The Argument

The Argument

By Flutesong

Flutesong@hegalplace.com

www.heglaplace.com/flutesong

Warnings – Harry/Draco slash

Rating - Adults Only (eventually)

Notes – Harry Potter and his entire universe belong to JKR, her legal representatives and publishers.
I make no claims other than fan entertainment.
Books 1-5 and then AU as there is no way whatsoever that JKR will continue the series in this manner, written before HBP.

Prologue

The Argument wasn’t about how Harry Potter could have grown up to prefer intimate relationships with other men.

Gay chic and Metro-sexuality had permeated even into the Wizarding world. It wasn’t about how Harry was seldom seen actually having relationships. Friends from his school days knew he was not quite over the trauma and certainly not over the guilt. They teased him gently at first, when he was caught staring at the pretty boys on the dance floor and not oohing and aahing over the pretty girls in their skimpy outfits.

One night, when Harry actually joined in on the dance floor and ended up with one of the pretty fellows, his friends smiled at him and each other. They were glad Harry caved in and seemed to be enjoying himself for once. They felt a weight lift from their shoulders, and they danced and flirted with additional good will and freer consciences.

If Harry could finally move on, they could too and although they had not begrudged his rather sad demeanor and heavy heart, because, after all how could they? It was intoxicating and liberating to see him having a good time and they were quick to follow his lead.

The word spread through the Wizarding community with the speed of light. The editorials waged in the Daily Prophet for a few weeks until, showing no shame or remorse on behalf of himself or from his friends, heroes all, the paper abandoned their petty crusade, relegated him to the Life Style pages, and ran a spread on Ministry misuse of fiscal expenditures instead.

And life went on.

A few years passed and while Harry did not become ‘old’ news, he became less of a front-page story. His friends moved in and out of relationships until most of them settled down and married. When the babies started to come, Harry was named godfather or special uncle by almost everyone and the commonplace names of Harry, or Harriet, became a frequently used middle name.

Harry could always be called upon to baby sit or take a tyke to Diagon Alley for ice cream or to purchase a new storybook. He seemed happiest during these excursions. Since he was ‘almost’ family, the small ones were not particularly impressed by his history or his scar and cared more about a ride on his broom, especially if they could tease a Wronski Feint out of the ride or find the handful of chocolate frogs in his pockets.

The Argument was, of course, because when Harry finally seemed to settle in a relationship, it was with Draco Malfoy.

Harry’s friends, spouses and parents, all joined in and the Prophet put Harry back on the front page. This time, as the editorials raged, the articles seemed to glow with fury and confusion in red and blue print in the Sunday editions.

The truth was no one, not his friends, his enemies or the newspaper, knew how or when this scandalous relationship started or how long it had been hidden. Everyone was at a loss because Harry had always been around and had not seemed to have time for a relationship to bloom, let alone flourish, in secret.

When confronted, Harry, with a casual arm over Draco’s shoulders or Draco, with a hand tucked into Harry’s back pocket beneath his robes, would smile, nod and change the subject. Fuming, neither his friends nor the reporters could break Harry’s sangfroid or shatter Draco’s small sneer and the young men would take their leave, with no one the wiser.

They did know Harry was not living at Malfoy Manor, but since Draco had not lived there since the war had started, this was not surprising. The reporters camped out at various apartment buildings, but neither Harry nor Draco appeared and they went home empty handed. Unlike the days of Rita Skeeter, no one dared to actually make up lies or exaggerate things too far. Harry had, after all, defeated the Dark Lord and ended the war.

After that, he’d exposed the dirty side of the Ministry and cleaned that up too.
The world was still reeling and held a respect for Harry that was so far, inviolate.

Some of the friends of Harry’s friends or their spouses who had not gone to Hogwarts or who had spent the war years far away did not understand the furor. They pointed out that Draco Malfoy had not been accused of being a follower of Voldemort or of having been a Death Eater. His father certainly had, and died from his choice, but Draco had not, was not and fought on the right side and lived. They pointed out how he was a successful executive, rebuilding Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade with his pots of gold. If it was simply the name of Malfoy that shook everyone up so much, well there had to have been white wizards among the ancestors. They felt it a shame to hold this one accountable or at arms length because of his forefathers. They argued that old, old Dumbledore had called upon young Malfoy to add a modern medical wing and potions laboratory onto Hogwarts, how Draco had done so at once and paid the builders overtime to get it done with haste.

Among themselves, they pointed out how handsome Draco was and how urbane, and that had to count for something. When they dared, after hearing the stories of how horrible Malfoy had been at school, they whispered about the thin line between love and hate and passion.

At long last, things quieted down. Harry was, after all, still available to come to dinner, take the kids out, or organize lavish birthday parties. No one really thought that Malfoy was a child molester, so he came along, was mostly silent, and never brought poison.

None of the old crowd could be said to be comfortable with the arrangement, but they adjusted somewhat because Harry was important to them and life went on.

Chapter One – Hogwarts (past)

Late one autumn afternoon, just as the shadows lengthened on the old stones of the main hall, if you looked closely and had a good eye, two shadows seemed to merge and blend into and out of the stones. However, no one was looking and even in those dangerous times, no one who was available to look bothered, feeling safe inside the ancient walls.

Nevertheless, the two boys were careful and approached the small parlor on the ground floor with as much stealth as they could manage. Once inside, they stood staring at each other from opposite ends of the old piano, careful not to touch it lest a discordant note draw attention to their occupation.

The more restive of the two, dark hair almost quivering with sincerity, shifted from foot to foot, rubbing at a healing scrape on his right forearm. He spoke first, “Why did you do it?” He beseeched, taking a moment to stop rubbing and extend his hand in supplication.

The flaxen haired youth, tossed his head, looked down at the old carpeting and shrugged, “I didn’t do it for you!” He answered angrily.

“You could have been killed!” Harry went on, determined to get Malfoy to answer his question. He had to know; he really had to know.

Malfoy kept his eyes on the carpet and fisting his hands in his robes didn’t answer.

“Come on Malfoy,” Harry’s voice took on an aggrieved tone, “the first time you ever did anything brave and fine and you don’t want credit? That’s hard to believe.”

Malfoy scowled. He shifted back and forth. He seemed loath to answer and yet, unwilling to leave the room. He walked around the piano and facing Harry directly with less that an arm’s length between them, spit out, “He is my father, he should have had faith in me, and he should have known I was going to get the snitch first sometime.”

Harry stared into Malfoy’s pale face, seeing, for the first time, the deep hurt the other boy carried beneath his unpleasant expression and currently bruised and battered face. Harry sighed and looked away. It was true, what Malfoy said, Lucius had not even held a scintilla of hope or belief that his son would or could possibly catch the snitch. That certainty had put the entire terrible plan in jeopardy and sent it pear shaped in a hurry. Lucius had played for high stakes and this time he lost more than a house elf, this time, he’d lost himself his son.

Harry reached out, automatically attempting to soothe the other boy, but Malfoy shrugged him off and said again, “I didn’t do it for you!” Malfoy thrust Harry’s wand into Harry’s hands, pivoted, robes flying around him and stalked out of the room.

Chapter 2 – Quidditch (past)

The glorious fall afternoon belied the growing darkness over the Wizarding world and many more parents than usual came for the first game of the season. Gryffindor and Slytherin were always a treat to watch for pure action and steamy emotions. Many of the Gryffindor parents came, as much in support of Harry Potter as they were for there for their own old House and children.

Word that Sirius Black had been innocent and died trying to protect Harry had spread like wildfire and whether or not the Daily Prophet ran a story about it or the Ministry acknowledged it, they all knew that once again, Harry Potter had gotten the raw end of the deal. Most of their fifth and sixth year Gryffindor children had come home and spent the summer more somber than just a year’s maturity should have warranted. Their parents, who’d lived through the last Voldemort Terror, felt their hearts break at what was coming and would land on their children soon enough. So, they were more tolerant of youthful excesses and sorrier to see the kids off for another year than usual and came to the game as a way to express their distress and lend support.

The game began with a furious pace and a flurry of brutish punches exchanged between the two team’s beaters. Everyone watched with baited breath as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy circled above the fray, calling down insults and invectives at the other’s team and glaring silver and emerald beams of hatred across the sky between them.

The game progressed, the crowd screamed and chanted for their players. Malfoy looked good. No one, Gryffindor or Slytherin could deny he looked faster and sleeker than in years past. He zoomed by Harry and between the other Gryffindor players, spreading confusion and messing up the game plan. He seemed confident and the Gryffindors worried that he had some nefarious plan or trick up his sleeves, but as hard as they looked, they couldn’t find any kind of foul and yelled their support for Harry as loudly as they could.

Suddenly the snitch appeared, dropping from some unreachable altitude right into the middle of the game. The crowd screamed and then, grew silent as the two seekers flew between the stands and their teammates without pause or the barest hint of regard for safety. Everyone held their breath, knowing Harry’s gifts were stretched to the maximum and amazed at Malfoy’s ease, speed and seeming lack of nervousness. This action was worthy of World Cup play and everyone knew it.

All hearts fluttered with the snitch and all lungs gasped as the boys drew closer and closer on what was certainly a path to a disastrous crash.

Draco Malfoy, his arm stretched and his body half standing on the broom’s footrest grabbed the snitch first, just as Harry Potter also grabbed for the small golden prize at the same moment. For a brief second of glory, Malfoy grinned. The crowd screamed and suddenly, with what the witnesses would say later was a frozen pause, both boys, Potter’s hand still clutching Malfoy’s fist, went entirely still and a second later, they and the snitch vanished.

Only a very few fans saw the glitter of another, albeit slower snitch, fluttering in the outfield.

Chapter 3 – To the Manor Born

Harry was cursing Voldemort even as his body swirled under the spell of the Portkey. He couldn’t believe the insane bastard would try the same kind of kidnapping scheme again. He tried to focus on landing on his feet and not on his ass when the destination appeared. He was thankful he had hidden his wand beneath his Quidditch robes. The Tri-Wizard Tournament two years ago and last year’s disaster at the Ministry had taught him to carry his wand at all times.

The room was dim and from the pressure in his ears, far underground. The air was heavy with a strong perfume that was half musk and half acrid incense. It made Harry’s head swim. Draco Malfoy, who had not landed on his feet, struggled to stand, still clutching the fluttering snitch and obviously scared out of his mind.

Harry realized the second when Malfoy caught sight of his father, no doubt resurrected from Azkaban by Voldemort. For a moment, the other boy stood taller, but when he saw who Lucius was standing next to, he cringed back and tried to hide. Even under these conditions, Harry felt a small spurt of relief that Draco was more surprised than and at least as scared as he was.

The crowd of Death Eaters pressed in close to the boys and laughing and catcalling, they took the snitch from Draco. “My Lord,” they called out, “Potter is here and look who he’s brought with him!” They parted and left the boys in full view of Voldemort who was grinning a terrible smile

Harry heard Draco gasp. Voldemort stepped toward them. In a thin voice, Draco called out, “Father, what is happening?”

Voldemort chuckled deep in his throat; it sounded like a death rattle. Harry clutched his wand tighter under his robe. From behind Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange stepped out, a vicious smile on her red lips. “Yes Lucius,” she drawled, “what ‘is’ Draco doing here? I thought you promised he wouldn’t get near the snitch; underestimated him, did you?” She asked slyly, took the snitch from one of the masked men, broke off the wings and jauntily tossed it from hand to hand.

“Now, now, my dear,” Voldemort hissed, “the boy’s arrival is fortuitous. I understand there is no love lost between these two and young Malfoy should enjoy the show thoroughly. And this way, he begins his destiny to serve me all the sooner.”

“Father!” Draco called out sharply.

“Hold your tongue, boy,” Voldemort came closer, “I am your Lord, what is happening here is my will, and you and your father are my servants! I will inform you of your role, you shall look to me!”

Draco whimpered, and Harry could feel the fear roll off him as he edged closer. “You already tried this once!” Harry called out, keeping his voice as cocky and arrogant as he could. He stepped in front of Draco and drew his wand. The Death Eaters immediately drew their wands and began a variety of incantations when Voldemort hissed sharply, “Not yet, not yet, we have a game or two to play with Mr. Potter first.” Voldemort stopped, deigned to notice Harry and negligently pointed a long pale finger at him. “Crucio,” he intoned and as Harry dropped his wand, fell to the floor, pain searing every inch of his body he heard Draco scream “No!”

He heard Voldemort whisper, “Crucio,” a second time and felt Draco fall to the floor beside him.

Chapter 4 – Know Thy Enemy

When he got his breath back, all Harry saw were the bottom edges of black robes and black boots. Above the chants and cries from the Death Eaters, he heard Draco whimpering and reaching a hand in that direction, felt the other boy’s arm guard. He thought how far away and how simple the enmity of a Quidditch game seemed now. He rolled closer and saw Draco’s pale tearstained face and wide bewildered eyes.

Draco, making a concerted effort not to cry, met Harry’s eyes, took a deep breath, and rolled closer. Whispering jerkily, he leaned into Harry’s face, “Roll under the wall; the part between the sconces” he said, nodding towards the stone wall behind them.

“What?” Harry asked. It looked like solid stone to him.

“Hurry!” Draco answered, the familiar smirk forming on his otherwise terror filled face. “It’s a House Elf secret. Follow the path until you get to a fork, go left and go as fast as you can. You will go under the wards and end up in the park beyond the gates. You’ll have to crawl, go quietly. Hail a Knight Bus or apparate, if you can, back to Hogwarts.”

Harry nodded and stared to roll towards the wall, realizing Draco was not following, he turned back. “Come on then,” he whispered urgently.

No!” Draco whispered back, “My father’s here, I’ll be alright and I am going to create a distraction. You have to hurry. I don’t know if father remembers there is a passageway from this room! Go!” He pushed Harry.

Harry went, and as he started to crawl down the path, rough stone bruising his hands and knees, and scraping his forearms, he heard Draco scream “Father!” He kept going and soon, heard nothing but his own harsh breaths coming in quick pants.

He realized two things simultaneously, Draco had saved him and Draco would die for doing so as soon as Voldemort or Lucius realized it. Lucius would not save his son at the cost of offending Voldemort.

He crawled faster, determined not to let Draco’s unexpected largess go to waste.

Chapter 5 – Time and Wisdom

The Knight Bus went faster and was bumpier than the last time Harry had ridden on it. Stan Shuntpike merely gaped at Harry, mouth opened in an unattractive way. Harry was grateful he wasn’t being badgered by questions. He looked down at himself and saw he was scraped and bleeding all over his hands and arms, he saw his Quidditch leggings were also stained red with seeping blood. He hardly felt any pain however; he was still on an adrenalin high. He was trying to process his quick escape and Draco Malfoy’s help. He would have never guessed Draco would ever help him, let alone have the courage to help anyone.

He arrived at the gates of Hogwarts to find Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey and Madam Hootch waiting with stretchers, lanterns and anxious expressions. He was surprised Hermione and Ron weren’t hovering as well.

Madam Hootch caught him as he stumbled off the bus, Dumbledore bent before him ascertaining how much damage and how many injuries he’d come in for this time. By lantern light, the blood looked black and far worse than it really was. “Malfoy, Voldemort, Death Eaters, Malfoy Manor… lost my wand…” Harry gasped out. “Draco saved me, but he’s still there. They’ll kill him! You have to do something Professor!”

“The Aurors are on the way,” Dumbledore spoke with certainty, “If young Draco is still alive they will get him out.”

Harry heard Professor Snape choke back a snort, and for the first time in his life, agreed with Snape. He doubted an entire contingent of Aurors could break through the wards with Voldemort there, find the underground room and save Malfoy in time.

Madam Pomfrey bustled in between Dumbledore and Harry. She called for a stretcher and chivvied Harry on to it. Harry went, finding he was suddenly exhausted and shaking. The rest of the evening was a blur of healing potions and stinging ointments. Finally, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

When Harry awoke, Ron and Hermione were there, surreptitiously sneaking bites of bacon from his breakfast tray. They looked paler and shakier than Harry felt.

“Good man,” Ron said jovially when he saw Harry reaching for his glasses. “I told you he’d be right as rain when he woke.”

“You said no such thing Ronald Weasley,” Hermione answered. “You were walking a rut in the floor until you finally decided to sit down and eat Harry’s breakfast.”

“A man’s got to eat,” Harry croaked out and reached for the glass of juice on his tray.

Hermione fussed with Harry’s silverware, placing it more accessibly, she spoke in a serious undertone, “What happened Harry? Dumbledore and the other professors won’t say a word.”

“Is Draco back?” Harry put down his glass.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other. If they were surprised Harry called Malfoy Draco, they disregarded it, instead looking at each other and then back at Harry.

“Well?” Harry asked.

Ron spoke quickly, motioning with his chin to a screen covered bed further down the ward, “We think that’s him. Madam Pomfrey and Snape have been hovering there all morning so we haven’t actually taken a look.”

“He’s alive then? Harry asked impatiently.

“Yeah, too bad about that really,” Ron answered.

Just as Harry opened his mouth to tell his friends what really happened, Dumbledore loomed up behind Hermione. “Good, good you’re awake, Harry. I believe Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, that breakfast in being served in the Main Hall, off with you now.”

Hermione and Ron, sporting mulish expressions, reluctantly got to their feet, “We’ll be back after class,” Ron muttered and Hermione nodded.

“Okay,” Harry murmured his eyes on Dumbledore.

“Bye then,” said Hermione.

“See you,” Answered Harry. His friends walked away.

“Wonderful to see you awake, my boy,” Dumbledore said, waving his hand and replenishing the bacon on Harry’s plate. He took a piece of strudel for himself and conjuring a comfortable chair from thin air, sat down and took a healthy bite.

Harry almost grinned at Dumbledore’s attempt to be disarming, but then he remembered the other times he’d given way, and hardened his heart. He was no longer a wide-eyed innocent and he remembered every moment of the old man’s apology last year. The sting of Sirius’s death was always with him.

“How is Malfoy?” Harry asked, refusing to eat before someone told him.

Dumbledore sighed wearily; finished the last bit of strudel with less enthusiasm, and said, “He’s badly injured, but alive. The Death Eaters held back from cursing him, but they did not hold back from using their fists and feet. The aurors got to him with almost no time left to spare, he was being trampled as they arrived.”

Harry stared at Dumbledore as if somehow he could discern if what he’d said was the whole story.

Keeping his gaze on Harry, Dumbledore called out, “Severus, please come here for a moment.”

Harry watched Snape approach, the man looked exhausted, pale, greasy and thoroughly out of sorts, even Harry could tell this was different from the man’s habitual negative demeanor. He was wiping his hands on a towel, which vanished as he came to a stop beside Dumbledore’s chair. “Yes, Headmaster?” Snape asked.

“What is Mr. Malfoy’s condition?” Dumbledore asked in return.

Snape swallowed; turned mean accusing eyes to Harry, and glared at him while he answered. “Draco is responding slower than we’d hoped to the doses of Skelemend, but as there are so many bones to heal, that is not surprising. We have, I believe, replenished his blood supply.”

Harry cringed at Snape’s description. Snape sneered, continuing, “We had to remove his spleen and part of his lower bowel, they were simply mush and we couldn’t repair them magically. We dare not repair the bruising until he regains some strength, but he will live,” Snape said; and then spoke again more softly, “He will live.”

“Very well, Severus. I know he is in the best of hands with you and Madam Pomfrey at his side. Thank You.” Dumbledore said, still watching Harry.

Snape pivoted, his robes swirling out behind him and stalked back to Malfoy’s bed.

Chapter 6 – Metamorphosis

Mostly mended, Harry left the hospital ward later that afternoon. He strained his ears, hoping to hear Malfoy say something, but other than Snape muttering about blood loss and internal injuries, he had not head Malfoy make a sound. With Snape there, Harry knew he would not be allowed behind the screens, but he asked Madam Pomfrey every time she went by how the other boy was faring.

At breakfast, Dumbledore asked Harry not to reveal what had happened at the manor until Malfoy had a chance to either confirm or deny Harry’s version. Harry had argued that he didn’t have a ‘version’ he had the truth. Dumbledore countered and suggested that maybe Malfoy would not want the world to know his father had counted on him for so little and turned against him in front of the Death Eaters. It might be very hard to face that fact, Dumbledore said and Harry had to agree. Lucius had been the center of all of Malfoy’s confidence and spite and Harry wondered how the boy would adjust. He wondered if Draco would decide to go on as he had been, spiteful and supporting Voldemort, or if he would change and begin to understand the consequences of the Dark Lord and his credo.

Harry wanted to know why Malfoy had saved him and more, he wanted to know why Malfoy had been willing to sacrifice himself.

Hermione and Ron met him in the corridor and asked a thousand questions. Harry put them off, just saying he had unexpectedly found a way out of the Manor and made it to the Knight Bus. His friends were far from satisfied, but after exchanging meaningful glances, they described at length how the crowd at the game had gone berserk and how some parents were so scared and outraged that they insisted on removing their children from the school. Ministry officials had come and raged aloud at how Dumbledore could’ve allowed another Death Eater plot to happen on Hogwart’s grounds.

They told Harry to watch out because the Prophet was on the warpath looking to interview him and take pictures.

Harry wanted to go to his room and sleep, but he decided that no one there would leave him alone anyway and went to class. He was taking Arithmancy, finding he had a head for analysis that served him well. Usually he was interested in the subject, but today he was once again the center of the kind of attention he hated. The Slytherins glared at him, and he wondered if Goyle and Crabbe would be lurking somewhere to catch him later.

He went back to the hospital wing after class and finding Malfoy alone, approached the bed.

The other boy was a mass of black and blue swelling, both arms and legs extended with braces and the back of his neck slowly seeping red onto the white pillow. He was either sleeping or unconscious. Harry actually hoped he was unconscious and not feeling any pain. He looked horrible. Harry felt his knees give way and he sat on the hard chair beside the bed. Maybe something in his face conveyed his feelings, but whatever it was, neither Snape nor Madam Pomfrey said a word about him going away and he sat there when they came and went, attending to Draco.

When they pulled back the coverlet, Harry choked on a throat suddenly full of bile. The boy’s entire abdomen was bloated and bruised almost black. Surprisingly, Harry noticed that Draco had a small thatch of fine pale hair on his chest although Harry had never noticed if Malfoy had started to shave. Maybe he hadn’t thought of it because he was always in Crabbe and Goyle’s company and they had five-o’clock shadows by noon.

Needing to convey something of his feelings, Harry searched for a place to pat Draco, He finally settled on holding the boy’s left and mostly unbruised ankle. Once he was alone and evening quiet overtook the hospital, Harry thought he felt Draco’s fast light pulse coursing through the slender bones of the high arched foot.

He did not know how long he’d sat there when Dumbledore silently appeared and sat beside him. Not enjoying the silent companionship, Harry whispered harshly, “Why can’t you make him well?”

Dumbledore sighed and took a moment to answer, “Harry, there is still a great deal about magic you do not understand. The use of magic is not meant to contravene nature. While we can do many things Muggles cannot, some of the healing has to come from the injured person. Otherwise, the shock to the system could cause more problems.”

Harry harrumphed. Dumbledore petted his beard and silence reigned. At long last, after Snape and Madam Pomfrey had dosed Draco again, Dumbledore suggested Harry go to his own bed.

Harry got up slowly, turned to Dumbledore and asked, “Why did he save me? He hates me, always has.”

Dumbledore stared at the silent, still figure on the bed, “Perhaps he realized hate was not the answer, it seldom is. Maybe he looked to a father he thought was stronger than servitude and didn’t find him. I do not know Harry, what is in young Malfoy’s heart of hearts. Perhaps now you will be the one to find out.”

Harry took one last look at Draco, “I didn’t know he had a heart at all, let alone a secret one.”

Dumbledore smiled, it was an old and wise expression. Instead of resenting it, Harry thought that at this time of night and beside a sick bed, maybe the old man had a right to knowing more than he did.

“What’s going to happen now?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head and answered mournfully, “War, Harry. I think war is at hand. May the Gods preserve us.”

Harry felt tears back up in his throat, he nodded solemnly and left the room.

Chapter 7 – Hide and Seek

War did come and with an outpouring of interracial hate that shook the entire Wizarding World, in Britain and abroad. Families sent the old, the infirm and their children out of the country, hoping for a safer environment. Many of the elderly half-blooded wizards said it was like WWII and the bombing of London all over again.

Hogwarts emptied, almost all of the younger children were gone within the first month. Surprisingly, Slytherin house lost students at the same rate as the other houses. Many, including Draco Malfoy stayed, but most of his elite guard went right away. Crabbe had to be pulled from the building, but for all his reluctance, he did not ask either Snape or Dumbledore to help him.

Harry watched Draco carefully. He was waiting for some sign that the boy had changed or made a decision to fight against Voldemort. But, Draco did nothing unusual, except that he was quieter. Even before all his cronies were gone, he’d stopped baiting Gryffindors and stopped trying to get Harry, Ron or Hermione in trouble. He seemed arrogant in a different way; it was an intense, quiet and aloof bubble he constructed around himself. If Harry hadn’t believed Draco was still hurting, he would have said Draco was acting the part of a broken hero and looking for sympathy.

Ron and Hermione watched Harry watch Malfoy. Although Harry had not said so, they had come to the conclusion that somehow or other Draco had helped save their friend. Ron was sure it was either an accident or because Malfoy had made a mistake. Hermione was not sure what to think, but tended to agree with Ron. She kept Ron calm by reminding him whatever Malfoy had done or not done or why he had done it, Harry was alive and that was a good thing.

The conflict went on, with more and more Wizarding folks showing themselves in front of Muggles. The Ministry could not handle the great numbers of Obliviates and Confunduses as well as monitor the war and so they gave up except for the most egregious cases. The Muggle public began to panic; sure terrorists with highly developed chemical and psychedelic or psychologically enhanced biological weapons were the cause of all the strange sightings. Many neighborhoods in major cities became inaccessible without proper ID and a need to visit reason. Traffic was a mess, ambulances and fire-rescue personnel could not get through, otherwise minor accidents became major, and loss of Muggle property and lives mounted.

Hogwarts was under siege as well. Once again, Dementors encircled the castle. This time they had orders to set upon anyone or anything that came their way, student or professor, House Elf or owl, centaur or hippogriff. One day, during History of Magic, Susan Bones burst into tears, repeating over and over that the birds were all gone, there was no more birdsong and the world was ending. She spent three days in hospital under sedation. When she returned to class, everyone had transfigured birds for her to see and hear. Alas, this only made her sad again, because she knew they were not real and they were all in cages.

Without argument, the Heads of all the houses decided the remaining students should sleep in the main hall and come and go from classes in groups. Prefects and older students were assigned to patrol the hall and do a head count every hour of the night. This freed the professors so they could get some rest or go out and reconnoiter.

Classes went on and even Professor Binns was convinced to lecture about historical battle strategies and previous sieges of Hogwarts. Professor Sprout had all her students hurriedly seed, pot and harvest medicinal plants. Snape had all his classes concocting various potions and elixirs that could help many kinds of injuries. He didn’t even need to harass anyone, because Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, everyone understood what was at stake and kept a tight rein on their attention and tempers. The stockpile grew and many students were heard to say proudly that the colorfully glowing jars were more important and more valuable than jewels.

Late one night, right after his head was counted and with almost an hour before it was counted again, Harry, making sure Ron was asleep and Hermione was too far away to notice, tried crawling out of the main hall on his way to the kitchens. He was itching to know if there were any House Elf secret corridors in or under the castle. The Marauder’s Map didn’t show any, but perhaps that was because none of the original quartet knew there were such things to put on it.

He bumped up against a warm body, wrapped in a black cape, sitting just a few feet from the side door. As soon as the cloak slipped a little, he was able to see it was Malfoy asleep under his cape. Harry stared, momentarily stopped in his tracks. Draco opened his eyes. Strangely, he seemed unsurprised that Harry was practically sitting on his robe in the middle of the night.

“Going somewhere?” He whispered.

Harry sighed. Draco raised his eyebrows in an inquiring way.

Harry decided to tell the truth, after all it was Malfoy who had shown him the way in the first place. “I want to question the House Elves in the kitchen; maybe they have secret passages in the castle the same way as in your home.

Malfoy pursed his mouth, Harry waited. “What are you going to so if they say yes?” He asked.

Harry, who hadn’t really thought that far ahead, was at a loss. Malfoy smiled cunningly. “I’ll come too, and then we can see what to do.”

“You want to come with me?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes unwound himself from the cloak and said, “Lead on McDuff,” Harry laughed softly; suddenly cheered he was not in this alone and led the way.

Chapter 8 – A Wink and a Nudge

The House Elves were, for once, not happy to see students dropping by the kitchen after hours. Their orders came from Dumbledore that students were in danger and should be obeying the rules.

“You should be in your beds, Master Draco, Mr. Potter,” squeaked Sunni as she and several others dusted off chairs and brought hot cocoa and a tray of cookies to the table. They waved their arms and tucked napkins into the boy’s collars. “This is not the time to be wandering about,” an elderly Elf wheezed out and added soft slippers to the boy’s sock clad feet.

Warm and welcomed despite their worry, Harry and Draco tucked into the unexpected snack with relish. Most of the kitchen inhabitants went back to preparations for breakfast and Dobby approached, nervous about Malfoy but wanting to greet Harry Potter anyway.

“Hello Harry Potter, Sir,” Dobby said adding dishes of ice cream to the table.

“Hello Dobby!” Harry exclaimed, swallowed and said, “You remember Draco, Dobby?”

Malfoy raised his head from his plate and eyed Dobby. Comprehension came slowly and Malfoy frowned, “What are you doing here Dobby?”

“I is free, Master Draco.” Dobby trilled in his squeaky voice, “I is not working
for Master Malfoy for a long time,” he added, chest swelled with importance.

“Really?” Draco mused, “Father never said anything about freeing House Elves.”

“I am the only one!” Dobby piped, “Mr. Harry Potter saved me and tricked Master into freeing me.”

Malfoy’s mouth turned down at the corners and Dobby seemed to shrink a bit, “Got one over on my father, did you Potter?” He said in a bitter voice.

“It was a long time ago and doesn’t matter. Dobby, Draco saved my life and he used your secrets to do it!” Harry spoke quickly, not wanting Draco to start feeling bad about his father again.

“What secrets is they, Harry Potter?” Dobby asked looking a bit fearfully at Draco.

Draco shrugged and went back to his ice cream.

“We were in a deep basement or dungeon, Dobby, surrounded and no doubt about to be killed when Draco told me to slide under the wall and take a stone corridor all the way outside the Manor.”

Dobby’s eyes bulged even more, “You is remembering that Master Draco?” Draco bent further over his dish. “You was but a little one, sir, always running away from your Nursie.” Dobby turned to Harry and all the Elves grew silent, “Master Draco would take the paths to get away from bedtime, sir. He would try to hide there all night. Master Lucius would get very angry at Dobby sir, when I says I could not find Master Draco.”

“But you never told, Dobby?” Harry asked looking askance at Draco who was attempting to bury his face in an éclair. Harry grinned and Draco shuddered.

Dobby puffed out his chest, “I be serving Young Master Draco too. He was just wanting a bit of fun and no harm, sir.”

“Ah,” said Harry, letting his grin widen and poking Draco with his spoon. “A bit of fun was it, Draco?”

“All right, Potter,” Malfoy growled, “now you’ve had a bit of fun too. Can we get on with why we’re here?”

Harry got serious, “Dobby, you know things are bad outside the school, don’t you?”

Dobby nodded and all the other Elves nodded too. “We knows, sir. The dark Masters’ is all busy hurting and killing everyone.”

Harry looked around the room, meeting as many eyes as would turn to him, “We need to know if there are pathways here at Hogwarts, Dobby.

Draco sat up and abandoned his sweets. He stared sternly at Dobby and Harry thought how much he resembled his father in that moment. “We need to know so we can help keep the bad ones out or help the students escape if we’re attacked,” He intoned severely.

The Elves became agitated again, “you ‘is’ a bad one Master Draco,” Dobby all but screeched, grabbed a fork and punctured himself on the other hand in punishment.

“Stop!” Draco yelled and Dobby and the other Elves froze. “We just want an honest answer, Dobby. The rest of you needn’t worry, I am not going to help my Father or the Dark Lord get into Hogwarts. I am not on his side anymore, Dobby.”

Dobby and many of the other Elves crowded around Draco, touching his arms and neck, chattering at each other. Soon they joined hands and a very old Elf said an incantation in a language unknown to Harry. A cloud formed over Malfoy’s head. First, it was dark brown, greasy and gray, swirling like a storm, then it calmed and became a rusty yellow, that changed, and it became blue with white streaks, a hint of rose tingeing the outer edge. The Elves began to clap and shake Dobby’s hand. Dobby’s eyes filled with tears and he prostrated himself in front of Draco and hugged Draco’s knees.

Draco looked at Harry wildly, “What in the blazes is this Dobby,” he asked.

Dobby flushed an unattractive shade of green. “Begging your pardon sir, we was just determining what was inside of you. Wizards is always telling lies, sir. Even to themselves.”

Malfoy sighed and looked up to see if any remnants of the cloud remained, but it was gone. He sighed again, “So, what about me? Am I lying?”

Dobby stood tall once more, “You is trying sir, You is trying very hard to tell the truth to Dobby. You is just not used to it yet.”

“Ah,” said Draco Malfoy, quirked an eyebrow at Harry “must get more practice in then, I suppose,” He said and laughed.

Dobby laughed too and the rest of the Elves calmed down and brought out fresh cocoa.

Harry felt a huge wave of relief wash over him, Draco was on ‘his’ side now, there was hope where there was only suspicion before. Harry felt that this moment would make the difference, maybe a life or death difference to him. He sipped his cocoa gratefully and swallowed the lump in his throat and his impulse to jump up and hug the other boy. “Lots of practice” he said to Draco with a wink, “lots and lots of practice.”

Draco scowled at him, but couldn’t hold onto the angry expression and grinned instead.

Chapter 9 – Dancing in the Dark

There were no tunnels that the Elves were willing, Draco thought, or able, Harry believed, to tell them. But, it felt so good to be out of the main hall and all the restless bodies snoring, snuffling, sighing or crying that the boys stayed in the kitchen too long.

Professor Snape stormed in, looked around and shook a fist under Harry’s nose, “Isn’t enough that you almost got Mr. Malfoy killed recently? You have to drag him into your escapades now? I am going to put a locator on you Mr. Potter so that you won’t be able to go to the bathroom without an attendant following you!”

“Professor…” Draco started to speak.

Snape rounded on him, still shaking his fist and shouting. “If you dare, Mr. Malfoy. If you dare to defend Potter, I’ll have you locked in hospital for testing to see if you’ve gone mad!”

Malfoy stared at Snape with his best superior deadpan expression plastered to his face. He drawled, “Really Professor, we were simply hungry at the same moment. Surely, you told me just yesterday that I needed to build my health back up? Moreover, Potter is always a stone underweight. It’s not as if we were outside wandering around the grounds.” He finished, raising his chin in arrogant affront.

Harry almost laughed aloud, now that he was getting to actually know Draco, the superior smirking and posturing struck him as funny instead of aggravating. He wondered if Draco knew he had a chocolate mustache from the cocoa around his mouth. He bit his knuckle, knowing if he laughed now, Snape would surely have his head.

Snape actually growled deep in his throat, it made the Elves scurry for the pantry. Pounding the table with a strong enough bang that the dishes rattled and crumbs flew, he said in a fierce undertone, “Get back to the hall immediately, find your beds and go to them now.”

The boys, not being entirely stupid, got to their feet, said a quick thank you to Dobby and fled.

By the time they sank to floor in same spot where Harry had encountered Draco in what seemed like hours ago, both boys were full of suppressed giggles. Malfoy threw his black cloak over them both. They rocked back and forth in the darkness, trying not to howl.

Slowly they calmed down, only snorting occasionally and gasping for breath. “He thinks you’ve gone starkers,” Harry said.

Draco turned toward Harry, “he thinks you’re out to corrupt me,” he dissolved into another flurry of giggles.

“As if,” Harry replied.

Heaving a deep sigh and letting it out slowly, Draco leaned back against the wall. Harry leaned back too and was overtaken by a huge yawn. “You better find your bed,” Draco whispered.

“In a moment,” Harry answered between another yawn and sneeze. He laughed weakly. Draco nudged him with his shoulder. “I am terribly sorry you were wounded, you know?” Harry said quietly. He could feel Draco nod.

Draco turned towards Harry, “It’s not your fault Voldemort and my father are both insane,” he said sadly.

Harry turned towards Draco as if he could see him in the dark, “No one is safe around me Draco,” he replied seriously.

Draco tensed and then relaxed, “I’ll take my chances,” he said, speaking directly into Harry’s face.

Harry shrugged, “Okay, but you’ve been warned.”

Draco nodded, they were so close, his chin rubbed Harry’s cheek and they both froze by the unexpectedness of the touch. Slowly Harry raised his face, Draco lowered his, sigh met sigh, and lips brushed lips. Astonished, neither said a word as Harry slipped out from beneath the cloak and headed to bed.

Just before he dropped into sleep Harry realized two things, the kiss had been sweet, and not only from the chocolate and Draco did indeed need to shave.

Chapter 10 – Ready or Not

Harry would have wondered and worried about the kiss, but he did not have time. In a fresh wave of fear and devastation, that following Tuesday brought a large contingent of displaced and homeless Wizard families to the Hogwarts outer wards. A fierce argument took place inside, and Harry was included as a full member of the Order. Should the people be allowed in or kept out? There was no doubt that these people were in need, but then many Voldemort supporters were suffering too.

Were they spies and saboteurs? Were they simply honestly suffering and homeless? In the end, they were allowed in, given the Ravenclaw House space to bed down. They were allowed only in parts of the castle and all their communications by floo or by owl were monitored.

Most of the remaining students welcomed the ragtag bunch, as they played cards and games with them in the evenings and offered parental warmth and comfort. Harry felt additionally beset by more eyes following him about. Draco simply hid in the Slytherin dorm until all his bruises faded.

By the time everyone was calm again and Draco had emerged from hiding, NEWTS preparation was in full swing.

Of the remaining 6th year students, those that protested the emphasis on NEWT preparation instead of defense practice were eventually won over to serious study by repetition from the teachers that the more they knew, the better the chance of helping the war effort.

Owls came less and less often, not because there was less fighting, but because there was simply less news the families dared to share that wouldn’t upset their children, and have them agitating to come home and join the fight. The students, including Malfoy and Harry bonded more closely. While Ron, Hermione, Neville and a few other Gryffindors did not trust the changes in Malfoy, they did trust Harry and so Malfoy was accepted with strong caveats.

The remaining Slytherins held the Gryffindors in the same dubious regard, but an uneasy truce did build and the Houses began to intermix, study and train together with fewer objections and slightly less suspicion.

The Great Hall was divided into two large sections at night, girls on one side and boys on the other. The Prefects were no longer trusted to keep the bounds and professors took over the nighttime monitoring. The social structure gradually changed. The students and teachers tried to maintain order and schedules as before, but it was impossible to ignore what was happening in the rest of the Wizarding World. The younger students became prone to nightmares and tears and the homeless who were sheltering in the school helped them cope. The numbers swelled and the staff took two days, with the help of the more advanced students, to expand the old stables into large, furnished and partitioned barracks to house them. Some previous students returned with their families and were reintegrated back into classes and Houses.

The 6th and 7th year students became almost isolated from the others, as their studies grew more intense. Many of the Professors began to coach Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and Apparation. The bar was raised as hexes, spells and defensive maneuvers, usually far outside the realm of a peacetime education, were added to the curriculum. Dumbledore came and the more powerful the curses he taught, the softer and sadder his voice became. His deep sorrow impressed the students, the Slytherins included, and everyone thought, surely, things were bad if Dumbledore was afraid.

Chapter 11 – Into the Valley

Years later, when the scandal of a romantic relationship between Harry and Draco became a fact, a few of the students who were in their year would recollect the closeness that grew between them those last few months of the war and point to that time as the basis for what was to come. Ron and Hermione, Pansy and Blaise, stayed on the sidelines, each warning their chosen friend of possible treachery and double cross. Nevertheless, Harry and Draco began to plan and execute more and more elaborate DADA duels and challenges. They both cut their hair short in a military style, and this time Harry’s mop did not grow back overnight. They began to wear boots and shorter robes that did not interfere when they raised their arms to aim their wands. Draco tried for a dashing goatee, but it remained wispy and he soon shaved it off. The other boys followed, of course, because these defacto leaders were emerging with seriously powerful displays of magic.

Quidditch moves were redefined and drilled as aerial offensive and defensive maneuvers. Somehow, one rainy day when the bitter winter winds began to toss the riders about on their brooms, a shipment of new brooms, enough for all 6th and 7th years appeared and were stacked in the Quidditch broom shack. The training sessions got a boost of new energy along with the new brooms.

No one knew where the brooms had come from and no one cared, a last bit of youthful joy was captured when they flew. Dumbledore and McGonagall came to watch and suggest moves, Snape sneered but he had hot pepper-up potions ready and warm compresses for chapped faces and hands by the dozen in a sack by his side. He became integral to the sessions when he, Professor Sprout, Harry and Draco developed a shower spray, made from some old garden hoses refitted with magical nozzles, which carried a Confundus atomizer. This was not poisonous, as they were all afraid they would accidentally spray each other in a close fight, but it was enough to make whomever got a whiff of it to loose their bearings and forget, for a while, why they were in an aerial battle.

Draco had not transformed so much that he did not accidentally-on-purpose, spray a formation that included Ron. Ron began to fly upside down. Several others simply floated around until they landed and sat happily on the cold, damp grass of the pitch.

Hermione complained, but McGonagall was hard pressed to keep a grin off her face, and no real harm was done.

By December, it became clear that the youths would go into battle from the air.

A hillside, several miles from Hogsmeade, but still well within magical airspace, was chosen. An Order spy was sure that Voldemort’s troops were going to gather there on New Year’s Eve and planned to annihilate Hogsmeade, razing it and all its inhabitants to the ground.

The DADA classes practiced formations, using their hoses until they could steer, and aim in their sleep. They all wore gray and black camouflage cloaks and painted their broomsticks black using coal dust to change the bristles and their cheeks to a dull and hard-to-see gray.

At four in the darkening afternoon of December 31st, they walked up the hill silently and, using branches and bushes to hide behind drank Professor Snape’s best warm-up concoctions, got ready to join the war and fight.

Harry had the right flank and Draco the left. Draco added a black beret to cover his fair hair and Harry wore a pair of black rimmed glasses to decrease the shine. In a brief moment of harmony, Hermione and Pansy agreed both boys looked ridiculous, but as they were sporting gray faces and hair pinned ruthlessly back under their hoods, they could hardly throw stones by making a fashion statements.

In the evening gloom, they all felt, rather than heard, the Death Easters accompanied by a score of Dementors; appear over the crest of the hill. The night went still and colder, branches froze and creaked menacingly. Harry felt a desperate urge to summon a Patronus, but he did not dare. Everything hinged on the element of surprise. He looked left, but all he saw were darker blotches on that horizon, rather than any individuals. He wished that he and Draco had figured out some small signal. Instead, he waited knowing his entire generation waited with him and Draco.

His last thought before the night turned into a hellish inferno, was that he needed to pee really, really badly.

Chapter 12 – All’s Fair

It was obvious the Death Eaters, contrary to their usual sack and burn raids, were also trying to be quiet. Perhaps they were not ready to alert Hogsmeade and have Dumbledore and the Hogwart’s staff come after them.

Using curses that made dark fire-smoke, which dissipated in the evening darkness, but not bright fire, they began to clear away the trees, bushes and plants from the side of the hill. They got so close to the student brigade that it was Neville Longbottom, of all people, who sent a wave of Cunfundus from his hose first and engaged the battle. He had some of it gust back in his face by the wind, so he spent most of the battle sitting in a tree, humming a favorite tune.

That soft merry tune was to become legend as wave after wave of students circled, sprayed and retreated. The Death Eaters were taken by surprise and by the time they realized it was students they were fighting, had already lost half their number to the spray or childishly weak curses, which nonetheless rendered many of them in leglockers, or Petrificus Totalus or immobilis. Since the night was now very dark and very windy, they could not see who needed a counter-curse without revealing themselves.

A powerful Death Eater sent a large lumous maxima and illuminated a scene that at first, made no sense. Dozens of Death Eaters, horrible masks turned up like caps, were sitting in trees or swaying beneath the trees and singing. Some of them had conjured steins of lager or whiskey and were offering it to the youngsters with all the good will in the world.

The Death Eater was not amused, but as his light faded, he had no idea how to make things right.

The serious maiming curses and killing curses happened on the outer fringes of the fray. There, Harry did see Draco clearly, the cap fell off and the magical energy caused his gilt hair to stand on end with static. He lips were pulled back in snarl and he had deep frown lines on his forehead.

He was spraying and then feinting back so none of it would hit him and adding a series of nasty curses with his left hand. He rode the broom with utter ease, using only his thighs to guide it and to hang on.

Harry was busy himself and used a strategy that only a magnificent rider could try. He sent curses and then ducked or twisted out the way, constantly flipping the broom upside down, as he went. When he saw the two teams of enemies were mostly divided, he conjured a patronus. The stag appeared, larger and brighter than ever before and even the Death Eaters paused. Hermione screamed NOW! And the entire group of student warriors let loose with their hoses and the Death Eaters began to fall. The Professors rushed out from ground cover and took the men as POWs conjuring unbreakable ropes that glowed red and yellow against the night. The last of the Dementors fled and quiet reigned except for Neville’s cheery tenor singing about a winter rose.

Chapter 13 – A Bridge Too Far

Dawn brightened the sky as the victorious, but sad and exhausted, company marched up the lane to Hogwarts. They carried the dead, the heroes that had fallen the night before. Seamus, Pansy, and Susan Bones, who would never hear the morning dove coo again, were among the terrible sum of nine youngsters gone. It seemed to Draco and Harry, wearily trudging behind the last stretcher, that the trees themselves were weeping.

No one could doubt that Draco had helped; he was bruised and had scorched blisters on his face and neck. His hands trembled on the broomstick he carried. Harry, in much the same condition, marched silently beside him.

The company, staring morosely at the ground as they marched, failed to see the looming shadow up ahead. So, they were caught by surprise when once again, the air turned frigid and the boughs broke from the trees into the middle of the path.

Harry and Draco mounted their brooms and drew their wands automatically. The rest followed, but they were too slow and a reverberating hiss filled the air, knocking them senseless. Harry and Draco, far above the fray, met each other’s eyes and sent a silent goodbye between them before turning back to see Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy levitating in front of the Hogwart’s main gates.

Voldemort raised a hand and the boys felt themselves tugged from the sky.

“Victory is mine,” Voldemort spat and opened his hand. The boys were horrified to see Dumbledore and McGonagall held by some invisible force, spread-eagle against the sky behind the maniac. Dumbledore was bleeding slowly from his lip and it made a bright scarlet ribbon down the center of his beard.

Around them, the Dementors gathered. “No!” Cried Harry and Voldemort smiled.

“They are so very hungry,” Voldemort, said mockingly, “they did not nearly get their fill last night.”

“What do you want?” Harry asked, desperately hoping Dumbledore would open his eyes and give him some small hope.

Voldemort smiled, “I have everything now,” he answered; negligently leaned over, and spoke to Lucius.

The elder Malfoy smiled, turned and aimed his wand at McGonagall, “Avada Kedavra.” he intoned. The broken old woman twitched once and was still, all the starch in her spine suddenly gone.

Dumbledore moaned.

The Dementors hovered anxiously and Harry felt a buzzing grow in his head, as the screams of all the dead seemed to begin ranting at him. He tried to think of anything else, but the noise grew louder and louder and he knew he was on the verge of fainting ignominiously in the dirt.

“Oh, good show father,” Malfoy spoke in his most spiteful tone. “Killing a helpless old woman in chains, hardly fair wouldn’t you say?”

Lucius bared his teeth, “Don’t speak to me you ungrateful wretch. You are no son of mine!”

“Bravo!” Harry managed to grind out. He clapped and raised an eyebrow at Draco.

Draco grinned. “So ‘Master’,” Malfoy said slyly, “you think you have us?”

Voldemort fingered the key to the main entrance of Hogwarts, which he had on a thick gold chain about his neck, “yes,” Voldemort replied, stretching his arms luxuriously. “I have everything now, Young Malfoy, including ‘your’ obedience should I desire it. He stared at the youngster and said “Imperious.”

This was what Harry was waiting for. They’d spent many hours having Draco practice throwing off an Imperius curse until even Dumbledore’s couldn’t bind him. In the moment it took Voldemort to realize that his curse was not working, Harry threw an Immobilus at Lucius and summoned a Patronus. As soon as the Dementors backed off, Dumbledore opened his eyes, shook his head and dropped, landing softly on the ground directly behind Voldemort.

There was no time for dithering, Dumbledore wrapped his bony hands around Voldemort’s neck and began a long series of curses. Harry and Draco, who had studied casting curses with Hermione, recognized them as ones that sapped the magic from an unwilling victim. They were rarely used, as they required that the caster actually have his hands on the victim and Wizarding duels and battles hardly ever got the two so close together.

“Voldemort screamed, “No!” He tried to loosen Dumbledore’s hands but could not. He tried to apparate and take Dumbledore by surprise but all that happened was a wet splat sort of sound and Voldemort’s wand dropped from his hand.

Draco began to laugh. Harry moved in closer to Voldemort and watched Dumbledore. Voldemort was visibly weakening and Dumbledore looked Harry squarely in the eyes, and said through the blood in his mouth, “Do it.”

Harry raised his wand, his hand was steady, “Despiritus,” he said, ripping what was left of Voldemort’s soul from his body and Voldemort screamed again. “Demaminus Veritas,” Harry said, confidence growing in his voice and tore the faint humanity from Voldemort. Voldemort weakened and only Dumbledore’s hands around his neck kept him aloft. “Avada Kedavra!” Harry said, but softly. The wind hushed, the Dementors flew away and morning sun hid behind a large cloud.

Whatever was left of Voldemort was dead.

Dumbledore let go and the withered body fell to the ground, it came apart and soon was merely gray dirt underfoot and blowing in the wind.

Draco turned to Lucius, cast a levitation spell, and signaling for the body of his father to follow behind him said, “Damn Potter, I’m starved. Do you think the House Elves made breakfast?”

Harry, somewhat weakened himself, sank to his knees, but he looked up at Draco and grinned.

Chapter 14 – Stopping on the Way

The death of Voldemort became a time for celebration in the Wizarding World. A relieved and newly spry Dumbledore officially announced that there was no way for Voldemort to return this time.

The Ministry made much more of Harry Potter being the one to vanquish Voldemort than Dumbledore or the army of students. The Prophet spent very little line space on acknowledging that Voldemort had managed to get so far in his conquests while the Ministry and the Prophet had denied his return. The Quibbler told the whole story and had Colin Creevy’s pictures to go along with their assertions. Many of the student warrior heroes gave interviews, but neither Harry nor Draco added their two cents into the mix and were notably absent from the hoopla.

Harry felt apart from it all, now that it was over. The death toll weighed heavily on his heart and although he knew it had had to be done, he mourned the dead and his part in the Death Eater killings. Dumbledore told him that the magical world was imbalanced and would take time to reassert its normal parameters. Harry felt as if the whole weight of it was on his shoulders.

He was feted wherever he went, so he hid except on rare occasions when his fellow soldiers were also honored. Draco also hid out from most of the fanfare. They met in the library, sat at the same table, but remained mute. Harry knew Draco’s mother had gone to the Ministry and pleaded for mercy on Lucius’ behalf. He knew that Draco had been there, but Draco never explained what went on or how his relationship with his mother fared.

One gray midwinter day, when Harry felt as if the ancient stone walls were going to suffocate him, he went outside and walked around the lake until he was exhausted. He stopped and sat on a rock. Slowly, he ate the apple he had put in his pocket. A few brave birds perched nearby, hoping, Harry was sure, for the pips and the core.

Draco joined him. Harry noticed that the other boy’s hair had grown out. It hung softly about his face, softening the angularity. He sat down beside Harry, and just like in the library, they sat in silence.

Harry leaned into Draco’s shoulder and Draco leaned back. A wall of warmth grew between them and Harry felt his eyes begin to close. Draco adjusted and Harry leaned on the other boy’s chest, mumbled, “Give me a few minutes,” and went to sleep.

He did not hear Draco say, “Take all the time you need, Harry.” And he did not feel when Draco bent his neck and rested his head on Harry’s back.

Hedwig woke them as evening approached. Draco stretched out the kinks in his arms. Harry yawned, grinned shyly at Draco who grinned back and waggled his eyebrows, chuckling; they walked back to the castle in perfect harmony.


Chapter 15 – Return to Reality

Students returned to school and the upper classmen were assigned tutoring sessions to make up for the time those children missed. Hermione was in her element, making charts and graphs galore for everyone to follow.

Ron, rather than be a tutor, became the enforcer and saw to it that tutors and their charges regularly met when they were supposed to. He enjoyed this very much, secretly amused that for someone who had often avoided homework, he was now insisting that others do it. He was given a free hand to chivvy the Slytherins as well. Even though he had seen Draco Malfoy do the right thing, he remained convinced that the boy had some ulterior motive that included harming Harry. Since Ron was unable to let go of the ill will he bore Malfoy, he sincerely believed the other boy was the same and no amount of heroics changed his mind.

In this effort, he had little support. Hermione told him to get over it or simply ignore Malfoy. The other Gryffindor’s were so relieved that Voldemort was gone that they hardly cared about petty school rivalries anymore. The fact that Malfoy never shoved his good deeds in their faces and was mostly absent from the festivities went a long way toward fostering a lack of spite on their part.

Harry wouldn’t hear of any criticism at all and grew short with Ron. Eventually, because Ron really did care deeply for his best friend and saw how tired and dispirited he was, stopped trying to convince him. Nonetheless, he made sure to keep a constant eye on all the Slytherins anyway and alert to gossip of possible treachery.

Things gradually returned to normal, including Professor Snape sniping at all except the Slytherins. He was seen grimacing and shaking his head when Harry and Malfoy chose to work together or walk together. Sixth year exams finally came on a beautiful blustery May Day. Hermione, Harry and even Ron qualified for all of the NEWTS they applied for and Hermione was thrilled that now the war was over, summer sessions on specialized subjects were offered across the country. The boys rolled their eyes at her when she gave them leaflets and wanted to sign them up. Harry went so far as to thrust the papers back in her hands and say no, sharply.

The trip to Hogsmeade to board the train home was celebrated with a street fair on the road. Harry and Draco walked the way together and clasped arms in what was more than a handshake but less than an outright hug, before boarding the train with their respective friends and Housemates.

Virtually every parent met the train in London, and there was confetti, balloons and a band played. The Dursley’s were surprised and annoyed. Uncle Vernon carried on a tirade about the mess that was made and the confetti that stuck to his coat and shoes. Dudley took the freely offered bars of chocolate and Aunt Petunia, who lagged behind, got the gist of the celebration and heard Harry’s name mentioned over and over with great commendation and respect. She hardly recognized him when they finally came abreast. The boy had grown a bit taller and filled out; his hair was cut short and was almost tidy. But, what was different was more subtle than mere looks, it was in the set of his shoulders and a seriousness that was not sulkiness that shaped his lips and was present in his smile. She saw that everyone, young and old, beautifully coifed or in patched robes, stopped Harry to shake his hand and pat him on the back.

She heaved a deep sigh before joining him and her family. What little she understood about the Wizarding World and its troubles with a powerfully evil wizard must be over and Harry had lived through it, was even a hero of some sort. As much as she had loathed having to raise the boy and how that loathing was multiplied a hundred fold by the demands Dumbledore had made upon her, she had never desired to see the boy dead. She fortified herself with the knowledge that when his time was up with them this summer, he had friends to see after him and welcome him elsewhere. She rather thought she would make sure he knew not to contact Dudley after she and Vernon passed on. She wanted to make sure that Lily’s influence on her family would finally end.

Harry greeted them quietly with that new seriousness. He politely asked them to wait a minute and went back into the crowd until he found a fair boy standing near a beautifully dressed blonde woman in a mink wrap. Petunia saw the woman sniff and turn her back on Harry, but the boy grinned and pumped Harry’s hand. The boys bent toward each other and their foreheads bumped. She saw them smile and say goodbye. A moment later, Harry and his trolley of gear were ready to go and he led the way out of the station and into the real world.

Chapter 16 – And Then There Were None

Harry counted his days at the Dursley’s with care. He did the chores they asked, stayed out if their way otherwise and, having converted some of his gold to Muggle money in Hogsmeade, regularly went to the small Asian market and Take-Away kiosk at the end of Privet drive and across the main road for egg rolls and spicy noodles.

Hermione wrote him long letters full of arcane notes on Rune Studies and Ron sent him short, greasy notes about what a pain in the arse and no fun at all it was to work for the twins and stock shelves. Dumbledore wrote him about magical balance and looking forward and Lupin wrote him about finding Sirius’s and his parent’s love and pride in his heart.

From Draco he received one letter, delivered through the Royal Mail. It was in a stiff cream envelope and written in block print on high grain parchment. Vernon did not even try to keep this one away from him. Vernon lived in hope that someone would invite Harry to go away sooner than his seventeenth birthday and he could finally say good riddance!

Hedwig was kept busy answering Harry’s post, she seemed to have caught Harry’s new demeanor and simply raised her beak as she flew right by any Dursley that happened to be in her way outside.

The Dursley’s were in a fever of curiosity as to why Harry visited Mrs. Figg so often. They always thought he disliked her intensely and that is why they used her to baby-sit him. However, he went there with good will and a smile on his face and came back smelling faintly of cat and Chinese food.

Petunia went so far as to tell Mrs. Figg not to feed Harry because he got as much as he needed at home. She was very surprised when the old woman sniffed and worked her mouth as if holding back on a lot to say, before shuffling off in her frumpy old slippers.

As the end of July approached, Petunia cornered Harry one day and asked him about his plans. “Harry,” she said, “how much longer are you staying?”

Harry, snapping the ends off the beans, looked up at her from under his fringe, which had grown back overnight once he was back at Number 4 Privet Drive. “I am going to the home of a friend August 1st.”

“And just how are you leaving,” Petunia asked sharply, “Vernon has no time to waste carting you around town.”

“I have arranged for a car,” Harry replied coolly. “You won’t have to pay a cent. And,” he said slowly, “I’m taking everything that is mine and I won’t be coming back.”

Petunia nodded once. “Be sure you take nothing of Dudley’s, I know you’ve had your eye on his things for years.”

Harry snorted, finished the beans and left the kitchen.

Petunia sighed and looked out the kitchen window. Long ago, she had watched out another window, refusing to say goodbye, as her sister, laughing in the arms of her young husband, waltzed down the front walk and out of her life forever. She had begrudged Harry when he was only a small bulge in Lily’s otherwise trim waist and she resented him now.

She washed her hands in too hot water and added the beans to the pot.

Chapter 17 – Getting to Know You

In due time, the car service came for Harry. Petunia wouldn’t allow the driver inside to help Harry carry down his things, so he clumped and banged his trunk and several boxes of stuff downstairs himself. Vernon came home, just to make sure Harry was really leaving and stayed upstairs keeping an eye on Dudley’s stuff.

“Just so you know,” Harry said, a bit out of breath after his last load, “I can use magic now.” The Dursleys shushed him, afraid the driver would overhear, but the man was busy with his car. Harry, who had intended to make a vitriolic goodbye speech, sighed. There was really no use, he doubted he would feel better afterwards and the Dursleys would simply feel even more entitled to label him an ingrate. Instead, he closed the front door and drew his wand. The Dursleys cowered. He went to the House Décor Magazine Petunia had been sighing over and opened it to the page with the elegant, tasteful living room set. He looked at it carefully and then transfigured each piece of the stolid and boring living room into the items in the picture. He put in everything, from knick-knack to lampshades. He added a huge flower arrangement to the dining room table, bowed and left. This made him feel good, because for once, the Dursleys were simply shocked into silence and long after he was gone, they would have to live with his handiwork. “Let them explain that,” he thought, smiled at the driver and got in the car. He did not turn around and look back as they left Privet Drive.

The apartment block was as close to the north end of Diagon Alley as it was possible to live and not be on the Muggle side. Draco opened the door; while a House Elf stood at his knees, obviously upset that the Master was doing such a lowly chore. While Harry and Draco shook hands, the Elf snapped his fingers and levitated Harry’s belongings, bringing them inside and sending them through an opened door into a large bed-sitting room.

“This is Robbie,” Draco said, introducing the Elf. He has refused clothes, but Tress, the head elf at home, convinced him to at least wear something besides his old dishtowel. Harry grinned at Robbie, who on closer inspection, was wrapped in an ensemble in a variety of bright yellows.

The Elf bowed to Harry, expressing his honor to be able to meet him at last. Harry said, “Call me Harry, please. It’s just us here and no need for formality.”

“Yes, Harry Potter, sir,” Robbie said and walked backwards into the kitchen.

Harry sighed and Draco let out a shout of laughter, “Good luck with that,” he said, chuckling. He was trained by Tress who was instructed by my father.”

Harry grimaced. Draco gave him a knowing look. “Want to see your digs?” He asked.

“Sure,” said Harry as Draco led the way to the opened door. The room was large and sunny, had a bed like at Hogwarts, only made out of some light wood and the hangings were a pale blue with a darker blue stripe. The wallpaper kept the theme of juxtaposed blues and white. There was a desk, bookshelves, two comfy chairs and a small table. A large closet stood open and a bathroom door was also open. Harry sighed gleefully. It was all his.

“It’s not grand or anything,” said Draco, “but you can do what you want to make it your own. My room is next door.” He waved his hand to the right and Harry nodded.

Harry sat on the bed. “What happened with your mother, Draco?”

Draco went to the window, “We agreed to disagree, I guess. She said it was childish of me to have expected my father to put me first when he had pledged himself to Voldemort before I was born, especially over a game of Quidditch. I tried to make her understand that that was just the final straw. That he only paid attention to me when it served his purposes. She said of course, as if that was right. I asked her, point blank, why she hadn’t tried to mitigate his actions and she was simply surprised. She said that she had also pledged herself to Voldemort and my father and what did I expect.”

Harry, who hadn’t expected to hear anything better, nodded.

“I am of age; I have money from both sets of grandparents and will eventually inherit the Manor. I said I thought it would be better if we lived apart, and she agreed. I am welcome at the manor whenever I chose, of course. Severus came to visit, and he suggested this place, rather than Hogsmeade, because there is only one more year of school and I would probably want to be in London after that anyway.” Draco turned to Harry. “He owns this apartment block and thought it would be safe enough here.”

Harry was surprised, he had never thought of Snape as anything other than a Hogwart’s professor and someone he disliked. “We are paying rent, aren’t we?” He asked. “I don’t want to be indebted to Snape in any way.”

Draco smiled, “When I told him you were going to come live here, he said the same thing, So yes, we are paying rent, and no, he doesn’t have a key.”

Harry smiled back in relief. “You can invite him over whenever you want,” He said, “Just let me know and I will be occupied elsewhere.”

“Fair enough,” Draco said. “You get comfortable, I’ll see about lunch and then we can go out and get our new books and stuff. The Hogwarts letters came this morning.”

Harry heard Hedwig flutter. He agreed and began to open her cage. Draco left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

“This is it, Hedwig. You can come and go as you like and so can I.” Hedwig jumped to the windowsill and hooting in a happy sort of way pushed open the window with her beak and took off into the morning sunshine.

Harry left the window open and began to unpack.

Chapter 18 – A Secret Worth Keeping

Neither Harry nor Draco intended to keep their living arrangement secret. Nevertheless, Harry wrote his letters to Hermione, Ron and Lupin about the wonders of freedom living in a flat, free from the Dursleys and never mentioned he shared that flat with Draco. On the other hand, Draco had few contacts after the war. The Slytherins, who had sat through the war without taking an active part in it, had nevertheless supported a Voldemort victory that did not come. They were desperate to maintain the social order of their world afterwards and Narcissa Malfoy was still a force to be reckoned with, so they and their children avoided open contact with Draco.

The boys did not go around together very often. Draco had been exposed to Diagon alley and the busy Wizarding hub around it since he was born. He also had a lot of real work to do, learning the extent of his father’s holdings and learning how to manage the accounts that were in his name.

Harry, on the other hand, had only stopped in the area briefly each year to get his school supplies and wanted to nose about everywhere. He asked Robbie to help him create a disguise so that he could wander without making a fuss. The Elf studied him from all sides, created an easy glamour, which changed his hair and eye color to a drab brown and rendered the red scar invisible. He taught it to Harry and said that only a very powerful wizard or witch would be able to see through it. Harry went out and enjoyed himself. He ate huge amounts of sweets, bought whatever took his fancy and cheerfully chatted with anyone who came his way. If anyone recognized him, they kept it to themselves.

The freedom from being recognized as Harry Potter, he used the name Gary Green, gave Harry a new perspective about being a wizard. He found that without all the attention, he could laugh more freely and rest more easily. He also found that Gary had a natural ability to flirt with girls and practiced it on every shop girl and pretty girl he met getting ice cream at Fortesque’s.

He and Draco ate dinner together each night and Harry learned other wizards’ table and card games besides Chess and Exploding Snap. He bought a TV from the Muggle side of the street, but just as it was at Hogwarts, magical energy interfered and there was little to see but snow on the set.

They talked of trivial things, neither boy used to being emotionally forthcoming. The friendship grew slowly and naturally and they were both relieved that the intensity and terror of the war was past. Draco had a talent for mimicry that set Harry off in gales of laughter.

One night, they decided to go out and experience Diagon Alley after sunset. Harry kept his glamour on. They ate dinner at a fine restaurant and then wandered into a club that had a floorshow. They sat at a small table and it didn’t take long before they were joined by two very attractive young witches in low cut sparkly robes. Draco smirked, but Harry could tell he was nervous. The witch performer was singing four part harmony all by herself and Harry clapped heartily when the song was over. The girl next to him leaned over, showing Harry very clearly that she had nothing on except the robe. He choked and she laughed, ordering not another round of Butterbeers, but strong mulled cider.

Harry was a bit surprised he wasn’t more excited. He knew that this should be every teenage boy’s fantasy, but he saw it as obvious and rather crude. His interest was caught more by Draco’s high flush than his own libido. When the girl next to Draco put her hand on Draco’s knee, Harry finally felt himself grow warmer. She laughed at the puppeteer on stage and unbuttoned the bottom of Draco’s robe, sliding her hand up his thigh and into his lap. Harry saw Draco jump a bit. He wanted to laugh, but instead was riveted by the girl’s hand and Draco’s responses. When she began to rub Draco’s lap with an up and down motion, Harry’s mouth went dry and he wanted, very suddenly and very badly, to snatch her hand away from Draco and put his own hand there instead.

This thought had Harry jumping to his feet and mumbling out excuses. He laid a large pile of Galleons on the table and took off as quickly as he could. Alone in the street, he took big gulps of the cooler air and tried to calm down. His mind returned to the woman’s ringed hand on Draco’s lap and he started to walk quickly for home. What did this mean, he wondered uncomfortably. He remembered the kiss and how sweet it was, he remembered the teamwork and the anxiety and fear he and Draco shared during the war and he remember the hatred from before that. He tried to convince himself that he just had many feelings for Draco and that was why the other boy’s seduction was so interesting.

By the time he got to the flat, he was cursing himself for overreacting, Draco would be embarrassed by his behavior and think he was a coward for running away from the prostitute. Didn’t Harry want to be a man? Harry thought he could hear Draco asking him that question. They were of age, Draco would argue, and on their own. This was part of being grown up. Harry shook his head and removed the glamour. He went into his room, undressed and headed for the shower. He didn’t expect Draco for hours or maybe until the next day, so he left his door open, knowing Robbie had retired for the evening.

In the shower, Harry looked down at himself, he was not terribly surprised to see he was aroused, he just didn’t know what to make of the reasons for the arousal. When he and Ron had whispered and giggled over piles of the twin’s secret collection of girlie magazines, he had no reason to believe he wasn’t attracted to the mostly undressed posed women. But now, when he really thought about it, it had always been Ron who had taken a picture and retreated to the bathroom, coming back much later, showered and spent.

Harry touched himself and allowed the first inclination to think about being attracted to Draco float through his mind. Other than that brief kiss, ages ago, and the trust Draco had given him, the other boy had shown no such inclinations himself. Harry tried to focus on Cho and the few other girls he had kissed during the past year or two. He thought about their soft bodies pressed against his and… felt nothing. Harry almost cried out, another thing to be weird about, he thought. Was it never going to end? Was he always going to be different from everyone he knew?

He fisted himself brutally, almost hating his own body and its betrayal. He came, without a sense of relief, washed quickly and turned off the shower. He’d forgotten his pajamas on the rush into the shower. He slung the damp towel around his waist and went to get them from beneath his pillow. Still muttering to himself in an angry manner, he failed to see Draco sitting at the small table in his room, a tea service set out in front of him.

“Want a cup of tea, Harry?” Draco asked his head bent over the pot, “Clear up the Butterbeers?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry answered and took his pajamas back to the bathroom and put them on. He tried to smooth his hair and make his eyes look a little less like that of a deer caught in the headlights.

He drank the first cup of hot liquid too fast and broke into a sweat. His hand shook as he reached for a biscuit.

“So what happened at the club?” Draco asked, peering straight at Harry.

“Erm, I wasn’t comfortable.” Harry replied.

“Is that all?” Draco followed up.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Harry asked a question of his own.

Draco smiled wryly, “I wasn’t comfortable either,” he said. “And after you went running out, I thought it was better to see what was up with you.”

“Have you… had you ever done that before?” Harry asked stuttering over his words.

“What?” Draco said, “Been in a club? Encouraged a prostitute to come on to me? Go with one to her room? What exactly are you asking Harry?”

“Any, all of it,” Harry said desperately wishing he had not started this.

“Well then, no. Malfoys, especially young Malfoys do not go to cheap clubs in Diagon Alley that have suggestive puppet acts, if older Malfoys go to such places they probably wear a mask. I am sure if Malfoys use the services of a prostitute it is one that inhabits the fringes of the upper class and has been trained and vetted by the best of society. Neither my father nor my mother ever discussed the sexual etiquette of buying whores, Harry. No doubt father was saving that for a special coming-of-age chat we never got around to having.” Draco could not leave the bitterness entirely out of his voice and Harry winced.

Draco poured himself another cup of tea and slowly dipped a biscuit in the pale liquid. “I was rather interested, you know, in seeing how things turned out. I wonder if she had a price list or a guarantee of some sort. Do you think they say things like that before the real action starts?”

Harry choked, “Are you serious? I have no idea, really,” Harry answered caught somewhere between hysteria and laughter. “You could go back and find out, I’m fine here.”

Draco got up and paced to the window and back, “I want to know about sex, Harry.” He said, “I mean it’s about time and all that. If there hadn’t been a war, I would have been presented this summer as an adult, with a huge party. All the eligible girls would have been there. Everyone in my ‘former’ circle always said that they got laid at their parties. I was hoping to come back for final year with that behind me.”

“Ah,” said Harry, “a social obligation then, keeping up with the In Crowd.”

Draco laughed, restored to a better humor, “Sure, Harry, it wouldn’t do at all to be behind Crabbe and Goyle of all people.”

Harry looked so startled at the idea of Crabbe and Goyle getting some that Draco really burst into loud laughter. Shaking his head, between laughs, he said, “I know, I know, just horrible to even think about, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and I never want to think about it again,” Harry said, succumbing to laughter and elaborately scrubbing at his ears.

Draco yawned, “Aren’t you interested, Harry? I think about it all the time, who it will be with and how I will meet them.” Draco looked into Harry’s flushed face smirked and yawned again. “That’s enough chatter for tonight Harry, I’m off to bed.”

Harry stood up; Draco grabbed him in a hard hug. “I don’t care if I ever go back there Harry. It’s better to come home and talk to you anyway.” He stepped away and out of the room, leaving, if only he knew, a flustered and breathless boy behind him.

Chapter 19 – I Wanna Hold Your Hand

Life continued in the flat as if the embarrassing evening never happened. Harry watched Draco more carefully, both because he had given in to the understanding that he was attracted to the other boy and because Draco called the flat home. Harry had not considered calling the flat home. Hogwarts was home in his heart, but Hogwarts was over in one more year. What was he going to do then? He had no idea where he would go to live, or with whom. As much as he loved and appreciated the Weasley’s, that wasn’t home for more than a week or two. Besides, Ron was bound to move out after graduation anyway.

Harry began to get worried, he had to have a plan or the concerned people in his life would make plans for him and he absolutely did not want that. As the date approached to pack and go back to school, Harry finally asked Draco if he was keeping the flat. Draco was surprised, “Yes of course. I told you my mother and I agreed to live apart, where else would I go?”

Draco watched Harry’s face and saw the uncertainty there, “Harry, I invited you here to stay. I admit I hadn’t thought further than the summer, but you can stay. I want you to stay. You already pay half the rent. We get along don’t we?”

Harry heaved a big sigh, “Yeah, we do. I wanted to make sure, that’s all. I mean, you could go anywhere; you have family relations and other homes. I thought maybe you would go there after we graduate.”

Draco looked out the window, rather than at Harry, “I don’t think they want me in the family anymore. They sided with Lucius, and even if they didn’t believe in the Dark, they believe I should have sided with Lucius. Malfoys have strict rules about family loyalty, Harry. I broke all the rules. I think I will be on my own from now on. Until my mother remarries or dies, all those other properties are hers, and the money. Everything is hers except for the money from my grandparents, which is a great deal, but hardly compares to the actual Malfoy holdings.” Malfoy drew himself up straight, and said, “Enough lollygagging, Harry. Let’s share this place until something else turns up and leave it at that.”

Harry grinned, relieved. “Sounds right to me,” he said and got his trunk out from under his bed.

Robbie appeared immediately. “Don’t you go making a mess, Master Harry,” he said, almost squeaking with indignation. “Robbie is making you ready. I knows everything you need, sir.”

Harry, his hands full of sloppily folded shirts, looked at Robbie and then at Malfoy’s smirking face, “Okay, okay, I give up. I’m sure you’ll do a splendid job of it Robbie.”

Robbie smiled, took the shirts and frowned at them, “You is needing new things, Master Harry.” He said.

Malfoy laughed, “A truer word was never spoken, Robbie. Let’s go shopping Harry; I need a few things too.”

Chapter 20 – A Friend in Need

Harry kept his unintentional secret. He wrote final summer letters to his friends and told them he was keeping the flat. Ron wrote back immediately. He asked, if once they graduated, he could come stay so they could party all night, every night.

He showed the letter to Draco. Draco rolled his eyes, “Sure Harry, invite him when you want, I’ll go to France or maybe Fiji while he’s here. I don’t think the three of us qualify as company.”

Harry laughed; relieved Draco understood his problem regarding Ron’s perpetual dislike and distrust. So, he wrote back, and gave no indication the flat wasn’t his alone.

The school year started with a huge pile of NEWTS review homework. Harry remained unsure what he should choose as a profession. He took a liberal helping of courses, including Potions. Professor Snape gave absolutely no clue that he even knew that Harry lived in a flat he owned and treated him with same spiteful meanness he always had. Harry, knowing how expensive that rent was, took some pleasure in wasting potion ingredients whenever he could. Although he knew Snape did not pay for potion supplies, it gave him a feeling of petty satisfaction anyway.

He and Draco went about as they had done since the war, friendly, but not especially close. They occasionally worked as team in potions or walked together by the lake, but otherwise no one was the wiser about their real friendship. Harry hung with his Gryffindor friends and Draco established a sort of superiority in Slytherin House and ruled by sheer force of will. The Slytherins carped for a few weeks, and then gave in. Draco might have taken the wrong side in the war, but that side had won, and Slytherins admired winning.

Without the threat of Voldemort, the older students, despite their schoolwork and upcoming NEWTS, felt like school was finally a fun place to be. They urged their Heads of House to allow more freedom to socialize and were granted with later curfews on weekends and a common room, not the main hall, was given over for all houses to use.

Harry was not pleased to find out that the secret exits on the Marauder’s map had been sealed off. He certainly had strong enough skills to undo these charms, but he held back out if respect for Dumbledore. Instead, when he went to Hogsmeade, he convinced Madam Rosmerta, who had a soft spot for him, to sell him cases of Butter Beer. If Dumbledore or the other professors knew about it, they never said so. As long as the parties did not include underclassmen or end in brawls, they went on unhindered.

Besides, Draco had found some way of smuggling in Fire Whiskey.

After the first common room party, Harry thought seventh year should be known as SEX year and not NEWTS. He had never imagined some of those shy Hufflepuffs or serious minded Ravenclaws could party-hardy they way they had. Even Neville had come out of his corner and danced, holding a girl, who did not seem to mind, very close.

At the fourth party, some two weeks before the first Quidditch game of the season, Harry let his hair down and found the taste of fire whiskey mixed with pumpkin juice was tolerable and made him feel very warm, very fast. He drank and watched the couples cavort on the dance floor, looked into the corners and saw couples doing a lot more than dancing on the squishy couches and under the blankets. He drank and began to feel ill used. So what if what he wanted was to dance and flirt and make-out with Draco, that wasn’t a crime, at least the wanting to wasn’t a crime. He watched a Ravenclaw boy sitting awfully close to another Ravenclaw and was sure they were holding hands. No one was treating them like pariahs. Harry began to grow angry, he looked up and saw Draco standing negligently by a couch, hands in his pockets and watching the dancers. “Look at me,” he wanted to yell, look at me like you do when we’re at home and I know we’re friends. But Draco merely went on watching the dancers.

Hermione poked Harry in the side, “Harry,” she hissed in an undertone, “You’re sparking magic. Are you drunk?”

Harry scowled at her and beyond her to Ron who, his arm around her, bent towards the conversation.

“You shouldn’t drink, Harry,” Hermione went on despite the scowl. “You’re too powerful to lose control.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, but Ron ignored that and said, “She’s got a point you know. Wouldn’t want to set the room afire now, would you?”

The lack of understanding by Ron touched Harry on the raw and he got to his feet and stalked toward the door. When he got there, Malfoy was waiting for him, “Let’s walk, Harry,” he said.

Harry nodded stiffly and they left together.

The breeze around the lake was cool and sweet. Harry began to calm down and slowed his pace so Draco could keep up.

“Feeling uncomfortable again?” Draco asked.

Harry grunted, his control over his temper remained tenuous.

Draco grabbed Harry’s hand, but instead of pulling him about and confronting him, Draco held on and simply walked beside him.

Harry, surprised, allowed it and they walked half way round the lake before Draco spoke again, “So,” he said softly, “you don’t want to dance? Or you don’t want to dance with who was there?”

Harry twitched, took a deep breath and stopped walking. Draco waved his hand toward one of the benches and they both sat. “Not exactly,” Harry said as if there had been no pause.

“What then,” Draco said in an encouraging tone.

“I… I want to dance and do other things too,” Harry said hesitantly.

“What’s holding you back, Harry? Any of the girls would be thrilled to dance or more with the hero of the war.” Draco said this as an attempt at being humorous, but it fell flat and he muttered, “Sorry.”

“I don’t want to dance with them,” Harry burst out, flushed and went mute.

“What do you…? Ah,” said Draco. “So what Harry, ask whoever you want, the others will laugh a bit and forget it. It’s not as if it never happens, even at Hogwarts.”

Harry sighed and looked away from Draco.

They sat in silence.

Over the night air, they smelled the last of the summer roses from Professor Sprout’s greenhouse gardens and heard the hooting of the owls out for the evening hunt.

Hesitantly, Draco put his hand back in Harry’s hand. Harry gasped.

“Is this what you want Harry?” Draco asked in a whisper.

Harry held on and nodded.

Draco laughed a bit nervously under his breath, “Good thing this isn’t our first kiss then,” he said, leaning in. “Or it could be awkward.”

Harry giggled for just a moment then shivered and pressed his lips against Draco’s lips. When the kiss ended, Harry said, “Yeah, this is what I wanted.”

After a moment and another kiss, Draco said simply, “Me too.”

Chapter 21 – Quidditch Redux

Slytherin and Gryffindor met for the third game of the season. Having avoided the spotlight after the war, both Harry and Draco were prime targets for the ever-hungry press. Even Dumbledore could not keep out the overflowing crowd that showed up for the game. Everyone who was related to either a Hogwart’s student or
a friend of a student’s family came to the game. Flashes from Wizarding cameras were blinding even in the daylight. The teams were tied, with two and zero records coming into the match. The winner would play Hufflepuff, who were mediocre at best, so this game was really for the House Cup.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy took to the air above the teams and the crowd. The crowd screamed, many more of them than the last time rooting for Malfoy. The boys grinned ferociously at one another and as the spotted the snitch, Draco called out, “You’ll never catch me, Potter!”

Harry answered to himself. “I already have,” and flew at speed after the small golden ball.

They chased at top speed and with great style as the snitch came and went out of sight. The beaters were busy as well, and the score toted up quickly, Gryffindor 10, 20 and then 70 - Slytherin 30, 50 and 80. The crowd was wild.

Harry felt a wild exaltation also, he had played the other two games in a kind of fog, but today everything was clear, bright and filled with noise and color. He saw Draco’s hair catch the sunlight, and Harry laughed. He felt, for the first time in ages, young, strong and hopeful. He did a back flip and saw Draco’s upside down face and knew he was laughing too, feeling the freedom and the joy.

They raced the snitch and the crowd screamed. They almost caught the snitch and the crowd screamed louder. When the score was Gryffindor 130 and Slytherin 160, Harry pivoted and looping back where he had just come from, grabbed for the snitch. He’d been so intent he hadn’t seen Draco also swerve and follow. They grabbed for the ball at the same moment. His hand quickly covered by Draco’s hand, but in his fist was the snitch.

They hung there and the crowd took a huge hushed breath. Draco flung his hand away and Harry held the snitch aloft. All the cameras went off, the crowd jumped and screeched, and the rest of the Gryffindor team engulfed Harry.

Sweaty, happy and on top of the world, Harry emerged from the crush of the crowd and looked around for Draco. The Slytherins were hardly upset, glad the game ended without another terrible nightmare. They weren’t happy about losing, but really, who could carp on a day like this. A day of stolen childhood, stolen from out of the dregs of a war, was a prize all its own.

When he finally caught sight of Draco, his euphoria faded immediately. His mother and the elder Crabbe and Goyle surrounded Draco. He looked grim and pale. “No. no, no,” Harry muttered. “Let him be all right.”

Draco looked up at that moment and seeing Harry fly towards him shook his head. He shrugged and mouthed “later.”

Reluctantly, Harry nodded and flew towards his end of the field and the changing rooms.

Chapter 22– Stand Like a Man

For three days, Harry tried to get Draco to stop and talk to him. Each time he was close, Draco hurried away. To Harry’s eyes, he grew paler and grimmer each day, as if the pall of war was once more upon his shoulders.

At last, fed up with the subterfuge, Harry got out the door after potions first and grabbed Draco as he exited. Draco tried to shake him off, but Harry held on, he whispered harshly, “You’re making a scene, stop it!”

Draco stopped fighting Harry off. He stood tense, rigid, and silent until the other students passed by. “Let me go!” He pulled out of Harry’s grip.

“No!” Harry exclaimed and grabbed Draco’s arm, “Talk to me, Draco. What happened after the game? What did your mother want?”

The starch faded from Draco’s body and, for a moment, he leaned into Harry. “OK, ok,” he muttered. “Come on then.” He led the way to the other end of the corridor, away from the Slytherin dorms. He pushed open a door to a small, dusty room. It was poorly furnished and stacked with old pieces of carpet and tattered drapes. He led Harry to an alcove that was marginally cleaner and had a couch by the far wall. He lit a few of the sconces and sat down. Harry joined him on the couch.

Draco played with the tasseled fringe of an old blue drape. “My mother claims she found a new will, made by my father just weeks before he was arrested. You know the Ministry ruled him as legally dead after the Dementor’s kiss?” Harry nodded. “She said it contained new instructions regarding my inheritance.”

Draco sat silently for a moment and Harry waited.

“My father had one brother. My uncle Halverson Malfoy died when he was only twenty-three, but he left behind a bastard son. My Malfoy grandparents raised him, his name is Jervis, and they sent him to Durmstrang. He’s much older than me, but he kept the faith and fought in France for Voldemort. While he lived, my father never acknowledged him, preferring to claim the entire Malfoy holdings for his son, me. Now, my mother claims the bulk of the estate, after her death, is to go to him and he is to get a large yearly stipend until then as well as access to the Manor.”

Draco turned to Harry, “I wouldn’t care, Harry. I have plenty of money, but the Manor is my home. It, above all, belongs to me.” Draco shook his head sadly, “I don’t know what to do. If I make a legal claim that the will is false, my mother as well as my father’s cronies will claim my father turned against me when I did not fight by his side. Worse than that, it will all play out in public, maybe for years. My mother remains very angry and disappointed in me, and the senior Crabbe and Goyle will make much of it just for spite, before they come to trial and are sentenced themselves.”

Harry was dumbstruck, he had never really considered the ramifications of Draco inheriting a huge estate or that he was still subject to his father’s whims.

“I could probably win. The British Ministry of Magic has jurisdiction over the majority of the estate. But Harry, I don’t want to be on display for years and years while every nasty thing about the Malfoys becomes fodder for the press. My mother knows this, I told her after the war that I just wanted to be left in peace. This is all for spite, no matter how much she would hate being in the limelight, she would do it just for spite.”

Harry chewed on his knuckles. “I so totally understand, Draco. I hate being in the press and on display too. But, your mother should not get away with this. You are the legitimate Malfoy heir and should get your due from the estate.”

Draco rose to his feet and paced back and forth, “I don’t know what to do,” he said.

“Ask Dumbledore or Snape to help?” Harry ventured tentatively.

Draco studied a particularly ugly brown fringe, “I hate having to go to them; I’m not a kid anymore. It’s so frustrating.”

“There’s time yet, Draco. The Ministry won’t do anything in a hurry, especially if it is what your mother and that lot want. Give it a while and think it through. I am sure Dumbledore and Snape as well as many others who know your bravery will help when the time comes.”

Draco let out a long sigh and sat down beside Harry. Harry put his arm around Draco’s shoulders and tapped Draco’s head until he gave in and leaned on Harry. Harry stroked his hair. After a bit, Draco sighed again and turned his face toward Harry. They kissed as they had done at the first, softly, sweetly, but this time they did not gasp and run away. This time they kissed until they gasped from the heat they generated. Harry swung himself into Draco’s lap. When crotch met crotch, both boys cried out and began to rock against each other. “Harry, Harry,” Draco whispered harshly.

“Harder Draco,” Harry hissed back, they rocked until first Draco, then Harry cried out, and all was silent except for the heavy panting, which slowed and calmed, until all could be heard, were the easy rhythmic breaths of two sleeping boys.

Chapter 23 – Blast From the Past

Harry woke; he stared at the sleeping Draco beside him on the musty couch. Things were beginning to happen quickly. Harry, sure that he was in love with Draco, knew instinctively that until Draco’s family troubles were solved, it was wiser not to press Draco to commit in return. Nevertheless, he thought as he chewed on his lip, he didn’t want to wait forever before declaring himself.

Harry had chosen not to capitalize on his celebrity at all. He stayed in the background, sharing the credit equally with everyone else who had fought for the light. Maybe it was time to use some of his collateral and get help for Draco. The other boy was too proud to seek help, and too family conscious to want his troubles spread hither and yon.

Harry knew their youth both helped and hindered them. They were protected from the brunt of the press because they were still behind Hogwart’s Walls, and yet, whenever they were available the press hounded them for personal details. It was a rollercoaster.

He wanted to speak out and be heard about how lax and corrupt the Ministry had been until Voldemort’s terrorist activities were too pronounced to hide anymore. Harry believed the Ministry would do the same again if the threat were big enough. He had opinions he thought were worthy of argument and wanted to use his status to put forth this kind of criticism.

He could think of no way to combine the two agendas. If he criticized the Ministry, they might very well go against Draco in retaliation and he didn’t want that. Maybe Mr. Weasley would help him, despite his son’s hatred for Draco. Surely, Mr. Weasley knew lawyers and politicians at the Ministry who had been free of Lucius Malfoy’s taint.

Harry thought through the remainder of the night, and being underground, did not know when morning came, except that he was stiff and needed a bath and because he was growing more and more hungry.

Just as Draco began to stir, Harry decided to write a long letter to Lupin and ask his advice. Lupin was cool-headed and fair. Most of all he had been directly involved when Draco had helped during the war so he could vouch for him.

Draco woke up leaning on Harry. His first act was to sneeze three times in a row. He grimaced at the mess he was in, covered in dust and lint from the old couch, stiff and smelly pants.

“I’m starved,” said Harry.

“Me too,” Draco replied, “But I need a shower first.”

Harry sighed, “It’s way too far to go all the way to Gryffindor and them back to the main hall. I’m gonna eat first and then shower.”

“Ok, but at least stop in a bathroom and wash your face.” Draco said in a drawl.

Harry grinned. He pressed a smacking kiss on Draco’s forehead, got up, and left, hearing Draco’s laugh as he went.

Harry, who was determined not to lose a moment this morning, took the staircase at a run. He stopped in the boy’s lavatory and then hurried to the dining hall. He was in his seat and serving himself when Ron and Hermione joined him.

“Harry, you’re a mess,” Hermione said, as she reached for the toast. “Did you spend the night in the library?” She asked in a hopeful tone.

Ron laughed, eyeing Harry. “Hope he was up to something more worthwhile than that,” he said slyly.

“Wrong on both counts, I’m afraid,” Harry said guilelessly. “I was exploring and got locked in a dusty room until just a little while ago.”

‘What are you exploring for?” Neville said around a mouthful of eggs, “Another few months and we probably won’t be back for ages and ages.”

“Dunno,” said Harry ducking a bit to scrape some jam onto a piece of toast. “Just curious, I guess.”

“It’s a Hogsmeade Saturday, you know,” Dean Thomas said from the other side of the table. “We’re wasting time!”

Everyone laughed and Harry’s night passed without further comment.

Harry’s hopes to find Draco and walk to town with him came to nothing, so he went on his own about an hour behind Ron and the others. He still enjoyed going to Hogsmeade, never forgetting how he felt when he hadn’t been allowed back in third year. God, he missed Sirius, he missed what Sirius could have meant to him and what they could have done together if he’d lived. Harry shook off the dark thoughts; many had died in the war and along the way to the war. Harry tried to feel that Sirius was another simply another victim, he found that helped a bit.

Harry approached the crowded main square; there was an open-air market or a table sale of some kind blocking the way. When he got near enough to see, he realized these were fine things, household items, decorations and even jewelry. For a moment, he wondered why people were selling their belongings and then he saw the sign, ‘Veterans Consigned Goods Sale, Raise money for St Mungo’s. Name your price.”

He wandered among the stalls. The day was warm and sunny and the air smelled of spun sugar, spilled Butterbeers and lemonade. He caught sight of a pale green scarf, it was edged with embroidered flames and in the center was a green and gold dragon. He had to have it. He pushed his way through the throng, grabbed the scarf, finding it cool and silky in his hand, and made his way to the person taking the money.

“Fifteen galleons,” The stall minder said, putting out her hand. As he paid, Harry looked over her shoulder and saw a recognizable back of someone he thought he never had to see again. Professor Umbridge was at the other stall. Harry shivered and paid quickly. Backing out of the crowd, he went looking for his friends or Draco.

His earlier painful thoughts about Sirius and then to see her made his hate burst into his stomach. He felt sick.

“Watch out Harry!” Hagrid cried in loud alarm.

Harry came to a stop. “What?” He said in a surly tone.

“Yer sparking like mad, Harry,” Hagrid said and laid a huge hand on his should. “What’s got ye goin’ this fine morning?”

Harry flushed. He didn’t know why his magic was out of sync these days. It was happening excessively often for someone his age and after everything he’d been through.

“She’s here,” Harry said, tossing his head toward Umbridge’s booth.

Hagrid looked where Harry indicated, “Ah,” he said and shook his head. “Ye gotta let go, Harry. Yer carrying so much weight and you’ll sink like a stone.”

Harry stared into the sunlit sky. He didn’t want to let go, he wanted justice and revenge for all of those who’d hurt him, who’d doubted him. He crushed the silk in his hand. “Not yet, Hagrid,” He growled, “Not yet.”

Hagrid patted his shoulder. “Alright, Harry, alright. Take a deep breath, there’s a good man.”

Harry smiled grimly. When would the war be over for him? When would he be able to get passed it and move on?

Just then, he caught a glimpse of a pale, shiny head. He let out a deep breath, which pleased Hagrid enough to let go.

“I’m okay, Hagrid,” Harry said, forcing a smile on his lips.

“Yer sure?” Hagrid asked doubtfully.

“Yeah,” said Harry and smoothed the scarf between his fingers. “Yeah.”

Chapter 24 – Hither and Yon

Harry wrote to Remus Lupin. He held back only about the kisses. Otherwise, he told him how he and Draco became friends, and how he wanted to help his friend. He wrote about his magic being wonky, that it worried him. He wrote about seeing Umbridge. It was a long letter.

Lupin wrote back immediately. He told Harry it could take a long time to get over the war and expecting to feel better after just a few months was unreasonable. He said Harry’s iffy control of his magic was part of this. He said grief and guilt were sticky feelings that settled in one’s gut and took a lot of work to dislodge. About Draco and his mess, Lupin was more cautious but he was also more upbeat. Draco had been important during the war. The Ministry was not going to allow a Death Eater, albeit a French Death Eater outside their jurisdiction, to benefit. The last thing they wanted was another dark-leaning Malfoy, legitimate or not to take up residence and wield power without a fight. He suggested Malfoy take the problem to Dumbledore.

Harry was relieved. He showed the letter to Draco.

Draco was angry Harry had not told him about his problems and sorrows. “You do not have to take care of me,” Draco said. “We have to take care of each other or it’s not fair to either of us. Don’t shut me out Harry, tell me what is going on with you. I need to know.”

Harry thought about Draco’s insistence on equality. He had never truly felt he balanced well with anyone, even Ron. Ron’s issues with money and Harry’s fame had cropped up too often to be overlooked. He wanted to open up to Draco, but wasn’t sure how. He grabbed Draco’s hand and for a brief moment, hugged it to his chest. Draco smiled and made a tickling gesture with his fingers. Harry laughed, let go and pulled the delicate scarf from under his robe. “This is for you,” Harry said softly.

Draco took the scarf, eyes large and doubtful, But when he shook it out and saw the Dragon he smiled, “A new first in my collection,” he said. “I have a whole room of dragon themed stuff at the Manor. Now, I’ll have a better collection in our flat, starting with this.”

Harry grinned back, relieved that Draco liked his gift, “Then I’ll always know what to find for you as gifts,” he said cheekily.

Draco grinned and tied the scarf around his neck like a messy cravat. “You’ll have to look far and wide for ones I have never seen, so it’s not so easy.”

“I’ll look,” said Harry, suddenly serious. “I’ll look everywhere just as long as you are there to get it.”

Draco smoothed the scarf around his neck, he looked deeply into Harry’s eyes, “I’ll be there, Harry,” he said. “It’s the only place I want to be.”

Harry took a deep breath and spun around in the sunshine, Draco laughed aloud. They spent the rest of the day wandering Hogsmeade together and Harry forgot to hate Umbridge or worry about his future or grieve for Sirius.

Chapter 25 – And So It Goes

The summer between sixth and seventh year went quickly. Harry did not return to Privet Drive. He argued with Dumbledore, but since Voldemort was gone, even he had to agree Harry was safe enough and that reuniting with the Dursley’s was simply not necessary. Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ron all qualified to continue NEWT classes towards a future as Aurous.

Harry visited the Weasley’s for two weeks and when Ron came to the flat, Draco visited his newly discovered French cousin. Harry told Ron the locked door in the flat was to a storeroom and Ron lost all interest in it. Harry no longer felt guilty for keeping his occupancy with Draco a secret from Ron. Until Draco’s rights as the Malfoy heir were settled, he did not want even a stray remark from Ron possibly ruining his chances.

At last, June became July, Ron left, Draco came home and a September date was set at the Ministry to review the Malfoy inheritance. Snape suggested Draco oil the way with a few carefully considered donations to key Ministry programs that were favorites of key Ministry officials.

Draco followed Snape’s advice although Harry said they were bribes. The boys, as part of a summer homework assignment, constructed a port-key. The spells and charms took them weeks to get right, but when they did, it was wonderful. They went to an Italian seaside wizard hotel as soon as Harry turned seventeen. They decided to wait until they were on holiday to celebrate Draco’s June birthday as well as Harry’s.

The Italian nights were warm and scented with lemon and orange blossoms that grew year round in the wizard gardens surrounding the hotel. Draco, who had been to Italy before, urged Harry to choose Muggle restaurants, each more elaborate than the last. They learned the translation charms that gave them enough understanding of Italian to get on well. For the first time, both boys put on weight and went through a growth spurt, which they measured on the doorframe to the balcony, making it a competition like everything else in their lives had been.

Laughter came more easily and was less guarded than ever and Harry felt the weight of the dead lighten as he enjoyed the freedom of no one knowing whom he was.

On what was becoming a rare occurrence, Harry woke shortly before dawn on a hot August day, from a nightmare. Sweaty and distraught, he went to Draco’s room and woke him. Draco quickly suggested a predawn swim. They ran barefoot down the marble steps of the hotel, through the garden, to a secluded pool. The water reflected the dimming stars and the air had the last touch of a cool breeze, already fading as the summer sun began to rise. They tossed their bathrobes aside and dived naked into the pool.

Harry felt the bonds of the nightmare loosen as he swam and it wasn’t long before he began to notice the shadows and dawn-shine on Draco’s shoulders and hair in the gradually growing light. He swam to the other boy and slid a damp hand down Draco’s arm.

Draco, a bit surprised, turned to Harry. Harry leaned in and kissed him. It was a sure kiss, a hungry kiss and Draco did not refuse it or its message, returning the kiss fully.

Feet, flat on the floor of the pool, the cool water lapping about their hips and thighs, the boys closed the distance between them and soon generated their own warmth gently and then not so gently rubbing against each other. The kisses heated as their bodies found a rhythm, which in turn, caused the kisses to become broken with sighs, moans and gasps.

Draco was the first to slide his hand down to cup Harry’s erection, but Harry was not far behind, and together they brought each other over the edge simultaneously. Hugging each other, gasping in relief and laughter, the boys grew tender and smeared damp kisses on each other’s cheeks, foreheads and finally, lips.

They broke apart naturally and swam to the side of the pool, becoming a bit shy only when they looked at each other as they donned their robes and headed back upstairs.

In his shower, Harry put his hand to his chest, surprised that his heart was no longer bursting from his chest. He turned each moment of the morning swim over and over in his mind, knowing that for him, there was no going back to any half-arsed pretence of not wanting Draco body and soul. Draco had certainly been a willing participant, Harry thought. But, he knew the other boy was entrenched in a battle for his inheritance, one that quite possibly, required a wife and children in his future.

Harry shut off the shower. He shook off the excess water like a wet dog, his hair whipping back and forth across his face. He decided to see what Draco would do and take his cues from that about what was going to happen once their vacation was over.

Harry joined him in the suite’s sitting room. He rose to his feet, letting the newspaper fall to the floor. He smiled a bit quizzically at Harry, went to him and kissed his mouth. Harry, as Draco began to step away, grabbed him and kissed him back. In perfect silent harmony, they went downstairs once more, this time to the restaurant to order huge breakfasts.

Chapter - 26 Time is On Our Side

Seventh Year started on an upbeat. Many of the students were still recovering from the war, but the absence of Voldemort and the Death Eaters went a long way to lighten the atmosphere. Only in Slytherin were there closed, sad and angry faces, sharp retorts when asked what was wrong.

When the Daily Prophet ran an article about the Malfoy fortunes, Draco became the center of interest amongst the Slytherin girls as well as many of the more uppity girls in Ravenclaw. His new demeanor held, however. He remained the quietly forceful young man that had emerged after the Quidditch game and during the war the previous year.

NEWT classes were horrendously difficult and required much revising and homework. The common Common Room became the center for serious studying because Madam Prinze ruled the library and she refused to allow any talking. Hermione became the girl to know and she had a coterie of anxious Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who were actually appreciative of her study schedules and group revising sessions, following her around. Ron hung around Hermione as well. When asked, he said it was to keep peace among the arguing study group members, but as his grades improved, he and Hermione were seen more and more often in deep whispered conversations.

Harry, secure in his feeling for Draco, although frustrated by the confines of the school, enjoyed watching Ron and Hermione negotiate a relationship. He saw Ron accept that he must care about grades and homework and Hermione begin to understand the need for downtime and learn how to chill out.

Harry only felt jealous of them occasionally, because they could carry on their blossoming relationship in the open and ignore the gossip. He and Draco hardly ever talked about their relationship and other than some stolen kisses and handholding when they walked around the lake; there was no more heavier lovemaking.

One rainy Saturday, Harry wandered the dungeon until he found the dusty room with the piles of drapes and old furniture. He cleaned the alcove with the couch, brought in several nicer candelabras and cleaned out the fireplace grate, leaving a nicely made wood arrangement for a fire to be lit later. He smuggled in some of Madam Rosmarta’s Butterbeer and several liters of pumpkin juice and stored them on the ledge of the single, narrow window, he had discovered, that had been too dirty to let in light before he cleaned. Harry figured the drinks would stay chilled on the windowsill.

He wanted to surprise Draco and get them alone together in a safe place to be more intimate. He wanted a place where maybe he could convince Draco to share his news about the battle with his mother over the inheritance. The date for the Ministry review was approaching rapidly.

The weekend before the court action, he finally got Draco to come with him to the room.

Draco stood and looked around, a small smile on his face, “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble, haven’t you?”

Harry glanced around, he really had transformed the place, it was dim, but clean and comfortable and the couch looked very inviting. He laughed, “Nothing but the best.” He said, with a small bow, and Draco’s smile widened.

Harry wanted to have time for the growing intimacies that had begun in the summer. He felt it was important and wanted them to grow into lovers together. Harry had a great fear that Draco would be whisked away by the concerns of his inheritance, and get his experiences elsewhere, maybe fall into love elsewhere with someone else.

Surely, Draco would want to continue their explorations too, Harry thought although he wasn’t entirely sure. The ways of the elite pureblood aristocracy were a mystery to him except for their prejudices.

Draco seemed impressed by the room and sat down on the couch with ease. Harry hurried over and poured him a glass of pumpkin juice. “All the amenities I see,” Draco said in a cheerful voice.

Harry relaxed; Draco wasn’t making fun of his efforts.

They talked quietly about nothing important, classes and homework, the idiocy of tests and curfews when they had been soldiers such a short time ago. Draco finished his juice and set the glass on the end table.

Harry reached for his hand, and cradled it between his palms. Draco gave a deep sigh and leaned back against the pillows. “I’ve missed time alone with you,” he said quietly. “Things are in a mess, you know. My cousin is making his claim with the ministry and seems to have correspondence and witnesses to support how much my father held him in esteem, that my father visited him often and was openly approving. My mother is aiding this attempt, bringing in statements from their social set to witness that father could barely stand being in my presence and thought that I was weak and a loser. Professor Snape is trying to counter these charges with evidence that he and father often discussed my success in Potions. Dumbledore is also doing what he can, but since father hated him and tried many times to undermine his headmastership, there is little positive he can say.” Draco took a deep breath shook his head and said no more.

“I have an idea,” Harry said, Draco looked at him from beneath his lashes, his eyes sad and weary.

“What?” Draco murmured and sank further into the pillows.

Harry caught his breath, he wanted to lean over and kiss the other boy with a fierce desire, but he bit into his lip instead. “I think it’s time to bring up the ministry’s bad faith and dangerous foolishness during 5th year. It’s time to accuse them directly and to offer evidence that your father and other Death Eaters bribed officials to look the other way. It’s time for the Daily Prophet to run other front page stories instead of concentrating on just you and your mother’s feud.”

“Harry,” Draco said with a sincerity seldom heard ringing in his voice, “It’s a dangerous plan. If it should come out that we share a flat and are more than casual friends, it could backfire and make us both lose whatever advantage we have. Having you advocate for me is probably not the best thing as you were witness to my father’s disregard.”

Harry laughed a bit ironically, “I was also witness to how much you followed your father’s every opinion and mannerism. How you constantly attempted to ruin my friends and me, how you willingly, happily and with energy, followed Umbridge’s dictums. I can testify that your father and his ideals were the most important part of your life and personality. That only when Lucius showed his true colors by choosing Voldemort over your well being that you went into action and saved me at a great and terrible cost to yourself.”

Harry let out a huge breath and continued, “As long as Fudge is still Minister and Umbridge can still make policy, the ministry is corrupt up to its neck. The people wanted peace and they got it at a terrible price, I do not think they want to live under the rules of a ministry that aided and abetted the enemy, through ignorance, avoidance, or outright corruption. I do not believe they will tolerate it anymore.”

Draco laid his head back on the pillows and drawled, “Such energy Harry, I never thought you were interested in politics.”

Chapter 27 – Tempest in a Teapot

Harry did not allow Draco’s cynicism, Remus’s voice of caution or Dumbledore’s wry expression of concern to stop him. He wrote a long and heated letter to the editor of the Daily Prophet, and granted a follow up interview. He told the whole story of his pain and punishment at the hands of Umbridge and that her edicts almost prevented the students as a whole, from learning Defenses that eventually saved the day. He went on to enumerate the trial that started that year and how Umbridge had admitted to manipulating the Dementors and had never been charged, although Fudge had known for ages. He told how his godfather Sirius Black had died because of the Voldemort’s plot to get the prophesy and used Harry to lure Sirius there and how the Ministry had known for a long time that Sirius was innocent and never bothered to clear his name.

He told Mr. Lovegood at the Quibbler how he felt in more depth, trusting his Quickquill to be more sympathetic and more honest. He enumerated his fears and his sadness, his loneliness and heartache. He told of his escape from Malfoy Manor and detailed the injuries Draco Malfoy had barely survived that were caused by helping Harry escape. Most of all, he told how the ancient and pure decision of the House Elf ritual which clearly showed Draco had come to support the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore.

The public went wild. The scattering of details they had previously heard about these issues had barely scratched the surface of the real attitudes and actions of the Ministry. The calls for Fudge’s resignation came fast and furiously. Umbridge was forced to accompany an Auror squad to the Ministry to face charges.

Best of all, the inside pages of the Prophet’s opinion pages began to wholeheartedly support Draco’s claim to his inheritance and fewer and fewer witches and wizards dared to support Narcissa Malfoy or the hearsay about the illegitimate Malfoy heir.

Draco’s lawyers sent Harry baskets of fruit and fine wine.

Harry shared these treats with Draco in the dusty room.

Chapter 28 – I Gave My Love a Cherry

In March of their 7th year, just a few weeks before pre-NEWTS screening tests, Harry went to the dusty room. Hermione and Ron, who had finally gotten together, had been behaving in a roughly schizophrenic way for weeks as Hermione alternated between romance and NEWTS’ study guilt. They had not noticed Harry’s frequent absences with more than a snappish reminder to study from Hermione and a thumbs-up for scoring with someone or other from Ron.
Harry did not disabuse them of their presumptions of his whereabouts, he merely smiled waved, gave them bunches of grapes, and beautifully polished red apples left over from his gift baskets.

This night, however, started out differently than most. For one thing, Draco was already there and actually studying at a desk he’d found in the back of the room and brought into the cleaner section. The couch, which had been hastily covered with some of the less dusty drapes by Harry, had been redone in green velvet covers and gold satin pillows. In addition, if Harry wasn’t mistaken, widened and elongated so it looked much more like a large day bed than a couch. On the table, there was a large repast of fruits, sweets and baked goods, a large flagon of chilled juice and basket of flowers.

Draco awkwardly leapt to his feet in haste, once Harry entered the room. Harry, surprised by this, dropped his book-bag.

They stood and stared at each other. At first, they giggled and made nervous hand gestures while they laughed to show each other that knew they were being silly. Although they understood each other, it sparked more hilarity. The hilarity abruptly transformed into awkward coughs and throat clearing before fading away entirely, leaving two boys breathing hard, flushed and aware.

Draco made an abbreviated gesture towards the laden table and Harry nodded and smiled. Harry pointed to the couch and Draco rubbed his chest and looked at Harry from beneath his lashes.

“What’s all this?” Harry asked.

“It’s been a year, Harry.” Draco answered. “A year today since the manor and I saved your life.”

“Ah,” said Harry softly, “Finally taking credit for that are you?”

Draco laughed and nodded, “Might as well,” he said, “Since you’ve gone to so much trouble to tell the world all about it.”

“Good,” said Harry, “Then, Mister Malfoy, how can I repay the life debt you earned a year ago?”

Draco stood still as if he were shocked by the question. He paced back and forth a few times as the scene of nearly a year ago went through his mind and he remembered Harry entreating him to answer why he had saved Harry’s life. He knew now why he had done it. He’s been devastated by his father’s lack of faith in him and hurt that his father and later, he learned, his mother, put allegiance to Voldemort ahead of him. Saving Harry had been not a noble act, but a spiteful one, a way to get one over on his father right in Voldemort’s face.

Now, of course, everything was different, and not because Voldemort had been defeated, his father dead and his mother estranged. It was all different because Harry had insisted on becoming part of his life. Had, in fact, forced his way in and refused to leave. He looked around the room. He’d created a love nest, elegant and luxurious, ready for anything. It seemed his heart had led his hands while his mind had been elsewhere.

He stopped pacing and looked directly at Harry, standing there patient and immobile, waiting for his answer. Draco realized he knew every expression on that face. He knew every tic and twitch of body language. He knew that Harry had been waiting a year for his answer, never giving up or losing heart.

His heart beating a mile a minute, Draco answered, “Well, Harry, you can repay me for the rest of our lives. That we spend them together.” He looked down a bit shyly, “If you don’t mind, that is?”

Harry laughed and spun around. He grabbed Draco’s hand. “I don’t mind a bit,” he said. “In fact, I can’t think of anything better.”

They kissed then, at first with relief and a sort of thankfulness that they had made a pledge they’d both been wanting. The kiss turned into kisses and caresses and suddenly, they resented their clothing and shed it amongst the dusty drapes.

If anyone had been watching, although no one was, as they were involved in their own affairs and felt safe behind the ancient walls, it would have looked like a pagan dance choreographed by some mastermind who transformed desire into dance with candlelight on bare skin, on muscles and flesh and lip and pelvis.

Pale skin on green velvet, burnished hair on gold satin, and groans of pleasure abounded in the small dusty room as the scents of chocolate, fruit and joyous lovemaking filled the air.

Chapter 29 The Bell Tolls at Midnight

The Ministry session over the disposition of the Malfoy estate went on for weeks. Even though Narcissa Malfoy was alive and thus the whole thing was moot until she died or remarried, the Ministry was taking action to prevent her from giving the estate away to the French heir. There was no doubt the Ministry was on Draco’s side, but not without its own agenda. The ministry was attempting to attach fees and taxes to the eventual transfer of the estate to Draco. Unlike Muggle laws, Wizarding inheritances were free from taxes and interference by officials.

The outcry from the rest of the Wizarding world was loud in protest and many briefs were filed against the attempt to tax inheritances and that no matter what riches were available in the Malfoy holdings, they were not worth changing a basic tenet of ancient Wizarding custom. Draco missed school every afternoon and he and Harry made a mad dash at studying in the evenings to make time for furthering their intimacies.

Fudge ganged up with Narcissa Malfoy and with what remained of the Death Eater elite not yet imprisoned. He still wielded some power, and tried to influence the Ministry’s deciding body of judges and lawyers.

On May 24th, the final hearing was held. A straw vote showed that the judges were evenly divided. The politics behind the scenes was fierce. Many of the Wizengamot were trying to arrest Crabbe, Goyle and other Death Eaters before the final vote, while other wizards were trying to get evidence admitted that would tarnish Narcissa’s professed loyalty to Lucius and the French heir. In the end, the day before the final deliberations were held, an Owl returned from Malfoy Manor to the Ministry. The note was neatly printed in green ink and signed by the most senior House Elf. Narcissa Malfoy had been found dead that morning in her bedroom. Signs of Dark Curses were found in the room and the House Elf as well as the human staff was sure she had been murdered.

The Aurors and many Ministry personnel, with Draco in tow, went to the Manor with all haste.

Harry, uninvited and unable to leave Hogwarts, went to the small room and paced.

Chapter 30 What’s Done is Done

Draco went to London where an emergency hearing and vote were held over the disposition of the Malfoy estate. Without Narcissa and Fudge’s influence, it all went to Draco Malfoy. Although, only after a thorough Auror search of the Manor for dark objects of value. A small annuity went to the French cousin, it was put in an escrow account at Gringots, and the deal was complete.

Despite the recent distance between mother and son, when Draco returned to Hogwarts he was pale with sadness and quieter than ever.

Draco’s emergence with clear rights to the Malfoy millions made him a prime candidate for 7th year girls with their eyes on a marital golden goose. Besieged, Draco retreated to his room and, as often as possible, to the small dusty room with Harry.

The fall-out over past corruption came to a head and Ministry personnel were interviewed from lower basements to upper attics. Many special projects were revealed that had nothing to do with public welfare and everything to do with Death Eater special interest. Issues of the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler were thicker than ever and the WWN radio was hard pressed to find time for music with all the news. The price of good quality delivery owls went sky-high because of the volume of daily mail. Once again, Harry Potter’s name was everywhere because he made himself available to the press. Sirius Black’s fate and Lucius Malfoy’s interference from years ago were re-hashed in detail. The Quibbler ran sympathetic sidebars of daily articles about Giants, Hagrid in particular, his youthful imprisonment and his treatment during Harry’s 2nd year.

Throughout all the frenzy, only Harry and Draco’s past enmity and the story of Draco saving Harry were reprinted, there was no indication in the press that they were aware the boys shared a flat or a relationship.

The school year ended and the boys decided to go to the London flat. Ron, deeply involved with Hermione and with Fred and George also bringing home girlfriends, Harry was invited, but not with any great insistence, to go to the Weasley’s as usual. Harry calmly refused, saying he wanted to experience Diagon Alley during the summer and they parted at King’s Cross Station with no ill will.

Chapter 31 God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

The boys met at the apartment. Draco, with a huge sigh of relief, happily let Robbie make him comfortable. The House Elf tssked over the shape of Draco’s outer robe sniffed and shook his head over the stale smell of the ministry courtrooms. Hesitantly, Robbie said the staff at the manor would be needing directions.

With a brief frown, Draco waved his hand and said he would get to it later. Robbie answered with a stiff, “Just so, Master Draco,” and went about making them a graduation feast.

Dinner was plentiful and tasted as good as it smelled. Harry and Draco took their time eating and talking, glad to be away from the frenzy of Hogwarts. They shared dessert, a concoction of blood orange slices and lemon flavored whipped cream in a bowl of orange liquor.

Draco was the first to put down his spoon, take a finger full of the heady cream and hold it up for Harry to lick off. Harry giggled and carefully tasted the treat. Seeing Draco smile a sleepy come-hither, Harry grew bolder and sucked the last flavor from his finger. Draco flushed.

Harry rose from the table, took Draco by one hand and the bowl in the other hand, led the way to his room. He spelled the door locked and laid the bowl on his bedside table.

“You told me once, Draco, that you wanted to know about sex, that it was t past time to know,” Harry murmured as he began to disrobe. “Is this the right time?”

Draco chuckled low in his throat and kicked off his shoes and spelled off his socks, “If that’s not what we’ve been practicing these past weeks, I am at a loss or very confused”

“Well,” Harry said, voice muffled as he took off his undershirt, “there’s sex and then there’s sex.”

Draco laid back and watched Harry emerge from beneath his clothes. The other boy was slender and strong, the faintest touch of fuzz on his chest and under his arms. Draco always was surprised at how fair Harry was, expecting such dark hair to follow though with an olive skin tone. But, Harry was as pale beneath his clothes as Draco was. Peaches and cream, Draco thought with a smile, he changed his mind when Harry dropped his pants, that dark red and eager organ was not some middle of the road mild color like peach.

Draco unzipped his pants and Harry, rather than wait, dragged them off along with his underwear. He ran his hands up Draco’s slender thighs and cupped him, penis and balls, squeezing gently and blowing warm air on him.

Draco hissed at the assault and instinctively spread his legs. Harry climbed up on the bed, crouching between them, “Say yes, Draco, please,” he whispered and bent to lick a long swipe up and down Draco’s cock.

For a moment, Draco tensed. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t know this coming. He’d fantasized about it a million times during the past year. It was just that now the moment was at hand, he had a last fleeting thought of what his life had been before Harry and that fateful Quidditch game.

Harry waited; stroking Draco’s ankles soothingly as he also remembered that terrible night and Draco’s injuries. The boy’s beautiful and unscarred body was laid bare before him and it was a feast Harry, before that night, could have never imagined would be offered.

Draco arched his back and opened his legs wider, “Yes, yes,” He rasped out, “anything Harry, anything you want. I’m ready.”

Harry gripped Draco’s ankles and almost ejaculated untouched as he heard Draco say yes. It was almost too much all at once, no matter how long he had been hoping and dreaming for this very thing.

Carefully, Harry used one finger and ran it on the creases where torso met leg, down to the open cleft of Draco’s ass and, barely touching, up his crack to his tight dark pink hole. He felt Draco tremble and gripped his own prick hard to stop himself from coming immediately. They both groaned and Harry saw a fine sheen of sweat break out over Draco’s body and felt the heat where his finger had begun to play gently, rubbing back and forth over the pucker.

Almost without volition, except that of lust, Harry scooped a fingerful of the whipped dessert and spread it, Draco almost twitched off the bed and Harry giggled shakily. “You tasted so sweet the first time we kissed,” He said softly, bent, and licked up the tangy whipped cream.

Draco cried out and grabbed for his own cock. “Harry!” He moaned and began to jerk himself off. Harry growled and knocked his hand away.

“Me,” he said in a menacing voice as magic sparkled the air, “Let me!”

Draco let him. First Harry’s mouth sucking until he exploded and then the press, burn and stretch as his cherry ass let Harry in and finally, the euphoric fucking that jammed and rubbed at his pleasure deep inside until with a strained and barely human sound he came again.

Harry yelled a triumphant cry and let loose, fucking Draco with all his might, the air static and shooting silver and gold sparks that made the candles flicker and the drapes billow as if from a strong gust of wind.

Harry kept rocking until he was more than spent, not wanting to ever separate and be alone again. At length he tired and collapsed.

Draco laughed his low strained laugh and rolled Harry over until he was tucked at his side instead of on top of him. As soon as he got his breath back, he whispered in his most irritating drawl, “That’s it?”

Harry groaned and Draco laughed. They fell asleep in the soft bed, the air crackling around them.

Chapter 32 Time Passing

7th year had been a tumult of exams, love and sex. The boys hardly had time to breathe. Somehow, mostly because the other 7th years were also self-absorbed, Harry and Draco were never found out. Sometimes, Draco thought Professor Snape guessed at what he was up to with Harry, but he could never be sure and wasn’t about to ask. He never stopped worrying though, knowing Harry’s image could be tarnished and his own reputation take another hit and sink under the weight of being Malfoy.

Surprisingly, Harry got a letter from the Dursleys. Vernon had taken a fall, which caused a minor heart attack, and he wrote a vitriolic and confusing letter to Harry somehow blaming him for the wear and tear on his weakened heart. He wanted Harry to magic up a pile of money to take care of Petunia and pay Dudley’s final school fees.

Draco read the letter and told Harry he would never speak to him again if he helped out his godforsaken relatives. He smiled smugly when he found Hermione and Ron felt the same way. Harry reluctantly tore up the letter and sent a Get Well card via the Royal Mail instead.

Summer came and with it a tense waiting period for NEWTS results. Harry and Draco used their portkey often. They went from beach to beach around the globe, learning how to skin dive and surf the Muggle way. Draco’s hair turned to white-gold gilt, Harry left his glamour off, and his green eyes glowed from a brown face.

One evening, after too many pints chased with too many shots of whiskey, they had their first fight. Too drunk to be aware of anything but a satisfied buzz, Draco flirted with a surfer babe who was as blonde and tanned as he was. Harry, returning from the loo, saw the girl put her hand on Draco’s bare knee. His grip on soberness was much less anchored than that girl’s hand; he exploded in a jealous huff and giving the finger to Draco, stormed out of the bar.

Draco caught up before Harry made it halfway back to their hotel. When Harry refused to stop and talk, Draco tackled him and they went over in a sandy heap, rolling back and forth until they were exhausted.

Adding insult to injury, Draco laughed at Harry and called him insecure.

Harry, spitting out sand, “Insecure?” he yelled, “I’m not the one who needs constant attention from anyone who sits nearby. I’m not the one who regrets not fucking half the beach population!”

“Oh,” Draco said carelessly, still drunk and not comprehending the extent of Harry’s distress, “One blonde dolly and you get all upset. I was just being friendly, nothing happened.”

Harry got shakily to his feet, “Friendly, huh? Well you go ahead and have as many ‘friends’ as you want, I don’t care.” He stomped off, raising sand clouds as he went.

“Aw, come on Harry, chill.” Draco called after him as his third attempt to stand landed him on his rear with a hard thump.

Harry didn’t answer. Draco fell into a drunken stupor on the beach.

In the morning, when Draco finally made it to their room, Harry was gone.

Chapter 33 Long Time Passing

The coldness between them lengthened, Harry would not accept Draco’s ‘nothing happened’ and Draco eventually got pissed in return. They lived in the Diagon Alley flat, each going his on way once again.

Robbie was not happy and it showed in burnt dishes and badly ironed robes.

When Draco could not stand it anymore he went to Malfoy Manor, a phalanx of lawyers and estate planners accompanied him. He left Harry a note saying when he came to his senses he would find the wards would always be open to admit him.

September came and with it NEWT grades and assignments. Harry and Draco met for the first time in basic Auror Skills Class at the Ministry. They did not speak.

By Halloween week, Draco knew Harry was seeing a former Beaubaton, half veela girl who was studying med-wizardry. At first, he was heartbroken. Then he realized the girl looked very much like he did. He investigated further and found that she was engaged to a wizard in France and that she and Harry went to pubic places, but were never alone with each other. Even after all this time, he knew Harry must still love him. He realized Harry had a fear of rejection that ran deep and so he began to let go of his own anger and pride.

Mid November, he simply went back to the flat and had Robbie prepare a feast. He personally saw to the flowers and the wines, flooing some of the best from the Manor’s cellars.

When Harry came home, he found the place festive and smelling delicious. He bathed and went to the dining room. Draco was at the table. Harry stood there uncertainly for long minutes then raised his chin and say down.

Draco poured the wine, help up his glass and said, “Absence was hell, Harry. I hated being away from you. Forgive me or not, I’m not leaving again. I missed you terribly.”

“Do you need others?” Harry asked and took a sip of wine to ease his dry throat.

“No, Harry,” Draco answered seriously, the glass shaking ever so minutely in his hand. “I was drunk and silly, I meant no harm. You took me by surprise with your feelings. I never imagined you could believe I was interested in her. I got angry that you doubted me so easily.”

“It wasn’t easy at all,” Harry muttered.

“No,” said Draco, “I guess it wasn’t.”

They ate dinner, subdued but no longer angry. Draco joined Harry in his bed later that night. He came to Harry gently, but not hesitantly, kissing and touching him lightly as if for the first time. Naked, Draco summoned the flagon of body oil and worked it into Harry’s back until every muscle went slack. He prepared Harry, finding the other boy relaxed and ready. He penetrated Harry with a soft cry that Harry echoed. He held on to his control for as long as he could, saying with his body how dear Harry was to him. Harry arched and came with a broken sob, Draco followed him with a prayer on his lips to never be parted again.

Chapter 34 The Uneven Path

They tried, Harry and Draco. They both tried, but there were other bouts of anger and jealousy. After working on new potion experiments with Professor Snape and having a taste of the purebred life with all its comforts, Draco would come back withdrawn and touchy. He would complain about the smallness of the flat and the lonely life they led while others were out and about in the social whirl that was raging since the end of the war. Harry would suggest a few weeks at the Manor, but that only depressed Malfoy more. He would go and wander the halls and parlors, seeing in his mind the splendid galas and dinners from before.

Harry, observing these moods would always feel that Draco was on the cusp of leaving him to go after a life more suited to his upbringing.

Harry, coming back from a weekend with his Gryffindor pals would moon about and Draco believed it was because they had begun to have families and that what Harry really wanted was that kind of life and love. Draco would suggest Harry give lessons in DADA and become mentor to the scores of boys who held him in esteem. Harry would shrug his shoulders and reply bitterly that they learned what they needed at school and he was no role model. Sometimes, Harry simply went to bed for days at a time, drowning in thoughts and memories of the dead and the war.

Sometimes they simply had to part for a few weeks or months until they returned sheepish and more in love than before, having missed the other. Through all this, the world only saw the young men appear and disappear from society. Since they were both famous and known for being a bit odd, no one connected them to each other. In both cases, friends worried why they did not settle down or even date someone more than a few times.

They worked out of the ministry. Each assigned to a different unit. Draco was a code/spell breaker and Harry split his work between hunting up the dregs of the remaining Death Eaters and collecting Wizarding Histories to add to the verification of the Wizard Lineage Project. He, Hermione and several others were out to prove, once and for all, that Muggle Born and Half Blood magical humans were equal to Pure Bloods in terms of magical ability and power.

Thus, without overt effort, their secret remained under wraps.

They had no one to tell them that they were going through growing pains and relationship development, which their backgrounds and lives had hardly prepared them for in terms of intimacy and trust. Without adult counsel, they were never told their troubles could be because of their youth and they did not think of it themselves.

So, Draco attended the occasional society party and danced with the richest and loveliest pure blood beauties and Harry was just about every Gryffindor’s default babysitter and, life went on.

Chapter 35 A Kick in the Pants

Time passed and it suddenly seemed to Harry that he was almost twenty-five and all his friends were married and settled. Voldemort and the war were becoming history. He heard that even Dudley Dursley had married.

Harry, using the old Portkey, went back to Italy. He stayed in the same hotel and swam in the same hidden pool. He remembered the start of his life with Draco. He ate dinners in fine restaurants, Muggle and magical. He watched the young families carefully. He allowed his heart to understand that he did indeed long for that kind of life, just as Draco had always said he did. He opened his heart further and made himself confront who and what he was. He loved and desired Draco Malfoy. He had for a long, long time. He was not interested in other lovers and he did not yearn for a heterosexual marriage. But, deeply and sincerely, he wanted a family. He wanted children to love, teach and carry on the name of Potter. He also believed that Draco wanted the same thing and to bring the manor to life once more.

He faced himself in his reflection on the surface of the pool. He wanted it all, Draco, a family and a life in the open.

Harry felt the old rush of determination flood his veins. He had defeated Voldemort and lived. He could do anything! He searched the small shops and alleys of Florence until he found a rare 16th century Roman dragon trinket that he was sure Draco did not have. He bought it and returned home. He was going to surprise Draco and outline a plan to bring them out, perhaps even celebrate a bonding ceremony and someday, adopt children.

Draco, however, was not there and Robbie was worried.

Harry searched his room, went to the manor, and searched there. He made an appointment with Professor Snape and dropped in on Dumbledore. No one had a clue to Draco’s whereabouts. He sent Hedwig and Draco’s owl to find him, they returned with the letters intact and no answers.

Harry took out his old invisibility cloak, successfully disarmed the wards around several former Slytherin domiciles and listened in, as well as searched their dungeons and attics. No Draco.

At last, he rounded up Dobby and took him to France. Dobby knew the way to the French cousin’s residence and helped Harry get inside the chalet.

In the end, looking through a keyhole, Harry was unsurprised to find Draco locked up in a small room, half-starved and angry as hell. He felt all along that the cousin had given up too easily and would not really be a Malfoy if he settled for a tiny bit of the apple and not taken all of it that he could.

Harry made sure there were no eavesdropping spells on the room unlocked the door and entered.

Draco looked up with a scowl that turned to amazement and then happiness. Nevertheless, what he said in an ungrateful way was, “Finally figured it out, Potter? Took you long enough.”

Harry laughed and opened the window, “Ready to go home Draco?” He asked.

Draco took a long look at the door shook his head and joined Harry at the window. “You’ve invented a way to fly without a broomstick?” He asked.

“No,” Harry replied, “use a levitation spell and get to the ground. We have to get out of range of the wards to apparate.

Draco nodded and they left the Malfoy chalet.

It didn’t end there, Harry and Draco talked to Mr. Weasley, and the new minister of magic. The minister, in turn, spoke to the French head of the Wizarding-state and Cousin Malfoy was arrested and sentenced to ten years in the continental equivalent of Azkaban for kidnapping and furtherance of Death Eater activities.

Draco was displeased with the bloodless revenge, but Harry was glad there weren’t more deaths.

To get Draco’s mind off the unpleasant business, he took him to Italy. Harry put forth his plan.

Draco had no hesitation although he worried about Harry’s reputation and acceptance in the Wizarding World as a whole and the Gryffindor’s in particular. He also admitted that from time to time, he had thought of marriage in order to have children. The only problem he had with Harry’s plan was that by adopting children, the actual Malfoy bloodline would run out. He thought that perhaps they could hire someone to have children of their own blood.

Harry, who was more than happy to have Draco come this far, put the discussion and decision about children off for another day and time.

Chapter 36 Into the Light

They returned to England and Draco took Harry to see Malfoy Manor. Harry thought it was a beautiful, if intimidating pile of ancient stone. The formal rooms overwhelmed him with their perfection, and as he had little idea of antiques or art, he could see that he would never really either appreciate or covet them. He was much more interested in Draco’s quarters.

Draco, walking through the vast mansion, realized that while he loved it for its family history and valuable contents, he did not want to actually live in it and maintain it day to day the way his parents had.

He watched Harry finger a fine tapestry and then shrug, letting it drop unheeded. He saw Harry was neither impressed nor envious of the riches around him. This was Draco’s final barrier, without a mate who really wanted the burden and responsibility of maintaining the Manor; it alone was not worthy enough of his undivided attention. He wanted to live a life free from his parent’s example and his ancestor’s hollow pride.

“Let’s go, “Draco said suddenly, causing Harry to nearly drop a fragile crystal bowl.

“Go where?” Harry asked.

“Home,” Draco answered and put out his hand.

“Home?” Harry turned it into a question.

“Yes, home.”

Harry looked closely into Draco’s face, felt the sure strength in Draco’s grip, smiled and said, “I’m ready.” And he was.

The End