Unlikely Beginnings

It was the middle of the night when Severus rolled over in his bed onto his back, absently scratching at his arm. He frowned in his sleep, unable to stop scratching, pulling at the skin. Suddenly, he stilled and his frown deepened before he even opened his eyes to see where he was scratching. It was his Dark Mark. He sighed, knowing he would never be able to get back to sleep, whether or not he had to go to a meeting now or if he was having an agitated dream about slicing a chunk of his skin off to rid himself of the poisoned tattoo. That would be no use, and he knew it; it was more than skin deep.

Flipping the covers off himself, Snape stood up from the bed and reached for his boots. There was no use in removing clothing to get into bed here; it'd be freezing cold, and, in times just as this, he could be called at any time of day, or night, as it were. It was dark in the room; he reached for his wand and after a muttered spell, he could now see to lace his boots. He didn't particularly need the light to do it, and he knew he was taking entirely too much time about this, since the mark on his arm kept burning, urging him to meet his master.

When he was ready, he gripped his wand in his hand as he left his room and made his way down the halls with only the light from the tip of his wand. Only one shifting wall before he found the room he was in search of, and he knocked on the door. It opened a moment later, and Severus stepped through. He wasn't surprised to see that, besides Lucius, he was the only Death Eater present, but he did have to wonder if the Dark Lord kept Lucius up twenty-four hours at his disposal, as the blond was sitting across from Voldemort, waiting for him as well. He looked smug, but a bit tired as he rose from his chair and inclined his head to look at Snape.

Voldemort raised a hand and gestured for Snape to come closer, and with a small flick of his wand, the door was shut and Severus had made his way across the room to stand before the Dark Lord. Voldemort stood slowly, and made a sweeping gesture with his eyes before they settled on Snape's own and stayed there. They were about the same height, Voldemort a slight bit taller, and he stood in front of Snape, silent for a moment before he began. "You did not wish to come here," Voldemort whispered to him, yet it was still loud enough for the other occupant of the room to hear.

Snape looked warily at the man, and raised an eyebrow as he spoke, "No, I was rather enjoying a game of chess with Macnair, or would have been if he didn't keep cheating." Voldemort stared back into his Potions master's eyes, and Snape forced himself not to flinch at the subtle invasion into his mind, searching his thoughts once again. He'd known Voldemort had gone looking earlier, but this time he was going towards something specific.

"Do not lie to me, Severus," he said, and Snape knew that he was calling his bluff; he'd seen something. "You did not want to leave Hogwarts," he whispered again, and then pushed further, and Snape could feel it in his mind, pulling thoughts forward that he'd rather have dribbled out his ear than let Voldemort see them. "But you had to," he continued, still pulling on the threads of thought.

"No, I didn't want to leave," Snape said, voice low and clearly starting to become angry. The more he stated things that were well known, the longer it would take to reach the thoughts that he wanted kept secret. "There are classes being held, and Aurors routinely search the school. Why would a teacher of a mandatory class leave unexpectedly for no clearly documented reason?" The edge of Voldemort's lip began to rise, forming a satisfied smirk. Snape was clearly not trying to rein in his frustration any longer, and for that, it would be his undoing, as Voldemort broke out into a full smile, albeit a cruel one.

Snape knew then that he'd left a clear trail in his mind to exactly where Voldemort wanted to be, and he cursed himself for it. "You cannot hide it, Severus; I know he's coming." Voldemort took a slow step forwards, making Snape step back, no matter how much he didn't want to. He stared back into the eyes of the Dark Lord, and he pushed as hard as he could to stop the other man from prying into his mind even further, his past thoughts, and his concerns for the boys. Voldemort closed his eyes, easing the mental contact between the two of them, but he still kept pushing forward.

He saw clips of what Severus was trying to hide, trying to repress and not leave a larger trail towards them in his mind, but he saw it regardless. He followed the twisting path of linked thoughts to what he sought. For whatever training and mastery of these skills Snape possessed, Voldemort was more powerful, beyond a doubt. Still with his eyes closed, Voldemort spoke with amusement in his deep tone, "You've led him to his death, Snape; aren't you proud of that?"

Snape didn't respond, but narrowed his eyes and tried to focus. Voldemort didn't know he was still betraying his purposes, and no matter how hard he tried to get rid of the information about Potter, he could at least try to hide his allegiance. For as deep as Voldemort had pressed, he was sure to know Potter was on his way straight to the castle; but how? He could sense the question being forced into his own mind, calling out to the answer like a beacon, wanting to coax the answer out.

Voldemort opened his eyes, and looked back at Snape. He knew he would see Draco, but would he be able to piece the two things together? While Lucius stood right behind him, wand at the ready, it wouldn't be too far of a leap, not any uncommon thought to have an image of the man's son go through his mind. To be honest, many of the Death Eaters had been caught staring hungrily after the young blond when in attendance at Lucius' home, and sometimes simply by looking at Lucius himself, and knowing all about his pretty son.

When Snape's back hit cold stone, he knew something was wrong. He knew he'd not managed to hide his thoughts, and the pressure was broken, and he felt the Dark Lord review all of his thoughts on the matter, retracing his steps to leave Snape's mind. Voldemort saw Draco clearly now, and his smile returned as his fingers closed around the front of Severus' throat, pressing and holding him against the wall in his strong grip. Snape opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd shut against the pain and intrusion and looked back at him with hisface now blank; he had nothing left to hide.

He was unprepared for a quick slap to the side of his face, and his automatic reaction was to bring his palm up to his cheek, clutching his hand over the lingering burning sensation the harsh contact had left. "Lord, please: I would never have kept it from you," he pleaded, knowing he would never let himself live it down. Snape promised himself many years ago he'd not do this again, and he'd rather cut his own throat out, even as he blatantly lied to the man before him. "I would have told you."

"When, Severus?" he asked, leaning his face in close to Snape's. "When?" He tightened the grip over the pale flesh under his fingers, and felt Snape's Adam's apple working behind as he swallowed. Voldemort knew he could never get another person inside of Hogwarts; not someone as trusted as this traitor before him, and he sneered. It had many times occurred to him that Severus worked as a double agent, but to whose side he truly belonged he was yet unsure of. Nothing of that was unheard of to him, and Snape was as much on Voldemort's side as he was on Dumbledore's, or was he?

He knew very well that Pettigrew would desert him and run back to that old fool if it looked like Voldemort was going to lose the war in the end. The question was, would Dumbledore accept his return, or would he kill the poor rat? It was logical to assume one would have to play the part, as Snape did so perfectly. Dumbledore would be much too smart to allow a known spy into his school without making some sort of deal, but the variable was Snape himself. He was the kind of man that would change his mind and not change it at all, and no one would know. Letting his eyes bore into Snape's, which still showed no fear, Voldemort narrowed his own. Good, the Dark Lord thought as he pushed further, still holding Snape's neck against the wall. He stared at Severus, searching one more time for an answer to these most puzzling questions, and before he left the man's mind, he silently made his wishes clear.

The fingers released from over his neck, and Snape took a deep breath, involuntarily. The first thing that ran through his mind was that he was glad he sent a letter to Lupin, and he hoped to Merlin that Voldemort didn't turn around for another go. He looked away from the Dark Lord's still curious eyes, over his shoulder to Lucius, who stood, still ready to kill him at a moment's notice if his Lord so commanded him. He, too, had a satisfied smirk on his lips, though it looked like it was strained. The blond usually always had something to say, and if he was holding his tongue out of fear, which is how it looked to Snape, good. Voldemort would surely tell him of his son's involvement. If Snape was lucky, Voldemort believed Draco, not Snape, was now leading Harry Potter to his death. The only reason he wasn't inclined to think otherwise, was because Snape truly didn't know if that was what the boy was doing or not. There truly was such a thing as knowing too much, and in this case, knowing not enough was the only thing that could have saved the boy.

Voldemort turned from Snape and walked back to the chairs he and Lucius had been seated in before Snape arrived, and before anything else was said, Snape fled to the door and slammed it shut behind him, making his way back to his quarters. "I believe you're raising a fine boy, Lucius," Voldemort said as he sat down across from the blond, who'd taken his seat as well. Lucius nodded once slowly, and sheathed his wand back into the base of his cane. Tomorrow, the Dark Lord thought, he'd take the necessary steps to ensure things went according to his new plans. Readying his followers for an attack on Aurors assigned to do Dumbledore's bidding was not his main concern, but perhaps he wouldn't even have to bother, if he had such a boy possessing this bold ingenuity now working for his purpose.

@>*~

Harry felt the floor under him again, and he opened his eyes slowly to what appeared to be the inside of a hotel room. He was a bit dizzy from the sudden Apparation, but when his eyes refocused, it was still a hotel room. Harry was about to ask, but he was overcome with another sudden urge to be sick. He almost didn't make it to the lavatory before his insides heaved, but at least he was past the threshold, if not actually into the toilet. Harry gasped a few times and used the back of his hand to wipe at his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he saw Draco walking towards him, waving his wand and saying something Harry couldn't hear, but in a second, the mess in front of him disappeared with a soft pfft sound.

Harry shifted and stood, giving a brief nod of thanks to Draco as his insides quivered from the abuse. He sighed, making his way into the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself. He rinsed his mouth of the foul taste left over from his vomit and looked at himself blearily in the mirror before going back out into the main bedroom. Draco had already sat down on the edge of the bed, frowning curiously to himself as he looked around. Harry joined him and did the same. He gestured to the room, curious himself as he asked, "What happened?"

"Not quite sure," Draco admitted. He stood from the bed and crossed to the window, pulling back a heavy curtain to reveal half of the moon in the mid-night sky. "We're not in Poland, at any rate," he said, looking back to Harry and gesturing him over. Harry went to the window and looked out himself, not seeing much, other than the normal buildings of any established settlement. He wondered if this was a wizarding town, but he supposed it didn't really matter much, anyway. "I'd say we're in Belarus; see that sign over there?"

Harry leaned in closer to the window, and felt his side brush against Draco's chest as he looked to where the blond was pointing. "Yeah, what about it?" he asked, still squinting slightly as he gazed at the strange letters, obviously another language. He straightened and watched Draco's amused glance at him before he moved from the window back to the bed. He must have looked like a five-year-old trying to read a big word for the first time, but he didn't care.

Harry yawned, following Draco back to the bed, though sitting on the other side, near where the bag had been set down. "What about it, is that we're within spitting distance of Russia. That makes us roughly halfway there." There was no point in stating where "there" was, because neither of them really wanted to hear it. Harry nodded, more to himself than to Draco, and he picked up the bag, settling it in his lap and opening it.

He knew some of his things were in here, but he had no idea what Draco had brought besides a pair of trousers. Draco leaned back on his elbows on the bed, staring absently around the room while Harry rummaged. "Why'd we end up inside of a hotel, instead of outside like the other times?" he asked as he pushed past the other boy's clothes. It was a bit odd, but he supposed it had been whatever Draco had been thinking about where to go next, so Harry shouldn't really complain.

"It was in the dream I was having," Draco said, his drawl a little more pronounced than usual since he was tired. "That's why we left so quickly; I didn't want to lose the memory and be stuck where we were for another few days." Harry nodded again. He'd had a vague idea that was the reason they'd suddenly needed to Apparate, but he hadn't been sure. For all he knew, Draco had been simply torturing him, making him concentrate like that while half asleep.

Harry's hand bumped something smooth and round, or more like tube-shaped, and he closed his fingers around it and pulled it out. It was a bottle of oil, and Harry held it up to read the label. "Olivia's Scented Sensual Oil?" he asked, turning his body to look at Draco, who frowned and grabbed the bottle from him, shoving it in his pocket. Harry grinned at the other boy's slightly embarrassed look, and then couldn't help but laugh a little.

"It's for my hands," Draco protested. "They get dry," he added, more mumbling now. Harry supposed he couldn't put it past him to carry something like that with him, especially considering all the cold, dry weather they spent their lives in at Hogwarts, and this little vacation wasn't much better in terms of climate. Harry stopped chuckling, and closed the bag again.

"So, what now?" Harry asked, leaning back on the bed himself after placing the bag back down beside it. "I mean, are we going to stay the night here? Someone could come in here any moment."

That thought hadn't escaped Draco, and he spared a moment to put more thought into it, and then suddenly got up from the bed and strode to a point in front of the door. He pulled his wand from his sleeve and Harry saw him purse his lips briefly before casting a spell on the door. With it sufficiently locked, Harry presumed, no one would barge into the room. Draco returned to the bed, and Harry glanced around the room some more. He was still very tired, but he wasn't sure if he could sleep if he tried. It'd even taken him a while to get used to sleeping in the dormitory at Hogwarts where many a person could come in the room at any time, whether they were supposed to or not. Now, even with the door magically locked, he couldn't help but think someone might still make their way inside and find the two of them.

They both sat silently for a minute, each lost in their own thoughts before the bed began to shift, and Harry turned to look at the blond. Draco had taken off his robe and dropped it to the floor, proof of how tired he was if he couldn't even fling it towards a chair, and was unbuttoning his shirt. Harry watched as inch by inch the pale skin of Draco's chest was revealed, and he barely realized he was staring until he looked up and saw Draco looking back at him, not quite amused, but Harry knew he wasn't disgusted by it, at least.

Harry turned away and sighed before standing from the bed and shrugging off his cloak himself and set it on their bag. It was only a moment before they were both down to their pants this time, and Draco pulled back the comforter and sheets, getting into bed and waiting for Harry to do the same. In the past few days they'd settled into a familiar position, and they both quickly assumed it. Harry pressed himself a bit deeper into Draco's side, though he was unsure if it was because he was worried someone might suddenly come in, or whether he simply wanted to be closer to the other boy.

Draco didn't seem to mind, and, in fact, Harry felt him move his body a bit closer to Harry's as well. They lay there silently for what seemed like an hour, though it must have only been fifteen minutes, and neither of them seemed able to fall asleep. Harry shifted his head, an odd sense of being watched coming over him, and he paused for a moment, ear away from the beating of Draco's chest for a moment so he could hear. Draco felt the movement, and passed it off as a normal shift of the dark-haired boy's head, but when Harry didn't put it back down, Draco turned his own, wondering why.

Harry tilted his head back to look at Draco after he felt the blond move, too, and he shook his head, indicating that he hadn't heard anything. Draco's lips parted as he nodded back, but his gaze was still on Harry, whose tongue slipped between his own lips to lick them. He didn't know what made him do it, but Draco slid down to be even with Harry and pressed his lips to the other boy's firmly. Harry opened his mouth under Draco's, feeling his tongue slide out to meet the blond's, barely consulting him first before it did so. Their tongues swirled around and along each other for a moment before Harry was surprised, eliciting a sound that conveyed so, and found himself turned onto his back, Draco bracing himself above him.

Draco looked down at Harry, flipping his head slightly to move a few stray hairs from in front of his eyes, and he had to shut them for a moment, though he instinctively leaned his head down to meet Harry's lips again. He'd been hit with a sense of déjà vu, and couldn't quite distinguish between reality and a dream. It took a moment for his body and mind to register this was real, but it was so much like his dream that he still had to wonder. He didn't want to remember the dream, especially his father, so he kissed Harry hard, trying to force a much better reality upon himself and to not let his mind wander.

Harry found his arms reaching around the other boy's back, and he quite enjoyed the slight moans into his mouth from the blond above him when he slid his hands up the smooth skin. One stopped, looped around Draco's shoulder, while the other continued up to tangle into the loose, blond hair. Harry hadn't really paid much attention to Draco's grooming habits since they'd embarked on the dangerous adventure they'd found themselves on, but it was obvious to him now that Draco had foregone his usual habit of slicking his hair back. Harry moaned himself when his fingers ran easily through the silvery, smooth, and shiny strands.

His mother had been the only one to ever play with his hair, and that was so long ago, Draco had forgotten how good it felt. It only made it better that it was in this position, and he shifted his knees lower to rub his growing erection against Harry's thigh. In the back of his mind, Harry realized what it was, but he didn't really catch on until his other hand, the one not on the back of Draco's head, was trailing down the side of the blond's body. He felt ribs sticking out as his hand passed, but he continued until his fingers hit the waistband of Draco's underwear. Whether he was being bold or just curious, it didn't matter, because Harry moved his hand further down over top of the material, and it soon came into contact with Draco's now full erection.

He started to stroke Draco's cock through his pants, smiling between Draco's kisses when the blond paused to breathe out heavily from his touches. "You'd better stop before I come in my pants," Draco whispered, his voice heavy with arousal, just as his cock was in Harry's palm. He pulled back farther from their kisses and that moved Harry's hand from Draco's groin, and it fell onto his own. Harry didn't want to stop touching Draco, but he knew the blond was right about it. If he kept on, that's what would happen.

Harry felt his own hard cock under his hand, and gave it a little squeeze, not being able to stop himself, and Draco smirked at him from above. He'd better stop that, too, or they'd both come and that would be the end of their night. He didn't want that to happen just yet, so he did stop and stared back into Draco's eyes, which he found to be dilated in the dull light to almost black instead of light blue or grey. Harry's were probably the same he realized, but he paused a moment, his mind working better after a moment of arbitrary comment. He had to consider the consequences of his next actions.

They could either continue the way they had been and simply rut together with each other until they got off, or they could go all the way. Even through the haze of lust that he found himself in, Harry couldn't forget the last time they'd gone that far, and it wasn't one of his better memories of the blond. He doubted Draco was too fond of it either, but Harry understood why it had happened. He could have held it against the blond for a long time to come, and perhaps he would, but right now, Harry believed he was ready to take the chance, and open himself up to the other boy once more.

Draco was looking down at him, a questioning look on his face, but Harry pulled him down slightly, cheek to cheek, and he whispered through blond hair to Draco's ear. "I want you," he said, pressing a soft kiss just in front of the ear before letting go. Draco felt a small shudder of delight run through him at the words, not even believing what was said, because he also remembered the last time they'd shagged, if it could even be called that. He didn't want to make any mistakes, but he supposed he'd already lessened one potential foible with already having permission.

He'd hated himself for what he'd done after the Quidditch match with Hufflepuff, and he squeezed his eyes tightly for a moment before pulling his head back to look down at the boy beneath him. "Are you sure?" he whispered back. He didn't want to make a mess of this, too, and he had still been horny from other parts of his dream. Not that he'd tell Harry that; it was embarrassing enough to have been caught in his dream, by his father, no less. Draco didn't want to push, even though he was expecting the look he received from the boy underneath.

Harry wasn't sure how difficult Draco was planning on being in the next few minutes, but he hoped they passed quick enough. He nodded his head, using his hand to pull Draco's head back down to press his lips against the blond's. He kissed firmly, trying to show he really did want it, but not hard enough to draw deeper emotions out of the other boy. Draco pulled back a few moments later, giving a small smile of apology in response to Harry's groan of displeasure at the contact being released.

Before Harry had time to voice said displeasure at having Draco's lips taken away from his own, his eyes widened slightly when the blond pulled away, but even more so when Draco moved his hands to the waist of his pants. He supposed he should have seen it coming, but Harry hadn't quite been thinking straight, and he was definitely too horny to do so now. He didn't know if Draco knew it, but he was putting a lot of trust in the blond right now. Draco hooked his fingers under the band, and Harry helped by lifting his hips slightly so that Draco could pull the pants off.

Harry shoved one foot out and was about to make more room for Draco to settle between his legs again, but the blond had gotten up swiftly to remove his own underwear. He was soon back on the bed though, and crawled half over Harry's body and leaned over the edge of the bed, to where his robe had been set, Harry remembered. Draco reached into the pocket and pulled out the oil Harry had so thoughtfully laughed at not too long ago, and he held the small bottle in front of Harry. The dark-haired boy grinned a bit sheepishly, obviously not having made the connection. Draco hadn't really, either, but he doubted he would ever miss it from now on.

Draco cocked an eyebrow as he leaned down, pressing his lips to Harry's still grinning mouth. He shifted his body to align better with Harry's, letting their erections meet before they both began to rock their hips against each other. Harry had opened his mouth to let Draco's tongue inside, moaning as he felt it swirl around his own, creating a few shudders of pent-up lust to be released. Harry hadn't realized Draco's hands weren't touching him until he felt a cool, wet fingertip slide a little way from behind his balls, down to his entrance. Draco heard Harry gasp when he pushed the finger inside, not quite slowly, but slow enough.

He stilled when Harry's body tightened around his digit, and was almost about to ask if this was still alright, if Harry was changing his mind. Harry pressed down on the finger, and Draco pulled it back, satisfied that Harry was sure about it, and added another finger. Draco added a third and stretched his fingers as wide as he could, twisting and turning them until the boy beneath him was whimpering with arousal and lust. When he felt he'd prepared the other boy as well as he could, he pulled his fingers out slowly, smirking at the throaty moan of displeasure Harry had let out at their removal.

Draco leaned back slightly to steady himself and picked up the bottle of oil from the side of the bed. He took the cap off quickly, gave himself a handful, and recapped and sent it off towards the floor. He heard it hit with a muffled thud, probably on top of his cloak, as he stroked his oiled hand over his cock. Harry watched, absently tensing his stomach, making his cock rub slightly over his skin as he squirmed, waiting. Draco wiped his hand off on the sheets to rid the excess oil before he reached under Harry's knees, lifting them up and pushing them towards Harry's chest.

He held them wide and let Harry hold one while Draco steadied his cock to the slick and stretched hole. The blond leaned forward, slowly pushing past the tight ring of muscle until he was fully encased in warm, wet flesh. Harry had exhaled sharply at the breach, and he tried to even his breathing as he looked up at Draco, his knees hooked over the blond's shoulders. Draco pulled back and pushed his cock in again, gasping as Harry tensed around him. He pressed harder, deeper into Harry's body, and felt Harry's lips on his jaw.

Draco tilted his head, letting the kisses trail across and down his neck as he thrust. He pressed his own lips to Harry's shoulder, thrusting more in a rhythm now, and it took the other boy a few moments to start pushing back against him in sync, moving with him. They both moaned as Draco thrust in and out, and Harry was starting to go insane, much to the blond's obvious delight, but he didn't want this to end too soon. He began to pull away, letting Harry's legs slip from his shoulders, and Harry's hands let go reluctantly of his neck.

Harry was about to say something, Draco knew, but he quieted him. "Shh, hold on," he murmured to the dark-haired boy, who waited as he shifted, cock still inside his body. Harry watched Draco lift a leg over his head, barely brushing against the soft blond hair, and found himself slowly turned onto his right side. Draco lay down behind Harry, holding himself up against the boy's back. He let his left hand move down to Harry's ass, pulling the cheeks apart before he pushed his cock in deeper.

The other boy elicited a gasp of pleasure as the head of Draco's cock hit a sensitive spot inside of him. Draco moved his hand to Harry's hip, holding firmly, and fingers holding tight into the skin as he began to thrust harder. It felt so good after however long it had been since they'd been together like this. He hadn't even been bothered the night before when Harry had cuddled against him. He must be getting used to it, but he knew it was more than tolerance, or at least he vaguely hoped it was, which was starting to be a strange thought for Draco.

As he rocked his hips, thrusting into Harry, hearing the boy moan, Draco pressed his mouth to Harry's neck. The hair wasn't too long, and he could mouth along the sensitive skin there, making the fine hairs stand up over Harry's back. Draco could feel the little goosebumps against his chest, and grinned, now using his teeth, dragging them over Harry's neck. Draco lost himself in the pleasure, but when he heard his name called, he opened his eyes, and felt Harry's hand over his fingers, trying to pull them up.

He'd been digging them in too hard, and he quickly let go, shifting his arm over Harry's waist, his hand brushing against Harry's cock. Harry moaned at the contact, even if it was inadvertent, but Draco moved his hand back, wrapping it around the hard length and began to stroke as he thrust. He couldn't quite keep them in time, and when he felt Harry's hand over his again, he let the other boy take over. Draco settled his hand flat over Harry's stomach, making sure not to dig his fingers in this time.

He stilled suddenly, for barely a moment, and his eyes looked down, slightly startled at where his hand was. Draco began moving again, before Harry had a chance to think his brief stop was anything more than moving a foot for traction, but his eyes remained open, staring down at his own hand over Harry's slightly protruding stomach. He hadn't even thought about it until now, and he'd certainly never touched. It seemed almost surreal that the other boy was even with child to begin with, but he knew it to be true, especially now.

Harry had stopped stroking himself, more concentrating on pressing back on Draco's cock, and he moved his hand over Draco's again, holding it there. He didn't know what the blond was thinking, but he could almost tell it was something slightly upsetting. Harry knew they'd not really talked about it, but this seemed like a step in that direction. He'd been learning with Draco that it wasn't exactly what was said that made an approach, but the emotions the blond had behind it that led to the point of him actually being able to speak about anything.

Draco had slowed his thrusts when Harry's hand settled, and he felt the other boy's fingers stroke between the gaps of his own, splayed over the bulge. He wanted to be careful now, but it felt too good. He jerked his hand out from under the other boy's, noticing the halt in moans from Harry when he did so. Draco frowned, wanting to hold onto something, and he grabbed Harry's cock in his hand and began stroking it with determination, this time able to match his thrusts into Harry's body. He was glad he didn't have to see the dark-haired boy's face right now, not sure if he could have handled it.

Harry let out a sharp gasp when Draco held his cock, stroking firmly. It felt so good and Draco's quick thrusts found his prostate and continued to press against it until Harry couldn't hold back any longer. He came in thick spurts all over their hands, his which was still on his stomach, and Draco's, his strokes slowing but slick now with some of the come. Draco loved the sounds Harry made, and thought he'd even heard his name again, before the clenching muscles became too much along his cock and his own climax followed.

Draco emptied himself into Harry, his body jerking, his breathing shallow. They lay still for a moment, catching their breaths, before Draco pulled away slowly and rolled onto his back. Harry felt alone and almost cold when Draco moved and he missed the feeling of being filled. He was happy they were being more physical again, and he reached to pull the blanket back up over them. He didn't regret it, but the look on Draco's face made him unsure of their odd relationship again. Draco was still frowning slightly, breathing deeply through his nose, his lips turned down at one corner.

He looked like he wanted to be anywhere other than where he was, and Harry didn't know whether to go any closer to him or to stay on his own side of the bed. Harry had no idea whether anything had changed now, for better or worse, in their supposed relationship. He sighed softly to himself, turning himself to face Draco, who still had his eyes closed. He felt a shift under the pillows, and realized it was the blond's arm. Harry smiled when he noticed the hand under his head was nudging him closer, and he obliged, snuggling up to Draco's side. Draco was very close to falling asleep, and he let his face relax, knowing it wouldn't do any good to be thinking of what he had been. Harry came closer, and that made him feel a bit better. He knew the other boy would be asleep soon, and he felt strangely secure being next to him.

@>*~

It was quiet in the room save for the occasional sigh from Lucius, swears muttered under Pettigrew's breath, and the spits from the fire that Snape sat in front of, staring at the flames as they licked and spat some more against the wood they burned. He couldn't remember how long he'd been there in terms of hours, but it had been a large portion of his day, and now was draining his evening of any pleasure he would have taken simply at not sitting across from the Dark Lord in his chambers. When Snape had left before, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he found himself in this position, and here he was.

He'd had at least an hour to himself, pacing the floor of his room and listening to snippets of conversation when other Death Eaters passed in the hall outside his door, before his Mark burned on his arm once more. Snape had sighed, stalking out of his room, straight to the Dark Lord. If he was going to be killed, he'd rather it be without any nonsense. He hadn't been surprised to see the other two men in Voldemort's chambers when he'd reached them, but he didn't think they'd ignore him almost completely.

Lucius had watched him curiously for a few minutes, barely looking back to his game with Wormtail to move his pieces as he kept his eyes on Snape. Of course the rat didn't speak at all, and wouldn't even look at him, but Voldemort did say something, if not much more than, "Sit with me, Severus." Snape would have doubted his own sanity at the situation if he didn't know better. It'd been, indeed, hours ago when he'd taken his seat, and the other two men were still playing their damned game. He supposed he couldn't hold it against them, and he almost wished for something more to take his mind off of where he was and why in Merlin's name he was still there.

Snape looked to the glass in his hand. He drank half of the clear-colored and strange liquor since he'd been in the room. It'd been waiting on the side table, and Voldemort watched him pointedly, not looking away, until Severus had taken a drink. If there were any poison mixed into it, it would have reacted by now, he knew, or even a potion would have drawn at his senses after so long. He sighed and shifted in the large chair he sat in, though quietly, as he didn't want to draw too much attention or project his boredom any more so.

He stared almost unblinkingly at the fire still crackling, and let his mind drift to more important things. The Dark Lord knew Potter and the younger Malfoy were on their way to the castle, but Snape wondered how they would be received, whether he could get to them first, before any harm was done. He wasn't entirely worried about Voldemort prying into his head again, since he really had extracted all the useful information already. If the man had thought Snape to be hiding something more, he would have already tried, thus, leaving Snape to think about whatever he wished.

Short of being tied to a chair, he certainly wasn't stupid enough to try and get away now, so there was nothing for him to do about it but weather his time there. If there were anything to ruin his status as a spy, it was this, though strangely enough, he still felt like he was trusted, but with the forethought he had, Snape knew he wouldn't be for much longer. Death was not a thing for him to be scared of at this point in his life, but it would more than likely cause inconveniences for others.

His body would need to be taken care of, at the very least. If he died, his possessions wouldn't matter to him, or to anyone else save a new Potions master. Teaching was something he did enjoy, but one thing was that the students didn't always necessarily share his enthusiasm over such a particular practice that was Potions. The children annoyed him more than life, but he could handle it to be doing something he loved. Snape couldn't help but try to run through potential successors in his mind and couldn't think of many. Strangely enough, Lupin was near the top of the list.

Snape frowned into his glass even as he took another sip from it, not particularly keen about the drink, but it burned, and it helped. Lupin. He'd never really got on great with the werewolf, of course, he was still bitter over certain incidents from their years together as students at Hogwarts. He'd worked hard to see past those things, and the two of them had formed a sort of bond over their troubles. Soon, Snape had found himself letting go his tight grip on past events, rather than spending his time annoyed that Lupin held the professorship for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Of course, Dumbledore would simply get a new professor for Potions, regardless of whether or not Snape would prefer Lupin to take the job on. He couldn't do both, though, and Snape had to admit, if only to himself, the other was a harder position to fill. They'd worked through a lot of animosity, and had found themselves at a stand still, the only thing left to do being to become friends, however begrudgingly. Though it was rather one-sided on that, considering Lupin's forgive and forget attitude. He'd accepted any friendly advance given, albeit with a certain amount of wariness, even if Snape was less than courteous about it. It was never his fault the events in the past other than to be bitten, but Severus couldn't hold that against him.

He was starting to miss the school, sitting in the staff room and listening to the other teachers prattle on about whatever their latest student dilemma. Snape let a deep breath out silently, and crossed a leg over his knee. With the precious cargo that Potter was carrying, Snape could only give blind hope that Harry wouldn't get himself killed. It still didn't sit well in his mind the reason how the boy's 'cargo' came to be, either. He had a mind to believe it was nowhere near a mutually agreed upon experience, and he also couldn't find himself trusting the young blond to do the right thing when they arrived. That was precisely what the Dark Lord was counting on, and Snape knew it.

He would have shook his head at the disappointment he dealt with daily in his life and what he saw in his students' lives, but it wasn't worth the effort, and neither was dwelling on the potential doom he'd led the two boys towards. Severus closed his eyes for a moment, letting his mind clear before he risked a glance at the other occupants of the room. He turned his head, looking to the other side of the room between his and the Dark Lord's chairs. Lucius was reclined in his own, looking like he had not a care in the world.

He was clearly not paying much attention to the chessboard, and he swept his eyes to Snape's as soon as he finished his move. They both wore about the same expression, boredom and curiosity, and Snape didn't feel the need to start anything, even if merely a conversation, with the man. He looked to Peter, slumped over his side of the board, ratty face screwed up into utter concentration before a triumphant smile appeared on his face. He probably thought he'd finally bested Lucius, but the blond uncrossed his arm from the other across his chest, and moved his bishop three spaces before declaring, "Checkmate."

Pettigrew sat back in his chair, throwing his hands up before letting them drop into his lap. He squinted at the board, obviously perturbed as he shook his head, cursing under his breath, though loud enough in the quiet room for all others to hear. Snape turned back, ignoring Lucius' eyes attempting to catch his again, but he couldn't escape or avoid the next pair that held him as he looked past the Dark Lord. Voldemort had his own glass raised to his lips, which were pulled thin from the tight skin over his cheekbones. There was something different in his glass to what was in Snape's, and he had no idea what it was either.

He couldn't look away from the man when he stared at him the way he was, and that only left Severus to look back. The Dark Lord no longer looked strictly reptilian, though there were some properties left, of course. He'd seen a picture of the Dark Lord when he was younger. Voldemort had been once a handsome young man, and not for the first time did Snape wonder how he came to be transformed so much, and now striving to change back.

As Snape took a closer look, he recalled the memory of the picture, a dark-haired boy with severely determined eyes, unsmiling, blinking slowly up at him from the photo before a corner of his lip raised, and Snape had turned the photo over. His hair was dark again, though not as thick and with a few streaks of grey at his temples, which was in itself such a change from only a year previous. His face was thin and pale, and his eyes no longer the abnormal red, though flecks remained throughout the blue.

Severus knew there were many potions and charms to change appearances, but this type of reconfiguration took extensive planning and rare magical properties to re-form such a gruesome look. He knew the Dark Lord had access to many other stores of ingredients other than his own, and Snape again wondered what spells and potions were used to regain the handsome face before him. It was not perfect, though it never could be; there were scars, more than just on his face. He watched Voldemort close his eyes, and reopen them towards the fire, and Snape was now free to do the same.

He had no idea how long he'd have to endure, but he just hoped he'd be alive long enough to keep the boys out of trouble and get them safely back to Hogwarts. The letter he sent to Lupin would arrive very soon, and he tried to keep his pessimism to a minimum at how his words would be read. He hadn't written explicitly, but well enough so that certain things would be conveyed. He had to keep the boy alive, no matter how much it pained him to do so, even if it meant giving his own life for those who would need it more.

@>*~

When Remus came out of Hagrid's hut, he certainly didn't expect to be startled into dropping his bucket of Flobberworms to the ground at the sight of a huge eagle owl sitting on the grass. It was apparently waiting for him, and if it could have, would have raised an eyebrow at him, but the owl was distracted by a slowly wriggling Flobberworm that had been jostled out of the pail. Remus eased down to grab the handle again as the owl viciously stabbed at the worm with its beak. It devoured the helpless worm and then looked up at Remus, eyes dark. It had a small letter attached to its leg with black string.

Remus frowned at it, and he wondered if he'd not be bleeding after he untied the letter. The owl seemed a bit more patient after eating the Flobberworm, though, and he bent down again, his hand stretched out cautiously, palm up and fingers out to show that he wasn't planning on causing harm to the large bird. He almost jerked away when the eagle owl moved its head and lifted its leg, but it simply snipped the string with its beak and hopped backwards out of range. It spread its wings and gave an awful screech before taking off into the air. Remus shook his head and watched for a moment before heading back to the castle.

He'd half expected Hagrid to be peering out his window at the bird, which really had been huge, but Remus was glad the half giant hadn't done that. Before he even made it through one corridor on the first floor as he started on his way back to his classrooms, the letter in his hand drew his attention so much that he had to stop and set his pail down, much to the chagrin of a few passing students as they couldn't help but gaze into it. The string had been left on the lawn, he realized, and he simply unrolled the parchment, which felt strange under his fingers. It might have been Transfigured, because he'd never felt such oily paper in his life. He also didn't want to think about what it had previously been.

'Lupin -

Your message was barely comprehensible,
but I managed to grasp the immediate matter
at hand. I will not be able to leave - not until
they get here, at least. I know I will be watched
closely.

He will know too much too soon, if not already. Much
is at stake, and I fear I am not capable of getting
away from here with more than myself in one piece,
if that.

His men are gathered in Lena; he is planning.
I have inescapably informed Narcissa Malfoy of her
son's absence from school.

-Severus Snape'

Remus stared at it for another moment, letting it settle in his brain. He was glad his message had been transferred adequately, but it seemed it wasn't as great as he thought it would be to begin with. The important thing was that it had reached Snape, and he'd had time, perhaps not much, to reply. He rolled the letter up again, grabbed the pail, and walked the rest of the way to his classroom. The boys must be close to their destination if Snape was really as concerned as his letter suggested.

He was almost torn between chuckling and sighing, the first at Snape's way of telling Lupin he was incompetent and the way he'd so subtly asked for assistance and the second was simply the fact that Snape had asked for help. Remus sat down in an armchair near the fireplace in his private chambers and looked absently out the window at the treetops. The Headmaster had told him his assistance would be needed, but he wasn't sure how he could have helped. Remus' thoughts had been more along the lines of taking care of things at the school, perhaps even taking over the Potions classes as well as Defense if Snape was gone for too long.

Now he knew it to be something more than simply going to Durmstrang to oversee a safe return. If Snape needed help, he would be among the first to go, as well as any Aurors that Dumbledore had contacted already. He spared a moment to realize the letter had been directed at himself, instead of Dumbledore. Lupin wasn't sure why Snape had addressed it to him, but it certainly had gone smoothly to do it that way, as he doubted it would have upon being sent to the busy Headmaster. He still had no idea what was keeping the old wizard occupied, but he had too much to think about to worry about that.

The students still noticed Harry and Draco's absence, but now they were quiet about it. There were the occasional whispers about the upcoming Quidditch match of Gryffindor's, wondering who was going to play Seeker if Harry hadn't returned by then. With Snape gone as well, there would definitely be a lot more attention being paid to the staff members by the more concerned and astute pupils. Remus sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back. He had time to relax a little before he needed to get on with his preparations for class. It was still early in the morning and he had at least an hour before breakfast.

Still, he thought, with Snape gone, there was bound to be an influx in students misbehaving with the Slytherin Head of House absent to deduct points from them at any given turn, or give detentions. There would also be some students, particularly some Slytherins, who would realize the reason behind the missing persons from Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione had come to see him almost every day, for sure on every other, asking him if he knew anything more than the time before. He couldn't say he did, but this at least was a little more detail to add to their small pile. Perhaps they'd get something that fit together, before too much attention was drawn to their soon-to-become-drastic problem.

Most students wouldn't care about Snape, as long as they received a free period to do as they pleased, but some would know, Remus would bet on it. Draco and Harry had obviously found out easily enough. Or, been told, he realized, since Harry must have been the one to instigate the trip. He shook his head, eyes still closed, with a small smile pulling at his lips. There was no way to understand Albus' reasoning behind telling the boy where Snape had been headed, but it must be for the best in the end. As he directed his mind elsewhere, since he did have other priorities, Remus wondered how on earth he was going to find what he needed in the Potions storeroom for any of his own classes.

Remus sighed. He missed Snape, oddly enough. Over the past two years, they'd grown into an awkward sort of friendship, or camaraderie, such as it was, he supposed. He missed the not-so-awkward-anymore silences that settled between them in the staffroom late at night. Remus made his way there in the evening, depositing his armload of homework and essays to grade from his last class before heading to the Great Hall. Severus always left dinner earlier than Lupin, but he was always in the staff room when Remus came to collect his papers, or simply stay there to do them. He did use it as a guise to sit with the other man, he could admit that to himself, as well as that he enjoyed it immensely, though he knew Snape would never admit to that, to himself or otherwise, Remus doubted.

After a few days of the same occurrences, Remus fondly remembered Severus bristling when he smiled over at the other man hunched over his own papers. He'd gotten up, making a sweeping show of doing so, gathering his papers and stalking from the room. The next day, he was back, and glared at Remus when he'd glanced over again. So it became that they grew closer, in a different way than most people would. There had still been the general acceptance that needed to be achieved between them, and Remus was hopeful that they'd crossed that bridge already. He didn't intend to run back and burn it for good measure, as seemed to be what usually happened in his life, though he surely wasn't about to state any demands of the friendship that might scare Severus away.

That thought was simply absurd: scaring Snape, honestly. Remus grinned to himself, still gazing absently out his window, his head now propped in his palm which was held up by his elbow resting on the arm of the chair. He didn't know if he wanted something more out of the friendship, he didn't know what he wanted at all, really, but he could tell something was there. No matter how small or minute it was, or no matter how begrudgingly Snape tried to hide or suppress anything, Remus could see it there. He'd never told his friends, but he'd never hated Snape, or even disliked him at all. He didn't see the point in saying so either way, but they assumed he felt the same way about the Slytherin in their days at school.

Sometimes he regretted that, but they seemed to be working through it, and Remus didn't tend to bring any school memories up in front of Severus if he could help it. They had new school memories to make, this time together in a more positive manner, and quite without outside influences. The first time Remus had asked when Snape was planning on brewing a specific potion, the Potions master had balked; seemingly, no one had ever asked him a question like that before. After some lengthy explanation, Severus had calmed down, and thus began the collaborative efforts to make things stick in their students' heads. They started with making potions to counteract any poisons from dangerous or Dark creatures which would be learned about in Defense Against the Dark Arts. That seemed to work out well, and Snape even grumbled something about his students paying more attention in class.

Things continued smoothly, though with ups and downs, and after one particularly nasty explosion in his laboratory, Severus ceased participating in anything directly related to Lupin's class. It'd taken a while for the Slytherin to again warm up to the ideas Remus put forth, but eventually he did. One evening after Remus having asked during the final meal of the day, they'd found themselves carrying two boxes of ingredients back up to Lupin's classrooms, without the use of magic, which struck Remus as a bit odd, considering that Snape didn't even have to come along, especially if Remus were simply levitating the boxes. It did give Severus a good enough excuse for the time being, though, and he stayed and sneered as Lupin sorted things where they ought to be in his classroom when they arrived, Severus commenting on improper handling techniques the whole time.

The other man had started to talk more civilly, if it could have been called that, as he turned the conversation towards the full moon that had been coming up at the time. Remus smiled to himself, though a bit sadly: that was usually as close as Snape came to speaking about anything regarding either of their personal lives. There was a moment that Remus had thought perhaps Snape was going to say something further, go another step in their friendship, at least, but that was before they were interrupted. If it had been anyone but Harry, maybe they could have resumed after a small hiatus spent emptying the boxes. Severus had become entirely more alert and foreboding the moment the knock came at the doorjamb, the door being wide open.

With a few quick quips to the young Gryffindor, Snape had whisked out the door, leaving Remus to gape. He'd almost wanted to tell Harry to leave, or say he would be right back, so he could run after Severus, but he couldn't do that. After all Harry had been through in his life, and still was going through, there was no way Remus could brush him off so lightly, especially to go after something that might not have been there in the first place. Remus sighed; he wished Harry were around, because he missed him, too. He had been opening up a bit more, talking about things with Lupin, and he liked that.

It was so easy to talk to Harry, and sometimes Remus had to make sure he remembered it wasn't James he was sitting across from over a chessboard. Harry even reminded him of his old friend, and not only because he was the boy's father, but because they really were so much alike. Regardless how Harry didn't like to be told they were so much the same, they really were; though, of course, there were enough things different about them to make them each unique individuals. The one thing that usually drew Remus back to the present, instead of whiling the time away, drifting back to his own time as a student with his friends, was the fact that he'd lost those friends, and there was always the pain of holding that inside of himself.

He'd never gotten over it. James and Lily, he couldn't even think about their deaths anymore; he'd overanalyzed the situation, and no matter how many 'well, maybe I could have's' he had run through his mind, he knew he never could have stopped it from happening. Perhaps he could have changed things for Sirius, but not for James and Lily, and Peter had already dug his own grave. From James to Sirius, neither of whom had properly spent enough time with Harry, and now to him: Remus Lupin. He was now responsible for Harry, no matter the painful circumstances of why he was supposed to do that, or how.

Harry even reminded him of Sirius. He wasn't sure if it was due to the man's influence on James or Harry himself that made it to shine through, but he saw it sometimes. If he was honest with himself, it really was Sirius he missed. It could have been just because it was the most recent wound to his familial network of friends, but he'd always been close to him. During the time spent at Grimmauld Place, they'd often slept in the same bed, and it had been very hard to even lie down to sleep anywhere after Sirius was gone.

They never went further than the occasional intimate touch, but they held each other, and to both of them, perhaps to Remus more so, it was their safety and peace of mind that kept each other intact. Remus had no idea how many nights they'd stayed up, talking about Harry and his future. Not in the way that most people did, assuming what he'd do, but rather in the way of wondering what he'd do, what he'd be good at; who would look after him. There were times when Remus almost thought Sirius would commit suicide by the amount of time he spent talking about himself as if he was dead and gone; whether he actually had been thinking it, Remus hoped he knew the man well enough to know he wasn't, or if he knew deep down that something was going to happen to him.

It didn't sit well to hear him talk of how he would eventually get himself killed, but he and Remus did arrange that should anything happen to Sirius, Remus would take care of Harry. It'd always struck a chord with Remus for the boy to be passed through the care of many adults, some that didn't care at all, and some that cared too much. He and Sirius had almost acted as fathers for Harry, and he would have been staying with them in the summers, at Grimmauld Place, if nothing had happened. As it was, Harry had stayed with Remus last year, and was set to do so after this current school year. Remus just hoped he'd be back well before then.

Harry hadn't said much concerning his living arrangements for after he was finished with his schooling at Hogwarts, but Remus presumed, if Harry had no other plans, that he'd live with him over the summer, at least. Though, now that Harry was with Draco, maybe he wouldn't even want or need to be with Remus for the summer at all. Remus chuckled as he shook his head slightly, wondering if the two were going to stay together, or if they even were; it was confusing enough of a thought to consider them being remotely close to friends, being practically opposites at everything. Though, look at Severus and himself, he thought: they'd still begun to grow closer, despite horribly large differences between them. They might even be called friends, in a loosely-termed sense of the word.

Harry might simply be moving on with his life, too. This might simply be another adventure in the teen's life, for all Remus knew at the moment. Maybe he'd come back and take up a girlfriend, get married.... Just then, Remus had an odd thought pass through his head. He frowned for a moment, but then his face cleared, strangely accepting of the new idea. It fit with all the other clues he'd seen. Strange, indeed. Remus looked back to the window and saw the difference in light from the sun shining down on the grounds.

Quickly, he looked to the clock above his fireplace and stood, realizing how long he'd sat there, lost in his own thoughts. He passed through his chambers to the desk in his main classroom and picked up a few things before heading down to the main floor. He felt a little bit better, though not much, about the current state of affairs at the school and with his own life, but he needed to get on with the day. He'd have time to himself later, hopefully, but he did have to spend some of his free time speaking to others involved in the two boys' disappearance. He needed to tell Ron and Hermione about the letter, as well as the Headmaster (whom he'd tell at breakfast, leaving the parchment with the old man), but he couldn't skip out on his classes.

@>*~

It'd been about six and a half minutes by Severus' count of the seconds gone by since he had been summoned, and it was the only thing keeping him sane in the quiet room full of murderers, thieves, and escaped convicts that he was in forced company with. He'd tried his best to avoid conversation, but he could see a few that might still approach him if they were to wait much longer for the Dark Lord. Bellatrix had left him alone, seemingly forgetting about him altogether, but he knew that wasn't the case. She'd set her brother-in-law to keeping an eye on him, and it was getting rather annoying to have Rabastan stare at him from his vantage point halfway up the staircase to the far side of the room.

He was about ready to leave the room, perhaps to leave and try to intercept the boys, but Snape knew that would be foolish. If anything, Voldemort would send someone to watch him, as well as Rabastan to follow him, and that would only make him have less time to prepare for the mad dash that would be his escape. He felt a weight on his shoulders, and he turned slowly, glancing around the room, catching sight of a distracted Rabastan watching a blond head walk through the crowd. Lucius had entered the room, progressing in towards his sister-in-law. Snape had a fleeting thought of apprehension: if Voldemort had told Lucius about their upcoming guests and the elder Malfoy spoke to Bellatrix of the matter, Snape could be viewed even more as a traitor in her eyes. She tolerated him of course, because he did provide information, though in this particular matter, he could be viewed as a co-conspirator to the younger Malfoy.

That, of course, was a strange matter altogether; surely, he thought, the Dark Lord would presume Draco to be on their side, bringing Potter to him willingly. As much as it worried him to admit it, there was no way to tell whether or not that was the truth. Snape watched the two of them from a distance, keeping sight of their lips as they spoke. Neither one of them turned to look in his direction, though the youngest Lestrange had returned to his vigil. Bellatrix must have known something, or had been suspicious to set eyes on him, but she didn't know enough to know anything at all. Lucius parted from her, and waited at a point in the center of the room. The Death Eaters around him stilled their murmurs and became aware that he was waiting. Pettigrew soon came to his side, but Lucius did not look at him at all, still waiting for their master's arrival.

The room was quiet, tension and attention piqued, but Voldemort did not keep them. He walked into the room, robes flowing behind him and, though it was odd to think it, he looked better than he had the last time he'd been seen by his followers. He stood in front of Lucius and Peter: the men on either side of him, though a step behind, and swept his gaze through the attendants of his gathering. Many had been lost over the years, good fighters, and loyal servants, leaving him with those who could survive well enough whether by luck or skill. His ranks would soon swell with youth, ready to be trained and put to good use, but there was one more task for the group before him.

"I have been informed, my friends, that our enemy is weakened," the Dark Lord started quietly, drawing all noise from the room, commanding them all to listen. Snape knew that some wanted to look at him, that some thought of him as 'the informant' regarding inside information, being his duty as a spy; he could still always see their apprehension to believe anything to do with his loyalties. "Harry Potter is weakened, and what is more, he is already being brought to Durmstrang." Now a few scarce words broke out in the crowd, but they were quiet once more for their Lord to continue. Lucius looked supremely satisfied, and as Snape watched, the blond only became more so as Voldemort spoke. "When he arrives, you will apprehend and bring him to me. Do not touch him. You will leave him to me," he repeated, "or your own lives will be forfeit.

"He is to be allowed full entry into the castle. You will then seek him out and bind him, though if he should make it outside of the castle walls, follow him at all costs, and bring him to me." The Dark Lord paused, breathing heavily with his intensity on the matter. "You will be given my orders."

The room was silent, and the Dark Lord paused a moment to look over his Death Eaters. Snape followed the trail of Voldemort's eyes through the throng before him. Rodolphus Lestrange stood tall, unwavering as the Dark Lord stared into his mind; Goyle's shoulders hunched forward slightly at the scrutiny, but he didn't drop his eyes. There was another movement, and Snape's eyes snapped to it, watching as Wormtail began fidgeting. He narrowed his eyes, seeing something strange in the rat's eyes, and he was almost surprised when Pettigrew looked straight at him. Peter felt startled and looked away, suddenly still, glancing to Lucius, and then back to Voldemort.

There were words that Severus didn't hear, and his mind was working, trying to fit things together; trying to make a picture out of a puzzle with blank pieces. He was brought back to himself when there was noise being made in the silent room, shuffling as uniformed Death Eaters put up their masks and Apparated with a crack, and the rest began filing out of the room. Snape felt rooted to the spot, and cursed himself that he was about to draw attention. The Dark Lord gazed at him firmly, being the only one save Voldemort and his two servants left in the room. "That will be all, Severus."

Snape nodded and forced himself to pull a foot out from under his body, forcing himself to walk from the room. He walked without knowing where he was headed, but he soon found the door to his room, wheels still turning in his mind as he sat in the chair in front of the fireplace. Something was wrong, and he could feel it, yet not put his finger on it. There was almost little hope in his mind that Draco was actually trying to stop Potter from arriving, or at least offering protection for the stupidly stubborn Gryffindor, rather than dragging him there bodily to present to the Dark Lord.

They were to be given entrance, and certainly there would be Death Eaters posted at the door to keep an eye out for him, but none would be daft enough to try and bind the boy on the front steps. No, they would be allowed to wind their way into the castle, buying themselves time, getting lost in the process. The only problem would be if Snape wasn't the first to find them. Draco could avoid being seen, despite his fair hair and obvious presence, and he would certainly keep Potter with him. Snape wondered if Draco was going to give Potter to Voldemort, whether he would hide in the castle until finding the Dark Lord's chambers, or if he would announce himself and be lead straight to their Lord.

Severus closed his eyes, bringing fingers up to his nose bridge. His hair fell forward as he thought, and he was now fighting the headache that threatened from the stress about to overcome him. There wasn't going to be much time. The preliminary search party had been sent out to watch for the boys, and when they were spotted, they would be allowed in the castle to await their fate when it found them.

@>*~

A few hours later, Harry had woken to find it just becoming dark outside, and Draco was still sleeping. He hadn't moved on the bed, not wanting to wake the blond, but when he shifted his weight slightly, he looked back to see gray eyes staring back at him. They both got up after a moment, though neither of them spoke as they put their clothes on and put the few things they'd taken out back into their bag. They hadn't slept much, but it had sufficed for both of them, and Draco said few words before he Apparated to their next destination, waiting for Harry to follow. It wasn't much of a surprise by his surroundings to find, when he asked, that they were in Russia. A sign post Harry caught sight of read Vologda, the name of the city, and he hurried to stay with the blond.

He was glad not to find himself on the verge of being sick all over the old stone walk they were now traveling down. It truly felt like his insides were trying to escape in a lurch out his throat when he Apparated, though he wasn't sure whether it was his natural reaction to the process, or whether it was due to the child he carried within himself, as some proximity to morning sickness. There were still questions in his mind about how he'd even managed to become pregnant in the first place, but he didn't want to bring anything up at the moment. Draco seemed to be concentrating on something entirely other than Harry, but the dark-haired boy was quite fine with that, not wanting to break the blond's train of thought in case it was on something important.

The tension between the two of them eased after Draco had made an abrupt turn into a hotel, and Harry had almost walked right by, too wrapped in his thoughts to notice. Now they had a room for the night, and they went up and checked it out. The Slytherin disappeared into the bathroom with the bag for an hour, and bored, exhausted, Harry fell asleep during that time. He awoke to the blond sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at him, and he sat up. "Would you like to go for a walk?" he asked, and Harry nodded, rubbing at his eyes. He stopped in the bathroom for a moment to relieve himself before following Draco out of the hotel. They went at a much slower pace than they had earlier that day, and it was almost fully dark now as they made their way down the street.

He didn't want to take them too far, just in case something happened, but he didn't make them walk up and down the same street either. Draco breathed in the cool night air, watching on both sides of the street the few people still out and about. The lights in tavern windows were lit, showing dark shadows and silhouettes of the strangers inside. If he had been here by himself, Draco might have ventured inside to sit and watch the goings on, but, as it was, he was not alone. He looked across to Harry, who was staring at the ground in front of him as he walked. Draco's eyes were caught by a shadow across the street, which he realized was a person at the corner. They seemed to see him and tilt their head, almost like they wanted to hear if they were saying anything.

Harry was breathing through his mouth, so perhaps the stranger believed him to be talking softly as his lips moved. Draco stopped walking, and so did the other boy, a step later, and turned to the blond questioningly. In the brief moment it took for Draco to look to Harry and back to the corner, the figure was gone. "Let's go back," Draco said quietly, eyes narrowed, and Harry agreed, not wanting to say much as they walked back. Draco wondered why he even asked to come outside to begin with, considering they were supposed to be keeping a low profile, but he supposed he simply didn't want to feel caged and needed the air to think. He'd been wondering why he'd even come on this 'trip' to begin with. It was strange to know he was starting to feel something other than annoyance, since it never had been full out hatred of the other boy when he thought about Harry.

Draco wasn't sure what had really made the difference, or transition, as it were, from passive enemies to almost friends, at least of some sort. Though, he supposed, they were far past passive at the end of their fifth year: it was more on his part to be angry at Harry for the things that happened to his father, more so than what Harry actually did to deserve the threats Draco had made on the other boy's life. That summer when he'd gone home to a half-empty house, he'd still felt anger at Harry, but as time wore on it lessened, and after studiously ignoring the dark-haired boy through sixth year, Draco had almost gotten over it. There was sure to be some slight animosity at least, for the words said over the years between the two of them, but he was starting to realize it didn't really matter anymore what he held against people.

After the first summer, his mother began writing him letters again, having been too caught up with business during the previous school year. Usually where he would have been concerned with sweets and packages of things from home, he paid more attention to the lines she wrote on the parchments he unrolled every other morning. She sounded happier about things, and Draco began noticing that, as well as so much pressure that had been lifted from his own shoulders. When he'd come home for summer the second time after his father's incarceration, they'd sat down and talked, confiding in each other the things they had been worried on and pressured about for as long as they could remember. She loved her husband, Draco understood, but he knew how the man could be overbearing at times, wanting to dominate when it came to what he perceived as right or what was best for his family. He wanted nothing less than the best, and his mother had to agree; most saw her in the same light, agreeing she was all for everything her husband stood for. If anyone bothered to know her personally though, they'd have to change their stance on the elder Malfoys' similarities.

It took time, but Draco had realized how much he'd been forced to mature from recent events, taking his emotions into consideration, and understanding some of the finer points of his father's life in the wizarding world. There were things that bothered him, and things he could shrug off, but overall, he tried to distance himself from it, becoming more concerned with his own affairs. There were some things he wasn't quite sure what to do with, and it almost surprised him to think that his current situation didn't fall under that premise. He couldn't grasp a reason why in his mind, but somehow this felt right between him and the boy beside him, and he still had to wonder why he'd gone as far as he had, and how far he was willing to go.

They were nearing the hotel, and the blond was glancing in windows as they passed slowly, noting nothing much of interest. It was late enough to go to sleep now and be up by dusk, with some time left to spend getting ready for bed, if that's what they chose to do. "Draco?" Harry asked quietly, deciding he should just get things over with; that usually was the better way to go with things concerning him. He pulled his cloak around him as they stepped into the small alcove in front of the door to the hotel. They were both wearing the heaviest cloaks they had brought with them, and it was cold and snowing outside, considering they were in Russia. It would have been simple to transfigure them thicker, or add a warming spell to them, but they opted for coming back to avoid the chill entirely.

The blond barely turned to acknowledge that he'd heard Harry's quiet query of his name, offering, "Yes?" He didn't pause before opening the door and entering into the hotel. Draco walked ahead, brushing snowflakes off his arms and shoulders as he crossed the lobby slowly. He gave a nod to the man behind the desk, and the elderly man gave a gesture of recognition as they went by, yet he kept his eyes on them as they went. They had their hoods up still, though Draco itched to take his down, not too fond of the damp material pressing against his head, and Harry didn't like it either, the extra weight not helping him feel any more energetic.

"I've ... been meaning to ask," Harry started, not really sure how to voice his questions without seeming like a complete twit. He glanced cautiously at the concierge who watched him follow Draco to the stairs and didn't continue his question until they were halfway up. A better idea, he thought, would be to wait until they were in their room, but Draco might think he forgot; that didn't do much for his image in the blond's eyes. "How exactly was I able to get pregnant to begin with?"

It was the main question he'd been wondering the answer to since he'd first known of his impending fatherhood, and it felt good to get it off his chest. Draco hesitated mid-step, a bit unsure as how to go about answering the strange question. He supposed it would be strange to Harry if no one had ever explained even recent wizarding history to the boy, let alone things that happened at least a few hundred years before Hogwarts was founded. "No one has ever told you?" he asked instead of answering right away, still letting long forgotten facts come to mind. He really hadn't a reason to remember it since he was never in a position to be concerned about it happening to himself; the other party had always taken care of themselves and, clearly, he'd thought the same for this situation, but he'd obviously been mistaken.

The blond looked over to see Harry's hood shake side to side awkwardly under the dampened material. "Surely you don't think it was on the top of the list for my Muggle relatives to fill me in on? Other than that, I just don't think it ever occurred to anyone else that I'd need to know." Harry looked back at the other boy, whose hood was pulled back more; Harry could see half of the blond's face, contorted slightly in concentration. "No, though; no one has ever told me, hence the question."

Draco chose to ignore the annoyed tone from the dark-haired boy and continued with his answer. "Well, from what my mother told me briefly, and what my father threatened me—good naturedly, of course, to be careful because of: it's from an old curse of vengeance from a witch scorned by her unfaithful husband. I'm sure there's a little more to it, but I'm not the top scholar on human biology and the effects of specially targeted spells on them." It wasn't the best explanation, but Harry could get a better one from any history or medical book he chose to pick up and flip through the index of, so he'd leave that to him.

"Oh," Harry said in response, not really knowing what else to say. They reached a small, flat landing before they turned and headed up another flight of stairs. It wasn't really doing much good for Harry, but he wasn't tired yet, and he knew this was the last stretch before they reached their room. The rest of the climb was spent in silence between them, as were the first few minutes spent in the room. Draco opened the door, letting Harry inside, and locked it behind himself when he came in a moment later. Harry went straight for the bed, wanting to sit down. He wasn't exactly too tired, but he just didn't feel up to doing much. He set the bag down a few feet from the bed and sat down gently before stretching out on his back.

Draco made his way to the fireplace, pulling his wand out as he went to start the fire. He summoned a chair closer to the now blazing fire, sitting down to watch it for a minute before he turned and looked towards Harry. The other boy was lying on his back, one arm splayed out beside him and the other rubbing his stomach. "What, are you hungry?" the blond asked, the first thought to come to mind. Barely a second later had he realized it might have been a bit rude. He couldn't help it: it still hadn't quite sunk in, the actuality that the boy was pregnant.

Harry's hand stilled on his stomach and his head turned to look at Draco, a vaguely hurt look in his eyes, but it looked more like petty annoyance to the blond. He'd never known Harry to really do the whole feeling hurt routine; he more often opted for vengeful, harsh, and rash decisions, really. "Actually, I am a little, but I was just thinking of a clothing shop I saw on the street with matching infant robes and whatnot."

Harry had turned his head back to look at the ceiling as he answered, and almost frowned at the odd silence that followed. He didn't even hear the other boy shift in the chair, and the fire had seemed to die down a bit. "Harry," he heard Draco begin, breaking the silence, though he didn't raise his voice higher than was necessary to be heard, "if you're planning to make me buy baby booties tomorrow, I'll slaughter you in your sleep."

"How romantic," Harry scoffed.

"Look, that's not what we're here for, alright?" Draco snapped back, almost wincing himself at the sharp tone of his voice. Harry stilled, not wanting to open his eyes again to see the other boy from the corner of his eye. He felt the urge to pull his hand away from his stomach, but he couldn't get it to move. It wasn't like it was his fault, or at least entirely his fault. The silence crept back into the room between them, only allowing for the occasional crackle of the fire on Draco's side, and if Harry concentrated hard enough, he could hear a tiny drip from somewhere in the lavatory.

"I'm sorry." Draco said abruptly. Harry opened his eyes at the sudden words, but he didn't expect anymore. He slowly sat up on the bed, swinging his legs over the side, but he paused before he got up, chancing a look at the other boy. Draco looked back at him, catching his eye. Harry didn't want to say anything, not knowing what would come out of his mouth, whether it would offend the blond further or not, so he simply nodded, accepting the apology for now. Draco looked away after that, back to the fire, and Harry stood to make his way to the bathroom.

Draco sighed softly to himself when he heard the door shut, and as soon as it opened again, he glanced to the side and watched as the dark-haired boy walked back to the bed. He looked at him, with his messy hair, glasses, and that stupid scar. He did notice that he'd been staring a lot at the other boy, more frequently in the past couple days since their whole strange relationship had began. There were things he'd change of course, but he had to admit Harry was attractive in his own way. The blond very seriously doubted that Harry would change his style, obtain a new wardrobe simply because someone wanted him to, or get rid of his glasses—which really needed to be replaced with contact sheets, or whatever those Muggles called them.

Sometimes he wondered why Harry ever dressed and presented himself the way he did when he had the money to do otherwise, but he supposed it really could have something to do with his father. They did look alike, and he wasn't just going on overheard mumblings from Professor Snape after particularly tiresome Potions classes dealing with Potter, he'd seen a couple of old pictures in memorable copies of Quidditch Weekly that were kept in the library. So, for all he knew, maybe Harry's father had dressed like he hadn't a sickle in all of Britain, either.

It was odd to think he could even possibly be falling, in any way, for the Gryffindor, and he didn't even know what had possessed him to knock him over and shag him in the middle of the grounds. Anyone could have seen them, it was true, not to mention that imbecile of a half-giant, Hagrid; so why had he done it? He supposed he hadn't been having that great of a day and needed some sort of stress relief, but that didn't sound like a very convincing argument, even to him. The night before wasn't on his list of greatest days ever either, or nights, actually, as it were. He wasn't sure what had quite transpired between the two of them, but he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the baby.

The whole fatherhood aspect didn't quite sit well in his mind, though it had finally registered. He knew it was possible, that hadn't been the problem, but it was the fact there was nothing tying them together to make it seem like it had really happened, instead of just something that had been tossed around verbally. He'd noticed the slight swell on Harry's abdomen, though, and he couldn't deny that, at least. He'd still been thinking about it all a lot lately, but the thing was, he wasn't sure if he was ready to be a father. His own hadn't been a very good role model, so how was he expected to do any better himself without even any experience around children younger than eleven? It wasn't as if he had to be nice, or look after the first years either, so that put him even more at odds’ end.

His mind drifted to his father for a moment, thinking of the last time he'd even spoken to the man. It'd been during the week of the trials, and the older man had promised to write. His mother got the letters, as they were all sent to the manor addressed to her, and she never let him read them. He knew some of them had been sent for him and him alone, not his mother, but he never received even those. He assumed she was trying to protect him, to a certain extent, but he was unsure as to why. She passed on Lucius' regards and asked the few questions that filtered through her approval that he'd asked. Draco knew he would probably spend more time writing carefully planned letters to his father in Azkaban than he would on his homework; he had to scoff to himself at the way he could see himself trying to win his father's approval, even with him miles away.

At least he didn't have to agree with everything his father did, or sneer in the same general or pointedly obvious directions the older man told him to. They both had respect for each other, and love, of sorts, but they agreed not to see eye to eye on everything, at least, and for that, things stayed tense between them. In his younger years, his father didn't spend much time with him, but after he started at Hogwarts, the pressure started. He hadn't been sure why, perhaps it was because of a certain, bloody annoying boy sorted into Gryffindor, but it had put an even larger strain on their relationship. There were moments when they got on famously, but they were few and far between. There were times he'd wished his father were there at home when he'd gone back for holidays: he'd step into the mansion's cold foyer and forget his father wasn't there to welcome him into the warm parlor and ask him grueling questions about the school year so far.

A loud spit of the fire brought Draco from his thoughts, and his eyes refocused on the fire. He had been unaware he'd actually looked back to the flames, and he turned his head towards the side of the bed, to see Harry lying there again, staring up at the ceiling absently as he ate a candy bar, jaw working as he crunched on what Draco presumed must be peanuts. They were such an undignified snack, but Draco had to admit they tasted good enough for him to eat, though perhaps with his face turned away so he didn't make a spectacle of himself chewing. Harry seemed to realize he was being watched and tilted his head to see Draco watching him with a slightly amused look. "What?" he asked, not aggressively, but rather just wondering why Draco was almost smiling at him.

"Nothing," the blond answered, letting one corner of his lip quirk up for a second, and Harry smiled back before he returned to chewing. Draco turned his attention to the room, and Harry seemed to broaden his gaze from the ceiling. It was a bit nicer than the hotel they'd stayed at in Belarus, though it was more suitable for their needs, but this was more to Draco's taste, Harry thought. He'd only seen the inside of the hotel room at their last stop, but he assumed it wasn't as nice overall as the one they were currently staying in. This one was a bit bigger and they had room service, he'd noticed, as he looked down a hall on the second floor as they were coming up to their room. It wasn't a big concern of his, just as long as he got sleep before having to Apparate to their next destination, he was happy without someone waiting on them in the middle of the night just to bring them food.

Harry pulled himself up more, leaning against the pillows as he finished his candy bar, and watched as Draco leaned over, some of his hair falling over his face more as he pulled the bag towards himself to grab a bag of crisps from within. Draco was only a bit hungry, and since it was late, he didn't want to bother trying to find somewhere that might still be open. Despite what a majority of people might think, he didn't get his jollies by ordering people, or house-elves, for that matter, to bring food up to his room. This was the whole point to buying some food for their bag, but, he thought, it was more in the case of if they were stranded somewhere, not sitting in front of a fire and on a comfortable bed, but, though he would have liked many things from a gourmet kitchen, this would suffice for the time being.

He finished his snack as quietly as he could, and when he heard Harry rustling as he pulled the sheets back he went and washed his hands and brushed his teeth before joining the dark-haired boy near the bed. He started to slowly take his clothes off, though he kept his trousers on, and he noted Harry did as well. It wasn't quite unusual, but it seemed a bit odd considering they'd shagged the night before; but they still weren't sure if the other was comfortable sleeping in only their boxers, or less. They both got into bed and assumed what had become their usual positions with each other, though Harry soon turned towards Draco. The blond laid still, not knowing what the other boy had in mind, but Harry simply settled into Draco's body, setting a hand gently on his bare chest.

His fingers began to move after a few minutes, absently tracing nonsense patterns on the pale skin; it wasn't in any sexual manner, mostly just to have something to do, since Harry wasn't quite tired enough to fall asleep yet. The fire had died down, and Draco stared up at the ceiling, definitely not seeing anything so fascinating as to have held Harry's attention for so long earlier. He eventually found his eyes trying to mimic the swirling patterns being smoothed over his chest onto the roof of the room before he began thinking again. Harry must have been thinking about something though, to be able to ignore what was in front of his eyes in favor of what was going on in his mind, though not to be confused with simply going mad, of course.

Draco wondered what the other boy could have been thinking about, though. He'd seemed rather cheerful the whole time, so he doubted Harry had been thinking about the Dark Lord. That was something he was sure both of them had been trying to keep their minds off of, not choosing it as prime pondering material as they sat happily munching on a snack, contemplating the man who'd killed Harry's parents, and even several of Draco's close cousins. Those were things that had happened in the past, though, and he supposed they were more stressful to think about than what could potentially happen at their final destination. He took a deep breath that pressed Harry's fingers flat against his chest at it's apex as he thought how if Voldemort had never come back, none of this would ever have happened. Did he regret it that much to not want any of this to have happened at all? He didn't think so; he was more referring to the current circumstances, not the relationship between them, wasn't he?

"What really happened during fourth year?" He wasn't sure where to really begin with this train of thought, or why he'd actually asked the question out loud. There had been more personal information shared between them lately, but it had seemed to Draco that it was almost to keep a truce, to keep some sort of balance to the reason why they were still together right now, or for the other to use as leverage to keep them there. Draco wondered if Harry was even going to answer, but his hand stilled and the blond waited.

"I suppose you never did hear the true story," the dark-haired boy mused quietly, lifting his shoulder and head to look at Draco, gauging the expression he had on his face. Harry didn't know what to say, really, but he let his mind roll through the thoughts that the question had prompted to come to the forefront of his head.

"No, I don't think so," Draco said in response. He'd heard a lot of things, from adults and students that had heard things traveled through many people who surely changed minor details along the way. "I know I was horrible to you after term on the train," he said; it was as close to apologizing as he could get at the moment. It was in the past, and he had a hard time feeling bad about it, even as he thought about how disturbed Harry might have been over the whole thing, if what he'd heard half of was even true.

"I don't feel sorry for what we did to you and your friends, though," Harry said a bit defensively, thinking back at the multiple hexes that had been hurled at the blond and the two goons that had been behind him. Draco thought back to it too, and grimaced at the memory. It'd taken his mother three weeks to remove all the hexes that had hit his body and he still had a tiny scar under his chin where a nasty tentacle had sprouted at the mix of a Furnunculus Charm and the Jelly-Legs Jinx, which had hit both he and Crabbe.

"And I don't know or can't exactly apologize for what I did during the entire year, but if I'd perhaps known the story from you, I wouldn't have taken the piss out of Diggory's death. I know it was probably horrible to have seen, and I guess it affected you quite a bit, especially at the time," Draco said quietly, almost whispering it into the dim-lighted room. He knew it was an understatement, and he'd never seen anything even close to what Harry had in his life, so he didn't have anything to compare it to other than his imagination and any gruesome details his father's acquaintances chose to share with him at dinner parties.

"I don't suppose you would be sorry, since it was in the past and you didn't know, but you're right: it was one of those experiences that a person definitely does not forget," Harry said, and then continued. "You know, Cedric was only killed because I told him we should both touch the Cup at the same time. If I hadn't tried to act the noble Gryffindor, he might still be alive." He'd opened his eyes when Draco asked the question, and he didn't want to close them to let the image of the memories flash across his eyelids. Maybe he should have let the Sorting Hat place him into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, then he could have used the excuse that Slytherins were better than mere Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws and Cho and Cedric would probably be married with a gaggle of children and a happy life. Of course, he thought, if I had been sorted into Slytherin, I might have joined Voldemort when he'd asked, and both of the other students would have been murdered, anyway.

Draco listened, and watched Harry's face as he thought about everything, which was evident on his features. He didn't want to push for details, because from the way the dark-haired boy's eyes changed as he spoke, he knew it wouldn't be a good idea to make him delve too deeply into how each little thing was. Draco already knew that Harry had been taken somewhere when he touched the Cup, a cemetery of some sorts, though he didn't know why, and Voldemort had used him for a spell to return himself to his body. "Not long after that happened," Harry went on, trying to get those thoughts out of his head, "Dumbledore decided I should practice more, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but not just the normal things they teach us in class, the kind that was usually reserved for Aurors in training."

Harry almost smiled, and for that, Draco almost did, too, as he watched the other boy. "I actually got an O on my Defense OWL. The proctor was so impressed I was able to do a fully corporeal Patronus that he made sure I passed simply for that; I bet I could have gotten a T on the written, and he still would have passed me," Harry said with remembered pride, thinking how the proctor almost wet himself with joy, as if he'd never seen a Patronus at all in his life, if not such a beautiful one. He shook his head and the small smile he managed faded, wishing he could have seen his father in his Animagus form, let alone in person, but he didn't want to tell Draco that right now. "Dumbledore and McGonagall are training me, along with Lupin and, however begrudgingly, Snape, to prepare for the day when I finally have to vanquish the Dark Lord," Harry embellished dramatically with a slight roll of his eyes.

"I'm quite looking forward to it, to tell you the truth. Of course, after I get rid of him, I have no idea at all what I'd do with myself. Seeing as how he's been a major pain in my arse since he gave me this bloody scar, I'm not sure I would know what to do without having an ultimate purpose to my life. To top it all off, even, I got to be on center stage, even participate, in Voldemort's fucking rebirth!" The last came out very close to a shout, startling the blond, especially as he'd never heard Harry swear while speaking. Draco had been trying to picture things in his mind as Harry spoke the whole time, attempting to fit things together into a more clear recollection of what had went on that he'd basically been oblivious to. He'd barely noticed the other boy getting louder until he was almost shouting in Draco's face, halfway sitting up in the bed beside the blond.

Draco just watched the other boy as he calmed his breath and slowly settled back onto the bed, lying on his back beside Draco, with the blond's arm still under his head. Draco still wasn't sure what had gone on in the cemetery, but he could imagine the thoughts and images running through Harry's head. The blond almost didn't even realize that he'd shifted his arm until he felt hair brush over his fingers and found that his hand was on Harry's head, smoothing the hair haphazardly away from the other boy's face. "I didn't know there was so much that happened to you; I always thought you were some spoiled and pampered celebrity who got his jollies from all the attention he received," Draco admitted, though he neglected to add that he had almost described himself as well.

He almost shook his head at himself; there he was, about to become a father, on his way with his pregnant boyfriend to the Dark castle of Durmstrang and he couldn't see the point in apologizing for something he had done, said, or not known, in their fourth year. It did occur to him that he'd said he was sorry earlier, but that was for something in the present which he'd had unjust call for pulling a scathing remark, as opposed to petty and childish name calling and teasing a few years ago. It was just as uncalled for then, but at least they could blame it on their rivalry, which had all but seemingly vanished in the past few weeks.

Harry scoffed at the blond, and then continued to tell Draco what else had been happening to him in recent years. He wasn't exactly sure why he was giving Draco enough material for any potential blackmail if this 'trip' didn't end well. There were even some things that he hadn't told to Ron or Hermione: he'd told them about Voldemort's rebirth, but only last year about how he'd felt in regards to Sirius passing on. He supposed there were some things that he just couldn't tell either of them, and he didn't stop feeling bad about keeping things from them until he'd started seeing Draco. "That's not even all," he started again. "Yeah, Voldemort's return was surely at the top of my seriously-bad-days list, but even if it's a big part of my life, I don't feel like it's something that is so personal to me, like other things. Do you remember that horrible professor we had for Defense Against the Dark Arts in fifth year?"

Draco had to nod; how could he forget? He had been part of Dolores Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. He didn't want to bring those old squabbles up between the two of them, so he only kept his response to a nod and listened to Harry. The dark-haired boy seemed to enjoy letting things out, and Draco wouldn't tell him to stop or interrupt him, even if Harry might have gotten quite loud while he was speaking. "Well," Harry said, "I was right ticked off about the way that woman taught the class. And, of course, being the brave Gryffindor I was, I told her loudly and publicly about Voldemort's return and how she couldn't teach a bloody class if it walked up and bit her on her fat arse.

"Unsurprisingly," Harry said lightly, "she'd given me a week's worth of detentions. No problem, I’d thought: I've done worse with Snape." Draco nodded again. He'd never had a bad detention with Snape, not with the professor lording things over him the entire time, but sure, he'd had to clean cauldrons that were rather on the disgusting side. "The thing was she had this quill, which I still don't know the proper name of it. She made me write lines." Harry paused, watching Draco, the blond wondering what could be so horrible about simple lines. "Every time I wrote 'I must not tell lies,' it would cut those same words into the back of my hand." Draco had made a face when he heard the punishment and knew it would have taken a lot of effort to sit through a week of detentions involving self-mutilation. "I never told anyone about it, except for Ron and Hermione."

Harry held out his hand to the blond, who looked at it strangely for a moment before he looked up to Harry again. "I had Hermione try to remove the scars from the back of my hand, but she couldn't do it perfectly. You can still see a faint outline if you look at the right angle to the light." Draco reached up and took Harry's hand, tilting it into the light from the fire and read the slight marks on Harry's skin, showing the blond that everything he'd said had been true, as this was his proof. Draco had believed it when Harry had been talking, but seeing it just made it worse, and he almost wanted to rub his own hand where the marks were on the other boy's. Draco looked back to Harry's face and then brought the hand to his lips and placed a light and gentle kiss over the barely visible scars.

The Gryffindor watched the blond curiously, though with no disgust in his eyes, and Draco lowered both of their hands together to the bed, and there fell a lengthy pause between the two of them as they both lost themselves in their own thoughts. "How do you know you're really pregnant?" broke the silence, and Draco asked it quietly. He didn't think he should have asked, but he wanted to be completely sure that Harry knew the why and how of thinking that he was actually with child. Harry wished he hadn't pulled his hand back so abruptly when the question came, since after a moment he'd realized it would have been a difficult question to ask in the first place.

Harry didn't even know how to properly answer the question, he supposed just like Draco must have felt earlier when he'd asked why it was even possible. It took him a moment to think of what he should actually say. "Erm, well, I didn't even know it was possible at all until about a week ago. Snape, actually, had wanted to talk to me," and then Harry turned to look pointedly at Draco. "It seems he'd found a bit of evidence of our encounter over his desk, did some potion hoodoo on it and it led him to us, then told me about some other things, ending in telling me I was pregnant." Draco was frowning, and he tried not to let his mind wander to that precise 'encounter,' but continued listening to Harry still. "I mean, Snape wouldn't lie about something like that, or even take the piss, would he? I know he hates me, but I don't think he'd make up something like that. Besides," he added, "I've already gained a bit of weight around my middle, and it's quite hard for me to gain any weight at all, and, believe me, I've tried over the past few years. I've always been very thin."

Draco had noticed that when he'd observed Harry over the years that he had filled out very slightly, but had always retained his thin frame. It suited him, Draco thought, and it looked good, if a little emaciated occasionally when the Gryffindor was in a down mood. There was still one more main question that was in the back of his mind, and he had to ask, no matter how much it made him feel like an idiot for even thinking, "Is it mine?" He didn't think Harry had much time to do his homework, let alone think about shagging anyone else in between sessions with Draco, nor did the blond give him any time to think it over before he found the Gryffindor again.

Harry frowned at the question, feeling a bit hurt of, even in a roundabout way, being accused somewhat of sleeping around, even with one other person, at least. He had to admit, though not out loud at the moment, due to the precarious balance between the two of them, that Draco had not been his first choice of partner, but it had happened all the same. If it was only for the occasional shag that brought them together for whatever reason if there even was any other than the sex, Harry still hadn't felt the need to go after anyone else. He knew exactly who the father of this baby was, and he was currently sitting next to him on the bed. "Yes," Harry said, trying not to sound so flat, "it's yours."

He knew he didn't even need to ask, but it was nice to ask, all the same, to hear the answer for sure. There was a strong feeling it was his, but the weight of slight uncertainty was now lifted from his shoulders from knowing Harry wasn't trying to play him in some way. "Once we find Professor Snape, do you know what you want to do about it, or... us?" Draco wasn't sure what Harry had for a plan for the two of them together after this was over. They were getting closer every day, and he had no idea what the plan was going to be in the end. He didn't know whether he wanted to be responsible for another person, especially one so young that would need constant care and attention. "I know my own father wasn't a very good one, even though he never laid a hand on me aside from a scuff upside the head when I misbehaved, but he was never around. There are other problems, as well, like what will your mates say when they find out we're together, and having a baby, for Merlin's sake?"

"What about yours?" Harry countered. Draco knew he had a point there, and he'd probably get more praise for knocking up the Golden Boy, Harry Potter, rather than be despised for sleeping with a Slytherin. "Look," Harry continued before Draco could, "your parents may not have been the best at raising you, and we all know I didn't have the best parental figures as I grew up, so you may or may not be a great father, and there's the possibility that I might not be, either." Harry took another breath, and Draco kept quiet, letting him talk again. "I never knew my parents, but no matter what happens, this child is a part of both of us, and whether you're a great father or not, I really hope that you'll still want to a part in this child's life, too."

He couldn't believe Draco didn't want to have anything to do with the baby, and from the vaguely resigned look on the blond's face, Harry knew he was right. The Slytherin would want something to do with the baby, whether if even for strictly political or lineage reasons; if he didn't want Harry, that was fine, but children needed both their parents, as far as he was concerned. Draco pulled himself back from the conversation and watched the display of emotions flitting across Harry's face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, hoping to calm the rapidly breathing brunet down a bit. Harry sighed, accepting, and laid down beside the blond again, pressing his body close to Draco and closing his eyes. Draco had thought he might want to pull away, or simply tell Draco to go sleep in the chair, but it seemed the other boy had either accepted his apology, or decided it wasn't worth arguing over right now. Draco closed his eyes and sighed audibly, tightening his arm a bit around Harry as he let himself drift off to sleep, not realizing how tired he really was.

@>*~

Harry opened his eyes to pale skin and pale hair, and squinted through the light of the setting sun when he abruptly fell to the bed as his pillow slid out from under him. He closed his eyes when his head hit the real pillow Draco had vacated, and listened as the other boy crossed the room, picked up their bag, and shut the door to the bathroom after he’d crossed the threshold. Harry listened to the soft clinks as Draco set things down, wondering what exactly the Slytherin was doing, but he quickly drifted off to sleep again just as the water started running.

When he awoke again, there was no sound coming from the bathroom, and Harry’s first thought was that perhaps Draco had changed his mind about the situation, not to mention this ridiculous trip, and simply left him there to fend for himself. He tried to quash the bleak track his mind insisted on taking towards the worse, and he was almost startled by the door to the loo opening with a loud click, revealing the blond in question striding towards the bed. Harry sighed, barely audible to himself, or so he thought, as Draco asked him if he was awake. The dark-haired boy mumbled his answer, but he still wished he wouldn’t jump to conclusions, whether he tried to tell his mind he was being irrational or not; it had to be some side effect of the pregnancy, since he wasn’t normally like this, he didn’t think.

He leaned over and reached for his glasses on the side table to the bed, and settled them on his nose, watching the blond bustle around the room cleaning up their things and the wrappers from their snacks last night. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Draco look less than perfect, to be honest, and he wondered how long the boy usually took at Hogwarts to get ready to simply go to classes. He looked very refreshed anyhow, and he certainly knew how great it felt to empty a full bladder, which he was about to do himself.

Draco stopped staring at the other boy out the corner of his eye when Harry trampled out of bed. He knew Harry had woken up when he left, but he assumed he’d fall asleep in the warm bed until Draco came out of the bathroom. After Harry had put his glasses on, it rather unnerved Draco to have the other boy watching him, unaware of being watched, and Draco quite believed Harry didn’t know he was rubbing his stomach again, either.

The blond wondered how the other boy could be so oblivious to things like that, and sometimes wondered if Harry really knew how close this trip could become to heading straight into the hands of the Dark Lord. It was ludicrous to embark on a hellacious trip out into nowhere, to an area filled with danger, whether by the weather or the wizards, just to talk to Snape now, instead of when the Potions master was safely returned to Hogwarts. It tried Draco’s patience when he put thought into it all, but he attempted once again to wipe the thoughts from his mind as he finished his task, and then sat down to wait for Harry as he put his socks and shoes on.

When Harry trudged out of the loo, he sat down on the bed and laid back. Draco frowned and leaned an elbow back to nudge the other boy, saying, “We need to get going.” He had a vague sense of curiosity as to where he’d landed his elbow, not hard, of course, but as gently as he could while still making his point to draw attention. Harry finished getting his clothes on as Draco did, and they took a few more minutes to gather themselves together before the blond made a pointed look at Harry, and disappeared.

“Yeah, I’m ready to go,” Harry complained to the empty space in front of himself. He took a deep breath and prepared himself as best he could for the trip through wherever Apparating took them. Harry shut his eyes and hoped to whatever deity may be listening that he wouldn’t empty the meager contents of his stomach onto the street beside Draco, or on the blond in any way, either. To his mind, he let come the features of an upturned nose, loose blond strands of hair, the pale skin and grey, deep eyes staring back at him, and suddenly he felt the almost familiar sense of displaced air. He was scared to open his eyes to search for his companion, reaching out to hopefully lean against the outside wall of a building. As soon as he opened his eyes, he was assaulted with the gross sight of watching his own vomit hit the stones of the walkway.

The retching almost brought him down to a knee, but he remained upright, though unsteady, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt rather than saw Draco’s presence as the other boy almost awkwardly patted his back, making a confused but comforting ‘hmm’ at Harry. Draco wasn’t even looking at the other boy as his hand lightly rested on Harry’s back, he hoped in some form of comfort, as he took in the surroundings more closely. They had received a few strange looks, due to Harry’s untimely sick up, but in general it wasn’t that strange for those wizards or witches with a weak tolerance for Apparation.

They were in the middle of a mostly quiet street, only a few occasional wizards and witches ambling through and past the shops lining the walkway. It seemed like a heavily wizarding population existed here, or at least in this section, perhaps much like Diagon Alley in London. This was definitely unlike some of their past destinations where there were Muggles in high supply in quite a few areas they had ventured into. Harry stood up then, and tilted his head towards Draco. “Better?” the blond asked, not able to keep a slight grimace off of his face as he caught sight of the puddle on the street in front of his friend.

Harry frowned slightly but nodded, and straightened up fully. Draco took his hand away quickly when he remembered it was touching the other boy, as it slid further down Harry’s side. He turned and started walking, fast at first, but then he slowed, allowing Harry to catch up to his pace. The dark-haired boy knew they were in search of another room for the night, and perhaps something to eat. He didn’t know about the Slytherin beside him, but Harry was rather hungry himself, and not entirely due to the loss of what he previously had in his stomach.

As they walked, they peeked into shops to gaze at the things that caught their fancy, like Quidditch supplies or the sweets shop, though it held no candle to Honeyduke’s in Hogsmeade. Draco stifled a sigh and chose to derail Harry to the other side of the street when he noticed the other boy looking into a clothing shop that had children’s garments on display in the front. Sometimes, when Draco’s mind wasn’t quick enough to tell him otherwise, he got the ridiculous idea that Harry was picturing the two of them and the child the Gryffindor carried living happily ever after in a little three-bedroom cottage in the country.

Draco frowned at his thoughts as they walked, his arm brushing against Harry’s as they made their way towards the far end of the street, towards the more residential section. It seemed he’d put more thought into this than he had realized, though it was ridiculous they wouldn’t live in Malfoy Manor. Would it be so horrible to live with Harry and be with the child that shared their blood? He spared a glance back to the clothing store before he could stop himself, and saw a witch and a small, walking bundle of clothes following after her. It dawned on the blond that it was her own child. He didn’t particularly think any of the ideas he'd thought of as unpleasant, but the history behind the two of them and the animosity for each other made him wonder how a child would fare between two old rivals.

Draco had a world to see, though he’d glimpsed most of it on vacations and business trips with his father, and there were so many Muggles to scorn, for that matter. He couldn’t keep his entire dislike for Muggles to himself, and just because he’d slept with Harry Potter didn’t mean he was about to change his views of the world, politics, religion, or any other such nonsense debates, let alone have only Harry’s views be taken by their child without a fair representation of other options available. On top of everything, he was only eighteen, getting ready to leave Hogwarts this year. It was too much to think about at one time, and Draco realized he finally must have been feeling the stress of the predicament they’d gotten themselves into. He couldn’t even blame it all on the bloody Gryffindor, since he’d been the one to keep on until something like this arose.

The blond sighed heavily, a slight fog from his breath forming in the air, reminding him of the northern territory they were stuck in for the time being. He let his arm grasp Harry’s and slightly guide him back to the other side of the street where he’d spotted what looked like a reasonable lodging for their stay. Harry stopped to rub his hands together for extra warmth as Draco continued to the clerk behind a large wooden desk. The place had a warm appearance, and Harry felt welcome as he made his way over to the blond conversing with the concierge. Draco finished dropping a small stack of Galleons on the desk as Harry reached the blond’s side. The clerk passed a key over in exchange as he scooped the coins towards himself.

As they turned together, Draco led the way only a foot in front of Harry, though they remained side by side as they made their way to the stairs. The first floor up, Draco found the number corresponding to his key, and opened the door for Harry. After it was shut, Harry heard murmurs of locking charms being put against the door for their extra safe keeping inside their room for the night. The dark-haired boy walked to the window, pulled a curtain aside, and peered down at the back alley behind the hotel. All he saw were a few dustbins and a scraggly old witch wandering along.

Draco made a detour straight to the loo after he’d set their bag down. The water turned on and Harry tuned out from the noises in the bathroom as he took in the décor of the room. There was a fireplace, typical to a wizarding hotel, occupying the center of the far wall; the bed was in the center of the room, and chairs were placed around the room, along with a matching small sofa big enough for two that sat in front of the fire. There were a lot of deep reds and browns, and it made the room quite comfortable and relaxing. The red made him think of his friends back at Hogwarts in the Gryffindor common room.

The hotel room was packed full with twice as many chairs and tables, not to mention three times as many people, but only a couple of those people from his house were on his mind. He hoped Ron and Hermione weren’t too worried, and he was sure they’d figured most of this out already. They had probably gone to the Headmaster, though that might not do too much good for them, but it would be somewhat helpful for reassurance. Surely the Headmaster knew quite a bit about the situation, including their relative whereabouts, even if he wouldn’t disclose it to his friends to prevent them from following on another stupid and dangerous trek. Harry knew he would be in trouble, possibly facing expulsion when he returned; it wasn’t something he looked forward to, but he’d still give anything to be back at school right then.

“This is far from the area my father and I stayed in, but all I remembered was this stretch of shops down here,” Draco explained as he walked from the bathroom, hair looking slightly damp and hands glowing from the presumable scrubbing they received. “I believe we only had a bite of food at a café before carrying on to Greece.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at the sudden conversation that was thrust at him. He didn’t know where to take this, as it was a completely different track than his own thoughts, but he wasn’t opposed to having a conversation. They needed to do that more if they were to make it through this, or anything to come afterwards, for that matter. “Does your family own property there too?” he asked, and the blond nodded in response as he began untying his boots. “Is there anywhere on the planet your family doesn’t own some type of residence or business?”

Harry watched his query process through the Slytherin’s head. “Now that you mention it, we have nothing in the States; too troubled of a place to bother, father said,” Draco answered. Harry smiled; almost chuckling slightly at the fact Draco had actually taken his question very seriously. Draco kicked his boots off his feet and pulled his wand out, casting a spell over the fireplace to start a roaring fire among the logs. Harry blinked, and supposed he could have done that, since he was already a bit chilled. He thought about it and realized he hadn’t been doing much the entire trip, and suddenly felt rather affronted at that, not liking the idea that he wasn’t pulling his weight.

“Would you like to stay here and warm up while I find my bearings before we find somewhere to eat?” the pale boy asked. He was just as hungry as he assumed Harry was, but he needed to settle himself down after the rather rousing frustration he’d visited on himself since he’d pulled Harry away from that shop down on the street.

“Sure,” Harry agreed, chancing taking off his outer cloak and warming up from the fire’s heat that was beginning to permeate the room. He continued looking out the window, this time turning his gaze upwards, to the sky. The sun was nearly set, and it dawned on the dark-haired boy that they had been gradually working themselves into a daytime pattern as opposed to nights. A few stars were visible, and Harry had no idea how long he stood there, but by the time he came out of his thoughts, the sky was dark and he was looking at a full blown map of stars.

He thought one looked a little like Sirius, though he wasn’t sure from his trajectory, or he was simply seeing things. He wasn’t even sure where he’d picked up that word, though he assumed Astronomy class. Harry still missed his godfather, even if they never spent too much time together getting to know each other really in depth. He wondered if Sirius would approve of his relationship. Or friendship, or of his lover, however it was to be perceived; Harry didn’t even know himself yet, but he hoped to find out soon. He hoped his closest parent figure wouldn’t be too mad, either. Lupin might not take his wolfsbane potion for the month just so he could tear Draco limb from limb for what he’d done to the werewolf’s charge.

Harry sometimes wished he wouldn’t let his thoughts wander to reckless and pointless areas. He knew he should stop worrying so much, because it didn’t allow him to make well thought out decisions, either. He also knew he’d never really put too much serious thought into his actions before he undertook them, but at least he usually had Ron, or especially Hermione, to guide him through his flawed plans. Deciding to stop stressing for a while, Harry took a detour in his thoughts.

They must be getting closer to their destination he decided, as he moved from the window closer towards the fire and sat down on the sofa beside the blond, who had let him be while at the window and had occupied the other seat quietly. Neither of them said anything as they watched the fire play behind the grate, but soon Harry couldn’t ignore the persistent rumbling in his empty stomach. “Fancy a bite to eat now?” he asked the blond softly, trying not to disturb their ambiance with each other at the moment. It seemed calm between them, unlike the usual, underlying tension.

“Of course,” Draco replied simply, though without the usual terseness that usually pervaded many of his comments. They both stood, Draco reaching into their bag to pull out the smaller pouch that contained his money. “I saw a few pubs down the street some, and at least one of them smelled somewhat satisfactory, so I suppose we’ll give it a go.”

Harry shook his head slightly in amusement at the blond’s picky nature over such things. He followed the other boy to the door and they left their room. It was only a short walk down the street and straight across to the pub. There were a few tipsy wizards speaking loudly to each other farther down the street at one of the other pubs, but they ran into no one before they reached their destination. Draco opened the door wide, gesturing for Harry to precede him into the building.

Inside there were mostly booths, with a few tables spread throughout that looked like they had legs that were quite on the wobbly side. Draco led them past the tables to a booth with a nice view of the rest of the pub, yet kept them relatively secluded to themselves. It was fairly close to the bar, as well, and it didn’t take long for a waitress to greet them at the table.

Draco frowned as she approached, and Harry wondered if he was trying to discern what the origin was of the small waitress. Her chest barely cleared the top of the table as she handed them a couple of menus. Harry asked for a couple of butterbeers for them both, and she headed back to the bar. They both tuned into their menus for a minute, Draco humming at various things he read. Harry was boggled by the menu since he still hadn’t cast a Translation Spell on himself. He opted to shut his menu and said, “I’ll just have what you’re having.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at the pronouncement, which Harry read as the blond being surprised and pleased. Draco did, in fact, warm to the idea of changing the dark-haired boy’s eating habits into something healthier and filling, especially in his condition, if not altogether epicurean in taste, for the time being. Harry looked over as he saw a dirty blonde head bobbing through the bar patrons, and recognized it as the petite waitress. When she reached the table, Draco set his menu down and she collected them both after setting down their drinks.

The Slytherin spoke for them both, and they settled in with their butterbeers as they waited for their order. It was quiet between them, as they both were caught up watching and listening to the other wizards and witches in the pub. It wasn’t long before their food arrived, and they both tucked in. Harry enjoyed the succulent meat and the dish of potatoes that was in front of him, and the salad was very good as well. When he was finished, he looked over at the blond and eyed up the remaining food on Draco’s plate.

“You’re not going to finish that?” Harry asked, he was still a bit hungry and it was a very good meal, though he hoped he wasn’t crossing any line. They’d been intimate together in quite a few ways, so Harry didn’t really presume that eating something from the other boy’s plate would have bothered him as much as if Crabbe or Goyle had asked. At Draco’s head being shaken and pushing his plate slightly towards the dark-haired boy, Harry pulled it closer and began nibbling on the food there. He had quite a while before Apparating still, so he figured he should try to get something to digest before he was at risk of losing his lunch again.

Harry breathed out happily when he was finished, and sat back to relax as the blond had been doing. Draco had watched him off and on as he ate, but now his attention was averted from him. The waitress came with another set of butterbeers and both of the boys began to ease the tension of their stressful situation out of their minds as they listened to the chatter in the pub. Neither one of them was putting much thought into the fact they were headed straight for danger, but at the moment there wasn’t a need to think about it and ruin a good time.

As Harry looked around the pub, he gazed at the oddities hanging from the wall, the pictures, and the random few Muggle objects displayed as old treasures, which Harry found rather amusing, and he was sure Mr. Weasley would, too. His eyes traveled down the walls and settled on the people around him again. He was almost startled when his eyes met with another man’s. The man was taller, older and sitting at the bar near them, and he didn’t move his eyes from Harry’s when the younger boy realized he was being watched and had been for probably quite a while.

The man gestured for Harry to join him at the bar, and Harry turned his head to look at Draco, who was reading the label on his butterbeer, looking bored out of his mind but trying to be polite about it. He turned back to the bloke at the bar, who began nodding at Harry to come over. Harry frowned and shook his head. The man kept on making a show of wanting Harry to come up to the bar, putting his hands together in a pleading fashion. Harry sighed and pointedly looked back to the table, trying to ignore the man, and faced Draco, hoping perhaps the other boy would start a conversation.

Harry watched Draco pick up his napkin and begin folding it into little shapes, strategically ripping parts to make patterns with a frown on his face the entire time. The Gryffindor pulled his eyebrows together in curiosity and was about to ask, but the annoying sensation of being watched made him turn his head slightly to glance at the strange man one more time. The man smiled when Harry looked at him again, and barely before Harry had a chance to turn his head back to Draco, unnerved, he felt the blond move in next to him from the other side of the seat.

The dark-haired boy turned to smile as he felt Draco’s hand settle on the back of his neck gently, yet it suddenly pulled him into a fiery kiss that lasted long enough to take Harry’s breath away. Breaking for air, Harry felt Draco slide his tongue along Harry’s lips, teasing before they were opened willingly for more. They kissed for what seemed like a long time to Harry, twisted on the seat to face the blond, but he knew it was only a few minutes before they separated themselves. Harry didn’t open his eyes for a few seconds, breathing deeply.

When Harry opened his eyes, Draco’s eyes were focused somewhere behind Harry, but they flickered back to Harry’s and lost the irritation they had held only a second ago. With a nudge to the thigh, Harry moved to stand up, finding his hand grasped in Draco’s while the other boy dug in his pocket, dropping a few galleons on the table without preamble. In a blur of motion, the man threw one last leer towards Harry, behind Draco’s back, and before Harry knew it, they were halfway down the street and back at their room in the hotel.

He let himself be dragged back to the hotel, not sure what had come over his companion to be so aggressive and haul him around like a sack of potatoes. He had a good idea from what he’d witnessed so far, but he was expecting anything, knowing Draco. Once they got to the door of the hotel, Draco opened the door and pulled Harry through before it closed behind them. Draco slowed down a wee bit until they got to the lift, pressing the button and waiting for the car impatiently. Harry was waiting for him to start tapping his foot and crossing his arms, but he settled for the dramatic sigh the blond tried to utter quietly.

As it were, Draco still had a hold on Harry’s hand, rather on the firm side; it wasn’t painful, but he wouldn’t try moving his wrist for fear of a strain, and if he tried to bolt, he figured he’d end up with a dislocated shoulder for his troubles. The doors to the lift finally opened and Draco let go of Harry’s hand to enter, and the dark-haired boy followed quickly, as if his hand were still being held. Draco waited just until the doors had closed behind them and the floor lurched as the lift began to rise before he pushed Harry against the closest wall and began kissing him again, quite gently to belie his outward emotional appearance. Harry was caught off guard and it took him a moment before returning the kiss. Just as he closed his eyes to enjoy it, considering it was a rare occurrence between them, Draco pulled away as the lift stopped. He was halfway down the hall with his wand out by the time Harry stepped into the hall and hurried after the blond.

With the door unwarded, Draco nudged Harry through the threshold and towards the bed as he came in afterwards and spelled the door again quickly before turning his wand to his boots to get them off quickly. Harry was still a bit dumbfounded, but he knew where this was going, at least, and he was just being slow as he took his cloak off. Draco walked towards him, eyes staring intently into Harry’s. He slipped his hands under the hem of the Gryffindor’s shirt, pulled it up and over Harry’s head before stepping in close enough for their entire bodies to brush against each other.

Draco pressed him backwards until his legs hit the bed, and the blond lifted a knee and settled it on the bed, gently pushing Harry back further to sit on the bed and move back as Draco advanced. The blond leaned down and gave Harry another quick kiss before moving down to his neck, sucking and biting gently until a small red mark bloomed on the tender skin. Harry’s breathing deepened and he gasped as he was marked, feeling himself harden at the attention to the sensitive spot. His brain spared a moment to wonder what the blond was playing at, acting possessive in the pub, but it was cut short when Draco got up and stripped himself of his clothes in what seemed like the blink of an eye, although Harry’s weren’t even open.

The blond didn’t care where his clothes landed as he hurried to grab something from their bag, dropping it on the bed, and began pulling Harry’s pants down his legs. Harry felt something cold hit the bed and roll against his side, and he twisted away from it as his pants were pulled down farther and farther until he was left just wearing his socks as he lay on the bed. Suddenly, Draco was right back where he left off, kissing Harry just as he was before. Harry relaxed after Draco’s warm body pressed against his again after the cool air of the room and the warmth of his pants left him, and he felt himself enjoying the kisses more and more.

The Slytherin boy began sucking at Harry’s lips, placing gentle nibbles here and there, with a few outright bites before he remembered the boy beneath him didn’t take too kindly to it. Just as Draco’s mind caught up with this, he felt Harry’s hands settle on his shoulders, which made him tense for a moment, but he understood the pressure behind why they were pushing down on him. He continued with his kisses, just kisses and sucking now, and he knew he didn’t want it to stop. Draco moved forward on his knees more, and used them to steady his body as he lifted his arms from either side of Harry’s head to grab the bottle of lubricant with one hand and pour some into the other.
He sat up for a moment on his knees and used his clean hand to lean on as he shifted one knee from Harry’s side to between his legs, gently pushing them further apart. Draco moved his hand, slick with lubricant, down between Harry’s legs as well, and began massaging the area he had in mind. The Gryffindor was so engrossed with the entire process and left flushed and panting from the kisses that he barely noticed Draco’s movements until he felt the blond’s hand. He startled slightly, and was about to verbally protest when Draco leaned down to kiss him again, just as he started to rub around his entrance. Harry was a bit affronted by the fact that Draco had not bothered to ask permission, but it wasn’t the point that Harry would have said yes, but the point that Draco simply hadn’t asked.

Harry tried to twist his head to dislodge his lips from the kiss he didn’t want to end, and his movement simply made Draco press harder against his lips, and push a finger inside of Harry. Harry moaned into Draco’s mouth, letting Draco suck at his lips while he gasped for air as another finger, and another, was pressed inside of his hole, stretching him open for what was to come next. It was no use trying to pull back anymore, or trying to resist. Draco was the larger of the two of them, even though not by much, and he kept Harry pinned down as he removed his slicked hand from between Harry’s legs to his own cock. He didn’t want to hurt the other boy, and he pushed in slowly at first.

A part of him knew this was out of anger, and instead of taking it out on Harry, like he was loathe to admit to himself that he once would have done just that simply for the sake of it, he forced himself to stop for a moment and let the dark-haired boy get used to the thickness inside of him. Draco listened to Harry gasp, and it only made his cock twitch, and he couldn’t hold out for long before he pushed himself all the way inside, to completely sheathe himself inside the other boy’s body. Harry gasped even louder and it turned into a moan as Draco pulled back out and thrust himself in again. It burned, but Harry felt too good to complain.

After a minute of that, Harry wanted more, and he pulled the blond down to kiss him again. It excited Draco even more, and he started to thrust faster while forgetting not to nibble, and forgetting not to bite. Harry gasped, but this time it wasn’t so much in pleasure. He could see where this was going, but he decided he wasn’t going to let it be entirely unsatisfactory, and he might as well enjoy it now and ask what the hell was going on afterwards. Draco almost paused when he felt Harry loosen around him, and he thought he felt the other boy push gently at him, but when he pushed his cock back inside, he could barely remember the moment before, and he focused everything on the pleasure he felt.

He felt he’d worked Harry enough with his cock that they could do with a bit more fun, and Draco pulled back and angled his hips, hoping to aim straight for Harry’s prostate. The blond hit his mark as he felt Harry’s arse tighten around him, and the Gryffindor’s back arched, pressing them together even closer. Draco did it again, making Harry moan loudly, before resuming his thrusting, but now even harder and deeper, and occasionally tilting his hips unexpectedly and hitting that sensitive little gland again and again. Harry found strength to wrap his legs around the blond, trying to slow or at least lessen the hard impact of the thrusts, but it didn’t do much good. He was experiencing a lot of pleasure, but he was also in pain, and for the most part, he couldn’t distinguish the two, but he knew he would rather this be different than what it had become.

Draco continued his assault, making Harry gasp and moan with every powerful stroke, which only fueled the fire in the blond even more, and he began putting his entire body into his thrusts. The blond had leaned up on his elbows, holding his head above Harry’s shoulder, but he couldn’t go much further with Harry’s arms holding him down against the Gryffindor’s chest. They were both slick with sweat, and it made Harry’s cock rub between them easily, creating pleasure for the dark-haired boy to go with the overwhelming sensations from other areas of his body. Every so often, between bouts of extremely hard thrusts and grinds of his hips, Draco would turn his head and kiss at Harry’s throat and jaw, biting there, too, and Harry knew the blond was getting close to his finish.

His thrusts were becoming erratic, and he struggled against his own weight and Harry’s arms to shift his body to lean on one elbow while he moved a hand to Harry’s cock. He grasped it hard, making Harry moan at the first touch. Draco began jerking his hand over Harry’s cock as best as he could to keep in time with his own random thrusts of his cock into Harry’s arse. Harry felt his hole tighten, and the little moan he heard escape Draco’s mouth right beside his ear made him explode all over the blond’s hand. Draco let go of Harry’s cock and began pounding into the boy under him, panting as he went. Harry tried to focus on the blond’s face, but there was hair in the way, and all he could see was Draco’s eyes, shut tight and his mouth open, lips glistening with saliva as he gasped as Harry’s muscles squeezed down around his cock.

With one more thrust deep inside of Harry, Draco’s release came, and he lay back down against Harry while his body jerked with the effort. He tried to control his breathing as he thrust a few more times, much more relaxed and slowly before he pulled out and found himself tumbled over, almost over the side of the bed too, before he had even opened his eyes. Harry sat up immediately, not caring about the come spilling down his thighs, and turned to look down at Draco, who hadn’t moved from where he’d landed on his back. “You selfish, uncaring, manipulative bastard,” Harry spat at him, shaking his head. His eyes spoke what he couldn’t find the words for, but Draco knew none of them were good.

He looked up at Harry, wondering what he should say, but Harry spoke again, and the words that came out were nearly exactly those that Draco had been thinking, though he never would have dared say them out loud. “You’re just like your father,” Harry said down to him. It enraged Draco more than he would have thought to hear it coming from Harry, despite whether he was thinking it himself or not, and he sat up abruptly, only to come face to palm, and it stung. It made Draco gasp in a shocked breath, though it also served to take the words right out of him that would have formed a spiteful retort.

Harry leaned down to grab at his underwear from the pile of clothes on the floor, pulling them on almost forceful enough to rip the material. Draco was startled out of his shock, and stood up in front of Harry, shouting, “What the bloody hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry stood and turned his back to Draco as he started pulling his pants back on. Draco waited until Harry had both legs in and was about to do them up before he walked around the other boy, and grasped his forearm to get his attention, as Harry was trying to resolutely ignore him. “Will you please stop?” Draco almost yelled at the stubborn Gryffindor.

“Let … go.” Harry said quietly, enunciating both words slowly through clenched teeth.

“No,” was Draco’s reply, and it only made Harry glare harder at him, but he stopped struggling. He knew if Draco really meant it, he’d be willing to enforce it, but after a moment of pause, Draco simply let go. “I thought you enjoyed yourself,” Draco said to him, almost posed as a question. He didn’t want to think he had misread the other boy’s pleasure; he didn’t want a repeat of the other mishaps during sex that had happened between them; he doubted the third time would’ve been a charm, if that had been the case.

Harry took a deep breath to try and calm down before he spoke. “I would have, if you hadn’t treated me like a whore to do with as you please. I had enough of that shite back at Hogwarts. I thought we’d gotten past this sudden need of yours to just shag without asking, or haven’t we?” He had started out indignant, but found it hard to keep that tone in his voice as he came to the end, when he sounded quite dejected.

Draco sighed as he closed his eyes, hearing exactly how Harry felt in the Gryffindor’s voice. Harry moved to sit on the bed, slouching over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Look,” Draco started, sitting down beside the other boy. He gave a gesture, but didn’t continue, and sighed again before he spoke. “I don’t know what happened,” he confessed, “but I had this overwhelming urge to make sure you knew who you were with.”

Harry scoffed at the excuse. He supposed it made sense in a way, and he knew Draco was a bit possessive, so it fit, but it was still not the best thing to hear. “Draco, I’m not your property, and I don’t even recall us ever deciding to be a couple.” He let that sink in, looking across to the blond as he paused. “If this was your way of trying to claim me for the sake of that old bloke in the pub who wanted in my pants, you shouldn’t have bothered. You know I wasn’t interested in him, although right now I’m not too keen on you, either.”

Draco looked to the floor, nodding his understanding. Harry sighed and stood up, pacing a bit beside the bed in front of Draco. The blond lifted his head to watch Harry walk back and forth before standing up himself and placing himself in the Gryffindor’s way. “I’m sorry,” he said, eyes on Harry’s and Harry took a silent, deep breath, but only looked back at the blond, whose eyes darted back and forth looking at the dark-haired boy, trying to find what was going on in the Gryffindor’s mind. “Am I really as bad as him?”

“No,” Harry answered right away, not needing explanation for who Draco had meant. “I was just angry. I mean, if we’re going to make it to Snape, we need to be in this together, and it’s not going to help if either of us is flying off the handle and going nutters over things.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said softly, a slight crease on his forehead formed, and before Harry could think about what would have been crossing the blond’s mind, he felt his hands picked up in Draco’s and held gently between their bodies.

“I am too,” Harry whispered back, sighing heavily. He knew he couldn’t place all the blame on Draco, because he was a part in all of this just as much as the other boy was. He knew Draco meant what he was saying, or at least he made a very convincing act of it. Draco gave him a firm look and then let go of Harry’s hands, moving back to the bed to collect his clothes. “I’ll go clean up,” Harry said, realizing that Draco was still naked, and becoming aware of the wetness all over his own legs.

Draco nodded, not looking up, and Harry went to the bathroom. When he returned, Draco was in the bed already, sitting up and waiting for Harry. He pulled back the blanket on the opposite side in a gesture for Harry to join him. “I’m tired. We still have a ways to go before we reach Durmstrang. Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

With that truce called, Harry nodded his agreement and carefully and only a bit cautiously crawled under the blanket beside Draco. Draco slid down to lay on his back, and was a bit surprised when Harry was right by his side, assuming their usual sleeping positions. He wasn’t sure whether the dark-haired boy would even want to be in the same bed, but he supposed his apology and a nice gesture went a lot farther than he had expected. Harry let out a breath as he relaxed in Draco’s arms. The Slytherin picked up the closest wand he could find and extinguished the lights with a word. They both lay there quietly, listening to the faint sounds of wind outside and each other’s breathing, lost in their own thoughts before finally being taken by sleep.

@>*~