He drowns in his dreams

An exquisite extreme I know

He's as damned as he seems

And more heaven than a heart could hold

And if I try to save him, my whole world could cave in

It's just not right

Oh, and I don't know, I don't know what he's after

But he's so beautiful, such a beautiful disaster

And if I could hold on through the tears and the laughter

Would it beautiful or just a beautiful disaster?

-Kelly Clarkson

"You know," Draco said with an amused sort of chuckle, "you don't have to use magic to turn every single blasted page."

"Yes I do." Harry stuck out his tongue at the other boy in childish mockery, before using his wand to guide the next thin sheet of paper in his book from right to left.

It was early Thursday morning, and the eleventh straight day the two boys had spent in the library. An uncomfortable silence held them as they read their books which neither of them dared to break. The previous evening had both of their tongues tied. While Harry had been undoubtedly delighted by the return of his magic, once his conversation with Draco had been broken, he hadn't been able to muster up the courage to breech the subject again.

"It says here," Draco said, leaning over his book, "that the spell can only be passed physically: the spell must be bound to an object or a potion, but has been rumored to be able to be cast through…" The blonde's lips curled.

"Through what?"

Draco looked at him through a veil of pale lashes. "Through acts of intimacy."

Harry felt himself flush uncontrollably. "What? Like…sex?"

"I suppose." Draco shrugged.

"Weird."

Draco regarded him for an overly long moment. "You didn't have sex with my gate did you?"

"What? No! Ew!"

Draco raised his hands defensively. "Hey, according to the text it's a completely viable question."

Harry's face contorted. "Why would I have sex with a gate?"

"People have their fetishes."

"How would I have sex with a gate?"

"You're the one who would know."

Harry's brows knitted as a flush crept up into his cheeks. "You are so disgusting."

"Well," Draco sighed and closed his book, "at least we know that it was definitely the gate that did this to you. I mean, I think you would've noticed if you'd taken a potion…or had sex. Then again, maybe I'm overestimating your levels of perception." Draco grabbed for another book from the stack, a perplexed look flickering over his features. "Though I still don't get why my father would put a love spell on our front gate."

This was something Harry had been confused about as well, and had spent a good amount of time mulling over. So far he'd only been able to come up with one valid conclusion. "Maybe he wanted his enemies to be under the spell so they wouldn't pose a threat."

"Perhaps," the other boy nodded, "but what if a family friend had come by and touched the gate by accident?"

"You mean like I did?"

"No. You're not a family friend."

"Oh," Harry replied sheepishly, somewhat stung. "Right."

"But, all things considered, that's a pretty intense spell, even for him. I mean, we have several wards around the house, most of which are meant to kill, but this seems to be on a whole other level of restricted magic. It feels almost like a trick somehow." Draco's mouth set into a hard, thin line. "I wonder why he didn't tell me about it."

Harry didn't know what to say. No one hated Lucius Malfoy more than he did, and yet, a part of him always hoped that there were some redeeming qualities in the man. A part of him hoped that maybe Draco would one day have the type of father he deserved. Families were not meant to have secrets, but the Malfoys…were nothing but secrets.

"Have you found anything new?" Draco asked, snapping Harry from his reverie.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing."

"Figures."

Draco returned to his reading, looking about as tired as Harry felt. Yesterday had been a nice break from the research, but the events of last night had left them both exhausted. Harry hadn't been able to sleep a wink, and somehow, he knew Draco hadn't slept at all either.

He was tired of not knowing how he felt. He was tired of being confused. It was all so exhausting. This constant heat—this constant yearning, had him worn to the quick. What he wanted, more than anything, was just to be done with it. The only problem was, so far there only seemed to be one solution that actually sounded like it could work. "Hey, Malfoy?"

Draco hummed.

Harry tried not to pay attention to his words, because he knew he would regret them if he did. "What was your idea about the Elder Wand? Specifically, I mean."

Draco's face became white and blank as he turned towards the other boy. "I thought that you didn't want to—"

"Just tell me."

"Well," his head tilted slightly, as if he were attempting to see through Harry's lucid expression, "it's quite simple actually. I mean, if it really is the most powerful wand ever created, I was thinking that a simple Finite Incantatum might do the trick."

Harry propped his elbows up on the table and placed his chin in his palms. "Do you really think it could work?"

"I think it's worth a try. It's better to know, isn't it?" Draco opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it shortly, apparently struggling with something.

Harry brows drew together. "Everything okay?"

"I just want you to know that I understand why you didn't want to try it before," Draco said cautiously. "And even if we both think that the wand could work now, it's alright if we don't use it. I understand that…" Draco's bottom lip rolled under his teeth as he turned his gaze down to the table. His eyes went suddenly dim. "I understand that there's a lot of dark magic in the world—I've seen enough of it to know. And some of it—some of it shouldn't be messed with. Some of it is just…too dark."

Harry frowned, wondering at the dark shadow that had cast itself over Draco's face. "Like Horcurxes you mean?" he asked.

Draco looked up at him, and Harry felt his heart flutter. "Yes. Like Horcruxes."

"But…the Elder Wand isn't dark, right? None of the Deathly Hallows are…dark."

"Maybe not," Draco said gently. "But Death did find all three brothers in the end."

"It's just a story though. The point is, the wand could work."

The line of Draco's lips went tight, but he nodded all the same. "Yes," he said, "the wand could work."

"Okay." Harry gave the other boy a soft smile. "Tonight, I'll take you to where it is, and we'll give it a try."

Draco's expression didn't quite reach his eyes. "You don't have to take me if you don't want to."

"I want you to be there." Harry made a low indistinct sound indicating his own apprehension. "I don't know if I can do it alone."

The rest of the morning and afternoon passed by with a dreadful slowness, filled mostly with awkward silences and halfhearted reading. Harry glanced down at his watch for perhaps the millionth time that day and felt Draco's eyes lift and focus on him. The digital lights blinked 7:38 PM. Harry's nose wrinkled. It was late enough.

"Come on." Harry rose from his seat briskly and made towards the exit. Draco too rose, and followed without question.

The streets of London were unusually barren that evening. Streetlights loomed tall over the cobbled streets, their muted yellow glow reflecting in the muddy water that pooled along the curb. Hot July air filled Harry's lungs, and he found himself overwhelmed by one of those brief moments where reality seemed all too real.

Draco was suddenly at his side, his sharp grey eyes searching Harry's expression. "I can Apparate us anywhere you like. I've been practicing."

Harry kept his feet moving, for the strange need to keep the feel the wind on his face. "How close to Hogwarts can you get us?"

"Hogwarts?" Draco froze and momentarily fell behind before running to catch back up. "You're keeping the wand at Hogwarts? Where? Did McGonagall have the Room of Requirement rebuilt? Is it with a professor?"

"I asked how close you could get us," Harry said in hard, uneven tones.

Draco huffed indignantly. "The Forbidden Forest is probably as close as I can get."

"That's good enough." Harry stopped, grabbing Draco by the arm. He suppressed a gasp as electricity surged through his hand up into his body like a wild beast, and sank its fangs into his heart.

Draco retrieved his wand from his back pocket, his heavy, ragged breath matching Harry's. There was a moment where there was nothing but a sea of grey and green. Then came a sharp pull, and a roaring wind. All became black as Harry felt himself being thrown forward, his balance tipping as he fell through the dark. He hit the ground with a sounding thud, his grip slipping from Draco's arm, and his mouth filling with dried leaves and moist dirt.

The sound of laugher rang from above. "I think you're taking the saying 'eat dirt' way too literally, Potter." Draco sounded amused.

Harry pushed himself to his feet, spitting mud from his mouth. "Sod off, Malfoy." He removed his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt as a cold shiver took hold of him. The forest was much cooler than the warm streets of London.

He pushed the glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and blinked at the dark forest. "Any idea which way Hogwarts is?"

Draco smirked knowingly as he held his wand flat in the palm of his hand. He muttered a simple tracking spell under his breath, and the wand gave several circular spins before finally stopping to point in an easterly direction. "That way."

"Right." Harry nodded and started forward.

Twenty minutes passed before the trees finally started to thin—minutes mostly filled with Draco complaining about how the dirt was ruining his expensive Italian leather shoes. Harry, however, remained silent the entire way. His heart was hammering like thunder in his chest. He had vowed that the Elder Wand would stay with Dumbledore in his grave until the day he died. Yet here he was, barely a month and a half later, retrieving the wand for his own selfish needs. But he would only need it once…just this once.

Entering the unsheltered light of the moon was like stepping into the sun from the dark, and Harry found himself moving more quickly despite himself, as if the moonlight would suddenly alert Hogwarts of their presence. The grass on the Hogwarts grounds was dry and crunched under their feet as they walked like the soft crackling of a fire. And then he saw it, shining like a white beacon in the night: Dumbledore's grave.

Harry trekked towards the grave with ever-waning determination. Draco's voice was suddenly at his side. "There? You hid it there? But it's such an—"

"Obvious place?" Harry finished for him. He flashed Draco a wry smile. "It is, I suppose. But we thought it should be with him. It was really his, after all."

"Don't start getting all philosophical on me, Potter."

Harry threw the other boy an empty glare but otherwise remained silent. They came up upon the white marble tomb, somber silence falling in a veil around them. Tears gathered at the back of Harry's eyes as he stared down at the grave. He remembered Dumbledore's death vividly…too vividly, as if it were an image branded in his mind serving only to remind him of yet another person he wasn't strong enough to save.

"I'm sorry for the part I played in it," Draco's voice was a soft whisper on the wind. He ran a long pale hand along the edge of the marble. "I regret that Snape was the one who had to do it in the end. Snape loved him more than I ever did."

Harry's pressed his eyes shut against the tears. "It had to happen the way it did. Snape knew, and Dumbledore knew too."

There was a long pause. "He must've had a lot of faith in you, to feel like he could leave you on your own like he did."

Harry laughed ruefully, turning his face up towards the night sky. "Yeah. I don't know why though."

"I do."

Harry's eyes flicked open and he looked at Draco. He was smiling at him in one of those beautiful smiles that so rarely graced his face, and Harry couldn't hold back the silent tears that dropped down his cheeks. He exhaled forcefully and stepped away from the grave. "You're going to have to get it. I don't think I can."

"Isn't it…warded?"

"Yes but," Harry nodded firmly, "you'll be alright."

Draco grimaced, his brow furrowing. "You give me such confidence."

Harry turned away, drawing his arms close to his chest and gripping at the fabric of his shirt. The chill in the air was strange for a July evening, and Harry couldn't help but feel that what they were doing was wrong. But he couldn't wait any more.

Draco muttered a soft "Wingardium Leviosa," and there was the distinct sound of grinding stone on stone. A few moments later the sound came again, followed by the supple sound of approaching footsteps. "I got it," he sounded breathless, and somehow surprised.

The wand appeared in front of him, clutched in the security of Draco's thin fingers. Harry took it from him, and its weight felt unnaturally heavy in his hands. He wondered how many times he'd seen this wand in Dumbledore's hand and never thought anything of it. Heavy lies the crown, Harry though idly. He turned to face Draco, his forehead creasing, "What do you think I should do?"

Draco licked his lips, his eyes like twin mirrors. "Just try the spell."

Harry nodded curtly. "Right. I'll try." He closed his eyes and held the wand firmly before him, concentrating all his energy into this one spell. Magic flowed through his veins like some live thing, bending and shaping at Harry's will. "Finite Incantatum!" He flourished the wand with unfaltering accuracy, and placed the tip to his chest. Warmth flickered like a wavering flame at the tip of the wand, lingering for but a second before it rushed across his body and enveloped him in a blanket of a strange, soothing heat. There was a bright flash from behind the darkness of his lids, and then nothing but the chill of a cool wind.

Unspoken moments of expectation lingered in the air. "There was a light." Draco said. "Does that mean it worked?"

Harry blinked several times, lowering the wand hand to his side. "I don't know." He…well he did feel different. Breathing seemed easier to him now, as if there had been a weight there before that was now removed. His nerves still buzzed Draco's presence at his side, and yet the usual suffocating heat that had accompanied it before had cooled into a warm glow that filled Harry with a strange sort of tickling excitement. He still felt altered, but not in the same way as before.

He turned to face the other boy. "I don't know," he repeated. "But I know how to find out." In one step, the space between them closed into nothing. Harry's left hand rose to hover just above the exposed skin of Draco's neck, and it tingled in anticipation of the touch. "Can I?"

Draco's chest was rising and falling a bit too rapidly. "Yes."

And then Harry's hand was on Draco's neck, and the chill of the night disappeared as if it had never been. There was heat, yes, but it was nothing like before. It was lighter now; caressing him like the edge of a petal. He waited for it; the overwhelming crash of uncontrollable need that burned him like an all consuming fire, but it didn't come. There was only a pressing yearning that drummed in his chest, still and strong. Harry's head dipped forward until their noses touched and he could taste Draco in his breath.

Draco trembled beneath him, his chest now rising and falling in ragged bursts. "Harry?" he questioned in a shaky voice.

"It's different from before." Harry's voice was a low tinted whisper. "But it's the same too, somehow." Harry gazed at Draco, for once feeling like he had a secure hold over this untamable emotion. He was waiting; looking for something—anything—that would tell him that Draco could feel this thing that had Harry stirred so. He needed to know that this—whatever it was—wasn't just some twist in the spell. He needed to know if it was real.

His hand kneaded against the velvet skin of Draco's neck, eliciting from him the smallest of sounds. A sound of wanting. A sound of needing. It plucked Harry's heart like the strings of a harp…and it was all he needed. He pressed forward, his lips meeting Draco's softly, questioning.

Draco made a muffled sound of surprise and for a fearful moment, Harry thought the other boy was going to pull away like before. But then, in a flickering moment forever suspended in time, Draco's mouth moved beneath his, and the taste of mint and cider flooded into Harry's mouth—nectar to a parched tongue. Slender hands worked their way up Harry's torso to sit on his shoulders, and it was all too much. Eleven days of watching those hands. Eleven days spent craving a touch he knew he couldn't have. Eleven torturous days thinking that the anguish would never end. And now, those hands branded him. Harry's eyes fluttered closed as the Elder Wand fell from his fingers to hit the ground in silence, and his newly freed hand slipped around Draco's back to pull him closer.

Mouths moved, hungry and eager. Teeth clacked, biting and nipping at lips as their tongues met and raged with insatiable fury. They pulled at each other until there was no telling where one body ended and the other started. The warm glow inside of Harry flared and something beautiful churned in the heated coils of Harry's blood; a dark desire such as he had never felt before.

Fingers, hard and firm, dug into the cloth of Harry's shirt. "Harry," Draco whispered breathlessly in the heat of their exchange. "We can't…"

Harry didn't open his eyes. "It's gone." He moved down to Draco's neck, trailing his tongue along the milky skin, tasting the salt of sweat and feeling a fleeting pulse quiver beneath his lips. "You were right. The spell worked. You were right."

Draco gasped and arched at the vibrations that thrummed against his throat. "Then," there was a pained quality in his voice, "why are you—I shouldn't be…don't…"

"Draco?" This time Harry did open his eyes. He pulled back to look at him, worry marking his features. That worry then turned to dread, when Draco opened his eyes and Harry saw that those grey depths were misted with tears. "Draco? I didn't—are you okay?" Harry raised his hands to cup Draco's cheeks. "Did I hurt you? Did I…"

"No." Draco took Harry by the wrists and lowered the hands from his face. "No you didn't." He averted his gaze, studying Harry's hands instead. His thumbs moved along the tanned skin, his brows knit together and his jaw set firm. "But…I don't understand."

"Understand what?" Harry inclined his head, trying to catch Draco's dancing eyes.

"Why you kissed me just now."

"I would think that much is obvious." Harry smiled, hoping that Draco would notice and find comfort in it.

Draco's ministrations abruptly stopped. "But—But you said that you weren't…"

"Maybe I just didn't know."

Draco glanced up, looking reproachful. "Didn't know? How could you not know something like that?"

Harry shrugged innocently, and moved his hands into Draco's, interlacing their fingers. "Then maybe it's just you. Do you have a problem with it?"

Draco flushed, but Harry couldn't tell if it was because he was offended or something else. "I do."

Harry barely suppressed the flinch that shot through him. He went very still, his muscles going cold and tight. "You kissed me back you know."

"I—" Draco pulled his hands from Harry's and stepped back, "—it's not what you think it is." Draco blinked quickly in attempt to dispel the wetness in his eyes.

Harry wanted to step after him, but didn't. Something was wrong. Harry knew Draco had a quick temper and could have a good row with the best of them. He knew that Draco's bouts of anger were most times unwarranted if not completely unprovoked. But more than all of that…Harry knew that no matter what, Draco always was in complete and in full awareness of his emotions. Discipline and control were two things that he had when all else was lost. Draco was not the type to simply break down and cry in front of someone. Sneer and yell, yes, but never cry. He was far too proud for something like that. So standing there, watching Draco vainly fighting the tears that welled up in his eyes, Harry knew that he was beyond any normal level of upset.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked tentatively, keeping his voice gentle.

"I mean that I am not going to let you do this!" Draco burst like a dam breaking. Hot wetness flowed freely over his cheeks, and Draco scrubbed them away with his sleeve, looking half in shock as he noticed the dark tear stains that came away.

"Draco…" Harry stepped forward, only to be mirrored by Draco's step backwards. Harry's throat felt tight as he spoke, "Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't!" Draco stepped back once more, putting yet more space between them. His eyes flicked towards the forest, and for a moment Harry wondered if he was preparing to bolt. "I can't be what you want, Potter!"

"Why?" Harry asked. "Because we're both men?"

"You know that's not it!"

"Then what? You—you don't like me?"

"No!" Draco gestured wildly. "I just can't alright? I shouldn't need to give a reason other than that!"

Harry surged towards Draco, his fists balling at his sides. "You know that's not good enough—it wouldn't be for you!"

"You can't force me to be in a relationship with you!"

"Who said anything about a relationship?

Even in the white light of the moon, Draco's face was quite red now. A hard wind blew, ruffling Draco's hair and brushing it across his forehead. "Isn't that the sort of thing you'd want? You're the one who said you believed in love!"

"Draco," Harry felt the night quiver with the force of his voice, "you're not making any sense! I'm not asking you to do anything! It was just a kiss!"

"I don't care what it was! I don't want any part of it!"

The weight of the blow sent Harry staggering back. He felt as if a hook had just plunged into his heart and Draco was trying to reel it out.

Standing there, all tense muscles and hard lines, Draco looked impossibly aged. The corners of his mouth pulled down desperately as he looked to the forest, then back to Harry again. "Look I—I didn't mean…I'm saying these things for your sake, not mine."

"My sake?" Harry spat bitterly.

"It's already hard enough for us to be friends," Draco continued. Harry could see him trying to piece back together the stone mask he always wore, but with with every chip he replaced, another would fall. "Everywhere I go there are people talking about me, and when we're together I hate that you can hear them! I hate that there's never going to be a day in my life that this brand on my arm isn't a part of who I am! Don't you get it? The wizarding world has become a place where I don't belong anymore! I'm not welcome!" He seemed to be cracking—his very foundation crumbling beneath him and leaving him open to fall into the void. "And I'm under no delusion about what's going to happen to me. Most of the Slytherins in our year were of age when the Battle of Hogwarts happened, and the Ministry isn't just going to let us slide by without consequence. They've already started building cases against Goyle, Blaise, Pansy and Daphne. You think that I'll just be left out of that? You think that I'm going to come out of this unscathed? Do you think that you would be left out of it if you were next to me?"

Harry stared at him, his blood so hot that it made his limbs tremble. "Is that all?"

Draco took a sharp breath, his mouth opening to speak words that couldn't seem to make it out.

"Draco, I don't care," Harry insisted. "I don't care about any of that. What people would say—that's never mattered to me. I don't need their approval, and I don't need your protection."

Draco swallowed, the lump in his throat bobbing. "I don't understand what it is that you want."

Harry closed the final distance between them, grabbing Draco's wrist so that he couldn't pull away. Grey eyes grew wide, fear cracking across them like a flash of lightning. "I want to kiss you again," Harry said softly. "Tell me that you don't want me to and I won't."

"I just told you—"

"You told me about things that have nothing to do with what I'm asking you or how you feel. Do you not want me to kiss you?"

"Harry," Draco whispered.

"I thought so." Harry slid his hand around Draco's neck and gave his wrist a sharp pull, crashing their lips together.

Draco went stiff against him for only a moment, before all the air in his lungs slipped out of his nose and he melted into Harry's mouth. His hands moved to grip Harry's shoulders, his fingers curling into the collar of his shirt as he pulled Harry in closer. Their chests met, all hard bone and muscle, and with a shaken sigh, Draco parted his lips and breathed a moist heat against Harry's cupid's bow. A warm shiver skirted down Harry's spine as Draco's tongue glided along his bottom lip, coaxing him open.

"You never listen," Draco said, kneading at the skin just beneath Harry's pulse point.

"I listen on occasion." Harry moved to thread his fingers into Draco's hair. It felt as soft and fine as flour.

"Only when it suits you."

"That's probably one of the reasons why the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin."

Draco smiled against him, and Harry felt his heart swell. "And you're sure," Draco whispered, kissing him again, "that the spell is gone?"

"I'm sure." Their tongues met, causing Harry to shudder. "It's just me."

Draco nipped at the corner of Harry's mouth. "Ah, yes, just you; the questionably deaf rotten prat."

Harry pulled back, smiling from ear to ear. He pressed his nose into Draco's cheek, enjoying the warmth he found there. "I'm not sure what you're insinuating."

"Look at you using five syllable words!"

"I've come a long way."

"I have half a mind to take back half of the bad things I said about you."

Harry pouted, moving his lips to hover against Draco's once more. "Only half?"

"I'm sure you could conv—"

"Harry!" a shrill voice squealed; a voice that Harry was quite positive did not belong to Draco Malfoy. Both boys started as the world around them shattered, and Harry's nerves jarred so violently that for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Harry whirled around, one arm lingering possessively around Draco, and paled at the sight before him. Then a figure came into focus, and his arm dropped to his side. "Oh." Harry gulped. "'Ello Hermione."