Chapter 8

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Chapter 8

Published: December 3, 2020

Updated: September 30, 2021

Draco froze. Harry said his name. Harry said Draco. Not Wyvern. Not Malfoy. He trembled.

"Shh... I'm sorry I made you show me, but you don't have to lie anymore, okay?" Harry whispered.

He started crying, and Harry let go of his face and wrapped his strong arms around him.

"I got you. I got you, Draco. I'm right here. It's okay, just cry."

Draco broke down sobbing that someone, anyone cared about him, the real him. Harry held him tightly and whispered kind words in his ear. He didn't hate him. He wasn't cursing him or hitting him. No, Harry was fine with him crying into his strong chest.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered into his robes.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I understand. I'm not mad," he whispered in his ear. His hold on him was the only thing keeping him up.

"Let me help you, Draco... please."

He said his name, again. Draco's leg gave out for a different reason, and Harry had to catch him. Their faces were inches apart, and he knew Harry was staring into his lifeless eyes.

"You alright?" Potter asked, worriedly. He could feel his breath.

"Y-Yeah...."

"Please let me help you, Draco. You don't need to live like this anymore."

He didn't say anything. He couldn't. This was Harry Potter and he was Draco Malfoy. They were sworn enemies, rivals since day one. This wasn't meant to be. Tears came out, again. "I don't deserve to be helped," he sobbed.

"Of course, you do. Draco... you have suffered enough. Say yes. Please!" he whispered, desperately.

Against his doubts and worries, his head nodded. Potter didn't wait for Draco to take it back and immediately Apparated them away. Harry was practically carrying him when he landed.

"Here we are," he said, and set him on his feet.

"Where's here?" he whispered, smelling a slightly musty house. He was still shaking.

"My home," he said and then yelled, "Kreacher!" A loud crack came and Draco winced. "We have a guest. This is Draco Malfoy."

Draco did not like being addressed like that. He found the wall. Something that was solid to ground him.

"Kreacher is honored that a Black is here! Kreacher will clean the guest bedroom now!" he shrieked, happily and disappeared.

"Well, see, he already loves you. How about lunch?"

"I... umm... sure..." he responded as Harry took his hand and guided him to the kitchen.

"Just sit here, and I'll have it ready in a jiffy."

He awkwardly sat down and was starting to feel the panic rising. He was in Potter's house... alone and completely at his mercy, not that it was that much different than before. His breathing staggered as he realized how screwed he was. No one knew where he was.

"Calm down. We can talk after we eat," Potter said, and strangely the anxiety faded away.

"Okay," he whispered.

He listened to the pots and utensils clatter, and the smell of food permeated the air. It smelled good. it smelled like onions, potatoes and sausage.

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