Chapter Ten: Telling Draco

Harry was curled up in one of the green chairs in Draco's room, struggling to get through his Potions homework without being distracted by the boy in the opposite chair. His brow furrowed as he tried to force his sluggish, uncooperative brain to remember what the ingredients for a Dreamless Sleep Potion were. It wasn't working.

"Aargh!"

Draco raised a slim blond eyebrow at him. "Are you all right over there?"

"No," Harry said petulantly, frowning at the textbook in his lap. Draco smiled slightly and, going over to his boyfriend, leaned over Harry's shoulder to see what he was working on.

"What are you having trouble with?" he asked.

"Keeping my mind off you," he replied truthfully. Both brows shot up this time and Draco smiled a smile that was shy and sly at the same time—Harry loved that smile.

"Really?" Draco asked softly. Harry loved that Draco trusted him enough to show his vulnerable side. Draco's softer side was what he found the most arousing. With a wicked grin, Harry reached out, wrapped his arms around Draco's slim waist, and pulled the smaller boy into his lap. Draco yelped in surprise, then made himself comfortable in the warm nest of Harry's body. "I don't think this is helping," he commented.

"Nope," Harry said, satisfied. Well—mostly satisfied. He turned Draco's face toward his and pressed his lips firmly against those of his boyfriend. That was better. Draco made a contented noise and opened his mouth to allow Harry's tongue to have entrance. Draco reached up and gently removed Harry's glasses and tossed them into the empty chair. Warm silver eyes smiled into intense green ones before their lips met again. Harry's fingers skillfully tugged Draco's shirt out of his pants, and slid his cool hands up Draco's warm, smooth back. Draco shivered and, without thinking, burrowed deeper into Harry's lap. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he moaned quietly. He felt Draco's mouth curve into a smile against his lips and before Harry knew what was happening, Draco had swung his body so that he was now straddling Harry's lap, his legs threaded through the gaps in the arms of the chair. Draco moved against him again and this time, with Draco's hardness pressing so intimately against his own, Harry clenched his fingers in the material Draco's blue shirt as his head went back in a groan of one who is truly suffering. He only had so much willpower, and Draco had nearly reached the end of it.

"Draco," he gasped when he felt his boyfriend shift his body to move again, "you better stop that. Now."

"Aww. How come?"

"Because I refuse to be responsible for my actions if you continue."

"Really, now?" Draco said in the most horribly mischievous voice Harry had ever heard. Harry gave him a look and the blond pouted. "You're no fun."

"You have no idea just how fun I can be," Harry promised him in a deep, seductive voice, and Draco perked up again. Deciding he had to get himself out of this very vulnerable position, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's back and stood up. After a puzzled look, Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's back and Harry walked him towards the bed and dumped his boyfriend unceremoniously onto the green-and-silver comforter. Draco flipped his blond hair out of his face and gave Harry a mock-glare. Harry only grinned. He liked seeing Draco look ruffled. He had already figured out that the weirdest things about Draco turned him on. Like buttons. He ran his fingers up the front of Draco's shirt, playing with the small ivory buttons.

"You wore a button-down shirt tonight just to get to me, didn't you?"

Draco grinned. "Now, why would I do that?" he asked innocently.

"Because," Harry whispered as his fingers found the top button, "you know that when you wear buttons I can't seem to keep from imagining myself undoing each and every one... very...slowly," he said, drawing the last two words as he "fumbled" with the top button. Finally it slipped out of its loop and Harry went to the next one. Every second that went by Draco's heart beat harder in anticipation. He decided he liked that Harry liked buttons.

After what seemed like an agonizingly long time, Harry finally pushed the shirt off Draco's shoulders—while still carefully avoiding touching his skin—and Draco shrugged out of it, letting it fall onto the bed. His entire being screamed for Harry to touch him—anywhere. Harry let it drag out for a few more seconds, then ran his fingers lightly up Draco's pale chest. Draco shivered violently and Harry's smile turned even more feral. Draco decided enough was enough and he grabbed Harry's shirt with both hands and yanked it over his head. Once Harry was shirtless as well he rolled over and pinned him to the bed, reveling in the feel of his bare skin against Harry's. Harry, feeling more than a little out of control, reached above his head to grab Draco's headboard and, in the process, knocked Draco's shirt behind the bed. Draco frowned at him.

"You better pick that up or it'll wrinkle. It's silk," he said. Harry gave him a look that clearly said You have got to be kidding me. "Hey," he said defensively, "it's not like I can just go out and buy another one if you wrinkle it beyond repair. Since my father cut off my allowance, I have to be careful with what I've got."

"That's what magic is for, Draco," Harry pointed out, rolling his eyes, but he pushed Draco off and obediently turned over onto his stomach to attempt to stuff his arm down in the narrow space between Draco's headboard and the wall.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" Harry asked, most of his attention on the task at hand. He could almost reach the shirt. His fingertips were brushing against the fabric.

"What's that?"

"What's what?" he replied, still only half listening. He snatched at the shirt one last time, and managed to snag it. Then Draco brushed his fingers along the small of his back, and that would get Harry's attention at any time. He levered himself up on one elbow, bringing the shirt with him, and twisted around to look at Draco. It took a moment before he realized what Draco was asking about. "Oh, it's a phoenix," he said when Draco touched his back again.

"Well, I see that, Smart One," Draco said impatiently, "but why is it on your back?"

"It's a tattoo." Before Draco could ask, Harry explained. "It's a Muggle custom where they use needles and ink to poke a permanent picture into your skin."

Draco looked at him, shocked. "Are you serious?" Harry smiled and nodded. "I knew Muggles were barbaric, but my god. You used a anesthetic spell or something, right?"

Harry shook his head this time. "No. I decided that if I did it, I'd do it the Muggle way. So no magic." He paused, then added, "Well, I had to use magic to get in the door—you have to be eighteen to get a tattoo." He grinned. "Thankfully tattoo parlors don't have Age Lines."

"You're crazy. Why would you want to do something like that?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I just felt like it. Maybe it was a rebellious thing. I had no trouble choosing a design, though. I knew right away what I wanted, so I owled Ginny. She's an amazing artist, if you didn't know. I explained what I wanted and she sent that picture back to me. It was perfect. I took it with me and showed it the tattoo artist and she did a great job. I love it."

"Why did you want a phoenix?"

"The phoenix symbolizes hope for me. When I was in the Chamber of Secrets at the end of our second year the situation was looking pretty hopeless. It was just me and the basilisk, and honestly, the enormous snake with the turn-you-to-stone eyes had a bit of an advantage. But just when all seemed lost Fawkes appeared and gave me the Sorting Hat, which in turn gave me Gryffindor's sword. I managed to kill it with the sword, but it ended up poisoning me before it died. Once again, it seemed like I was doomed but, thankfully, Fawkes saved the day again by healing my wound. Because of that, the phoenix reminds me that there is always hope, even in the darkest times."

"Wow. Who is Fawkes?"

"Dumbledore's phoenix."

"Ah, I should have guessed that. I've been in his office enough that I should have learned that bloody bird's name by now. Whenever I tried to give Dumbledore grief when he was lecturing me, the bird would glare at me like I was making it angry be insulting Dumbledore. It was creepy." Harry said nothing. "I can't believe that you and I have been dating for at least a month now, and I have never known that you have a giant picture of a phoenix and a sun across your back."

"I guess you've never seen me shirtless from the back before." Harry's smile turned sly. "You seem more preoccupied with the front most of the time."

Draco laughed. "You're probably right." He eyed Harry, noticing that he had become quiet all of a sudden. "What's up?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Oh, nothing."

Draco raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I know you better than that by now," he said quietly.

Harry sighed. "That's the problem," he muttered, almost too quiet to hear. He sat up and leaned back against the cool wood of the headboard and studied Draco for a moment, biting his bottom lip slightly. Draco waited tensely. He didn't want to rush him, but he had a feeling he wasn't going to like what Harry wanted to tell him.

Finally, before he could lose his nerve, Harry blurted, "There's something you should know about me."

Draco relaxed a little, figuring that any dark secret that the Golden Boy might have would be better than what had been afraid he was going to hear.

After a short hesitation, Harry continued, refusing to meet Draco's concerned eyes. "A relationship with me should probably come with an insurance waver," he said, trying to make a joke out of it. Draco stayed silent, but Harry wasn't sure whether it was because he didn't find it funny, or because he had no idea what insurance was in the first place. "It could be... dangerous... being my boyfriend. In fact, I'm definitely sure it will be dangerous."

"Why do you say that?" Draco asked, confused. Harry gave him a Look. "Are you referring to You-Know-Who?" Harry's silence was Draco's conformation. "So what if you possibly could have been the reason for his disappearance? That was sixteen years ago. And yes, you might have caused problems for him here and there, but obviously not enough to prevent him from rising to power again. Dumbledore's caused him more grief over the years and he's still alive. Hell, I betrayed You-Know-Who and got five of his junior Death Eaters sent to Azkaban. That's nearly his entire Hogwarts battalion! I'm probably much higher on his hit list than you are."

Harry shook his head. "There's more to it than that. I'm going to have to fight him eventually. He's afraid of me, which puts anyone I care about in jeopardy," he said, thinking about what happened to Fawkes.

Draco simply snorted. "You-Know-Who's afraid of you? No offense Harry, but that sounds rather pretentious to me. You're a good wizard and all, but why in hell would the Dark Lord fear a seventeen-year-old boy?"

Harry turned away again and whispered, "Because of the prophecy."

That got Draco's attention. "What? You mean, the other year at the Ministry you actually found a prophesy?"

"Yes, but it broke before I could read it."

"Then how—" Draco began, but Harry cut him off.

"Dumbledore knew the Prophesy all along. He was there when it was made. It says that I have the power to kill Voldemort, but that one of us will die. It could be him... or it could be me." Silence fell as Draco sat, stunned.

"Really?" he finally whispered. Harry nodded. "My God, Harry. How the hell can they ask that of you?"

Harry shrugged. "I've asked the same thing myself and never gotten an answer. They all seem to expect me to be able to do the impossible." The old anger and hurt rose to the surface again and he rested his forehead on his bent knees, trying to hide his emotions.

"Oh, baby," Draco murmured quietly, seeing the inner conflict in his boyfriend. "I wish that I could help somehow."

Harry raised his head fractionally. "You already are," he whispered hoarsely.

Draco gave him a puzzled look. "How?"

"There was one last line to the prophecy. It said that in order to win, I must love someone. I don't know if Voldemort knows this part of it or not—I didn't know about it until just this year—but if he does, you're in a lot of danger."

Draco sat, stunned again. "Harry, did you just say that you loved me?"

Harry blushed crimson. "Sort of. I guess. Yes."

"Wow," was all Draco said before falling silent, emotions swirling.

"You did hear the part where you'll be in danger, right?
"Yes, I heard," Draco said quietly. "Though I'm probably in so much trouble with You-Know-Who already, it doesn't make much of a difference. He'll want me dead either way."

"I guess, but if you get killed while being my boyfriend, I'll never forgive myself," he said, then shocked them both by bursting into tears.

"Shh," Draco whispered, trying to comfort him. "It's all right, Harry. We'll figure something out." He murmured incoherent reassurances until he felt Harry's tense muscles relax and his breathing even. He moved the covers, gently laid Harry down, and tucked him into his bed.

What the hell was he going to do?