Carey ‘W’Recs Wednesday(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ presents:
My Little Berserker
Aelys_Althea @aelysalthea
Chapters: 15/15 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovergood, Neville Longbottom, Rubeus Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall Additional Tags: HP: EWE, Magical Creatures, Slow Burn, Mild PTSD Reference, Long, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Long-Suffering Harry Potter, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Sort of Bonding, H/D Pet Fair 2016, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Sexual Content
Summary:
Eighth year was supposed to be calm. Moderated. Peaceful, even. Draco returned to escape the chaos wrought upon his shambles of a life and Harry to flee the responsibility of a world that sees him as something greater than was truly possible. Hogwarts was a safe haven, right?
At least it was until Hagrid comes up with the wonderful idea to introduce some additional members to the student body of the fluffier variety. Hagrid doesn't do moderated - where's the fun in that?
(੭ˊ͈ ꒵ˋ͈)੭*⁺˚. * ･ ｡ﾟ☆
Excerpt:
Draco had never liked the Forbidden Forest. Not after his first year's detention in it's depths. It was dark, and spooky, and threatening in a 'can't see the danger but know it's there' kind of way. But for once Draco barely considered his fears. They seemed to pale in comparison to the greater fear that settled increasingly heavily upon him.
Harry. Pipsqueak. Were they alright? Had they run into danger? If they had, were they injured or had they escaped? What of Pipsqueak herself? She must have been terrified if she'd fallen into stampeding flight. It physically hurt to consider her distress, and more than just because Draco hated to think of her upset.
They all knew what happened when a foxlet became distressed.
He was sprinting. Draco didn't even know how for long he'd been running, jumping over fallen branches and weaving through tree trunks. His breath was ragged, was coming hard, but he didn't care. Some time, seemingly without his direction, his wand had sprung alight with a Lumos Charm. He barely considered it, even as he followed the light of its illumination into the shrouding, almost tangible darkness.
He didn't encounter any creatures, blessedly. Draco thought he might have heard them, the distant crunches were the footsteps of a centaur, the whisper of leaves from the passage of Acromantula who, since the Battle of Hogwarts, had been realised to actually exist within the forest's depths. Draco didn't care, even as a part of his mind was screaming at him to watch his back, to be wary and on his guard. The far larger part of him was frantically scanning his surrounds for any sign of Harry and Pipsqueak.
He must have been deeply embedded in the Forest by the time he felt the abrupt sharpness of the strange draw within him. The link that he suspected, that he hoped, was leading him to Pipsqueak and Harry. Draco paused in step, nearly falling to his knees as his legs trembled in weariness and, gasping, turned in the direction his attention felt drawn. There. That was it. With staggering steps, he dragged himself into the shadows that, but for his mental itch, looked exactly the same as every other shadow.
Draco felt them. He felt them before he saw them, and even before his Lumos caught a glimpse of them he felt himself nearly sag in relief. When he did, however, it was only to hasten his step into a sprint once more for both Harry and Pipsqueak were crumpled to the floor as though collapsed.
They weren't. Thank Merlin but they weren't lying slumped in unconsciousness or worse. Draco registered that much as, in a sliding collapse, he tumbled to the ground beside them. Pipsqueak was curled in Harry's arms, practically crawling up his chest with her arms around his neck as if in an actual embrace even though she was far too big to be seated in his lap. She was trembling, Draco could see, bodily shaking with her ears flattened along her head and snout tucked into the crook of Harry's neck. Her tails were twitching, bristled as if in continued distress, though at least – blessedly – she was no longer fleeing.
Harry himself was breathing heavily, as though he too had only just stopped running. He was shaking almost as much as Pipsqueak, clutching onto her just as fiercely in a return embrace. His eyes were closed, Draco could see, his shoulders slumped. He sat sprawled, legs twisted in what must have been an uncomfortable angle but he made no motion to correct himself. His hair was a mess, likely both from the wind and the rain that had been sprinkling upon the grounds, and there was a faint sheen of sweat painting his cheeks, visible even through the gloom. Somewhere along the way he'd lost the jacket that Draco had seen him wearing that morning, but other than a thin welt on his cheek that looked to be the result a snapping tree branch he appeared unharmed.
Thank whatever Gods Harry was always referring to.
Draco didn't think. He simply acted through his sheer relief. As soon as his knees touched the ground, as soon as he was sure that they were both blessedly unharmed and that thank Merlin Pipsqueak hadn't gone Berserker, he lunged forwards and wrapped his arms around them both. He squeezed as tightly as he was capable of, ignoring Harry's start as though he hadn't even been aware of Draco's arrival, or Pipsqueak's feeble "yip" as he crushed her between them.
He didn't know he was speaking, had been asking – no demanding to know if they were both alright, until Harry interrupted him. "Draco, we're fine, we- we're fine. Really." He made a motion as if to pull away slightly but Draco didn't let him. He couldn't. Even at the sight of them both, his heart was still racing a thousand beats a minute. He was still wavering between terrified and sagging with relief. "We're fine, just… just tired. We're just… we're okay."
Draco forced his lips to clamp shut. He could feel his own arms trembling just as much as Pipsqueak did, as Harry shivered in his embrace, but he didn't care. It was an embarrassing display, true, but he didn't care. Not now. Pipsqueak was a solid, soft weight between them. Draco revelled in that warm, that softness, and was struck once more by how much the little foxlet truly had come to mean to him. So much, more than he could have possibly imagined. More than almost anything else in the world.
And Harry, too. Harry, who was so real, so here, just where Draco could touch, where he could feel him and know he was alright. If Draco had any further suspicions as to his feelings, the tidal wave of relief would have washed them away. This. This was what he needed. Needed more than he wanted, even.
It was a struggle to unlock his arms from around Harry enough to that he wasn't squeezing the life out of him. Just enough to pull back do that he was no longer crushing his face into his shoulder and to slide his hands up behind his head. Harry peered up at him, blinking hazily, wearily, still panting in slightly slower gasps now. Draco parted his fringe with his thumbs, met his gaze, and couldn't help himself.
He leant forwards to kiss him without a thought.
The circumstances could have ben better. They could have been much better, really. They were both exhausted, wet and shivering. They had a sorely distressed foxlet on their hands and they were in the middle of the fucking Forbidden Forest. But Draco didn't care. In that moment he'd never cared less about his surrounds, because he had finally, finally worked out what to do about his feelings. That he simply had to act. Harry was the sort of person who acted without hashing out the theory. Draco would be just like Harry.
For a moment Harry didn't respond. He seemed frozen, as though stunned by the gesture, which he most likely was. But only for a moment until, wriggling one arm out from between them to draw around Draco's, he drew him close and pressed him more deeply into their kiss. His lips were cool but it hardly mattered. It was perfect.
It didn't last long, though. Not because Draco didn't want it to but simply because it didn't. Poor timing. Poor situation. Poor everything except for the fact that it had happened. When they drew away from one another, Draco maintained his hold upon Harry's head, however, eyes closed for a moment almost fearfully before he opened them to peer into Harry's. Harry was staring straight back at him with an expression that could only be perceived as wondering.
"Sorry," Draco managed to choke out in barely more than a whispered gasp. "I didn't… I'm sorry I –"
Harry didn't let him say any more. Not another word. Leaning forwards, he closed the distance between them once more and fit his lips back to Draco's. Perfect.
It was poor timing. A poor situation. It was appalling in everything else. But that at least was perfect. Draco didn't want to be anywhere else in the world.
(⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡
