Written for day fifteen @creature-kinktober prompt Scars. Just a few days late.
@avenueofesc gets the credit for my beta on this one!
CW: description of Scars/UST
Harry Potter has many scars.
The famed lightning bolt scar on Potter's forehead was ever so prominent. Jutting down his eye and ending at his cheek — only fading after Voldemort's end.
Draco never really took into consideration how painful that scar must have been. Always thought Potter was a simpleton with a gaping hero complex and attention seeker — an overall twat.
Now, however...Draco sees so much more.
Harry Potter has many scars, and Draco has only recently begun to take notice.
Potter has silver-spun letters etched into his hand and Draco has never been close enough to read what they say, only knows that they must have been painful.
Potter has a circular scar near his heart on his chest, the skin puckered and dark. Draco sees it while they're changing in the showers and thinks maybe Potter had taken a muggle bullet.
There are dark gashes along his arms, his chest has a few, and his torso has one. It wraps around his stomach, dipping under his navel and ending at the curve in Potter's back.
Draco wants to lick that one.
He catches the thought and blinks it away, doesn't need that to wander further, but knows where it's bound to end up.
Potter is gone for about three weeks — no one speaks about him in the office or corridors.
Almost as if Potter never existed.
When he returns, Draco notices how angry he seems, uncomfortable in his own skin. Just different.
There's a new scar. This one glistening purple in the light, stretched taut over muscle and tendons on Potter's neck. The mottled flesh of this healed wound punches Draco in his viscera — he wants to lick this one too.
Draco finds Potter in his office, shirt half unbuttoned and rubbing ointment on his neck and down the right side of his chest. Draco can't see the full expanse of Potter's skin, but he's never had his mouth water like this.
"You can knock," Potter grumbles, "instead of bursting in here like you always seem to do."
"Always better to keep you on your toes," Draco swallows, placing papers on a desk forgotten, closing the door with a soft click. Potter glances over his shoulder.
Draco walks around to see Potter's shirt opened enough to reveal his chest dappled with hair — and more scars.
Potter is still rubbing his neck, stopping underneath his right ear. The skin pulled, stretched, pale and rippling compared to the rest of Potter's brown delectable skin.
"What have you gotten up to then?"
Draco doesn't want his question to come out a curious whisper, but his tongue is stuck between his teeth and he can feel himself smiling. This is the closest he's been to Potter in awhile.
He can't lick his lips — shouldn't.
"Raids, Malfoy," Potter stops the rubbing, casting his eyes in Draco's direction. His head lifts and Draco swears on his mother's grave that Potter sniffs the air. Sniffs him.
Draco echos and cranes his neck to see more of Potter's skin. He gives in and licks his lips and sees Potter's eyes flash and his head tilt.
Draco's hand is raised before he can stop himself, to finger and flick against this marbled expanse of Potter's neck.
Potter catches his wrist in a vice and turns it sharply causing Draco to stumble closer. The silver scar on Potter's hand is visible as Draco reads I must not tell lies, and isn't that the most peculiar thing he's ever seen?
Draco is eye level with Potter's chin, which has a tiny divot shining prettily underneath Potter's short beard.
It clicks finally and Draco almost can't believe it. He shudders in a breath, swallowing thickly, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
"Have you gone wolfy?" He pokes his nose into Potter's chin and a growl, low and bellied rumbles from Potter's chest.
Draco steps in, closing any distance between himself and Potter's chest. His other hand free, readying to touch the honeyed skin.
"I have to say Potter — no one spoke about you the entire time you were gone. But I know a werewolf bite when I see one."
Potter is quiet and his calculating green eyes narrow.
Draco hums and places his free hand — an open palm on Potter's chest, moving closer to the stretched skin of the bite. Another rumble makes it past Potter's lips, and Draco's wrist is starting to ache from the angle it is being held. Potter's other hand reaches out to stop Draco's wandering touches.
"Can I ask you a question?" Potter leans in and brushes his nose against Draco's hair, behind his ear, lower to his neck. Potter's nose is tickling his skin and sending blood rushing to places of Draco's lower anatomy.
"Have you always smelt like this?"
Draco is sent reeling. He should be terrified and — isn't.
"I — I'm not sure what smell you would be referring to."
Potter moves his hand holding Draco's wrist and he winces in pain. He moves Draco's other hand down his side slowly and bends Draco's arm behind his back.
Draco feels rather stuck and uncomfortable, but likes it this way.
"You smell like..." Potter chuckles softly, cutting off the rest of his sentence. He shakes his head, burying his nose behind Draco's ear, breathing in deeply.
Goosebumps rise on Draco's skin, and being this close to Potter is driving him mad. He pushes himself on the tips of his toes, shoes creaking and biting his lip until he knows it's pouty and pink. He tilts his head to cradle Potter's between the curve of his neck.
His arms are burning from being held at such strange angles. He presses and moves himself closer to Potter's chest. Potter releases Draco's hand from behind his back, but still holds onto his wrist — tightly.
Draco takes this as a welcomed gesture because all he wants to do is touch. He stretches his hand underneath Potter's shirt, finding that deep scar and trailing a finger along the crooked thick skin. He stops and pulls at the hair, eliciting another deep growl.
"You smell like you need...You smell nice." Potter stumbles over his words and if they were any quieter Draco may not have heard them at all.
"Oh," Draco laughs at that and wonders about wolves and smells. His finger grazes along the scar decorating Potter's abdomen again, feeling him flinch with the feather light pressure.
"I do have better ointment, if you need it for your skin." Draco offers quietly into Potter's ear, not wanting to bother the almost slumbering beast nestled into his shoulder, his hand placed over Potter's stomach lightly — not wanting this moment to end.
"Well— I..." Potter cuts himself short, let's go of Draco's wrist quickly and steps back, blinking owlishly and with mouth open. He looks positively gorgeous, but very confused.
"I'm sorry, but yes — I — sorry Malfoy. I do need to...um, need to run."
Draco watches Potter furiously button his shirt, crooked and wrinkled. Blinking slowly, still drunk of touches and the feeling of Potter's skin on his, wondering why this is all ending so abruptly and realizing quickly that Potter has caught himself from doing anything more embarrassing.
Realizing that Potter was taken up in the moment because of smells and touch. Couldn't help himself.
"Yes, right — see you later." Potter blurts and turns towards the door, opens it with a loud bang and sprints down the hall, leaving Draco in a somewhat odd predicament. He's a little angry with himself that he didn't get to see more...touch more.
Seeing as Potter is a wolf now — he'll need help licking those wounds.
