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Harry Potter and The Sanguine Brother's Bond	By : OranjeJoe Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7043 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
A/N: Going to see Part II tonight! So excited I can barely handle it.

This also comes with a bit of moroseness (you may have assumed from my writing, that most things do). I realized that the final moments of this movie are the final moments of my childhood. Despite being 19, this story, and many others I suppose, connect me to my child self. And now its over. :[

But this isn't, not by a long shot. They still have so much angst to get over. I know sometimes this gets a little sluggish, but I really try to write as authentically as possible from all these places of being. So yeah, I might beat you over the head with all their multitudinous emotions, but that's how it feels for them too. So just suck it up ya pansies, killing siberian giants would be an easier task than being a hormonal teenage wizard hero/anti-hero.

Let the butthurt ensue!

-ooo-

They played three games of chess, speaking a little more as each game passed. Still, Harry lost every single one, even after all these years. He relished in the familiar and comforting feeling of the pieces beneath his hand (except for the bishop, who had always been quite fussy about being handled) and the calm that settled about his mind as he subsumed himself in strategy.

They started off with Quidditch, Ron's usual topic of breech, earning a few muffled laughs from Draco. Then Ron grew steadily deeper, as deep as you could go with Ron. The twins were up to their usual pranks, and apparently some of their more experimental products somehow found Ginny at the worst of times. She had been quite morose all summer, not speaking much and just generally being aversive.

He caught Draco curling his lips at the mention of Ginny, but as their eyes met, he turned away and seemed to sink in on himself. He'd always known Draco to be a thinker, but until recently it had never occurred to Harry that it might be about anything more than pureblood prattle. Ron on the other hand, he had a different kind of thinking, non-linear and strictly unacademic in style. It was probably to do with that fact that he had never once thought about the act of thinking itself, the awareness of being a thinker.

Intuition, Harry supposed, was probably the most apt word for it. It certainly explained his ability to pull a check mate out of the deepest corners of his ass, thought Harry with mild furry as he lost yet another game.

"Don't beat yourself up about it mate, you're getting better. Plus, I hear you aren't at the top of your game."

"That's putting it mildly…" Silence fell a little bit, and Ron looked on imploringly, hoping that Harry wouldn't make him pry. Harry on the other hand, was in need of a distraction, talking about his pussy-footed attempts at keep the Dark Lord out of his mind was only going to make him think about it further. Better to just keep the crazy all locked up inside, so everyone else didn't have to bear the burden of his insanity. So he decided to change the tack of the conversation a bit, back to things that were less consequential.

"I really should go and see Ginny, we haven't really talked since we decided to just be friends."

Ron looked at him for a moment, and Harry swore he could see at least three emotions playing across the conscious part of Ron's mind. He saw confusion, over the status of Ginny and Harry, anger, in that fiercely protective way of his, and then disappointment that Harry didn't want to talk about truly serious matters.

"And how did that come about?" He asked, finally. Draco too, seemed to stir from his maudlin existence.

"Could you imagine kissing her? Being intimate with your own sister?"

Ron pulled a disgusted face before settling into thought for just a moment. He seemed consternated for the merest of moments, before like light, he flashed a grin.

"Well I suppose that's just testament then."

"Testament to what?" asked Harry, relieved that Ron had taken the news well, but also confused. In his mind this news had a fifty-fifty chance of being something for Ron to get at least a tiny bit feisty.

"To how well we've sewn you in of course. If you can't kiss my sister, than you must be my brother." He grinned cheekily, and for the first time in longer than Harry cared to remember, they both laughed their hearts out. When finally they ceased, Ron began to pack up his things, and was soon standing by the door.

"Well, it's been nice knowing you Harry, I'll be sure to tell Hermione about how deathly terminally ill you are. Not surprised the med-heads haven't seen any improvement though, clearly the dementia must be pretty potent if you don't mind being in here, with him."

Harry knew Ron was only joking about Harry being on death's door, ready for the taking, but when it came to Malfoy, he knew Ron was dead serious. And for some reason (Harry knew it to be his urge to have that kiss again, but he squashed that thought with speed) Harry didn't like the tone of Ron's sarcasm.

"Hey now, be nice Ronald, or I will have to tell Hermione that you've been badmouthing her newest study partner. And it was nice to see you too, one final time." He waved Ron out with a dramatic flourish, and was left, in the absence of his friend, feeling an odd mixture of things. He was sated, calm, but also apprehensive about what kind of anger lay deep in the subconscious grindings of Ron's brain.

A dark tone cut across is overall feeling of niceness, and he turned rather sour again within an instant of it reaching his ears.

"Do you two always take it upon yourselves to act like such complete bafoons?"

"I suppose I can always trust you to bring me back into the crushing reality of my mortal fate then, can't I?" Said Harry sharply, biting into the air with his words.

As if his words had actually bitten into the blond's supple flesh, Malfoy deflated once more, looking extremely mollified.

Flipping from spite to guilt in an instant, Harry offered "I used to be like him, or I thought I could be."

Draco looked stern for a moment, before biting at Harry's hook. "And when was that?"

"When I first became a wizard, the very short few months I spent as an unburdened youth. For the first time I thought I might be able to let go of - of some of my past. And then, well you know the rest."

Having just learned of the complete enormity of his dark past, anyone else's whining was intolerable. A distinct trickle in his hands told Draco his blood was boiling.

"Oh yes, hearing that fat lump of flesh you call your cousin pleasure himself at night, yes that must have caused some deep psychosis. How ever did you live through it?"

Malfoy could have sworn he felt another surge of magical aura blast out from Potter at the end of his sardonic retort, but he was still a bit loopy and not fully in control of his perception. But then he saw Harry shaking, and realized that he may have gone to far.

"What the fuck, Malfoy! One minute you're kissing me, and the next you can't keep your filthy pureblood mouth from spewing bile all over the damn place. Get the fuck over yourself."

A mollified silence fell over the both of them, until Draco said, in rather hushed tones,

"We weren't meant to be friends anyway, so why don't we just quit now. Quit before this becomes just another scar for the both of us to carry around."

"Oh so you're just going to run away then? I always knew you were a fucking coward. You can spout things off about being lonely and ready to accept a real bond into your life. But really you're just scared shitless of being tied down to something other than your own ridiculous pretentions." Harry finished, looking slightly flushed and a little out of breath. In his eyes Draco saw clearly how deeply the loss of their friendship was going to cut into Harry, and he looked away, unable to bear the pain. He didn't even have space in his mind to think about the truth of Harry's words.

He buried himself in his bed, hoping that Harry would eventually give up waiting for a response, knowing that if he just cut away the bond now, they would both be the better for it. He would just have to morn the loss of what ever that kiss might have brought in his future, some other time. He fought hard to bite back the tears, as Harry rolled over and turned his back on Malfoy in a huff.

No matter how hard he tried, Draco could not help but feel the echo of Harry's body hot and warm beside him, under the covers, wet and naked in the bath, and shivering with life as they held each other during the kiss. He let himself cry freely now, truly realizing that he was going to have to nurse these memories forever, the closest he would ever get to loving Harry Potter.

He was to be at his father's mercy for eternity.

Dumbledore returned to find them both laying upon the rock again, that flat rock in the middle of a sea of loneliness. It was a wonder they hadn't realized by now how close they were in that terrible darkness, the calm between the storms of life. All they need was to reach out and touch, overcome the barrier that held them on the tantalizing edge of forever and passion.

Dumbledore took a seat in the darkest corner of the room, but not before transfiguring the bound up floor mat that they called a seat into something for comfortable. He settled his great bones, and drew up his hands so that his elbows rested on the arm rests, and his palms faced each other across the distance.

Slowly, he began to move them ever so slightly closer together, feeling immediately the loose limit of his magical aura. Minutes passed, and he drew his hands steadily through the increasingly dense levels of himself, feeling the sweep of inertia that came after breaking through each boundary. And like the two boys who lay alone, his hands reached the innermost sanctum, and he felt as the storms, the past, the future, and the calm between, the present.

Watching the room now, his eyes aglow with the fortune of time, he looked deep into the thing that was Draco Malfoy, seeing at once the dark roots that wound deeply into his past, like creeping wet vines that bound him against all happiness. They throbbed with the pain of all this sad boy's life, but even more, the summation of all those past. All the dark evil in this world, Draco's curse connected him to this taint, and Dumbledore could see vile blood red swimming up through the dark vines.

It throbbed with a sickening sensual haste, beating faster now in anticipation of what was to come. So dense were the tendrils of all that is alone and forgotten in this world, thrusting and weeping deep and tangled all around the boy, that it was hardly possible to see anything clearly. Try as he might, in that meditative self delusion of not trying, but trying to flow in that direction, Dumbledore could not see into the misty past of Draco Malfoy.

So original, primal, was the curse that wound around this boy, he knew only one thing. That he had seen it before. Though never as bloody, as carnal as he was seeing now. Before his very eyes the pustules of dank blood burst and began to leek out their tepid liquid.

An ancient heart, the core of darkness, beat somewhere in the great distance of time, and now, here, the flow had become irregular, like the dying bevels of flesh still beating in some great dirty beast. It came fast, shooting out thick globs of red blood, coating the floors and collecting in a rank pool about his feet. Other times it would seem to coagulate, damning up the putrid boils for a moment, until they came sputtering back into flow. The faint blue lips were fluttering with each shaky breath that passed the boy's lips, quivering as he keened softly in his sleep.

The sun was beginning to come up now, shinning a feeble light into the room, doing nothing to dispel the mesmerizing but terrifying vision that held the old man in its clutches. It was all the elder wizard could do to keep from collapsing at the enormity of what he was seeing, and yet still he did not know what any of it meant. His mind was swimming now, overwhelmed with the bleeding behemoth that lay gasping before him, curling around its victim with a sluggish but visceral predation.

He was just about to release his mind from this bloody slobbering thing, when something shone for just an instant in the morning light, a small glow clutched in Draco's hand. Wading through the sloshing blood, grown cold around his knees, Dumbledore made his way over to Draco's bedside.

The area surrounding the glowing light was curdled over with layers of crusted puss, scarred and bleeding. Thickly grown was the nest of sickened skin, nearly as old as the boy, sewn into his wand arm at some dark point in his youth.

Malfoy let out a long low moan in his sleep, in evil synchronicity with the constricting tendons of the fleshy mass. So deep were the vibrations of his keening, that Dumbledore nearly lost his state in the turmoil.

Around his ankles, he could see slick white tendrils reaching out of the blood red lake, seeking new holds for the evil of this rotting heap. He batted them away with a flick of his wand, hearing their high squeals squelching and bubbling back into dark oblivion. Steam was rising now from this putrid mess, and Dumbledore could feel the dank smell filling his mind. Even through the haze that was building inside his mind, he managed to make out the small metal medallion that Draco was clutching in his delicate trembling hands.

All around this thing the black bulbous veins refused the fraternize with the pale expanse of draco's skin, falling away against the feeble light. It too seemed to beat with it's own pulse, driving back the foul blackness with a tentative strength. Some old forgotten thing learning again it's relevance in this world.

He'd seen all that he could see for now, and it was time to return to typical perception, to let the back if his mind ruminate on the roots of this dark past. Letting the picture of this whole event fall evenly into place as he went about the day, unhurried and unfettered by the swirl and grind of the concerned nature of the present.

Letting out a deep breath, he pulled apart his palms and watched as the entire machination of his trance fell away on the wisps of an invisible breeze.

The blonde nurse, the one that had been passing by all day, came in to offer him some tea. Her mind was practically leaking with the smell of pink fluffy felines, and Dumbledore did not accept any of her offers, told her not to comeback. He would arrange for a different nurse, perhaps someone from the order. Tonks would probably be more than happy to do it, she'd been dropping by Grimmauld happily enough.

The old man let his gaze wander from his grizzled dead hand, the one that had saved his life in a bout of chivalrous irony, to the two boys still lain stricken on a rock at sea. So alike in misery and opportunity, so full of magic, just as he had been in his youth, just as Grindlewald.

The sun began to rise in ernest now, and the first golden rays if the morning suffused the close space, swirling warmth into the air, mixing like the amber clouds of tea in his lap. The wizened man leaned back into his chair, letting the heat of the day smooth over the roughness of the nostalgic waves that were washing over him.

He must send a letter.

-ooo-

Harry awoke with a start. The same feeling of having just been rushed though something intestinal, that he'd been waking up with everyday lately. He looked over at Malfoy who looked positively ghoulish, feeling his mind flash with vague impressions of dark vines. With a great effort, and despite his morning stiffness, Harry hauled himself to the side of the bed and peered over the edge.

Dumbledore chuckled softly from what was now a soft plush chair, and Harry realized how tight knit his face had been. Just a minute ago, he would have sworn to have seen blood on the floor.

"He is alright, Harry, at least for the moment."

"So... Then all of that, that was all just in my head? The blood on the floor, the vines all -" Harry gestured vaguely to Malfoy and around his neck.

Dumbledore simply nodded and then said, "Sometimes though, the most potent insights are brought about by the power of foresight."

"Imagination you mean, none of it turned out to be real."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, looking from Harry to Draco with a questioning glance. "Look at him and tell me none of it was real. Tell me he isn't suffering, and that wasn't just your mind giving it a shape. Just as your mind gives shape to your magic, so it is the same with everything."

Harry thought for a moment, letting Dumbledore's words fly to the back of his mind and settle. It was far too dense to really comprehend this early in the morning, and besides, he would need to really have the experience again for it to all make sense.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are really getting at, professor. Haven't you written a book or anything? I should hope I will have the time to write a book in my life."

"And what would that book be about, Harry?"

"Don't think I won't pester you about the book, sir, just because you've changed the topic. And I'm not sure yet. Isn't the point of growing up to find something worth writing a book about?"

"Hmm, I suppose it is. Perhaps I will write a treatise on the efficacy of lemon drops."

"And what exactly is the efficacy of lemon drops?" Draco was pulling himself out of the dugout he'd worn into his mattress, looking quite the old curmudgeon.

"Well, Draco, I suppose you'll have to read the book to find out."

Draco leaned back into his freshly plumped pillows with a 'humph', looking positively brimming with the excitement of learning the deepest secrets of muggle candies.

Harry, of course, knew there was nothing at all special about lemon drops, and laughed along with Dumbledore. Not that Draco was really all that concerned, probably just a little now, in the grogginess of the morning.

So the they just settled into waiting, waiting for the next scheduled event of fate. They sipped the tea that Dumbledore offered them, lazing about in a quiet lassitude. Harry had a small moment of panic, the kind that took hold of a mind that felt itself stuck. For a moment he felt as though he had been sitting in this hospital his entire life, trading snipes with Draco, and making cryptic conversation with his headmaster. Although, his life had been so absurd lately, that the general feeling was the same, nothing was real, nothing he did really mattered.

Hell, he'd run off for three weeks, and everyone seemed very willing to pretend it hadn't happened. Voldemort, and Malfoy, they were the only ones who kept him honest. And Dumbledore too, but only because he had such faith in him. These were comforting and terrifying thoughts, as he supposed the best always were.

He looked over at Draco, halfway determined to decide how he felt about the proud blonde. Also halfway hoping something would happen to distract him. And, another non-existent half of him realized that nothing true could be decided so fast. The real truth of the universe lay in the subtle waves of unintelligible thought and emotion.

So he let this take hold of his breathing, and it was probably some sort of love, but it wasn't worth thinking about. Now that Draco had called them over before even being done.

He heard a soft pop at the hospital apparition point, perking up at the thought of fresh company. He heard a crash and the familiar sound of Nymphadora's apology, followed by the warm deeps tones of Remus Lupin. By the time they rounded the corner Harry had plastered a smile on his face, and a quick glance at Draco told him the boy was also anticipating something.

They came in looking thoroughly disheveled, Tonks with her mishap, and Remus with his usual haggard way about him. Still, the warmth in their togetherness brightened the room. Remus made his way over to Dumbledore, handing him a small manilla envelope.

"That's the last I'm afraid, it seems someone has let my identity slip. I'm afraid it may have been one of my former students. Recognized my smell."

Despite the hushed tones, Harry heard every word, and was immediately thankful that Lupin's undercover work was over.

"Well, that's good, I suppose it's time for your life to quiet down a bit isn't it?" Harry called from across the room, not caring that they knew he'd overheard.

"I agree." Said Dumbledore, and Tonks mimicked him with enthusiasm. They all turned to Draco, who shrugged unceremoniously.

"I suppose you'll be coming back to teach now that Snape is no longer allowed outside during the day." He drawled.

The group turned to look at Dumbledore in unison this time, to find a smile and a nod. "If you'll take the position back that is. I'm afraid I haven't had too much time to round up anyone this summer."

"That is wonderful news!" said Harry at the top of his unused vocal cords. Which is to say that he wasn't very loud. But still, the look on Lupin's face went from doubt to assuredness in an instant.

"Slughorn is still staying on then?" Asked Lupin with an inquisitive air.

"Yes, and I've already asked him about making the wolfsbane. He said it would take him awhile to get used to brewing it, wont be quite as good as some of Severus' finest work. And he'll charge you too I'm afraid, but not as much as a commercial potion."

Lupin was caught between relief and being crestfallen, but smiled none the less and turned to hug Tonks tightly.

Harry was watching Malfoy, wondering about what he might say. If he was going to offer his help again. His pale lips were drawn into a tight line, in step with the knit of his brow. Even if they weren't going to be friends (mother fucker) Harry was determined to be supportive, and hoped that the words that were trembling on his delicate flesh would be let free before the moment passed.

His heart was beating in his ears with the perceived drama of the moment, now was the time to act, now was the time to make amends. Now was the time to break out of this stagnation and become a part of the world as a true person. Harry couldn't be yet, he still had to be a hero, but he wasn't about to let Draco miss his chance. He willed this to Draco, urging his thoughts to pass right into Draco's mind.

Silver eyes turned to look at his own green portals, his face tight as if against the deluge of mental power from Harry. Everyone else seemed to notice as well, for they were back to staring, and though for a moment Harry saw fear and cowardice in those grey eyes, he soon gave up and sank back, resigned to the fact that Harry wasn't going to let him not do this.

"Let me do it, professor." Mute silence followed, and Harry gave him another look to coax out the motive.

"He never told you, never told anyone, but I've been helping him make it for years. I know how to do it almost better than he does, and I won't do it bitterly either. It will be made with compassion, that I can promise." He smiled, probably to keep himself from crying, and Harry's heart broke with the realization of what it would mean to Malfoy, to be allowed to do something worth existing for.

Silence passed, and so too came a little bit of panic as Malfoy realized he hadn't quite sold them yet. He fidgeted nervously with the hem of his sheet, before pressing on.

"And towards the end, he even let me help with the potion he was giving you, headmaster. He never told me who they were for, only that I needed the practice, if I was to become a potions master."

"And is that still what you intend to do, Draco?" Asked Dumbledore, without the slightest bit of surprise at any of this news.

Draco nodded enthusiastically, hoping Dumbledore would tip the scales in his favor.

-ooo-

And so it was, Lupin and Tonks agreed, at Dumbledore's behest that they would let Draco brew the potion, this month at least.

Draco had sat up fully now, with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. "We've got to get to Diagon Alley then, I don't have any of the ingredients, and Severus was running low towards the end of last year."

Suddenly he lay back again, bringing his hands up to his face. Harry tried not to focus too much on the pale expanse of perfect skin that was exposed over the top of Malfoy's Pajamas. "But I- the entire fortune is being held at Gringots."

"I've already told you Malfoy, I'll be buying all the ingredients for potions this year, as payment for you tutoring me." He didn't really know how this was going to work out, but knew very well that Lupin was just as bad at accepting charity as he was. They weren't going to just let him pay for it if there wasn't a reason.

Malfoy sat up with about a million emotions flashing across his features, they moved by so quickly that the whole thing quickly turned into a deadpan. Dumbledore chuckled, and Lupin and Tonks looked scrutinizingly between the both of them.

"Don't think I've forgotten about our arrangement. This is payment for my teaching you the Patronus, seeing as you turned out to be awful at occlumency."

It took a few moments for Draco to comprehend what Harry had said. He blanched and looked for a minute as if he was going to say something snide. Instead, he lay back on the bed, muttering "Of course, how could I forget."

It had been a long couple of weeks since he had endevoured to teach Malfoy the patronus. It had been a long couple of weeks since his life had had any sort of normalcy. It had been a long couple of weeks since he could be sure that the next day would be ...consistent.

Harry just wanted to know that his emotions could be consistent from day to day. That other people could be consistent. That fucking Malfoy could be consistent.

And now Lupin was beaming at him. "Well, it seems a few of my students will be quite ahead of the game this year, I'll have to restructure some of my lesson plans. Maybe you can help me when we get to the Patronus? I hear we could all stand to learn something from you."

Harry blushed, trying to escape the smile of his professor, and heard Draco roll over with a groan.

"Ever the bashful one, eh?" Tonks was standing on the other side of the bed now, and Harry, in his embarrassment, felt this whole hospital thing quite uneccessary. He was feeling better, thoughts were coming easier, and he was even able to fabricate white lies, so there it was, and he was fine.

He pushed himself up of the bed, determinadely ignoring the petulant throbbing of his temples, and made to stand. "I suppose we will have to be getting to Diagon Alley soon then, the full moon is next week, right?"

"Well I guess you seem alright, what about Draco?" said Tonks cheerily.

He had half rolled over again, and in the soft light, with his hair disheveled, and his one arm thrown back, he looked thoroughly debauched. And a stirring in Harry's robes told him he very much liked the idea of that. If only their kiss looked like it could lead somewhere.

"I suppose I am free to go whenever I feel fine?" He was sitting up now, and looking questioningly at Dumbledore.

"Yes the mediwizards said both of you were free to be discharged as soon as you were feeling up to it. There was no physical harm done, and I'm sure some fresh air could do you both some good."

"Alright, well then I suppose Lupin and I should leave you to it. We just came in to say hello, Harry. Oh and..." she crossed over to Draco and pulled a long silver chain out of he traveling cloak, and passed it awkwardly to him.

"It belonged to Andromeda's father. She said she wants you to have it, said something about keeping a medallion close." she stepped back to look at him with one of her flourescent pink eyebrows raised, watching as he ran the chain through his hands.

"I see she found what I discussed in the letter?"

"I suppose so. I was wondering what she was talking about." Tonks dropped her crossed arms and went to stand by Lupin, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

Harry, as happy as he was for them, could not help the jealous pang that shot through him, moving to relfexively stroke the very place in his own arm.

"While we're on the subject," said Dumbledore, crossing over to stand between the two of them. He reached into the folds of his robes and withdrew two aged looking envelopes. Harry took his gingerly, feeling as always the overwhelming joy at simply being a wizard. Looking at the familiar script, he was eleven again, trying desperately to wrestle the letter away from the squealing pig hands of his uncle.

"What about tradition?"

Dumbledore snatched the letter back with a smile on his face, and waved his wand in a large circle around himself. With the swift motion he became an owl in a swirl of flowing robes, landing in his iridescent majesty on the end of Harry's bed. Deep blue eyes peered out a him from a white face that was framed in purple blue and gold feathers, spotted here and there by a fleck of white.

Somehow despite his astonishment Harry was able to reach out and accept the letter for the second time. The headmaster ended the transfiguration quickly, and asked Malfoy if he was upset at the lack of owl post as well.

Draco merely shook his head, open mouthed, holding the letter slack in his hands. He looked at Harry, who gave him a cheeky grin, "No one tell Hedwig, but you make a beautiful owl, headmaster."

"Well thank you, Harry, I was thinking about changing up my opening remarks, what do you think?"

"If I'm thinking what you're thinking, then I say go for it. Though, don't be surprised if some of the muggle-born first years wet themselves, I know I would have."

"Well, I'll be sure to have some chocolate ready for anyone who passes out." Lupin clapped him on the shoulder, "You two get washed up and we'll drop you off at the Leaky Couldron on our way home. Dumbledore and I will take care of the paper work while you get ready."

"I think I will drop in on Narcissa, she is probably getting a little stir crazy." Tonks hugged both of them, and gave Draco a little wave before heading down to the apparition point. She caught herself on the doorway, and peeked back in, speaking to Dumbledore. "I've already taken a few days off of work, so if they somehow find themselves back here I can take over for that little blond who ran the cart into me."

-ooo-

Dumbledore had summoned some fluffy white towels for them, and left to wait with Lupin in the waiting room. Harry sat wringing the thing through his hands, not wanting to be the first one to suggest anything. There were two shower heads, separated by the flimsiest and nearly see through linen sheet. Harry blushed as he thought of the bath that they had shared, his memory if it just as vivid as the day it had happened. He'd played it over behind his eyelids so often in his weeks alone that it was permanently embossed in his mind.

He wanted to pretend that it was no big deal, he'd showered with less decency in the quidditch rooms, but this was different. It would be Malfoy's pale form shown misty and blurred through the curtain. Harry glanced over at Draco to see the same stony expression on his face and his hands too, were playing nervously with the towel.

Tension grew taut and vibrant about the room, twanging and sounding with deep tones, setting Harry's nerves on fire. His heart was thudding in his ears, and his mouth was dry no matter how har he sucked his tongue. It was excruciating, but he was determined not to be the one to suggest anything. If Draco was going to be in denial about what they'd done, he was just going to have to force it out of him. With silence.

He breathed out heavily, after waiting at least another minute for Malfoy to say something. Anything. He'd rarely been so anxious, though he supposed it was a good thing, given his recent state of lethargy. All this tension, the adrenaline pumping in his veins at the thought of Malfoy naked next to him yet again. It brought with it the same feeling of heart wrentching pain and loneliness that he had heard trough the thick doors on the night of his flight from everything. He thought about trying to read his Hogwarts letter, but knew he wouldn't be able to focus.

Draco seemed to stir a little bit at Harry's impatient sound, and opened his mouth but did not look at him. "Look, Potter... I know you're thinking about it. And given your limited experience in the matter, I wouldn't be surprised if you're dwelling on it like it's some great romantic thing. Unfortunatly I'm not a poofter like you, it was just... A pureblood thing. For saving me."

He finished his little monologue, and though Harry had been expecting it his rage was lit aflame. Mostly he was probably just mad at himself for even trusting Malfoy that little bit. "Didnt your daddy teach his pureblood prince to lie a little better than that? You little shit. I knew it was going to be this way, even with those feelings that you left me in the pensive. I knew it was all bullshit. But maybe when you're done being a coward we can hear the fucking truth."

"Fuck off Potter! You don't know a damn thing about me. At least I'm not the one who is always fucking passing out and having little Dark Lord episodes!" He was sitting up in bed now too, his cheeks flushed and arms waving about.

"Maybe I should have just left you there, let the dementors have your sorry exuse for a soul!"

Malfoy flew off the bed and stalked off to the showers, pulling the curtain back fiercely and yelling, "Yeah well maybe you should have, that way I wouldn't have to deal with all this shit, I could've just been a blubbering mess like your godfather."

"Don't you fucking dare talk about him that way! And don't pretend like your spoiled ass has anything to deal with!" Harry was making his way to the showers now, feeling the room groan beneath his pressure. His magic was rising now, and he wasn't sure if he cared who got hurt.

But instead of the sharp retort he had been expecting he saw Draco slumped against the tiles of the shower, his body blurred through the gauze. He seemed to be crying, but he reached up and turned the water on before Harry could hear. Even still, Harry felt his rage fall away, leaving him shaken and empty.

"Mmm shit" Draco moaned, holding up his arms in the slop that had become his robes. Harry pulled back te curtain, moving to help the little shit.

"I don't need your fucking help, Potter." All the familiar ice was back, and Harry quickly disrobed and turned on the hot water, hoping the hot steam would soothe his raw nerves.

It helped somewhat; the gentle rise of the steam focused his mind, and drew back his loose magic so that he could feel it filling him again. It was a strange kind of post-coital relief to have it under control again, and to feel the water washing over his back and running in hot rivulets all around his face. It was going across his nose, and so he was having to take great open mouthed breaths, but it was calm and focusing so he didn't change his posture.

If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine himself floating weightless in a dark, warm, pond, listening to the rain fall gently on the surface. But even as he hung in this soothing place he could not forget that Draco was now naked next to him, having managed to get his wet clothes off finally.

The hushed awkward noises of Malfoy were tantaizing, the way noises are always louder when one is nervous about making a sound. Harry kept glancing over to see the lithe shadow, and once of twice the merest flicker of something a little more private. It was clear that Malfoy was standing with his back to him, and Harry, for his part, was standing with one leg sort of propped up, to hide the languid semi that was threatening to creep its sultry heat up his spine.

Harry should have known all along that Malfoy's uncanny ability to wind him up stemmed from a severe case of unrecognized sexual tension. It was like pure sex was oozing between them, and Harry's cock was approaching full mast as he went to move his soapy hands over himself, trying to keep from imagine what it might be like to have Malfoy doing it instead.

Finally he gave up and turned the water from hot to cold, wincing as it ran goosebumps down the length of his body, but feeling relief when the length of his cock became a little calmer. He finsihed quickly and forwent the towel dry, whipping away the water with a flick of his wand. He summoned some clothes out of the little bag by his bed, and had just put on his boxer briefs and a t-shirt when he heard Malfoy utter another curse under his breath.

"Did you drop the soap Malfoy?"

"Oh, ha, ha, fuck you Potter."

Fucking gladly, Malfoy. "Not today ya fairy shit." despite himself Harry's cock twitched against the slack fabric.

"I forgot my damn towel, could you just hand it to me?"

Still feeling a little miffed, Harry summoned it with his wand, and charmed it to fly around the curtain, smilling when he heard the soft thunk that meant it had successfully connected with Malfoy's face.

Harry was fully dressed by the time Malfoy emerged from behind the curtain, wearing only the fluffy white towel. Everything, from the sublte glisten of his pale skin, to the graceful lines of his hips and the way one hand held the towel closed, leaving a wide swath of his upper thigh quite visible; all of it made Harry wish for nothing more than to jump the proud git right there, devour him in the wet steamy glory of this shitty hospital bathroom. He chewed his bottom lip, and forced himself to pick up the hogwarts letter, flicking it open and pulling out the familliar parchments.

Still, all he was able to do was read the first line, before his eyes wandered again, watching the way the fabric clung tight to his perfect arse, hugging it in just the right way as he walked over to the side of his bed. Too soon, Draco had drawn the curtain and begun changing, and yet just the sound of the soft fabric brushing up against that skin set Harry's skin on fire and his imagination equally engulfed.

And he had long since given up caring why or how he had come to be so overpowered by raw sexual feelings for Malfoy, and just let them take hold, heart and soul (and cock).

-ooo-

Malfoy was exhausted by they time they were seated around the grimy table. He'd taken nearly an hour getting ready, checking and rechecking his appearence, determined to look his best for his first public showing in many months. On top of that he'd been swinging all morning between an unyeilding desire to fuck the shit out of Harry, and beat him to a pulp. They'd erupted into verbal sparing again when Harry pestered him about how long his poncy ass was taking to get ready.

They were sitting in silence now, Lupin having left them to falter at the door, and wince as the establishment turned to stare. Everything in his body told him just to pack up and run, fuck school, and flee the country. He would move to Siberia, and kill giants for food, anything would've been easier than this, having people stare him down like some sort of filthy rag. He was used to people looking at him like dirt, but not like they wished to vomit in it and wipe away his existence.

And then faggot prince Harry, the chosen one, had to show him up again, walking in there with his head held high. He even had the gall to order le soup de jour for the both of them. Bloody fucking french onion was his favorite, but still. Fuck him. Ugh….. Fucking.

He turned back to his soup, to escape his thoughts, and the thoughts of those around him. Granger was supposed to be here soon, and she better. Otherwise he was like to fall again into a downward sprial of depressing thoughts. It seemed lately that every thought dragged him down into a rut, and he was forced to just stew on how positively fucked his life was. The only cure was fighting with Potter.

Potter was just sitting there, passing soup through his perfect lips, so pink and tender. It was infuriating. He cast a silent warming charm on the spoonful Harry was currently bringing to his lips, watching with satisfaction as Harry jumped and dropped the spoon with a clang.

"Fucking damnit, Malfoy!" scowled Harry under his breath, reaching out to grab at Malfoy's arm. Fast as lightning, Draco had flinched away and drawn his wand.

"What the hell? You can't be touched now? What the fuck is going on?" Harry sat back in his chair, looking just as worn out and taught as Malfoy felt. Defeated. Exhasperated. Alone.

And all because of his filthy excuse for a father. Thinking about his former servile self made him want to vomit, even despite the warm caramel smell of the onion soup. He sat back down, putting his wand back in his sleeve.

"I'm going to cut my hair."

Harry nearly spluttered into his spoon a little bit, surely thinking Malfoy was off his rocker. For good this time. After blanching, Harry's face turned serious, and there was a subtle flicker of understanding that passed behind his eyes. It made Draco uncomfortable, wishing he wasn't so easy to read.

"You aren't your father, Malfoy."

Yep, a fucking open book. Here Potter, let me tell you my deepest secrets, and then you can continue to speak to me softly, with unbearable pity in those endles pools of beautiful emerald. Instead of saying this, however, he merely grunted, a non-comittal noise.

"So stop fucking with my soup, and just calm down already."

He wanted to say something, anything, just to get Potter to keep talking, if they were talking he could condense his existence to just that. An exchange of words, he didn't have to worry about anything but listening to the sound of voices droning on, however pointlessly.

"I might also take up knitting." He was challenging Harry now. This statement was more obscure.

"There are better ways of taking your mind of things." Harry didn't even hesitate.

"Fuck you Potter."

"You keep saying that."

"Saying what?" that was Hermione, she was here now, thank Merlin. Brushing the dust off her robes. They looked nice, not cheap. No. It was Weasely that always wore the cheap ones, not her. But they were more stylish, or something. Maybe she was just growing into her body. He should probably say something, instead of just staring deadpan down at his soup.

"Your robes look nice Hermione, are they new?"

They both looked startled. Was it really so rare for him to compliment?

"Don't worry about him Hermione, he's been acting like a prick all day."

"Harry! How do you expect to get along, acting like that?"

"That's what I'd bloody like to know!"

"Harry!"

"I really did mean it you know, Granger. They look nice."

She smiled, holding her hands on her hips and scowling as she turned back to Harry. Good, there were three of them now, he didn't have to try as hard. And then he remembered that he had something to ask Granger, and groaned internally. He had to be nice to her, and that was harder than being his natural cranky self.

"Granger…?"

She had slid into the seat across from them at the worn old bench, and turned back from surveying the still listening crowd at Draco's muffled word.

"Yes, Draco?"

Harry was looking at him too, but Draco was just so tired. It was no good. He wasn't going to be able to do it. Verbalizing his compliment to her, that had been his limit for today. He could only handle so much positive communication.

Harry elbowed him. He felt the sharp bone in his side like white hot metal, and he yelped, grabbing at his side and pulling his wand on Harry yet again.

Both of them were looking at him with piercing eyes, an affectation no doubt that they both got from spending so much time with Dumbledore. He had to play it off.

"I've got a bruise there, from my fall…" He was too tired to even lie properly. It was going to be a very long day.

"When did you fall?" Harry's piercing gaze was suspicious, he knew that Malfoy was lying and now he was trying to expose it for Hermione aswell.

"On the roof, you know." He made to take another spoonful of soup, noting the tremulous state of his hands. It was dark and rich smelling, and he wished for a moment that his life could be as simple as being an inanimate object. But then Harry was telling Hermione that he'd seen Draco, and didn't have a bruise on his side. Any other day he would've made some remark about Harry watching him naked, to further ensure that their kiss lead to anything. To end it surely. But he couldn't fight with Harry properly while Hermione was around.

"Draco, you were going to ask me something?"

Malfoy looked around suspiciously, hoping she would realize that they were in public, and assume he had changed his mind, and would tell her later. No such luck. She said she'd cast muffalto, what ever that was.

He sighed out heavily, and Harry rolled his eyes. "I wanted to ask - you see, Harry in all his brilliance, has locked me into teaching him the Wolfsbane potion so that he could pay for the ingredients."

"And you want me to help because you don't want to be alone with him?" She smiled sarcastically at them, holding her mug up to hide it just a little as she watched them both turn away and blush.

She let them suffer for a bit, before saying. "Well no, I won't do it."

"Hermione!" moaned Harry, reaching across the table to take her hand.

She lifted her nose at him and laughed. "Fine. But only because I'm head girl, and you would need to get my permisson to brew such a dangerous potion anyway."

"Blimey, Hermione, you didn't tell me you made head girl! Congratulations!"

She smiled for a merest moment, before it seemed, she remembered something.

"Harry," she began, her tone motherly, "You mean to tell me that you haven't read your letter yet? You should've already known."

"What do you mean? And no I haven't read it yet, I've been... distracted." he finished lamely, and looked down into his soup, stirring it listlesly. Even Malfoy had been able to read his, while they took the Underground, if only to center himself on the extrememly ridiculous contraption. It was stupid really, he and Harry should've been perfectly fine to apparate. Ridiculous.

Malfoy had lost himself in thought, and only realized that Hermione was now watching intently has Harry read his letter.

"….and it is my pleasure to inform you that you have been selected to serve, along with Miss Hermione Granger, as head boy and girl for the upcoming year."

Harry finished and put the letter down, looking an odd combination of exciement and incredulity. "Shit, Ron's going to be pissed."

Hermione was biting her bottom lip, "Well congratulations anyway, I'm sure he'll get over it. Always does." She reached across and patted his hand. But all of them knew this was going to be trouble. Even Draco, who had only watched Weasely's pouts from an outsider's perspective.

Harry was reading the rest of his letter, having moved onto the pale blue insert embossed with the ministry seal.

"What's this then?" and he began to read aloud. " In accordance with the Ministry of Magic's strict proactive stance on the defense of its citizenry from the dark arts, it has been established, under article 26 of the decree for the protection of underage wizards, that all students returning to any school of witchcraft and wizardry under the jurisdiction of the aformentioned decree (see article 87, section 4 for listing), shall be enrolled in a compulsory pre-term learning enrichment programme. This is to begin promtly on the morning of August the 9th, and continue to the start of term. All materials will be provided, should they exceed the requested materials from the school. More information concerning the decree can be solicited at the main office of the departement for underage wizardry."

Harry finished reading, and Malfoy turned to Hermione aswell, hoping for her tack on this rude shortening of the summer.

"Well, obviously they are worried. Properly. I suppose its mostly just publicity, so that they can point to the areas that they have prepared for his attack. I had Arthur bring me back a copy of the decree -"

"Naturally." Harry smiled. She huffed and crossed her arms, looking most afronted, but continued none the less.

"It says," she continued spitefully, "that the specifics of the programme are to be handled and staffed mostly by the school, so I expect it should be useful anyway. And they aren't allowed to give us homework, so I expect it will be mostly practical learning. Your favorite."

She let the little dig sink in and rose from the table, "We'd best be going, it was raining when I left, and I'm sure this place will get crazy once it hits here."

And now it was time to move, and Draco's whole body was stubbornly disliking the whole idea.

"Draco we aren't leaving your scrawny ass to sit here while we go do all the hard work."

"Is shopping that hard for you Potter? Developing a poor lower class inferiority complex?" He was still sitting, and they were hovering ont he verge of walking away.

"Need I remind you that I currently have more money than you will ever again see in your life?"

Draco thought he must really be winding Harry up, for him to actually admit to having money; Harry thought Draco must truly be feeling like shit if he wasn't reacting to being called poor.

Harry made a move to lift Draco by the arms, with intention on his face, as opposed to a instinctual movement. Draco was up in an instant again, his spine prickling with fear of being touched.

The little burst of adrenaline was enough to wake him up enough to make it out the back door. He ignored as best he could the little wispers that sprang up about the three of them, and rode the wave of energy as long as it would take him. Waiting for the stupid brick wall to disapear, he shuffled back and forth on his feat. If he stopped moving he would die. At least it wasnt hot out.

"It's amazing isn't it? No matter how many times I see it, this little bit of magic always brings me back to my first day as a wizard."

Hermione hummed in agreement as they stepped across the threshold, feeling the first little bits of rain. Draco thought about how it must be, to be so amazed by the mere existence of magic. He'd always known he was a wizard, and though he was on occasion humbled by the beauty of magic, he wondered how much more intense it must be. To have never known it, and to be thrust knee deep in it.

Their first stop was the Apothecary, rushing in just as it began to rain in ernest. They also managed to avoid the stares of any of the various gaggles of witches and wizards, who were running about with their eyes to the ground.

They stumbled into the quiet stuffy store, feeling the noiselessness suck up around them after all the comotion of outside. The grubby old wizard who managed the store looked up at them, one gloved hand still clutching a handful of slimy eggs that he had been scooping out of the bottom of a barrel.

He adjusted his glasses with his relatively clean hand, and made a grimace as Malfoy came into view. "You answer me this boy, and I'll decide if I should throw you out. Where is your father, and why aren't you off being part of the next crop of that dung heap brood?"

Malfoy had known the old wizard all his life, even spent a few days helping him restock some of the rarer items that he'd used the Malfoy name to procure. Had his cutting tone not sent daggers into Malfoy's chest, he might have been indignant. He felt his eyes grow red around the edges, and fought to bite back tears. He had not expected such hostility, sure some scathing looks perhaps, but it's not as if anyone really knew how much darkness his family had wrought.

"You won't be throwing him out of this shop." Harry had no justification, but the certainty in his voice was enough. Malfoy was positive Harry could probably convince him to do anything, if he kept speaking that way.

The shopkeep, whose name Malfoy no longer cared about trying to remember, seemed to wise up at the realization that he was in the presence of the precious Potter. His mouth got all puckered, like he was sucking on his tongue, and his eyes seemed to buldge in his thick round glasses as he considered the situation.

He bent back down into the barrel, as if trying to pretend they had never walked in. They waited awkwardly in the dank, acidic smell of the place. Listening to the rain outside and silently discussing their next move with furituve looks and nods.

Hermione got tired of their waffling, and moved past them swiftly, levitating a few jars as she passed the shelves and went to collect things from the giant vats at the back of the store. "I'll get the standard stuff, for all three of us. You two focus on the… uh, lupine arrangement."

Malfoy thanked her for her tact, it would not do to have the world at large thinking he was a werewolf, which he was sure would be the end result of someone hearing wolfsbane and seeing him in a 10 meter radius.

Fortunately for them, the aconite flowers grew wilde on the slopes leading down to Hagrid's hut, so they wouldn't need to buy the most conspicuous elements. He set Harry the easiest task, selecting the choicest dried sage leaves, and sorting through a box of salamander scales for the ones with the darkest red flakes.

It took him the longest to sort through the dragon ginger because he didnt want to risk another outburst from Jiggers (he'd remembered the name) if he went to ask for the hide gloves. So instead he had to levitate each one individually to check for quality.

So engrossed was he in inspecting the flow of the root strands, that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Harry and Hermione appeared behind him.

"I'll get the meteorite powder then? Probably best if I do it, how many ounces?" Hermione was right, out of the lot of them she was probably the least abrasive, and most likely to succed in getting the only thing pre-packaged in the enitre store, the only thing behind the counter.

Harry and Draco both left the store, Harry dropping a few galleons by the register. Jiggers did not look up as the bell chimed them out.

Potter led them into an alley, and Draco absently followed him, only to look up and find that it was very dark, they were very close, and Potter had his wand drawn. A heady wave of panic swelled up within him.

But the look on his face was not dark, but concerned. "We're going to have to change your appearence. And you're going to be Hermione's cousin."

"And just how do you plan on doing that?" Somehow the concentration he put into picking through ingredients had restored him to a somewhat… normal … state of mind. And it felt strange and foreign, but lighter and less like spending every waking hour swimming at the bottom of the Hogwarts lake.

"Tonks taught me a spell as to change my hair color, and I reckon it will do the same for your eyes if just change the pilo bit to occulus."

"Some how, practicing unknown magic, only days after becomming officially legal, in the middle of a dark alley, because people suspect me of being a death eater. Somehow that doesn't sound like a good idea." He was drawling now, hoping that maybe if he sounded enough like Snape, Potter would leave him alone to be dramatic about people accosting him on the street.

Because he realized in the shop, that if he was moping about being a public enemy, he wouldn't have to think about the way Harry looked as he sucked his bottom lip and considered Draco in the dark light. It sent chills up his spine in the most pleasant way possible, but it wasn't good. Not in the long run. Not when they could never touch each other properly.

They were so close now, he was sure Harry had been creeping them together. Their was a hungry look in Harry's eyes, a sultry darkness that welled up inside Draco aswell. But not matter that he wanted it, that Harry seemed to want it, nothing could happen. And he should probably tell this to Harry, but he just couldn't.

If he said it outloud. It was real. Nothing that terrible should be real. So he was just going to ignore it until he wasn't real, until he didn't exist. Which he was sure would be sometime this year. Positive.

Harry's lip quivered. Fucker.

"Will you at least let me make your hair darker, its probably your most notable trait, aside from the eyes. And I know this one works."

Harry Potter. Thought. His. Eyes. Were. Notable.

Draco's lips formed into a hard line as he supressed the desire to dwell on that. "Fine."

Harry sucked in a deep breath and raised his wand to Malfoy's head. "If this doesn't change back I'll kill you."

"Pilofuscus Nova Imperminentia" Harry muttered it softly, and Malfoy felt the roots of his hair tingle in a wave starting at the base of his skull. And then it was done, and when he fingered a lock of his hair it was a dark tawny color.

"I don't like it. And you need to shave Malfoy."

"Well, then be glad its not permanent. And fuck off, I don't need to shave as much when it's blond."

But Harry wasn't looking for a fight, he was staring off into the distance, with a blush on his face. And Draco had no idea why, for the life of him.

"You should probably put on your reading glasses too, people don't know you have them."

Like someone came down with a heavy cleaver on his nerves, Malfoy stared back at him, open mouthed. No one. No one. No one knew he had reading glasses.

"You squint at things when you read. And I see you reaching at your breast pocket when we're in public. But then you just pretend to be adjusting your robes. I assume that's where you keep them."

Draco reached into his pocket and roughly pulled out the slight framed reading glassed, glaring at Harry the enitre time. "Have you ever considered not being fucking creepy and stalking me everywhere?"

Harry looked back with a different, non-sultry feircness in his eyes, but before it could come to fruition Hermione was at the alley entrance.

"Harry have you seen Draco? I want to ask him if this is enough-" Her words died on her open lips. She studied him for a moment, and then said, "Well, that works well enough. If I hadn't been blinded by your blond hair for seven years I wouldn't recognize you for a bit."

"Where too next? I'd like to get out of this bloody rain if at all posible."

"Before you melt into a sweet pile of sugar?" asked Harry, his tone on the unreadbly fine line between cheek and sarcasm.

Draco decided not to reply as they walked along towards Flourish and Blotts, sneaking glances at himself in the windows to check out his appearence. It was startling, he still looked handsome, like some sort of dapper journalist, with his slight stubble and modern styled glasses. All he needed was a camera to complete to stereotype. He ruffled his wet hair, and as he looked between himself and Harry, it seemed more likely that they were cousins, rather than with Hermione.

Somehow, with the just the simple change of color, people seemed to ignore him completely, due no doubt to his mere presence being overshadowed by the pure glory of the chosen bint. He watched Hermione as people grovelled over Harry, shaking his hand and waving at him excitedly. She never seemed sour or depressed about being completely ignored, rather she smiled and watched as Harry squirmed under the attention.

They managed to make it all the way to Gringotts before the roots of Malfoy's hair began to turn blond again. It'd taken them almost three hours to get through flourish and blots, what with everyone and their grandmother out to buy books before the unexpectedly early start of term. And on top of that Harry had run off somewhere and Hermione only managed to find him because she was, as usual, looking for some new reads in the historical section.

He looked startled, like madame Pince had just found him in the restricted section (even though now as head boy he was allowed in there). And it was this that Draco pondered as they paid for their copious amounts of school books, promising to pay Harry back as soon as he turned 20 and the estate rolled over from his father to him.

"Fucking Goblins. Because my father is a wanted criminal, they have to wait three damn years to transfer the money to me. All because he is at large. Like I would fund his flight from the law."

"Well Goblins are mistrustful at the best of times. Personally I agree with the policy, not all of the Death Eaters have such strong willed children. Don't worry about Harry paying for anything, he could buy this whole street and still take a bath in the galleons in his vault."

"You're exagerating Hermione, dont get any lofty ideas, im paying for this potion, your school supplies, and that's it." His mouth was set in a firm line, and he was determinadely looking anywhere but Draco.

"Well, anyway, its probably a good thing your hair is going back to normal, Gringotts has heavy security about appearence charms. I once saw a woman gain about three hundred pounds in an instant when she tried to get in one of the railcarts." She held up her hand to stiffle her giggle, and wiped the rain out of her face.

It was positively dismal out, and had he not charmed his robes, Draco was sure he would have been soaked to the bone. It came down in thick heavy sheets, that they could watch travel up and down the cobblestone street.

Here and there a grimy looking wizard or witch, clustered at the entrance to Knockturn Alley, would still be trying to pawn their wares, despite the utter lack of customers. Just as they enetered the large dark doors of the white marble building, a clap of thunder rent the air, and despite the thick walls, they could hear it all the same.

The sound of the storm now in full tilt outside was only dampened as they passed further and further into the deep caverns below the street. Still feeling a bit sick, both Harry and Draco looked rather displeased at the journey. Hermione, Draco noted, was uncharacteristically gleeful as the rode up and down the winding rails.

"I am pleased to inform you, Mister Potter," said the drawling, snape-like tone of the goblin, "that we have sucessfuly relocated the Black family fortune to the Potter vault."

"Why did you do that?" he hadn't meant the question to sound acusatory, but it came out anyway, and the goblin scowled.

"As per the request of Dumbledore, the request that you athorized. I should think it obvious, given that there are still other, less desirable decendents of the Black out there… in the world." the goblin looked around, spookily, as if he expected Bellatrix to come leaping out of the darkness at him. Draco, by the way he looked around, seemed to be imagining that aswell, if somewhat lethargically.

Harry tried to think of someway to repair the damage done by his accidental insult, but everything sounded ingenuine. He vowed then, to make sure he looked as awed as possible when they arrived.

And he needn't have tried to feign it, as became jaw droppingly obvious when the goblin slid a clawlike finger down the door to reveal an otherworldly collection of treasure.

The three of them merely stood and gaped at the door, unsure where too look; what was more amazing? The rooms full of decadent dark wooded furniture, or the mountainous piles of gold, gleaming warm and rich over every possible surface.

"Shit, fucking, damn, Potter. We are getting dress robes. Maybe even some for that doiley old git Ron."

They all laughed at that, the memory of Ron's mauve colored catastrophy vivid in their minds. Harry and Draco caught each other's eyes, and much the same as that first night, looked away with blush creeping on their cheeks.

Back to square one. Only the full force of Draco's beauty was painfully obvious now, not just a flickering vision.

The goblin hovered by the door, with an almost pained look on his face, flinching at their mirth. A minute ago, Harry would have sympathized with him, but he felt lighter now. Not cured of his burden, but momentarily relieved of its omnipresence in his mind.

So they lost themselves wandering amongst Harry's inheritance, money being the only thing that seemed to go as planned in Harry's dismal life. It was a fortunate fortune. If he'd been a destitute savior, it would be only that much harder to keep hope alive.

The goblin was pacing now, growing more impatient as they dallyed, and eventually they were forced from the inspection of a particularly ancient grimoire by his grumblings. Harry handed his money bag to Malfoy, giving him tacit consent to take as much as they needed. Which, by Malfoy's standards, was above and beyond what Harry thought was 'needed'.

As they left the quite mosoleum of a place, Draco posed a question to Hermione. "Speaking of that… befreckled friend of yours, why didn't he come along to go shopping with his dearest?"

"Well I should think that would be obvious," sort of rounding on the pair of them with a motherly tone that she always took when something was 'obvious'. This time though, Harry agreed with Hermione. It was rather obvious. "what with Harry being made head boy, and you being, well… you know, you. I daresay he will be moping at least until the feast."

"Really? And I thought I was the stubborn git."

"Well you are." Harry said cheekily, glancing sidelong at Mafloy to find him with a dazzling smile on his face. As they walked, Harry had to stop himself from needling Malfoy about his inconsistency, and vowed not to ruin what little happiness they seemed to have garnered between the three of them. He would worry about Malfoy's continuous shift of desire later. He pushed it to the edge of his mind, willing it to remain there in the dark space, preserved for some lonelier moment. Of which their were sure to be many.

And Harry sped up a bit, using the physical momentum of his body to convince his subconcious to shut the hell up. It would not do to slip under right now, and he tried to summon what was left of the stoic self he had endured during his three weeks of dark whimsy.

They passed in and out of Madame Malkin's in a dream, or so it was to Harry. He spent the majority of the time lost in watching Draco being fitted for his robes. He watched the old witch prod and pull at the fabric, pressing it tight against the graceful lines of Malfoy's body. He watched with envy, wishing it could be his hands, only they wouldn't jab so sharply, no, they would cup those elegant forms, and run soothing fingers across the tantalizing and hidden expanse of alabaster skin.

And Harry felt himself inwardly groan and a tightness unfurl in the deepest parts of himself, unleashing a heavy warmth. He gulped, hoping Hermione was too busy admiring the fabric that was being doted upon her. She was looking at him, calculating as usual. He could hear the gentle thrum of her mind, whirring in gentle arcs like the sound of the fan that also beat around and around in the sultry swealtering air.

But really, Harry was just aroused in that overwhelming primal way, and was very much glad that he had already been measured. Or they would have had something unexpected to take a ruler too, he thought in half amusement, half unbearable need. Even the sound of the rain outside was low, distant, grinding and sensual.

And so a tropic lassitude swept over him until they stepped again into flurry of wet and wind. Hermione and Draco were deep in conversation over the undetectable expansion charm that she'd placed on her beaded bag. Draco was marveling at how well all their day's purchases fit into the well organized space.

"And you've got books in their too? You are true to yourself, that's for damn sure."

Hermione scoffed at his sarcasm, pulling a feigned afrontted air, but Harry was not paying attention. At the word book, he'd remembered something that came rushing back to him, echoing along with the way Malfoy had said "book", in that dramatic, head throbbing way. And I wasn't really so dramatic, but his mind was still laboring under the intense weight of his arousal. So everything was passionate. Even the simple reccolection of a task.

"I-um. I forgot to get something at the owl emporium, I'll meet you guys back at the Leaky Couldron in a bit." He turned quickly before they had the chance to say anything. He tried his best not to walk to hurriedly, but gave up as soon as he realized that the owl emporium was in fact in the opposite direction. Fuck it, he was just going to go anyway.

He was soone striding past the grimy old fuckwads that were selling contraband at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. He was on a mission, only so much time before Hermione convinced Draco to come snooping after him. And he had to find out before then. He would be in and out swiftly, after interrogating the man.

He blew into Borgin & Burkes, windswept, soaking, and dark. This was Harry Potter on a mission. Walking up to the counter, he assumed his most intimidating air, feeling a little bit of his magic slip out from within, permeating the dank grimy space with his sheer presence. The old, drawn out husk of man looked up imediately, Harry's presence disturbing the settled muck and silt of the place.

"I have nothing for you here, boy." The words were spat through a near toothless mouth, and Harry felt the slightest urge to take out the rest of them.

"I'm looking for a book. And if you value anything in this terrible excuse for a shop, you will provide to the best of your paltry ability." He let the magic swell behind his eyes, and leered across the darkness at the man. The last time he had been in this shop, his body was run through with fear and trepidation. But now, he came into this place a full wizard, and something feirce running through his veins. A confidence brought about by a desperation he felt only in the deepest caverns of his soul.

"You will hand over anything in your collection of books concerning pureblood rituals."

"You will be paying me for them."

"You will be giving me a discount on them."

The man seemed to consider him for a moment, his face turning in on itself in a grotesque scowl that drew up his great jowly cheeks and brought down his eyebrows with a sickening slack puddly mishapen drooping of skin. Then, startled by a slight crackle of Harry's magical aura, his skin flew back and he darted off to the back of the store.

Harry, for his part, had expected more of a fight out of the shopkeep, and he felt the aprehensive outburst of magic ebb and calm slightly. He was still bristling, but no longer angry.

The man returned carrying only three books, and was wearing an expression even more sour than the one he'd run off with. A feat that Harry scarcely believed possible.

"This will be them." he said gruffly. "Five bloody galleons and you get out of my store."

Harry withdrew ten galleons from his pocket and deposited them on the counter. "You never even fucking owned these, understand?"

The man simply swept them from the dark, grime polished, surface, and withdrew to the shadows of his haunt, his beady black eyes fixated on Harry in his withering slow retreat into darkness.

Harry disapparated with the loudest bang he could manage, blasting apart one of the glass cabinets to his right. The hunched over wizard gave a little unvoluntary gasp, and then spat and clawed at his scabbed skin in his shame.

A/N: Whale penis surprise, Cum like a shotgun. Fat Anal Gaping, Lesbian Beefin' Nibbles. Feel good about yourself.

Also, yeah I changed the title, don't worry your little hearts about it.
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Harry Potter and The Sanguine Brother's Bond