Draco's Escort Service

Chapter Seven

Draco woke sometime after dawn, still tired, but the hard edge of weariness had softened to a bearable level. He rose and gathered firewood from a stash near the rear of the hut. A fire was quickly laid and started in the ramshackle fireplace. Draco couldn’t hunt and had no fresh food to prepare, but he made some strong, hot tea and gratefully drank two cups. He ate some dried fruit and cheese and grimaced when a twinge reminded him he had never tended the slash on his arm.

He hated to waste water, but he did not need the wound to get infected. He poured some water onto a cloth and began to wash the gash.

Potter groaned and stirred. After a moment, he sat up and blinked at Draco. He slipped his glasses on and tried again.

“Good morning, honey,” Draco called companionably. Potter flushed scarlet. No question about the clarity of his memory, Draco mused. At least in relation to the kissing incident. Draco frowned. Had Potter really kissed him back, or was his memory already changing with time?

Harry swung his feet off the bed and slid a hand through his hair. Draco swallowed, recalling the silky feel of it. Bloody hell, what was wrong with him?

“The tea is hot,” he commented, and managed a fairly normal tone. Potter padded over and knelt next to Draco, who poured him a cup. Potter sipped it gratefully and wrapped his hands around the cup. Malfoy noticed his cheeks were still tinted with pink. He grinned sardonically and went back to tending his arm.

“I used to be able to heal something like that,” Potter commented. Draco nodded. Harry’s green eyes fixed on him.

“Want me to try it?”

Malfoy met his gaze. He knew Potter’s powers were mostly gone, and healing magic was difficult.

“Knock yourself out,” he said softly.

Potter pulled out his wand and shut his eyes for a moment. Then he took a breath and hovered his wand over the slice on Draco’s arm, which was oozing blood again now that Draco had soaked it. For a long time, nothing happened. Malfoy seriously did not expect it to, but then he felt something, as if a warm compress had been placed over the wound. Draco watched in amazement when it began to knit together.

Harry sagged when it was done and his wand fell away. Malfoy stared at him in surprise. Potter grinned.

“Sometimes it works. Looks like today is a good day,” he said. Malfoy looked at the wound. It was jagged and raw-looking, but closed. Malfoy raised a brow at Potter, impressed. Harry’s eyes met his, glinting happily, and Draco suddenly felt like kissing him again. He stood abruptly, disturbed by the thought.

“Eat something and we’ll get moving. I want to get out of this damned fairy forest as soon as possible.”

Draco quickly dragged on a shirt. He stowed his pack while Harry ate and soon they were shouldering their way through the forest, brooms in hand.

ooOoo

Harry followed Malfoy and tried not to notice how graceful the Slytherin was; Draco barely stirred a leaf when he walked and he stepped over fallen logs and skirted brambles like a creature born in the forest. Harry felt slow and somewhat clumsy tripping along in his footsteps.

Malfoy slowed and looked back often to check on Harry’s progress. Something had profoundly changed between them. Harry found it hard to believe one stupid kiss could cause a complete shift in behavior, but he supposed it had been more than that. Malfoy had saved Harry’s life—saved his soul. That wasn’t something Harry could take lightly, but he had rather expected Malfoy to shrug it off.

If only Harry’s mind would stop backtracking to the kiss. A dozen times, the question sprang to his lips to ask why Draco had felt it necessary to kiss him like that, but he didn’t want to hear Malfoy’s flippant response. What did he want to hear? That Malfoy had kissed him because he wanted to? Because he couldn’t resist?

Harry cursed himself and tried to concentrate on his ultimate goal. He just needed to get out of this ridiculous forest, find the Horcrux, and put Malfoy behind him forever.

Draco pushed them relentlessly until after midday when he finally halted abruptly. Harry ran into him. They both went down in an unexpected tangle of limbs. Harry sprawled atop Draco and their faces were inches apart. Their breath mingled for a moment and Harry found himself marveling at the color of Draco’s eyes in the daylight—like the bright edge of a storm cloud touched by the sun.

A grin quirked Malfoy’s lips.

“As much as I might be enjoying this, Potter, we should probably continue on.”

Harry blushed scarlet and quickly pushed himself to his feet.

“You’re the one who stopped,” he muttered. Damned Malfoy. As much as I might be enjoying this. God.

“True,” Draco said as he climbed to his feet and brushed himself off. Harry reached out and removed a leaf that clung to Malfoy’s hair. Draco froze at his touch for a moment, eyes wide, until Harry held up the offending object. Malfoy’s silver gaze slid away. “Thanks. I wanted to test something.”

He barked a command and his broom suddenly hovered in midair. Malfoy looked at Harry and smiled in genuine pleasure. Harry laughed, so glad he could have hugged Draco.

“We can fly again!”

“And eat,” Draco added. “We can hunt now that we’re out of the fairy forest.”

“Forget it,” Harry said flatly. “No more forest food for me. Isn’t there a Muggle town nearby? I want real food. I’m starved.”

“You plan to walk into a Muggle town carrying two brooms and a sword?” Draco asked dubiously.

Harry smiled.

“Trust me.”