Leaving Scars

Summary: Draco Malfoy returns after disappearing without a trace for eighteen months, only to find that Harry has taken drastic measures to try to forget him. Draco/Harry.

Story Warnings: Slash of the NC-17 variety, angst, depression, drama, AU, touches of fluff, violence, some OW/HP. Liberties taken with the Obliviate spell.

Chapter One: "Learn to Live Half Alive"

A smile quirks the corners of Harry's lips as his sleep muddled mind slowly registers the soft touch of warm lips ghosting across the bare skin of his shoulder.

He keeps his eyes closed as said lips move delicately across his tingling skin, over his collar bone, and then slide up his throat to that deliciously sensitive spot just below his ear.

Emerald eyes open sluggishly and his sleepy smile widens as Draco's mischievous grey eyes meet his.

Harry's eyes fall shut again as though of their own free will. He eagerly tilts his head back, encouraging continued exploration from his lover.

Draco chuckles quietly, the sound vibrating against Harry's skin as the blonde's lips tenderly press against the pulse point of his throat.

Harry lets out a hushed moan, his hands coming up to tangle in the baby soft strands of Draco's hair.


The Slytherin smiles and moves his wandering mouth back up to Harry's ear, warm breath tickling and raising gooseflesh in its wake.

"I love you Harry," he exhales quietly, the reverent words seeming to come from the depths of his soul.

Harry drags his eyes open and gazes into Draco's achingly honest expression. He smiles up at him and strokes the backs of his fingers down the side of Draco's smooth pale cheek.

Draco's eyes fall shut for an instant as he leans into the touch.

Harry's eyes flit over his lover's form; the sunlight pouring in from the window illuminating those pale blond strands of shining hair and perfect alabaster skin.

Harry smiles as he replies, "I love you too - always."

Draco smiles in response, grey eyes shining with adoration.

Harry's eyes fall shut once more as Draco slowly moves down his body, pausing to place tender kisses to his chest and hip bones, then inner thighs.

Harry lets out a hushed moan as Draco nuzzles at his groin for moment before swiping his warm tongue up the length of his erection.

Harry's moan is decidedly less hushed as those teasing lips finally envelope him fully. He arches off the bed as warm tongue and mouth taste and lick and suck in conjunction with a firm hand.

Harry tries to keep his body in check, to keep from thrusting wantonly into that warm wet mouth, but he is so close already, orgasm perilously close.

"You're mine Harry," Draco growls huskily, hand still fisting him firmly as he pauses to stare intently up at his lover's face; cheeks flushed and lips parted with arousal.

"Yes..." Harry gasps, thrusting shallowly, hips arching traitorously off of the mattress.

"Come for me Harry."

Harry thrusts a few more times before freezing, body arching off the bed as he cries out in ecstasy...

Harry opens his eyes, blinking in confusion as the muted grey light of early morning greets him.

He looks down to see the dark sheets twisted and damp beneath him, his own hand still wrapped around a spent and sticky cock.

His hand uncurls instantly from around his penis and the aching pain of reality settles in the pit of his stomach, dropping into his gut with the weight of a boulder.

He curls in on himself with a sob that breaks free from between pressed lips.

His bed and his arms are empty. His bleeding heart beats a loud rhythm in his ears as the loneliness returns so fast and strong that he feels sick.


Harry squeezes his eyes shut, desperate to keep out the world, including his concerned boyfriend.

"Harry, love are you alright?" There's a dip in the mattress as he sits next to Harry's huddled body. "Did you have another nightmare?"

Harry unclenches his eyes, hoping that Oliver won't touch him. He doesn't want to be touched.

"Yeah, nightmare," he answers shakily, shifting away slightly. "I'm fine. I'll be out in a sec."

Oliver frowns, wishing that Harry would talk to him instead of always shutting him out. He touches Harry's trembling shoulder briefly before standing, oblivious to the flinch of the body beneath his hand.

Harry exhales in relief, glad that Oliver let it go so easily this time.

He slowly drops his legs over the side of the bed and forces himself to sit up, unconsciously wiping the cooled semen from his hand onto the sheet.

He sits there for a moment, staring unseeing at the dark carpeted floor.

That had been a particularly real dream. Sometimes he knew when he was dreaming, and his dream self would clutch onto Draco, desperate to keep him there, and other times... other times it felt so very real that it was a brutal shock to wake up to this cold reality.

He knew he wasn't being fair to Oliver, the man loved him and cared for him, yet Harry knew he could never truly love him in return, yet if it hadn't been for Oliver, Harry would have never emerged from the pit of despair that he'd dug himself into after Draco's death.

After isolating himself from his friends - and the world in general - for thirteen months, it took Oliver one month of convincing for Harry to go out with him, and then a further three months before he would allow Oliver to stay the night.

Harry sometimes revelled in the close contact of having a warm body to sleep against, but he wasn't ready for anything more than that. They kissed and touched and found their own way of gratifying each other but they never had sex.

Draco had been his first and last and only, and even though he was gone, Harry wasn't ready for anyone else to take his place.

Harry rubs his stinging eyes and stands. He makes his way to the bathroom and leans against the basin, staring at himself in the mirror.

Staring back at him are the ever present dark circles under his eyes, indicative of numerous sleepless nights. His skin is pale and dull, green eyes hollow and haunted.

He shakes his head and turns away.

He quickly splashes some cold water on his face before dressing in yesterday's clothes which were still in a heap on the tiled floor.

He wanders out to the kitchen, still trying to rid himself of the vestiges of that dream, Draco's image and voice still fresh in his mind.

"Feeling better?" Oliver inquires, handing him a hot mug of strong coffee.

"Yeah thanks," Harry accepts the blue mug gratefully, flashing his boyfriend a forced smile.

Oliver follows him to the table and sits down. "Was it... him?" he hedges, staring down at his own steaming mug and avoiding Harry's gaze.

Harry visibly stiffens, his hand clenching around his cup. "Yes," he answers tightly, praying that Oliver will leave it at that.

Oliver was the only one who knew of Harry's two year affair with Draco Malfoy. Harry had finally told him one night after much persuasion - and with the help of a bottle of tequila.

Harry had wanted Oliver to know the reasons behind his depression, why he was cold and closed off at times. It seemed only fair.

It was at times like this though that Harry deeply regretted having bared his soul, to have those painful memories brought up without his consent at any time.

Oliver nods, finally raising his eyes to meet Harry's steady gaze. "Well... I'll be at training all day if you need me," he finally offers quietly.

The tension in Harry's body eases slightly as Oliver abruptly leaves the table, taking his coffee to the sink and dumping it down the drain.

Harry sighs and follows Oliver to the door.

"Wait." He reaches out and grabs Oliver's hand. "I'm sorry."

Oliver turns and smiles tiredly. "Don't worry about it."

Harry feels swamped with guilt in that moment. Oliver Wood was good looking and a popular professional quidditch player, Harry had no idea as to why Oliver wanted to be with him. He deserved so much better. He deserved someone who could love him in return.

"Will you be here tonight?" Harry asks, holding onto the other man's hand.

"Do you want me to?" Oliver replies, eyes searching Harry's face.

Harry nods. "Yes. Please."

Oliver's expression relaxes as he replies. "Alright then, see you after work."

Harry closes his eyes as Oliver leans in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"See you."

Harry collapses back against the wall as soon as Oliver closes the door behind him.

The silence of the small flat instantly surrounds him, suffocating him, thoughts and images of his dead lover running rampant. Draco's voice and whispers of love echoing in his ear, warm breath caressing his skin...

Harry quickly pushes off from the wall and grabs his cloak from the hall coat rack.

The cool autumn air hits his skin like a slap in the face. He strides purposefully along the footpath, hands tucked into his cloak pockets.

He barely registers his direction or the people passing by as he keeps walking, head down.

After thirty minutes of aimless fast-paced walking, he finally stops, panting slightly.

He feels marginally better, his head a little clearer.

He instantly apparates to Diagon Alley. From there he makes his way out into muggle London and to the Ministry of Magic.

He marches into his private Aurors office and kicks the door shut behind him.

His desk is strewn with papers and messy folders, as well as quite a few paper coffee cups, some still half full.

Harry throws his cloak onto the filing cabinet next to the door before collapsing into the creaky wooden chair behind his small desk.

He gazes blearily at the mess in front of him, overwhelmed at the amount of unfinished work staring back at him.

Ignoring everything and, as he has done so many times before, he opens his desk drawer and removes the well-worn copy of the Daily Prophet.

He leans back in his chair and studies the photo for the hundredth time, the huge print headline screaming out at him:

'Malfoy Manor Blown to Pieces: No Survivors.'

There it is in black and white: 'The Malfoy line comes to an end with the deaths of Lucius and Narcissa along with their young son Draco.'

Harry ignores the burning behind his eyes as the crinkled page before him suddenly blurs.

It didn't matter, he had committed the article to memory long ago.

'Last night was a huge leap forward for our cause as one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's most well-known locations was destroyed. Malfoy Manor, one of the wizarding community's most established estates, was attacked in the midst of a suspected Death Eater meeting. The Ministry has confirmed that no one from our side was injured in the attack. The Manor has been completely destroyed, instantly killing all who were inside. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's demise has yet to be confirmed.

This is a huge blow to the Dark Side as many of his most prominent followers have now been put to rest. We can only hope that it will not be long before our world can return to normal. If the Dark Lord is still at large, this reporter only hopes that Harry Potter will not be long in vanquishing him from our midst and ending his reign of terror.'

Harry angrily swats the errant tears from his cheeks and suddenly the moving photo of Malfoy Manor comes into focus once more; the flames licking at the rubble and consuming the property in smoke. Nothing is left of the once magnificent home but the very foundation on which it once proudly stood upon.

Harry screws his eyes shut against the imagined sounds of screaming coming from within. His beautiful lover in agony...

Harry throws the paper across the room with a shout of anger and loss.

He buries his hands in his hair, pulling harshly at the thick dark strands as he closes his eyes.

His dream from last night was affecting him more than usual. He hadn't had such a realistic and achingly peaceful dream in such a long time. Mostly it was just the nightmares of Draco's death and Harry's inability to save him that haunted his scant sleeping hours. This dream had been so real, and Harry had never wanted to wake from that heavenly scene.

Harry lifts his head at the soft knock to his office door. "Yes?" he calls out tiredly.

The dark wood-paneled door opens a crack and a ginger head pokes through.

"Mr Weasley," Harry greets half-heartedly, not in the mood for any sort of company.

Mr Weasley smiles, but his expression is concerned. "You alright there Harry?"

Harry sighs and straightens in his chair, hands dropping back down to his desktop. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I was just heading up to see you and I thought I heard shouting..."

"Yeah, uh... I'm just a little frustrated with one of my cases," Harry replies, eyes quickly scanning his desk for something familiar. Nothing holds any recognition he realizes with a start. He can't quite remember the last time he actually worked on what he was supposed to be doing.

Mr Weasley nods, still smiling warmly. "Why don't you go for a walk? Always helps me clear my head."

Harry brings his gaze back to Mr Weasley's face and he nods distractedly. "Yeah... I think I might do that."

"Good." Ron's father looks satisfied.

Harry forces a smile as he stands and retrieves his cloak from where he'd half-hazardly thrown it earlier.

"I'll see you later," Harry says, brushing past.

Mr Weasley watches him leave, his smile fading. Ron was concerned for his best friend, the whole family was. Harry had changed drastically and nobody knew why. They had thought that once he'd defeated Voldemort the old Harry would have returned. But the brunette was obviously depressed and in pain and no one could talk to him. He cared for Harry as much as he did for his own flesh and blood, and this shell of the boy he once knew not only concerned but frightened him.

Harry exits the Ministry building in a daze. He heads back towards Diagon Alley, knowing that he will not be returning to work that day. There is no point. He can't concentrate and he had no wish to be around other people with their concerned gazes and intrusive questions.

His heart twinges painfully as he longs for his precious invisibility cloak. So many times he wished that it was still in his possession, but sadly it had been reduced to a pile of ash along with Malfoy Manor. He'd lent it to his lover, hoping that it would help keep him safe whilst they were apart...

Harry shakes his head against the onslaught of memories, desperate to keep them at bay.

He makes his way through the pub and into the Diagon Alley. Before he can be recognized, he quickly apparates away to Hogsmeade Village.

Harry exhales, the tightness in his chest abating somewhat as he takes in the familiar surroundings.

Hogsmeade is virtually empty save for a few lowly shoppers huddled in their warmest cloaks against the harsh winds.

Harry slowly wanders down the street, glancing into the familiar shop windows. Memories of his childhood flit through his mind; exciting excursions to the small wizarding village, those treasured weekends when they could explore and shop and forget. Here Harry had felt like a normal teenager, nothing to think about save for what type of lollies to buy or which newest broom to drool over. He dearly missed those simple days.

Harry turns away from the cheery shop fronts and heads towards Hogwarts.

His feet carry him to the front gates without question, before he even knows where it is he wants to go.

Harry pauses, the wind whipping at his hair as he stares up at the turreted towers standing proud against the grey sky.

His heart beats wildly as he pushes through the iron gates and makes his way across the dew-covered lawns, eyes glued to the northern tower. His heart seems to be leading him onwards, his mind blessedly quiet for once as his body obeys.

Harry reaches the entrance doors and stops.

Three years ago he left this home, his haven since he was eleven, and now, at twenty he was back.

Everything looked the same and yet different.

Harry smiles a little as he puts his hand to the heavy wooden door and pushes.

The Entrance Hall is quiet and still, the majority of students in class. Harry feels the warmth and familiarity of it wash over him, even the smells are the same.

Harry's smile fades as the castle brings about inevitable thoughts and memories of Draco.

Why the hell did I want to come back here?

Harry frowns and, contradictory to his thoughts, strides away from the doors deeper into the school.

He walks purposefully through the halls, turning away from the curious gazes of the few straggling students as they pass by.

He is thankful that he does not pass any professors as he continues his trek towards the northern tower.

The small tower was once the owlery until the school felt it required more room for the growing number of students and their faithful pets.

It was just a small tower, abandoned and forgotten. It was also Harry and Draco's secret meeting place over the course of two years.

Harry glances around before heading up the spiralling staircase. The steps are dusty and there are cobwebs hanging from the stone walls, the delicate strands dancing in the breeze he creates as he moves past.

Harry steps into the old owlery, his breath catching in his throat as it all comes back to him.

Images assault him from every corner; there's the window ledge Harry was sitting on when Draco first came up to the tower to escape (unknowingly entering his arch-nemesis' own secret retreat), there is the table they used to eat meals together at, there's the broken remains of the wooden owl perches that they used to practice defence spells on, there's the cupboard full of old spell books that they used to read in each other's company, vainly trying to prepare themselves for a war that they would never be ready for. And there's the corner where they spent hours and hours lying naked in each other's arms; pale limbs and souls hopelessly entangled.

Harry barely notices his broken sob as he steps across the room and kneels on the pile of dusty blankets - their blankets.

He closes his eyes and lifts one of the blankets up to his face. Beyond the layer of dust is the faint smell of him; that refined cologne, or was it the intoxicating shampoo the blond used?

Harry opens his eyes. It hurts to realise that he is starting to forget.

He tosses the blanket back to the floor and moves away to the other side of the shadowed room. He stands at the open window, gulping in huge lungfuls of the fresh cool air.

He should have never come back.

Harry swallows and slowly perches on the ledge, looking out over the expansive school grounds, a thick layer of fog rolling across the grass fields.

He lets his eyes fall shut as he allows himself to remember...

"Harry! Harry, are you here?"

Harry drops his invisibility cloak to the floor and is immediately enveloped by his relieved lover.

Draco clutches him tightly. "I... I thought I was too late. I thought you'd left already."

Harry feels tears prickling at his eyes as he holds onto the tall Slytherin for dear life. "I'd never leave without saying goodbye," he whispers, lips pressed into the side of Draco's warm neck.

Draco's hold only tightens further. "I don't want you to go, stay here where you're safe."

Harry smiles sadly. "I'm not safe anywhere Draco." He pulls back to look into worried grey eyes. "Will you promise to remain here at Hogwarts?"

Draco sighs in reluctant acceptance and slowly draws Harry back in to his body. "We're both just pawns in this bloody war. We should both just tell everyone to go fuck themselves."

Harry chuckles and wraps his arms around Draco's waist, laying his head down on his shoulder with eyes closed.

Draco feels his heart rate begin to slow, his body relaxing as he stands with Harry in his arms. He'd been so frightened, frightened that Harry had left with the chance of them never seeing each other again hanging over their heads.

"How much time do you have?" he asks, throat tight with emotion.

"Until morning," Harry answers, voice muffled by Draco's shirt.

Draco pulls back and looks his lover in the eye. "Will you spend it here? With me?"

Harry smiles. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Draco's eyes light with happiness but his tone is teasing as he replies. "Threat of imminent death really brings out the Hufflepuff in you Potter."

Harry grins but doesn't say anything, he learned to read the Slytherin's true emotions long ago. Instead, he reaches up to pull the smirking blond in for a tender kiss.

Draco's eyes fall closed as he returns the gentle pressure; tasting Harry's sweet mouth and trying to imprint the taste and feel in his mind.

Harry presses closer, parting his lips and stroking Draco's tongue with his own. The sensual dance both familiar and intoxicating.

The kiss turns desperate and heated as hands are buried in hair and hips are pushed forwards, seeking contact.

Harry moans quietly as Draco leaves off his mouth and kisses his sensitive throat, giving both of them a chance to regain their breath.

Draco stops and leads Harry towards their make-shift bed in the far corner, grey eyes staring intently into emerald. The thick pile of blankets are soft under Harry's back as he lies back, gently pulling Draco down after him.

Harry spreads his legs, allowing Draco's body to settle between them. He groans at the delicious pressure on his clothed erection.

Draco kisses him deeply, hips automatically thrusting down into Harry's groin. Harry moans into the kiss, hands slipping beneath Draco's shirt and connecting with soft smooth skin.

Draco sits up and quickly lifts his own shirt up over his head and off, tossing it aside. Harry mimics the motion with his own shirt, and then trousers and shoes and shorts until they are both naked in the moonlit room, eyes never leaving the others through it all.

Draco slowly settles back down between Harry's thighs, the contact of skin on skin comforting and arousing all at once. Their body heat melts together as though they are one.

Harry gazes up at Draco's pale face; half in shadow and half illuminated by the waning moonlight. He swallows back the impending tears and strokes an errant strand of silvery blond hair back behind Draco's ear to distract himself.

Draco bites his lip at the raw emotion written on his lover's face and in those beautiful eyes. It's all there; the pain and threat of loss, fear of the unknown, and of course, undeniable love.

Harry blinks in surprise as a warm tear drips onto his cheek from above. He looks up to see watery grey eyes. He's never seen Draco cry before.

"Why do I feel as though I'll never see you again?" Draco says softly, as though thinking aloud.

Harry swallows and doesn't know what to say to that. There was a good chance that he could die in the next few weeks when the inevitable happened and he faced off with Voldemort. Harry took comfort in the fact that his precious Slytherin was leaving to stay with his family tomorrow. As much as he loathed and despised Lucius he could not begrudge that the man cared a great deal for his son and would never hurt him.

"You think so too, don't you?" Draco asks, misinterpreting Harry's silence.

Harry blinks and brings his focus back to Draco's concerned face. He reaches up and gently wipes a tear from the pale skin.

"Of course we'll see each other again," Harry says firmly, trying to convince himself.

Draco hears the false note in Harry's statement but refrains from comment.

Harry sighs and slides his fingers through Draco's soft hair to the back of his head, pulling him down for a slow sweet kiss.

Draco's eyes flutter shut as he returns the gentle pressure, trying to reassure each other through kisses and soft caressing touches instead of words.

Harry's hands slide down to Draco's lower back and pull him down into him, wanting no space between their bodies. He can feel Draco's hard length pressed into his hip and he thrusts up into his body, needing more friction.

Draco moans in the back of his throat as Harry grinds upwards against his body. He gently bites Harry's neck as he thrusts down against him, rolling their hips together.

Harry moans, eyes shut tight and head tipping back as he writhes in ecstasy. "Want you. In me," he pants.

Draco stills his hips, eyes closed bracingly at Harry's words, the Gryffindor's lust-filled voice almost causing him to come.

Draco opens his eyes and pushes himself off of Harry to collect the well-used jar of lube that is hidden beneath the loose floorboard next to their bed.

Harry shifts impatiently as the blond unscrews the lid and dips a finger into the clear liquid.

Harry writhes in pleasure, his hand fluttering near his own erection lying hard against his abdomen as Draco prepares him.

Draco finally coats himself with the lube, stroking his stiff cock a few times as he watches Harry moan in impatience on the blankets, legs parted and waiting.

"Please..." Harry begs.

Draco places himself at Harry's entrance and slowly pushes inside. Harry bites his lip as he arches into the wonderful sensation of pain and pleasure, of connecting with his lover, of being filled.

Draco holds his breath as he watches his cock disappear within Harry's willing body. He exhales shakily once he is fully sheathed, his eyes moving back up to Harry's face.

Harry swallows thickly, so many emotions choking him and clenching at his heart. "I love you."

It was the only thing to say. The only safe confession for tonight in their secret haven.

Draco leans forward to kiss his full lips. He pulls away and then braces his weight on his hands on either side of Harry's body, beginning to thrust into him; slow and deep.

Harry moans loudly, back arching off the floor as he braces his hands on the wall above his head. He forces himself to keep his eyes open, gazing up at Draco moving above him.

The room is soon full of the sounds of skin on skin, and pants and moans and the creaking of the wooden floor beneath Harry's back.

Draco is thrusting faster and faster as he slowly loses control; unwilling to end their last time together but unable to stop the impending orgasm.

Harry roughly fists himself with one hand, eyes glued to his lover's face and body.

Draco thrusts in deeply one last time and freezes, his cock spurting into his lover as he cries out Harry's name.

Harry can't hold his eyes open any longer as his own orgasm erupts in his groin and warm bursts of white liquid squirt out over his hand and onto his lower abdomen.

Draco watches Harry's orgasm in rapt attention, panting as he comes down from his own release.

Harry milks his prick of every last drop before slowly opening his eyes.

Draco smiles down at him, tired and sated. He gently pulls out and lies on his side next to Harry on the rumpled blankets.

Harry turns on his side to face him. "That was a nice send-off," he comments.

Draco smirks as he quickly flicks his wand over them to clear away the sticky mess on Harry's stomach.


"Hmm?" he replies, voice thick with post-coital haze.

"Please be careful," he says hesitantly. "I... I don't want to lose you."

Draco opens his drooping eyes and meets Harry's earnest gaze. "You won't lose me. Ever."

Harry's heart skips a beat at the blonde's reply.

Draco sits up to tug one of the blankets down over their cooling bodies. He draws Harry in towards him, the Gryffindor's head of dark unruly hair coming to rest on his chest.

Harry shifts closer, slipping one arm across Draco's chest and inhaling that uniquely Malfoy scent mixed with the smell of sex.

"Will we tell people about us when this is all over?"

Draco closes his eyes and smiles as he keeps one arm around Harry's warm body. "Of course, we've nothing to be ashamed of."

Harry smiles as sleep tugs at his increasingly heavy eyelids. "I want you to take my invisibility cloak," he says quietly.

Draco shakes his head. "No, you need it-"

"No, I'll be fine, I'm not the one who's going to be surrounded by the bad guys. My back is covered Malfoy. I want you to take it," Harry insists firmly.

Draco smiles and cracks one eye open, looking at the stubborn Gryffindor in amusement. "Alright Potter, I'll take the bloody thing. Now go to sleep, I don't want you falling asleep on the battle field."

Harry shivers, unconsciously shifting closer to the other boy. "I'm scared," he admits quietly.

Draco tightens his arms around him. "I know, so am I."

Harry pauses. "I love you."

Draco frowns. "This isn't goodbye Potter."

Harry closes his eyes again. Just as he's about to drift off he hears Draco whisper in his ear.

"I love you too."

Harry opens his eyes, the moonlit room of his memory shifting back to the grey light of mid-day.

He doesn't even bother wiping away the tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes are drawn back to the pile of blankets...

Harry abruptly turns on his heel and rushes from the room.

He ignores the even more curious stares as he sprints headlong through the school halls.

He bursts through the entrance doors and out onto the foggy grounds. He keeps running, regardless of the stitch in his side, wanting to run until he collapses from exhaustion. Not wanting to feel or think or remember anymore...

He ducks through the iron gates and keeps running towards Hogsmeade.

He stops along the empty road and rests his hands on his knees, breathing heavily, his chest burning.

After a few moments he apparates away with a loud crack.

"Harry?" Oliver says in surprise, opening the door to his flat to see his boyfriend standing there with flushed cheeks and wild eyes. "I thought we were meeting at your place? Wait, why aren't you at work? What's wrong?"

Harry throws himself at the older boy and holds on for dear life. "I'm sorry, I just didn't want to be alone right now."

Oliver shuts the door and wraps his arms around Harry's trembling body. "Shh... love, it's okay. I'm here."

Harry clenches his eyes closed. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess," he says into Oliver's broad shoulder. "I don't know why you're with me..."

Oliver smiles gently."Because I care about you Harry and I want to help you. Is... this because of your dream last night?"

Harry nods, feeling ashamed and pathetic. "I'm sorry..."

Oliver draws back and tilts Harry's chin up."Never be sorry Harry, you've been through a lot. I know I get frustrated at times, but I'll wait for you Harry, for as long as it takes."

Harry gives a watery smile as he looks into Oliver's warm eyes. "You're too good for me."

"I know," Oliver quips, smoothing Harry's tangled hair back from his forehead.

Harry smiles and wipes his tear-stained cheeks. His expression suddenly turns serious. "I... I think I should see someone."

Oliver's brows rise in surprise. "Like...a therapist or something?"

Harry nods, cheeks flushing slightly. "I just want to move on." He carefully takes Oliver's hand in his.

Oliver smiles and gives his hand a squeeze.

Harry steps forward and hesitantly presses his lips to the other boys. Oliver inhales in surprise. Harry very rarely initiates any sort of intimate contact. He quickly recovers though and eagerly opens his mouth to him.

Harry makes a noise of appreciation in the back of his throat and deepens the kiss. Oliver's hands slide around Harry's back and pull him forward.

The two stand pressed together for a few minutes, gradually slowing the kisses until it's just the gentle touching of lips.

Harry pulls back with a shy smile.

Oliver grins back happily. "Come on, let's go out for dinner."

Harry nods and waits while the older boy collects his cloak and shoes. He ignores the stabbing guilt in his chest as he links hands with Oliver and follows him out the door.