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"Harry. Come in." Kingsley sounded worn-out, but his smile was still warm as he leaned back in his chair and spelled the office door shut. "I assume that whatever you need to talk to me about is strictly confidential?" Another wand movement, and two bottles of Firewhisky soared out of a hidden cabinet in the wall that Harry thought Scrimgeour would have been absolutely amazed to know about.

Harry accepted one of the bottles, gave Kingsley a small smile, and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. "Yes, actually," he said. "I came to talk to you about clearing Snape and Malfoy's names further. Draco Malfoy," he added quickly. So far as Harry was concerned, Lucius deserved everything he got.

Kingsley opened his bottle and sipped at the liquid inside without saying anything for long moments. Then he said, "The evidence that cleared them is incontrovertible, but also complicated, and it requires a long time to view. The Wizengamot hates that kind of evidence. They much prefer a touching story. Politically, I think that I've done about everything I can do for them."

Harry opened his own bottle so that he wouldn't seem rude, but held it away from his lips instead of drinking. "But you could issue a full pardon," he said quietly. "I know it wouldn't make everyone leave them alone, but it would give them legal freedom to travel around and hold any job they could find, with anyone who would hire them."

Kingsley gave him a wry look. "I told some of the Wizengamot they would rue it when your friend Hermione started studying law. They didn't believe me."

Harry didn't smile back. "I'm not doing this at Hermione's instigation," he said. "It's for me. Well, for them, technically, but she still didn't put me up to it."

"That does change things," Kingsley said, though he didn't say why. "And why do you want them pardoned so badly? Four months ago, the house arrest the Wizengamot put them under was enough for you."

Harry winced. He had known this would come up sooner or later, and he didn't think he could put off revealing it to at least a few people, especially since he would need to spend time in the same house with Snape and Malfoy. Besides, he thought he could trust Kingsley not to talk. He pulled up his robe sleeves and showed the phoenixes.

Kingsley leaned forwards to look at them, his eyebrows going up. "So that's what Skeeter meant when she said that you defeated You-Know-Who with 'ancient magic,'" he murmured.

"She doesn't actually know anything about it," Harry said. He knew Skeeter didn't, even from spying in her beetle form, or she would have made her story much more detailed. Instead, she'd concocted sentence after sentence stretching the concept of "ancient magic" as far as it would go. "But yeah. I saw Voldemort about to kill Snape and Malfoy. I willed them to live. These—" he rubbed his hands over the intertwined birds, and wondered if it was his imagination that they felt a bit warmer than before "—are the signs of the magic that did it, and killed Voldemort, too. They created bonds between me and Snape and Malfoy."

Kingsley narrowed his eyes. "I see," he said, voice unusually precise. "And are they blackmailing you by threatening to reveal this bond?"

Harry blinked, caught off-guard. "What? No!"

"Can they cause you physical pain if you don't do what they wish?" Kingsley was looking at the phoenixes as Harry had never seen anyone look at them, as if by themselves the marks were a brand of evil like the Dark Mark.

Snape and Malfoy's marks were the Dark Mark, and you looked at them like that at first, too. Harry took a deep breath and focused on an image that Ledbetter had taught him, an iron spiral which dissolved slowly into fiery particles. It helped to keep him calm by forcing his brain to pay attention to a complex image for a few seconds, until he felt ready to return to the conversation. "No. I'm the one in control of the bond, actually, and I can cause them pain if I want to." Kingsley simply looked at him and waited for him to go on, so Harry elaborated with a sigh. "The marks seemed to have a side-effect, or maybe that's the bond itself, where they spend too much time thinking about me. To keep them from blackmailing me or threatening me in the future, I want to get them interested in other things. Brewing potions. Quidditch. That kind of thing." Harry spread his hands. "But they can't do that if they can't go outside the house safely."

"Well." Kingsley's voice had deepened, and he nodded twice before he folded his hands in front of him. "Yes. I think I see the strategic advantage it would mean if you could be protected from the manipulations of two individuals who have a unique closeness to you and none of your best friends' loyalty."

Harry relaxed. Though Kingsley's interpretation was more political than his, they agreed on the same thing, and it was good to know he'd have some support. "Then you'll do it?"

"As long as you give me your word that you'll consider other restrictions on their movements if the time comes that they're doing something wrong with this increased freedom, and we have evidence of it." Kingsley put up a hand when Harry opened his mouth. "And as long as you set up certain barriers against them. I know that Severus Snape is a hero, in some respects, but he's too often willing to let the ends justify the means. And Malfoy may yet follow in his father's footsteps. He's an unknown factor. I want to see a sample of his independent decisions before I make a final judgment on him. I don't want either of them in control of someone I fully expect to become one of my best Aurors, Harry. Am I clear?"

Harry flushed with pleasure. It was the first indication that he had of Kingsley approving his abilities personally, instead of just as someone who had to be treated with respect because he'd won the war. He stood up, holding Kingsley's eyes. "I can promise, sir," he said, "I don't want anyone to ever control me again. I'll fight them if they try."

Kingsley nodded, a faint smile on his face. "Good. Then I'll arrange the pardons. It's still a large load of legal paperwork at a time when we're held down by the paperwork from the Death Eater trials—"

"I wouldn't expect it tomorrow, Minister," Harry said quickly. The last thing he wanted to create was the impression that he was demanding, or that he expected impossible things to be done for him just because he was the "Chosen One."

"But you do need them soon," Kingsley said calmly, "for understandable reasons. All right. A week should be the most I need." He held out his hand. "Being bonded to one person, let alone two other people, is an immense responsibility I wouldn't wish even on Snape. But I do trust you, Harry."

Harry shook his hand hard, and tried to ignore the nagging doubt that the only reason Kingsley trusted him was because he'd been lucky enough to kill Voldemort with accidental magic he barely understood. If he listened to doubts like that the whole time, then he might as well start listening to Snape and Malfoy right now.

*

"Potter! A word."

Draco practically had to sprint down the stairs to catch Potter, who was stepping out the front door of Spinner's End as though it was his mission that morning to personally conquer the Ministry. Potter turned around, his face set and his arms folded. He couldn't have presented a less welcoming front to Draco if he was purposely imitating Mad-Eye Moody.

Draco jerked himself to a stop at the foot of the steps and tried his best to smile at Potter instead of scowl at him. So far, he hadn't got a chance to try Severus's advice about being more pleasant because Potter was never fucking around. He got up early for breakfast, which was his promised hour in the house in the morning, went to Auror training all day, ate dinner with his friends, and then came back for an hour in the evening before he went to bed. He'd made his own set of rooms with a wizardspace addition to the house, and never entered the same room Draco was in if he could help it.

It was probably enough for the bond, since neither Draco nor Severus had collapsed with convulsions in the week Potter had been doing that. But neither did it further the bond, and Draco could see the frustration in the whiteness around Severus's lips whenever he happened to glimpse the phoenix mark on his arm.

In the interests of not having Severus explode at Potter in a flurry of insults that would push their agenda back further than anything Draco could do, Draco would do what he could. So, now, he pushed a friendly fake smile onto his face and said, "I never see you around here. I thought you were going to spend more time with us."

Potter blinked. "I am."

Draco found his hands clenching into fists, and quickly opened them and stuck them behind his back, hoping that Potter hadn't noticed. "Time talking to us," he said. "Time getting to know us. What you're doing now isn't that."

"No, it isn't." Potter leaned one shoulder on the front door and squinted at Draco thoughtfully. Draco wanted to comment on the fact that his glasses made Potter look like an owl. He manfully resisted the urge. "I don't really want to do that. It's enough that you have access to my emotions—"

Draco started. He had, in fact, forgotten about that. Most of the time, Potter's emotions, now that he was used to them, were a soft dull hum in the back of his mind, and it took effort to concentrate and bring up the images they had given him when they were new. He did it now, and saw Potter's calm, unyielding determination as a wall of steel.

"—But I understand that you have to have that to survive. It would be like denying someone food they needed just because you didn't like the smell." Potter ran his tongue along his teeth. "But that doesn't mean I willingly have to give you anything else."

Draco hissed under his breath. "And you think that's the way to become comfortable with us? To live like—like friends?" He couldn't yet bring up Severus's contention that they would need to make Potter their lover, even if it would make excellent taunting material. "By rushing away from us as soon as you can and telling us flatly you'll refuse us anything more than the basic necessities?"

Unexpectedly, Potter laughed. "And what would you do if I had to have access to your emotions to survive, Malfoy? Would you really want to spend any more time around me than you could help?"

Draco opened his mouth, then shut it. The simple truth was that, no, he wouldn't. Especially because Potter would probably take any chance he saw him to try out new taunts, and the taunts would be worse than ever because he'd have accurate information from feeling Draco's emotions.

"Exactly," Potter said. "I'm trying to make things more comfortable for all of us, and it's more comfortable for me not to be around you."

"That sounds rude," was the most Draco could come up with. He was thinking now of what would happen if Potter should open the bonds the other way and learn about his and Severus's emotions, and he didn't like it at all, even though it had seemed so reasonable only a week ago when they were first talking about it. He scowled at his left arm. I think this phoenix mark is messing with my head.

Potter shrugged. "I don't really care." His face brightened and turned mischievous, the way Draco had seen it right before he tried a dive in Quidditch. The vision in Draco's head was of a brilliant scarlet-robed Quidditch player, in fact, and he tried not to shiver as the happiness ran through his body. Yes, that was pleasant for more reasons than its intensity, and he would give a lot to make Potter experience it on a regular basis. "Besides, I'll have some news that will make you more comfortable tonight, too."

"What?" Draco demanded, shuffling closer. "Severus hasn't said anything."

"It's really strange how you call him by his first name, you know," Potter complained, and then rushed on before Draco could say anything indignant about sharing the same cell together. "No, I decided to tell you first. I thought you should get to have a secret from him once in a while."

"What makes you think he has secrets from me?"

"The way he's always brewing in the lab, with the door closed?" Potter tossed his head in the direction of Severus's lab, hard enough to make the fringe fly off his forehead. The door was, Draco had to admit, closed at the moment. "Don't tell me that doesn't make you wonder." His grin was pure slyness, pure Hogwarts, and Draco found himself smiling back before he could comprehend what he was doing.

He tried to stop at once, but Potter continued blithely, "You'll have a pardon today. Or maybe tomorrow, knowing the way the Ministry works. A full legal pardon. You won't be under house arrest anymore." He grinned even more widely at Draco.

"A pardon?" Draco blurted, and he knew he sounded absolutely shocked and gauche, and he couldn't do anything about that either.

Potter nodded. "Thought you might like to know," he said, and tapped Draco on the shoulder with a closed fist before he looked at his watch, muttered, "Ledbetter will rip my head off," and ducked out the door.

Draco stood there, blinking. He wasn't sure what was more wondrous: the fact of the pardon—

Or the fact that Potter had wanted to share a secret with him before he shared it with Severus, and touched him in a friendly manner.

That was nice, whether or not he meant it to be.

*

Severus had had enough of Potter's cowardly behavior. It was almost a fortnight since they had made the agreement to live together, a week since the pardon, and Potter still ate his breakfast and dashed out of the house as if his arse were on fire. Then, when he came home at night, he stayed in his own rooms, the doors locked, until he slept. Sometimes, if they pushed especially hard, Severus or Draco would be favored with a single irritated look.

Potter no doubt considered he was keeping his end of the bargain. But it did not lend itself to his easy seduction, and so Severus held a different viewpoint.

He went that evening to the polished wooden door that marked the entrance to Potter's wizardspace, and knocked. In one hand he held a single bottle of the elf-wine that had been James Potter's favorite. If he could not gain entrance to Potter's sympathy through appeals to the natural Gryffindor sense of fairness, Severus was not above bribery.

The door opened on the sixth knock, and Potter stuck his head out. His hair was matted flat along the side of his head, and his eyes held a particular glazed look that Severus was familiar with, having seen plenty of his students fall asleep over their homework in his time. He steeled himself against the temptation to think of Potter as a child. He was not, and neither was Draco, not after the horrors they had witnessed. They were more than of age in the wizarding world, both eighteen, and Potter was training for a career that involved battling Dark wizards. Draco showed flashes of maturity almost daily now.

Severus would not allow the frustration he could feel through the bond, rushing and boiling like a Pepper-Up Potion, to discourage him, either. He solemnly held out the bottle of wine.

"I'm too busy to drink right now," Potter said dismissively, and started to shut the door.

Severus snarled before he could stop himself. He'd intended to maintain a pleasant demeanor with Potter all evening, but that would not work if Potter refused to be the least bit pleasant to him. "I was considering conversation among the possibilities," he said. "But, of course, if you are too busy to learn more of one of the people you will spend the rest of your life tied to…" He shrugged and turned away, trying furiously to control his own bitterness.

"No. Wait."

Potter's frustration had subsided into the tingling chill that Severus recognized as his uncertainty. He turned back and waited.

Potter ran a hand through his hair, looked down the corridor as if a clock hung there that he intended to count the hours on, and gnawed his lip. Then he nodded decisively and swung the door open further. "Come on in," he said.

Severus kept his face neutral as he stepped across the threshold. He had not expected an invitation to Potter's rooms tonight. At best, he had hoped Potter would condescend to join him in Severus's own library or study.

"I'm sorry it's a mess," Potter said, pushing ineffectually at the stack of papers on top of one desk. The room had three desks altogether, several shelves loaded with books and more papers, and two hard wooden chairs; Severus surreptitiously drew his wand and cast a Cushioning Charm on the seat he intended to take for his own. Beyond the largest set of bookshelves was a doorway that Severus suspected led to Potter's bedroom. Everything seemed to be decorated in shades of brown and white, though the overwhelming mass of parchment might well contribute to that impression. Potter looked around helplessly, then took the other chair. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Your plan of refusing our company would be a good start," Severus said dryly, conjuring a pair of glasses into which he could pour the wine. He would not trust anything in Potter's rooms to have escaped the dust infestation.

Potter sat back a little and shifted, his arms folding. Severus would have been able to mark his rising defensiveness by those gestures even if the bond had not conveyed it to him. Dark stone, this emotion was, pocked with holes like those found in pumice. "I was leaving you alone," he muttered. "It seemed to be the best arrangement for everyone involved."

Severus sneered. "You made 'the best arrangement' without consulting us, Potter?"

Strangely, Potter relaxed at that, and Severus remembered that it was an outburst of temper that had persuaded Potter to invite him in, too. "Well, yeah," Potter said. "You obviously want more out of me than I can give, and if anyone hands you anything, you demand even more. Malfoy's already complaining that people still look at him suspiciously when he goes out in public, as if the pardon could help with that." He rolled his eyes.

Severus held out the wineglass, and Potter accepted it, his eyes darting back and forth between the liquid and Severus's hand, as if he might have dropped in a poison with Potter unaware of it.

"Draco is still young, and has much to learn," Severus said smoothly. "As do you, Potter, particularly about what other people want from you."

Potter snorted and folded his arms again. The wineglass snagged in the folds of his shirt. Severus winced as half the wine slopped out on the floor. Potter slammed the glass onto the table he'd been studying at earlier and stood up. "I know plenty about what the Ministry wants from me," he said, the bond tarry with bitterness, "and Malfoy, and you. More. I told you that. More and more, all the time." He spun around and glared at Severus. "Fuck you. You're not getting more than the absolute minimum you need to stay healthy."

Severus caught his breath in spite of himself. He had never seen Potter angry without thinking him insolent and wanting to punish him for it. But the barrier between student and professor was not the same as the one between them now—or rather, the one that Potter was trying to put there. And Severus had given himself permission to notice Potter's attractiveness.

He was beautiful.

In a scrawny, underfed, overworked way, Severus acknowledged a moment later, not wishing to grow soft. But there was still a kind of beauty there, hard and lean, like a hound bred to the hunt.

Sleeping with him will not be such a hardship after all.

"You can't tell me, Snape," Potter was going on in a hectoring tone, "that you would be happy with people invading your head and eating your emotions and demanding more of you still. You can't—"

"No." Severus rose to his feet. He would not take a lesser role where Potter was concerned, in any sense. Potter simply glared at him, unimpressed, and Severus wondered whether the action had been wasted. "But that is because I handle such situations in a different way than you have. When my life was in danger, I bowed my head and endured. When the Dark Lord rummaged in my mind, picking through my memories and fouling them with his touch, I hid my true feelings behind Occlumency barriers. And when I was a spy, when I had no choice but to be a spy, I carried that burden."

Potter sneered at him. "Well, I don't want to," he said. "The war is over, and now I should be able to live my life the way I want."

Severus sneered back. He was quite confident that he was still the teacher in the matter of that particular facial expression. "No one can do exactly as they want, Potter, not even the Ministry's Golden Child."

"And I won't!" Potter yelled. The bookshelves began to rattle ominously. "I'll obey the laws and I'll do publicity if Kingsley absolutely insists, and I'll bite my tongue when Ron says something wrongheaded and when Mrs. Weasley sends food home with me that I'll never eat. But I won't become friends with you, I won't obey you, I won't be your pet or whatever else it is that you want!"

His eyes shone furiously, and now all that lean beauty was engaged against Severus. Potter really looked as if he might lunge forwards and bite him at any moment. Severus caught his breath again. His estimation of his permanent position in relation to Potter underwent a drastic change. It was clear that nothing would be permanent when it came to their life together.

"I believe you are overexcited, Potter," he began, intending to calm him down so that they could have a productive discussion of the bond.

Potter snarled at him, and then Severus was abruptly standing outside the door to Potter's wizardspace, though he knew he had not walked there and the wards on the house should have prevented him from Apparating even if he desired to do so.

Forcible Apparition, he decided, after a moment's stunned stillness. That must be another side-effect of the bond. It is true that it would help Potter greatly in pulling us out of danger, should we venture into it.

He could have knocked and forced another confrontation, but he preferred to retire to his own rooms and consider why that tactic had not worked.

And how he was to choose one that would.

*

Hermione shook her head. "I've considered it from every angle, Harry. I don't think that anything Snape said in that original letter to you was untrue." She brightened and pushed the books she had on the table across to him. "But I don't think the bond requires anything additional. You can read these if you like, though. They should explain everything to you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to be able to understand them, Hermione."

She looked disappointed. "But with just a little practice, anyone can read books like these and—"

"Thanks for helping me, but no." Harry stood up. He had already seen Ginny peer into the Burrow's kitchen, where he and Hermione had retreated with the books after dinner was done, twice. He wanted to go out to her and reassure her. She looked almost sick with worry.

Hermione sighed and waved her wand so that all the books floated together in a pile. "All right, but I think it would be better if you could research this for yourself."

Harry smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Hermione. I trust you absolutely."

Flushing and obviously pleased, and as obviously trying to hide it, Hermione still gave him a minor lecture about adult responsibilities. Harry nodded patiently to every fourth word, always a good proportion in a situation like this, and finally Hermione left the kitchen. Ginny stepped inside immediately.

The expression on her face made Harry hold out his hand. "We should walk in the garden," he said, the first thing that came into his mind. "It's not a bad night."

"For the middle of November, no, it isn't," Ginny muttered, but she let him lead her.

Harry cast several Warming Charms as they stepped out into the snow. Ginny could have cast them herself, he knew that, but she relaxed as they took effect and gave him that sideways smile he loved .Harry took her hand, and they walked for several minutes before Ginny cleared her throat and turned to face him.

Harry looked down at her, and tried to fight back his shock. She looked fragile at the moment, with her pale cheeks and her freckles standing out like dots of blood, which wasn't a word he had ever applied to Ginny. He wanted to take her in his arms, but he wondered if she would take it the wrong way. He settled for clasping her hands instead.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"Look, Harry," Ginny said, her voice infinitely sad, "if you want me to leave you alone so that you can concentrate on Snape and Malfoy, then you need to let me go. At least tell me honestly." By the end of the sentence, the sick look had left her face, and her cheeks were a little flushed.

Harry blinked at her. "Why would you say that?" he asked helplessly. "Ginny, I love you. And what I feel for them is so far from love that—"

"I read about bonds like this." Ginny turned away from him and wrapped her arms around herself as if the Warming Charms had had no effect. "They're usually used in marriages or adoptions. Adoptions are different, where there's already an overwhelming amount of one kind of love. But they're used in marriages because the sharing is so deep that it always leads to romantic love." She glanced at him sideways. "And I thought you must be interested in sleeping with them because you haven't wanted to sleep with me."

Harry ran his hand through his hair and stared at his feet. Then he sighed and said, "Gin, I haven't slept with you yet because I was worried that I would mess it up."

Ginny looked at him with her lips parted, and Harry thought she'd never seemed so appealing.

"I'm nervous," he said. "I've never done it before." He was talking quickly now, and he knew his cheeks were burning with embarrassment, but saying anything was preferable to Ginny thinking he was like that with Snape and Malfoy. "And I don't have the bonds open so I can feel their emotions, and I'm trying to stay away from them as much as I can so we don't share more than we have to, and—"

He had to stop when Ginny clapped her mouth onto his. Harry opened his at once, in sheer relief, and shivered as Ginny's tongue twined with his.

"But that changes everything," Ginny whispered, stepping away from him and squeezing his hands. "Don't you see? I thought you really wanted the bond with Snape and Malfoy, or that you were being pulled into it despite yourself, and that you didn't really want me." Her smile turned sly. "And now that I know you're nervous, I think we should go make you less nervous."

Harry hesitated one moment. He still wasn't sure, his stomach was fluttering and cramping, and he—

But Ginny's face fell, and Harry couldn't bear to see her look like that.

"Yeah, we should," he said, and basked in her brilliant smile.

*

Potter was having sex.

Draco clenched his fingers into his sheets and stared at the ceiling, not sure which he hated more: the feelings of pleasure and astonishment darting through him, or the persistent erection between his legs.

He had felt Potter's anger before without knowing what had caused the anger. Likewise his fear, his exhaustion, and his annoyance, though in the case of the latter two emotions, Draco thought Auror training was a good source for them. But there was no way that he could mistake these feelings for anything else. They were too intense, and the visions that came to him were mixed up with flashes of the Weasley girl's face.

Draco gritted his teeth. "I don't want to seduce Potter," he whispered, as though speaking the words aloud might force the feelings to subside. "That was Severus's idea. I don't."

But the jealousy was there anyway. If Potter was going to feel like that, then Draco thought he and Severus should have been the ones to cause it. Not least because Potter would no doubt come back to the house later grinning like a maniac, and with his hair standing on end because Weasel fingers had touched it, and with his skin marked with the bruises and bites of an energetic Weasel orgy.

Severus knocked sharply on the door and opened it before Draco could do more than drag a sheet over his legs so that his arousal wouldn't be so blatantly obvious. Then Severus stepped into the room, and Draco realized he was erect, as well.

"Potter is—" Severus began.

"I know." Draco rolled away, pounding a fist into the pillow. "And I didn't think it would affect me so badly, but it does," he confessed in a whisper. If they were supposed to be allies, then he thought they should be honest with one another, not trying to hide secrets that Severus could figure out at a glance in any case.

"Then," Severus said, "we might do something about it."

Draco glared over his shoulder. "I didn't think we could force the bonds open and make him feel what we're feeling." His words trailed off into a gasp, his body arching. Potter had either come to orgasm or something very like it. And mixed with the pleasure was wonder, lending a blue-white glow to the formless sea Draco was drowning in.

Severus shook, too, and his face turned pale with effort to hold himself back. "We cannot," he said, when the crest had passed and they both had their voices back, "but we might show him that we are not to be left out."

Draco raised a curious eyebrow, and Severus strode up to the edge of the bed. Draco sat up, having a vague notion of what would happen next, and Severus bent down and kissed him.

It was unlike the other kisses Draco had had before, with Blaise and Pansy; it seemed like a million years since he'd been close enough to his friends to fool around with them like that. But he didn't think it was faded memory that made this particular contact of lips so intense. Draco shuddered and sat up further, his hands flailing for a moment before Severus grabbed them and settled them on his shoulders.

Draco clenched his fingers deep, sensing wiry strength and muscle. Severus's tongue hit his again and again, curling in a way that made Draco decide he was no expert.

Still, he knew more than Draco, and enough to make Draco shiver and press himself close, suddenly thinking of other things that he could do with his erection than will it to subside. Severus pulled back with the most color Draco had ever seen in his cheeks, and a pleased look that turned his eyes to deep wells. Draco snorted a bit as another flash of Weasley's face intruded. He felt more pity than jealousy when it came to Potter now. Potter didn't have this.

It wasn't love that made Severus press him to the bed, but it was knowledge, and deliberate slowness. That showed in the way his fingers pulled Draco's robes off. Draco had always been in a hurry with Blaise and Pansy, afraid that someone would catch them.

Severus was unafraid, and that drew Draco to him as much as anything else. One couldn't call his face handsome, Draco thought, as he bent over Draco after he'd pulled the trousers off and unbuttoned his shirt, but it had a concentrated focus of attention. Draco's cock hardened more.

"I am fortunate," Severus said, not quite under his breath, and stuck his tongue out. It didn't come anywhere near Draco's cock. Draco moaned anyway. Severus shot him another pleased look and then lowered his mouth at last.

Draco tensed at once. "Going to—" he said. He'd never been this aroused, and besides, he was eighteen.

Severus murmured something around his cock, which worsened the problem, but then he pinched behind Draco's balls, and the pain cut through the pleasure. Draco caught his breath and did his best to hold himself still. He'd only ever got Blaise to agree to blow him once, and Blaise had complained the whole time because Draco thrust haphazardly and nearly choked him.

Severus couldn't seem to stop experimenting, turning his head from side to side and licking in a different direction each time. Sometimes he ran his tongue along the bottom of Draco's cock; other times he mouthed the head. His eyes were half-shut, as if evaluating the taste.

This is like making a new potion, for him, Draco thought. He wondered if he should be offended, but the thought was unexpectedly endearing. It was something he knew about Severus, and that lessened the sense of strangeness that came from sleeping with someone older, someone he'd never slept with before.

And then Severus curled his tongue around Draco's erection like a sheath and drew it backwards in a single long, agonizing stroke. Draco lost himself, and bucked, the come drawn out of him in perfect accordance with the movement of Severus's mouth. Severus coughed once, but Draco didn't care. He was limp with afterglow by that time, and he was conscious of how nicely that complemented the pleasure still rolling through him from his bond with Potter.

"Interesting," Severus said, climbing the bed to sit beside him. He was only a bit more flushed than before, but his phoenix mark shone brilliantly. Draco wondered what that was all about, until Severus seized his chin in strong fingers and turned his face upwards.

This time, the kiss was more savage, and Draco curled his leg out of the way so that Severus could have more room for his erection. Severus hissed and tilted his head back. Draco reached out with shaking fingers and began to undo his robes.

He paused at the sight of Severus's cock: purple-red, long and thin. He didn't think there was any way he could get it down his throat without it stabbing him to death. He raised apprehensive eyes to Severus's face.

Severus gave him an amused smile with a dark tinge to it that Draco had never seen before. "Do not worry about it, now," he said. The tone promised that he would ask for Draco to suck him later. "Use your hand."

Draco spat into his hand, remembering vaguely that it had been more pleasant for him when Blaise did that, and started to stroke Severus. Severus shut his eyes again, but made no sound. Draco narrowed his eyes and stroked harder. Still no sound, though he did part his knees more, and the lines in his throat strained out.

I bet that Potter's little Weasley is screaming for him, Draco thought, and reached around to slide his fingers along the crease between Severus's buttocks. He didn't care what kind of noise it was, but Severus was going to make a noise.

Severus made a sharp, whuffling sound of surprise, and his eyes snapped open. Draco smirked at him and licked his fingers where they gripped Severus's cock.

And then Severus came, and Draco caught a blast of it on the cheek before he could scramble safely out of the way. His hand had slipped off, too, but that didn't seem to matter. Severus still shook his way through it, and once uttered a soft grumble. Draco noted it. It'll be louder next time.

Severus opened his eyes at last, and murmured, "A pleasant diversion."

Diversion? Draco drew himself up. "If you're only using me as a substitute for Potter—"

"I have never slept with Potter," Severus said, his voice amused. The extra color was already leaving his cheeks, but he did take Draco's arm in a grip that was delightfully iron to draw him close for another kiss. "How would I know what he's like?" Severus continued, when the kiss was finished. "No, Draco, this was done because we both needed it, and because I seek to strengthen the bonds between us. And because I find you attractive."

Draco grinned in spite of himself, and then allowed Severus to maneuver him so that they were both lying down on the bed. Draco was tucked between Severus's chin and ankles, though with difficulty; he'd grown some in the past year, and Severus was no longer that much taller than he was.

After Severus had fallen asleep, Draco lay staring thoughtfully into the darkness. The bond with Potter had subsided into the small, random flashes of glittering light that meant Potter was asleep and suffering transient emotions in his dreams.

This isn't how I thought my life would turn out.

But for the first time, Draco began to think that he didn't need to spend years being bitter about that.

No, he wasn't in the Manor rebuilding his name and being groomed to take Lucius's place in politics, as he had always thought he would be by his eighteenth year. No, he didn't have adoring followers hanging on his every word. No, he wasn't yet recognized for all the immense talents he could feel bubbling up in him.

But he hadn't done too badly in his first encounter with a judgmental lover, and he could accommodate the bond.

And as he lay there, the first thoughts of what he really wanted to do with his life, and his pardon, began to filter slowly through his head.

*

Severus was waiting for the shutting of the door that would indicate Potter's coming home. He hadn't returned at all last night, though this brief period of time didn't seem to have affected the bond. And now he was trying to sneak up the stairs in the light of dawn, as if he thought that would mean no one had noticed.

Severus shifted carefully away from a sleeping Draco, though he paused a moment to look at him. Draco's hair was pushed away from his face and backwards in an extreme crown, like the ruff of a lion's mane. His hands clasped a corner of pillow, and his mouth was ridiculously open. But he did not look as vulnerable as Severus had expected him to look. He was emerging from his long childhood into manhood at last.

By contrast, he thought, as he opened the door of the bedroom and stepped out onto the landing to confront Potter, I think Potter will look exactly as vulnerable as he should.

But in this as so much else, Potter refused to conform to his expectations. He was bouncing up the stairs no matter how quietly he tried to walk, his eyes brilliant and his cheeks still flushed, as if he had that moment risen from young Miss Weasley's bed. Severus curled his lip.

He would have to steadfastly ignore that Potter, at the moment, looked more attractive than he ever had.

"Snape," Potter said, stopping in front of him with a faint smile. Suddenly, that smile vanished, and his glance darted to the door behind Severus, as if it had just occurred to him that Severus had come from a bedroom not his own. His eyes widened, his cheeks reddened, and he turned confusedly away.

"Enjoy yourself?" Severus asked casually.

Potter cleared his throat several times, swallowed, and then said, "Yeah, I did." He gave Severus a defiant glance, as if to say that he knew they'd sensed him having sex with his girlfriend, and didn't care. "Did you?" And he was already pushing again, already giving Severus an insolent smile.

"Very much so," Severus said, and lowered his voice into the range that he had observed was effective for confusing Potter the other day. "Draco has an enthusiasm for sex that will serve him well in the future, when he becomes even more skilled."

Potter still had that infuriating smile. "So you two are together now?"

"If you mean 'Are you lovers?', then yes," Severus said, and had to repress his sneer. Together was as repellent as any other word he had heard for the process of joining two bodies, accompanied, like all the others, by sniggers and winks and nudges.

One advantage this bond might confer upon us is that the joining of three bodies is rare enough to bring us into a space without such juvenilia.

"Well, good," Potter said, and winked at him, in exactly the way that Severus had wished to avoid. "Maybe that'll improve both your tempers. And it'll give you something to think about that's not me."

And with that, he bounced off up the stairs, radiating golden happiness, and leaving Severus to stare after him in incredulous frustration.

Not only was Potter not jealous of Severus and Draco's attentions to each other, in the way that Severus had intended him to be, but he seemed happy for them, with all the unacceptable soppiness that implied. And of course he would be. He seemed to assume that Severus and Draco becoming lovers meant neither one would want him.

No matter what Severus did, Potter seemed to duck under the possible snares, or spring out of them, or bounce around them. He refused to grant them any lengthy time in his presence, and also seemed to assume that arrangement could endure forever. He disliked people being in his head, but put up with it instead of complaining endlessly about it the way Severus knew Draco would have—and thus offering an exploitable weakness.

For a moment, Severus was assailed by a deep longing to use his knowledge of Potter's emotions to taunt him. But he shook his head impatiently and drowned the thought. No, that would only drive Potter further away.

For the first time, he considered what might happen if they could not capture Potter's attention or make him seek to deepen the bond.

"Sev'rus?"

Severus turned around. Draco stood naked in the bedroom door and scowled at him. "You let the bed get cold."

Draco's hair was still mussed, but his eyes were open now and glinted as he looked at Severus, and his hands were reaching out instead of clenched around a pillow. Altogether, Severus decided that he preferred the alert version of Draco. He strode up to him and lowered his head for a kiss to prove that.

Draco's mouth was warm, his tongue eager.

It may not matter if Potter does not ever come around, Severus thought, after a breathless moment. I have Draco, and he is more than compensation for Potter.

The vision of all three of them united still remained in his mind, he thought, as he reached out to press Draco back into the bed, and he would still try to make it come true, if only because of the benefits it would give him. Potter would find that Severus could be as indomitable in his actions as Potter himself.

But it need not happen immediately.

Something more enjoyable will, instead, he decided, and bit down on Draco's collarbone.