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

Chapter List
- 140
- 141
- 142
[Note: “x-x” = speech & ‘x-x’ = thoughts & *x-x* = telepathy & #x-x# Parseltongue]
(Loving encounters)
SPYRIDON
~~~ THURSDAY 5^TH~~~
Porto Camphanã: 00.30 – Lisboã Santa Apólonia: 05.20
They were still asleep when they were shunted at Lisboã Santa Apólonia station; waking up to find themselves stationery and the green light allowing long showers to be taken. Draco and Harry did just that, luxuriating in the plentiful supply of hot water. After breakfast, the morning was a fairly lazy one, entailing a city-wide ride on one of the vintage trams which had been especially reserved for them. These trams and their routes had been preserved as a tourist attraction. There were more modern trams for the commuters.
“If this street gets any narrower, we’ll scrape the paint off the tram.”
“Never mind the width look how steep it is.”
“I hope we don’t slide back, there’s another tram close behind.”
The tram had absolute right of way, even crossing to the wrong side of the road in order to negotiate one tight corner. When the driver rang the warning bell all the other vehicles moved out of the way and pedestrians scampered to safety.
They alighted at the top of a very steep slope.
“No way am I going on a tram down that.”
“It’s all right, like the one in Paris, it’s cable hauled.”
“It was night so I didn’t see it. Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Of course! The muggles test these things regularly.”
“I’m still holding cushioning charm ready just in case.”
~~~ AFTERNOON ~~~
Lisboã Cais do Sodré: 11.30 – Cascais: 12.30
Despite some misgivings they arrived safely at the bottom of the funicular. Another service tram ride brought them to Cais do Sodré station. Their railway carriages were waiting in reverse order and during the hour’s journey they ate lunch. Reaching Cascai;s they had a digestive walk around the ruined castle, but the main highlight of the day was windsurfing.
The breeze was cooler than the day before [or else they were becoming more accustomed to the heat]. As before, Draco, Harry and Ronald outshone all the rest, but even they had a number of ignominious duckings. As evening threatened they boarded their train for dinner.
~~~ EVENING ~~~
Cascais 17.00 – Border 20.00
“Maggie, for this long haul why are we not attached to some other carriages?”
“Well, Mr Harry, we are not going all the way back to the station near the trams. Just after we pass under the new Tagus Bridge we run across some busy roads on the level. This bit is only used for stock transfer and goods trains to the docks. Once at Alacantara Terra station we are back with the passenger lines and should follow them to Oriente Station. We aim to precede the hotel train; so instead we have a private train to the border with Spain. It will take just over four hours because we do not have to stop on the way. There we allow the hotel train to pass us and a Spanish crew will take over”
“So all the compartments will be in use, yes?”
“No. The present train crew are based at Abrantes and have time to return home with the hotel train engine which swaps at the border once we’re secured for the night. In fact they’re fairly chuffed because they’ll get back home early and still be paid for the whole shift.”
“So what happens to our carriages?”
“There’s a Spanish crew coming to take us onwards. They’re riding with the other hotel train pulled by the Spanish engine which swaps to take the hotel train onwards. So, whilst you’re all asleep they’ll take over and convey us onwards, once the hotel train is out of the way.”
“It’s a bit early to go to sleep at nine thirty,” observed Draco. “Is there anything interesting to see whilst we’re waiting?”
“Yes Mr Draco, there is. Close to the border is a pilgrim church, not as grand as Santiago but very interesting despite its border locality. It is dedicated to Saint Spyridon de Alfareros and is best seen at night when it is lit by candlelight. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“Why is that?” asked Ronald.
“During the Peninsular War there was a big battle between the British troops and Napoleon’s legions which the allies won. For some reason the church was not sacked as was usual by one side or the other. There is a legend that Saint Spyridon hid the church from the combatants by building a pottery mound over it.”
“Why a pottery mound?” enquired Hermione
“Because Saint Spyridon is the patron saint of potters.”
“See, Harry, even you have a personal patron saint,” put in Seamus: “No wonder you won against Voldie.”
The rest of the team chuckled.
~~~ HACIENDA ~~~
Just inside the Spanish border there was a Madrid facing refuge siding into which their carriages were propelled by the Portuguese crew. The crew then ate a late dinner in their cabin waiting for their train back to Abrantes. It was obviously a regular occurrence because there was a water hook-up there and a narrow wooden platform. Onto this platform the party alighted and Aggie took them to some horse drawn vehicles. They sat on carpet covered planks inside the carts to reach a tiny village. It was almost dark but, as the road was made of some whitish gravel, it was easy to see where they were going.
Harry looked around him as they rode slowly accustoming his eyes to the dusk. There were two silhouettes which caught his attention. One was on top of a low mountain some distance further on; it appeared to be a partially ruined castle whose topmost pinnacle was just caught by the rays of the setting sun.
“What’s the name of that castle, Maggie?”
“The Castillejo de Cerroverde, Mr Dean. I’m told that it changed hands many times during Wellington’s Peninsular War.”
The other building that Harry saw was in the small town. It looked like one that the local gentry might own and it had a decorated façade. Harry could just discern two wings with a shaded balcony in between them over the arched main door. Unlike the other houses there were no lights at the windows so he presumed that the owners were either in the back or not in residence. He had little time to ponder because the church was next door and their party were entering through a wicket in the main door.
The inside of the door had a bass-relief image of St George and, of course, his dragon. There appeared to be no doorknobs or catches so Draco watched as the door closed; he found that one of the 'Rose of England' symbols in the border twitched as the latch clicked.
Candles were everywhere, some in shining candelabras hung from the ornately carved and gilded ceiling. These gave light to the brilliantly coloured pictures of saints between the intricate mouldings of the supporting arches. Many of the bays between the pillars had small side altars dedicated to various saints with their attendant prayer candles lit. Each side chapel had a couple of prie-dieu’s in front and people were kneeling there praying, or simply sitting in the flanking chairs staring at the gorgeous ornament. On the reredos behind the high altar there was a glittering statue of a saint, holding a large golden cross in his right hand and what looked like a cauldron tucked between his left forearm and his side. Harry assumed that this was Saint Spyridon and wondered about what the cauldron meant. Above the saint was a mosaic depiction of Christ in glory; holding his hands out to redeem the world beneath his feet.
The party wandered around looking at the beautiful statues and pictures of the saints; breathing-in the hushed, holy atmosphere of a building that had been prayed in for many centuries. They spoke in whispers awed by the obvious holiness surrounding them.
“You must be the last of the American party. Do hurry up, or you’ll miss the blessing.” A brown robed monk had opened a door behind them and started to usher them in the direction Astoria had seen some other pilgrims going.
Draco looked rebellious, but Harry inwardly counselled: *Let it be; let’s see where this leads, shall we? I’ve got one of my feelings.*
They entered the Lady Chapel situated in the apse beyond the ornate reredos. There was a rotund grey-haired priest in gorgeous apparel walking through the lines of kneeling pilgrims, individually blessing them by making the sign of the cross on their foreheads. There were just enough places left, so the company knelt at the end of the rearmost line.
“Benedictio Dei omnipotentis, Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti descendat super tu et maneat semper.”
“Amen,” each of them replied as they were blessed and, at the same time a tingle seemed to pass between them and the priest’s finger on their foreheads; one that they all recognized.
~~~ INTERVIEW ~~~
After the blessing service had ended the priest took the monk aside and had a whispering session with him.
“Excuse me, but are you with the pilgrim party?” the monk asked.
“No. We came from the train to see your church so we went along with your suggestion to come and be blessed.”
The monk translated what their reply was.
“Father Heironimo wishes that you speak with him privately, please?”
“Of course we will, Father,” Draco made a head bow towards the priest: *I hope I have enough Spanish to get us through. If I link hands then you should be able to understand, okay?* Draco held their two wives hands as he communicated
The monk took them through a passage and into a well-appointed room at the opposite end. It contained a cushioned chair, a small table, a wooden cupboard and a number of cushioned seats ranged against along two walls. On these the company were invited to sit. It was a bit of a squash.
“Father Heironimo will be with you in five minutes, once he has disrobed. Perhaps you would like some sherry while you wait?” Without waiting for their reply the monk opened one of the cupboard doors and produced some glinting glasses and a very expensive looking cut glass decanter. He poured one glass full and placed it on the table and then offered each one of them an equivalent. He then left the room.
“This Father Heironimo has the same tingle that John has.”
“I know what you mean Ginny?”
The door was opened by the monk and the priest entered; thus preventing any further tingle discussion. The monk retired leaving them alone with Father Heironimo.
The priest waved his forefinger around: “Silencio, por favor?”
Whilst Draco got up and cast the silencing charm, the priest fished out of his robes a Saint George medal and indicated that Harry should touch it. The priest then hung it round his neck and carefully placed it inside his shirt:
“Welcome, Mages, please call me Ronnie. If I mentioned Hogwarts would that have any meaning for you?”
“Yes Father, it would.” Astoria introduced the company to him and added: “We thought you couldn’t speak English.”
“I can’t, but once one of you touched my Saint George you will hear me in your language and I will hear you in mine, as long as I have skin contact with the pendant.”
“We suspect therefore that you know of our special status.”
“Yes … I knew you were coming … At least the Spirit said you were. Is there a special reason? Am I able to help you in any way?
“We were advised that this was a place to come and visit. You see we’re all on a touring train holiday and our couriers suggested that your church was special. Then the monk presumed we were with the other pilgrim party.”
“Ah … I had told Brother Ingo to expect some more, but not where they would be coming from. I think he was waiting for you outside and was somewhat surprised that you had slipped past him.” Heironimo smiled broadly at the company: “There must be another reason why the Spirit prompted me to wait for you … Mmm … Something to do with our patron saint I think.”
Heironimo closed his eyes and meditated for a couple of minutes: “Well ... now ... it’s also someone in your party’s special saint … I think … Can you help me?”
“We were kidding Harry along,” suggested Seamus: “His surname is Potter and we think your Saint Spyridon is the patron saint of ceramic workers.
“Yes that’s correct. Mmm … Mr Potter may I place my hands on your head again?”
Harry looked at the others and they nodded, so he went and knelt at the priest’s knees. Father Heironimo put his hands with his palms touching Harry’s forehead, and closed his eyes in concentration.
“Oh, I say … Well, well, well … Thank you Mr Potter you may resume your seat.”
As Harry did so Fawkes flew in through the open window and perched on Harry’s shoulder.
The priest smiled: “That’s an omen of good fortune if ever I saw one.”
“He’s called Fawkes, Father Ronnie.”
“I’ve never seen a live phoenix before but I have studied the old bestiaries, Hidalgo Harry. It seems that you are fulfilling part of your destiny. The hacienda in which we sit belongs to you. Briefly put – sometime after the peninsular war finished the owner of the property left for England. He had been very friendly with the then priest and left this estate in his charge. There was a stipulation that the priest must always be a discerner, a tradition that has been kept alive ever since. When I was inducted the outgoing priest gave me a very old book, one that we have kept up to date with a yearly entry. In the preface it says that the rightful owner will call for his inheritance when it is needed. And that this person will be marked with lightening and have as his companions some elves and a bird of fire. I have no doubt that this must be you.”
Bobby and Robbie assumed their rightful shapes and Harry lifted his fringe and showed Heironimo the scar: “Perhaps this is what it meant Father. You say I own the property and that you have it in trust, is that correct?”
“Yes, Hidalgo.”
“And now you call me by another name.”
“It’s a Spanish title, Harry,” Draco supplied: “A bit like lord of the manor.”
“Right! Please, Ronnie, just call me Harry I seem to collect titles and they have no real meaning. So what happens next?”
“Perhaps you and your retinue would like to see round your property in the morning.”
“I think we’ll be in Madrid in the morning, perhaps I can come and visit properly after we have finished our joint honeymoon in a month’s time.”
“That’s odd; the preface says you would be part of a conjoined four.”
“Not really! You are not aware, but we are a bonded four, having made special vows in front of John, vicar of Saint Godric’s Church, he’s our local priest.” Harry pointed out the other three.
“So, I have a compatriot. Because you are the Hidalgo I am your personal chaplain as well as being parish priest here … Mmm … If I remember correctly Saint Godric is one of the lesser saints. Perhaps I ought to visit your priest; it would be well if we can work as a team. Is he aware of your special gifts?”
“Yes, he’s an exorcist and the first time we shook hands he recognised me for what I was. Since then he’s become an unofficial chaplain to Hogwarts.”
“An exorcist … Well, well … very special indeed … He and I must have a long talk.”
“I take it you are a priest in the Roman Church, John was ordained into the Anglican Church. Will that make it difficult?”
“Not insurmountable, discerners and exorcists are few and far between, I suspect we have a lot in common despite our differences in doctrine. Besides which, both our churches are involved in the ecumenical conference.”
“Come to think of it, Giuseppe is a Roman Priest too – He lives in Venice, Father.”
“Hrm … Excuse me Mr Harry, but we ought to be getting back to the train soon.”
“Okay, Maggie. Ronnie, I suggest we take things up in a month or so’s time, once we are back home. As far as I’m concerned your status as my steward here has not been altered, please continue as you have done. I doubt I shall want to alter things that much. Okay?”
Ronnie smiled: “It shall be as you wish, Hidalgo, I look forward to our meeting again, and may the peace of the Lord bless the rest of your journey.”
“Our peace rests on you too, Father Heironimo.”
As the company rode back Harry looked at his new domain with a little more interest. The centre balcony was recessed between the wings and supported by a low curved arch, which formed a deep portico in front of the main door. The balcony’s roof was supported by two smaller arches and there was a curved reredos behind that with a coat of arms upon it, contained within a roundel. It was too dark to see what the emblazonment was.
When they arrived back at the station the Spanish crew had just arrived and both hotel trains were disappearing in opposite directions. So by the time they had ensconced themselves in the chairs and had their nightcap, their train was starting to move. Harry had his leg pulled about gaining more property.
Harry smiled at the repartee: “Ronnie said that I would claim it when I had need of it. I wonder what that means.”
“You’ll no doubt find out Harry when you visit again.”
“Not just me, remember; it’ll be at least four of us plus Fawkes. Hey come on Guys it’s bed time.”
That got some enthusiastic cheers and they all dispersed along the corridor.
~~~ ESCONCED ~~~
Once inside the room D&H set about their ablutions. After a time Draco became restive.
“Harry, did you tell Ronnie that this is our honeymoon?” Draco was sitting on the chair dressed in green silk sleeping shorts brushing his long silver-gold locks.
“Yes Draco, it I did.” Harry’s towel clad posterior could be seen through the open door to the bathroom; he was shaving.
“Then why aren’t you doing something about it?” Draco crossed his arms and looked petulant.
“It takes two to tango, Darling. Perhaps you would like to kiss my shaving cream beard away.” Harry still had the said white beard adorning his face.
“It smells nice, Lover. But I’ve stopped washing my mouth out with soap; thank you very much. Father used to do it when I was younger when he accused me of using what he called inappropriate language.”
“Give me a couple of minutes more and you can use the inappropriate actions too. Although appropriate seems to be a better epithet nowadays.”
Draco stood, put his brush down and walked into the bathroom’s doorway. He reached forward and removed Harry’s towel, putting it on the rack. Half a minute later Draco’s hands were ghosting over two delightful mounds of bum-flesh. Harry twitched.
“Stop it Draco – I almost cut my nose off.”
“Don’t you love me anymore then?” Draco asked, using his whiny wheedling voice, moving his hands between Harry’s thighs.
Harry responded by flexing his muscles and gripping the straying hands. “Hold it Lover. Unless you have a Dracula complex and want to drink my blood whilst we fornicate?”
“Ee-ew! All right I’ll be good.” However Draco surreptitiously removed his shorts and coated his cock in oil.
As Harry finished he washed his magi-razor and used the face-flannel to remove the stray bits of shaving cream. Now he had relaxed his leg muscles Draco’s fingers came back to caress again. By the time Harry had rinsed his face and placed his toilet accoutrements in their racks, Draco’s hands were pleasuring two places. One set of lubricated fingers were tickling a prostate and the other set palpitating a pole. Harry leaned forward using the washbasin to support himself, spread his legs and arched his arse. Draco took full advantage, transferring both hands to the palpitating process and his already lubricated lance to the eager orifice winking its allure.
The rocking motion of the train helped their panting consummation and both of them stood for a while before disengaging.
“Thanks, Lover; that was great.” Harry turned round and both of them connected in a long snog.
Eventually they parted and Draco turned to pick some of their discarded clothes off the bed, handing them to Harry who put them in the clothes-basket. Bending to retrieve tomorrow’s clean clothes from the drawer beneath, Draco revealed his pink target. Unable to resist Harry oiled rapidly and inserted just as Draco was finishing.
“Harry!!!! Oh Merlin!!!! Yes-s-s-s-s-s”
Using his cock as leverage Harry lifted Draco on to the bed and took him doggy style. As before; the train’s swaying aided their performance.
Satiated they collapsed and fell to sleep with a hard Harry still plugged in.
- 140
- 141
- 142
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