hd inspiration for xanateria (3)

[hd_inspired_mod]

Author: Anonymous
Recipient: xanateria
Title: On Falcon’s Wings (Part 3 of 3)

On Falcon's Wings Part 3 of 3

Draco had been dreaming of warm arms and a hard body, and awoke slowly, trying to correlate his dream to the reality that he was, in fact, being held in warm arms against a hard body. It took a moment for his waking mind to catch up with his current reality, but finally his eyes drifted open, and he found himself staring at the hard stone wall just inches from his face. He glanced down and saw the well formed masculine hand spread on his chest, felt the weight of an arm around his waist, and remembered.

Potter. It was Potter. Potter, who had saved him from Greyback and MacNair, Potter who had brought him food, and hope. Potter, who could at will, it seemed, turn himself into a ferocious bird. And Potter, who even now, was spooned tight against his back, breathing deeply in sleep, and pressing a formidable erection against the cleft in his arse.

Draco’s breath caught as he felt his own cock throbbing behind the fly of his trousers. He usually awoke hard, but in this case, he thought it had more to do with the company he was keeping than with his body’s customary response. He pressed back against that imposing hardness and his eyes rolled closed in pleasure. It had been so long since he’d been held by anyone, and for it to be Potter…

No, he thought warmly, not Potter. Harry. It was Harry who held him tight, Harry who had been sent by Severus to save him; Harry who had kissed him with such passion before they’d been interrupted by Goyle and Carrow outside of the door. Astounding as it seemed, Harry Potter had admitted to caring about him, and Draco’s tattered heart soared. He’d had a crush on The Boy Who Lived almost from the first moment he’d met him; he’d never for one moment believed that his feelings would be returned.

Oh, he’d put on a good show of despising Potter; so good that there were times when he’d actually believed it himself. But at night, alone in his bed, he’d known the truth. He’d imagined Harry’s scowl, or the fire in his green eyes, and he’d get hard just thinking about him. Or he’d picture the utterly effortless way he moved through the sky on a broom, and ache. And now, he could move that way through a cloudless sunset without benefit of broom, and Draco would never be able to explain what that thought did to him. His cock twitched insistently in his trousers when Harry’s warm breath caressed the back of his ear, and carefully, Draco moved away just enough to roll to his back.

He turned his head to look into Harry’s face, and his heart turned over in his chest, hard. He was so ruddy handsome, he thought, so unconsciously appealing. His hair was longer than Draco had ever seen it, messy as it had always been, but falling in soft waves around his face. His jaw and upper lip were dark with stubble, and Draco thought it very sexy. Finally able to watch him at his leisure, he studied the beautifully arched brows, the straight nose, the full lips parted in sleep, the square chin. His hair covered the famous scar, and in that moment he might have been anyone, just as Draco might have been anyone else as well. Just one young man in another’s embrace, not the son of a Death Eater and the preemptive savior of the wizarding world. Draco reached up and gently touched Harry’s hair, and he made a soft sound in his sleep and turned his face toward the caress. And then he moved, his leg lifting and coming to rest, hard thigh over Draco’s groin, and grey eyes rolled shut as a wash of heat ran over his body from his face to his toes, leaving him breathless and tingling in its wake.

Ignoring the little voice in his head telling him that he shouldn’t take advantage of the situation, Draco slid his left hand lightly down Harry’s hard stomach. His jumper had ridden up in his sleep, and Draco nearly moaned aloud when the sensitive pads of his fingers encountered a springy, slightly coarse trail of hair around his navel. He petted the hair gently for a moment, then pressed his hand further down, over the waistband of the worn jeans until his fingers found the outline of the hard cock distending Harry’s fly. The bulge began low at his groin and curved to the right, caught between his thigh and the denim, and Draco’s breath caught as he traced the significant size and shape of it with his fingers. Harry murmured in his sleep and flexed his hips forward, and Draco paused, then covered the whole of the hard cock with his palm and gently squeezed.

He was watching Harry’s face when his eyes drifted open, black lashes long as any girls lifting to reveal iris’s as green as fresh spring grass. He’d taken off his spectacles at some point, and his eyes were large in his face and seemed oddly vulnerable without the glass in front of them. He blinked a couple of times, then his eyes stared steadily into Draco’s, and for a breathless moment it seemed almost as if he could stare into Draco’s soul. Draco’s hand stilled on him, but when he would have lifted it away, he felt a hand curl around his wrist to hold it in place. Heat traveled the length of Draco’s body as Harry pressed his hand more firmly against him, his eyes never leaving Draco’s. When Draco squeezed him gently in response, Harry’s eyelashes fluttered and his straight white teeth bit into his plump lower lip. It was the sexiest thing Draco had ever seen, and he drew in a sharp breath and rolled onto his side to give his hand more room to move.

With one last firm squeeze, he began to move his palm up and down over the swollen shape, and Harry’s breath hitched in his throat as he pressed his hips forward, pushing himself more firmly into Draco’s palm. Draco’s own lips parted, his breath shortening when Harry released his wrist and skimmed his hand up Draco’s slender thigh. When his fingers reached Draco’s fly, he hesitated slightly, green eyes lifting to Draco’s once again, as if seeking permission.

“Yes,” Draco murmured on a breath, “please.”

Harry’s warm hand spread and tentatively covered him, and Draco’s eyes fluttered closed on a needy moan.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had a man’s hand on him, but just as Harry’s kisses surpassed everything he’d experience before, so too did the feeling of his hand. Large, strong fingers searching and finding the shape of him, stroking the length on a slow slide, squeezing the sensitive head. Draco’s breath caught in his throat and he thrust himself against Harry’s palm, and he heard the caught breath in response. He lifted his eyes to find Harry’s near his own, and he barely had a chance to inhale before his mouth was being devoured in a searching kiss.

Harry’s tongue immediately began to thrust into Draco’s mouth, and Draco’s entire body heated in response. He began to rut slightly into Harry’s palm, and Harry moaned, surging forward, urging Draco over onto his back once again. Harry continued to palm him as he pressed forward, lifting his leg and following until he was on his knees astride him, his mouth still glued to Draco’s. When he finally pulled back and looked down at him, their lips were swollen and they were breathing harshly, staring into one another’s eyes.

Harry was flushed, color staining his cheekbones, green eyes sharp and intense, and Draco thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful. Harry stopped stroking Draco’s erection to reach into his jeans and adjust himself, then dipped his hips and brushed the thick, swollen shape of his cock against the hard line distending Draco’s fly. Draco gasped sharply at the feeling, his hands lifting to clutch at Harry’s arse.

“Shit,” Harry muttered, his voice strained. He moved against Draco again, harder, and the blond whimpered in response. The sweet drag of the hard shape of Harry’s erection along his was sending shocking bursts of pleasure through his body, and his fingers dug into that hard arse just as he flexed forward again.

“Oh!” Draco gasped, neck arching. Almost as if unable to resist the temptation, Harry settled his weight on Draco’s slender form and opened his mouth on his throat, his hips continuing to move.

“Oh, fuck… I… please,” Draco stammered, his heart pounding, his cock throbbing with each pulsing thrust. It was maddening, and frantic. Harry’s breath was sawing against his neck, hot and moist, and Harry’s hard hands had curled around his hips, his thumbs digging in just above his hip bones. But Draco was desperate to move as well and his position beneath Harry, with Harry’s hard thighs outside of his own minimized his range of motion. “Wait, wait…” he said desperately, and Harry lifted his head and stared down into his eyes. His looked slightly unfocused and he was breathing raggedly. “Just… let me…” Draco pushed up on Harry’s hips and he lifted his body away for a moment in response, and Draco spread his long legs and lifted them, capturing Harry’s hips between his knees. He then lifted his arms around Harry’s neck and caught his eyes, offering himself up with a trembling smile. The corner of Harry’s lips quirked slightly, just enough to dimple his left cheek, and he lowered himself back down. The new position of Draco’s body brought then into perfect alignment, and they both moaned as the connection was rejoined, and deepened.

Harry stared into Draco’s eyes, watching his face as he moved against him. Draco returned the stare, his lips parted, moving in perfect counterpoint.

“Am I… doing this right?” Harry gasped, pausing in his movements to grind his hips against Draco in a slow circle. Draco’s eyes rolled toward the back of his head.

“Doesn’t it… feel right?” he gasped, fingers digging into the hard muscles on either side of Harry’s neck.

“Feels… brilliant,” Harry acknowledged, regaining his former maddening rhythm. Draco swallowed heavily, loving the drag and slide, but knowing of something that they’d both like more.

“There is… something else…” he managed.

Harry paused immediately. “What?” he asked instantly, green eyes keen.

“Lift for a second,” Draco ordered gently, and Harry immediately complied. When Draco’s hands went to his waistband and began to unfasten his jeans, Harry’s eyes widened but he didn’t protest.

It was a bit of a challenge with the significant erection straining the fabric, but finally Draco was able to get the jeans open, and he pushed both the denim and cotton pants down enough to free Harry’s hard, reddened cock. The sight of it, the graceful arc of flesh curving upwards from its nest of pitch black hair and reaching nearly to Harry’s navel, made Draco’s mouth water. He curled his hand around it and reveled in the velvety soft skin over the hard core. Harry’s eyes fluttered closed and his mouth dropped open.

“Ah, damn,” he groaned, thrusting instinctively through Draco’s fist. “That’s…oh, shit…uh… God…”

“Wait, wait, stop,” Draco said quickly, recognizing Harry’s desperation, the tightness beginning to pull at the corners of his mouth. He squeezed around the thick base hard, and Harry winced, but stopped moving. A single shining drop of pearly pre-come beaded in his slit.

Draco’s shaking hands went to his own trousers then, but he managed to unfasten them and shove them down enough that they were out of the way. His own cock, slender and pale, slapped flat against his belly and Harry exhaled heavily, reaching down to touch it with almost reverent fingers. Draco gasped at the feeling of those calloused pads touching him and he licked dry lips.

“Now, lower your hips,” he instructed breathlessly and Harry did, pressing his hardness along the side of Draco’s. He gasped and shuddered when Draco spit into his hand, then curled his long fingers around both cocks and gripped them hard. “Harry.” Harry’s green eyes seemed transfixed by the sight of his cock and Draco’s held in that pale hand, but he lifted them when Draco said his name. Breathless, nearly overwhelmed by the feeling, Draco’s voice emerged as a rough gust of sound. “Move.”

Harry thrust forward almost tentatively, then groaned, his head falling back, holding his chest and shoulders off of Draco’s body as he began to move more quickly through the tight grip of his fist. Draco could feel the spit lubed slide, and thrust his hips up in perfect counterpoint to Harry’s movements. It wasn’t long before pre-come was lubricating their slide, as well.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry moaned, his hair bouncing on his forehead as he moved hard against Draco’s cock, into Draco’s hand. “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck…”

For Draco’s part, he couldn’t form words, just incoherent sounds and guttural groans. This was so far beyond anything he’d ever felt before as to be unrecognizable: the dragging glide of Harry’s stiffened flesh along his own, the hard body between his legs, the coiled strength in each emphatic thrust. Harry’s speed increased and the small bunk began to creak rhythmically beneath them, but they didn’t notice the discordant squeak. And then Harry’s eyes opened, and he looked down into Draco’s, and they were so green and so hot and so desperate, desperate for him, that Draco felt his orgasm streak down his spine and into his balls, only to erupt from his body, thick slick ropes of white that shot from his hand onto his chest. He was still shuddering and gasping, his body strung as tight as a piano wire, when Harry cried out and Draco felt the rush of Harry’s release joining his own in his hand and on his stomach. The heavy muscles above Harry’s hipbones and across his lower stomach stood out in stark relief as Harry’s body went stiff and shuddered, hanging above Draco for several moments before he allowed his elbows to bend and he collapsed on top of Draco’s still heaving chest, his face in the fragrant curve between Draco’s neck and shoulder.

They did not move for several minutes. Hearts eventually slowed their maddened rhythm and breathing returned to normal, but still Harry did not move away. Finally, Draco had the presence of mind to lift his hand and gently run his fingers through the damp thickness of Harry’s hair. He turned his face, his mouth against Harry’s ear.

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

“I’m brilliant,” Harry grunted and lifted his head, finding Draco’s eyes. The green eyes were gleaming, and a slight smile pulled at the corner of his full lips. “And you?”

“Messy,” Draco answered with a slight smirk that did nothing to detract from his merrily dancing eyes. Harry lifted his body and glanced down, grimacing.

“So you are. And so am I.”

He sat back on his heals and reached into the sleeve of his jumper, withdrawing his wand. With a softly muttered spell, the sticky mess on Harry’s stomach and sweater, and on Draco’s, vanished. Harry placed his wand back in his sleeve, and slowly lowered himself back down onto the slender body, his face nuzzling into the curve of Draco’s neck.

“Better?” Harry murmured.

“Much.”

Silence surrounded them for a while after that. Draco lifted his arms around the sturdy body, ran his hands over the bunched muscles in the long, strong back. He could feel Harry’s softened flesh pressing against his lower stomach, and there was a poignant intimacy to the moment. He closed his eyes, vowing to remember each touch, each kiss, each gentle caress, in case…

“Draco.”

Draco blinked his eyes open and stared at the shadowy ceiling far above them. “Yes?”

Harry didn’t lift his head or speak again for a long moment, and Draco lifted one hand to the back of his head in encouragement.

“This… this wasn’t a one off, was it?” Still, Harry did not lift his head. His face remained pressed into Draco’s throat, but for the first time since he’d appeared in Draco’s cell, his voice sounded achingly young and uncertain. Draco fisted his hand in the thick strands of hair and pulled slightly, urging Harry to lift his head. When he did, Draco searched the wary green eyes.

“What do you want it to be?” he asked, equally unsure. He watched as Harry dampened his swollen lips with his tongue.

“I want it to be… more than that,” he answered. “I know that things are… weird, right now. I have no idea what’s going to happen next. But I want you to know that…”

He paused again, and Draco held his gaze as Harry searched his face. “What?” he finally prodded gently. “You want me to know… what?”

Harry swallowed heavily. “I want you to know--” he reached up and laid his palm against Draco’s cheek, “-that I care about you. A lot. And once we get you out of here, I want you to stay… you know, with me. If, you want, that is…”

He looked so resolute and yet nervous that Draco felt his heart turn over in his chest. The corner of his lips quirked. “I want,” he whispered, his fingers releasing the thick hair to slide down to the strong nape. “I want… very much.”

Relief flowed into Harry’s eyes and a slight smile pulled at his mouth as he lowered his head and kissed Draco with both sweetness and a gentle longing. Draco could not help but respond to the need in that kiss, and he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and parted his lips...

The cot jerked and rocked, wooden legs scrapping across the stone floor several inches, and the two young men clutched each other as Harry lifted his head and they looked around the cell. The lingering ring of a loud explosion was fading on the early morning air, and dust was sifting down from the ceiling, accompanied by the sound of pebbles raining onto the floor. The silence that followed seemed both stunned and weighted, then was split when another loud explosion rocked the tower.

Harry sat up, pulling Draco with him, curling over him to protect him as debris rained down from the ceiling.

“What the fuck…” he muttered, pulling his wand and peering around even as he tucked Draco close to his chest.

“It’s an attack,” Draco said breathlessly. “Maybe your friends…”

“It’s about bloody time!” Harry said grimly, sitting back just enough to right his denims and button them closed, then leaning over and finding his spectacles on the floor. Belatedly, Draco realized he was still exposed, and yanked up his trousers. From deep within the castle, they could dimly hear the sounds of shouting and smaller explosions. “I need to see if it’s our side,” Harry said quickly. Draco’s heart shot into his throat, and he grabbed Harry’s sleeve.

“Don’t go out there,” he said quickly, fingers digging into the flesh beneath the knitted fabric. Harry found his eyes, his own determined.

“Draco, I need to see who it is,” he explained tautly. “It only follows that it would be our side…”

“Your side,” Draco interrupted faintly. Harry went very still.

“My side is your side,” he said staunchly. “Isn’t it?”

“Your friends won’t believe that.”

“They will…” Harry argued.

“Harry,” Draco said softly. “They won’t.”

Another explosion made the floor lurch, and Harry clutched Draco’s arms hard as the cot rocked. Rocks tumbled down from the crumbling corner, falling both into the tower room and bouncing away to the ground far below. Now screams could be heard in the distance. Harry’s eyes came back to Draco’s as the room settled.

“They will believe it,” he repeated adamantly. “I’ll make them.”

Draco stared into the stubborn green eyes, then nodded faintly.

“Okay,” Harry said more firmly. “You get under the cot. It will protect you from anything that falls from the ceiling. Here, take this…”

He pulled the wand out of his sleeve and held it out, and Draco stared at it, recognizing it for the first time. “That’s Severus’ wand,” he wheezed, stunned.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “He gave it to me when he sent me after you. Mine got broken. Take it.”

“No,” Draco argued, shaking his head. “You need it more than I do…”

“I can’t use it while I’m the bird, Draco,” Harry said tautly. “Take it! I’ll come back for it.” Draco hesitated only a moment more, then took the wand from Harry’s hand. Immediately, he felt a jolt of raw power surge up his arm. “Now, get down. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

Draco nodded but didn’t move as Harry turned his back and lifted his head. He’d never seen the transformation in full light before, and he stared in wide-eyed fascination as Harry’s tall, lanky form began to shift and change, shrink to a smaller size, legs pull in, head pull down and change, long arms lift and spread and suddenly sprout feathers. Where moments before Harry Potter had stood, a stunningly beautiful falcon lifted, great wings flapping loudly. The bird shot toward the ceiling, but turned at the last moment and circled back towards Draco, and for the first time he saw the proud head and beak clearly, the small pale lightning bolt shaped marking above the right obsidian black eye; one of a pair that were fixed on him. The bird dove, that fearsome screech emitting from the curved beak, and a wing clipped Draco on the top of head as he crouched down. It was as if he were saying, “get under the bunk, you idiot,” and Draco couldn’t help the slightly breathless chuckle that erupted as he hurried to obey.

“All right, all right,” he mumbled, rolling off of the rough bed and shimmying under it, his back flat on the hard floor. “Pushy.” He peered out from under the bunk as the bird shot back towards the ceiling and out into the cloudy sky. “God, you’re beautiful,” he muttered to himself as the bird vanished from view, then pulled his head back to safety, the wand clutched in his hand.

More explosions rocked the old tower, and Draco was grateful that Harry had made him crawl to safety when he heard rocks bounce off of the surprisingly sturdy frame above him. He could hear more distant shouting, smaller blasts interspersed with the louder ones, and he tried to regulate his breathing. There was no way to know who was out there, no way to know whose side was winning. From the shouts he could hear drifting up through the floor, he thought there was a sound of desperation from the Death Eaters within the keep, but he rationalized that he could be imagining it. When loud footsteps suddenly sounded outside the cell door, he pushed himself closer to the wall, trying to make himself as small as he could, his heart jumping into his throat.

“Bombarda Maxima!”

He heard the ragged shout, then covered his head with his arms as the door blew off its hinges and flew across the room to crash into the far wall. Draco tried to regulate his breathing in the following silence, to remain as still as he could, but then the cot above him was lifted as if by invisible hands and loudly joined the door in pieces against the stone. He uncovered his head and looked up, the heart that had been in his throat sliding into his stomach. It was Weasley, red hair a glowing corona around a vividly flushed face, blue eyes flashing fire, wand pointed at his head. Just behind him was Granger, curls a hectic mess, her face pale, brown eyes almost black as she, too, stared at him.

“Get up!” Weasley shouted, mouth curled in an ugly snarl. Draco felt frozen in place. “I said get up, you wanker, or I’ll splatter you all over the wall!”

“Ron,” Granger said tightly. “Give him a chance.”

“I’m not giving him a fucking thing. Expelliarmus!” The wand flew from Draco’s lax hand into Weasley’s, and he caught it neatly, pocketing it without looking at it. “Now get up! Get up, you bastard!”

Draco pushed himself up from the floor, immediately pressing his back against the stone wall. He stared at Weasley warily.

“Now,” the red head asked darkly, “Where is Harry?”

Draco blinked. “I… but…”

“Stop stammering, and tell me what you’ve done with Harry before I remove your head from your body!” The wand was lifted and pointed directly at Draco’s head, and he stared at it, heart galloping in his chest.

“Ron,” Granger tried again, pulling on Weasley’s cloak, “he was locked in here. He probably doesn’t know anything. Let’s take him down to Lupin…”

“I don’t believe it,” Ron snarled, his eyes never leaving Draco’s. “You and I both know this git would do anything to hurt Harry…”

“You’re wrong.” Draco found his voice, and was relieved that it didn’t quaver. Weasley’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened.

“What did you say?” he growled. Draco forced himself to square his shoulders.

“I said,” he repeated with more strength. He’d be damned if he’d cower before this blustering fool. “You’re wrong, Weasley. But that’s something you should be used to.”

“Why you little…” Weasley’s eyes narrowed and he pulled his wand arm back, and Draco stiffened, steeling himself for the curse, when a blood curdling scream rent the air. Weasley looked around frantically, blue eyes wide. Moving like a comet, a blurred shape dove from the ceiling and collided heavily with Ron’s wand arm, knocking it aside, before shooting upwards towards the ceiling again. Clearly acting on instinct, Weasley recovered and pointed his wand up.

“No!” Draco screamed, lurching forward.

“Ron, its Harry!” Hermione cried out at the same time, clutching his shoulder, but it was too late.

“Stupefy!” Weasley shouted over both of them, and a jet of white light shot from the tip of his wand and slammed into the arching body of the falcon.

There seemed an almost surreal moment of suspension; Granger’s mouth opened on a silent scream, Draco’s hand over his, Weasley’s sneer frozen on his face. And up near the corner of the room, poised in mid-flight, the elegant bird melted away, its shape growing and shifting until what remained was a dark-haired young man in tattered denims and a lumpy jumper, eyes closed behind the lenses of spectacles that incongruously reflected the grey light outside. He hung awkwardly for a moment, then plummeted to the unforgiving floor, landing in an ungainly heap accompanied by the sickening sound of bones crunching.

They all stared at the fallen form for a moment, then Draco shoved himself away from the wall to go to Harry, but Weasley moved at the same time, his arm going around Draco’s throat.

“Get off of me, you fucking arse!” he snarled, jabbing back hard with his elbow. Weasley grunted, but didn’t let go.

“Ron stop, stop it!” Granger was shouting, but Weasley ignored her. Finally, beyond frantic, Draco opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the freckled forearm beneath his chin as hard as he could. There was a blood curdling yell, and then Weasley released him, yanking his arm back.

“Bastard bit me!” he shouted, but Draco wasn’t paying attention. He’d fallen to his knees next to Harry, hands reaching out but pausing when he saw the awkward angle of his right arm. It was bent between his shoulder and his elbow, caught beneath his body at a completely unnatural angle. More worrisome, there was a bleeding lump on his right temple.

“Oh, God,” Draco muttered, wanting to touch but unsure if it was a good idea. “Oh, God, oh, God…”

“Shut UP, Ron!” Granger finally shouted, shoving him aside, rushing to kneel next to Draco. She drew her wand and waved it first over the misshapen arm; “Broken,” she muttered. Then over his forehead; “Concussion,” she added softly, grimacing. She turned her eyes to Draco, and had he not been so frantic, he’d have been gratified that there was no animosity in them. “Help me straighten his arm,” she said gently. “It will be much less painful if I heal it while he’s out.”

Draco nodded and reached for the twisted arm, his hands trembling.

“Don’t you touch…” Weasley had started to shout. Draco froze, but Granger whirled, her eyes wild.

“Shut it, Ron Weasley,” she said, her wand pointed at his face. “Before I hex you into the next century. You’ve done quite enough, thank you very much. Be grateful he didn’t break his neck, no thanks to you!” She turned back to Draco, swallowing. “If I roll him, can you…”

Draco nodded. Hermione grasped Harry’s shoulder and rolled him forward, and Draco lifted the limp arm carefully.

“Go on, Draco. Straighten it,” she said softly. He did, and they both shuddered at the sound of bone grinding when he did. “Pull,” she instructed, watching the arm. He did, but not hard enough. “No, harder.” This time, he felt something pop, and she nodded. Lifting her wand again, she waved it over the shattered arm, murmuring several spells, and Draco felt the magic she was using pulsate beneath his fingers. He actually felt the limb stiffen as it settled back into a more natural line. Hermione exhaled.

“Alright, we can wake him now. Ennervate,” she said firmly, and they leaned forward over Harry and watched his face carefully.

The long black lashes fluttered behind the lopsided spectacles, then opened, closing immediately again on a pained moan as his newly mended arm lifted and his hand touched his forehead. “What the bloody hell happened?” he hissed, gently probing the lump on his forehead.

“Ronald,” Hermione answered curtly.

“Hey, I…” Weasley began, then stopped, his shoulders slumping. “I forgot about the bird, okay? And it was attacking me, I’d like you to remember.” The red head paused then, a frown between his eyes. “I was acting on instinct.” Then, as if remembering what had precipitated the attack, Ron frowned. “Hey, why were you…?”

Harry’s eyes shot open then and he winced, but looked around quickly until he found Draco, kneeling at his side. “Are you all right?” he asked, reaching out his hand. Draco clasped it in his and brought it to his chest. Draco heard Ron’s sharp inhalation, and saw the understanding dawn on Granger’s face as she looked between them. There really was no pulling anything over on her.

“I’m fine,” Draco answered, leaning over Harry, touching his hair with his other hand. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, frowning. “Head hurts.”

“You… fell,” Draco said softly, skimming his fingers over the swollen spot on his forehead. “You’ve quite the lump, here.”

“I can fix that,” Hermione said efficiently, leaning forward. “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything more serious than a concussion before I did. Look at me, Harry.”

He did, and as she checked his eyes, Draco realized that the sounds of battle had faded away. “Is it all over… down there?” he asked tentatively.

She glanced up at him as she executed a few intricate wand motions, and the bleeding on Harry’s forehead stopped. “Lupin, Dawlish and Tonks have it in hand,” she said curtly, murmuring another spell that had the swelling on Harry’s forehead gradually disappearing. “They’ve got Goyle and the Carrow’s in custody.” She looked away, her mouth hardening. “MacNair and Greyback are dead.”

“Good,” Draco said tightly, and she looked back up at him. If she was surprised by his tone, it didn’t show. They shared a look of inherent accord. Harry’s hand tightened around Draco’s, and he looked down into the green eyes.

“Then, you’re free,” he said softly, eyes searching Draco’s.

Draco returned Harry’s level look. “I suppose… I am.”

Ron stepped forward then, his wand pointed directly at Draco’s face. “He isn’t going anywhere,” he said tautly, square jaw hard. “He’s a Death Eater, and I’m holding him for the Aurors.”

“Ronald, honestly!” Hermione whirled, curly hair flying. “He was locked in here! If he were on their side, they wouldn’t have locked him away up here, they’d have had him down there fighting with him!”

“I still don’t buy that,” Ron shouted. “We still don’t know what Harry was doing here! For all we know, Snape put him under some sort of … Imperious, or something, and sent him here so that they could catch him!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Harry started to push himself up from the floor, but struggled, and Draco took his arm and helped him to his feet. He steadied himself with a deep breath, and turned on Ron. “I am not Imperioused. I came to save Draco, because…”

“Draco?” Ron interrupted, his mouth curled in distaste. “Since when are you calling him Draco?”

The two men exchanged a quick look, and Draco’s pale face filled with color as he glanced sheepishly away. Ron watched them with growing consternation.

“What in hell is going on here?!”

They were saved further explanations by the providential arrival of Remus Lupin, who came to the doorway, then paused, his battered, dirty face showing his relief when he saw Harry. He crossed to him and pulled him into a hard embrace.

“Thank God,” he said, his hand coming up to the back of Harry’s head. Harry encircled him with his arms as well, squeezing him tight. “You’re all right, then?” Lupin asked hoarsely, and Harry nodded. He held him back at arms length and studied the young man’s face carefully. “You can’t go haring off like that, Harry. You frightened us all to death.”

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Harry said sincerely, “but it was important.”

Remus looked over his square shoulder and saw Draco standing hesitantly behind him, and his eyes came back to Harry. Harry didn’t duck his gaze, and after a moment, he just nodded once in understanding before stepping back.

“He’s with us, then,” Lupin said softly. Harry nodded.

“He’s with us?” Ron wheezed, dumbfounded. “Since when?”

“Since now,” Harry said, his eyes hardening as he looked on his childhood friend. “And you’re just going to have to trust me, Ron.”

“I trust you,” he muttered, but he let it drop.

Lupin ran his hands through his mussed graying hair. “We need to get out of here,” he said wearily. “We’ve got this group taken care of, but if more come back, we aren’t prepared.”

“Let’s go then,” Harry agreed.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked, looking to Harry for an answer.

“If I may?”

They all turned to Draco; Harry, Hermione and Lupin watchful, Ron silently fuming. Draco’s eyes found Hermione’s. “Is Severus alive?”

He knew before she spoke that the answer was no. The compassion on her face was kind, but it cut through him and he inhaled quickly. Harry stepped to his side and slipped his arm around him; Ron turned his back and crossed his muscular arms in irritation.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” she murmured. “He was gone by the time Ron and I got back to the tent…”

Draco nodded quickly and straightened, pushing his grief away for another time. “Then, I would suggest that you might need to go to Hogwarts.”

They all exchanged a quick look; even Ron turned back, ginger brows arched.

“Why Hogwarts?” Harry asked, brow furrowing. Draco turned and looked into his eyes.

“Because he left something for you,” he answered softly. “A vial. I think it contains some of his memories. And something that once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. They’re in his quarters, in a hidden cupboard. And I know the spell to unlock it.”

The silence that followed was thick. Ron and Hermione were clearly gobsmacked, but Harry’s eyes brightened with sudden comprehension.

“He knew…” Hermione sputtered.

“Yes,” Draco answered, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. After a moment, Harry lifted his hand and held it out to Draco.

“Then, Hogwarts it is,” he said resolutely. Draco started to curl his hand around Harry’s, but Harry linked their fingers instead.

“How are we even going to get in?” Ron said in exasperation. “The damn place is warded to keep everyone out. It’s not like we can just walk up to the gate and ask to be let in.”

“I know a way,” Draco said softly.

Harry looked at him, a slow smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You might prove to be really valuable,” he teased, and Draco knew he blushed.

As they left the tower room, Harry pulling Draco and leading the others as they headed down the circular stone staircase, Draco could hear Weasley grousing behind him, hear Granger’s tart answers, but the strength of Harry’s hand in his was the only thing that Draco concentrated on.

That, and the resolute knowledge that he was exactly where Severus would want him to be.