seahorse motel; drarry | ON HOLD

chapter 3

TRACK 3
pretty girl
clairo

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words could not describe how utterly enraged harry potter was — though, he could think of a few that would sum it up correctly.
"what the fuck do you think you're doing here?" the brunet snarled in a low, dangerous whisper. he saw the hair on draco's neck stand at just his tone alone. he wasn't sure why he had said such a cruel thing, hell, the only reason he was even in las vegas was because of draco.
"i-it's.." the blond stared hard at the ground as if it was crumbling below his feet, "it's none of your concern, just please let me stay for a moment."
the fearful gleam in draco's eye broke harry. what had he to be so frightened of? did he think harry would hurt him? the boy who lived grew more and more angry as he tried hard to analyse draco.
"you can't just barge into my motel room demanding to stay and then not tell me what's going on!" harry barked, veins popping in his neck as he clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug deep into his palms.

rapidly stepping backwards as if harry had just pulled out a knife, malfoy raised his hands to cover his face and backed up against the door. his face was now a brilliant pink and his eyes glazed over. harry immediately lowered his guard, relaxing his fists before swallowing hard. what could he say? how would he even begin? he opened his mouth to speak but a short whimper (so quiet you could have missed it) escaped draco's lips as he, quite clearly, began trembling before the brunet.

harry had only ever seen draco cry once, but never like this. the blond was quite literally convulsing as he hiccoughed and tried hard to stifle his sobs. he placed his palms over both eyes, wiping profusely as if he was ashamed. harry stared, aghast, malfoy had never broken down quite like this. not even when he had been troubled with the task of assassinating dumbledore.

"hey, calm down, it's alright." harry cooed as he advanced towards draco and placed a hand around his shoulders. the brunet stiffened when he felt draco try to flinch away before eventually giving up.
"i shuh-shouldn't be here, i know, but i-i can't go back out there!" draco wailed, shivering whilst wiping his eyes. harry stroked the blond's back, completely oblivious as to if it helped or not, and sighed.
"start from the beginning, tell me why you're here and i'll consider letting you stay." he tried to joke which failed to land miserably. the livid glare malfoy had shot him told him that much.
"oh, thuh-this is so embarrassing." draco glowered, showing the first sign that he actually was the draco harry remembered.
"do you want to borrow a shirt? i don't have any other pants but i've got boxers..." harry shrugged, squeezing draco's shoulder affectionately (internally kicking himself afterwards) before releasing his gentle grip on the other.

draco glared at him as if he had just said pigs could fly.

the brunet with olive skin braced himself for an insult — possibly even a hex, as he was so used to back at hogwarts — but was met only with a shy nod from draco, as if asking for help was the hardest thing ever. incredibly strange, coming from a boy who often times just took what he wanted. harry coughed into his balled fist to fill the silence, rushing towards his drawers and scavenging through them. oh, if sirius could only see him now. famous harry potter getting hot and flustered over a boy he hadn't seen for two years.

black would be so proud.

without thinking too carefully, harry picked out some navy blue boxers and a skin-tight black shirt with a small crocodile embroidered onto the left breast. he made his way back towards draco before depositing the clothes into the boy's lap: giving harry time to ogle at the blonde's legs. they were thin as could be, incredibly pale and littered in purple bruises. it was almost as if flowers were blooming underneath draco's skin, harry squirmed at the thought. anger burrowed in his chest once he realised how the bruises probably got there. he had heard the rumours, albeit never believing them. after seeing draco dressed the way he was with scratches and welts up and down his legs, his beliefs had flipped entirely.