Gilded Soul
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
42
Views:
8,322
Reviews:
45
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
42
Views:
8,322
Reviews:
45
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Declarations
Chapter 19 Declarations
To answer a question in one of my reviews, yes this story is already fully written. It's 42 chapters long and located on FF.net in it's full format for anyone wanting to finish it now, otherwise, it will be up here in full by the end of the week
Chapter 19 Declarations
It was too blustery for the boys to go outside for the rest of the week, so they made due, hiding away in their own special room. The morning tended to consist of a slow sleepy shag, followed by a trek down to breakfast. Harry knew he was going to miss taking his meals with the Slytherin when the other students returned. Then they would lounge by the fire in the room of requirement, and Harry knew that Hermione would be so proud of all the research they did while she was away. It might even make up for the fact that they completed the second trial even though she expressly told them not to go any further in the maze without her to assist them. Sometimes they would go down to the great hall for lunch, and other times they would just sneak down to the kitchens and bring food back up with them.
Harry had never felt so relaxed and content, despite the niggling feeling that all this would crumble away the moment he had to finally face Voldemort. Draco soothed his soul in a way no one had been able to in all his sixteen years. He often wondered what his parents or Sirius would think of his chosen paramour. Would they approve, or would they be offended that he hadn’t chosen a pretty Gryffindor girl? He liked to think that his parents would just want him to be happy no matter what.
Draco rarely talked about his family. It was obvious that he felt betrayed by his father to some degree, not for being a Death Eater, but for getting himself caught and leaving the burden on being the head of house on his teenage shoulders. Harry couldn’t really blame him; it was a lot of responsibility. Almost as much as being destined to save the world.
Narsissa had sent Draco a letter after the second trial. It seemed Voldemort was only too happy to reveal his relationship with Harry to her in great detail. Draco wouldn’t let him read the note and immediately threw it in the fire. He was moody and cross the remainder of the day. It seemed mother dearest didn’t approve. Harry never saw him write her back, and he wondered if there was something he should do to try and ease Draco’s pain.
As they sat in front of the fire enjoying a bit of eggnog and discussing students returning the following day, something clicked into place. More then ever before Harry wanted to kill Voldemort and live, wanted to go on after Hogwarts and spend a quiet companionable life with his Slytherin, Draco. He knew that he would do whatever it took to return from battle, to return to him.
He looked over to find Draco watching the flames stirring uproariously in the fireplace. The way the orange and red flashed against stormy gray made something deep in the pit of hit stomach clench.
“Draco,” he whispered, barely audible. Draco didn’t answer but turned his heard to look at the Gryffindor, one eyebrow raised in question. “I love you.”
--
Draco knew his mouth was hanging open, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to do anything about it. Of all the asinine things he had expected his Gryffindor to say, ‘I love you’ was not one of them.
First the letter from his mother informing his that if this was how he wanted to carry on his life ‘fornicating with traitors’ then he could cease calling himself a Malfoy. He read the letter several times before throwing it into the blaze, but still couldn’t decide if his mother was more unhappy that he was gay, or at his choice in men. It was probably a healthy combination of both he decided at last.
It had irked him beyond measure that she had dared comment on his actions when her husband, his father, had landed himself in prison because of his own decisions. At least what he was doing wouldn’t get anyone hurt.
Well that wasn’t entirely true. Now that he pissed off Voldemort, the filthy snake could very well take it out on his mother. Also there was the bit about Harry’s death sentence. Was Draco ready to commit himself to loving someone, who told him on a daily basis that he was prophesied to die? No, that wouldn’t be very intelligent. He would stake his claim on Harry while he could, but there would be no admissions of love. That way if Harry did die in the final battle, the loss would not seem so great.
Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true, but something about verbalizing his feelings for the proud lion made it all seem to real. Did he love Harry? He refused to think about it. If he didn’t already, he knew he could fall in love him if he only allowed himself. After the war, if Harry lived, they could have this talk again.
He looked up at his friend, his lover and saw a calm mask formed over his usually expressive features. His eyes however, betrayed everything. The emerald green eyes blazed with panic and confusion, and as much as he didn’t want to cause Harry the pain of rejection, he didn’t know another way. He wasn’t ready to say it, he just wasn’t.
Harry’s voice broke through the silence, crackling like the fire. “You don’t have to say anything, I just wanted you to know.”
“Okay.” Draco knew it was probably the singular worst thing he could say at the moment, even worse than just remaining quiet, but he couldn’t stop his traitorous mouth in time. He saw Harry dissolve right before his eyes, and it pained him. The once mighty wizard, who looked as though he could in fact one day kill Voldemort, faded leaving behind a scared teenage boy.
Draco wanted to go to him, wanted to tell Harry that he loved him as well, but it was too late. He had made his decision and his answer had already done its damage.
Harry didn’t say another word, merely turned back to look at the flames, ignoring Draco’s pleading glances. After what seemed like ages Draco slipped from his armchair and stood next to Harry, offering his hand, “Come on, lets go to bed.”
Green eyes stared at the hand for a moment before turning back to the flames. “I’ll be there in a bit.”
His heart sunk but he knew he could only blame himself for Harry’s coldness, so he pulled himself heavily into bed and watched the back of Harry’s chair for movement. When he finally drifted to sleep he was still the only one in bed.
--
To answer a question in one of my reviews, yes this story is already fully written. It's 42 chapters long and located on FF.net in it's full format for anyone wanting to finish it now, otherwise, it will be up here in full by the end of the week
Chapter 19 Declarations
It was too blustery for the boys to go outside for the rest of the week, so they made due, hiding away in their own special room. The morning tended to consist of a slow sleepy shag, followed by a trek down to breakfast. Harry knew he was going to miss taking his meals with the Slytherin when the other students returned. Then they would lounge by the fire in the room of requirement, and Harry knew that Hermione would be so proud of all the research they did while she was away. It might even make up for the fact that they completed the second trial even though she expressly told them not to go any further in the maze without her to assist them. Sometimes they would go down to the great hall for lunch, and other times they would just sneak down to the kitchens and bring food back up with them.
Harry had never felt so relaxed and content, despite the niggling feeling that all this would crumble away the moment he had to finally face Voldemort. Draco soothed his soul in a way no one had been able to in all his sixteen years. He often wondered what his parents or Sirius would think of his chosen paramour. Would they approve, or would they be offended that he hadn’t chosen a pretty Gryffindor girl? He liked to think that his parents would just want him to be happy no matter what.
Draco rarely talked about his family. It was obvious that he felt betrayed by his father to some degree, not for being a Death Eater, but for getting himself caught and leaving the burden on being the head of house on his teenage shoulders. Harry couldn’t really blame him; it was a lot of responsibility. Almost as much as being destined to save the world.
Narsissa had sent Draco a letter after the second trial. It seemed Voldemort was only too happy to reveal his relationship with Harry to her in great detail. Draco wouldn’t let him read the note and immediately threw it in the fire. He was moody and cross the remainder of the day. It seemed mother dearest didn’t approve. Harry never saw him write her back, and he wondered if there was something he should do to try and ease Draco’s pain.
As they sat in front of the fire enjoying a bit of eggnog and discussing students returning the following day, something clicked into place. More then ever before Harry wanted to kill Voldemort and live, wanted to go on after Hogwarts and spend a quiet companionable life with his Slytherin, Draco. He knew that he would do whatever it took to return from battle, to return to him.
He looked over to find Draco watching the flames stirring uproariously in the fireplace. The way the orange and red flashed against stormy gray made something deep in the pit of hit stomach clench.
“Draco,” he whispered, barely audible. Draco didn’t answer but turned his heard to look at the Gryffindor, one eyebrow raised in question. “I love you.”
--
Draco knew his mouth was hanging open, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to do anything about it. Of all the asinine things he had expected his Gryffindor to say, ‘I love you’ was not one of them.
First the letter from his mother informing his that if this was how he wanted to carry on his life ‘fornicating with traitors’ then he could cease calling himself a Malfoy. He read the letter several times before throwing it into the blaze, but still couldn’t decide if his mother was more unhappy that he was gay, or at his choice in men. It was probably a healthy combination of both he decided at last.
It had irked him beyond measure that she had dared comment on his actions when her husband, his father, had landed himself in prison because of his own decisions. At least what he was doing wouldn’t get anyone hurt.
Well that wasn’t entirely true. Now that he pissed off Voldemort, the filthy snake could very well take it out on his mother. Also there was the bit about Harry’s death sentence. Was Draco ready to commit himself to loving someone, who told him on a daily basis that he was prophesied to die? No, that wouldn’t be very intelligent. He would stake his claim on Harry while he could, but there would be no admissions of love. That way if Harry did die in the final battle, the loss would not seem so great.
Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true, but something about verbalizing his feelings for the proud lion made it all seem to real. Did he love Harry? He refused to think about it. If he didn’t already, he knew he could fall in love him if he only allowed himself. After the war, if Harry lived, they could have this talk again.
He looked up at his friend, his lover and saw a calm mask formed over his usually expressive features. His eyes however, betrayed everything. The emerald green eyes blazed with panic and confusion, and as much as he didn’t want to cause Harry the pain of rejection, he didn’t know another way. He wasn’t ready to say it, he just wasn’t.
Harry’s voice broke through the silence, crackling like the fire. “You don’t have to say anything, I just wanted you to know.”
“Okay.” Draco knew it was probably the singular worst thing he could say at the moment, even worse than just remaining quiet, but he couldn’t stop his traitorous mouth in time. He saw Harry dissolve right before his eyes, and it pained him. The once mighty wizard, who looked as though he could in fact one day kill Voldemort, faded leaving behind a scared teenage boy.
Draco wanted to go to him, wanted to tell Harry that he loved him as well, but it was too late. He had made his decision and his answer had already done its damage.
Harry didn’t say another word, merely turned back to look at the flames, ignoring Draco’s pleading glances. After what seemed like ages Draco slipped from his armchair and stood next to Harry, offering his hand, “Come on, lets go to bed.”
Green eyes stared at the hand for a moment before turning back to the flames. “I’ll be there in a bit.”
His heart sunk but he knew he could only blame himself for Harry’s coldness, so he pulled himself heavily into bed and watched the back of Harry’s chair for movement. When he finally drifted to sleep he was still the only one in bed.
--