Title: Hedge of Thorns / Only Castles Burning (2/2)
Author name: earthquake
Author email: earthquake1906@yahoo.com
Category: Slash
Sub Category: Romance
Keywords: Harry Draco Jane Eyre kink
Rating: NC-17 (PG for part 1)
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF (but since it's AU, not that many)

Summary: A sensitive young tutor. A gloomy manor. H/D slash in the alternate universe of Charlotte Brontė's Jane Eyre. This longer and more torturous version has twice the Tragic Secrets^TM of the original.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Profoundest apologies/gratitude to Charlotte Brontė, whom I revere as a goddess, for the borrowings from Jane Eyre, and to my favourite H/D writers whose more original work I have (unintentionally, 'cause I've been rereading it) echoed in places without meaning any disrespect. I've also borrowed one sentence from Hal Holbrook's monologue "Mark Twain Tonight" and two sentences from Virginia Woolf's final letter to her husband Leonard. The title of Part II is from the song "Don't Let It Bring You Down" on Annie Lennox's Medusa.

Author Notes: Profound gratitude to Verdant for beta-reading the new section, Only Castles Burning; her discernment saved me from many lapses of taste, and should not be blamed for the many lapses and shortcomings that remain! Additional profound gratitude to Rhysenn for valuable and encouraging suggestions.

This is a AU (alternate universe, not at all canonical) fic. In this universe, Harry isn't famous. Voldemort killed Harry's parents, along with a lot of other witches and wizards, before he was eventually defeated during Harry's second year at Hogwarts. Now Harry's an orphan, impoverished, a lot like...Jane Eyre, I hope. I'm following the emotional arc of Brontė's story, which means that Harry and his new employer have have never met (in this case 'cause, uh, Rochester went to Durmstrang).

A shorter, "light, pleasant" version of this fic (quoting Olympia's kind Niffle) is available at FictionAlleyPark's Astronomy Tower. Some reviewers thought that fic's ending was rushed, and I agreed with them. If you've read that version: Part I, Hedge of Thorns, has minor improvements, and Part II, Only Castles Burning, will be new to you. I haven't given up on someday making this fic much better, so please leave comments here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Only Castles Burning

Something inside Harry snapped. "No," he said quietly. "If I can't even see you, I'll die."

"Potter?" Draco had a curious light in his eyes, but Harry paid no attention. His heart had begun speaking at last, and he was no longer able to control himself.

"I may be poor, and a nobody, like Pansy says, but I love you. She doesn't. And you don't love her, so your marriage will be a sham. Marry her if you have to, but just...don't send me away."

Harry had begun to pace back and forth, stopping to look fiercely into Draco's blazing eyes. "And don't send away the boys. Whatever is going on--your mysterious illnesses that nobody will talk about--or settling in the dragons--or cleaning all the damned Dark artifacts out of this awful house of yours--let us help." Harry tore off his robes and stood trembling in his old t-shirt and his ripped jeans. "Maybe I'm not as intelligent as a dragon, but I'm strong, and I love you more than my own life. Whatever you need, I'll do it. Just don't think you can send me to Romania, because I'm not going. I'm not leaving you. I belong here. I belong to you." Harry was breathing quickly, shocked at his own daring, but also relieved that his heart had spoken at last.

Slowly Draco stood up. The light in his eyes was now even stronger. He walked deliberately over to Harry, who realized that he and Draco were breathing in rhythm, the same slow, sobbing, ragged breaths. Draco put out his hand and Harry saw that it was trembling.

"I've wanted..." Draco murmured. "I've been wanting you to say exactly that. Ever since the day we met." The mocking look was gone from his eyes, replaced by an earnest, troubled gaze Harry had never seen before.

"You have?" Harry was stunned. Gently he took the hand Draco held out. He lifted it and softly kissed its open palm, feeling hard angular bones under sleek skin, tasting and smelling Draco's own scent, spicy and complex as Draco himself. Almost not daring to believe this was real, Harry opened his mouth wider to taste Draco more fully, marveling at the loving look in Draco's eyes and the way it added even more beauty to his face. For a long moment the two men stood quietly, still just breathing together.

Finally Draco broke the silence, very softly. "May I call you...Harry?" Harry nodded in a daze, letting Draco's hand fall. "Harry, you must call me Draco." Draco blushed. Harry had never seen that before, either. "Harry, because you work for me, I had to wait for you to speak first. Now I can tell you...that I also love you. I have wanted to tell you since the first night you played for me."

"Don't mock me," Harry said, feeling once again the stabbing pain of the agony he'd recently endured. "What about Pansy?"

"A sham. As you guessed. I called it off." Draco sighed and moved his hands to Harry's arms. "Can you forgive me?"

Harry felt a wave of pleasure surge through his body. The man who has become my whole world, wants me to want him. His words speak of love...and his face...says the same. If a person could die of ecstasy, Harry knew he would be in mortal danger. He's actually holding me...I truly do belong to him, he thought to himself, as all his nerve endings sang.

"Harry, can you forgive me?" Draco asked again.

"Why?" Draco is saying my name again. My name.

Gently Draco drew Harry down onto the bench beneath the twining red and white roses. He dropped Harry's hands and looked down at his own. "The sham engagement," he said. "The house party. It was all designed to make you jealous."

"It was?" Now Harry felt bewildered.

"You're so kind and...loving...to everyone. You treated me just like you treat Vittorio and Angelo, and I couldn't bear it. I wanted to find out if I could make you as insane about me as I am about you. "

Harry looked at Draco, blushing helplessly. "So you knew it was agony, watching you two together. Playing our concerto for you and her!"

"But it finally worked," Draco said with a wicked grin. "You're so shy. I thought you were never going to lose control."

"You're my employer," said Harry fiercely. "And I was mad for you before the stupid house party. All you would have had to do, to get me to say something, Draco, was to fire me, like you just did." He sighed and looked at his hands. "I have proof...I'll show you the pictures I've painted of you, night after night...I've been out of my mind." He lifted his strong hands and put them around Draco's head, caressing the softly shining hair, running his fingers along the sculptured lines of Draco's cheekbones and jaw. I've wanted to do this for so long.

With a sudden impatient movement Draco stood up. Harry's hands fell away and he also stood up, in growing amazement, as Draco began pacing back and forth, suppressed violence in every stride. Where is the Draco Malfoy who's always so cool and controlled? This man is like...another person altogether. Is he angry with me, or with himself? Harry was about to speak when Draco turned on his heel and faced him, his face a stern, impassive mask.

"Harry." In contrast to his face, Draco's voice was soft and passionate.

"Yes?"

"You said, I belong to you. I heard those words quite clearly."

"It's what I feel," Harry said calmly. "It would give me...great pleasure if you felt the same. If we belonged to each other."

"Body and soul," Draco said harshly. "That's what you want?"

"Yes."

Draco closed his eyes, as if the pain of his recent illness had suddenly returned. "There are...risks." He opened his eyes. "You're such an innocent! I'm not. Harry, I'm not a good person. I haven't even been good to you, and you're the man I love."

Harry allowed his senses to swim again. I'll never tire of hearing him say it.

Draco continued, "Whereas, when I hate..." He shook his head. "If you share my life you'll ask questions that I won't be able to answer. What you called my 'illness that no one talks about'? The silence is by my order. And I would ask you to observe it as well."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, once again bewildered.

"You must never ask me about my...illness, and when there are other questions I can't answer, as there will be, you must accept my silence," Draco said. "Trust that I love you, and that I'm sorry I tortured you, and I will never again try to hurt you. But the silence will hurt you on its own. I feel that I already know you so well, well enough to know that you'll want to help. And you won't be able to." For a moment Draco looked insane, standing there in the twilight, looking almost pleadingly at Harry.

"I don't even know what you're talking about," said Harry in a quiet voice.

Draco's mocking look returned. "Exactly my point. You'll never know." He sighed. "And I see other problems ahead. But I want you. I've wanted your body since that first afternoon I saw you in the forest. I've wanted your soul since the first night you played for me, when I saw your innocence shining out of your green eyes. At first I told myself that I only wanted to be close to you because I sensed...in defiance of sanity and reason...that you could heal me. A delusion brought on by lust, I'm sure." Now Draco looked almost annoyed. "And then I fell in love with you, and now I don't care any longer how much it hurts you or me, I just..."

Draco's words, and his manner, were giving Harry shivers. "And I love you, Draco, even though I don't know what you're talking about. You just...what?"

"I'm tired of being noble about this," Draco said harshly. "So I'll wreck your life, as well as mine!"

Moved by the pain he heard in Draco's voice, Harry moved forward. "Shhhh," he said, as if he was truly comforting a child. "It's my choice, too."

Now Draco, too, moved forward. "So be it." Deliberately he drew Harry to himself and crushed Harry's lips with his own.

Hungrily, Harry opened his mouth under Draco's kisses, which were masterful and possessive and intoxicating. At last! Please, harder. Harry moved his body so it touched the other man's from head to toe, and wrapped Draco's shoulders in his strong arms. He knew his arousal must be obvious. I don't care. If he doesn't know already, he'll soon know exactly what he makes me feel. He took the lead, lifting Draco's head in his hands and caressing every inch of his face with his lips. This is so much better than I dreamed it would be. I never want to stop. He buried his head in Draco's neck, smelling and tasting the spicy tang of his skin as Draco's strong hands kneaded the muscles of his shoulders and explored the tears in the back of his jeans, and Harry in turn stroked the aquamarine velvet of Draco's robe. So rich...I have nothing to give him except...

Harry broke away from Draco for a moment, to strip the petals from a red rose and a white. He lifted handfuls of petals, let them fall around Draco's face, and stroked their fragrance across his skin. Draco caught some of the petals and rubbed them gently across Harry's face. His mood had utterly changed; he was smiling radiantly. "So all it took was...me firing you."

Harry smiled back, too happy to speak.

"I'll never let you go," Draco said softly. "I want so, so much more than this. I want all of you."

In answer, Harry kissed him again, gently and solemnly. "Of course," he said. "Now?"

Draco drew Harry back to the bench. "Not now. Not here," he said. "Sit." The two men sat beside each other, Harry's left hand tightly holding Draco's right, smelling the scent of the herb garden and hearing the buzzing of the bees. "Tell me about your other lovers," Draco murmured.

"There have been none," Harry said quietly. "I've always known I would love a man, and hoped that one would love me, but until today..."

"They must have been blind, your schoolmates," Draco said teasingly, ruffling Harry's dark hair. "I have enjoyed both men and women, not many, for Malfoys have high standards...but what I feel for you is so much stronger..."

I don't care who else you've been with, Harry thought, as long as they're people I don't know, so the mental pictures aren't so vivid... "Did you make love to Pansy?" Harry asked quietly.

Draco smiled mischievously. "Never. She was chiefly interested in my money," he said. "I let her think there wasn't as much as she'd hoped, and the parting took care of itself."

"Rather hard on her," Harry said, almost giggling at the idea that he was feeling sorry for Pansy Parkinson.

"Harry, from now on, I will love only you," said Draco. "That I can promise." He frowned. "You must meet my mother."

With a jolt, Harry remembered that the world had more people in it than just himself and Draco, and he felt suddenly shy. "In these ripped jeans?" he asked.

Draco smiled. "You were wearing them at Midsummer, when I saw you for the first time," he murmured. "I'll never forget that day." He stood up, taking Harry's hand decisively. "Come with me."

+++

Harry hadn't been in Narcissa's wing of the house since Midsummer. Again he felt his feet sink in the soft carpet and smelled a faintly medicinal tang. Draco knocked softly on the door to Narcissa's suite, and conferred in a whisper with the day nurse. As the nurse caught sight of Harry, her eyes widened in surprise, but she fell back silently to let the two men enter. They passed through a sumptuous sitting room and into a cavernous bedroom hung with faded sky-blue brocade.

Narcissa Malfoy sat in the far corner of the room, propped up on a divan. Her skin and hair were paler than pale. As her son approached and bent over to take her hand, she smiled faintly. "Draco," she murmured.

"Mother," Draco said warmly. "I rejoice to see you blooming this afternoon."

He must be trying to cheer her up, Harry thought. She looks so tired and sad. I wonder what she's suffering from. Dropping his mother's hand, Draco moved two chairs to face the divan.

"Mother, may I present Harry Potter." Harry looked into Narcissa's sad eyes and nodded politely. She looked so ill, he didn't even think of trying to take her hand. "Harry, my mother, Narcissa Malfoy."

"Most happy," Narcissa murmured. "Sit, both of you."

As the two men sat, the nurse tucked a pillow behind Narcissa's back and adjusted her coverlet. Harry realized this was the meeting Pansy had longed for, in vain. Draco crossed his legs and spoke in a conversational tone.

"This afternoon Harry and I had a free and frank exchange of views. He loves me, and I love him. Now we ask for your blessing."

Narcissa sighed. "Don't take advantage, Draco. If he's working as our tutor, Harry must be...without resources. Your dependent."

Harry leaned forward. "Ma'am, your son has terminated my employment here, or I would not have dared..." His voice trailed off. He wasn't comfortable discussing with Narcissa the caresses he had exchanged with Draco, let alone those he wanted to exchange.

Narcissa acted as if she hadn't heard, fixing Harry with a wide-eyed stare. "It must be your free choice," she said earnestly. She turned to her son with a sigh. "Harry's mother, Lily. Her parents lost their estate...Moor House, I think it was called. Near Whitcross."

Draco took her hand again. "Mother, do not strain yourself," he said gently.

Narcissa overbore him. "Buy it for Harry," she murmured. "Failing that, some other property of equal size. Deed of gift. Irrevocable. It may make all the difference," she said softly. "You'll see."

Harry moved as if to protest, but Draco ignored him. "An excellent idea, mother. I understand, and will do as you suggest."

"But..." Harry said.

"Not now," Draco murmured.

"Not that," Harry whispered back. He leaned forward. "Ma'am, did you know my mother?"

Narcissa sighed. "At Hogwarts. You have her eyes, Lily's green eyes. When I am feeling stronger, perhaps..."

Draco took the hint and stood, and Harry followed his lead. "We must not tire you further," Draco said smoothly. "Today, all we ask is your blessing." It didn't sound like a request.

Narcissa's eyes fixed on her son with painful earnestness. "I know you have considered the risks, Draco. You are now Malfoy of Malfoy Manor, and your wishes...are mine." She leaned back against the divan, almost fainting, and the nurse came forward with a look of concern. Draco and Harry took turns lifting Narcissa's limp hand to their lips in farewell. Harry was not surprised to find it ice cold.

As Draco gently closed the door of the suite, Harry's mind was seething with new questions. Narcissa Malfoy had known his mother! Had she known his father as well? What had made her so ill? What did she mean by 'the risks'? As if he could read all these questions on Harry's face, Draco put his finger to Harry's lips.

"You'll dine with me tonight," Draco said. That didn't sound like a request either. "Tomorrow I must leave Malfoy Manor for some time, and we have much to discuss." He smiled, mischievously. "I can no longer command, but I would ask--if you are willing--would you wear one of the sets of dress robes with green in them? Join me at seven?"

+++

That evening was like heaven for Harry. In the oppressively formal dining room, he barely tasted the sumptuous meal as he drank in the beauty of Draco's face, the way Draco's aquamarine robes set off the beauty of his hair, and the now undisguised look of love in Draco's eyes. Intoxicated with happiness, he didn't protest when Draco told him of his plans to return to the Continent for several months. They agreed that Harry would continue to live and work as the boys' tutor until Draco's return, shortly after Hallowe'en. "By then," Draco said, "I will have completed some arrangements I have put in hand, and we'll live here, openly, as lovers."

"With the boys?" Harry asked.

"Of course, with the boys. Fairfax will hire another tutor, so you and I can travel, but I know you'll still want to teach them a great deal yourself."

"For love," Harry said firmly. Not for a salary.

"Of course, for love. I wouldn't trust their natural history and flying lessons to anyone else." When Draco smiled at him like that it all seemed so simple and obvious.

After supper they walked, arm in arm, to the drawing room. As the scent of jasmine drifted in the open windows, Harry played Neville's Third Piano Concerto with a feeling of triumph and completion. When he finished the concerto, Harry was able to do what he had longed to do since his very first evening in this room: he moved to the sofa and took Draco Malfoy in his arms.

Harry caressed his lover's soft hair, kissed his eyelids and his cheekbones and his lips, and buried his face in Draco's neck. He smells and tastes just like I imagined he would...only better. At first Draco simply endured Harry's kisses with a knowing, faintly amused smile. But soon Draco began to sigh with pleasure under Harry's lips and hands. The look of desire in his half-lidded eyes was unmistakable. And then Draco began to kiss Harry, slowly and languorously, but relentlessly, hypnotically. As if he's claiming me, all over again, with each caress... Harry felt himself falling more and more deeply in love. I can't believe that only this afternoon... Already the time before Harry and Draco had declared their love seemed years away. Suddenly Harry thought of another thing he'd longed to do, and he shook off the enchantments of lust and pulled back.

"Draco," he murmured, kissing Draco's hands. "May I...sketch your face? Right now?"

"Of course," Draco said with a smile. He moved his hand to ring for the footman.

"You'll find I dislike being waited on," Harry said with a shy smile. "I'll fetch everything myself. I'll be right back."

"I adore being waited on," Draco murmured, as he rang the bell anyway.

When Harry returned with his soft pencils and charcoal and his largest tablet of sketching paper, Draco was again smiling mysteriously, and Harry noticed that a large free-standing mirror had been set up beside the fireplace. He glanced inquiringly at Draco. "All in good time," Draco said. "I believe you were going to do some drawing."

"That's right, I was," Harry said with a grin. First he moved a floor lamp so that its light fell flatteringly on Draco as he sprawled at one end of the couch. Not that he needs flattering, but still...I want this to be perfect. He smoothed back Draco's white-blond hair and paused with his fingers at Draco's throat. "May I?" Still looking mischievous, Draco nodded. Carefully Harry unfastened the top clasps of Draco's velvet robe and pulled them apart to reveal the strong column of Draco's throat, and his sharp collarbones. Harry couldn't resist a gasp of delight. I've only ever seen him fully robed, so this is the first time I've seen his throat. I must never forget this moment. As Draco continued to smile, Harry opened the velvet collar as widely as he dared, re-settling its folds on Draco's shoulders. He looks so different like this, Harry thought. Open, vulnerable, and oh so sexy...I still can't believe we're going to be lovers. Except, watching the expression on Draco's face, Harry felt himself beginning to believe it.

He threw himself into drawing, marveling at Draco's changeable moods. The man who had been violently pacing back and forth just a few hours ago now seemed content to recline under Harry's loving gaze, as Harry's fingers moved nimbly over the paper. This is nothing like the lonely drawings I've made in my room. Then I was in despair, drawing from memory. Now...everything's so different...well, there's one thing the same, which is that I'm shockingly aroused. Just the thought of him used to have that effect, and now he's right in front of me, looking at me that way...

All too soon the drawing was as perfect as Harry could make it. "Thank you, Draco," he said. "You can move now, if you want." Like a cat, or a dragon, Draco stretched his shoulders and shrugged his robe back around his throat. "Let's see," he murmured, reaching for the drawing. "It's...beyond good," he said, with a note of surprise in his voice.

"The subject inspires me," said Harry with a smile, gently ruffling Draco's hair and then smoothing it again.

"I was going to ask..." Draco murmured. "Would you do a drawing rather like this, for my mother? I'd like her to have one. But not this one," he said firmly. "I don't know exactly how you did it, but there's a strong suggestion here that the artist wants to ravish me ..."

"Well..." Harry said with a blush.

"Yes, well, it's too private to share," said Draco. "But if you would be willing to do a regular portrait, without the overtones of lust, I'd love one for my mother."

"Consider it done," Harry said, gathering his drawing materials to put them aside.

"Just a moment," Draco said. "I have one more commission for you." He took Harry's drawing hand in his own, and stroked Harry's fingers. "It's a rather unusual situation. The man I love...it feels as if I've known him and wanted him for a lifetime, and yet in many important ways we're barely acquainted. And tomorrow I have to leave him, for almost two months. When I return we'll...possess each other fully." The shudder that ran through Harry's body at these words seemed to find an echo in Draco's hands, and Draco's face looked suddenly grave as he said, "As fully as we can. But it would mean a great deal to me to have a portrait of him, to take with me on my trip." He glanced significantly at the mirror.

Harry couldn't mistake Draco's meaning. "It's not something I've ever done," he said shyly. "I've never wanted a...portrait of myself."

Draco smiled mischievously as he stood up and pulled Harry to his feet. "But now, I want one. Don't deny me." Draco set a hard, plain chair in front of the mirror, and drew Harry towards it, and gently guided Harry's shoulders down until he sat, awkwardly, before the mirror. Harry blushed as he looked at his own face, seeing the way the flickering firelight shone on his hair and his skin and his velvet robes. He lifted his eyes to look at Draco's reflection, as his lover stood behind him, still gripping his shoulders.

"Draco," he began, "this is..."

"Shhh." Draco's voice was soft, caressing, hypnotic. "Let go, and trust me. I'll guide you...I'll set the scene...so you won't even have to think. You'll just feel...and draw." His hands pulled away from Harry's shoulders. "Now, how did you begin? Moving the light, as I recall." Smoothly he moved the floor lamp so it illuminated Harry's face. "Is that better?"

"A little farther left," Harry murmured, taking an interest despite himself. "There. That's perfect."

"Perfect. Yes." Harry could hear Draco purring as his lover once again appeared behind him in the mirror. Harry's shoulders tingled as Draco's hands caressed his shoulders, his hair. "Hair like that, yes. Mmmm." A soft sigh. "Now, remember how you drew me?" A hand on Harry's ear framed his cheek with its strong, slender fingers. "You drew me as if you wanted me, desperately."

Harry blushed again. "I do."

Draco's glinting smile shone in the mirror. "And I want you." His hands closed on Harry's shoulders. "I want you to see yourself as I see you, the man who's driven me insane with wanting to possess him. You're not drawing for yourself, tonight, you're drawing for me." All this time Draco's soft but relentless caresses had continued, and Harry found himself falling under the spell of Draco's words. "Draw him, Harry. Draw the man I love. Draw a picture that will comfort me when I'm far away and aching, longing to see you, longing to touch you as I'm touching you now. Turn me on, as hard as you can. Torment me, even. Do you see how sexy you can be?"

Harry shuddered as he looked in the mirror, looking as if for the first time at his own skin, gently flushed, his emerald green eyes, and the full curves of his lips. Can I do it? Can I let myself go and draw the picture Draco wants? He sighed deeply. I'm going to try. He blushed again. I want to try. To please him I would try anything. Without looking away from his own face in the mirror, he put out his hands, and felt Draco putting the tablet and the soft pencil into his fingers. As he lifted the tablet he felt Draco's hands return to his shoulders and smooth the velvet fabric that covered them.

"One more thing," Draco murmured. "I know I chose this robe, but suddenly...I find it an encumbrance." Smoothly he walked around and knelt in front of Harry, and unfastened the clasps of Harry's robe all the way down to the waist, and pulled the robe's velvet folds over Harry's shoulders and down, until they lay pooled around Harry's hips. Harry continued to stare at his reflection in the mirror, watching Draco undress him, still in a seeming trance. Draco stood back and thoughtfully pursed his lips at the sight of the white short-sleeved t-shirt that lay tight over Harry's muscled arms and his taut abdomen. "Mmmm. You have such amazing shoulders. Don't move." Draco's left hand groped beneath his robes and reached into his trousers pocket, emerging with a glossy black cylinder. Draco released its catch and a slender knife blade sprang out of the cylinder, gleaming a dull metallic blue. Holding the blade facing upwards, he lifted one of Harry's t-shirt sleeves and sliced its thick fabric all the way up to the collar, and then did the same to the other sleeve. This allowed him to drag the t-shirt down and away from Harry's body, leaving him naked from the waist up.

Draco sighed. "Oh, yes." Almost absently he lifted the ruined t-shirt to his nostrils and inhaled its scent. "Yes, Harry. Now. Draw."

As if he was under a spell, Harry shivered and began to obey. Draco moved one of the overstuffed armchairs up to sit at Harry's right side, so he could gaze at Harry and watch the progress of the drawing. For a long time he watched silently as Harry outlined his own silhouette in soft pencil. Then when Harry wordlessly, absently dropped his pencil and held out his hand, Draco stood up and fetched the stick of charcoal so Harry wouldn't have to move. As Harry began to brush the charcoal across the paper, Draco began to offer advice in a soft, hypnotic murmur.

"Let yourself be sexy, Harry," he said. "Imagine the charcoal is my gaze, smudging the outlines of your beautiful body." At this Harry blushed into the mirror, and his hand trembled for a moment. "Deep breath," Draco ordered almost harshly. "Don't forget to capture the way your muscles are so taut, and your chest..." He leaned forward to brush Harry's right nipple with his hand, circling its tip lightly with his fingers. "I know you're hard, Harry; you've been hard for hours now. It's good that you respond to me. Don't hide it."

Harry blushed. "It's been happening for months," he murmured. "Whenever you would so much as look at me. And now, feeling your hands and your lips, it's even worse."

"You mean, it's better," Draco said decisively. "Glory in it, and in how badly I want you. How we want each other." With his hands still on Harry's chest, Draco leaned over to run his tongue gently along Harry's collarbone, producing shivers all along Harry's spine.

Over Draco's shining head, Harry again looked carefully at his own face in the mirror. I look different. Happy. Radiant, even. It's all because of Draco, of course, but if I could show him how much I want him... He took another deep breath and then returned to his task. Soon he lost himself within the spells cast by Draco's murmured endearments and possessive caresses, and had to work to focus his attention on the tip of the charcoal where it softly rubbed against the paper.

Finally, with a sigh, Harry bowed his head. His eyes were wet as, without a word, he handed his tablet to Draco. Draco took it and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, yes," he purred. "This is wonderful. It's the man I want, oh yes. The Harry I love so much." He put the sketch aside and moved out of the chair to kneel in front of Harry, to clasp him in his arms. Harry fell forward, trembling. "Mmm," Draco murmured, stroking Harry's skin with his smooth, strong hands. "You did just as I asked. Was it so frightening, to let me see you? To feel sexy?" Harry nodded.

"It was...new," Harry said. "Strange."

Draco smiled. "We're going to discover a lot of new sensations together. I have so much more I want to teach you. But not tonight...tonight you've been so good..." Draco's lips met Harry's in a kiss that left Harry dizzy, yet deeply refreshed.

It was a long time before Harry pulled back. "It's not a good idea for me to stand up," he said with a rueful smile. "You've guessed why. But if you'd get me a glass of water...without ringing for it, Draco, please...I'd like to do one more drawing."

Wondering, Draco walked to the sideboard, where a crystal water carafe and a tray of glasses always stood. He filled a glass with water and gave it to Harry, who drained it thirstily. "Now," Harry said. "One more, in charcoal alone. If you'd stand behind me...yes, just like that...with your hands on my shoulders. That's perfect."

As Draco stood behind Harry, with his hands on Harry's bare shoulders, Harry sketched the two of them, in silence, working quickly. Draco's shining hair and glowing eyes. The collar of his robe, open just a sliver. His long fingers clasping Harry's shoulder muscles. More comfortable now with sketching himself, Harry drew his own face, his eyes dark with desire, his throat and his muscular arms and the hard planes of his chest. And finally, at the bottom of the drawing, he put in a few slashing lines to suggest the presence of the tablet that held the drawing itself. Soon he was done, and showing the final portrait to Draco.

"I belong to you," Harry said softly. "I'll look at this picture while you're gone, and think of this night." As Harry spoke both men turned to look toward the open windows at the end of the room. Birds were twittering in the trees outside and a grey light was in the sky.

Draco whispered, "It's dawn."

+++

Dear Hermione,

I'm sad that you found my last letter 'worrisome.' There's a simple explanation for the tone: when I wrote it I was feeling wretched.

It's true that I've had a more interesting summer than I expected, what with my teaching Vittorio to fly, and Draco Malfoy getting his dragon keeping legislation passed, and rafts of annoying house guests. But I was leaving out some of my news.

Please sit down before you read it?

The first piece of news I guess will be welcome (temporarily). I followed your advice and gave notice. As of November first I will no longer be employed as a tutor at Malfoy Manor. (You are sitting down, right?) I'm not going to look for a new job right away, though, because I've received an offer to continue living here, on somewhat different terms. Draco Malfoy and I...

I'm so happy I can't even write it.

Hermione, we've never talked about the fact that I'm attracted to other men. It's something I've always known about myself, and Ron knew, but it didn't seem worth dwelling on, because there was no one at Hogwarts for me. Maybe you thought it was shyness when I went stag to so many dances, watching you spin in Seamus' loving arms, watching Ron pull his woman of the moment off the dance floor and into a shadowed corner...

But since I've never been able to fool you on any subject whatsoever, I expect it will come as no surprise that I'm gay.

Not only that, Hermione, but I'm in love. I love Draco Malfoy, and he loves me. I was wretched, when I last wrote you, when I didn't believe he loved me back. But he does, and I've never been happier. I've already told him about you. I can't wait for you two to meet.

I've met Draco's mother, too. She knew my mom at Hogwarts! She's been too ill to exchange more than a few words with me, but I'm looking forward to getting to know her better.

I'm not naive. I am quite confident that Draco's father was as bad as you say, if not worse. And Draco has his own mysterious secrets. And socially and financially (and in terms of how handsome he is, oh Hermione, wait until you meet him) he's out of my league, and there's the gay thing. We'll have a lot to work through. But I don't feel the Dark in Draco. I just don't. I am confident that he and I will be able to work things out, whatever happens. I have to believe that. At least I'm going to work harder at this relationship than I've ever worked at anything in my life.

Between now and November the conditions of my employment have been, you could say, relaxed. I ought to be able to get to London at least once in the next two months. And I'm planning a trip to see Ron play in a match. Perhaps I could organize one trip to see you both, but I can manage two if that would suit your schedule better. Write and let me know when would be a good time for you. I can't wait to see you again!

Your friend always,

Harry

Hey Ron,

I've got myself a ticket for your match against the Wimborne Wasps on October 4th, and a hotel room in case the match goes long. After you and your new teammates kick their arses into next year, maybe you and I can have a quiet drink.

My news: I'm in love. And lust. Still a virgin, you're still ahead of me there, but by Christmas I hope I'll have the biggest grin on my face. I'll try to bring him to a match sometime, and until then I'll bring a couple of sketches. A couple of hundred, if you can stand it.

I know you've worried about me finding someone. Ron, he's IT. Be happy for me!

Cons: I used to work for him (until he fired me). He's always moody and mysterious, often demanding and cranky and manipulative. Also rich (beyond belief) and spoiled (although not, based on his reactions to my teasing, beyond repair). Durmstrang graduate. His father was a Dark commander in the last war.

I think that's everything (grin).

Pros: Smart (if he had to go to Durmstrang, at least he was first of his year). Great career: dragon trainer / tamer / researcher. Good at it, I hear, although we'll have to ask Charlie what he knows. Handsome. Sexy. Fancies me. Loves me, he says. And did I mention sexy?

I love him so much I don't care about any of the cons. I just don't.

Actually "rich" is a pro as well as a con. I'm trying to talk him into Cannons season tickets. He's on the Continent now so that'll have to wait until he gets back.

Just hope for my sake that I don't screw this up. And when we get together I promise not to talk about him the whole damn time. That's why I got some of it out of the way now. You're not much of a correspondent! I want all your news, even if I have to come get it in person.

Owl me about the fourth!

Harry

P.S. What are you lifting nowadays?

+++

Harry knew Draco had spoken to Mrs. Fairfax at some length, and in the first days after his departure a blizzard of owls arrived at Malfoy Manor with further instructions. Harry also remembered Fairfax had advised him that when he waited to be spoken to, he seemed more intelligent. So he waited. He admired her iron control in holding off almost an entire week, a week in which Harry and the boys followed their customary schedules...

"Mister Potter. Would you care to join me for tea, this afternoon?"

Her tone was subtly different, Harry decided. There was more respect in it than before, and also a suggestion of clenched teeth. "It'd be a pleasure," he said calmly.

He was careful to be punctual in appearing at the door of Fairfax's sitting room, with neatly brushed hair and a glossy catalogue rolled unobtrusively in his hand.

Miss Poole was the only other guest. As always, her blonde hair was neatly coiled on top of her head, and her robes were crisp and starched, but Harry thought he saw her blue eyes smiling. Fairfax wore her usual black robes and imposing cap of frilly white.

Harry accepted a steaming cup of his favourite green tea, and tried to sit as comfortably as possible in Fairfax's overstuffed, chintz-covered armchairs. There was no small talk; his hostess got right to the point.

"Tomorrow," Fairfax said magisterially, "the builders begin work. They'll be carving out a new suite of rooms, the size of Mrs. Malfoy's own. Bedroom, sitting room, dressing room, and private bath." She frowned. "A large private bath, Mister Malfoy has requested, with both a shower and a Jacuzzi."

Harry was more than a bit stunned, but also thoroughly pleased. Draco said there'd be changes, but he didn't tell me any details. Aloud he said, "This is quick. I mean, you've gotten them to start work so quickly..."

Fairfax's frown was wintry. "I always work quickly. I pride myself on that." She leaned forward and fixed Harry with a cold glance. "But you're quite right, in a larger sense. This is quick, what has occurred between Mister Malfoy and yourself." For a long moment there was silence as Harry returned her gaze firmly, but not belligerently. She sighed. "I have managed the Manor since Lucius Malfoy was a young man. His son bids fair to be the most distinguished Malfoy since the founding of the house. If you cause him unhappiness, you will have me to deal with." She leaned back and, with an air of finality, once again picked up her teacup.

Well! Harry thought. Cards on the table, then. He took a deep breath. "Draco Malfoy's happiness means more to me than my own life," he said calmly, taking a biscuit and putting it on his saucer.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Fairfax said sternly. "I even suppose I'll eventually get used to you calling him 'Draco'. But not in front of the rest of the staff until November first, please, and don't expect me to follow suit." Now she was the one to sigh, as if steeling herself before delivering more shocking news.

"He's purchasing an estate that used to belong to your mother's family, and is signing it over to you. It produces enough income that you'll be modestly independent, although not wealthy. The paperwork will be here within the month."

Harry's mouth opened. "I don't--" he began to say, but Fairfax held up her hand.

"It's an obsession of Mrs. Malfoy's, as I understand it. As she's too ill to be disturbed, if you have questions about this, you must address them to Mister Malfoy." First hint of a smile. "When I first heard about this plan I assumed it was to salve his pride. Malfoys don't often consort with paupers. But apparently Mrs. Malfoy believes her son's happiness depends on an equal partnership, one in which you're as free to go or stay as he is."

"So that staying...means something," Harry murmured. He squared his shoulders. "I understand. I'll take my issues up with...Draco, then." It's more fun to say his name to her, than I would have believed possible.

Fairfax grimaced. "Although I personally wish to advise you that if you leave Mister Malfoy before he tires of you, Poole and I will tear you limb from limb."

Now it was Miss Poole's turn to frown. "That's enough about unhappiness and tiring and leaving," she murmured. "You know we've never seen Mister Malfoy happier than on the afternoon before he left."

Harry smiled as he thought of that afternoon, and the evening that had followed it, but he didn't say anything.

Fairfax continued briskly, "In addition to the new suite, he's constructing a separate bedroom. Not in his own suite, which is the master's, and not in your new suite. A separate, massive room, with extra high ceilings and the very latest in soundproofing." At the thought of the noises he and Draco might potentially make, Harry blushed, hoping the two women didn't notice. "Don't worry about the cost; the estate can bear these minor charges. The Malfoy fortune grows by leaps and bounds every year, and I'm a superb custodian. The Malfoys can afford the best of everything, and it's my job to see that they get it." As always, reciting her own virtues seemed to have cheered Fairfax somewhat. The moment seemed propitious...

"Speaking of your budget," Harry said, "and Malfoys deserving the best, I have a request of my own." He paused, shyly. "The weight room is lacking only one piece of equipment, to be up to date." He brought out the catalogue, which was from a company named Cybex. "I've circled the apparatus I recommend you buy. They ship directly from the factory, and when it gets here, I can assemble it."

Fairfax took the catalogue and she and Poole pored over it for a moment. "I see," Fairfax said, closing the catalogue and putting it on her desk. "Should this be a surprise for Mister Malfoy?"

I also intend Draco to have the best of everything. That's what this is all about. Aloud Harry said, "I'll leave that to your judgement, but I think a surprise would be fun."

"Good for you," Poole murmured, with a smile. "May I call you Harry?" Harry nodded. "Then bravo, Harry, for asking for what you need. And you may call me Grace." Poole--Grace--put down her teacup. "Fairfax has got to be stern about everything, because it's her job. And you'll never get to first names with her in a million years, so don't expect it. But that doesn't mean you and I can't be cordial, or that I can't tell you how delighted I am, Harry, to see you and Mister Malfoy together. You've already been a good influence on him, and if loving you makes him want to actually live here at last, you've benefited us all, more than I can say." Her smile was really more of a grin, Harry decided. "I only hope you two will be half as happy as Fairfax and I have been."

Harry saw that Fairfax was frowning at Grace Poole. "Need to know basis," Fairfax murmured, but Poole seemed unrepentant. As she took another biscuit, she tossed her head.

"I think he needs to know," Poole said, with another dazzling smile. "Harry, you'll be glad to know the soundproofing works perfectly. Our own suite has had it for years."

"Grace, that's enough," Fairfax said sternly, with a very uncharacteristic colour in her cheeks. Harry decided to stand up and politely take his leave.

+++

Harry had been wondering how to tell the boys, and while he wondered, Vittorio's connection to the staff grapevine forced his hand. When he arrived to gather the boys for an afternoon's ramble, he found Vittorio sulking in a near-tantrum, with traces of tears on his cheeks.

Swiftly he squatted in front of the boy. "What's the matter?" he asked softly. "Can I help?" But Vittorio just shook his head, angrily. Harry looked helplessly at Angelo, who was building a fortress of blocks.

"You're leaving," Angelo said.

"But...I'm not," Harry said, puzzled.

"Liar!" The word burst out of Vittorio. "Fairfax is interviewing for a new tutor. I don't want a new tutor." Suddenly it all became clear to Harry.

"I understand you're angry, because you think I'm leaving, right? Can I explain?"

Vittorio shook his head.

"If I promise you that I'm not leaving?"

Vittorio raised his tear-stained face hopefully. "You're not?"

"I'm not," Harry said with a sigh. "Can I explain?"

The two boys sat beside Harry on the hearthrug. Gravely Harry handed his handkerchief to Vittorio, who wiped his face and blew his nose.

"I've told you some stories about your mom and dad," Harry said. "Do you remember?"

"They loved us a lot," Angelo said cheerfully.

"That's right," Harry said. "Now I want to tell you about something that happened before you were born. Once upon a time, when your parents were my age, they met each other. I don't know how it happened. Maybe their families lived near each other, or maybe they went to the same school. However it happened, they became friends."

"After they had been friends for some time, they realized they liked each other so much, that they wanted to live together. To spend the rest of their lives together and make a family." Vittorio smiled, and Angelo's mouth opened in an O shape. Harry continued, "That's what happened to my parents, too. They met at school, and made a family, and had me."

"I wish your parents, and mine, were alive now," Harry said with a sigh. "Your mother and father would be very proud to see you growing up, intelligent and strong and brave. But I want you to remember that they loved you very much." The boys nodded gravely. "That's what you need to make a family: love."

Harry shifted his legs to get more comfortable. I want to tell them enough, but not too much. The homophobia in the outside world...they can learn about that later. And I mustn't talk down to them. "I expect you've heard the staff talking about this. Or if you haven't, you will. What's happening is, Mister Malfoy and I have decided to make a family, just like our parents did." Angelo's mouth made the O again, and Vittorio frowned gravely. "This actually means I'm staying longer. Mister Malfoy is going to spend more time here at the Manor, and I'm going to live here with him. I want to live with him for the rest of my life." I want that so much. I can't believe how lucky I am. "I'll still teach you natural history, and flying. And I can teach you more about music, if you'd like. Mrs. Fairfax is interviewing, because Mister Malfoy wants to hire a new tutor, but he or she will be here along with me. I'm not leaving, okay?" The boys nodded. "In fact, we're looking for a tutor who speaks Italian, like your parents did. It's a beautiful language and you should know it better."

"I know some!" Vittorio said proudly. Angelo pouted.

"Well, you'll both be learning it. So you'll know two languages. And maybe even more languages some day. There are lots of wonderful languages in the wide world." Harry felt relieved that his news had gone over fairly smoothly.

"Does Mister Malfoy love you?" Vittorio was working out the implications.

"Yes," Harry said with a smile. "He does. And Mister Malfoy and I both love the two of you. Once I'm not your tutor any more, I'll be able to tell you, and show you, more often." And I'd better check with my beloved first, but I'd like them to call us Harry and Draco. There's too much formality in their lives.

Vittorio was relentless. "He loves you! Is that why you were sad, this summer, and you're happy now?"

Harry blushed. I should have known I couldn't hide my moods from Vittorio. He sees everything. "Yes," he said with a grin. "I knew I loved Mister Malfoy, but I didn't know he loved me back. So I was sad, this summer. But now I'm very, very happy."

Vittorio looked grave. "Mister Malfoy gets sick. He pushes himself too hard."

Now you interest me a great deal, Harry thought. "Is that what the staff says?" Vittorio nodded. "And do they know why he's ill?"

"Nobody knows," Vittorio said. "They say it's mysterious. And Mrs. Malfoy is sick all the time."

"And you're not leaving." Angelo seemed to have gotten the key point.

"I'm not leaving. Ever," Harry said firmly. "Any more questions? Because it's a beautiful afternoon and it's time for us to go enjoy it."

+++

The flying (well, Apparating) visit to see Hermione and Ron was blissful for Harry. Hermione had just received her first promotion at the Ministry of Magic, and Harry and Seamus took her out to dinner to celebrate. She leafed through Harry's portraits of Draco with pursed lips and said, "Does he really look like this?"

"More handsome, actually," Harry murmured.

"Wow."

When he saw Ron, Harry didn't say much, just enjoyed his friend's company, met his teammates, listened to his news, and grinned "like an idiot," Ron said. The Cannons lost their match but Harry vowed that he'd convince Draco to get season tickets.

Meanwhile, the new suite of rooms was completed and decorated more quickly than Harry would have dreamed possible, and as the beautiful October days wore on, he moved in his meagre belongings. At least he didn't have to blush for the wall decorations; he hung some of his own work, suitably matted and framed. The bedroom walls featured his portraits of Draco, and the charcoal sketch of him and Draco together. And Mrs. Fairfax moved one of the Manor's three grand pianos into Harry's sitting room. "Poole has been wanting to move a sideboard into its place for years," she said, gruffly, when he attempted to thank her.

He was also staggered to find himself the owner of Moor House, a small but neatly kept estate. His first meeting with his bailiff was bewildering. "I'd recommend you continue to rent the house to its current tenants, if you're not going to live there at the moment," that worthy individual said. "Along with the proceeds of the farm, that provides a tidy income."

"Let's keep renting it, by all means," Harry had said with a gulp. He had to trust the bailiff, who managed a number of estates for absentee owners; Fairfax had recommended him highly. Eventually Harry wanted to find out all about Moor House and his mother's childhood there, but right now all he could think about was Draco's return, and the fact that Draco had promised he'd spend the entire month of November with Harry. When Harry's passionate imagination threatened to overwhelm him, he distracted himself with exercise, indoors and out.

The end of the month saw the installation of the new tutor in Harry's former suite, and a festive Hallowe'en party, which passed in a haze for Harry. At last the morning of November first dawned cold and clear. Harry was finishing breakfast, staring out the windows of his sitting room in a happy reverie, when he heard a knock on the door of his suite. It's early yet, but.... He walked to the door and opened it. Draco stood in the hall, wearing casual robes and his most glinting smile.

"May I come in?"

"May you!" Harry dragged Draco through the door. Almost before he had slammed it shut, they were in each other's arms. His lips...his hair...the spicy tang of his neck... For many long moments there was a blissful silence as Harry and Draco reacquainted themselves with each other. It was Draco who pulled back first.

"Lots to do, today," he murmured, taking Harry's hand in his. "Harry, this is it. Body and soul. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Harry said simply. "I've missed you so much."

Draco smiled, almost sadly. I'd forgotten just how handsome he is. Or did he grow even more handsome while we were parted? "I'm sorry I haven't wooed you properly," Draco said.

"Are you kidding?" Harry asked. "The new suite of rooms? Buying me my mother's family's estate? It's like King Cophetua, and if I didn't love you as much as I do I'd be utterly embarrassed and overwhelmed."

"Forget all that," Draco said. "All I care about, really, is the new bedroom. Our new bedroom. But first..." He drew a small fabric-coated box out of his pocket. "If you'd like a party, we can have that later on." He flipped open the box to reveal two identical rings, plainly shaped, with a subtle pattern of red gold twined with platinum. He put the box down on the piano and took one of the rings in his hands.

Stunned, Harry watched as Draco lifted Harry's left hand and slid the ring onto his fourth finger. As he did so Draco said softly, "I pledge myself to you, Harry. Body and soul."

Hardly daring to breathe, Harry lifted the other ring from the box. He took Draco's left hand in his own hands, and slid the ring onto Draco's finger. He was surprised to hear his own voice sound clear and firm and resolute. "I pledge myself to you, Draco. Body and soul."

Draco smiled with satisfaction. "That's it, then."

Harry looked, marveling, at the ring on his hand. "It...fits perfectly."

"Magical," Draco said. "I've put quite a lot of spells on them, actually. Just the normal enchantments I use when I want to bind myself to someone for eternity."

Harry laughed, a bit nervously. "I never know when you're joking."

Draco drew Harry into his arms again. "You'll have a lifetime to learn." He buried his face in Harry's neck for a moment, breathing rather quickly, then lifted his head. "You're looking...good. Is everything else all right? The boys?" Harry nodded. "Staff been insubordinate?" Harry shook his head.

"I think they've been too shocked to give me any trouble, actually. And Poole actually became cordial. I had no idea she and Fairfax..."

"Yes," Draco said with an amused smile. "They're sweet together. And when I told them it was you and not Pansy, Fairfax almost cast aside her famous reserve and fell on my neck. I expect the rest will take their cues from those two, but if anyone so much as looks at you sideways, I want to know about it. Now, have you seen our new bedroom?"

"No," Harry whispered. "I've been waiting for you."

"That's next, then," Draco said. "The honeymoon will now commence."

Harry blushed. "I thought you said there was lots to do today."

Draco smiled mischievously. "There is. In bed."

+++

There were two ornate locks on the door of the bedroom. Once he and Harry were both inside, Draco threw the dead bolt over with a crash. There were tall windows, several full-length mirrors, comfortable chairs, several beautifully carved wardrobes, a fireplace...but the centerpiece of the room was an enormous canopied bed, with mint-green brocade hangings. Sunlight streamed onto the white silk sheets, which were already turned down. Harry saw there were two rooms attached to the bedroom: a bathroom with a huge marble-lined shower, and a small pantry with a dumbwaiter, so that meals could be delivered and dishes collected in complete privacy.

"Draco, this is amazing," Harry murmured.

Draco looked grim. "I wanted us to be together in a place that can be ours alone. Not in your bed, and...not in my father's bed." His expression lifted. "This room is private; we'll clean it ourselves, using magic. And in here, we'll make magic."

As Draco turned deliberately towards him, with a fierce look in his eyes, Harry felt his breathing stop for a moment. This is it. Draco, please...I've wanted this for so long. As if he'd read Harry's thoughts, Draco began to undress Harry, gently but inexorably. Harry reached around Draco's arms to pull off Draco's robes and lift off his shirt and loosen his trousers and let them fall around his ankles. Both men stepped out of their trousers and kicked off their shoes. Soon they stood naked before each other.

Harry couldn't keep himself from gasping as he stared at Draco's body, and Draco stood proudly and let him stare. Even more handsome than I imagined. Slender, graceful, good lean muscles. I see that all his hair is that gorgeous white-blond colour. He's...immense. And immensely beautiful. Soft now, but oh how I want to touch him and make him want me. Harry didn't need to look down to know that every part of his own body was rock hard. But he was past being embarrassed. Body and soul, he thought, remembering their simple vows. That's what this will be.

Draco's face was full of love. He reached out his hand, very slowly. "I believe you said, Harry, no other man has touched you."

"No man. No woman. No one," Harry murmured.

"I'm glad," Draco murmured. "That I'll be your first." He smoothed his hands across Harry's shoulders, down his chest and his stomach, until his hands gently encircled Harry. Draco smiled as Harry gasped with pleasure. "I can see you're ready, so..." Almost before Harry realized what was happening, Draco was kneeling before him, clasping one of his buttocks in each hand, enveloping Harry with his lips, fondling him with his tongue. It feels like...hot velvet. Each lick of his tongue...electricity sizzles all the way up my spine. I can't do this!

Again it was as if Draco was reading his mind. He pulled his mouth away for a second. "Let go, Harry. Relax." Just as Harry was beginning to feel disappointed that the hot velvet feeling had stopped, Draco's mouth was back, Draco's hands were caressing him...

"You're going to make me explode!" Harry could see Draco smiling at this, but he didn't slacken one bit of his relentless stroking and sucking. Harry lost himself in feeling many sensations he'd never felt before, until finally he had to admit, "I'm...having problems...standing up." At that Draco swiftly pulled back and stood up himself. He led Harry to the bed and pushed him down onto it.

"Then I'll take you on your back," Draco said, kneeling over Harry's body, pulling his long blond hair away from his face with one hand.

Harry was shocked. "But you don't want me to...in your mouth!"

"Oh, yes, I do," Draco said with a smile. "Later I'll teach you how to make this last much, much longer. But this time, you're almost ready to come, and I want to taste you." His face was stern. "No more talking. You belong to me, so prove it, Harry. Come for me now." Draco took Harry once more between his lips and sucked greedily, hungrily. Harry gave up all pretense of controlling his own body as he let Draco's tongue coax him over the edge, and he lost every shred of embarrassment as he felt himself shuddering in Draco's mouth. This...is...so...different...so...new... When, after a blissful interval in which Harry lost track of time, Draco finished licking Harry clean and threw himself onto the bed next to Harry, Harry's eyes were wet with ecstasy.

"Oh, Draco," was all he could say. "You..."

"Shhh," Draco said. "Under the covers, now." He wrestled both of them between the sheets and nestled himself around Harry's body. "Take a short nap if you want. Then more sex, some lunch, still more sex." Harry gave a happy sigh at the thought. "We have all day," Draco murmured. "We have all month." In each other's arms, they drifted off to sleep.

+++

Harry woke with the feeling that he'd had a delightful dream. He'd dreamed that he and Draco Malfoy had exchanged rings. That they had stolen away to a very private room in Malfoy Manor. That Draco had made him feel...

With a gasp of pleasure at the memory, Harry turned his head to see Draco's blond hair tousled on the pillow next to him, Draco's handsome face in profile. This was the best dream I've ever had. And it wasn't a dream. Draco was lying on his back, breathing shallowly, still asleep, with the sheets tucked around his waist and trapped under his arms. I'm almost glad he's asleep, because I need time to think. Seeing him naked...after only dreaming about him for so long...my senses are still reeling...

As he watched his lover sleep, Harry struggled to put his thoughts in order. His body felt extraordinarily good, relaxed, but... I had no idea. For all the times I've dreamed about sex with Draco, I always assumed...it would satisfy me. But instead, it's...unleashed something. Now I want him so much more strongly that... Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. Each time we've touched I've fallen more deeply in love, and lust. Now I want the imprint of his body burned into mine so no one else can ever make me feel anything at all. I'm going to be hungry for Draco forever and it's only going to get stronger and stronger, the more often we make love. Before I had no idea that this would happen, but now it's exactly what I want.

As he turned on his side, to watch Draco more closely, suddenly Harry's blood ran cold. I've been selfish! So wrapped up in my own thoughts, my own sensations, that I didn't give a thought to Draco's pleasure. No, I just passed out after he made me come and... Harry blushed. Well, that's a virgin mistake and now I'm not a virgin any more. I hope he'll tell me what he likes, but until then, I'm going to do what I feel, what I want... Aloud he murmured, "Wake up, my beloved. Time for me to worship you."

As Harry took Draco's right hand in his own, he saw Draco's eyelids flutter, although they didn't open. Pretending to be asleep, then. Let's see how long he can keep up the pretense. He moved his face and tongue all over Draco's hand, smelling it, nibbling it, caressing his fingers. He spent a long time on Draco's strong, elegant wrist, inside and outside, and then worked his way up the arm. I love skin. Such a miracle, it's so thin, and yet...I hope he's feeling every bit of this... Draco's arm and shoulder muscles were slender but strong, like whipcord, and Harry kneaded and caressed them, becoming utterly lost in his lover's body. He arrived in triumph, his own breath quickening, at Draco's collarbone, and took a break to move Draco's chin to meet his own for a long, shuddering kiss. Draco's tongue seemed suddenly shy, so Harry used his own tongue to plunge inside Draco's mouth and taste his own acrid flavour mingled with the mint of Draco's breath. The kiss lasted a long time, and when Harry finally pulled back he saw tears glistening on Draco's eyelashes.

"Harry," Draco murmured. "I have to--"

"Shhh, not now," Harry said.

Draco was still weeping, silently, as he let his head fall back onto the pillow. "I've been--"

"You've been wonderful," Harry said. "Now it's my turn." He returned to his worship, with hands and lips, of Draco's collarbone, and then spent a long, precious half hour on Draco's neck and his right ear. Happy to see his lover's tears had ceased, he moved to Draco's smooth chest. Propping himself up on one arm, he licked Draco's muscles, teased and sucked his nipples...I've never done this before but it feels so natural, and I loved it when he touched mine. Only when he felt thoroughly drunk on Draco's chest did he allow himself to move towards Draco's navel, from which a silky track of white-blond hair led downward. He wriggled his upper body down so he could move his mouth more easily along Draco's stomach, and adjusted the sheet...

For the second time that morning, Harry's blood ran cold. In a daze, he continued kissing Draco's stomach, gently and thoroughly. I mustn't let on. Until I've had time to think. Inside Harry's brain, time seemed to stand still as he recalled all the times he and Draco had ever touched each other, and as phrases from his past conversations with Draco echoed with a sudden frightening clarity.

He remembered how, before Draco had kissed him for the first time, Draco had paced, angrily, seeming to hesitate. Finally he'd said, "I'm tired of being noble about this. So I'll wreck your life, as well as mine." And then I said it was my choice too, Harry thought. And only then did he kiss me. And in the drawing room, that same night, he remembered...

"We'll possess each other fully. As fully as we can."

"It's good that you respond to me. Don't hide it. Glory in it."

"Turn me on, as hard as you can. Torment me, even."

As he continued kissing Draco, who lay still and almost motionless beneath him, Harry felt a surge of profound sorrow, almost despair, well up in his heart. He knew, Harry thought. He was trying to tell me, without coming out and saying it. But I was the stupid virgin, who never realized what was missing. What else had Draco said in the rose garden? "You'll want to help. And you won't be able to." Even then he knew me so well. Of course I want to help! As for not being able to help: sod that! There must be something...

Harry remembered what he'd written to Hermione: "I'm going to work harder at this relationship than I've ever worked at anything in my life." And he remembered his vows, taken just hours ago. Body and soul. If he had known then, would he still...? Fuck, yes. Of course. For ever. No matter what. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling once again the bliss of Draco's skin beneath his lips, smelling the spicy scent that he knew he would never tire of. Think of what I would want to hear, if it were me, was Harry's final thought as he wriggled his body back up so he lay on his side, facing Draco, who still lay on his back, staring up at the canopy above the bed. He took Draco's two hands in his own, and moved his left hand so that his ring brushed against the ring on Draco's finger.

"I love you, Draco," he murmured. "No matter what. Body and soul." Draco moved his eyes away from the canopy to look back at Harry, and raised one eyebrow, sardonically. "And I'm sorry I interrupted you, before. You were saying, you have to..."

"Yes," said Draco. He spoke quietly, but Harry felt his whole body, which had been blissfully relaxed under Harry's hands, suddenly quiver with tension. "I have to tell you something." Harry waited for a long moment, but Draco had fallen silent.

Harry dropped Draco's hands and caressed Draco's taut chest. "Just this morning you reminded me that I belong to you. And you asked me to prove it, by coming for you." Draco sighed. Harry continued inexorably. "What if I asked you the same? To come for me?"

Steadily, Draco's eyes met Harry's as he said, "I would have to tell you that I couldn't. Yet. That although I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone, I can't prove it to you. That parts of my body act like they're...dead." He sighed again. "I should have told you."

"You should have," Harry murmured, holding Draco's hand again. "I believe you started to hint, but I didn't understand."

With a sudden harsh movement, Draco sat up and pulled himself around until he sat, facing Harry, cross legged. The sheet fell away. "Go ahead," Draco said bitterly. "You can touch it. It doesn't hurt. It just...won't get hard."

Harry sat up to face Draco. "You're beautiful, all over," he said steadily. "I'll want to touch you, smell you, taste you, all over. When we're making love. But now we're talking." He looked at Draco significantly. "You didn't tell me before. Tell me now."

Draco shrugged. "I didn't tell you because I hoped I wouldn't have to. I've been working to find a solution, of course I have. I just need more time." He looked angry and frustrated, but Harry understood the anger wasn't aimed at him. "I want us to be together for the rest of our lives, and someday, maybe someday soon, part of that will be that I'll be able to get hard for you, and we'll be able to have orgasms, together." His face softened in a smile and he reached out to run his hand along Harry's muscular chest. "For now, my love, you'll have to have the climaxes for both of us. You were so beautiful, this morning--let's do that again--" Draco's hand moved down Harry's chest, and Harry felt himself stiffening in anticipation, but he grabbed Draco's hand.

"We're not done talking," Harry said. I have to know everything about this. "You think this is...curable?"

Draco flopped back down, lying on his back. With resignation he said, "There's nothing wrong with my body. I mean, the hydraulics are fine, I've established that. The problem is in my mind. It's a side effect."

Harry leaned forward, trying to see into Draco's eyes. "A side effect of what?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Can't? Or won't?"

"Whichever you like," Draco said. Now his eyes were closed. "I warned you there are things I won't ever discuss. This is one of them."

"Has it got anything to do with how sick you were, this summer?" Harry felt a growing knot of fear in the pit of his stomach.

"Same answer." Draco's eyes were still closed.

I've got to ask some questions he will answer. Harry lay down, gently, and curled himself all along the side of Draco's body. With relief he felt his lover relax a bit. "When was the last time you got hard?" he asked softly.

Draco turned his face to Harry with a loving smile. "I can answer that, if you promise not to take it wrong."

"Why would I take it wrong?"

"I don't want you to think I'm just using you for sex," Draco murmured. "I fell in love with you, you know."

"I still don't know what you mean. Mmm." The sorrow of their situation receded a bit as Harry enjoyed the feel of Draco all along his body.

"The only time I've gotten hard, in recent memory, was the day we met. When I saw you for the first time, in the woods near the dragons' enclosure. It was fleeting, but for just a moment I felt myself again, and I took that for...a good omen."

"How long had it been before that?"

"Years," Draco said.

"How many years?" Harry asked, but Draco just shook his head. "And you've been working to solve this problem? With your mind?" Draco nodded. "And you think you're close?"

"I hope so," Draco whispered. "But I don't know." He sighed. "I'm sorry I let you bind yourself to me, Harry, before I told you. But I wanted you so badly. I've gotten in the habit of taking what I want."

Harry smiled. "I've noticed. And I hope you'll take me again soon." Draco began to roll up on his side, but Harry pushed him back down. "But before we do that, tell me if there is anything I can do to give you pleasure. Despite your...situation. I've been so selfish already this morning..."

Draco sighed again. "There are...things you could do, yes. But I hadn't thought I would tell you, until I'm sure I can't put myself right. You're such an innocent, I don't want to corrupt you."

Harry threw up his hand in exasperation. "Draco, what part of 'body and soul' don't you understand? Tell me. Tell me everything I can do to please you!"

"Do you mean that?" Draco looked grave.

Now it was Harry's turn to sigh. "Intelligent. Handsome. Powerful. Wealthy."

"Impotent," Draco added wryly.

"And an utter and complete idiot!" Harry finished crossly. "Of course I mean it! No, and I mean no, access to my own erections until you tell me some things I can do to please you, and we do at least one of them!" He was happy to see that this had made Draco laugh.

"Okay," Draco said. He sat up again and faced Harry, sitting cross-legged. Harry lay back and stared up at Draco's face, still marveling at his beauty. Draco began to count on his fingers.

"First. I loved what you were doing earlier, holding me and stroking my skin and kissing me. As long as you understand that it's not going to get me hard, until I find a solution to my problem, it's very pleasant to be touched and held. And of course I love touching and holding you."

"Second. Your body...simply scrambles my brain." He looked down at Harry fondly, and drew his hand over Harry's chest. "You are the man of my dreams, in every respect, except that we're awake, which is even better. Don't think I haven't noticed that in the two months that we've been apart you've built up several new muscles that I didn't think human beings even had. And those are just on your chest, whereas your legs, which I just saw this morning for the first time..."

Harry smiled. "You paid for them," he said. "Or rather, Fairfax did. She bought some new equipment."

"You did the work, I know. And much as I'm tempted to lock the two of us in here for ever, I expect that instead I'll beg you to keep working out. I love how you look, and the only thing I'd like is to see more of you, naked." Draco blushed and his voice sounded suddenly a bit hoarse. "If you could become more of an exhibitionist. Pose for me. Send my brain into overload, as often as you can."

With a swift movement Harry threw the sheet off the lower half of his own body and kicked it to the end of the bed. "You already know I'm shy, so I may need you to encourage me, the way you did in front of the mirror. But I'll do as you ask."

"Oh yes," Draco murmured, staring at Harry's legs and already appearing rather faint. "Don't hold back on making me want you; it'll help with my healing if I'm half out of my mind with lust. Even if my body can't show it yet."

Harry was amused and also pleased at the way Draco was staring. Maybe I'll learn to enjoy showing off, if he's going to keep looking at me like that. "Is there anything more?"

"Where was I? Oh, yes." Draco collected himself and tapped his third finger. "Third. There are a surprising number of nerve endings in the human arse." He looked at Harry as if he was unsure how Harry would take this. "If you could bring yourself to...fuck me...I won't come, of course, but it's the only sexual act I can actually feel."

Harry gulped. I guess I am an innocent, just like Draco said. I'd wondered if we might someday...but it always seemed like kind of a forbidden thing. I guess it's...not.

Draco continued inexorably, as if, now that he'd started, he was determined to get it all out. "Fourth and last," he said. "I have a high tolerance for pain, that I've built up over a number of years. It's another...side effect. But pain is something I can feel, and pain profoundly heightens other sensations. The kind of pain I need would cause permanent damage to a Muggle, but fortunately, we're both wizards."

He acts like he knows this for certain... Harry shut his jaw, which had fallen open.

"Before you ask," Draco said, "I know all this from experience with other lovers, as I've tried to cure myself. No one you know," he said harshly. "No one I loved." He sighed. "But those are the only things that can touch me at all, in my...damaged state. If you could bring yourself to do any of them, I'd be grateful." He leaned forward and took Harry's hand. "I should have told you before this. I don't intend to deny our bond, but I wouldn't blame you if you moved to Moor House, forever, or even just until I find the cure."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine himself living in the tidy manor house near Whitcross. A comfortable, peaceful bachelorhood. Exercise. Alone, building muscles for no one but myself to enjoy. Playing music. I could never play Neville's concertos again. Painting and sketching. Pictures of Draco, from memory only, as I did in my lonely attic? Untroubled sleep. Touching myself as I dream of Draco. He shuddered. Now that I've known my beloved, it'd be a living death. Aloud he said, "Moor House would be the same as Romania to me now. My life is with you. Whether or not I can make you come for me."

Draco clasped Harry's hands more tightly. His eyes were wet again. "I hope some day soon that will change. But until then, what I want and need most is...oblivion. To leave my body, forget everything, for as long as possible. And the only way you can give it to me is to combine all four of my...pleasures. Use your body to drive my mind into overload, until I want you so desperately I don't care about the risks we're about to run. Hurt me until all my nerve endings are burning and throbbing with agony. Take me, hard, until I pass out from the pain-heightened sensations of you fucking me. And afterwards, hold me in your arms as I slowly return to myself."

Harry discovered that his own eyes were wet, and he felt both sick and dizzy. Body and soul, he thought grimly as he forced himself to sit up and turn and face Draco. He remembered what he'd felt, sketching in front of the mirror: To please him I would try anything. As he took Draco's hands in his own Harry was proud to see that his hands weren't trembling. And his voice when he finally spoke was clear and steady. "Then you're going to teach me, Draco. And when you've taught me everything I need to know we're going to do exactly that."

+++

Not all the honeymoon occurred indoors. Draco introduced Harry to the three dragons who lived within the hedge of thorns, using their own language in a series of growls and howls that was utterly incomprehensible to Harry. "I'm telling them you're my mate," Draco whispered. "That's what the dragons call it." While Draco worked and flew with the dragons for several hours each day, Harry spent the same hours playing with the boys and teaching them music. Both Draco and Harry continued Vittorio's flying lessons and took the boys for nature walks. At other times Draco and Harry wandered together through the Manor's grounds, or rambled into the woods, which had a stark new beauty now that most of the autumn leaves had fallen and only the evergreen trees kept their needles. At the end of their afternoon hikes there was a roaring fire with tea or steaming hot drinks in the drawing room, followed by supper and music or sketching or reading or strategy games.

Harry kept his promise to Draco as he continued to exercise his own muscles. Moreover, he spent some of the salary he'd saved over the summer to hire the top physical therapist in London to give both himself and Draco an extensive deep tissue massage. He was pursuing one of the many theories spinning in his head, wondering whether it would be good for Draco to feel present in his body more often, rather than less. At any rate, Draco appreciated the massage, and went so far as to engage the eminent therapist for return visits and hire a somewhat less eminent masseuse to live at the Manor and treat not only Draco and Harry but all of the human staff members. Harry and Grace Poole also began taking lessons from him.

But their bedroom was indeed where Harry and Draco wove their bodies and souls most closely together. They spent long hours sleeping or talking or just breathing. They tumbled playfully like puppies. They fed themselves briskly, or each other sensuously, with the sumptuous meals that came up through the dumbwaiter on trays.

In a series of exquisite lessons, Draco taught Harry how to prolong his pleasure by delaying his orgasms. He enjoyed how abandoned Harry soon became, and the intensity of his exuberant response to Draco's lessons. "This is exactly what I wanted," Harry murmured, as Draco held him tightly, helping him recover. "I'm bound to you so much more closely now. You have truly ruined me for any other lover."

Draco's arms closed around Harry in triumph. "Now you have much more control of your own body, as well. Can you guess what's next?"

"I can," Harry murmured, shivering just a bit. "Your body craves...oblivion. I promised, I would learn how to give it to you, didn't I?" Next came not lessons but mutual explorations, of all the possible ways that Harry could penetrate Draco and massage him from inside. They found that Draco could feel the most intense sensations when Harry fucked him from behind...

"But I don't get to see you, this way, so you have to let me see you a lot more, before we start. Ah!"

"What?" When Draco turned his head around, Harry saw that there were tears on Draco's cheeks, although his lover was smiling.

"This is...better than it's ever been, for me," Draco said, breathing quickly. "It may be because you're...larger than any lover I've ever had, or it may be because I love you. Either way, I'm so grateful..." In a sudden fit of temper, he banged the headboard with his hand. "Damn!" he said.

"What?" Worried, Harry stopped pushing into Draco.

"Don't stop! Damn, I just--" He sighed. "It's not enough. Until I can come, too, it won't be enough."

It was true, that no matter how long Harry stayed hard, no matter what position they used to make Draco feel Harry filling him and stroking his prostate gland, Draco never became erect himself and never found the oblivion he craved. Finally, reluctantly, Harry began the final set of lessons Draco wanted to teach, those having to do with pain.

When Draco added elaborate manacles to the walls of their marble-lined shower, Harry's eyes grew wide. "You'll have to restrain me, before you hurt me, so that I don't forget myself and attack you. So that I can't escape."

When Harry saw what was inside the wardrobes in the corner of the bedroom, he felt frankly terrified. More types of restraints, and more instruments of torture, than I even knew existed. I can see that I'm about to become deeply perverted. He sighed. And I know that even if Draco manages to put himself right, a part of him has gotten used to this and he'll probably always enjoy it. A deeper sigh. If I've got to torture Draco, I'm going to learn to do it extraordinarily well. So, here goes...

Draco was finicky about the care of his peculiar toys. "We'll always clean and sterilize all the implements, the same day we use them. There's nothing more annoying than to find yourself in the mood and discover that the device you're planning to use is encrusted with dried blood, or shit, or semen, and you have to stop everything and clean it."

"I'll take your word for that," Harry said, trying not to laugh at Draco's housewifely tone. He did see, of course, why they had to clean this bedroom themselves, and quickly learned the appropriate cleaning spells so he could do his share, as he'd learned the healing spells that were needed to correct the damage he'd inflicted on Draco's body, either by mistake or on purpose.

They quickly discovered that there were things that Harry just couldn't do, regardless of his love for Draco and his determination to give his lover what he asked for. "I'm a visual artist who worships beauty. You're the most beautiful man I've ever known. I just can't."

"That's all right," Draco said. "There are lots of other ways to cause pain." He taught Harry which parts of the body could be beaten for the longest periods of time, and how once the beatings had made his skin exceptionally tender, to take advantage of that sensitivity to cause enough pain to flood Draco's senses with endorphins, using his body's natural responses to injury. Harry painstakingly learned how to use all the whips and paddles and canes in the wardrobe, finding new uses for his stamina and coordination. And he surprised himself by discovering that he could creatively misuse what he'd learned in massage class, using only his hands to manipulate the pressure points in Draco's body, to cause him exquisite agony...

But, the lovers discovered together, the quickest route to driving Draco over the edge, was burning his skin, either with hot wax, or with a branding iron that had been in Draco's family for years. "What did your ancestors use it for? A branding iron with the family crest?"

"Best not to ask," Draco murmured. "I never have. Just leave it in the fire until it's glowing orange, that's right..." The smell of Draco's flesh burning made Harry feel ill, so they had to cast a spell to cover that...

It was all very complicated, but as the year drew towards its close Harry found he had become more proficient in the art of torture than he could have believed possible, and when Draco begged Harry for oblivion, Harry was proud to be able to give it to him.

By the end of the month-long honeymoon, the lovers had bonded in every way that was possible for them. They'd bravely shared their desires, and even more bravely acted on them. Harry felt his body was now as attuned to Draco's as he could wish, with the confidence that as the years progressed his body would help him continue to fall more and more deeply in love. Despite his disability, Draco was generous in playing the light-hearted sexual games that Harry liked best, and never showed any sign of being bored with them, as long as Harry was happy.

For his part, Harry didn't think he'd ever actually enjoy hurting Draco, but he had come to savor the sense of power and delight he felt when he was fucking his lover, giving him the only kind of pleasure Draco could feel. There was only one desire that he hadn't yet expressed. There's no point. It wouldn't be helpful to say anything. It would only hurt him to hear it. Nevertheless, he found himself brooding, especially when Draco returned to work full-time, spending some of his days at the new facility he was building in Britain, but also spending two or three nights a week on the Continent, leaving Harry to toss and turn wakefully in his own sumptuous suite of rooms. I've begun to truly enjoy fucking him, but I can't help but dream of what it would feel like, to have him inside me. If I tell him, of course, he'll offer me one of those horrible dildos in the wardrobe. I don't want those. I want him, all the way inside me. It's the last frontier we haven't crossed. And of course, until he gets well, we can't cross it. And to mention it would only add to the pressure he's under. Harry berated himself. I'm happier than I could have imagined being, one year ago. Stop brooding about it. He tried not to feel guilty about keeping secrets from Draco. He's keeping secrets from me. He told me that before we ever kissed. He's got a lot of secrets. I have just this one.

Fortunately Draco was careful not to stay away from his lover for too long, and whenever Draco and Harry were together, Harry allowed himself to drown in the delight of his lover's presence. It was only when he was alone that he brooded about his lover's impotence, and what it might possibly be a side effect of, and whether he could do anything more than he was already doing, to help.

+++

Harry found it hard to decide just what part of living with Draco was most amazing. If he had to pick, he guessed it would be the nights that Draco returned from one of his trips abroad. Draco usually Apparated into the fragrant herb garden in the late afternoon, so on a day when his return was expected Harry would sit there under the arbor of roses, wearing casual (but well-made) Muggle clothing and trying to memorize some of the dragon-language from Draco's notebooks. Suddenly the air would shimmer, Draco would appear, and Harry would greet him with passionate kisses. After they celebrated their reunion as thoroughly as they could outdoors, where staff members might walk by at any time, Draco always met with Fairfax to discuss estate business. Finally he visited the boys in their sitting room, and spoke with their tutor, before joining Harry for supper.

The suppers were heaven. Harry never tired of looking at Draco across the table, of talking with him about what had happened since they'd parted. Conversation and relaxation were the main goals of the meal; the chefs at Malfoy Manor were extraordinarily gifted, but neither of the lovers ate or drank heavily at any time, especially not on their nights of reunion.

"What do you want to do after supper?" Draco asked casually, on one such evening. "Sex, sex, or sex?"

Harry blushed. "Sex. Whose turn is it?"

"I don't care whose turn it is, I'd like to make love to you tonight," Draco murmured. He rang the bell for the maid, who stepped briskly through the door. "Hopkins, we'll have our coffee in the drawing room. And what's for dessert?"

Hopkins was plump and pretty, with soft brown hair tied back from her face. Harry knew she was friendly, with a wry sense of humor, but on duty she maintained the impassive face that Fairfax required of all staff members at Malfoy Manor. "Lemon sorbet, and freshly baked macaroons," she said, crisply clearing away the dinner plates.

"Dessert for two, then, and can you ask Poole to add a bowl of dark chocolate sauce, and one of whipped cream? Stiff peaks, please. And a couple of pastry brushes."

Hopkins was extremely professional, Harry thought, as she handled this request without a blush. "Certainly, Mister Malfoy. Coming right up."

"Thank you." As Hopkins vanished, Draco grinned mischievously. "Shall we? I feel like some Chopin...and some Harry."

"You've already given the order," Harry said, pushing back his chair and standing briskly. "And I know you always get what you want." Already he felt desire surging within him, and his nerves sang as he followed Draco to the drawing room. As soon as the door had shut behind them, he seized Draco in his arms.

"Not so fast," Draco murmured. "I'd like to wait for our...dessert. Play for me!" Obediently Harry seated himself on the piano bench, while Draco sprawled in the love seat opposite him. Harry's brain and fingers concentrated on playing Chopin's deceptively simple preludes, which were actually quite challenging, to the best of his ability. The rest of Harry was feeling the bliss of watching Draco's beautiful face and the lamplight on his hair and the long lines of his fiercely masculine body, sprawled in careless ownership of everything he surveyed. Not for the first time, Harry enjoyed the contrast between playing for Draco, now, compared to during the house party Draco had designed to torment him. Now that he no longer doubted Draco's feelings for him, the torment was of a most pleasurable and intimate kind. Oh! It's beginning. Draco was giving him the look of command that nowadays never failed to arouse him. He wants to see if I can keep playing despite...this is intense already, but I'll try to keep it up...oh!

Still holding eye contact with Harry, and smiling wickedly, Draco walked over to lean against the piano. "Don't fight me, Harry," he murmured. "As your fingers move over the keys, think of how I'm going to move my hands over your body. I'm going to play you, Harry..." Of course this sort of teasing had exactly the effect Draco had hoped it would have, and by the time Hopkins and the sedate butler arrived to set up the dessert and coffee on a nearby table, and poke up the fire so it was roaring brightly, it was all Harry could do to sit upright, let alone continue to play. However, he got a grip on himself and managed to maintain his dignity until the staff members had left the room. Trying to make him lose control in front of his former colleagues was one of Draco's favorite games, but Harry was proud to say he'd never yet lost. Now, however...as the door shut a flush rose in Harry's cheeks. He was so hard, aching so intensely, that he felt more than ready to abandon himself to whatever Draco had planned.

"Lock the door, Draco, please," Harry said, blushing still harder. With a quick flick of his wand, Draco did so, and with another flick of his wand he drew the long curtains, so the two of them were enclosed in the warm room with its roaring fire. Harry finished the prelude with a last, gentle chord and slumped forward with a sigh as Draco came around the piano and tipped Harry's head back for a long, passionate kiss. Harry turned around on the piano bench to allow Draco better access to his mouth, and parted his knees, and pulled Draco between his legs and wrapped his arms around him hungrily.

Draco stroked Harry's hair, looking down at him triumphantly. "Now," he murmured, "how do you want it? Shall I make you come right here, on this piano bench, without even taking off your trousers? Or would you like me to strip you and take you on the floor in front of the fire?"

"Yes," Harry said, his voice catching. "Both."

"All right," Draco said. "First, let's get rid of your jumper...and this shirt, too." He had stopped cutting off Harry's clothing with his knife, because it was wasteful; instead Harry sighed with pleasure as Draco pulled the clothes from his upper body and began to caress his shoulders and his chest. "Mmmm." Draco glanced over at the dessert tray. "Sorbet first." He took a spoonful of the lemon ice and held it to Harry's left nipple, smiling as Harry shivered, then moved the spoon and carefully licked every bit of sorbet off Harry, nipping and sucking him. The contrast between the icy cold and the sudden heat of Draco's mouth made Harry gasp. Draco played with both nipples in turn, and fed some of the sorbet to Harry in between, as Harry fell into a blissful trance.

"You too. I'd like to see you," Harry murmured, reaching for the collar of Draco's robe.

"All right," Draco murmured. He pulled off his robe and folded it over a chair, and then pulled off the shirt he wore beneath it, but he kept his trousers on. That made it easier for both of them to ignore the fact that Draco wasn't hard and wouldn't become so. On the nights when he made love to Harry, they didn't think about that.

They sat together on the hard bench, licking sorbet playfully from each other's nipples. Harry felt the dizzying alternating sensations of cold and hot, and tasted the sour lemon ice, and smelled Draco's spicy scent, and drank in the beauty of his hair and his eyes and his face and his lean body. A man who could truly have anyone he wanted. And he loves me. He's focusing his whole attention on me. That's the sexiest thing about this...that's really what makes me so hard. Well, and what he's doing on my chest, with his hands...and his teeth... Finally Harry couldn't endure his arousal any longer. "Please, Draco!" was all he could say.

"You can wait a bit longer," Draco said firmly, and he pulled Harry to his feet, enjoying the way his lover's eyes were dark with desire. "Let's pretend that instead of living at Malfoy Manor, where the staff keeps all our secrets so well, that you take your clothes to a...Muggle dry cleaner, shall we say? Pretend that it'd be terribly embarrassing, even shameful, if you couldn't control yourself. Pretend that you can't possibly allow yourself to make a mess." Harry began to tremble, and Draco looked down in satisfaction. "You've already spoiled your clothes...mmm, I see a revealing wet spot, it's spreading...I see you're quite wanton. You may be a hopeless case, but try to hold on, pretend you don't dare come now, can't possibly." Harry's eyes closed in agony. Draco whispered gently in his ear. "Yes, perhaps it is hopeless, and I should let you spoil my clothes too. When I give you permission, then, do what you must. Now, I'm going to lie back on the bench, that's right, let yourself collapse on top of me. Oh, Harry..." For a moment Draco seemed to forget the story he was telling as he savored the feeling of Harry's hardness digging into his own body, even through layers of fabric. He got a grip. "Do you feel how shockingly you're turned on, Harry? I see that you really are helpless to resist me. Come for me now."

Having been given permission, Harry grabbed Draco's shoulders and pressed his body hard into Draco's and came with a long shuddering gasp. He felt release and hot liquid filling his trousers and make-believe shame transformed into genuine ecstasy. "Ah, Draco," he said. He never seemed able to say anything more eloquent than that, after sex. And Draco never seemed to mind.

Tonight Draco simply held him, for a time that could have been five minutes and could have been an hour, until he finally twitched his own body to make Harry get to his feet. "Sod the macaroons," Draco said. "I'm hungry for something much more creamy. Get the rest of your clothes off and come lie down by the fire." Draco spread his soft robe for Harry to lie on, and then it was a long evening of bliss as Draco licked Harry clean, and slowly decorated various parts of Harry with stripes of dark chocolate and dabs of whipped cream, with special attention to his glorious muscles, not neglecting the large muscle between his legs, and slowly licked him clean again, and slowly and masterfully made him come again, until the two men lay tangled in rapture in front of the dying fire. It was very late when they finally thought about moving.

"How am I going to get upstairs?" Harry murmured. "I think I'm too relaxed to Apparate."

"You're going to wear my robe, and lean on me. And we're going to toss all this stuff in the laundry room as we go by," Draco murmured, collecting the clothes from several corners of the room. "I don't care if the staff sees my chest, and anyway, I expect they're all asleep. Or doing their own shagging."

"Welcome home, Draco," Harry murmured. "I love you so much. I love how you make me feel. I only wish..."

"Shhh," Draco said. "Don't think about that tonight." He unlocked the door of the drawing room and led Harry gently up the stairs.

+++

The very next evening Draco arrived home tense and angry and exhausted from fighting with the builders of his new dragon research facility, or perhaps from carrying the secrets that he wouldn't share with Harry. When they met before supper Harry could tell, by the look of yearning and panic in Draco's eyes, that the coming evening was going to be one of those nights, even before Draco grabbed him and kissed him and whispered in his ear, pleadingly, a single word: "Oblivion."

Skip this section

Harry nodded. "Half an hour. Meet you upstairs." They parted without another word, and Harry went directly to Grace Poole's office.

"What can I do for you this evening, Harry?" Grace asked.

"Draco and I would like supper upstairs tonight. Extra protein, no alcohol."

"It'll be in the dumbwaiter in fifteen minutes," Grace said.

"And can we have more firewood delivered to the hall outside the, uh, the bedroom we've been sharing."

"I'll have Thompson bring it up directly," Grace said with a smile. "Harry, you look sad. Is anything wrong?"

Yes, lots of things. He sighed. "There's nothing you need to worry about. I've just got...things on my mind. What would Fairfax say, 'need to know basis'? If I need your help, I'll let you know. And thank you for everything."

"Just focus on Mister Malfoy," Grace said with a grin. "Keep our moody young master as happy as possible. That way you're helping us all."

If she only knew. Harry left Grace with a shy smile and climbed to the lovers' private room. He built up a roaring fire in the fireplace. He oiled his naked body, all over, and then threw on a severe white bathrobe. He polished his wand and organized his equipment and mentally reviewed the spells he'd be likely to need. He knew the only way he could get through the coming evening would be to be as quick and strong and efficient as possible, strong and efficient for Draco. Therefore, efficient he would be.

When Draco arrived a few minutes later, the Harry who met him seemed completely different from the shy pianist Draco had teased in the drawing room on the previous evening. This Harry was firm and grim. In silence he stripped off Draco's clothes and ran his hands possessively through Draco's hair and around his face and over his soft cheekbones. He wrapped Draco's wrists and ankles in thick cuffs made of Velcro, each with a strong nylon cord attached. The cuffs were impossible to release unless you got the right angle to pull the Velcro apart, which Draco couldn't do because quick as lightning Harry lashed both his wrists to one of the bedposts, and then pushed him down so he was sitting on the bed, and tied his ankles to the same bedpost, near the floor.

"Now," Harry said, looking down at Draco. "You can't touch me, and you can't touch yourself. All you can do is watch, and writhe a bit if you feel like it." He strode around the corner and vanished from Draco's sight for several long moments, during which he hoped the anticipation of what he might do next would begin to work on Draco's nerves. Harry reappeared holding a plate full of cut-up meat, slipping a slender water canteen into the pocket of his robe. Unceremoniously he thrust one of the small pieces of meat into Draco's mouth, and Draco began to chew it.

"I'm going to wreck you thoroughly, tonight," Harry murmured. "You'll need all your strength. So, supper first."

"Mm," Draco said, chewing and swallowing. "What is it? Chicken?" Harry stopped his mouth with another piece.

"You don't need to know," Harry said. "You're nothing more than my pet, tonight, and you'll eat what you're given."

Draco swallowed and raised an eyebrow. "I've created a monster." Another piece of meat.

"You have," Harry murmured. "And I'll punish you for that sarcastic tone, once we get started properly." He lifted the canteen. "Water?"

"Yes," Draco said. Now it was Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Please," Draco said. Harry tipped some water into his lover's mouth.

Harry nourished his lover in silence, alternating water and food, for several more minutes. I'm not eating so that I won't get sick to my stomach, once I start hurting him. Finally he put the plate and bottle aside and once more stroked Draco's face. "Lovely pet," he said. "I didn't want you to pass out from faintness, like you almost did last time. I want you to pass out from me. No more food now...I'll try to remember to give you water from time to time, but if I forget and you feel thirsty, ask."

Draco nodded, his eyes dark with anticipation, as Harry turned down most of the lights in the room. Except for the flickering of the firelight on the wall, the only lights he left on were those that shone brightly, right by the bed.

"I'm sure you remember this next part of the game, because you invented it yourself," Harry murmured. "In this part of the game, you beg. And I don't have to do anything you ask, I won't do anything you ask, until you sound...sincere."

"I don't feel like begging, at all, yet," Draco murmured. But Harry was ignoring Draco, taking off his robe. As the light hit the surface of Harry's carefully oiled body, Draco gasped, and Harry smiled, with his face turned away.

This part gets easier each time. I'll pretend I'm all alone, with only a mirror for company, checking my progress. Harry turned slowly, posing and flexing, stretching and examining each of his muscles in turn. A moan, that was a promising moan, but Draco is very stubborn, so this will take some time. Might as well do some push-ups, so at least I can get a mild workout out of this...peculiar game. And don't forget some serious leg stretches. A long silence, then another moan. That was better. I'm still not sure why he likes this so much. I mean, I'm proud of my body, but I still think this is kind of odd.

"Harry," Draco murmured. "Your body makes me insane." He sighed with frustration. "I want to fuck you, I know I can't, but at least...please..."

Harry turned away and resumed stretching, somewhat closer to Draco. "Don't believe you," he said absently. "My pet doesn't sound sincere." His hands played over his muscles, over his taut stomach, towards his groin. "It's too bad, because I am in the mood for sex. Since there isn't anyone who really wants it, though, I guess I'll have to bring myself off." He lay down on the carpet on his back, put one knee up and crossed the other over it, and began to stroke himself, languidly. He heard Draco gasp.

"Don't!" Draco murmured desperately, his voice low and hoarse. "Please...have sex with me. Hurt me so thoroughly that I can truly feel you, and then fuck me."

Harry continued to stroke himself. "Hurt you?" he asked. "And you won't resist?"

"I'll try not to," Draco said with a sigh. "If I do, punish me. You know what I need. Please!" At the note of panic in Draco's voice, Harry rose and approached his lover. He lifted Draco's face to look into his eyes.

"Pet," Harry said softly. "I hear you have a very high tolerance for pain."

Draco blushed. "I'm afraid I do. Please," he gasped, as tears of frustration glistened on his handsome cheekbones. "I need this so badly. I want you to fuck me. I want to lose control. I want to leave my body. With you, and you alone."

"Good enough," Harry murmured. He stepped quickly to the fireplace, threw on another log, and thrust one end of the branding iron into the heart of the flames, leaving the other end resting on the hearth. He returned and bent to untie Draco's ankles from the bedpost, instead tying them to each other with a forearm's length of nylon so Draco was effectively hobbled. Finally he untied Draco's wrists and used the attached cords to pull Draco to his feet and lead him into the next room, up to the manacles on the wall of the shower. He closed the metal rings around Draco's wrists and ankles, leaving the Velcro cuffs in place beneath them. He gave Draco a long drink from the canteen. He looked at Draco, whose face was to the wall, and sighed. This is the worst part. I want to get through it as quickly as possible, but if I don't increase the sensations gradually, I won't be able to give him as much pain as he wants and needs. With another sigh, he set to work.

First he used a flat paddle to beat Draco on the buttocks, carefully increasing the strength of the blows, varying their speed and angle. Bring the blood to the surface of the skin. Make his nerves begin to throb. Then he dragged a Muggle cricket bat harshly over the reddened skin, watching carefully as his lover shivered and trembled at the pain he was causing. Then he used a cane and a whip on Draco's back. Draco hung his head, leaning into the blows, seeming to savor them. Harry gave him another sip of water, and moved his hands over Draco's shivering body, finding pressure points all up and down the elegant spine, digging his fingers into Draco's neck and making him gasp with agony. If I have to hurt him, this is the way I prefer to do it. It's more...personal. All these ghastly toys! I long for the day when we can throw them away. When Draco can fuck me, as I'll fuck him tonight. But I can't think about that now or I'll get distracted and make a mistake. More whipping, for an excruciatingly long time, increasing the strength of each blow. Finally, Draco began to scream. I think, from the sounds he's making, he's almost ready for the worst. A few more hard strokes of the whip, just to make certain. I need to get more proficient with this type of whip, I've messed up his ribs rather badly...

Leaving Draco gasping against the wall, Harry fetched his wand and the branding iron from the other room. Holding one in each hand, he quickly cast the spell that would dampen his sense of smell and prevent him from becoming nauseous. Then, without warning, he pressed the red-hot iron against Draco's ribs, branding him with his family's own crest, making his flesh curl and sizzle. Draco gave an awful shriek, followed by sobbing. "Again," he begged. Harry pressed the iron in a second spot, just below the first, and dug it in, hard. Draco arched his back in agony and lost control of his bowels; neither he nor Harry paid any attention. "Two more ought to do it," Draco murmured, and Harry burned his lover twice more, as he screamed and gasped. "Yes. My love, you've wrecked me. I'm ready for you. Oh, love..." Draco collapsed against the wall, almost insensible with pain.

Harry threw the branding iron to one side. Working quickly, he healed the four oozing patches of burned skin and closed the worst of the whip wounds. He turned on the shower and let the water drum harshly against Draco's pain-sensitized skin while it cleaned the blood and shit from both their bodies. He unfastened the manacles and lifted Draco's swooning body and carried him out to the bed, where he laid him flat on his face, diagonally. With a few quick twists he tied the cords on Draco's wrists to the right upper bedpost and the cords on his ankles to the left lower. Almost perfect. He's conscious, but totally strung out. He ought to be able to feel this pretty intensely. Harry hastily doused himself with lubricant and crawled above Draco's body and thrust himself into Draco, harshly, without tenderness or finesse. "Yes! Harry!" As Harry began to move inside his lover, Draco moaned his name over and over in a low, hoarse voice, and it was the sexiest sound Harry had ever heard. This is the part that makes it all worthwhile. He's as delightfully tight as always. Let's see how long I can make this last. As it turned out, Harry was able to prolong his own pleasure and Draco's for uncounted minutes of gasping bliss, until Draco finally lost consciousness, as Harry had hoped he would. Feeling his lover collapse and go limp beneath him, Harry allowed himself to come inside Draco with a series of ecstatic shudders.

After a few moments of rest, Harry drew himself out of Draco and rolled off his lover's tortured body. "Oblivion," he murmured, with sad satisfaction. He knew Draco might be out for several hours before he moved into a more normal sleep; he had learned that once Draco's tortured brain got a taste of the oblivion it so obviously craved, it hung onto it tenaciously. Thus it was easy for Harry to remove Draco's restraints, and heal the rest of Draco's wounds, so there would be no permanent damage, and sip some juice and eat some protein himself, and brush his teeth, and return to the bed to wrap himself around his sleeping lover. The crucial final phase of making love to Draco was being there when he awoke...

In this case it was almost dawn before Draco awoke fully. He stretched and his long eyelashes fluttered and he smiled to discover himself held tightly in Harry's strong arms. "I felt every inch of you. Every stroke, every thrust," Draco murmured triumphantly. "I love you so much." Harry had the canteen ready, and Draco sipped from it greedily. "Thank you," Draco said with a sigh. "For everything. I only wish..."

"Shhh," Harry said. "Don't think about that now." And the two of them drifted back to sleep.

+++

Harry realized it had been their first fight. And Draco had won.

For several years now, both Harry and Hermione had celebrated Christmas with Ron. Hermione's family were Muggles, and Harry was an orphan, but Ron's family made up for both shortcomings by being large and boisterous and thoroughly magical. Harry usually joined the Weasleys at Midwinter and stayed throughout the holidays, whereas Hermione usually spent Christmas Eve with her family and arrived on Christmas Day. This year Harry knew the friends' long-planned reunion would be doubly precious since they'd been separated for the entire summer and fall. He'd been looking forward to it throughout his heart-wrenching summer. Now that he was so happy, he was looking forward to it even more, but he also felt torn in two.

Harry wanted to see his friends, and he also wanted to celebrate his first Christmas with Draco. The perfect solution would be for him to bring Draco as his partner to the Weasleys' house party. Hermione was bringing Seamus, and Mrs. Weasley had confirmed that there would be plenty of magically enlarged accommodations (for Bill's and Charlie's growing families) and that Draco would be more than welcome.

Draco had refused the invitation.

All Harry's protestations had been unable to change his mind. The terrible question, "Are my friends not good enough for a Malfoy?" had hovered in the air.

In light of Draco's stubborn refusal, Harry had offered to stay home with Draco and the boys for most of the holiday. He could Apparate over to the Weasleys', alone, on Christmas Day, perhaps stay for Boxing Day, but he'd spend far less time away from Malfoy Manor.

Draco had refused the offer.

During this second round of their argument the terrible question that hovered was, "Have you tired of me already?"

Neither terrible question had been uttered, but both of them had trembled behind Harry's lips. Draco was acting more peculiarly and inexplicably than Harry had ever known him to act, which (since much of his behavior during the summer had been inexplicable to Harry at the time) was saying a lot.

"Fine! I'll go...without you!"

"I think that's best," Draco had said calmly. "You'll go on your visit, as planned. I'll spend a quiet Midwinter with my mother. It's what we're...used to."

"Can we see in the New Year together?" Harry hoped he had succeeded in keeping the pout out of his voice.

"That would be delightful."

"And you'll make sure the boys have a good Christmas?"

"I always have," Draco said with a smile.

Glorious post-argument sex followed.

Still, Harry brooded about what he could have done differently, whether there was any better way he could have handled Draco's stubbornness, right up until Draco walked him out to the herb garden as the light failed on Midwinter's Day. Harry was wearing his warmest cloak and carrying his valise and his portfolio. Once they reached the spot where they had first declared their love, Draco took Harry in his arms. He's...trembling. It feels like he really is going to miss me. Draco kissed Harry so passionately that Harry put down his luggage so he could return the kisses with sufficient vigor. Maybe he's as sorry we fought, as I am. "I'll miss you, and think of you every hour," Harry said aloud. "Every minute."

"Me too," Draco murmured.

"There's still time for you to change your..." Harry began to say, but Draco put his finger to Harry's lips.

"Shhh. No. Just...know that I love you. I owe all the happiness of my life to you." Draco sighed and Harry felt his strong fingers tighten. "I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been."

Harry looked quizzically into Draco's face. "This isn't farewell forever. It's only going to be a week!"

Draco smiled. He's so handsome. I must remember him, all week, just like this. "Have a happy Christmas, Harry."

"You too, Draco." After one more heartfelt kiss, Harry picked up his valise and his portfolio and Apparated.

+++

It was a delight for Harry to arrive at Ron's family's home, The Burrow. Hermione and Seamus and the two eldest Weasleys and their wives and children weren't expected until Christmas Day, but Harry was warmly greeted by Ron's parents, Ron's brother Percy and his wife Penelope, Ron's twin brothers, George and Fred, Ron, and Ron's youngest sister Ginny, all of whom (except Penelope, the Weasley by marriage) seemed to have even redder hair than he'd remembered. During the family's informal Midwinter supper the twins teased Harry just as if he was their sibling. This was a mixed blessing, Harry decided wryly. During my quiet months with Draco and the boys, I've gotten out of practice.

"Explain this again, Harry," George said. "It's been six months since you left Hogwarts, and you're gay--and married--with two kids?"

"It's a miracle," Fred said solemnly.

"Sort of," Harry said, blushing. "It has been miraculous, actually."

"What made you tie yourself up so quickly?" George just wouldn't drop it. Actually, I tie him up, Harry thought. But that's too much information.

"Harry, show them your portrait of Draco," Ron said loyally. "He's so good-looking."

Fred smirked. "Not you, too, ickle Ronniekins!"

"For a guy," Ron said crossly.

"Not so little any more," Harry said with a provocative smile. "Speaking of which, it's time for Ron and I to challenge the two of you to our annual wrestling match. Outside, after supper, best two out of three. We can take these shrimps this year, can't we, Ron?"

"I expect we can," said Ron, with his own smile back in place.

The next day, Ron and Harry rushed through their share of the holiday chores and Apparated to London. The tall young men with the broad shoulders and infectious smiles turned heads in the Muggle clothing stores that Harry insisted they visit, as well as in Diagon Alley. Neither of them had ever had any money of his own, and it was a delight to spend their own earnings on Christmas presents for people they loved. Since Moor House was providing him with a modest but reliable income, Harry felt free to spend the last of his tutor's salary on a series of presents that were as extravagant as he thought his friends would accept.

He didn't neglect Vittorio and Angelo, either; Ron helped him choose a large set of magical toy soldiers, which were gift-wrapped and dispatched to Malfoy Manor with a loving note.

"What if they fight over them?" Ron asked.

Harry grinned. "That's part of the point of the gift. I've been trying to teach them that there are some things they have to share. Also, Vittorio--he's the one who still remembers their parents--has had to grow up too fast. He's so grave and solemn, always worrying and listening to staff gossip. I wanted a present that would let him feel like a kid for at least a few hours, playing with his little brother."

Ron punched Harry's arm playfully. "You sound like a father already! I hate to agree with George, but it's all happened so fast!"

Harry laughed. "Yes, it has. And I've never been happier."

"What are you going to get...him?" Ron was frankly curious. "What can you get the man who has everything?"

"Already taken care of," Harry said smugly. "Several months ago I commissioned Neville to write a new piano concerto, and dedicate it to Draco. Neville promised me that it would arrive by owl no later than Christmas Eve."

Ron was impressed. "Brilliant."

"Of course, Draco doesn't play an instrument himself," Harry said with a sigh. "And Neville's pieces take a lot of work."

"You don't have to tell me that," Ron murmured. "I've heard you cursing them. Never where Neville could hear you, of course, you were always careful about that."

"So, the minute I get back I'll start learning it. I hope Draco will get to hear what it sounds like before the fruit trees bloom in the spring..."

Ron shook his head. "If I ever get as sappy as you...well, it would surprise me, that's all. What do you suppose he got you?"

"I don't know," Harry murmured. "I've got a small package in my valise. I guess I'll open it with the other presents."

The best part of Christmas Day was seeing Hermione again. And his boisterous former roommate Seamus looked so solemn and grown up, proudly holding Hermione's hand and kissing her under the mistletoe. It was a glorious reunion. The only awkwardness Harry felt came when everyone was opening presents, and he tore open his package from Draco.

Just the sight of his lover's strong, slanting handwriting made him feel dizzy with the strength of his longing for Draco, and his desire for them to be together. Next Christmas for sure, he thought to himself. Then he realized that he couldn't share the letter with his friends: not only was it was sexy and personal, but Draco's Christmas present to Harry seemed like it would be costly indeed. I've been so wrapped up in sex that I'd almost forgotten how wealthy Draco is and, well, how arrogant he sounds. I mean, how this letter would sound to someone who didn't know him as I do. I know he's just using that masterful tone because it turns me on, but I don't know if I could explain it to anyone else...

Harry's long, thoughtful perusal of the letter had attracted Hermione's attention. "What'd your partner get you?" she asked merrily.

"We're going on a trip," said Harry with a smile. Hot springs, beaches, hiking in the mountains...out of the way hotels, both Muggle and magical...a whole month, just the two of us. It'll be heaven. "For now, though, he got me this...carving."

"Let's see it," murmured Seamus, taking the small, ridged stone from Harry's hand with a professional air. He worked in the Division of Magical Artifacts. "Maori workmanship. A charm that enhances sexual potency, I believe." Amidst the twins' ferocious giggles, Harry received the stone back. It's from New Zealand. Where we'll be going on our trip. And just in case I think the trip is no more than an escape, Draco gave me this carving to reassure me that he's still working on a cure. He sighed. Anyway, that's what I think it means. I'm so lucky. He looked around. I'm lucky to have such good friends, too. I've missed them so much! Somehow, no matter what problems I had at Hogwarts, talking them over with Ron and Hermione helped me see them in perspective, and decide what to do. In fact... His hand closed decisively around the Maori charm.

Harry waited until after the elaborate Christmas dinner, until after the games of charades and cards, until Bill's and Charlie's lively children had gone to bed and all the adult Weasleys and their guests were modeling new jumpers and slippers or reading new books or sneaking leftovers from the covered dishes in the kitchen. Harry asked Hermione and Ron if he could talk to them privately.

"This is like old times," Ron said with a smile. "My bedroom?"

"Can Seamus join us?" Hermione blushed. "I don't have many secrets from him any more."

Harry thought for a minute. "I seem to remember he can keep his mouth shut, when it's important. Bring him, by all means."

Ron and Harry were the first to arrive in Ron's old bedroom and take up positions sitting cross-legged on Ron's bed. Harry looked up at the Chudley Cannons as they flew around within an old tattered poster. "You should really get the latest team photo," Harry said. "I hear the Cannons have some great new players this year." It's fun to make Ron blush, especially when it's with happiness and pride.

Just then Hermione and Seamus arrived and sat together on the opposite bed. Seamus put everyone at ease by saying, "I'm honoured to be included in a council of the Gryffindor Trio. Is there an initiation?"

Harry smiled. "If there is one, we'll let Hermione administer it, where you're concerned." All four of them laughed. "But I'll ask all three of you to keep this a dead secret. Will you?"

"Of course," said Hermione, and the other two nodded.

Harry looked down, meditatively twisting his wedding ring. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and firm. "I've been raving about my partner, Draco, and everything I've told you is true. He loves me, and I'm very happy. But there's a problem with sex."

"Harry, I can handle you being gay, but I don't want to hear the gory details," Ron said with a mock shudder.

Harry looked at him thoughtfully. Gory. I'm certainly not going to tell him anything about that. "No details," he said firmly. "Well, just one detail really. Draco's and my sex life is...unusual, because...Draco is impotent. And has been for years."

"Whoa." Seamus was plainly staggered by Harry's frankness. "I knew I was right about that charm, but it sounds like your lover needs it, not you! How old is Draco, then?"

"He's our age," Hermione said briskly. "Far too young to have this kind of problem, I would have thought."

Ron focused on a different point. "Did you know, Harry? When you married him?"

Harry sighed. "No."

"What a bastard!" Ron said, his misgivings about gay sex clearly forgotten in his stronger concern for Harry.

"Well, there were clues and hints, but I didn't pick them up. But it wouldn't have made any difference. We love each other." Harry took a deep breath. "Draco says he's been tested by mediwizards and his body is all right. And I must say it seems as if it is--okay Ron, no details. He says the problem is in his mind. Naturally I've been brooding about this, and I have two questions I hope you can help with." The other three leaned forward. "First question. The best explanation for the problem I can come up with, is a spell or a curse. Either something that's been cast on Draco personally, or an inherited family problem. How can I tell if that's what it is? And my second question is, no matter what the cause is, do any of you know anything I can do to help him get over this?"

"Besides just being as sexy as possible," Seamus said with a gleam in his eye. "Which I see you're already doing. No one's mentioned your clothes or your hair or your muscles, but you're looking terrific, Harry. Marriage clearly agrees with you." Harry blushed.

"Besides that," he said. "What should I do? What can I do?" All eyes turned to Hermione, long acknowledged as the foremost intellect of the team. She didn't disappoint them.

"Seamus, if you would stop hitting on Harry for just one minute, I have some ideas."

Seamus put up his hands, laughing. "Darling, I'm just being supportive of Harry and Draco."

"I'm glad that's all it is." She sighed. "Harry, your idea of a curse seems the most likely explanation. But you also know how awful his family is. And it's well known that Dark magic exacts a price from wizards who practice it. They often end up trading their physical health, their ability to feel human, for more magical power. And sex is the most human activity there is; it makes sense that it'd be affected. So it could be either a curse or a side effect of the use of Dark magic."

Losing the ability to feel. As a side effect. That's exactly what has happened to Draco! Harry looked miserable. "I don't feel the Dark in Draco. I've already told you that," he said stubbornly.

"Obviously not," said Hermione. "I know, at least I hope I know, that you wouldn't have bound yourself to him otherwise. But we have to consider the possibility. He was first of his year at Durmstrang," she murmured for Seamus' benefit, before turning back to face Harry. "He may be practicing Dark magic secretly, or someone in his family may have made some kind of terrible bargain in the past, so that Draco's feeling its effects. Is there anything else...unusual about him?"

Harry nodded. "This summer, when I fell in love with him, he was sick. In a lot of pain. But none of the staff would tell me why."

"Well, that's more support for your theory that it's a curse or a spell. But he's fighting it?"

Harry nodded again, still looking unhappy. "He says he is. He says he's working on a solution. I just feel so helpless."

"Let me guess," Ron said. "You asked him how you could help and he said you couldn't."

Harry sighed. "Ron, you're two for two tonight. That's exactly what happened."

"You're sounding so calm and grown up about this," Ron said. "You always used to be so shy about sex."

I was. But not any more. Oh, Ron, you wouldn't believe... Harry smiled sadly. "Just because I didn't want to hear the details of your sex life, you thought I was shy. Now who's shy?"

"Well, you were," murmured Ron.

Hermione broke in briskly. "I'm with you, Harry, there's got to be something you can do. If Draco is suffering from a mental block caused by a spell or a curse, a potion may well be able to remove the block temporarily. Getting rid of it permanently is a more serious and tricky problem, but for diagnostic purposes, the first step is for me to send you a few potions that Draco can try. If any of them works, then we'll know where we are and we can take the next logical step. If they don't work, that means a connection with Dark magic is more likely. And of course for your sake, Harry, I hope that's not the way it goes. Let's hope one of the potions does the trick."

Harry's smile was blinding. "Hermione, I'd be so grateful. Even a temporary fix would...help a lot."

Now Hermione looked stern. "These potions are too strong for routine use. They'll be for diagnostic, not recreational, purposes. Try each one just once and let me know whether any of them have any noticeable effects."

"Hey!" Ron held up his hand. "No details, Hermione, that means you too!"

"Hermione, how can I ever thank you?"

"Don't thank me until I've done something. As soon as I get back to my lab, I'll send you an assortment of the strongest elixirs that affect the mind in ways that might help Draco fight a curse or spell. Expect them shortly after New Year's, as I'm on holiday until then."

As Seamus looked at Hermione with the googly-eyed stare that meant he was more than usually impressed by his girlfriend's brilliance and decisiveness, Harry jumped off the bed and pulled Hermione to her feet and enveloped her in a warm hug. "Thank you anyway," he murmured. "I'll feel so much better just trying something. Anything."

Ron just looked relieved that the conversation hadn't gotten graphic. "If we've got Harry's plan of action all settled, how about some hot cider," he said.

"With liquor in it," Seamus suggested as he too stood up.

+++

I've missed this place. I've missed him. I had a great holiday, but it's so good to be home. Harry arrived in the herb garden outside Malfoy Manor on the morning of the twenty-seventh. He wasn't surprised that no one was in the garden to meet him, because Draco wasn't expecting him back until late afternoon. But he'd missed Draco so intensely that he'd torn himself away from the Weasleys' hospitality soon after breakfast. It was glorious to stride in the side door of Malfoy Manor, the house that he'd once thought was so forbidding and sad, that was now the center of his greatest happiness.

The house was extraordinarily quiet.

Harry had become used to the muted but steady background hum of life at Malfoy Manor: the boys playing or studying, the halls full of staff members doing chores and errands. Was everyone on holiday leave?

He took the stairs two at a time, all the way up to his own suite of rooms, where he dropped his valise and his portfolio and his cloak. He left again immediately, in search of his lover. Where would Draco be at this time of day? Would he even be home? Wherever he was right now, could Harry send him an owl and tell him to come home? Harry's nerves thrummed with anticipation.

The hall outside Harry's room was quiet. He took the steps back down, three at a time. He surprised Grace as she was coming out of her office.

"Grace!" Harry was so glad to be back, he greeted Grace unusually warmly. But she looked guilty and sad.

"Harry. I'm glad you're back. Come into my office, please."

"Grace, what's the matter?" Harry followed her into her study and threw himself onto a comfortable sofa. Grace sat heavily behind her desk. Her tone was somber.

"It's Fairfax's place to tell you this, but she's still in London, and won't be back for another hour. We were expecting you this afternoon. So I'll have to break it to you."

"What? Grace, you're scaring me."

"Mister Malfoy is very ill."

"What?" Harry was both horrified and extremely angry. "You could have owled me! I would have come back immediately."

"His orders." Grace couldn't meet Harry's eyes.

"Where is he now? How is he?"

"Master bedroom," Grace murmured. "He's delirious, though, so--" But Harry didn't hear her; he'd already vaulted out of her office and flown up the stairs.

Harry had never spent any time in Draco's own suite of rooms; he had the impression that Draco himself didn't care for them. Now Harry walked through room after room until he found the one whose centerpiece was a large bed with black and silver draperies. With one of Narcissa's nurses sitting attentively by the side of his bed, Draco lay on his back, with his eyes closed. His black satin pyjamas were creased and rumpled, his skin was even more pale than usual, there were deep shadows under his eyes, and his hair lay lank against black satin pillows. Harry's heart sank. Those shadows under his eyes. They're like the ones he had the first night I played for him. Only worse. He whispered to the nurse, "Is he conscious?"

"Off and on," she murmured.

He pulled up a chair to sit beside her.

"What's the matter with him?"

"They haven't told me. I just respond if he calls for anything. Sometimes he seems thirsty and asks for water. He hasn't eaten for days."

"What do the mediwizards say?" Harry was grilling her, he realized. Damn it, Draco's my partner. Lover. Husband. If I don't have the right, who does?

The nurse shook her head. "We haven't consulted one."

"What?" Harry was horrified.

"Mister Malfoy's orders."

Harry gritted his teeth. "I'm getting just a bit tired of those orders." He rose and walked around to the other side of the bed. Gently, his heart breaking with fear for his lover, he sat on the bed and reached under the covers and took Draco's right hand in his own. It was cold, and Draco sighed and shifted his head slightly, without opening his eyes.

"Mother," Draco said in a slurred voice. "I'm the stronger. Don't be afraid."

Harry looked at the nurse. "Delirium?"

"Off and on," she murmured.

"Harry," murmured Draco fretfully. "Don't tell him. He'll only worry."

You've got that right. Anger and sorrow struggled together in Harry's heart. No proper medical care. Suffering in silence. Draco is so stubborn! I have to find out what's wrong. He sighed. If this is a curse or a spell, that would explain why he doesn't call for a mediwizard. Especially if it's a Dark spell. I think the first step is to get him conscious. Even if he won't tell me the cause, he must know how best to treat himself. Keeping Draco's cold hand in his own, he turned to the nurse. "Have you seen him like this before?"

"Yes," the nurse whispered. "But not for this long."

"How long has it been?"

"Six days," she murmured. "Three of us have been taking shifts, around the clock."

"If you've seen this before...do you think it's safe to move him?"

She looked frightened. "I don't know. There are no broken bones, but...everything hurts, I think."

Still holding Draco's hand, Harry looked sternly at her. "You think?"

She dropped her eyes. "Mrs. Malfoy gets this too. That's what she says. No broken bones, no torn muscles. Everything just...hurts."

"Why aren't you with her then?"

She shrugged. "She's all right, this time. I think Draco...took it for her. I heard them talking."

"This time? Took what?" Harry wished his eyes could bore into the nurse's skull.

She hung her head. "I don't know. They don't tell us. All we know is to be ready."

"Be ready?"

"For the solstices." She shrugged again.

Idiot! Harry berated himself, as the knowledge in his head rearranged itself in new and frightening patterns. He thought of Vittorio's words, the day he first met Draco: "Midsummer and Midwinter. Like clockwork, Poole says. But he never stays long." Like clockwork. That explains our fight. Why he wouldn't join me at the Weasleys' party. His illness strikes him at Midwinter and Midsummer, and he didn't want me to be here. He raised Draco's cold hand to his lips, and noticed how his lover's spicy scent seemed muted and sickly and stale. It comes on suddenly, too. On Midsummer Day he looked so good. He says that was the last day he got hard, even. And he said farewell to me late in the afternoon on Midwinter, and he seemed fine then. It must be sudden. Harry gasped. This explains why he was so odd when we were kissing each other goodbye. He acted as if he was saying goodbye for a much longer period. He knew this was going to happen. Or he feared it would. Damn him! No, I don't mean that. Anyway, it seems as if he's damned already without me wishing it. Just, damn!

Harry gently put Draco's hand back under the bedclothes, and stood up. The nurse shrank back from what she saw in his face as he strode past her and out of the room.

The bedroom he and Draco shared was as clean as they had left it. He opened all the shades and cast a freshening charm on the air and propped the door open. In the shower, he cast a spell of concealment over the manacles. In the main room, he locked both of the wardrobes with a charm linked to himself personally. And then he went in search of Mrs. Fairfax.

He found her in her sitting room, staring into the fire. She looked up as he entered, but her face didn't change. Harry didn't say anything, just stood with his arms crossed, waiting for her to speak.

After a short battle of wills she sighed and looked away. "I've obeyed orders at Malfoy Manor since before you were born, young man. I will obey them until I die. But this is the worst I've ever seen him. Mister Potter, I'm glad you're home."

It's not for me, this time. It's for Draco. Harry was not surprised to hear the calm strength in his own voice. "Your care for Mister Malfoy's orders has interfered with your care for Mister Malfoy himself." He lifted his left hand and touched his ring significantly. "Until Draco is well again, I will give orders in his name. You can tell the others they're his wishes if it makes it easier."

She sighed. "And the orders are?"

"I gather he fell ill on the twenty-first. Did the Manor celebrate Christmas?"

"Very quietly. Many of the staff spent the holiday with their own families, but we had a small party for the boys."

"Good."

Fairfax murmured, "Poole and I would never leave, even if Mister Malfoy were not ill. This is our home, too."

"My first order is, let's return our home to its regular routines. This unnatural quiet, as if there's been a death in the house, is not helping Draco recover. There needs to be life here for him to come back to."

"All right," Fairfax said.

"Second, I'm moving Draco to our shared bedroom. Until he is well, it will no longer be off limits. The staff may vacuum and dust as they do the rest of the house, or I'm happy to clean it, but that's where Draco is going to recuperate." Harry smiled wryly. "I know there has been talk about how I've seduced Draco, when of course, he actually seduced me. But now it's my turn. I'm going to seduce him...back to health. And I'm going to need everyone's help." She took a scroll and quill out of her pocket and took notes as he explained his plans in detail.

The nurse gave a start when Harry reappeared in Draco's bedroom. "How is he now?" Harry asked.

"Unconscious," the nurse said.

"Get me a fresh sheet," Harry said. Tenderly he pulled Draco's limp body out from under the covers and laid him on the sheet the nurse had brought. Together, he and the nurse carefully removed Draco's black silk pyjamas and wrapped the sheet around his body. "He so needs a shower," Harry murmured. "Once I take him to our bedroom, you and your colleagues are off duty for the rest of the day. Get plenty of rest; I may need you again tomorrow. Where are his fresh pyjamas?"

The nurse showed him.

"The white cotton, I think. Thank you, just put them on top. Now, would you get the door, please?" Carrying Draco tenderly in his arms, Harry left the gloomy suite behind.

In their shared bedroom, Harry's first task was to give Draco a long, hot shower. He removed his own clothes and supported his lover, who was still barely conscious, as he washed his body all over. I've missed you so much. I know you can't really perceive what's going on, but we're going to work on that. Even though you're delirious and in pain, I'm so glad to be here with you, where I belong. It was a delight to soap Draco's body and shampoo his soft hair and hold him upright, tenderly, to wash all the soap off. No marks on his body that I can see. It's just like the other time...clearly some kind of magical injury. Finally Harry dried his lover, put on clean pyjamas of Egyptian cotton, and tucked him into fresh white satin sheets under the mint-green brocade coverlet. Harry watched as the sunlight streamed through the tall windows and fell all around his lover's body, making Draco's white-blond hair glisten. He looks better already. Well, no, actually he doesn't, yet. But he's going to. Harry finished dressing himself just as Hopkins arrived with folding furniture on a wheeled cart.

"Here, Mister Potter?" She gestured to the middle of the room.

"Over there, next to the window, thank you, Carol," said Harry. "When it's just the two of us, call me Harry, as you used to. When you were helping the new tutor get his bearings."

"Okay. Harry." She was briskly setting up the table with two chairs and a set of table linens. "How's Mister Malfoy?" She glanced over at the bed with a compassionate look on her face.

"Not well," Harry murmured. "Which is why I've brought him in here."

As she worked, she looked around the room. "It's lovely, and you two gentlemen have kept it very clean, but it's nothing like what I expected. The book on Mister Malfoy is that his sex life before he met you was, you know, ultra kinky. So I'd expected this room to be more of a--"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Carol." Harry tried to sound aggrieved, but he figured his grin probably ruined the effect. "Whatever you expected, from now on this room is the heart of the house," Harry said. "Everyone is welcome to visit, especially if they have an idea that will help, ah, Mister Malfoy get better. Spread the word."

"A pleasure," said Hopkins. "Meanwhile, luncheon is in the dumbwaiter now. All that suitable-for-an-invalid food you ordered." She bustled into and back out of the small pantry and began to arrange dishes on the table by the window.

Harry lifted the tureen of beef broth and poured some of it into a teacup. "Carol, you could participate in some kinky behavior right now, if you'd be so kind. If you'll support his back, I'm going to bully Mister Malfoy into drinking this."

When they woke him, Draco still seemed delirious. Harry pulled his torso upright, and Hopkins supported it while Harry held the back of Draco's head gently with one hand, and with the other, brought the teacup to Draco's lips.

"Don't tell Harry," Draco begged them, a bit wildly.

"I won't, if you finish your broth," Harry said gently.

Cut-up chicken followed the beef broth, at an excruciatingly slow pace, but Draco chewed and swallowed as he was told, and finally he asked for water, and drank deeply of it. As Harry let Draco's body fall back into the bed, Hopkins shuddered.

"Thank you so much, Carol," Harry murmured.

"I never realized he could be so human. I see how he needs you, so don't you forget to eat," she said gruffly, trying to hide her emotion. "If you don't want me to disturb him when I clear away, just put the dishes in the dumbwaiter. Otherwise, ring as usual." And she was gone.

His heart torn between hope and fear, Harry ate his own luncheon hurriedly, watching his lover sleep, and then lay down next to Draco, holding him tightly. Draco woke and looked at Harry, seeming to see him for the first time. "My love," he murmured.

"Draco, I love you so much," Harry said. That's really all I need to say.

"My love...I've been so stupid," Draco said softly.

"Don't think about that now," said Harry. "Just get better. Let me know what you need and I'll get it. Or we'll do it."

Draco sighed. "If it was anyone but you--I couldn't bear--"

"But it is me," said Harry firmly, and with a sigh Draco nestled against him and went back to sleep.

+++

At first Draco was so weak and dizzy that he couldn't even walk to the bathroom without Harry's help. So Harry escorted him, and made sure he ate regularly, and allowed him plenty of rest, and answered him lovingly when he made sense, and also when he didn't. Several times a day Harry and the staff masseuse worked on Draco's pain-weakened body, trying to make it feel as good as possible.

And Harry filled the bedroom with life. On the second day after his return Harry asked Fairfax to try to meet with Draco as usual about estate business. During the first few meetings she merely spoke and Draco listened, with his head tossing on the pillow, but eventually he resumed making decisions. Every afternoon Harry invited Vittorio and Angelo to play with their toy soldiers on the rug, or demonstrate their proficiency at Italian. The nurses sat with Draco while Harry continued his workouts or practiced Neville's new concerto (which he had retrieved from Draco's pile of unopened Christmas gifts), and the staff came up with a surprising number of interesting distractions. And outside the room Malfoy Manor once again hummed with activity.

"Hopkins says everyone has to be cheerful to make Mister Malfoy get better," Vittorio said. "That's why Angelo and I are being cheerful."

"That's good," Harry said. "You two are helping a lot."

As soon as Draco could stagger more than a few feet at a time, Harry took him on short walks. Narcissa seemed radiantly glad (in her pale way) to see her son; Harry let them speak in private. Harry carried Draco down the stairs, until he could manage them, so that the lovers could walk in the wintry gardens, talking of the additions and improvements Draco planned to make in the future, both of them wrapped up against the cold. They resumed their evenings in the drawing room, Harry playing the piano for Draco for as long as his lover could sit upright. Harry encouraged Draco to visit the dragons, as well, but Draco refused.

"I can't let them see me like this," Draco murmured, as he and Harry lay in bed together. "They admire strength and strength alone. The other researchers are working with them; I told them to expect me to be gone for a while."

"You told the dragons, and your colleagues, but you didn't tell me." Harry didn't try to conceal the hurt in his voice.

"I hoped...Harry, I'm sorry. I still can't tell you." Draco had the grace to look abashed.

"Still," Harry continued. "If we can get you well, you should be fine, now, until Midsummer."

"No comment," Draco said, closing his eyes and turning on his side to signal the conversation was over. Harry sighed and wrapped his arms around him. After a minute, Draco relaxed into Harry's embrace. His next words were muffled in the pillow.

"What did you say?"

"I asked, when can we make love again? If we can ever get any privacy! You've turned this bedroom into a train station."

"I'm confident we can exclude them all again when it's time," Harry said firmly. "And it's been good for the staff to see this place, even briefly. To see that it's not...scary. Cuts down on the wild stories."

"Malfoys have always led using fear. Scary can be quite useful." Draco sounded as if he was smiling.

"You can keep scaring people if you want; I'm not trying to stop you. And I'll ask for what I need, in love. Think of us as a team."

"Sex, Harry. You dodged my question."

Harry took a deep breath. "Are you still in pain?"

"Rather a lot, actually."

"There's your answer. When you're free of pain, we'll have sex. I don't want to get the different kinds of agony mixed up."

Draco laughed. "The only good thing about all this horror, is that I've gotten to see some amazing new aspects of my lover." Now his voice sounded amazed. "Tough. Creative. Decisive. I was afraid that I wasn't going to recover, this time, but...you're healing me. Again."

"Shhh, Draco. Time to sleep."

Finally the morning came when Draco felt strong enough to return to work with the dragons. As he watched Draco stride away in his heavy winter cloak, Harry felt something relax inside him, a muscle that had wound up tight at the sight of Draco unconscious, that he'd been holding all this time. That was so frightening. Still, we're together, and we've fallen more deeply in love than ever. But I can't stand another bout of this mysterious illness. I'm going to find out what this is all about or die trying. Hermione's diagnostic potions had arrived by owl, just as she'd promised, while Draco still lay tossing and turning, and Harry had stored them carefully in his room. Tonight. I must remember to tell Fairfax that our bedroom is once again private. And change the sheets.

+++

"What do you want to do after supper?" Draco asked, as Harry had hoped he would. "Sex, sex, or sex?"

"Sex, of course," Harry said with a broad smile. "In our bedroom, which I may say I have reclaimed. Let's start with snuggling and...see what develops." The lovers climbed the stairs, arm in arm, and threw the dead bolt on their once-again-private room, and undressed each other with lazy, erotic slowness. Before they crawled between sheets, Harry gave Draco a vial of clear liquid to drink.

"What's this?" Draco asked. "Smells like mint."

"Something for the next phase of your convalescence," Harry murmured. He'd thought this out carefully: if the potions didn't work, he didn't want Draco to be still sadder about his impotence than he already was, so he'd decided the best approach was to give him the potions without telling him what they were for. "Just drink it, Draco, and get in bed with me."

The habit of obedience that Draco had acquired during his illness was still operating; Draco shrugged and drained the vial in a single gulp. "You don't need to use a love potion on me, Harry. I love you already." He climbed between the sheets and took Harry in his arms.

"I love you too, Draco." They began kissing, pressing their bodies together from head to toe. I've missed this so much. Harry was thrilled that Draco once again smelled like his healthy self. He gave himself over to the delight of nuzzling his lover's neck and licking and sucking his collarbones. He felt himself hardening, and enjoyed the feeling of uncontrollable want and need that flooded his body, after the weeks of fear and restraint.

He felt Draco's arms trembling. Is he still in pain? Is this too soon?

"Harry," Draco said in a whisper. "Something's different. Feel."

He's hard. He's pressing into my body. I've never felt him like this before. And this means it's not a side effect of Dark magic, it's a curse or a spell and we can counter it somehow. Happiness flooded Harry, so that he felt weak from relief.

Draco seemed to misinterpret Harry's expression as one of puzzlement. "I'm almost afraid to look, but...I'm feeling again. As if all my dead nerve endings have been turned back on, suddenly."

"I'm not afraid to look," Harry said, pulling back so that he could look where he and Draco nestled against each other, both gloriously hard. He is...so beautiful... "My love! Mmmm, you're larger than I am. I'll try not to be jealous." Harry grinned triumphantly.

Draco closed his eyes in ecstasy for a moment, then opened them again. He ran his hands down Harry's body, breathing raggedly. "It's...so delicious. Every time I touch you, anywhere, I get harder. Every time you smile at me, oh yes, do that again...I almost can't bear it!"

"That's the way it is for me, too," said Harry shyly. "The way it's always been." His senses were swimming at the new intensity of Draco's caresses and the look in his lover's eyes.

For a long time neither of them spoke, but only touched each other, first gently, then more urgently, feeling the unaccustomed energy sizzling through their bodies in a loop that was, for the first time, reciprocal and complete.

As he continued to touch Harry, Draco shivered. "I wonder how long this miracle will last. Can I...come, do you suppose?"

"Let's find out," Harry said decisively. He broke away from Draco's arms to grab a bottle of lubricant from the bedside drawer. He squeezed a generous amount onto his hand and lifted his leg to apply the gelatinous stuff, wincing as his fingers pushed some of it inside. As he looked back at Draco, Harry saw that his lover's grey eyes were now dark with lust. "There's one way in which I'm still a virgin," he murmured. "I so want you to change that."

"Not any more than I want you, Harry." Draco took the small bottle. "It will delight me, to be your first. Again."

"Be gentle, if you can," Harry murmured as he watched Draco apply the lubricant to himself, his hands trembling a bit. "But if you can't, we can always use those healing spells." I want this so badly. It's the last barrier between us. Oh, Draco, I hope you can feel my whole body wanting you.

"On your back," said Draco, gently turning Harry over and moving his legs up and apart. "I want to see your face." Harry put his arms around Draco's neck and tried to relax. He felt the wetness of lubricant and Draco's fingers, followed after a moment by Draco pressing into him. He gasped. "Relax...push down and against me...that's right." Harry shivered, feeling his own desire surge as he felt Draco push in deeper, slowly but surely filling him. "You feel so good, Harry. Don't come yet," Draco murmured, almost gasping himself. "I'll tell you when. We'll come together."

This feels...perfect. It's violation, and completion, all at once. I could die, now. This is exactly what I wanted. No matter what, now I'm truly his forever. Draco was thrusting into Harry, and stroking Harry, and all of it was masterful. Harry felt more present in his body than he'd ever been, open to Draco's every caress, feeling every quiver of his own abandoned responses to his lover, and yet he also felt he was floating...

It had been no time at all, it had been forever, when Draco murmured, "Come for me now, Harry," and Harry felt himself falling, exploding with ecstasy. He shivered and contracted, uncontrollably, in a way that seemed to bring Draco in turn to orgasm. Harry felt his lover gasping and bucking and shuddering--so this is how it can be--when I was inside him Draco never came so I never realized--and it was all glorious.

For a long time the lovers didn't speak, couldn't speak, just held each other with tears of joy in their eyes. "Harry, oh Harry," Draco murmured, and for a long time it was enough. Finally Draco pulled out of Harry and they mopped each other with the sheets.

"You're very thorough," Harry murmured. "Any more and I'd have had problems walking tomorrow."

Draco smiled. "Perhaps that could be arranged. Despite the staff gossip it would cause, were you to stagger around as if you'd been well and truly fucked."

"They know," said Harry with a sigh. "They all know I'm yours. I'm not trying to hide that."

"Harry, I'm not an idiot," Draco said, firmly changing the subject. "I need to know all about that potion."

"Didn't fool you, then?" Harry murmured.

"Not for long, but it was such a glorious relief I just went with it instead of analyzing. How come you've come up with something to put me right, after I've been working on my, ah, problem for years?"

"Well, it was Hermione really," said Harry. And that was as far as he got before the door of the bedroom fell inward with a loud crash.

Harry turned toward the sound to see a tall stranger in dark robes striding towards the bed. He had an arrogant profile, blond hair, and a face twisted with rage and hatred.

"Father," Draco said, sitting up.

"My son," the man--Lucius Malfoy!?--said coldly. "Traitor. And sodomite, too, I see." He raised his wand.

Harry saw it all so clearly. He'd said he loved Draco more than his own life. He'd proved that in several ways, and here was just one more. With his body still in ecstasy from Draco's touch, inside and out, Harry threw himself in front of Draco. As if from a long way away he heard a voice say harshly, "Avada Kedavra." There was a blinding green flash, a shattering pain, and then nothing but darkness.

+++

Harry had the most intense headache he'd ever felt. And he felt as if he was going to be sick. But at least he was looking up into Draco's face. "Harry! You're all right!" Draco was wearing Harry's white bathrobe and holding him, shaking and crying with relief. Grace stood next to their bed, at Draco's side. Her tidy hair was disarranged, her face was streaky with tears and black soot, and she held a Muggle fire extinguisher. He thought she looked like an avenging angel.

Harry struggled to sit up. "What's going on?"

"You've been unconscious," Draco said. "If you're all right, lie still for one more minute." Draco and Grace were apparently in the middle of a conversation.

"He set fire to your mother's wing, and the fire burned for too long before we noticed it. Your mother is safe, and we've got it under control now, but it was touch and go." Grace seemed to be fighting her own tears of fear and strain. "Miranda...confronted him. He Stunned her and pushed her down the stairs. She's got a concussion and a broken leg, but she'll be all right, I've already sent for a mediwizard. And some of the staff have burns from fighting the fire."

"I'll let you get back to her. To them," Draco said. "I'm sorry I kept you this long."

Grace looked across the room at something Harry couldn't see. "I'm sorry about...everything, Mister Malfoy."

"Draco," said Draco softly.

"Draco," Grace repeated. "Take care of Harry, Draco. I'm going to Miranda, now, but one of us will be back later for your orders." She shuddered again as she walked out of Harry's line of sight.

Draco turned back to Harry. "My love," he said, holding Harry too tightly. "I thought he'd killed you. But somehow...Harry, there's blood on your face." Draco rubbed his fingers on Harry's forehead, causing a gentle crackling noise in Harry's skull.

"Ouch," Harry said. "Leave it for now. Tell me what's happening. I gather your--father--tried to burn down the Manor? I thought he was dead! And he was trying to kill us? You? What happened?"

"I'd give worlds to know," Draco said. "But there are a few things I do understand now..."

Despite his misery, Harry almost smiled. It's so ironic. Draco's going to answer some of my questions, and I'm feeling too sick to hear the answers. Aloud he said, "I feel like hell. Could we lie down again? And I need a drink of water." Draco brought him the canteen and pushed aside the twisted sheets, covering them both with a soft blanket. He lay as close as possible to Harry, holding him.

"Explanations," Draco said. "You deserve them, more than anyone, after what I've put you through. I still don't understand everything, but here's what I do know." Harry sighed and composed himself to listen, nestled in Draco's arms.

"My sexual problems, and my illnesses, are both side effects of a spell that my mother and I first cast six years ago. The spell kept my father imprisoned in the dungeons below Malfoy Manor. We've been renewing it twice a year, on the solstices." Draco shook head. "My father was a senior commander in Voldemort's Army of Darkness, and a very powerful wizard. The spell we've used to keep him imprisoned, and incommunicado, is horribly strong Dark magic, the only Dark spell I've used for years now. Each time we renew it, we have to give our own heart's blood, and accept a lot of...pain. That's why my tolerance is so high: I'm used to it. It's wrecked my mother's health, and this time, I was feeling so much stronger, partly because of our love, I thought I'd take all the pain on myself. And it was almost too much. And because I'd previously given detailed orders they left me to rot in that awful bedroom. If you'd hadn't healed me..."

"But I did," Harry murmured. "Go on."

"Well, there are three parts to the spell. Our hearts' blood, and our bodies' pain, are two of them. And finally, it has to be the deepest desire of our minds to keep him imprisoned. And that's what I think caused the impotence. My brain had to use all its energy on the spell. There was none left over. I couldn't ever relax my control."

"You're hard again now," Harry said. "Your, ah, brain seems to have recovered."

Draco smiled. "I hope it has! And now we come to your potion. Which I'm glad we used, by the way. I loved taking you, and the two of us coming together for the first time. I love you so much, Harry! I didn't think about the risks, I wanted you so badly..."

"Anyway, I think the potion relaxed me, so I could get hard. But it also disturbed the third component of the spell, so that my father was able to break free. He set fire to my mother's wing, and stunned Fairfax, and came to kill me. And now the mystery begins."

"Why did you imprison him in the first place?" Harry asked.

"Because I couldn't bring myself to kill him," Draco said. "Call me weak, but I couldn't kill my own father. My mother couldn't kill her husband. Later I'll tell you the whole story."

"I won't call you weak," Harry said, pulling his lover close. "No one could. But where is your father now?"

"Dead," Draco said quietly. "He tried to kill me, and you threw yourself between us, and he died, in a flash of green light. His body is right over there."

"He's dead?" Harry was horrified.

"He was going to kill us, Harry. I'm not sorry. I'm just not sure how it happened. And you took a crazy risk! Promise me you won't do that ever again!"

"I can't," Harry said. "It just felt...right."

Draco was silent for a moment. "Here's my best guess as to what happened. It's purely theoretical, it's never actually occurred, but the theorists say the only way to counter the killing curse is...with love. And the right kind of love wouldn't just counter the curse, they think it would reflect the curse back onto the person who cast it. We'll have to get your smart friend at the Ministry to help us figure this out for sure but..." Draco snapped his fingers. "That's how you got injured. This wound on your forehead is where the curse hit you, and for some reason, maybe because you are very much in love with me, much more than I deserve, I obviously had no idea how much...the curse bounced and killed my father instead."

"It's a good theory," Harry admitted.

"It's the only one that fits the facts. There isn't a mark on him, and that's how the killing curse leaves its victims. I know you're strong, and I'll continue to worship your muscles for hours on end, but no one is that strong, and I know you're innocent, I'll never forget that first evening, when your soul shone out of your green eyes and I started planning how to get closer to you, but I don't think it was your innocence either, I think it was just...love."

"I hope I won't have a scar there," Harry said.

"We'll get the mediwizard to look at it, but from what I know about Dark curses, and I was at Durmstrang, so I know quite a lot, I think you may have to resign yourself to a scar." Draco rubbed Harry's forehead again. "Yeah, a small one. It'll sort of...complete your face. Make you look mysterious and dashing and grown up. And every time I kiss you I'll remember that you would have died for me. That you tried to. I know that's what you were doing. No, you don't have to say anything. Just..."

The lovers' kiss seemed to last forever.

+++

Draco and Harry spent the next day arranging for Lucius Malfoy's belated burial and assessing the damage to Malfoy Manor. Grace and Harry and Draco stepped carefully through charred, waterlogged wreckage, while Fairfax magisterially directed the funeral arrangements from the couch in her office where she lay, convalescing. By the time the four of them met for an unusually informal supper, they were tired indeed, but not so tired that Harry wasn't anxious to hear the rest of Draco's story.

"Tell him everything, Draco," Grace murmured. Fairfax looked shocked. "The time for secrets is past."

"You're right, Grace," said Draco with a smile.

"I do not approve," said Fairfax, more magisterially than ever.

"It's not up to you," Draco said. "Harry and Grace and Vittorio and Angelo and I will be using first names, but we won't force you to do the same. Although, come to think of it, Fairfax, you're the closest relative my mother and I have." He sighed. "The family I was born into had...certain issues that you're more aware of than I. I've decided to add to my family, by choice. Call me what you want, but all three of you would have died for my mother and me, I see that now. We are family."

"Humph."

Fairfax having been temporarily silenced, Draco turned to Harry.

"When they didn't answer your questions, Fairfax and Grace were following my orders. Too many staff members had simply quit."

"It was the screaming," Grace explained. "Until Fairfax thought of soundproofing the dungeons, you could hear Mister Malfoy cursing, when the wind was right. He's got quite a command of invective. Full moons were the worst."

"Tutors were particularly sensitive, for some reason," said Fairfax with a wintry smile. "We went through them like ninepins."

"But how did this all start?" Harry was still puzzled. "My friend Hermione told me about your father's...military career, so you don't have to tell me that."

"All right, I won't. I'll sum it up by saying that he was a mass murderer. When I was a kid my mother justified his actions to me for a long time. I think she was trying to make herself believe that his cause was noble and worthwhile..." Harry didn't dare interrupt. Draco's voice was dripping with suppressed pain. "He used to do stuff...it was just cruel. He killed people for sport. One day he killed a wizard in our front hall, for no reason other than that the man had asked to visit our private museum on an afternoon when my father had a headache." Draco grimaced. "My father was gone a lot, and my mother used to let visitors see our collection. I guess this wizard had heard about that, all the way over in Italy, so when he was here for a research conference he came out to the house. And it was his bad luck that my father happened to be home."

Harry murmured, "You don't have to tell me details, if it's a painful memory."

But Draco went on doggedly. "It was just one of the many thousands of people he'd killed. I don't know why it was that particular murder that sent my mother over the edge. Maybe because it was so casual, or maybe because he did it in front of me. The, ah, victim and his wife had a three year old son, and they were expecting another. His wife never got over her husband's death, and she died in childbirth, in pain, in a country that was foreign to her." His voice was very low. "Their children had no living relatives. It was years before I could look at them without thinking of what my father had done, all over again. But I did what I could."

"And I love you for that. And I love them, of course." Harry said. "Go on."

"My mother and I had to do the spell together. At first she took the lead--I was only twelve--but I soon saw that I'd have to be the strong one. The problem was, we couldn't bring ourselves to kill him." Draco shook his head. "Even though, every time we saw him, he got angrier and angrier." He turned to Fairfax. "What did he say to you?"

Fairfax sighed. "He said, and I quote, 'My son's concentration has wavered, for the last time. I knew it would only be a matter of a few short years before one of them weakened. No one is strong enough to hold me for ever.' And then he Stunned me and knocked me down the stairs. I should have been faster."

"I'm just happy that you're going to recover completely," Draco said. "If you'd fallen differently, I shudder to think of the consequences. I'm not sure whether he was trying to actually kill you or not. Maybe he himself didn't know."

"We got along well, when he was younger," Fairfax said quietly.

Grace murmured, "To me he said, 'If my wife and son hadn't imprisoned me on the eve of my Lord's final battle, our forces might have triumphed. For this treachery, and the damage done thereby to Darkness eternal, no punishment is too great. I only regret that death must be swift, both for him and for her.' He was using his wand as a flamethrower at the time."

Draco sighed. "I've heard that 'Dark would have triumphed if I'd only been free' speech so many times." He turned to Harry. "In addition to being a mass murderer, my father is--he was--arrogant and grandiose," Draco said wryly.

"So are you, in a mild way," said Harry. "But it's not bad, it's a sort of...bravura you have. I love it, actually."

Draco blushed. "Hold that thought." He looked down sadly as his blush faded. "That's the whole story. And tomorrow we'll bury him." He looked around at all of them, as if calling a meeting to attention. "So, what about the future?"

Grace snorted. "Redecorate the house. Let in more light."

"Ensure the succession." Fairfax was solemn.

"Quidditch season tickets," Harry said, trying for a lighter tone. I have so much more to say to Draco, but when we're alone...I'm afraid I'm still rather shy.

Draco grinned at him. "You're all correct, so let's take the items in order of seriousness. Of course we'll get Quidditch tickets, Harry, a private box if you want, right after we get back from our honeymoon, our real honeymoon."

He turned to Grace. "And I quite agree that it's time to redecorate. As long as my father was alive I felt I could change the gardens, but not the interior. I'll want to work closely with you on the first floor, but while we're away and the builders are in here again, let's move my mother to the master suite. Let her pick out everything for her own new rooms, exactly the way she wants them, and then as soon as she's moved back you can rip out everything in the master suite and re-do it. Get rid of all the black, I give you carte blanche. Fairfax will manage the budget, of course." Grace grinned and Fairfax allowed another wintry smile to curl her lips. "You two, have fun."

"Now, the succession, you're quite right that it's critical, Fairfax, and I've been giving it some thought. I'll be settling property on each of the boys, of course, but I'd like a Malfoy to inherit the Manor." Harry hung his head. Because Draco chose me, he can't marry a woman. This is the one drawback about being gay. But Draco was continuing blithely. "And we have to arrange that before the boys get old enough to start thinking about their own futures; I want them to love our kids, not resent them. I think Harry and I ought to each have at least one child, the next generation of Malfoy-Potters."

"Yes, Mister Malfoy," Fairfax said briskly. "I'll begin canvassing suitable women of good but impoverished families, to serve as surrogate mothers. Blonde women of course; I assume you'd like to continue the family tradition."

"Blonde, certainly," Draco said, exchanging a glance with Grace. "But let's see if we can't be more...creative."

Grace smiled warmly at Draco. "Fairfax and I will discuss this matter in private." Harry's eyes widened as Grace and Draco began grinning. Grace is blonde. And she can't be more than thirty years old.

Fairfax ignored this and rode magisterially on to the next subject. "If you've all finished, perhaps Mister Potter would be willing to play for us all in the drawing room. And perhaps we could coax Mrs. Malfoy to come down and sit with us. Would you be willing, Mister Potter?"

"Of course," said Harry. "I've learned a new piece that I'd love to play for everyone." And when they ask what it's called, I'll tell them it's Neville Longbottom's Malfoy Concerto. This will be fun.

"That would be refreshing. It's been a trying day." She rose from the table, and all of them stood up. Grace followed Fairfax out of the room, but Draco stopped Harry from leaving.

"There's one more secret I need to tell you, Harry," Draco murmured. "It's good that you've started studying dragon speech, because the dragons and I would like you to work with us. Your visions, Harry, the visions you've painted...the dragons think you may be dreaming of events that are real, in other versions of our own reality. The dragons want to travel to them, if possible. They love adventure."

Harry smiled. "I've always worried that my visions meant I was crazy."

"Not crazy...visionary," Draco said, his voice thick with emotion. "As the dragons say, you're my mate. And they think I chose well." He gently touched the scar on Harry's forehead, then drew his hand caressingly down Harry's face. "I think I'm just amazingly fortunate. Thanks to you I have my body back. I have my life back. Both of them better than I ever dreamed." Now it was Draco's turn to smile. "Of course, speaking of my body, now we'll have to learn how to make love to each other all over again. I hope you won't mind, Harry."

I won't mind at all. I'm shivering at the very thought. Harry let his lips answer without words as he pulled Draco into his arms.

fin