"Oi, Wood! Flint!" Harry called as he entered the guard barracks. Both men jumped up off their bunks and snapped to attention.
"Yes sir!" They smirked as Harry rolled his eyes, still finding it weird that people older than him responded so quickly.
"The Lord has me babysitting while Slytherin is here, starting tonight," he explained. "I'm moving you two off your duty rosters." Harry turned to his second-in-command first, a tall, broad-shouldered man of twenty-two. "Wood, I'm assigning you to Lord Malfoy. Shadow him in any meetings and assemblies. You're in charge of the roster for manor guards as well."
"Yes, Captain," Wood nodded.
Harry turned to Flint. Marcus Flint was a year older than Oliver Wood, wide where Wood was lean, and absolutely vicious in hand-to-hand combat, though not among the most magically powerful of the guard. "Flint, you're taking over patrols and any trips they take outside the inner village. With Wood acting as captain, you'll be his second. If anything happens, beyond the usual sick or hungover man, come to me. Got it?"
They both nodded and gave him shallow bows.
"Good luck with the little Lord!" Flint called teasingly as Harry left the barracks. Harry flipped him off without turning around and heard Wood and Flint burst into laughter.
Harry walked quickly through the manor to Severus' rooms, careful not to shut his cloak in the door as he closed it behind him. He hadn't lived with Severus since he became captain, but he still took lessons on his free evenings. Knowing he couldn't visit his old friend and father figure while Slytherin was visiting, he wanted to collect some books and scrolls Severus had him reading.
"One last visit?" Severus asked, looking up from his books as Harry entered. He immediately conjured a flame to heat the kettle.
"You've heard, then," Harry surmised, taking off his cloak and sword belt and sitting in his old place at the scoured wooden table.
"Of course I have," Severus scoffed. "Lucius asked my opinion on the idea to begin with."
"Then what on earth does he need all those advisors for?" Harry asked with a smirk. "Yeah, I'm not to leave his Lordship's side until Slytherin's gone, and that's at least a fortnight from now. Starting tonight."
"I suppose you'll want your books, then," Severus murmured, and Harry nodded, taking the tea offered to him. "I expect you to keep up with your studies as much as you can, then."
"Of course, Sev," Harry laughed, used to his old tutor's high expectations. "Brewed anything complicated lately?" He sipped his tea with a fond smile as the physician launched into a monologue on the bone-mending potion he had finally perfected.
-0-
"Father, this is absurd!" Draco cried, throwing himself down on his sofa. "I don't need some old soldier to babysit me!"
"Draco, do not whine," Lucius scolded. "Slytherin has only gained support by threatening noble heirs. Nott's son, Theodore, ended up on his deathbed when Nott refused his support and was suddenly healthy again when Nott changed his mind. The same thing happened to Avery's son and Parkinson's daughter. You will be protected at all times."
Recognising the flat tone of finality in his father's voice, Draco sighed in defeat. "Fine. And which cranky old veteran will I have the pleasure of living with?"
"I believe that would be me," a deep voice said from the door.
Draco eyes snapped open to fix on Captain Potter, of the untameable raven hair, looking as young and fit as usual in the navy uniform that clung to him the way Draco wished some of his tailored clothes would. Broad shoulders tapered down to a trim waist, emphasised by the sword belt cinched above his hips. Cream trousers that did nothing to hide the sturdy muscles of his legs were tucked into slightly worn but well-polished leather boots. Potter had a canvas rucksack tossed across his back, his royal blue captain's cloak tucked in the crook of his arm rather than clasped over his shoulders.
"Do I pass inspection, my Lord?" Potter asked. Draco looked up at dancing green eyes that had definitely noticed the full-body scan Draco had just given him. He flushed, embarrassed.
"I suppose I can deal with the situation, if it's to be the captain of the guard," Draco drawled, and he saw Lucius supress an eye roll.
"This way, Captain Potter." Lucius gestured to the small room off the private sitting room, meant for a valet or manservant. "Your room connects here and to Draco's bedchamber. It isn't very big, I'm afraid."
Potter chuckled. "It can't be any smaller than the room in Severus' quarters," he said good-naturedly, putting his bag on the bed and hanging his cloak up on the hook by the door. "I had to sleep diagonally after my last growth spurt!"
Lucius laughed and slapped Potter on the shoulder in a fatherly fashion. Draco gritted his teeth. Who did Potter think he was, sauntering in and acting all familiar with his Lord? He had never seen the guardsman act this way before, and it puzzled Draco.
"I will sleep well at night, knowing my only son is so well protected," Lucius said, and Potter's ears went red. "Who will take your place?"
Potter's whole demeanour changed as the talk turned to business, becoming serious and deferential. His back straightened and the humour slipped from his face. "Wood, my second, will be in charge of your safety, my Lord, and Marcus Flint will lead patrols and any excursions your party wishes to take."
Lucius nodded in approval. "I will leave you to unpack, then."
Potter bowed, fist over his heart, as he left. As soon as Lucius was gone, he straightened up and fixed Draco with a flat look. "Let's get this straight right now," he said, sounding so much like Severus that Draco flinched. "You do not go anywhere without me. I don't care if you want to go out at midnight to a Low Town brothel, you take me with you. I'm not here to report on your actions to your father, I'm here to keep you safe, and that is exactly what I intend to do. Understand?"
"You would do well to remember your place, Captain Potter," Draco said tightly.
Potter blanked his face, hiding his emotions before Draco could even guess at his reaction, and bowed with his fist over his heart. Draco was impressed.
"Feel free to settle in, Potter," he said, settling back on the sofa and drawing the nearest book towards him. "I have no intentions of going anywhere this evening."
He could barely hear Potter's soft tread, somehow nearly silent despite the sturdy boots, as he moved around his room. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the captain fold his clothes meticulously and tuck them away in the small chest. He was surprised when Potter set out a couple books on the little table, along with a quill, ink, and a large scroll of parchment. Apparently completely unpacked, Potter selected one of the slimmer tomes and came out the sitting room to sit against the wall by the fire, of all places.
"I wasn't aware guardsmen could read," Draco quipped as Potter settled his sword comfortably against his side and leg.
"A guardsman is not the same as a common foot soldier," Potter murmured. "Everyone in my guard can read and write. I'm almost as educated as you are, but I'm an unusual case."
Draco reeled, dumbfounded by the way Potter had cut straight to the heart of his stereotyping. As a noble, Draco did view all fighting people as the same. He thought of the guard as dumb, vulgar, bloodthirsty men, just like the villagers that joined up when an army was called for.
"I highly doubt that," he scoffed. Sarcasm was a defensive reaction for him. Potter just raised his book, showing Draco the subject matter. Even Draco didn't know anything about wards and defensive magic based in blood, and here Potter was, reading about it casually to pass the time!
Feeling suddenly inadequate, Draco shut his novel with a snap and stomped off toward his bedchamber, slamming the door behind him.
-0-
Harry raked a hand through his hand, trying fruitlessly to get it to lay flat, as he waited for Draco to finish dressing. The noble fiddled with his tunic for ages, then spent another age picking out robes, before he finally declared himself done and dismissed his poor, put-upon servant. Harry felt bad for him, a man their age named Seamus. They were friendly with each other, and Harry used to have easy conversations with him in the kitchens before he became captain.
"Ready?" Draco sniffed, as though Harry was the one holding them up. Harry held in a sigh as he followed the noble into the hall, his blue cloak sweeping out behind him.
As they approached the yard, where the greeting party was assembled, Harry laid his left hand lightly on the pommel of his sword and subtly adjusted the wand holster strapped to the same forearm. All guardsmen who could use a wand trained to cast left-handed, since the held their swords in their right.
Taking his place behind Draco, Harry cast a quick look over at Wood, standing behind the Lord, and Evan Pucey, the Lady's personal guard. His younger brother, Adrian, was one of Harry's patrol leaders in the outer village.
At Harry's suggestion, all three personal guards wore long cloaks for the duration of Lord Slytherin's stay. Lord Malfoy had agreed that it would make Draco's protection far less obvious. Harry kept his bright blue cloak, while Wood had one the same colour as the navy guard tunic and Pucey's was a few shades lighter than Harry's, though not quite reaching the pale blue Malfoy family colour.
The distant sound of clacking horseshoes, jangling harnesses and rattling carriage wheels alerted Harry to the nearness of the oncoming visitors. He waited half a minute before the tower guards called the alert. "Party arriving!"
"Attention," Harry said sharply, his voice carrying through the yard, and every guardsman tightened up his stance, standing ramrod straight.
Slytherin's carriage was emerald green with silver accents and his crest, two intertwined snakes, on the door. His guard wore all black and his servants were dressed in dark grey. The Lord himself had on deep green robes, stark against his pale skin. All his pale skin, since he was completely bald.
"Lord Slytherin," Malfoy greeted, stepping forward and holding out his hand.
"Lord Malfoy," Slytherin replied, taking it. Three more people stepped from the carriage behind him, two men who were clearly brothers and a woman with dark, curly hair left free. "My companions and trusted friends, Lord Rodolphus Lestrange and his younger brother, Rabastan. Lord Lestrange's wife has joined us as well, but I believe your Lady wife is already familiar with her."
"Hello, Narcissa," Lady Lestrange called.
"Bellatrix," Lady Malfoy replied, her voice faintly tight. "It has been a while, hasn't it, sister?"
Harry heard Draco gasp, but he carefully kept his face blank. The guard had no business being anything but stoic while on duty.
"I'm sure your ride has been long and uncomfortable," Malfoy said, gesturing to the manor. "Shall we go inside, and you all can retire to your rooms to rest."
A black-clothed guard dismounted and stepped forward. "Walden Macnair, the captain of my guard," Slytherin introduced carelessly.
Harry shot Flint a look, and he stepped forward. "Marcus Flint. I'll show you where you and your men will be staying." Macnair glared, his gaze sweeping across the trio behind the Malfoys. Harry could tell he was angry at not being met by the captain and maybe not being able to tell who the captain was, and Harry was relieved that his ideas seemed to be working.
As he followed Draco into the hall, Harry gave a short nod. Every guard around the yard relaxed into a resting stance.
-0-
Draco had been bored at the welcoming banquet and probably drank too much wine. That would explain why his bed seemed to keep sliding away as he stepped closer. Frustrated, Draco tried to jump onto it, only to crash to the stone floor in a painful heap.
"What in the name of magic are you doing in here?" Potter scolded sharply, coming through the door between their rooms. Draco looked up at him pitifully from his upside-down position on the floor.
Potter must have been getting ready for bed. He was barefoot and shirtless, dressed only in his cream-coloured trousers that were slipping down his hips without a belt. He set the short sword he was carrying down and proceeded to heave Draco up. Draco's body was not cooperating and he flopped in Potter's grasp, giving him a close view of a rearing lion inked onto the captain's side that Draco had certainly not expected to be there.
Then Potter heaved again, and Draco found himself cradled against a warm, solid chest. Protesting the sudden change in position, he pressed his face against the bare skin over Potter's heart, surrounded by the steady beat and Potter's clean smell, faintly tinged with dried potions ingredients.
Potter balanced Draco in one arm to pull back the covers, a surprisingly casual display of strength that would make Draco a liar if he said it wasn't a little arousing, even in his intoxicated state. Instead of dumping him, the captain settled him down carefully and all but tucked him in.
"Don't get up again," he snapped, picking up his sword again and closing the door behind him. In the sudden darkness, Draco drifted off to dreams of strong arms, green eyes, and lion tattoos.
His mouth tasted disgusted when he woke to Seamus flinging open his curtains. He groaned and curled up, trying to hide from the light.
"Rise and shine, my Lord," Seamus chirped. "Your father has requested you attend this morning's meeting."
"Mm," Draco grumbled. "Is Potter up yet?"
"Potter wakes at dawn and has been waiting an hour for breakfast," the captain called from his room, opening the door. He leaned against the frame, fully dressed and already armed with his cloak over his arm.
"Shut up, Potter," Draco grunted, rolling out of bed. "Seamus, I want the black tunic."
"And would you like the white, tan, or blue trousers?" the servant replied seamlessly. Draco picked the pale Malfoy blue leggings, feeling vaguely uncomfortable as Potter watched him dress.
"Something interesting, Potter?" he snapped as Seamus did up his belt and boots.
"This is all very civilised." Potter smirked. "You ought to see mornings in the barracks. There isn't enough light in the winter, and there's lots of stumbling around and cursing."
"How very uncouth," Draco sneered.
"We don't all have choices in our clothing, my Lord," Potter replied, laying emphasis on the title, and Draco flushed.
"Is my breakfast ready?" Draco changed the subject, turning to his servant.
"Yes, my Lord." Seamus finished buckling his knife to his belt and stepped back. It was a hunting knife, but Draco only ever used it at the table. "Captain Potter, the kitchen sent up the usual guard's fare for you. If you want something else, I can-"
"That's fine, Seamus." Potter quirked a grin at the servant that made Draco's chest thump. "I've eaten guard's fare for thirteen years. No reason to change now."
-0-
Harry could think of few things worse than dealing with a bored, half-way drunk young nobleman. Being dragged behind a pair of horses, maybe, or repeatedly stabbed in the eyes. But this was definitely up there.
Not to mention Harry wanted to stab himself in the eyes sometimes.
"Captain Potter!" Draco called, downing another glass of wine. "Come sit down!" Harry sighed and pressed he heel of his hand against his forehead, but he couldn't ignore a reasonable order from his Lord. "No!" Draco said, pausing Harry in the middle of trying to sit in the chair opposite Draco's. "Here."
He pointed to the rug on the floor in front of his chair. Harry raised an eyebrow, and Draco just pointed more emphatically. Harry sat.
"You're so serious," Draco muttered. "All the time." He tugged clumsily on Harry's shoulders until he leaned back against the chair. "What's your first name, Potter?"
"Harry, my Lord."
"Harry," Draco repeated softly. He buried his hand in Harry's dark hair. Harry tensed at the sudden contact, then relaxed despite himself as Draco nails scratched lightly across his scalp. "I can't figure you out, Harry Potter."
"I wasn't aware I was so interesting, my Lord."
"Well, you are." Harry let the young noble tilt his head back and run his fingers through his fringe. "Tell me about yourself, Harry."
Harry frowned. "What do you want to know, my Lord?"
Draco sighed heavily. One of his legs slipped off the armrest and landed across Harry's shoulder, warm and heavy. "I don't know, anything! Where are you from? How did you end up here?"
Harry shifted awkwardly, trying to keep from leaning his head against Draco's leg. "I lived in a small village in southern Wiltshire until I was three, my Lord. My mother died in the last plague outbreak, and my Aunt sold me into slavery two years later." Draco's hand tensed in his hair. "My Lord bought me then, and I ended up here. No one knew my father's name until I was five, when Remus Lupin showed up."
"Lupin, the archivist?"
"Yes, my Lord."
Draco's hand slipped down the side of his face. "Go on."
Harry swallowed hard as slim fingers brushed over his lips. "I'm the bastard son of the last Lord Potter. My father was a minor Lord of Dorset who also died in the plague. My Lord pretty much freed me when he found out, and I was raised to be part of the guard instead."
"How old were you then?"
"Um, five, my Lord," Harry muttered, distracted by the fingertips tracing the tendons in his neck.
"Ugh, 'my Lord,' always 'my Lord,' Draco groaned, moving his hand back to Harry's hair. "If I call you Harry, then you have to call me Draco."
"Alright, Draco."
The noble fell silent then, though he hand stayed in Harry's hair. Harry stared at the fire for a long time, remembering his early days in Malfoy Manor. When he looked up again, Draco had fallen asleep, head lolling on his shoulder and mouth open.
"You really shouldn't drink like that," Harry muttered, standing. He scooped the unconscious blond into his arms. "This is the second night in a week I've had to put you to bed, you know."
It wasn't the first time Harry had dealt with someone passed out drunk, but Draco was lighter and more fragile-looking than any of the guardsmen. Working quickly, used to the routine, Harry stripped him down to his breeches and pulled the covers over him. He folded the clothes, stoked up the fire with a quick spell, and shut the door, ready to collapse into his own bed.
He could still feel those soft, warm fingertips tracing the curve of his upper lip.
-0-
Draco woke, disoriented and confused, as the room flooded with weak winter sunlight. He didn't remember going to bed last night. For that matter, he didn't remember calling Seamus in to undress him, or even doing it himself, but he was definitely no in bed in his clothes.
Actually, the last thing his remembered was listening to Potter talking quietly and marvelling at the softness of his wild black hair.
He didn't…?
"Seamus, did I call you in last night?"
The servant frowned at him. "No, my Lord. You dismissed me after dinner."
He did.
"I want to go riding today," he said imperiously, climbing out of bed. Seamus brought him his buckskin leggings and a white tunic. "Potter, are you up?" he called, tying up the laces on his leggings.
"You know I always wake at dawn, right?" the captain grumbled, throwing open the door between their rooms. He must have been bathing, since he was towelling off his bare chest. The beltless cream-coloured trousers were sliding down his hips again. They slipped dangerously low as he ran the towel through his hair. Draco flushed and looked away.
He couldn't keep his eyes away from the well-formed young captain for long, though. Draco watched, transfixed, as he went through his own dressing routine. Potter tucked an undyed, short-sleeved linen shirt into his canvas trousers. His mail hauberk went over that, reaching to his elbows and partway down his thighs. The navy blue guardsman's tunic covered the metal links completely. Sword belt and vambraces, for his forearms, went over the tunic.
On the underside of his left vambrace he holstered a wand, and Draco felt his mouth fall open.
"Where did you get that?"
"This, my Lord?" He rolled his arm, displaying the length of wood. "I tested for it. My father was a noble and my mother was unusually powerful for her station, so no one was surprised I can use a wand."
Draco had so many questions, but he held them back. He was still annoyed that the guardsman had undressed him for bed. It made him uncomfortable to think of those strong fingers, callused from training with swords and riding, sliding across his skin, shedding clothes in their wake…
Maybe 'uncomfortable' wasn't quite the right word. Draco could feel his ears going warm.
"We're going riding after breakfast," he informed. "Seamus, I'll take the horse. Not the Thestral."
"Yes, my Lord." Seamus bowed quickly, then turned to where Potter was lounging against the doorframe. "Shall I tell the stables to prepare your horse as well, Captain Potter?"
"If you don't mind, Seamus," Potter smiled. "Thank you."
Seamus smiled easily back at the captain and bowed again before hurrying from the room.
Draco picked at his poached eggs, trying not to think about the man across the table, heartily enjoying his sausage and bread. He frowned as Potter took two large bites out of his apple and pocketed it.
"Ready?" he asked, swing a leg over the bench and standing as Draco swiped up the last bit of yolk. Seamus stepped forward and fastened a long black riding cloak over Draco's shoulders.
"What's your hurry, Potter?"
The captain's lip twitched. "I don't think I've ever been idle in my life. I don't quite know what to do with myself."
"What, never?" Draco asked, astonished. He remembered having hours of his childhood all to himself to play in his rooms or sometimes explore his father's suit.
Potter shrugged. "When I was little, I used to bring the guardsmen their middays, and they would tell me stories as I cleaned up. I got to watch the recruits train for a bit afterwards." He grinned. "If I was sitting around without any chores, Severus just gave me lessons."
"Sounds exhausting," Draco muttered, pulling on rabbit fur lined gloves as they approached the stables. Potter did likewise, though his were mail-backed leather. Greeting the grooms with a smile, Potter headed toward an aging chestnut stallion. Patting the animal's neck, he offered up the half-eaten apple. As the stallion crunched on the core, Potter checked over the tack.
"He's not going to be good for work much longer," the groom with the stallion's lead said.
"Yeah," Potter sighed. "Good old Prongs." He turned to Draco's dappled grey gelding, Monsieur, and checked the tack on it. "Right then," he said, swinging up into his saddle with an ease Draco was envious of. "Where shall we go, my Lord?"
Draco clambered up onto Monsieur with far less grace, glaring as Potter watched him. "Ever been to the deer park, Captain Potter?"
"Only with hunting parties, my Lord."
"Well," Draco smirked, "it's got some excellent riding paths. Good for racing." He spurred Monsieur into movement and heard Potter take off after him.
-0-
Harry followed just behind Draco at a trot, watching the noble post effortlessly on his beautiful grey animal. His black cloak rippled in little waves over the horse's back as he moved, and Harry wondered if he looked so elegant.
They hadn't done any racing, despite what Draco had said when they set off, which Harry didn't mind. If they did, would it be alright for him to beat the noble if he could?
The Draco Malfoy that had greeted him that morning was not the same Draco Malfoy he had put to bed last night. Possibly the blond was embarrassed, and Harry might have been too, if he hadn't grown up among the guard. As it was, Harry was far too used to half-dressed and even naked men. Gay or straight, everyone was naked in the guard at some point.
Harry wondered if Draco liked men or women. Either was acceptable in the nobility, especially under the tolerant rule of the King, as long as the couple could have children. Generally, that meant only couples magically powerful enough to do the spells, or rich enough to afford a physician's help, married. Harry himself was certainly powerful enough, and, from what he knew of the blond, Draco was too.
And that was a line of thinking he should never go down again, he decided, shaking his head. Draco could flirt all he wanted when he was drunk, but Harry wouldn't let himself think anything of it. A former slave, even if he was now captain of the guard, was still a marked man, nowhere near equal to a noble heir. Harry couldn't be with Draco, even as a quick shag, while he was on duty, and he was on duty until Slytherin left.
Besides, once Slytherin was gone, Harry wouldn't be around Draco much anymore. The blond would lose interest quickly.
"What are you thinking so intently about, Potter?" Draco asked, looking over his shoulder.
Harry jerked his head up. "The last raider camp my patrols found," he lied. "There are less and less every time, and somehow, I don't think it's a good thing."
Draco narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "You were the one who dragged Captain Black back, weren't you? The one with the injured shoulder?"
Surprised he remembered, Harry nodded. "Yes, my Lord. Severus fixed me up, and it barely scarred."
"I remember you," Draco said quietly. "I thought you were older than you were. You didn't seem my age." He looked over at Harry, slowing his horse to fall beside him. "You still seem older than me."
"If you say so, my Lord."
"I asked you to call me Draco, didn't I?" he frowned. "Last night?"
"When you called me Harry, my Lord," the captain explained. "You've called me Potter all morning, so I assumed you didn't remember."
"Well then, Harry," Draco smirked, "feel free to call me Draco whenever it's just us. I expect we'll be spending a lot of time together now."
Harry opened his mouth to reply, then fell silent at the sound of fast-approaching footsteps. He turned Prongs sharply and brought him to a stop, cutting off Draco's question with a raised hand. One of his recruits came dashing around the corner of the path.
"Captain Potter!" he panted, coming to a halt and bracing his hands on his knees. "Lord Malfoy has a message for you and requests that you return to the manor as soon as possible." He held out a small scroll.
Harry took it and slid the Malfoy blue ribbon off. "Thank you, Creevey," he dismissed, nodding in reply to Dennis Creevey's short bow.
"What is it?" Draco demanded as Harry read over the missive and pocketed it.
"Your father's refused to support Slytherin and he's angry about it. He made a threat against you already," he explained, spurring Prongs into a gallop. Keeping Draco on his left, Harry watched the brush around them the whole way back.
Dismounting in the yard, he could feel eyes on the back of his neck. Looking up, he saw Slytherin's guard captain, Macnair, watching him from a window in the guest wing. Feeling uneasy, he slid closer to Draco.
"Must you?" Draco groaned.
"Yes," Harry replied shortly. He stayed close enough to touch the blond as he followed him back to his rooms.
"Potter, I think I can enter my own rooms," Draco complained.
Harry caught him by the back of his cloak and yanked him back. "With all due respect, my Lord, this is my job, and you're going to let me do it." He held Draco's glare steadily until the blond gave in and let him go first.
Harry was glad he had forced the issue. He could feel a faint prickle of Dark Magic across his skin, itching uncomfortably. He unsheathed both wand and sword and crept forward, following the magic in the air.
It was centered on Draco's bed. Harry remembered that the Nott heir and Parkinson's daughter had both fallen ill during the night. Slytherin seemed to be casting curses on their beds and letting the magic soak into them as they slept. The same would have happened to Draco, if he slept there.
The prickle was already fading, and Harry had a suspicion that he could only feel it because it was still fresh. Too much longer and no one would have known.
"Sit," he ordered, coming back out into the sitting room. Draco sat, and he sent Seamus to fetch Severus. "A Dark curse was laid on your bed." Draco's mouth fell open. "Now do you believe that I'm here to protect you?"
Draco nodded weakly, raking a hand through his fine blond hair. Harry wondered briefly if Draco would let him feel it, like he had done with Harry's hair.
"This had better be important enough to justify a ruined potion, Harry Potter," Severus scowled coming through the door. Harry shook away his errant thoughts, snapping back to the matter at hand.
-0-
Harry sat on his bed with a groan, exhausted after an hour of cursebreaking with Severus. He removed his boots slowly, letting them drop to the floor. Using strong, concentrated magic for too long always left him with an ache in his bones. He fumbled as he unbuckled his vambraces, knowing he wouldn't be up at dawn that morning.
"Harry?" Draco called from their shared doorway. "You alright?" Harry figured he must have heard his groan.
"Yeah, just tired," Harry replied, finally get his vambraces off. "Do you need something, Draco?"
Draco licked his lips, hesitating, then stepped forward. "I just wanted to thank you," he said quietly. "I know I haven't made it…particularly enjoyable for you, staying here, but if you hadn't noticed that curse-"
"Draco," Harry cut him off, "I'm doing my job. Regardless of how much of an arse you are, I'm still just going to do my job."
Draco looked like he wanted to protest, but just nodded instead. He watched Harry try to unbuckle his sword belt with clumsy fingers. "Do you need help?"
Harry sighed, letting his hands drop. "Yeah, I do. I haven't done that much magic in a while, it's draining. If you could just call Seamus-"
"Don't be stupid, Harry," Draco grinned suddenly, stepping right up into Harry's space. "I'm perfectly capable of undressing you myself, I'm not an invalid." His nimble fingers made quick work of the sword belt, laying it to the side with the vambraces.
Harry's eyes fluttered shut as Draco's palms slid up his torso, removing tunic and hauberk together. A series of sharp tugs untucked his shirt, and the nobleman's warm hands left gooseflesh where they brushed against his skin. Picking his hips off the bed for a second, he let Draco strip him of trousers and stockings.
"Harry," he murmured, his voice husky in a way Harry hadn't heard before, and those warm, nimble fingers danced over the faint scar on his shoulder. Harry opened his eyes to see a hot silver gaze far closer than he's expected. It was the only warning he had before soft lips pressed against his.
Groggy and surprised, Harry didn't react, freezing. Then Draco started nibbling hungrily on his upper lip, and Harry pulled back.
"Don't," he warned in the sharpest voice he could muster. "Just…don't."
"Harry," Draco pleaded, wrapping a hand around his hip, and Harry could feel the heat of it through the thin linen of his breeches. "Please."
"Go to bed," he sighed. "We can talk in the morning, but please just let me sleep."
"Alright, yeah," Draco mumbled, already backing away, "alright. Goodnight, Harry." He didn't look at Harry again, easing the door closed behind him.
"Goodnight, my Lord," Harry murmured, already slipping into sleep.
Three sharp knocks on his outer door woke him in the morning. Harry blinked blearily, knowing the sun had long since risen.
"Up and at 'em, Captain Potter," Seamus called cheerily. Harry threw his pillow at the door and heard Seamus break into laughter on the other side.
He suddenly remembered what had happened the night before and buried his face in his hands with a groan. How stupid was he, letting Draco kiss him like that? Then to tell him they would talk about it in the morning! He couldn't be with the noble, and he blamed his exhaustion for not coming up with a way to avoid the whole situation.
He splashed some water on his face and dressed quickly, ignoring the phantom feeling of Draco's hands on his chest the night before. Taking a deep breath, he carefully blanked his face and stepped out into the sitting room, as ready as he could be to face the world.
"Morning, my Lord."
Draco looked up at him with an expression bordering on a glare. The heat in his silver eyes nearly stopped Harry in his tracks, but he pushed on, sitting across the table and digging into his breakfast.
"Seamus, you're dismissed," Draco ordered sharply, never looking away from Harry. "Come back later for the dishes." The servant looked warily between them, but accepted the order with a bow.
"Draco…"
"Care to explain, Potter?"
"Magic help me," Harry muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand across his forehead. "What is it you want from me, my Lord?" he snapped, and a surge of vicious satisfaction ran through him as Draco leaned back. "A lover? A brief affair? Maybe just a quick shag?"
Draco was shaking his head, but Harry ignored him. "I'm part of your father's household. I work for you, I'm not your equal. You deserve an equal, and I won't be anyone's secret lover."
He stood and came around the table. As he reached Draco's side, he dropped down to one knee, holding out his sword and pressing his right fist to his heart. "This is my place, my Lord. Not in your bed."
"Harry," Draco slid to his knees on the stone floor in front of him. He cupped and hand over Harry's cheek, but the captain kept his face blank and his eyes firmly fixed on the floor, and Draco let go. "I'm not looking for anything more than whatever you're willing to give me."
"Then please accept my apologies, my Lord," Harry said formally. "My only purpose is your safety."
-0-
Draco sat to his father's right, trying to calm his racing thoughts. They all centered on the man calmly reporting to Lucius on the curse that Slytherin had laid on Draco's bed. Harry had seemed so soft and relaxed the night before, quietly submitting to Draco handling him, and he just hadn't been able to help himself. It was the first time he could see that Harry really was the same age as him. The captain was always so strong and serious, so much more worldly than Draco, and not like anything he had expected from the youngest captain of the guard in memory. He actually felt safer with Captain Potter watching him, which he hadn't imagined before.
Now he was imagining how safe he'd feel held in those strong arms, tucked under the rich covers of his bed. He could press his nose against that scar on Harry's shoulder, breathing in his clean, herbal smell, and fall asleep to the steady sound of his heartbeat. Would Harry sleep on his back, or would he wrap around Draco as much as Draco wanted to wrap around him, pressing those dry lips against Draco's hair…
"Do you believe he'll try again?" Lucius asked, startling Draco from his reverie.
"I do, my Lord," Harry replied. "His usual tactic hasn't worked, but he will still want your cooperation. Yours is the wealthiest family Lord Slytherin has approached so far, he needs your support."
Lucius rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip thoughtfully. "He won't try the same curse again."
"I do not believe so, my Lord," Harry agreed. "I expect him to be more…direct. He'll likely try to catch him while I'm asleep."
Eyes narrowed, Lucius nodded. "Do what you must to keep my son safe, Captain Potter." Harry bowed, fist over his heart, and retired to a place in the shadows by the door. "Slytherin has informed me that he will stay another week. He is…persistant."
"Yes, Father," Draco murmured, tearing his eyes away from Harry's shadowy form.
Lucius raised an eyebrow at him. "How are you getting on with Captain Potter?"
"Well enough," Draco said, flushing. "He's very professional."
"You haven't been able to charm him yet, then?" Lucius asked nonchalantly.
"Father!"
Lucius smirked. "I'm not blind, Draco. Wherever your mind has wandered this week, your eyes are always fixed on Harry." He gripped his son's shoulder bracingly. "He's a good man, isn't he? A very good man."
The Lord stood, signalling for Wood to follow him as he left the hall. Draco sat for a moment, staring, but his own guard stayed in the shadows. He couldn't even see the expression on his face.
"Let's go to the gardens, Potter," he decided, standing. He hadn't been to the manor gardens since he was a small child, but the sun was unusually warm for early winter and he wanted to feel it.
"As you wish, my Lord."
Draco discovered another new side of Harry Potter in the gardens. He was the trusted captain with an iron will, the stoic and loyal guardsman doing anything to protect, the learned student of magical arts, the soft young man nearly boneless with exhaustion, and now this smiling friend of gardeners and kitchen maids. He greeted everyone they passed, most by name. Old women cooks and stooped gardeners welcomed him back like a grandson, pressing fresh sugar peas and carrots into his hands. He took off his cloak with a grin, tossing it over a fence and freeing up his arms to help one of the ancient cooks carry baskets.
Draco joined in without a thought, just to work beside Harry and have that smile turned his way.
"I've always loved working in the gardens," Harry told him as they sat on a bench in the kitchen, shelling peas. Draco didn't know how he'd ended up there, he'd just followed Harry. Surprisingly, he didn't mind it. The work was simple, and Harry seemed willing to talk to him when his hands were busy. "Plants were most of my education, living with Severus and all, but all his things are dried and powered and in clay pots. Everything in the gardens is alive and growing.
"After my morning chores were done, I'd always rush off to the gardens or the kitchens and just…hang around until it was midday. They always gave me little jobs to do. Dig up these carrots and wash them, take those baskets to the kitchen, turn the roasting spit, that sort of thing. Even once I was in the guard, I'd always spend part of my days off around here, helping out."
"And now?" Draco asked, smiling at the thought of a little wild-haired boy running around the kitchen, all smiles and chatter as he carried big baskets he could barely hold.
Harry's smile turned wistful. "I don't really have days off now, I always seem to be working. I still come down and have my midday here when I can. Seamus and I eat together fairly often."
Draco looked down at the bowl in his lap, half-full of peas he'd shelled without noticing. "I never would have thought to come down here," he admitted. "Probably the closest I've come is the archive."
"How much do you know about the world around you, then?" Harry wondered, not unkindly. "There's so much going on that you don't even know, and that's just in the manor." He looked around at all the kitchen maids and cook bustling around them, pressing fond touches to their backs and shoulders as they worked. "They're so happy to see you here. People just want to know that you care about then, especially if you're going to be in charge of them one day."
"Is that what you did with the guard?" Draco asked curiously.
"I must have, even if I didn't know it then."
Draco looked up at one of the old women, cutting meat for a stew and watching him happily, and tentatively smiled back. She absolutely beamed at him. "You would be a better noble than me," he decided, and Harry's ears went red. "Will you show me what I don't know?"
"Sure, Draco," Harry said, nudging him with his shoulder, and Draco resisted the urge to lean against him in return. "But we have to finish these peas first," he added with a smirk.
Draco looked at their huge basket of peapods a groaned. Harry just laughed.
-0-
Harry had a feeling, deep in his gut, that something was going to happen tonight. Foiled once, Slytherin would be angry and attempt to strike again harder. He paused in the doorway to the sitting room as Draco went through to his bedchamber, followed by Seamus. He ran his hand over the smooth stones that made up the door frame and smirked.
He drew a hunting knife from his belt and cut his thumb. Concentrating, Harry traced the runes of a simple proximity ward on both sides of the door frame, down by the floor. It was a single-use ward, useless once it was tripped. The purpose wasn't as a barrier but as a warning, since it would wake him from the deepest sleep if someone opened the door after he set it.
Thinking, he added one more rune set to expand the ward over the whole suit. With the modification, Harry only needed to mark any other entrances with his blood, and he would wake up if any of them were opened. Standing, he crossed to the window and smeared his blood on both sides of the widow casing. Cutting his other thumb, he went to Draco's bedchamber to do the same to his window.
Draco must have exhausted himself during the day, because he was already asleep. Harry watched for a second as the young noble shifted his head on his pillow and made a little snuffling noise, then shook himself and continued with his task. Once all the widows were warded, he checked to make sure Seamus had gone for the night and set the ward.
Still vaguely uneasy, Harry slipped his hunting knife under his pillow before he fell asleep, one hand on the hilt.
Deep in the darkest part of the night Harry was suddenly wide awake, mind whirring with thoughts of alarm. He rolled out of bed and dropped into a fighting stance in the same movement, immediately looking for an opponent. He took a second to switch out the knife for his sword and find out where the ward had broken.
It was the window in Draco's room. Harry swore and burst through the door between their rooms.
The man standing over Draco's bed nearly dropped his wand in shock, incantation faltering on his lips. He was hooded and shrouded in a black cloak, but Harry didn't care who he was. He only cared that this man could bleed, because he was about to kill him.
The hooded man turned his wand on Harry, and Harry was glad he always slept with his tucked in the waist of his breeches. He knocked aside the man's spell, sending out his own bolt of magic and knocking the man into the wall behind him.
In the time it took Harry to round the bed, the hooded man had unsheathed a sword of his own, raising it to meet Harry's strike in a practiced move. A gasp behind him told him Draco had woken up, but Harry ignored it.
Slashing out, the man forced Harry back to give him space to stand. Harry dropped back, readying his sword again, and the two launched at each other.
Harry lost himself in action and reaction of the fight, the thrust and parry and return. His eyes tracked his opponent's weaknesses on instinct, looking for soft spots and movements to exploit. He didn't know how long it was, a second or a few minutes or many hours more, before he found it.
He stepped around his opponent and the hooded man tried to follow, but his large cloak slowed his movements down. Snapping his arm down, Harry slammed the pommel of his own blade into the man's hand, forcing him to drop his weapon. Grabbing the front of the black cloak with his other hand, Harry dragged the man down to his knees and ripped back the hood, pressing the edge of his sword into the man's throat hard enough to draw blood.
"Macnair," he growled, recognising Slytherin's guard captain.
"In the flesh," Macnair replied. "Potter, isn't it? You're good, I'll give you that much."
"If I had my way, your head would be rolling across the floor right now," Harry spat. Macnair flinched, and a bead of blood rolled down the spine of the blade against his throat. Harry leaned in, lowering his voice to a deadly rumble. "But I wouldn't give that Slytherin bastard the satisfaction of the scandal."
Macnair opened his mouth to reply, but Harry raised his sword and slammed the pommel into the older man's temple, knocking him out cold. He hauled the man over his shoulder and carried him out into the hall. A sharp whistle brought the nearest pair of patrolling guardsmen to him at a jog.
"Take Captain Macnair into the Low Town and leave him in the alley behind a tavern," he ordered, turning over man and weapon to one of the guardsmen. "If you value your positions, you'll say nothing about this exchange," he warned, and both guardsmen swallowed hard.
"Yes sir, Captain Potter." They both hurried off, eyes wide.
Harry yawned, adrenaline fading, and went back to Draco's suite. It was the work of minutes to re-ward the room, though he didn't think there would be another attempt that night.
Stepping back into Draco's room, he had to pull his sword away quickly as the blond launched at him and clung to him, shaking.
"Harry," he nearly sobbed. Harry set his weapon aside to wrap an arm around his waist. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
"I'm perfectly fine, Draco," he soothed. "He never even touched me." He eased Draco onto the bed and shut the window, marking it with his blood again and setting the ward with a pulse of magic. He rifled through Draco's things on a nearby table until he found the man's belt knife.
"Here," he tossed the knife to him, "keep that under your pillow every night until Slytherin leaves, alright?" Draco gripped the knife with white knuckles and shaking hands. "Draco, are you alright?"
"I-I…" Draco stuttered, wrapping his arms over his middle. "No," he whispered. "Will you stay with me?"
"They won't try anything else tonight, you're safe for now…" Harry tried to calm him, only to trail off as Draco turned wide, scared silver eyes his way.
"Please, Harry?"
Harry raked a hand through his hair and sigh. "Yeah, alright. I'll stay, just give me a second." Draco nodded weakly and stowed away the belt knife, climbing under the covers.
Harry went back to his room to wipe Macnair's blood off his sword and put it up. He traded out the hand-and-a-half captain's sword for his old one-handed recruit's blade, which was shorter and fit better under a pillow.
After tonight, there was no way he was sleeping with anything less than a short sword.
Draco was curled on his side when Harry came back. "I'm back," he murmured as he lifted the covers, not wanting to startle him. He could feel the bed shaking gently with Draco's tremors. "Go to sleep now, I'm here."
"Harry, I'm scared," Draco admitted in a whisper.
"I know," Harry replied. He rested a hand hesitantly on Draco's side, unsure of how the comforting gesture would be taken, but Draco just rolled toward him with a soft whimper, burying his face in Harry's bare chest. Giving a resigned sigh, he wrapped his arms around Draco gently, holding him as his shaking slowed and he fell asleep.
He knew he would regret this in the morning. It was impossible to be aloof and professional wrapped up in bed. He shouldn't be enjoying it as much as he was, either, but Draco's lithe body felt so warm and comfortable curled around him.
-0-
"Draco."
Someone was shaking him gently, but Draco didn't want to wake up. He burrowed into the cosy warmth around him, grumbling. It smelled herbal and clean, and Draco recognised it after a moment as the crook of Harry's neck.
"Draco," Harry said insistently.
"Don't want to," Draco mumbled. He kissed the hollow of the throat beside him. Harry tensed and his breath caught.
"Get up," he said tightly, pushing Draco away. He stood with his back to Draco, and Draco could see the tense muscles of his shoulders in the early morning sun. "I have to report to your father this morning. Someone will stay with you while I'm gone."
"Alright," Draco accepted softly, the good mood he'd had when he woke leaking away.
Harry's head snapped toward the outer door suddenly. "Seamus is here," he informed. He collected his sword from under the pillow Draco had shared with him during the night and went off to his room without once looking at Draco.
Draco pulled the covers over his head and ignored Seamus until the servant pulled them away.
"Captain Potter has gone to see Lord Malfoy, but he said to tell you he's left two of his best guardsmen in the sitting room until he returns," Seamus informed him.
Draco didn't want to go out there and see two other guards. He wanted to see Harry, to have breakfast with Harry, to watch him eat with his peculiar hidden enjoyment of food or mornings or whatever it was that he so thoroughly enjoyed. He didn't want to get dressed yet, he wanted to stay in bed all day, preferably with Harry beside him. It was only now that he really realised he had had the captain in his bed, arms around him, both of them stripped down to their breeches and pressed against each other. Draco groaned.
"I'll take breakfast in here," he decided. He turned to Seamus, who raised an eyebrow but started clearing off the table. "Where's my morning robe?"
-0-
"Captain Potter to see you immediately, my Lord."
Harry waited impatiently outside the hall doors as he was announced. Just his luck, he had to interrupt Lord Malfoy during a meeting with his advisors.
The door guardsman came out and ushered him in with a bow. Harry nodded back and stepped through.
Lord Malfoy sat at the head of the table, surrounded by silent advisors, and watched him coolly as Harry bow low with his fist over his heart. "Is this truly an urgent matter, Captain Potter?"
"Yes, my Lord," Harry replied seriously.
"On what matter?" Malfoy asked, eyebrow cocked.
"On the matter of my assignment," Harry said, trying to be as obtuse as possible, while get Malfoy to understand.
Evidently he did, since he dismissed the advisors. Wooden chairs scraped across stone as they left. Malfoy stood as well, coming around the table. "What happened to Draco?"
Harry could see the panic barely hidden in his eyes. "Lord Slytherin's Captain Macnair broke in through Draco's window and attempted to curse him while he slept." The panic got worse, and Harry rushed to calm his Lord. "He never got far enough into the curse to cause any damage. I warded the suite before I retired, and the ward woke me as soon as Macnair opened the window."
Malfoy relaxed visibly. "I take it you were able to…apprehend him."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Excellent," he nodded. "What did you do with him?"
Harry let a small, feral smirk break through his blank mask. "Captain Macnair had an unfortunate interaction between his temple and the pommel of my sword and will no doubt be confused when he wakes up behind a Low Town tavern."
"Good, good!" Malfoy chuckled. "At least you didn't kill him. Slytherin would be after my hide for that."
"His other option was beheaded and eviscerated," Harry growled, and Wood flinched, standing in the shadows at the back of the room. Even Malfoy leaned back, a little surprised. He smirked faintly.
"It's good to see my choice venerated," he murmured. "You've grown quite protective of Draco." Harry flushed but kept still. "If that is all?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Very well, dismissed." Harry bowed again. "I'm sure you're anxious to get back to Draco," he added, and Harry could feel his face going even redder. Malfoy's chuckles followed him out of the hall.
Harry pressed his burning face against the cool stone wall as soon as he was out of sight of the door guardsmen. Magic save him, how far gone was he if Lord Malfoy could see it? An image flashed in his mind of waking up that morning, Draco pressed skin-to-skin against him, and he groaned, pushing his forehead harder into the unyielding stone.
Sighing, he continued on his way back to Draco's suite. Coming around a corner, he saw Lord Slytherin coming toward him. Stepping off to the side, he greeted the Lord with a shallow bow, keeping his hands by his sides. "Lord Slytherin, good morning."
"Ah, Captain Potter," Slytherin replied smoothly. Harry's eyes went wide before he schooled his expression. "Did you really think I would be fooled by your little ploy, Captain?" he smirked.
Harry debated trying for innocent, but innocence and utter hatred didn't work very well together. "I had hoped, your Lordship," he replied, going for full honesty instead. Slytherin sneered as he met his eyes. He fought the urge to recoil at the unnatural blood-red colour.
"What are you trying to accomplish, going against me?" Slytherin asked, crimson eyes narrowed.
"My task is to protect my Lord's heir, with my life if necessary. If you try for Draco again, I will end my task by killing you," Harry said coldly, stepping closer. "I will soak my hands in your bastard blood, and there is nothing on this earth that can stop me."
Slytherin slammed him against the wall, long fingers wrapping around his throat. He leaned in, nose almost touching Harry's, and bared his teeth. "You don't have the strength or power to even scratch me," he growled. He raised his free hand, stroking one skeletal fingertip across Harry's cheek. "Interesting that you, of all people, would call me bastard. You, the bastard son of James Potter. An orphan, and a former slave, to boot."
"How do you know that?" Harry snarled, keeping Slytherin's attention on his eyes as he fumbled with his belt knife.
"I know you, Harry Potter," the Lord crooned, "because you're me. Don't fight against me, join me. Fight for me, and I will give you what you so desperately need." A coldly seductive smile curled on his face. "Legitimacy," he whispered.
Finally freeing his knife, he brought it up and pressed it under Slytherin's chin. "You know nothing about me," he spat. "I don't need legitimacy. I'm proud of who I am, bastard and the rest, which is more than you can say." Slytherin's fingers tightened on his throat, almost cutting off his air, and he pressed the blade in harder in response. "Stalemate, your Lordship."
They glared at each other for a moment that seemed like an eternity. With a last squeeze, Slytherin let go and stepped back. Harry dropped his arm, sheathing his knife, and gave a shallow bow. "Good day, your Lordship."
The guardsmen he'd left in Draco's private sitting room stared at his neck as he came in, and he knew Slytherin's fingers had left long bruises there. "Dismissed," he snapped, and they fell over themselves in a rush to leave. He found Draco lounging on his bed in a morning robe, picking at his breakfast as he listened to Seamus chattering as he scrubbed the floor. "Out," he ordered coldly.
Seamus dropped his scrub brush in the bucket and ran.
Harry snatched Draco's half-empty plate away from him, dropping it with a loud rattle on the table. "Harry!" Draco cried indignantly, sitting up. "I was still eating tha-" he froze, catching sight of the bruises. "What happened to you?"
"A conversation," he answered shortly. "Get up, we're leaving."