"Where were you?"

Draco blearily looked up. Despite time not going forwards somehow for his long talk with Sin or Tom or whatever he wanted to be called, he still couldn't fall asleep and stay asleep last night. He tried to sleep in to make up for it but that didn't work, as evident by his manner with his professor and Head of House practically snarling above him.

"Wha' you mean?" he slurred through a yawn, rolling his shoulders and arms to help wake his body up if not his mind.

"Articulate, boy," Snape growled almost like it was instinct for him.

"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly. "I was in bed all night, professor, whatever do you mean?"

"You know better than to lie to me, Draco," his godfather hissed, seeing through his failed attempt at innocuous innocence. He quickly surveyed the area, looking for any students otherwise aware enough to be suspicious before dragging him into his office. "I've known you since you were a child, before everything happened."

"I know, I'm sorry," Draco continued, ashamed, as he settled into a seat. "I thought you were asleep."

"Ah, so the truth does come out," he said with his signature smirk. "Well, don't let me stop you, go on," he said with a short gesture of his hand.

"I waited for everyone to go to bed," Draco said slowly. "Especially for your light to go out. I-I was summoned by, by my master and I met him in the abandoned girl's bathroom. You know, Moaning Myrtle's. And I became his apprentice and-and future lover," he ended very meek and quiet. Severus sighed.

"And so it does begin." Draco looked up at his mentor.

"You're not upset?"

"Of course not. Lucius knew this day would come and he had the foresight to prepare us all; not just your friends," he replied, smirking at his obvious shock.

"Oh," he said plainly, taking a moment to revel in his pleased shock. His father was usually very aloof, expressing his love in very subtle, hidden ways that sometimes, most of the time even he couldn't tell if they were or not. A soft smile graced his lips but he frowned right after. "Sir, should I send a letter telling Father? T-Sin said not to tell anyone, really, but he did say to send a letter as well," he tapped his chin in thought, resisting the urge to itch his neck or hand at speaking his master's name. Luckily, he remembered that much ever since awaking, although, he had a feeling that Tom had put a spell on him to always remind him. It sounded like something he would do.

He jumped slightly when he saw a shadow twitch, oddly comforted by the idea that Tom could be in the same room as him at all times. It was like having a secret guardian around that no one would know about, just like no one would know his real name or one of them. "I will not pressure you into a choice, however, Lucius would desire very much to know everything. And he is very knowledgeable in this circumstance, perhaps even besting the Headmaster," he suddenly heard breaking into his thoughts.

"Thank you sir," Draco said giving a weak smile, not sure what exactly his Potion's Master had just said. "I think I will if you would excuse me?" He got up swiftly, making his way to the Owlery. It was mostly empty; his entrance, paired with a no-nonsense sneer on his face, emptied the remaining five students there. He took out some parchment that he always carried shrunken in his pocket, it was a defense that his father had prepared if he was ever in an emergency without any of his guards. Some were able to turn into port-keys by a drop of blood but most were quick-note parchment that allowed him to write everything on his mind in a neat fashion upon the paper without having to actually write it. Draco was marked by the Creature of the Dark- and many families would send professional assassins out against him if they knew- but he was still the only Malfoy heir which meant that he was to be protected at all times despite personal feelings of his parents about his situation. Even so, he knew that his parents loved him and they didn't protect him only out of preservation of their line. Or he hoped so, at least, they just didn't openly show it all the time.

Draco tapped his wand against his chin thoughtfully, its tip already a sparkling red from the spell he was about to use after he returned his letter to regular size. His parents were Slytherins through and true; they had masks upon masks with effortless control whereas it was difficult for Draco to compartmentalize his real nature with one effective mask. It reminded him about how difficult his Sorting was.

Draco nervously waited in line. All he wanted to do is make his parents proud and be Sorted into Slytherin like the rest of his family, especially after what happened to him only a few years ago. It was still fresh in his mind like it happened yesterday, that, and his parents' initial reaction. His mum, Narcissa, fussed over him with the many Medi-witches she hired to look after him but she remained detached forever afterwards. It was like she spoke the words and went through the motions but didn't really mean them; she would smile at his attempts to be the Draco Malfoy son and heir they always wanted but her eyes were humourless. His father was worse. He locked himself up in the Library or his office and Draco literally didn't see him for months. He spoke even less than before and what he did say was more demanding, more stern and cool as if he wasn't talking to his own son. Lucius never touched him at all and retreated, politely of course, whenever Draco tried to impress him.

He knew other pureblooded children had it worse, some were beaten and abused at lesser "crimes" than he ever attempted. And deep down, he knew his parents did still love him and just were still coming to terms with what their son was now. But it was hard on him to witness this roundabout change. At least he could still pretend everything was alright when they rushed into his room whenever he had a nightmare or tenderly stroked his head when painful tremors attacked him. Even those were becoming fewer and fewer and he knew that, soon, it wouldn't happen at all. This was his last chance.

Faintly, he heard his name being called and he strode up to the stool with a weak sneer that he practiced. He spent hours in the mirror pretending to be the snobbish Malfoy that was expected of him. He just had to be in Slytherin, he had to after all that hard work!

"Well, well, well," the Sorting Hat said to him via telepathy. "This is a first. A Malfoy with Hufflepuff tendencies?"

Draco squeezed his eyes tightly. Oh no, oh no, oh no! He couldn't go there. That would be the absolute worst place to go, he would never earn his parent's pride no matter what if he was Sorted in Hufflepuff!

"It's not so bad. You would have plenty others who would understand your predicament and stand by you; loyalty is the Badgers specialty." The Hat continued. Understanding. Isn't that what he wanted from his parents? Maybe he could convince them...

"No," Draco answered in his mind. "I can't. I have to go to Slytherin, all of my friends will be there,"

"No, no, no. Hufflepuff I think it is. You're too sensitive for their kind," the Hat muttered back. Draco bit his lip in fear. This was almost worse than being marked by Sin!

"Please, you don't understand, I have to go to Slytherin! I need to!" he pleaded in his mind desperately.

"Not so loud. I can hear you just fine," it grumbled for a moment. He heard it sigh and then softly speak once again, as if taking pity on him. "Are you absolutely sure? Hufflepuff could give you many useful tips, Ravenclaw too for that matter..."

"Slytherin." He spoke succinctly.

"Very well," the Hat sighed. "Slytherin for you!" he boomed out loud and McGonagall lifted him off his head. Draco opened his eyes, not realizing that he had closed them during their conversation. The Hall was quiet for some time before soft applause came from his new House. He must have taken a really long time.

He looked up at Snape's curious expression and quickly looked away, fighting to contain a blush. He just knew he took a long time. Too long, probably. Now his parents would think that even the Sorting Hat didn't think him worthy of their House and thus attention and pride. He felt even worse when the small, skinny and not-scared-at-all Boy-Who-Lived had hardly touched the stool when the Hat proclaimed him a Gryffindor and nearly the whole school erupted into thunderous applause and praise, except for Snape and the Slytherins of course. It only proved that everybody seemed to have a proper place. Everybody except him.

Draco was pulled out of the memory by an impatient nibble on his fingers from his first school owl. He had an owl, or hawk, for nearly every occasion and several just for school; another protection devised by his cunning father. He smiled at the tawny bird and gently ruffled its feathers to earn a pleased hoot. "Sorry for keeping you waiting, Creedence, and thanks for, well, you know," Creedence blinked at him with sympathy. There was a reason why he avoided remembering that specific moment. It sucked him in, making him relive the horror he went through over and over on a loop until he could break out of it and go through a pity-party for weeks at a time if it was really bad.

"Anyways," he tapped his wand tip to the upper left corner, murmuring the words he wanted as he thought them. "That should be sufficient," he rolled the letter up and shrunk it again, hiding it under Creedence's collar. "It's for Father and don't bother waiting for an answer, I don't think he'll be too pleased anyhow." Creedence nuzzled Draco's shoulder, and with another hoot, took off. He sighed and turned around a little depressed by his memory visit and saw a flicker out of the corner of his eye. He ignored it and walked down to the Great Hall, oblivious to what he should expect.

By the time the owls were making their morning-mail runs, Draco had finished all of the breakfast he could possibly eat right now and moved his fork lazily around his empty plate. It would have vanished long ago, if he wasn't still "using" it. He reached for his goblet just as he received his schedule and looked over it quickly while he took a sip. It was nothing new, following the same pattern for most of his classes though, thankfully, there would no longer be any clumsy Gryffindors in his Potions class anymore. A second owl followed right behind and remained by his hand. He was jet black all around and glared imperiously at him, not offering his leg out for convenience. Draco smiled weakly at him, his red eyes unnerving him.

"Erm, hullo?" he greeted quietly, looking around the Hall. His mates shrugged off his behaviour, having gotten used to the fact that he was a bit peculiar for the average Slytherin but still of very noble blood-to their knowledge. The owl seemed to bellow at him, not hoot, it was so deep. In his mind, he heard the echoes of his late-night meeting: Indeed, hullo. He shivered and watched as the owl seemed to smirk at him before shimmering and shrinking. Draco blinked at it, looked around and snuck the shrunken owl into his pocket. This had Sin, or maybe it was more of a Tom thing, written all over it.

"Do we need to go?" Draco jumped as Blaise's familiar smooth voice spoke. He turned to his left to face him and cocked his head to the side slightly.

"Sometimes I really hate the rituals my father preformed," he said evasively, going back to not-eating.

Pansy snorted and stabbed at her eggs. "Now why would you say that, dear Draco?"

Draco bristled at that, an urge to both growl at her and itch his marks becoming paramount. He sighed and slowly swallowed down both with some difficulty and nausea. "Clearly it's very useful, but only to my disadvantage," he managed to bite out.

"Do you have a secret you wish to hide, Draco?" Blaise retorted, picking up on both his words and aura.

"Ye-no. No, I don't," he said, deciding to change what he wanted to tell them in mid-word. He looked at his empty gold plate and finally let it vanish, finishing his juice as well, to avoid his black friend's pinning and knowing stare. "Father knows anyway by now, he probably sent me that weird owl as an extra-protected secret howler, too,"

"That didn't feel like his magic," Pansy supplied.

"And that didn't feel like your normal response to him," Blaise smirked.

Draco sighed, feeling helpless as he rested his head in his hands. "All right, fine, go get my 'goons' and let's see if I can make sense of this," He got up without waiting for them; while awake, they all could sense his presence due to his overprotective father even without casting any locating spells. It was recent, something he still had to get used to, since it happened just before school. August 15th, to be exact, on the night of a new moon to both counter and also produce similar ties between his friends and him.

It was very Dark Ritual since it used wild, unmanageable and unpredictable magic and also blood from all of the participants. His father had spent days preparing a room just for the occasion. For an entire month before hand, the room had to have special wards cast every moon phase at midnight just so the ritual would work. And then, the night before the actual ritual, Lucius had to draw the Rune lines in chalk by hand to signify premeditation. It had the basic form of a five-point star with circles for the participants to stand in at each point and several different symbols that all looked like squiggly, intersected and dotted lines to Draco nearly everywhere else in the big circle that contained the star. And inside the star, lines connected the inside vertexes and formed a pentagon. That was where his father stood, chanted and directed him and his friends through the ritual.

His father, his friends, they all were bedridden for weeks screaming their lungs out and bleeding from nonexistent wounds. He was untouched, and trembled just outside the doorway from where they were kept watching and listening to their pain. Vincent and Greggory recovered first, probably because the magic only leaned their bodies up some, packing muscle instead of fat deposits, and all-together only improving their bodies slightly from their natural form. His father recovered next, merely suffering from great taxation on his magical core which was only serious for the first four hours. Then it was just recuperating from his thankfully-short coma. Blaise and Pansy, however, did not escape so lightly. The magic in the ritual affected their brains and "sixth" sense.

Blaise became more receptive to his aura, and sometimes if he concentrated and was at full-strength, he could actually sense his emotions. Brief, fleeting rushes of emotions but Blaise had gotten very good at reading him and those quick glimpses he received so that it was almost like reading his mind at times. Pansy was more in tune to his magic and all magic in general. She could sense it all the time and when she concentrated she could pull and siphon magic out of a person and send it back into nature or just hold onto pieces of it. She was the backup backup; just in case if Draco overpowered his "bodyguards" and the security spells, she would be able to pull out a relatively large sample of his magic to drain him and prevent him from causing maximum damage. In any case, he really should be grateful but it got a little annoying when your friends could suddenly read you better than your own parents and it was always whenever it would inconvenience you the most- not that his parents knew him so well. His mother was both afraid of him and afraid for him so whenever she had enough nerve to confront him it was never alone with him nor for very long. And his father had spent practically the larger portion of Draco's life researching anything that could come in handy for everyone's safety and despite knowing this, not having his father ever around had left its negative affects on Draco.

He sighed raggedly, pulled out of his deep thoughts in time to present the password to his secret dorm outside the Slytherin Commons; yet another security measure his father put in place. "Something wicked this way comes," he murmured halfheartedly to the portrait before it could ask. His friends changed it every year, usually making it a phrase or quote that was rather funny in an ironic sense. Draco was the most gentle Slytherin of all history, but that might all change now that he had been called to Apprenticeship. He stepped inside and sank into the nearest emerald chair, pulling out the shrunken mail animal as he waited for the portrait to swing open on its bronze hinges to let in the rest of the crew. He stroked it pensively, a twinge of happiness and calm going through him when it chirped pleasantly and in a slightly less overwhelming sound.

"I've never seen you before, nothing at all like you," he said softly to it, watching it blink its rather large and unnerving scarlet eyes at him seemingly in some form of understanding. "You must be one-of-a-kind, a magnificent creation." The owl hooted proudly, puffing its smaller chest feathers out in pride. Draco smiled at it, not daring to break the silence with the exception of words by laughing. He noticed that it wasn't completely one shade of a frighteningly deep black, there were feathers in the middle of his chest and on the tips of his wings a midnight blue or royal purple of a similar hue.

"Have you led us here to show us your new ability to speak to owls?" Draco almost jumped at the intrusion of Blaise's voice. Pansy tapped the edge of her lips once she entered and sat down in her chosen chair.

"What?" he asked uncomprehendingly. She just gave him more of a pointed look. "Oh." He quickly scowled and did his best to look haughtily annoyed by everything. "Sor- I mean, no, of course not, Zabini. I wouldn't even lower myself to be in a position to touch those filthy things," The owl he held trilled unhappily. "I don't mean you, of course, it's all an act. I'm sorry."

He gave a frustrated sigh and crossed his arms petulantly. "I hate this. I hate all of it, all of the pretending. It's so tiring," The owl's eyes grew a more expressive, warmer ruby and it curled up against Draco with a rumbling almost purring kind of sound. He suddenly felt like the shadows in the room were all straining to be nearer to him. His lips began to curl faintly despite himself. "Okay, alright, let's just figure out what Father sent now. Don't you have a message for me or something?"

His owl nodded slowly. Or seemed to, at least, with a long blink of its eyes. They sparkled even brighter, almost on the verge of glowing and he morphed yet again. This time he became a single, long, black feather with its own injection of a blood-like ink in both colour and substance starting to impatiently drip down the surprisingly sharp tip. It hovered in the air free of any grip with a fluffy curl stemming from its middle so that the very end wrapped around and brushed itself occasionally.

"Well, that explains why it felt so unfamiliar," Pansy all but breathed in awe.

"A creature able to preform transfiguration...I didn't even know that was possible!" Blaise hissed in excitement.

"Don't call him that," Draco retorted quickly, ignoring the urge to itch his hand or neck. He didn't realize that it was going to be this hard or draining on him to ignore the calls to defend Tom's subjects. His subjects, he corrected, since he was to be Tom's lover and pretty much equal. He only had enough energy to just avoid dragging himself across the ground by his hands and pick up a spare parchment that was floating around somewhere. Greg came up to help him, until he was waved back down by Malfoy to sit in his assigned place. It was a simple task, he didn't need any help. He hated feeling like he was a sickly child and being treated like so by his friends sometimes.

"I assume you need something to write on?" The quill bobbed happily in response and a suspicious sounding trill seemed to come out of its ruffled feathers. Draco almost laughed, but he had enough practice now to make it a habit not to do more than snort even in the company of his friends.

It attacked the parchment furiously, making very elegant cursive swipes and loops in a dark red. Suddenly it stiffened and slowed, like someone had taken it in their hand and was controlling it for a few seconds with short and clear movements. Then the quill popped into the large owl it was, rubbed cheeks with Draco, gave a hoot goodbye and seemed to have apparated.

"Amazing!" Blaise whispered and Draco smiled almost sadly. He was basically the nerd of the group, more Ravenclaw than anything and definitely the least in touch with his feelings before the ritual. He wanted to learn everything about magic whereas Pansy, the one with the ability that would have been perfect for him, had no ambition to further the studies in magic already whatsoever. Instead, she enjoyed preying on the helpless through the rumour mill and was the most Slytherin of them all. She would have terribly enjoyed Blaise's gift. And so the irony in his life goes.

"Don't make us wait or anything, Draco," she said, more interested in her nails at the moment.

"Give me a moment, love," he said lightly. "Let me read through it first, so I can give you the overview. You know how Father loves his details." He laughed as they all groaned out loud at that and began to view the script closer.

'Don't worry, only you can read this. I've carefully coded it in several different Languages that belong singularly to Dark Creatures; many of which only an intensely dedicated scholar, probably devoting his or her life to the study, could unravel just one specific word. Obviously as my Apprentince, you can read all of them. There, is that enough caution to please your father?

You needent have asked Professor Snape about his opinion on the letter, by the way. But I am glad you discerned him to be the reliable type. He is a hard man to read, which makes him a near-perfect spy of mine. I am very pleased with you.

Onto my real concern, meet me at midnight in the Forbidden Forest. You will find it much more comforting now over previous encounters since I have claimed you. I will send for you by way of magical Creature tonight, but I expect you to know the way afterwards. Less of a likelihood that people will see you loitering about after curfew suspiciously. Although, of course, I just know that you will take extra precautions so that won't happen.

Remember, I shall be in my Potter form for the rest of your education. It would be wise of you if you to note the differences towards one another during day and night times.

Your dearest You-Know-Who.'

Draco had to repress a shiver of anticipation and anxiety and swallowed to help his dry throat. 'What am I going to come up with?' "Um, well, uh, actually, it's nothing important. Just a reminder of the duties I am expected to uphold this year," he explained lamely, cursing himself silently. More than a few eyebrows raised up at that; obviously none of them fully believed him.

Pansy yawned and stretched herself loudly. "Well, this was both boring and anti-clamatic. I think I'll retire to wherever I'm supposed to be now-oh, and Draco, make sure you 'uphold' your speech abilities this year. Can't have you a stuttering wreck like Longbottom after all."

"He must have been sorted into Gryffindor for some reason," he half-heartedly apologized on Neville's behalf. For a Gryffindor, he wasn't entirely all that bad. The rest shook heir heads at him.

"Come on," Blaise started, getting up. "We might as well adjourn for class before we all earn points from Slytherin for being late."

Draco waited until every light was out before sneaking out again, this time grabbing a warm jacket to cover some of his less nice clothes since he was going out to the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night. He tried to be as silent as possible, tip-toeing through the common room, but he was pretty sure Snape knew he was up and about despite his efforts. The man was eerily like Dumbledore in that respect.

No one stopped him though. In fact, he encountered nothing on his way there; even the slightest of drafts in the dungeons was missing. Well, his scars started to tingle, but he didn't really think that counted.

He shivered once he stepped outside, but it wasn't because of the cold. He could feel Tom's presence in the air already. It was heavy, like a cloak with six different warming charms being placed on him, fluid and dark with a sensual spiciness that made his mouth water. Merlin, it was wonderful! For the first time, he felt like he didn't have to care, he didn't have to pretend. He could do whatever he wanted to do. He felt powerful and in charge. He felt like a true Lord. And he felt like maybe he could finally prove his worth to his father.

Then he heard a twig snap and jumped. Feeling his chest, squeezing the area over his heart with his right hand, he sighed once his heartbeat finally returned to normal. "Well, at least it was fun for the time being," he mumbled to no one as he drew his wand out in a defensive position. Better safe than sorry he had been drilled so much that it was now one of his own natural instincts. "I demand you show yourself!" He called out much louder this time, just proud that his voice didn't shake as much as his hand was.

"Congrats and greetings, sir Draco, you are off to an amazing start if what the Darkest Lord says is true," a rumbly voice responded, shaking nearby bushes with his movement until it finally stepped into sight.

"A centaur?" he gasped, deciding to ignore his statement and all the possibilities of its meaning in favour of staring at the typical human-shy species. It even came to greet him without any sign of a weapon or open hostility that all of his books had taught him to be customary of their kind. "Aren't you supposed to be Light Creatures?"

"Neutral, actually, we hardly involve ourselves with your kind," he responded without a skip. "And my name is Ductenze, your escort and guide."

"Yes, yes," he agreeded absent mindedly, studying his rather plain brown coat matted together in some areas and dull untended ebony hooves. For a Creature that lived in the woods, he was remarkably well kempt. "But why be my guide if you are supposedly neutral?"

Ductorenze gestured to the glittering sky barely able to be seen by human eyes through the thick canopy of the forest. "The stars foretold of a darker arrangement of my species when the Unicorn moon eclipsed Mars in an orbital pattern," Even though he understood next to nothing of what that was supposed to mean, Draco still blushed.

"Oh, of course," he muttered awkwardly, reaching the moment in time when he had run out of polite questions. "Um, shall we, then?"

Ductenze inclined his head briefly and began to turn upon his path. "I must warn you, sir Draco, despite our inclinations during this time period, the Darkest Lord's full presence is more overwhelming than we can handle. I will take you no farther than thirty-five metres to him,"

Draco easily fell into step with him, though that might have been because of his slowed pace. "But how will I know my way from then on?" he asked quietly.

"You will know," Ductenze said with the confidence that was specific to his species. "You have already sensed him from this distance, have you not? Soon the two of you will be inseparable."

"I hope not too soon," he muttered, shivering as the Forest suddenly seemed to grow darker, reaching out to grab him as it slowly grew. "Or my father might think I'm just loose," His centaur guide snorted, but thankfully didn't comment any further.

He was right though. After counting the fourth tree wrapped in ivy, his breath escaped him as if he was just punched in the gut. A faint tinge of darkness hit his nose and a giddy smile bloomed on his face as he looked back at Ductenze. The centaur was murmuring under his breath and his eyes were widened in awe. Draco almost turned to look behind him out of instinct before mentally rolling his eyes at himself.

"I apologize for my pause, we have yet a long journey ahead of us still, but you, my Lord, are starting to glow." Draco flushed in response to that compliment.

"Don't be overly polite, only the magically strongest of Creatures glow," he mumbled, even though he checked his hand subtly to see if it was possibly true. The highest aspirations he ever held for himself was to make his parents proud; never did it even cross his mind of being able to glow. He almost assumed that he was a squib once. Nevertheless, he didn't see anything. Not even a sparkle.

He sighed, hating how much he was hope's fool everytime. One would think that he had learned something by now. "Shall we continue on?"

Ductenze's confused gaze turned into one more stereotypically commonplace-something more airy-and trotted onward. "Of course, young Master." Draco shivered at the title, excitement coursing through his veins.

The wind started to smell like cinnamin before he could hear its sultry whispering in his ear like hissing snakes. It was only when he caught a glimpse of it, blue and silver, wafting in the direction that they were headed that he finally realized it wasn't wind. It was Tom.

"Tom," he whispered lovingly, starting off without warning. He wrapped his arms around the body that he knew to be Tom's, not caring that he was shorter and less skeletal but only just. "Oh, Tom..."

"Harry," Tom said, stroking his head with fingers of an adolescent. He felt warmer lips greet his forehead but the same swelling of delightful pressure rose up from his chest and into his throat. "Call me Harry now, love,"

Draco wondered if he was the only one that could hear the shaky breathing as he spoke. "Harry," he conceded, nodding. It felt just as right. He opened his eyes and looked into emerald green ones, not the blood-red he was used to. They felt just as right.

He blushed and untangled himself, not sure what overcame him. He wasn't like this. Not to someone he just met. This was the same kinds of things that he joked about with Ductenze. He looked out for his centaur at the thought of him but Ductenze must have ducked out to give them privacy a long time ago.

Those hands of a Gryffindor reached out and pulled his chin just as tenderly to look back at him. The feelings returned, but this time, he could control them better. Still, it was painful the way his heart clenched. "Do not question the feelings, Draco, they will only help you along your path. It will build trust. You need to trust me,"

"Just as I once needed to fear you?" he asked quietly, more bitter and blunt than he had ever been. He allowed himself the plebeian action of covering his mouth in shock and blamed it all on T-Harry's presence.

The green eyes turned jaded, cold and dark. But not at Draco, never at him, he could tell by the way Harry growled and glared at the ground. "Fear to equate obedience. Better to be feared than loved," he spouted off and sighed. "Yes, yes, it was once necessary as you well know."

"Then, then, are these feelings really mine?" Draco whispered, his voice so soft that he couldn't hear it once the words passed his lips.

"Yes," he hissed so fervently there was no doubt they were one and the same. Harry moved and collected their hands together. "They are ours. Ours, yours and mine alone. Truly, wholeheartedly, perfectly," he brushed the side of Draco's face as he spoke the last word.

Abruptly, the touch was gone. "Now is not the time. And we have so little of it. We must begin,"