Author's Notes: Sorry it's taken so long for me to get back to this, but I've finished most of my other pieces that I needed to write to deadlines now so the updates on this should be more regular again. I estimate it will be around 20 chapters in total, but it depends how many smutty scenes make their way into it :)

Chapter 17: Reparation

"So how does it feel?"

They were sat in Harry's library again, the flames from the fire providing the only light in the darkened room. Since coming back from St Mungo's earlier Draco had stayed mostly in his room, only coming down to sit with Harry after dinner. The earlier elation had worn off, now he had only a strange sense of melancholy. Strange because he didn't know why he was feeling it at all.

He had got what he wanted, the feeling was coming back to his hands; soon he'd be able to do everything that he could do before. He would have his life back; he could move out; he could move on; he could put this whole sorry episode behind him. He could forget he'd ever fucked Harry. Harry could forget he'd ever fucked him.

He didn't know why that thought filled him with despair.

"Fucking wonderful," he muttered in reply to Harry's question, raising his arms to try and press his fingers into his eyes. He couldn't quite manage it properly yet and the pressure was only light, not the deep relieving press he needed to try and force his thoughts from his head. And it made his arm muscles burn. He swore again and dropped his hands, glancing over to see Harry looking at him in confusion.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, giving him that look again. I'm here and I care. Except soon he wouldn't be here and he wouldn't care. Maybe he never cared.

"Come on, Draco," Harry said, in a blatantly obvious attempt to cheer him up, "I know it's hard right now because your arms don't feel like before, but it won't take long before you get back to normal. And you heard what the Healer said, you can be back to work in a week. Before you know it you'll be independent again. No more having to put up with me. You'll be able to go back to living your life."

So he didn't care. All he was worried about was getting Draco out of here as soon as possible. It was the last straw. Draco jumped to his feet and made for the door, ignoring Potter's call behind him until he felt the other man's hand close around his wrist and yank him backwards.

"Draco, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Oh I don't know, Potter, you tell me since you seem to know so much about my life and my feelings," he snapped, rounding suddenly on the other man and rejoicing internally when the hand he shoved against Potter's chest actually drove the other man into the wall. "Maybe I'm just fed up with all this fucking shit. Maybe I'm fed up of this whole degrading experience. Have you any idea how humiliating it's been to have everything done for me? Have you any idea what it's been like? I bet you've been loving this haven't you? Draco Malfoy fallen from grace, helpless as a child, having to rely on his schoolboy rival for everything. Everything. "

He was being unfair, he knew, but right now he was too worked up to care. "And it's not even over. Bloody hell, Potter, four months ago I'd have died rather than let you see me naked and now look what's happened. You fucked me and the worse part is, I let you. What's one more fucking humiliation on top of everything else that's happened? What the hell were you thinking? I was vulnerable and desperate and you took advantage."

Potter's mouth was hanging open in abject horror now, something that Draco noted with grim satisfaction. He looked as if he might be about to say something so Draco plunged onwards.

"I bet you'll be having a good laugh about that when I'm gone won't you? The great and glorious saviour of the wizarding world, so fucking fantastic he even manages to get Draco Malfoy to bottom for him. Well you know what Potter? Fuck your games. I'm done!"

"Draco!" If Draco was breathing hard it was absolutely nothing to the way Potter was breathing, fast and ragged as if he might collapse any moment. Draco had the brief passing thought that Potter might be about to start hyperventilating, but he dismissed it, because why the hell did he care if Potter collapsed? It was no less than he deserved.

"Draco, please!" he gasped, when Draco made no move to say anything else. "Where has this come from? It's not like that at all… I didn't… You wanted… I mean… Didn't you…?"

"Oh yes, Potter, I really enjoy being humiliated," he snapped, fixing the man with the best glare he could muster.

"No, I mean... I didn't think it was like that at all." Potter looked suddenly anguished, as if he were about to faint from sheer distress, but Draco was not inclined to cut him any slack.

"I seem to remember telling you very clearly not to do it," he spat, shoving the other man in the chest again for good measure, and giving a satisfied grimace when he heard Potter's head bounce of the wall.

"Ow… fuck, Draco!" The impact at least seemed to have calmed his breathing down, now he was rubbing his head, glaring daggers at Draco and when he spoke again, the words were so childish Draco very nearly laughed. "You told me to do it!"

"Yeah right, Potter." Just because he had very nearly laughed, didn't mean he was any less angry. "Only when I had no other choice. You knew what you were doing. You manipulated me for your own selfish pleasure. You wanted to stick your cock up my arse and you made damn sure you got your own way. Would you have even stopped if I had said no?"

"Of course I would!" Harry's eyes widened to the point where Draco thought they couldn't possibly get any wider. Beneath his angry flush the other man now looked paler even than Draco did, as if all the blood had fled from his face. "Draco, what are you saying?"

And Draco had to relent slightly, because he realised suddenly what he was implying, and that wasn't really fair. It hadn't been like that. He was humiliated about it now, but it hadn't been like that.

"Look, Potter, I'm not some little plaything that you can fuck around with and then throw away when you're not interested anymore. No one treats me like that and gets away with it. You know what, I'm done."

He turned and went for the door, stopped again by Potter's hand on his wrist.

"Draco, please. Stop! Where's this come from, Draco? I don't understand." Potter's gaze was pleading, begging him to stay and say something more. Draco felt his heart softening, but then he dropped his gaze to the hand on his wrist, controlling him, manipulating him, letting Potter make all the decisions.

"Go fuck yourself, Potter," he said quietly, and yanked his wrist away from the suddenly unresisting grip, not even bothering to look at the expression on Potter's face as he summoned Kreacher to escort him upstairs and get him ready for bed.

If he cried himself to sleep later it was only because he was so angry with Potter.

He woke the next morning to the sensation of a hand running through his hair. He'd given a murmur of pleasure and turned into the gesture before he realised that Potter was the only one in the house and that he was angry at Potter.

"Molesting me in my sleep now, Potter?" he snapped, some of the forcefulness dulled by drowsiness. He did manage to jerk his head away though, even as Potter did the same with his hand.

"It's your birthday, Draco."

The words were said so softly that Draco nearly missed them, but he didn't and the realisation made him jerk his eyes open and force away the last of the sleep.

"What?"

"First of June, Draco. Your birthday."

Draco let his head fall back onto the pillow and his eyes drift closed. He'd rather lost track of the days since he'd been off work and although at first he'd been carefully counting down to the end of the three months he'd ceased to do so somewhere around the fourth week when he'd decided it was just too depressing. He hadn't even known what date it was today.

"Great, Potter," he grumbled, rolling over in the bed so he was facing away from Potter, "You woke me up to tell me that? Big deal. No one's going to have remembered except my parents. I'm sure your friends shower you with presents on your birthday, but mine certainly don't."

"I got you something."

"What?" He rolled back and peered askance at Potter through half shut eyes. "Why would you get me something?"

Potter shrugged. "Because it's your birthday. And well…" He seemed to be fighting some internal battle. "What you said last night. You were right and I'm sorry. You can consider it an apology present as well as a birthday present. It's not much, but there aren't any decent ones in the wizarding world so I thought you might appreciate them."

Draco, who had no idea what Potter might be referring to, decided that he'd deal better with this whole situation whilst sitting up, which was thankfully a task he could accomplish by himself now he had some movement back in his arms.

"I'll just leave it here for you."

By the time he'd managed to sit up, still feeling like this situation was one of the most bizarre he'd ever faced in the entire time he'd been here, Potter had stood up and placed a large package, wrapped in plain blue paper on the bed.

Draco looked at it with as much suspicion as he had looked at Potter earlier and opened his mouth to say something, but Potter had already left.

With nothing else to do he glared resentfully at the wrapped package until he managed to summon the coordination and strength to unwrap it. It wasn't a particularly easy job, since he had absolutely no grip in his fingers and not very much movement either, but eventually he managed it, though afterwards he would never have admitted that the feat had employed his knees, teeth and even his chin.

Still, it was done now and he was left with a plain brown box with a flip up lid, which thankfully was a lot easier to open than wrapping paper had been. He opened it without much sense of anticipation, because what on earth did Potter know about his tastes?

"Oh, Harry." He'd breathed the words before he'd even realised it. Inside the box was a pair of running shoes. An obviously expensive muggle pair of running shoes. This is what Harry had been talking about when he'd said it was hard to get decent ones in the wizarding world. It was. Wizards as a rule did not run. Draco had always figured it was probably the propensity towards wearing robes.

"Oh Merlin," he muttered when he realised that Harry had given him a present even though he'd been a total bastard to him the night before. Not just any present as well. A present that suggested he'd taken his time to think about what Draco might really need and want. The stripe down the side of the shoes was even in Draco's favourite colour.

The whole thing made him feel completely shit and completely wonderful both at the same time, which was a conflict bad enough to make his insides twist horribly. In the light of day he could admit now that he'd only said the things he had last night because he'd convinced himself that Harry didn't care; the problem was that in the face of concrete evidence that Harry did care his words seemed both stupid and unnecessarily cruel. Yes, there had been a point when he could have said them and actually meant them, probably after the first time they'd ever had sex, but that point seemed so far in the past that bringing it up now seemed entirely meaningless. He'd lashed out with those words last night simply to hurt Harry; to try and humiliate him, because he felt slighted.

And Harry had reacted by giving him a present.

"Oh fuck," he said, and then decided that he'd spent enough time sitting in bed muttering to himself and stood up. The shoes were reverently moved to the chair by the dresser and then Draco made his way down the stairs.

He realised halfway down that his heart was beating so hard he could hear the blood rushing through his ears, and he was pretty sure he was blushing, though why he didn't know. What he did know was that his hands were shaking and it was an effort to just walk, an effort that became too much the moment he entered the kitchen and Harry turned towards him with a look that was full of hope. Draco gave up, ran towards him, flung his arms around him and mashed their lips together. The kiss was sloppy and wet and completely lacking in finesse, but Harry was returning it and that was all that mattered.

At least it was all that mattered until Harry pushed him away, peered at him with eyes that were still shiny with hope and said, "Do you like them?"

"No, Potter, I hate them." Draco rolled his eyes, putting enough sarcasm into the words that even thick-headed Harry couldn't fail to notice it. Stupid Harry. Wonderful Harry. Draco took one look at the pleased smile creeping across Harry's face and mashed their lips together again.

The kiss was no less sloppy than before but it settled down after a few seconds and Draco was rather enjoying it until Harry pushed him away for a second time.

"Draco, what are you doing?" he asked, and his look of surprise was enough to stop Draco's reply of kissing you, you idiot, falling automatically from his lips. "I thought we agreed no more kissing?"

"No, you said no more kissing," Draco said, rolling his eyes and wondering how anyone could be quite so stubborn as Harry, "I never agreed to anything. And since it's my birthday I think it's my turn to get what I want for once and that means kissing. Right now." He raised an eyebrow in invitation, sighing when Harry just looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Come on, Potter, you can't give me a present like that and then go around acting all coy. You've had your cock up my arse so now you can damn well kiss me."

"Yeah, about that…" His words seemed to have had the opposite effect to what he'd hoped. Instead of kissing him Harry was actually drawing back, letting his arms drop away from where they'd entwined themselves in Draco's hair and stepping out of the embrace. "I really am sorry," he said quietly, "I didn't know."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Harry, I didn't mean what I said." If he was honest Draco would have been willing to say anything right now to get Harry to do what he wanted.

Just for a second Harry looked hopeful, but then he gave Draco a single, hard look and his own face tightened. "Yes, you did," he said firmly, "You meant it. You're just saying you didn't now because you're in a good mood. I humiliated you and I didn't need to. All I can say is that I didn't realise I was doing it, or at least not how much I was doing it and I'm sorry."

He turned away and sat down at the kitchen table, playing with the handle of a cup and refusing to meet Draco's eyes.

"Harry." He knew that sounded whiny. He didn't really care. At least not until Harry shot him another look and he realised he was going to actually have to face what he'd said if he wanted Harry to move past it. "Look, Harry," he said, trying again in a more normal tone of voice, "You're right, I was humiliated, the whole situation was humiliating, but that isn't your fault. Last night I was just…" a sudden burst of inspiration struck him, "emotional. I'd had a hard day, I said things I didn't mean."

"You did mean them," Harry insisted, "Otherwise you would never have said them." He dropped his head into his hands so Draco could no longer even see the profile of his face. "I feel like a terrible person."

"Oh Merlin, Harry." Draco shuffled his feet and looked up at the ceiling. Who would have thought The Saviour of the Wizarding World could be so damn sensitive? "You aren't a terrible person and I didn't mean most of what I said. Yes, you were a bit of a shit to me at the start and yes, you did humiliate me a bit but I can't honestly say I'd have been any nicer if the roles were reversed." He paused and then conceded, "Actually I'd probably have been even worse. You've more than made up for anything bad you did. If those things were ever true, they certainly aren't now." He paused again and looked at Harry, who was now regarding him with a slight frown. "Oh come on, Potter, you aren't going to make me apologise are you?"

There was a snort of laughter at that, which Draco was at least relieved enough to hear that it made him grin back without really meaning to. He wasn't entirely pleased that he'd had to go so far along the way to admitting he was wrong. It wasn't at all a state of affairs he was used to.

Harry's laughter died away quickly though and he regarded Draco more seriously. "But you said… you said…" Whatever Draco had said seemed to be causing Harry difficulty because he licked his lips and cast his eyes back down to the table. "You said… you implied, that I'd forced myself on you." The eyes lifted long enough to give Draco a single, desperate look and then were hidden again behind Harry's hands.

"Oh come on, Potter," Draco said, more exasperated than anything now, "You do realise that if you force me to admit I like you fucking me I'll feel even more humiliated?"

The hands dropped away and when Harry turned to look at him his jaw had dropped open too.

""So you did like it?" he said, with rather more amazement than Draco thought necessary.

"Oh fuck off, Potter." There was no malice behind the words but Draco did roll his eyes again as Harry stood up and pulled him into his arms again, regarding him seriously.

"Even if you do like it I shouldn't have started doing it in the first place," he said, "You did tell me you didn't want me to."

"Oh for goodness sake, Potter, I said that once, maybe twice. And when the hell do you listen to anything I say anyway?" Draco eyed his lips, wondering if it was safe to kiss them again now. Really he didn't give a shit about this conversation or Potter's odd little issues. He had been in a heightened emotional state last night and he had said some things he didn't mean and even if some of them had a slight truth to them he really didn't think any of it was worth making into a big issue. At least not anymore. "Can we please move on now?" he asked, deciding it was safer than just leaning forwards, which was what he really wanted to do.

"You mean to kissing?" Harry asked, his eyes starting to gleam in a way that let Draco know he'd won.

"Yes, to kissing," he said, sighing to himself and realising he was going to have to wait this one out.

"When do I listen to anything you say, Draco?"

"Right now," Draco said firmly, "Kiss me."

And he did. Their lips met and their tongues twisted together and Draco found himself suddenly very aware of Harry's taste on his lips and Harry's scent in his nostrils and the way Harry's hand felt hot as flame as it hooked around the back of his neck, holding his head in place.

They kissed until Draco was dizzy with the sheer intensity of it, until he forgot that he was kissing his old rival, forgot that this was not going to make the top ten list of most sensible things he'd ever done. He was drowning in sensation and he wasn't sure how he'd carry on living after this kiss, because nothing else would ever sustain him like this. No one else would ever kiss him the way Harry was kissing him right now.

Of course it had to end though. When Draco's arms, wrapped securely round Harry's back, started to tremble with the effort of keeping them there he was forced to drop them, first to Harry's waist and then to his sides. As he did so the kiss slowed, until Harry pulled away, dropping one last closed mouth kiss on his lips.

"Better?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow as Draco lent his forehead against his.

"Shut up, Potter," he grumbled. It was one thing to get his own way, it was quite another to have Harry think he was in control again. He manoeuvred his arm up to Harry's chest and pushed the other man against the wall, crowding him with his body so he couldn't move. "Just so you know, Potter," he hissed, bending forwards so his lips were against Harry's ear, "When my arms are properly better I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll never want to stick your cock up anyone's arse ever again."

To his surprise Harry actually shuddered, and Draco smirked against his skin. "You like that idea, Potter," he murmured, "I always knew I was right about you."

"Right about what?" Harry asked, though Draco thought his voice sounded hazy, as if he were speaking from a long way away.

"Your insatiable need for sex," Draco purred, allowing himself another thin smirk against Harry's neck before he nipped lightly at the skin. "Who would have thought it?"

"Whatever, Draco." Apparently his teeth had quite an affect on Harry for he whimpered and dropped his head to one side, giving Draco better access to his neck. Draco continued his attentions for a few moments and then stopped. Almost immediately Harry opened his eyes and looked at him speculatively.

"What are you doing, Draco?" he asked, still sounding a little dazed. Draco shrugged, because he hadn't really got an answer for that one. The urge to touch Harry, to kiss him, to hold him and never let him go was almost overwhelming, and the worst part was he had no idea where it was coming from. Harry was… he was… What was he? They'd long since crossed the line from acquaintances who tolerated each other into something much more, but how much more? And how much more did he really want?

Draco sighed and let his eyes drop closed, unwilling to really face an answer to that question right now.

Luckily Harry didn't seem inclined to press the point.

"I should do your cream for you," he said, after a moment where he simply looked at Draco thoughtfully, "I didn't suggest it this morning because I thought you'd refuse, but we really should do it."

Yes, Draco though, he would have refused Harry in a heartbeat this morning because he couldn't let a man who didn't care about him touch him, but a man who'd bought him one of the most thoughtful gifts he'd ever received? Well he thought he could probably let a man like that massage him, even if he had no idea what said man was supposed to be to him.