Chapter 22
"One thing I miss,
It's in your eyes"
Rogue Wave – Eyes

Draco dreamed of freedom.

In the silent hours of the early morning, those were the hopes and wishes that flitted through his sleeping mind. Freedom. Future. Redemption for all of his wrongs.

Draco dreamed of Harry.

Freedom.

Future.

He woke up fully refreshed, and fully aroused. Lying back into his pillows he allowed his memories of their night together to replay in vivid detail, full audio with sense-o-vision. He could smell Harry, taste him on his tongue, feel his fingers trailing over his skin, leaving behind goosebumps and stoking a fire like the flame of the horntail flashing through his veins.

He ran his fingers over his nipples, just like Harry had, tweaked them as he caressed his hands down his body, over his hips, rubbing along his thighs brushing against the fine hairs there. He let his imagination bring every sensation to reality as he touched the full expanse of his body, except that which coveted touch the most.

He didn't go there. He didn't touch his aching prick but let it wait in irritation. He would see Harry again, soon, and that would be so much more satisfying than a quick and lonely wank.

With a sigh, he rose and took a cold shower.

After he was clean and fed, he forlornly examined the piled up paperwork for Rain. He knew he needed to deal with all the receipts, purchase orders and personnel requests, but his mind kept returning to Harry and the fact that he was now in a Floo conference with that coven from Canada. Normally he enjoyed the paperwork, took pride and pleasure in every aspect of his club, but today it all seemed far too mundane.

Resting his chin on his hand he stared out the window and watched the sun appear through a thin layer of clouds and the birds flying past in transient flocks.

Remus amused himself by watching the intricate, yet subtle, play between the two younger men. It started with the steady twitching of Harry's eyes as they responded to every noise in the room: the tea kettle, the chiming clock, the inevitable whoosh of the Floo as Draco walked through. It continued with the look of utter adoration on Harry's face as Draco casually brushed himself off and walked over to them with a warm smile on his face and his usual weight of care and attitude mysteriously gone.

Then, as Harry told them about his conversation with High Priestess Apis, the affection was constantly reinforced by casual brushes and accidental touches. One man would lay a hand on the counter and the other would reach for the sugar, gently running his wrist along the knuckles of the other. Or one of them would reach for a parchment and lean his shoulder against the other's. All casual, all easily written away as touches by close friends, thoughtless actions with no hidden meaning.

However, Remus knew the truth. He could smell each pheromone spike as skin met skin, as touch was returned by touch, as if each man, as unalike as the opposite ends of a magnet, were drawn together by that same polarity.

"So," Harry continued after one lengthy moment of silence trapped within a shared gaze, "They explained the entire ritual and it looks fairly intricate, but I'm sure we can do it. All we have left is to wait for the coven to prepare the ritual and ritual site and find the other portions of the Staff."

"Tell us about this ritual, Harry. How many people do they need? What type of tools? Perhaps I can contact them and help the preparations," Remus offered, hoping Harry could focus long enough to give him any usable information.

"Well," Harry said as he turned his body towards Remus, slightly away from Draco. Remus inwardly grinned. "It isn't so much a number of people that they need, but a power level. There are fifteen elder members in their coven, Apis said, and she told me that if I join them they would have more than enough. Do you guys want to be involved, 'cause I'll pass that on to her. I'm sure with your knowledge of the Staff you would be more useful than another witch or wizard, unless they were an artefact expert or something."

Remus looked at Draco, who returned his stare. "Harry, I think at this point you'd have to body bind us and lock us in a dungeon to keep us from participating. We want to see this through to the end," Remus said.

"Damn right," Draco replied. "Let the HP know we will be there. I'm sure they could use our valuable expertise and I'm not about to leave the destruction of this demonic stick to some inexperienced neonate."

Harry broke into a huge grin. "I should have known. Okay, I'll inform her. Anyway, they have some old magical mounds up there where they perform these kinds of high-powered rituals. It will take them some time to prepare the space, lots of warding circles and blessings and all that rot that high rituals require. Then they have this other artefact full of Light magic that will consume or house the Dark magic," Harry shrugged and shook his head, "she wasn't completely clear on that. Then someone has to keep a conduit open so the Dark goes into the Light and can't return… Not sure exactly how that works." Harry raised his eyebrows, looking dubious. "But I trust them that this will work."

"Connect me with High Priestess Apis and I will study the procedure. I'll let you know if it looks right or not." Remus knew how Harry and Draco felt. He, too, didn't want to leave the destruction of the Quetzalcoatl Staff to any amount of chance. He wanted to learn this ritual in and out to assure it would truly and wholly work.

Harry nodded. "Sure thing. I would appreciate your expertise. Right now I need to find where Scrimgeour has the Orb and find that damned Feather." Harry's eyes darkened as he frowned. "I just have no idea where to look. How do you find Dark artefacts? It's not like we can just go up to people and ask them to kindly let us go fthrough their highly illegal collection."

The scent in the room altered immediately and Draco shifted in his seat. Remus stared at the oddly guilty smelling man, but kept silent, waiting him out.

"Actually," Draco finally said, "I do know of one such collection…" He studiously examined the parchment he held stiffly in his hands. "Though, I doubt it will be useful in any way," he added offhandedly.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, his earlier playful voice now all business.

"Well, you see… Severus left me his collection, just a small collection really, and I didn't have the heart to turn it over to the Ministry. It was my last connection to him," he finished in a small voice, attempting a nonchalance he didn't achieve.

Guilt. The air was heavy with guilt.

Remus decided to throw the man a line. "So you have a few cursed items… was a feather in there?"

Draco looked up at Remus, his brow furrowed as he was obviously trying to mentally catalogue a much longer list than he wanted to admit. "Yes, there are a few feathers, actually." Remus noticed that he still refused to meet Harry's eyes. "But none of them were even remotely like the wooden pole," he said with conviction. "I really don't think any of them are part of the Staff." He finally turned to look at Harry. "I offer up the collection to you, with the slim potential that I'm wrong."

The stagnant air held like a waiting breath.

With a nod, Harry finally relaxed and smiled. "Okay, let's go check it out after I contact Apis. I'm sure that your little collection isn't anything to worry about."

Guilt. It permeated everything.

"Draco, you said small!"

Harry looked on in awe at the huge room full of stuff. He couldn't classify it in any other way. There were piles and shelves and cupboards and cases full of stuff, reaching up to the high ceiling, filling rows and aisles that stretched far off into wizard space.

He stood stiffly at the entrance of the room, afraid to touch anything. The thrum of Dark energy caused his nerve receptors to tingle and his hair felt like it was standing on end.

"Yes, well. Many wizards gave their collections to Severus because he had such an ideal location for it. And after he died… well, it was willed to me. And now here it is. The combined collection of most of wizarding England's Dark items… all right here. In my basement," he finished lamely.

Harry turned to look at Draco and gave him a stern gaze. Not quite a glare. Harry found he couldn't really be angry with Draco over this. A few months ago he would have slapped magical cuffs on the man and hauled him off to the Ministry, but now he knew Draco and knew that Draco would never use Dark objects.

Part of him still felt he had to step up and scold Draco, that he was shirking some duty by leaving the collection as it was, but he wasn't an Auror anymore. He didn't really care.

Taking a deep breath, he returned his scrutiny to the room. Upon a second examination Harry did admit that there was some organization to the stuff. Everything was clean and some of the things, Harry guessed the more dangerous, were held behind containment screens.

"Okay, Draco. Where are the feathers?"

He heard a strained sigh behind him and he turned to face Draco. "Harry, I just want…" Draco began. Harry touched his finger to Draco's lips, stalling the unnecessary apology.

He leaned forward and replaced his finger with his mouth, and in a way much better than words, reassured Draco that this did not alienate him and what were a few silly dangerous objects when it came to this thing between them. When he pulled back from the kiss, Draco was smiling and Harry felt a million times better himself.

"Over here," Draco said, and he entered the hall of stuff.

Draco led him over to a large, metal trunk. Scrolling across the surface of the trunk were letters of every conceivable alphabet, at least that Harry recognized. Roman, Cyrillic, Greek, kanji, some weird squiggly things. Draco pulled out his wand and tapped the lid of the trunk and it swung open.

A high pitched sound whirred from the trunk.

"What's that?" Harry asked, squinting at the trunk.

Draco turned to him and Harry swore the man struggled to not roll his eyes. "Harry, we must do something about your sheltered life," he said with a smirk. "This is a full sized Compilation Manager," Draco said with a flourish. The whirring stopped and it made a burping noise. Draco looked annoyed. "Well, to be honest it's never been the same since that boggart took up temporary residence." He returned his attention to the trunk and began to rummage about in it. He pulled out a tablet with birds adorning the left edge.

"Here we go; items with bird parts in them. Normally the top tablet is always the one you are after, but…" he trailed off, reading over the list.

Harry craned his neck to get a look at this list. He quickly counted over twenty items and the list looked like it continued onto the back.

"There are five single feathers in the collection. Other items included feathers, but we can examine those after we look at the singles. Sound good?" He looked up at Harry, his hair dusting the edges of his lashes, a curious expression on his face. Their eyes connected and the corners of Draco's crinkled in delight. Harry was distinctly reminded at how beautiful Draco was in these moments when time seemed to stall and the world focused on just them.

"Harry?" Draco asked, still smiling.

"Wha…?" he said startled, and time jumped, returning to steady flow. "Sure, sounds good."

Gripping the tablet, Draco wandered through the stacks of items. Harry made sure to step exactly where Draco did, just in case the floor was jinxed in any way. He would not have been surprised.

It took them almost an hour to collect all of the single feathers listed on the tablet, and then they took them to an adjoining room for study.

Draco tried to lead Harry through the stacks in a way that made the room seem less full, less large, but he knew that he'd failed. He glanced back at Harry ever few rows and saw the man's eyes wide with wonder and awe. Every so often he would reach out for an item, only to pull his hand back sharply and look over at Draco.

He would ask about little things that he saw, things that any wizarding child would know about. Like the hovering cauldron (Why does it hover? To make sure the bottom won't scorch the surface you place it on.); or the square disks of marble (Are these coasters? Coasters? Yeah, for drinks?). Draco only shook his head. It was one of the sundry things Draco would have to forgive; Harry was so incredibly plebian, touched by too much Muggleness. But he loved him, nonetheless.

Five feathers were laid across a full length table. One of them was dull and rather scruffy looking, about three inches in length and looked like it might have been plucked from a gull. The second was elegant and bright, a rainbow of colours and reached over a foot and a half in length with a bit of yarn attached to the end. The third, an obvious primary wing feather that had once adorned some bird of prey, was painted with Greek sigils. The fourth was actually two good sized feathers bound together by a leather thong, the edges tinged by some bright red dye, though the rest of the feathers were black. The last feather was a tiny thing, metallic in colour, changing from green to blue to bronze depending on the angle of the light. It let off a slightly sweet scent.

Both men glanced over the parade of feathers, but unanimously their eyes were brought back to the bright, rainbow coloured one. It could definitely have come from the mythological Quetzalcoatl.

It, however, did not put off any of the power or energy that the wooden shaft had.

Harry pulled out his wand and performed a series of diagnostic charms. Draco returned to the catalogue to get more information on the item. When he returned Harry was still bombarding the feather with spells.

"Well," Draco began, his eyes skimming the text, "this feather was given to Severus by Sir Julius Wellons about a decade ago. Prior to that it was bequeathed to the Wellons' line via some arrangement not explained in this ledger. It was believed to have been South American in origin." Draco huffed. "Its properties include enhancing other items' magic by focusing it. It hasn't been completely studied, however. Three people purportedly went mad after they'd touched it—" Harry took an involuntary step back, "—so it advises using protective gloves when handing the item." Draco sighed and spoke the last part in slow, thick words. "Believed to be a part of some greater artefact and doesn't work properly without the entire item reassembled. Well," he said once he quit reading the tablet, "that about settles that. I've got a bit of a very evil artefact hiding in my modest collection." Harry snorted, but continued his spellwork. "Pity. It's a rather pretty thing, isn't it?"

"Sure, if you think being cursed mad is an attractive quality," Harry said and turned to Draco, something like amusement in his features.

"Well, you just don't appreciate the aesthetic. And isn't it a good thing I find mad an attractive quality?" Draco added, with a wriggle to his eyebrows. "Only a mad man would be hanging out with me in my basement surrounded by Dark and cursed objects."

Draco congratulated himself when Harry smiled at the flirtatious tease. Then his heart jumped when the smile turned into something predatory as Harry began stalking towards him.

"You like mad men, do you Draco?" Harry said, his voice low. Draco took a step back for every step Harry took forward until his back hit the wall. Harry continued forward until they were chest and chest, thigh to thigh, nose to nose. "A little crazy does it for you?" Harry leaned forward and licked along Draco's throat.

Draco's body tingled and he pressed forward against Harry. Two could play this mad stalking game. "Oh yes, Harry. Mad, powerful men spark my Floo. They would have to be daring to keep up with my lifestyle of fast brooms and houses of ill repute." Draco nibbled on the corner of Harry's mouth.

"Good thing you fell for a Gryffindor, then." Harry gripped Draco's hips, pulling their groins together. "I'm sure any other man would just bore you to tears." Then he kissed Draco, kissed him like the end was nigh and Draco's lips were the only thing worth focusing on in those last final minutes. Draco returned the kiss, frantic and needy and when had he become so passionate? When had he lost control?

The two men stumbled from the little room into the stairway heading to the floor above, and landed in a lump on the stairs, Draco on the bottom with Harry straddling him. Clumsily, Harry reached for Draco's shirt and tugged it off. "Merlin, you're so fucking gorgeous," Harry said through needy pants as he continued to lick and suck and nibble every inch of visible flesh.

Something desperate raced through Draco's veins and he wanted to, no, needed to be in Harry right now. A complete loss of decorum and restraint pounded through him; Draco had never felt this before. He pushed Harry back to work on his belt and fly. Harry obligingly sat back, working on Draco's own clothing.

"Harry, I need…" Draco said, oddly at a loss for words.

"Yes." And it seemed to be all that needed to be said as Harry stood and shucked off his jeans.

Neither of them lasted long as the spontaneous flare of lust burned hot and then exploded, taking them into the realm of mindless heat and passion. Eventually, they came to, sticky and sore and oddly tangled up on the stairs, laughing at themselves.

"Well, that was unexpected," Draco said, stroking Harry's sweaty hair.

"Yeah, I know. I was just… yeah." Harry blushed and Draco kissed his nose. "I think I better keep a tube of lube with me at all times," he said with a wink and Draco laughed again.

"Might be prudent," he said. "Especially if you intend on attacking me like that regularly." Secretly, Draco hoped he would.

"Seems odd though… I really couldn't stop. I had to have you," Harry said as he trailed his finger over Draco's now pimpling skin.

Draco pondered this and then mentally slapped himself. "Well, it could be that one of those feathers has something to do with a fertility ritual."

Harry lied back on the uncomfortable stairs and laughed, his belly shaking and his eyes screwed shut. "Oh Merlin. Figures." Still breathing heavy, Harry rolled over to look at Draco, his head propped up by his arm. His eyes shone. "Well, I guess it's time to contain that feather and let Remus know we've found it. Man, I care barely walk." Harry gingerly got to his feet and cast Scourgify on himself, then Draco. As Draco watched, Harry tugged up his jeans and buckled them. Harry's persistent blush was quite fetching. Finally, Draco got to his own feet and tucked himself away, then tenderly kissed Harry.

"That was nice, by the way," Draco said.

Harry looked up at him and grinned. "Was, wasn't it?"

After they conveyed the news about the feather to Remus, who was in the Yukon going over the ritual, the two men pondered how to find the orb while they walked through the hospital to visit Hermione. As they walked into her room, they saw that Ron was already here, quietly talking to Hermione, caressing her pale hand.

"Hi guys," he said as they came in. He seemed strangely drawn.

"Ron, what's up?"

Ron shrugged and laid his head down on the bed next to Hermione's shoulder. "Just work. It's hard going nowadays."

Harry exchanged a glance with Draco and he walked over to Ron and began waving his wand about.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Ron said, flapping his hand at Harry, trying to stop him from casting spells.

"Just checking something, Ron. Calm down." Harry performed the final flourish to his wand waving and then his heart sank.

"Ron," Harry said, tentatively.

"Yeah, what?" Ron asked, exhaustion lacing every word.

"Never mind. Just stay here with Hermione, okay. We're going to be gone for a while."

"Okay," Ron said, and he laid his head down again and closed his eyes.

Harry walked back across the room to the door and motioned for Draco to follow him.

"He's been cursed, Draco. He's being drained like everyone else at the Ministry; all those people who turned to St. Mungo's for a cure. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. They aren't even being careful anymore. This has got to fucking stop." Harry ground his teeth, trying to tether his anger. They were taking everything from him. Hurting everyone that mattered.

"Agreed," Draco said, far too calmly. "But where would you like to start?"

"I don't know!" Harry yelled, causing a passing Mediwizard to glare at him. Then in a quieter voice, "We can't go to Scrimgeour yet, the ritual isn't ready and we don't want to alert him too early. But we at least have to find out the location of the orb."

"I've an idea," Draco said. "We can't go to Scrimgeour, but how about the next best thing."

"Who…"

"Riley."

Harry pondered that. They could take on Riley right now; Scrimgeour probably wouldn't notice he was gone by the time they went to retrieve the orb.

"How do we find him?" Harry asked.

"Well, you just leave all the intellectual work to me and be there to back me up," Draco said flippantly.

Harry snorted. "Fine. Let's put your plan in action, oh Ravenclaw wannabe."

"Ravenclaw? As if!"

They convinced Ron to drop some hints in the Auror's office so that Kingsley had the opportunity to overhear. Draco had counted on Kingsley passing on the information he heard to Riley, or possibly Scrimgeour. Unfortunately, there was always the possibility that Kingsley himself would show. They would deal with that if that was the case, though Draco felt optimistic about Riley's desire to handle things himself.

Draco had told Ron to simply mention that Harry had been very excited to find a feather. Crazy, bloke, Harry, excited about the silliest things. And wasn't Ron disappointed that he couldn't meet Harry at his usual Thursday night lager at Good Friends Pub off of Burtle Street. Hopefully Harry didn't mind drinking alone tonight.

Ron obviously had done his job well, because as Draco watched from under Harry's invisibility cloak in an empty corner of the pub, none other than Ted Riley approached an obviously alone Harry.

With his wand's point jutting from his overly loose shirtsleeves, the Auror greeted him.

"Hey there, Potter," Riley said.

"What?" Harry jumped. From his quiet corner Draco rolled his eyes. Drama Queen. "Riley, what…"

"Shut your trap, Potter. Stand up and walk out the door."

Harry held his arms out to his side and rose from the stool. Riley, practically bonded to Harry's back, followed behind until the two left the pub.

Draco was fast on their heels.

"Down there, Potter," Riley directed, and Harry turned left down the alley next to the pub. The neon sign sputtered in the night.

"Riley, come on. What's going on here?" Harry stammered. He turned his head to look at Riley and Riley jabbed him with his wand.

"Face foreword," he said, so focused on Harry, it took Draco little effort to curse the man with a silent Incarcerous. Bindings flew out of Draco's wand and wrapped around Riley's body, cocooning him so tight that his wand fell from his restricted grip.

Swift as lightening, Harry spun on Riley and slammed him into the brick wall.

"Come on Riley, time to loose those lips. I know you're with Scrimgeour. I know you're both cursing the wizarding populous."

"Let me go, Potter. You've no idea what power we control," Riley said, spit flicking off his lips with the force of his words.

"Let you go?" Harry said incredulously, his voice low, slipping out from clenched jaws. "Tell me where the fuck the orb is and I might let you live. This isn't about you being let go. This isn't about a slap on the hand and you run back to your orderly world of werewolf abuse and arse kissing, this is about you cursing my friends and trying to control the entire wizarding world!" Harry's words grew quiet, more enunciated as he continued. "This is about you telling me where the fucking orb is and me maybe not handing you over to the dementors in the time it takes to Apparate to Azkaban."

Harry laid the tip of his wand against Riley's temple and murmured a few words. Little shards of light slipped from the wand and burrowed into the frightened man's head. He thrashed and screamed and Draco could smell the acrid scent of urine fill the air.

"Stop. Please. Stop. Get them out of my head!" he screamed, the words morphing into a wail of panic.

"Tell. Me. Where. It. Is." Menace dripped from every word.

His eyes rolling back, Riley tried to pull his head away, but Harry gripped his jaw tight in his hand, the other pressing the wand into the man's temple. "It's in a church. Please, just stop. I can't think."

"What church." Harry pressed the wand farther into the skin and Draco watched as the divot seemed far too deep, that it should have hit bone by then. Something within him went cold and he reached out to grip Harry's shoulder, to break Harry from that fearsome anger.

"Our Holy Weeper," Riley wimpered and Harry pulled back. Without support the man fell forward, hitting the ground like a bale of wool, the sound loud and oddly flat.

Harry called up his Patronus and sent it to Ron, informing him that they had Riley in custody and were taking him to the special holding cell they had prepared. Before they Apparated with their prisoner, Draco looked at Harry. He wasn't sure what to say. "That wasn't very nice," he said lamely.

"Sorry, but I'm all outta nice," Harry replied.