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They were kissing and kissing, and oh it felt so good. Potter’s mouth was hot and wet and perfect. Even when he had been on the receiving end of countless of Harry’s kisses, it still made his head spin with want. The wet smack of lips and tongue echoed in Harry’s bedroom at Grimmauld Place, his fingers tugging lightly on Harry’s locks as Harry’s hands ventured under Draco’s shirt.
Harry pulled away for a moment just before lips were gliding across his exposed collarbone, kissing and nipping lightly up Draco’s neck. He felt Harry grin against the soft skin of his neck before he cheekily licked a stripe up to below Draco’s ear, knowing Draco hated to be excessively slobbered on. He let out a huff of annoyance at that but didn’t mind too much as Harry proceeded to nip and suck the skin on his neck, applying more pressure than before to make his mark on Draco’s pale skin.
Then it happened.
A hissing began to fill the room, claws of fear suddenly grabbed at Draco, panic crawling up his gut. He jerked violently, forcefully pushing away from that weight on him, he didn’t care what it was, he just knew that he had to get away. He had to.
Darkness. Nagini. The manor.
Crucio!
Draco scooted up the bed with the panic of a hunted animal, hands clutching at his knees as he curled up, shaking violently as waves of memories crashed over him. The world seemed to spin around him, a blur of bright lights behind closed eyelids. An invisible hand seemed to close around his throat as his breathes became ragged and uneven, he was suffocating, yet he wasn’t. Hands were grabbing at him, arms circling him as he vaguely heard someone urgently calling his name. Potte-no, Harry. Harry was here. This was Harry.
“Harry, Harry please! Please just-“ Draco called out to him, pushing Harry away, not with the force as he did previously but with a gentle urgency, or at least how gentle he could be in this state. He seemed to take the hint as Harry immediately retreated, hands releasing him, the arms around him let go and Draco could breathe again, the claustrophobic feeling abating. He took deep slow shaky breathes as he tried to steady himself, slowly uncurling himself from the fetal position he was in.
Inhale.
One, two, three, four.
Hold.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
Exhale.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
Repeat.
Finally, he opened his eyes, the lights were now distinctly dim as it was before the attack. Harry kneeled at the edge of the bed, concerned confusion written all over his face, fists gripping tightly onto the bedsheets, clothes still rumpled from their makeout session.
“Can I have a glass of water?” Draco said shakily.
Harry immediately disapparated to the kitchen downstairs, apparating back again with a glass of water in hand. He handed it to Draco wordlessly, tentatively laying a hand on his shoulder, trying to gauge Draco’s reaction at that, ready to pull away at any sign of discomfort. Draco raised the glass to his lips, taking big slow gulps, body relaxing slowly, Harry’s hand now a welcome comfort. He handed the glass back to Harry who wandlessly vanished it.
Draco scooted off the bed to Harry, wrapping his arms around him, an indication that he was alright now. Arms gently circled him, now a source of comfort, an anchor unlike before when it was a suffocating pressure.
“We’ll talk later, let’s shower,” Draco murmured against Harry’s ear, feeling him nod minutely as Draco buried his face into Harry’s shoulder. They went into the shower, Draco leading Harry as he held his hand firmly.
A shower always helped him after a panic attack, the hot water rolling off his shoulders in soothing waves, washing away the last remnants of anxiety. This one was no different, especially with Harry’s presence. He wordlessly washed and lathered Draco in the shower, void of any sexual intent, just tender touches which made Draco’s heart squeeze painfully. The mere act of cleaning so intimate in that moment, taking care of Draco, even while not completely sure of what had just occurred.
Later under the covers in the darkness of Harry’s bedroom, Draco had his head resting on Harry’s naked chest, holding onto Harry as Harry wrapped an arm over his shoulder, their bare legs tangling familiarly.
“What happened?” Harry murmured.
“I’m sorry, I get these attacks when I’m reminded of the war.” Draco paused before continuing in a pained voice, “Parseltongue. It reminds me of him.”
There was silence as Harry took in the information, guilt coursing through him. He thought it would go well, Ginny had always been turned on by it. It hadn’t occurred to him that it would bring back memories of Voldemort for Draco who had him in his home during the war. Undoubtedly, Voldemort would have used it to speak to Nagini during his stay.
“I’m sorry,” Harry replied, pulling Draco up to fully rest on him to pour out his apology in a kiss. “I’m really sorry,” he said again as they parted only to dive back in, this time to press a gentle kiss on Draco’s lips. He wrapped him up in a tight embrace, hand firmly on the back of his neck. Draco held on just as tightly, a slow smile curving at his lips despite what had led to this situation.
The war would never leave them, not really.
But for now, they were okay.