Draconic Recall

The knock at Harry's study door was not unexpected and even though he was only half way finished grading the third year Hufflepuff tests, he mentally put his work to bed for the night.
"Enter." The door swung open, charmed to his voice to reveal Snape. The man betrayed no emotion and entered, swiftly shutting the door behind him and coming to sit in the spare chair Harry kept for guests.
"I have run out of patience with him, Potter." Snape began, plunging into the subject with all his usual bluntness. "He refuses to engage in even the slightest activity and I have my own things to attend to."
"Can you not indulge him in it a while longer, Severus?" The potion master winced at the use of his name. Harry took a grim pleasure from addressing him so informally.
"The last thing he needs is to be indulged! If I had it in me, I would slap him."
"If you feel so strongly about that, then why are you here, about to ask me to rouse him from his stupor? Surely, I am another form of indulgence." They locked stares, but where once Harry would have held it for as long as he could as a bizarre sort of pissing contest, he now deliberately broke it. He didn't want to play games.
"You are my last resort, before I try to shake sense into him. He takes it hard enough when my words are harsh, I can hardly imagine what type of breakdown he would have if I laid a hand on him in discipline."
"You know?! You know how much you hurt him and you persist? What kind of man are you, who would cause intentional pain in the one who trusts you more then any other?"
"The kind who did not ask to be trusted." For a moment, Snape looked every year his age, his voice affected with burden. "Go to him, Harry. It's you he needs, not me."
Before Harry could reply or call him on the use of his first name, the man was gone, nearly running from the room. It seemed an age, but was perhaps only moments later, that Harry rose from his desk to descend to the dungeons. The familiar damp smell rushe to to embrace him with emotion of a thousand memories. The steps were uneven, but he had long since learned their capricious ways and avoided the more treacherous patches of lichen. The door to Snape's quarters opened with a whispered word, letting Harry into the pit of Hogwart's.
"Draco?" Harry called out loudly, muttering "˜lumos' under his breath. Faint lights sprung up around the rooms, but Draco was not in the main part. "Drake?"
"Bedroom." The reply came and Harry followed the voice to the bedchamber he'd only been in a handful of times. The lights had answered his call here as well, warming the room. The blonde was sitting in his usual enchanted chair, his good eye looked at the floor, the blinded one staring out blandly into space.
"What are you doing in here?"
"Wallowing. In my misery. Indulging myself as Sev would have it." Self-hatred filled the uneven tone. "He sent you down here, didn't he? He's run out of patience to deal with me and he sent you. I think he believes you're a bandage for all my emotional troubles."
not not." Harry assured him, sitting on the antique bed that Draco had been facing. "In fact, I don't think any one should be. You've a right to be depressed. You're always pretending that everything's all right, but you're dying, Drake. Piece by piece and if I was you I would throw far more tantrums and sulk more then you do."
"No you wouldn't." The argument was sure, but not followed by a reason. "I want to ask you a favor"¦a fairly large one. Possibly the biggest I've ever asked of anyone."
"What is it?" Apprehension clear in his voice. Harry Potter was used to people asking him for favors that he did not want to grant.
"I want to know what it's like to be with someone who loves you"¦" A long pause and Harry was certain that Draco wasn't going to finish, but the blonde seemed to collect himself and managed to continue on. "You're right. I'm dying and I don't think about it to often because it's far to frightening to dwell on. But this," He halted to touch his useless eye, "this steps over the line. I woke up, finally and realized that my days are numbered; my chances of happiness are becoming fewer and farther between. I would like to die, knowing that I did not pass you up."
"But Snape"¦" The stumbled beginning has no end to it as Harry simply can't form the words to describe the utter wrongness of what Draco is asking of him because underneath he wanted it badly enough not to care.
"Is my love for whatever I have left of life, but he will never feel about me the way you do. I want to know what it's like to be loved by an equal, not by a master, Harry. Please."
"Not here." He managed. The please had undone him. If this is what Draco truly wanted then Harry would not to deny him. For years he had loved from a proper distance for both of them, cursing Snape for getting Draco's heart before he had. One night, for that was all it could be, would not make up for the lifetime that could have been, but it would be enough to soothe something in both of them.
Without further words, Harry apperated them both to his own bedroom.
"Why here?" Draco asked, expressing no surprise at his sudden dislocation. He'd arrived without hiair,air, propped on pillows on the large soft bed.
"We talked once, Ginny and I, about what would happen if the other one should die. It was one of those silly conversations that young love has, I suppose and it was after the war. She told me that if I should take another lover after her death then she wanted it to be in our bed. She didn't want me to hide as if her ghost still lingered in the mattress." He paused. "Plus, I've always wanted to see you on Gryffindor colors."
Draco looked down at the sheets, seeing their deep wine red color trimmed in gold and let out a hiccupping laugh.
"Glad to fulfill at least one of your fantasies."
Harry stood, unsure, over the blonde.
"How much do you want"¦.how much feeling do you have?" Tentative, embarrassed half questions came from his lips before he could stop them. "What does Snape"¦"
"We don't do anything, any more. Not since I lost all feeling below the waist. But I want you in me." The strange harsh tones only served to define how strongly Draco felt. "I don't care if my body can't feel it. I will."
"All right." Gingerly, careful not tog thg the other man around, Harry took off his own shoes and socks then set to work on Draco's. All the while he could feel the one eye on his back, bright and alive. Dimly, he wondered if he should be happy about this. He was doing his friend a favor, caving into his own long buried desires and even fulfilling Ginny's wish that he would not be alone after her passing. But contrary to everything else"¦.Snape was a friend. Ginny had liked and trusted the man. If it hadn't been for their continuing alterations over Draco, the Potions Master and Harry might have had a very deep friendship.
"No regrets, Harry?" Draco asked, his voice at the pained whisper and the reminder of the reason for his uneven tone set Harry to work again. With calm detachment, he shed his robes then helped the other man out of his.
Naked, Draco was even more beautiful then he was in his artfully cut clothes. Pale skin that rarely saw the sun was smooth and soft under Harry's reverent hands. The muscles in his legs and left arm were slack with disuse. His cock, which now hung fairly useless between his legs was long and thick.
"Beautiful." Harry muttered, moving over the still body again. Draco's good arm draped over his shoulders and laced into dark hair.
"You too. Now, show me."
With a soft sigh, Harry leaned down and kissed sweet lips. He had laid many casual friendly kisses on that pale mouth, always longing to hold on a little longer, taste deeper. Now he could and that freedom him spurred him on more then any words that Draco would try and ply him with. At great length and leisure, Harry tried to memorize the feel and taste of Draco Malfoy. His mouth yielded up only the clean minty wetness that Harry associated with a through tooth brushing. Continuing, he licked gently at the pouty lower lip, finding there a bit of unique spice, a bit of coppery blood and dry skin.
Seized by an urge that he could not explain, Harry performed the same ritual Ginny had always demanded before and after they made love. With feather light touch, Harry dropped a kiss on the tip of Draco's aristocratic nose, the lids of both his eyes and both cheeks.
"S'nice." Came a breathy whisper, so Harry kept on, butterfly kissing as much of the beautiful face as possible, before dipping down into another sweet liplock.
"Love you." Harry whispered into the still functioning ear. He felt the shiver run through the body beneath him. "Drake?"
"Mm?"
"I want to try something"¦tell me when you can't feel my kisses?"
Confused, but willing to play along the blonde gave a single nod. Harry moved to kiss the rounded chin, decorating the long slender neck. He wanted desperately to suck at the juncture between shoulder and neck, but knew that this artwork was on lend. Instead, he licked and Draco said something to low to be heard, but might have been a curse. Encouraged, he continued. The right shoulder was still safe territory, he trailed down to suck at one beautifully small nipple. In a strange half-arch, Draco leaned into that touch, a cry of pleasure. Harry left it for the moment and traveled to across the thin chest, too thin. Draco had been in fine Quidditch shape, once upon a time, but the curse had sapped him of his strength piece by piece.
"I won't feel anything there."
Harry glanced up. Draco's expression gave nothing away. He was paused over the left side of the emaciated chest. Without pause, he gave the numb side the same treatment he had lavished on the one that sensed.
"How does that feel?" He asked.
"It doesn't"¦except"¦I can feel the warmth"¦" The good eye widened. "I can feel warmth."
"Good." Harry said simply, then continued concentrating on Draco's skin.
Draco gave no further indication that he could feel Harry's caresses. When he arrived at the pale man's quiescent cock, he sent a querying gaze. The single ice blue eye gazed down at him, attempting detachment.
"I can't. No touch could rouse that flesh, so don't try."
Harry placed a gentle kiss there any way, before returning to sweet parted lips. He kept his hands running gently skimming patterns over the motionless body beneath him.
"What do you want me to do, Drake?" He felt strange, speaking so loudly with his bed partner. He was used to the intimate whispers that lovemaking with Ginny had always entailed.
"I want you in me." The voice was pleading and hopeful.
"But you won't feel"¦"
"I will." The blonde insisted. "Even if it's not the way I would have."
Reluctantly, Harry withdrew for an instant to search for the hand lotion he used only once in the long months since Ginny's death. He coated his fingers before moving to cover Draco once more. With careful hands, he shifted the other man, so that one leg was draped over his shoulder, a move that would have been easier had his partner had any control over the lower half of his body. Given Draco's condition, it would have been easer to do this from behind, but Harry had promised and making love was just not the same if you couldn't see the persons face. Harry was sentimental and romantic like that.
"You've done this before, right?" Draco teased a little. " I mean, what with being such a good husband all these years"¦"
"I was a very different person before"¦everything, and you know it." Harry scolded lightly. "It may have been a long time, but I haven't forgotten how."
That being said, he leaned down to pull a sweet kiss, silencing the unnaturally loud voice. As he deepened the contact, he pushed one of his lubricated fingers to Draco's opening. The blonde made no sign of feeling anything, so Harry pushed deeper, adding another finger faster then he would have with a lover who still had functioning nerve endings. No muscles contracted around his fingers, but there was still a certain tightness that Harry would always associate with this type of sex. He reached for the lotion again, Draco grabbed it from him with his good hand. With all the talent that Harry had always suspected those long talented fingers possessed, Draoateoated the scared man's burgeoning erection.
"Love you." Harry whispered, hoping the other man would just read his lips.
He entered in one smooth stroke, aiming his kisses lower, dusting them across that elegant neck. He concentrated on the functioning right side, using a hand to pinch the sensitive nipple. Draco shuddered and sighed as Harry moved against him, leaving a trail of owning marks that seared his flesh.
For Draco it was like being in a warm bath. He could feel Harry's deepest strokes touching on some place in his body that still owned the ghost of feeling. It was amazing to have this again. To be touched with reverence was new and wonderful. Sev always touched him with concern and vague irritation, if he touched him at all. This was beautiful. He felt saddened when Harry shuddered against him, signaling the completion of the act. To his surprise, the soft warmth didn't immediately subside. Instead, Harry remained in him, engaging him in another searing kiss. For a long moment, Draco felt whole.
Slowly, Harry pulled away, summoning a damp cloth that he ran between Draco's legs and then his own. He threw it aside and then moved so that he was curled against Draco's good side.
"Love you." Harry said clearly into his ear, nuzzling it a little.
Draco let his arm curl around the Man Who Lived.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure." Harry practically purred, snuggling against the warm body in his bed. "Now rest a while. No one's expecting us anywhere for a few more hours."
In moments, Harry fell asleep. His hot breath caressed Draco's neck in long even strokes. They lay like that for hours, Draco carding pale fingers through his partner's dark locks and trying not to think in "˜what ifs' and "˜maybe'.
"Are you pleased with yourself now?"
The voice was so infinitely familiar that at first, Draco barely stirred. It took him a moment to remember that that voice should not be here. Not now.
"I"¦" He trailed off, fumbling for something. Wished to all that was holy that when he turned his head, he wouldn't see what he knew he would see.
"Mr. Potter, you have something that belongs to me."
Harry stirred at his side, rousing slowly then all at once when he recognized the harsh tone. He sat up and turned slowly to face the potions master, who was currently standing at his bedroom door.
"You entrusted him into my care, Snape." He surprised himself with the evenness of his voice. "You knew exactly what would happen."
"How dare you"¦"
"Your own words.' Its you he needs, not me.' Well you were right. I only did what I was asked." Even as he said the words, he let a hand drift to Draco's own, squeezing lightly, reassuring him.
"Is this what you would choose, Draco?" Dark eyes burned into pale flesh and Draco felt sudden rage take him as it had not since his school days. He let if flow through him, embracing his old self, briefly.
"I wanted to see what it was like to be with him." He used his good arm to prop up the rest of his useless body. The odd skewering of his vision was momentarily forgotten as he concentrated all the raw scorn into his halved vision. "It was very beautiful. I'm only sorry that I never realized it could be that way before."
"If you're so very happy in Professor Potter's company, I'm sure he wouldn't mind you relocating your things to his quarters. You're no longer welcome in mine." With a last cold glare, Snape turned and left.
"Oh shit shit shit." Draco muttered, falling back to the pillows, blinking back tears.
"You are free to stay with me"¦" Harry started, then stopped and sighed. He would gladly take Draco into his quarters and care for the man, but it meant changing his whole life and he would live every day knowing that the blonde was unhappy. Draco was never happy away from his potions master.
"He doesn't want me." Draco said stiffly, through his tears. "He set us both up and now, he's punishing me." Harry could not find words to fill the silence, so instead he settled back on the bed, holding the pliant body next to him. "He wants me to come begging for his forgiveness"¦and he'd be right to expect it, but I won't give it to him. I won't be manipulated like this. Not any more. You really wouldn't mind if I stayed with you?"
"Not at all. I need the companionship." Harry admitted. It would be nice to have someone to come home to, besides empty memories of his greatest love. "As long as you need to."
"Good. Then there's something I need to do. Could you help me back into my chair?"
Harry rose and obliged, shocked afresh at how light the Slytherin had become. During the war, he'd had the opportunity to feel Draco's full weight from dragging him from the battlefield. He'd been all muscle then, a solid pack of weight that made it almost impossible to save him. Now, he was little more then skin on bone, lighter then Ginny. He settled the slender man into the chair that carted him around the school. Without a word, he left, floating out.
The long journey down to the dungeons gave Draco plenty of time to think. He steeled himself against the inevitable pain in the upcoming confrontation. He'd handed Severus his heart on a plate for years and he'd learned all to well what it felt like when he gave back that gift. If Draco was honest, and more and more as his days became numbered, he would admit that part of Sev's appeal was his isolating nature. Draco had always had a touch of masochism in him.
The door to theioms oms still responded to his password, so Severus had probably been pacing the halls before barging in on him and Harry, rather then Draco-proofing his life. The thought was oddly reassuring, though he did not allow it to be. With a deep breath he entered. Severus was sitting in his chair, by the fire, a glass of wine in one hand.
"If you've come to apologize, I don't wish to hear it."
"I came to get my things." Draco used the same imperious tone that once had been reserved for insulting muggles.
He didn't wait to see if Sev was going to reply. He went to their bedroom and found his wand. It was his wand arm that remained free of the curse, the most resistant part of his body. That came in handy for a crippled wizard. He shrank his thiand and gestured them into an open sack, then hung the sack from the back of his chair. There was only his clothing here and some of his books. Nothing of his was in the main room. His eyes stung with unshed tears as he realized how little of himself he had maintained, living all these years with a man who would not let him in.
He turned the chair, ready to leave, but unwilling to let go of the damp stone rooms that had been his home for so long. He ran a hand over the side of the bed that he had slept in for his entire adult life. The sheets were black fine cotton that warmed briefly beneath his caress. A part of him wanted to steal something of Sev's, anything at all. Something he wouldn't miss, but would smell like him. He resisted, too proud to stoop to such a pathetic deed. He waited until the stinging of his eyes passed, before heading for the exit.
Sev was still in his chair, his expression the same scowling blankness it always was for his students. There was something in his slump that stopped Draco from leaving in the silence he had planned. Without turning or indicating in any way that he was speaking to anyone but the wall, Draco tried to maintain a reasonable volume.
"I won't sleep with him again, if that's what you're thinking. You won't manipulate me into loving him. I want you, only you. If you ever want me back, then come to me, but this time, I won't come back to you. I am a Malfoy, Severus Snape. No matter how little that means to the outside world any more, it means something to me. I will not beg or plead any more. I will not grovel. I will wait and that is far lower then I should be." He wished he could hear his own words as something other then a dull echo. Not wanting to see Sev's expression, he left. Making his way back up to Harry's quarters, he let the tears he had been holding in fall down his cheeks. The students he passed started at him oddly, but he didn't allow himself the pleasure at snapping at them. It was a habit he had, after all, inherited from Sev.