Author: Bell Pie toggledog@yahoo.com

Pairings: Harry/Draco, a little Sirius/Remus

Rating: NC17

Author’s Notes: I’ve finally decided to be a little less harsh on the two boys and just bring in some good ol’ smut! Actually, rereading this for mistakes, am realizing is VERY smutty and fluffy in parts. Yay. Loving the feedback. It’s what’s keeping me writing. So please continue to R&R. This probably will have the least plot out of my planned Chapters, just because I want a break for just some pure old slash.

More AN at bottom.

Prologue

"I don’t want him in my house!"

Lucius paced the carpeted floor of his bedroom, the green and black snakes imprinted in the pattern slithering away from his feet and hissing up at him. Narcissa simply sat calmly on the edge of the bed, hands folded neatly before her, in contrast to Lucius’, which were tearing through his hair.

"He is good for Draco, Lucius." The woman spoke quietly, but with an assertiveness that belied her small frame.

"I don’t know what ulterior motive he has-"

"I don’t think there is an ulterior motive."

Lucius stopped, glared down at her in his usual condescending manner. "What? Harry Potter is in love with Draco? They’re going to settle down and enact the Impregnus Spell and have little Draco/Harry babies?"

"I have seen-"

"How can you have seen anything?" The silver-haired man snapped. "When was the last time you had a conversation with your son? You just sit there, day after day, trapped in your own little world. No, I’m the one that has to suffer through all of his pain."

"Don’t you talk to me about suffering for him." Narcissa suddenly stood up, small frame trembling, voice filled with such rage that the amazement of it silenced Lucius. This was the first time in a long while he had seen any extreme emotion from his wife. "Where were you in the beginning? Who was the one that held him while he screamed and cried in his sleep? Was it you that talked him out of turning his wand in on himself? No, you were so intent on revenge, you didn’t even notice your own son was suicidal."

Lucius felt the usual searing pain, magnified a hundred times. "Be quiet, Narcissa." He warned.

"One can only deal with so much. I couldn’t handle it. Do you understand? It was too much without you there to help me. So, now you act the good Father. Well I don’t have the strength to stand beside you. It’s been drained out of me."

"You gave up on our son!" Her husband raged.

Narcissa seemed to lose her spark, then. She sat back down on the bed, once more planting her hands between her knees. "I just couldn’t help him. There was nothing I could do to take the pain away. But Harry Potter, he does something. I see a little of the old spark return in Draco when he is near."

"Harry Potter is nothing but a whore and a fake and I intend to find out what his intentions for our son are."

Before she could reply, Lucius turned and stormed out of the room, tramping through the viciously varnished oak wood Malfoy halls with a cacophony of loud steps that annoyed many a framed Malfoy ancestor. He stopped the first house elf he came across.

"Oh, Master Lucius, sir. We tried to stop them. I am so deeply sorry, sir." The elf instantly burst into tears. "Please forgive me, sir."

"What are you blabbering about?"

The elf looked vaguely surprised. "Why, Master Draco, sir. He and his guest have… have taken over the second kitchen. Oh, I am so sorry."

Lucius’ eyes suddenly darkened with rage, effecting the elf to jump back in fear. Draco disrupting the house elves’ cooking! This was the fault of Potter, alright. He was determined that they be punished. Ignoring the creature’s feeble apologies, he apparated two stairs down to the second kitchen, in which all of the desserts were cooked.

"We should at least use magic to whip the chocolate!" He recognized his son’s drawling voice.

Lucius felt a twist of his stomach. Panic screamed along his veins with extreme anger.

He’s turning my son into a slave! Forcing him to do the work of house elves!

He opened the door to the room, intent on vengeance against Harry Potter, when a sound stopped him.

A pleasant tingle enveloped his skin, causing the hairs to stand on end. His heart started to pound in his chest and tears pricked at the edges of his eyes for the first time since… since he had seen the state of his son in Hogwarts Infirmary. After sobbing his helplessness and anguish by his somewhat comatose son’s bedside, he had vowed never to cry again.

Tears were not the conduct of a Malfoy.

But the sound was…

Amazing. Indeed, wonderful.

The soft tinkering of laughter.

Draco laughing.

He edged further into the room, following the incredible sound.

"That is dreadful. Absolutely dreadful."

"Don’t you insult me, Potter. I don’t see yours looking much better."

Lucius openly stared at the two boys standing with their back to him in the giant kitchen, appearing to puzzle over two large pots.

"Now you insult me!"

The dark haired boy suddenly turned his wand on Draco. Before Lucius could react, a splurge of cream went flying towards the boy, who ducked just in time for it to hit the stainless oven door opposite.

"Right. You’re dead, Potter!"

Draco lifted his wand. A bigger splurge of cream directed at the raven-haired boy held still mid air as he held his own wand up. It hovered a few moments, then broke and moved at snitch pace towards the two boys. Both ducked but were not fast enough, leaving Harry with cream dripping down his hair and Draco with a big pat on his shoulder.

Both looked at each other a few moments, before breaking into guffaws. Draco suddenly grabbed Harry into his arms and kissed him roughly on the lips. Behind them, Lucius cleared his throat. The boys stumbled back so quickly, it was as though a troll had wandered into the kitchen and was inspecting their food.

"Daddy." Draco turned his wand on his robes and evaporated the cream. Harry was running his hands through his hair, brushing the substance out that way, and blushing fiercely. Draco himself did not look entirely too comfortable to have his father catch him out.

"What is going on here?"

"Harry’s teaching me how to cook."

Lucius stepped up to them, frowning. "Looks as though he is teaching you how to make a mess."

He glared down at Harry. "Tell me, boy. What are your intentions?"

Harry turned his eyes to his lover.

"Look at me when I speak to you."

"What do you mean?" The boy looked willing to stand his ground, which sent a flutter of annoyance through the older man.

"Why are you so willing to debase my son?"

Harry looked flabbergasted for a moment. "It’s not debasement, sir. I do it all the time at home."

"Yes, but you live as an animal in your house." Harry glanced at Draco, as though waiting for him to defend him. The boy said nothing, simply looked from his lover to his father then back again.

"This is not a muggle household. Here house-elves do the cooking. Now, I want you both out of this room."

Draco looked to Harry and shrugged. Lucius watched them both apparate out of the room, for once not entirely sure of his own emotions. Confusion was certainly something he was not familiar with. This was through the speck of pure, unadulterated fear that Narcissa was right.

Harry Potter was doing more for Draco than either of them could together.

 ***

As soon as they apparated back to the bedroom, Draco pulled Harry forward for a kiss, only to be pushed back.

"What?"

"You didn’t defend me."

"When?" He looked genuinely confused.

"When do you think? Lucius called me an animal."

"No, he said you live like an animal. There is a difference." Draco sighed as he read rage in his lover’s eyes. "It is true. You do live as an animal. They treat you as an animal. And I despise them for it."

He reached for the hair he loved so much to touch but Harry moved away from him, turning to face the bookcase.

"Come on, now Harry. You’re acting like a child."

The Gryffindor resolutely stood as a statue, his back to Draco and his arms folded across his chest to give the effect of his splinching them off the way to the room. Draco moved to sit in the chair facing his bed.

"Why is it that whenever I tell you the truth about something, you go and do this?" He looked down at his hands. "I guess it’s always been this way."

This intrigued Harry and he turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Harry. You mean you haven’t noticed? Ok, four years ago. The Death Eaters little jaunt at the Quidditch match? I told you they’d be after Hermione."

"You taunted me! You-"

"And wasn’t I the one to warn you that the Dark Lord would be rising again and be after all mudbloods and muggles? That Cedric was the first? And what did you do? You put about a hundred hexes on me. Some thanks!"

"No!" Harry’s fury spilled over and he advanced on the boy. "Don’t you dare speak about Cedric. Don’t you ever mention him again! I saw you during Dumbledore’s speech, taunting the boy. You have no right-"

"Taunting!" Draco stood up from the chair, so he was directly facing the dark haired boy. They stood barely inches from each other. "There you go again. You didn’t know me then, Harry. But obviously because I’m Draco Malfoy, I was obviously making some horrible comment towards him during Dumbledore’s speech. Did it ever occur to you that I actually liked him, that I maybe even more than liked him?"

"Stop lying!"

"The buttons? Think about that. I didn’t need to write for everyone to support him. I could have just written Harry Potter stinks."

"If you did like him." Harry’s voice lowered but hissed deadly venom. "Then it is doubly sick that you would betray his memory at what you said on the train."

"I was trying to warn you, you idiot! It was true, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that poor fool Cedric the first?"

"No!" Harry flung his arms up in anger. "You’re lying. You weren’t trying to warn me about anything. You were ecstatic! One mudblood dead. Countless more to come. Well you got your wish, didn’t you?"

Draco stared at him a moment. "I hated the fact that I felt that way about him. It was the first time I felt anything like that before." All of the anger seemed to have leeched out of him. He collapsed on the chair once more. "I didn’t know what I was doing. I was so full of anger and confusion…" He shook his head.

"Admit it, Draco." Harry was still shaking with rage. "You were a complete jerk. You made my life hell."

"I was joking, a lot of the time-"

"Huh!" The raven-haired boy moved away to sit at the edge of the bed, kneading and unkneading his hands in a guesture unconsciously adopted from his lover.

"It’s just I happen to have a sick sense of humour."

"No, a humour at other’s expenses." Harry sighed.

"See, you seem to think I waged this all out war on you."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ok, maybe I did. But it was fun. Admit it, a part of you liked having an arch-nemesis. What’s a hero without a villain? The problem is, you were so intent on seeing me that way, you didn’t notice even when I was trying to help you."

"If you were trying to help." Harry could feel himself relenting. "You certainly have a strange way of showing it. Well, we’re stuck, aren't we? You’re no longer the arch-villain."

"No." Draco frowned. "And I really don’t like being the damsel in distress."

"How about I be the damsel in distress?" Harry lay down on the bed, smiling to himself. " ‘Oh, please don’t ravish me.’"

Taking his cue, Draco slinked off the couch and crept onto the bed as stealthily as a cat, slowly sliding his body up Harry’s until they were face to face. "I’m afraid I’m going to have to elicit pleasure from you, Harry Potter. Just lie there like a good boy."

Harry did as he was told, as he felt his lover slide down his body, to release his penis from its confines. He knew the drill. Lie still and don’t touch Draco as he pleasured him using his mouth and tongue. Indeed, now that he had discovered he could touch and kiss Harry’s penis without shame, their lovemaking invariably ended with Draco going down on him. Harry was definitely not one to complain but he did find it rather odd. To him, oral sex was a rather intimate act. And, while Draco allowed him to touch his penis, he wouldn’t let Harry’s lips anywhere near it. It made no sense to the Gryffindor that his lover was able to give him pleasure orally, but was fearful in allowing him to reciprocate.

The raven-haired boy cried out and thrust up, his own orgasm interrupting his thoughts. Draco was also disgusted by the taste of his semen. They had solved that by having the boy whisper a spell before their love making, so Harry’s release evaporated upon exiting. He had forgotten Draco had not done this but was hastily reminded when the boy crept up his body to kiss him on the lips and he felt something tangy enter his mouth. Harry instantly started to cough, scrambling up.

"Why did you do that for?"

Draco looked somewhat disappointed and hurt. "I thought you would find it sexy."

"No! I did not find it sexy!"

"I’m sorry." He hadn’t lost the frown. "Are you alright?"

"I’m fine. Just don’t do it again."

"I really am sorry."

The scowl reappeared momentarily, before the blonde went to move off the bed. Harry suddenly grabbed his arm, pulling him back. Draco’s stiffness relented when Harry pulled down the op of his robe to scratch his back. Another major annoyance was clothes, or rather the fact that neither ever removed them thoroughly. Harry had only once seen his naked body. Indeed, apart from that one time, the boy seemed rather shy to display himself.

"How’s that?" Harry asked. Draco didn’t answer but veritably purred in response. The dark-haired boy smiled to himself, drawing patterns on the alabaster skin.

"Hmmm… shooting star?"

"No, Quidditch stick."

Draco laughed. "You really are obsessed."

"Perhaps." Harry reached down to replace his hand with his lips, sucking eagerly on a knob of spine that had been tantalizing him.

"Harry Potter." Draco sighed. "Always the hero."

He suddenly turned to face his lover, reaching a pale hand up to run along Harry’s scar, causing him to stiffen.

"I have only met him once." Draco continued his finger down Harry’s cheek. "About a year ago. I had expected it to be amazing, wonderful. That was how Lucius had built it up."

Harry lifted up his hand from his face, caressing the palm, lifting each finger individually to stroke. Though he could find no fault with any aspect of his lover, to Harry, his hands seemed to be the epicentre of the beauty. Whereas Draco couldn’t seem to stop playing with Harry’s hair, Harry was constantly holding and caressing Draco’s hands.

"He came to the house. Just to meet me, I think." He started to shudder, a little. "I was so scared, Harry. Just being near him."

Harry thought of all the times he had met with Voldemort. "I understand entirely."

"He just sort of looked me up and down and started telling me that I was to be a great Death Eater, that he had great things in store for me and all this other stuff. I just wanted to get away from him. Then he told Lucius to leave the room." He stopped. "I’ve never told any one this, Harry. But after Lucius had left, he sort of… came onto me. He wasn’t vulgar or anything. Just… straight forward, I guess."

The raven-haired boy nodded, not entirely surprised.

"Well, the damned Malfoy pride came in and I told him it was disgusting that he should ask such things of a seventeen year old boy. I realized after it was a rather stupid thing to do but at the time I was just furious. But he seemed ok with it. He actually laughed. Then he said that I would have liked him when he was younger."

Harry remembered the dark haired, dark eyed Tom Riddle and was loathed to agree.

"So, there you go. I turned down Voldemort."

He looked to his lover. A slight shyness was apparent in Draco's tentative expression. Harry’s mind went to all the male ones he had turned down. The worst of them had been Collin Creevy, if only for the sheer embarrassment on the boy’s part. In fact, the Gryffindor seeker had almost relented so as not to see the sheer disappointment on the boy’s face. Neville, Dean Thomas, Oliver Wood… Oliver had surprised him. It had happened one day in the change rooms after everyone else had left. The dark haired boy had simply stopped talking about Quidditch long enough to ask Harry if he could touch him. Harry had been so shocked, he replied no before he even realized he said it. A dejected Oliver quickly changed and raced out of the room as though he had seen the snitch himself outside. Two days later, Harry, who had always secretly found him to be somewhat cute, resolutely stormed up to the shower room to catch Oliver passionately kissing Seamus. Harry sneaked away before either noticed him.

It had been Seamus who had first recognized Harry’s obsession with Draco. It had been the reason why their dalliance hadn’t gone past the first two sessions.

"I do not look at Malfoy!" Harry remembered screaming at the boy.

"Come on, Harry." Seamus replied calmly. "You barely take his eyes off him whenever he enters a room!"

Three years later, Harry could still barely take his eyes off him even when lying entangled in each other's arms. He gently moved back, until his head was touching the pillow, pulling Draco to him. The blonde sighed and snuggled up to Harry’s chest, pointing his fingers down to flick their shoes off before the covers moved up to cover them both. In that perfect slice of time, nothing mattered to Harry. He wondered, rather guiltily, if even moving inside Draco, hearing him moan and feeling him thrash about with passion could contend with-

"Again?"

Harry chuckled a little. "Sorry."

"You’ve been thinking naughty thoughts, haven’t you, Potter?"

I shouldn’t be considering such things. It’s not fair on him.

He moved his head down to smell his lover's hair. Draco’s obsession on cleanliness drove Harry insane with passion, if only because it meant he always smelled so good. He had changed shampoos recently and now his hair smelt of wildberries, such that only the giants of the northern lands could make.

"Can we just stay here?" His lover mused beneath him. "Forget Hogwarts, forget everything. Just stay here exactly like this until we die of thirst."

Harry giggled a little at the idea. He imagined Lucius walking in and finding perhaps the most happy looking corpses ever. But this was not practical. They would eventually have to move. Particularly considering Draco’s obsession with food. That was one idiosyncrasy that charmed Harry. That such a delicate looking boy had a vicious appetite. Indeed, he could wolf down twice the amount that Harry could.

"Do you know what you still haven’t told me?"

"What?"

"Well, considering we’re going back to Hogwarts tomorrow-"

Neither wanting to contemplate that, they had found various activities to distract them from the thought of returning to school or rather, University. Harry was particularly fearful as to how it would change the dynamics of their relationship. He wasn’t to see as much of Draco as he wanted and it caused a jolt to his heart to even now consider it.

"What about it?"

"What subject are you doing?"’

"Ah."

Advanced Dark Arts. Admit it.

"Well, Lucius wanted me to do Advanced Dark Arts. After my attack, I managed to talk him into letting me do Integral Wizard’s Drama."

Harry was a little taken aback. But then, when he considered it now, it made sense. The purpose of a dramatist in the wizard world was to pretend to be some one else, to imitate others. Draco was expert at this.

"I got my experience imitating you, Harry." He beamed proudly. "Watch this."

He snatched Harry’s glasses from his face, placing them over his own, to the effect his eyes were magnified to be large pale orbs in his face.

"Look in the mirror." Harry turned on the bed and looked, with blurred vision to the mirror in the corner.

"Duplicus!"

An identical pair of glasses appeared in Draco’s hand and he handed them to Harry. The boy turned to look in the mirror, to have his lover echo his movements. The uncanniness of his movement caused a chill to slide down Harry's spine. But for their extreme contrast in hair colour, along with Harry’s added height, peachier skin tone and more virulent green eye colour compared to Draco’s wintry grey, he suddenly came to the odd conclusion that the boy beside him was him and that he was Draco.

The moment was abruptly broken as Harry looked away.

"That was scary." He admitted. Draco took off the glasses.

"Here. Have a spare pair."

Harry took them and shrugged. "Ta."

Draco regarded him with his wintry eyes. "You know you rejected me first. Remember that." Harry looked up to him in surprise. "You’re the one that started us being arch-nemesis. I wanted to be friends with you. But no, I wasn’t good enough for Harry Potter."

He slid off the bed. Harry stopped him with a touch to his arm. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me explain in a sentence, ‘I think can tell the wrong type, Draco.’"

Harry’s mouth opened in surprise. "You’re bringing up something I said eight years ago?"

Draco stiffened. "Some things you don’t forget. I’m having a shower."

Harry watched his lover move to the ensuite, shaking his head in frustrated confusion. Though it had been five months since the first kiss outside Hogwarts grounds, Harry sometimes wondered if he knew Draco at all. It was as though he kept tiny vials of poison hidden only to fling them at Harry during obscurely peaceful moments, such as that one.

Maybe he thought about it after the argument and just felt compelled to throw it in to win points against me.

The sound of water running bought back the uncomfortable fact that his lover was currently naked less than ten feet away from him, yet Harry had seen that splendor only once.

"The wrong type…" Harry murmured to himself. He thought of the first time he had met Draco, at Madam Malkin’s robery. From the start, he had thought the blonde to be a pretentious, vacuous snob. He had confirmed it to Harry with his words of disgust directed at Ron on the Hogwarts Express the next day.

Strange how things change.

If Harry had known that eight years later he would be lying on Draco Malfoy’s bed in the Malfoy manor, eyes intermittently glancing at the ensuite door, where his lover was currently showering, Harry would not have believed it. But then, so much had happened that was inconsiderable at that time.

His mind went back to the day of the attack, sitting in Hogwarts hall for breakfast, listening in numbed shock as the others discussed it. What disturbed Harry the most was that mixed in with the terror and shock was the excitement of having obscenely juicy gossip. It seemed that every gossiping student was, in their own way, a miniature Rita Skeeter.

Ron had laughed, when one of the students ventured to say that someone had finally found something big and juicy to shut Malfoy up with, but had sobered upon noticing Hermione’s frown.

"It isn’t nice." She had said, quietly.

"When is Malfoy ever nice?" Ron retorted back, but did not say anything else, never the less, instead downturning his own lips to his food.

"I hear he moans really prettily." One of the fourth years shot to his friend across the table before glancing guiltily up at Dumbledore, as though he could hear him where he was seated. The headmaster was deep in conversation with Professor Mcgonagall. Snape had been looking down at the entire hall as though it would have looked better with everyone's innards on the outside. He caught Harry’s eyes. The cold smirk was unlike anything Harry had ever seen before on the man. Indeed, Harry was forced to look away. Despite the man’s cold eyes penetrating through his back, he couldn’t look in his direction, lest feel the cold chill once more, his stomach turning to ice.

"This is disgusting!" Hermione whispered to Harry. Ron turned redder than his usual pallor and seemed to sink lower into his food.

That had been but a trifle compared to the other comments directed behind the back of and towards the Slytherin the rest of his time at Hogwarts. It was almost as though his attack gave license for all to get him back for the years he had tormented them. Draco had been involved in some skirmishes in the last few weeks of school. Harry knew without a doubt that had it been reversed, he would have not been able to handle the incessant teasing. But the boy’s sharp tongue and razor wit served him well in this time.

Harry’s mind raced forward to one time when he and Draco were walking back along the lake from their favourite oak. Harry had felt drained after holding his lover to him while he trembled through a typical anxiety attack. Oliver Wood and a friend raced along the path towards them. Harry placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, expecting him to rightfully flinch. Instead, the boy held his head high in its usual arrogant pose. Not noticing that Harry and Draco were together or (and Harry more suspected this to be true) not caring, Oliver started to breathlessly grille Harry about his performance in the Quidditch finals. He had been not able to concentrate at all during the game, his thoughts directed at the silver blonde seated next to his least favourite teacher under the Slytherin banner. This resulted in Gryffindor suffering the worst defeat in thirty years.

As Oliver talked, Harry could see, out of the corner of his eye, Oliver’s friend and Draco involved in an odd stand off of sorts. They held each others' eyes, the air between them fraught with electric tension. The boy stood back, deliberately running his eyes down, then up Draco’s frame.

"It’s called physique, something I see you clearly don’t have." Draco’s cool voice ceased Harry and Oliver’s conversation. The blonde ran his eyes up and down the boy’s body, echoing his own movements. "I can see you take no pride in your appearance."

"You know what, Malfoy? It was about time some body gave you back what you’ve been giving us all these years. Ever heard of karma?"

Oliver and Harry both spoke their disapproval at the same time. Draco just stood his ground, wearing his usual supreme smirk. He and the boy continued to hold eyes.

"Hey, now that’s going too far!" Oliver stated.

Harry said something of similar effect, causing the boy to turn his attention to him. "So what, Malfoy’s your whore now? I wouldn’t waste my time, Harry."

Harry took a step forward, shaking with rage. "Now you-"

"No, don’t waste your time, Harry." Draco kept his eyes on the boy. "This moron obviously doesn’t realize that having an IQ of over ten, oh and underarm deodorant are necessary in this world."

He tapped his lover on the shoulder and walked forward with proud, graceful strides, as though the boy was of lower consequence than an ant under his feet.

"Come on, leave him alone." Oliver begged his friend. Harry stumbled after Draco as the boy offered a parting word.

"Speaking of time, what ever did happen to that pocket watch Daddy gave you? I haven’t seen you bragging about it of late."

Oliver showed his disgust by walking away from his friend. Draco stopped, frozen as perfect marble, one foot ahead of the other, one arm slightly forward. It was as though time, itself had frozen in his vicinity, leaving him in the midst of the activity of walking.

"Hey, Oliver!"

Harry vaguely heard the boy as he rushed after the ex-Quidditch captain.

"Draco?" He lightly brushed his shoulder, to have the boy shudder under his touch. He turned his steely grey eyes to his lover, pearl drops running down his smooth cheeks.

"Bastard. Utter bastard." His angered voice was at odds with his pained expression.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Harry surprised Draco upon exiting the ensuite by grabbing him by the neck and pulling him into his embrace.

"You know I love you, you bastard."

He rained kisses over his face. Draco gently uncurled his lover’s fingers.

"What’s with you, Potter? We have to leave. You’re welcome to have a shower."

Harry stood back to admire Draco’s robes. The shimmering silver complemented his eyes and adhered well to his lean torso. He had changed aftershave and now a dreamy musky scent wafted to Harry's grateful nose.

"Getting dressed up to visit Lupin, Malfoy?" Harry said, mock scornfully.

"Now, listen here, Potter. When Lupin was teaching, he really was a sad, sad act." Harry opened is mouth to protest but Draco continued. "What with those tattered robes and that suitcase." He crinkled his nose. "And yes, I may not have liked him, per say, but even at that innocent age, I would have given my right arm for a turn with him. I hope I’m not being too vague"

Harry felt the cold knife of jealousy stab into his stomach.

Of course. Who didn’t like Lupin?

"Very eloquently put." He said, dryly.

Draco laughed and pulled Harry forward to brush noses with him.

"Hon, he has nothing on you. Sure, Lupin is very pretty but Mr. Harry Potter is beautiful. That hair and those eyes"

Harry opened his mouth once more but was silenced by Draco’s finger. "I would give my right arm and leg and kidney for a turn with you, right now. But, unfortunately, we don’t have the time."

"How about a quick wank, then?" Harry smiled, reaching under his robes.

"Harry! I never considered you to be quite so crude!" The image of Lupin trapped in ivory skin and wintry grey eyes elicited a laugh from the probing Gryffindor.
 
 

"I don’t understand how you could survive all this time in this mess."

Harry rushed about his room, trying to gather up his school belongings as quickly as he could, lest his cousin, Aunt or Uncle decide to do a bit of snooping around in his room.

"This is dreadful. Absolutely-"

"Ok!"

He caught the slight smile curving his lover’s supple mouth and bit his inner lip to stop from reacting, knowing that was what Draco wanted.

The blonde frowned up at a cobweb dusting the ceiling.

"Do you ever clean, Harry? It’s really simple."

"Draco! I’m not in the mood, ok?"

He was searching under the mess of clothes in the corner of the room for the ‘Advanced Quidditch: Experimentation into the Obscure?’ book he had bought on a shopping expedition with Hermione. The grateful thought that he should just buy a new one, rather than waste more time looking for something that obviously was missing, turned him to Draco. The Slytherin had picked up a stray muggle book of Harry’s off the floor and was flicking through it.

"Let’s just-"

The door opened and Draco let out an amazed squawk. Harry noticed that his cousin had gained at least ten pounds since he had last seen him.

"So, Harry Potter and his-" Dudley’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Draco Malfoy."

Draco stood up, brushed a few silver strands away from his eyes and held his hand out.

Dudley seemed a little taken aback. He looked down to Draco’s outstretched hand, glanced to Harry then looked up to the boy smiling at him. Finally, he reciprocated the handshake.

"You don’t need to break my fingers." The blonde wheezed after they released.

"You’re in trouble." Dudley said unsurely to Harry.

"And why is that?" Draco asked, voice coated in honey.

Dudley suddenly couldn’t look the boy in the face. He looked down to his sneakers, blushing fiercely. Harry furrowed his brow in consternation.

What is he doing?

Draco tilted his head a little to the left and eyed Harry’s vastly reddened cousin, grey eyes piercing through him. He then straightened and smiled a little as though deciding something in his own mind.

"I saw you… and him at that club!" Dudley stammered.

Harry felt his stomach do an absurd backflip. He had never told his Aunt or Uncle about his homosexuality, with good reason. Uncle Vernon displayed a homophobia that bordered on pure murderous intent. He was sure that explaining to them that it was common in the wizard world for sexuality to be fluid would bring upon a rage that would be unparalleled. With animagus and other such things thrown in with either gender, it was decreed, in 1774, to be precise, that it was a wizard’s right to love whatever or who ever he or she saw fit to love, providing they were sufficient enough to love them back with equal passion. Harry had done an essay on it for an advanced credit OWL the semester before.

"What were you doing at the club?"

Harry almost kissed Draco then and there. It was such an obvious question. He was surprised he hadn't thought of it before.

"I… you… it doesn’t… YOU SHUT UP!"

"Oh, you do look rather frazzled." Draco suddenly turned to Harry and winked at him, before gesturing towards the bed. Dudley was looking at his shoes, face run over with thick molten lava.

Dudley, gay? IS THE WORLD GAY?

 Harry shook his head and reached over to his belongings thrown rather carelessly onto the bed, arranging them in something of an order before gathering up the quilt that made up his summer bedding (no cover, along with one pillow, no cover) so it wrapped around them.

"So you don’t know why you were at the club? Visiting a friend? I’m surprised you could even fit through the door." Draco laughed.

 Harry looked to his cousin, who looked frozen to the spot, eyes affixed to his sneakers.

"Look at me." The boy chanted, softly. Harry whipped out his wand and muttered a quick decreasing spell so his belongings could easily fit into his pocket as Dudley moved his head up to look at the boy before him.

Oh, I understand.

Harry often had mixed emotions in regards to his lover’s beauty. Pride in capturing such a precious gem was often undercut by protective jealousy towards the ones that informed of their amazement in various ways. In the case of Dudley, it was as though his blood under the flesh on his face was purple, nearer to black and an almost crazed lust bordering on adoration showed in his eyes.

"Do you like what you see?"

The large boy nodded a little and tentatively reached for him. Draco moved to stand beside Harry, flicking the coin portkey allowing them to Remus Lupin’s house. He took Harry’s hand, stroking gently along the palm, before handing the coin to him.

"Here." He reached into his pocket and threw a couple of galleons towards the boy. "A little deposit for your plastic surgery. Although in your case, I doubt they would make a difference. Remus J Lupin."

Harry could barely contain his amazement as he and Draco winked out of view.
 
 

Remus Lupin’s house was small but accommodating, exuding a warmth that was instantly apparent upon entering. Harry could sense Draco taking measure of the slightly scuffed but fluffy armchair taking up one side of the tiny lounge room, perpendicular to a rocking chair that laughed uproariously as it rocked back and forth. Various other chairs, lamps and rugs were also arranged rather haphazardly around the room, most facing a small muggle television. Draco stepped over to inspect this apparatus when he froze mid-walk and turned to Harry with an odd look crossing his features, bemusement intermingled with horror.

Harry gasped as his ears suddenly picked out the sound.

Creaking.

The unmistakable creaking of bedsprings, issuing from the closed door down the hall. Harry knew exactly what it meant and was at a loss as to what t do.

His bodily reaction was to blush fiercely and his mind’s reaction told him to simply grab his lover’s hand and apparate out of there.

Either that or cast a spell to enable his body to fall right into the earth beneath himself.

"Ah… Draco… Sirius and Remus…"

"Play Quidditch together?" Draco interrupted, snapping a little in his own mortification. A loud groan from the other room startled the two. Harry wasn’t sure whether it was Sirius or Remus. He wondered why he had even considered it. He opened his mouth. A second loud moan interrupted him.

"This is kind of sexy." Draco admitted and pressed himself into the back of Harry, rubbing himself gently up his lover. In that instant, the door to the bedroom opened and Remus stepped out, laughing softly. Harry held his breath a moment, feeling a stab of tiny knives in his stomach. Remus’ hair was ruffled from his altercation, sticking out at all angles from his head. His face was flushed, eyes twinkling with humour. Around his slim body he wore a simple green robe.

Harry had never seen him look more alluring.

Draco seemed to agree, judging from the hardness suddenly pressing against Harry’s buttock cheek.

Remus raced down the hall, then noticed the two boys staring at him.

"Harry. You’re early." His face contained the same mortification as theirs. "Ah. Just give me a moment."

Harry had never seen him move so fast, not even when he was a werewolf. He slipped back into the room and slammed the door.

Draco placed his head on Harry’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist. Harry shrugged him off and moved to sit in the comfy lounge chair. He wanted to punish Draco for his reaction towards his ex-teacher. The fact that the problem was now gone did little to calm the annoyance pulsing through Harry’s veins.

"That was something." Draco admitted. Harry turned his head to deliberately face the black television screen. "What’s wrong?"

Harry’s eyes bore into the inky blackness. He could veritably see the static bouncing across the surface. Draco sighed, chewed a little on his lip.

"Oh. You’re jealous, are you?"’

He walked over and reached a long fingered hand out to stroke Harry’s cheek. The raven-haired boy flinched away from him.

"You don’t even know how cute you look when you’re annoyed."

In that moment, Sirius came bounding out of the room, hair mussed, shirt buttons mis-matched.

"Harry!" He took his godson up into an all powerful hug, the smaller boy choking on the liberally applied aftershave, apparently applied to all of his body. Harry felt Draco tense beside him upon release and he took the boy’s hand. A slight tremor had overtaken the boy's body.

"Draco." Sirius held out his hand. Draco simply stared at him, cool eyes betraying his fear.

"Draco." Harry spoke quietly. "Sirius would never hurt you."

"It’s alright, Harry." Sirius smiled a little, as Remus stepped into the lounge room, deliberately making eyes at Sirius.

"What is it, Moony?"

"He's making gesture to your quickly buttoned shirt." Draco snapped.

Remus and Sirius looked at each other and giggled.

Like school kids, Harry thought, amazed.

Sirius hurriedly rebuttoned his shirt as Lupin led Harry and Draco to a dining table, with chairs that sighed when sat down on. Remus ignored the sounds emitting from his own chair and affixed his light brown eyes on the blonde opposite him. In the background, Sirius hustled around in the kitchen, making teas for everyone.

"Milk? Sugar?"

All three affirmed their choices (Harry- milk, one lump, Remus- milk, two lumps, Draco, just milk), Lupin looking at Draco intensely the entire time.

"Remus. Could you explain something to me?" The teacher broke eye contact briefly to look to Harry. This had been puzzling the boy for some time. "Why couldn’t Lucius hire any of his own lawyers?"

Lupin turned back to Draco, raising an eyebrow as Sirius placed four teas on the table and took a seat next to Harry. The Gryffindor could almost hear his thoughts. The truth was, Draco had skirted the issue when he tried to ask.

"Because all of the top lawyers are Death Eaters, harry." Lupin reached out and patted Harry’s hand where it rested on his tea cup. "I’m sure Voldemort refused to let any of them have a case involving two of his followers. Besides, it would be too risky anyway."

So, he has been forced to rely on the ones he hates. No wonder he’s pissed.

Harry jumped, splashing tea over the table as Percy suddenly apparated into the room, causing the timber soaking up the mess to grumble.

"The great Harry Potter is a little shaky, isn’t ? He jumps at the slightest thing!" Draco teased then giggled in what would have been a fetching way for Harry, had he not been so annoyed at the blonde.

"Lupin, Black." Percy nodded at them, then sat in the chair beside Sirius, back ramrod straight.

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

Harry was still a little peeved at Draco’s reaction to Remus walking out of the room.

"Tea, Percy?" Sirius was already standing. Harry felt Draco reach under the table to squeeze his leg affectionately.

"Remus, Percy. I really wish you’d call me by my first name."

"Black, no sugar." Percy turned back to Sirius.

Harry reached under the table and pushed away his lover’s hand. Draco released a moment, then reached forward once more to grab at Harry’s crotch. The Gryffindor jumped up, suddenly. Both Lupin and Percy looked at him quizzically (though Remus with some humour). Draco released and placed his hand on the table, smiling smugly.

"I…er… thought I saw a spider."

Percy, no doubt aware of his brother’s innate fear, nodded curtly. Harry looked to Draco, who was smiling at him.

Sirius placed a mug down on the table in front of Percy and returned next to Harry.

"How have you been, Percy?"

The man shrugged, peering down into his tea, as though the clear mug held the answers.

"Not too well."

There was silence a few moments, enough time for Draco to reach under the table and squeeze Harry's thigh once more.

"Should we start?" Lupin turned his muddy eyes to Draco and Percy in turn.

"I should leave then." Sirius stood up, taking his tea cup with him.

"Are you alright with Harry being here?"

Percy looked to Harry, blue eyes boring into him.

"He should know. After all, he’s involved now, isn’t he?"

Harry looked from Remus to Percy and back again, trying to read in their eyes what was happening. He caught Draco wearing the same unease on his face. The air was tinged with an electric tenseness, emanating from the locked eyes of Remus and Percy. Draco’s drawling voice abruptly broke it.

"I don’t want Harry here."

"What?"

"Ok, if that is your wish." Remus smiled softly at Harry, who was staring open mouthed at his lover, covering hurt with surprise.

"Why not?"

"Because I’m going to say what happened, Potter."

"Why? You already said it to Dumbledore."

"I need to hear it from Draco’s own lips." Remus explained. "A few things need to be cleared and verified."

Harry looked to Percy, who was interested in his mug once more.

"Harry. Leave." Draco ordered.

Harry moved his eyes from him to Remus to Percy and back again.

"Fine." He pushed his chair back with such force it scraped hard along the concrete floor.
 
 

Draco caught up with him in the lounge room, where Sirius abruptly looked up from his muggle book.

"Harry."

Draco stared at Sirius until he frowned, closed the novel and departed, before turning back to his lover.

"I can’t have you hear it, Harry." He said, softly.

Harry thought carefully before speaking next.

"My love, whatever he did, I’m ok with hearing-"

"I can’t have you hear it!"

Harry looked into his eyes, cast silver by the light issuing through shadows cast by the vertical blinds.

"I love you more than you could possibly… I need to know what he did."

Draco reached long fingers up to cup Harry’s face in his hands.

"Who’d have thought I'd be the one… if you knew all that he did… I’m not…"

Harry felt his hart break at his lover’s next words.

"You were right, Harry. Everything you can possibly do, I've done before. I can be a good little whore." He said bitterly.

Harry shushed him with a finger to his lips, feeling his eyes prick with tears.

"Please, Harry. You’re all I… you’re so innocent." He smiled, his eyes watering. "I need that. I wish you’d never…" His voice started to shake. "Never heard…"

Harry reached a hand up to stroke along his fine cheekbone.

"Ok, if you don’t want me to hear. That’s alright. I don’t need to hear."

Their mouths met in a perfect union of tongues and lips, bodies pressed together, hearts fluttering as one. They released, Harry looking into his eyes, suddenly having the urge to tell him everything. How it had killed him, little by little, every moment that he was away from the boy, how he would be content simply to look at him for hours on end, looking into those shiny grey orbs, how he had consciously loved him ever since his fifteenth year, how his feelings underscored the entirety of his life. There was only this beautiful boy before him. That was all there ever was, that was all there ever would be.

Harry sighed, grinned. He didn’t think he could articulate his feelings in such a manner that Draco could understand. The blonde grinned back.

"So annoyingly pretty, Potter." He pecked him once more on the cheek, before turning to leave the room once more.

You should talk.

Frustrating prick.

Harry grinned to himself and stepped into the hall to find Sirius.
 
 

Harry Potter, defeater of Voldemort, seventeen years before, Quidditch champion, Universally loved and admired wizard, was experiencing an extreme revelation. This was the sort one more than instinctively understood, this was something one felt, a knowledge that raced through the bloodstream with the swiftness of the Avada Kedavra curse itself.

His life, in that instant, was blissfully content. He was far away from the malice of Lucius Malfoy and did not hold any ugly memories of yet another anguished encounter the abusive Dursleys, thanks to his boyfriend in the next room.

Boyfriend, lover, mate.

Thrills of pleasure raced up his spine as he considered what fun they would have later, considering it would be their last night in the Malfoy mansion for months.

And now he was sitting in an overly cushioned armchair in his Godfather’s lover’s study, sipping Gillywater before a crackling fire. With Sirius chatting away merrily beside him and the knowledge of Draco just a few feet away in the other room, Harry couldn’t imagine a better scenario. The only two missing were Ron and Hermione.

"That day in the Shrieking Cabin… it was unfortunate you children were there. He was exactly as I remembered him."

"That’s why, isn’t it? That’s how you were able to survive Azkaban?"

Sirius looked intently at him from his own comfy armchair. Pride spiraled from Harry’s stomach at his Godfather’s intense handsomeness.

"My knowledge of my own innocence kept me sane. But it is true, he gave me the impetus to strive to stay alive. Fortunate for me that you, Peter and him were all at Hogwarts together." A momentary frown marred his fine features. "We have suffered a lot, Harry. More than you could know. It started even before we left Hogwarts. You will find out one day, perhaps soon."

Harry’s brow crinkled in consternation. He didn't know what Sirius was talking about but it was concerning him.

"Werewolves mate for live. So, we’re stuck with each other. Not that it’s such an inconvenience."

The sudden glitter in his dark eyes made Harry wonder what he was really like at high school. He was well aware of his intense brilliance and trouble-making. Remus Lupin, however, was harder to visualize in that role.

But then people seemed apt to surprise him.

He remembered the day Sirius had told him about him and Remus. The usual calm and collected man was shaking from nerves. Harry grinned.

"What is it?" Sirius returned the smile.

His godson shook his head.

"Draco… he looks so much like Lucius. You are probably aware that he wasn’t the most stable man in my time at Hogwarts. We hated each other." He admitted.

"So did Draco and me. It’s true." Harry countered Sirius’ raised brow.

"Well, he does have a lot of fire to him, that one. I’m relieved you didn’t choose a door mat. Not that you would." Sirius said abruptly to halt Harry’s complaints. "And he certainly has looks enough. In fact, he reminds me a lot of Remus when he was at Hogwarts. Similar gestures and movement."

This time Harry raised a brow. He had not caught that.

"Harry!"

The boy jumped as just spoken of lover apparated into the room. Why Draco didn’t bother to simply walk the few feet down the hall was momentarily queried then mollified. Harry traveled his eyes up his lover’s defined body under his silver robes, moving to his alabaster neck, past the slight adam’s apple to the pointed chin, over the full lips to the chiseled nose and cheeks, finally reaching the cool grey eyes, framed by golden lashes.

Remus Lupin.

Sure, he had looks, could be considered beautiful even. But this boy stood like a Nordic God desiring worship, adulation-

"What? Is my hair on fire, Potter?" He managed a tired grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"I want to leave now. You should say goodbye to the others."

Harry nodded and turned to see that Sirius had already apparated out of the room.

"Harry."

Draco stared at him a moment. He knew his lover well enough to understand that the blonde wanted to tell him something of dire import.

"What is it?"

Draco reached over to take his hand. "I’m sorry for what you will soon find out."

This strange behavior only seemed to frustrate Harry. Why was it that people felt the need to keep him from truths? He felt as if he was wandering around with barely the light of his wand in his current darkness.

"I do like him, Harry. Despite who he is. That’s why I am just as angry as you about what happened."

"Who? Harry asked, exasperated. "Who are you talking about? What are you talking about?"

The boy smiled. "For once I will keep my big mouth rightfully shut."

Harry deliberately loudly sighed. Perhaps this was just one of Draco’s games.

"Fine." He tried unsuccessfully to keep the bitterness from his voice. "I have to say goodbye to the others."
 
 
 
 

Two hours later, Harry lay waiting on his lover’s bed, feeling radiant from blissfully scalding shower he had just endured and smelling of wildberries, his ebony locks freshly shampooed. He had been desperate to start making out as soon as they arrived back at the Malfoy Mansion but instead was whisked downstairs to the family’s intolerable dinner. Then Draco had insisted they take showers.

Harry was tempted to give the boy a naked surprise when he stepped out of the shower but opted out, knowing too well the effect would be more frightening for him than arousing.

One day I’ll be able to walk around his room totally naked in front of him and vice versa.

The thought was of some comfort to him. Though Harry liked to see all of Draco clearly when making love (or the closest definition he could come to it, considering they did not do it in the literal sense) his glasses always became a distraction. He slipped them off his face and placed them on the bedside drawer.

In that instant, his lover stepped out of the shower, his shimmering silver robes replaced with azure blue.

He studied Harry, moving his grey eyes slowly up his body, taking in every contour. Harry felt his own electrical charge follow his lover’s blatant stare. Draco sighed and crept up the bed to lie on top of the dark haired boy.

"So, you have to be perfect in looks also."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by the other boy’s kiss. He reached a hand up to stroke through Draco’s freshly wet hair, the other slipping in his robes to stroke softly along his chest, paying particular attention to his left nipple. Draco grabbed his waist and pulled him forward, hands fumbling with his pants. Harry reached through the folds of his lover’s robes, pulling them open at the top to reveal his pale, hairless chest before forsaking his mouth to concentrate his teeth and tongue on the tiny pink bud. The blonde managed to undo Harry’s trousers and slipped his hand inside, pulling him out and expertly manipulating him in a way as to elicit groans, pushing his own hardness sharply up to Harry’s hip.

"Stop. Stop, hon." Harry gently halted him as he began his slow move down his body.

"What? What is it?" He offered a petulant stare.

Harry slid down to catch their lips together once more.

"I want to do it, for once."

A convolution of emotions twisted Draco’s face, fear and nervousness eventually winning out.

"No. No, I can’t. You know this."

Harry gently reached down to remove his hand from his penis to cup it gently in his own. His other hand traced across his forehead and down his cheek.

"I will never hurt you. You know that, don’t you? I just want you to know what it’s like."

The other boy closed his eyes and shook his head. When he reopened them, they were awash with tears. Unable to contain the intense emotions sweeping over him, Harry pulled Draco to him. The hug contained not sexual longing but something else, something purer. The intensity shook both of them and they released.

"I’m sorry, Harry. Please don’t…" The tears had now run down his cheeks.

"If you really don’t want me to, I won’t. But I want to." Harry persisted. Draco closed his eyes, pale skin flushed with shame and longing. Harry placed his tongue under his eyelids, to lick down his cheek, tasting salty tears, before moving up again to lick at his closed eyelids. He stopped to stare at the boy. After a moment, Draco opened is own eyes to Harry’s.

"I’m… I’m scared." The flush deepened.

Harry bent forward to place his lips to Draco’s cheek, then ear.

"O-ok."

The Gryffindor placed his weight on his elbows so he could stare in the other’s eyes.

"Are you sure?"

Draco nodded nervously.

"Positive?"

"Would you shut up before I change my mind?"

Harry was well aware that the snap was due to nerves.

"I love you." He murmured, nuzzling his cheek. The blonde nodded in reply.

Though consenting to this particular act, Harry soon realized that there were still some things Draco disallowed. His refusal be naked for Harry was realized when he tried to tenderly remove the robes. Draco pushed him back and hastily recovered himself, even pulling together the cloth at his chest, hence revealing less flesh than before.

"Are you alright?"

The boy nodded but refused to look at him.

"Look at me, hon." He wearily faced Harry, who offered him a lopsided grin he knew got him every time. The boy returned the grin before flopping his head back and sighing as Harry tenderly pulled open the folds of his robes at his crotch to reveal a very aroused penis. The blonde flinched and whimpered as Harry tenderly ran a thumb along the tip, before moving it down the foreskin. He was well aware of his own almost excruciatin throbbing hardness and could not resist his urge to stroke along it as he lowered his mouth to his lover.

Harry didn’t have much experience in such matters and was hoping he was doing it right. The fact that Draco, who had no experience before Harry (Harry wouldn’t even consider Marcus as ‘experience’) could making him quiver and shake from his own tongue, mouth and teeth, was reassuring for the boy. He slowly ran his lips down, then up the blonde’s length, causing him to whimper louder before looking up to him. Draco’s head was turned away, eyes squeezed shut. He looked torn between pleasure and shame. Harry moved his tongue in unison with his lips, as he thrust steadily into his own hand. The other stroked the boy’s inner thigh, then curved up to scratch along his buttock.

"Harry, no…"

A pale hand snatched up the hand and held it in its own. Harry looked up once more at the boy’s flushed face, the trails of tears seeping down the cheeks. He was whimpering and shaking his head from side to side with desire. The sight was intensely erotic to the point of being exhilarating. Harry sucked more eagerly on his penis, his own hand stroking furverently. The whimpers changed to straight groans. Harry closed his eyes, lost in the sounds.

He is amazing.

His stomach lurched as he came, shooting semen across the green and black sheets.

"Harry…" Draco whispered as his own semen filled his lover’s mouth. Not minding too much about the taste, Harry swallowed eagerly.

The blonde pulled him up to a sitting position to hold him in his arms, wrapping his arms around the raven-haired boy’s back, shaking . Harry trailed a finger down the tears on his face. He wanted so much to tell him how beautiful he looked, face flushed with desire, lean body trembling, usually perfect hair messed up almost as Harry's was. But he refrained. Once, he exclaimed as to his lover’s beauty while making out and it made Draco hastily push him aside, the anxiety once more returning. In that time, Harry was able to elicit that it was a ‘compliment’ Marcus liked to use when forcing particularly degrading acts.

Draco kissed his ear, slipping a few stray raven strands behind his ear.

"I love you." He whispered softly.

Harry felt his heart expand, as though it would explode in his chest. He pulled the boy more tightly to him, as if he could meld both their bodies together, creating a Harry-Draco hybrid.

Scary thought. He mused.

They held each other a long time, perfectly content in the warmth of the other’s body, in the unison beat of their hearts. Harry didn’t even know he had fallen asleep until he awoke the next morning to find the mess on the bed evaporated, his pants done up and his lover lying in his arms under the covers.
 
 

Harry sensed something was wrong before he even reached the front door. Though he barely passed Divination in all his years at Hogwarts, he suddenly knew that he would open the door to a house of suffering and pain. This was in direct contrast to what he knew of the Weasley household, usually so full of love and so much fun. But this was, this was…

He felt the urge to leave, to just race back to the Malfoy house, by foot if need be and bury himself under Draco’s bed covers like a frightened child.

 What is wrong with me?

Fred (or was it George?) opened the door.

"Harry."

Harry’s suspicions proved to be correct. The twin had lost his usual smile. In fact, his face was totally devoid of any trace of happiness whatsoever. And the usual rosiness of his cheeks was gone. Instead they looked rather pale, the freckles standing out in stark contrast. His usual sparkling eyes looked tired, outlined by dark circles.

"Ron’s in his room."

"You should have known! It was your own son!"

Harry looked to the twin expectantly as they mounted the stairs to the bedrooms. Molly Weasley’s shouting carried its usual anger when arguing with her husband but there was… something else there also, a pain evident in the shaking of her voice. Indeed, she sounded close to tears.

With Mr. Weasley, there was no doubt that he was crying.

"How can you blame me for this, Molly? How could I possibly have…"

The second twin stopped Harry as they reached the top of the stairs. He shared his brother’s unusually pasty complexion and tired eyes.

"Harry…" He seemed unusually nervous. Harry’s stomach took a strange dive. "Did you use the… potion we gave you?"

Potion? Ah… Arimenthu…

"No, I…" He blushed. "I sort of forgot-"

"We’re sorry, Harry." George interrupted. Harry felt a nervousness of his own at the sorrow in their voices. This was all too familiar for him.

"We didn’t know." Fred finished.

"Please. Get rid of it."

"We truly are sorry."

They disappeared into their room before Harry had a chance to reply.

What is going on?

He stood outside Ron’s door, hand touching the knob, not wanting to turn the handle. A part of him didn’t want to go in there. Didn’t want to discover the truth behind the family’s anguish. He had to call upon the bravery inherent in a Gryffindor champion to open the door to his best friend, sobbing on his bed.

"Ron?" He closed the door quietly behind himself.

Ron turned two swollen red eyes towards him.

"I’m a bastard, Harry. I belittled him. I told him he-"

"What’s going on, Ron?" He moved to the bed and stood over it, awkward as to how he should console his friend.

"You mean you don’t know?"

Harry shook his head.

Only he did know. He had started to put the pattern together, whispered conversations, insinuendos, the odd behaviour of the boy himself. He knelt down beside his friend’s bed, kneading and unkneading his hands in anxiety.

"Please don’t keep me in the dark." He pleaded.

The boy could barely get the words out, he was sobbing so intensely. He finally was able to form somewhat of a coherent sentence.

"It’s… it’s Percy." He wiped his eyes and looked at Harry's face. "He called a family meeting this afternoon. And I… I was teasing him, like I always do…" He put his face in his hands. Harry waited patiently. "I didn’t know, how could I…? He told us… that bastard Marcus…he raped him… in Hogwarts Library. Oh Harry. What are we going to do? I can’t handle this. I just can’t."

Harry’s stomach twisted to a painful degree. He moved back to sit on Ron’s armchair, unable to contain his own angered shaking.

TBC …