Beltane Magic

by germankitty aka Dagmar Buse

Harry learns about the various ways to celebrate Beltane – and it's the Purebloods who are teaching him! H/D relationship, non-explicit

Disclaimer: JKR's sandbox; I only play in it, borrowing her toys for free. I'll put them back (almost) as I found them once I'm done, promise!

Author's Note: Written for the 2013 HDS_Beltane Fest on LiveJournal, to a prompt by Lomonaaeren

Moar A/N: The blessings and descriptions of Beltane customs and rituals (which I knew next to nothing about beforehand) in this fic come from various online sources, most notably several pages on the Paganism/Wicca Guide; blogs by Lady Caer Morganna, Pendencrystals and Lyra Silverhawk as well as from "Luna's Grimoire" and Wikipedia. I have taken some small liberties with what I found there, and mixed things around and up to suit the purposes of my story; no disrespect to practicing Pagans/Wicca was intended.

Beltane Magic

1 May 2004: A Family Celebration

Six years after the defeat of Voldemort, on Beltane Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy became friends.

And it was all because of Teddy Lupin – Godson to one, cousin to the other. The boy had just turned six, and Andromeda Tonks decided it was time to familiarize her grandson with some of the old Pureblood traditions she had grown up with – and as Teddy's Godfather, she decreed that Harry might as well learn along with him.

Not that Harry was opposed to the idea in principle; after all, he'd often secretly bemoaned the fact that growing up without his parents (or at least his father's friends), he'd missed out on so many things he felt he ought to have known about the Wizarding world. Not only would things have gone much smoother at Hogwarts, it would also be easier for him in his work at the Ministry. He'd learnt early in life not to cry over spilt milk and made do, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy sharing something so profound to a young Wizard from one of the best. Andromeda might have married a Muggleborn, but at heart she still was – and would always be – the oldest living descendant of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Toujours Pur, and all that.

The first of the old traditional festivals Andromeda had introduced them to, Imbolc on February 1, had been fun. They'd visited Wookey Hole in Somerset for a Holy Well during the day and returned home to Andromeda's house in the early evening, to light candles in front of the fireplace and share a delicious meal. Harry understood that Beltane was going to be a bit more involved and elaborate, and he was fine with that. However, when Andromeda started to tell him what, exactly, Beltane was all about, and the day's significance in Wizarding culture, he was completely and utterly flabbergasted.

"Wait, you mean six-year-old kids do that kind of thing? In public, with their families looking on?!" Harry gasped once Mrs. Tonks' explanation of what customs and rituals were traditionally associated with the festival had sunk in. "Aren't they way too young to, erm …" His fierce blush betrayed Harry's thoughts better than any words could've done.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Andromeda chided him firmly. After six years of sharing the raising of Remus' son, Harry knew her well enough to realize that she was too polite to roll her eyes at him in exasperation.

*Doesn't mean that she isn't doing it anyway, where I can't see.*

"You did say Beltane is all about, erm, fertility," he mumbled, squirming in embarrassment.

"It is – but you seem to be under the misapprehension that 'fertility' only pertains to human reproduction and the ways in which that goal can be attained."

*Damn Ravenclaws!* Forget embarrassment, this was sliding fast into serious awkwardness. "Uh, it's not?"

"Of course not. Despite the wider connotation, Beltane is first and foremost a family celebration, and this one specifically is set up for children below Hogwarts age. They will be introduced to some of the traditional elements pertaining to fertility, naturally, but the children will do nothing more scandalous" – here, Andromeda gave Harry a Look that made him duck his head – "than sing a few songs, plant seedlings, dance around the maypole and share milk and oatcakes. Oh, and maybe hang a few nesting boxes to attract birds."

"Oh. That's okay then," Harry smiled sheepishly, relief spreading through him. "And here I thought …"

"I know very well what you thought, young man," Andromeda interrupted. For a moment, Harry found himself face-to-face with all the authority of a Family Matriarch and the centuries of tradition Andromeda was able to call upon if needed. He didn't stand a chance. "And it's nothing I want my grandson to learn!"

"No, Mrs Tonks. I completely agree," Harry replied hastily. The rebellious part of his mind reminded him that he was, in fact, twenty-four years old and a fully-qualified Auror, not one of Teddy's playmates, Andromeda certainly wasn't his grandmother (and not even related to him), so he didn't have to defer to her. But another, louder voice (which Harry suspected represented the saner part of his psyche) countered that she'd also become a second mother figure to him alongside Molly Weasley and was really helping him a lot to understand the higher echelons of Wizarding society and had never once blamed him for the deaths of her husband, daughter and son-in-law. In short, she'd been generally very good to him since the War, the voice told him firmly, so he'd better learn to keep such thoughts to himself. Or Else.

Harry had grown wise enough to listen to that voice.

"How many times have I told you now to call me Andromeda? No, don't answer that; just see that you finally remember. Anyway, I certainly have no objection to you taking Teddy under your wings once he is old enough," the older woman blithely derailed his train of thoughts as she continued. "After all, it would hardly be proper for me to teach the boy."

Harry felt his relief melt like snow in spring and speedily put down the teacup he'd been sipping from since Andromeda had started telling him about Beltane. He had a feeling he wouldn't be able to hold the delicate china much longer. "Teach him what?" he all but squeaked.

"Why, about sex," Mrs Tonks said matter-of-factly. "After all, we've already established that Beltane is about fertility. And traditionally, it's the male relation closest in age to a young Wizard who has the duty – and honour – of introducing him to the … shall we say, more esoteric? … aspects of our rituals." How she managed to say all that with a straight face, Harry would never know. Had the Widow Tonks just told him to tell his Godson about the birds and the bees?! Or worse, give him some kind of hands-on lesson? *How … appropriate.*

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry sighed.

All things considered, Harry shouldn't have been surprised that Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had been invited to attend Teddy's first Beltane ritual, as well. Apparently, it was quite An Occasion for a Wizarding child, and they were actually related by blood – even if his status as the boy's Godfather trumped Malfoy being his cousin once removed. *Family. Right. Okay, makes sense.*

It really wasn't surprising that the erstwhile Black sisters had reconciled after the War; they had both lost too many people not to cherish who they had left. Harry was totally on board with that. Of course, it helped that Lucius was still in Azkaban and that Narcissa spent a good portion of each year at a lesser Malfoy residence in the south of France, but Harry really should have realized that she would eventually try to restore the Malfoy family name if only for her beloved son … and she couldn't do that from abroad, now could she?

Thus it came about that Draco Malfoy was very much present when Harry showed up late on this Saturday afternoon to accompany Teddy, his grandmother and great-aunt to the private estate where the children would celebrate Beltane.

*We don't have to be friends. But I can be polite.*

"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry nodded. "Malfoy."

"Potter," Malfoy nodded back, while Narcissa, much to Harry's discomfort, greeted him not only with a handshake, but a half-hug that ended with a friendly peck on the cheek. The gray eyes of his erstwhile nemesis watched with faint amusement how the simple gesture flustered Harry. Harry cleared his throat.

"Yeah, erm, well, shall we go?" he stammered.

"Yeth!" Teddy, whose lisp due to missing both upper front teeth got worse the more excited he was, almost managed to dash out the front door into the gathering twilight when a deft flick of Malfoy's wand caught him in a Tethering spell. "Aww, couthin Dracooooo!" the boy whined.

"Jacket first," Malfoy told him with a stern glance. "It's going to be dark before we go back, and you'll catch cold in your dance costume without it."

Grumbling just a little, Teddy grabbed his jacket from the coat tree and brought it over to Harry. "Help me, pleathe, Harry?"

"Sure." As Harry assisted Teddy with zipping up his anorak, he had to grin when he heard Narcissa murmur to her sister.

"As if Draco hasn't heard the very same thing from Luc or myself every time we performed a ritual."

"Dora, too," Andromeda concurred equally sotto voce, with barely a hitch in her voice. "It's in the nature of children to be excited and impatient, I suppose."

If Harry hadn't been looking, he'd have missed the wry twist curling Malfoy's lips. And no, he didn't find the familiar mannerism attractive. He didn't! *Can't imagine old Lucius tolerating much of a child's impatience and enthusiasm,* he thought instead. And, *at least not from what I've seen Malfoy do at school.* Strangely, this realization went a long way to dispel the minor irritation he'd felt when he'd first seen who else Andromeda had invited.

His musings were interrupted as the small party made their way through the village towards the farm where the Beltane celebration would take place. The place belonged to the brother of Teddy's tutor, a warm-hearted woman in her late forties who lived in a spacious cottage at the edge of the property. Mrs. Goodall devoted herself to educating Wizarding children in preparation for Hogwarts, despite not being a very strong or powerful witch herself. Five years ago, she'd taken in a couple of children orphaned by Death Eaters in the War, and that venture had slowly grown into a primary school which Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley, among others, were attending. With all parents' approval, Mrs. Goodall taught not only academic basics to her charges, but also familiarized them with Wizarding traditions – like the night's very basic, child-friendly Beltane ritual.

Once they'd reached the pasture where the bonfire stood, ready to be lit, Teddy made a beeline towards his friends, and the adults mingled against the fence. There was no danger, and the children could work off at least some of their nervous energy before the ceremony. Harry was delighted to see Molly and Arthur Weasley in the crowd, remembering belatedly that Victoire, Bill and Fleur's daughter, was in Teddy's class, too. He excused himself to speak to the Weasley contingent. Much to his surprise, Malfoy followed him over. It turned out that he knew Bill and Fleur from working at Gringotts, if in different departments. Their greeting was even reasonably cordial, not like friends, but more than mere acquaintances. 'Colleagues' seemed to fit best, and a tension he hadn't known had settled in his shoulders gradually relaxed. Soon, though, he forgot everything else as Mrs. Goodall called everyone to attention and briefly explained what was to come.

Teddy and the other children had taken off their warm jackets and formed two rings around a ten-foot pole adorned with leafy birch twigs, boys on the outside and girls on the inside. They looked nice in matching white tunics over plain dark pants or skirts, the girls all wearing flowers in their hair, and the boys had two large handkerchiefs each tucked into their belts to use as props during the dance.

"Actually, it's more traditional to use short staffs," Malfoy remarked. Immediately, he became the recipient of Death glares from his mother, aunt and Molly. "What?"

Bill and Arthur snorted. "You really don't want to hand a bunch of rather sturdy sticks to a group of preteens and let them loose on each other," Arthur explained kindly. "That's usually regarded as a Bad Idea."

"You should've seen what my brothers and I got up to the one time Mother tried to get us to do a Beltane dance," Bill chuckled. "It was epic!"

"It was worse than a meeting of Slytherins and Gryffindors in an out-of-the-way corridor at Hogwarts after a Quidditch game," Molly said quellingly, making both Harry and Malfoy wince slightly while ruefully exchanging guilty looks. "Now hush, everybody, and pay attention – they're about to begin!"

The children had each taken up a wide colourful ribbon that was tied to a ring at the top of the pole. One of the adults started an easy beat on a bodhrán, and two more musicians joined in, playing a charming melody on flute and guitar. The little dancers started walking in opposite circles, performing simple hops and skips as they wove their ribbons in an elaborate pattern around the pole, chanting all the while.

"Welcome, spring!
The light has returned, and life has come back to the earth.
The soil is dark and full of energy,
so this evening we plant our seeds.
They will lie in the soil, taking root and growing,
until the time has come for them to meet the sun.
As we plant these seeds, we give thanks to the earth
for its strength and life-bringing gifts."

Malfoy had quietly wandered up to stand next to Harry. Both were watching Teddy wistfully, if for different reasons.

Harry was pleased and proud to take part in this celebration for his Godson, but couldn't help reflecting that here was yet another part of his heritage he'd missed out on because of Voldemort; if his parents had lived, would his father taught him Wizarding customs? Would he have had a similar initiation ceremony together with the Weasley kids, Neville or others? He'd never know. Malfoy, on the other hand, had concrete memories to draw on. "I used to hate doing that as a kid," he murmured into Harry's ear. "The times Vince, or Greg – or both – used to trip over their own feet, tangling the ribbons beyond hope and making us all tumble … it was pathetic."

No way was Harry going to comment on that; Vincent Crabbe's fall into the Fiendfyre still haunted his dreams, even six years later. Besides, Malfoy sounded more nostalgic than disparaging. So he chose to focus on the rather shocking fact that he actually might be engaging in a civil conversation with his schoolyard enemy instead.

"Really? It looks simple enough to me, and the kids seem to have fun," Harry remarked.

"Yes, because their teacher makes it fun," Malfoy said dryly. "We – meaning Pansy, Blaise and I – were taught by a professional dance master who was simply awful. All show, no substance, and hardly knew what he was talking about. Mind, the girls all seemed to like him, but … thinking back on it, he might well have been related to Lockhart; there was definitely a resemblance."

Harry barely suppressed a snort, earning a small grin from Malfoy in return. "Exactly. What's more, we then had to perform for a group of adults that included the cream of Pureblood Society … led, of course, by my esteemed father."

"Ouch." Harry winced; he'd seen first-hand to which standards of near-impossible perfection Lucius had often held his son and heir, and acknowledged, from an adult's perspective, that Malfoy's childhood hadn't been all cauldron cakes and broomsticks, either. "That would've made it anything but fun, right?"

"You have no idea."

"Oh, I don't know – I just might." Harry carried his own memories of relatives for whom he was never good enough, who criticized everything he did or said.

Malfoy looked at him speculatively. "Really?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then maybe … we should exchange stories one day?" At Harry's incredulous reaction, Malfoy shrugged. "I was thinking of maybe sharing a few amusing childhood episodes; surely even you've had a few of those despite growing up with those deplorable Muggles?"

"Well, yes, but …" *I just never thought you'd be interested in any of them.*

"Why wouldn't I?"

*Dear Merlin, did I say that out loud?* Harry mentally slapped himself before tuning back in to what Malfoy was saying.

"If you recall, I tried befriending you on the train. Rather clumsily, I admit, but …" Harry's skepticism must've showed, judging by the slight pink blush staining the pale cheeks. "Just think of it as indulging our inner Hufflepuffs. All in the interest of making it easier for Teddy, of course."

*Oh, for Teddy.* Harry could do that, and more, for his beloved Godson. Not because he'd fantasized a time or ten how things might've been/might be if the two of them were actually friends.

"Sure, why not? Drinks at the Leaky?"

There was a genuine smile flitting across the aristocratic features. "I'd suggest the buffet at La Porte des Indes up in Marylebone first, but we can discuss this later. Now watch, we must help Teddy with the next bit."

Indeed, the children's dance was over, and each child collected a small ceramic pot they'd been told to bring from home. Teddy's had once belonged to Ted Tonks' grandmother, a simple bowl patterned in geometric shapes and colours as bright as his ever-changing hair. The boys and girls carefully filled them with clean soil and the adults helped them plant a seed, adding a good pinch of dry natural fertilizer and water from their wands while the children invoked a blessing. When everything was neat and tidy, both Harry and Draco helped Teddy hold his pot, the small hands safely engulfed in their larger ones. Harry then reached down into his magical core, calling forth a small amount to channel into the pot while he recited the words Andromeda had taught him.

"Tonight we plant seeds in the earth,
but Beltane is a time in which many things can grow.
Tonight we plant seeds in our hearts and souls,
for other things we wish to see blossom."

All around them, parents were doing the same for their children, soft male and female voices creating a canopy of love and protection.

*Remus and Tonks should be doing this for Teddy, not me and Malfoy. I should be watching this from the sidelines, with the other family members and guardians!* For a few seconds, grief and regret almost overwhelmed Harry. Then he heard Malfoy's voice join in, blending seamlessly with his own.

"We plant the seeds of love, of wisdom, of happiness.
We dig deep, and begin a crop of harmony, balance, and joy.
We add water to bring life and abundance of all kinds into our homes.
We offer our wishes into the fire, to carry them out to the Universe."

And suddenly it was as if he could sense Remus' steady, calming presence as well as Tonks' irrepressible cheer surrounding them, watching … approving.

::You're doing a good job. Care for our son as we cared (would have cared) for you::

But when Harry looked up, there were no gentle brown eyes, no shock of pink hair. Instead, he met a pair of gray eyes across the tousled turquoise curls of a little boy. They were filled with the same determination he felt at that moment.

I care. I'll help. And then, a promise. Never again.

No other child would ever lose their parents to a madman bent only on destruction and world domination. No other childhood would be destroyed because the world either didn't care, was too afraid or, heaven forbid, tried to help that madman. Not if Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had anything to say about it.

The moment passed, and the children excitedly showed their painted pots to the rest of their families. Soon, darkness fell and the bonfire was lit; adults and children formed a procession around the pyre and at last each family left, carrying sleepy and happy youngsters off to their beds.

Much later, it occurred to Harry that the words they'd spoken together could also be applied to them, if they thought of friendship as a seed that needed to be planted, nourished and cultured.

1 May 2005: Not Quite A Great Rite

One year later, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy became lovers.

As it happened, Beltane fell on a Sunday in 2005, and that was why the formal celebrations at Malfoy Manor started the night before, on Walpurgis. Narcissa and Draco wanted not only to observe the traditions, it was also – in their minds – a fitting tribute to Lucius' release from Azkaban, seven years almost to the day after the Fall of Voldemort.

Friends or not, Harry had his doubts about coming to the Manor – he hadn't once set foot in the place since that one time during the War, when Draco had saved his life by not betraying him to the Death Eaters. But Draco insisted, and when Harry continued to balk, he resorted to typical, underhanded, sneaky, Slytherin practices.

He sent his mother.

"Nonsense. Of course you'll come."

Harry didn't want to be rude. After all, he owed Narcissa. Big time. Still …

"Really, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm honored. And I promise I'll visit one day," *– when hell freezes over, maybe – *"but I don't want to intrude on what's clearly a family celebration," Harry said, desperately trying to stave off certain disaster. Unfortunately for him, Narcissa had joined the circle of people who could read him like a book.

"Must I give you my Witch's Oath to make you believe that no harm will come to you at our home, Harry? From anyone?"

Meaning Lucius, of course. *Plus any of the old Pureblood crowd, I bet. Bloody fantastic.* Harry heroically refrained from grimacing.

"No, of course not."

"Then please honour Draco's – and my – request and share Beltane with us."

Harry could never resist the pleading in a beautiful woman's eyes. And despite being old enough – literally – to be his mother, Narcissa Malfoy Black was very beautiful. In a cool, slightly aloof way, but he could tell that she was looking at him with genuine warmth. The way she was sometimes looking at her sister, or Teddy. And Draco. Like he was … family.

*Oh damn.*

With true Gryffindor courage, Harry gave in to the inevitable.

"Alright," he sighed. "Thanks, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Call me Narcissa. And I'll see you on Saturday." With a small, ladylike pop, she Disapparated from his flat, leaving Harry to wonder how he could've stood up to Snape for six years of school, vanquished Voldemort and faced the entire Weasley Clan when he and Ginny called it quits on her twenty-first birthday (discovering on their night out that they were both ogling the same bloke had rather effectively scuppered any plans they might've harboured for a Christmas engagement), and yet couldn't resist one soft-spoken, elegant woman.

On second thought, that woman had lied in Voldemort's face without batting an eye … and after the War, pretty much singlehandedly held on to most of the Malfoy fortune, aside from genteelly turning her only son from a whiny prat into a man Harry was proud to call his friend. That soft, pretty, ladylike exterior hid a core of pure steel, and the Wizarding world would do well to remember that.

So it was that on April 30, Walpurgisnight, Harry showed up at the specified time of seven o'clock – too early for darkness to fall yet, but well in time to watch the Beltane rituals the Malfoys had set up for the occasion. He was dressed rather more formally than last year, but thankfully hadn't been required to don full dress robes. A traditional cloak, held at the throat by a clasp he'd inherited from his Godfather, over dress pants and shirt, was enough.

A gaunt, rather subdued Lucius welcomed him politely enough when Draco ushered him onto the terrace overlooking the vast garden. He was served with a traditional goblet of May Punch and as soon as the last guests had arrived, the whole group (which, to Harry's relief, included Kingsley Shacklebolt and his wife as well as a few other persons he knew from the Ministry) went outside to a stretch of open lawn ringed by tall bushes of rhododendron in full bloom. Draco had explained that while some parts of the ceremony might count as Ritual Magic, they wouldn't be performing a Great Rite, for which Harry was thankful. He had no objection to the concept as such, but absolutely no desire to share something this powerful and … well, intimate with his boss. Or Lucius. He shuddered inwardly at the thought.

Everybody lined up around the meadow's perimeter, and for the first time Harry noticed that each woman present wore spring flowers in their coiffures, and the men had boutonnières on their lapels. Feeling a bit awkward for being the only person without adornment, he was quickly relieved when Draco sent over a house elf who solemnly presented him with his own boutonnière. He discreetly affixed it with a mild Sticking Charm. They were then asked to choose an instrument each from an assortment of small drums. Not being much of a musician, Harry chose the simplest tambourine. Anticipation began to gather in the air.

Suddenly, Narcissa and Lucius appeared in the midst of the group, both now clad in white. Narcissa's hair flowed down her back in loose curls, and she wore a wreath that was made entirely out of several varieties of her namesake flower. To Harry, it looked almost like a crown. Lucius, however, wore a silver headdress with a pair of antlers attached. Harry had to turn away quickly to hide spontaneous laughter; he was irresistibly reminded of those silly felt reindeer antlers Muggles and kids bought at Christmas Fairs. *All that's missing is a battery-operated red nose that flickers off and on!*

"Mother and Father are representing the Queen of May and the God of the Forest," Draco murmured, coming once more to his side. Like his parents, he, too, had changed clothes and now wore black breeches with ribbons affixed below the knee, white stockings and a white linen shirt with billowy sleeves. Two wide bands of cloth crossed over both his chest and back, held together in the centre with simple rosettes. Not surprisingly, the ribbons and bandoliers were silver and green. In addition, Draco was carrying two staves carved into simple, elegant shapes. The outfit was very similar to something Harry thought he'd seen before, but couldn't quite place yet.

"I'm sorry I'll have to leave you by yourself a bit longer," Draco said. "But Father isn't strong enough yet to lead the dancing, so I'm filling in for him. And as the dancing is by invitation only, I can't ask you to join us, sorry."

"You know I'm not much of a dancer, so I don't mind," Harry replied, smiling at his friend. "Go ahead, I'm fine."

"Right. I'll see you once we're done."

Lucius and Narcissa stepped forward, speaking the traditional invocation in unison.

"Beltane is here! It is a time when the earth is fertile and full.
Long ago, our ancestors planted their fields at Beltane.
The fields that lay fallow for months are now warm and waiting.
The soil that was dormant for the winter now begs us to plant our seeds.
The earth is awakening and ripe, and this is a season of love and passion.
It is a season of fire."

A lively piece of music started to play from somewhere, and eight men of all ages assembled in front of the tall wood pyre, which Harry now saw was set up in a way that looked as if there was something resembling an archway right in the middle. At a barely-noticeable signal from his father, Draco and his seven companions started to dance.

As soon as he'd observed the first few measures, the elusive memory clicked, and Harry had to stifle yet another, near-hysterical giggle. Not only was Lucius Malfoy, aristocrat extraordinaire and former Death Eater, wearing a headband with antlers, he also used to be a Morris Dancer?! It was almost too much to take.

However, as he watched Harry recognized that this dance was quite different from the rather naff performances the old folks in Little Whinging had put on each year on the Commons around Easter. It was much less elaborate than Harry had expected; in fact, it reminded him strongly of the dance Teddy and his schoolmates had performed, but somehow the pattern of kicks, hops and jumps created more than the sense of joy and unity he remembered from the previous year. There was a gradual build-up of Power that was almost palpable, true Ritual Magic, and for the first time Harry understood the allure of Old Tradition. It was … seductive.

Watching Draco dance, following every move of the lithe, strong body with his eyes, Harry was more than willing to be seduced. So he gradually allowed himself to get lost in the beat, feeling it pulse through every fiber of his being as he wished and hoped.

At last, the music came to an end with a magnificent crescendo, all the dancers lining up in a row with their staves held cross-wise above their heads at a final, powerful stomp. In that moment of breathless stillness, both Narcissa lit a bundle of kindling that Lucius was holding out to her with her wand. Lucius then placed it into the wooden pyre, thus starting the Beltane fire.

"As our fires grow, lighting up the night sky, the fire within us grows stronger.
It is the fire of lust and passion, knowing that like the earth, we too are fertile.
Tonight, the God emerges from the forest. He is known by many names -
he is Pan, Herne, Cernunnos, the Green Man. He is the God of the Forest," Lucius recited.

"Tonight is the night he will chase and capture the maiden.
She is the Queen of the May, Aphrodite, Venus, Cerridwen.
She is the Goddess of fields and flowers, she is Mother Earth herself."

Narcissa finished the invocation as they moved to stand at opposite ends of the bonfire. The couple then spoke together in loud, clear voices.

"Bring fertility to the land! Let the hunt begin!"

Next, the oldest man present started to pick out a simple yet powerful beat on his drum. One by one, the rest of the men joined in, Harry finding it surprisingly easy to do, and the women clapped in time. As soon as the rhythm was well established, the 'hunt' began – May Queen and God of the Forest moved sunwise around the bonfire, in a rather elegant and genteel, even stately way as they wove through their guests, in a symbolic representation of the Hunt. The tempo of the beat as well as their movement gradually increased, and Harry snapped out of an almost-trance only when the drumming suddenly stopped after the third circuit was complete.

The timing was perfect; it was fully dark by now, and Lucius and Narcissa were standing together in front of the blazing fire, perfectly backlit. They were holding hands, May Queen caught by her Hunter, staring deeply into each other's eyes as they spoke the phrase to conclude the ritual.

"The earth is once more growing new life within! We shall be blessed with abundance this year!"

Everybody cheered, then Lucius and Narcissa came together in a long, passionate kiss.

"This is the point where I usually make myself scarce," Draco spoke quietly into Harry's ear, startling him with his sudden reappearance. "It's not as if I didn't know my parents love each other, or that I begrudge them their passion, and obviously they've, er, created me at one point, but …"

"They're your parents. I get it." Harry grimaced a little as pictures of his own parents, Remus and Tonks, or – worst of all – Arthur and Molly in a similarly passionate exchange crossed his mind in a lightning-quick sequence.

*Eww.*

"Not something I'd ever want to watch," he said with a small shudder, and the two shared an understanding look laced with mild filial revulsion.

"Yes. Quite."

They both turned to look at the bonfire once more. They'd been informed beforehand that refreshments would be served at the Manor, and they could see that the other guests were making their way back in small groups, but a few were drifting off into the less cultivated parts of the vast formal gardens – mostly couples, but there were a few threesomes as well. Harry refused to think about what these people would be up to for the foreseeable future – if he wasn't mistaken, the Shacklebolts had been joined by the senior Healer of the Pediatrics Ward at St. Mungo's, and no, he wasn't going to think about this anymore!

When the silence between them grew, Harry began to feel slightly nervous. Unconsciously, he started fingering the pattern on his cloak clasp – a depiction of the Canis Major constellation, its seven major stars being laid out in differently-colored facetted beryl stones. The biggest and brightest, representing the Dog Star after which Sirius had been named, was set with the rarest type of beryl, a clear red that had only been discovered shortly before Sirius had been born. Remus had once remarked that in retrospect, the Blacks' conceit of only buying the best (and most expensive) things just might've presaged their oldest son's House affiliation. Harry didn't think that he'd been entirely jesting, either – but he subdued the memory before he could get maudlin and cleared his throat. "So … what happens now?"

"Well … we can go back to the house and have more May Wine and oatcakes," Draco suggested, still staring into the flames. "Or we can walk in the garden a little."

"What about all those couples and moresomes who already have disappeared into the bushes, though?" Harry asked dryly. "As much as you don't want to watch your parents kiss, I don't exactly fancy coming upon my boss and his wife – and possibly someone else – doing whatever it is one does on Beltane eve."

"Beltane is a fertility festival," Draco reminded him with a small smirk. "Why shouldn't people have fun doing … whatever?"

"They can dance the limbo naked, for all I care, I just don't want to have to watch them do it," Harry declared firmly, once more instinctively running a fingertip over his cloak clasp. Suddenly, it was as if Sirius' shadow winked at him from within the blazing flames.

::Go for it, pup. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.::

Surprised and slightly disoriented, Harry's mouth unexpectedly overrode his brain. "Not if I can't have my own bit of fun, anyways."

*Huh. What a Marauder-type thing to say …*

Draco was suddenly very close, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Did you have something specific in mind?"

Harry gulped and blushed fiercely, but his eyes met Draco's unflinchingly.

"More like someone," he whispered somewhat hoarsely.

"Oh?" Draco's normally light voice had deepened with something more than just curiosity. If Harry wasn't mistaken – and he didn't think he was – there was a good deal of hope in the even tone.

The admonition he thought he'd heard earlier, whether it had truly been Sirius' spirit/ghost/whatever or not, echoed in Harry's mind, and he called up everything the Sorting Hat had seen in him of both Gryffindor courage and Slytherin cunning.

"Walk through the fire with me," he said softly, nodding towards the blazing Beltane fire. All the logs were burning now, but the way in which they'd been arranged had indeed created a gate right through the flames. It wouldn't be without danger to pass through, but if you were quick and didn't falter … it could be done.

Draco flinched.

"Harry, I … I don't know if I can," he murmured. "I want to, very much, but … I haven't been that close to fire since …"

Since That Night. Since Harry had flown them both away from the Fiendfyre Draco's friend had cast and perished in.

Harry understood perfectly. He was perhaps the only person Draco knew who could.

"We've beaten the flames once before," he reminded his friend. "And tonight, they aren't our enemy." He badly wanted to touch Draco, but held back. Suddenly it had become important, necessary even, that they do this. But it would have to be Draco's choice.

Indecision played across the pale features for a few more moments, then the hard-won steel core Draco had inherited from his mother reasserted itself.

"You're right."

"Then come on." He held out his hand to Draco, in an unconscious echo of the gesture he'd refused so many years ago on the Hogwarts Express. Draco accepted without hesitation.

Hand in hand they approached the bonfire right at the archway. They'd have to be quick; the logs were ablaze all the way to the top, shooting sparks everywhere, and soon there would be no way to get through the fire without serious injury. Heat made the air around them waver, and Harry gave Draco's hand a firm squeeze.

"Fire and passion, love and life, brought together as one," he quoted. "Beltane is for new beginnings, remember?"

"It was I who taught you, Potter," Draco replied, but there was no malice in his voice, just acceptance. And maybe more than a hint of anticipation.

Harry's heart began to hammer. "Let's do this. On three?"

"Yes."

Together, they sprinted forward, into the fire ... and through.

Much later, they stood under the trailing branches of a willow tree. Across the ornamental pond it was planted at, they could see the windows of the Manor lit brilliantly against the night sky. Their hands were still linked.

"You are sure about this?"

"Very much."

"Just checking. Come here, you."

They kissed gently at first, then with rising passion. Lips opened, tongues tangled, and they tasted of each other until they were breathless with desire.

"Mmm. More!"

"What, right here?"

"Merlin, yes!"

A mattress was Conjured – no mere blanket for a Malfoy – and they sank onto it. Clothes disappeared, and hands began to roam over arms and chests. Gradually, they ventured lower, teasing nipples into hardness as they sought out ever more sensitive spots on each other's bodies.

"Do that again."

"What, this?"

"Aaah. Yes, that!"

They brought each other to completion with hands and mouths, learning what brought the most pleasure, which areas to treat carefully, and how to make the other shiver and moan in helpless ecstasy. The first rays of dawn crept through the trees; the music had long stilled, and the bonfire was dying down, but under the willow's branches, bodies still burned and hearts were joined.

"Let me make love to you?"

"I thought we already had …"

"Not completely."

"Oh."

"I won't hurt you; promise."

"I know you won't."

"So? Can I? Please?"

"Yes. Please."

So Harry lay down on his back as Draco prepared him with careful fingers, Conjured lube easing the way until he was ready. It hurt a little when he was spread open; more when Draco entered him fully, but soon they found the right angle, the perfect rhythm, and every thrust forward, every smooth backward glide brought them closer until pain and discomfort were only a dim, almost-forgotten memory. He shouted inarticulately when his climax finally crested, shaking all over, but Draco was there with him, holding him, loving him until he, too, tumbled over the precipice into satiated stillness.

"Will we do this again next year?" Harry mumbled around a yawn.

Draco chuckled against his neck, equally worn out. "I certainly hope so. And lots of times in between."

"Works for me."

"Mm. Go to sleep, Harry."

Within minutes, they both did.

Interlude: April 15, 2006

It was the day before Easter, and Draco had followed Harry to his Greenwich bachelor pad after meeting at Andromeda's house to have an early Easter egg hunt with Teddy. The boy had been properly enthusiastic, but exhausting, and Draco had hoped to spend some quality time with his lover, go out for dinner and maybe have a shag or three before they would be spending the holiday itself in Wiltshire (with his parents) and Devon (at the Weasleys) respectively. However, the best-laid plans …

"How in Merlin's name can you forget Beltane?!"

Harry winced at Draco's expression. He'd known this wasn't going to go over well with his partner, but at this late point in time, there was little he could do.

"After all, it's not as if Beltane were the main spring holiday."

Draco's tone wasn't much better; in fact, it was worse. All the weight of his traditional upbringing, his Pureblood heritage and his Malfoy arrogance coloured every syllable, making Harry feel like he was still that scruffy, ignorant eleven-year-old who'd encountered a poised, self-confident blond boy all those years ago at Madam Malkin's, not an adult and successful Auror.

Harry hated the feeling. Had hated it through seven years of school, and hated it still when his job sent him up against people who looked down upon him despite everything he'd ever done and achieved, just for having a Muggleborn mother and/or not having grown up a Wizard. All things he couldn't do a blasted thing about.

Under normal circumstances, Harry was able to shrug off the rare snide remarks, having gained enough self-confidence over the eight years since he'd defeated Voldemort to not let others' opinions influence him overly much. However, faced with Draco's not entirely unfounded wrath, it was all he could do not to squirm.

"I didn't exactly forget Beltane," he muttered, fighting down a guilty blush. "I just didn't remember the exact date."

"It's on May 1, like every year, Potter," Draco sneered. "It's a fixed holiday, like Christmas and New Year's – not moving around at random like Muggle Easter."

Harry opened his mouth to protest that Easter wasn't set randomly – he was sure he'd read about how that worked somewhere at some point, or maybe it had been the subject of a typical Hermione lecture once; either was equally likely – but the instinct he'd developed since being with Draco told him unequivocally that now most definitely was not the right time to bring up an ultimately irrelevant piece of Muggle culture trivia.

"I know that," he said sulkily instead.

"Then why did you forget?"

"I told you, I didn't remember," Harry repeated, rather defensively.

Draco's glare intensified. "Not remembering something is the generally accepted definition of forgetting, Potter!"

Wearily, Harry pushed up his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was an argument he knew he wouldn't win. "Look, Draco, I'm sorry," he sighed. "Can we please sit down and discuss this like the rational adults we're supposed to be? And not act as if we're still in school and hate each other?"

"I'm not at all sure I don't hate you right now," Draco huffed and glowered some more, but not even in full strop mode could he deny the sincerity in those green eyes. Adulthood and a demanding job may have taught Harry to control his body language and facial expression, but to someone who knew him as well as his lover – who was, after all, both a Malfoy and a consummate Slytherin – he was still pretty much an open book.

"I'm really, really sorry," Harry repeated, touching a smoothly-shaven cheek.

"Hmph."

It was time to regroup, and how better than over the classic British panacea?

"Shall I make some tea? The new First Flush Darjeeling is in, and I've bought a tin the other day …"

If there was one thing that could soothe the savage Malfoy, it was a new purchase from Twinings. The quaint shop had been situated in the same spot, on the Strand in Muggle London, for exactly three hundred years now, and while that number couldn't compete with an establishment like Ollivander's, Harry maintained that it would not at all look out of place on Diagon Alley. Draco had been quite dubious at first when Harry had taken him there, but had been happily sampling all of their various blends ever since.

"Are there at least biscuits?"

Harry permitted himself a small smile at the grumpy question, careful not to let Draco see.

"Haven't had time to bake myself, but we can take a few from the office stash; it was my turn to do the refill."

"At Fortnum and Mason's?" Draco might profess a lofty disdain for anything Muggle on general principle, but as with quality tea had equally glomped onto luxury baked goods. Especially if the packaging bore a Royal Warrant.

"For those bottomless pits at the office? Of course not. Just shortbread and Jaffa cakes from Tesco's."

"You should've gone at least to Marks & Spencer's," Draco complained even as he got out a platter from a cupboard and emptied a packet of each onto it. "Theirs are so much better than this 'house brand'."

Harry groaned laughingly at the by-now familiar argument, heated the teapot with a swish of his wand and poured boiling water over the tea leaves. Within minutes, they were seated in the breakfast nook just off Harry's kitchen.

"You're such a snob," Harry teased, watching Draco's grimace as he bit into the first biscuit. Tesco's house brand might not be up to Malfoy standards, but that didn't mean Draco would let sweets go to waste.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Draco mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs – something he would never dare to do in public, or – Merlin forbid! – in his parents' presence, but felt comfortable enough about when alone with Harry.

After tea and biscuits had served their purpose, Draco once again brought up the holiday.

"Why do you have to work on Beltane, anyway?"

Harry sighed. "As it happens, it's also a Muggle holiday – the May Bank Holiday, to be exact. It's always held on the first Monday of May … which this year just happens to coincide with Beltane."

"So? Since when does Magical Law Enforcement concern themselves with Muggle holidays? You never have before, as far as I recall."

"True, but this year their government is holding by-elections a few days later, on the Thursday following, and some political groups have announced plans to hold rallies and demonstrations on Monday. As I understand it, the whole May Bank Holiday weekend is kind of traditional for this sort of thing."

Draco shrugged indifferently. "And that concerns us how?"

Harry grimaced. "There've been indications that some Wizards might try to influence the election outcomes by using mind control on key Muggles," he said, lowering his voice confidentially. Chances to be overheard were low, but it didn't pay to be careless. "We've had a few incidents in the past – MLE tends to take notice when Muggles suddenly have been found to be Confunded or Obliviated. In one case, there even were traces of Imperio."

Draco sat up. "Dark magic?" he asked sharply. This reeked far too much of what had happened during the War, and not even his father wanted a repeat of those trying times.

"Not as far as we can tell," Harry replied, "but there's a chance it might go that way eventually. As I understand it, it's mainly economical pressure right now – and you know how easily that can lead to something more sinister." He didn't have to spell it out that that had been Lucius Malfoy's preferred modus operandi, and even Draco was aware that although the Muggle government may be less prone to bribery, corruption and nepotism than their own Ministry of Magic, it didn't mean that a great deal of behind-the-scenes politicking wasn't done through money changing hands one way or the other.

"Do you know how, or who …?"

"Not yet. We think that it may have started with legitimate Muggle/Wizard business interaction, but we haven't found the connection yet. But there's been enough going on financially that it caught the attention of the Chancellor of the Exchequer."

"Who?"

Harry grinned. "The guy responsible for the finances of the Muggle government. The current one just happens to be a Squib – distantly related to Professor McGonagall, by the way – and took it to the Prime Minister. Who incidentally knew Kingsley from the time he was seconded to Westminster, and that helped to really set the ball into motion."

Draco was anything but stupid, and as good at his Gringotts job as Harry was an Auror. Something in the explanation struck a chord in his mind.

"Hmm. Would that have anything to do with the upcoming lift of the embargo on British produce to the Continent – especially beef?"

Now it was Harry's turn to perk up with interest. "It might. A few leads definitely point towards farming in general, and if this goes totally pear-shaped, even the Statute of Secrecy might be jeopardized. Do you know anything concrete?"

Draco shook his head. "No, it's just a feeling I have. I obviously can't break confidentiality, but I'm sure I saw something … more money appearing in, being shifted between or disappearing from certain accounts than can be explained by normal economics. Let me consult with my supervisor tomorrow; if anyone knows the ins and outs of this, it'll be Oreshaft. If he thinks it's worth investigating, I'll set up a meeting for you."

"That'd be great, thanks," Harry said sincerely. "But can you see now why I can't very well switch dates, or swap shifts with someone? The whole Department has been put on alert, especially those of us who know how to interact unobtrusively with Muggles."

"I guess so," Draco grumbled, then sighed. "Damn. Why does this always have to happen when we have other plans?" He sounded far more disappointed than a missed holiday celebration was worth; in fact, Harry would have to say Draco appeared almost … despondent.

He reached across the table to cover Draco's clenched hands. "I … wasn't aware we had other plans," he said carefully. "Did we?"

Gray eyes reluctantly met his own. "Well … I might've," Draco murmured. He looked down again. "I wanted to … providing you had no objections, of course … and only if you're completely comfortable with the idea, and … I just thought, what with Beltane being 'our' anniversary, of sorts … that maybe we could, well …."

"Breathe," Harry interrupted him gently. He'd had a suspicion where this was going; it was not a new thought for him, either, in fact was something he'd begun to hope for himself, but he'd hesitated to bring the topic up. After all, if he wasn't quite sure, how could he know how Draco felt about things? But with Draco uncharacteristically babbling like this, obviously nervous, it wasn't hard to put all the clues together. Especially not once he'd referred to Beltane as their anniversary. A tiny part of Harry gibbered with panic, but the bigger part seemed to swell with joy. "Just tell me."

Draco drew a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly. "Very well." He squared his shoulders and modulated his voice to its usual controlled timbre. "I thought that we might reveal our relationship. To family and friends, at least."

*So I was right.*

"Come out, you mean? I'm sorry to tell you, love, but everybody who matters has known I was interested in both sexes ever since Ginny and I split up."

Draco's eyes widened at the endearment. Neither he nor Harry were overly fond of pet names, but if that was more than a slip of the tongue, if it actually reflected Harry's feelings towards him … he supposed he could grow to tolerate the term. He refused to admit that it could be far more than mere tolerance already.

"Potter … Harry, my parents and closest friends have been aware of my preferences for years. That's not a problem. They also know that I have been in an exclusive relationship for a while now. However, I have yet to tell them that this relationship is with you." *Or that I'm beginning to wish it were permanent.*

Harry couldn't help the silly smile spreading across his face. "I don't think everybody is quite as unaware as you might think," he whispered. "Hermione's been giving me these Looks lately … and even Teddy has noticed that we've spent nights at each other's place." He grimaced ruefully. "If we can't hide from an eight-year-old, chances are that others have put two and two together as well and come up with the right answer."

Draco stared at him. "You don't mind?"

"No. And now I'm twice as sorry that I'm having to spoil this for you."

"Don't be," Draco said softly, turning his hands so that their fingers could entwine. "I'm disappointed, yes; Beltane would just have been a wonderfully fitting opportunity, is all. But I'm sure there'll be another occasion."

"If not, we'll make one," Harry promised, and leaned over to seal it with a kiss.

A week later, Harry took the opportunity to visit his vault after his meeting with Draco's Goblin supervisor. Oreshaft had been quite interested in what the Auror Department had found out, and assured Harry that the relevant transactions would be closely reviewed by Gringotts employees, and if the connection Draco suspected in fact existed, they wouldn't object to closer cooperation with Magical Law Enforcement.

*If there's anything that'll get the Goblins to work with Wizards, it's a threat to the economy,* Harry thought somewhat cynically as the cart deposited him in front of the Potter vault. He'd only learned on his twenty-first birthday that his trust vault, the one he'd used ever since Hagrid had handed him the key on his eleventh birthday, wasn't the only legacy his parents had left him. *Well, that and the Invisibility Cloak.* Gaining access to the Black fortune as Sirius' heir after the War had taken care of whatever financial needs he might have during his lifetime, so he'd never bothered to find out if there was more.

As it turned out, this other vault contained not only more Galleons, but also quite a number of personal artifacts – things his parents had rather locked away than take them along into hiding. The things they'd brought with them to the cottage in Godric's Hollow might be gone, but some artwork (including portraits of family members Harry had had to look up in a Wizarding genealogy), a goodly portion of the Potters' library and some very good pieces of furniture had been stashed away here, to be kept safe. What was far more important to Harry, however, had been the discovery of a large chest containing heirlooms from the Evans side of his family – things that, on closer inspection, he was sure Aunt Petunia would most likely have destroyed had she ever laid eyes on them.

It had been on Halloween 2001, twenty years after his parents' murder and three months after his birthday, that Harry finally felt ready to take a closer look at the contents of that chest. There was a china dinner set for twelve, silver flatware and some nice, but not spectacular Waterford crystal. From a list his mother had included, those were mostly wedding presents she and James had received, and nothing Harry cared to remove at that time. He simply had no immediate use for any of it.

But there had also been several objets d'art, coming from as far back as his maternal great-grandparents' wedding in 1927, things which even Harry knew were special, and he had come for those today. Draco had ultimately put up a good front about missing the Beltane celebration with Harry, but his disappointment had been all too obvious. So, while Harry still couldn't get the whole day off, he thought he just might have come up with a way to make it up to his lover. Harry carefully shrunk the items he wanted to take with him, and put them into a specially-lined satchel he'd brought. On the way back to the surface, he took care that none of the fragile items was in danger, and left Gringotts with a sigh of relief before Apparating home.

Back in his flat, he stowed the items somewhere safe, then braced himself for the next part of his plan. He wouldn't be able to pull it off on his own, and there was only one who could give him the help he needed.

"Kreacher!" he called. After a few moments, there was a loud Crack!, and the ancient House elf appeared before him. It had been necessary to relocate him to Hogwarts when the Fidelius Charm fizzled out completely at last, and Harry had hired Bill Weasley and a team of curse-breakers to clear the house of Dark Magic. It had been a lengthy (and costly) process, but it had been worth every Knut. Harry wasn't sure yet what to do with the property – rent it, sell it, whatever – but he couldn't do anything while Kreacher lived; his magic was not only tied to the House of Black , but to the very building. After the magical cleansing it was a neutral, empty shell, though, unable to sustain a House elf's magic.

*Hopefully, this will change after Beltane.*

"Master called?"

"Yes. How would you like to move back into Grimmauld Place?"

Kreacher squinted at him. "To do what, Master?"

Harry smiled slowly and began to explain.

The elf was suspicious and more than a little skeptical at first, but eventually agreed it was worth a try. If Harry's plan succeeded, he'd be able to go home again … and that was worth putting up with a few of Master's silly Muggle foibles.

1 May, 2006 – The Beltane That Almost Wasn't

It was seven years after the Fall of Voldemort, and a year to the day that they'd become lovers, and Harry was ready to make his move.

Or as ready as he ever was going to be, he reflected ruefully as he surveyed his efforts. He had no idea how Draco would react to what he'd done, much less what he was going to propose; he had only told him that he'd managed a few free hours on this night after all, and would he please come by and spend them with him?

Draco had agreed readily enough; he'd spent last night once more at the Manor in Wiltshire, but as in the previous year the main celebration was over. Carrying the bundle of kindling Harry had asked him to bring, he approached 12 Grimmauld Place with some misgivings. Grimmauld Place had once been a prestigious address when the Blacks first acquired the property on the cusp of the Victorian era – the houses had been started under the last of the Georgians, King William IV, but weren't completed until shortly before the young Queen's marriage to her German prince. But with the rise of Grindelwald (and World War II for the Muggles), the area slid into a decline, helped unwittingly along by the powerful wards the Blacks set up. With them gone at last, the few remaining residents had started to take interest again, and several houses on the terrace had been snapped up recently by developers. Draco was reasonably certain that Harry wasn't going to sell the house soon, and for his part he'd regret seeing it go – he may have been far more attached to Malfoy Manor, but it was part of his heritage on his mother's side.

Harry had always claimed to hate the house because of his Godfather's unhappiness there, and while Draco was aware that all residues of Dark magic had been removed, he couldn't help but recall how truly dreary it had been the one time his mother had taken him to visit Great-Aunt Walburga when he was still very small.

The sight of the ancient House elf opening the door for him did nothing to dispel that impression, nor did the gloomy hallway, and the almost-hungry gaze the creature kept on him was downright creepy. Draco was very glad to pass through until he reached what seemed to be the back wall.

"Master Draco will be going outside, please," Kreacher croaked and opened a narrow doorway that had been all but hidden in the shadows. "Master Harry is being waiting."

Carefully, Draco passed the elf and stopped at the top of a narrow flight of steps leading down into what must've originally been a kitchen garden or something similar. Now it was … changed. Draco blinked once or twice, beyond surprised at the sight before him. Instead of an overgrown thicket of long-neglected plants or a rubbish tip, the area had been transformed into a narrow but neat courtyard. Gray tiles covered the ground, and wooden planters ran along the walls, filled with a few evergreens and an abundance of spring flowers in riotous colours – tulips, daffodils, daisies, pansies, whatever the season had to offer. But what really took his breath away was what Harry had set up against the back wall.

There, under a square canopy of cream-coloured canvas, was a seating area of low brown rattan couches with soft gray cushions, grouped around a round wrought-iron table with a tiled top. To one side, a Beltane altar had been set up, draped with a length of spring-green silk edged in silver. Draco saw the candles first – two taller ones in white for the female and a green one for the male element flanking a large crystal vase on an intricately-wrought bronze base, and four corner candles in the traditional colours of red, yellow, blue and light green. A plate with oat cakes, a tall chalice made out of a deep amber crystal and adorned with intricate metalwork on the outside that made Draco covet it instantly, and lastly a white china bowl perfect in its simplicity, standing on a plate with a wide gilded rim and topped by a conical lid that also shone with gold completed what was clearly meant to be a Beltane altar. It was a near-perfect setup for an urban Beltane celebration. How, in Merlin's name, had Muggle-raised Harry managed all this in the back yard of an old, decrepit, early-Victorian terrace, with not a meadow or field in sight?

*And all for me, just because he knew I wanted to share the festival with him.*

Draco stood transfixed, trying to wrap his head around everything, when Harry came up to him.

"Do you like it?" he asked almost shyly. "I know how much the traditions mean to you, and as I can't share yours this year, I thought I'd try to have at least a bit of it just for us …" Harry's voice trailed off when Draco didn't reply right away, still too stunned to speak.

"I'm sorry, I … I don't have all the heirlooms your family owns, these aren't even Wizarding items, and I know there are a lot of things missing for a full Rite, but I tried to find as many elements as possible in the week I had to prepare everything, and I only have until ten o'clock tonight before I need to head back in to the Ministry … " Harry stopped himself from further babbling by sheer force of will, closed his eyes briefly to collect himself and continued in a more measured voice. "I'll take it down again if you want."

"Harry, no! It's wonderful," Draco exclaimed. "I'm just overwhelmed – I certainly didn't expect this!"

"Then … it's okay? You don't mind?"

Draco swallowed hard, then went straight into Harry's waiting arms. "How can I mind when you've done so much for me?" he whispered, his face buried against Harry's neck. It was one thing for Harry to take part in Draco's family traditions; it was quite another to arrange a ceremony like this even for the two of them, and Draco couldn't help but love him just a little bit more for the effort.

He let Harry hold him until he had regained control of his emotions, then drew the dark head towards his own mouth into a slow, sweet kiss. Only when the need to breathe became imperative did they separate again. "So – show me what you've done?" Draco requested softly against the firm lips.

He was rewarded with a blinding smile. "Sure. But shouldn't we light the fire first?"

"In a private ceremony like this, we can do things whichever way we want."

"Right. So let's start with that. You did bring the wood?"

"Yes." Draco showed him the bundle of kindling, identical to the one his parents used to light the bonfire at the Manor. Twenty-seven branches of the traditional woods – three each of birch, oak, rowan, willow, hawthorn, hazel, apple, vine and fir, to represent the female and male elements, life, death, purification, wisdom, love, joy and rebirth. "Where …?"

Still smiling, Harry lifted the centre of the tiled table-top out of the way to reveal a fire basket underneath. Draco raised an eyebrow. "Ingenious." Together, they arranged the kindling in a small pyre, then Conjured sparks from their wands to set it on fire.

"Will you do the honours, please?" Harry asked.

"Gladly." Taking a deep breath to find his core, Draco deliberated briefly which rite to use. Decision made, he drew his wand, holding it over the altar.

"Here at this spot do we create a place sacred to the Gods of old. For a while, here and now shall the ancient ways live again."

Next, he saluted the four quarters with his wand.

"Oh winds of the East, blow sweet and pure, for the Lady reigns again!

Oh warmth of the South, bring forth life from the earth, for the Lady reigns again!

Oh waters of the West, glisten clear and fresh, for the Lady reigns again!"

Oh lands of the North, grow rich and bounteous, for the Lady reigns again!"

Lastly, he laid his wand among the glowing candles.

"Gracious and lovely Lady of the moon, of joy and love, Protectress of forests and wild things, this place is consecrated to Thee."

Picking up the chalice Harry had filled with an infusion of sweet woodruff and wine that he'd made himself the day before, Draco sprinkled a few drops of the May wine onto the ground as well as the soil in one of the planters and spoke the last invocation.

"To the Great Ones of old – and to the joyous times to come!"

Both men shared a sip of the sweet drink, then Draco finished by rapping their altar table three times with his wand. Harry then handed Draco the china bowl and lifted the lid. Inside was a Beltane potpourri made out of rosebuds and rose petals, cowslip, oak moss, bluebells, lilac, marigolds and meadowsweet, sprinkled with frankincense oil. "I asked Neville to make this for us," Harry murmured.

Draco acknowledged him with a smile. It wouldn't have mattered all that much but now he was sure that the potpourri was correct as well as perfectly proportioned. He scattered a liberal handful over the merrily crackling flames in the fire basket, basking in the scent for a minute, then started to recite the last of the Beltane blessing he'd been taught as a child.

"As woods and meadows flower forth, we celebrate the ancient rite as the Ancients did before us. We cast the words into the mists of time and space and otherwhere: Where one stays now, in years to come, may scores of others revel there. So may it be!"

"So may it be," Harry echoed softly. They kissed again, with more passion than before yet still restrained; they knew that Harry might be called in to work at a moment's notice, and it wouldn't do to get carried away.

After nightfall they carried kindling from their mini-bonfire into the house, re-lighting the hearth in the kitchen and one or two fireplaces. Gradually, they could feel the magic of the Beltane fire fill the void the magical cleansing had left behind. If Harry should ever want to keep the house, he would add his own magical signature when moving in to make it truly his own. Kreacher watched from the shadows, confirming afterwards that his magic would soon recover now that the old traditions were being enacted again in the House of Black, even without Harry's imprint. Harry promised his elf he'd help as often as possible, then withdrew back into the courtyard to sit with Draco on the low couches. Together, they finished the May wine and ate the oat cakes Harry had baked the day before.

"How did you do all that?" Draco asked, letting his eyes linger on the various objects Harry had used to create a proper – and beautiful – setting for their Beltane altar. "The courtyard, the canopy …"

"That was actually the easy part," Harry chuckled. "Once I had Kreacher convinced I was being serious, I just went to the nearest garden centre and bought what I wanted, then we worked together until it was done. Flatpacks and elf magic – gotta love it! Then Neville helped with the plants, and I found the length of silk over in a sari shop in East London, near Green Street."

"I see." Draco didn't, not really, but further explanations could wait; it was enough that it had got done. "And the other things? The chalice, the porcelain bowl and the vase?" Draco ran an admiring hand over the smooth relief of the opalescent crystal. He wasn't a great admirer of nude females even in art, but he had to admit that the depicted dancers were definitely suited to the occasion. It was a pity that the bouquet of yellow narcissi and white calla lilies didn't give off a true scent, but the sentiment behind them … honoring both their mothers … was nothing short of perfect. As for the chalice … well. "My mother might kill for a piece like this," he remarked idly, letting his fingers trace the shape, the ornaments and the delicate metalwork around the upper rim. "This is magnificent."

"Thank you."

For an instant, Draco's expression darkened. "We used to have an equally impressive ritual chalice," he murmured. "It was pure silver, with inlays of malachite, onyx and pearls. The Malfoys had used it for ages, but it's gone now."

"Destroyed?" It wouldn't have surprised Harry if the Death Eaters occupying the Manor during the War had tried to punish the family for their apparent shortcomings by smashing priceless heirlooms out of sheer spite.

"Yes – by Mother herself. He had commandeered it for his personal drinking vessel, and she never wanted to touch it again. She even cast Fiendfyre on it – a simple melting down wasn't enough, she said. Not for something He had befouled." There was no doubt at all who 'He' was.

*Ugh.* Harry understood perfectly; he wouldn't have wanted to use an object, no matter how valuable, for something as beautiful as a Beltane Rite either, after Voldemort had profaned it.

"Maybe we can get a similar one for her, then. I understand they sometimes come up at auction."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that," Draco smiled.

Harry smiled back. "You like my things, then? They are Muggle, you know."

For a second, Draco was tempted to make one of his trademark snarky comments, but something in Harry's eyes and voice held him back.

"They're stunning pieces of art, no matter who created them. What's not to like?" It was the right answer, he could read it in the slight lessening of tension in Harry's shoulders.

"The vase, chalice and bowl belonged to my mother," he murmured softly at last.

"Your mother? How? I thought your parents' possessions got lost after …"

"After Voldemort killed them. Yes, that's what I thought, too. But they managed to stash a heap of things in a Gringotts vault; everything they couldn't or didn't want to use while they were in hiding. I only learned about it when I turned twenty-one."

"That must've been a wonderful surprise."

"It was – especially these things. I mean, I've had the Cloak from my dad for ages, but I've always believed everything of my mum's had gone to my Aunt Petunia – and she would've rather thrown any mementoes away than share them with me." Harry's mouth twisted in momentary bitterness, but his eyes sparkled behind the lenses of his spectacles. "She probably would've thought that the vase was indecent, and flipped completely over the motif on the bowl, anyway."

Draco had been delighted to discover that the gilded lid and the plate's rim depicted scenes from Mozart's The Magic Flute in a finely-detailed relief.

"Wait, Wizards know about Mozart?" Harry wondered.

"Of course," Draco replied smugly. "He was magical, but with little actual talent aside from his music. It was one of the reasons he had this big fallout with his father – Leopold Mozart had expected him to work exclusively in the Wizarding world as an adult, but Mozart insisted not only on staying at the Viennese Muggle court, but also on marrying a Muggle. He died before they could reconcile, but Mozart's work is very well regarded by Wizards everywhere."

"Interesting. Anyway, mum left notes about where these three items came from, and I've looked up the rest. The vase and the chalice were both made by a French designer-artist, René Lalique, between World War One and Two. In fact, the vase was made the year after Riddle was born and is an absolute collector's item nowadays; it has always struck me as ironic that someone so evil and something so beautiful come from the same era. My great-grandparents Evans received it as a wedding gift in 1927."

"And the chalice? I love the colour, it's gorgeous."

Harry smiled. "Is slightly younger – early to mid-nineteen thirties, I think. It was a gift on the occasion of my grandfather's birth."

Draco rolled his eyes indulgently at the near-encyclopedic discourse on facts, numbers and provenance. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Granger had looked up the details and Harry was only reciting what she'd spoon-fed him, but this was his legacy – even more, his legacy from a mother he'd never really known and who had given her life for him. No, this was one piece of research Harry would've done himself.

"That's great to know. Do you know anything about the Magic Flute bowl, too? The shape is stunning, but it looks younger, more modern."

"Uh huh. It was a wedding present to Mum and Dad; that particular line of china first came out in 1976, and was bought by my grandmother Evans when my parents finished at Hogwarts and got married."

The two young men contemplated the three objets d'art in silence for a few minutes. At last, Draco slid an arm around Harry's shoulders. "You must be so pleased to have found at least a few valuable heirlooms," he whispered. To his surprise, Harry answered in normal tones.

"I am – but not because they're actually worth quite a bit of money nowadays. Just knowing that mum loved them, that she cared enough about her heritage to share them with my father, that dad loved and respected her enough to let her – and that they wanted to keep them safe for the future, for me – that's priceless."

"I agree," Draco nodded.

"There's more, though," Harry said hesitantly. He was half-afraid Draco would laugh at him, but he needed to tell someone - and he trusted him not to pull a Hermione and treat him like a guinea pig, a project. *Screw it, I trust him, full stop. So I can tell him.* "There was something strange about the way I found them."

The languid gray eyes sharpened abruptly. "Strange how?"

"Remember that I learned about the things my parents left me on my birthday in 2001? Somehow, I never got around to look at them until Halloween, three months later. And I know I wasn't that busy that summer and autumn!"

That was suspicious, indeed, especially given how hungry Harry still was for anything that would further the connection with his lost family. "Could it have been Dark magic, or another curse?"

"No. It was almost as if I'd been compelled to go to Gringotts and revisit the vault on that very day. With the specific purpose of looking at these items, no less, but it never felt malevolent in any way."

"You seem awfully sure about that – did you check with the Goblins, or the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry's expression had grown very soft. "I didn't need to," he said quietly. "Because something happened when I first unpacked them that told me I didn't have to worry. Nothing from my parents will ever cause me harm."

"How can you be certain?" Draco asked, now seriously alarmed. "If there was a curse, or a compulsion on any of the items …"

"There wasn't. Look, I'll show you."

Harry closed both hands around the base of the crystal vase. At first, nothing happened, but then the opalescent crystal deepened in colour from pearly white to a bluish hue reminiscent of the full moon over a snow-covered field. And it might have been a trick of the eye, but for a mere instant it seemed as if the figurines carved into the crystal were actually moving in an ancient, rather erotic dance. Draco's jaw dropped.

As soon as Harry removed his hands, everything stilled and returned to normal. But the chalice glowed golden like liquid honey when Harry held it, and the china bowl – Draco could've sworn he saw that relief move, too, and faint strains of Sarrastro's aria O Isis and Osiris from the Mozart opera teased his ears. Again, the effect stopped immediately as soon as Harry was no longer in contact with each object.

"What – how - ?" Draco breathed, equally awed and disturbed. *Is there no end to what weird things Magic can (and frequently will) do to Harry?*

"It happened the first time that Halloween when I unpacked the chest they were stored in," Harry explained. "It scared me nearly half to death when that glow suddenly appeared, and even more when I thought I heard music, but regardless I knew right away that whatever was causing it wasn't going to harm me. Rather, I've never felt closer to my parents than I did then … or today, just now. It's like I could communicate with them if I touched the objects just right. Not in words or anything concrete, more like feeling their presence very intensely, but I've tried every way I could think of, and … they're always just out of reach." Harry's sigh was laced with sadness, but at the same time his eyes shone with an inner peace Draco had only ever seen in them after they'd made love.

Draco was also steeped enough in Pureblood lore to ask the right questions now that he was past his first shock.

"Does it happen often? That you can sense your family through or around these objects, I mean."

Harry pondered a bit. "Hmm, no, not often; at least, not every time I touch any of them. But I think it was strongest when I first found them, and today when I cleaned them and set them up." He hesitated before continuing. There'd been that brief sensation of connecting with Sirius at the bonfire a year ago, but he wasn't going to mention it; he couldn't be sure whether his Godfather's old cloak clasp, all but forgotten by its original owner and never worn after he'd left his family, was enough of an artifact to forge a connection.

"I felt something similar when we helped Teddy plant his seed two years ago," he whispered at last. "For just a moment, I thought I saw and heard Tonks and Remus, giving us their approval, but ... I dismissed it because I really wished it could be them with Teddy, not just you and me. At the time, I thought it was all happening just in my head."

"Of course it's happening in your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it's not real?" Albus Dumbledore's voice echoed through the years, and Harry paled, staring at his mother's heirlooms with fresh awe. Before he could follow the train of thought, however, he was distracted by Draco's next question.

"Didn't the ceramic pot come from the Tonks family?"

"Yeah – from Andromeda's mother-in-law, I believe. She said Tonks loved it because of the vibrant colours, and kept it in her room all the time."

This confirmed Draco's suspicion. "Ah, that fits. It must be related to Samhain and Beltane, I think." At Harry's uncomprehending look, he elaborated. "They're two of the cross-quarter days, one the festival of the dead, the other to celebrate rebirth. Generally considered to be days of great power."

Harry gaped at him. *I think I was touching Sirius' clasp last year, when I thought I'd heard him cheering me on. Blimey …*

With a small smile, Draco continued. "Tradition holds that on those two days, the Veil between the living and those who have passed on is thinnest. Mind, I'm not saying that you could forge a connection to your parents with the help of these artifacts, but if there were such a chance … this would be it."

After his experience with the Resurrection Stone in the Forbidden Forest, Harry was not the person to dismiss such a conclusion. "Wow," he breathed, and reverently reached for the china bowl again, inhaling once more the scent of dried flowers and frankincense.

When Harry had had his fill of exploring the sensations he could evoke with his heirlooms, he leaned back tiredly against Draco's chest. "I wish I didn't have to work tonight," he grumbled. "Not only do I have to leave you, Beltane is almost over as well, and it'll be ages, if at all, until I can feel my parents again."

"Maybe you shouldn't handle the artifacts again on your own," Draco suggested delicately. There was danger in communing with the dead, no matter how innocently. "If you took them to the Department of Mysteries and let the Unspeakables have a look … maybe demonstrate for them what you showed me …"

"No." Harry was instantly adamant. "This is private. I'm not becoming an experiment, not for anybody." He briefly flashed back to his third year at Hogwarts, when Hermione had insisted Professors McGonagall and Flitwick examine the Firebolt Sirius had sent him for Christmas. It might have been prudent and meant to keep him safe, but still … it had felt like a betrayal, at least for a little while, that she wouldn't let him trust his instincts. "I told you, I know this is causing me no harm." After all, he'd experienced the trap that was the Mirror of Erised first-hand as a boy, and was all too aware of the lure of the Resurrection Stone. It had been that, as much as Voldemort's poison in the cave and Snape's Killing Curse, which had cost Dumbledore his life. Harry liked living too much, especially now that he'd found Draco, to give it up for some dream or fantasy that was more than likely all in his mind.

He turned his head to kiss Draco. "Don't worry, I'm not going to become addicted to handling them, or something. Just knowing that there's a connection to my family is enough. It's a gift – my own special bit of Beltane magic, and there's no way in hell that I'm letting some bloody Unspeakable pick it apart. It's mine, and it's going to stay that way."

"If you say so," Draco muttered, not fully convinced, but willing to indulge Harry – for now. And stay alert for possible dangers, just in case.

So much trust deserved at least a small concession. "Would it help if I promised never to touch them when I'm alone?" Not that Harry minded too much; sharing this with Draco felt right, and he hoped they might be sharing even more in times to come.

*Well, at least he's showing some sense!* "Possibly, but Harry, you'd need someone living with you at all times to make absolutely sure – I know how seductive magic like that can be!"

The opening was too good to pass up; especially since he'd been hoping and waiting for one like it all evening. And 'seduction' sounded like a brilliant idea, too.

"Are you volunteering for the post?" Harry asked oh-so-casually.

Draco stilled as if he'd been hit with Petrificus Totalis. "D-do you want me to?" he inquired thickly once he'd regained the power of speech. Was it possible that he was being offered that much? That his most secret dream was coming true, on this of all possible days?

"Please?"

Such a small word, and yet it held a whole world of promise.

Draco swallowed several times to get past the enormous lump in his throat, then raised his eyes to Harry's. Surely nobody could resist those green eyes. Not when they were looking at a person with such hope, sincerity and love.

Draco Malfoy certainly couldn't. Not when he was being handed his fondest wish on a silver platter. But he wouldn't be Draco Malfoy and a Slytherin if he gave in to a Gryffindor's request just like that.

"I might take it under consideration," he said gruffly – or tried to, because his mouth was sealed immediately by Harry's ecstatic kiss. Which was interrupted far too soon by the sudden appearance of a squirrel Patronus.

"Get your sorry arse over to Covent Garden, Potter," it growled incongruously with Head Auror Dawlish's voice. "You're needed here!"

In the blink of an eye, Harry-the-lover transformed into Auror Potter.

"Right. Sorry, love. Tell Kreacher to clear a room for you if you want to stay; if not, I'll owl you tomorrow and we can start picking out furniture. I'd planned on opening this place up again for us, did I tell you? Anyway, gotta run. Bye!"

A last kiss, and Harry was gone in a hasty flurry of robes as he Apparated, leaving a thoroughly bewildered Draco behind.

"But I haven't even agreed yet," he whinged to the empty air.

"Master Draco will." Draco jumped at hearing the croaky voice of the old elf right next to him. How had he not heard him approach?

"What would you know," he snapped, only to see the ugly little face rearrange itself into gleeful folds.

"Kreacher knows, because Master Harry is an Auror. Master Harry always gets his man. And you is his man." With that, he popped away with a loud Crack! to disappear somewhere within the house.

Torn between outrage and laughter, Draco ambled back towards the canopy and the couches. "Master Harry's man, am I?" He leaned back in the really quite comfortable cushions – for a Muggle fabrication, that is – and poured the last of the May wine into the chalice, raising it in a cheeky salute to the heavens.

"Well … I can live with that."

Finite.

Final note: One of the perquisites for writing a Beltane story for this challenge was that it had to contain, among others, a chalice. I immediately thought of Lalique crystal (which I adore and wish I could afford), and started Googling … and, well, it went on from there. If you want to have a look at the Evans heirlooms, Teddy's ceramic pot, a few details of Sirius' cloak clasp and the bouquet Harry chose for his Beltane altar, send me a message and I'll give you the link to Photobucket. :-) And now that you're done reading, please pass by the feedback box on your way out? Thanks!