![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sua_layAuthor: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - ?
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Three: -Does being a good guy mean you also have to be a nice guy? Draco is about to find out. Companionable silences and fist fights are a good way to hide deeper emotions.
Warning: This part contains mild violence, explicit sex between men, confusion about sex (not non-con really!) and as you can guess, angst.
The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.
The days that had somehow seemed endless were suddenly running out.
With a sinking feeling, Harry was beginning to understand that they were indeed going to leave this place. At first it was 'at the end of June'. Then it became 'next week'. It was a shocking realization, one that drove him into Snape's room before he could even finish the thought.
Coming back to Ron that evening had been harder than he'd thought. No matter how his friend pushed him to go and do what he wanted, he knew that the whole topic was a source of disgust to Ron.
Harry couldn't help him with that.
Lying in his bed, listening to Ron's snoring, he was trying hard not to imagine what else could go wrong. He knew from experience that such thoughts were inviting more trouble, as if somehow his worries might come true. There weren't many things he could think of.
Before, they had managed to live rather nicely together, even with the small tension between Malfoy and Ron. Now they could barely sit down and eat at lunch and dinnertime.
It had been simple to stay with Snape, the togetherness a dream come true, when he didn't have to worry about anything else. That had changed as well. No matter how glorious it was to wrap himself around Snape and relax in his bed, Harry couldn't help remembering that Ron was upstairs, feeling crummy about the whole situation.
He was trying to balance his time between Snape and Ron and doing his best not to look like he was conscious about the whole thing. He didn't want Ron to feel like a burden, while he couldn't stay away from Snape either.
Every time he'd slipped out of Snape's room, he'd thought about the day they'd have to leave. It had made everything feel bittersweet. He was all too familiar with the feeling.
Now that he couldn't think of their stay here as endless anymore, he felt frozen, hoping he could freeze time as well. He didn't want to leave. This had been the best time of his whole life; there had been peace and quiet, he'd been sharing his life with someone important with no multitudes of idolizing fools anywhere. No nasty comments thrown at him by those who hated his fame.
Even with the tension and the occasional nightmares, the nagging urgency of the meetings and the horrors of the war were somewhere far away. It made Harry want to stay here forever in a kind of neverending haze where there was no fear and no death.
Would the reality of life ever be like this? Maybe, if they were really lucky and managed to win the war. But that would be the aftermath. He didn't want to even think about what would come first.
He didn't really want to think about anything right now. Too much thinking would only bring the bad dreams back, and he had already had enough such dreams to last a lifetime.
It was too bad Snape had made it quite clear he wasn't going to actually share a bed with him when they slept. He was certain that might keep the nightmares away.
Rolling over, he pushed that out of his mind. No good to dwell there either. He wished he could just turn his brain off and stop thinking altogether.
Harry knew that none of the things he tried never really worked, but he tried counting sheep anyway. Some time during the long hours, the sheep turned into Bludgers, flying across the deep blue sky, taking him away with them.
The morning sun woke Ron earlier than usual. Stretching his arms, he lay there, glad that it was yet another morning. Five more to come.
It brought a happy smile to his lips, the first such joyous expression for a long time.
The days couldn't go by quickly enough. Ron was starting to think about all those things he'd managed to ignore thus far, mainly his family that was probably really pissed at his disappearance. There would probably be dozens of howlers waiting for him back at school, most of them from his mother.
He missed his family, all of them. It would be good to be with Fred and George again. He'd need a good laugh after all this gloom.
There were others too. Seamus and Dean and Neville. It was strange to share a room with Harry and not have those three with them. Even though he probably shouldn't tell her, he missed Hermione as well. There was still that small achy feeling somewhere deep in his mind when he thought of her like this, reminding him of things he'd been so sure of, but that hadn't happened after all.
He sometimes wondered if Hermione regretted the way things had gone too, but had never asked. They were friends, and that was enough.
Life was good when it was simple. His simple friendship with Harry and Hermione. The awfully complicated but still so simple classes. Lunch breaks at the Great Hall and the freezing autumn evenings when he'd go and watch the Quidditch practices with his friends.
This whole mess what nothing like the things he wanted from life.
Sitting up so that he could rest his head against the wall and look out of the window as the sun climbed higher, Ron allowed himself to think about all the things he hated right now. The angry burn was better than the weird lost feeling that had tried to succumb him only days before.
He hated this place, the suffocating silence here. Hated Snape, who was taking his best friend away for some dark and sinister reason that couldn't be as easy as shagging. Hated Malfoy, who never looked him in the eyes again and stayed in his room most of the time.
Most of all, he hated not knowing what to do or how to act. Things had changed from school so much, he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to be. Gryffindor, seventh year student trying to finish the school with some of his dignity intact? Harry Potter's best friend? A man with no money and only a few scattered thoughts about what he was going to do with his life?
Was this really what it was like to grow up? He didn't know. He hoped not, because he didn't want to live the rest of his life feeling like this.
It would be good to go back to school. Even with the studying it would be better than this damn confusion. Fred and George would be there at Hogsmeade, staying in their little apartment over the shop, and he could go visit them when reading stuff about Transfigurations and Arithmancy got too tiring.
He would never have to go anywhere near Snape again. That thought alone brought a smile to his lips. No more going to the dungeons for Potions lessons. He wouldn't have to listen to him belittle his House or his friends.
He didn't want to think about Malfoy even to rejoice in getting rid of him.
Even the slightest of reminder of the git made him want to cast yet another cleaning spell on himself. It hadn't been a good idea in the first place, and he never wanted to experience the pain of peeing like he had a few days ago.
"Bloody hell." Muttering quietly, he pushed the covers away and got up. He was not going to stay here all day trying not to think about the unthinkable. Besides, the thought of peeing made him realize he really had to go. Now.
Ron got dressed in silence, careful not to wake Harry up. He was just going to the loo. It was probably too early for the breakfast yet, and thought he might as well let his friend sleep for a bit longer.
When he left their room, he made a lot of noise stomping to the staircase. Almost like he was trying to scare a snake away. In a way, he was.
The trip to the outhouse was brief and fortunately there was no one else there. He never let go of his wand, though, determined not to be surprised by anything or especially anyone. It made his business at the loo somewhat awkward, but he was not about to put away his wand for even a second.
Mornings were always Ron's favorite time of the day, but here they were nothing but a pain in the arse. Slipping back into the room he shared with Harry, he wished his friend was awake already so they could talk or something and then go to breakfast. He hated the silence.
Waiting wasn't exactly his favorite thing either.
The sun was already high in the sky as Harry finally stirred. As usual, he squirmed for some time, trying to block the offending light by pulling the covers up and then muttering incoherently. Ron waited patiently, knowing that very soon he'd let out a sigh and then sit up, his hair standing on end.
That was just stuff he knew. Familiar stuff from back home. Something he doubted many people knew. Not about Harry Potter. They might write all kinds of crappy things about him in the papers but they didn't really know. Like he and Neville and Dean and Seamus knew.
He couldn't help smiling smugly at the thought. No, even Snape didn't know, now did he? He didn't think so! After all, Harry didn't sleep in his room, he just... Better not think about that right now.
"What's so funny?" Yawning, Harry sat up, his hand automatically brushing his hair away from his face.
Ron shook his head. He didn't think Harry would find it amusing. At all. "Nothing." He just hoped he managed the innocent expression better than his brothers.
From the glare Harry threw at him, he had to say that he probably didn't.
This was good, like the mornings back home, when Ron sometimes had to hurry Harry up so that they didn't miss breakfast. He was so used to Harry's grouchiness that it didn't even register anymore. The tired and somewhat harried look in his eyes did, but he knew better than to address it.
No need to make things worse by talking about them now. They were just two friends talking about whatever before breakfast. Ron preferred it like this. There'd been enough serious talk already.
As they strolled downstairs, Ron allowed a disgusted smile to spread to his lips. Yeah. They had talked about things all right. Harry telling him that Malfoy wasn't going to do anything stupid anymore, assuring him it had been a big misunderstanding in the first place.
Yeah, right. Like Malfoy had tripped on his own shoes and just accidentally landed on his feet, his mouth connecting with his... Not that he was ever going to think about that again! And he still didn't believe it.
But since both Harry and Snape seemed to believe the git, he wasn't going to say anything about it, especially not to Snape. The whole idea of actually talking to him about anything that had happened between him and Malfoy chased away Ron's appetite. He didn't need to talk to anyone. Malfoy was leaving him alone, and that was enough. Seeing him hanged from his private parts would be better, but Ron knew that was very unlikely to happen.
Schooling his expression before Harry could see it -- he didn't want to make him worry again -- and say something, Ron stepped aside and let Harry walk into the little dining area first. It was a reflex by now. Just in case.
"Good morning, Potter. Mr. Weasley."
Sighing, Ron murmured, "Goor morning professor Snape." Without really looking at the two Slytherins already seated at the table, he followed Harry and took a seat.
He didn't say anything else during the breakfast.
Keeping his gaze on his plate, Draco refused to even look up when the door opened. He'd heard the way Weasley had stomped around upstairs and once again had done his best not to accidentally meet him in the hallway.
Snape's words had been clear. He was to stay away from Weasley from now on. He didn't really need to see the glare to obey, his own mind was holding him in check all by itself.
He had thought he would never again succumb into senseless self flagellation and remorse. He had thought wrong.
This whole guilt thing was beginning to annoy Draco. When they'd first got here, his whole world had been turned upside down. He'd lost everything he'd ever held important and had gained very little in return. Wallowing in angst and something very close to self pity had felt only reasonable.
Now he was simply hating every minute of this.
He hated the silences in the living room, the way Weasley flinched every time he was near. He wasn't sure which was worse, the angry and disgusted fear shown in his presence or the very distinguished flicker of guilt he felt every time he saw Weasley.
Stupid Gryffindors! He still couldn't understand their reasoning, even though Snape had indeed explained it to him, twice. It had just been a game, a chase, a hunt. He hadn't forced Weasley into anything. That was the most annoying part of the whole thing.
He had not forced himself on Weasley!
It made him want to scream at Weasley. Tell him he was so damn sorry he'd got down on his knees and sucked him off and how terrible it had been so traumatizing to Weasley that he'd almost choked him as he'd come down his throat.
How the hell could the Gryffindors make that into a rape? It was not! He was not like that!
Draco could be lots of things, but not a rapist; he didn't need to force anyone. With his looks and ancestry, he could have almost anyone he wanted. If Weasley had told him to stop he would have. There had been plenty of opportunity for that. He could have said something or simply walked away, he could have hexed him while he'd been on his knees.
He didn't have to stand there and act like he enjoyed every minute.
It was a very sound reasoning, but for some incredible reason it didn't take the guilt away. Whatever he did, it was always there, mixed with anger and a memory of real desire.
He couldn't even see his game as a victorious one now, mostly because what he'd done was still haunting him. Not only the ice cold feeling of having done something wrong, but the hunger. The very tangible want he felt towards Weasley. He might be annoying and hurtful, but Draco couldn't say he wasn't hot.
Not his usual style, no, but kind of shaggable anyway.
Draco reached out for his glass, not really looking at what he was doing, and pushed the thought out of his mind. So what if he kind of found Weasley attractive? He was never going to go anywhere near him. No matter how good it had been to actually have sex with someone, this lousy aftertaste was enough to steer him away from anything but his own hand for a while.
He was never, ever going to even try to do anything with a Weasley. Or another Gryffindor. They were stupid and childish in their innocence and he was definitely better off without them.
Snape let his gaze sweep over the table, focusing on Malfoy for a moment before looking at Weasley. Both were concentrating on their toast so hard it looked almost painful. Swallowing all the nasty words that wanted to escape, he sighed and then turned his attention to Harry.
At least this one wasn't a total nuisance. There was a knowing look in the green eyes, accompanied by a slight moue of displeasure on his lips. Snape could relate to that. Why on earth did these foolish children insist on complicating everything?
This would have been so much simpler if those two idiots could show similar restraint and mental prowess as Harry did. There were more important things than personal angsting over foolish games, but neither Weasley or Malfoy did seem to recognize the fact.
Due to their appalling behavior, his plan to actually enjoy the peace and quiet had almost dissolved, turning the tentative relaxation in the cottage into brooding. Now his days were filled with nothing but finding new ways to brew the vital potions with the ingredients he had left and shagging Harry Potter.
It was not something he would call unpleasant, but it was definitely not productive. The time they had spent here was a dangerous daydream and they shouldn't forget that the reality out there was far from peaceful.
Snape was aware that Harry had never tried to deny this was temporary, and he had to resign to the fact that it would have to be enough. There was no hope left that Malfoy and Weasley would concentrate on anything important, leaving everything to those who had the mental strength to look beyond their own pathetic needs.
Sharing a look of disgust with Harry, he shook his head slightly and then poured himself more tea.
