Renaissance

A/N: This chapter does continue from the last, but does not resolve the cliff-hanger, don’t worry you’ll know how and why Draco disappears soon enough, just consider this an interlude in the week that follows that last meeting. Again my thanks to the wonderful and talented Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-reading. Warning: This chapter is one whose contents earn this story its adult rating. If you are not interested in reading such content please skip the very last segment.

And I am just overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter. Thank you all so very much!

Last note: The cercis is also known as the Judas tree because it’s supposedly the kind of tree Judas hung himself from.
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15.

Now that they knew Judas Iscariot was out there and had accessed his magical signature, the Aurors, especially Harry, were both amazed and dismayed at how frequently their Signatuses pinged his presence around Heritage House. Two days into Operation Cercis (a morbid reference—courtesy of Seamus’ macabre sense of humour—to the disciple’s suicide and the inference that this plan would be the means by which their Judas Iscariot would hang himself) Harry was a wreck. Every time a positive hit registered on a Signatus he fought down the urge to Apparate to Draco’s side and spirit the mage away to safety.

“You really should stop worrying, Harry,” Tonks told him as he tried to cover suddenly jerking to his feet as merely a desire to stretch his legs. It was the sixth time he’d done it in the last two hours and by now the ploy was abysmally transparent. “Sie can take care of hirself; always has done,” she added with a bitter twist.

Harry looked askance at his friend, who ducked her head and turned away. “Sorry,” she muttered.

It was the first time in a while that he’d been alone with the Metamorphmagus and he thought now was a good a time as any to clear the air. Tonks had been off-kilter for a while, he’d noticed. Her usually unruly hair had been cut and styled into a conservative bob that was usually a mousy brown these days instead of the riotous shock of colour she was known for. Even the loud, garish shirts that clashed horribly with her navy Auror robes had been replaced by subdued white or ivory blouses. He’d meant to pull her aside long before now but hadn’t found the time. Feeling a bit guilty for being a poor friend, Harry crouched down beside her chair in the makeshift operations station they’d set up in the orphanage’s attic.

“Tonks, is something the matter? You’ve been...I don’t know...you seem not quite yourself lately.”

She shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. “Nice of you to notice, Harry. I guess the world doesn’t begin and end with Draco sodding Malfoy after all.”

Harry leaned back on his haunches. “Well. That’s me told.” He blinked in surprise. He’d never known the usually even-tempered woman to sound so venomous. “I-I’m not sure where that’s come from, but all this with you lately—the hair, the clothes—what’s it to do with Draco?”

Tonks sighed. “Never mind, Harry. You wouldn’t understand; you’re just as dazzled by hir as everyone else.”

Harry reached out and took Tonks’ hand. He felt that contact between them was really important right now; even if he didn’t quite understand the impulse, he didn’t question it. “Tonks, if there’s something—look, I love hir, sure, but I’m not blind to hir faults; no less than sie’s blind to mine. If Draco’s done something—I mean, I love you—erm...you know what I mean. You’re my friend and I love you and I want to help if something’s wrong. Did—did Draco do something?” The question was tentative. Harry wasn’t sure where Tonks’ anger was coming from and he seriously doubted his lover was responsible for any injury to her, but he couldn’t think of another way to draw her out if she was so fixed on Draco being a problem.

“When isn’t precious Draco doing something, Harry?” Tonks spat. “Look, just forget it. I’m fine. No worries about the new look. I’m just trying to make sure the right people notice that I’ve matured. Can’t be the chirpy, pink-haired punk forever, now can I?

“I’m tired of being overlooked, Harry. I’ve a decade of seniority on you and I’ll wager I didn’t even make Kingsley’s short list for task force leader. I just want to be taken seriously, not treated like everyone’s clumsy kid sister ‘til I retire.”

Harry shook his head at the self-doubt in her voice. “Tonks, you are taken seriously,” he said softly. “You’re a highly decorated Senior Auror; you’ve loads of field experience from the war and after. I for one have always looked up to you—”

The older woman raised her hands tiredly. “Just stop, Harry; I don’t need a pep talk. Just—you wanted to know so I told you, that’s all.” She stood up and moved into a window alcove; though she held herself rigidly, weariness wafted from her, and to Harry it seemed she was more than just subdued these days. The usually vibrant woman seemed washed-out—she was diminished, he realised, faded as much as her hair and clothes. It saddened him.

“When you want to talk, Tonks, I’ll be here to listen.”

She didn’t answer.

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As they walked from the Apparation point to the cottage that night, Harry asked Draco if sie knew what might be troubling hir cousin. “I can’t think of anything at the moment,” sie replied, pulling Harry’s arm more firmly around hir shoulders even as sie tucked closer into his side. “Neither Remus nor Aunt Andy have mentioned recent difficulties. I’ve never been close to Nymphadora, Harry. She’s never had much use for me; even after Aunt and I reconciled during the war she remained standoffish. I could make some discreet inquiries if you’d like,” sie offered.

Harry pressed a kiss into the chilled strands of hir fine hair. “You need a hat; and thank you for offering, love, but no. If something was seriously wrong and she wanted my help she’d tell me, we’re good enough friends for that. And if it’s just something she needs a little time and space to work out for herself I don’t want to pry.”

They stopped at the hedge that encircled the cottage and Draco lowered the wards. Sie paused before sie stepped through the door. “If that’s what you want. But I don’t like that she’s caused you such bother.” Sie smoothed hir fingers over the crease between Harry’s eyebrows. “It’s given you worry lines.”

Harry captured the slender fingers in his own and kissed their tips. “You give me worry lines. You’re a trouble magnet, Draco Malfoy,” he said lightly. “I’ve always thought so.”

A pale brow rose. “Have you, now?”

The tip of Harry’s tongue darted from between his lips, capturing tiny samples of salt from Draco’s skin. “Mm-hmm, from the first time I ever saw you,” he breathed.

Draco curled hir bottom lip under hir pearly teeth; hir breath hitched and just as sie opened hir mouth to speak—

“In that case, Harry Potter, you are trouble with a capital T! Now get in here, the both of you, before you catch your deaths!” Helene snapped from the open doorway, hand on her hip and foot tapping.

Draco dropped hir head heavily and cursed. My sentiments exactly. Harry stepped back and rubbed his fingers over his forehead in an effort to keep from glaring at his lover’s housekeeper.

“I thought you were going to call to say we’d be late for supper,” Draco whispered.

“I was...busy?” Harry whispered back with a sheepish shrug.

Draco’s shoulders rose and fell with hir sigh. “I’ll have you know, Potter, that housekeepers of Helene’s calibre are near impossible to find. At the moment I’d say the woman has incredibly bad timing; nonetheless she is a treasure. You lose me my housekeeper and I promise you’ll come to regret it.” Draco’s eyes glinted with amusement as a finger rose to poke Harry between the ribs.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Harry sighed playfully and ushered his lover inside. “And so will my children and my children’s children in perpetuity,” he joked, remembering Draco’s admonishments on his first day at Renaissance Foundation.

His lover rolled hir eyes, also remembering, and backhanded Harry’s stomach. “Prat.”

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The next day was a better one for Harry; he was part of Draco’s visible protection detail so he shadowed the mage all through the day as he had in the days before Leslie Redbank’s murder. The Auror was amazed at how well the young mogul had adjusted to the small office set aside for hir use at Heritage House, though knowing how adaptable Draco tended to be, Harry supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Draco relied heavily on hir executive secretary to smooth the transition, and Mark Allenby was shuttled back and forth to the sprawling office at Renaissance Foundation several times a day, but really they’d made themselves at home in the cosy space quite quickly. Draco laughed when Harry brought it up.

“The place definitely has its compensations.” Sie’d waved at the windows, the motion encompassing a view of the grounds below where a cluster of children too young to attend Heritage Academy were playing. “It’s a joy to be able to spend some time with my angels every day. But in general why would I limit myself? There’s no point in making do with a smaller office.” Sie raised hir left shoulder slightly in an elegant shrug. “I don’t want to and I shouldn’t have to.”

Harry shook his head. “You are so spoiled,” he smiled, bemused. “You know it’s that very attitude of ‘I want what I want when I want it and I’m entitled to have it’ that put me off when we first met.” Looking back now Harry could see the humour of it, and his rich voice carried its shades. “You reminded me so much of my cousin Dudley.”

Draco looked up from the quarterly projections and crinkled hir nose. “That gelatinous oaf from the picture you showed Anna?” Sie was aghast. “However did you manage such a comparison, Potter? Granted, those NHS glasses you wore then were atrocious, but I didn’t think your eyesight was so very poor. How in Merlin’s name did you make it onto Gryffindor’s Quidditch team?”

Harry’s lips twisted. “I didn’t mean physically, you prat. Your attitudes were similar back then; I thought so, anyway.”

“Hrmph.” Draco scrolled to the next page of the report and scanned it. Nimble fingers flew over hir Orb keyboard in the next moment. “I was perhaps a mite spoiled then. Mother rather indulged her only child,” sie admitted as sie continued to type, “but I learned early on that while a Malfoy should always expect the best, one only receives what they have earned. I deserve what I have and what I want because I am the best, Potter. And I have worked very hard to be so,” sie added with a sniff, scrolling through the next screen.

Harry hadn’t much to say to that, so instead he leaned down and pressed a kiss into Draco’s silken hair. He loved the feel of the soft locks against his lips and the scent that filled his nose when he laid his face against hir head. It had quickly become one of Harry’s favourite things to do. “As you say,” he murmured.

“I certainly do.” Draco split the Orb projection screen so the initial operations report, hir notes, and a third, blank text document were now open and floating in front of hir. Pulling another keyboard forward as though sie had the need to prove hir claim, sie set each hand to work on the separate projects simultaneously. Harry stepped back; knowing it would be a while before Draco surfaced again, now that hir concentration was more fully engaged, he returned to his seat near the fireplace to enjoy the sight of a different kind of artisan at work. Draco’s hands move fluidly, like a pianist whose composition featured bass and treble lines with disparate tempos.

Mark came through the Floo then, his arms full of printed scrolls from the consoles at the main office. “Place the advance miniOrb schematics on the work table; the Heritage Youth Summer Excursion grant applications in the Urgent tray; and I’ll need your summary of today’s correspondence after you fix me a cup of tea, Mark. Thank you,” Draco greeted the man, not missing a beat and without shifting hir eyes from the projection screens.

The older man, looking smart as ever, shared a brief smile with Harry. “You’d think I’d be used to it after all this time, but every now and again I’m just amazed. I’ve never known anyone able to split their attention and multi-task as efficiently as sie does.”

“I know,” Harry agreed, wonder thick in his voice. “Sie types faster with one hand than most people do with two.”

A small snort carried over the sound of clicking keys. “While I appreciate your admiration of my clerical skills, gentlemen, I’d remind you that I am merely occupied, not deaf. Now Mark, my tea, if you’d be so kind? And Potter, I’ve seen you type. It’s no wonder I amaze you, considering the two-fingered hunt-and-peck method you employ.” Draco looked away from the projections for a moment to spare the Auror a flirty wink and a cheeky smile.

While Mark laid out the new materials as directed, Harry took it upon himself to fix Draco’s tea. When the cup of smoky Oolong was ready he set the filled feather-thin porcelain cup and saucer beside Draco’s elbow as he’d seen Mark do countless times (some days it seemed the mage survived on tea alone). “Thank you, Harry,” the triarii murmured with genuine appreciation, though sie continued working. No reply was needed. Harry knew Draco was back in hir “zone” and would break only when sie was ready, though it wouldn’t be too much longer; Draco hated tepid tea. He leaned back against the wall behind Draco’s desk and waited.

A minute or so later the mage finished hir left hand’s document with a flourish of fingers. Sie reached over hir still-moving right hand and lifted the cup. “You still need lunch, you know,” Harry interrupted.

“I know,” sie answered, sipping gingerly at hir still-steaming tea. “I suspect Marie will send angels to fetch me at half noon. It’s chicken and ham pie today, and for some odd reason the children have decided it’s my favourite food.” Sie grimaced and shuddered delicately. “As if—but they’ll not be gainsaid. I will admit, though, Cook has managed uncommonly well; the complexity added by the leeks and nutmeg make an utterly plebeian dish passable, not that the children have any true appreciation of it. The most they’ll say is ‘it’s good,’” sie squeaked mimicking a child’s timbre; then lamented, “Subtle flavour is completely lost on a child’s palate.”

Harry bit the corner of his lip as Draco’s diatribe petered out, and glanced at Mark. “Leeks and nutmeg?” he mouthed.

The secretary shrugged. “It’s good!” He mouthed back with a wink.

Harry coughed to cover his aborted laughter and decided he needed his own cup of tea. He raised the pot and, when Mark nodded, poured for two. As he handed it over they shared another smile. The two of them had once commiserated over Draco’s refined tastes. Oh, simple meals were standard at home, but at the office and while dining out the Malfoy training was in evidence. Mark, having come from hearty Lancastershire stock, had grown up on working-man’s fare and had had as difficult a time as Harry adjusting to the pretentious, chi-chi finger foods Draco picked at during the day. Harry also knew today’s luncheon menu was the result of Mark’s secret meeting with the excited children of Heritage House, who wanted a list of Draco’s favourite things to prepare for the temporary relocation of their benefactor’s office, a list which read more like a list of Mark’s favourite things. Not that Harry’d ever tell.

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Lunch was a treat—suggestions were being taken for the Yule holiday decorations and the children’s party. Laughter rang through the dining hall as more and more outlandish ideas were bandied about, the suggestions limited only by the children’s imaginations.

Afterwards Harry and Draco joined in the day’s flying lessons—a kind of mobile levitating obstacle course designed to improve hand/eye coordination and agility. As an extra challenge, Bludgers were released when the adults took the field, and Harry was truly surprised by how hard he’d worked to keep his seat. He made a mental note to suggest a similar course be implemented at the Auror Academy. He had fun but remained alert and watchful; if he was ever tempted to relax his vigilance he need only think of the Signatus in his pocket that had pinged over ten times that day, or look over at Draco’s joyous smiling face to remember the high price to be paid for his distraction.

All in all, though, it had been a fantastic day. They’d made their way home without incident and enjoyed the hearty rabbit stew Helene served for supper with crusty bread still piping from the oven. Conversation over supper was light; Harry and Draco recounted some of the children’s antics from the day and Draco passed on a request from the orphanage’s director asking Helene and Lars to come help set up the holiday decorations and assist with the preparations for the children’s party as they had in years prior. Of course the American transplants agreed and Helene reminded their friend of the things they’d need on hand while they helped Marie and the rest of the orphanage staff pull everything together.

After supper Harry offered to wash dishes as Draco and Lars cleared the table, but Helene brushed him off as usual, then actually shooed them all out so she could “finish cleaning up”. Draco tugged Harry away laughing, explaining as they mounted the stairs that tonight Orb 37 (otherwise known as The SoapBox) was running a marathon of the previous week’s Whimsic Alley airings. Though Helene often complained about the overly-convoluted plots, the ridiculous melodrama, the vapid, heavily made-up actresses, and their male counterparts who were either irredeemable bad boys or heroic paragons, she was hooked on the programme. She was too busy during the day to stop for the original broadcasts, but Draco had noticed that she’d yet to miss a rerun marathon once sie’d had a small Orb console installed in the kitchen. Sie guessed hir friend was just embarrassed about her devotion to the hit soap opera and chased them away to be spared some well-deserved (given her vociferous complaints) ribbing. “So that’s Helene sorted, and Lars will likely spend the evening whittling. Yule gifts are always handmade. And that leaves us the evening free. Whatever shall we do to occupy ourselves, Mr. Potter?”

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With a swiftness and strength belied by hir size, Draco swung Harry through and against the guestroom door in one quick move, then stretched up on hir toes and covered Harry’s mouth with hir own. Stunned at the suddenness of hir assault, Harry gasped; and as his mouth hung slightly open, Draco pressed hir advantage, plunging into the moist cavern with hir tongue to find hir lover recovered enough that Harry’s tongue was now eagerly reaching out to duel. Tingling warmth spread through Harry’s palms and shot up his arms as he reached around to bring Draco closer and tried to crawl down hir throat.

Draco broke away, turning hir head slightly to one side to catch hir breath probably, but Harry couldn’t let hir get away now; he lifted a hand to the back of hir head, spreading his fingers wide to hold it place. Luscious heat curled within his belly...it was hot, and so good, but it wasn’t enough. Harry pivoted when Draco broke away again, and reversed their positions; he tore at the clasps that held Draco’s robe closed, heedless of their fine make or the rich fabric. Gaining purchase, he ripped the garment open and stroked his thumbs against the slighter mage’s clavicles as he pushed the robe over hir shoulders.

Draco was moaning now and Harry’s mouth worked to capture every one of the delicious sounds. Skin and sweat and hot and so good. Harry moaned and licked a long line down Draco’s jaw and further to suck on hir neck. “Harry, gods, Harry,” Draco whimpered, locking hir fingers in Harry’s dampening hair to hold him in the sensitive spot below hir ear. “There, yes...” sie hissed as Harry worked the tender flesh between his teeth. Draco bucked against him and Harry drew his hands up from hir waist to the fastening of the moulded breast band sie’d worn under hir clothes.

Draco wrenched away, slamming hir head back against the door. “W-wait!” Sie held Harry still as hir chest heaved, drawing in much-needed air. When the sizzling haze between them had cleared a little Draco stepped out of hir pants and ruined robes, then pushed and tugged Harry across the room until he fell back onto the bed. Sie climbed over him and with a quick flick and murmured word the Auror robes were gone, leaving Harry in just his trousers.

Harry rolled them over and kissed Draco again as he carefully unlatched the breast band’s hook-and-eye closures. The lustful frenzy that had overcome them at the door had passed into something gentler. With the desperate edge gone, Harry slowed the pace of their lovemaking. These kisses were deliberate and deep and wet at first, languorous, and he took his time exploring Draco’s mouth with his questing tongue. As the band fell away Harry pulled away and leisurely made his way down the pointed chin and graceful neck, licking and nipping as Draco breathed hard. He paused in the hollow at the base of hir throat, licking away the sweat pooled there. Draco moaned, arching up into Harry’s hand. He did not move his mouth from the fragile skin but caressed Draco more firmly, meeting hir need for greater sensation by running his thumb over the curve of hir bared upper breast to hir nipple, lazily rolling the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger until Draco shuddered and clutched at the caps of his broad shoulders. “Don’ tease...” A helpless whine passed between hir lips as Draco tensed against him.

"Shh...it’s all right, love.” Harry nuzzled the valley between hir breasts, then turned his head and sucked and kissed the soft mound. He sealed his mouth over the rosy areola and flicked his tongue over the pebbled nipple. Draco keened and reached for hir straining erection, but Harry batted hir hand away. “Patience,” he growled, then lifted his head to meet the grey glare so darkened with lust that the line between pupil and iris was nearly indistinguishable. “Let me take care of you.” The world stopped for a moment as Draco worried hir swollen lip between small, even teeth. When sie finally gave a brief, hesitant nod, Harry again lowered his head, this time taking the nipple gently between his lips.

Draco moaned and tangled hir fingers in the silken tangle of Harry’s dark hair, just holding; there was no pressure to bring him harder against hir breasts as he kneaded and suckled at one, then the other, lavishing each with attention in alternating turns. Harry might have been content to savour hir breasts all night, Draco was so wonderfully sensitive. He wondered for a fleeting moment if he might bring the triarii to orgasm through nipple play alone. That was for another time, though; tonight a feast had been laid before him and Harry intended to sample more of what there was on offer.

He nibbled and nuzzled down the willowy body, pausing to trace his tongue over the faint outline of hir ribs and rim hir navel before rubbing his scratchy chin against Draco’s belly. He loved the contrasts of tones and textures between them, that Draco was so fair compared to his own deeper olive hue; sie soft and smooth where his own skin was rougher, his body hairier. Ignoring Draco’s weeping length for now, Harry stroked his hands up and down hir thighs and cupped hir small, tight balls in his hand, gently massaging them. He rested his face in the juncture between hip and thigh, filling his nostrils with the unique tang of Draco’s arousal, both sweet and heady, male and female scents combined. He slid down further, pushing Draco’s thighs wide, and pressed his face into the space between the triarii’s legs, angling his tongue up into the wet heat. Draco groaned and shuddered as the agile muscle smoothed against the slick folds of hir body. Then Harry flicked that wicked tongue against hir clit and Draco shrieked and clutched wildly at Harry’s head. Harry chuckled and went at it again as he engaged the artistry of his brand of multi-tasking, wrapping a strong, firm hand around Draco’s length and pumping in counterpoint to his tongue’s movement.

Draco babbled and sobbed and beat the bed as Harry, filled with a primal sort of masculine pride in bringing his lover to incoherence, pulled back. For a brief moment he admired the sight of Draco so close to flying apart and hir hand sliding faster over the turgid length. Then Harry leaned up and drew the head of Draco’s cock into his mouth, sucked that much harder as he slipped two fingers of his free hand into the sweet slickness his mouth had abandoned. “Oh gods, Harry! S’good, s’good...MORE!” Draco begged, writhing. Harry smoothed his fingers against the pulsing walls and rubbed the spot just behind Draco’s balls with the tip of his thumb, and sie was done. Screaming his name, Draco convulsed violently; pulses of warm fluid jetted into Harry’s mouth and poured over his fingers. Harry rode out the aftershocks and swallowed hir down, gentling and soothing as slight tremors continued to wrack the lithe body. He scooted up the bed and drew Draco into his arms when sie’d finally stilled. A slender, trembling hand rose and pushed his sweaty fringe from his face. “That was...I’ve never felt anything so good,” Draco whispered, hir voice hoarse.

For long moments Harry just held hir eyes; the grey depths were shimmering and so beautiful he would willingly drown in them. “It gets better,” he said lightly, his own eyes shining with love. “Gods, Draco, I—”

Those long fingers stretched down from his brow and gently covered his lips. “I know, Harry. I feel the same.” Harry dropped his head into Draco’s neck and just tried to breathe. He’d never felt so powerful, or triumphant, or complete...it was a bit overwhelming. “Harry? You didn’t—we should—”

The dark-haired man sighed and stretched his leg over his lover so sie could feel his sticky, quiescent manhood for hirself. “What can I say, love? You do it for me.” He barely registered the tingle of cleaning magic or the blond’s faint snort and the mumbled, “So eloquent, Potter,” before he succumbed to his fatigue.


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Triarii-specific Terminology:
Vamar: Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam
Veru: Triarii spouse


Chapter 14 Review Responses
Thank you, really, so very much for the reviews!

Dezra: That would be nice, but those nervous knots are so much fun, and just coz I’m so nice, I’ll let you keep them for a little while longer. (grin)

Jeanne: Would that there were some such super shield, ‘fraid not though. Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait a little longer to find out what happens, hopefully you’ll consider this chapter adequate compensation (g)! Did you finish your haiku? Inquiring minds wanna know!

poohbear74: You’re quite welcome and thank you!

applesauce_N_soysauce: They certainly do get into a lot of things…mouths and other orifices included, but that’s not trouble (or at least I hope it isn’t!) Trouble is on its way soon enough though…

qwerty: Thank you! I didn’t mean to be evil (much), but it looks like you’ve a short wait yet, sorry…erm, okay not really, but I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter anyway! (grin)

Justmine25: I guess I’m lucky you can’t hurl projectiles online otherwise I’d be ducking…doncha just love dangling suspense (hee hee)!

thrnbrooke: Done! (g) Always, thank you.

Constantine Voss: Thank you so much for such your thoughtful and thorough review! I really do appreciate it, such comments are very encouraging and motivating. Anne’s story will unfold soon, and perhaps you’ll be proven right, but you’ll just have to wait and see (g)! And again, thank you!