Chapter 6 Dadddyyyy! (Or, finally some things get explained)
The next morning Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione headed to the infirmary, intent on seeing Emily. To Harry’s relief she was still in the infirmary, just in a back room. They were surprised though, on entering the room, to see three people sitting in it: Emily and two older men. Hermione paid no attention to the men though.
“Emmy! You’re alright!” apparently the girl hadn’t been conscious the night before. Emily nodded, smiling.
“’M find, chere. ‘Bit shook up, but I’ll survive.”
“Good,” Hermione hesitated a moment before hugging the girl tightly to her.
“Emmy, aren’t ya gonna tell us da names o’ these friend ‘a yer’s?”
The four wizards turned towards the voice. A tall man was leaning up against the window frame, longish red hair falling into eyes exactly like Emily’s. Another man sat in a chair by Emily’s bed. He was more thickly built, with shorter brown hair and intense blue eyes.
Emily grinned. “No, papa, I’m gonna leave ya in da dark.” She
nodded towards the three boys, not bothering to let Hermione out of their
hug. “Dey are Harry Potter,
Ron Weasly an’ Neville Longbottom, and dis is Hermione Granger. Guys,
dis is my Père an’ my dad.”
Harry nodded to the two men, “I’m glad you came,” he said, remembering all the times he had lain in the infirmary wishing his parents could come and comfort him.
“No way in hell we wouldn’t,” the seated man growled. The standing one, which Emily had referred to as her père laughed.
“Dat’s true, Logan, love. But ya don’ have ta go scarin’ the children.”
Logan snorted. “If they’re here that means that mutants don’t scare ‘em. I don’t think I will.”
“Y’re scary on a normal level, mon amour.”
Suddenly Harry realized that, despite their bravado, their cracking jokes, both men were worried. It was just their way of dealing with it. Then something occurred to him. These men were Emily’s parents, probably not genetically, though Emily did have her ‘papa’s’ eyes. But were they mutants too? It seemed likely.
“Emily…” he hesitated, “I hate to seem brash but, what exactly happened?”
Emily sighed, “I knew dis was going ta happen. I was…careless.”
“Ya shouldn’tve used yer wings,” Logan growled. Emily nodded.
“Yes, da, I know.” She turned back to the four wizards; Hermione still seated comfortably in her arms. “Yer wantin’ da whole story I guess. Papa, can I?”
Emily’s ‘papa’ shrugged. “I don’ see why not, darlin’. Dey came back aftah dey knew. An’ dey don’ seem scared. ‘Cept mebby the pretty lil’ blond one.”
“Nev, ya scared ‘a me?”
Neville shook his head, “more…in awe of I think really,” he murmured.
“Good,” She looked around at the wizards. “Have ya heard ‘o th’ x-men?” Ron and Neville shook their heads, but Harry and Hermione nodded slowly. “Mutants, but dey try an’ help de other mutants. M’ dad an’ mon père are part of dis. Kinda retired now. But dey’re, if not the originals dey’re damned close. Gambit an’ Wolverine.” Harry’s eyes went wide at this, and Hermione had to poke him to keep him quiet.
“What about you?”
“Well…uncl’ Hank, da Beast ya know, kinda likes his machines. An’ when m’ dads…got together he was kinda doing studies on all da cloning an’ genetic experiments goin’ on. I came outta dat. Paris Emily Lebeau, the genetically created child of all de x-men,” she smiled. “An’ before ya ask, no, dey were not trying ta make a ‘perfect mutant’ ‘r ‘perfect soldier’. Jus’ me. Dey combined da DNA an’ dey were gonna take me no matter how I turned out.”
“That’s…sweet,” Neville murmured.
Emily nodded, “totally an’ entirely sappy. Ain’t it great?”
“What…powers do you have?” Ron blurted out; unaware of how Emily’s ‘papa’ was smiling at him. Emily herself merely shrugged.
“Dere’s da wings an’ da tail, obviously. An’ da healin’. Somewhat telepathic, but da telekinesis is really weak, I can freeze minor t’ings, ummm…I dunno really. Chargin’ stuff I guess.”
“Ya learn more as ya grow,” Logan pointed out, he was still sitting stiffly in the chair as if waiting for something. He jumped up when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
It was Professor Snape who entered. Black hair looking slightly degreased,
but with dark circles under his eyes.
“Remy, Logan…”
Harry’s mouth dropped. Emily’s dads knew Snape? The professor he would have figured on most likely to be a homophobe. Though…no, that wasn’t right. Silently, he watched.
“Severus,” Logan’s voice was a low growl. “You said…”
Emily’s père…Remy stepped up beside his mate, resting a slim hand on Logan’s bulkier arm.
“Quite, mon amour, ’m sure nothing was Severus’ fault.”
“He said she’d be safe.”
“I didn’t think the students would be that stupid!” Snape finally burst. “Not that it was all that smart of you, Emily, to show your wings. But they’re wizards one would think…”
“See,” Remy cut in. “No’ his fault.” Turning from Logan to Snape he continued. “We’ve already talked ta her ‘bout dat Sev. I wanna know ‘bout da boy.”
Snape smiled slightly, “I’ve never been prouder of Draco.” He turned to the four younger wizards. “And even Potter can’t find fault with him this time.”
Harry blushed a bit. “I wouldn’t try to sir. He did more than the rest of us seemed to be able to.”
“Good. Then, Emily’s doing alright?”
Remy laughed slightly a tremor in his voice, “’course she is.” He sat down on the cot, brushing Emily’s hair back off her face. Logan slid back down into his chair.
Neville and Ron both fidgeted uncomfortably. “Perhaps we should…go?”
“Oh, don’t,” a soft voice drawled from the doorway. “I was so looking forward to having people to talk to.”
Snape whirled around, “Draco! You shouldn’t be out of bed!”
The blond boy shrugged. “Madame Pomfrey said I should come talk to all the people in here, giving that no one was visiting me.”
“But you’re…”
Draco gave another shrug, this one slightly pained. “I’m fine.”
Harry stared at his ‘rival’ carefully. He was paler than normal, and leaning far more weight on his left foot then his right. But…gods! Still so beautiful, so different from last night when he had looked so vulnerable. Now he was…not even harsh again, something about him had softened, but determined.
“You sure you’re ok, Malfoy?” Oh, he has so meant to call him Draco. Damned habit.
“Fine,” Draco replied, sliding into a chair. “Though I must admit amazed at your concern.”
Harry blushed. “You saved Emily.”
“Ah, so I’m suddenly your hero.”
Emily coughed, “I was gonna say t’ank ya, pretty boy. But now…”
“Oh alright, I beg your forgiveness for being nasty to Harry.”
“Den t’ank ya.”
“It was only right.”
Harry bit back the obvious comment, but Ron didn’t. “What would a Malfoy know about right?”
Draco sighed, “don’t tease me, Weasley, I’m far too tired.” Then, with a though, he looked up at Harry. “Not to mention I still need to talk to you.”
“Why…” Harry began, then subsided at Draco’s Look. “Oh,”
“Yeah.” Draco seemed totally unfazed at the unknown people in the room. His blond head lolled slightly against the chair back.
“Ya alright, pretty boy?” Emily drawled, almost equaling Draco in casualness.
“I’m surviving. You’re the one that got mauled.”
“But I‘ve got healin’ powers, ‘sides, I fell on ya.”
“Ah. That explains the knives then.”
“Yeah.”
“So ‘m ta take it dat yer da homme dat saved Emily?” Remy queried.
“I suppose you could say that, yes.”
“Ah, merci bein, petit, for savin’ m’ daughter.”
Draco merely nodded then let his head loll again.
“Somthin’ wrong?” Emily asked. Draco snorted.
“I…slept oddly, damn these hospital beds, and my neck is,” he grimaced, “rather on the painful side.”
Emily winced sympathetically, so did Harry.
“I’m sorry.”
Draco grinned. “You are welcome to do something about it if you’d like, Potter. It certainly wouldn’t go unappreciated.”
Harry blushed, bright red. “Maybe we should just go talk now,” he muttered. If Draco was actually going to flirt with him he’d rather it not be in front of all the people. Emily laughed, squeezing Hermione tight.
“Y’ g’on cher. I’ll survive wit’out da two o’ ya.”
Draco stood up slightly wobbly and nodded to Emily. “Thank you miss Lebeau.”
“Don’ thank me, pretty boy. I owe ya. Now scoot.”
Harry and Draco settled back on Draco’s ‘hospital’ bed. Harry was desperately trying to avoid thinking of how Draco had looked, spread out there the previous night. But it seemed he couldn’t, Draco was attempting to relax, his back resting tightly against the headboard as if he couldn’t let himself loose no matter if he wanted to.
“You alright?” Harry queried. Draco merely snorted.
“I’ll survive.”
“Here, turn around,” Harry suggested. Draco looked puzzled. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m going to try and help.”
“You, help?”
“Yes, me, help. One would think I might manage.”
“Given your track record with others yes.” Draco turned around,
uncaring, and Harry started to massage his tense neck. They were quiet
for…maybe a minute. Then
Draco spoke quietly.
“Why are you doing this”
“Cause no one came to see you”
“So pity, I don’t need your pity.”
“No!” Harry’s hands tightened on Draco’s neck. “It’s not pity. I just…I…” he stuttered unable to explain himself. “Why were you nice to me back there?”
Draco snorted, “I figured I’m already dead, so what do I care anymore.”
“Already dead?”
“Oh for cripes sake, Harry. I saved a Gryffindor! A mutant! My father is hardly going to like that. So seeing as it’s unlikely I’ll be able to deal in the first place I figure what the hell, maybe if I get him mad enough he’ll kill me outright, rather than torturing me to death.”
Harry’s eyes were wide. “Your father tortures you?”
Draco groaned, then let out a low moan as Harry’s hands hit a sore muscle. “No he doesn’t. Ever heard of black humor?”
“So why did you worry?”
“Cause it will be damned near torture.”
“Draco…” Harry was partially aroused from the small noises Draco
was making throughout the massage, but tremendously worried from the implications
of his
statements. ‘No avoiding it now, Potter, you’re falling. Hard.’
“That’s your problem, Harry, you care too much.” And my problem is that I like it, oh what a pair.
“I’m the good guy, I’m supposed to.”
“Yeah well, I’m the bad guy. I’m not supposed to find it attractive.” Draco turned back around, dislodging Harry’s hands and crossing his arms defensivly over his chest, daring Harry to question him.
Harry, being Harry, took the dare. “You find it attractive? Besides, you’re not that bad guy. You’re just …mean.”
“Well, to be slightly more precise I find you attractive. But it doesn’t matter, does it? I’m mean, I’m a horrible awful git who shouldn’t be anywhere near you ‘cause his father is a Death Eater and is going to kill both him and you anyway.”
“You’re father’s going to kill you?”
“Potter, you are the only guy in the world who would dwell on that when the guy you kissed only last night said he thought you were hot.”
“I am not!”
“Wanna bet?”
“Who else would we find?”
“Harry,” Draco laughed, and Harry started, the blonde’s laughter
didn’t sound nearly as unused as he thought it would. It was just a lighter
version of his nasty chuckle,
but somehow it was…hot.
“Why the sudden change of heart?” Harry murmured, Draco quieted, looking serious.
“I thought a lot last night. Didn’t really sleep all too well. I figured you knew who I was and still kissed me. Said you thought you hated me, but appearently not. I admitted to not hating you. And my father…god, he terrifies me. But I’m sure he loves me, I mean…he’s not entirely inhuman. I thought about a lot of things I suppose. But basically it came down to: I’m a gay teenage boy, can’t really deny that because I’m rather…hmph, horny, and you, my dear Harry, happen to be rather hot. Besides…other noticeable qualities, and for some odd reason I thought screw it.” With that rather uncharacteristic statement Draco’s lips descended on Harry’s, kissing him, not so much like the past night, but hard, fiery. His tongue, not so much lashing between Harry’s lips but coaxing Harry’s own tongue between his own, wanting, slutty, barely controlling the need to pull the other boy fully on top of him.
“I take it you want to try…something, then,” Harry whispered against Draco’s mouth.
“No, Potter, I just forgot to bite off your tongue,” Draco deadpanned, then pulled Harry back into another wet kiss, rubbing his body slightly against Harry’s broader one. They jerked back when they heard footsteps, then sighed in relief after they had passed, but the mood was lost.
Harry sighed. “How long are you in here?”
“Another day at least. So eager to fuck me, Potter?”
Harry choked. “No! I…I just…”
Draco sighed, “never mind. I’ll…I send you some kind of note when
I get out. I…” he shook himself slightly. “I think I want to try and sleep
now. Thank you for the massage.” So saying he lay down and closed his eyes.
Even Ron would have noticed so obvious a dismissal, so Harry headed back
into Emily’s room.
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Aieeeeeee! Slightly different than I expected it to come out...but I think it works. Draco's got Problems! I love writing Problems. Hmmm,....sex, in one of the next two chapters, we'll see.