The Re-Sorting [Drarry, TW SMUT]

Return.

1st POV - Harry

The final explosion of magic still rang in my ears as I burst out of Malfoy Manor, adrenaline spurring my every step. Voldemort was dead, but the cost of victory weighed heavily on my soul. Every heartbeat hammered in my chest was a reminder of the chaos I’d left behind—and the promise I had made to Draco. 

I sprinted across the manicured grounds under the shroud of darkness, each footfall echoing my desperation. The cool night air was filled with the distant sounds of our Order celebrating and mourning simultaneously. But I couldn’t pause to absorb it all; my mind was singularly focused on reaching the grove, our temporary sanctuary where I had hidden Draco before rejoining the battle. 

The path to the grove was barely visible in the sparse moonlight, the trees standing like silent sentinels. Every rustle of leaves and distant sound set my nerves on edge, but I pressed on, driven by the thought of Draco’s trembling hand in mine. 

I finally emerged into a secluded clearing, shielded by ancient hedges and gnarled oaks. There, beneath the soft glow of a solitary lantern left by our allies, lay Draco—huddled among heavy cloaks and blankets to disguise him from prying eyes. My heart seized at the sight of him: weakened, pale, yet unmistakably alive. 

I rushed to his side, dropping to my knees. “Draco,” I whispered, voice choked with relief and residual panic. I reached out, gently brushing a damp lock of hair from his forehead. For a moment, I was terrified. That I had left him to die out in the forest, alone. That my effort was too little, too late.

Then, his eyes, clouded with exhaustion and lingering pain, met mine, and in that moment, I felt as if time had paused just for us. 

“Harry…” he murmured softly, the single word heavy with lingering fear. His voice trembled, and I could almost see the remnants of his terror etched across his features.

I pressed my lips against his temple, my words barely audible. “I’m here, Draco. I promised I’d come back for you. I’m not leaving you again.” I clutched his hand tightly, willing him to feel my determination, my love. Every beat of my heart echoed that promise. 

For several long minutes, we sat in silence beneath the ancient trees, the only sounds our ragged breaths and the distant hum of a world beginning to heal. Slowly, I helped him shift into a more comfortable position, arranging the cloaks to shield him further from any prying eyes. I could feel the tremor of his pulse under my fingertips—a fragile, persistent rhythm that reassured me he was still fighting. 

“Tell me how you’re feeling,” I urged softly. “I need to know you’re okay.” 

Draco’s eyes flickered, and he gave a weak smile, though his lips trembled. “I’m... hurting, Harry. Physically and inside. But knowing you’re here—it makes it easier to believe that maybe, somehow, we’ll get through this.” His voice was fragile, yet beneath it lay a hint of defiant hope. 

I nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m going to stay with you until you’re strong enough, until we can get you somewhere safe for proper healing.” I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against his. “I won’t let them take you again. He can't. He's gone."

A heaviness filled the space between us—a mix of exhaustion, sorrow, and the overwhelming weight of the battles we’d fought. I remembered every painful moment from the manor, every shout, every curse that had passed through the halls of that accursed place. But in this silent grove, under the indifferent gaze of the stars, hope began to seep in like the first light of dawn. 

I pulled out a small vial of healing potion I had forgotten I had on me. “This might help, just a little,” I offered, helping him sip it carefully. “It’s not a cure-all, but it should ease some of the pain.” 

Draco’s eyes closed as he drank, and I watched, feeling the mix of relief and guilt—relief that he might recover, guilt that I had forced him deeper into this hell, that was already half of his reality. I gently stroked his hand, whispering reassurances that felt as fragile as the night itself. 

While I stayed by his side, I took a moment to scan the horizon. In the distance, the first hints of dawn touched the edges of the sky—a promise of a new day, one that held the possibility of rebuilding what had been shattered. I knew the battle against darkness was not over; our Order would be rallying, and there would be more sacrifices to come. Death Eaters we're just as vengeful as Voldemort himself. But for now, I had to ensure Draco was safe. 

I pressed my lips to his knuckles, holding his gaze.