Hearts Open (at the Close)

V.
“Draco… Draco, wake up.”

“Hmm?” Draco mumbled, jolting up and blinking rapidly. He’d been having the most amazing dream… he was a Healer, and everyone respected him. He was making the world a better place. He was actually helping people.

But it was just a dream.

“I had a bad dream.”

“You did?” Draco usually woke up when Harry was dreaming. The vibration of magic throughout the house usually made it too uncomfortable to sleep. That was even more true once Harry had started sleeping in Draco’s bed regularly.

Harry nodded. His eyes were the only things Draco could really see, a beam of moonlight streaking across them, making him ethereal and strange. But then he shifted, and the beam fell against the wall instead.

“Tell me about it,” Draco said. As much as he might have wished that more sleep was on the offing, it was important for Harry to talk about his dreams as much as possible, and when they were still fresh in his mind. If anything in there could be described as fresh.

“It was about you.” Harry smiled in a shy way that Draco knew would have been contrived on any other person, but on Harry was wholly genuine.

Draco nodded for him to go on, shifting onto his side so they were facing one another.

“We were married. And I don’t care that blokes can’t get married, we were. And you were telling me it was amazing for my face to be the last thing you saw before you went to bed, and the first thing when you woke up, because it meant that you always had dreams about me. And I told you that I always dreamt about you, even when we were apart, and that was true. You weren’t really you because I know you don’t dream about me, but I was really me and it was a really good dream. I didn’t want to wake up.”

“Let me go,” Draco said suddenly. “Please, Harry, you have to let me go. This is so unhealthy. You think we’re together but we’re not. We can’t be. Not like this.”

Harry leaned forward and kissed Draco. “I can’t let you go. You know that.”

Draco gave an empty sob and tried to turn his face to hide it in the pillow. He felt Harry move closer until he was able to pull Draco into his arms. Holding him securely, Harry rocked them both like children.

“I want to go home,” Draco whispered. The circle of Harry’s arms was comforting, for all that he was Draco’s captor. Harry’s hand smoothed over his back, and he was placing gentle kisses on Draco’s hair.

“This is your home now,” Harry said firmly. He tilted Draco’s head up so their eyes met. “You belong with me.”

You belong to me. He might as well have said that.

Then Harry kissed him again, and it was soft and sweet. Draco, desperate for any kind of reassurance, even from Harry, kissed back for the first time. There had been many instances of such kisses from Harry, mostly to interrupt Draco from a rant or to avoid talking about things he didn’t understand or couldn’t explain. But this was the first time Draco had ever done more than passively wait for the kiss to end.

He parted his lips and Harry groaned, shifting even closer, pressing the lengths of their bodies together. Harry’s tongue explored Draco’s mouth, making him shiver. When the kiss ended, Harry pulled away, but Draco followed him. A kiss was good. Feeling good was better than feeling bad. If Harry was never going to let him go, well… what else could he really do?

“Yes,” Harry said sibilantly, pushing Draco onto his back and climbing atop him, threading fingers into his hair and holding him still while he ravaged his lips. “Knew you wanted me.”

Confused and lost, Draco didn’t answer, letting the feelings sweep over him. It was good to be held. Even before he’d been taken away from his life, he hadn’t done all that much touching. People tended to avoid him, and he didn’t really date.

Harry’s hands were everywhere, pressing hard against his skin, making Draco arch up into the near-painful touches.

“Turn over,” Harry directed, moving to give Draco enough space. He wanted to protest—Malfoys didn’t bottom. But he didn’t make a noise except to gasp as Harry yanked on his shoulder and forced Draco to move.

“So beautiful,” Harry whispered, sitting on Draco’s arse and running reverent fingers down his back. His hands rested at the swell of Draco’s behind, thumbs pressing into the dimples Draco knew were there.

A strange, cold sensation tickled his entire body, magic tingling his skin. He realised his clothing—and Harry’s—was melting off. It slid to the floor and rearranged itself into recognizable pieces of cloth. Draco’s eyes widened at the sheer power such a display warranted, but then Harry was spreading Draco’s legs and moving between them.

“I’ve thought about it for so long,” Harry said in a low voice. His hands kneaded Draco’s arse, and Draco squirmed, his cock pressing into the sheets and increasing his need.

He groaned as Harry spread his cheeks and cool air stroked over his hole. He tried not to be needy and push up, but his body wasn’t his own. There was magic all over him, swirling over his flesh like a whirlwind, raising goosebumps.

The first touch of Harry’s tongue on his entrance was met with a cry. Losing control was something Draco hated, something he strived to avoid in every facet of his life, but with his hands tightly clenched on the sheets and his mouth parted in a permanent ‘o’, control was so far from his thoughts that it was a mere memory.

Luckily he didn’t have to think about it much longer, because Harry was moving up his body, pressing kisses along his spine and gentle nips on his neck and shoulder. Draco shuddered at the first press of the blunt head of Harry’s cock. When he realised there was no lubrication, he tried to scramble up, but Harry’s magic had him pinned.

“Harry, stop!” he cried as Harry started to increase the pressure. “Don’t you have any fucking lube?”

Harry immediately moved away, and Draco could hear his heavy breathing. “Fuck,” he whispered, and Draco wished he could move enough to glare accusingly at the thoughtless maniac.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. Fingers passed over Draco’s hole, and he grunted in surprised when they became slick. Harry pressed two inside, spreading the cool slickness, stretching Draco with carefully precise movements.

“Enough,” Draco moaned, closing his eyes and he tried to move back into the soft thrusts. “Fuck me. And let me move, you prick.”

“Yeah, I want you to move,” Harry agreed, and Draco was immediately released.

He pulled his knees beneath himself but kept his head pressed to the mattress. When Harry’s cock caressed his hole, this time there was only the perfect stretch of a thick cock, and the amazing fullness that came with it.

“Fuck.” Harry thrust the last inch inside, and Draco shouted as the cock inside him dragged across his prostrate. Trust a Quidditch player to have such good aim.

Harry was an amazing fuck. Much better than he had any right to be, having had no opportunities for experiment since he was committed. And thoughts like that were not wanted because they reminded him of how very wrongwrongwrong this was, his patient’s cock so far up his arse he could taste it.

Draco met every thrust, pushing back until his cheeks were bruised from Harry’s hipbones. When a tight fist wrapped around his cock, he stopped moving altogether. Let Harry use him, please him. He didn’t need to do anything but experience it.

And that’s what he did. The hand worked him expertly, twisting and pressing just the right way until Draco wondered how Harry could possibly concentrate to that extent while simultaneously giving him the arsefucking of his life.

“Can’t hold on,” Harry rasped, adding a blinding, emphasizing squeeze to Draco’s cock. “Come, Draco.”

Harry’s hand moved almost wildly, pulling in a manner almost violent. Draco let the sensation course through him until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He came, and came hard, his back arching like a bow.

When the overwhelming feelings passed, he wanted nothing more than to slump down and make a date with the afterglow, but Harry held him by the hips, or maybe his magic did. Draco couldn’t feel anything but the cock spearing him, claiming him.

Finally, Harry gave a primal cry and stiffened, fingertips digging into Draco’s hips punishingly.

He was kind enough to fall to the side instead on of top of Draco’s prone body, but he immediately pulled Draco against him, arms holding Draco captive as much as the man himself.

“That was epically stupid,” Draco opined, making the most of his post-coital angst.

“Don’t you ever say anything like that again,” Harry said snappishly, tightening his hold. He grabbed a handful of Draco’s hair and pulled it until Draco’s face was angled up toward his. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that.”

Eyes wide, Draco remembered a little too late that Harry was unstable and therefore not the best person to voice regret to. “Or what?” he said foolishly. In for a Sickle, in for a Knut.

Harry’s smile was eerie, but he didn’t say anything, just watched Draco carefully. A long moment passed in which Draco grew more confused, but when he went to voice his question, he realised what Harry had done.

Draco couldn’t speak.

‘Very fucking mature,’ he mouthed angrily. He pulled away from Harry’s arms and sidestepped when Harry went to pull him back onto the bed. Dressing quickly, Draco tossed a glare to Harry before walking to the door.

Which wouldn’t open. Of course. When he turned, Harry was sliding pants up his legs, adjusting himself.

“Listen, Draco. I didn’t want to say anything, but I think I have to. Will you come back to bed?”

Draco tried not to let his increasing fear show on his face. He shook his head, trying to look peevish.

“Okay, that’s all right.” Harry crossed the floor and took one of Draco’s hands. He lifted it and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist. He put his other hand on Draco’s waist and drew him closer. Draco went, but only because of what the repercussions of refusing might be.

“I really care about you, okay? I have for a long time. I mean, yeah, I hated you in school, but I still thought about you. And now I want to help you. But you have to let me.”

Remembering his training—keep the patient talking—Draco nodded slowly.

“I think you’re confused about the situation here. First of all, I’m just as trapped as you are.”

Draco momentarily forgot his metaphorical muzzle and tried to loudly protest. But Harry just smiled a little sadly and squeezed Draco’s wrist gently.

“I know you don’t think so, but it’s true. Like when I had you tied to the bed. I know I wanted it, but I also couldn’t stop it unless it became directly oppositional to something I wanted more. But there’s nothing I want more than you here with me. So that means that you have to be here with me. I won’t insult you and say I’m sorry. I’m happy, Draco, happier than I have been in a long time. I’m not thrilled about the way this whole thing came about, but I don’t want to lose you, and I’m glad I won’t.”

Draco dropped his head. He was almost glad that he couldn’t speak, because there was absolutely nothing left to say. His feelings, his hopes, his dreams, none of that mattered. Harry’s magic made the decision for both of them.

And the decision was for them to stay in this house forever.

*

The wandless silencing spell wasn’t removed for nearly a day. Harry used that day to tell Draco anything and everything. Draco knew all about his childhood, about his godfather, he knew more about Weasley and Granger than he’d care to admit, and he even told Draco about the search for the Horcruxes.

When Harry finally cancelled the spell, Draco told him he was very sorry for the way his life had been, but that Harry wasn’t acting any better than his Muggle relatives, locking Draco in the house like they’d locked Harry in the cupboard.

It hadn’t gone over well.

Harry didn’t seem to mean to hurt him, but his magic lashed out at Draco like a tangible force, making small actions increasingly uncomfortable until the buzzing in his blood and the flood of pain in his mind was excruciating and increasingly unbearable.

Harry even apologised after, saying he wanted to control it, he really did. But that didn’t matter when Draco was so ill that his nose was bleeding and his vision was blurry from the force of Harry’s reactive rage.

The only good that came from Harry’s improving understanding of his power was that he gave Draco more freedom. Not enough to actually leave Grimmauld Place, of course. But enough to go from room to room without Harry following him or tracking him down after a few minutes. Draco also suspected that Harry somehow—magically—knew everything Draco did.

But that didn’t stop him from doing what he did. Or what he tried to do, anyway.

When Harry told Draco it was fine if he used the potions lab in the basement, Draco was thrilled but reserved. He knew better than to let Harry know how much he missed potions; if Harry knew, it was one more thing he could take away.

There weren't many potions that could take a person from one place to another. In fact, there was only one. And it required very specific ingredients—all of which could be found in the extensive and highly questionable Black potions laboratory—but it needed one more element to work.

A fireplace.

Grimmauld Place had scores of these, of course. But none of that would matter if Harry had closed down the Floo. A fireplace could be turned into a Floo, but it took the owner of the house to do it. But if Harry had simply closed down the connection—or better yet, left the connection, assuming the lack of Floo powder was enough—than Draco might have a fighting chance.

It took three days to brew Floo powder from scratch. There was no way to check the fireplace’s status until the powder was tossed in. It was possible that nothing would happen. But he had to take the chance. He’d never forgive himself otherwise, even knowing what Harry—or Harry’s magic, which Draco was beginning to think of as a separate entity—would do if he were discovered.

The problem, of course, was that Harry was always home. Always. He hadn’t left the house once—Draco had no idea where the food and supplies came from. He’d never seen a house-elf, but then they were very good at being discreet. Draco found he really wouldn’t be all that shocked if Harry’s magic conjured food for them.

But Harry did sleep. A lot, actually. Restlessly and sporadically, but enough—Draco hoped—to give him enough time to at least try to make it out.

That evening, Harry fell asleep pressed against Draco’s back, an arm slung possessively over his side. Every now and then he would snuffle and his fingers would tickle against Draco’s belly, but mostly he just snored lightly.

When Draco tried to sneak away from the arm, Harry moved onto his back, pulled Draco with him. No matter—it’d be easier to get out this way. He moved in increments so small he was sure he didn’t appear to be moving at all, but finally he was free of the bed. He made his way to the door in utter silence, pulling it open and slipping through the narrowest crack he could manage.

Once past the worst of it, Draco hurried down the two flights of stairs into the potions lab. The potion was complete; he just had to sift the sparkling silver powder from the base of the potion and into a separate container. Doing so, Draco then weighed the Floo powder in his hand. It seemed to be the right consistency, and it looked as Floo powder should. The only question now was whether Harry’s Floo was open or not.

Merlin help him if it wasn’t.

Draco held the container under a potions apron. If he came across Harry, he might be able to get away in time to flush it down the toilet. The stairs creaked warningly as he made his way up, but Draco heard no sounds other than his own stilted breathing.

The fireplace was huge and very forbidding.

Even if it didn’t work, it was possible that Harry would never find out.

Kneeling before the hearth, Draco dug his fingers into the powder and let a little slip through. He threw the powder into the fireplace, bracing himself for heatless green flames.

There was a roar and a vacuum of air as the fireplace lit up in viridian. Draco forgot to breathe in his excitement. “Malfoy Ma—”

Draco was thrown back as the fireplace seemed to implode. Brick came crashing down, filling the cavern through which had been freedom. Ash and brick dust flooded his lungs, and he shifted to his hands and knees, coughing violently.

He didn’t need to look up. He knew what was awaiting him. But he looked anyway.

“Oh, Draco,” said Harry, disappointment weighty in his voice. He sat heavily on one of the sofas, staring at Draco, who looked back in wide-eyed fear.

The silence stretched between them, Harry never looking away, Draco too afraid to. Finally, Draco said, “I just wanted to go home.”

Harry nodded, looking for all the world as if he understood. He closed his eyes and parted his lips, taking in deep breaths as Draco waited for the magic to punish him.

But nothing happened.

For long moments, Draco just watched as Harry seemed to get smaller and smaller. He pulled his feet onto the cushion and wrapped his arms around his legs, dropping his head onto his knees.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said unaccountably. He really hadn’t meant to hurt Harry. He’d never really thought about the other man’s feelings at all. It hadn’t been important. It still shouldn’t be important, damn it!

Harry sniffled and Draco was sitting beside him on the couch in seconds. “Harry, I know that there isn’t really a place for you to call home, but for me, my entire life is there. Everything I am, everything I’m meant to be is somewhere else. It isn’t right for me to be here.”

“I want to be where you belong,” Harry said into his knees, his voice thick. “I want to be your home. I don’t understand why you want to leave. Everything was going so well! I thought… I thought that you loved me.”

You’re delusional! Draco wanted to shout. Mad!

“I care about you,” he said instead, and it was the truth. He didn’t want Harry permanently damaged, as he would be if he continued down this path. He just wanted Harry to get help—he wanted to help him. “But I can’t love you, not like this. Not without free will.”

“Can’t you even try?”

“Harry…”

And then Harry threw himself at Draco, wrapping his arms around him and gripping him tightly with unforgiving fingers. He pressed his wet face against Draco’s neck, his shoulders shaking. “Please love me. I know you can. I just know it. I love you so much…”

Draco thought he’d been very patient, very understanding, this was getting to be too much. Harry loved him now? Harry was confused and not entirely all there!

But instead of rejecting the claims, Draco slid his arms around Harry—he felt surprisingly fragile like this—and pulled him against his chest. He made soft and comforting noises and carded his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“Don’t leave again,” Harry said imploringly. Draco could barely hear him, the way he was talking into Draco’s neck. “The Floo… I almost didn’t hit it.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked softly, not wanting to disturb the strange peace.

“I mean I was so angry. The anger just came out all at once, and you were right there… at the last second I shifted it into the fireplace… but I almost didn’t.”

And there went the peace.

“You almost killed me?” Draco asked in astonishment. He should have expected such a thing, truly, but it still came as a shock.

“I didn’t want to! I just wanted to stop you!”

Harry began pressing kisses all over Draco’s neck and jaw, hot, desperate little kisses that had touches of tongue and pleading. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding just as confused by the words as Draco had been when he’d said them. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to be with you. You make the green okay. You make it all okay.”

“Really?” he asked softly, pulling Harry away to look at his eyes. They were sincere.

“You’re green and it’s okay,” Harry said. He kissed Draco hard on the mouth. “It’s okay.”

It was a breakthrough of sorts. Harry hated green. There had been no green allowed in his suites at the hospital. His mirror had been charmed to reflect in monochrome. He’d assaulted another Healer once just for the colour of his robes. But Draco wore those robes, and Harry had never minded. Did that mean Harry could get better? Was there hope for him?

“How do you feel when you think of me and green?” he prompted. He let Harry’s mouth explore his for a moment until he asked again.

“Safe.”

“Oh, Harry,” Draco whispered, letting his eyes fall closed. Harry felt safe with him. That was a huge step.

He could be saved.

Draco was so glad at that revelation that he allowed and even encouraged Harry’s movements, gripping the slim hips that ground against him.

“Is that good?” Harry asked, but he had a sly look in his eye that suggested he knew exactly how good it was.

“Very good.” Draco gasped as Harry’s hand slid between them to stroke the strong line of Draco’s cock through his trousers.

“I like being good for you,” Harry whispered against Draco’s lips before kissing him ferociously, biting and sucking and taking.

Draco had barely a finger on the button of Harry’s jeans before, with a flash of wild magic, Harry was completely naked.

“Fuck,” Draco hissed, greedily taking in the sharp angles and tanned flesh squirming on his lap. Forgetting himself and his previously passive role, he pulled Harry close and bit his nipple, eliciting an undignified grunt and a rather impressive arching of Harry’s back.

“Want you to fuck me,” said Harry as he opened Draco’s trousers and pulled his straining cock out.

Draco’s lips stopped moving over Harry’s chest as he took in the words.

“I haven’t…” Draco had, just not with Harry. Everything with Harry felt like a first time. He managed to make every kiss, every caress erase the myriad of others Draco had experienced over his life. Harry made him new again. “Are you sure?”

Harry nodded quickly. “Very sure. Just stay like that, okay? Actually, slouch down a bit.”

Draco let Harry angle him until his position was satisfactory, then watched with wide, wanting eyes as Harry reached behind himself. By the looked of half-pained concentration, Draco knew he was stretching himself.

Part of him wanted to do it for him, to touch Harry where Harry’d touched him so many times, but another part was grateful that he wasn’t made an accomplice. Easier to sit back and take it than become an active partner.

But the time to make up his mind passed, because Draco’s cock, slicked by the ever-helpful magic, was being angled at Harry’s hole.

“Oh, gods,” Draco moaned. It had been a long time since he’d done this. Harry laughed breathlessly in agreement as he sank down.

Harry leaned back and braced his hands against Draco’s knees for leverage, lifting himself up and sliding back down in excruciating slowness. Draco could do nothing but watch as Harry fucked himself on his cock.

“Touch me,” Harry demanded softly, and Draco wished he could blame the magic for how quickly his hand shot out to do Harry’s bidding. From those toned thighs, over his jutting hipbones, over his heaving chest, and even touching his mouth, Draco’s hands explored and learned Harry’s body. He’d never really touched Harry before, nothing more than grabbing and holding on in desperation or need.

Harry’s hips rolled and then slammed, his body moving expertly in a way Draco’d never seen anyone else manage, not even himself. Harry’s body was an instrument of pleasure, and he was just letting Draco play—for the moment.

Finally gripping Harry’s thickening cock—and now he was definitely a participant—Draco stroked in time with Harry’s movements.

“Is it good?” Harry rasped, a sheen of sweat making him glint like sunlight. “Tell me it’s good, Draco.”

“It’s good,” he said quickly. “So fucking good.”

Harry’s lips contorted into a smile before he came, slamming down once more time and crying Draco’s name as his body tightened all over.

It was too much, of course. Draco grabbed Harry’s hips and ground up into him, shouting when he felt Harry clamp over him. Draco was silent as he came, but Harry watched him very carefully, though Draco couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.

“So good,” he groaned, his head falling back against the cushions.

Harry leaned forward and lay against him, mingling their sweat together. He kissed Draco’s neck softly and made a humming noise.

“Don’t run away again,” Harry said, half plea, half warning.

Draco didn’t answer.