Title: No Exit - Part 2/2
For the next three days, Malfoy avoided Harry completely. For Harry, they were three very long days, days of boredom and food and baths and boredom and wanking and more food and more wanking and boredom and more boredom and a bit of tedium thrown in for good measure.
Then on the fourth morning, something alarming happened. He’d been having a dream – involving himself with Ginny and Malfoy and a very large steak and kidney pie – that had just been getting really good when something woke him up. He half opened his eyes, wondering what was up, then noticed something dark on the pillow beside him.
He was suddenly wide awake. He backed softly away from it, sliding out from under the covers and lowering himself to his knees on the floor. He groped around for his glasses, managing to put them on without taking his eyes off the thing that had woken him up.
It was a box, long, thin and black. The surface looked like leather. Harry stared at it for a long moment, then took a corner of the sheet in his hand and undid the small brass clip. Nothing happened. With the sheet still protecting his skin (he had no desire to be Portkey-ed unawares ever again), he gingerly opened the lid.
Inside, the box was lined with blue velvet; on its folds lay a dagger. The slender blade had the white glow of silver about it, and it was riveted into a handle of plain, dark wood. Harry blinked. There was a small piece of parchment lodged in the lid. He reached for it and turned it over in his hands. Printed in bold script were the words, ‘JUST IN CASE’.
Harry was still turning the scrap of parchment over in his hands, lost in thought, when there was a knock at his door. He scrambled to his feet, alarmed. If that knife could arrive here unannounced, what – or who – else might pop by? His jeans were right beside him, discarded onto the floor the night before. He pulled them on, his right foot getting stuck in the grubby underpants that had made their way down inside the leg. His foot finally pushed the pants out onto the ground and Harry pulled the jeans up over his hips and zipped them up, carefully avoiding snagging any of his pubes on the way.
The knock sounded again.
“Potter, what on earth are you doing in there?”
Part of the tension drained from Harry as he recognised the cut glass whine on the other side of the door.
“Keep your hair on, Malfoy.”
He opened the door to see Malfoy in a wrinkled robe, his hair a complete mess, pouting.
“What’s going on?”
Malfoy pursed his lips, as if he wanted to stop the words from exiting his mouth.
“There’s something I need you to take a look at.”
“What, Malfoy, you want a favour from me?”
Malfoy scowled so hard his chin went all crinkled, but he didn’t say anything.
Harry crossed his arms over his bare chest and leant against the doorjamb.
“Aren’t you going to ask nicely, then?”
Malfoy went very red in the cheeks and white in the lips and clenched his fists until his knuckles became almost blue.
“You fucking bastard. This is serious! I could just go and hide in my room and not do anything and then where would you be when the moon rises tonight, you Muggle-loving scum? But no, I’ve come to show you what’s happening, so you can stay alive, and you want me to ask nicely. Well fuck you.”
Malfoy had been almost shaking during his outburst, and Harry was sure his eyes had begun to get watery. Now the other boy turned on his heel and stalked across the central room, shoulders hunched. Harry strode after him and laid a hand on his shoulder just as he reached his door. Malfoy shook him off but stood still.
“Look, Malfoy, I’m here now. What did you want to show me?”
Malfoy looked at Harry over his shoulder. His eyes were definitely pink around the rims, and he gave a surreptitious sniffle before pushing open his door.
“See for yourself.”
At first, the room looked more or less as it had when Harry had last seen it. Then he noticed two big differences. The first was a steaming goblet on the bedside table. The second was an arrangement of metal chains and what looked like some kind of leather straps at the head of the bed.
“That looks like Wolfsbane potion,” he said, pointing at the goblet.
Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed a little.
“Thank God for that.”
Malfoy walked across to the table, picked up the goblet and gulped it down. Harry was surprised that he hadn’t known what it was, but then the Werewolves on the Death Eater side probably never took any.
“I’ll leave you to it then, shall I?”
Malfoy brought the goblet down from his mouth and looked into its bowl as if hoping to find something hidden at the bottom of the potion. He carried on looking into it as he spoke.
“Actually, Potter, I need your help.”
Malfoy rocked the goblet to and fro between his hands and bit his lower lip. His cheeks grew rosy.
“Yes, Potter, help.” His tone became acerbic. “I’ve never tried being chained to a bed before, but I imagine it’s a little hard to achieve all by myself.”
“Chained to a… What?”
Harry felt his own face heating up. Malfoy finally put the goblet down and looked up, his cheeks a flaming red.
“Well, I’m assuming these chains are a safeguard, just in case the potion doesn’t work for some reason. You know, to stop me killing you?”
Just in case.
Harry and Malfoy stood there in silence, both looking at the chains and straps on the bed. Then Harry had a thought.
“Well, er, we don’t have to do it yet, do we?”
Malfoy turned his gaze from the bed to Harry, brow furrowed slightly as if in thought. Then his eyes brightened a little.
“No, I suppose not.” He gave a nervous laugh. “We can… we can do it when it starts getting dark outside, can’t we?”
Harry nodded. He suddenly felt very awkward and extremely aware that he was half-naked. Malfoy gave another nervous laugh, and Harry turned and walked, stiff-backed, from the room.
Seven hours later, Harry found himself once again in Malfoy’s room. At this precise moment, he was admiring the powder-blue wallpaper, the eggshell blue curtains still open around the darkening window, the midnight blue carpet – looking, in fact, anywhere but at Malfoy or his bed.
Harry looked up, drawing his gaze reluctantly over the folds of Malfoy’s black robe until he reached the neckline. Looking at Malfoy’s face felt too… too intimate? Too raw? Too much, at any rate. Harry nodded to indicate Malfoy should go on. Malfoy coughed again and picked the chains up in one hand and the straps in the other.
“So, I’ve, erm, had a look at the, erm, devices, and I’m pretty sure these are for my hands,” he held up the chains, two of which, Harry saw, had shackles on the ends, “but I’m not sure what these are for.”
Malfoy held the straps up and Harry looked at them.
Harry held out his hand and Malfoy passed the straps over to him. Harry inspected them closely. There were four straps, joined together by stitching, metal rings and buckles. He turned the whole thing over in his hands.
“Well, I think you’re supposed to put it on, somehow.”
Malfoy snatched the device back off him.
“I had worked that much out for myself, thank you very much.”
Harry looked at the bed and tried to think through the logistics of chaining Malfoy to it – the thought still made his cheeks warm – and what would happen when he turned into a wolf. He’d always been much better at doing than at planning. There certainly wasn’t any point standing here dithering. He looked up at Malfoy.
“Well let’s start with the chains and see if we can work out what to do with that other thing after.”
Malfoy’s face pinked, but he nodded, then dropped the chains and straps to the floor and started to take off his robe. Harry took an involuntary breath.
“What are you doing?”
Malfoy’s head popped back up through the neck of his robe.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Taking your robe off.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
“Perhaps I don’t want to wake up with my only robe ripped to shreds?”
Malfoy’s tone was patronising. Harry felt his temper rising, but then he noticed Malfoy’s fingers trembling where they were gripping the fabric of his robe, and just nodded. Malfoy took his robe off and folded it carefully, bending to lay it on the floor next to the bed. Harry sniggered.
“Nice nightie, Malfoy.”
Malfoy looked down at himself and up at Harry, looking confused. He was wearing a long white shift with sleeves that covered his arms down to the elbow.
“What are you talking about?”
Harry bit his tongue to get his laughter under control.
Malfoy took off his under-robe as well, turning away as he pulled it over his head. Harry was treated to a view of his back – not quite as scarred as his chest – and his long, pale legs. Malfoy bent again to place his folded underwear on top of his robe, and Harry had a strong desire to bite Malfoy’s arse through his briefs; probably not a good idea just at the moment, he thought. Then Malfoy pulled his briefs down, stepped delicately out of them and bent over to place them carefully with his other clothes. Harry couldn’t stop his mouth moving open at the sight of Malfoy’s arse-crack and the briefest flash of the pucker within. He closed it just in time to stop a trail of saliva making its way down his chin.
Malfoy half turned towards Harry, both hands over his groin, skin a deep pink from his nipples to the roots of his hair. Harry stifled a needy sound. It emerged instead as a kind of purr, vibrating deep in his chest.
The sight of Malfoy trying to look dignified while hiding his cock was having a profound effect on Harry’s own, but he restrained himself, shivering as he remembered that they needed to get this done before the moon rose. Malfoy was just standing there, as if unsure what to do next.
“Up on the bed, then.”
Harry cringed at the false jollity in his voice – God, he sounded like Madam Pomfrey – but Malfoy obeyed just the same. He turned his back on Harry again, climbed onto the bare mattress and lay on his front, holding his hands up above his head. Harry picked the chains and shackles up off the floor and knelt on the bed next to Malfoy’s head. Malfoy flinched.
“Oh for God’s sake, I’m just attaching the chains to the bed.”
Malfoy relaxed again and Harry finally got the chains untangled and wrapped around the bedstead. There were four lengths of chain, two of which had shackles on the ends, all joined together by a large metal ring. Harry looked at it and at the bedstead for a moment, then looped the chains over and under the top rung of the bedstead and through the metal ring. They clanked and jangled and for a brief moment Harry remembered Bellatrix Lestrange’s face. He shook his head and returned to the job at hand, tugging on the chains. All secure. He got down from the mattress and draped the chains over the side of the bed.
“I’m going to put the, er, bands over your wrists, Malfoy.”
For some reason, Harry couldn’t bring himself to use the word ‘shackles’, although that was exactly what they were. He unpinned one of them and put it around Malfoy’s left wrist, put the pin back in place and bent it shut, then did the same with the other one around his left wrist. Malfoy hadn’t moved or made a sound since getting on the bed, but when the second shackle was in place, he propped himself up on his elbows, bringing his wrists together and examining them. Harry tried to forget that any of Malfoy existed below his shoulders.
Harry’s voice sounded worried. He hoped the shackles weren’t hurting Malfoy already.
“They just… oh, they’ve stopped now.”
Malfoy carried on examining the shackles and gave an experimental pull on the chains. It looked to Harry as though he’d be able to get his hands down to his chest but no further.
“Eh?” Malfoy looked up at Harry as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh, they just shrank to fit my wrists, that’s all. Like I said, they’ve stopped now. They’re quite comfy actually.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“I’m so pleased.”
Harry bent to the floor and picked up the strap thing and down at Malfoy. Where on earth was this thing supposed to go?
“Turn over, Malfoy.”
Malfoy was still resting on his elbows and looked up at Harry now, eyes wide.
“What d’you mean, ‘what’? Turn over. I can’t work this bloody strap thing out on my own. You’ll have to take a look at it, too.”
“I can see it perfectly well from here, thank you.”
Malfoy’s face went pink again and he looked down at his hands. What on earth was the matter with him? It was almost as if he was…
“You’re not being coy about me seeing your cock, are you? For God’s sake, Malfoy, I’ve had my hand around it. I need you to co-operate here. Or do you want to wake up tomorrow and find you’ve eaten half my leg?”
Malfoy stared up at him with a look that had steel daggers in it.
He spat the words at Harry and began to roll over, lifting his arms when the chains started to wrap themselves around him. He didn’t look up at Harry even when he was fully on his back, but Harry hardly noticed because his attention was taken up by the bobbing pink erection at Malfoy’s groin. Before he could think, he’d reached out his right hand and squeezed it.
Malfoy tried to bring his hands down, no doubt to push Harry away, but, as Harry had suspected, he couldn’t get them any further down than his chest. He made a growling sound and tried to move his hips to the side of the bed, but Harry moved with him, climbing onto the bed to keep his grip, and began to move his hand up and down.
“You don’t really mean that, do you, Malfoy?”
Harry’s voice was quiet and smooth. He didn’t sound like himself, but he didn’t care. Malfoy’s erection felt like hot silk under his fingers and Harry’s own cock felt like it was about to break through the zip on his jeans. Malfoy closed his eyes and started making whining noises through his open mouth. Harry bent down and licked the top of Malfoy’s cock, rewarded by a jerk of his hips.
“I thought not.”
Harry pressed his left hand against his groin, undid the button at his waist and started to unzip his flies. As he pulled his own cock free of his pants, he licked his lips and sealed them over the slit of Malfoy’s cock, then slid his mouth slowly down to meet his fingers, the skin stretching even tauter over the throbbing flesh under his tongue.
He began to suck, moving his hand in opposition to his mouth, and heard rattling and a panting sound. The idea of Malfoy trying and failing to break free of his chains, helpless beneath his mouth, sent a tingling rush through Harry’s gut. He started pulling at his own hard on and inched his mouth further down Malfoy’s cock, rippling his tongue against it. The thick, sweaty smell of Malfoy’s groin made his pulse race.
Malfoy was making little moaning cries and pushing his hips forward in a regular rhythm. Harry looked up through his fringe. Malfoy, his skin almost red, had his head thrown back and his eyes closed. He was pinching and tweaking at his own nipples. Harry felt another surge of desire and moaned around the hot weight in his mouth. He gripped the base of Malfoy’s shaft, covered his teeth with his lips and began bobbing his head up and down as fast as he could.
He himself was making grunting sounds now as he breathed in and out through his nose. His jaw and the hand on his own cock were aching. Then, with a growl from Malfoy, Harry felt a pulsing in his mouth. He shifted his head so he could catch Malfoy’s come on his tongue, then slid his lips up his cock, sealing them at the top so as not to lose any.
Harry spat into his right hand and wrapped his come-coated palm around his cock. He looked down at Malfoy. His skin was still red and he was panting hard, but he looked oddly peaceful, face slack, hands resting on his chest and watching Harry through his eyelashes. Harry was so nearly there. He knelt up and then stood on the mattress, feet either side of Malfoy’s body below him. Malfoy’s eyes opened further, staying fixed on Harry’s hand as it moved.
“Want to come on your face.”
Malfoy closed his eyes and groaned. Harry took this as agreement and sank to his knees to straddle Malfoy’s chest, pinning his arms at his sides. Malfoy’s breathing was speeding up again – Harry could feel it, cool against his wet cock, his cock wet with Malfoy’s come. His balls tightened, that thought and the sight of Malfoy trapped and helpless and willing beneath him pushing him over into orgasm.
It was hard, keeping his eyes open, but it was worth it for the rush of seeing his come pulsing out two, three, four times over Malfoy’s rosy cheeks and his lips and his eyelids.
Harry felt suddenly weak, and put out a hand to steady himself against the wall. He looked down at Malfoy; his tongue, small and pink and shining, was licking up all of Harry’s come that it could reach. A shudder ran through Harry as he watched.
“You okay there?”
His voice sounded shaky. Malfoy opened his eyes, the movement making the come on his eyelids shift and dribble down over his temples and into his hair. He nodded. Harry, not quite sure what to do, got to his feet, tucked his limp cock back inside his pants and got off the bed. Looking down at himself, he did up his flies.
“Erm, do you want me to get you a cloth or something, for your…”
Harry looked at Malfoy for his response. He’d expected some kind of cutting remark, but Malfoy just looked away and nodded again. Harry stood there for a moment longer, then turned his back on the bed and headed to the bathroom.
Harry woke with a start – again. It was the third time since he’d settled onto the sofa the night before. After he’d brought Malfoy a cloth and he’d cleaned himself up, they’d worked out between them, with much embarrassment, what to do with the thing made of leather straps. It had turned out to be a harness that went over Malfoy’s chest and back, attaching at his sides to the two remaining chains.
Harry had found it very difficult to resist touching Malfoy again. He looked so tempting, chained and bound like that, but the restraints were also a reminder of exactly why Harry needed to leave, and so he had.
Back in his own room, he’d struggled with his conscience over whether or not to tell Malfoy about the knife and the message. In the end, Harry’d decided that, as bad as he might feel about it, his own survival came first. If everything went okay, he wouldn’t need to use it and Malfoy need never know, but if everything went pear-shaped, he needed to keep the advantage of surprise. He’d taken a blanket from his room, along with the black box, and settled himself on the sofa, which he’d moved to face Malfoy’s door, and waited.
At some point he must have dropped off, because the next thing he knew there was the most awful sound coming from Malfoy’s room. He pushed his glasses up his nose and took the knife out of the box that still sat beside him. The sound was a mixture of growling and whimpering. It was followed by a series of cracking sounds and a scream that made all the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stand up. He pushed the blanket aside and leapt to his feet, knife in hand, tensed and ready to defend himself as the scream went on.
When it finally stopped, Harry stayed where he was, heart pounding in his chest. But after a good two minutes the door to Malfoy’s room was still standing and there’d been no more sounds from within. Harry slowly sat down again, shaking slightly as the unused adrenalin worked its way out of his system.
The second time he’d woken, the knife had still been there under his hand and he’d seized it up immediately. The sound that had woken him this time, however, had been a pathetic whining. Harry got up, wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and crept over to Malfoy’s door, knife out in front of him. The whining increased in volume as Harry got closer, as if Malfoy’s wolf form could tell it had got his attention.
Harry opened the door a crack, knife held across his body and hand braced on the door-handle in case it was a trick of some kind. When nothing happened, he poked his head around the door – and almost made a cooing sound at the sight that met him.
The wolf on the bed looked anything but wild and dangerous. It was lying on its side, front paws tangled up in the chains attached to the bedstead, still whining. When it noticed Harry, it wagged its pale grey tail and looked at him with the cutest puppy-dog expression he had ever seen.
“Aw, did you get yourself all tangled, then? Come on, I’ll help you out.”
The words came out before Harry could think. It was almost impossible for him to think of this poor creature as having anything to do with the snobbish, immature blond he’d spent the last three weeks alternately avoiding and molesting. He put the knife down on the bedside table, let the blanket fall from his shoulders onto the bed and set about seeing how to untangle the mess of chains. He was just going to get started on them when his preservation instinct finally kicked in. He wagged his finger at the wolf, as if scolding a child.
“No biting or scratching, mind you, or I’m going straight back out the door.”
The wolf lowered its muzzle to its shoulder, as if to acknowledge what Harry had said, and Harry set about untangling the chains.
This time, however, Harry wasn’t sure what had woken him. He listened intently, but could hear nothing. He patted the sofa beside him, then looked around. Where was the knife? He got up and examined the spot where he’d been sitting, slid his hands down around the seat cushions, knelt down on the floor and looked underneath the sofa. Nothing. Shit! Where was it?
Harry thought back to the last time he could remember having it. He’d taken it into Malfoy’s room, then put it on the bedside table while he dealt with the tangle of chains, and then… oh bugger. He must have left it in there. Harry tried to remember if Malfoy would be able to reach the table or not. Fuck, what a stupid mistake. He’d just have to go back in there and retrieve it.
Harry crept to the door once again and opened it as quietly as he could, holding his breath. He looked into the room, then let out a huge sigh, his eyes closing and his shoulders slumping in relief. Malfoy was back in human form, blanket covering his lower half, and still asleep. Harry tiptoed forward for a closer look. The knife was still there on the bedside table, and he snatched it up with relief.
Before he left, he let his gaze run over Malfoy. He was curled up on his side with his back towards Harry, but at an odd angle on the bed, his arms stretched up and out towards the bedstead. Harry could see why: the chains had become tangled again, wrapping around one another above Malfoy’s hands, effectively tying them together.
Harry put the knife through one of the belt-loops on his jeans. He should really untangle those chains again, or Malfoy’d have dreadful cramp in his shoulders when he woke up. He edged as close to the mattress as he could without jolting it, then leant over Malfoy to look at the chains. It was plain he wouldn’t be able to untangle them completely, but if he could just lift Malfoy’s arms a bit he could at least give him a bit more room to move.
Harry stretched his arms out, arching his back uncomfortably to keep from brushing Malfoy’s head and waking him up. He took hold of one of the chains in his left hand and gently slid his right under the shackles on Malfoy’s wrists. Lifting Malfoy’s hands and uncoiling the chain from underneath them would normally have been an easy task, but with his weight so far forward, Harry misjudged and toppled forward, landing on his right elbow.
The disturbance must have woken Malfoy, because Harry could hear his deep in-breath and feel him beginning to turn over onto his back. Harry tried to push himself up, but before he’d managed it, Malfoy was rubbing his nose over Harry’s belly – bare where his t-shirt had ridden up – then his lips, then his teeth, and Harry forgot why he’d wanted to move away.
Instead, he lifted his right knee up onto the bed and Malfoy’s licking and biting got closer to his waistband. Harry groaned and shifted his left knee too, then moved to straddle Malfoy. He stripped off his t-shirt and bent down again to give Malfoy’s teeth and tongue access to his chest. Malfoy didn’t disappoint; when his hot, wet tongue on Harry’s nipple was replaced by hard teeth, Harry felt goosebumps rising all across his front.
He pressed his forehead against the lower bar of the bedstead, freeing his hands to undo his jeans. For a moment he forgot what he was doing, pushing his chest into Malfoy’s face as he suddenly sucked and bit down, hard. He sat up long enough to push his jeans off, lifting one knee, then the other. The knife made a dull thump as it hit the ground.
Malfoy growled and strained his neck up between his bound arms to reach Harry’s flesh. The look in his eyes made Harry very glad he was still shackled and harnessed; it also sent a curl of desire up Harry’s spine, and he launched himself at Malfoy, sucking full-mouthed at his neck, rubbing his chest against the leather harness and pressing his thigh up against Malfoy’s cock.
Malfoy was still growling, biting and licking at Harry’s armpit and thrusting his hips up against him. Harry hissed his approval and shifted his legs so that their cocks bumped against one another. He slid his arms under Malfoy’s shoulders and began frotting in earnest. Their skin was too dry and they kept losing contact, rutting instead into the crook between balls and thigh, but Malfoy’s cock still felt incredible and Harry wasn’t stopping now for anything. Malfoy’s breath was panting over his face and the leather of the harness was rubbing against his nipples and before he thought what he was doing, he was kissing Malfoy, devouring him, and Malfoy was doing it right back, all tongue and teeth and saliva.
Then suddenly Harry was on his back, Malfoy pressing him into the mattress, arms straining overhead. In his surprise, he stopped kissing Malfoy.
“What are you doing?”
“Fuck… want…fuck… fuck you.”
Malfoy closed his eyes and thrust against Harry as if he couldn’t stop. Harry shivered and responded, his own hips canting up without his conscious control.
Harry parted his legs and raised his knees, and Malfoy thrust again. He lifted his hands from Malfoy’s back; the left he moved to Malfoy’s mouth, pressing the fingers against his tongue.
Malfoy did as he was told, enthusiastically wetting Harry’s fingers with his saliva. Harry watched him while he spat as many times as he could into his own right hand. When he pulled his hand from Malfoy’s mouth, Malfoy lifted up on his knees, giving him access to his cock. Harry looked down at it, bobbing between their bodies, and wrapped his right hand around it, rubbing his spit over the head and shaft. At the same time, he pressed the fingers that had been in Malfoy’s mouth against his own arsehole, coating the delicate skin with Malfoy’s saliva, then pressing in. A metal-bright tingle spread up his arse and made his cock jolt.
He guided the head of Malfoy’s cock to his hole, pulling his fingers out as Malfoy pushed in, gripping an arse-cheek with his drying fingers. They were still for a moment, Harry’s hole quivering around the intrusion, Malfoy’s arms shaking on the end of their chains. Then Malfoy pressed forward, making a high, whimpering sound before biting down on Harry’s neck.
He pumped in and out of Harry’s arse and Harry clutched at his back and buttocks, digging his fingers in hard. He didn’t know what malfoy was hitting up there, but it felt like there were little electric shocks jolting up his spine with every in-stroke. After a few more thrusts, Malfoy went still and let out a cry which was muffled around a mouthful of Harry’s shoulder. Harry worked his hand in between their bellies and found his own neglected cock. Malfoy was licking at Harry’s shoulder over the place where he’d been biting, and it only took a few seconds of squeezing and tugging before Harry came.
They lay there, still and panting. Harry saw a drop of sweat trickling down Malfoy’s neck and stretched up with his tongue to catch it before it met the leather of the harness. Malfoy sighed against his shoulder, sending a shiver through Harry and making Malfoy’s cock slip out as his arse clenched.
“Good morning to you, too, Malfoy.”
Malfoy finally lifted his head.
“I don’t suppose you could get these off me now?”
He shook his arms, making the chains rattle.
“If you get off me, by all means.”
Malfoy groaned and rolled off Harry and on to his back. Harry propped himself up on his elbow, reached across and took the pin out of the shackle on Malfoy’s right wrist. The shackle immediately fell open and Malfoy let his arm fall to the mattress with a groan of relief. Harry quickly released Malfoy’s other wrist then unclipped the chains from the sides of the harness.
“Thanks.” Malfoy sat up, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head from side to side. “God, that’s better.” He crawled over Harry’s legs and got off the bed, bent forward and wrapped his hands around his knees.
“You okay there, Malfoy?”
He stood up again, face flushed under wisps of unruly hair.
“Yes, I’m fine, just having a stretch. Don’t suppose you could help me out of this harness as well?”
Harry got up and walked behind him. This happy, pleasant Malfoy was a novelty; the change wasn’t unwelcome for Harry, not at all, but it puzzled him.
“You seem very chipper this morning.”
He undid the buckle at Malfoy’s back that held the harness together and pushed it forward over his arms.
“Thanks.” Malfoy slipped the harness off completely and flung it onto the mattress. “Well, I’m alive and I haven’t ripped myself or you to shreds. I think I’m allowed to display a little exuberance.”
That made sense.
“Is that what you’re calling it these days? I thought you were just horny.”
Malfoy snorted and turned around to face Harry. He looked Harry in the eye, face suddenly serious.
“Look, Potter, thank you for last night. You didn’t have to do that.”
Harry shrugged and inclined his head.
“It was nothing. I couldn’t leave you whimpering like that.” For some reason he felt embarrassed by Malfoy’s thanks, and just like that the moment of feeling comfortable with him, with their nakedness together, was gone. Harry looked at the door. “I’m going to have a shower and get some food.”
Malfoy seemed unaware of the change in Harry’s mood, his face open and relaxed as he watched Harry picked up his clothes from the floor. But as Harry was turning to go, Malfoy grabbed his arm.
Harry looked down to see what he might be talking about and saw Malfoy’s finger, shaking slightly as it pointed at the blade of the knife still dangling from the belt-loop of Harry’s jeans.
“Oh, that.” Harry’s voice was quiet. “It’s a knife.”
“Yes, I can see that, Potter, but why have you got it and where did it come from?”
All the easiness had gone from Malfoy’s voice. It was back to its usual tone, harsh and prickly. Harry sighed and looked Malfoy in the face. He could do that at least.
“I don’t know where it came from. It was on my pillow yesterday morning when I woke up. It had a note with it that said, ‘Just in case’.”
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed.
“So, you’d happily have hacked me to bits, would you?”
Some of the fierceness was back in Malfoy’s eyes, and not in a good way.
“You bastard! Get out of my room.”
Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, but after one look at Malfoy’s expression he knew it was hopeless. He pressed his lips together and nodded, leaving the room without another word.
Harry hadn’t bothered showering after that. He’d gone to the loo and splashed enough water on him to wash away the sweat and come from his arse and groin, but that was all. At least he’d found a use for the bidet. He looked in on the pantry, which was as full of food as usual, but none of it appealed and looking at the meat pies just made him sad, so he got himself a glass of water and retreated to his room.
Once there, he pulled on his clothes and sank down onto his bed. The knife was uncomfortable against his hip. He pulled it out of his belt-loop and looked at it, shining in his hand. With a sound of disgust, he threw it onto the floor.
He was still staring at it twenty minutes later when he heard a quiet ‘pop’ and a door opening and closing, followed by the sound of voices – not just Malfoy’s voice, but another as well.
Harry jumped to his feet and picked the knife up off the floor. He strode over to his door, flung it open, dashed across to Malfoy’s room. He stopped outside the door and listened.
“…should I care?”
“Regardless of whether or not you care, Draco, you both need to leave with me, now.”
Harry recognised that voice.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, you bastard. You gave him that silver knife. You wanted him to kill me!”
“I wanted no such thing, Draco, but believe me when I tell you, it is sometimes better to die than to become a killer, something that I know from bitter experience.”
It was Snape.
Harry’s whole body went hot. He couldn’t hear what they were saying any more, the ringing in his ears was so insistent. He pushed the door wide open.
At Harry’s shout, Snape turned to face him, robes billowing with even that small movement.
“Ah, Mr. Potter. Now that we are all here, we can leave.”
Harry lifted the knife and ran at Snape, but before he had got even halfway across the room Snape had lifted his wand and Harry found himself unable to move a muscle. The momentum of his running carried him forward though, and he landed face down on the floor with a loud thud then rolled over onto his side.
“Where are we going, then?”
Malfoy’s voice sounded petulant.
“Read this and memorise it.”
Harry felt himself being turned onto his back. Snape was holding something up in front of his face.
“You too, Potter.”
It was a piece of parchment with words on it in Remus’s handwriting: ‘The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at number twelve, Grimmauld Place.’
“Once we are there, your wands, which I obtained at great personal risk, will be returned to you.”
Malfoy’s whining voice piped up again.
“Why can’t we stay here?”
Harry could hear the glare in Snape’s voice as he replied.
“Because, Draco, this is my personal sanctuary and I do not wish to share it, with anyone, for any longer than is absolutely necessary. A Muggle philosopher once said, ‘Hell is other people,’ and I am inclined to believe he was right.”
And Harry, much as he hated to admit it, found for once in his life that he and Snape were in complete agreement.