Draco stared as Harry ripped open his wardrobe, rifling through the clothes. He had never seen the captain so cold and angry. It couldn't have been a conversation with his father, his father would never resort to physical violence.

Lord Slytherin, then? If he had threatened Draco again, it would be like Harry to automatically defend him, however reckless the action might be.

"Where are we going?" he asked, drawing his robe tighter around himself instinctively to protect himself from Harry's barely-controlled rage. He could see the captain shaking with it.

"The outer village," Harry answered. "There's a patrol that rides out soon, we'll go with them."

"Why?" Draco ventured hesitantly.

"I'm getting you out of the manor," Harry said flatly. "We're staying with Sirius until Slytherin leaves." He finally stopped tearing through Draco's clothes and sighed. "Do you have anything that doesn't scream 'noble'?"

"Why would I?" Draco said, worried but still curious.

"Fine. You can wear mine, then." He crooked a finger, and Draco followed him through to his room. "Put these on," he ordered, tossing a bundle of clothes over.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the garments, but he knew better than to argue with Harry. He pulled on brown trousers and thick stockings with a hole in the toe and a red shirt, all made of wool and worn thin in spots with wear and age. Harry was broader and more muscular than he was, so the trousers were baggy and the shirt loose on his shoulders.

He jumped when Harry reached around his waist, cinching tight an old leather belt to hold up the trousers and fixing Draco's knife to it. He wrapped a grey cloak over the blond's shoulders, as worn as the clothes and shorter than his captain's cloak or any of Draco's riding cloaks.

"Disguise?" Draco asked, feeling the clothes. The trousers were a heavy, work-grade material, but the shirt was light and breathable, even if it was made of cheaper wool instead of linen.

"Of course," Harry replied, pulling out a pair of old boots. "It won't fool Slytherin, but it makes me feel better." He sat Draco down on the bed with a shove and knelt, putting on the boots himself. It was something no one but a servant would do, but Harry did it without thinking.

To be fair, Draco wasn't thinking much about it either. He was more focused on Harry on his knees and between his legs. Green eyes caught his as Harry looked up, and Draco blushed brightly.

Harry scrambled to his feet, his own cheeks faintly pink. "I, uh, I'll send a note to your father explaining everything."

Draco watched as he wrote out a quick explanation and sealed it. "Use my seal," he offered passing over his signet ring, worn by generations of Malfoy heirs. "That way he doesn't think you've abducted me. Or we've eloped." He smirked when Harry's ears went red, but the captain said nothing as he stepped out to send his guardsmen off with the note. Without guardsmen at the door, Draco's suite would look like they'd already left.

"You don't look very disguised," Draco noted, eyeing the captain's cloak flowing behind Harry.

"Not yet," Harry grinned. "Just wait." He took off his hand-and-a-half sword, made of high quality steel and marked with small decorative touches, and changed it out for his old recruit's sword. He took off the cloak and wrapped the larger weapon in it, stowing the bundle away at the bottom of a canvas rucksack. Over his head he pulled a mail coif. "There," he said, popping his helmet under his arm, "standard guardsman."

"Impressive," Draco drawled sarcastically. Harry snorted. "Was your conversation with Slytherin, by any chance?"

Harry stilled, rucksack hanging from his hands. "Yeah," he sighed. "He knows exactly who I am, though I don't know how."

"And how did you get those marks?" Draco continued.

"I may have given him factual information about what would happen if he tried to hurt you again, and he may have taken it as a threat."

"What, that he would fail if he tried?" Draco smirked as he fiddled with bottom of Harry's mail hood, getting the coif to lay flat.

"Try killing him and bathing in his blood," Harry shot back. "I would hunt him down, and nothing short of my own death would keep me from killing him." He looked at Draco so protectively, and Draco dragged him into a hard kiss, groaning.

Harry kissed back for a moment, nipping and biting, and his hand curled around the back of Draco's neck. Then he shoved him away, dropping his hand like it was burnt. "Don't," he pleaded, snatching up the rucksack and stuffing a bedroll inside. "Please."

Draco looked away, hurt and ashamed.

-0-

Harry swung his leg over Prongs' back, pulling himself up on the horse's back. He handed Draco the rucksack, pulling the strap over his shoulder. He offered a hand, and Draco just looked at it.

"Don't be stupid, your horse is too recognizable," he said. "Get up here."

Scowling, Draco took the hand and pulled himself up behind him. "I've never ridden tandem," he muttered.

"I'm not going to let you fall off," Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. He reached back, tugging the hood of the borrowed cloak over Draco's signature white-blond hair and wrapping his arms tightly around his own middle.

Marcus Flint watched him warily as they joined the patrol. "Take point, Flint," he ordered, putting on his great helm like the rest of the guard. "I'm trying not to look like the captain."

Flint nodded sharply and wheeled his mount around, letting out a sharp whistle. The rest of the patrol, three younger guardsmen low enough in the ranks to pull day patrol through the outer village, fell into formation. Harry spurred Prongs into line beside the guardsman at the back. They took off through the gate at a gallop and Draco nearly snapped him in half with how tight he held on.

Harry took a deep breath as the noble relaxed again. It was going to be a long ride to Sirius' place.

They reached it just after noon, peeling away from the patrol with a sharp salute from Flint. Slowing Prongs from a trot to a gentle walk, they approached a small whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof. It lay between a thriving garden and a small animal pen holding five pigs and a little henhouse. Sirius' old war horse, a stallion named Padfoot that was past his prime, grazed in a paddock behind the house with a milk cow.

"This is Black's house?" Draco asked in his ear, chin over his shoulder. Harry nodded, bringing Prongs to a stop and dismounting. He helped Draco down and tied the horse to the fence of the animal pen.

"Who's there?" Sirius demanded, coming out of the house, sword in hand. He glanced at Draco, then at the horse, recognising Prongs. "Harry?"

"Hey Sirius," Harry greeted, pulling his helm off. "We need a place to stay for a while. Quietly."

"Of course," Sirius grinned. "Who's your friend?" Draco lowered his hood. Sirius stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Oh, magic help me! Feel like roughing it, my Lord?"

Draco scowled and opened his mouth, but Harry spoke first. "Malfoy assigned me to protect him. Period, no stipulations. He's my charge as long as Slytherin is here."

Sirius' face went solemn and he nodded, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Stay, then." He glanced at Draco again. "I've only got a pallet to spare. You'll have to take the floor, Harry."

"When has that ever stopped me?" Harry grinned. "As long as you have enough food…" he trailed off suggestively, giving his old captain wide eyes.

"Yeah, I remember your appetite," Sirius grumbled jokingly. "I've got food aplenty, don't you worry." He led the way into the house. "It isn't quite manor fare, my Lord, but it's filling. Better than Fletcher's, anyway."

"Don't remind me," Harry grunted, sick at the thought of the Low Town inn. "Bad thief, even worse cook. His food was more of a crime than his stealing."

"He should have fed his victims first, then picked their pockets once they died," Sirius agreed. "I'd like to shake the hand of whoever pelted him with his own meat pies when he was in the stocks." Harry stuck out his own hand with an impish grin and Sirius laughed. "That was you?" He took Harry's hand and pulled him into a hug, shaking with laughter.

He showed them into a small kitchen that was mostly hearth, with a square table and two stools. Harry waved Sirius and Draco toward the stools, taking up a position leaning against the wall. Sirius ladled out some stewed pork into his only two bowls and cut thick slices of hearty bread. He offered one bowl to each of his guests, but Harry shook his head.

"I don't need anything special, Sirius," he smiled. Harry smeared his bread with soft cheese and piled stewed pork on top of it, making sure to drain off as much liquid as he could first. Draco watched him with curiosity and some hidden warmth that Harry couldn't fathom in his eyes. "Eat, Draco. It won't hurt you, I promise."

Draco took a wary bite, hesitant at first, then chewing with vigour. "This is good!" he exclaimed, and Harry chuckled. Sirius bowed from across the table. Draco ate heartily as Harry and Sirius chatted, comparing experiences as captain of the guard, mopping up the last of the broth and bits of pork with the crust of his bread like Sirius did.

"Finished?" Harry asked. Draco nodded. "Good. Come with me, we have work to do."

"Work?" Draco hurried after him, followed by Sirius' laughter. "What do you mean, work?"

-0-

Draco stared at the sword in his hand, Harry's own single-handed sword.

"Recruits take two months to work up to a real blade," Harry was saying, "but we don't have that kind of time. So I'll show you the steps, and you copy me, alright?"

He proceeded to put Draco through a few punishing hours of repetitive moments. He would teach Draco one manoeuver, going slowly and stopping to adjust his grip and stance, then have him do it again and again, faster each time, until he was satisfied.

Sweat poured down Draco's face and made his shirt cling to his skin, and his arms and shoulders burned from holding the heavy sword out for hours. He was sure he would hear Harry sharp voice ordering "Again!" invading his dreams that night.

"Take a break," Harry said at last, catching the sword as Draco nearly dropped it. Draco collapsed on the ground, chest heaving, and Harry laughed.

"Not tired, are you, my Lord?" Black called, wandering over with a bucket of well water. He knelt and wiped Draco's face and neck with a wet cloth while Draco gulped down the cool water. "You're a hard taskmaster, Captain Potter!"

"I learned from the best, Captain Black!" Harry laughed, swinging his longer blade with ease. Draco watch, entranced, as Harry flowed through the same steps Draco had struggled with, all effortless grace.

Black watched with a fond smile, then snatched up Draco's sword and leapt in with a cry, blocking Harry's high strike. "I challenge you!" He took up a ready stance, tucking his handless arm behind his back.

"Prepare for defeat, old man," Harry grinned wickedly. He copied Black's stance, twirling his sword elegantly by his side before he brought it up. They stared at each other for a moment, hardly breathing, then both launched into movement at the same time, obeying a signal Draco couldn't see.

He propped himself up on his elbows to watch. Harry and Black danced around each other, blades ringing as they clashed. Black seemed to favour sweeping slashes, very showy, and fought with a technique that must have been honed by his decades in the Malfoy guard. Harry preferred quick thrusts followed by sharp upward cuts that Draco imagined would gut opponents. He used his longer reach to evade Black.

He caught Black's sword over their heads, locking up, and raised a foot to kick Black in the chest. Amputated arm wheeling, Black went down on his back, sword falling from his hand. Harry pressed the same foot down on his sword hand, tip of his own blade under Black's chin. "Yield."

"I yield," Black grunted, and Harry gave him a hand up.

"You're out of practice, Siri," he teased, then ducked as Black aimed a slap at the back of his head.

"Yeah, well," Black sighed, "not much call for sword play in farming." He looked up at the sun creeping toward the western horizon. "Clean up, I'll make supper."

Harry nodded, shedding gloves and vambraces and stripping off tunic, hauberk and shirt. He picked up the bucket of well water beside Draco and poured it over his head, rubbing himself down with the cloth. Draco shivered just watching him. The heat he'd worked up during his training had long since faded away, leeched by the cool early winter air. With the sun going down, it was only getting colder.

"You need to get up and move around," Harry told him, nudging him with a booted toe. "Keep your muscles moving, or they'll be all locked up come morning."

"I like watching you fight," he mumbled tiredly, raising his hands. Harry helped him up.

-0-

Harry looked over the small room Sirius had given them. It was a storage room, full of sacks of seed and grain, piled up to make room for the pallet on the floor. He rolled up Draco's borrowed cloak to make a pillow for him.

"It isn't much, and it won't be very warm," he warned the noble. "I'm sorry."

Draco squeezed his shoulder. "I think I can rough it for a few days."

Looking away studiously as Draco undressed, Harry laid out the bedroll by the door. He stripped off everything but his shirt and his breeches. He used his captain's cloak as a blanket, but he knew the thin, summer weight wool wouldn't keep him very warm.

"You're right," Draco sighed into the dark some time later. "This isn't warm at all." Harry could hear the tiny tremors in his voice from his shivering.

"Sorry," he apologised again.

"You're just trying to keep me safe," Draco replied. "I know how you can make it up to me, though."

"What's that?" Harry asked, rolling over to face Draco's corner. The sound of shifting fabric told him Draco had shifted too.

"You can come over here and keep me warm," the noble offered, almost coyly.

Harry opened his mouth to refuse, very aware of the mixed signals he must be sending Draco, when another wave of shivers racked his body. He sighed. "Fine," he grumbled. "Get up for a second."

Lighting his wand so they could see, Harry pulled the blankets off the pallet. He laid the lightly cushioned bedroll over the wood and rearranged the rolled up cloak. He laid down on the side nearest the door, sword on the floor beside him, and tugged Draco down on the other side. Draco curled into his side, sliding cold fingers under the hem of his shirt and making him jump. He pulled the blankets back over them with his blue cloak on top.

"Much better," Draco murmured, pressing his face into Harry's shoulder.

"Don't think anything of this," Harry warned. "You're cold, I'm cold, and I owe you for taking this whole thing so well."

"Of course," Draco mumbled, pressing his lips against the crook of Harry's neck.

"Stop that." Draco just hummed sleepily, already slipping away. Harry gave up and pulled Draco's warm, relaxed body halfway on top of his, feeling his fine blond hair tickle his cheek. Putting out his wand light, he closed his eyes.

"Oh, Harry," a familiar voice sing-songed, breaking through Harry's dreams. Harry hummed and turned his head away, encountering a soft warmth. Running his fingers through it, he discovered it was silky fine hair. "I didn't know it was like that, Harry."

"Shut up," Harry grumbled, yawning. "Dawn?"

"Course," Sirius grinned. "There's fresh bread, if you and my Lord could unstick yourselves and come eat."

"Go 'way," Draco mumbled, pulling the covers over his head. "Sleeping."

"Yes, my Lord." Sirius bowed mockingly, laughter dancing in his eyes. Harry threw a boot at him as he left.

"Draco needs to be back before Slytherin leaves," Harry said over breakfast. "It'll be suspicious if he isn't."

"Stay as long as you need," Sirius told him through a mouth full of bread. Harry smiled thankfully.

"Just three more days. Then we'll be out of your way."

-0-

Draco slurped down one dipper full of water from the well and poured a second over his head, sweating from the practice Harry had put him to. The captain was working with Black in the garden, leaving Draco to repeat his parries on his own. He could hear their conversation, though they were out of sight around the corner of the little house.

"Not tired, are you, Harry?" Black teased. "In a hurry to get back to bed?"

"Don't know why you would think that," Harry shot back.

Black laughed. "I don't blame you, you know. I would be too if I had a pretty little nobleman wrapped around me at night."

Draco froze. Pretty little nobleman? He wasn't sure if he was flattered or insulted.

"It isn't like that," Harry objected, and Draco could picture the blush on his face, creeping toward his ears and down the back of his neck.

"Then what is it like?" Black asked, curiosity evident in his voice. "Because it looks to me like you two are pretty damn close. Are you lovers?"

"No!" Harry cried, making Draco jump. He dropped the dipper into the well bucket with a splash, but Harry talked over the noise. "We aren't…" He sighed heavily. "Draco wants to. That's two nights now we've shared a bed. He knows just how to ask so I can't refuse."

"You're a better man than I am if you can refuse that," Black laughed. "Oh, no. No, Harry, you didn't."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry denied in a voice that fooled no one.

"Don't lie to me, Harry Potter," Black scolded. "I'm the man who pulled a scared five-year-old out from behind a sword rack, remember? I know you better than that. You are gone over this boy."

"And what exactly am I supposed to do about it?" Harry demanded. There was a soft thunk; Harry had thrown down whatever tool he was holding. "I know he wants me, but I don't know how much. Does he even know how much?" He groaned, and his voice came out muffled, like he was covering his face. "I think I love him, Siri."

"What's stopping you, then?"

Harry laughed without humour. "You're kidding." Black said nothing. "There's no future for us! He's the next Lord Malfoy of Wiltshire, and I'm practically his property." There was the thud of a tool being buried in the dirt. "I swore my life, my sword, and my magic to the Malfoy line through his father. Malfoy owns me."

"No one owns you, Harry," Black said seriously.

Harry scoffed. "I think you know what's on my back."

"Yes, I know what's on your back," Black agreed. "I put the crest there myself when you were three. You were so strong, you didn't even cry." Draco choked at hearing about the slave's mark and how young Harry had been. "And I know your licens, too, because I put that there myself. No one owns you anymore."

"It can't work between us," Harry insisted, and Draco's heart twisted. "Just leave it, Sirius."

Draco picked up his borrowed sword and went back to his parries, distracted.

Harry hesitated when they went to bed that night, but Draco tugged him over to the pallet with him. He waited until Harry cast a cleaning charm on his guard tunic, then stole it, sliding it over his own head. "It's cold," he explained shortly when Harry gave him a questioning look. Harry shrugged and finished undressing, leaving on his shirt and breeches. He pulled the covers over them and Draco cuddled into his side immediately, finally knowing why the captain hesitated before resting his own arms around Draco's waist.

Harry fell asleep almost instantly, and Draco wondered if that came from his training in the guard. His tunic smelled like him, fresh and faintly herbal, and Draco wanted to spend the rest of his life wrapped up in Harry's strong arms and surrounded by that scent. If Harry was falling in love with him, however reluctantly, Draco was falling with him.

Now he just needed to get Harry to see that.

-0-

"I took this kid on his first trip to the tavern, my Lord." Sirius clapped Harry hard on the shoulder, barely avoiding stabbing him with his fork. "What were you, sixteen? Fifteen? Anyway, Podmore and I kept pouring ale down his throat and he passed out by midnight, so we just left him in the stables and went to Madam Vane's house of business, down in Low Town-"

Harry sat up sharply and clapped a hand over Sirius' mouth. Draco jumped, and Sirius glared and tried to bite him. "Shut up!" he hissed. "Listen."

Sirius cocked his head toward the door, closing his eyes and holding his breath just like Harry was doing. "Horses, at a gallop. Three?"

"Four," Harry corrected. "Might be mine, but not likely. Patrols don't go through that fast, and messengers ride in pairs."

"Slytherin's?" Sirius asked sharply, standing. His ramrod posture was instinctive, full of the kind of authority Harry hoped he portrayed as captain.

"Who else?" Harry snatched up his short sword from the bench Draco had left it on after his training and tossed it to him. He fetched his own captain's blade and returned to the kitchen to see Sirius holding a similar weapon. "I haven't seen that blade in a while," he commented.

"I've gotten a bit attached to it in my time," Sirius replied lightly. He glanced over at Draco, pale with fear behind them. "You think he'll be able to defend himself?"

Harry looked back with a frown. "No." He pulled off three layers at once, having taken off his vambraces to help Sirius in his garden. Peeling off the navy guard tunic, he handed the shirt and mail hauberk to Draco. "Put those on. Fast." Draco fumbled in his hast to obey. His shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of the mail, which hung loosely on his lean frame.

"Right then," Sirius said. Sword in his armpit, he wrapped his one hand around the back of Harry's neck and pressed their foreheads together. "Into battle, Captain Potter."

"Into battle." He turned to Draco. "Stay back and don't try anything heroic, no matter what happens. Your priority is to stay alive and unharmed, whatever it takes. If you have to run, do it. Understand?" Draco was grey by now, but he nodded shakily, settling into his stance by the door of the house.

Wand in his left hand, sword in his right, Harry strode forward to face the edge of the forest and waited. The pounding hoofbeats grew closer, and Harry counted twenty-three breaths before they came into sight; four mounted guardsmen in basic armour, dressed in the solid black of Slytherin's guard.

The lead man pulled his horse to a hard stop just in front of Harry and took off his helm. "Captain Potter," he greeted.

"Captain Macnair," Harry replied. "Finally figured out you don't have a chance against me alone?" Macnair snarled at him, and Harry grinned darkly. "That beheading offer still stands."

"Fond of your little boytoy, aren't you?" Macnair's gazed flicked over to Draco and back. "Pretty young thing, isn't he?"

Harry growled deep in his chest. "Are you coming down here, or shall I kill the horses too? Seems like a waste of such fine animals."

"Honourable combat doesn't interest me, Potter," Macnair dismissed, donning his helm again. "We'll stay mounted, if you don't mind. Blondie back there is the only one I need dead, so feel free to run if you don't want an unfair fight."

As he reached for his sword, Harry closed his eyes and cast a flashbang spell, spooking all four horses. They all reared and bucked, three of them tossing their riders. The fourth was tangled in his reins and had to cut himself free as his horse ran for the woods.

"I do hate killing good horses," Harry remarked as he blasted the dragged guardsmen into a tree as he stood. The magic left a scorch mark on his chest, and he didn't rise again.

Macnair stood back, but the other two rushed to engage Harry and Sirius. Harry met his opponent head on and saw Sirius fall back out of the corner of his eye, circling to make up for his missing hand.

Whenever Harry fought, his thoughts settled and his mind went blank, leaving only instinct and muscle memory. His opponent tried to force him back, tried to get around him, but Harry always stayed between the man and Draco, even at the risk of a few scratches. Finding the space and focus he needed, he cast one of Severus' curses, a spell that created deep knife-like wounds. He found the soft spots where the man's hauberk and gauntlets left a gap and severed the tendons in his elbows. The man dropped his sword with a grunt, and Harry knocked him to his knees with a kick. He ripped off his helm and coif and parted his head and body with one clean stroke.

Panting, he wiped the spray of blood out of his eyes and looked for Macnair. A cry from behind him had him whirling, fear shooting through his chest.

Macnair had taken advantage of their distraction to reach Draco. He had disarmed the blond and had him flat on his back, sword point to his throat.

Harry ran.

-0-

Draco whimpered, shaking as Macnair's dark gaze met his, a bloodthirsty smile on his face. His arm tingled from the strike that had disarmed him, and the tip of Macnair's sword was like ice on his throat.

"No handsome captain to save you now, is there?" Macnair taunted, drawing to point down his neck to the hollow of his throat and pressing lightly. "Such a shame. Goodbye, pretty bo-"

He broke off his a cry, weapon falling from his hand. Harry appeared behind him, drawing his sword deeply across Macnair's elbow. He did the same to the back of his knees and the man fell.

"I'd tell you to give a message to your Lord," Harry said coldly, pulling off helmet and mail hood to grip his hair tightly, "but you won't be making it back to him."

"What happened to that political scandal you were so afraid of?" Macnair smirked, and Harry backhanded him, pulling him closer by his hair.

"You tried to hurt what's mine," he said lowly, an inhuman expression on his face. "Scandal or not, I'm going to kill you now."

Vaguely, Draco noticed Black stabbing his opponent through the stomach and leaving him on the ground to come up behind Harry, but his eyes were glued to the captain and the man at his mercy.

Harry leaned Macnair back, hands at his sides at exposed. He plunged his sword in at his navel and pulled up, unseaming him. The man gave a choked cry, trying to hold his entrails inside with arms that flopped loosely on cut ligaments.

Harry threw him forward and took of his head.

"Harry," Black called gently, as though speaking to a skittish horse. Harry tensed, then relaxed when he registered who was speaking. Avoiding Black's and Draco's eyes, he stuck his sword into the hard dirt and stalked toward Black's defeated opponent, drawing his belt knife. They watched silently as Harry rolled him over with his boot, pulled off his helm and checked for a pulse. He cut the man's throat quickly and efficiently, a spray of blood splattering across his face and chest, and repeated the process with the man slumped against the tree.

He wiped his knife off on his trousers and dropped to his knees beside Draco.

"Are you alri-" Draco was cut off as Harry pulled him into a hard, desperate kiss. Draco moaned softly and ran a hand through his wild hair, uncaring of the blood caking in it. Harry bit his lip, drawing him closer with a tight grip on his shirt.

Draco tilted his head and tried to deepen the kiss, and Harry pulled back. "I'm sorry," he murmured, scrambling to his feet and looking away. "Sirius, take what's good and leave the bodies. I'll take care of them." He yanked his sword out of the ground and walked stiffly toward the house. "Excuse me."

Draco stared at the smeared blood on his hand, breathing hard. Black turned toward Macnair's body as Harry slammed the door behind him. "I've only seen Harry kill once before," he said quietly, nudging Macnair's head with his toe. "That was when I lost my hand. He gets brutal when he's protective." He gave Draco a hard look. "That man loves you with everything he has, magic knows why. Don't you dare toy with him, Draco Malfoy."

"Never." Draco met Black's gaze steadily. "I love him, too."

Black regarded him for a moment longer, then nodded sharply and turned back to Macnair's body. "I hope you aren't squeamish, my Lord."

-0-

Harry clamped down on the urge to wince as he urged Sirius' horse, Padfoot, faster, knowing Prongs would follow with Draco. He let out a sharp whistle as they approached the manor gates and his guardsmen hurried to open them, no doubt recognising his cloak. They clattered to a stop in the yard and Harry ushered Draco inside.

"Harry!" Severus stopped dead in the corridor, a look of complete shock on his face. Harry figured he must make quite the sight with his torn, blood-stained tunic and the yellowing bruises around his throat, escorting Draco Malfoy in a borrowed mix of peasant's clothing and Harry's armaments.

"Severus," Harry grunted. "Where is my Lord Malfoy?"

"Lord Malfoy is taking midday in his rooms, I believe," Severus replied warily, clearly biting back questions. "Come." He spun on a heel and led the way. Harry followed, half a step behind Draco.

The door guardsmen at Malfoy's suite fell back immediately on seeing Harry, bowing them through. Malfoy jack-knifed to his feet as they entered, falling silent in the middle of conversation with his wife. "What is meaning of this?" he demanded.

Harry dropped to one knee, head bowed and fist over his heart. He offered up a sword and sheath taken from a man's body. "Captain Macnair is dead, my Lord."

Malfoy took the spoils, turning it over in his hands. "Beheaded and eviscerated?" he asked in and indecipherable tone.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Stand, captain." Clenching his jaw, Harry moved. "Tell me what…" he trailed of as Harry stumbled, clutching his side. "Again, Harry?" he sighed. "You never have known when to stop."

"I'm fine, my Lord," Harry snapped. He wobbled again, and Malfoy caught his free arm.

"No you aren't," he countered, handing him off and turning to Severus. "Take him in to the sofa."

Harry gave up, slumping against whoever's hard body was supporting him. A pale hand rested on his hip and he realised it was Draco. "Sirius will be mad," he muttered, fuzzy with blood loss. Draco's chest bounced as he laughed faintly, and he grinned, vision going dark as he was lowered to the sofa.

Harry woke up in his room in Draco's suite, disoriented. Severus sat stiffly by his head, while Draco paced in the background. "Are you finally awake, Harry?" Severus asked, and Draco stopped pacing to watch intently.

"Yeah," Harry croaked.

"Any pain, headache, dizziness, nausea, memory loss, blind spots, or deafness?"

"Er, no," he frowned.

"Good." Severus leaned forward. "Then I can do this."

He raised a hand and slapped Harry hard across the face. "What were you thinking, you dunderhead? Riding over sixty miles at a full gallop, idiot boy! Any more damage and you could have brought your entrails in the saddlebags!" He yanked up Harry's shirt to show him the scar across his side. "Fat lot of good your protection runes did. The wound ran right through them!"

"Sev, you know I don't realise those things in combat…"

"Well you better start realising them, Harry Potter!" he cried. Harry took his hand and the physician calmed, taking a deep breath. "Draco told us all what happened, but I just want to know one thing." He squeezed Harry's hand. "Was his death worth it?"

Harry looked up, locking eyes with Draco. "It was."

"Good." He sat back and withdrew his hand, folding it in his lap. "Lucius threw Slytherin and his…companions out of the manor. He personally spoke to Flint and Wood and ordered a step-up in patrols, in case Slytherin takes revenge, but that's unlikely with four of his guard dead at your hands, including the captain."

"Right," Harry nodded. He propped himself up on his elbows, ignoring the ache in his side. "I'll just get packed, then."

"No you won't." Severus pushed him back down and stood. "You're on bed rest right now. If you heal quickly, maybe I'll let you leave tomorrow, but don't push it." With that, he swept from the room, dark robes swirling behind him.

Draco sat at the foot of the bed, pulling Harry's feet into his lap. He shucked Harry's boots and peeled off his stockings. "So your assignment to me is over," he said, and Harry hummed. "You know, Severus never said which bed you have to stay in."

"Get to the point, Draco."

Draco took a deep breath. "I heard you talking to Black, that day he woke us up." His thumb stroked softly over Harry's ankle. "You're wrong, you know. There can be a future for us. My father's known you almost your whole life-"

"Your father's owned me for almost my whole life," Harry broke in. "It's a little different. Maybe if my father had acknowledged me, maybe if I had never been sold, maybe then we might have a chance."

"What says we don't have a chance now?" Draco demanded, rising to his feet.

Harry yanked his shirt over his head, turning around and bowing his shoulders to display the slave's mark between his shoulder blades. "This says." Draco's warm, dry fingertips traced over the grey, slightly fuzzy lines of his family crest. "Do you know why a slave is always tattooed?" Draco's fingers trembled on his skin. "Because it's permanent. It never goes away. It means that, wherever I go, even as a free man, I will always be barely more than property. Slaves who are licens don't keep shops or tenant land. I'm worthless outside Wiltshire, because I'll always carry marks of servitude to your family."

"'Marks'?" Draco caught. "More than just this?"

Harry turned back around and eased the waistband of his trousers and breeches over his left hip, exposing a pair of sword-shaped brands. Draco's hand hovered over them, afraid to touch the scars. "Mark of the guard. Everyone is branded after they take their oaths."

"Branded?!"

"Yeah. Hurts like nothing you can imagine and smells like roast pork," Harry grinned, but Draco just stared at him incredulously.

"This one is new," he murmured, tracing the outline of the larger sword in the air above it. The old brand was a basic short sword, but the new one was a stylised version of his captain's sword, about half as large again as the first mark.

"I became captain," Harry shrugged. "I got my licens and that brand at the same time."

Draco buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck. "I love you, Harry." Harry froze.

"Draco, no," he tried to pull Draco off, but the blond swung a leg over and straddled him, holding him there.

"You said you didn't know how I feel about you," Draco said, cupping his face between his hands. "Well, I love you. Now you know. You asked me what I wanted from you, back when I hadn't figured it out yet. I want you, next to me, for the rest of our lives. I want there to be a future for us."

"Don't do this, Draco," Harry pleaded, pushing the noble off his lap insistently. "Don't do this to me. Love or not, there's no way your family would ever approve a relationship between us. Your father will find you a nice nobleman to marry, and I'll swear my life and sword to you until I die or you see fit to relieve me from duty. That's what's going to happen, and nothing you or I can do will change it, alright. Just…stop this."

"Give me something, Harry," Draco begged. "I know how you feel about me, and you know how I feel. Stay with me tonight, just one more time, and give me something to hold onto."

Harry closed his eyes, leaning forward and resting his head on Draco's shoulder. "Alright."

-0-

Draco ushered Harry into his room ahead of him, watching the captain's careful steps. He sat the man down on the edge of the mattress and eased his trousers off. Harry did the same for his boots and stockings, still the same he had borrowed from Harry, as he dealt with his own belt. He was still wearing Harry's shirt and hauberk, and Harry ran a hand down his mail-covered chest as he took off his tunic.

"This is huge on you," he chuckled. He tugged on the shoulder seams, laying nearly at his elbows.

"We haven't all trained since we were five, you know," Draco scowled, but there wasn't any heat in it.

Harry just laughed again and pushed it over his head before tugging him down beside him. "I can't do much, or Severus will have me impaled in the yard," he murmured, nuzzling into Draco's hair, "but I'll stay. Tonight."

Draco manoeuvred them into lying down, and Harry laid an arm across his waist, kissing him. It was soft and gentle, not like any of the hard, desperate kisses they'd shared before. Draco shivered as Harry stroked rough fingertips down his spine and pulled him closer. His tongue begged entrance to Draco's mouth, stroking sensually over his own, and he rolled them, kneeling on either side of Draco's hips.

Draco arched as Harry trailed slow kisses down his neck, those rough fingers playing across his ribs and stomach. He reached up to tangle one hand in wild black locks and pulled Harry's mouth back to meet his. He put his other arm across Harry's back, trying to pull the captain's hips down into contact with his own.

"Ow." Harry broke off with a grunt. He rested their foreheads together, panting slightly. "No, that's not happening."

"Does it hurt?"

Harry rolled over on his good side. "Yeah, it's Severus' method," he explained. "He'll heal a wound partway, then close it and let it finish naturally. I guess the muscle is still split under there." He snorted. "Evil man, he's taking revenge for what he calls my 'reckless heroism.'"

Draco rolled on his side to face him. "I still can't believe you rode sixty miles with that hole in your side." He traced the scar lightly and followed the lines of the ruined lion tattoo. Harry pulled him against his chest, tucking the blond's head under his chin. "I love the way you smell," Draco murmured, pressing his nose against the hollow of Harry's throat.

"What, sweat and dirt?" Harry wondered.

Draco shook his head. "No, you always smell clean. Like some sort of herbs."

Harry laughed. "I've been around Severus too long if I smell like his potion herbs." He kissed Draco's hair. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just stay," Draco whispered, and Harry tilted his chin up to kiss him again, long and slow.

"Talk to me?" he asked.

So Draco talked. He told Harry about the life they could have together, how no one could object to their relationship because everyone loved Harry. Even his short time with Harry had changed him, made him realise there were real people looking up to him and depending on him. He imagined finishing a meeting with his advisors and meeting Harry in the gardens, full of the summertime life, or sitting together, grey in their hair, and watching the next class young recruits being trained, year after year.

Harry fell asleep while Draco spoke, his breathing deepening and arms relaxing, but Draco didn't mind. He just burrowed deeper into Harry's warmth and closed his eyes.

-0-

Harry woke slowly, feeling the lingering ache of the previous day's fight in his muscles. He was curled around Draco's still-sleeping form, nose tickled by white-blond hair. Night was gone, daylight streaming through the windows, but Harry tightened his arm across Draco's stomach, not wanting to let him go. Draco stirred, waking just as slowly as Harry had.

"Ahem."

Blinking blearily, Harry raised his head to see Severus coming through the door from the room he had left Harry in. "Good morning," he greeted, yawning.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I see."

"Severus!" Draco squeaked, pulling the covers over his head. Severus raised an eyebrow, and Harry snorted.

"Are those mine?" he asked, pointing to the bundle of clothes in Severus' hands. "Am I off bed rest?"

"Yes and yes," the physician replied, handing over the bundle. "I washed them. Your various armaments are still in the other room." Harry nodded and threw back the covers, uncaring of his near-nudity. Severus was a physician, he'd seen it all before. In fact, having raised him from a boy, he'd seen all Harry's before.

The man followed him into the other room, closing the door behind him. "I know my place, Sev," he said, sitting on the bed the pull on his woollen stockings.

"That has never troubled me," Severus told him. "You are many things, Harry Potter, but not insubordinate. You are reckless, powerful, protective, and almost painfully cheerful at times, but you have never thought yourself above your station." He looked pointedly over Harry's shoulder, indicating his back. "If anything, you think yourself unworthy."

"I do," Harry agreed, tugging his shirt over his head and tucking it into his trousers. "That's why I will be returning to my regular duties today. If my Lord Heir requires a personal guard, I shall be happy to recommend a suitable guardsman."

Severus looked over him. His face was blank and unreadable, but his eyes were almost sad. "You are in love with him."

"I am," Harry admitted. "And he fancies himself in love with me. He asked me to pretend, just once, but I can't lie in daylight."

"He will marry soon," Severus said quietly. "Lucius has already begun the search."

Harry's hand tightened reflexively on the tunic in it and he forced it to relax. "I wish him all possible happiness, then," he replied tonelessly.

Severus squeezed his shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort from a man who liked neither comfort nor contact. "You're a good man, Harry. Possibly too good."

He left, and Harry pulled the tunic over his head. He finished dressing in a distracted silence. He needed to distance himself from Draco, to put them back into their proper roles. He was Captain Potter, and Draco was his Lord Heir.

A knock sounded on the door between their rooms. "Enter!" Harry called, inspecting his sword. His fight with Mcnair's men, short as it was, had left dents and scratches on the blade.

"Harry?" Draco asked tentatively, opening the door.

"My Lord," Harry responded blandly, and Draco's face fell. He sheathed his sword and turned, dropping into a bow. "It has been an honour to guard you, my Lord."

"Harry, please…" Draco reached for him, but Harry leaned back, still bent. The noble's hand lowered shakily, leaving the space between them. "You…have served well," he whispered roughly.

"Thank you, my Lord," Harry replied, straightening. He stared blankly forward, not meeting Draco's eyes, his pose one of relaxed attention.

"I…" Draco choked back a noise that might have been a sob and dropped his eyes to the floor. "Dismissed, Captain Potter."