A/N: Hello all. Sorry for the delay, but real life and a somehow ridiculously hard chapter to write got in the way. I present you with one of the final chapters of Danger Zone; I'm quite sure there will only be two more, plus an epilogue, and I hope you all stick around for the end. Thank you so much for reading this far, and I hope you enjoy what's ahead.

On a side note, there is some sexual content in this chapter. It is not graphic, as doesn't hold with that, but it does have some language, and I hope to not offend anyone with what is in fact posted. For those of you who would prefer not to read it, feel free to skip it and go straight to the ending part. For those of you interested, there is a more detailed version on my LJ and on KTB. Once again, I'm not trying to offend anyone with the content of this chapter, and I give you this warning ahead of time just in case. Thank you, and enjoy.

-Chapter 12-

Paella and a Proposal

June 21, 1999

"Oh, gross! Do they have to do that?"

Harry opened his eyes slightly, grinning into Draco's mouth as he saw the disgusted look on Ron's face. He knew that his friend didn't really mean it; after all, he had been watching their gestures of affection for the better part of the day already…but Draco was another matter.

Draco pulled back a bit, gave Ron an evil glare, and then yanked Harry towards himself, pressing their bodies together and swiping his tongue inside Harry's warm mouth. They both groaned at the sensation and sudden roughness, though Draco's eyes were still open and sparkling mischievously at the wide eyed look on Ron's face.

"Honestly, Ron, they both nearly died, right after they found each other. There's no need to be rude," Hermione chastised.

"Yeah, Weasley," Draco pulled away to say, though he did not relinquish his tight hold on Harry. "I nearly died. I was nearly sacrificed, but Harry saved me. We found each other, Weasley. Don't ruin our happiness after we almost died."

Ron got a guilty look on his face, though it was replaced by a slightly unhappy one again as Draco went back to kissing Harry breathless. Hermione just chuckled to herself, amused at their obvious antics, and her boyfriend's complete obliviousness. They only stopped as the imposing figures of Severus Snape and Headmistress McGonagall made their way into the room, followed by several Aurors and Ministry officials who were waiting to hear from Harry what had happened. McGonagall had a twitch on her lips as she eyed their close positions and clasped hands; Snape's face was sour, especially as he looked at Harry; the people from the Ministry openly gaped at the pair, until Draco cleared his throat and raised his eyebrow in question.

Snape recovered instantly, stating that they would like to question Harry about the events leading up to his coma.

Draco immediately protested.

"He's only been awake for a few hours. Do we have to do this now?" he complained, glaring at the Aurors but looking pleadingly at Snape.

"I'm afraid so, Draco," Snape explained, his voice by no means soft, but a little less harsh than usual. "Harry is the only one who knows of what truly happened between him and that…witch, and it is imperative that the Ministry understands the knowledge that he now possesses, before it fades into memory."

"Trust me," Harry said calmly. "There is now way I will ever forget the events of that day." Though his body was stiff with remembrance, he relaxed slightly as Draco gently squeezed his hand. "It may take me a moment, but I can talk about."

One of the Aurors stepped forward and introduced himself, before asking the remaining people to leave the room.

This time it was Harry who protested, though Draco wasn't far behind.

"No. I want them here, so I won't have to repeat it again."

"I'm not leaving him!"

"Very well, very well," McGonagall said, a twinkle reminiscent of Dumbledore in her eye. "Let's all hear it then, from the very beginning."

"Okay," Harry nodded, taking a few deep breaths as he saw the Aurors bring out Quick Quotes Quills, and McGonagall conjuring a few more chairs so they would all be more comfortable.

"Alright," he started. "We were in the kitchen, when there was this huge explosion…"

"…and she just transformed, right before our eyes! I swear, Professor, she must have been like Tonks! A Metamorphagus."

"But then there is no way to truly identify her!" one Auror declared. "Unless you saw her after she had passed, or if you can find your way back to her prison."

Harry shook his head. "No. I didn't see her body, and I have no idea where we were. Draco?"

Draco paused, thinking hard. "I was a bit preoccupied with you at the time…I'm not sure if I could find my way back….I don't even know how I found my way back to Hogwarts really. It was really just instinct while I was flying."

Snape nodded, his fingertips tapping each other gently in front of him. He spoke for the first time since Harry had begun his tale, "And what of the power exchange she was planning? The theory behind it is rather….interesting. And Draco was unable to help us with the exact details, claiming to be in a type of fog, just as you described."

"Yes. After she transformed into Gwen O'Malley, she locked me into the chamber, taking Draco with her. I tried everything I could to get out, but nothing worked. I eventually decided to take advantage of the library she had left at my disposal. It was with that information that I finally figured out the exact proportions of the ritual involving Draco."

Harry took a deep breath before continuing.

"Draco's Veela heritage that was awoken by Voldemort," he ignored the winces that the Ministry officials and Ron still gave, "revealed his potential to be used as conduit for a magical transfer, a one-way exchange. In the beginning I thought that she wanted to transfer Draco's power to herself, as the rituals in the book had outlined."

"You can suck someone's magic right out of them?" Ron shrieked, looking like he wanted to climb onto the nearest chair and hide from the mouse in the corner.

"No, Ron, it only works with Draco," Hermione said tiredly.

"Oh," he replied, completely serious. "Well, now I know that." He nodded for Harry to continue, ignoring everyone's stares.

Harry shook his head a bit and held in his laughter, before sobering up once more. "But when she finally came back and started to begin, it was obvious that Draco was merely an intermediary and a means to get at my own power. She tied us up, took both of our blood, and began the transfer."

"We already know that you managed to escape your restraints, thanks to Mr. Malfoy's account of events. How do you explain that, and what happened next?" the same Auror questioned.

Harry looked down at his and Draco's hands before answering. "I used…I used wandless magic to break free. Draco…was dying. I could feel it. The transfer was killing him, never mind the magic that was being taken from the both of us. Once I was free I forced myself into the circle and managed to stop Guinevere for a few seconds. It was enough."

Harry looked up, green eyes blazing. "The tapestry that had been burned showed a blue eyed figure, a dragon, and something behind it. It, along with a few words I found in a hidden book, were the key to understanding it all. The dragon had the same cut that Draco had when he first arrived, the Guinevere re-opened….and which I then cut into myself. Sacrificial wandless magic, given by a willing person to save the life of another. Given without fear, with the purity of despair and its absolute intentions, with the innocence of both light and dark, to be able to make the ultimate sacrifice and give it freely, without desiring anything in return. In a ritual that depended on the unwilling given blood and power of its participants, what I offered was the exact opposite, and worked to counteract all of its ill effects and reverse the transfer. Just as my mother sacrificed herself to save me, I knew I had to sacrifice myself to save Draco, with the one power that a Dark witch or wizard would not be able to fight against, to be able to understand or comprehend."

"And what power was that, Mr. Potter?" the Auror asked.

Harry's eyes met Draco's, and stayed there.

"Love."

Once the Aurors and Ministry officials had been ushered out, with promises that they would continue to search for Guinevere's cloaked companion and her lair, Harry and Draco continued to lay on the bed together. Harry was still under Madame Pomfrey's confinement, and Draco wasn't about to let Harry out of his sight. As it was, they had a lot to discuss now that Harry was awake, the most prominent issue being the future and the repercussions of what would happen once all the information was released to the public, who had undoubtedly noticed when Harry went missing and then returned unconscious several months later.

Draco was talking rapidly about all the plans they had to make, on how he had made little changes here and there to the flat and that of course Harry would simply love them, and how much attention and fame were now going to be heaped upon them once more. Harry himself was trying desperately to reconcile two very different sides of himself, one part that wanted to visit his friends and return to life as it was, and another that simply wanted to get away from everything and just be with Draco, now that he had him. Watching Draco speak animatedly about his Potions now, and how he hadn't felt so at peace with his work since he had been in Spain, even with the late dinners, Harry came to a decision.

"Let's go to Spain," he said, interrupting Draco's babblings about the uses of holly and sea water in a salve for bruises.

"What?" Draco asked, completely confused.

"I said, let's go to Spain," Harry repeated calmly. "As soon as we see everyone and get things sorted out, let's just leave. Just go someplace and relax and not have to worry about anything."

"But Harry--"

"You said so yourself, you can be at peace with your potions back in Spain. It's where you first started developing your wing potion, after all."

"But Harry," Draco tried again, "you would hate it. It's the bustles of London, but in a completely different language and with different standards of magic, and sure the food and people are great once you get away from the tourists but you wouldn't have a clue what to do and…"

"You could simply teach me Spanish and no one would bother us, because I'm not important over there, and we could just spend a month or so by ourselves in utter seclusion, having copious amounts of sex and wine and food and not having a care in the world," Harry said, smiling winningly.

Draco still looked troubled, but then he smiled and his eyes sparkled. "What was that about wine and food and sex?"

"Well, I'd give you a preview, but one, Pomfrey could barge in any minute and I'd rather not have interruptions; and two, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing when it comes to having sex with you, so I'd rather leave our exhibitionist sides for when I have a bit more experience."

"Oh trust me," Draco grinned, "You're going to get all the experience and tutelage you need." Peppering light kisses all over Harry's face, he continued huskily, "Soy un profesor muy bueno."

June 30, 1999

"Oh my god that is amazing. What do you call it again?"

"Paella. It's a traditional Spanish meal, and therefore perfect for our first night," Draco answered.

"It's great, Draco." Harry spooned more of the rice dish into his mouth, before discovering a giant prawn under the rice and chewing on that as well, humming appreciatively as the spices and flavors burst onto his palate.

"I can't believe this it happening. We're having a candlelight dinner under the stars on a cobblestone street in the middle of a foreign country. I don't know the language, the customs, the people….and I really couldn't care less about my inability to communicate at this point. I just know that I want to learn, and to take a breather." Harry leaned forward over the table, placing his hand over Draco's.

'Thank you, for this," he said softly. "I needed it."

Draco turned his palm upwards to meet Harry's, entwining their fingers.

"No, Harry. Thank you."

July 31, 1999

Harry sighed a bit impatiently. Tonight was his and Draco's last night in Spain. They had already packed most of their things in preparation for their departure in the morning, and Harry was starting to realize how much he would truly miss the new country he had learned to love.

The past month had been exhilarating, and he had spent his time well learning a new language as best as he could; shopping and sightseeing; visiting beautiful mosques and cathedrals with exquisite architecture and art; traveling to Toledo and picking out his own sword from the incredible designs they had on display, and laughing as Draco picked an exact replica of Gryffindor's sword, save for it was inlaid with emeralds instead of rubies. He and Draco had traveled the countryside, reveling in the green hills and soft blues of the Castilian sky and enjoying the easy familiarity of the people who lived in them. He had seen Spain at its best, with the flashy and exciting nightlife of Madrid, and the rustic and stoic beauty of Seville. It was truly an experience he would never forget, living in a place that was so exhilarating. And best of all: no one recognized the Boy Who Lived.

The serenity he had so recently found, however, was fast fading as he waited on Draco. Usually punctual, the blonde was late to their dinner celebrating both his birthday and their last night in seclusion. He had received owls carrying packages and well wishes earlier in the day, though Draco had made no mention of the presents. In fact, he hadn't wished Harry a pleasant birthday either, or even acknowledged the day as anything but their last in Spain. Harry was a bit hurt by the slight, but he let it go, since he had been unconscious for Draco's birthday back in June and was hardly in a position to compare.

Harry sighed again, drumming his fingers on the table and leaning his head against his other hand, before getting up and walking over to sit down on the edge of the hill. The night was gorgeous, the sun just beginning to set over the horizon, and though it was completely sappy and romantic of him, he wished that Draco were here to witness such beauty by his side.

"Thinking of me?" a voice whispered in his ear.

"Always," Harry smiled, turning around and meeting Draco's lips in a passionate kiss, twining his fingers through the man's blonde locks so that he could pull him closer.

The grin was still on his face when they pulled away from each other and Draco sat down next to him on the grassy hill overlooking the quaint town they were staying in. Harry leaned into Draco's warmth, smiling into his neck and ignoring everything else in the world beside him.

"Dinner's getting cold," Draco murmured, though his arm didn't move from Harry's shoulders.

"Let it," Harry sighed.

"But I made it especially for you, as your present," Draco said. "Harry?"

Harry was silent for a moment. "You made me a special dinner?"

"Hmm. Dessert, too," Draco agreed. "A lovely chocolate torte, with a raspberry puree finish."

"You made it?"

"Yes. I am an excellent cook."

Harry was silent again before he raised his head and looked Draco straight in the eye.

"Dinner can wait."

They stumbled into the hotel room, kissing furiously and ripping off the clothes they could reach. Draco kicked the door closed, barely registering the slam it made nor the expensive vase that fell off of its shelf. Harry's hands were on Draco's belt, quickly unbuckling it and nearly tearing off the button of his pants as he yanked the fabric and snaked a hand inside. Harry grinned as Draco moaned appreciatively into his mouth and an answering hand found its way into his own pants.

They continued half-stumbling, half-walking together, shirts half on and pants pooled around ankles, shucking off shoes as they furiously stroked and squeezed and twisted until the back of Harry's knees reached the bed and he fell on top of it, pulling Draco down with him.

"Enough!" he gasped, pulling his lips and hands away from the blonde. "I don't want to come yet. I want…I want you in me. I want to feel you come inside me, all hot spit and sweat and sex."

Draco's eyes closed as he groaned. "Fair enough."

The last of their clothing was thrown down to the floor, and Harry was on all fours. A few weeks ago Harry would have never thought he could do this, behave so wantonly and feeling only dark, deep desire inside of him, the urge to fuck and take and be taken. He could never have imagined the slick and slightly burning feel of Draco's fingers. This was so fast, so furious, so rough and dirty and quicker than any time they'd ever spent together yet, and Harry was so incredibly turned on that he couldn't even speak, only whimper and groan for more.

"Now?" Draco breathed, his hot breath against Harry's ear.

"Now."

Those fingers were pulled away and Harry was breached before Draco paused, allowing Harry to adjust. It was only a few seconds, though, before Harry nodded rapidly and rolled his hips back roughly. They groaned in unison as they were finally joined, stilling for a moment, before something snapped and Draco and Harry were fucking, hard and fast and wonderfully brilliant.

Harry reached an arm back and grasped Draco's head as he leaned over him, yanking on the blonde strands and twisting himself around so that he could kiss Draco, lips barely brushing each other at such an angle, but all the emotion and passion still passing through them.

Harry was so close, the sweat pouring off him and rubbing back into Draco as they ground together, nothing else mattering in the world except for the sensations running through them, nothing else except for Harry being filled and Draco being the one to fill him. He could feel Draco getting close too, and he knew it would just take a little bit more to push them both over the edge.

"Harder," Harry groaned. "Come on, Draco. Fuck me. Pound me into the mattress. Fuck me."

Draco groaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head, andhis orgasm hit him like a freight train, rolling feverishly through him and burning a fire through his whole body. His heavenly bliss was intoxicating, and then Harry was right there with him, yelling out his ecstasy as well.

They collapsed in a sweaty, hot tangle of limbs and harsh breaths that echoed in the now silent room. They stayed like that for a few moments, still entwined and panting harshly, before Draco pulled himself from Harry and flopped onto his back, one arm over his head and the other draped possessively over Harry's back.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Draco chuckled a bit at their inability to form better responses, but soon even laughing required too much energy. Harry scooted closer, allowing their bodies to huddle closer and keep the warmth they had so recently made. They lay together in silence, soaking up the radiance that nearly exuded from their frames.

"I love you," came the whisper from somewhere around his hair.

Harry stilled, barely feeling Draco's hand still ghosting over his back. Though Draco had implied it many times, he had never flat out declared his feelings for Harry. And this…

Harry raised his head so he could look Draco in the eyes, but he saw no mistrust, no hesitation, no worries in those grey orbs. All he saw was warmth and confidence and…yes, there was love.

"Say it again?" Harry asked quietly.

Draco lowered his head so that his mouth was right by Harry's ear, and then spoke again, "I love you, Harry," before pulling back and meeting Harry's eyes once more.

Green eyes sparkled back at him, filled with joy and laughter. "I love you, too."

Draco smiled and stroked Harry's face.

"I know. Happy Birthday, love."

October 11, 1999

"He what!" Harry asked, a look of shock on his face.

"He proposed! Harry, I'm getting married! We're getting married," Hermione shouted excitedly, face red with joy and possibly the heat of the fire from where her head was suspended.

"Why that's brilliant, Hermione. Congratulations! Have you set a date?" Harry inquired politely.

"Oh, some time soon. Right after the new year, maybe. But that just means we have so much to plan! I've got to do some research, get books on the subject, talk to my mum and Mrs. Weasley, get brochures for reception areas…."

"That's great, Hermione, you do that. Call me when you both decide, all right?" Harry interrupted.

"Oh yes, of course. Bye! Now where is Ron?" Harry heard her mumble before the connection broke.

Harry sat there for a few minutes, grinning widely and shaking his head, before he got off his knees and turned back to his desk. Draco himself was sprawled out on the couch nearby, reading a book and looking highly amused.

He and Draco were in the study of their new flat in London. After the busy life of Madrid, Harry had decided he didn't want to go back to the quietness of Hogsmeade just yet. Draco was more than happy to comply with living in a section of Wizarding London that was situated right next door to the hottest clubs and restaurants in the city.

"Now what is so funny?" Harry asked finally, as Draco continued to stare at him with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Nothing," Draco protested. "I'm just surprised Granger didn't see through that completely fake look of shock you gave her when she announced the engagement."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked innocently.

"Come off it, Harry! I know perfectly well you went shopping with the Weasel last week to search for engagement rings. You knew he was going to propose, and of course she would say yes," Draco said, waving his hand around.

Harry paused for a few seconds, before he turned back to Draco, biting his lip. "Was I really that obvious? I knew she would be so excited and I didn't want to spoil it for her and…"

"Hush, Harry," Draco said, brushing his lips over the Gryffindor's to stop his babbling. "Granger may be brilliant, but no one can read you like I can…and it better stay that way."

Harry just laughed at Draco's jealousy. "Like I would have it any other way."

He leaned in for another kiss, before turning back to his desk, sighing at the bills still laid out in front of him.

-A few hours later-

"Why don't we?"

"Why don't we what?" Harry asked, still looking at his papers, confusion utterly evident on his face at the sheer magnitude of the numbers glaring back at him. Let it never be said that accounting was Harry's strong suit.

"Get married," came the soft reply.

Harry's head snapped up to stare at Draco. "What?" he whispered.

"I said, why don't we get married?" Draco asked, perfectly calm and serious.

Harry laughed. "That's funny, Draco, that really is. Get married; why, we've only been together for four months! We're only nineteen, for fuck's sake!" he continued to laugh, before cutting off abruptly as he realized that Draco wasn't laughing with him.

"Yes, I can count you know, I am very aware of the fact that we've only been official for four months," Draco snapped a bit, before his expression changed back to the seriousness it bore before. "And I realize that we're rather young, but so are Granger and the Weasel. Besides, time doesn't matter with us."

"Harry," Draco said, kneeling down at Harry's feet and cutting off whatever retort was about to escape the Gryffindor's lips. "I spent six years getting up every morning and eating breakfast across a hall from you. I've now spent a year eating breakfast across a table from you; sometimes across a mere bed from you. You have become part of my life, a much bigger part than I would have ever expected. We've spent so much time together, whether we were fighting or making love or any of the other exhilarating things we've experienced together. The point is, I can't imagine my life without you."

"Harry, my Harry," Draco whispered, raising his hand up to cradle Harry's cheek. "We belong together, plain and simple. We have something, something that no one else can ever have. We have each other. I am yours and you are mine. You're mine, Harry. I won't be letting you go. Now, please…won't you let me be yours?"

The next moment found them both on the floor, Harry straddling Draco's hips and kissing him furiously, hands roaming everywhere they could reach.

"Yes," Harry whispered against Draco's lips, before breaking away to look into clear grey eyes. "A thousand times, yes."

TBC. Please R/R.