Political Axes

Draco sat lounging comfortably, sipping his morning tea outside on the balcony off of their bedroom. He loved sunny Spring days, and there was nothing better than lazing about on a breezy Sunday morning, nibbling on a breakfast of lingonberry pancakes, cinnamon scones with cream, and soft boiled eggs made by Harry and shared with same.

“Have a little scone with your cream there, Dray,” Harry teased, as he leafed through the Sunday Prophet checking out the Quidditch scores.

Draco was in the middle of a bite into his scone, which was simply slathered with cream. “Jealous much, lover?”

“Nope. I love to see you swallow…anything,” replied Harry, a smirk dancing across his full lips.

“Cheeky this morning, you are. Guess you are feeling a bit better.”

“Yeah, I am. Thanks to you.” Harry folded the paper and turned his full attention to Draco. “You know, Dray, I am very sorry about the nail marks. I was just distracted with the…”

Draco held up a hand, effectively silencing Harry’s apology. “Harry, I know. There is nothing to apologize for. You and I both know what we have, and all that goes along with it. I’ll be the first to admit that I can be a jealous prick, but you and I understand one another perfectly and if I ever thought we didn’t, or that our current agreement might jeopardize us I would let you know.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and released a deep breath. Draco knew that despite their previous night of lovemaking that Harry was off his game. No matter how far Harry had come into his own as an adult, every now and then he reverted back to that shy little boy, hoping for validation and reassurance. As an Auror Harry was all business and no bullshit, and quite frankly scary when on the hunt, but when they were alone in their bed, wrapped up in one another, Harry let down his guard. He showed Draco his scars, the ones that could not be seen with the naked eye. Draco basked in the knowledge that Harry cared enough about him to worry now and again that the open nature of their relationship would somehow cause a rift between them. That would never happen, Draco wouldn’t let it. He and Harry had both agreed when they began their relationship that if at any time one or the other became unhappy with the situation that the other would agree to review the rules and if need be go monogamous with no argument. Hell, they both knew it was only sex. They had killer sex between the two of them, but being so young they both decided to avail themselves of other flesh while they could.

Draco was just about to comment on Harry’s unnecessary worries when a small gray spotted owl perched on the balcony and hooted. Harry moved to relieve the little bird of its letter and allowed it a nip of pancake for its trouble, before the bird flew off without a reply. Harry scanned the letter quickly. It had two words and no signature.

Twenty Minutes.

Harry crumpled the parchment in his fist and when he opened his palm again all that emerged was a small spiral of mist. Draco had seen this scenario played out many times over the last year, but never on a Sunday. He knew if Harry was called in on a Sunday something urgent and undoubtedly dangerous, had happened or was about to occur. At these moments Draco knew, like he knew his mother loved him—unquestioningly—that he loved Harry. Every time he saw Harry slip into savior mode and dash off to tussle with the forces of evil it was like someone had ripped the limbs off one side of his body. He was always completely off kilter from the moment Harry Apparated away until he returned.

“Shit. I’ve been summoned,” Harry huffed as a dark scowl slid into place on his face. He pivoted from the view of the grounds and marched back into the bedroom preparing to leave.

Draco remained on the balcony, half eaten scone in his hand still poised in a raised position on the way to his mouth. It was as if someone had hit him with Petrificis Totalus when Harry received that letter. By the time he snapped out of his self-induced panic and made it into the bedroom Harry was dressed in full combat Auror gear in head to toe black. The only slight color coming from the ruby jeweled handle of a small dagger sheathed at his thigh, a gift from Draco, and the small purple insignia in the shape of an *Sekhem on the right upper arm of the black tunic, and just above it was an esoteric symbol that if you knew what it was when you looked at it, you gave the person wearing it a wide berth. It was the symbol of the *God Axe.

“Think you will be back soon?” Draco asked in a steel clipped tone, now standing in the frame of the balcony doors.
Harry shrugged in reply. Then he walked over to Draco, snuck an arm inside his silk dressing gown around his naked torso and kissed him viciously. This was Harry in pre-battle mode. The kiss was vicious but held every nuance of their relationship within it. It spoke volumes when Harry couldn’t. It said, I’ll be back if you and God will have me. Once the kiss was broken, Harry paused to stare at his lover for a moment, and then turned and left without so much as a look back.

Author’s Note: Sekhem: Egyptian Symbol of Authority

God’s Axe: African Symbol represents stealth and righteous might.