Author's Note: Hello everyone! I've been meaning to get back to this story for some time now, but hadn't been able to for reasons I will explain briefly. I had originally had huge plans for this fic. It was going to be a grand, sweeping story about dragon shifters who had their own secret society within the Wizarding World that Harry and Draco would be a part of. I quickly realized that this was a bit over my head, but couldn't figure out how to dial it down into a manageable story that was still faithful to what I had already written as well as the general fire/ice idea I'd had. After a few months I had a breakthrough, but still took a little more time to A. get back in the writing groove and B. get the details in order so that I could do my story justice. Now I'm back in it, and I'm looking forward to telling this story that, while different from my original idea, I still feel like is a good, wholesome Drarry story.

That being said, I would still like to profusely apologize for my absence. As a fanfiction reader myself, I know how frustrating it is when an author seemingly disappears without a trace, leaving a story unfinished and their readers unfulfilled. I am very sorry for putting anyone through that, when you all have been so amazing and so lovely. I have always and will always appreciate the support you guys have given, which was way, way more than I had expected when I started actually publishing these little ideas of mine. My plans as of right now are to finish this fic and then start working on smaller stories while I also work on larger (but doable) ones. I cannot promise a regular update schedule, as I no longer have chapters pre-written, but I will try to do better.

Normal disclaimer about not owning Harry Potter and not receiving money for a fanfic (is that a thing?) applies.

Without further ado, here is the long-awaited Chapter 14.

Chapter 14: You Say Planning, I Say Plotting

Harry sat in his room, staring out the window. It was yet again raining, though it was a light drizzle that would only last a day. He had a book of offensive spells laying open on his lap, but he wasn't reading. He was staring out at the street, watching people as they passed by. He felt a bit like the Hunchback of Notre Dame in that moment, so much so that he began to hum 'Out There'. The weather and his listless activity allowed his thoughts to drift and settle.

After those revelations, he and Draco had backed off of serious subjects. They both needed to assimilate to their new view of each other, or rather their reinforced view. They had chatted about this and that for a while, then parted easily. Draco had mentioned writing to his mother, which was allowed due to their being family, although the guard at Azkaban would read the letter before handing it over. Whether Draco had any plans to talk to his father he hadn't said, and Harry was not curious or cruel enough to ask. He wouldn't blame Draco if he never spoke to Lucius again.

Prompted from their discussion, Harry wondered what Draco's childhood had been like. He imagined, as he had upon meeting Draco for the first time, that it was similar to Dudley's. Although many would (and had) envied Draco his privileged life, Harry had seen first-hand how destructive it could be. Dudley had been a right prat his entire life, thanks to the encouraged belief that he was better than everyone. It took an attack from a Dementor for him to become a decent human being. He believed Draco had been told something similar growing up, although he surmised that there would be pureblood ideation behind it rather than simple prejudice. Harry was sure that although his experience with the Dursleys gave him more insight than most, he did not truly understand the hardships Draco had faced. He wasn't sure, even if Draco explained everything in minute detail, that he ever would.

His thoughts wandered to Draco's assessment of his choices and the power therein, of the situation he currently found himself in in regards to Lippershey. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, noting the time before resuming his people watching. It was almost ten o' clock. He had an hour to figure out what to do. He supposed it came down simply to two questions: was going worth the risk of potentially putting everyone in danger, not mention going against the new Minister? Although he hadn't analyzed that part yet, he knew he should. Dingleberry didn't seem the type to take this king of slight lightly. Also, Arthur's warning from what seemed to be a lifetime ago still held true. Harry had bested the Ministry, had made a fool of them both in Voldemort's return and his defeat. Even at the party it had been evident, though he had been too busy focusing on Draco to truly note it at the time. How many eyes had followed him in anger, in jealousy, in cold-hearted malice? How many times in the past had he met an Auror, only to have that person spew insults at him? It was far from the majority, but Harry was not a naive fool anymore. Whether their opinions mattered to him personally, which they sometimes did, they mattered to his safety. An Auror who sought revenge for being upstaged by a mere boy could be just as deadly as a Death Eater. And it wasn't only the Aurors, although they were the ones Harry saw most often. In every branch of the Ministry there were those who would whisper about him, and although it was a rare occurrence of juvenile behavior, it still affected Harry to still be the target of such negative emotion. He could only imagine how difficult life would be if the Minister decided to go against him, and his life would be an absolute nightmare if he did so publicly.

The second question was whether he, as a man with morals and responsibilities, could afford not to go. Like it or not, he was in a position of power. Until the legend died down to obscurity, something which might not happen in his lifetime, he always would have power of some kind. Although it unnerved and displeased him, he needed to be realistic and put others first. This information, whatever it was, was important enough that Dingleberry didn't want him to have it. At least, that was Harry's interpretation. It was equally likely that Lippershey was crazy and Dingleberry was protecting him, but Harry's (in)famous gut feeling said the information, whatever it was, was legitimate, and that Dingleberry's motivation was primarily fear. Under this assumption, could Harry, in good conscience, refuse? Could he stand idly by while a threat may be lurking in their midst?

No. No, he could not. He realized, with a heavy sigh, that this was never truly in question. He would always have gone, if only because his conscience wouldn't let him do otherwise. He had simply not wanted to. He had wanted to stay in this house, with Draco, and live as close to a peaceful life as he could manage. The very thought was like a siren's song, and Harry groaned out loud as he realized that peace and home were only part of the equation. The draw, the enticement, was Draco. And wasn't that a scary thought?

Harry reluctantly got up. He shoved thoughts of how enticing Draco was away. He needed Draco's opinion, his advice on how to proceed. Harry, as Draco had so helpfully pointed out, was no strategist. Harry was a Point, a front-runner. He sped ahead and achieved the goal, and left the planning and plotting to others. He realized now how near-sighted that was, and how trusting. He would need to start being able to make truly well-thought decisions. Power in the hands of a fool was like playing Russian roulette. Sooner or later, someone would get hurt, and there was no telling who it would be. And although he couldn't imagine saying it even a few months before, he could think of no one better to learn from than his own personal jailbird.

He made his way to Draco's door, but as he raised his fist to knock he felt an unexpected hesitation. He was reluctant to knock, and he couldn't figure out why. He knew he looked like an idiot, standing outside the door, fist raised but not knocking. He just...couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't until he felt a familiar twist in his stomach that the truth dawned on him.

Surely, I'm not...nervous? What nonsense!

But his body told the tale, refusing to budge despite having no reason not to. He was about to go back to his room and seriously question his sanity when the door opened. Draco and he stared at each other several moments, neither knowing what to say. Finally Draco broke the string contest, pointedly looking at Harry's raised hand with an inquiring brow raised. Harry quickly lowered his hand to his side, flushing with embarrassment.

"Hi." Harry said, his voice high. He cleared his throat. "I was, um...coming to see you."

Draco visibly regained his equilibrium, leaning against the door frame with a smirk. "Oh, really?"

"Yes." Harry said. He refused to acknowledge Draco's interpretation, or how it made him feel. "I need your advice."

Draco's smirked intensified. "A lot of lube, start small, and take your time."

Harry had thought he knew where this conversation was going, but now he had no idea. "Um...what?"

Draco's seductive pose broke as he seemed surprised by something. "Do you really...? How could you not...?" He did something Harry had never seen cool, calm, composed Draco do before. He facepalmed. "Oh, Merlin. We really will need to take this slow."

Harry flushed. "There is no this. This is not a thing."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Sure. What did you actually want to ask about?"

"Lippershey." Harry said. "I've decided that I'm going to go, but I don't want to do it half-cocked. If I'm going to do this, whatever this is, I want to do it right. No more martyring."

Draco said nothing for several moments. His gaze went over Harry, assessing. This time, however, Harry did not feel as though Draco were undressing him with his eyes. Instead, Draco seemed to be looking at him, right through to his soul. He nodded softly, obviously approving of what he saw. He seemed very thoughtful as well.

"I see." Draco said. He stepped back into his own room. Harry followed, shutting the door behind him out of habit. Draco went to sit at his desk, and Harry sat nearby on the bed. If he had sat a little closer, their knees would have been touching. He shifted unconsciously at the thought, but focused as Draco began to speak.

"Well, more than anything you should be prepared for Lippershey to ambush you. As a Ministry ex-employee, he is going to have resources regardless of which department he was from. Obviously, you'll take your wand with you everywhere, but the Antidote to Common Poisons and a Blood Replenishing Potion would not go amiss. Since we don't know which department he was part of, you might also take the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons as well."

Draco stopped and looked at Harry to get his input. Harry's response was to blink.

"Um, I suppose I could pick some up before I go."

"Before we go," Draco corrected. "Which brings me to my next point. Safety in numbers. He clearly expects you to come alone, so that is absolutely the last thing you should do."

Harry nodded. "Makes sense. But what if he insists on talking to only me?"

Draco shrugged. "You have the advantage, use it. Whatever he wants to tell you, it was important enough to reach out to you personally, and to risk being detected by the Ministry. He clearly wants, maybe needs, to tell you whatever it is."

"So I can make him tell both of us by threatening not to listen." Harry surmised.

Draco's eyes gleamed. He was glad that Harry was already showing promise as a strategist. He hastily reminded himself that it was early days yet, plenty of time for Harry's Gryffindor nature to come back to bite him. "Exactly."

Harry grinned at Draco's expression, but became confused when Draco walked over to his dresser and began rooting around in it. He laughed as a familiar pentagon came flying towards his head. Draco smiled in response as he retook his seat.

"Cheers." He said before biting the head off the Chocolate Frog.

Draco grimaced. "You're barbaric."

Harry shrugged. "Kids always bite the heads off animal crackers before eating the body."

"Charming." Draco deadpanned. "The last thing I'll mention, since home field advantage won't be possible, is secrecy. The Minister sticking his nose in this is not good news, even if he is a nitwit. You don't become Minister by being a good little choir boy. Unless, of course, you half-murder a serial killer when you're a baby."

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't comment, much to Draco's disappointment. He continued, "That means that, despite his questionable intelligence and abysmal fashion sense, he has to have some sort of ability to play the game. Whether that's greasing the right hands, stabbing the right people in the back, or otherwise unsavory method remains to be seen. You have to play into the role he assigns you. He showed his hand at the party, though I doubt he realizes it. He wants you to be the political equivalent of a trophy wife. A thoughtless, brainless celebrity whose name and fame he can play on. As such, he won't want to believe that you two are on different sides of anything. He's going to give you an out. Take it. You'll probably have to suffer some embarrassment, but you must do so. Better a little humiliation now than a lot of pain later."

Harry shook his head, amazed at how quickly things had gotten complicated. "Okay. Um, I think I can do that. Maybe."

Draco smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'll be with you. But just in case I can't be, I'll train you on what to do." He reached out hesitantly, pausing before putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. He looked him in the eyes to ensure Harry knew what he was about to say, he meant. "I think you're selling yourself short. You can be brilliant, in your own way. You've just never had to try before, because you had others to fall back on. Ron, who could strategize for you if need be and who encouraged you to let things lie. More than that, though, I think you let Hermione be the brains and never stopped to think that you could use your own instead."

Harry was embarrassed at having been caught out about his lackluster efforts. "I know, I thought of that not long after the final battle. Hindsight and all that."

Draco nodded, then patted his shoulder before taking his hand back. Harry almost reached up, his skin feeling cool now that Draco's warmth had been rescinded. Luckily, he caught himself.

"So," Harry said, standing. "Shall we go to Slug and Jiggers?"

Draco stood as well, smoothing out the folds in his clothing. "I suppose. It's probably about time to leave."

Harry looked at his watch. "Actually, it's only just past ten. So if there's something you need to take care of, I can wait."

Harry looked up and froze. Draco's expression had changed drastically, going from easy acceptance to predatory. He gulped without meaning to, and the feline grin on Draco's face only widened in response.

"There is something that has been nagging at me for a while, now that you mention it." Draco said. He moved toward Harry, who took a step backward. He had forgotten that he had been standing just to the side of the bed, and the backs of his legs immediately hit it. Had he not had such good balance, he would've plopped backwards onto it. Draco, however, did not stop. He stepped forward again, his foot between Harry's. He leaned forward so that their torsos met, then their hips, then their legs. They were pressed together, calf to collarbone. Harry tried to remain standing, but Draco kept leaning forward, bending him backwards. He finally landed back on the bed, but had no time to recover before Draco was there, above him. He was leaning on his elbows, which were on either side of Harry's head. Although he expected Draco to swoop in and steal a kiss, he was surprised as Draco did nothing. Actually, that wasn't strictly true. Draco was looking down at him, his eyes roving his face. It honestly made Harry uncomfortable, and he fought not to squirm. It felt different than the other times Draco had looked at him, really looked at him. This time, as Draco looked at his features as though he meant to memorize them, Harry felt...treasured.

After several moments of this, Harry couldn't take it anymore. Gathering his courage, he leaned up and connected their mouths. His inexperience and the unusual height difference made it a bit awkward at first, but it was worth it to see Draco's eyes go wide. Soon though, they closed, and Harry's did the same as they both sank into the kiss. It started as just the lips, Draco seeming to understand that Harry wanted to take his time. That first initial movement had been rougher than he'd intended, and he'd softened it considerably. There was hardly any movement between them, just lips moving against each other and each man getting acquainted. Although Harry hadn't realized it yet, he was tuning in to Draco's preferences. What he liked, what he responded to, what made him break that cool reserve. Not that Draco was stoic, but Harry was a man of fire and passion, and he was determined to draw out a response.

Draco was the one to part their kiss, after who knew how long. Although he said nothing, he was profoundly affected. Not because Harry had outstanding talent, he had a lot to learn about the art of kissing, and sex in general, but because it had been the sweetest thing he'd ever experienced. Although he did have experience and was not a virgin, those affairs had been about physical satisfaction and paltry high school romance. Nothing substantial. Nothing real, though he would have declared it so at the time. This was different. Harry was different.

He hadn't truly wanted to end the kiss, but he'd wanted to see what Harry would do next. Harry whined at him and tried to kiss him again, and Draco let him, but only for a moment. Then he was pulling away again, and this time Harry growled. He lent up and gently use his teeth to capture Draco's lower lip. Their eyes had opened when Draco had pulled away the first time, so Harry got to see Draco's pupils expand when he did that last. He smiled in response and, intoxicated by Draco's presence and his own hormones, he darted his tongue out and licked.

Draco gasped, the nerve endings in his lip lighting up. He'd always had sensitive lips, and having them toyed with was a major button-pusher for him. When Harry pressed down gently with his teeth, biting softly at Draco's lip, he lost himself in the lustful haze. He had wanted Harry to be the initiator, but at the innocently teasing actions he lost that resolve. He reconnected their mouths, but urged Harry to open his. He did so, and moaned as Draco's tongue plundered his mouth, caressing each dip and curve as if he meant to claim it. Harry was more hesitant, despite having done this before with Ginny. For some reason, this felt different, though he couldn't put his finger on why. Then Draco did a particular trick with his tongue, and Harry's eyes closed on an ecstatic sigh. He lost himself in the way their tongues danced, and ceased to think. He didn't even realize that his hands had moved of their own accord, finding purchase on Draco's back and pulling him closer. Harry was riding a wave of arousal and he could only go along for a ride.

It was many minutes later when Draco lifted his head again, their mouths separating with a filthy pop. His eyes were swallowed in black, with only a thin ring of grey. Harry's were the same, a small ring of jewel-green grass surrounding a black pool. Draco lost himself in Harry's eyes, only remembering why he had stopped when Harry tried to pull him in again, one hand in his hair and one on the small of his back, pressing them together. He wasn't sure if it was a conscious movement or not, but Draco appreciated it either way. He felt himself being drawn back in and had to stand up completely or else be lost in the erotic wonders of Harry Potter once again.

He had turned away from the bed, taking deep breaths and counting to ten in order to regain control. When he thought he had composed himself, he turned around. He groaned at the sight that met him.

Harry hadn't moved at all, except to lift himself onto his elbows so that he could see Draco. He was splayed on the bed, his legs spread just enough and there was a distinctive bulge to show that Harry's body was still very interested. Draco actually salivated at seeing it, but resolutely trained his gaze on Harry's face. It didn't help much. Harry was the picture of dishevelment, his lips swollen and dark pink from use, his hair just a bit more messy than usual, his eyes still dilated. But more than that, it was the look on his face. Harry looked wrecked, in the best way possible.

"Get up." Draco said, his voice low and hoarse from his still-present arousal.

Harry obeyed, reluctantly. He had clearly forgotten everything except him, Draco, and a bed. Draco wasn't surprised, really. The reason most adults treated sex as so blasé was because they had fucked it out of their systems as teenagers. It was old hat. Draco hadn't reached that point, but he was struck with the realization that even if he had grown completely bored with sex and saw it as a been-there-done-that kind of thing, he would still react this way to Harry. It was not the most comfortable of revelations, although it was hardly enough to cow him. He watched as Harry straightened his appearance a bit, though anyone who saw him would know he had had some form of intimacy. Draco grabbed another Chocolate Frog while Harry was distracted and walked over to him. The effect was instantaneous. Harry's eyes fixed on him, from looking at his face to watching his long legs as he approached. Had this been at Hogwarts, Draco would've reveled in the attention and taken what seemed to be on offer. Now, Draco let a shiver course through him but otherwise stayed resolute.

"Go to your room. Clean yourself up. You have..." Draco paused, grabbing Harry's wrist and lifting it so he could see the little clock he wore there. "Thirty minutes before we beard the lion in his den."

Harry blinked confusedly and with slight betrayal at his clock, as if it had Stupefied him. It was quite possibly the cutest thing Draco had ever seen. He gently placed the Chocolate Frog in Harry's hand before gently tugging it downward and releasing it. Harry was still looking at him, and Draco compulsively leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before whispering in his ear,

"Go. While I can still convince myself to let you."

For a moment, one mad, wonderful moment, it seemed like Harry would stay. But he drew back, nodded to Draco that he understood, and slowly left the room. The door closed with a click, and Draco collapsed onto his bed with a heavy sigh. As always, Harry had his insides in knots and his thoughts in a tumble.

"Sweet Merlin, what am I doing?"