Divided

Author\'s note: As always, many thanks go out to Alicia & Alexandra my beautifully brilliant beta\'s.



Chapter 8 Invisible



It wasn’t the first time I had done this, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. I just couldn’t help myself. Ever since he got injured, my feelings toward him shifted just ever so slightly. That afternoon I felt so at peace being able to watch him openly while he slept, completely unaware of my presence. He was beautiful and angelic when he slept. I had almost forgotten.



That night I tried to sleep but failed miserably. Draco was still in the hospital wing, and I was tossing and turning in a fit of worry over him.



Finding him on the floor, splayed out and broken looking, had done something to my nerves. I remember being completely devoid of breath as I looked at his still form, and prayed to whatever gods I could remember that he was okay. He had a pulse, but it was faint.



It was always amusing to me that in emergencies I sometimes I forget that I was a wizard. I didn’t bother with healing spells or levitation charms; I just clutched his still body to me and carried him to the hospital wing.



Hermione tried to take him from me the minute I walked through the door but I refused. I carried him over to the bed and gently sat him down, smoothing his potion soaked hair away from his face.



Hermione came up beside me and started pulling at his clothing. “Harry, a little help here?”



I looked at her in dismay. “What are you doing?”



“We have to get these clothes off of him and clean him up. Who knows what was in that potion, it could hurt him,” she said gruffly.



Against my better judgment I moved to assist. Hermione was ripping his shirt from his body and I slowly undid his pants, sliding them down his thin pale legs. Hermione glared at me harshly when I tried to leave his boxers on. “Really, Harry. It’s not as though you haven’t seen him nude.”



“That was ten fucking years ago, Hermione. Don’t you think he might protest this a bit? It seems… wrong,” I whispered.



“Actually, I think he wouldn’t mind one bit,” she replied with a smug grin.



I rolled my eyes and finished stripping him. With the last article of clothing off he was pale and lovely, hints of color reflected off his skin in the light through the windows. All the sharp edges of the seventeen-year-old Draco I remembered were softened, revealing a toned and smooth physique, only the scars on his chest stood out in stark relief against his creamy flesh.



I winced when I saw the scars; reliving the night I gave them to him. That was the Draco I fell in love with, the sweet vulnerable boy in the bathroom that night, and I almost killed him. I would never fully forgive myself for the horrible pain I caused him.



Here he was looking pale and vulnerable again and I just wanted to hold him to me, keep him safe. As much as I denied it to myself, I was still in love with the boy. Could I still be in love with the man?



“Harry, I need you to bathe him while I run his clothing to the Ministry to see if there is anything I should be worried about. That potion could have after effects that could affect his recovery,” Hermione said hurriedly, bustling from the room.



“But… what if he wakes up?” I called after her.



She just shot me an exasperated look. “Just make sure he stays here, I won’t be but a moment,” she replied tersely and then left.



I sighed and levitated Draco to the back room.



One side of the room consisted of restroom stalls and sinks; the other side was a large tub, similar to the one in the prefect’s bathroom. I levitated his pale naked form over to the bath, but hovered over it. The angle was wrong to just let him fall into the water without going under.



I walked over and lifted him from the air then gently carried him to the edge of the water. Suddenly I wished Draco were conscious. Even though I would have to endure a barrage of teasing, it would be better than trying to navigate an unconscious man into the water and bathe him without getting soaking wet myself.



I placed Draco down gently on the top step of the tub and stripped down. It would just be easier that way; at least that was what I told myself. I would have hell to pay if he woke up in the middle of all of it, but I would just have to take that chance. He was sick and he needed my help.



I stepped into the warm water and pulled Draco over to me. His body was light and flexible in the water, and I was able to wash him easily enough. I started with his hair, making sure it was as clean and immaculate as a Malfoy would insist upon.



I moved to his face, wiping all traces of offending liquid from his thick blonde eyelashes, and taking particular care with removing it from his soft pink lips. I sighed and held him just a little bit closer. He looked so peaceful; I wondered what he dreamed of.



I took my time washing his body, trying not to spend too much time in any particular area. If he ever found out that I hand bathed him while he was unconscious, there would be hell to pay from him later. It wasn’t my place anymore to see him like this… to feel him like this.



He shifted a little in my arms and I panicked, thinking he was waking up. I carried him out of the pool, but as I reached the top step, he pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my neck. He leaned in and kissed cheek and mumbled in my ear. “I love you… Harry I love you.”



A choked sob escaped my lips and I felt my legs nearly give way below me. He was still asleep. Talking in his sleep, dreaming… about me. Even in his dreams he kept up the charade.



Though even I knew that wasn’t possible... It had to be true for his mind to project it into his dreams.



I grabbed a couple of towels from the nearby rack and placed one covering Draco, and the other I wrapped as well as I could around myself, before heading out into the main wing. I placed him gently on the bed and covered him with the soft downy blankets, smoothing them into place around him and effectively tucking him in.



It felt like the old times, when I would come back from detention and find him asleep by the fireplace. I would always put him to bed and kiss him goodnight, though back then I would climb into bed beside him. I hesitated, wanting to do the same, wanting to snuggle up with him in the narrow hospital bed.



Instead, I went back into the bathroom and dressed. Maybe when he woke up we could talk… really talk.



I slept the night away in the chair beside him and Hermione never woke me. Draco’s student came in after breakfast and told me it was all his fault and that he felt dreadful, so despite Hermione’s protests, I had him stay with me until Draco woke up.



It was all going well, Malfoy woke up ornery as ever, scared poor little Jenks nearly to death, and we were able to have a civil conversation. Then I had to go and botch it all up by touching his scars.



He made a pained face at me when I commented on them. He was obviously still harboring some bitter resentment toward me because of them, and I couldn’t blame him, the scars were such a blemish on his otherwise glorious flesh.



The combination of guilt from inflicting the scars in the first place, and the heated rush I felt at touching him when he was actually awake to feel it, drove me from the room in a hurry.



I wasn’t ready to go down that road yet. I wasn’t ready to put my heart in his hands and try again. I couldn’t withstand the heartbreak a second time.



So I left.



I ignored the confused look on Draco’s face, and I ignored Hermione calling after me, I just ran.



That night I couldn’t sleep. I thought it was because he was still in the hospital wing and I was subconsciously worried about him. So I slipped on my invisibility cloak and walked down to where Draco slept.



As soon as I made it to his bedside, a calming peace rode over me. There was something soothing about watching Draco sleep. He didn’t toss and turn in his sleep like I did, but he talked a lot.



Sometimes it was about his father or his mother, and sometimes it was about classes or the students, but mostly it was about me. He would talk to me like I was sitting beside him. It was a little unnerving because I couldn’t always tell if he was still awake, and often I would find myself answering him, and we would be having a lovely little conversation in his dreams.



“Harry?” he would ask.



“Yes, Draco,” I would reply.



“Do you still love me?” He would ask, softly, his voice still thick with sleep.



“I’ll always love you, Draco,” I would admit to his sleeping self.



“I want to be with you, Harry,” he would whine.



“I want that, too. Maybe one day… maybe one day I can forget the past,” I would chuckle.



“Forgive me,” he would beg.



“I’ll try,” I promised.



I got no sleep that night, listening to the heartfelt things he would say to me. I didn’t sleep for many nights after that either, because even when he was released from the hospital wing the following day, I found myself sneaking into his quarters to watch him sleep.



I couldn’t come up with an excuse other than I loved being with him, but when he was awake, he mucked it all up. It wasn’t a fair assessment, because honestly I mucked it up at least half the time, but still…



It had been a solid week of these sleepless nights that led me to make the biggest mistake I could make. I was so exhausted, not even making any sense to myself, and he was so beautiful, so pale and peaceful. His platinum hair splayed out across the pillow, and his lips were soft and slightly parted, practically begging me to take them.



So I did.



I kissed him. I had no excuses for it aside from my fatigue and the fact that I wanted to. I wanted him in the worst way. So lifted up the cloak and I kissed him.



It wasn’t much at first, just his sweet breath mingling with mine, the soft caress of lips. When I let my tongue slide along his bottom lip I felt his entire body shiver in reaction.



Then he was kissing me back.



I was too enthralled to think anything of it, and I wanted him so badly. Tongues clashed as his sought entry and I gave way, his sweet breath filled my mouth and his taste coated my tongue. I lost all coherent thought as he latched onto my bottom lip and sucked at it.



Draco was like a drug, and I was quickly losing myself to the sensations of him. He gave a whimpered moan against my mouth as I kissed him deeper, relishing in the familiar little noises he made. I poured all of my emotions into the lips pressed against my own, into the kiss, into the passionate embrace.



In return I was being devoured, every inch of naked flesh was being molded against my body, only my own clothes keeping me from going any further with the Slytherin. My Slytherin.



For in that moment he was mine. No matter what happened later, for a brief second he was mine to hold, to kiss, and to love.



A moment later Draco’s eyes flared open and he tore his face away from mine. Gasping for breath he tried to sit up, pushing me slightly away. “Harry?” he whispered.



I panicked.



I threw the cloak back over myself and retreated as quickly as I could for the door. I was caught before I reached it, and turned to find Draco’s pale figure wrapped around me, holding me in place, keeping me from fleeing.



“Damn you, Harry. You’re not going to invade my space, violate my trust and then run away!” He twisted me in his arms and flung me toward the bed, dragging the cloak from me in the process.



He hovered over me, eyes narrowing maliciously, and didn’t even look remotely flustered by the fact that he was still nude. I had nothing to say for myself, no excuses I could give.



“What exactly do you have to say for yourself?” he growled.



“I’m sorry… I… couldn’t stop myself,” I stammered. The lack of sleep started catching up with me and I fell back against the bed. He caught me under my arms before I slipped completely down and pulled me to sit on the mattress, leaning against the bedpost.



“Harry, you’re a mess. How many times have you done this?” Draco asked.



I looked sheepishly at the ground.



“How many nights, Harry?” he asked again, slightly more agitated.



“All of them,” I whispered finally, still not meeting his eyes.



“And were you ever going to tell me about your little voyeurism issue?” he asked smugly.



I said nothing.



“Harry, look at me.” I did. “I want you back, Merlin knows I want it more than anything… but not like this. I don’t want to be watched while I’m sleeping, unless I know you’re there. I don’t want to have to watch you from a distance all the time, and I want to be able to talk to you.”



He took a few steps closer so that his legs were against mine, effectively pinning me to the bed. “I love you Harry, but I deserve to be treated better.”



I nodded deftly.



He leaned in and kissed me, softly and sweetly on the lips, running his silky fingers through my hair. I melted into his lips, letting him plunder my mouth with his tongue and then he pulled me sharply by the hair and looked into my eyes. His were a liquid pewter and angry, but behind the anger was lust.



He finally released me and stepped back, pointing at the door. “Now… go.”



I looked up at him slightly dumbfounded, but stood on shaking legs and headed for the door. I was almost through it when I remembered something. “Er… Draco… what about my cloak?”



He gripped it tighter to his chest and scowled at me. “Go!” he said one last time, and I went. I hurried up to my own quarters as fast as my legs would take me, and collapsed onto my own bed.



I still couldn’t sleep.



Authors Note: Please review. I would hate to see a squished faerie. That\'s what happens to them when you don\'t review. It\'s sort of like spontanious combustion, but its spontanious squishing. It\'s not pretty.