In the Hands of Outlaws

Chapter Seven

"Alright blondie, we're gonna take a bath and head out."

"Mm," Draco moaned sleepily, pulling a pillow over his head. The bastard could wait five minutes. Maybe twenty. Or an hour.

"Up and at'em," Harry sang, tugging the pillow out of his grasp. "You do want a hot bath, don't you?"

"Hot bath?" Draco mumbled through the pillow, raising his head up a fraction, peering up at Harry through squinted gray eyes.

"Yes, hot bath. C'mon sleepyhead, you're slower than a southerner when it dips below sixty." Draco whined, forcing himself to sit up, dragging his hands against his face while Harry sighed. "Do you want your water hot, or just moderately luke-warm?"

"Hot," Draco mumbled, trying to stand but hissing in pain. Harry winced.

"Here, will you let me carry you?"

Draco huffed out a breath, trying to stabilize the pain. "Yes, fine, whatever."

"Hot water will make it feel better," Harry promised, carefully picking up the blond- much gentler than the time in the river, Draco noted absently. He was a bit too busy trying to not let his body curl up on his wound to pay much attention to it.

Harry left their room, shutting the door behind him before heading towards a room on the end, which Draco realized to be the bath room. A single tub, made of some sort of porcelain, resided in the center of the room, filled with steaming hot water. His mouth practically watered at the sight.

"I thought you'd like that," Harry chuckled, seeing Draco's reaction, carefully sitting the blond on the edge of the tub. "I'll help with your shirt and trousers. I can't leave you in here alone because you might manage to drown yourself, so I'll just be sitting over on the chair in the corner, facing the wall."

Draco snorted. "Time out, Potter. That's called a time out."

"It's called being respectful. If it were Ron or 'nyone else I would have bathed with them- god knows it's been a while since I got a hot bath. Probably years, honestly."

Draco frowned. "Why don't you take one, then?"

"A bath takes a long time to prepare- we gotta boil it, here, unlike over at your fancy estates."

Draco's frown deepened but he let Harry gently coax his shirt off, drawing it off pale, sunken shoulders. Harry frowned, tracing the ridge of his collar bone with his thumb. "Did they feed you? The Morvolos?"

"They gave me a can of peaches," Draco said with a thoughtful look. Harry scowled.

"You should have said you were hungry," he mumbled, reaching for the flies of Draco's denims before freezing, clearing his throat and drawing them back. "I'll let you do that."

Draco flushed slightly, popping open the buttons and zip, slowly and carefully pushing the trousers down over his hips, where he let Harry tug them down his thighs and calves. The entire experience felt almost surreal- Harry's knuckles occasionally brushing his skin and making shocks of electricity go through his body.

With a startling thought, he realized that Harry was treating him better than anyone ever had. Even his mother wasn't one for affection- the most she did was give him baths when he was five. His father regarded him with sneers, the slaves only treated him well out of fear- Oh.

Harry had a reason to treat him well too. He wasn't just doing it out of the goodness of his heart- he himself had said Draco was valuable, somehow.

Draco's hands tightened into fists, resting against the tub sides.

"You alright, doll?" Harry asked, clearly noticing Draco's sudden mood change. "Don't tense up so much, you'll hurt your wound."

"Don't act like you care," Draco snapped, glaring at Harry, who blinked, actually looking taken aback.

"What are you talking about? Of course I do."

"Yeah, maybe because I'm worth something of monetary value to you."

Harry's eyes darkened. "You think that's what this is about? You're even more dense than you act, Malfoy."

"Why else would you keep me around?" Draco snapped, bringing a foot up to Harry's chest and shoving, over balancing the outlaw and sending him down onto his back, hard. The bastard had the audacity to look hurt, but he quickly changed it to anger.

"Because if I let you go you'd be dead. This is about keeping you alive, you fucking asshole." Harry growled.

"Because I have blackmail value! Because my father, the third richest man in New England, would pay up ransom money!" Draco shouted, snarling. "Go! Leave me alone!"

"No," Harry said firmly, grabbing Draco's wrists and hauling his arms behind his back, causing Draco to cry out slightly. "You listen here, you fucking brat. If I wanted you for ransom, I'd tie you the fuck up against a tree, feed you raw fish innards and make sure you're so sore you can't fucking move." Harry's face was right next to his, his voice a low growl in Dracos ear. "I would have sent out a letter to your father already. I wouldn't have bought you new clothes, taken care of your injury- because once you would be back with your father, I would have already gotten my money, and if you die in his hands, it's not my fucking problem. Every bruise, broken bone, cut, scrape, would be a warning to not fuck around with my men, and I wouldn't give a single shit about you. Is that what I'm doing? Huh? Am I doing any of that to you? No. So shut the fuck up and get in the bath, which I got up early and paid twenty buck for just for you, you ungrateful brat."

Releasing Draco's arms, Harry and stormed out of the room, slamming the door, leaving Draco's entire body shaking. He took a few deep breaths, sitting there for a good five minutes, closing his eyes before forcing himself the stand, stumbling slightly and hissing in pain.

The door was pushed open. "Why the hell are you walking? You can't right now, especially not with-"

"You were waiting," Draco said numbly, staring at the man. "At the door."

Harry scowled. "Of course I was. Just because I'm pissed doesn't mean I'm gonna fuckin leave you with a bullet wound."

Draco swallowed, bracing a single hand against the wall. "I'm sorry," the blond spoke cautiously and slowly. "I got defensive and took it out on you. Can you please help me?"

Gentle hands with rough callouses were at his shoulders and hips in a mere few seconds, helping him get back over to the tub and carefully setting him down. "Are you gonna bathe with these on?" Harry asked quietly, a hand ghosting over the waistband of Draco's pants.

Draco shook his head weakly, blinking at Harry, who, against the will of a small part of him, turned away. "Take them off and get in the bath. I'll help if you say you need it, otherwise I'm not looking."

Draco carefully pulled them down his hips, hissing in pain. Harry's back tensed but he didn't turn. Part of him wanted to say he needed help just so that Harry would catch a glimpse of him, but he knew that was just the raunchy, gay, young adult part of him so he shoved it away and lowered himself into the water- which was still steaming slightly. He let out a soft sigh of relief.

Every inch of his body that disappeared into steamy water seemed like a chain removed from his shoulders; stress and tension melting off his ivory skin like snow. Harry was right- he needed this.

"Fuck," Draco spoke softly, taking another deep breath. "Thank you."

Harry doesn't reply. He just says, "I'll be back," and heads out of the room.

Draco sighed miserably. What in hell was he ever going to do?