Kneeling

“That has to be the most godawful pair of socks I have ever seen in my whole life. Seriously, Harry, I’ve gotten used to the fact that you lack any kind of fashion sense whatsoever, but even for you…”

Draco’s remark - a complete non-sequitur after the comfortable silence in the room - almost startled Harry into dropping his trousers. He had been dressing lazily, taking his time since he didn’t really have to go anywhere right now, and his body was still warm and sated with the afterglow of really good sex.

He turned around to find Draco staring at him - or rather, at his feet - with a mixture of disdain and morbid fascination. Harry followed his gaze down to his socks, blushing. Those were the socks the Dursley’s had given him for Christmas this year, huge shapeless things, ineptly knitted out of scratchy grey wool by one of aunt Petunia’s friends, and probably given to him right out of Dudley’s pile of discards.

He had grabbed them in a hurry this morning, because he had overslept and was already late, and when he finally noticed just what he’d fished out of his drawer in the near-dark, there hadn’t been the time to go back and change. He’d completely forgotten about them during class, otherwise he’d have changed before meeting Draco. Harry knew he had to present a pretty ridiculous picture, naked except for a pair of awful socks, flushed bright red with embarrassment from the roots of his hair to his chest.

“Yeah, well, they were a Christmas present from my family”, he mumbled defensively. “I couldn’t exactly throw them away.”

Draco grinned. “Wow. Your family’s taste in joke gifts is either terrific or atrociously bad, I really can’t decide.”

Harry sighed, the happy afterglow vanishing immediately at the thought of the Dursleys.

“I wish it were. Believe me, they were perfectly serious. It’s not like I ever got anything else from them.”

Draco frowned at him. “Your family gives you nothing but hideous socks for Christmas? Do they hate you, or what?”

“Well, duh”, Harry said, and when Draco only frowned at him: “Wait, are you telling me you didn’t know that ?”

Draco abruptly sat up, looking at him with an expression of complete disbelieve.
“You’re kidding, right?”

Harry simply shook his head.

“Oh, please, don’t even try, Harry Potter, adored hero of the whole wizarding world. Don’t tell me your family is anything other than completely smitten with you. I bet they couldn’t believe their luck when they got to raise you.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, sure. That’s probably why they made me sleep in a cupboard for eleven years.”

Draco started to laugh, as if thinking Harry was joking, then he abruptly cut himself off when he saw Harry’s face. “Are you serious? You’re serious. Why on earth did they… Are you sure you’re not kidding?”

Harry shrugged. “Like I said.”

Draco patted the bed beside him without taking his eyes of Harry’s face, his gaze wide and intent. “Come here. Tell me.”

Harry hesitated, but there was nothing but real interest in Draco’s eyes, none of the usual mockery. His time with the Dursley’s had never been something he talked about too much, even with Ron and Hermione. It only made them upset. But suddenly he found he really wanted to talk about it, and unlike with Ron and Hermione, he didn’t have to feel bad about burdening Draco Malfoy with his troubles, after all.

Harry took his socks off, stuffing them into his shoes, out of sight, and then climbed up onto the bed. Draco shifted over to make room for him, the sheet sliding down to his waist, and for a moment Harry allowed himself to be distracted by the sight - bare chest, pink little nipples and flawless pale skin. It never failed to make his cock take notice.

But Draco was obviously not in a sex mood right now. He was leaning against the wall, wrapped in the sheet again, and looking at Harry expectantly. Harry sighed, getting comfortable beside him. “Well, the thing you have to understand about the Dursleys is that they hate all things magic…”


By the time he was finished with the story, Draco had gone… scary, in a quietly intense way Harry had never seen before. His eyes were sparkling with fury, the only spots of colour in his suddenly deathly pale face, and he was bunching up the sheet in his fists, knuckles white with the strain.

The reaction was completely surprising to Harry. Draco seemed a whole lot angrier than even he himself had ever been at the Dursleys, and he’d lived with them for eleven years after all. Sure, they were awful, but Draco’s anger seemed out of proportion to the simple fact that they hadn’t exactly treated him like a worthwhile human being - it wasn’t like they’d physically abused him, or anything.

We reached out hesitantly to touch Draco’s shoulder, and almost flinched back. He could feel the muscles vibrating with tension under his fingers, like wires strung to the breaking point.
“Hey”, he said awkwardly. “It wasn’t all that bad, you know.”

Draco looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“They are your family”, he snarled between clenched teeth. “Don’t these muggles have any damn values at all? No, don’t answer that”, he said quickly, forestalling Harry’s protest. “Sorry. I know they’re probably not all like that. But family, it’s… it’s everything! It’s supposed to come first! It’s like… They’re supposed to support you, whatever you are, that’s just…”

He broke off, shaking his head helplessly. Once again Harry was struck by how different the wizarding world was from the one he’d grown up in, a separate little world with it’s very own values and ethics. He’d known that a lot of the wizarding families were very close, but he’d never heard anyone talk about it like this, like it was something sacred. He watched Draco struggle to explain the concept to him with a sense of wonder. Was that how Draco felt about his own family? This absolutely unconditional love?

“Do all the wizarding families think that way?” he asked.

Draco shrugged. “Well, not all of us, no, there have always been people who didn’t care about things like that - I mean, just look at the Blacks -“ he shrugged, like he didn’t understand how anyone could feel that way - “But - it’s the way it’s supposed to be among purebloods, you know?”

Harry shrugged. He didn’t know, not really - he’d grown up without ever knowing this thing Draco seemed to consider so absolutely fundamental - the loyalty of a family. He thought of the way Lucius Malfoy had always been supporting Draco, buying him into the Slytherin team, bailing him out of trouble. He felt faintly envious, as he always had when he had seen Ron with his family - it must be wonderful to be loved like that.

Draco suddenly shook his head. “I just can’t believe your own family would….”

Harry shrugged. “They’re not really family to me, actually. Ron and Hermione are far more of a family to me than they ever were.”

Draco shook his head stubbornly. “Still. That’s just not right.”

Harry looked away, uncomfortable. He really didn’t feel like defending the Dursleys, but having someone point out just how much the only living relatives he had left actually sucked was strangely painful. He couldn’t have said why - it wasn’t like he didn’t know that himself - but still, it hurt.

Draco reached out to him, hesitantly, touching his cheek. “Sorry”, he mumbled. He suddenly smiled, seductively, and murmured, in a completely unexpected change of topic: “Want to fuck me?”

It was, Harry thought, a blatant and rather nice attempt to cheer him up. It worked.