The Scent Of Malice | drarry

thirty | bloody knees

Once inside, Harry made the executive decision to lead them both down to the Slytherin dormitories. Gryffindor seemed warmer in his mind, but he'd rather not attempt to sneak the ragingly high Slytherin into the lions' dorms at 5 in the morning and risk getting them both Hexed by Seamus or Ron, or both.

Better to crash in the basement where at least Malfoy was popular, and most people had apparently seen him in this state before, if Daphne Greengrass's description of events was anything to go by.

"Take your clothes off," Malfoy said as soon as they were through the dormitory door, making no effort to keep his voice down. Then again, louder, "Get your cock out."

"Malfoy!" Harry choked, slapping a hand over the other boy's mouth in the dark. "People are sleeping in here!"

"So?"

"So!" Harry racked his brain for a way to explain it to the colossal idiot at his side. "So, they don't want to hear you saying vulgar things like that, nor do they want to hear about me with my clothes off! I'm keeping them on, okay? And you're keeping yours on too. Though maybe I should take a look at those knees..."

He pushed Malfoy gently down onto the bed and crouched before him, ignoring the whispered comments about what Draco might like to happen next from this position. He rolled up the boy's sodden trouser legs, cast a quiet Lumos, and surveyed the damage.

The cuts didn't appear too deep, more like grazes that had been irritated and re-opened over the course of the evening - I wonder how that happened, Harry rolled his eyes, picturing Malfoy's antics skidding around on the ice.

There was a fair amount of blood, though, and Harry was sure it would smart in the morning. He wondered why he felt so close to the other boy, so suddenly relaxed around him. Because this was still Malfoy he was looking at, still the boy who loathed him and said the worst things he'd ever heard.

Yet perched on the bed in the light of Harry's wand, his eyes dilated and that dreamy look on his face, Malfoy seemed small, breakable. Not capable of the violence he'd exhibited in his life.

"Take your trousers off," Harry whispered softly, "Or do you need me to do it for you? The cuts aren't bad but they still need cleaning up or they'll get infected."

"You do it," came Malfoy's reply, and Harry could feel the smirk without lifting his wand to see it.

"You're more than capable," Harry rolled his eyes fondly, but his hands went diligently to the buckle of Draco's belt, undoing it with as much care as he could, keeping the operation clean and clinical and distinctly un-sexual.

Belt undone, Harry moved onto the zip, which took a couple of tugs but soon it was down and Malfoy lifted his body obediently to allow Harry to slide the material down from his hips.

"Can you grab me a Viagra from the drawer by my bed?" he asked thoughtfully, and Harry shot him a warning glare in the dark, punctuated by a hard pinch on the thigh. All fondness dissipated instantly.

"I can't believe you just fucking said that! Do I need to cast a Silencing charm?" he hissed. No reply. "Good."

With Malfoy dutifully silenced and intent on his lollipop once more, Harry focused his mind on cleaning the light wounds on the boy's knees and shins, using what little Healer magic he knew.

It was rather satisfying to watch the blood cleanse away in great swathes and the little lacerations in the skin close up over themselves. It wasn't perfect, still patchy in some places and there'd definitely be bruising, but it was a start, and he was proud of his handiwork.

When he was finished, Harry placed a feather-light kiss over the freshly healed skin, slid into bed beside Malfoy, and breathed a tired sigh of relief. The quietness didn't last long, however, because Malfoy rolled over almost immediately to drape a leg over Harry's hips, pressing his mouth up to his ear to whisper all the things he'd like to do to him.

His lips crept down to suck and bite at the sensitive skin of Harry's throat in between sentences, a feeling which did nothing to make Harry want to stick to his idea of not having sex.

"Please don't," Harry whispered weakly, conjuring a light wall between them which Malfoy promptly broke down with his own wand.

"Why not?" he whispered back, his hand roaming dangerously low over Harry's stomach and causing at least one or two twitches. "You don't want me?"

Harry sighed. There was no point denying it, he knew Malfoy's hand could feel exactly the effect he was having on him. "You know I do."

He decided to clarify. "It just feels weird when you're so high and I'm not, like I'm taking advantage of you. I'm not sure if you can consent."

"Get high, then," was Malfoy's suggestion.

Harry couldn't think of anything more stupid.

"You're going to be so foul in a couple of hours when this wears off, aren't you?"

Malfoy sighed blissfully. "Not if I take more."

"Don't you dare, or I'll Hex you into next week," Harry snapped under his breath, his tone suddenly harsh. "I didn't ask to be woken up and to come and get you like this, alright? I didn't want to do it. I'd rather be in my own bed fast asleep right now, but I'm looking after you, because you're a moron. So don't take the piss. Just go to sleep, alright?"

"Ecstasy is a stimulant, Potter, I can't just sleep," came Malfoy's scathing reply. "I'm overstimulated."

"Try," Harry insisted in a whisper. "For me?"

The request seemed to actually work, as the only sound for a couple of minutes was the sound of their breathing before Harry broke the silence himself.

"Why did you call for me?" he asked, surprising himself with the boldness of his question. The words hung in the air, and he felt Malfoy prop himself up on an elbow to regard him with those beautiful dilated eyes in the dark.

"Why the fuck do you think?" he asked.

________________________________

a/n: please vote and comment if you enjoyed this chapter, i'd really love it if you did!!! and as ever, stay tuned for the next update because shit's about to get dramatic

~ paradisedraco