Merlin, Give Me Strength

by AelysAlthea

Draco retreated after the war. Despite the Wizarding world turning a smiling, forgiving face to any and all with a black name and stained reputation, he wanted none of it. All Draco wanted was to be left alone. Unfortunately for him, Harry Potter doesn't want to leave him alone. And more than that, he finds himself with the most unlikely of house guests that he just can't seem...

11. Chapter 11 - This Foolish Dance

WARNING: this chapter contains depictions of sexual situations. If you don't like it, please don't read, because you WON'T like it.

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Chapter 11: This Foolish Dance

Draco stared down at Harry. And Harry stared right back at Draco.

It was a battle of wills if ever there had been one.

Barely five minutes from the ministry, barely moments after Draco had dragged Harry through his front door, and they were already at a stalemate. Draco should have expected no less. This was he and Harry he was considering. Of course they would be butting heads. Friendship be damned, they were always the ones who best managed to get under one another's skin.

Draco slowly leant back against the edge of the table, body half turned towards Harry. He wouldn't sit; he didn't think he could, not with the tension running through him. Harry seemed to be regretting his decision to do so himself, his leg jiggling slightly with nervous energy and creaking the chair slightly with his movement. Or perhaps he wasn't nervous. If anything he looked determined.

"I'm not saying anything until you give me some answers," Draco repeated his statement of not three minutes past. Even to his own ears the words sounded the exact intonation as before.

Harry blinked slowly. "And I'm not giving you any until you give me some of your own." Harry mimicked Draco in the repetition of his own phrase, but instead of falling into stoic silence this time continued. "And, unfortunately for you, I hold one over your head."

Narrowing his eyes, Draco slowly folded his arms across his chest. "Do you now?"

Harry nodded decisively, in utter certainty. "You took an Oath this morning. You need my permission to discuss certain things." The smile he gave Draco was small and if not quite smug, it was a near thing.

Draco clicked his tongue. In spite of himself he had to admire Harry's approach. He'd certainly come a ways in developing his cunning streak over the years. Adolescent Harry wouldn't have even considered such manipulation. To his frustration, Draco actually felt a flicker of satisfaction. He had to smother it before he unconsciously let it show.

"You know far too much about my Oath," he grumbled instead, deliberately diverting his gaze from Harry's. He didn't want Harry to see that he was gradually folding into acceptance of the inevitable. "The Oaths are supposed to be confidential."

From his periphery, Draco saw Harry nod. "Yeah, well, when those Oaths concern me, I think I have a right to know."

"Presumptuous of you."

"Entirely."

Draco snorted. "At least you admit it."

Harry nodded his head shortly. "Do we have an understanding then?"

Draco glanced towards him sidelong. "I'm sure I don't know exactly what you refer to."

"Don't be obtuse, Draco. Start spilling."

"Regarding what?"

Harry sighed. He seemed to deflate, one elbow falling onto the tale and his chin dropping atop his curled fist. "You're a pain in the arse, you know that?" When Draco only nodded his head in acceptance of the compliment, he continued. "What the hell were you doing out there in the field, Draco? For the second time, at that. Honestly? Once wasn't enough for you? Krax made you take an Oath the first time. You don't think that was a bit of an indication that you shouldn't be there?

Draco shifted in his lean against the table. He had known that Harry would ask that, but some part of him had desperately hoped that he wouldn't. It was embarrassing, to say the least, not to mention difficult to answer given his sworn silence. Draco hadn't realised how embarrassed he was at his own actions until his confusion and frustration had wilted enough for him to catch a glimpse of it.

It was embarrassing. Embarrassment had long since replaced the anger that had gripped Draco over the past weeks. He'd charged headlong into a dangerous situation with the intention of ensuring Harry's safety and, while he would never regret his actions, especially given the fix he'd found Harry in, it was still humiliating. It was, if nothing else, a desperate and thoughtless act of the infatuated. How could Draco possibly willingly explain that to Harry? It would make him seem incredibly pathetic, exposing a vulnerability that he was not prepared for even his mother to witness.

Sniffing, adopting a casual slouch, he shrugged. "Of course I know that. I'm not an idiot. I've been warned away from there."

"Then why…?"

"Obviously," Draco sighed, forcing the exasperation into his tone, "because I was concerned you'd wind up getting yourself killed."

Harry was silent for a moment. "You were worried about me?"

"Concerned," Draco emphasised. "Yes."

"But why?"

Eyebrows rising, Draco fixed him with an incredulous stare. "What do you mean why? I was under the impression we were friends." Even the word tasted sour on Draco's tongue, a lie to himself. He'd never wanted to just be 'friends' with Harry.

Harry shook his head slowly, but more in confusion than denial. "But you've been avoiding me for weeks now."

Draco blinked. And blinked again, his own confusion rising. "I've been avoiding you?"

Harry nodded. "Since the night we went out for drinks. You've been –"

"No, I haven't been avoiding you. You're the one who's avoiding me." Draco almost hissed as he pushed the words through his teeth. Harry's obliviousness was utterly infuriating.

Again Harry shook his head. "No, I haven't. I didn't want to approach you because you just seemed so… nonchalant."

"Nonchalant?"

"We basically had a fight, Draco. A fight between friends, but it was still a fight. Or am I the only one who thought that?"

He wasn't. Draco agreed whole-heartedly. They hadn't exchanged harsh words or blows or reached any conclusion of such that they were officially off speaking terms like pubescent girls having a tiff. But it was definitely a fight of sorts. That much Draco knew. Only, he'd assumed that it was because Harry was angry with him. Or felt betrayed. Or had realised he didn't want what Draco wanted and so felt too awkward to be around him anymore.

"You were angry at me," Draco said slowly. He kept his head slightly bowed but peered up at Harry intently with a sidelong stare. "I'm not entirely sure why, but you were angry at me. And personally, I was concerned for my wellbeing. Your anger is infamous around the DMLE, you know."

That wasn't entirely true, but Harry didn't have to know that. In actuality, Draco was scared. And confused. More scared and confused that he'd lost Harry's friendship and yet didn't fully understand why than he was concerned for his own skin. But he could never voice those fears aloud. Never.

"Of course I was angry at you," Harry replied, waving a hand as though to brush aside Draco's uncertainty. "We just kissed and within minutes you'd picked up another bloke and took him home with you. What the hell was I supposed to think?"

"What were you supposed to think?" Draco parroted incredulously. He could feel his affront shifting in a gradual rise to anger. "You? What about me? After you'd basically shoved your tongue down my throat, you up and fled from the scene. I assumed you realised you wanted nothing more to do with me."

"It wasn't like that." Harry's cheeks flushed an impressive red, but Draco was unsure if from anger or embarrassment. "After what you said, I just assumed… I mean, it sounded like you… and then you just went up to the kid and took him home, so I thought… What the hell was I supposed to think?"

His temples pounding with his heartbeat, a skipping beat that echoed loudly in his ears, Draco strove for an unattainable calm. "You're not making any sense."

Harry sighed in a huff of frustration. He ran a hand hastily through his hair. "I mean, Draco, that I'd literally just said that I wasn't looking for any sort of… casual relationship. Then you kissed me and said we could bloody well be friends with benefits." Another tug of fingers through hair. "And then you went and took the kid home with you. What the hell am I supposed to think?"

Draco's heartbeat still pounded deafeningly loudly. His skin still felt flushed and anger still bubbled. But throughout it all, like a dampening blanket, understanding dawned. And it all suddenly clicked into place. "You mean you thought I just wanted a physical relationship?"

"Don't you?" The colour was still high in Harry's cheeks, yet he appeared more on the edge of desperation than anger. His hand raked again and again through the side of his hair, mussing it even more than usual. He avoided Draco's gaze, eyes fixed upon the table top. "Don't you?"

Slowly half-turning towards Harry, Draco felt surprise replace, which rapidly faded into wonder. Perhaps faster than it ever had before, Draco felt his anger fade. He slowly shook his head, any embarrassment he might have felt over expressing his feelings similarly faded. It hardly even seemed embarrassing at all anymore. "No. No, that's not what I want. I won't deny that it's a big part of it, but what I want is certainly more than just sex."

Just sex. Merlin, Draco had never thought to hear himself say those words aloud. Nor even to think them. But they were entirely true. And he was glad for his momentary courage in speaking them when Harry slowly turned his gaze towards him, glancing up at Draco with wary hope. "Bullshit."

Draco huffed in surprise as much as amusement. "It's not."

"Yes, it is. You're bullshitting me."

"I'm not –"

"There's no way you're not –"

"Harry." Draco fully turned towards him, placing palms flat on the table and leaning over him. "I am entirely honest. I want nothing more than to pursue a… relationship with you."

It didn't sound right, sounded stilted and too formal and entirely unnerving. Yet from the expression on Harry's face, he didn't think so. His chin had lifted and he stared at Draco with wide, unblinking eyes. His mouth had fallen open slightly, the picture of surprise. "You… really mean that?"

Draco shrugged one shoulder casually. The need to fall into sarcasm, into jibing, to relieve the tension in the air was all consuming. "Surely you know me well enough to know that I always speak with utter sincerity."

Snorting, Harry's expression immediately fell into exasperated amusement. "Yeah, right. Like when you said at the Falcon's Nest that you wanted a 'friends with benefits' relationship?"

"I never said that. I said that I've never been one much for relationships."

"And aren't you?"

Draco shook his head. "Never before. I've never wanted one till now."

A smile drew across Harry's face. "And now?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Feigned ignorance doesn't suit you, Harry."

"You didn't answer my question."

Sighing, Draco dropped his chin. It was as much in a dramatic show of his own exasperation as it was to hide the rising flush in his cheeks. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Maybe, but I still want you to say it." Draco could almost hear the laughter just restrained in Harry's voice.

With another sigh, Draco closed his eyes for a moment. He had to keep them closed to confess. "Yes. Yes, it is. I want that very much."

Harry did laugh then, but it wasn't in amusement. It sounded almost relieved, a sound of pure joy. Draco had to glance towards him, just to see the expression that accompanied it. It was worth the potential humiliation of revealing his own embarrassment. Harry's face was the picture of delight, smile stretched widely and eyes closed as though revelling in the feeling. "Fantastic…"

It took a moment for Draco to gather his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he pointedly raised an eyebrow. "I'm waiting."

Harry flickered his gaze up to Draco's. "For what?"

"If I have to undergo such a horrifying revelation, then surely you should –"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you daft prat. Of course I do."

Draco had to pause to bite back his own immediate desire to grin like a fool. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, from the way you bloody well attacked me, and then avoided me for weeks, I'd have assumed quite the opposite."

"We've been through this, I wasn't the one avoiding you." Then Harry frowned. "Wait, attacked you?"

"Yes," Draco said, his hand rising to pat at the phantom scars of the scratches on the back of his head. "Quite viciously, in fact."

"What? When did I –"

"Oh, come on, Potter, don't be an idiot now. When you were –" Draco stuttered to a halt, catching himself just in time. With a wavering inhalation, he drew back from Harry to settle himself on the edge of the table once more.

Shit. That was close. The Oath still stood, and he didn't fancy becoming riddled with pus-filled and aching boils for a slip of the tongue. He pressed his lips together tightly.

Harry frowned. "When did I…?" He repeated. Draco widened his eyes pointedly. There was a moment more of confusion before understanding thankfully cleared his expression. "Oh. Right. Sorry, I guess I should probably…."

"That might be best," Draco agreed.

"I'm not sure of the exact words I'm supposed to use to give you permission to speak against your Oath," Harry muttered, quirking his lips and considering. "I've never had to do that before, you know."

"I doubt it matters so long as it is all encompassing. I don't fancy being tripped up and winding up in St. Mungo's for an induced malady."

Harry's lips quirked in a smirk this time, but he blessedly didn't say anything more on the subject. "Right. Well, how about this: I give my permission for Draco Malfoy to converse in a verbal, mental and written manner with myself, Harry Potter, pertaining exclusively to the issue of my Animagus form." He paused expectantly. "Do you think that should cover it?"

Draco paused himself, waiting. He didn't feel any different for the 'permission', no tell-tale tingle over his skin nor flood of understanding that, yes, he could mention Harry's merlin form without repercussions. "I'm not sure."

"Just give it a try."

Scowling, Draco felt his lip curl. "It's not your skin that's on the line here."

Harry smirked. "Stop being such a princess, Draco. It'll work. Probably."

How could Draco back out of it now? After such a taunt, even followed by his very noticeable uncertainty, Draco was almost obliged to attempt it. "Alright." He swallowed around the warning muteness on his tongue. "When you bloody nearly ripped my head off when you were in your bird form."

There was a pause. Both Draco and Harry waited, breaths held uncertainly. Draco tried to ignored the scrutiny with which Harry studied him though it was a little difficult to overlook the very pointed scanning of his skin. "I… think it worked."

"Do you have any knowledge of how long it takes to come into effect?" Draco asked.

Harry shook his head. "No idea. No one I know has been stupid enough to try and test it."

"Thank you for your glowing compliment," Draco scowled, though there was little heat to his words. "And you're changing the topic. Explain, if you would."

"Why I attacked you? I thought that was obvious." Harry frowned, his good-humour immediately disappearing into disgruntlement. "Less than ten minutes after one of the best kisses I've had in my life, you picked up the nearest bloke you could find and took him home to shag him."

Striving to ignore the repeated best kisses, best kisses ringing in his head, Draco pursed his lips. "Well, can you blame me?"

"Believe me, I can and I do. What the hell, Draco?"

"Well," Draco attempted, but even to himself it sounded like a pathetic splutter. "You'd just rejected me. I needed an outlet."

"So you decided to go and fuck the nearest thing on two legs?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I would never touch just anyone. I'm very definitely interested solely in male specimens, thank you."

For all of Draco's wit, Harry didn't appear amused. He glared up at Draco resentfully. "It's not funny, Draco, you bastard."

And in that instant, Draco knew it wasn't. He sincerely regretted taking Kevyn home, and not for the fact that it had amounted to nothing. Harry was very obviously hurt by the fact. And knowing that much was still a struggle for Draco to comprehend until he considered it in reverse roles. If he'd been in Harry's place, seen Harry casually pick up just anyone right after a confusing and potentially hopeful encounter that had ended even more confusingly, how would he feel?

Pissed off, for one. Angry. Indignant. Horrified, even. Harry was his, he shouldn't… he wasn't allowed to…

Well, I suppose that answers my question.

Steeling himself for the following – he would never get used to it, he was certain – Draco took a deep breath. "I know. And I… I'm sorry. I regret my actions." At Harry's continued sceptical glare, he leant towards him in an attempt to impress his sincerity. "I'm honest. I do regret it."

"Because it didn't work out?" Harry muttered accusingly. "Or because you got sprung? Because I saw you?

"No," Draco replied with a sharp shake of his head. "Because it hurt you. I never intended that, Harry. Never."

There must have been something in his tone, something Draco hadn't quite intended but resounded anyway, for the glare slowly faded from Harry's face to be replaced by wary consideration. "You really mean that?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"I think you just did," Harry murmured. A small smile touched his lips briefly. Draco felt a tidal wave of relief course through him. Another hex dodged. Thank Salazar.

Then, in an effort to avoid further putting his foot in it, Draco abruptly strove to redirect the conversation. "Alright, enough questioning from you. My turn."

Harry nodded his head slowly. "I can see I'm going to regret giving you permission, aren't I?"

"Damn right you are."

Harry snorting. A moment later he took a fortifying breath, steeling himself. "Alright. Hit me with it."

"Firstly." Draco held up one finger. "Have you been spying on me in bird form?"

Blinking at him in surprise for a moment, Harry abruptly broke into a startled bark of incredulous laughter. "That's your first question?"

"Just answer me."

"Are you asking if I've watched you shagging any other blokes?"

"That is, indeed, included yet not exclusively what I refer to."

Shaking his head, Harry pressed a fist over his mouth. It did little to stifle the chuckles that shook his shoulders. "No, Draco. I don't use it to spy on you. Certainly not to watch you shagging other blokes. Hell, I wasn't even sure you swung that way till you kissed me. Besides, you should have already known that; you never take people home with you. That's why it was so surprising with Kevyn." He paused thoughtfully at the mention of the boy whose name Draco had all but forgotten. "Besides, whenever I was anywhere near you as a merlin I made sure you invited me into your house."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Yes, you did at that, didn't you?"

Harry dropped his hand to reveal his hidden grin. It was disarming and certainly succeeded in lessening Draco's affront at the imposition. "Well, it's cold outside, you know?"

"Why do you even do that?"

"Do what?"

"Visit me. Every Friday for… I don't even know how long. And your injuries? Why do you come to me?" Draco paused, frowning in reminiscence. "Speaking of, why did you even come to me in the first place?" Draco hardly considered himself the most hospitable person, or the most generous. What possibly possessed Harry to come to him of all people he knew not?

Harry loosed a long, heavy sigh. He dragged a slow hand through his hair once more, but it seemed more weary and resigned than awkward. "Wow. That goes back far."

"You're telling me." Draco was only faintly aware of just how much that understanding floored him. That Jack was Harry and had been Harry the entire time he'd known him. It was sitting detachedly on the edge of his consciousness and he couldn't quite bring himself to accept it. It was almost too big to consider, and until that point Draco didn't think he'd quite realised just how much of a significant part Jack had become in his life.

Harry sighed once more. "Perhaps I should start from the start."

"That might be best."

"Right." Harry nodded, licking his lips. "Yeah. Right. So… God, I don't even know. Right, so a couple of years ago – it was in the early days of the Elites – we were on a mission. We were still getting our sea legs, me and the squad. There were only seven of us at that stage; the rest came along about a month or two after.

"We were out Ipswich way on this mission. Closer to Woodbridge, actually. It was a bit of a nasty one. The group we were looking into were the aggressive kind and we got into a bit of a fix. Unfortunately for us – the three of us who went – they had Animagus detectors around the area." Draco pulled a face in commiseration at the mention of the instruments. They'd become increasingly favoured on the market over the course of the last few years. "Well, as soon as me and my team got within firing distance they attacked us. We managed to avoid the worst of the spells but, since I'm a flier, when I was knocked from the sky it… hurt."

Draco winced in sympathy. He had a moment to consider how much had changed over the years, that the thought of a bird – or more specifically his bird – falling from the sky would cause him almost physical pain.

Harry noticed and gave him a small smile before dropping his eyes and losing himself in his retelling once more. "I couldn't fly all too well, but I had to get away from the area. The wizards we were tracking set their own trackers on our tails so it was flee and avoid them or face the possibility of a confrontation.

"My team managed to scatter. Spatzy and Burgh, they're not fliers so I don't think they were hit quite so hard. It's a general rule, though; if trackers target us in Animagus form we split. Preserve the secret of the squad and all, you know?

"I was pretty out of it, though. Flew in just about any direction that was 'away'. I can't remember getting to Smittson's View. The next thing I knew I was waking up in the middle of the road with you leaning over the top of me and a wand pointed at my face."

Harry shook his head, that small smile settling comfortably on his face. "There's not really much you can do when you injure yourself as an Animagus. It's either try and shift back into your human form, which is often pretty hard seeing as the injuries can be localised or specific to the animal itself. There's sometimes no telling how that injury can spread or exacerbate with the transformation.

"The other option is to just keep on as an animal until you're all fixed up." He shrugged, almost sheepishly. "I've always had a weirdly strong affinity with my merlin form. I don't know why but Ron thinks it's because of the flying. I don't know, but at the beginning I actually found it harder to change back into being human than the other way around. If I'm injured, I usually get someone to patch me up when I'm still a bird and then transform back. It works… better."

"And that's where I came in," Draco murmured. He didn't realise he was going to speak until the words were out of his mouth

Tilting his head upwards towards him, Harry's smile widened briefly, fondly. "Yeah. That's you. I was surprised, actually. I mean, we'd never been even close to friends in the past. More the opposite. I'd have expected you to just kill me instead."

Draco shrugged. He wasn't going to offer the reminder that he had considered it. Considered it long and hard, in fact. Harry likely knew that anyway. Even as an Animagus he would have been able to hear and understand the words Draco had exchanged with Millicent. "Well, it's not like I knew who you were. If I had, I might have acted differently."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he dropped his chin once more. "No, I don't think you would have," he muttered, more to himself than to Draco. Draco could only agree; Harry was right. Even when he'd first happened upon Jack Draco hadn't hated Harry. He'd been… confused by him. By his actions in the war and afterwards, with Draco's trial. Not friendly, no, but that hatred he'd once harboured had certainly died.

He drew his attention back to Harry when he started speaking once more. "I was wary at first, you know. I didn't know what to expect. I kept thinking all through that first week that you'd just change your mind and decide to kill me. But then you didn't, and I began to see you acting really… differently to how you used to. It was strange. Really weird, actually. Sort of like you weren't wearing your pompous bravado as much."

"I don't wear 'pomp' or 'bravado'," Draco sniffed disdainfully. "I assure you, Harry, my character is as horrendous as you have always considered it to be."

Harry shook his head with a smile, evidently not convinced at all. "Right. Well, whatever. After a few days, I couldn't help myself. I just had to push it a little bit, to see how much of how you acted was really you and how much was just another act."

"You little bastard," Draco scowled. He could very clearly remember that first week with Jack, the little annoying jabs that seemed to pick at his sanity. The persistent attempts to push him just a little further with his presumptuous occupation of Draco's house. "I should have guessed it was you from the start. You always did know how to push me the wrong way."

"You never would have guessed," Harry disregarded. "Not in a million years." His smile faded slightly as he turned his attention retrospectively once more. "I stayed with you till I was all patched up. Then, figuring I'd terrorised you enough, I took myself away. That was supposed to be the last of it."

"Obviously it wasn't," Draco supplied.

"Obviously. One of the siblings of the Ipswich wizards became active a couple of months after her brothers was detained. We were sent out again, and I had another… accident. That girl, she was a lot fiercer than her brothers, and there was only one of her."

"I always wondered how you ended up with so many injuries," Draco said, shaking his head. "And bad injuries, too. I suppose this explains it."

Harry only nodded in reply. "I found myself in a fix again, and it just seemed natural to come to you. I didn't really have much of a choice and you were close; it was that or wait until one of my fellow squad members or the Field Aurors came and found me, and the Ipswich girl could have found me by then too."

"So you wound up on my doorstep."

"On your windowsill, yeah." Harry shrugged, almost disregarding it, though his discomforted shift suggested he wasn't as casual about his presumption as would be otherwise suggested. "It just became sort of habit after that. I couldn't help myself."

"What, you enjoyed terrorising me?" Draco glared at him, but couldn't deny he was satisfied for the fact. If Jack – no, if Harry hadn't come back… how different his life would be.

Harry laughed in genuine amusement, rubbing his forehead abashedly. "Yeah, I guess. But besides that, I sort of liked seeing you not being your public Draco. It felt like I was seeing a side of you that no one else did. I mean, you didn't even act like that around Bulstrode when she showed up that first time."

Draco shifted uncomfortably, deliberately avoiding looking in Harry's direction. "How a man acts in solitude is of no concern to the greater public."

"I know," Harry said with another small smile. "And that's what made it nice to see. I think it was probably that which made me actually start to like you."

Quashing down the rising thrill of satisfaction at Harry's words, Draco lifted an eyebrow. "You know, I always wondered at your abrupt change of attitude when we first met again."

"At that little coffee shop on Mahogany Street?"

"Mm," Draco nodded. "You seemed so different in your approach towards me. Almost like you didn't hate me at all and never had."

"I never hated you, Draco –"

"Oh, I object to that."

"No, seriously. I mean, you were an annoying tosser, sure, but hate?" Harry shook his head decisively. "I've hated very few people in my life, Draco. I can tell you that, when compared to them, you don't even sit on the same radar."

"I object to that, you know. Why was I not as hated as these anonymous individuals? What did I do wrong?"

Harry chuckled and actually reached forwards to swat at Draco like a fly. "What did you do right, you mean?" He smiled fondly at Draco in a way that was far too intimate. Far more so than any he had ever spared for him before. It sent another thrill through Draco. "I think I just told you that. You're not as horrible a person as you seem to believe yourself."

"I doubt I'm quite as altruistic as you seem to think either, however."

"You, altruistic?" Harry shook his head. "I don't think I'd ever use that word to describe you, Draco."

"Too right," Draco agreed. He wasn't sure if he was satisfied or dejected by Harry's suggestion. He didn't want to be seen as altruistic, not in the slightest, but any favouring of his character that Harry felt was to be strived for. "None of that 'for the greater good' crap."

"Except when it comes to taking in injured birds."

Draco cringed. "I have often regretted acting as I did."

"I know you have," Harry said. His tone was still, oddly enough, fond.

"I don't like animals. At all."

"Yeah, I know that too."

"You have on idea how many times I wanted to just Silencio my window, ignore you and let you bleed out on the sill." Draco recrossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the fact that his shoulders hunched themselves in an almost defensive fashion. His posture could be construed as objectionable. Even sullen. Either would be better than awkward nervousness.

Harry leant further into the table, his hand reaching forward until it almost rest against the side of Draco's hip. "Yes, but you didn't. Not once. Whenever I knocked, you always opened it."

"You're making this sound a lot more romantic than it actually was," Draco muttered with a pointed glance. "You were a bird."

"Even so. I'm talking more about your character than any development of our relationship." Damn Harry for so causally throwing around the words 'our relationship'. That got Draco to thinking far too distractedly. "You didn't have to let me in. You didn't have to heal me, or let me stay –"

"Millicent threatened me."

"Regardless. If you truly didn't want to, Draco, you wouldn't have let me stay. Just like you didn't have to read up on the healing arts – veterinarian healing arts, at that – or about merlins in general. And you didn't have to come home every Friday night and stay up late to let me in. Or leave me some dinner. Or specifically buy Italian because I like it."

"I hate meatballs," Draco grumbled. It was all he could think to say. When Harry listed all of it like that, it did almost sound like a lovers infatuation. Draco had thought Jack was just a bird. How twisted did that make him, that he would act in such a way? And it certainly made him sound altruistic.

Harry reached forwards until he was just lightly touching Draco's hip. Immediately, every nerve in Draco's being seemed to focus on that point of contact. "You know, I think I gathered that. I never really understood why you got them in the first place."

"Neither did I," Draco admitted. His body was frozen, taut in his attempt to keep his gaze from drifting to his hip where Harry's fingers rested. Slowly, he turned his gaze towards Harry's and was met stare for stare once more. It was almost jarring how different that stare was than the one they'd shared upon first entering his house. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Slowly, regrettably, Harry retracted his fingers until they dropped from the table into his lap. His chin dropped with them, eyes turning downcast to regard the table top. "I… I don't know."

"You could have just said something. It would have been a better way of finding out, I think." Draco paused, feeling the full weight of what he hadn't realised was a sense of betrayal well up within him. "I thought we were friends."

"We were. Are. Am. I don't know." Harry shook his head in a jerk and, though his head remained bowed, Draco could make out a frown furrowing his brow. "I… I'm not good with that sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?"

He waved a wafting hand in an incongruous gesture. "With this. Talking. Admitting secrets and all that."

"You seem to have done a pretty good job of it so far," Draco considered aloud. He was surprised to find his voice was almost soothing. Draco had never strived to be soothing in his entire life.

"You've no idea how many times I've practiced this conversation over and over in my head. It's basically scripted."

"Really?" Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I wouldn't have picked that. You sound remarkably natural." Except that a moment later, something niggled in the back of Draco's head. A memory, a thought, mirroring Harry's words almost perfectly. How Harry did almost sound 'scripted' at times. Draco had never truly actually considered that.

"I've had a lot of practice," Harry mumbled. He seemed almost to withdraw into himself, shoulders hunching slightly and chin tucking further into his chest. He tone was self-deprecating and for the first time in perhaps ever Draco saw Harry Potter as vulnerable. He seemed… small. Almost diminutive as he withdrew into his seat. The only time Draco could recall him ever seeming even remotely similar he'd thought Harry was dead as the half-giant Hagrid had carried him from the Forbidden Forest, trailing behind the Dark Lord. Draco felt physically nauseous at that memory, so the image Harry presented was not favourable in the slightest.

It took an effort – Draco wasn't used to such displays of intimacy – but with a mental nudge, a mental shove, he forced himself to reach out and touch his fingers just slightly upon Harry's shoulder. Harry didn't lift his head but Draco saw him glance sideways at his proffered touch. He wondered if Harry felt as electrified by such simple point of contact as he did.

"You're not all that great in social situations, are you?"

"You think?" Harry asked, his tone almost scolding, but Draco got the distinct impression it was more directed towards himself than towards Draco. "I've basically had two solid, true friends for the majority of my life until you came along."

"Which would make me the third," Draco blurted out before he could help himself. He didn't know why he said that, but it actually satisfied him, such simple knowledge. He was Harry's third real friend. Ever.

The weight of that didn't fully sink in until several moments of silence had passed. Three friends? Seriously? Draco knew that the Golden Trio of Gryffindor had been fairly exclusive, but no other friends? Not even before attending Hogwarts? Draco didn't have all that many himself, but that was more a deliberate dismissal of such relationships on his part. Harry sounded nothing if not longing at the prospect of friendship.

That was definitely something Draco was determined to get to the bottom of.

At Harry's continued silence, and as Draco slowly joined the dots in his mind, he spoke once more. "You never told me how you really felt about me. Harry, how long have you had feelings for me?"

"Define feelings," Harry muttered. The almost aggressive tone of his voice was very different to his closed countenance.

Swallowing, struggling to voice his own, Draco took a deep breath. Here goes. Sink or swim, Draco, but you've no choice but to dive in. "I'm talking about love. You love me, don't you?" A pause. "Harry?"

Harry shoulder was rigid beneath Draco's fingers. Only the body warmth seeping through his wrinkled Auror robes indicated he was anything but stone. "Love…" He whispered so quietly it was almost inaudible. He sounded as terrified as Draco felt.

At another attempted swallow, Draco continued. His voice was husky. "For me, I'd say it's been years. I don't know exactly when it happened, or when I first acknowledged it, but…" He attempted to clear his throat once more but couldn't bring himself to look at Harry any longer. Even when he knew Harry had finally raised his gaze. "Yes. Probably years."

Draco could hear Harry's breathing. He wasn't sure if it had hitched louder than usual or if Draco was simply hyperaware of it all of a sudden. He sounded fearful, though Draco knew he couldn't possibly feel as terrified as Draco refused to admit he felt himself. At least Harry hadn't confessed anything yet. At least he hadn't bared himself, exposed such potentially incriminating feelings. Hadn't let his tongue run away with itself without any certainty of –

"For me, I'd say it was the first time you opened your window for me."

The racing speed of Draco's thoughts ground to a halt. Now it wasn't only Harry's breathing that he could hear. Struggling to swallow the tightening in his throat, to drown the madly fluttering cache of insects whizzing around his stomach, he slowly turned towards Harry once more and found himself captured by his gaze. Damn, how could a single look do that to him?

"Technically… I didn't open it for you."

A hesitant smile twitched at Harry's lips for a moment before spreading with more confidence. "I know. But if I was going to pinpoint a moment, it's probably then that I realised I love you."

The weight of Harry's words seemed to hit them both at the same time. Draco saw it as a widening of Harry's eyes, heard the slight hitch in his breath and saw the sudden growth of his pupils. He could only imagine what Harry saw in himself. But he knew what he felt. And what he felt demanded an outlet.

Immediately.

Draco didn't wait. He couldn't. That single comment, that single expression, was as much permission as he could handle. And he probably should have waited, what with the uncertainty that Harry had conveyed about the nature of a physical relationship. But he couldn't do that either. A physical response seemed like the only one he could manage.

Without a second thought, he crossed the remaining distance between them until he stood nearly over the top of Harry, grasped his head in his hands, and brought their lips together. This time, Harry didn't even pause. There was no moment of frozen shock, of surprise before he melted into Draco. When their lips touched, Harry sunk into him immediately.

The first kiss had been wondrous. Miraculous. Unexpected, unprecedented and utter bliss. Yet it didn't hold a candle on that he shared with Harry in that moment of union. The world seemed to fade around him, the centre of the universe narrowing to the soft yet demanding pressure of Harry's lips, the warm stroke of breath as gasps became pants, the blessed moment of abandon when he parted is lips in tandem with Draco's and allowed their tongues to fall into delicately intertwined coils. His mouth felt afire with sensation, the feel of Harry's fingers as they rose to the back of his neck invigorating. The Dartmoor Coven could have crashed into his house for an impromptu raid and he wouldn't have cared. He wouldn't have stopped.

There was no pause for question. Thankfully, Harry didn't seem to need to be asked. When Draco took a step backward, his hands still locked around Harry's head and refusing to part from their deepening kiss, Harry rose from his seat to follow him. Which was utterly perfect, because from the moment Harry stood, Draco realised just how many items of clothing they were still wearing. It was certainly easy to remove those clothes without the inhibiting presence of a chair.

"Do you… I'm going to… I'll just…." Draco couldn't finish a sentence, each broken by the locking of lips. Again Harry seemed to understand. Nodding, he turned his hands to the lapels of Draco's robes and, with surprising urgency, tugged them demandingly. Draco gasped a laugh; for once, he didn't mind all that much being the receiver of attention, to be the taker rather than the giver. Besides, it only meant he could turn more of his own attention upon Harry.

Which he did. And Merlin was he grateful that he did.

Clothes were shed. Shoes slipped from feet, robes dropped and discarded carelessly. With each removal, each revelation of slightly more skin, Draco found himself spellbound. He felt like a fascinated virgin, witnessing true beauty and wonder for the first time. Never had the curve of a bicep seemed so arousing, the dip of a neckline before Harry's chest was fully revealed with his discarded undershirt so intoxicating. Pale skin, tanned skin, skin speckled by soft hairs and clenched beneath tightening muscles; Draco's fingers found them all. He didn't feel like he had enough fingers, in fact. There were simply too many places to touch.

And then they were free. And standing before Harry, his hands locked one upon the back of his head and the other on his wrist to deny any thoughts he might harbour of escape, he saw him. For the first time. It was both nothing and everything he'd expected it to be. Draco managed to pause in his frantic lip-locking to simply stare, to appreciate that which was before him.

Long, lean limbs, curved gracefully in the elegance of honed musculature. Narrow hips with just the faintest jut of hipbones, tapered waist and broad chest and straight, wide shoulders. There were little things that Draco hadn't thought he'd find fascinating, things he'd seem dozens of times on other men but held none of the degree his attention that Harry's did: the arch of his neck was surprisingly long, elegant even. His fingers, while calloused, where long, slender, and nails slightly overgrown. The thin, darkening trail of hairs from his lower abdomen and dipping towards his groin was soft and smooth to the touch. And his eyes. Salazar help him, Draco could always lose himself in Harry's eyes. Especially when he looked at him like that, all heat and focus and bleary readiness.

He truly wasn't all that much like Kevyn at all. They were nearly of a height, Draco and Harry, and unlike Kevyn, Harry didn't possess quite the breadth to his shoulders. He was all lean and smooth, refined and thrumming in the comfort of his own skin. A compact coil of surety.

Just like his merlin form. That thought only made Draco love him even more.

Dragging Harry towards him in another kiss, Draco simultaneously urged him backwards towards his bedroom. Harry let himself be led, directed, prodded almost demandingly. When the backs of his knees hit the end of the bed, he fell without qualms with a slight bounce onto the mattress. Draco was upon him barely a second later and nearly groaned aloud as their bodies pressed together, as heated skin touched heated skin and stimulated every nerve with hypersensitivity. As Harry's arms slipped around him, one around his neck and the other his waist, he could feel every micrometre of contact and it set him aflame.

Almost unable to pause in his frantic pressing of lips to lips, to skin, to jawline and across cheekbones and every part of Harry's face he could reach, Draco struggled to speak. It was a little difficult, given that most of his thoughts had pooled in his groin, focused entirely upon the sensitivity of growing hardness and the heat of Harry's own arousal pressed against his own. "Harry, I want to –"

"I know," Harry gasped, apparently struggling as much as Draco. He closed his eyes, head tilting as Draco dropped his lips to lick at his throat. "I – I want you to."

"Thank Merlin. I don't… know if I could stop if you… didn't want –"

"Good thing I do, then."

Draco barely heard him. He had become thoroughly engrossed in working his way down Harry's throat, kissing in little pecks, licking and nipping gently yet sharply enough to elicit little moans from Harry. It was music to Draco's ears. "You've no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmured into Harry's chest as he dropped another kiss upon his collarbones.

Harry uttered a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a groan, writhing beneath Draco's touch. "Then just do it already."

"Honestly, I could tell you stories," Draco continued. Propping himself up – Merlin, it was almost impossible to draw himself from the addictive warmth of Harry's skin even for a moment – he reached towards his nightstand. "Pansy could tell you stories, actually."

Still panting slightly, Harry turned a bleary, confused frown towards him. "You… you talk to Pansy about… about me?"

"Not hardly," Draco continued. He had half a mind on his fingers fumbling through the nightstand draw and the other half on simply holding Harry's gaze. It was suddenly the most important thing in the world to remain at the centre of his attention. "She just makes assumption."

Harry snorted, closing his eyes and raising a hand to his forehead. It was almost a blessing in that it freed Draco from his captivity. "Thank God. I worried for a moment that Pansy Parkinson would be privy to your fantasies."

Uncapping the little bottle he'd retrieved, Draco squeezed a generous portion onto his fingers. Then he had to pause, because for whatever reason the smooth skin over Harry's shoulder needed to be kissed right then. "Trust me, Harry, I don't have any inclination to tell Pansy my fantasies."

"That's… a relief."

"I'd be more than happy to tell you though," Draco continued. A kiss to the shoulder became a trail of kisses down his arm, which fell to soft, nipping bites at his wrist and then drew back to Harry's chest. Harry shifted beneath him his free hand grasped the back of Draco's head almost hard enough to tear hairs while the other drew down his back. Those trailing fingers did things to Draco.

"Honestly, I could," he continued once more. His tongue seemed to speak without his inclination, somehow managing to speak around the kisses he planted on Harry's heated skin. "I could tell you every time I've thought about it, every place I've imagined –"

"Draco –"

"I could give you a blow-by-blow of exactly what I want to do –"

"Draco –"

"I could tell you exactly how those thoughts surface every time you'd look at me in a certain way, every time you speak just so, every instant you'd –"

"Draco!"

Harry's half-groan, half-cry finally broke through Draco's feverish thoughts. He resurfaced from where he'd made his way down to Harry's belly, his free arm coiling around one leg in an unwavering hold to keep Harry just so. He glanced upwards, a question already on his lips, but Harry spoke first.

"I swear to God, Malfoy, if you don't shut up and fuck me right now, I will murder you."

Draco felt a slow smile spread across his face. There were so many things about that statement that delighted, not the least of which that the use of his surname, bringing forth a rush of nostalgia. "You know, you almost sound like Millicent when you say that. I do think she actually has intentions to kill me one day. You should hear some of the things she says…"

At Harry's frustrated groan, Draco couldn't hold back a laugh. He did, however, comply with his suggestion. How could he not? When absolute perfection presented itself, offered itself splayed like an inviting banquet and demanded to be eaten, how could he not partake? It would be… it would be rude not to.

Dropping his lips into the smattering of kisses once more, his hands worked for him. The directive manoeuvre of limbs, the unspoken urging to shift, and his gentle probing of slick fingers. The moans his touch elicited, the way Harry arched and pressed himself onto Draco, his arousal hard and firm against Draco's own as he held himself suspended above him, only served to stimulate Draco further. A second finger and another moan went straight to Draco's groin. It by-passed his brain entirely.

Harry had obviously done this before. Obviously. There was almost… openness in his motions, allowing himself to be eased apart, and though his body protested slightly it was not a direct denial, not a withdrawal in any kind. Draco wasn't entirely sure if he was relieved or disgruntled by the knowledge that Harry had been with someone else – hypocritical, he knew, and juvenile to consider otherwise, especially when considering Ginevra Weasley – but still.

All thoughts of past lovers, both Harry's and his own, abruptly faded however when Harry, in a movement so swift and fluid Draco hardly saw it, twisted his body until his legs wrapped around Draco's waist and his arms coiled around his back and neck. He drew Draco towards him and those damned, intoxicating eyes captured Draco, freezing him in his motions. "Draco…"

That one, gasped word undid Draco entirely. He didn't quite recall what happened next, but it hardly mattered. All he was aware of was taking himself into his hand, slickened and heavy, hitching Harry's leg towards his shoulder, positioning himself and finally, slowly, easing himself into the welcoming heat of Harry's body.

There was no experience that could quite compare. None of his previous lovers had ever elicited such a sharp, intense, all-consuming feeling of pleasure. Sliding incrementally into Harry, his nerves set alight, his own moan echoed Harry's. The final inch into becoming fully seated snapped in a second, with a pant and a trembling of limbs.

It would have been a sin not to pause for that moment, to revel in the sheer perfection of it. Harry trembled beneath him, around him, his fingers sliding downwards to grip Draco's biceps like a lifeline. Draco, one hand propped on one side of Harry's head and the other hooked on the back of his knee to keep it held aloft, peered down at him. His breath came in faint gasps, matching Harry's in pace.

"Harry," he uttered, and it was almost a gasp. "I'd truly love to take you up on your offer from just now. If you'd be so inclined."

Harry didn't speak, didn't seem able to. He simply nodded his head vigorously, fervently. Draco had a moment to revel in the fact that it was he who so undid him, he who had loosened the respectable and upstanding captain of the Elites to a quivering mess of desire, before all that became inconsequential. And acting on impulse, he withdrew his hips slightly, and snapped them forwards in a slide of mind-numbing pleasure.

'Intense' is perhaps an overused word. Or at least it was for Draco, for he couldn't possibly describe their coupling as anything but. Fucking was a very good word, and if perhaps it wasn't quite 'making love', Draco rationalised that it was only because the sheer need for pleasure seeking between the both of them overrode every other desire.

Draco set up a fast pace that Harry appeared to agree with entirely. Dropping his hand from Harry's leg to hold himself aloft over him more easily, he pushed into him with quick thrusts. Again, and again, and again. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that he said something. He made some sound, possibly words but more likely simply moans. It hardly mattered. Harry didn't seem to care, hardly even appeared aware. He seemed as captured by the moment as Draco did himself, falling prey to the instincts his body urged him towards. As Draco released his hold on the back of his knee, he repositioned himself to lock his legs around Draco once more, crossing them across his back. The bucking of his hips into Draco's, the motions in tandem with his own, sent pulsations of pleasure arcing through Draco's body.

He could feel it would end too fast. Not that he would ever want it to be anything but enduring; anything else was too short. But with each snap of his hips, each clench of heat around his hardness, the rapid slide of slickness with every withdrawal and following insertion, he lost himself a little more. The rhythmic pace fell to neglect and Draco's entire world seemed to consist of only a handful of things. Of the pleasure coursing through him, the tight grasp of Harry's arms and legs locked around him as though he would never let go, of his ragged breaths in his ear. Even the smell of intermingled sweat, thick and salty and pervasive.

He felt only Harry. And nothing had ever been more perfect.

He became aware of Harry's shift as his climax built almost unbearably. Hazy eyes caught sight of Harry's hands dropping down to himself, setting to his arousal and pumping in time with Draco's haphazard thrusts. Through the blissful heat clouding his mind, Draco reached down and wrapped his own hand around Harry's, following his motions. The moan he drew forth was delicious. Draco simply had to lean forwards and steal it from his lips.

Release hit him in a crashing wave. A groan seeped through his lips, redoubling as, with a clenching of muscle around his waning hardness, Harry reached his own climax. He urged his hips in gradually slowing thrusts, riding out cascades of pleasure that sent sparks dancing across his eyes and made the act of breathing suddenly inconsequential. Nothing seemed more important than their single point of contact.

Coming down from such a rushing high, from scaling towards the apex of that which he had gazed upon for so long… Draco had thought he'd be filled with satisfaction, perhaps. That such satisfaction would flood him and satiate him, leaving him entirely fulfilled. Yet as he slumped over Harry, peering through slowly clearing eyes into the lust-blown reflection of Harry's, he couldn't move. He couldn't draw away, couldn't even withdraw an inch for the distance it would put between then.

In an act entirely uncharacteristic of himself, Draco dropped down from his elbows and pressed himself against Harry. The rapid rise and fall of his chest, the slickness of release that smeared across their abdomens, the feel of warm breath tickling his cheeks; Draco revelled in it all. Head dropping onto Harry's shoulder, he tilted his chin to peer sidelong at flushed cheeks and hooded eyes. Harry turned towards him in turn, shifting only slightly to more firmly lock his arms and legs around Draco.

Speaking seemed redundant. There was simply nothing that could be said to express just what Draco felt. He knew that. But his tongue worked for him instead. And for once, the reflexive word vomit didn't act against him. "You're incredible, Harry Potter." He paused, as much surprised by the sincerity of the words as that he'd spoken them at all. At the slightly deepening flush of Harry's cheeks, however, he felt a smile pull across his face. "You know that, right?"

Harry turned his head more fully so that his forehead just slightly touched Draco's temple. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're only supposed to say that when I'm criticising you."

"Or when you're acting like an idiot."

Draco snorted. Shifting slightly to press himself more firmly against Harry, experiencing once more the faint thrill as he felt Harry shift to accommodate him more fully, he dropped a light kiss to the side of Harry's mouth. "Even with that revision of the rules, you're being redundant."

Harry tugged gently at the back of Draco's head, fingers pulling at his hair. "Incredible's a pretty big word."

"It doesn't make it any less applicable."

This time it was Harry that shifted, pressing himself impossibly closer to Draco. His legs tightened around Draco's waist and that did interesting things to his spend arousal. Was it even possible to become stimulated again so suddenly?

Then Harry, tightening his arms across Draco's back, turned his head once more and pressed his lips to Draco's ear. "I love you, Draco."

Four words. Four short words, awkward and discomforting yet when spoken in such a tone where the ambrosia of sounds. And Draco found that, yes, it was very possible to fall prey to lust once more after such a short time. Especially if he was with Harry.