Hello all, I've been beavering away trying to get this chapter written and to a good standard too, as requested as a fast update by Live, I hope it got to you on time, I sympathise, my term is also about to start and have I done any work? Nope, been writing fanfiction. Whoops. All your fault. You'll be pleased to know (well, hopefully,) that I have already started writing chapter 12, and I plan to have posted it before uni recommences.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: HP Not Mine. Sad Face. :-(

"Closer and Closer, the Pieces Edge Nearer…"

(Poetry of Chess)

skinnyrita

The fogged windows were flung open, nearly-white curtains ribboning in the cold breeze, trying to expel the mists enveloping the steamy room. Harry tucked the towel around his waist more securely and reached for his glasses, breathing on each lens slightly before giving them a quick wipe with a square of toilet roll to clear them. He stared at his reflection in the filmy mirror. He needed to get back on the pitch, or construct some sort of regime for himself; the little ridge of fat beginning to dissolve his trim stomach was growing daily under the inactivity of Grimmauld Place, and although he doubted a little flab would put Malfoy off looking at him, he had to maintain his own sense of self preservation. He could definitely pinch an inch in some places, and more. His chest hair had gone a bit scraggy in the shower too, that couldn't be attractive… maybe, he snorted to himself, maybe he should go into muggle London and get a 'back, sac and crack' wax. Substitute back wax for a chest one.

"Good morning."

Harry jumped, razor about to go to his chin. He hadn't heard the door unlock. Malfoy's long fingered hands laced around his torso and the glinting eyes caught his in the mirror. Harry smirked impishly, pleased to see him, though unexpectedly. "I was going to shave," he informed him, mock-scolding.

"Well don't let me distract you." Malfoy rubbed the fingers of one hand over the furred chest, smoothing it like a cat. Harry breathed steadily and raised the razor to his throat again, carefully, trying not to jolt in response to Malfoy's hands, and the playful eyes in the mirror. A few nipping kisses landed on his shoulder. He concentrated harder. A wandering finger slipping under the towel to touch a hipbone. The razor jarred.

"Ah-!" A small cut.

"Tut, careful." A touch of Malfoy's finger, the jolt of magic in and out, and the small laceration was gone. A simple caress and the touch of soft lips to the back of his neck. Harry shivered and applied the razor again. He felt very naked under his towel.

He finished shaving and set the razor carefully down on the side of the sink, splashing cold water on his face and reaching for the hand towel to pat off the errant droplets. Turned in Malfoy's arms. Malfoy was dressed and he was not. A hand caressed the newly smooth jaw line, the other travelling on his ribcage as he was kissed. He hesitated momentarily before threading his fingers lightly in the silky blond hair. Moaned despite himself, when Malfoy deepened the kiss, the hand on his jaw dropping to his collarbone, the other grasping him suddenly, a little more urgently. They parted for breath.

Harry took the opportunity to disengage his hands and aright his glasses, which as usual had got skewed. Malfoy was studying his body, looking down at it. Harry stood quite still, suspended. The towel ended up on the floor, pooling by his ankles. Malfoy's lips parted slightly, staring at his body, and still Harry stood quite still. They had not looked at each other fully naked for months. Pale hands rested on his hips again, pleased. Malfoy's face tilted towards his again, pulled his nakedness flush against his clothed body, and caressed his buttocks and lower back as lips took his throat and then his lips. He gasped into them, trembling.

Malfoy was smiling; he seemed glad that he was taking this hurdle again. Harry flashed his own open grin, a carelessly carefree expression that was happy Harry's prime look, and was rarely seen by any, but had been seen an awful lot recently by one lucky Slytherin. "Harry, can I touch you?"

A whisper in return: "Whatever you want."

Pale hands on him. He gasped and leaned against the sink, eyes lightly shut. A man starved of touch, finally gulping down sensation again. He wasn't going to last very long, but who cared? "Oh God, Malfoy…"

"Ssh, I'm going to make you feel good. You're beautiful…" and good things come to those who wait. Malfoy's hand stroking him, amazing, lips on his neck, just in the right spot for the blond to hear the habitual 'mpfh-ha!' sweetly gasping noise, and then teeth on his collarbone, gently, and lower. He felt as though the blond was feasting on him, as though desire had come rushing back. He wondered what had changed, but hoped he was the cause. Heard the low murmurs, "so beautiful…" somewhere near his navel. Felt a hot mouth close on him.

"Oh!" snapped his eyes open to watch. Malfoy had never gone down on him before. There were times before the Christmas Incident when he had thought he might, but he had skirted it. Now it was happening, and it felt a bit weird, but a good weird, a bloody fantastic, hot and gooey sort of weird. It was almost as if he were two people, one side of him watching the blonde's ministrations and feasting on the beauty of the moment, and the other side overcome with a fierce, hot desire, a shuddering pleasure building higher and higher inside of him…extinguishing any other sense around him… "Draco, I'm-" knees buckling, hands grasping the edges of the sink behind. Malfoy stood up, wiped his mouth quickly with the back of his hand but was pleased. Wondered whether Harry realised he had called out his first name, as he'd come. Cuddled the shaking naked body to his own clothed one instead of ask about it. Felt a sense of achievement. And something else, something that had been missing.

Harry's melted mind began piecing itself back together again. He sort of wished that what had just happened had taken place in a bed, but that couldn't really be helped, and the experience had been more than satisfactory; to tell the truth, it had been amazing despite being so wholly unexpected. Maybe it had been so amazing for the fact that it was so unexpected. He leaned back and scrutinised Malfoy's face carefully, a slightly serious expression though that of ease, a carefully measured expression so that there was no way he would frighten Malfoy away.

"Has something changed?"

Malfoy graced him with his sort of half-smiling expression. "Heard the shower running, knew it was you and just sort of thought I'd remind myself what I… I don't know." But was still looking at him, and that was encouraging in itself. Caressed his still naked sides in a rotating fashion that spoke volumes of familiarity and trust.

Harry had regained control of his own legs and other appendages now and was wondering whether he should put some clothes on, but he didn't want to move out of Malfoy's grasp while he still wanted to hold him, especially in this manner. So he waited. Malfoy sighed and looked him up and down again in an endearing way.

"Do you remember when we had that fight in the quidditch changing room, after a practice. In fifth year I think."

"Sort of," Harry replied. He frowned, he didn't really like it when Malfoy brought up their past.

"Hooch came in and broke it up, made us all go for showers. I still had my eye on you…"

"Pervert," Harry smirked playfully, carded his fingers in Malfoy's lovely hair.

Didn't mind so much that he was still naked, though he wondered where the story was going to lead.

"I think I was still pissed at you, even though we both only got off with having to sort out the brooms. I… sort of started looking at you I suppose, and I felt really angry about it. I didn't know I was gay then, I was really confused and I couldn't think of a way to blame you…" while Malfoy was talking, Harry wasn't sure what to think. The Slytherin had never talked to him about his own… sexual epiphany. Harry had sort of always thought that he might be gay. There were so many other weird things about him that when he finally decided on an 'orientation' he'd not really had that much of an issue accepting this new side of himself, but Malfoy… actually, did he have to be naked for this conversation?

"Let me just slip something on," he muttered, breaking the embrace, even though he didn't want to. He shucked on the pair of clean boxers hanging on the back of the door, quickly, and immediately replaced his arms around the blond. Stuck his nose into the soft locks and said, "Sorry, go on. Please."

"Come across the hall instead." Malfoy peered round the door, saw that none of the Order members were about, and tugged him gently across the hall to Harry's bedroom. Locked the door.

"Shall I get dressed?" A nod. Malfoy settled himself on Harry's untidy bed. They hadn't slept together that night. Harry had been plagued by nightmares, but he couldn't remember right now what any of them had been about. "Keep talking," he nudged, casting back over his shoulder briefly as he rummaged for a shirt and jeans that didn't look too tatty.

"My parents. I don't know if they know or not. If they do, I didn't tell them. I tried to; sort of… it's not… normal. I think they don't even really understand it. Being gay. They'd understand me not wanting to be with girls, I think. But not that I prefer men instead." Harry turned swiftly at the small unsure voice. Malfoy was crumpling the sheets with his clenched hands. He crossed the room in three strides and flopped down beside the blond, pulled him to him without question. Didn't even think to analyse it. "Say something silly. Now."

"…Did I turn you gay then?" Harry asked, cheekily, turning his head to crack a grin at Malfoy. His pale face flooded with colour immediately. "Couldn't resist my sexy shower ways…still can't…"

"Oy," Malfoy shoved him. Tension broken. Ten points to Gryffindor. "Not everything is about you, Potter."

Harry laughed, "God I hope not."

"Prat."

"Pervert." They giggled noisily, then stilled briefly at the distant sound of footsteps on the floor above. Harry released a pensive sigh, planting an unconscious kiss on the crown of the regal head. Wrapped the other boy more securely within the little cocoon of limbs. "You know this morning was amazing. Thank you."

"It was only a blowjob, don't get all sentimental on me."

"My first, actually."

"Is that true?"

"Mmm-hmm." They rested in a companionable silence for a while. Harry traced small circles on Malfoy's wrist softly, feeling the lovely pearly skin, and thin hairs with his fingertips. "I could go back to sleep like this. I wish it was just us here."

"We can't. In fact we're late… I've got Vector coming to tutor me in some Arithmancy later."

"Urgh yes, I remember. I have Divination with Trelawney. Yuck. I'd better make up some horrible predictions, she has an affinity for them."

"Useless subject."

"Hmm, yeah I know," Harry groaned in agreement, "wish I hadn't taken it now. Not that it matters, we're probably going to fail our NEWTS anyway, at the rate we're going."

"Speak for yourself, I study very hard!"

"Yeah, you're a regular Hermione." Harry snorted.

"Hey!" they grappled playfully for a moment, making 'sshhh!' noises at each other, the blond muttering 'speccy bastard,' until Malfoy had Harry pinned, breaking his open smile with a kiss that deepened immediately and lasted until they ran out of air and felt giddy. Harry gazed up at the blond in happy distraction for a moment, hoping and wondering whether he had been the blonde's first male attraction, and knowing that Malfoy would never tell him. His lips were captured again, softly, and they kissed for a good ten minutes more, light and undemanding, noses nudging gently, Harry enjoying the welcome weight of Malfoy on top of him, warm and familiar.

888

Divination passed, then Transfiguration, more Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, thankfully taught to them by Lupin, who had more free time and was practically living at Number 12 for the moment anyway… Harry felt as though his time was divided between study and Malfoy, which was exhausting in equal terms. He still had a horrible sinking feeling whenever he sat down to mull it over, that he might fail his NEWTS, and had never wished so much that he could get back in a proper classroom. On the other hand, things with Malfoy were going so well that he didn't want to leave.

It didn't matter that they still weren't lying naked together, that Malfoy still didn't seem to manage it, but generally they were so much more relaxed, comfortable. He felt comfortable enough to slip his arms round the blond without having to worry about being wriggled away from, for example, or plant casual kisses, or direct sunny smiles, without having to wonder whether he was being glib. He felt like Malfoy was his 'boyfriend', whatever that meant, and it was a pleasant feeling that made him feel all sort of squishy inside when he thought about it.

Felt that even though they weren't making love, they were together in many more ways than they ever had before.

"Could you help, please?"

"I am helping," Malfoy replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs at the ankle. Harry turned round and looked at him, mock-angry.

"If you helped me, we could be eating lunch right now."

"Finish lunch, and we'll have to sit with everyone else. Besides, you know I don't cook."

Harry tutted, returning his attention to the stove, where a huge vat of spaghetti Bolognese was simmering, ready to feed the fourteen Order members, aurors, and various tag-alongs that had attached themselves to the house today. Plus himself and Malfoy, who was understandably more easy hidden down here on their own, as he'd been on the receiving end of mistrustful glances and not-so-subtle comments whenever he had come into contact with these extra house-guests. He had sliced up a couple of French-sticks without much grumbling, but seemed to have reached the end of his domestic uses, at least in the kitchen. A pair of hands appearing on his waist surprised him. Malfoy set his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"I could make some tea…"

Harry released a happy sigh and turned his head to plant a vague kiss on his face, sort of splotchily on his cheek. "Thanks." Malfoy moved away from him and started putting things together, though he was using magic to do all but the very basics. Harry leaned against the stove and watched him, stirring the lunch idly. A gentle smile had crept onto his face and wouldn't leave. Warm eyes danced. He felt light inside. He hadn't succumbed to his recurring, habitual depression, in a long time. Hadn't thought of it either.

"Here," Malfoy handed him a steaming mug. He set it down on the counter beside him and transferred the spaghetti into a magically enlarged serving dish, levitating it over to the table because it was so heavy, and spelling the cutlery drawer to fly open and start setting out the forks and spoons. A casual wand flick set the new dinner gong going; an idea of Lupin's as it was difficult to go about rounding everyone up when there were so many people flitting in and out all the time. On the floor above, Sirius' mother's portrait began to wail. He turned back to locate the tea, and found his lips captured in a spontaneous kiss. His lips curved in happy surprise as he leaned into the embrace momentarily, hand finding Malfoy's. Distant footsteps came closer and they parted regretfully. Harry caressed the blonde's arm once more in a steadying fashion before drawing away, trying to arrange his features back into a more 'appropriate' outward expression. "What was that for?" Malfoy shook his head and went to take his seat.

Harry picked up his tea again.

He wondered, as the room began to fill up with ravenous people, some of whom he didn't really know, but was greeted by nevertheless, what Malfoy was thinking. Of the fourteen guests, Lupin was the only one to give the Slytherin a due greeting, and kindly engage him in a bit of conversation, taking a place next to him at once. Harry watched them thoughtfully, half paying attention to whatever Moody and the auror next to him were talking about. He wondered whether his presence was enough to stop Malfoy feeling alone.

888

"Hey." It was Easter weekend, Good Friday to be exact, and Harry felt as though he'd been living at Number 12 for years. He looked up from his Potions essay quickly, to behold a lanky, red-haired boy loitering in the doorway. Ron peered into the library nosily, "where's Malfoy?"

Harry stared back down at his paper, couldn't remember what he'd been about to write. "He was summoned… five days ago. Not back yet," he informed him, haltingly. Cleared his throat and laid the quill down carefully before bunching his hands into fists, shaking the heat away that had begun building behind his eyes again. Casting about for something else, he asked, "Where's Hermione?"

Ron loped into the room and threw himself haphazardly in the direction of a chair. It groaned as he dropped his weight into it. Harry picked a thread on his t-shirt, avoiding his best friend's concerned gaze. "Down in the kitchen talking to Lupin about grade boundaries or something. I see you've been getting your work done. You'll be her favourite person." Harry's lip twitched in response. "You alright, mate?"

"Not today," said Harry, truthfully. He was never very handy when it came to keeping things from Ron, so he didn't try. "Thought you might be him back."

"Ah, sorry," Ron scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully, brow creased up. They were all going to wrinkle prematurely. "Things going alright with you two then? You, er… sleeping together and stuff?" he asked, awkwardly. Better to get that kind of thing out of the way quickly than ask probing questions later, or find out in a less than ideal manner.

Harry reached over and put a blotting sheet over his half-done essay. "We're not shagging, if that's what you mean. But yeah, we're sleeping together. Sometimes. It's sort of been taking a while. Um, …thank you."

"Nothing I've done mate."

Harry got up and pulled him into a brief one-armed hug. Ron thumped him on the back. "How long are you here for?"

They trudged companionably down to the living room, where various Order members had been bagging the sofa on and off for the past fortnight, but now was mercifully empty save for more permanent residents. Right now it was empty. "Chess?" Ron pulled the old chess table towards them, even though the pieces belonging to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black were notoriously stubborn. They began setting out. "Just the weekend; we have to be back at school by the end of Easter Monday," said Ron, in answer to Harry's question. He nudged a pawn forward in the traditional opening move.

"I might be going back myself." Harry scratched his ear. He was no great shakes at chess. "McGonagall said from the beginning that she was hoping we –well, me, -would go back after Easter when they'd had a chance to work out what to do with Malfoy. She came by yesterday and said I should pack up again just in case. I think she wants me back in school until the exams are over."

"Does he know?"

Harry frowned, "He's not been here."

"But you'll tell him though."

"Of course! I'm -" but whatever Harry was, Ron never found out, because at that moment a bushy-haired girl burst in the door and launched herself at his bespectacled best friend.

"Oh Harry, I'm so glad to see you finally! What have you been up to? Are you okay? Have you been doing all your work properly? And what about you and Malfoy?"

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon giving Hermione the answers to all of these questions and more, and by the time evening had started creeping in, he felt a lot lighter than he had for the past five days. He was so wrapped up in having his two friends back with him again, that he almost forgot about worrying for the Slytherin.

Almost.

There were voices in the hallway outside. Hermione was reading a book with her legs slung over Ron's lap while he and Harry concentrated on the chessboard. Harry sat up straight, quickly, eyes fixed on the door, shoulders tight and arms tense. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, then at the door. "… not telling me something here," they heard a voice saying. Lupin's, maybe. Harry stood up, not breathing. Or maybe breathing too fast. Funny how he felt like there was no oxygen in the room when he encountered feelings like these. Jumped out of his skin when the door flung open suddenly.

Malfoy stood in the doorway, ashen-faced, and saw Harry first, then registered the two other Gryffindors, bane and unexpected saviours, of his life, sitting on the sofa.

"Granger, Weasley," he said. What else was there to say, he couldn't think right now. Hermione managed a "Hello, Malfoy," a cordial greeting, in return. He ignored her unintentionally; he was still looking at Harry. Weasley saying something about the kitchen and going to make some tea. It wasn't until the door shut behind him that he realised they were alone.

Harry walked towards him, cautiously, as though five days, six now, would have done something irrevocable to the blond. He met him halfway, touched his cold hand first, lacing the fingers quickly, instinctively, before he was pulled into a forceful, bone-crushing hug. He released the breath he didn't know he was holding, and heard Harry do the same. Stuck his nose into the messy black hair, dropping his head down so that Harry's nose was at the curve of his own neck, and his own cheek rested on the brunette's temple in a pain-relieving manner. Harry's glasses were in his way but they didn't matter to him much.

A few crushing moments, and then the arms enveloping him loosened somewhat. Harry choked quietly. He made a soft 'shush'-like noise and planted a kiss on the nuzzled temple, then moved to the lips. They connected desperately, unable to calm. Tasted Harry's salty tears, and his own. Eventually they ended up clung together, all sweaty hands and stilted breathing, foreheads rested together. Harry leaned forwards a little, nuzzled his nose. "God, don't ever do that to me again. I was so… I was so scared!"

"S'alright," Malfoy planted a brief kiss on his lips again and pulled him close again, trembling, "it's okay. It's okay."

"I thought you were dead," Harry whispered forcefully. He felt Malfoy flinch.

"Well I'm not," he asserted, croakily, swallowing. Snot, salt-water and saliva cascaded down his throat. He steadied himself. "I'll always come back, always. I promise you."

"Don't promise."

"I PROMISE!" a ragged breath. Glared at Harry in the eyes. "I will always, always come back to you." Harry burst into fresh tears. Malfoy leaned forwards and kissed him again. He didn't mind that Harry was snotty and teary, so was he. He felt the shaking body against his and deepened the kiss, claming. Eventually they calmed down. They had been making too much noise, and the door wasn't that thick. He hoped that Weasley and Granger had had the sense to stall Lupin, and anyone else prowling about, in the kitchen.

"Let me look at you," Harry was saying, scrutinising him carefully.

"I'm fine."

"I'll be the judge of that," Harry raised an eyebrow at him before releasing a relieved laugh, a breathless exhalation of 'thank God' expressed in one wordless burst of sound. He smiled sunnily, if a little tearily (if both could happen at once) at Malfoy and kissed him again, softly this time. Breaking apart they laughed quietly again, for no other reason than that they had to, and Harry's hands came up to tidy Malfoy's hair for him.

Malfoy looked at him, patiently still while the other boy's hands and eyes were on his hair. "I want it to be tonight." Harry stilled and looked at him. Malfoy kissed him on the cheek. "Unless you don't want to. Obviously."

"You have no idea how much I want to," Harry spoke softly, regarded him steadily. "Don't do this because you feel you have to, will you? You know I'd wait forever," he was sincere.

Malfoy laughed. "Come on, daft Gryffindor," he said, secretly moved, tugging Harry to the exit before releasing his hand, "that tea'll be stone cold."

888

The distantly muted noises of nocturnal animals scratching about outside the house, the general ancient creaking and the low sighs of portraits and books were the only sounds that could be heard under the roof of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Hermione had her nose stuck to 'Awfully Advanced Arithmancy: NEWT Edition,' and Harry and Ron were back before the chess game, both staring intently at the board, Ron wondering how he hadn't managed to get Harry in check yet, and Harry keeping a close eye on his last knight. Malfoy sat at a desk, the scratch of his quill on his parchment and the occasional clink-drip sound of refilling the nib from his ink-pot the only sounds of his studying, as he wrote steadily, his own Arithmancy book open on a desk-lectern in front of him. Lupin had gone to bed a good half an hour ago, and as far as they could tell there was no one else about tonight, though they were half expected to be invaded by the Weasley clan by Sunday, Easter eggs at the ready.

Harry raised an eyebrow and nudged his precious knight forwards. "Check," he said, satisfied, breaking the silence. Hermione glanced up in surprise. Malfoy's quill stopped scratching.

"What? Where?" Ron glared at the board indignantly. A few tense seconds passed, then he burst out laughing. "Oh – Harry, you twat." He swiped the knight. Malfoy snorted. Harry scowled and folded his arms.

"Fine, I give up then."

"Ah," Ron wiped his eyes, looked at Harry and started laughing again. When he had controlled himself, he said, "sorry." A snort, and off he went again. Harry got up and stalked over to the empty fireplace. He started rearranging the candles on the mantle, petulantly. "Come on Harry. Oh fine. Malfoy, care to pick up the side?"

"I think I'll save my dignity to be crushed another time," Malfoy replied, sagely. Ron blinked at the compliment. Malfoy cleared his throat quietly and glanced at Harry. "I think I might go up…" he took a short breath and reminded himself that the Gryffindor golden couple already knew about him and Harry. "Are you coming?"

Harry glanced briefly at Ron and Hermione. Ron had turned the board and was looking at Harry's side. Hermione had disappeared behind the book again. "Yeah," he walked over and took Malfoy by the hand. The blond glanced down at it, pleased. "Night guys."

"Night," said Ron, distractedly. He moved Harry's rook and eliminated one of the white bishops.

"Night Harry," Hermione laid her book to one side, "goodnight, Malfoy."

The door closed and there was silence in the room for a while. Hermione budged over and took Harry's seat at the side of the chess-table. After a moment, she leaned over and gave Ron a soft peck on the lips.

He grinned at her, "what's that for, beautiful?"

She gave him a wise look.

"You're a very good friend, Ronald Weasley. That's why."

And so he is. I love Ron, a very under-appreciated character I think. He's like the Samwise to Harry's Frodo, in a way, the Robin to his Batman, the Harper to his Sharpe... etc, you know what I mean.

Please do take a minute to review, it's lovely of you.

skinnyrita xxx