Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Principle of Sympathy	By : heerayni Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5832 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not Own any part or character from The Harry Potter series, Or The Master of Magics Trilogy, They belong to J.k. Rowling and Lyndon Hardy, i make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
AN: I am massively apologetic for how much time this took. I was called home from work with a major threat from my mom and for some reason the holidays just became a bigger affair than they usually are. And for all its worth, I did not want to rush this. So i didn't. ANd you will appreciate it hopefully by the end of the chapter!:D

I hope you all had a good holiday so far. Happy New year in advance. Long live Drarry!

SMUT ALERT PEOPLE!

SPECIAL THANKS TO : CheektoCheek, DELIA.

**THIS CHAPTER IS DEVOTED TO MY LOVELY STALKER ALEXKDP, WHO I AM SURE IS GOING TO GO BERSERK AFTER THIS!**

Chapter 16. Irrepressible Attraction (part 2)

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference. (Robert Frost)

It was not always this easy, this acceptance of fate, inevitability of loss, endurance of cruelty. No, it was not easy at all. Melancholy and heart-break is something one never gets used to, no matter how much one prepares for it.

The numbness in Draco's chest was more of a brand than an absence of pain. His body needed rest, his mind needed rest, his soul needed rest. But his time was short and he had to do the impossible in that very short window of time.

So the third evening since the 'incident' in the abandoned girl's lavatory found Draco sneaking out of the hospital wing and making his way stealthily towards the room of hidden and forgotten things, taking the cover of supper rush in the corridors.

He had spent the past three nights pondering over a lot of things. Life-threatening injuries have a way of putting everything into sharp focus and the more Draco tried to not focus and put himself off the path his mind and heart wanted to go, the more it became clearer to him, what had to be done? Who was worth saving? Which side to choose?

By the time he turned into the corridor on the seventh floor, he heard voices up ahead in the deserted corridor. Whoever it was, also intended to use the room of requirement, because that was the only visit worthy place on this side of the seventh floor.

He took shelter in a darkened alcove to first see who it was that was about to use the room of requirement, peeking just around the corner, a flash of flickering flame illuminated two heads. One with black, unruly hair the other with long red hair.

Potter and the Weaslette.

Had it been three days ago that Draco was witnessing this, it would have been an endless source of ammunition for designing whole poems of insults around it. As it were. It was three days later, and all Draco could feel was a hollow pain in his chest.

Something deep inside spurred him on for some reason. He did not want to lose this chance of checking on the vanishing cabinet. It was almost fixed and Draco needed to make some final changes. Severus had instructed him that it was imperative that they went through with this plan.

Draco was sure that it was impossible to kill Dumbledore, even if the Death-eaters did come into Hogwarts. His fix of the cupboard was only good for transporting a few people. More than five would be stretching it, and the transport could happen perhaps only a couple of times. And as loathsome as Draco found the nosey Head-master, he thought it impossible that the old man could be subdued by half a dozen death-eaters. If only Draco had known.

He swifted down the corridor casting a very effective invisibility charm alongside a muting charm on himself. Once the wooden door in which Potter and She-weasel had gone into disappeared, Draco walked in front of the blank wall three times, until the door emerged again.

Draco opened it carefully and entered the familiar vaulted chamber that was more of a Hall piled with a plethora of junk and objects that were no longer needed and were forgotten. He traced the familiar path through the piles of junk that in places were high enough to reach the vaulted ceiling. He was about to take the last sharp turn around an impressively high pile of junk when he heard it.

"Give me the book… and close your eyes Harry, trust me, I will hide it somewhere unknown to you, so that you will never be tempted again."

Book? Hiding? Tempting? Harry?

Draco's curiosity was undeniably peaked. What were Harry and the Weaslette doing in the room of hidden things?

He discreetly peeked around the corner, tucking himself again into the shadows of the already dimly lit room, careful despite the invisibility charm, the way his luck was these days he did not want to take any chances.

Potter stood eyes closed and hands raised forward almost reluctantly he handed over the said book to Weaslette. Draco watched closely as Weaslette backed away from Potter and walked across a low pile on the other side where lay an ancient and dusty toy chest underneath a lot of other junk, before she carefully opened and placed the dark covered book inside. The chest was incidentally part of the pile of junk directly opposite to where Draco had hidden the Vanishing cabinet.

His attention was claimed again as the Weaslette walked back to Potter gingerly and before Draco could figure it out.

She was kissing Potter and Potter was kissing her back.

And in that moment, something inside Draco cracked.

To see them entwined around each other so intimately.

Draco cursed his vantage point, from where he could see their lips locked and bodies moving against each other.

It did not look or seem like a first kiss.

It must not be.

His vision blurred a little. And he realized that he had tears in his eyes.

He felt the unfamiliar anger. A betrayal. Deep within his veins. It was paralyzing.

And so he kept standing there in the dark. Watching, wondering if that would be forever his place.

After a few agonizing moments, the couple parted, faces flushed, eyes shining.

And Draco wondered, if he could even wish for a kiss. The one he could claim to cherish for a life time. One that could be the last living memory of his.

But Draco knew that the path he was about to choose would probably see his death before the end of the year. For once the realization was a balm. He would not have to witness this again in case he died. He would be free of pain, free of wanting something that could never be his.

Draco did not die.

And Draco took the book.

For years to come. That one kiss would haunt Draco more than any horrors he had to face, but even more than that kiss three words would haunt Draco. A little inscription in the margin of one of the pages.

" Sectumsempra – For enemies"

"His eyes don't leave you for more than a few moments at a time."

I simply grunt as elegantly as I can in response to Erik's statement.

"Must be excruciating, this vow of distancing yourself that you have made."

I look at him as blandly I can to show him my disapproval of this meddling

"Must be a torment, not being able to look at the object of your desire because they are looking at you and you are stubborn and masochistic enough to deny yourself the rapture that is all yours."

He pauses for a moment and I find myself hoping that he would pass on.

"Yes, one look, it all starts with the eyes of course. First the eyes feast on the countenance of your desire, then the flesh comes awake and then the souls meet with the first touch of the lips. Before the meeting of the eyes, it's all just hypothetical, so I can understand why you refuse to look."

I still refuse to meet his eyes. Cursing the moment I decided to come with the Minister's entourage

"I hope you have seen enough though, that you have realized that he is flaunting himself tonight, and not for anyone else but you..."

"What do you want Stoltorm?" I snap at him to my own disappointment. Only to see a satisfied smirk on his face before it turn to a different kind of smile, which is a little melancholy and wistful.

"I want you to seize the opportunity Draco. Your abstinence will do no favors to you. He desires you back. He wants to possess you. Little does he know that he already does. Would you really let this go? Just because you have grown so used to the constant hurt? What is your life worth living for if not for this? I know fulfillment can be just as scary as bereavement for the way you have conducted yourself so far, but…"

He has to cut-off mid-sentence when Harry takes the dais most graciously amongst the applause. And I can finally look at him. Though most of him is hidden behind the dais still.

I realize at once as he starts speaking that this is a very different Harry. This is where he has changed. Where once he was a gawky awkward and shy teenager, he is now a charismatic, powerful and confident crowd-pleaser. I wonder what orchestrated such change? Or if it is a change at all and not a façade. He is beautiful in his bashful confidence. Shamelessly flirting with the crowd. The Harry I knew in school was the exact opposite of this persona. No matter how much I accused him of being a show off back in the days, I always knew that it was not true. Which frustrated me even more as a child because I just could not relate to his angle. I could not understand why he could not embrace his hero-status. Why he chose modest friends, terrible clothing, those ghastly spectacles, hideous haircut…

At this moment he is the exact opposite of that boy. Now he has strong and influential yet sincere friends, He is wearing a wonderful and most appropriate and tastefully fashionable outfit, the spectacles are gone and now he mesmerizes the crowd with his stunning green eyes, and the haircut… well its still messy, but tastefully so.

I am brought out of my thoughts when I hear one or both of the Weasley twins say

"Hermione give him his scarf and then we'll talk."

The said muggleborn pulls it out with a flourish from the inside pocket of Harry's jacket and put it around his neck.

I notice that it's the same Snow-silver Liberty of London formal silk scarf that I am wearing tonight.

"Hmmm… Matching scarves, I know a courtship when I see one." Erik whispers next to me.

"Must be a coincidence… I bought it from a Muggle store." I say before I can stop myself. I absolutely do not want to acknowledge Erik's poking in this matter.

"Then perhaps it is another sign…" he looks at me smugly, too smugly.

"I don't see how it is of any concern to you."

"No, but it is of concern to you, and you are my friend, and what kind of friend would I be if I did not… push you in the right direction."

I know that I have already said too much and encouraged Erik too much so I keep my silence as Harry starts talking about charities in question.

The information that provided me with is extremely impressive. Not only has Harry and co. been successful in setting up various charitable funds for those in need. They have also set up very impressive institutes as well. I am very surprised to see that the new project of training young witches and wizards is named after Severus. If anything, that is what I really want to talk to Harry about. As bizarre as it may be, I feel between me and him, Severus would be a safe and bonding topic even if i don't know how exactly Severus was able to redeem himself. Perhaps Dumbledore's portrait gave up some kind of information that had explained Severus' extremely difficult role in the whole war. Or maybe Harry had somehow found out about Severus and his mother.

Harry's speech is to the point, thanks everyone without over-doing it and keeps everyone interested in the details too. If he looks like an eye-candy, it is just a bonus at this point.

The audience becomes more lax and less focused once the name call starts and I realize that at some point I will have to go as well. The Donation I made for the carnival yesterday was for my own satisfaction, the donation I made for the gala is a publicity stunt. Which is why I wished to stay anonymous with the carnival donation. It would be too much for the people to comprehend. The last thing I want to do is over do it.

I know I should be ashamed of myself, but I take the cover of the dimmed light and while the whole hall applauds politely in honor or all the charitable donors who have contributed tonight, I shamelessly watch Harry. He smiles and announces name after name as if on auto-pilot. I just want to watch him, feel him saying my name. I don't know exactly what I am looking for and despite Erik's constant egging I refuse to set expectations, but I can still not shrug off the feeling that before the end of the night, things will come to head finally.

I know that by this time, the list is bound to come to an end and my name would have to come up.

And it does come up.

"The Last name on the list…" which must be mine.

"…is the one I never imagined that I would see on this list, because most of us thought him lost to us for almost seven years…" yes, that is definitely me and I wonder why he is making such a big deal out of this.

"…Most of us believed that the mantle of the Malfoy name will never be taken again, and one of the most ancient and respected families in the wizarding world would fade…" Wow, that is most dramatic, is he teasing me?

"…I am grateful and Happy to announce to you all that that won't be happening, and I want everyone here to give Lord Draco Malfoy a huge round of applause not just as a welcome back gesture, but also for his generosity, for he has contributed the most to tonight's donation funds." I stand up from my seat, wondering if I should fee appalled or flattered. I would never have in my life imagined to be cornered like this by Harry Potter. I pointedly ignore Erik who I know is smiling smugly, and walk towards the podium where the minister stands with Professor McGonagall. It's a long damn walk, and I am nervous because of the really sincere applause.

They are applauding and welcoming back a death-eater who was son of a death-eater. I asked about this welcoming me back into the society. All he said was, that Death has a way of making people forgive even the worse of deeds. The death of all death-eaters after that megalomaniac's destruction was more revenge than people and victims of the war could dish out, and it was pretty absolute and painful. People took it as a sign of divine intervention. The ultimate punishment. And so the fact that I survived the dark-mark advocates my alleged innocence and while people may have many opinions regarding the conditions in which I got it, Harry's part in the trials against the Malfoy family sealed the opinion even more firmly.

The receiving of the certificate and pleasantries goes by in a thoughtful blur and then he fills my vision.

Close, so close, too close… I am sure I startle most ungraciously but he is grinning in that strange excited way of his. His eyes hopeful.

Sign! Sign! Sign! My mind is chanting, and I have never hated Erik Stoltorm more in my life than this moment, for putting theories into my head.

And then it all gets lost somewhere as he closes the space between us and his arms are around me like sturdy bindings. Its unexpected enough that I freeze in my place. My mind and body and soul screaming at me.

He smells of Air and cinnamon and fresh green apples. He smells of life and effort and leather. His cheek touches the side of mine, and it's the magic fusing jolts that brings me out of my frozen state. He should not be this close to me, it can have strange consequences. But he does not seem in the mood of letting go in next few seconds. His arms around my shoulders press me to his chest. But this is something extremely different for whatever happened in the Elevator.

There is an offer of friendship here and I am not entirely sure if I can take it.

He finally decides to let go and I haphazardly summon all my Malfoy demure to deal with the aftermath of this disaster. He does not let of my arms as we part to a certain distance.

Before he totally undoes me with those green eyes so up close, I say the first thing my cool Malfoy persona conjures into his ear.

"Nice scarf Potter."

It comes out more forcefully than I expect and that is before I realize how lame the come back was.

'Yes, Draco be a darling and point out the only other thing that can embarrass you more than your startled reaction to arms full of Potter.'

I hate myself.

I hate him.

So I smile the best smile I have in my arsenal.

A smile that neither accepts nor decline the offer of platonic friendship.

The veins that are connected from my heart to my fingers have this strange ache in them once I internally pose myself the idea of a platonic friendship with Harry Potter.

It will kill me, the ache tells me.

But can I refuse the gift so graciously given me?

"Thank You…"

He says sincerely.

"For the compliment or the donation?" I ask stupidly hopeful. I don't know if he reads it, because he sort of looks self-absorbed at this point.

He is a walking talking contradiction. I don't think I can say that enough.

And maybe that is precisely why I find myself falling deeper and deeper for him, every passing day.

"both…but I do have a favor to ask of you…" he says.

"Really Potter? After all I have already done?" I ask him in a teasing way. In my head I shuffle across possible favors he can ask of me hundred per second.

"Yes…" he says simply, I look at him expectantly keeping my smile up and raising a questioning brow at him. But his expression is almost nervous for the first time tonight.

Oh please divine deity! Let this not be something absolutely devastating. There only so much of masochism I can take.

When he does not speak for next few seconds, I verbally consent. Knowing full well that I maybe verbally consenting to heart-break.

"I would like to have a dance with you…" he says.

Oh dead Merlin, what is this new torture.

It is as if the whole universe is working against me.

He looks nervous yet hopeful. And that hopeful face can melt rocks and he does not even know how susceptible I am to his charm. His unknowing claims.

There is no way I can refuse. That has never been an option.

"You would like that wouldn't you?" I ask, I need to keep my composure here. I do not need to think about me and him holding hands in close proximity, in middle of the dance floor. No matter how ridiculous a dancer he is.

"Only on the condition, that I will be leading… I saw you dancing at the Yule ball and I can't allow that to happen again." I say defensively, giving myself a very false sense of control.

"I think you are about to be pleasantly surprised." He says smiling at me, and if I did not know any better I would say he was flirting.

Which is absolutely ridiculous, just as much when Erik keeps suggesting it, But true nonetheless.

I watch him saunter away confidently.

Before I know it, through the daze of aftermath of scolding myself and agreeing to dance with 'him', the Bachelor auction is Halfway through. With Luna Lovegood announcing the candidates.

I wonder who thought it would be wise to put Luna Lovegood up for the purpose of conducting a frivolous Bachelor auction. When I was in school I had heard of her ridiculous attempt at commentating for a Quidditch match.

"This is very amusing, I must say. I have never been to a bachelor Auction before." Erik Stoltorm is grinning in that lascivious and shrewd way when his thoughts are full of vulgar mischief.

"It is not the way you are thinking, this is not like the roleplaying slave auction you and your dark band of law-enforcements buddies used to play in Transylvania…Don't get so excited.."

"Really? That's a shame, I had my eye on number 13." He pouts waving a printed gold leaf card at me before he puts it in front of me and stands up to saunter to where the crowd of potential buyers are standing.

"Though, I wouldn't mind sharing with you…you only need ask!" he winks at me buttoning up his handsome dark plum robe and making his way towards the crowd that parts for him like the red sea.

I look at the card that lays in front of me before I reach for it and turn it over to see the list of the Bachelors participating in the auction tonight. There in the end of the list is Bachelor Number 13

"Lord Harry James Potter-Black"

I look up towards the crowd, behind which somewhere stands Harry, but still before it stands Erik Stoltorm watching me and raising a challenging eye brow at me as our eyes meet.

I turn away from him showing dis-interest. And yes I am un-interested in bidding for Potter, no I would not embarrass myself like a fish monger.

No need in bidding for what I know will be mine.

I am fucking DRACO MALFOY.

I sit participating passively in the conversation that is happening around the table I am seated in between Minister and some other paper-pushers and brokers I would rather not know name of.

My ears though are trained also on the progress of the auction which is just a candidate away from Harry Potter. And then after a rather short bidding on number 12. Its number 13.

"Number 13 is Harry James Potter, also known formally as Lord Harry James Potter-Black. He is 24 years old and already an accomplished senior auror. He used to play seeker for his home team at Hogwarts. Harry likes flying, treacle–tart and spending time with friends. Harry also volunteers for various charities and is very fond of romantic walks on the beach and sex in the shower…"

I almost startle visibly. Did she just say what I think she said? No… I must have been mistaken. Though the pregnant silence says otherwise.

And just then, in a split second, my mind shuffles to the memory of a shower I had not so long ago, and instead of my lonely quivering body underneath the shower it shows 'Him' pressed against me. As water plasters our hair to our faces. Pleasuring each other with our hands, finger not laboring for mutual pleasure scrabbling and worshipping any piece of skin they can find of the other, lips locked in an unbreakable kiss, breathless, wet and naked under the silver rivulets of warm water caressing his golden and my pale skin.

STOP!

I scream at myself internally. Only to find that the crowd around me is now cheering through bidding that has somehow reached up to Three thousand Galleons.

And its between Parvati Patil and…

Erik Stoltorm!

I could fucking kill him.

Fire surges through my veins. But I keep it simmering and don't jump up and streak like a comet through the crowd.

Well, more than My Malfoy coolness in exacting revenge it is my aching erection that prevents me from rash actions.

Patil falter when Erik offers Forty-five hundred Galleons.

I am at my patience end. I am probably going to regret this later. No I am very sure I am going to regret this later. And not only that, my Erection has not fully subsided still. Just the thrill of winning over Harry Potter is enough to maintain it. I am truly pathetic.

"So going on 4500 galleons once… Twice…"

I Showily put the wand to my neck, pretending to cast a slight sonorous, as the minister and others watch me amused.

"Ten thousand Galleons and lets just move on?" I say in the most careless way I can manage.

There is a murmur that goes through the crowd, and Luna quiets for a moment, from where I am sitting I cannot see Harry or Luna or Erik for that matter, which is just the way I want it. I expect a counter bid of at least Twenty thousand galleons to come next. Knowing that Erik and I should we wish can go on forever. But it does not come.

"Alright, Ten-thousand Galleons for Harry Potter and the gift bag, going Once…Twice…? Sold! Harry Potter is sold to Draco Malfoy for Ten-thousand Galleons, which is the highest bid ever for this particular bachelor auction's history."

The applause and hooting goes off everywhere and I am starting to realize what I have just done. Why Erik never counter-bid me. I walked straight into it. And now I have a movie and a dinner date with Harry Potter. Quite a deviation from the original plan of staying away from him it is. Just like he is unable to do.

I will not bother you Malfoy,

Yet asks me for a dance. Hugs me any chance he gets in public.

Which makes me move to action as I have to receive my prize from the stage.

My prize that still has me half aroused with only an idea of him liking shower sex.

I am such a ponce!

I carefully arrange my robe as I walk through the crowd towards my destination where stands Harry Potter. Almost blushing.

Don't be nice Draco. You can't have him hugging you with the state you are in. It will be a little too evident. Keep him at an arm's length, and nowhere near your 'length'.

So I put up a mask. Mask to hide my emotions… erection.

It is going well, though he looks a little disappointed. But things come to head when Erik intervenes. And says something about the Lord of the Rings movie. I am determined to ignore him. My control is on the knife's edge as it is. But Harry Potter has to go in and be gracious of the suggestion. It almost sears my heart with a strange sort of jealousy. He does not even know what he does to me. And he would talk so graciously to someone who was bidding for him. For all he knows, carnal reasons?

So I lash out, and its as bad as kicking a puppy, making a child drop his ice-cream, putting a favorite stuffed toy just out of reach.

"I don't think I can stand sitting next to Potter for so long a duration…" I say pulling away from him. And the smug look almost melts off of Erik's face as he shoots a look at Harry, and then at me, his eyes almost pleading at me.

And I understand in that moment, that Erik had played it so that I would have Harry in the end of the bid without giving away too much of my dignity.

"Well, you should have thought that before you bid for me, now I am honor-bound to take you to a movie and dinner."

There are so many cruel things he could have said back, but he hasn't. And I just feel worse for it.

By the time I look back at Erik, he is excusing himself. I also am about to turn around when Harry grabs for my arm. But what comes out of his mouth is least of what I expect.

"This changes nothing about the dance though; I will still have my turn-about with you." He says leaning towards me. Annoyance and determination etched in his voice. I turn back towards him, and our faces come dangerously close together.

"I didn't think it did… Come find me when its time."

I find myself drifting away from the crowd and tables full of people high from quality cocktails and dessert. I find myself leaning against a window half in shadow half in light. Just like I have always been.

My mind is strangely blank. As if on a precipice of making a decision. My eyes reflexively find him. Sitting next to McGonagall. Happy and serene. Though I can clearly see there is a tremor just under the surface. He himself is on the verge of a revelation. I wonder if that revelation has something to do with me? Should I dare to imagine even? I shouldn't. I owe him a dance and it would not be right if I am less than decent. I deserve a dance at least. For those few moments, to have him all to myself.

I see him leading McGonagall with tender care towards the dance floor, and watch him leading her into a very slow and serene waltz. He is smiling. Beautiful, like the sun. So full of life tonight. So handsome and charming.

And the feeling of rightness about all I had to do to see him here, so alive and happy in a world he has built so much better than the one before it, fills me up to the brim. It's sobering and intoxicating at the same time. Like a euphoria. I close my eyes and lean against the wall behind me feasting on his smiling visage behind my eyelids.

I don't know how long I stand there. Feeling his proximity dancing in my chest. I stand there loving and cherishing it with every deep breath. And then it subtly grows warmer and warmer and I know he reaches for me. For the dance he is determined to have. I open my eyes just in time and straighten up as he reaches for me. and holds his hand forward.

Oh how I will give anything from my flesh, bones soul and psyche to hold that hand and never let go of it.

"Shall we?" he asks.

I put away my untouched drink and take his hand in ascent.

His hand is warm and calloused in mine. And I know I am tethered to him for eternity. Whether he ever notices me following in his shadow or no, I will be there, right behind him, like an invisible kite with a string bound to his wrist, at time flying high in the sky when the wind is favorable, and at others dragging after him punctured and broken, but still following, until there is none left of me.

I have destroyed myself for him once. Second time it will only come naturally.

I am brought out of reverie when he pulls me onto the dance floor.

I sneak an arm around him, playfully to make up to him my absence of mind.

He smiles at me and sneaks his other arm around my waist bringing us closer. And I notice his eyes shine at the proximity.

"You don't know the song, so I guess since I can't lead, you can't either…" he informs me in a whisper. And I can only see his eyes. Green and shining and mesmerizing. Appraising me. Telling me so much.

I find that during past Eight years, he has become quite the dancer. Almost as graceful and sneaky in dance moves as he was in seeking the snitch. I admit that its been a while since I danced at all, but it had been ingrained into me from such a young age that I never really have to think about it. He leads me at time and at others I lead him. Its perfect between us and I compliment him on it. And between us, there is nothing at the moment. And I can't believe what I am seeing in his eyes.

Passion, affection, determination and desire.

He desires me. And perhaps it goes further than desire. I am too afraid to acknowledge.

He is searing me. He does not know how hard it is for me to not love him when he hates me. But to see love and want in his eyes so naked? I don't think I will survive this.

I can't stop myself at last when it becomes unmistakable between us.

I need to give him fair warning. And hope that he takes it, and die if he does.

And die if he doesn't either.

"This has the potential of devastating us Harry. It is courting fire."

I say solemnly. With as much resolve as I can conjure. I might still be mistaken.

Only I am not.

"I don't care. I've played with fire before and survived." His words and face are so raw and open that my composure crumbles at last. This is more painful than when I had to rip my soul apart.

I am breaking down in his arms. He needs to know, he needs to understand so much before he loves me and then hates me for it. It would be a fate worse than death.

"There is so much that you don't know, so much I am, so much I am not, so much I have done…"

I want to tell him that I am a monster. Who killed in cold blood. And lied and cheated and betrayed… I am tainted. His arms around me tighten instead of letting go.

"What I don't know, what you are, what you are not and what you have done… you will tell me."

It will destroy us. I try to move away from him only to have him take hold of my hand and lead me out. I can hardly see where we are going. I am too conflicted. I want to tell all and hide everything at the same time.

Before long I find myself standing face to face with him in a secluded corner in a garden. I feel a light magic surrounding us. A privacy charm. I feel more composed all of sudden and look up at him where he stands in front of me inches away.

"I need you to…" he pleads with me. Regarding what, I cannot say. He leans his head forward clenching his eyes closed and taking a deep breath

He is nervous and afraid. Of what? I can't say.

"I need you to stop playing with me Draco. It must be obvious by now…"he pauses again and just stares at me.

Yes it must be obvious by now that I am so much in love with you that I can die. How can you not see that? How can you doubt it? After all that has happened between us the past few weeks how can you not see it?

"It must be obvious by now that I am at your mercy here. What I feel for you, I have not ever felt a fraction of it for anyone else. I need to know. I need to know where you stand. I need to know… If I even have a chance here? At all? I need to know, and I need to know tonight Draco. Please. I am in constant torment… I can hardly function, I am so numb to everything that is not you… So please!"

You have been blind Harry, just as I have been. So terrified of acknowledgement, so terrified of Joy, for it is alien to us. So afraid to give in, so ready to give up. Why are we so in favor of pain instead of joy?

I can only laugh bitterly at the irony.

"You see, you have got it all wrong Harry." And I can see he misunderstands me, as pain washes over his beautiful face. I continue somehow, without being distracted, it can mean life and death at this moment.

"You see, you don't get the fact, that it has always been the other way around. I have always been the one at you mercy. What you feel for me is not a fraction of what I feel for you in return, In this I am certain. "

I pause for a second as comprehension dawns over his face. The pain is swiped away to give way to hope. I realize I don't care what I will have to do to keep this hope on his face. I will lie, kill, hide, beg, steal to keep it there. To hell with righteousness. I am a Slytherin anyway, secrets are our style. I will have my Harry and I will keep him too. Because he wants it just as much as I do. And we both deserve it.

Tell the truths that matter, that make you strong, Hide the rest that makes you weak and wither. And what use is it to tell when most of it is unchangeable. So I tell the truth.

"You have been center of my universe for so long that I have not developed a sensation for anything else other than you in the first place. Seven years in forgotten exile, and yet I dreamt of you every single time I closed my eyes…"

He doesn't let me complete, and I am only too grateful of that, just a moment before gratefulness turns to delirium as he surges forwards as do I and find each other's lip as it was the most natural thing. As if we have been doing it for centuries.

There is no hesitation now. I am done with that. There is only me and mine now. Harry and Draco, Draco and Harry.

It's a kiss to undermine existence of the phenomenon itself as we melt into each other. Magics mingling effortlessly seeming together perfectly. And then its rapture. As I feel the sensation of taste for the first time in seven years.

He tastes sweet. And I remember what sweetness tastes like and I find myself insatiable for it. He tastes of salty familiar and warm magic. He tastes of life, and passion and all-consuming fire. His lips are poetry in motion and I feel as if I am being resurrected from the ashes as our arms pull each other close and out of the quicksand of pain, the depths of which has forged us into these vulnerable yet indestructible specimens that are puzzle pieces.

And then I forget about serenading inside my mind also as the rest of our bodies join the fray. I can feel the heat of his beating heart under my fingers his harsh breath washing against mine as we share air greedily between us. His hands are firm and possessive on my hip and my shoulder and I can only feel rapturous for it.

He breaks the kiss for air eventually. And it's hardly fair. I feel bereft. I want to taste again. He must understand and feel the same way as he keeps coming back for short kisses. Just lips against lips. It's too much for me. So I dive in to kiss his chin, the tip of his nose, his jaw. His cupid's bow.

But Harry Potter knows how to steal the moment and the show.

"Can I come with you to the Manor?" He asks. Eyes shining with hope.

He certainly can, but will I allow him to leave is another question entirely.

I am more than Thank full for being the master of the Malfoy Manor, which allows me to apparate directly inside the manor.

Perhaps because of haste, or the fact that we kissed our way through apparation and I am delirious, and aroused and just insane with ecstasy, I by mistake apparate us into my old bedroom instead of the Bordeaux suite as Harry is half way tearing through the buttons of my robe and impatiently undoing the scarf around my neck at the same time.

He pauses. And so do I. The room is bare, walls still singed and marked in places. Only the structure of the four-poster bed and the dresser remains . With its oval mirror reflecting the bareness of the room. The mattress and all furnishings are gone too.

"What in the name of Merlin happened here?" Harry gasped, eyes wide, lips obscenely yet deliciously red, making my gut clench in desire.

"Target practice." I say quickly diverting him into another kiss and apparate him into the Bordeaux suite.

"Oi! A little warning next time!" he chuckles into my mouth. As he stumble back mercifully into the bed taking me with him. I detach our mouths for a moment to look down at him in the soft light of the room.

And I love him. I love him so much that it makes my heart stutter for a moment. I love him and he is with me, under me, smiling up at me, reaching for me, touching me.

"Please God, let this be real." I whisper more to myself than him.

His smile fades a little.

"This has to be real, because if this was a dream, these button would not be so hard to undo." He says breathlessly. As he traces a finger over the numerous that still remain intact and looped.

I cannot help but chuckle at him. At his strange naivete, and adorable breathlessness. He is a miracle. Dare I believe now?

"Seriously Potter, there is something called magic you know…" I move above him a little to undo them wandlessly when he captures my hand in mid twist.

"No… This is my prize Malfoy, and I will unravel it." He says, the heat in his eyes smoldering. And I lose my balance when he tangles his leg between mine and with a slight heave has turned us over, caging me under him.

"And... is this mine?" I ask, hypnotized and entranced. As I trace hip Adam's apple with the tip of my index finger, feeling it move under my finger as he swallows.

"It is… If you will have it." He whispers, his pronouncement followed by a kiss to the tip of my finger that had found its way to his bottom lip.

"I dare say I will." I barely am able to answer before he joins his lips to mine again. This time it is an expression. As he softly sucks on my upper lip and then the bottom one. Nipping it at it, trapping it between his and running the tip of his tongue on it again and again, until it tingles with sensation. I resign to my fate of being kissed into oblivion, that is if I don't explode of arousal. His tongue finds the line of my teeth then, running over it, exploring, and I attempt to capture it, without hurting, but it's too deft, elusive and curious, and then he finds it counterpart, who is just happy enough to lay back and enjoy the attention and just taste its lover. The kiss goes on and on, open mouth, gasping, tasting exploring, familiarizing.

And it takes me quite a while to realize that during the long leisurely kiss I am not the only one who has been at work of undoing the buttons of his silk shirt, he has unraveled his present to the last layer as well.

He finally lets me up so that we are both sitting up on bed as he straddles me. He slowly pulls off my robe and shirt off my shoulder and delicately off my arms. Touching every piece of revealing skin reverently.

"You are breath-taking." He says before his eyes zero in on something on my neck. I know it's the mark he left the other day in the elevator. It would never totally fade. It is a claiming mark. The first one made by the mate my magic accepts.

I skim impatiently at his shoulders and shrug off his shirt as well revealing golden skin. His chest is clear and muscles sculpted like a statue of Adonis. Broad golden shoulders, the perked up nipples a dark shade of skin-pink, shaped and defined washboard abs with a drop shaped belly button in the middle like a flower bud growing between smooth stone slabs. He is even more beautiful than I ever dared to imagine. I detect a few faint scars here and there on his perfectly muscled biceps. Strong and sturdy and all encompassing. His chiseled forearms peppered with soft dark and downy hair.

'This is my Harry, and he is glorious.'

He chuckles and I realize I said that out loud.

"Yours yes... Glorious or hideous, yours!"

And that is as clear a declaration as any. And God help me, but I will have my Harry. Mine, keep him mine!

He pushes me back to lay down again as he descends to kiss every inch of me. Especially across the lightning bolt faint scar. His fingers skim over the newly but completely healed scar on my waist, his eyes finding mine for a second as if telling me that I would be answering for it in near future before he descends again. It's a sweet torture, to have his lips on me so relentlessly. He is merciless in his praise. Kissing, nipping sucking and my nipples until I can't breathe or stay still. Dragging his teeth across my stomach, dipping his tongue into my belly button as he undoes the clasp of my trousers. Kissing and licking at the unraveling skin before he finally rubs against my confined penis, bulging and aching against the confines of my boxer briefs.

I hiss at the friction and the confinement. He tucks his fingers inside the waist band of both my trousers and briefs, but pauses. I look up at him to find him looking at me in a silent question.

Fucking Gryffindor Nobility! I am too incensed to speak so I put my hands on his push both the garments down arching my back upwards to help him remove them. He unstraddles me and steps off the bed to remove them totally as I toe-off my shoes before he reaches all the way down. It only hits me a few seconds later, as I lay there panting and impatient to have his weight above me again just how bare naked I am until I see his eyes trained on me as he removes my socks. Placing each foot on his chest as he kneels at the foot of the bed.

All of a sudden I am too conscious of myself. Too vulnerable. As he caresses my feet and then my ankles and then knees before reaching my thighs, which quiver under his blazing touch as he spreads them slowly, massaging the soft insides making it hard for me to breathe.

"Oh Draco…I have never seen a more beautiful sight." He says huskily, his eyes finding mine full of heat and his fingers trace the V of my waist and leg joint. It is an especially sensitive area and when I least expect it, he swoops in like hawk and licks a line across the joint only stopping before he reaches the line that joins to my penis. It's flushed pink and swollen against my stomach and I don't know how long I can stand this torture any longer.

My hands grab for the duvet to hold on to something, but for a while all I can feel is his warm breath over the over-sensitive skin just under my navel.

And then his weight is off of me again. Bewildered and panicking I shoot up and am relieved to see him standing just a step away from the bed undoing the buckle of his belt hastily as he toes off his socks and I can hardly stand it, so I run on instinct, as I find myself flowing down the bed to kneel in front of him just as he straightens from removing his trousers and underwear in one go.

"Oh dear Merlin Draco!" he gasps as he finds me kneeling in front of him my face aligned to the most beautiful cock I have ever seen recognizing the intent in my eyes. It seems that there will never be any misunderstanding when it comes to the physical relationship.

I admit that I have no idea how to operate here, my experience with a blowjob had been at the receiving end and that too in seventh year, when Blaise was experimenting still. I remembered crying myself to sleep afterwards for in my heart I was betraying Harry. And then the next day the resentment had come, as my mind depicted Harry having sex with Granger, since they were so conveniently incognito.

I caress his abs shaking my head out of thoughts of the past. I am inexperienced, that's true,

But I will be damned if that will stop me. I have imagined this too many times to go wrong with it. Waited too long. Though I admit yet again that not even my imagination had done justice to what was in front of me right now.

Harry is graciously endowed to put it modestly. And I figure that I would probably do worse if I keep thinking about technicalities. But before I can swoop in with my determination, I feel his finger skimming into my long hair in a comforting gesture and I close my eyes and dip forward, kissing the moist tip of his cock and without missing a beat as he groans above me, I lick half way down on the underside, skimming my tongue tugging at the already tightening fore-skin. I twist a hand around it experimentally to gain a most delicious moan from Harry as his fingers tighten in my hair, stimulating my scalp. My confidence surges from there on as I lavish him with thick wet licks all over. Not caring about how wanton I must look and only caring about making him moan louder and louder. It's not long before I figure out what he likes particularly. I suck relentlessly on the tip of his cock soothing it with the flat of my tongue every now and then and slithering the tip of it just inside his slit, his salty taste is sharp and addictive in my mouth and I can't get enough of it, rest of his length I cover and rub with my thankfully long fingers that are able to just hold it with effort due to its considerable girth.

He gasps and moans and chants my name again and again like a mantra, boosting my confidence, making me feel the power of having Harry Potter so out of sorts and loving every moment of it.

"Oh Draco! Draco! So fucking beautiful…" I look up at his face to find his eyes trained on me, his lower lip tucked almost brutally between his teeth and his face flushed to golden red. He hardly lets me suck one more time and then he is pulling me up almost violently into a kiss before I have even straightened up fully.

He devours my mouth like it's the last taste of life he is going to get, his calloused hand taking a firm grip of my cock which has grown harder most unexpectedly during my sucking of his cock like a lollipop.

I can hardly stand as it is before he is leading me back towards on to the bed. Kissing frantically still but breaks it off once we are almost onto it.

"What do you want Draco?" he asks suddenly, his voice serious as is his expression. I am hardly coherent so it takes me a few second to really understand what he is asking. It has a rather simple answer really.

"Everything… I want everything… Give me everything Harry, there is no question really…Give, take, make, break… everything!" He kisses me. And boy are these kisses addictive. It is like exchanging pieces of one's soul, back and forth.

In the heart of my heart, I am absolutely terrified. Not of the act itself, but of my inexperience. Yet in the heart of my heart, I know that it will be just fine.

We stumble back on to bed, this time more towards the center. His knees between mine before the push mine to open a little wider and then guiding his erect member by hand to trace over my Erect and leaking one. I grow bold and reach down to fondle his heavy firm sacks. He chuckles and groans at the same time. Before his eyes are locked with mine. We watch each other as our hands are busy downstairs. He licks his swollen lips, looking absolutely debauched and disheveled at this point. I wonder what I look like. It must be something good since he can't take his eyes off me.

"Do you… Do you have something we can use to…?"

I am not that inexperienced.

I flick my wrist towards the night stand where I know Monk has placed some muscle soothing and relaxing massage oils which I often need after my practice sessions.

The drawer opens smoothly and a medium sized bottle flies out of it like a bullet, but Harry's seeker reflexes are still intact it seems as he catches it effortlessly.

He leans down on top of me his face close to mine, eyes sincere and full of desire and dare I say love?

"I am going to make love to you, now would be a good time to stop me if you don't want it..." he says his voice husky yet powerful.

"What part of 'everything' does your thick head not get?"

The smile that breaks on his face is like sunrise. As he closes the few inches to kiss me again.

He uncorks the bottle carefully after placing a pillow under my hips. And coats his fingers generously, I watch him keenly as he keeps shooting looks at me and then between my legs which are spread open for him, to eventually receive him and be one.

And then I am being touched with a slick finger in the most intimate place of my body. I have done this for myself many times. Excessively in my teenage years when the only way to decrease the pressure of nerves was to exhaust myself sexually into a deep sleep. But this is different. To be touched there by someone else, who is just trying to feel their way around your clenching defenses, hardly knowing what might hurt you. Which is impossible to tell of a Malfoy, who are born stoic and sarcastic. But Harry is considerate. I can see his arousal straining and red, yet he is patient with me. Coaxing the clenched pucker of muscles to give way, slowly, lovingly, as it loosens slightly on its own accord. My body trusts Harry to the point of being out of my own control. Of how I ever imagined that I would not be spread out like this for him ever in my life, is a mystery right now as nothing has ever felt more natural than my body opening so easily to receive the one, the only one it has ever desired.

It's not long before his finger is penetrating me, slick and careful. More than me he is moaning at the tightness yet willingness of my flesh. He keeps looking up into my eyes. Reading my face for signals of pain, ecstasy, I don't know.

His other hands starts to move towards my cock, but I stop him, to prevent myself from coming prematurely.

He eventually adds second finger and then third in the same pace. Steady, undemanding and careful. And then he rubs against that special spot inside me almost jolting me with a wave of pleasure.

"I am ready Harry… it's enough…" I am ashamed of whining.

"Just a little more Draco… I don't want to hurt you." He whispers, before peppering my face with kisses and latching on to my nipple, sucking at it distractingly as I squirm as the stimulation in cover of which he adds a fourth finger. And I feel the pressure for the first time, almost on the verge of pain, but not really, I am almost used to it, when suddenly all of them gone.

I snap open my eyes harry coating himself vigorously, as his proud penis stands erect and intimidating between his impressively muscled thighs.

And then he is there in a swift moment, when I feel I am about to burst with anticipation again. His length presses against the inside of my thigh as he drags me closer with his powerful hands. I hook my arms under knees and spread myself open. I am needy now.

"Oh Fuck Draco!" he exclaims at my wantonness or my flexibility, I don't know.

And then he is entering me. And I am most thankful for the seemingly endless preparation I received before-hand, because if he was big in my mouth and my hand, he is humungous in my arse. I have never had something so big inside me, and the stretch seems impossible, but somehow not unbearable. He slides in inch by inch, and as he gains territory, it becomes easier and easier for some strange reason.

And I realize that the muscle relaxant oil was an un-intended miracle.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he whispers as he slides in almost to the hilt. Face flushed, lips raw and sweat coating most of him and me as well. His eyes darting between my face and then the point of our connection. I arch up to him for a kiss which he obliges me with.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yessss! Move… Now!" I demand.

He does, and he knows slowly won't cut it. So its swift and fast before he eases back into me, this time easier than before but not any less a tight fit.

"OH! MY FUCKING MERLIN! DRACO! You will be the death of me…"

You have no idea how much of a turn on that is for me.

"You better not die Harry! Not before you have fucking made love to me thorough and proper!" I hiss at him.

He hisses back, only I don't understand a word of what he says.

But it's fucking mind-blowing.

And then he is gaining momentum and speed, pulling out, plunging in, and before long I am almost too incoherent as he starts hitting my prostate on every other stroke.

It's everything I dared not to dream of. Its ecstasy, delirium, love-making and down-right dirty fucking all wrapped in one. And I am not sure how much more of it I can take. More than the sensation it's my name on his lips desperate and repetitive. At this moment I am sure I am the center of his universe as he has always been mine.

And then those thoughts also drain out of me as his hand finally grabs for my neglected cock and has hardly stroked twice and I am falling over the edge. Pleasure bursting through my veins as my body jolts and clenches down, wave, after wave after wave. It goes on and on enhancing the tightness between us even more as something inside me explodes and through the white noise I hear someone yell my name as warmth fills the receptive part of me. And I understand that I have lost it all, the moment before I give in to the darkness. It is the only way to survive so much happiness.

I wake up.

I wake up for the first time in seven years. Not just come back from oblivion of my rest, but wake up from a sleep.

There is slight weight across my chest and the left side of my body is warmer and heavier than my right.

I open my eyes to look into shining emerald green ones and feel as if my heart could burst with happiness. He is there. Still. It was all real.

"Hello there…" he whispers before ducking forward and capturing my lips in a soft kiss. And I taste myself there.

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The Principle of Sympathy