A ThreeDay Miracle, and More

by tavia-d

When he and his family are evicted from their home, he seeks out his former nemesis who surprisingly agrees to help him. All is well when ends well, you'll say. Maybe. But not when strange, unknown family ties are revealed unexpectedly.

A Three-Day Miracle, and More

---

He had a good life. A grand Manor, stylish clothes, a limo with a driver. He could do anything he wanted, go anywhere he pleased. Sitting there, on the edge of the bridge, looking down at the frozen river, imagining what it would be like to crash his body down onto the thick ice below, he remembered the parties and the formal dinners at the Manor. Yes, he had a good life. The operative word being had.

He'd lost that life the moment his father had been arrested and the authorities had confiscated everything they'd owned. They'd said that the fortune had been acquired through illegal means, and it was considered 'evidence'.

Thinking of what had happened, it looked to him more and more like someone highly situated in the Parliament had a personal grudge against his father. One had to be in a very powerful position to subdue all his father's friends, contacts and relations.

When they had been thrown out of their home, he and his mother were left only with the clothes they were dressed in. The authorities had taken anything that was worth something: money, jewellery, artefacts, clothes, everything. Thank God they'd forgotten about his mother's wedding band. He wished it had been more expensive than just 18-karat solid gold, something with diamonds or at least some other precious stones on it. She could have sold it at a much higher price than she had. But no such luck. The money they had received for the wedding band was gone in minutes on second-hand clothing, but at least they were dressed more appropriately for the freezing weather.

With no money left, renting a room was out of the question, and so they were forced to stay at a night shelter. It was so substandard in comparison to what they'd been used to, but it was a roof over their heads, even if just for the next two weeks. He didn't know what they would do, where they would live, but he would think about that when the time came. At that moment, his mother's health was the first priority. The good thing was that he didn't have to pay the doctor who attended to his mother. The prescription was something different altogether.

He had to earn some money soon. She needed the medication badly. Helping the people who worked at the night shelter wouldn't bring him more than another helping of food, which was good, but not enough by far.

After two days of knocking from door to door, he even considered begging, but his posture was too haughty for a beggar. He learnt quickly that aristocratic pride wouldn't put food on the table, or pay for his mother's prescription. He couldn't earn any money, and his mother's illness was aggravating. None of the shops or companies in the area would hire him, not even paid by the hour. It seemed the scandal in the media was much more extensive than he'd imagined.

Walking back to the night shelter, he stopped on the bridge. The question was if crushing his body on the hard ice below would solve anything. It wouldn't, and his mother needed him. He forced his numb feet to move. When he arrived at the shelter, he was frozen stiff. It was warm inside and the smell of food made him realise just how hungry he was.

As he made his way to the improvised cafeteria, he raised his eyes, and what he saw made him stop dead in his tracks. This was exactly what he needed for his misery to be complete. The bane of his existence was supervising the food distribution.

"Shit! Potter."

~:~:~:~:~

Harry was staring at the evening paper. He'd stared at the front pages of the local press, since the Malfoy scandal began, more than he had in his whole life. Well, actually, he'd been staring at the photos of a certain blond. And there was a photo with him in each and every edition of every single newspaper and magazine Harry had a subscription for.

"Close your mouth, Harry! You're drooling, again!"

"I am not!" Harry denied, angrily folding the newspaper, almost spilling the tea from the cup in front of him as he tossed it on the table. Hermione's wide smile infuriated him even more.

"Yes... Right!" Taking a napkin, she wiped the corner of his mouth.

"Stop it!" Harry frowned as he pushed her hand aside.

"Oh, come on, Harry!" Hermione said. "Why don't you just admit, that—"

"Because there is nothing to admit!" Harry interrupted her.

"Of course there isn't." Hermione sighed. "So, what are you up to?"

"Nothing special. I'm going to the night shelter to meet with Sarah, and then we'll go to see a movie, I suppose. Maybe a drink afterwards. I don't really know." Harry began to squirm in his seat.

"Aah, a date!" She looked at him quizzically.

"I wouldn't call it a date per se..."

"Harry, when are you going to tell her? She's beginning to fall for you, you know. Stop leading her on like this."

"Tell her what, exactly?" He tried to avoid Hermione's gaze, but to no avail.

"That you're sleeping with Draco Malfoy's photo under your pillow!"

"What? That's so not true!" Harry cried, appalled, but his friend's twinkling eyes told another story altogether and forced him into submission.

"Okay, okay! I admit! I... kind of... had something like a little, tiny, insignificant crush on him when we were in school, but he was such a brat, and he hated me. Besides, it wasn't like we were on the same social level. He would have never looked at me that way. I think he's straight, anyway…" Whispering the last words, he lowered his head and pouted. "And it's been over for so many years—"

"I beg to differ," Hermione disagreed, looking at him intently, "about both your last statements."

"What do you mean?" he asked, hating the somewhat hopeful tone in his voice.

"I've done some research in your behalf. The rumours are that at the parties, he usually came alone, but never left by himself, and the companionship wasn't always feminine." Harry tried to prevent the knot in his throat from choking him, swallowing rapidly. "And you are not over him, not by a long shot," Hermione continued.

Harry breathed deeply and closed his eyes as he exhaled, his hands curling into fists to hide their tremor. "I'm over him," he said softly.

"Of course you are! That's why you and Ron won't see eye to eye. Because you are so over Draco, and you didn't punch Ron in his nose when he said that the little prick deserves everything he's going through right now. And—"

"Stop it, Hermione, please stop it. Just stop it!" Harry buried his head in his hands. He slowly brushed his fingers through his messy hair, covering his face with his forearms instead.

After a while, with a deep sigh, he uncovered his face and caught his best friend's eyes. They looked at each other for a long time, or at least, that was the way it felt like. When he began talking, his voice was no more than a whisper, and Hermione had to move nearer to hear him.

"It is so difficult to discover your sexuality the way I did."

"You've never told me what happened," she whispered back.

"Especially when you have a declared homophobe for your best friend, and you have no one to talk to," he continued as if he didn't hear what she said.

She took his hand in hers and began to rub his knuckles, slowly, with her thumb. "Yes, Ron can be almost obsessed about that, at times," she murmured.

"You have no idea." Harry sighed, again. "I was so confused about everything, and after my first erotic dream about Draco, I woke up terrified. What if Ron found out? What would he do? Sneak into my house and strangle me in my sleep? I had to be extra careful about what I said, where I looked, what I did. And Draco wasn't helping."

"But what happened, Harry? What triggered all this?" Hermione asked impatiently. "You've never told me."

"Because, I honestly don't know. I'd just found myself on the floor, during one of my many fights with Draco, thinking..." Harry sighed, yet again – he was doing that a lot lately – and shook his head. "He was hovering over me, throwing insults and threatening me with his fist. Don't ask me how I'd got in that posture, but in the position I was at that moment, my face was inches from his groin. Suddenly, I realised that his fly was all I could concentrate on, and all I could think of was how… long could his dick be, and if he would or would not fit into my mouth, how much of him I would be able to..." Harry took a deep breath before he continued, "How did he taste and smell? He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, shouting at me, 'Look at me, Potter, when I'm talking to you!' and his mouth caught my eye, and all I wanted was to snog him senseless, but he turned on his heels and left me there yearning and bewildered. As I rose, I heard Ron swearing at Draco, his eyes full of hate, and my first thought was that Ron didn't have to find out what I'd been thinking about that beautiful blond, ever. I was so scared and I couldn't think straight."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione brushed his hair with her fingers. She wished she could say something to make him comfortable, but she knew he was right about Ron and about his situation in general. He had to come to terms with himself, his feelings and his sexuality on his own. She could just be supportive and nothing more.

"I've got to go now!" Harry said, standing up. He took his winter coat and left without saying another word. He felt so miserable. Hermione was right. He was leading that nice girl on, he was lying to her, and he was lying to himself. Ron introduced them, so what could he say? He knew Ron's temper, and he couldn't risk exposing himself.

Besides, Draco was like a forbidden fruit to him. It was over anyway, so why bother thinking of him? But he couldn't stop himself.

When he arrived at the night shelter, he made his way to the improvised cafeteria. He saw Sarah at the long table, helping with the food distribution. Reluctantly, he went to greet her, but she was immersed in a very important conversation with one of her friends who was working there.

As he waited for her to finish, he glanced through the main room, looking for nothing in particular, his insecurities painfully filling his heart.

Like in a dream, he saw the front door opening, and... he froze. That couldn't be. No! His eyes were playing tricks on him, he was sure of it, but the white-blond-haired man who entered the night shelter seemed so real. The stranger was trying desperately to cover his head with the hood of his coat as he hastily retreated to the other end of the room, disappearing behind one of the doors there. Could he possibly be... Draco? Harry had to know. He simply had to.

Without even thinking of Sarah, he rapidly made his way to the door the blond had disappeared through.

"Great," Harry murmured after he opened the door and entered the hallway. There were at least ten other doors and Draco could be behind any of them. He breathed deeply and began to open the doors one by one.

As he opened the third door, he just forgot to breathe. The room was small and almost dark; the single light source was a little candle on a table by the wall across from the door. The shaking body of a little woman was lying on the bed in the middle of the room. Bent over her, trying to cover and comfort her was Draco, sitting on the edge of the bed. He was looking at his mother with concern, caressing her cheek with his fingers.

The candle behind him was throwing lights and shadows onto his face, making his profile look ethereal and his white-blond hair seem like a halo around his head.

"The Angel of my doom," Harry whispered, staring with wide eyes at Draco.

"I'm going to bring you the medication, Mother, but try at least to drink some soup, please!" Draco pleaded. "I'll leave now and when I'll be back, you'll take the medicine, and you'll get better, you'll see."

"Don't go without eating something," his mother muttered. "You've lost so much weight lately."

"Yes, Mum, I will." He kissed her forehead and rose from the bed.

Harry retired from the doorframe as quickly as he could, but it seemed not quickly enough. Before he could open the door to the night shelter's main room, he heard Draco's voice slicing the air and cutting deep into his heart.

"What are you doing here, Potter? You came to gloat? Where's your buddy-buddy weasel? I can't believe he's missing such a grand opportunity to make fun of me. I'm sure he's been dreaming of this for years!" The blond was throwing daggers through narrowed eyes, and Harry felt each and every one of them.

"I didn't know you were here!" the black-haired young man spat through gritted teeth. "I just saw you when you entered the night shelter, and I didn't even recognise you at first. I only realised it was you after I opened the door and saw you sitting on the edge of your mother's bed!"

Draco somewhat calmed himself, but he still watched Harry with suspicion. "Well, now that you know for sure that it's me, you can call your friends and let the show begin!"

"I'm not calling my friends, and I'm not here to make fun of you. What happened to you and your mother is so unfair. I mean, to leave somebody without anything it's wrong. Here." And Harry took a ten-pound note out of his pocket.

"Oh! Right!" Draco sneered, looking at the note. "You aren't here to make fun of me. You're here to humiliate me!"

"Come on, Malfoy. We both know you need money really badly."

The blond closed his eyes and lowered his head. He couldn't afford to refuse the money Harry was offering him. With a shaking hand and avoiding the other man's eyes, he took the note. "Thank you," he whispered as he tried to walk past Harry and out of the door. As he put his hand on the doorknob, he heard Harry's voice.

"Try to buy yourself something more substantial to eat, will you?"

He spun on his heels and took a step towards his ex-schoolmate almost bumping into him. When he began to speak, Harry felt like he was shrinking, and Draco was towering over him, so big and merciless, even if the blond was slightly shorter than him.

"Why don't you say 'Buy yourself something nice, Draco'? With ten pounds, I can buy so many things. I have a fortune in my pocket, but I'm such a parsimonious arse," the blond-haired young man mocked. "Fuck you, Potter!" He was taken aback by the wide smile that flourished on the black-haired man's lips.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Harry asked.

Draco's eyes widened, his mouth agape, but after a few moments, he managed to compose himself. "My mother has pneumonia, and I don't know how much her prescription costs. Her medication is my first priority, you idiot!"

"Sorry," Harry muttered, his smile faltering. "I didn't think—"

"Think, Potter? You? Thinking? Ha! That would be a first!"

The next moment, Harry saw a blur of white-blond hair and heard the door, slamming shut. He closed his eyes and sighed. Why he had missed this ungrateful bastard was beyond him, but he couldn't help himself.

~:~:~:~:~

As he left the night shelter, Draco wanted to scream. He was so furious and humiliated. Not because Potter offered him money. He just wanted to help, Draco understood that much. He felt humiliated because he had to take the money, and because it was the only money in his pocket. And what Potter had said to him... How he dared to think he knew better, which were Draco's priorities, to suggest what he would do with his money? He stopped and tried to calm himself and concentrate. He had to purchase his mother's prescription.

In the first chemist's he entered, he found out that the medication his mother needed cost way over the ten pounds he had in his pocket. The chemist was very firm in saying that if he insisted in offering his help instead of money, she would call the police. In the second chemist's, it wasn't that bad. They refused him, too, but at least they didn't threaten to call the police.

The experience he had, entering the third chemist's though, made him reconsider his chances of survival in general.

As he opened the chemist's door, he had the urge to exit, instantly. The chemist, a middle-aged man that looked like he would be suitable for any other job but the one he was currently providing, turned from what he was doing in the moment he heard the bell above the door and began to check him out with a wolfish grin on his lips.

"How may I help you?" he asked in a lecherous tone.

Draco tried to swallow the lump in his throat and hesitantly approached the counter. "Erm… Hello. I have a prescription, but I don't have the money for the whole dosage. Can you give me some of the medication that would be around ten pounds or less, please?" he murmured.

The chemist took the prescription and studied it carefully. "The medication is for your mother, I presume?" The platinum-blond-haired young man nodded, and the chemist continued, "As I read here, she has pneumonia. The prescription is for the minimal dosage she has to take to be out of danger, so no, I can't give you a smaller one than this."

Draco breathed deeply. "I don't have that kind of money." He tried to retrieve the prescription, but the chemist grabbed his wrist, startling him.

"Maybe… we can do something about that," he purred, rubbing his thumb over Draco's wrist. "You… are a very pretty lad."

"Excuse me?" the blond inquired puzzled.

"I'm sure…" the chemist continued, "we can make an arrangement with mutual benefits."

Draco's breath quickened, and his eyes widened. He tried to free his wrist, but to no avail. "Will you let go of my wrist?"

"You see, you can make a lot of money with those exotic looks of yours: white-blond hair, grey eyes and a pretty face…"

"I don't think so!"

"Oh yes! And I'm sure you hide a very beautiful body underneath those cheap, dirty clothes. You would be the Queen of the ball. The classiest clientele would seek out your tight little arse. I know somebody who knows somebody who can introduce you in the highest circles, and you'll no longer have to worry about money anymore."

"Let go of me! Now!" the grey-eyed young man shouted, jerking himself free. "I'm not interested." As he made his way to the door, he heard the chemist laughing.

"With your mother ill, I don't think you have much of a choice, lad, but suit yourself. If you change your mind, you know where to find me!"

Draco fled the shop, slamming the door, and he kept on running for a few minutes. His mind was in turmoil. Was this everything his life was reduced to? Selling his body for money? That wasn't the life he'd dreamt of. He wanted a career. He wanted to be respected and acknowledged for his character, personality, skills and knowledge. He didn't want to become a whore, no matter how high the circles he would be introduced in were, and how well he would be paid for his services. There had to be a way to earn some money other than that.

As he walked aimlessly on the streets with his hands in his pockets, he felt the ten-pound note Potter had given to him earlier. He could ask Potter for help. He stopped, shocked at that thought, and he dismissed it for the next five minutes or so. But he began thinking of it again, and he tried to consider the alternatives. At least he knew Potter, even if they hated each other, or that was what Draco always thought. Besides, Potter was his age, not some old slimy git he had to let fuck him, whether he liked it or not. Well… and Potter was fit, and not so bad looking. Okay! He had gorgeous eyes… and he had a nice smile. And maybe he was interested in men, if he remembered well Harry's reaction from their first encounter at the night shelter. Oh, yes! And Draco just insulted him. He'd fucked up his chances of finding Potter in a good mood.

So, at that moment, Draco's choices were: one, becoming a whore; two, getting humiliated by asking Potter for help; three, letting his mother die and starving to death; four… there wasn't a fourth choice.

Asking Potter for help was definitely his best choice. He could handle that one much better than the other two. So, the plan was to find where Potter lived and think what he would tell him.

The first part wasn't that difficult. The people working at the night shelter seemed to know Potter, and surprisingly they gave him the address. It wasn't very far… When he arrived in front of the building where Potter's flat was, Draco stared incredulously at it. He couldn't imagine that such a luxurious building existed in the night shelter's neighbourhood.

As he walked inside, he was surprised to see that the caretaker didn't throw him out. He just asked Draco who he was looking for, and he showed him the door to the staircase. Potter's flat was on the first floor. After ringing the doorbell for at least five minutes, Draco considered leaving, but before reaching the stairs, Potter opened the door.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Potter." The blond-haired man turned. "Erm… I want to make you an offer," he said, avoiding the green eyes in front of him.

"An offer?"

"Yes, but I'd rather talk to you inside if you don't mind."

For a moment, Harry was tempted to refuse, but he was intrigued. What offer did his ex-schoolmate want to make him? So, he accepted and removed himself from the door. Draco walked in and set himself on the couch.

"Want something to drink?" the jet-black-haired man asked obligingly, fixing himself a cognac.

"No, thank you. I don't drink on an empty stomach."

"I can fix you something to eat if you're hungry."

"Look, Potter. I didn't come here to ask you for food. I came here to ask for your help. My mother's prescription… I don't have money for it, and she needs the medication badly. Can you help me? I will pay you back in any way you find appropriate."

Harry frowned. "What are you on about? What do you mean that you will pay me back in any way I find appropriate?" He was baffled. "What if I find it appropriate to take you like my servant until I consider your debt paid, to ask you to do my laundry, clean my flat, cook for me? What if I want something entirely different from you, like… sex? What then?"

Draco never watched him during the speech, but after a few seconds, he raised his eyes and looked straight into the green ones.

"Potter, my mother might die if she doesn't begin the treatment soon. It might be too late already. What do you think I meant?"

Harry's mouth went dry. He couldn't believe this. It was a dream, wasn't it? He could have the gorgeous blond in his bed. The news made his breath hitch and his brain stop functioning. He had to pull himself together. He forced himself to get calm and think straight again.

"Okay. I'll help you. You said earlier that your mother has pneumonia. Don't you think she would be better in a hospital?"

"Yes, Potter, she would, but I can't afford that. I have no money, remember?" Draco quizzed cynically.

"I'll pay for the hospital. We'd better take her there and think about back payment after she is under medication," Harry stated, but he was still dazed about everything, and he stayed there, his feet glued to the floor, staring at the other man.

"Yes, Potter. That would be terrific, but don't you think we ought to take her to the hospital sooner rather than later? Snap out of it! Move!" Draco ordered, rising from the couch and heading for the door. "Today, Potter! Today!"

"Oh! Yes! Sure! Just a second!" Harry shouted in his way to his bedroom. "Bossy prick," he murmured as he changed his clothes. What had he been thinking when he accepted Draco's offer? That bitchy bastard promised to be a handful, but Harry couldn't suppress his smile. He was going to handle Draco in one way or another.

~:~:~:~:~

At the hospital, the doctor began Narcissa's treatment immediately. As Harry paid the medication and the first three days of her stay in the hospital, Draco was pacing nervously. He tried to get in with his mother, but they didn't let him. After a while, the doctor came to talk to them. Narcissa's condition aggravated in the last few hours, so she had to stay in the hospital for at least ten days. The worst thing was that Draco wouldn't be allowed to see her for the next couple of days.

"Come on," Harry said. "Let's eat something."

"I'd like to stay, if you don't mind." Draco set on the couch in the hallway and hugged himself, lowering his head to hide his eyes from Harry's gaze.

"And do what? You're hungry and exhausted. What do you think you'll accomplish starving yourself? Guarding the door of her ward won't make your mother heal any faster, you know."

Draco sighed. "I hate you… when you're right."

"I thought you hated me, period."

"You were… annoying, at times," Draco whispered, and a little smile flourished on his lips, "but I can't say I hated you per se! I just… wanted to smash your face."

"That's… comforting," Harry frowned.

"Oh, shut up! I suppose they have a cafeteria or whatever. I think I'll have something to eat. I feel a little dizzy." He rose from the couch and began to walk down the hall.

"I can fix you something to eat at my place, and then you can crash on the couch in the living room and take a nap or something."

Hearing Harry, Draco stopped dead. Shit. Payback time. He sighed and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Okay," he whispered. "Fuck." At least his mother was in hospital under treatment.

He reluctantly followed. As they arrived at the building Harry lived in, seeing the caretaker, the blond remembered. "Say, Potter. What's the point of having a caretaker if anybody can walk into the building at any time?"

"No, they can't. Why do you say that?"

"When I came earlier, looking for you, the caretaker just asked me who I was looking for and pointed me in the direction of your flat."

"Oh! That. I'm a solicitor, and I'm the legal advisor for the people at the night shelter."

"Figures. And it was written on my forehead that I'm staying at the night shelter," Draco mocked.

Harry looked him over from head to toe. "Kind of."

"Thanks, Potter, I really needed that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't take it like that. Next to the people who are looking for me, beggars, junkies and the sort, you look surprisingly well-dressed… for a homeless man, I mean. Honestly."

"But my clothes are dirty and cheap enough to look poor. It's okay, I know that much. It hurts, though, to realise how much it shows. I'm not used to this, and sometimes I snap. Somehow I hope I'll never have to get used to this kind of life."

As they entered Harry's flat, Draco's feeling of awkwardness deepened. He didn't expect to be killed or beaten to death. Then why were his palms getting sweaty and why was his heart fastening its beat?

"I usually don't have company, so don't expect a home-cooked meal," Harry said, reaching for the fridge's door.

"Anything will be fine, though I'm not very hungry at the moment. I'd like to use the bathroom, if you don't mind."

"Down the hall, last door on the right. I'll try to come up with something more or less edible in the meantime."

Draco, slowly headed for the bathroom, entered it and closed the door behind him. It was so long since he'd been in a clean one. As he approached the mirror, he stared at the grey eyes reflected in it.

His fingers brushed over the scarce hair on his cheeks. Not a pretty sight, he mused. His platinum blond hair was dirty and tangled, and he needed a shave really badly. He hated that poor excuse for a beard. It made him look ridiculous, like a teenager who tried to look more mature by growing a beard. He passed that phase a long time ago. But, even if he was in his mid-twenties, and he ought to have developed a much more manly appearance, his body had a different opinion.

The fact that he had such a pale complexion, with rather white hair, explained it completely. In fact, his bed partners, both male and female, appreciated his lack of hair, but those two hundred or so hairs on his face still made him look silly.

Maybe he should ask Potter to lend him a razor. His eyes widened in realisation. 'Be careful what you wish for,' his mother used to say, 'it might come true!' He closed his eyes. Depending on what Potter would want as payback, his wish for a shave and a hot bath might come true. His rival would make sure of it before taking Draco into his bed.

The knock on the door startled him.

"I'll be right out," the white-blond-haired man said, but Harry's voice stopped him.

"No, no. Take your time. Actually, making dinner will take longer than I expected, and I wondered if you wouldn't like to take a shower in the meantime." As Draco opened the door with a puzzled expression, Harry continued, "I can lend you some clean clothes and pyjamas. In the cabinet over the sink, there are towels, new razors, shampoo and a spare toothbrush. I'm sure that you'll feel much more comfortable after that. What do you say?"

"O...kay," the blond murmured. "I'd like that. I haven't had a decent bath in ages."

"Good. I'll be back in a second with the clothes." Harry smiled and turned, heading for his room, not far from the bathroom.

Draco stood there, frozen. He tried to regain his breath and to swallow the lump in his throat. "Fuck." So, the payback would take place in the master bedroom. Not that Potter said that, but all the signs and clues led the blond to that conclusion. "Well, Potty, if you are expecting an obedient, submissive bottom, you are in for a big surprise."

~:~:~:~:~

Meanwhile, in his room, Harry was rummaging through his dressing room. He knew exactly what he wanted to see Draco dressed in, but he was so nervous about everything that was happening. His hands were shaking like crazy. Okay... The black silk pyjamas. When he'd bought them, he didn't think they would ever be used. But now... HE was there.

The man of his wet dreams was in his house, in his bathroom, in his shower. Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His knees were trembling, and he was so aroused like he'd never been before in his life.

"Oh, shit!" he murmured, closing his eyes and trying to master the dizziness that overwhelmed him. Slowly, he took out the pyjamas, and hugging them to his chest, he made his way to the bathroom.

As he reached for the door handle, he heard the shower running. Oh, no! That wasn't good. The quiver of his hand became uncontrollable, and he almost ran away. But the curiosity got the best of him, so he opened the door and entered the bathroom.

He tried not to look. He really tried, but his eyes didn't listen to reason. Erm... and there was another part of his body that seemed to think on its own and make his mind create images that he never thought he would ever have. Not that he could see Draco very clearly through the shower's glass walls, but he could see enough to accelerate his pulse and to let his imagination run wild.

Draco was soaping himself at the moment with his back to Harry. His flawless, milky skin was shining under the water. His perfectly shaped butt made the black-haired man swallow hard, and his hand involuntary reached for the bulge in his trousers. Fuck! Harry had to get out of there, and fast. He hardly made his legs move, though, and when he finally made it to the hallway, slowly closing the door, his knees gave up, and he slipped along the wall, eyes closed.

Oh! He was so fucked up. The image of Draco's naked body was scourged into his mind. All he wanted was to get under the shower and wrap himself around the gorgeous blond-haired man, feel that white skin under his fingertips, smell Draco's scent, taste the other man's... everything. He wanted to feel that beautiful body writhing beneath his while he pounded in that exquisite arse until they both fainted with exhaustion and silly grins on their faces.

No, no, no! He couldn't come in his trousers. That would be pathetic. He had to calm himself, so he tried to think of something else. Oh, no! Dinner. He'd totally forgotten all about it. Yes, he was definitely screwed.

Feeling his arousal finally subsiding, he ran to the kitchen. After the shower, Draco would be hungry, and a good dinner would be the perfect opportunity for socialising and mending relationships.

~:~:~:~:~

Oblivious, Draco continued his shower. Oh! It was so good to feel the water running over him, cleansing him. He'd dreamt for days about that. A good bath always relaxed him and cleared his mind. And having his hair washed... Oh! He hadn't tended to his hair like this for ages, and the hair products weren't half bad. As he got out of the shower and wiped himself with one of the towels he'd taken from the cupboard, he saw the pyjamas.

"When did the... shit," Draco muttered, realising that Harry had been there whilst he'd been in the shower. "Oh, well... that's that. Black silk? Wow! Nice, Potty, very nice!"

The blond closed his eyes. The silk felt so good on his body, caressing his skin. It wasn't the finest silk money could buy, but it was silk, nonetheless. The lack of underwear made him feel naked and exposed, though. 'Could Potter be more obvious than that? Guess not,' thought Draco. He said he would do anything that Potter asked, hadn't he? Draco tried to get used to the idea, even if he wasn't too comfortable with it.

He made his way to the kitchen to face Harry. Well... he was kind of hungry, too, but the thought of talking about certain things with the lad, erm... man, made his stomach squirm and the hunger subside. But the issue had to be dealt with sooner or later. He had to know the form of payback Harry wanted for all the help he'd given Draco until then and from then forth.

The black-haired man's eyes stuck on Draco's body as the grey-eyed young man walked into the kitchen. The contrast between his neck's pale skin and the black silk was striking. 'Wow,' he thought, gulping. 'Stop staring, Harry, stop staring. Lower your eyes,' he continued telling himself. He lowered them, and his eyes glued on Draco's… 'No, no, no. Lower, Harry. Lower. Damn it.' It took all his will power to lower his eyes even more. 'Shit. How can anyone have such gorgeous toes? Turn, you obsessed idiot. Find something to do, or sit down and look at your plate!' So Harry sat down and looked purposely at his plate.

"So, Draco, how was your shower?"

"Not having one for so many days made me appreciate it much more than usual," the blond said, trying to sit on the chair on the other side of the table as quickly as he could and busying himself with the food in his own plate. They ate for a while, none of them knowing what to say.

"I was thinking..." Harry began, making an effort to be casual. "How about going shopping tomorrow? You and your mother need new clothes and a lot of other stuff, and I don't have to go to work with it being Saturday, so we could—"

"How about you telling me the way you want me to pay you back," Draco interrupted Harry's monologue.

"I...I haven't made up my mind about that. I'm still considering the possibilities," the green-eyed young man mumbled, blushing a little.

"Well then, I'll go change and leave for the hospital to see how my mother is doing." Draco stood up resolutely and continued, "Thanks for dinner, I'll..."

"Wait! Don't you think you should get some sleep for a few hours? You're tired, and you can't do anything for your mother at the moment. Depriving yourself of sleep and food, and making yourself ill, certainly won't help her," Harry argued, trying to stop him from leaving.

"Have I told you that I hate it when you're right?"

"Yes," Harry said, smiling.

"Right! I'm actually very tired and a few hours of sleep would do me good."

"I considered arranging the couch for you, but I finally decided you should sleep in the bedroom. The bed is much more comfortable, and it is big enough. You need all the comfort you can get to rest properly. Come on."

"Of...course." 'The question still stands,' Draco told himself. 'Could Potter be more obvious? It seems he has resources.'

As they walked into the bedroom, Harry turned on the lights. The room was nice and cosy, and the bed was... not that big, Draco thought, but big enough if he kept to his side of it.

"May I ask you a question," Harry said suddenly.

"Sure."

"I always had the impression that you had many family friends. I mean... I never expected to find you in a night shelter."

"I never expected to be forced to stay in one. When they evicted us from the Manor, they took everything, including my mobile phone, Father's address book, everything. I've never had to learn by heart our family friends' phone numbers and addresses, and the one friend my mother remembered, turned us down when we knocked at her door on our way from the Manor to town. She said we're endangering her family. So we had no other choice, after she politely asked us to leave." Draco sighed.

"Endangering them? How? What kind of friends are they?" the black-haired young man asked, appalled.

"The kind who seem to remember you when they need you, but forget all about you when you need them. The kind who would do anything to make you remember them when you have position, money and power, but would avoid you in any possible way when you're down and broke. True friends," the blond snapped sarcastically.

"Yes, I know the type."

"After we arrived at the shelter, I tried to find a job in this part of town, but nobody wants to hire me, not even for an hour. I don't get it. It's like they are scared of something—"

"Or someone," Harry interrupted the other man's complaint.

"Yes. It's like someone threatened or bribed them, or blackmailed them, or something. I don't know."

"One of your father's enemies?"

"I suppose. Someone with a lot of money and power. I think I'll go to sleep now," Draco said, his eyes closing. When Harry returned from the bathroom, the white-blond-haired man was fast asleep.

~:~:~:~:~

He felt cosy and warm, and he didn't want to open his eyes. Something smelt nice, and that fluffy thing touching his nose made him want to dive into that scent. The ocean of emotions that fluffiness gave him was the best feeling he ever had, so he fell asleep again.

The second time he woke up, the same feeling overwhelmed him. The difference was that he also felt aroused, more aroused than he had felt in years. And it became quite uncomfortable, so he began touching himself. Oh, yes. That felt good.

He suddenly stopped, feeling the fluffiness that touched his nose moving slightly. Why was it moving? He forced himself to open his eyes and saw that the fluffiness was, in fact, hair, white-blond hair to be exact, and everything came back to him.

Draco was in his bed. His dick throbbed painfully, and he moaned, grinning like a fool. He moved his hand slowly and touched the hair splayed on the pillow in front of him.

After staring at Draco for a few moments, watching his angel of doom sleeping like, well, an angel, Harry's mind began to build up various scenarios picturing the subject of his obsession as the main character.

'Oh, no! Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter! You're not doing that,' Harry told himself, but he couldn't stop his hand and, gently, removed the cover from Draco's sleeping form. And there it was. As Draco was lying on his back, his morning wood was proudly rising under the silk pyjamas.

Harry bit his lower lip and he almost jumped out of the bed and went to the bathroom to take care of his growing problem. He couldn't remember being so hard in his life. But his curiosity got the best of him. He had to peek under Draco's pyjama bottoms. Simply, he had to, or he would never forgive himself for losing what might, as well, be the one and only opportunity to see IT. Erm... to see if Draco was a natural white-blond, that is, nothing else. Right! Nothing else. Who was he kidding?

The lower buttons of the pyjama top were open, and he could see Draco's fit abdomen. The thin trail of silky looking white-blond hair that started under his bellybutton and got lost under the waistband of the pyjama bottoms should have been enough, but all it did was making Harry's mouth water and arousing his curiosity even more.

Slowly, he managed to lift the waistband, little by little until he exposed what was underneath the silk. Harry couldn't help licking his lips. Oh! Draco was gorgeous. The flawless skin was almost hairless. Almost. Except the thin trail and an oh so soft looking patch of white-blond hair nesting his beautiful cock, everywhere else he had something more like fluff barely noticeable in a certain light and from a certain angle. Definitely, a natural white-blond.

'He's perfect,' the raven-haired man, though. 'So much better than I ever imagined, than I ever dreamt! And he's... bigger than I am? Well, maybe not thicker, but certainly longer. Not by much, but he is. Wow. Is that normal? I'm taller than he is.' The urge to touch Draco, to smell him, to taste him, was so overwhelming, that Harry couldn't resist and leant over burying his nose in that patch of silky white-blond hair and kissing it. It was as soft as it looked, and it smelt and tasted so damn good that it made him dizzy with want and lust, and all his memories from so long ago came rushing into his mind, pushing his reasoning away.

So the next thing he found himself doing was licking the beautiful cock he had in front of him from root to top, swirling his tongue over the top, enveloping it, caressing it, taking it into his mouth as much as he could. He stiffened in horror when he heard Draco's voice.

"How much are you charging for that, Potter?"

Harry blushed crimson and tried to take the blond's member out of his mouth as gracefully as possible. "How long have you been awake?" he asked shyly.

"Long enough," Draco sneered, looking at Harry wickedly. "Don't stop on my account. You did a fine job until now."

"Oh," Harry said and blushed even more. "I... Erm... Really?"

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow. "Yes, really."

Harry's eyes measured his quivering member. "You're beautiful, but you already knew that, didn't you?"

"I've been told that a few times."

Harry's breath hiked when Draco's dick throbbed again, and he searched the blond's eyes with a lustful, pleading gaze.

"Be my guest," Draco invited the other man as he settled more comfortably. He couldn't stop himself from moaning when Harry engulfed the head of his cock, again. Oh, yes! That green-eyed man had a talented tongue. Besides, nobody had given him a blowjob for quite some time, and it felt so good.

His right hand's fingers entwined in Harry's black locks, which, surprisingly, were much softer than he thought, whilst his left hand's fingers entangled in his own bangs. As the jet-black-haired young man began to lick his slit and suckle more firmly, his hips thrust up, but two powerful hands managed to hold them still. And Harry was licking and sucking and moaning, taking him deeper and deeper in his mouth and making his back arch more and more with each moan. The vibration was maddening.

He felt his dick's head reaching Harry's gag point, and he groaned loudly, his fist tightening in Harry's hair. The bobbing movement drove him insane... Oh, how he'd missed that! And suddenly, Harry deep-throated him for just a second, and Draco cried in frustration. He wanted that. He needed more of that.

"Do that again." And for a blissful second it happened all over again, and then it was over yet again... "Fuck you, you teasing arse," Draco shrieked.

Harry began to laugh, taking Draco's swollen cock out of his mouth. "Maybe later. I'm very busy right now." And lowering his head, he took that beautiful, milky prick in his mouth again, not stopping until his nose reached that soft patch of hair at the base. It took all Draco's power of control to resist another few moments and give his sex partner a warning before he came. Oh, fuck! He didn't even remember when had been the last time he came that hard.

He was still shaking in the afterglow when he felt Harry settling between his legs, lying over him. Harry covered his mouth with his own. He took Draco's weak hands and put them over the blond-haired man's head, pinning them there, their fingers entwined. The blond's mouth opened obediently, letting Harry's tongue thoroughly explore and taste him. He didn't have the strength to move, yet. 'Sneaky little Potty. Wear out your enemy first and then do whatever you want with him. Intelligent plan,' Draco said to himself and chuckled softly as the other man began to kiss his neck and suck his earlobe.

It felt nice and his cock started to notice that. Until then, Harry proved to be good in bed. He could get used to that. He could get used to letting Harry buy him clothes and food and taking care of his mother. He could get used to Harry providing for them and not having his own money, and to letting Potter fuck him when, where and however he pleased because he owed Potter everything. He could get used to being a kept, little whore.

No! He couldn't get used to that. At least, if he were a whore on the streets, he could have his own money and be free to spend it the way he pleased. But being a kept whore, he had to ask his keeper for every little thing he would want to buy. That would be slavery. No, he couldn't get used to that. He needed his freedom, his financial independence. He had to persuade Harry to help him get a job.

So deep in thought, Draco didn't feel what Harry was doing to him, and he was startled when he felt a slick finger penetrating his arsehole. Harry was too concentrated on sucking on Draco's collarbone to realise that his sex partner wasn't aroused any more.

The blond tried to enjoy the way the black-haired young man made him feel, and to lose himself in the emotions, but his mind didn't let him. He felt tears filling his eyes, and he tried to fight them, but to no avail. He covered his eyes with his arm. Oh, he wished so much that everything were like a few months before, that his father wasn't in jail and his mother wasn't in hospital, and he wasn't penniless.

He wished he were in Harry's bed because he wanted to be, not because he had no other choice. He wished he were there for pure pleasure, but the fact that Harry was the man with the money, and not having even the shirt on his back as his own, made it all business, and Draco hated every second of it. Even if Harry didn't tell him what he wanted, in his obliviousness he left enough clues to make the platinum-blond-haired young man know for sure what he would like the payback to be.

Draco gritted his teeth and covered his whole face when he felt Harry breaching him. Fuck! It hurt a lot even with the preparation, but it was his fault, not Harry's. He wasn't a regular bottom, but those few times when he did it were enough to understand why was so important to relax himself, and when he managed that, he really liked it. It wasn't the case in that moment, though. With all those thoughts in his head, relaxing was out of the question.

"Shit! You are so tight," Harry moaned. The moan became a groan as he pushed deeper and deeper into the elegant blond beneath him. He couldn't stop, and Draco couldn't muffle his cry of pain anymore. That made Harry freeze.

"Oh, my God. I'm hurting you!"

All Draco could do was pant with the effort he was making to fucking relax, or he wouldn't sit proper for a week. "No, I'm fine," he managed to say, but he didn't uncover his face. The grimace he was making and his teary eyes wouldn't fool Harry for one second.

"No, you're not. Your cock is soft," Harry finally noticed.

"I'm fine, Potter, just finish what you fucking started!" Draco ordered through gritted teeth.

Harry wanted to stop, he really did, but being inside the man of his wet dreams drove him mad with lust and desire. That smooth, milk-white skin, that totally fit frame quivering under him, that beautiful hair splayed all over the pillow. Oh, he was so hard for that exquisite man that he simply couldn't stop himself from going deeper and deeper into him.

"Oh, please relax. I don't want to hurt you. I would never forgive myself if I did."

"I'm... trying...Potter. Aah! Shit! You're bigger than I expected, and it's been a while."

"I'm really trying to be gentle, but you're so tight, and I'm so close."

Harry bent over and began to suck Draco's right nipple. 'That was a smart move,' thought Draco. His nipples had always been very sensitive. Oh, yes. Maybe he could relax after all. Maybe the nipple sucking would make his mind stop interfering with his body's desires for the next fifteen minutes. Ha! Who was he kidding? It would be over in less than five. But he began to relax as his dick became more and more interested in what Harry was doing.

The blond's long fingers grabbed Harry's mane, and his back arched from the bed. He felt the black-haired man smiling, satisfied of Draco's reaction to his ministration.

"Move," Draco whispered, and to his surprise, Harry stopped the nipple sucking and reached for his mouth, taking his hands and pinning them over his head again.

Harry started moving, slowly at first. It didn't last long, though and his movements became more and more erratic as his orgasm approached. After a few more thrusts, he came hard and collapsed exhausted on top of Draco, with his face buried in that white-blond, good-smelling hair.

The blond managed to roll him over and got quickly up from the bed heading for the bathroom. As he turned the shower on, he stepped under the warm water, letting it run down his body hoping it would take away his feeling of being used.

He didn't really understand why he was feeling that way. It had been his idea, in the first place, to make a deal with Harry. It had been the best choice he had at the moment. His ex-nemesis seemed to be infatuated with him, even if he never admitted that, and maybe he would never admit it. Not that Draco would ever admit he thought the raven-haired man was good in bed or that he gave good head. Well… he could tell Harry that, at least, maybe it would make that fit sex partner of his consider giving him more.

Draco smiled, remembering how his lover had wakened him that day. Yes, that had felt wonderful. But he had to convince Harry to help him become financially independent if he wanted to really enjoy the feelings their encounters gave him. Otherwise, he would feel trapped each time his ex-schoolmate would so much as look at him.

And maybe, just maybe he could manipulate the black-haired young man a little. Harry was a solicitor, and he had access, or knew people who had access to his father's files, so he would find a way to get him out of jail and rehabilitate his name. If all this was the doing of a powerful person, it was a dangerous thing to do, but he needed to do something, he needed to know what happened, and he missed his father.

As he stayed in the shower, putting order in his thoughts, the pain in his arse subsided little by little. For a day or so, sitting would be awkward, but he'd be fine.

Strangely, manipulating Harry through sex didn't seem like such a good idea after all. He wished the green-eyed young man would offer to help him on his own, but for that, he had to tell him everything, all his suspicions, all he knew about his father and his associates, friends and acquaintances, and Draco was rather reluctant about revealing everything. But he would worry about that when the time came. At the moment, his mother's health was his first priority.

Draco got out of the shower, determined to go to the hospital and talk again with the doctor. As he dried his hair, he realised something disturbing. He had nothing to wear. Harry said he'd lend him some clothes, didn't he? He wrapped the towel around the lower part of his body and went to the bedroom. The other man was asleep, smiling as if he was dreaming something wonderful.

"Harry," Draco called in a low voice bending over the black-haired man's body and shaking him slightly. "Harry, wake up!"

"Mm!" he murmured sleepily, opening one eye and looking at the angel above him. His arms intertwined behind Draco's neck and pulled the blond over him. "No!"

Draco fell with a thud. "Har… Harry, let me go," he barely managed to say.

"No. You smell too good. Go to sleep."

"Harry, I need to go to the hospital to check on my mother. Let me go!"

"No. Go to sleep. We'll go later."

Struggling, Draco finally released himself from Harry's embrace, and the sleepy man rolled over and buried his face in the pillow the blond had slept on.

"Damn it, Potter. Wake up! I need clothes, and I'm leaving for the hospital now, not later!"

At Harry's lack of response, Draco rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I'll help myself from your dressing room then. Let's see what Potter is wearing these days." And with that, Draco opened wide the doors of Harry's dressing room.

Harry was slightly taller than he was. Not by much, just an inch or so, but his shoulders were broader, his body more of the athletic-muscular type, in comparison to Draco's which was more of the slender-athletic type. But even if the clothes were a little larger than necessary, he looked a million times better than he did when he was dressed in his second-hand clothes.

"Nice!" Draco smiled at his reflection in the mirror and left Harry's flat in a cheerful mood.

As he walked past the caretaker, the blond remembered something and returned.

"Do you have a piece of paper and something to write with?"

"Sure," the caretaker answered, looking at him with wide eyes.

After scribbling for a few seconds, Draco addressed the caretaker, again, "If Mr. Potter asks about me, give him this." He turned and after two steps stopped. "Please," the white-blond-haired man added and this time left the building and called a cab.

~:~:~:~:~

"Why in the world is there so much light this early in the morning?" mumbled Harry, covering his eyes and trying to wake up. He had such a wonderful dream, and he still felt the scent of… But he was cold, and that woke him up. Draco. It wasn't a dream. It had really happened. But where was Draco?

Harry rose from the bed and went to the bathroom. The blond wasn't there either. "Oh, no!" He washed quickly and came back to his room, going straight to his dressing room.

"What the fuck?" Almost everything in there was upside down, and, yes, some of his clothes were missing. The black-haired man moaned in discontent. He dressed and reached for his wallet and car keys, leaving his flat in a rush.

As he ran to the front door of the building, he heard the caretaker calling him.

"Mr. Potter!"

"Yes. Sorry, but I'm in a hurry. What is it?"

The caretaker gave him a piece of paper, smiling knowingly. "The fashion model left this for you. Beautiful man, even if a little too arrogant for my tastes."

"Fashion model?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Yes. About your height, white-blond-haired, very stylish. I don't remember him getting in, but he definitely caught my eye when he left. Who is he?"

"He's the pauper from the night shelter I brought last night..." said Harry while he unfolded the paper in his hand. 'Potter,' he read, 'I tried to wake you up this morning before I left for the hospital to talk with the doctor who takes care of my mother. As you didn't, I helped myself with some clothes from your dressing room and a hundred pounds from your wallet for expenses. See you later. D.' "...cleaned, shaved and dressed in my best clothes," Harry finished the sentence, taking out his wallet and counting his money.

"Wow. He's gorgeous."

"Yes. He is, isn't he? If he comes back and I'm not here, please let him into my flat and tell him to wait for me. I'm leaving for the hospital to check on his mother. I might find him there. See you!"

Before he entered his car, his mobile phone rang.

"Mmh. Hermione." Harry rolled his eyes and answered. "Hello, Hermione! How are you?"

"Harry, what's wrong with you? I've called at least ten times since last night, and you didn't have even the courtesy to call back. I wanted to come over, but I have a guest. You wouldn't believe who it is. Sarah, Harry. Sarah came to me last night, and she is still here. What have you done to her? She's a wreck."

"I haven't..."

"Don't start with me. She said that you two had a date last night, and, instead of spending time with her, you went in the back rooms following some bloke or something, and after that, even if you were physically present, your mind was miles away. Where were you?"

"Did she, by any chance, see who he was?"

"Does it matter? Harry, you went there for her, and you practically stood her up!" Hermione yelled at him. "And I'm not asking you again if you told her, because I know you didn't."

"I couldn't. But I promise I'll tell her as soon as possible. Now, I've got to go. I'm in a hurry, actually. Talk to you soon. Bye!"

"Harry! Wait! Har—" Harry ended the call and started his car, leaving for the hospital.

When he rushed through the doors of the facility, he practically bumped into the young man who was getting out. As he apologised and moved away, he heard a familiar voice.

"Watch where you're going, Potter!"

Harry spun around. "Wow. Hi! You look..."

"Gorgeous. I know." Draco sneered at him.

"Of course you do, you modest prick," Harry mumbled, rolling his eyes. "How is your mother?"

"The doctor told me that she's responding well to the treatment, and her temperature subsided," Draco said, walking out of the hospital with Harry in his wake. "She is still under sedation, but they are very optimistic about her recovery."

"Which is a good sign. Your mood has improved, too, I see. So, we can go shopping. Any particular shop you want to visit?"

"Yes," the blond said smiling. "Armani, Prada, Nicole Farhi, Ralph Lauren—"

"Erm...I don't think I can afford…"

"I'm kidding, Potter. I'm penniless. Do you think I'm in a position to make demands? I take whatever you offer, even if I'd prefer new clothes not second-hand, but anything would be okay as long as they're not rags or dirty. So, it's your choice," Draco pointed out, looking expectantly at the raven-haired young man.

"Really?"

"Yes. You are the man with the money. What would you like to see me dressed in?" As soon as he asked the question Draco's stomach began to churn. He felt like a little, kept whore, again, and the good mood that his mother's health improvement gave him, was definitely lost.

The shopping session went smoothly, but at the end of it, Harry was astonished. He expected Draco to go for the expensive, eccentric stuff, to buy loads and loads of impractical things that he liked, but would never use, complain about the quality, and bicker with the shop assistant until he got what he wanted.

Instead, the grey-eyed young man went for the bare necessities, and everything he bought shocked Harry with its usefulness. No extravagant stuff, no unnecessarily luxurious undergarments or accessories. Every little thing he bought was very thoroughly weighed, and priced. He was amazed how Draco could calculate every single thing in that way so the price/quality/utility ratio would always be in his advantage.

As they sat at a table in Harry's favourite restaurant for a very late lunch, the jet-black-haired man couldn't help himself not to comment about that. "You know, when I offered to take you shopping, I was more than reluctant."

"You thought I'd spend all your money, didn't you?" Draco asked a little annoyed.

"Honestly, yes! But you're simply amazing. How do you do it?"

"When you don't have money you learn very quickly to appreciate its value, and to be practical about everything you buy. Especially when you have to borrow money."

"I guess you're right," the green-eyed man murmured.

"Look, Potter. We really have to talk about the payback. The clues you've given me so far made it pretty obvious what you would like, but considering that I also want to ask for your help in another matter which is very important to me, I need to know where I stand."

"Clues?" Harry asked, with wide eyes, not understanding what the blond was talking about.

"Yes, Potter, clues. No undergarments with the pyjamas, changing your mind about me sleeping on the couch, this morning's activities, and the way you're looking at me when you think I don't see you. Clues."

"And you came to the conclusion that fucking you will be the payback," Harry stated, blushing slightly.

"You didn't say otherwise. What was I supposed to think?"

Harry covered his face with his hands, resting his elbows on the table. "Shit. I always pictured you in my bed because you wanted to be there, no strings attached, enjoying it."

"I… was… enjoying it. You give good head." Draco smiled mischievously.

"Thanks… I guess. But I was talking about the part when I… erm…"

"Erm… about that. I don't usually bottom, Potter. Actually, with you was my third time, and the other two were so long ago, I hardly remember. Well… I do remember that when I manage to relax it feels quite good, and the fact that the other two blokes were not as big as you."

"And being bigger is a bad or a good thing?" Harry wanted to know, going crimson.

"If you want an honest answer to that question, you'll have to ask me again, when I'm in your bed with no strings attached. Right now, my financial status is a chain, and a very thick and heavy one, too."

Their conversation paused as the waiter brought them the food. They ate in silence, each of them deep in his own thoughts. After a while, Harry began to look quizzically at Draco.

"What?" The blond-haired man raised an elegant eyebrow, demanding an answer.

"Nothing. You said that you want my help in another matter, and I was wondering what it is."

Draco sighed, pushing his empty plate away. "I'd rather talk to you about that in a less public place."

"Okay. Let me pay the bill and we'll go home," Harry said, oblivious of the feelings the word triggered in Draco.

"Can you take me to the hospital?" Draco asked as they exited the restaurant. "I'd like to check on my mother, again."

"Okay."

They arrived at the hospital in a few minutes. After opening the car's door, Draco turned to Harry. "You don't have to wait for me. I have money for the cab."

"I'll take your purchases, and I'll make room for them in the dressing room."

Draco was confused. "What?"

"I said I'll empty some of the drawers in the dressing room for your clothes," Harry repeated.

Draco was looking at him with his mouth agape.

"Something wrong?" the black-haired young man quizzed.

"No… One question, though. Am I moving in?"

"I thought you already did. Or… have you somewhere else to stay?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"See?" Harry smiled whilst Draco rolled his eyes.

"Harry, please don't add any children to our happy little family while I'm away. Okay?" And the blond exited the car, slamming the door and leaving Harry staring astounded after him.

~:~:~:~:~

Hermione was fuming. "Where have you been? Shopping? You were in a hurry because you were going shopping? Why did you close your mobile phone? Do you have any idea how worried I've been, not knowing anything?" she yelled as Harry entered the front door of the building his flat was in. "The caretaker couldn't tell me anything because you left before his shift started. I've been waiting for you for over an hour," she continued ignoring Harry's attempt to answer her questions.

When she finally stopped ranting, he asked, "Are you alone?"

"Excuse me?" Hermione quizzed, taken aback.

"I asked you if you're alone or if there's someone else with you?"

"Sarah is here. She's in the back room. She was crying and the caretaker, I always forget his name, offered her a cup of tea."

"What about Ron?"

"What about him?"

"He's not here, is he?"

"No. I called him, but he said that he's still angry with you, and, even if he considers having a talk with you about your issues, it won't happen today."

"Oh, good," Harry said relieved, and smiled. He was safe for now.

"Good? Good? That's all you have to say?"

"Erm... pretty much!" Harry answered, and with his hands full of parcels, he made his way towards the staircase that led to his flat.

Hermione remained staring incredulously after him. "What? Harry, what's the matter with you? Harry!" She ran up the stairs and followed him into his flat, banging the front door shut behind her. "Why are you so content that Ron is not here? And what exactly was that important so you had to run off and buy, that you hung up on me this morning? Harry, I'm talking to you... Are you even listening to me?" She was in a total frenzy, and while Harry left the packages on his bed and went into the dressing room, beginning to rearrange some of the drawers to make room for Draco's clothes, she started tapping the floor with her foot, impatiently, her arms on her hips, waiting for an answer.

Harry ignored her for a few moments, but after a while, he stopped and turned to her smiling. "I had the best morning of my life followed by a marvellous day, and Ron's presence could ruin that."

"And this 'best morning of your life' was before, or after you left me hanging on the line?"

"Before."

"And it consisted of…"

"Getting laid," Harry purred lasciviously, beginning to unwrap the parcels and arrange the clothes in the newly emptied drawers.

Hermione's mind was working. "Getting laid never made you act like this. You got laid before, and you've never said you had the best time of your life… unless…" She stopped, realising something that baffled her.

"Oh, yes…" Harry purred, again.

"Do you really want me to believe that you fucked Malfoy this morning?"

Harry nodded, grinning widely.

"But that's… How?"

"He is the man Sarah told you I followed to the back rooms of the night shelter yesterday. I'm helping him. His mother is in hospital with pneumonia, and he's moving in. They have nowhere else to go, anyway."

"Wow. I never expected that. It's a good thing Ron didn't come. He would have had a fit. But, Harry, you're not really considering…"

"Look. Before you say anything else," Harry interrupted her, "I want you to know that I'm not changing my mind about what I'm doing. I want him here, I need him, and I know what I'm doing!"

Their conversation stopped when they heard the doorbell ringing.

"I'll go answer the door," the raven-haired young man began, trying to escape.

"It might be Sarah," Hermione assumed.

"In that case, you go answer the door," Harry ordered, returning in his dressing room.

"Harry, you're… I can't believe it." Hermione huffed and went to answer the door. After a while, she came back in Harry's bedroom, bringing Sarah with her.

"Harry, Sarah is here."

"Hi, Harry," Sarah whispered.

"Hi," he answered, coming near them. "Look, I'm sorry I behaved the way I did last night, but I…" He stopped, talking a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. "I'm sorry I made you believe that there could be more between us. When Ron introduced us, all I had in mind was that it would be nice to be friends. I never intended to go farther than that, and I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I would like more from our relationship."

"I'm not attractive enough? You don't like me?" Sarah began to sniff with tears in her eyes.

"I suppose you are attractive, and I like you, but not like that. You're intelligent; you have a great sense of humour–"

"You suppose I'm attractive?" Sarah interrupted him. "What do you mean, you suppose?"

"I mean that you are pretty, and for a straight bloke, you could be attractive," the black-haired young man explained, ignoring Sarah's opened mouth. "The fact that I don't find you attractive is not your fault. I don't find any woman attractive. I'm gay, so..."

"Oh! That explains a lot of things," Sarah noted, somewhat calmer, wiping her tears and attempting a small smile. "I'm glad I'm not the problem. What I don't understand is why had Ron introduced us?" Sarah looked at Harry purposefully. "He doesn't know, does he?"

"No, he doesn't. And I'm afraid he's liable to kill me if he finds out. Or at least beat me to a pulp and never want to see me again." Harry sighed. He missed his best friend, but he realised he couldn't have Draco as a lover if he wanted a good relationship with Ron. The two couldn't stand each other.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to tell Ron the real reason why we broke up. I'd better go now." Sarah exited the room trying to master her tears.

"I'll come with you," Hermione said, following her. "Take care, Harry. Bye!"

Harry remained there staring after them. He was sorry for Sarah, he didn't like to hurt people, but he couldn't continue his relationship with her. Not when Draco was moving in. A wide smile flourished on Harry's lips as he entered his dressing room to finish the arrangements. Draco was moving in! Yes!

~:~:~:~

When the doorbell rang again, the black-haired man was in the kitchen trying to fix something light to eat for him and Draco.

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes," Harry said after he opened the door to let the blond in. "Nothing fancy. Just sandwiches."

"Yes, dear," Draco chanted, taking off his coat. He followed the other man into the kitchen and sat at the table.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked puzzled.

"No, dear," Draco answered, watching him and trying not to smile.

Harry looked at him with narrowed eyes and shook his head in confusion. After a few moments he inquired, "Did you see your mother? How is she?"

"The nurse said she's better than this morning, but I can't see her, yet. She's not contagious per se, but considering that I was deprived of food and sleep, my body is weak, too, and I can get ill. So, it's recommended to stay away from her, for the time being, if I want to help her later." Harry tried to say something, but the other man continued, "And, yes, you were right when you said that guarding her ward's door won't make her heal faster. I have to look after myself, sleep and eat enough to strengthen my body and keep the illnesses away."

As he finished talking, Harry put a plate with two sandwiches in front of him.

"Thank you, dear." Draco smiled.

The raven-black man rolled his eyes. "Okay. After we eat, we can go in the sitting room and watch some telly," Harry started.

"Yes, dear."

"Or have a drink," he continued.

"Sure, dear."

"And talk about what you wanted to tell me at the restaurant."

"Whatever you like, dear."

"Will you stop that, already? You're annoying!" Harry finally burst.

"I'm annoying?" Draco asked with an incredulous look on his face. "I'm annoying? Harry, since we've met, or more exactly, since you've begun to pay for my expenses, you've been organising my life. You're taking almost all the decisions, and you don't even bother to ask if I agree or not. It feels like I'm married or something. I know that it's nice to have a family, to take care of somebody and be taken care of, but… Don't you think you're moving a little too fast?" Harry sat dazzled on the other chair at the table as Draco continued, "Yesterday we were insulting each other, or at least I was insulting you, and we thought we hated one another. And now we're playing house? I'm really feeling trapped by my debts to you. Don't put more chains on me. I might be crushed under the weight. I thought you understand my need for freedom. I guess you don't."

Harry lowered his eyes, fighting the tears he felt under his eyelids. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise I was doing that."

"I figured that. That's why we're having this conversation," Draco explained resolutely.

"So, you're not mad?" Harry asked shyly.

"Annoyed? Yes. The urge I had in school to smash your face is definitely back. But mad? No."

"Okay." The black-haired young man grinned widely and continued, "Why don't we take our sandwiches in the living room, and you may smash my face there whilst you're telling me about what you wanted to ask my help for?"

"Works for me." Draco took his plate and followed Harry into the living room.

They sat comfortably on the couch, and Harry started eating his sandwiches while the blond tried to make order in his thoughts. It wasn't easy for him to ask for the other man's help over and over again, but he needed to talk with his father, or at least to send him a message, and Harry was the only one he could turn to. After a while, Draco sighed and began talking, looking into Harry's eyes.

"Since the authorities had confiscated everything we owned, I've been thinking about what had happened that day, and it all seems so farfetched. It doesn't make sense. Well… as much as I know. Everything seems like when you take pieces from different puzzles and put them together. They don't fit. But, of course, I don't know very many things. Some, because I didn't care about them, and some, because my father didn't tell me about them. I really want to find out why this happened." Draco rose from the couch and brought a bottle of water and two glasses from the kitchen.

"You are a solicitor," he continued, "so, you might find out what my father has been charged with. I don't even know that. Will there be a trial? When? How long will he stay in prison? All I know is that I'm not allowed to see him, and that because, when they took him, one of the officials yelled at me 'No visitors!' I'm sure that my father knows something. I still believe he is innocent, and he must have some idea who is behind this. And I miss him," Draco finished, whispering the last words.

Harry chewed, deep in thought for a few, long minutes, under Draco's scrutinising look.

"It won't be that difficult to find out what the charges are, and if there will be a trial. I have access to this information, and if it's something confidential, I know people who know people. We might even find out something right now," Harry said and rose, heading to the room across the hall from his bedroom. When he came back in the living room, he was carrying a laptop.

"Okay, let's see." He opened the laptop and after about fifteen minutes of searches and introducing security codes, he found the information he wanted, or most of it. "Fuck, the charges are confidential, and my password doesn't work. I don't have the required clearance. On the other hand, there will be a trial, but there is no date. That's strange."

"What?" Draco asked, curious to know more. He wasn't very pleased with the charges' confidentiality.

"Your father doesn't have a solicitor to represent him."

"Of course he has. The family's solicitor."

"Then why does it say here that one will be automatically assigned?"

"Hm," Draco frowned, trying to read the passage the jet-black-haired young man pointed out.

"What's even more curious," Harry continued, "is the fact that all the solicitors that were appointed to the case, turned down the offer. So your father has no solicitor right now."

"Really?"

To see better the laptop's screen, Draco leant over, but the angle wasn't good enough, so he climbed onto the couch, settling himself on his knees behind Harry and resting his chin on the other man's shoulder.

Harry gulped, feeling uncomfortable. He liked Draco's warm body touching his back, but it aroused him so much.

"So, that means they will not set a date for the trial as long as nobody wants to represent my father?"

"It seems like it," Harry whispered the answer.

"That's not good…" the blond-haired man noted, but his mind worked fast. "On the other hand, it might not be that bad. I have an idea how I can visit him in prison. I will pretend I'm a solicitor, and I want to take his case."

"Yep, right," Harry laughed.

"What? I have the right to visit my client, and they can't forbid it," Draco continued his idea, trying to convince the black-haired man.

"They will ask you for your practice license. Besides, you look so much like your father that you can't fool anyone. They will throw you out after the first two seconds if you're lucky."

"I'll wear a wig or something. And what do you mean if I'm lucky?"

"They might throw you in jail for lying and impersonating an official."

"Oh! Yes, that's true." Draco sighed, disappointed.

"I'll do it," Harry offered.

"No, I can't accept that. You are already helping me enough. I'll find a way."

"Letting me do it is the best way, and you know it." 'Why am I always offering myself to help him anyway?' Harry asked himself.

"I'll be very grateful, you know," the blond purred near the green-eyed young man's ear, caressing the spot behind it with his nose and making Harry shiver with pleasure.

'That's why,' Harry mused and closed his eyes relaxing in the warmth that Draco's body gave him.

'That was easier than I expected,' Draco thought, planting a kiss on Harry's neck. 'I'm good!' "So, Mr. Solicitor with a practice license," he continued aloud, "when are you going to pay my father a visit?"

"Tomorrow, I will begin the procedure of becoming his solicitor, I guess," Harry answered like in a trance. Draco's hands were already touching his inner thighs, and the fact that they were moving up so close to his groin didn't help him think clearly by any means.

"Do you think they will let you record your conversation?"

"I always record my conversations with my clients. Besides, if I don't record it, their security system does, and I have the right to ask for the surveillance tape, so I'll get it anyway," Harry said and stopped thinking altogether when Draco began to suck on his earlobe.

"Where are the condoms and the lube?" Draco whispered in his ear.

"Left nightstand, second drawer," Harry mumbled as Draco's hand made its way into his trousers.

"Let's take off these offensive clothes," Draco purred, unbuckling Harry's belt with his other hand.

The black-haired man slowly rose from the couch, reluctantly pushing Draco's hands aside and pulled his trousers down together with his pants. As he was taking off his shirt, he felt Draco caressing his buttocks. Harry turned and sat on the little, low table in front of the couch to finish undressing.

"Nice butt. I can hardly wait to see how tight it is."

"What?" Harry asked startled.

"Your turn to bottom, Potter," Draco answered, grinning widely.

"Erm... I don't bottom."

"Right!" Draco sneered. "Tonight you do. Everything has a start, Potter." And with catlike moves, Draco leant forward and marked a line with his tongue on Harry's throbbing cock from base to top.

Harry muffled his moan of pleasure. He'd dreamt of this for so long. "Why are you still dressed?" he mumbled.

Draco stood up, beginning to take off his own clothes. "I'm going to take a short shower. Care to join?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

When they got in the shower, under the warm spray of water, Harry attempted to embrace Draco from behind, but to his surprise, he was forcefully spun around, having his face pressed on the shower's glass wall.

"Don't even think about it. Stay there!" Draco ordered.

"You weren't kidding when you said earlier that you wanted to smash my face, were you?"

"No, I wasn't. But I might change my mind if for the next fifteen minutes you'll be an obedient little lad and do as I say."

"I'm not bottoming."

"Oh, yes, you are. And, by the time I'm finished with you, you'll be begging me to fuck you," Draco purred.

"No, I won't."

"Want to bet?"

'Don't accept the bet,' Harry's mind kept telling him over and over again, but his lips said, "On hat?"

"If you win, I'll never ask you to bottom again."

"And if I lose?" Harry whispered. He didn't want to know the answer to that question, but Draco gave it to him anyway.

"If you lose, you'll have to bottom as much as I will."

"I don't have to be the only one who bottoms?"

"No."

"Fine," Harry said grumpily.

"Good. Then, stand still."

Draco washed both of them thoroughly, and after a while, they entered the bedroom in a rather different mood. The grey-eyed man was grinning widely as he went to the bed and put both pillows in the middle of it, one over the other. Harry, on the other hand, was reluctant and rather sulky as he watched the preparations.

"Get up on the bed and lie on your belly with your hips on the pillows."

As Harry took his position, the blond opened the second drawer of the left nightstand and took out the lube and a condom.

"You're that confident that you'll use those tonight?" Harry quizzed, a little uncomfortable about the position he had to stay in. He felt so exposed, and the fact that Draco settled between his legs, spreading them farther apart, wasn't helping.

Suddenly, he felt a warmth all over his back and Draco's breath on his neck. It felt so good, but at the same time awkward. It was the first time he had permitted another man to lie atop him, and a strange mixture of lust and fear filled his heart, making his dick get hard.

Draco began to kiss his neck and suck on his earlobe. Harry started to relax, getting more and more aroused as his sex partner was planting small kisses and tongue trails down his spine.

When the white-blond-haired young man reached the middle of his back, Harry's skin was all goose bumps, and he couldn't help his moan any longer. What Draco was doing to him was maddening, especially when the other man reached his waist. Oh, those lips, that tongue. Nobody ever did something like that to him. Harry marvelled at how relaxed he was and how he expected each kiss, each lick.

And then, Draco kissed his sacral bone, and Harry groaned in pleasure, wishing for another kiss anywhere on his back and hoping that it would be lower than the previous one. It would be a million times better if it would be lower. His buttocks were sensitive and ticklish, and he felt every single touch straight in the tip of his dick.

But nothing compared with the feeling the other man gave him when that talented tongue left a wet trail, licking Harry's crack from his balls all the way up to his sacral bone. Oh, it was glorious, and his eyes crossed. If he thought that was as good as it got, he couldn't be more wrong.

The black-haired young man shouted in pleasure when the tip of Draco's tongue swirled around his arse hole. He began to mumble something incoherent, and as his lover continued his ministration, licking the muscle circle, which became more and more loose, Harry felt his hips thrust up from the pillows trying to follow the blond's tongue as it retreated.

When Draco penetrated the circle of muscles with his tongue, rolling it around, Harry felt like his brain melted. No, he never felt something as good as that before, and he wanted it to last forever. For a while, Draco obliged and Harry's hips moved in the rhythm in which Draco was thrusting his tongue in and out of the green-eyed man's arse hole. It could have driven him insane. Harry grabbed his own hair and began to pull and to scream Draco's name. Surprisingly, the blond's brilliant tongue wasn't enough anymore.

He wanted more, much more. He wanted something thicker, something longer, and without knowing, between moans, groans and screams, he began to plead. "More, please, more. Deeper, go deeper." But Draco's tongue wasn't as long as Harry wanted, and he cried again, "Deeper, harder, please." After another frustrated shriek, the black-haired young man finally begged, "More, please! Please, please fuck me, Draco. Please fuck me!"

In a moment, he felt a slick finger breaching him and immediately another. He felt a little more stretched, but being already loose, it felt good, and Harry continued to ride the fingers the way he rode Draco's tongue. He almost fainted when his sex partner brushed his prostate with his fingers. It was so intense, and the addition of the third finger made it even more so.

In the moment the blond penetrated him, Harry screamed, but instead of moving away he thrust upwards, impaling himself more into Draco's cock, his prostate being brushed, even unintentionally, in the process. That made the raven-haired man plead again, "More, please do that again." He wanted to thrust up again, but a firm hand kept him in place.

"Stop for a second and try to control yourself. You're very tight and I might hurt you if you continue to thrust like that. Relax." And Harry did, even if he was mumbling some jumbled nonsense in the meantime.

As he felt his lover relax, Draco entered deeper and deeper into the body beneath him until he was fully seated. He stopped for a while, resting his forehead on Harry's trembling back.

"Move," Harry demanded and thrust upwards again.

Draco began to move, reluctantly at first as his arms shook from the effort. Slowly, he moved out of Harry and thrust back in again.

"More," Harry moaned.

Draco smiled wickedly for a second and began to thrust more firmly into the body under him. He loved the way Harry groaned. After a few moments, he found the right angle and rhythm to make the black-haired man even needier, hitting his prostate with almost every thrust.

Whilst Harry was begging for harder, faster, deeper, Draco stopped to lift his partner's hips from the pillows and take them out from beneath him.

Harry wanted to ask about what was happening, but the question never left his lips as articulate speech as Draco's hand wrapped around the tip of his cock, making his eyes roll. His incoherent rambling continued as the blond stroked him and pumped into him in the same time. His forehead fell on the bed. It was too much. His orgasm was building up, and he had no force left to fight it. He came hard, shouting his lover's name and squeezing him.

Draco, feeling that tight channel he was buried in becoming even tighter, arched his beautiful body, groaned aloud and came forcefully. He collapsed over the quivering body underneath him, shaking exhausted in the afterglow.

Before falling asleep, Draco only had energy to say, "I won." He heard Harry's answer like in a dream.

"Yes, and you were amazing," Harry whispered, and before sleep came over him moments later, he thought, 'This is bliss.'

~:~:~:~

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Harry cried from the bedroom's doorframe, holding a big tray in his hands.

Draco lazily opened one eye. "Mmm… room service. Do I have to pay for it?"

"Well, you won the bet, so I think it is your turn to…"

"When I said that you'll have to bottom as much as I do, I didn't mean that we'll have to do it every two hours. Besides, my arse is still sore from yesterday morning, so I'll pass. And there are other ways of having sex anyway." Turning on his back, closing his eyes and crossing his arms behind his head, Draco continued, "Like oral sex. Feel free to blow me any time you like."

"You are such a manipulative prick," Harry said, entering the room and approaching the bed.

"Oh, you have no idea," Draco mumbled with a wide grin on his face.

As he put the tray on the bed, the black-haired young man questioned, "Did you say something?"

"No! Nothing." Draco opened his eyes, checking the food on the tray.

"It's almost noon, and I think you're hungry, too. Later, I'm having a meeting. This morning, I contacted a friend of mine, of sorts, and he said he has the forms I have to fill in, in order to take your father's case and to represent him in court."

"And this 'friend' of yours works on a Sunday?" Draco asked, confused.

"No. But today he is on duty at the emergency department. And that department works twenty-four/seven."

"So, tomorrow you might be allowed to see my father?"

"I have no idea what the procedure is, and when I'll be able to see him."

"And your friend wanted to help you, no questions asked. He didn't freak out when you told him who you want to represent?" Draco looked incredulously at Harry.

"I… kind of… decided to leave that little detail out..."

"Of course you did… Okay, then. As you pointed out, I look too much like my father, so I would mess things up if I go with you. Why don't you drop me at the hospital on your way to your meeting?"

In front of the hospital, Harry stopped Draco from getting out of the car. "You know, after you finish here you don't have to wait for me to pick you up. You can go home. I asked the caretaker to make you a key, and, even if the key isn't ready, he has instructions to let you in when I'm not there."

"Thanks, but I think I'll wait." Draco smiled and exited the car.

~:~:~:~

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy. Your mother is awake. You are allowed to see her, and please, make sure she eats something. Okay?" a nurse told him as he entered the hospital and passed by the reception.

"Okay!" That was the best news in days. He entered his mother's ward and walked slowly towards the bed. "Mum? Are you awake? How are you feeling?" he asked, concerned.

"Oh, Draco. I'm much better, but how did I get here, and how are you? Where are you staying? Erm… What are you wearing? Who's paying for the hospital?" His mother frowned. "Where is the money coming from? What have you done? Answer me, Draco!"

"Mum, Mum. Don't get into a frenzy. You're weak. Don't wear yourself out. It's okay. I'm fine. You have nothing to worry about. All you have to do is take care of yourself, rest, eat, get healthy and get your strength back," Draco tried to calm her down.

"Draco! Stop being elusive and answer my question. How did you get the money?"

"Well… I… erm… kind of…"

"Did you find a job? I suppose you didn't, because if you did, you wouldn't be so reluctant to tell me about that."

"It's a kind of a loan," Draco offered.

"A loan must be paid back with interest. When is it due? How are you going to pay it back?"

"Mum, will you please stop questioning me? I know what I'm doing. The loan is unlimited on an indeterminate period of time. And I'm already paying it back."

"How?" his mother insisted. "Are you sleeping with the person who lent you the money? Oh, Draco," she murmured, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. "I've never wanted something like that to happen to you. Please, tell me you didn't become a…"

"No! Well, you might call it something like that, but… No!"

"I'm confused," Narcissa said, watching him with a perplexed look.

"I… asked Harry Potter for help. I made a kind of bargain with him. He pays my expenses, and I'll pay him back any way he sees appropriate."

"But you two hated each other."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"So, he's paying you to sleep with him?"

"Not exactly. He didn't ask for payback, yet, and he didn't tell me what he wanted as payback either, but, at the moment, we're playing house."

"You're what?

"We're living together. I'm… sleeping in his bed… He bought me clothes… I have my own drawers in his dressing room… I moved in."

"You… moved in?"

"Yes. And I'm so mad at him," Draco continued his rant, pacing up and down the room. "He always makes all the decisions. He never asks for my opinion. He didn't ask me if I wanted to be his boyfriend, but he decided that I should move in. He's so annoying at times–"

"Draco, darling. How are the children?"

"What?"

"You do realise you sound like a bickering housewife, don't you?"

"Oh… my… God!" Draco blushed, ashamed.

"And sit down. You're making me dizzy."

With a huff, Draco sat on the edge of the bed. "Sorry!"

Narcissa looked at him and sighed. "Why did you do that? For what did you humiliate yourself in this way? Is what you gained from this arrangement worth all the trouble you're going through?"

"What are you talking about?" The blond watched her, puzzled.

"I'm talking about selling yourself to Potter. You shouldn't have done that. Nothing is worth that much."

"And what was I supposed to do? Let you die? He's paying for your treatment. He helped me to bring you here. And he's a solicitor. He can help Father. Or at least try to help him."

"Did he say he would?" Narcissa asked hopefully.

"When he brought me to the hospital, he was on his way to a meeting with someone who will give him the forms he has to fill in, in order to take Father's case. As his solicitor, Harry can get access to all the evidence, and he can visit Father in jail whenever he wants."

"That would be good. At least, we will be able to send Lucius a message that we're fine, and he has nothing to worry about. And he can let us know what he needs, and how we can help him."

"Yes. It's tricky with all the surveillance, but we will find a way. Talking about surveillance: yesterday, when I went shopping with Harry, I had the strange feeling I was being watched."

His mother looked at him quizzically. "Draco, the scandal about our family has been on the front page for days. Of course everyone was watching you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, Mum. Not that kind of watching. It was like someone followed my every move, and didn't want me to notice it. Someone was spying on me. And it wasn't paparazzi. It was somebody trained to do that."

"Did you tell Harry?"

"No. Actually, it slipped my mind after I've tried to tell him once, and I just remembered now. Why would anyone do something like that?"

"Lucius's enemies would jump with joy to know that his son is a beggar."

"And they would gloat even more over the fact that the son he is so proud of, his precious son, is nothing more than a perfect little whore. Shit. Do you think they already did that?"

"I have no idea," his mother answered, deep in thought.

"Well… we'll find out soon enough. Harry will meet with Father in three or four days, and hopefully he will tell Father what really happened, and what our situation is."

"I hope that, too." Narcissa looked worriedly at her son. She hoped that Lucius would believe Harry, not the rumours.

~:~:~:~

After filling and signing all the required forms, Harry entered the jail's interrogation room. Besides two chairs and a table, the room had no other furniture. As soon as the door behind him closed, he sat on one of the chairs and took out his voice recorder and Lucius's file from his briefcase.

He had to be careful. Even if the authorities approved a confidential meeting between him and his client, he knew they would be watching and listening to them if Draco was right, and someone powerful was involved in his client's arrest.

The door behind him opened again and Harry heard one of the guards speaking.

"So, Malfoy, your son's arse finally bought you a solicitor. Unfortunately, he's young and rather good-looking. I really hoped for an old, wrinkled, slimy bloke, but knowing your precious son is into whoring is amusing enough, isn't it?"

Laughing like crazy, another voice continued the idea, "Who would've thought, after all that schooling, he'd become nothing but a little whore. Oh! If he gives me a blowjob, I might consider letting him visit you for five minutes. Or maybe more if his arse is as tight as the rumours say."

Harry could hardly stop himself from rising and smashing the guards' faces. His hands were curled into fists, and his nails dug deep into his palms.

The two guards sat Lucius down at the table in the chair opposite Harry and left, laughing, followed by the angry looks of the two men at the table.

After the door closed, the prisoner looked Harry over, and his frown got deeper. "Are you fucking my son?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," Harry answered, trying to smile, but failing. "My name is Harry Potter, and I will be your solicitor."

As he talked, he took some papers out of Lucius's file and quickly scribbled something on a blank one, putting it on top of the others. "Before we start, I'd like you to sign these forms." He pushed the papers and pen in front of Lucius.

"I'm not signing anything until you answer my question!" he spat, but his eyes still fell on the paper. His harsh look softened as he read, 'Be careful. They're listening.'

"The answer is yes." Harry tried to say that as casually as he could.

Lucius closed his eyes in disdain, but took the forms and signed them.

"Mr. Malfoy, I would like to inform you that I took your case just today," Harry stated, taking the papers, putting them back into the file and starting the voice recorder, "and I didn't have the time to read the file thoroughly. This meeting will be brief, and is mostly for paper signing and bringing you up to date on your case and your family's whereabouts and situation."

"What about my family? How are they?" Lucius asked, worry written all over his face.

"They are okay now. Well, Draco anyway. Mrs. Malfoy is in hospital, but she is out of danger and healing. You don't have to worry about them. If you want to send them a message, I'm recording the conversation, so you can—"

"How are they surviving? They've been evicted from the Manor, and they have no money," Lucius interrupted him.

"Well, I'm willing to help," Harry provided.

"You mean as long as my son spreads his legs for you, whoring himself whenever, however and wherever you want, you'll take care of them. Right?"

"Exactly. Food, clothes, shelter, paying their expenses." Harry was insulted by Lucius's question, but he had to keep his composure and play his role. How could he admit that he was the one who spread his legs for Draco the night before, when all his clients' enemies were listening to their conversation? So he continued as nonchalantly as he could, "Now, as I said before, if you want to send a message to them, feel free to do so."

Lucius put his arms on the table and sighed, gazing at the voice recorder. As long as he recorded the message, he never looked at Harry, not even once.

"I'm sorry, my son. I never expected it to come to this. I always wanted a rich and carefree life for you, but I failed as a father and as a husband. I regret every slap I have given you. I regret I didn't believe you, and I punished you for things you said you didn't do. Like when you were five, and you told me that you didn't break that expensive vase, or when you were ten, and you told me that it wasn't you who ruined the party, hiding the firecrackers in the cake. I regret I was so harsh and called you a liar and a cheat as I caught you hiding candy behind the gargoyle when one hour earlier you promised me you wouldn't. I should have been more understanding. But now, it's too late. I hope you and your mother, one day, will find it in your hearts to forgive me. I promise when I get out of here, if I get out, I will make amends. I love you both."

When he left the jail, Harry's heart was aching. He hadn't seen Malfoy Senior more than five times, but he always thought that Draco was a spoilt child, hence his behaviour. Had Lucius been so strict with little Draco as he had said? The black-haired man found that hard to believe.

When he arrived at the hospital, Draco was pacing impatiently through the entrance hall. "What took you so long?" he inquired, entering Harry's car. "You said you just had to fill some forms and sign some papers!"

"Well, I did much more than that. I talked to your father," Harry said smugly.

"Really? How is he? What did he say? Did you record the conversation? When can I hear the recording?" Draco asked, agitated.

"Wow. One question at a time. Let's go home, and I'll tell you on the way. How is your mother?"

"Much better. She's awake. Well... Now she is asleep again, but she's no longer under sedation. We had a talk, and she even ate something."

"That's really a good thing."

"Yes, I'm glad she's healing this fast. So, how is my father?"

Harry sighed. "Draco, I think that we've been followed."

"When? Now?" Draco shrieked, jumping in his seat and looking back to see if there was a car behind them.

"Not now! Yesterday, and I suppose most of the time. I heard a rumour when I was visiting your father in jail. The guards are very mean with your father, mocking him over that."

"What rumour?" the blond asked, even if he already had a vague idea what the rumour was about.

"That I'm helping your father because I fuck you. Actually, they said, and I quote 'Malfoy, your son's arse finally bought you a solicitor.' They also said other rude things, too, but I'll stop here," Harry finished, looking purposefully at the road in front of him.

"They aren't spying on you, Harry. They are spying on me. And I've suspected they would say something like this. My father had always gloated about his precious son's achievements. Starting the rumour, about me being a whore, made their day. My father's enemies can mock him now about this to no end."

They drove in silence the rest of the way, Draco sulking at the unfairness of it all, and Harry wondering if he did the right thing, telling the blond what happened. When they arrived at the flat, the caretaker approached Harry with an envelope in his hand.

"Mr. Potter, a man brought this and said I have to give it to you, personally."

"Thank you." Harry took the letter and opened it under Draco's quizzical look. After he scanned it, he crumbled it into his fist and headed to the staircase. Draco shrugged and followed him.

When they entered the hallway the blond-haired man's curiosity reached its peak, and he had to ask.

"What are you so angry about? What did the letter say?"

Instead of answering, Harry handed him the letter as he turned to open his flat's door. Draco entered in his wake, closed the door behind him, and after taking off his coat, he sat on the couch, unfolding the letter. What he read made his skin go paler than it already was, if that was even possible.

'Dear Mr. Potter,' the letter said. 'I'm writing you this, to let you know that your achievements considering the precious son of Lucius Malfoy were much appreciated. It pleased me greatly, so I've decided to overlook the fact that you recorded your conversation with your client. I'll even give the whore the chance to listen to the message his father sent him. One request, though. Next weekend, you will lend me the precious little whore. After that, I'm sure we can work out a mutual arrangement to bring us both benefits from renting his beautiful, tight arse to rich, classy clientele.
Best regards.

P.S. Don't miss the article from tomorrow's newspapers.' The letter wasn't signed.

"Who the fuck is this son of a bitch? Who the hell does he think he is?" Draco burst.

"I don't know, but I suspect he holds a position of great power."

Draco crumbled the letter in his fist and threw it in a corner, fighting the tears in his eyes. 'No, this is not happening. I will not become a whore just because that idiot wants me to,' he promised himself.

Harry came and sat beside him on the couch. He put his arm around Draco and the blond cuddled into his arms.

"I won't let him touch you. I won't let anyone else touch you but me. We will find a way to avoid that."

"Thank you," Draco whispered. It was cosy in the black-haired young man's arms, and he stayed there for a while. "May I listen to the conversation you had with my father, please?" he suddenly requested.

"Of course," Harry answered, and stretched his hand to reach the briefcase, as he didn't want to unglue himself from his lover. Since Draco had asked for his help, the existing feelings had grown fast, and seeing the other man in that state, so pale and teary, Harry couldn't help the attraction he felt for him.

They listened to the recording in each other's arms, but at the beginning of his father's message, Draco suddenly backed away, paying much attention to it, and becoming more confused by the minute.

"What the fuck?"

"What is it?" Harry inquired.

"Can you play the message again?"

'…but I failed as a father and as a husband. I regret every slap I have given you…'

"Stop," Draco ordered.

"What?" Harry asked confused.

"Something is wrong. Why is he saying that? It's crazy!"

"What do you mean?"

"He'd never slapped me in his life! Not even once!" They looked amazed at each other. "Okay, let's hear the rest of it," Draco said, regaining his calm.

'…I regret I didn't believe you, and I punished you for things you said you didn't do. Like when you were five, and you told me that you didn't break that expensive vase…'

"What vase?" Draco spat.

'…or when you were ten, and you told me that it wasn't you who ruined the party, hiding the firecrackers in the cake…'

"I don't remember any party that was ruined by firecrackers."

'…I regret I was so harsh and called you a liar and a cheat as I caught you hiding candy behind the gargoyle when one hour earlier you promised me you wouldn't…'

"I have never hidden candy behind anything. What is this nonsense?"

They listened to the rest of the message in silence.

"I don't understand what was the matter with him when you recorded this. He's never done any of the things he's talking about. Well… he did punish me, but not for things I've said I didn't do. He'd always believed me when I told him something."

Harry thought for a while and came up with an idea. "What if he's trying to tell you something? I mean, maybe the message is in code or something."

Draco considered that for a while. "Okay. Give me a sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen, and play it again."

"Let's see." And resolutely, Harry took the paper and the ballpoint pen into his own hands. "He said he slapped and punished you. But why does he remind you of those two events which happened so long ago?"

"I don't even remember what I did when I was ten, let alone when I was five."

"Okay. First event. Age five, break expensive vase. Second event. Age ten, ruined party, firecrackers, cake. Third event. Hiding candy behind a gargoyle. You have a statue of a gargoyle inside the house?"

"Because the gargoyle is such an uncommon motif in British architecture and art, right? Harry, the Manor was built in gothic style, centuries ago, so yes, we do."

"Oh! So, what do these things tell you? Anything that triggers your memory? What is he referring to?"

Draco studied the paper for a while, thinking hard. "I have no idea. I've told you, he'd never… Wait! There might be something, but it's…"

"It doesn't matter. Say it anyway."

"I've never broken a vase, but in the portraits' gallery, there is a painting picturing me at age five near a table with a vase on it. Wow, wait a minute. Near it, there is a painting of me at age ten at my birthday party, with a cake and firecrackers and everything. What's more important is that between them, there is a statue of a gargoyle."

"That's it," Harry cried out. "Hiding candy behind the gargoyle. Maybe there is something hidden behind the gargoyle that can help us. Something important like candy for a child."

"We've got to get inside the Manor and look behind the statue."

"Erm... We can't get in there. I suppose the Manor is guarded, and they might have changed the security codes, don't you think?"

Draco grinned wickedly at that. "There are a lot of secret passages in the Manor, and I know them all. And I'm certain the one ending in the forest isn't guarded. Besides, that particular one has a security system that doesn't appear on any blueprint, and it's totally independent of the rest of the house."

"And you know how to bypass it?"

"No, Harry. I don't need to bypass it. I put it in place, so, I know the passwords. You'll see. Let's go." Draco rose from the couch.

"Whoa, whoa! Hold on! We can't go like that. We need to make some preparations first, and we need to be very cautious. We're being watched, remember?"

Draco crashed back down on his seat, sighing. "I remember. How could I forget? The rumours you've heard when you visited my father will be all over the media tomorrow morning. Can you handle that?"

Harry looked puzzled at him. "What does that have to do with..." Draco raised an elegant eyebrow. "Oh..." Harry finally understood. "I'm the solicitor you've bought with... Shit! Don't say they will print my picture in all the newspapers!"

"They will print both our pictures, and the article will sound something like 'The Malfoy Whore Managed to Buy, With Sexual Services, a Solicitor for His Father' or something along those lines. Everybody will know that you're fucking me."

Harry moaned in discontent.

"Are you ashamed of being seen in my company, Harry?" Draco whispered sadly. "I didn't know I was such a—"

"No, it's not that," the black-haired man said hurriedly. "It's just that there are people I didn't want to know that I'm gay. Like Ron, for instance. He's such a homophobe, and he really doesn't like you. He will make our life more miserable than all the media put together."

"Yes, that weasel friend of yours always had something against me. But speaking of the media: It's strange that it didn't comment on anything about me in the past two days. I so hope all those reporters will leave me alone." Draco sighed and continued, "And still we're being followed? I don't get it!"

"Erm... I don't think we're being followed only by the press. I suppose it has something to do with the letter I received today, too. The media is occupied with the death of the Duke of Exeter."

"Oh! Yes, that's right." Draco finally began to eat his sandwiches.

They stayed in silence for a while. The situation wasn't good, but depending on what they would find at the Manor, it could improve drastically. That made Draco smile.

"You know," he suddenly said, "I remember that at the last formal dinner we had at the Manor, we talked a lot about the Duke of Exeter, and I was particularly intrigued by the story of his sister."

"His sister? I didn't know he had a sister," Harry commented, baffled.

"Yes, he had an elder sister. But because she eloped and married way beneath her social position, the family disinherited and disowned her. The rumours say that she married at sixteen. The deceased Duke was ten or twelve at the time. It had been easy for such an influential family to get a royal edict and have her erased from the public records. So, I suppose, the only remaining records about her might be the ones in the private registers of the Duke's family and her husband's family, if they have one. Not all families have a register."

"Does your family have a register?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes. I've never seen it, because it never interested me too much, but my father told me that we have one, and he also mentioned something about some annoying rules about what and how to write in it. Details. Anyway, it seems that the Duke was disappointed by the behaviour of his son, and in a second will, he left all his fortune and title to his grandson. At the same time, with both his parents dead, he brought his sister back into the family. That made his son and grandson hate him. To make things even more complicated, about twenty years ago, the Duke made a third will with a lot of clauses and codicils. The rumours say that he included his great-grandnephew in it, so now everyone is desperately looking for him."

"The great-grandson of his sister?"

"Yes."

"So the great-grandson of his ex-disowned sister might inherit the title and the fortune! Interesting. Confusing. Anyway, it's not our business. Let's concentrate on our problems."

"All I wanted to say was that if what I've told you reached the media, we're off the hook. Besides, in the letter you've received, they mentioned something about an article in tomorrow's newspapers. So they already have what they need. Meaning that nobody will watch us any longer." Draco smiled charmingly.

"Stop smiling like that or we'll never get to the Manor tonight," Harry admonished him through gritted teeth.

"Okay, I'm serious. We need some dark clothes, and I need something with a hood or a ski mask. My hair shimmers in the moon light."

Harry looked at him dreamily. "Wow, I have to see that."

"Not tonight, you don't. Harry, focus. We need backpacks or something, so we can carry what we find there."

"Do you think two backpacks will be enough?"

"I have no idea. Depending of what we find we might go back tomorrow."

"I hope we can take everything tonight. It's dangerous."

"I know, but I'm confident everything will be just fine."

Harry sighed, unconvinced. "Okay. Tell me something about how we'll get in."

"I can tell you about that in the car," Draco noted, rising from the couch and heading to the bedroom to change his clothes.

~:~:~:~

They drove in silence for a while. Draco looked surreal in the pale light. He had the ski mask on, and only his beautiful, grey eyes were visible. The moon was full, but luckily for them, it was obscured by the clouds.

"So, are you going to tell me about how we're going to get in?"

"Two years ago," Draco began, "I redesigned the Manor's security system. Actually, I tried to keep some of the secret passages 'secret' so to speak. So, I made two parts of the same security system that can work together and independent at the same time."

"Wait. You made the security system?"

"Yes. That's what I do for a living. I make security systems."

"I'm impressed. I always thought you were living on your father's money."

"Mostly, yes. Actually, he indulged me at the beginning, but after I finished the Manor's security system, he was ecstatic and proud, so he supported me."

Harry smiled, imagining Lucius bragging about his precious son's achievements, and he was certain that he would have done exactly the same thing.

"Returning to the Manor's security system, do you want to tell me that if you get through the underground passage, even if you deactivate the passage's security system, the alarm from the other one might go off?"

"If you don't know what you're doing it certainly will. You see, the secret passages are supposed to be a safe way for us to get out of the Manor or get into the Manor in times of need. So, the security system of the passages must keep out the strangers and let us move freely, even if the Manor's alarm is on. The passages' security system is the main one. So, I can deactivate the Manor's security system from the passages, even if someone changes the codes. I can control the Manor's security system from the passages any way I want, but I can't control the passages' security system from the Manor. Actually, you don't even see it from the Manor if you don't know what you are looking for."

"You lost me already. It's so complicated. I don't know why you needed such a complicated security system, but if you can get us in without them knowing, it's good that you made it like that. So can it?"

"Can it what?"

"Let us in without anybody knowing?"

"Yes, it can."

"Perfect. Okay, we're near the forest. I'll try to park the car somewhere off of the road."

"Drive for... another thirty seconds, and then turn right. And kill the lights," Draco suggested.

"Ah! Yes, I see it. Shall I stop here or are we going deeper into the forest?"

"Deeper. A little farther is an opening where you can turn the car. There."

After Harry turned the car and stopped, they got out. Draco searched for something at the right edge of the opening.

"Come on. Through here. We have to walk for ten minutes or so."

Their eyes got used with the dark pretty quickly, but they couldn't move too fast. Draco didn't want to make too much noise. They finally reached their destination a quarter of an hour later. The blond opened a trap door, ingeniously hidden at the root of an ancient tree, and walked down the stairs inside a cubic hole, taking out his torch. Harry followed suit, closing the trap door.

Opposite the stairs, there was an iron door. Draco approached the left side of it and opened the lid of the little device on the wall. He put his thumb on a little screen, and another device opened from the wall right in front of his eyes. He approached it and put his left eye on the binocular-shaped scanner. Within a few seconds, the door clicked and opened.

"After you, Potter."

Harry looked at him with his mouth agape. "Wow. I feel like I'm entering MI5. Eye scanner? Nice!" he said and walked through the door into a long hallway.

Draco followed him, smiling, and closed the door behind him, touching a small panel with his right pinkie that said 'close'. He jumped in a golf cart and signalled Harry to join him.

"You have golf carts?"

"It's a long way to the Manor, Harry, but if you'd rather walk, be my guest!"

"Point taken. Let's go!"

"Before we go into the house, I've got something to do. This way," and he took the first hall to the right. They reached another iron door, and Draco repeated the procedure, this time using his right middle finger and his right eye.

Harry was speechless. 'So, this is the security centre of the Malfoy Manor,' he thought, totally taken aback. 'It's like the control room for a space shuttle launch at NASA.'

"Finest equipment money can buy."

"I bet it is," Harry mumbled.

Draco sat down on the chair at the main control station and watched the monitors for a few minutes. Except the two guards from the front gate and the four inside the house, two at the front entrance and two at the back one, the Manor seemed to be deserted.

"Okay. We have to get here," Draco said, pointing to a set of monitors. "That's the portraits' gallery. There is a secret door behind the second knight statue from the right, so I'll put on a loop only the surveying cameras in the gallery and deactivate the alarm from the secret door. And I need to take something from my room."

"Erm... I don't think that would be a smart move. They might have made an inventory of all the objects from the Manor by now, don't you think?" Harry whispered reluctantly.

Draco sighed. "Yes, I suppose they might have done that, and if I take something they know about, they will be aware of the fact that we were here." He rose from the chair and turned on the lights. "We need to take some things from here, though."

Draco took off his backpack and began to inspect the tables and the shelves in the room. "Yes! Oh, yes! Thank you!" he cried out, turning his eyes to the ceiling. Harry was watching him with his eyebrows raised.

"My mini-me is here," Draco continued.

"Your... mini... you?"

The grey-eyed man began to laugh. "What? Are you having flashes of Austin Powers, Potter? I was talking about my mini notebook. It contains everything I worked on, and everything I need to be proficient in my line of work. So it is kind of a mini-me. Don't worry. I have no intention of taking over the world. Even if thinking about that—"

"Stop mocking me and let's go to the gallery. Did you finish here?"

"Almost. If I could find the... Ahh... Here it is."

"And what's that?"

"A mini-sonar. It scans the area and lets you know if someone is approaching."

"Cool! Do you have many gadgets like this?"

"Not too many, but they are very useful. Talking about that, here: take this. Night vision goggles. Let's go!"

"Just one moment." Harry neared Draco and kissed him passionately. Startled, Draco opened his eyes wide, but he relaxed into Harry's embrace as the black-haired young man's tongue touched every inch of his mouth. Harry entwined his fingers in the shoulder-length locks, dishevelling the blond's hair even more than it already was, since he'd taken off his ski mask the moment they had entered the passages.

All of a sudden, Draco broke the kiss. "We don't have time for this. We must hurry. Let me go."

"I couldn't help myself. I like the way you look with your hair all tousled and..."

"My hair is tousled?" Draco asked, horrified, trying to arrange his bangs.

"Yes. When you took off your mask it—"

"My hair has been tousled, since I took off my ski mask, and you're telling me that just now?"

"Well... You look cute with your hair in all directions."

"I don't look cute, Potter. I look gorgeous, ravishing, beautiful, and sexy, but never cute. Never!"

"Okay, you vain git. The next time your hair gets tousled, I'll take your picture and post it on the internet attached to a poll: What do you think about this bloke? a) cute, b) sexy, c) gorgeous, and so on. Mark all the answers you consider suitable. And we'll see what the readers have to say."

Shocked, Draco stopped from arranging his hair. "You wouldn't!"

"Try me!"

"You're mean." The white-blond-haired man huffed and headed towards the door. "Let's go!" Laughing, Harry followed him.

They walked along the secret passages towards the portraits' gallery, and they reached their destination without any incident. Using the print and the eye scanner, Draco opened the secret door and activated the mini-sonar before he entered the long hallway.

"I'm pretty sure the area is deserted, but better safe than sorry. The two paintings my father mentioned are somewhere in the mid-section of the gallery. Come on..." Draco whispered to Harry and walked as quickly and as silently as he could to the middle of the gallery.

"I still don't understand. How come you don't know about this hiding place? You said that you redesigned the security system, and if it wasn't mentioned on the blueprints of the old one, why didn't your father tell you about it?" Harry asked, confused.

"Because some of the family secrets are revealed only on the deathbed or in cases of emergency, like this one."

"And you've never seen Lucius checking out this hiding place?" Harry continued his quiz.

"It's a hiding place, Potter. If you had one, how often would you check it out?"

"Erm… not often. Just when I have something to put in, or something to take out from it. Otherwise I would draw attention to it, so I would restrain myself from even looking in its direction when I passed by."

"My point exactly," Draco stated, satisfied.

Harry stopped and grabbed his arm, pulling him across the hall from the gargoyle, and whispered in his ear, "Especially if I'd put signs around it, so I could see from afar if someone had discovered it."

Draco closed his eyes in frustration. "Shit, an alarm system. How could I miss something that obvious?" Then realisation struck him, and his eyebrows arched questioningly. "And the deactivation panel could be the candy hidden behind the gargoyle?"

The two men looked at each other and smiled.

"Might be!" Harry guessed. They went across the hall and walked around the statue. After thoroughly analysing the walls behind the gargoyle, they approached the back of the statue. They couldn't find anything there either.

"There has to be something here somewhere," Harry mumbled.

"Wait one second." Draco searched in his backpack and took out his torch, taking off his goggles. "I think you'd better take off your goggles, too. I'm turning on the torch." And he did.

The light wasn't too strong, but at least he could see the real colours of the objects. Draco thoroughly examined the back of the statue's pedestal, and finally he found a rectangle shaped zone whose shade was slightly different from the rest of it. He tried to push it several times and after the fifth or sixth try, it opened like a little door.

"That was too easy," Harry stated when he saw the two buttons that were inside the pedestal.

"And if you touch any of the buttons, you will trigger the alarm. Look!" Draco took a spray out of his backpack. He sprayed over the two buttons and moved the torch into a different position, so the angle of the light changed, revealing a spider web of red laser traces over them.

"And how do we deactivate that? I suppose each button opens one of the paintings," Harry mused more for himself.

"I have no idea, but we'll see after we get rid of that spider web. Look for a clue. A mark, a crack, anything."

They inspected the hole in the pedestal inch by inch, and there it was, at the bottom of the niche, a misplaced thin line. Draco pushed on both sides of the line a number of times and managed to open a trap that exposed another hole containing something like a computer keyboard and a piece of paper. He took out the paper and read it.

"Oh, come on, Father! Really?" he protested, rolling his eyes.

"What is it?"

"A logical puzzle. The solution of the puzzle is the password."

"What kind of logical puzzle? And more importantly, do you know how to solve it?"

"It's a Sherlock kind of puzzle. You know, there are five houses, each house is a different colour, and each house owner is a different nationality and have a different pet. The Englishman drinks tea and hates cats. The man who has a dog stays to the left from the one who has a green house... blah, blah, blah. What is the name of the whisky drinker? And yes, I know how to solve it." Draco typed a word onto the keyboard and pressed Enter. The red light between the buttons turned to green. The blond looked satisfied at his partner, arching an eyebrow.

"That was fast. How did you solve the puzzle so quickly? It's not that simple, is it?"

"Read the puzzle."

Harry read the piece of paper hastily and when he reached the last sentence, he stopped. "What did little Draco hide?" he asked.

Draco was looking at him, smiling. "My father said that he punished me for hiding... candy... behind... the gargoyle."

"Right... You're amazing."

"At times, I pay attention to details. But thank you for the compliment. I know I am."

"And so modest, too." Harry mocked him.

"While I'm pretending I didn't hear that, let's see what these buttons do." Draco pushed the buttons, and two small trapdoors opened behind them.

In one of the hiding places, they found the family register in which all the important events were recorded. In the other, there were some ancient and new files and envelopes. They took them all. The blond pushed the buttons again and the small doors shut. Then he closed the little trap at the bottom of the niche, and the alarm was on again.

"You forgot to put the puzzle back."

"I didn't want to. The trapdoors can't be opened without it."

"It doesn't just deactivate the alarm?"

"If I know my father, and I know him well, then no. It would be stupid to do just that. I'm sure that if you don't enter the password, by pushing the buttons you will trigger something else, too. I have no idea what, though, and we don't have time to find out. Come on! Let's get out of here."

They went back to the control room, reset the surveying cameras from the portraits' gallery and the alarm from the secret door, and made their way through the passage to the forest behind the Manor. Although all the precautions the two men took delayed their arrival at home, they were thankful to them for making the journey uneventful.

~:~:~:~

As they entered Harry's flat, Draco took off his hood and ski mask, tossing the backpack on the couch. Immediately, he felt Harry's fingers in his hair, messing it even more. He tried to escape, but he didn't have a chance.

"Stop it, Pot—" But he couldn't finish his sentence because he found himself with his back pressed against the wall, and with the raven-haired young man's tongue probing his mouth.

He succeeded in pushing Harry's tongue with his own, out of his mouth, but the wicked man captured his tongue and began to suck it with passion, rubbing their crotches together. Draco began to relax, and by the time they broke the kiss for air, he was totally dazed.

"I... would like to know what the papers we took are all about," he mumbled, searching for contact with Harry's lips and planting feathery kisses on the corner of his mouth. "So, I'm going to take a brief shower, change and settle myself on the couch to read," he continued resolutely, but the moan he made when Harry began to suck on his lower lip told an entirely different story.

They kissed for another minute or two.

"Stop it, please." Draco pushed Harry away, trying to compose himself. "Those papers are very important to me, and I want to know what they contain. Please! I thought you understood."

"I do," Harry sighed. "I'm just horny, and you look so adorable, but... I'll... take a cold shower."

"Thank you."

Harry kissed him again and then let him go, heading for his room. Draco went to the bathroom, hurriedly taking his clothes off and getting into the shower. Five minutes later, as he was wiping himself, Harry entered the bathroom, in his boxers, carrying both their pyjamas. He put them on a chair, took off his boxers and entered the shower, forcing his eyes away from Draco. When he got out from the bathroom, he found the blond immersed in reading.

"Did you find anything so far?"

"I checked only the latest file. It consists of my parents' birth and marriage certificates, and marriage contract, my birth certificate and both their wills. The file I'm checking now contains several inheritance papers. My father inherited the estate from his father, who inherited it from his father. My family had been living in that Manor for generations. Everything had been passed on from father to son. Why did they say that it was acquired through illegal means? They had no right to impound it."

"They can begin the procedure if they suspect something, and ask for the title deeds. If they think they have proof that your father earned money through illegal means, they can impound that money as 'evidence', but not what he inherited. As soon as you show them the inheritance papers, they must give you back everything your father inherited. And they have to unfreeze the bank accounts, too."

"And to whom do I have to show these papers?"

"To the ones who are pressing charges against your father. It must be written in his file. I didn't have time to read it, yet. Sorry," Harry admitted, ashamed.

"We'll read it together after we finish this."

Draco put all the inheritance papers in their file and put it aside. The next file he opened was his grandparents' file with the birth, marriage, and death certificates, the marriage contract and their wills. Then, he took the title deeds' file. There were certified copies from all of them, no more, no less than what his father had already told him. From his great-grandparents' file, the marriage contract was missing.

In the meantime, Harry was flipping the pages of the family register. Nothing caught his eye so far, but the elegant envelope on the table did.

"What is that?" Harry took and analysed the envelope. It had a wax seal. The crest from the seal also appeared in one of its corners.

Draco looked at the envelope, puzzled. "I don't know. That's not our crest. Open it."

The black-haired young man opened it and took out several papers and a letter. He opened the letter and began to read it while Draco took the family register and started to turn over its pages. After a few seconds, Harry's jaw slowly started to fall. When he finished the letter his mouth was agape. He read it again, twice. The shock persisted.

"Erm… Draco! I think you should read this," Harry said, handing him the letter.

"What is it?"

"Something about… the Duke of Exeter."

"What?" As Draco read the letter, his jaw had the same behaviour as Harry's.

"Wow. Wait a minute." Draco closed his eyes and breathed deeply. 'Dear Mr. Malfoy,' he read aloud. 'In this envelope I'm sending you the certified copies of the following documents: my last will and testament, the royal edict by which my sister is disowned, disinherited and erased from the public registers for eloping and marrying your grandfather.' Draco stopped reading and looked mystified to the piece of paper in his hand for a long moment.

He swallowed hard and continued in a lower voice, 'The royal edict by which my sister is reinstated as a part of my family, receiving back her name and dowry after my parents' death, and the royal edict by which I am allowed to leave testamentary my nobility title to whomever I consider worthy. Take good care of them, and use them wisely. Lord Austin Cavendish, Duke of Exeter.'

After he finished, dazed, he put the letter on the table and looked at Harry.

"This is insane. Totally ludicrous. What does this even mean?"

"It means that you are the Duke's great-grandnephew. The person everyone is looking for," Harry said, showing Draco the page where his great-grandfather's marriage with the Duke's sister was recorded in the family register.

"No. Why me? I don't want this. Please tell me this is just a dream and wake me up." Draco curled in a ball on the couch and covered his head with his arms.

"Don't you want to read the rest of the papers?"

"No, you read them, and then make me a résumé."

Rolling his eyes, Harry took the papers and started reading them. It didn't take too long to go through the documents. They were short and left no possibility of misunderstanding. As he read the will, Harry's eyes filled with fear. He couldn't lose Draco now, when he'd just found him. But the testamentary execution would take Draco away from him for good.

He gathered all his courage and turned to the blond. "What do you want me to start with?"

Draco uncurled and sat more comfortably on the couch. "With whatever you want. I'm not particularly interested in those papers."

"Well... I will make it short, then. Almost everything you've told me about what you've heard at the party is true. But now, we know the missing characters. So, the whole story goes like this. The Duke's sister eloped and married your great-grandfather. Her family erased her name from the public records, disinherited and disowned her by a royal edict. After his parents' death, the Duke reinstated his sister in her rights as a part of the family, and gave her name back by a second royal edict."

"Meanwhile," Harry continued, after taking a sip of water, "he had a huge fight with his son. When the Duke brought his sister back into the family, his son's hatred grew. The Duke's grandson took after his father and hated his grandfather passionately. The next thing the Duke did was to take them out of his will and to persuade the Queen to give another edict stating that he could leave his nobility title to whomever he wanted."

The jet-black-haired man paused for a few seconds, checking something in the will. "I suppose he attached a codicil to the existing will about the person who will inherit the title and the required conditions in which he could do that. I don't know what happened from that moment, but eighteen years ago, the Duke made another will, a secret one that will be revealed to his family after the funerals. So they have no idea about its existence. At the end, it states that all the previous wills with all their clauses and codicils are null."

Harry flipped the papers in his hands again and said, surprised, "What's even more interesting is the fact that he declared all the following wills with their clauses and codicils, and also all the following clauses and codicils attached to this will, null as well, unless they are accompanied by a royal edict."

"So, no matter what anyone will come up with, if it's not accompanied by a royal edict it's not valid?" Draco quizzed, a little confused.

"That's right! The original copy of this document will be opened in the presence of a royal representative and the Duke's family, at his town residence—"

"Spare me the details. I don't care about this, anyway."

"You ought to. You must be there. Draco, did you pay any attention to what I've said so far?"

"Some. I'm still wondering if all these papers can help me get my father out of jail."

"So I've been talking like the telly for the past half hour, right?" Harry cried, looking at him mystified.

"More like the radio. You weren't moving too much."

"Draco, look at me!" Harry put both his hands on the blond-haired man's shoulders and shook him a little. "Focus! You... are the Duke's heir!"

Draco looked at Harry for two seconds as his eyes began to grow wider and wider. "Are you kidding me?"

Harry shook his head. Draco rummaged through the papers on the table. He found the will and read it hastily.

"You're not kidding! I inherit everything. God. The family will lynch me!"

"No, they won't. They have nothing to gain if you die. Everything goes to the crown. But, if you live, even if they can't take away your nobility title, they can try to persuade you to give them a part of the money."

"They can take it all. I don't want anything. I want my life back, my father's fortune, freedom and reputation." Suddenly, Draco felt so tired and overwhelmed by all the sadness, frustration and rage that the last fortnight's events brought on his heart.

"As a Duke, you will be able to do that," Harry tried to cheer him up.

"Yes, right! Tomorrow I'll be crucified in all the newspapers, magazines and on all TV channels."

"Why would they do that? And how will they do that?"

"You received a letter today that says there will be an article about me in tomorrow's newspapers, didn't you?"

"Yes. That piece of shit."

"You can imagine what that son of a bitch will write about me. When is the will opening ceremony?"

"The papers say that it begins at ten o'clock tomorrow morning," Harry said.

"So, after everybody reads the article about what a whore I am. Perfect timing, don't you think? At ten tomorrow I'll be revealed as the Duke's heir, and the scandal begins. I can see the title 'The Duke Was Not in His Right Mind', 'The Future Duke Is a Whore Whose Father Is in Jail.' The family will contest the will, and the press will milk this for months."

"They might try to contest the will, but it was made eighteen years ago. You were seven at the time. A pure and innocent child. The perfect choice for an heir. And your father had a very good reputation."

"Which suddenly changed two weeks ago, just days before the Duke's death. How convenient for them," Draco mused deep in thought. "What's wrong with this picture?" he asked, frustrated.

"I just had the craziest idea, but thinking about it, it doesn't seem so crazy after all," Harry said, searching through the papers on the table. "Look." He gave Draco the will of the Duke of Exeter.

'The two witnesses, who are the only persons, excluding me, that know about this last will and testament shall not reveal its existence to no one as long as I am still alive,' Draco read.

"Okay, so the family doesn't know about this will. So?" the blond asked, confused.

"Maybe the will they know about has clauses like: my great-grandnephew will inherit the title and part or all my fortune if he leads an ethical life, if he has a decent job. I don't know, something along those lines. Denigrating your family and presenting you as a whore would mean that you can't inherit anything, because you don't meet the requirements."

Draco felt like the sky fell on his head. The thought that his family's misfortune was all his fault made his heart ache.

"Do you mean that everything that has happened to us was because of me?" he inquired, tears shedding in his beautiful, grey eyes.

"No! How can you think it's because of you? It's not your fault that the Duke considered you, and not his son, worthy to be his heir," Harry answered, appalled.

"Yes, you're right. I don't know what I was thinking. But the fact that my family and I are in this situation because the Duke's family doesn't want me to inherit his title and fortune doesn't make me feel better."

"I think the Duke suspected that something like this might happen and that's why he made this secret testament, to be sure you will inherit everything, no matter what his son and grandson would do."

"I guess," Draco sighed. He felt so exhausted. "I had a very bad day. I think I'll go to bed now, if you don't mind." He rose from the couch and headed to the bathroom.

Harry gathered the papers from the table, sorted them and arranged them. After putting everything in one of the backpacks on the couch, he went to the bathroom himself. When he entered the bedroom, minutes later, he found Draco curled in a ball on his side of the bed with his back at Harry. The black-haired young man approached him from behind and tried to start a foreplay game kissing the back of the blond's neck.

"Would you mind too much if you just hold me, please? I'm not in the mood for anything right now," Draco whispered, uncurling himself.

"Okay." Harry spooned him and buried his face in the silky blond locks he loved so much.

The realisation hit him hard. Any miracle lasts three days, and his was about to end. The next day, no matter what the media would say, Draco would become a Duke. They'd never been on the same social level. The Malfoys were an upper class family. Harry's family was above the average, but way beneath the Malfoys. The next day the gap between their social positions would grow beyond his wildest imagination.

That was their last night together. Harry's arms tightened around Draco's body, and he felt the blond pushing himself closer. He tried to memorise everything he felt in those moments. Memories were the only thing he would be left with, after the next day. He didn't want to let go, but he knew he had no choice.

Finally, the two men fell asleep entangled together and filling each other's dreams.

~:~:~:~

'Argh! That annoying doorbell again,' thought Harry, trying to open his eyes. He couldn't feel the warmth of Draco's body any more. 'He left already? I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye. It's not fair.' Harry sulked.

"Just one second. I'm coming," he heard Draco's voice all the way from the living room. 'Oh, he's still here.' Harry relaxed, closing his eyes, again. Not for long, though. He heard the front door as it was smashed into the wall, Hermione's scream, and Ron's growl.

"You, fucking whore! What have you done to my best friend?"

"Ron, stop it. You're strangling him. Stop!" Hermione's yell made Harry jump from the bed. Ron was there, and he was hurting Draco. He ran to the living room, and what he saw made him wish that it were just a nightmare.

"What did you do to him?" Ron was yelling at the blond while he was squeezing his pale neck with both his hands. "What drug did you give him, you filthy whore?"

"Stop it, Ron!" Harry screamed and tried to unfasten the red-haired man's fingers from his lover's bruised neck. "Let him go!"

"Why should I? He's a poof, a queer, an abomination of nature."

"Ron, please, let go! You're hurting him!" Harry cried.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't snap the bastard's neck! Hear it crack under my fingers. Tell me, Harry, why shouldn't I?"

Draco's lips were almost purple from the lack of air, and his eyes were closed.

"Because I love him!"

Ron's fingers stopped from squeezing. "You what?"

"I love him, Ron!"

Ron untangled his fingers from Draco's neck, letting him slide along the wall. The white-blond-haired man took a deep breath of air and began to cough violently. Hermione hastily brought him a glass of water and tried to make him as comfortable as she could.

"Harry, mate! You can't. You're straight. He's a fucking poof. He drugged you!"

"Ron, he didn't drug me," Harry said, retiring with his back to the wall as Ron walked towards him.

"Yes, he did. Otherwise, why would you think that? It's not real, Harry."

"It's real, Ron. I love him. I've been in love with him since high school."

Draco stopped coughing and looked to Hermione in bafflement, as she smiled shyly. His eyes went wide and his mouth opened as he turned to watch the scene between the two best friends.

"What are you trying to tell me?" Ron questioned. "Are you saying that you... are a... No, no, no! Harry. Look at me! It's just the drug that bastard gave you!" He turned to Draco, who was still sitting on the floor. "You've damaged my best mate." Ron hovered over the man at his feet, ignoring Hermione's angry look. He grabbed the white-blond locks in his fist and pulled back hard. "I'm not killing you right here and now, because I expect you to fix him, you pathetic slut. Give me back my best friend!"

"Fix me, Ron?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes, mate. You'll see. Everything will be okay. I'll make sure that slimy whore gives you something to wear the drug off. It will be fine, you'll see!"

"I'm not drugged, Ron!" Harry cried. "I'm gay. I've always been."

"What the fuck did he do to you, mate? Snap out of it, Harry!" Ron said as he took his best friend's head in his palms and shook it slightly.

Draco looked them over and with a flat, husky voice said, "I made him a shot with the gay virus. It's highly contagious, and there's no cure for it. So, in your place I wouldn't stay that close to him. You might catch it and become gay. A gay weasel! Ugh!"

With a shriek and eyes filled with fear, Ron took his hands off Harry's face and fled the room, not bothering to close the front door. "I have to disinfect myself, burn my clothes," they heard from the hallway.

The remaining trio looked after him with their mouths agape. Harry composed himself first.

"Gay virus, Draco? Really?" he asked, sneering.

Shrugging, Draco smiled from the corner of his mouth. "I couldn't help myself, and forgive me for not being one-hundred percent pure intelligence after almost dying. I can't believe he bought it."

"How stupid can someone be to believe something like that?" Hermione questioned, puzzled.

"I don't know, Granger. He's your boyfriend. How stupid is he?"

"I always wondered about that, but until now, I tried to fool myself," she answered.

"Well, now we know," Harry started. "And what we also know is that the article is out, and it's not flattering at all."

"You have no idea." Hermione took out one of the morning newspapers and gave it to Draco.

The blond threw it to Harry. "You read it. I don't think I can stand it. I'm going to take a long shower, instead." He stood up and made his way to the bathroom.

"Harry, I'm sorry for Ron's behaviour," Hermione apologised. "He was somewhat calmer when we came, but he cracked when he saw Draco opening the door."

"It's okay, it's not your fault."

"Do you think he will press charges? I wouldn't blame him if he did."

"I don't know. He might. Ron almost killed him. Thank God that I could stop him in time, even if I didn't want Draco to know how I feel. Do you think he heard? I mean, he was pretty knocked out," Harry said hopefully.

"He definitely heard something, because at some point, he turned to me with a very puzzled, inquiring look. Besides that, he behaved like nothing had happened, so I have no idea what he thinks. On the other hand, why are you avoiding me?"

Harry sighed. "I'm not avoiding you. You want me to report to you every hour on the hour? We talked on Saturday afternoon, and now it's Monday morning. It's not like we haven't talked in weeks!"

"I know, but I've been worried, and the articles in this morning's papers didn't help at all."

Harry sat on the couch and unfolded the paper. On the front page, a title caught his eye. 'Whoring: The Perfect Career for the Precious Son.' The article was everything Draco had feared it would be, and much more. The photographs were from the day they went shopping. Even if they were not compromising, the article was mean, with Draco being the main target.

It described the platinum-blond-haired young man as a shameless whore who seduced and paid him with sexual favours to be his father's solicitor. Harry was portrayed as the victim of this filthy, heartless slut called Draco Malfoy.

He was terrified at the thought of how the media would react when the blond would be revealed as the heir of the Duke of Exeter. Why couldn't he just take Draco and leave the country, go to a deserted island and live there, just the two of them? He knew why. Draco would never leave his family behind.

The phone ringing took Harry out of his trance-like state. The caretaker announced that a solicitor from a private law firm he'd never heard about was on her way to his flat.

"I hope she's not with the press. There are a lot of reporters in front of the building," Hermione said worriedly.

"Can you meet her? I'll go and get dressed." And Harry left for his bedroom.

The doorbell rang not ten seconds later. Hermione opened the front door. In the hallway stood an elegant, brunette woman, about her age, with a big briefcase in her hand and looking very businesslike.

"Hello! I was looking for Mr. Potter. Do I have the wrong door?" she asked, taken aback.

Hermione smiled. "Hello! You are in the right place. Please, come in. Mr. Potter is in his bedroom, changing. He will be with us shortly."

"Thank you. I'm Pansy Parkinson." the brunette said, entering the living room.

"Hermione Granger." The women shook hands. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you. Erm... May I ask you a question?"

"Sure. But, first would you like something to drink? I know this is not my place, but until Harry joins us, I'll be the hostess."

"It's too early for drinks, but thank you for the offer. I see you've read the article." Pansy took the paper from the low table in front of the couch. "Nasty piece of writing. Actually, I'm not here to talk to Mr. Potter. I'm looking for Mr. Malfoy."

"And what would you like to talk to Mr. Malfoy about? I'm Mr. Potter." Harry said, entering the room.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. I'm Pansy Parkinson. My father is Mr. Malfoy's family's solicitor. Please, don't look at me like that. I know that Mr. Malfoy might be angry with my father for failing to help Mr. Lucius Malfoy when he needed him most, but he couldn't. At the moment, he is under house arrest. He's been there since the same day Draco's father was sent to jail. I think they wanted to put my father in jail too, but they couldn't produce enough evidence to incriminate him for Mr. Malfoy's decisions. So, they resorted to house arrest to stop him from helping Mr. Malfoy prove his innocence."

"Fucking bastards," Draco's voice came from the hallway.

He came into the room with only a towel around his waist, and went straight to Pansy, taking her into his arms. "Hi, Pansy. Forgive me for thinking bad things about your father."

They stood like that for a while, making Harry's heart sink. He was on the verge of crying. Seeing his gorgeous man in that... woman's arms confirmed to him the fact that his three-day miracle was definitely coming to an end. And he loved that blond bastard so much it hurt. He wanted to run away, but he couldn't. At least, if he stayed, he could see those beautiful, grey eyes once more, and maybe Draco would smile at him. He was pathetic, he knew that, but he couldn't help it.

"I'll go and change. I'll be back in a second," Draco said and disappeared down the hall.

"How is Mrs. Malfoy?" Pansy asked.

Harry swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice in check. "She's better now. She's in the hospital." An awkward silence filled the room as he finished talking.

"Draco," Pansy began when the blond came back. "I wish I could've helped you sooner, but I was abroad on business. I came home yesterday, and that was because Nott called me, saying that he couldn't reach my father, and that he'd tried to see yours in jail, but they didn't let him. When I came I went straight to his office, and he told me what happened."

"And what really happened, because I don't know that myself?" Draco asked, impatiently.

"Well... he told me that your father had been accused of trafficking illegal materials and had been sent to jail, and my father had been accused of helping him, but something didn't really stick, so they put him under house arrest. To prove their innocence, he needed all the papers from the specified period of time, and he didn't have access to them."

"They blocked everything, all the bank accounts, all the vaults," Harry said, curious to where Pansy was leading the discussion.

"True," Pansy continued. "But my family has a secret vault. It was made a long time ago for documents safekeeping. We had been a family of solicitors for generations, and my ancestors decided to make certified copies of all our clients' important papers and to put them there for safekeeping. When I first heard of it I suspected that those documents were kept for blackmail, and Draco here, sweet as he is, always teased me about that." Pansy smiled.

"I promise I will never do that again. That vault really proved its worth," Draco commented.

"Yes, it did. I gave Nott what he needed, and now he is on his way to lift my father's house arrest. After that, yours will be freed in hours. Nott and my father will see to that. Everything will be fine, you'll see."

"Thank you, Pansy," Draco said, and embraced her again.

"You're welcome, but you don't have to thank me. We're both in the same boat."

"Yes, I know, but still. Well, it seems, everything is settling into place, except one thing." Draco sighed.

"And if you don't hurry, you're going to be late," Harry stated, looking at his watch.

"Yes, you're right. Let's go!"

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, confused.

"We are all going." Draco smiled. "Pansy, with what car did you come?"

"With my limo, of course."

"Harry, you don't mind if we go in Pansy's limo, do you?" The blond looked at him quizzically.

Harry came near Draco and looked deep into his grey eyes. "I think," he started, "you'd better go just with Pansy there."

The blond-haired man frowned. "I'd like you to come, but it's your decision. I don't quite understand why you don't want to be there, though."

"She's your family's solicitor, and as that, she knows your family better than I do. You have all the papers in the backpack, including your father's case file. Besides, the event you're going to is way out of my league. I wouldn't know what to do or say, how to behave myself. And there's something else. You didn't read the article in the papers. It's better if I'm not there. Trust me."

"Okay... After we finish with the reading of the will and with all the other things that are required, I want to talk with Nott and, hopefully, with Parkinson. I have no idea how long it will take, so don't stay up and wait for me."

"Won't you take another set of clothes to change?"

"No. I don't intend to stay that long, and if I need anything I'm sure I'll find something in Pansy's dressing room. I've got to go. See you!" Draco planted a feathery kiss on Harry's lips, and taking the backpack and his winter coat, walked out the door with Pansy in his wake.

As the door closed, Harry couldn't stop his tears any more. His three-day miracle was over.

"What just happened?" Hermione asked, mystified.

"Nothing," Harry whispered. "Just my life ended."

Dragging his feet, Harry headed to his room. Draco's pyjamas and towel were thrown on the bed in his hurry to get dressed when Pansy came. The black-haired young man climbed in bed without taking off his clothes. He took the pyjamas and, holding them to his chest, began to cry like a child, under Hermione's bewildered look. She climbed in bed near him, took him in her arms and started to caress his hair. In Hermione's arms Harry began to calm himself and after some time, he even stopped crying.

Still caressing his locks, his best friend whispered, "Now, can you tell me what was this all about?"

Harry sighed from the depths of his soul, and settled more comfortably in her arms.

"Draco left."

Hermione understood exactly what Harry wanted to say, but because she wanted more details, she decided to play dumb.

"I saw that. He left with Pansy's limo, and he was in a hurry, because he was late. Where did he have to be?"

"At the reading of the last will and testament of the Duke of Exeter," Harry whispered.

"Excuse me? What is he doing there? It's a private reunion, just for the family. Not even the press is allowed." Hermione stopped caressing his hair and tried to lift his head and look into his eyes.

"He is family."

She hardly managed to compose herself and close her mouth. "Can you be a little more specific, Harry?"

"His great-grandfather married the Duke's sister. Draco is the Duke's great-grandnephew."

"The one everybody is searching for?"

"Yes, Hermione, and he inherited everything including the nobility title. Draco is a Duke, and I'm a... nothing."

"Harry, how can you say such a thing? You are a special, wonderful human being. And why are you so certain that he will inherit everything?"

"Last night we were breaking and entering into Malfoy Manor and we took the documents from two of the hiding places. Amongst them, there was a certified copy of the Duke's will. The one they are opening right now."

"I see. And you're certain it is the same will?" Harry nodded. "Wow. Draco is a Duke." Hermione thought for a few seconds. "And you think he won't come back to you," she stated.

"He's way out of my league. Furthermore, didn't you see how he embraced Pansy? It was like..."

"It was like you were jealous. By the way, what would Draco think if he would walk in, right now? We are in bed, you are in my arms, and I'm embracing and caressing you." Hermione looked at him, smiling.

"Yes, but we're just best friends. It's not like we... Oh!"

"Right! Besides, Pansy is married to Theodore Nott."

Harry finally lifted his head and gazed into his best friend's eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Well. I don't know. Maybe because, as I've told you a few days ago, I did some research on your behalf about Draco. Or maybe because I saw an article about her wedding in the papers last year. Or just maybe because she had a travel label on her briefcase, which said Pansy Parkinson-dash-Nott."

"That's why Draco said he would find something to wear in Pansy's dressing room."

"Her husband's clothes are there too, Harry. Don't tell me you thought... Draco in a dress?"

"Well... I had a flash."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm pathetic, I know," Harry continued. "We eliminated the Pansy issue, but the social difference remains. And it's huge. He will never consider me for more than what we already had."

"Harry, you never know. Maybe a month ago you could be right, but he had a very intense life experience this past fortnight, and it might have changed him drastically. He is certainly much more mature than he was two weeks ago."

"And he's a survivor. I already miss him. While Ron was strangling him, I realised that I've been in love with him for so long, and I'm not afraid to admit it. And if you ever tell him that, I'll never speak to you again."

"I thought as much." Hermione kissed the top of his head. He was such a child sometimes. "What I want to say is, please don't lose your hope. Things are not always what they appear to be. Don't despair. Okay?"

"Okay! Do you think they will broadcast something from the testament reading?"

"Let's see. Meanwhile we might have something to eat. I'm starving. This morning exhausted me."

Harry smiled a little and got up from the bed, leaving the room, with Hermione following suit.

~:~:~:~

It was a beautiful winter morning. The sun, even pale, was shining through the bedroom windows, and Draco smiled. He felt relaxed and rested. When he'd gone to bed the night before, he had fallen asleep before his head touched the pillow. The last week had been intense, and he was exhausted.

When he left Harry's flat, in Pansy's car, on Monday morning, he'd hoped he would be back by night, but the events precipitated, and he couldn't make it.

When he'd arrived at the testament reading, he was surprised to see so many people. Amongst the members of the family, there were people that usually were found rather in court than to a simple testament reading.

The big shock came when his father and Mr. Parkinson entered the room followed by two guards, and it looked like the guards were protecting them, rather than escorting them.

After their arrival, the Duke's family's solicitor began the ceremony of opening the will. At first, he read a letter, which clearly showed that the Duke had known very well what his family was like, so he'd asked his solicitor to hire private investigators to follow his son and grandson. The Duke's solicitor gave the incriminating evidence to the royal representative and to the judge. The royal representative took a paper out of his pocket and handed it to Lucius together with the promise that he would be assisted in clearing his name and proving his innocence.

The Duke's son and grandson were charged with forgery, use of forgery and abuse of their position of power, and they were sent to jail. So, by the end of that stressful day Draco was named as the new Duke of Exeter and inherited everything, much to the disdain of the rest of the Duke's family. He and his father returned to the Manor that night, after visiting Narcissa at the hospital. They could bring her home in a few days to continue her healing process there.

The next two days were equally stressful and overwhelming. The investiture was short, but it took place at Buckingham Palace, and meeting the Queen had been a major event.

He had a lot to do for taking over such a big inheritance, and the Duke's family didn't make it easy. He had considered at one point, sharing the fortune with them, but the bad treatment he'd received from them changed his mind for the moment.

All in all, everything settled in place, perfectly.

"Morning, lovely!" Pansy cried, opening wide his bedroom door.

"Mmm... Pansy what are you doing here? And I've told you a thousand times, stop calling me like that!"

Pansy walked into the room, closing the door behind her. "It's almost noon, and I came to take you out to lunch."

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I'll have a sandwich later."

"Don't be silly," she said, lying on the bed near him. She stretched herself on one side, facing him. "You've lost a lot of weight lately. You must eat properly. We can't leave this beautiful body to go to waste," she purred, slightly caressing his chest with her fingertips.

Draco watched her smiling, raising his eyebrows. "Just for satisfying my curiosity, does your husband know where you are?"

"Of course he does." Draco kept looking at her quizzically. "Well, okay! I told him I was coming here to take you out to lunch. I couldn't possibly know where you were exactly in this huge house, could I? Is it my fault that you are still in bed at this late hour of the morning?"

"And being the considerate person that you are, you couldn't bother my poor butler and ask him to come and get me, could you?"

"He was so busy with the last minute preparations for your mother's arrival. I couldn't interrupt him."

"Of course you couldn't. Because your presence in my room has nothing to do with the fact that I usually sleep naked." The blond smiled wickedly.

"Draco, darling! You know very well it... doesn't."

"Yes, right! Then, you wouldn't mind at all if I let Theo know, would you?"

"You're no fun!" Pansy huffed and removed herself from the bed. "I've been gone just for two weeks, and you are a totally different person. It's like I don't know you anymore! We had lots of fun before."

"A lot has happened since then," Draco sighed, trying to think about anything but the last three weeks.

"I gave that a lot of thought," Pansy continued. "Do you want to know what conclusion I drew after analysing your behaviour?"

"No, not really, but I have the feeling that you're going to tell me anyway."

"I reached the conclusion," she said, pacing in front of his bed, "that you're rather in love... with Potter."

"That's ludicrous. I'm not in love with Potter!" Draco shrieked.

"Okay! Maybe not totally in love with him, but you really like him, and you miss him like crazy. Seriously, Draco! This is the first time you've thrown me out of your bed. And don't tell me that you care about what Nott would say, because I don't believe you!"

"Maybe I'm just not in the mood."

Pansy laughed loudly. "Honey, I know you! You couldn't change that much in the past three weeks. You're always in the mood. When you're not, it means you have something on your mind. And with all your problems solved, what can be that important to put you out of the mood?"

Draco rose and sat on the edge of the bed. His body's lower part was wrapped in the sheets. "Would you get out and let me get dressed?"

"Like I've never seen you naked before!" Pansy stated, not intending to move an inch.

The blond rolled his eyes. She could be such a bitch sometimes. "Fine! If I admit I fancy Potter a bit, will you remove yourself from my room and let me get dressed?"

"A bit?" she asked, continuing to stay in the same spot and stare at Draco.

"Okay! I fancy Harry a lot! Satisfied? Now, move!" he shouted. He really needed to use the bathroom.

"I knew it!" she cried. "And what are you going to do about it?"

"Mmrr!" Draco growled, curling his hands into fists, and throwing Pansy a murderous look.

"Okay! I'm going!" Pansy raised her hands in abandonment and fled the room.

By the moment he'd finished getting dressed, Draco was determined to take care of the Harry issue. And he knew the perfect way to do it. He wanted a flat in town anyway.

~:~:~:~

Harry was dragging his feet on his way home. Lately, he preferred to walk. He couldn't concentrate behind the wheel, and Hermione had forbidden him to use the car.

Since Draco had left, his life had been an endless nightmare. He had never felt so low. He missed the gorgeous blond greatly, and everything in his flat was a reminder of the time they had spent together.

The constant mockery he was submitted to at the law firm he worked for made things even worse. Everyone called him Potterella and asked if Prince Charming had brought him the crystal slipper. He couldn't take it anymore, so that morning, he wrote his registration and presented it to his employer. Instead of accepting it, the man told him to take some days off and solve his problems. Like a problem as the difference of social position could ever be 'solved'.

He considered talking to Draco, but he was simply terrified of what the blond might say. So, he preferred to sulk than to face the new, young Duke.

Maybe he should sell his flat and buy a new one. He'd thought of that time and again, but he just didn't have the force to let it go. It was true that he dreaded the fact that his flat reminded him of Draco, and sometimes he wanted to run away. But when he was away he could hardly wait to go back and immerse himself in his lover's scent that was still persistent in the pillow he'd slept on and in the clothes he'd worn. Could he get any more pitiable than that?

When he finally arrived at home, he saw a huge truck parked in front of the building. He didn't bother too much about it. He'd seen that truck several times before. As he entered the building, the caretaker greeted him.

"Hello, Mr. Potter! The men who will help you move into your new flat are here. Do you like it?"

"What?" Harry asked dazed.

"Your new flat!"

"Am I moving?" Harry frowned, and from the rush of adrenaline, his dizziness subsided.

"Sir! The new owner wants to make offices in this building, and he is relocating all the people that were living here. Didn't you read the letter?"

"What letter?"

"Everyone received an explanatory letter and the location of their new flat!"

"I didn't receive anything," Harry complained.

"Yes, you did!" The caretaker looked at him questioningly.

"Oh! That envelope that you gave me a few days ago and I didn't bother to open?"

"That's the one!"

"Shit!" Harry's dizziness was gone, and it was quickly replaced by anger and panic. He fled up the stairs, right into his flat to pick up the envelope. When he walked into the living room, he froze. Several strangers, dressed in uniforms that had the same inscription he'd seen on the truck outside, were gathering his belongings, stuffing them in boxes. He was evicted, and they were there to move his furniture and everything else to the new location.

"What are you doing? Who are you people?" he cried. "Stop it! I don't want to move!"

"Mr. Potter, I presume?" A tall man in his mid-thirties approached Harry. "Hello. I'm the leader of this fine squad. I saw the new location, and I must say that it is at least a hundred times better than this one. Trust me! And don't worry about anything. You will find everything in these boxes. Nothing will be lost or broken when you arrive at your destination."

"What did you pack so far?" Harry asked, panicking.

"We've just started, so we've only packed the things from your kitchen so far."

Harry went to his bedroom somewhat relieved, followed by the man in charge. Nobody had touched his bed and dressing room yet. He gathered some of the clothes Draco had worn, then took the black silk pyjamas and the blond's pillow from the bed. He remained in the middle of the room, holding them tight to his chest, looking like a fool.

"You can put those in this box here," the man offered.

"No. I'd like to keep them with me," the black-haired young man whispered.

"Then, what about a bag, so it would be easier for you to carry them?" the man insisted.

Harry was torn up inside. He didn't know what he wanted. Five minutes ago, he was considering the idea of selling the flat and moving somewhere else away from his memories of Draco. But confronted with the real situation of moving away, he didn't want that any longer. It just seemed he had no choice.

"Okay," he whispered. "And where is this new location I have to get to?"

"It's complicated to explain. I think you'd better get into the truck. In about ten minutes we'll finish loading the first transport. You can come along. Don't worry about your things. They will all get there, and someone will bring your car later."

Harry arrived at his new flat an hour later. The truck driver left him in front of a Mansion and told him that his belongings would be taken somewhere in a warehouse at the back of the building.

'Maybe it is better this way,' he told himself as he rang the doorbell. He was somewhat resigned to the situation by the time the butler opened the door.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. We've been expecting you. Let me show you your new quarters," the elegant butler said and led Harry towards the Y-shaped staircase at the end of the huge squared foyer. They turned left and after climbing the second set of stairs, they continued their way on the landing of the east wing of the Mansion. At the middle of the landing, the butler opened a massive double door, inviting the raven-haired young man into the most glamorous, yet very functional, living room he had ever seen.

"Is this my living room?" Harry asked taken aback.

"Yes, sir. These are your quarters. Through that door is the bedroom. The library and the study are downstairs."

"But it is already furnished. What about my old stuff?"

"Everything you own is stored in a warehouse in the backyard. You are free to bring whatever you like, but I suggest seeing the rest of the rooms and testing the existing accommodations before you make any decisions," the butler answered as he opened the door to the bedroom. "Lunch is served at two. Good day, sir." He walked out of the living room, leaving the black-haired man by himself.

Harry left his briefcase on the couch, and entered the bedroom. It was huge, and the bed was twice as big as his old one. He put the bag with the pillow and Draco's clothes on the bed, took off his winter coat and walked to the dressing room to hang it up. The proportion of the dressing room didn't shock him. Everything was much bigger than necessary in that Mansion anyway. What shocked him was the fact that half of the dressing room was full with someone else's very expensive clothes and accessories.

"Am I... sharing the quarters?" he asked himself aloud.

"And what's so wrong about sharing, Potter?" The answer came and made Harry spin around so fast that he almost lost his footing. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He just stood there staring dazed at the gorgeous, 'just out of the shower' looking white-blond-haired man, hoping that everything wasn't just a dream.

He wished that the towel Draco had around his waist covered more, and that beautiful hair wasn't still damp and totally dishevelled. But it was, and Harry's body responded with fury to every sign Draco sent. And there were so many!

He didn't realise that he had closed the distance between them; all he remembered was the thump Draco's back made when he hit the wall behind him and the blond's huff as Harry spread his legs with one of his own and began to rub their groins together.

He took his lover's hands, pinned them above their heads, and crashed the other man's mouth in a fierce kiss. The way Draco was squirming beneath him made the green-eyed young man mad with lust and desire. The towel was thrown away, and Harry's hands left the blond's wrists and grabbed his buttocks, pushing their bodies even closer, if that was even possible. With his hands free, Draco managed to push Harry away by the shoulders, breaking the kiss.

"Stop taking out my tonsils, Potter, and take off your clothes: you're giving me a rug burn."

Harry stopped what he was doing and almost ripped his clothes off.

"Where is the burn?" he asked worriedly.

"On the most sensitive part of my body, of course. You rubbed it mercilessly."

Kneeling, Harry examined the beautiful cock in front of him. The head was almost an angry red, and it seemed slightly injured.

"Does it hurt?"

"It stings a little," Draco said, sulking.

"Would it be okay if I kiss it to make it feel better?"

"You might try!"

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He hungrily attacked Draco's dick, like a man in the desert attacks an oasis after days without a drop of water. Yes, he had missed his lover, but only then he realised how much. And in that moment his decision was made. He would do anything Draco would ask of him, and he would make sure they would never be apart, again.

His angel of doom made him feel whole and at home no matter where they were as long as they were together. Feeling Draco's cock deep down his throat was one of his favourite activities. He smelt and tasted so good, and hearing the blond screaming his name as his lover violently came into his mouth made him feel like he was in Heaven.

Harry rose and watched, concerned, as the other man breathed deeply with his eyes closed trying to calm himself. "Better?"

Draco smiled and giggled, messing his hair with both hands, stretching like a cat. "Oh, yes, much better! But it can be even more so."

The black-haired man leant and kissed him passionately for a few minutes.

When they broke the kiss for air, Harry asked curiously, "And how can I make it even better?"

"Before I tell you that, I want to clarify something," Draco said, and pushing Harry away, he made his way to the bed. The other man followed suit.

"First, I want you to know that I am the new owner of the building that you lived in. I intend to make it into a law firm, mostly for helping unfortunate people like the ones at the night shelter. And when I say mostly, I mean that from time to time some of the clients must be rich for us to be able to help the poor ones without charging them. I want you to be the executive director. You can hire whomever you want, and manage the firm however you please, as long as you don't bankrupt me. What do you say?"

Harry watched him for a while with wide eyes, and suddenly, he began to laugh like crazy.

"You... are... amazing! I just gave you a blowjob. We are naked, I'm standing here aroused like hell, holding my dick in my hand, and you think this is the perfect timing for a business talk! Right?"

Draco took out a condom and the lube from one of the nightstands, and walked towards Harry swinging his hips. When he was near enough, he touched his lover's nipple with the condom's wrapping and whispered in his ear.

"It's the perfect timing, and it is in your power to end this conversation with a simple 'yes'." The blond kissed the corner of Harry's mouth and moved away, leaving the black-haired man shaking with desire and breathing hard.

"Yes, you manipulative prick!" Harry managed to say through gritted teeth, feeling the anger begin to build inside of him.

"Perfect!" Draco climbed onto the bed with feline movements and turned to him, smiling like an angel, his messy hair making him even more adorable.

'How can anyone be angry with this man?' Harry thought.

"Second," Draco said, continuing to smile, "we are both living in this Mansion, so you can make any changes you want."

"Okay," the raven-haired young man agreed, approaching the bed, hunger written all over his face.

"And third, I won the bet, so you will bottom as much as I will. Clear?"

Harry nodded, unable to talk as he saw the blond stretching his arm and handing him the condom and the lube.

"How do you want me?" Draco's purr almost drove his lover over the edge.

"Just flat on your back, for now." Harry mostly mouthed the answer, but Draco knew exactly what he had to do.

With trembling hands, he put on the condom and spread his lover's legs, kissing his balls and touching that tight arsehole with his slick fingers.

Draco took his hand in his own and said resolutely, "I just want you to fuck me as hard, as fast and as deep as you can."

Harry felt like fainting. "I'll hurt you."

"No, you won't. Please, I want this too much! And I know you want it as much as I do. Just do it, Harry. Own me!"

Dazed, Harry covered his lover's mouth with a passionate kiss, and putting the blond's legs over his shoulders, prepared himself to enter the body beneath him. As he slowly pushed his cock in, Draco was squirming and moaning, not exactly in pleasure.

Harry broke the kiss. "I'm hurting you."

"Don't stop," Draco demanded, grabbing the sheets with his fists. "I want this."

But he had to stop, or he would come too soon. Finally, after a couple of minutes, he was completely settled inside his lover and stopped for the second time to compose himself. He didn't have much time for that, though.

"Potter, if you don't move I'm going to kill you," the white-blond-haired young man threatened, and Harry obliged.

He pulled himself out slowly and thrust inside at the same pace. The second time when he did that, he heard Draco's impatient growl. "Faster, Potter. Faster!"

"Don't you think it's time to stop calling me Potter for good and call me just Harry, instead?"

"Why? Have you changed your name into 'just Harry', Potter?"

Harry thrust into him viciously, twice, hitting his prostate both times, making Draco arch his back and scream in pain and pleasure at the same time. Then his tempo subsided, frustrating the other man greatly.

With all his problems solved, the blond could finally relax the way he always wanted to, and he could really enjoy himself. Oh! It was so good to have his mind blank like a sheet of paper, and just immerse into the ocean of emotions his lover induced in him. But he wanted more, he needed more after all the hard times he'd had lately.

"Potter, if you want me to call you Harry, you'd better fuck me good, because until now, I'm pretty much disappointed."

That definitely did the trick. Harry frowned and began to thrust into his blond lover so fast and hard that his back didn't touch the sheets any longer. Draco, at the moment, thought that if he arched his back just a little more he might snap his spine, or his neck, or something. As the black-haired young man was thrusting inside of him deeper and deeper, his brain slowly but surely melted away. Harry's hand wrapped around his cock and began to stroke him in the rhythm of the thrusts, from time to time squeezing the head and touching his slit with the thumb.

It was too much. His orgasm was building fast, and in the moment Harry, with a groan, pumped into him faster, harder and deeper than ever before; he came hard, crying his lover's name and shooting his load all over his chest, sperm reaching on his face and even in his hair. As he came, he squeezed Harry's cock, making him go over the edge and come harder than he'd ever done before.

They both collapsed, entangled together on the bed, with foolish grins on their faces, wanting to laugh like crazy, but not having enough energy to do so.

"Still disappointed?" Harry inquired, whispering into Draco's ear.

The grey-eyed man's grin widened. "No. It was amazing."

They lay in silence for a while, regaining their strength.

"You asked me a question once, and I told you to ask me again when I would be in your bed with no strings attached," Draco mentioned unexpectedly.

"Yes, I remember. I asked you if being bigger than your ex-lovers was a bad or a good thing. The single difference is that now, I'm in your bed."

"Harry, this is actually our bed. I am willing to give a try to this crazy kind of relationship we have. I have no idea if it will work or not, and I can't promise you anything. All I know is that, in this moment, you are everything that is missing from my life for my happiness to be complete."

The raven-haired young man was mystified. He looked at the blond in his arms for a long time, analysing what he'd heard.

"Harry, say something. I'm on the verge of panicking here."

As he took a deep breath, Harry tried to explain, "At first, I had the feeling that you were joking. You are a Duke, and I'm nothing."

"Not too long ago, the roles were reversed. Does that title mean so much to you? I'm the same person you met at the night shelter. For me, that title is just a piece of paper that makes my life harder. If I could, I would drop it in a heartbeat."

"You... have no idea..." Harry said, struggling with the tears in his eyes, "how much I wanted to hear you say what you've just said."

"So, are you moving in with me?"

"I thought I already had."

"I'm not forcing you to stay. I can have your furniture sent to your old flat by tomorrow morning, if you want to move back there. But... I really would like you to stay," Draco pleaded, expecting Harry's answer.

The black-haired young man nodded frantically. "Yes, I'm staying, and mark my words: you're not going to get rid of me that easily. I'm here for good. I love what you've done with the place anyway. Why should I move in a smaller, cheaper one when your bed is so comfortable?" he teased, planting a kiss on his lover's lips.

They both burst out laughing like fools.

"So, what's the answer to my question, then? Is being bigger a bad or a good thing?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow quizzically.

Draco stopped laughing and looked his lover over thoughtfully. After a couple of seconds, he gazed into those amazing green eyes and confessed, "Definitely a good thing, and the fact that you are exclusively mine, it's even better."

The End.