Author's Note: I know I promised weekly chapter updates... Sorry. Please don't throw things. In addition to this, I should have chapter 22 ready to post sometime tonight or tomorrow morning. Two chapters in one week!! That's gotta get me a few points, right? Enjoy!

Chapter 21 - To Severus

After leaving Andromeda's house and making one quick stop, Harry returned to Grimmauld Place and spent the evening listing to a Quidditch game. Or he tried to anyway. He turned it off when he realized that four goals had been scored and his mind was so far gone that he hadn't even heard the plays. Then he tried to read for a while. But after twenty minutes he still hadn't made it past the first page. He polished his broom and browsed old Quidditch magazines. Draco still hadn't arrived. Not that Harry was terribly surprised. He had said he might stay home with his mother that night. Still, he hoped.

At ten Harry got tired of staring at the clock and informed Kreacher that he was going to bed. Only Draco was to be allowed in.

Harry wasn't really sleepy. Lately he hadn't been going to sleep until midnight or after, but there was no way he was going to spend the next two hours wishing that Draco would show up, so he undressed and climbed into bed. He looked over at the night stand where he had set the package from the chemist and flushed. He had been nervous buying it. And had he imagined it or had the store clerk looked at him funny when he gave her the money?

He hadn't realized that there were so many different kinds of lube and stood there for several minutes, overwhelmed by the choices. He didn't know what kind to get and wasn't about to ask for help. He had never used any lubricant before, so all the different names sounded odd. The warming and tingling kinds scared him a little. Then there were the different flavors. He wasn't sure why someone would need kiwi-strawberry flavored lube, but decided that he wasn't curious enough to pursue the thought further for now. After counting five different varieties he shook his head and moved on to the regular, unflavored, unscented, safe, normal stuff.

Now he just needed Draco there. They had decided that the next time they were together, they would finally have sex. It made Harry's stomach flip to think about it. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. He still thought it was amazing how fast he had fallen for Draco. It felt so right, like they had been together for ages. He couldn't get the blond out of his head, even when they weren't together.

In fact, he was getting hard just thinking about him now. Sometimes Harry still couldn't believe how completely attracted he was to Draco. Once he stopped living in denial about being attracted to another man, he couldn't get enough of him. Harry sighed and reached a hand under the sheets, encouraging his growing erection. He would have preferred Draco's hands touching him, but a good wank never hurt.

In his mind it was Draco stroking him. He could feel his hot breath on his ear, whispering dirty things. Harry moaned thinking about the blond and that wonderful mouth of his.

It could have been his imagination, or the fact that he lived in a very old house, but he thought he heard the floorboards creak in the hall. He stilled and listened carefully. Kreacher didn't generally wander around the house at this time of night, but Harry refused to get his hopes up that Draco had come over. He held his breath when he heard another creak, this time closer to his door. Finally the doorknob turned and Harry smiled, watching as a blond head peaked inside.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be asleep already. Kreacher said you went to bed."

"I was bored."

Draco shut the door behind him and approached the bed. "Bored?"

"The quidditch game was lousy." He paused as Draco raised a single eyebrow at the lie. "And I couldn't stop hoping that you would come."

"Yeah, I guess I was bored too." He climbed onto the bed, straddling Harry. He could feel the other man's erection through the blankets and smirked. "You're hard."

Harry blushed, but nodded.

Draco leaned in for a long, soft kiss. He then moved closer to Harry's ear and whispered.

"Were you touching yourself?" Harry closed his eyes tightly and nodded. "What were you thinking about?"

"You," Harry barely managed to breathe out. "This."

Draco glanced at the night stand and saw the package there. "Do you still want to do it?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to top or do you want me to?"

Harry bit his lip. He had thought about this nonstop since they made the decision. He had never done anything like this before, much less with another boy. At least Draco wasn't a virgin and knew the basics of what he was doing. As much as he worried about how much it would hurt, he thought he would be much more comfortable if Draco was the one taking charge.

"You."

"You're sure?"

He only hesitated a moment before nodding and pulling Draco in for another searing kiss. When they pulled apart Draco was smiling mischievously. He stood and made a show of removing his cloak tossing it over the chair in the corner. Then he slowly pulled his shirt out of the waist of his trousers and over his head. He playfully threw it at Harry, who laughed in response.

Harry laid on his side, watching, getting more excited by the moment. Draco stripped slowly, torturing Harry. Finally he stood naked in the middle of the room, beautiful and confident. Harry's heart skipped. They were actually going to do this. He threw back the blanket, exposing his own naked body, inviting Draco to join him. Draco looked over his lover's body and once again climbed onto the bed.

They kissed again. A long, lingering kiss that seemed to go on forever while their hands tangled in each other's hair and their erections rubbed against each other.

Draco pulled back and reached for the package on the night stand. He opened the box and tossed it to the floor.

"How do you...?" Harry began in a shaking voice. "I mean, should I move?"

"No, I think this is good. Just... er... spread your legs more."

Harry blushed deeply, but did as he was told. Draco took a deep breath and knelt between Harry's legs. His heart was pounding as he opened the little jar and coated his fingers in the slippery substance. Beyond fingering himself a few times and reading a little on the subject, this was entirely new to him. With one hand he reached up to stroke Harry's cock while the other moved down to his entrance. Harry moaned as Draco rubbed his finger over the tight hole and then pushed into him, slowly probing deeper. He worked another finger in, slowly stretching Harry until he was calling out for more. He let out a little whimper when Draco withdrew his fingers to spread the lube on his already leaking cock.

He took one more deep breath and met Harry's eyes. Harry nodded in answer to the unspoken question and Draco slowly pushed into him. He gasped at the feel. The tight warmth. The sensation of being inside another person. He stilled when Harry winced and gave him a moment to adjust.

"Are you okay?"

Harry nodded. "Just give me a second."

"I won't do anything you don't want me to do. It'll be easier if you relax." After a few moments Harry did just that.

"Keep going."

"You're sure?"

"Just move, damn it!"

Draco smirked at his eagerness. "As you wish."

He began slowly, shaking with the restraint it took not to go faster. He was afraid of hurting Harry by being too rough, but the urge to thrust harder and faster was nearly overwhelming. He worked up to it gradually, following Harry's directions as his moans got louder and his breathing heavier.

It did hurt. Harry couldn't deny that, but somehow it wasn't the bad kind of pain. This was… filling. Pleasant even. It ignited every cell, every nerve and made him want more. More Draco. More pleasure. Each thrust bringing him closer to the release that he so desperately wanted now. He was yelling Draco's name as he reached down to stroke himself to completion.

He came first, a burst of pleasure so strong that it made him dizzy with it. Then he felt Draco shudder and come inside of him. He collapsed on Harry's chest, breathing hard and Harry could feel his heart pounding against his own.

Sweaty and exhausted, Draco reached a hand up to cup Harry's face. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again and smiled.

"What?" Harry panted.

"I don't even have the words for it."

"Brilliant? Fantastic? Fucking wonderful?"

"Yes. All of those."

"Why the hell didn't we do that a month ago?"

Draco laughed and moved off of Harry, settling on the bed next to him. "That's a good question." His breathing was starting to return to normal. "I blame the house elf."

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It was nearly lunch time Sunday when Draco wandered into his mother's sitting room and sat down with a book. She was startled by his sudden appearance and looked up from her embroidery.

"I thought you would be at Harry's house."

Draco shrugged. "He's with Weasley and Granger."

She nodded and turned back to her needlework. "Will you be going over there later?"

"He won't get back until late, so there's no point really." He tried to sound casual, as if he was actually reading the book. In truth, he was staring at the words, thinking of far more interesting things. It was only his guilt over leaving his mother home alone in the big empty house all the time that kept him from seeing Harry that day.

"And you cannot go over to his house late?"

He frowned and looked over the open book at his mother. "Well, I could, but there really isn't any point."

She glanced up then and smiled. "I think you and I both know you would find a way to pass the time, regardless of how late it is."

Draco wasn't generally so ungraceful as to let his mouth hang open stupidly. It was something he had always considered more of a Weasley trait. But that was exactly what he did while he wondered if he had heard his mother correctly and if she was implying what he believed she was.

"You don't have to hide things from me, Draco."

"Just for clarification… What exactly am I hiding?"

She sighed and looked back down at the fabric in her hands, although she didn't make an effort to continue her project. "I understand why you were hesitant to say anything before. And I certainly would not suggest telling your father about it right away, but really there is no point hiding it from me. I know what time you come home at night. Or rather, morning."

"You have the elves spy on me."

"One of them lets me know when you get home safe. That is all. It is hardly spying. If you require more time with your friend then take it. I only want to know that you are safe. Beyond that, what you do with your friends is your own business."

"How did you know?"

"How could I not?"

"And you're not upset?"

Her eyes met his then. "No, Draco. As long as you are happy I am not upset."

"I am, Mother." She smiled at him and he put his book on the coffee table. She really was okay with this. He had been so worried about her reaction, but it was better than he could have hoped for. But then he felt even more guilty for leaving her alone, while he was off selfishly spending every moment with Harry. What had happened to them? When he was younger they would spend hours together. Now they hardly ever spoke, even though there was no one else to speak to. "Would you like to play chess with me?" he finally asked.

They used to play the game frequently when he was a child. She taught him after his father had given up playing it with her. For some reason they hadn't in a long time and Draco found that he missed it.

"I just said I don't mind if you go over to see Harry."

He shrugged. "Perhaps I will later. Right now though I was wondering if you will manage to take my queen."

Narcissa set her needlework next to her on the sofa and with the faintest of smiles she met her son's gaze. "You know very well that no Malfoy man has ever beaten me in chess."

"There is a first time for everything, Mother," he replied with a smirk.

Meanwhile, Harry was sitting at the Weasleys' kitchen table with Ron and Hermione, waiting for dinner to be finished. They had tried to offer some help, but Mrs. Weasley banished them to the table, complaining that they were all tripping over each other.

"Are you ready for your trip?" asked Hermione.

"No, but I still have three weeks. Draco is insisting that I get new clothes before I leave. I have the robes I got the beginning of the summer, but a lot of the trip is in the muggle world and a lot of what I have is Dudley's old things, so…"

Harry trailed off as he caught a look pass between his two best friends.

"Draco is insisting, huh?" asked Hermione.

"Well, he's helping me figure out travel specifics: what to pack and all that. He's traveled a lot more than I have obviously."

"I half expected you to announce he was going with you, given how close you two are now."

"Merlin, Hermione," Ron muttered, looking away from them.

Harry scowled. He wasn't going to tell Hermione or Ron the truth, that he wanted Draco to go with him. Apparently they already knew it anyway. He did his best not to blush and give away anything more about Draco. He shifted in his chair, arse still sore from the night before.

"I didn't think the two of you had a problem with Draco."

Hermione regarded him for a few tense moments and then sighed. "We don't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to sound the way it did."

Harry wasn't sure whether to let that go or not, but he didn't really have anything to say. He knew if he opened his mouth again it would just start a fight. He was saved deciding by Mrs. Weasley approaching them with a stack of dishes for the table they were sitting at.

"Is dinner almost ready, Mum?

"Oh yes, dear," she answered. "We can't eat quite yet though. We're still waiting for George and..." She trailed off frowning at the table.

Harry glanced to Hermione, whose eyes had gone wide. Ron stared at his mother, wondering if he should say something. Finally Mrs. Weasley took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Mum?" Ron tried. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes flew open and she gave her son a small smile. "Fine, dear. I was going to say that George should be here soon. We're just waiting... for him."

She turned and went back into the kitchen, three sets of eyes following her. They all knew how much effort it took for her to say "him" instead of "them." And although she didn't comment on Fred, at least she seemed to know that he wasn't coming. That alone was a huge change compared to how she was before. Harry was relieved that maybe this one thing could be fixed. So much had been lost in the war that he had begun to lose hope that any of the damage could be repaired.

Other things had changed though that he couldn't blame on the war. Ron and Hermione were a couple now. And while he was genuinely happy for them, it meant that the relationship the three of them had shared since first year was changing dramatically. They spent a lot of time together without Harry, talked about things without Harry. Or perhaps talked about Harry. He loved spending time with Draco, but couldn't help feeling more left out than ever when it came to his friends.

He still wasn't sure what to tell them about his relationship with Draco. For that matter, he still wasn't sure what his relationship with Draco was. Draco was his… friend? Boyfriend? Partner? Harry didn't even really like that word. It sounded too formal or professional. He figured they ought to call it something soon, because with each passing day it was more obvious that they were much more than friends. Every time they were together made Harry less sure about leaving for his trip. He had been excited at the thought of traveling alone at first. Now, he was sure he would spend all his time thinking of what he was missing at home.

Instead of missing Draco before he even left, Harry concentrated instead on managing his time better. He wanted alone time with Draco and also to be with Ron and Hermione. With her throwing herself into her Ministry job it got increasingly difficult to see her. Harry sometimes thought that it would be less trouble to meet with the Minister himself. Sometimes all four of them had dinner at Grimmauld Place together. They had gotten comfortable with each other, although Harry thought there were still some tense moments between Ron and Draco. There was a lot of bad history between them and their families. They may never be best friends, but the fact that they were even civil was more than Harry could have hoped for.

And still there was no sign of the Death Eaters. It was as if they had never existed, as Harry often pointed out when the subject came up in conversation. Secretly though, it made him uneasy. Their silence could only mean that something big was coming next. The only thing stopping Harry from canceling his trip was the small part of his brain that was still in denial about the whole thing. If he didn't think about it, didn't give in to them, then they didn't exist. Changing his plans because of them was letting them win.

At the end of September, a week before his trip, Harry had nearly everything taken care of. He had bought new clothes and a camera and all the flight and portkey tickets had been booked. There was just one more thing he had to do before he left. The most important thing.

The school governors had agreed to meet to discuss hanging Professor Snape's portrait in the headmaster's office and Harry was asked to attend to give his testimony. He was nervous as he and Kingsley walked up to the school from Hogsmeade and it must have shown.

"There is nothing to worry about," the Minister's deep voice reassured him. Harry nodded and they walked a few more moments before Kingsley cleared his throat to speak again. "I wish you would reconsider leaving for your trip right away."

Harry sighed. They had been through this several times now. Kingsley had even convinced Hermione to talk him out of it.

"I wish I could stop being reminded that people still want me dead."

"It won't be forever."

"And how long will it be? When can I begin to live my life?"

Kingsley looked away from him. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm only looking out for your safety."

"I appreciate it."

"I do think what you're doing for Severus is good."

"It's not as much as he deserves."

"But you do what you can. I can't say that he would thank you for it, but I think that he would be less horrible than usual if he knew what you've done."

"Actually, Minister, I think he would be more horrible than usual if he knew I was being nice to him."

Kingsley laughed. "You're probably right. He'll never be remembered as the most likable fellow."

"No, but I will see to it that he's remembered as one of us. Not one of them."

"We will convince them."

Harry stopped walking; they had arrived. Harry stood, staring up at the castle, not quite believing where he was. It was the first he had been back since he killed Voldemort. He could still see the battle, the crowd of friends and classmates standing in and around the entrance hall. He could still feel Hagrid carrying him and hear the screams of those he loved when they believed him to be dead. What used to be home, a place of comfort, would never be quite the same again.

They entered the school and Professor McGonagall was waiting for them. She looked tired, much more so than when Harry last saw her at the funerals. The school had been mostly repaired over the summer and he could only imagine how much pressure she had been under. She led them down to one of the unused rooms in the dungeons. How fitting, as that was Snape's territory. Harry felt that somehow made them closer to him.

As it turned out, the governors needed little convincing after all the letters they had received as a result of the Daily Prophet article. Harry showed them Snape's memories of his and Dumbledore's conversations. Harry, McGonagall and Kingsley all made statements on Snape's behalf and then the governors agreed to have the portrait finished and displayed.

They explained that the castle's magic automatically began a portrait as soon as a person was made Headmaster. Each day, each moment the individual was in command of the school the castle magic added information to their portrait so that it would be ready whenever it was needed. However, it wasn't displayed unless the castle deemed them honorable enough. Generally, most headmasters got a place on the wall. If they retired then the portrait would be completed upon death. Snape did not retire. He was still Headmaster when he abandoned the school while its students were in danger and because of the way he left, the castle's magic did not finish the portrait. It took a great deal of magic to finish what the school would have done on its own. One person would have to work on it for at least two weeks before the portrait would be ready to hang and even then, it would only have Snape's memories up until the moment he left the school grounds on the night of the battle.

Hogwarts had always seemed like a living thing to Harry. The way the stairs and the hallways changed went beyond any magic that the teachers could have been producing, so it made sense that the castle itself was responsible for the creation of the portraits. Snape would finally be honored.

After the meeting, McGonagall invited Harry and Kingsley up to her office for drinks. It was strange to be treated as an adult by his old professor, even though he was one. He doubted he would ever truly feel equal to her. He remembered her voice being the first he heard when he was presented as dead to the school. And here she was now, composed and calm once more. Harry would never forget the sound of her scream and the bravery with which she fought against Voldemort himself.

She led them slowly up the stairs to her office, although Harry would always think of it as Dumbledore's, no matter how many other deserving Headmasters may occupy it in the future. McGonagall's walk wasn't as brisk as he remembered it and she held an arm out to the stone wall to steady herself.

"Sit, please." She sat down at her desk, but before she could continue they heard Dumbledore's voice.

"Did all go well for Severus?"

"He should be joining you in just a few weeks, Albus."

"Good, good. Harry, my boy, I am proud of you."

"I'm only sorry that I didn't listen to you about Professor Snape sooner, sir."

"The two of you had more in common than either would care to admit, I think," the portrait replied with a smile.

While they were speaking, McGonagall had bent and retrieved a bottle and a glass from the bottom drawer of her desk. Kingsley raised an eyebrow at that.

"You don't think I've survived this summer on pumpkin juice, do you, Kingsley?"

He laughed at that. "I keep similar supplies in my drawer, except it is protected by three different locking charms."

"Aurors," she muttered, shaking her head. She conjured two more glasses, poured the Fire Whiskey and handed them each one. She held her glass in the air for a moment. "To Severus," she said. Tears were forming in her eyes.

Kingsley and Harry both followed her lead, repeating the man's name.

"The bravest man I've ever known," Harry added before bringing the glass to his lips.

Dumbledore nodded as the other three drank the liquor in honor of their fallen ally.