Ambivalent Lucidity

Harry and Arthur returned to the Burrow so early in the morning that everyone was fast asleep, and so Harry set the book on the kitchen table before he crept upstairs to the room he and Draco were sharing with Ron. He paused and listened at the door, hearing nothing but snores, and so he quietly opened the door to see both Draco and Ron in their respective beds, sound asleep. Harry made for Draco’s bed immediately and sat on the edge of the mattress, and he took the time to appreciate Draco’s features, aglow in the moonlight from the window.

He ran his fingers over the high cheekbones, over the hollows of his cheeks, over the sharp end of his nose, and he was pleased that Draco did not wake at the small touches. Calloused fingertips slid over Draco’s forehead and slipped into his silky hair, which was so recently washed that it was still damp, and he leaned over to smell it. It was scented with citrus, and he placed a kiss to one damp lock before his eyes roamed down to Draco’s neck. The Adam’s apple, sharp and defined, remained still in Draco’s slumber, and he leaned down to kiss it as well. Draco stirred softly but did not wake, though one of his hands lifted and rested itself on the back of Harry’s head.

Harry shifted around until he was lying beside Draco, although he was lying on top of the blanket, and he glanced over to make sure that Ron was still fast asleep—he was snoring and mumbling irritably—before he began nibbling on Draco’s neck. Draco huffed and stretched, exposing more of his skin as the blanket slid off of his shoulders and revealed that he was not wearing any sort of shirt. Perfect. Harry’s biting kisses slid downward, pausing at the collarbone and at the hollow in Draco’s throat. It was not, however, until Harry’s tongue grazed one of Draco’s light pink nipples that Draco’s eyes shot open and he propped himself up on his elbows with a gasp. “Ha—” Harry placed a finger over his lips and shook his head before Draco lay back down and threw his forearm over his eyes, mouth open as teeth nipped and lips suckled at the identical buds on his chest.

Harry’s fingers caught the waistband of Draco’s pyjama pants, and Draco lifted his hips as they were tugged downward. For a brief moment, his arousal was exposed to the air, but then Harry was shrugging off his cloak, and then he was under the blankets and Draco was covered again as well. His eyes glazed over as warm lips trailed down between his legs, and he bit down hard on his own palm as Harry’s warm hand caressed his testicles then lifted them, and his sinful tongue swiped across Draco’s perineum. Draco’s legs lifted on either side of Harry, and he allowed his boyfriend to pull his hand downward, and he began to masturbate furiously as Harry bit the insides of his thighs hard enough that he was sure there would be marks in the morning. Warm breath ghosted over his balls, and he grabbed a pillow before putting it securely over his face to mask his breathing and soft moaning.

His eyes widened when Harry’s mouth disappeared for a moment then returned to the base of his erection, and he felt a saliva-soaked finger probing at his anus for a moment before it pushed inside and crooked upward. A spasm ran through Draco’s entire body, and he hissed gently into the pillow as a second finger joined the first, and Harry’s tongue was on his taint again, pressing hard as it roughly licked him, and when Harry crooked his fingers again, Draco jerked and very suddenly began to come with force. Harry caught him just in time and clamped his mouth over the head of the shaft, and Draco’s eyes squeezed close with the effort it took to not scream his pleasure into the silent house filled with people. Harry’s fingers slipped out of him, and he whimpered gently as Harry surfaced, grinning at him in the darkness. “Fucker,” Draco breathed as he removed the pillow from his face, but he was blushing heavily and smiling sleepily. “Want me to—”

“No, it’s too late,” Harry whispered as he got comfortable at Draco’s side, and he helped the blond boy pull his pants up. “I’m exhausted from looking through endless books. You wouldn’t believe…” His eyes fell closed as he spoke, and he buried his face comfortably against Draco’s neck.

Draco watched him, the obvious question on the tip of his tongue. Did you find it? But Harry was already fast asleep, his mouth slightly open on Draco’s shoulder. He smiled softly and wrapped both arms around his boyfriend, and he fell back asleep himself.

When Harry woke the next morning, he woke up alone in bed, and he sat up, dazed. He saw that Ron was already out as well, and so he rose from the bed and made a pit stop in the washroom to brush his teeth before he headed downstairs to find Hermione and Molly sitting together with the thick book of Black history. “Good morning, Harry, dear!” Molly chirped when she saw him, and she looked around before she pointed to the front door. “I thought I saw Draco heading out to the garden around an hour ago, but I can’t be sure.”

Hermione looked up from her place in the book and gave a nod. “He told me during breakfast he would be in the garden throwing gnomes. I don’t think it’s something he’s ever done before…Fred and George were out there doing it already, so no doubt they’ve got him doing it.” She paused for a moment before sighing and turning the page in her book. “He did say he wanted to talk to you about something…It sounded pretty important. I’m looking for the spell, so you go take care of him, okay?”

Harry nodded and walked outside, still dressed in the rumpled clothes he had worn to Grimmauld Place. The morning was crisp and chilly, a fresh layer of snow lining the ground, and he followed footprints in the snow to the garden. Sure enough, Draco was wrestling with a gnome, which was clamped onto his hand, and he sent it flying far over the garden wall. “Take THAT!” Draco yelled irritably after it, and when he heard a distinct giggling behind him, he flipped around, his earmuffs askew and his hat nearly falling off, to look at Harry with annoyed eyes. “Oh, and what are YOU laughing at, Potter?” he snapped, nursing his hand, and he scowled up at Harry as the black-haired boy took the hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss it.

“You’re mad,” Harry observed quietly, and Draco rolled his eyes. “In the literal and figurative sense, of course. I wasn’t just stating the obvious, you head case.” Draco wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms in defence against the wind, and Harry pulled him close before pressing a kiss to his red nose. “What did you want to see me for?” his lips mumbled against that freezing nose, and Draco relaxed in his arms.

Molly had taken a moment to make tea in the kitchen, and she looked out the window to see Harry holding Draco, shielding him from the wind and kissing his nose. She crossed her arms and smiled, observing Draco’s scowl turning into a comfortable smile, and when Draco leaned in for a kiss, she turned away to let them have their privacy. She went to the doorway of the kitchen and watched Hermione going through the book. “Is Draco good for Harry, Hermione? I would never have believed it.”

Hermione paused in her reading and looked up at Molly with a small smile. “From what I’ve seen, they’re well suited to one another. Harry really…Well, he really loves him, I think, and I know Draco thinks the world of him, too. As for whether they’re good for each other…Er, that remains to be seen, I think.” She and Molly shared a laugh, and she turned another page.

Draco pulled back from a rather long kiss from Harry, and he righted his hat before he smiled up at him. “They all…They all want to thank you for fighting my father,” he whispered finally, and Harry gazed at him in astonishment. “They say they’ve got something for you…I don’t know what it is. Anyway…” He sighed and uncrossed his arms, and his eyes unfocused.

The first personality emerged, and Harry found himself gazing into defiant eyes. “Potter,” the personality spat, and Harry recalled this personality emerging on the train. “You filthy blood traitor…Do you know why I was here?” It was not a friendly hiss, and Harry shook his head, eyes slightly wide. “I chose to assist because Draco, dear Draco, is a proper Pureblood/ He has the proper ideals, and he never abandoned them during his trauma. I helped him keep his wits about him, and my name is Walburga Black.” Before Harry could respond, she was gone, and then there was another personality.

“I gave him the strength to resist my old colleagues. Regulus,” the boy breathed, and Draco’s head swivelled before he shook his head. “Because he needed someone to try to talk him out of you, Potter—Phineas.” “Because I wanted to see you again, Harry…Sirius.” “Because I was incredibly bored—Lycoris.” Draco paused, and he looked up into Harry’s eyes, a very strange look on his white face. His hand reached up to touch Harry’s cheek, and he breathed, “Someone had to give him the strength to kill my husband…Narcissa.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart begin to beat faster as more names poured from Draco’s lips. Hesper, Harfang, Pollux, Lucretia, Ursula, Marius, and Orion. The blond looked possessed as he chanted names and reasons, and when it stopped, Harry reached out for him. Draco’s eyes flashed as he looked up sharply, and a nasty sneer overtook his pretty lips.

“Oh, Potter…Potter, Potter, you’re s very stupid,” he insisted, and he gave a mad cackle that caused Harry’s breath to hitch. “I told you to never touch me again…Ever!” He suddenly lunged at Harry and knocked him to the ground, and his wand was at Harry’s throat, pressing menacingly against his Adam’s apple. “That’s your problem, Potter. You never learned to listen!”

They scuffled in the snow as Harry growled and flipped him back over, his fists pummelling into Draco’s stomach. They were both screaming and cursing, Harry demanding to have Draco back and the doing his very best to get at Harry’s throat, to kill him.

Molly’s attention was grabbed by the sound of them shrieking in the garden, and she rushed to the window to look out. “Hermione, they’re—!”

“I’ve got it!” Hermione yelled, and she tore out of the house with the book in hand. She ran to the garden, kicking up snow behind her with every step, and when she stood over the fighting boys, she held out her wand and began to chant what sounded very much like a song over them. Harry could not make out any of the words as he ripped and tore at Draco’s hair, then Draco suddenly stilled and looked up to Hermione.

“You clever, clever girl…” Harry suddenly recognised the voice—it was Ian, the moderator of all the personalities—and he gasped up at him. “Oh, finally got it, have you Potter? You didn’t believe me, did you? You didn’t believe I would just leave? No, no…” He began to laugh, but Hermione was repeating the spell, and it was visibly weakening him. He leapt to his feet and screamed at her, but he could not touch her, and Harry stood as well, holding Draco’s body so it could not flee. He fought hard. “Let me go! LET ME—”

His body seized up and twitched, and Harry held on tightly. When he finally relaxed, he glanced back at Harry, his eyes dull, and he whispered, “Harry, they’re…they’re gone.” His eyes rolled back in his head, and Harry caught him before he hit the ground.