Ambivalent Lucidity

Draco could not breathe. He was naked, thrown hard up against a cold dungeon wall that cut grooves into his back and sent drops of green slime oozing down the length of his spine and sliding down his legs. Gooseflesh had risen all over him, the hair on his arms and legs sticking straight out in a desperate attempt for warmth, but when it came, Draco struggled against his shackles and yelled with the futile hope that someone, anyone would hear. A cold hand slapped over his mouth, tasting of blood and grime, and Draco gagged as cool lips pressed to his neck, a hand forced his head to the side so that sharp teeth could graze the thin, pale flesh flecked with dungeon filth. Draco tugged against his shackles again, as though one more time would save him.

“Now, now,” his captor whispered in his ear, breath warm and vile, “Draco, I’m coming to suspect that you are uncomfortable? You’re going to damage your pretty little wrists like that, and I certainly don’t want that... They’ll be holding you up later.” Draco felt bile creeping up his throat, and he kicked out at the other man. “So feisty...” He delivered a strong punch to Draco’s gut, stepping back as the impact forced the vomit that was already filling Draco’s esophagus to spray from Draco’s lips. “Aw, baby’s got a stomachache...”

Draco gave a horrible, wet cough, and yelped as he was slapped in the face. “What do you want from me?!” he screamed, tears streaming down his face, and when his captor jerked him by the hair, he gave a sob and prepared himself for the inevitable punch to the jaw.

“I want to fuck you, Draco,” The voice came harsh and gritty, and Draco squeezed his eyes shut as he found himself forced around, his shoulders ripped from their sockets, and he pressed his face against the grimy wall whilst trying to think of a better place. By the time he was violated, without any aid whatsoever, he was no longer there.

Draco sat up suddenly in bed with a strangled yelp and a terrible start. He found himself trembling and pouring cold sweat, and when he felt someone move beside him, he jerked and nearly fainted. Hands searched all over the blanket, trying to figure out where he was, and when his hand touched someone else’s, he squeaked in terror and looked for a way out.

Harry’s eyes opened when Draco touched him, and he felt Draco thrashing, panicking, and he sat up to take him by the shoulders. “Draco, Draco,” he whispered softly, feeling Draco struggling against his grip, and he forcefully pulled him in close. “It’s Harry. Shh... Bollocks, you’re soaking wet.” He felt Draco freeze up for a moment, and while he thought Draco’s personalities had switched, when Draco collapsed against him and quivered, Harry strongly suspected it was still the actual Draco. Harry grabbed his wand and cast a Silencing Charm on the bed so Draco would not wake up the other sleepers, and he murmured, “Lumos!” so he might see his companion. “It’s all right... You were having nightmares...”

Draco pressed himself into Harry’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck, gulping and shuddering as he struggled to get closer. A warm hand threaded through his hair, sliding down to the back of his neck and giving it a massaging squeeze, and Draco heaved a heavy sob against Harry’s collarbone. “F-fuck,” he choked, and he allowed himself to weep against Harry’s neck until the other pushed him back a little and cupped his cheek.

“Let’s get you into some dry pyjamas, okay?” Harry asked, and when Draco shakily nodded, Harry disappeared for a moment outside the bed before returning with a warm pair of flannel trousers. “You don’t have another shirt, I’m afraid...” He reached out and unbuttoned Draco’s shirt, sliding it from his shoulders in the dark, and he tossed it carelessly out of the bed curtains before gesturing to Draco’s trousers. “I’ll let you take care of that,” he whispered, and he smiled a little as Draco slipped out of the bed, trousers in hand, and he returned a few moments later in new trousers and a new pair of boxers peeking over the waistband. “There you are...” He waved his wand to dry Draco’s side of the bed, not envying his night sweats, and he made sure the drapes on the bed were shut tight before he reached out to pull Draco close. “...Are you all right?”

Draco wiped the remnants of tears from his cheeks before shakily pressing himself against Harry, allowing him to lie down and pull him onto his chest. He rested his cheek in the hollow of Harry’s shoulder, his arm lying across his stomach and his legs tangled with the other’s, and nodded. “I-I think so. I didn’t mean to wake you up; I was panicking, and I... I...” His eyes slipped closed and he fell silent as he felt Harry kissing the roots of his sweaty hair, and he sought out Harry’s other hand beneath the blanket. Upon finding it, he laced their fingers almost roughly and clung to him, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling of Harry doing such a thing.

“It’s okay,” Harry claimed softly in the dark, letting his wand extinguish and tucking it beneath his pillow before he released Draco’s hand to wrap both arms strongly about him. “You shouldn’t apologise for something you have no control over, Draco.” He squeezed Draco before untangling their legs and rolling onto his side so he could face him, and he lifted a hand to brush a string of hair from his cheek. “What were your nightmares?”

Draco’s eyes widened slightly at Harry moving so they were facing each other so closely, and at the question, he looked down at the mattress. “I was, er, locked up in a dungeon and... and...” He shook his head insistently before looking Harry in the eyes. “M-memories that are best left alone...” He saw the look of horror in Harry’s expression even in the dark, and he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see it. “Don’t...”

Harry was faced with a dilemma—should he press Draco about it or not? The sight of Draco with his eyes slammed shut in an attempt to forget suggested that he should leave it for now, and he reached out to brush his cheek. “I won’t,” he whispered, and he smiled as Draco nodded and moved up to rest his head on the pillow. His hand slid over to rub the curve of Draco’s bare side, feeling the ribs beneath the skin with his fingertips, and he blushed as Draco slid a hair closer to him at the contact. His rough palm slid over Draco’s side and onto his back, fingering his spine from his lower back to his shoulders, and when Draco shuddered, Harry leaned in close to touch the tips of their noses, and their stomachs came flush together by default.

Draco’s nightmare rushed to the back of his memory as Harry pressed so close, and he brought one hand up to Harry’s chest in case he found he might like to push him away, but his other hand slid down to cup Harry’s sharp hip, and when Harry’s hand moved into his hair to cradle the back of his head, he opened his eyes and looked into his companion’s. He could taste Harry’s breath on his own lips, and it seemed that they lay there for eons holding each other before Harry closed the gap between them and brushed a kiss very softly along Draco’s lower lip. The touch was so light that Draco wondered if he had imagined it, but there it was again, and he felt his heart rate double when Harry took that lip between his own and suckled it gently. “Mmmn...” Draco fought his body for control, wanting to throw himself into the kiss and shove his tongue down Harry’s throat, but he managed to stave it off and merely leaned closer, crushing their lips together and wrapping his arms tightly about Harry as he opened his mouth against him. He felt Harry’s tongue brush his, and he met it with his own, whimpering at the warmth it provided. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck rose, and when they parted for air, Draco’s eyes opened and he stared into the eyes before him with bated breath.

Harry could not believe he had just kissed Draco Malfoy and the world had not come to an end—Ron was still snoring, Neville was still mumbling in his sleep, and his own heart was still pounding in his chest. Thus, he did the only logical thing he could think of: he leaned in and kissed Draco again, though this time it was much softer and shorter. He wanted to do this slowly, wanted to give himself time to really enjoy this, so when the second kiss ended, he pulled Draco to his chest and squeezed him. “Go back to sleep, Draco...”

“But—”

“Shh. We’ll talk in the morning...”

After extremely pleasant dreams the rest of the night, Harry woke early the next morning and, without opening his eyes, reached over to Draco’s side of the bed to draw him close, only to contact cool sheets. He grunted and slid one eye open to find the bed otherwise empty, the drapes thrown open, and he sat up to run his hand through his hair and sigh. “Draco?” he called quietly, and he received no response. Groaning, he slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, only to be met by Neville at the door. “You seen Malfoy?”

Neville nodded grimly. “Yeah, he’s pretty sick. He’s been throwing up all morning,” he said with a disgusted shudder, and he stepped aside so Harry could pass into the bathroom. “It’s not Draco-Draco though... Sounds like a kid.”

Harry groaned again and moved into the bathroom, seeing Draco’s feet extending from beneath one of the stalls. “Hey,” he whispered as he opened the door and sat down on the floor beside him, who was resting his cheek on the toilet seat and clutching his arms around his stomach. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t feel good,” came Draco’s child persona, and he whimpered as Harry pulled him in against his chest. “Woke up this morning and Dwaco was so tired so I came out instead and... and I don’t wanna frow up again...” Tears rose to his eyes and he reached out to grab the toilet bowl, leaning over it and dry heaving for a moment before he sank back against Harry’s chest. “I think Dwaco wants to come out to see you, Hawwy,” he whispered, and he closed his eyes.

Harry was suddenly very conscious of his bedraggled state—he had not brushed his teeth or anything—, but when Draco came to and looked sickly into his eyes, he melted. “Good morning,” he whispered, and he found himself flushing a little as Draco’s arms slithered around him there on the bathroom floor. He leaned up against the door of the stall and held Draco until his stomach calmed down a little, his hand rubbing in small circles just above Draco’s bellybutton. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A bit,” Draco rasped, voice harsh from vomiting, and he covered his mouth with his hand. “I really, really need a toothbrush, but I don’t want to get it and I don’t want you to move...” He slid his other hand down to rest on top of the one on his stomach that was rubbing therapeutically, and he moved it to a more ideal location three inches north. “There... Mmm... I think I need to visit Pomfrey today. I have a fever.”

“Poor thing,” Harry mocked gently, and he relaxed against the door, finding a more comfortable position for the both of them before he resumed massaging. “I’ll take you down when you feel up to moving around more, but for now, do you want to stay here or go back to bed?” He felt Draco nod at the latter, and he helped him to his feet, giving the toilet a final flush before assisting Draco back to the dorm room.

Draco crawled into the bed and drew the blankets up to his chin, peeking over the edge to smile a little at his caretaker. “So... when will we talk about what happened?” he inquired in whisper, and he felt slightly flustered as Harry looked around to make sure no one was watching before leaning down to kiss Draco’s sweaty forehead.

“Not now...Now you sleep.”