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See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.

As always, Avana65 and FaeryQueen07, I heart you both!

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Harry's next few days were a blur of studying, classes and stolen kisses with Draco. With the craziness of midterm exams and the start of the intramural Quidditch matches, they hadn't had a chance to go flying again, but Harry was thrilled that Draco seemed excited about the idea of trying a solo flight.

The kisses they'd shared were still burned into his mind, but neither boy was confident enough to take it a step further. Harry found himself startled by the intensity of his attraction to the blond, which far outstripped the feelings he'd had for Cho or Ginny. He felt like he was on fire every time they kissed, and even when they weren't together, Draco was always on his mind. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced, but he was reluctant to confide in anyone. Telling someone about his feelings for Draco would make them too real, and since he had no idea if the few kisses they'd shared meant anything to the other boy, he wasn't willing to examine what they truly meant to him.

"Knut for your thoughts," Ginny said, sprawling on the sofa next to him and scattering his Potions notes, which had been spread out over the cushions.

"Argh!" He pushed ineffectually at her in an attempt to retrieve the parchment she was now sitting on. "Shove off, you cow."

Ginny smirked at him, dutifully rolling so he could free the paper she'd landed on. Harry retrieved his crumpled essay, smoothing it with a spell.

"So, have anything to tell me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"No," Harry said sullenly, trying to put his papers back in order.

"No?" She leaned forward and tugged his collar to the side, exposing a small hickey. "What's this, then?"

"Gin!" he hissed, batting her hand away. "It's nothing."

She snickered, settling back against the sofa cushions.

"This nothing, is he just a little bit taller than you? Pale skin? Grey eyes? A delicious smile?"

Harry looked scandalized.

"Not ringing a bell yet?" she asked with mock concern. She pretended to think a bit. "Blond hair? Broad shoulders? An arse that –"

"Gin!" Harry clapped a hand over her mouth, stopping her from continuing.

She laughed, shoving his hand away.

"Did that ring any bells?" she asked with a wink. Her eyes widened when Harry blushed. "Ooh, has he rung your bell?"

"Ginny!" he whispered, his eyes narrowed dangerously. When she didn't wilt under his glare, he sighed in resignation. "Fine. Not here, alright? Let's go to my room."

Ginny squealed in triumph, jumping up from the sofa and sending his neatly organized piles back into disarray. Harry groaned, gathering everything up into a jumbled heap and stuffing it into his bag. He set off for his room with Ginny hot on his heels, drawing a questioning look from Draco, who was playing chess in front of the fireplace with Blaise. Harry shook his head slightly, and a small smirk played over Draco's lips as he settled back against his chair and continued his game.

Harry dismantled his wards, stepping back to let Ginny walk through first. She wrinkled her nose at the piles of clothes heaped on the floor, stepping over a tray of half-eaten sandwiches and several empty bottles of Butterbeer.

"You're the one who wanted to talk," Harry said sourly, tossing his bag into the corner and flopping on his unmade bed. The protection spells he set on his room prevented even house-elves from entering, which was a small price to pay for privacy and peace of mind.

Ginny looked around, still disgusted.

"Does he come to your rooms when they look like this?" she asked, putting heavy emphasis on the pronoun.

"His room looks even worse than mine, so yes, he does," Harry said, propping his hands behind his head.

"I've just been concerned about you," she said, absentmindedly tidying his mess as she spoke. He didn't stop her as she stooped to pick up the shoes that were haphazardly strewn about the floor, tossing them inside the half-open armoire in the corner.

"Concerned about me? Why?" He sat up a bit, watching her clean. When she moved to start piling dirty laundry into a basket that was half-full already, he spoke up. "Wait. Those are clean."

She rolled her eyes, perching the basket on her hip and opening his chest of drawers, tucking the clean clothes inside without bothering to fold them.

"Well, not so much concerned as worried," she said, pulling a pair of black cashmere sleep trousers out of the drawer. "Ooh, are these new?"

"They were a gift from Fleur for my birthday," he said, laughing as Ginny stroked the soft fabric, holding them up against her own body. "You can have them."

"Seriously?"

"Sure. I don't wear them anyway."

Ginny rubbed the cashmere against her cheek, her eyes closing at the feel of the luxurious fabric against her skin.

"Why not? They're gorgeous," she said, still fingering the cloth.

"Guess," he said, waggling his brows suggestively.

"Are they too – oh my God," she said, her eyes widening. "You sleep naked."

"Got it in one," he said, enjoying her embarrassment.

"That's –" she averted her eyes from his rumpled bed. "Wow."

Harry laughed, reclining back against the bed once more. He could hear Ginny rustling around, probably still piling his dirty clothes into the basket and straightening the pile of books and notes on his desk. After another minute of silence, she finally spoke again.

"You've been different lately," she said, folding the cashmere sleep trousers and draping them over the back of the chair, her cheeks still tinged with pink. "Not in a bad way. Just, different. Happier."

Harry sat up, running a hand through his hair and fiddling with his glasses.

"Gin, look – I know after well, everything, I couldn't be there for you like I should have –"

"And I understood, Harry. We all understood," she said, hesitating before joining him on the bed, her blush darkening a bit as she sat on the sheets. "And god, if anyone deserves to be happy, it's you. I'm glad you've found someone you can talk to. I'm just a little worried about who that is."

Harry's jaw tightened, but Ginny cut him off before he could defend Draco.

"He's changed a lot. You've changed a lot. I see the way you two are together – you're good for each other. I just want you to be sure that whatever you have going on means the same thing to him as it means to you," she said, slipping her hand into Harry's and giving his fingers a squeeze. "Because I think it means a lot on your side. Maybe more than even you realize."

"I love you Harry. I love you, and I don't want to see you hurt more than you already have been."

The concern in her chocolate brown eyes eased the sting of her words, and Harry's defensiveness dissolved.

"Gin," he said, words failing him. He pulled her down next to him on the mattress instead, burying his face in her lilac-scented hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She curved around him, enjoying the intimacy that had been missing from their interactions since the war ended.

"I just need to know one more thing," she said solemnly, and Harry braced himself for a slight on Draco's character or an attack on his own judgment. "Is it true he has a Hebridean Black tattooed on his hip?"

Harry choked out a surprised laugh. He and Draco hadn't done anything more than share a few snogs, so he had no idea whether the blond had a dragon tattoo or not, though he was definitely interested in finding out.

"Ginny," he said, sitting up so he could look down at her sternly. "I have no idea, and even if I did know, I certainly wouldn't tell you."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, a smile curving her lips. She felt better after laying her concerns on the line for Harry. She'd missed him while he'd been distant and reserved, and if a relationship with Draco Malfoy was what it took to bring him back to himself, she'd endorse it wholeheartedly. She knew most of Harry's friends would agree with her. The change in the dark-haired boy had been slow but noticeable over the last few weeks, and she hoped the trend continued.

"A Hebridean Black? Really?" Harry asked, the speculative gleam in his eyes making Ginny roar with delighted laughter.

***

December 1998

"That was amazing!" Draco propped his broom against the bank of lockers, gesturing wildly with his other hand. "I had no idea how much I missed that."

Harry grinned, running a hand through his hopelessly windblown hair. He was elated that he'd managed to get Draco back on a broom at all, let alone to play a Seeker's game with him. They'd spent the last hour in the air, catching and releasing the Snitch again and again until the snowy winter air had chased them inside, their Quidditch leathers frozen stiff.

"Bit rusty, though," he teased, opening his fist slightly to let the light glint off the Snitch he held in his palm. It fluttered weakly, the soft sweep of its wings tickling his skin.

"Two out of six against the youngest Seeker in Hogwarts' history is hardly something to be embarrassed about," Draco sniffed in mock outrage, peeling his tunic off and letting it drop to the floor.

The blond's fingers moved to unfasten his trousers, and Harry made a strangled noise. The sound must have been louder than Harry realized, because Draco stopped, his fingers hovering over his fly. He followed Harry's gaze, distress clouding his mind as he realized he'd exposed his left forearm without thinking. It had been over a year since he'd let anyone see him without a shirt on, but he'd been so exhilarated from their game that he hadn't realized what he was doing. Being back in the Quidditch locker room had felt so normal, so much like old times that he'd actually managed to forget.

He pulled his arm close to his chest, cradling it against his torso to hide the ugly tattoo that stood out in stark contrast against his pale flesh. When he looked up at Harry, though, he was surprised to find interest, not the loathing or condemnation he'd expected.

"May I?"

Draco slowly extended his arm, his jaw set tightly as he held his breath, waiting for Harry's reaction. The Dark Mark was a symbol of everything Harry had fought against and a reminder of everything Harry had lost. The fact that he carried it had given Draco pause more than once, stopping him from urging the other boy to take things further. As much as he wanted a real relationship with Harry, part of him worried he'd be corrupting him by touching him with such soiled, sordid skin.

His eyes locked on Draco's, Harry slid his fingers up his arm, gently extending it further and fully exposing the Mark. Draco shuddered as Harry's thumb caressed the skin softly, the ink warming and almost seeming to coming alive at the touch.

Harry's eyes widened, his mouth going dry at the sight of Draco so obviously aroused by his touch. Cradling Draco's arm between them, Harry let his gaze drop to the ugly tattoo. He'd seen a fair amount of them, but never this close. Upon further scrutiny, he had to admit there was a certain grace and beauty in the lines of the snake. The stark black ink looked menacing against the pale skin of Draco's inner arm. The tattoo itself was raised slightly, and it quivered as the rough pad of Harry's finger traced it.

"Is this alright?" Harry murmured, his finger slowly mapping the Mark as his gaze rose to study Draco's face.

"Yes." Draco gasped quietly as Harry's exploration continued, his eyes drifting shut at the pleasure of having someone else touch the Mark.

"Is it always like this when someone touches it?" Harry couldn't help but ask, a niggle of jealousy creeping into his chest.

"No," Draco whispered, opening his eyes. Harry's growing erection surged at the pure lust he saw in the grey eyes.

"No?" Harry trailed his thumb down to the pulse point in Draco's wrist, reveling in the feel of the blond's racing heart, knowing that it had been his touch to illicit that reaction.

"No," Draco said again, shivering when Harry began to gently knead the fleshy part of his palm, feathering soft touches up his lifeline. "Just you."

Harry's brows rose. Aside from their fight in McGonagall's classroom, he was unaware of ever having touched Draco's Mark.

"That day in the Room of Requirement," Draco said softly, seeing the question in Harry's expression. "When you grabbed me. It was like –" he licked his lips, shame crashing through him. Vince had been dying, and he'd been getting turned on by a meaningless touch. "– it was like lightning."

Harry ghosted his fingers across the Mark again, fascinated by the way Draco's pupils exploded at the touch. He'd heard the hitch in the blond's voice, felt how his muscles had tensed at the mention of the Room of Requirement. It must have been hard for Draco, having the memory of his friend's death tied together with one of pleasure.

"And now?" Harry asked, his voice slightly hoarse with desire and apprehension.

"Now it feels just as good, but less shocking," Draco said with a self-deprecating smile.

Harry grinned in return, kneeling at Draco's feet without releasing his arm. At Draco's questioning look, Harry merely shrugged.

"I want to try something. You'll tell me if I hurt you?" Doubt chased away his confident smirk, the trepidation he'd felt earlier returning.

"You won't," Draco assured him, even though he had no idea what Harry was planning to do. No matter what it was, though, he was sure it wouldn't be painful. And even if it was – well, that wasn't always a bad thing. He doubted Harry was ready for that kind of a confession, though.

Harry nodded, settling himself comfortably on the floor. He hesitated for a moment, then took his glasses off. When he looked up again, Draco's face was blurry, but he could still clearly see the Dark Mark that he was practically nose to nose with. Steeling himself for a negative reaction from Draco, Harry leaned forward, pressing his tongue to the dark ink.

Draco stiffened, his jaw clenching painfully as he tried to suppress a moan. Harry's touch faltered, but after another moment of indecision, he continued, tracing along the raised tattoo, following the swooping design of the snake. He grew concerned as Draco's breathing became more ragged, but before he could pull away again, Draco's fingers twined in his hair, massaging his scalp.

"Merlin," Draco gasped, arching into Harry's touch. His erection pressed painfully against his trousers, every swirl of Harry's tongue going straight to his cock.

Harry released his arm, sitting back on his heels. His green eyes were nearly black with arousal, and Draco's pulse jumped when he saw that the dark-haired boy had been similarly affected. He moved to slide down to the floor, but Harry stopped him with a hand against his knee.

"I want to try something else," he whispered, his lips curving into a grin.

Draco was wholly unprepared for what happened next. One minute Harry was kneeling there in front of him, and the next he was bent over Draco's arm, hissing in what had to be Parseltongue. A white hot bolt of arousal shot through Draco, making him gasp out loud. The snake, which had never done more than wiggle before, was now sinuously stretching, slithering along his forearm.

Draco swallowed hard, using every ounce of his willpower to keep himself from coming in his trousers then and there. Harry speaking in Parseltongue was undeniably the hottest thing he had ever heard, but coupled with the mind-blowing sensation of having his Dark Mark literally dance on his arm, it was almost too much to bear.

"Harry," he groaned, not sure how much more he could take.

Harry looked up, worried at the desperate tone of Draco's voice. His heart nearly stopped when he saw how wanton the blond looked. Heavy-lidded eyes begging for release, faintly flushed cheeks and lips that were red and slightly swollen from the bite of sharp teeth as Draco struggled to hold back his moans.

"Fuck," Harry breathed, not realizing he was still speaking in Parseltongue.

Draco's Dark Mark throbbed in response to Harry's hiss, slithering down his arm and wrapping around his wrist. He didn't wait to see what it would do next, choosing instead to slide to his knees, coming to rest mere inches from Harry.

Unsure of what to do next, Harry simply stared at Draco. Harry had wanked dozens of times over the last few weeks to thoughts of Draco, but now he wasn't sure how to proceed. From the looks of things, Draco wanted this as much as he did, but he had no idea if the blond was any more experienced than he was. Before he could panic any further, though, the other boy closed the gap between them, crushing their bodies together and capturing his mouth in a brutal kiss.

Harry moaned at the feel of Draco's cock against his own, only their Quidditch leathers between them. His hips angled forward of their own accord, seeking more friction against the answering hardness. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, came up to fist in soft, blond hair. He parted his lips when he felt Draco's tongue caress them, a thrill running through him when the other boy began to explore his mouth.

Draco hips pressed against Harry's insistently, setting a rough pace as he frotted against him. He let his hands rove over Harry's body, cupping his arse. Harry groaned against his lips, his breath catching as Draco's strong thumbs mapped the curve of his cheeks before hooking into the pockets and using them as leverage to force them even closer together.

Draco crested first, his grip on Harry tightening as he came. Harry deepened the kiss, swallowing Draco's gasps and cries, his own arousal building even more as the other boy convulsed against him. Spent, Draco broke the kiss, slightly embarrassed that he'd lost control so completely. He leaned against Harry, catching his breath and gathering his wits. After a moment, Harry rubbed against his hip, and Draco laughed at his impatience. He let go of Harry's pockets, backing up slightly so he had enough room to maneuver as he fumbled with the zipper and buttons on the other boy's trousers, opening them just enough to allow him to thrust his hand inside.

Harry jolted as Draco's warm hand wrapped around his aching erection, the old Quidditch calluses on his palm providing a delicious contrast against the soft skin as he began to stroke. Harry bit his lip, squeezing his eyes closed as Draco pumped harder, groaning when the blond dipped his head and began to nuzzle against Harry's neck, sharp teeth nipping against soft, salty skin. Harry gasped, his entire body shuddering violently as he began to come, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through him. Draco continued to stroke him, milking the last of his orgasm out of him, his tongue now soothing the bite marks he'd made on Harry's neck.

"Jesus," Harry gasped, his legs quivering with the effort of remaining upright. He grimaced, his knees protesting as he shifted slightly, suddenly aware of just how hard the cold, stone floor he was kneeling on was.

"Mmm." Draco mouthed his way up Harry's jaw before claiming his lips again in an almost chaste kiss before pulling away, shifting so he could pull his hand out of Harry's open trousers.

Harry's harsh breathing echoed off the stone walls, the sound amplified by the cavernous showers behind them. He swallowed thickly, the enormity of what they had just done crashing over him.

"Wow," he said, unsure of where to let his gaze settle. Draco's lips were swollen from their kisses, his naked torso flushed from his orgasm, his Mark still undulating slightly.

"Yeah." Draco said, awkwardly wiping his hand against his leather trousers. His cheeks darkened as the movement caused the tattoo to brush against his side, sending a shiver through him. "We should shower."

"We should."

Mortification growing, Draco stood, holding his hand out to help Harry up and retracting it quickly when he realized he'd reached out automatically with his left arm.

Harry got to his feet on his own, one hand clutching his opened trousers to keep them in place. They bumped against each other as they moved toward the bank of shower stalls, making Harry stutter with self-consciousness and panic.

"S-separately. We should shower separately."

Draco's eyes widened marginally, his blush spreading to his neck.

"Of course! I didn't, I wouldn't –"

"I know! I mean, never mind. Er, I'll just – here." Harry stumbled into the nearest shower stall, pulling the curtain taut behind him.

He leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against the cool tile. He had no idea what had just happened. Surely he hadn't used Draco's Dark Mark to get him off – had he? Harry was torn between satiation and uneasiness; he didn't like the implications of him being able to manipulate Draco's Mark.

Harry relaxed slightly when he heard a shower a few stalls away turn on. Lecturing himself roundly for once again bounding into uncharted territory without forethought – as well as for being a pervert – Harry shucked his own clothes and draped them over the rod, checking the shower's cubby hole to make sure he had a towel before turning the cold water on full blast and stepping under the spray.

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More tomorrow! *smirks*