Thanks for all the fav's, follows and reviews, beloved readers. And apologies for the late update… somehow this chapter was very difficult for me to write. Also I just started playing Skyrim. I rest my case.

Disclaimer: same old same old.

Chapter 6

Surely it wouldn't be all that hard to find a house as big as Malfoy Manor? Right?

Charlie remembered thinking these words. He couldn't have been more wrong.

He stood still, wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked around. At his left were trees, at his right were trees, behind him was a path that disappeared into the trees, and in front of him were… more trees. And he had no idea if he was even going in the right direction. In other words: it appeared he was lost.

Well damn.

He knew Malfoy Manor had to be somewhere around here. These lands, south of the Dragon Reserve, and north of a tiny wizarding village called Holtby, all belonged to the Malfoy family.

Holtby was the place Charlie had apparated to. It wasn't so much a village as it was a street, flanked by a colorful collection of old houses that were literally being held upright by magic. The people of Holtby went to Greenbury or another nearby town for errands, but the town did have a small pub and something that, with a little bit of imagination, could be called a marketplace. When Charlie apparated there, there was no market though – only a couple of kids playing with a scratched and obviously well-used Fanged Flyer from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Charlie nearly got his head cut off by the bloody thing.

There was an old man sitting on a low stone wall, watching the kids with a crooked smile on his face whilst smoking a pipe. He seemed like the kind of person who had lived in this village all his life. Charlie reckoned this man knew everything and everyone in and around Holtby, including the way to Malfoy Manor. But when Charlie asked him if he knew how to get to the mansion, the elder man just laughed.

"I wish yer good luck with tha', lad," the man said. "No gettin' in there if yer not wanted. Tha' is, if ya find it at all. If I were ya, I'd stay far away from there. Those folks are a right bad lot. On the wrong side in the war n'all. Nothin' good has ever come from tha' place."

"I think I'll be alright," Charlie said with a slight smile.

The old man took him in with a calculating and somewhat suspicious expression on his wrinkled face. "Well, it's yer funeral, not mine."

He pointed his pipe towards a dirt road that coiled through the open grassland into the woods.

"If ya follow tha' path ya'll get in the right direction. Tha's all I know. Never had business comin' any closer to tha' hellhole."

After properly thanking the man and wishing him a nice day, Charlie had taken the dirt road into the woods. The path had many sharp turns and forks, and looked as if it hadn't been used in ages. Charlie walked on instinct, trying to avoid walking in circles. Judging by the position of the sun, he had managed that much, but he had no clue how far or close to the Manor he was. For all he knew he had walked right past it miles ago.

Charlie wasn't an easy quitter, but he was starting to get the feeling it had been a bad idea to come here. He wanted to see Draco, but he was also thirsty and apparating back home was starting to look more and more appealing in comparison to wandering around through the woods in search of a place he probably wouldn't find anytime soon.

Although…

Charlie stopped when he caught a glimpse of something shimmering behind the trees. Metal reflecting the sun? He left the path and made his way through high bushes, until he reached another path that led to… the biggest house he'd ever seen.

"Wow," he muttered, his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows high. He knew the Malfoys were rich, but this was ridiculous. Malfoy Manor was not a house but a freaking castle. It was immense; built in a Gothic style, with two huge, identical wings; high, thin windows with white wooden sills; and pointed towers. It was build out of grey and reddish-brown stones. It could have been looming, with the stone ornaments and heavy shapes and colours, but it wasn't. The sun was low in the sky, burning lazily, the grass was as green as it gets and below the windows flowers were blooming in red, purple and pink, making the manor look like something out of a fairytale. It was beautiful, probably one of the most beautiful buildings Charlie had ever seen – and that was saying quite a lot, considering Charlie was a man well-travelled.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Charlie walked towards the huge cast iron gate. The Manor was surrounded by a high brick wall, and protected by bloodwards. Charlie could feel the press of ancient magic in the air. The gate was held close by two winged, iron serpents that ware coiled around the Malfoy family crest.

Alright, what to do now? The gate was closed and it didn't look like it was going to open anytime soon. Charlie figured he'd better not touch anything, just in case he'd be struck down by a lightning bolt if he did.

I have not thought this trough.

And he was bloody thirsty, so that didn't make things better.

Just when he was considering the pros and cons of shouting Draco's name – a lot of cons and very little pros –, the iron serpents moved and the gates swung open. Charlie blinked. That was unexpected, but fortuned nonetheless. Always nice when problems solved themselves.

He walked through the gate and made his way to the entrance steps. The door knocker was another serpent. He knocked two times and a sour-looking woman opened the door.

"Please follow me, sir," she said stiffly.

He followed the stately elderly woman, whom Charlie guessed was some sort of maid judging by her plain black robes and white apron, through a wide hall to a relatively small, light sitting room. The large windows were open, their blue veil curtains softly moving in the wind, providing a striking view of the immense garden. If Charlie's eyes weren't mistaking him he even caught a glimpse of a white peacock.

It was odd to realize Voldemort had once been one of the inhabitants of this beautiful manor; a place filled with light and colours and golden hues. Perhaps he had even been in the very room Charlie was in now. He could have sat in front of the fireplace with his snake draped over his shoulder. Death Eaters could have tortured a muggle in a dungeon right below Charlie's feet.

Charlie knew he should have felt more unnerved about it all than he did. But Voldemort and the Death Eaters were not here anymore, it was just a mansion; old, lonely and beautiful and nothing to fear. The only things that lived here now were Draco and the haunting memories only he could see.

Charlie found himself wondering how Draco could live here at all, after all the horrors that had transpired here.

The voice of Draco's maid brought Charlie back to the here and now.

"If you would be so kind as to wait here, sir, Lord Malfoy will be joining us soon. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Tea would be nice, thank you," Charlie said.

The woman nodded with pursed lips (Charlie was starting to believe the muscles in her face were incapable of smiling) and took her leave. Charlie was surprised Draco had a maid instead of house elves. Though now he thought about it, it could be that the ministry had sized the elves. House elves were rare and procreated scarcely. The Malfoy's elves were probably taken together with the magical artifacts when the aurors raided the place. Not a chance in hell the ministry would let such an opportunity pass.

The door opened and Draco came in, looking impeccable as always with black trousers, a grey button-down shirt (Charlie didn't think Draco even owned t-shirts) and his half-long hair straight and loose. His facial expression betrayed no surprise at Charlie's sudden appearance in his house.

Draco smiled the gracious smile of an experienced host. "Charlie," he said. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I had nothing to do today," Charlie said casually, as if he hadn't apparated all the way to Holtby and wandered through the forest for Merlin knows how long to get here.

"My boss gave me a day off," he added and he subconsciously rubbed the still-sore burn on his upper arm.

"Oh, I see," Draco said.

Charlie repressed the urge to squirm like an insecure schoolgirl who had just confessed her crush to the most popular boy in school – which was a ridiculous way to feel, since Draco was hardly popular nowadays. And Charlie did not like to think of himself as a school girl, nor any other kind of girl for that matter. Being gay did not equal being girly, dammit, no matter what some people thought. The first thing Ron had said when Charlie came out was: "but you aren't girly."

On a brighter note, it seemed Draco too wasn't as confident as he initially seemed to be. His smile had a nervous edge and he was playing with his ring, visibly searching for words.

"Well, erm… sit down," Draco said and he gestured towards the sofa's in front of the white marble fireplace. There were two of them, as well as two armchairs, matching the elegant blue-crème-and-golden color scheme of the room.

Charlie sat down on one of the sofas and Draco sat down next to him, just as the maid brought in a tray with tea and cookies.

"Thanks, Marianne," Draco said, as the maid named Marianne poured two cups of tea.

Marianne left with a nod and Charlie took a sip from his tea. Draco did the same, after having added a few generous spoons of sugar. Charlie smiled; it seemed Draco had a sweet tooth.

"So… no dragon business today?" Draco asked over the rim of his teacup.

"Nah. I got a little burn on my arm yesterday night so my boss practically forced me to take a day off and give my arm some rest."

"You got burned?" Draco looked disturbed, as if full comprehension of risks of taming dragons had just dawned on him.

"A little burn," Charlie emphasized. "Nothing serious. So, erm… do you have anything to do today?" he asked, eager for a change of topic. He did not fancy explaining Draco exactly how and why he got burned.

"Not really. I have some letters to write, but that can wait."

"Letters?" Charlie asked curiously.

"Just boring business-stuff." Draco gave a dismissive wave with his hand. "Some arsehole is threatening to sue my company, but it's sure to come right in the end. Even if he's going to persist, I literally have an entire army of lawyers at my disposition. Not all my father's legacies are troublesome… in fact some of them can be very effective when one's trying to get rid of certain problems," Draco said with a smug smile.

Huh, who would have thought that? Draco was a business man.

"Wow," Charlie said. "That sounds… absolutely awful."

He wasn't kidding. Draco's job sounded about as boring as Percy's. No, wait – that was not possible. Percy's job as a ministry official at the Department of Logistics, Wizarding Resources and Other Internal Affairs was so high on the ladder of awful no job in the world could possibly compare.

Draco chuckled softly. "Trust me, those were my thoughts exactly when I was still in Hogwards, no matter how much I liked to brag to the other Slytherins about the million-galleons company I was going to inherit."

Charlie smiled. It seemed Draco had been every bit the stuck-up prick Ron used to describe.

"But all in all…" Draco continued. "It's not that bad. And I can decide exactly when and how I conduct my business, since I'm the boss."

"And you can order people around."

Draco grinned. "That, too, is a plus."

Outside a peacock screamed and Draco winced. "I hate those bloody birds," he muttered.

"Why don't you just set them free?" Charlie asked, though on second thought that was a slightly cruel suggestion, since the birds were white as snow and wouldn't survive long in the wild.

"My mother likes them," Draco said with a slightly sad smile.

Charlie had completely forgotten Narcissa Malfoy lived here as well. He found the realization comforting. The manor was so big; he could only imagine how lonely it would be to live here all alone. At least Draco had his mother. And of course there was Marianne, though the latter hardly seemed like enjoyable company.

"Would you like a tour around the house?" Draco suddenly asked.

"Yeah sure, that would be great," Charlie said, genuinely curious to see the rest of the estate.

Draco led him through wide, ancient halls, past tapestries and antique furniture; marble staircases and chandeliers; and portraits of Draco's ancestors that followed them with haughty eyes.

"This," Draco said as he opened a set of white wooden doors, "is the ballroom. Mother used to throw parties here."

Charlie gaped. The room was breathtaking, with green marble floors, a high, lavishly painted ceiling and many golden-framed mirrors against the walls that made the room seem even bigger.

It was no wonder Ron always said that Draco strutted around Hogwards like he owned it. Living in a place like this must make everybody feel like royalty. Hell, Charlie was beginning to feel that way himself. He had expected that a place like this would make him feel tiny, but the exact opposite was turning out to be true. There was so much space the Manor gave Charlie the feeling that he could do anything.

It had to be showing in his face, because Draco gifted him a smile that was filled with an almost child-like joy. "I'm really glad you like it so much. I have to admit I expected you to find the house…"

"Excessively extravagant? A waste of space and galleons? A prime example of high-society opulence gone mad?" Charlie suggested with a teasing smile.

Draco blushed, which was totally cute. Charlie resisted the sudden urge to reach out and touch Draco's face.

"I wouldn't have put it that way," the blonde said, "but yeah…"

"Understandable," Charlie said as he thought about what Ron would say if he ever set foot in the Manor. "I have to admit that most of my family members would have reacted that way, except maybe Bill and Fleur. But personally, I think it's great that places like this still exist. People don't build like this anymore, especially not in the muggle world."

Draco looked immensely pleased, and Charlie felt a twinge of satisfaction.

"Well, in that case," the blonde said, "shall I show you my favorite room in the house?"

"Your bedroom?" Charlie couldn't resist saying. If there had ever been any awkwardness between them it was gone now.

"Not yet," Draco said with a smile that promised a lot. He wrapped his arms around Charlie's waist and apparated them to a scarcely furnished chamber with a red theme.

"This," Draco said as he let go of Charlie, "is the music room."

The room had a high, slanted white ceiling and a dark wooden floor. The walls were bare; there were no portraits or tapestries, just classic, red and silver wall covering. Thick, velvet red curtains framed the thin, high windows and French doors opened to a spacious balcony. Judging from the view, they were on the second floor. At the right was a huge, soft looking burgundy sofa, a simple but elegant glass vase with white roses, a cello and a harp. In the center of the room stood a grand black piano.

"I used to spend a lot of time here when… things were rough," Draco said as walked towards the piano. He rested one hand on the smooth, glossed wooden surface, with a distant look on his face.

Charlie could only begin to imagine what Draco meant by 'rough' and inwardly shuddered. Even though he was curious, he decided against asking for elaboration and instead sought for words to distract the blonde from whatever painful memory was playing before his mind's eye. A thought occurred in Charlie's head and the question slipped out before he knew it – "Do you play?"

Draco looked up, a small tugging on the corner of his mouth. "Matter a fact I do. Incredibly well, if I may add."

Charlie smiled. Of course the bastard wasn't going to be humble about it. Draco had set some expectations though, and Charlie couldn't resist challenging him.

"Well then, maestro, play me something."

Draco smirked as he sat down graciously on the bench. He ran his fingers over the keys. "Any requests?"

Charlie did not know if Draco was consciously testing his musical knowledge, but either way he'd be in for a surprise. Charlie knew his classics.

"Chopin's Nocturne No. 20 in C minor."

It was a famous piece, known in the wizarding world and muggle world alike, though the muggles did not know Chopin had secretly been a wizard – one with large musical ambitions who wanted to gain fame outside the small confines of the wizarding world. Now it was Charlie's turn to test Draco, because if he truly played as well as he boasted, he should surely know how to play at least a part of this piece from memory.

If he hadn't been watching very closely Charlie would have certainly missed the surprise that crossed Draco's face for the briefest of moments. Then Draco's lips curled into a smile that said: challenge accepted. His fingers started moving, stroking the keys slow and gentle. The melody began, as perfect as Charlie had ever heard it.

As melody changed, Draco's movements changed along with it. He could do it all, every single emotion in the spectrum: tenderness, melancholy, hunger, passion, even joy. Charlie was captivated, complete and utterly captivated, not only by the music but also by the way Draco moved. He hands danced over the keys as if it was the only thing he lived to do. But it wasn't just his hands: his whole body moved in perfect sync to the melody, much like a true master of the instrument would. From time to time, his white-blonde bangs fell across his eyes but he barely seemed to notice it, completely emerged in his playing save for the occasional coil glance in Charlie's direction – glances that went straight to Charlie's groin.

Draco was purposely trying to seduce him, Charlie was very well aware of that, and dammit if it wasn't working. Charlie's brain felt numb and there was a tightness in his pants that felt entirely inappropriate in a chamber as old and stately as this music room.

And was that a smirk Charlie saw on Draco's face? The arrogant bastard! He knew just how affected Charlie was and he loved it.

Perhaps Charlie should teach him a lesson.

As the last notes of Chopin's masterpiece ghosted away, Draco smoothed into a new piece; one Charlie didn't recognize. The melody was slow, sensual even, and Charlie would bet his wand Draco had chosen this piece very very deliberately.

Charlie could work with this. With a faux-innocent expression his face he moved towards Draco until he was standing behind him. He lazily stroked Draco's back before sitting down on the bench next to him, his legs on opposite side of Draco's. The blonde looked at him with intense eyes for a moment, but did not stop playing. Then he looked away, his eyes on the keys as if Charlie wasn't sitting just a few inches away from him.

Charlie recognized a challenge when he saw one.

Charlie reached out with his right hand and caressed Draco's left cheek, trailing his touch all the way down the sharp line of his jaw and then his throat. Draco breath hitched, but he kept on playing, determined not to let Charlie win.

But it was a lost game, really, and they both knew it.

Charlie leaned in slowly, allowing his breath to grace the side of Draco's neck and delighting in the slight shiver that ran through the blonde's body. He slid his hand up the smoothness of Draco's throat and gently took hold of his chin, tipping his head back slightly.

He leaned over Draco and brushed his lips against the blonde's, but he did not kiss him – not yet. He just breathed, while Draco continued playing, though even to Charlie's relatively untrained ears the melody sounded strained.

Charlie nipped at Draco's bottom lip with his teeth, his hand on the blonde's jaw. Next he started trailing fleeting kisses along his jawline, and his previously unoccupied left hand moved to the small of Draco's back, sliding under his shirt and rubbing the warm skin there. Charlie let his mouth hover over Draco's again, their lips almost touching, and this time, Draco gave in. The blonde slammed his hands down on the keys in a musical equivalent of 'fuck it all' and kissed Charlie hungrily.

Charlie smirked against Draco's lips and straddled him. It was a bit awkward, on the small but thank Merlin solid piano bench, and the edge of the piano was probing in Charlie's lower back, but he really couldn't care less. All that mattered was Draco's sweet, fiery mouth and the strong hands on Charlie's tights.

But it could not continue like this – Charlie wanted more. And Draco shared that sentiment, if the eager hand that expertly drew down the zipper of his fly was anything to go by.

"I want to throw you onto the floor and fuck you until you see stars," Charlie groaned huskily in Draco's ear.

Draco cocked an eyebrow, his silver eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm a Malfoy, Charlie, we don't do fucking on floors. We have king-size beds for that."

Charlie felt a sudden and uncomfortable tuck behind his navel, and before he knew he was lying on top of an enormous bed in an equally enormous bedroom. The sheets were a dark, deep green color and were so cool and soft they couldn't be anything less than pure silk.

Draco crawled on top of him, his wand in his hand. He murmured an incantation and his clothes disappeared, so that Charlie could see his body in all its glory. Draco's hair and skin glowed in the sunlight that was streaming freely through the windows, making him look like something that had just descended from heaven.

Draco dangled the wand in front of Charlie's nose. Charlie understood the hint; he took the wand and preformed the same incantation as Draco just had, so that they were both unclothed.

Charlie's hands kneaded Draco's tights as Draco slid his hands over Charlie's muscular chest, scratching the skin with his nails.

"You – are perfect," Draco purred and pressed their bodies together. The blonde sucked on Charlie's neck for a moment and then bit down, leaving a mark. Their lips joined together again in an open-mouthed kiss and Charlie felt his control slipping away. He had to have him – now.

He took hold of Draco's hips and sat up, trying to change their position. Draco wouldn't have it though. The blonde put his hands on Charlie's shoulders and pushed him back down with surprising strength.

"No no, we're going to do this my way," Draco said with an almost feral grin, causing a hot, exited shiver to run through Charlie's body.

Draco accio'd a bottle of lotion. He kissed Charlie slow and sensual while he coated Charlie's already rock-hard cock with the lotion. It was pure bliss, and Charlie felt as if he was up somewhere high in the clouds, with only warm, devine softness surrounding him.

Then Draco's lips left his, and Charlie missed them instantly. The feeling of loss did not linger long though – Draco sat up, licked his pink, swollen lips while gazing at Charlie with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and sank down on top of him. Charlie gasped loudly. It was tight; so tight that he couldn't tell left from right anymore.

"Oh fuck, Dra –"

He didn't even get time to finish the last syllable of Draco's name because the blonde rolled his hips forward and pleasure shot struck Charlie's body like lightning, affecting every fiber of his body and leaving him unable to do anything but grip Draco's milky tights hard and surrender.

Draco pressed his eyes close and moaned open-mouthed when he found the rhythm that pleased him most. He was holding onto Charlie's shoulders to keep himself upright and his sweaty blonde strands were sticking to his face. He moved expertly, rolling his hips and clenching his muscles around Charlie's cock while he stroked his own.

Through it all Charlie briefly wondered where the hell Draco had learned how to do this – then he decided he did not want to know – and then there was too much pleasure to think anything anymore. He spilled deeply inside the blonde, crying out Draco's name, and vaguely registered something hot and sticky splattering all over his toned abdomen.

Charlie had a hard time coming back to himself. He couldn't do anything but lie there on the heavenly cool sheets, panting, with Draco still on top of him.

Draco pulled himself off of Charlie with a soft hiss of pain and lay down next to him; one arm draped across Charlie's chest and his cheek against his shoulder.

"Bleeding hell Draco, you're going to be the death of me…" Charlie said, still slightly out of breath, and he wrapped his arms around the blonde, needing to feel as much of him as he could.

Draco chuckled; it was a lazy, satisfied sound and Charlie didn't think he'd ever heard something so beautiful.

"I don't know about you, but I don't think there's any way I'd rather die," the blonde said.

"Yeah," Charlie breathed in agreement. His thoughts felt slurred and fuzzy and he couldn't think of anything clever, sexy or otherwise impressive to say. Instead of that he said: "I should come over more often."

"Hmmm…" Draco hummed as he gently traced the contours of Charlie's dragon tattoo with his index finger. "Perhaps you should."

A silence fell, warm and stirring with unspoken understanding and a silent agreement. Charlie moved his head so that he could kiss Draco, and it felt so natural and right Charlie knew that if somebody was to accuse him then and there of falling in love with Draco, he would agree with them. And he would be happy to do so.

- TBC -

Review pretty please? I'd love to know what you think of Draco and Charlie's dynamics; as well hear your expectations and wishes for the future…