The next morning when Harry dressed, his whole body ached. They had had a marathon night. Draco seemed to want to prove something, and he proved it in Harry's arse all night long.

Draco lay in bed, his hands propped behind his head and watched Harry dress. He had a wicked smile on his face.

Harry was slightly annoyed. "Pleased, are you? You do realize I won't be able to sit down for a week?"

Draco shrugged. "That's your problem."

"I rather think it's yours, too. When I come back tonight, you won't be getting any Potter arse, I can tell you. That office is closed."

"You mean that orifice."

Harry smiled. "Yeah. That too."

"You've got another, you know. And so do I. I'm not averse to your fucking me, you know."

"I know. And I appreciate it. I prefer to be the shagee, though. I suppose tonight we can branch out to cocksucking and mutual wanking. Give my backside a chance to cool down."

"Take a bath in the Prefect's bathroom tonight. Give it a good long soak. Come a little early...so you can cum a little early." He waggled his brows.

"I thought I was the only one thinking of sex twenty-four hours a day," Harry muttered into his shirt as he buttoned it. Donning his robe, Harry turned to Draco still starkers and lying abed. "Well, it's time for me to go back to my dorm room. See you at breakfast?"

Draco yawned wide. "Yup. I'll be down in a tick."

Harry approached the bed and gazed lovingly at the long, white torso. He leaned over and gave Draco a kiss. "We'll have to slow down the pace a bit. Or we won't last till end of term."

"Gone weak on me, Potter? I thought the hero of the Wizarding world was made of sterner stuff."

"You know exactly what I'm made of. You pounded it into the mattress all night. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Ta, Harry. You're a brilliant shag."

He reddened as he grabbed the Portkey. "Uh...thanks. One...two...three!"

He was pulled back to the dorm room with a pop and his dorm mates all sat up, startled.

"Oi, Harry!" said Seamus, his hand clutching his chest. "Warn a man."

Harry looked at the smooth stone and dropped it on his bed as he began to disrobe again. He definitely needed a shower. "I really don't know how. Don't know much about Portkeys."

"Bet 'Mione could look it up for us," said Ron with a yawn.

"Hey, mate," said Dean, watching Harry waddle to the door with his towel. "Walking a bit funny this morning?"

"You would, too, if you'd just been-" Harry bit down on his words and looked back rather guiltily to his mates. "Er...I mean...."

Dean waved his hands before his face. "Whatever, Harry. No details, remember?"

"Sorry. Almost forgot where I was." He cinched his dressing gown and headed for the boys' showers.

Clean once again, he dressed and went down to breakfast with his friends. He kept an eye peeled for Draco. Relief washed over him when he spied him perched on the very end of a bench with probably barely room for one buttock. That's all the other Slytherins allowed him.

"I don't see why he can't eat with us," Harry muttered.

"Do you really think he'd be any more welcomed here?" asked Hermione, spooning sugar over her breakfast flakes.

"I guess not. But look at him. He's miserable."

"Was he miserable last night?" piped in Ginny, her eyes gleaming with meaning.

"I know, I know. Already too many special privileges." Harry fell silent. His housemates couldn't possibly understand. He barely understood their relationship himself. Why after all he and Malfoy had been to one another did it all seem to work now? Draco was so different from Harry. They neither could agree on the politics of Wizardry, nor of most other things he found in common with his housemates. Isn't that why most housemates hooked up even after school was done with?

If he and Draco set up house after Hogwarts, would it even last? The thought gave Harry a painful stab in his chest. He loved Draco. As amazing as that was. He wanted to be with him, but he had to ask himself why?

After breakfast, he followed the rest of them to Potions. The others talked on merrily but Harry kept his head down in thought. It wasn't until he was sitting in his usual spot with Snape already glaring down at him that he remembered where he was. He straightened but it was too late. Snape's lip curled up in a sneer at him.

But he didn't go for Harry even as Harry braced himself. He turned, his robes spinning out around him. He jabbed his glance at Draco. "Mr. Malfoy," said Snape, his voice oozing.

Draco wasn't prepared and he looked up with puzzlement. He was still taking things out of his book bag when Snape swirled toward him, casting a long shadow. "What's the matter, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape went on. "Didn't you have your servants prepare your place for you?"

Some of the Slytherins snickered behind their hands. Draco was as perplexed as ever. "Sir?"

"I mean, Mr. Malfoy, with so many privileges already-being Prefect and all, and having-" His head swiveled toward Harry and his black eyes roved over him. "--illicit affairs with riff raff, I would have thought the Headmaster would have supplied you with your own house elf to set up your cauldron."

Harry's hands curled into fists. He found himself clutching his wand.

"Harry," hissed Hermione. "Don't!"

Snape had to do it, didn't he? He had to be the right git everyone knew he was. He certainly had to know the situation with Draco. Maybe even his house knew. And he had to rub it in. What about Draco's safety? What about Voldemort?

Draco looked mortified. His pale face suddenly flushed a deep red.

"Since you are a Prefect, Mr. Malfoy and obviously have the marks for it, perhaps you can start us on today's lesson. Tell us, if you will, what potion do the ingredients on the board suggest to you?"

Hermione shot her hand up. Snape ignored her as usual. Hermione must be the only one who had any sort of clue as to what it might be, thought Harry, this being seventh year potions, the hardest year yet.

Draco stared at the board, but he was obviously too ruffled to even think of anything.

"We're waiting, Mr. Malfoy."

"I...I...don't know sir."

"What was that, Mr. Malfoy?"

"He said he doesn't know!"

There were gasps, but Harry held his ground. He waited with deep breaths as Snape slowly pivoted toward him. "Mr. Potter." Now that's done it, thought Harry. Go ahead. Give me detention. My first day back, my first moment in class.

"So now you speak for Mr. Malfoy as well? Isn't it enough that he drools on you, fawns on you as the others do, acts the proper Gryffindor?" The Slytherins laughed outright at that. Draco slumped in his seat. "Now you must speak for him as well. Well it's to be expected. Malfoy is obviously not right in the head or else he would find some other plaything than an obnoxious, overbearing, arrogant-"

Harry's cauldron suddenly shattered, sending shards outward until they abruptly stopped dead in mid air.

Everyone froze, staring at the suspended bits of metal. Even Snape was shocked.

"Who did that? Potter, did you shatter that cauldron? Who immobilized it?"

"I did," said Harry. "Both."

Snape's face did not slacken. He took turns between glaring at Harry and at the shards. "How did you-?" He drew himself up. "Detention, Potter. Fix that cauldron now!"

Harry waved his wand and muttered, "Reparo!" The shards collapsed into the cauldron shape again and the room fell back to normal. Except Hermione was staring at him. He tried to shake it off, but her expression was getting unnerving.

The class went on fairly normally after that, except that Snape kept getting at Draco. By the time the class was over, Malfoy looked like a train wreck. Harry wanted to talk to him but Snape made him stay after.

Everyone had gone and Snape paced back and forth before the empty classroom.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Potter?" he said without facing him and without stopping.

"The...the first bit...that was accidental magic. Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to blow it up."

"Yes. I surmised that for myself. What I can't figure out...." He stopped in front of Harry and looked down at him. "...is how you did the second bit."

"Er...stopped it from exploding, you mean?"

He leaned over Harry's desk and sneered, part of his composure returning. "Yes, Mr. Potter. That bit."

"Oh. I just...I..." But Harry didn't know. He shrugged.

"Articulate as ever, Potter. You mean you don't know?"

"Um...no sir. I just reacted."

"Without using your wand and without uttering a spell? Did you think a nonverbal?"

"No, sir. It just...happened."

"Nothing 'just happens' in the Wizarding world, Potter! Are you that thick? I want to know how you did it!"

"So would I!" he lashed out. "But I don't know. One minute you were saying the most awful things to Dra-to Malfoy and the next my cauldron was exploding...and then...it wasn't."

Snape studied him, eyes narrowing to slits. In a blink of an eye he was heading toward the door without looking back. "Come along to the headmaster, Potter. Hurry it up, now!"

Harry quickly gathered his things into his book bag and scrambled after the long-limbed professor. Snape said nothing to him as he strode through the corridors and up the stairs. Harry glanced back over his shoulder. He was missing Charms. He hoped this would be worth it.

Once Dumbledore allowed them in, Harry was directed to stand beside the desk while Snape proceeded to explain in detail what happened in class, paying particular attention to paint Harry in a disagreeable light.

Git, he thought, but looking at Dumbledore's sparkling eyes, he saw that the headmaster saw through Snape's tactics.

"Harry," he said, interrupting Snape. The potions master looked none too happy about that. "You say you don't recall how you stopped the cauldron's explosion?"

"No, sir. I've never done anything like that before."

"Hmm. And you performed this accidental magic out of anger-"

"Professor Snape...wasn't being fair to Draco. He was-"

"Now, Harry. We mustn't quibble about how Professor Snape runs his class."

Snape straightened at that, clasping his hands behind his back triumphantly, but Harry detected the merest of winks from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sat in thought for a time. He eyed Snape before he raised his chin and said, "Thank you, Professor. I have it well in hand now. I will keep Harry for a bit longer. It seems he will miss his Charms class."

Snape's triumphant expression fell and his dark eyes darted murderously toward Harry.

Harry frowned at him. What did I do this time?

But Snape had already turned with that flourish he was so fond of and the headmaster's door snicked closed behind him.

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and offered him a bowl. "Raspberry sweet?"

Harry wasn't hungry but he took a few anyway. "Sir--?"

"Harry, do you recall my telling you about your greatest gift, the gift that Voldemort doesn't understand?"

"Um...yes, sir. My greatest gift-you said-is love."

"Not just 'love' in an abstract sense, Harry. But your ability to love. And inspire it in others. Draco, for instance."

Harry blushed. Why did he have to keep bringing that up?

"I think I know how you were able to perform what you did today." Harry touched the raspberry sweet to his tongue and stopped, listening. "It was because of love, Harry. Your love of Draco. You have a fierce need to protect him. One doesn't have to be a Legilimins to see that. The love flows through you, through your magic. I expect we will see more of that."

"We will?" Harry felt a sinking feeling. Wasn't it bad enough that everyone knew Harry's business? Did he have to wear it on his sleeve or wave a magical banner?

"At any rate, I am glad you are here. There are some things I think it time you learn about."

Harry quickly swallowed the sweet and tucked the others away in his pocket. He scooted to the edge of his seat. "Sir. Is this about Voldemort?"

"Yes, Harry, it is." Dumbledore wore a faraway expression. "What I am about to tell you must be in the strictest confidence. Which means I fully expect you to share it with Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. And I suppose with Mr. Malfoy as well."

Harry swallowed. His mouth had gone dry of a sudden. He'd never heard much about Voldemort except what most other witches and wizards were willing to tell him. But he had a feeling that Dumbledore was about to do them one better.

The old wizard began to talk, his eyes taking in a serious tone. He watched Harry carefully as he explained. He mentioned the word Horcrux and launched into a detailed explanation, talking about Voldemort's childhood, disturbing episodes from that past and asking Harry from time to time if he understood. Harry nodded, listening, his mind racing. Voldemort grew up like he did, unloved, an orphan, but instead of making the best of it, he turned it inward into nasty acts of evil. At one time Harry thought that most people were redeemable-except for Snape, Bellatrix LeStrange, and Lucius Malfoy-but Voldemort seemed far worse than them.

Dumbledore went on to say that they had found and destroyed all but two of the Horcruxes.

"Sir," Harry ventured, "are you saying that he has to murder to make a Horcrux?" He felt distinctly uncomfortable now that he knew about Tom Riddle's diary. He had touched it, wrote in it, been sorry to see it missing. And all this time it possessed a bit of Voldemort's evil soul. He wondered now who had been murdered to make it.

"Yes, Harry. Because murder is so vile, it already rends the soul. The spells and the Horcrux receptacle merely allow it to truly separate."

"And he did it to himself seven times? That's...horrible!"

Dumbledore's smile was not a pleased one. "Yes. Killing is bad enough. It leaves a scar, but it is not irreparable, especially if the killing was regretful."

Harry studied Dumbledore's face and the faraway glint in his eye. He remembered the Chocolate Frog card of Dumbledore and how it said he defeated the Dark wizard Grindlewald. Harry hadn't thought about it much, but he supposed 'defeated' was a nice way of saying 'killed'.

Harry was in the same boat, of course. He had to kill Voldemort or Voldemort would kill him. Neither can live while the other survives.

There were two Horcruxes left and one of them was supposed to be Nagini. But what was the last? Dumbledore didn't know. And if he didn't, then how was Harry to find it?

Harry suddenly noticed that Dumbledore had stopped talking a while ago. He looked up at the old wizard who was smiling kindly at him. "Do you have any questions, Harry?"

"No. Only...Professor. When the time comes, how am I really to...k-kill Voldemort? He's so much faster and stronger than I am. I just don't-"

"Harry. How did you feel the first time you played Quidditch?"

"That's hardly the same, sir."

"Just tell me."

Harry sighed, a little petulantly, he realized, and tried to straighten up. "I was terrified. I hadn't been flying all that long and I wasn't really sure how the play went and if I'd make a fool of myself. But it wasn't life or death either."

"You certainly could have fallen from your broom. Indeed, Voldemort tried to do just that." Harry remembered poor Professor Quirrell. "You could have been hit by a bludger," Dumbledore went on. "There were any number of ways you could have met your doom. Why did you do it, then?"

"I...wanted to. I needed to. I was never part of anything before. Never wanted." Saying it out loud made Harry feel funny inside. But it was also about proving himself, to others and to himself, that he wasn't useless and stupid like the Dursleys told him he was growing up. This opened a bud of understanding inside of him. So maybe he had what it took. Just like the Tri-wizard Tournament, he had found his strengths. And much of it lay in his friendships. And love.

"I see, sir," he said quietly. He rose. "Are we done here? I've got to go to class."

"Yes, Harry."

"And I won't tell anyone. Only Hermione and Ron. And Draco." He turned to go and felt he should add one more thing. "And sir...thank you for putting me in with him." He knew he was blushing furiously but he had to say it. "You don't know what it means to me. To be loved."

Dumbledore smiled contentedly. "I'm glad, Harry."

He nodded to the headmaster and then left.

* * *

He was just in time for Defense but when he roared up the stairs and turned the corner, everyone was standing outside the closed door reading a note tacked to it.

"What's going on?" he asked, trying to make his way forward to read it.

"Defense is postponed," said Seamus. He was smiling from ear to ear. "Looks like we got a free period, mates!"

Everyone cheered and retreated back the way they had come. Everyone except Hermione, Ron, and Draco who hung back the farthest, staring wistfully at the retreating Slytherins.

Harry stepped up to the door and read:

"Defense Against the Dark Arts is being temporarily postponed until further notice. Have a nice day!

Headmaster Dumbledore."

"So why is it canceled?" asked Harry. Defense was his favorite class.

"Didn't you notice?" Hermione asked them. "I didn't see any new teachers at the feast. We usually get a new Defense teacher every year. Maybe Dumbledore couldn't find one."

"Maybe he's just late getting here," offered Ron.

"This is terrible," lamented Hermione. "Well, I suggest we use this time to go to the library and bone up on our Defense."

"Oh right, Hermione," said Ron cheerfully. "Let's use this free hour to go to the library." But his smile soon faded when he could see she was serious.

"Ronald Weasley, I'm certain you can put this time to good use. You aren't getting the best of marks in Defense."

"Yes, I am! It's one of the few I'm not rubbish at. And I'm not going to the library."

"Lover's spat?" drawled Draco from the place he was leaning against the wall. "I don't know, Weaselby. I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss the lady. It's not everyone who can put up with that ginger hair."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron squirmed. He was obviously debating whether to be loyal to his girlfriend or take the reprieve given to him. To break the stalemate, he looked to Harry. "Harry, do you want to go to the library?" His brows were so high up his forehead they almost disappeared into his hairline.

"Not really. But I do have some things to tell you. I talked to Dumbledore."

Hermione and Ron got closer. "Really, Harry?" asked Hermione. "What did he say?"

Harry looked around. "Not here. We need some place private." He looked at Draco across the corridor. "Can we use your room?"

Draco lurched away from the wall. "My room? NO!"

"Look, Draco, it's private and triple warded. We need a place like that to discuss this."

"But Harry." He strode up to Harry and got close, close enough for Harry to feel his body heat, to smell him, and to realize he hadn't touched the man for two hours. "That's our room," he whispered.

He couldn't resist stroking Draco's arm. "I know. But we really need the privacy. Please, Draco."

Draco frowned and pulled away from Harry. "All right! So much for a love nest."

"Gawd, Malfoy!" chuffed Ron. "Did you have to say?"

"Button it, Weasley. Just 'cause you're not getting any-"

Hermione blushed furiously, ducked her head down, and followed after Draco.

Harry loved the man but it didn't mean he didn't want to pop him one now and again.

They went to the fifth floor and looked around, making certain no one was in the corridor. They all ducked under the tapestry and Draco whispered, "Snickersnee."

A door appeared and Draco opened it. The others followed and stopped in the doorway. "Blimey, Malfoy," said Ron looking around. The large fourposter, the desk, the lounge area with its squashy chairs and fireplace. "Isn't this a little too posh for the likes of you?"

"Probably like a palace to you, Weasel. This is more like my closet at home. My bedroom is much larger."

Ron scowled at him. Hermione moved quickly into the room and got comfortable on one of the chairs.

"Make yourself at home, Granger," said Draco with a sneer. "Don't forget to put your feet up."

"Give it a rest, Draco," hissed Harry out of the side of his mouth.

Ron made his way to a chair and gingerly sat. Harry took the settee and patted the seat beside him for Draco.

For a moment, the Slytherin hesitated. Sullenly, he dragged himself to the settee and sat just out of reach of Harry.

His Gryffindor friends looked at him expectantly, while Draco crushed his folded arms over his chest and deliberately stared into the fire. Harry launched into everything that Dumbledore said, and at the end of it, Draco was scooted right up against Harry, holding his leg.

"You mean that diary-" Draco swallowed. "My father showed it to me once. I got to hold it. I mean..." He swallowed again. "I thought it was great...once. Not now, of course." He looked away from Harry guiltily, until Harry grabbed his chin and turned his face toward him.

"I know you don't want to see any harm come to me now."

"No, I don't!" he whispered.

Hermione cleared her throat and Harry let his chin go. "These Horcruxes. Dumbledore said he's gotten most of them. All but the last two."

"And one is that great dirty snake," said Ron with a shiver.

"And the last one-beside the one in Voldemort himself-is still to be found," said Harry.

"I wonder what it could be?" said Hermione in thought.

"Dumbledore said he likes trophies from the Hogwarts founders."

"Gryffindor's sword?" said Ron.

"No, Dumbledore said it wasn't. There were two things from Slytherin and one from Hufflepuff," said Hermione. "So it stands to reason that maybe one is from Ravenclaw, assuming he couldn't get anything from Gryffindor."

"Which is why he used two things from Slytherin," said Harry. "Also for the fact that he was the heir of Slytherin."

"Yes," she agreed. "Well, we'll have to research Ravenclaw and see what might be out there."

"Wait a minute," said Draco. He stared at all of them. "Do you hear yourselves? This is not a shopping spree. When you find this thing Harry's got to go kill the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Draco," said Harry quietly. "I'm well aware of that. I've been living with this thing too long. I'm ready to be done with it."

"But...Harry. Shouldn't you...I mean, shouldn't Dumbledore at the very least be teaching you...things?"

"Things? What kind of things?"

"Bloody hell, Harry! Dark magic, all right! A lovely bat bogie hex just won't do it, you know! You have to learn Dark things to defeat a Dark wizard."

"Dumbledore seems to think that all I need is love."

"That's mental!"

Hermione shook her head slowly. "I hate to admit this, Harry, but I think Draco's right."

"What?" cried Ron.

"Look," she said, leaning toward the redhead. "He's got to fight fire with fire."

"I don't know, Hermione," said Harry, squirming. "He seemed pretty confident about the love thing."

"You could make a love potion," said Ron. "Make him fall in love with you."

Harry screwed up his face. "Eww, Ron."

Ron sat back sheepishly. "Just an idea."

"It's not a bad one," said Hermione. "Oh, not about him falling in love with Harry. That's rather sickening, actually. But something similar. Something where he cannot find the will to kill you."

"And how can I do that?"

"Maybe we could get Snape-"

Harry shook his head. "He's still spying. They might Legilimize him and he'd give the game away."

"I could do it."

They all turned to Draco. He raised a brow. "I'm good at potions. I could do it. Find me the potion, Granger, and I can do it here."

"That's an idea. But Malfoy...Draco...I won't have time. I'll be researching Ravenclaw. You'll have to find one yourself. Except all the really good potions books are probably in Snape's dungeon."

"That's not a problem," said Draco, sitting back. "I'll just steal them."

They stared at him again, six sets of Gryffindor eyes. "What?" he said. "Don't you want me to find the potion?"

They looked at one another and finally shrugged. Gryffindor methods and Slytherin methods. Whatever worked, thought Harry.

* * *

The first day back wasn't so bad, but it was the night to come that got Harry truly excited. This time he wore his pajamas and dressing gown to Portkey over. Draco was waiting for him. He slowly stripped Harry of everything and slid his arm around him, escorting him naked to the bed. It was a good-sized fourposter, not like the ones in the dorm room. Draco released Harry and dived onto the bed. Harry laughed and followed suit, rolling into Draco's arms and falling into a kiss. How he loved kissing Draco. His lips were always warm and soft. And they loved to tease Harry's lips before they opened and slipped a tongue into his mouth. Harry sucked on Draco's tongue, loving the feel of it and then let Draco explore his mouth. It was a nice long kiss and Harry was breathless when Draco finally pulled away. "Are you still sore, Harry?"

He really wanted Draco to shag him but he knew it would be too painful. He nodded regretfully.

"That's all right. I have an idea. Top to tail, my man!"

Harry looked at him, uncertain of his meaning, when Draco said, "Put your head down there, Harry."

"Near your feet?"

"Not my feet, love. Can't you think of someplace better to put your face?"

Oh. Harry complied and was soon lying on his side staring at Draco's hard dick, while Draco did the same for Harry. "I believe we discussed a little mutual cocksucking last night," said Draco. And suddenly, Harry felt lips surrounding his cock.

Dazed for a moment, he recovered enough to want Draco to experience the same. He leaned forward and drew his tongue up the hard shaft in front of him. Draco made a muffled moan, his mouth being busy at the moment. Harry didn't know what to concentrate on more; Draco's lapping tongue and sucking lips, or the musky smell and taste of the cock on his own mouth.

Harry licked and swirled his tongue over Draco's glans before swallowing all of it. He took as much of it into his mouth as he could, nudging the head to the back of his throat. He put all his suction into it and Draco dropped Harry's penis from his mouth with a gasp. "Oh, Potter! You're amazing!"

He withdrew from Draco and looked up the pale body. "Don't give up now," he panted to Draco. What Draco had been doing was pretty spectacular too. Draco smiled wickedly, licked his lips to moisten then all around, and took Harry's prick in his mouth again.

So it's that way, is it? Harry swallowed Draco's cock and they both began to furiously suck, tongues dancing over the hard flesh while keeping it deep in their mouths. It was a contest now and Harry knew he wasn't going to last much longer. But Draco was beginning to pump into Harry's face. Harry loved that feeling, submitting so utterly to his lover. Draco was making a keening sound and he suddenly stiffened and let loose his release into Harry's mouth. Harry gulped it down, continuing to suck and slurp. Draco thrust into him but the thrusts were slowing, just as his own sucking had slowed. But he seemed to remember what else he was supposed to be doing and he resumed licking at Harry and fiercely sucking. Harry felt the aching pleasure rise up through his balls and he came with a hoarse grunt, his mouth still clamped around Draco's shrinking dick.

Draco sucked and sucked, until the feeling was too much for Harry and his sensitive member. Draco released Harry and crawled up toward him, his mouth strangely configured even though he was smiling. He lay breast to breast with Harry and leaned forward to kiss him. Suddenly Harry's mouth was flooded with his own cum and both he and Draco jousted tongues to slurp it up. They kissed and kissed, even when all the cum was gone, until Harry, too breathless, his heart still beating madly, had to lie back.

"God, Draco!" He lay flat on the bed, staring up at the canopy above. "That was bloody marvelous."

Draco chuckled. "I thought you'd like that."

"Where do you learn these things?"

"Remember those wizard wanking mags? I'm a subscriber."

"Well, you'll have to share, won't you?"

Draco lay beside Harry, both their heads at the foot of the bed. He reached out and stroked Harry's sweaty hip. "I love sex with you, Harry. You're so open to new things."

"You know so much." He just breathed for a while before his thoughts from earlier started intruding. He rolled over to face the Slytherin again. His finger traced a clavicle. It was dotted with perspiration. "Draco, I've been wondering. Why do you love me?"

"What? What kind of question is that?"

"Well...I was just thinking. I love shagging with you. And I love you. But I wonder really what we have in common. Besides our being gay. I mean...that's not all there is to it, is there? Could it have been anyone as long as they were gay?"

Draco turned toward him and glared. "No. It could not have been anyone. If it had been Longbottom I would have hightailed it in the other direction. I never would have considered him."

"But why me? We don't really have anything in common. Our whole life's philosophies are completely opposed to the other's. So what is it?"

"Who cares? Why do you want to analyze everything to death? Why can't you just be happy with what we have?"

"But I don't know what we have. And I wonder if it will sustain us when we leave school."

"So that's what this is about. Honestly, Potter. You are a case, aren't you?" Draco sighed heavily and turned over onto his stomach, propping himself on his elbows. Harry did the same, even though it meant rubbing his sensitive dick on the duvet. "Harry," Draco began. "Perhaps you may have noticed how obsessed we've been with one another, well before we did that quill pal thing."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I guess so."

"I'd one-up you and you'd one-up me. Didn't you think that was a bit-"

"Childish?"

"Odd."

"Both, maybe."

Draco agreed with a half shrug. "So we've been following the other around or perhaps one could say 'dancing' around the other for years. We seem to have a need for one another. Both physical and mental."

"It sounds more physical than mental."

"If we had to stop shagging today, would you ever want to see me again?"

Harry looked long and hard at Draco's face, that pointed face he used to hate so much. Those cold grey eyes, those light brows, that silky blond hair. The very idea of never seeing Draco again broke his heart. "Yes, I would. I need to."

"Me, too," he said softly. "You're a hero, Harry. You're a champion, a conqueror. You're powerful, and I'm not ashamed to say that this attracts me. And I like the way you think about things and can express yourself so simply."

"Are you kidding? I stutter it out all the time."

"No, you don't. And even if you do, the meaning is clear. You're gentle and sweet. I never...well, let's just say it isn't something I was used to, but dearly wanted to be. And...I like you. It makes me want to learn to like the same things you do. Isn't that basis enough for a relationship?"

Harry smiled in spite of himself. "I guess so."

"So isn't there anything about me that you like?"

Harry thought deeply. "Well, you just go ahead and rush forward with things, a little like I do, I guess. And you pick things up rather well because you're always listening while others are talking. Um...you seem really confident most of the time. That's appealing. And you really want to be loved. I can tell."

Draco blushed. He lowered his eyes and Harry gazed at the light lashes feathering his cheek.

"And...you'd change for me, wouldn't you? That takes a lot of bravery, Draco."

Draco looked up at that. "For you, Harry," he whispered. He leaned in and lightly touched his lips to Harry's.

Harry suddenly felt much better about it. "Maybe I was analyzing it to death, like you said."

Draco took Harry's hand and intertwined their fingers. "That's okay. As long as you came to the right conclusion. So are we lovers again?"

"Never stopped." Harry squeezed Draco's hand in his.

Draco gazed at Harry's face and slowly smiled. "If it's any comfort to you, I sometimes still can't believe we're together like this, even after two years."

"It does strike me at the odd time. But I don't want to give you up."

"I won't let you."

"Good."

Draco curled his arm around Harry and hugged him close, planting a kiss to his neck. They lay that way, cuddled together at the wrong end of the bed for most of the night.

But when Harry slept, he dreamed. And his dreams were of him and Draco and horrific laughter and bright green light.


On to Part Three
"Prisoner"

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"Term of Endearment"

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