Gay Aurors

"Wales? What are we doing in Wales?" asked Draco.

A few feet away, a twig snapped as a sheep stepped over some bracken. Draco must've felt a bit jumpy as he was up from the ground and into Harry's arms. Harry teetered, but managed to distribute the weight evenly enough that he didn't topple.

"It's just a sheep," said Harry as Draco wriggled around to get another look at it. Harry pressed his lips together to keep from giggling, as really, giggling would be rude, girlish and would guarantee he wouldn't get laid again in this century.

Draco cleared his throat but didn't get down. "Right. Well. That would explain the smell of wet sheep. Why do I smell cabbage?"

Harry was tempted to remind Draco that he was in Wales, but that just seemed like belaboring the point. "That's probably what Madam Marsh is cooking."

Draco turned his head the other way to see the unassuming cottage in the distance. The day was darkening into evening and the lights were already on. They lit up in a warm glow from each window in the stone. "Madam Marsh. She's the witch that's always puking on the Knight Bus isn't she? Half-blood, you know."

Sometimes Draco's categorical memory for names and people surprised Harry. It was like he had some sort of running ticker in his head about blood purity and random facts about everyone. Outside of that awe was a mild annoyance that Draco still pointed such things out. "I don't know about her heritage, but yes, she does get motion sick. She was a friend to the Order, though. I found out during the war that this was where Hagrid brought me on Sirius's flying bike the night my parents died. It's a safe house outside of Ministry control."

During the speech, Draco turned around again in Harry's arms and looked down at him. His arms were around Harry's neck and he gave him an apologetic smile and some of the tension released from Harry's neck. Habitual recitation of blood purity he could deal with, he supposed. "She's not going to make us eat cabbage, is she?" he asked petulantly.

"I don't think she enforces cabbage eating," said Harry. He grinned up at Draco, seeing the fight drain out of his face, giving over to weariness that seemed to hit Harry at the same time.

"Very well, carry me there," said Draco in the midst of a sigh, his hand flailing towards the cottage.

"What? You've legs. Use them!" said Harry, almost dropping Draco out of spite. Before Draco had said anything, he'd been tempted to carry him there just because he enjoyed Draco holding on to him, but if he was expected to, that was a different matter.

"You said there were sheep!" Draco protested, wriggling around so that he was hanging off of Harry with his legs wrapped around his waist.

That made it significantly harder to say no to, and Harry knew he'd done that on purpose. "Are you afraid of sheep?" asked Harry.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, but where there are sheep, there are things that sheep leave on the ground and I don't want to step in it and get my shoes dirty."

Behind him, he could feel Draco wriggling his feet as if displaying his shoes.

"They're not even your shoes! Kingsley gave them to you!" Harry protested, half laughing as he started towards the cottage.

A discussion like this could last all night and he really was rather tired. Draco may not enjoy boiled cabbage, but hungry as Harry was, he thought he could stand a serving or two. It smelled like it had bacon in. His stomach growled and was answered by Draco's.

"Even so," drawled Draco loudly, as if it could cover the sound of his rumbling tummy, "no point in both of us tracking muck in, yeah?"

"Quite," said Harry as he tried to avoid the lumps as he trekked to the cottage. It was bent logic, but as they were almost there anyway and he was tired, he just let it go with a quick stolen kiss to the corner of Draco's lips.

It was then that he remembered the I love you lost in the void of travel. He still wasn't sure if he said it or Draco had. Draco wasn't fleeing in terror, so if Harry said it, he wasn't upset by it. Neither was he looking expectantly to Harry for a response, so if he said it, he was brilliant at playing it cool.

He decided that this, amongst many other things, would work out better to think about after some food and a good night's sleep.

***

"What, we can't do the whole... two souls as one thing to get into Grimmauld?" asked Draco. His expression was cheeky before he returned to picking the sultanas from his Welsh cake into his mouth. They were both in better spirits after having a good night-to-afternoon sleep in.

After a dinner of pork and boiled cabbage, they weren't long for being awake and had flopped into the guest bedroom together without so much of a question. Madam Marsh proved to be a rather good cook, which was fortunate for her considering how often she tasted everything twice.

As it turned out, she never passed her Apparition test and therefore had to take the Knight Bus when she wished to go out as Muggle transportation made her even more ill. Harry was pleasantly surprised that Draco said nothing sharp to her about any of it, but instead just sat in the cheery yellow kitchen contentedly with a large mug of tea until she bid the men goodbye so that she might run her errands.

After she left, Draco made a rather tasteless bulimia joke and once again the world was set to rights.

"Erm, no. I don't think that would fool the Fidelius Charm, as it's rather pickier than that. Even if it could, the moment I pulled out of you, you wouldn't know where you were," said Harry. He took a bite of his Welsh cake, finding it rather similar to a scone, but flatter.

"That sounds enjoyable, but logistically problematic," said Draco, wrinkling his nose at the mess he was making before giving it up as a bad job and taking a piece of bacon instead.

Harry blushed as he pictured him carrying Draco around all day, lodged inside of him. He didn't think it would work, but he was interested enough in the idea to try it.

"No," said Draco, grinning with a brow perked.

"Anyway, my house is our best bet for keeping you safe and in London," said Harry, his blush deepening at being caught in his fantasy.

"All right. But you said it's under a Fidelius Charm and I've no clue how to break that," said Draco who was shooting him a dirty look, indeed.

Mysteriously, Harry said, "I think I know someone who can help us."

***

Had Harry thought about it for even a few minutes more than he had, and had he not been quite so in a hurry to impress Draco with his idea, this awkwardness might've been avoided. There was no way for Draco to know whose door he was at and it wasn't until Bill opened the door, his face still marked with the deep lines of scarring from Fenrir Greyback's attack years ago at Hogwarts, that Harry realized just how big a gaff this was.

Draco paled and grabbed Harry to steady himself as Bill glared at him. Then Bill's face broke out into what Harry knew well enough to be his fake smile-- the one he used to placate Molly Weasley with. His eyes turned to Harry and he said, "Harry, good to see you."

"Who ees at zee door?" Fleur called from behind him. Harry felt the claiming tendrils of Veela magic before he saw Fleur's face. "'allo 'arry!" she said cheerily. Then her face turned stony as she looked at Draco.

What happened next surprised most everyone. Fleur pushed open the door and crossed to Draco. Her arm went up and Harry thought she might strike him, but instead, her head tilted and she caressed his cheek with two fingers. He did the same in a strange, stiff sort of salute that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck raise as he watched.

There was something odd and primal about this interaction, and there was the definite swirl and feedback of magic. It wasn't sexual in any sort of human sense, more like a feline greeting before Draco stood back and puffed his chest and Fleur turned and looked a bit coy.

No. Not feline. Bird-like.

Oh.

Bill stared at the interaction with puzzled agitation and then looked to Harry for explanation. "I expect it's the Veela blood in them both. Though, this didn't happen at Hogwarts."

"Malfoy was but a boy zen, no?" asked Fleur, who had finished her odd little dance and settled in with her arm around Bill to reassure him she wasn't going to leave the nest. Pun most definitely intended.

"No. I mean. Yes. Er," said Harry as Draco exhaled and shook his hair back proudly, tilting his head up.

"I was a man. I was always a man. I just hadn't..." Draco started.

"Molted?" asked Harry. He tried to edit the bitterness at seeing Draco so flustered over someone else out, but it didn't work. Fortunately, it did break the tension and Bill laughed.

Draco shot Harry a look with his eyes narrowed, but he was fighting his grin down. He brushed his fingers over the back of Harry's hand, almost like he was going to take it, but pulled away at the last moment. It was a little silly to play coy when you'd been in the press as being saved by buggering the Boy-Who-Lived and then caught naked in the fountain with him the day before, but Harry didn't feel this was the time for such a discussion.

In fact, he was starting to feel a bit conspicuous.

Sensing Harry's discomfort, Bill stepped aside and gestured broadly to invite them in.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw a flash of black down the hall. It could have been a shadow, or perhaps it was a ninja. He looked at Draco, but he didn't seem to notice anything amiss. Still, Harry shot a wary look around him, wondering if he was paranoid or not paranoid enough.

Bill and Fleur had set up in a simple one-bedroom flat. The decorations were kept to a minimum, but their furniture was stylishly striped red tones that complimented the wood flooring and gave the room a modern feel without seeming cold. The window looked out on a courtyard that the building seemed to have curled itself around, giving a view of the pool and people across the way.

"We're saving for the move," said Bill as Fleur pulled her wand to summon tea.

On one side of the living area was a door presumably to their bedroom, with another ajar that glowed with a permanent nightlight. It was a stark contrast from Grimmauld, which was dark, dingy and in spite of the fact that the dark objects had been removed from it, still held a stifling air of moodiness.

In the corner sat a desk with open books and Harry remembered that Ron mentioned Bill was studying up to perhaps go back to curse breaking. After being cooped up in the desk job at Gringotts, Bill was ready to get back into a more active job and Fleur was open to living in Egypt again, even if she had reservations about Bill taking such a dangerous position again.

Harry also knew that saving for the move was code for saving for a baby. Under severe threats if he ever mentioned it to anyone, Ron had confided in Harry that Bill and Fleur were having trouble conceiving. There was a lot of technical talk that involved Fleur being a Veela and the curious nature of what Greyback's attack had done to Bill that Harry had missed, but now he started to wonder if there wasn't a reason Fleur was so happy to see Draco.

He watched them talking animatedly as Draco sorted out his tea and Harry's mind started to build a terribly elaborate fantasy of Bill, Fleur and Draco all together. His face must've hardened at the thought, because Bill broke the silence, "She has that effect on blokes. She never does anything with them, don't worry."

For a flash of a second, Harry felt paranoid. He looked over at Draco. He was standing a little close to Fleur, but appeared to otherwise be fine.

He needed to keep an eye on that situation.

Wistfully, Bill sighed and smiled at Harry again. "So what brings you here?"

That Bill asked told him that his vanishing and what had gone on in Japan had been suppressed. He also hadn't seemed alarmed to find Draco on his doorstep, which meant that Draco wasn't technically a fugitive. Yet.

"I need to see about breaking the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld so that I can..." Saying he needed to hide Draco would be a very bad job, so he said, "Move him in with me."

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" asked Bill almost immediately. He smiled fondly at Fleur a moment and said, "It is awfully fast, but when it's right, it's right."

When Harry looked at Fleur and Draco, they were doing some sort of complicated hand and foot maneuver that looked almost like dancing, only Draco usually had better rhythm than that. He tilted his head, watching and then shook his head and looked back at Bill. "Yeah. He's a bad dancer, but I..." he trailed off and then wondered if it was wrong to tell everyone else before he told Draco. Fuck it. "Love him."

Bill clapped him on the back and beamed at Harry. "Good on you. Well, the thing with the Fidelius Charm, as I recall when Dumbledore cast it, was that it was to secure the secret of the headquarters of Order of the Phoenix."

"Yes, I know," said Harry, looking at Bill oddly.

"Meaning," said Bill, eyeing him carefully, but as he saw Harry wasn't catching on, he said, "that you just need to either dissolve the Order of the Phoenix, or declare Grimmauld as your home and not the headquarters of the Order."

"Oh," said Harry, blushing that it really was pretty easy and obvious. He felt really silly for coming out here to Islington over that.

"You didn't think Dumbledore would go and die, leaving you with a house you couldn't use, did you?" asked Bill, clapping him on the back.

"I guess... I did," said Harry.

"No, no. Remember how the Order had to leave Grimmauld out of worry that Bellatrix might be able to invoke her rights to owning it after Sirius passed away?" asked Bill.

Nodding, Harry recalled that he'd had to order that foul house-elf Kreacher in order to prove that Sirius had been able to bypass any sort of enchantments that might've been on the house that might've prevented Harry inheriting it.

"Right, well, he didn't have to recast the spell when the owner changed, because the Fidelius Charm was never on the property itself, but on the Order headquarters," said Bill.

One of the questions that had bothered him about the night that his parents had died was how Hagrid could've seen the house at Godric's Hollow if it had been under a Fidelius Charm, but now he realized that the secret was where James and Lily Potter were hiding and was not the address of the house. When the Potters had died, the secret no longer mattered and Harry was revealed at the house. Things made a lot more sense now. "So how do I declare it to be my house?"

"Oh, very dangerous magic there. You'll have to shag Malfoy and as you come, you scream, 'This is my house!'" said Bill.

"Really?" asked Harry, thinking that seemed like a pretty weak premise for ending a spell, even if he was already hardening at the thought.

"Er. No, Harry," said Bill, laughing. "Sex ending spells is pretty silly."

Harry blushed and shifted from foot to foot. "Yeah. Crazy." Awwwwkward.

"You just go in and declare that this house is a residence. It'll still be Unplottable, of course, but if you're still worried about Death Eaters, you can always have a new Fidelius Charm put on you. Try to avoid putting it on property in case of the worst, though. London's crowded enough without losing property!"

"Right," said Harry. He laughed a little at that, wondering if Unplottable would be enough. If he put a charm on Draco and he died... Draco would be very lonely with no one being able to see him. He'd have to sort that out later. "Thanks, Bill."

Now that Bill seemed to be loosening up and the strange swoopy dance that Fleur and Draco were engaged in seemed to be winding down, Harry found himself hoping that they would be invited to stay for dinner, or at least tea. The day had thus far been short, but he was ready for another little break in their spy-verse to just hang around.

However, when the naggingly familiar dance ended, Fleur shot Bill a lusty grin and Draco grabbed his traveling cloak. "Time to go, Potter."

Harry was out the door before he could ask what was going on and Draco refused to talk about it until they settled in at a kebab shop set up mostly for takeaway. It had an odd little square table and two lawn chairs as a nod to the fact that sometimes people might wait there or wish to "dine in."

Once their orders were served and Draco had had a sip of his bottled water, he informed Harry that he and Fleur were engaged in a fertility dance.

After Draco dislodged the piece of lamb that went down Harry's throat too fast at the news, he explained that it was merely a dance to encourage her fertility. "Honestly, Potter. You were right there. Did you see my clothes come off?"

"I don't know... how all..." said Harry before swigging down half of his water, wincing that he knew the retort already.

"You attended a mating ritual! Trust me, you would've noticed," said Draco. Harry noticed that his eyes still carried that reflective quality that they had that night and then smiled a little. Draco had helped them, hopefully, and it didn't look as if he'd negotiated for anything in return.

"Stop grinning at me like that," Draco huffed, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears at Harry's proud gaze. He shook his head so that his hair would fall in his face so he could hide. "What grand task of buggery have we to see to now in order to get me into your home?"

"None, actually," said Harry. When Draco looked up, Harry was pleased to see that he looked a bit disappointed before his expression went blank. "At least, none to get you in there."

"Yeah, there could always be something inside... some dark curse that only shagging will fix." Draco looked away just then, which was just as well, because now it was Harry's turn to blush at Draco's hopefulness.

***

It had only taken a minute to walk in and declare the home a residence. When he looked back outside of the black door with the serpentine door knocker, he saw Draco's eyes dazzle for a moment as the aged house came into view. He gave it a terse look and with a quick glance around him, walked up the front steps and into the entryway.

When Harry shut the door, the snake candelabra and gas lamps lit up revealing the still peeling wallpaper. The velvet curtains around Mrs Black fluttered lightly back over her portrait. Draco took in everything slowly, staring at the ceiling, then the stairs that led up several flights as would a proper town mansion. He ran his fingers over the wallpaper and pulled at a bit that came away easily from the wall.

Harry had never really given much thought to Grimmauld, or refinishing it. In some ways, it still felt haunted by Sirius's gloomy ghost, which made him suddenly realize how much he really loathed living here. Maybe that was why he'd never done anything to it other than a few cleaning charms to keep the pests away.

He was deep in contemplation about what he would do if he were to bother when he caught sight of Draco pulling apart the curtains over Mrs Black's portrait. He held his hand out, mouth open to stop Draco, but to his great surprise, she didn't start screaming.

"Who are you, young man?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. "You've a look about you..."

Immediately, Draco's posture straightened and his face took on a haughty air and Harry felt as if he were possessed by the boy that had tormented him in school. He'd always thought of Draco as standing tall and proud still, but it wasn't until this moment that he realized how much about him had really relaxed. "Draco Malfoy, Mrs Black," he said, with a polite incline to his head. "How do you do?"

"Draco Malfoy," she said, her voice sounding wondrous. Harry stepped back to make sure that he stayed out of the line of sight. "I do well, young man. Cissy's boy? I do believe we heard of your birth before we passed on," she said.

Harry had never heard Mrs Black sound in the least bit civil. It was eerie. He decided to count his blessings that perhaps the portrait world didn't get around much since they didn't know what had become of Draco.

"Yes, Narcissa Malfoy was my mum," said Draco. While he was smiling proudly to speak his mum's name, his eyes were sad with regret.

Remembering the dream vision he had of how he'd had to watch his mum die; Harry felt a pang of sadness for him. He thought of their younger years, the fire in his eyes in Madam Malkin's when he rushed to defend her from the harsh words that Harry had spoken to her. He couldn't quite bring himself to regret his anger-- Draco had called Hermione a Mudblood, after all, but he did remember now how protective Draco had been of her. Though she may have been Sirius's informant, she was also Draco's mum, and he ached for his loss and the grace with which Draco bore it.

"So she has passed. And your father?" she asked.

Draco simply shook his head and looked down at the tatty rugs. He pulled his wand and started to circle it. Harry watched in surprised fascination as the rug started to mend itself, the colors coming alive as the frayed edges knitted together. It was probably silly for him to believe Draco above such useful household charms. He lived on his own, after all, although Harry had never asked why he wasn't living in the Wiltshire Manor.

"And why are you here, young man?" Her voice sounded like it was fading and Harry recalled the way that many of the portraits were darkening and fading. Maybe in spite of her protests and screeches, she was passing from her current form. Harry had a hard time really regretting that, all things considered.

It was as if Draco could sense the answer she needed. Or maybe it was honestly how he saw it. He smiled slightly and said, "I was going to move in here, if it pleases you."

There was a pause and then Harry heard, "Very well. But I should warn you, this place is owned by a..." she paused again and whispered as if it were a horrible scandalous secret. Draco leaned in to hear what she had to say. "Half-blood."

Draco smirked briefly before pressing his lips together and then nodded gravely. "I shall keep a vigilant watch for the villain."

"See that you do," she said wearily. "Now, if you don't mind, I am quite... tired."

Without hesitation, Draco drew the curtains back around her and then smiled and shook his head, the expression on his face indulgent, and soft as if reliving memories of his mum. Then he sobered and gestured to the stairway to take them upstairs.

"Show me to my room, half-blood," he drawled, his tone teasing, but his voice was thick with emotion. Harry turned to lead the way up the stairs, giving Draco a moment to compose himself. Draco had done so much to try and preserve his family; Harry assumed that was why this house was affecting him so.

His stomach tightened as he thought of how it all seemed to madden Sirius, and hoped that Draco wouldn't sink into that sort of depression.

None of the other rooms were outfitted with anything other than mattresses and moth-eaten sheets, so he headed to his room on the first floor near the drawing room. He'd sealed off the upper floors, not really seeing a point in maintaining them when he could still them. This left him in a bit of a quandary as to what he would do if Draco insisted on his own room.

After a few minutes, he heard Draco's footfalls on the stairs. Draco hesitated on the stair with the special squeak. It sounded as if he were rocking his foot on it, testing it out. Then he moved up the next few stairs to the landing, but instead of entering Harry's room, he headed to the drawing room.

Harry moved to the doorway to watch Draco walking around, searching it out like a cat discovering his new surroundings. His hands were tucked behind his back, no doubt a survival method for children used to a life in houses with dark magic. He wondered if Draco came by that habit by instruction or practice.

He stared at the tapestry and then finally turned to Harry who was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded. Draco's face was inscrutable. "I thought you wanted to see your room."

"Got sidetracked."

"There is only one room properly fixed up. You can have my room if you want." Harry pushed off of the frame of the door and pushed his hair back.

"I don't think that's necessary. You can stay in your room with me," said Draco, smiling slyly.

Harry's stomach flipped, but he tried to keep his face sensible and just nodded. Maybe it really was Draco who said 'I love you.' He nodded and swallowed, hoping that meant what he thought it did. "We should probably see to setting up the new Fidelius Charm."

"Right then. So we don't cast it on me, or on the house, what do we cast it on?" asked Draco. He'd made it to the doorway and set his arm on the doorframe. It left them but scant inches apart and for an agonizingly heady moment, he thought Draco would kiss him.

But he didn't.

"I guess we'll need to start our own organization," said Harry after an expectant silence.

"Our own club. So do I get to be president?" asked Draco, leaning in to brush their lips together.

"You could be," said Harry, sliding his hands up over Draco's chest. "We need a name for it. It could be... Drarry."

"Pfft, that's a shit name," said Draco. He grabbed Harry's hips and started walking him backwards. Harry steered them to the bedroom.

The bedroom was fairly small, done up with blue walls painted over wood paneling to make it look bright-- no doubt Molly Weasley's attempt to beautify the place. It was a bed of all chintz covering over echoes of debauched actions that mimicked the carvings up and down the posts. Not that either boy noticed the frills any more than the dirty carvings. It was a good job Harry didn't notice them; he'd likely blush.

"Better than Harco," Harry retorted.

"What wouldn't be better than that?" asked Draco. "Guns and Handcuffs?"

Harry laughed and slid his arms down Draco's back, grabbing his arse with both hands. "Order of the Dragon?"

"Mmm, now there's something." Draco's sly smile told Harry he'd picked something that would appeal to Draco's ego. He was glad that Draco wasn't tired of the dragon motif in his life. "So does that make me the Head Dragon?" asked Draco, being pulled backwards by Harry's momentum.

"You could be the President of the Order of the Dragon," said Harry. The back of his knees hit the pale frilly bed and he paused before taking a seat, pulling Draco to fall on top of him.

"Y'know... I think I prefer Head Dragon," said Draco as he caught himself on one arm so as not to crush Harry as he started undressing. He blew a tuft of frill from his mouth as he gazed down at Harry. His expression reflected just how impressed he was that Harry had such a girly bed.

"I thought you might." Harry bit Draco's bottom lip and started wriggling out of Kingsley's cast-offs.

"So as the Head Dragon and only member of this Order of the Dragon, does that mean I get to set the initiation rites?" Draco pulled his robe off over his head and started working off his trousers.

"Initiation rites? So this is one of those sorts of Orders, is it?" Harry had to admit that he hadn't even thought about that. He should've known that Draco would be one step ahead of him. Given where this was going, though, Harry didn't mind at all.

Harry was just working off his own clothes when Draco had charmed the duvet to something softer in chenille that better worked for the colors in the room-- a chocolate brown that remained neutral and luxuriant. He rumpled it up under Harry and grinned as he spread him out on the brown bed. He was a lone figure, pressed against the bed on his belly, his perfect arse up, dick hard against the unbelievably soft fabric beneath him. He wanted very much to get this information out of Draco. He was dying to know so many things, to get the details of what they should be doing, but most of all, he wanted to know if he loved him.

Had he said that? Had he meant it or was it just something he'd said out of an emergency?

As Harry lay there with his arms crossed under his cheek, he heard Draco pop a top and while that might've been cause for alarm, Harry didn't bother to look as he was caught up in his own thoughts about Draco and how they were going to get out of this. They hadn't officially heard from the Yakuza, the other Yojimbo, not even Mifune had tried to make contact. This worried Harry. It probably meant that they intended to murder Draco. He couldn't let that happen. Whether he and Draco were... whatever they were... he couldn't let him die without proof. He also needed to figure out what Percy Weasley's bid to become the Minister for Magic had to do with it, although he was afraid that tie was painfully obvious.

What they-- Harry and Draco-- needed to do was talk, Harry decided and he was just about to turn his head to tell Draco that when he felt his cheeks parted and a long slow tongue slid between the cheeks.

In response, Harry was left hiding his face against his arms to muffle his loud, "Oooooh..."

It felt incredible. Like an incredibly warm soft thing sliding between your cheeks, slickly teasing a part of your body that normally saw little interest or care. It felt thick and lush and incredibly tender. Harry's toes curled and he brought his legs up on either side of him like a frog, opening him up further so that Draco could properly eat him.

Pressing both hands under Harry's arse, he moved him up a bit, sucking the spot just under his hole, between his balls and opening, finding that spot sensitive enough that Harry was left breathing in awkward squeaks as he froze to the bed, gripping it tightly at the sudden influx of nervous pleasure sensations overwhelming him.

Draco backed off enough to give it a milder touch at more of a rhythm before slicking up his fingers with a quick incantation. He slipped one hand under Harry's body, wrapping his fingers under his cock and then moved two fingers inside of Harry's opening.

Harry's back rippled as he writhed against the bed under Draco who was kissing the back of his neck, leaving soft, tender bruises. When he managed a third finger, Draco's lips were flushed red from pulling more love bites to Harry's shoulders.

Already Harry was humping the bed, rocking up on his knees begging for penetration. "More," he whispered to Draco, looking over his shoulder with perfect lust and trust, feeling need. He wanted Draco inside of him. It didn't have much to do with a ritual, or rites, other than ones they'd just made up. This was because Harry wanted to be connected to Draco and because Draco wanted to be part of him.

Draco lined up with him with shaking hands. Harry assumed this was because Draco had only done this once and he was unconscious halfway through it. Harry was trembling as well, but he trusted Draco-- trusted him with everything, including his body. He wanted him inside of him, to fill him, to be part of him in a way no one else had.

It took longer than he would've thought for Draco to feed his cock into him, leaving him to wonder just how big Draco was. It ached a little, but it didn't hurt. He just felt stretched. Stretched around Draco. His Draco. His partner. Another little part of him seemed to break as Draco closed in on top of him, stretching them down over the soft bed.

He grabbed Harry's hands, pressing those to the mattress beneath them as well. They rocked there for a few minutes, Draco slowly sliding in and out of him, Harry wincing now and then as a new angle caused discomfort and gasping when Draco found the right spot.

Once Draco found it, his body locked into position and he held one of Harry's hands, balancing on it and driving it into the mattress as the other moved around Harry to grab his cock as Draco moved with an increasing pace inside of him.

He spoke in strange incantations, whispering the words that Harry recognized from the Fidelius Spell. Casting the spell from inside of him. It made their bodies vibrate, adding a swirl and thrill of magic to their lovemaking. Harry would be the Secret Keeper. He felt the magic sew from Draco's wand and encapsulate them both. The white light emanated around them, tightening and suffocating them.

Still Draco didn't stop moving. He kissed Harry's back, nibbling his ear as he rocked easily in and out of him, his hand still thrumming over Harry's cock until the spell expanded over the entire house, building with a growing hum.

It felt as if they were in a giant bubble that was inflating with more and more air, building the warm pressure of the magic, finding all of the nooks and crannies that needed never see the light of day, but needed the magical protection.

It built and built, so shimmering, so white and pure with Draco still sliding into him, his hand still gripped around him. All of his nerves were on edge and he held his breath until that flash of the moment where white turned silver and then black as night, exploding in the room, pulling their simultaneous orgasms out of them as they were left groaning and panting on top of each other in total blackness.

After a beat, the room started to lighten again, slowly, leaving the two dewy bodies entwined on top of the covers, cooling and spent in their new safe house. The only members of the Order of the Dragon: Harry and Draco, now conveniently located (if you could find it) at twelve Grimmauld Place.

They'd done it!

As excited as they were, however, they decided now was a time for a proper nap.

Which would've been great, had Ron Weasley not been on his way to Grimmauld to meet with Harry when the spell had been cast. As it was, he was stuck in the Floo that he shouldn't have been on his way to, quite ticked for the inconvenience.

"HARRRY!! HARRY POTTER!!!! GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!"

Harry looked at Draco for help. Draco rolled his eyes and slid off of Harry, looking bored and more than a little put out.

"We need to get him out of there, how do we do that?" asked Harry.

Draco rolled over on the side of the bed and threw clothes at Harry.

"Put something on," said Draco, waiting for Harry to do so.

He stood and messed Harry's hair while Ron screamed for help, smirking prattishly as Harry became agitated.

"And?" asked Harry as he slapped Draco's hands away from his hair and pulled his trousers on. Draco pulled the t-shirt over Harry's head, leaving him to sort his arms through the holes.

"And tell him the new address, you're the Secret Keeper, you berk," said Draco before he flopped back onto the bed.

Mrs Black joined in the chorus of angry voices downstairs and Harry glared at Draco's disconnected sense of morality as he rolled under the covers. "Malfoy..."

"Do see that they all shut up. Had a brilliant shag, can't keep my eyes open," he said, over his shoulder as he pulled the covers up.

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to slap him or kiss him, but Ron was screaming, so he decided he needed to tend to that situation first. He headed down the flights of stairs at double-pace, matching the frantic beating of his heart.

"The Order of the Dragon is at twelve Grimmauld Place, Ron," Harry called into the Floo before helping Ron out and dusting him off.

Ron looked disoriented so Harry got him some tea and sat him down in the basement kitchen-- the further away from Draco, probably the better.

"Harry. Harry... they have... they have Hermione!"

There was a loud banging that sounded like several elephants rolling down two flights of stairs and then Draco was standing at the foot of the basement stairs wrapped up in a petal pink sheet flushed and flustered.

Ron looked between Harry and Draco with a quick glare. It was quiet testimony to how upset Ron was that he didn't take the mickey out of Draco for the pink robe.

"Who has Hermione?" asked Harry.

When Ron spoke, Harry realized how red his eyes were, how pale and drawn he looked. Even his red hair seemed to have lost its luster.

"These South-East Asian men-- one of them was a vampire, I think. A real vampire! They took her. I was in for my check up for my teeth and.... We have to get her back! She doesn't know anything about this world!" Ron exclaimed.

Draco looked between the two and nodded slowly. "Mr Mifune will get his meeting with Ryuu. I will... set it up."

"What? Draco!" said Harry. Ron said nothing, but stared at the table as if this were what he'd anticipated hearing. "You can't. We'll work it out through the Ministry. I'll go tomorrow and get it fixed. They'd just... no, Draco, you stay here."

"Harry, what can you do?" asked Draco. He glared at him while Ron just looked confused that neither of them seemed utterly shocked that a pair South-East Asians would attack Hermione Granger out of nowhere.

Harry looked between Ron and Draco. "Just a day. Give me a day. I'll figure something out."

Ron looked at Draco, who looked away.

"A day. All right. I guess... a day. What should I... do?" asked Ron, looking around wildly.

"We'll go to the Ministry and see about this," Harry said to Ron. He looked over at Draco whose gaze seem fixed on some indecipherable point in the distance. "Draco? A day? Will you give me that much?"

Draco nodded, but Harry wasn't really foolish enough to believe it. "Your word, Draco. Give me your word you won't do anything until I've had a day."

Looking right at him, Draco said sternly, "A day. And then I'm going to finish this."

The words were ice in the pit of Harry's stomach. They sounded so final and determined-- like he'd sounded before he ended Voldemort. It filled him with dread and worry, but there was nothing for it. The clock was ticking. He could only pray that giving one's word meant the same thing to a Gryffindor as it did a Slytherin.

After an awkward pause, Harry glanced to Ron who nodded and turned his back so Harry could kiss Draco deeply. He gazed into his eyes after the kiss, stroking Draco's soft cheek. "I'll be back. Wait for me."

Draco's face was impassive and he said nothing. Harry prayed it meant agreement and slipped away to Floo to the Ministry.