Okay, so, a warning, this chapter begins with a bit of smut. A wee bit. Just for fun. So avoid the first nine paragraphs if you have a sensitive disposition.

Once again, I don't own any of these characters, just the situations I put them in; and there are going to be some compromising ones to come.

Tee Hee.

Enjoy.

Merick

Chapter Thirty-One

The ground was warm under the palms of my hands as I sat, but it didn't stop me trembling, I remember. Some times it was so hard to understand Draco back then, while we worked through all of the blows he'd been dealt, and all the subterfuge that continued to underpin our relationship. It was bad enough that we were ourselves scared of being discovered, forcing us to hide, but the fact that so many of the Professors seemed to have foreknowledge of what we were destined to do, knowledge they parceled out in infuriatingly little drabs here and there, made our first few months at Hogwarts very anxious ones indeed.

Back in that glade, and later, hidden away in my bedroom, those were some of the few times that we could really let our guards down, and just shut out everything else. A few precious hours, they kept us going, kept Draco going through such difficulties.

Leaning back on my arms Draco hovered over me, just a little, and pulled my shirttails free from my trousers. His hands, warm as they were ran up along my bare chest as he leaned in to kiss me. Balance as it was, I could move one arm up, my right one I remember, to wrap around his back to likewise pull his shirt free so that I could touch his skin. The pressure I put on his back forced him closer to me, almost to the point where I could feel the rise and fall of his chest on my own. He continued to kiss me, curling his head around my face as he went along, bringing his lips to my ear and whispering, in that deep, sexy voice that made my resolve melt.

"Touch me," and then a deep breath, which betrayed his own trepidation at the request.

I knew what he meant and I rolled him onto his back then, keeping my right hand on his abdomen as I guided him down, letting my fingers just slide against the waistband of his pants. His chest fluttered as I let my fingertips press downward, pushing against him, and he moaned. Using slow circles I worked my fingers against him, watching his face as he closed his eyes, watching his lips part, and hearing the indrawn air. I wanted more from him then and with my other hand I undid the fastings on his pants, just enough that I could slip my hand down between the cotton fabrics of the pants and his shorts. His moans became deeper as he seemed to struggle to find calm breaths.

His arousal was plain, cupped into my palm as I continued to rub him; my own matching his. I wished desperately for a clue from him if I should go further, because I was afraid. It came as his thumbs hooked the elastic of his shorts, and his now open eyes stared at me.

"Please?" The plea was so desperately genuine.

"Oh God yes." His fingers worked no faster than my own as I took him into my hand, solid flesh against my skin and began to stroke the length of him. His gasps were labored, held longer and longer with each stroke, and I could feel the muscles tensing against me. My own chest was heaving with the excitement of it and the anticipation of his resolution was delicious.

His back arched against my ministrations and I knew it could not be long for him, and so, without leaving my hold of him, I bent over to him, and forced my mouth against his, taking his tongue and feeling, as well as hearing the cry that rose as he reached his orgasm. I held his mouth through it, giving him my breath, and feeling his body finally easing back to the ground. I pulled his shirt over his exposed body and then lay down beside him, searching for his hand with mine. When I found it, I held it tightly, feeling the trembling, and loving it.

I will never forget the first words that Professor Daniel Alonso spoke to us; seriously, I've probably said it before in this work, but this instance is no less true.

He said to us, the NEWT level DADA students that 'there is the capacity for evil in every single one of us, some of us will choose to express it, some of us will fight it, and some of us will become its victims, but never doubt that it is there.' At that point I think I recall wanting to hit him, or maybe throw a spell at him; whichever, the point was, I was angry. I didn't necessarily disagree with him, but Draco was sitting right behind me, and I knew it was the last thing he needed to hear, and, quite frankly, the last thing that many of students in that class needed to hear. We wanted hope, and it became clear that Alonso had a history that he hadn't put behind himself yet, and hope he hadn't managed to find for himself yet.

He still wore the black glove over his left hand, and it was actually more of a gauntlet, reaching up to his elbow. I won't make it out as if he wasn't talented, because if I thought Snape could hurl a venomous spell at someone, even he might have quivered in the presence of this man, at least at the first. As much as I hated him that day, I could at least respect his abilities. And over the year I learned a great deal from him, spells I use to this day; but at the beginning, I saw him as another enemy I had to face.

Alonso had also not endeared himself to me in those first two weeks because of how he had teamed up with Ginny, or fallen under her spell, or whatever happened. But as soon as she had found out that he was a Quidditch champion she had begun to scheme, and after only a week of classes, and before the start of the season, she had managed to convince him to sponsor and coach her team, an all girls team, which was added to the four house teams for that season. They called themselves the Hogwarts Harpies, after the Hollyhead Team. I had another name for them, and it rhymed just as well, but I won't print it here; I gave up that anger a long while ago.

Those words were echoing in my ears as we left The Three Broomsticks, only a few minutes after we entered. Of everyone there, it was Rosemerta who had surprised me the most, and disappointed me the most as well.

So here's how that happened.

We wanted to get an early start so we left for Hogsmeade before breakfast, figuring we'd have something at Rosemerta's before seeing, and being seen at a few shops. Alibis established we were going to head for the outskirts of town and disapparate, headed for 12 G. I'd hardly slept the night before, not that I was exhausted, I was fueled with adrenalin, and anticipation, and a sexual tension that made parts of me just ache. To have hours and hours of privacy with Draco, the implications of which I had been dreaming of for weeks both thrilled and terrified me.

The bell over the pub door jingled happily, just as I had remembered from the summer time visits. 'Just grab a seat, I'll be right over,' the same greeting as always, Rosemerta didn't even turn around to see who it was. We did as bidden, choosing a small table nearer to the door, not quite out of the way, but not quite in the way either. We took off our robes, hung them on the wall and settled in for breakfast. With a sweep of her robes and white apron Rosemerta spun our way with two menus in her hands, smiled as she saw me, was about to utter a more personal greeting, and then stopped mute, for just a split second, as she set on eyes on my companion. She tried to recover, but it was no use.

"Harry." Her voice even sounded nervous, "how good to see you again, and you've brought a friend." She stuttered; and where I found my own verbal slips annoying, hers was sickening. "Draco? Isn't it?" The smile on her face had changed to a nervous approximation.

"Hi Rosemerta, nice to see you too." The answer was rote; I didn't know what to do. I cursed my naivety. She couldn't even hand me the menus, instead I took them from her.

"Let me go and get you two some coffee." And she whirled again, stiffer, again forced and I could see her man behind the bar staring at us. His look was contempt, and I couldn't believe it, I just couldn't believe it was really as bad as Draco had said.

I looked at Draco who was utterly pale. The happy expression on his face from our walk over had vanished, our shared excitement was gone. In its place, darkened sadness had fallen over him, and it was all my fault. I got up, and went to the bar, followed by the eyes of the other six or so patrons in the place, once they stopped staring at Draco that was.

"Is there a problem Rosemerta?" I asked, emboldened by my anger.

"Harry." She tried to keep her voice quiet, "why are you here with him?"

"He's my friend and classmate Rosemerta, and we've come for breakfast." I didn't keep my voice low, not that I shouted it or anything. But I had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Harry, everyone can see the death eater mark on his arm." I didn't turn; I wasn't giving any of them the satisfaction of seeing me do that. Truthfully, I hadn't even noticed it, it meant so little to me then.

"So what are you saying Rosemerta? Are we not welcome here?"

"Harry, it's not that, you're always welcome here, you helped save this town, this country." She was sounding desperate, but my heart was stone.

"But not him?"

"I know he's your friend Harry but, I have everyone else to think about."

"Then by all means, do think about your narrow minded ways as much as you need to, to justify your actions to yourself. It's a real pity that you can't see far enough to understand the real evil, and differentiate it from the victims."

I almost stomped back to Draco, but I wasn't about to look like some dramatic fool, so I paced my steps as well as the angry heaving in my chest.

"Harry, don't," came Rosemerta's voice, I stopped, waited, a second or two to see what she would say next, to give her the chance to do what was right. She said nothing.

"Come on Draco." He stood, grabbing up both our cloaks, looking only at me. I resisted the urge to hurl something else at the rest, something to make them feel as small and petty as they were, but again, I thought the better of it. I let the slamming of the door behind us say everything I couldn't.

"Let's get out of here, I have a much better place in mind to eat anyways."

Draco said nothing, but looking at his face I could see the tears welling. I wished just then that I could express the evil that was supposedly in my soul; at least according to Alonso, because I would have slammed more than just a door as we departed.

"I just want to go back to the castle Harry. I can't do this."

"No, please Draco, trust me, I can make this better." I was desperate to get him away from there, to my house, someplace where he could forget the ugliness.

"It isn't going to get better."

"It will, Draco, not everyone is like them."

"But everyone is going to know, they'll see the mark, I'll never have any peace."

"Please." I wanted to grab his hand and drag him to the far side of town. I had no illusions of stopping in at any shops, or anything else any longer; I had to get him out. Fortunately he followed my urging, and not many other shops were open yet so we met very few people on our hurried trip out of town. Arriving at the place I had envisioned for our departure, I finally did take his hand, and apparated both of us to the trellised-in back porch of 12 G.

"Come on." I yanked off my cloak and took his, he seemed very reluctant at exposing his arm again, but I managed to drag him out the back gate, and down the slender alley to emerge in a busy London street. I knew where I was going, even if he didn't, and I was so happy that he gave in and let me lead him.

The shop we went into didn't have an antique bell over the door, or a fireplace connected to the Floo network, or anything vaguely magical about it at all. But it did have what I thought Draco needed. Open minds.

"Harry!" A happy call came from behind the counter. "Oh my God, when you said you were off to school I didn't think I wouldn't see you for a month."

Melody came around from behind the counter where she had been stacking coffee mugs. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Draco was astonished. Melody just kind of expressed herself that way, I'd never thought much about it.

"Hi Melody, it's good to see you again too. I want you to meet my friend Draco." I gestured to him with my left hand. He tried to smile at her, it was hard not to, she had that kind of effervescent personality. She stuck out her hand in a comical kind of fashion, snapping it at the elbow as she offered it to him.

"Well the pleasure is all mine." She looked him up and down, and I could tell that she wasn't kidding, she was enjoying the view. I think Draco sensed it as well as he shook her hand because the half hearted smile became more genuine. "You boys sit down, I'll bring you some coffees. Draco, double double?"

"Yes thank you."

"I just knew it." She was quite pleased with herself and hurried off to pour us two cups. We sat, the place wasn't terribly busy, which was odd for a Saturday morning, but as it turned out there'd been a football match on late the previous night, so folks in the neighborhood were having a lie-in.

"She's a friend of yours?" Draco asked as we sat.

"I met her over the summer when I was working on the house."

"You go out?"

"No, just friends over coffee I guess."

"She certainly seemed excited to see you."

"And you as well."

"She's a muggle?" He lowered his voice.

"The whole place is, so relax."

"I've never been to a muggle place before."

"Just enjoy your coffee." Melody was on her way back, one mug in each hand, black half apron tied around her waist, tight white tee shirt covering a potentially distracting figure. I wondered why I hadn't really noticed it before; but of course I had been distracted by the house, and Ginny back then.

"Here you are gents, can I get you some breakfast too?"

I nodded and she left us two little cards, pulled from the apron pocket with about a half dozen selections on them; it wasn't a fancy place, mostly egg sandwiches and pastries, but it was what we needed. When she returned to take our orders she noticed Draco's dark mark, the scar of the skull and snake on his left forearm.

"Wow, that's a really different tattoo." She actually put a finger out to touch it. Draco flinched.

"Sorry, does it hurt? It just looks so different, like a shadow. Who did it for you?"

"Someone back home." He answered, quite unsure of what to say, or of her reaction to the mark he saw a brand.

"I've got one here, but it's got more color than yours." Unashamedly she turned around and pulled up her tee shirt to expose a tiny green dragon, inked in the small of her back.

"Uh, wow, what kind is it?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"Well it's a dragon silly, I didn't think it was that bad."

"No, no, nothing like that, it's very nice. It looks like a Welsh Green." I kicked Draco under the table, and the look in my eyes reminded him that she was a muggle, and that she had no idea about dragon breeds.

"A what?" She asked, turning around and tucking her shirt in again.

"Oh nothing, just looks like a picture from a book I read once, a Welsh one."

"Really, wow, I just liked it because it looked so magical. I love magical stuff." She really had no idea what she was saying, or who she was saying it to.

"Have you gotten one yet Harry?" She asked me.

"Oh no," I held up my hands, as if that was any indication about whether or not I had a tattoo. "Nothing like that for me."

"You should think about it, you would look good with a dragon or something magical on you." I kept a straight face as she went back to get our food.

"You never told her anything Harry?"

"Not a word Draco."

"Funny that."