Back again! I do believe I am going to try and make Mondays my update days. So look forward to a new chapter every Monday (or at least as of now). That being said, I want to thank all that have expressed interest in my story! It fells fantastic to know people enjoy what you are making. Also, many of you are going to be shocked if not angered by this chapter, so please don't hate! ENJOY! And please continue to review and let me know how you like it or what you would like to see in future chapters! THANKS!

AlSO! If enough of you express interest...I will post a link next chapter to some of my own Harry Potter fan art... Im a professional artist...if that is any incentive. ;)


When most think of a true dominant man, many would think of tall, they would think large, maybe beefy or muscular, maybe with cool controlling eyes, an attitude about them that they were in charge. When pondering such a man, many would think non-yielding possibly, dressed in leather head to toe and a deep voice to demand obedience. A man that entered a room and instantaneously demanded the attention and devotion of their submissive match, who most certainly did not take no for an answer; a true manifestation of control. Sir Lev, however, was anything but.

When Harry had hesitantly stepped into playroom seven, he was preparing himself for the worst. Someone strong, harsh, intimidating; anything but what he was actually met with. Though still taller than Harry, Sir Lev was considerably shorter than any other 'test run' the Dragon had put him through thus far. As well, this new Dominant man was rather slim considerably, and though he had muscles, definitely not many. He was leaner than Malfoy, that was for sure. Still sizing the man up, Harry cocked a small smile in the other's direction, where he was inclined on the sofa towards the back of the room. Sir Lev responded with a mirrored smile, not moving his relaxed position in the slightest. His grin seemed kind enough.

"Hello Harry." Sir Lev's voice was cool and collected, and though Harry found it hard to admit, did maintain a level of confidence that only a Dominant man could withhold. Harry awkwardly tilted his hand in a stiff wave, not moving from his spot in front of the door. He heard the lean man laugh. "Oh don't appear so out of place." He patted the cushion beside him, in invitation for Harry to take a seat next to him. Taking a deep breath and wetting his lips, Harry listened and made to move over to the leather sofa.

Once seated, Harry turned his head to take in the new Dominant. Like he initially thought, Sir Lev looked nothing like he would have expected, especially after the Dragon's spiel on how rough this man could be. Yet, honestly, this man looked none more intimidating than Harry himself. Short buzzed cut dark blonde hair, a lean long face, paired with a long straight nose, and even clunky black framed glasses. Not an inch of leather in sight. Nope, instead he wore khaki trousers and a black polo cut shirt. No, this man looked nothing like the man Malfoy had headed him about.

"So Harry, the Dragon told me you were a rather tricky client," Harry watched as he cocked a brow and maintained his pleasant grin. He decided it was nice, truly, yet overly so, "said you've already been through many another employees." Lev chuckled then and placed his hand over the top of Harry's knee. Harry cocked his head to glare at it. "Now what I want you to do for me, Harry, is to tell me why you didn't feel compatible with the other men."

Sir Lev spoke calmly and evenly, his level smile never once faltering. Harry didn't know what to feel. In the turmoil that was his emotions and thoughts, he felt anger, lost, confused, let down, and most importantly hurt. He didn't want to tell this man his secrets, didn't want to let him know how picky he had been with the other Dominants, nor what he felt they lacked as an appropriate match for him. Besides, what was even the point anymore? What was going to make this man any more compatible than all the others? Harry doubted very much that this scrawny excuse of a Dominant was going to do anything for him. He was positive anyhow on what he wanted, however, he was tentative about one thing he desired, and as none of these men had been a certain blonde…

How dare Malfoy force this on him, this all too confusing situation?

Now more than ever, Harry was fuming at the blonde. How dare he force this deviant kink on him; tell him that he needed it to be truly happy. How dare Malfoy give him a taste at how it felt to feel at ease, to not have to think so fucking much, even if just a second, then take it all away with failure after repetitive failure. Yet, more than everything else, how dare the bastard make Harry have feelings for him?

Had he imagined it then? The kindness of the other man? The pleasant smiles and understanding looks? The patience and kindness? Had Harry all but imagined that Malfoy too had developed something for him? Had Harry completely forgotten the snarky ferret of a crooked man that lay beneath the service of a kind smile here and there? Had he misunderstood a business arrangement for a real connection? For all he knew, Malfoy lead along all his clients; took them under his wing, eased their pain, took them out to dinner, kissed them too? For all Harry knew, at this very moment, Draco could be escorting his Timmy to the very restaurant he and Harry had been the night before.

The more he thought about it, the more it hurt.

"Harry, you will tell me what you want." The pressure on his knee tightened and he focused his eyes back up to the other man, Sir Lev. He should be focusing on this man, not the teasing Dragon. Not what ifs. No, Lev was to be his beacon now. Malfoy had made it painfully clear that he was not to be the one to help Harry. He made that clear long ago. Why would a drunken kiss make any difference? How could one kiss and some confusing feelings change years and years of hatred between the two. Yes, Draco Malfoy could be no more than the owner of the establishment Harry attended. A business associate, if you will.

"I'm sorry Sir, my head is somewhere else." Harry swallowed the knot that had manifested itself in his throat. Desperation tasted dreadful.

He then watched as Sir Lev nodded, in understanding, before standing to hover over Harry. "Harry, what is it that you want in a Dominant partner." He smiled, "I want to help you." Sir Lev's words were spoken slowly and simple, as if he were explaining something to a young child. Harry returned his smile, anyhow, with a tentative one, no longer wishing to ponder what ifs.

"I want Sir, I need," Harry corrected then stopped, not knowing how to answer the persistent question. What did he want, need? He knew he wanted to relinquish control, had from day one, but what else?

"Its ok Harry, it's ok not to know what it is you want. Sometimes," he gestured to the room as a whole, "it's a matter of learning as you go, so to say." Lev then pushed his glasses up his nose, Harry felt inclined to do the same. "It's my job, as the Dominant, to help you safely to discover what it truly is you need for such a release." His eyes never strayed from Harry's. Harry felt at ease, reassured, as the man continued on. "I've read your file. The Dragon is always thorough on gathering the information that is needed in gauging a sub." He chuckled, "Your file is much thicker than that of even clients that have been with us for years." For the first time since entering the room, Lev looked away from Harry to gaze at the wall to his left, "Draco has studied you greatly. It's dangerous for anyone in this business to become too interested in what they are…studying."

He stabbed Harry again with his eyes, "But you guys know each other." It wasn't a question. Lev smirked slightly, appearing as if to hide laughter, "I'm rather familiar with your history actually. You probably don't remember me, I was a couple years above you two at Hogwarts."

Harry's head shot up then to smile at the other wizard, "You went to Hogwarts?" He laughed, thrilled to have something to talk about, other than his own needs, with the strangely intimidating man, "Really, what house were you?"

Lev let out an embarrassed scoff. Harry was slightly startled to notice a light blush mare the man's strong cheek bones, "I was in Hufflepuff believe it or not, I was a third year when you both were first years." He peered down at Harry, quirking his eyebrow and given a most mocking sneer, "You brought a fair amount of drama to the school Mr. Potter." His face dropped the coy mask to smile again in Harry's direction, "Thank you Harry, by the way."

Harry didn't need to ask what for, so he nodded and hoped the man wouldn't focus on his importance in saving the Wizarding world. He didn't want that burden. He didn't want to be known as the savior, at least not all the time. He was proud of what he had done, of course, but that wasn't all he was. He perked up then, "Sir?"

"Yes Harry?" His voice dropped back to cool and controlling as he sat back down.

"I know of something I want, when we are in here." Harry gestured to the small room, "I just want to be Harry. I don't want to be treated any differently because of who I am or what I did." He removed his glasses to rub at his face. He felt tired and sick. "That was a problem with some of the others. They got too caught up on who I was, as the savior, and couldn't completely take control sometimes." He placed his glasses back, yet kept his head leveled down.

"Good Harry." He felt, rather than saw the Dominant smile, "So that's where we will start, just Harry."

They then talked for three more hours.


The Dragon seemed to charge through the empty hallway as he stalked back to his office, listening for what seemed like the hundredth time for a damn alarm that had yet to sound. The impatience and eagerness for such sound was exactly what had been his performing downfall. He had let himself become too distracted, too involved on someone else, to implement his duties to commendable standards, as per the norm.

Timmy was weak, pliable, and routine. Timmy was easy. When it came to a usual, Draco didn't have to fret about what he was doing right or wrong. He didn't have to second guess himself, nor question if what he was doing was pleasing to the receiving. Timmy wasn't meant to be challenging.

For a year now Timmy Barns was a usual of Draco's. He came about once every two weeks, Draco would see him, and then he left, no drama, no confusion, no feelings. Timmy was boring. Every two weeks it was the exact same thing. The obedient submissive would patiently wait in playroom twelve, stripped naked and kneeling in proper position, on his knees and head bowed, in preparation for Draco to arrive, until the owner entered. Once there, Draco would pat the other on the head, tell him he was a good boy, and then usually follow through with a moderate flogging, or, if the other was up for it, a whipping hung upon the cross.

It was nothing more than simple kink for the boy. Plain and simple the man got his rocks off from Draco's service. Most of the "Dragon's Keep's" clients were much the same. Only a handful of times had Draco encountered someone desiring something more, something his business hardly knew how to handle, or rather, how Draco knew how to handle. Timmy was always such an easy client to dominate, he was a good little sub, and never before had Draco ever had a problem with him. That is, until he himself fucked it up this afternoon.

He entered his appointment, ready to settle his swarming thoughts with mindless routine, only to leave the playroom more mentally disordered than before. As soon as he was faced with the other sub, patted his head, the rest was careless mistake after careless mindless mistake. Timmy was a good client though, if he had noticed during scene, how off his dominator was, he said nothing. Just maintained his kneeling position as Draco prepared the cross, said nothing as the other carefully locked the smaller man into place, and reacted accordingly as the Dragon mindlessly took the leather whip across the other's back. It wasn't as if Draco was being overly harsh, but rather he paid no mind to properly reading the other man. He had let his own mind wonder, to impeccable messy hair, green eyes, and an alarm that never sounded, and paid little mind to the dark haired man under his yielding whip. Once done, Draco had paid extra close attention to healing the lashed and bloody back of the whimpering submissive, thankful the other was too far into his sub space to speak.

Once safely back in his office, Draco let out a scream of frustration, pulling at his hair from the roots, and gritting his teeth together until his jaw ached. He threw himself down onto the couch and curled himself in the blanket that still remained from the night before. He felt weak, out of control, and more lost than he had since the war, and it was all Harry sodding Potter's fault. Saint Potter.

All at once, Draco felt like the lost child he had once been. The angry soul that had no sense of control or hope of what was to be had crawled back within him. He bit his lip. How it was that one kind smiled awkward man could throw his world off kilter as the Dark Lord once had, he had no idea.

He slammed the back of his head down roughly onto the arm of the couch, once, twice, three times, before burying his head beneath the blanket, shielding himself from the world. He rolled his eyes at himself. He was being utterly too dramatic. No, his feelings for Harry were most certainly affecting him nowhere as much as having the Dark Lord reside in his life. Surely not. Besides, no longer was Draco a child. He controlled what did or did not happen in his life now. He was the Dragon, the owner and most requested Dominant in all of wizarding London. He was solely in charge of his life, him, Draco Malfoy, not his father, the Dark Lord, and most certainly not scrawny charming heroes. Harry Potter did not have such a power over him.

He screwed his eyes shut and pushed away the desire to scream again. He had to pull himself together. He had a reputation and business to withhold. He had clients he had to schedule and assign. He had rooms that needed maintenance and cleaning, employees to care for, and boys to get out of his mind. What Draco needed was a damn drink. Yet pleasantries could wait until business was done.

He pulled out his wand from his pocket, whiles still laying prone under the blanket, and muttered a tempus charm. Nearly three hours then. Much longer than any other appointment thus far. He shakily breathed in through his nose and then out from his mouth, listening closely for the alarm once again. Still none came. He laughed and foolishly berated himself for hoping to have heard it. It was a good thing, he had to remind himself, that no such safe word alarm had rung. This was a good thing.

Draco hugged the blanket closer, still listening. He was only awoken from his fixated trance, however, by a tentative knock on his door. He quickly shot up, flattened his wrinkled clothing, straightened his tie, and not so calmly angled himself in front of his desk and perched on the corner, "Come in," and his voice most certainly did not crack. Merlin.

Suddenly a nervous Harry Potter stood in front of him, head bowed and feet scuffling. Neither said anything, Draco simply sat waiting, and Harry not quit able to find the proper words. Finally, Harry walked over to his usual seat on the couch and began mindlessly fiddling Draco's blanket with the tip of his wand. Draco patiently watched the other turn the blanket multiple different shades and colors, before speaking, "So?"

Calmly, the other boy looked up from his doings of the now, Gryffindor colored, blanket. Their eyes met and Harry let lose a rather forced, yet seemingly peaceful, smile, "We talked," Draco watched as his smile grew stronger, more confident, "we simply talked. For three hours, we talked." He laughed, a sound of disbelief.

"You talked?" Draco figured he wasn't fooling anyone, he was rather shocked. He understood that Lev was extremely thorough, as well as cautious, with his submissive, but to talk with one for three hours straight? He trusted him, however, to know what he was doing.

"Yeah, he actually seemed to care. He told me he wanted to make sure he knew exactly what I wanted before he laid a hand on me." Harry remained smiling as he went on. "I don't know why you were being so cautious of him Dragon Sir," Draco watched as Harry bit down on his lip, "he honestly doesn't seem that tough."

Draco felt uncomfortably chilled, as if someone had charmed a bucket of ice cold water all over him. His voice morphed to that of an indifferent business like tenor, "That's acceptable then I assume? Is Sir Lev looking to be a repeat?" He chided himself for hoping that Lev would be tallied up as number twelve on Harry's list of failures. He doubted, however as the slightly charmed smile remained on the other's face, that that would be the case.

Harry's face dropped his smile and morphed to a sympathetic persistent gaze. The owner felt as if the other man was searching his very insides; looking for something, finding it, and losing hope of ever fully obtaining it, "Yeah Draco, I think I am going to stick with Sir Lev," Harry lowered his eyes, something of which Draco was grateful. He felt penetrated. "At least he seems to care, that's something at least." Harry then sat up from his spot on the couch to stand in front of where Draco balanced on his desk, "Unless that is, you think otherwise?" Draco watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, Harry's eyes again searching for something within his own. Before the other could find it, however, Draco closed his off.

"Nothing," Draco now found the still red and gold blanket much more interesting than Harry's persistently searching stare, "Other than of course, congratulations." Another stare off commenced. Neither willing to speak what was truly on their mind. Finally, Harry broke the connection and reached to scratch at his left eyebrow, he rubbed his hand then across his face and looked back up. He said nothing.

"So I postulate you would like me to schedule you regular appointments with my employee Sir Lev?" Still all business, Draco stood from the corner of his desk to shield himself behind it and to distance himself from Harry. The later simply nodded and started for the door to leave.

"That sounds good Dragon, once of week should be good for now." He too sounded all too fake, as if he, like Draco, was trying to distance himself from the other. Business owner and client. All they were, and needed to be.

Draco nodded and made a useless note on some parchment. He kept his eyes glued down as he heard the heavy door open. He held his breath for it to close again. Wishing for the dark haired, green eyed boy, to stay and leave at the same time. The silence that drew on seemed to last a life time, Harry still standing by the open door, Draco looking down at his mindless notes, neither daring to speak, yet wanting the other to so badly the desperation became practically tangible. At last, however, the door closed without another word and Draco was once again alone in his office.


Later that night, as Draco rested once more in his own bed, still red and gold blanket cocooning him in warmth, he couldn't help but notice his pillow smelled of spice, apples, and all too Harry.

He choked back a regretful sob, coming to terms with the consequences of his poor decision making once more. This time, however, the scar seemed much deeper than a permanent mark on his forearm.

Draco enjoyed the smell of spice and apples.