Invaluable by Twisted Miracle
Title: Invaluable
Author: Twisted Miracle
Type: Fiction
Length: Approximately 7400 words
Main character or Pairing: Harry/Draco
Card: Ten of wands
Card Interpretation: "The place which the figure is approaching may suffer from the rods that he carries."
"The feeling that you can do anything. Gambles can result in great gain. Carries a warning to not take things for granted."
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!
Warnings: Slash between two sixteen year olds.
Summary: Dumbledore has finally unblocked a crucial memory.
Author Notes: First for confiteor_3, then for the Tarot Fest. It’s been reworked a bit, and hopefully improved since the last posting. At least one person beta’d this for me, but, like a moron (cringe), I forgot to record that information anywhere and now I cannot credit her, or them. I apologize.
* * *
Harry was finishing lunch when the owl arrived.
“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked.
“Izzit Dubbledore agin?” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of shepherd’s pie.
Harry unrolled the small scrap of parchment and read it quickly.
Harry, After dinner, please. Bubble Bees.
Harry hid the note in an inner pocket and nodded at Ron.
Harry was hungry that night, but he ate dinner quickly, eager to see what Dumbledore wanted. He opened the gargoyle with “Bubble Bees” while some students were still arriving at the Great Hall to eat, and he rushed up the moving staircase. He was about to knock when the door swung open and saw the Headmaster standing behind the desk, smiling and welcoming him in.
“You wanted to see me, Sir?”
“Yes, Harry.” He stopped to pull his sleeve over his deformed hand. “I have finally obtained a memory that I think will be absolutely instrumental in the retrieval of a horcrux. Won’t you sit down, and I’ll explain?”
Harry sat on the edge of his seat, refused a small candy, and listened carefully.
Dumbledore’s face opened up into a warm, kindly smile. “I believe you remember a house-elf named Dobby?”
Harry nodded, surprised.
“Dobby seemed a likely source for memories that could be helpful, and he’s been extremely cooperative. It did not take long before I discovered a section of his mind that had been repeatedly walled off with Obliviate.”
Dumbledore interrupted himself to pop a candy in his mouth, and as he chewed on it he offered one to Harry yet again. Impatient, Harry shook his head “no.” Finally, Dumbledore was done chewing.
“I simply can’t resist these delightful little tart sugary things.” He smiled. “Now, where was I… yes. Dobby. I think you remember learning your fourth year, dear boy, that unlocking Obliviated memories can damage the mind they’ve been hidden from and within. I was unwilling to harm Dobby, and so this particular retrieval job has taken all these months. I was getting a bit anxious that Dobby and I would not succeed before Hogwarts’ winter break, but thankfully we have, and with nearly a week to spare. It gives you very little time to work on this, but I have much confidence in you, Harry. I want you to see one memory from Dobby that I think holds the key to something we are looking for.”
Harry was by now very eager to see what Dobby’s mind had been hiding, and when Dumbledore stood up he quickly followed the headmaster to his Pensieve.
The memory was a bit different than Harry was accustomed to. Was this evidence of damage, or because it was from a house-elf? He had no idea. He found himself on the floor, polishing a tiny, leather shoe. He was, apparently, inside Dobby’s head. He was also unable to explore the room the way he was normally able inside a Pensieve memory.
Ignoring the house-elf hands in front of him, Harry tried to concentrate on what he could hear, instead. There was nothing to hear, however, except soft, snuffling breaths. Harry tried to look around, but Dobby was looking only at the shoe, so he was reduced to searching Dobby’s peripheral vision. To their left, he saw a white wooden leg from some sort of furniture. The furniture must not be very big, for the leg was slim, even to a house-elf’s eye. Harry had a sudden thought. A baby’s cot? Then he was distracted, for Dobby was scuttling into a corner, seemingly frightened.
Dobby apparently couldn’t resist a look upwards, and Harry saw that they were indeed in a baby’s nursery, and that a young looking Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had entered the room. The parents walked to the other side of the baby’s cot, but in the moment that Harry saw their faces, Mr. Malfoy looked - triumphant? covetous? self-important? - Harry wasn’t certain. Mrs. Malfoy, however, quite clearly looked distressed.
It was Mrs. Malfoy’s soft, placating voice that Harry heard first. He found himself listening with care to her tone of voice, as he still could not see anything other than the tiny shoe, the handsomely carpeted floor and the feet of the cot.
“Lucius, this frightens me. An object so important to the Dark Lord? In our son’s cot with him? I can feel that thing’s power from here. Won’t it be dangerous to Draco?”
Mr. Malfoy’s voice was quiet also. Perhaps so as not to wake the baby in the cot, obviously Draco. “It will not harm him, Narcissa, I would not harm my heir! It will… change him slightly, perhaps, change his personality, but in ways that are all to the good.” He sounded a bit dismissive. “It will not harm his academic intelligence, or his ability to produce an heir himself someday! He may become a bit more… obedient, malleable. He’ll find it more natural to hate those he should hate. He’ll be easier to sway to the Dark Lord’s side. Not that I expect my own son would ever disobey me in such an important matter!”
Mr. Malfoy’s voice rose and the baby - Draco - cried out. Mrs. Malfoy made soothing noises and, from the sound of it, picked the baby up and held him. Mr. Malfoy continued to talk, louder now - more determined to convince. “This belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw herself, Cissy! And the Dark Lord is entrusting me with it. He told me that if I kept it safe for a year or so he might entrust me with another object that is even more important to him. I cannot possibly refuse!
“And I have already discussed the hiding place with my Lord. He himself suggested putting it under the mattress in Draco’s cot. The ministry would never look there.” Mr. Malfoy’s voice was hard, contemptuous. “They have such a soft spot for children.” Mr. Malfoy paused and Mrs. Malfoy said nothing, but they must have exchanged glances of some sort, because Mr. Malfoy’s tone changed to a placating one.
“Cissy, you know the oaths I’ve taken, the vows, the promises I’ve made to Him. We have no choice. Not you, not me, not Draco. We’ve bound ourselves to His fortunes. His profit is our gain.”
Now Harry could hear the mattress lifted, metal hitting wood, the mattress replaced.
Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy - the white-blond infant Draco still in her arms, now soothed and snuggled up to her neck and shoulder - walked around the cot and came into Dobby’s view again. Lucius’ face filled with anger and he raised his wand and entoned Obliviate.
The spell obviously worked on the Dobby in the memory, but of course had no effect on Harry. Harry instead suffered the disorientation of Dobby rapidly shaking his own head in response to the spell, and then he felt Dobby cower as he reacted to being under his Master’s wand.
“Why,” Mr. Malfoy asked, sounding annoyed, “is it polishing a shoe, Cissy? The boy is five weeks old and can’t even stand without assistance. How could he need shoes?”
The memory faded as Harry heard Mrs. Malfoy, walking from the nursery with Draco still in her arms, trying to explain to her husband how cute the shoes were.
Harry found himself standing in front of the Headmaster’s Pensieve, and the Headmaster, horrified. Dumbledore gave Harry a kindly look, but said nothing. Harry could think of nothing to say. When Dumbledore motioned for Harry to sit again, Harry did so, still feeling stunned. He watched Dumbledore cover his damaged hand once again, as though Harry hadn’t already seen the withered, blackened claw.
“Harry, there is something we need to discuss. I know your worries about Draco Malfoy. I know you’ve been trying to find out what he is up to and I know you have been trying to warn your friends, and me, that he’s dangerous.”
Harry was now even more off balance. He’d thought the Headmaster had been dismissing everything he’d been saying.
“I believe I know what young Mr. Malfoy has been tasked with by the Dark Lord. Before I tell you what that is, you need to know… that I am dying.”
“What!” Harry shot out of his seat and almost leapt across the Headmaster’s desk before he stopped himself. “No! Sir! You, no! You can’t be!”
“But I assure you, Harry, I am. When I… hurt my arm, I started a process that no one can stop, not me, nor St. Mungo’s, nor Severus. Although Professor Snape has come closer than anyone else. He’s been brewing a potion for me that has kept the death confined to my arm alone. So far. But Harry, you need to know that I won’t last through this upcoming calendar year.”
Harry’s tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. He was completely unable to speak.
“And you need to know that, because Voldemort has told Draco Malfoy to kill me.”
“What! That little -”
“Silence now, Harry!” Dumbledore did not raise his voice, but his tone was very stern.
“My life is no longer of very much importance.” Harry’s felt his eyes prick painfully with tears. “I wish only to last long enough to help you learn what you need to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes, and we’ve come very, very far with that. I wasn’t planning to tell you of Mr. Malfoy’s plans or of my own coming death, but this memory from Dobby changes everything.”
Harry rejected the clear implication that Dumbledore had been willing to go to his grave without ever having this conversation with Harry. He simply couldn’t think about that right now. “You… you would let him kill you?” Harry could barely choke out the words.
“If it came to that, Harry, I don’t believe young Mr. Malfoy would kill me. But I would let it come down to the wire, shall we say, in order to give him the opportunity to save his own soul. Voldemort will kill him - and his mother as well - if he fails. Now that we have this memory, I think we may be able to bring him to our side. I’ve had no hope of that, until now.
“I want you to find him. I believe you have a most helpful Map for this purpose?” The Headmaster twinkled at Harry, who could not believe that anyone, even Dumbledore, could twinkle at a moment like this.
Trapped, Harry pulled out the Marauder’s Map. Scanning it, he found Malfoy in the Great Hall.
“Yes sir, he’s still at dinner.”
“I’d like you to go get him, right now, and bring him here. Do you agree that he should see that memory?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“I’m glad, Harry. Off with you, then. Let’s get this done.”
Harry put away his Map and chose to leave his bag behind. Malfoy was easy to find, as he was walking out of the Great Hall with Crabbe and Goyle when Harry was about to enter. As he always did these days, Malfoy looked terrible. Tired and far too thin.
“Oi! Malfoy! I need to take you to Dumbledore’s office. He, er, he wants to see you.”
Malfoy gave Harry a sneer that could crack stone. “How quaint. You really think I’m going to fall for that trick? Go to hell, Potty.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Bring your goons if you want, Malfoy, but the Headmaster is expecting you. Now.”
Malfoy didn’t budge.
“I just came from his office, Malfoy. Come on.”
Finally Malfoy motioned to his companions, and the four of them walked to the Headmaster’s office. Malfoy seemed slightly surprised to actually arrive there.
Harry stopped and looked at Goyle and Crabbe. “Er, I think you two should probably stay down here.”
Malfoy gave them a look, and the other two boys lumbered off.
Harry leaned in to the gargoyle and carefully pronounced “Bubble Bees.” He didn’t want Malfoy to think he didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust Malfoy, of course, but it seemed like a bad meeting to start out on the wrong foot.
When Malfoy pulled his head out of the Pensieve ten minutes later he was even paler than usual.
Dumbledore took charge. “Please sit, Mr. Malfoy. Sweetart?”
Malfoy distractedly accepted the small candy from the Headmaster. He looked stunned and didn’t actually put the candy into his mouth.
Dumbledore fixed Malfoy with a piercing eye. “How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy? I see that Dobby’s memory has shocked you. Would you like to think about it some more, or would you like to talk?”
Malfoy glared at Harry. “I… what’s he doing here? I don’t want him here!”
Dumbledore did not seem to appreciate Malfoy’s outburst, but he did not chastise him. “Mr. Malfoy. Draco. Surely you are aware of Harry’s… relationship with Voldemort?”
Malfoy cringed. “He’s… he’s the one who’s finally going to get rid of that bastard…” Malfoy turned to Harry with a look that mingled distrust, despair, and hope. “Right? We’re all counting on you. Are you going to let us down? Do you know what he’s forcing me to do?”
“Harry and I know, Mr. Malfoy.” As always, the Headmaster seemed unnaturally calm in the face of danger.
Harry broke in. “I’m going to kill him, Malfoy. I’m the Chosen One.” Malfoy cringed slightly. “He chose me himself, when he…” Harry lifted his fringe. Malfoy stared at the famous scar. He looked desperate. He looked like he was alone on a sheer, precipitous edge.
Dumbledore was calm, but his voice held all the authority Harry was accustomed to. “The object your father hid in your cot, Mr. Malfoy. Do you think you might know what it is? Could you bring it to me to destroy? It is a part of the key to Voldemort’s power.”
Malfoy sounded slightly unsure. “I… there are a few things it might be. I’m not willing to do this alone. I want help.”
Malfoy paused and stared into space, his face a complete blank. When he spoke again his voice was small. He sounded eleven again. “It is almost winter break. When I go home for Yule I could search for it but….” Malfoy suddenly drew himself up, garnered from somewhere a look of authority, dignity. “Headmaster. Can I speak to you alone?”
“Of course, Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore nodded gravely at Harry, who stood, picked up his bookbag, and left the room. Once the door closed he could hear nothing, so he waited outside the door, wondering if he was expected to stay or go. He feared that, whichever he did, he’d get in trouble. And he was terribly curious. The room was thin and long, a corridor, almost. Ideal for pacing.
It wasn’t long at all before Malfoy left the room. At first he seemed content to sneer at Harry and swoosh past, robes almost afloat. Rather like Snape. But then he was suddenly pressing Harry into the wall, arms around Harry’s torso, face in Harry’s face. Harry was too shocked to do anything more threatening than attempt what he was sure was a half-hearted sneer. He put his hands on Malfoy’s chest but didn’t shove back - he wanted only a bit of distance between their faces. But it wasn’t distance he created, as Malfoy felt thin and warm through his robes. Harry felt his eyes open even wider. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“Your side is asking a lot of me, Boy Who Lived. I’ll be asking something in return.” Then Malfoy pressed his hips into Harry’s. To Harry’s overwhelming surprise, he felt his blood rush down, felt himself grow half-hard, felt himself fill with a longing he couldn’t quite place - except that it had something to do with Malfoy’s slim, pale neck, his warm hips, his pretty hair. He relaxed his arms just enough to allow Malfoy to press into him. He left his hands on Malfoy’s chest, doing nothing at all with them.
Then Malfoy was gone, down the stairs in a whirl of robes so dramatic that Harry thought the other boy must practice in front of a mirror.
Disoriented and a bit discomfited, Harry returned to the Headmaster’s office to find out what was expected of him. Dumbledore was all business, now. Once Malfoy was home for Yule, Harry would Floo directly to Malfoy’s bedroom. Dumbledore would connect the Floo himself, from his own office. He and Malfoy would have one night to search for the horcrux and Harry was to return with it as soon as they found it. He was not to get caught by Bellatrix Lestrange or Narcissa Malfoy, but he was not to waste any worry about that. Malfoy apparently knew just how to keep his mother out of his bedroom and Bellatrix was apparently a rare guest at the Manor these days.
Pleased that the plan to retrieve the horcrux was so straightforward, Harry thanked the headmaster and went back to Gryffindor tower. He kept his mind firmly away from the idea that he and Malfoy would be alone in Malfoy’s bedroom - possibly for one entire night. Hermione and Ron were eager to know everything, but he made it clear that he couldn’t talk about it and went up to bed. He told himself he was tired, but when he was finally in his pyjamas with clean teeth and hiding behind his thick, warm curtains, Harry was able to admit to himself that it wasn’t exhaustion that had sent him to his bed only two hours after dinner ended. He was hard. His mind was full of his encounter with an aggressive, white-pink-gold pretty, sneering, warm, sexual Malfoy.
Casting his best privacy spell, Harry relaxed into his warm bed and slipped his pyjama bottoms down just enough to afford himself good access to his cock. He spat into his hand and began to slowly stroke the head of his own cock. Something was obviously very wrong with him, but he would worry about that later. Right now all he wanted was to forget everything the headmaster had said, and instead remember the way the blood had rushed into his cock when Draco Malfoy had pressed him into the wall and sneered at him.
Harry cupped his balls in his left hand, rubbed circles around the head of his cock - teasing his foreskin a bit, and gave himself over to his memory. Malfoy was pretty and he smelled nice, but he was far too thin, he looked strained and brittle, like a favorite teacup that finally succumbs to elaborate crazing. And how did Harry know so much about what Malfoy looked like, anyway? It was just as Ron kept telling him. He really was obsessed.
Harry stroked the shaft of his cock now and considered his obsession. Had it only ever been about Malfoy’s evil plan? Or could it have some connection to that immediate, sexual reaction he’d had tonight in the anteroom outside Dumbledore’s office? Dumbledore. Malfoy’s evil secret plan was to …. No. he refused to think about that. It had not happened and it would not happen. Harry would not allow it.
Harry fisted his cock, harder, faster, and remembered other things about Malfoy. Remembered the way those hips had felt, pressed into his own, remembered the floating robes, the elegance, the sneer. He thought again about his own reaction, his own half-acknowledged hopes.
He came as he remembered the words Malfoy had spoken, and Malfoy's voice.
* * *
So Harry found himself not quite a week later - on the first evening of the Hogwarts winter vacation - wrapped in his invisibility cloak and Flooing from Dumbledore’s office to Malfoy’s bedroom in Malfoy Manor. The Slytherin had taken the train, and should be home and already hidden away in his room, hopefully having given some ironclad reason for his mother to leave him alone all night long.
Harry’d had a devil of a time explaining to Ron and Hermione why he wasn’t going to spend Yule at the Burrow, after all. He’d decided, along with Dumbledore, that it would be too distracting for them to know he would be with Malfoy. So he’d firmly explained that he’d be horcrux hunting, and no, they couldn’t help. He should be safe as Dumbledore would be watching his back, and he’d give them more details later.
“Potter, is that you?” Malfoy was sitting sideways at a desk looking out the window, wearing a rich-looking cream dressing gown over soft pyjamas. Harry was looking at his profile. The room was shadowy, but the moon was full.
“Yes, and I’d thank you not to use my name, Malfoy. If your Aunt Bellatrix were to find me I’d….”
“Yes, yes, I know. She’s insane.” Malfoy’s tone was annoyingly dismissive and Harry bristled. He did not joke about Bellatrix Lestrange. Malfoy ignored him. “And she does visit sometimes. But she isn’t here now.” Harry removed the cloak and as he draped it over one arm Malfoy stood, turning to slowly and calmly look Harry all the way down and then all the way up. “And you owe me.”
Shocked, Harry felt blood rush to his cock. What the hell? This was the second time Malfoy had implied a desire to do sexual things with him, and both times his body reacted as though he wanted it too! Since when was he a shirt-lifter? Since when was he gay over Malfoy? Since almost a week ago when he got you hard right outside the Headmaster’s office. Harry’s traitorous brain then supplied a few images from the dreams and wank sessions that had simultaneously excited and tortured him in the nights following that encounter.
“What about Ravenclaw’s artefact?” Harry panted, embarrassed to feel so transparent and hoping to distract both of them from his arousal.
Malfoy leaned on hand on his desk. “We can’t have light or loud noises in here right now.” His voice was calm and confident. “I’m supposedly in bed with an upset stomach. Mother’s already checked on me once, and she thinks I’m asleep. She won’t bother me again unless she thinks I’ve woken up.
“So we have,” he paused and licked his lips. Harry’s cock hardened even further at the sight, “all night. And I plan to use it, Potter. You owe me. I want to do everything I’ve been dreaming, until I’m so exhausted I can’t help but fall asleep. We’ll find the relic in the morning, if it’s in this room,” he waved at the room dismissively, “and you can bring it back to Dumbledore.”
“What do I owe you?” Harry’s voice sounded as tight and uncomfortable as his trousers were beginning to feel. He hadn’t been so uncomfortable, or so aroused, in longer than he could remember. Not that he was able to ponder timelines calmly at the moment.
“Kisses. A hand-job. My fingers in you. A slutty strip-tease. A blow-job. Rimming. Dirty talk. To top me. To bottom for me. Not necessarily in that order.” Malfoy’s voice was positively sultry.
As he’d listed off things Harry had never thought to dream of, and some he’d never even heard of, Malfoy had slowly stalked up to Harry. By the time he finished speaking, Harry could hardly breathe, and Malfoy was standing so close that he’d put his hands on Harry’s chest. Harry wondered how on earth Malfoy could summon the confidence to be so aggressive, when Harry could barely even determine who he was interested in. Well, until now, anyway. But then he looked Malfoy in the eye and saw, he was almost convinced, a trace of uncertainty.
“You think you’re so bold, Malfoy. You think you’re so in control. But I can see the fear in your eyes.”
The trace of uncertainty flared larger.
“I like it.” Harry put his hands on Malfoy’s hips, carelessly dumping the invisibility cloak on the floor.
“You do?” Malfoy looked at the floor for a moment, then looked shyly at Harry. “I thought you’d want me to be confident. I thought I’d need to take control, or this wouldn’t happen.”
“Well, you did that already. And it worked. You shocked me outside the Headmaster’s office. I’d never considered you, or any boy… that way… before. But I couldn’t ignore the way I reacted to you. And now that I’m more aware of… this… I want us to explore this together. I want this to be real, Malfoy. Quit pretending to be someone you aren’t.”
Malfoy stared into Harry’s eyes for another long moment. Harry didn’t know what Malfoy was looking for, but he tried to project an air of confidence and sincerity. He assumed the arousal was so present he wouldn’t need to do anything to help Malfoy see it. Malfoy was quiet and Harry didn’t have any grasp on what the other boy was thinking. Then Malfoy nodded, and to his surprise, Harry felt a small spike of fear mingled in with his relief. No turning back, now. But what were they going to do?
Harry spoke again. “I’ve never done this before, you know. I’m not really sure what to do.”
“You mean you’ve never been with a boy before?”
Harry grinned and blushed. “That either.”
“You’ve never been with anyone before? But I thought you and that Ravenclaw….”
“Cho and I kissed once.” Harry pulled Malfoy a bit closer. “So I suppose I do know how to do that part.”
Harry pressed forward, and their noses met with a touch of force.
“I thought,” Malfoy said quietly, “you said you knew how this part worked.”
Harry thought Malfoy might be smiling. “Well, it was quite a while ago,” he answered the other boy. “Perhaps you had better take charge, then, eh?”
Malfoy hummed an appreciative ‘yes.’ He slid a hand into the hair at the base of Harry’s neck. “First, Potter, you should tip your head a little.”
When Harry had chosen a direction, Malfoy tipped his head opposite. “Now, kissing is all about sensation, texture. I want to explore you. Explore me back. All right?”
Harry nodded and their lips touched, tentatively. Harry opened his mouth a bit and, in an attempt to follow Malfoy’s instructions, licked Malfoy’s bottom lip. Suddenly he realized that Malfoy’s tongue had joined his, and their tongues were touching, pressing, exploring. It felt very, very good. Emboldened, Harry went to explore the rest of Malfoy’s mouth. His hands tightened in Malfoy’s clothes as they gently teased one another’s tongues, palates, lips.
Harry realized he wanted more. He slid both hands free from Malfoy’s dressing gown and tried to put his hands on Malfoy’s arse. When he found it, it was covered with bunches of fabric from Malfoy’s pyjamas and dressing gown. He started trying to move the fabric out of the way to get a good grip on Malfoy’s arse, and Malfoy started to moan and press his hips into Harry’s.
Harry found himself unable to concentrate on kissing, and he dropped his head to Malfoy’s shoulder and pulled Malfoy’s hips toward his own. He was hard. Hell, they were both hard, and it was erotic and dirty and nothing like he’d ever thought he would want. But he did. Oh, how he did. He couldn’t understand how someone he’d always hated could become someone he desperately wanted. But he could figure that out later. Right now, he wanted, and Malfoy wanted, and they would have it - whatever it was.
Harry pulled at Malfoy's pyjamas and dressing gown. “Can we take these off?” He felt tentative and confident at the same time, which would be weird if he weren’t sixteen years old and used to it by now.
“Harry, you have no idea how badly I want you out of your robes. But… slow? Go slow for me? Surely you can value this gift of privacy as much as I can? You live in a dormitory too, after all….”
“I told you Malfoy… virgin.” Harry blushed a deep red.
Malfoy looked amused. “But you wank, don’t you Potter?”
Harry nodded once, the blush still heating his face.
Malfoy whispered seductively. “I’d love to watch you wank, you know that? Wish I could sneak into your dorm, hide somehow so you couldn’t see me, wouldn’t know I was there.” Malfoy got close, wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, kissed the side of Harry’s neck just under the ear, and kept his face there while he whispered the rest of his thought. “I’d love to know the little details. Do you take everything off? Do you just push your pyjamas out of the way? Do you touch your bollocks? Roll them? Stroke them? Maybe slip a finger into your arse?” Malfoy’s voice was so quiet, his breath on Harry’s neck was warm. “Do you get off fast, so your friends don’t suspect? Or do you like to make it last?”
“I… fast Malfoy, I go fast. And I can’t… I can’t take much more of this teasing, Malfoy. I need to touch you, be touched. I need to see you naked.” Harry pulled Malfoy in close again, pressed - through all that damned fabric - his cock into Malfoy’s hip.
“I’ll show you what I want then, Harry. I’ll strip nice and slow for you, and then you can strip for me. All right?”
Harry could do nothing more than nod, but it was enough for Malfoy, who walked toward a wireless and turned on very, very quiet music. Harry sat on the bed and watched, as Malfoy unbelted his dressing gown, slipped it off his shoulders and dropped it slowly to the floor. Inspired, Harry stood and did the same with his school robe.
Malfoy started to remove his pyjama top, and Harry unbuttoned his own shirt as slowly as he could force himself to go. Malfoy had far fewer buttons and was done sooner than Harry. He put his hands up high, on the back of his neck, and, despite the blush that crept into his cheeks, began to swing his hips slightly back and forth in time to the music from the wireless.
Harry couldn’t stand it anymore. In a strangled voice, he managed “Bloody hell, Malfoy…” and carelessly yanked off his remaining clothes. Malfoy looked a bit disappointed and Harry, now nude, grabbed the other boy around the torso and rubbed their warm chests together. “Don’t be sad, Malfoy. You’re so fucking pretty, I couldn’t help myself. Please, take that off and lie down with me? After I’ve come once I can probably slow myself down a little, but shit… right now I’m so hot for you it’s a wonder I haven’t already shot my load!”
Malfoy apparently decided he should accept this as the compliment Harry meant it to be, and he stepped out of his pyjama bottoms and stood nude and looking slightly unsure in front of Harry.
Harry grabbed Malfoy’s hand and started to pull the other boy toward the bed, but felt resistance. He turned to see Malfoy, naked, blushing, completely erect and looking at the floor.
“Please Malfoy, please lie down with me? I want to touch you so bad, I’m so hard it hurts.” Harry tugged gently at Malfoy’s hand and Malfoy stepped forward. The two boys tumbled onto Malfoy’s bed and spent a few glorious minutes just kissing and frotting, reveling in their mutual nakedness and lust. Malfoy seemed enthusiastically content, but soon Harry wanted more.
“Fuck… Malfoy… I’m getting blue balls here. What do we do? How do we do more?”
“You have no patience, Potter. We have all night.”
“Yes, we have all night, and we’re both sixteen years old. How many erections can you get in a night?”
Malfoy looked surprised, then pleased. “I suppose we should find out, then, shall we?” he replied. Draco rolled onto his right side and pulled Harry over closer, rolling Harry onto his left. Draco pulled Harry’s right arm over his side and kissed him once. Then he smiled and - throwing his left leg over Harry’s hip - grabbed their hard cocks in his left hand and began to stroke up and down their shafts. Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned.
“Shhhh. We can’t be too loud.” Malfoy sounded nervous.
“Then you’d better keep my mouth busy.”
Malfoy smiled and licked Harry’s lips. Harry moaned again, but this time it was into Malfoy’s open mouth, and it was indeed much quieter.
Malfoy’s hand and cock on Harry’s cock was like nothing he’d ever imagined. Malfoy’s hand was firm and strong, but Malfoy’s cock was silken and hard against his own. Two cocks meant twice as much pre-come. And all the while their tongues danced and teased and tasted. It wasn’t long before Harry found himself panting quietly “gonna come, please don’t stop, gonna come….”
Malfoy didn’t stop, instead he increased his pace a fraction and pressed more of his skin against Harry’s naked body. They came together, crashing and spurting and panting.
After he’d finally come - with another person! - with another boy - with Malfoy! - Harry felt finally able to think again. When he opened his eyes Malfoy was staring at him. He looked… well actually, he looked a little annoyed.
“Don’t pull this shit on me, Potty. You are not permitted to freak out on me and act like you’re straight, or I’m a Malfoy and a Death Eater and therefore this is all over and done with and you’re going to go sleep in a chair. You owe me. You hear?” he emphasized his annoyance and determination with a press of hips into Harry’s. “You’re not going to weasel out of this.”
Harry gave Malfoy what he hoped was a very sultry smile, rolled over a little and pushed the other boy down onto the bed. He straddled him and leaned in close. Now Malfoy looked hopeful. And shocked.
“Don’t you fret, Malfoy. We aren’t going to stop until I’ve lost my damn virginity. At the very least. That was fucking incredible and it wasn’t even fucking! I have no intentions of chickening out on you now.” And then Harry lay flush on top of Malfoy and began to kiss and suck on the tender, white skin of his throat.
Underneath Harry, Malfoy moaned and bucked. His hands stroked Harry’s back and then Harry’s arse. Harry could feel both of their cocks begin to firm up again as they pushed through the slick, hot mess of come between them. It felt brilliant, but after a few minutes, Harry again found himself eager to take things to a higher level. He blushed a bit as he took his mouth from Malfoy’s mouth and spoke quietly into Malfoy’s pale shoulder.
“Malfoy, you mentioned all kinds of stuff you wanted to do, and I’m such a fucking virgin I don’t even know what most of it was. Tell me again what you want to do?”
Malfoy seemed to appreciate the small amount of privacy afforded by avoiding one another’s eyes. “I… this is what I want to do, Potter. I want you to fuck me. I want to jerk off while you fuck me, and I want you to watch me come while your cock is inside my body. And then, I want us to kiss until we’re both hard again, and then I want to fuck you, Harry Potter.”
Harry couldn’t do anything but moan and then nod into Malfoy’s neck. He took a moment to gather a bit of composure, then pushed up on one hand and looked Malfoy in the eye. “Just tell me how, Malfoy.”
“You’ll need preparation, but I don’t. All I need is lube. There are spells for that, but I like to use a potion I buy instead.” Malfoy squirmed away and fetched the potion from his bedside table. Then, silently, he put lube on Harry’s cock. Harry tried not to cry out loud with pleasure. It wasn’t easy. Soon Harry was lubed and Malfoy carelessly put a bit of the remainder on himself. Then he grabbed Harry’s cock and pulled Harry into place over his own body.
“Just… sink into me… oh fuck, yes… yes….”
Malfoy's voice was whisper-quiet but Harry could hear the intensity in it nonetheless. It matched how he felt about their connection.
“Fucking hell, Malfoy. You feel amazing, hot and tight, wet and wanting… you feel better than anything else. It’s a good thing I just came a few minutes ago, or I’d be coming right this second.”
“Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“Move. Move right now, or I’ll kill you.”
Harry slid further into Malfoy, who grabbed him from underneath with everything he had. He felt Malfoy’s arms around his back and shoulders, Malfoy’s legs around his waist, Malfoy’s muscles clenching around his cock. Harry moaned into Malfoy’s ear and then, feeling inspired, licked it teasingly.
Malfoy whimpered and Harry responded swiftly, pulling most of the way out of Malfoy’s tight, slick sheath and then pressing back in.
“Please fuck me harder, I won’t break.”
Harry was eager to obey, and soon he found himself fucking hard and fast into the boy underneath him. It felt so amazing he knew he wouldn’t last long. Not wanting Draco to misunderstand, he started to whisper his thoughts into Malfoy's ear. “Malfoy… oh hell, Malfoy you feel so good inside. My cock loves your arse, Malfoy, I’m gonna come, Malfoy, I am gonna come any second now… I’m gonna….”
“Come inside me, Harry. Give it to me.” Malfoy’s voice was throaty and quiet and very intense.
“Yes!” Harry came again, hard and long, fucking Malfoy and loving it. It was intense and amazing. The best orgasm he’d ever had. He rested on Malfoy's body and Malfoy stroked his sweaty back. Then he realized Malfoy's erection was pressing into his belly.
“Bloody hell, Malfoy. You haven’t come yet. You were going to wank and come… I want to watch you come… Fuck me?”
Harry kissed Malfoy’s mouth again, amazed at the bizarre turn his life had taken and utterly unwilling to think about it right now.
“All right, Harry, I do want to come… are you sure? It… well, this will hurt a little before it feels good. But it will feel good, I promise.”
“I want to try everything, Malfoy. After all, I owe you.” And Harry winked.
So Malfoy prepared him carefully. One finger, two, then three. They kissed and Harry squirmed and begged for more. Malfoy explained that hands and knees would probably be the most comfortable position but Harry was adamant. They would fuck face to face, just like the first time. So Malfoy lined up his cockhead and began to press into Harry, who winced and panted and grimaced and then, finally, nodded.
Malfoy finally pushed his cock the rest of the way into Harry. He panted whispers into Harry’s ear. “Oh fuck… I’ve dreamed of this, I’ve dreamed of you…”
“So have I… Draco.” Draco’s eyes flew open to hear Harry call him by his first name for the first time.
In the morning Harry woke, still so relaxed, so sated, so… well… happy was really the word for it. He stretched and opened his eyes and looked right into the eyes of Malfoy, no, Draco. His lover. Shit. Harry had a lover. He smiled, and Draco smiled back. Harry felt warmed down to his toes. And his cock stiffened slightly more, adding to his expected morning wood.
“Last night was amazing, Draco.” Harry ran a hand down Draco’s naked side, and cupped his lover’s arse.
“Mmm. Yes. I thought so as well.” Draco smiled and put a hand on Harry’s cheek. Harry thought Draco looked particularly nice in the light of sunrise, which shone pinkly thought the sheer curtains over the windows behind the bed.
Draco yawned discreetly behind his other hand and then pressed himself a bit more closely into Harry’s naked skin. “Sadly, there will be no morning quickie. I have to be downstairs for breakfast in a little more than an hour, or Mother will be in here and wanting to know why the room reeks of sex. And you have to look for the damn relic with me. I have quite a few old metal things in here. I really have no idea which one it could be.”
Harry cocked his head and thought for a moment. Then he found his wand, wrapped his hand in fabric, held it up, and called out quietly Accio Ravenclaw’s artefact. A dull silver ornament that looked, perhaps, a bit like a knife, or - oddly enough - a Muggle letter-opener, wended its way through the air from a shelf on the other side of the room, falling dully into Harry’s protected hand. It had a pattern with ten wands. It didn’t look familiar.
“Huh. Awfully glad I didn’t think of that last night in the dark. Think of what we would have missed!”
Draco could only stare.
“Draco?”
“It’s real.”
“Well. Of course it is.” Harry tried not to sound annoyed, but what a strange thing for Draco to say. “What did you think this was all about?”
“Harry, there’s a difference between thinking and knowing…. Before you summoned it, I sort of… thought it was here. Maybe. Now I know it is. And I played with that thing as a kid. All the time. I’d told myself… I was sure there wouldn’t be anything at all. That your search would come up empty. Or that you might, possibly find something, but that I wouldn’t recognize it, whatever you found. I thought it would still be under my mattress, or up on a high shelf and I wouldn’t know anything about it. But I have held that thing, I’ve touched it, I’ve… my father put that thing in my bed and it corrupted me. My whole life I have taken my father’s love for granted. Even after seeing that memory I took his love for granted.
“But now… I feel a little sick, frankly. Will you please take that thing directly to the headmaster and destroy it? I… I need some time alone or I’m going to fall apart in front of my mother. I’ll see you as soon as I get back to Hogwarts. Mother knows I’m only planning on staying a few more days. She knows… she knows the task the Dark Lord has set for me. She knows why I was planning to stay only a few days. I have to decide if I’m going to tell her I’ve changed sides. I can’t prepare for all of this with you naked in my bed. You’re far too distracting.”
Harry gave Draco a sad smile, and kissed him, once. Then he slipped out of bed, dressed quickly, and wrapped the horcrux in his invisibility cloak. He kissed Draco one more time, this time a lingering kiss, and gave him an awkward hug. “I’ll be waiting for you, Draco.”
“Harry… wait.”
Harry stopped just before he threw the Floo powder in the fireplace.
“Do you remember a week ago, when I wanted to talk alone with Dumbledore?”
Harry nodded.
“I was asking for a private room, as payment for doing this. Dumbledore agreed. He actually said prefects used to get them as a matter of course, and there was enough space for me to have one. I also asked to have a room that I could enter through the hallway as well as through Slytherin, because, I said, I was afraid of how my housemates might react to my change of loyalties. He said I could have that as well, and he seemed most concerned for my safety. So you see what this means, Harry? We’ll be back at school, for the entire rest of break, and I’ll have a private room. You will be able to just knock on my door.”
Harry gave Draco a huge grin and kissed him yet again. “This is the best present… ever.”
finis
Author: Twisted Miracle
Type: Fiction
Length: Approximately 7400 words
Main character or Pairing: Harry/Draco
Card: Ten of wands
Card Interpretation: "The place which the figure is approaching may suffer from the rods that he carries."
"The feeling that you can do anything. Gambles can result in great gain. Carries a warning to not take things for granted."
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!
Warnings: Slash between two sixteen year olds.
Summary: Dumbledore has finally unblocked a crucial memory.
Author Notes: First for confiteor_3, then for the Tarot Fest. It’s been reworked a bit, and hopefully improved since the last posting. At least one person beta’d this for me, but, like a moron (cringe), I forgot to record that information anywhere and now I cannot credit her, or them. I apologize.
* * *
Harry was finishing lunch when the owl arrived.
“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked.
“Izzit Dubbledore agin?” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of shepherd’s pie.
Harry unrolled the small scrap of parchment and read it quickly.
Harry, After dinner, please. Bubble Bees.
Harry hid the note in an inner pocket and nodded at Ron.
Harry was hungry that night, but he ate dinner quickly, eager to see what Dumbledore wanted. He opened the gargoyle with “Bubble Bees” while some students were still arriving at the Great Hall to eat, and he rushed up the moving staircase. He was about to knock when the door swung open and saw the Headmaster standing behind the desk, smiling and welcoming him in.
“You wanted to see me, Sir?”
“Yes, Harry.” He stopped to pull his sleeve over his deformed hand. “I have finally obtained a memory that I think will be absolutely instrumental in the retrieval of a horcrux. Won’t you sit down, and I’ll explain?”
Harry sat on the edge of his seat, refused a small candy, and listened carefully.
Dumbledore’s face opened up into a warm, kindly smile. “I believe you remember a house-elf named Dobby?”
Harry nodded, surprised.
“Dobby seemed a likely source for memories that could be helpful, and he’s been extremely cooperative. It did not take long before I discovered a section of his mind that had been repeatedly walled off with Obliviate.”
Dumbledore interrupted himself to pop a candy in his mouth, and as he chewed on it he offered one to Harry yet again. Impatient, Harry shook his head “no.” Finally, Dumbledore was done chewing.
“I simply can’t resist these delightful little tart sugary things.” He smiled. “Now, where was I… yes. Dobby. I think you remember learning your fourth year, dear boy, that unlocking Obliviated memories can damage the mind they’ve been hidden from and within. I was unwilling to harm Dobby, and so this particular retrieval job has taken all these months. I was getting a bit anxious that Dobby and I would not succeed before Hogwarts’ winter break, but thankfully we have, and with nearly a week to spare. It gives you very little time to work on this, but I have much confidence in you, Harry. I want you to see one memory from Dobby that I think holds the key to something we are looking for.”
Harry was by now very eager to see what Dobby’s mind had been hiding, and when Dumbledore stood up he quickly followed the headmaster to his Pensieve.
The memory was a bit different than Harry was accustomed to. Was this evidence of damage, or because it was from a house-elf? He had no idea. He found himself on the floor, polishing a tiny, leather shoe. He was, apparently, inside Dobby’s head. He was also unable to explore the room the way he was normally able inside a Pensieve memory.
Ignoring the house-elf hands in front of him, Harry tried to concentrate on what he could hear, instead. There was nothing to hear, however, except soft, snuffling breaths. Harry tried to look around, but Dobby was looking only at the shoe, so he was reduced to searching Dobby’s peripheral vision. To their left, he saw a white wooden leg from some sort of furniture. The furniture must not be very big, for the leg was slim, even to a house-elf’s eye. Harry had a sudden thought. A baby’s cot? Then he was distracted, for Dobby was scuttling into a corner, seemingly frightened.
Dobby apparently couldn’t resist a look upwards, and Harry saw that they were indeed in a baby’s nursery, and that a young looking Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had entered the room. The parents walked to the other side of the baby’s cot, but in the moment that Harry saw their faces, Mr. Malfoy looked - triumphant? covetous? self-important? - Harry wasn’t certain. Mrs. Malfoy, however, quite clearly looked distressed.
It was Mrs. Malfoy’s soft, placating voice that Harry heard first. He found himself listening with care to her tone of voice, as he still could not see anything other than the tiny shoe, the handsomely carpeted floor and the feet of the cot.
“Lucius, this frightens me. An object so important to the Dark Lord? In our son’s cot with him? I can feel that thing’s power from here. Won’t it be dangerous to Draco?”
Mr. Malfoy’s voice was quiet also. Perhaps so as not to wake the baby in the cot, obviously Draco. “It will not harm him, Narcissa, I would not harm my heir! It will… change him slightly, perhaps, change his personality, but in ways that are all to the good.” He sounded a bit dismissive. “It will not harm his academic intelligence, or his ability to produce an heir himself someday! He may become a bit more… obedient, malleable. He’ll find it more natural to hate those he should hate. He’ll be easier to sway to the Dark Lord’s side. Not that I expect my own son would ever disobey me in such an important matter!”
Mr. Malfoy’s voice rose and the baby - Draco - cried out. Mrs. Malfoy made soothing noises and, from the sound of it, picked the baby up and held him. Mr. Malfoy continued to talk, louder now - more determined to convince. “This belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw herself, Cissy! And the Dark Lord is entrusting me with it. He told me that if I kept it safe for a year or so he might entrust me with another object that is even more important to him. I cannot possibly refuse!
“And I have already discussed the hiding place with my Lord. He himself suggested putting it under the mattress in Draco’s cot. The ministry would never look there.” Mr. Malfoy’s voice was hard, contemptuous. “They have such a soft spot for children.” Mr. Malfoy paused and Mrs. Malfoy said nothing, but they must have exchanged glances of some sort, because Mr. Malfoy’s tone changed to a placating one.
“Cissy, you know the oaths I’ve taken, the vows, the promises I’ve made to Him. We have no choice. Not you, not me, not Draco. We’ve bound ourselves to His fortunes. His profit is our gain.”
Now Harry could hear the mattress lifted, metal hitting wood, the mattress replaced.
Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy - the white-blond infant Draco still in her arms, now soothed and snuggled up to her neck and shoulder - walked around the cot and came into Dobby’s view again. Lucius’ face filled with anger and he raised his wand and entoned Obliviate.
The spell obviously worked on the Dobby in the memory, but of course had no effect on Harry. Harry instead suffered the disorientation of Dobby rapidly shaking his own head in response to the spell, and then he felt Dobby cower as he reacted to being under his Master’s wand.
“Why,” Mr. Malfoy asked, sounding annoyed, “is it polishing a shoe, Cissy? The boy is five weeks old and can’t even stand without assistance. How could he need shoes?”
The memory faded as Harry heard Mrs. Malfoy, walking from the nursery with Draco still in her arms, trying to explain to her husband how cute the shoes were.
Harry found himself standing in front of the Headmaster’s Pensieve, and the Headmaster, horrified. Dumbledore gave Harry a kindly look, but said nothing. Harry could think of nothing to say. When Dumbledore motioned for Harry to sit again, Harry did so, still feeling stunned. He watched Dumbledore cover his damaged hand once again, as though Harry hadn’t already seen the withered, blackened claw.
“Harry, there is something we need to discuss. I know your worries about Draco Malfoy. I know you’ve been trying to find out what he is up to and I know you have been trying to warn your friends, and me, that he’s dangerous.”
Harry was now even more off balance. He’d thought the Headmaster had been dismissing everything he’d been saying.
“I believe I know what young Mr. Malfoy has been tasked with by the Dark Lord. Before I tell you what that is, you need to know… that I am dying.”
“What!” Harry shot out of his seat and almost leapt across the Headmaster’s desk before he stopped himself. “No! Sir! You, no! You can’t be!”
“But I assure you, Harry, I am. When I… hurt my arm, I started a process that no one can stop, not me, nor St. Mungo’s, nor Severus. Although Professor Snape has come closer than anyone else. He’s been brewing a potion for me that has kept the death confined to my arm alone. So far. But Harry, you need to know that I won’t last through this upcoming calendar year.”
Harry’s tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. He was completely unable to speak.
“And you need to know that, because Voldemort has told Draco Malfoy to kill me.”
“What! That little -”
“Silence now, Harry!” Dumbledore did not raise his voice, but his tone was very stern.
“My life is no longer of very much importance.” Harry’s felt his eyes prick painfully with tears. “I wish only to last long enough to help you learn what you need to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes, and we’ve come very, very far with that. I wasn’t planning to tell you of Mr. Malfoy’s plans or of my own coming death, but this memory from Dobby changes everything.”
Harry rejected the clear implication that Dumbledore had been willing to go to his grave without ever having this conversation with Harry. He simply couldn’t think about that right now. “You… you would let him kill you?” Harry could barely choke out the words.
“If it came to that, Harry, I don’t believe young Mr. Malfoy would kill me. But I would let it come down to the wire, shall we say, in order to give him the opportunity to save his own soul. Voldemort will kill him - and his mother as well - if he fails. Now that we have this memory, I think we may be able to bring him to our side. I’ve had no hope of that, until now.
“I want you to find him. I believe you have a most helpful Map for this purpose?” The Headmaster twinkled at Harry, who could not believe that anyone, even Dumbledore, could twinkle at a moment like this.
Trapped, Harry pulled out the Marauder’s Map. Scanning it, he found Malfoy in the Great Hall.
“Yes sir, he’s still at dinner.”
“I’d like you to go get him, right now, and bring him here. Do you agree that he should see that memory?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“I’m glad, Harry. Off with you, then. Let’s get this done.”
Harry put away his Map and chose to leave his bag behind. Malfoy was easy to find, as he was walking out of the Great Hall with Crabbe and Goyle when Harry was about to enter. As he always did these days, Malfoy looked terrible. Tired and far too thin.
“Oi! Malfoy! I need to take you to Dumbledore’s office. He, er, he wants to see you.”
Malfoy gave Harry a sneer that could crack stone. “How quaint. You really think I’m going to fall for that trick? Go to hell, Potty.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Bring your goons if you want, Malfoy, but the Headmaster is expecting you. Now.”
Malfoy didn’t budge.
“I just came from his office, Malfoy. Come on.”
Finally Malfoy motioned to his companions, and the four of them walked to the Headmaster’s office. Malfoy seemed slightly surprised to actually arrive there.
Harry stopped and looked at Goyle and Crabbe. “Er, I think you two should probably stay down here.”
Malfoy gave them a look, and the other two boys lumbered off.
Harry leaned in to the gargoyle and carefully pronounced “Bubble Bees.” He didn’t want Malfoy to think he didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust Malfoy, of course, but it seemed like a bad meeting to start out on the wrong foot.
When Malfoy pulled his head out of the Pensieve ten minutes later he was even paler than usual.
Dumbledore took charge. “Please sit, Mr. Malfoy. Sweetart?”
Malfoy distractedly accepted the small candy from the Headmaster. He looked stunned and didn’t actually put the candy into his mouth.
Dumbledore fixed Malfoy with a piercing eye. “How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy? I see that Dobby’s memory has shocked you. Would you like to think about it some more, or would you like to talk?”
Malfoy glared at Harry. “I… what’s he doing here? I don’t want him here!”
Dumbledore did not seem to appreciate Malfoy’s outburst, but he did not chastise him. “Mr. Malfoy. Draco. Surely you are aware of Harry’s… relationship with Voldemort?”
Malfoy cringed. “He’s… he’s the one who’s finally going to get rid of that bastard…” Malfoy turned to Harry with a look that mingled distrust, despair, and hope. “Right? We’re all counting on you. Are you going to let us down? Do you know what he’s forcing me to do?”
“Harry and I know, Mr. Malfoy.” As always, the Headmaster seemed unnaturally calm in the face of danger.
Harry broke in. “I’m going to kill him, Malfoy. I’m the Chosen One.” Malfoy cringed slightly. “He chose me himself, when he…” Harry lifted his fringe. Malfoy stared at the famous scar. He looked desperate. He looked like he was alone on a sheer, precipitous edge.
Dumbledore was calm, but his voice held all the authority Harry was accustomed to. “The object your father hid in your cot, Mr. Malfoy. Do you think you might know what it is? Could you bring it to me to destroy? It is a part of the key to Voldemort’s power.”
Malfoy sounded slightly unsure. “I… there are a few things it might be. I’m not willing to do this alone. I want help.”
Malfoy paused and stared into space, his face a complete blank. When he spoke again his voice was small. He sounded eleven again. “It is almost winter break. When I go home for Yule I could search for it but….” Malfoy suddenly drew himself up, garnered from somewhere a look of authority, dignity. “Headmaster. Can I speak to you alone?”
“Of course, Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore nodded gravely at Harry, who stood, picked up his bookbag, and left the room. Once the door closed he could hear nothing, so he waited outside the door, wondering if he was expected to stay or go. He feared that, whichever he did, he’d get in trouble. And he was terribly curious. The room was thin and long, a corridor, almost. Ideal for pacing.
It wasn’t long at all before Malfoy left the room. At first he seemed content to sneer at Harry and swoosh past, robes almost afloat. Rather like Snape. But then he was suddenly pressing Harry into the wall, arms around Harry’s torso, face in Harry’s face. Harry was too shocked to do anything more threatening than attempt what he was sure was a half-hearted sneer. He put his hands on Malfoy’s chest but didn’t shove back - he wanted only a bit of distance between their faces. But it wasn’t distance he created, as Malfoy felt thin and warm through his robes. Harry felt his eyes open even wider. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“Your side is asking a lot of me, Boy Who Lived. I’ll be asking something in return.” Then Malfoy pressed his hips into Harry’s. To Harry’s overwhelming surprise, he felt his blood rush down, felt himself grow half-hard, felt himself fill with a longing he couldn’t quite place - except that it had something to do with Malfoy’s slim, pale neck, his warm hips, his pretty hair. He relaxed his arms just enough to allow Malfoy to press into him. He left his hands on Malfoy’s chest, doing nothing at all with them.
Then Malfoy was gone, down the stairs in a whirl of robes so dramatic that Harry thought the other boy must practice in front of a mirror.
Disoriented and a bit discomfited, Harry returned to the Headmaster’s office to find out what was expected of him. Dumbledore was all business, now. Once Malfoy was home for Yule, Harry would Floo directly to Malfoy’s bedroom. Dumbledore would connect the Floo himself, from his own office. He and Malfoy would have one night to search for the horcrux and Harry was to return with it as soon as they found it. He was not to get caught by Bellatrix Lestrange or Narcissa Malfoy, but he was not to waste any worry about that. Malfoy apparently knew just how to keep his mother out of his bedroom and Bellatrix was apparently a rare guest at the Manor these days.
Pleased that the plan to retrieve the horcrux was so straightforward, Harry thanked the headmaster and went back to Gryffindor tower. He kept his mind firmly away from the idea that he and Malfoy would be alone in Malfoy’s bedroom - possibly for one entire night. Hermione and Ron were eager to know everything, but he made it clear that he couldn’t talk about it and went up to bed. He told himself he was tired, but when he was finally in his pyjamas with clean teeth and hiding behind his thick, warm curtains, Harry was able to admit to himself that it wasn’t exhaustion that had sent him to his bed only two hours after dinner ended. He was hard. His mind was full of his encounter with an aggressive, white-pink-gold pretty, sneering, warm, sexual Malfoy.
Casting his best privacy spell, Harry relaxed into his warm bed and slipped his pyjama bottoms down just enough to afford himself good access to his cock. He spat into his hand and began to slowly stroke the head of his own cock. Something was obviously very wrong with him, but he would worry about that later. Right now all he wanted was to forget everything the headmaster had said, and instead remember the way the blood had rushed into his cock when Draco Malfoy had pressed him into the wall and sneered at him.
Harry cupped his balls in his left hand, rubbed circles around the head of his cock - teasing his foreskin a bit, and gave himself over to his memory. Malfoy was pretty and he smelled nice, but he was far too thin, he looked strained and brittle, like a favorite teacup that finally succumbs to elaborate crazing. And how did Harry know so much about what Malfoy looked like, anyway? It was just as Ron kept telling him. He really was obsessed.
Harry stroked the shaft of his cock now and considered his obsession. Had it only ever been about Malfoy’s evil plan? Or could it have some connection to that immediate, sexual reaction he’d had tonight in the anteroom outside Dumbledore’s office? Dumbledore. Malfoy’s evil secret plan was to …. No. he refused to think about that. It had not happened and it would not happen. Harry would not allow it.
Harry fisted his cock, harder, faster, and remembered other things about Malfoy. Remembered the way those hips had felt, pressed into his own, remembered the floating robes, the elegance, the sneer. He thought again about his own reaction, his own half-acknowledged hopes.
He came as he remembered the words Malfoy had spoken, and Malfoy's voice.
* * *
So Harry found himself not quite a week later - on the first evening of the Hogwarts winter vacation - wrapped in his invisibility cloak and Flooing from Dumbledore’s office to Malfoy’s bedroom in Malfoy Manor. The Slytherin had taken the train, and should be home and already hidden away in his room, hopefully having given some ironclad reason for his mother to leave him alone all night long.
Harry’d had a devil of a time explaining to Ron and Hermione why he wasn’t going to spend Yule at the Burrow, after all. He’d decided, along with Dumbledore, that it would be too distracting for them to know he would be with Malfoy. So he’d firmly explained that he’d be horcrux hunting, and no, they couldn’t help. He should be safe as Dumbledore would be watching his back, and he’d give them more details later.
“Potter, is that you?” Malfoy was sitting sideways at a desk looking out the window, wearing a rich-looking cream dressing gown over soft pyjamas. Harry was looking at his profile. The room was shadowy, but the moon was full.
“Yes, and I’d thank you not to use my name, Malfoy. If your Aunt Bellatrix were to find me I’d….”
“Yes, yes, I know. She’s insane.” Malfoy’s tone was annoyingly dismissive and Harry bristled. He did not joke about Bellatrix Lestrange. Malfoy ignored him. “And she does visit sometimes. But she isn’t here now.” Harry removed the cloak and as he draped it over one arm Malfoy stood, turning to slowly and calmly look Harry all the way down and then all the way up. “And you owe me.”
Shocked, Harry felt blood rush to his cock. What the hell? This was the second time Malfoy had implied a desire to do sexual things with him, and both times his body reacted as though he wanted it too! Since when was he a shirt-lifter? Since when was he gay over Malfoy? Since almost a week ago when he got you hard right outside the Headmaster’s office. Harry’s traitorous brain then supplied a few images from the dreams and wank sessions that had simultaneously excited and tortured him in the nights following that encounter.
“What about Ravenclaw’s artefact?” Harry panted, embarrassed to feel so transparent and hoping to distract both of them from his arousal.
Malfoy leaned on hand on his desk. “We can’t have light or loud noises in here right now.” His voice was calm and confident. “I’m supposedly in bed with an upset stomach. Mother’s already checked on me once, and she thinks I’m asleep. She won’t bother me again unless she thinks I’ve woken up.
“So we have,” he paused and licked his lips. Harry’s cock hardened even further at the sight, “all night. And I plan to use it, Potter. You owe me. I want to do everything I’ve been dreaming, until I’m so exhausted I can’t help but fall asleep. We’ll find the relic in the morning, if it’s in this room,” he waved at the room dismissively, “and you can bring it back to Dumbledore.”
“What do I owe you?” Harry’s voice sounded as tight and uncomfortable as his trousers were beginning to feel. He hadn’t been so uncomfortable, or so aroused, in longer than he could remember. Not that he was able to ponder timelines calmly at the moment.
“Kisses. A hand-job. My fingers in you. A slutty strip-tease. A blow-job. Rimming. Dirty talk. To top me. To bottom for me. Not necessarily in that order.” Malfoy’s voice was positively sultry.
As he’d listed off things Harry had never thought to dream of, and some he’d never even heard of, Malfoy had slowly stalked up to Harry. By the time he finished speaking, Harry could hardly breathe, and Malfoy was standing so close that he’d put his hands on Harry’s chest. Harry wondered how on earth Malfoy could summon the confidence to be so aggressive, when Harry could barely even determine who he was interested in. Well, until now, anyway. But then he looked Malfoy in the eye and saw, he was almost convinced, a trace of uncertainty.
“You think you’re so bold, Malfoy. You think you’re so in control. But I can see the fear in your eyes.”
The trace of uncertainty flared larger.
“I like it.” Harry put his hands on Malfoy’s hips, carelessly dumping the invisibility cloak on the floor.
“You do?” Malfoy looked at the floor for a moment, then looked shyly at Harry. “I thought you’d want me to be confident. I thought I’d need to take control, or this wouldn’t happen.”
“Well, you did that already. And it worked. You shocked me outside the Headmaster’s office. I’d never considered you, or any boy… that way… before. But I couldn’t ignore the way I reacted to you. And now that I’m more aware of… this… I want us to explore this together. I want this to be real, Malfoy. Quit pretending to be someone you aren’t.”
Malfoy stared into Harry’s eyes for another long moment. Harry didn’t know what Malfoy was looking for, but he tried to project an air of confidence and sincerity. He assumed the arousal was so present he wouldn’t need to do anything to help Malfoy see it. Malfoy was quiet and Harry didn’t have any grasp on what the other boy was thinking. Then Malfoy nodded, and to his surprise, Harry felt a small spike of fear mingled in with his relief. No turning back, now. But what were they going to do?
Harry spoke again. “I’ve never done this before, you know. I’m not really sure what to do.”
“You mean you’ve never been with a boy before?”
Harry grinned and blushed. “That either.”
“You’ve never been with anyone before? But I thought you and that Ravenclaw….”
“Cho and I kissed once.” Harry pulled Malfoy a bit closer. “So I suppose I do know how to do that part.”
Harry pressed forward, and their noses met with a touch of force.
“I thought,” Malfoy said quietly, “you said you knew how this part worked.”
Harry thought Malfoy might be smiling. “Well, it was quite a while ago,” he answered the other boy. “Perhaps you had better take charge, then, eh?”
Malfoy hummed an appreciative ‘yes.’ He slid a hand into the hair at the base of Harry’s neck. “First, Potter, you should tip your head a little.”
When Harry had chosen a direction, Malfoy tipped his head opposite. “Now, kissing is all about sensation, texture. I want to explore you. Explore me back. All right?”
Harry nodded and their lips touched, tentatively. Harry opened his mouth a bit and, in an attempt to follow Malfoy’s instructions, licked Malfoy’s bottom lip. Suddenly he realized that Malfoy’s tongue had joined his, and their tongues were touching, pressing, exploring. It felt very, very good. Emboldened, Harry went to explore the rest of Malfoy’s mouth. His hands tightened in Malfoy’s clothes as they gently teased one another’s tongues, palates, lips.
Harry realized he wanted more. He slid both hands free from Malfoy’s dressing gown and tried to put his hands on Malfoy’s arse. When he found it, it was covered with bunches of fabric from Malfoy’s pyjamas and dressing gown. He started trying to move the fabric out of the way to get a good grip on Malfoy’s arse, and Malfoy started to moan and press his hips into Harry’s.
Harry found himself unable to concentrate on kissing, and he dropped his head to Malfoy’s shoulder and pulled Malfoy’s hips toward his own. He was hard. Hell, they were both hard, and it was erotic and dirty and nothing like he’d ever thought he would want. But he did. Oh, how he did. He couldn’t understand how someone he’d always hated could become someone he desperately wanted. But he could figure that out later. Right now, he wanted, and Malfoy wanted, and they would have it - whatever it was.
Harry pulled at Malfoy's pyjamas and dressing gown. “Can we take these off?” He felt tentative and confident at the same time, which would be weird if he weren’t sixteen years old and used to it by now.
“Harry, you have no idea how badly I want you out of your robes. But… slow? Go slow for me? Surely you can value this gift of privacy as much as I can? You live in a dormitory too, after all….”
“I told you Malfoy… virgin.” Harry blushed a deep red.
Malfoy looked amused. “But you wank, don’t you Potter?”
Harry nodded once, the blush still heating his face.
Malfoy whispered seductively. “I’d love to watch you wank, you know that? Wish I could sneak into your dorm, hide somehow so you couldn’t see me, wouldn’t know I was there.” Malfoy got close, wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, kissed the side of Harry’s neck just under the ear, and kept his face there while he whispered the rest of his thought. “I’d love to know the little details. Do you take everything off? Do you just push your pyjamas out of the way? Do you touch your bollocks? Roll them? Stroke them? Maybe slip a finger into your arse?” Malfoy’s voice was so quiet, his breath on Harry’s neck was warm. “Do you get off fast, so your friends don’t suspect? Or do you like to make it last?”
“I… fast Malfoy, I go fast. And I can’t… I can’t take much more of this teasing, Malfoy. I need to touch you, be touched. I need to see you naked.” Harry pulled Malfoy in close again, pressed - through all that damned fabric - his cock into Malfoy’s hip.
“I’ll show you what I want then, Harry. I’ll strip nice and slow for you, and then you can strip for me. All right?”
Harry could do nothing more than nod, but it was enough for Malfoy, who walked toward a wireless and turned on very, very quiet music. Harry sat on the bed and watched, as Malfoy unbelted his dressing gown, slipped it off his shoulders and dropped it slowly to the floor. Inspired, Harry stood and did the same with his school robe.
Malfoy started to remove his pyjama top, and Harry unbuttoned his own shirt as slowly as he could force himself to go. Malfoy had far fewer buttons and was done sooner than Harry. He put his hands up high, on the back of his neck, and, despite the blush that crept into his cheeks, began to swing his hips slightly back and forth in time to the music from the wireless.
Harry couldn’t stand it anymore. In a strangled voice, he managed “Bloody hell, Malfoy…” and carelessly yanked off his remaining clothes. Malfoy looked a bit disappointed and Harry, now nude, grabbed the other boy around the torso and rubbed their warm chests together. “Don’t be sad, Malfoy. You’re so fucking pretty, I couldn’t help myself. Please, take that off and lie down with me? After I’ve come once I can probably slow myself down a little, but shit… right now I’m so hot for you it’s a wonder I haven’t already shot my load!”
Malfoy apparently decided he should accept this as the compliment Harry meant it to be, and he stepped out of his pyjama bottoms and stood nude and looking slightly unsure in front of Harry.
Harry grabbed Malfoy’s hand and started to pull the other boy toward the bed, but felt resistance. He turned to see Malfoy, naked, blushing, completely erect and looking at the floor.
“Please Malfoy, please lie down with me? I want to touch you so bad, I’m so hard it hurts.” Harry tugged gently at Malfoy’s hand and Malfoy stepped forward. The two boys tumbled onto Malfoy’s bed and spent a few glorious minutes just kissing and frotting, reveling in their mutual nakedness and lust. Malfoy seemed enthusiastically content, but soon Harry wanted more.
“Fuck… Malfoy… I’m getting blue balls here. What do we do? How do we do more?”
“You have no patience, Potter. We have all night.”
“Yes, we have all night, and we’re both sixteen years old. How many erections can you get in a night?”
Malfoy looked surprised, then pleased. “I suppose we should find out, then, shall we?” he replied. Draco rolled onto his right side and pulled Harry over closer, rolling Harry onto his left. Draco pulled Harry’s right arm over his side and kissed him once. Then he smiled and - throwing his left leg over Harry’s hip - grabbed their hard cocks in his left hand and began to stroke up and down their shafts. Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned.
“Shhhh. We can’t be too loud.” Malfoy sounded nervous.
“Then you’d better keep my mouth busy.”
Malfoy smiled and licked Harry’s lips. Harry moaned again, but this time it was into Malfoy’s open mouth, and it was indeed much quieter.
Malfoy’s hand and cock on Harry’s cock was like nothing he’d ever imagined. Malfoy’s hand was firm and strong, but Malfoy’s cock was silken and hard against his own. Two cocks meant twice as much pre-come. And all the while their tongues danced and teased and tasted. It wasn’t long before Harry found himself panting quietly “gonna come, please don’t stop, gonna come….”
Malfoy didn’t stop, instead he increased his pace a fraction and pressed more of his skin against Harry’s naked body. They came together, crashing and spurting and panting.
After he’d finally come - with another person! - with another boy - with Malfoy! - Harry felt finally able to think again. When he opened his eyes Malfoy was staring at him. He looked… well actually, he looked a little annoyed.
“Don’t pull this shit on me, Potty. You are not permitted to freak out on me and act like you’re straight, or I’m a Malfoy and a Death Eater and therefore this is all over and done with and you’re going to go sleep in a chair. You owe me. You hear?” he emphasized his annoyance and determination with a press of hips into Harry’s. “You’re not going to weasel out of this.”
Harry gave Malfoy what he hoped was a very sultry smile, rolled over a little and pushed the other boy down onto the bed. He straddled him and leaned in close. Now Malfoy looked hopeful. And shocked.
“Don’t you fret, Malfoy. We aren’t going to stop until I’ve lost my damn virginity. At the very least. That was fucking incredible and it wasn’t even fucking! I have no intentions of chickening out on you now.” And then Harry lay flush on top of Malfoy and began to kiss and suck on the tender, white skin of his throat.
Underneath Harry, Malfoy moaned and bucked. His hands stroked Harry’s back and then Harry’s arse. Harry could feel both of their cocks begin to firm up again as they pushed through the slick, hot mess of come between them. It felt brilliant, but after a few minutes, Harry again found himself eager to take things to a higher level. He blushed a bit as he took his mouth from Malfoy’s mouth and spoke quietly into Malfoy’s pale shoulder.
“Malfoy, you mentioned all kinds of stuff you wanted to do, and I’m such a fucking virgin I don’t even know what most of it was. Tell me again what you want to do?”
Malfoy seemed to appreciate the small amount of privacy afforded by avoiding one another’s eyes. “I… this is what I want to do, Potter. I want you to fuck me. I want to jerk off while you fuck me, and I want you to watch me come while your cock is inside my body. And then, I want us to kiss until we’re both hard again, and then I want to fuck you, Harry Potter.”
Harry couldn’t do anything but moan and then nod into Malfoy’s neck. He took a moment to gather a bit of composure, then pushed up on one hand and looked Malfoy in the eye. “Just tell me how, Malfoy.”
“You’ll need preparation, but I don’t. All I need is lube. There are spells for that, but I like to use a potion I buy instead.” Malfoy squirmed away and fetched the potion from his bedside table. Then, silently, he put lube on Harry’s cock. Harry tried not to cry out loud with pleasure. It wasn’t easy. Soon Harry was lubed and Malfoy carelessly put a bit of the remainder on himself. Then he grabbed Harry’s cock and pulled Harry into place over his own body.
“Just… sink into me… oh fuck, yes… yes….”
Malfoy's voice was whisper-quiet but Harry could hear the intensity in it nonetheless. It matched how he felt about their connection.
“Fucking hell, Malfoy. You feel amazing, hot and tight, wet and wanting… you feel better than anything else. It’s a good thing I just came a few minutes ago, or I’d be coming right this second.”
“Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“Move. Move right now, or I’ll kill you.”
Harry slid further into Malfoy, who grabbed him from underneath with everything he had. He felt Malfoy’s arms around his back and shoulders, Malfoy’s legs around his waist, Malfoy’s muscles clenching around his cock. Harry moaned into Malfoy’s ear and then, feeling inspired, licked it teasingly.
Malfoy whimpered and Harry responded swiftly, pulling most of the way out of Malfoy’s tight, slick sheath and then pressing back in.
“Please fuck me harder, I won’t break.”
Harry was eager to obey, and soon he found himself fucking hard and fast into the boy underneath him. It felt so amazing he knew he wouldn’t last long. Not wanting Draco to misunderstand, he started to whisper his thoughts into Malfoy's ear. “Malfoy… oh hell, Malfoy you feel so good inside. My cock loves your arse, Malfoy, I’m gonna come, Malfoy, I am gonna come any second now… I’m gonna….”
“Come inside me, Harry. Give it to me.” Malfoy’s voice was throaty and quiet and very intense.
“Yes!” Harry came again, hard and long, fucking Malfoy and loving it. It was intense and amazing. The best orgasm he’d ever had. He rested on Malfoy's body and Malfoy stroked his sweaty back. Then he realized Malfoy's erection was pressing into his belly.
“Bloody hell, Malfoy. You haven’t come yet. You were going to wank and come… I want to watch you come… Fuck me?”
Harry kissed Malfoy’s mouth again, amazed at the bizarre turn his life had taken and utterly unwilling to think about it right now.
“All right, Harry, I do want to come… are you sure? It… well, this will hurt a little before it feels good. But it will feel good, I promise.”
“I want to try everything, Malfoy. After all, I owe you.” And Harry winked.
So Malfoy prepared him carefully. One finger, two, then three. They kissed and Harry squirmed and begged for more. Malfoy explained that hands and knees would probably be the most comfortable position but Harry was adamant. They would fuck face to face, just like the first time. So Malfoy lined up his cockhead and began to press into Harry, who winced and panted and grimaced and then, finally, nodded.
Malfoy finally pushed his cock the rest of the way into Harry. He panted whispers into Harry’s ear. “Oh fuck… I’ve dreamed of this, I’ve dreamed of you…”
“So have I… Draco.” Draco’s eyes flew open to hear Harry call him by his first name for the first time.
In the morning Harry woke, still so relaxed, so sated, so… well… happy was really the word for it. He stretched and opened his eyes and looked right into the eyes of Malfoy, no, Draco. His lover. Shit. Harry had a lover. He smiled, and Draco smiled back. Harry felt warmed down to his toes. And his cock stiffened slightly more, adding to his expected morning wood.
“Last night was amazing, Draco.” Harry ran a hand down Draco’s naked side, and cupped his lover’s arse.
“Mmm. Yes. I thought so as well.” Draco smiled and put a hand on Harry’s cheek. Harry thought Draco looked particularly nice in the light of sunrise, which shone pinkly thought the sheer curtains over the windows behind the bed.
Draco yawned discreetly behind his other hand and then pressed himself a bit more closely into Harry’s naked skin. “Sadly, there will be no morning quickie. I have to be downstairs for breakfast in a little more than an hour, or Mother will be in here and wanting to know why the room reeks of sex. And you have to look for the damn relic with me. I have quite a few old metal things in here. I really have no idea which one it could be.”
Harry cocked his head and thought for a moment. Then he found his wand, wrapped his hand in fabric, held it up, and called out quietly Accio Ravenclaw’s artefact. A dull silver ornament that looked, perhaps, a bit like a knife, or - oddly enough - a Muggle letter-opener, wended its way through the air from a shelf on the other side of the room, falling dully into Harry’s protected hand. It had a pattern with ten wands. It didn’t look familiar.
“Huh. Awfully glad I didn’t think of that last night in the dark. Think of what we would have missed!”
Draco could only stare.
“Draco?”
“It’s real.”
“Well. Of course it is.” Harry tried not to sound annoyed, but what a strange thing for Draco to say. “What did you think this was all about?”
“Harry, there’s a difference between thinking and knowing…. Before you summoned it, I sort of… thought it was here. Maybe. Now I know it is. And I played with that thing as a kid. All the time. I’d told myself… I was sure there wouldn’t be anything at all. That your search would come up empty. Or that you might, possibly find something, but that I wouldn’t recognize it, whatever you found. I thought it would still be under my mattress, or up on a high shelf and I wouldn’t know anything about it. But I have held that thing, I’ve touched it, I’ve… my father put that thing in my bed and it corrupted me. My whole life I have taken my father’s love for granted. Even after seeing that memory I took his love for granted.
“But now… I feel a little sick, frankly. Will you please take that thing directly to the headmaster and destroy it? I… I need some time alone or I’m going to fall apart in front of my mother. I’ll see you as soon as I get back to Hogwarts. Mother knows I’m only planning on staying a few more days. She knows… she knows the task the Dark Lord has set for me. She knows why I was planning to stay only a few days. I have to decide if I’m going to tell her I’ve changed sides. I can’t prepare for all of this with you naked in my bed. You’re far too distracting.”
Harry gave Draco a sad smile, and kissed him, once. Then he slipped out of bed, dressed quickly, and wrapped the horcrux in his invisibility cloak. He kissed Draco one more time, this time a lingering kiss, and gave him an awkward hug. “I’ll be waiting for you, Draco.”
“Harry… wait.”
Harry stopped just before he threw the Floo powder in the fireplace.
“Do you remember a week ago, when I wanted to talk alone with Dumbledore?”
Harry nodded.
“I was asking for a private room, as payment for doing this. Dumbledore agreed. He actually said prefects used to get them as a matter of course, and there was enough space for me to have one. I also asked to have a room that I could enter through the hallway as well as through Slytherin, because, I said, I was afraid of how my housemates might react to my change of loyalties. He said I could have that as well, and he seemed most concerned for my safety. So you see what this means, Harry? We’ll be back at school, for the entire rest of break, and I’ll have a private room. You will be able to just knock on my door.”
Harry gave Draco a huge grin and kissed him yet again. “This is the best present… ever.”
finis