[H/D Owl Post] Filled with the Spirit
The moment Draco tries to pull his fingers out of Harry’s mouth, Harry bites.
Not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough that a delicious little stripe of pain digs into the bone above Draco’s knuckles.
Draco might have been born at half-past eleven at night, but it wasn’t last night. Harry’s baiting him, but in cases like these—a long day, deep involvement with the curse, a near-miss—it’s less conscious brattiness than a compulsive need for reassurance.
Reassurance Draco is prepared to provide. He’s still got his off-hand at Harry’s throat, ready to squeeze, and squeeze he does.
Harry gasps, gagging a bit on Draco’s fingers. His pupils blow even wider. They’d already been quite wide, what with the breaking, but the Killing-Curse green thins out. His chin tips up another fraction, and his eyelids flutter, and finally—just when Draco’s going to have to let him breathe—Harry laps at Draco’s fingers with his tongue.
That’s the only apology he’s in any position to give. Draco waits a moment more, then slides his hand from Harry’s neck to his hair.
“Is that all you’ve got in you?” he asks.
Harry shakes his head.
Draco presses down onto his tongue, and Harry takes his cue to suck, his dark eyes on Draco’s face.
Of course, Draco is no wide-eyed ingénue. He’s well aware of the glints in Harry’s eyes like the tiny points of flame spreading into the pews from the Paschal candle. Let us lift our eyes to him. The Muggles will be looking at a bronze baldacchino a hundred feet high during the Mass tonight, and beyond it, the Cathedra Petri.
They’ll look, but they won’t see. Not at first. The Mass begins in darkness, so the altar and the throne and Bernini’s Dove of the Holy Spirit will be rendered in shadow. There is nothing to do but wait for them to return. To trust they still exist. Faith, not sight.
Read Filled with the Spirit on AO3
An @hdowlpost gift for @maraudersaffair featuring curse-breakers Drarry and also the Vatican!