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The Principle of Sympathy	By : heerayni Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5831 -:- 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
- 16
- 17
- 18
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@ALEX : You wonderful silvertongue you! All my love to you stalker!

and

@SP777 : Thanks A lot for taking the chance on my story. I am so glad that you like it, means the world to me and i hope you will keep liking it as it progresses. Yes we will be seeing a lot more of Tenebra, by the end of this chapter, i think you will be somewhat satisfied yet more curious maybe...*lips sealed* enjoy this installment. An nope this car is no way running out of gas any time soon, stand assured. This story for me personally is too cool to abandon!

From long to short, from small to large, you reviews touched my heart!:D ThankusAlotus!

Chapter 17 - Following a Malfoy

True lovers never take it slowly

When they've found the one and only

Nothing can replace this feeling

Knowing someone loves you,

It's painted with the pain and glory

Taking from a known sad story

Laying out my life before me

Fearing the unknown

Sharing never showed me much appeal

And now I'm only praying it's for real

So how does it feel?

When I hold you in my arms

And you're lying next to me

Never wanting you to leave

Until I'll tell you how it feels

To be cradled like my dreams

And to know that you love me

No more wasting time in asking other people

How does it feel?

(How does it feel - Westlife{The greatest hits : Unbreakable})

The idea was to simply spend a good vacation.

Explore some choices; get away from Hermione, Molly and Andromeda's incessant urging to get on with his love-life.

To get away from sulking Ginny, who still could not get over the fact that they just did not work out all too well.

The idea was to go see Charlie. Get the taste of magical life on the wild side.

And of course. To find if there was anything more to all the flirting Charlie had imposed upon him when he had been home from Romania over on Christmas six months ago.

An idea had taken hold inside his mind. Since Hermione had not so subtly pointed towards it at the same Christmas gathering.

Charlie was awe inspiring with his rugged good looks, absolutely terrific sense of humor and over all Happy presence. Harry wanted some of that shine. And in a few vague and innuendo embedded conversations, a few too friendly caresses and a one mock and not so mock kiss under the mistletoe Harry had felt a sparkle. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe Harry was gay. It would certainly explain a lot.

It was only that before Charlie had started to really lay it on thick, and Hermione's pointing and pushing, the thought had not even crossed Harry's mind. And if Harry recalled right, Charlie had been going this way with him for quite a while.

Well better late than never. Harry told himself as he packed for a month long vacation in Romania. In his owls Charlie was absolutely ecstatic, and even more ecstatic that he was coming alone.

The first few days were spent mainly exploring the sanctuary and getting to know the dragons. Next few days were spent sigh seeing and flirting some more. On the tenth day Charlie snogged the hell out of Harry behind the supply shed. It was fast and hard and a little daunting, but Harry took it in stride. Embracing the differences between a man's hardness and woman's softness. He found that Charlie different, yet not all the more exciting that Ginny was. Yet for the sake of exploration Harry decided to go full circle.

But he did not want to repeat what happened with Ginny, with Charlie too, so they discussed it, man to man. And apparently Charlie was mature enough to understand where Harry was coming from and they also decided that no one would know what happened between them in Romania in case it does not work out.

On the fifteenth night. Charlie took Harry out on a date in Bucharest the biggest and the capital of Romania which was also home to one of the most ancient continued wizarding communities in the world since Bucharest was itself an ancient city. After a nice dinner of local delicacies in a traditional restaurant, Charlie took Harry to a muggle hotel he had booked for the special occasion as privacy at the reserve was something of a problem.

It started passionately enough, with lots of kissing and slow undressing. All of which Harry enjoyed. It made him feel loved and cherished even if it was all just physical. Harry self-admittedly had confessed in front of Hermione and Ron both that he preferred fore-play to sex.

So after a long and winded foreplay which went on for almost two hours, of almost fingering Charlie the way he taught Harry into begging him for proper penetration, Charlie finally coaxed Harry to do it. It was tight, and strange, but not unpleasant Harry found as he pounded into Charlie upon request and for once Harry though it was going to happen for him. Finally he was going to reach the ultimate apex while joined with his lover. So he went on, changing angles that made a grown and strong man like Charlie whimper and scream with pleasure under him, he could almost feel it, just beyond a few more thrusts, Charlie's golden and perspiring skin spread in front of him. A thing of genuine beauty. And then Charlie was tightening against him in spasms just as he spilled himself into his orgasm and on to the bed, screaming Harry's name and cursing and Harry knew he was about to tip over, so he pounded faster and deeper trying to escape from the strange anger and sadness that always spread in his chest as he reached this close to his climax preventing it. It felt like the most delicious food turning into ash just as soon as you were about to swallow it to soothe your starving. And then it bloomed in his chest. The pain and sadness and desolation, frustration and exhaustion it came in such a harsh wave that Harry could hardly breathe.

Something inside of him made him pull out of Charlie's tight hole almost violently as bile rose in his throat. Penis still painfully engorged and aroused he ran into the bathroom to retch into the toilet, but despite his full stomach nothing came out of his mouth. What did come out were tears of frustration and anger from his eyes. He felt like murdering Charlie all of a sudden. As if he hated Charlie more than he even hated Voldemort. He got away from the toilet and banged the door close just before he saw Charlie make way towards the bathroom all worry and concern written on his face.

It took him thirty minutes to not feel murderous towards Charlie. It took a lot of logical rationalization. Thinking about all the kindness Charlie had shown him during his vacation. How much Harry owed Charlie and the Weasley family. How he could not find logic for this anger and betrayal etched deep in his chest like a blade carved rune in his very flesh. How he had himself come here to explore his sexuality with Charlie.

It took him almost an hour to wank himself raw in the bath before his erection subsided. The sting of soap on his prick had felt like ample punishment, for what? He did not know. By the time he had finally come out of the bathroom, Charlie had dozed off on the floor leaning against the wardrobe waiting for Harry to come out. The guilt was like a living thing inside Harry. So he woke Charlie up with sweet apologies and warm friendly embraces, which Charlie was kind enough to return and not feel offended at all. Charlie was truly a gem. Just not made to fit in Harry's crown.

After fifteen minute of cuddling in bed with his now strictly friend Charlie Weasley, Harry finally dozed off. In his dreams he saw a battered and bruised Draco Malfoy curled into himself with a book with a familiar cover on a straw mat, shivering uncontrollably and whimpering deep in his sleep. Face streaked with dirt and tears and Hair shaved closed to his head. In his dream Harry without thinking curled protectively around the miserable and bruised body which stopped shivering after a few minutes, warming up against him and just before Harry closed his eyes again he heard Draco sigh once as he whispered in his dream within Harry's dream.

"Harry?"

It's not like I am delusional.

It's not that I don't know that I have fallen for perhaps one of the most difficult people in the world.

It's not that I don't realize how many holes there are yet to be filled, how many honest conversations to be had before I can even start dreaming of making this last as long as it will.

It's just that, in face of the most beautifully vulnerable and proud Draco, I don't care if nothing makes sense.

He makes sense to me. Touching him, feeling him, loving him makes sense to me, though, if I think about it, it doesn't really.

Yet it is that sense of rightness that makes me ignore everything else.

As he rests in my arms, eyes closed even before his and mine breathing calms down. A smile on those lips. Serene, unperturbed, blissful. A tear about to spill against the corner of his closed eyes, just sitting there on the edge of the long golden eyelashes. I kiss it away. Absorb it. It is ours, this happiness. It is real. A product of our union. He sighs softly and I can almost see him fall deeper into the sweet oblivion of sleep. It is like a dejavu, like I have seen all of this before, yet in an absolutely opposite way. It is there but isn't. Not corporeal or genuine.

He is genuine and real though. Even if there are many lies, in this he is true. I can feel it in my soul.

And it is that what matters in the end, isn't it?

The silence in the room is filled with his deepening breath and it is perhaps the most beautiful sound in the world.

I languish in it. My body is more relaxed than I have ever remembered it to be. Humming with serene satiation. The soft golden light is soothing. I press my eyes close but I am too wide awake in my body to actually go to sleep. Too happy, too excited. There are so many possibilities in my mind running amok and I can't even hold on to one single thought for a single second. Its madness. So I automatically switch to basic stuff.

Like,

I just made love to Draco Malfoy.

And for the first time I reached an orgasm the way it is supposed to be reached.

Inside him.

Tonight has been full of miracles.

In fact. Too many of them.

Restless again, I turn to look at his sleeping face again.

Unable to prevent myself from touching and disturbing him I slowly push his still sweat damp hair away from the moist skin of his forehead and neck. Strand after strand, finger barely touching the skin.

The silver of his hair gleams in the mix of the silver of the moon light and golden of the lumos lamps.

Could this be any more perfect?

Could this be any more miraculous?

Hungrily my eyes follow the flickers of passing clouds over the moon and slight fluctuation of the lumos lamps glowing on the exposed and pale skin of his chest. Vowing to learn by heart every pore of the flawlessly ivory skin, every sensory nerve ending, every nook and cranny.

He is hairless and smooth all the way until the bottom of his navel. Where there is a slight dusting of pale golden hair that leads down to the mysteriously and cleanly trimmed yet a denser patch of golden pubic hair.

I snort inwardly.

That is something so extremely poncey Malfoy! Or rather aristocratic maybe. I don't know. That is something I would never imagine on my own, but can totally see old Draco doing. Trimming his pubic hair because he can't stand single strand out of place. It's hilarious.

And absolutely adorable.

And I think I like it. A little too much.

As if sensing my stone breaking obsessive and probably salivating stare on his groin, he shifts slightly in his sleep turning more into me as if seeking my body warmth as his toes rub absently against my ankle as his legs tangle further with mine.

The changed angle in light makes his chest more visible and less glowing and I see them

Scars. Quite a few of them. Spread all over and varying is sizes.

A particularly long one that starts from his clavicle bone and follows the whole way down to his navel. I realize it's in the shape of a long thin lightning bolt and with the realization comes the revelation that perhaps it is the scar I gave him all those years ago.

How careless and impulsive with magic I had been on that occasion and Draco had been suffering and had suffered even more. Draco was perhaps the very first person I had punished more than he deserved.

My heart clenches at the thought. At the blood and the pain he must have endured just because I was stupid. No, not stupid. I was angry at him. I intended to hurt him. I could have easily disarmed him when I had startled him in the first place. But I was seething with anger and righteousness and I had wanted to fight. To hurt. He had cast an unforgivable as well. But it had missed somehow. I remember Snape's silent fury directed at me before he softly cradled bleeding and twitching Draco in his arms and started chanting something. Healing him. Calling back the spilt blood. It was one of the most extraordinary piece of magic I remember witnessing. It was almost a year after Snape's death and Draco's disappearance that it was revealed to the world, just how important Draco Malfoy was to Severus Snape when everything worth anything was passed on to Draco in Snape's will. Including an extensive pile of Snape's personal journals, that still won't come off the shelf in his spinner's end bedroom. Bill had tried for days. I wonder if Draco knows about it at all. If he got that appointment with the portrait.

I remember how Snape's silence and fury both remained intact after the incident in the lavatory until the fateful end of the year, and the silence was even more unnerving and almost made me wish that he insulted and degraded me for my stupidity and recklessness. I was very sorry until the day at the astrology tower. After that I was just numb. Too over-whelmed to make any proper judgments. Until the time when Draco refused to recognize me in this same house after being captured by snatchers, when he clearly knew it was me. How I had snatched his wand, how it complied to me so easily, almost second best to my own, its loyalty unquestionable. Another mystery, another question. Only confirmation of a bigger plan than the one seemingly on the surface. This boy, beautiful boy, I hated and almost killed and then saved and then…lost.

And here I am. Tangled so intimately with the same boy.

And I can't even imagine how I could ever hate him so. Or never notice the loss that I felt deep inside me when he was not around for seven years.

Because I am not foolish enough to think that what I feel for Draco right now is recent. It doesn't feel recent. Its more than skin deep and more than weeks old.

His words echo in my mind again.

"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. 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…"

Could he really mean that? Or was it something he just said. Along the way.

No the haunted look in his eyes could not be pretend, or something you conjure just along the way.

I press my lips just above his lips. Feeling his breath tickle them. I am going to make it all up to him somehow. I am going to cherish him. I will not let go. And I will discover all mysteries imprisoned inside the strong and lean chest peppered with scars. I will learn all the stories associated with each and everyone of those scars.

I place a small kiss on his forehead before lying back down. Falling into deep relaxation. Eyes closed, breathing deep.

I don't know how much time passes, with my face tucked on his pillow and my arm draped across him, but I am alert the moment he stirs. And then most brilliant eyes are staring at me. Widened in disbelief and then… joy.

Something unknots in my chest and I kiss him for it. A kiss he returns enthusiastically turning into it to give me unobstructed access to that delicious mouth which feels as if it's made just for me.

We kiss languidly for seconds? Minutes? Hours? I have no idea. It's more of a conversation than kisses. Strong pressing of open lips and fighting tongues saying, 'you are mine… all mine… and I am yours'

Soft and slow licking and tasting ones, telling of adoration and exploration. ' so sweet and soft and absolutely amazing you are and how I adore you.'

Sucking and wet ones, telling of desire and want. 'I want you, need you deep inside and close enough to make it difficult to pull apart.'

I have never been kissed this way in my entire existence. It's not just that I and he are so perfectly and wonderfully physically compatible. Strong bodies made to entwine around each other. To take it hard and fast and slow and languid.

There is also a magical connection. Which keeps surprising me every time it acts up, it feels like I would keel over with sheer pleasure. A real sense of belonging. The kind of pleasure you get at times by pulling your own hair when you are extremely tired. Only multiply that by a hundred times.

I have never felt such connection with anyone or such magical… stimulation. It's like a power boost that is not just magical but soul-deep as well. But all such thoughts leave my mind when he straddles atop me and in a swift swoop takes me into his tight wanton heat again.

Almost an hour later he is sprawled all on top of me like a lazy cat. Kissing and rubbing against me, it hardly hides his true physical strength that he can move so easily to his heart's content within the hard press of hold that I have him in. I can hardly restrain him and he me and we both are aware of it. Yet none feel the need to do it. Just squeeze together and move in the languorous olden dance of passion. A strange synchronized revolving of two universes, coming together without the destruction and mayhem.

The poetry my brain is spewing is a shock, when I gather wits for only a split second. So it is true, this is how poetry is inspired. If a dull creature like the butch auror and helpless awkward gawky and extremely over-rated idiot that I am can be so creative, I can only imagine the kind of thoughts Draco's aristocratic, sharp and superior intellect would be producing.

But that relies on the fact that he is feeling the exact same way that I am right now as he frotts against me in a maddeningly slow pace. Our vigorously worked flesh is too sensitive yet still wanting and I wonder if we are ever going to be satiated. I wonder if it is the poetry of his thoughts that is slowing him down too.

What I would not give to hear what he is thinking.

And then he is breaking the kiss. And looking deep into my eyes again. A meaningful look, a plead almost. And I wonder if he read my thoughts somehow.

I want him to say something to me. Though his expression and the heat and the magic says a lot. I still wish he would say something to me. I would if I was any good with words.

I am ready for him. Ready to do anything and go anyway to explore and exploit this connection between us to its limited or infinite capacity we are yet to find. I am already throbbing with need and friction just as he is. From there it is a jumble of sensations and responses. There is a desperation to him, the way he clings to me feels for my skin with his hands and lips. The way he inhales me. I can hardly catch purchase still too breathless by the desperate kisses and then I lose track altogether, reaching climax for the fourth time in so few hours. It is still nothing short of mind shattering.

As I come back from the high, he is almost collapsed on top of me, yet still holding on to me. His grip not harsh but secure.

"Say something.." I know the moment the request leaves my mouth that it is going to snorted at.

"No…" he says flatly and snuggles deeper into my side kissing the side of my neck.

"And?... Keep going.." I tease, trying to sound stupid and expectant. I know he would find it irresistible to make fun of me and my Gryffindor sentimentality and would fulfill my desire to hear his sleep-addled, husky and ragged voice. Evidence to my ears of how we have worn each other out. For now. It's a trick any and every Slytherin would fall for.

"No Harry, I said No, to saying something for the sake of saying something, its very teenage love-struck cliché." As if him lying half naked almost on top of me cuddling isn't.

"Mhmmm, how would you know? Have you been there?" I ask, dreading the answer somewhat.

"I have been to many places that I never wished I had been to, and many places I haven't been to which I wish I did…" there is sad note in there somewhere, but the sudden possessive tightness of the arm on my waist seems almost involuntary. I press back. I am a Gryffindor, I am curious but I am sentimental too. And if my lover wants to squeeze me into a choke-hold, I would allow him.

Him…

That's a strange but very thrilling word to refer to the one in my arms.

"That's very Mid-life strife cliché." I finally say, turning from my back to my side and holding him closer yet with my free arm around his shoulder. His skin still moist and soft hair, long and tangled stuck to the side of his neck and the side of his face, lips swollen and darkened with all the vigorous activity they received just minutes ago. Something curls deep within me at the vision that he is and I know that if allowed I would devour him again and again and again.

"Is it? Well, you can't blame me, I certainly feel like a mid-life strife after… That…you are extremely demanding… what is it that they say? Randy like a teenager?" he says finally opening just one eye to look at me sardonically. How he manages to look sarcastic with one eye closed is beyond me. All I know is that I absolutely adore it.

"So you are a tired out middle aged man and I am a randy teenager… how will we ever survive?" I ask, unable to keep my hand from travelling to intimate nooks and crannies.

"On kisses…" he sighs, his eyes now open and shining like diamonds in the low lighted room and what I see in them takes my breath away. And without realizing I am closing the distance between us and so is he and we are joined again in a tangle of limbs and fingers and lips and tongues as he climbs atop me again, which seems to be his favorite position. I think he intends to sleep there. Right on top of me. naked and pasted, under pretense of kissing of course.

Suddenly he stills over me and goes extremely rigid, breaking off the languid possessive kiss with a smack.

"Draco?"

A few seconds pass in this manner of absolute stillness and Draco suddenly flinches, his knees tightening around my waist for a split second before he jumps off of me in a gracefully urgent leap. All exhaustion and tiredness gone from his limbs. His previously drooping eyes alert like a hunting tiger's.

I watch him in shock for a few more seconds as he conjures black silk trousers out of thin air. Dread fills my heart. Is this it yet? The walk of shame part? The sneering, making fun part? The heart-breaking part. I thought it would last longer than this.

He doesn't turn towards me and glides towards the south-side window.

He peers outside cautiously through the curtains that are half open, before he turns back and is rushing to the other corner of the room towards the wardrobe.

"Someone just tried to breach my wards with considerable force." He says, looking at me with a blank expression. I can't help the deep breath I take. Too conflicted all of a sudden with relief and worry all at once.

We are under attack, I realize.

Malfoy's wards are impenetrable. And that is before you even consider the blood wards which must have indicated the attempt to him and also the intention.

That pushes me into instant action as I leap off the bed, catching the trousers he throws at me mid-air.

I summon my wand just as I tighten the drawstring around my waist. It is the only piece of voluntary wandless magic that I have learned. I have hardly transformed my dress shoes into combat boots when a silver glint in the peripheral catches my attention and I see Draco wielding an impressive katana as he slices it through the air. He is by the window again. So it's not really that I am bad at catching movement, it is just that he is exceptionally good at moving undetected and silent. He is extraordinarily stealthy.

That makes me feel a little better. And a little more exasperated too.

I catch him muttering something under his breath as he slashes the glittering silver squared blade in an intricate pattern. Just his ease and skill with it is enough to make my neck feel hot.

'Now is not the time!' I tell myself gritting teeth.

He is muttering again with eyes closed and I can feel the magic spreading in the air. It's the kind I have never encountered before. Its dark and cold with an electric taste to it. I see a shadow move away from where he stands by the window across the wall before it bullets down the wall and slips out of the door.

A dread fills me. That cannot be anything but extremely dark magic.

Shadow magic is one of the highly forbidden ones.

And Draco is a practitioner, Oh dear Merlin, the way it seems, he is a regular practitioner.

"Did you just do what I think you did?"

He turns to look at me with that blank mask he is so good at putting up.

I put my hand up in exasperated surrender. I don't want to hear it. If I don't hear it, I can't acknowledge it at a later date.

Because practitioner of dark magic or not, I will still burn for him.

We just apparently have more things to settle and talk through than I initially thought.

"Fourteen in total. Five outside the main gate, Five along the West wing garden entrance and four by the coppice." He says looking at me still in that stony and impassive way that is just too unnerving at this point.

"Are they attacking the wards individually or are they weaving the attack together?" I ask as I quickly button down my own shit silk shirt. He is still naked above waist. Standing by the window, the longest and most eerily silver katana I have ever seen still swinging in hand. The impassiveness evolves into an impressed look as if he was not expecting such a tactical question from me.

I want to take offence for such under-estimation, but he is too beautiful right now in all his silver warrior with a nifty Japanese sword glory to hold a grudge against.

"On the Main and West weaving and on the coppice individually."

"Take the location concealing ward down and I will send word to HQ for reinforcements. Hostiles have already found this place, make it easier for Auror dept. to find it, there is no point in keeping it up anyway."

And there is that look again.

"What? I am an auror Draco. My tracking skills are horrendous only and especially because my specialty is tactical warfare. If you have forgotten, I did win that rather final battle of our age and saved the world from fucking Voldemort!"

And then his face is breaking into a devious grin. As he almost leaps across the room at me and it is only because of my seeker reflexes that I don't fall back and catch him as he crashes into me. Lips finding mine like an expert archer's arrow finding a bull's-eye.

It's a savage, hot hungry and war-cry of a kiss. I am light-headed by the time it breaks.

I can feel the flat of that narrow blade across my spine as he holds on to me. Thrumming with magic. This is no ordinary weapon realize. Its inlaid with magic and is possibly a conduit. It must be as I don't see a wand on his person.

"How much time do we have? How much time till they break through the wards?" I ask him as he leans his forehead against mine inhaling me deeply again.

"Forever actually, I told you that it is impossible to break through it. And our intruders know that."

"And?"

"And they are not here to actually break into the mansion. Only to draw us out to have a conversation I am guessing." His voice is toneless.

"You know who it is… don't you?" I don't mean to say it in as much of an accusatory tone as it comes out. I was actually going for annoyed and resigned. Because there would never be enough time for all the questions to be answered.

"Yes, and it is time that you know too." His eyes are pleading with me. He does not want me to misunderstand. I kiss his forehead in reassurance. Which makes him preen a little. The adorable bastard!

"Ok, since I clearly do not know what is going on here, I am going to go out on a limb and ask you if you want the Aurors here?"

"Yes, but how long will they take?"

I look at the clock on the pedestal. Its 3'o' clock in the morning.

"Ten to fifteen minutes. The night shift force at the HQ has been extended since the Centaur incident, so we can have at least ten aurors here in that long."

"I think a ten minute conversation will be more than enough." He sighs as he finally lets me go.

I quickly summon all the feelings from earlier when we made most amazing love repeatedly and pour it into the charm. I need a particularly strong patronus to go undetected and show up at multiple locations to deliver a message.

The silver shape pours out of the tip of my wand is potent enough and I close my eyes for a few seconds as it solidifies, keeping full concentration. I open my eyes to give it the message. Only to find the alien form of a sentient, silver, smooth and horned dragon size of a small car staring at me solemnly as it hovers mid-air in front of me flapping its wings, in place of my old faithful Stag I call prongs.

I look around wand clutched heavily, to find Draco looking at the Patronus wide-eyed as well.

"Your Patronus is a Norman Silverback? Isn't it supposed to be a stag."

"It is a stag! This is not mine…"

"You just cast it! I saw you!" and he sounds almost similar to the way he used to back in school when he used to complain to whoever would listen how unfair McGonagall and Dumbledore were.

"There must be some kind of mistake…" though I am starting to feel it isn't. I deflect my wrist undoing the charm. And true as it is, the rather heavy Patronus dissipates. I have never seen such a huge in size Patronus let alone cast one.

I stare at the clear but a bit brighter air. As realization comes. The possibility that my patronus has changed is sort of frightening, because if that is the case, and the shape it has taken apparently, I know that I am royally screwed. All of sudden my relationship with Draco has become even more significant. I have seen and heard of a Patronus changing, but my prongs has always been so strong that I never thought it could change. I shoot a look at Draco a few steps away from me and see him watching me intently.

I focus on the memory of being with my parents and the one of Ron and Hermione exchanging rings, of watching Teddy taking his first steps ever toward me and I say the incantation again. I feel the light pouring out of my wand and in a few seconds Prongs is staring at me. Wholly familiar and proudly eager. I feel Draco shifting on his feet.

"Malfoy Manor is under attack. The attackers are more than a dozen in number. Alert the aurors and try the locating charm in five minutes for apparition coordinates, the location concealing ward will be down by then. Come with as much backup as you can. We can hold them off for fifteen minutes max. Follow Charlie's plan. Make haste!"

I push a little more magic into it as Prongs bounds off and then multiply into two, leaping lightning fast in two opposite directions. One to find Ron immediately and the other to Auror Headquarters.

The silence in the room is pin drop.

I look at him to find him still staring at me intently, expectantly.

"So it seems you have more than one corporeal patronus." He says finally when I don't say anything.

"Must be some kind of a mix up." I say shrugging carelessly.

I need to process the discovery before I discuss this with anyone. It is a shattering realization. Just a much more solid proof of what had been sounding in my ears, evident in my eyes, resounding in my head, beating in my heart, growing in my soul these past few days. It has only been mere hours since it all finally came together and yet I feel as if there was nothing and no meaning to me as an individual before I found myself in Draco's arms. It is a frightening aspect. One that requires to brood and brew upon. Be frightened some moreover, be exhilarated some more by. It is too fast, and too much, but it is right. I belong.

I realize I am spewing poetry again. Thank the great magician that it is only inside my head. Which on second thought, may not be the safest place for these embarrassing poetic thoughts especially in presence of Draco Malfoy. I have never been a natural at occlumency, whereas he is, I can tell by myself, even if Hermione had not verified it (which she did just a few days back conversationally), an expert, maybe even beyond that.

"I have not even seen that Normanback or whatever dragon you identified it as in reality ever." I realize my mistake. When his look turns a little sharp. I should have just let it go. He walks toward the nightstand and from somewhere in the sliver of space between the stand and the bed side, brings out the cane. The Malfoy cane he sometimes carries, unlike his father who always had it on him as it housed his wand. It now most probably carries Malfoy's wand. His wand, another point of connection and endless unanswered questions.

He walks towards me in that seductive way he does. Smooth and gliding, swift and agile, his eyes fixed on me and I swallow down a nervous lump in my throat, before I realize he is presenting the cane to me. I take it hesitantly. Not knowing the purpose of it. He pointedly looks at me and then the cane. And I look down at it. It is rude to wield someone else's wand in front of them, but the absent thrum of magic in the cane that would indicate a wand tells me that right now this is just a cane and Malfoy's wand must be somewhere in easy approach.

The ebony of the cane is polished flawlessly and the silver piercing end tip of it shines just as the head gleams, only now that I notice it, in place of the serpent head that I had seen on Lucius Malfoy's cane, there is a snarling horned dragon head.

"That is the head of a Norman Silver back, the one you … 'mistakenly' conjured as a patronus just now. It is the old Malfoy emblem mascot. Only the male has the horns. This cane originally belonged to my Grandfather Abraxus Malfoy and his grandfather before him and his grandfather before him. It is one of the numerous Goblin made heirlooms of my family, it has a magical quality of the head changing into the shape of the animal with which the wizard yielding it has the most affinity for and shares most traits with…"

He moves closer to me, his fingers hovering over mine as I trace the groves of the horned and snarling dragon head. I can feel our breaths mixing in the space between us where I hold the cold and smooth cane. His long graceful fingers stroke mine as they guide them tracing over the cool silver. When he speaks next his voice is lower and much more husky.

"…For my Grandfather, the head was a Runespoor, quite appropriate too as he was often indecisive and unpredictable with where he spewed his venom, we don't tell this to anyone, but my grandmother killed him, in vengeance of a life time of unpredictable torture." He snickers sinisterly, and a feel my breath hitching slightly at the pure sex that drips from his little display of laughing at evil. It settles like a weight in the pit of my stomach.

"My father's was a viper, treacherous and poisonous, though his was not the same cane but the one that belonged to his own grandfather. The wood and finish is a little different than this." He guides my fingers underneath his to smooth along the length of the whole glass polished cane and I can't help but think of something else he might be guiding me to stroke and glide along the length of. He looks up at me and the look in his eyes is smoldering hot and I can feel it burning paths through my veins that go from my eyes straight to my groin. Somewhere in the back of my mind I register that I am supposed to be panicking right now and not standing here being seduced under the pretense of an heirloom lecture.

" …This one changed when I claimed possession of it, my affinity to the Dragon is no surprise, I was named a Dragon after all. A Norman Silverback is majestic, secretive, resilient and possessive, devoted to its obsession which is usually its mate to a fault. And it is the only Dragon that has venomous horns… Quite deadly." He lips are inches from me now the silver fire in his eyes is swirling in its heathen dance of desire. I have never seen or felt such molten seduction.

"Why does it sound like a warning?" I whisper, feeling that a solid voice will break this moment.

"No, not a warning, a game plan." He whispers back. I want to pounce. Oh how I want to pounce at him, on him, close the few inches of distance between us and before I can do just that, he shivers stepping back a bit, his eyes closed and brows frowning.

"What is it Draco?" I ask, cloud of desire dissipating in a puff.

"I think it is time to greet our visitors." He says with an annoyed expression.

Ron's patronus, a Jack Russell Terrier we fondly call fluffy in memoriam of Hagrid's three headed Cerberus, finds me at the last step of the sprawling marble stair case.

"We are on our way, following Charlie's plan."

"What is Charlie's plan?" Draco asks me as we walk towards the foyer.

"It's one of the usual tactical plans we have template outlays for. Alphard's Plan, Beatrice's Plan, Charlie's plan, D… Daniel's plan…Etcetera." I barely stop myself from blurting out Draco's plan, which I named in his honor, whereas in actuality it is an insult, because it involves retreating under duress and saving your skin when situation is impossible. I feel ashamed of it and myself for the first time.

If he notices my slip, he ignores it.

"Really? I never knew Aurors had tactical plans and template outlays."

"They didn't until five years ago. When I made the first and most fundamental of them, now they are part of advanced auror training. As you see, since we are a part of MLE, and since the war has ended, they have totally dissolved the General Law enforcement department and MRD that dealt with crimes and rescue, only MMA and HW remains, all other things they assigned to the aurors, and rumor has it that we would soon also be responsible for Hit-wizards contingent. It's a constraint. It's like Army doing the work of police, swat, rangers and spies all. We had to rally so I had to make Battle and capture tactical teams and rescue teams and general law enforcement teams."

"Duly impressed Auror Potter! So 'follow Charlie's plan' means?" he leers at me as we walk through the long gravel carriage way. Towards the cast-iron gate.

"Nothing, if you are not an Auror." I answer under my breath. I am sure I am blushing, though I don't know why.

"And if I was?" he is way too comfortable and easy in his skin for the situation we are in right now. I don't know if it is a façade, or if we really are that safe.

"Then it means shut up and follow Harry Potter's lead." I say exasperatedly.

"Ah! Then I am glad I am not an auror, as I am going to follow Draco's plan."

"Which is?"

"For Harry Potter to keep still and keep his ears open and not cross beyond this point and let Draco do all the talking."

"What?" I turn to him about to argue and realize my mistake a little too late.

"Petrificus Totallus!" he hisses and I am too close and he is too fast, surreal fast and I can feel my body going rigid like an ice slab.

"Tenebra!" he hisses, catching hold of helpless ice-slab me before I fall face down on the gravel path and lays a kiss on my temple as he drags me towards the grassy carpet of the garden before he lays me down on it carefully and bends my frigid wand hand to lay on my chest wand still clutched in it. I could punch him at this moment. A shadow a few feet above the ground looms on his side. I can see it as it is in direct line of my sight. It's cold and volatile this shadow. I would flinch away from it if I could.

"Guard him! And when he stands up himself, do not let him leave this spot!" The shadow bows in acquiesce.

He turns to me then and lays a chaste kiss on my lips. I try to show my anger and annoyance in my eyes.

"The spell will fade in time for you to signal your aurors. I recommend you don't test Tenebra's tenacity and obedience."

He then leaves the line of my sight and I can hear his feet scrunching on the moist gravel as he swiftly walks away. The shadow looms over me for a moment before it curls around me in a flimsy shallow wall of darkness.

Fucking Draco Malfoy.

"Oh! So he sends his minions! Is he too afraid to come himself?" I hear Draco's sneering drawl from a distance. It's quite far, but I can hear it like it's happening a few feet away.

"You will not disrespect Herr Minatio!" a woman hisses. From the voice and accent I can tell that she is Thirty plus and German.

So it is Minatio.

"Admittance of fear has nothing to do with disrespect. If anyone has been disrespected here, it is me. You come into my domain, and you attack my home, I do not take kindly to that kind of trespass. He could have simply owled me, he did not have to do all this. My answer will remain the same. Even if he brings a whole army of minions to my doorstep. It will just make me tick off more, the answer will remain the same."

"Then you forfeit the thing you treasure most Silbern alongside life of innocents! For Herr Minatio gets what he wants and then some."

I can suddenly feel my lips and tongue loosen from the rigid grip of the spell.

"Finite Incantantum!" I barely hiss but it does the work and my whole body loosens up immediately.

I leap up only to find the shadow wall form a rigid circle of black smoke and shadow around me. It is cold and fluid and chilling me to my marrow. As if it is holding my soul in place instead of my body. I stand fixed on the spot only able to see the back of Draco's silver head gleaming in moon light standing a few feet behind the cast-iron gate. All of a sudden, the air is fluid again around me and I realize that the utter silence and no wind despite the wetness of gravel was strange, only I had not noticed it. It was exactly like the last time I came to the manor. When it was around sunset yet there was no sound of birds or insects.

The air is natural around me now. As if some kind of bubble around me has partially dissipated. I take that as my cue. Adding another question to my list.

I point my wand up towards the sky and send the flare that will alert the aurors to move.

AN:

**The lyrics in the beginning of the chapter belong to Westlife and RCA BMG**

I am sorry for the Cliffie (not)! I promise I won't be late next week!

MLE - Magical Law enforcement

MRD - Magical rescue Dept.

MMA - Misuse of Muggle Artifacts

HW - Hit Wizards
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- 18
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The Principle of Sympathy