On The Wings of A Dragon

16. Excitement

After saying goodbye to Draco the night before, Harry sat on his couch and replayed the evening over and over again in his mind.  Draco was angry for him.  For what he had been through and endured, and he loved him for that.  He recalled the way his face got contorted in his anger, and then he remembered the way he smiled.  The way he cried, and Harry wanted nothing more than to hold him and tell him it's going to be okay.  

We were caught up in a war that wasn't even our fault.  Not even our faults are our fault!  Being used, abused and groomed wasn't what we wanted, but guess what.  We got through it, and we are going to make it.  We are going to be profound, and we are going to mean something, because we are better than that, he thought.  He had told Draco to hold onto his anger, and that he would help him to at least try and get rid of it, and Draco had jumped at the chance.

But how in the hell was he going to do that.  Draco had said the last time he used magic was when he was going to hurt Harry.  But the savior didn't believe that for a second.  If Draco had really wanted to harm him, he would have.  Well, the old Draco would have, but it seemed even his allegiance had shifted that same night of the battle.  And when Crabbe told him to step aside or kill him, Draco hesitated.

A sudden warmth filled Harry, and with a whoop of excitement, he knew exactly how he was going to help Draco get rid of his hate and his anger.  He could still be the snobbish prat that he always had been, no problem there, but he couldn't afford to carry that type of burden, and most definitely not on his sleeve.  

Pfft.  Harry was one to talk.  He carried ALL of his emotions on his sleeve, and everyone knew it.  

Running his hand through his messy hair, he knew that he enjoyed spending time with Draco, and with a sudden jolt, he came to the realization that perhaps he liked the man.  

No!  

He was gorgeous, yes.  He looked great in anything that he wore, yes.  Even the way he held himself while eating his food and drinking wine.  It was exquisite.  But Harry also knew that he had to tread carefully.  He was not going to help Draco by making a fool of himself.  He would keep this strictly professional.  

No.  That's the wrong word.  He wanted to be his friend, because Merlin knows, Draco didn't have any of those any more.  And then there was the fact that Draco had made him to be a fool when he had gone to the Manor.  Time and time again, so perhaps he was only doing this to either pass the time, or humor himself.  He hoped to god he was wrong.  The very first thing that he was going to ask Draco was if he still felt comfortable doing magic.

Draco had gone home with a lighter heart.  Even if not for himself, but for Harry.  How the hell had he managed to stay sane and humble after everything that had been thrown at him was a miracle.  And those goddamn muggles!  They should be found and receive the same treatment.  How the hell had they gotten away with it.  Starvation, abuse, neglect, and raising Harry in a cupboard.  Just the thought of that made his eyes fill with tears again.  He scoffed at himself, crying over Harry Potter.  What on earth was the world coming to?

But then Draco remembered the way that Harry had held him, and told him to let it go.  It's in the past and it doesn't matter anymore.  A warm feeling was cursing through his veins, and going right up to his neck and cheeks.  The embrace was not only welcome, it had felt like coming home.  No one had ever hugged him that way.  Fiercely, and without demanding something in return.  Enjoying the heat that flooded him, he made his way towards his bathroom and started to undress.

Stepping into the shower, he closed his eyes and saw a flash of Harry in his mind.  Offering to help him get rid of his anger.  To help him channel it, and then perhaps they could get on with their lives in a better, more promising way.  

"If you want", Harry had said.  

And he did want it, he knew he did.  He had wanted it since he could remember.  Had wanted Harry.  But he could not let the golden boy find out.  As soon as he was ready, he would say thank you for your friendship and be on his merry way.  He wasn't about to tell Harry Potter that he had feelings for him.  Merlin no!  Could you imagine the man's reaction.

The hot water hitting his back, rinsing off the soap on his body felt like tiny wishes being spoken and granted.  There were so many things he wished for.  Harry as a friend, check.  Harry in his broken pathetic messed up life, check.  Harry teaching him some new magic, check.  Harry, in all his glory, kissing him and holding him - no check.  

Groaning, he stood with his hands against the wall, and just enjoyed the cascade of heat falling over and around him.

The warmth of Harry Potter in his life was going to bring about new stories.  New memories, and if he were being honest with himself, he was going to let his friends back inside, no matter their reactions.  He at least wanted to apologize for what they had been through, he thought he owed them that.  

Harry had said he would never have gotten as far as he did, if he didn't have friends in his corner.  Praising and acclaiming them, when it had been him who had saved everyone.

Stupid Gryffindor.