Centre of Twilight

Most of the Slytherin students had gone home. Apart from Draco and Goyle, only three first year girls remained behind and seemed to keep themselves to themselves; rarely straying from their own little corner of the common room.

And now, at just after midnight, there was no one in the room aside from Draco. He sat, curled into the corner of a heavy brocade sofa and gazed unseeing into the last flickering flames of the fire. The little flames licked up around one last, blackened log; dancing in the sooty red embers and reflecting in his silver eyes.

He’d heard them; had heard their squabble following Harry’s attempt to kiss Severus and had heard Severus’ response. He hadn’t meant to intervene and hadn’t meant for them to realise that he could hear them still but then they must know; the Nameless spell would hold the three of them together forever. And, if Severus hadn’t been so thoughtless, if he hadn’t pushed Harry and threatened to take him by force against the wall, then Draco wouldn’t have had to step in.

But, truth be told, he couldn’t help himself. He loved Harry, despite their angry words and despite Harry’s desire to rebuild his old friendships. If Draco were honest with himself, he’d agree that he had been in the wrong and had deserved everything he got. And then, perhaps, he could go back to Harry, back to living in Severus’ quarters…
Except…

Except that on the night he and Harry had split up, he’d discovered something special. He’d found that Greg had never betrayed him…that Greg still loved him in that sweet, simple way of his. After helping Greg with his revision, Draco had come back here and, without a word to anyone, they’d gone to their old dormitory and had sat up until the small hours, drinking and talking.

And, despite their very late night, Greg had still passed McGonagall’s exam.

A tiny smile curved Draco’s lips as he recalled the happiness in the man’s small eyes and the feeling of being embraced by that large frame and solid, muscular arms…

But they’d done no more than that - no more than embracing and kissing. Greg would want more, with no doubt, but Draco was reluctant to either return to their past relationship or to start a new one. Instead, he wanted to keep Greg as a special friend – especially after the shock of Blaise, Dex, Theodore and Millicent’s expulsion.

Before leaving for the train home, Vince Crabbe had given Draco and Greg a long, searching look; perhaps wondering in his dim little mind if Greg had betrayed the Slytherins too by telling Draco about the conspiracy.

“Draco?”

He jumped slightly, coming out of his reverie and turning to see Greg coming towards him. The larger man wore shorts and a dark t-shirt that showed off the muscles in his shoulders and chest.

“You staying up all night?”

Draco shook his head and offered a smile that failed to reach his melancholy eyes. His wand was…elsewhere – he couldn’t remember where, right now – and so he could only communicate with nods or shakes of his head. For various reasons, he hadn’t chosen to communicate telepathically with Greg.

“You okay?” Greg asked then, coming closer. He leaned on the back of Draco’s sofa, looking down into his face with a concerned expression.

Draco started to nod and then shrugged. He wasn’t okay but it was impossible to explain why not, even if he’d had the means to.

A soft, warm kiss was pressed to his forehead then and arms came down to wrap around him. “You need some sleep.” Greg rumbled gently and he kissed him once again.

With a nod, Draco let him lead him in to their dormitory and, once there, he lay in the darkness and tried very hard not to think about Harry in Severus’ bed.

*~*~*

When Thomas arrived in Southampton, it was still dark - although a fair number of cars were already moving about. He Apparated into the gravelled alleyway that ran behind his sister, Alison’s, house and then crunched his way across to the back gate.

The garden was still and silent; no birds sang, apparently of the opinion that it was night still and so refusing to sing the dawn chorus until the sun rose in about an hour.

The house was mostly in darkness, save for a light emanating from the kitchen, and Thomas headed for the backdoor, hoping to gain entry without fuss or detection.

Unfortunately, just as he was about to aim an unlocking spell at the door, so it opened and he found himself face to face with his sister.

She gasped, bringing a hand up to her face, eyes widening in shock and alarm. Then, “Thomas?” she demanded, far too loud.

He shushed her, edging forward and then pushing her inside and following. Once inside the brightly lit kitchen, he let her go and closed the door.

“Thomas, what the hell are you doing? Where have you been? I’ve had sodding muggle police knocking on my door. Jenna Obliviated the first pair who came but then more turned up and they’re all looking for you!”

“Jenna?” Thomas scowled, speaking of his sister in law with obvious dislike, “What was she doing here? Does Daniel know?” He asked then, thinking that his brother would have something to say about his ex-wife interfering.

“She’s staying here.” Alison replied. She tightened the belt of her dressing gown and pushed her dark brown fringe out of her eyes. “I asked her to help me with Oscar,” she explained, “and yes, Daniel knows and no, he doesn’t mind. To be honest, we spent more time looking after Oscar and worrying about you than squabbling amongst ourselves.”

She gave him a long, calculating look then, her eyes travelling over his body and taking in his general appearance. “It looks as though you’ve been taken care of, at any rate.” She sniffed. “Where did you spend full moon?”

“Some friends – I told Daniel, didn’t he say?” Thomas replied.

“No,” his sister frowned, “he didn’t. But then clearly he’s been keeping secrets if he didn’t tell you that Jenna was helping me look after Oscar.”

Thomas shook his head, dismissing the matter entirely. “Look, Alison, I can’t stay long. I just came to get Oscar and then I’m going again.”

“Er…” a new voice began, “I don’t think so. You really think you can just turn up out of the blue and then disappear again with no explanation?”

Thomas gritted his teeth and turned slowly. “Jenna.” He greeted his sister in law sourly.

“Thomas.” She returned evenly and then moved further into the kitchen to tap the kettle with her wand.

“Look,” Thomas said to Alison, his tone placating, “I don’t have time to tell the whole story and I don’t have time for a psychological analysis,” he sneered at Jenna. “I just want to get Oscar and go.”

“Without telling us where you’ve been.” Alison responded flatly. “Or what’s been going on?”

“Or where you’re going?” Jenna added.

Thomas sighed, fighting to hold on to his temper. “I can’t tell you where I’m going – I promised I’d keep it secret – and, as for what’s been going on, I’m sure the police have filled you in.”

A sudden sound from the front of the house, like the squeak of a gate, drew Thomas swiftly to the front room. From the shadows, he peered suspiciously through the front window but there was nothing there.

“It’s just the gate,” Alison said, following him. “The latch doesn’t close properly and the wind blows it.”

“Who were you expecting, anyway?” Jenna asked softly.

“Death Eaters,” Thomas breathed turning his face towards them. A street light caught the side of his face and flared in one amber eye. For just a moment, Alison recoiled slightly; reminded once again that her brother had changed in recent years.

“Oh gods,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You killed her, didn’t you? Just like the policemen were hinting at. You killed Liselle and then ran away. Why, Tom?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped, taking a step towards her. “I loved Liselle – she was the mother of my son. We were supposed to be getting married, remember?”

“Then…what?” Jenna frowned, confused.

Thomas, though, ignored her and stalked into the hallway. Once there, he realised that he was being watched and lifted his gaze to meet that of his son.

Oscar, dressed in Martin Miggs pyjamas, bare feet scrunched on the stairs carpet, regarded him with solemn hazel eyes. He didn’t move and didn’t speak but simply gazed at his father with mild reproach.

Thomas swallowed around a lump in his throat and, unable to speak, just held out his arms. And with slow, careful footsteps, Oscar came down and finally let himself be hugged.

“I missed you,” Thomas said hoarsely. “Have you been good? Has Aunty Ali looked after you?”

Oscar nodded and replied, “Aunt-Ali take me to the park. Big boy swings!”

“You went on the big boys swings?” Thomas repeated, tears filling his eyes.

Oscar nodded and then pulled away, looking over Thomas’ shoulder at Alison and Jenna. “Coco Pops.” He requested with all the presumptuousness of small children the world over.

“Weetabix.” Alison shook her head, “Coco Pops have too much sugar.”

“Let him have what he wants,” Thomas said, burying his face against the tiny chest.

“Thomas, don’t assume you can -” Jenna began.

“Don’t assume?” he flared, standing up swiftly, lifting Oscar as he went. “Don’t assume I can treat my son any way I like? Don’t assume that I can’t bloody indulge him? Now? When I haven’t seen him in weeks? When his mother’s -” But then he stopped, closing his mouth with a snap and looking back at Oscar again.

Oscar frowned at his father and placed one tiny hand over Thomas’ mouth. “Daddy said bad word.” He complained, giving him a look.

Thomas smiled around the hand and started to apologise when a sound, so soft only a werewolf’s senses could detect it, came from just outside. It was perhaps two hundred feet away and just a slight scrape – like the careful repositioning of a foot on a paving slab – but it was enough to galvanise Thomas into moving.

Swiftly, silently, he drew his wand, turned to the front door behind him and cast an impenetrable ward across it.

“Tom, what -?” Alison began but he silenced her with a look and then carried Oscar back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Thomas Mark Litworth,” Alison fumed, sounding disturbingly like their mother, “what’s this all about? What’ve you warded the front door for?”

“Is the side gate still warded?” he demanded, hurrying into the spare room where Oscar had clearly been sleeping. “And the gate at the bottom of the garden?”

“Yes.” His sister nodded, “They’re keyed to family and friends. Look, Thomas, please – just tell me.”

Hurriedly shoving clothes, toys and books into a red rucksack, one ear on the floor below, Thomas hastily explained. “Death Eaters came to our house,” he said, handing Oscar to Alison with a pair of socks and some boots. “They wanted me to join them – to join you-know-who. When I refused, they,” he made a flicking motion with his wand, “Liselle. So I,” he looked speculatively at his son. “Well, I retaliated, shall we say.”

“What?” Jenna stared at him, moving in to the room. “You mean, those policemen were telling the truth?”

Thomas shot her a dark look and continued packing. Beside him, with Oscar sitting quietly on top of a chest of drawers, Alison was shaking her head.

“I don’t get it,” she confessed. “Why you? What would Death Eaters and you-know-who want with -?” And then she twigged and her dark eyes widened. “It’s because you’re a werewolf. He’s calling the dark creatures to him.”

“Evidently,” Jenna curled her lip, “dark and stupid creatures. Look, Thomas,” she said then, having captured his attention, “you can’t just snatch Oscar and go. Leave him here, with us. If you have to run, then run – but don’t take a baby with you!”

“Not baby!” Oscar interjected with a scowl, “Oscar big boy!”

“Yeah, you are.” Thomas nodded and, seeing that his sister had finished doing up his boots, he gathered his son into his arms once more and took the boy’s thick duffle coat off the back of the door, pulling it on over the child’s pyjamas.
“We’ll be okay.” He said then, “I’ll take him back to Cumbria – I mean,” he screwed up his face, angry at the slip of the tongue. “Never mind! We’ll be with friends. And we’ll be just fine.”

“But if you think Death Eaters are on their way here,” Alison said quietly, “and that is what you think, isn’t it? How can you stop them following you? You can’t Disapparate with a small child.”

At this, Thomas cast his eyes hastily around the room, finally seizing on Oscar’s special beaker. Giving it a tap of his wand, he muttered, “Portus,” before picking it up.

“Get yourselves to safety.” He instructed, giving Alison a swift kiss on the cheek. “Disapparate now – as soon as I’ve gone – and leave it a while before coming back. I’ll write to you as soon as I can.”

“Thomas, this is so stupid.” Jenna argued.

“She’s right,” Alison nodded, her eyes teary.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, settling Oscar on his hip, “But I have no choice. Oscar, hold your cup, please.” Then, as the little boy obeyed, taking hold of one handle, Thomas took the other, counting, “Three, two, one.”

And with an excited squeal from Oscar, Thomas felt the familiar lurch as he was pulled instantly away.

*~*~*

Harry woke, warm and snug beneath a heavy, feather duvet; feeling the comforting weight of an arm across his hip. He blinked slowly, gathering his wits and putting together the pieces of the previous night.

As he’d done the previous two mornings, he started to send out a searching thought for Draco but, given where he was and what he and Severus had done, perhaps that wasn’t the most tactful or prudent thing to do. And just when, he wondered quietly, had Snape become Severus in his thoughts.

‘Must be something to do with a truly earth-shattering orgasm.’ Severus’ voice rumbled within his head.

Harry smiled and moved, stretching one leg down and back, to slide his foot down the other man’s slender shin; finally resting his own foot over Snape’s and feeling his long leg against his own. It was ridiculously sensual to feel so much naked flesh against his skin and it took Harry another moment to realise that, at some point, Severus had removed his clothes.

“Speaking of truly earth-shattering orgasms,” Harry murmured, dipping then so as to bring his arse against Severus’ erection, “You didn’t really get anything in the way of pleasure, last night. I think we should work on resolving that, don’t you?”

“Hmm…tempting as that is,” Severus responded, finally opening his eyes, “you skipped dinner last night and you should probably build up your strength.”

“But I’m young,” Harry smiled, pressing back yet more insistently, “I have lots of energy!”

“Lots?” Severus purred, curling his arm tighter around Harry’s waist. He shifted, though, deliberately lying so that his erection didn’t touch Harry.

Harry murmured something unintelligible and shivered as Snape kissed the back of his neck. He was then somewhat surprised when the Potions master pulled him over to lie, facing him.

“You don’t want to take me from behind?” he asked softly, looking up at Snape with liquid green eyes.

“Hm…no.” Severus shook his head.

“You want me to get on top of you?” Harry smiled, wriggling closer. A firm hand was placed over his hip, though and the older man shook his head again.

“I don’t think we should do anymore than we’ve done already. I think we should -” He said seriously.

“What? Why not? What’s wrong?” Harry pulled away and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong, Harry. I just don’t think that you and I should -” but before he could finish, Harry was rolling out of bed with flaming cheeks and was hurrying out of the room.

‘I thought you wanted me!’ The younger man shouted telepathically. ‘You spoke of love, you…’ the words died though and Severus got a sudden volley of shared emotions: pain, betrayal and embarrassment.

‘Harry, please,’ Snape called silently after him, getting up too.

Once in the sitting room, though, he just caught sight of the younger man disappearing into his own bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

*~*~*

“Sirius, listen to me; there is nothing we can do!” Remus implored while his lover paced the floor like a caged animal. “We only have a vague idea of where Thomas has gone and -”

“Remus, we know where he’s gone. It says so in his note: he’s gone to get his son!” Sirius retorted, bristling.

They’d woken to find Thomas’ note and now, at nearly midday, tempers were getting frayed and patience was wearing very thin.

“Yes,” Remus struggled to remain calm, “but where is that? All we know is that his sister lives in Southampton. It’s a big place! Thomas could be anywhere, Siri, and, before you ask, no we can’t go looking for him.”

“No need.” Sirius responded, coming to a sudden stand still. He stared out the front window with all the poise of a gazehound and, coming to stand beside him, Remus saw where his attention lay.

Thomas was walking up the lane towards them, carrying a small boy upon his shoulders and pointing out various items of interest in the hedgerow. He looked genuinely happy as he glanced up every now and then to see the look of interest on his son’s face

“I don’t know whether to hug him or kill him.” Sirius growled.

“Make sure he and the boy are okay and then kill him.” Remus smiled. He moved then to open the front door, just as Thomas and Oscar reached the front path.

In that same instant, everything seemed to happen at once. From where he remained by the front window, Sirius gave a sudden, alarmed yell, pressing forward and banging on the glass to get the younger man’s attention. Simultaneously, Remus opened the door, heard his lover’s yell and saw what had caused the panic.

Three Death Eaters had appeared out of nowhere – evidently Apparating from who-knew-where – to stand just behind Thomas. Further down the lane, another two Death Eaters Apparated and, after just a second, started running towards the cottage.

“THOMAS!” Sirius shouted, now moving towards the front door too, “Thomas, get in here!”

The young man, suddenly realising what was going on, swept Oscar off his shoulders and broke into a run. Behind him, the Death Eaters had come to a halt before Remus’ protective wards but it wouldn’t take them long to break through. Nor did it stop one of them from aiming the Killing curse at Thomas’ departing back.

The spell flashed a brilliant viridian green and he fell, his son spilling with a terrified scream onto the stone path.

“Thomas!” Remus shouted, unable to believe what his eyes were telling him. He moved without thinking - without considering the danger of his actions - and seized hold of Oscar’s duffle coat. The boy, in turn, twisted and made to grab for his father but only succeeded in pulling the red rucksack to him.

“Remus!” Sirius shouted a warning from the narrow hallway and then cast a swift series of spells over his partner’s ducked head. In a flash, Remus grabbed the little boy and hauled him inside, rucksack and all, pushing Sirius back out of view with a volley of snarled curses.

Once inside the cottage again, the two men moved automatically; responding to their carefully choreographed evacuation drill. There were pre-packed rucksacks in the cupboard beneath the stairs, filled with sleeping bags, food in magically preserving flasks, warm winter clothes and a magical flare linked directly to Dumbledore’s floo.
Sirius grabbed these as Remus snatched up the little figurine from the mantelpiece, altering it at once into a portkey.

“No, Remus – we’ll Disapparate!” Sirius shook his head.

“We can’t. He’s too small!” Remus countered, indicating Oscar with a nod of his head. The small boy clung to him in silent terror, his eyes large and round.

Sirius growled something unintelligible and then nodded, coming across with the rucksacks and taking hold of the figurine too.

“Ready?” Remus looked up at him, breathing rapidly. Before his lover could respond either way, however, the portkey was activated and pulled them away, leaving the cottage and Thomas’ lifeless form behind.

*~*~*

‘Harry,’ Snape said silently, sitting on the floor outside the closed bedroom door and leaning against the wall, ‘come out and talk to me, please.’

Angry silence answered him yet again but the Potions master had experience with being patient. He pulled his bathrobe tighter around himself and sipped his coffee. Since Harry’s hasty departure, Severus had opted to let him calm down and had used the time to shower, shave and make them both a cafetiere of coffee.

‘You might as well go away,’ Harry’s telepathic voice filled his head, ‘because I’m not coming out.’

‘Stop being childish,’ Severus retorted sharply, ‘if you’d let me finish earlier, instead of flying into a hissy-fit like some over-pampered little prince -’

The door opened in a rush and Harry marched out, wearing only a white cotton shirt.

“How dare you?” he demanded hotly, “You take me to bed, half-seduce me before announcing that you don’t want to take it any further and then – AND THEN,” he shouted, “you have the bare faced cheek to call me an over-pampered little prince?”

Snape smirked at him though and tilted his head to the side, his eyes roving over Harry’s body. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing his collarbones and a mere suggestion of the planes of his chest. The bottom of the shirt, meanwhile, just skimmed the tops of Harry’s slender, Quidditch-player legs. And when he breathed in, the shirt rode up very slightly.

“I would say, Mr Potter, that it is you who have bare faced cheeks.” His eyes glittered then in a way that set Harry’s heart pounding and almost made him forget all about being angry, hurt or indignant.

“Stop that,” he pouted, making a futile attempt to pull his shirt lower.

The ebony eyes glittered again and an eyebrow lifted to added effect. “Stop what?”

“Stop that. You said you didn’t want me,” Harry replied, dropping down to crouch on the floor.

“I never said anything of the sort,” Snape shook his head. “You interrupted me before I could say anything other than ‘I don’t think we should do anymore than we’ve done already’. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you. In fact,” he reached out suddenly and tugged Harry forward so that he had no choice but to kneel astride the man’s lap, “I want you all too much.”

“Like you wanted a kiss all too much?” Harry smiled, his anger evaporating in a rapid heartbeat.

“Mmm.” Severus responded and pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the young man’s lips. This kiss went on for quite a while and, by the time they came up for air, Harry’s erection was happily tenting the front of his shirt.

“However,” Snape said then, licking his lips, “whilst I’m quite happy to kiss and…” he floundered for the word.

“Play?” Harry suggested. Unable to help himself, he took hold of his own cock and squeezed it lightly in an effort to relieve the throbbing pain.

The action caught Severus’ attention though and for several seconds, he entirely lost his train of thought.

“Er…yes, play,” he breathed, unable to remove his gaze. He shook himself. “Whilst I’m quite happy to kiss and play, I don’t think we should actually make love until you’re…er…older.”

“How much older?” Harry asked, still idly stroking himself and relishing the sense of being the centre of Sev’s attention.

“Um…don’t know,” the Potions master replied, sounding uncharacteristically vague. “A bit older.”

Held in the man’s arms, sitting across the man’s firm, toned thighs and thoroughly enjoying the feel of the man’s eyes on his cock, Harry decided there and then that he could cope with waiting – just for a while, at least.