Caught Between the Windows and the World

by jamie2109

His hour was rapidly becoming a cherished time of day and Draco felt free to think things he’d never imagined before. These things became a promise, a wish, and a desire. "

Disclaimer: Not Mine

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Author's Note: This was written for the hdworldcup on LJ for the prompt Temperance (Tarot). Hopefully, you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

jamie

xxxx

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Bright pinpoint lights in the distance captured Draco's attention as he waited to be granted entrance. He stood at the gates, silent and still, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his warmest winter coat to protect them from the bitter wind. The lights of Hogwarts were a beacon that called to him, a faint jumble of memories, passionate arguments and stark terror overlaid with a warmth that could never be mistaken for anything but the steadfast protection of Dumbledore…death notwithstanding.

He wondered if the old man knew he was here.

Draco greeted the shrouded figure that opened the gates for him with a small smile. It was perhaps an undignified arrival; on foot in the dead of night and alone.

In truth, he cared not for the manner of his arrival, only that when summoned, he'd needed time to prepare for the impact his return would have on his equilibrium. There were too many memories here; too much pain and sorrow and fear for it to be a welcoming return.

Yet arriving on foot allowed him to see the lights glow warmly, casting slivers of gold across the snow as sanctuary against the cold and the lonely. Somehow in the yearning for the refuge they offered, he had the notion he was coming home. Within these walls was where he'd find the road he needed to travel, the steps he'd need to take to become whole again.

Even with the time to prepare, there was too much history here to be ignored. It swirled around him, forcing him to acknowledge the memories, to watch them. In his mind's eye they danced like badly looped photographs and he relived them all over again, more dispassionate as an onlooker than he'd ever managed as a participant.

A shake of his head returned him to the present, banishing the pointless memories. Wishing his choices had been different only poured salt on the wounds in his soul.

Refuge was found in the quiet of his room deep in the dungeons, the very essence of Severus impregnated into the walls, leaving the spaces echoing with the resonance of his being. Yet he approached it with equanimity, as if unsure he deserved the unique honour of sharing occupancy of these quarters with someone so self-sacrificing.

How like Fate to have chosen to place him here. Was he, too, doomed to live a bitter twisted parody of a life and then die an ignominious death; a life wasted, alone?

Morning was announced far too early for Draco's liking but at least the Hogwarts house-elves served a decent cup of tea. Really, he could forgive many failings as long as he had his cuppa. His mother had once said that England ran on the back of the humble cup of tea. He didn't think she was wrong. He wished that somewhere behind the dulled vacant stare she still had the ability to think such astute thoughts.

The Floo inconveniently roared to life as he was dressing and he sighed, acknowledging Pippy, the house-elf directed to care for both his parents whilst he was away, with a wave of his hand.

"Master, Pippy is wanting to inform you that both the Master and Mistress passed a settled night and all is well this morning."

Which was more than he'd done, Draco thought tiredly, rubbing his temple.

"Very well, Pippy, thank you," he responded. "Make sure they have everything they need. Is there anything else?"

"Miss Pansy also called and asked for you."

"Did she need anything specific?"

"No, Master. Pippy is thinking Miss Pansy was unable to sleep."

He nodded. "If she calls again, tell her I'll call her tonight after dinner."

"Yes, Master."

"That will be all. Thank you, Pippy."

Draco closed the Floo and finished dressing.

Guilt was the only reason he was back at Hogwarts. Only guilt could have removed him from his parents' side – Narcissa quiet and morose, fading fast since Lucius' return from Azkaban, a broken man, last year.

He was tired, physically and emotionally. Running the huge Malfoy estate and its multitude of properties and financial dealings was demanding. Dealing with his parents, Pansy, and a still avaricious media only too happy to expose the latest exploits of Lucius when he invariably made a scene of some sort accompanying Draco shopping or out for a meal, left him exhausted mentally and with very little time to call his own.

And if the Headmistress had not insisted he owed the school something; he'd still be with them. As it was, the school had secured the services of a Potions Master until the end of the year.

.o0o.

Potter didn't look any different than the last time he'd seen him several years ago. He still wore those ridiculously myopic glasses, and Draco was certain that should he get close enough to see, there'd still be tape holding them together.

"Malfoy," Potter nodded, sitting a few seats down the table at breakfast. The dark stare full of hatred and distrust was gone, to be replaced by one of guarded interest. But the eternally messy hair and the brilliant green eyes remained the same.

"Potter," he replied, then ignored him and concentrated on his bacon. He knew Potter had questions about why he'd chosen to return to Hogwarts but there was no staff rule about having to carry on a conversation with other Professors, was there?

.o0o.

"Look, I'm really trying here, Malfoy." Potter's words rasped across Draco's already thumping head.

"I don't want you to try! Can't you get it through your thick Gryffindor skull that I don't want to help you out with this Quidditch thing! I have enough to do as it is, I do not need your pathetic attempts at 'getting along' in order to make my life complete. So kindly piss off while I can still manage to be polite."

Merlin, but Potter was driving him crazy! It felt like every time he'd seen the damned bespectacled git he was trying to 'make nice' or be civil or polite or even, heaven help him, be friends!

He had enough to do with him as it was; putting up with his long stares across the meal table in the Great Hall, his woefully inadequate attempts at conversation in the staff room, and now his less than welcome advances in the matter of training some seventh year in Quidditch. He resolved to take his meals in his quarters as much as possible in the future.

"Why?" Potter raged. "Why do you not want to attempt to get along? We're working together for the next six months, why shouldn't we at least try and be nice to each other?"

"Because I don't like you," Draco responded smugly, and watched an unidentifiable look cross Potter's features.

"Is that any reason to be rude?"

"I wasn't being rude, but you don't seem to understand the word 'no', Potter, and so I will spell it out for you. N.O. means no. I am not interested."

"You scared you can't coach as well as you can fly?"

Draco bristled. Why, that smug arsehole, where did he get off suggesting that…what gave him the right to think Draco was…was that a compliment? Bloody hell. "Fine. I'll help you coach the teams and give O'Halloran so much competition that if he doesn't make the Cannons cut it will be all your fault."

How he was going to fit that in, alongside his normal potions classes and looking after his family, he had no idea.

"Thank you, Malfoy. Oh, I'm supposed to tell you that Minerva has arranged for all your evening study sessions to be taken over by the Head Boy and Girl to give you a bit more free time."

Draco looked up and narrowed his eyes. "And who told her I need more free time?" The Quidditch coaching wasn't going to take up his evenings.

Potter surprisingly blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "That would be me, sort of," he said.

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?"

"A couple of days ago I came looking for you to speak to you about the Quidditch coaching and I walked into your sitting room to find you asleep in your chair. You had all these papers around you and you looked exhausted."

Draco was horrified. He remembered that day. It had been a particularly bad one; the nurse he'd hired to care for his invalid parents had quit after one too many attempts by Lucius to waylay her in the rose garden. He'd been perusing resumes of possible replacements and he'd fallen asleep. How dare Potter watch him when he was at his most vulnerable and him not even aware that he was being watched? He growled softly as Potter continued.

"So I picked up all the papers and tidied up for you and just as I was finishing, your house-elf appeared in the Floo. I was the one who left you the message about Pansy."

Oh, Merlin, Pansy. So he knew about that, too. Was nothing sacred? "When you have quite finished examining every little aspect of my life, you might get to the point."

"I am," Potter said, frowning. "After all that, I was worried about you and spoke to the Headmistress."

"You what?" Draco almost screeched.

Potter took a deep breath and braced himself, and Draco had to smirk thinking Potter was getting ready for a tirade of how he'd invaded Draco's privacy. But before Draco could continue with said tirade, Potter held up his hand.

"Before you go on, you can just shut it. If you don't want people knowing your business, ward your door for visitors before you fall asleep exhausted at two in the afternoon."

Draco spluttered, but Potter kept on. "Minerva was upset when I told her. She was already feeling guilty about dragging you away from your life and so she wanted to make this as easy on you as she could. And it's about time the Head girl and boy take on some responsibility."

"If I'd wanted help, I'd have asked for it," Draco said, jaw clenched. He was so angry and embarrassed. Yes, McGonagall had guilted him into repaying a debt to Hogwarts with this six month fill-in job, but he'd never wanted to give the impression that it was too much for him. He was a fucking Malfoy and Malfoys never admitted a weakness or a need. Not in public, anyway. He could barely even see straight right now, he just wanted to get away before he punched that fucking righteous hateful git right in one of his gorgeous green eyes.

"Sometimes what you ask for and what you need are two different things," Potter said quietly, which just made Draco feel worse.

"You don't know me," Draco said, as all the futile anger drained from him to leave him feeling deflated and tired and just wanting to be left alone. "You have no idea what I need." Truth be told he was glad of the extra free time, but he certainly wasn't going to admit that to Potter.

"No, but I'd like to."

"Go away, Potter," he said, dully.

It was typical of Potter that he hadn't gone away completely. What he'd done was to give Draco space, which was a blessing, as it wasn't until an hour later when Draco was still trying to come to grips with the fact that Potter had stepped in and actually Ihelped/I him, that he realised he'd thought of Potter's eyes as gorgeous.

.o0o.

Draco swallowed hard, trying desperately not to let his hand shake too much, too obviously, which would make it clear to everyone in the room that he'd never been to an establishment quite like this before. When he'd first given in and decided to come here, he'd thought his natural Malfoy poise and the mask he'd carefully crafted over the years would protect him, but when he looked around he discovered that this was not a place for masks. This was a place where masks were ripped aside, where you were laid bare, stripped down to your raw self, where inhibitions were ignored, pulled from you and displayed for anyone to observe.

It was like joining a secret fraternity, he thought. Each act that was designed to open you out fully, expose your most base innermost needs, also bound you closely with everyone else. There was no standing on ceremony here; no false pretensions; just ordinary people acknowledging this more private, less socially acceptable side of themselves in an atmosphere that completely sanctioned the freedom to express it.

He didn't want to be here. This unasked for and unappreciated craving to yield up control of himself and his actions never seemed to completely leave him. He'd always managed to control it by losing himself in the discipline of making potions, but lately it had become overpowering, and when he'd confiscated some illicit Muggle porn from one of his seventh years and seen the advertisement for the club, curiosity and the anonymity it offered got the better of him. So, here he was, breath catching at the candid behaviour of some of the submissives, wondering if he was ready to actually participate and sate the side of him that made him tremble at the most inappropriate moments. Like when he caught Potter looking at him, eyes boring deep as if he could read Draco's mind.

Mistress Lily approached him and he lowered his eyes respectfully; he'd learnt and understood that much just from watching the others, though some of them seemed to ignore any sort of courteous behaviour.

"Draco," she said briskly. "Seeing as this is your first night here, I've arranged for Guardian to take care of you this evening."

Draco looked up shocked, blushing, his heart suddenly deciding to take residence at the back of his throat. Merlin, he was really doing this. "I'm not…I've…"

Mistress Lily placed a hand on his arm. "Don't worry, he's not called Guardian for nothing. Come, he's just finishing with another client."

Her words did nothing to calm him, but he followed her towards an almost enclosed area where he saw a man he took to be Guardian, untying another man from a large wooden frame. The man's back was crisscrossed with red stripes and he smiled when his hands were released, though he was moving a little stiffly.

Draco turned his attention to the Dominant, Guardian. He was tall, probably a few inches taller than Draco, well built without being too solid. He wore leather, as Draco expected, but only pants, boots and a mask. His chest was bare, and it was a lovely chest, Draco thought, hairless and muscled enough to feel wonderfully hard under his hands…

But Mistress Lily was speaking to him and he turned his attention back to her words as they watched Guardian and the anonymous sub. "I've already made you aware of Perfect Harmony rules. Guardian has a few of his own, which I am sure he will tell you." The sub was now on his knees before Guardian, head bowed, and Draco could just hear him thanking the Dom, as Mistress Lily continued. "Guardian has a reputation for finding out what a sub needs and giving it to them." She turned and smiled at him. "I'll leave you here. When they're finished, tell Guardian I sent you."

"I will. Thank you, Mistress," Draco replied, having never taken his eyes from Guardian.

As the tension that filled him became tinted with anticipation and he watched the Dom as he petted and said his goodbyes to the sub, he wondered how he would feel about himself after this.

When Guardian turned to look at Draco, he paused; Draco thought he was sizing him up, studying him and he grew tense under the scrutiny though he knew he was pleasing to look at.

"Draco, I presume?" The voice was full, rounded and yet assertive enough that Draco immediately felt relieved. He nodded.

"Mistress Lily sent me."

His nervousness must have been audible in his voice, or the look on his face gave him away, but Guardian nodded and sat down on the couch. "Sit here, beside me, Draco and we'll talk about what you're after and what you'll have to surrender to get it."

Draco didn't even have to think about obeying; his legs were about to betray him anyway, so sitting was virtually necessary. He sat next to Guardian, trying to look casual but certain he just looked like he was trying too hard.

"Relax, Draco. I understand you haven't done this before."

Draco shook his head, keeping his eyes on his knees.

"Well, you won't be forced to do anything you don't want to at any stage. Do you know what a safe word is?"

Draco shook his head again.

"A safe word is a word you'd never normally use in the context of what we'll be doing, so I know that you really mean me to stop. All right?"

"Saying 'stop' or 'no' won't work?"

"No. Sometimes you'll say it, beg me to stop but you won't really want me to stop. Understand now?"

"Yes. That makes sense," Draco said, relaxing a little at the confidence in Guardian's voice.

"I have to make sure that you're safe, Draco," Guardian's voice softened on his name and a finger ran the length of Draco's upper arm to his shoulder and neck. Draco blinked but didn't pull away. "What word would you like to choose as a safe word?"

Draco thought for a while, though the fingers on his skin were distracting. The initial 'Quidditch' came to mind, but this was a Muggle club and that word would have no meaning. "Shadow," he said, decisively. It seemed fitting after all – this darker side was shadowing his everyday life.

"Shadow it shall be," Guardian replied, nodding. "Why have you come here, Draco?"

Ah, the magic question. He'd not articulated this need; he'd rather shoved it aside as a reviled part of his personality that could never find a place in the cleverly crafted and moulded self that he encouraged himself to be. "I don't want to be here, I need to be here. I need to hurt." His eyes drifted to the frame where the sub had earlier been tied.

"Maybe later," Guardian interrupted. "For now, you'll answer me some questions."

Draco bristled. He'd not paid for an hour with Guardian to talk! "Look, I don't think this is going to w…" He went to stand up but Guardian's hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Don't go. There is a reason for me asking these questions. You've already paid, why not stay at least and hear me out?"

Merlin, he didn't want to be questioned and have his motives examined; he just wanted to hurt and get rid of these tensions that were itching under his skin. This wasn't meant to be a deep and meaningful assignation. But Guardian was right; he'd already paid. He sat back down and nodded.

"There are things I need to know about you so that you get what you paid for."

"All right," Draco replied reluctantly.

"Something I'd like you to do first will give me an indication of how prepared you are for submission." Guardian reached over to a small table by the couch and picked up a collar and leash. "If we choose to make these regular sessions you will be required to wear these at all times you are with me. You'll take the collar home with you and wear it for an hour each day as a reminder."

Draco looked at the collar. It was a pretty thing. Black leather, studded with stones that looked like diamonds, but obviously weren't. And it had a panel on the front with Guardian's name engraved upon it. It was like being owned. At first Draco railed against the very idea of being owned, but then he stopped and thought about it. It wasn't really being owned, it was symbolic and wasn't part of the idea of coming to this place to abdicate some of his own responsibilities for a short while? Wearing this collar for one hour a day would be symbolic of relinquishing control every day for one hour. Draco almost cried in relief, as it was then that he realised just how much he needed someone to take care of him once in a while. He swallowed hard and nodded. "I'll wear the collar," he said softly, and leant forward, exposing his throat for Guardian to place it around his neck and fasten it.

The rest of their hour was spent talking about rules of behaviour that Draco must adhere to when in Guardian's service and setting boundaries that Draco was not prepared to cross. As much as it sickened him to be here, while he was listening to Guardian speak, that all faded into the background and he felt secure and valued. The last ten minutes, they tried some very basic spanking. Draco remained fully clothed and it was really used as a gauge for Guardian to ascertain how much Draco could endure. Satisfied, Draco made arrangements to see him again the next week, returning to the castle with a smile on his face, still wearing the collar. He had a pleasantly warm bottom and a most welcome erection. This he took care of in the privacy of his bedroom surrounded by silencing spells.

When he woke the next morning, the tension that had been plaguing him was gone. He dealt with Pippy's firecall about his parents, Pansy calling, obviously intoxicated and rambling about losing the baby, and several managers of Malfoy properties, easily and competently. There was some satisfaction in the ability to take control of these matters and deal efficiently with staff and have his orders carried out. He felt like his old self again, the one who never needed anything from anyone and who could make his way in the world all on his own. When he sat down rather suddenly a slight twinge in his bottom reminded him of the previous night and he blushed, mortified that he'd been to a fetish club. Determined to consider it a one off aberration, he resolved never to think about it again. And he would definitely not be wearing that tacky collar. He shivered in distaste at why he ever thought he'd wear such a common thing.

.o0o.

"It doesn't matter what I do, you're never going to even attempt to be my friend are you?" Potter threw himself down on the couch in the staff room and glared at Draco some weeks later.

"Why should I, Potter? You have nothing I want or need. I can't believe that even someone as thick as you hasn't been able to take the hint and leave me alone!" He'd never understand Potter. Clearly it was some stupid Gryffindor trait, though he'd never heard that they were supposed to be thick skinned enough to endure all manner of insults. In fact, Draco had spent most of his six years at Hogwarts insulting Potter so much he'd react. Those reactions had been wank material for years. Draco had loved that he'd had such an effect on the prat; loved how he used to get so red in the face and how he'd looked about ready to explode.

These days, though, Potter seemed to have such a thick skin that he'd become dense as well, because not even the harshest insults caused anything like the reaction of their youth. Draco sighed. He hadn't had a satisfying wank since he'd returned from IPerfect Harmony/I that Monday night and he didn't like to think of that as a good wank. It served a purpose and that was that; he'd much rather forget all about it, thank you very much. So really it had probably been months since he'd had a decent wank. Damn Potter, if he wanted to be such a good friend he could at least get pissed off enough to provide Draco with some new material to use.

"Draco, stop being an arse." Pansy's voice joined the argument. Draco narrowed his eyes and turned to face the traitor.

"I'm not being an arse, thank you, Pansy, dear. I just want Potter to stop trying to rescue me. I don't need him or his bloody good intentions, nor do I need his help with my friends."

"He's being a better friend than you at the moment," Pansy shot back, crossly. When he looked at her, she appeared shocked she'd said that just for a moment, then she blinked and it was gone, replaced by defiance.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've been treating me like a victim and I can't live like that anymore. I have to move on." Pansy's voice held a tremor but was clear.

"I've only done what you needed and what I thought was for the best," he said, confused and hurt.

"I know you have and I truly needed that at first. When Theo finally left I was pretty broken and needed time to recover physically. Now I need to recover emotionally, and that means getting out of that place, finding a job and looking after myself. Harry suggested the perfect thing. It helps you and it helps me. So please, just shut up and stop being such an arse to him. He's not that bad once you get to know him."

"Of course he's that bad, Pansy, he's Potter," Draco replied stubbornly. If he didn't hate, no, dislike Potter so much he knew he would see what a perfect solution this was. Pansy would no longer lock herself away in her flat, drinking and sliding into a deeper depression than she was in when she lost the baby after Nott left her beaten, broken and bloody in a heap on the doorstep of St. Mungo's. And he would have someone to take care of his parents that not only did he trust, but more importantly, his parents trusted as well.

But it grated that it was Potter that had suggested the plan and he knew, he just knew he'd have been able to come up with said plan if he hadn't been so busy with the estate, his classes and Potter's stupid Quidditch coaching plan. It was all Potter's fault that he didn't have time to be a better friend to Pansy. Stupid four eyed wanker.

"I'm not really that bad," Potter said, smiling. The stupid git was smiling! Arrogant arse.

Pansy walked over to Draco and leant up and kissed his cheek. "Grow up, dear," she whispered in his ear. "We're not in school any longer. I've asked Harry for dinner next weekend and I expect you to be there as well."

"You what?" he screeched. No, it was more like a roar. He roared. There was no way Potter was going to invade his home, spend time with his parents and see how far they'd deteriorated and laugh at them. There was no way that Potter was going to muscle in on his family and friends.

"Your mother is looking forward to meeting Harry again," Pansy said, which settled it, because Draco had never been able to say no to his mother. Pansy tossed some Floo powder into the fireplace. "See you at 7 o'clock." She stepped into the green flames and was whirled away.

Draco scowled after her and then turned the scowl onto Potter, who was still smiling. Infuriatingly.

"I assume you have some manners. Bring them, and if you dare utter one word about my parents, I'll hex you so far into next week that they'll still be looking for you next year." Then he turned and stormed off back to his rooms, deducting points from every Gryffindor he saw for anything he could think up at the time. There might have been a 5-point deduction for breathing there at one point; he hardly noticed.

.o0o.

"I thought I'd not see you back here, Draco," Guardian said quietly. "When Lily told me you'd booked I almost refused the booking. It was disrespectful of you to not send word you would not be attending me any further."

"I know, I'm sorry, Guardian," Draco replied, eyes cast downward. He'd been directed to sit at Guardian's feet, which he eagerly complied with, folding his legs under him and resting on his heels.

"Don't let it happen again."

"No, Guardian, I won't."

The snick of the leash attaching to the collar made Draco smile. For a while he'd been worried that Guardian would reject him but by attaching the leash, Draco knew that they could resume where they'd left off.

"I wouldn't be smiling if I were you, Angel."

Angel? Perhaps this was to be Guardian's pet name for him. He wiped the smile off his face in any case.

Guardian directed him to rise up on his knees and remove his shirt, then to kneel there with his hands clasped in front of him. Guardian walked around him, letting his fingers trace over Draco's skin which made him straighten a bit and lift his chin, happy that he was being touched.

"You just love the attention, don't you, Angel?" Draco could hear Guardian's amusement. He nodded. It was true; he did love attention, both good and bad.

"Angel, if I ask you a direct question, I expect a verbal response. Understood?"

"Yes, Guardian. I'm sorry."

"So, why have you returned to me, Angel?" The soft brush of leather across his shoulders accompanied the words and Draco shivered involuntarily.

"I was losing control, Guardian, and I needed your direction," Draco responded, though he hated to admit that Potter had made him so angry that his skin itched with the need to come back here.

"You see your time with me as enabling you to gain control of your self?"

"Yes, Guardian," he whispered, beginning to shake in anticipation of feeling that leather flogger on his bare back.

"And my direction includes hurting you?"

"Yes, please, Guardian."

"I see. And what is my pleasure in this transaction?"

The voice was colder and Draco looked up, confused. "I thought…"

"Keep your eyes down!" The order was barked out and it made Draco's eyes widen and he did as he was told without question. Now he began to shake for quite another reason. He didn't want to displease Guardian, but he wasn't sure if he could handle being treated in such a manner.

"While you are here, it is my pleasure that counts, Angel, and not yours. As it happens I think you need the direction and to be taught that taking a step back and considering other people's feelings goes a long way to working cooperatively and ensuring we both get what we need."

Draco closed his eyes and nodded, not prepared for the sting of the leather as it snapped across his back. A sharp, surprised gasp escaped him, which was quickly stifled by biting his lips.

"When you are with me, you do not assume anything about me and what I want. Understood?"

Draco nodded. Then a hand tangled in his hair and yanked his head back so far that he was in danger of falling over. He was looking up and into Guardian's masked face. "I already warned you about answering a direct question, did I not?"

"Y-yes. I'm sorry, Guardian," Draco answered through the pain in his head. He knew he deserved that, but he still tensed up in a tight ball inside.

"Right." The matter of fact voice was back and Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "Make sure that your hands remain joined in front of you. If they come apart at any stage, you will earn yourself another 20 lashes. Understood?"

"Oh…yes, Guardian."

As the flogger made its mark over Draco's skin, he arched and moaned and gasped in pain. The stinging of the flogger spread all over his back, and it burnt, and made his blood sing with the sheer terror of not knowing if he was going to be able to bear it all. Once when his hands came apart while he tried to balance himself, he almost used his safe word to stop the play, as he was already sobbing and didn't think there was any way he'd be able to take another twenty lashes. But gentle hands through his sweaty hair and a soft voice in his ear told him how well he was doing and how he was sure that his angel would be able to take the last twenty. Pleasing that voice became the only thing Draco clung to, focused on, and strived for.

Then, when it was all over and Draco was allowed to move, Guardian pulled him onto his lap and just held him gently while he recovered. The whispered words as he was gentled spoke of how proud Guardian was of him and Draco melted with pleasure. No one had ever told him they were proud of him before. No one.

By the time he arrived back at the castle, Draco still had the warm glow of satisfaction simmering inside him, along with the heated reminder on his back and a hard cock that really didn't want to wait for silencing spells.

In the morning, he tried telling himself that he didn't need to go back; he could cope on his own. Somewhere in the dim recesses of his mind, though, he knew he'd be called back there again. Guardian had said he was proud of him. Draco had someone to make proud, now, and perhaps that wasn't something to overlook too readily

.o0o.

As it turned out, despite his initial refusal and being reticent about assisting, Draco looked forward to the Quidditch coaching sessions he had with the four House teams. He and Potter usually took half the team each and drilled them in practice, setting new strategies and formations and pushing them to perfect their techniques. Draco loved it because it meant that he could fly. There'd not been much time for flying since he'd left Hogwarts. The war and the aftermath had taken care of that, so despite having to actually train children, he took the opportunity after each coaching session to spend half an hour in the fading light of day to fly for the fun of it.

Not that he'd ever admit it to Potter, but he thought that the Quidditch was good for him. Most of the few smiles he allowed himself came when he was tearing across the sky at a speed destined for disaster, or performing death defying loops and dives. At times he actually whooped for joy as he evaded yet another catastrophe.

Surprisingly he found most of the students competent at flying and silently congratulated Potter on his teaching. Some of them left a lot to be desired in the intelligence department and more than once he'd had to refrain from exploding as he'd had to explain various maneuvers more than once. But generally, Hogwarts had some decent flyers that were being moulded into formidable Quidditch players.

Of course, the other thing Potter had been right about was O'Halloran. He really could fly. He looked like he could walk on the air, or fly the broom standing and still not appear unbalanced or in danger of falling. Draco could well understand why Potter thought that he would be picked up by the Cannons; he had a grace in the air not often seen. Many times Draco found himself watching the young man in the air instead of coaching the rest of his team or watching the rest of the game. There was only one other person Draco had ever seen fly like O'Halloran and if Potter hadn't been only a few years older than the boy he'd have wondered if they were related in any way.

The only downside to flying was that often he caught Potter watching him from the ground. Much as he loved to fly alone, he also often wished that he had someone to fly against. Only not Potter. That would be too much like school and would evoke too many memories of never being able to best him anyway no matter what he did. He'd known sooner or later, though, Potter would not be able to stop himself, and he'd challenge Draco to a race for the Snitch.

When it came, Draco almost smirked at how predictable the man was.

"The adoring students not enough for you any more, Potter," Draco said, sneering.

"Thought you might like some competition, actually," Potter replied in such a calm manner it irritated Draco.

"Why would anything I do be of concern to you?"

"You fly up here on your own after every training session and I just thought you might like company."

"Merlin save me from idiotic Gryffindors," Draco groaned. "Did it ever occur to you that I might prefer to be alone? That I come up here to fly on my own because I can do it on my own?"

"But you're always on your own. You eat meals in your room when you can get away with it, you teach your classes and then retire to your rooms. No one should live that isolated from people."

"That's hardly your business, is it? I have other matters to take care of on a daily basis, as you full well know. It takes up…why am I even telling you this? It is none of your business!"

"Well, it's obvious that you spend most of your time alone, seeing as you find it hard to even be civil around people," Harry retorted.

"I'm civil around people, Potter, I don't feel it necessary to be civil around you."

"Your mother seemed to like me," he said smugly, and Draco could have punched that look right off his face. Somehow Potter had managed to charm his mother into a smile; something Draco had not seen on her face in months.

"My mother is ill," he replied, weakly, not really having anything to fight back with.

"Look, Draco, if you're really not interested in being beaten to the Snitch, I can understand, no problem."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I know what you're doing, Potter and it won't work. You can't taunt me into playing with you. Now if you'll excuse me…" Draco moved to fly away back to the ground.

"I'll let you win," Potter interrupted. Draco scowled, angry.

"You've become soft in your old age, Potter. You couldn't beat me anymore if I had one hand tied behind my back."

"Kinky," Potter said grinning. Still, Draco wanted to punch him in the mouth. "However, we'll never know if you're too scared to try, now, will we?"

Potter held up a fluttering Snitch in his hand and Draco looked at it, eyes narrowed crossly. It was about time Potter was handed his arse in a Quidditch game. It appeared Potter was laughing at him, and there was no way Draco was going to endure that.

"You're on. Release the Snitch."

Potter sat back on his broom and grabbed Draco's arm with his free hand. Draco was this close to shrugging him off and hoping he didn't have enough time to regain his grip on his broom before he fell arse over tit to the ground.

"Give it ten seconds before we go." Potter released the golden ball and they hovered motionless for the ten seconds. Draco watched Potter, saw the faintly amused expression at his temper and it made him want to shove away the frustrating irritant.

But then the ten seconds was up and Potter let go of his robes and took off. Draco followed, knowing Potter hadn't seen the Snitch, but following anyway. Potter let out a loud whoop and Draco watched him ducking and weaving and making it impossible to pass. He'd been right, though, it had brought back memories from his school years. Memories of always following Potter and never being able to best him. He was even more determined now to catch this Snitch and prove to Potter that he was worthy after all.

At the very moment Draco took his eyes off Potter, he caught sight of a golden speck from the corner of his eye and immediately banked right towards it. Yes! It was the Snitch, fluttering madly away to their right. He spurred his broom on to greater speed and took off after it, not knowing if Potter had seen it or not. As he neared it, the golden ball switched directions and Draco swore, changing paths fluidly and reaching for it again.

Just as his fingertips touched a fluttering wing, he felt an explosion of joy in his chest. He was going to win! For all of a fraction of a second he was exultant, as in the next second, the Snitch virtually disappeared right under his nose. Where had the damned thing gone? He turned and looked all around, even at Potter who had been close behind him. He was wearing the same look of disbelief that Draco had. Draco didn't believe it for a second.

"Is this some sort of joke? You charmed the Snitch to disappear unless you're the one to touch it?"

"I did not! I don't know where it went," Potter replied, angrily. "Say what you want about me, Malfoy, but I'm not a cheat! I leave that to Slytherins."

With that, Potter took off towards the school, leaving Draco hovering above the pitch, angry at himself for thinking Potter cheated; he'd never been one to cheat, that's for sure. He was also confused about the Snitch and annoyed that their game had been so short. After fuming for a while, Draco returned to the school, tense and jittery; the flying today not having given him that sense of freedom he'd come to associate with it.

The only thing that calmed him that night was wearing Guardian's collar. He'd perfected a sort of ritual before placing it around his throat. The first night he'd found that his mind was too full of the day's events to actually relax and enjoy the feel of the leather against his skin. So now he sat for a while after taking the collar from its safe place in the bottom drawer of his chest. He just held it in his hands and closed his eyes to clear his thoughts. When he placed the collar around his throat after that he felt calm and in the right frame of mind to accept it.

In this way, he felt that he enjoyed it enough and it acted as enough of a reminder, that he didn't need to be running to Guardian every night. Which was just as well, because this aberration, this kink, was nothing he was proud of but he'd realised he'd have to try and find a way to live with himself and acknowledge that it was a part of him, even if he didn't accept it.

Despite this, the argument with Potter had made him so tense that he still felt the need to visit Guardian the next evening. It was always Potter, it seemed. In every other aspect of his life, he was in complete control and was capable and in command and things were running smoothly. Even Pansy living at the Manor and caring for his parents had worked out well. They were happy and he could see that Pansy was making inroads into dealing with her emotional issues. Potter got under his skin and he felt incredibly resentful that it was Potter who seemed to be sorting out things in his life that weren't working.

.o0o.

When he closed his eyes he could hear the swish-creak of the leather as it bent at the pinnacle of the upswing. Then he deliberately relaxed himself, waiting, welcoming the sudden sting of the strap across his back that forced his arms to jerk in their restraints. The gag in his mouth muffled his groans and the muted noise intensified his sense of capitulation. It was the first time he'd used a gag; Draco had never felt prepared to submit that far and Guardian was careful to not push him hard too quickly.

"Have you had enough, Angel?" the quiet voice asked from beside him, his elevated breathing from wielding the strap wafting coolly across Draco's sweat streaked neck. "I don't think so, not yet. You're still loving this."

Draco heaved a sigh from deep in his chest, hanging his head in relief. He hadn't had enough yet, he could still think clearly. Though his back was burning, his arms tired from being tied to the frame and his legs shaky with the strain, he still needed more. He needed it until he screamed out all his frustration and relief and disenchantment.

As the last stroke lashed the sorest place on his back, Draco finally gave a sob, arched his back and let go by screaming. Every muscle in his body was taut and the sheer joy and release of tension he experienced aroused him more than he thought was healthy and he was as hard as a rock.

Tactfully, Guardian left him to his own devices for a few moments afterwards in order to collect his thoughts and emotions, but then he released him gently and lifted him into strong arms. Draco was emotional enough to lie there compliant, comforted by the warmth of those arms and being soothed and held like a precious gem. He always felt so shaky after these sessions and they affected him so that he pushed aside his general antipathy for cuddling of any sort and accepted them. Guardian was, however, astute enough to realise that he needed the after care; it set him back on an even keel once more. It served another purpose as well, allowing an intimacy to grow between them. It was hard for there not to be, seeing as Draco came here every Monday evening, but it still surprised him, nonetheless, that he had grown to enjoy it. Mostly.

"Why do you call me Angel?" Draco asked.

"Because you remind me of an angel. Delicate and fragile."

"I'm not delicate and fragile," Draco protested and sat up, scowling at the masked Guardian.

"I know that," Guardian said. "But while you're here, you're allowed to be."

Draco stood and dressed, still scowling, conflicted. His father had always taught him that being submissive was weak and he was anything but weak, so it was too hard to validate his reasoning sometimes, other than a need that pursued him from day to day, a glimpse of relief. Perhaps the confirmation that he was not alone. His days were spent in command of vast resources, in control of his family and responsible for the education in potions of three hundred children. The conflict between these two sides of himself still seemed vast and insurmountable. As insurmountable as the one between he and Potter.

"Angel, when you wear the collar this week, I want you to think about some things for me. Will you do that?"

Head bowed, Draco turned to Guardian and nodded. "Yes, Guardian, I will. What will you have me do?"

"I want you to think about your life. The nights you come to me, you are so tense and anxious. I think you should take the time I'm giving you to reflect on what you want to do to solve that tension."

Draco frowned. The only real tension left in his life was Potter and there was no way that they'd ever be able to see past their dislike of each other to solve that tension.

"Did you not hear me?" Guardian's voice commanded a reply.

"Yes, guardian, sorry. I heard you. I will do as you ask."

Draco returned to the castle feeling rather conflicted.

.o0o.

Draco sighed and removed his reading glasses. Was it too much to ask to be left alone for one evening so he could work in peace? Did they not realise that he had a life outside this damned school? One that he would be returning to in a few short months if there was a life left for him after all these interruptions that stopped him from completing important paperwork!

Muttering under his breath about inconsiderate people and how it was probably that annoying Potter come to expound some more on his new Quidditch strategies, he rose and went to answer the door, not at all shocked to see Potter standing there. Of course. Git. He was, however, surprised to see Minerva as well.

"To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?" he asked, keeping his tone purposely polite and guarded. He had to with these two. Minerva had a way of looking straight through you if she thought you were being anything but civil and Draco would rather crawl over broken glass than endure one of those stares. And Potter, well Potter had a habit of overreacting and starting an argument and he'd had a long day and was in no mood for a verbal battle with the world's most irritating man.

"May we come in, Mr. Malfoy?" Minerva asked and now Draco could sense something was wrong, because Minerva only used the formal mode of addressing him when she was being terribly serious about something. He caught sight of Potter's face, as he stepped aside to allow both of them to enter the room and the feeling solidified that an event of some significance had occurred and was about to tip Draco's world upside down.

"Has something happened?" he asked, and then wished he hadn't as if not asking the question would delay or even cancel the delivery of the bad news.

"Would you like to sit down, Mr. Malfoy – Draco?"

Minerva was still looking like she'd rather be anywhere but here and Draco suddenly had the need to sit down. He barely noticed Potter sitting beside him on the couch.

"Miss Parkinson firecalled the school a few moments ago from St. Mungo's. My office and the Infirmary are the only places that are connected to St. Mungo's or else I'm sure she would have called you directly."

"It's my parents, isn't it? Something's happened." Draco said, the dull inevitability of the news sitting like a rock in his stomach.

"I'm sorry, Draco. Your father had a fall and by the time help arrived, it was too late. You have my deepest sympathies…"

Minerva kept speaking but Draco didn't hear anything after 'too late'. He was rather numb about the news. On one hand he was glad it wasn't his mother; there was something much more devastating about losing one's mother. But then he berated himself for thinking that. He'd lost his father, whom he'd loved, no matter what horrible things he'd done.

Draco kept waiting for some sort of emotion to present itself to his brain so he knew how to act, but it steadfastly refused to do so. He was, on a vague level perceptive enough to know that he was in shock, but for the most part all there was around him was a roaring in his ears and a discomforting inkling that the pathetic whimpering noises he could hear were coming from him.

Then Potter put his arms around him and he was suffused with warmth. It was all very unreal in a hazy kind of muted way. Minerva was saying something but it was background drone. Potter was also saying something, but as Minerva left then he assumed it was to her Potter had been speaking.

He pulled away from the warmth after a while; the patting on his back too reminiscent of the way his father had held him when he was a child.

"I'm sorry, Draco." He could hear Potter's voice but the words still didn't make much sense and Draco made the effort to try and watch Potter's lips and make out the words. "You all right?"

Well, that was clear enough. And what a stupid question that was. Draco blinked "No, I'm not all right, Potter. I've just been told my father is dead, how do you think I –I…" Draco's voice broke and he felt the traitorous sting of tears. He really wasn't all right, was he? "He's really gone?" Draco was hardly aware that he sounded so lost.

When Potter nodded, Draco let the anguished tears fall as they wished. Right now, he was beyond caring if Potter saw him in a weak moment. Potter, in his typical fashion, just stayed there and as Draco cried silently, put his arms around him. Draco gave in and cried on his shoulder, discovering that the right sort of hug can change the way you see someone after all.

For the next few weeks, Potter was a Godsend, though Draco would rather eat poison than admit it. He took over all Draco's Quidditch coaching clinics, made arrangements for either himself or any of the other teachers with free periods, to come and take Draco's potions classes. Even the seventh years chipped in and took some of the first year classes. Potter also came and dealt with Narcissa who had decided that since Lucius was gone that there was no need for her to rise from her bed ever again. Pansy saw he was at his wits end with worry and demanded that she be allowed to call in Potter seeing as Narcissa had been charmed by him before.

Harry arrived and spent the afternoon with Narcissa, who the next day rose and carried on her life as she had when Lucius was alive. Still fading and morose but at least not having given up. Draco was grateful beyond words; he had no idea how he'd cope if his mother were to be taken from him now. But he couldn't find a way to thank Potter. He didn't know how to breach that gap.

Draco spent his time dealing with Lucius' will and formalising the agreements undertaken when Lucius was deemed unfit years previously. He also made all the funeral arrangements and notified anyone that needed notifying. Underneath his calm demeanor, he was grieving but he felt he owed it to the Malfoy name to be seen as dignified in his grief; which meant not showing it at all.

Potter saw it, much to Draco's disgust. The day he'd heard the news Potter was there, being his usual annoying self. He'd seen Draco at his most vulnerable and had offered a warm pair of arms that gave him comfort and he'd not once turned it back on Draco and made fun of him. Instead the great pillock had been…perfect.

And oh, what it cost Draco to admit that.

Throughout it all, Draco kept up with his promise to wear Guardian's collar. Though he'd not made it back to see the Dom again, he'd sent word this time and explained. But the enormous sense of comfort and support he felt when he wore the collar ensured that he kept up with the practice of wearing it for one hour a day. During that hour, he spent time thinking about his father, since that was what was causing him the most stress. Therefore, it was the hour he allowed himself free reign on his thoughts and emotions wherever they went.

Inevitably his ruminations would always return to Potter, although in truth he was not causing any kind of tension in Draco these days. In fact, maybe, if he wished it hard enough, they could one day be friends. His hour was rapidly becoming a cherished time of day and Draco felt free to think of things he'd never imagined before. These things became a promise, a wish and a desire.

.o0o.

It was April before Draco returned to the club and to Guardian. Spring was in full swing and the days were becoming longer, less grey and dull. Draco's heart felt much lighter, the loss of his father still left him feeling saddened but keeping himself busy with his classes and the Quidditch coaching, along with his family responsibilities, helped a great deal. And of course, Harry – yes, he was Harry now, even if only in his head – was still being his irritatingly helpful self. Draco had become used to Harry turning up at his rooms and dragging him to the Great Hall for meals. Secretly he enjoyed it but where would be the fun in telling Harry that?

Draco was still warring within himself about needing Guardian. And he'd discovered, much to his dismay, that it was Guardian specifically he felt he needed. There were still many areas of his life where he played a role. The fact that he needed to less and less was not lost on him, but he found it hard to let go and lower the guards that were stopping him from letting people in. He still held Harry at arms length though he didn't want to anymore. But he found it hard to let down that guard and accept his friendship. He wished it wasn't impossible to be that vulnerable in front of Harry. That was where Guardian came in. Draco had no choice but to lower all guards and become painfully vulnerable to Guardian and an ever-growing part of him needed that as much as he needed the tension relief that pain gave him. He suspected whatever his reasons were; they were all a way of releasing something within him that he'd never really acknowledged he needed but he was going to have to if he wanted to build on this newfound lightness of heart.

This evening Guardian greeted him with a nod and Draco happily knelt at his feet, head bowed and waited. The calm that washed over him just by being in Guardian's presence was almost overwhelming.

"How are you, Angel?" A warm feeling bathed Draco's chest at the sound of genuine concern in Guardian's voice.

"I am well, thank you, Guardian."

"What would you like this evening?"

"Whatever you decide, Guardian," Draco replied, respectfully.

"I think this evening…" There was a pause while Guardian moved around Draco and ran his finger under the leather collar, stroking Draco's neck. He smiled and leant into the touch, only to be disappointed when he pulled away. "Come and sit on my lap, Angel. Tonight I want you close."

Draco blinked but didn't hesitate. Being held in Guardian's lap was something reserved for after care, not a choice of preference by the Dom. Guardian had always been tactile with Draco and Draco bloomed under the considerate touches as much as he released under the administration of pain, but Draco had never been required to spend his hour on Guardian's lap before.

He carefully arranged himself, thankful that he was fairly slight and Guardian was a bigger build.

"It's been quite some time since you've come to see me. I'd like to hear about how you coped with your father's death."

It was odd how, despite being semi visible to all the other patrons in the club, Guardian's tone of voice had Draco feeling like they were cocooned in a protective bubble, away from the interruptions and interference of any other living soul. It amazed him how he felt entirely comfortable relating to Guardian personal details of how he'd felt receiving the news.

"As well as could be expected, I assume," Draco replied. "It hurt a lot that I'd lost him. Even though he had not been himself for a number of years, he was still my father and I loved and respected him."

Guardian's hand slipped around Draco's waist and pulled him closer. Draco gratefully leant into his chest and rested his head on his shoulder. There was something to be said for this solicitous concern.

"And your mother?"

"My mother was devastated. As it was she was slowly deteriorating, a pale shadow of what she once was. She loved my father and seemed to lose the will to live when he returned to us from…jail." Draco stuttered slightly, suddenly remembering that Guardian was a Muggle.

"Did you have friends to help you?"

There were fingers threaded through Draco's hair and he closed his eyes and relaxed fully into the touch. No one touched him like this, he thought, as he let the final exhausted tension drain from him and he found himself telling Guardian all about Harry and how he'd surprised him.

Before he knew it their time was up and Draco was shocked to find that they'd spent the whole hour just talking quietly, Guardian stroking and petting him and comforting him. He'd never been the type of person to need the soothing words and gentle touches, or so he'd thought. Guardian was teaching him that they were necessary. He missed being strapped to the frame and flogged, much as he hated to admit that to himself, but he felt totally refreshed emotionally from just the cosseting. Mistress Lily had been right; Guardian did have a knack of knowing what his subs needed.

.o0o.

"Professor Malfoy!" The call came from behind him and was obviously one of the students, and as it was almost dinnertime he was reluctant to stop and acknowledge him. But his reluctance turned to anticipation when he turned and saw O'Halloran galloping towards him. For all that the boy was like a graceful swan in the air, he was all elbows and knees and ungainly coordination on the ground. He'd been expecting word from the Cannon's talent scout who'd been here to see their last Quidditch match two weeks ago. From the look on O'Halloran's face, it was definitely good news.

"They want me to go to pre-season training with them!" he exclaimed, excited.

"As expected," Draco replied, inclining his head. It wouldn't do to get too excited with the students. He was, however, extremely pleased that their hard work had paid dividends. "You deserve it, O'Halloran, so make sure you don't waste this chance."

"I won't, sir," he assured, smiling. Draco knew the young man wouldn't do anything to jeopardise his chances; he was too earnest in his endeavours. The boy had been early to just about every practice; had listened intently to everything both he and Harry had tried to teach him and practiced things over and over until he had them perfected. Draco admired his dedication. And his talent. Though it wouldn't do for the Potions Master to be too effusive with his praise.

"Well done, O'Halloran. Have you told Professor Potter yet?"

"No, sir, I only found out just now."

"Very well. I'll see you on the Quidditch pitch after dinner for some more training."

"Yes sir."

"Good. And congratulations, Mr. O'Halloran. I expect to see your name up in lights at the next World Cup. Don't let me down." Draco added a smile to the statement and O'Halloran grinned, obviously relieved Draco had been joking.

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir, for all the time you and Professor Potter put in to my training."

"You're welcome. Now, go and get your dinner and make sure you eat properly. You're in training."

"No sticky date pudding, then?" the boy grouched, playfully.

"Not unless you want to fly like a sticky date," Draco replied, a slight curl of his lip visible.

O'Halloran laughed. "Dunno what the rest of the students are talking about. I reckon you have a great sense of humour."

O'Halloran took off down the corridor towards the Great Hall in his loping steps and once more Draco wondered how the boy managed to look like he was moulded to the broom and cut his way through the air like there was no resistance. Draco smiled after him, feeling some satisfaction at having played a part in that young man's future. Perhaps more than what he'd felt when a student succeeded in making a potion correctly, because this young man had a special talent and Draco had been a part of him developing it to the stage where it could become a career.

Training that evening consisted of himself and Harry working O'Halloran hard, pushing his speed and flexibility to the limits. It worked easier with the two of them and they made the young man spend significant amounts of time on his evasion techniques, as well as his diving and rolling. Harry would chase him and Draco would fly in from the side and O'Halloran had to evade a collision at top speed. Or they would swap and Harry would fly at O'Halloran from underneath or from the top. Draco was impressed with Harry who threw everything into his flying, completely fearlessly, trusting O'Halloran and trusting Draco to be good enough to perform as expected and therefore evade a collision.

By the time Harry called a halt to practice, due to the sun setting and casting too deep a shadow over the pitch to see properly, they were all hot, sweaty and exhausted.

"Well, I think you're going to do us proud, Tim," Harry said clapping O'Halloran on the shoulder cheerfully.

"I hope so," the boy replied. "You've both worked so hard to get me up to the standard, I'm really grateful."

"Don't mention it," Draco said. "I'd say we're both expecting you to get on the World Cup team eventually so that we can live vicariously through you. Well, Professor Potter will, anyway. I'm sure I have much better things to do."

Harry was watching with his mouth hanging open as if he wanted to say something as a clever comeback to that but couldn't think of anything. Draco grinned which made Harry blink and do a double take.

"Did I see you actually smile at me? Hold everything, this should be front page news in the Daily Prophet." Harry was laughing at him.

"I do know how to smile, you know." Draco pretended to be huffy, but he wasn't. For the first time in a long time, he was enjoying himself.

"Yes, but you never smile at me. Be still my beating heart!" Harry placed a hand over his heart and pretended to swoon. O'Halloran laughed, shook his head and went through to the showers.

"Oh, shut up and put the brooms away," Draco directed, slightly flushed because… well, he didn't know why he was flushed; it was just Harry.

It was funny to think how far he'd come since he'd returned to Hogwarts. Consistently being forced into spending time with Harry, he'd grudgingly grown out of the reflex action of immediately dismissing everything that came out of Harry's mouth. And he'd discovered that the perception he'd always held of Harry to be an arrogant attention-seeking whore was as far from the truth as could be. It had taken months for him to realise that, though. For the life of him, Draco couldn't work out why Harry had put up with him for so long, as Draco had given him no reason to persist.

"I think that's my new life long mission," Harry said, hanging their brooms in the correct places and ensuring that any loose twigs were tidied up.

"What's that?" Draco asked. He sat down on one of the benches and began removing his leather protection.

"Making you smile at me," Harry replied.

"Is that all?" Draco scoffed. "Pay me enough and I'll smile at you."

Harry had moved closer because when he heard Harry's voice next, it was right beside him. "I want real smiles, though. Smiles where your eyes tell me you're glad I'm there. Those sorts of smiles change your face."

Harry's voice made him shiver a little and also made him resolve to bestow more smiles on Harry. Maybe he was worth a few genuine smiles. Turning toward the voice, his eyes captured Harry's brilliant green ones, looking into his, full of a question. Draco was sure his eyes held the same question and one he wasn't sure he wanted answered.

A slight parting of Harry's lips made Draco look down at the movement and it seemed to him like the world was singing in his ear. He'd heard that at these watershed moments people often reported that time stood still, or that their conscious thoughts narrowed down to just the two of them. But for Draco, the ringing in his ears was like a roar, a rush of something. Could he be hearing his blood as it coursed through his veins? If he leant in to press his lips to Harry's would, he hear his heart stop?

Hesitantly, he found himself leaning forward; felt as much as saw Harry doing the same. It was tentative and awkward and it might have been a perfect kiss, one that Draco might have kicked himself for later because it was Harry bloody Potter and Merlin knew he couldn't afford to give him the idea he might actually like him! It might have been the type of kiss that made your toes curl up and your lips sing with just the pleasure of being pressed against something so soft and made for kissing. It might have been all that had Tim O'Halloran not come back into the change rooms just at that moment.

Startled, Draco pulled away and blushed, wondering what he'd been thinking. Obviously, he hadn't been thinking at all. He snapped his attention back to removing his leathers.

"All finished then?" Harry asked O'Halloran. Harry's voice sounded a little shaky which pleased Draco immensely. He hadn't been imagining things, then.

"Yeah. I have loads of homework to do, so there is no time for a leisurely shower. Good evening, Professors," he said, picking up the rest of his gear and giving them both a smug little smile as if he'd seen everything, before walking out.

Damn. "Good evening, Tim." Harry replied. Draco stayed silent.

After O'Halloran left, the silence in the room was heavy. Draco felt the tension building in him; he wanted to say something; he wanted to say nothing; he wanted to kiss Harry and he wanted to run so far away he'd never have to see Harry Potter again. He was that mortified.

He quickly tore the remaining leather shoulder guards off. "I'll shower first and then you can have it," he said. Harry still had all his gear on and Draco desperately wanted to not be in the room in case Harry decided to comment on the little moment they'd just had. Most of him would rather not know that Harry thought it was an accident, wrong, stupid or otherwise disgusting.

"I'll…err…I'll shower back in my rooms, I have a…I'm meeting someone shortly."

"You have a…date?"

Draco searched out Harry's eyes.

"Yeah, kind of," Harry replied.

Well, fuck. What was all that about his smiles and the almost kiss then, if Harry had a date? All these months of Harry practically throwing himself at Draco and now he has a date? This getting to know him, working together, looking after him when his father died was all just…nothing? Draco was actually incredibly hurt.

"I see," he replied loftily, flipping his hair back - nonchalantly he hoped - though his jaw was so clenched the word sounded like it was being dragged over gravel. "I have an appointment this evening, as well. See you round, Potter." Draco stood and held his head high and walked through to the shower, not stripping off his clothes until he was under the hot spray of water.

It was all hopeless. He was hopeless. Only he could move from hating the very air that Potter breathed to having a raging crush on the man because he'd been kind and considerate. Potter had been a friend and Draco had pushed him away at every turn. Why on earth should he have expected Potter to be any more than the friendly person he was? He'd expected it because people were not usually kind and considerate towards him. They were usually polite.

Draco stood under the shower, stunned. Polite was a whole lot different than kind and considerate. Even Pansy was not kind and considerate and she was pretty much his only friend. What did that say about him? It had not escaped him that Potter had many friends and had managed not to fall for any of them.

With an angry flick of his wrists he turned the water off and dried himself roughly. It was a bad idea to go to Guardian angry, but he couldn't help himself; he was beginning to shake with tension and self-loathing. Belligerence would not be tolerated and would be punished; he knew that. He was so full of anger and jealousy that he didn't care, instead willed it to be harsher. It was a sick addiction anyway.

Even wearing the collar around his neck didn't help tonight. The usual calm thoughts and sense of security he felt when wearing the collar brushed against his jealousy and anger and sizzled away to nothing, leaving him with the hurt. He approached Guardian looking to provoke something, anything to cover these awful feelings he had rolling around inside him.

"Guardian," he snapped in greeting, knowing that would be classed as disrespectful and he'd probably draw some punishment. He hadn't even lowered his eyes and he stood in front of the Dom with his arms crossed, defiance painted in every inch of his body and attitude.

"Are you sure you wish to be here tonight, Angel?" Guardian asked, a warning clear in his tone. But Draco ignored it, needing to take his fury out on someone. At least with Guardian he knew where he stood; he knew the boundaries and stepping over them, knew the consequences. Not like with Potter. Let your guard down with him and your heart seemed to pay the price.

"What the fuck do you think?" Draco raged. "I don't come here for you to be nice to me, I come here for you to fucking hurt me so much I can't think. Where there's no room for Harry fucking Potter to move in and take up residence in my fucking chest as someone to consider important." He was aware he was ranting and probably making no sense to the Dom, though he did know about how irritating the git Potter was.

Guardian was just standing there, staring at him, hands on hips and concern rising from him like hot steam. Where did he get off being concerned for Draco's state of mind? He was being paid to dominate Draco and that's what he fucking should be doing! Not standing there acting like he fucking cared! No one fucking cared about Draco Malfoy.

Draco's shoulders dropped. "I should have known better that to try and get along with that stupid fucking Gryffindor. We are nothing alike; he's a fucking ball of fire and I'm nothing but a damned cold hearted ice freak with a sick predilection to pain. You're just as bad," Draco continued to mouth off, ripping off his collar and flinging it at Guardian, cursing himself for the 'Gryffindor' slip but not stopping to give Guardian time to think on it. "You're hiring yourself out like a common whore and expecting me to wear this…this…collar like you own me, like you have any fucking say over me or my actions."

Guardian used that moment to make his move. He said nothing; Draco didn't need him to say anything and he was strangely grateful to this man for not throwing him out, nor taking the opportunity to lay into him with a savage beating, but retaining the presence of mind to strap Draco to the frame like it was a normal session. Draco's scalp felt the pain of having his hair yanked as he was dragged to the frame, though and he hissed, partially for the sting but mostly for the relief. It didn't stop him cursing Guardian, though.

He kept expecting Guardian to gag him; maybe he would have welcomed that. It was also an indication of just how much he'd come to like Potter if he was getting this upset over a kiss that almost-was-but-was-never-going-to-be. He'd never let loose his temper like this before with Guardian.

Now he was trembling in anticipation; the curses had dried up for now; he'd got his way and he was waiting for Guardian to administer copious amounts of pain so he could forget what a damned fool he'd made of himself with Potter. Guardian had ripped his shirt open and bunched the loose tatters up on his shoulders.

"Why are you here, Angel?"

The man was infuriating! Draco had already told him why he was here!

"I wanted you to hurt me, you bastard," Draco yelled back.

"What was it that I said the last time you came here claiming only to want me to hurt you?"

"I don't know! What the fuck are you on about?" Draco said, struggling in the restraints now, trying to turn around and glare at Guardian. He only partially managed and was just in time to see the cane come whipping towards his back. He closed his eyes and tensed as the stinging across his shoulders as the cane hit the fleshier area felt like it was burning a hole in his skin, and he let out a low grunt of pain.

"I told you it was my pleasure that counted here and not yours and I warned you not to assume what I would want." Another whack with the cane in a similar place caught Draco unaware and he yelped. "Do you remember now?"

Draco nodded, not trusting his voice or his mouth not to run away with him and accuse Guardian of ripping him off and not giving him what he came for. Hands at his waist surprised him, until they began to undo his trousers and then he panicked a little, because he'd never been whipped naked before.

"I've warned you about answering a direct question with a verbal answer." Draco's trousers were pulled down to his knees and his underwear followed. It made him stop struggling, his breath sounding heavy in his ears. "This last omission has earnt you your punishment on the bare skin of your arse and legs. I'm going to be painting them beautifully red for the whole room to see and admire. Do you think you'd like to be admired, Angel?"

Draco whimpered and clenched his buttocks. Guardian, the bastard, was using his love of attention and teaming it with his need for pain and his wish to be dominated - as a way to calm him down while giving him an avenue of release. The tears had already started in the corners of Draco eyes when he whispered a ragged "Yes," in response to Guardian's question.

One stroke of the cane thwacked loudly across his bum. He groaned, clenching harder and trying to escape the stinging, knees bouncing and face scrunched against the pain.

"Now, again, why are you here tonight?"

"S-sorry, Guardian," Draco stammered. "I wanted… I…" Draco couldn't finish; he wasn't sure what the truth was as to why he was here.

Another swing of the cane and there was burning across his bottom again and this time he yelped louder, twisting as far away as he could.

"I'm here for your pleasure," Draco shouted.

And again the cane came down on his buttocks and Draco cried out.

"What is my pleasure?"

"I don't know."

"You assumed my pleasure would be to hurt you again, Angel, just like the last time."

Once more the cane cut across Draco's legs and he screamed as the pain shot straight to his groin.

"You always hurt me," he said, voice uneven.

"My pleasure is to give you what you need. What is it that you need, Angel?"

"To be hurt," Draco insisted.

The sting of the next stroke across his bum ached deep in his bones. His skin felt like it was swollen and burning, ready to break and peel back, exposing the bruised flesh underneath.

"Why to be hurt? And tell me the truth."

"So I don't hurt anymore on the inside." Draco was sobbing now, his admission dragged from him before it was formulated properly. Even so, amidst his tears and the bursts of agony across his skin, he knew it was right. As close to the truth as Guardian was ever going to get. Draco gave in and let the tears fall down his face, allowing all his grief free expression.

"What happens after I hurt you?" Guardian's voice was soft, now.

"You comfort me?" It was almost a question, expelled from an aching throat.

"Is that what you want, then?"

"Yes," Draco sobbed again. "I want you to comfort me so I don't feel so bad."

Draco felt a hand running through his hair and it felt like it was being pushed back off his face, but his head was hung low and his tears were so heavy that he barely moved, only to try and nuzzle into the gentler touch. The blooms of pain across his back had settled to dull aching now but he could feel each stroke as a brand across his skin.

"We're not finished yet, Angel."

Whimpering, more tears falling and his throat convulsively swallowing, he nodded and tried to whisper, "Yes, Guardian," but he was sure that whatever came out was incoherent and thick. Guardian's hand smoothed its way down Draco's back and over his bottom, rubbing on the sore places, which built the throbbing between his legs to a point where Draco groaned. Guardian had never touched him before quite like this, as Draco had generally been clothed.

Too soon, though, the warm hand was replaced by the cutting of the cane across already bruised and aching skin, and Draco cried out anew at the infliction of the pain.

"Do you like pain, Angel?"

"Yes."

Crack. Another stroke across the backs of his legs and they trembled with the effort of remaining upright. He bounced around on them best as he could, biting his lip to stop from screaming.

"Why?"

"B-because…it makes me feel s-strong w-when I t-take everyth-thing you g-give me," Draco stammered, his sobs taking over now.

"You like feeling strong and able to control things don't you?"

Another stinging crack across his buttocks made Draco whimper, the pain of each stoke fading into the already throbbing burning pain he was experiencing. When he didn't answer straight away, Guardian laid another stroke across the same place reminding him to answer verbally.

"Yes" he whispered. While his position indicated that he was submissive and not in control of anything, Draco knew that wasn't true. He still had his safe word and thus the power to stop the punishment he was receiving.

It was a testament to how far he'd come, when he never once thought to use it. Instinctively, he knew that this session was the one where he faced all his antipathy about accepting that he might like this side of his personality and didn't need to be ashamed of it anymore.

"You also know that you can't control everything, that sometimes it's all right to for someone else to take control."

"Yes," he whispered again, his throat too full of tears and relief to be any louder.

"And that it doesn't mean you are weak or deviant for liking it, does it?"

"No." Draco shook his head as best he could, tears dripping off his chin and onto the floor. The more he shook his head, the more he realised that Guardian was right. He wasn't weak, he was able to take anything that Guardian dished out and he'd never once used his safe word, never once given in. If he could be that tough on himself in this, why couldn't he be that tough regarding Harry? If he wanted him, why couldn't he fight for him?

"Good," Guardian whispered, running both hands over Draco's sore bum, making him both wince and groan as the touches fed his flagging arousal. "You've done so well, Angel, I'm very proud of you. I'm just going to leave you here for a few moments to gather yourself and then I'll take you down and we'll talk."

Draco nodded, breathing deeply, as his underwear and trousers were pulled up carefully and fastened. There were those words again; the ones that made his chest expand in satisfaction. Guardian was proud of him. He felt so relaxed and, despite the arousal, that was slowly fading once more, he felt oddly sated. His anger had gone and he could think more clearly now. As he stood there, trembling slightly still from the intensity of the caning he felt whole. Guardian had taken care of him, broken him and had already formed the base of putting him back together again.

After a few minutes when Draco sighed a deep sigh, Guardian was behind him undoing the restraints and leading him to the couch, where he sat down and pulled Draco into his lap. Draco was used to this and although his sore bottom and legs protested at first, he eventually settled into Guardian's lap and rested against his chest.

It was intimate beyond the money Draco paid, because he could not fail to become emotionally charged by their sessions and he knew Guardian needed the aftercare as much as Draco did. If the pain was the shattering, both receiving and administering, then the after care was the healing.

"Now, tell me what happened that caused you to come to me like this."

So, Draco told him of how annoying Potter was and how every time they met he managed to get under Draco's skin, but how since working with him everyday he'd come to see him in a different way, as, grudgingly, someone he might be able to get along with. How that had developed into a crush and how their 'almost kiss' moment was interrupted and Harry ran off for a date with someone else.

"And you don't like letting this Harry see how much he's affected you?"

"No, I don't like to be seen as vulnerable in front of him, though somehow he managed to be there when I found out my father died and he was wonderful. Never threw my tears back in my face or anything. I think it was then, I discovered that maybe if I changed my attitude like he seemed to have changed his, then there might be a way we could be friends at least. By then, of course, I had a raging crush on the man. Not that I'll ever admit that to anyone."

"What do you want from him, Angel?" Guardian's hand was rubbing along Draco's arm and it felt very casual, but safe and protective, too. It made him relax and talk more. After today's session, Draco thought many things in his life might never be the same again.

"Whatever he can give me." Draco sniffed, still thinking he'd made a fool of himself with Harry. "I want him to make me feel good," he finished.

"Don't you think you should tell him this?" Guardian was playing with Draco's hair now, threading his fingers through it and it felt wonderful.

"That I have a crush on him? I don't know. Think it will do any good?" Draco replied, shaking his head a fraction, before leaning into the hand caressing his head through his hair.

"I don't know, I don't know him but what can it hurt? At least you would know how he felt and wouldn't come storming back here every time he goes out on a date."

"True," Draco replied, smiling. "I think, maybe I can accept his friendship if that's all he can offer me. I don't need to hate him anymore." Draco was not used to making adjustments like this. In other parts of his life if he wanted something he got it, bought it, took it, manipulated things to get it, but to actually think of someone else first that weren't his parents or Pansy? That was a first for Draco, but he felt at peace for the first time in a long time and able to cope with the decision.

"Life is too short for hate, Angel," Guardian said and Draco nodded but didn't reply, content to lean against him and just enjoy his comfort.

.o0o.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Minerva called out to Draco as he was making his way from the Great Hall to try and catch Harry after dinner the following day.

In what had turned out to be an unwise move, he had decided to continue with his habit of taking meals with the rest of the school in the Great Hall even without Harry dragging him there forcibly. However, a reminder of the activities of the previous night in the matter of a sore bottom that still ached when he sat on it, made him wish he'd reverted back to his old habit of eating alone. But he'd wanted to try and catch Harry; had been trying to speak to him all day, but he'd always had someone with him, or been busy in class. And now he would disappear once more because the headmistress was detaining him.

He put the best face on the situation and turned to reply to her, noting that there was a small smile upon her face. He knew she must have good news. Minerva McGonagall did not smile unless things were very good, indeed.

"Yes, Minerva, what can I do for you?"

"You can congratulate yourself, Draco. I had word from the Cannons scout today, advising us that they'd decided to offer Mr. O'Halloran a place on their team as a reserve to their reserve Seeker now rather than wait until after pre season training."

"That's terrific news! I bet he's over the moon about it."

"I would assume so, I am on my way to give him the good news now. I wanted to congratulate you and Mr. Potter for putting aside your differences and working together so well. The results have been much better for all our Quidditch teams and there has been much more improvement than there would have been had you worked separately. You are both to be commended."

Draco inclined his head in thanks at the compliment, realising that her words were true. They had worked together so well and accomplished more than either of them would have been able to on their own.

"I'm on my way to see Harry now, I'll pass on your congratulations," Draco said. Minerva reached out and patted his shoulder and looked at him over her glasses.

"Very well. Good evening, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco watched her walk away, already thinking of breaking the news to Harry.

Luckily, he found him in his rooms, though he took so long to answer the door that Draco thought he wasn't there after all. When Harry finally did open the door, Draco found himself unable to find anything smart or sarcastic to say. Perhaps the enormity of what Draco had wanted to speak with him about had cut the lines of communication between his brain and his mouth. Harry didn't look any different than normal, which Draco was happy about, because he'd half expected some traces of embarrassment from the almost-kiss from the night before and the way in which Draco had left.

"Draco? What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"Minerva stopped me on the way out of the Hall at dinner to tell me that the Cannons had offered O'Halloran a position now. They discussed it further and want to offer him the position before pre season training." Suddenly Draco was extremely grateful that he actually had news to impart, or else he might have stood there staring at Harry and looking like a fool.

Harry's face broke into a smile. "Really? That's fantastic. This calls for a drink. You coming in?"

It took Draco about a second to make up his mind. A drink with Harry might make it easier to deal with the other reason he was here. He nodded. "A drink would be lovely."

Harry stepped aside to let him in and a few moments later, they were seated in armchairs raising a toast to their coaching skills.

"I think we made a good team," Harry said, sipping his Firewhisky.

"I agree," replied Draco. "I think because we're so competitive with each other it makes both of us work harder, which means that everyone else benefits from it as well."

"There is that, but I think it's probably more that you work well devising the plays, strategising and picking the student's strengths and weaknesses and I work best at putting your plans into action, showing the students the plans and working with them in different ways depending on their personalities."

Draco grinned. "No wonder we're so formidable. We should buy one of the professional teams and coach it. We'd be unbeatable."

"I never thought of that," Harry said, clearly surprised. "Which is not surprising, because you've hardly given me the time of day since you came here. I didn't think you could stand to be near me and the only reason you put up with me was for the Quidditch."

Draco felt his face heat up and cursed his pale skin. "I admit that's how it was at first, but all that changed the moment you held me when I heard the news about my father."

"I gathered." Harry's voice was softer and when Draco looked up at him, his face still warm, Harry's eyes matched his voice. Draco inhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said sincerely, not losing contact with Harry's eyes. "I thought we had a moment there and then when you said you had a date, I became jealous and angry."

Harry placed his drink on a side table and stood up, moving to stand in front of Draco. He held out his hands. "We did have a moment and I think we should finish it."

For a long minute Draco examined Harry's face, searching for a hint of mockery or a clue as to Harry's emotional state, but he could only see honesty and openness. If he did this, and he wanted to desperately, then there'd be no more Guardian. He'd miss the Dom, but whatever this was with Harry seemed to be a step in a new direction that only needed him to take the chance and believe it could work to be as fulfilling as anything he'd ever felt before.

Smiling, he grabbed Harry's hands and stood, moving effortlessly into his arms, their lips meeting in a kiss that seemed to meld the two of them together. Draco's hands, freed when Harry wrapped his arms around his waist, slid up over his chest and shoulders to bury themselves in Harry's messy, gorgeously soft hair and Draco groaned at how silky it felt even as his mouth was being devoured by Harry's hungry one.

As first kisses went, Harry was making Draco feel like he'd never been kissed before, ever. His lips were demanding, but not so brutal they crushed Draco's attempts to kiss back, rather they took what they wanted leaving Draco thinking he'd offered. Harry tasted like the Firewhisky he'd been drinking and that only made Draco heady on the fumes and virtually melt into Harry, kissing him back hungrily.

When they finally broke for air, Harry's forehead rested on Draco's and he was breathing heavily.

"Oh, Merlin we should have done that years ago," Draco whispered croakily, his throat too constrained with emotion to speak clearly.

"Well, I've been waiting a long time for that," Harry replied, just as husky. "Just had to wait for you to come around."

Draco smiled, an odd confidence building in him about the strength and quality of this, whatever this was. The building blocks of a relationship, perhaps? "Now that I have, I rather like where I am."

"Finally." Harry grinned and kissed him again, leaving Draco as breathless as before.

"And I think we should make up for lost time," Draco added, eyes closed leaning into Harry like he needed to hold on, to stay upright.

"I'd like that," Harry replied, pulling back a little, a smile on his face. "Close your eyes for me for a second, will you?" Harry softened his demand with tender kisses to the corner of Draco's mouth.

"All right," Draco replied, smiling a little in confusion. He did as he was asked and pouted slightly as Harry pulled away and out of his arms. "You're not leaving are you?"

"Hardly," Harry answered. "I have a surprise for you." Harry's voice sounded nervous, as if he wondered if Draco would like it.

"I love surprises. It is a good surprise and not one of those that ends up with me standing here covered in dragon droppings, is it?" He was joking of course; he knew that Harry was not that sort of person.

Harry just laughed and Draco could hear him opening a drawer and closing it again. Heard him moving behind Draco and mumbling a spell under his breath. Then he sensed more than felt arms or hands in front of his face and then something being placed around his neck. He was just about to say something when a very familiar voice whispered into his ear.

"You left this with me last night, Angel. I'm glad I have the opportunity to return it to you."

Guardian.

Draco's knees felt weak and he knew his mouth dropped open because he was gasping breaths of air, trying to inhale past the shock. He raised a shaky hand to feel the collar as it sat snugly around his throat. Where it belonged. Draco was so stunned he couldn't even think straight.

Harry's hands on his shoulders turned him around to face him and Draco looked up into eyes that were wary of the reception the news would receive.

"How?" was all Draco could say but it contained several other questions as well and Draco couldn't even think of the implications. Harry had been Guardian all along! Harry had been the one to break him and put him back together again. Treated him with respect and concern and given him what he needed, both as Guardian and, as he now realised, himself, too.

"A simple voice charm," Harry replied, removing it. "And I always wore a mask and a glamour for my eyes."

Draco nodded, still too shocked to speak much. "But why?"

Harry shrugged. "It's just a part of who I am. I live too much of my life under someone else's rules, letting other people dictate to me how I should behave, I wanted something that was mine."

Swallowing, and then breathing deeply again, Draco opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat closing over as tears threatened to take over. If he wanted, he could have everything he ever wanted but could not admit to. He should be feeling betrayed that Harry had kept his Guardian identity a secret but he was too happy that his two worlds were diverging so completely perfectly together to care.

"You're not angry with me?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head, unable to speak. Instead he fell into Harry's arms and hung on so tight, willing the trembling to stop. "Harry…Thank you."

Harry's arms wrapped themselves around him and just held him while he shook. Memories of the past months swept through Draco's trembling form and he could quite clearly see he had known that in returning to Hogwarts, he would find the way to becoming whole. All it took was a desire to move beyond the past and believe that they were better together than they ever would be apart. Despite being so different. Harry was like oil, smooth and silky, predictable unless ignited and then he burned with a passion, hot and fiery. And then there was himself, cool and sweet like water, contained easily, but when unleashed, created a storm of emotions and steamy desire. Together they could be amazing.

And then Draco remembered that Guardian – Harry – had been the only one in his life that had ever told him they'd been proud of him. Oh…

Draco finally looked up into Harry's face and smiled. "I'm sorry, it's all just a bit overwhelming, you know?"

"I know." Harry leaned down and kissed him tenderly. "You have no idea how often I wanted to kiss you and hold you. Every time you came to see Guardian you were so fucking beautiful, I wanted to take you somewhere away from all the eyes and make you mine."

"And now?" Draco's heart was in his mouth.

Harry gave Draco a radiant smile and picked him up. He carried him to the bed and placed him right in the middle. Draco grinned and his arms came up to wrap around Harry's neck but Harry took hold of his wrists and pinned them above Draco's head, leaving him squirming around under Harry's welcome weight.

"And now you're wearing my collar, so you get to do as I say." Harry's evil grin set off streams of arousal that flooded his body heading straight for his groin. Oh, yes, this was his place. Right here, under his Harry, being made love to.