Chapter re-vamped 2/3/2015
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Disclaimer: None of the characters or the world created by JK Rowling belongs to me nor do I make any money off this story.
Hermione groaned, rolling over. Scrunching her nose she curled her fingers in something silky and familiar. Cracking her eyes open her gaze fell to the heavy, horribly patterned invisibility cloak that was draped over her. Gingerly Hermione sat up and looked around the empty infirmary, eyeing the flowers and cards that decorated her bedside table. Through the windows she could see the sky beginning to pink, the sun peeking up over the forest. Pushing aside the blankets she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached out for balance.
Slipping cold toes into the fluffy red slippers on the floor she sighed at the warming charm that covered them. Wrapping the invisibility cloak around her for warmth she began shuffling toward the bathroom at the end of the wing, careful not to rush herself even if it did feel like her bladder was going to explode. Hermione avoided her reflection in the mirror as she sat down to relieve herself, sure she did not want to see what she looked like at the moment. She felt like crap so according to logic she had to look worse.
After washing and drying her hands she reached for the door when a commotion out in the hospital wing caught her ears. Pushing open the door she stepped out and watched as Harry and Ron worked themselves into a panic over her empty bed. Opening her mouth to alleviate their fears she held in a gasp when a vice like grip latched onto her upper arm and pulled her in close.
"Ms. Granger, are you trying to drive us all to an early grave?"
Hermione relaxed and leant into the warmth that enveloped her from all sides. A taunt arm wrapped around her waist as a long fingered hand reached her neck, caressing the silky smooth skin there.
Hot breath assaulted her skin when a sardonic chuckle rumbled through the man's chest and into her own. It felt amazing to be in his arms again, even if her experience in this area was fleeting. As if possessed Hermione dazedly reached up to the hand around her neck and brought the warm appendage to her lips. Snaking her tongue out; she licked the pad of Severus's pointer finger, shivering as he hissed.
Before she could get any braver Severus swung her around, planting her face in his robes.
"You caused quite a commotion. You had everyone worried, foolish Gryffindor."
Gripping his robes she grimaced.
"Did I worry you?"
Severus hesitated, unsure in his response.
"Yes, you did. I am not as detached as I wish to be, nor appear."
Pushing away from the Potions Master Hermione looked up at his face, eyes searching his features.
"I'm sorry for that."
Severus nodded and put a hand at her back, leading her out of Madame Pomfrey's office and into the main part of the wing.
Harry was the first to spot her and came running before skidding to a stop at the sight of Severus. Ron was behind him moments later, but took no notice of the Potions Master before pulling her into a hug.
Harry stared at Severus with guarded eyes and brows furrowed. Severus stared back unblinkingly, daring the young man to say something. Ron led Hermione back to her bed where Madmae Pomprey waited to perform a checkup.
"How long have I been unconscious?"
"Three very long days Ms. Granger. I hope you will not do it again."
Hermione smiled sheepishly.
Madame Pomprey clucked her tongue before pulling out her wand and mumbling a few incantations. Just like all the appointments before, blue colored images appeared from thin air, giving heart rate, blood pressure and other vital signs of both mother and child.
"You appear to be out of the woods however I will not chance this happening again. I'm going to prescribe you a magical enhancer to supplement your magical stores. Severus has already bottled the first batch. We'll start at two vials in the morning and another around noon time. You're likely to feel antsy and put a bit more power than necessary behind your spells without intending to; but in time you will adjust to the dosage strength."
Hermione nodded and took the clothes Harry offered her before heading back to the bathroom to change.
Seconds after the door closed with a click, he rounded on Severus once more.
"What are you doing here Professor?"
Severus raised an eyebrow at his impertinence.
"I believe you already know the answer to that."
Harry grunted and clenched his fists. Ron placed a hand on his shoulder and gripped it tight in reassurance. Harry let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding and tried to relax. Glancing back at the Potions Master he was plain.
"So now that there's been a risk to the child you're ready to play family man?"
Severus would never admit to liking the Potter boy but he would grudgingly acknowledge his devotion to friends and loved ones, momentarily anyway.
"I'm not a family man Potter, and I have no urge to play as it were. Ms. Granger and I have an understanding and when she needs help she can come to me. For anything."
Harry clenched his teeth. Sure Snape had done some noble things during the war, he couldn't fault him there. But ever since the discovery of Hermione's pregnancy, Harry had been unable to squash the anger that simmered in his gut.
Hermione's arrival from the bathroom made him hold his tongue. Upsetting her was the last thing he wanted to do and at this moment he was sure it wouldn't of been hard. Shooting a look at Snape he turned and took one of her arms while Ron got the other.
"Let's get you back to the common room yeah? People have been worried you know."
Hermione didn't resist as they led her away, all the while looking back over her shoulder at Severus. When her eyes locked with his he gave her a smirk that nearly stole her breath. What was she getting into?
The night of December twenty-first found Harry laying on his bed and staring at his battered trunk, nerves on edge. Earlier in the evening he had helped Hermione pack her things as Ron regaled the events from that evening's final Quidditch practice before Christmas break. The joy in the redhead's voice over the sport had made Harry's heart ache just a bit. He loved Quidditch and there were days he watched the Gryffindor team practice with envy but his apprenticeship was more important to him and required his full attention. He was determined to be the best DADA professor he could be, both for himself and Teddy. Providing for his godson was important to Harry, determination to give Teddy everything Sirius had been unable to give himself. Andromeda had already told him that once he was settled, she would be giving him custody of Teddy. Andromeda was getting up in age and did not have the energy to care for a baby, let alone a toddler.
Harry's musings stopped suddenly when his hand came in contact with a silky green and silver scarf that had been buried under all his blankets. Fingering the material his eyes fell closed. Rolling over onto his side he curled into a ball, breathing in the heady scent that still lingered on the cloth.
Harry watched the rise and fall of Draco's chest, a thick red coverlet surrounding his thin frame. Pale skin nearly glowed in the moonlight that cut through the darkness of the room. Running a hand through his dark locks Harry cursed, wondering why the hell he had brought the other man back to Gryffindor tower, let alone his room. He could just as easily taken him to Professor McGonagall's office or left him with the house elves. Sighing he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, continuing to stare at the other boy's sleeping form.
Harry was no longer surprised by his lack of anger or hatred but when he first noticed it, Merlin had he been. Two years ago he would have left the Slytherin to freeze or even woke him with a hex. Harry was man enough to admit that his anger had been out of control and would have killed him if he hadn't gotten control of it. Regret boiled in his gut when he saw the edge of the pink scar that slashed across Draco's chest. He had been horrified when the curse sliced Draco open, blood mixing with water and spreading across Myrtle's bathroom floor. In that moment he knew Hermione had been right, per usual. For all the good that had come of Snape's potions book there had been a high price for his self-righteousness.
Draco had been a scared boy, trying to live up to his father's expectations, earn his love and protect the life of his mother. Draco had never possessed an easy choice. Harry knew that now but many nights he lay awake wishing he had known then instead.
Draco frowned in his sleep and rolled sluggishly under the thick blankets. Standing Harry walked over to the bed's edge, tracking every twitch and movement. Draco's platinum locks were spread across Harry's pillow like a halo. It had grown out to his shoulders but unlike his father's stiff tresses, his was malleable and wavy. Without intending to Harry reached out and brushed some hair away from the blonde's eyes, exposing sharp cheek bones and full pink lips.
It alarmed Harry how exhausted and waif-like Draco appeared. He barely ate while in the great hall and looked as though he hadn't slept in days. During class Harry had seen him clutch his forearm where The Dark Mark resided, fingers clamped so tight the knuckles turned red and white. Harry wasn't afraid to admit he had been watching the Slytherin, mostly out of curiosity.
He wasn't all too sure how it began but it had become habit quickly enough. A light musky scent caught his nose and he leaned down, inhaling deeply. Merlin that smelled good. Harry jerked upright suddenly, realizing what he had just done. First he brought the Slytherin into his room and inadvertently his bed but now he was sniffing him. Shaking himself Harry went back to his chair and settled in. Obviously by his strange behavior, sharing his bed might not be the best option. Kicking off his sneakers he flicked his wand absently, the armchair transfiguring into a daybed beneath him. Pulling his invisibility cloak around him, he let his eyes fall shut.
Draco rolled over groggily, burying his face into the pillow and shielding his eyes from the sun. He froze mid roll, body tense. Sunlight wasn't a problem in the dungeons, so where was he? Cracking open his eyes he saw the red and gold blankets that enveloped him and his stomach sunk. Rolling back over he scanned the room and discreetly reached for his wand. His fingers found bare skin, his wand and sheath gone. Draco's eyes simultaneously widened and narrowed, his confusion apparent. Harry bloody Potter lay not seven feet from him, curled under that blasted invisibility cloak of his.
Draco slowly lifted himself into a sitting position and pushed aside the blankets. Bare feet touched the cool stone floor and he shivered. His shoes rested at the end of the bed, just under the frame. Silently he padded toward Harry, stopping just short of the lounger. Draco stared at Harry, willing himself to do something but found he couldn't move or look away. Why was he here, in Potter's room?
Last Draco remembered, he had been sitting in the pitch's bleachers, watching the stars and admittedly feeling sorry for himself. Lifting his left pant leg he checked the tracking spell on his ankle, finding it green and cool to the touch. Dropping the material he glanced around, still looking for his wand.
Harry groaned and shifted, tossing aside the cloak that covered him. His shirt rode up his chest and his sweat pants hung low on his hips, exposing a large expanse of his stomach. Abdominal muscles contracted as Harry arched his back and adjusted himself once more. Draco watched his muscles contort and ripple in fascination, unable to look away. Draco licked his lips and raked his eyes over the room, desperate to find his wand and get out of there. Running a hand through his hair he turned back to find intense green eyes watching his every move. Harry's voice was husky from sleep.
"Leaving so soon?"
Draco shifted his feet and his Dark Mark began to tingle. Harry sat up slowly, placing his feet on the floor. Reaching behind him he grabbed the sheathed wand that he had tucked away the night before. Holding out the Unicorn infused Hawthorne instrument he gave a wry smile.
"Don't forget this."
Draco reached out and took the wand, fingertips brushing Harry's wrist. He jerked at the static shock that passed between them. Slipping the holster onto his marked arm he avoided Harry's gaze.
"Why am I here?"
Harry cleared his throat.
"I found you asleep and shivering out at the pitch. I could of left you to freeze if you would have preferred that."
Draco was silent for a moment.
"No thanks Potter. I've grown to like being alive."
Draco stopped, turning to him. "What?"
Harry smiled lazily.
"Harry, not Potter. I think we've gotten beyond that yeah?"
Draco shrugged. Grabbing his shoes he slipped them on. He didn't bother buttoning his shirt up or tucking it in. Harry stood, coming eye to eye with the silent blonde.
"You should really eat more. You're even skinnier than I ever was."
Draco shrugged once more, not bothering to meet Harry's gaze.
"Does the Dark Mark pain you?"
Draco froze, his stomach churning. He hated that damn mark. It was the worst decision he had ever gone along with. Turning he headed for the door, ignoring Harry's abrupt question. In his haste he missed the discarded Invisibility cloak on the floor and found himself falling toward the floor fast. Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around him from the front and he found his face tucked into Harry's chest.
Time stopped as they stood there, Harry holding Draco and Draco fighting himself to stay still. Draco was gay, he knew it and had known it since the first time Pansy tried to accost him in the Slytherin Common room, however he highly doubted Harry bloody Potter was the least inclined toward blokes.
When Harry's arms tightened slightly and pulled him closer, Draco began to rethink that rationalization. A throaty chuckle is his ear had every hair standing on end.
"I think you need to get back to bed."
Draco jerked from Harry's arms, eyeing the Gryffindor with suspicion. Harry just smiled, hands held wide.
"Did I say something wrong?"
Draco didn't linger; he fled Gryffindor tower his thoughts in shambles.
Harry watched him leave, just as confused by his own suggestive actions.