A/N: This is the chapter that happened when my muses started shagging each other like the horny beasts they usually are. For that reason, it's one of my favourite chapters so far. You'll be pleased to know I'm still writing very, very quickly.
Thank you to everyone for all your support on this story. For what is a writer, without anyone reading his work?

Chapter 22- Et Dona Ferentes

Draco caught up with Harry when he was brushing his teeth.

"He's asleep. Bedroom. Now."

"Give me a minute," Harry laughed. Draco shook his head and grabbed the waistband of Harry's pyjama bottoms, dragging him out of the room by the elastic.

The bedroom door was locked with a solid Aromohola and Harry was pushed back against the wood.

"Want you," Draco murmured, attaching his teeth to Harry's bare shoulder. "Want you right up deep inside me."

"Oh god," Harry whimpered. He hardened in his pyjamas, filling out against the soft flannel fabric as Draco kissed and licked his neck and shoulder. "Bed..."

Hands flew over skin, pulling off clothing and throwing it around the room until two long, lean, naked men tangled their legs together, one dark against one light, their hips canting together to find that delicious friction.

Their kisses were intense; Harry cupped the back of Draco's head in his hand, angling their mouths as their tongues slid together. His fingers twirled around soft blond locks and tugged quickly to elicit gasps of brief, burning pain.

Draco made an attempt to roll over, to present himself on all fours as was his habit.

"No," Harry said, slapping his flank. "On your back."

Even as Draco opened his mouth to protest, Harry pressed his lips down against it in a hard kiss.

"Don't argue with me, Malfoy, on your fucking back."

Draco swallowed visibly and spread his legs. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as Harry took his cock in his fist and pumped it a few times, then bent his head to swallow the first, most delicious inch into his mouth.

With repeated practice Harry had mastered a wandless, nonverbal Accio, the only wandless, nonverbal spell he knew (and the only one he needed, as he frequently argued with Draco). The recently replaced silver tin of lubricant made a satisfying smack as it landed in his outstretched hand.

As his mouth travelled down Draco's hard shaft he flipped the lid off the tin and slicked up his fingers, pressing them at Draco's entrance and gently stroking the wrinkled skin before it granted him access. He slicked the lube around the tight muscle, taking care even as his fingertips sought to tease and torture, not quite giving enough to cause real pleasure.

When Harry sat back on his haunches Draco's mouth was red and slick from their kisses, contrasting with his pale skin and the pink flush that stained his cheeks and chest. Harry stroked his own erection leisurely, spreading the warm liquid down his length and wiping the excess on his thigh before lunging forward and catching Draco's knees in the crook of his elbows.

"I'm going to make you scream," he whispered.

Draco fisted the sheets in his hands as Harry flicked smooth, elegant ankles over his shoulders and bent his boyfriend in half. He braced his forearm on the bed and reached back to angle himself against Draco's entrance then pushed forward, achingly slowly.

The blond man was whimpering, begging wordlessly and humping his hips back by the time Harry was fully seated inside him. He knew, from experience that it would take Draco a moment to adjust and Harry gave him that, then another moment more just to make sure.

Then he pulled his hips back and slammed back in deep.

Draco arched his back off the bed and a strangled cry escaped from his throat.

"Not good enough," Harry said. "I want you to scream, baby."

The pace was furious, by either of their standards and Harry took great pleasure in watching the strain in Draco's jaw and neck as he fought against the pleasure threatening to spill over. As his balls slapped wetly against Draco's ass, Harry leaned down and peppered kisses across Draco's lips, concentrating on the tiny, fuzzy hairs at the corner of his mouth and the sweet, full swell of his bottom lip.

This position, new to him as it was, felt different to Harry; he could feel how much deeper he was, how much more Draco was opened up to him. It meant, too, that in the moments when they both opened their eyes, grey looked up into green, moments exchanging between them without the need for words.

Draco's hands released their death grip on the bedsheets and came to grip Harry's upper arms, helping him to re-angle his thrusts just a millimetre upwards until Harry felt it and could find it on his own, pressing the head of his cock repeatedly against that spot that was sure to make Draco come, it just had to...

When Draco came, shooting hard against both their stomachs, Harry was pretty sure he heard his own name mixed in amongst the strangled scream that he had demanded. It was definitely there in the sob Draco let out after the scream, and in the breathless gasps after that. Harry dropped his forehead to Draco's and just let go, riding through the clench and release contractions in Draco's ass, letting his own orgasm draw out the pleasure for his partner until his arms gave out on him and he collapsed onto Draco's chest with a grunt.

For a few moments he laid there, letting Draco smooth his hair back from his face with gently combing fingers until the strength to move returned to him and he rolled over, onto 'his' side of the bed where he could reach for his wand and cast a cleaning spell over both of them.

Then he flopped back to recover.

They laid, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, ankle to ankle on the bed. Harry was breathing deeply, his hands resting on his stomach but resolutely not sleeping. Not at all.

When something danced across his vision, behind his eyelids, he dismissed it as his snitch. When it flew back again, he cracked open an eyelid.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Draco was producing glimmers of green light and making them dance across the room, bouncing off the walls and ceiling like a beam of light refracted through a prism. Controlled by the palm of his hand, rather than his wand, he was seemingly teasing Harry's snitch.

Draco cleared his throat. "Nothing."

The light disappeared as Draco dropped his hand.

"No, bring it back, I want to see."

When it reappeared Harry watched intently as each little movement of Draco's fingers caused the light to pulse and flicker, change direction or split. The snitch zoomed around happily chasing it.

"How do you do it?" Harry asked.

Draco rolled his head to the side, mussing his hair up, and smirked. "Magic."

"Oh, shut up," Harry said, elbowing him in the ribs. "What's the incantation?"

"There isn't one," Draco said. "This is the fundamental core of wandless magic. Did no one ever-" he broke off suddenly.

"Sorry," he said after a moment.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "Just show me, please?"

Draco frowned as he wiggled his fingers again. "I don't know if I can," he said. "It's just – you just – just do it, Harry."

"Really?" Harry asked sceptically.

"I mean it. There's no spell or anything. It's just a physical manifestation of your magic. You just need to do it."

"Fine," Harry huffed. He stretched out his hand towards the ceiling, mirroring Draco and waited. "Nothing's happening."

"Well, you do need to try," Draco said. "Put some effort into it."

With some encouragement and no little effort, Harry concentrated on pouring the dancing light out of his fingertips. It took a few minutes and when his arm was starting to ache, finally it happened.

"Look!" he exclaimed. In his excitement the light went out.

"It's good, do it again," Draco encouraged.

The light that joined Draco's on the ceiling wasn't green, or even Gryffindor red. It was a rich, deep gold.

"Can you change the colour?" Harry asked. He was focused intently on the light, making it dance and flutter like he'd seen Draco do.

"I can't," Draco said. "My mother can. She used to make rainbows for me at bedtime when I was a child."

"How come you didn't show me before?"

Draco shrugged. "I haven't done it in a long time. It was a bit of a competition in the Slytherin dorms. I got it long before Blaise or Pansy. Saying that, it still took me about a month to learn how."

"Really? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you would have convinced yourself you couldn't," Draco said reasonably. "Like wandless magic in general. And Occlumency."

"Oh, don't start on that," Harry groaned. "I am more than okay with the fact that I'll never be a master Occlumens."

"It's a useful skill to have."

Harry hummed noncommittally and made his gold lights bump up against Draco's green ones. Draco wriggled his fingers and the two strands of light wrapped around each other, sparks shooting out from one to the other. It looked like the double helix of Muggle DNA, only with the lines going out instead of in.

"Cool," Harry murmured.

Draco looked over again and dropped his hand, but before Harry could protest he'd leaned over and planted another soft kiss on Harry's lips.

"What was that for?" Harry asked.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Draco twirled his fingers around strands of Harry's hair that had fallen forward into his eyes.

"I was just wondering what would have happened if, instead of hexing each other, we'd given this a go at school."

"The entire world would have imploded," Harry whispered.

Draco's eyes crinkled into a smile and he kissed Harry again, on the forehead this time, right on his scar.

"Remind me why we hated each other so much?"

"Because you were a bully and obnoxious and mean to my friends," Harry started ticking points off on his fingers, "And a know it all and a rich snob..."

"And remind me why you're with me now?"

The edge in his voice told Harry the other man was only half joking.

"Because you're brave," he said seriously. "And strong. And so incredibly loving. Because you took a chance. Because even when you had lost everything, all you wanted was to give a tiny baby another chance at having a family.

"And most of all, because you've never once treated me like the Boy Who Lived or any of that crap. You see me as Harry, the same pain in the ass I've always been. And you love me all the same."

Draco sighed heavily, frowning, and pressed his lips into a hard line.

"Please don't doubt us," Harry finished in a whisper.

"I don't," Draco said.

"Then kiss me."

With a tentative smile, Draco lowered his head a third time and left light, lingering kisses on Harry's lips, cheeks, eyelids... finally laying his head down on Harry's shoulder and tugging the duvet up to cover them both.

"I love you too."

"Night, Draco."

"Night."

xXx

They locked the doors, blocked the Floos, barricaded the windows and prepared to fight.

Bear was napping soundly in his crib after being thoroughly worn out by George and Angelina earlier in the afternoon and as dusk settled over Grimmauld Place, strange characters began to appear in the square.

Some stopped and lit cigarettes, then kicked a foot back against the railings as they smoked lazily. A tramp considered an almost empty pizza box and poked at the contents. A harassed young business woman in icepick heels walked briskly down the pavement, her shoes clicking on the cracks.

And in half a heartbeat, a burst of magic rocketed through the square.

This protective bubble was so strong that it caused television screens in surrounding houses to flicker, causing Mr Fisher at number eight to swear violently at Noel Edmonds. To be fair to Mr Fisher, he was already in the process of calling Noel Edmonds a 'poncey prat', so his outburst wasn't completely the fault of the magic.

Inside number twelve, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy stood shoulder to shoulder, side by side, wands drawn. The clock in the upstairs hallway ticked resolutely towards six thirty, the minutes counting down with ticks that echoed through the house. The silence was oppressive after the weeks of activity and Harry turned to look at the man standing next to him.

The last fight that they'd been involved with was when they were on opposing sides, the significance of the change that had happened in the past year not lost on either of them. The Draco Malfoy who was fighting now was stronger; physically, mentally, magically. The scared teenager unleashing havoc and friends and Fiendfyre was gone along with the harsh black robes, slicked back hair and wide, haunted eyes.

This Draco Malfoy was taller, broader; still dressed in the fine fabrics he'd grown accustomed to in his youth but now preferring softer colours and Muggle designs. His hair curled around the nape of his neck and tucked in gentle waves around his ears. At once he looked older and younger, more serious and more carefree.

This Draco Malfoy wore his sleeves pushed up to the elbows, no longer ashamed of what his forearms revealed.

The clock ticked forward.

Harry slipped his hand into Draco's, tugging him around to lay a soft, sweet kiss on the other man's lips. They didn't need to exchange words about the momentousness of the occasion.

As the clock chimed six thirty both men held their breath, waiting for the attack to begin.

And let it out again.

The house lay as still and silent as it had moments before and Harry's grip on Draco's hand tightened. This was somehow worse, this absence of activity luring them into what was surely a false sense of security.

As the seconds, and then minutes ticked on, Harry wondered if there was maybe a problem. Or maybe not… the point of the exercise was to test the protective wards around the house. If they were strong enough, powerful enough, then maybe they were keeping the team of hit- wizards at bay.

Or maybe not.

After ten more minutes of waiting, Harry tugged on Draco's hand and they sat on the top stair, watching down to the front door below. Not even any noise permeated through, the eerie, sullen silence wrapped around them, making Harry shiver.

"Are you cold?" Draco asked as Harry pulled the cuffs of his jumper down to his wrists.

"Mm. Do you think something went wrong?"

Draco shrugged. "I hope not."

Another five minutes passed and Harry shifted so his back was against the banister, one foot propped up with his arms wrapped around his knee. Draco was wandlessly producing bubbles with one hand and popping them with stunning spells with his wand arm. Then he switched.

Finally, twenty minutes into the so called 'siege', Harry stood, frowned, and called forward Prongs.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?" Draco asked dubiously.

"We're about to find out."

A few minutes later Ron's Jack Russell appeared through the front door.

"Let us in?" it implored.

Draco raised an eyebrow as Harry stood. "It could be a trick."

"You can't cast someone else's patronus," Harry said over his shoulder as he jogged down the stairs. He opened the heavy oak door to the full team of Aurors, plus four others that he didn't recognise. "I suppose you better come in."

xXx

"What's going on?" Draco asked as the team settled in the kitchen. Stonestreet had taken the team of hit- wizards back to the Ministry for a full debrief and analysis and had left Neville and Jamieson in charge of taking down Harry and Draco's account.

"A lot," Jamieson said. "What happened in here?"

"Nothing," Harry said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "What happened out there?"

"Action- wise? Not much. Information- wise? A lot," Jamieson admitted. "We couldn't even get as far as your protective wards. There's a spell preventing us even picking the lock on the front door."

"Go on," Draco said.

"It's an ancient magic called et dona ferentes," Jamieson said. "I studied it a long time ago now."

"What the hell does that mean?" Draco demanded.

"It's not quite as simple as that," she said, the apology clear in her voice. "The complete phrase is one that the Muggles know of, too; Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. It means 'beware of the Greeks, even when bearing gifts'. It's old, old, magic, Draco."

"Old… and Dark?" Neville asked.

"Those sorts of distinctions between good and bad just don't exist in these types of spells," she said, shaking her head. "This is from the time of Ancient civilisations when magic was just magic. Dark magic, as we know it, is a relatively modern invention."

Frances Jamieson was one of the more quiet members of her team, but her calmness belied the incredible strength and immense knowledge she harnessed. When watching her work, Harry often felt like he was being given a sneak peek into what would happen if Hermione ever decided to join the Auror department.

She stood, and started to pace as she explained.

"It's a magic of deep distrust," she started. "It was created around the fifth century BC and its purpose was to keep out unwanted foreign visitors. If the magic detects someone, or something it deems a risk to the inhabitants, it requires some sort of sacrifice before it will allow those to pass."

"A blood sacrifice?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Jamieson agreed. "Most likely."

"I've seen it before," Harry said softly. "When Dumbledore took me to the cave where he'd found one of the Horcruxes, he had to put his blood on the wall before we could go through." He looked over to Ron. "That was where we found the locket."

"I wouldn't be surprised that the Dark Lord used it," Jamieson said. "Like I said, it's not necessarily Dark in nature; you can walk away from it unharmed."

"Can we take it down?" Ron asked.

"There's no need to," Jamieson said. "I doubt many, if anyone alive today would be able to perform the spell. Leave it there. It's not hurting anyone."

"Et dona ferentes," Draco repeated. "Could it be on the Manor?"

"Maybe," Jamieson said. "I'd have to check."

"How about Yaxley Manor?"

Her eyes widened. "I see what you mean. The traitor's curse is a very crude imitation of et dona ferentes, Draco. It's definitely Dark Magic, intended to harm rather than protect."

"It sounds complex," Neville said from the corner of the room, where he'd been watching and jotting down notes. "But the most important thing is that you're well protected. What has to be our main concern now is the possibility of someone finding out about the spell, and making that sacrifice. Would the house let them in then?"

The room fell silent.

"We know whoever is trying to get in is not above unscrupulous means," Neville continued. "I wouldn't be surprised if they lowered themselves to a blood sacrifice in order to get through the spell."

Harry looked to Draco, then back to where Neville was sat with Ron on one side and Craig on the other.

"There's someone who would be able to tell you," Harry said.

"Who?"

"Mrs Black."

"Sorry, mate, but are you bloody mad?" Ron demanded. "That old bitch can barely string two words together unless it's some kind of vile insult."

"That's not entirely true, Weasley," Draco said.

"She has a little crush on Draco," Harry added.

Draco rolled his eyes, and blushed. "She recognised me as a Black heir and will talk to me for that reason."

"And there's something funny about the house," Harry said.

"Could have told you that years ago," Ron muttered as he stood and put the kettle on.

"It… reacts to us."

"In what way?" Jamieson asked. "Et dona ferentes shouldn't affect the inhabitants of the house unless they're under threat."

"It's not that," Harry said slowly. "It was quite dramatic at first, like with the basement and the garden. It revealed parts of the house to Draco that the rest of us had never seen before."

"That's…" Jamieson said, then shook her head. "I was going to say that's impossible, but I suppose..."

"It's possible," Draco said. "Trust me."

"Has anyone researched it at all?"

Ron hid his smirk by scratching his nose. "Hermione had a look into it over Christmas. Well, she spent three days in the library and left in a sulk. She did say that it doesn't appear to just be one spell though, it's like a layered effect of one spell on top of another. Like… each generation had tried to out do the other with their adaptations to the spell."

Jamieson nodded. "That would make sense. You said there's a library here?"

"Second floor," Draco said. "Third door on the right. Help yourself."

"Thanks." She took a mug of tea from Ron and turned to Craig. "You coming?"

"No, my shift ended an hour ago. If I go now I should be able to put the kids to bed."

They bid him goodbye and rearranged themselves around the table.

"For Merlin's sake, Weasley, don't let Jamieson meet Granger. The two of them working in cahoots could take over the world as we know it."

Ron snorted his agreement. "Aware of that. And I won't."

"Will you talk to the portrait of Mrs Black?" Neville asked Draco, who nodded.

"In the morning. She won't like being woken up at this time."

"Have you ever heard of this spell before?" Harry said, tugging Draco down to sit next to him.

"It rings a bell," Draco said. He laced his finger's with Harry's under the table, out of sight of Ron and Neville. "I'm not sure though. I'll ask my mother."

"She's out soon, isn't she?" Neville asked, his tone even.

Draco nodded. "A few more weeks."

"Bear's birthday first," Harry said. "Molly's throwing him a party."

"Hopefully it'll all be over by then," Neville said.

Ron raised his mug in a toast. "I'll drink to that."

"You'll come?" Draco asked Neville. "To Bear's birthday party, I mean."

Neville nodded. "Of course."

Ron finished his tea first and stood. "We should get going."

"Thanks for the tea," Neville said, smiling tentatively at Draco.

"No problem. Oh, and Longbottom?"

Neville's face fell.

"Weasley... George, I mean, comes over to drink my good whiskey on Friday nights when these two are out at that dive The Crup. You should come over one night."

"I'll keep it in mind," Neville said. Then he laughed, shaking his head. "Later, Malfoy. Harry."

He disapparated before he was subjected to the sight of Harry pinning his boyfriend to the counter and snogging his brains out.