alisanne

Title: Rescued
Author:

alisanne
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy.
Word Count: 100 x 12
Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort.
A/N: Written for

draco100/

draco100's prompt #38: Walking.
Beta(s):

sevfan and emynn.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Rescued

 ~

The entire stadium erupted in cheers as Potter caught the Snitch, giving his team the win. Sighing wistfully, Draco stood, fighting his way through the crowd to get to the exit.

Once out in the open, Draco relaxed, making sure his hood obscured his telltale hair, and began walking toward the Apparation point. He’d just exited the stadium when he bumped into someone.

Weasley scowled before doing a double-take. “Malfoy?”

Fuck! Draco ducked his head, but it was too late.

“Malfoy?” cried someone. “Where?”

People began staring, pointing, and Draco sped up, his heart pounding.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough.

~

“No you don’t!” cried a woman, tripping him on his way past. “Death Eater scum!”

Once he was down, someone kicked him, followed by someone else. When he rolled into a protective ball, a hex hit his shoulder, making him hiss in pain. As more hexes and boots attacked, Draco closed his eyes and tried to block out the blows, not drawing his wand, not fighting back.

When someone finally kicked him in his head, however, Draco screamed.

“Stop!”

The words seemed to come from a distance, and Draco, just before passing out, saw dragon hide boots walking towards him.

~

When Draco came to, he ached everywhere. His eyes fluttered open.

“You’re awake. Good.” Hermione Granger’s face came into view. “Harry! Ron!”

Draco heard footsteps walking closer. He blinked, and when he next looked, Potter was leaning over him. “All right, Malfoy?”

Groaning, Draco tried to sit up, but ended up collapsing back onto the bed. He frowned. Bed? “Where am I?”

Potter regarded him a moment. “My place. You were attacked at a Quidditch match.”

Draco exhaled as the memories returned. “Knew I should’ve stayed home,” he hissed.

“Why didn’t you defend yourself?” asked Weasley, behind Potter.

Draco snorted.

~

“I’m serious,” said Weasley. “I saw what happened. You didn’t even arm yourself, you walked away, and when they stopped you, you just let them hex and kick you.”

Draco once again tried to sit up, managing successfully with Potter’s help. “I’m on probation,” he muttered.

“So?” Potter crossed his arms. “You still could’ve defended yourself.”

Draco laughed mirthlessly. “Once the hexes start flying, Potter, the Aurors show up. And once they see me with my wand drawn, their first instinct is to confiscate it and imprison me. I only just got my wand back, I’m not losing it again.”

~

Potter was frowning. “They can’t do that!”

Draco snorted. “Yes, actually. They can.” Swinging his legs to the side of the bed, he continued, “Thanks for the rescue, but I should be going.”

Potter looked over at Weasley, who shrugged.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Unless I’m a prisoner here.”

“You’re not,” said Potter. “But Hermione thinks you may have a concussion. She wants someone to watch you for the next day or so.”

“I don’t,” said Draco through gritted teeth, “have a concussion. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” He stood, walking a couple of steps before collapsing into Potter’s arms.

~

“You’re all right, but you won’t be if you try that again! Don’t make me Stun you into resting!” Granger looked irate, and Draco swallowed hard and nodded.

Huffing, Granger marched out of the room, Weasley walking out after her.

Potter, watching from across the room, moved closer. “So, looks like you’ll be my guest the next day or so. Are you hungry?”

Draco opened his mouth, prepared to lie, just as his stomach grumbled. Potter grinned. “Right, any food allergies?”

“No.”

“Lovely. I’ll be right back with dinner.”

Once alone, Draco closed his eyes and groaned. “Salazar help me!”

~

When Potter walked in twenty minutes later levitating a tray, Draco was calmer, having spent his time alone reminding himself of all the reasons letting Potter see he fancied him was a bad idea.

“Soup and sandwiches,” said Potter as the tray settled on the bed. “I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want to take more time to make anything too complicated since you were hungry.”

“You made all this yourself?” Draco eyed the spread, which was clearly meant for two. “Impressive, Potter.”

Potter shrugged, but looked pleased. “I’m not bad in the kitchen. Anyway, dig in.”

Draco nodded. “Thanks.”

~

They ate in silence, and once they were done, Potter flicked his wand, sending the tray out the door before eyeing Draco. “Do you need the loo?”

“Yes, actually.”

“I’ll help you.” Potter extended his arm, and Draco, steeling himself, sat up.

Happily, the walk to the bathroom was uneventful. As Potter waited for him outside, Draco relieved himself, then checked his reflection in the mirror. “He’s Harry Potter, you’re a Death Eater. He isn’t interested! Remember that.”

Once Potter returned Draco to bed, he hovered there.

“Anything wrong, Potter?” Draco asked.

Potter coughed. “This may all be my fault.”

~

Draco blinked. “What?”

Potter began walking back and forth across the foot of the bed. “You’ve been attending many of my matches.”

He knows! Draco looked away. “What makes you think—?”

“I’ve seen you.” Potter shot him a nervous-looking smile and continued pacing. “You’re hard to miss, actually.”

“Oh.” Draco looked down at his hands. “I’m not stalking you, I—”

“I know.” Potter walked over to Draco. “I didn’t think you were. And all the games you attend, I win, so I’ve started thinking of you as my good luck charm.”

“Really?”

Potter nodded. “So…thanks.”

Draco smiled. “You’re welcome.”

~

Potter’s smile made Draco forget everything, including his pain.

“Anyway,” Potter looked away, staring at a spot behind Draco’s head, “I wished for a chance to talk to you, since you tend to run off once the matches are over. I didn’t want it to be like this, though.”

“Wait, you think your wish is what got me into trouble tonight?” Draco snorted. “Trust me, Potter. I get spit on or hexed when I’m just walking down the street. What happened tonight was nothing new and definitely not your fault.”

“Still.” Sitting, Potter clasped Draco’s hand. “I’m sorry it did.”

~

Draco searched Potter’s eyes. He seemed sincere, and, exhaling, Draco exhaled. “Don’t be.” Squeezing Potter’s hand, he murmured, “It was one way to get me into your bed.”

Potter gaped at him, then laughed. “Not my preferred way,” he replied, giving Draco a thorough, intimate once-over. He licked his lips. “I’d rather any aches be obtained pleasurably.”

“That’s also my preference.” Draco hummed. “Did Granger say anything about things I shouldn’t do? Walking, I suppose.”

Potter grinned. “Her only instructions were to make sure you stayed in bed and awake all night.”

Draco smirked. “How…convenient.”

Potter laughed. “Isn’t it?”

~

Talking became snogging, which became cocksucking

By early morning, Potter was slowly riding Draco’s cock, their eyes locked. He moved rhythmically, doing all the work, his arm braced on Draco’s chest as Draco caressed his hip and thigh.

After they’d each come several times — Draco lost count of his orgasms after number four — they curled up together, Potter telling him hilarious stories about his Quidditch teammates’ antics.

And that’s how Granger found them upon walking in the following morning.

“We didn’t overexert ourselves,” Potter said.

Draco snorted.

Granger smiled. “Hurt him, and I’ll give you another concussion.”

Draco nodded. “Understood.”

~