The Iridescent Conclusion

It was late – almost midnight when a sound woke Severus from his sleep. Harry lay beside him, sound asleep with his hand resting on Sev’s chest; the sound hadn’t come from him.

Then Sev heard the creak of a stair and realised that Draco was up and about. He lay very still, listening and thinking before sending out the quiet thought, ‘Are you all right? Do you need anything?’

No words came back to him but he felt a wave of emotions from his ward: chagrin at waking Severus; a sense of loss so profound it almost made the Potions master cry out; a curl of irritation; as well as the painful ache that he’d glimpsed at dinner.

Carefully moving his lover’s hand onto the pillow, the Potions master slipped out of bed and pulled a robe on to cover his bare chest, before moving to follow Draco downstairs.

When he reached the drawing room, he found the young man standing before the tall French windows that looked out to the neglected garden.

“Draco?” he murmured, stepping closer, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

‘Nothing.’ The young man’s voice whispered within his head, ‘I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to bed.’

“I would,” Sev replied, “if I didn’t think you needed to talk. You’re in pain; I saw your face at the dinner table – when Harry said -”

‘I recall what Harry said!’ Draco snapped, ‘And I know he didn’t mean it maliciously – sometimes he’s just clumsy with words – but…ah!’ He sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the cold glass of the doors.

“He loves you too, you know.” Severus said quietly, feeling awkward.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Draco murmured, “and it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve got Greg.’

“But Greg isn’t Harry,” Sev shook his head and then came to a sudden realisation. “But that’s the whole point, isn’t it?” he asked, moving around to look at his ward’s profile, “You’re suddenly afraid that Harry can hurt you and so -”

‘Harry already bloody hurt me,’ Draco snarled in response and then closed his eyes, wishing he hadn’t said that.

Sev sighed very sadly and pulled Draco around before gently enfolding him in a hug.

‘Don’t…’

“Ssh…”

‘You can’t just…’ Draco fought against him for a moment, pushing ineffectively against the man’s chest. Then, suddenly, all the fight went out of him and he drew a muffled sigh that sounded suspiciously like a sob and pressed close, sliding his arms around Sev’s strong body.

With a shaky breath, Severus rested his chin on top of Draco’s pale blond head and sent out a brief, searching thought. Above them, Harry was still asleep.

‘I don’t want him to know,’ Draco said, thinking of Harry. ‘If he knows how I feel he’ll just be confused and that’s no good for anyone.’

‘But you’re in pain,’ Sev objected, speaking silently too. Making a decision and firmly closing the door on his own hammering heart, he then said, ‘You should talk to Harry and…and see if you can get back together.’

In response, Draco lifted his head and regarded his guardian with unreadable eyes for a long minute. Then, very softly, he pressed a kiss against Sev’s mouth before stepping back.

‘Thank you,’ he smiled wanly, ‘but it won’t work. I can’t risk…’ he paused and shook his head.

“You can’t risk being hurt again? Draco, this is real life; people fall in love and get hurt all the time. You can’t deny yourself for the risk that you might get your heart broken.” Sev reasoned in a low voice.

‘There’s Greg to consider in all this,’ Draco continued as if Severus hadn’t said anything. ‘And besides,’ he placed one hand flat on the man’s chest, ‘you love him so much. And he needs you as much as you need him.’ The young man’s eyes were so full of pain and silent entreaty that Sev found himself torn in two.

“‘No gentle winds, seek not my heart, for simply...it has torn apart.’” He whispered the quotation.

But Draco was shaking his head, ‘Don’t do this.’ He implored, ‘Please, Sev, I love you too and I can’t let you make this sacrifice -’

‘Don’t make me sound like a bloody martyr, Draco – please!’ Severus snarled. He frowned then, knowing deep down that his ward was right and yet it seemed so wrong that Draco should feel so shut out and lost…

Making his mind up in a second, Sev reached out then, took the young man’s hand and led him unresisting back towards the stairs.

‘Wait…are you sure?’ Draco asked hesitantly, having shared Sev’s thoughts.

“I’m sure. You need to be included more. Harry loves you, I love you, the bed is easily big enough to take an entire Quidditch team – it can certainly cope with us three, as we proved last night.” Severus whispered, heading up the stairs.

‘And this is just for sleep…right?’ Draco asked, sounding a little wary.

The light from the landing window caught the Potion master’s smirk. “So nervous?” he whispered over his shoulder, “Not so long ago, you were seriously gunning for a threesome as I remember.”

And that quelled the blond youth. Although not for long:

‘Just how many Quidditch teams have you ever shared your bed with?’ he grinned.

But then, following his guardian into his bedroom, he paused momentarily to gaze in silent adoration at Harry’s sleeping form. He was beautiful; Draco thought wistfully: all that dark untidy hair, long black eyelashes and pale, creamy skin.

He gave a little sigh and then slid into bed on Severus’ other side. Harry, disturbed slightly by the movement of the mattress and duvet, shifted with a tiny discontented whimper and then curled in against his lover’s side. Draco and Severus exchanged identical looks of amused affection and then the Potions master accepted his ward under his arm.

And finally, on the very start of Christmas day, Severus went back to sleep with Harry curled against him on one side and Draco curled in against the other.

*~*~*

“Listen to me,” Lucius breathed very softly, standing by the kitchen door and speaking to the two shadowed figures currently standing just beyond the light being cast across the courtyard. “I want you to wait for the pulse of magic and then follow its course. Once you’ve pinpointed the location, come back. Do not,” he emphasised, “try to take the house alone. Quite apart from anything else, I don’t want to disturb them just yet. They’ve only just fled to this new location; therefore they’ll still be jumpy. Just find out where the spell goes and then report back to me. Is that clear?”

There was short, impatient sigh and then a voice complained, “Merlin’s bollocks, Lucius, we’re not stupid. If you say wait, we’ll wait. Easy. When are you going to cast this fucking spell?”

Lucius ground his teeth and gazed coldly into the darkness as if he could see right into the unseen man’s eyes. Finally, he regained his composure enough to growl, “Half an hour. Pay attention, do as I tell you or I will find you, Rabastan, and I’ll give you to the Dark Lord myself.”

There was a soft, vaguely mutinous rumble from the courtyard but Lucius chose to ignore it. Hearing footsteps within the house, he pushed the door shut, collected a tray of coffee and headed back out of the kitchen to where Daniel was looking for him.

“This house is enormous!” Daniel grinned, “Don’t you ever get lost?”

Lucius smiled warmly and gestured towards the nearest door with a nod of his head.

“Where’s your house-elf?” Daniel asked then, “Didn’t think you’d even know where the coffee was!”

“For your information,” the other man retorted archly, “it’s traditional for the house elves to take the night off on Christmas Eve. They go off and do their own thing until the morning when they reappear in time to make breakfast. And as for the coffee,” he finished, taking a seat, “I’ll have you know I’m familiar with every inch of this house. Nothing is ever hidden from me and there are never any secrets.” For a moment, his eyes were cold and flat but then the moment passed and he smiled, his eyes glittering at his lover, “Rather like you.”

“Me?” Daniel frowned over his coffee.

“Mm…I’m familiar with every inch of you. Nothing is hidden -”

“And there are no secrets.” Daniel finished, flushing very slightly. After all they done that day, both at his flat and here, in Lucius’ house, this was certainly true.

Lucius’ smile broadened into a wicked grin and he almost stalked across to where his lover sat, wanting to take him right there on the sofa. Daniel would look gorgeous spread decadently over the soft, black leather…

But there were other things to take care of first!

“Did you bring the presents down with you?” he asked then.

Daniel nodded and gestured to the assortment of bags. “Are you sure you can place them in the rucksack, though?” he asked, somewhat doubtfully. At Lucius’ amused glance, he flushed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to question your ability – I just haven’t heard of this sort of spell before.”

“It’s a variation of the Hunter spell,” Lucius explained and then, when the younger man’s eyes widened in shock, he shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that – I’m not going to open a vein. This spell will work by simply using a lock of your hair to trace the rucksack.”

“But it’s Dark magic,” Daniel responded in a hushed voice, “I thought…I mean, you said you weren’t into that anymore,”

“And I’m not,” lied Lucius smoothly. “I’m not a Death Eater anymore, but I can’t erase the knowledge from my own mind. And anyway,” he shrugged elegantly, “is it really Dark magic when we’re using it for such a good cause? I can guarantee that your nephew will like the toys and it’ll make Thomas happy too, won’t it?”

Daniel grinned and nodded with something akin to relief. If it had turned out that Lucius was still a Death Eater…well, he didn’t know quite what he would have done. The simple fact of the matter was that he loved Lucius and had loved him almost from the moment they’d met. Discovering that the man was part of a fanatic group led by one of the darkest wizards of all time would have just torn him apart. After all, you couldn’t help whom you fell in love with…
But this was all academic; Lucius had stated – more than once - that he wasn’t a Death Eater. And given all that he was doing for Daniel and his family, it was just plain rude to question him any further!

“Okay,” Daniel put down his coffee cup and reached for the bags, “tell me what to do.”

“Well, right now,” Lucius placed his cup and saucer beside Daniel’s, “you just need to sit very still.” And he got up, reaching into his pocket for a pair of scissors. Then, standing in front of his lover, he teased and lifted Daniel’s dark brown hair until he was able to snip just a small amount.

“There,” he smiled, “all done.”

Powerfully affected by having Lucius so close, let alone having him play with his hair, Daniel shifted uncomfortably before reaching up to wear the lock had been taken. “Did you leave a bald patch?” he asked without thinking.

“No, baby boy!” Lucius laughed, delighted, “As if I would!”

He took the two shopping bags from Daniel then and tipped the assortment of brightly coloured, mostly magical toys out on to the square, glass coffee table.

“Envett orlos nevyra a kra; ys e Daniel.” He chanted softly, smoothing the lock of silky hair between his fingers. He then repeated the spell and scattered the strands over the toys and watched as they faded from view, leaving only the hairs behind.

Lucius then strained his ears but could only hope that Rabastan and his accomplice had Disapparated after the spell.

“Is that it?” Daniel asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

Lucius nodded, returning his attention to the man before him.

“Oh,” Daniel looked momentarily disappointed, “I just thought we might actually see where they’re going to. I wanted to see Thomas,” he added softly.

A strange, alien emotion shivered across Lucius’ shoulders at these words. Thomas, of course, was dead; the news of his death had reached him minutes after the attack on Remus Lupin’s cottage in Cumbria. Until now, this knowledge hadn’t bothered Lucius. Until now, he’d never felt remorse or guilt or shame. Until now –

“Hey,” Daniel was suddenly standing in front of him, looking concerned – worried, even. “Are you okay? For a second there, you looked even paler than normal!”

But Lucius just shook his head, his platinum blond hair falling in lustrous sheet down his back. The alien emotions were gone, replaced by the familiar ache that always plagued him in Daniel's presence. At forty-eight, he was a little surprised to find that, with Daniel, he suddenly had a teenager’s libido - but who was he to knock back a good thing?

“I’m fine,” he murmured in a low voice and caressed his lover’s face; stroking from forehead to jaw with all four fingertips before caressing the kiss-bruised lower lip with his thumb. “I just don’t like it when you’re sad.”

“No, I’m okay,” Daniel hurried to reassure him, “I’m just…” he shrugged.

“I understand,” Lucius nodded gently and then stepped to close that final distance, looking down into Daniel’s soft, brown eyes. “Are you sure you want to be here with me, baby boy? There’s still time to go back and stay with your sister.”

“And with Jenna.” Daniel retorted irritably, “No thank you. No,” he purred then, sliding his hands around to caress Lucius’ back, “I’m happy here with you. Doing this,” he emphasised, dragging rounded fingernails up his lover’s back and making him arch into the touch with a heartfelt groan, “with you…to you.”

*~*~*

“Sirius,” the whisper slid over his ear in a warm, caressing breath.

“I’m awake,” he replied without opening his eyes.

“Excellent. Do you remember when we were still at school?” Remus murmured, pressing his long body in close behind Sirius’.

“Hmm…is this going to be one of those bizarre fantasy games where you pretend to be Dumbledore and I have to be someone in trouble?” Sirius asked, his voice drowsy. He opened his eyes then and looked over his shoulder, “I don’t think he’s ever spanked a student.” And then his eyes widened in horror, “Oh no! Don’t make me be Minerva.”

“No, Siri!” Remus rebuked and pinched his lover on the bottom, making him gasp and snigger, “Stop spoiling it.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius fought hard to keep from laughing again.

“What I was trying to do was to take your mind back to when we were in our sixth year – after we’d started going out but before James and Peter knew about us.”

“Oh,” Sirius rolled over and looked up into his lover’s bright, feral eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed, “I remember.”

“You remember how we’d wait until James started muttering in his sleep -?”

“And Peter would start snoring -”

“And then I’d slip into your bed,” Remus continued and slid a hand over Sirius’ chest, enjoying the feel of the other man’s pectoral muscles beneath his flat palm.

Sirius hissed as the fingers found his nipples and pinched none too gently.

“I’d do this,” Remus breathed, “and then I’d lick and kiss every inch of your chest,”

“I remember biting too,” Sirius urged, his breaths coming faster.

Remus did all that, working his way first across Sirius’ body in haphazard little rows of kisses, nips and long, slow licks. Then, crawling slowly up the bed once more, he gave him a long, drawn out and thoroughly explorative kiss before gradually progressing downwards again.

After reducing Sirius to squirming, gasping jelly, he then looked up at him from where he’d been tonguing the other man’s belly button. “And I’d only go on to remove your pyjama trousers when you were at the point of begging me,” he smirked. His eyes were dark with undisguised want and his breath huffed over the trail of dark hair that led downwards.

“You want me to beg?” Sirius panted, pushing his fingers into Remus’ hair, “Remus, do you know what you do to me? And how much I love you? I would give you…” he paused, his eyes scanning the room, “anything – ANYTHING – for you to take me into that beautiful mouth. Name it!”

But Remus just chuckled and slid his fingers under the elastic. “Siri, you’ve already given me all that I’ll ever want.” He smiled up at him. For a moment, his face turned serious and his eyes levelled with those of his lover, “You came back with me – through the veil – and you’re here and you love me. That’s all I’ll ever, ever want.”

In a smooth, fluid motion, Sirius sat up, drew the other man into his arms and lifted him up and over to lie back on the bed and pillows once more. Then, with one hand framing Remus’ face, he kissed him whilst wriggling out of his pyjama trousers.

It was only then, as Sirius was moving into position between his lover’s legs, that Remus found his voice again.

“I thought I was doing you,” he said between soft, open-mouthed kisses.

“Hmm…you were…” Sirius replied, moving over and about him with endless kisses, touches and caresses, “I took over.”

And after that, no more was said and for the first night since he’d joined them, Oscar slept through the whole night.

*~*~*

Outside, in Grimmauld Place, Rabastan Lestrange had just arrived after following the path of Lucius’ magic. Really, he thought, there had to be better things to do on the night before Chrismas day.

“Where did it go, then?” demanded his companion. He turned and looked at her before smiling slightly.

“There,” he pointed between two houses.

“Up that alleyway?” she asked dubiously.

After a moment, Rabastan shook his head. “No. See there, that house is Number Ten? And this one is Number Fourteen. Where then, Alison, is Number Twelve?”

Alison Litworth frowned in confusion and shook her head. She didn’t know – didn’t want to know. Some of the old families – those with more money than her own had ever had – went to great lengths to hide themselves from Muggle view. Right now, though, she didn’t care where Number Twelve might be; didn’t even care if there was no Number Twelve. In fact, if she hadn’t promised Fudge that she would take every chance to follow Lucius Malfoy’s movements and actions, she would still be at home, mourning the loss of her younger brother – instead of standing here, mourning the loss of her younger brother and trying to concentrate on what this skinny little man was telling her.

Rabastan Lestrange wasn’t really very much to look at. He was short, thin and vicious looking with a scraggy brown beard and pale, watery blue eyes. Contrary to what he tried to tell Alison, he was not a high-ranking Death Eater. The only reason Voldemort had tolerated him for so long was because his brother Rudolphus was within the elite inner circle.

Alison, though, pandered to Rabastan’s over-inflated view of himself in order get the information she wanted and pass it on to Fudge. Quite what the Minister for Magic was going to do with all of her reports, she didn’t know.

It had been just a couple of weeks prior to Liselle’s death, when Fudge and the Ministry for Law Enforcement had approached her with the task. She was to go undercover as a lesser Death Eater and make herself…‘useful’.

She’d never revealed to anyone just what she was caught up in – not to Jenna, nor Daniel and certainly not to Thomas. And she felt bad for leaving Jenna under a magically induced sleep, at home on her own – tonight of all nights – but this was the only lead she’d had in ages. Almost as if he’d been aware of her surveillance, Lucius had suddenly become incredibly cautious.

Several times, when following him from a safe distance, Alison had abruptly lost him after trailing him back and forth from city to city. His behaviour and reasons for visiting so many cities couldn’t be explained – at least not by her – but, at the end of the day, all she had to do was file her reports and let Fudge worry about what the man was up to.

And then tonight the signal from Rabastan had come – fortunately while she was taking a private moment to get herself together. He hadn’t said very much, except that they were to run an errand for Lucius himself and then maybe they’d have time to be alone afterwards.

Alison wasn’t the slightest bit interested in spending any time alone with Rabastan – not in the way he meant, anyway. Confident that she could handle the situation, though, she determined to concentrate on the task at hand.

“So what do think the spell was?” she asked casually, peering into the alley between the two houses.

Rabastan gave her a curious look and lifted one eyebrow. “I know better than to ask,” he replied firmly. “However,” he added after a moment, “the spell was similar to a Hunter spell, although it wasn’t used with anyone’s blood.”

“So you think he’s looking for someone?” Alison said lightly, “Wonder who.”

“Not who,” Rabastan said with a slight smile, “but what. If he was looking for a person – Mrs Malfoy, for instance – he’d need the full blood magic spell.”

“You mean she’s left him?” Alison stared at him in astonishment.

“Yeah – well, she wasn’t there tonight; that was for sure.” Rabastan leered, “And Lucius has been popping off to see a certain special someone for ages. The Dark Lord, himself, commented on it.” He added with the air of one delivering juicy gossip.

“He’s got a mistress? Who?” Alison asked immediately, wondering if this was why the man had been so cautious recently.

But Rabastan was suddenly looking sly and cagey, “Well,” he said slowly, “I wouldn’t like to say. I mean, if he thought we were speculating on his private life…”

“But surely,” Alison turned on the charm, wishing with all her heart that she could leave here and go home, “someone like you – a trusted brother within the elite – must have an idea. Is she part of the inner circle?”

“A trusted brother of the elite?” Rabastan repeated bitterly, “Hardly. You know there was a chance for action and they never told me about it? Five Death Eaters – none from the inner circle – were sent to eliminate one werewolf. Five! I could have taken him on my own!”

“And the Dark Lord didn’t think of you?” Alison surmised, making the effort to look both shocked and sympathetic. Inside, however, she seethed and reeled at the realisation that this odious little man was talking about her own brother; he had to be! Afraid that Rabastan might read something of her emotions in her eyes, she turned once more to peer between the two houses, quite unaware that her beloved nephew was just feet away from her.

“No one thinks of me, unless it’s to run some mindless task like following Lucius Malfoy’s spells across the country!”

Alison opened her mouth to deliver another ‘Poor you’ statement when she became aware of his presence by her right shoulder. His breath stirred against her cheek as he leered unpleasantly.

“Of course, that’s why I brought you,” he purred in a low voice. The hand that came to rest on her bottom spurred Alison into motion.

“You know, if we’ve done all that we need to do, I think I should probably head home. After all, it is Christmas and -” she paused for a breath, knowing that she was babbling out of sheer nerves.

“Let me unwrap my present,” Rabastan moved forward once more and made as if to pull her robes open. A second later and a sharp crack and the Death Eater sucked his stung fingers, looking reproachful and a little annoyed.

“I’m sorry,” Alison shook her head, backing away, “but I really have to go.” And she Disapparated before he could respond.