Title: Waking in the Snake Pit
Author: pervyunitwins
Team: EWE
Prompt: 9. Reparo in time saves nine
Wordcount: ~18,600
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: A wee bit of angst.
Summary: Harry veers off the expected path.
Author's Note: This is the first time I have ever participated in any sort of fic fest. I was excited to be a part of such a wonderful fest. Thanks to all the mods for holding the hd_worldcup. smirking_muse, thanks a billion trillion for your being my beta, even if it was last minute!

Waking in the Snake Pit

This story does not start like your regular stories. There is no Once upon a time. The beginning of this story starts with an end. This story starts with the end of war, to be specific. There was a war and then it ended, and that is when this story begins.

But before we get into the story, here are some facts you might want to know.

Harry Potter is a wizard. And he is the wizard that this aforementioned war revolved around. For you see, there was a dark lord, an evil wizard, if you will. Of course, you know what usually goes on in such a war: the Dark Lord wants ultimate power and he tries to kill the one person who can defeat him, which in this case was a baby. He fails, again and again and again. Finally, the war ends, because the very heroic boy kills the evil wizard. So that is where that story ends and this is where this story will begin.

A very powerful wand exists that can do very awesome, formidable, magnificent and even terrible and frightening spells, but in the right hands, it can work more than just real magic. This wand has many names: the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, the Elder wand. It is, obviously, made of elder wood and the core is that of a Thestral tail hair.

This wand is the reason that Harry Potter defeated the one who called himself the Lord Voldemort. What is truly impressive is that Harry Potter did not once lay his hands on said wand before it was used to defeat Voldemort.

Once Voldemort had been defeated, Harry made the first of many decisions that would shape his life and those of the people around him.

May Second

Harry held up the Elder Wand, and Ron and Hermione looked at it with a reverence that, even in his befuddled and sleep-deprived state, Harry did not like to see.

"I don't want it," said Harry.

"What?" said Ron loudly. "Are you mental?"

"I know it's powerful," said Harry wearily. "But I was happier with mine. So..."

He rummaged in the pouch hung around his neck, and pulled out the two halves of the holly still just connected by the finest thread of phoenix feather. Hermione had said that they could not be repaired, that the damage was too severe. All he knew was that if this did not work, nothing would.

He laid the broken wand upon the headmaster's desk, touched it with the very tip of the Elder Wand, and said simply, "Reparo."

As his wand resealed, red sparks flew out of its end. Harry knew that he had succeeded. He picked up the holly and phoenix wand and felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, as though wand and hand were rejoicing at their reunion.

"I'm putting the Elder Wand," he told Dumbledore, who was watching him with enormous affection and admiration, "back where it came from. It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, its power will be broken, won't it? The previous master will never have been defeated. That'll be the end of it."

Dumbledore nodded. They smiled at each other.

"Are you sure?" said Ron. There was the finest trace of longing in his voice as he looked at the Elder Wand.

"I think Harry's right," said Hermione quietly.

"That wand's more trouble than it's worth," said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime." ¹

Harry turned to Hermione and Ron. "I am exhausted. I really do not want to think too closely about any of the events that transpired today too much. I just want oblivion for a while. Will you let everyone know that I have gone off to find a bed to sleep in?"

Hermione pressed her lips together into a thin line and looked for a second like she might burst into tears. "Oh, Harry," she managed to get out before she launched herself at Harry. She smothered Harry in a hug, and for a moment, Harry was lost as to what to do, then he smiled faintly and returned the hug, a wand in each hand. He looked over at Ron from over Hermione's shoulder.

"Don't worry, mate. You have been through death today." Ron seemed to realize exactly what he had said and blanched. "Sorry, Harry. I did not mean...I...Oh bloody hell..."

"It's alright." Harry released Hermione. "I know what you meant."

Hermione let go of Harry and went to stand next to Ron, surreptitiously wiping away a few stray tears. "It's okay, Harry. If anyone deserves a rest, it's you. You have been through so much." She reached for Ron's hand in a gesture so natural that Harry could not help but notice, and he felt his throat constrict with emotion. He was happy his two best friends had finally managed to find each other, even if it was in the midst of a war, of the worst battle possible. "Go on, sleep. No one will mind. They will all understand."

"And if they don't, we shall personally hex them," Ron added seriously.

"You don't have to go that far, Ron." Harry tucked both of his wands into his pocket, along with his third wand. Then he took out his invisibility cloak from his where he had stuffed it earlier and put it on, leaving his head yet uncovered. "I will come and find you once I am ready to face the world again."

Hermione sniffed and nodded. Ron gave a quick stiff nod. Harry slid the cloak completely over himself and made his way out of the room. He rode the staircase back down and stepped out into the hallway. He then turned to make his way towards Gryffindor tower, hoping that no one would think to go there for many hours still.

He made it to the entrance of the tower. There was no Fat Lady to let him in, but that was not a problem. The portrait that served as a door had been left open when the students were being evacuated. Harry stepped though the threshold and looked around. The common room was mess. He walked through it, making his way towards the stairs that led to the boys' dormitory. Once he came to the nadir of the stairs he began to climb. However, he had to stop once he came around the first bend. He was blasted with a shaft of cool air and gasped. The wind caused his invisibility cloak to flap behind him.

He could not believe what was before him, or what was not before him. It would seem that as the giants battled, they had somehow managed to knock away the whole of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. That or one of the Death Eaters saw fit to blow away the tower. All that was in front of Harry was three more steps and then the sky.

Harry was thoroughly disappointed. He had really wanted to sleep in the bed that had been his for the past seven years, but it would seem that Voldemort had snatched that wish away. He turned away from where his dormitory once was and cursed Voldemort. You had to take this away from me too. Not only did you take one of my last remaining father figures, you took his wife. Their son is orphaned because of you. Just like you did to me. You bastard. I should have killed you long ago. You took a great number of my friends today. You bloody bastard!

His mental diatribe continued with nothing other than curses and recriminations. His feet carried him to a place he was not aware of. He was too focused on his inner turmoil. Once he had stopped cursing Voldemort, he began to ruminate over his list of regrets.

Harry's feet finally reached their destination and stopped. He looked up and was surprised to find himself facing the entrance to Slytherin. The door was visible for it too had been left ajar, just as the Gryffindor entrance had.

What was it that led him here? Maybe it was that his unconscious mind acknowledged that all the Slytherins, except for three, had been evacuated, and therefore, there would be a surplus of empty beds to use. Beds which would remain empty for an indefinite amount of time, for it was not likely that anyone would come to check for a long time yet.

Yes, this was the answer. This was where he would find his sanctuary. This was where he would rest, where he would succumb to the oblivion of sleep. His eyes began to droop at the mere thought of closing.

Harry stepped into the Slytherin common room for the second time in his life and looked around. Like its Gryffindor counterpart, it was mess. Harry figured it was caused by the rapidly fleeing students. He made his way to the stairs and began to climb. With each step he took, he felt as if every hour, every minute that he had been awake was weighing him down. He could hardly keep his eyes open. When he reached the apex, he was surprised that he had not collapsed and tumbled to his death down the stairs. Now that would have been ironic, having died and come back to life to defeat the darkest wizard to have ever lived, only to be defeated by a combination of a lack of sleep and a flight of stairs. Regardless, he had made it and was only a door away from a roomful of beds.

Harry looked left and right and decided that the door to the left was the closest. He opened it, noted that there were five beds, made it to the nearest green swathed bed, got under the mussed covers, shoes, invisibility cloak and all, and fell fast asleep before his head hit the pillow, all thoughts of sandwiches forgotten.

Draco and his parents huddled in a corner, unsure if they should even be amongst the celebrating masses. People sat eating and conversing, almost all of them rather joyously- happy that the war was over and that their appointed saviour, Harry Potter, had won over the greatest dark wizard that ever lived. There were bodies at the other end of the hall from where Draco was, they were lined side by side, coved in white shrouds, in two rows. To Draco, they appeared to form the teeth of a great beast, ready at any time to chomp down on anyone here. The rows of the dead were pointedly ignored, as if no one wanted to draw attention of the beast whose mouth it was; no one wanted to be engulfed by the beast that was death.

As Draco thought this, his gaze travelled past his parents and roamed that great hall. He noticed that everyone was sitting haphazardly at any of the four house tables; even Slytherin was populated by a group of the merrymaking winners of the war. Harry Potter himself was one of the aforementioned merrymakers. However, he could not be labelled as such, because he was not making merry. He was seated next to that Lovegood chit, and in Draco's usual place, he was bemused to note. Suddenly, he disappeared. Draco blinked, and he was gone. How the hell does he do that? One minute Potter is there, the next he is nowhere to be seen. It was the same when he was supposedly dead.

Draco would never admit it to anyone, but he was rather glad that the Dark Lord had not managed to kill Potter. The world would have been less interesting without him. Hell, Draco's life would have been less interesting. There would not have been someone to challenge Draco quite in the same way that Potter always did. So, yes, he was glad that Potter had survived, he was also very much glad that Potter had killed the bloody Dark Lord. That tosser had been rather mad and frightening. Draco had gotten tired of him rather quickly, but there had been nothing he could do about it for fear that his family would be harmed.

He looked again to his Mother and Father and was a thousand times grateful that they were both still alive and well and right in front of him. And he took this opportunity afforded him to hug his parents close to him once again. It was rare that the three Malfoys should share such a moment. His father was never one for sentiment and hugging. His mother hugged him and coddled him at every opportunity save those in public. He was holding on to both his parents too tightly, and though he knew it, he did not care.

He sent a silent prayer for Harry Potter for making it possible for him to have this moment. He also complimented himself at having the foresight all those months ago and not giving Potter away. He had been more than sure it was Potter, but he had not wanted to give him away, because he still believed he could defeat the Dark Lord. Besides, he had been frightened of Voldemort coming to his house once more and wreaking havoc. It had been a rather peaceful holiday with his family, while the Dark Lord was away. While the cat is away, the mice will play.

He had almost regretted not identifying Potter when the Dark Lord had learned that he had escaped. They were punished severely, and he was sure that his parents had continued to be punished after his return to school, but at this moment, he was glad he had done it, glad a thousand times over.

Draco soon learned, through his great observations and listening skills, that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been elected temporary Minister of Magic; a proper election was to be held in a few days when some semblance of order had been returned to the Ministry in particular but also to the wizarding world at large.

Kingsley was called away as soon as the battle had ended. People were already astir with all the changes that he was instituting. Many of the Death Eaters that had been caught earlier had already been taken from Hogwarts and were on their way to Azkaban or the Ministry to be held for trial.

Draco's family and he were now sitting at a table and had somehow managed to get a hold of some food. They were still huddled as closely together as possible. All three of them seemed to still hold on to a now unfounded fear that one or more members of the small Malfoy clan would suddenly be ripped away from the other half and killed for the pleasure of the Dark Lord and the watching Death Eaters. But given the fact that Harry Potter had made sure that Lord Voldemort was cold with death, it was not likely to happen. However, Draco still could see the fear of such an event happening when he looked into the eyes of his father, and it was quite strong when Draco looked into his mother's eyes.

Soon, Draco saw why his mother had such a look in her eyes. A team of three Aurors came into the Great Hall. They walked directly towards McGonagall, who was seated at the Head Table with a few other professors, likely discussing what was to happen at Hogwarts next. McGonagall drew away from the group when the Aurors approached her, and the four went to a corner and fell into a serious conversation, given the stern looks of all the Aurors and the soon to be Headmistress. Then again, Minerva McGonagall had always had a stern look gracing her face, and Aurors were known for their serious demeanour. So for all that Draco knew, they could be discussing the next time that McGonagall would grace them with her presence at the Ministry for the Monthly Amateur Stripper Night or some such meaningless event.

The thought nearly had Draco smiling, but then he took another look at his Transfiguration professor and decided that he would rather not have the image in his head, thank you very much.

Suddenly, McGonagall looked over at their corner of the table and nodded. The Aurors then turned and, together with the Professor, headed for the Malfoys. Draco felt his parents stiffen and straighten at either side of him. He guessed he was not the only one who had noticed where the Aurors had walked, and he was certainly not the only one who guessed the implications.

Finally, the four imposing figures reached the corner of the table at which Draco and his parents were sitting. One Auror sat across from the family, the other two of his companions stood behind him. Draco looked at the man sitting directly in front of him with trepidation, yet he kept his chin held high like the Malfoy he was. He wore the customary crimson robes of the Aurors, but he was clearly the one in charge of this operation. He was tall, bulky, rather like Crabbe and Goyle. Draco's brain stopped there for a second before continuing. Crabbe was gone, after all, and there was nothing he could do about it, but the Auror in front of him was a different matter.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy, Draco," the Auror spoke and nodded his head in greeting. Draco watched his rather long fringe fall into his eyes in the process. It was blonde, but only just, almost too dark to be called that, and it was long, tied back, like Draco's and his father's. "I am Auror Robert Robles, and I am in charge of your cases." He gave the three people in front of him a slightly grim smile. "I will be doing everything in my power to make sure that all three of you get a fair trial and that all the facts are straight. These are my two partners for this case: Auror Emma Berkley and Auror Stewart Heaton," Robles indicated the woman and the man standing behind him; they in turn nodded when presented and their faces remained expressionless. "I would first like to clear up a little matter. Mrs. Malfoy, would you please bare your left forearm?"

To his left, Draco felt his mother straighten even further. "Certainly, Mr. Robles." She intentionally did not use his title. He watched out of the corner of his eye as his mother gracefully pulled back the slightly tattered arm of her robe up. Perfectly white skin was revealed to everyone staring, inch by slow inch. And when the cloth finally reached her elbow, her forearm proved to be as white and clear as the rest of her. Draco was a little taken aback. He would have thought that the Dark Lord would have branded his mother with his hideous Dark Mark. But now that he thought of it, few of the Death Eaters were women. He actually only knew of one who was- his aunt.

"Right. Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy." Robles made a gesture to his right, and Heaton took out a moleskin notebook and made a few notions; presumably the fact that his mother was unmarked. Then Robles turned his gaze to Draco. "Draco, will you be so kind as to show us your left forearm?"

Draco heard his mother, who had adjusted her sleeve again, draw in a slow breath. He gulped and reached for the sleeve of his robes. Like his mother, he took his time revealing the skin of his forearm. Also like his mother, he pulled up his robe sleeve to reveal perfectly pale and unmarked skin.

Again Robles gestured towards his right, and there was more furious scribbling. "Good. Now I can proceed. Mr. Malfoy, you will be placed under arrest and are to remain in the holding cells at the Ministry until your trial date. Mrs. Malfoy, since you and your son remain unmarked, and therefore cannot be classified as Death Eaters yet, special considerations are to be taken. You are not allowed to return to your manor. Seeing as it was where the Dark Lord spent most of his time in England, it is to fall into the hands of the Ministry to be searched and all Dark objects to be removed. As a formality, I want your permission for the search." Draco's mother nodded. "Excellent." Heaton did more writing. "I will make arrangements with the newly appointed Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, for you and your son to remain here at Hogwarts castle until your trials and until Malfoy Manor can be released back to you." Draco risked a glance at the Headmistress, but it was of no use for her face remained as calm as usual. "Mr. Malfoy, we shall give you a minute to say your good-byes to your family, and then you are to come with us." Robles stood up and along with his companions and the Headmistress, moved a few feet away.

Lucius Malfoy turned to his family. "This treatment is better than I could have imagined. They, after all, did not barge in here and take me by force. They spoke to us very civilly and did not assume that we were all marked. Narcissa, Draco, you must do all that is in your power to remain out of Azkaban and to return to our home. We must do everything in our power to salvage the Malfoy name in the eyes of the Wizarding World." Lucius gave his son a particularly meaningful look. "Be strong, and dignified." Lucius Malfoy stood up. Draco and his wife followed him. He stepped away from the table and tightly embraced his son. "I know I rarely tell you, but I love you, and I am very proud of you."

Draco had a lot of trouble keeping the choked up feeling in his throat from forming tears. His father let him go and turned to his wife. He gave her a private embrace, and Draco had to avert his eyes for he was sure that his parents needed a moment. He heard his father murmur something into his mother's ear. She responded with "Yes, dear. Do not worry, I have a few cards that I have yet to play, and they will come in handy." Draco heard his parents separate, and he watched his father walk towards the Aurors. They did not restrain him, but they simply walked him out quietly. Lucius Malfoy left the Great Hall with his head held high and with such dignity in his step that a few of those tears managed to escape Draco after all.

When he turned to face his mother, Draco noticed that she had tears running down her cheeks. Narcissa Malfoy watched her husband walk away, and she did not think she had ever loved him more than she did at that moment. Then she looked at Draco and pulled him into her arms. "I am very glad that you are alive, mon petit. I do not know what I would have done without you."

McGonagall had been talking to a house elf when Lucius had been escorted out of the castle. She watched the pair of them and gave them a moment longer before approached them. "Mrs. Malfoy, I have had the house-elves prepare you a room. If you will follow me, I shall escort you there. Mr. Malfoy, I take it that you would not object to returning to your room in Slytherin given that all of your housemates have been cleared out. It should be quiet and peaceful. I trust that you do not object."

Draco shook his head. "No, Headmistress. I would like that very much." There is nothing that Draco would have liked better than to return to his own room. It had been his only sanctuary over the past school year; the only place he had felt relatively safe. Now that the other Slytherins were gone, it was a veritable haven.

Draco accompanied the headmistress and his mother to her quarters. After McGonagall had gone, he bid good night to his mother and made his way down to the Slytherin dungeons. With every step he took, he realized just how exhausted he really was. With each flight of stairs he descended, the image of his soft, green bed became clearer and clearer until he was sure that it would appear around every corner he turned.

Finally, he was standing in front of the wall where the entrance of Slytherin was. The door was visible and ajar. Probably the fleeing students did not bother closing it behind them. Doesn't matter, no one was likely to come this way. Draco stepped through the door, almost too tired to close it behind him, but he did not want to be awoken by any wandering dolts, so he made the effort.

He slowly climbed up the stairs that lead to the dorms. He did not want to hurry and cause himself injury due to his state of fatigue. When he had reached the top he could have wept. There was his door, inviting him into his room. He would never remember taking those last few steps from the top of the stairs to his bed. He would also never remember removing his clothes and shoes, everything but his pants. Suddenly he was face down on his pillow and before he could even try to guess at how and when he had gotten there so quickly, he was asleep.

May Third

Harry awoke suddenly in the night; nearer to dawn than midnight. He looked around uncertainly, still thinking that he was in a tent somewhere in the middle of nowhere. But the events of the day before come to him in a rush, and his hands clenched around the covers and his cloak, all in a bundle around him. He remembered breaking in to Gringotts. Merlin, he still cannot believe he actually got away with it. And talking to the Grey Lady, finding out she was Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter and realizing exactly where the Lost Diadem was hidden. Then the rest of the day come to him in a rush of fire, green, trains, Dumbledore, wands.

Harry's eyes suddenly widened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three wands: his own, Draco's and the Elder Wand. He has to put the wand back where it belongs. No, wait. That was not a good idea. Harry was certain that more than a hand full of people would realize where the wand was if he put it back in to Dumbledore's tomb.

Think, Harry. Where can I place the wand where no one would think to look, no one would find it? After a brief moment of racking his brain, he came up with an answer. He got out of bed, making sure to take his invisibility cloak with him, and rushed to the door, not noticing the body shift in the bed that was directly next to the one he had been sleeping in. Harry wrapped his cloak around himself as he rushed down the stairs, now a little bit less sleep deprived and no longer worried about being defeated by a flight of stairs.

When he reached the door leading out to the rest of the castle, he noticed that it was closed but did not think too much of it. He must have closed it when he came in and not have realized it in his tired state. Harry looked around for something to prop the door open with. He did not want to be locked out. He still wanted to come back here to sleep once his task was complete. He grabbed one of the cushions off of a couch and then he opened the door and stepped through it, making sure to place the cushion just so.

Harry checked that his cloak was on properly before heading to the ground floor of the castle and the exit. He reached the Entrance Hall and looked around to make sure no one was hanging around and would see him when he opened one of the giant doors. The coast being clear, he crossed the hall and opened the door, not even glancing at the doors to the Great Hall.

Once outside, Harry took a great breath and let it out in a rush. He must walk to the gate to be able to Apparate out of Hogwarts. If there was anything he remembered from all of Hermione's 'teachings', it was that. Harry followed the path leading to the gates. When he came upon them, they were ajar, he was surprised to note. He figured now that Voldemort was dead and most of the Death Eaters had been captured, it was safe to leave them open. Also, there were probably very few students or other people left in the castle.

While thinking of Death Eaters, Harry could not help but spare a thought to the Malfoys. He wondered what had become of the small family. Lucius was definitely going to Azkaban, but was Narcissa Malfoy marked? She had saved him by not telling Voldemort that he was still alive. Sure, she did it because she knew that it was the only way she was going to get to the castle to check on her son's safety, but he was sure that even she must have been fed up with the Dark Lord by then. She was, after all, very much out of favour.

Harry remembered seeing the three Malfoys huddled together when everything was over. He remembered briefly thinking how that could have been him and his parents, if only Voldemort had not decided to kill them and leave him an orphan. He could not help but be a little bit glad that Malfoy still had his parents. He was a git, but he did not deserve to be an orphan, no one did.

Before his thoughts could turn towards his now orphaned godson, Harry shook himself and passed through the gates. He could have sworn that the eyes of the winged boars on either side of the main gate were following him. He shuddered and decided to walk a few more feet away from the gate before Disapparating.

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on his destination. He hoped that the Ministry had not gotten all of their tracking spells sorted and figured out by now; otherwise, he would be detected as having Apparated without a license. He did not need someone to pop up when he was hiding the Elder Wand. He hoped for the best and popped out of existence for the briefest of moments. Then he popped back together at the kissing gate at the front of the cemetery in Godric's Hollow.

Even though this was the second time that he had visited Godric's Hollow after the night his parents died, he could not help but feel the same trepidation and uncertainty that he had felt that first time he had come here with Hermione. To think, that first visit had been more than four months ago.

Harry eased the kissing gate open, making the least amount of noise possible. He walked straight to where he remembered his parents' graves were located. He did not stop at Abbott's grave and only briefly stopped at the Dumbledore's grave. He walked deeper and deeper into the graveyard.

Harry noticed that the night air was a bit balmier than it was in Scotland. He looked around; summer was showing in everything. Where once he had trod on snow, now there was sparse grass, some weeds and a few flowers. The trees had leaves of a deep green, almost a black colour, in the brief hours before dawn. A warm breeze made them rustle, and Harry's cloak fluttered around his legs.

Finally, he came upon the two graves he had come here to find. The white marble shone even brighter in the summer night than it had that one fateful Christmas’ Eve, the wreath of roses Hermione had made still there, but brown, withered and long since dead. Harry could clearly make out every word. James and Lily Potter, eternally together in death. They were so young when Voldemort decided that their lives were not worth as much as his own. Just 21- only a little more than three years older than Harry was himself. Harry held back the tears that threatened to come, just until his task was finished, he promised his parents and himself.

Using his wand, he made a deep, but small, hole between where his father and mother must lie, side by side. He placed the Elder Wand inside the hole and sealed it back up, using magic to make it look as if the dirt had never been disturbed.

Once his task was complete, he looked back up at the white marble. He dropped to his knees and just sat there, looking at the names of his two parents, two people that he never really got to know. He let the tears come, and he did not stop them. He poured everything that had happened in the last 24 hours into those tears. He was glad he had gotten to see his parents just before his death. It had made things easier. And he knew that one day he would be joining them, but this time he did not wish he was already with them. He was glad he had lived.

Harry had much to live for. For starters, he had his friends. Ron and Hermione were the two most important people in his life; they had stood by him through the worst of it all. He wanted to live- and maybe ask McGonagall if he could go back to Hogwarts and finish his last year. He was tired of all the fighting; he did not want to fight anymore. He no longer felt that he wanted to be an Auror, that wish had died when he had stood in front of Voldemort and had been hit by the Avada Kedavra for the second time. He had no idea what he wanted to do in the future but that was fine because he still had time.

Harry laughed; this was the first time in almost seven years that he thought of himself as having time for life.

He suddenly thought of Ginny and inexplicably felt nothing. Well, not nothing exactly, but not the same feeling that was there the moment before Voldemort had raised the Elder Wand to finish him. He still loved her and still wanted to protect her. He had never wanted anything bad to happen to Ginny. He had never wanted to fight side by side with her, as she had wanted. He wanted her to stay back, to stay safe, just as Ron had. That’s it then, he loved her as Ron loved her, as a brother. Harry could accept that.

He only hoped she could too.

Harry's tears had dried. He had made two important decisions. He had hidden the Elder Wand where no one should find it. He was ready to head back to the castle.

He got up off the ground and dusted his knees off, but since his clothes were already dirty, he did not try too hard. He would have to call Kreacher when he reached the castle, and maybe he could have his clothes cleaned. He checked that the cloak was still covering him and took one last look at his parents' grave, promising to come back soon with Ron and Hermione to leave flowers. He could not leave anything this time for fear of leaving evidence of his presence. He felt that he could not even clean away the dead wreath.

Harry turned and headed back towards the kissing gate; out of respect for the dead, he would wait until he had stepped out of the cemetery to Apparate. Once he reached the gate, he stepped through and closed it. Then he was gone, leaving nothing behind, but that which would have brought him more trouble than it was worth.

Harry appeared once again, in front of the main gate, and he walked though it, the winged boars still keeping their eyes on him, even though his cloak. He walked back to the castle and thought that he would like to have a quick shower. He wanted to wash away the battle. He wanted to get rid of the last bit of Voldemort that he felt he was still carrying. He did not want to carry the resentment that he felt towards the dead man. It was not healthy.

He reached the entrance and went though. There was still no one in the Entrance Hall, and the doors to the Great Hall remained closed. He turned towards the dungeons. Maybe he would ask McGonagall if he could help with the rebuilding of the castle. Hogwarts had sustained a lot of damage in one day, and as it was partially his fault, he might as well help. The quicker it was rebuilt, the quicker the students, himself included, could return to finish their studies.

Harry came to the entrance of Slytherin and was glad to note that the cushion was still there, and he could still get into his haven. This time, he deliberately closed the door behind him. He needed to find the showers. He went up the same flight of stairs as the night before. If the Slytherin dorms were anything like the Gryffindor ones, then the bathrooms should be clearly marked. He continued on past the door that held the bed that he now considered his own; after all, most of the Slytherins were not likely to return anytime soon. He was sure the McGonagall would make arrangements for their possessions to be delivered to them.

Harry continued down the corridor, making sure to look at every door in case he came across the sign for the bathroom. Sure enough, there it was. Harry turned the door handle and went in. It looked a bit like the bathrooms the boys shared in the Gryffindor tower, or rather, those they had shared, for it was now gone. The only difference was that it seemed a bit more lavish. The fixtures were more elaborate, and there was a distinct excess of snakes fixtures and fixings.

There were five pairs of sinks in front of him, facing each other. To either side of the door there were lockers where the boys could keep their toiletries. He doubted many of them did; it was Slytherin, and anyone could drop a potion into your shampoo that turned your hair green for a week or something. There were five toilet stalls on either side and a few urinals on the other side of the room, a doorway between the lot. Harry knew that the shower stalls were though that doorway.

Harry decided to check the lockers anyway; he did need some shampoo and some soap, even if it did turn his hair green. He managed to find a bar of sandalwood soap in one of the lockers. It would have to do.

He walked, a bit tiredly, towards the showers, taking the soap with him. Just as he expected, there were clean towels on towel racks and blessed showers. He removed his cloak and hung it lovingly on a hook near the stall he had chosen to use. He stripped down, leaving his dirtied clothes in a pile on the floor for easy collection once he was out and placed his two remaining wands atop said pile.

Harry turned on the water as hot as he could bear, then he just stood under the spray. He let the hot water scald away all the dirt and grime of many days; he did not even remember the last time he had had a proper shower. When he started to prune, he finally got down to business. He lathered up and gave himself a good scrub. He washed his hair twice for fear that it had been looking eerily akin to Snape's.

Finally Harry shut off the tap, stepped out of the shower stall, and wrapped a towel around his waist. He looked over at his dirty clothes; he really did not want to put that lot back on. He did not think that a Scourgify alone would do the trick. Maybe he would just sleep in the nude for now and get Kreacher to clean his clothes at a more reasonable hour. He guessed it was close to five by now.

Harry picked up his wands and his pile of clothes, including his trainers, and headed out of the bathroom, making sure to grab his cloak, before heading back to the room he had slept in. When he was standing in front of the door trying to juggle his burden around so he could turn the handle, he noticed something that he had not noticed in his near zombie state last night; the door was clearly marked as the seventh year's dorm.

Great, Harry thought, it would be just my luck to be sleeping in Malfoy's bed.

Harry finally managed to get the door open, and it was surprisingly warm inside. He did not bloody care if he was sleeping on Malfoy's bed; all he wanted was to get back in it and sleep for a week, maybe a month. He headed for the bed that he had slept in the night before, the one to the right, and dumped his load on the floor. He removed the damp towel from around his hips and that too fell to the floor.

By now, the bed was practically calling his name. Bloody Slytherins had the best sheets that Harry had ever had the pleasure of touching, let alone sleeping on. He got under the sheets starkers and placed his wands under his pillows, as was his wont to do, burrowed in and was asleep within seconds.

Draco woke up around noon, but he did not know the time and he did not realize that he was awake. He felt so groggy that he thought he was still sleeping and was having some sort of dream. For you see, when he looked to his left, his eyes led him to believe that there was a naked Harry Potter lying in the bed next to him.

The reason he looked to his left was because Goyle usually slept to his right and he too liked to sleep in the nude. Draco had conditioned himself sometime in second year to look to the left when he woke up, because you never know when you will forget to close your curtain, and Goyle often did, and Draco rarely did. But there were those occasions when the two would coincide and Draco would get an eyeful of Goyle bits and that really was something you never wanted to wake up to in the morning. So he always made sure to wake up, without opening his eyes, turn to his left and then open them. Blaise slept to his left. Regardless of whether he slept in the nude, he was a far better sight.

But on this morning, or rather afternoon, Draco awoke, more groggy than usual, turned to his left, and when he opened his eyes, a naked Boy Who Lived (Twice or something now) greeted him. So he naturally assumed he was still asleep and just dreaming.

And what bloody good dream it was.

Harry was everything that Draco had dreamed of. Yes, Draco had dreamed of a naked Harry Potter. But no one ever knew- at least, he hoped not. If he talked in his sleep, he was sure Blaise or Nott would have somehow used it against him, so he thought himself safe.

Harry was lying on his stomach, head turned towards him, and his green eyes were looking at him. Draco did not care. He was dreaming, after all. He looked his fill. Harry's back was muscled and slick. Oh so lickable. His arse was nice and round; it looked firm. Draco would have liked nothing better than to test that theory. His legs were covered by a green sheet that made his golden skin almost glow, even though there was no sunlight, firelight, or much light at all. It was a shame that Draco could not see more of him.

Harry was still looking at him. He had in inquisitive look in his eyes, almost as if he were trying to look into Draco's soul. Those looks alone made Draco's breath quicken, made him restless and aroused him to heights he had previously not imagined.

Harry raised his head and used his hand to prop it up. A small smile had risen to his lips. Draco took advantage of the new pose to run his eyes down Harry's body a second time. Then Draco's eyes came up once more to meet Harry's amused eyes. He was sure that Harry had noticed his growing interest, because his smile grew wider.

"Do you like what you see, Malfoy?" Draco heard the whispered words, and he could not take it any longer. He threw his sheets aside.

"Please. . ."

"What is it, Malfoy? What is it that you want from me? I have saved your life twice now, if I am not mistaken. What else could you possibly want?" Harry sat up as he posed his questions, but not once did his eyes leave Draco's.

"Won't you give me a kiss? Just one. Please."

Harry had woken up on his stomach. He was so comfortable he had not wanted to move. He had opened his eyes to scan the room, thinking that it might be time to call Kreacher for some clothes. He might be able to retrieve some of the clothes he had left back at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

But such thoughts had completely flown out of his mind when his eyes had fallen on a sleeping Draco Malfoy in the bed next to his. For the smallest of seconds he had thought of leaping up and hexing the git, but Harry quickly realised that Malfoy posed no threat. He was asleep, and he had no wand. Harry still had Malfoy's old wand, and the one had had been using had likely been destroyed in the fire.

Instead of attacking, Harry was assailed by the foolish impulse to just lay there and study the sleeping Malfoy. He would likely never get a chance such as this. Malfoy was vulnerable. He was not sneering; he was not scheming; and he was not teasing and tormenting Harry and his friends. He was definitely not trying to kill anyone. Malfoy's expression was serene; it was one of pleasant slumber, as if he had no care in the world and could easily sleep undisturbed. Well, given the fact that Harry had just killed Voldemort the night before and the Death Eaters and all the other Slytherins were gone from the castle, Harry could see how Malfoy thought himself completely safe and able to sleep so deeply and peacefully. He himself had done the same, never once imagining that he was sleeping next to a snake.

But he was not as slimy a snake as Harry once thought him to be. He studied Malfoy more closely for the first time in years. He remembered the small pointed boy he had met all those years ago in Madame Malkin's. The Malfoy in front of him only vaguely resembled that small boy. He was still slightly pointed, but Harry thought that now his features would be considered aristocratic. His hair, though sooty from the fire, was still shiny in places. From what Harry could see, he had skin as white as milk, and it looked just as creamy and soft too.

Right before Harry's eyes, Malfoy shifted and turned to face him. Then his eyes opened slowly. He did not seem to register that there was a naked Harry Potter in the bed next to him, or at least, he did not seem to find it all that weird, because he proceeded to survey the picture before him. Malfoy's eyes swept the whole of him, from head to toes and then came back up to meet his own.

Malfoy's breath quickened, and Harry looked at him questioningly. Malfoy continued to look at him, so Harry propped his head on his hand to get a better look at the man before him. Malfoy once again scanned his body, and this time around, Harry realized that Malfoy was getting aroused.

"Do you like what you see, Malfoy?" Harry could not have stopped that question from forming on his lips once the thought had popped into his head. All the signs pointed to Malfoy being at the very least interested in men, and at the moment, Malfoy's reaction to him implied that he was attracted to him. Harry had never noticed another man look at him the way Malfoy was looking at him. He could not help himself; he was curious to know what Malfoy was thinking.

Suddenly, Malfoy threw off the sheets covering him and spoke, "Please..."

Malfoy was in a similar state of undress to Harry, except he still had his pants on protecting his dignity. But even that did not hide his erection from Harry.

Harry wanted to know what Malfoy wanted. What was Malfoy asking for? "What is it Malfoy? What is it that you want from me? I have saved your life twice now, if I am not mistaken. What else could you possibly want?" Harry came up to a sitting position, not letting his eyes leave his target.

Malfoy drew in a breath. Harry thought that he had never seen Malfoy look so vulnerable as he did at the moment. Not one of the vignettes that he had seen of Malfoy in Voldemort's mind compared to this look. Not even the scene on the Astronomy Tower. And suddenly Harry understood why Malfoy had that certain look on his face. "Won't you give me a kiss? Just one. Please."

It was the please that did it for Harry. It was the please that propelled him across the distance between the two beds. Because the please meant that Malfoy was begging and that was what the look on his face had implied.

Harry crossed the distance between himself and Malfoy in seconds. But once he reached the bed, time slowed down for Harry. He placed his left knee on the bed, just below Malfoy's waist. Only the toes of his right foot remained on the stone floor, and he had the time to notice there was a mat under his toes, because they did not touch the cold stone floor. His left hand went across Malfoy's face and was placed on the mattress right next to his head as support. Harry caressed Malfoy's cheek with his free hand. Finally, he joined his lips to Malfoy's.

Draco had stopped breathing the second Harry's hand had touched his cheek. He was enthralled by the vision before him. Harry bleeding Potter was about to kiss him. It was like all his birthdays rolled into one.

Harry's face was coming closer so he made himself take a breath. Eventually, Harry's lips descended on his. Draco was not a stranger to kissing and by all intents and purposes neither was Harry. His mouth was hard and forceful, filled with passion.

Draco groaned into the kiss and plunged his hands into Harry's hair. It was as soft as silk. He pulled him in closer. Draco's lips parted of their own volition, and Harry's tongue was quick to attack. It raided and caressed his mouth, and Draco felt a fire creep throughout all his limbs. Harry's kiss was setting Draco aflame.

Harry had stopped thinking the moment Draco kissed him back. Draco's lips were soft and kissing him was intoxicating, and very different from kissing anyone else. Draco was carding his fingers though Harry's hair, and it was driving him up the wall. He deepened the kiss, and Draco opened up to him willingly enough. Harry kissed him until they were both breathless and trembling and Draco's fingers were clenched in his hair.

He pulled back suddenly to catch his breath, and Draco arched his neck as if to follow his mouth. And what a lovely neck it was. Harry could not help but lean in and kiss it. He kissed and nibbled and sucked, his ministrations sure to leave a mark. Draco moaned and gasped. Harry lifted his head, and Draco whined in protest. Then he bent his head back down to reclaim Draco's lips in another torrid kiss.

Draco was in seventh heaven. No one had ever kissed him as Harry was kissing him now. He was practically melting into a puddle of goo. Then he was kissing his neck, leaving a mark. How deliciously possessive Harry was. Harry kissed him again, and Draco moved his hands to his back and tugged him so that he was lying fully on top of him. Harry shifted, and Draco willingly spread his legs to accommodate him. This new position brought their bodies together intimately and the shock of pleasure caused Draco to wretch his mouth from Harry's.

The body lying on top of him that was now feathering his neck with kisses was very much real. He was not dreaming. Harry Potter was really kissing him, Harry Potter really was there.

"Bloody hell, I'm not dreaming."

Harry was in a haze of pleasure. He has never experienced anything like it in his life, and yesterday, he never thought he would live long enough to experience it. Draco was so responsive; he was like a Wildfire Whiz-Bang in Harry's arms.

Draco was saying something, but Harry was beyond hearing. Abruptly, he was shoved away from Draco, and he landed on the floor.

"Oye, what's the big deal?" Harry was indignant.

"You are not a dream." Draco looked at him incredulously.

"Obviously." Harry stood up and turned towards Draco. "Are you daft or something?"

"You're naked! And you were kissing me. And you are not a fucking dream!" Draco was verging on the hysterical.

"Calm down. You were the one who asked me to kiss you."

"Because I bloody well thought I was dreaming." Draco launched himself off the bed and began to pace. His hands were pulling at his hair.

"So is that something you do often?" Harry was curious to know if Draco dreamed of him often. And if he did, were they usually engaging in such intimate acts?

Draco stopped pacing and looked at Harry blankly. "Do I often do what?"

"Do you often dream of me kissing you? Or doing other such things to you?"

Draco's mouth dropped. "What? No." That no clearly said yes.

Harry smirked. "Is that so?" He climbed back into Draco's bed. He laid down with his hand behind his head, presenting his naked body for Draco to look at. "Want to tell me more about it? I am curious to know what it is I get up to in your dreams."

Draco wanted to protest, but there was a naked Harry Potter in his bed, and he did not seem to mind that he was naked. Draco wanted to climb back into that bed and do wicked things with said naked man. But he just couldn't do it. It was too weird.

"No, Potter, I will not tell you about any of my dreams. And I would thank you to get out of my bed, gather your possessions and get out of my room."

Harry opened his mouth to answer not, but decided to do as Draco asked, for now. He smiled, climbed out of Draco's bed. "Alright, Malfoy," he reached under the pillow he had been sleeping on and pulled out the two wands he had left there. He did not miss the look that Malfoy shot him when his wand was so close. "If that is the way you want to play it, I will follow your lead." Harry bent down to gather his pile of clothes, making sure to present Draco with his arse. "But one day soon, we will continue this conversation. And when that day comes, you will answer my questions." Then he was out the door.

Draco watched Potter walk out the room, and he was not sure which he regretted more: not getting his wand back when it was so close or not having had his way with Potter when he had the chance. He let out the breath he had not known he was holding, let himself drop down onto his bed and buried his head into his pillow. What was he going to do now?

July Third

Harry had been working at Hogwarts for almost two months now. When he had approached McGonagall about helping rebuild the castle, she had been more than grateful. Hermione brightened at the idea and she too wanted to help, so she set up a program to recruit workers. When she was sure that everything was in order, she had turned the program over to McGonagall with extensive notes. But, of course, the new Headmistress had been next to Hermione every step of the way and already knew everything about how to run the show.

Hermione had gotten a replacement wand, one similar to the one that had been stolen: vine wood, dragon heartstring, but it was 11 ¼ inches. Hermione had then contacted the leading Healer in memory recovery and had explained the situation with her parents. Healer Turnwell was more than happy to help one of the great heroes of the Second Wizarding War. Hermione did not rest until she knew exactly how to return her parents' memories. She was to do it herself, because being the one who cast the Obliviate, she was the most adept at being able to return their memories to complete normalcy.

Hermione and Ron had left that morning. They were on their way to Australia to collect her parents. They hoped to return in a few weeks, after having convinced Mr. And Mrs. Granger (or Wendell and Monica Wilkins, as they know themselves now) to take a brief sojourn to England. Once they had returned, Hermione would perform the necessary charm to return their memories at St. Mungo's under the supervision of Healer Turnwell and her assistants. If all went well, the Grangers should all be a happy family of three just in time for her eighteenth birthday.

Harry hoped for the best. He was sure that Hermione would be able to do the charms that were necessary; he was just worried as to how Hermione and Ron would get her parents to agree to come to England without performing any other spells on them. Healer Turnwell had mentioned that it was crucial not to perform anymore memory charms or confounding charms on the Grangers because the Obliviate that Hermione had performed had been so extensive.

Harry trusted Hermione. She was the brightest witch of their age, after all. Even Healer Turnwell had been impressed by how detailed Hermione's research had been before she performed the charm. She had also expressed her amazement at how extensive the charm had been. Hermione had created a whole new life for her two dentist parents.

After Harry had left Draco in the Slytherin seventh year dorm, he had gone into the Slytherin common room and had called Kreacher. Kreacher had been more than happy to go and fetch him some clothes. Harry had handed over his dirty clothes and had sat on one of the armchairs to await Kreacher's return. He had flung his invisibility cloak over himself in case Draco decided to come down the stairs. He needn't have worried. The whole time that Harry sat in that armchair, there had not been a peep from upstairs.

While he had sat there, waiting for a change of clothes, Harry had thought back to the events that had taken place since he had awakened that morning. He was honestly surprised with himself. What had possessed him to kiss Malfoy? Why had he been more than willing to go further, if Malfoy had allowed it? Those were the questions that plagued him as he sat there, in complete silence, and still nude.

By the time Kreacher had returned, he had no answers. He had taken the clothes from Kreacher, surprised that the house-elf knew him well enough to guess exactly what he would have chosen to wear, jeans and a t-shirt; though Kreacher had brought him one of his only green shirt, which he found odd, but had not said anything about it. After dressing, he had thanked Kreacher and had commented on how well he had handled himself during the battle. Kreacher had been so overcome by that simple comment that he had burst into tears and performed the deepest bow Harry had ever witnessed. Then he had asked if Master Harry was to return to Grimmauld Place that evening. With a quick nod from Harry, he had promised to have his favourite dinner and pudding waiting for him and had disappeared.

Harry had tucked the two wands into his pockets, wondering what he was to do with the Hawthorn wand now that he had his own holly one back. He would have to consider his options. Just as he was stepping out of the snake pit, he remembered that Draco's left arm had been unmarked, and that gave him pause. Interesting, very interesting. Then he had set off to find anyone who was still in Hogwarts.

Harry had attended all the funerals that he felt he needed to attend. Tonks' and Remus' funerals were held together, and they were buried side by side. Then there had been Colin Creevey. Andromeda had felt that she could not have a proper ceremony for her beloved husband, which had been a day before her daughter's. There were a few here and there. The last funeral that he had been willing to attend had been Fred's. It had been painful standing there amongst his adopted family, the Weasleys. All of them had been in tears. George had given a very touching eulogy, sneaking in a few jokes here and there, because it was in his nature and everyone was sure that Fred would have wanted it that way.

Ginny had been standing next to him when the ceremony was about to begin. Harry had been wondering whether she was expecting him to hold her or not. But just as George was being called to give his last farewell to his lifelong companion, Neville had arrived and Ginny had looked up at him, he had put his arm around her shoulders and she had burst into tears, clinging to him for all she was worth. Harry had looked at Neville with a surprised look on his face. When Neville caught his looks, he had looked at him pleadingly and a bit guilty, but Harry had shaken his head and smiled briefly to indicate that there was no hard feeling. Neville had won Ginny over, and Harry was glad that he would not be forced to have a talk with Ginny.

Even though it was a sad occasion, he had felt a small weight lift from his heart.

The funeral had been timed to end after night had fallen, for, in the grand tradition of the Weasley Twins, it ended with a bang. Fireworks illuminated the darkened night: shocking pink wheels, rockets with long sparkling silver tails, and a massive amount of profanities filled the sky. Everyone was shocked and amazed. As a grand finale, there was the greatest fire-breathing dragon that Harry had ever seen, and despite himself, he thought of one Draco Malfoy

Harry had also attended his fair share of trials, testifying at a few of them. The Wizengamot was drawing out everything, because they did not want to repeat the same mistakes that were committed during the time that Fudge and Scrimgeour were Ministers.

Harry had inquired and had found out that the Malfoys' trials were some of the last ones. All three trials were set for August. Lucius would stand before the Wizengamot on the fifth of August. While his wife and son had a trial date set for the seventh.

With funerals, trials and helping with repairs at Hogwarts, Harry was kept too busy to think much about the kiss Malfoy had shared. Even so, his dreams were plagued with stolen glances, caresses and drugging kisses, all of the male variety, tinged with Draco.

Draco had remained at Hogwarts ever since the night of the Final Battle, as it was now being called. It was also referred to as the Battle of Hogwarts, and Draco suspected that that is how it would go down as in all the history books. He also thought that Hogwarts History of Magic class would soon be adding the Second Wizarding War to it curriculum, not to mention the Battle of Hogwarts. Oh, and of course, Harry Bloody Potter would probably get a whole chapter in the books that were surely being written even now.

But none of those books would mention what a clever and skilled kisser he was. Not one would wax poetic about the way his hair fell gracelessly across his face. Not one author would think to comment on the jade colour of his eyes and how they glittered mischievously just before he kissed you.

Draco swore. His head had been filled with such thoughts for the past months, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had tried reading. He had even tried cleaning, horror of horrors. That endeavour had only lasted a total of ten minutes because that was how long it took him to rearrange his trunk. Promptly after which he decided that he had done enough tidying and that he should leave some work for the poor house-elves.

No matter what he had tried, Draco had not managed to get that one kiss out of his head. Potter had kissed him in a manner that no one had bothered to do. Maybe because all the people he had previously kissed had been girls. Sure, there were more than a few girls that had dared to kiss him over the years. He was in Slytherin, and girls in said house tended to go after what they wanted. He was proud to say that he had been much desired, but no bloke had ever taken the brazen liberty of kissing him, so he had no idea what had possessed him to think that kissing a boy would be pleasurable.

Yes, the kisses from the girls had been good, some of them even great, but none of them had inspired him to moan and present himself so blatantly as he had to Harry Potter. He cringed at the mere memory of his groans, at the way his fingers had clutched Harry's hair, at the way he had spread his legs for Potter. Notwithstanding such thoughts, his traitorous body chose to react at that particular memory. With a rather pleasant shiver, he remembered the feel of Harry pressing against him.

"Bloody hell, I am going crazy. I am driving myself mad."

Draco threw himself off his bed, for that is where he had been lying through most of his inner turmoil, and began to pace the length of the seventh year dormitory. He was going mad. He had rarely ventured out of his room during the day. He was forced to join his mother for all her meals in her private quarters, and she insisted that they take dinner with all the people who were helping with the reconstruction of Hogwarts. That meant that he had to see Potter exactly once every day.

Every single day for the last two months, Draco had sat with his mother at their usual table. The Great Hall had been the first place for repairs. Fortunately, it had not sustained much damage, even though that was where the most brutal duelling had taken place, the place where the Dark Lord had fallen.

The Great Hall now held many small tables scattered around the hall. There were up to ten people at each table, but his mother and he always dined alone, except for the rare occasions when McGonagall joined them out of some misplaced form of pity or compassion. His mother always led the conversations when this happened, and they never talked of anything too serious. 'Isn't the weather lovely? Do you expect it to last?' 'My mother always advised me to use this and this cream and this and this potion for this or that malady.' On and on it went, Draco bored half to death, unless the Headmistress chose to talk about some of the changes she planned to institute at Hogwarts once it reopened.

During one such dinner, McGonagall mentioned that she rather liked the set up of the tables and was thinking of keeping it this way. She said that she would still have a Sorting to start the year, to stick to tradition and to have a way to sort the students into dorm rooms, but that after that first feast, the four great tables would not be seen again for the rest of the year. Draco was a bit taken aback by this pronouncement.

It was at that moment that he looked up and caught Potter looking at him. He lost his train of thought and looked away. For the rest of that meal, he paid no mind to the conversation around him and cast surreptitious looks at Potter, noticing that Potter was usually looking at him, unless he was engaged in conversations with one of his companions at his table.

The Great Hall had been repaired in less than a week.

After a week, Draco noted that Potter always left the castle, probably to return to whatever hole he called a home. After dinner, Draco had helped the remainder of the repairs group. Ironically, one of the first places after the Great Hall that had been rebuilt had been the Gryffindor Tower. He had almost refused to help on principle alone, but thought that it would look good if he helped even though he was a Slytherin and would likely be charged with some sort of crime when his trial came.

Once the ministry had learned of his plan to help, they had sent him a temporary wand. He was technically under Hogwarts arrest, so the wand was spelled to have restrictions. No hexes or curses and definitely no Unforgivables. His mother also received a temporary wand, almost as an afterthought. The message accompanying the wands basically said the following: 'We thought since you were a witch and all and were used to using magic to make your life easy, we would send you a wand, given the fact that you are technically not under arrest. You are just not allowed to think or do anything nefarious or leave the castle.' Maybe not using that exact phrasing, but Draco had gotten the gist of it.

Draco noticed that most of the witches and wizards there were there to help with the repairs stayed far away from him. Not that he was complaining. He had no problem with being left to his own devices; in fact, he preferred it after having grown used to it over the past two years.

The minute he started getting used to working alone with a few instructions from the professors on rebuilding spells, Luna Lovegood came into the picture and disturbed his peace.

Lovegood and her dad arrived to help in the second week. They usually came during lunch and worked well into the night, along with Draco and a few other stragglers. The Lovegoods were purebloods, if a little bizarre, so naturally his mother invited them to sit at their table. Xenophilius accepted the invitation and from then on him and his daughter would sit with the two Malfoys at dinner.

Mr. Lovegood would keep his mother entertained with wild and unlikely stories. At first Draco would listen, but soon he gave them up for absurd and just stared off into space, lost in his own world of plans to restore the Malfoy name- and then there was the dream world that had been created when Potter kissed him. Undeterred by his own restrictions, his mind still wandered to those few minutes in his bed.

Draco could not help but wonder how far Potter would have taken things if he had not pushed him off. Would he have let Potter go all the way? Draco blushed at the thought.

So it was on the morning of the third of July that Draco and his mother received the news that their trials were scheduled for next month on Friday the seventh of August. They would be on the same day and back to back.

Draco was dreading his own trial. He was sure that he would get the greatest punishment that a non-Death Eater could get. Meanwhile, his mother seemed not to have a care in the world. Draco thought that she had something up her sleeve, something that as of yet, she would not reveal to him. He thought back to what she had whispered to his father before he was taken away. He was a bit reluctant to ask about it in case he was reprimanded, but he was overcome with curiosity.

Draco stopped pacing and glanced at a nearby clock. It was close to dinner time; he had better start making his way up to Great Hall as his mother hated it when he was late for dinner. With one last look at his rumpled bed, and a flash of memories of a certain few minutes in that bed, Draco heaved a sigh and walked out of his room.

July Thirtieth

It was early Thursday morning when Harry received an owl from Ron and Hermione. Complications had arisen with convincing Hermione's parents to come to England, so it would take a longer time than anticipated. Ron said he was sorry not to be there for his birthday. Hermione expressed her deepest sadness at not being able to celebrate his eighteenth birthday with him.

Harry smiled fondly as he read the missive. His friends were the greatest. He quickly penned a reply telling them not to worry, they had a whole year to celebrate his having turned 18.

Harry had promised the Weasleys that he would be at the Burrow on Saturday for a small birthday celebration.

Harry had not gotten the chance to visit his parents' grave before Hermione and Ron had left. So he figured that today was as good a day as any to go and leave his parents flowers. He took a rose each to Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore. He tried not to linger, but in the end he had unburdened himself to his parents. He had told them all about what had happened since he last came to visit. He told them about his confusion concerning his feelings.

Harry was sure that he was attracted to Malfoy, but was there something else there. He was sure Malfoy was an utter bastard with wrong ideals, plus he was a Slytherin. But then he remembered that vulnerable look on Draco's face just before Harry had crossed the distance between them to kiss him, and he wondered if there was more to Draco than met the eye.

"Mom, Dad, I do not know what to do! First of all, I have not really given much thought to being gay. Am I gay, or is it just Draco that makes me feel this way? Am I still attracted to girls?" Harry thought back to all the years where he had had constant interaction with member of the opposite sex, basically all his years at Hogwarts. He never really had much time to notice girls until Cho. He thought about Cho Chang for a moment. She had been a fellow seeker, so she had had a similar physique to his own. He looked down at his body, defiantly a man's body. He remembered being attracted to Cho because of her physical beauty.

Then he thought of Ginny. He thought of watching her grow. He had come to realize that most of his feeling had been due to his protective nature. He wanted to protect her from the world, and he had wanted to protect her from Dean, and he had wanted to protect her from Voldemort.

He vaguely remembered being attracted to the odd pretty girl here and there. There was also the Veela at the World Cup. Then he remembered Fleur. He had never been attracted to her. She was the only Veela that Harry had had constant contact with. Harry had never given that much thought until the past few months. Ron had gone crazy for Fleur when she came to visit Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, along with many other males, but Harry hadn’t.

If he was truly honest with himself, he could name a few times when he had stared a little too fixedly at one or two members of the same sex.

"So maybe I like both men and women."

Harry decided that he needed some time to think. So he sat down, right there, in front of his parents' grave.

Harry had spent most of his day sitting in front of his parents' grave alternating between being deep in thought and talking out a few things with his parents. When he finally rose, he had come to one very important decision. He was going to see where this attraction for Draco Malfoy would lead him.

Harry wanted to kiss Malfoy again. He had wanted kiss him again ever since Malfoy had made him walk away. And, he admitted to himself, he wanted to do more than just kiss Malfoy. He wanted to see just how far Malfoy would let him take things.

With a plan forming in his head, Harry made his way out of the cemetery in Godric's Hallow and into a secluded alley to Apparate back to Hogwarts.

A few weeks later at dinner, Draco was again seated next to Lovegood. Her father was telling his mother about some nonexistent animal or other. Luna suddenly turned towards him and gave him a curious look.

"Draco, I had practically forgotten to ask you if you received what you wanted most for your birthday?"

Draco looked at Luna derisively. "My birthday was well over a month ago."

"Yes, yes, I know. Your birthday was the Fifth of June. But that was not my question." How did Luna know when his birthday was? Draco shook his head. Luna smiled widely and clapped her hands together. "Splendid. So tell me Draco, what would you like as a belated birthday present?"

Draco did not have an answer. Just then, the Great Hall door opened and in strolled Potter, late as per usual. Draco's breath caught. Potter was just too gorgeous for his own good. His hair was deliciously windswept. He had his hands in his jeans' pocket, and as he walked towards his usual table, he kept his eyes on his trainers. He appeared to be deep in thought. Draco desperately wanted to know those thoughts.

Draco scowled. What am I thinking?

He was about to force himself to look away when suddenly Potter looked up and their eyes met. Draco's heartbeat sped up inexplicably, and Potter gave him the most inviting smile and his heart gave a flip. With a wink, Potter sat down and began to stuff his face.

Draco was flabbergasted. Potter had never done more than look at him blankly. He had not confronted Draco as he had promised he would. There had been no sign that he even thought about the kiss in his bed, except for the staring. Now here he was smiling and winking at Draco. What did it all mean?

Draco was snapped out of his thoughts when a giggle sounded from next to him. "I see. I will do my best."

"What?" Draco said unintelligently.

"Oh, nothing. I just know exactly what you want as a gift. Do not worry, Draco, I will not tell. I will, however, do my best to give him a little push your way." Luna stood up announced that she was done with her dinner and made her way towards Harry.

Draco stared after her with a horrified look on his face. What was she going to do?

He watched as Luna sat down right next Potter. She leaned over and began to whisper something into his ear. Potter's eyes immediately turned towards him, and Luna continued to whisper. Draco wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. What was Luna saying to Harry?

Harry had walked into the Great Hall. He knew instinctively that Draco was sitting at his usual table with his mother and the Lovegoods. He had made it a point to look up when he was sure that Draco was looking at him. He had given him a lascivious smile and then winked. Then he had sat down to eat his dinner. He was starving after having spent his day with his parents.

When he was finishing his first helping and reaching for more tasty potatoes, Luna had plopped herself down next to him. She had leaned into him and had begun to whisper things about Draco. Harry had looked up to look at Draco. As Luna catalogued Draco's usual schedule, he watched as Malfoy's horrified face turn pale. Then he smiled, and Malfoy's face went from pale to a rather becoming rosy blush in seconds.

He had no clue why Luna was whispering these things to him, but he was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. With the information that he was receiving, he was able to refine his plan of attack.

Luna finished detailing Draco's schedule. She reached for an apple and bit into it. "Oh, and his birthday was on June fifth."

Harry reluctantly tore his eyes from Malfoy's red face and turned to Luna. "But that was over a month ago."

"Then you had better think of a good present, fast." She continued to munch on her apple and gave him a pleasant smile.

Harry looked at Malfoy again. He seemed to have put his head on the table and was periodically banging it down. Harry could not keep from bursting out into laughter. "What exactly did you tell him before coming over here, Luna?"

"Just that I would do my best to get him what he wants most."

"And what exactly is it that he wants the most?"

"Why, you, of course." Harry was taken aback. "He is a stubborn one and will not admit it to himself, but it is exceedingly obvious." Luna took another bite of her apple and appeared to consider something as she chewed. "However, I do not think that anyone but myself as notices as of yet. Well, maybe his mother. She is terribly smart and she loves him, so I do not think she misses a thing when it comes to her son." Harry had to agree with that. "So will you give him what he wants, Harry?"

"Yes, Luna, I do believe I will." Harry smiled and spooned more potatoes into his plate.

Harry decided to apply phase one of his plan that very night. Harry knew from Luna's description that Draco worked on repairs of the castle after dinner. He worked for four or five hours straight before retiring to his room in Slytherin. Harry planned to be waiting in said room when he got back.

He went to Grimmauld place for a shower and a change of clothes. He did not plan to spend that night with Draco tonight. He was more than certain that Draco would refuse him if he tried to push him so far so fast, but Friday was another story completely.

July Thirty-first

It was past midnight, and Draco was exhausted. He had worked particularly hard that day in order to keep his mind from wondering what exactly Luna Lovegood had told Harry. Even now as he made his way, weary to the bone, to his dormitory, his mind drifted back to Harry's smiles, to his wink, to the way his eyes seemed to bore into him, almost as if he was undressing him with them. Draco shivered. Merlin, he was pathetic. Just thinking about Harry's green eyes made him hard. Maybe he would have a quick wank in the shower.

When he reached his dorm, he decided he was too tired to wank. He grabbed his toiletry bag from his trunk and a towel. He did not once glace at his bed, knowing that if he did he would not be able to resist. It was for this reason that he did not notice Harry Potter lounging in it, watching him through lidded eyes.

Draco was in dire need of a shower. While working on a particularly hard spell to place a window in the stone wall, Malfoy had neglected to repair the broken leg of the wheelbarrow holding cement. He moved toward the wheelbarrow still incanting the spell, but when he went to move it out of his way, the leg had given out and toppled practically on top of him. He had only just managed to move out of the way he had fallen and the cement had globed on top of him.

Luna had cheerfully come to his aid. As she helped him up and to remove as much as the cement as possible she had reminded him of that old adage, "Why Draco Malfoy, don't you know that a Reparo in time saves nine? And in this particular case, it not only would have saved you from being covered in hardening gray goo, but it would have saved that poor wall that you had been working on." She motioned towards the wall where Draco had been trying to place a window; it was half collapsed. He groaned. His spell had backfired because of it being abruptly interrupted and now he would have to start all over.

So now Draco was still covered in hard gray goo. So no, he could not fall into bed just yet. He showered quickly, forgoing a want. It was too much work and he did not have the energy, even if his cock thought he should. He left his dirty clothes in the bathroom, knowing the house-elves would collect them and bring them back to him washed. He hoped they had an easier time removing the cement from his clothes than he had had removing the bit of cement in his precious hair.

Draco padded back to his room, towel wrapped around his waist and toiletry bag in hand. He could not be bothered to put any clothes on, so he was just going to fall into bed. He stepped into the room, placed his bag on top his trunk and was just about to remove his towel when a voice spoke to him from his bed.

"Good evening, Draco. As much as I would like to see that towel drop, I thought I should warn you of my presence before you unknowingly bared yourself for me. I am an honourable Gryffindor, all things considered."

Draco froze and looked around for his wand. He cursed when he saw that it was on his night stand, closer to Harry than to himself. He would never be able to reach it before Potter.

"Do not worry. I mean you no harm. I will not try to curse you or anything. I just came back to finish off that conversation, but seeing as you are nude under that towel, I think it only fair that you allow me to get a good look. It would only be fair. You got to see me naked, and now I should have the pleasure of seeing you naked before me."

"I do not think that would be prudent."

"Come, Draco, you are a Slytherin. Since when do you do what is prudent? You should happily cast that towel off and look to see how you can turn being naked in front of me to your advantage."

Draco, being a Slytherin, could see the logic in that, but he did not want to be naked in front of Potter. Potter's eyes would be on him, caressing him and he was already embarrassingly hard. He decided to give Potter his best glare and demand that he leave.

However, when he looked up and into Potter's face, he had the biggest smirk in place and an expression that seemed to dare him to drop the towel.

Draco could rarely resist a challenge when it came from Potter. So he decided to throw caution to the wind.

Draco flung the towel away, noticing that Potter's eyes followed the towel's flight to the floor. Before Potter's attention could return to him, he had crossed the distance between them and straddled Potter's hips.

Harry gasped, for in his half reclining pose, he suddenly had a lapful of naked, pale and creamy skin. He could not resist touching, caressing. He placed his hand on Draco's knee, not moving it, just leaving it there. His eyes met Draco's, and he smiled slowly and sensually. This had not been what he expected, but he was most certainly not about to complain.

Draco was shocked with himself. He had no clue what had possessed him to climb into Harry's lap in such a fashion. Now Harry's hand was on his knee and Draco desperately wanted it to move farther up, but that hand stayed where it was. He looked into Harry's eyes and saw that they were almost black with desire.

The knowledge that Harry desired him, that he was able to have such an effect on him sent a pure thrill of power and desire down his back. He rocked forward, the tip of his cock rubbed against Harry's clothed stomach and he moaned, throwing his head back, exposing his neck.

Harry thought he had died and gone to gay heaven. There was a naked man in his lap, rocking back and forth with his neck exposed. Draco looked ready to be devoured, and Harry very much wanted to be the one to do the task. He leaned in and licked Draco's neck. It tasted just as he expected- clean and slightly salty and entirely delicious.

Draco let Harry kiss him. Why not? He enjoyed it. Sure, Harry was a Gryffindor, and yes, he had been his rival since they were both eleven. But he had gotten rid of Voldemort, a thorn in his side, and he was a damned good kisser. He relaxed against him, letting him control the kiss. Harry began to lick slowly at his lips and they parted of their own accord. Draco rejoiced when Harry's playful tongue slipped between his lips, starting a game that had his heart pounding hard against his chest. Harry's hand was in his hair holding him in place, his own fingers glided into Harry's silky strands, tugging him closer.

Harry was kissing him with a determined intensity now, his mouth slanting over his, plundering ruthlessly then backing off ever so slightly only to plunge back in. Draco licked his lower lip, and Harry made such a guttural noise that surprised Draco so much that he briefly pulled away.

However, Harry was having none of that. He practically growled and pulled him ruthlessly back towards him, once again ravaging his mouth.

Draco was drowning. Harry's skilled mouth was leaving him breathless; he feared that he would soon pass out from the pleasure and the lack of air. Draco was beginning to feel weak and crazed. He was more than certain that if he had been standing his knees would have buckled under him and he would have fallen to the ground.

Draco remembered the hand that had been on his knee and almost absently noted that it was no longer there. He did not pay that much heed, until he realized that said had was moving lazily towards his now leaking cock. Almost as if Harry had read his mind, his hand travelled the remaining length and grasped his throbbing organ. Draco tore his mouth away from Harry's and buried his face into his neck. Harry chuckled lightly into his ear and began to stroke. It was almost too much pleasure to endure.

Harry had been lost in Draco's kisses. But the moment his hand had touched Draco's member, his mind had zeroed in on the task of making Draco moan. Harry stroked him as he would stroke himself; slowly up and down with a small twist at the tip, gradually building rhythm and speed. Draco was shamelessly murmuring his pleasure into Harry's ear. His hips were moving back and forth, and since he was sitting directly on top of Harry's own erection, he was driving Harry along with him.

Suddenly, Draco's hips sped up and his cries of ecstasy grew more intense. Harry was sure that he was about to come. And sure enough, mere moments later, Draco flung his head back and gave out a primal wail. Harry's hand became covered in thick, warm and creamy come.

Harry could not have stopped himself from coming at the sight of Draco's orgasm, even if he had wanted to. He came in his pants, still watching Draco. He watched as Draco sighed and then just seemed to flop straight into his waiting arms. Harry completely ignored the fact that his hand was still covered in come and wrapped his arms around him, cradling him. Harry nuzzled his nose into Draco's hair and breathed in. He smelled wonderful- of his shampoo, sweat and something that was purely Draco. Harry could get use to this. It was undiluted bliss.

Draco felt boneless. He could not move. He did not want to move. No release had ever been as freeing and as intense. And now he was being cuddled by Harry. He did not think there was anything better than this. Then he stretched out and readjusted himself so he was spooned against Harry. Now this was true paradise. Draco promptly fell into a very deep sleep.

Harry watched Draco sleeping. He always looked so innocent while he was sleeping. He looked as if he could not hurt a fly. Harry knew that Draco could be vicious and mean, and hurtful at times, but he really was not all that bad. Most of what he had done during the war had been for his family; that was something that Harry could admire him for. Plus he was very sensual and responsive. Harry greatly enjoyed that.

He finally decided that he would be spending the night with the Slytherin after all. He snuggled in closer, threw an arm and a leg over his enemy-cum-lover and he too fell asleep.

Harry woke up for the second time in the Slytherin dorm room, except this time he was not alone in the bed. He had an arm full of Draco Malfoy, a very naked Draco Malfoy. Harry smiled at the memory of last night. He could not think of a better birthday present than waking up next to a nude Draco. He buried his nose in Draco's hair. Oh, but his hair is so soft. I could weave a blanket of it and sleep with it every day of my life and be more than content.

Harry was reluctant to get out of bed, but he was feeling uncomfortable in the crinkled clothes that he had worn the night before, not to mention that his pants were sticking to his skin and he was sure the he would have a hell of a time removing them without them taking a layer of two of the skin on his most prized organ. He winced at the very thought.

Harry disentangled his limbs from Draco, wishing he could spend the day in bed with Draco doing more of what they did last night and other naughty things. But he had to get back to Grimmauld Place to shower and change into fresh clothes. Then he had to hurry back to Hogwarts to carry out phase two of his plan. He smiled ruefully at himself. The Sorting Hat had been correct, he would have done well in Slytherin.

He grabbed his wand and summoned a quill and parchment and wrote Draco a quick note, letting him know that he was leaving his bed out of necessity only and that he would see him later to continue that conversation that they had yet to finish.

Harry thanked the powers that be for giving him the foresight to bring his invisibility cloak. It was an asset to getting out of the castle unseen. Given the state of his pants, he was not able to walk properly, even after performing a scougify. The spell left them feeling stiff, and Harry was sure that had anyone seen him, eyebrows would have been raised in amusement, if he would not have been laughed at directly.

Draco woke up and stretched. He had had a most pleasant dream. He stroked his hand across his chest and slowly trailed it further down. He paused when he realized that he was not wearing any pyjamas. Damn, it had not been a dream. He scanned the bed next to him, but Potter was not there.

Draco tried not to be disappointed, but he could not help it. Potter had used him and abandoned him before morning. He flung the sheets from himself and looked down at his traitorous body with a sneer.

Draco, you are a fool. He reached for his wand, but encountered a sheet of parchment instead. He picked it up and read it. It was from Potter. Before he could stop it, a smile had spread across his slips. So Harry did not abandon me after all

Draco,
I am sorry that I had to leave your bed, but your passion made a mess of my clothes
and I could not possibly present myself in front of McGonagall with come-stained jeans.
I have gone back home to change. I hope to see you later on today.

Harry

P.S. You still owe me an answer to my questions. Did you dream of me frequently?
And if so, how many of those dreams were of me naked? And of those naked dreams,
in how many were we engaging in such activities as we did last night?

Draco dressed in high spirits and went to join his mother for breakfast. He too hoped to see Harry later today. He planned to help out with the repairs of the castle all day today, given that he now had no reason to avoid Harry.

However, Harry had other plans. When he returned to Hogwarts some two hours later, he had brought with him not only his trusted cloak of invisibility, but also the Marauder's Map. He planned to avoid Draco when he was with other people. Then when Draco was walking the halls alone, Harry would pounce and kiss him senseless. Then he would disappear once again.

Harry smiled wickedly. He planned to drive Draco crazy. He would be expecting him after the first few such kissing incidents, but he would never know where he would be or when he would attack. As he walked towards Hogwarts from the main gates, he could not help but let out a most satisfied chuckle. He should have listened to the Sorting Hat.

Draco had been slightly disappointed when he had entered the Gryffindor tower and Harry was not present. He figured he must have been assigned to another part of the castle. Now that the tower was nearly complete, only a few volunteers were still working on it. In fact, Draco believed that after today, it would be finished.

He went to inspect the wall that he had managed to complete the day before. He wanted to make sure that it had withstood the night. Seeing that it had and looked like it would also withstand the wear and tear of many years to come, he moved on to another wall.

Draco examined the gap where a new wall would go up; this one needed a door, and decided that it would be a bigger task than the last one, so he had better take a bathroom break before starting such a complicated task.

Being a spoilt rich brat, Draco was very particular about the bathroom that he used. In fact, there was only one on the seventh floor that he found acceptable, and it was almost at the other side of the castle, but it was more than worth it for the comfort that Draco drew from it. It was always well lit and spotless, hardly anyone ever visited it, especially now that there were so few people in the castle.

He was just around the corner from his destination when a dismembered hand grabbed him and pulled him into an alcove. He thought to struggle, but then warm lips pressed against his. He froze, but he realized instinctively that it was Harry. So he relaxed and enjoyed the passionate kiss, his need to use the privy all but forgotten.

A hand made its way to his groin and his growing erection was happily groped. When he was sure he could not take any more teasing, the hand was suddenly taken away, and then Harry's lips were taken away as well. He whined in protest, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself alone in a dark alcove with an erection. He was not sure which organ needed attention first, his bladder or his erect member.

Draco almost groaned, but he snapped his mouth shut and frowned instead. Why had Potter been so cruel? He shook himself and quickly made his way to the bathroom. He had a wall to build.

The incident outside the bathroom was not the only one that Draco encountered that day. Every time he found himself alone or isolated he was grabbed and kissed or groped to within an inch of coming. Then bloody Potter would disappear without a trace. Draco was not sure what game Harry was playing. He was also unsure of whether he was enjoying it or if it was pure torture. Probably both.

By the time dinner rolled around, Draco was a bit twitchy and jumped whenever anyone took him by surprise.

He was extra cautious as he made his way to the Great Hall to join his mother for dinner. He approached every corner slowly, feeling as if Potter would be waiting around anyone of them. He made sure to listen intently in case Potter gave himself away by making a sound.

Nevertheless, Potter did not make a move, to Draco's great relief and slight disappointment.

Just as he reached the entrance to the Great Hall, Draco had come to the decision that he would not be working after dinner. The extensive spell work he had performed today, coupled with Potter's teasing, had left him rather fatigued. He thought he would go back to his dorm after dinner, take a shower and curl up in bed with a book. He was not hoping that Harry would decide to join him as he had last night. No, he was definitely not.

When Draco entered the Great Hall, he immediately noticed that Potter was sitting at his usual table, looking for all the world as if he had not spent the whole day teasing Draco to the heights of arousal and then leaving him all hot and bothered to go off to Merlin knows where. Draco scowled and walked towards his mother.

The Lovegoods were there as usual. He sat down with a cursory greeting and immediately began spooning food into his dish, hoping that his mother and Luna would notice his mood and decide to leave him alone. Mr. Lovegood would remain oblivious and entertain his mother, paying him no heed, as was usual.

His mother gave him a curious look but did not comment. Luna simply smiled mysteriously, not saying a word. Draco's frown deepened. Bloody Lovegood. Why did it always seem as if she knows exactly what kind of a mood I am in? And to make matters worse, she seems to always know the reason to my moods.

Halfway through his dinner, Draco noticed that Potter had stood up and seemed to be making his farewells to his friends. Draco drooped. So much for the small hope that Harry would come to his bed again tonight. For the rest of dinner, he merely pushed his food around his plate, his appetite gone.

Stupid Potter, how I hate him.

Ah, but that does not stop you from wanting his lips on you. It does not stop you from growing hard just from imagining his eyes. And it most certainly does not stop you from wanting him to shag you silly.

Shut up, brain. I do not need to be having an argument with myself at the moment. I need a way to drive Potter out of my mind and out of my bloody-

And out of your heart? That will not be so easy. Only you know how long he has been there. And he had been under your skin for even longer. It is useless; just give in.

No! Draco pushed his plate away and stood up, "If you will excuse me, I am feeling rather tired and have decided to have an early night."

"Are you ill, mon petit?" Draco hated to worry his mother.

"No, maman, simply exhausted from working too hard."

"Ah, mon cœur, you are not cut out for such menial activities."

"Maybe not, maman, but I like it and it is satisfying work. I bid you good night, maman. Good night Luna, Mr. Lovegood."

They, in turn, said their goodnights, and Draco left the Great Hall. He made his way slowly towards his dorm. Who was he kidding? Of course he was disappointed that Harry had left without saying one word to him. He did not count the murmured endearments in deserted classrooms and darkened alcoves.

Draco was standing in front of the entrance to Slytherin, the password on his lips when Harry appeared out of nowhere. Draco looked at him in shock and amazement, his eyes falling on the invisibility cloak. Of course, it all makes sense now.

Harry had been waiting for Draco in front of the Slytherin entrance. He had surprised him by appearing suddenly in front of him, flinging off his cloak. While Draco was distracted by staring at his cloak, he grabbed him and pulled him in for a quick and hard snog. Draco melted right into his arms.

Harry planned to give Draco back his wand. At least, he would tell him he was planning to give it back. He, unfortunately, could not actually give it back until after the trial. After all, he was sure that Draco would be cleared of all charges and allowed to have a proper wand again. He was not Harry Potter Saviour of the Wizarding World for nothing.

Harry pulled away and looked at Draco. "I hope you did not think that I would leave without coming to say goodbye. And what a very thorough goodbye it will be. In fact, I might not be through with my farewell till morning. I hope you have no objections to that."

Harry kissed him like a starving man devoured his first meal in days, hungrily and quickly. Harry mentioned something about it taking all night to say goodbye, and Draco expressed no objection to such a suggestion. He rather relished the thought.

Harry took his hand. "Come, Draco, lead me to your bed. I am ready to give you your belated birthday present and to receive one in kind." Draco gave his hand a squeeze and turned to where the door would appear and said the password loud and clear, making sure that Harry understood that it was an invitation to return whenever he wanted. He gave him a shy inviting smile and walked thought the door when it materialized in front of him.

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