First and foremost: thank you all for such kind responses! Please, keep the reviews coming; I shall strive to not lose your attention.
Secondly, the HP part of the story is post HBP (roughly a year later). I do not own Harry Potter – just in the case it wasn't obvious from my previous disclaimer.
Enjoy!
Brynn

Chapter 1: Sewers

"We fucked it up, Potter," remarked a blonde boy sitting on a scarce pile of half-rotten, suspiciously red-coloured straw, leaning back against the wall. It wasn't the first time he had said that… Harry wouldn't usually lower to such language, but in this particular case he had to concede it might have been appropriate.

"We did. And, before you start-" he effectively stopped the flow sooner than it came, seeing as the other boy was breathing in, preparing to speak, "I'd say we are about equally guilty."

The blonde grinned.

"You said the same that time McGonagall caught us atop the Astronomy Tower after curfew."

Harry shrugged.

"It was true." Facing an irate Headmistress had been a nasty affair, but he was fond of that memory in general. It was something to hold onto after they had been dumped in this pit.

"Was not," objected Draco calmly and continued counting the stones the wall was made of. It was about as exciting activity as anything else he might have been doing there.

"Was too."

It had been a hard year, the longest one on Harry's life by far. At the same time it had been the most beautiful one. It started off as a cruel streak of unfavourable events, though: the Order allowing underage wizards to join; Ginny and Hermione being sent to Beauxbatons;

Draco Malfoy appearing in the middle of Grimmauld Place – where Harry had been forced to stay – on one rainy August morning…

"D'you think we'll get to see the sky once more?" asked the blonde out of blue and startled Harry from his thoughts.

He shook his head in amazement – claiming the Astronomy Tower was more romantic than the Room of Requirement was one thing (even if it landed them in detention; luckily Draco had been able to think up a believable excuse in stride, otherwise they could have ended much worse), but wishing to see the sky…

Harry wished he could see his friends… but Draco didn't have any friends. Apart from him… Anyway, they both shared the loathing towards the idea of dying in the sewers… like rats…

Harry smirked.

"D'you want to?"

Draco scoffed, thinking that Harry was being ironic. One look at the Gryffindor's face was enough to ascertain him he meant it earnestly. He tilted his head back, touching the cold rock and sighed.

"It's not like we can change anything about it."

Harry's smirk widened, though his eyes remained darker than Draco ever remembered.

"We'll break out."

Draco gagged.

"What for? The second we're out we face about thirty Death Eaters, and that only in the case there's no meeting taking place-"

"Well, we won't live through this either way. At least you get to see the sky…"

'…cause there's no chance I'll see Ron and Mione ever again.' Harry somewhat saddened at the thought, but didn't let it surface. Much more than that was needed to melt his resolve. What made him actually almost content with the prospect was the fact that the Prophecy admitted that after his death, anyone could take out Voldemort.

"Point," muttered Draco. He was obviously at the verge of tears, but closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. Slowly, gradually, as he contemplated the idea, he opened his eyes again. They had lost the mist from a while ago, and something flashed in them that made Harry shiver.

The blonde pushed his long hair out of his face and – ever so gracefully – climbed to his feet. He took a step forwards, and stuck out his chin in his best commanding pose.

"Come here."

Harry hesitated, but eventually, squinting at the other boy, he smiled. Battered, dirty, sticky… just like himself. In one fluid, half-unexpected movement he closed the two-feet-wide space between them and met Draco's hands, Draco's body, Draco's mouth.

It was all familiar, but for once Harry let go of his restraints and poured all his emotions, his unfulfilled hopes, broken dreams and dead desires into what he was doing. There was no one going to judge him anymore. Bury him, if they were lucky. Eat, if they were not. Just for a while, they deserved to be let to live their lives to their fullest.

"One more time…" Draco mumbled into Harry's hair, with a restraining hand put on the Gryffindor's forehead. This was something he wanted to say before they were too out of breath to speak: "And then we'll see the sky."

o

Draco felt desperate and he expected their love-making to be just like that – desperate. However, after the first kiss that seemed as if they were both subjugated by the blind passion, Harry got a grip on himself and for a short while took control. He became tender – more tender than Draco ever remembered him, speaking wordlessly of all the things he had on his mind, about life, love and the two of them.

This time they had no reason to hurry. This time they didn't have to worry that someone would walk upon them, that someone would uncover the unprecedented relationship between the two hardly-of-age boys. They didn't have to care whether Mad-Eye or Kingsley would get wind and separate them, refusing to send them into the field together. They had no idea – no one had any idea – that the dream-team, the most efficient duo in the rows of the new generation of the Order of the Phoenix, were lovers.

Harry's fingers counted Draco's ribs under the remnants of the shirt, and the blonde's breath caught as he watched the rags being disposed of. They both knew the Gryffindor was taking his time purposely. He could easily discard all Draco's clothing, no matter how complicated the fastening mechanisms were, in about fifteen seconds. After the year of practice they had had in broom cupboards in Hogwarts, in their lockless bedrooms in Grimmauld place and atop the Astronomy Tower, there was no fumbling, no uncertainty, no shame.

It was chilly in the underground, but he was quickly heating up from inside. Harry was pulling off his pants, fighting all the obstacles with silent determination that was simply himself. Sometimes it seemed that he was made of it – a personification of determination. People saw him as so many different things – a hero, a warrior, a victim, an early orphaned child... Draco was sure he knew better. He knew that Harry once probably had been someone else... but now he was determination.

He felt a hand sliding up the back side of his thigh, and despite his will arched into the slightly smaller body standing so near to him. Harry, just as slowly as he administered all of his care, laid him down on the straw and straddled him. The freezing was blocked out when Draco's brain seemingly short-circuited. A pair of brilliant green eyes entranced him; so much was mirrored in them, so many times they had darkened with lust, and the handsome face had been distorted by the feral want… Only he knew 'the Saviour' like that…

But now Harry's eyes were crystal-clear, and it was more than obvious that he actually wanted to remember every second, not just succumb to the pull and let his body take over.

The narrow gap between their bodies closed and Draco arched again. Harry leant down and kissed him, this time more deeply and thoroughly than before, and maybe a bit hastier.

Draco gasped for air and Harry didn't even close his mouth as he drew a wet line with his tongue; across the cheek, down the throat…

Draco was missing something quite severely, but with his current incapability of holding on to any thought for more than a split second he had virtually no chance to figure out what it was. His thumb caressed Harry's hip-bone; it was a bit more protruding than the last time they had slept together. This was how he would remember his lover – how he would remember him for the rest of their short lives and hopefully forever…

"You know… there was time when I hated you…"

Harry straightened, putting a frustrating distance between them, but a fleeting touch of his fingertips on Draco's chest provided the answer to what was missing. Such had been Draco's perception of the lack of caress administered, while Harry had worked on doing away with his own clothes.

Those words hung in the silence for a while, during which a pair of vibrant green eyes clashed grey ones. Then Harry tilted his head to the side, narrowed his eyes, cast a wandless Silencing charm and switched their positions faster than Draco could grasp what was going on.

He wanted finish that thought, to say that he didn't hate Harry anymore, that he probably even loved him… instead, he got the opportunity to prove it.

o

Harry knew for a fact that the shirt he was wearing had once belonged to Draco, but he couldn't quite remember which one of them had it on before they stripped. It didn't matter too much after all, the only 'authoriy' that might see them in the next few minues was Severus Snape, and Harry personally wished that the man would be haunted by the memory of what was going to happen to the two of them for long years yet. Maybe he would even pass a chance on killing the man if he got one…

'Showtime-' he thought and stood facing the wall that (according to his orientation sense, which was nowhere near as pitiful as everybody supposed – sometimes it was useful to 'get lost') separated them from the staircase. Draco joined him, for once resisting the urge to fight his jitters by prattling on about what they were going to do, or simply still under the influence of his spell… they joined hands.

It eased the chanelling a lot, helping Harry control the magic of both of them. He was more skilled with using it; letting Draco play now would be a loss of precious energy. The blonde, of course, knew it, and was content with the arrangments - he looked around uncertainly, then took a deep breath and gave Harry a rather chaste kiss that felt painfully like a goodbye. The stones started crumbling…

o

Coming up in next chapter: Edward wakes up! Harry and Draco proceed, but Harry's master-plan fails!