Come Undone

Body


Warning and Disclaimer: parts 1 and 7

Note: Something new! Bet you never thought it would happen, huh? To be honest, neither did I. But here it is. I hope you can dig it.

Sucker Love I Always Find

"I still believe that love is all you need. I don't know a better message than
that." Paul McCartney, as quoted in Reader's Digest magazine, Nov. 2003

Lucius slammed his fist into his leather punching-bag with such force he thought he nearly crunched his fingers. Not heeding the pain, he punched again. And again and again. Damn his rotten luck. Damn the gods that smiled on his pathetic excuse for a son. Damn the ones that smiled on Harry Potter. Damn Christmas and damn him.

"Love," a voice cooed from behind him, cooling his boiling blood just slightly. "You're going to hurt yourself again."

"That was the idea," Lucius growled in reply.

"But then what good are those hands to me?"

Arms wrapped around Lucius' waist, stilling him. He sighed and twisted, pulling his young lover into a tight hug. "I can heal them, you know," he drawled.

"I know that," Blaise replied, wrinkling his brow in an expression of distaste. "But just because you can, that doesn't always mean you should."

"Nasa ssa said that all the time." His voice held a warning quality to it that said if Blaise felt inclined to remind Lucius of his dead wife any more, he would be spending the remainder of his holiday at his own home with his own parents.

Being with Blaise was a struggle for Lucius in a multitude of ways. First off, he was only sixteen, and as mature as the boy really was, being sixteen made one a certain sort of person. He had to lie to Blaise's parents. Not that this really bothered him; it just made him feel like he was sixteen again, and this wasn't always a positive. And the worst of all by far was that Blaise had an uncanny ability to sound like his dead wife. He had too much compassion when it came to Lucius. He threw aside his necessary blockades just to let Lucius in. He was stupid. Stupid, but virile.

Astedsted smile graced Lucius' angular face. Blaise's virility appealed to him immensely at that moment. Without saying a word, he lifted his lover by his slim waist and carried him to the cot that always sat in the corner of that room. That cot had been occupied by his son during his summer holidays before the wretch had run off. It gave Lucius a demented sort of pleasure to know that he would soon be pounding in and out of his son's former friend (of sorts) on his own cot. He would make it his once more.

Blaise stretched out on the cot much like a cat might, a half-amused smile on his face. "What am I being punished for now?" he asked as he assumed a provocative pose.

"Who said you were being punished?"

"Oh, I just figured," he sang in reply as he spread his clothed legs wide. "I am always doing something I shouldn't."

Lucius merely hummed in an unimpressed manner. He moved around to the foot of the cot and wrapped his hands around the iron bar. Leaning forward, he came within inches of his lover's knees and glared his arousal. "Take off your clothes."

"Make me," he replied insolently.

The reaction he'd secretly been hoping for was the one he received. Anger, or something akin to it, flashed briefly across the elder man's face only to be replaced a moment later with unadulterated lust. He wrenched Blaise from the makeshift bed and threw him on the floor. Inside, Blaise triumphed.

"Take. Off. Your. Clothes," growled the blonde man, wand pointed at Blaise.

Smirking, Blaise moved his hands to the top clasp of his robe and just held it between his fingers as he gazed up through long lashes at the other man. He smiled a smile that could have been considered sweet if it wasn't so smug at the same time. He slipped the button through its hole. Lucius growled, so he hurried his pace and was soittiitting beside a pile of clothing.

"Is that more to your liking, Sir?" he asked without changing the uncomfortable kneeling position he was in or the insolent tone of his voice.

"Mm," he hummed in reply. He pulled Blaise up by his upper arm and threw him onto the cot so that his lower back was just barely on the edge of the thin mattress, his feet holding him up while he rested on his elbows. Already he was hard and dripping. Lucius made a mental note to be kinder to the boy and slow him down.

"Something wrong?" he sang as he spread his legs as wide as he could, making Lucius gasp.

"Yes," he replied huskily. He tossed a small jar to Blaise, which he caught with a flick of his wrist.

So he was to prepare himself, he thought as he unscrewed the lid of the jar. That was slightly different. Nice, but different. Lucius apparently liked to watch more than Blaise gave him credit for. He dipped his index and middle fingers into the transparent goo and rubbed them as he stared up at Lucius. Usually, he would have just done as he was told but now that Lucius was bending the boundaries, he wonderow fow far he could push him. He looked as though he was going to start fingering himself, but instead wrapped his hand around his dripping erection and groaned as his eyes fluttered shut.

"Oh, Lucius," he moaned as he began stroking himself.

For his part, Lucius was stunned. Perhaps the boy was more perceptive than he first thought. He was displaying himself quite shamelessly for his own viewing pleasure not quite like he ever had before. He was tempted to forego the foreplay and just fuck Blaise senseless, but that would take all the fun out of it, he decided. So he dropped to a crouching position, his own erection pushing painfully against his trousers.

Trailing his fingers back to the jar at last, Blaise coated them for a second time. He teased himself, rubbing his fingertips just along his hole. "Oh, Lucius," he moaned again. A finger pushed past the tight ring of muscles and he hissed through his teeth. "Fuck me."

How tempting, Lucius thought. But he was enjoying his torture far too much to end it so soon after it had started. Unconsciously, he began stroking himself through his trousers, building his arousal to the point of being excruciating. Blaise's first three fingers on his left hand were working nd ond out of his own body at such a frantic pace, Lucius wondered how many times the boy really practiced on himself. Perhaps he would make himself come, he mused, the thought arrestingly pleasant.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore. Blaise's firm, compact, young body called to his baser instincts than rationality, forcing him to abandon his trapped erection. With a simple spell, Lucius shed his clothes and stood, looming over his lover. He swatted his hand away and removed the jar to the floor so it couldn't be spilled and wasted.

"Stop it," Lucius spat when Blaise's hand had returnedhis his own groin. "Have you no shame?"

"No," Blaise replied simply as though this was something Lucius should know by then. And he really should have. He should have figured that out when Blaise had first gone to him and literally thrown himself at his feet. Of course, Lucius had only seemed pleased at the display and they had proceeded to spend the following two days in that dungeon room without stopping to eat and only once or twice to sleep. Voldemort himself had eventually lit the sheets on fire. Blaise still found it greatly amusing that a person as Dark as Voldemort would have the sort of sense of humour to light the sheets on fire.

"Either touch me already or leave me the fuck alone," Blaise growled. He was getting sick of waiting. Though he did love it when Lucius watched him, he couldn't stand to be looked down on. Before he could turn away, however, Lucius had grabbed his neck and upper right arm and was holding him still.

"Don't ever take that tone of voice with me," he growled in warning.

That did nothing but anger the boy further. "Get your hands off me," he spat, twisting in Lucius' grip. "I'm not your fucking son, Lucius."

"No, my son was never so faithful," he agreed, voice softening minutely.

"I told you to get your fucking hands off me," he repeated, detangling himself from Lucius' hands. "I've already told you to quit treating me like your fucking son at least a million times. I hate it."

"Don't give me cause." He held up the back of his hand thr threat and Blaise shot up and off the cot.

"Go ahead and hit me!" he shouted as he gathered his clothes. "Because the gods only know, Lucius, my disadvantages certainly aren't enough without you bringing up new ones!" His clothes were on and he was already at the door when he yelled, "Merry fucking Christmas!" and slammed it behind him.

As soon as silence echoed through the Manor once more, Blaise having Flooed to the gods only knew where, Lucius finally heaved a sigh and slumped down onto the cot. The distraction Blaise generally posed was seeming to wear thin. He was too close to Draco's age and temper for his liking, truth be told. Voldemort's vehemence in obtaining Draco before term's end was only growing and there was little Lucius could do, legally or otherwise. Kidnapping would immediately give the game away. Damn Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, too, he thought, for keeping the boy out of his hands. Of course they would know about it; Blaise had already explained that Draco had been assigned to Potter's side, day and night.

Paternal emotions had never been all that familiar to Lucius. At no point in his son's life he he ever felt truly protective or anything more than genuinely apathetic towards the boy. But when Blaise had told him of Draco's improvements in classes, his increase in friends and activities, and how well he seemed to be readjusting, something Lucius couldn't identify began to nag at him. He kept telling himself that anyone could make it on that side; that it took a special sortpersperson to make it in his line of work. And that was true, to a point. Lucius had watched his son struggle to stay afloat in Hogwarts, at home, everywhere. He himself had always had to struggle until his father died and he'd received the titles to all the Malfoy properties in Europe, America, and India, the bank accounts, Narcissa, and Draco. But he had created all that himself. He had taken himself out of that struggle. Draco was going the lazy route in taking the path of least resistance; not at all like a Malfoy.

But somewhere, in the back of his mind, Lucius was unconsciously impressed with his son's accomplishments.

That led to another of Lucius' problems. Blaise. He loved the boy, for all intents and purposes, but he wasn't really... Blaise was not the solution to as many problems as he was just another facet of them. He was, after all, still in school and would be for another year at least. Fortunately, his marks were very high; much higher than Draco's were.

Thinking about the similarities between his son and his latest lover never failed to make Lucius feel rather miserable. Blaise would be angry at him and refuse to visit until he genuinely apologised for his actions. Why he put up with such a... demanding partner, Lucius wasn't totally sure, but he knew that if he didn't he would be even sorrier. Besides, he rationalised to himself, Blaise would always eventually come around, the sex was fantastic, and when they plotted together, Voldemort was unstoppable. They were unstoppable. Stupid as he truly thought Blaise was, he did have an uncanny talent for being evil. Wine and roses would be in order tomorrow. He'd make it up to the boy.

***

Eight fifteen, read the little clock that sat on the table beside Draco's bed. Eight fifteen in the bloody morning. That meant there were fourteen hours and about forty five minutes to survive through until he could go back to bed. Normally Draco felt that nothing was impossible and even the most undesirable of situations could be tolerable given certain circumstances. However, this fourteen hours and forty five minutes just had to happen on one of the three days out of the year he'd rather have disintegrated into thin air than live it: Christmas.

The Blackest Holidnownnown to Draco Malfoy.

Not that he had any unpleasant memories of Christmases past. Not by far. He usually spent it alone in his room at Malfoy Manor with his books and his Wizard's Wireless on to a low but peaceful volume, just enough to drown out the sounds of his father torturing some small creature or his punching bag in the upper dungeons or his mother's drunken rants from the next wing over. All in all, Christmas was like any other day of the week at Malfoy Manor, and that was fine by Draco. But this year, all that had to change, because he'd watched Harry and Hermione and Ron and damn near everyone but himself get increasingly excited about the holiday as it approached. And, being as he was tied to Harry's side, he was stuck to listen to their banter and pretend that he was just going to go home later. Ron had gone home, along with his sister, the Creevey brothers, and the vast majority of the rest of the school. The darkroom was to be off-limits for the day, so he resigned himself to staying in bed and felt slightly better.

He felt slightly better for about three minutes before Harry's voice cut through the peaceful silence of the room. "Draco?" he called as though he was uncertain that the boy would be there.

After having briefly considered not replying at all, Draco called back, "Harry?"

The curtains at the foot of his bed were drawn back a few inches and Harry peeked inside. "Today isn't what I thin is, is, is it?" he muttered as he climbed onto the bed.

"If by that you mean the most wretched holiday to ever curse mankind with its existence, then yes, it is," he replied, grinning.

"I see I'm not alone in my opinions," he laughed. Draco held up the blanket for him and he crawled under it, grateful for the warmth. "Thanks."

"I thought you were into Christmas," Draco pointed out as he curled up against Harry's chest.

"I hate Christmas. Ron and Hermione get into it, so I have to, you know?"

"Hey, I'm not trying to be like.... presumptuous or anything, but do think that... um... you know, when we're like.... on our own, do we have to celebrate these stupid fuckin' holidays?"

"I think we should make up our own holiday," Harry said with a smile.

"We already have one. It's on the twenty first of June," Draco replied shortly.

"That's like.... I would equate that to Halloween. We need one we can equate with Christmas."

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed. "Tell me I'm not one hell of a gift to you!"

"Who from? Your father?"

"Consider me like a.... a gift from the gods," he said, grinning.

"A gift from the gods, eh? I'm not sure, Draco. Do you really think the gods are so vindictive?" he quipped, dodging a smack from his companion.

"You're a bitch, Harry," Draco informed him as he once more curled up against his companion's chest. "And it isn't very becoming of you, I might add."

"All apologies, lovie," he drawled in reply. One hand wound around Draco's shoulder to rest against the back of his head. He tangled his fingers in Draco's feathery, blonde locks and sighed as he settled into their embrace. "So, yeah... Merry Christmas."

"Right. Ditto."

"Right." And he lost himself in a fit of giggles.

"What is wrong with you?" Draco asked, tilting his face up to look into Harry's.

"We're so fucking pathetic sometimes, you know," he giggled. "Listen to us! You'd think it was Black Tuesday or something."

"No, it's Black Saturday," Draco replied, grinning.

"Which reminds me... I wonder if we've heard back from Sirius yet..."

"It's been almost two weeks. I hope he's okay," said the blonde boy, forehead furrowed.

"Yeah, so do I," agreed the Gryffindor. "If I know Sirius at all, though, he's probably just forgotten that there are people in this world other than himself and Remus."

"Like that's a viable excuse."

"I never excused it. It's just the way it is."

"I don't know. If how you reacted last time is any sort of model, I wouldn't be so eager to piss you off."

"'s r's rich, coming from you."

"Honestly!" Draco cried, sitting up and folding his arms across his narrow chest. "I've been making a damn fine effort at not pissing you off, mother fucker! And this is how you repay me!? You mock me!?"

"Calm down," laughed Harry. "Calm down. I meant nothing by it."

"I've heard that one before."

"Wait here a sec," Harry said very suddenly, then jumped out of the bed. He came back a moment later, an envelope in his hand. "Before you say anything, Draco, I did this because I wanted to, okay? I'm not trying to piss you off or insult you or anything."

"I didn't say a word."

"Yeah, 'cause I didn't give you a chance. Here."

Reluctantly, Draco took the envelope. He sighed, then looked up at Harry. "Well, I did something similar, I imagine, so..." He leaned over and selected a package from his top night stand drawer and practically threw it at Harry. "I just thought you'd like it."

"Ah... thanks, Draco," Harry breathed, rather awestruck by the gesture. "Really."

"Don't say that before you know what it is," he laughed, being his typically cryptic self. "So, what's this?"

"That's why I gave it to you, dear," drawled the other boy.

Draco ran one finger along the folded edge of the parchment, breaking the seal. It contained only a bit of pmentment about the size of a business card, but it was what the card said that left Draco rather awestruck himself. In scratchy, black writing, it told that the bearer of that card, one Draco Malfoy, was entitled to quite the selection of garments courtesy of Pip's Fashun Pit, Diagon Alley, London.

"Where is this?" he asked, still staring unblinkingly at the card. "I've never heard of it before."

"Friend of the twins," Harry replied, obviously distracted. And he was. By nothing other than himself, who was throwing rocks at his two best friends in between ducking behind bushes and tree trunks as not to be seen. Those two best friends were wandering about in the frame, doing nothing of much importance, save for trying to find the source of the projectiles coming their direction. "This is really fucking cool, Draco," he breathed. "Really. Thank you."

"Uh... yeah. Sure," he whispered, feeling very stupid for giving Harry something as small and silly as a lousy picture when he'd been given something so much more. "Are you sure you wanted to do this?"

"Of course I'm sure," Harry stated, looking up at last. His face wore an expression of offense. "I was sure when I did it. It's not that big a deal. It's just a gift."

'One hell of a gift, I'd say,' Draco thought to himself. Though he did find it to be much more than 'just a gift,' he refrained from pressing the matter further. "Thanks," he said instead.

"'S nothing," he muttered, blushing as he looked back at his photograph. "Thank you."

"Knock it off already."

"Sorry."

"Shut up, Harry."

"I love you, Draco," he sang back, accompanied by a sickly-sweet smile.

"Why? Obligation or personal initiative?" quipped the blonde boy. He leaned back to rest on his elbows and regarded Harry with an obvious challenge.

"Personal initiative, and fuck you for insinuating otherwise," Harry snapped.

"I never insinuated shit, Potter," Draco laughed lightly. "I was merely asking a question and I wanted an honest answer. I just don't beat around the fucking bush like you do and bother asking if I can ask you a question or not; I just do it."

"Yes, you are rather direct, aren't you?" Harry mused as a grin spread slowly over his face. "One of your more charming qualities. At first I hated it, though, if you want the whole truth."

"Believe me, you take some getting used to," Draco said. "I can't tell you how badly I want to hit you every fucking time you clam up and refuse to talk."

"You do most of that, though. You've got to admit."

"Yeah, all right," he agreed, though quietly, with a secretive sort of smile. "But there have been times that you've flat refused to acknowledge the situation for what it is. You've got to admit."

"Yeah, I will," conceded the Gryffindor, nodding thoughtfully. "But given that the situation is what it is, can you really blame me?"

"No, not really. It still irritates the living piss out of me." After tossing Harry's gift onto his table, Draco settled back against the pillows and continued to stare at his companion.

"What?" Harry asked when Draco said nothing.

"I see why people like you so much," said the blonde boy. Harry raised a brow. "You're easy to like."

At that, Harry had to laugh. "So this is why we've gotten along so atrociously for so long?"

"Yes, actually," he agreed. "I'm not very easy to like and I admit that I prefer it that way. But you.... It works for you. You're just... You've got a decent sense of... humanity, I suppose."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Perhaps that isn't quite right," he considered, frowning thoughtfully. "You're very good looking and you smile a lot. I think that inclines people to pay attention to you and then you seem to be like... easy to talk to. About mostly anything. I think we've had some good conversations, anyway."

Before Harry could voice his agreement, that first statement of Draco's caught him. "So, you find me attractive?" he asked, sounding very curious and not very in the mood for teasing.

"Yes, I do," Draco answered when he'd assessed that it was a genuine question. "Why? Do you find that so surprising?"

"Mm... I don't know. I've not thought about it, honestly."

Draco grinned and sat up. "And that is what makes you so attractive," he whispered conspiratorially as he hugged his knees to his chest.

"I could say the same about you," Harry whispered back, rather caught up in the moment. "You hardly give yourself any consideration at all when it comes down to that. Why did you used to be so vain?"

"I had the luxury," he drawled, laying back once again. "When one doesn't have to worry about basics, luxuries become commonplace."

Harry placed the photograph on Draco's table and stretched out beside the blonde boy. Propping himself on his right elbow, Harry looked down into Draco's clouded face. "I didn't mean to start anything," he said as he snaked his left arm around the other's waist.

"I know." He curled closer to Harry and buried his face between his chest and the pillow. "I didn't take it like that."

A pang of physical pain ran up Harry's spine as he held Draco tighter; something he was rapidly getting used to. It seemed to him that the closer he got to his blonde counterpart, the more painful and rewarding it became. It hurt because Draco would only let him get so close before his lack of trust in Harry would get the better of him and he would push away. It wasn't being pushed away that was so painful; it was being pushed away because he wasn't trusted. The potion that had been used to bind them together was designed specifically for those who were already in love. For those that weren't, the feelings that the potion amplified would drive the victims mad.

But the worst part, as far as Harry was concerned, was that everything he felt and did for Draco were done out of the honest intentions of his heart and not out of a desire to appease the bond. As he had gotten to know Draco, Harry found that they had a multitude of things in common, as well as a million differences that added more to their union than took away from it. Of course, this lent a sort of understanding of their rivalry, but it was just that: an understanding. Nothing more was ever said or done as a result of it, but the tension between them seemed to dissolve quite rapidly. And this had allowed him to more genuinely pursue Draco in a way that he hadn't before. Because, with the newfound understanding and acceptance of their situation, they had both been able to become more open and honest with the other. Though Draco still didn't trust Harry like Harry wished he would, there was still potential that just had to be exploited.

Pulling away, Harry revealed Draco's face and covered it with his left palm. "Draco?" he whispered. Draco looked up shyly. "I'm not trying to start a fight or anything, you know, I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I'm glad I've got you."

Draco's throat tightened instantly. He was tempted to yell at Harry for his admission of whatever it was he was trying to admit, but the honesty in his voice stopped him. It angered him when Harry told him those things, because it was a lie. If he never said anything at all, it would be better than a lie, he thought. But it was obvious, even to him in his perpetual state of denial, that Harry was not lying. Sighing, Draco relaxed and settled into the embrace.

"I still don't understand why you can't tolerate me telling you-" Harry started when no response was forthcoming.

"Because, as I've said five hundred thousand million fucking times already, you don't understand the implications of what you're saying," Draco sighed, completely exasperated. He detached himself from Harry and sat back. "You may understand the words and the meaning of the words, but you don't understand the effect of those words, Harry. You want to be with me out of what? Some desire that isn't even really yours. You think it's going to change once we start sleeping together, don't you?"

Harry blushed more red than he'd ever blushed before. Because that had been exactly what he'd thought. "Don't you?" he muttered back in lieu of a real reply.

"I wish it was that easy, luvvie," Draco laughed bitterly. As was his style. "And I am sorry, but it isn't. It takes genuine feeling and actions based according to those feelings. You've got to want to be with me for it to do anything for you, and I don't honestly think you're ready for all that that would entail." Another short, more amused laugh escaped Draco's throat. "I really don't."

"You don't, huh?"

"No, I don't."

"And would you care to enlighten me as to what, exactly, being with you might entail?"

Heaving a sigh and flipping onto his back, Draco stared up at Harry, obviously unimpressed. "It would entail much of what we already do, Harry, but I don't think you can handle listening to me cry at the end of the day to you and I don't think you're ready to give up trying to best me all the time."

"I'm trying to best you," he stated, monotone. "Where on Earth did you get that idea?"

"Look at the way you are with me," sighed the blonde boy. "Potions, you've always gotta get it before me. Charms.. You've always got the stronger charm."

"Stop right there," Harry warned. "There are plenty of things that you try to best me at, and fuck this tangent, anyhow. I don't want to fight about petty bullshit, all right? There are plenty of other things to worry about. So quit being vague and nit-picking about shit that doesn't matter anyway. Okay?"

"Yes, Sir," Draco drawled as he stifled a smile.

"Tell me more about being with you."

"Mm," he hummed. As he hummed he considered what to tell Harry next. "Actually, I can't say for sure. I've never written out my criteria before."

"I guess I'll just have to learn as I go, won't I?" Harry said with a smirk, though not an unpleasant one.

"You're awfully sure of yourself, Potter."

"Of course I am," replied the Gryffindor with utmost confidence. "I watch you every chance I get and I know you don't smile half as much as you do when you're with me. And I also know," he said as he rolled over and propped himself on his knees and elbows over Draco, "that I don't smile half as much as I do when I'm with you, and that can't just be a coincidence."

"Oh?" Draco sang as he ran his fingers lightly over Harry's forearms, though he didn't touch him anywhere else.

"There are no coincidences."

"Fair enough," agreed Draco. "Then tell me exactly what this non-coincidence means."

"You're the only thing I can count on," he admitted, then blanched. He'd not intended to let that slip just yet.

Draco merely smiled softly and folded his hands over his stomach. "Yes, I am aware of that. We are kind of in exactly the same boat."

"I meant-" he stammered, then stopped and collapsed on top of the smaller boy.

A high, bell-like laugh echoed through the small room, bouncing off the walls, and made Harry's blood boil. Never had he heard anything quite like that sound. That was not the false, forced laughter that Harry recognised. No, this was a wholly different, alien sound that seemed to come from something higher than humanity. It was honest laughter, and though it wasn't as loud to the world as it was to Harry, it was the sweetest sound imaginable. And he found himself laughing along as well as gleeful tears dripped from his eyes.

"Sometimes," Draco began when he'd caught his breath, "when this first happened, I thought a lot about how ironic it was that we of all people should be bonded together like this."

"So what do you think of it now?" asked Harry.

"I still think it's ironic, but I think it is rather more... serendipitous than that," he replied at length.

"Serendipitous," Harry repeated wistfully. "Yes, that is the word to describe you."

"So, Harry?"

"So, Draco?"

"Are you ever going to kiss me?"

Startled, Harry's head snapped up and he looked into Draco's inquisitive face. "Huh?"

"You know. We put our lips together and I shove my tongue down your throat? You've done that before, haven't you?" he teased.

"Never with you," he breathed.

"Ah, point taken," Draco replied as he wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders. "Though I am rather flattered that you care about what I think about the way you kiss."

"You're the only person who I've got to worry about."

"Don't start this 'rest of our life' shite again," he warned.

"I'm not starting anything, my love," Harry assured him. "You were the one who started talking about kissing; not me."

"Yes, I know that. So, are you going to do it already, or do I have to beg?"

"You'd beg me to kiss you?"

"Not really. It was more a manner of expression."

Harry nodded. "Of course."

"Fine." Draco pulled Harry down and pressed their lips together without any shred of patience. But that was about as far as he got as his eyes went wide and he went completely blind from the ecstasy that was coursing into his body where his lips touched his companion's. The tingling he experienced every time he so much as touched Harry seemed to be amplified tenfold, and all the sensation was concentrated in his mouth.

Startled, Harry pulled back only a moment after their chaste kiss began. "Holy fuck..." he gasped as he stared at the blonde boy.

"Yeah. What I was gonna say."

"Would you mind if we tried that again?" he asked as he wound his arms securely around Draco's narrow form.

"Actually, that sounds like a fabulous idea," agreed Draco.

This time when they made contact, they didn't fight the feeling and settled instead for trying to remember to breathe. The tingling was rapidly spreading to their faces, necks, and chests. Moving of some more basic force than consciousness, Harry parted his lips and allowed his tongue to graze his partner's lips, coaxing them open. Their eyes were open and blind as they tentatively touched their tongues together, deepening the kiss.

"Oh, Harry," Draco moaned, almost inaudibly, without breaking the contact and his eyes fluttered shut.

If there was any doubt left in Harry's mind, it was dissolved immediately. Those fears he'd had suddenly seemed so distant and as though they had come from another person in another life. It seemed nearly impossible to him that he could ever have doubted the legitimacy of his inclinations toward the blonde boy, because they were so very legitimate now.

Whether the kiss was a physical expression of emotion or a physical reaction to it, neither could rightfully say, but it didn't seem to matter from that point on. In fact, neither really thought of it in those terms. It was simply a natural course of action that two people who genuinely were falling in love would take. And it was when this thought entered his mind that Draco began to cry silently to himself.

"I'm so sorry I doubted you," he whispered suddenly. Eyes clenched tight, Draco pushed the remaining tears out of them and stopped more from coming. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Sshh," he cooed back, gently stroking Draco's hair back from his forehead. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

But as far as he was concerned, all Draco could see in their union up until that point was a vicious rivalry and hurtful words. Not the rivalry nor the words could ever be made up for, though. He knew it. He knew it as inherently as he knew that the sun would rise in the East. So what was there to do? Simply toss it aside. Simply forgive, never forget, but most certainly forgive. They would learn from that mistake so as never to repeat it, but Draco secretly knew that not a single word would ever be uttered in regards to their past behaviours from then on. It was in the past and it was time that they start moving on.

"Harry?" Draco whispered as his fingers curled in the fabric of the other boy's robe. Harry looked down at him and gave him a small, reassuring sort of smile. "I want to- you know? But not yet. Okay?"

"Of course, Draco," he sighed. "But would you mind explaining this fear of intimacy of yours?"

"I don't have any fear of intimacy, asshole," Draco spat back as he pushed Harry away from him. "I just don't feel the need to spread my legs for every boy who thinks I'm pretty, all right?"

"Hey, I never criticized you, I just asked you to explain it," Harry defended himself.

"Fine. I'll explain it. It's all very simple. I have had sex with the twins. That's it. And you want to know why?" The Gryffindor nodded impatiently. "I trust them. The gods only know why, but I do. I don't just... I don't fuck on the first date. I'm not cheap."

"I never said you were."

"Then why does it irritate you so badly that I want to preserve myself?" demanded the blonde boy. He was no longer so outraged as he'd been a moment before, but he was definitely not satisfied.

"If you'd explained it as self-preservation in the first place instead of coming off as holier-than-thou, I wouldn't have questioned you at all!" he cried, exasperated. "But you had to make it out like I'm a slut because I like sex! Criminy!"

"Yeah, tell me how many people you've had sex with," Draco challenged.

"Four, if you must know." Harry glared.

"Four? Who?"

"I'm not telling."

"I told you."

"It's not like it was a big secret," Harry mumbled under his breath.

"Fine. Don't tell me. But don't count on adding me to the list, all right," said Draco as he rolled over and away from Harry.

In the time that he'd lived with the Dursleys and gone to Hogwarts, Harry thought he had managed to maintain a pretty decent sense of patience and relative tolerance. But when Draco turned his back on him, that was his last straw. In a split instant he had pinned Draco by his wrists to the mattress and was sitting on his thighs, straddling them. "Do. Not. Do. That," he growled as he narrowed his eyes at the smaller boy beneath him. "Don't you ever, ever turn away from me, Draco. I was not trying to instigate a fucking argument, and you're NOT going to turn it around on me. No. No more. This is bullshit. It is going to stop."

"Who the fuck are you to-"

"I'm the only person you're ever going to have to worry about for the rest of your life," said the Gryffindor, all threat, malice, or anger now gone from his voice. His face had softened incredibly and he was rubbing his thumbs in small circles on the heels of Draco's hands. "That's the reality of it, love, much as I hate to admit it."

"All right. Since when were you the voice of reason?"

"Since you..." Harry trailed off.

Draco grinned. "Since I took the stance you usually take and you saw it from the other side?" he hummed sweetly as he smiled innocently at the other boy. "You know, I try to give you your space and not push you, but sometimes you're thicker than Weasley."

"And that's damn near impossible, isn't it?"

"You do a fine job, though," he replied as he wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. "So what have we learned today, Potter?"

"That Parvati, Lavender, Fred, and George combined aren't half the headache you are," he replied with a smile to match Draco's.

The blonde's jaw opened and his eyes went wide. "You fucked Parvati Patil?" he stated, obviously disbelieving.

"Yeah, why?" shrugged Harry.

"Because she's fucking hot, that's why!" Draco cried. "Half of Slytherin's been after her and Padma for... ever! Huh." He sat back, grinning a bit madly, and looked appraisingly at his companion. "Wow. Right on, Harry."

"I didn't know you liked girls."

"I like lots of girls, Harry," he half-laughed. "I like Hermione and Ginny's okay- You're right. I'm a fucking pouf, aren't I?"

"Ponce to the core," Harry replied, nodding sagely.

"Ach," Draco spat with a smile. "Just means you should feel more secure."

"Yeah. Right. Secure," Harry half-laughed in sarcasm. "Of course, knowing that the Dark Lord is after my blood doesn't help me sleep at night, but hey, what's a little evil to make a guy feel insecure?"

"Not to mention the throngs of followers behind that Dark Lord," Draco sighed. "But those are things for another day. Today, I like where we're going."

"And just where is that, exactly?" asked the Gryffindor, eyebrow quirked and lips curling in a small smile that Draco suddenly found irresistible.

"Ahh... What was the original question again?" Draco asked, looking hopelessly dazed. While Harry was talking he found himself drawn to stare at him and failed to notice that he was speaking. "Er... topic, rather."

"I'm not sure," Harry replied with a wicked smile. "What topic were you on?"

A million potential answers to that question immediately came to Draco's mind. So many were there, in fact, that he couldn't make up his mind and instead opted to be silent because any of those answers were for other days and not that particular one. "You're very beautiful, Harry," he whispered at length, having continued his careful scrutiny whilst composing his thoughts. "I don't mean to like... sound shallow, you know, but I like looking at you."

"Yes, I rather got that impression." The smile turned cheeky, though the blush was definitely from genuine embarrassment.

"I've always thought that about you, truth be told."

"I know." Harry paled the instant the words were spoken because Draco suddenly looked very interested in his words as opposed to his face.

"Do tell."

Well. He fucked himself right proper, he did, he did. That was the one thing he'd promised himself he'd never let on about because he knew better than to 'drag skeletons out of closets,' to quote his partner. But while they were getting along, he decided it was worth the risk, so he took a deep breath. "I heard it from you, in fact," he said. "When you visited me in the infirmary."

Concern and consideration flitted across Draco's face in equal measure with panic, anger, and out right fury. He also took a deep breath. "You were awake?" he asked, voice about two octaves higher than it would normally be. He was still very calm and serene, but it was all he could do not to turn and hide right then.

Harry nodded almost imperceptibly. "I- didn't want to make you stop. It was... very unexpected."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Draco snorted.

"Refreshing, I might add. You were the last person I ever expected to think those things about me." The green of Harry's eyes dulled as he fell into the memory of that afternoon. "I found it very... peculiar that you of all people should have changed your story so drastically. I thought you really hated me. I thought you really thought I was worthless. And so did I, you know. 'Cause of Cedric, mostly. I know I fucked up but I'm getting over it now. Well, I'm dealing, anyhow. But I didn't know how to deal I guess, until..." He trailed off, not sure whether or not he wanted to confess that little part yet, but after a moment of considering that it was now or never, he made up his mind. "For someone who made me out to be so horrible to really think me a real person... shocked me, I guess. It actually meant something, you know? Well, probably nanywanyway. But it did. It meant more than hearing it from Ron and Dumbledore."

Draco inhaled sharply. "You- you really think that?" he whispered, awestruck.

"Mm-hmm," Harry hummed in reply. "I have."

"So... I don't get it."

"What is there not to get?" he asked very apprehensively.

"I don't get how that could mean so bloody much to you and yet you still don't know what you want," stated the blonde boy. "If it was really such a turning point, where do you get off looking down on me for it?"

"Look down on you?" Harry demanded, eyes wide in disbelief. "Look down on you? I was bloody confused, Draco! I never looked down on you!"

"Bloody confused, eh?" Draco quipped. "Bloody confusion doesn't mix well with you, you know. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Never mind. I shouldn't have said anything at all."

Harry rolled to the side and made to slip off the bed, but Draco's hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to find Draco smiling softly. "If every time we start making some sort of progress, you get up, we're not going to get very far, Harry," he said. "You want to spend the rest of our life like this?" Harry shook his head miserably. "Then stop. Come back here and just lay with me. Okay?"

"Okay."

The lack of apology or further argument first startled Draco, but he let it pass without much consideration. Harry merely crawled back into his open arms and laid his head on his chest.

"Are you mad at me?" whispered the Gryffindor.

"No," Draco whispered back. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just... frustrated with you."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

Silence fell over them once more, but it wasn't as tense as it had been moments before. Another thing that both boys were extremely grateful for, as their perpetual arguing was finally starting to take its toll on their already strained relationship. It seemed to them that for every step forward, they had to take three steps back, and this routine was quickly wearing out its novelty value. In the months prior to that Christmas holiday, said routine was generally looked upon with some measure of amusement and some -smaller- measure of security. However, Draco was rapidly losing interest in the juvenile games and Harry wasn't far behind him. Both being on the same page for the first time ever lent a new element to the bond: peace.

"Holy shit," Harry said suddenly. "Holy shit, Draco!" He sat up straight, grinning apprehensively. "It stopped. It stopped!"

"What st-?" he started, then cut himself off as a grin similar to his companion's crossed his angular face. "It did stop, Harry! Holy shit!"

"Ho-ly shit," Harry breathed, grin fading. The implications of this sudden peace hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Scary growing up, huh?" Draco asked, still grinning madly. Harry nodded.

For as long as they could remember -meaning, roughly, six months- the force inside them that reminded each of his partner was constantly throbbing with some sort of insistence that neither could comprehend in its entirety. It was as though a 'voice' was perpetually telling them to get close to each other, to couple, to take actions and make the insistence cease. This 'voice' was not so concrete in their minds as that, though it was very real. It was more of an instinct made solid. Both had resolved that they would have to spend the remainder of their life listening to the nonstop harassment, and were thus doubly surprised to realise that it had stopped.

That same, bell-like laughter that had escaped Draco's throat earlier that morning was once again bouncing off the walls. The first time it had first frightened the Gryffindor, but now it was welcome. Smile returning, Harry also started laughing.

"Draco?" he asked once they had calmed down enough to speak coherently. "Um... I was thinking..."

"Harry Potter!" Draco cried, resuming his hysterical laughter. "You think!? Amazing! Fabulous! Five points to Gryffindor."

"Will you ever get over that?"

"Not likely. But what was it that you were thinking about?"

"I was thinking that... you know.... um- About the twins...."

"What about them?" Draco asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

"I was thinking that... well... Now, don't take this the wrong way, okay? But I was thinking... Idonwantyoutobewiththemanymore."

"What?" Draco demanded, for the request had been spoken so quickly, he hadn't the slightest idea what Harry had said. "Speak slow."

Harry took a deep breath. "Forget it," he muttered and turned away.

"Harry? What have I been telling you all morning, in addition to the last... three, four months?" Draco replied. He folded his hands on his lap and looked at Harry like a professor might look at an insubordinate child.

"Fine. I don't want you to- to sleep with them anymore." He cringed and shut his eyes as soon as he was finished speaking.

Once again, Draco laughed. "That's all?" he asked through his laughter. "Harry, I could have told you that already. I don't want to sleep with them anymore."

"You- you don't?"

There was such wonder in the Gryffindor's tone that Draco couldn't stop himself laughing even harder. One look at Harry's apprehensive expression, however, and Draco got himself under control. "No, Harry, I don't," he stated. "I never really intended on sleeping with them to begin with; it just... it just sort of worked out that way."

"How did you hook up with them, anyway?"

"Funny thing, really," Draco said, his smile fading or souring; Harry couldn't tell exactly which.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"It doesn't really matter, I suppose," sighed the blonde. "I just don't quite know how to explain it without sounding.... well, cheap."

"You're not cheap, and even sleeping with the twins doesn't make you that way," Harry assured him with a kind of deadly sincerity that Draco couldn't deny even if he'd wanted to.

"All right," he agreed with a sigh. "They just... told me to keep away from Ron and Ginny and... one thing led to another, I suppose, and we just... started fucking. I don't even really remember how it started, honestly. One day I was just me, and the next I was fucking them. I don't know how it happened. Huh. What do you know?"

"You don't remember?" Harry stated, unimpressed.

"Well, I remember actually doing it, you know," he considered. "I just can't think of the actual sequence of events that led to it."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with vinyl hot pants and platform boots, would it?" growled the Gryffindor.

"Fuck you, and no, it didn't. Wait. Yes it did. Never mind." Harry raised a brow. Draco sighed. "Fuck you, Harry. I wanted to go out, so I went out. They like weird shit like that, you know."

"Yes, I do know," Harry replied.

"So now you know, so lets forget it, huh?"

"Just one thing I don't get."

"Just one?"

"Yeah. For someone as fucking... conservative as I know you can be, how in bloody hell did anyone get you to dress like that in the first place?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Draco sighed.

"Try me."

"All right. Lucius Malfoy is of the opinion that drag lifestyles, or even occasional drag, is perverse, sick, and not very dignified. You're me and the only way you present yourself is completely and utterly fucking dignified to the nines. You want to go out. How are you going to get away with it?"

"Dress in drag?"

"Exactly."

"So..."

"So, no, I don't particularly get off on dressing as a woman," he summed up. "Even if there are times when it is a necessary precautionary measure."

"Of course. Thanks for clearing that up."

"And before you ask, no, I won't dress up for you."

"But those shorts-"

"I. Said. No."

"-show you off very nicely," he finished with a sickly-sweet smile. "I wouldn't mind at least looking at you if you won't-"

"HARRY!" Draco practically screamed. "KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF!"

"-let me touch you."

"You know, just because I'm fucking gay doesn't mean I'm a slutty drag queen!" he cried, exasperated and furious. "Most gay men aren't."

"What? Sluts or drag queens?"

"Either. Now drop it before I drop it for you." He held a fist up, shaking it menacingly.

"You're cute when you're trying to be intimidating."

"Fuck you." Draco slipped off the bed and into the morning sunlight. "Fuck, it's bright out here."

"That's what happens when the sun shines," Harry stated lightly as he swung around to let his legs hang over the edge of the bed.

"Don't you have someone else to harass?" Draco grumbled as he went to the window aesteested his elbows against the sill, chin resting in his hands. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, melting the icicles around the edge of the windows of the castle. From that vantage, Draco could see over the whole of Hogwarts' grounds, where Hagrid was throwing a small tree trunk for Fang to fetch. He would bark occasionally and Draco smiled. "That is the happiest dog in the world," he laughed quietly to himself.

"With Hagrid as your master, could you blame him?" Harry asked. He had taken up a position beside his companion so that they were sharing the window and both leaned out of it a bit. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to be an ass. It just kind of worked out that way."

"Yes, I am well aware."

"I said I'm sorry."

"I know. I heard you."

"Wanna go down there later?" he asked instead of perpetuating that line of conversation. "I'll bet no one's been down to see him lately."

"Including us," Draco noted. "Crazy. Of all the boobs they've got teaching us, I never expected to like that one."

"Hey-"

"I meant that with the utmost respect and affection, thank you very much," Draco defended himself. "I happen to like Care of Magickal Creatures."

"Mm."

"So, what else do you want to do today? We missed breakfast already."

But Harry was already sitting down on his own bed and rooting the pile of packages on his night stand. "Hey, Draco?" he said. "Come here. Fred and George sent us something."

"What is it?" asked the blonde as he ta sea seat beside the darker boy.

The package looked like it was from a three-year-old. It was about the size of a coffee pot and wrapped in at least a dozen different styles and consistencies of paper. The tag read 'hArrY an draCO' in what looked -and smelled- like Muggle magic-marker.

"That looks fuckin' scary," Draco noted.

"Yeah, it does. Well... shit. Where to start?"

"Don't tear the edges," warned the blonde boy. "You'll blow us up for sure!"

"I know better than that," Harry said as he continued to look over the package. "All right. You got some scissors?"

"You want to risk electrocution?" he demanded.

"No, I think that if I cut into the centre, we'll be fine."

"All right, Harry. But if we die... hell. We die, then, huh?"

"They've never sent me anything lethal before. At least... not to my knowledge. Besides, it's Christmas. They'd save the lethal shite for Halloween."

"Hmph. Not likely." Harry raised a brow. "They're more likely to send fuzzy, pink bunnies for Halloween and exploding bats or something for Christmas."

At that, Harry had quite a laugh. "I wish I could argue," he giggled, "but I can't. Where are those scissors?"

"I told you already, we're not risking electrocution."

"Fine." Harry glanced over the package, scrutinizing it carefully. "Draco, what's the only paper they've repeated?"

Now it was the blonde's turn to scrutinize the package. After a moment's consideration he answered, "I think that shite with the skulls is- Wait a sec. That cat paper gets repeated, too."

"All right," Harry stated, considering his next move.

"Go with the skulls," offered Draco.

Choosing a square of skull paper, Harry gingerly tore into the package. A loud buzzing filled the room, followed a moment later by a laugh track and an applause. Both boys blinked.

"I think we guessed right," Harry said, a little dazed still from the loud noises.

"If we guessed wrong-"

"Hey, this is pretty neat," Harry muttered, unintentionally cutting Draco off as he gazed at the assortment of sweets and small toys that the basket contained. "I wonder what all this stuff does?"

"Lets find out," Draco said as he selected a pink and yellow ball of fluff and popped it into his mouth. After chewing for a second, he grinned. "This is good," he said, amazed. "Really. You should try one of these."

"Huh-uh," Harry grunted. He was now looking over a piece of paper that had various scribbles all over it. "That shite's pure, concentrated sugar. One of those'll set you off for hours. Draco! Stop eating those!"

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence. (It is rather difficult to look innocent when one is oozing pink and yellow goo from the corners of one's mouth, though.)

"Great. Now I'm going to have you hyperactive all fuckin' day." He picked up a toffee and glared at it. "What do you think these do?"

"Looks like a Fizzing Whizzbee," Draco noted as he popped another fluff ball into his mouth. "Maybe they explode now, huh?"

Harry dropped the Whizzbee-lookalike back in the basket. After sifting through the contents for a moment, he picked out two small stones, one red and one black. They sat on his palm for a second before they instantly morphed. The red stone became a small, swanlike bird with some gold plumage amongst the scarlet. It fluttered a few millimetres above his hand and burst into flame. A second later, it reemerged from its ashes and repeated the process. The black stone, on the other hand, was a tiny replica of the Hungarian Horntail that Harry had had to steal a golden egg from during the TriWizard competition two years earlier. The only difference between the model in his hand and the model that he still kept wrapped in a sock in his trunk was that this model would go back to being a dragon once it didn't have body heat to activate it.

"That's really neat," Draco noted as he watched the creatures twist and curl about themselves. "What are they?"

Once more, Harry picked up the sheaf of paper and frowned as he read it. "Percy made them. They're a new sort of totem charm, I guess. They're calling them Familiar Figures and they're supposed to represent a person's familiar animal, I guess. That's what Percy was after, anyway."

"So, who's the dragon and who's the phoenix?" asked Draco. "I've never really fancied myself as much of a protector, and you've never technically burst into flame."

Despite himself, Harry laughed. "That statement works both ways," he said after a moment of consideration.

"I would beg to differ," Draco said as he took the phoenix stone from Harry's hand and placed it in his own. "I've always felt really safe with you. 'Course, knowing that we've got essentially the same body doesn't hurt."

"Are you saying you've burst into flame, then?" Harry asked. Before Draco could answer, another thought had already occurred to the Gryffindor, causing him to break down in hysterical laughter. "You're a flamer!" he cried.

"You're an asshole!" Draco cried back. "Fuckin' wanker."

"Fuckin' child," Harry giggled. "I didn't mean anything by it, Draco, I swear."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he muttered. "I know." He placed the stone on his night stand and took the basket from his companion. As he rooted through it, Harry watched. A moment later, Draco came up with several differently coloured phials. "What do you suppose these are, Harry?" he asked as he turned one in the light. It was a glittery green liquid that reflected light from every angle.

"George did mention something about recreational drugs," Harry mused. "Oh, wait. That was the other business."

"You're such a fucking dork sometimes, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Does that say what they are?" he asked with a gesture at the paper.

"No," Harry replied as he glanced over the paper. "It still has the totem stones. This is totally fucked, you realise. They don't tell us anything about what they've given us until we've already messed with it."

"Wanna mess with one of these, then?" he asked as he turned an iridescent purple vial in the light. This one had tiny faces floating about in it. Each face would only stay for a moment before turning into another face, and still another so that they were constantly changing.

"I'm not swallowing anything with eyes," Harry stated as he glanced skeptically at the vial. "Who knows what that stuff'll do?"

"I could make a few educated guesses," Draco muttered without looking away from the purple fluid.

"Then please do."

"Ahm... Okay. I'll bet that green shite makes you horny as hell," he began. "This stuff-" meaning the purple fluid "-is probably something to induce visions or something." As he placed that vial with the rest in his hand, he picked up a translucent orange one. "This is... I don't know. Maybe it's just orange concentrate. What do you think?"

"Orange... Hmm. Probably makes you breathe fire," Harry said with a grin.

"Nah, that's what I think this one does," he said as he held up a red liquid that seemed to spark from within. "This one-" which was yellow-

"-has got to turn you yellow," Harry finished. If there was one thing for certain, he knew the attraction the twins had to turning living creatures yellow.

"Seems kinda harmless, though," Draco pointed out as though the idea was simply impossible.

"You'd like to think that. It's at least semi-permanent. I'll bet it takes weeks to wash off, though."

"Hmm. So which one do you wanna take?"

"I don't want to take any of them." Draco glared. "But whichever you pick will be fine, I'm sure."

"Do you think we'll both get it, or do you think they've figured out how to give us separate reactions?" he asked as he looked over a dull, midnight blue phial.

"I don't see how they could," Harry replied rather bitterly. "It's not like there's all that much information on bonded people, so how could they do the research required?"

"They've got Percy," Draco stated.

"Point taken. But I still don't think so."

"You wanna do this one?" He meant the midnight blue liquid.

"I still don't think we should, Draco. I don't like ingesting anything that I can't identify."

"You've just got to live a little once in a while," Draco said. "I would love hanging out with you if you'd quit being such a fuckin' pansy-ass about everything all the time. Let yourself go once in a while. It might do you some good."

"Letting myself go is not the issue in question," Harry stated irritably. "I just don't like swallowing unheard of potions. Do you know what that shit'll do? No, you don't."

"Harry, look at it logically. The twins love us. They like fucking around, but they wouldn't ever do anything to hurt either one of us. You know that as well as I do. So what's the worst that can happen? I'm sure all of this is totally painless. I'll bet this is all stuff they're getting ready to market, so it's already proven to be safe."

"Proven by who?" demanded the Gryffindor.

"Listen, you know how legitimate Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is. You know how legitimate they've been from minute go. I've seen the liscences myself and I can assure you that they've got nothing but professionals on their staff."

"When did all this happen?"

"Grand Opening," he replied without hesitation. "Fred talked about it quite a bit. If you'd have asked, I'm sure they would have told you. But anyway, Harry, I'm sure it's safe. If I'm wrong-"

"Then who knows what?" Harry cried.

"If I am wrong," he continued, frowning, "then I owe you one. All right?"

"That's it?"

"Fuck you. Just tell me it's okay because I wanna take this stuff. I'm getting bored."

"Fine. Just- Ach. Never mind. Just take it before I take it from you."

"All right, then," Draco grinned as he popped the cork out of the blue vial. "Bottoms up!"

He threw back the liquid, swallowing in one gulp. It had almost no taste, except for a slight hint of fresh, summer wind. It was cool as it slid down his throat and into his stomach. Almost immediately, he and Harry could both feel the coolness infiltrating their veins.

"Do you think this is one of their recreational drugs?" asked Harry.

"I wonder what's in this stuff," mused the de bde boy. He looked carefully at the empty vial. There was still a drop or two left in the bottom. "Think Snape'll analyse it for us?"

"Ask yourself this question: If this is one of their drugs, do we really want Snape to know that we did it?"

"Would you quit using that word! I hate it! It's not a fucking drug, already, it's just a fucking potion," Draco said with a frown. "And I could guarantee that it isn't addictive and the side effects are minimal if they happen at all."

"Yeah, I guess it really can't be all bad," Harry considered. "I mean, it has to be all natural stuff that goes into it."

"Check that list," Draco suggested.

The description of the potion they'd taken was now the latest addition to the list in Harry's hand. "This is Midnight Oil, apparently, and it's supposed to induce insomnia. Great. So, in addition to the thousand tons of sugar you've ingested, we've also just taken an anti-sleep aid."

"I'm sure there's an opposite in there somewhere," Draco assured his companion. Removing the basket from Harry's lap, he placed it back on the table. He placed his legs on either side of the Gryffindor's waist and scooted closer until only about three inches separated their bodies. Without asking permission, he pulled the glasses that Harry had only just placed on his nose off and threw them to the floor. "You don't need those anymore," he said. "Why do you wear them?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't know," he muttered.

"You know, if you want to say, 'I like hiding behind them,' you should."

"I don't like hiding behind them."

"Then why do you?"

"Habit, I guess," he replied after thinking a moment.

"Mm. You should break it."

"Why's that?"

"Because I can actually see your face without them," Draco stated in a very condescending manner. "And, as I've already told you, I do enjoy looking at you. And I think your eyes are too pretty to cover up the the time."

Harry blushed deep scarlet.

"Why does it bother you so much when I tell you what I think of you?"

"It doesn't bother me," answered Harry in too timely a manner. He sounded defee ane and he knew it.

"Then why do you get all embarrassed and shy away from me?"

"I don't do that."

"Yes, you do."

"Why can't you accept a compliment when I give one to you?" quipped Harry. "Don't make it out like this is a one-sided issue."

"Fine, we've got our issues," Draco sighed. "What's your point?"

"You tell me. You're the one who brought it up in the first place. But anyway," he thoughtfully considered, "that doesn't really seem like a big issue, you know? Not by comparison, anyhow."

"Mm."

What issues were bigger by comparison? wondered Draco. Voldemort wasn't even an issue so far as he was concerned. Eventually he would be, but that was in the future. So far in the future, he thought, that there was little point entertaining ideas about him at all. Passing their classes was simple. Both had some of the highest grades of anyone at Hogwarts, excluding Hermione. They were beginning to get along much better than they ever had before, but there was still something missing in this equation that Draco simply could not put his finger on.

"What issues are there, then?" he asked after considering possible answers for a while without success.

Harry leaned back against his pillows and frowned thoughtfully at Draco. He wondered if his partner really didn't realise how fucked up he obviously was, what with his father having attempted to murder him and succeeded at murdering his mother, amongst other things. But those things clearly didn't affect Draco like they would have affected Harry. Another difference between Slytherins and Gryffindors, Harry thought, and decided that was the most sufficient answer he'd ever come up with on that account.

But Harry knew better than to blame their problems on his partner's horrible past. The only realistic and logical source of that blame could be nothing but love. The magick that bound them permanently to one another was based solely around love. The force that was driving them to the brink of insanity was the love neither knew how to express. Love kept them apart. Because it wasn't that Harry didn't love Draco or vice versa. It was simply that lovelove they had was in constant coct wct with the emotions the bond kept emphasizing. It reminded Harry of the Imperious Curse; the only difference being that the Imperious didn't live in him like the bond did.

As time wore on, the more difficult he found it to keep his desires to himself. But the desire, he thought, wasn't that simple. It was an addiction that was too inherent to be anything other than the physical need to be joined with his other half. And as bitter as the thought of himself being two people oftade ade Harry, there were times such as those when his all-consuming instinct was 'touch' and that touch always involved Draco. Having too much self-control to pursue any unwanted relations, however, Harry had only barely managed to maintain the distance between himself and his partner.

"So far as I'm concerned, the only issue I wish you'd worry about is yourself," Harry said after considering his answer very seriously. "I wish we could start moving on; I feel like we've been in t.. l.. limbo for the last six months."

"How would you propose we get out of it?" Draco asked in a whisper.

"Short of screwing your brain out, I've got no idea," Harry sighed in utter exasperation.

Draco was thoroughly scandalised. He'd never considered Harry the type of person who would be so crude as to say something like 'screw' and especially not the type of person who would say 'screw one's brain out' so casually. He didn't even have the decency to blush.

"I can not believe you just said that," Draco breathed.

"What?" This time, Harry blushed. "Oh. Sorry."

"Besides," the blonde said, resuming his air of cool superiority, "who says I wouldn't be the one screwing your brain out?"

"Would you?" Harry asked.

There was simply too much hope in that question, Draco decided. He'd meant that -in the future- it might be an option, but in the there and then, he'd had no intentions of doing it. He'd made up his mind and he was going to stick to it. Hell or high tide, he was going to stick it out. Harry's libido be damned, he was going to stick it out. His libido, on the other hand, would simply have to be content with this, as well, much as he hated to admit it. Because, as he also hated to admit, Harry's libido was his libido.

"Why are you so obsessed with sex?"

This time, it was Harry's turn to be scandalised. "I'm not obsessed," hid, id, obviously rather insulted.

"Ha! That's rich," Draco snorted.

Harry pulled Draco closer to him, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy's waist so he couldn't escape. "I'm going to kiss you," he whispered as he brushed a lock of hair out of his partner's face, "and I want you to pay attention."

Draco had been about to say, 'I was paying attention the first time,' but lacked the opportunity when Harry's mouth abruptly met his own. Unlike their first kisses, this was slightly more practised and their eyes were also shut. His partner never hesitated in any way and neither did he. Their fused lips parted simultaneously, allowing them to devour each other completely. If anyone had been watching, they would have assumed that the boys were trying to eat each other alive. Draco had fallen so into the kiss that he'd not noticed he had wound his body very tightly around Harry's. His arms were around Harry's neck and his legs wrapped around his waist. Similarly, Harry's hands went to his lover's pale fastrostroking adoringly and very lightly.

The tingling they'd experienced at the first tentative touches had escalated into a riot of each and every cell in their bodies. Everything that comprised their physical beings was on fire with a heat to rival the very sun. As their combined saliva swam about their combined mouths, they understood the physical meaning of the bond. They were one person. Not two people in one body or even one person in two bodies, one person total.

An image of Harry, lying in his bed in the infirmary flashed through Draco's mind, then into Harry's, though he didn't pay much attention. The arm that his 'friends' had massacred was lying bandaged on top of the blanket. He looked so small, even in memory. The significance of this was rather lost on the Gryffindor, for though he'd heard every word the blonde boy had spoken, he'd failed to understand the implications of what he was saying.

"What did you say?" Draco demanded as he wrenched himself out of the kiss.

"I didn't say anything."

"What the hell do you mean the implications were your intentions?" he asked, suddenly not so angry and rather more puzzled. "Harry... love... like what this bond needs... is more than what we can give to each other right now. You aren't ready to die for me, so-"

Harry's smile cut off Draco's words. "Doubt me not; I'll never let you down."

"Prove it."

"Prove it," the Gryffindor repeated stonily, George's words echoing in his mind.

"Yes. Prove your love. Hold my hand when we walk down the hall and you automatically lose if you let go because someone laughs," Draco stated seriously. "Including Weasley."

Harry gulped. "Okay," he said. "Okay."

Draco smiled a little and leaned back on his elbows. "Harry... I've been thinking, and I've come to a conclusion." Harry raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. "This bond... doesn't manufacture any emotions. It intensifies a lot, th." h." He fell silent for a moment and while he gathered his thoughts, he began absently picking flecks of lint from his companion's shirt. "And the more I know you, and the closer we become... who we are... becomes more intense. The need I feel to be with you is getting to be almost unbearable. But... it's not enough the way it is. I... I need you to... I don't know. Love me more outwardly, I suppose. I donnow.now. Show the world you're not ashamed of us. I'm certainly not."

"Not anymore," the Gryffindor corrected without sounding accusatory.

"No. Not anymore. Honestly... maybe since I knew what it was about from that first morning, I can accept it a lot easier," Draco mused. "Since Antha first told me you were my bonded and what that meant-"

"You mean you know?" Harry demanded, flabberghasted.

"Don't you?" asked the other boy, an expression of confusion on his face.

"Er..." he faltered, trying not to sound stupid, because he most certainly felt it at that moment. "I don't know. No one's told me, if that's what you're asking."

The confusion left Draco's face to be replaced with a look of understanding and excitement. "Then... just knowing what you do, all the things inside you, from yourself only... what do you think it means?"

"It means... we're partners. Forever. In every way," he replied very quietly as he refused to look at Draco's face.

"Hn," the blonde hummed thoughtfully. "That is the gist, yes."

"So what am I missing?"

"You're missing... Harry... we're one in the same, now. We're meant to think as one in the same because we are. When people do this voluntarily... it means they are choosing to... What do you know about Alchemical bases?" he asked, turning the conversation around completely.

"What?" Harry demanded, suddenly very lost.

"Do you know that, in legend, when red sulpher and salt combine, they create soing ing different altogether," explained Draco, very enthusiastically and also very clinically. "Traditionally, the union is between a man and a woman, so the two facets of the one can be one again, but plenty of queers have existed throughout history. 'Cause aside from Johan Wallabaker and Joan of Arc, I'm almost dead positive, Pontias Pilate was, too. But anyhow-"

"Johan Who?" Harry interrupted absently, though he had been paying very close attention.

"The guy who started the Revolution of the Sevenondeonder of- History of Magick is a required course; we even take it together. How come you don't know jack about it?" Draco demanded rather irritably.

Harry shrugged noncommittally. "Binns has got droning down to a fine art."

"Yeah, I know. Still... where we come from is so vital to who we are-"

"Huh," Harry snorted. "The only vital part about the Dursleys was-"

"-that they raised you your whole childhood," Draco finished. His expression softened as another thought crossed his mind. His eyes seemed to clear a little more as he stared earnestly up at Harry. "What did they do to you to make you so..?"

"Jaded?" offered Harry with a sigh. "Draco... they're just... what's the point, anyway? I don't have to go back to them ever again, so what do they matter?"

If not for the fact that he had Draco sitting on his lap, Harry would have gotten up and begun pacing. As it was, he squirmed uncomfortably as he couldn't really avoid the other boy's unwavering gaze. He felt his companion's hands spread over his chest and the butterflies in his stomach began acting up. His irritation was gone with the simple gesture that seemed to illustrate so much.

"They matter as much to you as my parents mean to me," he replied so quietly, Harry had to hold his breath and lean a little closer to hear. "They're the ones who taught us about the world. For whatever that's worth, of course. I just want to know what they did to make you see the world as so... impotent."

Unsure of how to respond to such a statement, Harry blinked a few times. He didn't see the world as impotent. In fact, he found life at Hogwarts to be much more enjoyable than Muggle life. He had friends and knew about his family in the wizarding world. He finally found a place that he could fit in. But at the same time, he also considered that every time something wonderful happened, it always fell just short of its potential. The only t he he could recall that ever went without a hitch was the winning of the Quidditch Cup his third year. That was the only day he'd ever lived that hadn't been spoiled by ill feelings or an ill body.

"You know, Harry... what we've got between us is so unique... no one's documented a thing about it for well on five hundred years. That is to say... it's been about five hundred years since anyone else was allowed to really feel what it's like to love. This bond... the thing doesn't live within us, it is us. It allows us to... reach the highest high that humans can really reach," he explained in his almost-silent voice. When he looked up into the other boy's face, his expression was inscrutable. "Don't you understand? We've got love, Harry, in the most literal of ways... love so intense, it's binding us together."

"It's the ingredients of that potion that bind us together," Harry muttered, just as quiet as Draco.

"That's the catalyst, that's all. Of course... we'd likely be going nutters if we didn't feel something for one another, you know."

All of this was said in such a clinical manner that even Harry, whose temper was still bubbling rather frequently, was forced to look at their situation objectively. "I'm not ready to die for you," he stated, sighing a bit tiredly. But as he examined the other boy's face, a small smile stretched his mouth. "But I will accept your challenge."

"Oh, and one other thing," Draco said, smirking defiantly. "You've got to study with me every night. I'm tired of doing everything by myself all the time and your grades are shite, Potter. I'm not going to accept this when I know you're a better wizard than you let on. It's all fine and good to be tied to Harry Potter, but you've got to realise that even you aren't above being made fun of for your marks. And I'll be damned before I take anyone's shit for your laziness."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Harry demanded, once again aghast.

"I'm your other fucking half, that's who I am," Draco answered in a low hiss. He was leaning in so close to the other boy that he could feel his hot breath on his face. "I am your back. Don't you ever forget that." As soon as he was through speaking, Draco leapt off of Harry and off the bed. He looked rather frustrated. "I am your back. Do you know what that means, Harry? Explain it to me, please."

But Harry's vocal chords wouldn't work. He kept opening his mouth, but no sound came out. He'd never thought of things the way they were being explained.

"When I say that I am your back... I mean to say that I'm the one who's watching it. You watch mine. This is give and take in equal measure from the both of us," he insisted earnestly. "We watch out for one another. We're fucking partners, Harry. Do you understand what that means?"

"But... we didn't choose this..."

Draco's insides chilled. He hoped Harry's heart was aching as badly as his was. He narrowed his eyes. "No. We didn't. But that's how it is. You're my... fate chose you to be at my side forever, for whatever reason, I'm not altogether sure, but it did. So I want you there, goddamnit. I've been waiting too long for you to cope. Just deal. The only way we're going to survive this is if we quit fighting it. I'd like to welcome it; I've been trying. But your insistence upon continuing to hate me is slowly driving me insane, Harry." He tangled one hand in his hair, looking rather desperate. "Our past is shit, I fucked it up mostly on my own, but... it's done and there's no point in holding onto it indefinitely. I want so badly to just be able to live, you don't know. I don't care to go shagging just yet and I don't want to go- never mind. I just... want to be able to sit and talk to you without you freaking out about the stupidest little things. I just want you to relax so I can relax so we can start sleeping at night and..."

As he watched Draco trail off, Harry made some silent decisions. That self-conscious, worrisome individual before him was most definitely not his Draco. He liked the self-assured daredevil his partner usually was. And it was his own fault that Draco had become so different. With a small smile, he beckoned the other boy back into his arms. "Come here, love. Sit with me a bit, huh?"

Sighing heavily, Draco flung himself into his lover's arms and breathed in the scent of his clothes. "Why do you hate me so bad?" he asked, the sound muffled in Harry's clothes.

"I dohatehate you," he stated. When Draco looked up and was about to remark on this, he added, "When I did, though, it was because you're a right little prig at times, and I am being more than liberal when I say this."

Though he didn't want to agree, Draoundound that he had to. He didn't have to say it, for which he was grateful. Harry had squeezed him just a bit tighter and rested his head upon Draco's.

"Really, though... you're right," he continued with a sigh. Hot tears stung his eyes, but that was all; they never spilled. "My temper has been rather atrocious lately, hasn't it?"

The blonde boy snorted a bit, then squirmed about so he could fit his whole body in his lover's arms. "You're just too sensitive sometimes, you know. About the silliest little things..."

Privately, Harry decided that being 'too sensitive' was better than being completely without feeling, as he often thought his partner to be. But in his effort to maintain the positive air the two had created between them, he kept silent and wondered what it had taken to make Draco crack.

"Draco... this Antha you're always talking about..? Who is she?" asked the Gryffindor, keeping his voice light.

Much to Harry's surprise, the other boy smiled. "Actually, she's really quite fascinating," he said offhandedly as he thought about how to begin. "I... met her when I was trying to get away from my father and- and I found her cabin in the woods. She's like... the Faerie Queen, if you can dig that."

Harry's eyebrows were at his hairline. "You spent the summer with the Queen of the Faeries?" he stated rather disbelievingly.

"Yes, I did," he replied, still grinning.

"Draco... that's just a myth," Harry informed him very gently, as though this information might make him very angry.

But Draco only shook his head. "It's only a myth now because she's so hard to find."

"So how did you find her, then?"

"It seems... mortals can only find her when they're in grave peril," he replied, his voice having softened. "And the peril we were in at the time seemed to qualify."

"And she actually let you stay with her?"

"She's the one who made us well, you know," Draco said, frowning up at Harry. "Madame Pomfrey didn't have to do much to you, did she?"

Harry thought on this a moment before replying, "Not really, come to think of it."

"And she let me stay because... she knew what happened to us before anyone else did."

This did not convince the Gryffindor. "How did she know?" he asked, his voice rather cold.

"She knew just by looking at me," he sneered back. "She's that good at seeing how people feel; physically and mentally. Her magick is older than the drivel we learn here, you know. Her magick is of her people alone and no one else in the world can learn it just right. She's taught me a few small things, but... she says I'm better at Faerie magick than most, but I still couldn't get the glamours quite right. She had me conjure up a Changeling once. It came out pretty good, but... I just couldn't seem to get the ears to look like human ears. They kept coming out kind of pointy!"

Silence answered Draco's statement and he looked up to find Harry with a most surprised expression on his face. "What is it?" he asked the Gryffindor.

"You could create a Changeling?" he gasped in awe.

"Yeah. It's really quite simple, if you understand the principles behind innate magick and transference of energies. Faerie magick is old, and its basis is very simple. In fact, Faerie magick is one of the simplest kinds of magick in existence! Humans have a hard time with it because we like to complicate things; we refuse to see things just for what they are. At least... that's what Antha always says."

"But, Draco... you created a Changeling! No human's ever managed that!"

"Hm. I kind of doubt that, but-"

"No, I'm serious. Let me up, I need a book."

"Woah. You've been cracking books behind my back, have you? And what, pray, led you to doing this?" asked the blonde boy as he rolled aside so Harry could get up and begin rummaging through his bookbag.

"You remember that lesson Hagrid was giving us on Doxies? Well... I remember reading about how they're sometimes used for the heart of a Changeling, but every time a wizard attempts to, the Doxy like... multiplies or somesuch." He was scanning pages of a rather thick volume entitled Wood Sprites, Water Nymphs, and Other Maleficent Beings.

"I never used a Doxy," Draco stated.

"So what did you use then?" asked the other without looking up from his book.

"Well... myself, I guess. Wicked thoughts and intentions and stuff."

Harry propped the book open on his lap and looked up at Draco. "Keep going."

"Well... if you put enough energy behind a few wicked thoughts, naughty things that might make people think ill of you, and ball it all up, it can become the heart of a transient being like a Changeling. They're meant to mess with a person, not really harm, but they're definitely something I wouldn't want hanging around in my house. So when the person who the Changeling has been created for gets rid of it, it can just... it like dissipates, if you will. Those naughty thoughts enter into the rest of the world again."

"Do you think we could do something like that and send it in to Lucius?" asked Harry, looking rather hopeful. "Make it look like you?"

Draco smiled. Then he grinned. "That's a rather brilliant idea, that is," he muttered. "Of course... it'll take you learning how to do it, too. Maybe... I'll have to see Dumbledore tomorrow. And I'll owl her later, too. See what she has to say. Yes. I think that would be smashing."

*****

So... it's a little long and drawn out. The point I was getting at was just... expressing the changes in their relationship, I guess. It may seem as though this has happened quickly, but a month has passed since part 7. The plot truly begins to develop from this point on, so this really serves as more of a basis for character building than anything else. Please review; I love response. Thanks and cheers!