The Secret's In The Telling by Sakuri

chapter 24

But good God was it hard to suppress the wave of envy that rose up in him every time he saw them together. Not so long ago, he'd had what they had now, and oh how he wanted it back…

But he wasn't stupid, and he'd stopped clinging to false hope months ago. His mate was gone, and though Remus missed him – would always miss him, to some extent – he had let him go.

Perhaps that was a good thing, he wasn't sure. Minerva said it was a good thing, when they'd last spoken. The only thing that Remus knew for sure was that, without Sirius, he was left with Severus – and that didn't seem to be working out very well, right now…

xxx

Once again, the night flew by in a haze of excitement and competition, ending finally when the werewolves and Harry returned to the little cottage in exhaustion, flopping down onto their respective, makeshift beds.

It was a dark morning, even when light finally came, sinking triumphant claws into the grey, wet skies. It rained moodily, chilling the early morning atmosphere. Yet despite the outside cold, Draco was warm.

He smiled dreamily, trying not to open his eyes and break the trance of half-sleep he was caught in. The wolf had returned to the back of his mind, sated and safe. For the moment, anyway. As always, he felt like a massive pressure he hadn't quite been aware of had suddenly released. Relishing the comfort, he stretched like a cat, back arching and fingers curling in the sheet thrown over him.

In the same manner Harry had been startled into waking a month ago, Draco abruptly became aware of the very close presence of another person.

The pleasant warmth suddenly became overbearing as he realised, with slow dawning, that he was entangled with another body. And, worse, even without opening his eyes, he knew who it was. Potter's distinctive scent – the oddly mingled smell of boy and dog and rain, not unpleasant – filled his nose, making the wolf utter a tiny, happy growl of recognition before resuming its doze, sinking even further into relaxation. Draco, on the other hand, felt as if every muscle in him had just gone tense.

Potter. He was lying with Potter. Lying on him! What the hell…?

The Gryffindor snuffled in his sleep and shifted. The arm under Draco's head and around his shoulders tightened slightly, forcing him to restrain a sound suspiciously close to a whimper. Every tiny part of his bare skin that came into contact with the other boy was on fire. Intimate contact. Intimate contact everywhere. He could feel the denim of Potter's jeans rough on his leg, which had been thrown over the other's hips. Beneath his hand, the Gryffindor's chest rose and fell steadily and a slow heartbeat hummed.

What was this?

Just like before, in the hall near the foyer under the Invisibility Cloak, the close contact unnerved him deeply. He braced himself, ready to push away and untangle himself as fast as possible, even if it meant losing his dignity with Potter waking up and seeing this god-awful mess – but abruptly, the wolf in him growled and lurched into life again, protesting any movement he might have in mind. It wanted to stay put, damn it, and was apparently trying its best to make Draco want the same thing.

And Draco might have put up more of a fight, had he not at that moment noticed the sliver of green beneath a splay of lashes, watching him. Potter was indeed already awake and witness to his humiliation. The Slytherin froze up, unable, even, to extract himself from their compromising position.

"P-Potter…" He hated the weakness of his stammer, but even Malfoys couldn't be expected to remain unaffected while lying naked with one's rival.

And there was a thought he'd never get out of his head…