Title: Well Of Erised

Disclaimer: J.K.R. gave birth to, nursed, and weaned the Harry Potter crew. She's the one who changed their nappies, not me. But I like babysitting them.

Pairing: Harry/Draco, hints at Ron/Hermione

Rating: M, R, NC-17, whatever. :P Contains graphic sex, so, you know.

Warnings: Boysex. Rimming. Oral. Also contains torture. And swearing. And cheating. Major character death. (Sort of; does killing off Voldie count?)

Summary: An ancient well deep within the Forbidden Forest shows the unacknowledged desires of your heart. It is known as the Well of Erised, or the Well of Truth. What happens when Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy gaze into it? 6th year AU. Harry/Draco slash.

A/N: This was supposed to be a lemon. A one shot. It's still a oneshot, but a one shot that runs 102 pages. *dies* I'm ridiculously proud of it, though. Please review and tell me what you think!

It was written for the Boys' Love Slash Challenge, the Ravishing Romance Competition, and the Longest One-Shot Competition, and the HPFC forum.

Also, I know that no one goes home for the Easter hols at Hogwarts, and that Harry and Ginny's first kiss occurred after a Quidditch victory, but I altered things slightly for the purposes of my story. It's my story; I'm allowed to do that. :P

I hope you all enjoy it! :D

Prompts used for The Boys' Love Challenge:

word: destiny

sentence: This will be the last time.

color: orange

song: Fire - Sleeping With Sirens

spell: Incendio

quote: "I knew it."

setting: 5th floor corridor, evening

object: small black box

mood: apprehensive

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask,
I want to exorcise the demons from your past,
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

Undisclosed Desires - Muse

Sometimes they say this should feel something like fire
'Til it burns you and you can't,
No, you can't remain the same
Stay the same,
Although you know
They say this should feel something like fire

Fire - Sleeping With Sirens

Harry stared at the dot on the Marauder's Map. The small black box he kept it in - which was normally hidden in his trunk - was lying open on the bed while he sat there and stared. His lips curled and his eyes darkened.

"He's up to something," he muttered. "I know it, Ron; I just know it!"

"Mrrrrglph," grunted Ron in what could have been agreement, before he rolled over in his sleep.

Harry's eyes never left the parchment. "What are you doing, Draco Malfoy?" he asked under his breath.

Draco sat in his bed – huddled was more like it. He stared at the wall and rocked to and fro, unaware that his movements were reflected on a piece of parchment on the other side of the castle.

His sixth year was a nightmare.

He couldn't stop thinking about his task.

His bloody impossible, insurmountable task.

He didn't know what to do.

For the first time in his life, he had encountered a problem that couldn't be fixed by making sure his father heard of it; because his father knew all about it and was powerless to help him.

Draco let out a whimper and rocked faster.

Harry let out a frustrated yell and hit the wall with his fist. It remained just that – a wall. Blank, stone, and impassive; utterly insensible to his need to find out what Malfoy was doing.

For the good of wizard-kind, you understand.

Because Malfoy couldn't be up to any good.

Draco leaned against the wall in the Room of Hidden Things. It had been close; Potter had nearly caught him going in. He closed his eyes. He needed a break. For things to just stop. For something to change. For a miracle to save him.

Yeah, right.

All Draco wanted was to escape.

Fat chance.

Draco put his head in his hands and groaned. This was such a mess; such a bloody, buggering mess.

He sank to the ground with a sob, wishing for the carefree days when his worries had been disappointing his father and not beating Potter.

Potter.

Everywhere he went these days, was Potter. Following him, hounding him; dogging his steps, Potter. Potter, Potter, Potter. It was as though Potter was as obsessed with him as he had once been with Potter.

Once upon a time Draco would have done anything for Potter's attention, in any capacity.

Once.

But now? Now Draco's only obsession was keeping himself and his family alive.

No matter what that meant, what sacrifices he had to make.

No matter what task he had been given to do.

No matter how bloody impossible it was to carry it out.

Because failure was unthinkable.

But for the moment, Draco just let himself go and wept.

"Crucio!"

Draco shouted, just as Potter bellowed, "Sectumsempra!" A jet of blue flashed from Potter's wand and Draco saw it coming with just enough time to drop and roll away from the spell. He had no idea what Sectumsempra was; probably nothing too horrible – Potter was a goody-goody Gryffindor, after all – but it was never a smart idea to get hit with unknown spells.

"Crucio!" he screamed again, and this time a green light shot out of his wand and hit Potter, who let out a shriek and dropped to the ground. Draco shook with fright, the enormity of what he'd done washing over him and he turned even paler than normal; he went completely white.

But Potter wasn't screaming, and he wasn't writhing and jumping at the end of Draco's wand; he was gasping, but he was getting back up, and Draco felt hot and cold all over. Aww, what's the matter? Ickle baby Draco too scared to mean it? a taunting voice asked in his head; it was Aunt Bella's voice, and Salazar if that didn't make him shudder.

Draco watching Potter staggering to his feet for a second, then he turned and fled.

He fled through the castle, and he could hear Potter's footsteps behind him, thundering, Potter's voice echoing in the corridors, "Stop! Malfoy, stop! Somebody, stop him!"

Draco ran faster. He fled, right out of the castle. He staggered his way down the steps and looked about frantically for a place to hide. It was no good, because no matter where he went on the castle grounds Potter seemed able to find him. But he needed to get away; he needed to hide, and soon. Potter was coming.

Then his eyes hit on something in the distance, and after a brief moment of indecision, he made up his mind. He gathered what little shaking courage he had, and ran to the Forbidden Forest.

Harry pounded through the castle halls, but he had already lost the Slytherin. He skidded to a stop, and yanked out the map, not caring who saw.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," he hissed, impatiently tapping the parchment with his wand. He pored over the lines as they appeared, scanning for any sign of the dot labelled, "Draco Malfoy".

There.

Running into the Forbidden Forest. Harry would have spared a thought somewhere in the back of his mind to be amused by the fact that Malfoy thought him more frightening than the Forest now, if he hadn't been so angry.

Not today, git, he thought malevolently, and began to run again. He didn't bother switching off the Map. He was sure to need it again soon. He carelessly wiped at the trail of blood running from his mouth, from where he'd hit it when Malfoy's attempt at Crucio had knocked him to the cold tile floor.

Not today. He followed Malfoy out of the castle, and into the dark woods.

Draco wasn't sure how long he'd been running. It felt like hours. It was dark now, so it probably had been hours. He was hopelessly lost, and paranoid that Potter would leap out at him any minute.

Or if not Potter, than some other unspeakable thing that lived in the forest.

Merlin only knew what kind of monsters dwelled here.

He stumbled into a clearing and fell to the dirt, catching himself on his hands and knees, skinning them. He let out a cry and curled himself into the foetal position, sobbing with hurt and fear and anger and tiredness. He wasn't sure how long he lay there. Only that it had been long enough for his sobs to subside, and for sleeping where he lay to sound like a perfectly reasonable idea.

He couldn't go back.

He had to go back.

He hadn't killed Dumbledore yet.

That thought brought on a fresh wave of tears. Merlin! His family's lives were depending on him, and all he could do was lie in the dirt and cry like a kicked crup.

He was just quieting down again when he heard something. In a flash Draco was on his feet again, staggering a little from sheer exhaustion, but he had his wand out and ready and began circling fearfully, trying to determine from which direction the sound had come.

There was a well in front of him; he'd been so exhausted and wrapped up in his own pain before that he hadn't noticed. The basin was smooth marble, and the water rose up nearly to the very edge of the pool. It was crystal clear. A voice broke into his observation.

"Malfoy."

Behind him.

Potter.

Draco closed his eyes and felt the tears threaten to leak out again. He heard the soft tread as Potter's feet moved over the grass towards him.

"You can't run anymore, Malfoy."

Overwhelming hatred welled up inside him because it was true, and because of what he had gone through; was going through all because of the Dark Lord, made that much worse by a certain bedraggled, black-haired, shaggy-haired, green-eyed, speccy git. He felt a hand come down on his shoulder authoritatively, and with a hoarse cry he turned and launched himself at Potter.

In that moment, there wasn't a thought in his mind but Potter.

The two boys hit and scratched and shoved and attempted to get their wands clear to cast some hex or another, but neither was having much success. They staggered back and forth, into the edge of the well and that's when it happened.

Potter was looking down, Draco was just managing to get his wand over Potter's head when Potter let out a low gasp, and before he could help himself he looked down as well. He froze. They stood there, both frozen, staring into the pool. Draco, with one hand in the process of ripping Potter's Gryffindor tie off and the other clutching his wand over Potter's head; Potter, with one hand under Draco's chin in the process of shoving him backwards and the other gripping his wand, out and ready.

In the pool their reflections were also fighting; but it was a very different kind of fighting. For one thing, they were laughing as they shoved each other back and forth. For another, they were both naked.

Draco stared in horrified fascination as his reflection nipped Potter's ear, and Potter's reflection appeared to growl and seized his chin and oh god! They were kissing.

Rough, playful kisses that made both of them giggle and nip at each other and suddenly it was more than that; their kisses grew deeper, fiercer, like some animal need drove them on and it was perfect. It was one of his deepest, darkest wank fantasies come to life and he felt ill at the thought that Potter had seen it; Potter would look at him and somehow know.

Know that Draco had been wanking over thoughts of him, of them, for as long as he'd been wanking.

Potter made a strangled sound in his throat and the spell was broken; Draco released him and pushed him away and staggered backwards, falling over with the force of it. Potter stumbled too, and just like that the image was gone, replaced with nothing but the water's placid, crystalline surface.

"What was that?" Potter asked hoarsely, wide eyed.

Draco said nothing.

Potter turned to him, cheeks pink, not meeting his eyes. "Look, Malfoy, what happened in the bathroom," he said severely. Draco made a keening sound in his throat as everything he'd forgotten rushed back to him. Potter stopped. He ran a hand through his already messy mop of hair.

"Look," he said awkwardly. "We need to talk, Malfoy." Draco shook his head wildly, and Potter huffed.

"We do," he said. "Let's... Let's go back to the castle, yeah?" He held out a hand to help Draco up. Draco stared at it as if it were Nagini.

"You'll never find your way back without me," Potter warned.

"And pray tell, Potter, how will you find your way back?" Draco asked scathingly.

"I've got a map," said Potter.

Draco was quiet. Potter had a map. He didn't. He was lost. Potter wasn't.

Reluctantly, he took Potter's outstretched hand and clambered to his feet. Their eyes met and they stared at one another for a long moment, and something in Potter's eyes made his groin stir in a way it hadn't in a long time. Fear; the threat of imminent death'll do that to a guy.

He felt disappointed when Potter drew his hand away, but dropped it without any hints of what he was feeling. He didn't need Potter to catch on to his obsession. Never mind that all of Slytherin house knew about it; Potter didn't need to know.

"We're going to talk in the morning, Malfoy." Potter's voice broke through the silence of the night. It brooked no argument.

"What makes you think I'll talk to you?" Draco sneered.

"Because I'm going to go to Dumbledore and tell him everything," replied Potter coolly. "And you know he'll want us both in his office to talk about it."

Draco's heart sank. This was exactly what he didn't need.

He ground to a stop.

"No. No, please, Potter," he said, his voice hoarse.

Potter turned and stared at him. "Did you just say please?" He looked dumbfounded. A thousand snarky comebacks rushed through Draco's mind, but he was too desperate to use them.

"Yes, Potter; I said please. I need – I can't talk to Dumbledore, okay? I'd rather not go back to the castle."

Draco wasn't entirely sure how true that was – after all going back to the castle was preferable to being eaten by something in the forest – but he stood firm. He had to find a way out of this. He had to.

Potter shook his head. "I changed my mind," he said.

A disbelieving, desperate hope flared in Draco's chest.

"We're going to talk to Dumbledore as soon as we get back to the castle."

The hope sputtered and died.

Draco fell silent, rooted to the spot, thinking furiously for a way out of the situation. Of what he might say to Dumbledore, how not to get expelled for using an Unforgivable and how to divert any suspicion he had raised.

How to avoid having his parents contacted, and the monster living in their house alerted to his actions.

Potter spoke. "Whatever's happening, Malfoy; whatever you're involved in, you don't have to do it." His voice was low, pained. "We – Dumbledore – can give you protection."

"It's not just me I'm worried about!" shouted Draco, before he could help himself. Potter blinked at him, owlish behind his thick rims. "My family-" His voice broke.

"He can protect your family, too, Malfoy. You know he can do it. All you have to do is trust him."

Something in Potter's voice, Potter's eyes, convinced him that what Potter was offering was real. That there was hope. Slowly, Draco nodded, and began to follow Potter again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Potter smile.

"Well, my boys, what brings you to see me so late?" Dumbledore's eyes shone knowingly.

Draco shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't made up his mind yet. He knew that he had to, and soon. But he just couldn't be sure what the right thing to do was.

Scratch that. He knew what the right thing to do was; he just didn't know if it was the best move for his family or not.

His apprehension was palpable.

He listened while Potter explained his version of events – snorting in the appropriate places – and fell silent as Dumbledore's gaze fixed on him.

"What Harry has told you is true, Draco," he said kindly. "I can and will provide protection, not only for you but for your family as well, should they wish it."

Should they wish it. That was the crux of the matter. What if his parents didn't want Dumbledore's protection? They would have to abandon the Manor, and that was a situation Draco couldn't see his father agreeing to easily.

He swallowed, thinking furiously. He thought of his mother, and how the light had gone out from her eyes, how pale she'd grown over the past months; how lifeless. All because of the Dark Lord. No, his mother would have no objections to leaving the Dark Lord's service.

He thought of his father, how fervently the man followed the Dark Lord. Then he remembered his father bowing and scraping and being reprimanded and shamed, over and over again. How his very situation was caused by the Dark Lord's cruel desire to punish Lucius for failure at the Ministry.

He made up his mind.

Slowly, he rolled back his sleeve and bared his left forearm.

He heard Harry hiss and felt him pull away when he saw the ugly tattoo marring Draco's pale skin. He wanted to cry, but he was a Malfoy and Malfoys do not cry just because the boy of their dreams some speccy git has just found out one more reason to hate them.

Dumbledore's eyes were serious and his face was grave.

"It was a punishment," Draco said quietly, with all the dignity he could muster. "My father was being punished for failing at the Ministry, and his punishment was that I was forced to take the Mark and given an impossible task. If I fail, he kills me and my family."

There was that damn lump again, stuck in his throat and making it hard for him to talk.

Dumbledore nodded. Potter sat back in his seat, staring at Draco. Draco did his best not to look back.

"What task did he give to you, young Draco?" The headmaster's voice was still kindly. There was no malice in it.

Draco swallowed. This was his last chance to try and back out. His chance to lie and try to work both sides at once.

Dumbledore eyed him up and he realised that the old man knew Legilimency. He might not have been using it; but that didn't mean he wouldn't know if Draco lied to him.

"To find a way to let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, sir," he said quietly, and heard Potter gasp. "And… to kill you. Sir." There was that damn lump in his throat and he could feel tears prickling his eyes, and he thought that he couldn't cry; he wouldn't, he wouldn't show such weakness, especially not in front of Potter.

Then Dumbledore looked at him so kindly, and said, "I know you're not a killer, Draco." The dam burst. He started sobbing, and felt such a confusing mixture of shame and relief and self-loathing and fear he could barely understand what he was feeling anymore.

Dumbledore let him cry, and he soon felt a hand on his back, rubbing small, hesitant circles into it. It was Potter. He cried harder.

"Why are you being nice to me?" he asked once he'd calmed down.

Potter looked away. "I just… You've been going through a lot, you know? All this pressure, all these expectations on you over something that seems impossible. And there's no one else who can do it; you have to bear a burden that you didn't ask for or deserve all alone." His cheeks pinked. "I can relate."

Draco was silent for a moment, as the enormity of what Harry was saying washed over him. "You feel like that all the time?" he asked quietly.

Harry laughed bitterly. "Sometimes I wonder how I avoid the Janus Thickey ward."

Draco stared. He'd never once thought of Harry's life like that before. He felt… guilty for having made such a burden that much worse with his silly childish jealousy and revenge.

'I'm sorry," he offered, and Potter's eyes widened in astonishment.

"Merlin," he breathed. "You must have hit your head tonight. Or I did, harder than I thought. I'm not lying concussed on the bathroom floor, am I?" He looked worried for a second, and Draco laughed.

"No, Potter, but don't get used to it. It won't be happening again."

Potter nodded, and grinned at him. Draco started. He'd seen Potter grin before, but never at him. It left a warm, funny feeling inside his chest that he intended to look at and bask in later.

Dumbledore coughed gently, and Draco was vaguely and uneasily reminded of Madam Umbridge and her "hem, hem". The headmaster's eyes twinkled slightly as he said, "There is something you left out from the telling, though; Harry, Draco."

Both boys sat still and gazed at one another then back at him in confusion.

"What did you see in the Well, boys?"

Both boys reddened and looked away. Dumbledore's brows lifted. "I think I have an idea of what Draco may have seen, but what about you, Harry?"

Potter glared at his feet. Draco, realising the interrogation wouldn't end until they admitted what had been in the well, spoke.

"It was us, sir."

Dumbledore's eyes swiveled towards him and his brows rose. "Oh?"

Potter mumbled.

"What was that, Harry?"

"I said, we were kissing, and... stuff." Draco had never seen Potter so red. Draco himself suddenly became fascinated by a piece of lint on the carpet.

Dumbldore's eyebrows shot up even more. "Well that is... unexpected," he understated. "Not only what it showed, but that you both saw the same thing."

"What kind of perverted well is that?" Potter demanded. Draco winced.

"What you saw is undoubtedly the Well of Erised," replied Dumbledore. Potter blanched. Draco racked his brain, but couldn't remember where he'd heard the term. It sounded familiar.

"It is also known as the Well of Truth," continued the headmaster. "But unlike the Mirror of Erised, which shows only the deepest desires of your heart, the Well of Erised shows only the truth of your unexpressed desires; that which you long for but do not acknowledge or give credence to. Only a man who is completely and entirely truthful with himself could look into it and see just himself, as he is. Anyone with unacknowledged and unfulfilled desires will see that which he longs for but dares not accept."

"But that's ridiculous!" Potter burst out. His face was flaming, and his eyes furious. "We hate each other! The whole thing is a joke! I'm not even gay!"

"I'm afraid it's no joke, Harry. The Well is often infuriating to those who gaze into it, but it does not lie. It has been charmed infallibly, and has lasted through the ages. You and Draco appear to want the same thing - each other." He was silent a moment. "I am reminded," he said softly. "Of another pair of boys I once knew." His face was pensive.

"I don't believe it," declared Potter flatly. "Nothing you can say will convince me."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I won't have to. Now that the Well has brought these thoughts to the forefront of your mind, you will not be able to ignore them so easily. Destiny is not easily denied. Now then, boys," he said and his eyes twinkled. "Why don't we all get some rest?"

Potter stormed out of the office in a huff. He was muttering about Wells and shoddy spell work under his breath. Draco followed him out slowly, quickly losing sight of the Gryffindor.

As he lay in his bed that night, he thought over the events of the day and what they might mean. His thoughts kept returning to the Well of Erised. If what Dumbledore said was true, then Potter wanted him; whether he would admit it or not.

Draco smiled to himself.

That night was different from the other nights he'd spent since returning for his sixth year. Finally, he lay in bed with his eyes shut tight, and wanked, reaching his completion with a hoarse cry and feeling the exultation of his orgasm sweep through him as he spilled himself over his hand and onto his stomach. Sated and relaxed, he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It was the best he'd slept in months.

Harry lay back, pulling the blond close to himself. Their kisses were deep, passionate. He felt strong arms encircle him and smiled. He ran his hands over smooth, pale skin, and twined his tongue around the other boy's. The blond groaned into his mouth and he chuckled.

He widened the opening between his thighs, hooking his ankles over the blond's waist and bucking upwards. The blond gasped at the contact, the friction between their groins. Their kiss grew deeper, more frenzied, and the blond fumbled at his zip.

Quickly, sloppily – for they were both reluctant to break the kiss – they managed to shed their clothing. Both moaned at the skin-on-skin contact, grinding together in a frenzy of need.

"Inside me, now," whispered Harry, and the blond didn't need to be told twice. He prepared Harry quickly and thoroughly, and Harry whimpered and cried out during the process.

Finally – finally – the blond lined himself up against Harry's entrance and slipped inside. Harry gasped at the burn, but it faded as the blond stilled, and turned pleasurable as he began to move again. He hit a spot inside Harry that made Harry arch back and cry out, and took care to aim for that spot over and over again. Harry wailed in delirious pleasure, feeling his orgasm build.

As he reached the crescendo of his pleasure, one name slipped from his lips.

"Draco!"

Harry's eyes flew open, and he came awake with a gasp. He lay in bed, heart pounding, feeling the cooling stickiness pooling on his stomach. He whitened in fear, fumbled for his wand, and whispered a shaky cleaning spell before curling on his side and whimpering into the darkness.

"I'm not gay. I'm not. I love Ginny. Ginny; not Malfoy. I'm not gay."

Sleep didn't find him again that night.

Life for Draco had become surreal. Professor Snape, whom he had believed to be a loyal Death Eater, exposed himself to Draco as a member of the Order. It took a great deal of convincing for Draco to believe Snape's true loyalties lay with Dumbledore, but in the end he was – while not entirely convinced – resigned to the fact that it was too late to do anything about it if he wasn't.

At the very least, he took comfort in the Unbreakable Vow Snape had sworn to protect him. He could only hope it would keep his family safe as well.

Dumbledore also called a meeting with Potter, Granger, and the Weasel. He advised the trio about Draco's situation – except for the Dark Mark, which Potter already knew about but obviously was keeping quiet about for reasons of his own – and requested that they do their best to make Draco feel welcome, as he and his family would be joining the Order in just a few short months.

Weasel, of course, objected loud and long.

"But he's Malfoy! He's a slimy git! He's loyal to You-Know-Who! I bet he's Marked!"

Draco sank down in his chair. He didn't want to have to broadcast it to the Weasel that he was Marked.

"So what if he is Marked, Ron?" asked Potter. Draco looked up in shock. Potter hadn't said two words to him since that night by the Well of Erised. He hadn't even so much as looked at Draco.

"He needs protection from Voldemort; we're going to give it. This isn't something to be petty about and hold to school rivalries over."

Draco swallowed around that damn lump that just wouldn't go away no matter what.

He didn't know how to respond.

Why did Potter have to be so bloody nice all of a sudden?

There was more arguing, primarily from the Weasel. Eventually even the Mudblood was on his side – as strange as that felt. Dumbledore finally told the Weasel in a tone that brooked no argument that he was going to have to live with things the way they were. He looked Draco in the eyes and said, "When you need to leave the school, you'll go to number 12, Grimmauld Place, London."

Draco suddenly remembered the ancestral home of the Blacks, his mother's family. "But Aunt Bella knows where that is," he protested, not missing the way Potter tensed when he said, 'Aunt Bella.' He ignored it for now. "She'll be able to find us there."

"Not at all, young man. The house is protected under a Fidelus Charm, and I am the Secret Keeper."

Draco knit his brows in confusion. "But how does that work if the house belongs to the Blacks? Neither my mother or my aunt would have made you Secret Keeper."

Dumbledore smiled. "Harry?"

Potter cleared his throat and spoke. "Sirius Black was my godfather. He left me the house in his will, along with the Black vaults."

Draco started. Potter was wealthier than he'd ever imagined. He'd already heard the Potter vaults were nothing to sneeze at – not that you'd know by the way the git dressed – but the Black vaults as well? Potter was probably richer than the Malfoys, and that was saying something.

He shook his head to clear it, and went back to focusing on the situation at hand – though he couldn't help noticing how Potter watched his hair move as he shook his head, or the way he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. Draco cheered inwardly.

"So, we'll be staying in Potter's house?" he asked, slightly hopeful for his prospects at shagging Potter if they were living under the same roof.

"Don't worry, Malfoy; I can't live there," put in Potter quickly.

"Why not?" Draco turned to look at him in confusion.

"Blood Wards. I have to stay with my aunt and uncle for the summer."

Something in the way he said, "My aunt and uncle" made Draco think of his own Aunt Bella and Uncle Rodolphus. He repressed a shudder.

They talked a little longer, and soon Dumbledore dismissed them, explaining that he would need to attend a meeting with the Order. Draco followed the trio out. On the stairs, Potter asked the other two to go on ahead. They were surprised, but acquiesced. Draco allowed himself a smirk as he realised Potter wanted to talk to him.

"Listen, Malfoy," Potter said sharply. "This is about common human decency; nothing else, so get it out of your head. I don't care what you want, and I don't care what's in that fucked up Well. I don't want you like that and I never will. Got it?"

Draco was stung. He knew Potter wanted him. It was in his body language, in his eyes. It wasn't something Draco could just ignore.

"Listen, Potter, I don't know why you're fighting this so hard. I want you; you want me – why don't we both just take what we want?"

"Because I don't want you, Malfoy," Potter snarled. "I'm in love with Ginny Weasley."

Draco stilled. The Weaselette? Potter wanted the Weaselette? Wasn't she dating Derek or whatever his name was; some Muggle-born in Gryffindor? Or maybe it was Mitchell, the Ravenclaw. Or whoever. He could hardly be expected to keep track of who the Weaselette was spreading her legs for this week.

Unless it was Potter. His Potter.

Draco's eyes narrowed. After years of denial, he had finally admitted to himself what he wanted – only to lose it to a Weasley? No. If Ginny Weasley thought she was getting her hands on his man, she had another think coming. Oh no, you don't, you bitch, he thought. Not my Potter, you don't.

This was war.

He pulled himself back from the edge of anger, and gave Potter a dazzling smile – a smile, not a smirk. And it was dazzling. Draco was gorgeous and he knew it. He knew how incredible his smiles were, when he chose to bestow them. Potter pulled back, looking slightly dazed, pupils blowing wide with desire. Draco leaned in closer, backing him against the wall, and tilted his head so that his breath ghosted over the shell of Potter's ear. Potter let out a shuddering breath like a sob.

"You think you can get away from me, Potter?" he asked in a seductive purr. "Well, let the game begin." He nipped at Potter's ear, then licked it with the tip of his tongue, and the brunet cried out – a cry of pleasure, not pain, Draco was very sure.

Still smiling, he pulled back, turning and heading down the steps ahead of the dazed Gryffindor. Once out of sight he allowed his smile to settle into a smirk.

This was going to be fun.

Draco was called into the headmaster's office once more, to let him know that his parents had been safely extracted from Malfoy Manor. He was given no details, only that they were both alive and safely ensconced within the Black family house.

He would be able to join them for Easter.

In the meanwhile, he began his seduction of Potter. Harry. He wasn't sure when but somewhere along the line Potter stopped being Potter to him and became Harry.

Harry resisted every step of the way, but Draco was fighting dirty. He wore his best fitting robes, found excuses to be near Harry all the time, to brush up against him. He used deliberately suggestive words and phrases whenever he spoke in Harry's hearing. He gave him seductive looks, secret smiles, and fellated his meals whenever he caught Harry watching him eat.

The Gryffindor would always look away, cheeks flaming, but his eyes were inevitably drawn back to Draco again.

He didn't only focus on seduction; he did his best to get to know Harry, and to force Harry to get to know him. Harry was uncooperative, but he did his best and found that he learned more and more about his former rival than ever before. He watched Harry during meals and soon picked up on Harry's favourite foods. He noticed that Harry preferred bright colours; white being a particular favourite.

Draco also realised that the Gryffindor truly was a noble person; self-sacrificing, honourable, trustworthy, and loyal. Harry had to notice the way he sheltered, protected, and guided the younger Slytherins, as well as the respect and loyalty he both commanded and gave to his year-mates.

But seduction was Draco's primary focus.

In double Potions, Draco arched his back and let out a groan as his muscles stretched. He was well aware that his movements showed off his frame, even under the school robes. His groan was erotic, and out of the corner of his eye he watched as Harry stared at him, riveted, tongue flickering out to lick his lips. He smirked.

In the hallway, he "accidentally" bumped into the brunet from behind, brushing his hand to cup Harry's arse lightly, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Harry gasped, and Draco allowed himself a feral grin before turning his angelic, yet seductive smile on the boy. Harry's pupils widened with desire, and a heavenly blush stained his cheeks. Draco gazed at Harry through half-lidded eyes, bedroom eyes, and murmured, "My apologies; I must have been distracted." He gave Harry a wink before continuing on his way.

In DADA, they were paired together and he managed to bind Harry with an Incarcerous. He leaned over the smaller boy and whispered in a voice low enough that no one else could hear, "I can think of a better use for these ropes." Harry's heated cheeks could have boiled water, they were so bright. His lust filled eyes gazed at Draco like a starving man at a feast.

And so it went.

Draco smiled in triumph as he watched Harry's resistance crumble. Yes, this game was fun.

Draco knew Harry could only hold out for so long. He was a red-blooded male, after all, and he wanted Draco. Draco was doing his best to whip that want into a frenzy of need.

Easter holidays finally arrived.

Harry had never been so grateful. He was desperate to get away from the blond; for a reprieve from that demonic, torturous, sexy Slytherin. Oh, there was no denying Draco was sexy. He was sex personified.

And he was Draco now, not Malfoy, though Harry would die before admitting it out loud. He'd stopped being Malfoy somewhere in the last dozen or so times Harry had woken up screaming his name.

Harry needed a distraction. He needed an anchor, something to keep him from losing his head.

Ginny Weasley gave him that.

They were sitting and talking one minute, and while a few months before he would have been ecstatic at the opportunity to be near her when she was newly single, now all he could think of was Draco. The next minute she was snogging him. He jerked back, stunned.

She bit her lip in confusion. "Do you not want this, Harry?" She looked like she was about to cry. "I thought you wanted me. You know I want you."

Harry blinked, trying to clear the Slytherin from his mind. It occurred to him that this was the perfect distraction, the perfect anchor. If he was dating Ginny, all of it would have to go away.

"Yeah, Gin," he swallowed. "I do want it. I want you. You just surprised me, was all."

Ginny smiled at him – such a sweet smile; why couldn't it move him as much as one did from that pointy git? Then she leaned in and kissed him again.

Harry snogged her the best he could, and tried hard not to think of blond hair and grey eyes.

Harry was nervous coming back to Hogwarts. He didn't want to see Draco again.

He couldn't wait to see the blond again.

He was so confused.

But he was Ginny's boyfriend now, and damn if he was going to ruin that. His relationship with the Weasleys would be damaged if he messed that up, and no way was that going to happen.

If only he could get Draco out of his head, and out of his dreams.

If only he could stop thinking of the blond as Draco.

Harry closed his eyes on the train as they rode back, vowing not to think of pointy-faced Slytherins any more than he already had.

It was short lived.

Ginny came over and sat on his lap. Ron and Hermione started chastising her, and she smirked at them. It made Harry's heart ache, as smirking of any kind put him in mind of a certain blond.

She leaned over and started snogging him, and he was vaguely aware of the door to their carriage opening while Ron started in, "Oi! Mate, that's my sister!"

He attempted to look suitably reluctant to push Ginny away, and she pouted. He laughed at her expression, then caught sight of the doorway and his heart froze somewhere in the vicinity of his esophagus.

Draco stood in the doorway. He was staring at Harry, and while his mask was in place – his features perfectly schooled into an expression of lordly disdain – his eyes were raw and bleeding silver. It hit Harry at once, for the first time, that he could hurt Draco by denying him. That he had hurt him.

That he had hurt him worse just now, by being with Ginny.

It made his chest tighten and somehow it all felt rather hard to breathe.

It didn't get any easier when Draco sneered at them, made some cutting remark that Harry couldn't even process, turned, slammed the door closed, and walked away. Harry couldn't look anyone in the eyes for the rest of the train ride. He sat there, holding Ginny's hand, wondering just how he'd managed to fuck things up so badly.

Draco was at a loss. He didn't know what to do or where to go from here. His happiness at having seen his family, and knowing that they were doing alright, acclimating well to their new environment, had been dashed by his discovery of Harry – his Harry – snogging the Weaselette. Then laughing, as though he hadn't just fucking stepped on Draco's fucking heart.

Bastard.

Draco closed his eyes. He didn't know what to do, where to go from here.

Malfoys didn't keep crawling after someone who'd rejected them.

Malfoys didn't get rejected in the first place.

Draco had done both.

He felt so confused. He wanted Harry. He felt like he'd do anything to be with Harry. But he was hurting and he couldn't imagine going through more. Then again, as long as he had these feelings – which, if he was honest with himself, had been just about always and they weren't any more likely to go away quickly now that he'd acknowledged them than they had been before he had admitted to himself they were there – he was going to get hurt. He could either take it as it came, and try to pretend it didn't affect him, or he could fight back.

Fight for Harry.

Put like that, it wasn't really so much of a choice.

He remembered how distraught Harry had looked when he saw Draco, and realised Harry didn't want to hurt him. Which gave him an edge. Because he was hurting, damnit, and if he had to showcase his pain for Harry to leave the Weaselette, so be it. If he was going to damn his pride and humiliate himself, if only before Harry, then he was going to do it to the best of his ability.

It was time for Seduction 2.0.

Draco smiled in a very Slytherin, not-so-nice way.

Draco began his new seduction plans in earnest.

He stopped with the overt seduction attempts, only using ploys that would seem unconscious and unintentional. He feigned innocence and kept Harry from realizing he hadn't given up. Instead, he allowed Harry to see his grief, his suffering. His longing and despair.

He used Harry's guilt against him, and showed the other boy just how much he'd been hurt. Subtle changes to his posture, his facial expressions, and his voice; too subtle for anyone to notice unless they watched him as Harry did, were one step. The other was his eyes. He allowed his eyes to convey everything he could not otherwise say or demonstrate.

He caught Harry's gaze and held it, more times than he could count. Each time, he poured out his pain through his eyes.

He made small, seemingly innocuous remarks that only Harry would understand fully. He watched as the other boy winced, and sorrow filled his eyes. He would look away, miserably, but never broke.

Draco did not enjoy this seduction.

He hated seeing Harry miserable - when had that happened? - and he hated being the cause of Harry's misery. But he hated the thought of Harry with the Weaselette more.

Finally, he'd had enough. He confronted Harry, hoping to draw things to a head. He caught the Gryffindor in an abandoned classroom where he was practicing his spellwork.

"Harry."

His voice was low; soft and filled with longing. Harry stiffened, and didn't turn.

"What do you want, Dra-Malfoy?" He sounded resigned. Draco noted the slip, and rejoiced in it, but said nothing about it.

"To talk."

"We have nothing to talk about."

"I disagree. This... thing, between us... you can't keep pretending that it doesn't exist."

"There is no 'thing', Malfoy." Harry's voice was harsh. "Go find someone else." There was pain in his voice as he spoke those words; bitterness and regret, with a hint of jealousy.

"You don't mean that."

"I do." Harry sounded defeated, tired. Draco longed to rub his back, to soothe his troubles away. "I have a girlfriend now; I have to think of her."

Draco let out a low growl. "What about you? What you want? Doesn't that matter?"

"No."

"Then what about me? What I want; Hades, what I need? Doesn't that matter?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Don't I matter?"

Harry whirled to face him. "Of course you do, Draco! How can you even think-" He cut himself off and stared at the ground, swallowing hard. "But what's done is done."

Draco lost control. He flew into Seduction Plan 3.0 without even having devised it; without having thought about it.

He grabbed Harry's shoulders and slammed him against the wall, grinding into him. Harry gasped. His head was thrown back, exposing his neck to Draco, who attacked it with a vengeance. He nibbled and sucked at Harry's pulse point, and licked his way down to Harry's collarbone, where he nibbled and sucked some more. Harry mewled.

Draco continued to grind against him, and finally pulled back. Harry's pupils were blown so wide his eyes were all but black. Draco had begun to grow hard as he had worked on the other boy, and there was an answering hardness pressing into his hip. He rotated his hips in slow circles, grinding all the while. Harry's eyes fluttered shut and he groaned.

"Don't," he whispered against the shell of Harry's ear, making the brunet shiver and tremble with desire at the vibrations against his sensitive skin. "Tell me." He jutted his hips forward and Harry whimpered. "You don't," another rutting of his hips, and Harry bucked against him in response, "want this," he hissed, and stole Harry's mouth in a bruising kiss.

It was everything and nothing like Draco had thought it would be, kissing Harry. It was rough and demanding; hot and wet and desperate. Harry moaned and Draco slid his tongue into the other boy's mouth, licking the back of his teeth and teasing Harry's tongue with his own.

Their tongues battled for dominance for a while, then they settled into a slow, steady rhythm of devouring one another. Their moans and groans, whimpers and gasps echoed through the abandoned room, hardening their already straining cocks further. The friction between them was so good; Draco didn't want to stop. But he had to.

He pulled away and stepped back. Harry tried to draw him in again, gasping needily, but he resisted. Barely, but he managed to regain his head.

"Don't you see what you're missing?" he hissed. "You can't tell me," he canted his hips forward and his pelvis brushed Harry's, eliciting a whimper from the other boy, "that you don't want this. This," he cupped Harry's erection through his jeans and Harry cried out, "doesn't lie."

He stepped back again, releasing Harry.

"When you finally decide to take what you want, you know how to find me," he said, then turned and walked out of the room.

Harry stared after him, dazed.

Harry was in turmoil.

After his... confrontation? rendezvous? with Draco in the abandoned classroom, his desire for the blond increased dramatically.

Kissing Ginny was nice. She was soft, and sweet. But she wasn't Draco. And her kisses didn't set his body on fire like Draco's had.

His resolve was beginning to crumble.

He thought about the blond constantly; his schoolwork was being negatively impacted. There wasn't a night when he didn't dream about Draco. Just the sight of the blond - Hades, the sound of his voice - was enough to send Harry into a haze of desire, his cock hardening painfully, and his need to relieve himself embarrassed him at times. He never thought of anyone else but Draco when he pleasured himself. He couldn't. However hard he might try, his thoughts invariably returned to the Slytherin.

It all came to a head one evening in an abandoned 5th floor corridor. Harry had sought it out go be alone, to think; to try and decide what he was going to do. He had no way of knowing that it was already occupied - and by the person he most and least wanted to see.

"Draco."

He breathed the word like a prayer. The blond hadn't spoken to or interacted with him since that night in the classroom, and he'd missed the Slytherin terribly. Draco had stiffened, then turned.

"Why are you here?"

Harry shrugged. "Why are any of us here, Draco?" he asked philosophically.

The blond scowled, and Harry repressed a smile.

"I wanted a quiet place to be alone and think. I didn't know you'd be here."

They stood in silence for a moment, Draco looking so edible and gorgeous and- fuck it. Harry's resolve cracked. It cracked rather spectacularly.

With a cry he launched himself at the blond, his lips seeking the other boy's out desperately. He threw the Slytherin up against the wall, pressing into him desperately. Draco let out a cry of surprise, then surrendered eagerly to his onslaught. Their mouths attacked one another, fitting together perfectly, as if they'd been born to do this.

"I knew it," Draco laughed against Harry's mouth. "I fucking knew it!"

Harry silenced him by deepening the kiss. He bit Draco's lip and when the blond gasped in surprise, he slid his tongue between the Slytherin's willing lips. He plundered Draco's mouth with his tongue, licking and nipping and kissing as the blond groaned and whimpered and clutched at him.

He pressed their groins together, grinding and rutting and reveling in the sensation of Draco's growing hardness answering his own. He growled deep in his throat and tore the Slytherin's robes off. He ripped the blond's shirt. Draco gasped, and pulled back momentarily.

"Not here," he rasped.

"No." There was fire in Harry's eyes, beyond anything Draco had ever seen there before, and it made him so hard the pain was excruciating. "I've waited long enough; I won't wait any more," Harry said in that low, seductive voice that went straight to his cock. He moaned, and his head dropped backwards as Harry flicked a quick silencing charm around them, dropped his wand, and attacked Draco once again.

As he tore the Slytherin's shirt off, sending buttons flying, Draco covered his left arm with his hand, shame flooding his features. Harry glanced at his arm and saw part of the Mark there, under Draco's fingers. He pried Draco's hand off the Mark and stared at it. Draco twitched and tried to pull away.

"No," whispered Harry, and locking his gaze with Draco's, leaned forward and kissed the Mark, while keeping eye contact. "This." Kiss. "Thing." Kiss. "Doesn't." Kiss. "Matter. You're more than this, Draco." Kiss. "You're so much more than the claim he tried to place on you." He kissed the Mark once more. "Don't let it define you."

Draco nodded, tears in his eyes, overcome. Harry growled and flung himself at the blond again.

He dipped his head and traced Draco's nipples with his tongue. Draco let out a loud cry; his nipples were sensitive and Harry seemed to know instinctively how much pressure to use; when to use his teeth, when to use his tongue, or his lips. He dropped to his knees, fumbling at the zip on Draco's trousers as the blond threaded his fingers through the brunet locks, dazed and slightly bewildered. He'd expected to have to be the one to take the lead, to teach Harry. It appeared Harry was doing a good enough job figuring things out on his own.

Harry released him from his trousers and yanked down his pants impatiently. He looked up at Draco; hair disheveled, eyes blown wide with desire, cheeks flushed, and lips kiss-swollen. He looked like a god of sex, and Draco was prepared to worship.

Harry had never really looked at another man's cock before. Oh, he'd seen them in the communal showers, but had never really paid attention. It would have been rude. But now he looked his fill, and what he saw made him salivate. Draco's cock was perfect, just like the rest of him. It was long, longer than Harry's by a small margin, and slightly more slender than his. It was dusky pink with a reddening tip, leaking a drop of pearly fluid. It curved slightly to the left. It was beautiful. It had never occurred to Harry that he might like a cock in his mouth before, but he wanted it now. Oh, how he wanted it.

Harry looked Draco straight in the eyes and slowly, deliberately, licked his lips. Draco whimpered, and he grinned. He tilted his head, still making eye contact, and licked a long stripe from root to tip along Draco's cock. Draco let out a hoarse cry and his head hit the wall behind him. Then Harry swallowed him down, and Draco saw stars.

The brunet was one of those lucky people who seem to have no gag reflex. He swallowed Draco to the hilt and enthusiastically sucked and licked and bobbed his head, working the base of the shaft with his fist whenever he raised his head.

He hummed as he moved, and the vibration elicited even more responses from the blond. Harry worked on instinct, and quickly worked out what Draco liked, following the blond's reactions and the noises he made. The noises aroused him painfully, yet they were the most glorious things he'd ever heard. The salty-bitter taste of Draco on his tongue was the most delicious flavour he'd ever tasted, and the sight of the blond above him, whimpering and crying out with his head thrown back; writhing in passion as Harry held him propped against the wall by his hips, was the most beautiful sight he'd ever witnessed.

Draco cried out with abandon now, his eyes closed, unable to keep them open. Harry's lack of gag reflex came in handy here, as Draco bucked his hips, unconsciously fucking the brunet's mouth. Harry let him, humming along the shaft.

Just as Draco began to reach his peak, Harry pulled back, releasing him. Draco cursed in frustration and Harry gazed up at him with those gorgeous, emerald, lust-darkened eyes and said, "I want you to fuck me, Draco. Fuck me, please."

Draco's knees grew weak and he felt he could almost come from the sound of Harry's voice alone, saying those words. "I'm not going to last long," he managed, regretfully.

Harry grinned. "Me neither."

Draco dropped to the floor above Harry and attacked his mouth, biting and licking and claiming the brunet as his. Their teeth clacked and Harry moaned into his mouth as he took charge. He shucked his trousers and pants the rest of the way, stripping off his shoes and socks as he went. Then he fumbled with Harry's clothing, eagerly divesting him of his jumper and his Muggle jeans.

He worshiped the brunet's body with his mouth as he went, licking a nipple, nibbling at the other boy's collarbone, sucking on a sensitive patch of skin. He worked his way down Harry's body with his tongue, pausing at the smaller boy's navel to dip his tongue inside and swirl it around. He adored the taste of Harry's body, slightly salty with sweat and an indefinable flavour of Harry himself.

He all but tore the Gryffindor's shoes and socks off, then finally slid Harry's pants down to view his prize. Harry lay on his back, propped up on his elbows to watch Draco. Harry's cock was a generous size, not quite as long as Draco's, but thicker and darker. It was an angry red colour that nearly purpled at the tip, and precome leaked from it steadily. Draco darted his tongue out to taste it and Harry threw his head back and keened.

Draco worked the pants the rest of the way off, giving little licks to Harry's cock all the while, while the brunet panted and moaned and writhed beneath him. Then he went to spread Harry's legs and the brunet complied, eagerly spreading himself wide before Draco. The blond licked his lips at the wanton sight before him. Harry's dusky pink pucker lay bare to his gaze, and his cock twitched with the knowledge that soon he would be inside it.

Gazing at Harry displaying himself, he suddenly felt an urge to do something he'd never done before. Leaning forward, he pressed a hesitant kiss to Harry's hole. The response Harry gave him was instantaneous. He gasped and arched his back. The taste wasn't bad - strange, but not bad. It tasted like Harry, only muskier.

Encouraged by Harry's reaction, Draco stuck out his tongue and licked between Harry's arse cheeks. Harry cried out, and whimpered as Draco began to lick more enthusiastically. He lifted Harry's legs and licked a long stripe from his tailbone to the underside of his balls. Harry arched up and cursed. Draco chuckled, and began alternating lick with the flat of his tongue to teasing around the brunet's entrance with the tip of his tongue.

Harry began whimpering, gasping and moaning in earnest. Draco continued to tease and torment; a nip here, a suckle there, a kiss, a lick, a dab of the tongue.

Harry writhed, the tip of his cock leaking furiously. He moaned wantonly as the blond tended to him.

Finally, Draco furled his tongue into a point and jabbed it into Harry's hole. Harry arched off the floor and screamed. "Shit, fuck, Merlin, Draco!"

Draco began tonguing him mercilessly and as he writhed, attempting to spread himself wider and shameless canting his hips to grind back towards Draco's talented tongue, he babbled an endless stream of nonsense. He wept under the onslaught as Draco continued to flick his tongue around his pucker, than dive back into it.

Harry keened and his eyes rolled back into his head as he gave himself over to pleasure.

Draco enjoyed what he was doing to the Gryffindor, the way he was breaking him down; making him beg and plead for more.

"Oh, yes, Merlin, Draco, please! Oh, don't stop; Merlin, Draco..." Harry babbled.

Draco hummed and continued. He kept going until his neglected cock was becoming so hard it was physically painful. He pulled away from the blubbering, quivering mass that was Harry, and allowed himself a satisfied smirk at what he had done.

He retrieved his wand from the remains of his clothing, and with a whispered spell conjured some lube.

He coated his fingers as he took up his position again between Harry's legs. Harry moaned. Draco felt unaccountably nervous. His and Blaise's relationship had gone sour rather quickly - that's what happens when your boyfriend likes to sleep with multiple partners; he and Blaise were infinitely better suited as friends - and they hadn't ended up having sex before things fell apart, though it had been a near thing. It wasn't as though there had been a surplus of bent boys at Hogwarts - even in Slytherin, Blaise had been the only one near his age, and he swung both ways. Draco was no stranger to fingering, but this felt different. Because it was leading up to something more, intentionally.

"Draco?" Harry's voice took on a note of concern. "Are you alright?"

Draco shook himself, then smiled down at the worried frown Harry was giving him. "I'm fine."

He leaned forward and kissed the wrinkle in Harry's brow, then pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Harry was having none of that, however, and plunged his tongue into Draco's mouth, twining it around the blond's and snogging him thoroughly. Draco groaned, loving the thought of Harry tasting himself on Draco's tongue. The brunet certainly didn't seem to mind. The sensation of his erection against Harry's was divine, and he frotted just a little against the other boy, who gasped and moved against him in response.

Draco broke away, panting. He rested his forehead against Harry's and drew in a shaky breath. "Sorry. First time jitters," he murmured. Harry let out a confused breath.

"But you-" he fell silent as he made the connection, then began to laugh.

Draco was affronted. "I'll have you know I'm not entirely inexperienced," he snapped.

"Merlin, Draco; that's not it. It's just that I've been so worried that I'm going to seem so inexperienced and clumsy to you. This is a relief." Harry smiled sweetly at him. "Besides, I rather like the idea of having you all to myself."

Draco melted. He relaxed and let Harry kiss him again, more tenderly this time. "Go ahead," murmured Harry. "I'm ready. You won't hurt me. I trust you."

How powerful those words were! Draco kissed him once more, then straightened up. He recoated his fingers in lubricant, and spread Harry's legs wider again, as they had fallen half closed. Harry reached behind and grasped his own thighs, holding them apart. Draco hesitated once more.

"This might be easier on your front."

Harry shook his head. "I don't care. I want to see you."

Draco smiled and eased one finger into the brunet, needing no further urging. Harry let out a soft gasp, but Draco's earlier activities had left him loosened and pliant already, more than enough so for a single finger. Draco knew the gasp had not been one of pain. He plunged his finger in and out, to the knuckle and back again. He deepened his finger, twisting it as he went, enjoying the sensation of Harry taking him, enveloping him in heat.

Harry moaned. He rocked against Draco. "More, please," he begged.

Draco added another finger, sliding both in and out, giving Harry a moment to adjust to the extra intrusion before scissoring them. He wriggled them around inside Harry, searching for his prostate. He found it, and Harry keened as he pressed it. He rolled the little ball of nerves under his fingers and plunged his fingers in and out, striking it repeatedly. Harry cried out and twisted beneath him.

Harry felt so hot and tight inside, and Draco's cock jumped violently at the thought of being encased in the warm, wet channel. He explored inside Harry with his fingers, scissoring and opening him up, readying him for what was to come.

Draco kept that up for a little while, panting as he watched his lover's face contort with pleasure. He waited for Harry to tell him insistently, "More!" before going further. Slowly - for he had no intention of rushing this - he added a third finger.

He continued to plunge his fingers in and out, scissoring, widening Harry. Preparing him for what came next. Harry continued to writhe and moan beneath him; a wanton thing spread for Draco's pleasure. Draco's cock twitched at that notion. Harry's hips canted, finger-fucking himself as Draco pushed into him. It was the single most erotic thing Draco had ever witnessed.

"Draco, please!" cried Harry. "I need you now!"

Draco didn't waste any more time. He withdrew his fingers and slicked his cock before lining it up at Harry's entrance. "Relax," he cautioned, and slowly pushed forward.

As he breached the ring of muscle he gasped at the feeling of being enveloped in hot, tight heat. The pressure on his cock was almost too much, and he paused as much to give himself time to adjust as Harry, who had let out a gasp of his own at the burn.

"You alright, love?" he asked, then winced. Malfoys did not call others "love". But Harry smiled brilliantly at him, and he felt himself melt.

"I'm fine, Draco. Absolutely perfect. You can move. I won't break."

Draco slowly slid further in, groaning at the sensation as Harry's hot channel took him all the way in. He paused again when he was fully sheathed, giving them both a chance to adjust. They panted together, Draco resting his forehead against Harry's once again.

"Oh, Harry," he whispered. "Harry."

After a few moments, Harry shifted his hips, and Draco gasped at the sensation it created around him. "I'm okay now," Harry whispered. "You can move."

No, I can't! Draco wanted to scream. Everything was too much; the sensations too intense, and he was disappointed to realise that it wasn't going to last nearly as long as he wanted. "In a minute," he rasped.

Draco briefly thought of a rendezvous between Professors Snape and McGonagall - and wasn't that the stuff of nightmares - and his arousal was sufficiently dampened that he felt safe moving.

He moved slowly at first, while he tried to set a rhythm and suss out just what Harry liked. Harry moved his hips with each thrust and oh Salazar! It was amazing. He could feel everything, with every thrust, and it was as though every cell and nerve ending he possessed had come screaming to life.

It was fire. It was water. It was everything and it was too much. He was changing his angle, struggling to remain in control, but he didn't know how much longer he would be able to. Then he brushed past Harry's prostate - finally! - and Harry arched back and cried out, cursing and gasping and begging.

"Fuck! Godric, Draco, fuck! Merlin, please, please, Draco, Draco!"

Draco smirked and kept to that angle, now that he'd found it. He sped up his thrusts.

"Harder!" Harry panted. "Faster!" Draco had no problem giving him just what he asked for, and bent the smaller boy almost double as he pounded into him, Harry's screams and cries of pure, unadulterated need and pleasure keening around him.

For Harry, as Draco gave the first tentative licks to his hole, he had gasped as a delectable thrill ran through him. As Draco had continued, that turned to burning need, and aching pleasure. He was sure there was not a sensation on earth so beautiful. When Draco began to tongue him it was all he could do not to come undone; the wicked, wicked tongue flickering in and out of such a sensitive, private part of him set his nerves alight and inflamed his desire for the blond to new heights.

That wriggling, dancing tongue! He ground himself against Draco, crying out and babbling with no clear idea of what he was saying; it could have been gibberish, it could have been declarations of love, or of fealty. He could have worshiped the Slytherin.

On and on it went. Harry's world narrowed down to his cock and his hole, and that devious, delightful, wet little tongue lapping at him. He could have come from that alone. He nearly did, before the blond stopped and Harry sobbed curses at him in frustration. Merlin, he was so close!

Then Draco was readying himself to prepare Harry. He hesitated, and admitted to being a virgin, although not inexperienced. It filled Harry with warmth to know that they would be experiencing this for the first time together.

Draco eased one finger into him, and after the tonging he'd received it didn't hurt at all; it was quite pleasurable. Harry wriggled a bit, enjoying the sensation as Draco plunged the finger in and out. Soon he wanted more, and asked for it. "More, please!"

The second finger stretched him slightly, but the burn was good, and quickly morphed into pleasure. The scissoring fingers opened him up, and he eased his hips up and down lightly as he grew accustomed to the feeling. Draco made him ask before giving him what he wanted, which was more; to be fuller, filled, fulfilled.

Draco touched something inside him, and pleasure beyond his wildest dreams engulfed him. He arched his back and screamed in delight. Draco smirked and repeated the movement. "More!" he begged. "More!"

There was the slight burn again with the third finger, which soon passed, and he keened as he fucked himself on Draco's fingers. He was ready; he could tell. Draco seemed determined to make him beg for everything, but Harry couldn't really mind. He was desperate for more, and demanded it.

Draco's eyes were molten silver, pupils blown wide with desire, as they gazed into Harry's own. His hair was in disarray from Harry's hands, his cheeks flushed. He was so beautiful something inside Harry shattered.

"Draco, please! I need you now!"

Draco's face flushed deeper and his eyes darkened even more. "Relax," he whispered, and pushed inside Harry.

When Draco first entered him, all he could feel was the painful burn. It made him wonder, for a moment, why he had wanted this. Then Draco asked, "You alright, love?" And Harry was.

"I'm fine, Draco. Absolutely perfect. You can move. I won't break." He reassured the blond.

Draco pushed the rest of the way inside, and he couldn't help hissing in pain. Draco gasped as he moved, not stopping until he was balls deep inside of Harry. He stilled, and the painful burn receded. Harry let out a gasp of his own at the feeling of fullness that engulfed him. He felt a thrill of exultation at the notion that he was being claimed, marked.

Draco pressed their foreheads together and breathed his name. "Oh, Harry. Harry." An emotion Harry couldn't name swept over him. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

"I'm okay now," Harry whispered. "You can move."

"In a minute," Draco hissed, his voice sounding strangled. Harry smirked to think that he'd reduced the Slytherin Ice Prince to near-incoherency.

Then Draco began to move. Slowly; cautiously, and Harry wanted more. The titillating thrill that coursed through his body nearly overwhelmed him, and he moaned deeply as he reveled in it. He moved his hips with Draco's, the delicious ache and pleasure flowing through him like lava in his veins.

"Oh, Merlin," he groaned. "Draco."

They rocked together and wave after wave of that strange emotion flooded him. He realized that what they were doing went beyond fucking; they were making love.

It frightened and electrified him.

Then Draco touched that spot again, this time with his fullness, his glorious cock. Harry screamed and writhed.

"Fuck! Godric, Draco, fuck! Merlin, please, please, Draco, Draco!"

He was on fire. He was burning; burning, and nothing could ever put it out. Draco and his movements and the fullness inside him were everything, and still he wanted more.

"Harder!" he panted. "Faster!" He was desperate, consumed with need. He wanted to feel Draco through every inch of himself.

Draco sped up, hefting his legs higher and bending him in a way he had never imagined that he could go. Yet as Draco began to pound against him, hitting that amazing nub inside of him with nearly every stroke, he was lost.

This was everything. It was worth dying for. Voldemort himself could have shown up and Harry wouldn't have been bothered to give him the time of day.

He let himself go completely as he came undone beneath the blond. He sobbed, gasped; he moaned and writhed and begged. He chanted Draco's name like a prayer.

"Draco, Draco, Draco!"

Draco moaned his name in answer, a rising crescendo with his thrusts and their completion building.

"Harry, Harry, Harry!"

This was worship. It was holy, consecrated. It was destiny, pure and simple. Harry was utterly and completely unraveled, exposed. Draco claimed him, marked his very soul.

He screamed as his release took him, his world turning white before spots danced in front of his eyes and blinded him. It was pleasure like he never could have imagined. He spurted long stripes of pearly-white fluid between them, over his stomach and up to his chest.

The sudden tightening of his passage around Draco overwhelmed him; he cried out as his own orgasm took him, following Harry's as he flooded the other boy's channel with his seed. He continued to pump until the last of his come had released inside Harry, and collapsed against his chest. He laid his head against Harry's shoulder and panted. Harry's arms encircled him, clutching him tightly.

"Draco," he breathed. "Draco."

"Harry," he answered softly, and felt the brunet gently kiss his neck. No other words were needed.

They lay together, unmindful of the fact that they were still exposed, in the hall. This was a deserted part of the castle; no one came here. Both were exhausted. A nap seemed like a brilliant idea, and both boys were loath to move.

Neither noticed a pair of black eyes glaring at them. The watcher turned and strode away; finding an alcove he ducked inside. He swiftly reached under his robes and undid his trousers, sliding his hand inside. Angry as he was, he was still incredibly turned on by what he had seen. It had been unbelievably hot. A wave of jealousy and rage swept through him. "It should have been me," he muttered furiously.

He closed his eyes. With a few swift strokes, he brought himself to completion, biting his lip to keep from crying out as he came, leaning against the wall.

He cast a quick cleaning charm, straightening his clothes. Leaving the alcove, the black look returned to his eyes, and he strode away, casting a glare behind himself as he moved.

Harry stirred. There was a weight on his chest. The floor was hard on his back. He moaned and tried to roll over. He couldn't. The weight on his chest moved, and a bleary voice groaned out, "Harry?"

Draco.

The past activities that had led to this position rushed back into his mind, and he flushed. He couldn't believe what had happened. It felt like a dream. It had been utterly amazing, and he found himself unable to regret it.

Nevertheless, he was struck by a wave of guilt.

He was still Ginny's boyfriend.

He had cheated. On his best mate's little sister.

Never mind that all they had done together was some light snogging, and not much of that. Which she had always initiated, and he had been reluctant to participate in.

He was gay. He understood that now, with vivid clarity. And he had given himself to a boy who, only weeks ago, had been his enemy.

Yet he couldn't regret it.

This was Draco; his Draco, he thought possessively. There was no one else on earth he'd rather be with.

He felt guilty for what he'd done to Ginny, and dreaded the inevitable conversation to come, but he felt no regret, and knew he wouldn't ever. This had been perfect.

"Harry?"

He sighed under the weight on top of him as Draco shifted. This was bloody uncomfortable, and his back ached. "You're squishing me," he murmured.

"Oh," replied Draco. "Sorry."

He sat up, straddling Harry's hips, and Harry felt his cock twitch with interest. He felt himself blushing as Draco smirked.

"Well, well, we are horny, aren't we?" Draco teased. Harry's flush deepened. "Not that I object; but I do think we should relocate." Draco was still smirking.

Harry wriggled a bit, and realized Draco was half-hard as well. Blood rushed to his cock with that tidbit of knowledge. He groaned. There was still a half-dried, sticky mess between them, on his stomach and chest, and pooling from his arse.

"Where's my wand?" he asked, yawning. He gestured to the mess and Draco picked up his wand and muttered a cleaning spell at the both of them. The goop disappeared, and Harry stretched, arching his back. The movement pressed his groin against Draco's, and the blond gasped.

"Harry," he warned. "You'd better stop unless you're ready for round two."

"Maybe I am." Harry grinned at him. He repeated the stretching motion, and was rewarded by Draco letting out a small whimper.

"Let's find a classroom," he said, breathing just a little heavier than normal.

"Yesssss," hissed Harry. Parseltongue took over for a moment, surprising them both.

"Fuck, Harry," whispered Draco. "That is so hot."

Harry smirked. "I want you," he hissed. "I always want you. Always have; always will." In that moment, he realised it was true. Part of him had always wanted Draco; craved him. It was why the other boy had always been able to get through his skin. "It's why you could always get to me like no one else could," he hissed again.

"Merlin, Harry," Draco groaned. "You are so fucking sexy. I love it when you do that. It always makes me so hot."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "When else have you heard me speak Parseltongue?"

"Second year, during our duel. That night was the first time I wanked," Draco admitted.

A thrill ran through Harry. Not only had Draco wanked over him; he had done it for his first time. He felt a surge of pride and ownership.

Draco rocked against him lightly, and Harry moaned. "I want you. I don't think I'll ever get tired of wanting you, wanting this." He switched back to English. "Let's go find a classroom," he purred.

"Yes," gasped Draco. "Let's."

He caught Harry's lips in a passionate kiss, and Harry moaned out his name.

"Draco..."

"I'm telling you; I saw it."

The dark-haired boy glowered.

"I still don't believe you."

The redhead tossed her hair, which looked almost orange in the torchlight, her feet apart, hands planted firmly on her hips. Her eyes snapped with fire, and the boy felt himself responding to it, drawn to it. He shook his head, filing away the thought of her directing that fire at him in the bedroom for later. Right now his thoughts were focused on a certain blond.

"If you don't believe me, come see for yourself. I bet they're still there. I'll show you."

"Blaise Zabini, give me one good reason why I should go with you."

"Ginny Weasley," he mocked back. "Because your boyfriend is cheating on you and I have proof. And whether you believe me or not, you'd be a fool not to at least check my proof."

Ginny huffed, but she conceded the point. What could it hurt? "Harry would never cheat on me," she said confidently. "He's too noble; too loyal. And he's not interested in boys. Even if he was, the last person he'd want is Draco Malfoy. So there's no way."

Blaise shook his head. "I'm only telling you what I saw."

"What you saw was probably the two of them fighting, wrestling each other to the ground."

"Oh yes," drawled Blaise, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And they just happened to be naked and crying out to Merlin; moaning each other's names. First names," he added.

Ginny tossed her head again and snorted. She seemed to be unaffected by his words, but there was a seed of doubt in her mind. Every time they snogged, she had to initiate it. And his heart never seemed to be in it. She told herself it was just his inexperience, but what if it was more? One thing was certain though; he'd never, never go for Malfoy. So it had to be a lie.

The two boys were grunting and moaning and panting together. One was lying on the desk, legs spread wide. The other was standing between his legs, snapping his hips back and forth as he thrust into the brunet.

"Oh, yes... Right there... Yes, yes... Merlin, Draco... Yesssssss..." the smaller boy chanted before slipping into Parseltongue.

He let out a litany of curses in the language of snakes.

"Fuck, Harry; so hot!" the blond panted. He groaned as the Parseltongue continued. "Oh, Merlin, Harry..." His thrusts sped up, became more erratic.

Blaise stood in the empty corridor, Ginny behind him. He glanced around and spotted a classroom door ahead. He smirked. "Come on," he gestured. "Keep quiet." He moved towards the classroom door.

Ginny rolled her eyes and followed.

Blaise cast a silencing charm at the door, then set about disabling the locking spells on it. He knew all of Draco's privacy spells, and found it relatively simple to dismantle them. He cast a disillusionment charm on himself and Ginny, and cautiously opened the door.

They entered silently, and Ginny froze. She stood rooted to the spot, and went white.

There was a naked boy lying on the teacher's desk, legs spread wide. His face was obscured from her standpoint, but that wasn't what held her attention.

Draco Malfoy, also nude, was standing in between the boy's legs, with them up on his shoulders. He was thrusting in and out of the other boy roughly, and the boy on the desk keened.

He was babbling, gasping and pleading.

"Oh, yes... Right there... Oh, Merlin, yes, Draco... Don't stop...yes, yes, Draco!"

His fist pumped his cock in time with Draco's thrusts, and his gasps indicated he was at the edge. His hips bucked in time with the blond as well, increasing the harshness of their coupling.

Draco was grunting and moaning, and his movements became erratic. With a final, violent thrust, he threw his head back and cried out.

"Harry!"

The boy on the desk arched his back and let out a sound that was half-scream, half-sob. He came violently, spraying his release over his stomach all the way up to his chest.

Draco was obviously experiencing his own orgasm, from the way his hips jerked as he gasped, head still thrown back, eyes tightly shut.

He rested his body against the desk, holding himself up with shaking arms.

"Draco. Oh, Merlin; fuck, Draco."

The boy on the desk moaned.

Draco bent down and caught his lips in a passionate kiss. They kissed eagerly, desperately. Then Draco attacked the boy's neck, sucking and licking and biting; claiming him and marking him. He mewled. He turned his head to the side, eyes screwed shut as he gasped and panted.

The glasses were missing, but there was no mistaking the face of Harry Potter.

There was no mistaking that scar.

Ginny unfroze. She found her voice and began to shriek. With a word she disabled the silencing spell and stepped forward.

"Bastard!" she screamed. "You fucking, unbelievable, lying, cheating piece of shit!"

Both boys looked at her, startled. Harry went pale.

Draco moved off of Harry, but slipped to the other side of the desk and wrapped his arms around Harry possessively. Harry struggled into a seating position, moving to try and cover his bits.

"Ginny," he said in a pleading tone. "I was going to tell you-"

"I don't care!" she screamed. "Tell me what? That you were going behind my back and having sex with Malfoy?! You didn't tell me, and you cheated on me! You worthless scum!" She was sobbing now, pain etched on her face.

"Gin, I'm sor-"

"Oh, you looked sorry alright!" she screamed. "Draco. Oh, Merlin, fuck, Draco!" she mocked. "Yeah, you were so very fucking sorry!"

Harry looked ashamed. "Gin, I never wanted to hurt you."

"Well you did a good fucking job of it, Harry James Potter," she said bitterly. "I can't believe I thought you had honour and integrity."

Her eyes fell on Draco's arm, where the Mark was displayed. Her eyes widened. "He's a fucking Death Eater, Harry!" she whispered. "A Death Eater, for Merlin's sake!"

"I know," Harry said calmly. "He threw it away and gave that up. I don't care about the Mark."

Ginny's mouth dropped open in shock.

She turned and stormed out. She tossed back over her shoulder, "This will be the last time I let you make a fool out of me. We're through!"

Blaise stayed, smirking at Draco. "You wouldn't give it up to me after a month of dating; and then you go and sleep with a guy who has a girlfriend? What a fucking slut you are, Draco," he hissed.

Harry tensed.

Draco felt it and his eyes narrowed.

"Fuck you, Blaise. I never wanted you; you were nothing but stress relief. You're the fucking slut, not me."

"Just wait until the rest of the school finds out," Blaise warned, glaring as he turned and left, slamming the door behind himself.

Harry and Draco stayed where they were in silence and shock. Harry dropped his head and buried his face in his hands, feeling waves of shame roll over him. Draco rubbed small circles into his back and made comforting noises, but he hardly noticed. His thoughts were with a redheaded girl and the pain he'd been desperate to avoid causing her.

Harry dressed slowly. Neither he nor Draco spoke. He felt completely lost; devastated. He was engulfed in shame and confusion.

Yet he couldn't regret what had happened between him and Draco. It was too precious; sacred.

But it had been tainted by Ginny's unexpected arrival.

The emotions whirling through him nearly left him dizzy in their complexity.

Draco finished dressing, and walked over to him as he buttoned up his jeans. He laid a tentative hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry," he said softly. "I know you regret this right now-"

"No," cut in Harry. "I can't. I regret that I didn't break up with Ginny first, and that she found out the way she did; but I can't regret what we shared. It was too special, too... right."

Draco smiled softly. "Do you mean that?" he breathed.

"I do," whispered Harry. He turned to face Draco. "I mean it with my whole heart." Green eyes met grey, and something passed between them, indefinable and sweet.

"Be with me, Harry," said Draco, still speaking softly. There was tenderness in his stormy eyes, a look Harry had never seen on him before but thought he could get addicted to quickly. "Be mine."

"I am yours," Harry whispered, and kissed Draco softly. "Always."

The blond kissed him back fiercely, joyfully, possessively. "Mine," he growled against Harry's lips.

"Yours," Harry agreed.

The fallout wasn't pretty. Blaise wasted no time spreading the story amongst the Slytherins, and Ginny had a rather spectacular meltdown in the Gryffindor common room that was witnessed by many people, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil amongst them. The girls wasted no time spreading the gossip to the other houses.

Ron was livid. The first time he saw Harry after finding out, he punched him in the face. It sent Harry reeling and he fell backwards, slamming his head on the door-frame to the dorm. He felt dizzy and disoriented, but Ron advanced on him without mercy.

"You fucking disgusting animal!" he growled at Harry. "Couldn't keep it in your pants? Had to go boff Malfoy? Fucking Malfoy?!" He gave Harry a cold look. "I can't stand the sight of you," he hissed. "You made my baby sister cry, for Merlin's sake! You broke her heart and used her and fucking trampled her feelings! She fucking loved you and you treated her like she was nothing!"

He leaned over and spat on Harry.

"Find a new best mate," he said icily. "If you can." He walked out of the dorms without a backward glance.

The bullying was awful. The teasing and mocking reminded Harry of fifth year. If that wasn't bad enough, Rita Skeeter got wind of the situation, and the Daily Prophet began printing stories about them, with opinions ranging from Harry being under the influence of the Imperius Curse, to a love potion, to Harry having secretly joined You-Know-Who.

Harry was alternately treated with disdain, pity, and disgust.

No one felt that it was none of their business. No one could help butting in with their opinions and insisting that Harry listen to "reason".

Harry wanted to scream from the frustration of it all.

He made several trips to the Hospital Wing, as he was getting hexed and hit frequently. It was one of the few times he could see Draco without interference.

He soon realised he didn't mind getting hexed so much if it meant he could go to the Hospital Wing at the same time as his boyfriend. Although he excelled in defense, there were often too many attackers for him to defend himself adequately. And knowing Draco might be in the Hospital Wing tended to sap his will to fight back.

The fact that Draco was Marked was trumpeted in every article, in every publication. The students treated him alternately with fear and loathing. He was hexed and beaten up more times than he could count. While he would stand up for himself and do fairly well, he was always outnumbered and at a disadvantage.

He saw a lot of the Hospital Wing.

He was treated with disdain by many of his fellow Slytherins: most of the seventh years, Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass, and many of the younger years as well. And of course, by Blaise.

Pansy, Vince, and Greg rallied around him, but most of his house was utterly against him for his treachery to the Dark Lord, after having been given the honour of the Mark, and for his relationship with the Boy-Who-Lived.

Draco had to learn new, more powerful locking spells to charm his curtains when he went to sleep.

It was difficult to meet Harry these days. Difficult to find a place to be alone, and difficult to get a chance to speak with him.

He missed Harry; ached for him. The other students - from all four houses - did their best to keep the two apart. They seemed secure in the idea that time apart would break up the Saviour and the Death Eater.

It was depressing, to say the least. Draco was haunted by the fear that their ploy would work, and he would lose Harry. It was also extremely frustrating. His reputation was in tatters, as was his standing in Slytherin house. He kept to his facade of the cold, icy Slytherin Prince, but it was difficult when he was getting hexed and mocked at every turn.

He was intimately acquainted with the Hospital Wing after a week. His only source of comfort was that Harry often joined him in there. While they were both resting after being healed, they would creep into one another's beds, cuddling and exchanging kisses.

Once when they both had to spend the night they frotted against each other to completion; it was satisfying, but they both wanted more. They simply didn't dare in the Hospital Wing, knowing Madam Pomfrey was nearby.

They still saw very little of each other. Harry became despondent, not eating or sleeping well, and retreating into himself for long periods at a time. Neville tried to bring him out of it with little success.

He was one of the sole Gryffindors to remain Harry's friend - the others being Seamus and Dean, and to a small degree, Hermione. She was usually with Ron, but would occasionally speak to him. She made it clear that she was furious with him, but that she would stay his friend, and in time would get past what he had done. Luna stood by him, an unwavering friend, and he loved her for it.

Harry was sitting on his bunk with the curtains closed so that Ron wouldn't be tempted to hex him if he came in. His heart ached thinking about his friend, but he knew Ron and his temper, his ability to hold a grudge. He could only hope that eventually Ron would cool down and forgive him.

He doodled absently on the parchment that was supposed to be for his Charms essay. He sighed as he realised he'd drawn a likeness of Draco.

He added a caricature of himself, then charmed the two figures to kiss. He watched ink-Harry and ink-Draco snog with a sad smile. Then he had a sudden flash of inspiration. He slipped on his invisibility cloak - he'd tried using it to go see Draco but rarely managed to get past the blockade of fanatical students surrounding him, though it helped Harry escape his own band of zealots when he needed to – and slipped out of bed and the dorm. He managed to follow a third year out of the portrait hole, and made for the Owlry.

Once there, he slipped off the cloak and spread the parchment out on the ledge. He prepared to write above the drawing.

Draco, he wrote. He paused, chewing on the end of his quill. What to write? The truth, he decided.

Draco,

You're an insufferable git, you know.

I can't get you out of my head.

I worry about you. How are you holding up?

I think about you all the time.

Miss you,

Harry

He paused, wondering if the letter was too sappy. He decided he didn't care. He gave the letter to Hedwig, who nipped him reprimandingly for not having been around much lately.

"Sorry, girl," he murmured, stroking her feathers. "This is hard on all of us."

He addressed the letter to Draco, and gave Hedwig instructions to deliver it at suppertime. He spent a little while chatting with her, having missed her company. Finally he resigned himself to finishing that Charms essay.

He wondered what Draco would think of the note.

He smiled as he put his cloak back on and left.

At supper he watched the Slytherin table, as usual. There was Draco, looking regal as ever, not a hair out of place. He longed to run his fingers through it again, and mess it up. His hands twitched, under the table.

Draco saw him and nodded politely. In public he was every inch the Malfoy, Harry thought. He reveled in the knowledge that the privilege of watching Draco come undone was his alone.

He watched as Hedwig swooped in gracefully, and landed in front of Draco. The blond arched an eyebrow in surprise as she held out her leg.

Draco took the proffered letter, and calmly opened it after slipping Hedwig some of the food on his plate. Harry could see him trying not to smile. He kept his features carefully schooled, but Harry could see the happiness shining in his eyes from across the room.

At breakfast, he was settling in for another bout of Draco-watching, when the Slytherin met his eyes and smirked. Harry lifted an eyebrow but didn't understand until the post came in.

A majestic eagle owl swooped down in front of him, and held out its leg disdainfully. Harry's heartbeat quickened. He took the letter and offered the owl some bacon. It ate primly, haughtily. He opened the letter.

Inside was a gorgeous drawing of Draco lying semi-nude, reclining on a bed. He beckoned enticingly. Harry's mouth went dry.

Oh revered obnoxious prat, it read.

I'm doing fine. I'm a Malfoy, and we always find a way to survive.

I'm more concerned about you. How are you holding up?

What do you occupy your time with?

I've taken up drawing, as you can see, and Pansy's gotten me into these awful Muggle books she likes.

Are you enjoying the weather? Spring is probably my favourite season.

Have you ever noticed how the air smells in the spring?

You take a breath, and you're breathing in the scent of life.

Everything's so bright and vibrant. So insurmountable. It invigorates me to the tips of my toes.

Bah, here I am waxing poetical about spring, of all things.

Merlin, Potter, you're turning me into a bloody Hufflepuff!

I think about you too, git.

You're in my head, buzzing around like a fly I can't swat no matter how hard I try.

Bugging the hell out of me, but there.

Always there.

I miss you too, you pillock.

Draco

Harry smiled, warmed to the depths of his heart.

He ignored the looks he was getting, and folded the letter, tucking it into his robes for safekeeping.

Over the next two weeks, he and Draco exchanged letters daily, sometimes multiple times a day. Draco was snarky and sarcastic, sometimes almost mean. Almost. But other times he was sentimental and sweet. He was thoughtful and imaginative. He had a unique and cranky way of expressing himself that made Harry laugh.

Harry was falling in love.

Harry had never been in love before, not really. He was undeniably happy these days, even though he rarely interacted with Draco. The letters let him in to part of Draco's soul, and it was beautiful. There were dark sides to Draco, he knew. But there was also a childlike innocence to parts of him that made Harry's heart ache with happiness.

Draco had such amazing self-control. No matter what he went through, no matter what happened to him, he endured it with pride and dignity. Harry couldn't help admiring him.

And apparently, neither could the other Slytherins. They thawed towards him, gradually accepting him back as the leader he was born to be.

However the happiness was not meant to last.

Voldemort had a price on Draco's head. The only person he wanted captured more than Draco was Harry himself. It was just a matter of time before someone tried to collect.

The day started out like any other. Harry got up and penned a few more lines in the letter to Draco he'd started the night before, showered, dressed, and stopped at the Owlry on his way to the Great Hall. Okay, so it was far out if his way, but it was worth it. He couldn't wait for the smile in those molten silver eyes, or for Draco's response at noon.

He went to breakfast, and as he loaded his plate, he and Draco locked eyes across the room. He smiled, and Draco's eyes softened, as he afforded Harry a regal nod. Harry smiled wider as he watched Draco hold court amongst the Slytherins, until Neville asked him a question and he got caught up conversing with his friends.

Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Luna – who abandoned her table in favour of sitting near Harry. Hermione even gave him small smiles from across the table, where she sat next to Ron, always apart from the others.

Everything was going well, until the post came in. Harry looked up, eager as always to see Draco's reaction to his letter. He watched as Draco received three envelopes. Draco opened Harry's first, which delighted him. That soft smile in his eyes made Harry's heart skip a beat, and think for a moment that he was not the only one falling in this relationship,

Then he moved on to the next. Judging by the eagle owl who had delivered it, and the rich quality of the paper, Harry suspected it came from Draco's parents. They wrote each other once a week.

Finally Draco turned his attention to the last envelope. He cast the usual spells to check for hexes, and finding none, opened it. He slid something small and round out, into the palm of his hand. It glittered in the light, and Harry realised it was jewellery of some kind. A stab of jealousy ran through him at the thought of someone else sending his Draco jewellery.

Draco seemed pleased with it, and held it out for the other Slytherins to admire. They all appeared to be suitably impressed. Draco lifted his eyes and they met Harry's for one brief moment, then there was the sound of a Portkey activating, and Draco disappeared.

The bottom dropped out of Harry's world.

There was a rushing in Harry's ears as he fought to control himself. Dishes and silverware rattled around him, yet he barely noticed. Draco was gone. Draco. Gone. Kidnapped.

Voldemort.

No sooner did the name cross Harry's mind, but his scar ripped into him with searing fire.

He stood loftily on a stone dais, waiting and watching eagerly as his captive was brought before him. Two Death Eaters appeared, dragging a limp form between them. They chained the pale body to a post in the middle of the room, and snapped on a collar that would prevent the use of magic. Harry felt bile rise within him.

Harry felt a thrill of exaltation run through him. He raised his wand and pointed it at his prisoner.

"Enervate."

The prisoner came awake with a jolt. He raised his head defiantly and mercurial eyes flashed as he gazed at his captor. Draco Malfoy stared down the Dark Lord as if he had no fear. A wave of terror swept through Harry.

He felt himself smile, as he lifted the wand again and intoned, "Crucio."

Draco began to writhe and contort and shriek, and Harry was sick to his stomach, even as he laughed in glee.

Harry came back to himself with a jolt, and he realised he was lying on the floor, soaked in sweat and his face coated in tears. He tried to speak but his voice was hoarse.

"Voldemort," he croaked out. "He has him. He has Draco."

He lifted his teary eyes to Snape in desperation. "We have to save him," he begged. He knew that Snape was a father-figure for Draco, and had taken an Unbreakable Vow to protect him. Snape had to save Draco. He had no choice.

And Harry would help.

It was Draco; his Draco that was in pain, in danger. He wouldn't be left behind.

He locked eyes with the Potions master, who gave him a grim, almost imperceptible nod. A wave of relief coursed through him. He had an ally.

Pain.

Draco's world was pain.

It ripped through him, tearing him open, shredding his soul and leaving it raw and bleeding. It eviscerated him and left his guts in a cooling pile beside his useless body.

It pierced his very core and shattered his very being into a million tiny Draco-bits of pain. It demolished and crushed and broke him.

It burned through him like fire, lava that ignited him and consumed his world. It combusted his sense of self and cauterised his Id. It cooked him raw.

Draco's very existence was pain.

Pain.

It had lasted hours.

It had lasted a lifetime.

It had lasted an eternity.

He felt himself teeter on the edge of madness.

It would be so easy, just to give in and lose control. To fall over that edge, into the blessed relief of oblivion as his mind went somewhere far, far away; to a place where there was no pain; no more.

To lose himself completely.

One thing held him back; one voice, one image etched in his mind.

Harry.

He needed to stay sane for Harry.

He could scarcely remember why it mattered; only that it did.

Harry. His Harry.

His beautiful, wonderful, stupid Gryffindor.

The man he loved.

He would hold on. He would endure the pain, because he had to.

For Harry.

Harry wanted to scream in frustration.

A meeting of the Order had been called, and the Golden Trio were brought in on it. They were all crowded into Dumbledore's office. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George wouldn't look at Harry and that stung. Ron still wasn't speaking to him, but Hermione hugged him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered. He understood that she was not talking about needing time. She was talking about Draco. He smiled tightly at her and squeezed her hand.

"Thanks, 'Mione." It felt hollow to his ears, to say those words. Yet they had to be said. His throat felt too dry, too constricted. He couldn't breathe.

The Order had been discussing what to do; arguing back and forth, and it had already been two hours since Draco had been taken. Harry was getting frantic.

He finally slammed his hands down on Dumbledore's desk. "Enough!" he bellowed. The adults were shocked into silence.

"Draco could be dead right now, and if he is, I hold every single one of you personally responsible. If you could've all just pulled your heads out of your arses for a minute and worked together, we might have already gotten him back by now. As it is, Merlin only knows what he's gone through while we've sat here so you could squabble like a bunch of kids!"

"Harry, that's no way to talk to your elders-" Mrs. Weasley began, but Harry cut her off.

"I'll talk however the bloody fuck I want to talk!" He glared while several of the adults gasped. He gestured to the Weasleys. "I know you're mad because I hurt Ginny, and yeah; I cocked up. Not by being with Draco, but by not telling Gin that we weren't gonna work because I'm gay and I was falling for another boy. It doesn't matter that that boy is Draco Malfoy. It doesn't matter that he's Marked. He was forced into it and when it came down to it he made the right choice. And even if we started off our relationship with a mistake, I don't regret being with him for a moment. Because I love him." Harry swallowed around a lump in his throat. "And right now the boy I love is being tortured and maybe killed. And rather than doing anything about it, I'm forced to sit here and listen to you guys bickering. I think I have the right to be pissed! And if any part of your reluctance to come to an agreement is based on the fact that you," he gestured to the Weasleys again, "are still angry over what happened with Ginny, I'll fucking kill you if anything happens to him because of it."

The adults sat in stunned silence after Harry finished his speech.

"Harry," started Remus, but Harry held up a hand.

"Don't, Remus. Not right now."

He glared at all and sundry before straightening up again and beginning to speak. "Now, we know Tom is in Malfoy Manor. That's where he's got Draco. Our main problems are getting through the wards, avoiding the Death Eaters once we get inside, and keeping Tom ignorant to our presence. So first, what can we do about the wards?"

Just like that, Harry took over the meeting. No one said a word against it. After all, he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the child of the prophecy, and this role was one he had been born to. Not to mention, he did it rather well at it.

Draco was desperately thirsty. His throat felt like sandpaper. Screaming for hours will do that to a bloke. He whimpered. At least he wasn't under Cruciatus anymore, thank Merlin.

His wrists were raw and bleeding. They had been manacled to the post while he was tortured, and his twisting and writhing and straining at his bonds had torn away the skin, leaving raw flesh. Fenrir Greyback had eyed him hungrily, and Draco felt sick to think that he might end up that creature's prey.

But not yet.

Voldemort wasn't done playing with him yet.

A spasm ran through his body; after-effects of the Cruciatus. Left untreated, the nerve damage might be permanent. At the moment, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

He knew he should care, somewhere in the back of his mind. He just couldn't quite remember why. He was so tired. So thirsty. And he hurt so much.

He just wanted to sleep.

And maybe never have to wake up.

Yes, that would be nice.

"I'm coming with you."

Lucius Malfoy stood ramrod straight, glaring defiantly at Dumbledore, who said nothing and merely looked amused. There was a cry of outrage from various Order members, and Lucius looked imperiously around the room.

"This is my son who's been captured. My Manor you need to break into. You'd be fools to leave me behind."

Harry stared at Lucius with distaste. But no matter how much he loathed the man, it was clear that he was right. And Harry was not about to lower Draco's chances of rescue over a petty squabble like Lucius having tried to kill him for several years running. He spoke up, overriding the argumentative voices of the adults in the room.

"Lucius is right," he said. "We don't stand a chance without him."

In the midst of the shocked silence that fell over the room, Lucius turned and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

Harry flew high and fast on his Firebolt, feeling slightly impatient that he couldn't go all out like all of his instincts were screaming for him to do. He couldn't leave the others behind. So he forced himself to keep pace with them, and did his best to dampen down his impatience.

He had nearly been left out of the mission. It was only with the support of Snape, Remus Lupin, and surprisingly, Arthur Weasley, that he had been able to convince the rest of the Order to let him come along.

For some reason Ron and Hermione had fought to come as well, and in the end, all three of the Golden Trio were flying to Wiltshire, although two out of the three were still not speaking.

He had to prove that they hadn't been wrong to take him. And he couldn't deviate from the plan. Draco's life was at stake. He couldn't afford to mess this up.

They had been flying for so bloody long. Harry glanced to his right, and a feeling of surrealism overtook him as he realised he was flying side-by-side with Lucius Malfoy, and they were on their way to a mission on which they would work together, rather than trying to kill or maim one another. He wondered what Lucius thought of his relationship with his son.

Harry snorted. He was worrying about what bloody Lucius Malfoy thought, of all people! But Lucius was important to Draco, and therefore it was something Harry had to think about. But not now.

He redirected his attention to their destination. They were in Wiltshire, and should be coming up on the Manor soon.

Sure enough, Lucius gave a shout, and he could see the outline of the Manor ahead and below. His stomach clenched in fear at the thought of what Draco must have gone through in the hours it had taken to prepare this rescue. If he were even still alive... No. Harry would not go there.

He couldn't.

They were almost there.

Hold on, Draco, his thoughts whispered. Hold on; I'm coming.

Draco was dead.

He was sure of it.

He was being punished for all the things he'd done.

The bullying, the taunts, the power-trip he'd taken in fifth year.

Cursing Katie Bell.

Poisoning Ron Weasley.

Placing Madam Rosmerta under Imperius.

Planning to kill Dumbledore, and unleash Death Eaters on the school.

He had so many sins to be punished for.

He'd endured another bout of Cruciatus.

Not as long as the first one, but he hadn't received nerve potion to treat it, and the addition of a second round left his muscles spasming intermittently.

They were flaying him.

Skinning him alive.

He'd been hit with a whipping curse until he'd passed out.

When he came to, they brought him back again, chained him to his post again, and began this latest torture.

"Incendio," intoned a voice.

Draco burned.

The pain was exquisite.

Draco had lost his voice and couldn't even scream. All he could do was release hoarse, breathy squealing noises that amused the Dark Lord and his minions greatly. He twisted and writhed, twitched and spasmed, great big tears running down his face, mingling with his snot, where they were dried by the flames.

He couldn't be alive and endure this, no matter what spells they had cast on him to keep him going.

He had to be dead.

Because this was hell.

Mundungus Fletcher shifted from one foot to the other nervously. He felt slightly sick from the smell and sight of the blood and charred flesh; of the bloodied and burned body of the boy who lay behind him, hands suspended above his head, held in manacles bound to a post in the middle of the room. He twitched now and then.

"What news do you have for me?" intoned the Dark Lord, and Dung swallowed. He'd never been overly loyal to the Order; but he'd never really wanted the Dark Lord to win, either. But the Dark Lord had promised payment. He'd promised Dung riches and glory should he bring information that led to the capture of Harry Potter.

He'd managed to break away from the rest of the Order and use the Portkey the Dark Lord had provided him with for this very reason.

But when he'd shown up without Harry Potter in tow, the Dark Lord had not been pleased.

"Harry Potter is in the Manor as we speak, my Lord."

The Dark Lord appeared surprised. "How is that possible?"

"Lucius Malfoy, sir. He disabled the wards and let us in. The Order is with him; but they've split up. Potter is vulnerable, sir."

The Dark Lord shook his head. "Why would Potter have taken such a risk?"

"Because, my Lord, he loves that boy." Dung gestured to the mutilated body behind him, careful not to look too closely.

The Dark Lord sat back in his chair. "Does he, now? How… interesting."

Then he threw back his head and laughed.

A few feet away, Draco twitched violently and a few more silent tears ran down his cheeks. Don't come, Harry. Please, please leave. Don't let them get you. Please. Don't come.

"Thank you for your efforts, Mr. Potter. They are greatly appreciated."

"I'm not doing this for you," Harry replied. "I'm doing this for Draco."

Lucius gave him a long, searching look, then looked away, giving no hint as to what thoughts he might have on the subject.

In a different situation, it might have amused Harry that he was paired with Lucius Malfoy. As it was he scarcely cared, except to appreciate that the person he was paired with was the one person in their group who wanted Draco back as desperately as he did himself.

Lucius had taken them to the back of the gardens, and carefully opened a hole in the wards for them to enter. He then outlined the secret passages in and out of the Manor for them – there were four – and they split into groups to enter the Manor from different directions and broaden their search.

Once inside, they split into pairs and widened the search further. They each carried a coin, like the ones that had been used for the DA, to alert the others once Draco had been located. They would convene on the location and base their plans for Draco's rescue on the situation they found.

Harry had managed to get himself paired with Lucius. Mad-Eye had wanted to be paired with him, but Harry didn't trust him not to kill Lucius once they were alone, and overruled him.

Harry was their leader now. He wasn't entirely sure how it had happened, but it had. They all listened to him and looked to him. Dumbledore had merely smiled and given Harry a look of pride.

So Harry and Lucius crept through Malfoy Manor together, silent and wary. They heard loud laughter ahead, and exchanged glances. They wanted to avoid running into Death Eaters, and from the sound of it there were a lot of them in the room beyond the corridor. They were about to turn back when they heard someone shout, "Dance, boy; dance! Show us how graceful the Malfoys are!"

A chorus of laughter followed those words, and Harry and Lucius exchanged glances.

They crept the rest of the way down the corridor, and peered into the antechamber before them.

What they saw sickened them.

The Death Eaters stood around the edges of the room. At the opposite end of the chamber, there was a throne, on which Voldemort was seated.

In the center of the room was a post, and chained to that post was Draco.

Or what was left of him.

Draco was spasming violently as he was held under a curse, and they watched as his back arched, and he threw his head back and let out a silent scream.

The skin of his back hung in bloody ribbons at his sides.

He was covered in burns, and the smell of his burnt flesh filled the air.

His wrists were bleeding, raw and open wounds from the manacles.

His eyes were glazed and unfocused.

Harry felt ill. He wanted to charge in at once and stop what they were doing. Only the knowledge that it would merely get him captured, and not help Draco, kept him back.

Harry pulled out his coin to alert the rest of the Order, but he saw at a glance that Lucius had already done so.

"What do we do?" he whispered. "We can't let this continue. They'll kill him!"

Lucius scowled. "Right now, we wait. There are only two of us, and we'll accomplish nothing by getting ourselves killed." He paused. "I'm thinking of a plan we can implement once the others get here."

Harry growled in frustrated impatience, but resigned himself to waiting.

At that moment, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Awe, is the poor ickle baby sad to see his lover hurt? And the traitor! Does it pain you to see your son dance for us?"

Bellatrix Lestrange threw her head back and laughed, while the two Death Eaters beside her immobilized him and Lucius before they could react.

Crowing, they levitated their prizes and marched with them into the room.

"My Lord!" Bellatrix cried. "See what we've caught!"

The Dark Lord smiled.

"Harry Potter," he said. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor!"

Draco was barely conscious.

He was simply grateful that the pain had stopped.

Rather, it hadn't stopped, but it had abated enough that he could begin to bear it.

Then he heard a dreaded voice saying something even more dreaded.

"Harry Potter. Welcome to Malfoy Manor!"

No.

Draco wanted to scream. It was wrong; so very, very wrong.

Harry wasn't supposed to be here.

Harry wasn't supposed to be trying to save him.

Harry wasn't supposed to die.

But Draco was helpless, and there was nothing he could do to save the boy he loved.

Because he loved Harry.

He knew that now.

He loved him with his whole heart.

Harry breathed faster as he realised the position he was in. He was immobilized in a room filled with Death Eaters, facing Voldemort.

For some reason they hadn't taken his wand.

Perhaps Voldemort wanted to duel him again.

"Put him there! Leave the traitor to the side. I will deal with him after."

Voldemort gestured to a place right beside Draco when he told them where to place Harry. Bellatrix and her cronies did as instructed.

"Release him." He gestured to the blond.

Draco stumbled and slid to the ground as the manacles were released. He wanted to stand, but could not.

"Give him a healing potion," Voldemort said in a bored tone. "Just enough so he can stand."

Harry wondered what was going on, as a Death Eater stepped up and poured the potion down Draco's throat.

Draco coughed, and struggled to his feet. He stumbled over to Harry and clutched at him.

"No," he rasped. "You can't… you can't be here. Not you too. Please, Merlin, not you!"

Harry looked at the state of him, covered in blood and sweat and snot and tears, yet concerned only for Harry. He had never loved the blond more than at that moment. He had never seemed so beautiful.

Voldemort had said something, but Harry missed it. He was too caught up with Draco. Then suddenly he was free from the immobilizing spell, and without another thought he threw his arms around the blond, careful of his raw and bleeding back.

"Draco," he breathed. "Draco."

"Harry," Draco whispered back.

Then Harry remembered where he was. He straightened, and held his wand at Voldemort.

Voldemort laughed.

"I will duel you again, Potter, and this time I will win. I have a different wand now; a stronger wand. One that is not twin to yours. This time, there will be nothing to save you. But first… Avada Kedavra!"

He aimed at Draco.

Harry saw it coming a split second before it happened. He did the only thing he could.

Harry threw himself in front of the blond, and the stream of sickly green light caught him directly in the centre of his chest.

His eyes went dark, and his body went limp against Draco, who caught it as they sank to the floor.

Harry was floating, drifting in nothingness.

It was dark.

Harry was afraid of the dark, yet here he didn't mind it. It was right somehow.

He was serene, suspended in nothing, yet unafraid.

He spotted a light glowing far in the distance, and curiously moved towards it.

It hurt.

He shied away. He didn't want to go near that light.

Harry.

He heard a voice in the distance, calling somewhere in the back of his mind.

Harry!

He frowned. It was coming from the light.

He didn't want to go near the light. It hurt him. Here, drifting in the void, he felt nothing but calm and peace. There was nothing here that could hurt him. There were no expectations, no danger, nothing bad or harmful could touch him.

Yes, Harry wanted to stay here.

Harry! The voice called again, urgently. "For Merlin's sake, Potter; wake up! You can't be dead! I won't let you!"

It came to him then.

Malfoy.

Draco.

He couldn't stay here.

He had to go back.

His Draco was waiting for him.

Draco knelt there, cradling Harry's body. He was aware that the Dark Lord was still there, still laughing. He could hear the cheers of the Death Eaters, echoing through the room. He heard the cries of the Order, who'd gotten there too late.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered, except that Harry's lifeless body lay in his arms, and the fact that it was all his fault.

Draco wanted to cry.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to throw his head back and wail.

But he couldn't. It would serve no purpose.

So he simply held Harry's body, and kept calling him, like some stupid children's toy spelled to repeat the same actions over and over.

"Harry!" He bit back a sob. "Harry! Harry! For Merlin's sake, Potter, wake up! You can't be dead. I won't let you!" he shrieked the words childishly, feeling himself lose control.

He knew Harry wouldn't wake up. He couldn't. No one survived the Killing Curse. Harry had as a child; but he'd been under the protection of his mother's love then, safeguarded by pure devotion.

And now he'd given his life for Draco.

For nothing.

Any minute now the Dark Lord would turn his wand on Draco, and he would join Harry in whatever the afterlife held. He couldn't bring himself to care. He only hoped he would be with Harry again, in whatever came after.

Then the impossible happened. Harry's eyelashes fluttered, and he twitched. Draco's eyes grew wide.

Harry opened his eyes sleepily, and murmured, "Draco." A small smile lit his lips, and his eyes fell shut again. Draco could feel his chest softly rising and falling, and knew Harry was still here. Still alive; still with him. He closed his eyes in pure relief.

No one else noticed. They were too busy celebrating or grieving or fighting.

Then the Dark Lord's voice broke through his reverie. "Now it is your turn, young Malfoy," he sneered. Draco straightened. Whatever happened to him didn't matter, so long as Harry survived. And since everyone thought he was dead, he stood a chance.

Draco faced his death with dignity and calm.

Suddenly Harry moved. There were shocked gasps from around the room as he struggled to stand, and failed utterly.

Draco held on to him and helped him to his feet. The two boys stumbled together, both very weak.

"Tom," Harry said calmly. "I won't go that easily."

The Dark Lord was furious. He let out a scream of rage,

Harry was struggling to lift his wand; Draco grasped his hand, clutching Harry and his wand together, and helped the Gryffindor raise it. They aimed it at the Dark Lord.

"Today you die, Tom," said Harry calmly. He almost seemed to glow, Draco thought. He radiated peace.

Draco closed his eyes and thought of Harry; his love for Harry, and how deeply and completely he'd fallen for the other boy. If these were his last moments, he wanted them to be like this, at Harry's side, with thoughts of Harry and how intensely the other boy had touched his heart.

The Dark Lord turned his wand on the two boys, and shrieked, "Avada Kedavra!"

In the same moment, Harry and Draco shouted as one, "Avada Kedavra!"

A beam of green light shot from Harry's wand. It was thicker, darker than any spell Draco had ever seen before. Stronger, and more powerful.

The thin jet of green that had shot from the Dark Lord's wand was swallowed up, and the beam continued, right through his wand, and enveloped him. The pulsing green light surrounded him like a cloud, and he screamed, writhing in the centre, before a brilliant flash of green and white light lit the room and blinded everyone in it.

When they opened their eyes, the Dark Lord was gone.

In his place lay his cloak, wrapped around a dusty skeleton clutching a wand that was split down the middle.

Draco slid his arms around Harry and tried not to cry.

"I love you, Draco," whispered Harry into his neck.

"I love you, too," he choked back. "Harry."

Then the tears that he couldn't hold back anymore overwhelmed him.

The fighting had been relatively quick after that. The Death Eaters were in shock, and easily subdued.

Harry and Draco had been whisked to St. Mungo's, where they were carefully and thoroughly healed. The scars on Draco's back were barely visible.

Then had come the celebrations.

Harry and Draco were heroes. Defeaters of the Dark Lord.

It was overwhelming.

Returning to Hogwarts to finish the semester felt unreal. Draco was constantly surrounded and bombarded by fans. It was a little intimidating.

But he handled it as a Malfoy should, accepting everything that came his way as his due, holding his head high and keeping his emotionless mask in place, except to sneer when he deemed it appropriate.

He used sarcasm and vitriol to mask his stress, which led to a fight with Harry, during which they had called one another "Potter" and "Malfoy", and stormed away from one another.

They had yet to find time alone together, and were driven to distraction over it.

It was after that fight that Draco found himself standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, shifting slightly – not enough that anyone would notice, but enough to relieve some of the tension he felt.

"Please, I need to speak to Harry. Harry Potter. Can you just give him the message? That Draco Malfoy wants to talk to him?"

The Fat Lady sniffed.

"Harry asked me not to bother letting him know when people are asking for him. You'll have to wait until he comes out, like the rest of his fans."

"But I'm not a fan!" Draco was ready to tear at his hair in frustration, the way Harry did. "I'm his boyfriend! We defeated the Dark Lord together!"

"I'm sure you did," said the Fat Lady patronizingly.

Draco huffed and leaned against the wall to wait.

The last person he wanted to see appeared.

"Malfoy."

"Weasel."

The Weasel stood there uncomfortably, staring at him. Then he spoke.

"Harry really loves you, you know."

"I know." Draco paused. "I really love him, too." It was the second time he'd admitted it aloud.

"Yeah." Weasel shifted uncomfortably. "I reckon you do."

Draco huffed out another breath, and the Weasel moved towards the portrait.

"Victory," he said, and the portrait swung open. Draco snorted.

Weasel paused. "Well, Malfoy, you coming or not?"

Draco gaped at him – actually gaped – before righting himself, straightening his robes and following Weasel into the Gryffindor common room regally.

The room was so… so red. Draco sneered in distaste.

He got a lot of stares when he stepped in, and he wasn't entirely sure how to react. But he held his expression and his head high, and strode forwards.

"Where's Harry?"

"In his bed, sulking over something," replied an Irish voice, following the comment with a snicker. "Stairs on the left, second door from the top." Draco eyed the sandy-haired boy – Sean? No, something different entirely – and nodded curtly. "Thank you."

"I'll show you where," said Weasel, surprising him again, and he followed the redhead up the stairs.

"Thank you, Wease- Weasley."

"I'm not doing it for you," he replied.

When they stepped into the room, he noticed the five red four-posters, lined up just like the green ones in the Slytherin dorms. On the middle bed lay Harry, morosely doodling with his quill.

"Hey, mate," said Weasel, and Harry looked up, startled.

"Ron?" he said uncertainly, and Draco remembered how Harry had said he'd lost the Weasel's friendship over their "indiscretion".

"I know I've been a right prat to you – you've got to admit I had a sort of right to be – but seeing you almost die out there really cut me up. I realised that no matter what, you're my best mate. And I want you to be happy." He moved, and Harry's gaze landed on Draco. His mouth formed a small "o" as he stared.

"Close your mouth, Potter, it's uncouth," said Draco, and winced inwardly. That hadn't been the kind of thing he'd meant to say at all.

But Harry's mouth curved into a smile, and he was getting up, making his way over to Draco.

Weasel coughed. "I'll see you later, Harry… we'll talk, yeah?"

"Yeah," whispered Harry, not taking his eyes off of Draco. "We'll talk later."

Weasel beat a hasty retreat, closing the door after himself.

Draco turned and threw some locking and silencing charms at the door. "That'll give us some privacy," he said. He drew in a deep breath. "Listen, Potter; I know I've been… difficult… lately, but-"

"Shhh," Harry placed a finger over his lips – and when had he gotten that close? – and he whispered, "I get it. I understand. You're stressed, and this is just how you react. I can learn to live with it."

Draco was relieved that Harry understood, that his apology could go unspoken.

"But I think you should make it up to me," murmured Harry with a wicked grin, and then he was on Draco, attacking his mouth with passion. Draco was knocked against the wall, held in place by the insistent pressure of Harry's body against his own.

Draco let out a low cry and responded eagerly. Their teeth clacked from the force of the kiss, and they laughed against each other's mouths. Harry slid his tongue into Draco's mouth and their tongue began that familiar dance that they had not had a chance to engage in for so long.

Their hands roamed over one another's bodies, touching, caressing, feeling.

Draco swiped his tongue across the roof of Harry's mouth, tasting him. He wanted to engulf Harry. He wanted to climb inside of him so deep that they were one person.

He wanted Harry to engulf him. To envelop him and his entire being. To encase and enclose him with himself, so that Draco would never have to be without him again.

They stumbled their way to Harry's bed, still kissing. They fell back, Draco on top of Harry, and he bit Harry's lip. He moved to Harry's neck, sucking at his pulse point while Harry mewled and Merlin! He loved the sounds that boy made.

He tugged impatiently at Harry's jumper, and Harry shucked it quickly, Harry leaned forward and began to undo his robes, but he shrugged Harry off.

"Not yet," he breathed.

He licked and kissed and sucked his way down Harry's torso, while Harry cried out and moaned the whole while. He teased a nipple here, nipped at his belly button there, and delighted in the reactions of the smaller boy.

He fumbled at Harry's zipper – why did he have to wear those damn Muggle jeans that were tighter than trousers, even if they did showcase his arse in a way that drove Draco wild – and began struggling to divest Harry of the garment.

Harry sat up and helped him, and he tugged at Harry's pants as well. He stripped Harry down – including his shoes and socks – and finally eyed the gorgeous, naked boy before him.

It had been so long since he'd seen Harry naked. Not since they'd lost their virginity together. He salivated as he gazed at Harry's beautiful cock.

"Merlin, Harry," he breathed. "Merlin."

Harry flushed. Draco began kissing, licking, and sucking at the tender flesh of Harry's inner thighs, and around his groin. Harry cried out and writhed, trying to push his cock closer to the hot, wet heat of Draco's mouth. Draco obliged, opening wide and taking Harry in deep. Harry arched right off the bed, and Draco nearly gagged.

He held Harry's hips down firmly and began sucking, pumping with his fist and hollowing his cheeks as he bobbed up and down. Harry was thrashing, making the most delicious noises. Harry's hands were in his hair, but he didn't mind; he didn't mind at all.

Draco kept it up for several minutes, tasting the dusky flavour of Harry and loving it.

"Oh, Merlin, Draco… So good… fuck, Draco, so good…" Harry moaned.

Then he pulled back, gave a few last licks to the tip, and straightened. Harry groaned in frustration.

"Merlin, Draco, you can't leave me like this!"

Draco smirked. "I don't intend to."

Harry's eyes widened, and grew dark. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, Draco, please." He started to spread his legs, but Draco stopped him, even though his mouth ran dry at the sight of Harry's hole.

"This time, you're fucking me."

Harry drew in a sharp breath. "But your back… the healer said to stay off of it for another month! You have to sleep on your stomach – how can you-"

"I didn't say I was going on my back, Potter, Merlin!" Draco smirked again at Harry's expression of confusion.

He took his time getting undressed, stripping teasingly, tantalizingly, as Harry's pupils grew ever darker, and precome leaked from the head of his cock.

When they were both naked, Draco drew close to the bed, easing himself onto Harry. They both groaned at the skin to skin contact as their cocks brushed.

He lay on top of Harry for a few moments, while they gently rocked back and forth and explored one another's bodies with their hands.

After a little while, it wasn't enough. Harry was gripping Draco's arse and beginning to grind against him, and Draco was forced to stop things again. He wanted to make this last.

He sat up, straddling Harry's thighs. He conjured lube with a few words, and began to prepare himself.

"Let me," Harry begged, and Draco quickly acquiesced. It was a trifle awkward, since Draco couldn't lie back, but he spread his legs as wide as he could and leaned against one of the bed posts, sticking his arse out for Harry to prepare.

Harry slid the first gentle finger inside of him, and gave and experimental wriggle before withdrawing it again. He lay on his stomach so he was in a better position to see and prepare Draco. Draco enjoyed the sensation of the finger inside him; he often fingered himself when he wanked.

"More," he urged Harry. "I can take it."

Harry added the second finger, and Draco let out a small moan as the two fingers pumped in and out and scissored inside him.

Harry brushed his prostate and he gasped.

"Yes! Harry, yes!"

Encouraged, Harry proceeded to massage his prostate. He moaned and cried out, barely able to keep to his position.

"More!" he begged. "Please, Harry; more!"

Harry added the third finger and Draco panted as he moved his body in time with Harry's fingers. After a few moments he said, "Okay, I'm ready."

Harry pulled back, then sat up, uncertain.

"Lie down on your back, Harry," Draco instructed. Harry obeyed.

Draco came forward and straddled him, positioning himself over Harry's cock. He saw Harry's eyes light with understanding, and glow with undisguised lust. It made him hot and cold all over and he shivered.

He slowly lowered himself onto Harry's cock. He gasped as it breached him – fuck, that hurt! – and stilled for a moment. Harry's eyes were shut tight, his face screwed up in concentration.

"Merlin, Draco," he groaned. "You're so tight!"

Draco smiled, and since the burn had begun to lessen, began to push himself further down on Harry's cock. Harry gasped and his eyelashes fluttered.

"Look at me, Harry," Draco urged. "Look at me."

Harry looked. Their eyes locked, green and grey, as Draco slid down the last inch and he sat firmly seated against Harry's abdomen, Harry's cock buried deep inside his arse.

He waited for his body to adjust to the intrusion. He groaned. He felt so… full. He was full of Harry, and it was glorious. Then he slowly, tentatively, began to move.

He rose up and down, gasping with each change in sensation. Harry thrust his hips in time with Draco's movements, and he cried out as Harry hit his prostate. He kept to that angle after that, and sped up, riding Harry desperately.

"Oh, Merlin, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry!" he chanted, head thrown back, bouncing up and down on that amazing cock. Each movement was ecstasy. Each thrust of Harry's hips was exquisite. Pleasure coiled through his body, undulating like a snake.

"Draco, yes! Fuck, Draco!" he heard Harry crying out below him. He stared into those viridian eyes, memorising them and the way Harry looked as he thrashed about in passion.

Then another wave of pleasure hit, and he threw his head back again, riding Harry for all he was worth, until at last he came with a shout all over Harry's stomach. As his channel clenched around Harry, he felt Harry's release begin to fill him as Harry cried out, as well. Draco's cock pulsed the last of its fluid out, and he dropped bonelessly onto Harry, feeling Harry's cock finish pumping inside him.

They lay together and panted.

"That was…"

"Yeah."

They both chuckled, and Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. He kissed his forehead.

"I love you, Draco."

"I love you, Harry," Draco responded with a smile.

They lay together without speaking until the stickiness became uncomfortable.

Harry cast a cleaning charm on them, and they curled together in his bed, snuggling.

"This is nice," Harry murmured into Draco's neck.

"Yeah," answered Draco.

They were silent for another moment, before Draco remembered something and spoke up.

"You've been invited to the Manor for dinner this weekend."

Harry straightened up. "I have?" He sounded half-panicked.

Draco chuckled. "Yes, you have. My father took quite a liking to you that day."

"Your father. Likes me," said Harry flatly.

"Yes, he does," Draco repeated, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Harry flopped back onto the bed. "This is it," he declared. "The world is officially coming to an end."

Draco burst out laughing, and after a moment Harry's lips twitched. He began to chuckle, and soon the only sound in the soundproofed room was that of two boys giggling together.

Life was good.