𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Part 11

Wings Eclipsing Night
Part 11: Scribbled Mask
by KC

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry, Draco and all the rest; they'd do a lot more stuff than they do in the books and it'd all be rated R through X. Alas, however, I do not. (Posted before proofing.)
Other info: Post-HBP, dark!Harry, veela!Draco.
Summary: Under Harry's skin.

Scribbled Mask

Lunch on a cloud couldn't have been more wonderful than the picnic Harry arranged. The blanket beneath him was soft, thick, and made the hard, stony ground feel like a bed of grass. The self-serving basket had produced a fine spread with sandwiches, cheeses, apples and grapes, the soda that Harry loved and a selection of chocolates and cheesecake. Hand-fed, Draco licked the last crumbs from Harry's fingers and relaxed, turning slightly to rest against Harry's shoulder.

Wind slid through his hair and blew it into his eyes. Draco shook his head once, pushing his face gently against Harry's shoulder and grimacing as he only made it worse.

"Hold still," Harry murmured. "I got it."

The feel of his master's hand brought a smile back to Draco's face. He turned his head and kissed Harry's fingertips, grumbling low in his throat when Harry went back to his writing.

"Insatiable thing," Harry said, returning to several parchments beside them on the picnic blanket. "I wasn't planning on an outing. I still have work to finish."

Not complaining, Draco languidly stretched out on top of him, resting his head on his shoulder. He had to fidget to get comfortable, twisting around so that he didn't lie down on his arms. He would have wrapped Harry in a tight hug if he could've, but his chains had been drawn so short as to lock his hands against his throat. The position was awkward, but it still let him curl up comfortably against Harry's side.

A cool breeze played through his feathers. Draco opened his eyes just enough to see the sunlight poking through the tree branches, glittering across his eyes. If he sat up, he would have seen Hogwarts not far away--they were on the close side of the lake, listening to the water lap against the shore.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Harry didn't move. "Your wings aren't hurting, are they?"

Draco shook his head. The straps holding his wings closed fit snugly so that they could only lie flat against his back. At first Harry had wondered how to manage it without Draco fidgeting wildly, but the sheer flexibility of Draco's wings let his veela relax.

"I'm fine," Draco said.

He closed his eyes again. Seeing Hogwarts was both familiar and alien--the castle was repaired on the outside so that the scorch marks and blood stains had been removed, but it had never been this empty before. Draco sometimes felt like he was alone with Harry, both of them locked in a cage.

The thought made him look up at Harry. His master looked much more at ease out here, relaxed if more studious as he read a parchment, rolled it up and took another. For now, he looked like Harry, the reluctant student and not Lord Potter, destroyer of Voldemort and ruler of the British magical society.

"What're you reading?" he asked.

"A few of the communities on the continent are worried about us," Harry sighed. "They think I'm going to take them over, too."

Draco thought about it for a moment. The European communities rarely spoke to each other, insulated for centuries and only beginning to open up. Travel wasn't easy when a flying galleon had to be commissioned. The countries still refused to connect to floo. And from their point of view, watching Britain go insane, turn on itself and then see a hero turn into a dictator within days...