Wicked

Here it is, I tried not to make you waiting too long to make up for the cliffie!

thevampiresweetie: Thanks! ;D
I´d rather not put up an alert-email though - on ffnet there are currently 130 people on story alert for this one and I´m very glad it works automatically without me having to meddle with it. But if you´ve got an account there, that´d be an option.

And now: the new chapter, starting off with the shower scene! Enjoy!



Harry started. “Are you okay?” he asked, alarmed by the uncertainty in Draco´s voice.

“Yeah...,” came the answer, a little hesitantly and with a slightly quavering voice, “it´s just... I can´t wash my hair. My arms...” Draco broke off.

“Oh.” Harry got up, rubbed his hands against his thighs nervously and sat down again: “Okay.”

He took a deep breath and got up again, unsure why he was so jittery all of a sudden.

“H-harry?” Draco sounded timid.

“I´m. Er. Here.” Harry pulled back the curtain. The sight that greeted him made his heart beat faster: Draco´s hair was plastered to his head, accentuating his eyes and making them look huge: two spots of grey in an otherwise white landscape, for Draco´s face was pale and looked strangely translucent due to the water running over it.
He looked... fair, Harry thought, not noticing that he was getting wet from the spray.

Only when Draco, with a defeated gesture, made to give him the shampoo did Harry notice how the other´s arms were trembling.
“Are you okay?” he repeated, arriving back in reality. His hand closed around the plastic bottle, brushing over Draco´s fingers.
“Y-yes,” Draco said in a small voice. “I just couldn´t keep my arms up long enough. I´m sorry... you´re all wet now.”
Harry shrugged: “It doesn´t matter,” he said and hoped it sounded as casually as he intended to.

He put the shampoo aside and stood on tiptoe, leaning forward and reaching up in order to adjust the shower head to direct the spray a little lower, so that he wouldn´t get soaked and Draco wouldn´t get cold, and unthinkingly put his hand on Draco´s shoulder to support himself.
He could feel a tremor going through the body underneath his hand and quickly withdrew it in alarm: “Excuse me,” he gasped, “I didn´t mean to hurt you!”
“You didn´t,” Draco said hurriedly. “I- I liked it.”

A rush of adrenaline ran through Harry; his heart beat even faster, and his hand seemed to prickle. Utterly confused, he fumbled with the shampoo bottle: it took him an unusual amount of time to squeeze a sufficient amount of the creamy liquid out of it because his fingers were trembling for some reason.

Draco screwed his eyes shut when Harry didn´t answer, shaking again: he hadn´t meant to say that, it had just come out before he could stop himself. What had he done?

He half-expected Harry to walk away from him and leave the room, leave the pathetic , battered, gay boy behind, but a moment later, the hand returned, cautiously touching his shoulder.

The shaking abated, and Draco slowly opened his eyes again, inhaling deeply.

Harry numbly stared at Draco´s collarbone which was jutting out prominently due to the Slytherin´s skinniness, not exactly sure what he was doing, but gently moving his hand, which was resting on Draco´s shoulder lightly, towards it.
The blond boy shivered as Harry´s fingers ran along it, retracing it until its end and running over his neck towards his back. Harry´s blood was pounding in his ears, and he was breathless.
Draco´s skin felt delicate against his fingertips, and he could feel another tremor running through his body, a tremor that was echoed in his own.
His eyes strayed towards the welts on Draco´s back, and his heart clenched painfully, making him want to undo whatever had been done to him, to make him whole again.
He regretted that he wasn´t able to do so; all he could do was to comfort the other, make him feel safe... his fingers moved again, along the back of Draco´s neck and into his hair.

Only now did he realize that he still had a blob of shampoo in his other hand, and began to disperse it on top of Draco´s head, raking through his wet hair as he went. With both hands he gently began to massage the other´s skalp, applying pressure with his fingertips and moving them in varying circles.

Draco closed his eyes again. Shivers were running down his spine due to the pleasant sensations Harry´s hands caused, and seemed to pool in his belly where they spread out warm and fuzzily once more.

None of them had uttered a word, but Harry was treating him with great care, gently tipping his head back so as to prevent him from getting shampoo in his eyes, and it was more than he´d have expected. He could relax; nothing would happen to him while Harry was there.

He had lost himself in a state of blissful relishing when Harry´s hands finally disappeared; a moment later, he could feel the hand on his shoulder again as Harry leaned forward once more, taking the shower head off its hook to rinse the shampoo out.
Still silently, Harry gently tipped Draco´s head back a little more; a great calmness had overcome him, and he knew that what he was doing was right.


When the last remnants of shampoo had vanished, Harry lowered his hand so that the warm water was running over Draco´s body once more, to prevent him from getting cold: “Are you ready to get out?” he asked, his voice strangely husky.
Draco nodded. Again the hand was on his shoulder as Harry put the shower head back and turned the water off: “I´ll get you a towel,” he said quietly. Draco felt bereft as the hand was being removed, but a moment later, he felt himself carefully wrapped into a large, soft towel, and slowly got to his feet.

Despite the fact that he was dripping water did Harry hold on to him firmly and helped him to step out of the tub, anxious to avoid that Draco slipped.

He didn´t let go of him immediately but made sure that he was steady on his feet, unaware that this rather caused Draco´s knees to feel like jelly. When he was confident that the blond boy was okay, he took another towel and draped it over Draco´s head, trying to fix it somehow.

Draco just stood there, unsure how to react, dripping water on the bath mat and trembling all over due to Harry´s proximity. When the Gryffindor had pulled back the shower curtain he had looked rather nervous, but that feeling seemed to have evaporated completely. He looked to be in charge now, busying himself with Draco´s well-being.
“There,” he finally said, eyeing the result of his ministrations before he noticed that the other was trembling. “What is it?” he asked, his eyes finally meeting Draco´s.

Time seemed to slow down until it finally came to a mind-numbing standstill. The world around him fell away, and he felt a sudden jolt of warmth in his belly as his gaze came to rest upon the other´s.

The grey eyes weren´t simply two darker spots in an otherwise white landscape anymore, they were where the sum of Draco´s being met, the essence of his soul, and Harry suddenly recognized what they were telling him: he read longing and pleading and confusion in them, mirroring his own emotions.

And suddenly time seemed to start working again, the world around them came back into existence: Harry heard the shower head dripping slowly, and the rush of blood in his ears, and the faint sounds of a car outside, when he moved forward to close the distance between himself and Draco and ever so gently nuzzled his lips against the Slytherin´s.

Draco felt so dizzy that it took him a moment to realize that it was really happening. His breath hitched as Harry´s lips touched his, brushing against them so tenderly that Draco wasn´t entirely sure wether he was merely dreaming, but then he felt himself being wrapped in Harry´s arms gingerly, and Harry´s cheek resting against his own, and that was when his knees gave out and he sagged against the Gryffindor, his heart beating rapidly against the other´s, only separated by a wet shirt and an equally wet towel.


Harry´s stomach seemed to be doing somersaults. Holding Draco close to him, he inhaled the lingering traces of wetness and soap and the underlying unique scent of Draco himself.
Happiness spread within him once more as he felt the other boy nestle against him, Draco´s arms sliding around his back and returning the embrace.
His own legs felt like jelly as well from being so close.

He nuzzled Draco´s cheek, feeling as though he was finally allowed to open a present which he had been staring at for months. He marvelled at the softness of Draco´s skin, at the feeling of his mouth against his own.

Draco leaned into Harry´s caress, closing his eyes. He didn´t care that he was growing cold, he didn´t care that this was Potter, the only thing that mattered was how gentle he was. Undemanding.

Draco was very aware that he wouldn´t have been a match for Harry if the Gryffindor had intended to force himself upon him, and that he very likely would have died if yet another man had touched him without his consent in order to use him, but for some reason, he knew that this was not not the case.

Harry didn´t want to use him, of that he was sure. He rather seemed as surprised as Draco. Who felt even more reassured when some detached part of his brain told him that Harry was not aroused, at least not from what he could feel through the barrier of the towel and Harry´s pants.

This is about me, Draco thought, amazed, not about my body.

And with that, he minutely turned his head until his lips had found Harry´s again, seeking to feel their touch.

Harry´s heart leapt at this: only now did he realize that he had been afraid Draco would recoil from him, would be too strongly reminded of being manhandled by people who wanted to brutally use him.

It only now occured to him that Draco was still naked underneath the towel and trembling increasingly. He pulled back a little: “You´re cold,” he stated softly, his eyes finding Draco´s.

The other boy blushed and shrugged at the same time: “It doesn´t matter,” he said, imitating Harry´s words from earlier, causing both of them to grin shyly, their eyes still locked.

Slowly, their expressions became serious again as they were lost in each other´s gaze, trying to understand what was happening to them.

“What is this?” Draco finally whispered.
Harry made an odd movement between a shrug and a shake of his head: “Beats me,” he replied in a whisper as well, his voice barely audible: “But I think it feels brilliant.”

Later on, Draco couldn´t recall how exactly he had gotten dressed and back into Harry´s room, it all blurred together. While he had crawled back into bed, Harry had pulled his wet shirt off and another one on and had joined him, slipping under the blanket just as he had done so many times before.
But this time, it was different nevertheless.
With the same tenderness he had shown in the bathroom did he wrap his arms around Draco until they were nestled against each other so closely that they could feel each other´s heartbeats.

Draco was afraid to close his eyes, in case this was a dream after all, but couldn´t fight it in the end. Utterly spent from showering and the assault of emotions, he felt himself drifting off to sleep, surrounded by Harry´s scent and warmth, and reassured by the steady rhythm of his heart.


When Draco awoke in the afternoon, he found himself being watched by a pair of startling green eyes. He would have found this unnerving had they not been so full of warmth; they smiled at him even before Harry smiled:“You look much younger when you sleep,” he said quietly.
Draco blinked: “I do?”
“Hmm...” Harry raised one hand and retraced the fine lines around Draco´s eyes with his finger: “These are not there then,” he mused. “And your eyes...”
His fingers wandered further, gingerly brushing over Draco´s eyelids, causing him to blink again. “Your eyes are telling that you´ve seen a lot,” he continued tranquilly. “When you sleep, that´s hidden.”

Draco felt entranced by his voice and didn´t want him to stop: “What else?”

Harry´s gaze slowly wandered over his features, letting his fingers follow, leaving a plesasant tingle in their wake as they now explored his ear: “Sea-shell,” Harry murmured, retracing the delicate curves.

Draco´s gaze lingered at him: “Do you believe all this?” he asked softly.

Harry´s eyes found his own once more: “I have stopped asking myself that on my eleventh birthday,” he replied matter-of-factly after a moment´s silence.
His hand left Draco´s ear and found his hand instead, taking it in his own and stroking it with his thumb: “But no, I don´t. I keep thinking this is insane, only... it doesn´t feel insane.”

“A few weeks ago, we hated each other,” Draco said weakly, a lump forming in his throat. “It can hardly be possible... I mean...” he fell silent, unable to betray his feelings.
He couldn´t deny his heart, even though he knew he should: “You´ve been good to me,” he whispered, his voice choked.

Harry saw that he was on the brink of tears and inwardly chided himself: he should have known that all this was very emotionally taxing on Draco, who had yet to deal with what had happened to him.

Not that he, Harry, wasn´t confused about this as well, but there was an underlying calm in him, a sense of confidence that told him it was all right. Almost as if he could hear Dumbledore´s voice, though he wasn´t sure why he thought the Headmaster would approve of this.
But he seemed to value Harry, just as Harry valued him, and the boy couldn´t for the life of him imagine that Dumbledore would reassess this opinion only because Harry was... was... that Harry felt attracted by another boy.

Feeling heat rushing to his heat, he bit his lower lip: Ron, on the other hand... he might not understand it, especially if he´d learn about the fact that it was Draco Malfoy whom Harry felt attracted to. Or Hermione, come to that.
Both of them had been constant targets of Draco´s spite, just like Harry. He looked at Draco, trying to understand how he could have been like that. It seemed light-years away and utterly insignificant now, but still, his friends wouldn´t have forgotten.

Of course, neither of them had witnessed any of what had happened during these past few weeks, had they? Draco had stood up to Voldemort in order to protect Harry, after all, and had ended up as a beaten, bloody mess on his doorstep.
And then... a frightened bundle in the clutches of nightmares which were so much the worse because they weren´t dreams but memories. A hand to hold in the dark. Someone to talk to in the waking hours, someone whose opinions on Quidditch were highly interesting. A new ally. A soft, lithe body against his own. Grey eyes so deep that one could easily get lost in them. A diversity of emotions...

Harry´s eyes widened in wonder as he realized how much Draco really meant to him: it wasn´t simply attraction. And it was totally different from how he had imagined his first kiss... well, technically it hadn´t even been a real kiss, but it had felt as intimate as could be, and had left the wish in him to repeat it.

His heart beat faster once more, causing his hands to tremble. Did this mean he was into guys? He had never felt anything for a girl so strongly which he now felt for Draco, not even for Cho.

He swallowed: this summer surely had it in for him, that much was clear. On the other hand: if it meant feeling like he was feeling now, and being able to be with Draco, there was nothing to be said against it...

Slowly, he focused on the blond boy, who had watched him while he had been mulling things over, anxiously witnessing the range of emotions which crossed Harry´s features. The Gryffindor now cleared his throat, his expression solemn as he spoke: “You know... I... I might be gay.”

Draco stared at him: “Er...” he said. “That´s... that´s...”

“Good?” Harry finished for him in a hopeful tone, feeling very bold.

Draco still couldn´t but stare. How could Harry be so... buoyant about this? It was making their lives even more complicated, and they couldn´t possibly... his skin began to prickle unpleasantly, and he withdrew his hand from Harry´s.
“I can´t,” he whispered, “please... I am dirty... tainted...” He tried to curl up in a ball.

Harry´s high spirits quickly ebbed away as he realized what he had done. Idiot, he curse himself, hadn´t he just told himself to not overstrain Draco?
Had he just destroyed everything that had been between them?

“I am sorry,” he whispered, feeling his own eyes swimming as he beheld the pain in Draco´s face. “I didn´t mean to press you...”

Draco whimpered and closed his eyes.

“Draco,” Harry tried, his voice shaking, desperately wishing to prevent the Slytherin from sliding into panic, “it´s all right...”

He sat up and tentatively touched Draco´s shoulder. At least he didn´t recoil, but he didn´t respond otherwise either.
Very gently and with his heart hammering painfully in his chest did Harry wind his arms around Draco and pulled him into his lap, cradling him close and murmuring soothing words into his ear just like he had done so many times before, despite his own distress.

“I´m dirty,” Draco repeated, sobbing brokenly, “I c-can still f-feel it... despite the sh-shower... “

“Shshshshsh...” Harry minutely rocked him until the crying abated and Draco just gave an occasional exhausted sniffle.

“Draco,” he said almost timidly when he was sure that the other would hear him, “don´t be scared, please... I know I shouldn´t have descended on you like that. I just tend to wear my heart on my sleeve is all.”

After a moment or two, Draco stirred: “Your heart?” he repeated feebly.

The subtle, shy hope in his hushed voice almost made Harry weep himself: “My heart,” he confirmed, feeling the truth behind it as once more his belly felt warm and fuzzy all of a sudden.

Draco was trembling as he looked up at him: “You c-can´t...” he breathed. “I... they...”

Harry however slowly ran his hand over Draco´s temple and caressed his cheek: “To me you are not dirty,” he said with so much conviction in his voice that he almost sounded fierce and as if daring Draco to contradict him.
Fresh tears were spilling from the blond´s eyes and running down his white face as he held Harry´s gaze.

Harry pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him, his voice reverberating through his chest as he next spoke: “Just so you know,” he said softly. “For future references.”


No more words were spoken until the evening. Draco was calm as Harry´s words slowly sank in, and despite the fear that still filled his heart, despite being afraid that he might not be good enough for Harry, he allowed himself to feel the happiness which slowly infiltrated his confused mind. He had trusted Harry this far, hadn´t he?
Harry on the other hand lay awake that night, with Draco snuggled up against him, the backs of his hands dug into Harry´s shirt. He listened to the Slytherin´s soft breathing and wondered how things were going to be from now on.
He had been honest with Draco concerning his feelings. He didn´t know if this was what... well, love felt like, but he certainly felt giddy whenever he recalled the moment in the bathroom when Draco had returned the sort-of kiss.
His life, he thought, really seemed bound to be complicated.

To Be Continued