𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

Chapter 8

And he was alive.

Hermione's hand was on his forehead, checking his temperature, when he rounded on her and hissed, "What have you done?"

Hermione's eyes took on a hellish glint and she near screeched, "What have I done? You nearly killed yourself! I wasn't about to let you be a martyr."

Harry gaped at her, "A martyr? I wanted it to be over, Hermione!"

Hermione stared at him distastefully and crossed her arms over her chest, "So you could run from this just like you ran from Draco?"

"I didn't run from Draco!" Harry screamed, and forced out the words, "He. Left. Me. In case you've forgotten!" Something Hermione herself had said would never happen.

Hermione didn't look convinced and said harshly, "Oh please, you held him at arm's reach! You never let him get close enough to leave you, he didn't even know you."

Harry turned his head away and whimpered, "I don't want to live with this."

Hermione was unrelenting and near sneered, "What, with everything you've done? Well, you don't get to take the easy way out. How do you think Draco would have taken it if you had died?"

Harry's anger at Hermione bubbled and frothed and he tried to smother it as he reminded himself that he had wanted this. He had purposefully gotten Wood drunk, convinced him that he was as close to Draco that Wood would ever get, and he had waited to get caught. Granted, he hadn't expected Draco to walk in, he was hoping Wood would let it leak out since he had always wanted him and Draco apart, but it was what he had wanted in the long run and that's what mattered.

Draco deserved better and after the blonde's outburst, he had realized it. He had also realized that Draco would never get it unless Harry pushed him away. Draco was content to be kept under Harry's thumb provided he continued to treat him like shit, unfortunately, Harry didn't want to hurt Draco anymore. If Harry had never cared, if he had continued on like the bastard he was, he could have Draco, here, with him, right now, of course, now that he wanted that, now that he had shown concern, he was without the one thing he wanted.

The entire thing was fucked up.

But for once, he hadn't done the selfish thing. He had done what was best for Draco, and nothing had ever hurt more. There was a void where Draco was meant to be and it left a constant throbbingfeeling in his chest.

~*~

Harry threw his keys down on the table and cupped the blonde's cheeks as he forced his tongue into the hot mouth. He ignored the rising feeling of discontent and attempted to push it down where it belonged. He wanted this. He needed this.

He pushed the blonde back toward the bedroom and fell on top of the clothed body on his bed. He kissed hungrily, his hands skimming under the blonde's t-shirt for pale skin. He pulled back to listen to the husky panting. Blue eyes opened to gaze at him lustfully and Harry felt a resulting wrench in his stomach as it churned itself into knots, but he forced himself to be calm.

He grabbed a vial of lotion from the nightstand and tried to force his flagging erection to harden fully. He closed his eyes, his mind conjuring glorious images as he said quickly and roughly, "Call me 'babe.'"

He had always hated the moniker when Draco had used it but he wanted nothing more than to hear those sweet lips release it. A voice emerged deep from the man's diaphragm, too bottomless and raspy to be allowed, "Babe."

Harry felt like he was going to be violently ill and crawled off the other man as he slunk to the bathroom. He retched vehemently, his face pale and sweaty, before returning to the room.He took the four hundred off the dresser and shoved it into the blonde's hand, "Go."

The blonde perked an eyebrow, "Hun, you know you paid for sex, right? What we just did, well, hun, that ain't sex."

Oh, god. He had an accent? Disgusting. "Get out of my house. You're welcome to leave the money here if that's what you'd like, but I'm not fucking you."

The man seemed confused but pulled his shirt back on to hide his overly defined muscles and slid his fingers through his not blonde enough hair. He pocketed the money, stood gracefully, gave Harry one last bemused glance, and left the apartment.

Harry stood staring at the bed. He couldn't help but feel as if he were betraying Draco and this time there was no glorified excuse, there was just him, fucking some guy that wasn't Draco, for no other reason than he was horny. He wondered if Draco was having trouble fucking other guys and then got sick a second time picturing it.

Harry turned on the light across the hall and slid down the wall of Draco's room. He didn't want his scent to usurp the one Draco had left on his bed, so he refused to sleep there again.

He vaguely wondered what would have happened if he hadn't survived Blaise's attack. Was Hermione right, would his death only have upset Draco further or would it have given him a sense of relief as Harry suspected. He felt tears stinging his eyes and chided himself for acting like a child.

He felt his stomach flip and crawled to the blonde's bathroom just in case. He was sitting with his head next to the porcelain basin when he saw something glinting on the tiled floor under the lamplight. It was perfect.

And Harry knew exactly what he had to do.