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Night Flight	By : Massanie Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 77567 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I'm not making any money with this story

Chapter List
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CHAPTER 12: Ives

CHAPTER NOTES:

Thank you very, very much for the wonderful, reassuring reviews! They did me and this chapter a world of good!

War is imprinting, there is no denying that. It moulds a character in certain but very typical ways and the longer a person is subjected to the repercussions and the more directly impacted he or she is by those acts of war, the more palpable and long-lasting are those changes.

It was undeniable that Harry had been in the literal centre of most events throughout the entire time of the war and even though it had been comparably short and though he was not really traumatized it certainly hadn't left him unaffected. His battle instincts and reflexes were well-marked nowadays and almost ever present when he was in the company of someone he didn't know very well or trust completely; and his prolonged existence as a fugitive had instilled in him a deep appreciation of the simpler luxuries that a regular daily routine could offer: he consciously enjoyed being able to sleep in on a soft mattress in a solid house more than he ever had, he appreciated a good, sometimes even a fancy meal whenever he wished it and which he didn't have to gulp down quickly and he loved taking long, hot baths or a relaxing shower instead of having to resort to cleaning charms.

It had also left him with a rather light sleep.

Therefore it came as no surprise that the soft but incensed voices drifting through the heavy curtains dividing his bed and living room had him wide awake and alert in an instant, while he kept his body relaxed and his breath even and calm in feigned sleep. Still his heart beat madly in his chest like it had done not even three hours ago, when he had once again started up from his sleep due to a vivid nightmare. This time, though, he knew instantly that it wasn't a dream; someone was in an adjoining room to his own and from the sound of it, they were having a heated argument and possibly had less than his well-being in mind.

Upon noticing that he had some precious moments left to hide, Harry's first impulse was to jump up from where he laid so vulnerably on the bed, grab his wand and get into an easily defensible position; resolutely he opened his eyes and swept his gaze over the bedside table with trained efficiency, grazing the dark, the bare wood where his wand should have lain. At that sight Harry swore and cursed mentally, but never one to just give up, he quickly decided to take cover behind the bed or a chair or use whatever hideout this room he was in would offer him and avoid a direct confrontation at all cost while attempting to escape. If his enemy was armed he had no chance to defend himself, no chance at all.

He got as far as sitting up when his mind caught up with his body's natural reaction and he remembered where he was. The room's arching design, the stylish furniture and the fresh, salty smell of the ocean drifting through his wide open windows told him all he needed to know.

Immediately the tenseness drained from his body with a single breath of air that he hadn't even realised he had hold in and he slumped back into the soft down pillows behind him. Raking with one hand through his tousled hair Harry once again listened intently to the voices that appeared to come from behind the curtain to his living area and told himself to not be silly and calm down: who else could it be but Zabini and Malfoy after all, and Harry thought he could be fairly sure that they didn't wish him harm.

But still the hushed voices he heard appeared to be very much annoyed, even though he couldn't understand the words being said: they hissed and swelled and ebbed away again like the distant rumbling of a maelstrom, one Harry hoped wouldn't suck him in and crush and drown him. Because Harry could only think of one single reason why the two Slytherins might be mad at him, and that reason, while not truly scaring him, made him at least apprehensive of their reactions: they must have found out about that letter he had written to Hermione and Ron only the day before. Maybe the house elf he had asked for help had babbled his secret out to its master and now he would probably be put under constant supervision because of it. Maybe they would cancel the meeting with his friends now. Harry sighed while sitting up one again to confront the two Slytherins, only the thought of that made him miserable, he needed, really needed to see them.

Whatever consequences awaited him now, it was the only logical explanation for them to charge into his rooms and be so upset with him - at least Harry couldn't remember doing anything else that would warrant their ire since the evening before.

The evening before. Harry stopped short in his movements to fold back his blanket: coming to think about it, how the hell had he ended up in his room? The last thing he could remember was listening to Blaise and - Zabini and Malfoy, talking quietly while he himself had dozed peacefully in the cosy sun lounger next to them, the soft white pillows had made him feel as if he was resting on a cloud while he enjoyed the fading warmth of the last sun rays. He had been so tired from swimming for so long, his body still recuperating, and their soft murmurs and the rushing of the waves and the light ocean breeze had lulled him to sleep better than any lullaby could have. Harry frowned as he recalled the vague feeling of gentle hands tucking a blanket around his body, the lingering warmth of another person's skin, the comforting, softly stroking touches as creases in the silken fabric were smoothed out and then when even the last of his muscles could not have relaxed any further… had there been lips pressing a kiss onto his hair? He thought that there might have been a soft movement, so soft that it had tickled him and he had tried to shoo the disturbance away with a careless hand wave … someone had chuckled… Harry frowned as he tried to recall more, but everything else seemed befogged. The whole end of the evening seemed to blur into the world of dreams and there was no telling what had been reality and what a far too real figment of his vivacious imagination.

No, Harry really couldn't tell and that was like the splinter of an ice crystal in his bowels. Always, always Harry had been able to trust his instincts and now they seemed to betray him, not keeping him alert when he should have been. That frightened him. He was in a foreign place with no one to trust but his own instincts and if they failed him now…

Or maybe he shouldn't be scared, hadn't he tried to convince himself every so often that he had no reason to be intimidated where the two Slytherins were concerned? God, Harry just didn't know anymore.

But in any case, a defiant little voice in his mind piped up, they really had to stop manhandling him when he was fast asleep. That was just downright creepy.

Harry shook his head once, twice, and tiredly rubbed over his face as he tried to clear his thoughts. He really needed to focus on the problem at hand and such an attitude wouldn't help him confront the two Slytherins.

Taking a deep breath to calm his anxiousness Harry brushed his unruly hair out of his face and slipped out of his king-size bed reluctantly, wondering what he would encounter the Slytherins' accusations with.

In hindsight the letter had been a rash decision, one that he came to regret now that he had been caught (not that he would ever admit it to Draco and Blaise); but how could he have known that the letter would prove to be redundant because they would consent so readily to a meeting with his friends?

Now he would have to face their anger, and probably even a little bit justified if everything was true what they had told him. Owls could be intercepted after all and there was no telling what might happen if other Vykélari found them; what if he had endangered them all?

Those were idle thoughts, of course, Harry knew that. What was done was done and he couldn't take it back any more. Still, he would hate being responsible for causing anyone harm.

His mind thusly occupied, Harry dressed quickly, taking the clothes laid out for him as a sign of goodwill and approached the solid wall of crème coloured damask curtains. When he carefully pushed the heavy fabric aside, his fingers gliding over the in-woven design of slightly paler swirls and what appeared to be a scheme of flowers, he was surprised to find the living area empty: the light flooded room still looked exactly the same as the time Harry had first seen it with its fair, heavily upholstered armchairs and couches, the fake fireplace and several tables and display cabinets with various blooming flowers, exotic art objects and heavy tomes.

But the voices now reached his ears clearly and Harry could definitely make out Draco's growl from across the room. "Come out! Now!"

Confused, Harry gazed towards the open door of the study where the annoyed outcry had come from. Was Dra-Malfoy talking to him? He really didn't think that the blonde would address his lover that way, not after observing them the day before: those two seemed to genuinely care about each other. But if it wasn't Blaise Draco was addressing, who was it?

His answer came a moment later, in the form of another, unknown voice, though the words really baffled him even more.

"I won't let myself be subjected to your fanatic redecoration!" A man hissed, lowly but clearly audible. Harry frowned in confusion: it was obvious that this was not Blaise talking: the voice was not as deep and silky as the Italian's baritone. And what was that about a redecoration?

"If you hadn't persisted on wearing that ghastly shirt for this painting, it wouldn't be necessary. Honestly, that colour is smothering everything else in the whole study. Now leave those bushes, Ives…"

"I am not a thing to be tailored to…"

"But you are deluded…" the blonde sighed dramatically and then there was a small pause before Harry heard Draco take a calming breath and continue somewhat calmer and more politely but still a little bit uppish. "Ives, it might have escaped your notice, but you are a painting and as such a part of the decoration of a room that needs to harmonise with the furniture, stylistically, thematically and in terms of colour! Though in all honesty I have no idea how to integrate you anywhere wearing that … that thing. Honestly, if you just kept still and let me have a professional restorer tarnish the colour of your shirt so that it is … not quite so…" Harry could imagine the blonde wave one elegant hand in a complex, intricate pattern as he searched for the right words, his poise impeccable. "… garish!"

Almost Harry burst out laughing in amusement and overwhelming relief. By all the deities he did not really believe in, it seemed they were not angry with him and that had to mean that his secret was still safe!

Considering everything, he felt foolish now for his earlier bout of paranoia. Why should that elf bother its masters with reports on such a trivial matter as a letter?

But really, did Malfoy honestly argue with a portrait over interior design and fashion sense having the same meaning for a painting?

"It's not garish and I happen to like it." The other man said, obviously miffed now. "And really, it is just a piece of clothing!"

"I really don't know how Adler managed to bear with you…" Draco stated, honest wonder colouring his voice. He really sounded quite mystified, as if he was talking about one of the great enigmas of humankind, Harry thought as he crossed the living area and quietly made his way towards the study, wondering who the unknown portrait was and why he was being brought here. Surely if it was meant to keep an eye on him it would have been hung up in his living area or his bed room?

"He loves me, Draco." The man said in answer to Draco's exclamation, calmly as if he had stated an axiom, an unchallengeable, irrefutable point of reason stifling every possible refutation.

And that made Harry pause along with everyone and everything else, waiting for the sudden silence to be broken, while he fleetingly wondered if Draco felt abashed. Harry himself couldn't help but feel envious with the way that unknown person had spoken, so secure in the love of someone else: it must be wonderful to have someone at your side who would support you through everything and give you all the freedom to let you be yourself, not smother you in expectations.

Unbidden, the moments before the moon had risen a few days ago and triggered his transformation sprung to his mind, the last moments of a life as a relatively normal young wizard (aside from being the involuntary Saviour of the Wizarding World), when the lack of support from the Weasleys concerning the Malfoy trial had been his greatest problem. And wasn't there a touch of irony in that fact? In a way, most of his problems seemed to revolve around that family nowadays.

But still, he would have wished to have at least Ginny's and Ron's acceptance that he needed to stand up for someone he considered to be if not innocent then at least not guilty. He understood that there was an ocean of bad blood and moral and societal differences between those two families that was too wide to have the Weasley's support in such an endeavour, but their acceptance would have been nice.

"Harry?"

Startled Harry looked up from where he stood not three metres away from the door to his study, encountering Blaise's tall form, the dark eyes regarding him concernedly. How long had he been standing there? It surely couldn't have been more than a few moments at the most…

"Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step towards the younger teen. "You look tired. We didn't wake you, did we?"

Immediately Harry shook his head, allowing a smile to tug at his lips. "No," he lied.

"No as if in 'no, you are not alright' or 'no, we didn't wake you'?"

"No as if in 'you didn't wake me'," Harry specified, trying to look sincere. "I'm fine, really."

For a moment Blaise considered him critically and he seemed intent on inquiring further, so Harry interrupted him, not wishing to explain the nature of his nightmares at the moment.

"Anyway, what are you doing here?" He asked, trying to look around the Italian's broad chest - now that Harry knew how much the other teenager loved swimming, that physique really came as no surprise anymore.

The view revealed nothing, but as Blaise looked at him, Harry found himself blinking against the small smile that shone like a sunlit black agate geode, open and bright and dazzling, which he was given as the Italian gestured towards the study. "We have a little surprise for you. Or rather: a surprise guest. Would you like to meet him?"

Before the Gryffindor had a chance to answer, Draco appeared behind Blaise, his gaze curiously guarded, his posture a little bit tense and Harry wondered when he had started noticing things like this on his former school enemy. "Good morning, Harry."

"Morning." He murmured in turn, his brow still creased as he regarded the blonde, trying to make sense of the mixed signals he was getting. It seemed odd that the two Slytherins should be so eager and yet so reluctant at the same time. "Soo … who is it?"

"I know that you said you didn't need to speak with someone who had lived through a similar situation," Draco began a little bit hesitantly and yet neither his voice nor his posture would have bespoken that he was not completely unperturbed, only the one second too many that he had waited before answering. "But one of my ancestors wished to speak with you nonetheless, to help you with all of this and answer any questions you might still have."

"We would have hung up the portrait in your living area as you'd be certainly more comfortable there but Draco thought you might not appreciate the loss of privacy." Blaise said not without a sparkle of amusement tingeing the timbre of his voice.

"I personally hate portraits in my private apartments." Draco continued as he shot his fiancé an annoyed glance. "There is nothing worse than your family spying on you in the one place that should be yours alone. And it is actually traditional to not have portraits in locations where they might pose a security vulnerability."

His head held high, Draco turned towards Harry once more "Of course that would normally include the study, too. If you want to, we could have the portrait brought to one of the parlours…"

Harry gaped, couldn't do anything but. He had almost never experienced them as anything else than overbearing, obnoxious, smug and conceited, vain and utterly egoistical idiots. This amount of consideration - and even though Draco tried to be nonchalant about it and trivialize his efforts, Harry knew better after Blaise's remark - it was just so … unreal and some part of him (the one that was not stunned into complete, heavy silence) was still searching for the catch. Was this yet another way to influence him and make him choose them as his mates? Or were they sincere?

Warily Harry considered them, trying to gauge their expressions. If only Slytherins weren't in the habit of erecting masks of emotional void that looked as natural as a second skin…

"You want me to speak with him? Why?"

Blaise raised one hand in a placating manner. "Don't feel obliged to do so, Harry. But if you have questions you don't feel comfortable asking us, Ives, being a submissive himself, would surely be able to help you."

Harry hesitated, he was already in a minority here with the two Slytherins and he really didn't need another one to put pressure on him or trying to influence him. But right now the three of them had come to an unspoken armistice after Blaise and Draco had promised Harry a meeting with his friends; it was awkward and fragile, but it was there nonetheless and Harry thought that at least the other two teenagers wouldn't do something to really endanger it. If this Ives was here to try and win influence over him, then Harry would be prepared. This was a game two could play after all and if a little bit of acting would enable him to get more information and with it a more equal standing in this mess, then he was all in favour for it.

"Okay," Harry consented, "I will talk with him."

And with that, he pressed himself past Blaise, who turned to escort him into the study with one hand hovering over the small of his back, Draco preceding them.

Harry didn't know what he had expected to see as Draco stepped pointed towards a large painting to the side of the door with grand gesture and a "Harry, meet Ives Malfoy" but certainly not the handsome young man who looked at him with a mild, warm smile from out of a sea of rose bushes, the soft champagne colour of the blossoms bleeding into a bright red at the edges of each petal. At least he never would have guessed that the platinum blonde Slytherin who was a self declared enemy of the red haired Weasleys would have someone in his family tree with such a multihued mane of autumn hair.

"Finally Mr Potter," The portrait smiled, "and I thought you would leave me waiting here. I'm pleased to meet you." He inclined his head slightly in greeting.

"I'm sorry he looks so out of place. Ives was most difficult and refused to cooperate." Draco said as he watched Harry. "I will do something about it if you want."

"Or you can have the house elves redecorate the study however you like." Blaise interrupted, raising an eyebrow at his fiancé, making Harry wonder for a moment what he was missing.

"It's fine like this." Harry murmured, and it honestly didn't bother him at all that the deep blue shirt was a glaring splash of colour in the otherwise sober and unpretentious room. He had thought it too stark anyway; of course it was a study and shouldn't be distracting, but really, Harry was rather used to chaos, having lived in a boys dormitory for so long and having spent so much precious time at the Burrow in Ron's room or the twins'; and one couldn't really say that living as a fugitive had been in any way conductive in bringing him up to be more orderly. Harry just couldn't help himself, but somehow it always reminded him of the Dursleys when an apartment was too neat; after all wasn't it alright if one could see that there were real people living in it?

"Alright, it is your room after all." Blaise said quickly and Harry thought for a moment that the Italian had merely answered so fast to keep his lover from saying anything, at least Draco looked as if it almost pained him to leave the room like this. It wasn't something that Harry could sympathise with but if it meant so much to the Slytherin, he wouldn't be opposed to a redecoration; whatever Blaise said, Harry didn't feel as if these rooms were his.

He would have offered Draco free rein, had not Ives interrupted that moment, making them all turn to him once more. "Draco, Blaise, why don't you have the house elves send a light breakfast up for Mr Potter and leave us alone so we can talk undisturbed?"

Immediately Harry knew that this was not planned: next to him both of his hosts stiffened, their faces hardening into cold, unreadable marble. Curiously Harry watched from them to the portrait and back, and it made him intrigued: this Ives, this ancestor of Draco's seemed so unorthodox for a Malfoy, open and yet guarded, confident without being conceited and even though he was nothing more than a painting, it seemed he knew how to play them.

"We wanted to take Harry to the winter garden for breakfast." Blaise said a moment too late with a hint of a strained smile. Were they uncomfortable with leaving him alone with the other submissive, Harry wondered, astonished; but why then would they have brought him here?

"You'll love it!" Draco assured him. "It is full of tropical plants that offer so much to see for a Vykélari's eyes."

Before he could answer, Ives interjected. "I'd like to speak alone with Mr Potter, Draco. And later today there won't be much time. Besides I think Adler intended to speak with the two o you, so you might as well leave the concerns of the submissives to the submissives."

After what seemed like an eternity of icy staring, Draco finally nodded. "As you wish, Ives. Harry, if you want to, we can meet you afterwards and teach you a little bit about flying. I think we should still wait with the magic lessons until you are a little bit more rested."

"I don't need to learn how to fly." Harry said stubbornly through his bafflement over their behaviour. "I need to learn how to control my magic so that I don't attack random people."

His face easing into a gentle smile Blaise leaned forward to brush a lock of black silk out of the Gryffindor's eyes, the affectionate expression in the dark eyes causing tinge of red to colour Harry's cheek. "You should learn both, Harry. But if you don't want to, why don't you join us on a broom? I have some of the best models here."

"Even though he doesn't like them all that much." Draco teased.

"But you do." Blaise simply said, turning to press a deep kiss onto Draco's lips.

Harry turned away in unease towards the portrait, blushing as he saw Ives watching him with interest.

"And Harry does, too. Now come, Dragon, we lingered long enough. I'll have breakfast sent up to you, Harry."

And with that the two Slytherins left, leaving Harry alone with Ives.

In the sudden silence, Harry felt awkward, not knowing what to say, what to ask, how to behave. He was the only known submissive currently alive and truth be told, he had wished to get the advice of someone who damn well knew what he had went through, but could he trust this stranger?

Slowly he made his way to the desk opposite of the painting and the door to sit down, wishing that the desk was closed at the front and wouldn't leave him so open to the portrait's view because he had acquired a habit of jiggling with his left leg whenever he was nervous and sitting and he wouldn't be able to do that now without betraying his feelings to Ives. He just knew that he would be all fidgety in no time…

"You know, I didn't learn how to fly until almost a year after my transformation, not until Adler found me." The red-head said lightly as Harry sat down, his sharp eyes watching him attentively.

"For almost a year I managed to hide what I had become."

Surprised, Harry looked up. "You didn't want to be a Vykélari?"

"No," the other submissive answered, "not a submissive one at least. It was not what I had wished for my life."

Harry lowered his gaze, not really sure what to think of that. At least he probably had his answer now why Blaise and Draco hadn't wanted him to talk to Ives alone for the first time.

"But nonetheless you got mated to a Malfoy." He said and wondered if that was what he was supposed to learn: that there was no way out, that he had no choice in the end but to mate them.

"Yes I did." Ives said, his voice mild and soft. "Adler … he made me an offer I couldn't reject."

"He blackmailed you?" Harry exclaimed, horrified. He had always known that the Malfoy's were in no way a line of saints, but to do something like that… hadn't he said earlier that his husband loved him?

"He bought me over, in a way." Ives corrected with a somewhat tight smile.

Disappointment drenched Harry like cold rain and again he turned away from the other. Somehow he had expected better of Ives after what he had heard earlier. The submissive seemed so confident and down-to-earth; not at all like someone who was susceptible to bribery.

His emotions must have been openly visible on his face because only a moment later Ives said with a voice like steel "don't you judge me for yielding to his conditions, Mr Potter! You may judge me for getting into the situation that forced my hand for that was indeed my mistake, but dare not judge me for righting it in the only way that was left to me!"

Harry kept his gaze lowered, not wishing to encounter the heated glare that he would surely see on Ives' face, nor wishing to talk about the other's problems, when he had enough of his own to deal with.

"I was forced into that mateship, not by my husband, but by circumstances. You are not. And I am here so that this won't change."

An uneasy snort escaped Harry's lips and he drew up his legs onto the chair. "I don't know, I feel pretty much pressured right now, by circumstances and my would-be husbands."

For some moments, Ives let the silence between them spread as he considered the younger submissive. "Do you know why I asked to be brought here and be able to speak to you?"

When Harry didn't answer, Ives continued nonetheless, his voice urgent. "Because Blaise and Draco said they would never force you, that they would never mate you if it was against your will."

Harry looked aside. They had already told them that, and it wasn't as if he thought they had lied to him, but still "they won't let me go, either." He bit his lip as he heard how bitter he sounded.

Ives sighed in the painting. "Mr Potter, the laws concerning Vykélari mateships are horribly outdated, because there simply hadn't been any submissives in the last two hundred years, so no one bothered to change them. Dominants are allowed to kidnap you and use whatever method necessary to force you to mate, in many cases dominants did blackmail submissives into mateships by threatening loved ones and were never convicted. Who would you turn to, Mr Potter? Who would you willingly endanger?"

Shaking his head Harry laid his arms around his knees, hugging them close. No, he didn't want to endanger anyone but … god, it was just such a mess.

"If I told you now how to force Blaise and Draco to let you go, would you leave?"

Instantly Harry looked up with an incredulous expression; was there even a question? "Of course I would!"

He really couldn't believe the two dominants and Ives didn't at least exaggerate when they talked about what other Vykélari dominants would and could do; well that was a question he could ask Hermione the following day…

Ives nodded calmly, as if he had expected that answer. "Then I will offer you a deal. You will give my descendant and his fiancé the benefit of a doubt and an honest chance to court you and you will allow them to teach you about the ways of Vykélari with an open mind. And in exchange I will tell you how to leave them for good on the 31st of August this year, one day before the new school term starts. I hear Hogwarts will be reopened by then and allow for all those who weren't able to continue their education during the war to return for an eight year. In Hogwarts you will be a lot safer than anywhere else aside from a dominant Vykélari's home."

Open-mouthed Harry stared at the other submissive, not quite able to believe his ears. Was this offer a hoax? His eyes hushed from one point at the wall to another only to immediately abandon it again as if he was searching for something, maybe an anchor of some kind.

"51 days, Mr Potter, then you will be free to go wherever you want. And in the meantime your friends will be safe and you will have the possibility to learn about your new powers. What do you say?"

An honest chance. That was all Ives had asked for his freedom. And he would have to accept his inheritance but only for those 51 days.

"Yes" he breathed, feeling a little bit feint. After what had seemed like an eternity of bad news and even bleaker prospects, this … this was exhilarating. "Yes!" He repeated a little bit stronger now, a bright grin tugging at his lips insistently.

"Very good, Mr Potter." Ives smiled at him. "Very good."

"You promise, right?" Harry asked, still grinning from one ear to the other.

"I give you my word." The red-head grinned back, laying his right hand over his heart. "My word as a Prewett!"

Come again? Harry thought, Merlin, that guy managed to baffle and baffle him again. "A Prewett? But…"

Molly Weasley's maiden name was Prewett…

"Yes, I know," Ives smiled a little bit sheepishly, pushing his long cascade of hair back over his shoulder. "You know one of my elder brother's descendants. His line never showed the active submissive traits though, and now the male line is extinct after Molly's brothers Gideon and Fabian died. I was very sorry to hear that."

Strangely, Harry believed him without a doubt. "Did you ever meet them?"

"Yes, I did. They had another painting of me which I sometimes visited. It was kept for possibly emerging submissives so that I might guide them after their inheritance, but that proved to be unnecessary in the end." Ives frowned thoughtfully. "I don’t know what happened to it, I can't visit it anymore and I can't help but think that Molly destroyed it after her brothers' murder. She was … uncomfortable having the painting of a Malfoy in her home and I guess it reminded her too much of what she had lost."

"They never spoke of you." Harry said, more to himself then to Ives, but the other man laughed nonetheless. "Why would they, Mr Potter? I died almost 300 years ago."

"Oh." Harry said, feeling a little bit foolish. Of course the other submissive would be rather old, after all hadn't Draco and Blaise told him that the last submissive had lived and died all but two centuries ago? Yet he simply hadn't thought of it...

"You know, you can call me Harry."

Ives smiled. "Another deal then: I will call you Harry and you will never call me Malfoy. I love my husband, learned to love him, really, and I loved many of our common descendants, but aside from Draco I have grown to really dislike the younger generations."

Harry grimaced. "I know what you mean, Lucius Malfoy is…"

"Horrible, I know. If not for Adler's painting threatening him with terrible revenge, I'm sure he would have burnt my painting already. He wanted me to spy on the living Prewetts through my other painting during the first war and when I refused … well, he pretty much has hated me since then."

"He wanted you to what?"

When the house elves finally brought breakfast, Ives was still entertaining Harry with more or less embarrassing stories about the respective Malfoys and continued to do so throughout breakfast until Draco and Blaise returned a little bit over an hour later and even though his hosts threw murderous glares at the cheekily grinning, red-haired submissive, Harry felt lighter than he had in a very long time.

CHAPTER END NOTES:

I am so, so sorry that there was no kiss Morianna, I really tried but the opportunity just didn't come up. But I already have something in mind, so…

Anyway, I dearly hope you liked the chapter and if so, please leave a review!
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Night Flight