Fair is Fowl, and Fowl is Fair

Summary: Artemis probed too far and too deep, and awoke a sleeping dragon. What he didn't realise was how much he needed an awakening of his own. Artemis Fowl/Harry Potter crossover. Warnings for slash. Artemis/Harry.

NOTE: WARNINGS FOR SLASH

To Cen, for being such a trendsetter. Lol.

The ages of the twins and Marilyn have been bumped up from canon.

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, nor the Macbeth quote from which the title is taken

Chapter Two

After the ubiquitous tour, it seemed almost natural for Potter to walk around the grounds, erecting wards around the castle and casting spells that rendered Fowl Manor 'unplottable'. He never once gave his hosts any sort of trouble. Artemis accompanied him on these excursions, as much out of curiosity as attraction. There were some days he was almost sure Potter was aware of his interest in him, and then others where Artemis felt he was deluding himself. He had been able to pin down some of the wiliest personalities in the world, and yet this singular creature continually eluded him. It was a part of his charm, Artemis felt.

After turning the keep 'unplottable', all without the use of his wand- and Potter had never once asked after it- he then turned to other protections for the castle, most of which involved lots of long, convoluted strings of chants, carving rituals, and strange potions ingredients that consisted of the most bizarre animal odds and ends. Those, combined with their stolen fairy technology and Artemis's own dabbling into programming security systems, probably turned Fowl Manor into the most impregnable castle in the world.

When Artemis the First and Angeline returned from their seventh consecutive world tour with little Marilyn in tow, they found their home the liveliest it had ever been. The twins had returned from skiing in the Alps the week before, and had joined forces with Juliet and their houseguest in attempt after unsuccessful attempt to trip up their older brothers.

"Wherever did you find him, Arty?" Angeline asked of the exquisite young Englishman who had no qualms with tutoring Marilyn in Shelley or roughhousing with the twins. It was like he'd always been a part of their family. As they were speaking, the three young men were outside with a rugby ball, trying to get as dirty as possible while wearing as little as possible. Juliet had been roped into refereeing their match, but she was just taking the opportunity to ogle that much exposed male flesh.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Artemis muttered under his breath.

"Surrey," became the official bland answer.

Where others might have suspected their houseguest of foul play, especially given how he seemed to integrate himself so seamlessly within the household, Artemis had no qualms about that. Potter was a soldier, not a politician, and from the longing he shot the twins whenever they tag-teamed with Marilyn to sneak her out of etiquette classes, he knew that family was sacred to him. He would make no move against them while he lived under their roof. Once he left, however, was a different story entirely.

Despite the twins and Marilyn constantly clamouring for his attention, Potter still found time to have spend each evening and twilight with him around the grounds. It had become somewhat of a routine, that they would wordlessly fall into step with each other in the light of the setting sun, Butler trailing them inconspicuously. Sometimes they would walk, other times ride steeds from the stable, but there was never a set pattern. Neither of them could afford such carelessness.

It was on their way back one crisp autumn night that they ran across the twins, doing whatever infuriating things it was that twins their age did. While Myles and Beckett made it a point to frequently make open declarations of their intolerance for each other, they were still more often than not found in each other's company. Potter waved merrily at them as they walked briskly past, trying unsuccessfully to hide the half-naked Juliet between them. It might have been a slightly easier task if Juliet had wanted to be hidden, and hadn't waved cheerfully back.

"Are they not searching for you?" he asked, trying to erase the thought of his little brothers and Butler's little sister from his head. It would only be a matter of time before his bodyguard found out- and just where was he at the moment, he wondered- and Artemis found himself earnestly hoping he wouldn't be around for the prospective fireworks.

The other man shrugged casually, catching onto his inflection almost naturally. "They could be. For all I know, they actively are. I am, after all, supposedly only just their greatest asset," he drawled. The words themselves were self-absorbed and pompous, but Potter's voice still ached with something unknown.

"Do you ever miss it? Anything about it?"

Potter flung himself ungraciously on the grass. When Artemis just stared down at him, he grinned back up, and patted the part of the knoll hill beside him. "Have a seat."

Gingerly, Artemis sat down beside him. "The magic," Potter told him. "It's the magic. I came to the realisation just the other day that I don't care about the people, honestly; I haven't in years. But there isn't anything quite like the magic. Then again," he said, a little sadly, "I can use it anywhere I like, so there isn't any real cause to miss...anything, is there?"

He shook his head as if to rid himself of such thoughts, and then with a wave of his hand, caused a plate of gingersnap cookies to appear in his palm. For the second time that day, when Artemis stared at him blankly, the man gave him a crooked smile. "Gingersnap cookies," he said simply. "They're your favourite, aren't they?"

Hesitantly, Artemis reached out and took one. At Potter's continued urging, he bit into it. It was delicious, almost as good as the ones Juliet would make for him on her days off. Then he inwardly winced, trying not to think of Juliet, as thoughts of Juliet inevitably led to thoughts of Juliet with his brothers, which inevitably led to thoughts of what Butler would do to his brothers once he found out-

"It's good," he said instead.

Potter smiled. "Good." He took one himself and gobbled it eagerly, as if he'd been starved for a week. Come to think of it, Potter ate all of his meals like that, as if they were going to be his last.

"Why do you eat like that?" he asked curiously. Artemis had his suspicions, of course, but he still wanted to hear it from the source.

The man looked down at the crumbling cookie in his hand as if he hadn't realised the destruction he had wrought. "What? Oh, this." He scattered the rest of the biscuit out over the hill, smiling when birds began swooping down and pecking at the ground. "It's a terrible habit, I know. I already grew out of it once, but then something happened...and I told myself that being a fed fool was better than being a dead fool who'd minced his manners at the table."

The words chilled Artemis to the bone, and he didn't quite know why. He had seen worse things happened, heard worse tales, even caused worse things, but there was something about this man in front of him, grinning at nothing in particular, that invoked a feeling in him he'd forgotten had even existed.

"Why, Artemis?" Potter asked.

"Why what?"

Potter leaned back on his elbows and let his head hang, baring the long line of his throat. He was still smiling. "Why all the questions when you aren't going to do anything about it?"

Artemis froze. "How do you know I'm not?"

"I haven't told you anything worth telling in the past six months. I think your patience only extends so far to these kinds of matters. If you'd wanted some genuine news, I think I would have found myself back in that cell much sooner. As it is, I'm hoping I haven't guessed wrong, and you aren't seriously considering having Butler haul some Potter arse back down there." His lips quirked up a little sideways at that.

"There...there is still so much left to know," the genius whispered. The realisation that he'd actually forgotten about pressing Potter about his world was slightly unnerving, to say the least. It had almost given his game away…and he'd always been en pointe, efficient and on task to the point of perfection. Just then the thoughts of Juliet, Myles, and Beckett resurfaced in his mind. Artemis couldn't remember the last time his thoughts had been this domestic, this mundane, nor this...dare he say it? Content.

"You aren't going to do anything about it, are you?" Potter asked worriedly, leaning forward to peer into his dark blue-and-hazel eyes. The closeness of his presence unnerved him even more, if such a fact was humanely possible. It seemed like Potter had broken into his bathroom again, and had been using his toiletries. That was his soap he smelt, shampoo and conditioner, and the very same eau de cologne. The scent stirred something primal and forgotten within his chest that felt like a monster, just raging and clawing at his hollow ribcage to get out.

"I was almost sure, but if it's magic you want to know about, I can tell you everything about it, everything I know. But you don't- you don't have to try and take over the world or anything like that, do you? Isn't- isn't it okay, just to stay here, and let sleeping dogs lie?"

His wording was deplorable, but Artemis couldn't deny Potter's assessment as anything other than truth. He glanced down at the frail fingers clenched his lap, and then back up into Potter's vivid green eyes.

Young Master Artemis had changed, Butler decided. And he knew he had only their equally young (younger, in fact) houseguest to thank for it.

Six months ago he would have never believed it. Six months ago he had just walked their prisoner to his newest home: a six-by-six cell four storeys underground with chains on his ankles connected to chains on his wrists. And then one brisk autumn afternoon he had found Artemis and Potter out on the grounds, sitting on the grass of all things, although it looked like his principal had been cajoled into the indignity by the other young man. There was an uncharacteristically lost look on his charge's face, and Potter was close, too close; for a moment Butler feared that he had made a very grave mistake, in allowing Potter the intimacy he appeared to deserve.

But then Artemis was looking up at Potter and speaking, and while his face was still too grave, his words brought a beatific smile to the other man's face, and Potter began to laugh, long and hard, throwing an arm carelessly over Artemis's shoulder and pulling him close, before yanking them both down to sprawl on the grass. Artemis looked appalled at how mussed he was becoming, but Butler didn't miss the tinge of colour in his cheeks from Potter's proximity. Their faces were side-by-side, and even Butler had to admit the openness in the other's smile was breathtaking. He hid a smile of his own when he thought of his principal's reaction to such guilelessness. Already Artemis looked slightly stricken. If Butler didn't know better, he would have thought Artemis in a panic. But of course, Fowls would never condescend to panic.

Still, it was Butler's job to save Artemis, even from his own hormones. He stealthily approached them from behind, although Potter still seemed to sense his coming, and tilted his head back, relieving Artemis from the blinding radiance of his smile and redirecting it at Butler instead. If he had been any less astute, he would have entirely missed the sigh of relief his principal took, and had to hide a chuckle behind a highly uncharacteristic cough.

Potter's smile turned almost immediately into a frown. "Butler, you shouldn't be out here, not if you have a cough. It's a bit chilly, and you might get a cold."

Butler briefly wondered if he should first tell their guest that he'd never been sick a day in his life, or that it was barely fifty degrees, even with the wind chill, but his principal got there before him.

"Butler is well aware of the limitations of his body, Mr. Potter," he announced haughtily. Butler noticed that the faint colour on his face hadn't quite faded yet. "And besides, he was about to-"

"I'd rather not take any chances," Potter interrupted almost nonchalantly. By the downturned set of his lips, it was quite clear to everyone that something had upset the man. It continually amazed him that Artemis would choose someone so completely opposite to him in every possible way.

"And you're looking a little flushed, too, Artemis. I think we can continue this conversation indoors, don't you think, Butler?" Potter was already on his feet, and hauling Artemis up beside him, before reaching for Butler's shoulder, and the bodyguard was treated to the rather unpleasant feeling of being squeezed through a pipe. It was even worse than having to cramming himself into one of those bloody LEPrecon shuttles. But when he opened his eyes he found that he, and the other two, were back in Artemis's empty sitting room.

"Apparition," Potter explained with a lopsided smile. "I'm the only one keyed into the wards, so you don't have to worry about anyone else trying to sneak in and kidnap you like that. And the wards prevent me from Apparating outside the grounds, so you don't ever have to worry about that. I'm sorry I didn't give you any other warning, but I didn't want either of you to catch a cold." Even at the word he shivered intensely, pulling the elk fur-lined coat he had borrowed from Artemis's closet tighter about him. He smiled a little at them both, but it was a pale imitation of the smiles he had freely shared with his principal earlier. "I'll leave you two at it, then."

Piece said, Potter shuffled quickly across the room and out, probably to burrow underneath a huge pile of warmed blankets by the side of a roaring fire. Although his concern had obviously been for himself as well as Artemis, Butler knew that there was something wrong with Potter, to cause him to react so violently to even the slightest chill. Having lived in a draughty Scottish castle for, as he understood it, seven years, must have been almost hell.

"When Mr. Potter was asleep, I had a medical performed on him."

Butler turned his body slightly to face his principal, acknowledging the fact that he was listening. The younger man wasn't looking at him, was instead looking the way Potter had gone with a flat, intense stare.

"He'll have osteoporosis before he reaches the age of thirty. More than three-quarters of the bones in his body have been broken at least twice– that translates to roughly 405 unoperated major and minor breaks at the very least, since he has lived with those relatives of his as an infant. The earlier breaks were given little time to heal before being re-broken, and the bone grew back weaker and weaker each time. The calcium levels in some of the older breaks are nearly nonexistent. It is likely that he was abused as a child, starved, most likely, before being forced to participate in excessive physical activity– whether running from bullies, or the magical world's absurd idea of super-soldier training, I do not know. His condition has worsened after his bones started fusing together upon reaching puberty. Osteoporosis is the least of his worries."

Artemis then launched into a clinical recitation of a very long list of diagnoses, half of which were diseases and symptoms usually found in the third-world. It seemed almost impossible that Potter, if he was to believed, had grown up in a town just bordering London.

Butler actually found himself shivering at the prospect of another worthy challenge in the air.

"I am going to destroy them, Butler." There was no question of who 'they' were. "I am going to destroy them for what they did to him."

It hadn't taken Potter long to catch on. There was, after all, only so much they could do without his particular insight. He had not been blind to Artemis's increasing attempts at pulling away, either. It was the first time Potter had encountered him in his 'mission' mode, but Artemis would not let himself be dissuaded, not even for a pretty face. He tried not to think about the fact that his motivation was exactly that pretty face.

It came as somewhat of a surprise, then, when Potter had caught him one day working on a magic-dissipating bomb, that he hadn't exploded at him on sight. Artemis had staring back, rather stonily, practically inviting a confrontation, when Potter suddenly broke into a subdued smile, and knocked on his doorframe, asking if he could come in.

Cautiously, Artemis undid the security lock on his workroom, and allowed his guest in. Potter was not reacting in any way he expected him to. The man had grown up a Muggle, he had divulged that much, so he knew what bombs looked like, which also meant he knew exactly what Artemis was working on, although Artemis was still hoping to change the bomb's casing at a later date to give it a more innocuous appearance.

Potter walked slowly into the room, wearing another one of Artemis's borrowed coats. The weather had only gotten colder, and although Artemis had ordered the central heating to be turned up higher than normal, it still seemed appeared Potter was much more vulnerable to the elements than originally thought.

"Can I tell you something?" Potter asked, timidly.

That tone alarmed Artemis possibly more than anything else had. It had been close to eight months since they'd first met, and Potter had never once shown himself to be timid the entire time. He merely nodded, indicating for Potter to take a seat, before pouring him a cup of tea and passing the saucer to him. Butler, hidden in the far corner, could have done that, but Artemis had a feeling Potter wanted to continue the illusion that there were the only two in the room, although he would have known Butler wouldn't be far from his principal.

Potter took the cup, and the seat, and bowed his head for a long time. He didn't lift it again when he began to speak.

It was a long story, he began, so he hoped Artemis would bear with him. It was a story about a boy, who'd been labelled to death before he'd been even old enough to know what a label meant. That boy had grown up his entire life thinking he was a freak, his whole identity revolving around that single name he'd been called as a child, and even up to this day, had problems forgetting. One day a friendly half-giant had come for him, and it seemed for a moment like he just might be able to get away from it all, but all he really got was nine months out of a year at playing an even bigger freak than he'd been before.

He'd spent seven long years, sloughing away at it, still believing, above all else, in the goodness of people, and that one day, he'd find someone who'd tell him that things would really change, that things were really different. The only difference each year was whether someone was trying to outright kill him, or slander his name to make the vox populi want to kill him. But he had held on, and he had tried.

There had been a very bad man. He'd killed the boy's parents, and a lot of other good people as well. There'd been a war, before the boy was born, and the man was thought to be dead. In actuality he wasn't, and it seemed like the boy had been prophesied to put an end to all that codswallop, and he did, although it was a rather long and arduous journey, filled with far too many bodies for his liking. One of them had been his mentor, the headmaster at his school, who'd made his own fair share of mistakes when it had come to the boy's welfare, but he had tried, as much as the boy had, to make things right.

But, like he said, the boy managed to kill that very evil man, and he thought things would change then. That they'd get back to normal, or as normal as they'd been before. And things did change. People moved on with their lives, became happy. Things changed, but they wouldn't allow him to change.

He argued that he'd had his own life to live; who were they to demand he put his life on the line each time to protect him, when no one had done the same for him? No one seemed to hear. The worst of it was that the two vultures leading the pack had been his two best friends in school. They had watched him carefully for seven years, known everything about him, known exactly which buttons to press, which arm to twist. The boy hadn't been able to hold his head up since.

Artemis was silent throughout the entire telling. There were many points during Potter's tale where he could have interrupted with a perfunctory note of outrage, but none of them would have been appropriate. While outrage may have been what Artemis felt, he had a feeling outrage wasn't what Potter was looking for, let alone on his behalf.

Then Potter had finally looked up, and he had smiled at Artemis.

"Juliet told me I was being an idiot."

Just eight words, and the tension in the room cranked up to the point where it was almost palpable. Artemis wasn't surprised by this, aware by now how the slightly younger man would trigger these unfamiliar protective of feelings within him, but it did come as a bit of a welcome surprise that Butler felt the same way.

The bodyguard had spent his entire life training separating the critical part of his brain from his emotions, and separating the Fowls and Juliet from every other human. Of course, there was still supposed to be a professional distance bordering their associations, but all of Butler's training was useless in the face of the unwavering force that was Artemis Fowl the Second. After the utter demolition that Artemis had wrecked on his training, it seemed only natural that Butler would rebuild his protective walls higher than ever. What came as the real zinger (Potter had been quite the influence on his vocabulary!) was how Potter had managed to weasel his way in, almost absently, and it seemed more than right for him to be there.

Potter laughed in the face of their concern.

"You know Juliet better than that; you know she didn't mean it like that!" He was grinning, but there was still a touch of sorrow behind his eyes. "She was just trying to make me see what was right in front of me this entire while, but I was too much of an idiot to see it."

Artemis raised a turgid brow. "Oh?"

"I thought about what she said, in context with what I said, and I realised something."

Here Potter paused, and Artemis realised the man was waiting for him to speak.

"...what did you realise?"

"I was always looking at their world as my haven, my solace. I blinded myself to any other alternative. This was another routine...disposal for me." The word sounded harsh and wrong coming from Potter's throat. "I didn't think about anything other than the mission, couldn't let myself. Perhaps it was the best thing that ever happened to me that you caught me."

Artemis stilled, unsure of where this conversation was going.

"I told you a while back, Artemis, that all you had to do was realise it. People will move whole mountains for you, and you don't even have to blackmail them into doing it." Potter grinned, and teasingly chucked him on the shoulder. Artemis smiled weakly back, a far cry from his usual vampire's smirk. "And I'd be honoured if you'd count me as one of those in your arsenal."

Artemis couldn't help it. His mismatched eyes widened, not only at Potter's offer, but at his word choice. He knew Potter knew he wouldn't have missed something like this. 'Team' could have been interpreted as either passive or aggressive, but to address himself as part of an 'arsenal'– there was no debating Potter's implication and leanings.

"Are you quite sure of this?" he asked. Normally he would take unrelenting advantage of an asset with this level of ability, but he had a rather terrible feeling this fight with the magicals was going to be personal, with Potter involved. Then again, it was always personal, wherever Potter was concerned. The man had no idea of the concept of professional distance.

Potter nodded, a cool smile on his lips. His gaze was unwavering. He obviously didn't blame Artemis for requiring a confirmation. He had, after all, threatened to kill him all those months back when Artemis had only suggested involving the children.

"What's changed, Mr. Potter?" he asked softly. "Why now?"

The man laughed again. "Well, for one I'm going to have to get you to start calling me Harry, some way or other. Mr. Potter's just too...stifling."

"Harry," he tried slowly. The answering smile he received was worth everything in the past eight months, and more.

"What Juliet said had me thinking," Pott-Harry- began. "I couldn't keep being torn in two like this. And I decided- I decided, to be selfish for once, for my own sake rather than anyone else's. I decided to stay- if you'll have me, of course!- at the only place where I've ever been able to find peace." He glanced coquettishly over, as if he half-expected Artemis to refuse him.

"No!" he blurted out, and then flushed at the uncomfortable situation. No matter the misbegotten attempts from all his family members save the twins, Artemis was still lacking proficiency in dealing with emotional circumstances. "No," he repeated in a gentler tone, "you are most welcome to stay. Harry," he added awkwardly.

The man looked at him as if he didn't quite understand his words, but then a smile slowly grew on his lips, a wide, overbearing kind of smile, that stretched his mouth open wide. "Thank you, Artemis," he whispered.

Artemis couldn't help it. They were sitting that close, after all. He only had to lean forward maybe two inches to brush their lips together. He'd never kissed anyone before, so he didn't know what to expect, even though Minerva had tried to jump him quite frequently when they were still in their teens. He had been most glad when he received an invitation to her marriage in the post–

Green eyes stared at blue- and hazel. They were a very, very green, staring at a very, very blue- and hazel.

"Do all these things always end this lucky?" Harry whispered.

"I don't believe in luck," Artemis informed him.

He didn't think they were words that provided amusement, but Harry was still smiling. "I didn't think you would. You aren't the sort that would."

"You'll stay?" Artemis pressed, needing to hear the answer to this question, above all else.

"I said I would," Harry promised, pressing their hands tight. "It's all that really needs to be said, isn't it?"

Artemis sighed softly, and leaned his head in the crook Harry's neck made. It seemed natural for the man to bring up his arm and wrap it around his narrow shoulders, tugging him even closer, almost into his lap.

"Mother will be pleased," Artemis concluded at length. "She's been concocting all sorts of schemes to get you to stay for good and keep the twins in line, if nothing else. But though she might be my mother, she doesn't have half the intellect I do, and of course her plans would have failed."

Harry huffed a laugh into his hair. "Of course," he drawled sarcastically. "Lucky she's got you then?" He tilted his head sideways, so he could pull away enough to look Artemis in the eye. The slim genius was struck by how raw the emotions were pooling in his eyes. "Lucky I've got you."

Artemis thought his words deserved another kiss. Unlike the first one, which had been tentative and cool, Harry was ready now, and caught his mouth up with his. Artemis could feel the smile on his lips, and an answering one on Harry's own, as their lips and then tongues tangled together. He discreetly signalled for Butler to leave these rooms. He really didn't think his bodyguard needed to see what was going to happen next.

Harry's mouth trailed from his lips, up his smooth jaw, to his ear, and then down his throat, nibbling lightly the entire way. Artemis was startled into laughing when Harry bit down near his collarbone.

"I was unaware that I was vulnerable in that area," he derided, lip beginning to curl.

Harry just laughed at him. "It's only a part of the fun when you are," he said, and bit the same place again without warning, making him yelp and instinctively swat the other man away. There was an almost maniac gleam in Harry's eye when he pounced.

Artemis had never enjoyed physical activity, but discovered that he didn't mind it so much when the other participant was Harry, and the physical exertions were working towards ends such as these. They mock-tussled for a while, Harry nearly winning, before riling Artemis up enough to use his knowledge of acupuncture to send the man sprawling to the bed beneath him. Now Artemis was sitting atop him, legs astride on either side of his hips, wearing a crooked smile.

"That's much better than that vampire grin of yours," Harry said approvingly, touching the corner of his mouth. Then he smirked, and it was downright dirty. "In fact, I'd rather see you in that smile and nothing else at all."

Perhaps even an hour ago Artemis would have stiffened, but just the knowledge of having Harry willingly in his house and in his bed emboldened him. "All's fair in love and war," he hissed, raking his nails down the man's chest, catching at nipples and making the other's breath hitch.

Harry managed a stuttering laugh as he arched into Artemis's touch. "In love and war, maybe, but you're a Fowl. Things are never fair with you." The grin on his face said he didn't quite mind it half as much as his words appeared to indicate.

"Oh?" Artemis cocked his eyebrow at him. Then he pointed. "In that case, clothes off."

It felt new, and daring, and Artemis felt the same thrill normally triggered by plunging headfirst into inter-species escapades racing through his veins. When their skin touched skin, he couldn't help but close his eyes in bliss. Lips assaulted his own, his neck, his chest, and his belly, making him laugh and sigh at all the appropriate spots. And when Harry reached under him, hiking his legs up in a shamefully vulnerable position, Artemis couldn't find it in himself to care much more than a second or two, not about the fact that his body was never meant to have objects inserted up there, no matter how gently or lovingly, and he found himself uncaring even in the knowledge that he'd be physically raw afterward. Harry kissed the back of his knee, all the while urging his fingers in deeper, carving out a space that would fit his much larger erection.

Meanwhile, Artemis took the pulsing organ in hand and stroked it, inwardly delighting in the soft-hard feel, and the emanating heat. He twisted his wrist, causing Harry to gasp and his hips to buck forward, and a smile to grace his lips, lips that the other man kissed just moments after.

"You say you don't believe in luck," he murmured against Artemis's lips, "but I don't quite know who else to thank for a miracle like this."

"How about me?" Artemis asked, a teasing light in his eye.

Harry laughed. "I don't know if I'm willing to give you that much credit yet." He steadied Artemis's hip, and then pushed in. Despite his effort to contain his emotions, Artemis still couldn't help but bite his lip, not quite able to hide the wince that followed.

"How about now?" he rasped, squirming his hips in an effort to adjust.

Harry's eyes were soft as he took in the taut line of the Fowl Heir's body, and the tight look on his face. "Maybe," he whispered, ghosting his lips over Artemis's eyes and mouth. "Maybe."

He brushed his hand down Harry's cheek, past his neck, to his chest, and the man shivered heavily. The red-coloured skin that had always intrigued him felt too smooth and too sticky to be real. Grafts, his mind told him.

"Can I ask what happened?"

Harry rocked his hips once, an aghast look on his face as he ripped a moan out of both their throats. "Now?" he asked incredulously.

Artemis swallowed heavily, his head falling back as he was continually assaulted by waves of pleasure, barely managing to nod.

Harry's young face tightened, and his emerald eyes looked like they cracked a little more at his answer. "Maybe later," he whispered, and thrust in again before he could get another word in.

Artemis let his head hang as Harry began to strike up a rhythm, and then gripped his own erection in an effort to keep up with him. Not that he needed very much else in the way of stimulation. The realisation that he didn't know his body's responses quite half as well as he thought and not a quarter as well as he liked was disturbing, but he found it easy to forget when assuaged by unrelenting surges of bliss, again and again, as Harry kept up his easy rocking motions, careful not to push Artemis beyond the boundaries of what he could take.

The post-coital languor was extremely soothing– at least until he realised just how filthy the two of them were. Theoretically, he had known that two male bodies would have produced this amount of bodily fluid, but when confronted by the reality of the matter-

Harry laughed at the look of disgust on his face, before waving his hand over their bodies, and commanding, "Scourgify." The semen and perspiration vanished from their skin, but Artemis decided that a shower was still in order- and Harry might hopefully join him in it.

He glanced at the younger man questioningly. "Latin-based?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "I only know how the English cast their spells, and that seems to be the way with things." Then he looked curiously at Artemis. "You mentioned once before that you aren't a Muggle, but I haven't seen you do any magic. Could I?"

"I don't know how to control it," Artemis admitted, raising an elegant hand and allowing those old familiar sparks to leap about his fingers. There were more of them than he was used to, so it appeared his magical core would grow over time. "It's fairy magic."

Harry's eyes widened briefly, before he shrugged again with an easy smile. "Magic is magic, isn't it?" he said, unknowingly parroting Artemis's own words when he had first put the wizard under the fairy ritual. Artemis was amazed that Harry didn't even question how he'd acquired it. "Try a spell? The first one I ever learnt was Wingardium Leviosa."

"A levitation spell?"

He nodded. "Go ahead. Oh, and it's, eh, win-gaaar-dium, levi-o-sa. I had a lesson when I was eleven. Don't think I'll ever forget it." His smile was a little sad.

Artemis noticed that, but chose not to question it. This time.

"Wingardium leviosa," he intoned, gesturing over a pillow. It shuddered violently, its ends trembling, but it never fully lifted off the bed. Artemis found himself less than satisfied by the effort, but Harry apparently found it worthy enough to award several luxurious kisses.

"That's a grand effort!" he exclaimed. "We tried that spell with a feather, and we were all dreadful for it. It took nearly getting killed by a troll for one of my classmates to get the trick."

"A troll?" Artemis repeated bleakly, garnering a curious glance from Harry.

"You know of them, then?" he asked.

Artemis smiled thinly. "When I was twelve, I kidnapped an elf and held her hostage for a ransom of one metric ton of 24-carat gold. The LEPrecon forces sent a troll to invade the manor– among other things, of course, and Butler managed to dispose of it."

Harry stared at him. "Butler? That one, the one standing outside your door, eavesdropping on us having sex– kill a troll?" Artemis nodded patiently.

"And you," Harry began again, "y-you kidnapped an elf? When you were twelve?"

Instead of being infuriated, or exasperated, or any one of the usual responses, he just flung his head back and laughed.

"I think luck does exist," Harry said when he managed to calm down, "and that the Fates are much kinder than most give them credit for." He grinned impishly, and kissed Artemis again, long and lapping and loving.

"How else would you have found me?"

They lounged in bed for nearly an hour more, before the next words were spoken.

"What are your plans, then?"

Artemis said nothing for a long moment, so much so that Harry mistook his silence for an unwillingness to divulge.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered, lightly brushing Artemis's cheek with the back of his knuckles. "It's okay if you don't trust me right off the bat-"

"Harry." His one word stopped the other's babbling cold. He inhaled deeply, and then exhaled. "This issue arose much later than I assumed it originally would."

Harry looked at him, bewildered. "Our sleeping together?"

"No," Artemis blurted out, stunned. His eyes softened as he took in the perfect form of the man lying beside him. "I would never assume, not in these matters-"

Harry pouted. "You are far more attractive than you give yourself credit for," he said, actually leering at him. "All that soft, dark hair that looks even better tousled; nearly perfectly even features; slim body and grace; not to mention the absolutely stunning colour of your eyes…"

Artemis's instinctive reaction to the embarrassment triggered was to verbally flay the skin off the offender's back, but he couldn't do that, not to Harry, and doubly not if his response was even half of what Artemis expected it to be once the latter issue was addressed. So he merely retreated to that topic, not quite meeting Harry's eyes.

"It isn't that I don't trust you," he murmured. "It's just that you won't be pleased to hear the answer."

He had Harry's full attention in a second, the sharp honed gaze of a hunter trained on his face. "What is it?" he asked.

Artemis slipped from the bed, and pulled two dressing robes from his closet. He handed one to Harry.

"Follow me."