Pocketful of Posies

The air rippled with the thunder of bass that echoed out into the alleyway where a queue had formed that snaked out to the sidewalk beyond. The clubgoers waiting at the curb looked on with curiosity at the Rolls Royce that pulled up to the curb. The driver opened the door and a tall light-skinned black girl with wavy hair stepped out. She was followed by two more women—a redhead and another girl with long bushy hair—and three young men—a tall redhead, whom some speculated might have been related to his ginger counterpart, a guy with black hair that seemed to have something of a mind of its own and a lean pale man with hair so blond that it was practically white.

It was the blond and the black girl who were the most striking pair of the group. While the first two couples were dressed as if they stepped off of a runway in Milan, this couple had a style all of their own that said "fuck conventionality."

She wore a white ruffled blouse with a high neck and a fitted vest of silver brocade beneath a green velvet trench coat that hugged her curves and boasted ornate silver buttons down both lapels. Black leather pants and riding boots completed her ensemble. Her companion wore a similar look. He wore a silver cravat with a white silk shirt and green waistcoat. His silver-gray velvet trench was identical to hers in shape and cut, but boasted dragons embroidered along his back. Several of the females in the line ogled his lean legs and tight ass in his leather pants and motorcycle boots as he strode past, his coattails lifting slightly in his wake. They nudged one another and pointed at his flowing blond hair, their companions throwing him looks of derision.

"What does he think he is?" one man muttered under his breath.

"Steampunk," said the girl with him.

"What?" he looked at her curiously.

"Haven't you ever read The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?" she asked impatiently. "I wonder if they're models. He's awfully dishy!"

The guard drew back the velvet rope and admitted the three couples to the club's interior.

"Welcome to Club Nightshade. Take the stairs up to the VIP level," he said.

Épiphanie and Draco followed Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny up a spiral staircase to a glass-enclosed room that overlooked the large dancefloor of the club. Neville and Hannah were seated with Dean Thomas in a large banquette that wrapped the wall at the far end of the room. Ice buckets with bottles of champagne were placed on the low table in front of them.

"Well, no one ever accused you guys of standing out in a crowd!" Dean exclaimed, rising from his seat and clasping Draco's hand. He gave Épiphanie a light peck on the cheek.

"You look amazing!" said Hannah. Épiphanie didn't fail to notice the silver band around Hannah's neck and her fingers floated up to her own as Neville helped her out of her coat, one hand surreptitiously trailing down her spine.

"A corset!" he said in a voice just low enough for her to hear over the music without their friends taking notice. "Lovely!"

"Thank you, sir." She smiled and slid into Draco's lap, accepting the glass of champagne he offered her.

"Dean, this place is incredible!" Hermione exclaimed. "And there's no magic?"

"It's well hidden. All the staff are either witches and wizards or muggles who have mages in their families. Makes it easier to hide from the muggle patrons, and we don't have to explain to anyone why they can't work on 'wizards only' nights. We've applied to the Ministry for a portal to Diagon Alley. The back side of the club, where we have the outdoor bar, backs up to the south side right next to Ollivander's."

"That's brilliant! Good luck!" Harry exclaimed.

"It would drive up wizarding traffic from those who aren't comfortable moving about muggle London. Knowing your marketplace and exploiting it is always a good business decision," said Draco.

"Okay, not that this isn't absolutely stimulating conversation, but I want to dance!" Ginny declared. She pulled Harry to his feet and pushed open a door that led out to a balcony and another spiral staircase which went directly to the dance floor. The others followed and soon they were all caught up in the pulsing mass of bodies moving to the music.

Sweaty and breathless, Draco and Épiphanie left the dance floor in search of refreshment. Draco went to the bar for drinks while Épiphanie took a quick trip to the Ladies'. She stumbled when she emerged, nearly bowling Neville over as he entered the dimly lit corridor with its walls papered in advertisements and concert bills. He took her elbow to keep her from falling into a large sculpture.

"Sorry about that, Neville!" she exclaimed.

"It's no problem." He smiled, backing her up against the wall. "You're a fantastic dancer," he said.

"Thank you." Épiphanie lowered her eyes. She placed her hands on the wall, unsure of how to react to Neville's closeness.

"The mural behind the bar is quite impressive. The enchantress and the messenger of her immortal beloved." He fingered her collar.

"Dean certainly has an eye," she said.

"Indeed."

"Neville, I was wondering—"

"What the hell?"

They looked up to see a shocked and red-faced Ron emerging from the Men's lounge. Épiphanie's shoulder's sagged and she tried to step away, but Neville had his arm on the wall with no intention of moving it, and the sculpture blocked her from the other side.

"Neville, what are you playing at? Épiphanie!"

"Ron, it's not—" she started, pushing Neville. He didn't budge. Ron strode up to them, his wand hand reaching into his pocket.

"What the fuck?" he demanded.

"Ron, there are muggles here!" Épiphanie declared.

"So, what? Do you think Malfoy would care about that if he saw the two of you like this?"

A wand appeared out of nowhere at Ron's throat and Draco was behind him grabbing his wand hand.

"Draco is standing right here, and does not want to cause a scene in his mates' club, as I am sure you would agree, Auror Weasley!" Draco spoke close to his ear. "Let's everyone put our wands away before Dean and Seamus have security throw us out. I assure you, everything is fine, Ronald. Why don't you go and buy a round for everyone?" Draco removed his wand and pressed a wad of bills into Ron's hand, clapping him on the shoulder.

Draco stepped back and Ron eyed the trio with suspicion. Épiphanie looked nervous. Neville wore an expression of benign amusement and Draco's face wore the same mask of sinister cautiousness that he remembered seeing on Lucius' countenance on more than one occasion.

"Dragonfly." Draco held out his hand to Épiphanie as Seamus switched the music to a heavy reggae dancehall beat. Neville dropped his hand and she stepped away from him. As they turned away, Neville grabbed Draco by the wrist. He pulled him back and spoke low in his ear. Draco looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded, before pulling Épiphanie with him onto the dance floor.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked when Ron returned to the VIP area and slumped into the booth beside her.

"You won't believe what—" He stopped short when he realized that Hannah was sitting nearby. "I'll tell you later," he muttered.

Neville returned to the room and drew Hannah into his lap, stroking her hair. Hermione looked from Neville to Ron, who scowled at him as he drank his beer. Draco pulled Épiphanie into his lap, as they took a seat next to Neville a few minutes later. He played with her collar, nuzzling her neck as he stroked her hair. Hermione watched the two couples with interest. She shot a glance at Ginny, who raised a questioning brow.

"Do you see that?" Ginny nudged Harry.

"What?" He turned away from the conversation he was having with Dean and looked over at the two couples on the other end of the banquette. He chuckled. "I wonder if they even know that they're doing it."

"Looks like Neville's got another one," Seamus said as he bounced into the room.

"What?"

"Nothing," said Dean, drawing Seamus into his lap. He gave him a peck on the cheek and began whispering urgently in his ear. Seamus nodded.

"So, gang! How d'ya like the place?"

"It's brilliant, mate!" said Harry.

"We've already been able to pay back the initial investment. Me Mam was over the moon! She was convinced I'd be destitute an' beggin' on the streets o' Dublin wearing spandex hot pants!" he laughed.

"What are hot pants?" asked Neville.

"What's spandex?" asked Ron.

"Nothing that we ever want to see Seamus wearing!" Épiphanie snorted.

"I can think of a few things I'd rather not see my mates getting up to," Ron muttered, still glaring at Neville.

Ginny looked from her brother to Neville, who seemed unperturbed as he spoke close to Draco's ear.

Ron was first out of the limousine when it arrived outside of 12 Grimmauld Place. He stalked into the house and nearly roused Mrs. Black, had Hermione not caught the door before it slammed against the wall. She jogged to catch up with him in the lounge where he was already pouring a glass of firewhiskey.

"Ronald! If you get buggered tonight, you're sleeping alone!" she announced. "What happened?"

"What's going on?" Harry asked as he entered the room, removing his jacket. Ginny stepped in a moment later.

"Neville! Bloody, fucking Neville!" Ron fumed.

"What about Neville, mate?"

"I was coming out of the loo and found him pressed up against Épiphanie in the hallway!"

"Neville?" Hermione's face was a mask of disbelief. "No way!"

"Draco would have slaughtered him!" Harry laughed.

"But he didn't!" Ron exclaimed, pouring another drink. Hermione took the glass away from him.

"You mean he was there?" Ginny was aghast.

"He walked up at some point as I was confronting them. Put his wand to my fucking throat and told me to back off!"

"What?"

"Said we were making a scene and said everything was fine! Actually gave me money and suggested I buy a round! Since when are he and Neville best mates?"

"Well, what did Épiphanie have to say while all this was going on?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, she looked like she wanted to apparate right out of there, but Neville had her pinned against the wall. Didn't move until Draco reached out for her. Neville stood there grinning like a bleedin' kneazle the whole time!"

"He didn't say anything?" Harry knitted his brow.

"Well, just as Draco and Épiphanie started to walk away, he grabbed Draco by the wrist and said something to him, but they were very close and I couldn't hear what it was. I think he wanted something, because Draco looked like he was thinking about it, then he nodded before they went out to the dance floor."

"Ron, are you absolutely certain of what you saw? Maybe Neville was just talking to her about—" Ginny began.

"No, Ginny. He was entirely too close to her. Had his hand practically in her blouse!" Ron insisted.

"Something odd is definitely up. They were both awfully demonstrative, holding them in their laps, stroking their hair the same way." Hermione was thoughtful.

"Aw, come on guys. I think you're making too much of this. It's likely just a series of coincidences. Didn't you see Dean and Seamus do practically the same thing?" Harry interjected. "Some couples are just more intimate than others. I think we all have much more important things to concentrate on these days than how our friends and their partners get on. The way that Draco treated Neville in school, I personally think it's great that they get along now. Épiphanie's a big girl and a powerful enough witch to take care of herself. Let's just stay out of it."

Draco and Épiphanie entered the grand foyer at Antares Hall just as Neville, Hannah, Dean and Seamus apparated into the water garden between the kitchen and natatorium. Diggy led them up to the reception room where Draco whispered something to the elf. It disappeared and returned momentarily with a small wooden box. Draco took it and placed it on a side table beside the sofa.

"Doesn't The Minister of Magic live in this street?" Neville asked, leveling a measured gaze at Épiphanie. He took a seat on one end of the art deco sofa that faced the fireplace, one arm draped across the back, and his legs crossed. Hannah settled at his feet, resting her head against his thigh.

"On the opposite crescent," she replied. "But keep that on the low, y'all. He doesn't know Draco has a house here, and I'd like to keep it that way." She joined Draco, who also sat on the sofa, and he pulled her feet into his lap.

Dean sat in a deep club chair beside the fireplace and Seamus crawled into his lap, straddling him. Dean stroked his thighs.

"So what was Weasley on about?" Seamus asked. He rocked his hips against Dean's, sliding his hands under his shirt.

"Neville?" Draco looked at him.

"Ron reckoned that the physical proximity of our bodies as we talked was far too intimate." Neville stroked a hand over Hannah's hair.

"Does he know anything about us?" Dean asked. His eyes were closed and he slouched in his chair with his head back. One hand rested on Seamus' ass.

"No. Neither do the others."

"They have their suspicions though. Hermione and Ginny confronted me about it that day we first got fitted for our dress robes. You know, at Tethrippon?" Épiphanie said as Draco removed her boots. She wriggled her feet around, pointing and flexing her toes. Draco chuckled, capturing her feet once again.

"Ah, yes! You never had an opportunity to enjoy your salmon." He kissed her ankles.

"You didn't!" Seamus exclaimed. He stopped massaging Dean's chest, and stared excitedly at her. Dean snapped his fingers.

"Oi, focus! Nobody told you to stop." He narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. Seamus turned his attention back to Dean, grinding against him as he moved his hands over his torso.

"A bit of a surreptitious tease is certainly fortuitous when your sub is a legilimens." Draco winked.

"So how long have you and Seamus been together, Dean? With all that was going on, I hadn't realized until school was nearly out that you two were a couple," asked Épiphanie.

"Well, we didn't really get together until after the war, what with me dropping out of school and being on the run and all." He ran his fingers through Seamus' hair. Épiphanie thought she felt Draco stiffen slightly at Dean's mention of the war. She wondered how Draco and Dean were connected in that regard, but didn't ponder it for very long as a movement caught her eye. Neville's fingertips were idly playing in Draco's hair.

"…and before that, there was the whole affair with a certain ginger on the Gryffindor Quidditch team who shall remain nameless," Seamus added, leaning down to kiss him. Dean tightened his hold on Seamus hair and pulled his head back sharply.

"Careful, my sweet," he warned. Seamus growled in response. Dean released him. "You're incorrigible, you know." Seamus pressed his lips to Dean's.

"Have you ever been with a woman, Épiphanie?" Hannah asked.

"I—uh haven't been with anyone except Draco," she replied sheepishly.

"Aww, that's so sweet! Malfoy popped the Minister's Daughter! Some guys have all the luck!" Dean teased.

"Sod off, Thomas. You're just jealous."

"Of whom? You…or her?" Neville teased. Épiphanie looked at him curiously.

"Maybe both," Dean replied with a shrug and a wink. They laughed.

"So, how did—how did you all get into this?" Épiphanie asked.

"Neville," everyone replied.

"Not me," said Dean. "But he did help me with Seamus' first time."

"What about you, Épiphanie?" asked Seamus. He settled into Dean's lap with his head on his shoulder. "What was your posy?"

"Honeysuckle and Lily of the Valley. What about you?"

"Acacia and Black Poplar," Seamus blushed. "Hannah?"

"Cherry Blossom, Lady Slipper, and white wallflower."

"Aren't you going to ask Draco what was in his nosegay?" Neville asked. He moved his hand from the back of the sofa and his fingers sought out and began to lightly draw circles on the back of Draco's hand, which was resting between them.

"Wait—what?" Épiphanie sat up, looking from him to Draco. "I thought that—why would Neville ask you to submit to him?"

"First, tell her what your flowers were," said Neville.

"White poppy, scarlet pimpernel, tuberose, and harebell." Draco's voice was soft and reflective. "Bound with grass."

"Consolation, change, some dangerous pleasures…submission—all of the things that he was in need of that day, when he got sick on me outside of the potions dungeon." Neville took Draco's hand, and the Slytherin moved closer to the Gryffindor. Épiphanie looked on curiously.

Neville touched Hannah's shoulder and she got up, moving to the sofa, where she sat down on the other end and took Épiphanie into her arms. Épiphanie looked at Draco, who only kissed her fingers and gently pushed her in Hannah's direction. She settled self-consciously against the other witch.

"I wasn't entirely certain that Draco could be a Dominant. He was addicted, broken and mourning, in need of relief." Neville lifted Draco's fingers to his lips and Draco rested his head on Neville's shoulder. "Everybody knows Harry's story. We all watched him fight, and we all saw his seemingly lifeless body on the ground the day of the battle before Nagini was killed, making way for Voldemort's eventual demise. Nobody really knows Draco's story—even the ones who wound up at Malfoy Manor." He looked pointedly at Dean, who bit his lip, his eyes vacant. Seamus stroked his cheek gently, and he brushed his lips over the Irishman's before letting out a sigh and turning his attention back to Neville.

"The Draco Malfoy that you know, Épiphanie, is not the Draco that we grew up with. He was selfish, rude, manipulative and a right bully. He had been brought up in the darkest pureblood ways—always maintain an air of superiority, win at all costs, and one never gives in to the heart. Intimate pleasure is for the weak; the powerful do not serve, they are served. But he had, in fact, been forced to submit—an unwilling servant to the cruelest sadist. We were unaware that remorse, regret and doubt were dogging him while he was tormenting the rest of us."

Épiphanie stared transfixed as Neville stroked the top of the Slytherin's head gently. Draco's eyes were closed and he seemed not to care that he was being carefully watched by the others in the room. She remembered that heartbreaking time when they had shut one another out.

"You're lying, Draco…"

"…So what? Now you're in my dreams? Do I not have any privacy?"

"Of course you do. But hell, you called out my name! If you don't want me in your head, don't invite me!"

…Épiphanie elbowed Draco in the chest and he grabbed her arm, spinning her around and slapping her across the face as he snatched the flask from her hand.

She let out a startled gasp, her hand flying to her stinging cheek. Draco dropped the flask, spilling the contents.

"Épiphanie, Merlin! I'm sorry! I'm—" he took a step toward her, and was suddenly hurled backwards by the force of her knockback jinx, toppling over the chair. "Dragonfly—" he stopped when he saw the malevolent glare on her face.

"Get out, before I do something I'll regret!" she hissed…"

…"Don't you love me anymore, Épiphanie?..."

She watched him tense as Neville spoke, and saw the way that Neville responded. It was eerily reminiscent of the connection that she, herself, shared with him.

Draco closed his eyes and leaned into Neville's embrace. He didn't care that Épiphanie was watching. Neville was the only other person in his life who let him live his truth and made it beautiful. He had pushed him through the ugly and let him have a relief he hadn't known he was in need of. Épiphanie had kissed away the pain, but Neville opened the wound and let him force out the emotional obscurus threatening to overtake him. He remembered that awful day that he'd stumbled drunkenly into the Potions classroom after fighting with Épiphanie the night before, then chasing his high from the Draught of Peace with Neville's high-grade hashish.

He felt as if he was going to be sick and only wanted to go to bed. The heavy scent of the Amortentia that had pervaded the classroom for the entire period did nothing to help his attempts to straighten out his muddled thinking. He was sure that his essay would make no sense to the professor. The smell of vanilla and cocoa mingled with fine tobacco filled his brain, even now.

"What did you do, Draco?" Ron demanded.

"Sod off, Weasley!" Draco slurred. He attempted to push past the two Gryffindors, but his footing was unsteady and Ron caught him, pushing him hard against the wall, his wand at the Slytherin's throat.

"Right now, I'm certain that Épiphanie is spilling her guts to the girls. Three pissed off witches with a particular skill for hexes are not how I want the rest of my day to go!"

"Ron!" Harry placed a hand on his friend's wand hand. "Look, Draco. You don't look well, and Épiphanie seems to be heartbroken. Whatever is going on, if she matters to you in the way you spoke of her at The Manor, you need to fix it."

"I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, if Hermione takes this out on me—so help you!" Ron pointed a finger in Draco's face. "Git!" They left him and Draco turned to stagger towards the Slytherin dungeon once again when he was grabbed by Neville.

"Oh, no you don't! I told you not to smoke it with any calming potions!"

"I—but it was just a little—" Draco heaved and lost the contents of his stomach. Neville leapt back just in time to avoid getting slimed. Draco wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe.

"Merlin's saggy underpants! Let's go!" Neville grabbed Draco by the collar and dragged him up the stairs.

Draco stumbled along with Neville until they reached the seventh floor corridor. After three passes in front of the dancing trolls, Neville shoved him roughly into the room of requirement.

"Expelliarmus!" Neville caught Draco's wand.

"Oi! What are you playing at?" Draco demanded.

"You won't need it." Neville shoved Draco's wand into his robes and relieved the Slytherin of his satchel, casting a cleaning charm on it to remove the remnants of his sickness from it.

Draco's eyes fluttered closed, and he swayed, barely bothering to stay awake as Neville dragged him across the room. He wished he could just lie down somewhere—anywhere away from all these angry Gryffindors. Suddenly, he was enveloped by a frigid sensation, clawing his way from underwater. He inhaled sharply as he broke the surface of the ice bath and attempted to climb out of the large tub.

"Locomotor Mortis!" Neville growled. Draco's legs were unceremoniously locked together and the Gryffindor shoved him down into the icy water once more. "Look at that! Getting tortured by you and your lot those years ago, turned out to be useful after all!"

"Oh! FUCK! What the hell, Longbottom!" Draco spluttered as he came up again, shivering from the cold. He wiped his face and thrashed about unable to free himself from the leg-locker curse.

Neville grabbed his collar and pulled him up until their faces were inches apart. He placed the tip of his wand under Draco's chin.

"Now, you listen to me, Malfoy! I am not going into the lake because you were too stupid to be responsible! Épiphanie is my friend, and because of you, she's lost respect for me!" Neville released him from the curse and threw a large towel and robe at him. "Get dressed!"

A fireplace appeared along with a couple of chairs. Neville went to sit in one and Draco scrambled out of the frigid tub of water and dried himself, wrapping up in the warm dressing gown. He shuffled over to the empty chair, pushing it as close to the fire as possible and sank into it. Neville glowered at him.

"You're a right arsehole, do you know that, Malfoy? You get off on bullying others, and talking shit, but when it gets hot, you run!"

"Wait a minute—" Who was this person? It couldn't be the same clumsy, forgetful Longbottom who fell from his broom first year.

Neville raised his wand, and Draco backed down. This definitely wasn't the same Neville of their childhood. This was the Neville Longbottom who stood up to The Dark Lord and slayed Nagini with the Sword of Gryffindor. Draco stared at him in awe.

"Honestly, I was stunned to discover that you managed to drive off the dementors after Lucius waylaid Épiphanie. You stood up to your own father. I never would have guessed it. So, how come you can't overcome your demons? You're not worthy of her."

"I can't live without her, Longbottom! Épiphanie is my beginning and my end!" Draco exclaimed.

"Really?" Neville stared at him in disbelief. "Because if Hannah loved me even an ounce as much as that witch loves you, I would never break her heart like you've broken Épiphanie's. But of course, you Slytherins always think of yourselves first—I still can't understand why the Sorting Hat placed her there." Neville leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His voice was much calmer when he spoke again. "I believe you sincerely want to change, Draco. You're not the Malfoy I used to know, and I feel somewhat responsible for this situation you're in now, so I'm going to help you—only if you're willing to do the work."

"I can't lose her, Longbottom! I can't!" Draco dropped his head.

"This isn't about Épiphanie. It's about you, Draco. What I propose will hardly be easy. You will have to do something you've never done before. I won't do it unless you want it."

A small bouquet appeared, hovering in the space between them. Draco looked at the posy of white poppy, scarlet pimpernel, tuberose and harebell, tied together with grass.

"These blossoms represent consolation, change, a little dangerous pleasure, and most of all—submission. That's what you need, Draco. I can give that to you. You have to trust me. Do not accept this offering, unless you are willing to do exactly as I say without question."

Draco looked from the nosegay to the blond sitting across from him. Here was another Gryffindor whom he had tormented for years willing to help him. What did they see in Draco that he could not? They had shown him forgiveness, and grace. Is this what true love was? Draco wanted that above anything else. He wanted to live beyond the guilt and the pain. He clenched his fists, fingers stiff with the lingering cold. Neville sat patiently in his chair, idly turning his wand in his fingers. Finally, Draco summoned the courage to reach out a shivering hand and take the flowers.

"Good. I'm happy that you chose to let me help you, Draco."

"Can I have my wand back now?"

"No." Neville stood and slowly moved behind Draco. "First, you need to understand that you are safe here. You can trust me. I will never reveal what happens in this room without your consent. I will do nothing without your consent. Just say 'yes' if that is okay. If you are uncomfortable, or wish to stop, just say so." He leaned close to Draco's ear. "You're tense, Draco. Let me help ease your anxiety. I'm going to rub your shoulders."

Draco exhaled slowly and waited. After a few seconds passed, he realized that Neville was waiting for him to respond.

"Okay. Yes."

Neville placed his hands on Draco's shoulders and began to massage them. Draco relaxed into the firm touch kneading his muscles. The fire seemed warmer now, and his shivering ceased. He closed his eyes as the tension began to fade away.

"You don't have to be aloof and cold all the time, Draco." Neville's voice was soft and soothing in his ear as he worked his way down Draco's back. "Being vulnerable isn't a bad thing. There are people willing to be there when you feel weak, when you are afraid, when you are alone."

Draco let out a shuddering sigh. Neville stroked the top of Draco's head, running his fingers through the long, pale hair.

"Stand up, Draco."

Draco stood, his shoulders slumped, eyes watching the flickering flames dancing in the fireplace. Neville stepped in front of him.

"Look at me, Draco." He waited. Slowly the Slytherin raised his head and met the taller man's piercing eyes. "I'm about to do some things that you have never experienced before. I will not act without your consent, but I promise that you can trust me. You don't have to be afraid."

"Okay." Draco shrugged. Neville raised a brow. "Yes."

"I would like to touch you."

"What? Why?"

"Draco. Trust me."

"Okay—I mean…yes." Draco bit his lip.

Neville placed his hands on Draco's arms and looked into his eyes.

"You are safe, Draco. I promise. No hurt, harm or danger will befall you here." With that, Neville drew him into an embrace, gently rubbing his back. Draco flinched instinctively, but the powerful embrace and the warm body of the other wizard, radiated protection. Draco wanted to stay there forever. He pressed himself closer to Neville and felt the arms of the other wizard tighten around him as he kneaded the back of his neck. Draco let out a long sigh.

Neville continued to touch Draco, even as he broke the embrace. He moved to stand behind him and slowly removed the dressing gown. The Gryffindor ran his hands lightly over the pale, sinewy skin of the Slytherin's back. He wrapped his arms around Draco, resting his chin on his shoulder, and traced over the long scars on his chest from the curse that had been inflicted upon him by another Gryffindor who had ultimately gifted him with mercy.

"Please!" Draco choked out. His lip quivered. He could feel the jumper, worn soft over time, and the neat creases that made up the pleats in Neville's trousers against his bare skin.

"I would like your submission now, Draco. I am going to cast a spell if you allow me to."

All Draco wanted was for Neville to hold him again. He would do anything for that embrace.

"Yes, please."

"Incarcere Continuisse!"

Draco found himself bound with his arms spread wide and his feet shackled to the floor. He gasped and pulled at his bonds.

"Shh. You are safe, Draco. There's only you and me here. Trust me." And the embrace returned, one hand calmly stroking his hair. He closed his eyes.

"I would like to cover your eyes now, so that you can concentrate."

"Y-yes." Draco breathed.

"Obscuro!"

All of the light was shut out as the blindfold tightly held his closed eyelids in place.

"Remember this safe spell, Draco. If you feel overwhelmed—Requiram Auxilium."

"Yes. Okay. Yes." Draco's pulse quickened and he leaned back towards the voice.

Neville raked his nails over Draco's back, faint pink trails in their wake. He dragged his fingertips over every surface of his skin. Draco's breath hitched and he stifled a moan.

"You need release, Draco. Let me give it to you. Purge your sorrows, grief, and dissatisfaction."

Draco exhaled slowly. Neville withdrew his hand and Draco whimpered. He turned his head, frantic to hear some movement when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Was that the tip of a wand?

"Draco."

"Yes!" he panted.

"Concentrate."

Tap. It touched his back. Tap. It touched his backside. Tap. He felt the touch on back of his thigh. Tap. It touched his forehead. Neville held the wand there a moment before he slowly and deliberately traced it down the side of Draco's face, along the curve of his jaw, down the side of his neck. He continued, patiently and deliberately over his collarbone and down the center of his chest. He crossed each pectoral muscle and drew a lazy circle around each blush nipple.

Draco began to breathe more heavily and that familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach began to bloom as the blood rushed to his groin. He pulled at his bonds. The tip of the wand moved ever slowly over his taut abdomen, looping around his navel again and again. Draco was panting now. Lower, and across from one hip to the other. Lower and lower, until the light pressure ceased. Draco bucked his hips forward. His erection bobbed.

"Please!" he whispered.

"Patience, Draco. True ecstasy lies within the senses. Crucio Vexo!"

Draco yelped when he felt a light stinging sensation to his chest. It dissipated nearly as quickly as it came. Suddenly, he felt another against his stomach.

"Ah!" He bit his lip hard.

Three stings struck each thigh in rapid succession.

"Shit! Mmmm!" He moaned and panted as he twisted fruitlessly whilst his torso was peppered with the hexes over and over.

"You're taking it well, Draco. I think we should continue."

"Y-yes! Please!" Draco stammered.

Neville moved behind him, dragging the tip of his wand over Draco's excited skin as he did so. Draco turned his head as if he could see what the other wizard was up to.

"Instigosempra!" Neville pointed his wand. Draco inhaled sharply and hissed.

"Fuck!" Draco spat, as his loins began to quiver. His legs quaked and he tightened his muscles writhing in his bonds. "Ohhh, fuck! Shit! Fuck!"

"Ipsam carnem!"

Draco felt a lash across his back. He cried out.

"Fucking Merlin! Ohhhh!" he moaned.

"Yes, Draco. There is no pleasure without pain."

Another lash burned his back.

"I am going to mark you, Draco. Let each stripe release that pain that you are holding in."

Draco made a strangled noise. The quiver in his groin was agonizing and gratifying at the same time.

"Draco."

"Mmmm…yes!"

"Count for me, love." Neville flicked his wand. Another lash seared his flesh. This one landed across his backside."

"Sssssss!" Draco hissed.

"Finite."

The vibrations in Draco's groin ceased. His legs trembled as he relaxed, breathing heavily.

"Draco."

"Wha-wha—"

"There was something you were to do."

"I-I—"

"Focus, Draco. Trust me."

"I—yes."

"Tell me what I wanted you to do." Neville's voice was patient, like a parent with a child. It was calm and gentle even.

"C-count."

"Good."

"One."

"Excellent, Draco."

The next lash burned the backs of his thighs.

"Mmmm! Two!" Another. "Three…Ah! Four!"

The next stung his ass again.

"Five!"

"Instigosempra!" The quiver began anew, followed by three quick burning lashes to his back.

"Fucking Salazar! Shit! Shit!"

"Draco."

"Six, seven. Mmmm…eight!"

"Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim. Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you, Draco. Release it."

"I can't!"

"You can. Ipsam Carnem!" Neville flicked his wand again, and again, and again.

The lashes kept coming. Draco moaned loudly and tears streamed from his eyes.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed. "He had my family! I had no choice! I didn't want anyone to die! I didn't want them tortured! I didn't want the mark! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh! I couldn't stop it! I couldn't—I—please! Please! I—I—"

"Cling to those shadows no more, Draco. That life is done. This is the penance you sought and the consolation that you required. The pain is over, Draco. Accept the pleasure."

"Aaahhhh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Shit!" Draco shuddered, pulling violently against his bonds, his skin bruising red beneath them as he reached climax.

"Finite Incantatem!" Neville grabbed Draco around the waist, supporting the exhausted and sated wizard. "Exsolvo!" The bonds were released and Neville carefully settled him into cushions that appeared on the floor, cradling Draco's head in his lap as he cleaned him and applied Dittany to his skin, made raw from resisting his restraints.

He wrapped him in the dressing gown and they sat like that quietly for more than an hour, the Gryffindor gently smoothing a hand over the Slytherin's pale hair.

"Neville?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry…I was wrong to torment you like that."

"Things change, Draco. People change. Forgiveness isn't for you. It's for me. For the past to die, I have long-ago buried that pain." He gave the long-haired blond a smile. They fell silent once more. Draco finally sat up, drawing his knees to his chest.

"I'm not gay."

"I know. Nor am I," Neville replied with a shrug.

"I—erm—"

"You don't have to worry, Draco. What happened here, stays here. I will never reveal it without your consent."

"No, it's not that—I mean—I appreciate that, but—actually, erm..." Draco's cheeks reddened. "I'd like to learn to do what you did. To do—I mean, to be—"

"To be a dominant?"

"Is that—is that something I can learn?"

Neville's smile broadened.

"Why didn't Draco's posy have cherry blossoms in it, Neville?" Épiphanie asked.

"Because I wasn't asking him to accept my protection, although by virtue of the fact that I mentored his journey to becoming a dominant, I have ultimately given it.

Draco isn't a submissive. However, I laid him bare because he needed it. I discovered quickly what his true nature was, but his upbringing and exposure to Voldemort had skewed his understanding of power and dominance. A good dominant must be inclined not only to take control, but to serve—and serve willingly. Anything else could be dangerous, and in fact potentially deadly."

Draco summoned the box that Diggy had given him when the group first arrived. "I have something for you." He knelt in front of Neville and held out the carved wooden box. Neville took it and opened the lid. His lips parted in surprise when he saw the object nestled in the velvet cushion.

"Is it—is it the same one?" he murmured, removing it from the box and holding up to the light. Seamus and Dean let out simultaneous gasps.

"What is that?" Épiphanie asked.

"It's a remembrall," said Dean.

"It's my remembrall!" Neville whispered.

"Madame Hooch, do you remember the flying class my first year when Longbottom fell off his broom? I had a laugh at his expense and stole one of his belongings. He was terribly humiliated. Épiphanie was nervous about having her first lesson in front of so many people. I remembered how I treated Neville that day and I only wanted Épiphanie to relax and trust her broom."

"Wait! When we were in Professor McGonagall's office that day…Is that the—"

"It is. I had no idea that I still had it, until I emptied my old school trunk a few weeks ago. I hope that you will accept it as my way of thanking you for your forgiveness and friendship."

Neville nodded, not trusting his voice.