The Meeting
It was exactly two minutes before twelve o’clock. “Good,” he thought, “I’m not late.” He had made himself a note that his meeting was at quarter to, knowing that would get him there by twelve. It wouldn’t do to be late for his first meeting with his new mystery client.

One would think that providing protection to the wealthy and famous of the wizarding world would be exciting, but Harry found it to be somewhat anticlimactic. Unfortunately most of his clients turned out to be foreign dignitaries or politicians. In a word – boring. Two words actually, boring and old – every last one of them. Not a handsome arse in the lot so far.

He was escorted to his usual table at the back of the restaurant and settled himself into a chair. He kept his back to the wall and an eye on the door, waiting for his client to arrive.

At exactly quarter past twelve a man walked through the door surrounded by an entourage of what Harry assumed were bodyguards. His new client was visiting from France and insisted on remaining anonymous until the meeting, which wasn’t that unusual, all things considered.

Harry could just see the man’s back as he removed his cloak and handed it to the doorman. Surprisingly, he wasn’t wearing a suit. Harry had come to expect stuffy suits. This man looked anything but stuffy in a pair of casual black slacks and a grey cashmere jumper with a black and grey cashmere scarf wrapped around his neck.

Just as Harry had made his way forward to introduce himself, the man turned around and caught Harry’s eyes in the most intense gaze he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing. The man smiled as he said, “Hello, Potter, good to see you’re on time.”

Shocked wasn’t exactly the right word for how Harry felt at that very moment, but to say that he was surprised would have been the understatement of the century. Dumbfounded, thunderstruck, bamboozled, bowled over - yes, all of those and then some. And speechless, definitely speechless.

Draco chuckled. His bodyguards stared back and forth between the two men, not knowing what to expect, but prepared to react in an appropriate manner.

“So, shall we sit?” Draco looked pointedly at Harry and arched a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Or do you normally have your clients stand around for an infinite amount of time before you’ll discuss business.”

Harry managed to find his voice long enough to ask, “Malfoy, what the-”

Draco sighed audibly. “Can we at least sit first, Potter?” He hesitated before adding, “Please.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry mumbled as he led the way back to his table. Draco sat gracefully in the chair Harry had vacated only moments before as his bodyguards split up and took the tables on either side. Harry simply stared at the scene playing out before him and wondered what in the hell he’d managed to get himself into this time.

“Potter, sit. People are starting to stare.”

Harry sat, still unable, or perhaps simply unwilling, to say anything.

Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of parchment with an official Ministry seal. He sighed as he handed it to Harry. “Here, this might help explain a few things. You can still read, right? Even though your tongue seems to have taken a holiday.”

Incapable of coming up with a quick retort, Harry picked up the parchment, broke the seal, and read the neat script.

Let it be known that Draco Lucius Malfoy is hereby cleared of any and all allegations that have been heretofore made against him. This includes, but is not limited to, any questionable activities and actions occurring before his disappearance just prior to the war of the Dark Death.

It was signed by the Minister of Magic and included both her personal and official seals.

Harry read it twice before pulling out his wand, an act which resulted in eight wands being simultaneously pointed at various parts of his body.

To his credit, Harry didn’t even flinch.

“Malfoy, you can call off your dogs, I have no intention of hexing you before lunch.” Harry glanced at the wand pointed in his face. “I would, however, like to check the authenticity of this lovely document you’ve so kindly provided.”

Draco nodded his head to one of the men and the wands disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. Harry made a mental note to ask later where they had received their training.

“Paranoid much?” Harry asked, before checking the parchment thoroughly with every spell he could think of.

Draco snorted. Harry couldn’t help but notice he even snorted elegantly. How is that even possible?

“Satisfied?” Draco asked as soon as Harry had tucked his wand away.

“That it’s authentic, yes.” Harry rolled the parchment up and handed it back to Draco. “Satisfied with the lack of explanation? Definitely not.”

“Look, Potter, I’ll gladly answer any questions you might have-“

“Yeah, right,” Harry interrupted rudely.

Draco bit back the scathing remark that was on the tip of his tongue and continued without comment. “But I would rather do so in a more private setting if you don’t mind.” Draco picked up his menu and began perusing it with the air of a man who could do whatever he wanted. “You have already accepted my contract and are responsible for my protection while I’m here. Surely three weeks is long enough for you to milk me for all I’m worth.”

Harry’s lips turned up of their own volition. The thought of milking Malfoy for all he was worth was appealing in more ways than one. “Fine, I’ll agree to wait if you’ll agree to answer all of my questions.”

Draco folded his menu and laid it neatly on the table. “I already agreed, Potter, if you’d been listening.”

The waiter chose that moment to interrupt and take their order. Draco, of course, ordered the most expensive item on the menu, along with a bottle of the most expensive wine.

“Why?” Harry asked as soon as the waiter had gone.

Draco sighed. A clear indication that his patience, assuming he had any, was running out. “Why what, Potter?”

“Why would you agree to tell me anything? You said it yourself, I’ve already signed the contract. I can’t legally force you to explain anything.”

“I know.” Draco’s voice dropped an octave and for the first time in, well, maybe ever, Draco looked unsure of himself. “Let’s just say maybe I think it’s time.”

There was a long moment of silence as Harry took a sip of water, watching Draco fidget uncomfortably. “Let’s just be honest and tell me the real reason.”

Draco looked up at Harry, his eyes shooting venom. “That is the real reason,” he said as he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, visibly trying to control his emotions. “It’s just not the only reason,” he continued quietly.

To Draco’s relief the waiter interrupted the conversation again bringing their lunch. The two men sat in silence, both appearing to concentrate on their food as if it was their first meal in weeks.

Harry was torn between curiosity, surprising attraction, and an overwhelming desire to torment his old rival. Curiosity finally won out and he broke the silence. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t presume to know your reasoning or your intentions.”

Draco’s eyes darted up from his food in surprise. Harry looked sincere, but who could really tell; sincerity was practically part of his job description.

“Thank you,” Draco said quietly.

A smile sneaked across Harry’s face. This not-quite-so-cocky-but-still-a-challenge-Malfoy was a bit intriguing. “Well, this is a first.”

Draco looked at him questioningly.

“Harry Potter apologizing to Draco Malfoy, who in turn says thank you to Harry Potter.” Harry lifted his glass of wine as if in a toast. “It will probably make the front page of the Prophet tomorrow, don’t you think?”

Draco’s lips quirked into an almost smile as he lifted his own glass. “Yes, a first.”

Harry nodded his head slightly as they both drank a sip of wine and the air seemed to clear around them.  

Surprises

“I’ve made arrangements for us to stay at the hotel Varno Domov. Fortunately for you, I own it and can easily make arrangements for more rooms. I didn’t know you were bringing your own…” He paused to look around at the eight burly men who were now donning their cloaks. They reminded him eerily of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. “…protection.”

Draco smirked. It was the same smirk that drove Harry mad when they were back at Hogwarts, and it still had a profound effect, only in an entirely different way. Draco simply shrugged. “One can never be too careful. Besides, I half expected you to hex me on sight and ask questions later.”

Harry laughed. If anyone had asked him yesterday what he would do if Malfoy suddenly showed up asking for his protection he would have said exactly that.

“So where exactly is this hotel Varno Domov? I’ve never heard of it.” He shot a warning glance at Harry. “It better not be a dump Potter, or we’ll most definitely be changing our plans.”

Harry grinned. “Keep your trousers on, Malfoy. You’ll like it. Trust me.”

The group took a Portkey from outside the restaurant to a specially designed secure lobby. Draco immediately felt the wards pulse around him and couldn’t help but be impressed. Harry led them through a pair of huge double doors that opened at Harry’s touch. The main lobby was breathtakingly beautiful. Draco’s eyes went up immediately to the Renaissance style domed ceiling with spectacular crystal chandeliers that held thousands of tiny candles. As his eyes travelled down he noticed the detailed gilded mouldings and the many rich tapestries that hung on the walls. Magnificently carved oak furniture was arranged in intimate clusters, and several thick oriental rugs were scattered over the rich oak floors. The luxurious appointments easily rivalled anything he’d ever seen at Malfoy Manor.

The group silently followed Harry to the grand staircase. Draco rubbed his hands along the rich mahogany railing as he went up the stairs and wanted to stop to run his fingers along the detailed carvings. When they got to the second floor they veered off into a wide hallway with several large ornate doors made of the same mahogany. “You eight will stay in these rooms. I’m assuming two to a room is acceptable?” The men nodded their agreement.

“Good.” Harry walked to the first room, put his hand on the door and whispered an incantation that no one else could hear. He stepped back and motioned for two of the men to approach the door. “Put your palm to the door to set the key. Once you’ve done that no one will be able to open the door other than you.” Harry repeated the process with three other doors. “In each room you’ll find specially charmed parchment on the desk. If you need us, simply write a note using one of our names, and the parchment will be sent to us. If you need anything else call for a house-elf and they will attend to your needs.” Harry nodded his goodbyes and turned back toward the stairs, motioning for Draco to follow. The eight men looked to Draco before entering their rooms.

Draco nodded to them. “Go ahead and get settled in. I’ll let you know if I need you.” The men did as they were told, and Draco once again followed Harry up the stairs, watching the many paintings and portraits that lined the walls whisper to each other and scurry in and out of their frames.

When they got to the third floor landing, Draco noticed there was only one set of huge double doors. They were at least eight feet tall and exquisitely decorated with stained glass panels. Harry repeated his incantation of earlier, touching his palm to the door and motioning for Draco to do the same. As soon as Draco touched the door it opened wide without the slightest noise. Draco walked into what he might possibly consider the most beautiful room he’d ever seen.

“We’ll be staying here.” Harry took Draco’s cloak and hung it in the cloak room near the door along with his own, then proceeded in tour guide mode, pointing as he walked. “There are two bedrooms just down there. The kitchen and dining room are here.” He continued walking until he came to a comfortable looking room with a roaring fire. “There are two sitting rooms, this one which, is my favourite, and a second one on the other side of the bedrooms across from the library.” Harry sat down on the sofa across from the fire, pulling a leg up underneath him as he made himself comfortable. “No one but you or I can open the door or windows. We can receive Floo calls from any of the fireplaces, but the wards will allow only us to Floo in or out.” Harry had been secretly watching Draco’s expression change from concern, to interest, to amazement since they had arrived. He was extremely pleased that this time Draco was the one struck speechless.

Draco was still standing frozen in the doorway of the sitting room when Harry finally directed his gaze at him. “As long as you’re in these rooms, not even a ghost can touch you.” He couldn’t help but laugh at Draco’s startled expression. “Relax, Malfoy, I told you you’d like it.”

Draco shook himself out of his reverie, and a feral grin spread over his face. “I do like it,” he offered almost too enthusiastically. “It’s just that… you own this?”

It was Harry’s turn to smirk. “Yeah, I do.” The smirk turned almost sinister. “I also designed it.”

Draco finally moved to sit in a beautifully engraved wingback chair next to the fire. He expected it to be stiff and uncomfortable but he sank into it like he was sitting on a cloud.

Harry smiled. “I designed the furniture too, well not the actual furniture, but the charm that makes it comfortable. It adjusts to the exact specification of the person who sits in it.” He shot Draco a devious grin.” The bed does too; you should at least be able to get a decent night's sleep while you’re here.”

Draco was listening intensely to everything Harry said while his eyes roamed the room, taking in all the minute details that combined to make it so beautiful. “My, my, Potter. You’ve been a busy boy.” Never in a million years would he have expected Harry Potter to design something so spectacular. “The very best of form and function. I have to admit I’m immensely impressed.”

Harry shrugged as he got up to make himself a drink. “I got bored.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up at the casual remark.

“Care for a drink?”

Draco mentally shook his head. He had expected to come back and shock Potter by how much he had changed since Hogwarts. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d changed. “Sure, whatever you’re having.”

Harry walked back and handed Draco a glass that appeared to be of the finest crystal.

“Scotch, Potter?”

Harry shrugged again as he reclaimed his spot on the sofa. “I’ve sort of grown out of Butterbeer and Firewhisky.” He took a sip of his drink and savoured the warmth as it slid down his throat. “Okay, so you know what I’ve been doing for the last seven years.”

Draco’s eyebrows disappeared into his fringe and he couldn’t contain the grin that crossed his face. “That’s all you’ve done in the last seven years, Potter? Destroy a Dark Lord and design a posh hotel?”

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” Harry said with a laugh. “Quit stalling; it’s your turn. Spill.”

Draco stood up and started pacing. He had been looking forward to this part, had imagined many times the look on Potter’s face when he found out, but he was still nervous. It was a secret he had shared with only one other person and sharing it with anyone else, especially Potter, would certainly change his life forever. “What I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room. I need your solemn promise on that.”

“You know I can’t say anything about what you do or say while under my protection. It’s in the contract.”

“I know it’s in the contract, I wrote the bloody thing. I need to hear it from you. From your lips, wizard's honour.”

Harry’s face scrunched up as he studied Draco. “It’s that serious?”

Draco nodded. “Yes, it’s that serious.”

“Okay. You have my word, Malfoy, wizard's honour. I won’t repeat anything you tell me unless you specifically ask me to.”

Draco sighed in relief, as if he hadn’t really expected Harry to agree. He walked to the cloak room and removed a bag from his cloak. After unshrinking it he placed it on the sofa and pulled out a book, handing it to Harry. “What do you know about the author of this book?”

Harry leaned up taking the book and reading the authors name out loud. “Sir William Aertsen?” He looked quizzically up at Draco. “He’s the most brilliant mind of this century when it comes to Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Harry leaned back on the sofa, flipping through the pages of the book he knew all too well. “Without his research we probably wouldn’t have won the war.”

Draco nodded in agreement and sat down on the other side of the bag. “Anything else?”

“Not really, no. I‘ve practically memorized every word he’s ever written, but I’ve never met the man. No one has that I know of. Apparently he’s a real recluse.” Harry snickered. “Poor guy probably looks like mad-eye Moody.”

Draco grinned and shook his head. “No, he doesn’t.” Draco reached into the bag and handed Harry another book.

Harry opened it and gasped. “This is the original copy. This is Sir William Aertsen’s original journal.” Harry ran a finger over the cover of the journal feeling like he was holding a piece of history in his hands. “Where the hell did you get this?”

Draco smiled smugly. “It’s mine.”

It took Harry about ten seconds to register what Draco had said. He looked up at Draco who was smirking. Harry ran through everything he could remember about Sir William Aertsen. No one knew who he was; in fact, no one had even heard of him until about six years ago. There were rumours that he was from France, and Draco had his original journal. “Holy shit.” Harry almost dropped the book.

“You’re telling me you wrote these books?”

“Yes.”

Harry leaned back, letting his head fall back against the sofa and rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. “Holy shit,” he repeated laughing almost manically. “All this time we didn’t know what had happened to you. After Hogwarts and Dumbledore, we all assumed you’d joined Voldemort, but then we never found any trace of you. None of the captured Death Eaters knew what happened to you; they just said you had disappeared. All this time you were on our side?” Harry looked at Draco and visibly cringed. He looked devastated, as if someone had just told him his father was actually Voldemort himself. “I hated you so much, and all this time I’ve been wrong about you?”

Well, he had managed to shock Potter, but this wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d expected. Draco gave him a small smile and shook his head. “Not always, no. Before Dumbledore, you were right about me. I was exactly what you thought I was then. But sometimes death can make you rethink your priorities.” Draco looked at the book in his hand nervously, unable to meet Harry’s eyes. “I’m sorry, you know. About Dumbledore, about what happened.”

Harry looked over at Draco but didn’t say anything.

“I’ve made some bad decisions. I’ve tried to make up for them, but...”

Harry reached out and placed a hand on Draco’s knee. “It’s okay,” he said as he thought of Sirius. “We’ve all made bad decisions.”

Draco looked at Harry’s hand on his knee and tried to smile. When his eyes finally met Harry’s and Harry smiled back, something between them changed. Something irrevocable, and possibly life altering. They sat that way for who knows how long.

“But how? I still don’t understand-”

“I know,” Draco cut him off. “There’s a lot more to the story, but the sordid little details can wait.” Draco reached into the bag, pulled out an envelope and handed it to Harry in much the same way he had the book. It was addressed to Sir William Aertsen. “That came to me by owl last Thursday.”

“The same day you contacted me about protection?”

Draco nodded. “As you can see it gives my exact address. There’s only one person who knows that address, and this didn’t come from her. Open it up.”

Harry opened the envelope, pulled out the parchment and read it. “It sounds like a letter from an old friend. It doesn’t appear to be a threat of any sort, unless it’s in code?”

“None that I can decipher, but look who it’s addressed to.”

As Harry read the salutation again his eyes darted to Draco’s. “’My dearest Draco,’ so whoever wrote this knows Sir William Aertsen and Draco Malfoy are one and the same?”

Draco nodded again. “Which should have been impossible.”

“You said there was one other person who knows. Can you tell me who?”

“Sheba McTuse.”

Harry placed the parchment on the table in front of him and rubbed his face with his hands. He suddenly looked years older. “You’re telling me the Minister of Magic knew you were Sir William Aertsen?”

Draco nodded.

“And she’s known from the beginning?”

Draco had to grin at the expression on Harry’s face. It was something between complete outrage, mild betrayal and ungrudging respect. “So you see why I know the letter didn’t come from her, and that she wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“I’m assuming you owled her before contacting me?”

“She’s actually the one who suggested I owl you in the first place. I needed the best and apparently you’re it.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, or perhaps because of it, Harry gave into temptation and gave Draco a cheeky grin and tried for his best ‘I’m sex on legs’ look. “So you’re admitting I’m the best then?”

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Draco returned the suggestive look without hesitation. “The best at protection, yes.” Draco smirked as he continued, “The best at other things... well, I have heard rumours.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he thought about how much fun these three weeks might actually be. Draco smiled, thinking the exact same thing.

Varno Domov is Slovenian for safely home

The Game

As dinnertime approached, Harry found Draco on the floor of the library surrounded by piles of books.

When he heard Harry enter the room Draco looked up, his face beaming like that of an overly exited child on Christmas morning. “These books are incredible! Do you realize how rare some of these are?”

“Hmm,” Harry murmured as he cocked his head and smiled at Draco’s excitement. “So, you found the rare ones, huh? I don’t think anyone else has made it that high up the stacks.”

“That’s what the ladder’s for isn’t it? I spent seven years of my life doing almost nothing but research, so of course I found the rare ones, Potter. Are you completely insane?”

“Actually, I figured once you found the shelf that held all of your books you’d be so proud of yourself you’d just sit around and gloat.”

Draco’s face almost split in half with a broad smile. “Oh, I found those too. Complete with your handwritten notes scribbled all over them.” Draco pulled a book from the bottom of a pile. “I especially like this one, allow me to quote it for you in case you’ve forgotten.” Flipping through the book he began to read aloud, “Bloody brilliant – the man is a fucking genius!”

Harry blushed as he snatched a pillow from a chair and threw it as hard as he could at Draco’s smirking face. “Shut it, Malfoy. I don’t hear anything brilliant coming out of that mouth now. Or are you only brilliant when you’re writing?”

Draco lay down on the floor amongst the books, dramatically placing the pillow behind his head. “Oh no, Potter. My mouth is quite brilliant too, trust me.”

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed. “Okay, I opened myself up wide for that one.” As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted it. A vivid picture flashed before his eyes of him doing just that, opening himself up wide for Draco’s brilliant mouth. Harry’s blush deepened as he glanced at Draco to gauge his reaction. He hoped that he was the only one whose mind was so deep in the proverbial gutter. No such luck. As soon as their eyes met Draco cackled with glee.

“Oh, Potter, you make this entirely too easy.” Draco was rolling on the floor holding his stomach as if he was afraid the forceful laughter might shake something loose. “The look on your face was priceless! And that blush!” Draco managed between giggles. “I could almost see the panic race through that little brain of yours.”

Harry was so far beyond embarrassed that he figured the only way out was denial, pure and simple. He crossed his arms over his chest, partly in defence, and partly to contain the chill that was running through his body at the sight of Draco writhing on the floor. “Oh, you’re just too funny, Malfoy. Go ahead and indulge your little fantasy. I’m going to have dinner.”

Draco slowly calmed down and decided he could probably wait until after dinner to indulge. “Oh, don’t be such a party-pooper,” he said as he pouted. “This is better than throwing hexes at each other isn’t it?”

That pout was just too cute to ignore, so Harry walked over and offered Draco a hand. As he pulled him up he grinned. “Yeah, definitely better than hexes. Come on, dinner’s ready, and we need to decide what we’re going to do about that note of yours.”

“Oh, joy. Thanks for ruining my appetite right before dinner, not to mention my good mood,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, Draco, but duty requires it. I would be remiss if I allowed you to roll on the floor giggling when your very life could be in danger.”

“I wasn’t giggling. Malfoy’s don’t giggle,” he said tenaciously.

“Humph, right.” Harry waited for him to stomp his foot, but it never came.

The house-elves were just beginning to serve dinner when the two men entered the dining room. “Dobby, it looks wonderful as always.”

“Is you needing anything else, Harry Potter, sir?”

“No, this is perfect, thank you.”

Draco took his seat and watched as Dobby left the room. “Dobby. My father hated you so much for that.”

“Yeah, well, your father hated me for a lot of things, but that’s not a conversation I want to have with you right now.” Harry sat in the seat across from Draco and changed the subject immediately. “Have you heard from your goons yet?”

“They’re not goons, Potter.”

Harry looked incredulous as he dished up his plate.

“Okay, they are sort of goons, but don’t call them that. They’ve been extremely loyal to me and are amazingly talented.”

“Yes, I noticed that.” Harry poured them both a glass of wine. “Where did you find them anyway?”

“That story is not nearly as interesting as you might think. You can ask them if you want, they’re downstairs in the…” Draco wrinkled his forehead. “Do you call that a lobby?”

“I prefer reception area,” Harry said with his best aristocratic tone, which was actually quite pathetic.

“But of course!” Draco laughed. “I didn’t mean to insult.”

“None taken,” Harry managed to say between mouthfuls of food. “What are they doing in the reception area?”

“They’re playing chess. I think they’re enjoying this little vacation.” Draco waved his hand around the table, which was set with the finest china and covered in enough food to feed a small army, or Hagrid, whichever got to it first. “This is quite the spread, Potter. Do you have candlelight dinners with all of your clients, or am I special?”

Harry wasn’t about to admit that he rarely even dined with any of his clients, much less by candlelight. “It’s all part of the service, Malfoy. Don’t let it go to your head. Merlin knows your ego’s big enough as it is.”

Draco rolled his eyes and refilled both of their glasses. “This is good wine. Did you choose it yourself or did you have someone with taste take care of that for you?”

“Ha, ha, you’re just full of the funnies today aren’t you?”

“Full of the funnies?” Draco laughed. “What kind of insane talk is that? Is that one of those crazy Muggle phrases?”

“No, that’s a Harry phrase, thank you very much.” He laughed in that way one laughs at an inside joke. “Hermione says they usually only come out when I’ve had too much to drink, but you seem to bring them out as well.”

With a cheeky grin Draco asked, “Does that mean my mere presence is intoxicating?”

“Yes, Malfoy, I’m sure that’s exactly what it means,” he said it in his most sarcastic voice, but secretly had to admit that Draco’s presence was quite intoxicating. He also had to admit this conversation was getting a little too revealing and felt it prudent to change the subject again.

“So, do you have any theories about who might have sent you that letter?”

Draco looked appraisingly at Harry for a minute before answering. “You know, Potter, I didn’t hire you to help me solve this puzzle, I only hired you to protect my lovely arse while I figure it out myself.”

“Does that mean you don’t want my help, or simply that you won’t ask for it?”

Draco chewed nervously at his lower lip and answered cautiously, “I could use the help, but I honestly wasn’t expecting it to be offered.”

“Well,” Harry leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, never taking his eyes off Draco. “I’m offering.”

Draco graced him with a small, but very genuine smile. “Thank you.”

Harry felt the temperature in the room go up ten degrees instantly. There was just something about hearing those words come out of that mouth that was unjustifiably sexy. He tossed his napkin onto the table and got up from his chair. “Why don’t we have our dessert in the sitting room and take another look at that letter. Two heads are better than one, as the saying goes.”

The edges of Draco’s lips curved up just slightly and his eyes glistened mischievously as he watched Harry stand up. This time he didn’t even try to disguise the lust in his voice. “Yes, that is what they say, two heads are better than one. And I’m sure if we put our heads together we could definitely come up with something.”

Harry paused behind Draco’s chair on his way out the door. Putting a hand on each shoulder he leaned down and whispered in Draco’s ear, “You’re not even being subtle.”

The back of Draco’s head was almost touching Harry’s shoulder and he closed his eyes as he leaned back, brushing his cheek against Harry’s lips. “I’m not trying to be,” he said quietly, and felt the shiver run through Harry’s body before he abruptly pulled away.

“Dobby,” Harry called and the house-elf appeared instantly. “Would you mind serving dessert in the sitting room?”

“Certainly, Harry Potter, sir.”

“Thanks, Dobby. Come on, Malfoy, we have work to do.”

Draco threw his napkin on the table and pushed his chair out a little harder than necessary before following Harry silently into the sitting room.

As they settled on opposite ends of the sofa, an uncomfortable silence spread like a thick fog between them. Harry picked up Draco’s journal and flipped through it, stopping to read a line here and there, then began the conversation as if absolutely nothing had happened between them.

“You know, I still don’t understand how you managed to come up with most of this stuff. I mean, I knew you were smart in school and all, but these books…” he motioned to the pile in front of him. “These are ground breaking ideas, not the ideas of a schoolboy, no matter how smart. You perfected hexes and protection spells people have been trying to figure out for centuries.”

Draco was trying hard to cover up the hurt he was feeling from Harry’s brush off. He kept telling himself that it wasn’t a rejection. That Harry felt this chemistry between them as much as he did; he just wasn’t ready to accept it yet. But his mind kept racing back to that very first time Harry had rejected him and he wanted nothing more than to get up, walk out the door and never, ever come back. He knew though, that he had long since had enough of running away. If he wanted this, and God help him for being a fool but he did, he was going to have to play by Harry’s rules. He took a deep breath, found his Slytherin self-preservation gene, and joined the conversation.

Realisations

“You’re really not going to like this.” Draco chewed his lip nervously, realising he’d been doing that a lot lately. Damn nerves. “I had help from one of the Death Eaters inside Voldemort’s camp.” He paused and glanced at Harry. “I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure it was Snape.”

Harry started to protest but Draco cut him off. “Wait. Before you go getting all self righteous, hear me out.” Draco went to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a scotch. The wine had been fine with dinner, but he needed something stronger for this. He held up the bottle and asked, “Do you want one?”

“Yeah, thanks, I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”

Draco’s fingers brushed Harry’s as he handed him his glass and it took all of his self control to keep from holding the glass longer than necessary. He sat back down on his end of the sofa and took a deep breath. “After that night at Hogwarts Snape gave me a Portkey that took me to his villa in Bezonvaux in northeast France. The Muggle Commune had been destroyed during the First World War and was never rebuilt, so it was completely isolated and under every protection spell known to wizard kind, including Fidelius. Well, at least until Snape died.”

“Wait,” Harry interrupted. “How do you know Snape’s dead?”

“One morning, right after you killed Voldemort, I was sitting on the terrace having breakfast and a parchment appeared next to my plate. It was Snape’s last will and testament, leaving the villa and everything else he owned to me. I assumed the villa was no longer Fidelius protected, but I didn’t find out for sure until much later.”

Harry thought he would be pleased to know the bastard was dead. But if Snape had been giving information to Draco, then Harry didn’t know how he should feel. He had been wrong about Draco; who’s to say he wasn’t wrong about Snape too. “So he’s really dead then?”

Draco nodded, placing his glass on the table next to him. “Yes, but that comes later in the story. Shall I continue?” he asked abruptly.

“Sorry, I just… sorry, go ahead,” Harry said quietly, feeling like a reprimanded child.

Draco pulled one leg up underneath him and turned on the sofa to face Harry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that this isn’t easy for me to talk about.”

Harry nodded but didn’t say anything else.

“The villa had the most extensive library I’d ever seen. It made the library at Malfoy Manor look like a small reading room in comparison. At first I loved looking through all the old books; it gave me something to do while I waited for Snape to come back. At the time I had no idea where I was, or even what day it was, until one morning an owl came with the Daily Prophet.” Draco rubbed his face with his hands and pulled his legs up to his chest in an unconscious effort to protect himself from what he knew was coming. “It was dated the 5th of June; my parents’ deaths were front page news.”

Harry instinctively reached out and touched Draco’s knee. “Oh, Draco, I’m so sorry.”

Draco laughed. Not a real laugh, but a horrid, bitter, sadistically cold laugh that almost froze Harry’s blood. “That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that I knew it was my fault for failing my mission. He was sending a message, not just to me, but to anyone who would fail him. The bastard had them killed at exactly the same time that morning. The morning of my 17th birthday.” As Draco said the words the pain cut through him again like a dull blade sawing through his heart. He looked at the man next to him, the man who had been his enemy in childhood, the man who had become his only hope for justice, and now perhaps the only man who could understand the depth of his pain and his need for revenge. The force of that realisation alone almost broke him.

“There’s no better motivation than revenge,” Draco continued as he ran his fingers through his hair, propping his elbows on his knees and letting his hands linger on either side of his head, as if unconsciously trying to contain the memories. “I stared at the pictures of them in the paper for hours, and I swore on their lifeless bodies that I would make sure the motherfucker who killed them paid dearly for it.”

Draco’s voice was as hard as tempered steel, and the hardness reflected perfectly in his steel grey eyes. At that moment there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that Draco Malfoy and Sir William Aertsen were one and the same.

“You did,” Harry said quietly, barely above a whisper. "I cast the Aboleo Plene curse to finally kill him. A lot had to happen before we got to the point where he actually could be killed. Once that was done, well, then we had to find a spell that he didn’t know how to protect himself against. Most of the Order thought Avada Kedavra would work, but there were rumours that he had found some form of protection against it. Then one afternoon I found that curse in one of your books, and somehow I knew it would be the one to kill him.”

Draco looked at Harry with wide eyes that glistened with unshed tears. “I didn’t know.”

“Nobody did. I’ve never told anyone.”

Draco’s lip quivered as he fully absorbed Harry’s words. He really had done what he set out to do. He really had avenged his parents’ deaths. Maybe he wasn’t the one to actually strike the bastard down, but it had been his spell that Harry had used, his spell that had sent the motherfucker to hell where he belonged. The tears that he had held inside for seven years wouldn’t stay back any longer.

Harry moved the books that were spread out between them, and pulled Draco against him. He felt the tears soak through his shirt, making his skin warm and wet. He wasn’t sure if Draco was even aware that he was being held, but he didn’t seem to mind. Harry didn’t say a word. He just held him and let him purge all of his pent up grief. How Harry had wished for this sort of comfort after Sirius had died, and after Dumbledore had died, and after the countless others that had followed. He would have given anything, anything, just to be held by someone who could really understand the pain he’d been feeling.

Draco sniffled, then chuckled softly and pulled away. “Merlin, a day with you and I’m acting like I’m eleven again.”

Harry let him pull away and laughed too. “No, if you were eleven you would have hexed me the minute I touched you.”

Draco looked at Harry and grinned. His face was blotchy and tear streaked, his eyes bloodshot and puffy, his hair a dishevelled mess, and Harry was almost blinded by how very beautiful he looked. Harry reached over to wipe a tear from his cheek. “How is it that I’ve never noticed how incredibly beautiful you are?”

Draco smirked. “I’m sure I have no idea. It’s obvious to everyone else.”

Harry smiled and let his hand travel from the tear streaked cheek to Draco’s mouth and ran his finger lightly along his satin lips. Draco's eyes never left Harry's as he opened his mouth and sucked the finger in, caressing it with his tongue.

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut and a faint groan escaped his lips. “God, Draco.” He leaned closer, finger still in Draco’s mouth, and touched Draco’s cheek with his own, letting baby soft hair tickle his nose, as he breathed in the fruity scent of Draco’s shampoo and the hint of vanilla on his skin. When his tongue reached out to experimentally taste Draco’s ear, he felt a rush of wet heat escape Draco’s mouth around his finger, and a shiver tickled his spine, settling in his quivering anus. The earlier picture of Draco’s mouth on his arse flashed through his mind and he moaned whorishly as he pulled his finger from Draco’s mouth and pushed him back against the sofa.

Draco let his arms fall motionless against his body and leaned his head back giving Harry a perfect view of his pale slender neck. There was no mistaking what the action meant. Draco was giving him permission to take whatever he wanted, however he wanted it, and the simple fact that Draco was offering it to him was almost enough to make Harry come right then and there. “Fuck,” was all he could manage to say because his throat seemed to close and he forgot how to breathe. He pulled back and looked into Draco’s eyes. They were a raging storm of lust and desire; his breathing was controlled, but barely, and the expression on his face was pure, unadulterated need. All these things were in complete contradiction to his submissive stance. Harry realised he was waiting, waiting for Harry to set the boundaries, to say how much he could have, how far he could take this. Letting Harry know he wouldn’t just take what he wanted, and God that was the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen.

“Draco, I want to… I need…” Harry was tugging on Draco’s jumper. Draco barely had it over his head before Harry’s hands and mouth were on him, all over him. Kissing and sucking and biting and licking and devouring. “Whatever you want,” he mumbled against Draco’s skin. It was all Draco needed to hear. He threaded his fingers roughly in Harry’s hair and pulled him up into a kiss, tasting his lips for the first time.

“Touch me,” Draco whispered as he pushed his stone hard cock against Harry, who was unzipping him before he had time to add the “please,” that somehow came out as a moan at the glorious touch of Harry’s fingers. “God, Harry. Harry, I...fuck I won’t last long...” Draco wanted to make this last longer, but he’d been harder than hard since before dinner and there was no way he could wait once he felt Harry’s rough hand wrap around him. He fumbled with Harry’s belt, not even bothering with the button or zipper as he plunged his hand down Harry’s trousers. Within minutes they were both coming, come shooting over hands and filling the air with the unmistakable sweet, heady smell of sex.

Harry slumped onto Draco, nuzzling into his neck. “Merlin, Draco.”

Draco released Harry’s softening cock and pulled his hand from his trousers, wiping it on the sofa before wrapping his arms around Harry and pulling him closer. “Mhmm,” he mumbled.

Finally Harry pulled back and looked at Draco, his chest still shirtless and his cock hanging wet, spent and beautiful out of his still open fly. “That was… ”

“Unexpected?” supplied Draco with a cheeky grin.

“Yeah, well, that too,” he said as he laughed. “But I was thinking more along the lines of… nice. Really, really nice.”

Draco pulled him back down into a gentle kiss. “Yes, it was that too.”

Harry snuggled against Draco’s chest and laughed again. “Well, it seems we’ve established that we’re no longer enemies.”

Draco snorted, “I certainly hope this isn’t just ‘part of the service’. You don’t do this with all of your clients do you?”

Harry scrunched his nose up. “Eww, no, that’s just gross.”

Draco chuckled and kissed him again. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of kissing Harry. “Good. I like being the exception to the rule.”

“I think you’re an exception to almost every rule there is.” Just as he finished the sentence dessert appeared on a tray in front of them.

“Isn’t it a little late for dessert, Potter?”

Harry’s heart sank. “So we’re back to Potter again are we?”

Draco hugged him close and whispered affectionately, “You’ll always be Potter to me, Potter.”

Harry smiled to himself as he stood up and stretched, watching Draco wandlessly perform a cleaning charm and tuck himself back into his trousers. “Except for when you’re chanting ‘Harry, oh Harry, Harry!’ ”

Draco blushed. “Well,” he reasoned, “Potter’s hard to say in quick succession, especially when one’s body is reaching orgasmic levels. I’d end up spitting all over the place, and that would not only be unattractive but also completely tasteless.”

“Oh, of course, completely tasteless,” Harry repeated as he tossed Draco his crumpled jumper from the floor.

Draco grabbed Harry’s hand with Seeker-fast reflexes and pulled him back onto the sofa, quickly flipping them over so he was stretched out completely on top of Harry. “So what’s for dessert?” he whispered, his hot breath enveloping Harry’s ear. “I’m hoping for chocolate.”

“Uhm…I’m not sure…” Harry’s mind was quickly becoming chocolate as Draco sought out every inch of his throat, placing open mouthed kisses and breathing on wet skin, until suddenly Draco stopped to reach over and lift the cover from the tray.

He grinned as he plucked a strawberry from the plate and swirled it in the bowl of warm dark chocolate, then brought it to his lips and licked the chocolate off. “Mmmm, it’s good chocolate too, taste.” He leaned over and kissed Harry, swirling his tongue in the same way he had the strawberry. Harry tasted the chocolate on his tongue, exploring every secret area of Draco’s mouth until the very last drizzle was cleared away.

“God, I’ve never tasted such good chocolate,” he breathed into Draco’s mouth.

Draco’s heart was ready to leap from his chest and he was so hard again he couldn’t even think – couldn’t think about what he wanted because he wanted everything. He never wanted Harry to stop kissing his lips but he also wanted that beautiful mouth all over his body. He wanted to flip Harry over and fuck him hard and fast, shooting so far into him he could feel it all the way to his throat. But he also wanted to kiss and taste and touch every part of him, exploring and worshiping him and making it last for hours or days. He wanted to devour and own, but he also wanted to savour and cherish. He was so sure of this incredible amazing thing that went way beyond lust and sex, and yet he was terrified that he would wake up tomorrow to find that he’d imagined it all.

“Draco,” Harry said hoarsely, his voice hesitant but full of need and desire and lust. “Do you want to find out how well the charm works on the bed?”

Oh, God did he want to. Fuck. At this moment he could think of nothing he wanted more.

In answer, Draco stood up, pulling Harry with him. He wanted to say something, anything, that would help him to regain his control, but there was nothing to say. He ran his hands under Harry’s jumper and the heat of his skin felt like it could burn him, and he wanted it to. He wanted it to set him on fire like a phoenix until he was consumed and reborn.

Harry pulled his jumper over his head and let it fall to the floor. He took Draco’s cool hands from his chest and kissed the sweaty palms, licking a line along each lifeline before twining the fingers with his own. “I want to see you, Draco,” Harry said breathlessly, “spread out on the bed and naked and hard, just for me.”

Draco groaned as the words wrapped around his cock like a swirling tendril of smoke. Harry led them to the bedroom and watched, mesmerized as Draco removed his remaining clothes, revealing pale skin sprinkled with such fine, white hair it was almost invisible. Draco sat down on the bed and slid his body gracefully up toward the pillows. He spread his arms and legs wide offering Harry everything that he had, everything that he was, everything that he would ever be.

Harry watched, eyes hungrily following every movement, fascinated by the uneven rise and fall of Draco’s excited breaths under his ribcage, the wisps of soft blond hair in each armpit, the perfectly tapering line that led to his narrow waist, the thin ribbon of hair that encircled his navel and led downward into a bed of blond curls that surrounded his beautifully hard, leaking cock. Sweet mother of Earth, it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Harry removed his trousers and pants quickly and crawled onto the bed, straddling one of Draco’s legs. He lowered himself down onto Draco’s quivering body and hissed with pleasure as his erection brushed against a sharp, pointed hip bone.

Draco felt the rush of Harry’s warmth permeate his body, and his limbs and lips moved up simultaneously to embrace every inch of warm skin he could reach. He was amazed at how easy it was to touch Harry and to kiss him, how natural it seemed, like he had always been here in this place, wrapped around Harry like a second skin. He revelled in the feel of Harry’s tongue as it explored his obliging mouth. He was enslaved by the man whose breath filled his lungs and he gladly swallowed each of Harry’s gasps, not caring if he ever breathed fresh air again.

Draco finally pulled his lips from Harry’s and released his grip, sliding out from under him as smoothly as a ghost moves through the air. At Harry’s look of confusion and panic he whispered, “Shh, I’m not going anywhere,” and he draped his body over Harry’s and nuzzled open mouthed kisses onto the nape of his neck, nibbling and pressing his tongue into the firm muscles. Harry pushed up against the weight, and Draco moaned as he pressed his groin into Harry’s rising backside.

Moving his now kissing lips to Harry’s shoulder, Draco slid down the bed as his tongue followed the line of a faint scar to the small of Harry’s back. He bent his knees to avoid slipping off the bed as he lowered his lips to Harry’s beautiful round arse. He cupped each cheek with his hands and kissed and nipped at the smooth white skin. Thinking of Harry’s earlier words in the library, he spread Harry’s cheeks wide and delicately swiped his tongue across the dark puckered hole. Harry released a soulful moan as he turned his head and looked over his shoulder. Draco looked up and their eyes locked as he tasted and explored Harry with his stiff probing tongue. Past and future collided into the fiery inferno of the present, as Draco’s tongue fucked Harry’s arse with all the wanton need of a dying man.

Harry pushed up against Draco’s mouth asking, begging for more, and deeper, and “fuck, Draco, fuck me, please, now, I need… oh, God, please.” Draco leaned back to look at the sight before him, Harry’s face buried in the pillow, his hands fisting the covers so tightly that Draco suspected they would find rips in them later. He slid two fingers easily into Harry who bucked up trying to push them deeper. Harry was no longer pleading, he was demanding, “God, Draco, I’m ready… just fuck me, now.”

“Lubricating spell or oil, Harry,” Draco asked in a shaky voice. “Which do you want?”

“Neither.” Harry shook his head against the pillow. “Fuck the lube, Draco.” His voice broke into what was almost a sob. “I need you…I need you now.”

“Fuck,” Draco whispered as he spread the precome that was dripping in buckets over his cock and pushed gently into Harry’s waiting body and snaked a hand around to Harry’s needy cock. All thought disappeared in a flurry of thrusts and grunts and nonsensical words, until Draco exploded, feeling like he was shooting his very soul into Harry’s body. He felt warm liquid on his hand, felt the muscles of Harry’s arse tighten and within seconds he slumped onto Harry and his whole world blurred into vivid shades of purple, and then went black.

A/N If anyone cares, aboleo plene is Latin and means ‘to destroy completely’ according to - http://www.freedict.com/onldict/lat.html

And yes, Bezonvaux is one of nine Communes in France that were completely destroyed during WWI. Six of the nine were not rebuilt as a tribute to what was lost in the war. I thought it was an appropriate location for the villa. 

 

The Day After

When Draco woke up the sun was shining through the window with annoying cheerfulness. As he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, his mind began to wake up in small sections, like someone was moving around the room lighting candles one by one. Then in a burst of fiery flame, everything came back to him. Last night. Harry. Suddenly he was very nervous about what the repercussions of last night might be. He had allowed himself to be vulnerable, had handed himself to Harry on a silver platter, and now in the bright light of morning he was terrified.

He rolled onto his side to look at the man next to him. His dark eyelashes were still knitted together in sleep, and a shadow of morning stubble covered his jawline. His hair was going in a thousand different directions and his lips were still swollen and red from last night’s activities. In other words, he looked sexy as hell and God, Draco wanted to reach over and kiss him and touch him and devour him and never let him go.

“Are you going to stare at me all morning?” Harry asked without moving a single muscle other than his mouth.

“Maybe.” Draco grinned, despite his nerves. “I thought you were still asleep.”

Harry opened his eyes and graced Draco with a sleepy, crooked smile. “I was, but my body seems to be able to tell when I’m being watched. A useful little skill that I picked up during the war.”

“Oh, sorry,” mumbled Draco, not sure how he should respond to that remark.

The momentary silence allowed Harry time to wake up a little more. He snuggled into Draco’s chest, wrapping his arms around Draco’s slender frame and nibbling at his throat like a love starved puppy. “Good morning.”

Draco laughed at his own insecurities. Harry certainly didn’t appear to be ready to walk away anytime soon. “Is this the part where we feel awkward and decide who should owl whom, and who should make tea?” Draco asked, as he ran his hand along the back of Harry’s neck and twisted his fingers into his messy black hair.

“Mm, normally yes, but it seems you’re stuck here with me for at least another two weeks and six days, so we’ll worry about the owls later.” Harry’s lips travelled down to find a nipple and tugged gently. “We could flip a coin on the tea though.”

“Yeah?” Draco was casual and flippant, but his insecurity was still sitting there, right at the edge, waiting to be pushed one way or the other. “Then what, after tea?”

Harry gave the nipple one last swirl with his tongue and looked up at Draco with sparkling green eyes. “Then, we take a shower and go downstairs to talk to your bodyguards to see if we can sort out this letter of yours.”

Any thought Draco had of running away, for the sake of self preservation, disappeared at the sight of those eyes. Laughing, and affectionate, and obviously happy to be here in this bed, with him. Draco tried for his best reprimanding tone, but it was hard to do through the smile. “They’re not my bodyguards, Potter.”

“Well,” Harry said, with a barely suppressed giggle. “You won’t let me call them your goons, so what should I call them?”

“They’re my security detail,” he said haughtily.

Harry snorted. “Bodyguards.”

Suddenly Draco was on top of Harry, draping himself around the other man like a vine. “You’re my bodyguard too you know,” he purred. “You have to guard my body. I have a contract.”

Harry groaned and pulled Draco closer, finding his lips, morning breath be damned. “After last night, I’ll guard your body any day, with or without a contract.”

“Good,” Draco whispered, as he kissed Harry possessively, before pulling himself off and wiggling out of Harry’s grip. “Let’s go have breakfast. You’ll need plenty of energy for later.”

~~~~~~~

“So who are we having breakfast with again?” Harry asked, his mind still back in the shower, thinking of how heavenly Draco looked with water glistening all over his pale, beautiful body.

“Corin and Evrard. They’re the only members of the detail that know about the letter.”

“And you trust them?”

Draco stopped walking and looked at Harry with intense seriousness. “I trust them with my life.”

Harry still looked sceptical.

“They agreed to an unbreakable vow when they came into my employment. Until I release them from that vow, any action they take to actively do harm to me will result in their immediate death. I’m not an idiot, Potter, nor am I a trusting Gryffindor.” Draco’s lip quirked up just a fraction on one side and he couldn’t resist adding, “Not that there’s a difference.”

“Hey, you prat.” Harry gave him a friendly shove. “I thought we had a truce.”

Draco laughed out loud at this. “Oh, no, Potter. Just because I got to fuck you into the nicely charmed mattress, doesn’t mean we have a truce.”

“No, I knew that,” Harry said wickedly. “I thought it was when I got to fuck you into the cold marble shower stall that we sealed the deal.”

“Well, that certainly sealed a deal, but it definitely wasn’t a truce.”

Harry started to retort but Draco was already knocking on Evrard’s door. The door swung open and the biggest of the burly men stood in the doorway. “Good morning, Sir Aertsen. Corin is already downstairs waiting for us,” he said with a heavy French accent.

Draco chuckled. Corin always was the impatient one. He went on to formally introduce the two men as they headed downstairs. Corin was waiting at a table completely covered with pancakes, sausages, scones, rolls, eggs, fruit and toast. As they approached, he stood up and shook Draco's hand, “Good morning, Sir Aertsen. I took the liberty of ordering a bit of everything.” He waved his wand over the food to cancel the stasis charms.

“Thank you, Corin. That was very thoughtful of you,” said Draco, as he again formally introduced Harry then added, “Now that you know who I am, you may call me Mr. Malfoy if you wish.”

The two Frenchmen shared a glance, and the larger one answered for both of them. “We’d prefer not to, if you don’t mind. Less chance of it slipping out when it shouldn’t.”

Draco nodded his head in agreement. “That’s a good point. I suppose you’re right.”

Breakfast, which Harry had been dreading, was actually rather enjoyable. Corin and Evrard were nothing like Crabbe and Goyle. Harry was no longer able to think of them as goons. They had been very thorough in their investigation of the letter so far. They had analyzed both the ink and parchment, using various spells and potions, to determine its origin. The parchment itself had originated from Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop in Hogsmeade, was of the highest quality, and was the most expensive parchment stocked.

“So, obviously we’re looking for someone who is either wealthy enough to purchase the parchment, or someone who has access to these items in another way. Perhaps someone who works or worked at Scrivenshaft’s,” Harry observed after listening carefully to what the other men had said.

“Perhaps,” agreed Corin. “But our analysis showed the ink actually contained traces of pure silver, which had to be added after it was purchased, and could have--”

“Draco?” Harry interrupted. “Green ink with pure silver added?”

Draco nodded. “Yes, an obvious reference to Slytherin. That’s exactly what I thought too, but it doesn’t help us narrow anything down. It could be someone who was in Slytherin, or just someone who associates me with Slytherin.”

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. “It could be almost anyone,” he sighed. “But we can start by making a list of anyone who would be likely to buy such parchment, and anyone who had access to Scrivenshaft’s for the last, I don’t know… ”He looked at Draco. “Would a year be enough, or should we go back further?”

Draco nodded. “Corin, look into Scrivenshaft’s - start at a year. We can always go back more if we come up empty handed. Evrard, you work on finding out where one would acquire the type of silver that was added to the ink.”

“I’ll arrange for a Portkey that will take you both to Hogsmeade, along with a note from the Minister of Magic that will allow you access to anything you’ll need there,” said Harry with an air of authority that made Draco shiver.

The two Frenchmen nodded their agreement and stood up to say their goodbyes. “We’ll wait to hear from you, and leave as soon as the Portkey is ready.”

“Thanks,” Draco said as the two men left the table and headed for the stairs.

“I’ll owl Sheba for the Portkey and note – it shouldn’t be difficult for her to get without arousing too much suspicion. I have a meeting scheduled with her tomorrow at the Ministry,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair.

“Why do I get the distinct feeling everyone has something to do but me?” Draco asked crossly.

Harry smiled affectionately as he stood up from the table. “You have a very important job, Draco. To stay out of sight.” He pulled Draco’s chair out for him, ignoring Draco’s indignant roll of the eyes. “Speaking of which, let’s get you back upstairs.”

“I’m not glass, you know,” Draco huffed as he got up. “I won’t break.”

“Yes, I know that very well.” They arrived at their room, and as soon as Draco walked in, Harry pushed him against the wall, hands planted firmly on either side of his head and body pressed against him, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, groin to groin. “Even steel has a melting point, Draco. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The look in Harry’s eyes was both frightening and reassuring. This was a man you didn’t want to cross, and Draco certainly liked having him on his side for a change.

“I know what my melting point is, Harry,” he said as he ran his hands down Harry’s back, resting them on his arse and pulling him closer, grinding their hard cocks together in the process.

Harry groaned at the contact and let his forehead fall onto Draco’s shoulder. “What is it then?” he asked, barely able to focus on the conversation.

Draco nuzzled into Harry’s neck and whispered into his ear. “You.”

Disclosures

“I always was your soft spot wasn’t I?” Harry said with a husky laugh.

“No, you were always a thorn in my side,” Draco chuckled, “or a pain in my arse.”

“Mm, I like it when you’re a pain in my arse.”

They both laughed as they leaned against each other, supported only by the wall. “Harry, as much as I would love to spend the rest of the day in bed, you have a letter to write and owl to the Minister. The sooner we get the Portkey, the sooner Corin and Evrard can get to work.

“I hate it when you’re practical,” Harry said lifting his head from Draco’s shoulder to look into his eyes.

Draco leaned in for a languid kiss, nipping at Harry’s lips until his tongue was allowed in for a proper exploration. “Sweet Merlin, I never dreamt you’d taste this good.”

“Mmm… what did you think I’d taste like?”

Draco snorted. “Rotten eggs and vinegar.”

“Hey!” Harry said indignantly, pulling back and looking at Draco’s smug smile.

Draco gave him a chaste kiss, then started into the bedroom where his trunk had been delivered. “Go send your owl; I still have to unpack.”

“Draco?”

“Yes,” Draco asked, turning around in the doorway.

“Uhm,” Harry hesitated, and then shook his head. “Nothing.”

“What is it, Potter?” Draco demanded, crossing his arms and looking every bit the spoiled brat Harry remembered.

Blushing furiously, Harry looked down at his feet. “You don’t have to… but, if you want to… you can put your things in… well, the other room.”

Draco grinned and leaned casually against the door frame, arms still crossed over his chest. “You mean your room.”

“You don’t have to. I just thought –”

“You just thought that since I’ll be spending so much time in there anyway, I might as well have my things there. How convenient,” he drawled.

Harry looked up at Draco, searching his face with questioning eyes, trying to judge whether he was really irritated or just teasing.

Draco watched Harry fidget as he stood there, shuffling his feet and blushing like a school boy. For the first time it struck him that Harry was just as confused about this odd situation as he was. That they were both standing equally on unsure footing, untested ground. He knew this was his chance to take control of the situation, and every instinct he had screamed for him to take it, back away, protect himself at all costs. But why in the name of all things holy would I really want to do such a thing? He walked back over to Harry, and with a single finger traced the lines of Harry’s face, his eyebrows, his cheeks, his lips, memorizing this moment for posterity’s sake.

“Of course I want to, you idiot,” he finally said, smiling warmly at the sigh of relief that escaped Harry’s lips. Harry grinned that same crooked grin that Draco hated so much in school, and Draco found he didn’t hate it at all anymore.

Harry came bouncing into the bedroom just as Draco was hanging up the last of his clothes. “Owl’s all sent. Hopefully Sheba will be able to get the Portkey in time for our meeting tomorrow. Are you just about ready for lunch?”

“Yes, I’m famished. Are we going out?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco. “You know we can’t go out. I’m surprised our lunch yesterday wasn’t on the front page of the Prophet this morning. You don’t need publicity right now, remember?”

Draco shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

Harry flopped onto the bed on his stomach, legs bent at the knees and feet sticking up in the air, crossed at the ankles. He looked like he was twelve years old, contemplating his very first sleep-over. “Dobby’s making your favourite lunch.”

“Oh?” Draco glanced over as he straightened his things in the wardrobe. “Oh, that’s right; he would know what my favourite foods are because he used to belong to me, didn’t he?” Draco said with mock malice in his voice.

Harry rolled his eyes. “He belonged to your father, and I told you I wasn’t going to discuss your father with you. We have to agree to disagree on that one.”

“I would imagine there will be many things we will have to agree to disagree on, yes?”

Harry snorted and rolled off the bed. “Yes, I suppose there will. Come on, we can at least agree on lunch.”

Lunch was, in fact, one of Draco’s favourites. Roast beef with loads of gravy, made just the way he remembered it as a child. “Thanks, Dobby. Lunch is delicious,” he said to the shocked house-elf when he came around to refill his drink.

Harry smiled at him, and once Dobby was gone he added, “That was a nice thing to say to Dobby. I thought speaking to house-elves was beneath you.”

Draco shrugged and looked at his plate. “It got pretty lonely at the villa with no one to talk to. The house-elves were…” Draco paused, looking for the right word. “…helpful. They didn’t seem to mind my moodiness; I guess I gained a bit of respect for the little creatures.”

There was a lull in the conversation. Draco didn’t really want to talk anymore about his time in isolation at the villa. It was a miserable time in his life and the less he had to relive it the better. “So, Harry, tell me, how does one go from being ‘The Boy Who Lived’, to being ‘Hotel Designer Extraordinaire’ and ‘Protector of Old Stuffy Political Types’?”

Harry snorted. “You make it sound like I had a plan.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No, and I think you left out a few steps in between. Let’s see, there was ‘Psychotic and Unstable Hero’, then there was ‘Wizarding World's Biggest Playboy’, then of course, the unforgettable, ‘Boy Who Would be Gay’–”

Draco burst out laughing. “‘The boy who would be gay’? I must have missed that issue,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, well, you’re the only wizard in Europe that did.” Harry ripped angrily at his bread, all humour disappearing. “It had been bad enough getting love letters from women, but blokes are much worse. They weren’t happy just sending notes and naked pictures.”

Draco arched that perfect eyebrow in that way he did, and Harry almost got hard just at the motion alone. No wonder he had been so obsessed with Malfoy all those years. Evil bastard or not, he was definitely hot.

“So what do blokes send to try to impress The Chosen One?”

“Well, let’s just say after receiving my third vial of semen I decided to build this place to hide away in.”

“Semen?” Draco couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m sorry, how crude.” Draco continued to laugh even though he really was trying not to.

“Go ahead, laugh, ha, ha. You didn’t have to live it,” Harry said bitterly. “And if that wasn’t bad enough, anyone I did try to have a relationship with went straight to the papers before the bed sheets were even cold.”

“Ah, so that’s where your reputation comes from. I wondered –”

“You should know better than to believe everything you read, Malfoy,” Harry spat out, suddenly defensive.

Draco clenched his teeth to suppress the instinct to snap back, and continued as if Harry’s tone had not changed. “I didn’t, trust me. I may not have known you well, but some of the tripe they printed in the Prophet was just…” Draco looked up to see Harry watching him with an odd expression. “What?”

“So you’re not worried about being another notch on the Boy Who Lived’s broomstick?”

Draco did that eyebrow thing again and goose pimples rippled all over Harry’s body. “Should I be?”

Harry shook his head and got up from the table. Walking over to Draco’s chair, he leaned down and kissed him tenderly, running his hands through his soft hair and resting them at the nape of Draco’s neck. “No. You shouldn’t be.”

Draco got that insane fluttering feeling again in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to ask why not, wanted to ask what this was between them, where it was all going. But he couldn’t, so he just smiled warmly and hoped it would be enough.

Harry took his hand and pulled him up from the chair and buried his face in Draco's hair, inhaling the intoxicating scent. “Why don’t we finish this conversation in the sitting room?”

Draco was thinking fuck the conversation, let’s finish this in the bedroom, but he nodded and let himself be led elsewhere. He sat in the same chair he had sat in yesterday. Was it only yesterday? It seemed like it had been weeks. He cleared his throat, trying to clear his head as well. “So, you designed this hotel as an escape?”

“Hermione calls it my own personal Hogwarts,” Harry said shrugging nonchalantly. “I call it home. I can disappear here and no one can find me. There are special wards that use the same type of magic as Legilimens. They can sense intent; no one can make it past the entrance if they have ill intentions toward my well being.”

“So if I had planned to harm you –”

“You wouldn’t have made it past the first set of double doors,” Harry finished with a smirk.

Draco grinned. “That’s very clever. I imagine that helps you sort out friend from foe.”

“It helps, but the wards can only read current intentions, not future ones, unfortunately.”

“Still, that’s extremely advanced magic. I suppose it takes a great deal of magical power to set them up.”

Harry shrugged. “As far as I know, I’m the only one who can do it. I’ve tried to teach others how to create them, but no one has been able to duplicate it.”

“So, you really are the most powerful wizard in the world?” Draco asked rather bluntly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I guess we left that one out didn’t we.” Harry glanced at Draco with a look of pure misery on his face. “So now are you going to start treating me like a freak too?”

Strangely enough, Draco could understand the question, could understand the logic behind it. Being a Malfoy had always had its advantages - money, power, respect - but it came at a price. He had been different from birth, separate, feared, envied, hated, looked up to, looked down upon, but never viewed as normal, always a bit of a freak. It had obviously been much the same for Harry.

“You’ve never been normal, Potter, I’ve always know that. Why would this change anything?”

“It always does,” Harry answered, shrugging. “People either become so in awe that they start acting like Colin Creevey, or they’re too afraid of me to be themselves. Most people don’t mean to do it, but they do anyway. Hermione’s the only one I know that still treats me normally. Even Ron has had his fill of being ‘Harry Potter’s friend’. Once people found out what I did during the war, all the people I’d killed…” Harry stopped and shook his head. “Then if they find out how strong I really am, what I can do, it makes them anxious. They don’t want to get involved anymore. I can’t really blame them.” Harry looked studiously at his hands. “I wouldn’t blame you either.”

Draco cocked his head as he looked at Harry. He moved to the sofa and sat next to him, reaching over to lift Harry’s chin so he was forced to look back. “Okay, so now I know what I’m dealing with. I’m sitting next to the most powerful wizard alive, the man who killed Voldemort and countless other Death Eaters–” Harry started to say something, but Draco cut him off with a finger to his lips. “No,” Draco said quietly. “I need you to know that I’m fully aware of what I’m getting myself into.” Harry nodded slightly and Draco continued. “A man who could easily leech my very breath from my lungs if he wanted to.” Harry’s eyes widened with surprise at Draco’s last words.

Draco ran his finger from Harry’s lip up his cheek bone and down the side of his face to his neck. “But you still feel like the same man I touched last night.”

Harry was already panting as Draco unbuttoned his shirt and ran his nose along Harry’s neck and down to his chest, inhaling the smell of his cologne and his skin and his sweat. He licked and kissed his way back up Harry’s chest and neck until he ran his tongue along Harry’s bottom lip and kissed him softly. “You still smell and taste exactly the same, too.”

Harry was leaning back on the sofa, his head thrown back, trying to resist the urge to rip his trousers off and beg Draco to please taste him some more.

Draco sat back and took in Harry’s flushed face, slightly parted lips, and the obvious bulge in his trousers. “You still look just as perfect, just as beautiful to me, Harry.”

Harry couldn’t take it any more – he reached up and pulled Draco to him, lips meeting with urgency and need. He fumbled with Draco’s shirt and threw it to the floor, trailing kisses along Draco’s neck. “God, how do you do that, Draco? You could make me come just by saying my name.”

“Bedroom, Harry.” Draco grabbed Harry’s hands to stop them from fumbling with his trousers. “I want to show you just exactly what I think of you.”

The MInister

“I still think I should go to the Ministry with you. I’m not helpless, you know,” Draco said, facing away from Harry and looking out the window like a caged bird.

“For the tenth time, Draco, I’m not suggesting you stay here because you’re helpless. I need you to stay where I know you’re safe. You know as well as I do, the moment word gets out that you’re alive, the danger increases exponentially.” Harry put his arms around Draco’s waist and placed his chin on Draco’s shoulder, peering out the window to see what Draco found so interesting. “I have the contacts,” Harry said softly. “I know what I’m doing; just trust me on this, okay.”

Draco leaned his head back against Harry’s shoulder and acquiesced. “You’re right. I just hate sitting around waiting. I feel like I should be doing something.”

Harry kissed his neck and nuzzled his ear. “You are. You’re going to make that list of every person you have ever known who could have written that letter. And I mean everyone, including crazy old Aunt Bessie.”

Draco turned around in Harry’s arms and arched his perfectly manicured eyebrow, knowing it would drive Harry wild. “That would be crazy Aunt Bellatrix and you killed her, remember.”

Harry frowned. “Why do you do that? You know I don’t like to think about all the people I’ve killed.” Harry lowered his head before adding, “even if they did deserve it.”

“Because you need to be reminded,” Draco said, lifting Harry’s chin with his warm hand. “It’s not a weakness, you know. It’s a strength. You did what needed to be done, not because you wanted to, but because you had to. That’s your strength.” Draco kissed him and Harry gladly reciprocated.

“How is it that you’ve only been here for three days and you already know me better than most people I’ve been around most of my life?”

Draco shrugged, continuing to kiss Harry tenderly. “I’m just good.”

“Mhmm, yes, you are good,” Harry said as he melted into Draco’s embrace. “But I have to go. The Minister hates it when I’m late.”

For all of Harry’s insistence that he needed to go, he certainly wasn’t behaving like he wanted to leave anytime soon. Draco smiled against Harry’s lips then pulled back. “Be nice to her,” he said firmly.

“Oh, I think she deserves to squirm a little for keeping a secret this big for all this time. Especially from me,” Harry huffed.

“Okay,” Draco chuckled. “Maybe a little but… she’s a good witch. She saved my life.”

“No, Draco, you saved your life,” Harry admonished. “She just went along with a really good plan.”

Draco got that silly, giddy feeling in the pit of his stomach again. Harry had been adamant, each time the topic was mentioned, that Draco deserved praise and respect for the role he played in the war. He had scolded Draco for underestimating his own importance. It not only baffled Draco that he, himself would underplay his importance, but also that Harry bloody Potter was suddenly his biggest fan.

“Whatever,” he said dismissively with a note of warning in his voice. “Without her support I would never have been able to get you the information you needed. You would have never been able to read my books. And if what you say about the importance of said books is true, we may not have won the war.” Draco softened a fraction before adding, “So go easy on her, for me.”

“Okay, for you,” Harry said, grinning slyly as he nuzzled Draco’s neck. “But you’ll owe me.”

Draco snorted, but he couldn’t help but smile as he thought of all the different ways he could pay Harry back.

~~~

“Good morning, Sheba,” Harry said as he kissed the Minister on the cheek. When he had first met Sheba McTuse she had reminded him of Delores Umbridge, but that image had dissolved as soon as she had said hello. Now looking back he can’t imagine where the thought had come from in the first place. She was as different from Umbridge as night and day.

“Hello, Harry. I suppose you’re here to pull the twigs out of my broom for keeping secrets from you?”

Harry laughed. She was as direct as always. “Yeah, well, that and to thank you I suppose. I’m sure you knew that I would have discounted Sir Aertsen if I had known who he really was.”

She smiled in that knowing way that she had. Harry had always sworn she must be a Seer, but she obstinately denied it. “So, how is Mr. Malfoy doing?”

“He’s safe, for the moment, anyway. But the sooner we find out who sent that letter, the better I’ll feel.”

The Minister looked at Harry and he knew immediately by the look that his protectiveness had been too obvious. “It’s good to see that you’ve been able to put aside your differences so easily. Mr. Malfoy must have made quite an impression on you.”

Harry couldn’t prevent the blush that spread across his cheeks, knowing that in the past five years he’d never been able to hide anything from her. “Yeah, you could say that. And cut the Mr. Malfoy crap, I know you two are close.”

Sheba smiled as she offered him some tea and sat in a chair across from him. “What he did wasn’t easy, you know.”

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Yes, I know. Do you have any ideas about who might have sent the letter?”

“I’ve put out some feelers, but have come up completely empty handed. I’m hoping the two of you will be more successful.”

“Judging from the letter, it had to be someone he knew. But how would anyone find out that Aertsen and Malfoy were the same man if you were the only one who knew?”

“It could have been coincidental. Draco used to be very careful to use glamours during the war, but once the war was over he thought it safe to use them less often. He had hoped he was safely hidden in France. I don’t think he ever had any intentions of coming back to Britain until the letter arrived.”

“Do you think someone’s just playing mind games, or do you think it’s a serious threat?”

Sheba sighed as she put down her tea. “I don’t know, Harry. It could be either, but I think we should consider it serious until we find out who sent it.” She stood up and began pacing the office. “I tried to convince him to accept his Order of Merlin in person, you know. I thought he should receive the respect he deserved for his contribution.”

“That’s what I keep telling him. Why didn’t he?”

“Something about ‘leaving well enough alone’,” she said offhandedly, sitting down again with a heavy sigh. “He didn’t think it would be safe, and he was probably right, of course. With so many Death Eaters still at large it would have been suicide then. But now this…”

“It’s okay, Sheba,” Harry said, laying a comforting hand on her arm. He was surprised and relieved to see how much she really did care about Draco. It would certainly make getting information a lot easier. “We need to focus on the present and what we’re going to do to keep him safe.”

The Minister nodded. “Let me know what information you need and I’ll get it for you personally. No one will question the inquiries if they come from me. Where do you plan to start?”

“I need a list of all known and suspected Death Eaters and I need to know if they’re dead, in Azkaban, or still missing. And apparently we can add Snape to the list of the dead.”

Sheba raised her eyebrows in question. “You know this?”

“Draco knows it.”

She smiled. “And you trust that if he says it, it’s the truth?”

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “I do.”

Smiling, the Minister continued, “Okay, give me a day. I’ll owl the list to you tomorrow. What else?”

“Anyone who had a grudge against the Malfoy family. It’s just as likely the note came from our side as it is that it came from a Death Eater. It wasn’t like he was well liked after what happened.”

The Minister nodded as she made notes.

“And a list of everyone who attended Hogwarts during the time Draco was there, even if only briefly.” Harry stood up pacing now as he started to put his plan into action. He had always been better at ‘doing’ than ‘planning’. “Oh, and a list of all pure-blood families that may have had ties with the Malfoys, or may have known Draco as a child.”

Sheba laughed. “Why don’t I just get you a list of all witches and wizards currently living?”

Harry stopped pacing and leaned back against the fireplace. “You’re right, Sheba. It’s like finding a Galleon in Devil’s Snare.”

“If anyone can do it, Harry, you can,” she said reassuringly. “You have the best instincts of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks, Sheba. I just hope it’s enough this time.”

“It will be. Is there anything else you need?”

Harry thought for a minute. “Yes, one more thing. Do we keep records of travel between Britain and France?”

Sheba hmm’d as she thought. “Portkeys, yes, and Apparition if it’s from official Apparition points, but otherwise no.”

“What about business dealings between the two countries?”

“Yes, that I should be able to find.”

Harry sighed as he took his cloak from the hook. “That should get us started then. Thanks for the Portkey. I’ll wait for your owl tomorrow.”

Sheba stood and gave Harry a motherly hug. “Thank you, Harry, for helping him. I know he thought he’d be all alone in this.”

Harry hugged her back. To some it might seem odd that he had this type of relationship with the Minister of Magic, but they had been through a lot during the war. “Yeah, he did, but you know me and my hero complex, right?”

She smiled sadly as she released him. “Is he doing okay, really? This must be difficult for him, coming back with this hanging over his head.”

“Why don’t you come by the hotel and see for yourself? I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

She nodded. “I’d like that. I’ll let you know when I owl you tomorrow. Look after him; he’s more vulnerable than he lets on.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that!”

They both laughed in unspoken agreement as they said their goodbyes.

~~~

“So, how did it go? Does she have any ideas? Where do we start?” Draco began as soon as Harry walked through the door.

“Well, hello to you too.” Harry chuckled as he hung up his cloak.

Draco waved him off. “Hello, yada, yada. Now, what did she say?”

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and kissed him soundly, still amazed at how good it felt. Three days. It had been three days since Draco had walked into that restaurant and turned Harry’s stable, normal, well recognized world completely on its end. They hadn’t had any real conversations about ‘them’ or ‘this’ and Harry wondered sometimes where ‘they’ were going with ‘this’. But Draco hadn’t pulled away and Harry didn’t want to appear too needy or sappy, although he did almost promise Draco the moon on more than one occasion. “Did you make the list?”

“Yes, yes I made the damn list, now… Tell. Me. What. She. Said!”

“Nothing, Draco. She has no idea who could have sent the letter. She’s going to owl me some information that I asked for, so we can cross reference it with the list you made. Maybe some of the names will make you think of something that will help us. Until then, we wait.”

Draco laid his head glumly on Harry’s shoulder. “Wait? Wait for what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Corin and Evrard will come up with something. I’ve got the Portkey for them.”

“We need to get word out that I’m back. Draw them out. Maybe they’ll try-“

“No,” Harry said firmly. They’d had this conversation before. Harry wasn’t going to let him be a target unless it was absolutely necessary.

Draco looked at Harry defiantly. “It’s not your choice, you know.”

Harry ran his hand through Draco’s hair, marvelling at how soft it was. “I know,” he said quietly.

“Harry, this is what you do and you know you’re damn good at it, the best, remember? Sheba trusts you; I trust you. You won’t let anything happen. I know you won’t let anyone hurt me.”

“But what if I did, what if…” Harry stopped, surprised at the sudden emotion churning in his gut. The thought of something happening to Draco now made his whole body ache.

Draco must have sensed it because he ran a reassuring hand up Harry’s back and said gently, “Okay, we’ll do it your way. For now.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered as he nuzzled Draco’s ear then his throat, unbuttoning buttons as he worked his way to dark pink nipples. Harry had learned a lot about Draco in the last three days. He’d learned that Draco had very sensitive nipples and if he bit just hard enough Draco would gasp and moan at the same time.

“Oh, sweet Merlin, Harry,” Draco moaned. “Do that again.” Harry licked and bit until both nipples were like little red embers fresh from the fire.

He had learned that Draco was ticklish behind his knees and on his ankles. He had learned that if he ran his tongue along Draco’s ribs he would squirm. He placed open mouth kisses down Draco's body and traced the perfect pattern of ribs with his tongue. “Mm, God that feels good.” Draco was leaning against the wall for support, head thrown back, feeling like his knees would buckle any minute.

Harry had learned that Draco liked dark chocolate more than milk chocolate, and Bourbon more than Scotch. That his skin smelled like vanilla but tasted like amaretto, and that his sweat and his semen both tasted faintly of sea air.

Draco gasped as Harry took his cock into his mouth. “How did I ever live without your mouth?” Draco muttered, feeling Harry’s touch seep into him and warm him like the sun on a hot summer day.

“Hmmm,” Harry mumbled as he licked and sucked and swirled his tongue just the way he knew Draco liked it. Harry always thought it would take a lifetime to learn all these things about another person. And he wondered how much more he would learn if he could spend a lifetime with Draco.

“God, Harry… please… ” Draco was thrusting into Harry’s mouth now, unable to control the movements, until he was coming, filling Harry’s mouth faster than Harry could swallow.

Draco gasped for air and pulled Harry up to kiss him, to lick away the spunk that was still warm and dripping from the corners of his mouth. Harry groaned at just how fucking sexy that was. As they stood there leaning against each other, lost in each other, Harry suddenly realized three weeks would never be enough.

Promises

“Harry, I really do need to go public.”

Draco and Harry were curled up on the sofa, watching the flames of the fire dance wildly in the fireplace. They had spent days pouring over lists of names, cross-referencing them to try to find relevant links, managing to narrow the list down to the most likely suspects. The Minister had fabricated reasons to send Aurors out to investigate each of them, looking for any other information that might tie them to the letter and lead to a breakthrough. But they still didn’t have anything concrete, only mere speculation.

Harry inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. He knew Draco was right. They weren’t getting any closer to an answer and they were both frustrated and edgy. The one thing that was going right was their ‘relationship’, which seemed to get more intense everyday. Harry studiously ignored the black cloud that swallowed him whenever Draco talked about going back to France ‘when this is all over’.

“I know you don’t want to, but it’s really the only choice we have,” Draco continued. When Harry still didn’t respond, Draco turned in his arms so they were facing each other. “I can’t hide out here forever, you know.”

Harry smiled, trying his best at avoidance. “Why not? I kind of like having you all to myself.”

“You know that ploy won’t work with me,” Draco said arrogantly.

“Mhmm,” Harry said as he leaned in to give Draco a kiss that he hoped would distract him. “Too smart for your own good.”

Draco kissed back eagerly, accepting anything and everything Harry was willing to give. Harry’s hands and lips roaming over his body felt like warm silk, and he wanted to wrap himself up in the feeling and never come out. “You don’t play fair, Harry,” Draco said breathlessly as he leaned back to give Harry more room to work.

Harry smiled against Draco’s skin. “You, of all people, should appreciate that.”

“Oh, I do,” Draco moaned as Harry’s hand grazed his obvious erection. “I have total… oh, God… respect for your… sweet Circe, yes… deviousness.”

“Only you could come up with a word like ‘deviousness’ while bucking into my hand with wild abandon,” Harry said laughing.

Draco pulled Harry closer again so their lips were almost touching. “Shut up and distract me some more.”

Harry responded with only a groan as he captured Draco’s waiting lips and pressed against him in search of friction. “Draco… want you to… fuck me,” he whispered voice cracking with raw emotion. “I’ve never…” Harry stopped himself before finishing - wanted anything this much before, wanted anyone this much before.

Draco reached for his wand and whispered, “Evanesco” and their clothes vanished, re-appearing neatly folded on the chair next to them.

The shock of skin against skin made Harry shudder with anticipation. God, how he loved this. This feeling of Draco’s body pressed against his, strong and masculine and so much like his own yet so different. It was like looking into a negative reflection, black and white, but somehow the same.

Draco whispered the lubrication spell against Harry’s skin and just the sound of the words made Harry moan with pleasure. The slick feeling was quickly followed by Draco’s long searching fingers, finding just the right spot to make Harry howl and writhe underneath him. And it was so good and so right and so perfect and Harry wanted more, so much more. They were so close Harry imagined he could feel Draco's blood racing through his veins, pulsing in time with his own heartbeat, and when he felt Draco’s cock push into him and Draco’s lips on his own, Harry knew this was what heaven was, that there couldn’t possibly be anything better than this.

“Do you know how stunning you look like this?” Draco asked in a sultry whisper.

Harry managed to open his eyes and saw that Draco was staring at him, eyes wide with amazement and desire and affection, and for a shocked moment Harry thought, hoped, he saw something resembling love.

Draco slowed his thrusting, and Harry felt the urgency in his gut reduce to a slow steady burn. “You’re so open when you’re like this.” Draco thrust hard into Harry and held there, catching his breath, still staring at Harry with that look of adoration. “So unashamed, so raw, so untamed, so fucking gorgeous.” Draco ran a hand over Harry’s forehead, brushing back his sweaty hair and Harry could see his hands were shaking. “I could look at you forever like this,” he said before leaning down and kissing Harry ever so gently. At that moment Harry knew, with the clarity of a Seer, that he loved this man. The thought ripped his orgasm from him, making him come harder than he had ever come in his entire life. He was so caught up in his own orgasm that he didn’t register that Draco had come until he slumped boneless on top of him.

Days could have passed before Harry finally nudged Draco gently. “Come on,” he whispered. “I think it’s time to get some sleep.”

Draco lifted his sleepy head and mumbled something about sleep and comfortable and don’t want to move, but Harry managed to get him into bed anyway. Harry curled up around him and refused to think about Draco going public.

Because he knew it would draw the culprit out into the open and then they would catch them. Then Draco would be free again. Free to go back to France.

~~~

Draco woke up to the sound of voices. He dragged himself out of bed and cracked the door open to find Harry sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace, talking to Granger.

“I was getting worried Harry; we haven’t heard from you in days. Usually you fire call immediately after a new assignment just to complain about how boring it is. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Hermione.” Harry grinned. “I’m really good actually. This client is, well, anything but boring.”

“Oh, really?” Hermione said, smiling. “So he’s nice? Not some old, stuffy ogre?”

Harry laughed. “No, not old, not stuffy, not an ogre – a bit arrogant and cheeky, but I kind of like that part.”

Hermione’s smile broadened. “You like him? Is that why you’re still in your pyjama pants at ten o’clock in the morning? Late night?” she teased.

Draco went to shower and left them to their conversation, wondering just how long it would take Granger to lose that grin once she found out who the late night had been with. He was hoping Harry would finish the call and join him, but finally gave up and turned the shower off. He wrapped a towel around his waist and as he left the bathroom, he could hear the voices again, this time arguing. Guess he told her then.

He walked to the door with the intention of shocking Granger even more, but stopped dead when he heard the conversation.

“How can you even help him after what he did? How can you trust him?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

“I do. I can’t tell you why yet. Look, there are things we didn’t know. There’s a lot you don’t know, but I do trust him. I trust him completely.”

“Harry, you’ve gone mad. After what he did -”

“Hermione, stop. I know you mean well, but just… stop. Yes, it’s crazy, but he’s different. Well, not so different.” Harry laughed to himself. “He’s still snarky and sassy and, well, I don’t know - I just like him, Hermione.”

“You can’t seriously tell me you really like him? I mean shagging him is one thing -”

“It’s more than that!” Harry interjected loudly, and then softly added, “A lot more than that, I think.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “You know he’ll hurt you, Harry. All he’s ever done is try to hurt you.”

“I need to go. I don’t want to talk to you about this right now,” Harry said briskly.

“Harry, I just want what’s best for you.”

“I know, you’ve always wanted what’s best and I appreciate it, really I do. But right now what I want is him. If he hurts me I’ll live with it, and you can say I told you so but, just… I need this. Just let me have this, okay? I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

With a swish, the floo closed and Draco moved forward from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe.

“You know, Potter,” he said seductively as he approached Harry and let the towel fall from his hips. “I’m the one responsible for letting you have this, not Granger.”

Harry looked up at the naked body in front of him. Perfect in every way he could possibly imagine.

Draco straddled Harry, his arse fitting perfectly in the circle of Harry’s crossed legs, his hard cock reaching out to touch Harry’s bare abdomen.

“And I say it’s all yours if you want it.”

Harry’s hands slid up Draco’s thighs and a low moan escaped his lips. He stared into Draco’s eyes as his hands made their way to his arse and cupped it forcefully.

“That’s part of the problem though, Draco. It’s not just this that I want.” He pulled Draco’s arse cheeks apart and slid a finger along his puckered hole, petting it with loving care.

Draco hissed and his eyes fell momentarily shut as he tried to push back against Harry’s finger.

“And it’s not just this either,” he said as he moved his hand and ran it around to Draco’s weeping cock, brushing a single finger along the pulsing vein to the very tip and coating the pad with precome. He ran the finger up to Draco’s face, leaving a wet trail behind, and cupped his other hand behind Draco’s head, pulling him in for a brutal kiss. “It’s not even this that I want, Draco,” he whispered against Draco’s lips.

“What do you want then, Potter?” Draco whispered back, already trembling in Harry’s arms.

“All of it, Draco. All of you.”

Draco could no longer contain himself. He threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair and kissed him violently, slamming his hips into Harry with almost enough force to knock them both over.

Harry allowed it for a few minutes before pulling away, leaving Draco whimpering from the emptiness that it caused.

Harry looked deep into Draco’s eyes. Searching. Pleading. Begging. “Will you let me have it, Draco? Everything? Not just your body, not just for three weeks?”

“Yes,” he hissed between clinched teeth, trying to work his way closer, but being held back by strong determined arms. “Yes, Harry, everything.”

With those words Harry relented and Draco pushed him back onto the floor, tearing at his pyjamas until Harry was as naked as he was. Draco took Harry into his mouth just long enough to coat his cock with saliva before impaling himself with it.

“Oh, God, Draco, too tight.” Harry was so far beyond aroused it wasn’t funny, but he had enough sense to know that had to hurt. He grabbed Draco’s hips to stop him. “Slow down. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Draco growled and pushed down harder until Harry was fully seated in him. “Need you,” he whimpered as he waited until his body adjusted to the intrusion.

Harry pulled him down and kissed him, forcing the emotion he had coursing through him into Draco through the kiss. “You have me,” he finally whispered just as Draco began to move. It was rushed and frantic and noisy – skin slapping against skin, grunts and moans of pleasure and exhaustion. Then they were both coming, orgasms tearing through them violently, like a werewolf ripping flesh from its victim.

They lay perfectly still for what could have been hours. Harry could feel the patterns of the floor being etched into his back, and Draco’s weight seemed to increase with each breath.

Harry ran his hand through Draco’s hair, brushing it away from his face to look at him. “Are you okay?”

Draco’s eyes fluttered open and he fixed Harry with a crystal grey gaze. “Yes,” he said as he laughed softly. “I think I might be a bit sore tomorrow though.”

Harry chuckled and pulled him tighter against his chest. “God, Draco, I think we're more intense now than we were at sixteen.”

“Mhmm, but in a much nicer way,” Draco agreed. He tried to sit up and winced as Harry’s soft cock slipped out of him.

He managed to make it up and onto the sofa before collapsing again in a heap. His body felt boneless and exhausted, but his mind was close to spiralling out of control as the reality of what he’d said sank in.

Harry grabbed a blanket from a nearby chest and threw it over them as he curled up next to Draco, just like he had last night.

“Harry?” Draco asked quietly. “What you said just now --”

“I meant it,” Harry said quickly with determination in his voice. “I don’t want you to go back to France. I want you to stay here… with me.”

“You know that won’t be easy,” Draco said cautiously, almost afraid Harry would change his mind. “You think your life’s up for grabs now? If you add me to the mix, all hell will break loose. Granger’s just the tip of the iceberg, you know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Harry said, running his hands through Draco’s hair and biting his tongue to keep from screaming out those three words he knew Draco wasn’t ready to hear. “I don’t care. I want this, Draco. I want you.”

Draco smiled the most brilliant smile. “Well,” he said, uncertainty melting under the gaze of earnest green eyes. “I’ve never been one to run away from trouble.”

Harry snorted. “I’m not sure I agree with that, but does that mean you’ll stay?”

“I think I’d stay just to see the look on the weasel's face when you tell him.”

“Merlin, you’re a brat,” Harry teased, relief written all over his face.

“Yes, but I’m your brat now,” Draco said, sounding completely sappy and not caring at all.

Harry snuggled into Draco and breathed in the scent of his hair. He’d never felt this happy. This elated. This lucky.

The Plan

“It’s almost time for lunch. We should probably get dressed,” Harry said, still snuggling under the blanket on the sofa, and feeling drunk with elation from their earlier conversation. He’s not going back. Harry was almost giddy at the thought.

“Okay, but then can we take a break from those damn lists? I’m starting to go blind and I don’t see how we can learn more than we already have.”

“Sheba sent over a few new ones this morning while your lazy arse was still in bed.”

“Well,” Draco said silkily as he raked a hand though Harry’s tousled hair. “If you hadn’t kept me up until the wee hours of the morning, I wouldn’t have been so tired.”

Harry chuckled into Draco’s hair and let it tickle his nose. “You weren’t complaining last night.”

“No, and I’m not complaining now either. I’m simply stating that I need my beauty sleep, and if I don’t get it at night, I’ll get it during the day.”

“Beauty sleep, eh? So that’s your secret,” Harry teased as he swept Draco's hair away from the side of his neck and started nibbling.

“Oh, I have many secrets, Potter. And if you think those kisses are getting you anything else today you are gravely mistaken. After this morning I can scarcely move.”

Harry sniggered. “There are healing charms for that you know. Besides, if we aren’t working today, we have loads of time to kill.”

Draco was quiet for a few minutes and then, as if coming to some sort of internal decision, said, “Why don’t we have dinner with Granger tonight? Sort of a coming out party.” Draco grinned mischievously.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco, trying to decide if he was irritated or pleased. He was thrilled that Draco wasn’t afraid to be publicly open about their relationship, but he knew this was his back-handed, Slytherin way to get Harry to agree to going public about being back. Well, two can play that little game. He had, ironically enough, already decided that announcing Draco’s return had become a necessity. But if Draco thought he’d tricked Harry into it, his conscience might make him more watchful of trouble.

“Okay.”

Draco’s cool façade faltered and he couldn’t hide his surprise. “Okay? Just like that?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Yes, okay. We try it your way. But if you get yourself killed, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I can’t get myself killed now,” Draco said with a grin. “I’ve just snagged the great Harry Potter. I need plenty of time to flaunt that before I die.”

Harry shook his head. “You really are a brat, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Draco said smiling, his eyes sparkling with glee.

After they had dressed and had lunch, Harry walked to the fireplace and reached for the Floo Powder. Within seconds Hermione’s face appeared, smiling as soon as she saw him. “Harry! I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“I thought you might like to have dinner with us tonight at Tritons.”

Hermione’s smile faded. “Us?”

“Yes, us,” Harry answered, glancing deviously at Draco. “Draco has a few things he would like to explain to you himself.”

“Humph,” Draco grunted loudly.

“Harry, I don’t think Malfoy has anything to say that I care to hear.”

“Oh, but I think he does, Hermione,” he said somewhat forcefully. Then his voice softened. “I think you owe it to me to at least listen.”

Hermione huffed but agreed. “Fine, I’ll be at Tritons at seven o’clock. But I’m doing this for you Harry, not for him.”

Before Harry could respond she was gone. “Well, that went well,” he murmured.

Draco immediately rounded on Harry, arms crossed and face hard as stone. “And what exactly am I supposed to explain?”

Harry was taken aback by how much he looked like he had in school. Well, Malfoy didn’t intimidate him then, and Draco certainly wasn’t going to intimidate him now. “If you’re going public, you go public all the way,” Harry said, crossing his arms and looking just as stubborn and fierce as Draco did. “No more hiding behind Sir William Aertsen. The world gets to know who you really are.”

The parade of emotions that marched across Draco’s face was almost humorous. White fury, irritation, astonishment, fear, and then finally, relief. Draco’s aggressive stance deflated and he stood before Harry looking totally exposed.

Harry quickly crossed the room and held him tight.

“I’m not sure if I can do it, Harry, not for the whole world to see. I think in my mind we are two separate people.”

“No, you’re not, Draco. You are the brilliant man who wrote those books. You are the man whose work earned him an Order of Merlin. You’re not just a Malfoy anymore, Draco.”

Draco looked up at Harry and saw the pride shining in those bright green eyes and couldn’t help but wonder if that would disappear once the rest of the world made their opinions known. He hoped not. “Okay.”

No one seemed to notice them as they walked into the restaurant. They took Draco’s ‘security detail’ just in case. Corin and Evrard were still in Hogsmeade, but Harry had still insisted that eight wands were better than two. They sat much as they had at their first meeting, only Harry was next to Draco instead of across from him. Tritons was one of the many new, trendy restaurants that had popped up after the war. It catered mostly to the younger crowd and Harry hoped they wouldn’t see anyone they knew. Not until his plan was in place anyway.

Hermione spotted Harry immediately and rushed forward to give him a hug, only to stop dead as soon as she caught sight of Draco.

Harry reached out instead and squeezed her hand. “Sit, Hermione. We have a lot to talk about.”

She sat without saying a word and without taking her eyes off Draco, studying him like she would an escaped Blast-Ended Skrewt. Draco couldn’t help but sneer at her unabashed rudeness.

Harry looked from one to the other for a minute and burst out laughing. Both Draco and Hermione turned to him and stared.

“Sorry,” he said between laughs. “I know this is awkward for both of you, but you just look hilarious.”

Draco huffed and crossed his arms and Hermione glared unblinkingly at Harry.

After regaining his composure, he apologized to Hermione and leaned over and kissed Draco. “I’m sorry,” he said tenderly. “I know it’s nothing to laugh about.”

Draco visibly relaxed and leaned into Harry to kiss him back. “It’s all right. I suppose it did look a little childish,” Draco said, allowing a small laugh to escape.

Harry smiled warmly at Draco, his face full of affection, before turning his attention back to Hermione, who had been watching the exchange like one would watch a train wreck. “As I said this morning, there are things that we didn’t know about.”

“What things could possibly have lead to this?” she asked, motioning between the two of them.

“Well, that’s a long story, but what you need to know now is that Draco’s been on our side for seven years now. That he was key to actually winning the war.”

“Right, Harry. You really believe that?”

Harry was taken aback by the harshness of her voice and immediately became defensive. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. And I certainly don’t think the Minister of Magic would lie about it. Do you, Hermione?” he asked coolly.

Hermione’s retort died on her lips. “Why don’t you just start at the beginning?”

Harry smiled, knowing he had already won.

“You would agree with me if I said Sir William Aertsen’s work played an important role in us being able to win the war, right?”

“Of course I would. Half the new hexes and protective spells we used came from his books. The man is –”

Harry thought it best to cut her off when he saw Draco smirking. “Hermione, before you say anything too inoffensive, you should know that…” He paused when he realized he couldn’t say anymore. Then he remembered his promise. He turned to look at Draco who was watching him with curiosity. “I can’t tell her without your permission.”

“What?” Draco looked confused until he, too, remembered the promise. “Oh, sorry, go ahead, you can tell her.”

The rest of the conversation went along the same lines as Draco’s earlier conversation with Harry, only Harry did most of the talking this time. The waiter came and went as he explained about the villa in France. The food was delivered, but Draco lost his appetite when Harry talked about the article with his parents’ deaths.

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I remember that article. It was horrible! I…” She looked at Draco with sympathy, as if she had forgotten who he was, and when she remembered, it was all she could do to continue. “I… I’m sorry, Malfoy, about… you know.”

Draco nodded and felt Harry’s arm slip behind him and curl around his waist. Just the touch calmed the queasy feeling in his stomach, and Draco noticed the memories were less painful this time. Maybe because Harry had told the story instead of him, or maybe there really was some truth to the old saying ‘share a trouble and it halves, share a joy and it doubles’. His happiness certainly had doubled lately. Doubled? Hell, it had more than doubled, and Draco was afraid he was quickly becoming addicted to the feeling. Can you become addicted to a person? He wondered absently, no longer paying attention to the conversation.

“I can’t believe the Minister knew all along…” Hermione was saying, but it seemed like she was far away because Draco could feel Harry’s warm breath on his ear as he whispered, “Are you alright?” One side of Draco’s lip curved in an almost smile and he nodded. He could hear Granger’s voice droning on, but he had no idea what she was saying because Harry was drawing uneven circles in the small of his back, then down his leg and up the inside of his thigh. And just as Draco realized how painfully hard he was, the waiter brought dessert, and in the process brought Draco back to reality. He grabbed Harry’s hand and sent him a warning look that lost its effect as soon as he saw the look of desire in Harry’s eyes. Twining their fingers together he lifted their hands to the table and refocused his attention on Granger’s rant.

“I mean, honestly, what if something had happened to her. Who would have known? It could have been disastrous.”

What was she talking about anyway? Draco wondered, but apparently Harry had been following along because he jumped right in. “It doesn’t matter, Hermione. It all worked out. Except that someone found out.” He continued to tell Hermione about the letter and his concern for Draco’s well being. There was a long pause, like at the end of a play, right before the audience bursts into applause, though Draco knew there would be little applause for the drama that was his life.

“Okay,” she said finally. “That does explain a lot, but it still doesn’t explain this.” She motioned to the entwined hands on the table in front of her.

The two men glanced at each other and Harry grinned from ear to ear. “This was, shall we say, an unexpected turn of events.” Harry smiled at Draco then added, “A windfall.”

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the tiny smile that played at the corner of his lips. He wasn’t a foolish Gryffindor that let every emotion show on his face, and he certainly wasn’t going to act like a love sick puppy, but on the inside, he was grinning just as widely as Harry was.

Hermione studiously ignored Harry’s grin and frowned. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Well,” Harry said cautiously. “For one thing you’re my best friend and I wanted you to know.”

“Ron and I are your best friends,” Hermione corrected and Harry ignored it.

“For another, I’ve asked Draco to go public about his identity and I thought your connections at the Prophet might help us get an accurate story out.”

“Connections?” Draco asked.

“Hermione’s the assistant editor of the Prophet."

This time Draco couldn’t hide his surprise. “They’ve printed all that nonsense about Harry and you’re the editor?”

“Assistant is the key word, Malfoy,” she snapped. “You’d be amazed at what I have managed to keep out of the paper.”

“So you’ll help us then?” Harry interrupted.

“Us?” Hermione asked disbelievingly. “You mean ‘him’ don’t you? How will this help you, Harry? Once the papers cotton on to this…” Again she motioned to their entwined hands, this time as if they were spoiled fruit. "The Prophet will have a field day and nothing I say will stop it.”

Harry said nothing, but he smiled and ran his thumb over the back of Draco’s hand.

“Is he really worth it, Harry?”

Harry’s smile faded into a bitter sneer and he shot Hermione a quelling look. “Is my happiness worth it to you, Hermione?”

She had nothing to say to that. In her mind, the two weren’t even remotely related.

“I’d like to think you’re with me on this Hermione. Will you help us or not?”

“Fine,” she said tonelessly. “If it’s really this important to you, I’ll help. I can contact Stephen Jefferson to do an interview. At least I know he’s an honest reporter, and he didn’t go to Hogwarts so he won’t be biased. Past that, there’s not much more I can do.”

Harry reached across the table and took Hermione’s hand and smiled. “Thank you.”

Glancing between the two men in front of her she shook her head, then directed a calculating glare at Draco. “Don’t make me regret this, Malfoy. If you hurt him -”

“I’m not going to hurt him, Granger.” Draco interrupted, his voice as warm as Hermione had ever heard it. “I know my word means very little to you, but it means everything to me. I give you my word that I won’t hurt him.”

Draco looked at Harry and something in the look made Hermione shiver. Could it be possible he actually means it? She wondered. Sighing heavily, and feeling like somehow she’d lost a very important battle, she prepared to leave. “Are you planning on telling Ron before it hits the papers?”

Harry flinched.

“I suppose it would be wise. But…”

“Harry, he’s your best friend.”

“We both know he hasn’t been supportive of my choices lately.”

Draco looked back and forth between the two of them, puzzled. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on here?”

Harry rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and looked at Hermione like he was asking permission to say something, but she just looked away.

“Ron doesn’t approve of my lifestyle.”

“Harry, it’s more than that and you know it!” Hermione interjected.

“No, it’s not, Hermione. He doesn’t like that I’m gay. He thinks it makes me some sexual deviant, and that I should hide behind a stupid superhero mask and tell the world I’m straight. I’m sorry Hermione, but I won’t do it. Not even for him.”

Draco almost laughed. If it hadn’t been for the pain in Harry’s eyes he would have. Instead he turned Harry’s face to him with a gentle hand and kissed him forcefully, leaving no room to question whether or not Harry was gay. When he was done he smiled and whispered into Harry’s ear, “You are a sexual deviant, you know.”

Harry adjusted his trousers uncomfortably and laughed, forgetting all about Hermione and Ron. “And you’re just as mean as you’ve always been, you git.”

The sound of Hermione clearing her throat made Harry blush, which made Draco laugh harder.

“God, Harry, are you a bloody virgin or what? Haven’t you ever snogged in public?”

“No!” Harry and Hermione said in unison.

“Gryffindors,” Draco said, shaking his head.

“That has nothing to do with it, Malfoy. Harry has to be careful; his reputation is at stake. He can’t just--”

“Have you ever snogged in public, Granger?”

“Well, of course, but…”

“So you don’t worry about your reputation?”

“It’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because… It just is.”

“Draco, it is different. You yourself said the press would hound me about this.”

“Yes, I did, and you said you didn’t care.” Draco was perfectly calm on the outside but on the inside he was fuming. If all it took was Granger to make Harry back down, they didn’t stand a chance.

“I don’t, but there’s no reason to make a scene. It will be bad enough without pictures of us snogging plastered all over the front page.” Harry knew immediately it had been the wrong thing to say, so he reached over and ran his hand down Draco’s face and tugged gently on a strand of hair. “Let’s go home.”

Hermione hesitated and then stood. She had been given a lot to think about and needed some time to process it all. “I’ll Floo call about the interview when I get it scheduled. And I’ll… I’ll talk to Ron. I think it would be better if he heard this from me.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a nod.

Just as Hermione turned her back Draco said, “Granger?” Hermione stopped and turned. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, surprised by the knowledge that he really meant it.

Hermione nodded and walked away without another word.

Complications

The next morning Harry opened his eyes to a flutter of messages hovering over his head. He snatched them out of the air, and tried hard not to wake Draco as he read.

“Mmm, love letters?” Draco asked in a sleepy voice as he stretched like a waking panther.

“Well,” Harry said as he handed one of the messages to him. “If Evrard and Corin are sending you love letters, I’ll need to have a talk with them.”

Draco took the note, grinning as he sat up to read it. “They’re back. They want to meet us this morning for breakfast.

“Great. Hermione’s set up the interview for just after lunch. Apparently the reporter she had suggested is unavailable, but she says she’s found a suitable replacement. It looks like today will be a busy day.” Harry started to get up but found himself being pulled back into bed by a warm, insistent hand.

“We have a little time, don’t we?” Draco’s voice was deep and serious and Harry’s heart rate immediately quickened.

“Yeah, I’d say we have a little time.” He climbed back under the covers where Draco draped a long slender leg over him. “I won’t have you all to myself for the whole day.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?” Harry whispered into his ear, kissing him gently.

“I was never mad,” Draco said, a little defensively. “I was disappointed.”

“Draco, I…” Harry ran his hand down Draco’s side and caressed his hip in what he hoped would be considered an affectionate gesture. “You know it’s not that I don’t want to be seen kissing you. I just don’t want what we have turned into a front-page scandal. They’ll twist it into something it’s not and that won’t do either of us any good.”

Draco lay back with an exasperated huff. “I know.” Draco reluctantly looked up into Harry’s eyes. He was still a little angry and hurt, but he wasn’t sure exactly why. He wanted very much to reach up and bring Harry into his arms and tell him none of it mattered. To take him far away from the press and the pressure of being The Boy Who Lived. To run as far away from the letter and danger as they could get. To hide where no one could find them, so it could just be the two of them forever. But that wasn’t how life worked. He felt like he was navigating in the dark and he wasn’t sure which way to turn. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “It’s your life; I can’t tell you how you should live it.”

“You’re not,” Harry insisted. “You're just… braver than I am, I think.”

Draco snorted. “Let’s see, Harry Potter, the man who killed Voldemort, and Draco Malfoy, the man who ran away to France and hid for seven years. Yes, I can see that I’m so much braver than you are.”

“It’s easy to be brave when facing the people you hate; it’s the people you like that are the problem.”

“You mean like Weasley?” Draco asked, studying Harry’s face and feeling a familiar pang of jealousy.

“Yeah, all the Weasleys, and Remus, and everyone that fought with me in the war, really. Plus all those adoring fans that love me as long as I stay in the little box they’ve put me in, but will turn against me the minute I step out. When I have to face them, I’m a complete coward.”

Draco wanted to scream or hex Harry to within an inch of his life. If this were anyone else, he would tell him in no uncertain terms to fuck off. But this wasn’t anyone else; this was Harry. The only person who had ever made him feel. When they were younger, Harry made him feel hate and jealousy. During the war Harry had made him feel hope. Now Harry made him feel something entirely different and foreign but wonderful at the same time. “You asked me to trust you. You asked me to give you everything that I am, and I will, I...” Draco took a deep breath as the full extent of what he was saying sunk in. “I already have, Harry. But if you can’t stand up to them, this will never work.”

Harry laid his head against Draco’s shoulder. “I can. I will, I promise. I just… I guess I need to ease into it. This all happened so fast, I just need to take this part slowly. Is that okay? Can we do that?”

“And what if I say no? What if I say we do it all the way or we don’t do it at all?”

The reality of what Draco was saying ripped the air out of Harry’s chest. He wouldn’t allow his weakness to ruin this. He’d given so much for others during his life; he wouldn’t let anyone take this away from him. He looked up at Draco resolutely and grinned. “Then we get dressed and go have sex in the lobby of the Daily Prophet.”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh. He pulled Harry to him and held him has tightly as he dared. “I don’t think that will be necessary, hero, but thanks for offering.”

Harry deposited a line of feather light kisses up and down Draco’s throat, trying to show him how sorry he was for being afraid. The feel of Draco’s skin against his own ignited a fire deep within him. A fire he knew came from more than lust and desire. His hands roamed Draco’s face, his neck, his shoulders, mapping and memorizing every dip and curve. When their lips finally met, it was forceful and possessive. Harry wanted Draco to know that no matter what the world saw, this was what mattered, just the two of them, together.

It didn’t take long before fear was the last thing on Harry’s mind. Draco flipped him onto his back and left a path of love bites and teeth marks down Harry’s chest and stomach until there was nothing in his mind, nothing in the world at all, except for Draco and the incredible things he was doing with his tongue. Harry wanted to buck into Draco’s mouth, to feel more of that warm wetness, but he was held to the bed by a firm grip. Just when he was close to orgasm, Draco would slow down and pull back until the fire in Harry’s gut lessened. Then Draco would start all over again and all Harry could do was whimper, and whimper he did, begging for release, begging Draco to let him come. Harry had never begged for anything. Voldemort had captured him and tortured him for days, and still he wouldn’t beg. They had starved him for over two weeks, but still he wouldn’t beg. But this, this was torture of the most exquisite kind, and Harry would beg forever if it meant Draco would never stop. By the time Harry finally came he hardly knew his own name, but he could hear his voice chanting Draco’s over and over.

~~~

“So, you have information?” Draco asked abruptly as he sat in the chair next to Evrard.

Corin stifled a laugh as he said, “Good morning to you too, boss.”

Draco’s lip twitched, but he refused to smile. Corin and Evrard had been with him almost from the beginning. They knew him better than he would ever admit, and they were as close to friends as he would ever let himself get. “I’d say that depends on what you have to tell me.”

Harry had to laugh. It amazed him how Draco could be so hot and sexy one minute, and so businesslike the next. It not only amazed him, but it made him want to drag the man back up to their room and postpone breakfast for yet another hour.

Evrard started in on his report right away. This was obviously a routine they were all familiar with. “No luck on the parchment. Scrivenshaft’s keeps pathetic records of their customers, and even more pathetic records of their inventory. But we do have some interesting information on the ink.”

“The silver that was added is usually found in potions, but it is currently illegal throughout all of Europe. It is laced with a poison that, if ingested, will kill within seconds,” Corin added.

Harry looked at Draco cautiously, his heart racing in his chest. “So, I guess it’s safe to say it wasn’t just a friendly letter then.” He had been sure the letter had been a threat, but to have it confirmed made him even more worried. And from all indications, this was personal, which made whoever sent it the worst kind of enemy.

“It’s also probably safe to say we were correct in assuming we’re dealing with a Slytherin. A very clever Slytherin,” Draco said, as he returned Harry’s gaze with a worried look of his own.

“And a wealthy one,” added Evrard. “This type of ingredient is not only illegal, but also rare and extremely expensive. To use it in an ink, where it has no possibility of being ingested, was a waste of a very valuable resource. Only someone with plenty of gold would be so wasteful.”

“And where would one acquire such a rare, expensive and illegal substance?” Draco questioned.

“From what we’ve been able to ascertain, there’s only one place that might be able to get it, and you would need well placed connections, even then.”

“Elixirs et Alambics,” Evrard added with a touch of awe in his voice.

Harry looked at the three men questioningly.

“It’s the Borgin and Burkes of Paris,” Draco explained to Harry. “Only they specialize in rare or hard to find ingredients. They’re located on the Impasse des Ombres; the place makes Knockturn Alley look like an ice cream shop.” Draco pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. If whoever sent the letter was a customer of Elixirs et Alambics, he wasn’t some petty prankster. This had suddenly become much more serious.

~~~

“Lunch is served, Harry Potter, sir.”

“Thank you, Dobby. Have you seen Draco?”

“Yes, sir, he is in the library. And he is not looking very pleased when I popped in to tell him lunch is served,” Dobby said with watery eyes.

“Sorry, Dobby.” Harry tried to console the little elf by laying a hand on his shoulder. “It hasn’t been the best morning for him.”

Dobby nodded vigorously before he disappeared. Harry took a deep breath before heading to the library. He’d much rather face an irritated dragon than Draco at the moment. The news from Corin and Evrard had left them both feeling a bit frazzled. Harry found him hunched over a table scribbling furiously. Wadded pieces of parchment lay all over the table and the floor next to his chair.

“Writing letters to your pen pal?” Harry asked jovially.

“What the hell is a pen pal?” Draco barked.

Harry walked behind him and started massaging his shoulders. They were so tense Harry got the impression he was kneading stone. “Never mind. What are you doing?”

“I’m writing my memoirs,” Draco said sarcastically.

Harry narrowed his eyes and sat down at the table. “You don’t have to be such an arse. It was a simple question.”

Draco slammed the quill on the table and looked up at Harry apologetically. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was trying to write out my story for the interview. I thought it would be easier than telling it to a complete stranger. I guess I was wrong.”

Harry took both of Draco’s hands and brought them to his lips to kiss them. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous.”

“I’m not nervous… okay, I am nervous, but I just… I don’t know if I can go through with this.”

Scooting his chair closer to Draco’s, Harry wrapped his arms around him. “You’ll be fine. Just tell it the way you told me. This isn’t Rita Skeeter, remember. He’s on our side.”

“There are no sides with the press, remember? There’s only a story. And what if he asks questions I don’t want to answer? What if he starts asking about my parents and their involvement in the war? What if he asks about Dumbledore? What can I say to defend myself against what I did? Harry, no matter what I’ve done in the last seven years, people will never forgive me for what happened before.”

“I did.”

Draco huffed, but a small smile broke through his bitter expression. “That’s just because you wanted to shag me senseless.”

“Hmm, well, maybe he will too,” Harry said grinning, extremely happy with himself that he could break through Draco’s walls so easily.

Draco raised an eyebrow and smiled coyly. “Are you suggesting I use my charms on an unsuspecting innocent?”

“I would never suggest such a thing. And if he touches you I’ll have to kill him.” Harry teased. “But first, we need to have lunch, and you owe Dobby an apology.”

Draco laughed. “Yes, I suppose I do. But I doubt he’ll ever pop in unannounced when I’m working again.”

Harry shook his head and leaned in to give Draco a kiss.

~~~

“Mr. Sebastian Stavros is here from the Daily Prophet, sir.”

“Thank you, Dobby. Show him in.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand to reassure him and watched as Draco’s face became blank and businesslike once more. He radiated confidence and pride, the embodiment of a man who had no concerns, doubts or fears. “One of these days you’ll have to teach me how to do that.”

Draco smiled. “It’s an old family secret, passed down from generation to generation. You’d never be able to master it.”

Draco stood to greet their visitor just as the door to the sitting room swung open. Harry watched in frozen fascination for the next few minutes as a scene like none he’d experienced before played out before his eyes. The reporter was sex personified; there was no better way to describe him. He glided into the room and met Draco with a handshake that lasted entirely too long. He was taller than Draco by at least three inches, wearing perfectly tailored robes, probably from the most expensive tailor in town, Harry thought derisively. Even with the robes covering it, Harry could tell the body underneath was just as faultless as his tanned, perfectly chiselled face, which looked like it had been carved by the hand of a talented artist. His unbelievably long lashes framed blue eyes that shimmered as they roamed up and down Draco’s body like he was inspecting a fine morsel of meat. Harry pulled his eyes away from the man just long enough to see Draco smirk.

“You, of course, know Harry Potter,” Draco said motioning to the spot where Harry sat.

Some unknown force pulled him to his feet, and he walked toward the man with an outstretched hand.

“I’m honoured to meet you, Mr. Potter. Hermione speaks very highly of you.” Harry suddenly felt like an awkward fourteen year old and could think of nothing to say other than, “Hello.”

Draco handled the situation like a host entertaining at a dinner party. Tea was brought in and Mr. Stavros and Draco exchanged small talk as if Harry wasn’t in the room.

“So, Draco… it’s alright if I call you Draco, isn’t it?” The man simpered, and Harry gritted his teeth to keep from reaching for his wand.

Draco, seemingly oblivious to the obviousness of the man, crossed his legs smoothly and nodded.

“From what Hermione’s told me, I expect this will be a bit difficult for you. So why don’t you start wherever you’re comfortable and I’ll hold my questions until you’re done.”

Draco told his story, from beginning to end, with elegance and humour. Not a trace of insecurity or concern in his eyes. He never mentioned the letter, as they had agreed, and he never once mentioned Harry.

“What an amazing story, Draco. I must commend you on your courage.”

Harry had to bite his tongue when he saw Draco’s cheeks pink at the flattery. “I assure you courage had nothing to do with it, Mr. Stavros.”

“Please, call me Sebastian.” The man smiled, and it lit up his face like the sun peeking out from a cloud on a dreary day.

“I mean no disrespect, but I must ask. Why did you call on Mr. Potter for protection when you came back? The schoolboy rivalry between the two of you is legendary. Everyone knows you aren’t exactly friends.”

Draco looked at Harry for the first time since the reporter had arrived. “I prefer to have the best, and anyone in the business will tell you he is the best.” Harry saw something flicker in those grey eyes, but it was gone before he could interpret it.

“Yes, yes, that would be the logical thing, I suppose. Well, I think I have what I need for a smashing front page article.” He stood and then hesitated before turning back to Draco.

“Hermione insisted I not ask for a photo; however, the photos we have are at least seven years old. In order to convince the public that you’re truly a hero, I’d suggest we include a current photo of the more mature, respectable Draco Malfoy I see before me.”

Draco hesitated for only a second before agreeing, and Mr. Stavros promptly brought out a camera from his robes. After taking several pictures of Draco standing stately by the fireplace, Mr. Stavros turned to Harry and smiled. “Well, Mr. Potter, once these photos hit the front page of the Prophet I daresay you will have competition for that Most Eligible Bachelor title you’ve held for so long.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to respond before the man turned back to Draco and continued as if Harry didn’t exist. “And you, my dear fellow, will have invites to every party in London within a week.”

Draco laughed as he showed the reporter to the door.

Harry sat, flabbergasted by what had just happened. Part of him was immensely happy that everything had gone so smoothly. But the nagging voice in the back of his mind kept pointing out how well Draco had avoided any contact with him for the last two hours. How Draco had hardly looked at him from the moment Mr. Greek Sex God had walked through the door. A sinking feeling in his stomach told him things were about to get a lot more complicated.

The Truce

Draco was practically bouncing when he returned. “Well, that went much smoother than I would have ever dreamt. I guess I really do owe Granger this time.” When Draco plopped on the sofa next to Harry and wrapped his arms around him, Harry stiffened.

Draco sat back and looked at him quizzically. “What’s the matter?”

“He seemed pleasant,” Harry responded coolly.

“Pleasant? Harry, the man was as gay as a wood fairy. Granger couldn’t have made a better choice in who to send. He loved me!” Draco said gleefully.

Harry stiffened even more and Draco backed away further, then smiled. “You’re jealous?”

“Of course I’m not jealous,” Harry said defensively, which made Draco’s smile broaden.

“Yes you are,” he gloated. “You’re jealous because I flirted with the great Greek Adonis.” Draco was smiling and smirking at the same time and Harry wanted to do something, anything to wipe that smirk off his face.

“I couldn’t help but notice how you carefully avoided saying anything about us.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? To take it slow, ease into it?” There wasn’t a hint of maliciousness in Draco’s voice and somehow Harry wanted there to be. He wanted to yell at Draco. Tell him that he shouldn’t have listened. That he had always done what he wanted, regardless of what anyone else wanted. Why did he have to change now? Unless one look at Mr. Sex Walking convinced Draco that it was in his best interest to keep their relationship quiet. Damn. Of all the reporters, what are the chances the one that comes to interview Draco would be gorgeous and gay? Harry blinked then closed his eyes, realisation squeezing his heart. “Yes, what are the chances, Hermione?” he mumbled to himself and stood up so abruptly he almost toppled Draco off the sofa. “I should contact Hermione to let her know how it went.”

Draco stood too, grabbing Harry’s arm tightly and looking directly into his eyes. “Harry,” he began, his voice teetering just on the edge between amusement and warning. “If I had wanted him, I could have had him. He made it abundantly clear that the offer was on the table.”

Harry looked down at his feet, studiously avoiding Draco’s eyes. He chewed his lip nervously, wanting to say something, but not sure how he should respond to such a blunt confession.

Draco pulled Harry against him, grinding their groins together. “Do you feel that, Harry?” Draco whispered into his ear. “That didn’t happen until he was gone. That happened because you’re so fucking hot when you’re jealous.”

Harry gasped at the feel of Draco’s hard body rubbing against him. All thought of what’s-his-name disappeared as he grabbed Draco’s hips and pushed harder against him. Draco smiled against Harry’s neck and tugged at his ear with sharp teeth. “It’ll take a lot more than fine robes and blue eyes to get rid of me, Potter,” Draco whispered before pushing Harry firmly back down onto the sofa.

~~~

Harry wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Hermione, and he hoped, for the first time in a very long time, that he was wrong. He had decided to Floo directly to her office instead of making a Floo call. He knew she couldn’t lie to his face.

“Harry! What are you doing here?” Hermione asked from behind her small desk in her cramped little office. “Sebastian’s not even back yet. How did the interview go?”

“How did you think it would go?”

“Well… I had hoped, for your sake, that it would go smoothly.” She smiled warmly at him, but the scowl on Harry’s face made it fade quickly.

“And what would be your definition of smoothly?” Harry asked brusquely.

Hermione fidgeted in her seat, not liking his tone at all. “Harry, what exactly are you asking?”

“I want to know your real reason for sending Sebastian Stavros?”

Hermione refused to meet Harry’s eyes and he knew he’d been right. “So how many gorgeous gay reporters are on staff here at the Prophet now? And what a coincidence the other guy wasn’t available and you had to make a last minute substitution.”

“Harry, I -”

“Just tell me why, Hermione.” He demanded through clinched teeth. He stood tall and furious, staring down at her with his hands balled tightly into fists. If she had not been a woman, he knew he would have punched her by now.

“Harry, I was sure Sebastian would find Malfoy attractive, and at the very least he would portray him in a positive light.” She knew Harry was on to her plan, and if she didn’t come clean there would be hell to pay. “And I’m sorry, but… yes, I wanted to see if Malfoy would succumb to Sebastian’s charms. I figured it would be damn hard not to.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’d do something like that.”

“Harry, just listen to me. It would be for the best for both of you. I mean, if you won’t think of yourself, think of him. Wouldn’t this whole ‘coming back the hero’ story be better if it wasn’t complicated by Harry Potter?”

“You think being with me is going to hurt him?” Harry was so angry he could hex her, but some part of him recognized that this was Hermione he was dealing with. She didn’t just do things to hurt people. There had to be a reason, as much as he was loath to admit it.

“I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt him, but the press will be much harder on him if he’s with you than if he was with a suave, debonair reporter don’t you think?”

Something inside him shattered. He’d been so self-absorbed, so worried about the affect their relationship would have on him, he’d never considered the consequences to Draco. Harry slumped into a chair and wanted to disappear forever.

“Harry?” When Harry didn’t respond, Hermione got up from her desk and sat in the chair next to him, laying a hand on his knee. “Harry, are you okay?”

“No, Hermione, I’m not okay, but you’re right. I’ve been completely selfish. All I could think about was how much I wanted him, how much I…” he stopped before the rest could come out, trying to fight back the sadness and fear that was welling up inside him. “I didn’t even consider that a relationship with me could be detrimental to him.”

“What are you saying?” Hermione asked, confused.

“I’m saying I’ll break it off so Sebastian can swoop in and pick up the pieces.”

Hermione almost cried when she saw the anguish in his eyes. “You would do that?” she asked surprised. “You’d break your own heart to protect Malfoy?”

A single tear slipped out of his eye as he looked away from her and whispered, “Yes.”

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione flung her arms around him. “I’m an idiot; I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise.”

Harry pulled away from her, not wanting anyone to touch him, maybe ever again. “You didn’t realise what?”

“You love him, don’t you?”

Unable to say it, Harry simply nodded, wishing he could find the anger from earlier to replace the emptiness he was now feeling.

“So what did Malfoy do when Sebastian showed up?”

Harry shrugged, defeated. What did it matter what he had done? “He flirted like mad, gave a grand account of his story, and sent him on his way. Look, I need to go.”

Before she could stop him he was gone, and she was left staring at his empty chair. “Oh, Harry,” she said to herself with a sigh. “I think I’ve underestimated both of you.”

~~~

Draco was pacing the rug bare. Harry had been gone for hours; he should have been back by now. Why he had to Floo to Granger’s office in the first place baffled him. Draco could tell he had been upset about something, but he wouldn’t say what.

“Mr. Malfoy, sir, you has a visitor downstairs.”

Draco looked curiously at Dobby. “A visitor, downstairs, for me?”

Dobby nodded emphatically.

“Who is it?”

“She gave me a note, sir.”


Malfoy, please meet me downstairs. We need to talk. – HG


He spotted Granger standing next to the stairs on his way down. “Granger,” Draco said as he nodded. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Hermione was wringing her hands nervously. “Has Harry said anything to you yet?”

“He hasn’t returned from his trip to see you. Obviously he had other business to attend to. What’s this about, Granger?”

This was going to cost her and she had a feeling she would be paying dearly for a very long time. “I owe you an apology.”

“Really?” he asked tonelessly. “I thought I was the one doling out apologies for past crimes.”

“Well, yours are for past crimes, mine are for current ones. Can we sit down?”

Draco motioned to one of the clusters of beautiful, ornate furniture and gestured for Hermione to go first.

“I’m guessing this has something to do with Mr. Stavros – sex God extraordinaire,” he said flippantly as he made himself comfortable.

Hermione took a deep breath before bursting into her explanation. “I thought if you didn’t care about Harry, if you were just using him to work your way back into wizarding society, that Sebastian would offer you a better opportunity and you’d jump at the chance.” Hermione looked up from her hands to find Draco staring at her with what was almost an amused look.

“You were right,” he finally said.

“What?” Hermione nearly jumped out of her chair, she wanted to slap him, but Draco held up his hand to silence her.

“If I was using Harry for that, then you would have been right,” Draco stated slowly and clearly. “Sebastian does offer more opportunity and much less trouble. If I were using Harry, I would have jumped at the chance. I’m somewhat impressed by your cunning.”

“So why didn’t you? Sebastian came back raving about how wonderful you were, how polite, the perfect gentleman, but he said you told him quite plainly that you weren’t interested.”

Draco did smile this time. “Because I’m not interested and I’m not using Harry for anything. Look, Granger -”

“Hermione.”

Draco swallowed. That was not the reaction he’d expected. She hated him for good reason. She would always hate him. “Why would I want to call you that?”

Hermione smiled for the first time since Harry had left her office. “Because it’s my name and because you’re in love with my best friend.”

Draco opened his mouth to disavow her of her foolish, sentimental notions, but a denial just wouldn’t come out. “I… oh, fuck, what was I saying?”

Hermione laughed. “Do you still think you’re better than me? Do you still think of me as nothing but a Mudblood?”

“Well, there’s obviously more to you than meets the eye. And I finally understand why you were in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw.” Draco studied her closely. Why exactly did he hate her so much to begin with? “No, I don’t think I’m better than you just because you were Muggle-born. I did once, but I grew out of that quickly, once I realised what Voldemort really stood for and why. Blood has nothing to do with intelligence or magical strength; Harry is living proof of that. Hell, Voldemort himself was living proof of that. I do still have issues with the way the Ministry handles Muggle-borns though, because they don’t understand wizarding traditions, and I think certain traditions need to be upheld. There’s a whole part of our culture and our history that Muggle-borns just can’t comprehend.”

Hermione nodded. “I happen to agree with you on that point. As much as we are both loath to admit it, I think we have a lot more in common than our love for Harry.” She put out her right hand. “I’m willing to try if you are, even if it’s just for Harry’s sake.”

Draco hesitated for only a second before taking her hand. “But would you mind terribly if I still called you Granger? Hermione just feels too… odd.”

Hermione laughed. “Sure, Malfoy. To be honest, the thought of calling you Draco was not at all appealing.”

~~~

Half an hour later, Harry walked into the reception area of the hotel, stumbling drunk and dreading what he was about to do more than he had dreaded facing Voldemort. As a matter of fact, he thought, as he held on tightly to the stair railing to keep from falling, he would much rather face ten Voldemorts than break up with Draco.

“Harry?”

Harry swirled around, startled to hear Draco’s voice. Swirling on steps when you’re two sheets to the wind, however, is never a good idea. He tripped gracelessly all the way down the few stairs he had managed to stumble up just moments before, and landed right into a pair of warm, strong arms. He looked up into Draco’s laughing eyes and wanted to close his eyes and stay there forever.

“Harry! Are you drunk?”

Harry looked quizzically at Draco. He had obviously had more to drink than he’d thought. “I’m so drunk that I’m imagining Hermione yelling at me,” he said with a giggle.

At that moment, looking down into the face of a completely drunk Harry Potter, Draco couldn’t believe how much he really did love this man. He tried to suppress the hardy laugh that came out but he just couldn’t.

“Sobrietus. Honestly, Harry,” Hermione tutted.

Harry straightened himself up, now that he could stand unassisted. But the shock of being instantly sober and having Hermione staring at him as if he was a rebellious teenager did nothing for his mood. “Hermione, what are you doing here? What the hell is going on?”

Draco, who was still holding Harry’s elbow to steady him, smiled. “It seems Granger and I have come to a bit of an understanding.”

Harry glanced back and forth between the two of them looking utterly confused.

Hermione reached out and gave him a hug. “I’m not wrong often, but when I am, I’m big enough to admit it,” she said. “And I want to help.”

Harry looked at Draco curiously over Hermione’s shoulder, but Draco just shrugged. “Will someone please tell me what is going on?”

“Let’s talk upstairs, shall we?” Draco asked as he took Harry’s hand and tugged him away from Hermione and up the stairs.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Harry opened his mouth to ask again, but was silenced by a long leisurely kiss. “Sit. We’ll explain.”

Harry sat, and Draco smiled down at him. “My, my, you’re obedient when you’re confused,” he said as he smirked.

“Draco, please…” Harry pleaded.

“Granger explained to me what she had done. What she had told you.” He raised his eyebrows in the slightest accusation. “And what you told her you would do.”

Harry looked away feeling like he’d been caught with his pants around his ankles. Draco sat next to him and took his hand. “There will be no ‘breaking this off’ do you understand?”

“But, Draco, she’s right. It will make it more difficult -”

“I don’t care,” Draco interrupted abruptly. “Harry, we didn’t plan for this to happen, but it did. And you will not play the hero with me. If you want out of this relationship because you want out, then tell me. Otherwise, the discussion is closed. We have more important things to talk about.”

Harry looked up at Hermione where she was still standing next to the door. “Malfoy’s right.” Her hand flew immediately up to her mouth and she started laughing. “I can’t believe I just said that!”

The sound of Draco joining her in laughter made Harry laugh too. He suddenly felt like a little boy who’d just been told he could keep the stray puppy he’d brought home. He didn’t think Draco would like being compared to a stray puppy, but the thought made him smile anyway. He reached out and brought Draco into his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered, so that only Draco could hear him.

Draco cocked his head so he could look into Harry’s eyes. “For what?” he asked curiously.

Harry felt a warmth bubble up from his stomach and spread out to his skin. “For everything.”

“A-hem. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Hermione said as she reached into her bag searching for something. “So can you please wait until I leave before you get all lovey-dovey?”

Draco and Harry both stared at her. “We are not lovey-dovey!” Draco finally said, sounding appalled.

Hermione sniggered as she sat in a chair across from Harry and handed him the large package she had pulled from her bag. “These are all the articles from the Prophet that have anything to do with Malfoy or his parents since he disappeared. I thought they might help you.” She looked at her watch and smiled. “But right now it’s time for dinner. Why don’t we go out? One last night out will be good for both of you. After tomorrow, neither of you will be able to go into public without the press on your heels.”

“Why? The article is about Draco, remember. He hardly even mentioned me.”

Hermione smiled that smile that could only mean she was up to no good. “Well, I’m afraid I might have mentioned something to Sebastian about the two of you when I talked to him earlier. After you left my office, that is.”

Harry leaned back and sighed. “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m a puppet in a very strange play?”

Hermione patted his knee. “I’m sorry, Harry. I couldn’t let you break up with him, not once I realised how wrong I’d been. Sebastian promised to be subtle, but tomorrow morning everyone will know that Malfoy is back, that he is Sir Aertsen, and that he is romantically involved with you.”

“I can’t decide whether I should hug you or hex you,” Harry said, looking intensely at Hermione, who just shrugged.

“I can’t say that I blame you. And my guess is you won’t make up your mind until we see how it works out.” She stood and motioned to the door. “Can we at least argue about it over dinner? I’m starving.”

Harry laughed as he stood and draped one arm over Hermione’s shoulder and the other over Draco’s. “Well, Draco, at least we’ve got one person in our corner.”

Draco looked around Harry and arched an eyebrow at Hermione, who blushed. “Two, actually,” she said tentatively. “Sheba was thrilled to hear about the two of you. She agreed to meet us for dinner to celebrate.”

Harry shook his head. “I take it back; I don’t feel like a puppet, I feel like a fly caught in web.”

“Draco wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist as they walked down the stairs. “Just be thankful Granger isn't a black widow,” he whispered, laughing.

~~~

Dinner was almost normal. The four of them, along with Corin and Evrard, and flanked by the rest of Draco’s detail, had a lovely evening. Sheba crowed about how she had always thought Harry and Draco would make a wonderful team, to which the others all rolled their eyes. The patrons of the restaurant seemed to ignore Harry when he leaned in to give Draco an innocent kiss. There were no reporters scampering to ask questions, no photographers jockeying for pictures.

In the days of chaos that would follow, both men would think back on this one night of normalcy with great fondness.

Past and Present

“Mr. Potter, how can you be so sure Draco Malfoy hasn’t tricked you into believing he’s changed?”

“Mr. Malfoy, was it a vendetta against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that caused you to change sides?”

“Mr. Potter, how do you respond to the allegations that you knew all along where Mr. Malfoy was hiding?”

“Mr. Malfoy, do you plan to go back to France?”

“Mr. Potter, do you plan to go back with him?”

The voices all blurred into echoes and cameras flashed everywhere they went. As Harry ushered Draco through the Ministry doors, he couldn’t help but cringe at the look of hatred directed toward the loathsome reporters.

“You’d think they would have given up by now,” Draco snapped as he smoothed his robes. He was not accustomed to being manhandled and jostled about. Well, not in public anyway, he thought with a wry smile, glancing in Harry’s direction.

Harry huffed, barely containing his gruffness. “No, Draco, they’re piranhas. They won’t give up until there’s no more flesh to rip callously from our bones.”

Draco shuddered at the vividly accurate analogy. He leaned into Harry and wrapped an arm around his waist. “I’m sorry, Harry. You warned me, but I never imagined it would be this bad.”

Harry squeezed his hand and smiled, his bad mood melting into the depths of Draco’s genuinely apologetic eyes. “You couldn’t have known. You weren’t here to witness it after the war. Now you see why I built Varno Domov.”

As they entered the office of the Minister of Magic, Sheba smiled up at them from behind her huge desk. “So, I see you made it in one piece. That in itself is an accomplishment these days. I take it they haven’t let up any?”

“No,” Harry said curtly. “Next time, we’ll Floo directly to your office, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, yes, of course, dear. But it’s good that the public see you every now and again, no matter how uncomfortable it must be.”

Harry sat heavily on one of the chairs. “I know. So what is this important bit of information you have for us?”

Sheba motioned for Draco to sit and got right to the point. “I’ve found a contact who’s managed to get us inside information on Elixirs et Alambics.”

“Really?” Draco raised his eyebrows in astonishment.

“Yes. It has been difficult, and I very nearly had to sell my soul for it, but I think it will help.” She handed Draco a piece of parchment with yet another long list of names, most of them French. “It’s not a complete list of clients, but there’s a good chance whoever purchased the silver is on there.”

Draco scanned the list before handing it to Harry, who did the same.

“Anyone jump out at you?”

Both men shook their heads. “But we can compare it to the other names we’ve compiled and hope for something,” Harry said encouragingly.

“Yes, let’s hope that it helps.” She turned to Draco and asked, “You haven’t received anything else since word got out?”

Draco laughed bitterly. “Oh, I’ve received plenty. Everything from death threats to marriage proposals, but nothing in green ink laced with poisoned silver.”

Sheba looked up from her desk, an incredulous smile on her lips. “Marriage proposals?”

Harry laughed. “Yes, and you’d be surprised how many witches would like to have a threesome with Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.”

Draco smiled at the blush that pinked the Minister's cheeks. “Hermione says she’s received quite a number of letters requesting they do a follow-up interview. Have you considered it? It might be wise.”

Harry ran his hands through his hair nervously and Draco smirked.

“Ah, I see,” Sheba said knowingly. “So, Harry, what are your objections to the idea?”

Harry exhaled in resignation. “I don’t know. I just… I know it would be a good idea, I just hate the thought of it, that’s all.”

Sheba crossed the room and handed them both cups of tea. “It might make things better.”

“And it might make things worse,” Harry countered quickly.

“Yes, that’s true. But, frankly, how much worse can they get, Harry? You two can’t even leave that prison of a hotel you call home without being mauled.”

Draco crossed his arms smugly as if to say, ‘You’re wasting your breath; we’ve been through this a hundred times’.

Harry looked at Draco and rolled his eyes. “Fine, you win, we’ll do another damn interview. Mr. Greek Sex God will be thrilled.”

Draco laughed loudly and tousled Harry’s hair. “That’s the attitude,” he teased.

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Harry snapped sullenly.

~~~

Once safely ensconced back at the hotel with their stomachs full from a hearty lunch, they started cross referencing the new information Sheba had given them.

“Maybe we should owl Granger. She might find a connection we’re missing,” Draco said after an hour with no luck.

Harry leaned back in his chair and smiled.

“What?” Draco asked impatiently.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Don’t ‘oh, nothing’ me. I can tell by now when something is going through that tiny little brain of yours.”

Harry laughed and stretched his legs out in front of him. “I was just thinking how sexy you are when you admit you don’t know everything.”

Draco cocked one eyebrow up and smirked. “Oh, really?” Draco’s eyes roamed up and down Harry’s long outstretched legs. “And I’m not sexy when I act like I do know everything?”

Harry looked into Draco’s shimmering eyes and the palms of his hands suddenly became sweaty. He rubbed them down his thighs and grinned as Draco’s eyes followed their path. Instantly, he felt himself growing hard beneath their gaze. “No, I never said that. I think you’re rather sexy then, too.” He brought his hands back up his thighs slowly and could almost see Draco’s mouth water. Just as his hand got close enough to touch his cock, Draco’s hand shot out lightning fast to grab it. Grey eyes flicked up to meet green ones and Draco shook his head. “That’s my job,” he said in a husky whisper.

“I fantasized about this once, you know,” Harry whispered as Draco’s deft fingers unfastened his trousers.

“About what?”

“One day, in our sixth year, we were both…” Harry took in a sharp breath when Draco’s hand finally made contact with his aching cock. “We were both in the library,” Harry continued with some effort. “You were writing at a table next to mine and even though I hated you, I couldn’t help but notice how your fingers wrapped around your quill so elegantly.” The words were coming out so quietly Draco had to lean in to hear them. “I wondered what it would feel like if you got up from that table and kneeled next to me and wrapped those long slender fingers around my cock.”

Draco swallowed hard and closed his eyes, remembering all the times he’d had similar fantasies when he was in school. How he had hated himself for wishing he could fuck Potter senseless when he was sixteen. He doubled his effort to make this the best hand job Harry had ever had. “Is it as good as you’d imagined?” he whispered.

Harry was groaning and pushing into Draco’s hand, his own hands twined in Draco’s hair. “Better,” he said breathlessly, leaning his head against Draco’s shoulder. “So much better,” he said again, as he came violently into Draco’s hand.

“I want to fuck you, Potter,” Draco whispered into Harry’s hair, his voice hoarse. “Hard and angry, like I wanted to fuck you when I was sixteen.” Draco felt Harry nod and pulled back to look into his fiery green eyes to make sure. Draco pulled Harry out of the chair roughly and shoved his jeans down; turning him and pushing him face down against the table. His hands were trembling so badly he could barely unfasten his own trousers before he pushed them down to his thighs. He ran his hands along Harry’s back, pushing up the shirt as he went and admiring the scene before him. God how he’d wanted to do this in school. Have Harry Potter bent over a library table with his bare arse in the air for the taking. It hadn’t been about making Potter feel good then, it had been about power. He’d wanted to hurt him, wanted to humiliate him. He didn’t want that now, but those same feelings were so strong, so raw. He barely had time to whisper a Lubricating Spell before he pushed into Harry forcefully and heard him scream. Draco stopped dead still, panic sending shivers throughout his body and holding him motionless.

Harry pressed his forehead against the table and ground his teeth together trying to ignore the pain. He could picture Draco’s face as it had been when he was sixteen, full of rage and contempt, so different from the man he’d been waking up to for the last two months. “You think you have the guts to finish this, Malfoy?” he challenged as he pushed back against Draco, trying to get him to move.

Draco’s fear and guilt disappeared instantly and in one smooth motion he pulled out. When he pushed back in it was harder and rougher than he’d ever dreamed he could be, over and over until his whole body trembled when he came. He collapsed back into the chair where Harry had previously sat. He pulled Harry with him to sit in his lap and leaned his forehead against the other man’s back.

Harry leaned against him, feeling like he could hardly move. His feet were tangled in his jeans and warm, strong arms were wrapped tightly around his waist. They sat in silence until Harry heard a strange constricted sound come from Draco. When he turned, he was surprised to see tears streaming down the other man’s cheeks. Harry wrapped his arms around him and held him, whispering soothing words into his ear. “Shh, Draco, it’s okay.”

Draco shook his head and buried his face deeper into Harry’s chest, refusing to look up. “I hurt you,” he finally whispered so quietly that Harry could barely hear. “I wanted to hurt you.”

“Shh,” Harry said as he lifted Draco’s face. He wiped away the tears and brushed the hair out of Draco’s eyes. “I know.”

He looked into Harry’s smiling eyes with confusion. “Why don’t you hate me?” he asked, fresh tears brimming in his eyes.

Harry stood up, stumbling before he managed to get his jeans back up. He pulled Draco up and helped get his trousers back on as well, then took his hand and led him over to the sofa. Draco wouldn’t look at him as they sat down. “Why don’t you hate me?” Draco repeated in a small voice.

“Draco, look at me,” Harry commanded and Draco couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to. “I hated you for a lot longer than I’ve loved you.” Draco’s eyes widened and Harry nodded, blushing. “All that hate had to work itself out somehow.” Draco looked away again, feeling ashamed at the surge of power that had run through him at the sight of Harry leaning over that table, helpless.

“Draco, look at me,” Harry said again harshly and Draco’s head whipped up instantly. “Don’t forget who I am. The most powerful wizard alive, remember? If I’d wanted to stop you, I would have. Don’t feel guilty.”

Draco realised at that moment how right Harry was. Harry had only to whisper an incantation and Draco would have been thrown across the room in an instant, or worse. He nodded his understanding. “You’re not sixteen anymore,” he finally said.

Harry smiled at him. “And neither are you,” he said and leaned in to kiss him gently. “I love you, Draco, all of you, the boy who hated me and the man who loves me.”

A whisper of a smile crossed Draco’s lips. He did love Harry, even if he was too afraid to say it out loud, and that simple fact still amazed him every morning when he woke up to see Harry sleeping next to him. “Don’t ever let me do that again, okay.”

Harry pulled Draco to him and held him tightly. “You won’t.”

Draco opened his mouth to ask Harry how he could be so sure, but was cut off by the appearance of a note hovering at his left ear. He snatched it out of the air, annoyed by the intrusion, but as he read the note, the irritation was replaced by something else entirely.

“What is it?” Harry asked as he watched the colour drain from Draco’s face.

“Another letter. Corin thinks it’s from the same person.” Draco looked up from the note and continued, “But this time, it’s addressed to you.” He handed the note to Harry and it felt, for an instant, like everything was moving in slow motion.

Harry read through it quickly before standing. “Come on, let’s go down and see it.”

Draco nodded and followed Harry quietly from the room, all thought of what had just happened between them filed away for later examination.

When they arrived in the downstairs hallway, Evrard was standing in the doorway waiting for them. The main sitting area had been turned into a makeshift sorting area, and there were piles and piles of letters, obviously sorted in some manner that both Corin and Evrard understood. Without a word, Corin handed Draco the letter. It was penned in the exact same handwriting as the first letter, with identical green ink, from the looks of it. Draco read the letter, his heartbeat increasing with every word. Harry read the letter aloud from over Draco’s shoulder.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Draco Malfoy must die, but there is no need for you to be harmed. In truth, I would be very bereft if any harm came to you. You are a hero, in the truest sense of the word. But Draco Malfoy must pay for his sins, and the sins of his family. Rest assured, he will die, Mr. Potter, and if you get in the way, you will die alongside him. Please, I beg of you, he’s not worth your life.

Sincerely,
A friend

“We’ve taken a sample of the ink. It has to steep in the potion for an hour before we know if it’s an exact match. There’s no magical signature, just like the first, but the handwriting appears to be identical.”

Draco nodded at Corin running the words through his head again. “The wards, Harry, how many people know they can detect anyone who means you harm?”

Harry was clenching his fists in an effort to control the anger that was surging through his body. Trying to focus on Draco’s voice, and on his words, he answered slowly. “Enough people have tried to get through them and failed. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what stopped them. From the way this is worded, it certainly sounds like whoever wrote this knows, doesn’t it?”

The more Harry thought about the words the angrier he got. He had been so sure they were looking for a Death Eater, or at least a sympathiser, but there was no way in hell a Voldemort supporter could have written this.

As if Draco was reading his mind he said bitterly, “So, this is from one of the ‘good guys’, then.”

The words had no sooner left his mouth than a vase went flying from the table, smashing against the fireplace and scattering tiny shards of glass over the room. Draco grabbed Harry’s hands and could feel them trembling. Glancing around the room he saw other objects teetering and the whole room was humming with wild magic. “Harry,” Draco said quietly. “Calm down, getting angry is not going to solve anything.”

When Harry looked up, what Draco saw made his whole body shiver. He had never doubted for a second how powerful Harry was, but to see it, to see such raw power in his eyes, was awe inspiring. He’d heard the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ but Draco was almost certain that look, directed at the right person really could kill. Draco saw movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over to see Evrard and Corin backing away from Harry with identical terrified looks on their faces. In some distant corner of Draco’s brain a voice was snorting derisively ‘some bodyguards you are’ but Draco couldn’t say he blamed them.

What he didn’t quite understand though, was why he wasn’t even the tiniest bit afraid. He smoothed his hand over Harry’s cheek and smiled warmly at him. “Harry, you need to calm down; you’re frightening my bodyguards.”

He could see Harry grinding his teeth, trying his best to rein in an unbelievable amount of power. Draco could feel the heat of it on his skin, feel the tingle of it in his nerve endings, feel the pressure of it against his chest, and it was… he shook his head. He would have to examine what exactly it was doing later; right now he had to get Harry to calm down or there would be no later. He ran his hand up and down Harry’s arm in gentle, calming strokes while whispering soothing words. He never let Harry’s eyes leave his, even as he wondered vaguely if this was what it would feel like to calm a dragon. Finally he felt the magic slowly dissipating. Harry’s eyes started coming back into focus and his jaw relaxed just the slightest bit.

“There you go,” Draco soothed, as the last of the flaring magic disappeared. “I knew you could do it.”

Harry slumped into Draco’s arms, exhausted from the amount of energy it took to control that much wayward magic. Corin moved cautiously to open the door as Draco led Harry in that direction. He turned and gave both Corin and Evrard a stern look. “Not a word of this. Ever.” Both men nodded their silent agreement before closing the door behind him.

Once back in their own rooms, Draco led Harry to the sofa and sat next to him. “Are you okay?”

Harry nodded and laid his head on Draco’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled, feeling his strength slowly beginning to return.

Relief flooded Draco and he had to laugh from the sheer joy of it. “I certainly hope I never make you that angry.”

Harry looked up at him and shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Draco. That hasn’t happened since before the war, and I’m obviously a lot stronger now than I was then.” He reached up and ran his hand through Draco’s hair. “God, Draco, I could have--”

“Yes,” Draco interrupted and took Harry’s hand into his own, kissing the knuckles gently. “You could have blown us all to dust, but you didn’t. You controlled it and you always will,” he said confidently.

“But if you hadn’t been there--”

“Harry, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place, so let’s not start playing the ‘what if’ game, okay? It won’t get us anywhere. Are you hungry?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think I could eat even if I was. My stomach feels like a bubbling cauldron.”

“Mine too, now that you mention it. Come on then, you’re exhausted. Let’s get you to bed.” As Draco walked quietly into the bedroom, he couldn’t help but feel like they’d just crossed some invisible line, shared a remarkable life-altering experience that would leave them both forever changed, forever a part of the other because of it.

They got undressed quietly and climbed into bed, both instantly seeking out the comfort of the other. Harry ran his fingers through the other man’s silky blond hair, cherishing the feel of it as if for the first time. “Before the war, when that would happen, the only thing we could do was have everyone leave the room until I calmed down. Sometimes it would take hours, and I would usually wake up in a cold sweat on the floor. No one’s ever been able to calm me down the way you did, Draco, ever.”

Draco hm’d into Harry’s chest, unable to explain how or why he had been able to stay so calm, unable to explain many things about what he had felt. He felt his cock stir as he thought of how Harry’s eyes had looked brimming with raw, uncontained power, remembering the tingle of Harry’s magic enveloping his skin. There was something undeniably sexy about that kind of power. But he knew without a doubt, it wasn’t like earlier when he had wanted to dominate Harry’s power. Now he wanted to be wrapped in it, immersed in it, paralyzed by it.

“Draco?” Harry pulled away so he could see Draco’s face.

Draco looked up at him wondering what he had missed while he was lost in his own thoughts. “What?”

Harry grinned that adorable lopsided grin and Draco couldn’t resist leaning up to kiss it. “All that power turns you on, doesn’t it?” Harry asked curiously.

Draco chewed his lip nervously as a heavy silence blanketed the room. He didn’t want Harry to think he was here, in his bed, just because he was the most powerful wizard in the world. But damn, it did turn him on. Almost everything about Harry turned him on. “Does it bother you? That it does?” Draco finally asked, his voice soft, but cutting through the silence with startling precision.

Harry turned onto his side and propped himself up onto one elbow. Draco looked up at him and they simply stared at each other as the minutes flickered by. “No, it doesn’t bother me, but it does scare me.”

Draco’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Scares you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly as he ran his index finger along the contours of Draco’s face. “The most I’ve ever hoped for was to find someone who would tolerate it, who wasn’t terrified of it. I never dreamt I’d find someone who actually liked it, someone with balls enough to stand in front of me and talk me down from it like you did tonight. Draco, do you know how dangerous that was?”

Draco understood Harry’s tentativeness now; he understood what line had been crossed. He scooted closer to Harry on the bed so they were facing each other, their bodies touching from top to bottom. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. That’s what I like. It’s not so much the power itself, but the way you control it, the way you--”

“It doesn’t scare you?” The question had a sense of urgency to it, like Harry was willing the answer to be no.

“You make it sound like the power, the magic, is something separate from you, like a shirt you can hang in the wardrobe for the weekend. It’s not, Harry; it’s an integral part of you, of who you are.” Watching the emotions flicker through those bright green eyes, Draco realised that this was why the question was so important. Harry knew that one could never truly love him, unless they loved the magic and the power that defined him, that made him different. “You don’t scare me, Harry. I know you would never hurt me.”

“I did once,” Harry said quietly.

Draco’s heart ached at the obvious regret in Harry’s voice. He wrapped himself around Harry, trying his best to climb inside him if at all possible, to become the very blood in his veins. “We both hurt each other, Harry, but that was a lifetime ago.” He found Harry’s lips to remind him how much things had changed, to erase the bad memories and replace them all with beautiful ones. More good memories than his brain could possibly hold. So many that he would need a Pensieve to hold them all, or he’d never be able to think of anything else.

The Weasleys

The next morning, Harry Floo-called Hermione to tell her about yesterday’s letter and to set up another interview. He had agreed that Sebastian was still the best choice to do the interview, and as much as Harry hated the idea of him anywhere near Draco, he had to admit he’d been fair and truthful with the previous article.

“Morning,” Draco said in a sleepy voice as he entered the sitting room. He considered for a moment how nice it would be to lie down on the sofa with his head in Harry’s lap and snooze for another hour, but logic insisted it would be a bad idea. They had work to do today. The sooner they found this damn menace that threatened them both, the sooner they could move on with their lives.

He paused behind the sofa and placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders, leaning in to place a quick kiss on the side of his neck, just below his ear where he knew Harry was the most sensitive. “How are you feeling?”

Harry took the hands from his shoulders and pulled them to his chest, effectively forcing the other mans arms to slide around him. Draco was more than eager to take the hint and peppered more kisses up and down the side of Harry’s neck.

“Much better now, thanks,” Harry answered, turning his head so Draco’s kisses could better reach his lips. When they finally did kiss, it was amazingly familiar yet completely alien, and Harry realised what had happened the previous night was even more profound than he had thought. For a moment he allowed that fear of scaring Draco away to creep in unguarded. “Draco, are you... are we...?” Harry huffed, annoyed at this inability to put his feelings into words.

Draco smiled down at him. “Perfect, Harry. We’re perfect.”

“Good.” He wouldn’t admit, not even to himself, that the warmth in Draco’s eyes was tantamount to a bandage for his soul. “There’s tea if you want,” he said, motioning to the tea tray next to the sofa. “Corin sent a note earlier. The ink was a match.” Harry grinned slyly. “Although he said it wouldn’t be necessary for us to go down and see for ourselves.”

Draco snorted before breaking into a laugh. “Harry, I think you frightened the life out of them last night. I’m surprised poor Corin didn’t wet himself.”

Harry looked down at his hands uncomfortably. “Sorry.”

Moving away to make himself a cup of tea, Draco watched the other man carefully. Harry had always appeared so confident, but Draco was starting to see how easily that confidence could be shaken. It amazed him that such a powerful wizard could feel so powerless about so many things, but Draco really had no idea how to help him with that. After making his tea he sat next to Harry on the sofa and tried to do his best. “You don’t need to be sorry, Harry. They’ll get over it. They’ll just be nervous about bringing any more bad news for a while.” Draco lifted Harry’s chin to force him to look at him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Other than a few broken vases, that is,” Draco added with a smirk.

Harry nodded reluctantly. “Can we not mention the wild magic to anyone else? Not even Hermione?”

Draco raised a questioning eyebrow but didn’t ask why. “Sure, if that’s what you want. I’ve already instructed Corin and Evrard to keep quiet. They won’t say anything.”

“Thanks,” Harry said quietly. And he thought Draco understood that he wasn’t just thanking him for not telling anyone, but also for not asking why he didn’t want Hermione to know. “I Floo-called about the interview earlier, Hermione said she’d try to set it up for this afternoon.”

“So you still want to go through with it?”

“Like I really have a choice; with both you and Sheba on my back, I’m rather out voted.”

“But... even after the new letter...?”

“Especially after the new letter. We can’t let them intimidate us, and if this person really does know me, they should know I’m not the type to be bullied.”

Draco had to wonder what kind of idiot would actually threaten Harry Potter, after everything he had done. “So is Sebastian doing the interview?” he asked coyly.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco with a look of warning. “Yes, he is, but if he so much as breathes on you...”

Draco beamed and fought the urge to crawl into Harry’s lap and lick him to within an inch of his life. “Oh, Harry, you know you have nothing to worry about, the man may look like a sex god, but he has nothing on you.”

The rest of the morning passed in a relaxed lull. Hermione Floo-called to say the interview was set up for just after lunch, so they decided not to jump into their investigation of the letter until later in the day. They talked about it, and threw out a few theories, most of which had been previously considered and discarded already. By the time lunch was over, Harry was a nervous ball of energy.

“Harry, would you stop pacing? You’re driving me insane!”

“I can’t help it. I hate these blasted interviews and after last night, I’m afraid of what might happen if Mr. Hot Hands even looks at you the wrong way.”

Draco had to snicker in spite of himself. “You aren’t going to lose it over Sebastian, Harry. That would be a total waste of energy. I would much rather you save that vigour of yours for me later,” he said suggestively.

“Is sex all you ever think about, Draco?” Harry snapped.

Narrowing his eyes and trying his best not to lose his temper, Draco ignored him and got up to leave the room.

“Where are you going?”

“Out of here before I say something we will both regret,” Draco said tonelessly as he continued toward the door.

“Draco, don’t. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“No, I know you didn’t, Harry, but you need to deal with this on your own. I’m not talking you down from this one,” Draco said as he slammed the door behind him.

“Well, fuck,” Harry said loudly as he flung himself onto the sofa. He knew he should follow him, but in this mood, he’d only make things worse. Sebastian was to be there in half an hour. The last thing they needed right now was to have an argument.

Fifteen minutes later, Draco walked through the door of the sitting room dressed immaculately with every hair perfect, and his confident, interview face firmly in place. Harry was still lying face down on the sofa in a pair of old jeans and a tee shirt. “Is that what you’re planning to wear?” Draco asked mockingly.

Harry looked up at him through the crook in his arm and smiled. “Yeah, I thought the poor orphaned boy image suited me.

Draco snorted. “Anything suits you, Harry, but dress robes would look nicer for the photos.”

Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around a throw pillow, chewing his lip. “I’m sorry, Draco. I just... I didn’t mean to take my bad mood out on you, alright?”

Draco sat next to him on the sofa being careful not to touch him. “You know what’s between us isn’t just about sex, don’t you?”

Harry nodded, afraid that if he said something, it would come out so sappy and sentimental that Draco might hex him.

“Good. Now, go get dressed. I’ll not be caught dead in a photo with you dressed like that.”

To Draco’s surprise, Harry was very obedient, coming back dressed in deep plum dress robes that made his eyes sparkle. “How’s this? Am I presentable?” Harry asked, fidgeting with his collar.

Draco felt his stomach do a flip and wanted nothing more than to rip those robes off of him. Maybe I do think about sex a bit too much. He ran his hands over Harry’s chest and shoulders, pretending to smooth out his robes. “You look amazing,” he finally said, smiling.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, kissing him gently. Which happened to be the first thing Sebastian saw when Dobby opened the door.

The interview was surprisingly short and Sebastian kept a fair distance from Draco, except for his eyes, Harry noticed with disdain. He took several photos, said his goodbyes and Dobby, not Draco, showed him to the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Draco raised a curious eyebrow in Harry’s direction. “Did you need to be quite so obvious? We’re supposed to keep him on our side you know.”

Harry ran his hands through his hair and reclaimed his place on the sofa. “I don’t like him.”

“You do like him. If he was an ugly toad you’d have asked him to stay for dinner.” Sitting down next to Harry, Draco insinuated himself into Harry’s arms and laid his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Harry, haven’t we been through this already?”

Refusing to acknowledge his childish behaviour, Harry simply wrapped his arms around Draco and sat quietly, enjoying the moment, trying desperately not to think about how many other men would be lusting after Draco, or all the work that waited for them in the library, or the madman that was hell-bent on taking Draco away from him.

“I’m going to change for dinner,” Draco said in a bit of huff when Harry didn’t respond. “Harry, I...” He tried to say what he knew Harry wanted to hear, really he did. But those words were not part of Draco’s vocabulary. Love was not part of Draco’s vocabulary. He shook his head and stood to leave. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Go ahead, I’ll be in in a few minutes,” Harry said with a faraway look in his eyes, and Draco couldn’t help but wonder if they were attempting the impossible. They both carried so much emotional baggage that he was afraid the weight of it would drown them.

“Harry!” Fred said, grinning as Dobby ushered him into the sitting room.

George tipped his head toward the door. “Who’s the hot--”

“Dishy brunette--”

“We just passed in the hallway?”

Harry cringed at the look of glee on the twins’ faces. “A reporter for the Prophet. We did another interview. What are you two doing here?” he asked curtly.

“Well, hello to you too, mate,” the twins said in unison.

“Sorry,” Harry said guiltily. “Hi, Fred, hi, George. Now what are you doing here?”

“Orders,” said George, grinning.

“From Mum,” Fred finished.

Harry looked at them both sceptically.

“Well, mate, if you’d returned our owls, you’d know now wouldn’t you?”

“Owls?” Harry asked confused. “I haven’t got any owls from you in ages. From any of you,” he added bitterly.

Fred and George exchanged looks. “We’ve been sending owls ever since the article came out. We thought you were ignoring us.”

“Thought perhaps you’d gone all Slytherin and you didn’t want us around.”

“What? No!” Harry said, sounding irritated. “‘Gone all Slytherin’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

At that moment, the blond Slytherin in question strode in and stopped abruptly at the sight of the twins. Harry walked over to him and put his arm around his waist protectively. Draco looked at him questioningly but didn’t say anything. Damn Harry and his mood swings, he thought. It’s enough to give a man a headache.

“Hello, Malfoy,” George said lightly. “We’ve come to invite you and Harry round to dinner at Mum’s place.”

Draco tried not to look stunned, but Harry obviously didn’t try to conceal his surprise, if his shocked expression was any indication. “Dinner?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, mate,” Fred chimed in. “You know, where you sit around a table and eat while chatting with friends and family.”

“They say they’ve been sending owls,” Harry said, looking at Draco and ignoring Fred’s attempt at humour.

Draco’s lips twisted in thought. “Evrard and Corin get all our owls.” He looked from Harry to the Weasleys. “They’re probably in one of those piles downstairs.”

Fred and George exchanged glances at the use of the word ‘our’ then grinned at each other.

George studied the protective arm Harry had around Malfoy and the way Malfoy leaned into him so comfortably. He’d seen Harry with plenty of guys, but he’d never seen him look at any of them so tenderly, never seen him hover over them like such a fierce protector. “So, what Hermione says is true then,” George said to Fred.

“Looks like Ickle Harry’s in love,” Fred said in reply and they both started laughing and plopped onto the sofa in unison.

“So, dinner then?” George asked, looking up at Harry.

“Tonight, at the Burrow,” said Fred.

Harry looked between them and suddenly grinned. “You two are okay with this then?” Harry asked, pulling Draco in tighter against him.

“Sure, mate. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Hermione says he’s not such a git anymore, right?”

“Yeah, if we’ve been able to put up with that Fleur for seven years, we can certainly put up with Malfoy, here.”

The twins were both grinning from ear to ear and their eyes were twinkling mischievously. They scooted to either end of the sofa and patted the spot in-between. “Come on, Malfoy. Welcome to the family.”

Draco looked at Harry and grimaced. He had to admit after the stunt they had pulled at the end of fifth year, he had a begrudging respect for the twins. And they had done amazing things during the war, if the stories in the Prophet could be believed. But he had never wanted to hear that phrase come out of their mouths. “I may not be a git, Weasley, but I’m not an idiot either,” he finally said as he took Harry’s hand and walked to the chair by the fireplace.

“Awe, come on, Malfoy. You’ve hurt our feelings,” George said, still smiling.

“Yeah, Mum just wants to give you a warm welcome, that’s all.”

“Besides, with your researching skills, I bet you could come up with some interesting new items for the joke shop.”

“It’ll be nice having a brain in the family. Since Ron screwed up our chance at having Hermione as a sister-in-law, we’ll have to settle for you.”

Draco had a dozen scathing remarks on the tip of his tongue, but one look at Harry’s smiling face made them all disappear. He knew Harry had been worried about the Weasleys' reaction. He knew he’d been hurt that none of them had contacted him after the article had come out, and he suspected that was part of the reason for his recent moodiness. But now he could see the relief in Harry’s eyes that maybe, at least the twins, seemed genuinely okay with their relationship. “So, Harry, what do you think?” he finally asked with a smirk. “Ready to take me home to meet the family?”

Harry looked down at him with surprise. “You’d go? You’d want...?” One look at the other man told him Draco would do anything, even this, to make him happy and he suddenly felt even more foolish for his recent behaviour. He leaned down and kissed Draco gently, but with a promise of much more when they were alone.

“Awe, look at that, George,” Fred teased. “Aren’t they just the cutest couple?”

George snorted as he stood and clapped Harry on the back. “So, we’ll see you at seven, then.” He held out his hand to Draco and to everyone’s surprise Draco took it. “At seven then,” Draco said as he shook George’s hand.

“Mum will be so pleased,” Fred said as he stood and strode toward the door. “Well, we had best be off. We’ve a business to run, you know.”

“Yep, see ya, Harry,” said George. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

And they were gone, leaving a bewildered Harry in their wake. “What exactly just happened?” he asked, looking at Draco with a grin.

Draco smiled and wrapped his arms around the confused but elated man. “That, my dear Harry, was an ambush.”

“Yeah, I guess it was.” Harry laughed and kissed Draco again, looking for any sign that would tell him Draco would resent this later. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Draco cocked his head and looked at Harry curiously. “Don’t you want me to?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Then I want to,” he said, smirking. “And I promise to only throw small, easily reversible hexes.”

As Draco lay in bed he replayed the night’s events over in his head. Mrs. Weasley had been more than welcoming, the twins had been amusing, even Charlie, who Draco couldn’t remember ever meeting, was friendly. Thankfully Bill was in South America and couldn’t make it home. He didn’t think he would have been able to face him after what Greyback had done to him. Ron was suspiciously absent, which Draco was once again thankful for. But Harry seemed agitated that his friend couldn’t make it ‘because of work’.

He’d like to say it had been horrible, but it hadn’t. It had been pleasant, warm and cosy. The kind of family dinners he’d read about in books. The only thing uncomfortable about it had been the empty chair at the head of the table, set for dinner as if Mr. Weasley were simply running late from work and would turn up any minute. Harry had warned Draco about it beforehand, had explained that Mr. Weasley had disappeared during the war and was presumed dead, but his body had never been found. Mrs. Weasley, either out of hope that he would one day return, or out of respect, always set a plate for him, even after all these years. Draco couldn’t imagine that kind of love, that kind of devotion to someone else. But then again, when he thought about Harry, he could. He didn’t hear Harry come out of the bathroom and was a bit startled by his voice when he asked, “A Knut for your thoughts.”

Draco smiled warmly at him as he climbed into bed and snuggled up against him, head resting on his hand.

“Thanks for going tonight,” Harry said.

Draco turned onto his side to face Harry and ran his hand down his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. “They must really love you to have been so nice to me.”

“And you must really love me to have been so nice to them,” Harry said, half in jest, and half deadly serious. “Not a single hex.”

Draco smiled and shook his head. “No, but those blasted twins came close to getting one a few times.”

Harry laughed and pulled Draco closer to him. “God, I love you. I can be a right arse sometimes, but you know that I love you, right?”

“Hmm.” Draco smirked as he wrapped his other arm around Harry’s neck and pulled the other man on top of him. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Oh, really?” Harry asked as he attempted to kiss every inch of Draco’s pale neck.

“Yes, really. I think you need to convince me.”

What came next was unlike anything they had done before. Their lovemaking wasn’t rushed or needy, and Draco wouldn’t have cared if he hadn’t even had an orgasm. Which he did. Twice. It was slow and reverent and loving and seemed to last forever. Draco was even surer now, after this night, that he’d never want to be held by anyone else.

As Harry drifted off to sleep with a sated smile on his lips, Draco kissed his temple and whispered the one thing he’d never said to anyone, “I love you, too, Harry.”

Bridges To Cross

Draco’s stomach twisted into knots as he stared at the man sleeping so peacefully next to him. There was a slight smile curving those beautiful, full lips and Draco smugly imagined that it had something to do with him; at least he hoped it did.

Had he actually told Harry he loved him last night or had that been a dream? Holy fuck, the whole night seemed like a dream, an amazingly wonderful dream.

One glance toward the window told Draco it was an ungodly hour and that he should close his eyes and go back to sleep, but he wanted to touch Harry so badly his fingers were twitching. He ran his nose gently up the side of Harry’s face and breathed in the scent. Sweet Merlin, he smelled so good! The combination of soap and cologne and the lingering hint of sweat and sex from last night was an aphrodisiac and Draco felt his cock harden. He wondered if he would ever have enough of this man, if he would ever tire of touching him, of kissing him, of being inside him. Somehow he doubted it.

He swiped his tongue over the edge of Harry’s ear and sucked the lobe gently until he elicited a sleepy groan and Harry’s arms reached out for him even in his sleep. Wiggling closer, he pressed against Harry’s warm body, trying to muffle the moan that rose from his own lips. God he wanted Harry. Wanted to make him moan and whimper and beg. Wanted him at this moment more than he’d ever wanted him – which in itself, was practically an impossibility – but true nevertheless.

He continued the kisses down Harry’s jaw, rough with morning stubble, to his neck where the skin was so soft he thought it might melt beneath his touch. He made his way all the way down to Harry’s left nipple before fingers threaded painfully into his hair, pressing his mouth hard against Harry’s chest, making his teeth scrape roughly against skin. Harry bucked up automatically at the sensation and groaned deliriously. “God, Draco...”

All other words slurred together when Draco took Harry’s hardening cock into his hand, alternating between slow, gentle touches and rough tugs. He was biting and sucking Harry’s quivering abs and he thought, with a self-satisfied smirk, there would be evidence of this for days.

“Draco, fuck, please, inside Draco, please,” Harry pleaded in that beautiful uncontrolled way that he had when he was too close to the edge. Draco pulled his hand away from Harry’s cock and the whimper that came from Harry’s lips washed over him like a warm breeze. He grabbed his wand from the nightstand and with a whisper pushed two fingers into Harry’s slick, tight anus. He felt himself moan, but couldn’t hear it over the delicious, intoxicating noises Harry was making. For the second time in eight hours he thought he might die from the love he felt for this incredible man underneath him.

“God, Harry.” His mouth was so dry he couldn’t even swallow, but his eyes were moist and he squeezed them shut, not wanting to speculate about why they were wet to begin with. He pulled his fingers out of Harry and poised the head of his cock right at the edge of the slick entrance, touching but not pushing. He listened to Harry’s litany of swears, relishing the feel of Harry’s nails clawing into his thighs, trying to pull him closer. Draco gasped, trying to go slowly, but knowing nothing he could do would stop him from coming too soon. He wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock again and the uncensored moans coming from Harry were enough to do him in. Somewhere in the blue haze of orgasm, he felt Harry’s cock pulse and knew he was coming too. All at once he felt an overwhelming need to bare his soul, like he’d been slipped Veritaserum and had no choice but to speak the truth, and without even thinking, he slumped on top of Harry and incoherently mumbled, “Mmm you, Harry.”

He lay there just long enough to realise what he’d said – well sort of said. His eyes flew open and he looked up at Harry, who was smiling mischievously.

Draco was suddenly nervous, as nervous as one could be during post orgasmic bliss, anyway. He chewed his lip and tried to think of some sarcastic remark to negate the fact that he had just told the Boy-Who-Lived that he loved him, while he was awake and actually listening this time. Somewhere hundreds of people were turning in their graves.

Harry simply chuckled and kissed him, mumbling against his lips, “Mmm you too, Draco.”

Draco buried his face in Harry’s neck to cover the blush he could feel slithering over his cheeks. Harry’s deep chuckle was making him bounce slightly and Harry’s fingers were running through his hair and for the thousandth time he wondered how he’d ever lived without this. Giddy feeling be damned, he decided, because at this very moment he was unbelievably happy, and if telling Harry he loved him made him feel this happy, why in the hell had it taken him so long?

Out of nowhere, a memory flashed through his mind from the first morning he’d woken up in Harry’s bed.

“I thought you were still asleep.”

“I was, but my body seems to be able to tell when I’m being watched. A useful little skill that I picked up during the war.”

“Harry? What woke you up?”

Harry’s forehead crinkled at the question that had come out of the blue. He ran his finger over Draco’s lips and smirked. “I think it was this talented mouth on my nipple,” he said, chuckling again. “Why?”

Draco smiled triumphantly. “I was watching you and you didn’t wake up.”

Harry’s eyes widened and his brows disappeared behind his messy fringe. “Really? But that’s not possible. No one's ever... not even Ron...” Harry smiled broadly, taking Draco’s face in his hands and kissing him soundly. “That has to mean something, don’t you think?”

Draco grinned wickedly. “That I’m the only person in the world that can kill you in your sleep?”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, well that too. So don’t let anyone put the Imperius on you, okay?” His eyes softened and he kissed Draco again. “It means I trust you unconditionally. Something I’ve never been able to do with anyone. Ever.”

Smiling affectionately, Draco wondered what he would have said seven years ago if someone had told him he would be the one person Harry Potter would one day trust more than anyone else? He had to laugh at the absurdity of it. “When we catch the bastard who sent me that letter, can you remind me to thank him?”

Harry arched a brow and Draco grinned. I’m rubbing off on him, he thought with glee. “If it hadn’t been for that letter, Harry, none of this would have ever happened.”

Realisation washed over Harry’s face and he nodded. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of it like that.” He kissed Draco again and threw off his covers. “Let’s go catch the son of a bitch so we can both thank him, shall we?”

Draco glanced toward the window again. “Harry, it’s still very early.”

“I know,” Harry said, sitting up in bed and searching for his trousers. “But I’m feeling incredibly lucky right now. You go down and get the letter from Corin. I’ll meet you in the library.”

Draco groaned as he sat up. “Fine, but I’m taking a shower first.”

“Okay, but leave your hair. I kind of like the just-been-shagged look,” Harry said with a wicked grin as he buttoned his shirt.

“Go away.” Draco scoffed at the smirk on Harry’s face. Hm, maybe he’s learning too well. “It takes time and effort to look this magnificent, you know.”

“In that case, take all the time you need.” Harry chuckled as he walked out the door.

“Okay, I have the letter.” Draco waved it in the air flamboyantly as he sashayed into the library an hour later, looking more gorgeous than ever and acting as though he was expecting a reward any minute.

Harry was sitting at a table covered in parchment and newspaper clippings, an intense look of concentration on his face. He looked up and smiled when he noticed Draco’s hair was fashionably mussed. Part of him wanted to say to hell with the letter and drag Draco back to bed, but he could feel they were close to something. He just didn’t know what yet. “Good,” he finally said in a tone that was all business. “Let’s dissect it piece by piece and see if it tells us anything the author didn’t mean to.”

Draco handed it to Harry with a doubtful look on his face. “Carried on many conversations with letters in your life, Potter?”

“You might be surprised, Malfoy,” Harry said mischievously. “Watch and learn.”

Draco snorted as he sat in the chair across from him.

Harry laid both letters side by side.

“Okay, I still think we’re dealing with a Slytherin.”

“Not all Slytherins became Death Eaters,” Draco said in irritation.

Harry glanced up and gave the slightest nod of acknowledgement. “Yeah, apparently not.” He stacked several pieces of parchment together and set them to the side, then sat quietly studying the letters. Draco watched in fascination as his face changed from the soft, almost childlike Harry that he loved, into Harry Potter, Saviour of the World.

“Wow,” Draco whispered under his breath.

Harry looked up at him quizzically. “What?”

“Nothing. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Harry grinned, and there he was again. His Harry. Draco shook his head and wondered what it would have been like fighting next to him in the war. What it would have felt like to work closely with him in strategy sessions, or practicing the new spells and counter curses that Draco had come up with. Of course Harry had had his Gryffindor friends for that - and that tart little Weasley girl to fawn over him. He imagined that she had filled Harry’s head with praise about how brilliant he was, how brave he was, and probably how sexy he was. The thought made Draco’s fists clench.

He had asked Harry early on about his relationship with the youngest weasel and had been abruptly cut off with a tone that said plainly ‘it’s none of your fucking business’. It was the same tone Harry used when Draco mentioned his father, so he hadn’t given it that much thought. When Harry didn’t want to talk about something, he simply didn’t, and he was a master at changing the subject. Yet last night not even her family had mentioned her. It was as if she didn’t exist. Draco was far from a Weasley family expert, but he knew enough to consider that somewhat strange.

“You’re supposed to at least be following along, you know?” Harry said without a hint of irritation.

Draco realised Harry had been talking and he had thoroughly tuned him out. “Sorry, Oh Wise One, please enlighten me,” he said dramatically.

Harry snorted and continued with what Draco would later call ‘a most impressive show of deductive reasoning’. “We know he’s spent time in France, but Corin said the owl left immediately after delivering the second letter, without resting, so we must assume it was local.” He shuffled a few more pieces of parchment. “He was obviously a supporter of the Light during the war, and knows enough about me to be familiar with the wards here.”

Draco listened attentively this time as Harry went on and on, drawing conclusions just from the way the letters were worded and the words that were used, things he wouldn’t have picked up on in a thousand years. Harry paused, shuffled a few more papers, and then looked up with dawning realization twinkling in his eyes. “We’re looking for someone like you, Draco. Someone who had a reason to switch sides. Someone with a grudge against Voldemort and who, for some reason, hated you.”

Harry sat back heavily in his chair and the twinkle faded. “Fuck, I’ve narrowed it down to half of Europe.”

“I don’t think quite half of Europe hated me, perhaps a third, but not half.” Draco grinned, but Harry didn’t grin back. “Come on, Harry, why don’t we take a break for lunch? We’ve made progress. Maybe a little distance will help us make some connections that we can’t see when we’re staring right at it.”

Harry sighed and slammed his quill on the table. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll go find Dobby.”

“No, Harry. Go sit down and relax. I’ll find Dobby and organise lunch.”

When Draco got back to the sitting room, Harry was stretched out on the sofa reading the Daily Prophet.

“Dobby says lunch will be ready in half an hour.” Draco shoved Harry’s feet off the sofa playfully so he could sit down. “Anything interesting in there?”

Harry held up the cover. It had a full page photo of the two of them, sitting on the very same sofa, holding hands and laughing.

Draco waggled his eyebrows. “Not bad. He even managed to get a shot where your hair’s not sticking straight up in the air.”

“We do look rather dashing don’t we?”

Draco smirked “Of course we do. How’s the article?”

Harry looked chagrined. “Well, apparently I’m the lucky one in this little relationship of ours. Sebastian’s either brave or stupid, because he’s obviously still smitten with you. Even after the death glares I gave him yesterday.”

“Harry, after yesterday, I’ll be surprised if the man ever speaks to me again.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. According to him, if you ever get bored, there are lots of other wands in the shop.”

Draco laughed. “He actually wrote that, ‘wands in the shop’?”

Harry bit his lip to keep from saying something foolish and simply nodded.

“Well, Harry.” Draco climbed catlike into Harry’s lap, straddling him. “The only wand I’m interested in at the moment is yours,” he said in that low purr that made Harry’s whole body bristle in anticipation.

“But I hardly ever use my wand, remember?”

Draco smirked, his lips only a hair’s breath away from Harry’s. “Oh, but you do, Harry. You use it very, very, well.” He leaned in until his lips touched Harry’s, then suddenly pulled away. “Oh, I’d almost forgotten.”

Harry looked at him as if he were mad, and thought that if he didn’t put those lips back where they belonged, he might break a few more vases. “What?” he asked gruffly.

“Well, I was thinking about what you said yesterday, and I’ve decided I really do think about sex too much.”

The look on Harry’s face was worth a vault full of Galleons and Draco’s smirk was even more smug than usual.

Harry shook his head and pulled Draco closer. “You’ll pay for your cheek later, Draco. You do realise that, don’t you?”

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck. He leaned in close and whispered in his sexiest, come-get-me voice, “You never know; I might like paying.” He felt Harry’s breath hitch and had to smirk again as he exhaled and let the warm breath wash over Harry’s ear and made him quiver. He’ll get me back for this, Draco thought and smiled broadly, knowing it was just one more thing to look forward to.

“Lunch is served in the dining room, sirs.”

Harry’s annoyed groan was comical and Draco could have sworn he saw a wicked smile flicker across the house-elf’s face.

“I’ll have the sugar-coated Malfoy and the broiled house-elf, please,” Harry deadpanned.

Dobby eeped before disappearing and Draco rolled off Harry and dissolved into a fit of laughter. “I’m telling Granger. She won’t take kindly to news of you tormenting your house-elf, Potter.”

“Oh, fuck, Draco, don’t you dare.” Harry rolled on top of Draco and was laughing just as hard. “She’ll feed my nuts to the trolls.”

They both lay there laughing, legs and arms tangled, realising how very much they needed this. “I never would have guessed you could be this much fun, Harry.”

“And I never would have guessed you could be so compassionate.”

Draco stilled immediately and Harry wondered if he had said the wrong thing. But one look in Draco’s eyes told him just the opposite. “Only with you, Harry. To everyone else, I’m still an arrogant bastard.”

“That’s not entirely true. Charlie actually said he liked you last night. And the twins have practically adopted you.”

Draco looked at Harry doubtfully. “There are two Weasleys that still hate me.”

“Ron will come around eventually, and Bill doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t blame you for what Greyback did to him.”

“I wasn’t talking about Bill,” Draco said cautiously. “I was talking about Ginny.”

Harry’s warm expression instantly turned to stone. “Come on, let’s go have lunch.” Harry sat up briskly and began untangling himself from Draco’s limbs.

“Harry, wait--”

“I can’t, Draco. I...” Harry buried his face into his hands and rubbed his temples. “Look, what happened between me and Ginny... it was a fucked up mess, okay. I just don’t want to dwell on it.”

Draco sat up and let out an exasperated huff. “And avoiding the discussion is helping, how, exactly?” he asked critically.

Harry shook his head and looked up at Draco solemnly. “You really don’t want to know what happened. Trust me.”

Something in Harry’s eyes told Draco that maybe he was right, that maybe he didn’t want to know. They had come so far, but this was just another reminder of how many bridges they had yet to cross. He could only hope that when the time came, the foundation they were building wouldn’t crumble beneath them.

The Culprit

Over lunch they talked about the clues Harry had uncovered, but nothing glaringly obvious jumped out at them, and Harry was left feeling frustrated. He had a very bad feeling about this new letter. It sounded almost desperate, and Harry had dealt with enough desperate men during the war to know that he should be apprehensive. He didn’t understand how Draco handled the situation with such ease. After all, when it came right down to it, it really was his arse on the line.

“Draco, can I ask you something?”

“Well, Potter, you just did,” Draco said smugly.

Harry had to grin. Draco hadn’t called him Potter in weeks, and he had to admit, he’d missed it. Somehow being reminded of where they had started made even the most daunting task seem possible. “Why is it that you haven’t mentioned any of your friends since you’ve been here?”

Draco laid his fork down carefully on his plate and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. Harry knew this gesture well by now. He was buying time to come up with an appropriate answer.

“Malfoys don’t have friends, Harry. We have business associates and acquaintances, not friends. Besides, switching sides in the middle of a war and living in isolation for seven years tends to wreak havoc on one’s social life.”

“But there must be someone--”

“Who, Harry?” Draco asked abruptly. “The friends I had in school are either dead, missing, or in Azkaban. For the first three years I was in France the only contact I had, other than house-elves, were owls from Sheba and Snape, assuming the spy actually was Snape. Then I hired Corin and Evrard; they’re the closest thing I have to friends and they can’t even call me by my real name.”

Harry was caught off guard by the harshness of his tone and he almost snapped back defensively. Almost, that is, until he realised what Draco had actually said. Everyone he had ever cared about was gone. His parents, his family, his friends – they were all gone and Draco would never see them again. “I’m sorry, Draco, I didn’t think...” His heart felt like it was bleeding melted lava. He knew all too well how it felt to lose the people you loved, and he’d not even thought about how Draco had lost not only his family to that fucking war, but his friends as well. God, it’s no wonder Draco had gone after Voldemort with such a vengeance. The urge to protect the man from any more pain had never been stronger. He got up from the table and knelt beside Draco’s chair, taking his hands and twining their fingers together. “I’m sorry, Draco. But I won’t let anyone else hurt you. I promised you that, and I’ll keep that promise if it kills me.” He leaned his head against Draco’s chest and wondered why he felt like he could cry a river if he let himself.

Draco laid his cheek on the top of Harry’s head and said very calmly, “No, Harry, if it kills you, you won’t be keeping your promise, because I think that would be the one thing that would hurt me more than anything else.”

Harry looked up at Draco and he was reminded of a picture he saw in one of Dudley’s storybooks when he was very little. A picture of a small boy kneeling next to a man Aunt Petunia had called the Messiah. From this angle, with the light shining behind his head, and the solemn look on his face, Draco looked like the man in that picture. Well, Harry chuckled to himself, except for the blond hair and fair skin and grey eyes. The thought of how badly Draco would hex him if he knew he was being compared to the saviour of the Muggle world made him smile.

Draco looked at him curiously, but luckily, before Harry was forced to explain, they were interrupted by Evrard entering the dining room.

“Hello, Evrard, care to join us for lunch?” Harry asked cheerfully as he stood up and shook the other man’s hand.

“No, thank you, Mr. Potter, I--”

“How many times do I need to ask you to call me Harry?” He said it in a pleasant, teasing tone that made Draco roll his eyes.

“Potter, leave him alone. He can call you whatever he wants.” Draco turned to Evrard and winked. “What can we do for you, Evrard?”

“Several letters came for you this morning, and you said--”

“Thank you, Evrard. I’ll take them,” Draco said quickly as he stood and took the pile Evrard was holding. After missing the letters from the Weasleys all those weeks, Draco had given strict instructions to bring any personal letters to them immediately, but he felt badly now that he’d been a little harsh when he’d said it. Harry had been upset that he’d not received the Weasleys' letters, and when Harry got upset, Draco got upset. He gave Evrard a repentant smile that he hoped would suffice as an apology.

“Thanks, Evrard,” Harry said, wondering what was going on between him and Draco. “It was very nice of you to bring these up.”

Evrard raised an eyebrow at Draco, who was all but pushing him out of the dining room.

When Draco sat back down in his chair Harry was grinning. “Did you yell at him about the letters I didn’t get?”

“What? Of course not. I don’t yell,” Draco said somewhat sheepishly.

Harry just laughed and shook his head. All of the letters were addressed to Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, Hotel Varno Domov, London. Draco smirked at that and tore open the first one. It was from Mrs. Weasley, owling to thank them both for coming to dinner and saying she hoped they would be able to come again very soon.

Harry laughed out loud as he read the letter from the twins. They wanted to know when Harry would loosen Draco’s chains long enough for him to come to the shop. They were having trouble with some particularly tricky projects and thought Draco would be just the person to help. It was signed with a little stick figure that was winking seductively.

“Who’s the package from?” Harry asked as Draco began pulling out file after file - far more than it looked like the small package should be able to hold.

“Sheba,” Draco answered as he stacked them on the table in front of his plate. The pile was almost two feet tall before Draco found the letter that accompanied it. “She says this is all the files on the Ministry’s dealings with the French government, and that we have to have them back by morning or,” Draco looked over the stack and smirked, “and I quote, ‘My arse will be out of a job and good luck finding another Minister who will put up with the two of you.’”

Harry chuckled and picked up the top file, perusing it as he ripped open the last letter. He gaped as he read it and silently handed it to Draco.

Draco read through it, then flipped it over, searching for the address. “Are you sure this was addressed to both of us?”

Harry nodded, his expression still showing as much surprise as Draco’s. “He wants to meet us tonight for dinner. Both of us.”

Draco stared at the neatly written ‘Ronald Weasley’. Under it was a name which Draco assumed was Weasley’s place of employment. “What exactly is the Potter Foundation for Governmental and Journalistic Integrity?”

Harry laughed. He’d always hated that name, but thought it sounded even stranger when Draco said it. “It’s an independent watchdog group that Ron and Hermione set up after the war. Its goal is to ‘keep the Ministry honest and prevent its interference in the public’s right to be duly informed of matters that affect them’. In other words, to prevent things like what happened with Fudge and Umbridge in our fifth year.”

Draco cringed.

“Yeah, Mr. Inquisitorial Squad, that kind of stuff,” Harry said with a crooked grin.

“I was just a kid, you know.”

“Yeah, Draco, I know.” He gave Draco’s hand a squeeze to remind him that it was all in the past. “But Ron’s pretty determined to make sure nothing like that happens again.” Harry dished himself up another serving of mashed potatoes before continuing. “After he and Hermione split up, Susan Bones stepped in and the two of them run it now. He’s completely obsessed with it. Pretty much all he does is work and sleep.”

“So is that really why he wasn’t at dinner last night?”

“No. I’m sure it wasn’t the only reason,” Harry said tonelessly, but Draco could see the hurt in his eyes.

Draco looked at the antique mahogany grandfather clock in the corner and stood up, grabbing half of the pile of files. “Well, we should look over this new information before dinner then, shouldn’t we?”

Harry looked gobsmacked. “What? Just like that? No whining, no arguing?”

Sighing heavily, Draco answered, “The sooner I face him, the sooner it’ll be over with. At least at a public place there will be witnesses if he tries to kill me.”

Harry shook his head sadly. Draco sat the files down and pulled Harry up from his chair, wrapping him into a warm hug. “Look, Harry, he’s your friend and I can tell you miss him. He’s had months to get used to the idea of us being together, and whatever your problems have been in the past, he still wants to see you. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“You don’t know him, Draco. He’s more stubborn than a centaur, and more hard-headed than a Hippogriff.”

“Hm, sounds like someone else I know.”

Harry opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but Draco cut him off before he had the chance. “I’m just kidding. I promise to be extra charming at dinner. But for now...” He picked up one of the stacks of files and handed them to Harry. “Let’s get back to work.”

~~~~

“Draco? Does the name Vaisey ring a bell?”

“Hmm,” Draco mused. “Not really, why?”

Harry was searching frantically through the pile of old newspapers that Hermione had brought. “The first letter, do you have it?” Harry asked, sounding almost excited.

“Of course I have it, Potter. Where else would it be?” Draco said, smirking.

Harry rolled his eyes and feigned annoyance. “Do you remember what it said about your father?”

“Not exactly.” Draco picked the letter up from the table he was working at and scanned it to find the one sentence that Harry was looking for. “It says, ‘I hope your father is happy’.”

Harry crinkled his forehead. “Doesn’t that seem a little odd?”

“Well,” Draco said, wondering why he hadn’t questioned it before. “I just assumed whoever wrote the letter didn’t know my father was dead.”

“But everyone knew. It was front page news for weeks.” At the wince from Draco, Harry softened his voice and reined in his enthusiasm. “Sorry, Draco, I--”

“Don’t be,” Draco said, cutting him off quickly. “We have a job to do here; let’s just do it, okay?”

Harry nodded, knowing from experience that dwelling on the deaths of those he loved wouldn’t help Draco right now. “Why did he say ‘happy’ instead of ‘well’? If they thought your father was alive, wouldn’t they have said, ‘I hope your father is well’?”

Draco ran the words through his mind, and then shrugged. “Yes, that’s what I would’ve said, but to say happy isn’t unheard of.” He looked at Harry curiously. “What are you getting at?”

Harry moved to another table and sat down, shifting through various piles of parchment. “Aha,” he said triumphantly when he found what he was looking for. “Thaddeus Vaisey.”

Draco walked to where Harry sat. Laying his hands on the other man’s shoulders, he leaned over to see what Harry was looking at. “What have you found?”

“Thaddeus Vaisey was at Hogwarts with us, a few years younger, in Slytherin.” Harry looked up at Draco, rubbing his head against Draco’s abdomen in the process. He placed a hand over one of Draco’s. “You won’t want to read this, but I think you should.” Harry handed Draco the old copy of the Prophet he had taken from the other table, pointing to a small article buried by adverts.

“I still don’t understand. What does this have to do with anything?”

“Look at this.” Harry handed Draco one of the parchments that Sheba had sent. “Those are the minutes from a meeting two years ago between Sheba and the French Minister. Thaddeus Vaisey was the aide who took down the minutes.”

Draco looked up from the parchment with wide eyes. “You think this is it? That Jeremiah Vaisey is Thaddeus Vaisey’s father and he somehow blames my father for his death?”

“And he thinks you should pay for it with your life,” Harry said with finality.

Draco shook his head. “It seems like a stretch, Harry.”

“No. If you think about it, it makes perfect sense. No one but you knew it was an assassination. Everyone thought Voldemort was breaking your father out of Azkaban and it blew up in his face. If Thaddeus Vaisey’s father was killed in the muck-up, it would be a legitimate reason for him to turn against Voldemort and side with the light. That gives us our Slytherin ‘good-guy’--”

“But wouldn’t you know him if he fought on your side?”

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. “You mean ‘our side’ don’t you?”

Draco waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Wouldn’t you have known him?”

“Not necessarily. Especially not if he joined right after your father was killed. I was busy searching for the...” Harry stopped abruptly, remembering that Draco still knew nothing about the Horcruxes. That was another thing they would have to talk about eventually, but Harry thought they had enough to think about at the moment. “I had my hands full at the time and spent most of my time with Ron and Hermione. Plus there were so many new recruits, I wouldn’t have really noticed. People flocked to our side by the hundreds after Dumbledore’s death.” Harry shook his head sadly. “Having him killed was probably the worst mistake Voldemort ever made.”

Draco looked down at his hands self-consciously, wondering how different his life would have turned out if he’d actually been able to kill the old man. He’d never dreamed it would be his cowardice that would save his life. He liked to think that it was more than that, that it had been his conscience that had caused him to lower his wand, that it was compassion, not fear, which had paralyzed him. But in the dark silence of night, when the nightmares took over, he knew the truth. He sat heavily in the chair next to Harry. “After the war, I stopped using glamours when I went out. If he was living in France, he could have easily seen me.”

Harry chewed his lip, wondering what Draco was thinking about that would make him look so sad. Did he still carry guilt over his part in Dumbledore’s death? Of course he does, Harry chastised himself. Something like that never goes away, no matter how much you try to make up for it. He knew this from personal experience, and somehow, the fact that Draco had his own demons made Harry feel even closer to him. But now was not the time for that conversation. “Maybe he decided you would be a good target for even more revenge. And the Fidelius was off because of Snape’s death, so he could have followed you and found out you were posing as Sir Aertsen.”

“But why send an ingenuous letter? And why wait until now?”

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “Now that I don’t know.”

Draco looked at Harry with dawning realisation. “Unless he was rounding up reinforcements.”

Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. So, if it is him, he has a monumental grudge against you and he might not be working alone. Fantastic.” He looked at Draco and was surprised to see a grin spreading over his face. Harry raised his eyebrows in question.

“I was just thinking maybe hiding out here forever isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile as he reached out and took Draco’s hand, knowing this was Draco’s way to cover up his anxiety. “I wouldn’t complain.”

Draco gave Harry’s hand a squeeze. “We should owl Sheba. See if she can find out more about our old classmate Thaddeus.”

Harry stood but didn’t let go of Draco’s hand. He hesitated for a minute before leaning down to kiss him warmly. “I’ll go send the owl. You... just... don’t worry, okay?”

Draco smiled up at him. “I’m not worried. I have Harry Potter watching my back. Why would I be worried?” When Harry didn’t smile back, Draco reached up and brushed his hand along Harry’s check. “Besides, I know plenty of hexes that never made it into those books. Together we’re invincible – you should know that by now.”

Harry finally smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I should.”

He leaned over to kiss Draco again, but this time Draco grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down into a kiss that made Harry’s knees buckle. He knelt next to Draco and ran his hands up the other man’s thighs, turning him in his chair so they were facing and pressing his body between Draco’s knees. It seemed like an inappropriate time to for his cock to get hard, but it was inevitable anytime they were this close. Deft fingers were threading through his hair and a warm tongue was lapping at his mouth and all he could do was pull the man closer until he felt, with satisfaction, Draco’s hard length against him. Harry moaned at the touch and shivers of need went spiralling out of control.

Just when Harry was ready to pull him off the chair and throw him to the floor Draco pulled away and smirked. “While you send the owl to Sheba, I’ll get ready for dinner. We wouldn’t want to make the weasel wait, now would we?”

Harry growled and shook his head as he let it fall against Draco’s chest. “Now I know what your plan is. You’ve been plotting all along to kill me with sexual frustration.”

Draco’s chuckle made Harry’s head bounce and it reminded Harry of just how much he loved to hear the man laugh. When he finally leaned back to look up, Draco’s grey eyes were glistening.

“That would be a fitting death for the Man-Who-Would-Be-Gay, but not on my watch, I’m afraid.”

“Good,” Harry said as he stood, adjusting his trousers while Draco eyed him with that beautiful, infuriating smirk. He walked to the writing desk and quickly grabbed a quill and began to write.

As Draco strolled nonchalantly out the door toward the bedroom, he call out over his shoulder, “Make sure she can read it – you’re awfully messy when you’re in a hurry.”

Harry scowled as he wadded the piece of parchment and threw it into the bin, mumbling under his breath about skinny, smart-arsed, sexy blond Slytherins.

Secrets

By the time Draco had finished his shower, Harry was already dressed and ready for dinner. “You’re not planning to wear that, are you?” Draco asked with an amused grin.

Harry looked at himself in the mirror and shrugged. “It’s just Ron, why do I need to dress up?”

“Because, my dear Harry, you will be with me.” Apparently, in Draco’s mind, that was all the explanation necessary. He began shuffling through Harry’s wardrobe and pulled out a much nicer outfit and a casual wizarding robe. “There, that will be much better,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

Harry thought that on some level this should make him angry - that Draco should be able to accept him exactly as he was and not worry about such meaningless things. But he wasn’t upset in the least. He was touched that Draco cared enough to want them to look good together when they were in public. It was a twisted sense of logic, but it had certainly helped to keep the peace over the last few months. Of course it helped that Harry knew Draco would gaze at him all night like he wanted to have him for dinner instead of the entrée. On second thought, with Ron being there, that might be a very bad thing.

It took Harry a total of ten minutes to get changed, in which time Draco had managed to dry his hair. Only. Harry couldn’t help but smile while he sat and watched Draco primp. There was no doubt the man was a marvel in human form, but Harry thought he looked just as amazing before all his preening as he did after.

He especially liked how he’d looked sprawled out, naked, on their bed an hour ago. How he’d sounded when Harry’s tongue had made him moan and whimper and call out obscenities and prayers to gods Harry knew he didn’t believe in. How his face had had that faraway look of ecstasy when he came, filling Harry with a warmth that went way beyond the physical. But more than anything else, Harry loved the look Draco had given him afterward, his eyes brightened by the glow of the afternoon sun as it filtered through the window, when he had said with a trembling voice, I love you, Harry.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Draco asked as he gazed in the mirror at Harry’s reflection over his shoulder.

“Hm? Oh.” Harry knew he was blushing furiously, but couldn’t be bothered to care. Draco was perfect, everything he’d ever wanted, and he was his - his to stare at as much as he liked, his to kiss as often as he liked, his to touch whenever he liked, his to love - always.

Draco turned from the mirror, glanced at the bulge in Harry’s trousers and snorted, both pride and amusement dancing in his eyes. “God, Harry, what on earth did you do before I moved in?”

Harry’s heart had swelled to about as big as it could possibly get and he felt giddy just from Draco’s smile. He thought about the men who had been in his bed before Draco, of the relationships he had thought he’d wanted. In that moment he realised that before Draco, he’d never known real desire, real pleasure, real love. Harry shook his head, unable to put any of this into words that would make any sense. “I didn’t do anything, Draco. I didn’t have you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are we here half an hour early?”

“Because if we had stayed at home, I would have ripped that fine silk robe off your body and we would have been an hour late.”

Draco arched that beautiful eyebrow - because he’d figured out by now exactly what that did to Harry - and grinned. “Which just makes me ask once again, why are we here half an hour early?”

Harry chuckled. “Besides, I needed a stiff drink before I could face Ron.”

Draco rubbed his hands over Harry’s back trying to soothe his rattled nerves. “I don’t understand why you’re so nervous. It’s just the Weasel.”

“I’m not nervous,” Harry said defiantly.

Draco raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘right’. Harry rolled his eyes as if to say, ‘sod off’. Draco’s lips quirked up into a smile. “Well, now that we have that out of the way, why don’t you tell me what happened between the two of you?”

Harry sat in sullen silence trying not to think about what had really happened between them. He knew if he was totally honest with himself, his problems with Ron had nothing to do with him being gay. That excuse had always been the easiest way for them both to avoid the truth, but he’d deluded himself as long as he could on the matter. There was no way to explain that to Draco, though, without opening a horrible basket of poisonous snakes. They would surely have the conversation eventually, but he didn’t think he was ready for it yet. Just the thought of how Draco might react was more than Harry could bear. If there was anything that could drive him away, he knew this was the secret that would do it. As he glanced toward the door he took a deep breath and steeled himself for a heated confrontation.

When Ron strolled through the door, though, his expression was anything but confrontational. It was solemn and almost remorseful. All the negative feelings Harry had been harbouring fled completely from his mind and he was suddenly just happy to see his friend. His friend who had always helped him when he really needed it. His friend who had sacrificed himself countless times to save Harry’s arse. Even through the horror that had torn them apart, Harry knew Ron was his friend and suddenly that was all that mattered.

Harry’s expression must have showed something other than relief, because the first words out of Ron’s mouth were, “Hey, mate. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m...” Harry began before losing all train of thought. “What happened to your eye?”

Ron reached up and tenderly touched his left eye that, while no longer swollen, had turned a putrid purplish green. “Fred.”

Harry looked at him sceptically. “Fred gave you a black eye? Why?”

“We had a disagreement, that’s all. You know how they are sometimes. It’s not a big deal, really.”

“Yes, Ron, I know how they are and they don’t throw punches at their brother for nothing. What did you do?”

“I said something stupid about somebody, that’s all.” Ron sat at the table across from Harry and fidgeted nervously under Harry’s scrutiny. “I was out of line and they put me back in. End of story, okay?”

Harry was grinning from ear to ear. There was way more to this story than Ron was telling and he could definitely use a distraction right now. “What did you say, Ron? You know if you don’t tell me Fred will. Who did you insult this time?”

Ron hadn’t acknowledged Draco yet, but his eyes darted quickly in his direction, then back to Harry before mumbling, “Muboy.”

“I’m sorry, what? I didn’t quiet catch that?” Harry teased.

“Malfoy, okay! I said something really stupid about Malfoy and Fred decked me. Then George kicked me out and told me to come back when I wasn’t acting like an eleven-year-old. Happy?”

Harry didn’t think ‘happy’ was the right word. He had known that if the twins accepted Draco, it would only be a matter of time before everyone else would, but he hadn’t expected such loyalty from them so soon. He glanced at Draco just in time to see his smug, self-satisfied smirk.

“So, what did you say?” Harry asked cautiously.

“You think I’m stupid enough to repeat it? One black eye’s enough, thank you very much.” The attempt at humour was a thin disguise for his seriousness. He put down the menu he’d been fiddling with and looked directly at Harry. “Look, can I just say what I have to say without interruption, and then if you want to chuck me out on my arse too, you can go ahead.”

Harry reached out instinctively and took Draco’s hand. He wasn’t sure if it was to comfort Draco or himself, all he knew was he needed to touch the man, to know that he was there.

“No,” Draco interrupted. If they were going to have this conversation, they could at least do it with some decorum. “First we order. Then we talk like civilized wizards.”

Ron looked at Draco and nodded slightly.

The waiter appeared at that moment, and after they placed their orders Harry looked up at Ron expectantly. He started to say something, but Ron cut him off before he had the chance. “Hermione told me about the letter, the second one, the one that threatens your life as well as Malfoy’s. And she’s right. If anything ever happened to you without us at least trying to work things out, I’d never forgive myself. I don’t even know how we let it get this far out of hand without either talking about it or killing each other. It’s just that... after what happened with Gi--”

The green daggers that were, just moments before, Harry’s eyes, were stabbing into Ron with the intention of, if not killing, at least maiming horribly, and Draco felt a sense of smugness that he had only received a hard stare when he had mentioned the Weasley girl. But when Draco looked closer he noticed the lines around Harry’s eyes seemed to have deepened and his teeth were clenched together, not in anger, but in pain. Draco turned to judge Ron’s reaction and was surprised to see the same mix of rage and anguish reflected in his face. What in the hell, Draco wondered, could have possibly happened to drive a wedge this firmly between Harry and the man who’d been his best friend since the age of eleven?

“Look, I’m a berk, okay? I’m sorry I blamed you for that. I was dead wrong and I know it. I should have trusted you. And the gay thing... I don’t give a damn who you sleep with Harry. I just--”

“I know,” Harry interrupted in a quiet voice. “I know, Ron. We should have talked about it instead of ignoring it but I still can’t, okay? Can you accept that?”

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said, nodding sombrely. “I think I finally can.”

Draco was looking back and forth between the two men wondering what exactly it was that he was missing.

Finally Harry leaned in to kiss him, and Draco could tell it was a plea. Begging him not to ask, because Harry wasn’t ready to tell him yet. Whatever this secret was, it had hurt Harry more deeply than Draco could fathom and it cut him to the core that Harry didn’t trust him enough to share it. He was jolted back in time eight years. Back to a time when he’d watched the golden trio from across the Great Hall, head’s together, talking quietly of secrets and shared experiences. He bit his lip hard to stop the cutting remark that instinct was urging him to make. He wanted to lash out at Harry and ask why he didn’t trust him, but Harry was squeezing his hand a little too tightly and begging him with his eyes and all Draco could do was sigh. It was then that he truly understood without a doubt, that Harry had become more important to him than he, himself was. That he would always put Harry’s needs before his own and as much as it frightened him, there was no way around it. He loved the man. And while Malfoys may be selfish, back-stabbing bastards, when they love someone, they’ll do almost anything to protect them.

Ron turned his attention to Draco, completely oblivious to the internal firestorm that was raging away in Draco’s chest. “I’ve read the papers, Malfoy, and while I admit I didn’t much believe it at first, everyone else seems to. Even Hermione says you really have changed.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, but somehow Draco felt he was waiting for an answer. It was irritating to feel like he needed to explain himself to anyone, but even more so to Weasley. “Well, if Granger says I have, then it must be true. After all, the woman’s never wrong, is she?”

Ron looked at Draco impassively. “Can you just be straight please?”

Draco smirked on the inside, and almost said something about how, no, he couldn’t be straight, and neither could Harry. But he thought that might be considered inflammatory talk. “I think it’s safe to say the last seven years have changed us all. If you need a detailed list of what has and hasn’t changed, come back in a month and I’ll have it prepared for you.”

Ron actually laughed. “Fred said you had a surprisingly good sense of humour if you could get past the sarcasm. I guess he was right.” The tone of Ron’s voice was friendly, almost jovial and Harry and Draco both stared at him as if he’d just sprouted horns and was dancing around a fire stark naked.

Ignoring both of their stares, Ron looked Draco square in the eyes and continued, “Look, Malfoy, I... bloody hell, I know we’ve hated each other since the day we were born, but we’ve never had anything in common before and now we do... so can we just...” Ron fidgeted in his seat and looked from Draco to Harry. “I know you don’t need my blessing or anything, but I’m offering it anyway, and I hope you’ll both accept it.”

Draco wanted to say something vicious. To throw the apology back into Weasley’s face and tell him to go fuck himself. But one look at Harry and he knew once again he was the one who was fucked, because this was what Harry wanted. To be accepted. To be one big happy fucking family where everyone sings carols around a gaudy old tree at Christmas and goes to pubs for drinks after watching a Quidditch game and gathers around the Weasley table for birthday celebrations. Draco didn’t need friends, but Harry did. And damn him to hell, but Draco would give Harry anything he asked for. He looked Weasley in the eye and nodded. It was the best he could do.

By the time dessert was being served, most of the tension between Ron and Harry had disappeared and they were chatting and laughing like nothing had ever come between them. Part of Draco hated it, resented the fact that Weasley could waltz back into their lives so easily. But another part, the part that relished the smile on Harry’s face, the glimmer in his eyes, the warmth of his laugh – that part of Draco was grateful. Grateful that no matter what happened to him, that even if the bastard who wanted to kill him succeeded, Harry would have his friends to help him through it. Amazingly, the Weasel was right. Now they really did have something in common.

Just as they were about to dig into their desserts, Corin sat down casually in the chair next to Harry. The rest of Draco’s detail had gone home, but Corin and Evrard had asked to stay, and Harry was more than happy to have their help. The two Frenchmen had grown on him, and they were obviously very loyal to Draco, which was something Harry respected a great deal.

Corin smiled genially, as if he’d just been invited to share their dessert, saying through his smile, “Far left corner.”

Draco stared at Harry, but made no movement to look.

Harry leaned in as if to whisper into Draco’s ear and glanced over in the direction Corin had indicated. There was a man sitting with his back against the wall, facing their table.

“He came in right after you did, and has been watching you both a little too closely for my comfort,” Corin said, still in that tone that indicated he was talking to an old friend about a recent holiday.

“Damn,” Harry said quietly. “I wish we knew what Vaisey looked like.”

Draco nodded and squeezed the hand that had somehow found its way into his in the last thirty seconds without Draco even realising it. “Should we Apparate?”

“No, then he’ll know we’re on to him. Just act normally and let Corin and Evrard keep an eye out. It could be that he just recognises us. We do get stared at everywhere we go, remember?” Harry was trying to sound a lot less worried than he was. The man looked suspicious, and it was pretty obvious he wasn’t just an adoring fan.

“Harry, maybe Malfoy’s right. You should go back to the hotel. I’ll keep an eye on this guy.”

Corin looked at Draco and nodded his agreement.

“No,” Draco said firmly. “Harry’s right, it could be nothing. And if it is him, Disapparating will cause a commotion and you could lose him. If that’s Vaisey, we don’t want to give him the chance to get away.”

Ron looked at Draco curiously, wondering who this Vaisey character was that they kept talking about.

“Corin, wait a few minutes, then go back to your table with Evrard and keep a close eye out,” Draco said in his ‘I’m the boss’ tone. “If he does anything suspicious, hex first and ask questions later.”

Harry gave a slight nod and turned to Ron. He raised his eyebrows slightly, giving Ron a look that said ‘Wand out, be ready for anything.’ He’d given that look to Ron hundreds of times during the war and he could think of no one he’d rather have next to him in battle. Even at their worst, when they were barely civil to each other, Ron was always the one Harry wanted by his side.

A huge grin split Ron’s face and he nodded. “Yeah, mate, I’m ready.”

Harry turned to Draco just in time to see the look of betrayal that crossed his face and it dawned on Harry just how hard this must be for him. To sit here all evening and politely listen to him and Ron tell war stories and reminisce about old times. Times where Draco had been excluded at best, and hated at worst. Times when he and Ron had been getting drunk between battles and Draco had been mourning his parents, isolated and alone, working day and night to save all their bloody arses.

Suddenly he couldn’t care less what Ron thought. He ran his hand lightly through Draco’s hair and leaned in to taste his warm lips, swearing to himself he would thank Draco properly when they got home.

Draco stiffened slightly at first, but melted the moment Harry’s lips touched his. Had they not been interrupted by Corin clearing his throat, they would have snogged right then and there.

Corin grinned at them before standing to return to his seat, but before he’d got there, five figures Apparated next to the other man and started firing off hexes.

The restaurant was engulfed in a wave of chaos, sending patrons scurrying under their tables as they screamed. Harry’s gut instinct was to fling himself onto Draco to protect him, but he quickly realised that if he did, he’d be hexed silly. Draco’s wand was raised already and he was firing off hexes as fast as he could.

Ron was out of his seat in the blink of an eye and Harry stood just as quickly, surveying the room to make sure none of the men could get a clear shot at Draco. Corin and Evrard were deeply engaged with two of the men in one corner of the room, but the other four were advancing quickly in their direction, shielding everything Draco and Ron threw at them.

Harry waited until they were close enough, then, with a single sweep of his hand he knocked down everything in his path, the men included. Draco turned quickly to assist Corin and Evrard, while Ron moved immediately to try to bind the fallen men. It was too late though; all six of them Apparated away as quickly as they had come.

The little squat man that owned the restaurant came running out to make sure everyone was okay and to survey the damage. His assistant was owling the Aurors, and Harry was casting around furiously to try to get a trace of their Apparation trail. “They’re gone,” he finally said angrily. “I can’t trace them, and if I can’t the Aurors won’t be able to either. “Fuck!” Harry slammed his fist onto the table so hard Draco heard something crack, and he sincerely hoped it was the table, not Harry’s hand.

“What exactly just happened, Harry?” Ron asked cautiously.

“What did it look like, Ron?” Harry barked, angry at himself for letting the men get away and ready to take it out on the first person he saw. “The bastards just tried to kill Draco and I almost let them.” Harry was coming down from his adrenaline high and his hands were starting to tremble. It hit him suddenly how close he’d come to losing Draco and all he wanted was to hold him in his arms.

As if Draco had heard his thoughts, he wrapped his arms around Harry, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m okay, Harry. You didn’t let them, they didn’t even get close.” He looked up and smiled before placing a warm kiss on Harry’s lips. Draco glanced at Ron, daring him to say anything, but to his surprise, Ron was... well, not exactly smiling. He looked more like a drunken bullfrog who was trying to grin. But still, it wasn’t the look of disgust Draco had expected.

“Maybe you should get Malfoy home,” Ron said with concern. “He’s looking a little pale, even for him.”

Evrard agreed, saying he and Corin would stay until the Aurors arrived. They knew what information could be divulged and what couldn’t.

Harry glanced down at the face of the man who was now nuzzling into his neck like a lost kitten. He nodded and pulled Draco tightly to his chest before disappearing with a soft pop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once safely ensconced back at the hotel, Harry settled Draco on the sofa and hovered over him protectively. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laden with concern.

“I’m not an injured lamb, Harry,” Draco snapped, secretly basking in Harry’s concern, but not wanting to appear any weaker than he already had. When he’d laid his head on Harry’s shoulder at the restaurant he’d been trying to comfort him, but the emotional upheaval of the whole evening had finally caught up with him and he’d felt himself slowly falling apart. He was actually grateful to Weasley for suggesting Harry bring him home. “I’m fine, really, Harry,” he said in a softer tone. “Just a bit shaken.” He brushed his fingers gently over Harry’s cheek. “I’m not used to people caring, that’s all.”

Harry wrapped Draco in his arms and kissed the nape of his neck tenderly. “I care,” he mumbled.

“I know,” Draco said huskily, deeply touched by the emotion in Harry’s voice. Those two little words, coming from him, meant more than a thousand words of love and devotion would mean coming from anyone else. He threaded his fingers roughly through Harry’s hair and tugged him up to gaze into his eyes. The connection between them was almost overwhelming, and the turmoil of the evening had him confused and reeling. There were so many emotions battling inside him - the pain he’d felt because Harry couldn’t trust him, the jealousy that had threatened to crush him as he’d listened to Harry laughing with Weasley, the fear and dread from the attack – he wanted it all to go away. “Just make me forget, Harry. Make me forget everything but you.”

Harry brushed a strand of hair away from Draco’s face before pushing him gently to the sofa. He kissed every inch of the other man’s face before moving his undivided attention to ears and neck and throat. He would make Draco forget – forget all the pain and fear and anguish that the world had to offer, forget everything except how much he was loved.

He found Draco’s mouth again and they kissed for what seemed like an eternity, slowly exploring and tasting and teasing. Harry could feel Draco’s heart beating rapidly in his chest, could almost hear the blood pulsing through his veins. His fingers tenderly caressed the warm skin of Draco’s neck before trailing down to the first button of his shirt. The silk was smooth to Harry’s touch as he ran his hands down Draco’s chest, feeling the other man tremble underneath him. He tugged Draco’s shirt from his trousers, then starting at the lowest button, undid them one by one, kissing the newly exposed skin as he went. They had done this so many times now, but it still seemed so new, so amazing. Every touch of skin sent waves of passion through Harry’s body, and when he got to the last button he couldn’t help but sit back and admire his handiwork.

Draco looked up, lids partly shielding his darkened eyes, and smiled. “Like what you see, Potter?”

Harry had to swallow hard to keep his heart from jumping into his throat. He ran his hand down the centre of Draco’s chest, following the thin line of baby soft hair all the way to his buckle. “Yeah,” Harry said softly, as he leaned back down to lick a pale nipple. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Draco took in a sharp breath which promptly turned into a moan when Harry bit down on the nub and tugged gently. Every nerve ending and muscle in his body seemed to be directly attached to that nipple, because with every swipe of Harry’s tongue and every scrape of his teeth, Draco could feel his body stretch and contract as if he were a puppet. His legs opened wide in automatic invitation and his mind screamed, Take whatever you want, Harry, I'm all yours.

Harry finally released Draco’s nipples and moved his attention to Draco’s trousers, slowly unbuttoning them as he watched Draco’s eyes grow even darker with desire. He scooted backwards on the sofa, enough to tug Draco’s trousers off before scooting back up. Kneeling between Draco’s legs, he slid his hands up Draco’s thighs, his palms prickling in anticipation. “Tell me you love me, Draco,” Harry said softly. “Tell me I’m the only one who’ll ever do this, who’ll ever touch you. Promise me, Draco.”

Draco reached up and tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair, pulling him down into a frantic, sloppy kiss. “I love you, Harry Potter,” he said, his voice trembling. “No one else will ever touch what belongs to you.” Draco wanted to feel Harry’s skin next to his, wanted to seal the promise with the fiery touch of hot flesh. But Harry was still dressed, and Draco’s fingers didn’t seem to be able to work the way they should and his brain couldn’t think of the spell to say. He fumbled until somehow Harry’s buttons were open and his trousers were off and Merlin, Draco had never been much of a bottom, but right now he wanted Harry inside him like he’d never wanted anything before. Wanted to give up every ounce of control and let Harry have everything. “Harry,” Draco barely recognized his own voice as he pleaded. “Fuck me, Harry.”

Harry understood immediately that Draco wanted to be taken care of. That he wanted Harry to take complete control - to take responsibility for not only his body, but his emotions, his heart, his mind, his very soul. Harry knew all too well how powerful this need could be. The need to have someone else take the reins. He’d done it often enough and Draco had never disappointed him. But he also knew it wouldn’t be easy for Draco to let go. He held onto his control like a baby held onto its mother. It was not only his security, but part of his identity as well. “Are you sure?”

Draco opened his eyes and studied Harry’s face. He was strong and confident and intensely passionate, fiercely jealous and at times unbelievably demanding, yet so gentle and tender. Harry was everything Draco had ever wanted in a lover and a thousand times more. “I’m sure, Harry. Show me that I’m yours.”

Harry only hesitated for a second before his whole face broke into a devilish smile. Draco felt the wings of a hundred fairies flutter in his stomach and he knew from that look, that he was about to be well and truly fucked - and that he would love each and every minute of it. Harry smirked before he resumed placing light kisses down the feathery trail he had abandoned earlier. This time, though, he didn’t pause to suck and lick Draco’s bellybutton. He went straight to Draco’s cock and ran a long wet kiss along the pulsing vein, before taking one of Draco’s balls into his mouth and sucking gently.

“Ohsweetmerlinfuckharry!” Draco was frozen in place by the sensations of that warm mouth wrapped around such a sensitive bundle of nerves, and if he hadn’t come less than five hours ago he was sure he would have just then. Harry’s hands were everywhere and nowhere, and finally Draco grabbed one and twined their fingers together just to keep it still. Harry moved his worship to Draco’s other ball and once again Draco felt the need to chant obscenities mingled with the names of deities and heroes and Harry, Harry, Harry.

By the time Harry made it to his cock Draco was so intensely aroused he thought he’d gone blind. The shimmering black spots behind his eyes had become mountainous globs with faint halos of yellow. He heard Harry whisper something, then felt the simultaneous sensations of tremendous suction on his cock and a warm slick finger in his arse and a brush of pressure on his prostate, and he was coming with such force he felt himself arch off the sofa. When Draco finally opened his eyes Harry was smiling down at him impishly, then he noticed the pressure in his arse and chuckled. He reached up to stroke Harry’s cheek lovingly. “My, my, but you are a clever boy, aren’t you, Potter?” Harry crooked the three fingers he’d managed to get inside of Draco while he was distracted, and made Draco moan.

“I’m very clever indeed, Draco.” He withdrew the fingers and placed the tip of his cock at Draco’s entrance. “Ready?”

When Draco rolled his eyes, Harry took it as a yes and pushed in slowly, taking all the care in the world and putting it into that one simple motion. It felt so good he could have screamed, but it didn’t matter how it felt to him. This was about Draco. About showing him how much he was cherished, showing him that he could always trust Harry to take care of him, to love him, to keep him safe.

Harry bit down on his lip in concentration, focusing only on the man beneath him. He watched the emotions play across Draco’s face, and listened to the uninhibited moans and noises coming from that beautiful mouth. He was sure he was the only person to ever see Draco so completely unguarded and vulnerable. That he was the only person Draco had ever trusted this much. For the first time in his life he didn’t want to come, because that would mean he’d have to stop, that this miraculous moment would be over, and he never wanted it to end. Never wanted to go back to that place where things could come between them. He realized that if anyone ever took Draco away from him, he would surely die, because he’d never be able to live without this again. He held back as long as he could, until Draco’s second orgasm pulsed to completion, then he gave in to release, letting it transport them both to that non-existent world where their love really was the only thing that mattered.

The Storm

Draco could tell by the way the sun penetrated his closed eyelids that it was already late morning, possibly early afternoon. He lay perfectly still, reliving the amazing experience of last night. He’d never let anyone have such control over him, never even considered that he ever would, but it had felt so exhilarating. So completely liberating in a way he would surely never understand. Harry... Draco almost moaned as the sensations flooded him. Harry had been so tender, had taken such care, had shown him without a doubt that he was the most important thing in the world. It made Draco blissfully happy, but it also terrified him.

The only other person who’d ever cared about him that much was his mother, and look how that had turned out. In the end, he had not been able to protect her, and in all likelihood she had died to protect him. It seemed strange to compare this lustful, sexy, passionate love that he felt for Harry to the parental love he had felt for his mother, but they were the same in their intensity, in their commitment, and they had the potential to cause equal devastation.

Last night’s attack had been a wakeup call, but he hadn’t understood, until now, why it had frightened him so much. It was because his death didn’t scare him as much as Harry’s death did. He was afraid of losing his newfound happiness, of losing Harry.

He felt around blindly for the warmth of Harry’s body, searching instinctively for the comfort he knew it would offer.

“So, you’ve finally graced me with consciousness, I see,” Harry said, smiling down at the sleepy man.

Draco groaned and tried to sit up but promptly fell back onto the sofa. “Argh. I feel like I’ve been trampled by a Graphorn. Every muscle in my body aches.”

Harry snickered. “We sort of fell asleep in an awkward position. A nice hot shower will probably help.” Harry handed Draco a cup of tea and sat on the floor next to him. “You have to get dressed though. Sheba heard about last night and is on her way over. She’s bringing the information I asked for about Vaisey.”

Draco pushed his blanket away and scrunched up his nose at the sticky feeling on his chest. “Why is it that whenever you bugger me I wake up on the sofa sticky, sore and exhausted?”

Harry laughed and got up to get the potion he had brought from the cupboard earlier. “Because, Draco, when you want to be buggered you’re an impatient, demanding brat and you don’t give me enough time to get you to the bedroom.”

Draco grinned sheepishly and ignored the potion Harry was holding out. Instead he pulled Harry onto the sofa on top of him. “Impatient and demanding, am I?” he said as he wrapped his legs around Harry’s. “You didn’t seem to mind my insolence last night."

“I didn’t say I minded,” Harry said with a smile. “I simply gave you a valid answer to your question. My furniture may be the most comfortable in Britain, but a sofa is for sitting on, not sleeping on.”

Draco grinned mischievously. “What about shagging on? It seemed to work pretty well for that.”

Harry laughed again and shook his head. “I’ll never be able to outwit you will I?”

“No, but that’s not why I keep you around.” Draco pulled Harry into a warm kiss that was far more intimate than was appropriate half an hour before the Minister of Magic was due to arrive.

“Mmm, Draco,” Harry murmured, trying half-heartedly to pull away from Draco’s embrace. “Sheba will be here soon.”

Draco looked up at him with a pouty, put-upon face and could tell by Harry’s wistful smile that he was thinking about last night.

“Draco, I—”

“Shh,” Draco whispered against his lips. “Just kiss me, Harry. Everything else can wait.”

Harry relaxed against Draco’s body as though the kiss could erase everything else from his mind. The Minister could wait, Vaisey could wait, the whole bloody world could wait.

~~~~~~~~~

“Good morning, Harry,” Sheba said cheerfully when he met her at the door. “How’s Draco?”

Harry smiled as he led the way into the sitting room. “He’s okay, I think. With him it’s hard to tell sometimes.”

Sheba nodded her understanding and sat in the high back chair closest to the fireplace. “The attack last night must have been upsetting. It’s all over the paper this morning.”

Harry groaned as he brought a tea service and placed it on the table next to the Minister. He’d not even thought about the paper. “What are they saying?”

“Oh, the normal drivel. They’re assuming it was a random attack against you by renegade Voldemort supporters.”

Harry smiled inwardly. One of the things he loved about Sheba McTuse was her ability to make villains seem like out of hand adolescents. She had been one of the few who hadn’t been afraid to say Voldemort’s name, even during the war, and that alone would have earned her Harry’s allegiance and respect.

“So they don’t suspect Draco was the target?” Harry asked as he settled himself on the sofa with a scone and a fresh cup of tea.

She shook her head and smiled devilishly. “Well, someone in an authoritative position might have accidently leaked that you were most likely the intended mark.”

Harry laughed heartily. “Are you sure you aren’t related to Albus Dumbledore, Sheba?”

“You’ve asked me that too many times not to know the answer, Harry,” the Minister said with a grin before her expression sobered. “Seriously, though, Harry. I know it’s Draco’s decision, but I think we should keep the letters and the motive to ourselves for the moment.”

“Kingsley will skin us both alive when he finds out we withheld information--”

“Yes, yes, he will, but I can handle Kingsley. What I can’t handle is watching the effect that information will have on Draco once the press gets on to it. Harry, you know better than anyone what they’ll do.”

Harry clenched his teeth when he thought about it. “They’ll drag up everything about his past, everything about his parent’s role with Voldemort and their deaths. They’ll insinuate that he’s somehow responsible, and then they’ll blame him for putting their Golden Boy in danger.”

Sheba looked at Harry sadly and nodded. “Do you really think he could deal with that right now?”

“No. He’s putting on a good show, but I think he’s already teetering on the edge of losing control.”

She pulled a file out of her bag and handed it to Harry.

The first thing he saw when he opened it was the smiling face of the man who’d been at the restaurant the night before. “Is this Thaddeus Vaisey?” Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

Sheba nodded. “Is he one of the men who attacked you last night?”

“Yeah, he was the one who followed us into the restaurant. Corin noticed he looked suspicious but I... damn it,” Harry hissed, slamming his fist onto the arm of the sofa. “I should have Apparated Draco away the minute Corin mentioned it.”

“No, Harry. If you had, he would have Apparated as well. At least now we know he’s not working alone.”

Sheba and Harry both turned to the doorway where Draco was standing, apparently listening to their discussion. He entered the room gracefully and full of a confidence that Harry knew he didn’t feel. He sat on the sofa next to Harry and took the photo from his hand. “So this is our old friend Thaddeus, eh?” he asked casually.

Harry couldn’t help but run a hand along his back and pull him closer. The protective gesture brought a slight smile to Sheba’s serious face. “Yes, apparently Harry’s hunch was correct. I checked with the French Ministry this morning. He resigned from his position about a year ago and has effectively disappeared.”

“Well, isn’t that just lovely?” Draco said acerbically as he took the file from Harry’s hand and started shifting through the papers. “It just keeps getting better and better doesn’t it?”

“At least we know who it is now.” Harry was trying his best to be the support that he knew Draco needed, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“Fat lot of good that does if he’s all but disappeared,” Draco said stubbornly as he tossed the file to the coffee table.

“It’s a starting point,” Harry said softly. He wanted to pull Draco into his arms and promise him everything would be fine. He could tell there was a storm brewing behind those carefully guarded eyes and he wanted to calm it before it had a chance to inflict any damage.

Sheba must have sensed it too, because she asked gently, “How are you doing, Draco?”

Draco glanced up at her and tensed. “I’m fine, Sheba. Don’t go all mother-hen on me, alright? Having Harry hover over me like I’m a wingless fairy is bad enough.”

Sheba and Harry shared a look, and Draco groaned. “You two will not gang up on me and treat me like some poor little damsel in distress. I’m a grown man and more than capable of taking care of myself.” He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Besides, aren’t we forgetting Harry’s in as much danger as I am now?”

Harry looked at him doubtfully. “Draco, you know I’m not his target. He’ll only hurt me if I get in the way.”

“Yes, and if last night was any indication, you’ll be fool enough to throw yourself in front of me and get yourself killed,” Draco snarled. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so caustically, but if anything happened to Harry because of him he’d never forgive either one of them.

Harry was taken aback by Draco’s sharp tone, but had to acknowledge that Draco was right. He glanced up to see Sheba frowning at him.

“I’d much rather see both of you come out of this in one piece,” she said in a warning tone that would make even the largest of giants cower. “No heroics from either of you. Understand?”

Harry and Draco glanced at each other like two chastised children.

She didn’t wait for their agreement. “The Aurors are looking for Vaisey. There’s really nothing more you can do other than keep each other safe.” She put her teacup down and stood to leave. “Draco, I know you don’t like to hide out here and it’s probably useless to ask you to lay low for a while, but I really do think it would be a good idea.”

Draco didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue either. He walked her to the door and told her he would do his best.

It all seemed a bit anti-climactic now that they knew who had written the letter and why. Without the mystery to distract him, his mind was already wandering into areas it shouldn’t. Vaisey was obviously deeply disturbed and hell-bent on revenge. He knew that meant only one thing - Vaisey would try again. And he would keep trying, getting more and more desperate with every attempt. More careless yes, but more and more dangerous, and less concerned with who else got hurt. Including Harry.

Everyone would expect him to sit around and wait. To hide out until either the Aurors found Vaisey or Vaisey found him. He was so tired of hiding, of running. He felt like he’d been doing one or the other his whole life. He leaned his forehead against the cool door and thought for just a moment that he’d be better off letting Vaisey have what he wanted. At least then he wouldn’t have to hide anymore and Harry would be safe. It would hurt Harry, he knew that, but the Weasleys and Granger would take care of him. They would see him through it and he would probably be better off in the long run.

He reached out and touched the door knob. It felt smooth and comfortable in his hand, like an invitation to freedom. He could leave now and be done with it. Walk out the door and Apparate to Diagon Alley. Surely it wouldn’t take Vaisey long to find him. Then he could see his parents again. He could apologize for failing them and beg for their forgiveness. Draco felt the bitter pangs of guilt once again. He couldn’t be responsible for Harry’s death too. He wouldn’t be able to bear the guilt. His birthday was coming up soon. What if something happened to Harry then? What if somehow Vaisey knew what Voldemort had done on his seventeenth birthday? What if he planned to repeat it, to take away the only thing Draco loved to teach him a lesson, just like Voldemort had?

“Draco?”

Draco didn’t even notice that Harry had come looking for him. He was too lost in thought, too buried in guilt and misery, to even hear him, and when Harry touched his arm gently he was startled. He blinked away the tears that were clouding his eyes and streaming down his face.

Harry took one look at Draco and pulled him into his arms, wrapping him in a protective shield. Draco wanted nothing more than to stay there where he felt safe, but he couldn’t. He knew now he couldn’t take the risk. “I have to go,” he whispered against Harry’s neck. “I can’t let you protect me anymore.”

Harry was already shaking his head as he pulled away. “You’re not going anywhere, Draco,” he said firmly. “If I have to put you in a Body-Bind and hide you in the bedroom until they find Vaisey, I will.”

Draco could feel the panic rising inside him. A ruthless, spine-tingling fear engulfed him and overrode all logical thought. “I have to go, Harry. He’ll find me, then he’ll find you, and you’ll do something heroic and you’ll die and I’ll lose you. Harry, I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved; I can’t lose you too.”

Harry pulled Draco against him again and held him so tightly Draco could scarcely breathe, but it felt so good he couldn’t complain. If this was the last time Harry would hold him, he wanted to be able to feel it until the last breath left his lungs, wanted to have bruises that would show up on his body long after his blood had stopped flowing.

“No, Draco. I won’t do anything heroic, I promise.” Harry pulled away and took Draco’s hand from the door knob. Twining their fingers together, he led Draco back to the sitting room and sat on the sofa, pulling Draco into his arms. “Look, I’m not exactly sure what you’re thinking but I have a good idea.”

Harry’s voice was somehow calm and supportive and Draco wanted to bury himself in it.

“You think by leaving you’re protecting me.”

Draco was looking down at their entwined fingers, refusing to acknowledge him. Refusing to look into Harry’s eyes because he knew it would break any resolve he had.

“Draco, do you honestly think by leaving you’re protecting me?” Harry waited patiently for an answer and when he still didn’t respond Harry grabbed his chin roughly and forced Draco to look him in the eye. “Do you honestly think I could let you walk out there and get yourself killed? Do you think that little of me, Draco?” Harry asked, his voice no longer calm, but angry and desperate.

Draco closed his eyes to avoid the hurt he saw in Harry’s face. “You don’t have a choice, Harry.”

“The fuck I don’t, Draco!” Harry was still holding his chin painfully hard and Draco could almost feel the tiny blood vessels breaking. Then he felt the invisible tendrils of magic starting to swirl around him, enveloping him in raw energy and power. It should have frightened him, the strange mix of love and pain and power, but it was as comforting as Harry’s voice, wrapping around him and reminding him of everything Harry was. Of everything he needed to protect.

“Draco...” Harry’s words faltered and Draco could hear the fear in his voice. “You promised me. You promised no one else would ever touch you.”

“No one will, Harry. Not like that. But I can’t let you get hurt because of me. It would be worse than dying.” Draco felt like the very fibre of his body was being torn to shreds. He wanted to fight the desperation he felt, to believe that misfortune didn’t stalk his every move. He wanted to give himself over to Harry and trust that he would take care of everything.

The paintings on the walls were starting to vibrate and Harry’s hands were trembling and when Draco finally opened his eyes the sight broke him completely. Harry’s eyes were pooled with tears, his brow was creased in agony and he was so pale Draco could see the veins running along his cheek bones. Draco’s heart exploded in shards of pain and he knew he couldn’t do it. He’d never be able to leave, to give up the only thing in his life that meant anything. He was too weak, too selfish, too much in love with the man in front of him to let him go. And he realised something immensely important that he hadn’t paid attention to before. That Harry needed him as much as he needed Harry. That if he left, if he died, Harry wouldn’t be all right. That Harry, too, would rather die than lose him. The epiphany was both terrifying and strangely comforting and he chastised himself for his stupidity.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and held him tight. “Shh, I’m sorry,” he murmured soothingly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry, Harry.” He whispered words of love and devotion and promises and apologies for what seemed like forever. Slowly, Harry started to gain control of his magic, but Draco continued to scatter feather light kisses over his face, his neck, his shoulders. He held Harry’s hands until they stopped trembling. He begged Harry for forgiveness and promised him over and over again that he wouldn’t leave. That he’d never leave.

When Harry finally had enough control he let out a heavy sigh and slowly looked up at Draco. The bright red marks on Draco’s chin were already turning a deep purple under his smooth, porcelain skin. Harry ran his index finger along them, kissing them gently and whispering a spell to heal them. Draco felt the pain disappear and once again marvelled that the most powerful wizard in the world was in love with him. “Harry, I--”

Harry put a finger to Draco’s lips and shook his head. “I know. You panicked, but it’s okay.” Harry ran his hand along Draco’s jaw line and Draco leaned into it like a kitten. “It’s just... Draco, I’m not your parents, and Vaisey’s not Voldemort. I know I keep saying I won’t let anything happen to you, but I... well, I guess I should start adding that I won’t let anything happen to me either. Will that help? If I promise you--”

“You can’t promise that, Harry. You can’t promise me nothing will happen to you, all you can do is promise to try. And I promise to try too. I’ll stay here where it’s safe. I won’t take any risks; I won’t do anything stupid.”

Harry smiled a genuine smile and Draco knew he’d been forgiven. That Harry would trust him to keep his promises, and that he’d never mention this again or throw it back in his face in anger. Because that was the difference between Harry and anyone else he’d ever known. Harry was the real thing. When he made a promise, he kept it. When he said he loved you, he meant it. When he said he’d take care of you, you could depend on it.

Draco’s lip quirked up into a smile and a strange sense of relief washed over him. Like somehow a few of the chains from his past had been broken and the burden of guilt was somehow more manageable.

“At least you didn’t break anything this time,” Draco teased with a smirk.

Harry ran his finger along Draco’s chin where the bruises from his fingers had been. “I almost broke you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Draco kissed Harry tenderly. “I know you didn’t, Harry. You would never hurt someone you love.”

When Harry looked up, Draco was surprised to see a completely unreadable expression on his face and a vacant, sad look in his eyes. He wondered for a moment if he hadn’t done more damage to their relationship than he had thought. Then Harry grabbed him roughly and kissed him. A needy, desperate kiss unlike any they had shared before. Draco met him kiss for kiss, lick for lick, bite for bite, never giving up control but never taking over. It wasn’t tender, it wasn’t loving, but it was honest and it was passionate, and Draco finally understood that whatever their differences, whatever their fears and weaknesses, they were both better together than they had ever been apart.

Birthday Surprises

“So, how’s our favourite victim of house arrest?”

“Fuck off, Weasley.”

Draco really wasn't in the mood for their antics. It had been weeks since the attack and he hadn’t left the hotel once. The only visitor before the twins' unannounced arrival had been Granger, and Draco had asked Harry to tell her not to come back. The look of sympathy on her face had made him want to hex her into oblivion, and Harry didn’t approve of violence against friends, no matter how well deserved.

“George, that’s not fair—”

“I know! We can’t confuse him if he calls us both—”

“Weasley,” they said in unison, sounding scandalized.

Draco rolled his eyes. Okay, he was bored out of his mind. At least they might provide some measure of entertainment, even if only to give him something to swear at. Changing his attitude, he asked as politely as possible, “What brings you fine gentlemen here today?”

Fred snorted.

George clapped his hand onto Draco’s shoulder and led him to the sofa. “My, my, Harry has trained you well, hasn’t he?”

Draco’s wand was in his hand before he even realised it.

“Yes, George, he does seem to be quite adept at the polite hostess routine.”

Draco whispered something under his breath and both Weasley men yelped and jumped off the sofa. They looked at each other, and both burst out laughing as they stared at the peacock feathers that had sprouted beautifully from their backsides.

“Well done, Malfoy!” George exclaimed.

“Yeah, mate, you’ll have to teach us this one.”

“Ron would look lovely with one of these,” George added as he waggled his new plumage.

They both giggled manically and Draco couldn’t help but smile. These two were like no one he’d ever dealt with before. They had completely accepted him without asking for any explanations or giving the slightest hint of resentment. He never thought he could actually like a Weasley, but grudgingly, he did.

“Okay, Malfoy,” Fred said hesitantly as he tried to manoeuvre the tail around to make a cup of tea. “We were just teasing.”

“Yeah, we’re sorry. Now can you—”

“Please, get rid of the feathers?”

Draco crossed his arms and smirked. “I rather like them. Perhaps I should make them permanent.”

George and Fred exchanged a worried look and Draco laughed. He waved his wand, whispering again under his breath, and the feathers disappeared.

“Seriously, Malfoy. That’s a good one.”

“Yeah, mate. Where’d you learn it?”

Draco smirked again. “I didn’t learn it, nitwits, I invented it. Hasn’t anybody told you what I did before I showed up here?”

The twins shared a look and nodded. “But we thought you invented spells against the Dark Arts, not—”

“Pranks,” Fred finished.

“Well, I had to do something to entertain myself or I would have gone mad.” It had been ages since Draco had thought of the many prank spells he’d come up with during his time in France. He remembered now how he’d imagined using most of them on Harry. The thought made him chuckle and the twins looked at him expectantly. “No. I will not teach you any. Absolutely not. Harry would kill me.” A slight smile crossed his lips as he said it.

“Malfoy,” George said excitedly. “This is purely a business proposal.”

“As our biggest investor, Harry would benefit greatly from the proceeds of such... commodities.”

“And of course you would receive a percentage of the profits—”

“As well as an inventor’s fee up front.”

Draco was impressed. They may act like idiots, but obviously it was very much an act. “So, just out of curiosity, how would you go about selling spells? Once they’re known anyone can share them? Wouldn’t word of mouth eventually make it obsolete?”

Fred smiled. “We’ve acquired, through various... partnerships, a process which allows spells to be coded.”

“Coded?” Draco asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” George continued in a very businesslike fashion. “It’s quite complicated, but basically you buy the spell in a code, combined with a spell to decipher the code.”

“It only works for the original caster,” Fred explained. “We used a variation during the war to send messages among Order members.”

“That’s ingenious,” Draco said in genuine awe. “Let me guess. Granger.”

Fred winked. “We are not at liberty to reveal our sources.”

Draco shook his head. “It’s really no surprise your side won the war. Voldemort never stood a chance.”

George sat next to Draco and looked at him seriously. “Our side won the war, Draco, because we had bloody brilliant minds working with us.”

Fred looked at him pointedly and added, “Quite a few of them, even some we didn’t know about at the time.”

Draco could feel the blush heating his cheeks. He was used to Harry and Sheba fawning over him and telling him how big of a role he played in the war, but he still wasn’t accustomed to hearing it from other people.

George squeezed Draco’s shoulder in acknowledgement and instinctively knew to change the subject. “How’s the investigation going?”

“It’s not,” Draco answered with a sigh as he leaned his head back onto the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. “It’s going nowhere. The Aurors haven’t found a trace of Vaisey and I don’t—”

There was a loud whoosh from the fireplace and Harry stepped out looking more excited than he had in weeks. “Draco, I have news.” He sat on the sofa with a plop and pulled Draco into a rough hug, ignoring the twins completely. “Hi, honey. I’m home,” Harry whispered teasingly as he leaned in to kiss him like he hadn’t seen him in months.

Draco briefly considered if he should be offended by all of the domesticated teasing, but he’d missed Harry lately and was too happy to be in his arms again, with his warm mouth so close and his scent filling his nostrils, to cause a fuss.

“A-hem. Can the snogging wait until we leave?” George interjected.

Harry looked up at the twins as if he’d just noticed them and blushed faintly. “Oh, hi, guys. I... um...” He looked back to Draco and grinned. “I was a little preoccupied.”

Draco rolled his eyes and the twins both chuckled. “Yeah, mate, you’re always preoccupied when Malfoy’s in the room.”

“But we’ll leave you to it,” Fred said with a grin, clapping Harry on the back jovially.

“Yeah, we’d best get back to the store.”

“Oh, bye the way, you’re invited to dinner at The Burrow on Saturday.”

“And Mum says to tell you no excuses will be accepted.”

Harry looked up in alarm. “Guys, you know we can’t. The risk—”

“You know The Burrow is safe, Harry,” Fred said softly

“Bill’s coming out that morning to check and reinforce all the wards.”

“And Draco can bring his goons just in case.”

“Even Ron has agreed to grace us with his presence.”

Draco looked up at Harry with hopeful eyes. It was quite pathetic, he thought, that he was so desperate to get out that he would be begging to go to the Weasleys.

Harry let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. But I want to come out first and check the wards myself.” Harry held out a hand to stop the twins from both jumping in to profess Bill was completely capable of testing the wards. “Not that I don’t trust Bill,” he said firmly. “I just need to do it, okay?”

“Fine!” both men chimed as they made their exit.

The door wasn’t even closed before Draco turned to Harry and asked, “So? You said there was news?”

Harry smiled and pulled Draco into his lap. “Vaisey’s been living in Muggle London. We don’t know where yet. But we...” Harry grinned mischievously. “I... managed to get a police report from the Muggle authorities regarding an arrest three months ago involving the purchase of stolen goods.”

Draco’s heart was racing. He didn’t know that much about Muggle affairs, but surely if there had been an arrest there would be an address. “But you said you didn’t know where—”

“The address the authorities had has been vacant since the arrest. If he was actually living there, he’s long gone.”

Harry could practically see Draco’s heart fall, the disappointment as solid as stone. “But at least now we have a better idea of where to look. The Aurors are checking into all the contacts they have in Muggle London. Something will come up.” Harry pulled Draco to him and nuzzled into his collarbone, inhaling the scent of the man he’d do anything to protect. “God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

Draco was torn between wanting to know every bit of information they’d uncovered and wanting to forget it all and kiss Harry until he could no longer breathe. Harry’s hips were between his knees and his forehead was pressed against Draco’s neck and it felt so good just to wrap his arms around the other man and feel him. Draco felt somewhat silly to have missed him that much. It wasn’t like Harry wasn’t home every night. It wasn’t like they didn’t make love every night, and practically every morning before Harry left. It was just that he was stuck at the hotel, alone with only his thoughts, and that was never a good thing.

Before he had a chance to make a decision, Harry’s hands were under his shirt, counting the bumps of his spine and all thoughts of details and Vaisey and Muggle authorities were dispensed with. He pushed forward against Harry, pressing their bodies together and when Harry pulled his shirt up and kissed his chest, humming against his skin, Draco was lost. Lost to the one and only thing in this life that he knew for certain. That Harry loved him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Draco woke up early on the fifth of June to a dark room and an empty bed, he wasn’t sure how to feel. He hadn’t mentioned his birthday to Harry, partly in the hopes that it would pass without acknowledgement, and partly in the hopes that Harry would think about it on his own. A twinge of disappointment shot through him at the realisation that Harry had probably not remembered. When he was a child, his birthday had been cause for much celebration. He’d always received more gifts than should have been legal and his parents, especially his mother, would treat him like a king for the day. His favourite foods would be served at all the meals and he was allowed as many sweets as he could eat without making himself ill. But after his seventeenth birthday, the only thing he could feel on this day was hate, remorse, and emptiness.

He had hoped that, somehow, celebrating with Harry would change all that, and possibly bring back the warm glow of childhood excitement that was now so painfully overshadowed by his parents’ deaths. He fought the urge to cry by burying his head in his pillow and going back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Harry said as he kissed Draco awake gently. “You can’t sleep all day, you know.”

Draco rolled over and grunted for him to go away, but Harry just laughed and continued the kisses over his neck and face. “You’re not allowed to sleep all day on your birthday. We have important things to do.”

Draco looked up, unimpressed by Harry’s cheerfulness, but unbelievably pleased that Harry had remembered. “It’s my birthday, I can do whatever I want,” he said petulantly.

“Nope, I’m afraid not.” Harry handed Draco a cup of tea and one of his favourite freshly baked scones before going to the closet and pulling out an outfit for Draco to wear. “Get dressed. I have a surprise for you.”

Draco looked at the pair of jeans lying on the bed with curiosity. Harry had bought them for him a few days ago. Buying things for him seemed to ease Harry’s guilt of going out when Draco was forced to stay in, of being able to talk to the Aurors and participate in their investigation when Draco was trapped like a helpless rat in an abandoned hole. Draco had to admit he wasn’t the most pleasant hostage; he kept his promise, just not without complaint.

When he'd been presented with the jeans, Draco has asked why. But all Harry had said, his usual crooked grin in place, was, “I want to see how nicely they cling to your beautiful arse.”

Draco couldn’t help but grin at the memory. “So what exactly is this surprise that it necessitates I wear tight-fitting jeans?” he asked smoothly.

Harry smiled devilishly. “We’re going flying, and I want to watch those tight-fitting jeans curl around your broom.”

A sense of excitement and adventure tickled Draco’s stomach and he couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore. He climbed out of bed and grabbed the jeans on his way to the shower. Harry laughed as he went, hoping the day turned out as well as he’d planned.

While Draco showered, Harry finished packing a picnic basket with all of Draco’s favourite foods and a few bottles of his favourite wines. Harry could never be sure which one Draco would be ‘in the mood for’, and he wanted this day to be perfect. Draco deserved a perfect day after what he’d been through the last few weeks.

Harry had tried to stay with him as much as possible, which seemed to both please and infuriate the other man. He knew it was difficult for Draco but there was nothing for it, so he weathered the storm of temper tantrums when they came, mended the broken glassware when necessary, and made love to him whenever he had the chance. It was the only time Draco seemed truly alive and Harry wished for the day when they could go out like a normal couple; well, as normal as they could be, anyway.

When Draco was dressed, Harry handed him his broom and an old Muggle soda can. Draco looked at him curiously. “Why do we have to use a Portkey? Where are we going, exactly?”

“You’ll see.” Harry reached out to grab the soda can and said, “Oaktree.”

As they touched down, Draco tried frantically to balance Harry, but ended up being pulled unceremoniously to the ground on top of him. Draco propped himself up on his elbow and smirked at the blushing, stuttering man beneath him. “Sorry, Draco, I really hate Portkeys.”

Draco couldn’t quite respond. He sat up, but when Harry tried to do the same Draco put his hand on the other man’s chest and cocked his head sideways. “God, you look perfect like this,” Draco said softly. The grass in the field they had landed in was as soft as satin and had been pleasantly warmed by the afternoon sun, but what Draco found so fascinating was the colour. A bright emerald green, perfectly matching the colour of Harry’s eyes. He looked up to see the green echoed in the vibrant shades of a densely overgrown forest on the other side of the field.

“Where are we?” he asked breathlessly.

Harry smiled up at him, pulling him down for a kiss, before flipping him onto his back. “I told you, it’s a surprise.” He stood, pulling Draco up and angling him so that Draco could see the other side of the field where a magnificent crystal blue lake stretched out, the water on the shore lapping at a pure white sandy beach. Some distance away, there was what appeared to be a small, ivy-covered cottage with a low iron fence surrounding it.

Draco looked wide-eyed at Harry, the scenery having left him speechless.

“Come on,” Harry said, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he tugged the other man down the long hill that led to the lake. He resized the picnic basket he’d pulled out of his pocket and grinned. “If I’d known you were going to sleep until noon, I would have had the Portkey bring us here first.”

Draco was still lost for words. He hadn’t as much as seen the sun in weeks, and he’d never been on a real picnic before. They were much too messy for his mother’s liking. Harry spread out the large blanket and pulled out the large assortment of food he’d packed. He held up two bottles of wine and looked at Draco questioningly. “White or red?”

Draco took the opportunity to focus on something besides his overwhelming feelings and glanced over the food, taking the white from Harry to open. “We’ll save the red for later,” he said with a wink. He poured them both a glass before lying down on the blanket and stretching languidly, allowing his eyes to roam freely over Harry’s body, every line and curve accentuated by his snug jeans and T-shirt. The thought of Harry planning this surprise for him made his stomach tingle. He had packed every single one of Draco’s favourite foods even though he had never asked him what they were. He’d never asked, 'By the way, Draco, what’s your favourite cheese, or fruit, or pastry?' yet he knew. He had picked the perfect wines, even though Draco knew Harry didn’t know a good wine from sparkling grape juice. The thought of him paying that much attention, of knowing without asking, made him want to throw the man down on the blanket and forget about the food entirely.

“So when do I get my present?” Draco asked silkily.

Harry took a gulp of wine and lay down next to him, suddenly looking nervous.

“What? Did you forget the present?” Draco teased, leaning close and running a hand under Harry’s shirt to massage a pert nipple.

Harry took in a sharp breath and grabbed Draco’s hand to stop him. “No. I didn’t exactly forget, but I... I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Moving his hand around to Harry’s back, Draco pulled him closer and kissed him softly. “Harry, right now I think you could give me that old soda can and I’d be happy.”

Harry fidgeted nervously and looked around at the panorama before them. He looked back at Draco and smiled. “This is it,” he finally said, motioning all around them.

Draco looked at him as if confused and Harry immediately began babbling. “The cottage isn’t much, but you could decorate it however you wanted, and the field is just the right size for a Quidditch pitch if you wanted, and we could have picnics by the lake whenever and swim in the summer and--”

Draco pressed his hand against Harry’s mouth to make him stop. “You bought all this for me?” Draco asked, the corner of his lip twitching into what was likely to become a very un-Malfoyish smile. He could feel Harry gnawing at his lip under his hand. Harry nodded.

“How many acres is this, Harry?” Draco asked as he moved his hand from Harry’s mouth and rested it gently on his chest.

“One hundred and fifty.”

All Draco could do was stare at him in disbelieve and think, Harry bought me a home for my birthday - with a lake, and a Quidditch pitch. Only Harry would do something so... He laughed before pouncing on top of Harry like a tiger. His heart was pounding in his chest at the enormity of what the gesture meant and he was afraid of what he might say if opened his mouth to talk. So he opened his mouth in other ways, showing Harry his gratitude with his lips and tongue and teeth until he thought he had enough control to say it with his words.

“So does this mean you like it?” Harry whispered against his lips.

Draco pulled back and smiled. “No, you twit, this means I love it,” he teased. “But, what about the hotel? I mean, you...” Draco stopped, and for one bone-chilling moment he wondered why Harry would want to buy him a place to live. “Are you planning on kicking me out after they catch Vaisey?”

“What? No! I just thought...” Harry pushed Draco off of him and he tumbled unceremoniously to the side of the blanket. “Draco, why would you even say that?” he asked angrily as he sat up and crossed his arms across his chest defensively.

The hurt in Harry’s voice made Draco wince. He reached out to touch Harry’s arm gingerly, almost afraid the other man would swat it away. “I just wanted to make sure,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to assume that you would leave your home.”

The anger and hurt disappeared immediately and Harry rolled on top of Draco, kissing him fiercely. By the time Harry pulled back his lips were blood red and his hair was suitably mussed and God, Draco wanted him so bad he could taste it.

“I’d leave heaven for you, Draco,” Harry said quietly. “You should know that by now.”

Draco swallowed hard. He did know it. He knew Harry would walk through the pits of hell for him, but he still had a hard time believing it.

Harry smiled at him as if he knew exactly what Draco was thinking. He sat up and started making them both a plate. “I thought maybe they could both be our homes.”

Draco stammered for a minute until he caught on to what Harry was saying. He crossed his legs and took the plate Harry offered. “You mean like a weekend retreat?”

“Yeah,” Harry said smiling broadly, “something like that.”

“Oh. Well, okay then...” Draco looked at Harry with that devilishly wicked smirk and Harry noted with some amazement, but very little surprise, that it still made his heart race. He had catalogued that look in his mind so he could pull it out whenever he needed something to make him smile.

“That cottage looks awfully small,” Draco began as he started eating. “We’ll have to expand, and redecorate, and, well, maybe we should just build a new house and use that as a guest house for when Granger comes to visit.”

Draco was eating cheese and strawberries, making plans to add a dock and maybe get a boat and Harry was watching him without really listening. He was pleased with himself that he’d made Draco happy. It had taken forever to figure out what to get him, but after the attack he knew exactly what Draco needed. A place to call home, his home, not Harry’s. A place that had gardens and space like Malfoy Manor so he could go flying whenever he wanted. The thought of Draco cooped up like Sirius had almost made Harry ill. Varno Domov was much nicer than Grimmauld Place had been, but Draco was still stir-crazy. He’d wanted to go outside, feel the breeze in his hair and the sun on his face. He was like an exotic plant that needed fresh air and sunshine to flourish and Harry was terrified that without it he would wilt and die. He’d paid way too much for this place, but he had known the moment he saw it that it was perfect and now, sitting here watching Draco’s eyes dance with excitement and life, he knew it was worth every single Knut.

“So you’re okay with the...” Harry wanted to say how important this was, what a really big deal this was, but the right words had abandoned him entirely and his hands flailed uselessly in the effort.

Draco smiled and put down his plate, wiping his mouth slowly, before climbing into Harry’s lap and straddling him. He kissed Harry softly, running his hands lightly along his neck and back, then threaded his fingers through Harry's tangled mess of hair. When he pulled back his eyes were sparkling with a penetrating grey fire.

“Infiniteness, perpetuity, permanence, sempiternity?”

Harry snorted and pressed his forehead against Draco’s chest. “I don’t know what half of those mean, Draco, but yeah, I think you have the general idea. The long-term implications.”

“Harry,” Draco said softly, using his thumbs to angle Harry’s face up to look at him. “I’ve already told you I’m not going anywhere. You’re mine, Potter. Forever and a day, longer if I have any say in it. Agreed?”

Harry swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and nodded. He knew Draco loved him, but had never expected to hear it said so clearly. Forever and a day... unless. He pushed the thought away. He would have to tell Draco what happened with Ginny soon, but not now.

“Good,” Draco said as he stood. “Let’s go flying. I want to examine every inch of my present.” He pulled Harry up and grinned. “Then I want to examine every inch of you.”

Draco burst out laughing at the shy expression on Harry’s face. “I can’t believe I can still make you blush,” he whispered as he pulled Harry into his arms.

Harry shoved him away playfully. “Yeah, but you still can’t beat me to the Snitch.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sure that’s true.” He snorted derisively. “I think a Quidditch pitch would be perfect right about--” Draco waved his hand toward the centre of the field and pointed, “--there.”

Harry grinned and reached into the picnic basket, pulling out a fluttering Golden Snitch. “No need to wait for a Quidditch pitch. A simple game of one-on-one should settle it.”

Draco’s lip quirked up into a smile as he watched the Snitch flutter in Harry’s hand. How many times had he seen that and seethed with jealousy and anger over the simple sight of it. But now, as he watched the Snitch flutter in those familiar hands he felt almost giddy. “Tour first,” he said, smiling. “I’ll catch the Snitch later.”

When Harry laughed it was loud and happy and Draco was thrilled to know it was because of him. He made Harry happy. He swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to make sure Harry stayed happy.

Truths

The first thing they did was fly the entire perimeter of the property. Harry explained that the wards he’d put up were even more complicated than the ones on Varno Domov.

“The entire property is warded?” Draco asked in dismay. He had wondered why Harry was so relaxed with them being here, but had never dreamed he’d have thought far enough ahead to get the place completely warded.

“Yeah, it took a while to figure out how to set them so they could detect ill will against either of us. That’s part of the reason I’ve been gone so much. I...” Harry ducked his head as if he was embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to be dishonest about where I’ve been. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

Draco didn’t know what to say. Harry felt guilty for letting him believe he’d been working on the investigation, when in fact, he was warding a hundred and fifty acres for him. He wasn’t an expert on wards, but he knew it was a long and tedious process, even for average wards. “How long did this take you, Harry?”

Harry simply shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ll be around a lot more from now on.” He looked up at Draco hopefully, “You’re not mad that I lied to you?”

“Harry, why...” Draco shook his head in amusement. He wasn’t used to dealing with someone so... honest. He turned his broom so that he was facing Harry and flew close enough that their thighs brushed together and they hovered, staring at each other. “I’m not mad, I’m... fuck, Harry. You did all this for me. How could I possibly be mad at you?” Draco reached out to squeeze Harry’s hand before looking down at the forest below them. “Should we land and walk a bit? My cute little arse is getting a little sore.”

“Mine too,” Harry said with a look that Draco swore could have melted the polar ice caps. “But then, you like it like that, don’t you?”

Draco leaned closer and breathed warm air over Harry’s ear, delighting in the resulting shiver. “Not from your broom, I don’t,” he whispered just before doing a nose dive toward the ground.

The only clear path through the forest was next to one of the many streams that snaked its way through the overgrown weeds and fallen trees. As they walked, they made plans to have someone come in and clear out a path so they could venture in whenever they wanted. It was such a natural conversation, as though they had been a couple forever and had been planning this purchase for years. No one hearing them laugh and plan, or watching them hold hands, or walk just a little too close, would have ever suspected who they were, or just how far they’d come.

“Maybe we could even camp out here,” Harry said, excitement turning his cheeks rosy.

Draco gave him the look. The look that said ‘are you completely mad?’ “Harry, have you any idea what lives in this forest?”

“Well...” Harry shrugged and kicked a rock. “We had to camp a lot during the war. Most things leave you alone if you leave them alone. I always thought... under different circumstances, it might be fun.”

The topic made Draco’s chest constrict. Harry never mentioned the war. He avoided it almost as much as he avoided talking about the Weasley girl. Draco reached out and took his hand. “If you want to camp, we’ll camp,” Draco said with decisiveness. “As long as you bring that charm you use on the furniture at Varno Domov, because I will not sleep on the hard ground.”

Harry laughed and smiled at Draco like he’d just been given the best present in the world. “I would never expect you to, Draco. I would never dream of asking you to make such a sacrifice.”

When they got back to the field Harry pulled the Snitch out of his pocket and grinned. “Are you sure you’re not too sore for this?” he teased.

Draco arched a brow and smirked. “Scared, Potter?”

“You wish, Malfoy.” Harry released the Snitch and they both mounted their brooms and zoomed into the sky.

The Snitch proved to be particularly elusive. Or maybe it was delayed by the revelation that one could actually snog on brooms in mid-air. Whatever the reason, by the time Draco caught the Snitch it was past dinnertime and they were both starving.

“You do realise I let you win, don’t you?” Harry asked as they landed by the lake.

Draco snorted. “I’m sure you did, Harry. I could tell by the way your veins were popping out of your temples as you were trying to beat me to it.”

“Come on, Draco. I couldn’t let you lose on your birthday.” Harry draped an arm over Draco’s shoulder. “That would just be so unchivalrous.”

Nudging Harry’s arm away, Draco snorted. “What are you, a knight in King Arthur’s court?”

Harry laughed that deep laugh that meant he was truly happy and Draco plopped contentedly onto the ground. “So what do I get for winning?”

Harry knelt down on the blanket facing him. He pushed Draco’s hair from his neck and stared at the vast expanse of ivory skin. By the time Harry's lips brushed Draco’s neck, tingles were already running through his body. “Anything you want.” It wasn’t even a whisper, the words were just carried on a breath and Draco knew exactly what he wanted. He reached out to the hem of Harry’s shirt and inched it up, bit by bit, so he could savour every inch of skin as it was uncovered. Harry started to tug it off but Draco simply shook his head slowly. He wanted this to last forever, this moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

Once the shirt was off, Draco pushed Harry gently to the blanket and straddled his thighs. Holding his wrists to the ground, Draco took his time and kissed every inch of exposed skin.

“Draco, please,” Harry begged, pushing against Draco’s hands, trying to pull his wrists free. “I want... need to touch you.”

It was a lesson in patience and Draco was surprised he was managing as well as he was. He wanted nothing more than to let go and feel those hands on him. But he didn’t. Harry continued to squirm and buck and tremble at every swipe of Draco’s tongue. By the time he got to the fine line of jet black hair that led into Harry’s trousers, Draco was light-headed and felt like he was drowning in a vat of the world’s finest wine.

He released Harry’s hands and they immediately found their way into his hair. He knew by now that Harry loved his hair. Loved the way it slid between his fingers, loved the way it felt when it tickled his skin, loved the way it looked splayed out on his chest. He glanced up to see that Harry was watching him and he grinned. “What should I do now, Harry?”

Harry moaned and raised his pelvis, pushing up against Draco’s chest for friction. “Anything you want, Draco,” he reiterated. “You can do whatever you want.”

Draco sat up abruptly and smirked. “I think I’m hungry, how about dinner?”

When Harry closed his eyes and whimpered, Draco couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re such a fucking tease, Malfoy.” Harry groaned as he sat up and readjusted his jeans.

Draco leaned over and kissed the scowl off of Harry’s face. “But you love me,” he teased. “And I promise to make it up to you, after you feed me.”

Harry laughed and pushed him away, but Draco could tell by his smile that Harry knew it was the truth.

They ate without talking, but it was far from silent. The looks they shared were deafening. The small touches screamed of lustful desire. As soon as the food was cleared Harry pulled Draco to him and laid back on the blanket. He held Draco in his arms and looked up as the sky began to turn pink. “Was this an okay birthday?”

Draco didn’t answer, not with words. He kissed Harry, and before he could fumble with trouser buttons Harry whispered the spell under his breath and their clothes vanished. The sight of Harry, spread out on the blanket in the glow of the setting sun almost made Draco weep. He’d never seen anything more beautiful, never had anything so perfect. Harry looked up at him, his eyes filled with lust and love and a thousand other things that couldn’t be named. “Whatever you want, Draco.”

He wanted to taste every inch of skin all over again, but didn’t have the patience this time. He lifted Harry’s legs and placed them against his chest, whispering the spell that made Harry moan and whimper in anticipation. Draco waited until Harry looked up at him before pushing into him agonisingly slow. “I have everything I want, Harry. I have you.”

Neither of them lasted long, they never did; the sensations were just too good. The sun marked their progression with a heavenly array of pinks and purples, and Draco noted, with what little coherent thought he had left, that he’d never had a better birthday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Portkey brought them back to the hotel just after ten o’clock and they both fell into bed happy but exhausted. As Draco curled into Harry’s arms he knew they had once again crossed an undrawn line. That they had both made promises, spoken and unspoken, of a future together. But there was one line that had yet to be crossed and Draco couldn’t help but think everything else depended on it. That somehow it would be a test for both of them, and he was terrified that he might fail. A voice deep inside told him to push it away, that now was not the time, but he knew in his heart, that it was now or never. That after today, they should be able to share anything.

“Harry?”

When Harry looked up he had a sleepy, slightly dazed look on his face and Draco almost chickened out, but he steeled himself for the worst, and asked, “Will you tell me what happened with Ginny?”

Harry’s eyes immediately cleared and he got that look that he always got when her name was mentioned. Draco had yet to figure out what the look meant; it was halfway between unadulterated hate and unforgivable heartbreak. For a moment Draco thought Harry was going to tell him to go fuck himself, but he would never have been prepared for what he did say.

“Promise me, Draco,” Harry said clearly. “Promise me you won’t hate me.”

The words made Draco’s blood run cold and he suddenly wanted to go back in time and never ask again, but the coin had been tossed, and all he could do now was be ready to catch it when it landed.

“Nothing could ever make me hate you again, Harry. Never again, I promise.”

Harry closed his eyes tightly. He couldn’t look at Draco while he told him this, couldn’t bear to see the love in his eyes change to disgust. He curled into Draco’s arms and rested his forehead against Draco’s chest, letting the darkness close in on him as he started unlocking the memories he had stored so tightly away. At first they weren’t bad, uncomfortable, but not as bad as he thought they would be. But by the time he’d got to that night, the night that had changed his life forever, he was trembling in Draco’s arms.

“Harry.” Draco was shaking him but Harry couldn’t respond, he didn’t dare look up. Not until it was over. Draco held him tight and whispered into his ear the way he did when Harry lost control of his magic. The words didn’t matter, it was the sound of his voice that calmed Harry and gave him the strength to speak.

“You know we were together in our sixth year, right?” Harry’s voice was soft and hoarse, as though he’d been crying all night. He felt Draco nod and tried to continue. “We broke it off because of the war. I couldn’t risk Voldemort using her to get to me. I wanted to protect her because I really did love her.” Harry paused and swallowed the bile that was threatening to suffocate him.

“I was staying at the Borrow and Ginny was there all the time and we... we didn’t really get back together, but she would sneak into my room sometimes and tell me she was afraid to be alone, so I’d let her stay. We’d kiss and she’d touch me but...” Harry took a deep breath, but just couldn’t make himself say the words. He was older now and he knew logically there was nothing to be ashamed of, but the embarrassment and pain of his seventeen year old self was too strong to fight.

Draco held him tighter and kissed him on the top of the head. “You couldn’t get an erection,” he said mater-of-factly.

Harry nodded, grateful that he didn’t have to say it, yet feeling like a fool that he couldn’t.

“Harry, you’re gay. Of course you didn’t get an erection. Hell,” Draco chuckled, and then shuddered, “I would have had the same problem with Pansy if we’d ever got that far.”

Harry felt Draco’s laugh reverberate through his chest and it reminded him of love and happiness and everything good about his life at the moment, then he thought of how this might cause him to lose it all and a stab of pain ran through his stomach so fierce he almost doubled over.

Draco ran a soothing hand up and down his back and whispered in his ear again, but this time Harry heard the words and he couldn’t decide if they helped or made it worse. “Shh, Harry, it’s okay. I’ve got you and I won’t let anything hurt you. I love you, Harry. Just tell me what happened.”

Harry searched for that legendary Gryffindor courage and started again. “About three weeks after I arrived at the Burrow, we had to go out on a mission. It was Me, Ron and Hermione, but there was another guy named Jonathan that was to act as our guide. We had to camp for several nights before we were able to get what we’d gone for, and of course Ron and Hermione took one tent and Jonathan and I took the other. He was really nice and we got along well from the very beginning, but at night I found myself staring at him in his sleep. I wanted to touch him. Not sex, just... hold him. And when I thought about it I got so hard I thought I might die, so I ended up wanking every night after he fell asleep. Well, the last night, he woke up and... sort of helped.”

Draco nodded his understanding, and although Harry couldn’t see it, he could feel it. “So you started to figure out you liked guys, not girls. Did that help?”

“No. It made it worse. I told Ginny... told her what had happened and that I thought I might like guys, but she just laughed and said it was an experimental stage. That her brothers had all gone through it and it was nothing to be concerned about. That it didn’t change anything.”

“And you believed her?” Draco asked calmly, his voice not showing even a hint of accusation.

Harry nodded against Draco’s chest. “I didn’t know, Draco. I should have known, but fuck, I had Voldemort to worry about, I didn’t exactly have time to sort out why seeing your hand wrapped around a quill turned me on more than seeing her stark naked. I had fantasised about things with guys but I always thought it was wrong. Hell, I was raised in a family of homophobic, sexless morons. I didn’t even know it was an option, so I just tried to be ‘normal’.”

“I know, Harry. I’m not blaming you. You were a kid. It’s okay that you didn’t know.”

“Well, Ginny seemed determined to prove me wrong and started coming to me more often. I tried to tell her not to, that she should stop until I figured out what was going on in my own head, but she just kept telling me she loved me and that she couldn’t live without me and I...” Again, Harry had to swallow the bile that burned its way up his oesophagus. “I didn’t want to hurt her.”

Draco rubbed Harry’s hair out of his face and kissed him on the forehead. “It’s understandable, Harry. Just keep going. You need to get this out once and for all.” And once again Draco was whispering how much he loved him and that everything would be okay, and Harry had never wanted to die so much in his entire life.

“The next mission we had with Jonathan was only one night, but as soon as we were in the tent he pounced on me. Told me how much he’d been thinking of me and he kissed me and it felt so good I didn’t want to stop. We... God, Draco, I’d never had sex before, and I had no idea what I was doing but it felt so good and I knew I could never go back to the way things were. Afterwards Jonathan and I talked almost all night. Obviously he knew I was a virgin and he could tell that I was totally confused.” Harry shook his head. Looking back on it now he felt like an idiot that a total stranger had to explain these things to him. He sent a silent thank you to Jonathan, wherever he was, for his kindness and understanding. “I told him about Ginny and he explained that I couldn’t just make myself like girls, that it wasn’t simply a choice. Even though Ginny and I weren’t officially together, I still felt guilty, like I had cheated on her. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I knew I had to break it off.”

Draco just nodded and Harry could tell he was silently willing him to keep going. “I told her when I got back. Told her what had happened and that I was sure I was gay. She got really mad and wouldn’t talk to me for weeks. I felt bad, but I knew it was for the best. Until the night...” Harry stopped. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t tell Draco what had happened. His voice had disappeared and his throat was closing in and he just couldn’t do it. He stood up abruptly and ran to the toilet, purging his dinner. Draco followed him and wet a cool cloth for his head.

“Harry, have you talked to anybody about this before? Granger, anybody?”

Harry shook his head and threw up again.

After half an hour his stomach was still churning, but there was nothing left to come up. Draco pulled out a Calming Potion from the cabinet and helped him up so he could drink it. Once Harry was tucked back into bed, with the cool cloth still pressed firmly on his forehead Draco finally broke the silence. “You don’t have to keep going, but I think it will help if you do.”

Harry nodded. He’d come this far, and Draco had a right to know. “Ginny came to my room about two weeks later to apologize. She brought me a cup of tea and said she was sorry for behaving so selfishly. I was so relieved I could have kissed her. We sat for a long time sipping our tea and talking like we used to and I was so happy for things to be back to normal. When she finally left, she gave me a kiss on the cheek and asked how I was feeling. I said I was tired and she said she’d come check on me later. I thought it was odd, but I was just so happy to have her friendship back, I didn’t question it. I fell asleep right away, but Ron woke me when he came in. He and Hermione had had a fight, otherwise, he wouldn’t have been there, but... he was and when I woke up I...” Harry covered his face with his hands and shook his head. “I can’t, Draco. I can’t tell you. You’ll hate me.”

“Harry,” Draco whispered gently, pulling Harry’s hands away from his face and forcing the other man to look at him. “Harry, she gave you a potion in your tea. What did she give you?”

Harry looked into Draco’s eyes, filled with love and concern and Harry felt the warmth of the tears as they started streaming down his face. “Perturbatio Effrenus.”

Draco took in a sharp gulp of air and wrapped his arms around Harry so tightly the man almost couldn’t breathe. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, Harry. There’s only one thing that could have happened and it wasn’t your fault. You have to believe that. That potion is illegal for a good reason.” Draco leaned back and looked into Harry’s eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, Harry. It wasn’t.”

“I have to finish, Draco. You have to know.”

Draco looked at Harry closely and he must have understood. “Tell me, Harry. But no matter what you say, it doesn’t change anything between us. Do you understand?”

For the first time since Draco had asked that inevitable question, Harry saw a glimmer of hope that, maybe, just maybe, Draco would still be here when he woke up in the morning.

“Apparently Ginny had planned to come back up once the potion took effect. Ron was supposed to be with Hermione, he wasn’t supposed to be there, but he was and I... God, Draco, I attacked him like some animal. I tried to--”

“It’s a Rape Potion, Harry. That’s what it was designed for. They used it as a form of torture during the days of Grindelwald to make fathers rape their own children. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

“But I should have been able to, Draco,” Harry yelled, suddenly standing up and pacing the room like an agitated lion. “I can throw off the Imperius like it’s water. I should have been able to stop it!”

“Listen to me, Harry,” Draco said firmly as he stood and grabbed Harry’s arms in an effort to make the other man hear what he was saying. “It’s a potion, not a curse. They don’t work the same way. Even if you could train your body to resist it, it would take years. Can you resist Veritaserum?”

Harry shook his head and his shoulders dropped in defeat. “Nobody can.”

“Precisely my point. A potion works differently than a curse, that’s why they can be so dangerous. That’s why so many of them are illegal.”

Harry ran his hand through his hair and started pacing again. “Ginny came in while I was attacking Ron. She hexed him and then tried to calm me down, but...” Harry pressed his face against the cold wall, both hands balled tightly into fists on either side of his head. But I couldn’t calm down, Draco, I tried. I didn’t mean to... Draco I threw her down on the floor, ripped her clothes off, and...”

Draco moved to Harry and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his check against Harry’s back and holding him while he sobbed.

“God, Draco, it was her first time and I didn’t go slowly I just...” Harry slammed his head against the wall with a dull thud. “She cried for me to stop, she begged me to stop and I wanted to, but I couldn’t. And Ron...” Harry turned toward Draco and leaned his head back against the wall, eyes still closed tightly. “Ron was immobilized, but he heard the whole thing, he heard her screaming and couldn’t stop me.”

Draco pushed Harry’s hair away from his face and cautiously wiped away the tears that were still trickling down Harry’s face. “He knows it wasn’t your fault though, right? How--”

“Hermione came looking for Ron and found us. I had passed out, but she told me later what had happened. Ginny was crying and going on about some potion and how it wasn’t supposed to do that, it was just supposed to make me get hard. Hermione put two and two together and by morning Ginny was gone. She left a note saying she was sorry, that it was all her fault and she’d never be able to face any of us again. She sent an owl three months later saying she was in Germany and she was getting the help she needed to heal. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

Harry was afraid to look at Draco, but knew he needed to. He needed to see if there was still any love left in those crystal grey eyes. He bit his lip so hard he tasted the metallic taste of blood and looked up. Nothing he had ever done in his life could have prepared him for what he saw. There was not a trace of anger, or even pity. There was concern, there was protectiveness, and there was more love than there had been before. Relief swept over him like a gush of cool air and he felt a calm like he’d never experienced; a peace that could only come from sharing your deepest, most dreaded secrets, the darkest part of your soul, and being accepted and loved anyway.

Draco took his hand and led him back to the bed, tucking him into a cocoon of warm blankets, before going to the retrieve a Sleeping Draught. Without a word he put the potion to Harry’s lips and Harry drank it down like a child. Draco curled up next to him and wrapped his arms around him protectively, kissing him gently on the temple. Harry vaguely heard him whisper, “Go to sleep, love,” before he fell into a silent, vacant sleep.

*Perturbatio Effrenus - unbridled passion

The Last Bridge

Draco wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring when Harry’s eyes finally fluttered open. It had been long enough for him to count every eyelash, to memorize every line and freckle, long enough to know that he would never tire of watching Harry, asleep or awake.

“Morning,” Draco said softly. “How are you feeling?”

It took a few seconds for Harry’s eyes to focus, but when they finally did Draco felt like his entire universe had simply turned emerald green.

Harry stretched and looked around the room as though he’d forgotten where he was. “I feel alright,” he finally said, smacking his lips and still looking confused. “But my mouth tastes like bat-shit.”

Draco snorted and reached out to the bedside table for his wand. “Scourgify,” he said, pointing it at Harry’s mouth. “Glad I decided against kissing you awake.”

Harry reached up and traced the frame of Draco’s face with his fingertips. Something in his eyes told Draco he was replaying every word from last night’s revelation. “I’m glad you’re still here,” Harry finally whispered.

Draco covered Harry’s hand with his own and pulled it to his lips, kissing the sweaty palm. “Where else would I be?” Draco knew there were hundreds of possibilities running through Harry’s mind. Dozens of scenarios about what Draco might have done when he found out what happened with Ginny. “Are you okay?”

Harry nodded and smiled. “Yeah, better than I’ve been in a long time. Thank you, Draco.”

“No need to thank me, Harry. I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did.” Harry pulled Draco into his arms and held him as though he was never letting go. “Draco the things you said last night, I wouldn’t have believed them coming from anyone else, but from you... I know you wouldn’t lie to me about something this important. I know if you say I really couldn’t have stopped it, well, it doesn’t make the guilt go away, but it helps, you know?”

Draco nodded. He did know, because every time Harry told him he wasn’t responsible for his parents’ deaths it lessened the burden of guilt a little more.

“And you weren’t shocked; you didn’t act as though I was a monster. You didn’t leave.”

“Harry,” Draco pulled away so he could see the other man’s face, “you have to know something, and if this makes you think I’m a cruel and uncaring person, then I’m sorry, but ... if you had been able to stop, if you’d done it out of pure maliciousness, I’d still be here.” He took Harry’s hands and twined their fingers together, trying to think of a way to express what he was feeling. “I’ve never loved anyone other than myself and my parents, Harry. That’s not something I give away easily and it’s not something I would ever take back because of something you’ve done.”

“Draco, I--”

“No, Harry, let me finish. I’m not a Weasley; I’m Slytherin to the core. I know you’re a Gryffindor, good and brave and honourable and all that rubbish, but if you weren’t, if you were just Harry, human and flawed and... if you ever did things that would shock and horrify everyone else, you have to know I’d still love you. I’d still accept you, no matter what.”

Harry stared at him and Draco wondered how Harry always managed to touch his soul through those green eyes. “What are you thinking?”

Harry shook his head and smiled. “How I could have missed this all those years. I’m glad you asked about what happened. That you cared enough to keep asking.”

Draco knew that Harry was going to be okay, that they were going to be okay. He smirked and tossed his hair back arrogantly. “Well, you know me, nosy prat that I am. I have to know everything.”

Harry chuckled and pulled Draco closer. “Remind me to tell you about Voldemort’s Horcruxes one day then.”

Draco stilled and looked up at Harry with wide eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

Harry laughed. “No, I’m afraid I’m not.” He’d never told anyone about his search for the Horcruxes, never even talked about it with Ron and Hermione once it was over, but for some reason he wanted to tell Draco. Tell him everything, because he knew now that nothing he could say would scare the man away.

Draco could tell Harry was relieved that he could now share all of his secrets. It was so evident in his eyes and Draco was happy to know Harry trusted him enough to share the burdens he had carried for so long. “Are you hungry? I can get breakfast.”

Before Harry could answer there was an insistent knock on the bedroom door and both men started. Dobby had never interrupted them in the bedroom before and Harry’s expression instantly changed to worry. “Come in Dobby.”

“Harry Potter and Mr Malfoy has a visitor who will not be going away,” Dobby said, wringing his hands nervously and averting his eyes as best he could.

Both men looked at each other, on the verge of laughing at the nervous little elf.

“Dobby, who is it?” Harry asked with a grin.

“Mr. Sebastian Stavros and he says it be urgent that he speak with you. He says...” Dobby covered his face with his hands before mumbling, “He says it be more important than a late morning shag.”

Draco raised a brow and smirked. “It must be pretty damn important, then.”

Harry huffed as he climbed out of bed and headed toward the door. “Of all the bloody people to interrupt, Stavros is possibly the worst,” he complained bitterly.

“Harry? Aren’t you going to get dressed first?”

Harry looked back and scowled. “No. If he’s rude enough to barge into my home unannounced in the middle of morning shag time, then I can damn well be rude enough to see him in my pyjamas.”

Draco laughed and climbed out of bed to join him.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Harry said, shaking his head menacingly. “You get dressed.”

“What?” Draco huffed. “Why do I have to get dressed?”

Harry gave Draco a warning look. “Because you aren’t going within fifty feet of Mr Roaming Eyes unless you’re fully clothed and preferably robed as well. If he’s going to ogle you, I want him to have to use his imagination.”

Draco walked over to Harry, wrapping his arms around him and grinning like a cat. “God, you really are sexy when you’re jealous.”

Harry made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. “You, cheeky bastard, go get dressed. I’ll entertain out guest.”

When Harry entered the sitting room, Sebastian Stavros appeared to be lost in thought, staring at a photo on the mantel piece. The photo of Harry and Draco that he, himself, had taken for the article in the Prophet. He didn’t seem to notice that Harry had even entered the room, much less what Harry was wearing.

“Mr Stavros, what urgent business brings you here so early this morning?”

Sebastian glanced at the clock next to the photo and smirked. “Hardly early, Mr Potter.”

Harry dug in his heals, deciding he would not let this man get the best of him. “For us, I’m afraid it is. Now, what can I do for you?”

The reporter eyed Harry suspiciously. “Will Draco be joining us? This concerns him, as well.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to smirk. “He’s getting dressed; he’ll probably be a while. Anything you have to say, you can say to me.”

Sebastian sat with a heavy thud into a chair near the fireplace and ran a tanned hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, Mr Potter, I know we didn’t get off on the right foot, but it’s pretty obvious who the winner of our little competition is. I never even stood a chance and I know that. But I do like Draco for some reason and I don’t want him to get hurt anymore than you do.”

Harry sat on the sofa across from him and almost felt sorry for the man. “I love him, Mr Stavros; I’m not going to let anything hurt him.”

“Well you should know, then, that I got an anonymous tip this morning. According to the tip, Draco’s been receiving threatening letters and he was, in fact, the target of last month’s attack, not you.”

Harry stood up and swore a litany that would have made old Mrs Black’s portrait blush. He took a deep breath and faced Sebastian. “What exactly are you planning to do with that information?”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, watching Harry carefully. “Whatever you tell me to do with it.”

Harry turned to face him, his surprise obvious.

“I told you, I like him. I’ve been a reporter for a long time, Mr Potter. I know what would happen if I printed this.”

When Harry sat back down, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his face furiously with his hands. He looked up at Sebastian, for the first time actually seeing him. He mentally cursed himself for doing the one thing he hated people to do to him. From the moment Sebastian had walked through the door months ago, the only thing Harry had seen was his designer clothes, his perfect body, and his beautiful face. He had judged the man entirely on that impression. How was that any different from people judging him by his scar? Fuck, it’s not different at all.

“Sebastian, I think I owe you an apology.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, smiling. “If I’d had half a chance in hell with Draco, I would have tried to hex you in your sleep to get to him. But I’m smart enough to know when to admit defeat. All you have to do is see the way he watches you when he knows you’re not looking. You really are a lucky man, Mr Potter.”

“Harry, please, and yeah, I am. I couldn’t agree more.”

“So what do I do with this information? I can only bury it for so long before they contact someone else.”

Harry called Dobby in for some tea and settled in for what he feared would be a long discussion. “How did they contact you?”

“Non-descript post owl. The message disintegrated as soon as I read it. That’s why I'm so sure it was genuine.”

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck,” he mumbled.

“Look, does Hermione know the whole story?”

Harry nodded and could almost see the wheels turning in Sebastian’s mind.

“Good, then I can work with this. I can run a series of stories posing as an investigation. I’ll have to question the motives of the attack, but I won’t have to direct them back to Draco. I can put enough doubt into the minds of the public that they might not jump to conclusions on their own. At least it will appear I’m trying to get the real scoop and maybe hold off whoever sent the note in the first place. As editor, Hermione can get the story printed.”

Harry nodded. “That will at least buy us some time.”

“Buy us time for what?” Draco asked as he entered the room, wrapping an arm around Harry and kissing him on the cheek.

Sebastian glanced at Harry and grinned as he stood and shook Draco’s hand. “Good to see you again Draco. Harry was just kicking me out so you two could go back to bed, I think.”

Harry laughed and walked Sebastian to the door. “If you had gone to Hogwarts, I’m pretty sure you would have been a Slytherin.”

“From what I’ve heard, I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

Harry just smiled and shook the man’s hand, not sure himself. “Thanks, Sebastian. Keep me informed, would you? I don’t know how long it’ll take to catch this guy.”

When Harry got back to the sitting room, Draco was waiting for him with his best smirk. “I do believe the mighty Harry Potter has succumbed to the Greek God’s charms. Should I be worried?”

Harry pulled Draco into his arms and kissed him breathless. “I have succumbed to his charms, but you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” Harry kissed him again, letting his lips travel wherever they saw fit.

“Harry,” Draco practically moaned. “I just got dressed.”

“I know; undressing you is my second favourite pastime.”

“But, Harry,” Draco whined, even as he pushed against Harry for more friction. “What did he want?”

Harry already had Draco’s robe open, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and kissing the well travelled path down Draco’s neck to his perfect collarbone. “I’ll tell you later – if you’re a very good boy,” Harry whispered, smirking at the shiver that ghosted over Draco’s skin.

“I hate you, Potter,” Draco said breathlessly as his hands pushed their way past the elastic band on Harry’s pyjama pants, cupping his arse roughly and grinding their bodies together.

Harry chuckled as he looked up into Draco’s darkened, lustful eyes. “Sebastian’s right. I am one lucky man, aren’t I?”

Draco snarled and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him back toward the bedroom. “Damn right you are, now, back to bed.”

Draco had been sure their love making couldn’t possibly get any better, but he knew now how very wrong he’d been. He realised Harry had been holding a part of himself back and when he let it go, when he surrendered everything to Draco it was truly miraculous. By the time his last orgasm was torn from his sweaty body he felt like he’d been taken apart, bit by bit, and threaded back together with the strong cords of Harry’s heart and soul. They had made it over the last bridge and they had crossed it together, hand in hand.

“I think we should stay in bed all day,” Draco said as he ran his hand through Harry’s hair, following the waves from one messy curl to the next and twisting them around his fingers.

Harry hummed against his chest before rolling over to look at the time. “As much as I would love to do just that, I have to go check the wards at The Burrow.”

Draco groaned. He’d forgotten about dinner at the Weasley’s tonight. “They aren’t going to do something obnoxious for my birthday are they, Harry?”

Harry laughed. “No, Draco, I don’t even think they know yesterday was your birthday. I’m good at keeping secrets, remember?”

Draco looked at him and scowled. “Too good, apparently.”

Harry rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “No more secrets, Draco. I promise. If you want to know something, ask and I’ll tell you.”

Draco rolled onto his side, propping himself up like Harry’s mirror image. He looked into Harry’s eyes and asked with a completely serious face, “Have you ever had a threesome, Harry? That Sebastian is really hot.” He burst out laughing at Harry’s astounded expression before smirking like the Slytherin that he was.

Harry pushed Draco onto his back, holding his wrists tightly to the bed and straddling his hips. He leaned close to Draco’s ear and whispered gruffly, “You are an incorrigible, poncy, self-centred git, and if you ever mention him, or anyone else, in that context again I will bind you to my bed and leave you here.”

Draco couldn’t stifle the moan that crept from his throat. He couldn’t control the need to press his groin up against Harry’s solid body as it pressed him into the bed, couldn’t contain the overwhelming need he felt for Harry to take him and make him his again.

“You’re mine, Draco Malfoy. Mine, nobody else’s. Mine.” Harry’s voice was gruff and menacing and Draco felt the slightest tickle of magic and power and he moaned again, this time louder and needy. His heart was pounding and he couldn’t seem to get any air into his lungs. “Oh. Merlin, Harry. Fuck me, please.” If Draco hadn’t known the words came from him, he wouldn’t have recognized them. He was begging. Begging Harry Potter to fuck him, to pound him into the mattress until he screamed, to own him.

He opened his eyes to see Harry staring at him. His expression was mostly surprise, but his eyes were dark and Draco knew Harry wanted this as much as he did.

“Are you--”

“Fuck, Harry, yes! I’m sure. Now!”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He kicked the covers away and manoeuvred himself clumsily between Draco’s legs. Before he was even comfortable, Draco wrapped his long legs around him and pulled him in with a strength that surprised them both.

"Don’t let go of my wrists, Harry. Do the spell and fuck me.”

Harry hesitated and Draco answered it with a growl and pushed his arse up to meet Harry’s cock. “Harry, I swear on my mother’s grave, if you don’t fuck me now, I’ll kill you.”

Harry whispered the spell and pushed hard into Draco’s tight passage, giving Draco what he wanted. Fuck, they’d both be sore later, but it felt so amazing.

Within minutes shimmering white strings were shooting from Draco’s cock and he was screaming louder than Harry had ever heard him. He would have been shocked had he not been too busy thrusting and chanting, “mine, mine, mine,” until he collapsed onto Draco with a dull thud.

They lay that way, panting and gasping for air, neither exactly sure what had just happened, but both infinitely grateful that it had.

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry finally whispered hoarsely. “For someone who doesn’t like to bottom, you sure as hell know how to do it.”

Draco pulled Harry to him and kissed him feverishly before saying with uncharacteristic emotion, “Only for you, Harry. Only for you.”

Dinner and Disaster

As soon as Draco stepped out of the Floo he knew this would be more difficult than the last time he’d visited. The noise from the kitchen was already at obnoxious levels and he could tell there were more people in the house than last time. He immediately looked at Harry with an accusatory glance wondering if Harry hadn’t planned some outrageous surprise birthday party after all.

Harry simply shrugged before yelling out, “Hello, we’re here.” The call was answered by the twins as they bound into the family room.

“You made it!”

“We were beginning to worry you’d backed out.”

Harry laughed and gave Draco an ‘I told you so’ look. “No, we were just running a little behind schedule. Draco spends more time in front of the mirror than I do.”

“And it shows, Harry, just look at him.”

Every eye turned toward the deep, resounding voice to see Bill leaning against the doorway grinning. Draco remembered seeing him at the last task during the Triwizard Tournament. He had thought, even then, that with his masculine features, long hair and daring earring, he was much too handsome to be a Weasley. Now he was barely recognizable as the same man, the wounds that had torn his face to shreds were now thick and heavy scars, marring the once warm, expressive face.

As Bill walked toward the group, a heavy hush fell as everyone seemed to hold their breath. Bill held out his hand to Draco, looking directly into those grey eyes that seemed suddenly too old and weary to belong to the handsome young man that stood before them. “Welcome Draco. It’s good to meet you finally.”

Draco shook his hand but couldn’t force any words from his lips. He suddenly feared he would be sick, and wanted nothing more than to run back to France and stay hidden forever.

Bill couldn’t believe this was the same wiry, obnoxious brat he remembered seeing at Hogwarts so many years ago. Draco Malfoy had grown up. The photos in the Prophet had not done him justice. He released Draco’s hand and turned to Harry. “Mum’s been waiting for you. Why don’t you go say hello. I think Malfoy and I need to have a word.”

Harry knew Bill had come to terms with what had happened. He’d told Harry that he harboured no grudge against Draco, but coming face to face could easily bring back emotions and change that. He glanced to the twins for some indication of what to do, but they only shrugged. “Bill, I’m not so sure--”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Draco said, sounding more confident than he felt. “He’s right, we should talk. This is his family’s home. I can’t stay here unless I know it’s all right with him.”

Harry searched Draco’s eyes, seeing nothing there but a protective grey mask.

“Go, Harry,” Draco said softly. “I need to do this by myself.”

Harry still hesitated, taking Draco’s hand and gnawing his lip raw. Draco gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and Harry finally let the twins drag him away.

Bill sat at the table that held the family chess game. The irony was not lost on Draco as Bill motioned for him to sit in the chair on the other side. He folded his hands in his lap to keep them from trembling and took a deep breath before beginning quietly, “I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry.”

Before the Floo had activated, Bill had known exactly what he wanted to say, but suddenly the lecture he had prepared to give to an arrogant Malfoy heir was no longer fitting. The sorrow and regret radiated off of the young man as thickly as if it were black smoke. There was no need for him, or anyone else, to point out the error of his ways. “Thank you,” Bill finally said. “That’s all you needed to say.”

Draco looked up to see the warmest set of eyes staring at him and he immediately looked back down to his hands, feeling once again ashamed of his actions. “I didn’t know they would bring him. They weren’t supposed to,” he said quietly.

“Draco,” Bill said firmly, surprised at how easily the name now rolled off his tongue. “Draco, look at me.”

Draco’s eyes shot up and for a moment he wished the man would just hex him blind.

“I understand the circumstances,” Bill said quietly, startled to hear the same tone he used to use to comfort his brothers when they were hurt. He realised then that Draco had long since paid for the mistakes he’d made in his life. “I think you’ve more than made up for your crimes.”

“But I--”

“You made a mistake. A very big, very stupid mistake and you paid dearly for it in the end. You’ve lost much more than I have, Draco. I have a beautiful wife who loves me no matter what I look like. I have wonderful children who don’t even notice the scars. I still have a mother to worry over me and drive me crazy. You don’t owe me anything more than an apology.”

Draco sat up straight, squared his shoulders, and looked directly into Bill’s eyes. “I really am very sorry.”

Bill smiled and Draco noticed that even with the scars, he was still a handsome man.

“I’m definitely not your type,” Bill said, laughing at the look on Draco’s face.

Draco couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Come on, let’s go show the family that we haven’t killed each other.” Bill stood and put his hand out to pull Draco to his feet.

Draco took his hand and smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

Bill draped an arm around his shoulders. “Think nothing of it. Besides, Fred and George tell me you make Harry happy. That’s a task no one else has been able to accomplish.”

They walked into the loud kitchen and the noise, Draco noticed, didn’t seem quite so annoying anymore. It was the sound of happiness, of love, of family.

Harry was talking animatedly with Charlie. The twins were holding their stomachs and laughing at Ron, whose face was a putrid shade of violet. Mrs Weasley and Fleur Delacour were talking seriously in a corner. There were two children, Draco assumed to be Bill's, scampering onto chairs trying to reach a large platter of biscuits that was in the centre of the huge table.

Bill shook his head and chuckled. “You do realise, Draco, that being with Harry means you’re stuck with the rest of us.”

Draco arched a brow and grinned. “It's worth it. He’s a really good shag.”

Bill barked out a deep, earthy laugh and everyone turned to look. Harry’s smile almost split his face in two when he saw the grin on Draco’s face.

Bill leaned into Draco and whispered in his ear, “I haven’t seen him smile like that since he was sixteen. You’re good for him; don’t let anyone ever tell you differently.”

Draco was smiling back at Harry and he knew it wasn’t a dignified, Malfoy smile, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

Harry made his way to where they were standing and without a word, hugged Bill. He turned to Draco, taking his hand he led him silently up the stairs to Ron’s old room.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked as soon as the door was closed. “Bill didn’t say anything... he didn’t--”

“Yes, Harry, I’m fine. You knew he didn’t say anything hurtful or you wouldn’t have hugged him.” Draco looked at Harry inquisitively. “Why did you bring me up here?”

Harry chewed his lip nervously looking at Draco shyly from under his lashes.

Draco grinned and moved closer running his finger down Harry’s arm. “Harry? Why did you bring me up here?” he asked seductively.

“Fuck, Draco, Bill had his arm around you, whispering in your ear. I’m sorry; I just needed to see you alone.”

Draco laughed and pulled Harry into his arms. “He is a fine looking bloke. Too bad he’s straight and happily married!” he exclaimed with false frustration.

Harry chuckled against Draco’s neck. “I’m fucking pathetic aren’t I, Draco?”

Draco pulled back and looked at him with pride and humour in his eyes. “Yes, Potter, you are and I love you for it.”

Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and held his head while kissing him gently, nipping and tugging at his lower lip.

“Harry, you need to stop or we’ll miss dinner.”

“Mmm,” Harry mumbled as he moved his attention to Draco’s ear.

“Harry, Weasley will kill us both if we have sex in his room.”

Harry groaned and dropped his head to Draco’s shoulder. “Fuck, you’re right. Would it be rude to leave before dinner?”

Draco snickered and wrapped his arms tightly around Harry’s waist. “Yes, that would be rude. Come on Boy Wonder; let’s go have dinner with the family. I’ll shag you senseless as soon as we get home.”

“Promise?” Harry mumbled.

“Promise,” Draco said, kissing Harry on the temple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house was deathly silent as they walked down the stairs. Draco looked at Harry and arched a brow in question. As Harry opened the kitchen door, the twins were the first to crack. Bursting into laughter as tears streamed down their checks. Charlie and Bill were grinning and Ron was scowling. Luckily Mrs Weasley and Fleur were nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck you all,” Harry said, blushing but holding his head high as he crossed the room to grab a Butterbeer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Throughout dinner, Draco watched the family interact with open-eyed wonder. His father had told him countless times that the Weasleys were beneath them, that they had no sense of family or honour. His father had been wrong about many things, and this, Draco realised, was definitely one of them. He sat and watched how Mrs. Weasley still treated Harry as a son, even after what had happened to her only daughter. He could tell that Fred, George, Charlie and Bill all understood and accepted that Harry wasn’t to blame. There wasn’t even a hint of awkwardness between their interactions. If those things alone didn’t spell out the very definition of family and honour, Draco didn’t think anything could.

“Draco, dear, you’re not eating very much. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, Mrs Weasley, it’s all wonderful, just watching my figure.” He winked at her and she giggled like a school-girl.

He listened as Ron and Harry talked about Quidditch and caught up on gossip about old friends. Draco thought about how Weasley had valued Harry’s friendship enough to put aside his own painful memories to fight by Harry’s side during the war. Knowing what happened with Ginny made that simple task seem so much more heroic. It was amazing how knowing that missing piece of information about Harry’s life made all the difference in the world. He realised that after tonight he would never be able to look at the Weasleys the same way again.

Draco wasn’t sure why Bill had forgiven him so easily for the part he’d played in the attack on Hogwarts. He wondered how much of it was for Harry’s benefit. But even if the only reason Bill had forgiven him was because Harry loved him, then he still respected the man immensely. He was starting to learn the true meaning of friendship, but he had a feeling there would be many more lessons in the future.

After dinner and one too many Butterbeers, they all helped clear the table before moving the party into the family room. Bill and Fleur left in order to get the children to bed at a decent hour and Mrs Weasley announced, as she yawned, that she was going up to bed. She gave every son a warm hug before leaving, and Draco was shocked to find himself now included in the somewhat uncomfortable ritual.

Once she was out of the room, Harry surprised everyone by pulling Draco onto his lap and kissing him deeply. All the Weasleys hooted and cheered except Ron, who simply shook his head and tried not to grin.

“Harry?” Draco said quietly when he knew no one was paying attention. “You seem to be in an unusually good mood tonight.”

Draco was no longer in Harry’s lap, but his legs were still draped over him and Harry had a possessive arm wrapped firmly around him. “I am. It’s nice to be here with them, and with you. It’s... it makes it all seem more real somehow.” He pulled Draco closer and nuzzled into his neck.

Draco laughed and accused Harry of snuggling like a kitten, to which Harry promptly began to purr. This was a side of Harry he’d not really experienced and it was almost too much to take in all at once. He extricated himself from Harry’s arms to go in search of the loo.

When he came out, Charlie was waiting in the hallway by the door. “Fuck, Charlie, you startled me.”

“He told you didn’t he?”

Draco didn’t know Charlie well enough to like him, but he felt comfortable around him. It seemed like he cared about Harry and Harry certainly trusted him. “Harry’s told me a lot of things, Charlie. Which one are you referring to?”

“Ginny.”

Draco took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he nodded. He wasn’t sure how to handle the discussion. This was, after all, her older, dragon-taming brother.

“What did you say to him?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s really between me and Harry.”

Charlie smiled. “Well, whatever it was, thank you. He hasn’t been this relaxed around us since it happened.”

Draco leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “I told him it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have fought the Potion.”

“Fuck, Draco, we’ve all told him that.”

“Yes, but you’re his family, I’m not. I’m also damned good at Potions and he knows that. He believes me. He trusts me not to lie to him, and I don’t.”

Charlie looked down and shuffled his feet. “Do you blame Ginny? Do you think it’s her fault?”

Up until the question was asked Draco felt sure his answer would be a resounding yes. But he couldn’t say it. Bill’s voice flooded his thoughts and all he could do was echo Bill’s words. “She made a very big, very stupid mistake and has paid dearly for it. I can relate to that.”

Charlie nodded, understanding completely. “Come on, we’d better get back down stairs or that jealous boyfriend of yours will come looking for us.”

Draco laughed as they turned the corner and headed toward the stairs. “Tell me, Charlie, has he always been this jealous, or is it just me?”

“It’s just you, mate,” Charlie responded, snickering.

As they came down the stairs, Draco’s eyes roamed around the room and settled in shock on the small antique clock on a corner shelf. “Charlie? Where did you get that clock?”

Charlie followed Draco’s eyes and smiled. “The ministry sent it a few months back as a gift of appreciation for Dad’s loyal service and sacrifice. We thought it a bit strange, but it seems to be a Muggle clock. We figured with Dad’s love for Muggle things, it was appropriate.”

Draco walked toward the clock as if in a daze. The closer he got the hazier the daze became. He could picture his father standing by the fireplace at the Manor, a glass of wine in one hand, telling him the story of how a Muggle clock came to be a Malfoy family heirloom. “The secret behind the clock, son, is both its simplicity and its genius. It is to remind us that Muggles are not stupid; they can be both inventive and creative. That we should never be complacent enough to think that what once happened would never happen again.” As a child, the visions of witch’s and wizard’s being burned and tortured had haunted his days and invaded his sleep. Every time he’d looked at that clock in his father’s study, he had been forced to remember.

His eyes were so focused on the clock that he stumbled over something in the floor and felt Harry’s strong arms catch him before he fell.

“Draco, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“The clock; it’s my fathers,” Draco said, confused as to how the Ministry could have got it and why they would have given it to the Weasleys. Just as he reached out to touch it he heard Harry yell for him to stop, but it was too late. He felt the sharp tug in his stomach and felt several bones break when he landed hard on a cold concrete floor.

The Aftermath

As Draco looked around Harry’s sterile white room, he couldn’t help but notice how dismal St Mungo’s was. He kept trying to remind himself that things could have been much worse, but since he wasn’t exactly sure what had happened in the first place, he was finding it rather difficult.

He remembered reaching out to touch his father’s clock and then all hell had broken loose. He’d felt sharp pains shoot through the left side of his body and saw his wand fly from his robe. When he looked up all he saw was Vaisey staring at him with pure, unadulterated hatred. The kind of hate you stockpile for years, feeding it with just the right amounts of resentment and insanity. He hadn’t been as melodramatic as Voldemort would have been. He’d wasted no time on accusations or boasting, just looked Draco in the eye and raised his wand.

Draco had closed his eyes and thought about Harry. If he was going to die, he hadn’t wanted his last vision to be the ghostly green of Avada Kedavra; he’d wanted it to be the warm green eyes of the man he loved.

He had waited for the words, but they never came, instead he heard what sounded like a tornado and Draco found himself thrown to the ground, not by the force of a spell, but by warm, familiar arms. He remembered vaguely wondering how Harry had found him so quickly, but after that, it all went a bit fuzzy.

He couldn’t see what Vaisey was doing because Harry was on top of him, shielding him, not only with his body, but with his magic. What seemed like a hundred panicked voices were shouting out spells but none of them made it past the protective cocoon that Harry had wrapped them in. They would hit the invisible barrier and dissipate into dozens of beautiful colours. It was like watching raindrops bounce off a colourful stained glass window and he remembered thinking it wasn’t what he thought dying would feel like.

But then he’d felt the gentle tickle of Harry’s magic and he knew, somehow, that they’d be okay. It grew stronger and stronger until it was nothing but raw power, completely unrestrained, and it lashed out at Vaisey and everyone else in the room, at the very air that spilled through the cracks in the walls. Even through the shield, he felt the pressure of it against his skull, could feel it pushing the air from his lungs. He heard the walls crack and bend in on themselves and just when he thought they would fall and crush them, Harry Apparated them out, back to The Burrow. When they landed, still flat on the floor, Harry had looked down at him and smiled before slumping, limp and lifeless, onto his chest.

He must have passed out after that, because the next thing he remembered was waking up at St Mungo’s with his arm and leg completely bandaged. The breaks had been too severe to heal with magic alone, but he was assured they would heal completely in a day or two if he ‘behaved himself and rested quietly’. Damn Healer had the audacity to tell him he couldn’t leave his room to see Harry. Draco scowled at the mere thought. Little did the stumpy little man know, no one stands between a Malfoy and the one they love.

“Hmph, I guess I showed him,” he said smugly just as he heard the door of Harry’s room open behind him. He didn’t even wait for the twins to get into the room. “Did they find him?”

George nodded, or maybe it was Fred, hell if knew or even cared. “Is he dead?”

“Well, if having his breath sucked out of his chest hadn’t killed him, the wall that crushed his skull would have. So yeah, he’s dead.”

“Malfoy, what exactly happened in there? The place looked like... fuck, I don’t even have anything to compare it to.”

Draco smiled down at Harry, who looked like he was resting peacefully. “Harry happened. That’s what.”

The silence that followed was deafening and Draco knew the twins were both gaping, but he couldn’t draw his eyes away from Harry to look.

Fred finally pulled up a chair and sat next to him, squeezing Draco’s knee in an effort to reassure him. “How’s he doing?”

“He’ll be fine.” Draco’s confidence surprised even him. He will be fine. He has to be. “The Healer said it was a simple case of over exertion. He used too much magic over such a short period of time. It’s nothing more than a bad case of magical fatigue.”

The twins both nodded, knowing better than to ask any more. “Ron and Charlie are helping the Aurors sort out the bodies. They’ve yet to identify anyone other than Vaisey.”

“We’ve owled Hermione, so we expect she’ll be here soon. Is there anything—”

“No,” Draco cut them off abruptly, and then looked up at them apologetically. “Sorry, but no, there’s nothing you can do. Thanks, though, for...” Draco took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting his eyes fall again to the rise and fall of Harry’s chest. He knew the man would be fine. He was bloody Harry Potter, he was always fine. But still, seeing him like this was difficult at best. Draco looked up to see both Weasley’s staring at him. “Thanks, for everything,” he said finally, hoping they understood what he meant.

George patted him on the back and grinned. “Don’t worry, Malfoy. He’ll be up for a nice long shag in no time.”

Draco nodded and tried to smile. Keeping his eyes on Harry, he finally worked up the courage to ask the one question that he hadn’t been able to figure out. “George? How did Harry find me so quickly?”

George snorted and Fred laughed out loud. “Mate, we have no idea! We thought he was going to lose it after you disappeared--”

“Yeah, he just closed his eyes and got quiet, then we felt this tickling feeling and--”

“And then he turned around, smiled and said, ‘Found him,” then Apparated away.”

Draco looked confused. “But I thought the wards--”

“Yeah, Malfoy, that’s what we thought. The Burrow’s been warded against Apparation since before the war. He shouldn’t have been able to Apparate out or Apparate the two of you back in.”

Draco let the new information sink in. “Fuck.”

“Exactly,” Fred said with more than a hint of admiration.

“And he’s all yours, Malfoy,” George finished with a wicked grin. “Oh, by the way, the press is here.”

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with. “Fuck, it’s still the middle of the night. How’d they find out so quickly?”

Both twins chuckled.

“It might have had something to do with the sound of a freight train that ripped through the village and scared half the population to death--”

“Or the sound of the explosion that could be heard for ten miles--”

“Or the smoke that’s still covering half the houses in the area.”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture. Fuck, when Harry does something, he does it in a big way, doesn’t he?”

The twins both grinned and some of the tension in the room dissipated. “And you’re just now figuring that out, Malfoy?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Look, maybe there is one thing you can do.”

Both men nodded and looked at him inquisitively.

“Can you go down to where the press is and find Sebastian Stavros? He’s tall, dark and handsome; you won’t be able to miss him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sir Aertsen--”

“Oh, for fucks sake, my name’s Malfoy.” Draco immediately felt bad for barking. “I’m sorry, Corin, but the whole world knows, I’d like it if you and Evrard would use it now.”

Corin nodded and handed him a note. “It’s from the Minister of Magic.”

Draco thanked Corin as he took it and untied the scroll. He’d wondered what was taking Sheba so long. He’d half expected her to be waiting in Harry’s room when he got there.

Draco,

I’ve been informed of what has occurred tonight. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you, but the Healers have assured me both of you will be fine. The press will not stop until they get a story out of this. It’s entirely your decision, but I would suggest it’s time to tell them the whole truth. Give my love to Harry when he wakes up.

Sheba

“Thanks Sheba,” he mumbled to himself. “Sebastian’s going to get one hell of a scoop tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco had just finished his interview with Sebastian. No, it was more like a discussion than an interview. The man was very perceptive. He’d put all the facts together and had come to the correct conclusions. Draco found himself merely confirming the events of the night, rather than telling the story, for which he was immensely grateful.

He’d settled into the chair which he’d transformed, against the mediwitch’s wishes, into a comfortable lounge, and was totally unprepared for the arm full of Granger that practically knocked him over.

“God, Draco, are you okay? Is Harry okay? What happened? George said Vaisey’s dead--”

“Granger, slow down, you’re giving me a headache.”

“Sorry,” Hermione said sheepishly as she leaned over to give Harry a kiss on the forehead. “How is he?”

Draco yawned. It was four o’clock in the morning and he was exhausted. “He’s fine, or at least he will be.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and pulled a chair up close to Harry’s bed. “What about you? Are you okay?”

Feeling annoyed, Draco felt the urge to snipe. It wasn't that he hadn’t accepted Granger as part of Harry’s life, it wasn’t even that he disliked her, she was just too friendly sometimes and it made him uncomfortable. No one was ever that friendly with him except for Harry and he wanted it to stay that way. “It’s not like I’ve never had a broken bone before, you know.”

Hermione chewed her lip nervously. “Fred told me what the place looked like. Harry lost control of his magic, didn’t he?” She paused, waiting for Draco to either confirm or deny it, but he just stared at Harry like he’d not heard her. “Look, Draco, I’ve seen Harry when that happens. It can be down-right scary.”

Draco snorted. “At least he seemed to have some control over it this time.”

Hermione turned to him and gaped. “This time?”

Draco’s gaze moved from Harry and he smirked, mentally apologizing for breaking his promise, but thoroughly enjoying the fact that he and Harry had their own secrets now. It was childish, he knew, but he couldn’t be bothered to feel guilty. “Oops, I forgot I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“You forgot... how many times?” Hermione waited for a response, but got none. “Damnit, Draco, how many times?”

“Twice. And stop calling me Draco. It’s giving me the creeps.”

“Twice! Fuck, when?”

“Look, Granger, it’s not that big of a deal. He broke a few vases and shook the walls a bit and then he was fine. He’s obviously learning to control it or we’d both be dead right now.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was suddenly very quiet and Draco wondered if maybe there was more to Harry’s uncontrolled magic than he’d been told.

“He put up some sort of protection shield around us before he unleashed it. It was almost like he was doing it on purpose. Like he was focusing the power.”

Hermione looked at Draco with shock, then at Harry with something akin to awe. “They said he’d never be able to control it,” she whispered almost to herself. “They said it was too strong.”

Draco snorted again. “Well whoever the hell ‘they’ were, didn’t fucking know Harry Potter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Annoyed wasn’t exactly the right word to use for the feeling Ron had as he waited outside Harry’s room for the two burly men to look over their list and allow him to enter. Harry Potter, protection guru extraordinaire, was being guarded by none other than Draco Malfoy’s bodyguards. The irony was as thick as one of Neville’s potions.

“You may go in, Mr Weasley,” one of the men finally said with a thick French accent as he opened the door politely.

The last thing Ron expected to see was a crumpled looking Malfoy sleeping hunched over Harry’s bed. As Ron moved closer, he could see Malfoy’s head wasn’t actually touching the bed, that his face was nestled into the palm of Harry’s outstretched hand. Harry’s fingers were twined in the long blond hair, almost as if Malfoy had tangled them on purpose. This wasn’t the Malfoy he was used to seeing and he noticed, with a fair bit of disgust, that there was a line of drool dribbling down his chin. Ron couldn’t help but chuckle at how incensed Malfoy would be when he found out Ron had seen him like this. He looked almost like a normal bloke, and the mere thought made Ron cringe. He quietly placed the package his mum had sent on the bedside table, remembering too late that stealth wasn’t his strong point.

“Fuck, Weasley, you scared the shit out of me.” Draco had jerked his head up so quickly that he left several strands of hair behind, still tangled in Harry’s fingers.

“Sorry, mate. Mum sent over breakfast.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at the term ‘mate’ and Ron noted it didn’t look nearly as intimidating with drool dripping down his chin. He couldn’t help but snicker. Maybe the man was human, after all.

“Thanks,” Draco said quietly. “That was very thoughtful of her.”

Ron nodded and shifted his feet uncomfortably. “So, I take it there’s no change?”

Draco shook his head and looked at Harry as if his stare alone was enough to bring him back to consciousness. “The Healer said he should wake up sometime today.” Draco sat back in his chair, stretching and scrubbing his face the same way Harry always did when he was worried. “I need to go to the loo, would you mind sitting with him for a few? They said he might be a bit disoriented when he wakes up. I’d rather not leave him alone.”

The mediwitch outside had told Ron that Malfoy wouldn’t leave the room. That he’d threatened two Healers and the night guard with everything from hexes to legal retaliation before they had finally agreed to let him stay. It finally struck Ron, like a tiny stab in the gut, that Malfoy really did care for Harry, as much as, if not more, than any of them did. Any hope he’d been harbouring that this was just a fling, born from Harry’s innate need to save people, vanished as quickly as a late summer thunderstorm. The surprising thing was, he wasn’t too terribly upset by the thought. “Sure, mate. I can do that.” Ron looked at the bandages that covered Malfoy’s left leg. “Do you need any help?”

Draco simply snorted and hobbled from the room.

Ron sat in the vacated chair and stared at his unconscious friend. “Well, mate, it looks like once again you’ve done the impossible. You’ve actually tamed the dragon, haven’t you?” He half expected Harry to open his eyes and grin, but the stillness of the room simply got heavier. The commotion in the hallway was a pleasant diversion and Ron’s wartime instincts kicked in immediately. He cracked the door open and had to chuckle.

“Mr Malfoy, you simply cannot walk around until your leg is healed.”

“Bugger off woman, I told you I was perfectly fine. If you want to worry over someone, you can go check on Harry. He hasn’t had his Nourishment Potion yet and it’s almost eight o’clock. Where is that incompetent Healer anyway?”

Ron closed the door and shook his head, finding and odd sense of comfort in knowing Malfoy could be just as interfering and irksome as ever. “Well, it’s good to know there are a few things that haven’t changed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The string of visitors that came and went all day would have been comforting if he’d been Harry. But he wasn’t Harry, and he wanted to hex them all by the time dinner rolled around. Everyone would ask “How is Harry?” “Still not awake yet?” “When do they expect him to come around?” Fuck! Did they not realise that every time he had to answer one of those questions part of him cowered in fear. Fear that somehow the Healers had it all wrong. Fear that he would be sitting by this bed for the rest of his life, because fuck it all, if Harry was here, he would be too.

“Hey.”

Draco jerked from his musings and smiled in relief at the crooked grin on Harry’s face. “It’s about time you woke up. I was starting to get annoyed.”

Harry reached out and took Draco’s hand, bringing to his lips to kiss it gently. “I’m sorry I worried you, but I promised you I’d be okay.”

“You promised to try. And I didn’t say I was worried, I said I was annoyed.” Draco tried his best for a stern face, but knew he was failing miserably.

Harry laughed warmly, but stopped abruptly when he noticed Draco’s leg wrapped from hip to ankle in crisp white bandages. “Did I hurt you?” Harry asked, and Draco could hear the panic in his voice.

“No, Harry, you didn’t. I hit the concrete floor pretty hard. I don’t think the Portkey was designed to be gentle.” Draco saw a flash of anger flitter through Harry’s eyes. “I’m fine, my arm’s already healed, the bones in my leg are just taking a little longer.”

Harry rolled onto his side, running his hand along the bandaged leg. Draco felt it warm under Harry’s touch and start to tingle from the inside.

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco whispered as he closed his eyes and felt Harry’s magic moving inside him, binding the bones back together, one by one. It was quite possibly the most erotic thing Harry had ever done. He wasn’t sure what exactly turned him on about the experience: the power, the tenderness, or the fact that Harry’s magic was inside him, inside his flesh, inside his bones, healing him.

“Better?” Harry asked quietly.

“Fuck, Harry.” It was all Draco seemed capable of saying.

Harry chuckled. “I think we’ve already established that you do that very well.”

Draco let his head fall on Harry’s bare chest and mumbled, “You have no idea what you’re in for when you get out of here.”

“Mmm,” Harry hummed seductively, running his hands down Draco’s back and leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “When can I leave?”

“The Healer said you can go as soon as your magic levels are back up again. It might take a day or two.” Draco sat up and gave Harry a hard look. “No more magic until you’re healed. You shouldn’t have done that with my leg. That could have set you back.”

Harry huffed and let his head fall back onto his pillow. “So did they get Vaisey?”

“No, Harry, they didn’t. You did,” Draco said, softly. “He won’t be bothering us anymore.”

“Good.” Harry cocked his head and grinned that adorable crooked grin that Draco had fallen so in love with. “So, no more Vaisey, no more threats. What do we do now?”

“Well, Potter.” Draco propped his arms on the side of Harry’s bed and looked at him smugly. “I do believe I have a promise to keep as soon as we get home.”

Harry smiled a beautiful, face-splitting smile and threaded his fingers in Draco’s silky hair, pulling him down for a long, tender kiss. “And after that?” he whispered.

Draco shrugged, pushing Harry back onto the bed and climbing in next to him. He curled up around the other man, draping arms and legs over him as if he was trying to tie him to the bed. Draco had no idea what the future would bring, had no idea what he’d be doing next month or next year. But he was sure of one thing. Regardless of where they were or what they were doing, they’d be together. “Harry, I think it’s safe to say we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Epilogue