Hi guys, still a lack of reviews and it's really getting me down and makes me less motivated. I don't have any of the next chapter written yet, I'll be honest, so a little encouragement wouldn't go amiss! Sorry for the long update wait but I have a lot of work to do, and writing this is supposed to be my stress relief. However this chapter became progressively angsty, and there is more about Draco's state of mind here.

If you are affected by any of the issued raised concerning food control, I would encourage you to check out's BEAT's website. They're great and straight-talking whilst also being very sympathetic to the psychology of disordered eating.

PS- my laptop crashed in the middle of this and the document wasn't saved. I think it recovered it all though...

PART FOUR

When Draco awoke he was still wearing the dressing gown and pyjamas, although he could tell before he even opened his eyes that they were in their bed, and Harry was with him.

"You have training," he murmured, sleepily.

"It's Saturday, I've been and come back." Harry shifted beside him and looked down from where he was sitting up against the headboard, Daily Prophet in hand. "Good morning," he smiled, and Draco basked in it, stretching like a kneazle before rolling onto his stomach, head tilted on Harry's thigh. The slight roughness of leg hair scraped against his own meagre morning stubble.

Draco reached up with one slender hand and flicked the underside of the newspaper. "What's the news?"

"Honeydukes has a new line, chocolate sex toys, order only. It's the scandal of Hogsmeade."

"Harry!" he swatted him.

Harry laughed, "Not much on us. A bit about my speech, 'who does Potter think he is,' all that crap, but on the whole there's more attention on Brookes' trousers than anything else to do with the team. I knew those leathers would get him into trouble. Skeeter's done a whole article speculating on him being in the closet." He chucked the paper on the floor and rolled them over in a swift movement. Draco's breath caught at the motion, his head tilting backwards slightly as he focused on the man on top of him.

"Chocolate sex toys?"

"All the range."

The blond shook his head, squirming in his lover's gentle grip. "You're filthy Potter."

"Well I bet someone makes them," Harry reasoned, leaning in to cast a teasing breath over his right ear. Draco's eyelashes fluttered closed. "I could plug you with a bit of chocolate and we'll make millions…"

"Harry!" Draco felt the tendons in his neck shudder as Harry's face turned from playful to serious, intense; years of knowing what that meant sent his pulse skyrocketing immediately. Unbidden, his tongue crept out swiftly to relieve his suddenly dry lower lip, watching the brunette's eyes track the motion. He could feel the flush of arousal begin to paint him, felt Harry hard against his thigh. How many weeks had it been since he had lain with him? It felt like years.

"Draco, I want you."

"You're in a kinky mood," he responded, breathlessly.

"Oh I am," Harry admitted, letting go of his hands and casting a devious smirk at him before undoing the dressing gown belt. "Nearly fell off my broom this morning thinking of all the wildly naughty things I could be doing to you…all spread out for me…wanting this, so beautiful and hard…"

Draco groaned, swallowing Harry's guttural words as their lips and tongues met and explored each other. "Do you want this, baby?" The pyjama bottoms were swiftly stripped off his legs, and he spread his thighs without even thinking about it, his hands all over Harry's back and the sweeping hard curve of his shoulders. Gripping. Wanting. "Lubricant," Harry demanded, hoarse: "lubricant…" a bottle flew into his hand. It wasn't the one they usually used but it would do the job.

Draco keened as he felt hands rubbing the cool gel, quickly warming, over his pectorals, stomach, cock and entrance, forgetting his body; forgetting that he was bones where Harry was muscle… and feeling so desired… and the touch was so familiar but still so exciting. Harry's teeth almost pierced the sensitive patch under his ear as two fingers entered him smoothly.

"Yes…"

"Just getting started. You love this, don't you?"

"Yes, oh –Harry, talk to me…"

"How many times do you think we can make you lose control this morning? You know I love it when you lose control Draco… so beautiful, never hurt you again… no one else… fuck… oh baby, that good?"

"So good…" Draco shifted, moving his legs more. Captivated by Harry's gaze.

"Do you want more? Do you want me?"

"Both, god, everything Harry…" Galvanised into action, he used his teeth to tear the wrapper off the first condom he found.

Later – quite a bit later – they lay spooned, Harry behind him, waiting to come down. Draco was still trembling.

"Draco?"

"Mmm."

"You okay?"

He rolled into Harry, against his chest. "Perfect."

"I didn't hurt you."

"No. I'm not made of glass Harry; I'll tell you if it's too much, too rough. You know part of me still identifies with that little slag you tamed twelve years ago."

Harry frowned, "don't talk about my lover that way." Draco gave him a doting smile and leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. "Shall I make us some breakfast? That certainly worked up my appetite."

"I think I'd better shower first."

They showered together and dressed comfortably before making their way down to the kitchen. It was warm for November and sunlight gleamed on the worktops. Draco selected the ingredients and Harry carefully put them together. Eggs and spinach on wholemeal toast with satsumas and yoghurt with apricot jam to follow. Draco made the coffee, Harry poached the eggs. Their bare feet touched under the kitchen table.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

Draco set his spoon down. "I think we should talk." Harry stilled, coffee cup half to his mouth. "I'll be right back. There are things we need to discuss now, things we need to get out the way."

"…Okay."

He came back with the white envelope.

"These came the day before you came home. You should see them."

"What are they?"

Harry opened the envelope curiously, almost as though he half expected Draco to have a surprise for him. 'It's a surprise all right,' the blond thought wryly. The first image he picked up was the most indistinct, and he frowned at it without really looking. The next one made the entire colour wash out of his cheeks, before it returned tenfold. Draco leaned forward.

"I'm sorry Harry."

"What – no…" It was more painful than he had imagined, watching the expressions of hurt, betrayal, disgust and panic flutter over his lover's face. How many times had he fantasised in the last two months about throwing those photos in that face? "I think I'm going to be sick-"

"No, no calm down Harry."

"Oh my god, you've had these all this time? What- where did they come from? Draco, I'm s-so s-sorry," he hiccoughed, forehead creased.

"Shhh…. I admit that when I got them I was angry. More than angry. They were sent anonymously …I wanted to confront you with them so many times. Then when I read your letter… you're not enjoying it are you? In the pictures you look so… Just tell me that once and for all: did you enjoy it?"

Harry was shaking his head furiously before he'd even finished speaking, and his voice came out gurgled, "I don't even remember it. I thought it would go away if I didn't talk about it. I thought I remembered being h-hurt, but I don't even know what I remember or not. Please believe me. You have to."

Draco took a couple of breaths and swept the photographs back into the envelope. "I believe you." He repeated it for good measure: "I believe you. But there will be copies of these. Someone, somewhere, has copies. So we have two choices. One: Burn the fucking things."

"Yes, do it!"

"Or number two," he sighed. "Turn them in to our solicitor and let him do everything in his power to prevent them being published." He got up and stood behind Harry's chair, kneading his shoulders. "I could kill Alex for hurting you."

"It takes two to stir the potion, maybe he wants to kill me too."

"Maybe." Draco leant down and rubbed his cheek against Harry's soft hair, still slightly damp. "But I can't stop thinking about last night. He wanted you, I know he did."

Harry flinched. "I'm yours."

"Yes, you are, and I love you." He tilted the brunet's head and kissed him chastely before taking a seat on his lap. "I never really stopped believing that you loved me back," he confessed, smoothing the hair back from Harry's forehead and pressing his lips against the fine lines. "One day I know I'll be able to forgive you. I felt so jealous though. I feel… he's twenty-eight, Harry. How do you think that made me feel? And athletic… slim. He's - sexy."

"I don't need a twenty-eight year old to make me feel young and attractive! Besides, we are young! Take this morning. I love getting wild with you, and I equally love it when we take things slow and gentle. That's something I could never get with anyone else. That idea that you're mine, that your body is mine to touch and take …have you any idea how good that makes me feel? Because I'll tell you every day if you want me to."

The blond shifted and looked away. "Then why are you pushing me? Why do you keep feeding me? You… you think I'm unattractive."

"Do you want the honest answer or the one I think will make you smile? Give me some help Draco."

He licked his lips. "Honest," he whispered. "I can take it."

"Okay," Harry paused, picking his words. "Even if you were a bag of bones I would still find you attractive. Nothing you do to yourself will every stop me from telling you how gorgeous you are …but the amount you eat terrifies me sometimes. Your Aunt has noticed too. One day Teddy will." Draco inhaled sharply but didn't move away.

Harry wet his lips and continued. "It's okay to put weight on. I'm an athlete, I'm big; I weigh a lot and carry a load of muscle. How can you feel this way about yourself? Do I disgust you too? There's fourteen stone of me to crush you between the sheets… If you're worried about putting fat on we can start working out together, or go running, you know… share the experience. You're the healer Draco; I know that somewhere inside you know that this isn't right."

The blond remained silent, a small pulse jumping in his neck. Harry rubbed his back. "You can control this."

"I am in control, Potter!" He felt his lips twist into an unattractive snarl.

"You wanted my answer."

"Why didn't you write any of it in your letter then?"

"Because some things you need to say face to face. I love you so much. You told me off for treating you like glass this morning? Well I feel like I'll crush you, or break one of your bones, a wrist…"

"Stop!" His face in the curve of Harry's neck.

"Where's the man who teased me in that patisserie in Lyon and stole my pain au chocolat? The one who introduced me to fois gras, or butter bean soup, or snails in garlic butter? Or my favourite: the combination of whipped cream, strawberries and sex?"

He felt Draco's face jump in a smile. "In here."

"That's a start then, right?"

"I – I thought no one had noticed."

Harry drew back to look at him frankly. "And no one will. You forget I've been with you for over a decade. We can't keep things secret. But six months ago we wouldn't have needed to have this conversation. Don't you think it's better that we fix it now?"

"The press are really gone?"

"They're gone. Not allowed within five hundred metres of our front door. We won on grounds that it went against the muggle secrecy act."

"Okay. Let's go on that walk."

888

It was unseasonable sunny in Whitstable. They had apparated to a secluded portion of one of the old sea walls and walked along the shingle, hand in hand and in a companionable silence. There was a tumble-down vintage furniture shop halfway along. Draco disengaged himself and went over to examine the faded upholstery of the Edwardian chair just inside the doorway. Harry slipped his hands into his pockets, watching the fine flyaway strands of blonde hair fluttering across his lover's forehead; caught in the rolling sea breeze.

The photographs from the white envelope played on his mind, disgusting. Not for the first time, he was blown away by Draco's inner steel.

Ducking under the low door jamb, his eyes took a little while to adjust to the dim light by contrast to the sun glancing off the beach pebbles outside. "Look at this," he turned and was stunned by the sight of Draco's hair again, practically glowing in the gloom. "Harry! Stop, pay attention!" A smile in his voice. He lifted his lips away from the blonde's jaw and looked up into his face. Draco shook his head, "you can kiss me on the beach – I want to show you these door handles."

They browsed companionably for a while, Draco a little more vocally; he liked design, and old things – perhaps a by-product of growing up in an ancestral home. They didn't buy anything, but nonetheless it was a refreshingly normal activity. When they re-joined the beach and reached the main pier, all thoughts of the abysmal photographs had fled to the back of Harry's mind, and he was having more fun doing normal things than any amount of fancy award ceremonies or quidditch wins could provide.

Draco led them up to the top floor (classics) of Harbour Books, and started selecting things to send to Teddy. "I think I bought him Great Expectations last year but I'll bet my wand he didn't get past the first chapter. How about some Waugh? A Handful of Dust, or Brideshead?"

Harry laughed, "Vile Bodies."

"Why?"

"Because you didn't mention it and therefore think it's a degenerate book. I didn't know you'd read all these."

"I had a library at the manor, you knew that."

"Not with muggle books in."

"Yes, well, I was an only child, I liked to read. Besides, if I wanted to get him something degenerate I could send him Lady Chatterley and have done. Do you think he reads any of the books I send him?"

"He is a Ravenclaw."

"Hmm. I think I'll send him The Count of Monte Cristo; that's so long he'll be reading it right up 'til Christmas. And it's a good book for boys. Can you hold these?" He dumped a stack of novels into Harry's arms.

"Bloody hell; are these for now or for Christmas?"

"Christmas! It's only a few days from November," Draco reasoned, rooting on a bottom shelf, pulling out tomes and replacing them again after skimming the blurb. At Harry's lack of reply he looked up at him. "Hey," he got up, taking the stack of books from his lover's arms and placing them on the top of a low shelf next to them before running his hands up and down the tense forearms. "Brooding in the bookshop is not allowed."

"Two days ago I was thinking whether I was even going to be allowed to spend Christmas with you."

"You're allowed and you're cooking," the blond murmured, drawing his arms around his waist. They stood in reflective silence for a moment. The top floor of the shop was quite deserted apart from them, shafts of light falling between the shelves. "It's good to get out of the house together, isn't it? It helps."

"Yeah."

"Do you really want to talk in the bookshop?"

"Well no one else is up here."

"I was thinking a lot when we were walking."

"Me too."

"I want to continue living with Aunt during the week. It will help us take time to think about things separately as well as together. I mean, you can still see me during the week. This – this isn't coming out very well. I just don't want to go from separation back to all-in immediately. This weekend has been great so far, it has, it – I-" Draco shrugged, smoothing his hair back with one hand. A faint blush crept up his neck. "We have more time to spend quality time together at the weekend."

"Will you keep your promise about… you know, getting well, at her house?"

Draco gave him a sharp look, "I'm not ill," he said guardedly. His eyes quickly flickered the bookshelves, checking that they were still alone.

"Please, I'm not trying to scold you," Harry made an aborted motion towards him and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I just want to know that you take seriously what we talked about this morning."

Draco licked his lips quickly, pressing them together in a line. "Why are you turning this into an interrogation? Is it because I won't move home immediately? Are you going to have her checking up on me?" his voice had raised and he made an effort to bring it down again. Harry was looking a bit alarmed now. He took a deep breath, feeling a little dizzy. "I told you I would work on it. Or maybe my words don't mean anything to you?"

"Don't be unfair," Harry said quietly.

"Of all the things you've done to me recently, you're the injured party over something to stupid as a few missed meals? You're ridiculous Potter." He turned away, trembling, and gazed blearily out of the window. A woman outside the haberdasher's was stocking up on cut-price fabric samples from a big green bin.

Behind him he heard Harry shifting. "I'll take these to the till."

888

Harry put the house keys and their bags of books on the hall table before disappearing straight into the kitchen when they got home. Draco stood in the hallway, the half-open door ahead, wishing that he hadn't gone and fucked up their afternoon. He didn't really know why he'd gotten so defensive, after all they hadn't been to Whitstable for a while and he liked the seaside town. Liked being out with Harry, relaxing.

Harry was at the kettle, popping teabags in their mugs when he put his head in the door. At the touch of a hand to the small of his back, the brunet spoke: "I can't help the way I feel, the way I'm worried… I know you don't like it. I wish you'd humour me on this. When we made love this morning my first thought was not to hurt you. We've got a lot wilder than that loads of times over the years and to be honest that's not usually my reaction."

Draco snorted, a spark of vindictiveness rising in him again. "Please Harry, we weren't making love, we were fucking." The words seemed to tumble out of his mouth, and even as he tried to reach out and grab them back they danced over his tongue and out. Harry turned so fast he put a hand quickly to his neck as though whiplashed. Draco himself felt just as shocked and hurt as Harry's expression.

"I'm, I'm sorry-" he reached out, wincing when Harry recoiled. "I don't know why I said that. It's not true." They paused, looking at each other. He reached for him again. "Harry, please." There was no reply for a moment save the steady clinking of the teaspoons stirring themselves in their mugs.

"Please," he repeated, more forcefully. "What do you want me to say? That our relationship needs serious fixing? That every time my picture ends up in a paper I want to burn it? That you're more attracted to airheaded twenty-year old sluttish quidditch players than you are to me? That I've wanted us to get married for so long, and that so many times I go to refer to you as my husband before remembering it's not true? That I feel disgusting and – and large - and the only way I feel in control anymore is to be some pathetic idiot who doesn't e-eat even though I know it's making me more disgusting to you? Even though I know what it will do to me? Or maybe that no matter what you feel about it, in my head you still let another man fuck you and the photos say you loved it! You're jealous of me doing my fucking job and putting my hands on an injured man's body, well you have no fucking idea how I felt! How I still feel! You tell me you love me and in the same breath you tell me how disgusting and bony I am, like I don't already know it, like it's news! Is that what you wanted me to say, you prick?"

Harry cleared his throat, blinking hard, before disengaging the white fingers in his t-shirt.

"Yeah," he answered hoarsely. "Yeah that is what I wanted you to say."

Draco ended up drinking both of the cups of tea.

Please leave a contribution in the little box.