1  Nervous, Yet?

"Nervous, Potter?" Malfoy asked.

"No." The tone was flat and the green eyes glared the same hatred Draco had seen for the past seven years.

"You should be," Draco snapped. It annoyed him that Potter told the truth. Draco could tell. If the positions were reversed, Draco would have been nervous. Hell, he would have been bloody terrified.

Harry Potter was currently chained to a huge pillar in a cavernous room beneath an abandoned castle in Scotland—Death Eater headquarters. Both arms were spread wide and stretched over his head. Iron manacles gripped his wrists, attached to the chains fastened to the pillar. His feet were spread, also, heels pressed hard against the base of the pillar; iron held his ankles.

He was completely nude. It amused the Death Eaters to keep Harry Potter in such a state of helpless vulnerability. Especially Fenrir Greyback, though he had been forbidden to go anywhere near Potter. For now.

Draco went on. "My father sent me down here to have a go at you."

"Knock yourself out," Harry said in a bored tone. Draco was reluctantly impressed that Potter's Gryffindor bravado had not deserted him. Assorted Death Eaters had tortured Harry throughout the night. To no purpose, of course. One dose of Veritaserum and Potter had spilled his limited knowledge of Order of the Phoenix activities and everything else he knew. The Death Eaters simply felt like softening Potter up for the arrival of the Dark Lord later that day.

"Very well," Draco said. "How about a Cruciatus?" He leveled a burst at Potter, whose body instantly jerked against the chain. Harry rose onto the tips of his toes and his back arched as the agony consumed him. He did not scream, but clenched his jaw and threw his head back so hard it slammed against the pillar. His eyes were tightly shut.

Draco found the sight strangely captivating. He released the spell and Potter slumped in the chains, suspended by his arms. He only sagged for a moment and then carefully got his feet beneath him and stood once more.

He glared at Draco. Potter's glasses were gone, so Malfoy wasn't sure how clearly Potter could see, but the venomous gaze met Draco's intently. Malfoy realized that the Cruciatus Curse would never work on Potter. They could Crucio him until he went mad, but he would never break.

Draco walked forward until he stood directly in front of Harry, close enough to feel Potter's breath on his face. Draco pressed the tip of his wand against the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Nervous yet, Potter?"

"No." The emerald eyes flashed.

Draco traced the scar with his wand and continued the motion across Harry's forehead. The black hair slipped over the wand in a dark cascade. Malfoy followed the hairline to Harry's temple and then down over Potter's chiseled cheek to touch briefly on Harry's earlobe. He paused there and his eyes met Potter's. The green orbs were fathomless.

Draco continued the slow path down the slim line of Harry's neck to the hollow of his throat. He paused again and tugged the wand over Potter's collarbone to the deep groove of his shoulder caused by Harry's upraised arms.

He dragged it gently back over the collarbone to the center of Harry's chest and then downward, over the breastbone and following the trail of dark hair to Potter's navel. The wand tip circled Harry's navel and dropped lower, to touch the curls on Potter's groin.

"Nervous yet, Potter?" Draco asked again, taunting.

"No," Harry replied, but there was an odd look in his eyes. Draco smirked. He might be a Death Eater now, but he had learned a thing or two from his father about subtlety.

He flicked the wand away from Harry's skin and transferred it to his left hand. With his right, he touched an index finger to Harry's scar. Slowly, he followed the same path as the wand, trailing it slowly over Potter's forehead to his temple. The soft hair wafted over Malfoy's hand and Draco found his gaze locked on Harry's.

Draco splayed his fingers and caressed Potter's cheekbone. He sensed Harry's desire to jerk away from his touch, but the Gryffindor pride would not allow it. Draco's fingers brushed Harry's earlobe and slid delicately down Potter's neck to rest in the hollow of his throat. He paused there until he felt a pulse—not quite as slow and steady as Potter would have liked, no doubt.

Draco ran his fingers across the collarbone and back to the center of Harry's chest. He allowed a grin to curve his lips as he trailed his touch lightly downward, following the delicate line of soft hair until it met the thicker hair below. Malfoy dipped his hand into the curls for a moment and stilled his hand.

"Nervous yet, Potter?" he asked huskily.

"No," Harry said, but his voice sounded ragged and Draco saw a muscle in his jaw twitch.

Draco leaned forward and rose slightly on his toes to touch his tongue to Harry's scar. He felt Potter's breath against his throat and nearly shivered—God, but he was getting turned on. For a mere instant he thought of Harry in bed, panting that hot breath against his neck… Draco dragged his mind back to the present before Potter got the bright idea to bite him instead of standing there in frozen shock.

Draco slid his tongue over Potter's forehead, following the path of wand and hand. Harry's soft hair flitted over Draco's face in a gossamer caress.

Malfoy pressed a kiss to Harry's temple and heard Potter's breathing—definitely uneven now—hitch slightly. He moved his lips over the shapely cheekbone to Harry's earlobe. Draco took it into his mouth and nibbled it. He exhaled gently into Potter's ear.

Harry's head tipped back again, giving Malfoy access to the beautiful line of his neck. Draco's tongue glided downward and traced a path to the tantalizing hollow of Potter's throat.

Harry nearly panted now and the puffs of air ruffled Draco's hair as he licked the edge of Potter's collarbone. Damn it all, but he tasted good. Malfoy followed the thin bone to Harry's shoulder and dragged his teeth over the muscle there before sliding his mouth back across Harry's collarbone.

Draco heard the chains clink. He grinned slightly and started downward, nuzzling the fine dusting of hair on Potter's chest. He licked his way to Harry's navel, where he paused to dip his tongue into the indentation.

Potter made a choking sound and Malfoy glanced up to see Harry's head thrown back again—fuck, that was an erotic sight. For a moment, Draco nearly stood up and kissed Potter on the lips… but first things first.

He left Harry's navel and slid his tongue downward into the black curls until his lips grazed the base of Potter's cock, which was standing at attention. Draco had to close his eyes for a moment to steady his own breathing.

He got shakily to his feet and looked into Harry's half-lidded eyes. Draco pressed himself against Harry's body and thrust slightly with his hips so that Potter could feel his own arousal.

"Nervous yet, Potter?" he asked hoarsely.

Draco's triumph was a single, barely audible word.

"Yes."

2 Nervous, Too

Draco felt Harry's body tremble and he smiled wickedly at the heady sense of power. The other Death Eaters had tortured Harry throughout the night, but it had been Draco who had brought the proud Gryffindor low. All it had taken was a few soft touches; the gentle caress of hands, lips, and tongue.

Draco was willing to wager Potter hated him right now more than he ever had before. And Draco wasn't nearly finished. He thrust his hips forward again, pressing his erection against Harry's. Potter was nude, chained to a large pillar in the dungeon of an abandoned Scottish castle. Draco was fully clothed, but so turned on it was all he could do not to tear his own clothing off in order to feel every inch of Potter's flesh against his own.

He pressed his lips against Harry's neck and twisted his fingers into Potter's thick black hair. Draco had already gained one reluctant admission from Potter. Now he sought another.

"Tell me you want me, Potter," Draco whispered and drew his tongue along the line of Harry's throat from collarbone to ear. Harry shuddered.

"No," he said defiantly. Draco smiled gently and teased Harry's earlobe with his teeth. He detached one hand from Potter's hair and slipped it down over Harry's body, past shoulder, and chest, and abdomen. Draco gripped Harry's cock and felt more than heard a cry nearly escape from the Gryffindor—stifled before it could betray him.

"It's already obvious, Potter," Draco said softly as his thumb stroked the hard shaft and glided gently over the smooth head. "Just admit it."

"No," Harry breathed, a tortured moan.

Draco tsked. "So stubborn." His hand stroked the velveteen smoothness. "Tell me."

Harry gasped so harshly it was nearly a sob.

"I want you," he whispered hoarsely. Draco froze. He expected the thrill of victory that accompanied the words; he did not expect the explosive rush of desire that punched through him like a sword thrust. He couldn't breathe for a moment.

Suddenly, it was no longer a game.

Draco released Harry and stepped back, shaken. Potter's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were tightly closed. His wrists twisted in the chains in a repetitive motion that was probably unconscious; a desperate need to be free. Draco noted with horror that the movement had drawn blood.

"Don't," Draco said quietly and the green eyes snapped open to glare at him. Harry's lips twisted in a sneer when he saw what drew Draco's attention.

"The sight of blood bothers you, Malfoy? Ironic, considering your twisted mind games. You know goddamn well they cut deeper than these fucking iron chains." Harry jerked angrily at the bonds again and a smear of red appeared beneath the shackles.

Draco flushed, an odd combination of anger and shame. He had come here with the intention of breaking the mighty Potter—why the hell should he regret his success? Frankly, Harry's weakness seemed to have been temporary. Potter was in a fine Gryffindor rage, now.

"Why don't you get the hell out of here, Malfoy? Go upstairs with your other soulless cohorts and wait for your great master to return? I'm sure he'll grant you front row seats for the entertainment." Harry snapped his chains once more. "And you'd better prepare for a hell of a lot more than this little display of blood, because I doubt Voldemort plans to take me out with a simple Avada Kedavra after what I've done lately."

Draco knew it was true. He knew everything Potter had said was true, because the Veritaserum still coursed through Harry's veins. Draco gnawed on a nail for a moment, thinking. The thought of Potter's imminent demise suddenly disturbed him. Potter had been such a constant presence in Draco's life… what would he do for a nemesis once Harry was gone?

He looked at Potter speculatively. God, the Gryffindor was annoying. He had been a bloody thorn in Draco's side since boyhood. Even now, naked, chained, and humiliated, Potter still exuded that fucking superior attitude. The green eyes fairly glowed with rage beneath that unruly thatch of dark hair. That damned messy mop of hair. Draco wanted to put his hands in it again. The texture was amazing, nearly as soft as Draco's, but so much thicker and with a tantalizing hint of curl at the nape of his neck.

Draco cursed inwardly. Regardless of how much Draco hated the Gryffindor, Potter was delightfully fuckable and it would be such a bloody waste. The very idea of that Quidditch-honed body crushed and broken because of the insane ideology of an undead madman… Draco found himself pacing. Potter's head was tipped back to rest against the pillar once more and he watched Draco through narrowed eyes.

Malfoy snarled and stepped back to Harry. He pressed himself against Potter, amused at the way Harry's body stiffened and the breath caught in the Gryffindor's throat. Oh, he really, really hated Draco touching him. Malfoy grinned and gave in to the urge to feel the black hair again. He twisted his hands into it in a ruthless caress and met Potter's gaze levelly.

"I'm not ready for you to die just yet, Potter," Draco admitted. Harry said nothing. Malfoy's thumbs felt the soft patches of flesh behind Potter's ears and brushed over them gently. "It's just not right, you see," Draco continued. "Because you are mine, Potter, not his. I made you what you are. Not him. Me. I taught you to fly. I gave you the drive to always be better than me. I kept you on your toes. I was there to balk you at every turn and scheme behind your back. Not Voldemort with his foolish convoluted plots and ridiculous machinations. I watched you and thwarted you and lived every moment in your shadow. I made you wary and distrustful. I made you strong enough to stand here and face death on your own two feet and spit in the eye of the one that pretends to own you. By hell, he does not have that right, because I am the one that has lived for you and you alone, Potter. You are mine and I am not about to let you go."

Harry's eyes had grown wide and baffled as Draco spoke.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I mean to get you out of here. But only with a few conditions."

Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously and Draco felt a strange upsurge of pride. Yes, Draco had taught him well never to trust a Slytherin.

"My options seem rather limited at the moment," Harry admitted. "What conditions?"

"One; you do exactly as I tell you with no arguments whatsoever. If we are to get out of this alive, it will take precise coordination and impeccable planning. Slytherin planning," Draco stated.

"Agreed," Harry said mildly.

"Two; you swear an Unbreakable Vow of loyalty to me. You swear never to harm me or allow me to come to harm if it is in your power to prevent it."

Potter looked stunned, as well he should. Draco was asking a lot. Hell, he was asking everything. Potter just didn't know it yet.

"Who will be the Binder?" Harry asked.

"I'll take your word for it, for now. We'll make it official later," Draco said, knowing you could take Gryffindor honor to the bank and exchange it for gold. Harry swallowed.

"I so swear."

Draco smiled. "And finally, you will allow me to make love to you before you leave this castle." Harry's stricken expression made it clear that this condition trumped all the others, as far as Potter was concerned. Draco nearly laughed aloud. The little idiot should have been far more concerned about the vow he had just made.

"Why?" Harry asked in a horrified tone.

"Let's call it my way of sealing the deal," Draco said lightly. Marking my property, he added to himself. "Besides, you already admitted to wanting me, so I doubt you'll find the experience as bad as all that. And, as you pointed out, you are desperately low on options."

"You are inexplicably evil," Harry said raggedly.

"Yes, yes, and your hatred of me knows no bounds," Draco drawled in a bored tone. "What's it to be?"

"God, I feel like I'm selling my soul to the devil."

Draco grinned wickedly. "Thanks, Potter, that's very flattering. Now say, 'I promise.'"

"I promise," Harry repeated with a defeated groan. Draco felt like he'd just dug up buried treasure.

Draco stepped back and pulled his wand from a pocket. He spelled open the shackles on Potter's wrists and was surprised when Harry toppled forward. Malfoy barely caught him in time.

"You might have unfastened my ankles, first," Harry suggested belatedly. Draco shifted his grip on Potter and quickly released the lower chains. Harry was nearly a dead weight.

"My arms… don't seem to be working," Harry said. "And I can't feel my hands."

Not surprising, considering they had been bound over his head the entire night. Draco lowered him to the ground.

"Stay here. I'll see if they left your things lying about."

A large, ugly table rested at the edge of the room and a leather pack sat atop that. The contents had been rummaged through haphazardly, but seemed mostly to consist of clothing and foodstuffs. One item caught Draco's eye immediately and he groaned.

"God, I'm almost ashamed to call myself a Death Eater," he mumbled and snatched the invisibility cloak out of the pack. Crabbe or Goyle had likely searched the pack and reported nothing of value, not recognizing the cloak as anything special. What an incredible spot of luck for Draco, though. Potter's glasses sat on the table.

Harry's wand, of course, had been taken and now rested in the possession of Lucius Malfoy. Potter was on his feet and trying to shake feeling back into his hands.

"Lucky for us some of my 'soulless cohorts' are imbeciles," Draco said. He tucked Potter's glasses onto his head and felt a bit of relief when the handsome visage was marred once more by the dark frames. Not that the spectacles really made much difference. He handed Harry a pair of breeches, which Potter fumbled to put on until Malfoy helped him with an exasperated sigh, although he inwardly enjoyed Potter's blush as Draco made sure Harry's bits were properly tucked away before zipping the trousers.

He grabbed one of Harry's hands and rubbed the cold appendage vigorously before doing the same to the other.

"All right, time is against us," Draco said briskly. "No telling how long they'll leave me down here. Luckily, Father and I are the only early risers and I don't think he'll make an effort to check on me."

Draco slung the invisibility cloak over both of them. It barely covered them and left their legs exposed nearly to the knees. Draco quickly took off his boots and carried them.

"If we see anyone, crouch down and pray the bloody thing conceals us completely." With that, Draco put an arm around Potter's bare waist and steered him to the door. The dark corridor and stairwell were deserted, as was the room at the top of the stairs.

The tricky part was getting past the large archway that led to the kitchen—the one room that was nearly always occupied. Draco and Harry crept forward until Malfoy could peer into the room. A large figure was seated at the huge butcher-block table in the center of the room, thankfully with his back to them. Avery.

Draco rushed Potter silently past the doorway, glad he had removed his boots. Harry's bare feet made no sound. A short hallway led to the old servants' quarters, where Draco's temporary bedroom stood. The room was tiny and humble, but the grander rooms upstairs had been taken by the other Death Eaters in residence. Draco would rather live in squalor than share a room.

He slumped against the door in relief, after it shut behind them, and they had extracted themselves from the cloak. He sealed the door with a locking spell and then cast a Silencing Charm.

"Now for the fun part," Draco said dryly and smiled when Potter's green eyes flew to the bed with a distinctly un-Gryffindor-like expression of stark terror.

"I meant fun for you," Draco clarified. "I want you to Obliviate my memory."

"What?" Potter asked in astonishment.

"Not permanently, of course." Draco outlined his plan and then took a massively deep breath, realizing what could possibly be the stupidest act of his life lay before him.

He handed Harry Potter his wand.

Potter looked at the long, black bit of hawthorn and the muscles in his jaw worked soundlessly. It would be so easy, Draco knew. Hex me and fly, Potter, he thought. Fuck the vow and forget me. Just get out.

Harry sat down on the bed.

"Better get comfortable. This could take awhile," he said.

Draco suppressed a sigh of relief and joined Harry. The first hurdle had been crossed. Now it remained to be seen if Potter would hold back when given access to Draco's memories and mind. Harry's hand touched Draco's temple almost gently.

"All right… you will slip into a light trance…"

Harry's voice droned on and Draco's awareness drained away.

Draco returned to alertness to find himself lying on the bed with Potter's face hovering over him. Draco sat up groggily and flicked back through his memories of the morning. Everything seemed intact.

"I don't feel any different. And I remember everything." Draco's tone was faintly accusatory.

"I put in a keyword trigger," Harry explained. He conjured a quill and a scrap of paper, using Draco's wand with casual familiarity. He scrawled a word and handed it to Draco. A Quidditch term. Blatch. "I doubt that will come up in casual Death Eater conversation. The block will be cancelled when you see my face—just in case you decide to hex me before I can get a word out. Do you want to test it?"

"How long did this take?"

"About fifteen minutes."

Draco shook his head and stood. "No time. I need to get back. We're lucky no one has sounded the alarm, yet. Lay on the bed and I'll cover you with the cloak. You can rest while I'm gone."

Harry complied, not using the pillow to avoid leaving an obvious dip, and Draco draped the cloak over the Gryffindor.

"Get some sleep. There's no telling how long this will take."

As an added precaution, he cast a Full Body Bind on Potter, just in case he decided to slip out once Draco had gone. And to prevent him thrashing in his sleep and dislodging the cloak.

Now for the hard part. Draco crept down the hall and past the kitchen soundlessly, thankful for the natural grace that allowed him to move quietly.

He stood in the dungeon before the now-empty pillar and put his boots on quickly. After taking a steadying breath and reminding himself that it was completely worth the bother to have Harry Potter as his willing slave, Draco cast a Stupefy at the pillar and shouted Potter's trigger word. The red beam bounced off the marble and hit him full on.

ooOoo

Someone was tapping his cheeks. Draco swatted them away in annoyance.

"Draco, wake up!" It was Goyle's voice. Draco opened his eyes reluctantly. Fuck, he had a headache. And what the hell was he doing on the floor? He sat up.

"Potter's gone!" Goyle said and Draco suddenly remembered where he was. In the dungeon, torturing Potter. He got to his feet angrily and looked at the empty chains on the pillar. He remembered casting a Cruciatus Curse at Potter… but nothing else.

"What hit me?" he asked.

"I don't know. Stunner, most like. Was it Potter?"

Draco shook his head.

"It couldn't have been. He was chained and I was Crucioing him." Draco spied his wand on the ground and snatched it up, somewhat surprised that Potter had not taken it. "It must have been the Order. How did they find him?"

"Bugger that; how did they get in and out? Fuck, Lucius is going to have my bloody head."

"Yours? I was the one in here tormenting Potter, and I didn't see anything."

"And Lucius' wrath won't be nothing to the Dark Lord's."

He and Goyle looked at each other in mutual trepidation.

"No help for it. I'll go inform my father," Draco said with a sigh. Goyle looked relieved.

Draco returned to his room and leaned against the door when it shut behind him. His headache had grown until it felt like a Nundu was gnawing on his skull. No one had the ability to verbally eviscerate like Lucius Malfoy. And all without raising his voice above a sibilant whisper. Draco hoped to inherit that talent one day.

Right now, he just wanted to lie down and stare at the ceiling in order to convince himself that Potter's disappearance was not his fault. And hope to hell he could convince the Dark Lord of that when he arrived.

Draco pushed himself away from the door and threw himself on the bed before leaping up with an oath. What the hell? He reached out a tentative hand and encountered a solid form. An invisible solid form. Draco's fingers snagged in the soft material beneath his hand; he dragged it off in one smooth motion.

Draco stared in utter astonishment at the body revealed. Jean-clad, shirtless, black hair… God, it was Harry Potter! As soon as his shocked gaze met the sleeping visage, the controls on his memory melted away.

Bloody hell… Draco sank down on the bed and assimilated the lost memories. Damn, Potter had done an incredible job. For being a fairly oblivious student in school, he had obviously applied himself once out of it.

Draco touched Potter with the end of his wand to cancel the Full Body Bind, but Potter did not stir. The Gryffindor must have been exhausted. He threw the cloak back over the somnolent hero and went down the hall to fetch something to eat. Draco wasn't hungry, but figured Potter would be when he awoke. The kitchen was empty, as the Death Eaters were out searching the castle from top to bottom to try and determine how the Golden Boy had slipped through their fingers. Draco had been just as angry and indignant as the others, and he felt slightly disjointed now that the truth had returned to him. He rather felt like two people in the same body.

Luckily, the angry portion was completely mollified by the glee induced at the thought of the Boy Wonder being in Draco's eternal debt. It was worth any number of verbal thrashings from Lucius Malfoy.

Truth be known, his father would most likely burst with pride if he knew of Draco's underhanded dealings. Hadn't the bastard been teaching him how to be manipulative since he could walk?

Draco double-sealed the door and set the tray of food on the bedside table before removing his shirt and climbing into bed next to Potter. The bed was not large; both of them barely fit on it together. He raked back the cloak to expose Harry's bare chest. Unwittingly, he reached out and touched the soft strands of hair beneath the hollow of Potter's throat. Harry sighed in his sleep and flung a hand out. His fingers trailed absently over Draco's midriff and came to a rest with his fingertips still touching Draco's abdomen. Malfoy wondered why it was suddenly hard to breathe.

He let his own hand drop and it curled up on Potter's bicep. Draco lay still and watched the Savior of the Wizarding World sleep.

A loud hammering on the door woke them both. Draco's eyes snapped open and met the startled green eyes of Potter, whose face was so close to Draco's that they shared the same air.

"Draco!" a voice bellowed beyond the portal.

He sat up quickly. "I'm up, Goyle!" he said loudly.

"The Dark Lord is here. He… requests your presence."

"I'll be right out."

Draco snapped his gaze back to Harry with a wry grin.

"Your Memory Charm passed my father's test… let's see if it can withstand Voldemort's Legilimency."

Potter sat up. "I'll need to adjust your last few memories."

Draco wordlessly handed Potter the wand and tried to relax. Time was of the essence. One did not keep the Dark Lord waiting. Potter's hand cupped the side of Draco's face and the long fingers were warm against his throat. Harry cast quickly, murmuring softly, and Draco smiled languidly when Potter's hand lingered against his face as he finished.

Potter snatched his hand away and Draco noted with amusement that a blush tinted the Gryffindor's cheeks. Harry cleared his throat.

"Good luck."

"That's very sweet, Potter," Draco drawled. Harry scowled.

"It's self-preservation. If the Charm doesn't work, I'm dead. And so are you."

"Let's hope your Gryffindor luck holds out, then, Chosen One," Draco said as he tugged his shirt on and buttoned it. "Give me your word that you'll stay here until I get back and I won't immobilize you."

"You have my word," Harry said, though his eyes flashed dangerously. Malfoy was having a great time extracting promises from Potter. He leaned forward impulsively and pressed a chaste kiss on Harry's shocked lips.

"I'll be back, Potter," he said ominously and went out. He locked the door behind him, took a steadying breath, and whispered the word to purge his memory.

Voldemort's snakelike eyes bored into his and Draco could practically feel intrusive tendrils slithering into his mind, seeking for untruth and alert for deception.

"Do you know how Harry Potter escaped from under your nose, Draco?" Voldemort hissed. Draco swallowed, heartily glad that he had been knocked out during Potter's rescue; though he did wish he could have gotten off a curse or two, or at least seen who had taken Potter.

"No, but he could not have done it alone."

"Indeed. And you saw no one?" The pressure on Draco's mind was a tangible force.

"Only Potter. And he was chained."

"Who do you suppose released him?"

"No idea."

"You were conveniently Stunned," Voldemort said. Draco felt a surge of anger.

"Convenient," he snapped. "Interesting choice of words."

"It seems reasonable that one of the Death Eaters released Potter. The Order of the Phoenix knows nothing of subtlety. I believe we have a traitor in our midst, Draco, and I mean to stamp him out."

Draco swallowed through a suddenly dry throat. Voldemort was constantly alert for betrayal, the price of maintaining order through fear.

"Who do you suppose has the most to gain by keeping Potter alive, Draco?" Voldemort asked conversationally.

Everyone? Draco thought immediately and mentally cringed. He fought for control and prayed the Dark Lord had not picked the sarcastic notion from his mind.

"I'm sure I don't know."

"Really? Offhand, I would say your father."

Draco's brow shot up in surprise. "Father?"

The corpselike hand reached up and patted Draco's cheek. It was so cold to the touch it nearly burned. The gesture was curiously reminiscent of something that fluttered against Draco's memory like a whisper.

"You seem genuinely shocked, Draco. Lucky you. If your father plots against me, he has wisely kept the knowledge from you, eh?"

"My father is loyal!" Draco said hotly.

Voldemort patted his cheek once more and stepped away, seemingly satisfied.

"Very well, Draco, you may go."

Thus dismissed, Malfoy wasted no time departing the sepulcher presence. He stopped in the Great Hall, where the other Death Eaters gathered tensely. Lucius looked at him expressionlessly. Draco stood close to his father and noted wryly, and not for the first time, that Lucius was still slightly taller and probably always would be.

"He thinks you betray him," Draco said.

"He thinks we all betray him," Lucius drawled. "He requires a sacrifice."

"Well, he'd better look elsewhere," Draco snapped. "Damn it, if only I had seen who took Potter…"

"Patience, Draco. If any blame is to fall, it will be on my head for not adequately guarding the Gryffindor hero."

Draco paled and Lucius allowed the ghost of a smile to touch his lips.

"Fear not. He still needs me. Even he would not destroy me in a fit of rage. Who, then, would lead this rabble? Avery? Nott?"

Draco snorted a laugh, disguising his relief, although he did not quite share his father's confidence in the Dark Lord's ability to rationalize. He sighed.

"I'm going back to my room until he leaves," Draco said. "It tires me to watch the others grovel."

Lucius nodded curtly and moved toward Crabbe as Draco departed.

Draco stopped at the kitchen to collect a tray of food and a bottle of wine. When he reached the door to his room, he was surprised to find he'd locked it. What did he have to hide? Even his favorite silver comb had been left at Malfoy Manor.

He shifted the tray and used his wand to unlock it before pushing the door open. He took four steps across the small room and slid the wooden tray onto the table… right next to another wooden tray that held an empty plate and teacup. A tray that Draco had no recollection of bringing in.

He snatched his wand and whirled, still gripping the bottle in his left hand. Draco's eyes scanned the room warily, searching for movement beneath or behind the bed. There was really nowhere in the small room to hide.

Draco relaxed minutely and lowered his wand a fraction. A shimmer caught his attention, barely visible out of the corner of his eye. The wand snapped up. He was shocked for a period of two heartbeats and a spell was on his lips when his gaze met Harry Potter's and the memory block fell away.

"Fuck, that's an unpleasant sensation," he said as Potter's cloak slipped off the bare shoulders. It took him a moment to reassess his memories. Draco scowled suspiciously. "You were thinking about sneaking out and leaving me here with a blocked memory, weren't you, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry admitted bluntly. His eyes slid away from Draco's and a sudden blush darkened his cheeks. Malfoy suddenly knew why Potter had wanted to bolt.

"Why didn't you?" he asked softly.

"Because I gave my word. The day that stops meaning something is the day I turn myself over to Voldemort."

"Is that the only reason?" Draco drawled. Harry looked away again and his throat moved slightly as he swallowed.

"No. I stayed because I owe you. Without you, I'd be gasping my last breath right now, or begging for death. I won't forget that."

Draco would never have imagined he would hear those words from the Chosen One. He could hardly assimilate them now. He felt a thrill that had little to do with the words, and far more with the way Potter toyed nervously with the fold of cloak in his hands, and the way his cheeks were still sweetly pink. The Gryffindor would stalk out there and face down Voldemort, if necessary, with scarcely a flinch, but he was dead petrified to be in here now, with Draco. It was a heady sensation.

Draco strode forward, tucking his wand into a pocket and dropping the wine bottle on the tiny washstand next to Harry. He put his hands on either side of Potter's face and Harry's eyes widened in alarm. He couldn't speak, however, because Draco's lips locked onto his. For all his torment of Potter in the dungeon, Draco had not kissed him. He made up for that oversight.

Draco plundered Harry's mouth. He would have wagered his fortune that Potter had never been well and truly kissed before. Draco tongue forced past lips and teeth to twist with Harry's. He lapped at the sensitive edges of Potter's tongue, earning a gasp of surprise, muffled by Draco's lips.

Malfoy's hands slipped into Potter's hair and turned the Gryffindor's head slightly for better access. Draco stroked, sucked, and nipped at Harry's mouth until Potter could hardly breathe. His hands were clenched in Draco's shirt, one at either side of Malfoy's waist.

Draco's hands slowly left Potter's hair and slid downward, over his chest and ribs to enfold Harry's back. He caressed Potter's smooth flesh, glad that he had neglected to retrieve a shirt for Harry. He gripped Potter tightly for a moment and then maneuvered the Gryffindor to the bed with a couple of quick steps.

Harry fell back onto the mattress with Draco atop him. The kiss had been broken for only a moment; Draco did not intend to give Potter a chance to think. He fastened his lips to Harry's again. He did not bother to unbutton his own shirt; instead he tore it open with one swift yank. Draco made a sound of pure pleasure as his bare skin touched Harry's. Potter was as aroused as Draco, if the hard line beneath Malfoy's flank was any indication.

Draco shifted slightly and moved his hands to the waistband of Harry's jeans. Potter made a quick, panicked thrash and his hands gripped Draco's wrists to halt the motion. Malfoy switched tactics. His mouth left Harry's for a moment and Draco pulled back to look at Potter's face. His glasses were askew, so Draco grabbed the bridge with his teeth and pulled them off with a flexing movement of his neck. Another flick sent them sailing across the pillow.

Harry's eyes were wide and uncertain, but his lips were wet and swollen, slightly parted in unconscious invitation. Draco groaned and nibbled gently at Potter's lips. His fingers minutely moved over Harry's abdomen, not straying far from the top of Potter's jeans. Harry's hands still rested on Malfoy's wrists, but quiescently, exerting no pressure.

Draco left Harry's mouth and kissed Potter's jaw, sliding his tongue down the soft skin of Harry's throat. He pressed a line of wet kisses over Potter's collarbone and licked the hollow above the bone.

He kissed his way downward and flicked his tongue over one of Harry's nipples, earning a gasp and a nearly suppressed quiver. Draco felt a wicked surge of satisfaction at the discovery that Potter's nipples were extremely sensitive. He sucked at it and Potter's hands left his wrists to clench in Draco's hair.

Freed of restraint, Malfoy quickly unfastened Harry's jeans and slid them down with a quick thrust of hands over Potter's hips. He continued to lick at Harry's responsive nipples as he did so, moving from one to the other. Draco had to stop to remove his own trousers, but he did so quickly and then gripped Potter's hips again.

Draco pressed himself upward and took Harry's mouth once more. Potter whimpered slightly when Malfoy's naked erection rubbed against his with delicious friction. Draco quickly tore his shirt the rest of the way off, needing to feel all of Harry's skin against his own. He detached his mouth from Potter's for a moment to breathe hotly in Harry's ear.

"You are so fucking hot, Potter," he said. Harry shivered. Draco went on, "You think about Voldemort every time you see your scar, don't you, Potter? Well, when I'm done with you, every time you see that scar, every time you look in the mirror, you'll think of me."

Draco hand found Potter's hard cock and stroked it experimentally. Potter's hands, still in Draco's hair, twisted almost painfully. Harry panted as Malfoy's hand moved rhythmically, but Draco wasn't ready for Potter to get off that easily. He released Harry's shaft and slipped his hand downward, caressing the testicles before probing Harry's anus with two fingers. Potter jerked as if electrified. He was instantly tense.

"You know, this will be a lot less painful if you relax, Potter," Draco said dryly.

"Malfoy, you—" Harry began, but his voice broke and he tried again. "Your agreement…"

"Spit it out, Potter."

Harry flushed. "Well, you said 'make love' not…"

"Not fuck you into a bloody pulp?" Draco finished.

Harry's blush darkened. "Yeah."

"Don't worry, Potter, I have no intention of hurting you," Draco said quietly and then smiled. "As long as you relax."

Harry tried, but he was ludicrously tense. Draco knew he'd have the devil's time penetrating the Gryffindor; but he wasn't beaten yet. Draco slid down and took Harry's cock in his mouth. It had softened slightly under Potter's onslaught of terror, but Draco's tongue lapped over the head and dove into the slit at the top several times, which quickly took care of that problem.

Harry arched attractively and Draco's breath caught in his throat. Fuck, Potter really was gorgeous. Malfoy wordlessly Accioed his wand. He tongue stroked Harry's shaft twice more and then left the hard member. Potter moaned in frustration. He fingers brushed Malfoy's temples, still wrapped in Draco's hair. Draco placed the tip of his wand against Harry's anal orifice and whispered a spell. Potter heaved a ragged gasp of surprise, but Draco dropped the wand and quickly inserted a finger, then two.

Harry made a guttural sound of protest, but Malfoy was relentless, now. The spell had relaxed Potter's muscles and lubricated him; the Gryffindor was as ready as he would ever be.

Draco removed his fingers and pressed his cock quickly into the vacated opening, nearly moaning in delight at the tight, hot feel of Harry. Draco moved slowly and inexorably at first, watching Harry the while. Potter's eyes were wide and his hands had left Malfoy's hair to grip his shoulders. Draco rammed it home suddenly and had to shut his eyes at the astounding sensation.

Bloody hell, if Potter moved now, Draco would lose it for certain. He took a steadying breath to regain control and then pulled nearly out before thrusting forward again. Potter did move then, arching his back with a ragged intake of breath. Draco repeated the motion.

"Hurt?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Harry muttered through clenched teeth.

"Want me to stop?" Draco murmured and shoved his hips forward in a teasing jab.

"Fuck no," Harry moaned and Draco felt another rush of delight. He began to move in earnest and his thrusts were slower than he would have liked, but Potter was so hot and tight and, God, when he moved his hips like that—Draco struggled to stave off his orgasm. He remembered to grip Harry's erection and rub absently, though he could barely concentrate through the rising tide of passion.

The touch was enough for Harry, who clamped his jaw shut on a scream, which led Draco to wonder what Potter's reaction would be if they were not currently in a castle full of Death Eaters. Harry's violent spasms were too much for Draco, who sank his teeth into Potter's shoulder to suppress his own scream as an incredible climax shook him—for the first time in his life he bloody saw stars. The shudders seemed to go on forever until Draco finally collapsed on Potter's chest. He detached his teeth from Harry's shoulder and buried his face in the Gryffindor's neck. Potter's arm were wrapped around Draco's back and Malfoy held him tightly, basking in the afterglow. Draco always felt lazily content and almost vulnerable after sex. Especially after bloody mind-blowing sex.

Draco noticed he was drawing random, delicate patterns on Harry's ribs and forced himself to stop. He pushed himself up and conjured a warm, wet cloth, which he used to clean them both up with gentle strokes.

He vanished the cloth and sprawled next to Potter, placing his arm possessively over Harry's abdomen. Potter watched him through dreamy green eyes. His black hair was more mussed than usual, and several damp tendrils clung to his forehead, nearly obscuring his scar.

"Why?" Harry asked in a curious tone.

"Why what?"

"Why did you… want me?"

Draco thought about the question. There were so many reasons, all of which would be like handing weapons over to the Gryffindor hero. He settled for his usual sardonic humor.

"Isn't it obvious, Potter? Because you're hot as fuck."

Harry grinned wryly.

"So are you," he admitted, amazing Draco, who never thought the Gryffindor would have divulged that on pain of death. Harry reached down and lifted Draco's arm from his waist. The Dark Mark was clearly visible and Harry traced around the edges of the tattoo with a finger.

"Full Death Eater now, eh?" he asked. Draco said nothing. "You're the only one who could make this look like a fashion statement." Harry touched it suddenly, tensely, as if expecting a jolt. Draco felt him relax slightly and the Gryffindor drew over the Dark Mark again with his fingers.

Harry rolled over suddenly and moved downward, still holding Draco's arm. He leaned his head over the tattoo and pressed his lips against it. Potter traced the design with his tongue, following the snake in a sensual line and sucking lightly on the mouth of the skull. Malfoy's brows rose in astonishment at the erotic gesture.

Harry raised his head and smiled at Draco with a glint of satisfaction in the emerald eyes.

"Now every time you see a Dark Mark, you'll think of me," Potter said roughly. Draco grinned.

"The Dark Lord would be mortified."

A wicked grin curved Harry's lips. "Good."

Draco groaned and impulsively dragged him up for a kiss. Harry did not pull away as their tongues twisted delightfully. Malfoy nibbled on Potter's lips for a moment before releasing him.

"Can it be my third condition was not as horrifying as expected, Potter?"

Harry blushed profusely, but shook his head with a nervous tug at his hair.

"I see now that you were merely distracting me from your second condition," Potter admitted. "You do realize that now I have to protect you from both sides?"

Draco grinned. "No job is too large for the Chosen One. How did you get yourself captured, anyway?"

Potter scowled. "Blatant stupidity. You haven't eaten, have you?"

"Don't change the subject," Draco said, but he levitated the tray over and set it on the edge of the bed. He buttered a piece of nearly dried bread and topped it with jam before taking a bite.

"All right," Harry said with a sigh. "I was taken in London. I had a meeting at the Ministry of Magic and stormed out… in a rage…"

"Typical Potter behavior, then?" Draco mumbled through another bite.

"…Yeah." Harry reached out and dragged his thumb across Draco's upper lip. "Butter." Malfoy grinned as Harry sucked on the thumb briefly, but Draco managed not to kiss him again, wanting the Gryffindor to continue the tale. "Anyway, I left the Ministry in a huff and walked straight into a band of Death Eaters."

"Sent by my father, no doubt."

"Lucius still has connections at the Ministry, apparently."

"I think he has connections everywhere. Your little Gryffindor shadows are likely frantic."

"I'm surprised Hermione hasn't located me by now."

"I'm surprised she hasn't permanently attached a Locator Spell to you."

Harry blinked at him. "Is there such a thing?"

"Want me to put one on you?" Draco offered.

"You sound far too enthusiastic. It hurts, doesn't it?"

"Barely at all," Draco said with a laugh. He Accioed the bottle and spelled out the cork. "Wine?"

Harry shook his head and Draco poured a glass.

"I'm not much of a wine drinker."

"Plebian. This is one grade above swill, anyway," Draco said and whisked the bottle back to the table. He took a sip and grimaced. "Here, try it." He took another mouthful, leaned forward, and deposited it into Potter's mouth with another kiss.

Harry nearly choked for a moment and coughed after swallowing. "You're right. Horrid. What do you think Voldemort will do… if I manage to escape?"

"Still don't trust me?" Draco asked and topped another bit of bread with Havarti and proscuitto. He took another bite, fascinated with the way Potter watched him eat. Draco licked his lower lip slowly and Harry flushed and looked away.

"What's in it for you, Malfoy? If you take me out there right now, you'll be a Death Eater hero."

"I think I'd prefer to have the Chosen One sworn to protect me. My father will save me from the Death Eaters, if necessary, and you will save me from the Order of the Phoenix. Frankly, I don't see a downside." Draco grinned wickedly. "And the fringe benefits are astounding."

Potter's blush deepened. Draco laughed and sucked on his fingers sensually.

"The way you eat… it's obscene," Harry said.

"What do you mean?"

"You practically make love to your food. I can't believe I never noticed before."

"You're blushing, Potter. Are you certain you never noticed before? I thought I saw you watching me during meals at Hogwarts."

"If I did, I would never admit it," Harry snapped.

Draco chuckled. "You want me again, don't you, Potter?"

Harry sighed heavily and threw his arm around Draco's neck to drag him into a kiss. Malfoy decided the food could wait awhile. He removed the tray and happily took Harry Potter back to Dracotopia.

Later, spent once more, Draco wrapped himself around Harry's back and pulled the Gryffindor close. He pressed a kiss into Potter's neck.

"Go to sleep, Golden Boy. I'll wake you when it gets dark."

Though Harry professed not to trust Draco, he dropped off to sleep with astounding swiftness.

Draco led Harry through the darkness to the tallest parapet still standing. Potter wore his invisibility cloak and Draco carried a broom he'd stolen from a random Death Eater. Voldemort had thankfully departed earlier and security was fairly lax, even considering Potter's "escape" and the fact that they half-expected an attack by the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry. Draco and Harry had easily avoided Goyle, who was on bored guard duty, and climbed the treacherous steps to a vantage overlooking the barren Scottish countryside.

"You'll be all right without a wand?" Draco asked quietly, knowing Potter stood beside him, though unseen.

"I'm just glad to have a broom," Harry replied. "Maybe you can keep your eyes open for a chance to get my wand."

Draco knew the exact whereabouts of Potter's wand: locked in an iron box in his father's room. If it disappeared, there would be no doubt a Death Eater had turned traitor. Potter would just have to acquire a new wand.

"If I did that, you would owe me additional favors," Draco said. Potter laughed.

"It's nice to know you are still essentially evil."

"You guessed it, Gryffindor."

Draco's shirt was suddenly grabbed and he was pulled forward into a searing kiss. Draco devoured Harry, knowing it could be goodbye forever if luck frowned upon them. They were both panting a bit when they broke apart.

"Thank you. For everything," Harry said seriously. "I won't forget it."

"Less talk, more flight, Potter," Draco said roughly. The broom disappeared, but for the front section that jutted from the cloak. It rose into the air and hovered for a moment.

"One more thing, Malfoy," Harry's voice called as the bit of broomstick faded into the darkness. Draco paused. "Blatch."

Draco suddenly wondered what the hell he was doing on the parapet in the dark. Sleepwalking? To hell with that—he would lock himself in his room first. As he made his way down the crumbling steps, Draco remembered nothing at all about Harry Potter, except that the Gryffindor had escaped that morning under unusual circumstances.

3 Nervous, Thrice

Draco crept through the undergrowth with his wand held ready. He nearly trampled on Goyle, who had stopped suddenly.

"Damn it, Goyle, what the—?"

Goyle shushed him, which shocked Draco enough that he was actually silent for a moment, luckily, because he heard voices coming from somewhere ahead. Draco strained his ears. Were they fellow Death Eaters, or someone else? It would help if it weren't so bloody foggy. Whose brilliant idea had it been to attack this stupid Muggle railway station in this remote area anyway?

Oh yes, that master of strategy, Voldemort. God, Draco was sick to death of that freak. He sighed and gripped Goyle's arm, recognizing the gruff voice that sounded much closer.

"Goyle, it's Mad-Eye Moody!" he whispered. "The Order of Phoenix is here!"

He pushed Goyle, who tried to move silently to the left, but the lumbering hulk could not have moved silently wearing a mink coat and fuzzy slippers in a padded room full of pillows. Moody barked a sharp command to halt and Draco shoved Goyle hard.

"Run!" he hissed. Goyle bolted, crashing through the brush like a charging rhino. Draco leaped after him, but he hadn't gone six steps before a zing of pain hit his back near his right kidney and he toppled to the damp ground, immobile. Stupid Goyle kept going, not realizing Draco had been hit.

He felt someone pick him up by the scruff of his neck and pluck the wand from his unresponsive hand. Draco glared into Moody's roving eye. Mad-Eye turned and slammed Draco into a nearby tree.

"Someone's been looking for you, boy," Moody said, growling into Draco's face with breath that hinted strongly of sausages washed down with firewhiskey. "Personally, I'd rather eliminate you right here, but orders is orders, damn it all."

Something silvery streaked from Moody's wand and it wasn't long before a cloaked figure approached silently through the mist. The face was hidden, but Draco recognized the voice immediately.

"Thank you, Alastor. I'll take it from here."

Potter.

Moody did not move. Harry sighed beneath the dark hood that completely concealed his face.

"He's immobilized and you've got his wand, which I'll take, by the way." Potter plucked Draco's wand from Moody's hand. "Please make certain we're not interrupted while I… talk to Malfoy." He tucked Draco's wand into a pocket.

Draco would have sneered if he could have moved. Talk. Right. The Gryffindor bastard would like nothing better than to dissect Draco. After all, Draco had been the last one to Crucio Potter before his escape from the Death Eater hideout in Scotland. Harry likely wanted to return the favor.

Moody muttered, but released Draco and strolled off until he was lost in the fog. Potter took Moody's place, holding Draco against the tree with two palms pressed against his chest. Draco wished Potter would push back the hood and reveal his face—he looked like a budding Voldemort shrouded in black.

Harry muttered a spell and suddenly Malfoy could move again, but then he couldn't because Potter was pressed completely against him and—what the fuck?—he was kissing him! Not a light, taunting peck, either, but a full-blown, tonsil-tasting, senses-melting, need-you-right-now sort of kiss. Harry's tongue teased the parts of Draco's mouth that he most enjoyed having teased and Malfoy found himself responding in mortified surprise.

Draco raised his hands to Potter's chest, knowing he should push the Gryffindor away, but…bloody hell that felt good. Harry groaned in what sounded like pure pleasure and Draco felt a raw knife-edge of desire slice through him. His hands clenched against Potter's black robes and Harry finally slowed his assault. He pulled back after several light, sucking kisses on Draco's lips, and shook the hood away from his face.

As soon as Draco's gaze met the half-lidded green eyes, he gasped aloud. The memory block melted away and Draco remembered—fucking hell! So many lost memories! Tormenting Harry in the dungeon; the three-part bargain they had struck; the memory block; Voldemort's interrogation… and crashing over everything, the overwhelming remembrance of Harry Potter writhing in his bed… Draco flipped through the images in shock, trying to reconcile the recollections with the month past, in which he had been loathing Potter with his usual passion.

"Is this some trick?" Draco asked thickly, suddenly doubting his own mind. Harry's hands were still flat on Draco's chest, not gripping to hold him in place, but spread out, like a lover's touch.

"I've been looking for you for a month," Harry said, ignoring the question. "You and the Death Eaters fled the Scottish castle, which you had plenty of time for, since it seemed to take me forever to fly home. I could only hope you were in no danger."

Harry sounded so earnest—Draco began to believe the revealed memories were true. If they were, Potter owed him an Unbreakable Vow. Draco tested the theory. He leaned forward and nuzzled Potter's neck. Draco felt Harry's chest jerk beneath his hands as Potter sucked in a breath.

"Damn you," Harry murmured against Draco's hair. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

Draco inhaled sharply at a sudden ghost of memory that had haunted him for weeks. His Dark Mark—whenever he looked at it, he always had the sensation of a dark head bent over his arm while a liquid tongue traced the tattoo. Now he remembered Harry's words: Every time you see the Dark Mark, you'll think of me." God, it was all true!

Draco shoved Harry back suddenly, angrily. "You bastard! You blocked my memory when you departed that night!"

Harry grinned wryly. "I swore to protect you. The only way to do that after I was gone was to remove your knowledge of those events."

Draco glared, but supposed it made sense from a noble Gryffindor point of view.

"Psssst! Potter, hurry it up—they are returning!" Moody's voice was not far away. Draco wondered if Mad Eye had seen Potter snogging him and decided he didn't care.

"I need you to do something for me," Potter said with a grimace. "Do not do it if it will put you in danger.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "What?"

Harry reached into his robes. "First, take this. You told me about a Locator Spell. We looked it up and Hermione made this for me."

He pulled a long, delicate chain over his head and then slipped it over Draco's. A gold medallion glinted for a moment, dangling from the chain.

"If you are ever in danger, now I will be able to find you."

Draco sneered. "And the Death Eaters, as well. How convenient."

"Don't wear it, then!" Harry snapped. "You're the one who wanted the damned Unbreakable Vow. How the hell can I look after you if I don't know where you are?"

Malfoy scowled and tucked the medallion beneath his robes. He would deal with it later.

"I need my wand," Harry continued seriously. Draco stared at him. Potter went on, "Yes, I have a replacement, of course, but I need that wand. It's linked to Voldemort's wand somehow. I don't think I can kill him without it. Forget that, I bloody well know I can't kill him without it."

Harry Potter's wand was currently locked away in a spelled box in the possession of Lucius Malfoy.

"Somehow, I think my father will notice if it turns up missing."

"Not if you replace it with this," Harry said. He took another wand from his robes. "It's a replica of mine. Hermione and McGonagall made it. Just don't get them mixed up while swapping them."

Before Malfoy could ask, Potter said, "There's a notch—here." Harry grabbed Draco's hand and pressed his fingers against the wand. Draco told himself he did not feel a thrill at the light touch.

"Don't exchange them unless you can do it without getting caught, of course."

Moody stamped up and glared at Draco. Harry's hand was still clasped around Draco's on the wand.

"Let's go, Potter," Moody said gruffly. Moody stalked off and Harry let go. He held up Draco's wand and Malfoy took it along with Potter's replica. Harry sighed.

"All right, then." He roughly grabbed the hood of Draco's cloak and pulled it up over his head. "Try to stay invisible, damn it. That hair of yours is brighter than the moon."

"It blends with the mist, Potter," Draco said dryly, oddly touched. Harry leaned in and kissed him again. Draco relaxed against him and drank in the taste and scent of Potter, still slightly overwhelmed by the strange turn of events.

And then Harry was gone, leaving Draco to lean against the tree in bemusement until Goyle crashed into sight. Malfoy tucked the replica wand away.

"Bloody hell, Draco! I thought you were taken! Let's get out of here—the Order is everywhere!"

Aren't they, though? Draco thought and hurried after Goyle. He had no idea how successful the Death Eaters' mission had been, and he didn't care. His mind was already racing ahead, wondering how to get his hands on Potter's wand—and from there how to get his hands on Potter.

Draco lay in bed with one hand propped behind his head. He dangled the fine gold chain in the air with the other hand and watched the medallion spin lazily.

He should toss the bloody thing. The hell of it was, the medallion was a thing of beauty, obviously custom crafted and very expensive. On the front was a stylized Slytherin S, encircled by a serpent biting its own tail—ouroboros, a symbol of eternity. The serpent's eye was a brilliant emerald.

On the reverse was an inscription. Potter's attempt at humor, he assumed. It read: Remember me. He wondered how Granger had linked a Locator Spell to the medallion. Draco knew how it worked on people—it generally involved something like a tattoo. The Dark Mark was one version, although that was more a Summoner than a Locator. The medallion most likely had the spell etched into the Celtic design around the inscription.

Locator Spell or not, Potter had made no attempt to contact Draco. It had been a week since the revelation of Draco's lost memories. The Death Eaters had been roaming since that time, never staying in one place, and constantly swapping members about.

Draco currently lay in a small room of a Cornish inn, waiting for orders. The others were below, drinking heavily as they tried to forget how much they missed their normal lives, and how much they hated the bastard they now served. Draco stayed in his room and remembered. He decided it had been something of a blessing that Potter had Obliviated his memory. Now that they were available, Draco found himself constantly haunted by recollections of Potter—bound to a marble pillar with Draco's tongue sliding over his skin; Harry clutching his cloak nervously; Harry on the bed, arching beneath him; Harry's hands twisted in Draco's hair; invisible Harry kissing him on the parapet…

Draco groaned, feeling an uncomfortable stirring of ardor. It was hardly fair that Harry Potter had been the best shag of Draco's life. Just thinking about the damned Gryffindor made Malfoy feel warm and slightly feverish.

He cursed and swung his feet off the bed before slipping the chain over his head and tucking the medallion beneath his shirt. Draco shrugged on his robes and scrawled a quick note for Goyle. He grabbed his broom from the wall near the door and pushed open the window. It was nearing ten p.m.; Potter was probably already asleep. Or at least in bed… The image of that drove Draco out the window and into the sky. He flew as high as possible for a bit, until the cold air bit into his lungs and made his fingers ache on the handle of the broom.

He plunged back to earth with frost crystals melting on his lashes and set down in a small clearing next to a tiny, gurgling brook. He took his robes and spread them over a patch of soft-looking grass, intending to sprawl there and look at the gleaming stars. At least, that's what he told himself when he performed the action. Even though he knew better.

Draco fixed the wind damage to his hair with a quick flick of his wand and stood next to the brook for a bit, listening to the bubbling gurgle.

Damn it, Potter had said to call if he was in danger, not climbing the walls with frustrated lust. He swore and pressed his fingers against the medallion, uncertain if it would even work.

Potter, he sent simply. Nothing happened. Draco paced impatiently, wondering if there were a spell or keyword the Gryffindor had neglected to—the nearby crack of Apparition stopped him in his tracks. He pulled his wand out and held it ready as his eyes scanned the trees. Draco saw no one.

Suddenly, a warm body pressed against his back and he felt two hands on his waist. A breathy voice whispered in his ear. "Are you in danger, Malfoy?"

"No," he replied.

"Mortal peril?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Threat of injury?"

"Not recently."

"Angry slurs?"

"No." Draco wasn't sure he liked this new Potter. What had happened to the frightened Gryffindor that had been at Draco's mercy back in Scotland?

"Paper cut?" Harry continued. "A bruise you need me to kiss?"

Draco decided to forgive the sarcasm when Harry accompanied the words with delicate kisses on the side of his neck.

"I could probably come up with a few of those," Draco admitted. The hands left his waist and curled tightly around his torso, sliding up and over his chest.

"Good thing I came, then." Harry said and groaned. "I nearly hoped you would get into trouble just so…"

"I didn't realize I could summon you just by using the medallion," Draco said, which was only semi-true, because he had suspected it would work that way. He had merely been… what? Proving to himself that he didn't need Potter?

"It's linked to mine. You can summon me whenever you like," Harry said, still nuzzling Draco's neck. "What is it you want, anyway?"

"I want to shag you into the ground, Potter. I want to fuck you so hard you'll wake up in China."

Harry groaned as his mouth met Draco's and they came together in a frenzy of bottled passion. Draco turned to face him and slipped his hands beneath the invisibility cloak. Harry wore nothing but jeans and trainers under the cloak.

"Were you asleep?" Draco asked against Harry's mouth.

"No. Just in bed. I couldn't sleep," Harry admitted and sucked at Draco's lips. Potter's hands tugged at Draco's shirt.

"Thinking of me?" Draco asked with his hands at Potter's fly, unzipping.

"Yes," Harry admitted breathily. "Every damned night for weeks." He yanked Draco's shirt off over his head, breaking the kiss for only a moment, and then his hot hands were sliding over Malfoy's back.

"Weeks," Draco breathed. "I'm surprised you did not find yourself a replacement."

He tumbled Harry to the ground atop the robes he'd spread out, landing a bit more sharply than intended, but the thought of Potter with someone else had suddenly caused him to see red.

Harry laughed shortly as Draco roughly dragged the Gryffindor's jeans off.

"There is no replacement for you, Malfoy. You are definitely unique."

Draco tried not to feel relieved at the words. What did he care if Potter shagged everyone in England? He pressed several ardent kissed into Harry's throat, nearly biting with the force of his need. Bright gold glinted on Harry's neck—a twin to the medallion Draco wore.

"Good. Try to remember that you're mine, Potter," Draco said harshly. Harry's legs suddenly twisted into Draco's and the Gryffindor rolled until he lay atop Draco. Potter's hands unfastened Malfoy's trousers and his green eyes bored into Draco.

"I might say the same to you, Malfoy," Harry said. Draco's breath caught in his throat as Potter's hand dragged the remainder of Draco's clothing off. Then Harry's body was stretched over his again and his hands were buried in Draco's hair, caressing the back of his neck while his mouth attacked Draco's.

Malfoy's hands roamed over Harry's bare back and down again to cup Potter's tight arse. Harry's hips rolled forward, pressing his erection against Draco's with a delicious friction. Draco groaned.

"Remember when you did this to me?" Harry asked and levered himself up slightly to slide his tongue over Draco's forehead and kiss a blazing path from temple to jaw. Harry panted hotly in his ear for a moment and took Draco's earlobe in his teeth. Malfoy decided that if he were ever to die by ingestion, he would volunteer Harry Potter for the job, especially when Harry moved to Draco's throat and pressed a line of biting kisses there.

Harry's tongue slid over the chain Draco wore and followed it to the hollow of his throat. He nudged the medallion aside and licked the indentation a few times before sliding downward, kissing a trail down to Draco's navel.

God, don't stop there, Draco thought. Fuck, no wonder Potter had been so agitated in the dungeon when Draco had applied the same torture. Harry raised his head and paused until Draco tipped his head up to look at the Gryffindor.

"Are you waiting for me to beg?" Draco snapped.

"No, just waiting for you to acknowledge that I could make you beg," Harry said with a wicked chuckle.

"God, I hate you," Draco said and instantly changed his mind when Potter licked his cock from top to base with agonizingly slowness, and back up again. Draco made a sound that was mortifyingly un-Malfoylike.

"Are you sureyou hate me?" Harry asked maddeningly. He waited for an answer long enough that Draco was ready to swear he loved Harry, loved Mudbloods, loved Dolores Umbridge, if only Potter would put his mouth back to good use. Draco began to snarl as much when Potter obligingly enveloped the shaft to the hilt. Draco's words cut off with a cry.

He made a mental note never to allow Potter to go a month without sex again—this ruthless aggression was… disturbing. Potter made a sound that was nearly a growl and twisted a hand around Draco's cock while sucking hard on the head and Malfoy changed his mind again, because the new aggressive Potter was oh god, oh hell yes, he was perfect.

Potter continued his amazing pattern of stroking, licking, and sucking; finally he had to use both hands to hold Draco's hips still to keep the Slytherin from thrusting through the back of his throat as he thrashed mindlessly.

Draco's hands clenched on top of Harry's and he murmured words he could barely recall later, but mostly consisted of telling Potter how incredibly, wonderfully, fucking beautiful he was—which would have embarrassed him if he had been at all rational.

Draco came so violently he not only saw stars, but supernovae, and cried out so loudly a flock of birds nesting in a nearby tree took startled flight. When the tremors subsided, Draco felt like a puddle of melted wax and he found himself smiling dreamily into Potter's smug face.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Malfoy," Potter said matter-of-factly. Draco sighed contentedly and realized Potter could have said, "I'm going to peel the flesh from your bones now, Malfoy," and Draco would have thought it was a grand idea.

Harry's wand brushed Draco's anus and Potter muttered a spell that Malfoy had used on him long ago. Draco was immediately loose and moist.

"Been practicing that," Harry muttered.

"Oh whom?" Draco snapped, feeling a flash of emotion slice through the bliss.

"Myself," Potter said. "Got it wrong a few times, which was extraordinarily unpleasant, let me tell you."

Draco laughed unexpectedly, but the sound was choked off and turned into a gasp when Harry's cock slid slowly into Draco's tight orifice. Malfoy's fingers went to Harry's shoulders and dug in. Draco had never… never before allowed anyone to enter him. He made a sound of protest—bloody fucking hell, it did not feel good at all—and Potter froze. Draco took a deep breath and tried to relax, and Harry's voice murmured in his ear as he placed soft, wet kisses on the curve of Draco's throat.

"Malfoy, you're so tight, so hot, so fucking, incredibly gorgeous…"

Harry's voice was hoarse and thrummed with such a sexy timbre that Draco felt his cock twitch in response, even though it couldn't possibly get hard again this soon—

Potter thrust his shaft into Draco, who yelped at the unexpected sensation, but before he could shout at Harry to stop, Potter slid nearly out and rocked forward again and—oh fuck that hurt, but it also sent an incredible sensation flooding through Draco's body and, yes, his cock certainly was getting hard again.

Draco arched his back slightly and used his legs to meet Harry's next thrust. Potter made a whimpering moan that sent a thrill of power coursing through Draco's blood.

"So good, so good, so bloody fucking good," Potter whispered with that hot voice and Draco would have echoed his words except that he could no longer think straight because now Harry was ramming something inside and all Draco could do was rise to meet him and please, God, don't let him stop. His fingers curled—tore—into Harry's shoulders and he felt the need to bite something to keep from screaming as Harry thrust there, there, fuck yes, right there, and then Draco did scream for the second time that night, just as Potter stiffened and cried out his name—not Malfoy, but Draco, which sent an undefined emotion singing through his blood.

Potter collapsed like a dead weight on Draco's chest and his lips pressed gently into Malfoy's neck. Draco's arms slid around Harry's back and held him, uncertain if his limbs would respond if he tried to move.

"Bloody hell, that was worth the wait," Harry muttered. His arms were curled under Draco's shoulders and the Gryffindor's hands cupped Malfoy's head. Harry's thumbs slid over Draco's throat in a light caress. Malfoy couldn't speak. He didn't really want Potter to know it was the most amazing thing he'd ever felt. No need to swell the Gryffindor's head more than it already was.

He did turn his head to take Harry's lips in his again. Because he wanted to; not because Potter had any particular seductive power over him. Harry kissed him back for a long time, until Draco started to fell another stirring in his loins and forced himself to stop. Harry had to be getting cold, lying atop Draco with nothing on. Draco was warm enough with his Potter blanket, but his feet were becoming chilled.

"I should get back," Draco murmured and placed just one more kiss on Harry's soft lips.

"Me too," Harry said and kissed Draco again, nibbling on Malfoy's lower lip and teasing it with his tongue. Draco wished he could breathe normally.

"Aren't you going to ask me where we are?" he asked around another kiss. Draco knew he could stop kissing Potter any time he wanted, but Harry did not seem to have the same self-control.

"No," Harry said and started on Draco's upper lip, which was making it surprisingly hard to concentrate.

"Why not?" he asked breathily.

"You called; I came," Harry said and then giggled. "Literally." Draco felt his own lips twitch in response, though he groaned.

"Aren't you getting cold?" Draco asked and slid his hands over Harry's back. It was cool where the sweat had dried.

"No. You feel good. I could stay here all night," Harry said sleepily. He had stopped kissing, at least, but now buried his head in Draco's neck. Malfoy decided he would have to do something about this odd, affectionate Potter. If only he weren't so damned… attractive like this. Draco sighed and groped for his wand, finally Summoning it when it was not immediately to hand. He conjured a thick blanket and levitated it over Potter, warming them both instantly.

Harry gave a contented sigh and kissed Draco's neck once more, before apparently drifting off to sleep. Draco decided it wouldn't hurt to sleep for a couple of hours, since Potter did not seem inclined to move any time soon, and it was rather nice feeling Harry's warm breath against his throat…

The Death Eater dropped off to sleep with the Savior of the Wizarding World wrapped in his arms.

"Potter, wake up."

Harry was snuggled tightly against Draco; on his side, pressed quite closely against Draco's skin. Harry's head was on Malfoy's shoulder, one arm was flung over Draco's waist, and his legs were intimately wrapped with the Slytherin's.

He never would have guessed Potter to be a snuggler. Nor such a sound sleeper.

"Potter! Wake up." Draco sighed and slid his hand up the Gryffindor's arm, following the curving muscles to Harry's shoulder. Potter's dark hair tickled his chin. Draco's hand left the shoulder and slipped over Harry's smooth back. "Come on, Chosen One," he crooned. "Time to wake up and fight the Dark Lord."

Harry made a sound of protest and his arm tightened on Draco's waist. He murmured something unintelligible against Draco's chest. Malfoy sighed again, but smiled slightly. It was like sleeping with a giant stuffed animal. Very cuddly.

"Potter, if you don't wake up, I'm going to conjure a bucket of very cold water and douse you with it."

The dark head rose at that and Harry blinked at him before a lazy grin split the perfect lips.

"Hi," Potter said pleasantly. Draco wasn't sure whether to kiss him or give him a pinch. The bastard was not supposed to be adorable. He was supposed to be a thorn in Draco's side; bane of the Dark Lord; champion of righteousness. Not this cuddly, sweet, tousled—

"It's about two in the morning. We should probably get back before we're missed," he said, interrupting his own thoughts. Harry heaved a breath.

"I suppose you're right."

Before Draco could reply, Potter levered himself up and planted a kiss on Draco's lips. Malfoy was just beginning to enjoy it when Harry pulled away and climbed out from under the blankets. He Summoned his glasses from wherever they had landed earlier and put them on.

Draco propped his hands behind his head and watched Harry as he dragged his jeans on. He pulled on his shoes before swirling his invisibility cloak around his shoulders. Draco thought Potter would Disapparate, but Harry walked back and launched himself at Draco, sprawling over him on hands and knees.

Harry kissed him lingeringly and Draco felt an unwelcome pang, wondering when he would see Potter again; he mentally kicked himself for the thought. Potter's medallion tapped against his throat for a moment and Draco snagged it in his fingers. Harry pulled back and Draco looked at the medallion, angling it a bit to catch the moonlight. The G was similar to the S on Draco's, but a lion's head had been worked into the design, set with a dark stone for an eye—likely a ruby.

Draco's fingers felt an inscription on the back and he turned it over, but Potter's hand covered his and he pressed a kiss into Draco's knuckles.

"Time to go. I won't distress you by saying anything foolish, except to ask you to be careful," Harry said. He detached Draco's hand from the chain, gave his fingers a squeeze, and lightly touched his lips to Draco's.

And then Potter was gone.

One did not walk into Lucius Malfoy's bedchamber without being invited, even if said bedchamber was currently housed in a tent on the outskirts of nowhere. Draco paced several times before the closed portal and froze when he found his hand dragging through his hair in agitation. Bloody hell, when had he picked up that annoying habit?

The door opened and his father looked at him curiously.

"You look a fright. What is the matter?" Lucius asked.

Draco scowled. "I misplaced my comb. May I borrow yours?"

Lucius stepped aside and gestured elegantly for Draco to enter the sanctum sanctorum. Draco did. The room was impeccable, as was everything about his father, and decorated in dark wood and dark fabric—rich, chocolate brown this time. Only Draco and Narcissa knew that Lucius Malfoy preferred the languid, pastel colors of the Mediterranean—cool aquas and seafoam greens, which was likely why they spent most of their holidays in Greece or the southern Italian coast. Even Lucius Malfoy's facades had facades.

Draco picked up the heavy silver comb from the washstand and dragged it through his hair, giving his reflection a quick glance. Bloody hell, he was starting to look like Potter. He made a mental note to keep his damned hands out of his hair.

His eyes slid to the locked wand case on the nightstand near the bed and his eyes met his father's in the mirror.

"Potter's?" he asked. Lucius nodded. "May I see it?"

"Haven't you seen it before?" Lucius asked as Draco walked to stand before the case. His back was to his father.

Only when it was brandished in my face with a threat behind it, Draco thought dryly. He shrugged as though uninterested. "I suppose."

Even after nearly eighteen years, Lucius was not in the habit of refusing his only son anything. He cast a spell and the case snapped open. Draco stepped forward and picked up the length of holly. It was a thing of beauty, as were all of Ollivander's wands, but had little by way of decoration; rather like Potter, himself.

Draco swished it experimentally. It was a bit suppler than Draco's. He grinned wryly. Also, rather like Potter, himself. With a quick motion, he tucked it into his robe and retrieved the fake, which he dropped into the case with a sigh.

"It doesn't seem so special," he said. Lucius walked forward to stand beside him. Draco hoped his father did not pick up the wand, although it was unlikely he would detect the difference.

"You weren't there. In the graveyard. It's linked, somehow, to the Dark Lord's wand. I'm not sure Potter can defeat him without it." Lucius snapped the case shut and looked at Draco measuringly. Silence stretched between them for a moment, and then Lucius cast the spell that locked the case.

Draco turned and went out, scowling. He hated it when his father expected him to read his mind. Just once it would bloody well be nice if the man would simply speak.

It was another two weeks before Draco had an opportunity to contact Potter again. Voldemort had the Death Eaters Apparating all over the country performing assorted bad deeds in order to keep the Ministry scrambling. Draco thought about warning Potter about the attacks several times, but Lucius seemed to have rediscovered his protective side after an ill-timed explosion at a Muggle warehouse had left Draco with a broken femur and a nasty concussion. The elder Malfoy barely let Draco out of his sight after that; until Lucius was, thankfully, summoned by the Dark Lord one afternoon.

Lucius had barely Disapparated before Draco went outside to speak to Avery.

"I'm going to find some entertainment," he said shortly. Avery looked at him in puzzlement.

"Entertainment?"

"Sex, Avery. I'm in my fucking prime and it's being wasted chumming around with a pack of old, unattractive gents."

"Who you callin' old?" Avery blustered, but he couldn't deny the "unattractive" part. Draco smiled mercilessly. Avery waved him off. "Fine. Best be back before your father returns, though. I ain't takin' the brunt o' his wrath if he finds ye gone because ye needed ter get yer rocks off."

"I'll be back by morning."

"And be—!"

"Yes, yes, I'll be careful. I'm not an idiot." Draco huffed as he walked to a nearby copse of trees and Disapparated. He did not have far to go. They were currently lodging close to the cliffs of Dover—Draco secretly wondered if the Dark Lord intended for them to destroy the white cliffs just to annoy the Muggles and the Ministry. Draco had noticed a tiny cottage nestled into a quaint valley the previous day.

He marched up to the front door and knocked. A grizzled-looking Muggle with a decided lack of teeth flung the door open, and took in Draco's appearance with a suspicious glint in his eye.

Draco cast an Imperius Curse and said, "Take a walk. Go spend the night with some friends or something."

"Got no friends," the man said gruffly. Looking at him, Draco wasn't surprised.

"Then go spend the night in the barn with the sheep. I don't care what you do; just don't come back here before morning."

The Muggle obediently tottered down the walkway and headed for the ramshackle barn that was barely visible from the house. Draco ignored him, satisfied that one little problem had been dispensed with. He went inside.

Luckily, the Muggle was relatively neat, though the place reeked of boiled cabbage. It only took moments for Draco to tidy up the place and make it a bit more livable, after banishing the oppressive odor of cooked vegetables. It was a two-room cottage, with kitchen and living space packed into one room and the bedroom in the other. The bedroom took a bit more work. Draco transfigured the bed, Scourgified it, conjured new bedding, and doused the entire room with the summery scent of sweet woodruff. He smiled wickedly.

He returned to the living area and activated the medallion.

Potter appeared in the space of two heartbeats. He wasn't wearing the invisibility cloak this time, and looked more frazzled than Draco had ever seen him. His green eyes warily took in their surroundings before he visibly relaxed.

Draco commented, "You know, it's rather dangerous for you to just Apparate in that way. Can't you at least think to put the cloak on?"

"I didn't have it with me and I wasn't sure if you were in danger."

"I'm not in danger."

Harry sighed and dragged a hand through his abominably mussed hair. "I can't stay. I'm in the middle of something important."

"You look like you haven't slept in days," Draco said.

"I don't think I have. Your fucking Death Eaters have been running us ragged—I barely have time to breathe, much less search for the damned Ho… Never mind."

"Well, they aren'tmy Death Eaters, at any rate," Draco said icily. The affectionate Potter that had left him a fortnight ago had gone, replaced by a surly, stressed-out, exhausted Potter. A muscle in Harry's jaw tightened and he reached out to drag Draco into an embrace. Malfoy stood stiffly with hands at his sides.

"I know. I'm sorry." He held Draco tightly, as if trying to draw strength from the Slytherin. He nuzzled Draco's neck and Malfoy relented slightly with a sigh. He slid his arms around Harry's back. "I can't stay," Harry repeated.

"All right," Draco said softly, but Potter made no move to go. He clung to Draco. Malfoy moved his hands over Harry's back, massaging the tense muscles. Harry made a small sound of pleasure.

"You smell so good," Harry murmured into Draco's neck, still pressing light kisses there.

"You, too," Draco replied and nipped at Harry's throat before sliding his tongue over the spot. "Pity you can't stay." He pulled back and their mouths met of one accord, harsh with pent-up need. The kiss was greedy, bruising, and demanding. Draco tasted blood for a moment and Harry stepped back sharply. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips and his emerald eyes seemed to burn into Draco. Malfoy's tongue touched the smear of blood on his lower lip.

"Fuck," Harry snapped. "They can live without me for one afternoon." He pulled out his wand and cast a Patronus, barely speaking the words. A silver shape burst from the wand tip and disappeared. Draco smiled almost maliciously.

"That looked easy. What's your happy thought, Potter?"

"You. Naked. Drenched in moonlight," Harry said roughly. Draco barely had time to register the words before Potter stepped forward and slammed his mouth onto Draco's again. Malfoy moaned and Harry's hands—no hesitancy now—tore at the fastenings of Draco's robes.

"Before I forget," Draco said breathlessly, tearing his mouth from Harry's, "I have something for you."

"Yes, god yes, you do," Harry said with his lips hot on Draco's throat.

"No, this," Draco said, fumbling to retrieve Harry's wand from the tangle of Harry's limbs in the way. He pressed the lust-crazed Gryffindor back for a moment and handed him the wand. Harry's eyes widened in amazement. He reached out and took the object.

"You did it."

Draco shrugged. "Piece of cake."

Harry swallowed visibly, still looking somewhat stunned. "I'll never ask you for anything again."

Draco smiled languidly and drawled, "Really? Never is a very long time, Potter." He stepped forward and dragged his own wand over Harry's shirt, watching the buttons disappear one by one. The fabric gaped open and Draco's hand dipped inside to caress Harry's chest with a circular swirl. Harry's eyes unfocused and Draco moved the hand downward while the wand unfastened and unzipped Potter's jeans.

Draco's questing fingers found what they sought, hard—so hard—and trembling as Harry thrust it unthinkingly into Draco's hand. Draco caressed it through the material and vaguely wondered when Potter had given up cotton for silk. Harry's hands rose to clutch blindly at Draco's shoulders. The Gryffindor's eyes slid shut and his head tipped back gorgeously. God, his mouth was beautiful when it was parted slightly to allow those quick panting breaths to pass over his lips.

Draco had been hard before, but now he thought he might bypass granite on the Mohs scale. He halted the stroking movement of his hand and Harry whimpered.

"What was that, Potter?" Draco asked. "Did you want to ask something of me?"

"You are an evil, evil man," Harry whispered, jutting forward to restart the friction.

"The question?" Draco prodded, pulled his hand away slightly. Potter was infinitely stubborn, but definitely no fool.

"Will you fuck me, Draco?" he asked roughly, slanting his eyes open to glare at Draco, who smiled triumphantly.

"Good thing you didn't promise, eh? Never, indeed."

Before Potter could snarl a rejoinder, Draco moved his hand again and Harry could do nothing more than gasp and tighten his grip on Malfoy's shoulders. Draco sank to his knees and pressed his open mouth to the head of Harry's throbbing cock. He blew a long, hot breath through the fabric and Harry reacted as if electrified.

"God—I can't—!"Harry breathed. Draco pulled the silk down and took the head in his mouth—it was too much for Potter, who came immediately, spilling hot fluid onto Draco's tongue. Malfoy stood up and kissed Harry, who recoiled for a moment and then relaxed into the tender bliss of the odd-tasting kiss.

"Bedroom," Draco said after long minutes of snogging. From the dazed look on Potter's face, Draco could have led him straight to the Dark Lord without a fuss.

The bed was comfortable and welcoming and soon creaked in protestation as their bodies writhed together. Draco's lips and tongue marked Harry's body everywhere.

"You're mine," he murmured. "Mine, mine, mine." Harry could only whimper Draco's name.

Later, exquisitely fucked and completely drained, the Chosen One slipped into a sleep so deep Draco had to check and see if Potter was still breathing. Draco dimly wondered if Harry slept at all outside the circle of his arms. A sudden possessive sensation nearly overwhelmed him for a moment. It was both confusing and alarming. Draco smoothed the black hair away from Harry's temple and trailed a finger over the scar revealed.

The sun was setting, spilling the last rays of light over the bed. A glint of gold caught Draco's eye and he moved his hand down to lift Harry's medallion. His thumb slid over the lion for a moment and then he turned it over.

The inscription read, Yours.