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."

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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