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deathishauntedbyhumans · 8 years

Text

Need You

I think I spent... 5 hours on this? At least five hours. Lordy lordy, do I need a life. Oh well, I’m sick. What else does one do when they’re sick? We’re totally continuing this via email, too...

TW: Anorexia, eating disorders, body dysmorphic disease. Draco has been struggling with his body image for years. He and Harry have never really been “BFFs” despite being sorted into the same house (Slytherin). However, when Draco mistakenly asks Harry for help after being put in the hospital wing, a tentative friendship --or more?-- begins to bloom between them.

Stranger: [draco and harry have never gotten along, despite both boys being sorted into slytherin house and having to share a dormitory and circle of friends. they’re constantly competing, attempting to show the other one up, putting the other down, always seem to be on the brink of hexing each other into the hospital wing. unbeknownst to anyone, however, draco has been dealing with body dysmorphic disorder and consequential bouts of anorexia ever since he was twelve. he’s seventeen now, in his final year of schooling, and is angular, thin, and quiet. the rivalry between him and harry have fizzed out, some, but never enough for them to call a truce. this is an alternate universe where the war never happened. if harry’s parents passed or are still alive is up to you, as well as if he is still friends with ron and hermione. the pair is communicating via enchanted notes, and draco meant to send this to pansy, but mistook her bag for harry’s.] I need you to bring my things to the hospital wing after class. DM

You: The hospital wing? HP

Stranger: Yeah, I'm fairly certain you know where it is. DM

You: Why are you in the hospital wing? HP

Stranger: Because. DM

Stranger: Can you please just bring my homework down? DM

You: I guess, sure. Yeah. HP

Stranger: Thank you, owe you one. x DM

You: This was probably the strangest thing that had happened to Harry since... well, actually, on a scale of strange things that had happened to him in his years at Hogwarts, this would likely be rated pretty low on the scale. He and Draco had never gotten along properly, but they hadn't gotten into any sort of arguments in... quite a while. However, they weren't exactly /close/. Draco signing a message with an 'x' didn't exactly seem normal, but if he was in the hospital wing, maybe it was just whatever injury he'd ended up with? He had noticed that Draco wasn't in class. A bit hard not to, given the fact that Harry had a little bit of a habit of staring at the back of the blond head whenever he sat in front of him. He wished it was a class with the Gryffindors; he could have used Hermione's insight on the note. Regardless, he packed up his things after class, stopped by the dorm and picked up Draco's schoolbag, and then headed towards the hospital wing.

Stranger: Draco had no clue that he had accidentally managed to contact Harry Potter, of all people, and so when the other Slytherin poked his head in the doorway of the hospital wing and was holding Draco's school bag, he bristled slightly. It was a natural instinct; he had always felt more on-edge around Harry than anyone else, which could have been due to their competitive, unfriendly nature, or to something else entirely, which Draco wasn't keen on thinking about for even a moment. He, of course, pushed that thought out of his mind and instead focused on looking as aloof and healthy as possible, sitting up a bit straighter in the hospital wing's bed that he was currently occupying. "I think I mistook your bag for Pansy'a, but thank you regardless," Draco greeted Harry, keeping his tone even but cool, not friendly but not mean. He wasn't in the mood to deal with any form of sassy remark. Collapsing on your way to classes didn't really make one very conversational, and Draco could only hope that Harry wouldn't ask about whatever odd tubing was attached to him. Draco personally had no idea; he'd been unconscious and woken up like this.

You: The lighting in the hospital wing was low as he walked in; it usually was. Harry had had more than enough experience with the wing in his time here at Hogwarts. He'd always liked the atmosphere better than muggle hospitals; it was much calmer, more homey. His features dragged into a soft frown as his gaze landed on Draco, though. He was in a bed near the back of the wing, the curtains drawn only halfway around him. There was tubing connected to him, too, tubing that looked strangely muggle in design. He drew nearer slowly, nodding once at the expression of thanks. "That makes more sense," he admitted, gently setting the bag down on the side of the bed, within arm's reach for when Draco chose to grab at it. He made to step back, but hesitated, the frown growing deeper as he took in Draco's still form. He was paler than usual, and his eyes... the normally sparkling silver was dull. It made him look half-dead. "Are you... Are you alright?" he asked uncertainly, pausing where he stood, a step away from the bag and the bed.

Stranger: "You must have been confused by the kiss at the end of the note, yes. Sorry about that," Draco said with a half-smile, not really letting it touch his eyes. He was almost glad that Pansy hadn't come down to see him, because she would go off and lecture him for ages, and Draco really wasn't in the mood, if he was completely honest. He was well aware that his habits were unhealthy, and he didn't want to explain to her any of his odd, perhaps compulsive, reasoning behind why he behaved the way he did. It didn't make sense to himself, so why would Draco even share? He glanced down at the bag that Harry placed down for him, wanting to wait for the other to leave to make a grab for it, but.. Harry didn't leave. The question of if he was all right had Draco's eyes widening, head snapping up to look at him, something almost vulnerable laced in his expression before Draco tried to compose himself. "I think I'm just under the weather, Harry," he said after a moment, lying, but keeping his voice oddly soft and calm. "You've no need to worry, but.. It's nice of you to ask."

You: Despite the reassurance, Harry /was/ worried. Draco looked like he'd been through hell and back, and it didn't make sense. If it was something as simple as a cold, or the flu, there were spells that would have him feeling better much sooner than using muggle technology. The fact that he was hooked up to a bunch of tubing made the offhanded comment seem like a lie. "Is there... anything I can do?" he asked, still unsure. This was new territory for him, sure, but it would be worth it if he could make that dead look go away. They may not have gotten along like best mates, but they were /housemates/, and they'd shared a lot in the same dorm over the years. Plus, he was certain he'd seen something like fear pass over Draco's features at the question, which was odd in itself, and deserved at least a little more digging into the subject.

Stranger: Draco bit his lower lip, tongue darting out to brush over it in the most soothing manner that he could. His lips were always dry, now, always cracked, and he knew that if he just drank a little more water, he wouldn't have that problem, but water made him look more bloated and dead than he already did, and Draco really wasn't in the business of looking like a /fat/ corpse. He sucked in a soft breath as Harry asked if there was anything he could do, and Draco couldn't think of a blessed thing. But.. He could tell, just from the way that Harry stuck around when he didn't have to, and the way that he was asking these questions, that he really did want to help. Draco wracked his brain, trying to think of something, and ended up asking, "Could you check the back of the bag on this.. Machine, for me? I really don't know what it is, I didn't check." Maybe that would help Harry feel a touch more at ease? Draco didn't even know what he was hooked up to, to be honest, or why it had to be given intravenously like Muggle medicine.

You: Someone had to have been in on this, Ministry or otherwise, if there was a Muggle machine functioning properly inside of the castle. After all, he'd seen what had happened when a first year Gryff a few years back had tried to smuggle a handheld game into the castle. It had very essentially gone rogue, imbued with the magic that the very castle itself seemed to emit. They'd /all/ seen it, and it had served as a reminder for the students to keep Muggle technology firmly to themselves at their respective homes. Of course, that didn't make it impossible, and this here was the proof. "Sure," he agreed, because really, what else was he supposed to do? He stepped awkwardly around to the other side of the bed, following the tubing to the machine that he'd been hooked up to. There were multiple bags, and each had a lot of long words on it, with smaller writing underneath on one of them explaining its usage for dehydration. He didn't know if he could pronounce the medical terms if he tried, but it was /some/ insight into what was going on. "I think it's just... medication," he ventured after studying the bags for a minute or so, finally glancing over at Draco again. The question went unspoken, but he was sure that Draco knew he'd still be confused and curious as to the reason he was here in the first place.

Stranger: It was quite obvious what Harry was trying to ask without directly asking it aloud, and Draco wasn't going to give him a satisfactory answer. He wasn't able to try, nor did he think that Harry would actually understand any of it. How does one explain, 'the person I see is different than the person you see, when we look at me' without sounding like a damned fool? And while Draco knew certain magical cures existed for dehydration and malnutrition, he was aware that they weren't as permanently affective as Muggle medications could be. Draco had no bloody /clue/ how it was working, and he supposed he'd have to ask that annoying Granger girl if he wanted to know anything more about it. "Does it say what the medication's for?" he inquired, wanting to know if it said what he thought it did. Madam Pomfrey, while unfriendly as all hell, was a brilliant Healer when she put herself to it, and probably knew what was going on. "I suppose I'm dehydrated. I've not been drinking enough water," he admitted, opting to tell Harry that one specific aspect of what was going on.

You: "Dehydration," Harry responded, just as Draco admitted openly that that might've been something he was dealing with. He gave a tiny huff that might have been amusement if this situation hadn't seemed so serious, and nodded slowly. "So... yeah. That's one of them," he added, dropping his fingers from where he'd placed them on the bag to try and follow the tiny writing. "This one has something about... malnutrition? There's a lot of writing here, but it looks more like alphabet soup than actual words," he admitted. He'd never been one for studying medicine, and he'd never even considered Healing as a career option. Right now, he wished he'd paid it at least a little attention. He frowned a little, though. Malnutrition and dehydration. Neither of them sounded anywhere near good, and they would definitely account for how bloody /thin/ Draco was, and how it had seemed to get worse as the years went on. He wondered if this was the first time he'd ever ended up in the hospital wing for it. "I know you take studying seriously, but maybe drinking more water would be a good idea," he said, though his attempt at sounding friendly and making a gentle joke probably fell flat. It really was concerning.

Stranger: Draco was almost relieved that he was being treated for the right things. If he cared enough about himself to actually take care of himself, then he would be more than happy to be the only person treating himself. That, of course, would mean drinking more water, and eating more frequently - eating things with more quantity, but Draco wasn't keen on doing that, either - and Draco wasn't really looking to do either of those things. "If I could read it, I would tell you what it means. I'm always curious about these sorts of things," he replied, not meaning to sound as if he was /smarter/ than Harry for knowing something that he didn't. Harry knew more about defence against the dark arts than Draco did, and Draco knew more about Healing than Harry did. It wasn't a competition, for once, and that felt odd. He bit his lower lip again as his housemate suggested not studying as much, and Draco shrugged, forcing a chuckle out that, well.. That sounded just as forced as Draco was making it. "You know, Harry," he started, shifting to sit up and look at him, a slight smile - a genuine smile - tugging at his lips. "If you wanted to help me, you'd help me get out of this without bleeding everywhere. I'm well enough to move about, now, and would really just prefer my own bed over this one. I'm sure you know how uncomfortable these are," he added, attempting to get Harry to help him.

You: Harry's eyebrows flew up at the suggestion, though he automatically shifting the tubing a little as Draco sat up so that it wouldn't pull at him uncomfortably. He glanced around briefly for any sign of Pomfrey before looking back at Draco, a ghost of a smile beginning to tug at his own lips as well. "You're not wrong," he agreed wryly, stepping away from the machine with the bags and towards the bed and Draco again. "I'll help you, but only because I know you're going to try and shove out of it if I leave you here, anyways," he said, though he sounded more amused than anything else at the notion. The smile fell a little as he looked down at where the tubing was connected to him, poking under his skin. "...I have absolutely no idea how to get you out of this without bleeding all over the place, though," he admitted. Healing really wasn't something he'd ever looked at or into, not even a little bit. He was much more interested in DADA, in curses and jinxes and hexes. This was a whole new realm, and he was pretty bloody sure Draco knew more about it than he did. He looked up at his face, again, though, as though he'd just made a firm decision. "But if you can figure it out, tell me what to do and I'll do it."

Stranger: "I will absolutely rip the needle out and let myself bleed all over the place if you don't help me, you're right," Draco replied with a bit of a grin himself. This was something that he knew none of his mates would do - they would assume he was there for his own benefit, they would force him to stay - but Harry, Harry understood. Harry knew that Draco wanted to leave, and he knew that if he didn't do it, Draco would do it himself. "I didn't think you would. Right, so.. I think what we'll need to do, is I need you to keep firm and steady pressure right here," and Draco brushed two fingers along the vein where the needle was placed, glancing up at Harry to make sure he understood, "And then I'll pull the needle out. I'll definitely bleed, but if you keep your hand where I tell you to, it'll stem the bleeding long enough for me to get my wand and ensure that it heals properly. Understood?" Draco asked, arching a brow briefly at the other Slytherin. "Ready?"

You: It was funny, actually, that the two of them hadn't gotten along well in their first few years together. Draco had been incredibly set in his ways, and he'd been rude about it, both to him and to the people he'd begun to call friends. When they'd been sorted into Slytherin together, Harry had expected his entire Hogwarts experience to be a nightmare--and the first few years had definitely been. However, as they'd gotten older and begun to understand more about life, Harry, at least, had realised that they really weren't so different. They were both incredibly stubborn, and knew what they wanted and how to go about getting it. If Pansy had been the one to get the note, Harry doubted she would have actually assisted him in leaving the wing. However, he /got/ it. The hospital wing could only stay cozy for so long. He could do this for him. "Ready," he responded, after watching very closely to make sure that he had all the instruction he needed. "Ah! Wait," he exclaimed, his glance moving from Draco's arm to his wand, which was positioned very much away from him on the bedside table. He shifted it closer, so that it was within reach for him, and then placed his hand atop the vein where Draco had indicated. "Okay. Now I'm ready."

Stranger: Draco couldn't help but grin, a real and genuine grin, as Harry moved his wand closer to help him. He didn't thank him, not verbally, only waited for when the other said he was actually ready. Draco steadied himself, reminding himself that this was going to hurt, and once Harry's hand was firm and warm on his vein, Draco reached with his free hand and tugged the needle clean in one swift motion, letting out a soft, pained, "/Fuck/," as the needle slid out of his body and on the floor. Draco leaned over and quickly grabbed his wand, murmuring mending spells and healing spells under his breath, tracing his wand over the bloody spot on the back of his hand, and once it was healed enough, he let out a sigh and murmured, "Can move your hand." Once Harry's hand was out of the way, Draco stood, swaying slightly where he stood, and before Harry could comment on that, brushed it aside with, "Don't worry, just - steady me." He could walk, he definitely could, but Draco wasn't keen on falling over.

You: Harry watched, impressed and fairly admiring, as Draco muttered the spells he needed, as his skin knitted itself back together. No matter how many times he saw it happen, it never ceased to amaze him. Especially now, since Draco was performing the spells on /himself/. He wiped his hand on his robe once he'd let go, getting the excess blood off onto them without thought, and reached out to do just what Draco asked right before he'd asked him to. He had a hand on Draco's arm just as he asked to be steadied, and he simply nodded, his grip tightening a little to be sure that Draco didn't fall. He made a mental note to ask Pansy if this had happened before, and scooped up Draco's bag as they passed the other side of the bed on the way to the door.

Stranger: It was a relief to have someone else nearby, to have someone else willing to help spring him from the hospital wing. Draco didn't want to deal with Pansy's disapproving stares when he emerged from the hospital wing and came back to the common room alone; this time, he had an accomplice. Harry could have said no, of course, and that would have solved Harry's problems, but Draco still would have gotten up and gotten himself back to the Slytherin dorms, one way or another. He was merely glad he had someone to assist him. "Thank you," he murmured, voice soft and a bit shaky, as he was trying to focus more on walking than on the steadiness of his own voice. "Pansy never helps me leave," Draco added, throwing in a slight laugh as he did so, shaking his head as they left the hospital wing without much incident. His body was pressed quite firmly into Harry's side, soaking up the warmth and hoping he wasn't too cold.

You: As Draco shifted closer to him, leaning on him rather bodily in order to walk, Harry shifted his grip, sliding his arm around Draco's shoulders and shifting his weight so that he was supporting most of Draco as they moved through the quiet halls. They were missing dinner, he realised belatedly. Not that it mattered much to him, but... well, if Draco had been dehydrated and malnourished, it probably wouldn't be great for him to miss a meal. He made a(nother) mental note, this time to rummage through his trunk when they got back and to see if he had anything left over from their last trip to Hogsmeade, and tuned in as Draco spoke, his voice shaky. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," he said with a huff of amusement before the statement caught up to him. 'Pansy never helps me leave.' Implying that this hadn't been the first time; it had happened before. It had happened /multiple/ times before. Huh. Concerning. "She always yells at me when I leave shit in the common room... I can only imagine the lectures."

Stranger: "'Why don;t you let Madam Pomfrey do her job, Draco. Why do you want to leave the hospital wing, Draco'," Draco imitated Pansy's voice, albeit poorly, and rolled his eyes as he leaned a bit more against Harry, his own arm sliding around the other's waist, since Harry had an arm around his shoulders right now. "She's wonderful, I promise, but she can be quite the stickler for rules at times." Draco shook his head a bit, not really wanting to think about that right now. As they passed the Great Hall and Draco breathed in the scent of the roast they had for dinner tonight, his stomach audibly growled, and he flushed a pale pink, just in the cheeks. "Don't ask if I'm hungry, because I'm not. Seeing my own blood quells my appetite, believe it or not," he murmured, just trying to make sure that Harry wouldn't attempt to feed him when all Draco wanted was to lie down in his bed and rest. He managed a slight smile, stumbling over his feet briefly before fixing it, and replied to Harry's comment with, "Then don't leave things in the common room, Harry."

Stranger: [brb!! x

You: Harry could /feel/ Draco trembling against him, and he had a nasty feeling that if they didn't hurry things along, Draco would be back in the hospital wing a lot sooner rather than later --or, you know, ideally never. He shifted his grip again slightly and made no comment to the strong hold Draco had taken around his middle. He'd much rather be the one anchoring him upright than be the idiot that dropped him on his arse in the middle of the corridor. "It's not like I try to!" he protested, rolling his eyes. "It just happens. She doesn't seem to understand that." He glanced towards the Great Hall as they passed it, and then glanced at Draco, who seemed intent on avoiding his gaze. He hadn't planned on asking him to go in there with everyone, especially with the fact that Pansy'd likely be waiting for them at the table. He had chuckled softly at the imitation, though. "The best thing for you is to rest," he stated firmly, despite the growing concern that there was something bigger going on that Draco wasn't letting him know about. He really did need to question Pansy.

You: ((NP!))

Stranger: Draco let out a soft laugh, trying to conserve his energy so that he could continue to walk. He had an emergency stash of chocolates that had been gifted to him by his mother for his birthday, and he supposed tonight would be the night to dig into those, just for a little bit, anyway. "You're as absent-minded as a Gryffindor, you know," he replied wryly, managing a slight smirk at Harry as he made the comment. Draco almost missed that he used to be able to banter with Harry better, and more often - he just wasn't as good as he used to be, as the years had gone by. A small price to pay, he supposed, for the ideal body image that he had been consistently working towards since he was thirteen and first realised he was /hideous/. "What, and you'll tuck me into bed, will you?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes and trying to ignore that the idea of being taken care of was really bloody appealing. They made their way down the corridors and to the dungeons, Draco pausing and trying to remember the password before giving up, outright resting his head on Harry's shoulder and murmuring, "I can't remember the password."

You: "You wound me, Malfoy, you know that?" Harry joked without malice. He knew that a lot of Slytherins --and Gryffs, for that matter-- still held onto their rivalry like it was their saving grace, but Harry had outgrown that before he'd even been sorted. After all, two of his best friends were Gryffs. That had been strange, at first, especially with Ron so self-conscious about it, but they'd gotten through it fairly painlessly. And by painlessly, he meant that they'd ended up in a near-fistfight before realising they were both idiots and laughing about the whole thing. "I mean, if you really want me to," he returned, batting his eyelashes towards Draco, who'd finally looked at him again now that they were past the smell of food wafting out from the Hall. The little grin stayed on his face until they reached the entrance to the common room, when Draco seemed to give up properly and laid his head down. Harry squeezed his shoulder lightly, meant to comfort, and recited the password himself. "Tacet serpens percutiens," he said, voice quiet, mindful of the careful breathing from Draco beside him, like he was measuring the breaths to try and sound normal. He helped Draco into the room, glad that most of their peers were still up at dinner. They'd chosen a good time to make their escape, it seemed.

Stranger: "I wouldn't object to being tucked in, since you've been so kindly guiding me. Maybe you should have been a Gryffindor, as noble and chivalrous as you are, hmm?" Draco asked, keeping his tone light and teasing. He felt like he was growing weaker by the second, though, and he really should lie down. He wasn't sure how long it would take for him to wake up - he had once slept for fourteen hours without waking, and not for lack of trying on the part of others, and Draco was fairly sure that had happened the last time he had felt this way. Nevertheless, he persisted and kept pace with Harry as they went into the dorm, quietly repeating the password to himself to try and remember it better next time. His brain was foggy these days. "Would you do me another favour?" Draco asked, as they entered the boys' dormitory for their year, as Draco still clung to Harry's side. "I've my trunk underneath my bed, if you could open it and retrieve a red-labelled packet of chocolates? You can have some as well, if you'd like. I just think that I might like one, right now," he admitted, hating to have to eat in front of someone else who would, most likely now see that he was actually quite awful and disgusting when he ate, when any food was ingested into his body.

You: Despite the teasing, Harry grabbed his pillow and tossed it onto Draco's bed as they went by it, since his own was closer to the door. He helped Draco to sit down, and then placed his pillow on top of Draco's, shifting them so that Draco could sit up without exerting himself. He hadn't been oblivious to the way he'd been holding onto him, or the death-grip he'd had on his robes. Speaking of which... He tugged off his robes, tossing them towards his bed and leaving him in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. It was a lot comfier, if he did say so himself. "Oh, yeah. Sure," he responded easily, blinking. He'd had nearly the same plan, but to look in his own trunk. Huh. Oh well. He could always do that later. Chocolate was at least something. He knelt down at Draco's bedside and pulled out his trunk. It was much more organised than his own, unsurprisingly. "How the hell do you keep everything so neat?" he asked, not really expecting an answer as he shifted things about. It didn't take him long to find the sweets, and he pulled out the box, opening it and setting it on the bed. "These?"

Stranger: Sitting down easily onto the softness of his own bed, Draco was suddenly aware of two things: the first was the loss of Harry's warmth beside him, and the second was the distinct scent of Harry's pillow - fresh, line pine, and also oddly.. Clean. Comforting. He pushed that last thought away, refusing to believe that that was something he would normally associate with Harry. it was only due to the situation. Nevertheless, Draco carefully took off his robe, leaving himself in a jumper and jeans, both of which seemed quite loose on him, compared to how they had been previously in the year. "I like to be organised," Draco replied, arching a brow at the question that had been asked of him. He let his eyes shut for a moment while Harry searched, and when he heard Harry ask if the box was it, he opened them again. "Yes, that's it, thank you," Draco replied, gratefulness evident in his tone. He leaned forward, slowly, and took one, popping it into his mouth. His mother had made them specifically for him, adding in elixirs to help calm him when he was anxious. They had the side effect of making him a touch honest, however. "You can have one, if you'd like," Draco offered, gesturing at the box.

You: Harry shut the trunk again with a click and slid it back underneath Draco's bed, using the frame of it to help him stand again. "Mm.. maybe in a minute," he said, glancing briefly at the chocolates before pushing the box a little closer to him and taking a ginger seat on the side of the bed. He was pleased to see Draco eating something--more pleased than he probably should have been, normally. And if he were honest with himself, if it had been anyone else, he would have been /concerned/, yes, but this was a whole new level of worry that Theo or Blaise or even Ron wouldn't produce. It was a thought that he'd had before and come to terms with, or a train of thought at the very least. "I've probably got some dried stuff in my trunk, too," he said, considering Draco a moment before deciding his own comfort was more important than awkwardly sitting there. They'd already passed awkward when Harry had practically dragged him back to the dorm. So he turned, leaning back against the foot of the bed, his legs bent and feet just barely touching Draco's legs to the side of him. "In case you're hungry for something that's not sweet."

Stranger: "Swear they're good, mum made them for me," Draco replied, his voice soft and murmuring, lilting a bit as he spoke, as he was feeling a lot more relaxed. The chocolate dissolved in his mouth and Draco let his tongue flick out, over his chapped lips, feeling quite satisfied with himself and a lot less hungry, just for the one chocolate. His eyes widened slightly as Harry got comfortable and got on the bed with him, his feet briefly touching his legs, and Draco naturally inclined towards the touch, turning his body a bit so that he was more or less angled towards Harry. His eyes flickered to the other boy's face, meeting his eyes - a really pretty green, /wow/ - and nodding slightly. "Maybe," he replied evasively, shrugging a bit and offering Harry a slight smile. "Thank you, though. Nice of you to offer." Draco fell quiet for a long moment, just relaxing, and then he slowly let his head move to rest on Harry's shoulder again, needing the warmth that he had missed previously. "I don't understand why you're as concerned as you are," he said after that long moment passed. "Would you be so concerned for anyone else?"

You: He made sure that he didn't jostle the pillows much, as Draco had relaxed pretty fully against them, and Harry didn't want to risk doing something to jolt him from the relaxed state he seemed to be falling into. He didn't expect Draco to shift towards him, or to lay his head on his shoulder the way he'd done at the entrance to the common room, but he took it in stride as much as he could. "I don't know," he said, mostly honest. "I mean... maybe? Probably not?" he said, reaching almost absently for one of the chocolates. He bit one in half and hummed softly. "Mm. You weren't kidding; these are good." He chewed it thoughtfully, watching as the outside of other half began to slowly melt between his fingers. "Bickering with you was never really about being angry with you," he stated, his thoughts crossing each other and somehow clamouring to get out. "Well, maybe those first couple of times. But you were always so /alive/, y'know?" He snorted, popping the rest of his sweet in his mouth. "That sounds ridiculous. Maybe I am turning into a Gryffindor," he said wryly. "I don't know. It's strange to put it into words, but--" He licked the chocolate from his forefinger, then his thumb. "You've always been able to be my equal, whether it was Quidditch tryouts or bickering or anything. Seeing you like this... It's shitty, I s'pose. And I know I'd want some help, if it were me."

Stranger: Draco let out a soft breath, his eyes closing fully as he listened to Harry speak. His voice was relaxing, somehow soothing in a way that Draco had never heard before, and he enjoyed it. He enjoyed that voice when it was hurling insults at him and when they were talking trash and spitting shit as good as they got it, and he had to physically bite down on his bottom lip to prevent himself from actually saying that thought aloud. It was far too embarrassing. "I told you. Mum makes good food," Draco replied, his voice sounding almost lazy and drawling with how perfectly relaxed he was. Whatever charm she had placed on the sweets was strong enough to work wonders on him. He felt a slight pang as Harry said that seeing him how he was now was shitty - shouldn't he just focus on himself, then, and retreat to his own bed? "Why don't you just not look, then, if it makes you feel poorly?" Draco questioned, not a hint of malice in his tone, only curiosity. "Why place someone that you're not all that fond of before yourself?" He didn't acknowledge the idea of needing help - Draco was fine as he was, and he didn't need any help. Just someone to lean on now and again.

You: "What?" Confusion coloured Harry's tone as he looked over at Draco again, though the glance offered no insight into the meaning of the question. Draco looked... well, just about as out of it as he sounded, actually. "No, that wasn't what I..." He shook his head, letting his head thunk back against the head of the bed again. "That wasn't what I meant. Not that seeing you is-- That's ridiculous. I just meant it's a shitty situation. And that you're obviously feeling shitty, which... I understand. If I were in your place, I'd appreciate someone understanding, and not just lecturing me about it," he added with a small smile, shifting the shoulder under Draco's head in a little nudge, in reference to their earlier conversation about Pansy. "Besides, I didn't say I'm not all that fond of you," he corrected offhandedly, shaking his head again, though he didn't raise it from the headboard. "You put those words in my mouth." He could feel himself relaxing; the warmth of Draco's body against his own was almost shockingly welcome. He could only hope that Draco was feeling more comfortable here, too, than he'd been when he'd been in the hospital wing.

Stranger: Oh/," Draco breathed out, letting his breath carry most of the syllable. He hadn't been expecting that. He was used to people who used him for his name, or who merely befriended him to get a glimpse of what it was like to be someone with as much power and wealth as his father possessed - because until that man died, Draco wouldn't touch any of it, that was for sure. That had been taught to him many a times, often with a strike of the back of the hand across his face, the cane against his knees, or any number of things that his father deigned to use when Draco was being particularly disobedient. "I'm - I appreciate you not lecturing me. It's refreshing," Draco admitted with a soft smile, aiming it at Harry the best that he could. He let out a soft yawn and he waved a hand, his wand in the other, drawing the curtains closed around his bed as he felt Harry relax beside him. "You can get up at any point you want, but I'm feeling quite relaxed, and tired," Draco murmured again, his words soft and sweet and slow.

You: It was a little unfair, just how Draco's voice had changed in the past few minutes. He was obviously exhausted, and his voice was breathy and soft. There was almost a sweetness to them, a gentle lilt that Harry had never heard before, but immediately knew he wanted to hear again. He had to fight to quell a yawn of his own following Draco's, and he couldn't tell if it was his own sleepiness making it happen or if it was just a knee-jerk reaction to seeing the other perform the action. Whatever it was, though, he didn't really feel like getting up. It was probably strange, choosing to stay, but they were both calm and warm, and the dormitory was quiet. Harry figured he could stay there at least until Draco fell asleep, though he knew he'd probably catch hell from Ron and Hermione later for not seeing them at all after classes or at dinner. Oh well. He could come up with an explanation, or attempt to explain the truth, though with the way Hermione and Draco got on (read: the way they still bickered like they were first years), the former might have been easier to weasel away with than the latter. "Get some sleep," he said, his voice voice soft and calm in the otherwise silence of the room. "Merlin knows you could use it." He found the box of chocolates with one hand without moving much and picked it up, noticing how much heavier it seemed when he did so. Strange. Maybe he was just more tired than he'd thought he was. He set it on the nightstand next to the bed and, after a moment's deliberation, set his glasses beside the box as well.

Stranger: Draco let out a soft, soft yawn, curling his body entirely on his side that he was fully facing Harry, now, and he clutched at the other boy's shirt, slim, pale fingers curling in it and holding on tightly as he nestled in even closer, not aware enough of his own actions to condemn them and deem himself as absolutely fucking insane. "You too, please," Draco murmured, unsure if Harry even heard what he said. The last thing that Draco heard was the soft sound of something settling on his nightstand before he was absolutely out of it, perfectly asleep and feeling unbelievably warm and safe, despite who he had fallen asleep with. When Draco woke next, it was in abrupt panic, jolting upright and then letting out a low groan, his head aching and his world spinning as he had sat up too quickly. Draco tucked his face back into the warmth beside him - Harry's neck, he realised upon inhale - and pressing closer, pretending to be asleep as an excuse to wrap his cold, shaking body around the warmer boy's. Maybe Harry would stay for just a little longer, if he thought that Draco needed him to.

You: With the exhaustion settling into his very bones --when the hell had that even happened?!-- Harry found himself more than willing to fall asleep there beside Draco. Thoughts that he'd come to terms with and set aside floated idly through his mind, especially as Draco curled up closer to him and grasped a fistful of his shirt, his face tucked away gently against the side of his neck. After a few minutes of fighting the sleepy haze invading his head, Harry gave up; he was nearly certain that Draco had already fallen asleep, and so if he wrapped an arm around him and snuggled a little closer... Well, he was just getting comfortable, alright? The sound of a quiet, pained groan brought him floating back into consciousness some time later. The dormitory was dark, nearly pitch-black, and Harry had a feeling it was somewhere near the middle of the night. The sound of a loud snore later, he confirmed the thought. Theo snored like a fucking troll, he always had. Draco was still curled up against him, which should have been unsurprising, given the way they'd fallen asleep together, but somehow, he found himself surprised regardless. It was a... good sort of surprise, though, especially since Draco's body was completely curled into his own, and both of his arms were around him instead of just the one he'd slid around his shoulders before falling asleep. Draco's breathing was too fast for him to still be asleep, which meant that whatever had caused the groan had likely woken him up. He was trembling, too, shaking even worse than he had on the walk back here. Harry found himself frowning a little and tightening his arms around Draco without saying a word, silently offering the comfort he had a feeling Draco wouldn't ever verbally bring himself to accept. Here in the darkness, though, maybe it would be alright.

Stranger: It was comforting to have someone beside him, and Draco realised that once Harry left, he would be sorely missed, though Draco would never once say that, to Harry himself or to anyone else. Why would he? It was pointless to ask for and even more pointless to simply wish for it. Draco did feel the boy's arms tighten around him, though, and he nestled as close as he possibly could. Harry was either awake or slowly rising back to consciousness, and Draco let out a soft, warm breath against his neck, the tip of his nose and the curve of his lips pressed to warm skin without him even trying to make it anything more than a regular cuddle. But as far as Draco knew, Harry was asleep, and.. And he couldn't be mad, could he? He couldn't. "Thank you," Draco murmured, breathy and soft in Harry's ear, against his skin, and his lips pressed a soft, tentative kiss to the smooth underside of his jaw before relaxing again, trying to calm himself back to sleep.

You: That was... not what he was expecting. Not unwanted in the slightest, no, but definitely... definitely not expected. Harry only barely managed to keep himself from reacting when the realisation zinged through him like lightning that, oh /Merlin/, Draco had just kissed him?! He could feel the affect to the very core of him, like something had suddenly sat on his chest and squeezed his lungs. Did that mean that Draco was enjoying this? That he wanted more? Or was Harry just reading into it too much? There was... ugh. There was too much to think about, and honestly? Harry was still tired. Plus, Draco was slowly calming again, the shaking subsiding into something much more manageable, and it was /late/. Much too late to be having a crisis about whether or not Draco had meant anything by the gentle, dry kiss he'd just laid against his jaw. Merlin. No, okay. This was fine, and he could figure it out in the morning, when he was more awake. Ideally, when they were both more awake. So he didn't say anything, didn't respond with words. He merely moved his hand slowly, steadily, until he found one of Draco's and gaze a soft squeeze, letting it rest there on top of Draco's hand as he tried to stop /thinking/ and just go back to sleep.

Stranger: Draco fell easily back to sleep, comforted by his thought that Harry had no idea of the grateful gesture Draco had given him, and he was even more comforted by the slight touch to his hand, the squeeze that he interpreted to be coming from a rather sleepy Harry, and he was perfectly happy with this, with all of this. He dozed easily, letting his whole body relax, still wearing his clothes from the day before. When Draco next awoke, it was definitely daytime, but he was unaware of anyone disturbing his four-poster bed, as the curtain hadn't been disrupted. It was likely that, before falling asleep, Draco had warded it. He often did that even when he was sleeping alone, but now he felt as if he had someone to keep safe with him, and that someone was still beside him. Perhaps it was earlier than he thought; any light that came in through the portholes was often magical in origin, simply because the Slytherin dormitories ended up underwater. Draco let out a soft yawn, and realised with a start that he had rolled on top of Harry during the night, and was now quite comfortably splayed on top of him. Draco lifted his head, blinking blearily down at the other boy. "Harry," he mumbled, voice soft and sleepy as he getly nudged the other with his thighs. "/Harry/."

You: Harry must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he was aware of was an insistent nudging to his leg, and a voice thick with sleep whispering and then mumbling his name. There was a gentle pressure against his entire body, and he was actually loathe to open his eyes, strange as that was. More often than not, he tried to wake as soon as he could, merely given the fact that his overactive mind had a tendency to make up the most horrid things while he was sleeping. He gave a quiet hum, hoping it would urge the assailant away, but blinked his eyes open when it failed to work. And... Oh. Draco. Right. He'd fallen asleep with Draco at his side, and... had he just dreamt the whole thing? It was possible; Draco /had/ been the last thing he was thinking of before he'd fallen asleep. Huh. It was disappointing, but right now he had bigger things to think about. He could worry about pining later. "Huh," was all he said, blinking up at Draco's blurry face. Apparently, he'd become Draco's mattress sometime during the night. "Good morning," he tried, tilting his head back against the pillow --one had, apparently, fallen down to the side of the bed-- and squinting a little to try and bring some focus to his features. It didn't really work.

Stranger: It took an awfully long time for Harry to wake up, as far as Draco was concerned, and when he finally did make a noise, it wasn't even intelligible. Draco was about ready to grump at the other boy, possible nudge him again - maybe in the ribs this time - but then he heard Harry's morning voice properly, almost raspy, almost /deep/, and Draco felt like he could melt. He sort of did, really, unable to stop himself from smiling. "Don't squint, you haven't got your glasses on," he mumbled, and kept his balance on top of Harry while stretching over to fetch his glasses, carefully sliding them onto Harry's face. He wasn't even aware of the way that he gently brushed aside some of the wild black locks from Harry's face afterwards, instead choosing to cuddle back down and on top of Harry, hoping he wasn't crushing him with his weight. "Sleep well?" Draco asked, voice soft still. He stifled a yawn, burrowing it into Harry's neck, and then added, "Sorry if I'm crushing you. Can roll off."

You: Or... maybe he hadn't imagined it? Draco was surprisingly cuddly in the morning, Harry observed somewhere in the part of his brain that had actually awoken enough to speak. This wasn't odd, right? To go from barely speaking to each other past what they absolutely had to with their mixed friend groups and classes to cuddling like this? It wasn't too strange. (Alright, it was a little strange, but Harry wasn't complaining in the least.) He blinked again as Draco's face came into a sharper focus, though his eyes fell shut at the shockingly tender little gesture of Draco lightly pushing his hair from his forehead. It was all so... /nice/. "Yeah," he responded, sure that he sounded a little wonder-struck and resisting the urge to add an explanation as to why that was so incredible. Draco didn't need to be bothered by the weird crackpot shit his mind came up with. Most of the time, Harry himself didn't want to deal with it. "Nah, y'don't have to move. 's comfortable." In fact, Draco's weight, while warm and comforting in its own right... Well, he really was thin. Thinking about it, Harry probably could have carried him to the dungeons the night before, without even breaking a sweat. And that, combined with the malnutrition/dehydration thing... He really needed to try and figure out what was going on. "You sleep alright?" he asked, stretching his arms a little before letting them fall back down, loosely settling in a rather protective manner over Draco's back.

Stranger: Draco wasn't sure why Harry was talking so oddly, as if he was surprised, but then.. But then he became acutely aware of the fact that he was lying on top of Harry, rather affectionately cuddling into him, lying on /top/ of him, and maybe that was a bit odd. Maybe Draco was behaving a bit oddly, but even though he had realised it, he was making no moves to stop this behaviour. And he probably wouldn't until someone mentioned it or made it obvious, whether that was Harry, himself, or someone else taking notice of it. Draco was really hoping that none of that would happen, that they would cease cuddling of their own accord without the added awkwardness of commentary. "Slept really well," Draco replied, stifling a yawn and hiding his face away in Harry's neck. If he sat up, he would be straddling Harry, with the way they were positioned, so Draco was quite glad they were lying down. His arms were looped around Harry's neck, resting on one of the pillows, and he let out a soft breath against the warm skin near his lips, thinking of the light, gentle kiss he'd given to this same skin earlier. "How about you?"

You: Harry let out a soft huff of laughter, opening his eyes again and watching the breath ruffling the stray blond hairs in front of his face. "You already asked me that," he reminded, though his tone was soft, almost fond. "I slept well, too. Better than I have in a while, I think." Was /that/ strange? To admit that sleeping next to Draco was a good experience? ...Oh, fuck it. If it was strange, it was strange. Harry wasn't going to back up now, just because it might be a little weird. After all, Draco'd said he'd slept well too, so if it was strange, they were in it together. He played his fingers rather absently along Draco's back, feeling each bump of his spine without thinking about the movement. "How're you feeling?"

Stranger: "Mmmm, sorry, didn't remember. Bit foggy," Draco murmured, only feeling the lightest of flushes reach his cheeks. The rest of him was cold except for where Harry was touching him, and Draco had the urge to burrow in as close as he absolutely could get, because Harry was warm, and good, and definitely much safer than anyone or anything else in this dormitory. He inhaled a bit and held his breath as Harry ran his fingers down his back, a light shiver running along Draco's spine with every vertebrae he touched. Draco had always been a bit sensitive to other's touch, to other's magic, and he ended up pressing even closer to Harry as a result, his lips parting briefly against Harry's skin before closing again as he moved slightly away - his head, at least - to reply. "Warm, I think," he responded, eyes still half-closed. "Tired. Thirsty." Draco paused, and then asked, "And yourself?"

You: Now, this was completely unfair. As Draco wriggled against him, apparently trying to get as close as he possibly could, Harry found himself desperately thinking of /anything/ besides the solid warmth of the body currently snuggling against his own. Because, while sexuality really wasn't anything new for any of them --something he'd found out was apparently different in each House, after a very awkward conversation with Ron about it-- now was /really/ not the time to get a hard-on. /Fuck/. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, glad that Draco's face was still very much tucked in against his neck so that he wouldn't be able to see any weird expressions passing over his face. "Warm is good," he responded, incredibly proud that his voice remained the same as it had been, despite the less-than-wholesome thoughts running through his head. "Tired and thirsty are easy to fix." His fingers stopped at Draco's lower back and slid back up again, slow and steady. He still wasn't wholly aware he was doing it, or that it was the touch that Draco was responding so enthusiastically to. "I feel... good. Happy. Warm, too," he admitted, opening his eyes again, unable to hide a small smile at that lovely mop of blond hair tickling his nose.

Stranger: Draco couldn't help the rampant shivers that ran up and down his spine, almost as if his nervous system itself was teasing him, and Draco would have been more embarrassed if Harry could see his face. Thankfully, the other couldn't, and therefore he had no idea how pink Draco's face had gotten, or how red-bitten his lips had become from trying to muffle the odd whine and whimper here and there, simply from being /touched/. Merlin, he was sensitive, and one could certainly claim that about him and have it be true, but Draco would endure a thousand other types of torture before admitting that. "Yeah?" Draco asked, a bit surprised at that, smiling so that his lips brushed against the soft skin of Harry's neck. It was warm, the pulse beating against his own cheek when he turned his head, and Draco let out a soft, pleasant sigh, his body subconsciously rolling onto Harry's, hips rocking just slightly - not on purpose, /never/ on purpose - but Draco was unaware of the struggle it might be causing the boy lying underneath him. "Feels good, with you.. Touching my back," Draco let out after a moment, pressing his face even further into Harry's neck, fingers clutching at his shoulders. Hopefully Harry wouldn't be upset with that.

You: "Hm?" The fingers stilled, momentarily, as Harry finally realised what he was doing. How long had he been doing that? But he hadn't seemed to dislike it. In fact, he'd continued pressing into him, pressing against him, and while it might have been a bad decision in the long run, especially if he wanted to save any shred of dignity... "Oh," he said simply, returning to the movement, fingers continuing where they'd left off. His touch was firmer, now, more sure, and he was paying more attention to the feeling underneath the pads of his fingers. Merlin, Draco was /thin/. Harry could feel every bump in his spine, every vertebrae as he'd run his fingers along his back. Had he always been like this? He'd always been skinny, but it had definitely been something that had gotten progressively /more/ over the years. Harry had always just assumed it was the product of growth spurts, but... Maybe it was something else? Something that had caused him to end up in the hospital wing more than once, for Pansy to chew him out? "Good," he added, a pleased note to his voice that he didn't mean to slip out, in reference to the fact that Draco had said it felt good. Because it /was/. And it was nice, because /Harry/ was the one causing it.

Stranger: [brbr pmg

Stranger: omg *

You: ((No worries haha))

Stranger: A soft, almost /whiny/ pleased sound escaped Draco's lips as he pressed his back up, arching it up and into Harry's touch along his spine. It felt good, it felt firm, it felt like Harry would be /good/ at pushing him down into the mattress and - Draco shut that thought out quickly, knowing that it would be embarrassing for him to reply. for him to let out the soft, almost /pleasured/ sounds that threatened to emerge from his lips if Harry continued along this vein, if he pressed any lower. Draco could only hopem that right now, Harry was feeling how good he'd gotten, how thin he'd become - it was better than before, better than being thicker, and Draco would take this thinness and this vague sense of weakness any day of the week instead. Draco felt his back arch up, spine curling and curving with each touch that Harry gave to him, and he let out a soft, breathy sound right near his ear, lips moving against the soft underside of Harry's jaw as he did so, his hips falling back down to caress almost delicately against Harry's own.

You: Yep, definitely a bad idea. /Definitely/ a bad idea. Still... Harry found that he didn't want to stop, that he wanted to keep going, to see what would happen if he pushed a little more firmly, if he let his hand trail a little lower, a little higher. The sounds... Merlin, the /sounds/ Draco continued to let out were doing terrible, terrible things to his self-control. He wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel him properly, wanted to-- wanted to-- "H-ha, Draco--" Harry let out the words in a rush of stuttering breath as Draco pressed hips down against his own, the pressure light but /there/, too steady for him to miss. And his mouth, pressing against his jaw, lips moving, breath falling against his skin... It was too much. How the hell could he be expected to even /try/ to keep any sort of pretense of self-control when he was getting so /much/ from him? It was impossible, that was what it was. Absolutely, completely impossible. One hand curved around the back of Draco's neck, not really holding him there so much as leaving a gentle presence against his skin. His other never stopped against his back, fingertips pressing into his lower back, the curve of it, finding every little nuance he could through the jumper that Draco was still wearing.

Stranger: "Harry, I," and Draco let his words trail off there, because there were so many thoughts running through his mind, so many things that he desperately wanted to ask for and knew that he couldn't. He wanted to ask Harry to press a hand down over his bum, to slide that warm hand down his thighs, to push them apart and press around them, to press against him and into him, and Draco /knew/ these things were all too inappropriate to ask. A nonverbal cast of Muffliato went out and Draco pushed out a low, shaky breath that had a hint of sound to it, almost like a moan - a breathy moan, but still a moan - as Harry's hand came up and pressed more firmly against the back of his neck. And with Harry's other hand trailing lower and lower, fingers firm and insistent, Draco let out a stuttering breath and rolled his hips down again, more purposeful this time, a soft whine bubbling from his lips as he wasn't gifted the satisfaction he needed, the touches he craved. "Please," he breathed, his lips brushing purposefully against Harry's skin, now, long fingers curled tightly in the fabric of his shirt, almost begging.

You: Harry's world, his entire viewpoint, had shrunk down to this very moment between the two of them. He was desperate for this, desperate to hear those sounds, to feel Draco against him, and every noise Draco made had him more certain that it was mutual. If it was just in the moment, then Harry would deal with it. That was what he had always done; he'd dealt with the feelings, made peace with them, with the fact that it wasn't something he could chase away or ignore forever, but that it wasn't something he could just follow up on, either. But now... Now, it seemed more than possible that Draco held at least /some/ regard for him. And it stole his breath away, had him trailing the hand down from Draco's neck to join the first as he wrapped his hands around his arse, kneading, first cautiously, then with more certainty as Draco reacted to the touch. He rolled his hips up into Draco's, too, biting his lip, a muffled sound escaping anyways as his glasses were knocked askew on his face by the movement of Draco's head.

Stranger: Draco couldn't help the sound that left his throat as Harry's hands slid down and began to grip at his bum, kneading the flesh that remained on his arse, and Draco was suddenly grateful that he still had some left there. The sound he ended up releasing was this moan, something muffled but desperate, something keening but soft, and he rocked his hips down against Harry's not just once, but twice, his hands sliding up and tangling in his hair. "/Harry/," Draco breathed out, his voice somehow breathy and needing all at once. He'd be embarrassed by this, normally, but the fact that Harry was gripping his arse, was groaning quietly against him, was rolling his hips up in return - Draco felt more secure, knowing that he was wanted just as much in return. A breathy little, "/Ah/," was let loose as Draco rolled his hips down again, feeling the way he was getting hard, and a soft whine escaped his lips before he pressed them to Harry's hot skin, lips suctioning to kiss, to suck, to gently nip, to trail his tongue over and over, sucking tiny marks into the pretty olive skin he had access to. "/Fuck/," he groaned, keening and wanting more as he let his hips rut down as needed to get /some/ friction, accidentally tugging a bit on Harry's dark locks of hair.

You: "/Fuck/," Harry groaned in response, a half-breathed, half-spoken sound, his head tilting back further as Draco's fingers found their way into his hair and /tugged/. He tilted his head into the touch as best as he could; he'd always had a weakness, there, with anything that had to do with his hair. It had been shocking, at first, but he'd grown used to the strong physical reaction as well as he could. It was at times like these he was grateful for it. "Jesus /fucking/ Christ, /Merlin/, /fuck/," he added colourfully, as Draco's hips rutted more purposefully against his own. Any thought of the future had disappeared completely from his head, leaving only a steady chorus of 'wantneedwantneedDracofuckneed' in its place. He was panting, now, fingers scrabbling for purchase against Draco's back, his arse, his back again as he eagerly rutted against him, letting out quiet hisses of pleasure and heavy breaths.

You: ((I gotta eat dinner--my email is ___ and my tumblr is deathishauntedbyhumans if we get d/ced or if you need to go!))

Stranger: The beautiful response he managed to pull from Harry was beyond any of Draco's wildest, darkest fantasies. He let out a low whimper, a low moan, hearing the way that Harry could swear, hearing how deeply Harry was affected just from having his gorgeous, messy black locks tugged at. Draco tugged again, and he managed to breathe out, "Muffliato," just to ensure that no one else could hear what was going on behind the closed curtains of Draco's bed, even if they could see movement. He often warded his bed even when he didn't need to, desiring privacy, and Draco nonverbally cast the usual wards, being skilled enough in them to do so now, and he let out a shaky moan against Harry's skin, sinking his teeth in, sucking on his neck, his fingers curling even tighter in that beautiful hair atop Harry's head, knowing now that he enjoyed it. "Fuck me, /please/," he begged, not even sure if he needed to beg right now, his words hot and breathy in Harry's ear, hips constantly rutting down to meet Harry's own. He was hard in his jeans, insistent, needing Harry to grip his arse and /hit it/, to tell Draco he was good or bad or somewhere in between, but Draco knew that whatever he was told would have him moaning Harry's name no matter what. "/Harry/,

Stranger: **" he added, for emphasis.

Stranger: [okay!! i should still be here, but if i have to go during that time i will email you!! x

You: ((Back!)) Any existing resistance was cast aside the instant Draco began to beg, his breathy voice making Harry's head spin, as if it hadn't been already. He let out another hissed stream of colourful cursing, ending with an overwhelming "/Yes/," as he used one hand to push himself a little more upright, so that Draco was more in his lap instead of sprawled out on top of him. The change in position left him doubly breathless, and it took his brain a second to catch up to his body as he continued to rut against Draco, unable to hold himself back after thinking about this, /wanting/ this for so long. When he managed to think again, just for a moment, he found his hands holding firmly to Draco's waist. He wondered briefly if he was going to leave bruises. He also found himself not particularly caring, too caught up in the moment to let up. Fumbling fingers found the button and zip of Draco's jeans, and he undid them, even though it took a couple of tries, especially since neither of them seemed willing or able to stop moving at this point. "Fuck, /Draco/," he breathed out, needy and wanting and /admiring/ all in one quiet exclamation as he finally got the zip undone, began to work the jeans down past his hips.

Stranger: [omg hi just noticed

You: ((Haha, no worries :D))

Stranger: Draco let out a slightly louder moan as Harry shifted them upright and had Draco sitting in his lap, and Harry seemed to be positively thrusting his hips upwards. a precursor to what Draco desperately wanted to happen, and he clutched tightly to Harry's shoulders in an attempt to hold on and steady himself, even though he couldn't stop moving either, rolling his hips down in circular motions against Harry's, letting out soft gasps of the other boy's name when their clothed hard-ons seemed to brush against one another. "Ha - /fuck/," Draco groaned, his head tilting back slightly. He tried to help Harry with getting his jeans off, but wasn't nearly as successful as he'd hoped, but did manage to help get the jeans and boxers down over his slim hips, his hard cock exposed to the slightly cooler air. With the jumper on, it was going to be harder for Harry to tell what he looked like. and Draco liked it that way. His hips stuttered down, sensitive flesh rutting against denim, and Draco let out a broken, /rough/ moan, leaking precome everywhere. "You - your turn, please, want to - touch," Draco gasped out, sliding his hands down to grasp at Harry's hips and jeans, trying his best to unbutton and unzip them as well.

You: As soon as Draco had tilted his head back, Harry pressed his lips to his pale skin, returning the attention he'd been getting from him. He licked and sucked at his neck, the rough sounds spilling from Draco's mouth only spurring him on further. He was cursing against Draco's skin, too, his lips parting and words falling off of them, swallowed by the skin he continued to press hard, open-mouthed kisses to. He let out a goddamn /moan/ when Draco's hands brushed his still-clothed erection, and dropped his own hands down to his jeans to help. It took a little maneuvering, but he managed to slip his jeans down and off his hips, lifting his entire body --and Draco still in his lap-- off the bed momentarily. Which resulted in more contact between them, especially as Harry fell hard to the bed again, and he reached down, one hand covering both of their erections at once, together, and the other wrapping back around Draco, tugging him flush against his own body with another needy, /greedy/ groan.

Stranger: "Harry! /Harry/, /fuck/, /please/," was all Draco could manage to get out, feeling like his entire body must be vibrating and shaking atop of Harry's with how fucking badly he wanted the other boy, with how badly he wanted Harry to fuck him, to touch him, to do /anything/ that would be pleasing and make Draco feel good. He let out a higher, breathier moan when Harry bodily lifted both of their weights to shimmy his jeans and boxers off, and when Draco ended up straddling him again, he hadn't been expecting to feel Harry's big, calloused hand wrapping around both of their cocks, stroking them, with the other hand grasping at his bum, wanting him close, grabbing at him, /squeezing/ him.. "Fuck, /fuck/, Harry, Ha - /arry/, fuck, /need/ - /need you/," Draco all but pleaded, his hips thrusting forward and into Harry's grip. His own hands were curled in Harry's hair, tugging on it, his body leaning forward and trying to rock between the grip on his arse and the grip on his cock in equal measure, with Draco letting out a frustrated whine when he couldn't get it quite right.

You: "Fuck, /yes/ fuck, so fucking good, /fuck/." Harry's voice was low, a desperate note in the tone as he rocked forward, as he stroked them, as he gripped Draco and held him closer, tighter. "/Draco/," he added, his name becoming a chant as they continued to move, as Harry shifted again, shifted his hand between them, shifted the grip, as his lips found purchase in the hollow of his throat, as his teeth scraped at those sharp, sharp collarbones hiding just under the collar of the jumper he was still wearing. He was greedily taking in every whine, every word, every single use of his own name like a goddamn prayer from those swollen lips. He felt like he couldn't breathe, like this was the only thing that had ever mattered, that would ever matter. The pinnacle of his very existence was this moment, and it was /glorious/. And he was doing his best to memorise this, to memorise the moment, the sounds, the feelings, just in case he never got to experience them again. "/Fuck/, so fucking /good/," he breathed out between pants of Draco's name against his skin, between the fucking thrusts of his hips into his hand, against Draco's cock. "So fucking /good/."

Stranger: Draco felt like there was no room left in his lungs for breath, only for Harry, only to breathe and moan his name, only to suck at his skin and moan in response to having his own skin sucked at. He was so fucking weak for that hand wrapped around him, for the sensation of their cocks rubbing together, precome making them perfectly slippery, and Draco couldn't stop rutting against it, rutting into Harry's hand. He was gripping at his shoulder, was holding onto Harry so tightly he was afraid he might bruise the other, but.. Draco /wanted/ to bruise him, wanted to have Harry so intrinsically a part of himself that he couldn't exist or focus without him, and maybe that was unhealthy, but fuck if Draco cared. "Please, /please/, Harry, f - feels, good, so good, /please/," Draco begged, his words wanton and higher-pitched than normal. "Yours, please, make me - wanna be - yours, /fuck/, I'm - close, Harry - !" Draco exclaimed, his voice breaking halfway through Harry's name as he spilled without warning onto Harry's cock and into his hand, his hips constantly thrusting forward through his orgasm, teeth sunk deeply into the skin of his neck, sucking harder and harder on it.

You: Harry was close, he was so fucking close. Every fucking cry of his name brought him closer to the brink, closer to the edge, but it was that fucking /crack/ of Draco's voice that did it. The way his voice broke on his name as he came, the way he bit down, sucking hard against his skin, the way that Harry could feel every part of himself crackling with electricity and /need/ and something /new/ that he didn't even know how to name-- --and that was how he came, following Draco right off the edge, his head thrown back and mouth open in a cry that left in panting, stuttering breaths because he couldn't even figure a way to summon enough air to force the cry from where it was stuck in his throat. He thrust through his orgasm, feeling Draco slowing, feeling him release the skin he'd been biting at, and then, slowly, slowly he felt himself coming down from the high. He stilled, his hips stopping their stuttering movement, his hand falling from their spent and softening cocks to rest somewhere against their thighs. His glasses had been thrown off somewhere along the way, and he had no idea where they were... nor did he really care. He was still panting, eyes closed, and he leaned back against the head of the bed the way he had the night before, though this time, he still had one arm wrapped firmly around Draco, keeping him close just in case he got any ideas about trying to run away from what had just happened. Harry didn't regret it, not one bit. And he fucking hoped Draco didn't, either, because that had been fucking /brilliant/.

Stranger: [did that send? x]

You: ((The last one did, I think? I just sent one, starts with 'Harry was close'. Last I got from you started with 'Draco felt like there was no room left in his lungs...'))

Stranger: [i never got yours!!

You: ((Gotcha!! Lemme send it again.))

You: ((How 'bout now?))

Stranger: [yes! thank you x

Stranger: When Draco was finally able to let go, he knew that Harry had come, too, from the way that his head was tossed back, from the way that his whole body seemed to be shaking beneath him, and Draco whimpered, feeling how Harry was softening underneath his own cock, and he wanted nothing more than to lean down and clean them up, whether it was with his tongue or his hand, and Draco felt like he might cum again if he cleaned Harry up with his tongue. It was just too good to pass up, if Draco was being honest, but the simple action of rutting against someone else until he came had Draco exhausted, boneless, and slumping against Harry. There was no way he was leaving, now, not even with what they just did, and especially not with the way Harry was holding him so close and so securely. "Thank you," he murmured, unable to care that he was currently pantsless and sticky on top of Harry, only caring that he was warm and /happy/, for once. He kissed tenderly along the harsh marks that he had left on Harry's skin, murmuring nonsense into each one, as if he could heal them without magic, without his wand. "Fuck, you're amazing," Draco breathed, his lips close to Harry's ear by the time he let that one go, his whole body finally relaxing completely against Harry's, praying he wouldn't leave.

You: Floating through the post-coital haze for a few minutes was alright, but coming back down to Earth to hear Draco's whispered words of praise was even better. Harry hummed softly, thumb of the hand curled lightly against Draco's side rubbing at the skin there absently. He was /pleased/, so fucking pleased. He didn't know if he'd ever felt this good, ever, in his whole entire bloody life. It was another minute or so before he could speak, and when he did, his voice was soft and warm, and he addressed both comments in reverse order. "First of all," he murmured, and then hummed as he tucked his chin against the top of Draco's head. "/You/ are incredible. Absolutely brilliant. Second--" And here he paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing, tilting his head down so that his voice was a little muffled by Draco's hair. "You don't have to thank me, you know." He really didn't know what /that/ meant, that Draco felt the need to /thank/ him, and even though he still felt a bit like he was floating through bliss, he also felt like it needed to be addressed. "'t was good. /You're/ good." Because that was important, too. "Bloody /brilliant./" He wasn't making much sense, even in his own head, but he hoped that Draco would manage at least some meaning from the scattered thoughts he was voicing.

Stranger: Draco let out a soft laugh as Harry called him amazing, called him brilliant, called him incredible - these were praises reserved for things and people other than getting off together and Draco, and he knew that, but it was still wonderful to be gifted with such praise. Draco practically preened under it, unable to help himself, because he was just so bloody happy that Harry actually felt that way that he couldn't quite believe it. The second train of thought that Harry seemed to be espousing, however, was the fact that he believed Draco to be good, while Draco knew that was untrue. Maybe he was good at what they just did - Draco had no clue, as that was the first time he'd done anything - but otherwise? Not a chance. "Thank you," he murmured anyway, embarrassed and shy, face flushing again against Harry's skin. He was so fucking tired, was the thing, and Draco told Harry as much with a soft, "'M tired, 'm always - /tired/, after anything.." His voice trailed off, as Draco knew that maybe this would open a conversation that he didn't want to partake in, and he added, "'S good, though, with you. You'll stay?" Draco wihed that had come out as more of a statement than a question, but there it was, in the open, how badly he needed company right now, and maybe always.

You: It wasn't surprising, that Draco would be exhausted, and Harry felt a stab of guilt penetrate the happy little bubble he'd surrounded himself in. This had been a bad idea; just last night, Draco had been hooked up to a /machine/ in the hospital wing, and then here Harry was, taking bloody advantage of the state he was in? It was actually rather disgusting. He was surprised that Draco hadn't realised just how terrible a decision he'd just made. He wished that Draco asking him to stay would make it better, but he just felt like he'd inserted himself somewhere he had no place in being, that he'd done something remarkably stupid and that, if Draco awoke properly and came to his senses, he would probably hate him for letting it happen. /Fuck./ But he couldn't just leave Draco, not when the question had sounded so vulnerable and /he didn't even want to go in the first place/. "Of course," he answered softly, nodding once and shifting, making a bit of a face at the feeling of bodily fluid squishing between them. He squinted, looking for his wand, and reached out when he saw one lying on the nightstand opposite the side of the chocolates. He came into contact with it, and was surprised by the alien feel of it in his hand. Right. His wand was in his robe, which was... on his own bed. This was Draco's, then. Huh. Well, it would do, he supposed. He murmured a cleaning spell, shivering and drawing Draco tighter against him as it swept over the bed, and then set his wand down again carefully. That was better. Maybe, maybe, if Draco didn't hate him after this, he could ask him what was really going on. Maybe he wouldn't have to ask Pansy. Or, maybe he'd hate him and asking Pansy would be a moot point. Ugh. It was too much to think about. /Again/. "There. Clean. Get some sleep, mm?"

Stranger: There was a soft feeling of some magic washed over the pair of them, and Draco found himself oddly relaxing into it, unable to help himself. He let out a soft breath, nestling into the feeling of Harry's warm body underneath his own, genuinely not caring that he hadn't any boxers or jeans on, because Harry didn't either, and who cared? Harry had literally just held both their cocks in one hand, and Draco supposed that he wouldn't mind if they continued to remain without bottoms for a while longer. "Only if you do, please," Draco murmured, nestling against Harry's chest again and pressing a tender, sweet kiss to his neck before immediately falling asleep. It was definitely noon when Draco woke up with another jolt of panic, this one less terrible than the other. He'd had a vague, odd dream that he'd been left alone, but he woke up and clutched onto Harry, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Harry," he murmured, lightly shaking the form of the other boy underneath him. "Hey, wake up, please?" he asked, chewing on his lower lip and trying not to start panicking again. Draco let out a slow breath and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, hoping that might help.

You: Despite the soft request, it took quite a while for Harry to even think about sleeping. Self-doubt churned in his mind, in his stomach, and he found himself feeling vaguely like throwing up for a good half-hour before he started trying to breathe, trying to force himself to calm down. Still, the thought that he'd done something remarkably stupid absolutely refused to go away completely. Eventually, he reached down and pulled the blanket over the both of them, careful not to disturb Draco, who'd fallen asleep quickly, curled up in his lap. "Hmmm?" Harry awoke feeling rather muddled, as though he'd just awoken from a too-long nap. And... well, that was kinda what had happened, he reflected as his heart raced in his chest. That happened, sometimes. If he raised his fingers, he knew they'd be shaking. It always went away within a few minutes. He blinked, though he recognised Draco's voice before he saw the fuzzy outline of him, felt their legs tangled together. "Hey, Draco," he mumbled before clearing his throat, attempting to sound more like a person. "You okay?" Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't have his glasses on, but Draco seemed nervous. His whole body was tense, and... fuck, had he come to his senses to tell Harry to fuck off? /Shit/.

Stranger: A soft and highly relieved sigh left Draco's lips as soon as he realised that Harry was awake, that Harry was /definitely/ still there with him, and that he had even covered them with a blanket, bless him. Draco summoned Harry's glasses and once they flew to his hand, placed them, again, gently on the bridge of Harry's nose, the arms of them tucked safely behind his ears. "Hi," he murmured, relaxing significantly more against Harry's body when he had even asked if Draco was okay. It was so bloody sweet it might make his teeth rot out, but that was a risk that Draco was willing to take. "'M okay. Had a bad dream, is all," he admitted, chewing a bit on his lower lip, tongue darting out to flick against it, to wet it and ensure that he hadn't made his own lip bleed. "Glad you're still here," Draco added, his voice so quiet it was hardly audible, face definitely gone quite pink at the admission, and so he tucked his face in the crook of Harry's neck/

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