Harry was examining the owls on display in the window of Eyelops when a flash of white-blond hair appeared in the reflection behind him.

"Draco—" He spun around, realizing as he spoke that it was the elder Malfoy who paused in the street and turned to him with a scowl of disdain.

"I am afraid, Potter, that you will find I am not the person you seek." Lucius looked down his nose at Harry.

"Clearly," Harry replied. He turned away, but found the head of Malfoy's walking stick upon his arm. He turned back, wand in hand. Despite having testified for the family, Harry felt no more trust towards Lucius than he'd ever had in his youth. "If I were you, Lucius, I would consider my next actions very carefully." Passersby withdrew from the vicinity of the adversaries with haste.

"What reason have you to inquire after my son?"

"I don't. I saw your reflection in the glass and mistook you for him," Harry replied.

"How could—" Lucius narrowed his eyes at Harry. "You've seen him!"

Harry's face was impassive. He watched a myriad of emotions cross Lucius face, until it settled into his general calculating expression.

"Mrs. Malfoy has been worried sick wondering of his whereabouts. If you know where he is—"

"I am afraid I don't know what you're talking about." While Harry had little doubt that Draco's departure had greatly affected his mother, he'd sooner cast a Diffindo charm on his wand hand than tell Draco's father where he was. Lucius' face flushed with anger.

"Where is he?" he hissed, taking a menacing step forward. Harry held his ground, only giving his wand the slightest twitch, but the movement was enough to give Lucius pause.

"I have told you that I don't know, Malfoy. Do not mistake my civility for frailty. I would assume that if Draco wishes for you to know his whereabouts, he will divulge them to you. Good day." Harry stared the elder Malfoy down until the other wizard gave him a curt nod and turned on his heel, striding angrily towards Knockturn Alley. Nervous onlookers slowly went on their way and Harry took a breath before turning back to the owl emporium.

"Harry?" he heard a familiar voice behind him and turned once more. "Good to see you, mate!" Neville Longbottom smiled as he caught up with Harry.

"Neville! How have you been?" The two clasped hands and gave a brief hug.

"I am well. No classes today, so I decided to stop in at Flourish and Blotts for a book I've been looking for. Just headed to the Leaky for a bite. Join me?"

"Why not?" Harry fell into step beside his school chum. They entered the Leaky Cauldron, and its recently new landlady, Hannah Abbott ushered them upstairs to a private dining area. Hannah knew that Harry rarely took meals in public, due to the onslaught of admirers seeking photos and autographs. She gave them menus and informed them that the specialty of the day was steak and kidney pie. They both asked for the special with butterbeer.

"So are the rumours in The Prophet true? You and Ginny have split?" asked Neville.

"Yeah. She left me. Although, to be perfectly honest, I think it was a mutual feeling. We're in two different places right now. We both want something different," Harry said, reluctantly.

"Different? Are you seeing someone else?" Neville asked. A waiter appeared with steins of butterbeer. He lifted his to his lips casually and took a sip, licking away the foamy head on his top lip.

"Me?" Harry scoffed. "No. Think about it, Neville, if I was seeing someone new, that too would be front page news."

"I suppose you're right. So, what was that little stand-off with you and Lucius Malfoy? Shouldn't he be bowing at your feet for keeping him out of prison?" He sipped his beer. Harry shrugged.

"Just Lucius being Lucius. Some people haven't a grateful bone in their body. I saw his reflection in the window outside Eyelops and thought at first that he might have been Draco."

"Really?"

Plates appeared on the table and Harry plunged his fork into the flaky pastry. Gravy pooled onto the plate. He took a bite and was pleased to note just how much the fare had improved since Hannah had taken over the pub.

"I saw him recently, actually," Harry said. He instantly berated himself for sharing this information, especially with Neville. He remembered how Draco had tormented his formerly shy and nervous friend when they were in school. Neville only cocked a brow as he lifted his fork to his mouth, and Harry wondered if the confidence the Gryffindor had seemed to discover after the war had tempered his distaste for the Slytherin.

"Did you? Interesting, given his rather reclusive and unassuming habits of late. Everyone assumed he'd gone to ground."

Harry gave Neville a curious look over his mug as he drank, but Neville continued to eat as if he'd said nothing out of the ordinary.

"Did you know that he's in America?"

"Hm. How did you find that out?" Neville asked. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought Neville faltered as he lifted his beer mug to his lips.

"I was in Boston on business a week ago now. And, well you remember, during Auror training, I discovered my relative, Iolanthe. We had a lovely visit. She's a special investigator for the DMLE."

They spent the rest of the meal discussing Iolanthe's family and MACUSA Aurors until Neville said that he had to get going in order to receive a fire call he'd been expecting. As they parted, Harry found thoughts of his encounters with Draco and Adrestia at the forefront of his mind. He needed to talk to someone who would hopefully understand.


"Harry! Come in! When did you get back?" Seamus asked as he stepped back to allow Harry to enter the upscale loft apartment that he and Dean shared near Charing Cross Road.

The loft was spacious and retained much of its original design, with walls of exposed brick and wood plank floors that had been stained and finished in a golden hue. There was a sculptural divider, which doubled as a large wine rack for an impressive collection of vintages, separating the sitting and dining area from a well-appointed galley kitchen. There was an industrial-looking metal staircase beside the kitchen with a turned landing halfway up the rise.

The walls were adorned with fantastic works of art, many of which bore Dean's signature. Taking advantage of the natural light that poured through the large windows, one corner had been set up as an art studio. A number of drawing pads were scattered about the room. There was a work table and a collection of easels where Dean sat before a large canvas, holding a palette and dipping a brush into bright yellow paint. He wore a pair of tatty, paint-stained jeans and no shirt. Harry couldn't help but admire Dean's tight, muscular torso, but when his friend and former roommate turned to put away his supplies, he was shaken to lay eyes upon vicious scars that striped his back—no doubt from the war.

Harry was so lost in the memories the sight dredged up, he hadn't realized that Dean was speaking to him.

"I—what?" he shook his head.

"Dolohov," Dean repeated. "Flagellum Ardere. He had caught me unawares, and I thought I was nearly done for, when Flitwick got him."

"My gods!" Harry gasped. "Dean, I—" Harry didn't know what to say.

"They're only ugly because dittany doesn't work on wounds caused by that spell. Hell, it could be so much worse. At least I didn't die." He shrugged, and gave Harry a meaningful smile.

"I suppose there is that." Harry smiled back. "Dying certainly isn't all it's cracked up to be." He laughed and accepted the seat that Dean offered on one of the stylish modern sofas. Seamus was sprawled across the other and Dean joined him, pulling him into his lap.

"I don't think I've ever seen a more affectionate couple," Harry remarked as he watched them.

"It still feels new," said Seamus. "Having 'im back. It took so long for us to even realize our feelings, and then Dean was on th' run. There was so much uncertainty. I didn't know where he was or if he was even alive. Th' effort to just make it through each day in the Room of Requirement sometimes felt like prison to me."

"I remember when the two of you saw each other again. I don't think Ginny even embraced me like that."

"I never wanted to let him go," said Dean. "He was my reason for never giving in."

"Mine too," said Seamus. He inclined his forehead to touch Dean's.

"So, how was San Francisco?" Harry asked, wanting to escape the maudlin memories of the past.

"Beautiful!"

"Amazing!"

"You never left the hotel did you?" Harry teased.

"Did too!" Seamus protested.

"We have pictures!" Dean added.

"Got some from outside the hotel room also!" Seamus teased.

"Oh, Merlin! You guys are incorrigible!" Harry laughed.

"And what exactly did you get up to after we left?" asked Dean.

"What he means, is did ye ever see Malfoy again?" Seamus grinned wickedly.

"I can't believe he simply 'recovered' the paintings without some kind of 'incentive'." Dean made air quotes to emphasize his point. Despite his effort to remain neutral, Harry felt a flush creep up his neck.

"Oh, look, love! He's blushing!" Seamus exclaimed. "What happened?" He let out a gasp. "Ye went back to tha club, didn't ye?"

"No, I did not go back to the club. We erm—" Harry studied the drawing on the page of the open sketch pad that rested on the glass table between them. "Draco took me to dinner."

"Dinner?" Dean and Seamus looked at him with astonishment. "Like a…date?" Dean asked.

"Well, I suppose. He showed up at my suite that morning with a directive to be ready at half seven. He'd reserved a room at Hampshire House. I had the lobster bisque and tenderloin. He had the garden greens, tenderloin medallion and lobster tail. The cabernet sauvignon came from his personal vineyard—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean interrupted. "Did you say Malfoy has his own wine label?"

"Apparently so. Fuoco Serpentino—he received the vineyard in Tuscany as part of his birthright. The wine was quite superb."

"So, tha's it, then? He gets Patty's paintin's back and then decides to buy ye dinner?"

"Erm…no." Harry hesitated.

"Oh, this is gonna be good!" Seamus slid from Dean's lap and the couple leaned forward. Harry's face grew redder.

"Did you shag Malfoy?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"Well…that depends on your definition of shagging," Harry replied, evasively.

"Oh, my gods!" Seamus exclaimed. "What happened?"

"I—it's complicated. I don't really know how it all happened. I just—oh, fuck all!" Harry slumped back into the sofa. Dean and Seamus exchanged looks of concern. They moved to sit on either side of him.

"Harry. What happened? Did Malfoy do something to hurt you?"

"No."

"Wait—you've never been with a bloke before—have you?" Seamus asked. Harry sighed.

"No." He looked at his hands. Dean and Seamus looked at one another again.

"Okay, Harry. Just tell us what happened. We're not here to judge," Dean encouraged. Harry sighed again and continued to look down.

"Well…after the meal, the driver took us to Draco's town house. We had a drink and I challenged him to a game of billiards. I laid a couple hundred quid on the table—"

"A couple hundred quid! You minted bastards are too much!" Seamus muttered. Dean shushed him. "Sorry. Go on, love."

"Well, Draco suggests a game of Truths instead of a cash wager. For each pocket, we ask a question that the other must answer truthfully."

"Oh, dear!" Dean declared. "So what happened?"

"It was really pretty tame, for the most part. Did you know that he had it on with Luna Lovegood third year?"

"Janey Mack! Are you serious?" Seamus exclaimed. Dean's eyes were wide.

"Yeah, and apparently, he also has a partner in this venture, but they have a confidentiality agreement which includes a spell to prevent him from telling who it is. Anyway, I told him about my disastrous first kiss with Cho, and shagging Ginny on the Quidditch Pitch after the Cup last year."

Dean and Seamus choked back surprised laughter, and encouraged him to continue.

"Then I—erm—I asked him what it was like—you know—kink."

"You did?"

"Ohhh…"

"What did he say?"

"Well, he asked what I wanted to know—about being a dominant, or submissive…"

"And?" asked Dean.

"I said I didn't really know, either or both. He asked me if I was sure, and when I insisted, he blindfolded me and…his voice…he just whispered…he was standing just behind me whispering—saying all the things that you all had said to me the other morning about how I'd stalked him and I secretly wanted him, until I just…and then we were…he was watching me, and I was watching him bashing the bishop…and he just kept talking…until we—" Harry took a breath. The memory of that encounter made him feel warm. "Well, we had coffee afterwards, and he fed his ferret—"

"A what?" Dean and Seamus both stared at him shocked at the sudden shift in tone. "A real ferret? Like the one—"

"He even named it Moody!" They laughed before Harry turned quiet again.

"So, it wasn't a proper shag then," said Dean.

"Well," Harry raked his hand through his hair.

"There's more?"

"Oh, yeah. There's more. When I apparated back to the hotel, I realized that I'd let Draco Malfoy get me to admit that I'd been attracted to him, and that I wanted him. Shit, I'd rubbed one off right in front of him because he'd told me he wanted to watch me get off looking at him!"

"Oh, Harry!" Seamus gently rubbed his back.

"I just wanted to get shitfaced, but before I could even do that, he's knocking on the door! I swear, I should have hexed him the moment he walked into the room, but he didn't look smug or calculating or any of that. I couldn't believe he hadn't even really pulled himself together before coming to the hotel! His clothes and hair were disheveled. I tried to rant at him for taking advantage, but he just stood there and took everything I had to say to him! So, I shoved him and that's when he pinned me to the sofa."

Dean fixed Seamus with another knowing look.

"He tied my hands behind my back, and I was still seething until he threatened me with a Langlock jinx. He said I was acting like a recalcitrant submissive and that my behavior was only turning him on, and…" Harry closed his eyes. "The feel of him on top of me…and then he was telling me how much he'd always wanted me, and…Merlin, he kept grinding against me! He sucked me off."

Dean and Seamus shared a gasp.

"Yeah, so…there's that…and, oh, yeah. The next morning, I shagged his girl."

"The one from The Horned Serpent?"

"Adrestia. He'd sent her with a personal invitation to the club."

"Soo…you decided it was a good idea to fuck her?" Dean asked. He'd turned, tucking one knee up, his arm resting on the back of the sofa. Harry shrugged.

"Well, she was there…and my tie was just…"

"You tied her up?" Seamus' eyes were wide as he asked. Harry shrugged again, wiping his hands over his face.

"I—I don't even—Merlin, I'm completely out of my depth! What does all this even mean? Draco Malfoy knelt for me! It took weeks for me to talk Ginny into it!"

"Tell me this, Harry." Dean stood up. "Do you regret what happened? Any part of it?"

"I—well, no. Not really. I just don't understand what it means—how I feel about it."

"Because it turned you on?"

"Yes! Every bit of it! I mean, he barely touched me at first. I was just standing there blindfolded with my hands on the billiard table, but the way he spoke to me…then…"

"Yes?"

"Well, when he had me, on his knees…it was so…I don't know…"

"You don't know what you want," said Dean.

"No, I don't. It's all just a clusterfuck."

"Well…you could always try it," he suggested.

"Y-you mean…with…"

"It's safer with someone ye know and trust," said Seamus.

"But that's only if you want to," Dean said. "If it will give you a better idea of whether this is really for you, we'll show you. Whatever you want—just watch, ask questions—if you want to try something…"

"Like…right now?" Harry asked. A slight ripple of excitement shot through him.

"If you'd like." Dean tapped his thigh and Seamus moved quickly to stand just behind him and to the side. Harry took this in with awe. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."


Harry followed them out of the apartment and down to the basement, where Dean pointed his wand at a heavy metal door. There was a grinding of bolts sliding, and the door swung open.

"This was the strong room when the building was a glassworks. The owner thinks it's disused and he doesn't have the combination," Dean explained.

"But with a little magic…" Seamus grinned impishly.

"Shut it!" Dean snapped. Harry started, unaccustomed to hearing his friend speak so harshly. He flicked his wand and a strip of fluorescent lights buzzed to life. "Go to your corner." Seamus scurried to the far side of the room where he knelt, touching his nose to the wall. Harry looked between them curiously.

"We have rules, Harry," said Dean in a much more natural voice. "I am the Dominant. In our room here, when we play, there is no talking." He raised his voice a bit as he looked in Seamus' direction. "Have a seat." He conjured a comfortable-looking club chair and Harry sat down as he stared around the room.

On one side of the room, built in shelves held an array of items that were mostly unfamiliar to Harry. There were sex toys of various sizes, shapes and textures. He wondered what could possibly be the need for a dildo as large as one or two of those on the shelf, but he was certain he didn't want to find out. He was, however, quite interested in the array of gags—ball gags of varying sizes, ring gags, penis gags—some of which he was certain would make one choke, bit gags, inflatable gags, and torturous-looking items that reminded him of a visit to the dentist. On another shelf were shackles, cuffs and coils of rope in a rainbow of colors. Harry gave a slight shiver when he spied the assortment of whips, floggers, canes and paddles hanging from the wall.

He turned his attention back to Dean, who was bending to whisper in Seamus' ear. Seamus disrobed and turned to kneel, facing them. Harry blinked and looked away. Despite having shared a dorm for six years, Harry had never seen either wizard completely nude. Now that he'd thought about it, despite the intent and result of their encounters with one another, Harry realized that Draco had not removed more than his shirt, and neither had Harry been completely naked. He cleared his throat and shook off the memory of Draco along with the tingling feeling that accompanied it.

"What's that?" Harry hadn't noticed the large wooden X that had appeared in the space before him.

"It's a St. Andrews cross," Dean replied as he stood before the shelf of gags. He selected a large ball gag and grabbed some leather cuffs.

"Come," he said, and Seamus crawled over to meet him in front of the cross. He lowered his head to the floor between his hands. "I'd had something else in mind when we came down," said Dean, coolly. "But, you are clearly in need of a reminder of how to behave in front of guests. Up!"

Seamus lifted his head and resumed a kneeling position, his palms face up on his thighs, back straight, eyes focused on the floor.

"Do we speak without permission?" Dean asked.

"No, Sir."

"Since you are incapable of controlling your tongue, I shall happily assist you." Dean roughly shoved the ball into Seamus' mouth, forcing his jaws wide. He pulled the straps through the buckle and tightened it. Seamus winced slightly, but Harry couldn't help but notice that his cock was no longer flaccid. Seamus liked the rough treatment.

Dean flicked his wand and the leather cuffs attached themselves to Seamus' ankles and wrists. He held out his hand and gestured for Seamus to stand. Dean pointed and Seamus placed his feet onto two small rests at the bottom of the cross and climbed up. Another flick of Dean's wand, and the leather cuffs were secured to the cross. Harry's breath hitched as he watched. Seamus was small of stature like himself, but where Harry was still rather lean and delicate, the Irish wizard had a solid, muscular frame and a round ass that Harry found rather inviting. He bit his lip in anticipation of what would happen next.

"He is beautiful, isn't he?" Dean's voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts and brought him back into the moment.

"Oh, I er—" he stammered. Dean laughed lightly.

"It's okay, Harry. If I didn't intend to share, I never would have invited you down here. By Godric, Seamus and I have talked on more than one occasion about how much we've fancied you." He smiled wickedly as he perched on the arm of the chair, idly tapping a riding crop against his leg.

"I—you—what—really?" Harry's mind was quickly turning into a jumbled mess once again. Dean laughed again and ruffled his hair before he stood.

"Don't worry about it, love. We know you're not interested—seeing as you only have eyes for a certain very blond, Slytherin." He smirked. "But if you were, I'd happily leave my chatty little bitch tied up down here while I took you upstairs and shagged your brains out."

At this, Seamus made a muffled noise and wriggled in his restraints. Dean huffed and slapped his ass with the crop. Harry jumped at the sound of leather meeting flesh.

"You can't be serious right now! Showing out in front of guests? As you are clearly desirous of punishment, I shall happily oblige you." Dean struck Seamus again. Seamus let out a muffled grunt, raising up on his toes.

Harry watched in awe as Dean struck Seamus again and again. Seamus writhed and pulled at the restraints that ensured he couldn't escape as his ass burned red. Finally, Dean dropped the riding crop and moved to stand behind Seamus. He kissed each glowing buttock and licked up Seamus' spine.

"Is Daddy's bitch proper sorry?"

"Mm-hm! Mm-hm!" Seamus panted. Dean lightly smoothed his hands over his ass and reached between his legs to palm his balls. Seamus let out a muffled moan, rocking his hips back.

"You took it well, love. Sir is pleased with the way you showed Harry how well you take correction." He reached around and began to stroke Seamus' prick slowly. Seamus shuddered and he murmured softly. Dean touched his wand, which he'd placed in his back pocket, and the restraints were released. Seamus went slack and Dean helped him down. He continued to stroke him off as he kissed his neck. "You want it don't you?"

"Mm-hmm!" Seamus leaned heavily against him, thrusting into Dean's hand. Harry swallowed hard as he watched, curiously aware of his own growing arousal. His hand went absently to his crotch as he kept his eyes locked on the couple in front of him. A thread of saliva dripped from Seamus' mouth, around the gag, and shimmered in the light as it slid over his rippled torso. Dean smeared it over his abs as he rocked his hips against Seamus' ass.

"Sweet fuck-all!" Harry murmured. He licked his lips.

Dean nipped Seamus' shoulder and let go of his cock, earning a dissatisfied whimper from his lover. He drew Seamus' hands behind his back and locked the cuffs together.

"It would be inhospitable and selfish of us to carry on in front of Harry. If you're a good little bitch, I promise to fuck you blind later. Go on." He pointed, and Seamus moved to a spot near the wall and knelt. Dean flicked his wand and the cuffs on Seamus' ankles were also joined together. Harry looked from Seamus to Dean. "You'd be surprised how talented he is at getting himself off, even without his hands." He nodded affirmatively at Harry's shocked expression.

"You look to be in need of relief yourself," said Dean, his gaze settling briefly on the bulge in Harry's jeans.

"Oh, erm…well…" Harry's cheeks reddened.

"It's okay, love." Dean took Harry's hands and pulled him to his feet. They stood so close that Harry could see tiny flecks of paint on his skin that he'd not previously noticed. "We won't do anything you don't want…but I can help you with that if you'd like." Dean gave him a hungry look. Harry looked over his shoulder at Seamus, who squirmed a bit, giving them a look of longing, his cock still at full mast. Dean touched Harry's jaw, gently turning his gaze back to him.

"This," he gestured to Seamus, and then around the room. "This is what our relationship is. We have an understanding that need not cause you concern. For you, Harry, this is about discovering yourself. You're turned on. Why?" Dean's voice was low and direct.

"Um…"

"Was it thinking about being bound and tormented, or…" Dean summoned a flogger from the shelf and placed it in Harry's hand. "Was it this? Do you like the feeling of power in that?"

Harry stared down at the leather flogger in his hand. He was surprised by the weight of it. He turned the handle and ran his fingers through the black and crimson falls. He thought back to Draco sitting on his legs as he bound his wrists, and the scrape of his fingernails against his scalp as he pulled his head back. He'd nearly lost himself fucking Adrestia, pushing her face into the sofa cushion. He shook his head and handed the flogger back to Dean.

"I think you know that I don't do power well. It doesn't really suit me."

"I know. Submission then?"

"I, erm…I suppose—yeah—no—yeah. Yes." Harry let out a nervous breath. Dean smiled.

"There's no need to be nervous," he said as he tugged Harry's shirt free of his waistband and lifted it over his head. "This is meant to feel good to you." He traced a finger along a scar that ran over Harry's collarbone. Harry shuddered. "Take off your clothes," Dean whispered.

Harry fumbled a moment with his belt, and then stripped off his jeans and underwear, kicking them to the side. Finally free, his member bobbed up toward his stomach. Dean's gaze fell on it and a wry smile crept across his face.

"Well, damn! It's no surprise why Malfoy fell to his knees for you so quickly." He flicked his wand and summoned a small bundle of rope. "We can do some amazing things with magic that would turn you into a quivering puddle of shagged out humanity…" He uncoiled the thin hemp and took Harry's hands, bringing them together in front of him. "But for your first real experience…" He made quick work of binding his wrists together. "I think the muggle way is best…" He removed Harry's glasses and set them aside, then pointed his wand at the ceiling and a heavy looking hook attached to a chain appeared above them. "Well, mostly muggle." He winked. "Obscuro!" Harry's eyes were suddenly covered with a tight blindfold. He inhaled sharply. "Harry?"

"D-Dean."

"I am here. Relax." Harry felt soft hands slide down his arms, and he let out a breath. Dean lifted his hands above his head and attached them to the hook. There was little slack and he found that even raising up on his toes was no help. "Harry."

"Y-yes?"

"Safe word?"

"Erm…" Harry couldn't think. Dean was tracing his fingertips all over his torso. Goosebumps prickled his flesh as his pulse quickened. Dean slid a hand up Harry's neck and into his hair. He felt his fellow Gryffindor's jeans against his member as he stood against him, curling his fingers around a fistful of his hair and pulled Harry's head back, exposing his neck to Dean's warm tongue.

"Harry." He licked his throat. "I cannot continue until you give me a safe word."

"Al-Albus," Harry whimpered.

"Very good. If there's anything wrong or uncomfortable, use it immediately." He released Harry's hair and stepped away from him. Harry started, straining to hear sounds of movement. Suddenly, the falls of the flogger landed gently over his shoulder. Each strand brushed over his back as Dean slid it slowly away. "How does this feel to you, Harry? Good, yes?"

"Y-yes." Harry panted.

Dean teased his backside with it. "What I gave Seamus was punishment, but there can also be pleasure in pain."

Harry felt a quick rush of cool air and the flogger whispered across his shoulder blades like a brush.

"In the right hands, an instrument of torture can bring exquisite pleasure." Dean swung the flogger gently, stimulating the flesh on Harry's back, and moving over his ass. Harry let out a soft moan. "See?"

"M-Merlin!"

Dean built up speed and intensity as he delivered a series of lashes, across his back, ass and thighs. Harry bucked his hips forward, panting.

"Oh! I—" Harry's flesh burned deliciously warm.

"Yes. Don't hold back, love." Dean said, a fine sheen of sweat dotting his forehead as he swung the flogger again and again.

"Oh! Mmm! I need—I—" Harry moaned as he writhed helplessly. Dean stopped suddenly, breathing heavily. "Wha—no! Please, I—" He turned his head about in his dark confines.

"Shhh! Be patient, love." Dean said. "Hold this." He pushed the handle of the flogger between Harry's teeth. "Don't drop it."

Harry whimpered with need, the rough leather felt odd against his tongue, and his cock was achingly hard now. He was close. What was Dean doing? He heard a loud finger snap followed by shuffling and a slight clicking of metal moving closer to him. Suddenly, Dean's fingertips were gliding over his hot and tingling flesh, sliding ever so lightly down his back. The scrape of his fingernails set him ablaze and he moaned loudly.

"Mmmmmmmm!" His legs trembled slightly. Dean wrapped his arms around him and raked his nails down Harry's chest as he pressed against him, his crotch pressed against his ass. Harry rocked back against him. Harry let out a gasp as Dean's fingers curled tightly around his cock and began to stroke it slowly.

"You're about to burst aren't you?" he whispered in his ear, grinding his hips against Harry's ass, denim tormenting his nerve endings, still frenzied from the flogging.

"Unh huh!" He mumbled around the flogger handle in his mouth.

"You wanna cum?" Dean asked. Harry nodded fervently. "I didn't hear you."

"Unh huh!"

"Say, 'please'." Dean pinched a nipple.

"Peashe! Peashe!" Harry mumbled. Dean took the flogger from his mouth, dragging the falls over his skin with agonizing slowness.

"Finite!" He whispered.

The blindfold that covered Harry's eyes vanished and he blinked in the sudden light. At the same moment, his prick was enveloped in slick warmth. He looked down, just able to realize that Seamus had taken him into his mouth.

"Oh, my—aah!" Dean struck him with the flogger again, and he bucked forward, pushing deeper against Seamus' throat and nearly toppling the still-bound Gryffindor. "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!" Harry's legs trembled as he inched closer to orgasm with each blow to his back, each stroke of Seamus' lips taking him deeper and deeper, Harry's cock hitting the back of his throat. Finally, Harry let out a guttural moan not too unlike a growl, and his entire body convulsed as he pitched over the edge of the abyss called orgasm.

"Well done, Harry!" Dean caught him as he released his bindings, Harry's legs gone slack, and eased him into the chair. "You are so beautiful!" he exclaimed.


"So, erm…how—how did the two of you get into this?" Harry asked later. He was curled into one end of one of the sofas, a fleece throw tucked under his chin. Seamus was similarly huddled at the other end of the sofa. Dean placed steaming bowls of miso soup on the table in front of them along with cups of green tea.

"I think I might always have had some inclination towards it," said Seamus. He sat up and took his bowl of soup in hand. "I just always kept it to me'self—it seemed kind of bizarre to be relatively unconcerned when I fell and injured me'self, or consistently blew up everything around me," he laughed. The other two wizards joined in, remembering the numerous mishaps he'd had during their school days. "But there's not a dominant bone in me body—remember what the Carrows did ta me fer refusin' to participate in their torturous detentions. I only went into hiding in the Room of Requirement because I thought they'd eventually end up killin' me in their efforts ta break me, and if Dean survived, he'd be shattered."

"I was still shattered, beloved—the sight of your face!" Dean frowned as he poured himself a cup of tea.

"Aye! Thank Asclepius for Madam Pomfrey's skill as a healer!" Seamus slurped his soup.

"If I'd always had an inclination for dominance, I don't think I recognized it until after the war. It frightened me a bit. I had a lot of pent up restlessness and rage. I didn't want to go home, because I didn't think my family would understand. They were so upset by my disappearance and all. Mum was smothering me. Dad kept trying to convince me to just live in the muggle world. He and I fought a lot, and my magic got a bit out of hand. I actually threw him into a wall and broke his collarbone! I'd never done accidental wandless magic—not of that sort. Mum was very upset, but I tried the best I could to explain that it wasn't intentional. Dad said that I was suffering PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder. He was in the Royal Marines, and said he'd had friends who had similar problems adjusting after their combat experiences—though clearly no magic was involved. It still was an overwhelming experience, and I was concerned about my sisters, so I moved out. They're really trying to be understanding about that, and they do really love Seamus, but things just aren't the way they were the first couple of years of school.

Anyway, Seamus and I struggled too, when we first moved in together. Like I said, I was trying to sort out this pent up aggression and it kept seeming to manifest itself sexually. I was really hurting him—rough shags, choking, hair-pulling and slapping—and he just endured it like he was in seventh heaven while I was wracked with guilt afterwards. I wanted to break up, but he suggested we take a holiday and get out of Britain for a while. I've always meant to ask, why the hell did you choose Germany?" He looked at Seamus.

"To be perfectly honest, I just pointed me wand at the map, and Frankfurt was the first city that leapt from the page." Seamus shrugged. He sipped his tea.

"Wily little bitch. I shall have to make sure that you pay for that later."

"You promise?" Seamus gave a little waggle of his eyebrow.

"Do you two ever come up for air?" Harry watched them with amusement as he ate his soup.

"Where's the fun in that?" Dean pulled a mischievous face. "Anyway, we got a bit lost one night and wandered into a kink club. It was like Oz! So much to see and do, and nobody thought it was bizarre. The Domina who owned it happily sat down with us and we learned how to make it safe, sane and most of all—consensual." Dean smiled and drained his tea cup. He was silent for a few minutes as he stared at the dregs of his tea, turning the cup a few times as if he was attempting to divine some secret truth at its bottom. Finally, he set the cup down and refilled it as he spoke again. "Harry, we all know your propensity for throwing caution to the wind when it comes to Malfoy—"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Dean held up his hand.

"Let me finish. You know that you do have a habit of rushing headlong into things when your emotions get involved—and you nearly always let your emotions get involved. However, you usually had Hermione's cool head somewhere nearby to bail you and Ron out. I'm guessing they don't even know that you fancy blokes, let alone this little new discovery," he said, gesturing to their little huddle. "I don't know how they'll react to all that, if you even want to tell them. That's your choice, but Malfoy—you know that's going to be a bitter pill to swallow—assuming the two of you ever pursue anything beyond that one little tryst. If you do decide to accept him and let him collar you, you have to keep your wits about you at all times. He may have helped you set things right with Seamus' cousin, but the fact that he has those types of resources says he's still an underhanded Slytherin."

Seamus leaned forward and put his hand on Harry's knee. "We love you, and we owe you our lives. We just want you to be careful, macushla."