• 1-Political Axes
• 2-Ch 1
• 3-ch2
• 4-Ch3
• 5-Ch 4
• 6-5
• 7-6
• 8-7
• 9-8
• 10-9
• 11-10
• 12-11
• 13-12
• 14-13
• 15-14
• 16-15
• 17-16
• 18-17
• 19-18
• 20-19
• 21-20

I hope to update this story more regularly (think bi weekly potentially) going forward. Onward we read...Rettavex.

Harry stripped off his Auror robe and handed it off to the waiting butler elf, which popped out of sight the moment the garment touched his grayish, little hands. He spent several long minutes in his study, thinking mostly— of Syl, his team, and the rage he felt towards as yet unknown assailants. Patience was needed for this game; yet, it was a virtue that he had never had in great abundance. But he could wait— he would wait for this new evil to show itself. His life had taught him many things, but none more so than the fact that evil men always wanted to be great, acknowledged and praised for their purported greatness, and one could not be great without being known. That truism usually had evil men in search of power stepping out of the shadows before long.

After imbibing a few gulps of scotch, left waiting by Nippy no doubt upon hearing he was home, he left in search of Draco, needing to see those stormy eyes that could do so much to make a dreary day almost seem happy.

He found his lover, all six feet of him, in their exercise room located down the corridor from the kitchens. Harry almost chuckled as he watched Draco running on the treadmill. When Harry first wanted to incorporate a home gym into the Manor, Draco had looked at him like he was threatening to open a home for exiled centaurs. Yet, the blond acquiesced. Anything for Harry. The room was comprised of all Muggle equipment, free weights, work out benches, stationary bikes, various resistance and pulley systems, and of course, the treadmill.

The only magic in the room were wards on each piece to alert the elves if a user passed out or became endangered, and the floor to ceiling glass covering one wall, which was charmed to depict various scenic images. At first Draco turned his nose up at the mere thought of working out. In his opinion, a pick-up game of Quidditch and vigorous sex amounted to more than enough exercise. Still, after joining Harry a few times for a morning work out, the blond had become quite the fan of the treadmill, telling Harry that it gave him space to think.

Based on the demanding pace Draco was currently running, Harry could only surmise that his lover was in very deep thought at the moment. He took a few moments to soak in the sight of his lover, all long limbs and grace, brow furrowed in concentration as he stared unseeing out at the desert scene playing like a film before him. His hair, once more in a long, heavy braid, swished back and forth across his ass as he ran. The white t-shirt he wore was drenched in sweat and stuck to his lower back in a way that Harry found totally distracting as he continued to indulge himself by staring while Draco remained unaware. The light grey running pants, a gift from Harry last Christmas, were slightly fitted, but contained just enough give as to be comfortable to work out in. The fabric was a cotton, micro-fiber blend and in Harry’s biased opinion, Draco’s ass was made for them.

Deciding that it was time to make his presence known, lest he jump the poor man in mid stride, Harry flicked his hand, ending the desert landscape and garnering Draco’s attention.

“What are you doing? Training for a marathon,” Harry joked as walked over to a surprised Draco, towel in hand. When Draco stepped off the treadmill Harry immediately began dabbing his face a neck with the towel, soaking up trails of sweat, which made his lover shine like wet porcelain.

Halfway through Harry’s tender care, Draco stopped his hands and leaned forward for a chaste kiss.

“Welcome home,” he said, pulling Harry forward into a hug, sweat and all.

Breaking the embrace, Harry asked, “How’d your day go?”

“It went well,” Draco said, averting his eyes and walking over to the side bar, where he grabbed a bottle of water and began gulping it as though he had actually been in the desert.

If there was one thing Harry knew, it was Draco. And at the moment, Draco was avoiding something. Making a quick strategic calculation, Harry tossed aside the towel, which immediately floated over to a charmed hamper, which sucked it out of the air and belched. Draco grimaced at the sound.

“Remind me to get rid of that infernal thing,” Draco groused, before returning to his water bottle.

“You say that every time you work out. Yet, its been here over a year,” Harry said with a chuckle as he walked up behind Draco, wrapping his arms around the blond’s waist and pulling him back against his chest.

“Only because you think it’s funny. I should have hexed Rocco the very day that thing showed up here, birthday gift or not,” Draco spat, trying to remain stern despite the warmth from Harry’s body, which threatened to melt his irritation away like butter left out in the sun.

“Shush, now. No hexing my team. If you do that, they may be tempted to hex back. Then I’d be forced to kill one of them. You don’t want that, right?”

Draco couldn’t help but snort. He had no doubt that Harry would kill for him, despite the obvious joke at Rocco’s expense.

“No, I suppose not. After all they do keep your sorry ass in one piece, which I happen to appreciate. The disgusting hamper can stay, but I am going to silence that uncouth belching.”

Harry just laughed, snuggling closer to Draco, relishing the peppery, yet sweet scent of his lover’s sweat. Without a thought Harry slipped out his tongue and swiped it across an exposed patch of skin at the back of Draco’s neck, his mouth curling into a sneaky smile as he heard an appreciative moan and exhalation from Draco.

“I missed you today,” Harry said, his voice low and sultry in Draco’s ear, before flicking his tongue out again and tasting the soft skin behind his lover’s ear. Draco’s skin was soft, a little salty, and slightly moist, and the combination aroused Harry instantly. There was something about the smell of his lover after a workout that set Harry’s blood on fire.

Draco just murmured a like reply before turning in Harry’s arms so that he could look into those magnificent eyes—eyes that threatened to swallow him whole and never let him go. He needed those eyes— the passion in them, the strength.

After several more deep kisses, which made Draco feel as though he’d pass out from a lack of oxygen, the blond hopped up into the air without a care. He delighted when he felt Harry’s large hands catch him under the buttocks, as he wrapped his long legs around his lover’s waist.

“Shit, Dray,” Harry said, as he pushed Draco back into rail of the sidebar, bracing the blond for harder frottage.

Draco was pulling and tugging at Harry’s shirt, eager to feel the hard muscles underneath. “Off,” he commanded, uncaring that the rail of the sidebar was likely leaving a bruise across his ass cheeks.

Harry pulled back just enough to strip away his shirt, leaving their pelvises connected. Draco’s erection was tenting the running pants he wore, a small wet spot already leaking through the fabric.

Harry brought a hand between them and pressed his palm firmly against Draco’s hardness. “So eager,” he breathed into his lover’s mouth, their tongues snaking around one another’s.

Draco gave a garbled “fuck, yes,” as Harry pushed him further onto the bar before dropping to his knees, taking Draco’s running pants and briefs with him.

Harry inhaled deeply, savoring the musky smell that was equal parts sweat, arousal, and Draco’s natural scent. It was heavenly, and did nothing to help what had to be done next.

Draco’s head was thrown back in abandon, his eyes closed as he waited for the much needed release one of Harry’s blowjobs was certain to bring. Yet after a minute or more of nothing but the cool air stimulating his cock, Draco opened his eyes and looked at Harry with a fierce scowl of frustration.

“Fuck, Potter. What’s the hold up?”

Harry stood, backed away from Draco, bent to pick up his shirt and put it back on, not bothering to answer.

Draco slid off the sidebar, pulling his briefs and his pants back on, his hands shaking from the adrenaline rush of near sex.

“You stopped. Why?” he asked once he had righted his clothing, his heart thumping with a bit of fear. Harry had never, not once, stopped when it came to sex with him. The feeling of rejection was not only startling, but almost overwhelming; still Draco met his lover’s hardened gaze without fail.

“You tell me, Draco,” Harry said, his voice gruff, his stance one of determination.

“What the hell are you on about?!” Draco shouted, in an uncharacteristic show of anger. Harry could always make him lose control. His earlier conversation with Maximillian had simply ripened him for the emotional picking.

“What happened today?” Harry asked, his voice hard and dangerous.

Before he could catch himself, Draco looked away, murmuring, “Nothing happened.”

“Try again,” Harry spat, grabbing Draco by the wrist, forcing eye contact.
Draco huffed, “What makes you think something happened? Gods, Potter, so paranoid.”

Harry released his wrist before circling him as though he were a suspect to be interrogated. Draco hated this side of his lover, yet he knew it was highly effective. He never feared Harry, but that didn’t mean he took Harry lightly. No, that would be a mistake.

“I think something happened because my lover was just about to let me go down on him after a sweaty workout. Do you know how many times in the past that has ever happened?” Harry said scathingly.

Before Draco could respond Harry spat, “None. Every time I’ve more than kissed you chastely after a workout you’ve put me off. The Draco I know finds it distasteful to have me go down on him when he’s all sweaty and in your words, “smelly”. My Draco finds it icky, preferring to perspire anew during sex, not before. Yet, here you are, writhing like a bitch in heat, practically gagging for it. That is how I know something is wrong! The Draco I know would demand a shower and proper grooming before allowing himself to be bedded, no matter how hard I pushed otherwise.”

Draco swore softly and stalked to the far side of the room, gazing into the wall of mirrors at Harry’s reflection. Silence reigned for several painful minutes before Draco dropped his gaze and wrapped his arms around himself, shuddering at his own weakness. He felt Harry’s warm hands smooth up and down his arms, before pulling him into a loose hug from behind.

“Draco, tell me what happened?” Harry whispered, his voice soft yet still commanding. “Did Max…did something happen?”

Draco narrowed is eyes and snorted softly, “No. Not really. I talked. He listened. The End.”

“Tell me,” Harry cajoled, spinning Draco around to face him. He nudged the blond’s head up to look him in the eye, placing a soft kiss on his puffy, peach-colored lips. “What did Max do?”

“He was the perfect picture of restraint and reason. Charming as ever,” Draco said sarcastically, before letting out a long breath. “He just reminded me of something I had always tried to ignore, Harry. I often forget how high the cost is for you…being with me, that is.”

“Cost? I don’t understand.”

“Your future. Have you given thought to it?” Draco asked, his eyes misty and his voice grave.

“Not really, no. I mean… well, I know I won’t be in the field forever, but Draco, I’m not even thirty yet. What’s all this got to do with Max?”

“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know, Harry. Max has always been able to get to me. In that way he is a lot like you, though a lot less welcome,” Draco said, his voice wavering slightly. “He just pointed out a harsh truth, one I would be happy to ignore forever. Though, sadly, that’s not… practical.”

Draco looked at him with piercing eyes, every emotion possible accumulated in his stare as he spoke. “You spoke of taking our relationship to the next level a few days ago.”

Harry nodded, unable to speak around the lump of fear that was slowly rising inside of him like vomit.

“I fear…I fear that would not be wise,” Draco said, extricating himself from Harry’s embrace. “You have so much power Harry. I’m not talking magic. I’m talking presence. There is so much you could do, so much good and so much that is needed. Things I know you dream of, whether you tell me or not. Your heart is too big and too soft for anything less.”

“Draco, what are you saying?” Harry asked, his voice soft and filled with something akin to pain.

“I’m saying…I don’t know what I’m saying, Harry. I just think that, perhaps, if you were unlinked with me, then…then you might be better off.”

Harry felt the room shift, as though the very floor were attempting to disappear from beneath his feet. His heart fell into his stomach before rebounding with anger.

“You’d leave me?” he said in disbelief, his voice no more than a ragged whisper.

“If it meant sparing you, keeping you safe, I would,” Draco said, turning to face his stricken lover, his own heart breaking at the forlorn look in those bright green eyes, that seemed to dim before his very own. “Although, I know my heart would burst from the pain. It’s like Max said, loath as I am to admit, your liaison with me will continue to cost you, both personally and publicly. Look at how we live, Harry. Looking over our shoulders for reporters, for your enemies and mine, dodging uncomfortable questions about our sex life. Don’t you see? Without me, you’re golden again.”

“Fuck being golden!” Harry shouted angrily. “And fuck Max, if all he can do is pass judgments upon you. What the hell does he know, Draco? Huh? What the fuck do I care what everyone else thinks of my private love life? I never wanted to be golden. All I ever wanted was to be happy, to be loved by someone I could call my own. You know that. ”

Harry grabbed him by the biceps, yanking him close, forcing Draco up on his tiptoes, despite his being the taller one. “Don’t do this,” Harry growled, his eyes fierce and watery. “I’m begging you. Don’t.”

“Harry, the cost to you is…” Draco attempted before being silenced by a brutal kiss, Harry’s hands digging into his backside as their bodies were crushed together.

“Fuck the cost. I would pay it ten times over,” Harry said, his voice rough with passion and conviction. “With you is where I want to be, Draco. Never doubt it. I don’t want to know what life has to offer without you by my side. I love you. I am in love with you. Never leave. Please.”

“This is madness,” Draco whispered back against his lips. “You could be anything you want were it not for me.”

“It may be madness, maybe not. All I know is that I would be lost without you,” Harry retorted, his eyes blazing with the type of passion and willpower Draco had come to find enthralling. “I’m far better with you than without. Let’s not test it.”

Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s and nodded, his entire body relaxing against the strong body pressed against his own, the tension of the day drifting away like mist as Harry placed a soft peck against his lips.

“Now go shower. I want to make love, and I can’t do that effectively until you feel clean,” Harry said, smacking Draco on the butt before lightly shoving him off towards the exit.

Later that night, after they had consumed a light supper and wine, Harry and Draco made love— sweetly, tenderly, and without pressure; simply taking their time to enjoy each others bodies and their love within the protective walls of the Manor. The world would always bring its naysayers, but as Harry had whispered hotly into Draco’s ear, in the still of the night before breaching him once more, “We’ve got each other and that’s worth a hell of a lot more than people know.”