Love Under Will

Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: R for language, frequent sexual situations, and angst

Disclaimer: I don't own anything here, except the writing. No profit is intended except the sheer joy I get out of constructing this story.

Note: Info on points raised throughout the story will always be chapter-specific; look at the end of each chapter for notes as necessary.

This chapter is dedicated to Cassandra Claire, loffly t00blet that she is, and theerstwhile Miss Breed, the two people who have probably inspired me most to write thisstory, and others, in recent months. You are a joy to know as writers and as people.Cassie, I am eternally grateful to you for your loyalty and integrity, and for putting upwith me pestering you about DV slash. Rachael, you are not only a wonderful writer andcritic, but a true friend and a huge asset to this fandomeven if you did sell yoursoul to the devil in exchange for becoming a Literati champion. >:0

Chapter Twelve: What You Will

What is love? Tis not hereafter:
Present mirth hath present laughter;
Whats to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me sweet and twenty,
Youths-a stuff will not endure. 

You know, its hard enough walking blindfolded down an interminably long, narrow tunnel, bent over double with no idea where Im goingwithout you constantly trying to grope me. 

Harrys hands had sneaked for the tenth time in five minutes around Draco as he herded him through the passage. I cant help it. I have to make sure you dont trip somehow, he teased, nuzzling Dracos neck.

Yesconvenient, isnt it, smirked Draco, stopping to lean backwards into Harrys embrace as best he could, since he couldnt quite stand up without dirt from the low ceiling showering into his hair. Harry sighed happily, and Draco emitted a soft hum of contentment. You know, wherever the hell were at, we seem to be very isolated, and were practically lying down anyway, so if you wanted to pick things up a bit& Draco turned and slung an arm around Harrys waist, giving his backside a playful pinch. 

Nice argument, but I dont think so, Harry chuckled, placing a light kiss on Dracos neck. Dracos quiet gasped encouraged him to linger, and the kiss grew as he let himself taste the soft skin at the hollow of Dracos throat. He pulled away at last, a little intoxicated by the warmth and the nearness of him. 

Tease, purred Draco. Whatever happened to the holiday spirit of giving? With that he took over Harrys mouth, forcing his own against it impatiently. Harry shivered and kissed back eagerly, the destination momentarilyforgotten. 

I can only wait so long, you know, Draco muttered against Harryslips.  

Relax, Harry responded, with a smirk he was glad Draco couldnt see.Its not far now. Just around a bend to your left and then& 

And then? 

And then youre going to get really dirty. 

Of course I am, Harry.

Not that kind of dirty. 

Oh. Lovely. Im covered in mud and dirt already and youre telling metheres more? Whats next, a live Nativity scene where we get to dress up like cattle and roll around in the straw? Where are you taking me? 

Harry laughed. Its not a Nativity scene, I can guarantee you that. 

Good. As you see, Im not really in the holiest of moods anyway. 

Harry started, then felt himself blush as a grin stole over him despite his best efforts. 

Turns you on, doesnt it? I can feel you staring, you know. 

Oh, shut up. Look outtree root. 

Oh, marvelous. You just had to blindfold me! Draco said, trying to sound miffed even though Harry knew he was enjoying himself. He was the only person Harry knew who could somehow manage to appear elegant even as he was trying not to stumble. Im sure I dont need to remind you that this had better be worth it. 

Trust me, said Harry, telling himself that this would be perfect, that he had worked too hard on it for it to be anything less. 

And he had. Hed stolen away hours earlier, that day, and every day before during the week, to make sure he had everything just right. It had taken him ages to plan this night. The hardest part had been figuring out how to sneak away for the evening without all of Gryffindor figuring out that he was up to something. At the last minute hed lied to Ron, saying that he was meeting Sirius. Ron had been put off by the fact that Harry had waited till the last minute to tell him and hadnt invited him along (I couldve given him his present!), but after a sufficient amount of grumbling he had agreed to keep quiet.  

What Harry hadnt told Ron was that he wasnt planning on being there in the morning either.  

He still wasnt quite sure how he was going to explain that one.  

But at the moment, with Draco snug in his arms, he didnt really care. 

All right& its just up ahead, he said as the end of the tunnel came into view. The passageway was rising, and they could finally stand up straight. 

Harry, where are we? 

Youll know soon enough. Er& sorry& be carefulit really is filthy&. Harry glanced a little nervously at Draco, suddenly seized with a pang of doubtit was hardly like the Slytherin to enjoy tromping around in dirt, and the rooms Harry was about to lead him through were nothing if not covered in it.  

Draco, however, was pushing through to the end of the tunnel, evidently curious. Its okay, he said. I dont really mind it all that much. Of course, if you tell anyone that Ill kill you. Harry laughed and followed him apprehensively. When he reached the opening at the end of the passage Draco felt it out, then forged ahead into the room beyond.  

During the preparation for this evening Harry had quickly given up the idea of trying to spruce up the entire building, but now, just for a moment, he regretted it; even with the candlelight illuminating the corridors and his knowledge of the comfort awaiting them upstairs, the sight of the demolished furniture and the dust-covered hallways was jarring. Although Draco couldnt see it, he could undoubtedly smell the mustiness. Harry had aired out the place as best he could, but the odor of disuse remained; he just hoped it wasnt too overpowering.

Draco was assessing everything without a word, but if he was turned off by what he sensed, he didnt show it. Were in a house? he asked uncertainly. 

Sort of. Upstairs next, said Harry, leading him over to the ramshackle staircase across the room. They mounted the creaking stairs one at a time, and as the cold winter drafts swept around their feet Harry congratulated himself on remembering to use a Heating Charm on the upstairs level. The warmth met them as they reached the landing.

Where to? asked Draco once he had effortlessly maneuvered his way to the top.  

Your right. Go to the end of the hallway. 

The candlelight flickered invitingly over the hall where Harry had levitated a row of lanterns earlier. A thrill of anticipation ran through him as Draco, blindfold notwithstanding, unhesitatingly walked the length of the corridor, pausing instinctively before the closed door at the end. Is this it? 

Yes. Harry moved around him, opened the door and stood in the entryway beside him. You can take that off now. 

Bloody finally! The handkerchief was unceremoniously yanked off, and Draco wiped a glaze of sweat from his forehead. Why all the secrecy? he askedbut his voice faded as he took in their surroundings. 

The room before them was neat and clean and ablaze with light. Firewood crackled cozily on the hearth, which had been enchanted to produce cheerful red and green flames, and the smell of evergreen wafted through the air. A tiny Christmas tree stood on a table in the corner, decorated with tiny white lights and crowned by a tiny replica of a golden Snitch. 

Draco was staring. He stared for so long Harry started to get nervous. I hope you like it, he managed. Oh, God, what if I did it all wrong? What if Ive embarrassed him, what if he doesnt want 

Harry, Draco breathed, and Harrys anxiety transformed to immediate exhilaration at the tone of his voice. Itsits a bed, he said, staring at the four-poster bed in the middle of the room.

You wanted to wake up with me, Harry replied. He had bought cream-colored silk sheets specially for the occasion. Huge pillows lay fluffed up at the head of the bed. In the center, Harry had placed Dracos Christmas present, wrapped in plain white paper and graced with a silver ribbon.  

Draco tore his gaze away from the bedroom to look at him. His eyes were full of emotion Harry had never seen in him before, and it instantly turned his insides to jelly.

He appeared to struggle for words, opening his mouth to speak, then discarding whatever he was about to say. Eventually he settled on, Thank you, and he said it with such force and feeling the words were like an embrace all on their own.  

Harrys heart was fluttering crazily. Draco laced his fingers through Harrys with one hand and brushed his cheek with the other. Harry, a bit lightheaded, pointedly looked above to the door frame over their heads. Draco followed his glance upwards. 

Mistletoe. 

Merry Christmas, said Harry.  

Draco smiled. 

In all of his life, in all of the times Harry had seen people being kissed under the mistletoe, had seen their cheeks flushed from exhilaration and from the winter cold, he had never imagined that the moment itself could actually be a little piece of Christmas all by itselfsomething perfect and complete and almost too sweet. But he had never before had someone like Draco Malfoy in his arms, and he had never before been kissed like this, as though the need to kiss him were more desperate than the need to breathe, more pressing than the deepest desire of his heart. 

Thank you, Draco whispered again when he finally relinquished Harrys lips, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around him. Harry knew his eyes contained the same happiness he saw in Dracos. The moment was too deep for anything but silence, and they remained under the mistletoe in each others arms, alternating slow kisses with deep sighs in an embrace that was everything Harry had ever known of bliss. 

At length Draco moved forward into the room, taking Harry with him; his arms were still so tightly locked around him that Harry barely had room to breathe. You got us a bedroom for Christmas, he said again, making an unusual show of not hiding his delight. 

Harry grinned. So you like it? 

Its perfect. Harrys grin got bigger. Draco inspected the room.So where the hell are we? Is this the Shrieking Shack?

I figured youd guess. 

Draco moved to a windowpane that Harry hadnt quite managed to scrub free of grunge and attempted to look outside. Only because the tunnel was so long and it was so isolated. You can get here from Hogwarts? 

Yeah, but I cant tell you which tunnel you were in, Harry said.The entrance is dangerous and if you knew you might get hurt.

And I thought the blindfold was just to turn me on. Draco smirked, but he was eyeing his surroundings shrewdly. Its not haunted, then?except by the disembodied head of Harry Potter, that is... 

Harry laughed. God, Ill never forget the look on your face. 

Oh, come off it. You were just as surprised as I was, but youre always such a prat about it, Draco said indignantly, even while he nestled his head against Harrys shoulder. Of course, if Idve known then what I know now, we could have had fun with that whole mud-flinging thing. 

I dontmud? Ew! 

Draco laughed. Howd you know about this place?  

Someday Ill tell you the whole story. 

Does it involve sex? Im sure they dont call it the Shrieking Shack for no reason& 

Harry had to laugh. If it does, Sirius has been hiding an awful lot from me, he smirked.  

Draco blinked. Sirius? Whats he got to do with it? but Harryslook of vague discomfort made him smile, Oh, all right. Keep your secrets. He placed a string of kisses along the nape of Harrys neck that instantly sent all discomfort far, far away. I have other ways of making you talk&  

Harry started to say something but it came out as a sigh of pleasure. 

&And making you moan, Draco continued, feathering kisses over Harrys chin and cheek. 

Mmmm& 

Mmmm. You taste like nutmeg, did you know? 

Must be the eggnog& 

Naughtily, into Harrys ear: I like it& 

You smell like cinnamon and& and you taste like apple cider& 

Do you even realize how sappy we sound right now? 

Do you even realize how much I dont care? Harry murmured. 

God& how do you do that? 

Do what? 

Sound seductive without even trying. 

Must be the company Im in, Harry smirked. Draco arched an eyebrow and struck an elegantly suave pose. On the other hand, Harry laughed, maybe not. 

Draco growled, and Harry cut him off with an insistent kiss. A flurry of movement followed, and Harry guided Draco toward the bed, toying with the buttons on his shirt.Arent you going to open your present first? Draco murmured. His imitation of coyness wasnt fooling anyone. 

Harry blinked at him. I was!

Not that present, Hairball. 

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again, supremely indignant. Draco made the mistakeof sniggering at him, only to be promptly assaulted. They fell together onto the bed and Harry draped himself over Draco, groping him half-earnestly, half-playfully while he kissed Draco everywhere he could reach. He never got over the comfort of Dracos arms; the more familiar he grew with Dracos body, the more amazed he became at how much every embrace seemed like a homecoming.  

Draco stretched himself out underneath him. Mmmmm& he purred. Icant tell which feels better, you or the bed. 

Youll soon find out. Harry nipped at the line of his jaw.  

Draco chuckled softly. My, my, arent we in a hurry& 

Problem? 

A grin. Nope! 

Mmmmm. 

Of course, I am lying on top of your Christmas present& 

You are?  

A nod.  

Butwhere is it? 

Wouldnt you like to know. 

Harry sat up and pulled Draco with him, giving his hair a good muss. You just dont want to put out. Wryly: Headache?  

A smirk. Hardly. And you know I hate it when you do that! 

What, this? Harry tousled Dracos silken hair even more irreverently.You love it when I do that, Draco. 

No, I dont&  

Harry grasped the roots of his hair and gave them a gentle tug.  

Draco gasped. Sullenly: Oh, hell, maybe I do& 

I feel like turning you inside-out, growled Harry, flicking his tongue over Dracos neck. 

That had better be a promise, Potter& 

Only one way to find outgod, you taste nice& 

Draco reached a hand in his robes while Harry licked and nibbled and generally treated Dracos earlobe as if it were his dessert, and fumbled around till he found what hed been searching for. He pulled it out, muttered an Engorgement charm, and smiled in satisfaction as the present returned to its original size. Much better. Shall I put it under the tree so we can do the thing properly or should we just open them in bed? 

Before sex or after sex? 

Or in between? 

How about we open one now, one later, then 

Or we could shag now, and then we could shag again, and then  

I like that idea.

Or& Draco stopped Harry in mid-smooch and placed a finger on his nose.Or we could do this right, he said earnestly. 

Harry smiled. You mean, have Christmas together and not just ordinary shacking up? 

Draco sniffed. Hmph. I dont do ordinary. And you certainly dont, or you wouldnt be doing me. 

You know, youre charming without having to be a snob about it. 

Yeah, wellyoure charming when youre not being a prat. 

I thought you said I was always a prat. 

You are. A laugh. But youre a damn sexy prat& 

Harry blushed.  

Its probably just the turtleneck, Draco continued, winking. Then,with an alluring pout: Although Im the one who should be wearing green. 

You just say that cause youre a Slytherin. You dont see me complaining about you wearing red. 

Youre just jealous because your house colors look better on me. 

Oh, and I dont look good in green? Harry retorted, a little proudly, knowing full well he looked, for lack of a better word, yummy. For once hed actually been the one toiling away in front of the mirror, and he didnt think the results were at all disappointing. 

Lets just say theres a reason you werent sorted into Slytherin, Draco answered with a wicked grin.  

Harry tried to hit him but Draco deftly caught his arm and kissed the underside of his wrist, provoking a light moan from Harry, who wrapped his other arm around Dracos waist with a contented sigh. It brings out your eyes, though, Draco said thoughtfully, trailing his index finger over Harrys eyelashes and following it with a light kiss. Whats your favorite color, Harry? 

Gold, Harry replied after a pause. Yours? 

Cant you guess? Draco answered softly. Then, as if realizing that he had been momentarily mesmerized by the study of Harrys face, he scoffed, Look at us, look at our outfits. Red and green. Just like Christmas. We might as well be wearing little pointy hats and elf ears. 

Gryffs and Slyths, Harry smiled. Perfect complements. 

For the tiniest of moments, Dracos gaze faltered. Perfect complements, he echoed.  

His voice took Harry aback. Draco never talked about them; everything was conjecture: looks, kisses, touches, smiles. He leaned in to kiss Draco, murmuring his name as their lips met. Draco laced his fingers through his hair and pulled him close. Harry closed his eyes, relishing the softness of Dracos lips, the invasive heat and rhythm of his tongue against Harrys. Steadily the kiss grew, until they were moaning softly into each others mouths, and a burning need to look into Dracos eyes caused Harry to break away a bit dazedly.

The unabashed tenderness he saw on Dracos face left Harry a little shell-shocked. Draco looked torn for a moment, as if he might speak, but instead he only whispered, I think I want you to open your present now. He kissed Harry again, then added, If we wait any longer I might get nervous. 

Harry smiled. Since when do you get nervous about anything?  

Since you. 

Harrys eyes widened. You dont have to get nervous about this, he answered gently, running his hand over Dracos cheek. Im a sure thing. 

Even you know thats not true, Draco replied wryly. Before Harry could protest, he added, I have the feeling that if you wanted a sure thing in your life,you would never have chosen me. 

Harry couldnt read his tone of voice, but he said firmly, I would have chosen you no matter what. 

There was a moment of surprised silence, followed by the quiet response, Open your present. 

It wasnt a new sensation for Harry to be unable to read Dracos thoughtshed spent five years trying and failing to do just that; he ought to be used to it by now. But tonight it seemed Draco, not for the first time, was trying to remove the barrier between things spoken and things unsaidwithout actually having to come right out and say what he felt. It was a scary thought, and it wasnt what Harry wanted to dwell on in this moment, no matter how serious Dracos intentions might have been under his veneer of holiday cheer. He shook it off and reached for the package. 

Nice wrapping job, he said. I can never get my corners to look this good.  

I used magic. What, you mean you did it by hand? Draco glanced behind him and picked up his present from Harry for the first time. But how did you get it to stay folded?and without ribbon, too& 

It hit Harry that the otherwise very knowledgeable Slytherin knew nothing about Sellotape. Now that he thought about it, the only one who ever used tape instead of ribbon to wrap his presents was Hermione. 

Draco had peeled off a sliver from one corner of the package and was inspecting it with curiosity. When it got stuck to his finger, his eyes widened and he began trying to shake it off with such innocent irritation that Harry had to laugh. This is like Spellotapebut more stubborn! Harry grasped his hand, removed the offending strip of adhesive, and smiled.  

Its called Sellotape, he informed Draco. 

Not bad for a Muggle invention. Although, predictably, annoying as hell. 

Harry laughed. Voldemort could probably take over the world with that stuff. Harry looked down at the package, wrapped unpretentiously in red and topped with a gold ribbon. He smiled. For all Draco tried to be an intolerant git, Harry knew better; no one who was truly as insensitive as he wanted to appear would have wrapped a present in the colors of the Hogwarts house he detested. When his eyes met Dracos again they were full of light. I like it already. 

Just open it, said Draco, and this time he really did sound nervous. 

Harry had labored over what to get Draco for Christmas; hed been tempted to get him a bunch of different things, but in the end hed opted for simplicity, figuring that one good present would say more than a lot of little gifts. Now he was glad; Draco had apparently done the same thing, and Harry already felt self-conscious opening just one package. 

It was obvious from the weight and shape of the solid square in his hands that Draco had gotten him a book of some kind. Harry didnt really like to read (although he did own a number of Quidditch texts), but he doubted Draco could get him a book he wouldnt enjoy. He looked up at Draco in surprise. Yes, its a book, Draco said. Go onits not like I transfigured into Granger and got you a copy of Hogwarts: A History. 

Harry smiled, undid the ribbon, and found himself staring at a leather-bound book, the face down. On the back was the Hogwarts seal. He turned the book over on its spine, where, embossed with gold lettering across its mahogany-tinted surface, the year 1978stood out plainly.

Turning the book over, Harry blinked in confusion for a moment longerand then with a gasp he opened the cover. He sat staring at the various signatures scattered over the first two pages in still-clear ink. 

Oh my god, was all he could whisper. He didnt move. He couldnt move. 

It was his mothers Hogwarts journal. 

He sat staring at the frontispiece, where the teenager who had grown up to be his mother had written Property of Lily Evans at the topand then, with ananimated smiley face enclosed in a heart, (soon to be Lily Evans Potter) underneath it. Below, the page was littered with notes from members of the Hogwarts graduating class of 1978. They were all names he recognized: Frank Longbottom, Remus Lupin, Amos Diggoryand one signature that made his heart sink: Peter Pettigrew. 

The book began to tremble uncontrollably in his hands. Part of him wanted to close his eyes before he read any more. Part of him longed to shut it and never open it again, the same way he wanted to shut out everything he had lost. And still another part of him felt as if he were seeing home for the very first time.

Lining the very bottom of the page was a brief note, the handwriting a confident scrawl. My Lily, it read. No flower ever blossomed fairer than you in my arms. Love always, Your James.  

Harrys heart lodged in his throat. He looked up at Draco, too shaken to speak,feeling more emotions than he could hope to articulate. Draco met his gaze and immediately took Harry in his arms. Harry closed his eyes and sank against him. Draco held him, gripping him tightly, reassuring him without words. Harry had never come so close to crying; not even when the emptiness and ache of Cedrics death had made even the act of breathing a near-impossibility. Now, the paradox consumed him whole: the memory of his parents love being offered to him by the one person who had made hate as much of a ritual as desire. Draco was holding everything Harry was, wanted, or ever could be in his arms, pouring a lifetimes worth of comfort into one embrace, as if he were trying to erase years of hurt. 

No one had ever held him this way; and Harry didnt want to let go. He couldntlet go. He clutched Draco and rested his head on his shoulder, against soft silver strands of hair, sobbing silently in emotion he didnt know what to do with. While Draco held him he grappled with stark naked vulnerability, gradually accepting that this was what he wanted: to trust, to let himself goand to let Draco see him letting go. He wanted Draco to see him, not The Boy Who Lived. He didnt know if anyone ever really had before, not like thisnot without the hidden expectation that he would get over whatever he felt now and go on to save the world later on. Draco didnt care. Draco didnt care about the worldjust about him. 

Deliberately, he brought his lips to Dracos, just barely brushing against them at first, too overwhelmed by what he felt to do more. Dracos response was hesitant at first, but the more Harry coaxed his lips the more he relaxed, until finally Harry felthim acquiesce and tilt his head back to receive Harrys kisses. Harry took Dracos face in his hands, trembling with every kiss, wanting to give himself up to Draco completely; become a pulse inside a pulse, a breath within a breath. To lose himself in this warmth, in this calm, in the newest feeling of all: 

Peace.  

A silent eternity later, Harry released Dracos lips. Draco kept his eyes closed for half a moment longer than necessary.  

I& he said, and then his lips fell closed again, and he just looked at Harry. I wasnt sure if it was a good idea, he said when he finally spoke again. His voice was a whisper of silk, uncertain and thin. But I wanted to be the one to give it to you. 

Harry responded by picking up the journal and caressing its pages gently.Its perfect, he said softly, not meeting Dracos eyes because his own were riveted to his mothers handwriting. Its incredible. But where& how? 

It was Dracos turn to avert his eyes. Do you mind if I dont tell you that just now, Harry? 

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head. No. I trust you.  

Draco relaxed visibly. His arms were still laced protectively around Harry.  

Thank you, Harry gulped, blinking furiously. Draco leaned forward, took Harrys face in his hand, and swept his lips over Harrys cheek. Harry closed his eyes. Thank you, he whispered again. Dracos fingertips trailed over his skin while Harrys fingers traced the edges of the book, feeling the cover, the pages inside, slightly crinkled from age and disuse. 

Without opening his eyes, still savoring Dracos touch, he shut the journal and slid it gently to one side of them, out of the way.  

You dont want to look at it? Draco asked him, a note of puzzlement lacing his voice. 

Harrys eyes fluttered open and he looked back into Dracos face.  

Not just now, Harry replied. I want to look at you. 

Slowly Harry moved forward, his eyes fastened to Dracos own while he undid the buttons of Dracos robes, and then the buttons of the burgundy shirt beneath them. Dracos chest seemed unusually pale underneath the dark colors, and unusually lustrous under the glare of the dancing light around them. He was sitting still, notmoving while Harry ran his hands over and under his garments, as if he wasnt yet quite sure what to make of Harrys sudden wish to see him unclothed. Harry didnt know what he wanted exactlymaybe it was a wish to see Draco as exposed as he felt himself; but as the other boys smooth skin met the light, he devoured him with his gaze, not caring how uncomfortable it might have made Draco to be stared at like a work of art. 

Draco was a work of art. All smooth curves meeting straight sharp lines in unexpected, defiant angles; hot veins coursing through hard muscle, toned flesh stretched over a thin frame; symmetry of form so perfect it was almost musical, crowned by stormy, fiercely unrevealing eyes, equally perfect in their dissonanceeyes that flickered with the golden reflection of the candlelight around them. Even the pallor of his skin was a composition of color: Harry had never seen so many shades of white. 

He looked until his heart could hold no more of Draco without bursting, then looked away and back again to find Draco gazing at him. 

It was a different gaze. Harry had never seen anything approaching it on Dracos face. The self-consciousness of being exposed for Harrys approval had vanished. This look was completely new, startling in its honesty. Harry couldnt comprehend what was behind it at first. Fear, submission, resignation, were all there, but the prevalent emotion was too powerful, too elusive to study. It knocked Harrys breath out of him before he knew what had happened, and then he understood: Draco was answering every question Harry had never asked of him. Pain and acceptance and inevitability coursed through his gaze as he stared back at Harryunderstanding, longing, and even need,stark in his eyes.

He moved to slide his hands over Dracos waist, and felt the other boy shiver as his skin brushed the warmth of Harrys body. He leaned in to press his lips against Dracos shoulder, but Draco stopped him with a whisper.

Lie down, Harry.

Harry looked up and blinked.

Draco was trembling. 

Not one to choose the wrong time to ask questions, Harry lay down. 

Draco moved their presents, one unwrapped, the other still in its packaging, to the bedstand, and in one movement knelt over Harrys still-clothed body, running a hand delicately over his cheekbone.

He looked at Harry, and Harry could barely breathe. 

Close your eyes. Keep them closed. 

Harry drank in the sight of him, closed his eyes, and felt as if he were falling into a blanket of trust. 

He felt Dracos fingers brushing over his arm, moving slowly over his wrist until they found his own.  

They locked their hands together and did not let go. 

Dracos other arm moved under Harrys back; with his eyes still closed, Harry arched and wrapped his arm around Dracos waist, to pull him down and hold him to him as tightly as he could. Harry knew instinctively that Draco had closed his eyes too. 

Draco stilled against him, his head buried in the curve of Harrys neck. For along moment they only lay in each others arms, until Dracos breathing became steady and slow, aligned with his own; he could feel their chests connecting as they exhaled; could feel the pulse beneath Dracos thumb throbbing against Harrysown. 

And then they began: the kisses. 

Deep, slow kisses over Harrys jawbone and chin, lining his neck, claiming the crevice between his shoulder blades. 

Kisses so light, so fleeting, he hardly knew if they were there or merely imagined. 

Kisses so perfectly paced, so even and focused, they controlled Harry, teaching his body to react to their steady, unhurried tempo with restraint he never knew could feel so good. 

Kisses that inched over his body, keeping him preoccupied with where they might next land, focused on each breath ghosting over skin, each slow slide of fabric against his body, on the warmth of Dracos closeness, until finally he felt the dizzying completion of full contact, of skin on skin from his shoulders to his feet, warm and welcoming and whole. 

Kisses that kept lifting him up, out of himself until he was breathless from the height. 

Draco 

Kisses that made him tremble. 

DracoI 

Shhhhh& breathe, Harry&  

Kisses, sweet, tiny kisses, expanding over his body, tasting him, taking every bit ofhim in, consuming him without ever ceasing their constant pressure.

Kisses, owning him, caressing him, bathing him in feeling.  

Kisses from lips that could not bear to part from his body for even a moment. 

Kisses that went on, and on, for hours; kisses that reached inside him repeatedly, unearthed him from somewhere deep and dark and hidden, pulled him out, and blinded him with light. 

Kisses that drowned words, that made silence as thick, as intoxicating as incense around them, occasional phrases wafting through. 

&tell me&.  

&anything& 

Kisses enslaving him in ribbons, not chains, of desire. 

&be in me& 

&how? 

&everywhere& 

Kisses, too tender, brushing their unspoken doubt over his lips, until he needed release. 

&the only one& 

&what? 

&you. 

Kisses that hesitated, and finally surrounded a whispered, &yes. 

&you. 

Yes.

The night stretched out around him, and Harry was lost, and found, and everything at once.

It was after midnight, but the moonlight streamed in through the dirt-streaked windows as though it were a midsummers day. The candles had all burned down to nothing; faint threads of smoke still sifted through the air like mist, shrouding the four-poster bed in place of the canopy, which had long since gone missing. Draco lay propped up on one elbow, sometimes studying the air, swirling with moonlight and vapor, but mostly watching Harry as he slept.  

He had curled into a ball beside Draco, his hair strewn over his face in peaceful disorder, sighing occasionally through his dreams and inching closer to him. Once, he uncurled a hand long enough to reach over and feel Dracos warmth next to him, whereupon he smiled, sighed, let his hand fall onto Dracos waist, and returned to the depths of his slumber. He was a heavy breather, and every so often a tiny snore would escape his lips.  

It seemed so appropriate, somehow, Draco thought, that the hero of the wizarding world should do something so imperfect as snoring. Harry seemed to be enjoying his dreams, whatever they were. Draco hoped, as much as it was possible to hope, that Harry was reliving the night in his mind; he wished, as much as it was possible to wish, that Harry was memorizing it all in his sleep: every kiss, every touch, every breath and gasp; the moments they had completed one another; the moments they had come. He couldnt sleep himself, not when Harry lay in his arms. To sleep would be to miss knowing 

knowing that he had been inside this boy so deeply tonight that he might never come out again. 

He leaned into the curve of Harrys body, idly stroking Harrys hand where it lay. Harry looked so smallsmall and fragile and innocent, as if he had never battled anything more difficult than fatigue, nor lived through anything scarier than the shadows of his nightmares.  

It might have been his vulnerability that made Draco yearn to be close to Harry while he slept. It might have been the way Draco thrilled at running his hands over Harrys skin without his awareness: smooth, cool skin, still flushed with passion. It might have been the way Harry, too, kept reaching out to touch Draco, as though even in his sleep he needed the constant, ever-present contact of their bodies. It might have been the paradox that Harry could look so fragile and yet feel so strong when they were inside one another; that his sturdy form could sweep through Dracos body and rivet him with pleasure,and yet rock against him in voiceless anguish the same night.  

It might simply have been that Draco could not decide which was the greater miraclethe fact that Harry was alive, or the fact that Harry was in his arms. 

He didnt know what time it was. He expected it would be dawn sooner rather than later, but he really couldnt tell. Usually he knew within the quarter hour, just from instinct. Now he had no idea. Whether he had been locked inside of Harry for an eternity or an ephemeron, he couldnt tell.  

He was used to analyzing events, thinking about things and what they meant. Now he couldnt. Now all he could do, in this moment, and all the moments that had come before, ever since he had laid his first kisses against Harrys soft flesh, was feel. 

Harry had cried in his arms. Harry had cried and let go and trusted him and somehow broken him in two.

Harry was so warm. Not hotit wasnt an external warmth; his skin was cool to the touch. It was more that he was, even in his sleep, the most vividly alive person Draco had ever seen. He leaned over the slumbering figure and slowly drew a line across his cheek with a solitary finger, and realized as he touched him that his hands still trembled.  

Clich�s surrounded him: vapid, useless clich�s, words which he would never have used to describe any of his feelingshad there been any other way, within the reach of his knowledge, for him to feel.  

But Harry& Harry left him none. Because of Harry he was a trembling, sleepless clich�. 

He pressed his lips to Harrys forehead. 

Harry& he said softly, because he needed the release. 

Harry stirred but did not wake, and Draco laced their fingers together as he moved closer, their bodies touching now.

Harry&

His forehead bent to touch Harrys own, his eyes closing as he memorized Harrys warmth, his scent, the sound of his breath.

Harry& 

He wrapped his arms around Harry and held him closer, his torso aligned with Harrys own, trying not to wake him but unable to fight the urge to be connected to him again. Harrys eyes fluttered open to look at him; he smiled up at Draco, kissing him softly on the lips before returning to sleep.

Something broke inside of Draco. For once he didnt try to explain it or figure it out. All he felt, all he wanted to feel, was Harry. He buried his head against Harrys shoulder.  

Harry hummed softly and slept on, and Draco breathed when Harry breathed, sighed when Harry sighed, and surrendered.  

In the busy interior of London proper, hidden between the bustling throngs of Diagon Alley and the silent, slow traffic of Knockturn Alley, is a narrow unobtrusive side-street frequented by wizened old men in spectacles and other industrious, scholarly types. At the end of the street a faded sign on a rod-iron gate welcomes the haphazard visitor to Mortome Row. Lining the sides of the cobblestone way are a series of rickety buildings with ramshackle storefronts and awnings tattered from years of wear. The metal gratings are rusty, and some of the shop windows have not been cleaned in over a century. The inhabitants of this eccentric street are, many of them, as old as the buildings. 

Near the end of Mortome Row, set back away from the street, is a small flight of steps descending to a heavy wooden door. No engravings or letters mark this door, only a plain glass doorknob. Neither are there any markings on the windowless storefront itself. One can see nothing from the outside, nor from the inside; and so it has been for upwards of sixty years. 

To this small fortressed shop a woman comes and sits, every day. Her eyes are tired from old age, but the dim lighting remains unaltered. She perches on a high stool in the corner, next to a fringed lamp of exquisite silk brocade, which tinges the parchment of her newspaper a slight pink. 

At a sound at the door she looks up. A man enters, his stride one of casual familiarityhe is a short wizard in a robe of heavy gray fabric. His hood is up and she cannot see his face. Still, she smiles at him, her face drawing up into a thousand unexpected wrinkles, then relaxing once again into a smooth, creaseless mask as she greets him. 

The wizard responds with a curt question. Worry-lines surface one by one in her countenance, in a gradually deepening expression of fear. The answer she makes displeases the wizard; she can tell, even though he does not lower his hood, by the way his stance grows stiff and his hands tense beneath the folds of his robes. He fires back another question, his voice sharp.  

She stands now, her bosom heaving, hands spread on her wide hips, and draws herself up to her full height. She will not answer him; her cheeks are flushed with indignation. 

The wizard lowers his hood, emitting a slow, menacing chuckle as he watches her face. She stares at him in disbelieving confusion for one long horror-stricken moment; and then,as one of those things that can only be felt rather than purely known, she understands everything, and the confused, wild-eyed astonishment gives way to agonized revulsion as her features twist themselves around to hold back her cries of shame. 

He is unmoved, and in fact amused at her reaction. He asks her again, and this time she spits the answer back at him, defiantly, even proudly, as though it is the flag of her own private rebellion. The words unfurl and float on the air for a moment: HarryPotter.

The wizards expression tightens as if the name is a vise. He nods once, as if he has heard all he needs to know, and draws from his cloak a long, skinny wand. He raises it with a flash of silver and calmly mutters the words, his eyes fastened disinterestedly onto her own: 

Obliviate.

Imagine this, if it all falls in place
And your love, under will, comes as grace
All youll see is mystery face to face.
Would you tell, could you speak, could you say
That the love that you feels come of age?
All you see is mystery, and obey

Harry stirred throughout the night. Hed crack an eye open, look at Draco, and go back to sleep, as if he were satisfied knowing Draco was there, still tucked beside him. 

Draco made sure that when Harry awakened he experienced the lull of Dracos arms wrapped around him, their bodies pressed gently together. As Harrys eyelids fluttered open, Draco bestowed delicate kisses on them, trapping him in his embrace. Harry drifted lazily into consciousness, as if he were coming from one beautiful, lovely place into another one, and were having trouble making up his mind which one to pick. Draco, who had waited all night just to see how the sunlight fell into Harrys mop of hair,relished the expression of sleepy, relaxed peacefulness on Harrys face. It was better than hed imagined; but it paled next to the unguarded contentment in Harrys eyes when he looked up and recognized Draco beside him. 

Did I& sleep like this? he said, yawning, with a puzzled glance down at their completely entangled forms. The whole night? Draco nodded lazily into the pillow. Wow, said Harry, flushing slightly.  

Sleep well? Draco asked him, whisking kisses along his neck.  

I dreamed about you, was the soft response. Harry tucked his arms around Dracos waist and ran a hand over Dracos bodyso naturally, as if they woke up together every morning. Draco gazed at him through a haze of happiness, a faint smile on his lips. Harry propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Draco in mild puzzlement. Youre acting different. 

Am I. It wasnt a question. 

Everything okay? 

Draco sat up, yawned, and stretched luxuriously. Life couldnt be better, he grinned. I just slept with Harry Potter. He turned, took Harrys chin between his thumb and forefinger, and added earnestly, With you. 

The look in Harrys eyes grew into something Draco gladly would have traded his entire inheritance to keep. Instead of replying in words, Harry clasped both of Dracos hands to his.

Warmth surged through Draco. He yearned for this particular touch of Harrys. It was so tender and sincere: so& Harry; and yet it was a purely private gesture. No one else got this. It was just for him, just for Draco, and Draco couldnt help being fiercely possessive of this one tiny movement, even though he suspected that it was he who was actually being possessed.  

If he was supposed to care at this point, well, tough.  

He sank into the bed sheets, enjoying Harrys contact, grinning up into Harrys face like some kind of silly, contented farm animal, and not really giving a damn. Harry leaned over him and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes even as a dark forelock fell into his own. The shiver of giddy, euphoric emotion that just that touch induced in Draco really, really should have embarrassed any self-respecting Malfoy.  

Stupid adorable Gryffindor.  

He released one hand from Harrys and reached it around his waist, pulling Harry on top of him, relishing the coolness of the other boys flesh. Harry relaxed and leaned his head on Dracos chest. With their free hands, they idly caressed one anothers bodies, the others still clasped tightly together. Harrys touch, even after all this time, was tentative, as though he couldnt quite believe that Draco was his to explore and take and feel; it was sweet, and arousing, and 

Draco was beginning to run out of words. 

Harry, he said softly. 

Mmm. Harrys eyes were closed.  

Draco blinked. Dont fall asleep on me again, you dolt.  

Harry opened one eye. You make a good pillow, Malfoy. Not nearly as bony as I would have imagined. 

Shut up. Draco ran a hand through Harrys hair and then caught him by surprise by stealing a kiss.  

Youre smirking, Malfoy. 

Its just the light. 

Whatever it is, its sexy. 

In that case, its the smirk. 

Harry sat up, indulging in a long, cat-like stretch. Draco half-suspected it was to let him enjoy that arched, perfect body, the toned muscles flexing and rippling. Ever the opportunist, he ran a hand firmly over Harrys chest up to his neck, and smirked even more when the yawn turned into a moan. My god, you make me feel good&Harry murmured, leaning into the touch. 

Same here, Draco said, leaning forward and kissing Harrys shoulder gently. Harry turned, looked into his eyes, and pulled him into another deep kiss.

Theyd been together just six weeks, and Harrys kiss still overpowered Draco every moment, giving him death-defying head rushes, and making him do utterly idiotic things like moan deeply into Harrys mouth, as this kiss did.  

Harry leaned him back into the cushions and sprawled against him, one elbow propped on Dracos stomach as he ran scrawny fingers over his chest. He was just gazing, studying Draco without any readable emotion. Draco, still dizzily euphoric from the kiss and the sex and the night spent watching Harry sleep, felt his throat tighten. 

Your smile& Draco murmured indistinctly, transfixed. 

My smile&? 

So& so perfect. It makes me want to throw myself under a train.  

Harry smiled another sweet, killing-me-softly smile, sank down against him, and kissed him. Thats the stupidest thing Ive ever heard, he said with a grin. And then, softly, Thanks. 

Draco looked at him and felt his voice automatically drop to a whisper. Sure. For you, anything.

Harry raked his nails over Dracos chest. Draco gasped. You dont mean that, Harry said, his grin turning wicked, and before Draco could respond, he kissed him again.  

Draco closed his eyes and deepened the kiss, slowly prodding Harrys lips open sothat he could taste and savor every bit of Harrys mouth. Harry sighed and tangledhis fingers in Dracos hair, and for a few moments, only soft gasps and the light squeak of bedsprings interspersed the silence around them.

He was so caught up in kissing Harry that he didnt realize Harry was maneuvering himself against his body until their erections brushed against one another. Their kissing grew hungrier, and the movement of their hands clumsier, and, Look at me,murmured Harry as he dipped his fingers into the still-open jar of oil that had served them so well the previous night. Draco sighed and relaxed and kept his on Harrys;and Harry seemed to know when to enter him without their lips ever parting, which was fine, because all Draco wanted in life was to feel Harrys tongue in his mouth and Harrys hardness inside him and Harrys lips and Harrys legs and Harrys hands and Harrys hair and Harrys skin and Harrys pulse and Harrys heart and Harrys everything, justlike 

oh 

like 

this 

and Harrys eyes 

darkening and darkening into the deepest night of an evergreen forest 

and Harry inside him 

fiery and slick and fast and pistoning and anchoring himself between his thighs 

and Harrys eyes 

swirling into the murkiest bend of the Nile, churning into sun-stroked tropical leaves 

and Harrys mouth 

rough and wet and cool and glistening and surf and sand and wave and ocean all at once 

and Harrys eyes 

shimmering like the scales and the heat of a Welsh dragon andoh

oh 

oh 

and Harry squeaking gasping yelping Draco against his lips and Draco squeezing him and shifting and sighing and sobbing andsurrenderingsuccumbingcoming 

falling 

Oh

holding 

Harry

kissing 

Oh 

landing 

Mmm

silence

Mmm

And Harry Potter felt better panting against Dracos chest, huffing into Dracos neck, with his black hair plastered to Dracos nose, and sweat running down his forehead onto Dracos chin, and his teeth indenting Dracos Adams apple, and his fingernails leaving claw marks on Dracos shoulder, and his legs all sticky and sliding against Dracos thighs, and one toe digging reflexively into Dracos calf, than anything in the whole fucking world.

Harry murmured something so lightly Draco couldnt make it out.  

Whats that? muttered Draco, kissing the top of Harrys head, then poking his nose into the soft, damp curls of his hair. 

Harry purred and clung to him for a momentand then he said, quietly, firmly,I dont want you to leave. 

Dracos breath caught in his throat, and he stiffened reflexively. He could almost feel the pain lance through Harryhe did feel itand immediately he lifted Harrys chin and wound his other arm more tightly around him. Harry looked up at him, resting his chin against the splay of Dracos fingers, and blinked. 

Draco moved his hand from where it caressed Harrys face, and ran his thumb over Harrys cheek, slowly down his jaw line. Harry looked at him, holding his eyes as Draco trailed his thumb-tip over his chin, then up over his bottom lip, brushing it lightly. Gently he traced Harrys lips, then trailed his forefinger up to the tip of Harrys nose.  

God, he was beautiful. 

He was so beautiful. 

He paused, feeling the moment grow heavy around themthen he pressed Harrys nose like a button and pulled him into a kiss. When he released him Harrys lips quirked into a little smile, and he sighed and settled against Draco. 

A long silence. 

Then they both spoke at once. 

Harry& 

Youd better open your present before we forget. 

Harry rolled off of him and turned immediately to the bed-stand to fetch the package, and Draco refused to focus on the discomfort twisting his stomach into a knot, or the forced lightness of Harrys tone.  

He had all but forgotten about the other present; as he took it from Harry he ran his hand over Harrys back, wondering idly when they had been coherent enough to move the gifts from the mattress the night before. Harry smiled at him and reached for his mothers journal, smoothing the front cover lovingly as he watched Draco inspect the present.  

It was very obviously a booka very heavy, very thick book. Even though Draco made no secret of his love for reading, he was mildly surprised that Harry, who normally didnt have time for books, had picked up on it. He gave Harry an awkward smile, and saw that Harry was twisting his hands in nervous expectation. 

The knot in Dracos stomach was now a pretzel.  

Harry didnt say a word as Draco unwrapped the present, not even when Draco first glimpsed it and looked up at him in shock. He was holding a stunning leather-bound book whose pages seemed to have been frozen in time. It looked ancient, and smelled of years of care in dust-laden bookshops, preserved by careful hands. Through the clear outer jacket intended to protect it from mishandling, the lettering was barely visibleit had almost faded into the cover itself; but there, with a faint sparkle that easily caught an eye used to spotting tiny speckles of gold, an unreadable title still gleamed.

Dracos astonishment grew. He carefully pulled the book out of its covering,turned to the inner frontispiece, and stared. In silver-plated letters, vibrant and alive with color, and shimmering almost like scales, he read:  

In hwelc Cwidegiedd Awritan seo Fer� gelong Salysar Slythyryne in Gomen ge �ht beon Secgan ge Reccan fore ��t Geong ond List Godcundfiras. In �ht Gear gelong F�derure 1053.

Harry bent his head over the top of the book and blinked. Wow, he breathed reverently. I hadnt seen the inside cover. The woman who sold me the book said it was written in a magical language. 

It is. Draco slowly reached for his robes, transfixed by the page in frontof him. Removing his wand, he touched it to the one of the heavy plates. Araccean,he murmured. 

Harry stared at him. You can speak it? 

Just a few of the ancient spells. Its a lot like Old Englisha special wizarding language the sorcerers developed. Its based on the Muggle language, but Muggles wouldnt have been able to understand it. 

Oh, blinked Harry, sounding duly impressed.  

Slowly the letters began to change and reshape themselves, their colors shimmering dully, almost as though they were slithering across the page. They were quiet, watching, until finally they were able to read: 

In whych Texte the Filosofies of Salazar Slytherin in Practise and Profyt are Detayld and Expounded Upon for the Younge and Ambytius Wizarde. In This, The Year of Our Lord, 1053. 

Draco swallowed. 

Harry had given him the Memoirs of Salazar Slytherin. 

He was holding it in his hands. 

One of the rarest books in the world. 

If not the rarest. 

He was holding it in his hands. 

He looked up, staggered where he sat. Harry& do you know what this is? 

Harry blinked. Um 

Its an original edition of one of the most sought-after books in the world. How did you get something like this? 

Harry colored and shrugged.  

Draco suddenly wanted to strangle him: an original edition, and he was shrugging! 

But when Harry next spoke his voice held a bit of hesitancy, as if he were speaking of something he wasnt sure he should be revealing, and the desire to strangle turned into an impulse to reach over and touch his hand, which Draco obeyed. 

The last Hogsmeade weekend we made, Harry confessed, I went looking for something you might like at the bookshop, but they didnt have anything that reminded me of you, so the bookseller wrote down the name of this little shop in London and Flooed me there. I dont even remember the name of itI have the paper somewhere. It turned out to be a place that sold rare books. The lady who worked there was really nice. She didnt even once stare at my scar. He trailed off and looked down. 

She sold something like this to you. 

Harry flushed. When I walked into the shop, she just smiled and said, I already know what you want. 

She already knew? 

Harry nodded. Yeah. 

Harry. 

Yes? 

Thats very weird. 

Well, I didnt believe her, really, but then she took me into this room and showed me this book and it looked really cool. I mean, she said it was really rare, but II didnt know how rare. She explained what it was but I didnt realize it was an original edition. I meanI just thought that youd like it. 

Draco stared at him. Harry reddened under his gaze. Dont you like it? 

Harry, this is worth a fortune. You cant give me something like this,its too valuable. Im not worthhow could she sell something like this to a student who didnt know what they were getting? 

Thats just it, Harry insisted. She said she ordinarily wouldnt give it to someone like me, but she had dreamt that I would come, and that I would ask for the book. 

She dreamt it. 

She dreamt it. Andthe lady, she said shed lost her son in the fight against Voldemort. She said shed always wanted to repay the one whod defeated him, and she believed that the dream was telling her to give the book to me, in thanks.  

He looked down again, flinching, and Draco ran his fingers through Harrys hair,as soothingly as he knew how. She didnt knowthat Ithat he was back. I couldnt bring myself to tell her. I didnt want her to know her son had died in& vain. He trailed off.  

Harry& 

His words fell out in a jumble. If you dont like it Ill give itback 

Harry, are you sure you want me to have this? Draco couldnt quite keep the shell-shocked quality out of his voice. 

Harry looked up at him, eyes wide and apprehensive. Ido you like it? 

Draco had to swallow before he could speak. Harry, I& He felt his stomach tighten and his heart swell all at once, making it suddenly very hard for him to breathe. Reaching for Harry, he drew him into a hard kiss. When they finally broke away, Harry was smiling. Guess thats a yes.  

Draco nuzzledyes, nuzzledHarrys hair. Guessed right. Harry, do you even know what this book contains? Its information on all the formulas and potions and spells Slytherin invented and used over his lifetimeinformation on the people he worked with, magical laws he discovered& I mean, the man was a genius, and yetHarry, he enchanted this manuscript so no one could reproduce it because he was worried his words would be distorted and so there are maybe three of these still in existence and youre sitting here asking me if I likeit?! 

Harry was now positively pink. 

I& well& I knew you& I knew it would suit you. I wanted you to have it. 

Draco looked at the book, smoothing its ancient but still wonderfully preserved pages,suddenly understanding. HarryHarry, a Gryffindor through and through, who had never looked at his house except to criticize, and never thought of Slytherin himself as more than a Bastion of Pure Evil, had given him& this. 

Draco ran out of words. 

He raised his eyes and met the look on Harrys face.

He would never forget this. 

Harry& thank you. 

He closed his eyes under the weight of what he felt, and sensed Harry lean in towards him. A moment later Harrys lips brushed gently over his eyelids. Draco moved his hands up in slow motion to cup Harrys face and look into his eyes before the kiss came.

It lingered and grew and deepened; it was slow and long and patient, without urgency. Draco was content to explore Harrys mouth: nestling closer, worshiping his soft,sweet-tasting lips, the soft, dancing rhythm of his tongue curling against Dracos own, the security of Harrys fingers tucked between the strands of his hair; content to bask in the absolute perfection of everything they were in that moment.

Thank you, he murmured. Thank you so much. 

Its nothing. 

Its everything. 

Harrys eyes fluttered open at this, full of light and utterly entrancing. Impulsively, Draco drew Harry into his arms and kissed him deeply, eliciting from Harry an equally deep shudder. His mothers journal, which had been sitting in his lap, slid off of his knees onto the bed, and Draco steadied it with one hand to keep it from falling off altogether.  

The pages of the diary fell open under his fingertips. He felt Harry glance down at them, then pull away, leaving Draco feeling, for an instant, completely bereft without the contact. The sensation vanished just as quickly the next moment, when he followed Harrys gaze and started in surprise. 

Draco& what is that? 

The book had fallen open, and there, wedged tightly inside of it, was a small pendant hanging on a thin leather cord.  

The stone was round and smooth, enclosed in a silver casing. Inside it, a murky chalk-white substance swirled like a thick fog on a windy night. Draco stared, then picked itup by the cord and examined it in the light. It was beautiful, but its hue was somehow dull, and strangely chilling as Draco ran his fingers over the even, flat surface. 

Harry looked at him with wide eyes, then reached out and clasped the stone in his hand. As his fingers closed over it, a shiver ran through Draco. 

He watched, seeing Harry, in slow motion, caress the smooth stone in his hand, and then turn it over, his eyes widening even more. I think theressomethingwriting on the back.  

Harry blinked, then squinted and looked closer, rubbing the flat back of the casing with the bed sheet, ignoring the smudges of dirt left there as a result. Draco crinkled up his nose and leaned in to look over Harrys shoulder. In tiny script they read: 

Love, and do as thou wilt.  

St. Augustine, said Draco. Maybe they were Catholic. He grinned at Harry, but Harry didnt smilehe was staring at the stone in fascination. 

In the recesses of Dracos mind a faint alarm began to sound, intuition stirring, almost from beyond his consciousness. He re-read the back of the stone, and concentrated on dislodging the information from his memory. Love& will& He almost had it, but he couldnt quite remember& 

Harry squeezed the amulet protectively and began to pull the necklace over his head. Abruptly Draco caught his arm and stopped him. Cold gripped his insides.Harry, he said unevenly. Dont do that. 

Why not? It was my mums, it belonged to her 

You dont know where it came from. Itit might not be your mothers, itit could be anything. 

Harrys eyes narrowed. Draco, he said slowly, where did you get my mothers diary? 

I cant tell you. Not yet. 

Dont you think you ought to? Harrys voice held a note of defiance. It could be importantunless, of course, youre hiding information you think might be dangerous for me to know. 

Its not that, said Draco roughly. I just have a level of confidentiality to maintain and I cant give that up, not even for you. 

Harry hesitated, then nodded curtly. Right. And you dont want me to put this on, because&? 

Draco felt unpleasant sensations starting in his navel and traveling outward, like a Portkey with no blessed destination away from the source of the discomfort. A wild and vague idea of just what that pendant might be was forming at last, and on the off-chance that he was correct he was determined not to let Harry put it on. At least& at least not while he was there to see it.

If hed been a bit more honest with himself he would have asked why the prospect was so frightening. But in the face of what that stone meantcould meanhe wasnt remotely prepared to deal with the possibilities. 

Its just as a precaution, Harry. 

It was my mums, Harry said stubbornly, cradling the stone protectively in his palm. Obviously its not a Portkey, and it was sealed with the diary. Who else could it have belonged to but my mother? 

Harry&  

Harry bit his lip and scowled. 

Draco winced and finally said roughly, Fine! Put it on then.

He gulped and turned away. After a moment Harrys voice came over his shoulder, a bit more hesitantly, You& you really dont want me to wear it? 

Draco sighed silently in relief. He turned back to Harry and reached out to brush his hair away from his forehead. It would mean a lot to me if you didnt put it on. 

You mean& not now? 

Notat least not till we find out what it is. 

You mean you dont already know? 

Draco looked into his eyes. Promise me, Harry? Promise me you wont wear it? 

Harry looked back at him, eyes large and luminous and still completely trusting. Something in the back of Dracos head informed him that he was a complete and utter prat for doing this, but the greater part of him was more inclined to drown in his relief that Harry was about to agree. And he knew that once promised, Harry would not touch the necklace. At the moment, that was all he wanted. 

Okay, said Harry solemnly. I promise. 

Impulsively, Draco kissed him.

Doorways spilling out their sombre light
Casting shadows that will raid the night
Along the alleys of her ruling fears
Walk the visions that will cause her tears
Lying still as she wills her glance
Through the eyes of a charmers trance
Please, my friend, no matter what she sees,
Tell my lover, come back to me.

Harry cradled the necklace in his hand all the way back to Hogwarts. He had the journal tucked under his arm, and his other arm around Dracos waist. Draco, despite being relieved that no one was around to see them, couldnt help but love the touchcouldnt help but walk a little slower just to relish it. Harry kept nuzzling his neck every few steps or so, and Draco found himself nuzzling right back, despite his unease, until, just shy of the entrance to the tunnel, with Harrys hand under his shirt and his lips pressed firmly against Dracos neck, Draco was forced to murmur that they were going to be late for breakfast. 

Mmmm, said Harry. 

Draco promptly, if somewhat breathily, informed him that there was no way Harry could possibly miss seeing Weasley and Granger off for the holidays and not have to answer for it later. 

Hermiones not going home though. 

I thought she always went home. 

Not this year. Her parents are taking a second honeymoon over the holidays. 

Oh. 

Yeah. Was sort of last minute, actually. She said shed been planning ongoing with them, but then all at once last week she decided shed rather stay here.

Draco felt a pang of something he couldnt quite identify at first. Then it hit him with another sharp pangof dismay.  

Youre jealous. 

Am not. Of Granger, are you kidding? 

Shell have the whole three weeks with Harry, all to herself.

Harry doesnt have any interest in her.  

Not now he doesnt. Hes liked girls before. And either way, shes still his friend. Shell be the one whos here for him. Her. Not you. 

Draco, are you all right? 

Draco shook himself out of it and kissed Harry promptly, the kind of kiss that would be certain to drive all thoughts of Mudbloods out of Harrys head, if he ever even had such thoughts to begin with.  

Eventually they managed to separate, and Harry reapplied the blindfold to Dracos eyes for their trek back to the castle. The snow fell in thick sheets all around them, and the wind stung their cheeks as they trudged up the hillside. They used the pretense of wanting warmth as an excuse to cuddle closer, when really Draco just wanted the warmth that was Harry. He took care to put up a royal fuss about having to wear the blindfold again, but inwardly he didnt mind it so much, especially as he had pretty much figured out that the secret tunnel was somewhere just north of the Forbidden Forest by the time they got back to the castle entrance.

To their surprise the main hallway was completely empty. Theyre all at breakfast, Harry said quietly. Draco nodded and began to step out from under the Invisibility Cloakbut Harry caught his waist and held him. Wait for a bit, he whispered. 

Upon turning his head to look at him, Draco was instantly drawn into a fast and passionate kiss, a kiss that was urgent and yearning and beautiful and hard and strong and 

Draco broke away gasping and feeling inexplicably embarrassed. Harry gave him an odd look. I just wanted toyou knowsinceyoure leaving& 

Draco stared back at Harry. Oh, he said, noting the way Harry was still tightly gripping the pendant in his hand. For a moment his blinding desire was to feel Harry clutching him the same way.  

He pulled Harry close and felt a tremor of pleasure and satisfaction run through him at the way Harry respondedso eagerly, as if Draco holding him were Christmas all by itself.  

Merry Christmas, Harry, he said, and kissed him again. 

Draco had always thought that nothing could tear him away from Harry in such momentsfrom the excruciating warmth of being wrapped up in Harrys arms, in his lips, his breath, his smellin Harry. He liked to think, in his most private thoughts, that in such moments the two of them were somewhere far removed from the plane of the ordinary, the usualthat they were untouchable. 

He felt rather than saw the shadow; it sent a shudder running through him, and he broke the kiss just as Harry, eyes widening in alarm, instinctively pulled him against the wall, arms tight around his waist. The door to the Great Hall opened, and the corridor was momentarily flooded with light from its sunshine-filled interior; an instant later two silhouetted figures strode down the corridor towards the school entrance, becoming recognizable only when they spoke: Dumbledore and Professor Snape. 

Severus, meet him outside and stay with him until he leaves. 

Of course. Although I highly doubt that he has any motive in coming here other than ensuring his sons safety. 

Ah, Severus, said Dumbledore reflectively, you give him far more credit for familial feeling than I. 

I give him credit only for being a Malfoy, Snape rejoined. Draco tensed involuntarily under the cloak, wondering what on earth his father was doing thereand why his limbs suddenly felt heavy, his veins frigid. Beside him Harry pressed closer, his arms protectively around Dracos waist. Draco stiffened; he did not need protecting, least of all from his own father.  

Lucius would sooner lie in the lions den than brook the rumor that any member of his family might be in danger, Snape continued acerbically. It would be exceedingly bad press. 

Well, then, let him come. But do not let him out of your sight. If he is in fact here to deliver Draco back to the Manor and not to do reconnaissance for Voldemort, he will not object to your company. 

It will be done, sir. 

Thank you. Go, and meet him at the gate. I will send elves to attend to the carriages. 

Snape gave a nod and strode quickly toward the entrance. Dumbledore made his way back to the Great Hall, his demeanor as placid as ever. The two boys stayed still under the cloak, until all was silent again. 

Your dad is here? said Harry in a low voice. 

So it would seem. Draco shrugged and stepped out from the cloak. Harry appeared a moment later, looking at him with a wistful, wish-we-were-back-at-the-Shrieking-Shack expression. It made Draco slightly uncomfortable. He probably wants to make sure I get home safely, he said briskly. Harry appeared to be on the verge of saying something, then blinked back whatever he was about to say and only looked at him. You know, Draco chided him gently,keep me from waking up on a train floor covered in hex marks. He reached out to tousle Harrys hair, feeling a sudden sharp and unnerving pang at the knowledge he would be unable to touch Harry like this for the rest of the holidays.  

Harrys eyes were on him, round and serious, and he did not laugh, nor did he relax under the gesture. A cold chill formed at the base of Dracos spine and began crawling steadily through him, outside-in, as he lowered his arm away from Harrys face. 

Draco. 

Yes, Harry? 

If your father ever found out about us, what would you do? Harry blurted,and Draco knew he regretted it the moment the words left him. 

Draco stared at him.  

Have you thought about it? 

Draco studied Harry, oddly impassive, wondering how he could be calm under a gaze that intense. Right now, I think if I dont get back to my room before my father does, I might be forced to think about it a lot sooner than is absolutely necessary,wouldnt you agree? 

Harry was gripping the necklace with all his might. Draco could see where it cut intothe curve of his clenched fist, leaving a red crevice in his palm around the stone. For along moment he only looked at Draco; then, without a word, he drew the cloak around them again. Before Draco could register surprise, Harrys lips were on his, pulling him into a deep, urgent kiss. 

Harry had never kissed him quite like that before: his lips were hungry and hard, desperate and driving. Afterward, it was this kisshasty, anxious, and urgentthat he would think of first, whenever he thought of Harrys kisses; and he would regret the fact that he was the first to pull away.  

When he did, he found Harrys eyes brimming with anxiety. It doesnt matter, Harry said in an odd voice. None of it matters. Youd better go. 

Harry 

Harry leaned in to nuzzle his cheek and, Draco fancied, to breathe in his scent. 

Everything will be fine, Draco ended, but he wasnt sure if Harry registered the words. 

Merry Christmas, Draco, he said, and then he pushed Draco firmly away and out from beneath the cloak. 

Almost in the same instant they heard voices just outside the door to the front entrance of the castle, and footsteps coming up the stairs. Draco threw one last, speaking look towards the place where Harry stood, and hurried towards the dungeons. 

He arrived in time to surprise Crabbe and Goyle, who were making a late start for breakfast, with his appearance. While they watched he dragged out his trunk, threw it open, and tucked his Christmas present in the folds of his favorite robes. He let his fingers trail over the ancient cover, still a little in shock that Harry would have given him something this remarkable while having no idea of its true value. The book he was touching could easily be worth the Malfoy fortune. After a moments hesitation he cast a concealment spell, then a protective cloaking spell that could technically have gotten him thrown out of Hogwarts. The folds of his robes shimmered and sealed themselves tightly over Slytherins memoirs. Now no one would ever be able to see it, or break the concealment spells, unless they knew what they were looking forand there really wasnt much possibility of that. 

Crabbe and Goyle were watching all this with detached, or maybe just sluggish, interest. What is that, Malfoy? one of them asked. 

Something rare, Malfoy said, closing the trunk. He muttered a locking spell and started flattening his rumpled hair as best as he could. A Christmaspresent. 

Who from? Goyle asked, eyeing him as he grimaced at himself in the mirror. 

Harry Potter. 

My dear boy, either you slept in a barn, or spent the night shagging something rotten, or both, the mirror informed him in an offended voice. You look absolutely plebeian. 

Draco blinked, momentarily mortified, and Crabbe and Goyle burst into laughter. After a moment Draco joined them, still glaring at the mirror. As he hurriedly pulled on fresh clothes and robes, Crabbe mused, But where were you last night? Really? 

With Potter, of course, replied Draco glibly, satisfied that his clothes at least were presentable, though his hair still stuck out at appalling angles. They snickered; over the weeks his references to private trysts with Potter had turned into a running joke, and neither of them had any clue that the jokes were nothing more than the honest and rather elaborate truth. We were tucked away in our private little nest of love, tasting of delights that dare not speak their name. 

He turned to flash them a brilliant grin, and met instead the rigid gaze of his father, standing in the doorway along with Professor Snape, behind an abashed Crabbe and Goyle. They might have brought along an arctic wind or two as well, so cold did the room turn the moment the two men entered. Were you indeed, Mr. Malfoy? Snapes penetrating gaze belied the bemused tone and the smirk he wore.

His father remained unsmiling. 

You will refrain from speaking of such abominations even in jest, he said sharply by way of a greeting. 

Draco lifted his chin. Of course, father, he replied, voice dropping a notch or two in warmth to adjust to the new emotional temperature of the room. 

He wondered briefly which was the abomination in question: the delights that dared not speak their nameor just Harry Potter. 

Predictably, Harry was pounced on when he reached the Gryffindor table. 

Harry! 

There you are! 

We thought youd missed saying goodbye to everyone! 

Harry, where have you been?  

This last question, sternly directed at Harry from Hermione, caused a frenzy of echoes from everyone else. Harry shifted uneasily and sat down on the bench next to Ron.Erdidnt Ron tell you? He blinked at her. 

Hermione pursed her lips and gave him a hard look. Ron said something ridiculous about a dog named Snuffles, she answered for the benefit of the table. Fred looked at George, and they snickered in unison. But frankly, I dont believe it, Hermione continued. Next youll be telling me youre sneaking around after dragons 

Harry flinched. Ron jabbed her in the ribs. 

Hermione raised her eyebrows. Named Fluffy, she ended significantly, watching Harry closely. 

Actually, Harry was rendezvousing with the giant squid, Fred jumped in. 

Right, Harry had to give him his Christmas present, you know, George chimed. 

Of four pairs of galoshes 

And diving goggles. 

Everyone laughed except Hermione, who continued to eye Harry. Harry proceeded to stir his eggs and focus nowhere and think of Draco. He thought about Draco while the twins made perverted jokes about giant squids and horrified all the women at the table; he thought about Draco while Parvati administered a slap to Fred for the one about tentacle sex; he thought about Draco while Ron rambled on about a dream hed hadthat was until Ginny, sounding distressed, entreated him not to talk about it. 

Oh, dont say anymore, RonHagrid told us you shouldnt tell your dreams before breakfast or theyll come true.  

Oh, please, Ginny, you know how superstitious he is. Besides, Im halfway through with breakfast! 

Trelawney says so too, Dean reminded him. 

Ron scoffed. Yeah. Theres the voice of authority. 

Lavender promptly squealed and leapt to an impassioned defense of her favorite teacher, while Hermione rolled her eyes. Fred listened to the two of them argue about ithis cheek was still red from the imprint of Parvatis handand finally chimed in reflectively, You know, Hermione, Lavenders got a point. Trelawney may be an old bat now but back in the day she was a bloody good Seer. 

Hermione straightened in her chair and leveled a glare at Fred before launching into what Harry instantly recognized as her supremely indignant mode. But that sort of magic is totally rubbish! Divination has nothing to do with any kind of science! Its not like Arithmancy where you use the facts of numerical equations. Its all guesswork! I mean, honestly, I could give a good reading if I knew a few facts about you, and youd never be able to prove I wasnt making it all up. 

Yes, but could you predict specific documented events before they happened?George asked. 

How do you mean? 

Because Trelawney did. George straightened in his chair. People used to come to her from all over the world for a reading. 

How do you know? asked Seamus. 

Percy, Fred explained. Went through a phase a while back where he was doing research on all kinds of mystical prophecies and soothsayersanything involving Divination. 

Apparently Trelawneys something of a cult legend, George affirmed.He told us all about it. 

Harry found it hard to imagine the twins voluntarily listening to anything Percy had to say, on any subject, but George was getting really animated now, and the rest of the table was listening avidlyin no little part because it was the most any of them had ever heard George speak at one time, Harry guessed. 

A lot of people thought she was a hoax, but then just as many people claimed she had successfully predicted this or that event in their lives. The details were all mostly unsubstantiated because Trelawney always insisted on absolute privacy during her readings. She wouldnt let anyone else watch because she said too many people clouded the reception of her Inner Eye or whatever. Seamus sniggered, but shut up promptly when Lavender glared at him. 

But then after one prophesy, George continued, she went to Dumbledore and told him what had happenedwhat she had seen. After that she said she had no intention of reading privately anymore, and Dumbledore offered her a job here at Hogwarts. 

But why go to Dumbledore? Hermione asked. Harry doubted anyone would ever see her this concerned about Professor Trelawney again. 

Apparently one of the people that had come to her for a reading was none other than You-Know-Who. Everyone gasped, and most of them instinctively looked at Harry,who looked down and stirred his eggs. No one knows what she told him for certain because apparently he memory charmed her right after. 

Memory charmed, Seamus blurted. Why didnt he justyou know? He made a ripping sound and drew a line across his throat. The girls grimaced. 

Maybe he wanted to keep her around, Fred answered. See if she had other visions. 

George nodded. Only he didnt count on her having the same vision again. Trelawney went into a trance one night and this time, still in the trance, she wrote down everything she saw. Then later, after shed come out of it, she remembered that she had had the vision before during her reading for You-Know-Who, so she went straight to Dumbledore and told him he paused. 

Well? Told him what? Ron asked.  

Georges glance darted for a split-second over to Harry, who was at first baffled; then it hit him and his stomach plunged. Go ahead, he urged George, with what he hoped was a reassuring nod. 

&Told him You-Know-Who would fall at the hands of a child, and that his reign of destruction would end. 

Harry's classmates seemed to let out a collective breath all at once. 

Butis that all? Hermione scoffed. Anyone could predict that. Its nothing but conjecture. You-Know-Whos reign will endI mean, really, could she be more vague? 

It wasnt vague, George insisted. Percy said she was very specific. She never talks about it now but apparently she saw the whole thing. She wrote down facts, actions, lots of details. 

What do you mean? Harry asked unthinkingly. Dumbledore knew Voldemortwas going to kill my mum and dad? 

Everyone winced as he spoke Voldemorts name. No, Harry, George said gently. Trelawney didnt know it was your parents she was seeing. She couldnt see facesshe just knew what was happening without actually seeing it. She didnt see a baby getting a scar eithershe saw someone she referred to during the trance as Horus. 

Horus? Seamus asked. 

Its a Roman god, Hermione said tersely. 

Egyptian, Parvati corrected. 

I think I know my gods and goddesses, Hermione said in a chilly tone. 

And I think Id know a bit about Egypt since my mother grew up there and has taught me the myths for years, Parvati snapped.  

That was evidently the wrong thing to say to Hermione; the boys watched in alarm and no little admiration as the two girls promptly began a heated argument about who Horus was(Hes the sun-god! No, not the sun-god, that was Osiris!). Harry just shook his head and ate his eggs. In the end it was Dean who chided the two of them back into politeness by pointedly clearing his throat and reminding them that it was the season to be jolly and whatnot.  

Hermione calmed down, but still looked exceedingly put out. Parvati just tossed her hair and sat back in her chair, relaxing. In some myths, she said, with the serene tone of one who felt she had just won an argument and could now be gracious, Horus was the twin brother of the serpent god, Set. But thats just one version. In others hes the sun-god, the child determined to seek vengeance after Set killed his father.  

She started to continue but suddenly caught herself and bit her lip with a guilty look at Harry. Harry, who had only been half-listening, had to blink a few times before he caught the significance of what she had said, and of the anxious glances at him from around the table. He frowned and rolled his eyes. So what? She saw a sun-god battling a snake. Yep. Sounds like a good prediction to me. 

The others laughed, half in relief. Ron said, See? triumphantly to Hermione, who only hmphd and looked put out; and Parvati lowered her head and began eating again, looking thoughtful. Harry wondered if there was more to the myth than shed shared. He thought about the coincidence of Set being a snake-god, and, as one thought led to another, found himself wondering if anyone else knew that the Dark Lord had once been in Slytherin. 

He glanced over at Ginny, who was also eating and otherwise quiet as usual. What did she know about Tom Riddle? Did she know he had been in Slytherin? Did she remember anything that happened in the Chamber? Did she know Riddle was Voldemort?  

Did she dream about him? 

Ginny looked up at him just then; instead of looking away he decided to meet her gaze,that meeting of glances when one has been caught staring, halfway between guilt and intrigue. Ginnys look back at him was inscrutable: she did not look like someone who had ever known darknessnot like someone who had nearly died when she was eleven. She didnt look like someone haunted by a shadow of the past. 

But then, he realized with a jolt, neither did he. 

Harry Potter. 

What? Harry started and glanced at Ron. 

The woman in the dream. She said, Harry Potter, and then the wizard 

Potter featuring in your wet dreams again, Weasley?  

Dracos voice, even dulled into that flat drawl, sent thrills of longing and remembrance and excitement through Harry.  

He turned in surprise, and also a little relief; he was sick of dreams, and Draco was more real than anything or anyone else at the moment.

Draco stood in the classic pose: hands clasped in front of him, lip curled into a sneer, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Harry looked around but did not see Lucius Malfoy. The feeling of relief grew. 

Ron, who had turned red, snarled at Draco, and beside him Fred said coolly,Youd know what thats like, wouldnt you, Malfoy. The others snickered, and Dracos expression became withering. Harry smirked, more for the irony of it than anything, biting back the impulse to find some way to touch Draco, to be as near to him as he could. He expected Draco to have an instant retort, but instead he was just studying Harry contemplatively. For a moment Harry just looked back at him, not wanting to say the words that had to be said, or fight the mandatory reasonless fights. 

He had to swallow before he spoke; when he did speak he just sounded tired, not hostile. What do you want, Malfoy? 

Before Draco could respond, Fred, in an evident determination to pay Draco back for the flush Ron still wore, said sarcastically, Malfoy came to wish Harry a Merry Christmascouldnt stand to let his little lovebird say goodbye. He stood and clapped Draco on the shoulder. Isnt that right, Malfoy?  

It was the physical contact that drew an appropriately serpentine hiss from the Slytherin, who jerked away from Freds touch, looking absolutely livid with rage, and sent him a glare that held more venom than all the asps in Egypt. Fred was undaunted, but something about the look sent a shiver down Harrys spine. He rose, level with Draco, awaiting the inevitable confrontation, but not knowing what to expect beyond that. 

Anger oozed from Dracos eyes, his flared nostrils, his clenched fists. For a moment Harry was absolutely certain Draco was about to hit Fred, and he raised his hand instinctively to prevent him; but almost at the same moment Draco quelled the anger in himself, and he exerted a sudden control over himself that was so complete it was chilling. The emotion slid from his eyes, his jaw slackened, his hands relaxed, and instantly it was as if hed never had a moment of anger in his life. Harry had rarely seen anything as ominously calm as Dracos expression. Without tearing his gaze from Freds, he drew his wand from his robes and pointed it unflinchingly at Fredsthroat. Fred raised his eyebrows in complete contempt, but behind them Ginny gasped in real alarm, and Harry suspected it was for her that Fred held up his hands. 

You will never touch me again, Draco said, and it was obvious to everyone watching that he meant it. Slowly he lowered his wand and allowed Fred to sit back down.Fred rolled his eyes in disgust. Malfoy smirked, then nodded to Crabbe and Goyle, who grunted and moved to join the Slytherins at their own table. Harry was the only Gryffindor standing; the others watched expectantly, and he thought how odd it was that they all assumed so naturally that Draco was his territory to deal with.  

He wondered what would happen if he were to touch Draco nowput a hand on his shoulder or attempt to wrest the wand away from his clenched fingers. Would he be met with the same wand-point as Fred? Or would it be his right? Was it Dracos right to touch him as well? 

Potter, Draco said languidly. Harrys eyes snapped to his face. 

What is it, Malfoy? 

Dracos voice flattened. My father wishes to speak with you. 

Harrys eyes widened in surprise. Your father wants to talk to me?Why? 

Behind him, Ron gawked, Your father? Whats he doing here? 

Malfoy ignored Ron completely. Some part of Harry was privately gratified by this. He liked the way Dracos eyes stayed trained on him. He liked the way they glimmered,and the way his hair was all mussed. He liked the shade of Dracos lips in the blinding white light of the sun-filtered room around them. He liked 

Well, Potterare you coming? Draco sounded like a businessman, utterly unemotional. His tone bothered Harry. Didnt the fact that Lucius Malfoy wanted to see him concern Draco, even a little?

What does he want? he snapped. 

I didnt ask. Malfoy was impassive. 

You must have some idea, Harry said stiffly. Draco only raised his eyebrows and motioned with his head towards the door. Harry crossed his arms and shook his head.No way, Malfoy. I wouldnt voluntarily set foot in the same room with Lucius Malfoy if it was the only thing between me and escape from a horde of rabid man-eatingbaboons. 

The others snickered. Dracos eyes flashed. Dont you ever,Pottereverinsult my father again. 

Its not an insult, Malfoy, Harry replied.  

Only to the baboons, Ron added, and the entire table burst into laughter. 

Harry laughed too, and then instantly regretted it when he saw Dracos expression. He felt a complete, utterly new kind of cold starting in the deepest part of his stomach and spreading outward. The feeling, and the pain, was as confusing as the look on Dracos facethat half-livid, half-warning glint in his eyes that made him look like a cat about to pounce.  

In a flash Malfoy raised his wand; Harry stepped in between Draco and Ron just in time to deflect the curse Draco had begun to mutter. He heard someone, probably Ginny, let out an unearthly shriekhis fingers brushed against the wand and spasmed in reaction as though they had grappled a live wirethe curse went wild, and Draco slipped the wandback inside his robes, lunging towards Ron with a snarl. Harry lunged back against him; their bodies pressed together, and for a moment he didnt know whether it was his own blood or Dracos he could feel coursing through his veins.  

Their eyes met, and something shattered inside him at the hardness in Dracos. Come with me, Potter, he spat, struggling unsuccessfully to wrench himself free of Harrys grasp, Or it wont be just my father youll haveinsulted. 

I will never willingly go to your father, Malfoy, Harry seethed, grippinghim harder. 

He ordered me to bring you to him and I intend to, Draco hissed. 

Oh, well, then, thats a real incentive, isnt it?  

Harry was suddenly angrier at Draco than he could ever remember having been.  

Will you blindly carry out whatever he asks of you? What if hed sent you to kill me? Would you just nod and say of course and act like his servant? 

This has nothing to do with me! Draco finally freed himself, shoving back against Harry so forcefully he was propelled back into the Gryffindor table. Plates slid and glasses were knocked over, and several voices cried out in alarm. Harry rose quickly. The people around them were making a broad space for them, and Professor McGonagall was striding quickly and furiously towards them. Harry returned his focus to Malfoy, resisting the urge to draw his wand. Malfoy was barely composedhis fists were clenched and his lips apart in a classic snarl; still, he tossed his now hopelessly disheveled head in an effort to look utterly unruffled. 

Why dont you admit youre just afraid of him, Potter? he said with forced calmness. You dont want to meet him because youre a fucking coward. 

Me? Youre the one whos bending over backwards to do whatever he says without even thinking, Malfoydo you call that strength? 

A direct hit. Malfoy swallowed, and his eyes flashed. Harry continued, feeling his cheeks burning with rage, only half-aware of what he was saying. You think just because you obey your father you have discipline? You think because you respect your family that its okay to mindlessly do whatever he tells you? You think because you have the same last name its okay to support the things he does and the ways hes tried to kill and the lies hes 

Instantly he was cut off as Dracos wand suddenly reappeared, jabbed into the base of his throat.  

Around them gasps and murmurs erupted, and Professor McGonagalls voice broke through the commotion, shrieking at them both and taking god knew how many points from their houses. She was somewhere very close; but Harry saw, comprehended, nothing but Draco. The contact of the wand against his skin was an electric shock of ice. He choked, certain for half a moment that Draco was really about to harm him. Dracos eyes were beyond fury, beyond chillthey held a spark of something utterly merciless; and in that moment Harry suddenly understood, for the first time, what Draco had meant the day he had said to him, This is who I am. 

The ground shifted, or perhaps it was the walls: all at once Harry wasnt sure how he was still standing, or if he was still standing. He knew only a roar in his ears, Dracos voice in his mindDo you still want this? Could you live with yourself?a thudding in his chest, and the look on Dracos face.

When Draco finally spoke, his voice crackled through the silence around them. Harry realized that he had forgotten to exhale, and that his breath was constricting his throat to the point that he was getting lightheaded. Fuck you, Potter, Malfoy said quietly. Do you think Im going to disrespect my father and my family just to spare you the inconvenience? Do you really think I care?

Harry gasped, fighting a nausea that was upturning the world around him and threatening to pull him to his knees. Draco moved closer, so that Harrys face nearly touched his own; so that Harry, who suddenly wanted desperately to back away, had to meet the unspoken dare in Dracos eyes to stay frozen right where he was. He did, and struggled to stay alert and responsive against the blood rushing to his head, leaving the rest of him feeling icy and cavernous.

You can mock my loyalty to them all you want, Draco said slowly, his voice loud and clear, every word crystalline in the vise-like silence around them. The more you mock the clearer it is that youll never understand that kind ofloyalty Dracos eyes darkened, and his tone became urgentand youll never change it. 

Dracos voice held no contrition, only insistence. His tone might have been desperate, or perhaps it was just merely intense. His eyes were alert, fixed on Harrys, searching them. Harry stared back at him dully, seeing but only barely comprehending. 

Never, he said again, and his voice was colder than Harry ever couldhave dreamed. 

Somewhere deep inside him Harry found a reserve of anger and loathinghe forced it past his lips mechanically, ignoring the parts of him that wanted only to curl in on himself and give in to this new, consuming ache.  

Fuck you, he spat back. Your so-called loyalty only shows that you hide your own cowardice behind your fathers, and that you cant, you wont, understand that some things are more important than making your family look good. 

He caught a lightning flash of anxiety in Dracos eyes. Harry clung to it, willing himself to trust that look, to trust Draco, and lifted his chin to look steadily back at him. You can say that, cant you, Potter, Draco said, very softly, almost tenderly. He reached up and ran his finger along Harrys forehead,over the rough line of his scar. You can talk about things being more importantbut you dont know. Harry might have imagined the catch in the back of his throat. How can you? You dont have a family.  

He said it without contempt, without revulsion; and somehow the gentleness in his voice made the knife of his words that much duller, hurting that much more.  

Harry reeled. Something must have told Draco that he had effectively ripped Harry in two, because he slowly lowered the wand and stepped away from him. Instantly Professor McGonagall was there: she seized Dracos shoulder and spun him around. One hundred points from Slytherin for pulling a wand on your classmate, Mr. Malfoy, she sputtered, clearly beside herself. Mr. Potter, seventy-five points from Gryffindor for provoking him. I am ashamed of you both. 

On the contrary, Professor, came the cold, startlingly clear voice of Lucius Malfoy. 

It was the first time in over six months that Harry had seen Lucius, who was striding towards them, languid bemusement plastered all over his ash-white face. Their gazes met for a moment, and Harry, reeling from the fight with Draco, felt a surge of something black and ugly brewing in his veins as he looked back into Lucius hard, glassy eyes. Lucius Malfoy had always sent his spine crawling, but now he seemed even more sinister, more calculating and cruel, than Harry had ever seen him. This man, he told himself, was responsible, solely responsible, for everything that had just happened. Draco was nothing like his father, he thought, desperately willing himself to believe it. Nothing. Regardless of what Draco had just said, just donehe was vibrant and real and alive; Lucius Malfoy was like some kind of walking grave marker: a tall, ancient monument of polished stone. 

Lucius came to stand beside Draco, dropping a hand stiffly on Dracos shoulder. Dracos face went blank in a replica of his fathers, and he straightened where he stood.  

Clearly my son was acting under duress, he continued. His house should win points for his clear thinking in self-defense, rather than having them taken. Very good, Draco, he addressed his son.  

McGonagall bristled. Be that as it may, Mr. Malfoy, I highly doubt you would know all of the circumstances pertaining to the peculiar enmity existing between your son 

He does not, this is true, interrupted Professor Snape, who had followed Lucius in. But I do, and clearly Mr. Malfoy was acting out of self-defense.His gaze traveled over to Draco, who was looking steadily back at Harry. Twenty-five points to Slytherin for quick, level-headed thinking. 

Professor Snape, this is highly unseemly 

Twenty-five more points from Gryffindor for provoking a fight with Slytherin. 

The Hall broke out in a series of hisses and boos. Harry hardly heard them, and he strongly doubted Draco did either. Dracos expression was as languid as his fathers, despite the fact that it kept flitting over Harrys face, in what Harry could only assume was an attempt to gauge his thoughts. Harry kept his face blank, but he trembled slightly, and he saw the people around him in the blanket fog of his own emotions. Lucius showered McGonagall with empty compliments and McGonagall tried unsuccessfully to control her indignation. She and Snape eyed each other in open hostility, before Snapes pointed remark that clearly everything was now in hand and her presence was no longer necessary sent her back to the long table at the end of the Hall, seething in barely suppressed fury. 

Lucius turned to him. Harry Potter, he drawled. His name sounded venomous falling from those lips, and Harry suppressed a shiver, and felt the hair rising on the back of his neck. We have not met since, oh, I believe it has been well over a year. Lucius eyes flashed with challenge, daring Harry to contradict the lie. Harrys lips tightened, and he lifted his chin and said nothing, his gaze darting over to Draco, who remained impassive. Lucius sneered at Harry, and seemed on the verge of snapping at him; but he must have thought better of it, because instead he turned to his son and said curtly, You will give this to Mr. Potter, Draco. I have business with the Headmaster. He drew a long envelope from his robes and handed it calmly to Draco, all without removing his eyes from Harrys face. 

Of course, father. Draco took the envelope without looking at it. He might have flinched at the way his father kept his gaze anchored to Harry, but Harry couldnt be sure.  

Thank you, Draco. Lucius still studied Harry appraisingly, without a flicker of emotion across that impassive face. Consider it an early Christmas card, Mr. Potter.  

Harrys eyes narrowed, but still he stayed silent. He had no intention of taking anything from Lucius Malfoy. 

Lucius head swiveled to fix on the Potions master, who had been watching him keenly, if with what Harry thought was far too much complaisance. Now, Snapesince you insist on dogging my every step, you will take me to Dumbledore and have him explain why he feels so comfortable raiding my carriage. Snape turned with barely an acknowledgment and strode towards the front of the room. With a fleeting glance of distant approval at Draco, Lucius turned and walked towards the front of the room, where most of the teachers were watching him with varying degrees of curiosity and contempt. 

They left Harry and Draco to themselves. He could feel McGonagall staring them down even from the other end of the hall, waiting to pounce should one of them lose his temper again; but Harry had no intention of giving Malfoy the pleasure. 

He eyed the envelope in Dracos hand. Im not taking that, Malfoy. 

Draco chuckled, a low, forced laugh. Why, Potter, he said with a smirk that was almost contemptuous. Too good to touch something defiled by a Malfoy? 

Harry looked at him, pangs of hurt lancing through him with every word. Not hardly that simple, Malfoy, he managed to choke out.  

He turned back to the Gryffindor table, slightly dizzy from the ache. Ron, Hermione,and the rest were looking at him in astonished concern.  

Harry, are you all right? Hermione asked anxiously. 

Whatd that bloody git do to you? 

Really, Weasley, youd think even a mentally defective idiot like you would know better than to talk about the bloody git while hes still within earshot and holding a wand, snapped Malfoy, who had not moved and was glaring at them all. Harry wrenched his gaze away from Draco and sat down beside Ron, shaking his head to clear it of Dracos image.

Go to hell, Malfoy, hissed Ron. Harry, whats going on? Whats that letter?

Bugger all if I know. Ask him why his dads talking to Professor Dumbledore, snapped Harry, without turning around. 

He wants to know why Dumbledore is inspecting his carriage, Malfoy answered coldly. Potter, Ive not got all day. Id appreciate you taking this letter before I shove it down your throat. 

If Dumbledores inspecting your dads carriage, its because he had a good reason to, Malfoy, Ron snapped back. He wouldnt be the first to keep surveillance on your family and he wont be the last. 

Ron, leave it, said Harry wearily, not turning around. Just go away,Malfoy. 

Take the goddamned envelope or Ill open it myself, Potter. 

Harry spun. No, he said, too quickly, alarm lacing his voice. You have no idea whats in that envelope, Malfoy. 

Malfoy smirked and lifted his wand to the letters seal. Wouldnt you love for me to find out, though, Potter? 

Give it here, then, hissed Harry, thrusting his hand out angrily for the envelope. Malfoys smirk grew, and he very gracefully proffered the parchment to Harry, who snatched it out of his hand. You bastard, he muttered bitterly, glaring at Draco with fire in his veins. 

Dracos grip on his wand wavered for just a moment. Harry looked down at it, the polished ebony taking on an ugly, mud-colored hue in his thoughts. When he looked back up he found Draco looking back at him, a silent request for understanding written on his features.  

Almost imperceptibly, Harry shook his head. He lifted the envelope, his eyes pinned to Draco. 

Dracos gaze in return was confident and unalarmed. Hermione gasped and Ron winced, and Harry ripped open the seal.  

Nothing happened. 

After a moment Harry tore his gaze from Draco and forced himself to look down at the parchment. He blinked and did a double take. The parchment was blank except for one line written in the middle. 

Hail to the beast of pride

It was otherwise emptyno inscription or other note. The handwriting, however, was unmistakable to Harry, and his blood ran cold as images of those same letters forming on parchment of their own accord rose to his mind, imprinted in his memory forever. 

Handwritingthe one thing a person could not change no matter how many new shapes or disguises or transformations they took. 

He looked up. Draco was smirking at him. Youre still alive, arentyou? he sneered. Honestly, Potter. 

Harry rose to face him, clenching the letter, ignoring the eager attempts of Ron and Hermione to read it. What the hell does this fucking mean, Malfoy? he asked. 

Draco stiffened. Dont ask me, Potter, he retorted coolly.Im just the messenger. 

You are not just the messenger! Harry exploded. 

The yell echoed around the room, startling everyone. Harry was past caring about any of it.  

You picked the losing side, Potter, he said derisively, saying words he remembered altogether too well, in an imitation of Draco that was all too accurate. You know something, Malfoy? At least Ive picked a side. Whatever happens, remember thatIve chosen my side. You havent chosen anything or anybody except yourself. 

Dracos eyes widened, and real hurt flitted through his expression, hurt so subtle and so well-concealed no one but Harry could have taken it for anything but contempt. At the other end of the hall Dumbledore had paused in mid-argument with Lucius Malfoy to observe them gravely, while Lucius smirked appreciatively, infuriatingly, at them both.

Suddenly Harry couldnt bear it any morehe had to get away, away from Draco,away from his father, away from everything. He turned to the Gryffindors. Im going upstairs, he announced. Goodbye, RonFred, George, everybody. 

He started to rip the parchment into piecesbut it would not tear. In frustration he threw it down on the table, where Hermione promptly pounced on it, and gave a parting nod to his housemates, most of whom just nodded weakly.

He was getting used to the stares at the back of his head anyway. 

He strode up to Malfoy. Youre in my way, he said calmly. 

Forgive me, responded Draco, with equal calmness.  

Harry went rigid and shoved past him. Draco bristled. Potter.  

Dracos voice was stiff, but his eyes were earnest as he looked at Harry. Harry nearly choked as he drank in the smoldering intensity of those eyes, swirling with hurt and uncertainty and anger and pride, where only an hour before they had been lit with something so different; nothing so distant and unfamiliar, but sweet and tender, and still unfathomablealways, always unfathomable. 

Unbidden, the inscription on his mothers necklace rose to Harrys mind: Love,and do what thou wilt. 

He looked at Draco. 

Merry fucking Christmas, Malfoy, he spat.

Harry turned and strode as fast as he could out of the Great Hall. 

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