Drarry oneshots

A series of Drarry oneshots. Don't like, don't read.
Warning: there could be some minor (or not so minor) swearing and other such things. Also some AU. Um...I think that's it for the warning...


15. What a Malfoy wants, a Malfoy gets

Warning: Mentions of past abuse.


Harry woke up, rubbing his eyes groggily. He reached over to grab his glasses from the nightstand...only to encounter nothing but air. Opening his eyes, he squinted, trying to see where the glasses were. He got up, but then sat down on the bed immediately. His vision swam, and he felt like throwing up. What had he done last night?

Harry glanced back at his bed. Someone lay there, their outline clear under the blankets. What had he done? Had he brought someone home?

The memories of last night suddenly came back to him. He had been out drinking, drowning his sad thoughts about his own future in alcohol. Someone had approached him, bought him a drink. But who?

The raven haired man took another closer look at the person lying in his bed. Without glasses, it was hard to distinguish any clear face features, but Harry did see one thing. The hair. The platinum blond hair that was fanned out over the pillow. Harry only knew one person with that particular hair color. Draco Malfoy.

After the war, Harry and Draco had begun to get along. They didn't hate each other anymore, and worked in the same department (Auror). They'd even been partnered up for certain assignments. Harry had learned that Draco Malfoy was actually a good man.

Regret lodged itself in Harry's throat. Draco deserved better. Harry was broken. He couldn't love without the memory of the things that his abusive boyfriend had done to him resurfacing in his brain. After that disastrous relationship, Harry had been more guarded. His heart had been broken, neglected, and so he began building up walls. He didn't want to be hurt again.

Harry stood back up and spun around on his heels. He needed to do something, anything, to get his mind off this. He felt like shit, and a pounding headache was stopping him from really concentrating on anything. Grabbing his morning gown, he stalked (or as best he could while having an extreme hangover) out of the bedroom.

Stumbling into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, he fumbled around in the cupboard before pulling out a small vial of purplish liquid. Swallowing in one shot, he sighed in relief. Thank Merlin for Hangover potions. 

He considered fire-calling Hermione to tell her what happened. But then decided against it. She would try and convince him that he should be in a relationship with Draco, and that was not what he needed right now. But he needed to tell someone. This wasn't something he could keep to himself. 

Hearing the shuffling of feet coming from upstairs, Harry quickly pulled his bathrobe closed tighter.

"Good morning." Draco said pleasantly. "Do you have any Hangover potion?"

Mutely, Harry handed over another vial of potion. Draco gave him a calculating look, then thanked him and grabbed the purple liquid.

How could he be so calm? Harry's thoughts were a complete turmoil, and he was sure that it was quite obvious. But how could Draco be so goddamned calm and collected.

"Harry." Draco said.

Harry didn't look up. He avoided Draco's eyes. He tried, he really did. But how could he look at the blond in the face after this? Their ish-friendship would never be the same. Or perhaps it wouldn't even exist anymore.

Draco deserved so much more. Couldn't the other man see that? Harry. Was. Not. Capable. Of. Loving. Anymore.

"I love you Harry." Draco declared.

Still, he didn't look up. Draco was making a mistake. A mistake. This wouldn't end well, and at the end, it wouldn't be Harry that was hurt. It would be Draco. Harry could smell the heartbreak that was going to be on his hands, just as one could smell blood on the hands of a murderer.

"I'm sorry." he finally mumbled. "You should go now."

He waited for a sound to indicate that Draco was leaving. None came.

"I think I'll stay here actually. Your kitchen has rather comfortable chairs." came the reply.

Harry was beginning to lose patience.

"I don't love you!" he exclaimed. Right after he said that, he felt like slapping himself.

"I know."

"Then why are you still here? I will only hurt you."

"What is life without a little risk?"

Harry stared at Draco. Was he serious? Had he actually just...

"Besides, I'm a Slytherin and a Malfoy. I won't give up." the blond said firmly. "And then maybe someday I can make you love me..."

Harry was flabbergast. He looked up and stared at Draco.

"You don't understand. I am incapable of love. My heart has been broken once, and I won't let it happen again. So do yourself a favor and leave."

Draco shrugged.
"Still not leaving. I'm going to say this once, and only once, so listen carefully: I don't care if you break my heart, if you tear it to pieces, if you stomp all over it and then when you hand it back it's nothing but a bloody mess. I don't care, because one hour with you is better than never having had you at all."

The blond got up from the chair he was sitting in. He approached Harry, who was slowly backing into the wall with every step.

"What a Malfoy wants, a Malfoy gets." Draco whispered as he was an inch away from Harry's face. "And I want you. Therefore I will have you, whether it be for a second or for a hundred years. No matter, because at least I'll have shown you I care, shown you that someone loves you."


A/N: Slightly angsty??? 

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