Hi everyone! Quick authors note to say thanks again to those who reviewed the last chapter; Ern Estine 13624, Magic Freak and Liz. This is the penultimate chapter.. my next update will be the last, containing both chapter 10 and an epilogue! I'll have it posted by the end of the week.

Polite warning that this chapter does, once again, show why this story is rated M. ;)

Enjoy!


Chapter Nine

New Year, New Beginnings

The next few days passed in much the same way. Malfoy kept his distance from Harry and Harry didn't push it. He still didn't know what he was going to do or say, only that he was certain he had to act before the rest of Hogwarts returned. New Year's Eve chimed, crispy and cold and far too early for Harry's liking. New Year's Eve meant, of course, that there were only three more days until students returned to the castle on the third of January. It meant Harry had to gather up the frayed edges of his sanity and act now or he never would.

The day passed the same as any other, Harry attempting to study – in fact, it was more than an attempt, the escape it provided from his thoughts of Malfoy was welcoming and he'd managed to get through all of his Christmas essays in only three days – and Malfoy remaining out of sight. Harry had stopped watching him on the map, it only made his stomach twist uncomfortably with the knowledge that Malfoy was so close, yet a million miles away. As the evening came Harry left for the Great Hall alone and ate his fill, not surprised to find Malfoy absent. He was sure he must follow Harry around, waiting for Harry to leave before he entered to eat. Harry had considered waiting for the entire length of the feast to test his theory but after an hour he concluded he was being stupid and returned to the common room.

Malfoy was sitting in the armchair by the fire and as Harry entered the room he almost did a double take, wondering if he'd somehow slipped through a ripple in time and returned to the short period of the Christmas holidays before – But no, he hadn't, he reasoned as he drew closer, because Malfoy was sitting with a disturbingly petulant look on his face with a bottle of wine in his hands.

Apparently sensing Harry's presence the blonde didn't look up, but did speak to him for the first time since he'd told Harry to forget their encounter ever happened. "The bloody bint has charmed it closed, needs you here to uncork it." Harry was sure the confusion on his face would have been evident if Malfoy had looked up at him. Instead he searched for an answer himself and found a folded card on the table beside Malfoy. Picking it up, Harry read the neat script inside.

Mister Malfoy, Mister Potter,

This past year, and those before it, haven't been the kindest to anyone. They certainly haven't been kind to either of you. As you are both of age I feel no regret it offering you this gift with a warm wish of a better year to come. However, if you were to tell anyone I had sent this, I would naturally act as if it had never happened and issue you both with a month of detentions.

With warmest wishes for a happy new year and new beginnings.

The note was unsigned, but Harry recognised the neat lettering from the bottom of many of his Transfiguration essays. He smiled softly at McGonagall's words and, as if knowing that both of the intended recipients had read the note, it disintegrated in Harry's hands. As if by magic – well, obviously by magic – the bottle Malfoy was holding popped its cork.

"She's a clever witch." Harry said, hoping to break the silence with conversation. Malfoy did not reply however Harry was encouraged by the fact that he transfigured two goblets rather than one, proceeding to pour wine into both. "So are you. Well – you're not a witch, obviously - but clever." Harry complemented, bumbling like an idiot. Smooth, Potter, he cursed himself inwardly.

Once again Malfoy said nothing, simply draining the goblet before him and pouring himself another glass. Harry fought back a sigh and dropped onto the sofa, trying hard to push away the memories it brought back to him. He tried to be encouraged by the way Malfoy had not yet left but was painfully aware he had not spoken since the wine had magically opening; obviously, Harry had served his purpose for the evening.

Well, Harry wasn't about to let the opportunity to slide, even if it was just an opportunity to do nothing more than look at Malfoy as he stared blankly into the fire, now sipping his wine much more attentively. Harry knew that Malfoy hadn't changed completely and he knew that were never possible. He knew he would always be the same git he'd always been, with the same contempt for muggle-borns and blood traitors – coincidently, two of the most important people in Harry's life – and would likely, at times, have the same hate for Harry he'd always had. No doubt, however, Harry would hold onto some of that hate too. But there would also be something more. Something else that held them together, something that made them both feel alive. There was a darkness deep in Malfoy, a frightening magic that Harry couldn't help but cling to.

He needed to take this opportunity tonight, grab it tight with both hands, or he would never know. He watched Malfoy pour himself a third, or was it a fourth?, glass and summoned all his courage.

"Malfoy," Harry said, willing the blonde to turn and look at him. A slight jerk of his shoulders suggested he had heard Harry but he didn't turn his way. "Look at me. We need to talk." It wasn't a request, it was an instruction, and Harry was pleased with how controlled his voice sounded. Despite his words, there was no response. Having Malfoy looking away from him while he spilled out his feelings wasn't ideal – Harry craved the eye contact, craved those grey eyes on his so he could see, so he could have a window into the emotions that were only unguarded in those eyes. Knowing that he would not be afforded the privilege any time soon, Harry pressed on. "Look… What happened, that night, I wasn't drunk. I wanted you to know that. I wanted you to know, well, I think that I know you better than you want me to and I think you know me too. I think, you're different, you're still you but you've changed and you're –"

"I haven't changed, Potter." Malfoy's sneer was icy cold and Harry jumped in surprise, he hadn't been expecting a response at all, never mind mid-speech. "I've merely adapted. Despite what you and Weasley may think."

"Wha-" Harry began to ask, taking a moment to register what Malfoy had just said, confusion swimming over him. "How do you know I was talking to-" Harry stopped as Malfoy finally turned towards him, all pale skin, white hair and sharp, grey eyes.

His heart stopped.

He realised.

The witch or wizard has no control over his form… His Animagus form will be somewhat of a 'spirt animal', taking the form of which connects most with the witch or wizards personality, with their needs…

Usually, the first change will be mastered after a great emotional upheaval, although each consecutive change after that will become second nature to the witch or wizard who masters the art….

Despite this, the animal will display some traits, such as colouring, which are the same as its human form…

"You're – You're…. An animagus." Harry choked out as if he couldn't believe his own words, which he couldn't.

"Well done, Potter." Malfoy drawled coldly, his gaze as hard as stone "Top marks, although I wonder how you managed to defeat the Dark Lord with observation skills as dim as that. Honestly."

Malfoy's jibes didn't hurt him, he was too busy trying to connect his thoughts. "But – You… All this time, you were watching me?" He asked as visions of the owl he'd become so familiar with swept before his eyes. Waiting for him at Ron's bedroom window, those grey eyes staring at him… The last time he'd seen it, just days ago, in the Owlery. "You took my letter to George. You read it, you followed me." Harry said his voice no more than a shaky whisper. He was no longer asking questions, but stating facts.

"When? How? Why?" The questions started again, an inane jumble of everything Harry wanted to know. When had he become an Animagus? He had seen over the past few days that Malfoy was more gifted with Transfiguration than he'd noticed before, but what had led to the first change? Why an owl? Did even Malfoy know himself? And why had he been watching Harry for so long? The final question was the most pressing but it was the one that Harry allowed himself to have a go at answering. Everything he had thought, everything he had felt, was true. He had managed to convince himself, especially after his conversation with George, that Malfoy felt the same as he did, but he had always had a tiny seed of doubt biting at the back of his mind. Until now. Malfoy had watched him, turned into his owl form and flew to Harry to look at him. Surely that meant he felt the same as Harry, even if like Harry, he hadn't noticed those feelings existed until now.

Malfoy sat in resolute silence staring ahead, straight at Harry. In all honesty, Harry hadn't been expecting an answer to any of his questions so he was surprised when, in nothing more than a whisper, Malfoy gave him one.

"I didn't know myself, until I told McGonagall. I didn't tell the Ministry at first, I know its illegal to be an unregistered Animagus. I didn't want them to have anything else to throw at me, so I kept it a secret. Thankfully, they never asked me anything like that under Vertiserum. Obviously they thought that level of magic was beyond me." Malfoy paused and smirked softly, obviously taking a moment to bask in the glory of his magical poweress before the expression faded and he continued. "But I knew I had to do something, so I told McGonagall. I didn't even know that the animal you became said something about your personality until McGonagall taught me. She taught me to control it, to change when I wanted. She helped me see that…" Malfoy trailed off, pausing as he gazed away for a moment, then back at Harry with sad, empty eyes. "I became an owl so I could be free. I could fly away, I could escape. I always had to go back, but…"

Malfoy didn't need to say anymore, the meaning behind his words was clear. Harry imagination suddenly provided himself with vivid images of Malfoy in the Manor, helped along by his short visit during the war and what he had heard at Malfoy's testimony. He saw Malfoy alone in a dark room, shaking as Voldemort's voice echoed through the walls and Luna screamed as she was tortured. He saw how Malfoy couldn't take being so helpless and he saw how, without even realising he could, Malfoy had transformed for the first time into the pale, beautiful, grey eyed owl Harry had come to know so well. The images were so clear Harry was sure Malfoy must have set up a connection between them, letting Harry into his mind to show him, rather than tell him.

Harry swallowed thickly. Apparently, now was the time for confessions. There was something Harry needed to say, that he hadn't even realised he had. It had been in the back of his mind for some time, ever since a conversation with Hermione and Ron, months ago.

"When you saw Hermione, at your trial, it wasn't Hermione." Harry said his voice low. Malfoy looked clearly confused so Harry pressed forward with his explanation. "It was me. I had, well, it's like Polyjuice but George altered it to get past the Ministry defences… I needed, I needed to be there."

Malfoy was still staring, but the confusion was gone. It was replaced with a penetrating gaze that stared not at him, but inside him. Like his eyes were reaching right down into Harry's soul. The intensity of the gaze made him shiver and he couldn't help it – he lunged forward, pressing his lips to Malfoy's. The kiss was as heated and passionate as it had been before but this time it was laced with a different kind of need, an understanding. An understanding that they both knew each other, they both cared, the both… The feelings didn't have words, neither did they need them, only actions. Harry had been planning, hoping, dreaming for this moment since his conversation with George; the moment where he would break down Malfoy's barriers and be allowed inside, the moment where he could make Malfoy see that, yes; together they may be a little bit unhealthy, but maybe, they could make each other happy.

Their kisses continued, growing more heated by the second until Malfoy broke free, his lips instantly reattaching themselves to Harry's neck, slurping and sucking at the skin beneath. As he lifted his head once more, presumably to claim Harry's lips again, he swayed backwards, blinking as he attempted to right himself.

Then it hit Harry. Yes, he had been planning for this moment for days. The moment where he and Malfoy would connected as he desired; but he had never imagined it like this.

"Now you're drunk, Harry breathed, reaching out an arm to steady Malfoy. He had intended the words to be light, playful, a response to his words to Harry those few nights ago. Instead his tone suggested the opposite; his tone was dark, relaying his emotions. No matter how badly he wanted Malfoy, no matter how badly he wanted to feel the way he could – the way he knew they both could – he didn't want it to be like this. He wanted Malfoy to want him, truly want him, not induced by a haze of expensive wine.

Malfoy jerked back as if the contact burned. "Look at you, being bloody noble again." He sneered, his tone suddenly cold, dousing the heat of passion which had moments ago laced the room. "I don't need a saviour."

The blonde turned on his heel, all be it without his usual grace, his spin wobbling slightly proving that Harry was right to have stopped. As he turned he began to stalk away from Harry toward the stairs.

"Draco…" He called before catching himself. He was painfully aware he'd never called him by his first name before, not even in his thoughts. The sound of his name stopped Malfoy in his tracks, his frame freezing over as if struck by Pretificus Totalus.

"It's Malfoy, Potter." He spat, although he didn't look at Harry as he spoke and without time for Harry to respond, fled up the stone staircase to his room.

Harry stood, dazed by the events, for several moments, minutes, or maybe even hours. He was only aware of time as the clock chimed out, twelve long, loud strikes.

"Happy new year," Harry muttered to himself bitterly, sinking to his knees on the rug before the fireplace, losing himself and his thoughts in the flames dying embers. Maybe, he thought to himself, this simple image told him everything he would ever need to know about what any relationship between he and Malfoy would be. Like a fire they could burn, bright and beautiful, bringing each other to life like the wood fed the flames; but, they would burn too hot, too fast. Just as the flames had claimed the life of the wood, leaving nothing but charred remains, maybe they would claim the life from each other and instead of fixing themselves, would leave their shattered souls beyond repair.


Malfoy hadn't made it to his room. He hadn't even made it to the top floor. He'd only made it three stairs before he turned back and halted, safe in the shadows, watching Potter.

Or should he call him Harry? He shivered as he recalled the way his name – Draco – had sounded on Harry's lips. Hearing his name for the first time had been bittersweet; a symbol of their changing relationship yet marred by sadness. It was ruined by the fact that Harry had been calling him out for his cruel words, for his inability to have faced the emotional scene without getting drunk.

He had wanted to say he was sorry. He had wanted to say that, although drunk, he had meant it all. He had wanted to tell him not to forget their first night together as he had requested, but to saviour it. Most of all he had wanted to take back his name from Harry's lips and tell him he wanted to hear it under different circumstances; preferably, under circumstances where Draco was under Harry and his name was nothing more than a moan.

Instead he had said "It's Malfoy, Potter."

He had no idea how long he stood, simply watching. He was rapidly sobering up from both the lack of further wine and the weight of the conversation. Harry too must have been deep in thought as he jumped as the clock struck, its twelve chimes signalling the midnight hour.

"Happy new year"

Harry's bitter whisper echoed across the empty room, causing Malfoy's stomach to clench uncomfortably, tying in even deeper knots as the messy black head he was watching dropped as its owner sank to their knees. Draco felt as if his entire body was shaking and he knew; this was it. It was all or nothing. He would either surrender, will himself to Harry now and see if they could make it or he would run, run far away and never look back.

Without pausing for his mind to consider his actions he leapt across the room, needing to do anything to close the distance between them. He stopped just behind Harry's bent form and, somehow, just knew what he had to do.

"Harry…" He whispered, his voice surprising him. He sounded hoarse, his voice cracked as he spoke, betraying the feelings he battled inside. The head before him turned and two, impossibly wide green eyes met his grey ones. He offered nothing in return except silence and Draco couldn't blame him; he'd done enough damage already, it was time for him to take responsibility. He took in a deep breath, wishing he could find some Slytherin sense to rely upon to will him through the conversation. Alas, bravery and all round general emotional stupidity was left to Gryffindor's, so on this one, he would be alone.

"I was wrong."

With those three words, Draco hoped that Harry would recognise everything he was trying to say. He was wrong to have told Harry to forget their first night together. He was wrong to have ignored Harry for days. He was wrong to have denied his feelings. He was wrong about a lot of things. Most of all, he was wrong about not needing a saviour. He needed one in particular. He needed Harry.

He sank to his knees before Harry, their faces just inches apart, eye contact never breaking as Draco willed all the words he hadn't said to be spoken through his gaze. It was hard, being so emotionally open. Although his eyes were raw with their feelings he knew his jaw was set and steady in opposition but he gritted his teeth and continued to stare, the pain of bearing his soul like this much worse than any dark magic he had ever experienced.

The gaze he was given in return assured Draco that Harry understood, those green eyes soothing his grey ones, telling him simply; it's ok. Draco leaned in, his lips searching for Harry's yet meeting nothing but air as his companion leant back. Draco jerked back, puzzled. Surely he hadn't misread Harry's signal? Surely… Surely he hadn't bared everything he was to Harry, in a way he never had to anyone else, to be rejected? He noticed the slight flicker of Harry's gaze toward the wine bottle of the table and swallowed. From his position he could see Harry's glass was still half full; yet the bottle was almost empty.

"I took a potion," Draco lied, quickly and smoothly, glad to have his Slytherin cunning to fall back on. It took a beat before Harry seemed to accept Draco's words but he did and soon their lips were connected once more. The warm feeling of Harry's mouth against his filled Draco with a pleasure he could not describe, a yearning he could not put into words as memories of their previous night in the common room assaulted his mind. His hands wound into dark, messy locks of hair as his tongue fought ready and rough in a deep kiss. Using the position of his hands to keep Harry's head close whilst he broke their kiss, Draco whispered,

"I want you. I want you to save me. Take me." His breath ghosted over Harry's lips and he felt a shiver; he wasn't sure which boy had made it, had it been Harry, aroused by Draco's offering? Or had it been Draco himself, fearful of the emotional weight of the words that had escaped his lips? Either way the mood between them changed and as their lips connected again the kiss was slow, gentle and tender in a way that they had not kissed before. It was like fire on Draco's aching bones and he sighed into the kiss, his hands twisting and knotting in the mass of hair he gripped. He allowed himself to be pushed back under Harry's weight, falling back against the rug the knelt on, safe under the warm weight of Harry's body. They continued to kiss, tenderly and lovingly, pouring all the emotions they couldn't say – all of the emotions they didn't yet truly understand – into the exchange of their lips.

This time as they undressed each other their movements were slow. Each was savouring the moment, carefully peeling off each layer of clothing and treating the exposed skin beneath to kisses. Draco's head hit the floor and his eyes fluttered closed as Harry found the sweet spot below his earlobe again and travelled down. His kisses slowly traced each scar as if he was trying to remove the pain he had once caused. As Harry dipped lower his tongue flickered out dancing over Draco's hip bones. As Harry had already rid him of his trousers Draco was left in nothing more than his boxers and as the lips worshiping him reached the waistband they paused. Draco looked up in wonder, just in time to see the way Harry lift his head and move to the left. He was aware how loudly he gasped, his surprise audible as Harry left an unmistakably certain kiss in the centre of Draco's Dark Mark.

He knew his eyes were wide with surprise yet he couldn't alter his features, not even as Harry's blazing green eyes looked up to meet him. "You have changed." He said simply and Draco knew he was referring to their words that evening which now seemed like years ago. He hoped Harry wasn't waiting for a reply; touched by the gesture and by his words, he simply didn't know what to say. As if he knew, Harry broke the contact of their eyes and instead, reached for Draco's boxers, carefully removing them before standing up to remove his own.

The fire had long since burned out but the curtains had not been closed, bathing Harry's naked body in the soft shimmer of moonlight. Draco's throat went dry and his body twitched with desire as he took a moment to stare, unabashed, at the man standing above him. His shoulders were broad and, although not ripped with muscle, he was toned from long hours playing quidditch. His arms and torso were strong and – Draco swallowed as his gaze lowered – that wasn't where the strength ended. Harry was already hard, his cock standing to attention for Draco. Was it really that big, or was it the shadow of the moonlight? Or was it Draco's sudden realisation that, although not a virgin, he'd never bottomed before?

He was disrupted from his thoughts as he caught Harry's gaze, both of their cheeks flushing as they realised they'd been caught in the act, both taking the time to stare at each other's moonlight bathed bodies. Harry sank back to his knees and as he did so, Draco noticed he was quite clearly trembling. He was about to open his lips to ask if he was ok when he spoke, the concern clearly evident enough on Draco's face.

"I… - er… Well, I haven't, exactly… Done this before," Harry muttered, suddenly looking very embarrassed, his cheeks flaring with colour as he looked away. "I mean – not just with a bloke either, I mean… I haven't with anyone."

Draco froze. Harry Potter, a virgin. He, Draco Malfoy, was about to take Harry Potter's virginity. He was suddenly filled with an overwhelming need to soothe him, to calm his fears. He reached up a hand, lacing his fingers through Harry's and giving a brief squeeze.

"It's, well, new for me too." Draco admitted, his cheeks pinking slightly, although a far cry from the scarlet display of Harry's. "Well, I've had sex before, with men as well, but –" Draco broke off, suddenly cringing at the way Harry had set his jaw. Was he jealous? A tiny part of Draco flared with happiness at this thought, but the larger part was doused with worry – this wasn't the way he'd wanted this to go. "But I haven't, actually, let anyone fuck me." Harry's features seemed to soften, but another unwanted emotion still clouded in his eyes. "I want you to."

His last sentence seemed to work as Harry's lips instantly came back to his and their kisses resumed, still tender but with a building passion, tongues and lips becoming more forceful as their bodies rubbed together, their hot lengths of arousal rubbing, the feeling of skin on skin sending Draco dizzy with desire. He knew he would have to act soon if he wanted this.

"I know…" He started, not getting far before he was cut off by another of Harry's kisses. As delicious as they were Draco forced himself to pull back further this time, his grey eyes seeking out Harry's. "I know some charms. If you let me, it'll… Make it easier." Harry nodded and Draco reached out, fumbling for his wand. With a few words he felt a cold feeling between his cheeks, letting him know the lubrication charm had slicked his entrance. He dropped his wand and almost laughed as he took in the confusion on Harry's face, his eyes gawping down at his two, suddenly wet, fingers.

"You need to – er…" Draco didn't know how to explain, simply nodded between his legs, hoping Harry would get the message. Thankfully he did and he leant down, slowly but surely sliding a single finger toward Draco's entrance. He gasped at the sudden contact and shifted, rolling his hips to urge Harry to continue. His finger followed a few clumsy, inexpert strokes before finding a rhythm that made Draco bite his lip and then moan softly as Harry added a second finger. Draco rocked back his hips to meet Harry's fingers and their lips melted together once more. When Draco was truly relaxed he broke their lips, casting a long, deliberate lick of his tongue over Harry's bottom lip before nodding downward again, signalling to Harry that he was ready.

"Do you – er… Do you want to turn around?" He asked, clearly unsure. Within an instant, Draco shook his head. He knew he probably should, he knew that it would make the first time easier. But he yearned to have Harry's eyes with his as they crossed this line together. A soft smile flickered across Harry's lips as if he could read Draco's mind. He pulled himself up onto his knees, resting an elbow either side of Draco's shoulders, looking him straight in the eye, straight into his soul as he positioned himself and whispered,

"Ready?"

Draco nodded in response and Harry sank inside. He paused as the head of his cock slipped into Draco's entrance and Draco winced at the new feeling. Registering his expression concern flooded Harry's features, but Draco waved it away.

"Carry on, slowly…" He whispered, rocking his hips to urge Harry in further. It didn't take long for his partner to comply and soon he was filled completely, stretching wide as his body became used to the new feeling. For a few moments they lay together, Harry slowly drawing in and out of Draco, biting down on his lip in what Draco could only hope was pleasure.

"Faster," he urged after a moment and was rewarded by Harry's bucking hips smashing down against his. It wasn't perfect; it was inexpert and clumsy, Harry often lost his rhythm and struggled to maintain his pace. But it was the most amazing feeling Draco had ever experienced. As Harry plunged in and out of him he was very aware of his own cock throbbing between them. He reached down a hand to pleasure himself and Harry's eyes snapped open, widening as they took in the sight below, darkening with desire. The sight of Draco seemed to speed up Harry's efforts and Draco moaned loudly every time Harry hit the spot inside him which sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. After only a few more thrusts Harry's body seemed to tense above him and he shook, gasping out,

"Draco!"

That was it. That was how he wanted to hear his name. That was what he wanted, the word laced with pleasure rather than pain. The sound was Draco's own undoing and he came over his stomach, Harry's name escaping his lips in return.

Spent, they both lay side by side on the rug as their breathing returned to normal.

"I don't fancy sleeping on the sofa again," Harry whispered, breaking the silence.

"Stay with me," Draco offered, the words escaping him before he'd even realised he was making the offer. He tensed – yes, their exchange before had been emotional, confessions and feelings had been exchanged, but that had all been in the midst of a deeper desire, when words were spoken, glances were exchanged but all as a means to getting what they had both needed. Now, after they'd had their fill of each other, there was nothing left for Draco to blame his outburst on. Thankfully he was rewarded with a head lifting over his and a brief, sleepy smile before a long, soft kiss.

Draco smiled back against the lips that kissed him. Maybe it would be a happy new year after all.