogwarts’ grounds.”

“Hmmm. You know, the two of you getting together really is rather annoyingly predictable.”

Harry lowered the letter to his lap. Draco had finally gotten his full attention.

“Really, Malfoy? Because everyone else seemed quite surprised.”

“Well, they are a rather thick lot, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yes, you’re so fucking smart. That’s why you ended up with that ugly great tattoo on your arm,” Harry spat.

Draco’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I’m smart enough to figure out that you’ve practically adopted the Weasleys as your family, you poor, sad little orphan. What better way to make yourself a permanent member than by marry the youngest child and only daughter? I mean, really, out of all the girls at Hogwarts, did you never think it a bit odd that you just happened to fall in love with your best mate’s sister?”

“That had nothing to do with it! In fact, it almost kept me from going out with her!”

“Oh really? Is that why you snogged her in front of your entire house before she’d even broken up with Dean Thomas properly?”

“Shut up, Malfoy! For someone who can’t even remember who tried to rip his tongue out his head day before yesterday, you certainly have a lot of insight into everyone else’s lives.”

Draco stood and glared down at Harry.

“I told you, my eyes were blinded, my ears deafened and my body paralyzed. What’s your excuse, Potter?”

And with that, he stormed off to the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry sat on the sofa, absolutely fuming. How did Malfoy do this to him? It had been nearly two years since he’d since him, and on the first occasion that they’d actually spoken, Malfoy had driven him into an absolute rage.

After Harry calmed down a little bit (quite a while later) he was able to answer the question of how. Whenever Malfoy taunted him, the taunt always held a little grain of truth. He was able to tear at Harry’s weak spots like no one else.

Which of course led Harry to wonder if he was only attracted to Ginny because she was a Weasley.

But it also led Harry to realize that unless something was done, and immediately, he and Draco would likely kill one another by the end of the week. They both had horrifying tempers, and while Draco was slightly more in control of his, Harry knew he was pretty good at making him loose that control. He thought hard, recalling how Dumbledore had dealt with Draco, always keeping calm and speaking logically to him, even when the Slytherin had been threatening to kill him. Harry knew that, if he could manage to keep his head, he might just be able to deal with Malfoy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry knocked lightly on the door.

“Malfoy, I’ve made dinner. You should come eat.”

Harry pressed his ear to the door so that when Draco flung it open, he fell over into the other man’s shoulder.

“Get off me,” Draco snarled.

Harry followed him silently into the living room, breathing deeply and steadily to keep his temper in check.

Harry had set their dinners on the coffee table, side by side. Draco rushed forward, grabbed a plate and made to go back to the bedroom. Harry stopped by standing in front of him and raising his hands in a surrendering gesture.

“I was hoping we could talk for a minute, Malfoy.”

“About what?”

“The situation that we’re stuck in here. I was hoping we could get some things straight.”

Draco got that deer in the headlights look he always got when someone took him off guard, which Harry had obviously done with his kind tone. Harry watched as he battled himself for a moment. Then he took a seat on the sofa.

“I’m listening,” he said as he picked at his food.

Harry sat down next to him, encouraged. He picked up his own plate.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll agree that under the circumstances, we’re not exactly the best pair to be stuck in such tight quarters for an indeterminable amount of time.”

Draco snorted.

“But, as miserable as the situation is, I think you’ll agree that it would be a lot better if we were at least civil to one another. I know we don’t like each other, and I’m not asking you to make that leap, but we are the only people we have to talk to for the next….bit, and I can’t see continuing on as we did this morning.”

Draco was chewing slowly, eyes glued to his plate. They were quiet for a long time.
Finally, Draco spoke.

“That does make sense.”

Harry’s shoulder sagged in relief.

“Good. So. How long have you known that Healer?”

Draco stared at Harry in disbelief.

“Small talk, Potter?”

“It’s a start.”

“He’s been our family Healer since before I was born. He delivered me.”

Although Harry could think of a million things he’d lvoe to ask Malfoy, he felt they were all rather questions about explosive subjects. So another long bout of uncomfortable silence ensued.

“It’s getting dark,” Draco said at last.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

“I was thinking I was going to try and start going to bed at sunset so I could get up at dawn. Get the entire day that way.”

“That’s a good idea,” Harry agreed.

Draco sat his plate on the coffee table.

“I guess that means I should shower now. You can still sleep in there if you’d like.”

“Um, thanks,” Harry answered, though he’d been planning to sleep in the bedroom all along.

“Um. Okay then.”

Harry looked down at the empty plates on the coffee table and sighed. Realizing that the next several days were probably going to be highly uncomfortable, he rose, put the dishes away and waited until Draco had gone to bed and fallen to sleep before joining him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day started off rather strangely.

“Potter.”

“Humph?”

“Er. Could you let me up? I have to go to the bathroom.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered open. Weak sunlight was filtering thorugh the windows. It was barely dawn.

“What?” he said, raising up slightly.

“Your arm, Harry.”

It was only then that he realized that his arm was draped over Draco.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t …”

“No worries,” Draco said, a bit too congenially. He literally jumped out of the bed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry figured out by the fifth day in the shack that Draco’s idea of being civil meant speaking to him as little as humanly possible. The only conversation they had that consisted of more than ten words had been a discussion about keeping the shack clean.

“Malfoy, no offense, but I’m not here to clean up after you. It’s bad enough I have to cook every day and night.”

Draco looked up from the book he was reading.

“I don’t do housework, Potter. I’m not a house elf.”

It wasn’t a gibe, it wasn’t a taunt. It was one of the more sincere things Harry had ever heard Draco say.

Forcing down a smile, Harry said “Yeah, well, this isn’t exactly the manor and I’m not a house elf either. So you’ll have to help.”

Draco regarded him for a moment.

“Okay.”

And he went back to reading his book.

For as little as Harry learned about Draco during the day, he learned quite a lot about him at night. Whatever he had been through since being taken from Hogwarts, it haunted his sleep. As his strength returned, his sleeping became more and more troubled. He whimpered and mumbled, tossed and turned. He had woken Harry three nights out of the six they had been there by screaming loudly. His body, unlike most people, became tense and stiff while he slept. His face, instead of slackening in slumber, was tight and drawn throughout most of the night.

Harry knew this because he spent a lot of time watching Malfoy sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On the seventh night of their confinement, Harry woke when Draco’s body jerked particularly hard. Harry was wrapped around the blonde, spooned behind him with one leg thrown over his thighs. Without even thinking, he kissed the back of Draco’s head and cooed “It’s okay, Draco,” over and over until he settled down.

The next morning, he had been mortified and sick with worry that Draco would remember. Draco, however, seemed more rested than usual and, if he did remember anything, said nothing at all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The eighth day of their confinement started rather disturbingly.

Harry had never really studied the male form before. He wasn’t homophobic, he certainly noticed when another man was handsome, but he’d never really looked at a man’s body before.

But Draco hadn’t closed the bathroom door all the way. The bathroom was such that it was really just a shower with a toilet and a sink shoved into it. There was no curtain to conceal the shower as a separate unit. And from the bed, Harry had a perfect view of Draco Malfoy, taking a shower in the dim morning light. He was skinny, not just thin, but skinny. His hip bones jutted out and made his long legs look as if they were joined to his body by puppet strings. Harry could see every rib, and Draco’s collar bones served as a hanger from which his torso hung. His stomach was nearly concave. His backbone looked like a row of silk covered buttons down the back of a moonlight colored wedding gown. Other than the scar on his neck and the Dark Mark on his left forearm, Draco Malfoy’s skin was flawless.

Harry hurried to the living room and, in record time, wanked into the little sink where they did their dishes. He was washing his cum down the drain just as Draco came into the living room and asked what was for breakfast.

Harry whirled around.

“I miss Ginny,” he said.

Draco stared blankly at him.

“Sorry about that , Potter, but I’m still hungry. What’s for breakfast, or do I need to learn to cook now too?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair in agitation.

“No. I’ve got it.”

Draco sat on the sofa and pulled out his book, but his eyes were firmly on Harry, whose hands shook so violently that he dropped a frying pan and the tea pot.

“Potter, are you alright?”

“I miss Ginny,” Harry said again, forcefully.

“Whatever,” Draco said. At a complete loss, he started to read.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That night, Harry tried to sleep on the sofa bed. He tried to think of every time he and Ginny had had sex, but his mind kept turning back to Draco in the shower. He had a painful hard on that he was afraid to acknowledge in any way. He lay on the couch and willed himself to think of Ginny, Ginny!

From the bedroom, he heard Draco scream in his sleep.

Harry didn’t move. No matter how loud Malfoy screamed, he was not going into that bedroom. He was not.

He lay for several more mintues, listening to Malfoy, who was now whimpering. It disturbed him so much that his hard on subsided at last. Considering that a good sign that he was safe, he got up and went to Draco.

He crawled in the bed and behind Draco, who was curled into a ball and actually shivering, despite being under several layers of blankets. Harry slipped his hand underneath and began rubbing Draco’s back in slow, steady circles.

“It’s ok, Draco,” he whispered, close to Draco’s ear.

Draco’s whimpering ceased almost at once. In seconds, his shivering stopped and he relaxed a bit. Harry sighed and moved closer.

The circles he was making on Draco’s back became broader, running around the perimeter of his shoulder, down his sides and over the curve in the small of his back. Before Harry knew what was happening, he was pressed against Malfoy’s back and his hand had settled on Malfoy’s chest. Harry’s nose was in Draco’s hair, which was brushing about his nose, stirred by his heavy breathing. Smells had always had a profound effect on Harry and Draco smelled heavenly. It was clean, soapy almost, a faint scent of salt and underneath, something smoky and sweet, like freshly baked pound cake. Harry’s lips settled on the tense muscle at the curve of Draco’s neck.

Draco stiffened him at once.

“Potter, what are you doing?” he whispered. It wasn’t an angry whisper. If Harry hadn’t been sucking on his neck, it could have been taken as a very innocent question.

Harry tore away from Draco with a jolt.

“Malfoy, I’m sorry. Really. Oh shit, please, I didn’t mean…”

Draco rolled over to face Harry. His face was amused, his eyes mischeivous. He reached over and, hooking his arm around Harry’s back, pulled himself against Harry.

“You really do miss your girlfriend, don’t you?” Draco whispered, lips touching Harry’s.

The mention of Ginny cleared Harry’s head like nothing else could have. With his usual knack for spotting a weakness, Draco had honed in and struck with painful accuracy. Harry attempted to push him away, but Draco only pulled him closer and, instead of whispering against Harry’s lips, kissed him properly.

And just like that, Harry’s head was clouded again. It wasn’t the kiss he would have expected from Draco, if he’d expected one. It was soft, undeniably sweet. It was a question, a suggestion, and an opportunity for Harry to stop it, if that was what he wanted, or to keep going and see where it led.

Harry pulled away, but only by inches.

“What are you doing?” he whispered to Draco.

“I’m not sure. But like you said, we’re stuck here together for Merlin knows how long. Maybe we could….it doesn’t have to mean anything. This sort of thing happens all the time when people are –“

Draco’s words were cut off by Harry kissing him.

This was the kiss Harry would have expected between him and Draco. This kiss was hard, unapologetic, competitive and so very hungry it was almost painful. Harry pushed Draco onto his back and settled forcefully on top of him. Beneath him, Draco moaned.

The sound went straight to Harry’s hips. Roughly pushing Draco’s thighs open with his knees, Harry thrust against Draco’s bony pelvis with relish. Draco gave as good as he got, hands digging into Harry’s ass.

Harry’s body sang, it screamed. This was something entirely different than rolling around with Ginny. She was so small, he always worried that he was going to hurt her in his enthusiasm. He always held a little something back. But Draco was his size, solid, and just as strong. And clearly not worried about being hurt. This was animal, raw. This is what it felt like when he was duelling two wizards at time and his life depended on defeating them. This was heaven.

Harry broke off the kiss and tugged at the jumper Draco was wearing. Draco tore at his t-shirt, literally leaving a rip along the neck. Another gnawing kiss ensued and then Harry reached for Draco’s pajama bottoms.

Draco grabbed his hands.

“Potter!”

“What?!” Harry panted, tugging at Draco’s bottoms.

Draco stilled his hands again. He waited until Harry looked him in the eye.

“Are you sure?”

One of the things Harry liked most about sex was the power he felt by making someone else come. He loved touching, stroking, and coaxing almost as much as he liked having it done to him. The thougth of having that kind of power over Draco was too much. The one person he had never defeated, at his mercy in the most vulnerable way possible was almost too good to be true.

“I’m positive,” Harry growled.

Draco let go of his hands. Harry ripped his bottoms and pants off and threw them across the room. He wrapped his hand around Draco’s erection and stroked him as hard and fast as he could.

It was everything Harry had thought it would be. The way Draco gasped “yes” sounded almost like Parsletounge, his eyes rolled wildly behind the shut tight lids, and his thighs tightened pincerlike around Harry’s. Harry nearly came just watching him.

But if he thought Draco was going to go quietly, he was sadly mistaken. After he adjusted to the sensation of Harry’s hand on him, he paid back with a vengeance, mirroring Harry’s every move, staring him defiantly in the eye. Suddenly, it was a contest, just as it had always been between them.

Harry attacked Draco’s neck. Draco used his free hand to pinch Harry’s nipple. Harry gasped loudly and shuddered. Ginny had never even touched his nipples before, much less pinched them, and, like everything else about this night, it was an incredible new thing. Closer now by far, but still determined not to fall over the edge before Draco did, Harry changed tactics. He very tenderly licked the shell of Draco’s ear and then blew on it, something he had never done before. He nuzzled softly into the side of Draco’s neck, dragging his lips along the pulse point there instead of kissing, and slowed down the strokes on Draco’s cock. When Draco keened in his ear, Harry went in for the kill, biting down on his neck hard enough to bruise and squeezing his cock so tight it was almost painful and stroking him brutally.

“Oh fuck!” Draco cried as he came, arching against Harry and doing what he could in retaliation. But it wasn’t necessary. As soon as Harry had felt the spasm of Draco’s orgasm, he had come too, whining into Draco’s neck.

When it was over, Harry rolled off of Draco, more to catch his breath than anything else. Considerate boy that he was, he kept one hand in Draco’s hair so that they were still connected. Draco, though, seemed wholly unconcerned by this. Before Harry could even think about how to handle the aftermath of what had just occurred, Draco got up, went to the bathroom and wiped himself off. He stepped back into the bedroom, threw the towel to Harry and got dressed while Harry cleaned himself off. Standing in his pants, he looked around the floor.

“What’d you do with my pajamas?”

“Um, I think they’re out there,” Harry said, pointing to a lump just outside the bedroom door.

Draco went over, poked the lump with his toe; it was indeed his bottoms. He slid them on and came back to bed.

“Get dressed, Potter. I’m not sleeping with you naked.”

Harry, feeling incredibly awkward, did as he was told.

“Draco, that was –“

Draco turned to him.

“Stop now, Potter. That was getting off, nothing more. It meant nothing, and don’t get confused about that. Now shut it and go to sleep.”

Stung to the core, the incredibility Harry had been feeling was gone in the time it took Malfoy to turn and show him his back. Harry laid down and scooted as far as he could away from Malfoy, bitterly aware that, despite having come first, the blonde was still undefeated.

It was their tenth night in confinement.