Born in Frustration

~Chapter Twenty-Four: Thump, Thump~


Harry sat in his bed, wide awake with no hope of sleep in the near future. After the night's events, the two boys had sat in the living room together talking about life, school, Quidditch, etc., but Harry had carefully avoided any and all talk about sex and relationships, even when Draco had pulled the raven-haired boy closer for a quick cuddle.

He was still confused about his new feelings for the other boy and what they meant. Unfortunately for Harry, he did not have anyone to talk to about this – at least no one he was comfortable discussing his sexuality with.

He wasn’t sure what the Wizarding World felt about same-sex relationships, but if Snape’s reaction was typical then it didn’t differ much from the Muggle view. If he was gay, would his friends and adopted family abandon him? This thought troubled Harry greatly. The Dursleys didn’t really matter, they already thought he was a freak. The past few days’ activities would merely make him a bigger one.

But that thought brought up a much more unpleasant one and Harry shuddered to think what they would do when Draco was no longer here to protect him. He was sure to receive a horrible punishment for bringing this weirdness into their home. Best to try not to think about that…

His sexuality was just one of the thoughts keeping him awake. The mention of Bellatix Lestrange had set off an entirely different set of anxieties within the young man. Each time he turned his light out and settled down to sleep, Bellatrix’s malicious pleasured laugh as his precious Godfather fell through the veil would play behind his eyes and ring in his ears, her vicious taunts and insane laughter echoed around Voldemort’s words and evil cackling, setting his soul to shiver. Sirius’s stunned, disbelieving look as he tumbled past the whispering portal, Remus’s heartbroken voice telling Harry that Sirius wasn’t coming back, caused the slight boy to snap his eyes open, heart racing.

Thus, here Harry sat, three hours and twenty-two minutes after he and Draco had said goodnight, blankets up around his neck, eyes wide with worry and fear, unable to find any respite at all. Harry vaguely remembered the previous night, cuddled up with a warm body, safe within the confines of two strong arms – he had slept better than he ever had before.

Currently, he was arguing with himself about whether or not he should get up and slip quietly into bed with Draco. He didn’t want to appear weak and scared, even though he was really, really scared. He wondered to himself why a house seemed so much more foreboding in the dark when one was having troubling thoughts, each creak sent his heart pounding. Every thump of the boiler made him jump and look for dark shapes in the shadows. Harry knew he was being silly and childish, but try as he might, he could not settle his nerves.

‘This is bollocks!’ he thought to himself. ‘Suck it up, Potter. You’re going to be sixteen in a few weeks. You should be able to handle a dark house.’ Harry slammed his fists into his pillows and turned on his side. “Stupid, Bellatrix, stupid Voldemort…,” he grumbled unhappily. Harry shut his eyes firmly, determined to go to sleep…

Shwumpk!

His eyes popped open…

“Just the boiler,” he whispered as his pulse quickened. ‘It’s just the boiler,’ he repeated to himself several times, if only for reassurance. Closing his eyes yet again, he burrowed further into the bed, eyes clenched tightly closed.

Thwap, clatter, thwap!

Harry sat up quickly, his green eyes searching the room…

Thwap, scratch!

He looked toward the sound, and saw the limbs of an old tree blowing against his window and the side of the house. “Bloody Hell, Potter,” he mumbled, “get a grip.” He flopped back down on his side, grabbing one of the pillows and covering his head.

Creak, squeak, click!

‘It’s nothing.’ Harry hugged the pillow closer. ‘It is NOTHING,’ he reassured himself. ‘Houses make noises all the time. It’s just the house settling. No one’s coming up the stairs.’ He buried himself under the blankets. ‘There’s no one in the house but me and Draco.’ Closing his eyes tightly, Harry held his breath…

All was quiet now. The only sound Harry could hear clearly was the thundering of his own pulse rushing past his ears. Slowly he let out a long sigh.

Shumpk!

Thump!

Creak!

Rumble!

Gurgle, gurgle!

Shumpk!

Damn his Gryffindor pride straight to Hell! Harry threw off the covers and ran out the door and across the hall as fast his legs could carry him. He flung himself into the guest bedroom and stopped. His green-eyes wide with fright, his breathing laboured and his knees knocking so fiercely he could barely stand up right without support.

Harry stared at the bed and the boy in it. What he wanted right now, more than anything in the entire world, was to climb into that bed. He wanted the tall, blond boy to wrap his arms around him and chase away all the evil thoughts. He wanted to wrap his own arms around said boy and plant his face tightly against that pale chest where the only sound he would hear would be the rhythmic thumping of the heart contained within. The steady rumble would sooth away all his fright, coaxing him to a restful sleep.

Yes, that was what Harry Potter wanted. Harry Fucking Potter, the Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, supposed Saviour of the Wizarding World, Brave Gryffindor, wanted Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, to chase away the bogey man and the monsters under his bed…

Harry didn’t know how long he had been standing in the doorway. His right hand clutching the doorknob and his left on the doorjamb, he stood and stared and stared and stared, willing the other boy to wake and make the choice for him. Slowly his breathing steadied and his pulse returned to normal.

‘Turn around and go back to bed,’ his inner Gryffindor told him sternly. ‘Show some pride, man. Get your behind back in your own bed, turn around, suck it up and go back to your own room,’ his Gryffindor voice continued to chastise.

Harry had just determined to return to his room when…

THUMP!

SHUMPK!

RUMMBLE!

CREAK!

“Meep!” Harry squeaked as he took off running and launched himself onto the bed and into a suddenly very wide awake and stunned Draco Malfoy’s arms.

“Bloody Hell, Harry!” Draco shouted.

“I’m not going back there and you can’t make me,” Harry pouted.

“Potter.”

“Draco.”

“What the fuck, Potter?”

“Please, Draco, don’t make me go back there,” Harry gasped into the crook of Draco’s neck.

As sleep and Draco’s latest dream faded, he became acutely aware that his arms were full of a very frightened and trembling Harry Potter. Harry was clinging to him as if he were made of devil’s snare, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist, his face burrowing into Draco’s neck. Draco wrapped one of his arms around the trembling boy and ran his other hand through the dark, messy tresses, blinking his eyes several times to ward off the sleepiness. He cupped Harry’s chin and tilted the green-eyed boy’s face up.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” he asked tentatively. “Did you have another nightmare?”

Harry shook his head. “Noises…,” he choked out.

“Noises?” Draco snarled.

“Loud noises,” Harry whispered, removing his chin from Draco’s grasp as he latched onto the boy like a limpet.

“Potter, you came tearing in here at two-fucking-thirty in the morning because you heard a noise?” Draco growled.

“N-n-no,” Harry stuttered, “more than one noise. Lots of noises and-and…” Harry stopped as he realised how stupid he sounded. “There were lots of noises and thumps and – and – things…,” he whimpered, trying desperately to explain.

Despite Draco’s best effort, he found he really couldn’t be angry with Harry at the moment. The boy was utterly petrified – as the latest “Shwumpk,” from the boiler proved when it sent Harry into another fit of trembling. Besides, Draco found he really didn’t mind the current turn of events, since he really would rather sleep with Harry rather than alone. Though, perhaps he should at least attempt to discover what set the boy off, before he offered more mutually beneficial acts of comfort.

Draco slid himself up the bed. Leaning against the headboard, he tucked Harry into his side and allowed the boy to seek his protection. He nuzzled his face into Harry’s dark mop and murmured words of comfort as he rubbed the boy’s arms and back.

“Feel like talking about it, Harry?” Draco asked when he felt Harry’s pulse return to a normal rhythm. Harry shook his head. “Harry…,” Draco said in a sing-song voice.

“I don’t wanna talk, Draco.” Harry mumbled, “Please.”

Draco tipped Harry’s head up, “No, I think we should talk,” he said firmly. “You’ll feel better if we talk now,” he added reassuringly, combing his hands through Harry’s hair again. “Tell me what set you off tonight?” He pulled Harry closer to him. “Please,” he added.

Harry took a great shuddering breath. “Bellatrix, Sirius, the veil, Voldemort…,” he said all at once in a seemingly long breath. “Every time I closed my eyes I could see Sirius falling through the veil and – and Bellatrix and Voldemort would laugh…” Harry shuddered against Draco.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, realising how utterly childish he was being, he began to pull away from Draco as his cheeks coloured. “I’m being immature. I’ll go back to my own room.”

Draco merely tightened his grip and wouldn’t let Harry go. “You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry,” he said softly, kissing the tip of the dark-haired boys nose sweetly. “You have seen more terrible things in your short life than many who are three times your age.” Draco scooted down onto the bed pulling Harry with him and flipping the blankets over both of them.

“I can stay with you?” Harry asked quietly, hopefully.

“Of course,” Draco replied, though Harry couldn’t see his lecherous smirk.

Harry smiled as he snuggled into Draco’s side, placing his head over Draco’s heart. “So much for Gryffindor courage,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Courage is overrated, Harry,” Draco said with a yawn, his eyes fluttering closed as he sank into the warm bed, all plans for some night-time groping forgotten.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, “would you kiss me?”

“Draco?”

Harry picked his head up and looked at the other boy. Draco’s eyes were closed, mouth slightly opened and completely relaxed in sleep.

“Maybe not,” Harry answered himself. He sat up slightly and pressed his lips to Draco’s softly before lay back down against the firm chest and let the thump, thump, of Draco’s heart comfort him and lull him, finally, into a restful sleep.