Eighth Year (Drarry Fanfic)

Inevitability

"A practice game against the Eighth Years?" Harry scratched his jaw, absently repeating Ginny's suggestion as they walked up the last flight of stairs to the Eighth Year's living quarters.

"Yeah! Its a fantastic idea, Harry. You have to admit. There's quite a number of really good Quidditch players among the Eighth Years who used to play for their House Teams." Ginny, the current Captain of the Gryffindor Team, pleaded. "We need all the help we can get."

Harry grimaced, nodding, "Yeah..." He glanced at Ginny, a displeased pout on his face, "But that means I can't play."

Ginny snorted, eyes dancing merrily, "Too bad! You'll just have to suck it up, coach." A wide grin, wolfish, stretched across her face as she added, "Besides, I'd really like to play against Malfoy as Seeker. Imagine it. The past and present loves of The Boy Who Lived duking it out on the Pitch!"

"Merlin... Gin, really?" Harry groaned, raking a hand through his hair.

After a muttered password, the portrait door swung open to admit them into the cozy Common Room. Harry immediately noticed something was off from the way Hermione and Pansy jumped to their feet as soon as he walked in. Astoria was also present; a worried look marring her delicate features. Ron remained seated; a game of Wizard's Chess in progress between him and Blaise. Both boys glanced up at Harry; Ron looking tense and Blaise quickly turning away, but not before Harry caught the pained look on his face.

Frowning, Harry opened his mouth to speak but was immediately grabbed by Hermione and jostled towards the stairs leading to the Boys Dorms with a hissed, "Draco won't speak to us. Something's terribly wrong, Harry. He's been in your bathroom for ages now. There are Wards he'd set up that we couldn't get through."

Without another word, Harry was up the stairs like a shot, bolting down the darkened corridor. Panting slightly, he yanked the door open, eyes scanning the empty bedroom; the quiet sound of sloshing water was the only thing he could hear other than the vicious pounding of blood that echoed in his ears.

"Draco?" Harry called out, voice hoarse, pulling the heavy door close behind him. With an distracted wave of his hand, Locking and Silencing Spells immediately went up.

Heart thudding like a jackhammer, Harry made his way to the bathroom and tried the door. It was locked. He could distinctly feel the faint vibrations of Draco's Magic when he touched the Wards. He sighed in relief; he could feel them give way at his presence.

"Draco, I'm coming in, alright?" Harry pressed his forehead against the cool wooden surface, waited for a breath, before casting a wandless Alohomora.

Steam instantly spilled out into the bedroom, washing over Harry as soon as he pushed the door open. Striding inside, his heart leapt to his throat when his eyes fell on Draco.

Draco was sitting in the tub, fully clothed, submerged to his chin in steaming water, one arm dangling over the edge, a bottle of Ogden's held loosely in his fingers. The Firewhisky was half-empty and Draco was arse over tits drunk, head lolling back, eyes half-closed.

"Shit...!" Harry skidded to his knees beside the tub, hands flying up to to cradle Draco's face. "Draco? C'mon, love, open your eyes. Let's get you out of the bath."

Draco peered blearily up at Harry; a slow, blissful smile emerging on his flushed face, "Hi, Harry..."

Breath catching in his lungs, Harry leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss onto Draco's damp, fevered forehead. "Hey, beautiful."