Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Ashborn	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 36149 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 34
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Chapter Thirty-Five—Forward Momentum

            Harry came stepping into the room like a nervous deer.

            Severus placed the potions vial he’d been holding carefully on the shelf beside him and turned around. He wasn’t sure what his face should look like, peaceful or welcoming or neutral or lustful, so he let it fall into whatever lines it always did when he wasn’t thinking about it. The fire was large, at least, and the bed was comfortable, with the covers turned back. Harry saw it and his eyes widened to the point that Severus really believed he would bolt back out the door.

            Then Draco came in behind him and shut and locked the door, leaning against it with a smile when Harry spun around and glared at him. Severus smiled. Draco understood Harry, it was clear. When he faced Severus again, his face was more flushed, but his breathing less heavy, and the fear gone entirely. Place him in a situation where he faced opposition, and Harry found his courage.

            “Would you like to sit down?” Severus asked, the way he would with any guest in the rooms where he and Draco had been the only people for so long. “Would you like something to drink?” He eyed the carafe of wine on the table and wondered if he should have ordered Bellatrix to bring something else. Then again, it was only since his return from the Weasleys’ that Harry had begun to eat with them, and few of those meals had included alcohol of any kind. Severus realized, with a shock that seemed to ring within him, that he had no idea what Harry drank.

            He looked forward to finding out.

            “No,” Harry said. “I don’t need liquid courage.” He shot a glance over his shoulder at Draco, as if he wanted to make sure Draco knew that too.

            Draco had started to remove his shirt, and Harry’s mouth stuck halfway open. Severus had to admit that it was worth a stare. The only remaining sign of Draco’s imprisonment was his extremely pale skin, which more than a few hours in the sun had not cured. And, of course, the changed Dark Mark on his arm, but as that was the rising dark phoenix now, Severus was not inclined to count it.

            Draco glanced at Harry and smiled, then stretched his arms back and lounged his way into the chair facing Severus’s so Harry could get a good look. “I bet I have more muscles than you do,” he murmured.

            “You do not,” Harry said, but his eyes were stuck on Draco’s chest, the lean muscles that indeed comprised it, the way the skin lingered tight around the ribs, and his voice lacked conviction.

            “Well, there’s only one way for us to judge for ourselves, isn’t there?” Draco let his eyelashes droop, and then rise again as he stared at Harry. Severus felt his smile threatening to spread out of control. He could not remember, the last time he fucked Draco, that the boy had had such confidence. Harry’s sojourn here had been good for all of them, in multiple ways.

            The breath was stuck in Harry’s throat as his jaw was stuck open, but he began to yank at his shirt anyway. Severus stood up and moved behind him, and Harry’s head snapped around immediately, his breath hushed and his shoulders bristling with tension. There stood the experienced warrior, Severus thought, who was attentive to the smallest sounds because anything he didn’t notice might mean the end.

            “Let me help you,” Severus breathed into Harry’s ear, and poised his hands over Harry’s buttons, waiting for him.

            Harry paused, thinking. Then he tilted his head back, and seemed to visibly relax, pouring calmness and lack of tension down his spine and arms. He held up those arms and gave Severus a smile that couldn’t have been more wide and loose if he had been drinking wine. “I think I will. Thank you.”

            Severus wondered if Harry knew that he became more formal in pursuit of sex, but now wasn’t the time to ask. He nuzzled his way down Harry’s shoulder instead, his fingers flicking through buttons just fast enough to make Harry’s breath speed up. Harry shifted against him, and moaned.

            “Let me help, too.”

            Draco stood up and then fell to his knees in front of Harry, managing to make it all look like part of the same graceful motion. He looked up at them, and winked. Severus thought the wink was meant more for him than Harry, who probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but then Harry’s eyes were shut as his neck strained back, and it was hard to say what he noticed and what he didn’t.

            Draco slid Harry’s trousers down his legs, pausing now and then to apparently loosen the cloth from a hair. Severus, watching the way that Draco’s nails scratched and scraped at Harry’s legs, doubted that Harry had that much hair to catch.

            Harry began to twist in their grasp, his hands reaching out to rest on top of Severus’s, then gliding down over Draco’s hair. Severus bent his head to fasten his teeth on the side of Harry’s neck at the same time as Draco pulled his head back and clucked his tongue.

            “You don’t have to do that, Harry,” Draco said. “At least, not yet. You don’t need to worry about it. Let us do all the work.” He licked the side of Harry’s hipbone and then pushed gently at his feet, until he lifted them and let Draco work the trousers over his ankles.

            Severus looked down, balancing himself with one hand against Harry’s shoulder. His mind was filled with heady mist that made him feel as if he might fall over at any moment.

            Harry’s legs were leaner than he had thought they would be; then again, the baggy clothes he often wore did him no favors in the department of looks. Muscles marked them, and scars. Severus found himself reaching down towards a long one that cut from Harry’s hip, under his pants, towards his left thigh, and then faded abruptly before it managed to reach that far.

            Harry caught his hand before it could reach the scar, and gasped, his eyes flaring open. “Not that one,” he said. “Don’t touch it.”

            Severus froze before he could stop himself. He wondered what might have caused the scar. It looked too thin for a bite. A knife scar, perhaps? One that had not knitted closed properly, perhaps because no one with Harry had had dittany…

            “Why?” Draco was the one who asked, lifting his head from where he’d been staring greedily at Harry’s groin. Severus caught his eye and frowned, but Draco lofted his eyebrows at him and shook his head, and Severus knew he was going to lose this battle. “Is it still painful to you when someone touches it?”

            Harry gulped air for a moment. The vivid flush ran all the way down his chest, and Severus saw more scars there. He frowned, his passion guttering for a moment. Harry looked as though he was twice his age in terms of fighting experience. He was, in truth, surprised that nothing had made Harry stop them before now, as being held close with teeth on his neck could be expected to remind him of bad experiences.

            “I—it’s sensitive,” Harry said, and grimaced. “Even my jeans brushing over it right after I first got it made it ache. I had to cast spells to hold the cloth away from the skin.”

            Severus didn’t think Harry was in the right place to see the unholy grin break out over Draco’s face, but he was.

            “Draco,” he whispered warningly.

            “It’s sensitive,” Draco said, and reached out, his fingers lingering in mid-air for a moment. “Has it got any less sensitive as the years go by?” His voice was calm, but his eyes shone, and his fingers poised and then inched nearer, poised and then inched.

            “Not really,” Harry said. “I mean, it doesn’t react to my clothes now, but anything new touching it, anything that I don’t—”

            Draco reached out and skimmed his fingers down the scar in a single, fast motion that Severus wasn’t sure he could have prevented even if he had already begun to move.

            Harry gasped. His head tossed back, his feet drummed on the floor, and his leg kicked out. Draco wasn’t in the way because he had planned well enough not to be, but he was back a moment later, his fingernails digging into the scar, his tongue dragging along it.

            Harry moaned, and flushed all over, his glasses slipping down his face. Severus honestly believed he would have melted to the ground if not for the cradling hold of Severus’s arms. Severus brought him closer, and felt a flash of heat not unlike the kind that was devouring Harry. He was the one holding Harry up while he experienced the most intense sensations of his life, it looked like.

            Perhaps he could let some of the fears go. Harry had powerful magic. He would fling them away from him if they did something that he couldn’t handle. Severus sank his fingers in above Harry’s hipbones, and Harry moaned again and spread his legs. Severus slid his fingers below the back of Harry’s pants, onto his arse, and Harry jumped and moaned.

            “Harry,” Draco whispered, brushing the damp spot on Harry’s pants and his inner thighs with his hair now. “Are you a virgin?”

            Severus was startled at the heat that convulsed through him—and then he wasn’t, remembering that he had asked Draco the same question once. And Harry had gone silent and still under their hands, but not in a rejecting way.

            “I also find myself interested in the answer to that question,” Severus murmured, and relinquished the closer contact with Harry in order to begin shedding his clothes. As good as touching Harry’s skin with his bare hands was, he suspected it might feel even better with bare chests.

*

            Harry was shivering. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. It certainly wasn’t cold, not when there was an enormous fire going in the hearth and two men so close to him that he could feel the gust of the breaths from their mouths.

            But he shivered anyway, and it was—

            It was like the shivers when Draco had touched his scar. (And Harry had told him, but of course Draco, the twat, had insisted on going ahead and doing it anyway). He couldn’t help it. Someone asking him if he was a virgin, in that voice…Harry suddenly thought he had been waiting most of his life to hear the question.

            But he had also thought that the only person who’d be asking him that was Ginny.

            Things change.

            He opened his eyes. Draco knelt on the floor in front of him, waiting for his answer. His eyes were luminous with the light; Harry hadn’t realized that grey eyes could look that way. Behind him, he could hear buttons tearing through cloth, and his mouth ran with water, and he nodded without meaning to.

            “Yes,” he whispered.

            Draco surged to his feet and slammed his mouth into Harry’s. His mouth tasted more metallic than Severus’s, and his breath was hotter and fiercer, and he bore Harry back and down now that Severus wasn’t there to hold him up anymore. Harry shifted, already trying to relax his muscles for the fall, sad that he couldn’t keep his entire concentration on the kiss.

            But Draco turned them as they fell, and then they were on the bed, bouncing, Draco laughing breathlessly above Harry as he broke their kiss for a moment.

            “You should have seen—you really thought that I was going to let you fall, didn’t you? You thought we would do that to you—you thought we would—”

            Harry seized Draco’s shoulders and rolled on top of him, grinding his length down into Draco’s, satisfied when Draco shut up and gasped and blinked. Then he dived down in turn, and it was his turn to kiss until his tongue was stuffed deep and Draco’s eyes were crossing with it.

            He felt someone behind him, and turned his head without relaxing the hold of his arms and legs that kept Draco pinned to the bed. He kissed Severus, used his tongue and lips and teeth in the ways that felt really good until he could feel Severus’s moan vibrating up his throat. He couldn’t hear it, they were so close. That didn’t matter.

            Nothing mattered, except what they wanted to.

            And with that realization, Harry felt as if he were flying, and he relaxed the controls, all of them, the steel coils in his soul, and let his magic out.

            It started with a low, resonant hum that made the walls of Severus and Draco’s quarters shake around them, and then Harry felt the bed take it up, not quite a singer but a song, the wooden frame and the pillows all subtly dancing to it. Harry held his breath, but didn’t clamp the controls back down again, instead waiting to see what Draco and Severus would do.

            Draco pushed himself up on one elbow and stared down at Harry in breathless wonder, his eyebrows cocked. Harry took a deep breath and pulled him down for a kiss. He could feel the hum coming from his mouth now, making his teeth buzz.

            “That’s you,” Draco breathed, leaving less than an inch of space between their mouths. “You—you can do that—you can—I never knew—” His fingers descended, wove themselves restlessly through Harry’s hair, and tugged. Harry tipped his head back in compliance, sighing as Draco kissed him nearly senseless.

            “That is him indeed.”

            Harry started. Severus had fallen to the bed beside them and had one hand outstretched, watching Harry as though waiting for his permission to touch his hip. Harry shivered as he took Severus in—lean muscles, scars, hands that still moved with the delicate precision necessary to a Potions master even though he wasn’t in the lab right now—and nodded.

            Severus’s hand was on his hip before he saw it move, his thumb smoothing up and down. Harry closed his eyes and felt his bones respond, hissing and settling in their sockets, flexing as much as they were able.

            “You don’t have to fear.”

            Harry cracked open one eye, to study Draco, hovering above him. “Well, I wasn’t afraid, but now you have me thinking that way,” he sniped. “What was it that you didn’t want me to be afraid of?”

            “This is part of the reason that you’re still a virgin, isn’t it?” Draco gestured up and down his body, eyes so intense that Harry stared at them instead of the rest of Draco, which he really wanted to look at. “Because you were afraid of what might happen if you lost control of your magic in the heat of passion.”

            “The heat of passion?” Harry repeated in disgust. “Are you listening to yourself?” And he hooked an arm around Draco and dragged him down.

            Draco squawked like an indignant chicken, but Harry shut him up with another kiss, and kept kissing him until Draco was drooping and boneless above him, panting and bright-eyed. Then Harry licked at his lips and Draco sighed and opened his mouth, and their tongues tangled together with a slowness that made Harry arch his hips in pure frustration.

            A third tongue came in from the side, and Harry turned his head to welcome Severus. His mouth tasted different than Draco’s, more metallic, as if the time he spent around potions made him have to swallow the fumes. Then Severus pushed Harry gently down and to the side, and reached up to seize the back of Draco’s neck in his hands, dragging him nearer so that he could kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him.

            Harry lay back on the pillow and frankly stared. He had never seen two people kissing like this, kissing for him to watch; Ron and Hermione had always tried to arrange for some privacy on the Horcrux hunt when they absolutely had to snog. And this was different for him anyway. He had known Ron and Hermione so long that it was difficult for him to see them as sexual.

            But Severus, with his black hair hanging down like a slash of ink, and Draco with his eyes bright and his hair mussed and his tongue reaching the longer distance to tangle with Severus’s as it retreated, and the way that they knelt on either side of his body and Harry could reach up and slide his hands down their shoulders and their chests…

            Fuck, he was hard and aching and they’d barely touched him yet. And the magic went on flooding out of him, so that sparks of lazy red light drifted above his lovers’ heads, and Harry felt his nipples stand straight up in response, and he started to flip over so that he could rut against the covers, the image of the kiss burning bright in his mind.

            Severus stopped him, Vanished his pants, and bent down without ceremony to seize Harry’s cock in his mouth.

            Harry bucked and squawked in turn, and saw Draco sprawl beside him, mouth open in something that might have been and better not be laughter, his trousers gone and his hand so busy on his own cock that Harry thought he would come before anyone else could touch him. He took his hand off a moment later, at Severus’s murmured command, and simply watched. Harry had never known what it was like to feel devoured by a gaze.

            Now he knew.

            And he knew what it was like to be devoured by a mouth, too, the sliding wet heat, the tongue that looped around the head of his shaft and held him captive there, the hands that pinned him down when he tried to get closer. Harry pleaded and moaned anyway, although he knew Severus wouldn’t let him go, and the air was dazzling with the light and the music of his magic.

            But neither of them made fun of that. Oh, now and then Draco lifted one hand to cup the air, his eyes bright and curious, and now and then Severus seemed to choke as the rhythm of the magic Harry was spreading probably traveled up his cock, but neither of them pulled away.

            He didn’t have to be self-conscious with them, not if he didn’t want to.

            Although Severus’s sucking wasn’t leaving him much room to move, Harry still managed to roll to the side and put his hand on Draco’s cock. Draco gasped and looked down at him, grey eyes bright with more of that wonder.

            Harry smiled at him, and opened his mouth.

            Draco got the idea soon enough, bright little thing that he was, squirming down the bed and arching his hips so Harry could get his mouth into position. Harry wondered for just a second before Draco came to rest on his tongue what it would be like. Would it taste so bad that he couldn’t suck? Would Draco fuck his face the way that Severus was preventing Harry from doing to him? Would—

            Then it was there, and the length, more than the taste, made Harry start and cough. Draco promptly tried to pull away, and Harry shook his head—which probably came across as a really strange sensation to Draco—and grabbed hold of him behind the legs. Draco’s mouth hung open as he got into an odd position, half-kneel and half-crouch, and rocked back and forth, his head hanging down, his hair almost brushing the bed.

            Harry sucked, and gulped, and snapped his tongue down on nothingness and on skin, and Draco cried above him. Harry felt the magic pouring out of him change; now the coils of light above Draco were blue and pulled tight with what Harry thought was probably his own smugness. He grinned and went on swallowing.

            Then Severus pushed a finger inside him.

            Harry didn’t have time for surprise or warnings or anything of the sort; he felt himself arch, he heard himself cry, and the magic pouring through his body turned shimmering and white-hot. As he came, the pleasure dragging at him, pulling through his mouth and his belly and dragging Draco’s orgasm out after his own, his one coherent thought was to hope that he didn’t burn Severus.

            Then there was no coherent thought at all.

*

            Severus pulled back from Harry and felt his eyes half-close, not because he was tired but from his sheer satisfaction at having rendered Harry Potter limp and satiated.

            Harry lay with his head tipped to the side, his wild hair spilling out across the pillow but still for the moment, his wild eyes a hazy, dissolved green. His hands rose and then dropped back to his sides. His mouth opened, and a sound probably best spelled as “Gnnngh” emerged.

            Draco was in a similar state, but he had enough energy to twist around to smile at Severus, and Severus grabbed him and arranged him in one smooth motion, and presented his own cock.

            “Watch,” Severus whispered, as he set his knees and leaned back, with his hands on the pillows and mattress next to him, to enjoy the heat of Draco’s throat. “I will expect you to do something like this next time, Mr. Potter.”

            Harry started and opened his eyes, and Severus recalled that that had been the way he addressed Harry in school. Perhaps it was not unusual for Harry to feel anxious when he heard the name again, worried that he had done something wrong.

            But then Draco extended his tongue and stroked gently, slyly, along the bottom of Severus’s length, and Severus lost most of his concentration for anything that was not the immediate pleasure.

            Draco was very good at this: patient at things that he wanted to learn, clever, inventive, good with his hands. He licked and sucked and lapped at first, giving Severus just a taste of warmth, and then sucking so deep and hard that Severus’s hips flexed and he felt his balls draw up against his body. Draco grinned at him, a sloppy grin that Severus had learned to treasure, and went back to sucking.

            Severus let one hand wander to Draco’s hair and gripped there, pulling his head up against the pull of his mouth. Draco made a sharp, contented noise, and the strength of his throat grew all the more. Severus hissed, and arched, and felt the orgasm building down at the base of his spine, thick and welcome.

            Then it came, then he came, and there was stickiness and a tingle running through him and the few exquisite moments when he felt as if the world had turned inside out.

            Then it was over, and Severus bent down, awkward as the position was, and kissed Draco as he pulled back from Severus’s groin. Draco returned the kiss enthusiastically, letting his tongue lap at the air as if begging. That would have made Severus hard again if anything could, the image of Draco begging.

            And if he was joined by Harry…

            Yes, that was a twitch in his groin. Severus smiled lazily and turned to Harry, letting himself sprawl across Harry’s legs, though he did pause a moment to rearrange things so that Harry’s knees were not poking him in the stomach. Draco crawled across them both, with a kiss to Severus’s hair and Harry’s forehead, to collapse on the bed with his arms cradling Harry.

            “That is what this can be,” Severus murmured. He thought he was the least exhausted of all of them, though he had done the most work. Well, this had been Harry’s first sexual experience, and Draco was often quite sleepy after he came the first time, and Severus did not particularly want to wake him up for more at the moment. “Do you still wish it?”

            Harry gave him a green-eyed stare, combed his fingers through Draco’s hair, and reached out. When Severus kissed his fingers, Harry lunged up, disarranging Draco and making him grumble, and kissed him.

            “Yes,” Harry said. “Yes, I fucking do.”

*

            Draco woke happy.

            It was a small thing, but then again, there had not been many times during the last three years that he was happy in this way, the way that seemed to pulse through him like a flow of honey from a hive and leave him open and wavering, his mouth falling wide, drowned in gold and gentleness.

            And obviously it’s affected my thinking.

            Draco flipped over on his elbows and studied his bedmates. Sometime during the night, he’d worked himself away from Harry, and now Harry lay sprawled with his arm outstretched as though embracing the air. Severus was on the other side of Harry, his eyes closed and his face locked in a frown. Draco would have been concerned, except that Severus always slept like that, and at least the frown was less severe than some that Draco had seen on him in the past.

            He leaned over and breathed gently on Severus’s ear. “Wake up,” he whispered. “The first morning of the rest of your life is waiting for you.”

            Severus was awake at once, of course, his muscles tensed to hit whoever was touching him, a skill he had needed many times during the course of the war. But when he realized it was Draco, he raised himself on his elbow, too, and a dangerous smile worked its way over his face. “You think this changed something, then?” he asked.

            Draco hesitated. But he had become better at reading Severus over the last few months, and he saw the half-buried flicker in his eyes, and the way that his other hand hadn’t moved away from Harry. Draco smiled in relief and touched his elbow. “Yes,” he said. “You know that it did, or you wouldn’t be clinging on to Harry the way you are, as if he’s keeping you afloat.”

            “You do come up with the most ridiculous metaphors sometimes, Draco,” Severus said tolerantly, but he unwound his arm from Harry and reached out to catch the nape of Draco’s neck, pulling him close enough to kiss. Draco went willingly, and let his mouth fall open and his tongue snake out when it seemed that Severus might end the kiss early. Severus groaned under his breath—a sound that he would never admit he made, even when Draco confronted him with a Pensieve memory of it—and pressed further into the kiss.

            Draco, leaning over Harry from the left side, abruptly lost his balance and sprawled on top of Harry. A glance up at Severus showed his mouth parted slightly and his eyes darkening, which meant he had done that on purpose. Draco opened his mouth to protest.

            “Do you usually wake people up by driving all the air out of their lungs with your elbow?”

            Draco started and looked down at Harry, whose eyes were open now, that vivid green that Draco would never get tired of looking at. He smiled at both of them and then yawned, turning to the pillow. “I’m going to get some more sleep.”

            Severus said nothing, and Draco was too disappointed to, but then he saw Severus reach out and run one hand down the side of Harry’s shoulder.

            Harry tilted his head to the side, and his breathing changed as if he were considering something interesting. “You have my attention,” he said, after a moment of straining silence.

            Severus smiled and closed his eyes, burying his face in the corner of Harry’s shoulder. Draco saw his jaw flex as if he were tasting Harry’s skin, and Harry moaned in the next second, twisting around to kiss Severus.

            Draco entered the kiss, holding both of their faces steady so that he could apply his lips. Harry curled an arm around his neck and gave him his own kiss when he was done thoroughly teasing Severus’s mouth. Draco rutted gently against Harry’s hip, and Harry laughed at him and reached down to attend to him. At the same moment, Severus reached around Harry and down.

            That was how Draco found that he was better at one thing than Harry was, something that had nothing to do with negotiations or diplomacy: Harry Potter found it extraordinarily difficult to concentrate on stroking someone’s cock when someone else had hold of his. Draco grinned, decided to make it even harder, and reached down to link his hand with Severus’s, watching as both of theirs glided back and forth.

            Harry gasped, but sped up his hand until Draco would have been afraid that Harry would chafe half the skin off him, except that it felt madly good. He made sure to have his lips on Harry’s when he came, and to watch Harry’s face as his eyes and mouth relaxed and he shuddered, and then to look up in time to watch Severus, leisurely working himself while he stroked Harry through the last of his climax.

            Harry opened his mouth after Severus had come against his back, and murmured, “Ah, so I was wrong. That is the way that you wake each other up every morning.”

            “Very good,” said Severus, and his eyes shone in a way that Draco hadn’t seen them do in far too long. “You have it now.”

            Harry rolled over and put his hands behind his head, ignoring the way that he got come in his hair. He studied them both, and Draco fluttered his eyelashes at him. Harry snorted and elbowed him in the side.

            “What are you thinking?” Severus asked, showing Draco that he, too, had recognized that firm, steady quality in the way Harry’s eyes stared at them.

            “That I’m lucky,” Harry said simply. “And that I never would have predicted this when I became a hostage to the Ashborn.”

            Draco frowned as he felt a sour note introduce itself to the conversation, and flopped back on the bed. “You know that your friends won’t like this, right?” he told the ceiling. “They’ll be sure that we tricked you into it, or that you succumbed to our darkness and are joining us because you’re evil, or something.”

            Harry sighed. “You don’t say it the right way to sound like Ron or Hermione,” he told Draco. “You need more splutter in your voice, and a higher pitch.”

            Draco rolled over and stared at him, making sure that Harry couldn’t escape his stare and understood how severe this was. “So—what? You honestly think that they’ll be all right with this and not care what you do?”

            Harry shook his head, ran his hand through his hair, and this time found the drying stickiness there. He snorted and fumbled with his wand to cast a Cleaning Charm. Draco hovered over him, shooting glances at Severus. About this one thing, it seemed, Severus was calmer than Draco, because he did nothing but catch Draco’s eye and then nod back towards Harry as if that was where he should be looking.

            “All right,” Harry said. “I think what I need to do is speak to them, and explain what happened with Yaxley. That might reassure them that I’m not evil or mad; it’s just that we really can’t free some Ashborn without them turning into Death Eaters again. And I think I ought to go back to the Burrow and spend some time with my friends, too.” He watched them both carefully, and Draco was surprised to realize that he could recognize the signs of bracing tension in Harry’s face and arms, as though he thought Draco and Severus would, of course, object and he had to be ready to meet the objection.

            “I think,” Severus said, his voice gentle and intense, “that you ought to go to them, and speak to them, and take as much time as you need. Only that way will you reassure them that we cannot make you run back to our bed at the crook of a finger.”

            Draco spun around to stare at him. “You want him to do that?” he spluttered. “When we’ve only just got him here?”

            “You’ve had me here for more than a month, Draco,” Harry said, his voice full of laughter that he managed to make not mocking in spite of everything. “I didn’t even manage to spend a full week away. I think you can be confident that I’ll come back.”

            “I didn’t mean that,” Draco said, and reached out to lay his hand over Harry’s heart. “But now that we’ve finally managed to persuade you to share our bed, to be here in heart and mind as well as body, you want us to let you go?”

            Harry’s eyes widened, and then softened. He caught Draco’s hand and kissed the palm. Draco swallowed, watching him carefully. He no longer felt the simple, uncomplicated happiness that he had when he first awoke, and mourned that. But what burned in Harry’s eyes promised something that might be as good, if more complex.

            “I’ll come back,” Harry said. “But I want peace between the halves of my life, and I want to introduce Ron and Hermione to the new parts of the person I am. That means telling them that you’re my lovers.” He half-rolled and held out his free hand over Draco’s head, to Severus, who caught it and held it, gazing at him. “Unless that’s something that you’d prefer to keep quiet for now?”

            “Let them know,” said Severus. “It may soothe their suspicions in the end, this honesty, and I do not need your friends for enemies. I have seen what they are able to do in the line of bringing down Dark Lords.”

            Harry grinned at him, and then turned to Draco. “Draco? What about you? Are you all right with it?”

            Draco grinned at him, and made himself shove away the feeling that Harry might not come back if he went for a visit to the Burrow. If Harry said that he would come back, then he would. “Are you kidding?” he whispered, and kissed Harry. “I want something that I can hold over Weasley’s head like that. Two years on the run with you, and he never managed to trip you into bed. A month with us, and Severus and I have you accepting sex with two men.”

            Harry laughed, but his face went more than slightly green. “Don’t even dream of saying something like that to Ron, Draco,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “I would never hear the end of it, and I really don’t think about him that way.”

            “But does he think about you that way?” Draco fluttered his eyelashes again, and Harry snorted again and rolled to the edge of the bed to stand up.

            “I don’t want to know. But—” He hesitated, and looked back at them. Draco let himself recline against Severus, so that they became more like a single person that Harry was regarding. Harry half-smiled and inclined his head.

            “Thank you,” he said quietly. “It’s wonderful.”

            And then he stood up and stretched, and Draco, watching his naked back and arse move and thinking of all the pleasures they hadn’t even explored yet, felt his complex happiness burst into being.

*

            unneeded: I think Harry is learning to see the benefits of being “selfish.” ;) And yes, he’s not going to argue for people that Severus’s potion would reveal would just have to be put in prison anyway.
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Ashborn