Draco wakes.
He's actually really warm, which is unusual, but not alarming because when he takes his first wakening breath he inhales the sweet scent of his mate. He blinks his eyes open, startling when he's met with bright green irises that twinkle from the morning sun.
"Good morning. You look like shit."
And Draco's eyes squint. "I appreciate the compliment, Potter."
Harry just grins in that boyish way he does, and he runs his eyes down Draco's face. "You really did a number on yourself yesterday."
The Slytherin's eyes widen in recognition and he scrambles to lift his arm, to see it for himself. But he's being pushed back into the mattress and pressed into his bedding.
"Potter," he says warningly.
"I need you to promise me you'll never do anything as brainless as you did yesterday."
"It was not brainless," he says, twisting his body to try and get out. "I had something to prove."
"And you proved it idiotically. Which was not very Slytherin of you."
"Excuse my thoughtless Gryffindor antics, I must be getting them from you."
Harry hums, and a slow smirk splays itself on his red lips. "Good morning, indeed."
"Potter, unhand me. I may have agreed to be near you, that does not mean I will tolerate your ridiculous larks."
"Ridiculous larks," Harry repeats. He stares at Draco for a few seconds, that stupid smirk still on his face. And very slowly, holding Draco's eyes, rolls his hips down. "Gryffindor antics."
"Potter," Draco gasps, his eyes flitting everywhere but Harry.
"You forget I'm a part of you, now. Which means you're part Gryffindor, and I'm part Slytherin. Although, that's not much of a difference from before."
You cunning, evil bastard, Draco thinks, squeezing his eyes shut when Harry's laugh filters through his ears.
"I've prepared the bath for you, my liege," Harry says. His smile is soft and the way he's looking at him makes Draco want to paint him.
Or, maybe punch him.
Harry moves off, pulling his hand to lift him off the bed, and leads him to the conjoined bathroom. The rising vapor from the tub makes it even warmer, which makes Harry's glasses fog up. He folds them away from his face, places them on the counter next to all of Draco's hair products and turns to him.
"Do you want to test the temperature of the water?"
Draco looks at him weird.
"I didn't know if you liked it warmer or cooler," Harry explains, sparing a glance at the large tub.
"I am sure the temperature is perfect," Draco says. "I trust you."
The quickness in Harry's reaction makes him almost flinch, but he doesn't. He stares at Harry, who stares at him, and steps closer.
"I trust you."
Harry's eyes widen in realization, and he slowly inches his hands up to unbutton Draco's sleeping top, his fingers deftly passing over the thin material on his chest. Draco shivers, despite the high temperature in the bathroom.
Draco sleeps without pants and Harry finds this enlightening, humming when he moves to push his trousers down and finds no material underneath. He stands, unashamed, and looks appreciatively as Harry's body is revealed from underneath his Muggle clothes.
The Gryffindor moves closer to the tub, carefully steps in and turns, holding his hands out for Draco to take.
They don't break eye contact, both boys moving slowly, cautiously, as if around a wounded animal in case there's a sign of misdirection. But Draco feels as if he's soaring. He has his mate right in from of him, he's showing off, he thinks. Presenting.
The water temperature is perfect. The size of the tub fills up to his waist, and Draco turns, moving to lay his weight on Harry's chest. Harry leisurely moves back with his arms wound around his mate, to the stone bench inside the tub, and he lays Draco's back over his chest.
"Thank you," Draco says quietly. "For taking care of me."
His arms tighten around the Slytherin and he lays his palm openly on Draco's flat abdomen, pulling him closer. "You don't have to thank me."
"I know."
He watches as Draco lifts a hand and swishes his finger, and there's jars that open and close, with ingredients flying out gracefully and landing in the pool. The first thing to touch the water is a white powder that makes the bath look like milk, and the next is dried petals. The last is a liquid that Harry thinks is soap, but when it lands in the water, he's hit with the smell of lavender.
"Ever the royal," Harry chuckles.
"Anyone who bathes without bath milk powder is a plebeian to me."
He lays his head back on his mate's shoulder, sighing in satisfaction as Harry starts littering little kisses on the junction of his neck and shoulder. Just small touches of lips to skin, where he can feel it; know it's happening.
"I suppose that'd make me a plebeian, too."
"Not anymore."
Draco feels Harry smile against his skin before he's moving his arms, looping his fingers over Draco's and turning both of his arms to face the ceiling. He looks down at his skin, his pale, unmarked skin.
"It really is gone."
"You made it disappear," Harry murmurs in wonder. "You harnessed magic with your bare hands and rid your system of Dark Magic."
"Easy as pie," Draco grins. He turns in Harry's arms.
"Draco, you could have died."
"A small feat compared to what you have done."
"It's not funny," Harry frowns. "I was seriously worried, bond or not."
The Slytherin chances a glance down at Harry's red lips. "Show me."
Harry reels his head back and stares, surprised. "What?"
"Show me. Show me how worried you were."
"You want to have sex right after you almost died? What has gotten into you?"
Draco ignores him, instead moves forward to latch his lips onto the skin on Harry's chest. "I could have died. And I would have done so with many regrets."
The Gryffindor gives him a hard glare. "It's a process, Draco. We can't just have sex. And we need to be in the same mindset, remember? Plus, I have many questions."
"Ask me later," Draco mumbles. He rises to his knees and the feeling of confidence blossoming in his chest all of a sudden increases. "And you need not prepare me."
Harry frowns, his eyes following Draco as he moves around. He opens his mouth to speak when all of a sudden Draco sinks down onto him and he gasps instead, his hands flying up to clutch his mate's sides.
"Mindsets," is the only reasonable thing Harry can think to say when he bottoms out.
"Unnecessary," Draco puffs, his grey eyes locking onto Harry's. "I need this. I want it."
"Do you, now," Harry's eyes glint. A spike of adrenaline shoots up Draco's spine when they flash a glowing red before turning back to their forest green.
The blond sits still, unmoving, with his hands on Harry's shoulders and looking at him with wide eyes. "Do you?"
He could have been seriously injured, his inner form reminds him. And he lost a lot of energy. You are putting this off, Alpha.
"Fuck," Harry mutters, right before reaching for Draco's neck and pulling him down for a kiss. It's hot, in the bathroom, and Draco is starting to think he can't breathe from all the fog, but really, he can't breathe because Harry hasn't moved.
"'Arry," he pants against his mouth, his hands roaming over his shoulders, his neck, his chest, his face.
The Gryffindor hums into his mouth, the vibrations doing lovely things as they pass through Draco's tongue, and he moves his hands back to Draco's sides. He lifts him up, and then brings him back down.
They groan together.
The milky water hits the edges of the tub in waves, to the beat of their rocking, and the anti-fog charm on the mirror breaks, their ragged breaths making the fog rise and rise and rise.
Draco's hands are in Harry's hair and he's pulling on it, his head thrown back while Harry keeps pulling him and pushing him, and he can't think of a better way to have woken up this morning.
*******
"Well, you are thoroughly fucked."
Draco starts, swirling in place with his towel in his hands, patting his hair dry. He grins at his best friend leaning on his door frame. "In more ways than one."
Blaise laughs, shaking his head. "I ran so you could walk, darling."
"Right," Draco drawls. "Because you are so willing to put out with Weasley."
"Hey!"
"Plus, I need it. It is part of my," Draco pretends to ponder, and then he grins wickedly. "Diet."
"You are vulgar," Blaise says, a disgusted grimace on his face.
The blond chuckles. He turns back to his bed and lays the towel out to dry, and proceeds to continue packing his things into his trunk. He hears Blaise move around for a moment, and then he hears the rustle of his bedding.
"So you're okay with this now?"
"With what?"
"Having sex with your arch-enemy, being bonded to your most loathed peer?"
Draco rolls his eyes.
"By the way, who has an arch-enemy at the age of eleven? And when there's a bloody war on the horizon," Blaise shakes his head. "Mock me, but you two were destined from the start."
"I was a pretentious tot and he was the Golden Boy. Of course we were bound to clash."
"Clash."
Blaise ducks when there's a candelabra being hauled at his head. "Hush, you cur."
"Oh, not this again!"
The blond laughs, returning to his belongings to arrange them neatly. It's quiet for a few moments, with just the rustle of Draco moving about. But they can both feel the palpable tension in the room. Blaise clears his throat.
"About yesterday..."
"Fret not, Blaise," Draco interrupts him quickly. "You did nothing wrong. I simply overreacted."
"Overreacted?" Blaise stands as if he's offended. "Draco, you erased the Dark Mark from your skin! That's impossible! Do you know what that means? That means that despite you not being a pureblood, you are capable of pardoning Death Eaters. And if they can find a way to escape Azkaban, then be prepared to be answering your door a lot more often. Because they will come."
"I know," Draco says quietly. "I know. But, at least now, my mother can be held as ransom. And that way, I will know who has her."
"Salazar, help me. Draco, you can't possibly think whoever has your mother will just pop up and confess. They'll get slaughtered. Your mother is not only a political figure, she controls half of the estates in Britain, alone. She's part if the Order, now. And she's a Malfoy. So you aren't the only one that's looking for her."
Draco sighs. Help me, he thinks to himself, praying to a deity.
"Have they even found any suspects?"
At that, the blond freezes. His hands halt and he moves his eyes to look at the lid of his trunk. Ron has not told him? There must be a reason.
"No," Draco says, trying to sound as distraught as possible. "No one yet."
"That's ridiculous. She could be halfway across the world and we wouldn't know. Or she could be..."
"Draco?"
Both boys turn to the door frame where Harry Potter stands in all his glory, a knot of confusion between his brows.
"Yes?"
"Are you alright?"
"Alright," Draco questions. He gives Harry a look and then Harry's voice is flitting through his brain.
You asked for help.
"Oh," he says out loud. He feels stupid for a moment. His eyes spare Blaise a glance and Harry's eyes glint in understanding.
"Are you ready, then?"
"Ready," Blaise asks, puzzled. "Ready for what?"
"We were heading out to Hogsmeade tonight," Harry answers, smiling sweetly.
"But. It's a weekday."
"Yeah, and it's also Holiday," Harry gives him a look that says silly Slytherin.
"Right," Draco pipes up, turning to Blaise. "I forgot to mention it. I have yet to purchase any Christmas gifts."
"Oh. You didn't ask me?"
"Your Hogsmeade visits are suspended."
Blaise crosses his arms and pouts. "Would have been nice to be included."
"I'm sure you'll be the first choice when your punishment is lifted," Harry laughs.
"Alright," Draco stands, taking his cloak and dusting his shirt. "We will return later. Do not forget Weasley will be taking my room."
"How could I? The idiot hasn't stopped talking about it."
Harry laughs. "Come on, Draco. Your friend's gift won't buy itself."