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Harco Empire	By : Toddy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 34430 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or films. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, just enjoyment.

Chapter List
- 99
- 100
- 101
[Note: conversation =: “speech” & ‘thoughts’ & *telepathy* & #Parseltongue# & {telephone}]
(Enticement and mutual masturbation)
~~~ REMEDIES ~~~
As the smell of freshly brewed coffee awoke Draco; he looked down at his exposed arousal and blushed. He went even redder when he realised he was not in his bedroom. ‘I hope no-one saw me’ he thought as he drew the robe together and went downstairs to make his ablutions. Bathing over – there was no shower – he hurried upstairs to dress. On arrival downstairs he was disappointed to find that it was only just after six o’clock. However, there was no time for a leisurely meal because the two witches wanted to be off on their voyage whilst the sea was relatively calm and the tide right. By half-past Draco was preparing to enjoy his second cup of coffee when Astoria, sensing that he was deliberately procrastinating, mobilicorpussed him away from the table.
“Upstairs, now, Draco, waterproofs on, and back here in five minutes,” Astoria demanded: “Do you understand? I want to return before tonight’s forecast storm starts.”
Draco looked daggers at his friend, realised his ruse had been sussed, and scuttled off to get his outdoor clothes and plant collecting satchel. His ire was somewhat ameliorated by Shagreen appearing in his bedroom with a large thermos flask of freshly made coffee. However, Draco wore a diplomatic scowl when he returned downstairs – it did not disappear until well into the voyage and they started spotting seals and otters: arguing as to which animal the sighted one really was. It was also helped by Draco’s admiration of the way Siobhan handled the boat through the sea eddies and sharp rocks. He thought the skill somewhat on akin with Quidditch manoeuvres but in a stronger medium that air. Because of that, peace reigned until they reached Voragberay.
On arrival at the island Draco found that there was a very narrow entrance which twisted beneath a natural arch onto a small beach. The sands were very obviously made of the same grey rock that a stream had eaten away and then made into a delta. It was through this trickling water that entry could be made up onto the fissured plateau that formed the main part of the island. It was within those grikes that so many of the rare plants grew.
Our two plant hunters were so overjoyed to find such rare specimens from elsewhere growing in relative abundance that they forgot all about Purple Bog Mantle for a couple of hours. Going round and exclaiming: “Have you ever seen [this or that plant] growing so well?” and similar remarks.
Having rushed excitedly around they sat and shared an early lunch. Draco divided his coffee with them at lunch time and, as they chatted, Siobhan revised her plans about Draco. She found him sensible and working for other people’s good and not the heartless monster she supposed from Rory’s reports. However, she did not abandon her ideas altogether; she also reminded the two Slyths about the second tide which would soon be turning. After the meal the two visitors adopted a more serious mode of operation; carefully assessing the clumps of Purple Bog Mantle and deciding which plants to uproot to take back for Neville to nurture. They noticed the variety of locations and only chose specimens from clumps that could afford to miss one of their members. Draco also harvested a few leaves off other plants and managed to find six ripe seeds which he carefully bagged ready for making into potions when he returned.
It was a good thing they were returning eastwards, because the west wind was already freshening for the forecast storm. With the wind behind them they made good way. The two Slyths clung together more than once as Siobhan navigated the tide-races between the very sharp looking rocks. Nevertheless, they reached her relatively calm haven just as the rain began to fall in earnest.
They were soaked by the time the boat had been secured and the croft was reached – because, as they walked uphill, the wind seemed to find every aperture in their clothing and drive water through onto their skin. A steaming Fawkes greeted them from the mantelpiece; receiving a polite greeting from Siobhan when she was introduced. After changing out of their wet clothes and partaking of hot baths the three mages sat round the fire drinking their precursor mugs of soup before dinner.
“Are there any more islands like that Siobhan?”
“There’s another guid one, a few mile further than Voragberay, with a very keen sound. I’d have to leave you there for ain tide, ’cause there’s only landin at low watter when I can ken all the rocks.”
“I think you should leave me out of that one, Draco. I’d really like to get the plants back to Neville in good condition. He’ll have to make up the soil to the right chemistry and that might take time. Besides, Ginny will be home for one day tomorrow before she goes off on tour for a month or so.”
“I suspect our racing through the rocks has something to do with it too.”
“Yes … Well … You’re used to sudden turns and missing solid items by two hairsbreadths. I never was a good Quidditch player, was I?”
“I ken ye’d like to use the floo?”
“Please, Siobhan. Apparating or port-keying in this weather is likely to get me soaked or even blown off course.”
“Arecht, I’ll see if I can raise Minerva.” Siobhan contrived to look resigned – she did not want to seem too pleased about getting rid of the witch without having to connive; so she had schooled her face carefully.
Astoria expected Draco to object because he was being left un-chaperoned by a Dumbledorian. Siobhan’s technique of listening attentively to the blond’s stories about Harry had paid off – he felt quite secure and raised no objections.
F: *I thought a Slytherin would object at being left alone with a Scottish crone, my Son*.
D: *I feel safe with her, Fawkes*.
F: *Has she flattered your ego that much*?
D: *I don’t know what you mean*?
F: *I think you have caught the Gryff bug from you partner*.
D: *So I’m to mistrust every stranger – Is that what you mean? Anyway – Siobhan seems to be a harmless old granny*.
F: *You wouldn’t say that about Minerva, would you*?
D: *No – She’s got a very sharp brain – but I still trust her – she acts so upright, even if she is devious*.
F: *So this old granny – as you call her – isn’t being devious*?
D: *No … She’s a bit odd, I grant you … But so would you be; living out here by yourself*.
F: *Very well, my Son. Just remember you can rely on me if something goes awry*.
D: *What can go awry on an isolated island full of plants*?
F: *We will see*! the phoenix shimmered knowingly perched on the shining brass fender.
Try as he might, Draco could not get Fawkes to communicate anything further.
While this was going on, Siobhan had contacted Minerva and Astoria had flooed back to the academy with their samples, to port home from there.
Shagreen served the remaining two contemplative mages with their dinner. Siobhan gently drew Draco out getting him to tell more stories of his more recent doings with Harry, carefully stroking his ego; so that, by the time he retired to bed he had put Fawkes’s veiled warnings entirely out of his mind and a number of shots of good whisky into his belly.
Despite the storm Siobhan took a secret broomstick ride out that night and a disguised Petrel-Fawkes followed her.
~~~ ISLAND LODGE ~~~
Harry had had little time to look around when he arrived so he was more alert as they went back to Wisteria’s lodge. The walk, on the main island, was now nearly forty minutes long because Wisteria wished to show her visitors all the beautiful views. It was useful in another way in that Galvin could rest during his walk. His wounds may have healed quickly but his body had been in bed weakened by fighting off an infection before that.
The path through the gorse and shrubby growth did not keep a straight line, seemingly heading towards a cliff edge. Two upright stones held an ancient gate through which they passed. This seemed to lead to a viewing place on the cliff’s edge. Wisteria offered her hand to Mackenzie and turned right passing through some wards; Galvin followed suit with Harry. The gorse occlusion melted and revealed a footway leading down along the face of a short precipice; at the bottom of which was a small private bay with a sloping shoreline, there was the boat waiting to carry them onwards.
Once boarded, they pushed off and Wisteria raised the sail. On the voyage Harry was allowed to take the tiller and astonished the islanders with his unconscious navigating skills. He found them quite close to his skills on a broomstick, but said nothing because he was concentrating.
As they approached the island it appeared to be a barren rock surrounded by dangerous shoals. Once inside the wards the lushness of the island was revealed and, within a sheltered bay, the small lodge was perched just above the tide line. Because of the slope the lodge was built on different levels – the hinder part being half a storey higher than the front. Viewed from the back it appeared to be a bungalow, whilst from the front a central dormer window belied two storeys. Before the domicile was a short terrace with some blooming flower-tubs, the wall of which held bollards for tying up the couple of small boats resting on the shore below the high-water mark.
‘Laggen Lodge’ the stone escutcheon proclaimed from over the central doorway.
“May I formally welcome to my house, Mages? We were in too much of a rush earlier.”
“Thank you, Wisteria. Not that we can mess about – we still have to work out how to rescue Berwyn.”
“At least we can have an unhurried meal and discuss plans whilst eating.”
“It is tomorrow morning that I have to meet the Admiral,” added Galvin: “I pretended I knew nothing of golden rings and sapphires; saying that I would report back on my researches. He got angry when I prevaricated – that’s when he ordered me stripped and beaten.”
“Where does he expect to meet you … Does it have any cover…”? And other such questions were asked by the visitor whilst preparing dinner. [There were no elves]
In enjoying the meal they laid various contingency plans depending on the reactions of the ‘Admiral’. It turned out that the sailor concerned purported to be Sir Cloudesley Shovell – a mariner of great note from an earlier century – the one whose body had been washed up on the shore of Saint Mary’s Island. Plans laid, Harry and Mac listened fascinated to some of Wisteria’s Scillonian folk stories and how they related to the old ways on the archipelago. Too soon it was time for bed.
Wisteria showed the mages to their guest rooms, asking them not to waste water because the islands relied on wells for their drinking water, and showing them the tanks containing the lodge’s supply of rainwater for washing etc.
The guest rooms were at the back of the house, half a flight up from the main floor. As Harry was undressing ready for bed there came a knock on the door. He hurriedly drew a robe round his naked form and bid the person enter.
Galvin came in – still dressed: “Err … Harry … I hope you’ve not forgotten your job?”
“Um … What job?”
“To rub that ointment into my scars.”
“Surely the lotion I used is enough?” Harry schooled his curvy-buttock-remembering libido.
“I still have a little itching and, knowing that nurse, she’s bound to ask if I had it done. Like you, I’m not very good at lying and we live in such a small community.”
Harry caught the hopeful gleam in Galvin’s eye: “Oh … Very well, then … Strip off and come and lie down here.”
“Err … Harry … The ointment’s in my room; I’m still feeling a bit tired … Could you …?”
“Yes … I suppose so.” Harry let out a big sigh. He was unsure whether the request was a come-on or genuine; so he erred on the side of generosity.
Not wishing to get dressed again, Harry tied his robe carefully, shucked his feet into some slippers and followed Galvin up the other half flight of stairs into his room. Galvin’s bed was under the sloping eves and was wider than normal in compensation. Galvin took his time undressing, removing his lower garments first and carefully folding his clothes. He managed to display tantalising glimpses of his equipment and cast furtive glances at the Gryff to see if he was paying attention. Harry was – as well as listening to a private argument between his conscience and his libido.
Once he was naked, Galvin turned to Harry and handed him the tube of ointment; there was an amount of erection on display: “I’m ready. Shall I lie on the bed?”
Harry clocked a thickening prick and mentally kicked himself: “Yes please, on your front and near to the edge of the bed, so that I can reach you without leaning in too far.”
Galvin turned back the upper sheets and lay down as instructed; turning his head so that he could watch his masseur. Harry squeezed the ointment out and started to rub it in along the faint scar marks. As before, Harry worked from the top downwards. When the Gryff reached the small of Galvin’s back, the patient arched his bum slightly, imperceptibly widening the gap between his thighs. Harry tried to ignore the physical innuendo until he reached the downy mounds and Galvin moaned in pleasure. The moans definitely undermined the strictures of Harry’s conscience, but he soldiered on trying to ignore his swelling desire.
Bath-robes and dressing-gowns have an annoying habit when one is working in them. That is – a tendency to come apart. Galvin kept a surreptitious eye on Harry’s robe, noting the gradual revelation of the hairy chest as the theatrical curtains of the mage’s gown drew apart to allow glimpses of the act to follow. To begin with Harry was not aware of what was happening. Only when he felt his engorgement part the hems did he pause to take in the situation.
“Bugger!” Harry did not want to grip Draco’s latest silken dressing-gown gift with oily hands.
Galvin grabbed the Slyth’s prick as soon as he saw it emerge: “You can if you want, but I’d hoped for some more foreplay first.”
“What?” Harry’s abdomen reacted to Galvin’s rough stroking: “Stop it!”
“Why? I know you’re enjoying it; I can feel your cock-robin throbbing.”
“Yes … But it’s not a professional way to behave.”
“You’re not a Doctor or a nurse; so that argument doesn’t hold water; whereas this argument does.” Galvin gripped the base hard and tweaked Harry’s glistening glans.
As Harry huffed Galvin changed his tactics. He removed his groping fingers, grabbed Harry’s hands and rolled over further on to the bed. Harry, already slightly off balance, toppled forward across Galvin’s body; landing with his hands dangerously near Galvin’s newly revealed erection. Galvin reached round and slid Harry’s robe off his back re-applying his digits. Harry shivered as his conscience finally gave up the unequal fight. Mentally shrugging, Harry readjusted his position, repaying Galvin with like for like thrills. Harry had an advantage in that his fingers were still covered in the ointment and Galvin received the slippery skill and experience of Harry’s practice on Draco.
Harry paused.
“What’s wrong?”
“Try putting some of this ointment on your fingers.”
“Your prick hasn’t been hurt, has it?”
“No, but it might soon be sore from your enthusiasm.”
“Oh … Right … … … Is that better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Galvin was not as practiced as Harry, nevertheless he quickly learned and Harry was eventually satisfied, but not simultaneously as he would have been with Draco.
After a little post coital cuddling Harry made up his mind: “I think we both need some sleep and if I stay we might be tempted to stray again,” and sat up in bed.
“Okay I suppose.” Galvin looked somewhat crestfallen: “Thanks for the experience … Perhaps it’s not for me … I needed to find out, though,” replied Galvin, from the pillow.
“What do you mean?”
Galvin turned and propped his head on his forearm: “Err … Berwyn and I mess around with each other sometimes … I love him like a brother should and we enjoy our escapades. I wanted to see what it felt like with someone as fanciable as you.”
“Was it better?”
“Much the same really - No offence meant.”
“None taken – Do you fancy girls?”
“Not sure really – there aren’t any other magely families on the nearby islands. I had a couple of female friends at Hogwarts, they were okay I suppose … Not that we did anything too naughty … Maybe things might have progressed if my OWL results had been better … But I did not stay on for NEWTS.”
“What about the muggle girls around here?”
“We have no real contact – they keep a respectful distance … You know how it is. It’s schooled into the islanders as the proper way to treat practitioners of the old ways, from birth. Anyway, I find myself eyeing up the young men more.”
“Perhaps you’ll have to wait for your soul-mate. You can’t resist the pull once it’s there. Look at Draco and I, we were poles apart in our politics …”
“… Yes I remember your fights in school …”
“… But now the divergent views help us to form a complimentary partnership. We’ve discussed it a lot and we think we fell in love a long time before we actually acknowledged it. Dumbles used to say that love and hate lived under the same roof, not that I believed him then. I think that one of the things that bind us together is the trust we’ve slowly built up. I can tell him anything and he can do the same, and that’s without feeling hurt of annoyed.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have rows!”
“Yes we do … usually about little niggles … Kiss and make up is great afterwards, though. We’re very lucky in that our magic is so compatible … And being linked makes us extremely thaumically strong.”
“Some say stronger that Merlin. Mum says that she and Dad were compatible too … Such a pity that Voldie got him … Still … We have our house and living; so I can’t grumble too much.”
“No … He got both of mine … I think it’s time for me to find my bed … Thanks for the entertainment. Probably something we both needed to get out of our systems before we start tackling things more serious. See you in the morning.”
“Yes … Goodnight.” Galvin was already snuggled down by the time Harry had wiped his hands, donned his silk dressing-gown and closed the door.
~~~ MORNING ~~~
A cockerel crowing was the Gryff’s alarm call. As he arose, Harry realised that the animal attraction that he had felt towards Galvin had now passed, he was pleased on two counts; firstly, he felt slightly guilty about cheating on Draco and secondly he knew that the sex bug would not interfere in his and Galvin’s working together. At least he hoped it wouldn’t.
This was confirmed by Galvin who was descending the stairs when Harry opened his door to go to the bathroom.
“Morning, Harry.” A quick peck on Harry’s cheek. “Thanks for last night I enjoyed it – it’s not likely to happen again. Fancy a pre breakfast dip?”
Harry looked out of the door at a sunlit bay, the tide was halfway up the small sandy beach, and the blue water looked enticing.
“Morning, Galvin – Why not?” and removed his towelling bath-robe.
As Galvin followed suit they did peek at each other’s flaccidities, but no further adventures happened. Mackenzie appeared and, upon being invited, he joined the bathing party.
The flock of pecking hens parted for the three naked mages to pass through, paying little attention to the humans; being much more intent on finding every kernel of some recently scattered grain. The wizards swam gently out to a rock pinnacle and around it; coming back to land feeling very refreshed. Galvin took a bucket and dipped it into the rainwater tank, before Harry realised what had happened Galvin had upended the receptacle over Harry’s head. Harry expected a cold shock but the water was tepid.
“That’ll get rid of the salt – Now you do it to me, please? Berwyn and I do this each morning – if it’s raining we just stand outside.” Galvin had re-dipped the bucket and doused Mackenzie as well
Harry took the bucket and tipped it over the McLaggen scion, they then used their towelling robes to dry themselves off, hanging them on a line to dry after they had finished. Teeth cleaning was done outside using a glass and, Harry blushed quietly to himself, peeing had already been done whilst they trod water near the pinnacle.
Boiled eggs and fresh stone-baked bread was for breakfast that morning. More than one egg was available so Galvin popped another three in to boil whilst Harry, Mackenzie and he ate their original ones. Delicious heather honey made the second course slathered on to more of the crusty stone-baked bread.
“Where’s your mother?”
“Her boat’s gone so she’s most likely gone to physic someone’s cows. We’ve time to go and collect some of the pots before we meet the admiral.”
“Pots?”
“Yes – Lobster pots – we’re licensed for a certain number of pots in order that the stocks are not depleted – if we find a seeded female we make sure it and the eggs go to the conservators – in that way we are rebuilding the depleted stocks around here. Being mages we have an advantage when handling them, muggles frequently get nipped when harvesting. If Harry steers the boat, I’ll deal with the lines.”
“Okay, are we under sail?”
“We can be if you like, we usually use the outboard.”
“I prefer sailing; as well as surfing, we’ve done some at Guéthary.”
Mackenzie offered to handle the sheets – as he had already done a few times with Harry at La Maison.
“Right-ho, sailing it is.”
Harry’s skipper skills were tested to the limit – long fast runs were out – short hauls and heave-tos were the menu. Each small buoy – if the small cork floats could be called by such a grand name – had to be snared, the pot hauled in by a Mobiliarbus type charm and the contents of the pot removed. Then the pot was re-baited and thrown back into the water. Mackenzie also prepared the bait thus speeding up the process. Lobsters that qualified for at least the minimum size were placed in a small tank full of seawater placed amidships. Those under the minimum size were given back to the sea. All the handling of the crustaceans was by cast charms. Harry marvelled at the nuances and delicacy of Galvin’s wand work. A few pots had more than one inhabitant others had none, or had an assortment of non- edible crabs. On average Harry thought that Galvin had two lobsters for each three pots hauled in. By eleven Galvin was satisfied that all the day’s haul was in and they turned around.
Beside a breakwater on St Mary’s there were a number of cages sunk in the sea with their tops showing above the high water mark. A couple of these had the McLaggen badge on them; into these Galvin sorted his catch – Harry learned that the factor and the conservators came around daily to these collection points and collected the catches from the tanks leaving promissory notes for the amount taken. These would be placed in the McLaggen account for later encashment.
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