[personal profile] lrthunder82 posting in [community profile] hp_mhealthfest

Oh, dear god, I’ve done it. I’ve died and gone to heaven. I might not have been so averse to kicking the bucket if I’d known it would be so... divine. My heavy eyelids are in no hurry to open; I’m warm, relaxed and I feel safe… and Merlin, that delicious smell! I’m immersed in it, and it seems to be a proper aphrodisiac… If that’s how Heaven smells, no wonder it’s been all the rage for centuries. I inhale the fresh, warm and… sexy – god, yes! – fragrance, and my wonderfully laid-back mind identifies it as casually as it was the most common scent in the world for me: Hugo.

Merlin’s homemade socks, where am I… and what have I done?! If I’m reading my impressions correctly… I seem to be parked right on top of the lovely redhead with his strong arms holding me protectively around the shoulders, and his strong heart beating against the side of my face. Oh yes, heaven sounds about right. This… is seriously nice. I’m melted against the muscled chest… and one of my hands is resting on top of a beautifully taut, sculpted torso. Merlin, he’s fit. And he feels so strong! All that Quidditch Scorpius mentioned certainly shows. I’m in absolutely no hurry to move. I love it here. The intoxicating, manly musk of him, the strong beating of his heart… Perhaps if I remain still I could prolong this… cuddling? Oh, god, I’m just so hopelessly smitten that I’m practically drooling already…

“I still can’t believe you went through something like this without informing me first! He could have died! He could have come back broken…!”

Bugger. So we’re not alone. Which is good! Of course… yes. Merlin’s left nipple, who am I fooling?!

My son – undoubtedly – sounds properly agitated. I can tell because his voice has that fussy tone that’s saying “You, poor fool, stepped on my tail and now I’ve snapped my serpent jaws around you and I’m not letting go – ever!”

“Why am I always the last one to find out everything?! I’ve trusted you to make him better; you might as well have trusted me when you’re going to make one of your crazy, drastic moves. He’s my father, you know! I’m his next of kin, Hugo – I deserve to know!”

God Almighty, go easy on him, you ruthless child! Poor Hugo! He only wanted to help – I practically dragged him to that Pensieve – he shouldn’t be bullied by my blissfully ignorant son, who doesn’t even know how much the beautiful redhead has done for me! But before I can somehow unglue my eyelids and pry them open to interfere, the redhead’s calm voice replies – and he doesn’t sound even a little bit intimidated.

“It was your idea, Scorp; you said so yourself. And it was a good one – your father must have recognised that somehow, or he wouldn’t have thought of it.”

Merlin’s limping dog – would you look at that?! It seems that Hugo can totally hold his own, even in the face of my son’s legendary grouchiness! And just when I thought he couldn’t impress me more!

“Besides,” the redhead continues, that masculine voice suddenly sounding serious, “I didn’t tell you to call me at any time in case things go awry so I could stand there and do nothing. My job sometimes requires me to take steps that are painful, risky, and a far cry from comfortable, Scorpius – but always aimed at the final goal of healing.”

God, the authority that rings in his voice, it’s just… it turns me on. There’s no use beating around the bush: the sound of Hugo Weasley’s deep, commanding voice turns something inside me into jelly. I could listen to that voice – and follow it – for as long as he’d have me.

“He’s been suffering long enough, Scorp,” the redhead speaks unexpectedly softly. “His experiences are of the most horrid sort – extreme violence he witnessed, mixed with humiliation he was subjected to, and a feeling of guilt and helplessness on top of that… It’s a cocktail that would be deadly for most people, and I can scarcely believe his bravery to stand up in the face of it. But it’s been festering inside of him for a quarter of a century, and it would eventually kill him, have no doubt about that… It might have come as an accidental overdose or as shock to his weakened body in one of his tormenting night-terrors – but he didn’t have much more time ahead of him. Certainly not with the type of medication he was using, and not as sleep-deprived as he was in the end. You brought him to me, clinging to the end of his rope, and I honestly think it was just a matter of weeks… Now, don’t cry! I can’t hold you both, you know!”

Oh.My.God. My son is sobbing. I don’t think I’ve heard him make that sound since he fell off his first broom, and that was more of an angry sobbing from bruised pride than this… wretched, heart-wrenching sound.

“It’s just… I really don’t want to lose him, you know. I know your dad doesn’t think much of him, but I couldn’t have asked for a better father, honestly! I could see that something was bothering him, but he was always so private… When mother told me what happened, I was… To think that I’ve let him down! He always stood by me, always did what was the absolute best for me, and I left him when he needed me most. Rose and I should have waited… but with the baby on the way…”

Baby?! What baby?! OhJesusfuckChristandMerlin… I’m going to be a grandfather!!!

“I’m sure he’d understand… if you and Rose finally opened your silly mouths and told him about it!” Hugo grunts. “If you delay it much longer, he’s going to read it in the Prophet, you know – and you know they won’t make a pretty affair out of it!”

“I know… I know that,” my son sighs. “I wanted to give him the good news so many times, but he was so distant and absolutely wrecked lately… I thought I could do it when he was feeling a bit better… but to think he might be running out of time…”

“Well, don’t delay much longer, that’s all I’m saying. News like that has got to have a positive effect on his health, silly,” Hugo murmurs. “You know, my dad fell off a broom and broke three ribs when Rose not-so-cleverly used the middle of a Quidditch match to break the news to him – but he’s recovered. In fact, Mum had to ask Uncle Bill to explicitly tell the goblins at Gringotts not to open more than one vault at the time for him after Rose caught him trying to buy a broom and Quidditch gear for the baby!”

A broom?! A broom?! But what about his wardrobe? The child needs something to wear – they soil themselves awfully in the first few months! And a wand! Every child has to have a toy wand! And a little toy Snitch to practise on, yes – the freckled brute surely forgot about that, ha! I wonder if they already have a room ready for him – surely it’ll be a boy, the Malfoys haven’t had a daughter in centuries, and the Weasleys are none too strong in that department either! They will have to accept a gift from the prospective grandfather; I simply cannot be outdone by a Weasel! Oh, I’m going to be a grandfather!

As if he could feel my joy, Hugo’s arms seem to tighten around me, and one of his hands threads gently through my hair, as if he was reminding me to stay still – or maybe he just felt my heart beat faster and he’s trying to calm me down.

“By the way, my dad doesn’t think badly of your father, not anymore,” the redhead says warmly. “Not after Rose told him your father never objected to your union… and now, with the baby on the way, he realises he’s going to have to put whatever differences and petty confrontations they used to have to rest. Bury the hatchet, so to speak. And you, Malfoy Junior, need to forget about your guilt – you lot are awfully strong on the self-reproach front! If you want my expert opinion, your father’s meltdown was coming, rain or shine – you staying around might have delayed the process for a few months, but his sleeping problems could not be managed indefinitely with the medication he was taking. Eventually, he would have arrived at this very same point in life – and he might have been in a worse shape with no help at hand.”

My son’s sniffling is the only sound in the room, and my heart squeezes in my chest at the thought of the sorrow I’ve put him through because my stupid pride wouldn’t let me seek help sooner. We, the Malfoys, were always very private when it came to our problems – we tend to close our ranks and take care of it ourselves. But this is something my family couldn’t help me with. I tried taking care of it myself, but I’ve only managed to alienate my wife, and I had no idea how I had hurt my son in the process. It was obvious from their conversation that he stayed at home as long as he did because of me. He must have noticed my desperate clinging… Salazar’s oily beard, I have once again been selfish, even though I was too scrambled to notice it. Will I ever stop making a mess of my life and the lives of everyone around me? Was I cursed?!

“It’s going to be all right. Don’t cry, blondie,” Hugo speaks softly, and I can hear my son snort and give a chuckle at the affectionate term even through his sniffling.

“Don’t call me that!” he mumbles, and I sense a camaraderie I never felt towards another boy in his voice. I can’t recall him ever speaking of Hugo much, though he always had so much to say about Rose, but there’s something there… some unspoken understanding between two kindred souls who are simply on the same level.

“I’ll call you whatever I want,” Hugo replies with a chuckle. “I was your first kiss, remember?”

I… freeze. Merlin’s dragon… what? What?!

“Oh, don’t remind me,” my son groans. “It was a move made in despair and only because I wanted to make Rose jealous and couldn’t bring myself to do it with another girl. I thought she might notice me for something other than just her best friend if I kissed you,” my – clearly lethally dumb – son mumbles, sounding properly embarrassed. And I shouldn’t really feel so incredibly relieved that they were never… romantically involved. Only… I am. Oh, I suppose Weasley-related idiocy runs in the family.

“Oh, notice she did,” Hugo moans. “I’ll have you know that my arse occasionally still stings from those damn… harpies… birds… whatever those creatures were that she sent after us! In the end, I had to confess that you agreed to compensate me by letting me borrow that old-age scroll on potions from the manor’s library – and still I spent half a year hiding whenever I saw her angry scowl. I don’t think she ever properly forgave me! I got the best training in dealing with painful and risky procedures at home, you know!”

“Well, it did work,” my son mumbles. “I don’t think she’s let me out of her sight since. I stupidly paid your Aunt Fleur a compliment once – she is still quite stunning, three kids and all – and I had to kip on the couch for a month. Not to mention that I still have my wand at the ready as a precaution every time I see your Uncle Bill. That Weasley temper… honestly...”

“Yup, we’re quite possessive,” Hugo chuckles softly. “We fall for that one special person, and it’s game over for all time.”

“Yeah… I wouldn’t have it any other way, you know,” my son says unexpectedly gently. “I love Rose to bits. I tried to propose when she got pregnant, but she said she didn’t want to be ”a fat bride” – not that I would have cared one way or another, but you know how adamant she is. And she’s got this vision of our child carrying our rings on the heart-shaped pillow down the aisle, so yeah… I let her have it.”

“I’d call you a romantic softie, but I know better,” Hugo grunts. “You’d never sleep again if you didn’t let her have her way. She’s bloody scary when she wants something… but I guess you could have done worse in terms of a future wife,” he chuckles warmly. “You’re going to have a brilliant life, both of you. And perhaps it’s good to wait for a bit. Your father will be much better in time, and we both know he’s going to fight my dad tooth-and-nail to have a hand in your wedding.”

“Father… is going to be better, isn’t he?” Scorpius asks quietly. “Don’t you dare give me any bad news.”

“He’s got a really good chance at improving now, I reckon,” the redhead says thoughtfully. “He’s really determined to make progress and finally leave this wretched war behind – but it’s a process, and it won’t happen overnight. It took my mum and dad months – and I think Uncle Harry is still not quite over it. Your father will need you more than ever. He’s an exceptional man who has raised you exceptionally well, and he’s going to need to feel like he’s an important part of your life and the life of his grandchild. He needs that feeling he’s got something to live for. New life always brings new hope, and your father more than deserves it.”

I’m… moved, quite frankly. Just… seriously emotional. I have shown this young man nothing but the worst and the most miserable of me, and still he has nothing but the best words for me. I just… want to kiss him. Hopelessly so. And because my brain has been a bit fried lately, I do. Before I can stop myself I press a tiny, grateful, overwhelmed kiss into his chest – and I freeze. Merlin… now I’ve really done it!

But instead of jumping to the ceiling or freaking out, which he would be entirely justified in doing, the redhead just gently slides his fingers into my hair once more, and combs through it with such care and tenderness it makes my heart flutter in my chest.

“We need to tune it down a bit,” he says just above the whisper. “He’s waking up, and I don’t want him to, not just yet. He needs all the rest he can get. I won’t lie to you: he’s still very fragile, physically and mentally. It’s been eating at him from the inside for too long and – don’t forget – he’s been around very dark magic for a long period of time. People don’t often realise what a mark that leaves. If I was you, I’d make sure he’d have something to look forward to every day – even if it’s only tea in the afternoon, or shopping for all the baby knick-knacks once you finally come around to telling him. It might speed up his recovery greatly.”

“You really like him, don’t you?” my son says unexpectedly, and only years of Malfoyian drill in composure and indifference keep me still. But I can’t keep my heart in check. Suddenly, it’s racing madly against my chest, and I’m mortified at the thought that Hugo can most definitely feel it. But I can’t help myself. My son just posed a question I would never in a million years have the guts to ask, and – oh, for God’s sakes, the blithering fool that am, I’m desperate for an answer. The small pause before he answers seems to last a century.

“Yeah… yeah, I do,” he finally exhales, and I can hear him smile. “He’s quite something. I didn’t really think he’d give me a chance to treat him, but he jumped right into it – no prejudice whatsoever – and he’s been a model patient ever since.”

“But you like him, right? Like, for him? Not just as a case?” my son smugly pursues further, and my heart is ready to break out of the confines of my chest.

“What if I do?” Hugo asks quietly. “You wouldn’t have a problem with that, would you? You know I’d never be anything short of professional, but what I do in my private time is my own damn business.”

Oh my god, what is he saying? Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Would I really stand a chance? Surely not! Oh, I bet my stupid scrambled brain and smitten heart is making me read his words all wrong! Why would someone so… stunning want to have anything to do with me?!

“I’m asking,” my son says pointedly, “because I will hex you into the Dark Ages if you break his heart. He opened himself up to you… frankly, I’ve never seen him like this – and we both know that you’re a player, Weasley. One night stands, that’s your business, and I’m saying if you’re thinking in that direction with my father in mind, I’ll make sure you regret it. Don’t.Break.His.Heart; that’s all I’m saying. Or I swear, I’ll… I’ll set Rose on you!”

“Heaven help me, surely not,” the redhead murmurs sardonically, but there’s enough laughter in his soft rumble that I’m fairly certain he can hold his own against his fierce sister.

“I’d never hurt him,” the redhead suddenly says softly. “You know that.”

The silence that ensues is bristling with their unspoken communication, and I’m simply dying to be able to open my eyes and see what is going on between them, but finally my son sighs and says sulkily:

“Make sure that you don’t. I need to leave now – my future wife has most impossible cravings for ice cream, and nothing but straight from the Fortescue’s will do. Oh, before I forget. Here’s that statement from Grandmother Cissy you asked for – Rose finally dug it out of one of the files from the first trial – it was classified and never made public, but it’s as you suspected: she did everything she could to protect her son… from both sides.”

I hear the rustling of parchment, and suddenly my skin is crawling. Every muscle in my body tenses as if in anticipation of some unknown, looming calamity – and I don’t even know where the sudden feeling of panic comes from. What is this all about?! Hugo’s arms grip around me a bit tighter, as if he is telling me to keep it still… Merlin, is he aware that I’m awake, then?

“Thank you. Please, put it on the table,” Hugo says quietly. “I’ll have a look at it later. I don’t want to move just yet. Your father responds best to human touch, and right now he needs to feel safe and comfortable.”

“Bollocks,” my son mumbles. “You’re too buff to be comfortable. You just like holding him.”

“I’m not even going to attempt to answer that, you blond dolt,” the redhead chuckles in reply, but his hand sweeps a few strands of my hair to the side so gently, as if giving its quiet confirmation, and the feeling is so charging I can barely hold back a moan.

“Don’t want to incriminate yourself, do you?” Scorpius grunts.

“Get out of here, blondie, before I become an uncle to a fatherless child,” Hugo laughs softly. “I may not be in a position to get you, but if Rose gets that ice-cream late, all bets are off.”

“Right you are,” my son groans. “My balls and all my future children are in grave and imminent danger. Later, Weasley.”

The next thing I hear is the soft pop of the Apparition, and the only sound for a while is the steady, strong beating of his heart. I’m still the same boneless sort of tired, and the sound of his heart is simply the most relaxing, wonderful thing ever. His fingers are still slowly combing through my hair, and I… I just don’t want to lose this. I’m still excited about the prospect of becoming a grandfather, and I have a million questions regarding the mysterious parchment on his desk… but I decide that it can wait. It is so damn nice and uncomplicated to simply give into his body heat and that unspoken tenderness, and let it lull me back to sleep.


When I wake up again, feeling wonderfully rested and amazingly rejuvenated, I can tell even with the curtains drawn that the sun is high up in the sky. Hugo – my first thought – is nowhere to be seen, but before my disappointment can settle in, I notice a tray with a mug of smouldering-hot black coffee, a glass of orange juice, and a deliciously smelling plate of fresh croissants on the nightstand next to a neatly folded note.

Mr Malfoy Draco,

I hope you had a good rest. When you’re up to it, please join me in the library. Your son has generously permitted me to use it for my work during my stay here.

I hope not to intrude on your hospitality for too long, but I’d like to discuss your progress and the next steps to be taken in your treatment.

Enjoy your breakfast – it’s fairly obvious to me now why Grandma Molly always said she wanted a house-elf – the food is ridiculously delicious!


I admit, his note makes me smile. Seriously – Weasleys and their food… My god, I still remember those early Hogwarts days, when Weasley – Senior – used to dig into every meal with such an orgasmic expression on his face that it made Granger roll her eyes and Potter giggle like a madman.

And speaking of the “o” word – I’ve just discovered the source of a most pleasant tension flowing through my body like a current: I’m hard. Like, proper hard. I’m solid. For perhaps, the first time in what must be years… Merlin’s left bollock, could that really be the sign that I’m healing?

In the days before the war, I used to wake up like this every bloody day – and I confess I always thought it was a bit of a nuisance, but mostly too pleasant a one to resist. I used to love do indulge myself in that activity, even if it meant learning a couple of mean privacy charms – not only to conceal my actions you see, but to block out Crabbe and Goyle’s grunting. Merlin, the sounds they made could be used as a contraceptive – no one could procreate – or wank – in those conditions! I confess I kind of cared for the two mean bastards in the end – but certainly not enough to listen to their morning grunting!

But after the war… it was as if I couldn’t really find my youthful spirit anymore. I was a broken man in more ways than one. But now… now my juices seem to be flowing through me with a vengeance… there’s an excited rush of blood in my ears, and when I stretch my stiff muscles, my cock juts forward as if I was sixteen again… God, I can’t possibly let this opportunity go to waste… as if I could. I know perfectly well why I got it… and who’s the only possible source of it.

Hugo… I only have to close my eyes, and I can almost smell the delicious musk of warm skin. My hand is on my cock before I can stop it, cupping, kneading, freeing… feeling the hardness, revelling in the velvety feel of the hot, heavy flesh sliding inside the palm of my hand… Oh, god, how could I forget? I used to love this… best feeling ever… How could I have done without it for so long?

But now the urge has got ahold of me, and I can’t resist. My mind is flooded with the images of that obscenely beautiful copper hair that first took my breath away… with the way that luscious, tempting mouth stretches into a radiant smile… and how he chuckles warmly in a way that makes those piercing blue eyes sparkle like diamonds… Sum tuo aere, he told me on the first day with that sexy smile… ohMerlinfuck… I’d sell my soul right now to sink my fingers into that rich, silken copper and take him up on his offer… have myself fucked senseless… Oh, god, this is definitely not going to take long.

And then, a perfectly clear memory suddenly flashes in front of my mind of that one time during our first meeting, when he bit his lip in a manner so innocently seductive that I couldn’t take my eyes off his full lips… and now I’m picturing them around my cock… warm, soft... and hungry… swallowing my shaft all the way down and closing around the hot flesh as if they need it… sucking… teasing… claiming… coming back for more… yes, yes, ohgodfuckyes!!!

I feel my body arch like a bow, and I come so hard it feels as if I was hit by a bloody freight train. There’s no warning – just a helpless, muffled cry of his name… and then an expanse of starry universe behind my closed eyelids. Oh, this is fucking beautiful… It’s been too bloody long…. I don’t recall ever seeing black when the release hit, but this time it was just… JesusMerlin… that was… intense. I knew I wouldn’t last… but I didn’t realise I was quite so desperate. As I lie in my bed, panting, flooded with the gorgeous golden softness of absolute bliss spreading through my limbs like a priceless tide – I can’t bring myself to regret it. I groan mentally, thinking that I’m going to have to meet him soon – and having wanked over him… would he know? But I’m simply too… happy, to be worried.

Merlin’s boiled dragon egg – I’m happy. I barely recognise the emotion… or myself. It’s been years since I’ve felt anything like happiness – my Scorpius being born was probably the last time. But that happiness was mixed with the anxiety of the terrible responsibility in front of me – raising my son into a decent human being – but this sort of happiness was… different. It was a carefree sort; the sort that a teenager without a proper care in the world might feel – one I never really knew. I really wanted to keep it. I was determined to. I knew the orgasm-induced high wouldn’t last – but I felt the solid foundation of the peace underneath it that I was desperate to get to. It was the one thing that could make my happiness permanent – into a thing I would know I wouldn’t lose even on rainy days. And Hugo could help me with that. I really shouldn’t leave him waiting much longer.

I get out of bed fuelled with determination and vigour that feel brand new as well, and after a refreshing bath I dig into my breakfast with wolfish hunger. I can’t remember ever feeling so starved. I even have a passing thought that almost makes me choke on my pumpkin juice: do the Weasleys always feel that sort of passionate need for food that makes them enjoy it so? Surely I wasn’t turning into one of them! I’ve always considered food more of a necessity than a source of joy, but today I seem to have found a new appreciation for it. Perhaps it is my morning bliss – or the fact that I feel as if I’m a good way down the path to healing – but everything seems to glow with a different sort of splendour. For the first time in ages, I stand in front of my closet and actually consider what to wear – because now it matters. He is waiting to meet me.


And I thought my day was bright before I set my eyes on him – but it isn’t until I spot the glitter of red hair by the windowsill in the library that I realise how much his presence means to me. My heart jumps into my throat, and I become acutely aware how much he made me need him in the space of just a few days. The force pulling me toward him is almost physical – and I’m suddenly stunned by realisation that I can’t imagine no longer seeing him around. It must be that obsessive Black part of my personality that doesn’t want me to let go. There has been no talk of him disappearing from my life yet, but I fear it already. I don’t even bother taking my eyes off him because I feel a deep, thirsty need to soak up every detail of the stunning young man. Sitting still as a statue, he’s staring through the window, clearly immersed in deep thought, and I can’t get enough of looking at him.

I can only see his profile, but his face seems thoughtful and serious, while his gorgeous copper hair is pulled into that rigorous plait that’s supposed to make him look more professional. But his hair seems to have a will of its own, and doesn’t look like it wants to cooperate: his plait is beginning to fall apart already, the silken strands of loose hair bestowing a youthful softness to his face that makes my heart ache. His deep blue eyes reflect the summer skies they’re set on, and for the first time I notice his Muggle attire – faded denims that still somehow make his long, strong legs look incredible, and a button-down that clings to his muscled frame like water…. Actually, that’s not entirely true. The shirt clings to his wide shoulders like water, but from somewhere at the middle on, the buttons seem to have been done up in a hurry and aren’t stuck in the right button-holes. He’s utterly adorable like this, and without a shred of doubt, the most breathtaking man I’ve ever seen.

And then without a single warning, I’m hit by a lightning bolt of head-spinning realisation: I’m in love with Hugo Weasley. Head over heels… smitten. This is no longer just an unhealthy attraction. It has never been just that. He’s… I’m in love. Desperately, hopelessly in love. The truth hits me like a punch in the face. How could I allow this to happen? He was here to help me and once his work is done, he’ll be gone. How could I have gone and done something so stupid?! But in the same moment, I already know I wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything in the world. I’m loving its breathtaking bliss, its bittersweet edge, the very silken fabric of the feeling too much. I’ve fallen for a gorgeous, talented man I have no hope of winning – but I’m in love for the first time, and it’s just… all worth it. It looks like that concept might not have been so overrated after all...

The commotion I make finally causes him to notice me. He turns his head towards me, and for one long, breathless moment, our eyes meet across the room. There isn’t a single word spoken between us, but a shiver goes through me as if I was physically touched. The bond between us is so intense, it’s like… like our eyes found a way to kiss across the distance, and it’s just as hungry, desperate and filled with urgency as I knew it would be for us. I know without a shadow of a doubt that he was thinking about me when I walked in, and I know with the same certainty that I want him to. I’ve been subjected to Legilimency many a time in my past, but nothing… no connection ever felt this intimate. I’m afraid to breathe for fear of breaking it.

But of course, it can’t last. He bites into his lower lip softly, probably without even knowing, and the sight of those white teeth against the tender flesh stirs up something so feral and possessive inside me that I barely swallow a desperate moan. I want him. God, how I want him. I cross the room without a single word spoken. My mouth is on his before his words can take away my chance to do this, but the way his lips meet mine – soft, hungry, desperate, taking and giving – I know I just did what was inevitable. He can’t deny me. He won’t. We have this… ungodly, urgent… thing, between us… this fucking unforgivable forbidden need to connect and sink into each other that I can’t find any rational explanation for. My vision nearly blurs around the edges when our tongues touch, and the feeling of silken, wet flesh begging to enter my needy mouth literally makes my knees give way. His hand is on my back with the speed of lightning to stop me from falling, and inexplicably, cruelly, he pulls away.

“We can’t do this,” he whispers, and he sounds as miserable as I feel. No, no, no… he can’t take this away from me! Just when I found it, found him… no! But with that unrelenting force he possesses, he leads me to the armchair and makes me sit in it. He takes a step or two away from me, as if he needs to put a bit of a distance between us, but can’t really make himself to go too far. I feel the distance between us as an almost physical pain. Why is he doing this to me?

But then he looks at me with those gorgeous, sad blue eyes, and says the words I fear the most:

“I can’t be your Healer anymore. I… this is all wrong.”

“No!” I try to shout, but it comes out as a choked bark. “No! This isn’t fair. Why are you doing this to me? I was making progress, you can’t just… Hugo, please…”

I’m not even ashamed of my pathetic, begging voice; I’m much too anxious that I’m going to lose him. I’d do anything to stop him from leaving. I was on my way out of this misery called life when he entered, and his incredible life force pulled me right back into the light and… it took me a while before I realised it, but on that day, I met the love of my life. It’s why I so desperately wanted to get better. For him. Because he made my heart beat faster and made me want to live.

But if this… this new, scary reality between us was the thing that was driving him away, I would stifle it. I’d lock it in my heart and never speak of it, if that’s what it takes to make him stay. Please, Universe. I don’t want to lose him. But it’s all in vain. I can see it in the determined, sad look in his eyes, and my heart sinks lower than I ever knew it could. I don’t want to keep breathing.

“You don’t understand…” he says softly. “There is this thing… it’s called transference neurosis. It sometimes happens in cases of very intense therapy that a patient begins to have feelings for the person treating them… only, it’s because of the therapy, and not because it’s real.

Oh, you know nothing of real, my beautiful redheaded wonder. This is as real as it gets. Nothing in my life as a breathing, wanting, starved-of-love man has ever felt so real.

He rubs his face in that familiar gesture that first made me notice those beautiful, slender hands, and my nails are digging into my palms to the point of bleeding. How dare he be so blasphemously beautiful at a moment like this?! Am I not supposed to hate him in the face of his rejection? But I feel no hate whatsoever, just a desperate love that makes my whole being ache. I feverishly want him to keep talking, but not because I want his explanation. He doesn’t want me. I don’t care why. I just don’t want to lose him yet, and while he talks he’s still here, with me, out of this world beautiful, and for just a moment longer, a little bit mine.

“I suppose it was because we started on such a wrong… funny… informal foot,” he says quietly, and the serpent in me loves him for his misery. If this isn’t easy for him, he must feel something.

“I was just so dreadfully tired that day before you came in… and it all went in the wrong direction from there. You had me dreadfully embarrassed that day – and that wasn’t the last time that I compromised myself as your Healer. We were… I was not professional. I couldn’t be around you for some reason. Not after you caught me sleeping and… never after that, I’m afraid. Something about you just feels… too personal… more than just a job. I don’t always make house calls, you know,” he smiles sadly. “I don’t always lie down with patients to make them feel comfortable… but I would do anything for you,” he says with such stunning honesty, I literally stop breathing. Merlin’s grace, please, please, don’t leave me like this, tell me what this is all about…

“Treating you has given me a certain insight into my life that I must say I badly needed,” he says with the same measured pace, same calm voice, and the very same sadness in his lovely eyes. “For one, I gave my notice of my resignation this morning at St. Mungo’s. I’ve realised that this is something I want to specialise in – post-traumatic stress disorder, the condition you have – and my regular job at St. Mungo’s was draining me and distracting me from that goal. No Healer should ever fall asleep on their patient,” he stresses, “and I’ve done it not once, but twice with you. In dealing with patients with your condition, it could be dangerous – and it’s highly irresponsible. I owe you an apology for that alone… but that is far from everything.”

My heart is beating at a furious pace, and there is pressure collecting behind my eyes that makes me feel as if my head is going to explode. Please, please don’t apologise for what we had. It was so little… and it was everything. I need to believe it was real to keep on breathing after you’re gone.

“Surely you must know what I’m trying to say already,” he says incredibly gently, but his tenderness feels like acid corroding the truth underneath, and I feel like screaming at him not to ruin it for me, not to label it… what we have… as something that it isn’t. Suddenly I’m dead afraid of his words, but there is no stopping them. They come anyway.

“It wasn’t until I talked to your son that it really dawned on me what I’d done. When I first noticed your feelings… transference… I didn’t stop you as I was supposed to… because I couldn’t,” he says simply, and looks into my eyes as if he wants me to understand what he’s got to say. “Because I’ve got feelings for you as well… and mine are real.”

As if from a distance I hear, “I don’t think I have enough distance to be your Healer anymore. I’m… Draco?”

The anxious urgency in his voice is the last thing I register. My heart literally feels as if it has burst in my chest and everything goes red… and then black…

I come to my senses with the feeling of strong arms around me, immersed in that wonderful scent... best smell ever… the mixture of warm skin and the very scent that spells love. Hugo. My Hugo. Who has feelings for me. Real feelings. I can’t open my eyes fast enough to see him. And there he is. Kneeling by my side, next to the leather armchair in my library, his beautiful face only inches from my own, and a silken coppery curtain of his hair all around me like a protective veil. He looks completely beside himself.

“Draco!” The tiny crease of worry on his brow, the relief on his face… it’s heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. Merlin… Could it really be? Could he really have feelings for me? Someone as incredible as this?

MerlinChrist, Draco.. you gave me such a fright… I just can’t be anything but stupid around you, can I? That’s what I get for letting you fry my brain completely. I shouldn’t have told you this way… you’re still so fragile. But I couldn’t just bottle it up anymore. It was interfering with our work, with your healing… and this is important… you’re important. You’re the most important person to me right now…”

His voice ends in a whisper when I finally do what I’ve wanted to do all this time: I sink my fingers into that gorgeous, glittering mass of coppery hair, and I pull him down onto my mouth with such desperate force that not even he can resist.

Sum tuo aere…” I whisper into his mouth, once again blissfully warm and pliant. “Just like you told me once, remember? I’m yours for a copper… for all this copper… the treasure you’re made of. I want you, Hugo, and I don’t care if you think it’s just some bloody transference, or whatever the hell it’s called. This… is not a medical condition. This…” – I give him another desperate kiss, laden with every bit of the insane, overwhelming, heart-bursting affection I have for him – “… this is pure love.”

He moans into my mouth quietly, and I just want to forget about the rest of the world and keep doing this… keep getting drunk on the wonderful, intoxicating love pouring from his lips onto mine. But I’ve got things to say, and I need to say them, in case my fragile nerves betray me once more, and he won’t ever know.

“It’s your love that’s healing me. So if you want to get me another Healer, I’ll do that… I’ll do anything you want me to, just to keep you… but it won’t do me much good. It’s you. It’s always been you, and that… light you're filled with that made me fall for you, and made me hope. You took my breath away the first time I saw you, and I had no idea you were supposed to be my Healer. It's not just your dedication and care that made me feel I could get better. It's just you, Hugo… as you are. So you better tell me that you’ve got a good idea, and a good, solid plan about how to help me, because I want to get better for you… and if I can have my choice, I want to get better with you.”

There’s such a soft glimmer in his eyes that I can tell he wants to believe me, but I know I’m going to have to work harder than that: this is Granger’s son I fell for, and as soon as my arms are no longer wrapped around him, his rational brain is going to kick in, and he’s going to doubt every word I’ve said. That’s all right. I’m ready for the long haul, love. I know what I feel, I know I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. I’ll do whatever it takes to give him the proof he’s after. He’s going to have to see my love for what it is eventually. It’s not like I can hide it – hide how it makes me feel. I’m practically glowing. And it seems as if, at least for now, even he can’t resist.

“I’m not quite sure, I believe you, Draco Malfoy,” he whispers into my mouth emotionally between two desperate kisses. “But this mouth… it’s just too sweet to resist… always saying the right things… such a snake charmer. Did I mention that I was sorted into Slytherin? Well, now you know. Natural Healers always are. There’s snake in our sigil for a reason, you know. And you’ve charmed this snake… charmed it completely. I honestly don’t know whether I’m coming or going around you…”

“Coming, if I can take my pick,” I murmur, and – Merlin, I never knew I was capable of such terrible cheek! I just know that I’m stupidly… impossibly happy, and it’s making me do stupid, impossible things.

“Not just yet,” he chuckles, and presses another seductive, delicious kiss onto my lips. “We need to get you better first. I don’t want you passing out on me when I come asking for a full physical…”

Jesus, I love the naughty spark in his eyes, the taste of a promise lingering on his sensual lips. Just the idea of that sinful mouth on my skin makes me release the most embarrassing, utterly debauched moan, worthy of the most wanton whore the ancient Pompeii ever had. But I can’t help myself, can I? He’s just pure, sinful sex on endless legs, and then there’s that soft, glittering hair in my fist that I’ve got such a bloody fetish for… and that mouth. Oh, it’s all too much. No fucking chance I can let go… I won’t! I kiss him once again, hungry, needy, greedy for more.

“Tell me then,” I demand, not giving a rat’s arse how arrogant and spoilt that makes me sound. “Tell me how you feel about me. I want to hear you say it. I want to…”

“I’m in love with you, Draco Malfoy,” he says softly, with that sweet, tender smile – and it’s enough. It’s more than enough. It takes my breath away.

“I should have known the second I saw you standing in the middle of my room looking a bit desperate… and my first thought was that you must have stepped out of my dream,” he adds with those magical sapphire eyes on mine, and I’m… completely lost for words. Like a true king, he easily gives me the thing I so desperately crave. I never knew I could feel so lost and found at the same time. It’s like I’ve been looking for the right destination all my life, on the verge of losing hope, and then – bam! – a few simple words from my red-haired knight, and suddenly there I am.

A mad surge of overwhelming love takes me completely by surprise, and I feel so consumed by it that I’m rendered speechless. I honestly cannot say a word. I can’t tell him that his feelings are reciprocated, a thousand times over; that I’m ridiculously bonkers about him. I can’t tell him how much his confession means to me – but I reckon he guessed somehow. The way I can’t take my eyes off him – can’t stop playing with his hair, can’t stop bloody touching him because I can’t believe he’s really letting me own him – must have given me away.

I just stare like the hopelessly smitten fool that I am when he leans down once more and steals a string of soft, nearly chaste kisses from my lips, whispering:

“And I think… I think I might know a way to make you better. You should really come to my birthday party next week, love.”

Part 6
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July 2017


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