Renaissance

A/N: Standard disclaimers apply. My thanks again to betas Mamacita-san and refuz2luz, any remaining errors are mine.

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9.

Despite the promise held in that night, neither Harry nor Draco mentioned Resonance again in the days which followed. It seemed unspoken between them that while their attraction to each other and the implications of resonating so strongly was important and needed to be addressed, the investigation and safety of Britain’s triarii was first priority for both.

Weeks passed and Harry’s team was no closer to solving the murders than they’d been at the beginning. On the plus side there’d been no further attacks; it seemed the well-publicised Auror investigation along with the small army of security agents hired by Renaissance Foundation had intimidated the perpetrators. On the negative side, as with every crime that didn’t feed the public’s need for spectacle and salaciousness, pressure was coming down on Harry’s team to scale back their investigation and turn their attention to other things—in other words, the higher-ups wanted to end the security detail.

Harry thought this was a horrible idea, not least because it would bring his daily proximity and light flirting with Draco to an end. He was nearly defeated by the bureaucratic machine until he played the hero-of-the-Voldemort-war card. The concessions he garnered were minor: his team would continue working the investigation, but only he would be assigned to Malfoy. And though he grumbled, that actually suited Harry just fine. Between Paul, Nick Thomas, who was brought in to replace Soren in Draco’s personal security detail, and himself, Harry was confident they could keep the young magnate safe; though if anyone was trying to determine Draco’s habits in order to make an attempt on hir life they had a very easy job. While the dynamic mage was certainly a genius, mercurial, and possessed of intense energetic innovation, sie also kept a schedule that was the textbook definition of predictable. And Harry had quickly settled into hir routine.

The flirting and innuendo and careful proprietary touches that sent the warmth of Resonance thrumming through him were the highlights of Harry’s days. They kept him energised and mindful of a future where he could enjoy Draco’s company more fully without devoting so much of his time to worry and thoughts of justice for the victims who’d already lost their lives. Keeping up with the blond triarii in the meanwhile generally meant wild surges between mind-numbing boredom as sie carried out the minutiae of running the Renaissance Foundation and hir massive media empire, and vast excitement as sie launched into a new project or worked on magical experiments.

Mondays were spent completely at the office. Malfoy accepted no appointments or visitors and sie and Mark, hir secretary, were sequestered in the Director’s gargantuan office from early morning to late evening. These were what Harry privately called the “genius at work” days. Draco seemed to be in a dozen places at once as sie tweaked spell combinations, brewed obscure potions and tested their interactions, fiddled with all sorts of magi-lectrical equipment and prototypes, and took or dictated notes on a dizzying number of subjects. Usually Harry was exhausted by lunch just watching Draco shift from plan to process to product. And by the time Mark turned pleading eyes on him to help get the multi-tasking madmage out of the office, Harry was completely drained and ready for a delicious dinner with Helene and Lars and for his wonderfully comfortable borrowed bed.

Not that getting Draco home actually did him much good, since the triarii typically was wound up for most of the evening and continued working on things sie’d brought home from the office until a fed-up Helene would order hir to “put it all away and go to bed already!”

On Tuesdays Draco had lunch with hir “Aunt Andy”, and it took Harry a good fifteen minutes to control the fits of sniggering that threatened when the good-humoured Andromeda Tonks showed up at the office for their lunch dates. It was also hir “placate the socialites” day, Harry came to learn, and after a chatty lunch with an aunt who had no compunctions about sharing all sorts of embarrassing stories about her favourite “baby boi”, Draco attended various teas and ladies’ auxiliary meetings listening to blue-haired biddies and up-and-coming social matrons (who obviously had more Galleons than sense, if their outlandishly fussy dress robes and spell-enhanced bustlines were any indication) prattle on about the miserable state of this or the appalling state of that while touting the good work of the Renaissance Foundation or an exhibit at the Heritage Museum, or a new artist whose work was being displayed at the Isis (and though he did ask around, Harry never did quite learn what exactly the ladies were auxiliary to). Inevitably, though, they left those torturous sessions with promises of some favour or another and cheques for the Foundation. Draco never managed to eat much during these fashionable fetes, Harry noticed, which was good considering the house-elves at Heritage House would put even Molly Weasley to shame with the spread they laid out on the table on Tuesday evenings.

Even Harry, who had developed a prodigious appetite after years of sitting at the Weasley matriarch’s table, often had a hard time clearing his plate and being gracious with the elves who seemed to take offence at anything less than stuffed cheeks when they took their evening meal with the children of Heritage House and the boarders of Heritage Academy on Tuesdays. Harry was often a little jealous of Draco, who seemed to escape the wrathful elves by switching tables mid-meal, always engaging the children in conversation about what they were learning, how they were feeling, how they enjoyed their lessons and games. Harry watched with awe as the infamous Malfoy charm was turned on the most exuberant and shyest alike, and the children’s brightness flared to brilliance under Draco’s attention. Sie used the time after dinner to meet with the orphanage’s director, asking about recently placed children or what, if anything, was needed. Sie was hands-on but sie didn’t micromanage, Harry learned.

Draco had hired competent, trustworthy people who loved their jobs, and it showed. Sie made it hir business to be informed and involved personally, but not because sie had to worry about mismanagement. On lighter evenings like Tuesdays and Wednesdays Draco sat up with Lars and Helene playing cards and board games or chess. Sometimes they’d watch concerts or debates on the Orb and have friendly arguments about style or points of view that kept them going until it was time for bed.

Wednesdays were also lighter days which held more meetings—mostly at Renaissance Foundation, though the Director had also gone to meet with managers at Malfoy Manufacturing, curators at Heritage Museum, buyers at Isis Gallery, or the research and development team at the Thaum Centre. Thursdays were more of the same, only the meetings included just the Renaissance Foundation staff, though Draco did mysteriously disappear for a few hours on those days in Paul or Nick’s company to a location sie wasn’t sharing with Harry for any reason. It frustrated the Auror, and was admittedly suspicious, but Harry was reassured that nothing dangerous or illegal was going on, and Draco had said the location of these secret meetings was currently under Fidelius so was as secure as they could possibly make it.

On Thursday nights Draco went to Transcendence to meet with Steph and to see and be seen. Harry learned, much as he had that first time, Draco enjoyed flirting, being the centre of attention, and sie never accepted any of the numerous offers even if the growling emanating from Harry hadn’t been a deterrent. And though they never graced the dance floor together, Harry always had fun. He loved being at the club because Draco took advantage of every single chance to touch and move sinuously against him, driving the thrum between them nearly to a frenzy. Not that any of that, or the furious wanking sessions he treated himself to when they left, ever made it into any of Harry’s reports.

And then there were Fridays. Harry dreaded Fridays because there was always some fundraiser gala or Ministry function to attend. Oh, Draco might have had few friends in the Ministry, but the game would be played. Sie was powerful and they all knew it, so phoney smiles were plastered on and political posturing ensued. Draco was circumspect these nights; the casual touches between them never raised suspicion, but they comforted Harry nonetheless and assured him that Draco felt as strongly as he did about them eventually belonging to each other.

But the best days, in Harry’s view, the days that made the week of boring meetings, boring bureaucrats, theoretical babble Harry was sure could stymie even Hermione, and boring business bearable, were Saturdays—because on Saturdays, Draco visited Anna.

This Saturday began as had all the others. Harry gasped himself awake and shook off another lusciously erotic dream of Draco arching beneath him, writhing in pleasure as they stroked each other to completion. He mused, in that muzzy post-orgasmic fuzz that lingered, that his dreams while very, very good, were somewhat disappointing in that they were always rather ambiguous. Despite Draco’s penchant for clingy clothing, Harry had no clear image of what the mage looked like beneath the flowing robes and tailored tunics. He had no doubt that when hir willowy body was finally revealed to him, Draco would be beautiful beyond anything he had imagined. He was just a little frustrated that it was taking so long to actually get to that point.

Waving a hand to clear the mess from his body and sheets, Harry chuckled at his own impatience. It was only a month since he’d thought he couldn’t stand the aristocratic mage, and now he found himself desperate to be in hir pants...or was it knickers? Again he smiled at his own silliness; either way, he knew he was falling hard for the changeling mage. Body and soul.

But now the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet gingerbread was calling, and before he could work himself up over what Draco did or did not wear under hir robes, he needed to get himself moving. It was a landmark day, after all. He’d be handing Draco hir arse later, as they’d finally given in to the pleading girls and would play a Seeker’s game on the Hogwarts pitch this morning. Harry spared a brief thought to other ways in which he wished he’d be handing the former Slytherin hir arse, but he made himself focus on the thrill of his coming victory. Sure, it’d been years since he and Draco had flown against each other—and he might be heavier, older, and a bit slower on a broom than he’d been in his Gryffindor golden days—but he was still a damn fine Seeker. His team in the Ministry’s Interdepartmental league was undefeated with him as starting Seeker, and had been for three years running. He was sure his little triarii brainiac was long out of practice, but sie had another think coming if sie expected anything less than the hardcore, winner-takes-all, hyper-competitive play they’d made infamous during their Hogwarts years.

After a quick shower, Harry plopped a bag with his Quidditch gear next to his seat at the kitchen table and reached out to meet Lars’ hand, a steaming cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it extended to him in the man’s giant paw. “Morning, Lars,” Harry chirped at the man’s smiled greeting (Lars, he’d come to realise, was a man of very few words), and he sat down to sip at the aromatic brew.

Helene grinned and laid a plate with a light breakfast before him. “Ah, I see someone is in a good mood. Feeling confident, are we, Harry?”

Draco snorted lightly behind the morning’s Prophet. “He always was an arrogant little sod. I’d say it’s a bit premature to be planning your victory lap already, Potter. I’ll have you know the intervening years have seen a dramatic increase in my already formidable skills. You’re in for quite the struggle to best me today.”

Harry smiled around a fork loaded with fried egg and bacon. He swallowed and winked at his adversary. “Then I suppose it’s on, Malfoy. I’ve gained a few tricks myself, you know.”

Lowering the paper, Draco wrinkled hir pert nose. “A few pounds, you mean. I have serious doubts you’ll even be able to keep up with the Snitch, lugging that lard around the pitch.”

“Fat? Hah! This is all muscle, Malfoy. Just because puberty seems to have passed you by, don’t get tetchy with the rest of us.”

Waving an expressive hand, Draco referred to the men in the room. “You mean just because I’m obviously not part-giant like the rest of you brutish lunkheads. Don’t worry, Potter, you’ll be singing a different tune soon enough. It’s sleek strength like mine that makes for the best Seekers.”

Enjoying the banter, and Draco’s sly smile, Harry reached around the mage’s slender waist and pulled hir down the bench into his body. “Perhaps. But there are definite advantages to brute strength as well. Wouldn’t you say?” he whispered in hir ear, revelling in the warm rush of Resonance and the heat rising from Draco’s reddening face.

“Ha-Harry,” the blond gasped.

Harry smirked and bussed a brief kiss over Draco’s cheek. “Soon.”

The mage nodded, flushed with desire and longing. “Yes,” sie promised. “It’s time.”

Harry released hir and pressed another faint kiss across hir knuckles. “Yes, time for me to show Anna and the girls what a champion Seeker looks like in action,” he winked, lightening the charged atmosphere.

Draco smiled hir thanks for the reprieve and scooted back down the bench. Sie might have been given quarter by Harry, but the reprieve wasn’t to last long.

Helene smirked at them over her coffee. “Hmm. Well, this is an interesting development. Care to enlighten us about how long this has been going on, Draco?”

The triarii blushed deeper. “As of yet there is nothing ‘going on’, as you say, Helene. Po—Harry and I are coming to an understanding.”

Lars chuckled. “An ‘understanding’, is that what they call it now? In my day we’d just say you had the hots for each other.”

Regaining his customary composure, Draco frowned. “What it is, Lars, is none of your business,” sie huffed and rose from the table. “Helene, please pack the biscuits for the girls. I’ll be ready to leave as soon as I fetch my kit.”

“Ooh, hot and very bothered, I’d say, Lars,” Helene said, ignoring Draco’s comments as sie flounced out the kitchen’s swinging door.

Paul shook his head from where he’d been watching in the corner. “Leave hir be. You guys know how difficult this sort of thing is for hir.”

Helene smiled sadly. “I know, but it rarely happens that we get to tease hir like this.” She nodded at Harry. “You’ve been good for hir. Sie smiles more now, and sie’s needed someone to love hir, be there for hir, more than just me and Lars and Anna.” She looked sadly into the middle distance. “Someone to remind hir to live in the now, and find more to enjoy in life than work or future change.” She turned to him and sighed. “Thank you, Harry.”

He smiled softly back. “Sie’s changed me too, Helene. I-I’m really glad we’ve found each other.”

“That’s exactly it, isn’t it? That you’ve found each other, discovered in each other what you can be together.”

Harry flushed a bit under her intent gaze. “I don’t know what it is, or what we will be, just yet. But I do know that Draco is amazing, and I really—well....” He shrugged. He’d never been the most articulate person, and no matter how fond he’d come to be of Helene and Lars he wasn’t quite willing to put his feelings into words for them yet. Not when there was still so much unsettled in him, and so much he’d yet to share with Draco. When he did have the words, Draco should be the first to hear them.

Helene seemed to accept this and gestured toward his gear. “Well, then, we’d best get going. The girls won’t wait for their gingerbread, you know.”

Harry chuckled, thinking about the way Meghan had nearly attacked him last week to get to the warming tin. “No, they really won’t....”

Julian popped into his kitchen frame just then. “Draco’s ready. Sie says to tell Potter it’s too late to back down from the challenge now, so to stop dragging his sorry arse.” The little boy giggled at the naughty word and waved them all toward the door.

“That’s me told then, innit?” Harry grinned as he threw the strap over his shoulder. It really was shaping up to be a wonderful day. He couldn’t wait to share it with Anna.

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Of course he didn’t actually get much time with Anna once they’d reached Hogwarts. They Flooed to The Three Broomsticks and Apparated to the gates where the girls and a sizeable crowd had gathered to wait for them.

Handing the tin over to the shyest of the quintet, Lisa from Hufflepuff, Harry nodded at the crowd. “What’s this, then?” he asked her with a small smile as Draco and Anna headed off hand in hand toward the school.

“Oh, well, loads of people heard you and Mer. Malfoy were having a little competition today and decided to show up, Aur—er, Mr—uh—Harry,” she relayed in a squeaky whisper.

Harry shook his head, remembering how Draco loved playing for a crowd, and maybe getting a little nervous. He hadn’t played for an audience this size since his school days.

“C’mon, Potter! You aren’t about to bow out now, are you? Your adoring public awaits!” Draco called back with a smirk.

“Oh, sie’s in trouble now.” Harry winked at Lisa. “I’m going to wipe the pitch with hir ferrety ar—er—self,” he quickly censured himself and lifted Lisa onto his shoulders since Paul and Nick had gone ahead with Draco and Anna.

“That’s the spirit, mate! He’s never beaten you, and today’s no different!” A familiar and welcome voice called out from ahead of him as they made their way down the path through a cheering crowd.

Harry turned and greeted his best friends and their team. “What’s this? I can’t believe you lot are all here!”

Seamus chuckled as Harry lifted Lisa down. She wanted to run ahead with the others and Harry, it seemed, might be a while with these official-looking adults.

Seamus pulled at the collar of his navy robe. “Technically we’re all on official duty since there’re a good number of people who might be targets who plan to attend the match.”

Hetty nodded. “The Heritage Youth chapter at Hogwarts decided to stage an impromptu information session after the match and they’re servicing brooms as a fundraiser this afternoon, so a good number of people from Renaissance Foundation are here.”

Harry nodded, already processing the crowd and reviewing the day’s schedule for threat assessment. “Right then, pair off and patrol the stands during the match. We’ll be staying for lunch and then I assume Dr—Malfoy will address the crowd during the information session. So I’ll be staying close to hir during that. We stay alert, and if anything suspicious goes down we act first, remove to the Ministry, and assess. In the case of rapid response, Tonks, Hetty, and Seamus will remain on-site until the situation is resolved. Ron, Hermione, and I will return to the Ministry and conduct interrogations. Everyone clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team replied, and all pairs split off to patrol except Ron and Hermione, who lagged behind.

“Harry, mate, watch your back up there. You know how easy it is to attack someone in the air.”

Harry nodded. “I know. I should’ve thought of all this before.” Agitated, he raked a hand through his hair. “But we’ll just have to make do. There are Anderson agents on hand, so we’ve got manpower if we need it. I’ll make sure Draco’s personal detail is alerted. Christiansen is shadowing Anna, so we know she’ll be safe. I think it’ll be fine, Ron.”

“Draco’s detail?” Ron gaped. “Since when are you so chummy with the ferret, Harry?”

Harry spared him a cool glance. “Look, Ron, the last month has been...intense. I’ve spent a lot of time with Draco. Sie’s different than you—than we—thought sie was. Sie’s funny and brilliant, and yes, we’ve become friends; hard not to when you’re living in each other’s pockets for weeks on end.”

Hermione frowned. “Just don’t lose your objectivity, Harry. Whatever else sie may be, Malfoy has never been harmless. We don’t want you getting hurt if it turns out sie’s using you for some scheme.”

“Give me a little credit for being able to read people, ‘Mione,” Harry huffed. “Draco isn’t out to hurt or use me. Sie’s just trying to survive this madness and get on with hir life.” A richer, fuller life with me in it, he thought briefly.

“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “You’ve been shown in the papers with hir at all these events over the last few weeks, and it’s awfully convenient that the Heritage Youth are having this fundraiser today. To most people it’s going to look like you support the Renaissance Foundation and their agenda. That’s dangerous, Harry.”

He shrugged. “As it happens, I do support them.” He tapped under his friend’s chin as she gaped. “We can talk about it later. Right now I have a Seeker’s match to win.”

He strode off toward the pitch, leaving his gobsmacked friends to begin their patrol.

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Harry angled himself for a feint just as Draco made a second circuit around the pitch. It was a great morning for Quidditch. The sun was out, the air was brisk but not too cool, the wind was just right for flying, and Harry was having a fantastic time. Madame Hooch had explained the challenge and rules for their audience, her authoritative voice booming across the pitch, and released the Snitch for the first of their five games. The Snitch was on a twenty-minute timer for Seekers’ matches and seemed to make up for its lack of autonomy by encouraging breakneck speed and manoeuvres that were even more daring than usual.

Harry was in his element, but so too was Draco. The slighter mage had been right in his assessment of Harry’s weight; the greater muscle mass was making it more difficult for Harry to follow many of Draco’s moves. And damn, what moves! The former Slytherin had always flown with grace, but now it was paired with a weathered determination and skill sie’d lacked in school. The combination was impressive, and sie now had the confidence to try feints and dives Harry had only seen professionals attempt, and he spared a moment to wonder with whom Draco had been training and where. And it was a moment too long....

“Not as simple to best me as you’d thought, is it, Potter?” Draco crowed, arm upraised and Snitch in hand. Hir eyes were brilliant with excitement and joy. Harry’s breath caught in his throat and he imagined a similar glint would be featured in those frequent erotic dreams from this point on. He shook off his musings and smiled back.

“It might be 2-1 in your favour, Malfoy, but the game’s not over yet. You know what happens when people underestimate my motivation to win!”

Draco scoffed and Harry proved his point when he won the next round in just under five minutes with a spectacular dive that had all the spectators holding their breath.

In the brief seconds of silence before the crowd went wild Harry heard Anna shout. “Great catch, Harry!” and shared a smile with her and her bemused vamar, who was shaking hir head in awed disbelief.

With the score tied, the next round was indeed as vicious and challenging as any they’d played as teenagers. It was definitely no holds barred, and Harry gave as good as he got: taunting, and feinting, sometimes even kicking at Draco’s broom. He played as dirty a game as he ever had. It was worth it, though, it was the most exhilarating flying he’d ever experienced; and as his hand closed over the Snitch for the last time, he gave in to the victorious laughter bubbling through every corner of his mind and heart.

Which was why he was slightly confused when his arm rose independent of his will. He looked to his closed hand and then to Draco, who wore the wickedest smirk he’d ever seen.

“You can let go of my hand now, Potter.”

Harry blinked. It was true: his hand was closed around the other Seeker’s clenched fist, not the Snitch. Harry nearly fell off his broom laughing. “I’ll be damned! Good—no, great game, Malfoy. Congratulations!”

Smiling, Draco inclined hir head slightly as Hooch rose to confirm the win. Harry backed away and bowed to his opponent, then added his own hands to the applause that filled the stadium.

Harry wasn’t able to meet up with Draco and the girls until long after they’d landed into the crowds that spilled out onto the pitch. Harry was worried until he saw the Anderson agents clearing a path through the crowd for the young magnate and the girls trailing behind hir like a mother goose and eager, gangly goslings. Ron and Seamus, both bemoaning the Galleons they’d lost on the day’s wagers, cornered Harry for a good fifteen minutes. Then he’d had to check in officially with his team of Aurors, who hadn’t noted any unusually suspicious activity during the match. He released them all to continued patrols for the remainder of the day and scheduled a briefing for the following Monday if there were no new developments. They were all frustrated with how the case had stalled, but unless there were new leads there was nothing for them to do but continue going through membership rolls and try to establish closer connections between the victims. Something had to give, and each of them hoped the case would break before someone else lost their life.

While Harry met with his team the Heritage Youth set up their broom-servicing stations on the pitch. There were separate areas for polishing, twig grooming, and alignment diagnostics (that one manned by advanced upper year students). Harry was impressed by how well-ordered and proficient the children seemed, and he smiled his acknowledgement to the student he remembered from the triarii students meeting who was madly waving a cloth from the polishing station. It was good to see the boi happy and feeling secure with hir environment, so different from the shy and apprehensive child he’d first been introduced to.

This is what Draco is fighting for: acceptance and safety for that boi and every other one like hir. Sie’s a general now—using different strategies, but it’s the same damn war. Harry sighed and headed for the showers. He’d been a soldier from age eleven. Did the fight never end? He’d once thought that peace and a secure future had been won with Voldemort’s demise. But he saw now that he’d become an Auror because part of him understood that the fight was never over. There was always injustice to be fought, violence and evil to be stopped, and innocents worth protecting. Fighting the good fight was all he knew, and he was content with that; and if he’d gained maturity in his perspectives in the last month and understood better how much was at stake in this latest battle for hearts, minds, and lives...well, then it just made him more determined to win.

He’d refused to lose Ron and Hermione to Voldemort’s evil, and the intolerance spread by people like Lucius Malfoy; he’d fought for them then. He refused to allow Anna to grow up in fear, hating or denigrating herself for her difference; nor would Draco hide hirself away; he’d fight for them now. He’d fight for magical beings to be proud of themselves and their gifts, to further their abilities; as always, he’d fight for a better future.

And I’ll fight to get Ron and Hermione on my side through it all. Not that I’m looking forward to that conversation, now I’ve told them I’m a supporter of Renaissance Foundation, too.

But before he had to beard that dragon, he needed a shower and the sweetness of smiling, giggling little girls. He was certain he could face even Hermione’s staid disapproval after a solid dose of the quintet’s laughter—and hugs. Anna gave the best hugs. Harry smirked. Maybe if he worked it right he’d get a conciliatory kiss from today’s victor as well. Running a soapy hand over his now bare chest under the steamy shower spray, he smirked. A conciliatory kiss...with tongue. Oh yeah, there’s a thought. He reached lower.

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He finally caught up with Draco, Anna, and her friends in the Great Hall for lunch. He’d missed the information session to enjoy a leisurely wan—er...um—shower, and briefly checked in with Tonks, who’d glowered her own disapproval of the informal gathering through her entire report. Harry had thought she’d be over her initial suspicion of Draco by now, but it seemed the time on this case had worsened her opinion of her cousin, if such a thing were possible. Harry made a mental note to keep an eye out for her. Personal grudges had no place in this investigation. And he really didn’t relish the prospect of going head-to-head with another friend over his developing relationship with the blond triarii. He’d assumed because of the Malfoys’ close relationship with Remus that Tonks would be more approving, but once again he’d been given cause to question his own assumptions and remember that presupposing someone else’s position often ended with him making a mess of things.

The girls and other students pelted him with so many questions during lunch that he only actually got a chance to eat when they were replaying the highlights of the match with their cutlery. He managed to nab the pepper just as Oonagh was animating it to mimic a dive he’d made in the second round which had many of his observers oohing and ahhing over his quick reflexes.

“You’re so fast, Mr. Potter. I never would have thought you’d be able to beat Mer. Malfoy at all!” another student gushed as Harry finished with the pepper shaker.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, eh, Draco?”

The Malfoy magnate flashed him a quick smile. “So they say, Potter, but I think we’ve established once and for all who the better Seeker is between us.”

Harry snickered. “Oh, one match can’t change the fact of my winning record.” He sat back and stretched. “But I am impressed. You were...magnificent out there. I play casually, you know, with my workmates and such. But you! I’ve never seen you fly like that. You’ve obviously kept your hand in.”

“You could say that,” sie answered, not really responding to Harry’s prompt for detailed information. Anna smacked at hir shoulder.

“Vama!”

“What, Petal? I must have some secrets.” Sie grinned at the girl and caressed hir hair.

“It’s no secret, Harry.” Anna rolled hir eyes at Draco and turned to Harry. “Vamar plays with the kids at Heritage House and Heritage Academy all the time. He’s the Seekers’ coach, and even has clinics with professional trainers and players who come teach the teams new things.” She sniffed a bit and mock-glared at the older triarii. “Keep your hand in, indeed.”

At that moment sie reminded Harry so much of the coolly responsive Narcissa Malfoy he’d glimpsed at the long ago World Cup that he couldn’t help but laugh a bit. From Draco and Andromeda both he knew now that the snobbish, reserved façade Narcissa had displayed then was the public Malfoy mask of a very loving and passionate, if misguided, woman. He thought it would please her that her grandchild was so like her in both hir loving and giving nature and hir ability to play pretension when needed (or just for fun).

Draco raised a brow in question and Harry’s grin grew. He leaned over and squeezed the triarii’s shoulder fondly. “Just thinking how sie reminded me of your mother just now, all prim and proper in public.” Catching an odd flicker in Draco eyes, Harry added honestly, “And so very beautiful.”

Grey eyes softened as Draco laid a gentle hand on hir daughter. “Thank you, Harry.”

The Auror winked at the gyrl and gave Draco’s hand a final squeeze. “So what have we planned for this afternoon, my lovelies?” he asked the quintet.

The girls yammered on about taking the next shift at the broom-polishing station, and the never-ending mounds of homework. Their complaint was taken up by the whole table and Harry smiled to himself at how little some things had changed in the intervening years.

On a usual Saturday they’d visit for a few hours, share a meal with the girls, informally meet with triarii students, and then head off to take in an exhibit or indulge Draco’s penchant for shopping. Sie absolutely haunted bookstores both Muggle and magical, Harry had found, and would often pull books from random sections to peruse while sipping coffee at the in-house coffee bars many shops offered. Last week he’d sat utterly amused as Draco simultaneously read through Arab Warlords and Iraqi Star-gazers, a copy of Popular Mechanics, and Kushiel’s Justice, hir biro scribbling furiously across the pages of hir parchment notebook as sie flipped pages here and there, eyes darting across the pages. It was at moments like those, especially after he’d gotten Draco to explain some of what sie’d been reading, that Harry wondered how Hermione had ever managed to beat Draco’s marks in school. Hers was a fine and impressive intellect, but Draco, he knew, was simply mad brilliant.

Today, though, it seemed Draco had other plans, for when they’d left the girls sie steered Harry toward a secluded area near the lake instead of the main gate. As they entered a small copse, Draco turned back to address hir guards. “We’ll be fine from here; we’re not going far.”

Paul frowned, but Draco shook hir head and the man remained behind. A pale, slight hand clasped over Harry’s. As always, the warmth of Resonance spread through them from that point of contact. “Will that always happen?” Harry asked, realising the time had finally come for them to get it all out in the open.

“More or less,” Draco answered, still looking out across the lake. “We’ll become accustomed to it so it won’t be nearly as distracting as it is now, but during times of intense or extreme emotion we’ll feel it more.”

Something in Harry’s chest twisted as the confidence and experience in Draco’s tone registered. The mage turned to him, seemingly having read his thoughts. “At least, that’s how it was for Paul and me.”

Harry gasped and dropped Draco’s hand. He’d read a little about Resonance in the past weeks but he didn’t remember anything about having Resonance with more than one person. Had this happened because Draco was triarii? Or was it something else? Maybe Harry just wasn’t enough for the mage; was there something missing or damaged in his own soul because of Voldemort? He closed his eyes and took a step away, but Draco followed and lifted hir hand to Harry’s cheek. The thrum was ever so gentle this time, the tenderest caress.

“Look at me, Harry.” Hir voice was soft yet commanding. Harry did not resist, and gasped again at the depth of reassurance and wanting he found in Draco’s bright eyes.

“I want you to understand that this is different.” Draco sighed as hir hand drifted down Harry’s face and chest, crossing over to his arm and ending with hir hand once more holding Harry’s. “Resonance is an indication of compatibility, remember, not a bond, not anything that forces or requires a change in the pairing. And it may manifest in varied intensities, depending on the couple. Do you think every participant at a Ring Dance only resonates with one other person?” Sie gave Harry an incredulous look. “Of course not. There are people who resonate more or less strongly with one another. It just so happens Paul was the first person I’d ever found Resonance with...and what was shared between us was merely the faintest glimmer compared to the brilliance that blazes between you and me.”

“Truly?” Harry asked hoarsely, recovering himself enough to gently tuck an errant lock behind the delicate shell of Draco’s ear.

The triarii squeezed his hand in reply. “Truly. I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you.” Sie held Harry’s gaze firmly with hir own. “Trust me.” The grey depths were always varied and changing, catching light here, shifting from storm cloud to silver to wind-tossed sea, sometimes with hints of blue or even violet, but there had always been a certain constancy and determination in that mercury mix as well. And there Harry found Draco’s truth. A shaky nod was his reply, and sunlight gleamed from within.

Draco tugged Harry down to sit and curled into his side, arranging Harry for hir greatest comfort. Hir head on Harry’s shoulder, sie spoke, as though sharing a bedtime story for Anna. “When the war ended I threw myself into laying the foundations for improvements at Malfoy Manufacturing and at Renaissance. I needed to stay busy and feel I was contributing something...building our community up after the destruction I wrought in the war, instead of cutting more Wizarding folk down.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, to deny the charge Draco laid against himself, but the mage shushed him. “It’s true, Harry: Light or Dark, Order or Death Eater, we all caused great destruction. And even when it was needed—or maybe because it had been needed, I was sick of it.

“I decided I needed to get away. The Raedlers, Lars’ parents, had been key contributors to Renaissance when it first began. You know how some Yanks are—they try to associate themselves with any- and everything traditional and British to build up their own cachet.” Sie shrugged a shoulder. “They invited me to America, so I went.

“It was an amazing experience for me, Harry, one I’ll share more of another time. But I met Lars and Helene, who were on the outs with their families by then. And I accompanied the Raedlers to my first Ring Dance. I’d heard of them, of course,” sie said airily, waving aside the implied mastery of traditional etiquette and customs. “But there hadn’t been one in Britain for ages, and though I wasn’t going as a prospect, as Lars’ sister was, I was happy for the invitation to see something I’d only read about or heard about from Mother’s socialite friends.

“Paul’s firm had been hired as security, and it was pure chance that we ended up bumping into each other and joined the Dance.” Draco smiled faintly at the memory. “He was charming and kind, and very good to me—not that you want to hear that part, I suppose.” Sie leaned back and cut hir eyes to Harry’s with a smirk. “We courted afterward, and I honestly thought I might be happy to give up everything I’d planned for here and remain in the United States with him.”

“Draco,” Harry growled warningly.

“And then one day,” sie continued serenely, smoothing long-fingered strokes over Harry’s chest, “a very handsome and rugged man by the name of Soren Christiansen came into the office to apply as an agent.” Draco shook hir head ruefully. “I was there to meet Paul for lunch, but I knew as soon as their eyes met that he wouldn’t spare me another thought. It was like...being caught up in the backlash of fiendfyre, watching Resonance arc between them, Harry. It broke my heart a little—Paul’s too—but I knew then that Soren...Paul is whole with him as he never could have been with me, as I never could have been with him.”

Draco’s hand rose and fell with Harry’s deep sigh. “And us? Draco, what I feel with you—for you—”

The mage leaned even closer into Harry’s side and nuzzled his neck. “With you, Harry...I burn like the centre of the sun. We are right. Just as Paul and Soren found perfect Resonance between them, so I have found it with you. Can you deny it? Does this honestly feel like anything less than everything?”

Leaning back, Draco pulled Harry with hir, the coiled strength and solid weight of hir every bit as thrilling as the sparking warmth between them. “Everything?” Harry murmured against hir soft and curving lips.

“Yes,” hir answering whisper came, moist against his mouth. And they burned.


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Triarii-specific Terminology:
Vamar: Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam
Veru: Triarii spouse

A/N: Draco’s reading list contains (big surprise) some of my favourite reads: Arab Warlords and Iraqi Star-gazers by Gertrude Bell, and Kushiel’s Justice of Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel series

Chapter 8 Review Responses
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for the reviews!

Justmine25: Yes, very much tying up the loose ends of the philosophical discussion, in the way this chapter edges forward their romantic relationship!

Rakel: Another glimpse, but hopefully it’s refreshing having a bit of sweetness before it all falls to a mess.

applesauce_N_soysauce: There’s more to come, thank you!

Whitmore: Good question, what *did* happen to responsibility and sharing? I actually do think that we as communities work out a lot of our ethics through fiction; we decide what is acceptable and what we may/should question because of things we read in “impossible/fictional” settings and start to question their real world implications. But that’s just me and I’m no philosopher…*grin*

thrnbrooke: Hopefully 9 was worth the wait and had enough for you to sink your teeth into *grin*.