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The Power of Three	By : Queenie_Mab Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14386 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from Harry Potter, created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers: Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright infringement intended

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Harry found a Muggle club called The Den, that catered to gay men and soon was being chatted up by an attractive man with long dark hair that hung loose to his shoulders and who was wearing a tight outfit of black velvet and leather. Harry had to admit he fancied the leather trousers, which left little to the imagination.

At this point he was already working on his third whisky, and Paul, for that is what the man said his name was, was beginning to edge ever closer, and Harry could feel the heat pooling in the centre of his belly.

"Why don't you come back to my place," Paul said. "It's a hellofa lot more comfortable than these bar stools and I do have whisky if you want to keep drinking."

Harry's mind was hazy; he barely understood the words Paul was using, but he got the gist of them. He wanted to pick Harry up. Harry carefully considered accepting. It wasn't like this Muggle would out him to The Prophet, but the decision was made for him as a hand came down on his shoulder, and he heard a long-forgotten, but familiar voice telling Paul, "Hands off this one; he's mine."

Harry's eyes swam as he watched Paul give the stranger a dirty look before abandoning his drink and walking away. The stranger took his seat, and Harry got a better view of him through red-tinged eyes.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here? Can't you see that I was busy?" he asked, trying not to slur his words.

"I can see that you're busy just fine, but I can also see that you're putting yourself in danger. That man is notorious for slipping Muggle medicine into drinks in order to get blokes to follow him home. He's not very gentle about it either, or so I hear. You've had too much to drink to stay here. C'mon. Let's get you home to your wife."

"Not my wife," Harry slurred.

"I beg your pardon?" Draco asked, confused.

"I'm at the Leaky. Got chucked out. Don't wanna go back, wanna drink."

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair; it fell back into place nicely. "Let's get you to my place then and sober you up a bit. Then, you can decide if you really do want to continue drinking. I can't, in good conscience, let the Saviour of the Wizarding World get date-raped by Muggles."

"No—no sober. I'll go with you, just let me pay my..." Harry fumbled in his jeans for his wallet of Muggle money; once he had it out, he squinted down with first one eye and then the next, trying to figure out how to open it.

"Allow me," Draco offered, taking the wallet out of his fumbling fingers and paying off the barman.

"My flat is just down the street on top of a bookstore, so come on, let's walk."

Harry stumbled off his bar stool and stood on shaky legs. "Fuck, I've gotta piss."

"You can wait until we get to my place; the loos here aren't very safe to use in your condition. Come on, you can make it." Draco pulled one of Harry's arms over his shoulder, and Harry allowed himself to be half-carried out of the club and down the walk.

Harry looked up a while later, when they came to a stop. He saw a bookshop window display filled with beautifully crafted books. The name of the shop was posted above the door, The Dragon's Egg, and beneath that was painted on the glass: Rare and Hard-to-Find Books.

"It's just up here," Draco said, leading Harry through a door next to the bookshop's window, which opened up to a stairwell leading to the flat above. Draco helped Harry up the stairs, and let him lean against him while he unlocked the door.

Harry stumbled as Draco moved inside, but caught his balance and looked around as the lights were turned on. It was decadent and Phallic. Everywhere Harry looked was something new and suggestive. From the paintings hanging in gilded frames, to the statuettes of nude men, to the cactus in the corner, everything screamed Cock. It was obvious from the interior design and the new fixtures that Draco had had the place refurbished.

Draco guided Harry to a cherry wood door in a hallway off to the side of the main room.

"What's this?" Harry asked, his eyes still swimming with all he was seeing.

"It's the loo. You said you needed to piss, so piss, or do you need help with that as well?"

"I can do it," Harry said indignantly, but wondered if he actually could remain standing long enough to relieve himself. He entered the bathroom, undid his jeans and sat on the toilet instead of standing, positioning his flaccid cock down into the bowl. His head continued to swim as he let go, looking all around the spacious white bathroom. The bathtub captivated him. It was large enough for two people to sit in up to their necks and even had seats built into the sides for that very purpose. It appeared to be crafted of black marble or at least was marble-panelled, but Harry thought it brilliant.

He finished pissing and stood up, nearly losing his balance again. He did up his trousers and stumbled toward the door.

Draco stood just outside.

"Forgetting something?"

Harry looked at him confusedly.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Potter. Come back in and wash up. I'll flush the toilet myself."

Harry obeyed and followed Draco's instructions until he found himself seated in a white puffy leather sofa, before a blazing fire. Draco sat off to the side in a matching overstuffed chair.

"Got anything to drink?" Harry asked, beginning to feel his buzz ebb.

Draco sighed and got up. He went to the kitchen, which was open to the rest of the flat, done in black marble panelling to contrast the white of the walls, and fetched a bottle of red wine and two glasses. He brought them back and set them on the coffee table, pouring them each half a glass.

"It's Merlot, so please, try not to spill on the furniture," Draco said, reclaiming his seat.

Harry watched him. He moved gracefully, almost cat like, and when he sat, he folded his black wool-clad legs one over the other as if posing for a photo-shoot. Draco's top half was dressed in a loose fitting poet's blouse-type shirt, the ties open in the front so you could see his hairless, but definitely toned, chest.

Harry took a sip of his "new romantic" and swallowed hard. It still wasn't quite registering that he was sitting in a phallic flat with his childhood enemy, drinking Merlot and just talking.

"What is it that made you mad enough to go into The Den and get as pissed as you are?" Draco asked, a slight smirk plastered on his pointed face.

"I was looking for a good time," Harry said, indelicately. "Luna told me to tell Gin the truth, and I did, and I got thrown out for it, so I figure if I'm going to be treated as a gay freak, I may as well act out the gay part."

"You mean to tell me—" Draco said incredulously, "—that you are gay, but have never been with a bloke before?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Harry asked, swirling his wine around in its glass before taking another sip.

Harry felt his face grow red as he realised what he'd just said to Malfoy. "Oh, Fuck!" he exclaimed, downing the rest of his wine in one go. He set the glass down on the table and caught sight of a decorative bowl that looked very similar to the blue rose china tea set he had been admiring that morning.

He picked up the bowl carefully and began studying the design. Soon it became apparent that the blue figures around the rim twining down to the centre were of guys fucking each other until they were in the middle of a great orgy at the middle. Harry's face grew redder. "Nice, er, bowl," he said, carefully replacing it and looking up to meet Draco's cool grey eyes.

Those eyes, so similar to the ones from his dream that morning. Could this be fate, he wondered. Was he meant to end up in Draco fucking Malfoy's flat the day he came out to his wife?

"Yeah," Draco was saying. "I have the entire set of dinnerware actually. You like it?" he asked still smirking; sitting there in his chair, looking as demure as ever with his perfect hair and tailored clothes, and Harry wanted nothing more than to get up and rip them apart, to make him fall apart. Instead he looked back down to his empty glass. He took the bottle and poured himself another glass and scooted back to his position on the sofa.

"I like it," Harry mumbled, and he took another sip of wine, seeking that elusive buzz that he'd had earlier but was seemingly leaving him faster than it ever had before. "What did you say this wine is?" Harry asked.

"It's Merlot," Draco answered. "It also contains a sobriety potion. I wouldn't want you doing anything stupid and blaming it on the alcohol."

Harry started. "Hey, that isn't fair. I wanted to be drunk. Besides, what kind of stupid thing would I do here?"

Draco raised a pale eyebrow suggestively, swirling his wine in his glass and taking a sip.

"Oh," Harry said, feeling his flush move down his body.

"So your wife chucked you out, did she? What were you doing that warranted such an action?"

Harry threw away all caution and decided to go with full disclosure, like he had with Ginny that morning, only this time with somebody who might be more sympathetic to his case. "I did what Luna told me to; I told Ginny that the reason I was having trouble in the bedroom is because I'm gay, and she threw me out on my arse. I didn't even realise how much I've repressed myself until my sessions with Luna."

Draco shook his head. "You know, Lovegood is great about getting you to accept who you are and to appreciate yourself, but you are a total idiot Gryffindor. What did you expect your wife to do when you drop a dungbomb on her like that? Any woman with sense would chuck you out after having been lied to for, how many years?"

Harry took another sip and then answered. "Nineteen."

"Merlin's pants, no wonder you're in such a state. I still can't believe you're gay and haven't acted on it before now. Are you absolutely certain that you are? I mean, have you even kissed a bloke before?"

"No," Harry mumbled. "I'd like to though; God, you don't know what it's like, living a lie. It feels so good to talk about it like it's natural, but I feel like a total freak of nature. I'm even a freak as a gay man, practically a virgin again."

Draco chuckled. "Now that you're sober, would you care for some Firewhisky? Just a warm-up though, I don't want to have to carry your sorry arse back to the Leaky."

"Yeah," Harry exclaimed. "Firewhisky'd be great. I would've been drunk on it a lot sooner if they served it in Muggle establishments."

Draco rose from his seat and took Harry's glass from him and the bottle and headed back into the kitchen. He returned with a couple of shorter glasses and a half-empty bottle of Ogden's Old and poured them each a couple of shots, then re-stoppered the bottle.

"Cheers," he said, lifting his glass in salute. Harry did the same and they each took a large draught.

"Damn I love the burn," Harry said.

Draco grinned at him. Actually grinned. Harry thought he'd never seen such a beautiful expression on Draco's face before and decided to tell him so.

"You look really hot when you smile," he said, disbelieving the words as they came out of his mouth.

"You look really hot when you're embarrassed," Draco said running his hand through his hair once more, letting it fall back into its just-been-shagged look.

"Fuck," Harry said looking over at Draco as if seeing him for the first time. "This is more like it, the whisky I mean." He downed the rest of his shot and set the glass on the table.

Draco shrugged and did the same.

"You know, Potter, I always fancied you back at Hogwarts," he said, nonchalant.

"No you didn't," Harry insisted. "You hated me, you always insulted us, tried to get us in trouble. Hell, you even joined the wrong side of the war because you hated me so much."

"That's really what you think, isn't it?" Draco asked, tapping the arm of his chair with his fingertips.

"Yeah, that's really how it is," Harry said, suddenly confused. "How can you even joke about fancying me back then? I thought you'd grown up."

"Oh, I have, Potter. I'm a lot bigger now than I was then. My eyes are open to the realities of the world, but I've fancied you since the day you refused to take my hand in friendship. You were the first person to ever refuse me anything, and I wanted you."

Harry gulped, "Well, why weren't you nicer then? You have to admit you were a fucking racist bastard back then. That wasn't any way to go about impressing me."

Draco shrugged. "I did what I was raised to do, Potter. I started coming to my senses sixth year, but—" he shuddered, "—I was already in too deep. I don't want to talk about the past though; we can talk about that some other time."

Harry shrugged, unstoppering the bottle and pouring himself another splash. He held the bottle up to Draco, as if to ask if he'd like some as well, and Draco nodded, holding out his glass for Harry to pour. "In for a knut, in for a Galleon."

"What's that you're saying?" Harry asked drinking down the whole of his glass.

Draco downed his as well. "I'm drinking the same amount as you are to even the score, Potter. It's spiked with Veritaserum. If you're going to be honest with me, then you may as well realise that I'm being just as honest as you are."

Harry stared at him aghast. "Don't you serve anything that's not spiked?"

Draco barked his laughter. "Potter, I entertain gay Muggle men. I want to know when I'm being lied to. It's become a bit of a habit, but this is the first time I've drunk alongside."

"What do you want?" Harry asked, growing suspicious.

"I want your body, naked, sprawled across my bed," Draco said, without a hint of sarcasm. "What do you want, Harry?"

Harry nearly choked. He felt compelled to answer. "I want to taste you. You smell edible. I want to see if you taste half as good as you smell."

Harry was mortified by the words coming out of his mouth, but not a little turned on. His erection was painfully trapped inside his jeans against his thigh.

Draco stood up and came to sit beside him on the sofa. "Are you drunk?" he asked.

"No," Harry answered, focusing entirely on the pert pink lips in front of him.

"Then taste me," Draco offered, leaning in close to allow Harry to make the first move.

Harry felt like his heart had stopped momentarily, before beating so hard he thought it might jump out of his chest. He looked up into Draco's pale grey eyes, the pupils huge, and moved in closer to touch their lips together in his first kiss with another man.

It was divine, the feel of Draco's thin lips pressed up against his, how Draco moved his mouth open, then partially shut and then open again against Harry's mouth as if he were begging. Harry slightly dipped his tongue into Draco's hot mouth, and then they were passionately snogging, Draco, finally taking the lead and pushing Harry down onto his back on the sofa.

Draco straddled Harry, pressing his wool-covered cock against Harry's denim covered one and Harry, trying hard not to break the kiss, had to snake his hand down into his jeans to free his cock from its bindings, letting it lay up, straining over the waistband of his pants. Draco ground down into it and Harry let loose a small gasp of surprise. He broke the kiss and stared up at Draco's face, finally dishevelled and sexy as all hell.

"We're really doing this, aren't we?" he asked, in a small voice.

Draco groaned as he gave Harry's cock another healthy grind. "Only if you want to, Harry."

Harry cracked a smile, running a hand through Draco's pale blond locks, marvelling at the silkiness of his hair. "Oh, I want to," he said, pulling Draco's face down into another bruising kiss.

Their kissing was unlike any Harry had experienced before. There wasn't any timidity or shyness, just brute lust bursting forth to be expressed with mouths and tongues, cheeks and chins rough against each other with the shadow of beard; it felt so masculine and so damned right.

"I want—" Draco said, peppering his words with kisses, "you—to fuck—me."

Harry about died when he heard those words. Ginny had never been so frank with him; he might have actually got on better with her had she let go like Draco was doing.

"Ung," was all that Harry could manage to say at that point, as Draco was unfastening his jeans and his own trousers so their cocks would have only pants between them as they frotted together.

"Bedroom?" Draco asked, breathing softly against the side of Harry's face, voice low and husky to his ear.

"Yeah," Harry managed to croak. He wanted this and how. Fucking Draco Malfoy had to be the most brilliant idea he'd ever had, and he was definitely going to do it.

Draco held him close and murmured, "Hold on tight," and Disapparated them so that when they reappeared, they were lying in the middle of Draco's giant sleigh bed, done up all in white.

"Woah," Harry exclaimed. He'd never liked the feeling of Apparition, but when one has a hard cock pressed against one's own during the trip, it isn't that bad a sensation.

Harry revelled in the feeling of Draco's pampered palms sliding up under his tight black t-shirt and caressing his chest and nipples, all the while getting the daylights snogged out of him. When Draco came up to breathe for a moment Harry asked him, "Has the Veritaserum worn off yet?"

Draco shrugged and rolled off of Harry to spoon up alongside him, teasing his neck with his tongue. "Are you married?" Harry asked, deciding to test the strength of the dose they had taken.

Draco whined against Harry's neck and whispered, "Yes, but in name only."

Harry pushed Draco away so he could get a better look at him. "So that was you I saw at King's Cross, this past September."

Draco nodded. "Yes, my son Scorpius is going into his third year this year. His mother and I see him off together. Astoria lives at the Manor with my parents and I stay there when Scorpius is home. I only married to sire an heir, but he's the best thing I've ever done in my entire life."

Pleased with this answer and a little tipsy from the Firewhisky, Harry pulled his shirt over his head to reveal his toned chest and pert, brown nipples. Draco stared down at him, as if he were caressing every inch of Harry's torso with his gaze. Shaking his head as if to clear his mind of Wrackspurts, Draco reached down and stripped off his own shirt, revealing milky white skin and little pink nipples on his well-formed pecs.

The moisture left Harry's mouth. Draco looked like he'd been carved from marble; he was so pale, so perfect. Harry let his hand trail from the top of Draco's shoulder, following a faint zigzag line down to where his hip bone jutted out on the other side.

"I thought dittany took care of the scarring," Harry said quietly, erection flagging.

"It did," Draco said, "This could have been so much worse, but don't worry about it now. You marked me that day, and now I want to mark you. I'm going to take your virginity."

Harry's cock twitched back to life. "I thought you said you wanted to be fucked," he gasped as Draco took his earlobe into his hot, sucking mouth.

"I did," Draco whispered, then nipping at his lobe with his teeth. "I've changed my mind. Is that a problem?"

Harry shook his head vigorously, knocking Draco's pointed nose with his glasses.

"Ow, gimme those," Draco said, taking Harry's glasses away and setting them down on the bedside table. He pulled open its drawer and took a bottle of lube and a couple of condoms out and brought them over to where Harry was lying.

"First, we need to take off these jeans," Draco said, in a no-nonsense voice.

Harry giggled as Draco wriggled him out of them, dislodging his wand from his pocket, but leaving it to lie beside Harry's thigh. He then squirmed out of his own trousers, making undressing in a hurry look easy and effortless.

Harry watched as Draco tossed his trousers over the bed and onto the floor.

"Now, we're almost to step two," Draco said, straddling Harry's thighs. He pulled Harry's pants down, freeing his weeping cock so that it strained hot and red up toward his navel. "Nice," Draco observed, pulling Harry's pants off and scooting back along his legs. He lifted each leg out of the holes with tender care and then pulled his own pants off and tossed them to join the pile of clothes on the floor.

Draco's cock jutted out straight and proud from a nest of pale blond curls. It was pinker than the rest of his body and thick. Harry watched it, utterly fascinated by another man's cock as it wept pre-come. Draco straddled Harry's thighs once more. He lifted Harry's cock up from his stomach and began stroking them both in tandem, using only the moisture of sweat and pre-come to ease the glide.

Harry truly felt like he was in heaven now, floating on a great puffy white cloud while he grew closer and closer to release, and then Draco stopped.

Harry shuddered at the abrupt end. "That wasn't step two Harry," Draco said, smiling wryly. "That was step one and three-quarters. Are you ready for step two?"

"Fuck, yes," Harry exclaimed, frustrated at his interrupted orgasm, yet excited for whatever it was that was going to happen to him next. Draco climbed off of him and instructed, "Spread your legs."

Harry immediately complied, spreading his thighs apart and letting his knees fall to the sides.

"God, Harry, do you realise how fucking hot you are?"

Harry felt pretty damn hot at that—his face glowed red with it. He struggled not to answer, but the Veritaserum wouldn't let him not. "No," he said, his voice quiet.

"No? Well then let me tell you," said Draco, positioning himself between Harry's legs and letting his fingertips travel from the tip of Harry's cock lightly down to his heavy sac, tickling the hairs there. "You're so hot, I could come from just looking at you. I could probably do it without even touching myself, but I want to be inside you. I want to feel that velvet heat encase my cock and pulsate around it."

"Nggh," was all Harry could manage to say to that. His cock continued to weep into his navel, growing impossibly harder at the thoughts Draco was putting into his mind.

"Step two would normally be a blow job, but since you look like you're about ready to explode as it is, we'll move on to step three; preparation."

Harry groaned as he felt his balls being taken into Draco's mouth, being rolled about with his tongue and the roof of his mouth, being made wet and soggy with saliva until the sac grew round and hard and Harry swore he wouldn't be able to hold off much longer. He reached down to grip his erection at the base, staving off coming as he wanted to wait for whatever Draco had planned next.

Draco trailed his tongue down Harry's perineum and placed both hands on Harry's knees, pushing him further into the bed, causing his hips to raise a bit, enough for Draco to lick a stripe all along the crack of Harry's arse. He licked up and down with the flat of his tongue, spreading saliva all over before pointing his tongue and tracing the ring of Harry's anus with it.

Harry had never felt so stimulated in his entire life; it felt as if every nerve in his body was awake and exploding like fireworks. He'd had no idea how sensitive his arse was, and the very thought of the filthy thing that Draco was doing nearly brought him to the edge of orgasm. Now he knew why they must have invented cock rings, and he wished he was wearing one right about now. He gripped the base of his erection again and squeezed, buying himself a little more time.

Draco began tonguing his hole with sharp jabs and pokes, breaking through his sphincter and pressing in deeper with each thrust. Harry inhaled deeply letting free another strangled, "Ngh."

Draco began a pattern of swirling, stabbing and thrusting, each time going deeper until he had his nose buried between Harry's cheeks.

"Fuck, Draco, stop... I'm going to come and I want you inside me," Harry found himself calling out to the room.

Draco gave one last deep thrust with his tongue before withdrawing with a chuckle. He rose above Harry and smashed their lips together. Harry didn't stop to think about where Draco had just had his mouth; all he cared about was getting more of it. He tasted himself on Draco's tongue, a musky salty taste that wasn't altogether unpleasant. It tasted of what he imagined a man should taste like, and tasting it on Draco's tongue was like ambrosia to Harry.

Draco pulled away slightly, and Harry looked up into those grey eyes which seemed so open with the pupils dilated the way they were. "Do you really want the last step, Harry? Now's your chance to say no."

"I want your fucking cock up my fucking arse, fucking me now!" Harry said with impatience. Draco smirked down at him.

"As you wish."

He tore open a condom packet and unrolled it onto his cock.

"Condoms?" Harry asked, confused. "Aren't they Muggle?"

"Harry, don't spoil the mood, we'll talk condoms later." Draco said, slathering his sheathed cock with lube. He lifted Harry's knees so they rested against his biceps and lined his cock up to Harry's quivering hole. He pushed in all the way.

"Ahhh," Harry yelped with the initial pain, but Draco stayed put until Harry let his body relax around the cock inside him. "Okay, move. Fuck me," Harry said, biting at his lower lip.

Harry watched as Draco began thrusting, slowly at first, changing angles until Harry exclaimed, "Omyfuckinggod!" Draco snickered and began his thrusts with greater earnest, directed at that spot.

Each time Draco hit or grazed his prostate, Harry would shout expletives of passion. "Fuck me—Oh yeah—harder—right there," until he couldn't hold back any longer and felt himself let go, shouting Draco's name and covering his chest with thick ropes of white come.

Looking up at Draco's straining face made it all worth it to Harry. Watching Draco's hair flop with each thrust, watching him attempt to control his breathing, listening to the quiet mewlings he made, was almost as good as orgasm itself. But watching Draco come was a matter unto itself, beyond orgasm in the pleasure department. Harry had never seen anything so gorgeous as Draco, totally open, mouth panting, eyes squinting and then blinking, sweat dripping off of his pointed nose and the quiet "Ung," he made as he let loose inside Harry was enough to stir Harry's arousal again.

Harry wrapped his legs around Draco's bum, pulling him in deeper, as if to keep him there, connected, but Draco put a stop to it. "Gotta pull out—condom," was all that he managed to say, but Harry let him go and spread his legs once more so Draco had room to pull out.

Harry felt his retreat with anguish; how he longed to have stayed like that, closer to another person than he had ever felt before. Finally Draco was out. He climbed off the bed and went into the en-suite apparently to clean up.

Harry lay, looking up at the white ceiling. Everything was either white or black in this flat, he was realising it now. The only shades of grey were the ones Draco wore on his clothing and in his eyes. Harry didn't know how to feel now that Draco had left the room. He felt abandoned, a bit like the boy in the cupboard that had just had his toy taken away. He syphoned off the come on his chest with his wand and remained still, waiting for Draco to come back.

After ten minutes, Harry began to get nervous. What if Draco had had second thoughts about what happened? What if Harry was really just rubbish at sex and all those things Draco had said were lies? But he was under the Firewhisky laced with Veritaserum. He wouldn't have been able to lie, unless—Harry thought—unless it had worn off.

Harry clambered down naked from the huge bed and padded into the next room to fetch the bottle of Ogden's. He brought it back into the bedroom and climbed back up on the bed, just sitting there waiting for Draco to come out.

About five minutes later Draco emerged, freshly showered and wearing a silk dressing gown. He seemed surprised to see Harry waiting for him.

"Look, Potter, I—"

"No, you look. I'm calling in one of my life debts from you. You will listen to me. Now get up here, Draco Malfoy."

Draco looked at him confusedly. "What do you mean 'one of my life debts'? You only saved my life once."

"You're wrong. I saved your arse three times. Once from the fire, once from your own Death Eater classmates and finally from Voldemort himself. He was going to kill you next if he hadn't died, in order to attempt to gain control over the elder wand."

Draco whispered, "Three times?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Three times in one day I might add."

"Oh fuck!" Draco exclaimed. "Go ahead, Potter ask me what you want, according to the laws of the Power of Three, I'm bound to you."

Harry looked at him in confusion, but wasn't to be deterred from getting his answers. "Here, drink this," he said, shoving the bottle into Draco's hands.

"How much?" Draco asked, fear in his voice.

"Three draughts, then pass it to me."

Draco drank and passed the bottle back to Harry, subdued.

Harry took three draughts as well and then stoppered the bottle. "Now, you're going to answer my questions. Do you regret what we did?"

"Yes," Draco answered, eyes downcast. He readjusted his position on the bed.

"Why?" Harry demanded, feeling like his heart had just shattered and he wanted to kill something. He shoved his emotions aside as he waited for Draco's answer.

"I regret it, because now I know what it means to be complete, and I'll never be satisfied again." Draco looked up, his grey eyes slightly red about the sclerae.

"Don't regret it, please. That was the most brilliant shag I've ever had, and you left me all alone afterwards. I don't like that. Get under the covers with me and talk to me."

Draco climbed in beside Harry, the nearly empty bottle of Ogden's rolled to the foot of the bed, beside the lube, when they pulled up the duvet. They lay facing each other. "It's your turn," Harry said.

"My turn for what?" Draco asked, confused.

"Your turn to ask me a question. I'm going to do this fairly."

"Oh," Draco said, his face growing tense with thought. "Why didn't you take my hand, that day on the train, back in first year?"

Harry looked at him surprised. "Because you were being a stuck-up prick, plain and simple."

"Oh," Draco said again. "I guess I was, wasn't I? Does it help at all to say I'm sorry, even though it's been so long?"

"Draco, you idiot. I forgave you years ago. I testified for you, for goodness sake. We've grown up, hell, we've fucked."

Draco's face went slightly pink.

"My turn, why were you so frightened about this Power of Three thing?"

Draco turned his head into his pillow and inhaled for a moment. He turned his head back to face Harry. "It's a bond, Potter. We're bonded. It's probably why neither of us have had any satisfaction in life so far, because we've been apart."

"But that doesn't make any sense; we never had a bonding ceremony or anything."

Draco scooted himself closer to Harry and trailed his hand down Harry's side. "Do you feel that?" he asked.

"Mhm, it feels so good when you touch me," Harry nearly clapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that aloud. "Damn truthwhisky."

"No, the reason it feels so good is because we're a bonded pair and we sort of,er,sealed the bond just now."

"What do you mean, sealed it? I still don't get why there's a bond in the first place."

"Look, normal people don't save people they don't like, okay, Harry. You're not normal. Not only do they usually not save people they don't like, they usually won't do it more than once. But to do it three times is like declaring undying love magically and since we've come together, our magical signatures have meshed. We're bonded, like married, only magically."

"Why are you so put out about it?" Harry asked, hiding his hurt. "I thought you liked me; you said you've liked me since first year."

"I do like you, damn it. That's not the point. The point is that this might not be real for you, Harry. Not like it's real for me. It could just be the bond that's making you feel whatever it is that you're feeling for me, not like you made the decision yourself. Does that make sense?"

Harry grinned slyly, "Then, you do like me!"

"I believe I've said that already," Draco muttered.

Harry ignored his bored tone of voice and threw himself on top of Draco, snogging him for all he was worth, putting all of the passion he felt when they were joined into the kiss.

Harry pulled back finally to look down and find the happily, sloppily, dishevelled Draco that he loved so much to see and yet had only seen once before, and he knew they would be all right, one way or another.

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The Power of Three

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