The Boy Who Lived

Operation Triple-F

After he'd got Teddy to bed, and as Draco carried out his research upstairs, Harry sat in his semi-dark kitchen, nursing a Firewhiskey and feeling thoroughly depressed about the turn his life had taken during the past week.

How was he supposed to take all this 'Lord' crap and this apparently huge hall he'd inherited which he didn't want? He needed to decide how to handle all that.

How was he supposed to trust Ron with his bestfriend's heart?

And then there was Draco, who tumbled back into his life and now lived under his roof and he knew he was utterly infatuated with him. Again. And there was obviously unfinished business there with what he now fully realised was his bloody school crush which he didn't know how to move on from.

And then there was all this ongoing shit with Justin Finch-Fletchley and his bloody nonsense.

And now Madame Gide and poor Pansy.

He wondered why life was never simple.

He wasn't sure what he should do about any of it beyond backing off on the Draco bit and just take the rest as it comes.

That didn't last long...

It was another nightmare night...

Draco shivered in Harry's arms as he recounted being back in the Room of Requirement, but it was he who was on the broom and he couldn't get to Harry, he kept trying and trying, but the heat was overwhelming and the smoke was stinging his eyes and making it hard to breath, and all he could see was Harry's outstretched hand, reaching towards him, calling him closer. And eventually he caught hold of Harry's hand, but then he started to slip, the heat was making them sweat. And then Harry fell into the flames.

Draco sobbed into Harry's shoulder.

'I wanted to save you, I wanted to hold onto to you forever,' he mumbled into Harry's skin as they lay together in Draco's bed.

'We're okay,' Harry whispered reassuringly. 'I'm here, I've got you. We've got each other.'

'Thank you, Harry.'

Harry could feel Draco's breathing deepening again, he knew sleep was coming back to the blond man. He kept carding his fingers through Draco's short hair, knowing by now that it soothed him.

Then he froze.

Draco had turned his head slightly into Harry's shoulder and kissed his collarbone, before resting his head on Harry again and falling asleep. The act was entirely unconscious, much as Harry's kiss had been the first night he had comforted Draco, but that simple gesture meant the world. Harry smiled to himself contentedly, relaxed, and fell asleep with his arms around Draco.

The following morning saw a repeat of Harry quietly slipping away and going on yet another a long run, the twelve miles fell away beneath his feet as he tried to clear his mind of Draco and think about the case, as he tried to rid himself of the feeling of Draco's body against his and concern his thoughts with those of Triple-F and what the bloody hell he was going to do next. He nearly managed it. The rain helped, as usual, washing away his concerns and allowing him the freedom to think. But then he stepped in through the front door and Draco was waiting for him with a towel again. He nearly groaned, how the fuck was he supposed to deal with this? It wasn't as though he wanted to throw Draco out, not that he would anyway, but it really didn't do to go jumping one's house guests and he didn't know how much longer he could control his unruly magic before something bad happened.

It didn't stop him from stripping off under the towel in front of Draco, neither did he pull away when Draco accidently brushed his arm with his fingers, again. He just went and showered and came back downstairs and cooked pancakes for breakfast as if it was part of everyday life for the house to collapse around them because the two men were within touching distance.