OH I AM SO SORRY! Ok I most apologize for the very long wait. Classes have once again started up and I will find less and less free time to sit down and write for you guys, for which I am so sorry! That being said, this story is coming close to an end….after this chapter there will roughly be about 7 more chapters….however, I have no idea what my writing schedule will play out as school always comes first. For anyone that is interested, I am an honors art major concentrating on studio drawing with a full scholarship through the honors program….never let anyone say art cannot get you far. So, I will be busy busy busy…but I will try my damnest to get chapters out as fast as I can. Thank you so much to anyone still reading and reviewing my work…..it means everything. Special shout out to TakeMyBlackHeart and Artemesia-Hime….you guys always put the biggest smile on my face and I thank you for your loyalty each and every chapter!

ENJOY!

ONE MONTH LATER

With an air of finality and as much decorum as he could muster, Draco wadded up yet another letter, and threw it in defeat towards the far most wall of his office. He watched it drop, the offending writing landing with the lightest of mocking, before he promptly set it a flam with a flick of his wand and a sneer of his lips.

He fell down then, none to gracefully, back into his desk chair, before watching it burn from across the room; just as he had done for the past five letters. The Dragon felt like growling. To let forth flames from his very depth of his growing impatiance with his persistent father.

Falling back lightly, his feet now propped atop his desk, never minding the stack of papers and important documents, Draco reached to pinch the bridge of his nose, rolling his fingers in a circle pattern to try and will away the developing pain in his head.

Duty withstanding of any Pureblood wizard.

He closed his eyes, the words of the most recent correspondence echoing around in his jumbled mind as he continued to rub determinedly at his pounding temple as it increased in severity.

As the days had gone by, and more and more sternly written, dreadfully anticipated, letters had arrived, Draco could feel himself manifest into a bundle of stress. With each letter from his Father, with each text of disapproving, self-dignifying, duty enriching, and Pureblood obligatory word; he could feel his anger intensify and swell.

Considerate we still love and wish the best of our son…

Despite the dread and uncertainty the heavy mails had brought in the last several weeks; Draco should have been appallingly happy. He now had somewhat control of his club again, with the return of Lev and the release of pressure of having to shuffle around his heard of subs, Draco was pleased to find no more meddling accruing.

Not only had that, but a sense of peace drifted within the "Keep's" walls. It was as if his patrons were aware of the contentment the once solitary Dragon was feeling towards his newly acquired sub. And content he was; if not for his Father's increasing expectancies.

Please take mindfulness that you have an obligation to your family, to your name Draco.

His father's craftiness was not missed by Draco. He understood all too greatly the means of witch a Malfoy could deploy to when becoming desperate to persuade his point. The first several letters had been somewhat harsh; brash with demands and threats. Yet, as they continued to be delivered, his scheming father had begun sprinkling his demands with kind words and sympathy, as well as heavy doses of guilt.

Would you leave it be, in your decision to maintain such an undignified lifestyle, that your ancient name be erased from the Wizarding world?

With the contents of the last letter heavy on his mind, Draco could not help but imagine the death of his once renowned name. Would it be so bad if the once heavily respected title, now turn to ridicule and disgrace, died with him? The name Malfoy did not carry its once importance any longer, and Draco did not see the significance of it continuing. Yet, his father was not crass, and knew how to dig his meanings of urgency with a smooth tongue and an insight into his only son's troubled cognizance.

You could morph the Malfoy name back into good graces. Be the change to the degradation I brought upon our family.

With eyes still closed, and his fingers not achieving their job at banishing his headache, Draco pushed roughly away from his desk; spinning his chair around once in a seemingly playful fashion. He now faced the stairway, hoping and dreading, that a figure with messy dark hair would descend to give him comfort. None appeared.

Harry most likely was still blissfully asleep, his dreams surely unoccupied with the increasing weight of burden and responsibilities.

Despite his sullen mood, Draco felt himself smile as he stared wishfully up the spiral staircase. His true obligations resided here, with his club and with his beautiful sub. Harry surely needed him, and him Harry, more than his father and his family name needed their heir.

What would become of his boy if he was to leave? Harry had been steadily improving in all that once troubled him. Through regular scenes, balanced between pleasures and obligatory, finally was Draco seeing the peace behind Harry's eyes that he had once never had the privilege to see.

Never mind that his spitfire sub was a burden to control, that Harry had his own agenda when regards to things he found fit and surely a seeker for sound punishment. Draco regarded his sub, his lover and partner, Harry, with the highest regards of respect. That didn't, however, make Harry any less of a handful. Yet the Dragon never found an easy hunt any fun. What was the reward and pleasure if the Prey submitted all too easily?

If he was to bow down to his father's whims, if he was to drop all and head fast to the Manor and the continuation of the Malfoy line, what would that mean to Harry?

Biting his lip, his eyes still trained to the stair way leading to his dwellings, Draco wished not to fathom the hurt look that would grace his sub's face if he was to decide to head his father's beckoning. Green eyes would swell with unshed tears, as brows scrunched up in anger and betrayal. He would stand ridged, his eyes unblinking, as his chest heaved heavily with forced control. His Harry was too strong now to grovel. Instead, he would suffer silently. He would regress back to solidary existence, to desperation and empty bar mingling, a stranger's bed and a mind cluttered with repressed needs. He would regress back to desperation.

Draco would therefore have to stay. Would need to maintain his new position in the Savior's life as his rock and guidance. Their symbiotic relationship was quickly become that of a necessity for them both. Draco could not abandon all that they had built thus far. He would stay, would stay until he no longer felt the man needed him. He would ignore the increasing letters, for shellfish wants and desires. He would stay until he no longer felt warranted. He hadn't failed yet.

He then finally tore his gaze from the empty stairs, nodding to himself as he justified his decision. He got up then, smoothed his business attire, and began his trek back up to his apartment.

Do not fail me my son, do not fail your Malfoy name.

Not for the first time, Draco cured his father.

He climbed the stairs slowly, deep in thought, as he pondered the increasing persistency of his father's words. He would be able to ignore them, which is to a point, yet, as he neared closer and closer to the door to his apartment, knowing what laid behind the portal from his club to his personal dwelling, Draco immediately shut up the nagging voice within his head.

Deep troublings or not, the thought of Harry appeared as if a beacon of light, and as Draco lightly pushed open the door entering into this bright living room, he chastised himself for becoming so attached so suddenly to such thoughts.

This whole thing, to have a relationship with someone, was entirely new to the Dragon. Never before, unless one counted his mistaken years at Hogwarts with Pansy, had Draco Malfoy ever 'dated' anyone. It wasn't that he couldn't find some fine bloke to fancy, but rather never before had he cared enough to commit himself to someone so fully. Then of course Potter had decided to barge himself right back into the forefront of Draco's life, as if a stunner was aimed directly at him; turning everything he had known upside down. Not for the worst, that is.

Shaking his head somewhat in disbelief, Draco paused to listen, and when satisfied Harry must still be fast asleep, he padded quietly into the kitchen.

If it wasn't strange that he now considered himself in a serious, though certainly not vanilla, relationship with none other than Harry Potter, it most definitely was strange to believe that the wizard was now practically living with Draco as well. Not that he was complaining or anything, Draco actually didn't mind the added company that the spark wire brought with him, but it was indeed different for the blond.

He opened the fridge then and quickly decided on cooking himself and his sub a batch of pancakes, before taking out the necessary ingredients and bringing them forth to begin cooking. His wand remained tucked away in his trousers. If he had learned anything whiles growing up at the Manor, where food was arranged constantly with magic, magically prepared food tasted like rubbish comparably.

Whiles mixing the batter, Draco thought back to how nice it actually was to have someone nearly always around. At first he feared he would hate it, would resent waking up to another in his bed, wouldn't enjoy the constant company and mundane conversations, that he wouldn't find pleasure in sharing his only bathroom nor fighting over position over the sink when brushing their teeth, or monopoly on what was to be had for dinner. And he didn't love everything, but nor was he lonely any longer either.

Yet how dare that one man have so much of a power of him, that Draco had sunk as low and sappy as to cook breakfast in bed for him. Not for the first time since entering into his relations with Harry, did Draco find himself rolling his eyes, as he finished flipping the last of the pancakes before finally reaching for his wand and levitating them all to a large plate. Then, after gathering a couple of napkins and forks, as well as two glasses of pumpkin juice, did Draco carefully magic the tray to follow behind him as he headed for the bedroom.

And again, not for the first time, he wondered who was dominating who in this relationship.

As expected, Harry was still fast asleep as Draco entered into the bedroom, the tray following close behind bringing with it the sweet smell of buttermilk and syrup. Immediately he felt himself smile, suppressing his instinctual desire to smirk and grumble at the rat nest of hair peeking out from underneath the silk sheets and large white duvet.

Instead, he walked forth with no complaints before setting himself down gingerly onto the corner of the bed, as to not startle nor disturb his sleeping partner. As the tray stayed floating behind him, he watched the bundle that was Harry sleep on, his breathing moving the covers over him up and down in rhythmic precession. It was also not missed by the Dominant that the boy was now firmly snuggled up close, his nose buried deep, against Draco's normal pillow.

When it was clear that Harry was not waking up on his own anytime soon, slowly Draco moved himself prone instead, his head falling softly besides Harry's and his arm coming across to begin soothing pets across the smaller man's side.

Suddenly a smile grew along Harry's lips, as his eyes remained closed and his breathing still even. Smiling more himself, Draco continued his petting; watching patiently as his sub slowly began waking. Harry stirred, his head burying deeper into Draco's pillow, as he turned to hide his eyes and a low moan escaping his mouth.

Draco moved his hand upward from the other's arm to tangle amongst the man's messy locks. Harry seemed to grumble again, his body moving closer to Draco's as he slowly stretched his muscles. A bit reluctantly, it seemed, he moved his head to speak, "Is that pancakes I smell?"

Draco chuckled as he leaned down to place a tender kiss to Harry's forehead, "Why don't you join me from the dead and find out for yourself Potter." He flicked his wand to bring forward the food before sitting up himself. He nudged the still prone man with his foot, "Better hurry to admire my fine cooking skills too," He then grabbed a plate and served himself a fine helping, "it's not every day that I decide to grace the world with my talent."

"No, instead you grace us all with your pigheadedness," Harry sat up then, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before he stretched his arms wide, his right arm landing across Draco's shoulder, "I'm not so sure the world is large enough for your ego though Dray." he wandlessly summoned his glasses from the bedside table, before landing a kiss on Draco's left cheek.

In favor of not protesting, Draco instead laughed, nodding along his agreement, "I'll eat to that." He then took a large bite from his plate, not before covering his pancakes in a sprinkling of chocolate chips. He took pleasure at Harry's appalled face before he too served himself.

"I've said it once but I will say it again," Harry picked lightly at his own stack before knifing off a welcomed portion, "your sweet tooth is appalling."

Draco, from his now inclined position on the bed, plate hovering obediently in front his person, watched as a trail of gooey syrup escaped the other's mouth and traveled down a shining path of sugar along Harry's chin, "Indeed," Harry quickly darted out his tongue to catch the sweet drop before wiping at his mouth crudely with his free hand instead of a napkin as Draco smirked from his side, "I'm the appalling one."

Obviously the sarcasm was lost to his sleepy sub, as he simply nodded his agreement before diving into another large bite. Draco muffled a laugh as he heard an otherwise occupied mouth grumble something along the lines of, "it's good," before continuing on.

Once both boys were well fed, and most definitely full, plates discarded, did Draco try to breech the rather uncomfortable conversation of the delivery of yet another letter. Eyes closed, he ran his fingers through the mess of dark hair laying contently across his chest. Harry hummed, the noise reverberating through Draco's side, as the Dominant searched his jumbled thoughts.

"Father sends his love," he swallowed thickly, his hand still absently fumbling through his sub's dark forest of hair, "wants to know if we will spend holiday with him and mother, was telling me that he knows of this lovely spot in,"

"Cut the shit Draco," Harry had turned, immediately seeing through the other man, and glared at Draco with an air of impatient exhaustion, "I highly doubt dearest daddy wants to extend the family holiday to his son's deviant sex slave."

In any other circumstance Harry's stare and dry tone would have been comical, now however….

"No I don't gather he would but,"

Harry again cut him off, earning his sub a careful glare and raise of a brow, before Draco steadied him with a helpless turn of his lips. Harry contunied on anyhow, "I'm guessing another letter arrived?"

It wasn't voiced as a question and Draco had no choice but to bow his head to his lap and nod. He heard Harry sigh before turning to lay back down on the bed. Looking up, Draco decided to do the same, before both men laid staring at the ceiling, arms crossed, and eyes sad. Neither spoke for several beats.

Finally, Harry, ever the brave, spoke, "What are you thinking my Dragon?" The question ghosted across the short space between the lovers, the plea evident.

It was a heavy question, one riddled with tangents that dove deeper and deeper into darker corners of Draco's mind. He was thinking, more wishing, that the letters hadn't started at all. He was thinking it was almost so simple, that the struggles him and Harry had faced might have finally been over. He was also thinking that he would like to end this annoying persistent harassment, to stand up to his father at last and demand that he leave Draco and his lover very well alone. Yet….

"Im thinking we need to head down to work," he ignored the slight glare Harry omitted from the corner of his eye in the direction to where Draco was now standing up, and instead turned to head towards the door. He swore he felt physical heat from the direction of where the other stayed, Harry's anger that evident.

"Don't you dare ignore this Draco Malfoy," From where he stood, the Dominant heard his sub heave himself from the warmth of the bed, before he felt a heavy hand land solidly onto his shoulder. He decided it was almost relaxing, before," I know you better than you might think, don't you dare ignore this, coward away from it until you,"

He turned faster than he meant to, resulting in Harry having to take several retreating steps back to maintain his balance, before the green glare was aimed directly at his own blazing stormy eyes. Draco clamped his jaw tightly together, indecisive as to reprimand Harry's brashness or be grateful for his bluntness. Instead, however, he settled for neither. No, instead he loosened his jaw, ignored the confusion omitting from the smaller man, and turned right back around to exit the door.

"I will see you down at the club," He didn't pause as he passed through the living space towards the stairway door, but instead spoke over his shoulder, "remember that your new uniform is in the closet." Then, leaving a too still Harry in his wake, Draco forcefully opened the portal and made way down to his club.

Somewhat solemnly, Harry stared back entranced at his reflection, masking in the steam dissolving in Draco's on suite, as he watched himself blink slowly. He held his own gaze then, daring the mirrored Harry to raise a questioning brow and demand what the fuck he was going to do. When instead he was met with nothing but his own blank expression, he turned angrily away from the mirror vanity and proceeded to towel off.

It wasn't that he was actually mad, he couldn't actually find it within himself to blame Draco for the past month of uncertainty and stress. It wasn't his Dragon's fault that his father was an absolute prick. Yet frustration was clawing at him day by day, insisting that he not get too comfortable, to not fall under false pretense that he was allowed happiness.

And none of this, this worry, could be faulted directly at Draco. If anything it was Harry's own fault, his fault that he had dreamed that he was finally allowed peace and contentment, to not have to fret every day of his life.

The past month had been nothing short but a confusing game to his otherwise stable mind. On one hand the past weeks had been some of the best of his life; he felt happy, contented in his role in another's life, and if he was to even dare think it: Harry had been feeling cared for, loved even. But on the other hand, the constant shadow that had been looming and growing over his and Draco's fresh relationship was becoming too large to ignore. The letters had been relentless, and as more and more came, Harry felt as if his position in Draco Malfoy's life was becoming less and less stable. Who would give up the dream to marry, have a children, to have a family, to be with someone like Harry?

True, Draco had been ever the doting Dominant, doing what he believed he must to convince Harry that his father's constant persisting was nothing more but a bit annoying, yet Harry knew better. Harry knew that as the days went on, and more letters arrived, that Draco's own patience with the shadow was dwindling. He hated to admit it, but Harry's heart twisted each time he caught a familiar gleam across the Dragon's face when the man was unaware of his looking; desperation.

Harry mustn't grow too comfortable, as Draco Malfoy had always been a coward.

Peeved now that he even, no matter how briefly, believed that he had found his place, Harry roughly discarded his towel in the bin beside the door, before walking completely nude back into the bedroom. Making his way first to the closet, Harry searched until his eyes landed on his new uniform positioned with the rest of his migrated clothing. Draco had decided, not too long ago, that Harry was to now be officially a valued employee of his infamous club. He felt himself scowl softly in the garment's direction, not pleased at what the article represented; conformity.

It wasn't that Harry necessarily disapproved of those that worked at Draco's club, no on the contrary he had learned to love and care for many of the Dragon's hired and respected those that could withhold and enjoy such a job. Yet, what did adorning the black suit and tie represent? Try as he might, Harry couldn't help but think that once he joined the black flock of the Dragon's keep, that he would eventually fall into the heard of sub's the Dragon cared for.

No matter how ridiculous the thought of falling from the grace of Draco's attention and devotion sounded, Harry just wasn't confident in himself nor their relationship to stop the thought from seeping deep. Though the Dragon claimed his new position was "head submissive supervisor" a title of which he had no idea involved, he still held his doubts.

Tentatively, Harry ran his hand gently across one sleeve of the black jacket that hung in front of him. He swallowed thickly then, before reaching to retrieve the hanging garments. Head bowed, he trotted back into the open space of the bedroom, the back suit in hand, before spreading the uniform in stark contrast across the white duvet of the bed, before taking notice of something.

The only thing that held his smile in place and his hopes from completely dashing ,as he paced long strides through the living space and down the twisting stairs towards the heard and his Dragon's world, was the dark red tie wrapped tightly around his neck. A red tie, not silver. Red.

Maybe the Prey's Dragon wanted him for more than necessity.