Harco oneshots

by NayaJ2001

This is a series of Drarry and Harco oneshots by different authors made available for your easy reading pleasure by yours truly... these oneshots are spicyyyy so you behave been warned. Please, enjoy

16. Erised de sidere 2 by kalime80

CHAPTER 2

Monday 4-02-2013

In our dream, we're on the lakeshore. The lake is frozen solid. Draco's face is streaked with tears. We kiss. It's like a backwards Dementor's kiss: all the happiness of the world floods me, and I've never felt my soul be so clearlyherebefore. Draco's tears disappear, and his smile is the single most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The lake melts.

I'm sure this particular dream came from Draco's mind. He knows that today I'm to attend the D.A.D.A. lesson again and that I'm uncomfortable with the thought. Andromeda will focus on the "know your fears" bit of defence, using Boggarts like Lupin did. What if mine turns into a Dementor again? Being scared of fear itself may be wise, but the so-called Saviour of the Wizarding World cannot be paralyzed by it. What if I'm too slow to react? I guess thoughts of kissing Draco will help me Conjure the mightiest Patronus of my life.

As expected, Andromeda starts the lesson with a speech.

"Students, Defence is not only about defeating your enemies. Furthermore, Dark Wizards often use your weaknesses against you. You have to stay strong nonetheless, never allowing them to break you down. Not even under the Cruciatus Curse. I know what I'm talking about, here. I'm aware the war is over: this doesn't mean you'll never need to fight again. And to be good at Defending yourself, you need to master your fears. Before that, you need to know what your weakest point is. We're working with Boggarts today. I know you did it in Third Year. You should already know the Riddikulus spell, but it is not the focus of this lesson. We'll focus on understanding your deepest fears here. Ready? Let's begin."

The lesson is going pretty well, and the massive use of Riddikulus makes it even pleasant, as the other students' fears take form and are turned into laughter.

This changes abruptly with Draco's turn. The Boggart becomes Draco himself: he's huddled in the fetal position, with tears streaming down his face, and wails, "I love you, please don't leave me," in a small, desperate voice.

As the real Draco is staring at it stock-still, clearly unable to react, I throw myself between him and the Boggart. It changes into a tombstone, carved out of green-veined marble.

As soon as I understand what I'm looking at, I cast Riddikulus, changing the engraving to:

"He was a suicide blond, dyed by his own hand."

The class bursts into laughter, and Draco stares at me. Relief and indignation struggle for dominion on his face, slowly chasing the distressed looks away.

In the end, he drawls haughtily. "As you should know perfectly well, Potter, I'm a natural blond. Furthermore, I'd never kill myself".

His bravado does not deceive me. I know he's still upset, and I ask Andromeda for permission to leave the room. Truth is, I need to be alone with him where we can touch and hug and take comfort in each other. In the time I needed to cast the spell, I was able to read the name carved on the stone: Draco's name.

Seems our worst fear is losing one another.

We spend the lunch break standing in a niche, hugging each other so tightly, our arms tremble, and murmuring soft reassurances.

In the afternoon, Neville has to excuse me from Herbology, since I'm not letting Draco out of my sight or my arms, not right now. He skips Alchemy as well, and we kiss and kiss and kiss until we're almost healed. Then we keep on kissing, just because.

Wednesday 13-02-2012

In our dream, I'm chased by dragons. Hungarian Horntails and Chinese Fireballs and Swedish Short-Snouts and Ukrainian Ironbellies and Norwegian Ridgebacks, they're all chasing me. I've just stolen the golden egg they were protecting, and they're furious at me. I rescued the egg, though, and that's the important thing.

Later, I'm in the Prefects' bathroom, the golden egg cradled on my chest, chin-deep in the oily water.

I sink in, holding my breath, and hear the Merpeople's song. As I resurface, the rounded shape in my hands is no more a golden egg: it's Draco's head. His hair is dripping wet and a shade darker than usual: pure gold. His body presses mine down, warm and slick. His voice sounds more alluring than that of any siren. He sings to me about sinking in, about something that I'll sorely miss, something that belongs to me. He's still chanting about love as he gives me back what should be mine, sliding it inside me. He fills me, and I'm complete, the missing piece recovered at last.

Making love in dreams is not enough. Kissing in the corners between lessons is not enough. Snogging and cuddling in Gryffindor's common room is not enough. Hugging in the dark corners is not enough.

We do not dare take off clothes in the corridors. It's still too cold to go outside. On the Astronomy Tower, we barely avoided getting caught. After the last time, Neville will never allow us in the Hothouses again.

I need to feel Draco's hands on my naked skin, and to have my hands all over him. I need to see him while I touch, to see his face as he touches me. I ache for it.

It seems our dreams may be smarter than I am: the Prefect's bathroom, with its huge bathtub, it's the perfect place. I've been there. Why haven't I thought of it before?

In the afternoon, I explain my idea to Draco; I must admit, I expected a more enthusiastic reaction.

"I do not want to be seen naked by that constantly complaining ghost..."

"Moaning Myrtle? Merlin, I forgot about her! I don't want an audience! Last time she kept trying to look underneath the foam..."

"What? How dared she? She's lucky to be already dead, or... Anyway, the place has its appeal. How can we get rid of the nosy ghost?"

"Maybe someone could lure her out for an evening..."

"Good idea. Who? One of your friends? Who'd ever want to spend the evening with her? She's insufferable! The last time I had the misfortune of meeting her, right before you found me in the bathroom, she was happy there was someone else crying with her. Do you realize?"

"Yes, I get it. One must be dead to suffer her. Where do we go then? Draco, I need..."

"Harry, you're brilliant!"

"What? Well, thanks, I suppose. Why?"

"You said it. Only dead people will suffer her. We'll ask someone who is dead!"

"Another ghost, you mean? You know she doesn't like the other ghosts..."

"She's a pathetic teen-aged, angst-ridden ghost, isn't she?"

"Yes, but..."

"It's done, then. We'll set her up on a date. There's the ghost of a young Highwayman in the Slytherin Dungeons who looks quite dashing. I bet she'd love to go out with him. I'll arrange it with the Bloody Baron. Be ready for me, Potter, my love, tomorrow at nine. Do not bother to bring clothes."

"I am already ready for you, Draco. See?"

I briefly press my hips against his groin so he'll feel how ready I am. He feels ready as well.

Thursday 14-02-2012

In our dream, I'm following Draco. I'm sure he's up to something. He enters the bathroom. I follow. As I finally reach him, he's leaning on a sink, his knitted vest discarded on the floor. Hearing footsteps, he turns, his wand at the ready. When he sees it's me, he casts a Vanishing spell to my clothes. I answer with a spell that tears his clothing to ribbons. Merlin, he's gorgeous with the shredded remains of his shirt and trousers barely hanging on his body. Before he can complain about the waste of good fabrics, I silence him with kisses, my hands roaming over his skin. We end up on the floor, our naked flesh firmly pressed together. The fluid splattering Draco's chest after a while is not blood. Definitely not.

We have a history in bathrooms, Draco and I.

I'm almost bursting with excitement at the idea of seeing Draco naked in real life, of being completely naked with him, free to touch and kiss and gaze without clothes getting in the way.

After lunch, we hug before parting ways: his hands cup my arse so tightly that, for a moment, I consider skipping lessons and begging Draco to tell Myrtle her date with the Highwayman ghost has been put forward. I resist.

After the afternoon double Transfigurations, we walk together to the Gryffindor common room, taking up the couch in front of the fireplace. I'm almost sitting on Draco's lap, and our kisses get steamier and steamier as time passes. Luckily, none of my House mates interrupt us.

I've been half-hard all day.

I am painfully so as I enter the bathroom right after dinner. Draco is waiting for me, sitting on a bench, fully clothed apart for his graceful, naked feet. The big bathtub is filled to the brim with steaming, herbal-scented water. Hearing the door open, he lifts his head and looks in my general direction.

"Finally. Get out of your Invisibility Cloak."

I discard it, and Draco pouts in disappointment: underneath it, I'm wearing a sweater and jeans. I did consider not wearing any clothes, but chickened out.

Draco rises and we share a kiss.

Suddenly, being here is awkward: embarrassment builds, and we stand one in front of each other, not knowing what to do next. Draco's blush is the cutest thing I've ever seen.

I brace myself and take off my sweater quickly, then I kick my shoes away and I shimmy out of my trousers. Draco smirks at my red cotton pants.

"Your turn now."

Draco begins unbuttoning his shirt, almost reluctantly.

"Draco, come on! I think I already touched and kissed everything there is. I want to see you, too."

He lets his shirt slide from his shoulders.

My eyes are glued to his chest.

"What are you staring at?"

"You."

"I'm sorry for not being perfect."

"Draco, what? You don't think...?"

"I know for sure. When you first dreamed of me, my body was perfect. It's not. I'm scarred. It was your fault, anyway."

"It was, and you know how sorry I am for that. If I could take it back, I'd do it. But Draco, you are. Perfect. To me. Never doubt it."

As a reminder, I trace the crisscross of the dark lines on his chest, with fingers and breath and tongue, adoringly. The skin where my careless spell slashed him tastes no different from the rest, and the scars are smooth, un-ridged, only their shade making them perceptible. When I kissed and caressed him on the Astronomy Tower, I wasn't able to feel them at all.

He gasps and shudders and allows my touches.

"Some days I'm almost glad you scarred me."

"I'm not. Not because they make you less perfect, because they don't. But the pain... You could have died. Had I known what the spell did..."

"What your silly spell did, Potter, was cut into my flesh a brand that wasn't Voldemort's. I used to trace those scars, alone in my bed, pretending to feel your touch. The only way you would ever touch me, by hurting me."

"I am touching you now. I'll never hurt you again. Here, feel it? Hands and mouth and everything, on your body, not hurting. I love you, Draco."

"Good, then. Ready for the big show?"

I stare at him unblinkingly as he lowers both his trousers and pants in a quick motion, baring himself completely. It's a mouth-watering vision, his straining cock, and I stand mesmerized.

"Now you, Potter. Catch me."

He slides in the hot water, and I hasten to strip my pants off and follow him.

The tub is big, and Draco's in a teasing mood now, so we swim around for a while. Finally, he allows me to reach him. Our bodies are slicked by the soapy water, and Draco's cock slides deliciously against mine as we hug. I barely believe this is not a dream.

Draco sits on an underwater bench and drags me to straddle his lap. His flesh is burning hot.

"Harry, please touch me."

I caress his chest, tracing the scars again and teasing his nipples for a while, before dipping lower and taking him in my hand, stroking him. Draco buries his face in my neck, nibbling and kissing the soft skin and making me moan. His knuckles brush against mine as he closes his hand around my cock. His lips run all over my jawbone and finally claim my mouth.

Being able to do this at leisure, looking into each other's eyes, skin on skin, is a maddening pleasure.

Afterwards, we float together in utter relaxation.

"So, did you get me a present?"

"A present? Why? Isn't your birthday in June?"

"For Valentine's day, you dunderhead!"

"Is it Valentine's day? Guess I forgot. I was so excited about the idea of having you in this room..."

"You are a substandard boyfriend sometimes. Would you mind, were I to take my own gift from you?"

Arousal spikes through me again at the sultry tone of his voice. "Help yourself."

Draco circles my hips and lifts me up, making me sit on the ledge of the tub. He spreads my legs with his hands under my knees and buries his face on my left inner thigh, nuzzling and kissing. I'm immediately hard again. With painful slowness, and painstakingly avoiding my throbbing length, he traces an arc of kisses from one hipbone to the other, never lifting from my skin. He nibbles at the other thigh for a while, and then finally his tongue is on my cock, tracing its length with one single swipe, from root to tip. He lingers quite a lot, teasing me in this fashion. I'm not aware of the noises issuing from my parted lips, but he must understand I'm on the brink of madness, because he takes me whole into his mouth at last.

I drown in sensations: tongue and lips and the slightest scrape of teeth, every movement seems designed to coax a mind-blowing orgasm out of me. I surrender to his skill.

As he pulls me back into the hot water, he swallows and licks his lips.

"Thank you, Harry, for such a thoughtful Valentine's present. It was exactly what I wanted."

"You're very welcome. Where's my present, then?"

"You already unwrapped it, Potter, you git."

"Did I? May I play with it then?"

I may. The perfect present, indeed.

Friday 15-02-2013

In our dream, we're underwater. We shared Gillyweed, and breathing isn't a need anymore. Our mouths are locked. Draco's eyes are impossibly deep, his hair a golden halo floating around his head. My legs are wrapped securely around his waist. His hands cup my arse, holding me as close as possible. He's inside me.

I'm his oyster, all smooth and slick; he's the hard object that will be turned into pearls.

I'm still feeling languorous and happy when I meet Draco at breakfast. We share a lingering kiss that's interrupted by the cold sensation of a ghost passing through us.

It's the Highwayman ghost.

Draco addresses him politely. "Did you enjoy your date, Sir? No need to thank us."

"Thank you? I should cut your throats and steal your horses and clothes! It was the worst night of my life... of my death... whatever! Not even being hanged can compare! The nerve you had, pairing me with that whiner! She never stopped talking about her death! Se took me on a tour of the piping! Do you realize? Yards and yards of dunk, damp, smelly piping!"

I try to placate him. "Yes, well, I'm sorry..."

"I will show you sorry, if you don't keep that insufferable little moaner away from me!"

I must admit I'm relieved when he storms off. "He wasn't really nice with us, was he?"

"But how would you like to spend a night with Moaning Myrtle, Potter?"

"If you put it that way. It's a pity, though. If they got on, we could have many more nights..."

"I suppose I could always come up with others ideas for getting rid of the whiner for a night." Draco ponders the problem for a while. "What about the Fat Friar?"

"He's a Friar, Draco! Why should he be interested in dating anyone?"

"Why not? All right, all right, let me think."

After the morning lessons and lunch, I meet with Draco to further discuss strategy.

It seems he did not find any convincing idea.

"Peeves?"

"Draco, are you serious? He's insufferable!"

"That's the point. They are clearly made for one another."

"How do you plan to convince him? He hates students..."

"Ruled out, then. Sir Podmore?"

"Yes... because he already fell head over heels for her..."

"Cut the sarcasm, Potter. Doesn't Gryffindor have a quite pleasant ghost?"

"Nearly Headless Nick? Please! He's old. Why not the Bloody Baron, then?"

"Creepy. Plus, he's still punishing himself for what happened with Helena Ravenclaw, you know it. He'll never go out with another ghost. We'll be more successful pairing Myrtle with the Grey Lady herself!"

"Draco, that's brilliant!"

"What? Potter, are you completely daft? Are my kisses addling your brain? I was joking!"

"Why not? Myrtle was in Ravenclaw after all..."

"...and she has always taken every chance she could of ogling you! No way, trust me."

"So what can we do about Myrtle?"

This is, obviously, the moment when she appears.

"You're sweet, Harry, worrying about me. Did you hear about my date? It was awful! He was such a brute! He didn't want to hear about my death, he didn't want to sit on the siphon with me, he didn't even like the pipes!"

"I'm sorry, Myrtle." I really feel guilty now.

"Don't worry. The mermaid on the glass window told me everything. Next time you're going to make out with Malfoy in the Prefect's bathroom, don't worry about me. I'll stay in a corner, quiet."

I stomp surreptitiously on Draco's foot to prevent him from talking.

"Thank you, Myrtle. We'll see."

She floats away, and I try to silence Draco with my tongue, without success.

"Did you hear her? The nerve of suggesting... And that mermaid, spying on us! Though I must admit, together we are a sight to behold. Harry, love..."

"We need another place, I know. What about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Never been there. Isn't it where you killed...? Never mind. Yeah, fine. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

Saturday 16 -02-2013

In our dream, we're surrounded by bare, damp rock. We're naked, but not even the flesh-on-flesh contact keeps us warm. Draco's weight pins me down on something hard and lumpy, and I realize with a jolt that we're lying on the spine of the Basilisk, his ribs caging us in. We do not want to make love here.

Suddenly, we find ourselves on a huge mattress. All around us, floating candles light up the place. The linens are soft under my back; Draco is hard on my belly. I match his hardness. Now, this is a good place to make love.

This morning, the idea brilliantly bouncing inside my head prevents me from learning anything.

I can't wait to talk to Draco about it, but I'd rather wait after lunch and not be overheard. I'm pretty sure Hermione wouldn't approve of it. The way Draco kisses me, however, lets me know he can feel something's up. Besides the obvious.

In the afternoon, I'm busy with Quidditch practice. Draco waits for me by the pitch, embracing me as soon as I'm off the broom.

"Draco, I'm all sweaty."

"I like you sweaty. Come here, you."

His kisses are intoxicating, and for a moment, I lose myself in them, then I remember what I've wanted to tell him the whole day.

"Draco, we can be together, alone, where no-one will disturb us or spy on us..."

"I know I agreed yesterday, love, but if the Chambers of Secrets is like it was in our dream..."

"Pretty much is, I fear."

"...then no way I'll get naked around that skeleton."

"What? No, of course not. In our dream, we also went to a soft bed."

"It was my attempt to escape that depressing, scary place."

"But there's a place, here, that will adapt to our needs..."

"Is there?"

"We had the party there... the Room of Requirement. Ring any bell?"

"Never heard of it."

This takes me by surprise for a moment, and then I remember that he only experienced it as the Room of Hidden Things, because that was what he was looking for. I don't want to remind him about the whole repairing-the-cabinets-and-allowing-Death-Eaters-inside-Hogwarts incident, nor about the Fiendfyre where Crabbe died, but I know he'll recognize the place as soon as we'll reach the corridor. I offer him the truth in the simplest way, hoping he won't be affected too much. "Remember the Room of Hidden Things? It's the same room. Basically, it turns into what you need at the moment..."

"The Room..." his face falls for a moment. "Yes, I remember..."

"If you don't want to..." I offer him a way out.

"No, it's fine. Let's make good memories of the place." He smirks. "So, will this Room of Requirement become what we want? Give us anything we want?"

"As far as I've tried it, yes."

His smile is sudden and blindingly bright. "That's brilliant, Potter! Why didn't you think about it before?"

"I'm not thinking very clearly lately, and it's all your fault, Draco."

"My fault? If anything, I'm making you smarter, by osmosis."

"You also make my blood desert my brain..."

"My poor love. Will kissing you make it better?"

"You'll have to do much more than kiss me this time, to make it better."

His body is still pressed against mine, and I can feel he's got no qualms about it.

We rush to the seventh floor corridor and walk urgently in front of the hidden door. The Room inside is just like we imagined it: floating candles cast a soft light on a big bed. Then both Draco and I focus on what's on the bed, and freeze.

A mane of fiery red hair cascades over a pale, freckled back, whose owner is rising and falling rhythmically over a dark set of thighs and manly bits.

I know that hair. "Ginny!"

The movement stops, but she doesn't turn around. "Get out, Harry, we'll talk later!"

I unfreeze and drag Draco outside. He leans on the wall; I slide down to sit on the floor.

"Seems the Weaslette had our very same requirements." Draco states the obvious.

"Yeah..."

"She managed to ensnare Blaise, then."

"Yeah..."

"Love, you are usually a bit more articulate than this. Care to explain?"

"I don't know," I start reflexively, "if I'm more disappointed about not having the Room to ourselves or more put off by what we saw..."

"If you're put off, it's just as well, since we are lacking a convenient place. Again. This is incredibly frustrating."

"Yeah... and we also will have to face Ginny and Blaise, later."

"Don't remind me."

"Draco? Do you want to wait till they're finished, and then be in the Room with me?"

"I'd love to be with you, in every possible way. But if we were able to walk in on them, what if somebody else has the same urges while we're, how shall I say, distracted? The idea of someone else looking at you when you're in the throes of passion is unbearable..."

"I don't want other people to see us either. No Room of Requirement, then?"

"I fear so. Come on, there should be an empty corridor somewhere..."

There is, but kissing hidden in uncomfortable corners is not nearly enough.

We confront Blaise and a dishevelled Ginny just before dinner. To be true, it's quite amicable.

"So, Blaise, seems you like the taste of Gryffindors, after all!"

"What's there not to like?" Blaise answers openly.

Ginny looks really happy hanging on his arm, so I feel compelled to warn him. "Careful, Zabini, or Ron will cut your bits off and eat them for breakfast."

Ginny punches me lightly on the arm. "That's what I said to Malfoy when you started dating him, you stealer!"

Blaise straightens his spine and answers coldly. "I can assure you, Potter, that if any member of the Weasley family is going to eat my bits, it won't be Ron."

"Spare us the details!" Draco and I chide in unison.

"If you didn't want details," smirks Ginny mischievously, "you could have stayed out of the Room."

"We didn't know you'd be in there," I say apologetically. "We just wanted..."

"Spare us the details!" Ginny and Blaise chorus.

We spend the evening in a deserted classroom, not daring to do much more than kiss. Kissing is almost enough to make me reconsider the idea of going to the Room of Requirements again. Almost.

As we part ways, each of us headed to his own dorm, I start plotting in my mind. I have the Marauder's Map and the Cloak of Invisibility. I should be able to sneak into the dungeons...

Ron is not in his bed. By the time Neville's snores finally signal he is fast asleep, I'm almost exploding with impatience. Rummaging in my trunk in search of the Cloak, my hands find a smooth cloth. After a moment, I remember the pyjamas Hermione gifted me. I strip quickly and don it on my bare skin. After all, seducing a Malfoy requires the proper attire.

I'm buttoning up the pyjama top when I feel a tug. Suddenly, I find myself in the secluded space of Draco's four-poster bed. The heavy, velvet curtains are closed, and only a weak Lumos enlightens his face.

"Draco, are you all right?"

"Fine. I just happen to find myself in dire need of a Saviour, and since you said you wouldn't mind being summoned..."

Draco tosses back his hair, and it's only then I notice he's completely naked, propped up on his elbows, his legs spread open. His cock seems painfully hard. I sit in the v formed by his thighs, my legs surrounding his hips, close enough to press my answering hardness to his hot length.

Amazingly, Draco's brain can still work, and he recognizes the feel of the fabric separating us.

"Harry, love, are you wearing silk?"

"Yes... They are pyjamas Hermione gave me for Christmas. She said I'd need silk to seduce you."

"To seduce me, you just need your skin."

His hands cup my silk-clad arse, caressing and searching.

"Harry... are you naked underneath?"

"What if I am?"

"I'll ask what you were doing all alone in your dorm, wearing silk."

"I was thinking about your skin."

"Weren't you planning to pay me a visit? You are, after all, in possession of an Invisibility Cloak."

"You'll never know. I'm here now anyway. What do you plan to do with me?"

While talking, we never stop rocking and thrusting against each other.

"I'd love to see you walk in those pyjamas sometime soon. I'd love to peel them off you, slowly, uncovering your naked flesh one delicious bit at a time. Not now. Now I'll content myself with imagining it. What colour are they?"

"The colour of your eyes."

"They really looks good on you then... Harry, I like silk, but I like your skin more. Do something, please."

I remove the offending garments, quickly and clumsily, eager to feel Draco's skin on mine.

He's right, no silk can compare.

Having my aching cock pressed against the smooth hotness of Draco's is pure bliss, but it's not nearly enough. I close my hand around our lengths, squeezing and stroking. Draco leans to retrieve something from his bedside drawer: a darkish bottle.

"Mmmh?"

"Almond oil. Useful for many things. Here, let me."

He pours a good dollop of the oil into his palm, and spreads it over our burning erections. His hand joins mine, and the friction, slicked by the oil, is so intense I feel dizzy.

Draco lets himself fall on his back, and I follow his movement. His bottom lip is the most delicious thing in the whole world. We're lying chest to chest, cock to cock, undulating and trembling and rubbing against each other, and I've never felt like this before. Draco's hands, still slick with oil, trace circles on my back and fondle my buttocks.

"Draco, please... I want... you, my love... more..."

His hand slides lower, tracing my crack up and down, until finally, blessedly, his fingertip grazes my entrance. Feeling his touch there sears my nerve-ends. Before I can beg him for more, I'm swept away by a mind-blowing orgasm. Draco's follows in a heartbeat.

"Harry... stay the night?"

"Not moving. Love you, Dray."

"Goodnight, love."

Sated and spent, we fall asleep into each other's arms.

Sunday 17-02-2013

In our dream, I'm sleeping all over Draco, the sweet scent of his hair tickling my nostrils. I can sense the change in his breathing. Two silver moons open up and search my face, intently. Our naked skin is still glued together by the remains of our shared pleasure. Just remembering it, I'm already harder than the morning hour accounts for. Draco's hand cups me, and I realize with a jolt that I'm not dreaming: I am in Draco's bed, in the Slytherin dorm, where I spent the night.

A brief stab of alarm is drowned in Draco's mouth as we share foul-breathed, delicious kisses.

"Mmmh... should have done this ages ago," he murmurs.

"Draco, you awake?"

Blaise's voice startles us, effectively killing my excitement. Reality sinks in: I am in Draco's bed, in the Slytherin dorm, without my Cloak. Hell, without proper clothes. I'll never get out of here alive.

We scramble to retrieve some clothing, as silently and stealthily as possible. I put on my pyjamas, for lack of a better option, while Draco dons a sweater and some trousers.

"I know you're there, Draco."

"I'm not decent, Blaise."

"Of course you aren't. It's been hard to miss the fact you have company, from the noises you two were making. Use a Silencing Charm next time. Morning, Potter."

"Blaise." I try to hide my embarrassment.

"On second thought," he continues, "it would be better if there weren't a next time. Pansy is in the common room ranting because you still are not up. Be grateful I prevented her from barging in..."

Draco sounds extremely annoyed. "And when will the silly bint acknowledge the fact that, whatever her parents may say, I'll never even remotely be interested in her?"

"Maybe if you flaunt Potter's naked body in front of her she'll get it..."

Outrage takes the place of my embarrassment quickly. "Zabini, how dare you!"

"Shush, love," Draco soothes me. "I'd never let her rest her eyes on you, naked or not. Blaise, can't you distract her while I get Harry out?"

"Just this once," Blaise concedes. "Be quick, it's almost ten already. You owe me."

"Here, Harry, wear this." Draco hands me one of his robes, transfiguring the Slytherin badge into a Gryffindor one before I can complain.

Somehow, we manage to exit the dungeons without getting caught, but it's been a close call.

"Next time, Potter, do bring your Cloak."

"The next time you'll be so eager to have me near you that you'll summon me without further notice, you mean?"

"Exactly."

He pulls me in by the lapels of the robe and kisses me deeply.

"Go find your friends. Hopefully they'll think you simply overslept. I'll talk to Pansy. See you later, love."

Luckily, Ron spent all the night in Hermione's room and Neville is an early riser: nobody noticed my absence. I spend the rest of the morning in our common room studying with my friends.

After lunch, Draco joins us.

"Harry, we need to work with method."

Hermione's radar latches onto the word. "Do not bother, Draco. How many times did I suggest he use colour-coded charts? He's simply too confident in his intuition..."

"You'll see, Granger: he'll apply himself just fine, to the problem we're trying to solve."

"Need a hand?" she offers, interested.

Draco refuses briskly. "Not at all."

"You're welcome," answers Hermione, unfazed. "Ron, in your essay, here, you should have written..."

As they argue over the essay, I scuttle closer to Draco on the couch and produce the Marauder's Map.

"Maybe we can check the whole thing until we find something... What about a secret passage between our dorm rooms?"

"Highly unlikely. I doubt Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor needed to pay each other nightly visits."

"Pity. Draco, nobody seems to go in this room here, see?"

"That was Severus' private room. I'm not ruling it out, but..."

"I'll rule it out then. There must be somewhere for us."

"I doubt Hogwarts Castle was built with the purpose of meeting the necessities of students who have lovers in another House. If you were in Slytherin..."

"How I wish it sometimes..."

"Harry, I was joking. You in Slytherin is as unlikely as me in Hufflepuff!"

"Stranger things have happened. Did I tell you where the Sorting Hat wanted to place me?"

"If it's not in my bed, I don't want to know."

"Wait... Draco, is there a door in this spot of Slytherin's common room?"

"What? Where? Under Merlin's tapestry? No, it's solid wall, I think. Why?"

"It seems to be leading to a big room, is all."

"Really?" He takes the map to have a closer look. When he next speaks, his voice is loaded with excitement. "Harry, do you know what this is? It's the Secret Chamber of Salazar, that's what it is!"

"No, the Chamber of Secrets is..."

"I didn't say the Chambers of Secrets, now, did I? In his Journal, Salazar Slytherin claims he carved his own room somewhere in the dungeons: a lavish room, his study, his bedroom, his library... his playfield, I think. If we can get inside... if you remember to bring your Cloak..."

"...we'd have our room..."

"Does your Map reveal how we get in?"

"It usually knows the passwords... see, here's the one for your dungeon... but no, it doesn't say."

"Never mind, we'll find out."

Draco's hand cups my cheek, and he gently turns my face towards him. His parted lips descend on my mouth, his tongue swirling deep and slow and sweet against mine.

I can't wait to try and get in our -- hopefully soon to be -- Secret Chamber, but we can't barge into the dungeons and lift Merlin's tapestry and bang against the wall until we understand how to open it while other Slytherin students are in the room. Reluctantly, we decide to wait until a favourable occasion shall present itself, as Draco phrases it. He does not fool me, though; I know he's as eager to find a place for us as I am, especially after the taste of bed-sharing we had last night.

Thursday 21-02-2013

In our dream, we're intimate in every possible way, and in some impossible ones as well. I'm so aroused, looking at Draco is almost enough to make me come on the spot. I live, eat and breathe Draco. Not even the dreams we shared when first bonded were like this. Now, we have a very solid idea of what we're missing.

In the waking hours, it's not better. Every kiss is charged with desire; every caress drips sensuality.

We considered going looking for the Secret Chamber everyday, but no occasion presents itself. Draco's too tall to hide with me underneath the Cloak. I thought about lending it to him, so he could explore under the tapestry unseen, but a tapestry moving on his own accord would draw just as much attention as Draco looking underneath it. If the Room is really there, and I've got no reason to doubt the Marauder's Map, we want to keep it a secret. Our secret. Therefore, we wait. It is maddening, yet it holds promises...

This week is impossibly long. We unsuccessfully try to focus on schoolwork. Our dreams have been so sensual and intense that not being able to match them with real touches has been hell. I crave Draco's skin. The fact that we're learning how to send images through our bond doesn't help either: if my mind isn't flooded by Draco's fantasies, it's filled with the ideas I'm sending to him.

The double Transfigurations lesson this afternoon can be considered torture. Draco is almost close enough to touch, projecting the visuals of my hands running on his skin, and the effort not to go to him and snog him senseless is huge. I doubt Headmistress McGonagall would appreciate it, though, even in the interest of inter-House unity.

There's a niche in the fifth floor corridor where we spend the better part of the last days kissing and groping; the stone walls are almost polished now.

I don't know who drags whom, but as soon as the lesson's over, it's there that we go, my back pressed against the wall and sweet, hard, delicious Draco pressed to my front. If our kisses were any deeper, we'd taste each other's tonsils.

"Draco... summon me to your dorm, tonight. I'll bring the Cloak..."

"Oh, love, didn't you hear Blaise? He won't cover for us."

"To hell with Blaise, and nasty Parkinson, and every other Slytherin!"

"Potter!"

"Those present excluded. Really, Draco, I can stay for a few hours and be gone while everyone is still asleep."

"Let's say you'll be able to sneak out unnoticed. Think I'll be able to send you away?"

"I don't want you to send me away..."

"I know, Harry. Are you going to spontaneously rise up and depart, then, leaving me naked and alone?"

"Draco! This is not fair! As if I don't want to spend the whole night with you..."

"That is my point. You'll want to stay, I'll want you to stay... the morning will come and you'll still be in my bed, which is a good thing. Want to bet on who will hex us first?"

"I think they'll hexme."

"They'd need to go through me first."

"Draco, I love you."

"Sappish Gryffindor. Love you too. Don't worry, Harry, we'll find our place. Meanwhile, I'll dream of you."

"This is what scares me. I don't know if I can live through another one of those dreams without jumping you on the breakfast table in the morning..."

~~*

Friday 22-02-2013

In our dream, I'm in a deserted Great Hall. I am lying over the Professors' table, naked and exposed. I'm surrounded by fruits and chocolates and ice cream and assorted sweets. Draco arrives, as naked as I am, claiming to be hungry. He eats me alive.

At the breakfast table, when Hermione asks Draco if he'd like something sweet, Draco blushes in the most delectable way. Serves him right for teasing me all night. I smirk at him.

He's saved from Ginny nagging him for explanations by Headmistress McGonagall's voice.

"Students, a moment of attention, please. I have an announcement. Tonight in Hogsmeade, a theatrical representation of Homer's Odyssey will be held. Every student who wishes to attend will gather at the main entrance at 7 p.m., and we'll leave shortly after. I encourage you all to participate, as it will be of great cultural and entertainment value."

Most Slytherins cheer loudly, and I turn a puzzled look to Draco.

"It is claimed that Ulysses is an historical figure, you know," he explains, not explaining at all.

"So what?"

"The man is the epitome of cunning: he most assuredly belonged to our House. The Odyssey is one of our favourite tales. I don't think a single Slytherin will miss the show."

I catch his meaning, and raise an eyebrow at him. "I think one will."

He winks. "You could be right."

*

The afternoon slowly turns into evening, and more than half the school is ready to go to the play. Hermione's eager to go, as she often went to theatres with her parents and misses it. She and Ginny drag a somewhat perplexed Ron to the meeting point. Blaise is clearly going with Ginny.

I claim to feel too tired and stay behind. Draco's gone to his dorm room: he'll take enough time to get ready that he'll be too late.

As soon as the huge group leaves, I run toward the Slytherin dungeons. The school seems deserted.

Draco is waiting for me by the door. We kiss heatedly and fall on the couch for much needed snogging time. I don't know what pulse is stronger, the one in my heart or the one in my cock.

"Draco, please..."

"Harry, I want..."

He shifts his legs to better accommodate me in-between; I lose balance in the attempt not to crush him. I fall from the couch.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry, love. Got carried away..."

I rise up, rubbing my butt. "Right... we should be exploring now..."

"I'll explore you just fine, Potter."

"Help yourself, Draco."

"I definitely will, as soon as we find the room."

Merlin, he really is intoxicating. For a moment, I forgot the whole point of being here.

*

It turns out entering the Secret Chamber of Slytherin is quite easy. The wall where Merlin's tapestry hangs has a sculptured skirting board in the shape of a cluster of intertwined snakes.

Draco's sill looking at the plain wall, knocking on random stones, as my face splits open in a broad grin: I know what I have to do.

"Harry, love? Are you feeling okay?" Draco looks at my face with concern, letting go of the tapestry.

I hiss, "Hiiiiiyessshhhhaasssssssssaah", and the skirting board snakes slither away, unlocking a mechanism. I lift a corner of the tapestry, push the door open and step inside.

After a second, I lift the tapestry again, to find Draco staring agape. I grab his hand and pull him inside, then push the door closed.

We find ourselves in a high-ceilinged room. It's less cold and pompous than I expected. Behind the green screen to our left, I can see a huge bathtub: with luck, the room has its own lavatory. At our right, book-laden shelves surround a massive, wooden desk. The place is spotless, not a speck of dust in sight. The House Elfs must take care of the place even if it's deserted, because a roaring fire warms the room. Right in front of us, a huge four-poster bed with silvery silk sheets seems ready to receive us.

I drag Draco toward the bed and push him until he falls heavily on the soft mattress. He's still dumbfounded. I lie down beside him and plunder his mouth until he comes out of his daze.

"Are... are you still a Parselmouth, Harry?"

"Not really. It was Voldemort's magic, and it was destroyed with the Horcrux part of me, when I died. I just remember how to say some things."

"I mourn the loss."

"Why, do you like to hear me hissing?"

"Mmmh... maybe."

We begin stripping each other with eagerness, kissing every bit of flesh revealed. The discovery, both of his body and of this room, makes me bold.

"And what would you do, my Dragon, were I to ask you to open up, in Parseltongue?"

"This."

He opens arms and mouth and takes me in. We suck each other's lips for quite a lot of time.

"Do you think I could learn it?" He asks suddenly, mid-kiss.

"You could imitate the sounds, I suppose. Ron did."

"And what would happen, Saint Potter, were I to ask you to open up, in Parseltongue?"

"This."

We're both completely naked, by now. I roll on my back and spread my legs, my feet flat on the mattress. I can feel the weight of Draco's stare.

"Useful thing, this Parseltongue."

"You'll find out it's your tongue that does the trick, Parsel or not."

"Is it so?"

Draco crawls between my thighs; his eyes burn with a craving that's borderline starvation.

His mouth is on me, and I raise my hips to sheathe myself deeper in its warmth. When I'm dripping wet, Draco moves his head downward, his tongue never leaving my skin. His hands slide under my arse, raising it from the mattress. I can feel the hotness of his breath on my hole, and spare a moment in amazement that he's apparently going to kiss me there, then his lips connect with my flesh and my brain stops working altogether.

I spread my legs as wide as I can, opening myself to Draco's probing tongue. He shows no hesitation, swiping it up and down my crack in long, wet strokes, circling the tight rim of muscles in the same way he sometimes does with my lips. I whimper and squirm under his ministrations. It feels amazing. I need more. I need to feel him within. As if on cue, Draco's tongue plunges inside me, lapping at my inner walls. I shamelessly push back into his face to take more of it, deeper. I'm barely aware of Draco's nose nuzzling my balls, of one of his hands pumping my cock. My word revolves around Draco's tongue. My hole spasms around its sweet invasion in a sudden and intense orgasm. Draco goes on kissing my arse until my whole body goes limp, then he licks me clean. The sight of it alone makes my spent cock twitch. Draco places a small kiss on the sensitized tip, then climbs my body and tucks his face in my neck. I slowly reconnect to reality.

"Draco? Wasn't it disgusting?"

"Not at all... you taste delicious, love, and the way you squirmed and moaned..."

"Maybe it's a silly question..."

"Mmmh?"

"What do I taste like?"

"Like sex. Musky, tangy, with the barest hint of bitterness... Harry, you aren't worried that I didn't like it, are you?"

"Erm, yes?"

"Does this feel like I didn't enjoy what I was doing?"

He guides my hand on his still very hard cock.

"Harry, I could have come just from kissing you there..."

"Why didn't you?"

"I wanted your mouth on me."

I hasten to comply. He tastes like pure, undiluted heaven.

With reluctance and lingering kisses, I go back to my dorm just before the others return from theatre. My legs still shake.

*

Tuesday 26-02-2012

In our dream, I'm still able to speak Parseltongue as if it was my own skill. Draco behaves like a good snake, writhing and coiling as my hissing tongue traces his skin. I ask him to feel loved, to feel cherished, to feel pleasure. He does.

The Quidditch match against Hufflepuff is today.

I'd rather play against Draco -- play with him, be pressed against him. However, he'll be watching, and I quite like the idea of showing off my flying skills.

The match is going quite well, and I'm circling around the Pitch looking for the Snitch, enjoying myself and stealing glimpses of Draco's eyes fixed on me, as his mind clearly projects a disturbing image. I turn towards the row of seats, spotting his fair head immediately. He's actually surrounded by a flock of girls. As I look, one of them tries to kiss him. He turns his head, and she misses his mouth, at least. I really wish I could hex the girl. As I get ready to sweep close, hoping to scare them all away from him, a whistle signals that the game is over. Usually, the Hufflepuff Seeker is a bit slower than me, but this time I didn't even see the Snitch.

*

My House mates try not to show disappointment, but the loss stings. I'm furious with myself for getting distracted, and with those girls for making a pass at Draco. They knew we are together, yet one of them tried to kiss him...Draco only wants my kisses. Right? I suddenly need reassurance.

The useful thing about our bond is that Draco senses this, and quickly sends me the image of him hugging me, followed by coiling snakes... of our bodies coiled like snakes. I think he's using this as a code for the Secret Chamber of Slytherin.

While everyone is at dinner, I head to the Dungeons and sneak in. Draco is waiting for me, leaning casually against Merlin's tapestry. A hiss, and we're in.

"Lay down, love. Relax."

He strips me and straddles me as I'm lying on my belly. His hands start kneading my muscles, forcing them to relax. It's heavenly. After a while, something hot is poured on me.

"I Accioed your massage candle while I waited for you. Hope it's fine..."

"Good idea. We can as well keep the whole gift box here."

"You can bring it next time, if you want."

His hands never stop spreading the smooth, warm oil, caressing and massaging me until I'm utterly relaxed. His weight moves from my waist to my thighs, and his oh-so-skilful fingers start kneading my arse-cheeks and rubbing circles on my tailbone.

"Mmmh, Draco, this feels wonderful. Don't stop. Please, Draco, make love to me..."

"I'm not sure..."

"I am. Do I have to beg you? I will, if you want. Draco, my love, I must have you inside me, please..."

"Love, I'm sorry. I really think we'd better wait."

"I... Dray, I feel so empty. Fill me, please."

"If we do it now, you'll regret it..."

"I won't."

"You just say it because you're upset. Those girls don't matter, and you know it. I am yours, Potter, whether I bury myself inside your body now or not."

"It's not that. Really... I've wanted this for quite a long time now... Draco, don't you want me?"

"Are you daft, Potter? Harry, my love, of course I want you. I just don't think it's the right time..."

"And you won't change your mind?"

"Not today. I'm sorry, love..."

"If it is so, Draco, would you mind..."

His hands are still on me. I take his wrist and arch my back, sliding his hand in my crack and sending him the image on page 157 ofMay I use your wand?

Draco is a smart wizard, and his fingertip grazes on my hole at once, somewhat cold against my feverish flesh.

"Love, is this what you want?"

"Dray, please..."

"I'd love to plunge inside and take you, Harry. It's just, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me. I already do it to myself sometimes, and you know it. You dreamed of it, even. I'd rather have your hand than mine. Draco, I really, really need to feel you within. If I can't have your cock now, let it be your finger..."

"I've never done this before, to anyone..."

I push down a bit, relishing the sensation of his fingertip breaching me.

"You'll be perfect. You always are."

He is.

*

Wednesday 27-02-2013

In our dream, I'm playing Quidditch against Hufflepuffs. No Snitch in sight. I feel my unconscious has its own way to punish me for losing the game. I so don't need to relive this.

Draco's surrounded by girls. As soon as I notice, I dive towards him. The girls scatter. I lift Draco with an arm around his middle and lift him into air. He makes himself comfortable on my broom, pressing his hip snugly against my groin, encircling my neck with his arms. He claims my mouth in a very demanding kiss. I lift one hand from the broom-handle aiming to cradle his nape, and the Snitch falls on my palm.

Now, this is how it should have been.

*

"Hey guys, did you hear ?"

Ginny's almost bursting with excitement as she relates the latest gossip over the breakfast table: apparently, the girls who ambushed Draco at the Quidditch match have been cursed to repeat, "I'm a bitch who should keep her paws off other people's boyfriends," every time they open their mouths. The one who tried to kiss him had her mouth entirely removed.

She imparts us this news with so much relish I'm worried.

"Ginny, please tell me it wasn't you who hexed them."

"Of course not! I would not have been so lenient..."

I turn around, looking for someone who'd want to defend Draco and me... someone with the skill to do it. "Hermione?"

"Are you joking?" She sounds utterly scandalised. "Maybe the one trying to kiss him deserved a slap, but certainly not such a hex."

I do not ask Ron; I'm sure he's not involved. Unlike the twins, he's never been particularly skilled at hexing people.

This leaves me with one main suspect. "Draco, you didn't..."

"Potter! Should I punish everyone who shows interest in me? Besides, someone preceded me..."

At this point, Luna's voice pipes in, more focused than usual. "The Nargles told me everything. Those girls were amongst the nosiest when you two started dating, and they told it to everybody. Yet, yesterday they were hitting on Draco... It is simply not done."

"You're right, pet." Neville strokes her hair. "So didyouhex them?"

"No, Nev. I'd never do such a thing. The Nargles did."

I honestly don't know how Luna can still surprise me.

*

Monday 04-03-2013

In our dream, I sit on Draco's lap, I sit on Draco's face, I sit on Draco's hand. In our dream, I have Draco inside me, I feel him stretching me, opening me. In our dream, I give Draco everything, and he holds everything I am in his hands, carefully, tightly. Draco owns me. In our dream, and out of it.

It seems Madam Pomfrey has found a cure for the hexed girls, but it took her long enough. I doubt they'll dare approaching Draco again.

During lessons, I zone out, thinking about what happened during the match.

It is childish of me, and I above all should know what it means to be attracted to Draco, but I'm secretly glad that a blonde RavenclawNargleput them in their place. Draco never showed any interested in them, but still... He feels the wave of unreasonable jealousy coming from me, and soothes me with a flood of love and affection.

He's working with apparent concentration, his head bent on his Transfiguration essay, but as I turn toward him, I can see him hiding a smile. Soon after, a paper crane lands on my desk.

"Potter, my love, don't get your knickers in a twist for nothing. I'm not thinking about you in lacy knickers at all, by the way. I'm thinking about you, naked and quivering underneath me. Meet me tonight? Love, D."

I blow him a kiss, nodding.

Professor McGonagall docks me ten points for giving suggestions during the essay writing.

Since I had Draco's finger moving within me for the first time, I've been thinking about getting back in our Secret Room and repeating the whole experience. The sad truth is, I can't sneak in unnoticed anytime I want. If Slytherin students are lounging in the common room, and they usually are, we can't lift the tapestry and get in. The best time is during dinner, when everybody is in the Great Hall, but we can't miss out every meal and risk having our absence noticed by the teachers. The idea of meeting tonight makes my whole body sing.

After a quick shower, during which I try not to imagine Draco's hands soaping me, I get ready for our date. I need to bring the Map and the Cloak with me for getting back to my dorm safely, and I may as well keep my naughty informative books there. Oh, and theRide Me Gift Set.

As soon as we're together and naked, Draco puts the gift set to good use, coating our cocks liberally with the honey-scented lube. I should send George a thank-you note.

I'm pinned on the bed by Draco's sweet weight, our erections rubbing together in the most delicious way. The scent of our nakedness mingles with the honey, making an intoxicating mixture. Draco's skin is so smooth, he is so hard... I raise my hips to meet his downward push, wrapping my legs around his waist and accidentally dislodging Draco's cock. With the next undulation of hips, it slides behind, rubbing deliciously against my crack instead. My heels hammer Draco's arse as he pauses for a while, his hard flesh pressed firmly against the sensitized skin behind my ball-sack, then he resumes his pace.

"Need you... inside... Dray..."

His weight shifts to the side as one of his hands slides downward, caressing my erection. While I'm still able to coordinate movements, I take hold of his cock, fondling and palming it with relish. Draco's hand finally touches my hole, circling it lightly. My groin is flooded with warmth as his body shudders; his come dribbles down, soaking his hand. His dripping forefinger enters me. The idea that he's smearing his semen inside me is so impossibly arousing, and his finger moves in the most delectable way: too soon, I add my juices to his.

We lay, sticky and sated, with Draco sprawled half on top of me.

"Harry... Do you happen by chance to have any Skele-Gro at hand?"

"What? No. Why?"

"You just managed to Evanesco my bones. I'm a puddle, now. Utterly shapeless."

I place my palms on his round buttocks and squeeze.

"You seem solid enough to me... love your shape... Let me rest a bit, and then I'll help you get your bone back just fine. Your bones, I mean."

"Indeed."

Rising from the bed and his embrace to go back to my dorm room is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. I have a feeling this is only true because I'm so utterly spent, or the hardest thing would be found between my legs. I guess Draco's dry humour is rubbing off on me. Luckily, not just his sense of humour is, and other things aren't dry at all. I can almost taste his laughter at my musings. I really need some sleep.

*

Thursday 07-03-2013

In our dream, we're facing Dementors. Draco tries and tries to conjure a Patronus, but only puffs of white smoke come out of his wand. The smoke curls in odd shapes, snakes and ferrets and white peacocks. I cast the same spell, and a huge silver dragon appears. Under his wings, we are safe.

Today's D.A.D.A. lesson will focus on the Incanto Patronus, and I know Draco is worried about it.

"Just relax, Draco, you'll do fine."

"Let's say you've given me enough happy memories that I'll be able to cast it... what if it has a ferret's shape after all? I'd be mocked to death!"

"It will have an amazing shape, Draco. You'll see. And I find ferrets are pretty cute anyway."

He punches me lightly and kisses me deeply, so everything is fine.

*

After Herbology, I hurry to the D.A.D.A. classroom, as Andromeda thinks my experience in leading Dumbledore's Army will help all students cast a proper Patronus. She's under the impression that my fellow students will be less intimidated if I am the one showing them how it's done... maybe she's right.

After a quick explanation, I cast the spell, and my stag appears, leaping and springing around the room. For a moment, I'm almost disappointed it's not the dragon I cast in the dream, then I'm grateful that something from my father is still with me.

When it's Draco's turn, I send him a reassuring glance and the idea of the taste of his lips.

He does well, and, at the second try, he's able to conjure a fully corporeal Patronus. To general astonishment, it's a lion. The giant, silvery beast pads towards me in circles, then it rubs against my legs and starts purring. I quell the urge to pet his mane.

Draco stares at it in amazement, then a big grin lightens his whole face.

I can see the flash of surprise crossing Andromeda's features, and the smile she hides.

After the lesson, Draco is still dazed.

"Did you see it, Harry? My Patronus? "

"It was impressive, Draco."

"It's the first time I succeeded in casting that spell. Last year I wasn't able to conjure one, no matter how hard I tried."

"Really? What was your happy thought?"

"Our first kiss..."

He looks so cute, I just have to give him the latest one.

"I must admit I'm relieved it was a lion and not a ferret or something silly like a dragonfly. But isn't it a bit Gryffindorish? Why is it a lion?"

"It is a lion, Draco, because you love me."

He tries to glare at me, but fails.

"Yeah, I do."

"Love you, too."

*

Saturday 9-03-2013

In our dream, we're sprawled together in a meadow, our half-naked bodies crushing the high leaves. It's raining hard. Thunders roar and lightings sparkle on our skin. The sky is a distant thing, though. As the rain pours on our locked bodies, we kiss and kiss and kiss, until our kisses make the sun rise.

The morning is crisp and clear.

"Seems our dreams are not a good source of meteorological forecasting, eh, Potter?"

"We did foresee showers of kisses, though."

"That we did. I'd hate for us to have been entirely wrong. Come here, love."

It's only when we realize Ginny's catcalling that we resurface.

Since the sun is shining, Professor Hooch suggests a Quidditch inter-House match, just for the fun of it. Not surprisingly, Draco and I end up being the Seekers of opposite teams.

We utterly enjoy flying together, hovering close one to each other, almost knee to knee, as we lazily look for the Snitch.

After more than an hour, we spot it at the same time and dive, our shoulders bumping. From the outside, I'm sure it looks like our old rivalry. I know it's a new kind of game as Draco sends me naughty images of his body in an attempt to make me lose concentration. I wiggle my arse at him in retaliation, distracting him enough that I'm able to catch the Snitch in the split second before his hand closes around mine.

My team cheers, and I have to suppress the need to kiss Draco soundly on his startled mouth.

A heated glance from him is enough to decide we'll not linger in the communal shower rooms. While every other player heads to the changing rooms, we sneak to our secret place.

As we take our sweaty clothes off, Draco fills the tub. After flying in the cold air, dipping in the warm water is really soothing. I relax completely, cradled in Draco's arms, my back against his chest and my head lolling on his shoulders. Then he starts soaping my torso with careful hands and lingering touches, aiming downwards until his skilled fingers wrap around my straining erection, and the whole bathing-together thing is suddenly not relaxing anymore. I can feel his hardness pressed against the small of my back. He soaps my bits carefully, and then asks me to turn. I clumsily comply, and he spreads the soft foam on my back and arse. His touch lingers in a way that Incendio's my insides.

"Stand up, now, love. We need to rinse."

Water cascades down his body as he stands; he's a sight to behold, and I stare at him until he tugs my arm. He hugs me and takes hold of the showerhead, laughing.

As he towels me dry, I follow the droplets of water sliding on his skin with my eyes, envying them a bit. Then I follow them with my tongue. Draco's not laughing anymore.

As he dries his hair, I bounce on the mattress, laying spread-eagled on my back, staining the silk blankets with my still damp hair and not caring at all. Draco's eyes run appreciatively over my frame, and he swallows audibly.

I raise my legs and spread them wider, letting him see my most private place.

"Draco, need you here. Right now."

"Not yet, love."

"Why not? I want you. Judging bythis," I say, stroking his rock-hard erection, "you want me just as much. It is the perfect moment. Why not now? Unlike last time, I'm not upset about girls swooning on you, nor about losing some game."

"That's because you won, Potter. By cheating."

"You cheated first!"

"Sending you all my love isn't cheating..."

"It wasn't your love, it was your cock's image."

"Same thing."

"Ditto. Give it here, then. I really want you to make love to me."

"Why do you always want to make love after playing Quidditch? Does riding a broom arouse you this badly?"

"Only the idea of ridingyourbroom, Dray. Won't you make my fly?"

"I'd love to, believe me. I'm even suffering your silly jokes... Every time I see you like this... you know I dream of it as much as you do... In our dreams, it's the easiest thing. But real life is different. I don't want to hurt you. And itwillhurt. It's written everywhere, in the books Granger gave you, even in your Godfather's silly notebook: penetration will hurt."

"I read the same books. It won't hurt if done with proper preparation and lubrication. We have lube, you have hands: we can manage both."

"Harry..."

"Come here. We'll take it slow. Stretch me a bit, add some fingers... at least try. I'll tell you if it's too much."

"Will you?"

"Promise. We're bonded, Draco. If I'm in pain, you'll feel it."

Though still looking somewhat reluctant, Draco complies with my desires. I roll on the bed, to lie on my belly over a pillow, my arse raised and ready for him. He kneels between my legs, and unexpected kisses follow. The first touch of his tongue makes me jump, then I relax and allow him to lick and nibble and taste, amazed and thankful that he enjoys doing this to me.

When his forefinger replaces his tongue, I moan in relief at having something hard fill me.

When he adds a second finger, I clench down so hard, he yelps.

"Dray, don't you dare pull out..."

He doesn't, and after a while, the pumping and the scissoring of his fingers grows into white fire. My hips and my breath rise and fall at an impossible pace, meeting his thrusts. I need more of him. His fingertips graze something amazing inside, electrifying my nerves. Draco repeats the movement and I swear I see stars.

"More...right there... Draco..."

When the third finger is added, a stab of pain sears me, and Draco quickly withdraws. I relax and bemoan the loss at once.

"Sorry, love. Too much?"

I whimper, and he understands what I mean. Carefully, he eases two fingers back inside me, and I'm relieved that having them back only gives me pleasure.

"Better, love?"

I raise my hips to meet Draco's hand to let him know that yes, it is way better. He takes advantage of my movement to wrap his other hand around my cock. I don't need anything else, and the stars I've never stopped seeing since he stroked that amazing place deep inside me burst into supernovas.

Draco lies down, covering my limp and shuddering body with his.

A distant part of my mind lets me know I'm not feeling his hardness pressing on my back. I'm gathering my wits to ask him if he found what we just did so boring that his bits were uninterested, when he whispers in my ear.

"Harry, love, do you have the slightest idea of how your insides feel? You're pure silk, burning silk, so hot and tight, and your muscles ripple just so... You look so gorgeous, stretched open around my fingers... I'm sorry if the third one hurt you. It's maddening how much I want to be inside you. I can't do it, but for a moment I almost... the idea alone was enough, and then you gripped my fingers..."

"Dray?"

"Yes?"

"You're babbling. Let me sleep..."

His kiss on my neck manages to convey both fondness and annoyance.

*

Sunday 10-03-2013

I wake from a dreamless sleep to find Draco's body still blanketing me.

A quick Tempus lets me know it's only three o'clock in the morning. I know I should get up and go to my room, but I doubt I could move without dislodging Draco and waking him up. I doubt I could move, period. Furthermore, I don't really want to move. I'll leave in the morning: the common room will be empty at some time, and the Map will let me know when. Or I could just spend the day ensconced here with Draco. This is a wonderful idea.

With a blissful sigh, I settle under Draco's weight and get back to sleep.

*

Thursday 14-03-2013

In our dream, we send each other love letters across the classroom. Draco folds his into paper cranes as usual; I'm less skilled and can only make planes and boats. Our messages crowd the room, making concentrating on the lessons impossible for everyone. To avoid it, all the teachers allow us to sit together. We hold hands underneath the desk, and steal small kisses when they're turned away.

Seems we both have an inner Hufflepuff after all. Somehow, I'd rather have Slytherin inside me, though. A certain blond Slytherin...

Even while trying to follow Professor Flitwick's lesson, I can sense that Draco is upset. No paper crane lands on my desk with explanations, so I open my mind towards him, and he sends me images of cuddling together to calm me down. Nothing is terribly wrong, then, and I must simply wait for lunchtime: he will tell me face to face.

After the morning lessons, knowing he won't want to tell me his news in front of the whole Gryffindor table, I secure us some food with a short detour to the Kitchens, I and head towards the door of the Great Hall to wait for him.

As he arrives, Draco hugs me briefly and pecks my lips. This alone lets me know he's more worried than he wants to let on.

"The Headmistress had an Owl from my parents today."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, really. They requested my presence at the Manor this weekend."

"Is that a bad thing? I mean... I'll miss you. But just the other day you complained about not seeing them since December. I know you miss them."

"I only said that Father had always had a finer taste, and Mother would have been brilliant as fashion designer. Didn't you see what your Weasel was wearing?"

"As if I don't know how to read in-between the lines of what you say aloud. And yes, that shade of orange makes me shudder."

"See? We're soulmates. However, before I get more Hufflepuffish..."

To make it short, he thinks his parents found a buyer for the Manor.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to live there and be happy, not after everything that happened there. But it's always my home, you know, and having it sold to strangers..."

*

Draco will leave in the early evening: Professor McGonagall will allow him to use the fireplace in her office to Floo straight to the Manor.

As Draco has been excused from the afternoon lessons, I decide to skip Transfiguration as well, asking Ron to cover up for me. Since we got together, we've never been apart for more than a few hours, and I know it will be a long weekend without him. Spending the afternoon in our Secret Chamber and not in a classroom sounds very appealing.

In the candlelight, Draco's pale skin almost shines like the silk linens he's sprawled on.

I absolutely love having him like this, open and unguarded. I kiss every single square inch of his body. When I'm done, he's shuddering, gleaming with my saliva, and there's not a piece of him I didn't taste. I straddle him, pushing our cocks together and taking them both in my hand; Draco joins his own hand, intertwining our fingers. He smiles his sweetest, most wicked smile. His other hand settles on my cheek, and his tongue plunges into my mouth. I welcome it and trace my thumb on the head of his cock. Our kiss deepens, if possible, our tongues dancing together at the same slow rhythm of our hands. We both want this to last.

"Draco, I want... I need..."

"I know, love. I... yes! Like this..."

Draco's blessed fingers slide inside my mouth, come out properly wet, and finally, finally, one of them slides inside my opening, where I truly need it. To be honest, I'd love to have Draco put something else inside me there, but he still insists we must wait. After a few strokes, another finger is added.

I push down on Draco's hand and start convulsing almost immediately. I collapse on his chest, while he carefully pulls his fingers out. He grips my arse with both hands and pushes hard against my groin. As his breathing seems to stop altogether, I feel the warm flood of his semen spilling under my belly.

We lay like this, glued by the juices of our pleasure, for what seems like a long time.

After a quick cleaning spell, it's time to put our clothes back on. The loss of Draco's skin is almost unbearable.

*

Saturday, 16-03-2013

I miss Draco.

I hope his meeting with his parents went well. He didn't send me any sign of distress through our bond, so maybe he's happy with the buyer of the Manor.

I understand him, really. I don't think I'd like to live in Grimmauld Place, but I like owning the building, and I doubt Grimmauld Place means as much to me as the Manor means to Draco.

I toss and turn in my bed, and I'm only able to relax when Draco sends me images of him lying naked in a small bed. I know he's in his childhood room. The furniture is pale green, and there are dragons painted on every wall. The dragons look at him, unsure about what to do with a grown-up boy. When Draco slowly starts stroking his hardening cock, all the dragons huddle in the darkest corner of the room, putting their paws on their eyes.

I know Draco is thinking about my hand. With his tantalizing image etched in my mind, I sneak my hand inside my pants and only think of his hand. I know he can sense the moment my muscles clench down in sweet release.

All is white, and I can sleep.

I love being bonded to Draco.

*

Sunday, 17-03-2013

It's already half past nine, and Draco's still not here.

I'm waiting for him in a niche near Professor McGonagall's office, since he'll arrive by Floo; I've been here, hidden under my Cloak for good measure, since immediately after dinner. It's been hours already.

After my attempt at studying fails, I doze off for a while: the sound of steps coming closer brings me to attention.

I check the Marauder's Map quickly: Draco is back.

He comes straight for the niche: I barely have time to take off the Cloak when I'm engulfed in his arms. A deep, lingering kiss follows.

I can feel him relaxing into our embrace, getting ready to disclose what happened.

"It's like we imagined. My parents are giving the Manor away. They're not selling it, though. Father thinks the public image of Malfoys has been tarnished lately -- he's right, by the way -- so they are giving the Manor to the Minister for Magic, for free."

"I see his point. A donation will make him appear less of an egotistical prat."

"Potter, love, it's my father you're talking about."

I decide to ignore his glare. "Anyway, what use will Kingsley Shaklebolt have for the Manor?"

"He'll open a Pre-Hogwarts School for the Understanding of Muggles."

"That's actually a smart idea. Promote understanding... Shacklebolt is a fine politician, isn't he?"

"It was Mother who had the idea. She put it as a clause in the donation deed."

"I've always thought she's the smartest of all Malfoys. Wait, wasn't she born a Black?"

"You're dead, Potter."

This holds true only if he can kill me with kisses. Maybe he can.

"So they're giving the Manor to the Ministry. Where will they live?"

"This is the bad news. They're moving to France. We've got some relatives there."

"What about the good news?"

"They made me spill everything about you. I felt like I was five again and confessing breaking some house rule."

"How is itgood?"

"Mother said she's happy I managed to catch you, that I could not have found a better man. You know she thinks it."

"As I said, I always liked your mother."

"Always?"

"Since she lied to Voldemort for me. That's about the same. What about your father?"

"He said he's proud of me and of my choices."

"I never thought I'd see the day when Lucius Malfoy would approve of his precious only heir shagging the Sav..."

"We're not shagging."

"Yet. Well then, of his precious heir being in love with the Sav..."

I'm silenced quite forcefully by Draco's exploring tongue.

"This is all. They approve of our relationship and are moving to France."

I can sense something's amiss in his voice.

"Are you worried they won't like it in France, or are you just sad they're going away?"

"I know their decision is for the best. Father has an uncle near Paris. It's just... I've always been very close to Mother, and I'll miss her. I'll miss our piano lessons and her good taste in decorating, and..."

"France is not that far away, Draco. With planes, you can be there in a few hours. I don't know if you'll be able to Apparate there, but Flooing or taking a Portkey is fast enough. It's not like you'll never see them again..."

"Please do not explain what a plane is. You're probably right anyway. It's a good decision for them. I am just being selfish, am I not?"

"You are entitled to be, sometimes. Now, allow me to take your mind off things that make you sad."

I fall on my knees and lift his sweater, breathing into the soft skin of his abdomen, teasing his bellybutton with a flick of tongue before trailing my breath on the outline of his awakening hardness, mouthing him through the cloth.

"I liked you better when you were an innocent..."

"Like hell you did."

I unzip him quickly.

"I beg to differ. You should have noticed that I highly favoured..."

I fill my mouth with his salty-sweet, hot, hard flesh -- my favourite lollypop.

"Salazar! Please... again... more... love you..."

Divesting Draco of his eloquence is even more rewarding than divesting him of clothes.

As I swallow the proof of his climax, Draco's knees buckle, and he crumbles gracefully onto the floor, encircling me with arms that tremble slightly. We share slow, open-mouthed kisses, our tongues sliding together lazily, and we've entirely lost the when-and-where until a mewing sound startles us.

"Well, well, Mrs Norris, what do we have here? Students out of bed after curfew, engaged in lewd behaviour. Boys! I'd deem appropriate to flog you senseless for this display, but the Headmistress is too soft. You'd be suspended, I think. Maybe even expelled. Get up, you two! To Professor McGonagall we go, right this minute. She won't be pleased with you two for waking her up in the middle of her sleep, oh no, Mrs. Norris, she won't be pleased at all."

As we follow Mr. Filch towards the Headmistress' private rooms, I mentally kick myself for not waiting for Draco near the Slytherin Dungeons or in our Secret Chamber, for not going there straight away. I did not even think of it. Merlin, he really makes me forget about the world!

"Headmistress, I caught Potter and Malfoy, out of bed. They were in a corridor, with their hands all over each other. Will you expel them?"

"Of course not, Mr. Filch. I'll dock one hundred points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin, though, for fighting and disregarding the curfew. Potter, Malfoy. I am very disappointed with you. Needing to be disciplined at this ungodly hour... I expected better from you. You are Eighth Years! I thought you were making an effort to get along!"

Mr. Filch hastily corrects her. "No, Headmistress, you misunderstood. They weren't fighting. They were engaged in... lewd activities."

Professor McGonagall looks suddenly and oddly relieved.

"Was it so? Ten points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin, then, for inappropriate behaviour. But I must admit that I'd rather have those two particular students kissing each other instead of fighting. Fifty points to both Gryffindor and Slytherin for promoting inter-House unity."

A strangled sound of surprise comes from Draco, and after a questioning look, I follow his gaze to Dumbledore's portrait. I can see the old wizard's eyes sparkling with mirth for a moment; as I blink, he leaves the frame. Wisely, Draco keeps his mouth closed, and so do I.

Filch sounds outraged. "But Headmistress! How do you know they were kissing?"

"I suspected."

"And you didn't do anything. I beg your pardon, Headmistress, but this is not natural! Lucius' boy and Potter, together? It must be some spell, some dark magic. I heard rumours, you know, from Hufflepuff girls, that they were forced, that they can read each other's mind. The silly girls find it romantic..."

"That's enough, Mr. Filch. I'll deal with the matter. You are dismissed."

As Mr. Filch slams the door shut, still muttering with Mrs Norris, I sag on Draco's shoulder in relief: the caretaker gives me the creeps.

"Potter, your budding relationship with Malfoy did not escape my notice. However, I hoped it was a natural evolution of the strong feelings you've always manifested towards each other."

Draco pokes me with his elbow, and we stare at each other, disconcerted that everybody read hidden attraction in our past behaviour.

"What Mr. Filch said, though, is worrying. Forced relationships never work out, and you two happen to share a magical bond we know precious little about. What if your hatred for each other was real, and you are now under the effect of the spell?"

"Professor, it's true that we never got on before, but as you said..."

Draco interrupts me, his features set. "I love Potter. I do. You may imagine how hard it is for me to admit it out loud to you."

McGonagall smiles wearily. "I do not doubt the way you feel. But those feelings may be bond-induced, not real. It's not wise to trust feelings that only flourished after a bonding spell."

I interrupt her. "As Draco said, Professor, these feelings... I've felt like this about him since long before we did the spell, only I didn't admit it to myself. Our love is for real."

She does not look entirely persuaded. "Even if it's true and your feelings are genuine, what about the mind-reading issue?"

"Nothing worrying," I hasten to answer, in what I hope is a reassuring way. "It's not proper mind-reading at all. We can simply send images to each other. We can't send words or talk into each other's mind, Professor. We can only share images and, erm, emotions..."

"This sounds ominously like the connection you had with Voldemort's mind." She doesn't sound reassured in the slightest. "It is very alarming. It might even be dangerous. What about your sanity? Why didn't you report this straight away?

"Exactly to avoid your exaggerate reaction, Minerva, I'm sure."

Professor Snape's voice drawling from a previously empty frame makes me flinch in reflex. Draco hides a smile as Professor McGonagall straightens her already straight back and gazes at the portrait sternly.

"Nice of you to make an appearance, Severus. I've wanted your opinion about this since December."

With this, she digs the letter my mystery donor sent me from the depths of a drawer, and reads it aloud to Professor Snape. He keeps his face impassive throughout the reading.

"I can assure you the spell has been crafted by a proficient wizard and entails no danger whatsoever. The bond does not create emotions. The kind of relationship Potter wants to pursue with my former pupil is none of my interests at the moment. Whatever their feelings, I fear they are quite authentic."

Professor McGonagall is still unconvinced. "But what about using the bond to share images? Last time we heard of such a thing, Mr. Potter was being used by Voldemort..."

"Were Potter more apt at Occlumency, none of that would have happened. If they do not wish to share their emotions, I strongly suggest they shield their minds. I can almost taste their hormones from here. Potter was never brilliant at restraining himself, was he?"

Despite the hidden insults, I'm grateful for his words, and wish she would believe him.

Apparently, she wants to. "Are you sure, Severus? Are they safe?"

"Always."

Cape billowing, he disappears from his frame again.

After this rather dramatic exit, Professor McGonagall dismisses us.

"It's settled then. Malfoy, I hope the meeting with your parents went well. Try not to be caught out of bed again. Have a pleasant night."

This is the moment we decide we'll spend every night together in our Secret Chamber, consequences be damned.

*

Monday, 18-03-2013

Waking up entangled in Draco's arms is wonderful. Sneaking out of our Secret Room and out of the Slytherin Dungeons in time for Transfiguration is less so.

If we really plan to use that room instead of the dorms like we promised each other last night, we must find a way to get in and out easily.

After lessons, I spend a lot of time checking the Marauder's Map for secret passages and back corridors, to no avail. I even try to read bits ofHogwarts: A History, looking for old blueprints and descriptions. I'm still engrossed in my research when a kiss is placed on the top of my head.

"Harry, love, you don't need to pour over that old piece of parchment."

"Did you change your mind, then, about spending the nights together?"

"Not at all."

"Then what are you planning to do? Going on sneaking under Merlin's tapestry will get us caught sooner or later!"

"I happen to have a plan, Potter."

"Do you? Pray tell."

"In your opinion, that Room of Requirement of yours will change into an antechamber to Salazar's old room, if asked? And will it stay that way until we are ready to leave?"

"What? Draco, you're a genius! I think it may work... As long as we don't exit the Room of Requirement, it will stay like we asked."

"Problem solved, then. We'll enter our chamber through the Room of Requirement. The seventh floor corridor is seldom crowded after all."

"It's brilliant.You're brilliant. But what if someone else tries to use the Room while it's our corridor?"

"What does usually happen if the Room is in use by someone and you want to use it as well?"

"Don't you remember about the time we came upon Ginny and Blaise?"

"I wish I could Obliviate that memory... But in that sad occasion we were looking for the same thing they were, namely, a bed. I doubt other students would ask for a passage to our room."

"Then I guess the Room would stay closed and nobody else would be able to use it."

"You have your answer. Does the idea of hoarding the Room for ourselves bother you and your Gryffindorishness?"

"Less than you may expect. Oh, Draco, you just had the best idea ever! I could kiss you!"

"By all means, please do."

*

Thursday 21-03-2012

I wake up in the middle of the night, when the dream of Draco spooning me becomes so intense, I can actually feel the hardness of his cock trapped between my arse-cheeks. Waking up does not change the feeling. I'm still drowsy, and my brain lacks blood, and it takes me a while to figure out it's because Dracoisspooning me, and his hard cockistrapped between my arse-cheeks.

I push against him tentatively. Draco moans in his sleep, and the hand cupping my cock tightens in reflex, but he does not wake up. The almond oil we used last evening is still slick on Draco's groin, and the slow slide of his hardness against my crack feels more than nice. I move again, arching my back, and that is when I feel it: the tip of Draco's cock presses fully against my hole for the first time. I eagerly repeat the movement, loving how hot and smooth this feels compared to his fingers. I'd die to take him in, but I want him to be awake and willing for our first time making love, and he's still oddly convinced we should wait. Therefore, I content myself with rubbing against him and pushing down just enough to feel the pressure build up. I come and drift back to sleep at the same time.

*

The alarm startles us both. Draco stretches himself lazily, his lean body a vision to behold.

"Morning, love. I had the strangest little dream... it wasn't visual, it was more of a tactile dream. There was warmth and you were... you weren't sleeping at all, were you?"

"Guilty. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you up... not all of you, anyway."

He tosses a pillow at me, and we hastily get ready for breakfast.

We've just set foot outside the Room of Requirements -- Draco's idea to use it as a corridor has worked perfectly so far -- when a screech pierces my left ear and a hand closes on it, twisting painfully. I yelp.

"Harry! Iknewit was you two... How dare you? Three nights in a row?"

Draco jumps to my rescue. "Stop maiming the Saviour, Weaslette!"

"Ginny, please!" She lets go of my ear and I look at her reproachfully. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the Room of Requirements being unavailable, no matter the request. A bed, a bathtub, someplace to make love in, a room where we can be alone, a Muggle Hotel, a Victorian brothel, a replica of the Manor... we tried every possible request, to no avail."

"Ginny, we..."

"Do not bother denying it! Blaise said Draco hasn't slept in his bed once since he came back, and Ron told me you've haven't been in the dorms either... What's up? Where are you going?"

Draco tugs my hand. "Harry, don't..."

"Come on, Draco," I address him softly. "She'll nag me until I spill, so I might as well tell her right away and spare me the annoyance."

Ginny grins victoriously. "You're getting wiser, Harry. Tell me..."

I do, reluctantly.

"Cool! Trust Harry to find all the impossible, legendary, lost rooms in the Castle..."

"Ginny, you can't talk about it to anyone..." I hasten to add. "Well, maybe Hermione and Ron..."

"And Blaise. You know, we're getting along just fine. I won't tell anyone else, if..."

Draco looks down his nose at her. "Weaslette, are you blackmailing us?"

"I'm negotiating, Malfoy. You must be familiar with the word. It's not nice that you keep the Room all to yourselves..."

"Gin, I..."

"I mean the Room of Requirement!" she interrupts me. "So when you ask for your corridor, ask also for a small bedroom accessible from that corridor, and your secret will be safe."

"Otherwise?" Draco drags the word out.

I prod him gently with my shoulder. "You don't want to go there, Draco, believe me."

"Trust your boyfriend, Malfoy. The Headmistress won't like the Room of Requirement being used like that, not to mention the important historical discovery you're not divulging... Hermione will have your hides..."

"We have an agreement, then." Draco relents.

"See, Harry," Ginny says, magnanimous in her triumph. "Malfoy's not that hard to handle."

"I can assure you, Weaslette, that when Harry's the one handling me, I'm more than hard enough."

*

Friday 22-03-2013

The best way to wake up in the morning is with Draco's naked skin on my skin, with Draco's morning wood pressed against me, with Draco's skilled mouth sucking me. The best way to wake up in the morning is with Draco, period.

Our sleeping arrangement suits us greatly, and nobody complained. I guess Ginny kept her word, then. Only Ron's face getting redder than usual at our arrival at the breakfast table lets me know he shares the knowledge.

"Hey, mate, you all right?"

"Just dandy, Ron. I'm very happy with my new comforter, thank you."

Draco turns a beautiful shade of pale pink, and Ron splutters. Hermione sighs.

"Never heard of behaving like adults, you two?"

Ginny chooses this moment to drop her bomb. "It's been exactly three months after you performed the spell... How's your bondage thing going, boys?"

I almost choke on my Pumpkin Juice, while Draco smirks, his confidence back in place.

"The Weaslette is nosy, isn't she? Perhaps she thinks I use our school ties to bind you to the bed and have my wicked way with you..."

"Do go on, Malfoy," Ginny encourages. "I meant the being bonded thing, but if you're in the sharing mood..."

"Ginevra, please!" Scolds Hermione. "You meant exactly what you said. I don't think..."

"Come on, Hermione! Let me have my fun. Although I must say that riling those two up is way too easy."

Draco smirks. "Since you painted such a vivid image in my mind, Weaslette, I must admit that I quite like it."

"I didn't put in your mind anything that wasn't there already, Malfoy," Ginny remarks.

"Yeah, shouldn't it be Harry's job to put things in the Ferret's mind?" Ron never knows when to shut up.

"Whereas Malfoy's job is what?" Ginny retorts in dry tones. "Ronnikins, you don't want to go there."

"I do not want anybody else going there," I try to interrupt the embarrassing conversation. "Why are you discussing my love life anyway?"

"That is because it is interesting, Potter, my love."

"But... but... Draco, would you really tie me up with our school ties?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

His smirk is back in full force, and his eyes are unreadable mirrors: I really don't know if he's serious.

*

Saturday 23-03-2013

In our dream, I'm chained to the bedposts, spread-eagled and open. I know I am Prometheus. Draco is the eagle sent to eat me alive. His face holds a predatory smile as he bends down over my middle-section, open-mouthed. It's not my liver he feasts on. This will not stop me from playing with fire, either.

Draco as a bird of prey... I wake up feeling like a bunny, my heart pounding, ensnared in his claws as he swallows me. Can bunnies get as aroused as I am?

At breakfast, Hermione is discussing Muggle mythology with Draco. Apparently, she lent him a book, and that is where our shared dream came from.

"I'm not sure, Granger, if it was a fitting punishment. Potter, my love, don't you find it fascinating, the story of the man who stole a candle from the Gods and was eaten alive? Playing with fire is dangerous..."

I blush and whisper into his ear.

"I'll give you playing with fire, Draco!"

Mythology can be a double-edged weapon. I have an idea.

*

After dinner I excuse myself from company, leaving Draco to his almost usual game of chess with Ron, and go to our room to arrange everything for my set-Draco-on-fire plan.

As he enters the room about an hour later, he finds me laying on the bed, shoulders and knees pressed into the mattress, my left wrist and ankle bound together with my Gryffindor tie, the right ones bound in the same way with one of Draco's ties -- it needed quite a bit of coordination and, in the end, a wandless spell. My arse is up in the air, readied by careful finger-work and almost dripping with lube.

Draco's breath is somewhat erratic, and I glance over my shoulder to see utter surprise on his face.

"Harry, love, what are you doing?"

"I was waiting for you. I stole your fire. Come take it back. Take me. Set me aflame."

"What? Are you sure you feel fine? You sound confused..."

His cool hand presses on my forehead. This is not going as I planned.

"I'm perfectly fine! Or I will be, as soon as I'll have you inside me."

"So is this show meant as an offer?"

"You got it in one."

"Are you daft, Potter? What were you thinking? Oh, please! I can't talk to your arse! Relashio!"

The ties come loose, and I reluctantly sit up to face him. He hurries to hug me.

"Love, don't be upset. You don't need to display yourself like this..."

"Yes, I do! Draco, I want you. I love you. I want to make love with you. Why are you rejecting me?"

"I'm scared, okay? It will hurt you! I've never done it before..."

"And I'm grateful for it. But you don't need to worry about hurting me... Draco, I'm learning how to relax my muscles. I've had your hand. I can take your cock. I know I can. I don't understand why you don't want to at least try..."

"It's not like that, Harry. It's... I heard V-Voldemort bragging about doing it to Bellatrix, more than once... they were a sick pair, the both of them. Hurting her appealed to him, and I guess she liked pain, but... it was revolting... the way he humiliated her, how she always came back for more... I don't want to think how..."

"Draco, I... I'm sorry..."

"Shush, love, I'm fine now. It's just... I really want you, I can dream of taking you and it is wonderful, but the idea of doing it for real scares me. What if I hurt you? What if I like to be inside you so much that I won't care if it hurts you? I don't want to be like him, but what if shame and guilt are not enough to prevent me from taking my pleasure? You'll be disgusted, rightly so, and you'll reject me, and I don't want to lose you..."

"I'll never reject you, Draco. You're not like that. You are already caring, don't you realize? If it will hurt a bit, so be it. I'll bear the pain. It's not the same thing. Draco, you can't compare Voldemort tormenting your Aunt to us making love. I understand your worry, but it's ungrounded. I'm more than willing. I trust you. I trust you to thrust into me. I need you inside me, Draco, I need to feel your cock filling me with your love."

He makes a strangled noise.

"I need it as well. I need to make you feel how much I love you. I'm just not ready yet."

"Dray?"

"Mmmh?"

"I really hope you'll be ready soon."

"Yeah, me too..."

*

Thursday 28-03-2012

Draco will leave tomorrow in the morning: he's taking a Portkey to France, to spend Easter with his parents. He'll stay there for a week. I'll stay at school with Ron and Hermione: N.E.W.T.s are nearing, and we need to study. I think it's going to be one of the worst holidays ever.

As Draco readies his trunk, I roll on our bed, inhaling as deeply as I can. I don't know what will be worse: sleeping here without him, or sleeping in my dorm without his scent surrounding me.

"You aren't sniffing my pillow, love, are you?"

"Maybe."

"Salazar, Potter! Don't be like this, please. I'll miss you too."

"I wonder... will we be able to sense each other through our bond, or is France too far away?"

"I honestly don't know. We'll find out. But since I'm still here..."

I end up kneeling on Draco's lap, his cock in my hand alongside mine, his fingers moving inside me. He's buried so deep I think I'll still feel it tomorrow. It feels amazingly good.

Afterwards, I spend the night looking at his sleeping face, barely stroking his hair. He looks so peaceful...

*

Friday 29-03-2013

A kiss, arms refusing to let go, whispered "I love you's", and Draco is gone.

For the whole day, the back of my mind is filled with the warm sensation of his presence: he's elated at the idea of seeing his parents, would have loved to have my company in this trip, misses me. I know when he arrives at his Father's Uncle, but our bond is so strained I can't get much more than distant feelings. Images cannot travel this distance, apparently.

As I take up my Potions book, I ready myself for a long, cold week.

*

Thursday 04-04-2013

My Draco-less week goes pretty well, on the whole. I spend a lot of time with my friends, even if it's for studying. We laugh and joke like in the old times. We eat insane amounts of chocolate, it being Easter and everything. We write essays. We prepare potions. We transfigure things. We practice spells. With Neville, I tend to plants. With Ron, I train in Quidditch. With Hermione, I talk about the bond and how it feels and works, while she takes notes for her Charms research. With Ginny, I talk about Draco.

Without Draco, I sleep hugging the plush dragon he gave me after our first month together.

*

It's just after dinner. I'm pondering the benefits of reading an Advanced Defence magazine that Andromeda lent me against the gratitude Hermione would feel if I'd take her place at the chessboard. Then I'm flooded with images and warmth. Eyes of molten silver, hair like pale gold, a spread of creamy skin, graceful bones, firm flesh, long limbs, coiling snakes. Draco is back.

I rush to our room, and I welcome him in with everything I've got.

*

Saturday 06-04-2013

In our dream, Draco is far away and I can't feel him in my mind. I wake up screaming, to find myself cradled in his arms, as he strokes my head and back, murmuring soothingly.

Held in the warmth of his body, I slowly relax and get back to sleep.

This is the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and I could burst out of my skin with the excitement. It'll be like a date with Draco, even if our friends will come along to spare us from the undesired attention we'd draw alone. Even Blaise agreed that Ginny and he would come with us: this should reinforce the idea of inter-House unity, were some gossiper to see us together.

The walk to Hogsmeade is nice: the weather is just pleasant, and we chatter amicably as Luna picks up flowers from the path.

Our first stop is Honeydukes, where Hermione waits for us all tapping her foot. "More chocolate? Guys, at least take some spearmint gums. Eating so many sweets is not good for the health of your mouth."

We lose Neville and Luna at Dogweed and Deathcap, where Nev can gladly spend the whole day without noticing.

At Tomes and Scrolls, Draco and Hermione peruse every shelf, pouring over old tomes; I check the Quidditch section with Ron and Ginny, but we don't find anything new. Blaise hides in a corner, and Ginny fishes him out later with his arms full of chick-lit novels, that he claims are a gift to Ginny herself. Draco buysThe magical word - Selected poems, and I hide my smile into his mouth.

We avoid Madam Rosmerta's pub because Draco doubts he'd be allowed to enter, not even on my side. Therefore, we share a nice cup of cocoa at Madam Puddifoot's, where Ron shows Hermione how good chocolate is for one's mouth, in detail and with a great amount of tongue. Ginny makes gagging noises, and I think only Blaise's intervention silences her. I'm not certain about it, because I'm really, really busy with Draco's lips at the moment.

After the chocolate, both Ginny and Ron insist on paying a visit to Zonko's Joke Shop. As soon as we're there, we stare flabbergasted at the new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes sign, as Ginny shouts: "Surprise!"

Seeing that George is expanding his trade is unexpected but good. Draco is a bit reluctant to follow us in, fearing he won't be welcome, but I persuade him. The visit goes better than expected. George is happy to see us all, and behaves in a very civil way towards Draco. When Draco thanks him for the thoughtful gift he and his family gave me for Christmas, George winks and his face splits open in the broadest grin since the end of the war.

After this pleasant meeting, Ginny really wants to go to Gladrags Wizardwear: she's the only one interested in that shop, so we part ways, leaving her and a somewhat perplexed Blaise to shop for clothes.

We wander around for a while, and then Hermione confesses she hoped to have her hair cut today, alongside with Ron, whose head resembles a fire in a haystack. Ron protests that they should stay with us, but Draco decides we'll be fine, and that we'll be going back to Hogwarts straight away. We leave a reluctant Ron and a happy Hermione at the Hairdressing salon, and head towards Hogwarts.

On our way back, we chat and hold hands and share chocolates.

Draco says something silly, and I'm leaning him on a fence to kiss him properly, when a shrill voice that I know and despise startles us.

"Who would have thought it possible? Harry Potter, engrossed in a public kiss! Harry, dear boy, why don't you tell me everything about your budding romance? My readers will be eager to have news about your life..."

Draco looks her up and down with clear distaste, taking in the lime green leather outfit and the glossy pink lipstick. "We've got no business with you, madam. I strongly suggest you to leave Potter alone."

Skeeter smiles her most nauseatingly sweet smile.

"Bless me, if it isn't the Malfoy boy. It's amazing news. I heard gossip, of course. My sources inside Hogwarts said... I did not believe it to be possible! Oh, it will make front page for sure. Harry, when did you realize you are gay? You were with that bushy-haired girl at the Triwizard Tournament, then you had a fling with the read-headed girl... You must tell me everything."

"I must not do anything of the sort, Skeeter. Stop tormenting me. Why don't you fly away?"

"What an awful way to see my work! Harry, dear, I'm nottormentingyou for my own sake. You must understand , the readers need to know, and it's my duty... I've got so many questions! Since when are you two together? Who made the first step? Which one of you tops in the bed-chamber?"

Draco's face never reddens in anger, but he has a healthy, rosy blush on his cheeks as he answers her, less glacially than he'd probably like. "How dare you, you nosy, interfering, little..."

I complete his sentence: "...bug. A cockroach, that's what she is. Let go, Draco, she's not worth it."

Skeeter looks at us over the frame of her glasses. "I take it you won't agree to an interview, then?"

"She's smarter than she looks, Harry, isn't she?"

She makes a displeasured movement with her head, her curls barely bouncing with the motion. "And you are not amenable to have some pictures taken?"

Draco corrects himself, "I take it back, she's really, really thick-headed."

"I understand. Did I say I was interested in this budding romance? How mistaken I was! Clearly, something dark is going on here. Our Saviour, the Golden Boy, has been perverted by an ex-Death Eater."

This has me staring at her in utter incomprehension. "What? Skeeter, what are you babbling about?"

"Let's face it, dear. You must be under Imperius. How could you possibly allow yourself to suck faces with this scum otherwise?"

I am seething with rage; Draco strokes my back in slow circles, soothingly. He is the one who answers, "Are you blackmailing us? We have to give you an interview and allow you to take pictures, or what?"

"I knew Lucius' boy would be more amenable. You'll find it's in your interest to second me, or..."

"Or?" I echo weakly, not liking where this conversation is going in the slightest.

"I think the Minister for Magic will be interested in discovering the use of an Unforgivable Curse, by a pardoned ex-Death Eater, no less..."

This is more than I can stand. "Stop it, Skeeter! You wouldn't dare! You have dirty secrets as well, and I know them."

Her voice sounds like poisoned honey. "I took my Animagus licence two months ago, Harry dear, if that's what you're hinting about. I can't wait to start writing my piece. It will be amazing. First page, for sure. It will sell out in an hour!"

A small, iridescent bug flies away before we can answer.

Our walk back to the castle is subdued, as I tell Draco everything about my former encounters with the nasty journalist. To be honest, I'm more worried for him than for me. In a way, I'm already used to her defamatory articles; it's Draco's reputation that's at stake here. Therefore, I do my best to reassure him.

"Don't worry, Draco. Even if she came clean and registered her Animagus form, I doubt that she admitted to using it for years... She'll write her article, but will the Minister take it seriously? I doubt it, he holds Skeeter in low enough esteem. Let's say she files a formal report of Unbreakable Curse use. We'll be probably called to the Ministry, but Shaklebolt is a reasonable man; he'd believe me over her. Even if it comes to a trial, you'll come out clean."

I can see alarm in his face: one trial was enough. I hasten to reassure him.

"It won't come to that. They will probably check your wand, just to make sure you never cast Imperius. I can throw that one off, by the way."

"You canwhat? Still, it doesn't matter. The suspicion that I cast it would be enough. If it's not the Imperius Curse, they'll accuse me of some other dark trick."

His voice is bitter and resigned.

"I don't think so, Draco. Not many things can forge love. I'll probably be tested for Amortentia, but in the end they'll be convinced that our feelings are our own."

"You're really naïve, Potter. I love you... Don't you know how the world goes by now? I don't deserve the happiness I've found with you, they'll never believe..."

"We will make them believe."

Over the dinner table, I share the whole Skeeter-situation with my friends. Hermione regrets leaving us alone -- even if her new haircut suits her greatly- and not crushing the nasty beetle when she had the occasion. She otherwise agrees it will all deflate with gossip, some Howler from theProphet's readers and a chat with Shacklebolt. Nothing I can't face, and Draco's name will come out clean. Luna offers to have her father publish something on theQuibbler, to let the world know I've found my true love at last, but in the end we agree to simply wait and see what Skeeter will do.

*

I'm lying down beside Draco, with his cold feet sneaking over my calves, as the most worrying question bubbles in the front of my mind.

"Draco, we're bonded."

"Now you notice..."

"I mean... how will the Minister take such a new?"

"You tell me. You're the one in friendly terms with him, after all."

I can tell from his glacial tone that he's really, really worried now. I try to be level-headed, not that it's my strong point. "Let's use reason. We're bonded, true, but we weren't forced to."

"Yet we didn't know that performing the spell would result in a bond between us. Nor do we know who gave us the spell in the first place."

"But Professor Snape said the spell had no influence on our feelings, remember? Do you think we can bring his portrait with us, if it comes to that? Will he speak for us?"

"And since when is Severus' word respected in the Ministry?" He sounds bitter.

"He was one of Hogwarts' Headmasters, and a hero to boot."

"Almost nobody knows about the last bit. Many people still think he's a traitor. Idiots, the lot of them!" He inhaled loudly, shaking his head in resignation. "No, I think it's best not to mention the bond, at all."

"Won't it be worst if they find out later? It's not a secret among our professors..."

"Damn, you're right. We'll tell the Minister and his lackeys about the bond, and say that it didn't change our feelings toward each other. They probably won't believe us. Want to know what they'll do next?"

I nod, and he goes on. "They'll try to break the bond, claiming that if our feelings are true, it won't change anything."

"But... they can't." I'm alarmed. "And I don't want them to try..."

"Me neither, Harry, believe me. Tampering with bonds is dangerous, and I fear the consequences."

He strokes my face, as if making sure I'm still here.

I won't allow anybody to... "Draco, what can they do to break us apart? Can we do something to prevent it?"

He ponders the question. "If we have to tell them about the bond, they'll want to read the letters. I don't remember the precise words, but wasn't the future usefulness of the knives mentioned in it?"

"I guess so."

"Well, then, they'll probably need the blades to rescind our bond." His voice is firm. "If we destroy them, we should be safe."

"But how can we do it? I doubt Reducto or Confringo will work, if they are powerful magic artefacts as you seem to believe."

"Salazar, Harry! We'll use a Basilisk's tusk, or Gryffindor's sword, or your impressive magical skill. You managed to destroy, what, four Horcruxes?"

"Five, actually, if you do not count Nagini, but I had help..."

"As I was saying, you managed to destroy five Horcruxes, I doubt two silly magical blades will trouble you." Having a plan is clearly helping him face the situation, and he sounds like his snarky, self-assured self again.

"I hope you're right. When will we do it? My knife is still in my trunk, in Gryffindor's dorm..."

"Mine is under the mattress, in my dorm as well. We'll do it tomorrow. Hug me now, Harry, I'm cold."

Warming him up is not hard at all. Once his skin has recovered his warmth, other things are.

*

Sunday 07-04-2013

In our dream, we're attacked by a swarm of green, shiny beetles. The buzz of the insects is deafening, and their wings cloud our view. Fumbling in the mass of little bodies, I reach out for Draco's hand. The moment he grabs it, I'm flooded with relief. Light bursts out from our Constellation Marks, and the beetles burn. We collapse into each other's arms. Draco's mouth never tasted so sweet.

We wake up earlier than usual. Worry is still nagging my brain: what if we won't be able to destroy the blades? After breakfast, we hurry to our dorms to retrieve them.

I reach Draco with my Chocolate Frog's Box as he's sitting on our bed rummaging in a carved wooden box full of silky bits and shiny things. He catches my perplexed look.

"My cuff-link holder. Did you really place your knife inthat?"

I send him an offended glance. "Why not? It's a safe place..."

As I open my box, Draco produces a folded parchment.

"Here, I wrapped my blade inside the letter..."

To our surprise, the object I fish from my cardboard box is not a knife; neither is the one that falls on the floor clinking as he unfolds the letter. Draco picks it up, and we stare in puzzlement at the two metal circles on our palms, noticing the details.

My knife has turned into a platinum ring, the colour of Draco's hair; Draco's blade has changed into a blackish metal ring, the colour of my hair. As we study the rings, we discover they are engraved. Mine saysHeart of the Dragon, Draco's one bearsHeart of the Lioncarved inside.

I meet Draco's bewildered eyes, which are resonating with the same question I want to ask: what does this mean?

"Draco, do you remember the letter mentioning rings?"

"Not at all. Let me re-read it. Where's yours, by the way?"

"McGonagall kept it. How come you have yours?"

"I picked it up from the desk when Professor Flitwick entered."

I blink at him, amazed at his nerve.

As we read together, we realize that the text is completely different from the one we read in December.

"My dear Draco,

If you are reading this parchment, one of the following circumstances occurred.

One, you are not grateful for the spell gifted to you and plan to undo its consequences, using the knife to rescind the bond. In this case, you will fail.

Two, you found your happiness in the bond the spell helped you to forge, but you fear someone will attempt to separate you from your stars, and you want to destroy the knife to prevent it.

I pride myself in my aptitude in reading people, and foretell the latter is true.

I am in the position to reassure you: the blade turned into a ring when you admitted in your heart that you've always wanted that particular bond. You'll find the bond itself springs from a kind of Magic more primal and powerful than my spells, and that no external force can sever it.

The ring is merely to be used as a token, as it is not enchanted.

I wish you a good life. Both of you."

We spend a while gazing into each other's eyes, searching for answers that aren't there: who sent us the spell? Why? What does he know about our life and choices? How did the letter change? How did the knives turn into rings? Then we stumble upon the answer to an unasked question, and Draco's fingertips graze the palm of my hand, as he takes the platinum ring and spins it around.

"Harry, my love."

"Mmmh?"

"Will you wear this?"

I can only nod, and swallow a knot in my throat as the cold metal slips over my ring finger.

"And you, Draco? Will you wear the other one?"

He smiles and opens his hand: I pick up the dark ring and place it on his finger.

We kiss like we just invented kissing.

"Harry... this is the moment. I'm ready. I want to make love to you, right now."

"Now... Dray, yes. I want..."

We struggle with our clothes, getting only half naked in our eagerness to feel each other. Our lips clash. Draco Accioes the lube and loosens me up with quick but careful fingers.

I lay on my belly, and he makes me turn over, because he wants to be able to look into my eyes. I remember reading that doing it lying on one's back may be more difficult, but it's a distant thought easily shaken away.

"I'm fine, Draco, now... just take me."

He does, in agonizing slowness. It hurts, and stings, and splits me apart. It doesn't matter. Draco feels my clenching muscles, sees my grimace, and freezes on the spot.

As I relax, things get better. I lift my hips minutely towards Draco, and he starts rocking slowly, gently, restraining himself. Words are out of my grasp, and I can only murmur his name, andyes, andlove you, andmore, as our pace speeds up and I can feel every delicious inch of him sliding inside me, being pulled out and blessedly pushed in again, over and over.

I open myself for Draco, like my first Golden Snitch opened up at my lips' touch. It seems the Resurrection Stone is his cock, buried deep inside me. I sure feel immortal right now.

As I get used to his sweet invasion, I raise my legs and try to spread them further, granting him better access. The angle changes, and he hits a brilliant spot inside me. I moan and thrust helplessly forward, and he repeats the motion once, twice. It is too much. As I come, I can feel my arse clenching down on Draco's cock, gripping it so hard it must hurt him. It could be, from the strangled sounds he's making. I know it's not, as a warm flood fills me and Draco's arms give way and he lands heavily on my chest. We lay like this from what seems a long time, waiting for our breath to return to its regular pace.

As he pulls carefully out, it feels as though my innards are following him, like he's fishing my heart out of my hole. I whimper. The ghost sensation of having him inside does not leave me.

"Harry, did I hurt you?"

"Not at all... a bit. At first. It felt amazing, afterwards. Don't you dare regret it! I feel fine. More than fine. Maybe a bit sore. I love you."

"Love you too. You don't have idea... so hot, so tight... you feel like coming home... No pain, are you sure?"

I am, but he still checks that I'm not bleeding, and spreads carefully a generous dose of soothing balm on my abused bits.

I fall asleep while he's still stroking me, utterly exhausted.

*

Monday 08-04-2013

I wake up alone, missing Draco's warmth beside me. It feels so empty, my body, after stretching wide to accommodate him. I can still feel the slickness down there, the burning pathway Draco carved for himself; I'm still clenching around the memory of his hardness. I feel a bit sore, but nothing as bad as I feared. The balm has done its work, then.

I don't really have the time to worry about why Draco left me here alone after what we shared that he's back, with a tray in his hands.

"I thought you'd be hungry. Are you?"

"I'm famished. Not sure treacle tart would do..."

His face falls.

"...but you brought here what I need all the same."

His puzzlement disappears as I grab the hem of his sweater and pull: he sits down on the bed and I quench my cravings into his mouth.

We end up sprawled on the bed, with Draco laying on his back and me straddling him. His hands are everywhere on my naked, burning skin. His clothes are still on and I'm chafing against them. I wave my hand signalling him to take them off, and they disappear.

"Stripping me wandless, love? Are you in a hurry?"

"Maybe I am."

I welcome the feel of his hard flesh under mine.

Draco retrieves the pot of honey-scented lube from the bedside table and coats us both, gently squeezing our cocks together.

Still, rubbing against each other is not nearly enough, not after what we did last night. I take the situation in my hands - or not in my hands at all: I raise forward and lower myself quickly down, sheathing Draco completely into my flesh with a quick thrust downwards. It's easier this time: my muscles are still loose and relaxed from yesterday.

Draco makes a strangled noise of surprise, and I lean down to kiss him, utterly enjoying the pleasure of being filled by him, again, of having him inside me, again.

"I feel so silly now..."

"Why, Draco? You feel... yes, more... like this... love, you feel wonderful!"

"For my fears... We could have made love months ago..."

"Told you so."

"... and to think you begged me for it..."

"Draco?"

"Yes, love?"

"Am I doing something wrong?"

"Of course not. Harry, you're perfect."

"Then why are you still able to talk?"

It turns out he isn't, after all.

We're very, very late for Transfiguration, this morning.

*

Tuesday 9-04-2012

In our dream, Draco's cock is buried so deep inside me that not only does it make me see stars, the stars I see are moving. We're under a shower of meteors. Constellations spin and turn in time with Draco's unhurried thrusts. The Dragon coils towards the Lion. The Lion raises his hips in offer; the Dragon takes him. The skies are shaken by the force of their coupling. White heat fills the outer space. The come of the astral beasts renews the Milky Way. Draco doesn't notice any of this: he's focused on me and me alone. His eyes are brighter than any star.

As we reach the breakfast table, I notice the mound of letters piled next to my plate: this isn't going to be a good day. Draco squeezes my hand: I don't know if he wants to reassure himself or me.

Ron tries to be comforting, "You've got mail, mate. No Howlers, at least."

Hermione raises her head from her copy of theDaily Prophet, grimacing.

I'm able to read the huge title on the first page, "Who will save the Saviour?"

Draco feigns a calm denied by his grip on my hand. "Is it as bad as it seems?"

"It's hilarious, actually," comments Ginny. "It rants about the dangerous ex Death Eater corrupting the Golden Boy and turning him into dull lead. It remarks that Precious Potter --don't glare, Harry, I'm quoting-- would never be seen with Maleficent Malfoy --still quoting-- if not forced by dark magic. It goes on and on about the poor orphaned Boy-Who-Lived and how in is desperate need to be loved he let himself be corrupted by the evil but gorgeous son of Lucius Malfoy. It suggests the use of the Imperius Curse by the unredeemable young Slytherin."

Draco is beyond perplexed. "I honestly don't understand what amuses you."

"Knowing the truth," answers Ginny smartly, handing us the newspaper.

I read the first sentences over Draco's shoulder: it's the usual, disgusting, written-by-Skeeter mix of half-truths, utter lies, wild speculations and distorted facts.

I flip through the envelopes heaped on the table: I don't want to read this either.

Ginny holds out her hand, and I give her the stack. She leafs through it, and then she shows me that many of them are addressed to Draco. I meet her eyes shaking my head minutely and she Incendioes the lot.

Draco peeks up, and I shrug, "Either it was hate mail or marriage proposals. I'm not interested."

He offers me a small smile and resumes his reading.

I inhale deeply and rake my hand through my hair.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione tries to comfort me, "it's not the first time Skeeter publishes defamatory articles. You know how it goes: it will blow down to nothing..."

Draco folds the paper in brisk movements. "How dared that, thatsalopewrite such utter crap about us! My father will hear about this," he looks suddenly defeated, "and would not be able to do a single thing to defend me..."

I slide my arm around his waist and squeeze. "Don't worry, Draco. We knew this would happen, sooner or later. We'll face it. Together. Yes?"

His smile is somewhat trembling at the corners, but I take it for assent.

Hermione's seriously suggesting us to make a declaration to the press, and Luna is offering again to interview us for theQuibbler, as Alba sweeps down with a formal looking envelope tied to her leg.

I take it numbly, petting her head and staring at the Ministerial Insignia sealing the letter.

I feel a sudden stab of sympathy for Uncle Vernon and his dislike for mail.

Seeing that I'm reluctant to open it, Hermione holds her hand out for the letter. I give it to her without a word. She opens it and starts reading it aloud.

"Dear Mr. Potter,

a formal accusation of Use of Unforgivable Curses has been filed to our offices. As the supposed victim, you are required to attend the formal hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of April.

Sincerely,

Justina Peacekeeper

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement Office

Ministry of Magic"

I don't have the time to say anything, when a nondescripts owl brings a similar envelope to Draco.

His hands shake as he takes it, and his face is so pale it's almost bluish, but his voice is steady while he reads the convocation.

"Dear Mr. Malfoy,

We have received intelligence that you might have performed an Unforgivable Curse, or used other unlawful methods involving Dark Arts, with the purpose of submitting an upstanding citizen to your whims. As you are a pardoned Death Eater, this action will not be given amnesty.

You are required to attend the formal hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of April. The Minister himself will judge you.

Sincerely,

Justina Peacekeeper

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement Office

Ministry of Magic"

I try to smile in a reassuring way. "See? Shacklebolt is going to be there. He'll listen to me."

Hermione reaches for the letter and Draco lets her have it.

"Youmighthave performed Imperius, they say. They don't have proof, because you didn't. Since when does justice give credit to gossip? Draco, they don't have anything to use against you, only Skeeter's word."

"That'll be enough to condemn me, you'll see," he mutters darkly.

Ron adds his own bit of wisdom, "Mate, didn't you tell him? You're not affected by Imperius! Shacklebolt knows it! He'll believe you when you say you choose the Ferret freely."

Before I can answer, Draco lashes out, "Me being suspected of using an Unforgivable is bad enough! It can mean Azkaban for me: don't you get it, Weasel? Even if they rule the Imperius Curse out due to Potter's resistance, they'll come up with something else to prove my guilt. Nobody will believe that the Golden Boy fell for Death Eater scum like me."

"Draco..." I take his face into my hands and kiss him so deeply he has to choke back the last words, "I. Do. Love. You. Get it?"

Not even Hermione complains.

Ginny claps briefly. "Here's the Saviour, to the rescue. Draco, you have Harry ready to defend you. He'll be there with you. After the hearing the Minister will ask forgiveness for doubting you... want to bet?"

"Maybe it won't come to that," I hasten to correct her, "but Shacklebolt will believe me. I'll ask them to use Veritaserum, if need be. You did nothing wrong."

"Let's suppose they question us under Veritaserum," Draco concedes. "What about the bond? They'll suspect me to have plotted it all along, to gain your affection, to regain prestige, to restore the Malfoys' good name... I have plenty of reasons for wanting you by my side, love being the less important."

"Is love the less important reason to be with me?" I search his eyes.

"Politically speaking, yes. Otherwise, it's the only reason and you know it."

I bump my head on his shoulder. "And if they ask you under Veritaserum if our bond was your doing, what will you answer?"

"That I didn't know that spell would do anything more than remove the Dark Mark. Harry, I know they can't break our bond," he admits, rubbing the ring on his finger and sounding uncertain despite his words, "but they can still do a lot of nasty things to protect you from me..."

"I don't need protection from you. I won't allow them to separate us. But about the bond... maybe Professors Flitwick and McGonagall may talk for us. Do you think Snape's portrait would agree to attend as well?"

Hermione looks doubtful. "Portraits aren't usually allowed to testify at hearings, but I think you should definitely ask our teachers for advice. They have to excuse you from Friday's lessons, after all..."

In the end, Hermione accompanies Draco and me to Professor McGonagall, to help us define a strategy for the hearing. Our teacher reads the convocation letters with concern on her features, but smiles reassuringly at us. "I'm sure Kingsley only wants to clarify things. By making it this official, he will prevent other people to doubt your bond and to defame Mr. Malfoy in the future. You two are adamant that your relationship is really what you want and that it wasn't forced in the slightest?"

We not emphatically, showing her our rings and explaining about the knives' transfiguration.

"Interesting... I'd really like to find out who the author of the binding spell was. Anyway," she dismisses the issue, "I'd be sure to escort you to the Ministry. Miss Granger, I fear you would not be allowed in, but I'd like a word with you. Potter, Malfoy, I'll see you in class tomorrow."

I don't know why McGonagall needs to talk to Hermione in such a conspiratorial way, but I hope she has a plan.

*

At dinner, an unexpected volley of owls brings a load of mail to our table.

From the teacher's table, Professor Flitwick flicks his wand, and all the letters disappear but one.

I pick up the envelope, not sure if I should be relieved or frightened to recognize Molly's handwriting on it.

Ginny notices it as well. "Mother sent you a letter? What about? Are you sure it's not a Howler?"

As the letter folds itself into a mouth, I wonder. However, Molly's voice comes out of the parchment in soothing tones, "Harry, my boy, I'm so sorry that you have to go through this again. That journalist! We all know it's a load of lies, dear. Thinking your heart can be swayed from his true path, unbelievable! The nerve of her! Suspecting the Malfoy boy to use the Imperius Curse, after having seen how crestfallen he was at the end of the war! Ginny, dear, are you eating your vegetables? We support you, Harry. Arthur will be at the Ministry if you need him. Tell the Malfoy boy he has nothing to worry about. You were moping for him at Christmas, weren't you? You deserve happiness, Harry, and we're glad you've found your match. Ron, dear, tell Hermione I'll send her my cooking notebook soon. Hugs to you all!"

The letter dissolves in white confetti. Ginny shakes her head, suppressing laughter, at the sight of Draco's astonished face. Honestly, I look just as flabbergasted as he does.

"Welcome in the family, then,Malfoy boy!" she puffs out.

Hermione reaches us after dinner, and refuses to share with us what the Headmistress told her.

"Don't worry," she reassures us, "everything will be fine."

Draco's grateful smile takes us all by surprise.

Later, in our bed, we make love like the world will end if we stop, rendering it impossible to tell my body parts apart from Draco's ones.

*

Friday 12-04-2012

After spending the last couple of days trying to be trustful in the Minister, reassuring each other, worrying about the outcome of the hearing and practicing in front of Hermione our answers to the most likely questions that will be asked us, we're utterly exhausted.

Despite our tiredness and Draco's claims that multiple orgasms aid relaxation and thus favour sleep, the small hours of the morning find us awake, entangled into each other's arms. We lay there, silently, waiting for a proper time to go to breakfast.

As the time of the hearing approaches, Draco closes himself behind an impassive mask, and I find myself more and more ready to jump into action. I won't be intimidated like I was at the disciplinary hearing before the beginning of Fifth Year: Kingsley and whoever will be present will have to listen to what I have to say.

After a quick, shared shower, we get ready donning our most formal robes, and head towards the Great Hall. Our friends reach us shortly after. We eat in silence, as everything as already been said earlier.

As Professor McGonagall signals us that it's time to go, Hermione hugs me and slips a piece of parchment into my hand. "When they ask you for proof, read this aloud, Harry. You'll be fine, both of you. I promise."

I put it in my pocket and thank her. Then she holds out her hand for Draco, and he shakes it. Ron claps him on the back before gripping my shoulder for a moment. Ginny places a kiss on my cheek and on Draco's as well, catching him unawares. Blaise nods gravely. Luna murmurs that the Nargles will be on our side, and Neville offers us a Four-leaf Fortuna Clover and a smile.

*

At the door of Courtroom Ten, we meet Arthur Weasley, who tells us the hearing will be held in Shacklebolt's Meeting Room. This bids well, and I can feel Draco's hand minutely relax his grasp on mine.

The meeting room is crowded with Aurors; I recognize a few reporters --not Skeeter-- and I'm sure Unspeakables are present as well, but at least it doesn't look like a tribunal.

"Headmistress, welcome," begins the Minister as we enter. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy." He winks at me. "You are here today because Rita Skeeter filed a report stating that if you two are in a relationship --and I can see that you are-- it is due to the use of Dark Arts by Mr. Malfoy. How do you respond?"

Draco squares his shoulders and answers as planned, "I swear that I did not perform the Imperius Curse, nor did I use any Dark Magic, Potion, Charm or other kind of enchantment to win over Potter' heart and trust. Try me under Veritaserum, if need be: you'll get the same answer. I love Potter, and he requites my feelings by his own free will."

Shaklebolt shakes his head, "I don't approve the use of Veritaserum, and only resort to it on those convicted for grave crimes. I doubt this situation calls for it. Harry... Mr. Potter, would you like to add something?"

"As Draco... Mr. Malfoy said," I correct myself quickly, "my feelings for him are neither forced nor induced by any kind of dark spell. You'll find, Sir, that Skeeter still likes to spin tales about me."

"Skeeter will be taken care of, if that's the case," assures Shacklebolt. "What about the mysterious spell that bonded you to each other?"

As decided with Hermione, I offer my simple answer. "It is true that we both received the instruction of a spell that resulted in our being bonded. We do not know the source of the spell. We are sure that it did not change our feelings. We suppose it only increased our awareness of them, and gave us the courage to act on them."

Shaklebolt looks toward Professor McGonagall inquisitively, nodding at her, and she reports him everything about the letters, the spell, Professor Flitwick's tests and Portrait Snape's statements.

"Dear Headmistress," says the Minister gravely when she stops talking, "I wish it could be possible to admit Professor Snape's opinion, but as a portrait..."

"As a portrait", Snape's cold voice startles us all. It comes from a painting of a small fishing boat rocked by high waves. Snape does not look at ease sitting on the small wooden bench inside the boat, his long hair lashing in the howling wind. However, his voice is louder than the wind: "As a portrait, I may come and go as I see fit. As I said once to my colleague, the bonding spell did not create feelings from thin air, nor did it force them. Unfortunately, I cannot give you proof of this."

"I hope your word will suffice, Severus." Dumbledore's voice echoes from a frame representing a high tower. He leans out a small window, his beard tumbling down in white strands on the marble windowsill, and winks at us before disappearing again.

"And if it does not," Snape continues, "I hope Potter will remember to make his final statement."

Everybody turns towards me, and Draco nudges my side with his elbow. I suddenly remember Hermione's note: I fish it out of my pocket and unfold it quickly.

"Sir, may I?" I ask Shaklebolt. He nods, and I read, hiding both surprise and relief as the words tumble out of my mouth.

"If my relationship with Draco was forced upon me by a spell, be it Dark Arts or the bonding spell we performed in December, my true soul would know it and wish to be set free from such a constriction. If my relationship with Draco was of my choosing, I would be perfectly happy with my life, and I won't have any greatest and more hidden desire in the depths of my soul. I therefore require the test of the Mirror of Erised. Allow me and Draco to face the Mirror, and the reflection will be the proof you need."

Shaklebolt claps his hands, and a burly pair of Aurors leaves the room, returning after a minute with the Mirror, hidden under a curtain. The Mirror is placed in front of Draco and me.

Shaklebolt removes the cloth with a flourish, and I stare at the reflecting surface.

I see Draco holding my hand, a tiny smile gracing his lips. We're dressed in formal robes.

I stare at Draco's reflection in fascination, noticing how the tension leaves his body as he takes in my own reflection, comparing it to me with quick glances. The image and the truth coincide perfectly: after reading Hermione's note I expected this, but it's still a relief to see that it worked.

The room is completely silent, as if waiting for something, until a voice mutters reverently, "That's me... first page... the Golden Quill Award..."

Draco's worried whisper in my ear is barely audible. "Harry, if the Mirror shows one's deepest desires, how can the supposed witnesses see the same thing we are seeing?"

"I am sure Hermione thought about this," I whisper back urgently. "We just have to figure out how..."

I'm still fumbling for reassuring words, when the Head Auror addresses us, "Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. Do you allow me to perform a modified version of Legilimency on you? It will project on that wall the image you're seeing in the Mirror, allowing everybody in this room to witness it."

We nod, sudden relief darting through us, again.

The Head Auror waves his wand, castingLegilimens Specularemque Faciem Revelio.

Our image appears on the wall: we look exactly like we are, both in the reflection and in the flesh.

The chatter rising from the crowd is deafening.

Shaklebolt smiles at us, raises a hand to get silence and addresses the press, "I exculpate Mr. Malfoy from every accusation of using Unforgivables or Dark Arts. I state that the bond shared by Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy is freely chosen and legally binding, as the rings they're wearing clearly attest. Anyone stating otherwise will be tried for calumny. Rita Skeeter already benefited our leniency as a previously unregistered Animagus: I intimate her not to write other defamatory articles, on penalty of the breaking of all her quills and banishment from this Wizarding Community. By my authority and for Merlin's Sake, this hearing is over."

As Aurors and reporters flow out of the room, I turn to Draco. His smile is blindingly bright, but I can only see it for a second: I find myself wrapped into his arms, his mouth hot and eager upon mine.

I'm so engrossed in the kiss, I almost miss Kingsley's final words, "Be happy, my boys. It looks like the whole Universe plotted to allow you two to be together..."

*

Epilogue - early summer

The N.E.W.T.s are over, and our life is spread in front of us, full of promises. Of one thing we're certain: we'll live it together.

Draco and I are lying on a blanket at the lakeshore at sunset, curled together and lazily kissing, when a flutter of wings startles us.

Luna is standing at the feet of the blanket, a dreamy, knowing smile hanging on her lips.

"Here you are, lover-boys. Did my magpies scare you?"

"Not at all, although theydidinterrupt us."

Draco is still learning how to be kind toward my friends, but Luna doesn't seem to mind.

"Wrackspurts are scared of magpies, did you know?"

I can't lie to Luna. "Well, not really, no."

"I like magpies," she continues, unfazed by my lack of enthusiasm. "They always bring me baubles and shiny things. They belong to the same family of crows, you know. Intelligent creatures, they are, easier to train than owls. Even Professor Snape was partial to them. Said they're more reliable if you have to send vital mail."

This startles me, but Draco beats me to the question.

"And when did he say that, pray tell?"

"Oh, it was some days before the Last Battle, you know." Luna's gaze becomes unfocused as she recalls. "We met in the Owlery. He asked me if I wanted to be useful. He wasn't scary at all. A sad, sad man. Always hiding his better side. Said the magpies will answer my call.Call them if both the boys survive, he said.The Nargles will tell you when, he said.The magpies will make everything fine after my death, he said. And they did, didn't they?"

THE END