Harry Potter and The Charming Prince (BP7)

By the time they arrived home, Luna and Neville had already bathed the children and put them to bed. Draco thanked them both and ushered them to the Floo while Harry Apparated upstairs to check on Valen, April and Severus who were all sleeping soundly. Closing their door, he made his way to the master suite and sat down heavily on the bed. Harry stared up at the ceiling, his body aching but no match for the ache in his heart. He wondered why it was that nobody ever got to say goodbye.

Toeing off his shoes, Harry let them drop to the floor, not bothering to put them away. He was already dreading the talk with the children in the morning, especially because he knew Valen wouldn't rest until he felt all of his questions were answered which presented a problem since there were no answers. He hoped that Draco would be able to come up with the right words because Harry knew for sure that he couldn't.

Harry glanced over to the side when he heard the small crack of Apparition in the hall and Draco then came into the bedroom, his pale face reflecting all of the weariness and sorrow that Harry knew was probably on his own face. Harry held one hand out. "Please just be with me for a moment, love," he asked in a tired voice. "The children are fine; just come here, please."

Draco took his husband's hand, allowing himself to be pulled close. Harry was sitting on the side of the bed and Draco stood there in front of him, looking down . He brought his other hand up to cup Harry's cheek, thumb caressing. "With you, always," he whispered.

"Always?" Harry asked, leaning into Draco's touch. He heard the tone of pleading in his own voice but couldn't help it. "Can you promise me that?"

Draco understood the need in Harry's tone, in his eyes. During the war, Draco had actually died several times but had been brought back by Harry's need, his magic forcing Draco's body to heal. "I would do anything to stay beside you," he admitted.

"I know, because you have already, but – but can you promise me, Draco?" Harry looked up at Draco, his hands now fisted in his husband's shirt, pulling him closer. "I want to hear you say it."

"I promise," Draco swore, and wrapped his arms around Harry. They both knew it was a promise he might not be able to keep, but it was certainly one he was willing to do everything possible to fulfill.

Harry bowed his head and shook it. He knew Draco would promise him anything and walk through fire to make it happen but this promise was impossible and Harry knew it. Until today, he might have believed it but his trust in forever had been broken. "If promises keep people alive then why is Arthur gone, Draco? Can you tell me that?"

Draco sighed, moving to sit beside Harry on the bed and kicking off his own shoes. "I had a talk with Bill," he said, turning to face Harry.

Harry shifted on the bed until he faced Draco and laid one hand on his husband's knee. "Did he know anything? Was his dad sick?"

Draco took a deep breath, looking down for a moment to collect his thoughts ... or to avoid the intensity of Harry's eyes. "He had a weak heart," he admitted.

"A weak heart? That doesn't make sense." Harry frowned and lowered his own head a bit trying to catch Draco's eye. "He worked for the Ministry and was a member of the Order, for Merlin's sake. Wouldn't they have had to know something like that?"

Draco felt his own cheeks flush and he forced himself to look into his husband's face. He wanted to kiss him or do something to ease the pain he saw there but knew he had tell him what he knew. "They did," he said. "Bill told me."

"Everybody knew? How could the Order know without anyone telling me?" Harry felt the clutch of anger pulling him close. "I led the fucking Order, Draco, how did I not know!"

Draco winced. He knew Harry would take it this way. "Not everyone," he assured him. "Just some of the older members of the Order."

"So why wouldn't they tell me? How was I supposed to lead the Order if I didn't even know who was strong enough to fight?" Harry's eyes caught Draco's and held them steadily, never blinking or looking away. He was nearly growling now. "It makes no fucking sense that something like that would be kept from me when I might have been making it worse. I just want to know why!"

"Arthur didn't want anyone to know. Bill told me that Arthur had been bitten by Nagini and the venom had weakened his heart," Draco explained. The attack by the snake had happened before Draco had joined the Order.

Harry shot off the bed and found himself backing away until he was blocked by the dresser. "Nagini?" he heard himself say over the pounding in his head. "Arthur is dead because of m – because of the attack?"

In the rational part of Harry's mind, he knew that Voldemort had ordered the attack and the snake had carried it out but time didn't erase the feelings imprinted inside of him that remembered how it felt to glide toward the unsuspecting man and lunge forward, sinking sharp fangs into yielding skin. And now, all these years later, the results Voldemort had intended to happen were now a reality. Arthur was dead. Harry felt as if icy water had been injected into his veins as he stared at Draco in shock.

Draco was nearly knocked to the floor as Harry sprang away, magic crackling. "What? What is it?" he asked, frightened now.

"What is it? What is it?!" Harry's hands curled into fists. He could feel the guilt and the rage coursing through him and he needed a target but Voldemort was dead; Harry had already killed the crazy bastard. There was nobody left to destroy but if he didn't find a way to release everything, he feared he would destroy himself. And maybe he deserved it. "I saw the attack, Draco! I was fucking there and we took too long! I sat in Dumbledore's office talking about it while he was bleeding to death and if I had convinced them faster -" Harry had lifted his hands, clutching at his hair, when he suddenly thrust one downward and back until it slammed into the dresser behind him.

Draco was shaking as he got to his feet, hands open, placating. "Harry, it's the past, it's not your fault," he pleaded with his husband, not even clear what Harry was talking about.

"How can you say that?" Harry shot back, his voice caught between a snarl and a moan. "It was me!! It wasn't fucking enough that I had to see what that bastard saw but he had to go further and it was me in that bloody snake. I tracked him down and I went after him ... Arthur never saw it coming and when I told Dumbledore, I – I wanted to hurt him too." Harry closed his eyes as he remembered the anguish he had felt when he believed that he really had attacked Arthur, wanting him dead. The pain was shoved away just as quickly with the returning anger. "I took too long, Draco! That's why they never told me; because they already knew it was my fucking fault!"

They had hit upon one of those things where Draco knew he didn't have the whole story and had missed something important. Harry's anger rippled over his skin, Draco's heart beating faster with fear and worry for his husband. He walked closer, hands still out, hoping he could calm Harry down. "I can't believe that. I don't believe you hurt Arthur or that anyone, especially Arthur, blamed you."

Harry slipped quickly away from the dresser and put more distance between himself and Draco. He realised, in a rush of memory, that Draco didn't belong to him when the attack had taken place and probably had no idea what he was saying. Harry felt very alone in that moment. Trying to control his emotions, Harry gave his husband a sad smile and asked, "Who am I, Draco?"

Draco swallowed hard, confused and frightened by Harry's behaviour. He quit advancing when he saw Harry scramble away from him. "You are mine – my love, my husband," he said softly.

Harry nodded and pointed toward the window, his finger trembling. "But everyone out there thinks I belong to them. I'm Harry Potter. The most powerful wizard in the world ...."

The glass in the window that Harry was pointing at shimmered briefly and when Harry made a second gesture the glass liquefied and ran to the floor in puddles of water as if the pane had been made of melting ice. Harry turned and waved his hand at the tall dresser which emitted a strange puffing sound before collapsing to the floor in a pile of ashes as if a scorching inferno had eaten away at the wood. Harry could feel the release of his magic as he raised both hands now and sent the flames in each wall sconce leaping high to lick at the ceilings and create black streaks that knit themselves together into a sinister version of a dark shadowy sky.

Tears ran down Harry's face now as he looked at Draco and he felt ashamed at the fear he saw on his husband's face but he didn't know how to help him when he couldn't help himself. One last wave of his right hand and everything that was wrong became right. The water leapt back to the window as a solid sheet of glass, the flames lowered and the ceiling gleamed softly while the dresser rose like a phoenix from the ashes. Harry sank to his knees and looked up at Draco, his voice thick with tears, and asked, "What good is it to be the most powerful wizard in the world when I can't even fix one small heart?"

Draco had felt every flick of Harry's fingers, skin buzzing with the magic. His eyes grew wide when he realised the implication. "Oh, Harry," he whispered and stumbled to him, going down beside him and reaching out. "It never occurred to them to tell you," he tried to explain. "Arthur and Molly, and even Bill, they still see you as that young boy they have loved for so many years." It was true. Very few people knew just how powerful Harry had become, but even if the Weasleys had realised it, they still might not have said anything. They gave Harry what he wanted, they loved him for just being Harry. And because of that, they hadn't wanted to trouble him with Arthur's problem.

Harry reached out blindly and wrapped his arms around Draco, holding him tight. "It wouldn't have mattered," he choked out. "My magic couldn't have saved him and even if you promise me forever, my magic can't save you anymore, either. So just promise me that if you leave ... you'll take me with you."

Draco wanted to promise him anything that made Harry feel better, but he drew back to look into his husband's face. "And what about our children? Would you abandon them?"

Harry shook his head and whispered, "No. I just don't want to lose you."

"I know," Draco whispered. He did too. One of his biggest reason for not wanting to remove the Concubine Binding Spell had been this very issue. He didn't want to be without Harry. But their children needed them, even if something happened to one of them. "I am yours. Now and always."

Harry tried to swallow past the lump that was now lodged in his throat and looked at Draco through a blurry film of tears. His shoulders slumped as the last of his anger crept quietly away. "I know ... and I'm yours," he replied, the grief sweeping over him. "I'm going to miss him, Draco. I'm just going to miss – " Harry couldn't finish and tightened his arms around Draco as the tears fell faster.

Draco pressed his cheek to Harry's, nuzzling his damp skin. "I know," he repeated, hands stroking Harry's back too.

Harry tucked his face against Draco's shoulder and cried for Arthur and for Dumbledore and even for his father; all of the men he had looked toward for guidance. He was tired of being angry and he knew that Draco was right; if something happened to one of them then the love they had shared would have to be enough as long as their children needed them. Harry cried until the fabric beneath his face was wet and his throat ached but when the last tear slid off his cheek into the folds of Draco's collar, he realised he felt ... clean.

Harry lifted his head and placed both of his hands on either side of Draco's jaw, his thumbs running over the pale cheeks as he looked into his husband's eyes and saw more love than he ever thought he had a right to expect. Leaning in, he kissed the tip of Draco's nose and whispered, "I want to be with you."

Draco smiled, both at the gesture and the words, then led them both over to the bed. His long nimble fingers reached up to unbutton Harry's shirt. Yes, he knew Harry could strip them with magic, but sometimes Draco liked doing this for them. He liked the way it felt to do it for Harry, to slowly reveal his lover's skin, kissing it as he did.

The muscles beneath Harry's stomach jumped as Draco's fingers brushed over his skin and his eyes never left Draco's face even as his own hands moved forward, knowing exactly where to go as he also began releasing each button from its stitched restraint. The only sound in the room was soft breathing and the beating of Harry's heart which seemed so loud he was sure Draco could hear it. He wished that he could hear Draco's.

Draco pulled Harry's shirt down the tanned arms and let it flutter to the floor, his attention riveted on stroking the expanse of golden skin revealed, mouth quirking into a small smile before he leant down to place feather soft kisses along his husband's collarbone.

Like a conditioned response, Harry's fingers stilled and his head tilted back, baring his throat in trust and desire. He could feel the opposing sensations as Draco's lips touched each spot with heat which cooled immediately when a new spot was discovered. A rough moan emerged from his raw throat until it formed the word, "Please," as it fell from his lips.

Draco's hands slid down Harry's arms, over the man's fingers and then back up to rest on his sides. "Yes, I will give you what you need," he assured him, kissing across the muscled chest to a small red-brown nipple and swirling his tongue around it.

Harry needed this so much. This affirmation that Draco was still with him, beside him, and there was no rush or clawing need yet. One hand gently cupped the back of Draco's neck while the other began running through the long silky strands and he felt his trousers begin to tighten as his body responded to Draco's touch. Looking at his husband, Harry whispered, "You always do."

Draco teased and licked, Harry's nipples hardened to points and his breath turned to gasps. Then Draco slid his own hands down, tracing along the waistband of Harry's trousers to the front. He cupped the growing bulge there with his palm, feeling the warm pulse.

Harry's hips thrust forward, chasing the hand that wasn't rubbing against him yet as his body attempted to remedy that. His gasps lengthened into groans and he could feel the small twitches in his cock that meant the front of his pants were growing sticky with clear fluid. Harry's hands fumbled now for Draco's buttons, needing to finish what he had started so he could feel that smooth skin against his own. "Want to feel you."

Draco shrugged out of his shirt, trembling at the feel of Harry's hands on his bare skin. His own hands moved quickly to unfasten Harry's trousers, pushing them with Harry's shorts, down over the man's hips.

Harry couldn't seem to stop his hands from needing to move over Draco's body as if he were blind and needed to map out every sharp angle, every smooth curve that belonged only to his husband. But it still wasn't enough; it would never be enough and he only hoped he had a lifetime of touching Draco. The hands moved down over the taut stomach and, with quiet urgency, grasped the waistband with both hands and sent a spark of magic to his fingers that left the trousers unbuttoned and gaping open. It only took a second more for the trousers and shorts to be left puddling around Draco's ankles and Harry couldn't hold back anymore. With a strangled cry, he threw himself against Draco.

Harry's magic rippled over Draco, and the moment their skin pressed against each other, he groaned in pleasure. He wrapped his arms around his husband and shifted, lying them both down on the bed.

"I need you inside me," Harry moaned softly, rubbing against Draco like he did after their second kiss. "Please ... I just want to feel better."

Draco rolled Harry onto his back, looking down into his face, stroking Harry's cheek and kissing him softly. "Yes, let me take care of you," he whispered, nudging Harry's legs open with one knee.

Two stray tears, making a late appearance, slid from the corners or Harry's eyes and disappeared into his black hair. He nodded, even as his legs fell open and were spread wide without hesitation, eager for the empty space he had created to be filled by Draco.

Draco braced himself with his silver hand against the bed while his other reached down, caressing the dragon tattoo on Harry's hip before moving over his husband's erection, fingers wrapping around the warm shaft. "Make yourself slick for me, love," he whispered.

"Yes," Harry whispered back, neither of them wanting to disturb the quiet that blanketed the room. With the smallest of movements, Harry felt the cool fluids coating his insides and he clenched down involuntarily, forcing some of the lubrication to slip out of his body and make a shiny path toward his lower back. Harry reached out for Draco. "In me."

Draco kept his gaze on his lover's face as he complied, moving his hand lower, finding the sick opening and pushing a finger gently inside.

Harry shook his head. He desperately needed to feel something other than the grief that held him like a jealous lover. Gentle fingers wouldn't be strong enough to break the grip. "No, love," he murmured. "I need you in me now."

Draco didn’t argue, sliding his finger out and coating his already rampant and leaking prick with the lube. He positioned himself and pushed forward, moaning at the feel of Harry's body opening to him.

With a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his skin, Harry pushed down with his hips and bit back a cry as the burning stretch consumed him and his body pulled Draco inside. There was no waiting, no adjusting. Harry clutched desperately at Draco's back and rocked his hips, holding on to the searing ache that meant he was alive; Draco was alive. And they were together in every way they could be. Harry moaned, "Make me feel ...."

Draco had intended to be slow and gentle, but he saw the fierce need in Harry's eyes. Bracing both hands now, he began thrusting hard into the man beneath him.

"Yes, oh, yes ..." Harry whispered in a ragged voice. The sharpest edges of the pain had melted into something primitive and radiant with life. Using his hands, Harry pulled himself up and claimed Draco's lips in a bruising kiss. With each pounding stroke, each lunge forward that ground Harry down further into the mattress, Draco was putting Harry back together again.

Draco kissed back, tongue thrusting into his lover's mouth in a mirror of his cock into Harry's body. He could feel Harry's heels digging into his buttocks as the man pulled himself up with each thrust.

Broken gasps, skin meeting skin and the rhythm of the bedsprings were the only sounds to accompany Harry's healing. He felt as if he couldn't get close enough and slammed his hips up each time Draco pushed in. The sweat now covered both of them. Fevered fury pooled low in Harry's belly and one hand slipped from Draco's back to wrap itself around his cock and tug one, two, three times before the silence in the room was shattered with Harry's desperate cry of, "Draco ...!"

The wave of pleasure that broke over him took Draco's breath away, leaving him suspended in the moment, Harry's body wound around him so tight it felt fused to skin and bone. Draco's orgasm, the ejaculation of seed into Harry's body, was intense – but nowhere near as powerful as the feeling of connection he felt. Harry was his world, his centre and he never wanted that to change.

Harry had barely begun to spill and shudder, when he felt Draco's prick swell even more within him and they rode the sensations out together just as they always did. Except this time it seemed as if two orgasms had bonded into the most exquisite combination Harry had ever known. Feeling lightheaded as he came down from his high, Harry's trembling legs dropped to the bed and the only thing he could do at that moment was love Draco with his eyes.

Draco smiled dazedly, still dizzy with the pleasure. He leant forward, nuzzling Harry's chin and kissing his lips.

"That was ... yeah," Harry mumbled in between kisses, running his hands over Draco's slick back. "Fuck, I needed that."

"Good," Draco agreed, smiling at the caresses. "I am more than happy to give you what you need."

"You always do, love," Harry noted, pulling back to study Draco's face. "I – I know you cared for him too and then I acted like an arse and scared you. Are you all right?"

Draco shifted, gently pulling from his husband's body and moving to lie beside him. "I'm ... all right," he said. Arthur Weasley, along with his wife, had been good to him. Despite the past anger with Lucius, when Harry had bonded Draco to him, they hadn't hesitated to take Draco into their home and their hearts. Arthur had pushed the Order to accept Draco, even to make him Secret Keeper. Not once in all the years had Arthur or Molly ever treated Draco as anything less than a full member of their family. "I will miss him too."

Harry smiled and brushed back damp strands of hair from Draco's forehead. "And I love you for that."

The events of the day brushed over Harry again, but this time he had the warmth of Draco's body to keep him from going under. It meant everything to Harry that Draco had also cared for Arthur and been cared about in return. Now there was just one more thing to deal with. "Draco?" Harry asked, still playing with Draco's hair. "How do we tell the kids? Arthur was the only grandfather they knew; how do we tell them he's gone?"

Draco didn't know the answer to that. Valen had been only a baby during the war, so they hadn't had to explain the deaths of friends and family back then. They had been mercifully lucky since. No one close to them had died since the final battle. Draco sighed, turning his head to kiss his husband's hand. "I suppose as gently, but honestly, as we can."

"It's just not right," Harry murmured, exhaustion setting in. "Every time I think that bastard is finally gone he comes back and this time he's touching our kids. I keep thinking they won't understand and then I want to hit something because I think they shouldn't have to. Not yet."

Draco privately thought they hadn't got off light in the war, all things considered. He certainly hadn't expected to live through it and, if it hadn't been for Harry's magic or Severus Snape's sacrifice, he wouldn't have. "They are strong and they have us to help them," was all he could think to say to his husband.

Harry nodded. Draco was right; there really was no way to prepare for introducing death to children and all they could really do was hold them close and tell them the truth. Harry lifted his head and kissed Draco gently, slightly opening his mouth so that Draco's top lip was pillowed softly between his own. Barely pulling back, he placed his forehead against Draco's and whispered, "In the morning, then."