LIGHT OF HEAVEN Draeconin

Summary: Magic goes awry after an unusual bonding. Dragons get involved, and the boys learn another way of life, another kind of magic outside Hogwarts.

Disclaimer: If you don't recognize it, it's mine. Everything else belongs to the copyright holders. As has been said by many, "There is nothing new under the sun." Maybe not, but I hope you like what I've done with it.

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Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy sat bolt upright in his bed. Sweat, like dew, lay lightly on his milk-white skin, and had slightly dampened his pillow and the fine linen sheets beneath him. His platinum-blond hair was in disarray, and stuck wildly up from his scalp in all directions, unlike the normal, slicked-back look his mother insisted upon. Breathing heavily, blue eyes wide and staring, his thoughts and emotions were, to say the least, chaotic as he tried to recall the dream that had him in this condition. Slowly, it came back to him.

He had walked into the school common room, only to find only Harry Potter there. As usual, he had started taunting Harry; about his fame, his friends, his standing in the community... But this time Harry hadn't become angry. This time, Harry just gave him a gentle smile, walked over to him, gently but firmly took his face in his hands, and had given him the hottest, steamiest kiss he had ever dreamed about from anyone! Panic and shock had awakened him. But what did it mean? He couldn't be wanting a kiss from a boy; could he? Ridiculous! And especially not from that blasted Harry Potter!

But as he tried to rationalize it all away, and calmed down somewhat, he became aware of something else. His young manhood was in a throbbing state of arousal. As disturbing as that was, he couldn't help himself; he was so hard it hurt. He needed release. He hooked his silk pyjama bottoms down around his knees, then took hold of himself and started to gently stroke it, thinking of the women in the wizard-picture porn book Blaise Zabini had given him merely for helping him cheat on a potions test. He had only done it because he was curious about the female body, and why so many boys and men liked women so much. He had since looked through that book a few times, satisfying that curiosity.

The women were beautiful, of course, but try as he might, they didn't do anything more for him than looking at any other beautiful piece of art. It didn't help him this time, either. Somehow women seemed - incomplete? Yes, that felt like the right word. That - region - between a woman's legs was disquieting, and somewhat repulsive; not to mention all that fat on the chest. Mind you, the fat on Goyles chest was far more distasteful, but distasteful was distasteful. Degree didn't matter that much. In fact, just thinking about it was preventing him from his release. So he tried to think of anyone - anything - else that might help him over the top; girls in the school, his own tumescent manhood, Harry Potter - 'NO!! NOT Harry Potter! Not...' But the image of Harry Potter kept intruding, no matter how often or how violently he banished that picture from his mind. He had never been attracted to boys! But as he tried not to think about it, he realized that he really didn't find all boys attractive, just ones that reminded him of Har... Potter - Potter being the pinnacle, of course. 'What am I thinking?!? Harry Potter is not attractive: well, maybe...'

Eventually his thoughts came to a standstill while trying to get around a mental roadblock that he refused, at first, to acknowledge. Then, becoming intrigued with the workings of his own mind, he decided to continue his wank with Potter in mind - just to see if he could pinpoint why he was obsessing over the dark-haired Gryffindor. He remembered every angle of Potter's face and body that he'd ever seen, and then began reliving that amazing dream kiss. To his own amazement and trepidation, he found himself getting more and more aroused, and finally, his back arching, only his head, shoulders and heels in touch with his mattress, Draco had the hardest orgasm yet of his life.

After cleaning himself up, he lay back down in his bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling slightly ashamed of himself. For the first time in his fifteen years, he began to doubt himself. His self-image was completely shattered. "I'm not a... a faggot! Am I?" He whispered to himself. Yet he could no longer deny the emotions and desires that had overtaken his body and mind - not for all boys; just one special one. Feeling lost, confused, and totally alone, Draco, hating himself for his weakness, cried himself to sleep.

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Harry woke, a sensuous smile on his lips. Such sweet dreams! Then his smile faded as he recalled the details. He'd been in the common room talking to Ron and Hermione, while other students milled about doing pretty much the same things they always did; then they'd all faded away, and the sneering voice of Draco Malfoy had filled his ears with the same old, tired phrases. He had turned towards the boy, looked into his eyes, and somehow knew that all that hatefulness was just a cover-up for Draco's insecurities and true feelings for him. They were feelings that Harry kept buried deep inside himself, as well, and had sublimated in anger long ago when it appeared that Draco had apparently decided to become his enemy. But now, seeing beneath that facade, those feelings had come flooding back. He had smiled and walked calmly over to the smaller boy. As he did, he saw fear, apprehension and a severe case of nerves appear in Draco's eyes, to be replaced with shock, love, acceptance and desire when Harry's lips covered his.

Harry had recognized that he wasn't attracted to girls a couple of years ago. But boys didn't seem to do it for him, either. But there was one boy who caught his attention all the time, and he hated it. The beautiful platinum blond. He'd done everything in his power to deny the attraction, sublimating those feelings with competitiveness and "hatred", and had even pursued females as avidly as he could make himself do so. But it hadn't worked. He rather liked the tactile sensations, but it never went any deeper than that, and he inevitably found himself pretending it was Draco. Then, in rejecting his errant thoughts, grew colder towards the person he was with.

Draco, now... But his snide attitude! And Harry couldn't abide bigotry of any kind, having grown up with having it directed at himself. He knew what it felt like - and he knew that nobody deserved to be judged on anything other than their own individual merits.

Occasionally other boys could get his imagination going like no girl could, but only mildly. Only one boy put a fire in his heart, made his stomach clench, and made his clothing at the crotch become painfully tight. That had bothered him since their first meeting in Madam Malkin's. Why was he so attracted to such a prat?! And the son of one of his worst enemies at that! Could the dream be telling the truth? Could all that nastiness just be a cover-up? Or was it just wishful thinking?

All this brooding had caused his morning erection to go down, and he suddenly needed to urinate. He jumped out of bed, grabbed some fresh clothes, a towel and his toiletries, and headed first for the loo, then the showers. Completing his morning ablutions, he made his way back to the dorm rooms and his own space to finish dressing.

Looking in his mirror, he took stock of himself. He was just a fortnight away from his sixteenth birthday, five foot, six inches tall, broad shoulders for his age, and, at 135 lbs, he was slender, but not skinny. Due to the work the Dursley's made him do over the summers and his Quidditch practice, he was a lot stronger than he looked. He wasn't overly muscled, but nicely defined, he decided. A gently defined six-pack, tight abdomen; and a little better than average male package, judging from what he'd seen in the showers.

He didn't like to draw attention to himself, though, so he deliberately left his hair messy so it would cover his scarred forehead. He'd even learned a charm to keep it that way most of the time, so the few times that Hermione or other good-willed female acquaintances fussed over his appearance, it wouldn't reveal that it could, in fact, be tamed. Continuing to dress in Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs while at Hogwarts aided that as well, although he was wealthy enough to buy a good wardrobe if he wanted to; or several for that matter. He didn't, because his aunt and uncle would have become suspicious. They never gave him any money, and they'd want to know how he'd been able to afford clothes. If they found out, they would at least try to force him to hand over his resources. The few times he'd actually needed to buy an article or two of clothing, he'd fobbed them off to the Dursley's as being charity gifts from his friends at Hogwarts.

As for his glasses... Well, he didn't need them any more. The lenses were just plain glass while he wore them, but had an enchantment on them to distort anyone else' vision. After all, it wouldn't do to not be able to see an enemy if he lost them again. He'd already learned that lesson the hard way, so he'd secretly brewed a potion to correct his vision. To his surprise, he had found he was actually pretty good at potions, so long as Snape wasn't there to rattle him and peer over his shoulder. But they did give him an emotional shield to hide behind, almost like a security blanket.

As Harry entered the dining area, he glanced at where Draco usually sat, and was surprised to catch the boy staring at him with a kind of strange, wistful look in his eyes. As soon as Draco realized that Harry was looking, however, he blushed and looked away - his usual brash mannerisms strangely lacking for a moment. Then Draco's back straightened, his usual supercilious sneer took over, and he'd turned and made some comment to his tablemates, who started laughing - well, snickering, anyway.

'Strange...' thought Harry, feeling a little heat in his own face, as well as some irrational resentment. After all, Malfoy's nastiness was a daily occurrence.

He continued to the Gryffindor tables, where Ron and Hermione had saved a seat for him. He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he didn't notice the curious glances they shot at him.

"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Ron. "Only, you seem to be a bit out of it."

"Hm? Yes, I'm fine, Ron. Just a little preoccupied, that's all."

"You sure? We can talk later, if you like, where it's more private."

"No, that's alright, Ron. It's just something I have to work out on my own." Knowing of the centuries-old Weasley - Malfoy feud, Harry was sure that Ron would never understand.

"Well, if you're sure? You know you can talk to me anytime. And Hermione, of course." he quickly added, with a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he looked with puppy-dog eyes at the girl in question. Harry didn't notice.

"Yes, anytime, Harry." Hermione agreed.

"Thank you - both." Harry replied, still looking lost in his own thoughts. "Maybe I'll take you up on that sometime."

Harry had been sneaking covert, shy glances at the Slytherin tables, a fact that went completely over Ron's head, but didn't escape Hermione's attention. She kept a subtle watch on Harry for the rest of the meal before finally tracking down who he was looking at. 'Draco Malfoy?' she thought. 'But Harry doesn't look angry, just thoughtful and - puzzled? It surely doesn't look like there's any anger there... Oh, gods! Malfoy is peeking at Harry, too! But it doesn't look like either wants the other to see that they're looking. But they hate each other! What is going on?'

Ron noticed her distraction, and, knowing Hermione, figured she was chasing down the mystery of Harry's behavior, so just gently took her hand under the table and let her think.

Hermione noticed him taking her hand, gave his a gentle squeeze, gave him a quick smile, then went back to trying to puzzle things out. Again, Harry failed to notice.

Harry didn't want to be obvious about his interest in Draco, so when he was through eating, he decided to leave without waiting to see what Draco was going to do. He told his friends he'd see them later in class, then got up and left. Intent on digging up the root of Harry's behavior, Ron and Hermione scrambled in order to be able to follow him out.

As they were leaving the dining hall, Hermione excused herself from Ron, whispering that it might be easier for Harry to open up if she was the only one talking to him. Ron looked stubborn for a moment, but when he saw the determined look in Hermione's eyes, he gave up and agreed. Hermione took a quick look around to see if anyone was close, then again hurried to catch up to Harry. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him into a quiet corner. "Harry! Can I ask you a question?"

Harry had been surprised by the move, but he guessed he shouldn't have been. "Sure, Hermione. What?"

"What's going on between you and Malfoy? I mean, I saw you looking at him an awful lot, and he was looking at you, too, when you weren't looking. And it wasn't your usual glaring or his usual sneering, either!"

"He was? And he wasn't..." Harry blurted with a surprised and pleased expression on his face. Then he panicked. "But I wasn't... I mean - it doesn't matter... I mean, nothing's going on!" Harry was flustered and blushing furiously, and getting angry about being embarrassed. He was oddly pleased that Draco had been looking at him, too, and that it hadn't been in an angry way. Still, Hermione shouldn't be poking her nose into his business. That brought him up short. What business? There wasn't - there couldn't - be anything between he and Draco. Right? Right! But he didn't quite believe it. Uneasy, he decided to think about it later. "Just leave me alone, 'Mione." Harry stalked off to Potions class, but as he calmed down, he realized that he did need to talk to someone, and Hermione would keep his confidences. He was pretty sure of that. He made up his mind to try to set up a one-on-one with her sometime later that day. As it happened, he didn't have a chance to.

Hermione was a bit set back by Harry's reaction and behavior, but somehow it all fit in. As she watched him walk off, a strange thought entered her mind. 'Harry couldn't be - interested - in Draco, could he?' She'd seen a lot of classmates, girls and boys, with crushes - she'd even had a couple herself, although this thing with Ron felt a lot deeper than any crush; and Harry certainly had some of the symptoms of a cruch. But Harry had always shown an interest in girls - hadn't he? Come to think of it, though, those few relationships hadn't lasted long. They'd ended just as the girl was getting serious. But Harry didn't seem the 'love them and leave them' type. Not at all. He was always concerned about the welfare of others. But how could hate turn to - what? Love? Infatuation? Now even more deeply intrigued in this mystery, she continued on to class.

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Professor Snape was not in a good mood - at all. Dumbledore had requested that he scrap his carefully crafted lesson plans and concentrate on areas that would assist in the seemingly inevitable war between Light and Dark wizardry. He'd do it, but his mood meant that others were going to feel the bite of his tongue.

He swept into his classroom, his smouldering gaze taking in the suddenly aborted conversations, and the students bodies straightening in their chairs to give him their attention. Except for one. Harry Potter was rooting in his book bag, looking for something.

"Mr. Potter!" As the boy jerked upright, facing him, he continued. "Five points from Gryffindor for not paying attention in class!"

"I was just getting my books and supplies out for class, sir!" Harry replied. Harry knew better than to try to remonstrate with Snape, but this patent unfairness had torn the words from his lips.

"And another five for questioning my judgement!" Snape snapped, pleased to have made the Gryffindor react. He really didn't like teaching children; it took away from valuable potions research time. He only did it as a Wizard's Debt to Dumbledore - a side-effect of the last magic war, wherein Dumbledore saved his life too often. He didn't like to think about it, but was honour-bound.

At this latest blow to the Gryffindor points list, most of the Slytherins in the room started snickering, and a few of Harry's Gryfindor housemates were glowering; some at Harry, some at Professor Snape. Harry lowered his head so that his hair would at least partially hide his angry blush. Oddly enough, Draco hadn't joined in his Housemates' taunting laughter.

Severus Snape knew he was being unfair, but at that moment he didn't really care. The thoughts and emotions behind his attitude towards Harry Potter were a bit complicated. He'd made a terrible misjudgement at their first meeting in thinking that the boy had grown up knowing his history and fame, and had concluded that Harry would be insufferably full of himself. So, he'd determined to take it upon himself to take "The Famous Harry Potter" down a notch. Teach him some humility - show him that not everyone was going to cater to him. It wasn't until weeks later that he'd found out the truth - too late to correct things while still keeping his pride and dignity intact. So now his pride, dignity and guilt had him looking for constant justifications for his behavior, making him keep acting the same way towards the boy - and even harsher. Of course, he also had to keep his distance for other, covert, reasons as well. He couldn't afford to like the boy.

He addressed the entire class. "We'll be deviating from the material assigned." At that, there were many stares of disbelief and murmurs of protest, although no-one dared say anything out loud. "We'll be addressing the matter of magical compatibility. As most of you should know, each magic user has a certain power level that is innate. This level does not become a constant until adulthood, but in most cases a child's magical potential is commensurate with those of his or her peers. Some special circumstances can enhance those power levels, however. One of those is in finding a Power Partner. Mr. Potter, tell the class what a Power Partner is!"

Harry had the urge to sink deeper into his seat at the question, never having heard of such a thing. "I'm afraid I don't know, Professor," he replied.

"Imagine. A Gryffindor afraid." Snape japed. Harry found his temper rising, as most of the Slytherins again erupted into snickers at his expense. "One would think that someone of your reputation would attempt to learn as much as possible, Mr. Potter." Snape sneered. Harry's angry blush was his only response. Snape looked around the rest of the classroom at the sparse number of hands in the air. He noted that while Draco Malfoy didn't have his hand up, he was, himself, sneering at Potter. Irrationally irritated by this, he drawled "Mr. Malfoy? By your expression, I take it you know the answer?"

Draco casually looked up at his teacher and replied "A Power Partner is someone whose magical abilities enhance and complement your own. The enhancement is made more powerful if the partners have an emotional involvement, but it is not necessary."

"Quite right, Mr. Malfoy. Five points for Slytherin. Although one can have only one Power Partner at a time, there can be any number of people that one could find compatible, to one degree or another. That does not mean that everyone has a Power Partner, or that if they do, they would be able to find or recognize him or her. To that end, today's lesson will be learning, then brewing, a potion that will, if one is within the range of the spell, allow you to find a Power Partner."

Hermione spoke up "Professor, how does one know when they have found their Power Partner?"

"When you drink the potion, you will develop a blue glow around yourself, and feel yourself drawn towards the nearest compatible person. That person's aura will develop a similar glow, at least to your vision. The brightness of the color will determine just how compatible they are." On a whim, he added " If you're very lucky, Miss Granger, you might see golden highlights as well."

"Sir?" requesting, in that one word, more information.

"Compatibility on an emotional level as well, Miss Granger."

"Oh." she replied distractedly, writing it down, and then "OH!" blushing furiously.

"I wouldn't worry if I were you, Granger" Malfoy sneered, breaking in. "I wouldn't expect a Mudblood should find such a connection."

"Stuff it, Malfoy" Harry spoke up. "Bigotry doesn't become you. I thought you were smarter than to blindly believe such ignorant prejudice."

Harry's interference served both to interrupt Hermione's defense of herself, and to cause Draco pause. Had Harry Potter given him a backhanded compliment? It stung, but... Draco recovered a bit and sneered at Harry but, even less than earlier, his heart wasn't in it. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Potter might have a point. Right. On top of his head, maybe. Still...

"If we're through with this interruption, gentlemen?" Snape broke in. He then went on to give the list of ingredients and the necessary steps to create the potion, writing them down on the chalkboard as he did so. One of those ingredients was three drops of the brewer's blood. Being a blood potion, it was considered almost of the Dark. In normal times, such a potion wouldn't have been taught at Hogwarts except to Advanced Potions students in their seventh year. The fact that it was now being taught to normal fifth-year students was not a good sign. It would take the rest of the week to make, and successful potions would be tried on Friday.

As little as Harry liked Potions class, and with Snape's caustic remark about his ignorance to spur him on, to get through the week without making a mistake, despite Snape's constant sniping. The resultant potion was an almost transparent gray, with an oil-on-water rainbow color. Neville Longbottom had again, somehow, managed to get his to blow up. Looking around, he saw several differently coloured potions, although about two thirds of the class looked to have had the same results as he, including, of course, Hermione and, unfortunately, Malfoy. Ron's had turned a canary yellow.

Professor Snape inspected each potion, disposing of those that didn't measure up, giving and taking points at random. Those students whose potions didn't measure up would have to keep trying until they succeeded, while still keeping up with the other work that would be assigned.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Snape sneered ('It's amazing how many variations a sneer can have', Harry thought. 'And by now, I must have seen them all. Fascinating, it isn't?) after he'd tested Harry's effort, "it looks as though you might have finally done something correctly." He then addressed the whole class again.

"Right. Now; those of you who have, somehow, learned something and managed to not completely foul up your potions, may now drink them and say the spell. If you feel a pull, follow it; even it's outside this classroom. The potion's range is not enough to have to leave Hogwarts grounds, so anyone doing so will have House Points removed and serve detention at the very least! Expulsion is a possibility."

The students with successful potions glanced around nervously, waiting to see who'd go first. Malfoy, seeing this, grinned maliciously at their 'weakness', grabbed his own potion, and with a bravado he really didn't feel exclaimed "Bottoms up!" drained his potion, and said the spell "le compagnon de pouvoir de d'couverte". Spurred by his rival's action, Harry was only a split second behind, and within a minute or two everyone had done the same.

Nothing seemed to happen for a while, then about 1/3 of the students developed a blue glow about them; most dimly, a couple brightly, but only three of the dimly-lit ones found their "double-P" within the classroom. A Slytherin and Gryfindor matched up, and Sean Finnegan found Neville Longbottom. Neville would still have to re-make the potion, but he wouldn't have far to go to find his partner. The others wandered out. Hermione, Harry noticed, had a middle-strength glow about her as she wandered out. Ron looked very sad and upset as Hermione left the room. Harry felt sorry for him, and wanted to go comfort him, but found it difficult to care enough to move. He frowned slightly at himself. This wasn't right. It wasn't like him at all. Then a flash of platinum blond hair caught the corner of his eye.

Distracted from other concerns, Harry looked over at Draco, but didn't see a glow developing around him, and Harry didn't seem to be developing one of his own, either. Still, he couldn't look away. Draco must have felt him looking, because he turned around. Harry's eyes caught Draco's (or was it the other way around?). He saw Draco's facial muscles work as he tried to break free, but neither could. But in the dream-like mental state Harry was in, he couldn't bring himself to care about that very much. He wondered if all this was due to the potion. He supposed it had to be. But nothing else was happening. No glow, anyway. Just as he had decided that nothing else was going to happen, something did; but it was nothing he was prepared for. He felt his feet leave the floor, just as a bright golden light surrounded him. He was acutely aware that the same seemed to be happening to Draco. It all seemed to happen in just a couple of seconds. There was a blinding flash, then a warm, comfortable darkness.

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When the potions started taking effect, Snape was pleased and surprised by how many of the students had a positive reaction, though he refused to show it. The ones who had no reaction were disappointed, of course, but that was beside the point. He watched as Sean Finnegan "found" Neville Longbottom, with one raised eyebrow - a sign of mild astonishment, due to his opinion of Longbottom. The others left the room to find where their pulls led them. No gold tints, but that was hardly surprising. That only happened about once per every 3,000 power partners. "Those of you who failed your potion, study up on it until the end of class time. You will have a chance to try again before end of semester. Mr. Mirabille, Miss Sopharr; Mr. Finnegan and Mr. Lognbottom," he said, addressing the students who had found they were PP's while in the classroom "you may adjourn to the Great Hall to explore your bond. Those who were successful but have no discernible partner in the area may have the rest of the period as free time. Quietly! " he added, as the students started whispering amongst themselves. Order restored, Snape returned to his desk.

Potter hadn't started glowing, which allowed Snape a small feeling of victory about his judgement, but he was disappointed that Malfoy, his favorite Potions student, also hadn't shown a reaction. Then it happened. Both boys floated into the air while a bright golden glow quickly grew around each. A blue-gold rope of energy emerged from the middle of each boy's chest and reached out to the other. The thick tendrils met half-way, then the light output started getting stronger. The boys slowly floated towards each other, pulled together by the energy tendrils despite Snape's attempts to break whatever was happening. Finite Incantatum didn't work, nor did any other spell-breaker he knew. Despite his apparent dislike of his students and lack of outward reaction, he was almost frantic with worry about what might be happening.

When he realized that nothing he did was going to work, he yelled at the other students to get out - NOW! Some were so fascinated with what was happening that he had to shove them towards the doors in order to break their concentration. One of those students, however, refused to obey him - of course. Ronald Weasley. The youngest male Weasley just stood there with his mouth open, staring, helpless to do anything to be of aid, but refusing to leave his friend.

When everyone else was out of the room, he looked again at what was happening. The two boys didn't look distressed in the least. In fact, despite their closed eyes, they had nearly identical expressions of pleased, even joyous, surprise on their faces. They were nearly touching, now. Snape didn't have the least idea what would happen when they did, so he quickly cast protective wards around the boys, Ronald Weasley, and himself. "Don't keep staring, Weasley! Get down and cover your eyes!" He had to yank the redhead down behind a worktable. Harry and Draco's arms wrapped around one another, their cheeks touched, and there was an explosion of light. When Snape was able to see again, both boys lay on the floor, unconscious, but still in each others arms.

Snape started snapping orders. "Mr. Weasley! If you can pull yourself together, inform Madam Pomfrey that she will shortly have patients! Then go tell the Headmaster and Professor McGonagal of events and have them meet me in the hospital wing! Move!"

Ron seemed to wake out of whatever dazed trance he'd been in, looked at Professor Snape, snapped out a "Yes, sir!," and ran off on his errands.

Snape cast Mobilicorpus on the boys, and with them in tow, quickly set off for the hospital ward, scattering those curious students who hadn't gone any further than the corridor outside the classroom. "Mr. Weasley will have a month of detention for ignoring authority and recklessly endangering himself." he muttered. "And fifty points off Gryffindor!" Feeling better, he continued on his way.

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Chapter 2

"I suppose I should have guessed something like this could happen, but I don't see how." Dumbledore mourned quietly. He had long ago bought into his own legend of being all-knowing, and all-wise.

The boys were still unconscious, but putting them in separate beds had been an impossibility, much to Poppy Pomfrey's dismay. They had thrashed about when separated, and had a tendency to fall out of bed in their attempts to get to each other. She had even tried just pushing the beds together, but that had only made it easier for them to find each other and entangle their arms and legs together in a most - unsettling - manner.

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Harry was the first to regain consciousness. It was like waking from a wonderful dream; soft, warm, happy... No hurry, no fuss; just drift up to meet the day. He became aware that he wasn't alone. Not only not alone, but very intimately entangled with someone. Curious, but not in the least alarmed (he'd question that, later), he opened his eyes. Smooth, creamy-white skin, cheeks slightly pink, lips full and warm, white-blond hair falling over delicate, closed eyelids. And those long lashes were just so... 'Wait a minute! White-blond hair? Malfoy?!?'

Shocked wide awake, and in a panic that someone might see and come to the correct conclusions, about him, anyway, Harry frantically disentangled himself from the other boy and scooted away, a myriad emotions and thoughts running through his head all at the same time; confusion, fear, wondering how and why this situation had occurred, why he accepted it so easily, and other emotions that he'd rather not even recognize existed, let alone deal with. Chaos ruled supreme. In the next second he felt an overwhelming sense of loss and emptiness that almost seemed to cross the border into pain, and found himself scrambling back towards the blonde, frantically reaching for Draco, who was, while still seemingly asleep, looking agitated and doing some reaching of his own. Harry wanted desperately to wrap himself around the blond, but forced himself to settle for grabbing Draco's slender, graceful hand, and with that contact, the sensations of loss faded, and Draco calmed down, but his own confusion intensified ten-fold. He tried gently letting go, but Draco's hand pursued his, and he didn't feel comfortable himself, so he just sat there holding the Slytherin's hand, staring, and trying to think, remember, and sort his conflicting emotions.

Okay, first was that weird dream, then the scene in the hall with Hermione, then Potions class... Potions class. Okay, that made a kind of sense. He wasn't all that good with potions, so maybe he'd made a mistake that Professor Snape hadn't caught? As much as Harry didn't like Snape, though, that didn't make sense. Professor Snape was one of the best potions masters in the wizarding world, if not the best. A bastard, but that didn't diminish his skill. But it was the only thing that made any sense at all. At the same time, he was positive he'd followed direction exactly.

But why was Malfoy here? Maybe he'd got caught in the fallout? He vaguely remembered a flash of light, so that made sense. And this strange dependence on contact with Malfoy was just a result of the miscast potions spell. That had to be it. 'You don't really believe that,' his mind said. 'Oh, shut up!'

Having successfully ignored his more sensible side, and rationalized his way into an acceptable reason for this situation, he had faith that it would soon be straightened out. Harry's attention turned back to the other boy - the other victim of his "mis-brewed" potions spell - and noticed that Malfoy, too, seemed to be waking up. His concern and feelings of guilt turned to amusement as he watched the other boy go through practically an identical version of what he'd experienced upon waking; up to, and including, the need to reestablish physical contact. He'd felt the panic a second time when Malfoy pulled away, but recovered more quickly upon regaining contact.

"Potter!" Malfoy glowered "What in the Nine Hells is going on? What's so funny? And why am I having to, I shudder to say it, touch you? What did you do to me?!"

Annoyed, Harry smirked evilly "Well, Malfoy, maybe you finally realized just how much I mean to you!"

"I greatly resent your implication, Potter. Except for feeling your windpipe crush under my hands, I haven't the faintest interest in touching you!" Draco responded, choosing to ignore Harry's smirk; an expression he'd never seen on his rival before. It was a bit unsettling.

"Which is why you're holding my hand, right?" Harry gibed. "But to be serious, I'm afraid that this time I actually may be at fault. I must have flubbed my potion. All I remember is an explosion of light, and then waking up here. I can't seem to not touch you, either." he added, scowling and blushing at the same time.

Draco yanked his hand away again upon hearing that, leapt out of bed and stood there trembling violently for a couple of seconds with the bare emotions of anger, embarrassment, confusion, and - longing? chasing each other over his face, before giving in to his need for physical contact and scrambling back over to Harry, who had exerted all his considerable willpower not to go chasing after the blonde for the needed contact.. "They better be able to fix this, Potter. I am not going to walk down the halls holding hands with you!"

"Don't think it's any picnic for me, either, Malfoy!" Harry spat out, while feeling a guilty pleasure at the contact.

A few minutes later, Madame Pomfrey walked in and noticed the boys sitting in their hospital pyjamas, glowering at each other. Ignoring their obvious emotional state, as well as the fact that they were still holding hands, she said "I see you're both awake. Good. How are you feeling?"

"How long is it going to take to get this spell broken so I can get back to my life?" Draco asked angrily, ignoring her question.

"No need to be rude, Mr. Malfoy. Your questions will be answered after breakfast, if you're up to it."

"Breakfast?" Harry asked, interrupting what would obviously have been another rude remark from Malfoy. "How long have we been out?"

"As I said, all of your questions will be answered later." Madame Pomfrey repeated. "You both know where the loo is, as often as you've been in here for Quidditch injuries. Clean up, then you may eat, then someone should be here to answer your questions."

Frustrated and irritated, but knowing that further protests would get them nowhere with the formidable mediwitch, and finally noticing how full their bladders were, they quickly made their way to the loo, where they faced another problem. They couldn't let go long enough to 'take care of business'. "Maybe if we have our feet touching, we can let go our hands?" Harry suggested. That worked, for long enough, anyway, although it was terribly embarrassing for both boys, especially when they found they also had to empty their bowels. Fortunately, a freshening charm was kept on the room, so smells weren't a problem.

After washing hands and faces, they returned to the ward and, finding full English breakfast on a side-table, filled plates and started eating, both finding that they were very hungry. When they were mostly done, Dumbledore arrived with Professors McGonagall and Snape. Draco mostly ignored them and kept eating, but Harry wiped his mouth clean and addressed the headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore?"

That worthy raised one hand, stalling Harry's question, and said "Go ahead and finish eating, Mr. Potter. We'll wait. Can't have growing boys have growling stomachs after all, can we?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

'Patronizing twit.' thought Draco.

Harry blushed slightly, nodded, then started eating as quickly as he could. He wanted answers. Meanwhile, Professor Dumbledore conferred with Madam Pomfrey, then conjured chairs for himself and the teachers, and sat down. Both boys finished eating at approximately the same time, a few bites later.

"Right, then. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. I assume you have a few questions?" Dumbledore asked.

"You're a master of understatement, sir." Draco replied, almost respectfully. "So what's Potter done, and how long is it going to take to undo it?"

"Mr. Potter hasn't 'done', anything, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore replied.

"Nonsense! He said himself that he'd done the potion wrong." Draco interrupted arrogantly.

"Mr. Potter?" the headmaster asked, turning to Harry.

"I don't know that I made a mistake, sir, but Potions isn't one of my best classes," At which point Professor Snape snorted in agreement. Ignoring it, Harry continued "so I figure I must have done, mustn't I?"

Snape interrupted "As much as I hate to admit it, Mr. Potter, there was nothing wrong with your potion, or Mr. Malfoy's. I checked again after the incident to make sure."

"Then what happened?" both boys asked at once, although with differing tones of voice - Harry's confused, Draco's demanding.

At Dumbledore's insistence, Professor Snape related what he had seen, in as few words as possible, and looking as though he'd bitten into a particularly nasty 'Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans.'

"All we're totally certain of at this point is that the Power Partner spell triggered it, and that you seem to have bonded." the headmaster added. "However, we're still researching."

"What do you mean, 'bonded', and when are you going to reverse it?" Draco demanded.

"I mean that you are bonded not only on a magical level, but also on the emotional level as well. And I'm afraid that it's not reversible, because it wasn't caused by magic - only triggered by it." Dumbledore replied.

"But that's impossible!" Draco roared. "I have no feelings for Potter other than despising him, and I absolutely refuse to put up with this!" Harry looked at him with a somewhat shocked expression, feeling a bit hurt, but also with a certain amount of agreement. He was also looking a little weak and strained, Draco noticed. Though he didn't want to feel concerned, he did. He ignored it, though. As a Slytherin, he refused to be seen feeling concern for a Gryffindor.

"Firstly, Mr. Malfoy, while it certainly is extremely rare, the last occurrence being about 1,350 years ago, it is certainly not impossible. Secondly, the passion you two have shown towards each other over the last four years, although couched in antipathy, argues for much deeper feelings than you, or I'm sure Mr. Potter here, are willing to admit, and..." here he had to hold his hand up again to forestall the immediately heated response both boys were obviously about to make, "...and, thirdly, if you're positive that I'm mistaken, all you need do is stand up and walk away."

Draco, although feeling decidedly drained, stood up and tried just that, but only got one step away before finding that, all unbeknownst to him or Harry, they were still holding hands. Stunned, he stared at their joined hands, then at Harry, and finally looked up at Dumbledore. To his credit, the headmaster didn't even crack a smile, just looked gravely at the young Mr. Malfoy. Draco sat down heavily on the bed, still holding Harry's hand, then looked once again at Harry's face. Harry, for his part, looked just as gobsmacked as Draco felt; which, oddly enough, gave them both comfort.

"So... We bonded. And it's rare. What does that mean for us, exactly?" Harry asked.

Draco was still in shock as he looked at Harry. He was still simmering a bit, still wanting to fight the inevitable, but was feeling a growing sense of wonder, and just a hint of admiration, that this young man beside him could deal with all of this, and ask practical questions.

"We have little more to go on than legend and myth for a bonding like yours." Dumbledore replied. "And even then, your situation is different. The last such bonding, which is called a 'Light of Heaven' bonding for obvious reasons,..." he was interrupted.

"Sir? The reasons might be obvious to you, but I don't know what they are." Harry complained.

"You are not aware of what happened at the time, then?" McGonagall asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, professor, nor how long I - we - were unconscious."

"A large nimbus of bright golden light envelopes each of the two involved in the bonding during the pre-bonding stage, which merge as the parties touch, and, for lack of a better word at the moment, "explodes" violently when the bonding is complete." She explained. "As for how long you were unconscious," She surreptitiously looked to Dumbledore for approval, and at a slight nod of his head, continued. "it's been four days."

If Harry and Draco had been standing, they would have sat - heavily. But before they could question further, Dumbledore took over.

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore remarked. "Now, as I was saying, the last such bonding occurred when the partners were already fully adult and had already developed their own magical capabilities to the full. Even so, their bonding expanded their abilities exponentially. The two of you are still growing and developing. To have developed this bond now... Well, we just cannot predict the results."

Professor McGonagall chimed in. "But do rest assured that we shall do our best to help you and protect you while you are exploring your new relationship, and any difficulties that might come up in your bonding. Right now, though the bonding is permanent, it is still developing and can only grow stronger and deeper over time, even if you should try to fight it. Oh, dear. I do hope you won't try to fight it, as experience has shown with lesser bondings that severe damage results to both partners."

"So we don't have to like each other?" asked Draco.

"Ah... How can I put this delicately, Mr. Malfoy..." she replied, a hint of color coming to her cheeks. "Those other bondings; well, they were only Power Partners with a bit of emotional bonding. Your, and Mr. Potter's, bonding is very deep. Any antipathy you're feeling at this point is from self-deception and habit, and only fighting the inevitable."

Both boys blushed furiously at the realization that their most deeply hidden secrets and desires, not even fully acknowledged to themselves, were known to others.

"So what do we do now? We can't even let go of each other." Harry said, sounding defeated.

"That will change, Mr. Potter, over time. It should begin in a matter of a few days or weeks, if events develop as other bondings have done. However, it may be a year or more before you can stand to be further apart than, say, a hundred yards or so, for more than a few hours. As I said before, however, most of this is conjecture. Your situation is somewhat unique." Professor Dumbledore replied. "In the meantime, you cannot stay here, as really there is nothing wrong with you. Nor, I'm sure you realize, can you go back to your respective houses, so we have prepared rooms for you." He was relieved that both boys had regained some color to their faces, and seemed to be stronger than a few moments before.

"We can't see our friends?" Harry cried out.

"I didn't say that, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore replied. "In fact, you will not only be allowed to see your friends, but be required to attend classes, eat in the Great Hall, and attend other functions as they come up - eventually. For now, I think you will find that your situation is not the only thing causing you distress. I think you will find that the presence of others is grating. Until that passes, you must attend to your bonding and get to know each other better."

"In the meantime, I believe that there are a few people out in the hall who are quite worried about the both of you. Or rather," Dumbledore amended "there are people who are worried about each of you, individually. Once they have seen that you have come to no harm, you will be allowed no other visitors for that period of two weeks that I mentioned. If you have managed not to kill each other in that time, you should be bonded enough to allow the presence of others. Do you wish to see your visitors?"

"Who are they?" Harry asked.

"I believe it's Mr. Ronald Weasley, Miss Hermione Granger, Mr. Blaise Zabini, and Miss Pansy Parkinson." Dumbledore replied. "There were others, but we decided to limit this visit to these."

"Yes, please." Harry said. Draco just sat there, but nodded dazedly.

Draco knew what Dumbledore was not saying; that of all the Slytherins, Blaise and Pansy were the only ones who wanted to see him. He would have thought that Crabbe and Goyle - but then, the old coot had said that their visitors were restricted for some odd reason. He rather wished that Dumbledore had chosen one of his 'bodyguards' rather that Pansy. For Pansy, he was sure, it was all a matter of form; putting on a show of proper concern for her 'boyfriend'. The term, in regards to Pansy Parkinson, made him nauseous.

"For now, I think it might be best to let them believe that it was a potions accident." The headmaster warned. "Your bonding affects much more than yourselves, and the situation could not only get very complicated, but dangerous. I don't think I'd let on about the depth of the bond."

Draco slowly nodded, seeing where the older man's thoughts were going. Draco wasn't under any illusions about his parents' familial feelings for him. There weren't any - only duty. Although he wasn't exactly sure what his father would do upon hearing this news, Draco was pretty sure he wouldn't walk away from it in one piece. And in a world of magic users, most secrets didn't stay secret for long. So the question was, should he try to continue as always and hope that this new-found secret didn't get found out, or take steps to remove himself from Lucius' guardianship. Yes, the man was his father, but there wasn't a gram of love or respect for his son in him. In fact, Lucius regularly beat him for anything and everything Draco did that didn't live up to his, Lucius', standards.

Draco's body had, at the beginning of the school year, shown a variety of bruises in various stages of healing from his knees, to his shoulders, to his elbows. The fact that Lucius was so meticulous in his savage abuse as to not damage anything that might be easily seen, only made it worse. That the bruises were not allowed to be quickly spell-healed spoke almost of pride in his handiwork. Not that Lucius stopped with physical and emotional abuse. Draco had experienced far too many Dark curses as well, including Cruciatus. He had only stayed this long because he hadn't anywhere else to go. Now, with this development, even that reason wasn't enough. Now his survival was at stake; but who to ask for help?

At just short of sixteen years old, Draco was only five foot, five inches tall, and weighed 125 pounds. Both his father and mother were much taller, and while it was possible that he'd grow more, most boys not completely physically mature until about twenty-one years of age, it wasn't likely. His body had had to put too much energy, and magic, into healing his body to have enough left over to prepare it for growth. Although Draco didn't know it, if he grew another two inches, he'd be lucky.

"Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape? It was good of you to spare your time. Thank you. Madam Pomfrey? If you'd be so kind as to oversee the visit? I'll have the house elves take care of the chairs afterward." Dumbledore's words brought Draco back from his musings. "I'll be back later to take you to your new quarters, boys." At that, he turned and left. He wondered if he should have told the boys everything. Probably not. It hadn't shown to be necessary, yet.

The teachers, hearing the dismissal in his words, said their farewells and took their leave. Madam Pomfrey went to admit the visitors, giving them warning "Keep your voices low and try not to get too excited. Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy had a violent reaction to the Power Potion spell. If I see that they are tiring, you'll have to leave. And you only have a few minutes, anyway."

Ron and Hermione tried to protest while Pansy sneered at them in disdain, but the mediwitch was adamant. Giving in, they entered the ward.

Harry watched as their visitors almost tiptoed into the room, making him smirk in amusement. He felt Draco's similar reaction. Ron, Hermione, and Pansy Parkinson. Harry wasn't sure that the combination was a good one. He was especially worried that Ron's reaction to the bonding might be less than supportive, but hopefully the short visit wouldn't allow things to get too out of hand.

"Harry!" Ron yelled enthusiastically as soon as he caught sight of them. Then, after Hermione elbowed him in the ribs to remind him to be quiet, he'd winced, favored her with an apologetic glare, then almost whispered "Harry! Hey, mate! How're ya feeling?"

Pansy rushed to Draco's side, and started gushing. She was being particularly sweet - nauseatingly so, from the look on Draco's face. "Draco, you naughty boy! Don't you know you're supposed to duck when stupid Gryffindor's blow up their potions? Heard it was Potter this time instead of Longbottom." she said as she snuggled up to Draco and glared at Harry.

Draco wasn't sure if he should be sick from Pansy's "affections" or gleeful at Harry's discomfort. The resulting facial expression was - interesting.

As Harry started to reply to Ron's question, he saw his friends staring at something. He followed their eyes, and found it was his and Draco's clasped hands. "Harry," Hermione said slowly "is there something you'd like to tell us?"

This exchange had not gone unnoticed by Pansy, who quickly found the cause of such interest. "Potter! Just what do you think you're doing! Let go of my boyfriend this instant, you pervert!"

"Harry's not a pervert, Parkinson, it's that slimy git you call a boyfriend. How even he can stand to look at your mug is beyond me!" Ron retorted.

"I'll thank you, Weasel, to stay out of my affairs." Draco remarked sharply. Turning to the blond Slytherin girl that was clinging to him, he all but drawled "As it happens, however, I've been meaning to say this for some time. Pansy, dear, first of all, I'm not your boyfriend. Never have been, never will be. Yes, we had a bit of fun a couple of times, but that's all it was. Get over yourself. Secondly, and most unfortunately, Potter's potion mishap makes our having to be in physical contact a necessity for now. A situation which I fervently hope to be short-lived." 'Alright, so I lied a little. All in a good cause.' He added, silently, to himself.

Pansy was mortified to have been so humiliated in front of witnesses - and Gryffindors no less! Her face went white, then blood red before she stood quickly, glaring at Draco, and left. "Well, that's one down." Draco remarked, smirking. "How about it, Weasel, Mudblood? You pushing off, yet?"

Blaise snickered at Pansy's plight, and Draco's insults.

Seeing the hurt and anger on his friends' faces from Draco's careless insults, Harry found himself absolutely furious. Red-faced with anger, he grabbed the front of the other boy's pyjama tops, pulled him up to within inches of his face, and in a quiet, dangerous voice full of the threat of violence, stated "If you ever call them that again, Malfoy, you'll wish you were facing dementors instead of me."

Both immediately found themselves feeling faint. Eyes wide, feeling deep inside of himself the cold rage of Potter's emotions as well as the promise of his words, he managed "Hey, Potter, nothing meant by it. Don't get your pants in a twist!"

Still glaring, but feeling Draco's trepidation, Harry weakly said "We'll talk about this later."

"No need to do that, mate," Ron replied, glowering at Draco "I'd be happy to shut his mug, permanently."

"Oh? You, and just whose army, Weasley?" Draco replied tiredly.

"Shut your gobs, both of you." Harry interjected, sounding just as tired as Malfoy. "Ron, I didn't ask you to rescue me, and I don't need you to try. Malfoy, let's not make this any harder than we have to, hm?"

Draco looked about ready to drop, but nodded his head. Ron looked absolutely shocked that his best friend had turned on him like that.

Hermione had seen what happened. "Harry? Are you all right?" She didn't really care about Malfoy. He hadn't ever given her reason to.

Harry nodded his head, eyes closed and swaying a bit. But he knew Hermione wouldn't accept just that. "It's just a part of this damned potion thing, 'Mione. We feel each other's emotions too strongly." 'Only a little fib,' he reasoned.

"You're feeling each other's emotions?" she queried.

'Damn,' Harry thought 'have to watch my words more closely.'

"Just until the spell is reversed." Harry lied.

"Um... So, Harry... Um... Why was, um, is, Malfoy holding your hand?" Ron asked, managing to sound both embarrassed and murderous at the same time. "What's he up to?"

"Oh. Ron. Sorry I snapped at you, mate. But Draco's not up to anything, Ron. I have to have contact, too. Has something to do with that potion spell that went wrong." Harry mumbled, telling a partial lie. 'Shite, this is getting to be a habit.' "It's painful... Well, not real pain, but if we're not touching in some way..."

"I don't like it." Ron declared. "He's done something to you, Harry! And you just called him 'Draco'!"

"Ron, calm down." Hermione cautioned.

"It's just the potion, Ron" Harry lied again, trying to soothe the redhead.

"As if I'd be caught dead anywhere near Scarhead otherwise!" Draco snidely remarked. Well, he tried. He still sounded like he was half dead.

"Listen, Ferret-face..." Ron threatened.

The sobriquet angered Draco enough to say threateningly "Yeah, Weasel?" before turning rather pasty-faced, as did Harry, as both became very dizzy and weak.

Madame Pomfrey, who'd been discreetly listening, had heard the tension thickening, but had been in the middle of brewing a simple, but delicate, potion, so hadn't been able to get to the area before the flare-up. "Visiting time is over. Now! I told you not to get excited or loud. Out!" she instructed imperiously, as she stormed into the room.

"But Malfoy started it!" Ron complained.

"Regardless, I'm ending it. Out!"

"Can we see Harry tomorrow, Madame Pomfrey?" Asked Hermione.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Granger. As I said, they will be in isolation for a while."

"But - " Ron and Hermione started to protest.

"There is nothing that can be done about it, and it's not entirely my decision. Your friends will be fine. Now go!"

Out in the hall, Hermione turned to Ron "If you could just keep that stupid temper down! I wanted to ask more questions! Something about all this doesn't add up."

"That evil, malicious, malevolent, malignant, git, Malfoy,..."

"Is in the same boat as Harry." Hermione interrupted. "And because you couldn't keep your mouth shut... Well, I'll just have to do the best I can with what I have."

"What are you on about, 'Mione?" Ron demanded.

"Finding out what's really happened, that's what. I'll be in the library." And she strode off determinedly, leaving Ron, once again, with his mouth hanging open. Then, remembering who, in his mind, was the cause of Harry's plight, he allowed his resentful hate to start simmering again. With he and Draco's history, not to mention their families histories together, it didn't have to be logical - it just felt right.

Back in the infirmary, Poppy had just finished checking the boys to make sure no damage had been done.

"What... What happened to us, Madame Pomfrey?" asked Harry.

"What did it feel like?" She asked.

"Well, I got angry when Draco insulted my friends..."

"Scraping the bottom of the barrel to find those, Potter" Draco muttered, but there was no energy or real emotion behind it. It was more of a reflex, so Harry ignored it as best he could.

"As I said, I got angry and told Malfoy off for it, then I felt him get scared..."

"Scared of you, Potter? Don't make me laugh." Draco interjected.

Harry's patience was about at an end. "Look, Malfoy, I felt it! And don't tell me you didn't know what I was feeling, because that's what happened next!"

"What's that, Mr. Potter?" the mediwitch asked.

"Well, it was rather like our feelings started bouncing back and forth, and kept building up until we were overloaded." Harry replied.

"That's likely exactly what happened, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. And until you can build up some defenses against that, I suggest you try to get along. This was a very mild reaction. It could have been much worse."

"Worse?" Draco almost squeaked in disbelief.

Madam Pomfrey nodded "There have been cases of mutual insanity when bondmates couldn't find a way to work together." She then turned, and left.

"Potter?" breathed Draco weakly.

"Yes, Malfoy?" came the dazed reply.

"We are so screwed, Potter."

"Uh-huh."

Due to the incident, it was decided not to move them until the next day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Three

Waking up the next morning was a repeat of the one before - almost. This time, they weren't all that surprised. Not exactly pleased, but not surprised.

"Gods, Potter, get off me!" Draco groaned. Harry hadn't exactly been on top of him, but had been leaning against him, partially draped across one shoulder.

Rolling off to one side, Harry replied. "This is so fucked!" he complained.

"Well, you were the one on top of me." came the grumbled reply.

Harry's lips curled in a slight grin "So you pulled me on top of you, did you? How romantic!" then giggled.

"Pervert! I don't want you even touching me!"

Harry sighed. "No more pervert than you, Malfoy. And, well, it doesn't look like we have much choice, do we? Our bodies are controlling us. Doesn't matter what we want; we're going to be disgustingly close for a while."

Draco mumbled something that Harry couldn't quite hear. Something that almost sounded like "Wasn't that bad..."

"What was that, Malfoy?"

"Never mind." Draco paused for a moment, then asked "Did you dream?"

Harry looked at him suspiciously from the corner of his eyes. "Why?"

"Just tell me. Did you dream?"

Harry considered the question from all angles. As suspicious as he'd always been of Malfoy, he couldn't see any harm in the question. After all, he didn't have to be specific, and he knew that Draco would feel it if he lied; so he replied. "Yeah. Had the same one a few times, now. You?"

"Of course not. I never remember my dreams."

"Draco, you can tell when I'm lying, now. And I can tell when you are."

Draco heaved a heavy sigh. "Yes."

"Have you had it before?"

It was like pulling nails. "Yes."

"Tell me it."

"Why?"

"Because you were in my dream, and I want to know if I was in yours. And you did start this topic of conversation, so it's rather late to complain!"

"Bugger off, Potter!"

"As if I could. So was I?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well, if you must know, yes. It was a bloody nightmare!"

Harry grinned. "If it was anything like mine, it might seem like it now, but not at the time. Right?"

Draco rolled over and glared at the raven-haired boy next to him. "And what would you know about it, Potter?"

"You're not really angry, you know." Harry said, enjoying himself immensely. "You're scared I'll find out, and..." Harry paused, eyes growing huge. "Oh, bugger." he whispered, awed.

"What?!?"

"Um... What am I thinking, Draco?"

"How the bloody hell should I know, Potter? As if you have a brain!"

"Stuff it, Malfoy. Now concentrate! What am I thinking?"

Draco, irritated but curious, did concentrate. "Oh, bloody hell." he moaned in disbelief "We had the same bloody dream?"

"That too, but you're missing the point, Malfoy."

In a split second, Draco knew what Harry was thinking, and sat bolt-upright in bed. "We're reading each other's minds? Get away from me, Potter!" This time Draco did try to get as far away from the other boy as possible. He managed to get out of the bed and a few yards away before he sank to his knees, then, trembling violently, crawled back, only to be met halfway by Harry. Both boys were pale and panting, faces wet with cold sweat.

"Not - a - good idea - Malfoy." Harry gasped.

"Keep - out of - my bloody - mind!"

"Like I want - to see your - filthy mind?"

"At least I - have one!"

"A filthy mind? ... I agree."

At that, Draco threw a punch at the other boy, catching him on the cheek. Due to the awkward position, it wasn't a very hard punch. Still, it hurt. But what really surprised Harry was Draco's yell and putting his hands over his own face, breaking contact again - but not for long.

"What are you up to, you bloody git!" Harry demanded, weakly. "Trying to make it look like I hit you?"

"No! It was like I hit myself! I felt the pain!"

Harry stared, amazed, at the blond boy, just as a voice came from behind them.

"Oh, my. Already?"

Two heads whipped around to find the source of that voice. "Professor McGonagall?" they chorused.

"I shall have to inform the Headmaster immediately!" the Transfigurations professor continued, turning to leave.

"Please wait, Professor McGonagall!" Harry pleaded. "What do you mean? What do you know?"

"I really should not be the one to tell you, boys. I'll report to Headmaster Dumbledore, and tell him you have some questions." She replied.

"But Professor - " Harry and Draco protested simultaneously.

"No." she replied firmly. "Your questions will be answered, but I have been requested not to divulge that information. The headmaster has requested that he be the one to handle that, if asked."

"Yes, Professor." Again, the two voices as one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They seem to be bonding much faster than could be expected, Albus, and they want some answers. I believe they deserve some answers."

Dumbledore sighed. "You're right, Minerva. I'll be there in half an hour. I have a few things I need to take care of, first."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter. I believe you have some questions?" The headmaster had, as was his habit, seemed to appear in the room without having had to walk into it first. The boys suspected that he might be doing just that, as their startled faces whipped around on their necks, causing Dumbledore to inwardly wince in wonder that they hadn't caused themselves whiplash.

"Yes, Headmaster." Draco answered. "We should be quite grateful for any information on what more we can expect from this bond than we've been told. I, at least, was under the impression that the only major difference was an increase in power." To which Harry nodded his head in agreement, but winced at Draco's overly-stiff and formal wording. "And how the hell it happened in the first place! We hate each other!" Draco continued, hotly. Harry now looked extremely shocked, to Dumbledore's amusement.

"To answer your last statement first, Mr. Malfoy; you don't." He raised his hand to forestall both boys' protests. "To begin with, you read your emotions about each other yesterday. That hasn't changed. You're still trying to deny them... No, now, let me finish, please," as again he saw interruptions in their faces. "How old were you when you first met? Eleven, wasn't it? And not under the best of circumstances, at that. Have you seen how little boys react to little girls whom they find they have crushes on, and visa-versa; when they find unfamiliar, warm emotions towards another, emotions they're not prepared to handle? They're confused, and have conflicting desires; to get close, and touch, on the one hand, and to make those uncomfortable emotions go away, on the other. Both urges are partially satisfied in agression; they tend to pick on the other; to push, shove, or even hit. And if those feelings are reciprocated, then they often pick on each other."

"What does that have to do with us, Headmaster? Neither of us is a girl!" Remarked Harry.

"And that just made the equation that much more complicated." Dumbledore replied.

Neither boy was slow of wit, so the implications of that remark were quickly grasped.

"But we're not...!" Harry protested, interrupting.

"I'm not, anyway!" Draco chimed in, with a sneer.

"If I may finish without any more interruptions, you will be able to register your denials as you will." Dumbledore replied, somewhat impatiently.

Draco and Harry heard that as the order it was, so subsided.

Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore continued. "As I was saying, you were eleven years old, you had met under less than optimum circumstances, and you were very much emotionally and physically ill-equipped to handle romantic love, let alone what, as you were taught was so, regardless of truth, was an unacceptable attraction to each other. By the time you had developed the emotional tools to handle the situation, your ways of dealing with each other had become a deeply ingrained habit. If it hadn't been for the Power Partner potion, it may have taken another few years for you two to realize it, if then. Because of it, as I told you yesterday, you now have the ability to know each other's emotions and discover the truth. You seem to have found a way to again deny what you felt in each other yesterday: or are you just denying your own feelings to yourselves? Well, there's another way. Look deep into each others' eyes, and see what you see." the headmaster ordered.

Reluctant, their movements towards looking into each other's eyes were slow, moving towards, then jerking away, but finally their eyes meeting - and they couldn't look away. Naked truth danced there. There was jealousy, envy, fear of rejection, and a deep loneliness, but there was also respect, need, lust, and the strong, deep beginnings of an emotion that might someday be love. Not only did they see each other's emotions, but the realization of feeling their own emotions in the other boy's mind.

Deeply shaken, Harry and Draco looked away from each other, and sat silently for a couple of minutes. After recovering somewhat, Harry was the only one with enough confidence to ask, albeit with a voice that was trembling and shaky, "How... Um... We didn't even... How could you? Know, that is?"

"It is often much easier for those on the outside to see a situation truly than those involved, and I've had many years of experience as both teacher and headmaster to pick up on the signs. It also helps that I know some psychology." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling wildly as he winked at the boys. He was very proud of himself.

"You're not - upset - then?"

"Upset? Not at all, my boy. As I said, the two of you were taught that this kind of relationship is wrong; for different reasons, of course. You, Mr. Potter, were brought up in a Muggle society that is paranoid of anything different, fearing and attacking those people and things that differ from the majority. You, Mr. Malfoy, were brought up to think of yourself as breeding stock." As Draco opened his mouth to protest this observation, Dumbledore raised a hand, demanding patience. "Not in so many words, but you were constantly told that you had to carry on the Malfoy lineage and produce heirs?" At Draco's somewhat dazed nod as he woke to an unsavory truth, the old wizard continued. "So any other way of life would, I am sure, have been presented to you - in reference only, of course - as being filthy; "unworthy of a Malfoy" would have been a favorite phrase, if I recall Lucious correctly. But the wizarding world at large knows that magic and personality are the only truly important things about a person - not who they love."

Draco had recovered somewhat by then, and stood, shaking in rage (and still holding Harry's hand) "Love? Love?! Do you have any idea what this is going to do to my life?? IF I have one for long?! If my father doesn't kill me, the Death Eaters are going to be after me, and even if I survive all that, I'll still be disinherited! And you talk of love?!" Near the end of his rant he started feeling rather weak, and had to sit down quickly in order to keep from falling down.

"Look at Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore ordered, coldly. The unfamiliar tone in the headmaster's voice made Draco look at him in shock, then at Harry. Harry's face was a bit pallid, eyes half-closed. "Didn't you feel the stress you were putting on your bondmate, Mr. Malfoy?"

Strangely, for him, he felt stricken by the sight. "I... Yes, but... I just - didn't... I thought it was - just - me!"

"It's going to be at least a couple of years before you'll be able to separate enough for it to be 'just you' again, Mr. Malfoy, if you choose to be by that time. Please keep that in mind." Dumbledore replied. "As for your very valid concerns... Well," he continued, looking somewhat abashed, "there's something more I need to tell you. I did some research on your families yesterday after your incident." He paused.

"What do our families have to do with this?" Harry asked. He had recovered quite quickly - far more so than when Draco and he had been throwing their anger at each other. Then, as a thought hit him, became alarmed "We're not related, are we?"

Dumbledore almost laughed at the boy's panic. "No, not that I found, anyway." Then sobering, "I didn't think it would make any difference, but because of how quickly events are proceeding, the information may very well be of use. Considering your state of denial, however, I doubt very much that you will like it."

Draco closed his eyes in an effort to remain calm "Just tell us, Headmaster, and stop beating around the bush. And I hope this has a bearing on keeping me from being killed." Harry found himself quite enjoying Draco's stance. The old man was far too secretive and manipulative.

To both boys' surprise, and Draco's mischievous delight, a slight blush tinged the old man's cheeks as he was caught out in his procrastination. He quickly pulled himself together, however.

"I ask that you do not interrupt or ask questions until I'm finished relaying my news. I wish to tell you both what I have found out about each of you, first."

Harry and Draco's eyes grew grave, then they nodded in agreement to the terms.

Dumbledore cast his stunner (In Muggle terms, he "dropped his bombshell".) "It turns out that neither of you are one hundred percent human."

Despite their promise, Harry and Draco erupted in stunned disbelief, Draco's argument paramount, Harry's being little more than a loud "What?!"

"Malfoys are pureblooded wizards!" Draco yelled, insulted beyond belief. "We are not..."

"Mr. Malfoy! You will control yourself this instant! Twenty points from Slytherin House! You must learn to control your emotions, both of you." It was so rare to see their headmaster angry, that the young men subsided.

When he saw the two boys calmed down enough to listen again, he continued.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, insofar as bloodlines are concerned, one would have to go back quite a few centuries to find a Muggle in your family tree. However, if you consider the power a Veela can assert over a human, is it that hard to imagine that one of your ancestors may have wished to incorporate it into your family? You, Mr. Malfoy, are approximately one-quarter Veela, and you, Mr. Potter, have a bit more than that, plus a trace of vampire."

Considering the question and relating it to the usual goals of the Malfoy family, Draco could see one of his innumerable ancestors slobbering all over themselves with desire for anything that would increase power in the family, magical, political, or otherwise. It was a very disturbing thought. Still, he couldn't resist a dig at Mr.-Fucking-Wonderful-Potter: "Vampire, Potter? How wonderfully Dark of you!" Draco said, baiting the Gryffindor. Harry glared at the blonde, but didn't deign to reply.

"A trace of Noble Vampire, Mr. Malfoy, not Common Vampire. You appreciate the difference?" Dumbledore responded. "And these interruptions are gettng tiresome."

Harry thought the old man was starting to sound a little bit like Snape. It made for an interesting change. But what was a "noble vampire" - Count Dracula?

At the mention of Noble Vampires, Draco's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He was very good at hiding his emotions when he wished to. He nodded his head in response to the headmaster's question.

Seeing Draco's renewed willingness to listen, Dumbledore continued "The latter explains your coloring Mr. Potter, as Mr. Malfoy more exemplifies Veela coloring. There was also a rumor of some satyr in your ancestry, Harry, but that was probably calumny."

"What -" Harry started, wanting to know more about 'noble' vampires.

"What that means, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore interrupted, getting a little of his own back, "is that you may both be due to experience a genetic 'heritage' on your sixteenth birthdays. The Power Partner potion triggering such a strong bonding between you makes it more likely, but it's still only guesswork. Although triggered artificially, I have no idea if it was fully triggered or only partially. I suspect the latter. However, what it means for the two of you is that, if one or both of you do come into that genetic heritage, you will..." The headmaster paused, unsure of how to break the news to the boys, due to their ingrained views, and struggled for words.

Of course the answer Dumbledore gave wasn't in the least the one appropriate to the question Harry had been about to ask, but the young man was sufficiently distracted by the information Dumbledore had presented, that he let it go.

Seeing this, Harry and Draco felt a deep sense of dread about what the elderly man might say next. "Sir?" Harry hesitantly prompted.

Dumbledore sighed. There was nothing for it but to say it. "The two of you will - mate. Your natures will allow nothing less if you receive your inheritances, now that you are bonded. Of course, the mating should produce a bond of another kind, as well. Again, we are flying by starlight. (i.e., almost in the dark)" What he didn't say, was that there were so many complicating factors that those who knew, and cared, were scared witless by the possibilities.

Harry and Draco only looked at him, a bit stunned.

"Considering everything we've had to accept today, sir, that's - still a bit hard to take." Harry finally said. "First the bond, then our sexuality, then our lineage... Now this? ... I suppose it's logical, but it's too soon! Can we have some time to ourselves?"

Dumbledore was looking at Harry curiously. "Why are you speaking for Mr. Malfoy as well, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked shocked. "What? I... I didn't realize I was."

"Potter... Harry, I guess I should say; was just saying what I was feeling, so I didn't feel the need to say anything. I... He... " Draco's voice ground to a halt as darkness rushed up to claim him, and with him went Harry Potter.

"Poppy!" Dumbledore yelled. "Come quickly!"

Upon entry, the mediwitch caught sight of the unconscious boys and quickly started checking them over. "What happened?!" she demanded.

"I'm afraid I'm at fault, Poppy. I gave them some information that seems to have overwhelmed them."

"What?"

"They're both at least part Veela."

"What?!?" Pomfrey exclaimed. "And when were you planning on telling me, Albus?! You don't think that information would help me care for them?" As she was speaking, she had turned to a nearby shelf of books, pulled a couple of them, and looked up a couple of references. "Anything else I should know?"

"How much vampire would there have to be to make a difference?" Dumbledore asked.

The mediwitch stared at the old man in shock. "Not much. Who?"

"Mr. Potter. But only a trace."

"That rather explains the unusual eye and hair coloring. Veelas are lighter, such as Mr. Malfoy." she remarked, apropos of nothing. "Which kind of vampire?"

"Noble."

Shaking herself out of her half-daze, Poppy looked up a couple of other references.

After a few minutes of casting medical check-up spells, she finally gave a verdict. "Well, it seems as though no harm has been done, but there could easily have been. And it seems that the Veela genes, if they were dormant before, have been activated. The Vampire genes, as well."

"That - will - complicate matters. But if they're alright, then why are they still unconscious?"

"They've slipped into a deep sleep, Albus." She replied. "Probably the best thing, right now. Their subconscious minds will be able to process and handle the shock they've received."

"I take it then that they should not be moved, yet?"

"You take it correctly, Headmaster."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and Draco revived a few hours later, but needed the rest of the day to recover fully. As might be expected with all that had happened to them, their dreams the night before had been vivid, wild and chaotic (with a small helping of eroticism), but their sleep was unbroken and restful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4

"Now, since Poppy's given you both a clean bill of health after the shock of yesterday's revelations, I'll take you to see your new quarters. I'm sure you're quite tired of the hospital wing, and it's becoming more difficult to deter curiousity seekers, as well." Dumbledore told the boys the next morning after breakfast.

"Will we have to leave our Houses completely, then?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore's face softened. "No, Mr. Potter. You'll still be associated with your respective Houses, but I doubt very much that you'll be able to spend enough time apart from each other before graduation to be able to move back into your own dorms. In a few months, due to the other matters we discussed yesterday, I don't believe you'll wish to, anyway." Harry and Draco remained silent on that point, although they still hadn't fully accepted their fate. "We'll even have to juggle your classes so that you can have them together. We will all meet with your House heads to do that." He then continued with a grin. "And now, let's go see where you're going to be living for the next few years! The house elves should already have your belongings there."

Professor Dumbledore had chosen a time during classes so the boys wouldn't be subjected to a lot of staring, gossiping and finger-pointing, for which both Harry and Draco were duly grateful. They were led through several hallways, a few of which were obviously rarely used, and a couple of secret passages, as well. In one hallway hung a pastoral painting of a picnic scene. The portrait was of a dark-haired lad semi-reclining on the grass beside a picnic laid out on a multi-colored blanket, gazing dreamily at slowly-scudding clouds through the boughs of a large elm tree while three of his peers played in the background next to a large lake - the same lake Hogwarts now resided upon. The cloth the picnic was set out on was done in a squares pattern of four colors; saffron, representing Gryffindor, baby blue for Ravenclaw, sea-green for Slytherin, and a very muddy yellow for Hufflepuff. It was this painting in front of which Dumbledore stopped, bringing Harry and Draco to a halt as well. He took out his wand, touched both a sea-green and a saffron square and said "Light of Heaven". There was a click, then the painting swung aside to reveal a door. Instead of opening it right away, Dumbledore closed it once again, then turned to the boys.

"In order to keep this room as secure as possible, there have been several protection charms placed on it, as well as needing a charmed key to open the door. What you just saw me do will be what anyone but you two will need to do. Since you're going to be in and out of here fairly often, it might become somewhat inconvenient for you to go through that procedure every time - especially if you need access quickly in order to find refuge. Mr. Malfoy, put your hand on the sea-green square I indicated, please, and Mr. Potter, the same with the saffron square I touched, then say the password." Once they had complied, he incanted "Famen Cautus Cultus". Harry and Draco felt a slight tingle in their hands, and jerked back in alarm. The boy in the portrait had stopped looking at the clouds to watch the proceedings, and winked at them. "Don't worry, boys." Dumbledore laughed "The wards now know you and your voices, and will allow you entry with only the password. All others who wish entry can do so only with your permission, or if they know how to pass the other security precautions. Only two others than I know those; Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey."

"And why isn't the head of my house allowed access?" Draco asked, coldly.

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "I'm afraid I cannot give you the answer to your question, Mr. Malfoy. Suffice it to say that Professor Snape is aware of the situation and has given his full approval to being kept in the dark on this matter. He may, however, visit you if you wish." Then, abruptly changing the subject, he said "You will also be able to change the password at any time simply by telling the portrait what you'd like it changed to, but you will have to do so jointly. He will refuse it, else. This is to prevent pranks on each other, and to prevent one or the other of you being forced to open it while alone. Hopefully neither scenario is likely," he stopped to look meaningfully at the two arch-rivals, "but best not to take chances, eh?" he continued. "Now, I'm sure you'd like to see your new quarters. Would one of you like to do the honors?"

In unrehearsed unity, both boys chorused "Light of Heaven", looked at each other with an air of puzzlement, then shrugged it off, though Draco was scowling slightly, as though Harry had done it on purpose to mock him.

"Who is the portrait of, Headmaster?" Harry asked.

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore replied "You don't recognize Godric Gryffindor?", then enjoyed the look of shock on Harry's face. Draco, very deliberately, looked unimpressed.

"I presume, then, that the three in the background are Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff?" Harry said.

"Why would you presume that?" Dumbledore asked, amused.

"The picnic blanket. The colors aren't exact, but they're close."

"Quite right, Mr. Potter. In fact, the blanket colors are a mix of the two colors of each house. Therefore, saffron from Gryffindor's red and gold, seafoam green from Slytherin's green and silver, baby blue from Ravenclaw's blue and silver, and that - interesting - shade of yellow from Hufflepuff's yellow and black." Dumbledore eplained. "And now, shall we go in?"

Harry just stood there, looking pointedly at his headmaster. The old man looked quizzically at him, then seemed to remember. "Oh, yes. The keys. There is one for each of you, and one for Minerva, Poppy and myself. Yours have the added benefit of only needing to have them on you in order to open the door. Don't lose them. They can't be replicated without a great deal of time and expense." They unlocked the door and went in. The room they entered, the common room, wasn't plush by any means, but it did have an air of comfort about it. The furniture was a heavy black wood, covered with thick cushions which had patterns in silver, gold, red, and green. The rugs and draperies picked up the color scheme. A fire was burning in the fireplace.

"You've both taken Transfigurations, so you may change the decor and color scheme as you like. I do think, however, that you should agree on what changes to make before you make them, for the sake of peace and harmony."

Dumbledore then continued their conversation, or rather his discourse, from outside as though nothing else had happened or had been said between-times. "Of course, since you'll be using these rooms for the foreseeable future, you have the option of continuing to carry your keys, or having yours enchanted into some portion of your anatomy. If you choose that option, I recommend just inside the pelvic bone. Extremities can be removed." Then, as though he hadn't just planted a mental bomb in their imaginations, he continued. "No kitchen, but meals will be delivered." Dumbledore informed them. "The necessary and shower are through there," indicating a door just to the right of the fireplace, "and the bedroom through there." indicating the door on the left side of the fireplace. "There's a connecting door from the bedroom to the loo, as well. There's also something of a surprise; a bath. This was once a teacher's rooms. Not in recent years, however."

Bathtubs were a rarity at Hogwarts, shower stalls being the regular order of things, so having one available was a luxury usually reserved only to the Head Boy, Head Girl, the prefects bathing rooms, and for those teachers who lived on the premises and wished one. Most teachers had quarters in Hogsmeade now, though.

When Harry and Draco entered their bedroom, they found their trunks at the foot of the bed; a double-wide. One bed. Harry and Draco stood just inside the door of the bedroom, just staring at it, as the implications sank in. "You... You can't be meaning that we sleep together!" Draco protested to the headmaster.

"If you'll recall, boys," the old man replied, eyes twinkling, "you were given two beds in the infirmary. You always wound up in one. That situation is not likely to change, given the circumstances."

"But..."

"I'll leave you to get settled in, then. And I hate to mention it, but neither of you have bathed in a few days, wipe-downs notwithstanding. You're getting a bit ripe."

Draco glowered at the old man as he exited, and Harry blushed.

"He's right, you know." Harry said quietly. "We do rather liven up the atmosphere."

"I'm not getting naked with you, Potter."

"I'm not too fond of the idea myself, but do we really have a choice?" Harry replied. It was a half-truth. He really wanted to see his bondmate's assets, but was sure he'd die of embarrassment to be in the situation they were about to face.

"I hate you when you're right. Alright, let's just get this over with, then." 'Gave up just a little easily there, didn't you?' came a little voice in Draco's head. 'I do not want to see Harry naked!' Draco protested to himself. 'So who said anything about "Harry," being naked, and why are you sweating? Not a little hot and bothered by the thought, are we?' Draco's argument with himself was interrupted.

"Um... How are we going to handle this?" 'Draco's looking a little flushed. I wonder... Naw! Couldn't be.'

Draco gave Harry a quizzical frown. "You get wet and wash, Potter." he said sarcastically. 'I have to keep him at a distance!' Draco thought, frantically.

Harry didn't say anything to the sarcasm, just raised their linked hands.

"Oh. Well... Um... Right!" as a solution struck the blonde. "There is a bath, right? Sitting down, we could just touch feet while we bathe."

"Yes, that should work." Harry said thoughtfully, but with unvoiced misgivings. He could feel the bond getting stronger, and his attraction to the smaller lad was likewise much stronger.

"Well, it's not going to get any better by putting it off, Potter." Draco sneered. "Let's get this over with"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Will you bloody well stand still?!" Draco demanded, panting in frustration.

They had been trying for the past five minutes to get undressed, only to find that their wayward hands kept getting entangled with each other.

"How did we manage to get dressed in the first place, in order leave the infirmary?!" Harry asked, in an equal state of frustrated dishabille.

"I don't remember! I was thinking of too many other things!" Draco exclaimed.

"Same here." Harry replied.

"Oh, that's bloody brilliant, that is." Draco replied, sarcastically.

"I think we need to calm down before we wind up back in the infirmary again." Harry said.

Draco glared, but said nothing.

Mind racing, Harry had an idea. "Draco..."

"What?!" Draco snapped.

"I have an idea. You're not going to like it - I don't like it much - but I can't think of anything else right now." Another half-truth, but what he had in mind should work, anyway.

"Anything's better than this, Potter. I'm not going to remain smelling like some dregs out of the gutter." the usually-fastidious Draco replied.

"You're exaggerating. Anyway," Harry took a deep breath before racing through the rest of his thought. "if we touch cheeks, we'll be able to have our hands free."

Draco stared. "You're barmy, Potter. You know that, don't you? You actually want us to neck while we're getting undressed?"

"Can you think of anything else?"

Draco pondered. "There has to be some other way! That's too bloody poofy for words!" he'd be fucked if he was going to admit his attraction to the idea. 'No! Bad choice of words!'

Harry waited. Then he waited some more.

"The water's going to get cold, Draco."

"Oh, all right! But this does not mean that I'm giving in!"

For some reason, Harry found Draco's reaction amusing, and on a mischievous whim replied, "Of course not, honey."

"POTTER!" Draco yelled, scandallized.

Harry snickered. This might be fun after all.

Grinning, he leaned towards the other boy.

"Just what are you up to, Potter?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"We both need to get clean, and we can't do it with our clothes on." Harry said, innocently.

"No funny stuff."

"Not funny at all." Harry said seductively, blinking his eyelashes at the blonde.

"I think I might like finding out what the dregs smell like." Draco said, nervously. Despite being fascinated by the dark-haired boy by his side, he didn't know how to respond to him. After over four years of watching, Harry Potter was still a mystery to him, unlike almost everyone else he'd ever come across, and this Harry Potter he'd never seen at all.

Harry laughed. "I'm just pulling your chain, you prat! Let's get clean."

Heavy distrust in his eyes, Draco complied, and with only a few other minor hurdles to jump, they were soon soaking in the tub.

Harry had very much liked what he saw when Draco undressed, and despite the Slytherin's attempts to hide as much as possible, had seen everything he had to offer. Harry had a difficult time keeping a certain body part from showing its appreciation of the view, but had managed by picturing his cousin Dudley in a thong. That picture managed to traumatize his libido quite thoroughly, at least for the moment.

Draco, while pretending to attend only to his own business, had been slyly peeking at Harry while they undressed, and had appreciated the view of the green-eyed boy, but refused to acknowledge it. He was a Malfoy and a Slytherin, and he refused to be manipulated, even by Mother Nature.

Mother Nature was about to get more aggressive.

Getting into the full tub while still trying to maintain modesty and keep some sort of physical contact with each other would have provided a watcher with weeks worth of grins and giggles. They didn't manage, of course, but denial can be a powerful tool. Each managed to convince himself that he'd managed to preserve his own dignity, while getting a month's worth of wanking material from the other. They settled in to soak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5

The tub wasn't quite long enough to allow only their feet to touch. Although plenty wide enough for two, they were foot to thigh, and quite unable to keep their legs from rubbing together while they washed themselves, simply from the actions needed to scrub. And that was a constant reminder to each that they were nude in a bathtub with the gorgeous boy that had featured, time and again, in their own erotic dreams - and that boy was also nude. This had the expected result, of course, of two very hard and excited manhoods, although they both tried desperately to hide it. Harry didn't want to give Draco any ammunition for his sharp tongue, and Draco was still fighting a losing battle against Mother Nature.

Draco's mind kept coming back to Harry Potter. Logically, Har... Potter shouldn't want to have anything to do with him; not that Draco could blame him. His jealous, petty behavior, his insults both to Ha - Potter and his friends... 'Wait a moment! Did I just say I was petty? And jealous of Harry Potter?' he thought to himself. As much as he wanted to deny it, his new-found honesty with himself wouldn't let him. 'I guess I have been, a bit. Maybe more than a bit? After all, Harry's popular, has so many friends, he's famous, cute, and has such a hot body!' He blushed at admitting those last two things to himself. 'And all I'd have to do is offer to wash his back, then I could just reach around, and...' his unruly thoughts had continued. At that, he could feel his face getting really hot, and as a certain body part twitched violently, he thought 'I suppose that clinches it. Perhaps I am gay. I've certainly got the hots for "The Boy Who Lived."' He gave up the fight.

The crowd went wild. Score ten points for Mother Nature. The quaffle had gone through the hoop, but the snitch wasn't yet caught.

Private introspection aside, there was still the matter of the bath and bodily betrayal. Eventually, both young men had washed every square inch of their skins at least twice, stalling, hoping against hope that their body's betrayal of sexual excitement would subside. Draco may have given up his fight against his nature, but now he was terribly self-conscious. Draco's skin was quite red, and it wasn't all from scrubbing. Not even mostly.

Harry and Draco had, after a time, to stop scrubbing or risk being in pain for several days while their skins healed. After five minutes of just sitting in the tub looking everywhere but at each other, Harry stated the obvious. "We're stalling."

Embarrassed silence, then "Yes."

"You?" A world of questions in one word, but knowing the answer beforehand due to their link. It was just another stall tactic.

"Uh-huh."

"Me too."

"I know."

"Well, this is awkward."

"Too right. It's one thing, knowing. Quite another to not only see, but be seen." Draco offered.

"Quite." Another moment passed. "We can't stay here all day."

"I'm willing to give it a try."

"Draco, you were never a coward."

"Yes, I am."

Harry finally looked at the other boy. "I don't think so. Cautious, a good sense of self-preservation, but that's not necessarily cowardice. Just good sense."

"Compliments now, Potter?"

Harry shrugged, inadvertently almost giving Draco a heart attack, watching the play of muscles under wet skin. "If the truth is complimentary, I guess."

Coming to an abrupt decision, Harry stood up, stepped out of the tub, turned back around and quickly grasped Draco's hand. "Come on, then. We still need to get settled in, then get Tea." Receiving no answer, he looked down to find Draco's glazed eyes fixed on Harry's still-erect member, now just inches from his face. Face suddenly burning a lot more fiercely than before, as he became all too aware of the other boy's emotional reactions, he said, voice suddenly shaky, "D-d-draco?"

Not saying a word, Draco quickly stood up, stepped out of the tub, and hurriedly dragged Harry, both still sopping wet, to the bedroom. He swung Harry around him and pushed the boy backwards onto the bed. Taking a brief look at Harry's wet, and obviously aroused nude form, and before Harry could recover, Draco fell forward onto the other boy, grabbing and pinning his arms, their erections mashed together between them. Draco's eyes looked deeply into Harry's, seeing and feeling both the Griffindor's uncertainty and a matching hunger. It was the latter he paid attention to. His gaze drifted lower, to full, kissable lips. He hungrily bent forward to take possession of them, his breathing both fierce and uneven, hips bucking involuntarily, triggering an answering involuntary response from the young man under him.

Their lips met in a fierce, almost bruising kiss, then Harry found his arms free as Draco took control of his dark-haired head, the graceful fingers strong, yet gentle, as he took full possession of Harry's lips. But instead of trying to get away, Harry submitted, one hand going to the back of Draco's wet head, the other around his waist, trying to increase the friction down there. Their still-wet skin slipped together, creating a very pleasant sensation. Soon their awkward movements fell into an ages-old rhythm as their hips thrust together. Their kissing had to be put on hiatus as the need for oxygen increased, reduced to quick little pecks on any skin surface that presented itself.

Suddenly the chains of all of Harry's insecurities and hang-ups broke. He grabbed Draco more firmly and swiftly rolled over on top of him. Draco struggled. He was a Malfoy and a Slytherin, and he was used to always being obeyed, always being in control. So he struggled. Not trying to get away, but to regain his position, his superiority, his authority. But Harry was now firmly in control, and slowly, Draco began to realize that he liked it that way. For once, he could let himself relax and just let things happen, not knowing exactly what would happen, but being able to trust - to let go. Even before they had found their link through the Power Partners potion, Draco had known that Harry could be trusted; it was merely his pride, and then his father's urging, that had kept the enmity going. As he came closer to his orgasm, he became aware, on a deeper level, that Harry was also getting close. Again their minds meshed, each aware of the emotions and sensations the other was sensing, but this time it was an entirely enjoyable experience; one that put them both over the top at the same time. Their bodies froze, pelvises ground together, as they spewed forth their fluids.

Silence, as their bodies relaxed. Not a heavy or guilty silence, but one of shared blissful exhaustion, labored breathing easing, becoming more relaxed. Harry lifted his head just enough to find and kiss the lips of the boy under him. It was a gentle kiss that didn't last very long, yet expressed so much; thank you - you're beautiful - you're mine. Not yet 'I love you', but getting there.

Draco slowly looked up in amazement into the green eyes of the boy on top of him. He was totally lost, and he knew it. "That was - amazing. Brilliant. Too bloody wonderful for words." he breathed.

"Mm-hm." Harry agreed, his head having sunk to rest on Draco's collar-bone.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"Harry, that was brilliant and all - but, you're getting heavy."

Chuckling, Harry planted one more wet one on the Slytherin, then rolled off onto the bed. "We're going to have to bathe again, you know."

"Mm. Get rid of the 'evidence' before we start smelling. Give me a minute?"

"Mm-hm."

When he'd recovered enough, Draco suggested. "Try the shower this time?"

"Sure."

Despite the recent interlude, or perhaps because of it, but on a different level, both young men were feeling a bit shy as they entered the shower.

"Wash your back?" Harry offered.

Draco startled, to hear his own earlier thought echoed back to him. "Um... Sure."

Harry's strong, soapy hands on his back were both relaxing and stimulating, almost more of a massage than just washing skin, and so... Mmmm... He could feel those hands as they moved down his back, lower, and lower. But they didn't stop at his waist, even dipping into his crack, and as much as he was enjoying the sensation, he wasn't ready for that quite yet. "Um... Harry? I don't want to ruin the mood, but - can we work up to that?" He blushed, then continued. "I think; no, I know that I'll want you to touch me there someday, but not right now, okay?"

Harry was a little disappointed, but moved his hands higher again. "Of course, Draco. Whenever you're ready. And have you noticed you've been using my first name?"

Draco gave a weak chuckle. "Well, after what we just did, don't you think I should?"

"I like it. Want to return the favor?"

"What?!" a little alarmed.

"Wash my back?"

"Oh. Okay."

"And Draco? You don't have to stop at the waist if you don't want to." Draco turned red. "You have the prettiest blush." Harry remarked teasingly.

"And you call me mean!" Draco said, giving Harry's biceps a half-hearted punch. "Ow! I forgot about that. Talk about unfair! I can't even punish you." Draco pouted.

"Even your pout is cute." Harry teased.

"You are so unfair!"

"And you love it." Harry said, turning around and putting his arms around Draco, unintentionally giving them full frontal contact. As they again started to react, Harry pulled back a bit, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Draco's. "Um... Maybe we should leave that for another time. Tonight, maybe?"

"Maybe." Draco admitted with a small smirk.

This new Draco that Harry was seeing was miles away from the one he was used to. 'I think I could get used to this Draco.' Harry thought.

They exited the shower and managed to get dried off, then dressed, their hands not interfering half so often as before, and breaking contact for several seconds at a time. Lost in their own thoughts, neither really took notice until they were fully dressed. Then Draco realized what had been happening. "Harry? Did you notice? We weren't touching all the time!"

Surprised, Harry thought back, then nodded. "You're right." then he grinned evilly at Draco "A happy side-effect of happy times?" he teased.

Draco blushed yet again 'Damn, but this is becoming a habit!', but answered with a half-smile. "Maybe. But it could be because you're being such a prat! If you don't stop making me blush, I'm going to have to find a way to punish you!"

Harry grinned, and said teasingly "What? You going to spank me?" and wiggled his bum at Draco. Draco swatted at it, but Harry evaded. Grinning, he said "Come on, then. I'm hungry. If we hurry, we can still make tea in the Great Hall."

Draco held back "Dumbledore said we were to eat here, and I don't think I'm ready for the whole school to see us holding hands, even if it's only because we have to. I'm going to have enough trouble when this news gets out. I'd like to put it off as long as possible."

"You're right. I forgot. I'm sorry." Harry apologized. "So how are we supposed to get food?"

Just then there was the sound of a *pop*, and a house elf appeared. "So sorry to be so late, masters. Jinkies so sorry. Jinkies will punish himself severely later. Can Jinkies get the masters anything?"

"No need to punish yourself, Jinkies." Harry replied. "Everyone is late once in a while. It's forgivable. And please don't call me master. My name is Harry Potter, and this is Draco Malfoy. You may address us as you feel comfortable. We could use tea, though. Whatever the Great Hall is having."

"Speak for yourself, Harry." Draco retorted. "I want a steak and lobster meal with a jacketed potato and a salad."

"Jinkies so sorry Master Draco, sir, but Master Dumbledore strictly say no special meals, Master Draco, sir. Jinkies cannot disobey Master Dumbledore, sir. Jinkies sorry." The poor house elf declared.

As disgusted with the situation as he was, Draco could not bring himself to take it out on the house elf - definitely out of character, and he wondered at himself. "Not your fault, elf. Just make sure there's plenty of whatever swill they're serving tonight." 'Ah, that's more like it', he thought to himself.

"Do you know a house elf by the name of Dobby, Jinkies?" Harry asked. Draco wondered why that name sounded familiar.

"Dobby very famous house elf, Master Harry Potter, sir. Very famous! Would Master Harry Potter like to speak to Dobby, sir?"

"There's no hurry, Jinkies, but yes, I would. Perhaps after tea?" Harry replied. With another *pop*, Jinkies disappeared.

"What'll you bet he gets Dobby before he gets our tea?" Harry muttered to himself.

"Who, besides being a house elf, is Dobby, and why would you ask for him?" Draco demanded, curiously.

"Jealous, Draco?" Harry asked facetiously. "I tricked your father into setting him free in my second year, here." He answered. "Since then, he's been hired to work here at Hogwarts."

Jinkies popped back in just then with a large tray laden with two plates stacked high with roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, plates of salad, pumpkin juice and apple tart for desert.

"That's a bit more than tea, Jinkies, but thank you. I'm hungry enough for it!" Harry said.

"Not bad" Draco remarked of the food "Not steak and lobster, but it will do. Dobby... Ah, yes. I remember. Lucius was in a high dudgeon about that for weeks. House elves are not cheap."

Harry and Draco started dining, and continued their conversation.

"They shouldn't be slaves, either, Draco."

"Why?"

"Why? I guess I shouldn't be surprised you ask that question. You grew up with it. Can't blame you, I guess, for not knowing any better." Harry replied absently, his mind on his food.

Annoyed, Draco retorted "I'm willing to listen, Potter, but so far you haven't said anything worth listening to!"

"Back to 'Potter' already, hm?" Harry mused out loud. "What do you know of how I was raised before Hogwarts, Draco?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Draco asked, getting peeved.

"If you'll answer the question, I'll tell you."

Fuming, Draco replied. "Everyone fawns over you all the time, Potter. Everyone loves 'The Great Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.' You probably had them eating out of your hands."

Harry shook his head sadly. "I was more like a house slave, Draco." he almost whispered. "My aunt and uncle hated me, my cousin beat me up on a regular basis, I never got enough to eat because Dudley, my cousin, stole my food most of the time, I had to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, and if I ever complained about anything, Uncle Vernon beat me himself."

Draco felt the truth of the words through their link, and despite his own upbringing, was shocked to his core. "But why didn't you owl someone? Someone would have stopped it."

"I didn't know anything about this world. No-one told me. My aunt and uncle denied magic existed, and I didn't know any better. I was told my parents had gotten drunk and died in a car crash. If there were ever any letters owled me, my aunt or uncle would have destroyed them, as they did the Hogwarts letters that were sent me. If Hagrid hadn't been sent for me personally, I might still not know about all this."

Light dawned in Draco's mind. "So that's why... That's why you acted so strange when we met."

Harry grinned wryly. "Well, that and the fact that you were acting like a stuck-up prig."

Draco shrugged. "It's the only way I knew how to act. The only way I was allowed to act. Lucius wouldn't accept anything else." He admitted. "You know, you and I aren't all that different where our caretakers were concerned. I was beaten quite a lot, too."

"You got beaten? And why do you call your father 'Lucius' instead of 'father' or 'dad'?" Harry asked.

"The man has never really been a father to me, Harry. Only someone who took care of my basic physical needs and used me as a pawn in his plans. He beat me whenever he felt I had failed my part, or the results were less than desired, even if it wasn't my fault." Draco said, ashamedly. He looked up at the green-eyed god beside him. "After you showed up, you were the reason of a lot of those beatings, Harry."

Harry looked stricken. "Not your fault, Harry!" Draco added quickly. "You didn't know. Please don't blame yourself! I admit I blamed you for a long time before I realized that it really wasn't your fault - or mine. The only one truly to blame was Lucius. Once he hears of this, of our bonding, he will either disown me or try to kill me. He will probably do so out of principle, but if he can get to you through it as well, that would just be a bonus. I've decided I'm not going back. I'd rather he chose to disown me, but I'm going to divorce myself from them and give up the family name. Maybe he'll leave me alone if I do that."

"But... family, Draco..." Harry protested weakly.

"Better no family than one like mine, Harry." Draco stated, softly.

"But you're always going on about family loyalty?"

"Lucius has long since voided any possibility of respect or loyalty from me, Harry. Obedience has just been from fear. Yes, I clung to family prestige; it was the only thing I had. But even that has soured. But I couldn't very well admit all that to anyone, could I? 'Put on a brave face and march forth like a Malfoy, Draco.'" the blonde ended, voice bitter as he parodied his father's words to him. "I don't want to die, Harry." he added quietly.

Harry put down his fork, which he'd forgotten awhile ago anyway, and quickly gathered Draco into his arms, trying to give comfort.

The fair-skinned boy stiffened, a momentary sneer crossing his face in automatic reflex, but then, realizing that Harry could feel what was really going on under the surface, he relaxed into the hug, returning it, and explained his reaction. "Malfoy's aren't supposed to show emotion other than superiority, anger or disdain, Harry. Lucius beat that lesson into me well. But it does hurt. You know that as well I do, I suppose. You've felt it, too."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." They both said at the same time, then Draco gave a strained little laugh while Harry just smiled faintly.

"Anyway," Harry said with a sigh, "that's why I don't like slavery. I know what it must feel like."

They sat holding each other for a while longer, taking mute comfort in the contact, absorbing what they'd learned about each other, then there was another *pop*. They separated, just keeping hold of each other's hand, and looked towards where the sound had come from.

"Is Dobby interrupting? Dobby could come back later. Dobby's a bad elf!" He grabbed the empty tray and started banging himself over the head with it.

"Dobby, don't!" Harry cried out, grabbing the tray away from the distraught house elf. "You're not interrupting! I'm glad you came!"

Dobby peered at the dark-haired boy. "Mister Harry Potter is sure?"

"Yes, Dobby, I'm sure." Harry smiled. "I was just wondering if you'd like to be our house elf instead of Jinkies. He's doing a very good job, so doesn't need to feel like he's failed, but I know you, and I'd like to have a friend helping out here. Plus, I can pay you since you're a free elf."

A wide grin split Dobby's face almost in half. "Mister Harry Potter thinks of Dobby as a friend? Dobby is so happy! And Mister Harry Potter wishes for Dobby to work for him?" The grin faded. "But Dobby works for Mister Dumbledore. Dobby doesn't want to leave Hogwarts." He was clearly being torn by this decision.

"I don't want you to leave Hogwarts, Dobby." said Harry, quickly reassuring the distraught house elf, who looked up, confused. "I just thought you might like to work for me, as well."

Dobby looked thoughful. "Dobby can't take pay from Mister Harry Potter for doing what Mister Dumbledore is paying Dobby to do." he said hesitantly.

It was Harry's turn to think. "Could you accept a present for doing very good work?" He asked.

"If Mister Harry Potter thought that this unworthy house elf did very good work, that would be present enough for Dobby, sir." Dobby replied.

"We'll see." Harry replied. "So could you trade jobs with Jinkies without his losing honor?"

"Yes, sir!" Dobby declared, his grin restored. "Dobby will explain friendship with Mister Harry Potter."

"Good! You can start with these dishes, if you would, then we're going to need help putting our things away. Is that okay?"

"Very okay, Mister Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby grinned, before going to work.

"And why is one house elf better than another, Harry?" Draco asked.

Harry grinned. "Dobby thinks he's indebted to me, so he's more likely to do favors for me than a house elf whose only loyalty is to Dumbledore and Hogwarts."

Draco looked puzzled. "So?"

"You don't want that steak?"

Draco grinned and gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek. Harry thought a smile looked much better on Draco's face than his habitual sneers, and though the kiss made him feel a little shy, it was also elating.

"Just treat him nicely, Draco. He doesn't have to do us any favors."

Draco frowned, thought it over, then grinned again. "It's worth it," he opined.

"There's an old Muggle saying, Draco: 'You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." Harry said.

"Why would I want to catch flies in the first place?"

Harry sighed.

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(1) In Great Britain, there is a small meal or snack served around four in the afternoon, usually consisting of the beverages and finger foods - sweet and/or savory. The evening meal is usually served between seven and eight o'clock.

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Chapter 6

Dumbledore arrived shortly after 6pm, with Professors McGonagall and Snape in tow. Harry sighed. He knew that he couldn't afford to get behind in his studies, but the break had been nice.

"Hello, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. Everything working out alright?"

Silence. A quite awkward one, this time. How do you tell your headmaster and two of your teachers just how well you're getting along? Let's just take a jog down this alley here, shall we? "Ah, we're - surviving each other, headmaster." Harry offered.

'Damn! Dumbledore's eyes are twinkling! Does he suspect?' Draco thought.

'Always a bad sign, when the old man's eyes start twinkling' Harry thought. 'Means he's planning something or knows something.'

"Good! Then we need to get your classes sorted out!" the Headmaster exclaimed. "You'll both need to be taking Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Medical Magic and Transfigurations. You can also take one of the following: Divination, Care and Feeding of Magical Creatures, Herbology or Arithmancy. Or we could offer you Animagus training." He'd thrown that last in there like it almost wasn't worth the trouble of mentioning, like it was nothing.

"Arith... What did you say?!" Draco almost shouted. "Animagus training, of course! Right, Potter?" His eyes said 'You'd better say yes, if you know what's good for your ass.'

Draco's enthusiasm was so out of character for him that Harry couldn't help teasing a bit. "Well, I was looking forward to Divination, again."

"Potter, you had best be joking." Draco said in a low, threatening growl.

Harry laughed, pleased with his success in baiting the other boy. "Of course I'm joking! Who'd pass up a chance at learning how to be an animagus?! And you'd have known I was joking if you'd just checked our link." Harry continued, chuckling.

Draco just glared, trying to be angry, but he was rather caught up in Harry's infectious humor, and just a bit embarrassed to have been caught out so easily.

After some bit of discussion and haggling between the five of them, a new schedule was worked out. Professor McGonagall would teach the Animagus class, of course.

During this discourse, Draco finally worked in the question that had been niggling at him. "Professor Snape: I've been told that you have been kept ignorant of the means of entering these rooms. As you are my House Master, and Professor McGonagall, the House Mistress of - Gryffindor - is privy to that information, I find myself rather incensed that this is so. I am also told that you have willingly submitted to this outrage. Is this so?"

"You really do know how to sound the total prat, don't you, Draco?" Snape replied.

To both boys surprise, there was just a hint of a smile on his face. Draco colored a little, but managed to maintain an air of dignity and superiority. He also kept silent, waiting an answer to his question.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, it's true. It is possible, given my associations," Draco gave a small start at that, not expecting his professor to come that close to admitting his association with Death Eaters. But Snape gave no notice, and continued "that I could be forced to disclose your location and help those who would be a danger to you - and Mr. Potter" he added reluctantly, "to gain access to you. In fact, for that very reason, I have insisted that I be subjected to 'Obliviate' after this meeting, to remove all knowledge of this place from my mind."

On hearing that, Snape went up several notches in Harry's estimation. He might be an obnoxious, opinionated, sour,... Well, enough of that. Harry could go on for an hour in that vein. The point was, he was also brave and honourable.

"I understand, Professor. And thank you." Draco said. "I take it you won't be coming back, then?"

"No. Homework, materials and finished potions can be taken back and forth by house elves. There should be no other reason for a return visit, and would just prove a danger for both of us."

Draco just nodded.

Dumbledore stepped into what could have become a very uncomfortable silence. "With your genes, it should prove quite interesting to see what kind of animagi you turn out to be." Dumbledore remarked, addressing both young men. "You won't be able to start that training until after your sixteenth birthdays and you've settled into your new abilities, of course."

"Why "of course", Headmaster?" inquired Draco.

"Until you have your new abilities under control, they might not mix well with other magics." the old man replied. "The house elves will bring your backlogged schoolwork to you tonight so you can start catching up, and will take your completed work to your teachers. This will continue until such time as you can rejoin your classmates without danger to them or yourselves."

"You've told us that we'd find the presence of others difficult to handle, Headmaster, and I must admit to a headache just now, but why would we be a danger to them?" Harry asked.

"Psychic discomfort isn't the only danger you'd be in from your peers - or anyone else who was in your vicinity, Mr. Potter. Or yours, Mr. Malfoy."

'Why does my name always come second when he addresses us?' Draco wondered with a trace of resentment.

"You will be emitting large clouds of pheromones to attract your mate."

Harry and Draco exchanged embarrassed, surreptitious glances.

"Which will, I'm afraid, incite more people than not to want to be sexually active with you - up to, and including rape. Your instinctual responses would probably protect you, but would probably also mean harm to those driven temporarily mad by lust."

"Really, Albus! Was that absolutely necessary? You couldn't have been a bit more - delicate?" the Transfigurations professor remonstrated.

"Reality must intrude, Minerva." Dumbledore replied. Then addressing the mortified young men before him again, he said "This is why you must stay in these rooms until your bond is consummated. The house elves are immune, so providing for food, laundry, et cetera will be no problem. Even if there were a problem with the house elves, we could provide meals in the same manner they are provided in the Great Hall."

At the mention of house elves, Harry was able to pull himself together enough to inform the silver-haired man before him "Sir, I have requested that Dobby replace Jinkies as our house elf. I know him and consider him a friend, so would prefer him to another. Dobby tells me that he can do so without making Jinkies feel inadequate or dishonoured, or I would not have insisted on it."

"Very thoughtful of you, Mr. Potter. I suppose that can be allowed." Dumbledore's eyes were a lot sharper than his voice as he said that. He hadn't been fooled at all.

"On to more important subjects: There are a few books, which we've put in the bookcase here, which you both should read, and the sooner the better. They detail what is known about the type of pairing you two will be going through. But I must say" Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling madly, "that you two are breaking records for a most unusual bonding. Most part-Veela bondings, even as rare as part-Veelas are, are with a human. That there are two of you, and that you have, albeit not consciously, chosen each other... Not to mention the Power Partner incident..." He was almost grinning.

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By bedtime they were able to be apart for anywhere from five to ten seconds at a time. A vast improvement, making getting ready for bed much easier.

Harry didn't wear the tops of his cheap cotton pyjamas - they had a tendency to twist and bind during his sleep, so he'd long ago stopped wearing them; which meant that there was a lot of skin for Draco's silk pyjama tops to brush against. Eventually, tentatively, Harry started petting Draco's back, enjoying the sensuous feel of the silk over the blonde's firm, muscular back. Draco, for his part, hadn't been, and wasn't, feeling all that confident in the situation either. Their earlier sex session had been completely spur of the moment, brought on by unbridled lust, with no thought involved. This was - different. This time, both knew of the possibility, but were entirely unsure of the reactions of the other. Neither was experienced, neither knew what to do or how to do it, or what the other might like or dislike. It didn't help that both had a tendency to over-think situations, given the chance to do so. So when Harry started rubbing Draco's back, Draco was relieved that the first step had been accomplished - contact had been made. Draco scooted a bit closer and put his hand on Harry's chest. They just lay there like that for a minute, then Draco slid his hand down Harry's side, and when that was accepted, put his arm around his new bedmate.

Without seeming will, their lips moved closer together, touched, and clung. When rejection wasn't forthcoming, they became more confident, lips met more firmly, tongues made tentative swipes at the other's lips, then gently slipped inside each other's mouth. As their passions roused, their hands moved more freely, exploring each other's body, tongues got more aggressive, wrestling, searching out secret places in mouths. Harry broke off just long enough to unbutton and remove Draco's pyjama top, then his lips, teeth and tongue began exploring Draco's ear, neck and shoulders. His hands moved freely over the Slytherin's pale skin, paying particular attention to the small, pink, yet evidently very sensitive nipples poised on his smoothly-muscled chest.

As Harry kissed the silvery-eyed boy, he rubbed a thumb over one delicate nipple. Draco caught his breath, arching his back to meet the touch. This broke the kiss, but Harry just moved his attentions to the now-exposed neck as he continued his ministrations to the sensitive nub of flesh. Harry was surprised. He'd never thought that a male's nipples could be a source of pleasure, but judging from the reactions he was getting, that was surely the case. Since he was already at Draco's neck, and curious about this new phenomenon, he let his lips drift downward, kissing and licking Draco's throat, then chest, until he arrived at his destination. He let his tongue lick over his ex-rival's now-erect nipple. Draco's hand suddenly pressing his head to the spot let him know he should continue. He did.

Harry's hands hadn't been idle during all of this, either. He'd run them through Draco's fine hair, explored the contours of the blonde's head, cheekbones, jaw, and ears, then across his shoulders, chest and stomach, then back again. Now, with his head on Draco's chest, his hands slowly slipped downward, to hips, round, firm buttocks, thighs, then slowly back up the legs to their joining, and moving his lips back to Draco's at the same time. As the side of his hand met the point where he couldn't move it any higher, in contact with Draco's now-hidden jewels, but not yet irrevocably committed to the next step, he stopped and rested it there, waiting for a reaction.

Draco's thoughts were chaotic, 'Harry's lips... Gods, Harry's lips; so soft, wet, electric. Mmmm... And oh, what his hands are doing to me. What are you doing? Why are you stopping?' Draco bucked his hips - just a fraction of an inch, but it gave permission - indeed, demanded more.

Sensing this, Harry allowed his hand to slide up the last couple of inches of Draco's thigh, then over his silk-covered hardness. Draco pushed himself into Harry's hand. Harry slid his hand up and down the other boy's twitching hardness a couple of times, then gave it a gentle squeeze.

Draco arched into the grip, groaning. A few other boys in the Slytherin dorms had experimented with mutual masturbation, and even group masturbation, but Draco had held himself above that, considering it beneath him. But now he wanted this - wanted to return the feelings he was getting. He threw himself at Harry, lips too violently colliding, bruising, teeth drawing just a taste of blood, but neither caring at the moment. Draco's hand leapt for Harry's groin, but even in his lustful enthusiasm he was worried about hurting. He didn't want to do anything to ruin this - to stop it. His voice throaty with passion, he asked "Is this okay?" His other meanings came through in the tones of his voice.

"Yes." Harry said breathlessly, before again seeking the blonde's lips. And then it wasn't enough. He wanted to feel skin. More skin against his own. Skin in his hands. Releasing his grip, he fumbled with the buttons on Draco's silk pyjamas, then, frustrated that he wasn't immediately successful, tore them open. He felt Draco doing something similar to him. Finally, rid of the cloth barriers, they again pressed their bodies together, their hands finding their targets between them; exploring, kneading, experiencing - then exploding at almost the same moment. Exhausted, they fell asleep within seconds.

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Harry was following a scent. A scent that resembled a mix of cinnamon, clove and vanilla. The scent of his mate. It filled his nostrils, his head, his whole being. Once found, he would court his mate until he was accepted, then they would physically mate, the completion of which would bond them irrevocably, making them mates for life. Ah! There was his mate!

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Harry woke up with that same scent filling the room, the source extremely close. His searching nose and eyes found it. Draco? As he gazed fondly upon the beautiful young man beside him, his dream came flooding back. The world started swimming, and then it went black.

Something cold and wet splashed in his face. Draco was leaning over him, looking concerned. Didn't add up. Draco? Concerned about him? "Wha' happen'?" Harry muttered. Then he caught that bewitching scent again. He reached for the blonde. "Mm... You smell great. Sexy." His arms wrapped around the concerned young man. Draco didn't respond, but didn't try to get away.

"You're delirious, Harry." Draco accused.

"Mm-mm. Don't think so. Kiss me?"

Draco hesitated, then did, before pulling back a bit. "You were unconscious, Harry. I couldn't get you to wake up! I think we should call Pomfrey."

"'M okay. What's that cologne you're wearing?"

Draco's face twisted in confusion. "I'm not wearing cologne." Then he giggled. "I'm not wearing anything, right now."

Sliding his hand down to Draco's naked flank, Harry confirmed that. "Nice arse."

Draco tinted slightly, but was oddly pleased that Harry appreciated his body. But why should it be so odd? He was proud of his body. Oh. They had that mating thing hanging over their heads. A 'have to' rather than a 'let it happen as it will.' That put a strain on things. But he wasn't going to think about that yet, or be put off by compliments. "You seem - different, this morning, Harry."

Harry screwed up his face in thought. "I had a strange dream last night. I was following a scent. Your scent."

Draco was a little offended. "We haven't had a chance to clean up yet, this morning! Don't blame me if I'm a little whiff."

"No, you don't understand, Draco! 'S nice! Wonderful scent." He sent what he meant over their link to him.

Draco paled a bit "Oh, gods, Harry."

The tone of voice yanked Harry out of the dreamy state he'd been in. "What?"

"I've read about this." Draco's voice was trembling a bit. He wasn't exactly afraid, but 'nervous' seemed a bit tame to describe his state. "Your birthday is really soon, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Just one more week. Why? And what's got you so upset?" Harry asked, reaching surreptitiously for his wand. If something was threatening Draco, he was going to take care of it.

"Remember our lesson on Veelas in 'Care and Feeding of Magical Creatures'?"

Harry realized that there probably was no outside threat, so put his wand back down, hoping Draco hadn't noticed him retrieving it. He concentrated. "I think I was in the infirmary that day. Sick."

"Oh. You haven't made up the assignment yet? That was weeks ago!" Draco's tone of voice sounded almost exactly like the distaff portion of the "The Golden Trio" when she remonstrated with Ron and him about keeping their grades up.

"Okay, Hermione, where's my boyfriend, and why did you take polyjuice to take his place?" Harry teased.

"This isn't funny, Harry!" Draco protested. "Anyway, Hagrid mentioned that part-Veelas find their potential mate by scent, and get very protective."

"You actually paid attention to Hagrid? What's the world coming to?" It was just a stalling tactic while he absorbed and dealt with this new information. "But it's not my birthday, yet." Harry said, taking the first step in dealing with what Draco was telling him.

Draco shook his head. "That's only when you come into your full inheritance. Part of it starts before then. This scent thing must be part of it. And what do you mean, 'boyfriend'?"

"Bit slow on the uptake, Draco?" Harry grinned "What else would you call us? But as for the part-Veela thing; won't the same thing happen to you?"

Draco decided to ignore the tease and the boyfriend issue, for now, and answered the second question. "Probably." Draco whispered. "But my birthday is weeks after yours." Then in a more normal tone of voice, and catching Harry's eyes with his own, he asked, "Do you think you can hold off until then?" He looked a little scared, although he hid most of it.

"I'll have to" Harry said, looking deep into Draco's eyes. "I won't force you. I can't. I just... I guess I just want to protect you."

Draco leaned his forehead against Harry's, relieved. "That's good. What I don't understand is why you were unconscious when I woke up."

Harry related the morning's brief events to him.

"I still think you should see Pomfrey, Harry. I'll worry about you if you don't." It was manipulative, but he was a Slytherin, and he was concerned.

Harry sighed, but somehow he didn't want to make the blonde young man uncomfortable. "Okay. After we shower and eat, okay? Or would you rather have another bath?"

"A shower would be faster, and I'm hungry." Draco replied.

As they were adjusting the water temperature in the shower, Harry decided to give Draco a surprise. He suddenly wanted to look nicer for his new boyfriend. "Just a second, Draco, I forgot something." He knew he only had a few seconds before he'd be needing contact again, so he ran into their bedroom ('Strange, how it's become our bedroom so soon.' Harry thought) grabbed his wand, and while running his other hand through his hair, incanted "Crines Incantatum Finitum", then ran back to the shower.

In the normal course of 'new boyfriend' relations, their shower should have been a more explorative version of the last one, but Draco didn't want to tempt Harry at this point, so he only allowed him to wash his back, then returned the favor. They got out, dried off, then went to get dressed, and brush their teeth and hair.

As they were doing this, Harry was thinking. He was confused, and a little hurt that Draco was holding back again, but he'd let it go. If it continued, he'd talk to his potential mate then. The thought brought him up short. 'Potential mate? I've actually gone there in my thinking?' He thought he should be not only upset with himself, but knew that a week ago he would have been disgusted with the thought. But now he'd seen beneath Draco's mask, and knew why he wore it. He knew that maybe it should have bothered him that he was thinking about another male as a potential mate, but it didn't. ' I wonder if that's what's bothering Draco?' He decided to ask him about it after breakfast. In the meantime, he had a surprise for the beautiful blonde.

Harry finished with everything else, then started carefully brushing his hair. When he was finished, he turned to look at Draco, who was still fussing over his own blonde locks. "You know, I've been seen your hair in pretty much every way it's been since we've been in these rooms. I think I prefer it loose. When you have it slicked back, you look like a git, and all that dressing makes my fingers greasy. Loose, it's much sexier."

Draco looked annoyed after this little speech. "That's the idea, Harry. I need to make people fear me! In the circles I have to associate with, if I'm seen as soft, I'll become a victim." Then his face softened as Harry's face fell. "But I'll wear it loose when it's just you and me. Okay?"

Harry smiled. "You know, you keep being nice to me, and I might just fall in love with you, after all."

Draco stiffened, reminded of things he didn't want to contemplate just yet. "That might not be a very good idea, Potter." he said coldly.

Harry was miffed. "What is it with you, today? You're running hot and cold!"

A tear slipped down Draco's cheek, despite his best efforts. "Have you forgotten Lucius, Harry? Or the other Deather Eaters?" Draco asked softly.

"You're not like that." Harry began.

"How do you know?!" Draco interrupted, yelling.

"Our link. Our bond." Harry said softly. "You may believe some of the same things, but I don't think you'd choose the same means to accomplish them. And I'm not even sure if you truly believe what you've been taught, or if you're just repeating them because you don't know the other side of the galleon. The way you behaved with Dobby tells me that you're willing to learn different things."

Draco just stared into Harry's emerald eyes, anger turning to disbelief, and then to wonder as he listened. "You... You listened to me? You watched me?"

"I have been ever since we met. I usually didn't like what I saw and heard, but I couldn't seem to help myself. Now you've told me the reasons for your actions, and I felt their truth." Harry said softly, willing the smaller man to accept his understanding.

Draco's eyes dropped, and his shoulders slumped.

"I'll do my very best to protect you, Draco, and so will others, if you'll let us." Silence. "Will you?" Harry prompted. Draco slowly raised his eyes to Harry's, and nodded. Harry knew that what Draco had just agreed to was a huge concession. He drew him into a close hug, and kissed his forehead. Draco's stomach growled. Draco turned a little pink, abashed by his body's betrayal. Harry laughed softly, and said "I think it's time for breakfast, don't you?"

Breakfast was pancakes with honey and butter, and bacon. Afterwards, they asked Dobby to tell Madam Pomfrey that they'd like to visit.

Draco was looking at Harry in puzzlement as they awaited word for when it would be convenient for them to drop by. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You're not wearing your glasses. And have you done something to your hair?"

"Do you like it?"

"You're... I don't know - gorgeous. You should really get your eyes fixed so you can stay like that."

Harry chuckled. "I did, a long time ago. Did it in secret. I'm glad you like it."

"Then why have you still been wearing them? Don't they interfere?"

"Protective coloration. Like a chameleon plant. They're just plain glass, unless someone else looks through them." Harry explained.

"And your hair?" Draco asked, running the fingers of one hand through it.

"Little mussing charm to keep my scar from showing." Harry admitted.

Draco frowned. "You wouldn't need a charm to hide your scar, Harry."

Harry grinned, embarrassed. "Okay, you caught me." His face grew serious. "I hate all the attention. I hate the fame. For what? Living? That's a huge accomplishment, that is. So I try to hide the scar. Stay anonymous."

The bitterness in Harry's tone as he voiced words that Draco had more or less said for years against him, shocked Draco. He admitted aloud that he'd been saying the same thing about Harry for years. To his surprise, Harry laughed. "Well, I guess we think alike on some things then, don't we, prat?"

The affection in Harry's voice took the sting out of the words, and Draco grinned at the green-eyed young man next him. "Quiet, git." Draco responded, in the same vein. "Anyway, I really like the new look. It suits you."

Madam Pomfrey, when she showed up outside their door in person, had much the same opinion. Then she got down to business. "Trouble?" the mediwitch asked.

"Um. No, not really." Harry said, surprised by her presence in their rooms. He'd never heard of Poppy Pomfrey visiting patients elsewhere than the infirmary or the Quidditch pitch unless it was an emergency.

"Harry was unconscious this morning when I woke up." Draco contradicted.

The mediwitch frowned. "I assume you know the difference between 'asleep' and 'unconscious', so all I'm going to ask is how long, and why?"

"I don't know how long." Draco replied. "Like I said, he was unconscious when I woke up. At first, I assumed he was asleep, but when I tried to wake him, he didn't even move. After about fifteen minutes, I threw some water in his face, and he woke up. When I asked him what had happened..." He turned to the raven-haired lad beside him. "Harry? You want to tell her?"

Harry shrugged. "I woke up smelling Draco. When I realized it was him, I passed out."

"Very complimentary, Harry." Draco drawled.

Harry looked vaguely shamed. "Sorry, Draco. Didn't mean for it to sound like that." Turning back to Madam Pomfrey, he explained. "It wasn't a bad smell. It was rather spicy and sweet. Still is." he said, grinning at the Slytherin before looking back to the mediwitch. "I don't know why I blacked out after I realized it was coming from Draco. It's a very nice scent."

The mediwitch looked thoughtful. "Have you read the books that were left here for you?"

"No, but Draco told me that it might be that I was just picking up on the scent of my potential mate. He's been acting a bit strange since then." Harry answered.

"It's not every day that you find yourself the sex object of a part-Veela, Harry." Draco said, sharply.

"I thought that might be it." Harry said to the young blonde man. "I'm sorry. It's not something I can control. I just hope when it's your turn, it's my scent."

"Considering what started this whole thing, it should be, Mr. Potter." Poppy interjected.

Pretending that he hadn't heard her, Harry continued. "If it's any consolation, I don't look at you as a sex object, Draco. I've grown very fond of you over the past few days. If I knew what love was, I might be able to say that I love you. But I've never been in love before, so I don't know."

Harry's laying his emotions out, naked on the table as it were, touched Draco deeply, despite his new-found resolve of just an hour ago not to be pushed into anything. "I... I... Damn it, Potter!" His eyes were brimming. "Why?" The question wasn't why Harry didn't know if he loved him, it was more. Why me. What do you see in me. What do you want from me. What can I give you. How. Why.

"Madam Pomfrey? Could you leave, please?" Harry requested, not looking away from the young man facing him. "We'll read the books."

The mediwitch blinked, looked from Harry to Draco, then a look of understanding came into her eyes. "Of course, Mr. Potter. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask." Moments later, they were alone.

"Why did you do that?" Draco asked Harry.

"I didn't think you'd want anyone to see you cry." Harry replied.

"I'm not going to cry! A Malfoy isn't weak enough to cry!" Draco protested, just before the first tear trickled down his cheek. Suddenly, he found Harry's arms around him, and he buried his face in the Gryffindor's chest, so the tears wouldn't be seen. And, perhaps, said a faint voice in the back of his mind, for some comfort from the confusion he was feeling. This was, after all, a brand-new experience for him. He'd never been loved before.

"Tears aren't weak, Draco. Sometimes they're the only things that can heal."

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Chapter 7

A week later, both young men were much more comfortable with their budding relationship. Their link/bond had stayed about the same, but their non-contact time had expanded to about ten minutes. They had come to recognize the slight unease that occurred before contact became a necessity, and had also expanded their repertoire of casual touch; brushing fingertips, stroking a cheek, a quick, light kiss - these were all that was needed to renew their comfort level.

Not to say that all was peaceful and happy all the time. Their world-views differed greatly enough that they had their share of arguments, but they never descended into the nastiness that had once prevailed. Nor did they always reach agreement. And when their emotions reached high enough levels, their link would start echoing their emotional states back and forth, causing confusion and weakness. They soon learned to stop their arguments before things got that far.

They had also read the books pertinent to themselves and their situation, and had gotten caught up on their schoolwork. There was even a bonus; they were helping each other in those scholastic areas where they were weak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tomorrow's your birthday, Harry." Draco remarked quietly.

Harry swallowed. "I know." His voice was almost hoarse with strain. "If I could, I'd sleep on the couch without my wand and have you lock the doors. As it is, I think you should be ready to cast Petrificus Totalis on me in case I do something stupid. I'm still going to give you my wand until I can trust myself - and you can trust me."

"I'd like to trust you, Harry, but not knowing what's going to happen scares me." Draco had come a long way in a very short time in being able to admit his feelings, especially the "weak" ones - at least, to Harry.

"Like I've said, you have a very good instinct for survival. Not that I think I could hurt you; at least not intentionally." Harry smiled weakly at the Slytherin.

Everyone who knew where they were, dropped in on them that day to check up on them. Madam Pomfrey was the last to leave, after doing a thorough medical exam on both of them.

"Bloody hell!" Harry sighed. "They don't half know how to pile on the stress, do they? It's not like I don't have enough to worry about, right? I have to deal with all these stupid reassurances that everything's going to be alright, and nobody knows for sure!"

"You're not the only one, you know, Harry." Draco said, quietly.

Harry turned around, stricken, and pulled the blonde young man into his arms. "Oh, Draco, I'm sorry for being selfish. You even have to fear me."

"I'm not afraid of you, Harry. Just nervous. And if you can't control yourself, I'll deal with it. I'd rather we meet on this as equals, though, since that's possible."

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"How do you feel about me? We've never talked about it."

Draco pulled away, and went to sit on the divan. Harry followed, but left space between them as a sign of respect for the moment. "You can't feel it?" Draco asked.

"I don't want to pry. I haven't 'looked'."

Draco sighed. "Even less than you, Harry, I don't know. All I've ever really known is duty, anger and fear. Any bit of happiness I felt was always because I thought I'd proven myself superior to someone. Now that I look back on it, it seems like it was always a nasty kind of happiness." He looked up into Harry's eyes. "I don't know what I'm feeling for you, Harry. I know it's strong, but I don't know what it is."

"Can you describe it?"

Draco seemed to find something fascinating in his lap as he began to speak. "Well, it's not like my heart leaps for joy whenever I look at you, but I feel... Happy, I guess. Peaceful, and - safe. Most of the time, anyway." Draco shot Harry a sly grin, then sobering, looked back to his lap. "Sometimes I just want to pull you into me when we hug." An involuntary picture came into Harry's mind, and Draco caught it. "No! Not like that! Not in a sexual way." he said, half in a panic. Then "Well, sometimes, but I don't think I'm ready to go that far, yet." He admitted shyly. "But I meant... I can't find the words. Do you know how rare that is for me, Harry? Anyway, at other times, I just want to choke the living shite out of you." Draco couldn't restrain a little smirk as he said that. "And then you look at me with those beautiful, emerald green eyes of yours, and I, well, kind of melt."

Harry reached over and tilted Draco's chin up. Looking into Draco's silvery eyes, he said "Draco, if that isn't love, it's the next best thing. That's a lot like I feel about you, too." He smirked. "Looks like we still haven't completely gotten over our four-year-old bad habit, if we still want to kill each other at times."

He paused. "You really think I've got beautiful eyes?"

Draco gave him a little petulant, yet playful, shove, then sobering, added "Harry, it feels so hard. Love is supposed to be easy, isn't it?"

"You're asking me?" Harry asked with a self-deprecating laugh. "I don't know, Draco. In a very short time, you've become more important to me than anyone I can think of. But Dumbledore said it was all there to begin with, just that we'd twisted it. I think he might be right, but it feels so strange to be talking love with you now, when we were at each other's throats less than two weeks ago."

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "And now we're supposed to mate. I don't mind that so much, anymore. I just wish..."

"I know." Harry said, and lightly kissed his forehead.

They spent the rest of the day in a state of moody anticipation and worry, wrapped up in each other's arms for comfort.

That night, they went to bed fully clothed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry woke. It was too hot. Sweat soaked his clothes and rolled off his brow, and his whole body felt like one huge bruise. He groaned. Draco didn't look like he was sleeping peacefully, either. Not surprising, considering their emotional link. With Harry's groan, Draco stirred, and reached over with his other hand to caress the sweaty young man once, but didn't wake. Harry decided not to wake his bedmate, but he couldn't take the heat. He stripped, but it didn't seem to help much. The heat and aching, although very uncomfortable, didn't seem to merit medical attention, though, so he determined to just wait it out. After what seemed like hours, and may well have been, the ache eased, as did the feeling of overweening heat, and he dropped into the deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Harry? Harry! Wake up!"

Harry woke fairly easily, compared to his regular waking routine. To say that he wasn't much of a morning person would be an understatement. "Hm? What's the matter, Draco? You sound frantic." He couldn't figure out why Draco would be acting like this, as he couldn't sense anyone else in the vicinity; except for Nearly Headless Nick, and he was about two rooms away to the west. But he was harmless.

In the face of his intended's emotional state, the observation itself went unnoticed by him - a fact that would have him wondering about his sanity, later, to overlook something like that.

The look on Draco's face was a strange one; a mixture of wonder, awe, a bit of lust, and more than a little bit of anxiety. "Harry, you've changed!"

"Yes, I know. I've got feelings for the son of one of my biggest enemies." Harry teased.

"No, Harry, I mean you've changed!" said Draco, almost frantically. He decided to ignore the 'enemy' bit. After all, it was true.

Harry frowned. "What are you on about? I don't feel any differently... Well, a little better than usual. A lot better than usual, now that I'm taking notice."

Draco thought briefly, then decided showing would do more good than any amount of explaining would. "Come on. Let's go to the loo."

"Why didn't you just say you needed to use the facilities?" Harry asked. "We've both done that for the other before."

Giving this familiar stranger a withering look, but without answering, Draco tried to pull Harry along, but unexpectedly found that he wasn't going anywhere. Harry was puzzled by the look he'd just received, was looking quizically at the blonde, and wasn't budging. To Draco, he seemed somehow more - solid, than the day before. "I want you to look in the mirror!" he explained. At that, Harry gave a mental shrug and decided to humor his silver-eyed love.

When Harry looked at himself in the mirror, it was like looking at an idealized painting of himself, because that was not the Harry Potter that had gone to bed the night before. His body, his entire self, was, somehow - better. It was essentially the same body he'd had last night, maybe an inch or two taller, but somehow more refined, more finely sculpted. His muscles were more defined, tighter, but also sleeker. The planes of his body now seemed to almost flow from one to the other, giving the overall impression of being dangerously, beautifully, feral.

He was also very hungry, but right now curiousity won out over physical needs, although "curiousity" was an extremely mild word to describe what Harry was feeling.

There were a few other changes as well. His skin was finer, smoother, paler, his normal deep tan from all of his hours of forced garden work at the Dursley's now much lightened, and his calouses were gone. His hair was longer, halfway to his shoulders. He kind of liked the look, but it was a bit ragged, and would need to be trimmed. Other than that, his eyebrows, eyelashes, and a patch of pubic hair were all the dark hair he had left, and was of an almost silky texture. It seemed even darker than before, almost as though it had depth. All the other coarse hair his body had been developing, as most boys his age did, was gone; his longer, darker leg and arm hairs, the few that had been developing on his lower stomach and chest, all gone. All the other body hair left was the very fine hair that even a seven-year-old has on his skin. Even his downy beginnings of a beard had gone. His penis had lengthened slightly and was rounder, less wrinkled in its flaccid state, his scrotum fuller, hung lower, and his testicles heavier. These were the more obvious changes.

One of the less obvious changes was Harry's eyes. As he and Draco would learn over time, they changed colour with his moods; all shades of green, sometimes mixed with various shades of gold, and when angry, red. They glowed with an inner light that was hard to see unless it was dark or you were looking for it, or more brightly, as he was to learn later, when his emotions ran strongly, especially when angry.

Now that he was a bit more awake, he noticed that his vision was sharper; almost too sharp. He was seeing everything with so much detail that everything seemed somewhat surreal. He could hear Draco's breathing - short, shallow breaths, his heart beating a bit too fast, even the blood in his larger arteries. They needed showers, Harry decided. The sharp scent of Draco's anxiety was distressing him, especially as there seemed to be little cause for it, and he, himself, was still covered with an acrid-smelling dried sweat.

It was at that point that Harry stopped in shocked realization, eyes widening, nostrils flaring slightly, as he took stock of what had just occurred. "Draco, I think I need to sit down." He sat on the edge of the tub.

"Are you okay? I mean, other than..." Draco gulped. "Harry?"

With his newly-awakened senses, he knew what Draco was asking. "I'm still Harry, my love. Just, it seems, a new and improved Harry. I'm in a bit of shock." He continued, explaining what he had just noticed about himself.

Draco listened intently, but one of the things Harry had said was waving a huge red flag at him. Harry had just handed Draco another emotional shock. "Did you just call me - 'my love,' Harry?" he asked, weakly.

Harry swiftly rose and turned to the blonde, his movements as graceful as a snake's or a big cat's, catching up his intended before Draco could run, or his knees buckle - either of which was a good possibility at the moment. Such a revelation would normally have been handled with aplomb by the blonde, but on top of everything else that had happened in the last couple of weeks, and especially that morning, he was in emotional overload. Harry sat again, pulling Draco down onto his lap. Draco just sat there, back straight, one hand on Harry's shoulder, eyes wide, staring into his concerned, jade green eyes.

"I guess that's something else that's changed," Harry chuckled ruefully. "I know what I'm feeling, and especially how I feel about you." He could sense that Draco was in shock, but the chaos in the young man's mind made it impossible to tell how he was feeling otherwise. Their ability to sense each other's moods and occasional mental pictures wasn't a constant anyway, they had found. It ebbed and flowed, rather like an ocean tide, but more unpredictably. He frowned a bit, uncertain. "You don't mind, do you?"

Draco, still in shock, couldn't answer verbally, at first. He shook his head, 'no'. "I... No... I mean... I don't know." He shook his head to clear it. "No. No, I don't mind..." to his annoyance, he felt tears filling his eyes, then slowly trickling down his cheeks. Angry at himself, not understanding why he was crying, he brutally wiped the tears from his face. He quickly changed the subject "Shite. Here's you starkers, and me on your lap, fully dressed. Funny looking picture we'd present, eh?"

Harry allowed the diversion, happy that he hadn't been pushed away and that Draco was coping. "And here's me showing how happy I am with the situation." Harry teased.

Draco quickly glanced down, somehow knowing to what Harry was referring. He blanched slightly at the sight of a fair-bit larger tool on Harry than the one he'd enjoyed before, then blushed. "Well, some things just don't change, do they, Harry?" he teased back in self-defense "You're still a pillock!" They laughed together, then an awkward silence developed.

"We should probably get Madam Pomfrey up here, Harry." Draco said, breaking the tension.

"I'm surprised that everyone who knows hasn't been here, already." Harry remarked. "I'm feeling fine, though, so we can call Poppy later, after we've showered and eaten."

"That's true." then as a thought occurred to him, Draco delicately suggested "You don't think that, well... They might be thinking that - we..." Draco could talk the talk and discuss others sexual activities as though it were no more than discussing the mating habits of animals, but when it came to reality, and his own situation, he found himself floundering in waters too deep for his comprehension.

Harry caught on. "That we might be mating?" Draco, blushing violently, nodded. "It could be. I wouldn't put it past Dumbledore, at least. And if I scented that you were ready, we probably would be."

One shock on top of another. "You can - smell - that kind of thing now?"

"It seems so, yes" Standing up, he dumped Draco on the floor. "And speaking of smells, I need a shower. After sleeping in your clothes, you probably do, too."

"In other words, you know I do." Draco commented as he climbed off the floor, rubbing his sore backside. Harry didn't say anything, just continued to adjust the water temperature, so Draco started getting undressed. "You won't... You know...?"

"I'm not an animal, Draco. I can control myself, at least until your scent is right. After that, I don't know. You read the same books I did."

Draco nodded, then another realization hit him. "Hold on! How were you able to dump me on my arse without feeling it yourself?"

Harry's eyes widened a bit in thought. "Good question. Maybe because you deserve to be dumped on your arse, for past crimes against Gryffindors?" he teased.

That was too much. Draco slapped Harry's biceps, enough to sting (not wanting to feel anything worse himself) - and didn't feel it. He almost cheered, stopped himself, then decided to anyway. "Hurrah! I'm cured! I didn't feel it!" he laughed.

Harry laughed too, then snaked an arm around Draco's waist and pulled him into the shower.

"Harry!" Draco complained "I've still got my trousers on!"

"I know. Serves you right, you little git." Harry chuckled, kissed Draco soundly, then finished undressing him, himself. After throwing the soaking garments out of the shower, he pulled the blonde to him and kissed him, then frowned as he didn't get a response, other than the initial one of pale hands and forearms passively-aggressively pressed flat against his chest, keeping a couple of inches of space between them. "What's wrong, Draco?"

"You said you wouldn't..." Draco stalled in mid-sentence.

Understanding dawned. "Draco, I won't. But does that mean we can't do any of the things we've already done? I can't hurt you, and for me, forcing you to be intimate with me constitutes harm. All you have to do is tell me to stop when you get uncomfortable with anything we're doing. Can you trust me on that?"

Draco looked into gold-flecked green eyes, and there he saw nothing but truth and sincerity. Slowly, he nodded. "Yes, I think I truly can." he said, with wonder in his voice.

Harry slowly lowered his lips to his blonde lover's, and this time the gentle kiss was returned; tentatively at first, and then with interest. Draco's hands slipped from Harry's chest to his hips, then around Harry's back, pulling him closer. But this was a whole new Harry, and Draco couldn't keep his hands from wandering, exploring his lover's new body.

Just as things were getting interesting, Harry took hold of Draco's shoulders and gently pushed him away. Panting slightly, he looked into Draco's slightly hurt and confused eyes and said "Let's dry off and finish this where we can be more comfortable, okay?"

Reassured, Draco only smiled and nodded.

They dried each other, and though Draco was in a hurry, Harry took his time, delicately toweling every square inch of the Slytherin's body dry. It was driving Draco mad, and Harry knew it.

"Harry! Please!"

"Please what, Draco?"

"You know! Hurry!"

"But what's the rush, sweetheart?"

"Harry!!!" He paused. "Sweetheart? Harry, that's so sappy!" He paused again. "I rather like it." He grinned. Harry smothered it with a kiss as he rose to his feet. When they came up for air, Draco added "But if you ever call me anything like that in public, I'll have to kill you." Harry responded by nibbling on the smaller man's ear, making Draco forget what they were talking about.

Harry swept Draco up in his arms, making him gasp in surprise, then carried him into the bedroom and dropped him on his back on the bed. Before Draco could recover from the shock of that, Harry had covered Draco's nude body with his own, and burrowed into the fair-skinned young man's neck, attacking with lips, tongue and teeth, overloading Draco's pleasure centers. All Draco could do was moan and thrash about weakly a bit. Harry kissed and licked his way down Draco's chest to those sensitive nipples he'd already discovered once, licking, biting, sucking and blowing on first one, then the other, and leaving one blonde young man totally brainless for a period of seconds, his mind trying desperately to catch up with the sensations he was experiencing.

When Harry left his nipples, Draco moaning a bit in both disappointment and relief, only to relish the feelings Harry was giving him from exploring his ribs, armpits and stomach, stopping a bit to swirl his tongue in Draco's navel. Draco was so dazed with passion, he hardly noticed that Harry was moving even further down until his cheek brushed Draco's leaking cock.

"H-harry? What are you - OH!" as Harry licked the tip of the cock his cheek had brushed, then ran his lips down one side, to lick and explore Draco's scrotum, then sucked in his balls, one at a time, then back up, to take the head in his mouth, tongue exploring every surface, every detail, as Draco tried his best not to scream in pleasure, back arching, trying to thrust, to get more, then screaming out the name of his pleasurer anyway. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Harry allowed Draco to thrust into his mouth, but the first thrust went too far back into his throat, taking him entirely by surprise, and causing him to gag. He took a little more control over the rest by wrapping a couple of fingers around the base of Draco's manhood, preventing further such occurrences. It only took three or four more thrusts before Draco tried to warn him of his impending climax, yelling "Oh! Harry! I'm..." as Draco's seed exploded into his mouth. At the same time, Draco had been holding fast to Harry's hair, unaware, in his passion, that his intent and actions were at odds. Harry had swallowed it, having little other choice, but, surprised at himself, didn't find it in the least unpleasant - a little salty, a little bitter, but - somehow - tasty. Maybe it was just because it was delivered and received in love.

Draco relaxed, and Harry let Draco's member slip from his mouth, moving up to lay next to his lover, but not-yet-mate. Draco turned his head, looking at Harry, somewhat shamed. "Harry, I'm sorry, I tried to tell..."

Harry put a finger over Draco's lips, silencing him, then kissed him deeply, tongue flicking in and about Draco's mouth, inadvertently sharing the taste of Draco's seed with him. Draco's eyes widened a bit at the taste, but didn't object, closing his eyes and relaxing into the kiss. Harry laid back, and Draco, intending to return the favor as soon as he'd recovered a bit, laid his head on Harry's shoulder, just cuddling.

Minutes later, they were both asleep.

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When they woke up late that morning, both were wearing very fatuous smiles, as they gazed at each other, then a small frown crossed Draco's face.

"Draco? What's wrong?" Harry asked, softly

"I'm sorry, Harry." Draco said.

"For what?"

"You must have a terrible case of blue balls. I fell asleep before..."

"Sh... It's alright. I'm fine." Then Harry chuckled. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd apologize for anything, Draco, let alone for thinking you had been selfish." He put his fingertips over Draco's mouth, forestalling protest. "Giving you pleasure gave me pleasure. Have you forgotten our emotional link again already?"

"I guess I was being selfish; it never even occurred to me. What you did to me! Where did you learn that?" Draco asked in wonder.

"Well, some of it I was winging as we went, but I got some hints from a Muggle porn magazine. It was about a man and a woman, but I guess that stuff can work between two guys, too." Harry chuckled.

"You have no idea. Let me show you!" Draco said, eagerly.

Harry sat up, easily pushing his lover back onto his back, leaned over, and gave him a deep, steamy kiss. "That's a promise for tonight, okay? As tasty as you were last night, I'm hungry, and we'll probably have everyone who didn't come by yesterday here soon."

Draco blushed at the "tasty" comment, but agreed, and soon they were showering and getting ready to start another day.

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Chapter Eight

The world outside their rooms hadn't stood still all that time. Ron and Hermione had become more and more persistent, trying to learn anything they could about their best friend's whereabouts; and, in Ron's mind at least, what Malfoy may be doing to him. Questions were fobbed off with "Mr. Potter is in no danger and is quite well, but needs his privacy," or variations thereon. Questions about Malfoy didn't do any better. They'd tried following the Headmaster and a few of the teachers, but it seemed the people they were following didn't know anything, knew they were being followed so went somewhere innocuous or, like Dumbledore, had an annoying habit of losing them.

For all Ron or Hermione knew, Harry could be doing "quite well" in a dungeon cell somewhere, and it was driving them mad with worry, as ridiculous as they thought the notion was; well, probably was. They couldn't even use Harry's Marauder's Map, because that had been in Harry's trunk, which was gone, and supposedly was with Harry.

Eventually, Dumbledore called them to his office; an appointment the next day at 2:30pm.

When they got to the appointed place outside the gargoyle statue, Ron and Hermione were stuck. They didn't know the password, and no-one was there to meet them. At 2:37, the gargoyle slid aside, and Dumbledore invited them in. After arriving in the office proper and being seated, the Headmaster asked his first question. "Do you know why you're here?"

Ron just looked like he'd eaten a chocolate frog that was trying to crawl out again. Hermione was more self-contained. "I assume it's because we've been trying to find Harry," she said.

"And putting him in danger by doing so," Dumbledore said, sternly. Hermione imitated Ron's chocolate frog impression, while Ron turned white, his freckles standing out like Muggle connect-the-dots puzzles. "I had hoped that by letting you be, you'd eventually accept the situation, but since you have not seen fit to do so, I have had to take this action."

"Harry's in danger?" Ron squeaked.

"If we can keep him hidden, no, but the two of you are not making that easy. Worse, you are keeping Harry and the younger Mr. Malfoy in people's thoughts, making them wonder where they are, and why they're not in their classes or dorms," Dumbledore said.

Ron was again struck dumb. Hermione found her tongue. "We just want to know that he's alright. He's our friend!"

"I realize that, Miss Granger. But you are not helping matters."

"I'm sorry, Headmaster, but if you had let us know, and let us see that Harry's alright..." She didn't finish the thought, but it was out on the table, anyway. She continued on, a little more gently, "We have proven in the past to be able to keep secrets, Headmaster."

Eyes twinkling a little, Dumbledore said, equally gently, "Well, Miss Granger, at least you have. I'm afraid that Mr. Weasley, here, has been a bit, shall we say - impetuous? - and let information slip from time to time."

Ron turned seven shades of red at this all-too-accurate remark. "I was provoked!" he exclaimed, in his own defense.

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. "Is that how you would excuse Harry's death, Mr. Weasley? "I let the information slip because I was provoked"?"

"I wouldn't!" Ron said, panic-stricken.

"Not on purpose, I think, but with your past history, can you blame me for not taking that chance?"

"We want to see Harry, Headmaster," Hermione interjected. "We need to know that he's alright, not take someone's - even your - word for it."

"I don't think it's a good idea. The next few weeks are critical. After that, certainly," the headmaster replied.

"Critical?! Then something did go wrong with the Power Partner potion?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"It's connected with what happened with that potion," Dumbledore replied. Not a complete lie, but far from the truth. "In the meantime," he said, raising his voice to drown out their incipient demands for more information, "you can best keep your friend safe by dropping this matter. Don't even talk about it after you leave my office. When it is safe, I assure you I will take you to Mr. Potter."

Unsatisfied, but knowing that was the best they were going to get, they agreed not to keep asking questions "...but only to keep Harry safe".

After leaving the office, Hermione's face became the picture of stubborn determination. "I have some research to do, Ron. We're going to find Harry."

Ron looked at his girlfriend, perplexed. "We can't do that, 'Mione! We just promised Dumbledore we wouldn't!"

"I don't know what you promised, Ronald Weasley, but all I promised is that I'd stop asking questions. That leaves a whole library of other options. I'm going to make sure Harry's alright. Are you coming?"

Ron grinned, shook his head at her in admiration, and eagerly followed after. He didn't like to study, but with this kind of spice added to it, it might be interesting.

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Madam Pomfrey showed up with a mask over her face. "Why the mask, Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked.

"It's spelled to block the pheromones you're now producing," she replied.

That triggered another thought; another question. "Then shouldn't Draco be..." He couldn't find a way to finish the question without totally embarrassing himself, but Pomfrey understood what he was trying to get at.

"Normally, yes. But as a part-Veela, he has an in-built immunity, at least until he's experienced his own 'inheritance.'" she said.

At Harry's quizzical look, she clarified. "As a full, sexually mature human, Mr. Malfoy would, indeed, be subject to the effects of your pheromones, but as a sexually immature Veela, if only in part, he is immune. The young of any species are immune to the sexual stimuli of the adults, Mr. Potter."

Harry was embarrassed by this frank discussion, but at the same time, Poppy Pomfrey had just handed him some great teasing material to use on his love.

Her medical examination had shown that, besides the visible changes and the ones Harry had discovered thus far, the Gryffindor was now about three times stronger than he had been, with a stronger skeletal structure to match. He was far more agile, his lungs, heart and other organs far more efficient, and he could taste the slightest differences between two almost identical things (one large-ish grain of salt was added to one of two glasses of pumpkin juice). His magic potential was over twice what it had been, even taking into account his Power Partner bonding with Draco, and two factors had the potential to change that again - Draco's genetic inheritance, yet to take place, which would add significantly to their Power Partner bonding, and their potential mating, which was an entirely unknown factor.

How high their magic potential could go was a matter of some deliberation among those in the know. Besides Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey, the other teachers had to be told something to account for Draco and Harry's absence, and Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, had to be told some of the situation when he showed up unexpectedly to visit his godson. Fortunately, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy ran true to form; not even an owled note, but that would change as the holidays drew close. The Malfoy's were sticklers for tradition, whatever their personal feelings might be. They had until then to generate and implement a plan.

Another topic was how much of Harry's new self was due to the trace of vampire in his heritage. It was generally thought that about two-thirds of his new strength, about half of his physical condition, the sensitive tastebuds, and the dark hair, of his physical attributes, were probably due to the inclusion of the vampire genes. They were very relieved that there hadn't been enough to make fangs and blood hunger real possibilities. Harry wouldn't have to be transferred to another school - one that taught the children of other types of magical creatures, including the undead. If that had happened, Draco Malfoy would have had to go with his bonded mate-to-be. Hogwarts could handle part-veelas, although it was somewhat of a delicate task during their maturation and certain times of the year afterward. Fortunately, as rare as part-veelas were, it was an even more rare occurrence for one to choose to attend their school. And now they had two. Of course, Draco Malfoy's colouring should have been a dead giveaway, but who would have guessed that "The Boy Who Lived" was one as well? But vampires with blood hunger were too much of a risk to be among the other children, so they were happy to have dodged that spell.

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Over the next few weeks, Harry and Draco got back into a routine. Wake up, shower, breakfast, lessons, dinner, more lessons, tea, spell practice, supper, homework and free time, then bed, but not necessarily to sleep right away. Of course, being who they were, they didn't stick strictly to that schedule, and if one were a fly on the wall, one could find them snogging or otherwise intimately engaged at almost any time. And, of course, they had to slip out late at night to get in some flying time. The outdoors activity didn't go unnoticed by their protectors, but as long as the young men in question were discreet and fairly quiet, they let it slide. Young people needed their exercise, after all.

Harry had spent some of that time just discovering and exploring his new abilities. Although he didn't inform anyone of everything he discovered, he practiced with these quite often as well. Of course, because of their link, he couldn't keep anything completely from Draco, but between them they had found ways of keeping some semblance of privacy. Even the closest of people need their own private space, and they were still working on developing their relationship - finding out all about each other. Of course, some of those times were far more pleasurable than others, but painful or pleasurable, they shared as they were able, and tried to respect it when one or the other needed private space in their minds.

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As Draco's sixteenth birthday drew nearer, he grew more irritable, and his arguments with Harry grew ever more ridiculous, once even carping over how much preserves Harry put on his toast. Finally, Harry's patience came to an end when Draco accused him of kissing too hard, then too gently.

"Alright, Draco, what the bloody hell is wrong with you! You won't talk to me, and you've even started blocking me from our bond!"

"Who says there's any-bloody-thing wrong except you!" Draco retorted.

Side-stepping that, Harry quietly but fiercely said "I would be willing to bet that it has a lot to do with our mating. We've done everything else, and once your genetic inheritance triggers your change... I haven't put enough thought into that, but it's obvious you have."

"The light dawns, eh, Potter?" Draco sneered.

"That was beneath you, Draco," Harry replied gently, feeling hurt.

Draco's face flushed with shame. "I... I'm sorry, Harry. I'm just - so - scared. I don't know what's supposed to happen! Will it hurt?"

Harry gathered Draco into his arms before replying. "Like I said, Draco, I haven't put enough thought into it. I don't know. Maybe we should call Madam Pomfrey?"

"NO! Gods, no, Harry! A woman?"

"It's going to be very difficult to ask anyone, love. Better someone who knows the medical end of it, right?"

Draco pulled away slightly, arms still wrapped around his lover, to look him in the face. "Was that a deliberate pun, Harry?"

Harry blushed fiercely as he realized what he'd said, then shook his head 'no' before burying it in the crook of Draco's neck.

Draco chuckled. Well, at least he was in a somewhat better mood, now. "I guess you're right. Better a medical person than someone who might not know all the facts. You're going to be doing the talking, though, git."

Harry mumbled into Draco's neck "Call Dobby, he can carry the message."

Draco had found a few listening spells in place in the rooms shortly after they'd moved in, and had taken them down. Harry had teasingly said that 'only a Slytherin' would be so paranoid as to check for such spells in a room that had been provided to keep them safe. He had gone on to shock Draco by congratulating him. When Dumbledore had shown up minutes later, in a panic that "the boys" had been attacked, he had been incensed to find that the spells had been removed. Draco, with Harry backing him up, had declared that they would not be spied upon as though they were two-year-olds. After a long argument, Harry and Draco had agreed to a summoning spell that only Dobby could hear, or one of the other house elves, should Dobby be unable to respond. The elves would be able to summon help if needed.

When Madam Pomfrey arrived, Harry explained, with much stammering and hesitation, face blazing, what the problem was; they knew they were going to need to mate, but didn't know how to go about it. Poppy smiled gently, then went over to their bookcase and retrieved a slender volume entitled "Sex for the Rest of Us: What the Gay Wizard Needs to Know." If it would have been possible, Harry and Draco both would have turned to ashes right then and there from the heat of their embarrassment. They could have saved themselves any embarrassment at all, simply by searching their bookcase! Of course the adults would have thought of those questions! Harry thanked her, Draco half-hiding behind him and holding Harry's hand, even though it was no longer a necessity.

This Draco was a definite keeper, in Harry's opinion, even if he'd had more of a choice. This side of Draco was so adorable. It was too bad he went so far in the other direction when others were around. It crossed Harry's mind, briefly, that perhaps he could teach Draco some moderation "out there." But there were more important matters at hand. They had some reading to do. Madam Pomfrey had asked if there were anything else they needed to know, and then if they were both feeling okay, that there hadn't been any "odd" feelings or anything, and when there wasn't, she departed.

They laid on the floor side by side, and started reading. A few hours later, the young men had devoured all the information the book had to offer. Some of what it had to say they had discovered on their own, but they were shocked to learn how much they didn't know! There were subjects such as erogenous zones, the importance of cleanliness, sexual positions and techniques, how to make intercourse its most enjoyable, especially the first time, spells to avoid and cure sexual diseases, and so much more. They just lay on their stomachs with the now-closed book in front of them, silent, absorbing all they'd learned. When they finally looked at each other, they found that, with their new knowledge, their shyness with each other had returned, but also a determination to try some of the things mentioned in the book, short of actually mating. That would wait upon its proper time; when both were ready for it.

Even though they no longer needed to, Harry and Draco had become used to showering, and even taking the occasional bath, together. That night, they washed each other more thoroughly than ever before, taking the book's advice to heart. Harry had been considering the information they'd read, especially about male intercourse. After they were in bed, cuddling each other, Harry broached the subject. "Draco?"

"Hm?" Draco responded, while toying with a strand of Harry's raven locks.

"Do you think we should, you know, start getting each other loosened up? So when it's time, we'll be more ready?" He felt Draco tense up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound so - sterile. I meant during the course of our other enjoyment of each other. When we're loving each other... Damn! I'm just digging myself a deeper grave, aren't I?" Harry said, frustrated.

He felt Draco relax a bit as he let out a low, rather strained laugh. "Yes. Just a bit." He was silent for a minute, thinking, then said "You're right. It did sound rather cold, the way you said it, but I'm glad you thought to try to talk about it, and not just try to do it. I am rather curious about that arse gland that's supposed to feel so bloody wonderful, though. What's it called again? Do you recall?"

Harry frowned. "Prosite? No, that doesn't sound right. Prophate? Prostate? I think that's it. Maybe we should look it up again."

Draco shook his head. "No, I remember now. That's it."

"So, you want to - experiment?" Harry asked shyly.

"You know, thinking about it, it sounds so bloody wrong," Draco said.

"Yes, I know," Harry replied quietly. "Rather twisted. So do the other things we've done. But when we do them, they just feel right. It doesn't make sense. So do you want to stop?"

"I didn't say that. I just - don't want to talk about it any more. That just confuses me," Draco replied.

"So... We just - what? Do what feels right and not think about it?"

Draco sighed, frowned, and said "I suppose so. Rather feels like sneaking around on myself, though."

Harry couldn't help it. Draco sounded so lost and confused, yet that last sentence provoked a mental image he just had to snort at amusedly. But, knowing that feeling well, and on the same subject matter as well as others, he did the only thing he could think of - he tightened his arms around his love and kissed him; a soft, non-demanding kiss, meant to reassure. Draco sighed again, this time in contentment. They stayed that way until they fell asleep; sex forgotten, for this night at least, but their plan of action was put in force with great frequency after that.

A week later, Draco finally decided that he wasn't going to be ravished in his sleep, and decided to take a chance, returning Harry's wand. Although hurt that it had taken even that long, Harry was so happy when the moment arrived that it precipitated quite a hot and heavy snog session.

Chapter 9

Could I have this dance for the rest of my life? Would you be my partner every night? When we're together, it feels so right. Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?*

No matter how lovingly devoted to each other two people are (and Harry and Draco had yet to reach that level of devoted commitment, sex and deep affection notwithstanding), friends and other outside contacts are a necessity to mental and emotional health. Unfortunately, the only outside contacts Harry and Draco were having were with old people who weren't all that interesting to begin with, and who made nothing but demands upon them besides. It didn't help that they had also taken to wearing pieces of cloth on their faces, that Harry knew were used as surgical masks in the Muggle world. But these were ensorcelled to mask out Veela pheromones, allowing their elders to visit without being overcome with lust. So now the young people didn't even have other faces to look at - such as they were.

In short, they were craving the company of people their own age, and with their own interests. When they brought this up to Dumbledore, though, they were told that any such visits would have to await their final bonding, as mates, on the pretext that they or their friends could be endangered until then. A thin excuse, and one with many holes in the logic, given the masks, but Dumbledore wouldn't be swayed. (What is he? Oh, yes: A secretive, manipulative old [fill in your favorite epithet]. May we add 'mule-headed'?)

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It was that time; the eve before Draco's sixteenth birthday. 'Veela Inheritance Day,' as Draco was now thinking of it: Otherwise known as 'The Day Every-bloody-thing Changes.' Poppy Pomfrey had just finished checking Draco's status, and returned to the hospital wing. Sometime tonight, Draco would achieve his genetic inheritance. At the moment, Draco was curled up on Harry's lap, scared and miserable. Yes, he'd seen the results of Harry's transformation, and it was, for all practical purposes, quite subtle, but that was no guarantee for himself. After all, Harry had received two genetic inheritances, although the Vampire influence seemed to have been almost negligible. They might have influenced each other, though; had to have, to some extent, in fact. Draco had only one, and it would have free reign.

They didn't bother with any of the precautions they had taken with Harry. After all, Harry could look after himself, now. But Harry did cuddle Draco, spooned up behind him, while they fell asleep.

Harry was awakened by Draco's squirming and moans. He remembered how he'd felt during his own transformation, so tried to move back, so Draco wouldn't have his, Harry's, weight pressing on Draco's pain-wracked body. But that movement woke Draco, who grabbed his lover's arm and begged him to stay close, to hold him. Harry did so, planting soft kisses on Draco's cheek and forehead from time to time while he watched in fascinated horror and wonder as Draco's body underwent its changes.

When Draco's transformations were complete, he was a wonder to behold. While he had been a beautiful boy before, now he was almost ethereal. More slender and gracile than before - a dancer's body, to Harry's swimmer's build; hair much longer and thicker, features more delicate and effeminate while still being entirely masculine, and Harry could feel that the muscles below Draco's more finely-textured and hairless skin were much more dense and tight; less so than his own, but not by much, and still impressive. In short, he looked as delicate as a flower, while probably having the strength and endurance of three men. Anyone who underestimated Harry's lover would be in for a rude awakening.

Draco's eyes fluttered open. "The pain is gone. Is it over, Harry?"

"If it's anything like mine, I think so, love," Harry said, kissing Draco's brow.

"Am I...? Did it...?"

Harry understood. "You're beautiful. You were gorgeous before, but now..." Harry started climbing out of bed, keeping hold of Draco's hand. "Come on. It'll probably blow your ego even more out of proportion that it was before, but you have to see this."

"Harry!" Draco complained "Don't tease. I'm scared."

Harry dragged his newly-transformed love into the bathing room, stood him before the mirror, and stepped behind him to hold him around the waist.

"My hair's a mess!" were the first words out of Draco's mouth.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "So look at the rest of the package, my love." he whispered in the blonde's ear.

Draco's eyes got wider and wider as he looked at himself. "I look like a bloody girl!" he finally said.

"With that package?" Harry retorted, reaching around and weighing genitals that were just as impressive as his own in the palm of his hand. "I don't think so, dear." Harry retorted. "And look, no great lumps of fat on your chest; just my favourite, lickable buttons."

Draco blushed, and was quite pleased with the compliment. His new looks were going to take some getting used to, but his lover was pleased, and that was a good start towards self-acceptance. He was starting to feel quite fatigued. Still, first things first. "I need to shower. I won't go back to bed all sweaty and sticky."

"How many showers a day do you want to take, Draco? 'Cause I plan to get you all sweaty and sticky quite often."

"Harry!!" Draco cried, scandalized. Still, he didn't look all that upset.

Harry only grinned, and went to turn on the shower. They usually had a little sex play in the shower, mostly manual, but tonight Draco didn't have the energy - it had all gone into his changes. Draco washed his new mane of hair carefully, and Harry took care of the rest of him. While certain naughty bits showed interest, there wasn't enough energy to carry through, so a few hugs and tender kisses sufficed. They finished bathing, dried off, and went back to bed. Within minutes, Draco was sound asleep. Harry was fighting the mating urge, but it wasn't too strong, yet. He could resist, and would until Draco was ready. He turned away so Draco's scent wasn't filling his nostrils and enticing him quite so strongly, and urged himself to sleep.

The next morning, Draco woke up to a combined scent of patchouli, cinnamon and musk; Harry's scent, he knew. Evidently he'd picked it up before his senses had been enhanced, but hadn't consciously noticed it. Not only was it much stronger now, it was also - intoxicating. It excited every nerve ending in his body; making his head swim. Draco was already clinging to Harry as though he were a second skin; something that must have happened in his sleep. But it wasn't close enough for the blonde Slytherin. He kissed Harry's neck, then started licking and nibbling at it with his lips - every bit he could reach without moving from his present position. Suddenly he knew that Harry was awake - and teasing him by not moving. He nipped - hard - with his teeth.

Harry yelped and jumped away, rubbing his neck. "What was that for?!" he complained, turning around and facing his mate-to-be.

"Serves you right, ignoring me," Draco pouted.

"I was just lost in the sensations you were giving me, love," Harry said, trying to placate his intended.

"Well, then, come here and share!" Draco demanded.

Harry's senses were subtly trying to tell him something. Well, that wasn't quite accurate - they were screaming at him, and had been. It had taken all of his control to not move when he'd awakened to Draco's ministrations. His mate was ready to complete their bond.

Trembling in his attempts to control himself, Harry slid over to the blonde, bent, and claimed Draco's lips, their arms embracing each other as they did so. Their tongues dueling, their hands wandering over each other, first gently, easily, then increasingly needy, almost desperate as control slipped. Harry's lips left Draco's, much to the Slytherin's disappointment, only to be sent into ecstacy as those same lips sucked and licked at his earlobes and neck, as their hips ground into each other.

"Harry?" Draco murmured. He got no response, as his neck continued to be ravaged.

"Harry!" Still quietly, but stronger.

"Hm?"

'Finally!' "Take me, Harry?"

Harry knew his lover was ready, but needed to ask, to reassure himself. Raising his head and looking into silver-irised eyes, he asked. "Are you sure?"

Draco gazed into soft, luminous, dark-green eyes; eyes you could drown in, and nodded. "I need us to be one," he whispered.

They had been preparing for this moment for weeks, since shortly after reading "Sex for the Rest of Us," putting all the necessary supplies in the drawer of a small bedside table. Until now, they had gone unused, unneeded. Harry took out the small bottle of oil, the scent of which they had picked out together, and put it on the tabletop.

Draco raised his legs, and put them on Harry's shoulders. Harry stroked his lover's body, first up his arms, then up and down his torso, stopping to play with both of Draco's nipples, then down again, avoiding the lovely arrowhead-tipped shaft, up the thighs draped over his shoulders, then down to Draco's firm bubble-buns. He couldn't resist the urge to run his fingers up and down the cleft that hid the treasure that was about to be given to him, and was surprised to find his lover already oiled and loose. He didn't know when Draco could have prepared himself for him, but he'd been occupied, so assumed Draco had done it surreptitiously during that time, forgetting, in his aroused state, that he'd just taken the oil out of the drawer himself.

A soft silvery-gold glow slowly developed, and enveloped them as they prepared to consummate their love, but neither noticed.

Harry positioned himself, then thought better of it. For this, it would be better if both participated. "Guide me?" he asked.

Draco reached back, took hold of his lover's cock, and guided it to his opening. "Slowly, my love," he requested. He continued to hold onto Harry's member until it was firmly, if not completely, imbedded in him. But contrary to "Sex for the Rest of Us," there was no initial pain needing a wait for muscles to adjust and relax, no feeling of full bowels needing to be emptied, both of which the book said should be expected the first few times they had intercourse. Yes, he was feeling stretched and filled, but it only gave him pleasure, and a feeling of being completed. He thrust himself onto his lover, taking him completely into himself.

The glow got stronger.

Harry was startled by this move, terrified that Draco would hurt himself, but there was no look of pain, or even discomfort, on his lover's face. He let Draco's legs slide off his shoulders, catching them in the crooks of his elbows, allowing him to get closer, to lean over and kiss his lover, and imbed every fraction of an inch of himself into Draco's channel. When he got the signal from Draco to continue, and he was sure that his love was alright, he pulled out about halfway, and thrust slowly back in, watching Draco's face closely for signs of discomfort or displeasure as he did so, then repeated the action, over and over, becoming more at ease with the situation, getting more aggressive, kissing, nibbling, taking Draco's skin between his teeth, but not biting; just teasing at it. And Draco was thrusting back at him, just as eager, just as needy, as Harry climbed to his climax. But he didn't touch Draco's manhood, nor did he let Draco do so himself; not out of any sense of meanness or torture, but because he had plans that required that member to be erect and ready - not spent. He eventually had to resort to holding Draco's hands over his head while he showered kisses down upon his protesting, begging lips, while they thrust almost savagely at each other.

Then, to Draco's surprise, a warm, tense feeling began deep within him. It was similar to the pre-orgasmic tension he'd felt many times before, but had nothing to do with his sexual organs. That feeling kept getting warmer and tighter, then Harry's thrusts started getting a bit ragged, and Draco knew he'd soon be filled with more of Harry. That knowledge brought that warm feeling to bursting point, and as Harry thrust deeply one last time, and froze while he pumped his love deep into Draco, that warm spot burst, flooding his body with intense waves of shuddering pleasure that, while including his genitals, did not involve them.

The glow would have been hard to look at, if anyone had been watching.

Harry only rested a minute above, and in, his mate before gently extricating himself, leaning forward to place a long, lingering kiss on his love's lips. While doing so, he lowered Draco's legs, moving his own legs from the inside to the outside of the blonde's, moved up, grasped Draco's cock, and, without thinking, lowered himself onto it. As he felt it starting to slide in, it hit him that he hadn't physically prepared himself for this, yet everything was going as it should, and even better, as he discovered the same thing Draco had earlier.

Draco had felt a sense of loss as his lover pulled out, and then pleased surprise as Harry gave himself to him, and immediately forgave his mate for not letting him have his release earlier. Now he understood why. What surprised him was that Harry was still quite erect, even after that amazing performance.

During this maneuvering, Harry and Draco had become aware that something else was happening other than their love-making, as they noticed the strong glow, but assumed that it was all a part of their bonding. It didn't distract them in the least.

The glow started to condense around the mating couple, adding strong hints of other colours, some of which had yet to be discovered.

The movements began again, but soon Draco found the need to have more control, so with a few whispered words, and Harry's cooperation, they managed to change positions without becoming uncoupled, although not without a bit of clumsy awkwardness and shared giggles. Once comfortably adjusted, they smiled at each other, kissing and nuzzling each other while they again built up the mood.

Harry whispered in Draco's ear, telling him he was ready for more. And he got it. Draco, as Harry had done earlier, started off slowly, but Harry wasn't in any mood for slow and gentle, despite this being his first time. He urged his lover on, faster, harder; their inexperience causing them to go off-angle from time to time, which, to Harry's surprise, occasionally caused unexpectedly strong pleasure surges. 'Probably that "prosta-thingy",' Harry thought fleetingly, before another surge hit him.

The glow was now so strong, and so tightly condensed around the boys, that they looked like two figures making love who were made entirely of shimmering, coruscating sun-stuff, the other colours also stronger.

Harry noticed a warm, tense feeling building deep inside himself. As with Draco, when they compared notes later, it kept growing stronger.

As Draco neared his release, the glow settled under their skins, and as Draco released his seed violently into Harry, and the warm tenseness Harry had been feeling exploded, filling him with an orgasmic bliss, the glow faded from view. The energy it encompassed didn't dissipate; rather, it infused every cell of Harry and Draco's beings.

The mating alone had completed the bonding. The effects of that, and what the glow meant, would be discovered later.

0x01 graphic

* Lyrics from "Could I Have This Dance" sung by Anne Murray Words and Music by Wayland Holyfield and Bob House

Chapter 10

Harry and Draco woke slowly, wrapped around each other. They started their day by gazing deeply into each other's eyes, but peripheral vision told them something was different. Upon looking around, they were slightly disoriented. This was not their rooms. 'The infirmary, I think.' Harry thought.

'The white walls would be a dead giveaway, wouldn't they?' Draco thought back.

'Yes, they would.' Harry agreed. Then 'Draco? I'm hearing you, but I don't think we're talking. At least, I'm not hearing my own voice when I'm speaking with you.'

'You're in love with the sound of your own voice?' Draco asked, mocking him fondly.

'Hilarious, lover-boy. D'you think we should let someone know we're awake?'

'The sooner the better. I'd like to get us back to our own rooms so I can ravage you again.'

'Who was ravaging whom?' Harry teased.

Draco opted for vocal communication. "It was mutual?"

"Damn straight, as the Americans would say."

"Straight? Gods, I hope not. I was just becoming used to you!" Draco teased.

Harry growled at his mate and lover, and attacked his neck, much to Draco's delight. The blonde started stroking Harry's back, then stopped, frowning.

"You're right," Harry said, "hospital pyjamas are a long way from what I'd like to be touching, as well. But they're a good reminder that we're not in our own rooms. I don't think I'm ready for an audience while we pleasure each other." Harry considered a moment. "Only one thing for it, then," he said. Draco agreed.

"Oy! Madam Pomfrey!" they yelled, together.

The mediwitch bustled into the room. "No need to shout, or be rude," she said. "Now, how are you feeling?"

"Hungry!" they said in unison.

"Quite reasonably, too. Two days out of it, you were. Oh, not to worry, lads," she added as she saw their expressions, "you're just fine, and as far as I could find, there wasn't anything wrong with you to begin with. I know it's rather a delicate subject, but did you have a particularly, er, intense bonding?"

Harry quickly consulted Draco via their newly-acquired mental communication, then answered for them both. "We don't have anything to measure it against, but it was extremely intense for us, yes."

'I can't "hear" her, Harry; only you.'

Harry concentrated, and found the same was true for himself. 'Maybe it only works between us; because of our bond?'

"It's possible that your bodies just needed to adjust to the bond, then. But you were saying you were hungry?"

At the young men's vociferous assent, Madam Pomfrey laughed, and called out "Dobby?!" The little elf popped in, focused on the mediwitch, but as soon as he saw Harry and Draco, he started fawning over them. "Mister Harry, Mister Draco! Dobby so happy you okay! Dobby so worried when young masters not wake up!"

"Dobby is the one who alerted us to your condition," Poppy said. Then, to Dobby, "But we don't want to talk about all of that right now, do we?" Poppy reprimanded. Dobby cringed a little, but nodded agreement. "The Misters Potter and Malfoy would like some breakfast, Dobby."

"But..." Dobby started to protest.

"Breakfast, Dobby. It just means the first meal of the day. Two plates, juice, and toast." Poppy looked at the two young men appraisingly. "And it might be best if you stayed within earshot. I think they'll want more than one plateful."

"Hold on a minute, please, Dobby," Harry requested. "I think Draco and I would like to ask you and Madam Pomfrey a few questions, first."

Poppy turned back to her patients, only to find them sitting up on the bed, regarding her rather intensely. "Yes?" she inquired.

"Information, Madam Pomfrey," Draco stated. "No more secrets regarding us. Start with how we got here and why, then what you've found out since."

"The headmaster will answer..."

"I'm sorry, Poppy, but any information Dumbledore has, he got from you. Why would we want it second-hand?" Harry asked. 'I don't like this. Dumbledore is a manipulative old git, and slippery as anything.'

'Harry! Don't tell me you're getting wise in your old age?' the blonde teased.

'I've known about him for a while, now. That's why I tread carefully when I'm "following orders." And,' he admitted, 'why I sometimes get into trouble. I don't trust him. Him more than most other adults, but that's not saying much. I love Sirius, and like Lupin, and I guess I trust them, at least as far as my safety goes, but I don't trust any of them to not keep secrets from me. That's about it insofar as the adults go. How about you?'

'Snape, I suppose. That's about it. Otherwise, it's just you. I'm not sure if I can trust any of the people I used to call friends, especially now.'

'I know what you mean. I think I can trust Hermione, though. I love Ron like a brother, but he's got some real issues, and I don't think I could trust him to back me up right now. I don't think he'd do anything to hurt me, or get me hurt, physically, but while Hermione has always been there for me, Ron has freaked out on me from time to time. And I'm almost certain that what has happened to, and between us, will prove to be a freak-out thing for him.'

'An understatement, I think. And Granger won't freak?'

'She'll adjust rather quickly, anyway. She loves puzzles and solving problems, and I think she'll see us as one huge puzzle!' Harry 'said', grinning.

'I never knew that about the Weas- about Weasley. I thought he was a better friend to you than that. I'm sorry. I'm not going to give him any slack, though, if he does freak out on you, substitute brother or not. But I'll try to give the Mu- Granger, a chance.'

Harry laughed, proud that his lover had censored himself - not once, but twice - and gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, much to Draco's embarrassment. "Really, Harry! Not in public, please!"

Harry just grinned, and nuzzled his mate's neck, then became aware that Pomfrey was looking at them strangely, and dimly recalled her voice while he'd been privately conversing with Draco. Had she been talking to them?

Turning to the woman, he said "I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey. I'm afraid my thoughts were elsewhere."

Draco coughed, trying to hide his sudden laughter. 'Harry!' he remonstrated.

"I believe you were about to tell us our situation, or what you know of it?" Harry prompted, grinning.

"No, Mr. Potter, I was not, and am not. You will have to wait until the headmaster can fill you in," Pomfrey replied.

Harry was suddenly angry. The accumulation of years worth of frustration from being kept ignorant of matters that directly concerned himself suddenly came to a head. He caught Madam Pomfrey's eyes with his own, and commanded "You will tell us what you know of our situation, and now!"

'Harry! Let her go! Now!'

'What are you talking about, "Let her go"? I'm not doing anything to her!'

'Break eye contact, Harry, before you hurt her. Please!'

The tone of Draco's mental voice got through to him, and Harry looked at his mate, still annoyed, but he could not deny him. 'I wasn't hurting her, Draco. I'm just tired of these incessant secrets!'

"Look at her now, Harry," Draco said, gently.

Harry looked, and gasped. Pomfrey had slumped almost bonelessly to the floor. "What... What happened?!"

"My guess is that your Noble Vampire genes were stronger than anyone thought. When you got angry, your eyes glowed red, Harry! I read a little bit about vampires when I was younger. If I were to guess, I'd say you have at least one of their mental powers - coercion."

"Like 'Imperius'?" Harry asked, horrified.

"Not so totally, but a little bit, yes. I think we should get her onto a bed, don't you?"

Harry looked guilt-stricken, but nodded, and finding his wand on the nightstand, cast "Mobilicorpus!" But nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again. A few sparks came out of the end of his wand, and Madam Pomfrey's body seemed to rise a bit, but then subsided. A feeling of panic rising in him, but trying to remain calm, he said "Draco?"

Draco had watched Harry try to use a spell that he'd mastered long ago, and fail, much to his own shock. Harry was, or had been, one of the strongest wizards in Britain, even at his young age. At Harry's half-spoken query/request, he stepped forward to take care of Madam Pomfrey himself - with fewer results. Draco's magic had always been a constant in his life. To say he felt lost would be a vast understatement. A gaping chasm suddenly opening under him would have provided less anxiety.

"Mister Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby made his presence known, a strange look on his face.

"Dobby! By the gods, but you gave me a start! I forgot you were here!" Harry exclaimed. "Could you request Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout come to the infirmary, please? And ask one of your co-workers to bring Draco and me some breakfast, along with large mugs of hot chocolate?" Harry requested.

"Yes, sir, Master Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby. But before he left to do so, he did something both boys found very strange. Standing straighter than they had ever seen a house-elf do, head high, Dobby went to one knee, sweeping his arms wide before him, and bowing his head. "As milord commands," he added, getting back to his feet, and disappearing with a *pop*.

Eyes wide, Harry and Draco stared at where the house elf had been, then at each other. 'Too much strangeness.' they thought at each other. 'Well, before magic, was muscle, and I'd say we both have enough strength, eh? Harry 'said.' And suiting action to thought, he picked up the mediwitch as though she were a two-year-old child, and gently deposited her in an empty bed.

No sooner had he done so, than two house-elves popped in with large trays; one with platters of fried ham, eggs, bacon, kippers, sausages, scones and toast, the other laden with coffee, tea, pumpkin juice, sweet clotted cream, marmalade, butter, the requested hot chocolate, and other luxuries. "Where would the masters like their meal?" asked one.

Pleased with the relatively luxurious meal being offered, Draco motioned them to another empty bed. The firm mattress would provide little danger of liquids containers tipping over, unless bumped. The elves carefully placed the trays where indicated, then backed away from the boys, made the same obeisance Dobby had shown them, said "It is a pleasure to serve the masters," and popped out.

"What the bloody hell is going on?!" Harry all but yelled.

"A question I'm sure we'd all like answered, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said from the direction of the door, as he strode into the room.

"Harry, is that you?!" came Ron's voice from behind Dumbledore, much to the old man's startled surprise.

"Mr. Weasley! Miss Granger! I thought you'd agreed not to pursue Mr. Potter's whereabouts!"

"No, Headmaster, we merely agreed not to keep asking other people questions about where Harry was or might be," Hermione contradicted, while both she and Ron pushed past him. But as soon as Harry's best friends saw him, they stopped dead in their tracks, staring.

Since they were there, Dumbledore decided to stand back and let them have their reunion. 'This should prove - entertaining, at the very least,' he thought.

"Just a moment, Ron," Harry said. "Headmaster, there's something wrong with Madam Pomfrey. Could you see to her, please?"

"Practicing your leadership skills, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked, wryly amused. Harry blushed lightly, but turned back to his friends instead of answering.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron said, awe evident in his voice "You just have to remember what you did differently with your potion - we'll be rolling in it!"

Hermione's initial reaction was much the same as Ron's, but from the look on her face, Harry thought she was coming to some quite different conclusions. Better he break the news. "Draco and I were just sitting down to breakfast. If you haven't eaten yet, you're welcome to join us. We can talk as we eat."

Ron replied enthusiastically. "It's past dinner, but yeah, sure, mate. You know me, Harry, I can always fit... "Draco?" Since when are you calling that ponsy git by his given name, Harry?"

Harry put out his arm automatically, stopping his mate from going after his friend. 'I told you he'd probably be difficult, Draco. Please let me handle him.'

'If you don't handle him, I will. Friend or not, I will not stand to be insulted!'

'He's been a good friend, Draco, but you're more important, now. I won't allow him to besmirch your honour, either. Your honour is my own. Somewhat mollified, Draco settled down, but didn't step back. That might have been seen as a retreat.

Harry saw movement out of the corner of his eye. It looked like Madam Pomfrey was coming around, under Dumbledore's ministrations. Good. He hoped he hadn't damaged her.

Calmly reaching for some toast and the marmalade, and pleased to see Draco following his example by starting to load a plate, Harry asked "Have you ever heard of part-Veela's, Ron?" At the question, Harry saw a look of triumph cross Hermione's face. She'd figured at least a part of the answer, though Harry thought, mischievously, she'd still be in for some surprises.

Ron's face turned red. "Is that it? Is Malfoy some sort of - "

"Don't say something we'll both be sorry for, Ron!" Harry interrupted, sharply, then continued, to Ron's shocked face. "It turns out that Draco and I are both part-Veela."

Ron's eyes got huge at that, mouth working like a guppy's. From the look on Hermione's face, Harry surmised they'd reached 'Surprise number one.'

"There was nothing wrong with my Power Partner potion, or Draco's. And I don't think our genetics would have made a difference in how it worked. Hermione: During the lesson, and since the incident, I'm sure you've done a lot of research on it and the kinds of bondings it can find?" Hermione nodded. "Did you find one called a "Light of Heaven" bonding?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open slightly, and her eyes got huge. 'Surprise number two,' Harry thought triumphantly. "Yes, I did. But that's so rare! It's almost myth! Is that what happened?"

Harry nodded. Ron looked confused. "You want to explain it to Ron? I don't think he's heard of it. I hadn't either until it happened to me - us," Harry laughed, correcting himself, and sending an apologetic look to his mate. "I hadn't even heard of that potion until that week!"

Draco handed the filled plate to Harry, then started to fill one for himself. Harry was a little surprised, but recognized the gesture for what it was - a show of solidarity in the face of opposition. "Thank you, Drake."

'Drake?' Draco queried.

'I hope you don't mind, love. I thought a familiarity that wasn't too sweet might drive the point home without having to use a hammer. And as I recall, you threatened to have to kill me if I used anything too "sappy" in front of others.'

'So I did. Please - carry on.' A smile that was very close to a smirk was playing across the blonde's lips.

By that time, Hermione had filled Ron in. Ron was looking more than a little green around the gills. Harry couldn't resist. "Sausage?" offering a particularly greasy specimen.

Ron shook his head 'no,' violently. Harry smirked.

"Harry! That wasn't nice!" Hermione snapped.

"Perhaps not, but neither was the insult to my mate," Harry said quietly.

"I thought I was your best friend, Harry?!" Ron complained.

"You are my best friend, Ron. Draco is my bonded mate. Do you understand the difference?"

Ron turned white, looked between the two young men a couple of times, turned to Hermione for help, and fainted. She caught him just before his head would have hit the hospital bed's low headboard, managing to lower him gently to the floor. She was showing more than a little shock, as well. 'Surprise number three,' Harry thought.

"Thank you, 'Mione. I'd hate to see Ron get hurt. But while we're doing "True Confessions," here, I do have a correction to make to what I was saying to Ron. I wouldn't want to say it while he could hear, but while Ron is my oldest friend, he hasn't always supported me when I needed it as you have. Thank you."

Hermione understood what wasn't being said, and blushed, a silly grin on her face, then remembered herself. "And how about how you're treating Ron?"

Harry shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving Hermione's. "Ron's going to have to learn to live with the situation. Unfortunately, while I love both of you dearly, Draco and I have a lot of things of our own to deal with, and as my mate, he has to come first in my priorities. From little things I've noticed about the two of you, I think you'll be able to help each other out quite well."

"Harry, have you been listening to yourself? That doesn't sound like you at all!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry grinned. "I guess it doesn't, does it?" Then the grin slid from his face, and he continued in a serious tone of voice. "But I've had to do a lot of growing up in the last few weeks, 'Mione."

"Something here doesn't make sense. You're keeping things from me, aren't you?"

Harry nodded, soberly. "Things I don't even begin to know how to explain, 'Mione, so it's not purposeful. This is all too new." Harry smiled again. "Now, would you like to wake up your boyfriend, or is he less trouble like that?"

"Enervate" incanted a male voice, and a light struck the supine redhead. Dumbledore. He'd been exceptionally patient, for him, but now the headmaster was again making his presence known.

"Harry?" came a plaintive voice from the floor. "Tell me it was all just a..." They heard a heavy sigh. "No, you still look like a god, and the git still looks like an angel. I guess it wasn't a dream, after all," Ron mourned. "Bollocks."

"Just as long as you remember that I'm the only one allowed to worship at his altar, Weasley," Draco drawled.

Harry blushed, then sniggered as Ron sputtered.

"My, but the carrot-top has a dirty mind, Harry. He figured out what I was saying right away!" the blonde said, snickering.

"If the deity, his minion, and worshippers can spare an old man a few minutes?" Dumbledore said, dryly.

Harry had had enough. "Only if the old man is through playing chess with the deity in question, Headmaster. I'm tired of being used without knowing what the bloody hell is going on."

"Is that what you think I've been doing, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, Headmaster, that's what I know you've been doing; what I've known since my second year, here." Harry replied, tiredly. "With the help of Sirius and a few others, I've pieced together most of my history. I don't know why you placed me with those lunatic people after my parents died, nor why you never checked up on me to see how I was faring, but I know that Death Eaters killed my parents, and I know that the spell that killed them was also supposed to have killed me, but was deflected somehow. I also know that those responsible were never punished. But I've decided that I can't live for revenge. I've gone along with your plans for me up until now out of respect, a sense of duty, and nothing else to do with my life. But it's not just me that would suffer any more. Now I have a mate I need to think of, and a future to plan with him."

A strangled sound came from the floor. "Get off the floor, Ron. If you're still feeling unbalanced, there are chairs," Harry said, not unkindly.

Turning back to the stunned headmaster, Harry said "You have never trusted me with all of the facts, and I believe it is that fact that has caused me to make more mistakes, cause more damage, and even cost lives of people close to me, than any other. No longer. If I decide to keep working with you, if it's even possible, I will insist on knowing everything that is known by anyone on our side about a situation."

Ron, half off the floor at that point, sat back down with a thump. His expression practically matched Hermione's; one of shocked horror, that such a respected figure should be talked to like that.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, The Boy Who Lived does have a mind of his own!" Draco declared, dry amusement clear in his voice.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, ignoring Draco's witticism, "you've certainly expressed some opinions."

Harry rolled his eyes. "So I have," he replied sarcastically. "And where are the others I requested be here?"

"The world does not answer to your beck and call, Mr. Potter. They had classes."

"Bitter, much?" Draco queried, not expecting an answer; which was good, because he didn't get one.

"I asked for them in case Madam Pomfrey needed their aid," Harry said, but Dumbledore ignored the explanation.

"What did you mean, Mr. Potter, by "if it's even possible" to continue working with us?" the headmaster asked.

"Unless it was a fluke, Draco and I seem to be having some trouble with our magic. We weren't able to transfer Madam Pomfrey to a bed when she collapsed."

Now looking less angry and more concerned, Dumbledore turned to the mediwitch. "Poppy? Are you up to checking out this problem?"

Looking just a little less than murderous, Madam Pomfrey glared at Harry, but said "I already have." She turned her gaze to Dumbledore before continuing. "The magical influences in all of this are fascinating. It's extremely difficult to say where one influence ends and another begins. Most of the physical changes are ones one would expect from any part-Veela genetic inheritance. However, there seem to have been some highly unlikely variations. While it seems beyond belief, it appears that the Power Partner bond informed the genetics of both young men of what their relationship would be, influencing their physical changes. Should I go into detail?"

"I don't believe that will be necessary, Poppy. Perhaps just the highlights?"

'Pervert,' Draco deadpanned.

Harry snickered, drawing curious gazes from the other four in the room who were, of course, unable to hear their mental dialogue with each other. 'You don't think he has any other sort of sex life, do you? Harry asked.

Draco smirked.

Harry interrupted. "Just a minute, please. While Draco and I are the subjects of this conversation, and I can see why you, headmaster, might have a need to know since we're students here, I'd just as soon not have anyone else present." Turning to his friends, he said "Sorry, Ron, 'Mione, but this sounds like it's going to get highly personal. You understand, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, Harry. But you do understand that we're going to be asking questions later, don't you?" Hermione said.

"Just as long as you don't expect to get answers, 'Mione," Harry said, smirking.

Dumbledore interrupted, addressing Harry's friends. "The two of you will return to your classes and accept any penalties rendered for your tardiness. I am also deducting ten points each from Gryffindor for your earlier insolence."

"But...!" Ron began.

"No 'buts,' Mr. Weasley. Go."

When the four of them were alone, Dumbledore nodded to Madam Pomfrey, indicating she should continue.

"It seems that changes were made to make artificial aids to intercourse unnecessary, glands providing the necessary. Mr. Malfoy is capable of conceiving and giving live birth unaided, while Mr. Potter might do so with proper magical preparation." At that, Harry and Draco gasped. Poppy smirked at them, happy for some small measure of revenge. "That is, providing they make a conscious choice to conceive." The two young men almost passed out from the relief they felt. "Environmental conditions must also be satisfactory for conception to take place." At the quizzical looks she received, Madam Pomfrey explained. "They need to feel safe. As for their magic: Not only is it still there, but the levels are far beyond any I've seen before. However, it is not wizard magic. Those levels are very low, fit only for the smallest magics, such as Lumos."

"Regarding pregnancies; such things as rape by another, or forcing us to have intercourse, would be of no avail?" Draco asked.

"That is correct, Mr. Malfoy," the mediwitch replied, giving the young blonde a curious look.

'Why did you ask that?' Harry asked.

'Our magic. If it's as high as Pomfrey says it is, my father would love to get his hands on a child of ours to raise with his ideas and hatreds - providing that child's magic had as high a potential as ours. This way, we have time to prepare ourselves and create a safe haven before starting a family - if we want to?'

Harry looked at his mate, horror-stricken with the idea of Lucius getting anywhere near a child of theirs. 'I never thought of children before our first bonding. Then, well... Until now I didn't think we'd be able to have children, so I haven't thought of it. But as far as I'm concerned now, there will be no child at least until we can be sure your father will never be able to get anywhere near it - him - her.'

Draco ignored Harry's mental stammer. 'I've always wanted children; mostly so I could lavish the love on them I didn't have, but after we bonded, I didn't think I'd ever be able to have children, either. Now the chance is there again. But I agree; no children until we can be sure they'll be safe.'

"Well, well, well. Some quite fascinating information, here. But the bottom line is, this is quite a setback for us," Dumbledore opined.

Harry stared at the old man in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't get anything out. He closed his mouth, then tried again. "I... I can't believe you! I thought it, but... I've just been a tool for you - a weapon to use against your enemies!" Harry sat there staring, shaking his head. "Do you care at all that my life, and Draco's, have just been turned completely upside down?"

The headmaster had the grace to look somewhat abashed. "Yes, of course I care, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. But I'm afraid that Hogwarts is geared only towards witchcraft and wizardry and those arts that apply to those areas. The fact that you have great magic is..."

A Ravenclaw prefect stuck his head in the door, interrupting. "Headmaster Dumbledore? So sorry to interrupt, sir, but Mr. Lucius Malfoy is here demanding to see his son. He's creating quite a scene, sir."

"Thank you, Mathews," Dumbledore replied. "Please put him in the green conference room, and tell him I'll be with him directly. Please see to it that he is served with the tea and biscuits of his choice."

"Well, gentlemen, shall we adjourn to my office? I believe your robes and other clothing are in the first wardrobe over there," he said, pointing. "I'll meet you in, say, a quarter-hour?" At Harry and Draco's agreement, he left, and the young lovers started getting dressed.

0x01 graphic

In Dumbledore's office, Harry sat on the arm of the overstuffed chair Draco was sitting in, and put a hand on his shoulder in show of support.

Dumbledore looked at the two and said, "Well, it was only a matter of time. Don't take anything I may say or do to heart, even if it seems against you. I assure you, none of it will hurt you. But I need you to act as though you believe it, anyway."

"Always so cryptic, playing your cards too close to your chest. Letting those who are colluding with you in on your plans is only good strategy, Headmaster. A blind assistant is of little use," Draco instructed.

Dumbledore gazed at the young Slytherin for a moment, then smiled. "I'm not used to trusting anyone, Mr. Malfoy, but you are, of course, correct. Very well, then. I plan to tell your father that your, and Mr. Potter's, present condition is the direct result of the potions incident of which, I am sure, he has already had reports. I will also tell him that, although it triggered your Veela transformation, it completely botched up your magic. If we can convince him that the two of you are completely useless and harmless to him... You understand?"

Draco and Harry nodded. It was a good plan, as far as it went. "And if he tests that story?" Draco asked.

"Perhaps it would be best to ward the two of you against any - untoward incidents of that sort." The headmaster began weaving his wand in intricate patterns, mumbling under his breath. An occasional mumbled exclamation could be heard as he cast one warding spell after another. When he'd finished, he put his wand away, and smiled. "That should do it!" he said brightly. "Shall we adjourn to the meeting?"

Dumbledore waved a hand at a section of bookcase, which slid aside to reveal a small sitting-room decorated in shades of green, giving it a somewhat mossy appearance, in Harry's opinion.

As they entered, Lucius Malfoy was sitting stiffly upright in a cane-backed chair, the tea and biscuits ignored on a tray on a small side table next to him. His expression of cold disdain altered not one iota as his gaze raked over the three, as though he saw his son's appearance alter every day. He watched as they seated themselves, Harry and Draco in almost intimate proximity. When he spoke, it was not to his son.

"Well, Headmaster? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"In what regard, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I assume you are aware that you are not returning my son to me in the same condition in which I left him in your care? Nor, I see, was it an isolated incident," finally acknowledging Harry's presence. "Quite disturbing, actually, to see how you fail your duties."

"What I find interesting, Mr. Malfoy, is that you do not seem to be the least bit interested in what happened to your son, or Mr. Potter, here, ask about his health, or anything of his welfare, but immediately start laying blame. Of course, I assume you have had reports from your usual sources in the school, but wouldn't you like to hear the official report?"

Lucius' eyes narrowed the merest fraction of an inch; a sure sign that he was annoyed; in this case by Dumbledore's not only being completely unfazed by his attack and accusations, but very neatly sidestepping them and letting him know that the headmaster was well aware of the spies he had there at the school. "Very well, Headmaster," he hissed, "let's do hear your report."

Dumbledore told the story he had outlined to the boys in the outer office.

"And you expect me to swallow this codswollop? By Noita's icy teats, what do you take me for?" Lucius sneered. Whipping out his wand and pointing it at Harry, he incanted "Engorgio!"

At Lucius' first movement towards his wand, Harry instinctively drew his own, and at almost the same time as the blonde man incanted his spell, Harry yelled "Stupefy!". Draco's fear of his father had made him freeze just long enough for this to happen, before he was frantically going for his own wand and cast "Accio wand" at his sire, then stopped as he realized that nothing had happened - anywhere. Lucius' spell had hit the wards placed around Harry and him, and Harry's wand had only sparked, as had his own.

"As you can see, Mr. Malfoy, I have warded your son and Mr. Potter against just such an attack, since, as you also saw, they cannot now protect themselves. For all intents and purposes, they are part-Veela squibs," Dumbledore smoothly lied. 'What they really are, is a mystery that someone else will have to solve,' he thought.

For the first time, real emotion showed on the elder Malfoy's face, as he stood up, face red with rage. "Veela?! There are no animals in my family line!" His voice dropped low; dangerous as he addressed the old man. "As low an opinion as I have of you and your school, I'm sure your medical staff is adequate enough to determine magic-induced changes from genetically-induced. Therefore, I have no son, and I have no further business with you." With that, he stood up and stalked out of the room.

Shock was evident in Draco's bloodless face. Even Harry's mouth hung open.

Dumbledore stood quickly, almost running towards his office. "I hadn't counted on this development. We must move quickly!" But the help he summoned wasn't fast enough. By the time the Aurors got to Malfoy Manor, Narcissa Malfoy was dead, and Lucius was gone.

Chapter Eleven

'Draco? Draco, please come back to me. You're scaring me.'

After being disinherited and learning of his mother's death by his father's hand, then his father's death by Aurors when they found Lucius in his "gentlemen's club," and the stupid bastard hadn't had the grace to give up peacefully, Draco had gone into shock. True, he had hated his father with a passion, and his mother had always been cold and unfeeling towards him, but the hatred had been something to lean on; a constant, one of the props in his life, and being a Malfoy had given him something to stand on, to say "This is where I came from," with at least some degree of pride. Now it was gone - all of it.

'You still have me, Draco. Can I be enough for you? Will you let me stand beside you?'

The voice kept whispering in his mind; it just wouldn't go away, and it kept promising sunshine and happiness. He had known happiness once, fleetingly.

'Yes, my love. You and I, together. We can have it again. Come back to me.'

Draco opened his eyes. Green. Deep golden-green pools . Life. Hope. Love. 'Harry?'

'Oh, yes, Draco! Yes!' Tears of relief and happiness flowed freely from those gold-flecked green orbs. 'My love, you've come back to me!'

"What did I say about being sappy, Harry?" Draco asked, tiredly.

Harry laughed weakly through his tears. "You said "not in public," you prat." He kissed Draco softly. "And we're not in public."

"If you're going to get that sappy, I might outlaw it altogether," Draco grumped.

"Then you're just going to have to punish me, aren't you? 'Cause when I'm with you, I just get sappy all over."

"Sexual innuendos, too? When will it end?" Draco mumbled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present my shy and sexually repressed mate and boyfriend, Draco Malfoy?" said a blushing Harry.

At the sound of the laughter of several people, Draco came fully aware and tried to look everywhere at once, engendering yet more laughter. Harry hugged him harder, grinning from ear to ear. "I thought you said we were alone, Harry?!" Draco complained.

"No, I didn't; I said we weren't in public," Harry quietly contradicted, and kissed the blonde's cheek.

Standing or sitting around the infirmary bed were several people Draco recognized, including his own Head of House, Professor Snape, who was looking anything but happy about what was happening in front of his eyes. Harry was sitting beside him on the bed. "Harry? As soon as we're alone, I'm going to kill you!" Draco threatened, face red.

"Well, you're certainly sounding more like yourself, anyway!" Harry said, grinning.

"So is there a reason for all these people being here, or was it entirely for my humiliation?" Raising his voice, Draco announced "Yes, folks, the beautiful blonde is just fine, the show is over, and you can all go home, now!"

"Draco! They're here because they were worried about you. Now apologize!"

"I don't apologize," Draco pouted. "I want you," he added quietly, so only Harry would hear him

Harry was already very much aware of that. He could smell his mate's desire, his need, and the words only made Harry's attempts at self-control that much more difficult. "You know I want you as badly. Apologize, and it won't be another thirty seconds, I promise," he whispered.

Draco hesitated, but only for a second. "That's blackmail, you know," he whispered. Then, quickly, so he wouldn't have to listen to himself saying it, "I'm sorry I was rude, everyone." Then, turning back to Harry, he said "Now get me out of here!"

Sweeping Draco off the bed, Harry gave into his need for his mate, and headed for one of the hospital wing's private rooms, announcing "Honeymoon syndrome! Don't wait up!" He heard a couple of fake retching sounds, and at least one small cheer before the door closed behind them, but nobody followed.

Harry let Draco's legs swing to the floor, allowing him to pull the blonde into a firm embrace, lips meeting, parting, tongues entwining, breath mingling. Then in a flurry of activity, they divested each other of their clothing. Draco fell back onto the bed, pulling Harry down on top of him. He was in no mood for gentle love-play. With the stability of his world having just been rocked to its foundations, he needed to know, in the worst way, that he was still wanted; that he had a place. He needed to be claimed, owned, possessed. Harry gave him that, and with the deep, boundless love freely given, it was so much more.

When they were sated, Draco looked up at Harry, his arms locked around the Gryffindor's neck, and whispered "That was even better than last night," then dragged Harry down for a long, lingering kiss. But he felt Harry's sudden disquiet. "Harry? What's wrong?"

"That was two nights ago, Drae," Harry whispered.

Memories came flooding back, and Draco paled. With his already pale skin, it almost seemed he would turn transparent, but of course he didn't. Scared that his mate would go into shock again, Harry hugged him tightly, kissing him over and over, and assuring him they could make it through anything together. A dam broke in Draco's heart; another of the many barriers that he'd erected over the years to deal with the abuse and loneliness he'd suffered during his life crumbling, and he wept, copiously. The relief he felt at the release of the pressure such barriers create, was almost as great as the sorrow he could now admit he felt. They had been heartless monsters, but they had still been his parents. Now there was no hope that they could ever change and give him the love he craved; the love that only his Harry had ever given, and was still giving, and he wept for that, as well.

The shocks and revelations had seemed never to stop, that day; yesterday. The Ministry of Magic would be seizing all Malfoy assets. The discovery of certain papers found during a search of the property after Narcissa Malfoy's murder had proven that Lucius Malfoy had been the de facto head of the Death Eaters, the wizarding world's version of the American Muggle's Ku Klux Klan, so his property was forfeit. The Ministry wasn't completely heartless, however. They allowed Draco, with Harry's help, to recover his personal belongings from his rooms at the manor, but nothing from elsewhere.

Lucius' death wouldn't affect the Death Eaters too badly, unfortunately, as their organization was set up almost as loosely as the aforesaid KKK, with member 'cells' acting almost, but not quite, independently. They would carry on; although, perhaps, not quite so efficiently.

When Harry had asked why the senior Malfoy would kill his wife, Draco had reminded him of the last words Lucius had said in the conference room; "There are no animals in my family line." Since Draco was a quarter Veela, his mother had to have been half Veela, or had cheated on Lucius with someone who was. Either would have been reason enough for the elder Malfoy to resort to murder, to assuage his injured pride. "Mother mentioned to me, once, that she and I shared a 'special' heritage, but she would never explain that to me. It's obvious now, of course." Draco had confessed.

"And?" Harry had prompted.

"My father is a purist, Harry," Draco had said, "anyone not of 100% wizard lineage is dirt to him. You know that. So what would he think of non-humans? Then he discovers he's married to one, been intimate with her - "it." to his mind - and sired a child with it. He would think he had to kill her in order to try to purify himself, if only by a little. I'm surprised he didn't try to kill me, to wipe out the evidence."

Harry had wanted to remind him of the protective wards that Dumbledore had placed around them, but had resisted; it wouldn't have helped.

That was yesterday. Well, part of it. All those Ministry officials questioning him over and over, even under Veritaserum, and Harry, beloved Harry, hovering over him, protecting him, refusing to leave him alone with them. And there hadn't been a thing they could do about it. A Veela bond-mating of any degree was protected to the hilt by law, even unto having special privileges, such as a waiver of age of consent laws, ability to marry, independence upon application, and others. They were, in the minds of most, a valuable addition to the magic levels of the wizarding world. True, this bonding was highly unusual, since both were part-Veela and not just one, and both were male, but... But that was beside the point. Harry had protected him, made him feel valued, just for himself. That was worth more than any amount of heritage or material goods. And Harry's love was safer to build upon, to depend upon. Draco could see that, today.

"Draco, love," Harry whispered, "are you okay, now?"

Draco leaned over and kissed him. "Getting there, Harry. Getting there. Just keep being there for me."

"Always, sweetheart." Harry said, risking being accused of sappiness again. It didn't come. Draco just snuggled in closer. Harry wondered at the almost complete transformation of his mate's character. The snarkiness, sneering, arrogance; all the negative qualities he'd known for over four years were, if not gone, at least severely diminished, and almost never shown to him, personally. But for Draco's personality change to be so drastic, a lot of that earlier nastiness had to have been assumed, rather that real. That was reassuring, in a way. Of course, the last couple of months hadn't left Harry untouched, either. His brooding over past mistakes, real or imagined, his uncertainties; all seemed so trivial, so childish, now. That wasn't to say he was suddenly trouble-free, but now they weren't so self-centred.

"Should we see if anyone's still out there? I can't believe we - I - just left them like that!" Harry said. "Still, it's not as if there wasn't very good reason," he said more softly, kissing his mate. He frowned. "And we still have to find out where we go from here, since we don't have enough wizarding magic to do anything with, and Hogwarts can't help us learn to use whatever kind of magic we do have."

"You really don't think Pomfrey made a mistake, do you? You don't think it's temporary." Draco half-stated, half-asked.

Harry shook his head. "As Madam Pomfrey said, we've both been in this infirmary often enough over the past few years. Do you think she could make a mistake like that?"

Draco's heart sank. "No; you're right. I don't." He wasn't looking forward to yet more changes. Too damned much had happened to him - to them - in too short a time. Would it ever end?

"I don't remember showers in here, and we're rather - messy." Draco said, changing the subject.

"You're right, love. No showers. We'll just have to clean ourselves up as best we can, and hope for a long, hot shower later."

Less than ten minutes later, they returned to the main room to find, unsurprisingly, that the only one anywhere in the vicinity was Poppy. "You two were quite - vocal, I'm afraid," she explained, blushing. It must have been catching, because certain Gryffindor and Slytherin men in the vicinity were suddenly quite red, as well. "The headmaster said you could return to your rooms, and have your meeting with him in his office at half nine," Poppy said, grinning.

"Um... Thank you, Poppy. Please accept our apologies, and extend them to the others, if we don't get the chance to?" Harry requested.

Poppy Pomfrey must have had some inkling of what he was thinking, if she wasn't fully informed, because she asked no questions, just smiled and nodded, and made 'shooing' motions at them.

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Once in their rooms, they made short work of disrobing and getting into the shower. The hot water was soothing as it pounded on tight muscles, relaxing tensions neither had fully realized were there. Harry turned Draco's back to him once they were both thoroughly soaked, poured a liberal amount of shampoo into his hands, and applied it to the thick mane of platinum-blonde hair before him. His hands were gentle as he massaged his lover's scalp, careful not to tangle the long, blonde locks, and occasionally planted a kiss on the slender, pale neck. When he rinsed the shampoo out, he got a handful of Draco's elf-made hair conditioner, made of a whipped mixture of oil, raw eggs, honey, bergamot and aloe vera, worked it through thoroughly just as gently as with the shampoo, then rinsed that out also, before lovingly washing every square centimetre of his lithe mate, not ignoring, but not taking any more special attention of his lover's erect member than any other part of his body, except for the quick kiss to its head that he couldn't resist. He was building up the tension, the expectation, as well as thoroughly enjoying an intimacy that wasn't all about sex, but getting comfortable and familiar with each other. It definitely helped that they had satisfied most of those more base urges earlier, in the private room in the infirmary.

Draco returned the gesture, but of course had to add his own twist to it, reaching around Harry to wash his front instead of turning him around, and pressing himself closely to Harry's back, his erect member pressing along the crack of Harry's arse, but let it go at that, not making any other suggestive moves. When he did act, just after he'd finished washing his love, there was nothing suggestive about it - it was downright blatant. Draco put his arms around Harry's neck, getting a good grip while attempting to snog his mate senseless, then jumped up, wrapping his legs high on Harry's waist, reaching below himself for a good grip, and then lowering himself, impaling himself on Harry's cock. The only thing that made such a mating possible was their unusual strength and, as they found out, endurance. "Sex for the Rest of Us" had mentioned this manoeuvre as a possible start for intercourse, but in the normal course of things, completion meant finding a stable surface to allow leverage. Harry grabbed Draco's thighs and buttocks, and slowly began the ages-old motions, slowly building the tempo as their need grew, until their orgasms took them into ecstasy, and a fleeting vision of dragons was shared between them.

After rinsing off, drying each other and getting dressed, they were hungry, so called Dobby.

Dobby performed his obeisance, then asked "Yes, Master Harry? What can Dobby do for the master?"

Harry frowned. "Dobby, you haven't called me 'master' since I helped you become free. It's always been 'mister' or just 'Harry Potter,' so why are you calling me 'master' again, and why all the bowing? You are not a slave."

Dobby hung his head a moment, then raised it proudly. "Yes, Dobby is free! But Harry Potter is Master! Harry Potter has the power! He is royalty!"

"Dobby, have you been into the cooking sherry?" Harry asked, shocked at this declaration.

"No, Master Harry, Dobby does not drink!"

"Then will you please explain yourself? What you're saying is totally insane!" Harry exclaimed. "I need to sit down. Dobby, draw up a stool." Harry sat, drawing Draco down onto his lap, but Dobby respectfully declined a seat.

As Dobby's explanation unfolded, both boys' eyes became huge. House elves were amongst the most lowly of the elf races, they were told. What was not widely known was that Veelas were the highest, and that there were two castes of Veela; the common Veela, and Noble Veela, just as there were common vampires and Noble Vampires, the difference being that common vampires could be made by the bite of another vampire of either class, but Noble Vampires and Veelas of both sorts were only born. On rare occasion, a Noble Veela and a Noble Vampire might mate and produce an offspring, but those relationships never lasted. The offspring were always especially powerful, however, and were trained to be leaders; the virtual, if not actual, "royalty" of the Vampire races, if the mother had been Vampire, or of the elven races, if the mother had been Veela; the mother determining the strongest genetic line. That such "royalty" would, or could, show up amongst humans was so outside the pale that Harry hadn't been recognized for who and what he was until he showed a trace of his power in the infirmary, against Madam Pomfrey.

"You're having me on," Harry accused weakly, face pale.

Dobby threw himself on the floor and started beating his head against it. "No, Master Harry, please! Dobby not do that to his only friend!" He then squeaked, and started hitting his head harder. " Dobby sorry for presuming friendship with royalty, Master Harry. Please don't hurt Dobby!"

"Dobby, stop that! I don't want you hurting yourself! And of course you're my friend! If this is all true, and I don't think you'd lie to me," Harry added quickly as Dobby seemed about to go back to beating his head on the stone floor, "I'll need someone to inform me of what I..." Harry paused. "Dobby, what of Draco?"

"Mister Draco be honoured mate of Master Harry," Dobby said, confused.

Harry's mind had been working at a furious pace. "Draco, I'm not exactly sure what's going on, here, but we might need some extra protections and guarantees so we can't be parted. I know it's not the most romantic way to ask, but will you marry me?" Harry asked.

Dobby looked on with mouth hanging wide open, bug-eyes bugged out, against all odds, even further. A palpable tension filled the air, as though the universe itself awaited the answer.

Draco stared into his mate's softly glowing eyes. "Damn, Harry, you don't do things by halves, do you?" he said softly. "I only have one question; who's the queen in this relationship? Only, it surely isn't going to be me!" Draco teased. "Oh, bloody hell! Measure me up for a wedding dress! Yes!" he said, grinning.

Harry kissed him soundly before turning back to Dobby, who was grinning from ear to ear - literally. "Dobby, is there elvish custom and protocol I - we - need to follow? A special ceremony?"

Dobby nodded, again serious. "Yes, Master Harry. Very special ceremony."

"Nothing else, though?"

"No, Master Harry."

"How much do I have to do myself, and how much could I ask you to arrange for me?" Harry asked.

Dobby's eyes got big "The Master would trust Dobby to arrange his marriage for him?"

"Dobby, I know nothing of what is customary, allowed, or mandatory. I would expect you to teach Draco and me everything we need to know, and to consult us on those things for which there are choices, but otherwise, yes. I assume part of that would be informing all of the elvish races of the event, and finding a suitable officiator for the ceremony?"

Dobby nodded. "Yes, Master."

"We need to tell everyone here, and arrange a human marriage as well, just so we have all possibilities covered. For now, I think we should keep this "royalty" thing a secret from all the humans. We'll just say that we want an elvish ceremony, as well. Other than that, Dobby, you can get started with what you need to do as soon as it's convenient, and after Draco and I have had supper, if you please."

"Would this be a good time to ask for my steak and lobster supper?" Draco asked, smirking.

Harry's laugh was so loud and raucous, Draco had to cover his ears, but he was grinning widely just the same. He got his special meal.

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"...so when Dobby heard me propose and heard Draco agree, he told us that since we were both part-Veela, we could have an elvish ceremony if we wanted one. We like the idea. Of course, we still want a civil ceremony, too, and we'd be honoured if you'd officiate for that," Harry told Dumbledore. "Aside from the fact that we do wish to be married, regardless, we figured it might help give us some legal protection regarding each other."

Dumbledore nodded, the twinkle in his eyes almost glittering. 'Shite! Now what?!' Harry thought.

'I wish I knew. Wouldn't this be fantastic if we could read other people's thoughts, too? Draco replied.

'Did I think that out loud? Never mind. Doesn't matter. Yes, it would be. You never know if he's just happy, or if he's planning something. And with this whole elves thing, I have to think he's planning something. Me and my big mouth!'

"So just what deviltry are you planning now, Headmaster?" Draco asked casually. For all that they were so closely bonded, a completely unplanned action by one could take the other by surprise, and Harry certainly was.

"Pardon?" that worthy asked.

"Your eyes. They always give you away." Draco turned to Harry. "Harry, I think we should re-think this elvish marriage. Not having it, just where we have it, and who attends."

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well, I won't invite my colleagues."

Harry looked at the old man, eyes a hard gold, voice cold, as he said "If you believe you have the right to invite anyone to another's wedding, then Draco is right; we will not be having it here or anywhere on Hogwarts property. Nor will you officiate at our civil wedding."

Dumbledore wilted. "It was presumptuous of me. But in my defence, this school is under my management and you two are still students here."

"Since when, Dumbledore? Our magic is not of a kind you can help us learn, remember?" Harry's eyes were beginning to look molten.

'Harry, your eyes are starting to turn, again. Control, Harry,' Draco projected.

Harry took a couple of deep breaths. 'Thank you, love.'

"Let's see what Dobby thinks of the Forbidden Forest," Harry said to his mate. "Good day, Headmaster."

They ignored his half-hearted attempts to retain his dignity and apologize as they walked out of his office and returned to their rooms.

"Not a bad man, Dumbledore, but entirely too controlling and manipulative. Imagine! Trying to use our wedding to gain prestige for himself?" Harry complained to Draco back in their apartment, wondering at the nerve of the man.

"Harry?"

"Yes, love?"

"Shut up kiss me."

Harry grinned, and complied.

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Two weeks later, Dobby said he'd taught them everything they'd need to know for the ceremony (which actually wasn't much), and that everything was set for that. The only problem was that humans wouldn't be allowed to attend. To that end, an honour escort of house elves would take them to the appointed spot right after the human civil ceremony.

A ceremonial marriage is a grand thing, full of pomp, and sealed with a spell that binds the couple together. Already being bound, Draco and Harry didn't need this, nor the stress and publicity that went along with such a ceremony. A civil ceremony, on the other hand, was little more than a legalized statement of intent to be a married couple. Since they were already more 'married' than most who merely went through a ceremony, the civil service was merely a formality, albeit one that provided legal protections.

Harry relented, and let Dumbledore perform the civil ceremony, but not within Hogwarts itself. It was held on the banks of the lake where both Draco and he had spent many an hour in contemplation, over their years at the school - at different times, of course. Attendees were many, although perhaps not what one would have expected. Those already in the know about the two were there, of course, plus a handful more that each thought should be invited, (Draco couldn't help but invite Pansy Parkinson, just to drive it home that he'd never be hers) but the majority were the Hogwarts house elves.

Draco did not, of course, wear a wedding dress. In recognition of their ambiguous relationship, both with the school, and the wizarding world, yet not wishing to associate themselves too closely with the Muggle world, both Harry and Draco wore traditional Scottish dress rather than robes or trousered suits. They looked quite handsome in their formal, steel-grey kilts. The ceremony was a simple one, consisting of little more than "Let all here witness that the two people standing before you here today, have consented to spend the rest of their years in wedded bliss as loving partners and mates. Harry James Potter, is this your intent and will?" At a firmly stated assent, "Draco Aloysius Malfoy, is this your intent and will?" And with his equally firm statement of resolve, Dumbledore said, "It is customary at this time to offer the couple the chance for one or both to change their name. Is this an option of which you wish to partake?"

'What the blazes?? The bastard never told us about that! Did you know about it?' Harry asked Draco, incensed.

'I... Yes, but I didn't recall it until now!'

'He's done this on purpose, so we'd be less likely to do so. Can't stop manipulating and controlling, the old git! So what should we do?' Harry asked, fuming.

'How do you feel about becoming the second Mr. Malfoy?' Draco asked.

'It would serve him right, luv, but I'm afraid that your father has rather tainted the name. No, I think rather than your name or mine, we should try to think of a third option. I'm tired of being fawned over because of my name.'

'While being smack behind being fawned over for other reasons, of course,' Draco thought, facetiously.

'Of course!' Harry thought back playfully, winking at his love.

Harry felt a timid tug on his kilt, and looked down to see Dobby staring up at him. "Master Harry, sir, Dobby knows a name the Master might like. An old name of great honour." Draco bent down to listen as well. Dobby whispered it in their ears.

'D'LumiÃ¨re? That means "of the light," doesn't it?' Harry asked.

'Yes. And I think it's a good name, Harry.' Draco said.

'Do you want to change first names, too? It seems like I'm the only "Harry" in the wizarding world, and I'd like to escape all the fame and hero shite. I think I'd like to take the name "Conall." It means "strong in battle,"' Harry thought, diffidently.

'What are you hiding, Harry?' Draco asked.

'Well, it also means "high" as in 'important' or 'highly placed,' and "mighty",' Harry admitted with a sly grin.

'If you take that name, I'll just call you "Con",' Draco retorted.

Happy that Draco hadn't nixed the idea out of hand, Harry's ebulience overflowed. 'Why, thank you, love! That means "wise".'

Draco groaned, but thought of what first name he'd like to take with his beloved. 'Drake D'LumiÃ¨re' Draco thought. 'I like the sound of that. You gave it to me, it's close to my own name, so I won't have trouble getting used to it, and it means essentially the same thing - dragon.'

'Sounds good to me, love. Shall we rock the old man's world?'

'Let us do!' Draco quipped.

"We've been thinking of this ever since we decided to marry," Harry lied smoothly, "but Dobby just had to remind us because of our wedding jitters; so yes, we do wish to take advantage of that custom, in honour of our new lives." Harry enjoyed the look of shock on Dumbledore's face. "My name will be Conall D'LumiÃ¨re," he announced.

"And mine will be Drake D'LumiÃ¨re," Draco added.

Red-faced, Dumbledore glared at the pair while he concluded the ceremony, making the wedding legal and final, the name changes official, and sending off the requisite copies of notification to the Ministry of Magic, Vital Statistics Division.

Dobby beamed, proud that his suggestion had been accepted and used, although he, also, hadn't been expecting the change of first name.

The newly-dubbed Conall and Drake D'LumiÃ¨re turned to their friends and witnesses; Harry, now Conall, making the announcement. Raising his hands to get everyone's attention, he went on to explain, at least mostly truthfully, "I'm sorry if the name change came as a shock to all of you, but we had our reasons for not telling anyone. This was a decision made and kept between Drake and I, so please don't feel slighted that you weren't told; nobody was. Most of you are like family to us, and like most close family, you feel you have the right to second-guess and argue the decisions made by those you care about." Here, Conall cast meaningful looks at Ron and Hermione. They blushed a bit, but Ron, especially, looked stubbornly back at him. "As much as we appreciate the love and caring this can show, we are quite capable of making reasoned decisions and did not feel like arguing about this one. There were, and are, very good reasons for our decision. I'm sure if you think about it, you will realize at least some of them. And now, I'm afraid that we must leave you, at least for a time. We have another ceremony to attend which, I'm sorry to say, was by invitation only."

'That speech was worthy of a Slytherin, Har- Conall' Drake said 'Such a mixture of truths, half-truths and ambiguities! I'm almost impressed!'

Conall grinned. 'Well, the Sorting Hat did want to put me in Slytherin; but I wanted to stay with my new friend, Ron, so requested Gryffindor. I was mostly thankful for being placed there, but I've often wondered why it listened to me.'

Drake kicked his partner's ankle, on the sly, for the implied slight. Still, this revelation was somewhat enlightening.

A band of six house elves, including Dobby and Jinkies, had been making their way to, and surrounding, the newlyweds. "Is Master Harry - Dobby sorry - Is Master Conall and Mister Drake being ready?"

With a glance at Drake for agreement, Conall said "Yes, Dobby. A bit nervous, I think, but ready. And thank you for the name."

Dobby grinned again.

The house elves clustered closely around the young men, linking with each other, hand to shoulder at arm's length, but without touching the newly-named Conall and Drake. At some indefinable sign, there was a loud *pop* and the group was gone. As if that were a signal, the rest of the house elves present started popping out, with a sound like a large string of firecrackers going off. Soon, the area was empty except for a small group of very stunned humans.

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Chapter Twelve

Shortly after they appeared in the large, natural clearing, the *pop* of a great many house elves appearing rang through the air. Dobby, Jinkies and the other four house elves that had transported him and Drake, made their obeisance to Conall, and went off to join the ranks of what looked to be thousands of elves, of many races. They ringed the clearing; some dressed in bits and pieces of human cloth and clothing, such as the house elves, others in woven greenery, and some nude. The last were wearing it so naturally, that anything else would have seemed perverse.

And then there were the Veela. Tall, slender, white-blonde, and mostly female. Conall could only pick out two males in this group. There weren't many Veela, perhaps a few dozen, but they were just as beautiful as Conall remembered from his third year at Hogwarts. But the Noble Veela, of which there were only a handful present, stood out from the crowd like a lit candle in the darkness. It wasn't any one thing you could put a finger on that made them different from the other Veela, but the total was breathtaking. 'And,' Conall thought, 'I'm supposed to be related to them? Dobby must be mad!'

One of the male Veela and two of the females separated themselves from the crowd and approached Conall and Drake. With that, the ceremony was begun. One of the females, upon reaching Conall and Drake, turned to the crowd. "Who calls this Convergence, and why?"

Dobby had, evidently, approached again, while Conall and Drake's attention had been upon the approaching Veela. "Dobby called for Convergence, Thraia. A Master wishes marriage with his mate."

"Where is the High-Born, and his mate?"

This was not a part of the ceremony, and suddenly Dobby looked nervous.

"Master Conall and Mister Drake, Thraia. Those brought in House Elf circle of honour." Dobby replied, trembling.

Thraia said nothing, but turned to the two men.

'Something isn't right, here, Drake. Unfortunately, we're fairly well helpless without our wizarding magic. Not knowing how to use this other magic doesn't help, either.' Conall "said." 'Still, this may be just a test. I hope so, 'cause we wouldn't get far if we ran. We're surrounded.'

'"Die like a Gryffindor," eh, Potter?'

'D'Lumière, Drake. And don't use me as the target when you're nervous. I'm scared, too.'

'Sorry, Harry.'

Conall ignored his mate's use of his old name. He reached over, took Drake's damp hand in his, and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"Present yourselves as nature, so that all may know you come in peace." Thraia commanded. Dobby had briefed them well. What was being asked was that they remove all man-made coverings to show they carried no weapons, among other things. This should have been reassuring, since it was a return to custom, but Conall still felt her suspicion; her distrust.

Prepared as they were for the command, their culture had not prepared them for casual nudity, so, try as they might, there was more than a trace of red in the cheeks of both young men, but no hesitation, as they disrobed. One of the females gathered up the clothing and took it towards the clearing's edge, while the male and other female circled the couple once, twice, thrice; affording the gathering at least a small glimpse of the two.

At this point the male should have handed each a length of silk to drape around their loins to provide a semblance of dignity, but it didn't happen. Instead, the Veela waited for their third to return, then all three took on their non-humanoid form, growing a beak and feathered wings. This, then, was another indication of their being Noble Veela. Common Veela had scaly wings. Insofar as Conall and Drake knew (or, indeed, the whole of the wizarding world), this transformation only happened when Veela were angry, but instead of attacking, they merely spread and stretched their wings over the heads of the young men, creating a sort of canopy. Conall felt magic working now, but it wasn't the kind he was used to feeling; it wasn't wizard magic. This was at least a little more in tune with the magic that now infused his, and Drake's, bodies, but not the same. Suddenly, it stopped, and the Veela returned to their humanoid form.

"House elf:" Thraia said, sternly. "I thought you said that these were only one-quarter Veela?"

Dobby was crouched down on all fours, pressing himself as close into the ground as he could get, and trembling violently. "This what Dobby hear, Thraia. Master Dumbledore and the Pomfrey-lady say Master Conall and Mister Drake one-quarter Veela, and Master Conall also have Vampire. Dobby see the power, Lady. Dobby see the red eyes!"

"Humans! The Veela 'breed male is almost three-quarters pure, and the High Born 'breed has almost no human in him!"

The Veela male spoke up. "There are traces that great magics and bondings have been involved, Thraia, and still are. Is it possible that those magics could have altered their bodies far more than is usual? Perhaps those magics purified their bodies further? Even you must admit that these two are unique."

Thraia frowned, then examined the subjects of their conversation again, using other magics to gain more information. Eyes widening, she said, "It seems you may be correct, Folmar. Very well, the house elf may live."

This last pronouncement shocked Conall. He had no idea that Dobby's life had been in danger. Dobby obviously had, from the way he had been cowering, and the way he now seemed a bit more relaxed; if loosening his grip on the turf a fraction could be called more relaxed.

"And the wedding?" asked the other female Veela, called Coriga.

"The High-Born - Conall? - has the right. It will continue. You have the silks, Coriga?"

Coriga didn't answer, but handed over two lengths of fine silk to Folmar, who knelt to wrap the silks loosely about the loins of the nude males, though these did little to conceal their forms. The length given Conall was a deep, forest green, the one given to Drake a rich peach colour. Folmar arose, and stepped back a pace.

Silence descended on the clearing, broken only by the sound of falling water from somewhere fairly close by, but out of sight. No birdsong, no insect noise, no tree breeze sounds - nothing else could be heard. Then, slowly, the Veela started to dance, wending their way into the clearing around Conall and Drake, followed, one by one, by the other elvin races, from highest in order of heirarchy, to lowest. And as they danced, a 'wind' of magical energy arose, getting stronger in intensity, and concentrating on the couple in the centre of the clearing. As it did, the golden glow that had twice before manifested, did so again, and for the second time, their feet left the ground. But this time, both Conall and Drake remained fully aware as the magical energy whirled them about as though they were in a slow, gentle, tornado. The result looked as though they were, separately, slowly dancing in mid-air.

As the "dance" progressed, the glow grew brighter, and the spiral tighter. The tighter the spiral grew, the brighter the glow, until the limbs of the two young men were wound tightly around each other's bodies. The golden glow seemed to rival the brightness of the sun, then turned an electric blue-white before it started to fade. Drake and Conall's bodies gently drifted to the ground. As the final bit of glow left them, a deep, resonant voice rang out over the clearing, seeming to fill all space, cancelling out all other sound. "Thrice linked in the glow; thrice linked in the Light of Heaven; bound in mind, in body, and in spirit; bound in life, in death, and in rebirth. All hail the Dragon Lord to be; all hail the Healing Hand to come."

As the voice died away, all eyes that were capable of doing so stared in astonishment as the body that had issued that voice sank to the ground, unconscious. None moved to aid the pitifully small body of the elf. Dobby lay alone.

"The Elven are not subject to such usage!" Thraia denied, finally finding her voice. Even in the face of her own senses, she could not accept that these two young men, reared in Human society, could be any more than they appeared - human. Yet events insisted that the situation was otherwise. Thraia turned to the crowds, and addressed them. "This Convergence is at an end. Go to your homes."

Slowly, the crowds of elves thinned out, and then they were gone.

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Drake and Conall had not, this time, become unconscious after the glow left them, although they were drained of strength. By the time they were able to move, only they, Dobby, and the Noble Veela called Folmar were left in the clearing. Sometime during their recovery period, Folmar had retrieved the young men's clothing. As they dressed, the former wizards were startled by a large shadow that passed overhead. Quickly looking up, they could see only a dark silhouette, but that was enough to tell them that a dragon of some kind had passed, flying towards the north-east.

"What, in the name of Merlin's beard, was that?" Drake asked, knowing even as he asked it, that it was a stupid question.

"Töhnschtülle. The dragon-folk come and go as they please. This one attended, and observed here."

"Why?" Drake inquired, grateful that Folmar had substituted "who" for his spoken "what."

"They do not explain themselves, and we do not ask."

"Well, that seems fairly damn stupid, to me," the ex-Slytherin stated, his natural arrogance asserting itself.

"Drake! We don't need to be insulting the only ones that can help us!" Conall reprimanded.

The blonde just glared at his mate, embarrassed to be corrected in front of a stranger, and angry to be embarrassed. Conall sent a mental caress to his mate in a mute attempt at conciliation, but otherwise ignored him. And seeing that the line of questioning about the dragon was now fruitless, they turned to other matters.

Neither young man had yet seen the limp form of Dobby. Although they had heard the proclamation, they hadn't seen from whence it came.

"Folmar, what was that nonsense about a dragon lord, and - what was it? A healing hand?" Conall asked, as they dressed."

"No nonsense, High Born. For an elf to be touched and used in such a manner as that one was," Folmar replied, pointing at Dobby, "is unheard of."

Their attention drawn to Dobby's still form, Conall uttered a quiet exclamation, and hurried over to the house elf. Checking him over, Conall was pleased to note that Dobby was alive, and apparently unharmed. Folmar and Drake had followed Conall, Drake touching Conall's shoulder in mute support while his mate checked Dobby over. As Conall stood, and turned to put an arm around his lover, Folmar asked "The house elf is alive?" At Conall's nod, he said "Then he will recover. The proclamation made through him said you were 'thrice-bonded.' If I might inquire; this was your third bonding?

"Yes." Drake replied, simply and quietly.

"Amazing." Folmar said. "To achieve even one Golden Bond is rare; two is almost unheard of. Three? There is an old legend of our people of such a happening, but we thought it merely a youngling's tale. I only believe because of the anomalies of your Marriage Dance."

In response to the puzzled looks he received, Folmar explained. "All who choose to be Joined - who are 'married,' as you call it - as you were, experience the Binding Dance, or the Air Dance as it's sometimes called. The Golden Bond was unexpected, but not completely so, as it occasionally happens, and is always greeted with joy; but the Spirit Glow that showed at the end...!" Again, he had to explain. "When your Golden Bond turned blue. It is only seen around our strongest healers when they do spirit work, or about their hands, as they heal - until now. That, and the - utterance - of the house elf, is proof enough."

"His name is Dobby." Conall said.

"The house elf? Very well, then - Dobby. But on to other matters. You have much to learn, Conall, to take your place amongst us, and you are many years behind in that learning. I would take you to the place of your learning, but I have been instructed otherwise. It is felt by some that if, indeed, you are what you have been proclaimed to be, then it must be proven. You will have to make the journey as best you can on your own; or rather, without help from any Veela. The house elf - Dobby - will guide you. It appears he is now awake."

Looking to where they had left the small elf to recover in peace, Drake and Conall were relieved to note that Dobby had raised himself to a semi-reclining position on one side, and was looking in their direction. "Dobby!" Conall exclaimed, "Are you alright?"

"Dobby is being alright, Lord." the house elf replied, looking distraught.

"A lot has happened, Dobby. Do you know why a dragon would have come to our marriage?"

"Dobby send invitation to all the magic folk, Lord." Dobby was struggling to gain his feet, presumably to be able to show proper respect to the one he considered his lord. It was not done that one sat or reclined in the presence of a house elf's human masters, much less in the presence of elven nobility, without express permission.

"Well, that answers that question," Conall remarked, to no-one in particular. "except why it chose to come."

"Dobby not know, Lord." the little elf replied, having gained his feet. "Maybe dragon-folk hear of great Harry Potter?"

"Probably just curiosity. But it seems you will be guiding us to the home of the Veela, Dobby. It seems Drake and I need to prove something to them by getting there without other aid than yours." Conall had found it extremely uncomfortable to realize, and live with, the fact that most of the wizarding world seemed to almost worship him; he didn't want to believe that he could be important to non-human folk, as well. It seemed entirely unlikely, and was distinctly uncomfortable. Coming from Dobby, though, it almost seemed comical, which made it easier to deal with.

Dobby looked shocked, but nodded. "Dobby can guide you, Lord. Dobby will be happy to guide Master Conall and his mate. But Dobby might need help to keep the Lord and his mate safe. May Dobby bring his mate?"

"I didn't know you had a mate, Dobby. Congratulations! Of course you may bring your mate." Not knowing if Dobby's mate was male or female, he avoided using pronouns.

Dobby was now hopping around in his efforts to contain his joy. "Oh, thank you, Lord! Dobby so happy! Twinkie be happy, too!"

Conall frowned, slightly, wondering why Twinkie, a female elf he'd met a time or two in the kitchens, hadn't come to Dobby's aid when he fell. "Was Twinkie here today, Dobby?"

"No, Lord Conall, sir. Twinkie needed at castle." Then he got a worried expression on his face. "Will Dumblee let Twinkie go?"

As only a few had been invited to the human-style wedding, this was reasonable. "I'll buy her from the school if I have to, Dobby. I look forward to meeting her again. She was very nice when I talked to her." Dobby beamed, his eyes almost sparkling, and if it hadn't been his new status, Conall was sure he'd have had a very happy house elf wrapped around his leg. Conall turned to ask Folmar a question, only to find the Veela gone. A look around the clearing proved that the Noble Veela wasn't anywhere in the vicinity, so they were probably on their own, as of now.

Conall turned to his mate. "Well, love, it looks like it's time to leave Hogwarts behind. We need to get ready, and say our goodbyes."

"Nobody there I care to see again, anyway; except maybe Professor Snape. It may be a good idea to see if I can get some potions from him for our journey, for healing and such."

Conall agreed, but was privately amazed that his mate hadn't put up a fuss about leaving.

Dobby pointed the way, and they set out for the castle.

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"But Harry, you can't go!"

The newly-renamed Conall chose to ignore that his friend was using the wrong name on him. "I have to, Ron. We have to. Without wizarding magic, we'd be little better than squibs if we stayed, so we have to learn how to use what we now have, and we can't do that, here."

"Then Herm and I will go with you!" the red-head declared.

"Ronald Weasley! Since when have you had the right to make decisions for me?!" Hermione huffed.

Ron blushed and hung his head. "Sorry, 'Mione." But then his expression again became determined. "But I'm going, anyway!"

"As if I'd let you go anywhere alone!" Hermione declared, leaving Ron looking like a fish out of water. She loved keeping her man off-balance.

"That's a very tempting offer, mates, but we don't know where we're going, and you wouldn't be accepted once we got there. How would you get back?" Conall said.

"A portkey, 'Conall.'" Hermione replied, her voice deceptively reasonable.

"Of course you know how to make one, Granger?" Drake sneered.

Hermione blushed slightly. "No, but I'm sure..."

"And Dumbledore will, of course, be delighted to let you leave school and go into unknown conditions, perhaps into danger?" Drake continued.

"Listen, Ferret-face! We don't..."

"Ron! That's one good reason, right there, why you shouldn't go with us!" Conall remonstrated. "I can't, and I won't, have even my best friend insulting - my mate." Turing to Drake with a wry grin, he said "It's going to take me a bit to get used to saying that aloud, Drake; as much as I love you."

"For me as well, love." Drake replied.

Ron made a retching sound, then said "Do you have to say it at all? Knowing you two are together I can handle, but I don't need reminders of what you do together!"

"There aren't going to be private rooms very often while we're on the road, Ron." Conall said.

"You don't mean..." Ron said faintly, turning pale.

Drake sniggered as Conall replied gently, and blushing slightly "I'm not going to ignore him because you have a problem, Ron. And it's not likely either of you will be allowed to accompany us, anyway. Right, 'Mione?"

Hermione sighed, but replied. "Right. I'm sorry, Ron, but as much as I'd like to, they have some very good points."

Ron lashed out in his frustration. "You'd just miss the library!" Then he looked ashamed of himself, but it was too late.

"That's right, Ron. I'm so shallow that books mean more to me than my friends. I'll be in the library having a scintillating conversation with "Hogwarts: A History." Harry, I'll miss you. I hope you come back someday. Draco, take care of him, or I'll hex you 'til your balls fall off!" With that, Hermione stormed off.

The three males stared after her. They weren't shocked that she'd shown such temper, as all three had often seen evidence of that, but that Hermione would use language like that was quite a revelation. "'Mione!" Ron cried, in a panic. "I - I have to go, Harry." He hesitated, then gave Conall a big hug. "Come back to us!" And then he was gone, running after his girlfriend.

Conall turned to Drake, and pulled him into a gentle, yet passionate kiss. "We need to pack."

"Dobby! Pack and shrink our belongings, except for our brooms, then pack provisions." Drake ordered.

"Please." Conall prompted. Dobby *popped* out. When there was no response from the blonde, Conall back-handed his biceps.

"Ow!"

"What did I tell you? They're not slaves, so don't treat them as if they were."

"Don't order me about, Con," Drake hissed. "And didn't you say something about buying one of them?"

"Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry," Conall apologized, refering to his 'ordering about' of his mate. "Anyway, I wouldn't really be buying her, just paying for the loss of her services.

Drake muttered something that sounded like "Yeah, right."

"Anyway, Dobby's going to be our guide," Conall continued, ignoring the jibe for the moment. "and he would probably be a lot more cooperative and helpful if we treated him and his mate decently. So, if for no other reason, you might want to try to be nice to him for that reason. It's called 'enlightened self-interest.'"

"I know what enlightened self-interest is, 'Conall.'" Drake replied cooly, "I've lived by it my whole life. But you know as well as I do that house elves are eager to please, no matter what; and Dobby would kiss your boots even if you kicked him with them."

"And it would appear that you're trying to start a fight with me, Drake. I don't want to fight with you."

"You know you'd lose."

"I know we'd both lose." Conall said quietly.

"Let's get our brooms." Drake said, avoiding a direct reply, and headed off for their rooms.

"I love to fly as much as you, but doesn't that take wizard power?"

Drake stopped cold. "Yes, it does."

"So, no flying."

"Bloody hell." Drake said, almost calmly. "They can't expect us to walk to wherever we're supposed to be going, can they?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, love. But flying, riding or walking, getting training is a necessity: unless, of course, you'd like to live in the Muggle world?"

"I think I'm in the mood for a stroll."

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Chapter Thirteen

Due to Dumbledore's injured pride, having had his plans and manipulations come to naught, he refused to just let Twinkie go, and spitefully set a bond-price four times what it should have been. Conall didn't even blink. He paid it, then sent a message both to the Ministry of Magic and "The Daily Prophet," reporting everything he knew of Dumbledore's manipulations and dealings, as well as sending a copy of the contract Dumbledore had signed transferring Twinkie's bond to him, to the Ministry of Magic, just in case the headmaster got vindictive and accused him later of 'stealing' the house-elf.

Although not literally slaves, house elves were often treated as bond-servants; this despite the fact that the only thing keeping a house elf to the "master" they or an ancestor had chosen, was their extreme sense of honour, which would keep them with even an abusive 'master' even unto being murdered by him or her. That sense of honour was also what allowed their non-existent contract to be sold to another, and honoured by the elf. Fortunately for their peace of mind, that was a very rare occurance.

Harry had once asked Dobby why they subjected themselves to servitude, when there was no reward in it for them. The answer had surpised him. It turned out that the race of elves that Dobby and Twinkie belonged to were actually a warrior caste. Those who either weren't fit, or refused to serve in that capacity, for whatever reason, were the ones who wound up as house elves. Most house elves were cast out of their demesne for 'cowardice.' Having seen some of the things Dobby had dared, he had wondered what standards the rest of race had to live up to. Needing protection, shelter and a means of earning sustenance, they chose servitude; they felt themselves worthy of nothing else.

Dumbledore couldn't do anything about Dobby's leaving, though, since the elf was an employee and had the right to quit his employment - a fact that other house elves considered rather scandalous. Giving the message and contract to Hedwig, along with telling her where they were to go, he then told her to look for him heading north-east from the castle upon her return. The former Gryffindor then headed to the dungeons to find Drake and help him with any potions he'd been able to get from Snape.

Fortunately, the Professor had decided to be generous. Not only was there a good supply of various medical potions, but Snape had spelled the various flasks and vials to make them unbreakable; a necessity for those travelling the hard way, which is to say, covering every foot of ground, instead of being able to apparate or fly. On the way out, Conall suddenly decided that one generosity deserved another.

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes, what is it, boy?!" Snape snarled.

Conall took off his glasses and put them on the professor's desk. "I thought I should probably give you a gift." Although he'd told his mate about not needing his glasses, he had, out of habit, been wearing them while outside of their rooms.

"And what would I need with those, Potter? You'll be tripping all over your feet, out there; not that you're much better with them!"

"Ah, still in fine form, professor. No, I thought you might like a reminder. You see, I don't need them; I haven't for a few of years, now."

Snape impatiently snapped "So you finally decided to let someone fix those myopic things, did you Potter? About time!"

"No, Snape, I didn't. I did it myself. Turns out that I'm actually quite good with potions. My only problem in your class, was you. How many..."

"How dare you! Get out!" the professor interrupted.

"When I've had my say, Snape. As I said, I'm leaving these spectacles for you as a reminder; a reminder to leave your personal prejudices outside of the classroom. How many promising potions students have you ruined because of your temper, your sarcasm? You..."

"If they're not strong enough..." Snape interrupted strongly, fuming.

Annoyed with being interrupted yet again, as well as those few words Snape had uttered, Conall interrupted in his own turn. "Strength, either of body or character, is not needed for potions, Snape, as you well know! It is not your place to inflict your temper upon them; teach what you know."

Snape sneered. Down deep, he knew "Potter" was probably right, but again, his pride got the better of him. "Still trying to be the hero, eh, Potter? Well, it's my classroom, and I'll teach as I bloody well see fit. Now, get out!"

Conall turned and went to the door, then turned again. "I do hope, for your sake, that the Hogwarts Board of Directors agrees with you after they've read my letter," he said quietly, then closed the door behind him. There was no letter, nor would there be one; he was putting his faith in Snape's sense of perfectionism and professionalism for the most part, although a small part of him also wanted to believe, for his mate's sake, that there was enough humanity left in the portions master to feel guilt, so that he'd try to do the right thing.

Snape picked up the glasses, looked at them for the longest moment, and then with a grimace, threw them violently across the room.

Suddenly, all the preparations were done. Everything was packed, and shrunk down to fit into a muggle book bag that "Harry" had brought from the Dursley's; a cast-off of Dudley's. And now it was time to leave. Even though Dumbledore had refused to let classes out so people could say goodbye, 'most everyone who knew "Harry Potter" and "Draco Malfoy" had shown up to see them off. After a lot of hand-shaking, and hugs and tears from some of those being left behind, they were finally on their way.

Ron and Hermione had made up, or at least called a truce, in time to get to the leave-taking, and had insisted on walking with Conall and Drake "to the end of Hogwarts property, at least." It was probably a mistake. Little was said, and far from the silence being companionable, it turned out to be stressed, and awkward.

"Um... Har- Conall, I just noticed; where are your glasses?" Ron asked.

Conall's cheeks tinted a bit as he answered. "I gave them to Snape - as an object lesson."

Ron frowned. "Gave them to that greasy git? Why ever for? You need them, don't you?"

"I fixed my eyes in my second year. Brewed a potion," Harry explained.

Ron laughed. "Yeah, right, mate. And I'm the ruddy Queen of England. You're no better in potions that I am!"

"Not when Snape was around, anyway," Conall replied quietly.

Ron stared at his friend. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said, Ron. He intimidated the hell out of me first year, and has always made me nervous and jittery in his class since then. But after that fiasco in the Chamber of Secrets, fighting that basilisk, I decided that I couldn't depend on wearing glasses; what if they were knocked off or broken in a fight? I'd be nigh on to helpless! So, I started studying potions on my own, focussing on learning a potion to cure my eyesight. Near the end of third year, I successfully completed it; but let me tell you, there were some fairly hairy times with previous attempts!" Conall shuddered, then continued. "So anyway, I found that I'm actually rather good with potions - or rather, I was. Without wizarding magic..."

Drake decided to enter the conversation. "Without magic, the ingredients you put into a potion just become a disgusting glop."

Hearing the pain in his mate's voice, Conall stepped closer and took Drake's hand. "And for someone who was almost a potions genius, the loss must be especially painful."

"What do you mean, "almost?" I was a potions genius!" Drake sneered.

Conall chuckled. "Whatever you say, love," then leaned over and kissed the blond on the cheek.

"Hmph! Don't think that's going to get you off, 'Conall,'" Drake sniffed, haughtily.

Ron and Hermione were watching this by-play with fascination. For them, Conall's actions was like watching a mongoose playing with a poisonous snake.

Conall gave a low laugh at his husband's antics. "I'm glad you have a sense of humour about it, love."

Now Ron, at least, was looking at Conall as though he'd gone mad. This was humour?

Drake stopped walking, pulling Conall up short as well, then pulled his husband into a deep, heartfelt kiss. "I've been well compensated," he said.

"If there weren't so many people around, I'd take you right here, right now," Conall growled quietly into his lover's ear.

Drake shivered with delight over the mental image, then growled himself, that there were obstacles to making that image real. "That was cruel, lover," he whispered back. "You'd better make it up to me."

"As soon as possible," Conall answered, nuzzling the blonde's neck, then licking it from the base to his mate's jaw, causing Draco to arch his head up, and back; an instinctive, silent request for more of the same.

That was too much for Ron. "My eyes, my eyes! They'll never be innocent again! That was not a memory I needed, guys," he groaned.

Conall was a little annoyed, but mostly amused by Ron's theatrics. "Then don't look!" he said, grinning.

"Not that I want to get rid of you, or at least one of you, but the day isn't getting any younger," Hermione said.

Conall sighed. "Quite right, 'Mione. We need to get as far away as possible before dark. With so many Death Eaters interested in doing me in, there are bound to be at least a few spying on Hogwarts, looking for a chance to get at me; and now Drake, as well, I'm sure. Anything to hurt me."

"My, but we don't sound half full of ourselves, now do we?" Drake drawled. "It's not paranoia if someone is actually out to harm you, but you do take it to extremes, love."

Conall blushed. "Maybe," he mumbled, "but since we'd have a hard time defending ourselves right now, I don't want to take chances."

"Dobby and Twinkie good protectors! Master Conall no need to worry; we keep him and his mate safe!" Dobby declared.

Thinking back to certain events in his life involving the diminutive elf, Conall felt at least a little better. "I'm sure you can, Dobby. You too, Twinkie; and thank you."

"It be Dobby's duty! Dobby very happy to serve the master!" the elf replied. Twinkie was nodding furiously, agreeing with Dobby's every word.

"Well, as the saying goes, "The journey of a thousand miles begins with but a single step." I think we'd best start taking some steps."

"What saying is that, anyway? Sounds very simplistic," Drake remarked, as they headed off again.

"Actually, I don't remember who said it. It's from a famous muggle, anyway."

"Well, that..."

Drake was interrupted by Hermione, who didn't want to hear another "mudblood" comment. "Actually, that was a misquote. It was a famous Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu, who said "A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.""

"Trust you to know that, Granger," Drake said. He didn't put the usual venom in it, though, causing the young woman to glance at him in surprise, but she refrained from comment. For a change, so did Ron.

At the border of the school's property, there was another awkward leave-taking.

Hermione was crying, and fussing with Conall's shirt collar, just for something to keep her hands busy, and distract her a little from what was happening. "You be careful out there, you hear? The Death Eaters still want you dead, you know, and even more so now that Malfoy's dead. They blame you for that, somehow."

Ron had sidled up to them during this short speech, putting an arm around both Hermione and Conall, while leaving Drake, just a half-step away, out in the cold. Conall, noticing this, pulled slightly away from his friends, and pulled his lover into a one-armed hug, then attempted to pull him into the group hug as well, but Drake refused to join in, on principle. If he wasn't welcomed by Conall's friends to begin with, to be pulled in now only by his mate would be - demeaning.

Sensing his mate's dilemma, Conall gave his old friends one last, quick hug, and then rejoined his lover. Then addressing his old friends, he said "I hope we meet again, but if we don't, I just have this to say: Don't fill up the world with little red-heads!" He winked broadly at them, laughing, then turned to go.

"Yeah, mate? Well, I hope your life's so bloody boring, you get yourself a pack of children; even if they are half snarky blonde!" Ron replied, smirking at Drake.

"Love you, too, Weasley," Draco drawled, "but believe it or not, I think I'd like that. Well, making them, anyway."

"Oi, Malfoy! Now I'm going to have to wash my mind out with soap!" Ron groaned. "But you take good care of Har- Um, Conall. If that means you have to come back too, I'll deal with it. Good journey."

"May your cup never be empty, your trencher ever full, and the road you travel be smooth and dry," Hermione said. At everyone's confused stares, she said "An old Celtic travel blessing, I think. Even if it's not, I just thought it was appropriate," she explained, blushing.

"Thank you, Hermione," Conall said, hugging her. When he released her, he left her with an admonishment. "You take care of this red-headed git, now, and keep him out of trouble!"

"Hey! I can take care of myself, Harry!" the red-head said, blushing. At Conall's raised eyebrow, Ron corrected himself. "Um... Conall, I mean. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Ron. It's not like you're going to have much chance to practice, anyway."

At that, Hermione started crying, again. "Hey, where's that Gryffindor courage, 'Mione? You're going to make the House look bad," Conall said gently, wiping a tear away. "Hey, Ron - aren't you the one that should be comforting your girlfriend?"

Ron stepped in, shame-faced, and gathered Hermione into his arms. "It's been great, mate. You'll be coming back someday, won't you?"

Frowning, Conall replied. "I don't know, Ron. Maybe someday," 'if we live,' was the unspoken part of that sentence.

With a final round of hugs, including Drake this time, they parted; the Gryffindors heading back towards Hogwarts, the Veela couple and their elven guides/protectors heading off towards the north-east, and an as-yet-unknown destination.

After a couple of hours of travel, Conall had a revelation, and shared it with his lover. "You know, Drake, I'm rather glad to be out from under all that back there; even Ron and Hermione," tossing it out as though commenting on the weather.

Drake stopped a moment in shock, then hurried to catch up. "You're - glad - to be shut of Granger and Weasley?"

Conall shrugged. "They were good friends, but they were smothering me half to death! Couldn't make a move without them fussing or having to be with me. A person needs their space every once in a while."

"Even from me?" Drake asked quietly.

Conall laughed. "Don't get your hopes up, Drake! You're more than a friend; you're more an extension of myself, and I'm not about to part with any bit of me!"

Drake smirked, waggling his eyebrows at his mate. "None of it?"

Conall blushed, but allowed that certain - fluids - could certainly be let go of, if they went somewhere where they were appreciated.

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They had managed about thirty kilometres before they were finally forced to stop and set up camp. The route Dobby was taking them on steered quite wide of human habitation. That only made sense; if you were a magical creature trying to avoid detection, there were bound to be such trails mapped out, and the elves would know of them.

After preparing the campsite, and everyone had gone behind the bushes to relieve themselves, Dobby and Twinkie prepared to ward the site for the night. Each went to opposite sides of the campsite, and faced inward towards the centre. They held their hands slightly out to their sides, then with a quick up-and-down movement of their arms, a sparkling blue dome appeared, the perimeter just behind them, then faded from view.

Dobby and Twinkie then got busy preparing a meal for the boys. Conall and Drake just sat back on a blanket and tried to recuperate from the day's exertions.

Suddenly Drake turned to his mate. "So are we going to carry on with this farce, or can we drop it, now?"

"What?" the raven-haired lad inquired.

"This bloody name nonsense! I fell in love with Harry Potter, not 'Conall D'LumiÃ¨re.' I don't mind keeping the last name, since it has far more class than Potter, Potter-Malfoy or Malfoy-Potter, but I want my Harry back!"

Surprised at this outburst, the former Gryffindor looked at his mate, only to find unshed tears filling those silvery-grey eyes. "It means that much to you? Why didn't you say anything at the ceremony?"

"Well, I was just as overset with the old fool's attempts at manipulation as you were, wasn't I? Couldn't let him get away with it, could I? So I followed your lead, didn't I?" the blonde said, accusingly.

"Draco! Street English? Where did you pick that up?"

The younger man mumbled something that Conall, who was now reconsidering the name, didn't quite catch. "What was that?"

"The gardeners, alright?" Draco almost shouted. "They were my only company, most of the time. Father didn't mind that so much, but he didn't half put the boot in when I started talking like them. Like that, for instance. That's when the house elves took over their work. Never did learn if they were merely let go, or if something worse happened to them."

"So, since you called me Draco, may I assume that we're taking back our original first names?" Draco asked, hopefully.

"If it means that much to you, my love, then may I put Harry D'LumiÃ¨re at your service? I mainly did it to foil Dumbledore, anyway."

"If you're at my service, Harry, then service me."

"Any time, Draco," Harry replied, "but we seem to be lacking in privacy."

Draco didn't answer; he just jumped Harry, hungrily, eagerly capturing his lips, arms wrapped 'round him like a strangling vine. Harry decided that if Draco could ignore his upbringing enough to forget propriety and the need for privacy, then he could do no less. He was only dimly aware of Twinkie casting privacy charms and wards around them as he rolled a willing Draco over, beneath him.

Looking down into the smiling face of his lover, Harry was struck anew with how much he loved this young man. The tenderness he felt far outweighed his lust, though that was undeniably there. He slowly lowered his head, and gently kissed his husband's lips, lingering, exploring as though it were the first time he'd done so. When his neck got tired, he licked his way along Draco's jaw to his ear, where he did a little nibbling before attacking the sensitive spot behind the earlobe with his tongue, causing his bonded to moan with pleasure and delight.

Draco's hands were wandering over all of Harry's body that he could reach, occasionally gripping tightly as his husband played with a particularly sensitive spot, grasping most often at Harry's arse or in his hair. Eventually he started getting impatient, wanting more, and started fumbling with his mate's clothing. It was challenging, with the dark-haired young man not cooperating, but seeming to mindlessly keep up with his ministrations. Draco knew, through their link, that his lover was teasing him, and awkwardly hit Harry in the arm. "Git! Help me!"

Pretending innocence, Harry asked "Help you with what, love?"

"Stop playing dumb, Harry!" Draco pouted. "You're not cooperating!"

Grinning, Harry said, between little love bites here and there on his love's body, "Oh? - And - what - do you - need - help - with?"

This treatment had Draco gasping and squeaking; he'd never seen his lover like this, and though he was a bit uncertain, he thought he liked it. But now he was having trouble concentrating on getting words out. Finally, he managed one: "Naked..." he gasped out - then another, "now!"

As is always the case when one is in a hurry, inanimate objects become perverse, and refuse to cooperate. Finally, however, they were free of constraints, free to see, feel, taste, every square centimetre of skin. Harry proceeded to give his mate a tongue bath, revelling in the smell of his husband after a long day's walking, the clean sweaty taste as his tongue entered every hollow and crevice of his mate's body, before taking Draco's manhood into his mouth, exulting in its silky hardness and the juices weeping from its tip. He worshipped it with his mouth, laved it with his tongue, and took its full length into his throat as Draco writhed under him, hands gripped tightly in Harry's raven locks, urging him on. Harry felt his mate's impending release coming ever closer, and backed off, wanting to taste every drop of his love's offering.

Draco sensed that desire through their link, and suppressed his urge to thrust deeply into his mate's throat; not that he suffered for that decision, because Harry was doing wicked things with his tongue to the head of his cock. Finally, he could hold back no more, and exploded into his lover's mouth, flooding it with his cream, pulsing out his lust, over and over again.

Harry swallowed quickly, not wishing to waste a drop, but still a small bit dribbled out the corner of his mouth, although he didn't notice it. When Draco stopped cumming, he carefully cleaned his lover's cock, and then moved up to kiss him.

Draco noticed the dribble, and licked it off his husband's face before giving him a thank-you kiss that was no less passionate and deep for its tenderness. Then he reached down between his husband's legs and stroked the hardness there a few times before raising his own legs and offering himself up. He guided his mate to his entrance, and arched into it as he was penetrated. The feel of his lover's hot hardness filling him was exquisite in itself, but when Harry very gently and deliberately hit his prostate, he couldn't help but moan and arch into it. Draco was hard again. They fell into a rhythm, each arcing to meet the other; harder and faster, sweat beading up on their skins. Sharing what they were feeling with each other only intensified their passion, building to a mighty climax; and they did, together, at the same moment.

In the afterglow, Harry stayed coupled with his mate, lowering his head to tenderly, tiredly, kiss Draco's eyes, his nose, his lips - anything and everything he could reach without much effort. To his surprise, he stayed hard, but he could feel that Draco was becoming hungry, and he had to admit that his own stomach was complaining of neglect. "Mmmm... I'd love another round with you, you delectable creature, but I believe we need to think of other needs now; like food?"

Draco gave a light chuckle. "I'd rather stay attached to you, but unfortunately, I think you may be right. Later?"

"Food now; loving later."

"That's what I meant, you git, and you know it!"

Harry gave a warning thrust. "Now, is that any way to talk, for someone in your position?"

At the thrust, Draco had instinctively thrust back. "Ah! Keep that up, and supper will be ruined before we get to it!"

"What? This?" Harry gave another thrust, then stopped.

"Uh! Harry! Later! - I think. Maybe..."

Harry laughed, and then gently pulled out of his mate, causing a groan of disappointment, and a pout to form on the young blond man's face. "Spoilsport."

That occasioned a full belly laugh. Draco tried to keep a pout on his face, but couldn't restrain a grin at having caused his mate's laughter. They wiped themselves off as best they could with a cloth, dressed, and then left the charmed area to rejoin the elves, and supper.

Chapter Fourteen

When Harry woke the next morning, it was cold, so he backed up, snuggling closer to his mate. It wasn't long before Draco, too, awoke. Finding his husband snuggled up so closely, he gently tightened his arms around him, to let him know that he was awake. As was usual, both had awakened with morning erections. Without saying a word, Harry reached back between them, and guided his mate into himself. Draco gently sheathed himself in his lover, and slowly, lazily, pumped into him, slowly building up the tension. He dropped one hand to wrap gently around Harry's member, and pumped it in the same tempo as he was using to make love to the raven-haired young man. He kept it slow, but as the crescendo neared, he couldn't help but increase the intensity of his thrusts, making them just that much harder, and deeper. At such a slow tempo, it had taken them a long time to reach that level, so when they finally came, it was with such intensity that every muscle in their bodies strained to their utmost, and both came close to losing consciousness. As it was, it took them quite some time to recover.

"Gods! That was - the best!" Harry finally gasped out.

"It was certainly something else, love; but I think I still prefer you in me." Draco weakly replied.

"Really?" Harry asked, turning to face his lover.

"Do you truly think I'd say anything like that if it wasn't true? My father would have had my balls if he'd had even an inkling that I'd prefer being receptive rather than active. So yes, lover, while I quite enjoy doing you, I do prefer having you in me. Happy, now?"

"Mm... I love you so much, Draco." Harry replied, idly stroking the blonde's cheek and jaw-line. "I like it either way, but I love how protective I feel of you when I'm making love to you, so as long as I get to have you in me at least once in a while, I'm quite happy with that arrangement. Okay?" Harry asked, kissing the blonde on the tip of his nose.

"Very okay." Draco whispered. "Now; kiss me properly?" he asked coyly. Harry did: And then Harry gave Draco what he really wanted.

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They had a late start that morning. They broke their fast, again made use of the bushes, and though Harry started to help pack the camp, the elves had become so horrified that "the Master" was doing manual labour, that he had to leave off, and go sit with Draco until they were done. It didn't take long. In fact, it was only minutes before it looked as though no one had ever been there before. "Okay; is everyone ready to go?" Harry asked. With everyone's assurances that they were, he had another question "Where are we going, Dobby?" he asked as they started off.

The elf's head and shoulders drooped, and walking shame-faced beside him, said "Dobby not allowed to tell the Master." With such large eyes, the tears gathering there were quite obvious. "Dobby can only take the Master there." If Harry hadn't prevented it, the elf would have started bashing his head against one of the low boulders that lay around.

"And just why, elf, are you not allowed to tell Harry where you're taking us?" Draco asked, coldly.

Dobby cringed, memories of beatings from Draco's father brought to mind by the tone of voice. "Dobby die if he tells. Thraia will kill Dobby," he wailed.

Draco's ire subsided. He could well understand the need for self-preservation. He didn't like heading blindly off into the wilderness, nor his mate being denied, but this... He sighed, frustrated. It didn't help that he was feeling Harry's annoyance with him; and yes, he knew why, but that didn't change anything. He would do what he had to in order help his mate, and let Harry know it with the stubborn look he sent him.

Harry got the message, and smiled wryly. He might be annoyed with Draco's methods, but he couldn't fault his mate's loyalty or intentions. Turning to his young husband, Harry gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and said "Sorry, love; I know you mean well."

Draco nodded, accepting the apology. But he also 'heard' Harry's hope that he'd find gentler ways of expressing himself. It wasn't going to happen, as far as he was concerned. He might let down all of his defences, at least most of the time, when dealing directly with his raven-haired mate, but the rest of the world had provided too much hurt, betrayed him too many times, for him to give up the methods that had proved so work so well in dealing with it.

Harry was thinking along the same lines about his mate, but knew that Draco's "hurt before they can hurt you" philosophy would have to change. It would take time, though - perhaps a long time - but they had a lifetime, and it would be a gentle labour of love to guide his young, blonde lover to a less aggressive mode of interaction.

Shortly after noon, they stopped for lunch. The elves had prepared it in advance while they were preparing breakfast that morning, so there was no need for a fire, and Twinkie heated those things that needed heating with magic. As she handed Draco and Harry steaming mugs of tea, Harry noticed that she seemed much happier today. "You look like you're in a very good mood, Twinkie!" Harry noted jovially.

Twinkie blushed, but she wasn't the only one; Dobby had some colour in his cheeks, as well. 'Huh! I wonder if that means what I think it does? Never occurred to me think about the mating habits of house elves,' Harry thought to Draco.

'Nor to anyone else, I'd wager.' Draco replied.

'I suppose we should probably not pry?' Harry said regretfully. 'I don't know elf protocol about such things, and I don't want to offend them; especially since we're more or less dependent on them for our survival at present.'

'You have a point - but you're one of their "royalty," according to them, so... But for one of their own to threaten to kill them for so little a thing!' Draco was still chewing over the threats made to the house elf.

'Remember, Draco, that the one called Thraia was going to kill Dobby merely for being wrong about our blood inheritance.'

'They're no better than humans in that way then, are they,' Draco replied.

'Perhaps not, but we can't judge a whole race by one or two individuals. Hopefully, she was an exception.'

'The other two didn't seem to make a fuss about Dobby's impending death.'

'But the male - Folmar? - did argue for him, love.'

Draco had to agree, albeit reluctantly. 'But I can't help but wonder if he would have done anything should Thraia have decided to ignore his argument.'

Harry shrugged. 'We'll probably never know.'

From an outsider's perspective, this silent conversation would have looked most strange indeed; two young men sitting silently, slightly facing each other, various expressions and emotions crossing their faces at odd intervals, body language constantly changing... And unbeknownst to them, there was an observer.

It had been quite difficult to track the small party; only being made possible by a pretty button that had been be-spelled as a tracking charm, and given to Dobby as a going-away present. The watcher had no idea how they were travelling so quickly, even to crossing seas, but assumed it was elven magic. She slipped away a short while later, only to disapparate as soon as she was far enough away for it not to be detected; or, if detected, ignored.

Looking up from their conversation, Harry looked out towards the north-east horizon; their direction of travel. It was most strange indeed that there should be mountains in this direction, and mentioned it to Draco, who agreed "...unless, of course, we aren't travelling solely by foot, but passing through subtle travel-warps."

Harry looked bemused. "Travel warps?" he asked.

"I've heard of them," Draco said, "but only in passing, during the telling of a myth about elves." He looked at Dobby and Twinkie suspiciously. "Since we do seem to be somewhere we shouldn't have reached by walking alone, it's the only theory I can come up with." Turning to their guide, he asked "Are we travelling with the use of travel warps, Dobby?"

Dobby couldn't look him full in the face as he answered. "What does Mister Draco mean, please?"

Before his mate could reply, Harry spoke. "No evasions, Dobby. Tell the truth."

Dobby couldn't bring himself to prevaricate with royalty. His shoulders slumped in defeat, as Twinkie looked on in alarm. "Yes, Master Harry. Dobby take you on the 'Elvish Way.' It be enchanted to make travel shorter." What he didn't say was that they were no longer on the same body of land that they'd started out on.

"Thank you, Dobby. We won't tell anyone that you've told us," Harry replied, gently.

'We won't?' Draco asked.

'We won't!'

'But the money!' Draco protested.

'Do you know how to travel it? To activate it? And even if you did, would it be worth a life?'

'It's only a house elf...' Draco "muttered."

Harry punched his upper arm. "All lives are precious, Draco!"

"Even my father's?" Draco asked, aloud.

Harry hesitated. "I'm tempted to say that there are exceptions to every rule, but yes, even your father's. Now that he's dead, he can't change. Still, he's no longer a danger to others, either." Slipping an arm around his mate, he drew him close. "It's so much easier to talk in generalities than in specifics, love. I hate the thought of having to kill, and yet I know that there are times that one must kill, in order to live; to stay safe. I don't like saying this about anyone, especially since he was your father, but I think the world is probably a safer place without Lucius in it. Forgive me?"

Draco nodded, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "It hurts - but I know you're right." His head was suddenly too heavy to hold up, and he laid it on his raven-haired mate's shoulder, the change of angle allowing his tears, finally, to overflow. Still, his voice was remarkably steady as he said "I just wish it could have been different."

Harry nodded, eyes staring into the distance as he thought of his own parental situation. "So do I, belovéd, so do I."

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"They're moving into the foohills of the mountains of Carpathia. I scouted around, and if we move quickly, there is a perfect spot for an ambush about two hours' walk from where they are now; provided the house elves do not move them by magic yet again before they reach that point." The watcher's voice was filled with such hatred and loathing that even such hardened characters as made up this cell of the Death Eaters were made uneasy; not at the prospect of violence, but the chance that the speaker may be less than sane. Still, another such chance at vengeance as this, with little to no chance of witnesses or discovery, would be hard to find.

Another figure, male, stood up to address the gathering. "What say you all? Shall we, then, avenge the Great Malfoy?" At the question, all those gathered there raised a mighty shout of "AYE!" That person then turned to the watcher; "There is your answer, Miss Parkinson; we leave immediately you provide us with apparating coordinates."

Pansy Parkinson smiled, causing many who saw it to shudder.

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Yes, he had been a Seeker, but no Quidditch player worth his salt stayed ignorant of how to play all the positions on the team, even if he or she wasn't any good at any of the others - a rarity. Most players were good in at least two positions, and Harry had practiced enough to be good at all of them. He had still been best as a Seeker, but now his Chaser skills came into play; that is to say, his throwing arm.

Harry and Draco both had caught the slight movement of black up ahead (a sharp eye for detail being a side-effect of being a good Quidditch Seeker), and Dobby and Twinkie had quickly raised shields for the four of them. But those shields were constantly having to be renewed as curse after curse hit them, some few getting through, causing Harry, Draco and the two elves to duck, dodge and roll as necessary to avoid them. Dobby and Twinkie were so busy with protecting them from flying spells and hexes, that they had no time for counter-measures, which left it up to two young men who had no usable magic to try to find a way to take the battle to the attackers. Harry had thought of it first, when a reasonably-sized rock fell into his hand during a duck-and-roll maneouver, and snapped it towards one of the white-masked, black-robed figures opposing them, and, incidentally, killing the Death Eater. He had all but forgotten about his preternatural strength.

"Draco!" Harry yelled. "Throw rocks at them!"

The instruction had been unnecessary, as the blonde had seen Harry's move, and quickly made to emulate it. He wasn't about to go down without a fight.

"Take that you bastards!" Draco yelled, his throw coinciding with the stressed word. He grinned when he saw his rock his its' mark, but didn't wait to see what its effect might be, immediately searching out and grabbing another good-sized rock. Fortunately, there was a plethora. Unfortunately, there were just too many Death Eaters. Draco saw a vicious curse graze his belovéd, and saw him go down. With a growl, he redoubled his efforts, but then he saw Dobby go down, and then his own luck ran out, as a Cruciatus curse hit him, then some other spell; one that caused him to black out; so Twinkie was the only one to see what happened next.

A large, dark shape plunged out of the sky, out of the sun, a rain of fire preceding it, touching here, there - anywhere a dark-robed figure stood. And since their intended victims, minus one small house elf, were down, all who were capable were standing or in the process of doing so. A few managed to send off a curse or two, but they seemed to bounce off the menacing figure. Seeing that, the remaining Death Eaters tried to escape, but only a few retained enough sense to disapparate - the rest perished.

When Harry awoke, his whole body felt like one large bruise, but the worst pain was the one in his head. He had been hit by a Cruciatus curse, and had hit his head on a large rock when he collapsed from the pain, knocking him out. His first thought, of course, was for his mate. He 'knew' that his mate was alive, but there was no other input coming from him. But when he moved to look around him for his bonded, the first thing to hit his eyes had him freeze motionless in shock. A dragon. A wild dragon; black, with midnight green overtones, and not one of a type that he'd been taught of at Hogwarts. As he stared, caught between wonder and fear that this might be another life-threatening menace, he became aware of a sense of amusement - and it wasn't his, nor was it his mate's.

"THERE IS NOTHING TO FEAR, YOUNGLING."

Startled, Harry replied. "So you say. Where is my mate?"

"AH, YES. THE LITTLE FIERCE ONE. HE IS JUST BEHIND YOU - STILL UNCONSCIOUS, BUT I BELIEVE HE WILL BE ALRIGHT."

Harry turned as far as he was able without losing sight of the... Beast? Being? He shook his head to clear it of the confusion; a mistake, as pain exploded in it, threatening to send him unconscious once again. But his vision cleared, and there was his belovéd Draco; pale, unconsious, looking pained, but with no visible wounds. Well, there wouldn't be, would there? The Death Eaters weren't firing arrows or throwing spears, they were firing off hexes and throwing curses. Still, he was breathing, and where there was life, there was hope - if not of health, then at least of healing.

"QUITE RIGHT, YOUNGLING."

Harry looked back to the dragon; not that he'd ever looked completely away. "Are you reading my mind?"

"IT'S HOW WE COMMUNICATE." The dragon's 'tone' wasn't quite apologetic, but it was explanatory.

"Look, I can't just keep thinking of you as "the dragon," and I'm sure I shouldn't think of you as a beast, so what do I call you?" Harry asked, exasperatedly. He was quite frustrated with the whole situation. 'Speaking of situations, weren't there some Death Eaters around here earlier?' he thought to himself.

"AND WHY SHOULDN'T YOU THINK OF ME AS A BEAST? IT'S WHAT I AM; IT'S WHAT YOU ARE, AND ALL OTHER LIVING, MOVING THINGS THAT AREN'T PLANTS OR MAGICAL CONSTRUCTS. BUT YOU MAY CALL ME ASTROFEL," the dragon said. "AS FOR THOSE THINGS YOU CALL 'DEATH EATERS,' MOST ARE DEAD. UNFORTUNATELY, A FEW OF THEM GOT AWAY."

"You killed them?"

"MOST OF THEM, ALTHOUGH YOU AND YOUR MATE DIDN'T DO BADLY. BUT WHY DIDN'T YOU USE YOUR MAGIC? EITHER OF YOU COULD HAVE WIPED THEM FROM EXISTENCE."

Harry had managed to move to a position to put his lover's head in his lap, and had done so during this conversation. Now, smoothing the blonde's brow, he said "You truly believe we're that powerful, do you? Well, that's why we're travelling; to get to the Veela homeland to get some training. We need to learn how to use whatever power we now have. We were wizards, until our genetics caught up to us. Then our magic changed. No more wizarding for us." Harry's voice showed the bitterness he felt. He'd never show it in front of his mate, since his instincts forced him to try to make life as pleasant for his bonded as possible, but he wasn't nearly as sanguine as he made himself appear.

"YOU ARE A VEELA ROYAL, ARE YOU NOT?"

Harry only nodded, but evidently this dragon was familiar with human conventions.

"DO THEY KNOW OF YOUR EXISTENCE?"

Harry nodded again. "They forced this journey on us to prove ourselves worthy," Harry spat out.

"THEN THEY WILL NOT WELCOME YOU, SHOULD YOU MAKE IT TO THEIR DEMESNE," Astrofel said, soberly.

"I thought that might be the case," Harry admitted, "but we have little choice. Without training, we are either dead, or must live as Muggles. My mate would not be happy living as a Muggle." It was clear from his tone that to Harry, that last choice, then, was no choice at all.

Astrofel seemed to be deep in thought - then, "ARE YOU AND YOUR MATE THE ONES WITH THE TRIPLE BOND?"

Harry nodded again.

"THEN YOU ARE THE ONES CALLED 'THE DRAGON MASTER' AND 'THE HEALING HAND'?"

Harry shrugged. "I think it's a lot of nonsense, but that's what was said through Dobby." At that, Harry finally remembered the house elves, and begain looking worriedly around for them.

"I WONDERED WHEN YOU WOULD REMEMBER THEM. THEY'RE FINE. I SENT THEM HOME, THOUGH TO YOUR CREDIT, THEY DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE."

Harry stared at the dragon for minute, assimilating this, and it's implications. "You knew who we were all along. You knew our magic didn't work. You let us be attacked. Why?" He was barely holding his anger in control.

"YOU ONLY HAVE ONE THING CORRECT. I KNEW WHO YOU WERE. I DID HOPE TO TALK WITH YOU LONGER BEFORE YOU FOUND THAT OUT, HOWEVER. I WANTED TO GET TO KNOW YOU A LITTLE BETTER. AS FOR YOUR MAGIC, YOU DO HAVE A PROBLEM, THERE. SINCE THE VEELA NOW IN POWER AREN'T GOING TO WELCOME YOU, IT IS ALMOST A CERTAINTY THAT ANY TRAINING YOU RECEIVE FROM THEM WOULD BE - LESS THAN EXEMPLARY. WITH THAT FACT, YOUR POWER LEVEL, THE PRONOUNCEMENT AT YOUR BONDING, AND YOUR AURA, I THINK IT MIGHT BE BEST TO TAKE YOU TO OUR DEMESNE, INSTEAD. - AH! YOUR MATE WAKENS. HAS HE ALWAYS HAD SUCH GOOD TIMING?" Astrofel's humor was evident, and Harry had to smile.

"Good or bad, he always seems to show up just when you least expect him," he said, affectionately.

"Not so loud, Harry; my head hurts!" Draco complained.

"I'm just glad that you're alive to have it hurt you!" Harry whispered.

At that, Draco's memories of the battle came back, and he paled. "Are you okay? Did we win? We must have; otherwise, we'd be dead. How did we win? Are you alright?"

Harry grinned. "The worst of it is a headache, I think. Otherwise, yes, I'm fine, love."

Looking up at his mate and sensing the truth of this through their link, Draco brought his hand up to the base of Harry's head, and pulled it down where he could reach his love's lips, giving him a very gentle, but very possessive kiss. Then he moaned. His head really was killing him. "Where's Dobby? I need a pain potion from the pack."

"The potions! My head was throbbing so badly, I forgot all about them!" Harry exclaimed. "Shit! Dobby's gone!"

Draco's eyes widened. "Those black-robed gits killed him? What about the other one?"

"No, no, no, love. According to Astrofel, Dobby and Twinkie are both fine - he just sent them home." Harry explained.

Draco frowned. "And just who, mind you, is this 'Astrofel,' and how in the nine hells did he convince house elves to abandon their duty to their masters?" he asked, petulantly. "Who's going to get me my pain potion?"

Harry laughed gently. "If you'll let me stop being your pillow for a minute or two, I'll get us both a pain potion; okay?" Harry said, indulgently.

"I wondered why my pillow was so soft and lumpy..." Draco said, as he painfully struggled to sit up.

"Just my lap, love," Harry explained, as he slowly moved over to their supplies and started looking for the potions box.

"You never did say who convinced those blasted house elves to leave us out here in the middle of nowhere," Draco complained.

Harry looked blankly at his blonde mate, who was sitting with his back to the dragon. "Just look over your shoulder, love - but don't worry, I don't think he plans on harming us." He was looking forward to Draco's reaction. "Ah! Here they are!" He said, retrieving the potions box.

Giving Harry a quizzical scowl, Draco turned half around, craning his neck the rest of the way to see behind him. At sight of the dragon, he gave a very high-pitched scream, and scrambled quickly to put Harry between himself and the large creature just 30 feet away.

"'The little fierce one.' Yeah, right," Harry muttered to himself, and chuckled, handing Draco one of the pain potions, and downing another himself.

"I heard that, Harry!" Draco sputtered indignantly. "I'd bet you reacted the same way! What's it doing here, anyway?" He drank his pain potion, not taking his eyes off the dragon for even a second.

"'IT' HAS A NAME: ASTROFEL, AND I'M A MALE. YOU CAN ALSO TALK TO ME DIRECTLY - I'M NOT DEAF. I'M HERE BECAUSE I SAVED YOU FROM THOSE BLACK-ROBES."

Draco's eyes went wide. "Did you hear that?" he asked Harry.

"Yes. Astrofel communicates by telepathy," Harry replied.

"Oh, well, that's just fine, then. That says it all, doesn't it? Tells the whole story. I now know..."

"Draco? Shut it."

The blonde stared at his mate, mouth gaping. No one he cared about had ever talked to him like that. It shocked him so badly, he forgot all about the dragon. The dragon in question was enjoying himself hugely. He'd never seen such antics in any race, as these two acted out.

"Shut it. Shut it? Shut it?"

"Or I'll spank you," Harry said. "If you're going to act like a brat, rather than ask for clarification, you deserve it. And you are acting like a brat."

Draco stared at him, as he said "You wouldn't dare." Checking their link, he changed his mind. "Yes, you would!" He backed away from his mate a few steps, hands moving to protect his arse. "Harry, if you so much as..." He didn't get any further, as Harry leaped at him. Draco only managed to turn and take half a step before he was caught, and in no time, he found himself face-down over his mate's lap.

"Harry!" Draco yelled, in a panic. "This is no way to behave in front of strangers!"

Harry paused. "So it's the way to behave in front of friends?" he asked.

"No!!"

"Oh. Well, then." Addressing the dragon, he asked "Do you mind?"

"IS THIS SOME SORT OF MATING RITUAL?" Astrofel asked, mental laughter evident.

Harry cocked his head to one side. "It's been known be a part of them, yes." Harry replied. "But in this case, I'm using it as a behavioural correction technique." After a second of reflection, he added "And I'm finding it a bit of a turn-on, as well."

Draco had been making a show of struggling, but at this, he redoubled his efforts. "Harry, you perverted..."

Smack!

"Ow! Harry, you..."

Smack! "Are you sure you want to keep defying me, love?"

What came out of Draco's mouth would have made a whore blush.

"OH, VERY GOOD! I HAVEN'T HEARD SOME OF THOSE, BEFORE."

"Excuse me, Astrofel. I believe I have my work cut out for me." Harry said.

For the next couple of minutes, all you could hear was Harry's flat hand smacking Draco's upturned arse, and Draco's cursing, interspersed with the occasional reminder from the raven-haired lad that this behaviour was exactly what was keeping his hand moving as it was. Finally, Draco became silent, and Harry's hand stopped one 'smack' later. "Are you going to behave yourself, my love?" Harry asked, soothing his mate's arse with the same hand that had been spanking him.

Draco craned his head around, and glared at his mate, tears streaking his cheeks. "Well?" Harry urged.

"You're dead, Harry," Draco said, trying to put on a show of defiance.

"Are you going to behave yourself?"

Draco gave up, and nodded his head. Harry let him up, but wrapped his arms around his mate, kissing him and stroking his back and buttocks. Draco tried to push away, but Harry wouldn't let him. After a very brief, half-hearted struggle, Draco relaxed into his lover's arms.

"I love you, Draco." Harry whispered in the blonde's ear.

Draco might have been defeated, but he was still embarassed and a little angry, even as he revelled in the feel of his lover's arms around him. He stayed silent.

"IS IT OVER? DO YOU MATE, NOW?"

Harry blushed, and he could feel Draco's face get hotter, as well. "Um... I didn't say that it was a mating ritual for us, Astrofel." Harry corrected. Draco adjusted his head a little, and nipped Harry's neck with his teeth. "Ah! But it's a possibility when we're alone, next," he added.

"Don't count on it, Harry." Draco growled.

"ACTUALLY, I SENSE A VERY HIGH LIBIDO LEVEL FOR YOU BOTH," Astrofel said, "BUT IF YOU'RE NOT GOING TO ACT ON IT NOW, WE MAY AS WELL GET STARTED."

"Busted..." Harry half-sang.

"Git," Draco replied. Then, stepping away from his belovéd, and addressing the dragon, he said "Get started? Okay, I'm going to assume you're taking us somewhere, but where, and how? And what about our supplies?"

"GATHER EVERYTHING TOGETHER THAT YOU WISH TO TAKE WITH YOU," Astrofel directed.

"Hold on," Harry replied. For some odd reason, he'd entirely forgotten about the Death Eaters until now, when he'd caught sight of one of them. He slowly approached the body.

"Harry, don't." Draco said, worriedly. "As long as they're faceless, it doesn't matter so much. What if people we know are among them? Harry? Please?"

Harry didn't heed the warning. "When you're responsible for something, you need to take responsibility for it," he said.

"What are we responsible for, Harry? Defending ourselves? Trying to stay alive? Would it be better if we were the ones laying there? They came after us."

Harry looked at his mate. "You have a point, Draco; a good one. But I still want to know who tried to kill us." And so saying, he removed the mask from the body, looked, and replaced it. Not saying a word, he did the same with the few others whose bodies weren't too burned to identify. Then, still silent, he began gathering and repacking those supplies that had been scattered during, and after, the battle. A few moments later, he adressed the dragon again. "Astrofel - is there anything that can be done to properly dispose of the bodies? No. Never mind. You said a few got away. They'll probably take care of their own."

Draco couldn't stand it any more; his curiousity got the best of him. "Well? Anyone we knew?" he asked quietly.

"I thought you didn't want to know."

"I didn't. But now that you know..."

"There were a few I recognised," Harry said, grimly.

"Who?"

Harry stopped, and looked the blonde in the eyes. "I don't think you want to know, love," he warned.

"I know I don't - but I have to." Draco replied quietly.

Harry paused, considering, then "Crabbe and Goyle's fathers, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson, a few Slytherins I didn't know - and Pansy Parkinson. I didn't recognise anyone else."

"Pansy? By the gods... I didn't like her, but that she could hate us that much..." Draco wasn't sure how to feel; right now he was rather numb. "I'd rather not know who the other Slytherins were, I think," he decided.

Harry looked sideways at his mate, giving him a somewhat inscrutable look. He had a hunch that Pansy was after revenge on his mate, rather than on himself, but he wasn't going to say so. The Muggle saying "Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned" came to his mind. But he was grateful to his mate; no-one else had ever explained to him just why he shouldn't feel guilty about an enemy's death, nor so well. It helped. It didn't stop the guilt entirely, but it helped.

"I think that's everything, Astrofel. What now?" Harry asked.

"STAND CLOSE TO IT, AND HOLD HANDS." the dragon replied.

Harry and Draco held hands, and immediately felt better for the contact. A few seconds later, a white glow surrounded them, and their surroundings changed. Before them, now, was a huge cavern with, at various heights and intervals, holes of various sizes. Wide tiers led down to a floor, to one side of which were nine - chairs (for lack of a better word) - designed for dragon physiology. Nor was the place empty. Dragons and humans of all ages were engaged in a myriad of activities, from food preparation to play.

Chapter Fifteen

Dragons and humans of all ages were engaged in a myriad of activities, from food preparation to play.

"BUSY, ISN'T IT?" came the now-familiar 'voice' of Astrofel, from behind them.

Spinning on their toes, the young men were surprised to find - not the dragon they had been expecting to see, but a man in his late twenties. "I thought I heard Astrofel," Harry said.

This man was about six foot tall, a wrestler's build, a swarthy complexion, a broad, though not fat, face, black hair and green eyes. "You did," said the man, grinning, "I am he."

"Pull the other one; it has bells on," Harry scoffed.

"WOULD THIS CONVINCE YOU?"

"What are you, a morpher? A shape-changer?" Harry asked, growing suspicious.

"Neither, really. I am a dragon, but I am capable of taking on a human form. Many of us are," he said, sweeping his arm around to indicate the others in the cavern-like enclosure.

"You mean they're all dragons, too?" Harry inquired.

"Humans aren't allowed, here." Astrofel replied.

"What of us? You brought us here," Draco said, superciliously.

Astrofel just stared at him calmly, waiting for 'the other shoe to drop.' It did.

"Oh," Draco said, blushing.

Harry chuckled, drawing his lover to him. "Hey, Draco, what matters is not the body so much, but the mind. We're still us, so what does it matter?"

Draco drew his head back to look at Harry's face. "You know I was brought up to believe only pure-blooded wizards were worth anything, Harry. It's not easy to forget it all, even when you find out it's all rubbish!" His mischievous side wasn't through, however. "You're sure the body doesn't matter?" he purred, rubbing himself on his mate.

Harry coloured a bit, but ignoring his mate's teasing and dropping the subject, Harry turned back to Astrofel. "So you can all transform into humans?"

"No, not even half of us. You have to have the talent for it. Both of you do, you know."

"What? Have the talent to transform into humans? Bloody marvellous," Draco sneered.

"Draco, can you please hold your tongue if you can't be civil?" Harry begged.

Draco glared at him.

Harry sighed. "Your last spanking was only about fifteen minutes ago; do you really want another one so soon?"

Draco pondered whether he'd be able to punch his mate out. Considering their circumstances, he decided it mightn't be a very good idea (and didn't think much of his chances, anyway), so restrained himself. Instead, he decided to play the childish lover (he felt so naughty when he did), and pouted at his mate.

"Oh, hush," Harry said, but he couldn't resist giving those pouting lips a quick peck.

Draco smiled, pleased. He'd won, even if not in the way he'd originally intended.

Harry sensed his mate's smugness, and decided to sort his lover out later, at leisure. He may not have been a Slytherin, but he could have been, and, as the cruel Muggle saying went, there was more than one way to skin a cat.

Suddenly, though fully clothed, Draco felt very naked.

Their presence hadn't gone unnoticed by the others in the cavernous place, as evidenced by curious glances that had been shot their way ever since their appearance, but none were rude enough to interrupt. Acquaintance or sating curiosity could come later.

"So what do we do now, Astrofel?" Harry asked, noting, at the same time, the very amused look on the 'man's' face. He passed it off.

Astrofel's face became serious. "First, is judgment," he said, waving his hand at the formerly empty dragon seats. Now, nine humanoids occupied chairs in front of them. "The dragon council must decide whether it would be good for either you, or us, for you to stay. As a courtesy to you, they have decided to appear human."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I am so tired of being judged by others! But okay, I can see the reasoning for it."

"None ever escape being judged by others, youngling. Have you not noticed how even you and your mate judge each other all the time?"

Harry and Draco, both, were struck dumb by this observation. They had, indeed, not noticed that fact. "We do, don't we?" Harry said to his bonded. He felt vaguely shamed.

Draco's cheeks had coloured. He nodded, and echoed his mate's feelings.

"No need for shame, younglings; all beings do so at all times," Astrofel said. "Just be sure to judge not too harshly, for you cannot know all about another."

"We could, if we tried, and trusted enough," Harry said, more to his mate than to the dragon.

"With time," Astrofel agreed, obviating Draco's need to respond.

'I want to work on this, my love.' Draco 'said.'

'Then we will,' Harry responded.

"Are you ready for the council?" Astrofel asked.

The pair nodded. Astrofel led them down to the main floor, and then to a spot in front of the nine. Chairs hadn't been provided for them. Looking at each other, they smirked, then Harry sat down, tailor fashion, on the floor, and Draco semi-reclined in Harry's lap, head resting on his husband's abdomen. Astrofel gaped at them. The expressions on the faces of the nine ranged from amusement to outrage.

"What did you expect, Astrofel? If comfort isn't provided for visiting royalty, then we'll make our own," Harry said.

"Quite right, youngling," said an elderly female. "We were remiss." She was one whose expression had been one of amusement. A light glow preceded the appearance of two comfortable-looking padded chairs.

Harry nodded his head in acknowledgement of her and the provisioning of comfortable seating. "Thank you, madam," he said, after they were seated. "You have questions of us?"

"That we do," a gruff voice said.

"May we know to whom we speak?" Draco inquired. "As for ourselves, my husband is Harry D'Lumiere, formerly Harry Potter, and I am Draco D'Lumiere, formerly Draco Malfoy. That is, I hope, the last time those old appellations will be spoken by, or acknowledged, by us."

'And why was it necessary to mention them this time, Draco?'

'If these are mind-readers, would it do any good to hide them? And it's likely they're listening to this conversation, as well.'

'You have a point.'

Astrofel made the introduction of the nine councillors. "From your left to your right, may I introduce Dakreel, Myartole, Akaleen, Markylyy, Kontrine, Tshan, Tyonteel, Irtaan, and Alkiil."

"I hope that we are pleased to make your acquaintance, councillors," Harry said, "but I'm afraid we shan't know that until after this meeting."

"Harry! This is not the time to be rude!" Draco reprimanded.

Prompted by this, Harry again addressed the nine. "My apologies, councillors; I had no intention of being rude, only truthful."

"UNDERSTOOD." The voice was unfamiliar, and had a faint echoing quality to it - as though two or more voices had spoken at the same time.

The elderly female, Akaleen, took charge. "There will be no questioning; we will examine you in other ways. No, Draco, nudity will not be required," she said, answering an unspoken question.

Dakreel did ask one question, though. "Why are you here?"

Harry answered for them both. "That's quite a long story, but the short version is that we lost our ability to do wizarding magic after coming into our genetic inheritances, and were directed by a High Veela by the name of Thraia to travel by foot to their demesne in order to get training for the magic we still had, after our third bonding. I, I believe, was also to get the training due a Veela Royal. We were attacked on the road by Death Eaters, and saved by one of your own, Astrofel, who brought us here."

"That's the short version?" Draco muttered under his breath teasingly.

"Shh..." Harry warned, grinning.

"WE BEGIN."

Harry and Draco braced themselves, but felt nothing. After about a minute, they relaxed; evidently it wasn't going to hurt. Over the next fifteen minutes, an occasional coloured glow would arise around one or both of them, but other than that, nothing happened. If it weren't for the fact that they were not only witnessing, but the subjects of a type of magic they'd never heard of before, they would have been completely bored.

"WE WILL NOW ASCERTAIN YOUR VEELA STATUS. PLEASE REMOVE YOUR UPPER GARMENTS."

"I thought nudity wasn't a requirement?!" Draco protested.

"THIS IS NOT FOR OUR TESTING, BUT FOR YOUR COMFORT. IF THE TEST RESULTS ARE AS WE EXPECT THEM TO BE, RETAINING THOSE GARMENTS WILL GARNER YOU MUCH PAIN."

"What would cause that?!" Harry exclaimed.

"WHAT YOU DO NOT KNOW CANNOT BE A DISAPPOINTMENT TO YOU," came the reply. "PLEASE REMOVE YOUR UPPER GARMENTS."

Slowly, and with trepidation, they did so. A few seconds later, Harry felt a strong tingling start in his body that grew stronger, and then seemed to concentrate in his back. He felt the muscles there moving, growing very warm, and then strange shapes seemed to be taking form; or maybe it was the bones in his back re-forming. None of this helped his peace of mind, of course. Looking at his mate, he saw strange things going on in his lover's back as well, and their link told him of Draco's near-panic. As much as he wished to yell at the wielders of the magic that was causing his mate such distress, he felt unable to move, to speak. Then, without fanfare (or pain, according to their link), a pair of white wings appeared, attached to his mate's back. And then he felt a sudden weight upon his own back. Finally able to move, Harry looked over his shoulder, and saw a huge pair of black-feathered wings.

"YOUR STATUS IS VERIFIED." the multi-voice said.

Harry was furious - not about the wings, but about not being able to protect or comfort his mate. However, now was not the time to confront these - dragon elders. Moving as quickly as he could while trying to balance his newly-grown wings, Harry moved to his life-partner's side. Schooling himself to calmness, he spoke to his mate. "Draco? Are you alright, love? Silly question; we have wings! Beside that, are you alright?"

At the sound of his mate's voice, and the pull from their link, Draco slowly came back from the height of terror he'd been experiencing, finally noticing Harry's presence, and suddenly Harry had an armful of half-panicked blonde male beauty crying on his shoulder, and clinging to his neck. This worried the raven-haired young man immensely. Draco had opened up to his mate a great deal, but not in public, and this kind of emotional display - of fear, even terror - was totally unlike him.

"I'm afraid that this is our fault, but we believe that it is best for your mate's mental health, in the long run," Akaleen said.

Harry turned and yelled before the elderly female could explain "What did you do to him?!"

Patiently, she replied "Your mate was shoving his negative emotions aside and refusing to deal with them; storing them. And a very large store it is, too. This would eventually have led to emotional or mental illness, as well as physical maladies. We removed the wall he had built to store them behind; allowing them to drain, as an infected wound must drain before it can heal. Astrofel will take you to your rooms, where I trust you can aid your mate. I must warn you that he may be unpredictable for the next few days; it depends upon how well you help him deal with this crisis, and help him heal."

Harry wasn't sure how to feel about any of this. He was definitely angry that once again decisions had been made for him, and now his mate, and that now he was expected to deal with the results. On the other hand, what had been done to his mate was done for altruistic purposes, and hopefully would lead to him being happier and healthier - always supposing, of course, that he'd just been told the truth; but he couldn't think of a reason that they would lie to him - to them. These dragons were strong enough, and powerful enough, that they could do whatever they wished with his love and himself, or they could have simply cast them out. So he was going to go on the assumption that the truth had been told. Harry paused, aware that he was starting to babble to himself, and decided to deal with the moment. Other concerns could be dealt with later.

Looking up, Harry was surprised to see that the nine councillors were gone. Astrofel was standing by, though, waiting for them.

"I need to care for my mate. Where?" Harry demanded tersely.

"Follow me."

Harry started to get up, and was pulled off-balance by his wings. "How?! My balance is destroyed, and I'm sure Draco's is no better," he said bitterly.

"Do your best," Astrofel instructed, a bit disappointed by this whining. "Tomorrow, I will see if someone is willing to teach you how to deal with your wings."

Surprisingly, once upright, Harry found that the wings weren't as bad to balance as he'd imagined they'd be. He had to be careful when he bent over to help Draco up, and helping him keep his balance, but they were soon walking down a carved corridor, holding onto each other, helping each other. It was quite a walk, but eventually they were shown in through a door in a door. (The major door was dragon-sized, but a human-sized door was set into it. Although these dragons weren't that large, compared to the dragons the young men had studied at Hogwarts, they were still much larger than humans; smaller adults were still about twice the size of a tall human.)

Someone must have worked quickly in order to prepare these rooms, unless dragons liked to live as humans most of the time; which, while possible, Harry thought unlikely. The human form would make it easier to pursue certain tasks and activities, but why wouldn't they prefer their own forms during their leisure time? But the room was very nice; not opulent, but tasteful and comfortable-looking. Not that Harry noticed right away; he was too busy looking for a comfortable place for he and Draco to rest. He settled on the low-backed divan, and guided Draco to it. His mate was perfectly alright physically, but was still dealing with an outflow of excess emotion.

Once settled, their wings draped over the back of the divan, Harry turned to his next task - getting his lover into a state where he could be talked with, allowing them both to deal with this problem.

As Astrofel was on his way out, he had a couple of last-minute bits of information and advice: "Everything you should need is here, including waste and bathing facilities. If you need food, ask for what you need out loud - that and a request for medical assistance are the only things that will trigger attention to these rooms. Oh, and if you think about it, you're both magical beings; concentrating on your wings appearing or disappearing should do the trick." With that, he was out the door, and gone.

"Prat. He couldn't have said that before?" Harry griped.

An hour later, he and Draco, working together, had managed, through their bond, to find a way for the blonde to put the emotional outflow at enough of a remove to allow him to function, and deal with the emotions with at least some degree of control. He still had to deal with them, but they were no longer overpowering. That dealt with for the moment, Harry told Draco about Astrofel's 'hint' about dealing with their wings.

Before they could experiment with it though, hunger made an appearance. Harry thought of what he wanted, and decided on a large, thick steak; rare - just warmed through; and a large fruit and vegetable salad. Draco wanted a large fruit and vegetable salad as well, but decided he'd rather have fowl; chicken, preferably, but any kind of fowl would do, so long as the flesh was well seasoned and prepared. Within minutes of their spoken request, the meals appeared on the low table in front of the divan. Although it had not been specified, tea was supplied, along with an orange vinaigrette dressing for their salads. As they ate, they had time for more detailed observations than they'd had time for, before.

To begin with, their wings: the feathers' colouring closely matched their hair colouring, and for the same reasons. Harry's wings were a shining midnight black. They were feathered because of the High Veela genetic influence, but black from the High Vampire influence. Draco's were white due to his High Veela genetic influence, but they shimmered and shone with faint rainbow colours - an oddity - due, perhaps, to the magical influences they had been subjected to. Draco pointed out that Harry's feathers had the same faint rainbow effect, but they were less noticeable due to the blackness of his wings. With a little experimentation, they found that they could actually move the wings - they weren't an inanimate feature (when you've never had wings, a lot of things don't occur to you, even when it should be obvious).

And then there was the room itself. Emerald green, ruby red, and gold were the primary colours, although differently textured textiles, mixed with rich wood-grains, gave the impression of more variety. Furniture was sparse, but what there was, was sumptuous. The divan has already been mentioned, but the padding was covered with an emerald-green velvet. The top of the curved back, the runner below the seat, and the carved legs, were of dark mahogany. The low table in front of the divan was oval, with lion-claw feet and curved legs, all in an almost translucent golden oak, both situated in front of a small, ornamental fireplace surrounded by a black marble face and hearth, and topped by a rough-hewn, light oak mantle. There were also a couple of well-carved birds-eye maple chairs with red cushions, one on each side of the fireplace. The two rugs in the area, a small one between the table and divan, and a large one in front of the fireplace, were thick and soft, of a soft, silvery-grey colour, and bordered with green.

A large carved, wooden, Chinese screen in ruby red, black lacquer and gold gave privacy for the large curtained bed to the right of the fireplace. There was no bed canopy, but the curtains took their cue from the colours of the Chinese screen. The thick covers were a deep cream colour with red and black Chinese embroidery upon them. The uprights, legs, headboard and footboard were also richly carved, and of teakwood. A very long and deep wardrobe made of African mahogany, surprisingly plain compared to the rest of the furniture, stood against the wall, and a small night table on each side of the bed. That - was the extent of the furniture. In a room as large as this, with such high ceilings, the place seemed almost empty. But as the boys would learn later, there was a reason for the scarcity of furnishings.

Finishing their meals, they were at a loss about what to do with the dirty dishes. But they didn't wonder long; they had more important matters to attend to. Immersing themselves in their link, they quickly discussed what method they should use to try to make the wings go away. After a brief tug of wills, they decided to go with Harry's simple method of just trying to visualize them away. If that didn't work, Draco had a few other methods in mind. Sinking even more deeply into their bond, they began by visualising themselves as they now looked, with wings. They then imagined that those wings dissolved away, leaving their backs bare of feathery adornment.

'Draco; concentrate. It can't work if you won't believe it will.'

'This is so bloody silly, Harry! "Just think it, and it will happen"? I still think we're going to need to draw a pentagram and invoke an imp to help.'

'And if we somehow managed to do that? How, without magic, would we control it? Now put your doubts aside, and concentrate!'

Draco didn't like his ideas just being dismissed like that. It was true that he'd been brought up to think of magic and its means of use in just certain ways, but just because circumstances had changed, didn't mean that those methods were no longer valid, did they? He felt a pout coming on, and went with it. He refused to cooperate.

Feeling this, Harry sighed, and let himself float up from their deep merge. "I'm too tired to fight with you, Draco. I'm going to bed. Coming with?" Harry didn't know where this childish Draco had come from, although he had a suspicion it was due to the emotional "wall" the dragon elders had knocked down being gone. Just how long had his 'dragon' been forced to hide his emotions? It didn't bear thinking about. He rather enjoyed certain aspects of this Draco, but others were just plain wearing.

Draco was still pouting, but he got up, swaying a bit as he found his balance, took Harry's hand, and let himself be led to bed.

After disrobing, there was still the problem of finding a comfortable position that accommodated their wings. They finally settled on facing each other on their sides, Draco's head resting on Harry's arm. In that position, they fell asleep.

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An earth-shattering roar woke them the next morning. When Harry and Draco gathered themselves enough to find out what had caused such a gods-awful noise, they found that they were looking down at the room from near the ceiling.

"AND THAT, MY DEAR YOUNGLINGS, IS WHAT WINGS ARE GOOD FOR," Astrofel, in his dragon form said, humour evident in his 'voice.'

Now that he was aware of what they were doing, Harry started having trouble with his wings; trying desperately to control them. Draco's somewhat panicked feelings coming over their link as he, too, found himself in difficulty, didn't help, either. His instincts were screaming at him to both save his mate, and save himself, but the practical situation was, they were both on their own; a fact that had Harry in a right state from the start.

"DON'T THINK ABOUT YOUR WINGS, JUST ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT TO BE DOING; THE REST IS AUTOMATIC," the dragon advised.

Harry tried to relax, and just concentrate on staying aloft. To his surprise, it worked; his balance improved, and he had less of a sense of slipping out of the air. "Draco, do as he says; it works!" he said.

Looking at his mate with deep distrust in his eyes, the blonde tried to do as his mate suggested, but it took a great effort of will to do so; he wasn't as trusting as Harry. Still, he finally managed it, just as the muscles in his chest and back started complaining. "How do we get down; I'm getting tired," he asked, somewhat desperately.

"CONCENTRATE ON LANDING. AS I TOLD YOU BEFORE, YOU ONLY NEED TO CONCENTRATE ON WHAT YOU WANT TO DO; YOUR BODY WILL DO THE REST," Astrofel replied patiently.

Slowly, cautiously, Harry and Draco descended on their way to their first aerial landing. Draco did just fine, but Harry stumbled a bit and was steadied by his husband. "Bloody hell," Harry muttered to himself. Then, turning to Astrofel, he let his pent-up anxiety go. "And just what in the nine hells was all that about, coming in here roaring like a wounded... Well, I don't know what, but it was bloody awful!"

"HOW LONG DO YOU THINK IT WOULD HAVE TAKEN FOR YOU TO TRUST YOUR WINGS ENOUGH TO FLY IF YOU WERE JUST GIVEN INSTRUCTION? THIS WAY WAS MUCH FASTER," the dragon explained.

"You no good, slimy, sneaky, manipulative..." Draco's usually vast vocabulary failed him; he couldn't think of anything vile enough. Of course, Harry was rather hearing Ron finish that sentence with "Slytherin" - not that he'd ever say so.

In a blink, Astrofel-the-man stood before them. "You object to learning?" he asked.

Heading his hot-headed lover off, Harry replied "We object to your methods." He was angry and frustrated as well, but he had more experience with having to be diplomatic. Draco could appear to be icy-calm when he wished, but that only covered up his scheming for revenge, and right now he would have been attempting to have Astrofel stuffed and mounted, had he still had his wizard powers.

Astrofel shrugged. "You learned in five minutes what could have taken several days."

"I think we'd like for you to leave, for now," Harry said. "We need to eat and bathe. Perhaps later we can look upon this - lesson - more objectively." Harry was trembling in his anger, and his attempts to control it; to be civil. He had reason to not allow his anger sway; they needed what could be offered here, from training to housing, and protection.

Astrofel shrugged again, then did his instant-change act back to his natural dragon form, opened the larger door, and made his exit.

"That - was the last thing you needed," Harry said to his husband while still staring at the closed door. Then, visibly collecting himself, Harry turned and strode to his mate, taking him into his arms. He wasn't the least bit surprised to find him trembling in the aftermath of fear and anger. "The stupid git. He obviously doesn't have a brain cell one in that over-sized head of his." He reconsidered. "Well, maybe one, since he needs something to help him walk and talk and fly." His effort at humour was rewarded, as Draco gave a weak smile. Encouraged, he made a suggestion that, perhaps, wasn't of the wisest: "Tell you what, love; you just write down all of these little annoyances, and when we have the training to do so, we'll prank him but good! Okay?" That earned him a full Draco smirk, and a grateful kiss.

That crisis averted, they took care of their morning showers and toilette, which was complicated by their wings, but which was completed in only a little more time than would usually be the case. Afterward they had breakfast, which they decided would consist of pancakes with berry syrup, bacon, fruit salad, and coffee. Harry asked for cream and sugar for his coffee - Draco liked it black. Having eaten, they were in a much better mood, and after discussing it, decided that maybe Astrofel could keep his hide after all. They asked the air to send Astrofel back.

By way of an oblique apology, Harry explained that neither of them were what could be called 'morning people.' Draco explained, to Harry's edification as well, that many people woke up 'cranky' or 'grumpy' in the mornings due to the fact that they woke up with low blood sugar; meaning they had to eat before they could really be bothered to be nice to anyone. Astrofel took it in stride, and promised that no other 'lessons' would take place until after they'd broken their fast - until later in their training, at least, when it might become politic to do so. The air cleared, Harry asked the dragon what was on the agenda for the day.

"A bit after noon, I'll be bringing in Alandal, who has agreed to give you further training with your wings, including how to make them appear and disappear at will, manoeuvring, in flight, etc. Later, after you've learned how to tap and use your magic, you'll be taught more on that subject, including protection and strengthening magics, and emergency medical treatment." At the look on the couple's faces, he explained. "While quite strong, wings can also be injured fairly easily."

"Is there any way we can get training in other uses for our power?" Harry asked tentatively.

"If you wish. We can also provide both physical and magical combat training; both armed and unarmed, if you so desire."

Harry and Draco's eyes were both alight with pleasure. "That's superb!" Harry replied. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but may I ask why you're doing all this for us?"

Astrofel looked at them a moment, then replied. "There are many reasons, including political, but the main reasons are the elven declaration at your wedding bonding, and the results of the tests the Elders ran on you yesterday." Harry and Draco both asked, then demanded further explanation, but Astrofel adamantly remained silent, refusing to divulge any further information.

"Dumbledore, our old headmaster, used to treat us this way as well, you know. He kept information to himself, doling out only dribs and drabs to keep people thinking they knew what was going on, and used that to manipulate us into doing his will. If this is what your people also are doing, then rest assured that we will refuse to be manipulated or used." Harry said, heatedly.

"I assure you that all will be revealed in time, and that any benefit that comes to us will only be as a peripheral benefit from what comes to you and yours." Astrofel replied. "And now, if you are through impugning our honour, I will be back later, with Alandal." With that, he walked out.

Harry stood there, slack-mouthed, until Draco reached over and lifted his chin back up. "He's right, you know," Harry said, quietly. "We - I have insulted him and his people several times, today. It's a wonder we've not been sent packing. I'm going to have to apologize. I hate eating crow."

Draco chuckled. "Be thankful that it was you sticking your foot in it, love. If it had been me, I would probably have had us being roasted by now."

Harry gave a low laugh, and kissed his understanding mate. "You're too good for me. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course!"

Harry chucked his lover gently upside the head, and then kissed him again before he could retaliate.

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Chapter Sixteen

After dinner, Astrofel again made an appearance, this time with a chestnut-haired young woman in tow. "Alandal, may I present Harry and Draco D'Lumiere?" Turning to the couple just mentioned, he continued the introduction. "Harry, Draco, I would like to introduce you to Alandal, who will attempt to teach you how to handle your wings."

"'Attempt?' I guess we deserved that," Harry said, wincing. "I do owe you and your people an apology; both for the things I've said, and those I've thought. I'm afraid I've become very suspicious and cynical. Neither you, nor anyone else has given us reason... Well, your council of elders could have been more forthcoming, but other than that, none have given us reason to doubt or mistrust you."

"I will present your apologies to those in need of them. As for me, I will accept them - conditionally. That being, that you try to find out the facts before again questioning our honour."

"That's more than fair. Thank you." Harry replied. 'Draco?' he prompted.

"Considering that you had cause to challenge, you are more than magnanimous." Draco said, making his input.

"Draco! Don't go giving them ideas!" Harry exclaimed, miming fear. This clowning, though rather lame, broke the tension, and they all laughed.

"It's nice to meet you, Monsieur's D'Lumiere." The young woman's voice was sweet and mellifluous. "Are you related?"

"Only by marriage," Draco drawled.

Harry looked at her, puzzled. "You don't know? Draco and I are thrice-bonded, and twice married; once by human convention, and once by elfish convention."

Alandal blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I'm head-blind and hadn't heard."

Harry looked to Astrofel, embarrassed that he'd embarrassed this personable-seeming woman. "Head-blind?"

"She cannot hear or speak in the dragon fashion. Telepathically, she is both deaf and dumb," Astrofel said gently, putting an arm around her shoulders. "She stays in human form most of the time so she can communicate, but she is very knowledgeable and a good teacher."

"It seems this is my day for making apologies, Alandal. I'm sorry for bringing up such a sensitive subject to you," Harry said. Although Draco looked cool and collected, Harry could feel his mate's discomfort, both from his part in embarrassing Alandal, and an internal struggle between his childhood training, and his desire to also apologise. His training won out, and although the discomfort was still present, he remained silent.

Harry broke the uncomfortable silence that was threatening to develop. Addressing Alandal, he said "So you're going to teach us how to be able to make these things," jerking his thumb over his shoulder at his wings, "manifest and un-manifest at will? Brilliant! When can we start?"

Giving Harry a grateful glance for changing the subject, Alandal replied "Before we do that, I think we should teach you how to use them to better effect, don't you? If you have other forms that are winged, the lessons would be useful there, as well."

"Excuse me? What other forms?" Draco inquired.

"Well, I don't know that you have any, but if you are triple-bonded, you must have enormous potential, and having other forms would be a definite possibility." Looking at Astrofel, she asked "Wouldn't it?"

"The Council seems to think so, but there's a lot to teach and learn before we get to that point," he replied.

"So your council thinks we have the potential to have other forms. What else does your council think?" Harry's voice was calm and even, but it wasn't the calm of peace; it was the calm before the storm, and his eyes had started to glow - red.

Draco moved behind his angry mate, nestling in-between the onyx wings, and put his arms around his love's waist before laying his head on his husband's shoulder. Then, and only then, did he attempt to reach through his lover's anger. 'Harry... Please calm down. Your eyes are glowing red again.'

The colour of Harry's eyes dimmed to a bright gold as his husband's anxiety reached him. "I'm sorry," he said to the dragons, "it seems I've also developed a bit of a temper. Still, I do not appreciate secrets. Perhaps you will understand why, when I tell you that I believe that people close to me have died because I was not informed of all of the facts surrounding various situations I was sent into, or otherwise got involved in." Harry had, during this discourse, clasped his mate's arms, drawing him closer to himself. Now he turned his head and placed a quick kiss on the blonde head on his shoulder, eyes becoming ever closer to their natural emerald green, going a molten gold momentarily as he said "I'd hate to think what I might be capable of, should something happen to harm Draco because we didn't know all we should."

"Threats..." Astrofel began angrily.

"Threats?" Harry interrupted. "I've made mistakes with you and your people, but I wouldn't go so far as to threaten. I was more or less talking to myself; a statement of fact. I am afraid of what I might be capable of, should I lose control."

"Then it is my turn to apologise," Astrofel said, with a quick, jerky, half-bow.

"Too much talk; too many apologies," Harry said briskly, moving out of his lover's arms, and walking a few steps away before facing the small group. "Can we get on with our lessons?"

Draco winked at his husband, causing Harry to grin at him in return.

For the next several hours, they were kept very busy, learning exercises to do both with and without their wings, defensive and evasive/elusive flying, caring for their wings, and more. Finally, they learned how to make their wings appear and disappear as wanted or needed, and practiced that about an hour. They missed tea-time, or dragon-kind didn't observe it, and only stopped at supper time. Both young men were exhausted, both physically and mentally as they banished their wings for the night. But as they fell into a hug when the halt had been called, a very light glow developed around them, then faded.

The dragons, in their human forms, observed this in astonishment, noting that, after the glow had faded, the shoulders and chests of both young men seemed broader, the muscles more defined. They had expected this sort of physical development to take place, but only after months of practice and work. They were dumbfounded. That it had happened - how it had happened... They looked at each other, then at the Veela couple. They said their good-nights, promising to come back the next morning, and departed to report this latest development to the council.

"Damn it! Dobby!" Harry yelled, knowing the elf was nowhere near. But he was tired and frustrated, and missed Dobby's helpful ways.

"Eep!"

Spinning around to find where the noise had come from, Harry was amazed, as was Draco, to find Dobby standing in the room.

"Dobby! I was just thinking about you! I thought you had been sent home, though. Why are you here?" Harry asked.

Dobby was trembling, eyes wide open as he stared at the winged forms of his master and his master's mate. Quickly prostrating himself, Dobby replied "Dobby not know how Dobby gets here, Master Harry, sir."

Draco laid a hand on Harry's arm. "Harry? You yelled for him just before he showed up. Could you have...?"

"I... I don't know," Harry replied hesitantly. But, reminded of why he had yelled for Dobby in the first place, he put the mystery of the elf's appearance aside for the moment. "Dobby, are you still willing to work for me? I know you don't have to, and if you'd rather not, I'll see what can be done to get you back home again."

Dobby looked up from his position on the floor, awe evident on his face. "Dobby be happy to serve Master Harry, sir." Dobby said.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Harry said "Oh, good." It was only then that he noticed that Dobby wasn't wearing his usual odd assortment of socks and cast-offs, but a rather nice tunic. The base colour was red, but a muggle would have said the garment was a multi-colour silk tie-dye, except the patterns and secondary colours shifted with every movement. He noted with some amusement that Draco was eyeing the tunic with a fair amount of envy.

"Something like that would be very comfortable to wear with our wings, wouldn't it, Draco?" Harry said, indicating Dobby's tunic. He felt his mate's impulse to deny his interest in the fabric, embellished suitably with insults and denigrating remarks, but was quite proud when the blonde suppressed that urge, and merely nodded.

Feeling the pride his mate was feeling for him, Draco looked at Harry in surprise, and then coloured up when realised the source of that pride. "Don't make a big deal out of it, Harry," he said. "I might be a prat, but I hope I'm not irredeemable or incapable of learning."

"Even if you were," Harry murmured while he briefly nuzzled his mate's ear, "you'd be my irredeemable prat."

Draco had mixed feelings about that statement, but decided to let it slide - well, almost. "I'm hungry," he said, pouting.

"Then why don't you request our meals for us, baby? I want to talk to Dobby."

"Baby?" Draco queried.

"Well, you're pouting like one..." Harry answered; then, laughing, quickly dodged the kick aimed at his ankle.

"Not funny, Harry!" Draco fumed. "You can just sleep on the divan, tonight!"

Grinning, Harry placed a quick kiss on his mate's pouting lips, and sent several x-rated scenarios starring themselves over their link to him. Draco shuddered, melting into Harry's arms, head dropping onto his mate's broad chest. "You don't fight fair, Harry," he whispered.

"Do I still have to sleep on the Divan?" Harry asked teasingly.

Draco looked into his husband's eyes. "Not if you can follow through with all of that," he replied, almost desperately.

"What? All in one night? I wonder if that divan has any lumps."

"Don't you dare, Harry! I don't care if I do walk bow-legged tomorrow, you're going to make good on that!"

Harry made a face as though he were being terribly put-upon, and sighed. "Well, if I must, I must." Then he winked at his lover, and bent in for a long, steamy kiss. "Think that'll hold you until tonight?"

Draco made a 'guhhh' sound as he let out his breath. Then, very calmly, he said "I'm going to kill you. Just so you know. And yes, it's entirely personal - you're a bloody tease."

Chuckling, Harry took hold of his mate's head, planted a firm kiss on his forehead, said "I love you" just as firmly, then turned back to the temporarily forgotten Dobby, while putting an arm around Draco's waist and drawing him close.

Dobby's face showed acute embarrassment, as Harry said "I'm sorry, Dobby. And how is your mate doing?."

"Twinkie doing good..." Dobby admitted shyly.

"Would you like to have her here with you, or would you prefer to go home every night?" Harry asked.

Dobby's eyes widened. "You let Dobby go home at night?"

Harry frowned slightly. "Yes, of course. Why shouldn't I?"

"Master Harry too good to Dobby!" the elf exclaimed, tears falling down his narrow face.

"Excuse me," Draco murmured, and departed for the loo.

"Nonsense. I couldn't deprive you of being with Twinkie; I'd hate it if someone kept Draco and me apart. But I do need to ask a favour of you," Harry remarked, changing the subject. "The tub in there is a bit small. Is there any way you can enlarge it?"

"Is that why you called him here?" Draco asked, as he rejoined them.

"That was fast."

"I just needed a tissue. But don't change the subject; is that why you magicked Dobby here?"

Harry frowned. "Firstly, I'm not sure I did magic him here. Secondly, no; that wasn't why I wanted him here - it only occurred to me when you headed there, that I really wanted a long, hot, soak with you. No, what I..." Suddenly, he was talking to Draco's back, which quickly disappeared behind the privacy screen which hid their bed.

"That's the last straw! If you're not over here in thirty seconds, I'm starting without you!" Draco threatened.

Harry was torn between hospitality to Dobby, whom he may have inadvertently kidnapped from wherever he'd been, and his mate's threat/promise. Actually, it was no contest; the problem was in finding a graceful way to leave his 'guest.'

"Um, Dobby? Do you think you could find something to do to keep yourself occupied for the next hour or two? In fact, why don't you go ahead and go home for tonight, and we'll see you tomorrow?" He turned to follow after his mate, but then turned back. Whispering, he said "And if you could find a couple of suitable tunics for us, something like yours but in our size, I would very much appreciate it. It's to be a surprise for Draco. Just let me know how to pay for them, alright? And thank you!" That last was said over his shoulder as he rapidly strode towards the 'bedroom.'

"Dobby see the Master tomorrow, then, sir. Thank you, sir. Dobby happy to serve Master Harry, sir," the elf said, grinning. A moment later, he *popped* out.

As Harry came around the Chinese screens, he saw his husband just finishing the removal of his trousers. With their wings, they still hadn't been able to cover up their top halves - another reason why those tunics from Dobby would be important for future training sessions, or flying outside when they got good enough. Besides, those tunics could be worn with or without their wings. Modesty had become less important, but it was still too bloody chilly to go around half nude, especially if they were to leave these relatively warm rooms for the public areas. But there were more important things to think about right now - like ravishing his husband.

They found time to eat and bathe between bouts, but Draco did indeed make his husband fulfil every fantasy sexual situation Harry had 'fought' him with earlier; standing, kneeling, sitting, supine, forward and backward, limbs bent this way and that to make a position possible... They even tried it while flying, but found that it just wasn't possible to keep their wings moving enough to keep them aloft, keep position, and mate at the same time; one of their few disappointments.

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"Hello, Dobby," Harry said the next morning, "why are you back in those rags?"

Dobby looked puzzled. "Dobby a servant. Dobby wear servant clothes," the elf stated simply.

Harry frowned. "No. Dobby, you will not wear rags around me. It is demeaning to you, and insulting to me. It looks as though I cannot afford to pay you enough to keep you in good clothing. Wearing durable clothing that can take wear and tear is reasonable, but not rags. Do you understand?"

"Dobby understands," the elf replied, downcast that he had displeased the royal.

Harry continued, his voice more gentle, now. "Dobby, if being a servant is so demeaning that you can find no honour, no pride in it, then, my friend, I send you on your way, and hope we can visit on occasion."

Dobby's eyes brimmed up with tears; Master Harry still considered him a friend! "To serve a Royal is prideful, Master Harry. Dobby will make the Master proud!"

Harry grinned. "Good!" he said, patting the elf on the shoulder. He had long given up trying to get the elf to stop calling him "master" as a bad job. Then, in a very low voice, he asked "Now, what were you able to find out about those tunics for me?"

It wasn't but a few minutes later that Draco came around the privacy screen, still wiping sleep from his eyes. "Harry?"

"Yes, love?"

"Oh, there you are." Spotting Dobby, Draco got a small frown on his face. "What happened to your tunic, elf?"

Harry replied before Dobby could. "We've already talked about proper working attire, love. Probably not tunics, but there will be no more rags." Turning to the elf, he said "Right, Dobby?"

Dobby grinned, gave what was probably, to him, a sly wink. A blind man in the Ukraine could have seen it. "Very right, Master Harry, sir."

"What's going on, Harry?" the blonde asked suspiciously.

Harry got up from where he'd been sitting, and walked over to his lover. "Nothing, sweetheart. Just a surprise for you."

Draco gave his husband a rather jaundiced look. "'Sweetheart?' I'm not going to cure you of being sappy, am I? What's my surprise?"

"Nope! I'm just a hopeless romantic, and you're stuck with me!" Harry said, grinning unrepentantly, and ignoring his mate's second question.

"What's my surprise, Harry...?" Draco persisted, playing at being threatening.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it? You'll get it soon - tonight or tomorrow, depending," Harry teased.

That brought the blonde up short. "Depending on what?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Depending on how good you are. If you keep pestering, it'll be tomorrow - or later. " Harry leaned in close as he said that, 'til his nose was no more than an inch from his mate's.

Cross-eyed with the effort to keep his husband in focus, Draco replied. "You know this means war, don't you?" he asked, quietly.

"Bring it on, love." Harry darted in and placed a quick peck on his mate's nose.

"Damn it, Harry!" Draco attacked, all ten fingers digging mercilessly into his mate's ribs.

Harry writhed, laughing, falling helplessly to the floor as his mate pursued.

"Do you give?" the blonde growled.

"I give! I give!" Harry declared, but as Draco let up, satisfied with his win and expecting information to be forthcoming, Harry added "But I don't tell!" Laughing, he caught his lovers wrists as Draco seemed intent on renewing his assault on Harry's ribs. "Behave yourself, love, or I'll give it to someone else!"

Draco stared at his raven-haired lover, aghast. "You wouldn't!"

Drawing a slightly reluctant Draco down into his embrace, Harry affirmed that opinion. "You're right. I wouldn't." Draco relaxed, and melted into the embrace.

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"I've been meaning to ask, Astrofel: since the fireplace seems to be only for show, how is a place this large kept warm, and have such a supply of hot water? I'm somewhat ashamed to say that Draco and I have been rather careless in our use of that."

Their lessons that day were mostly a rehash of the information and practices taught the day before, to make sure that those lessons had sunk in. They had. Although seemingly less tiring, the exercises and practices were no less strenuous than they had been yesterday. Now they had stopped for dinner, and upon receiving the invitation, Astrofel and Andaral stayed to dine with them. Harry had given Dobby careful instructions, and the elf had risen to the occasion, producing four sandwiches that Harry called 'foot-long hoagies.' Some classic meats weren't readily available, such as bologna or soft salami, but there were plenty of tasty substitutes. Draco and the dragons had been, if not totally impressed, quite intrigued, and declared the sandwich 'tasty.' Now, after dining, they were relaxing and digesting, giving Harry time to ponder some questions he'd pushed aside before.

"Volcanic activity." the 'man' said. Seeing the alarmed expressions on their faces, Astrofel hastened to reassure the couple. "Not active or dangerous, I assure you! We've lived in this demesne for a couple of thousand years. While there are earthquakes from time to time, these caverns and rooms are magically reinforced for stability, and we haven't had a cave-in or a rock-slide for almost eighteen hundred years - and no volcanic activity otherwise - at least, not in this area. There are mud volcanoes elsewhere. We have tapped hot underwater rivers and springs, redirecting their courses here to heat our living quarters and provide bathing pools, among other uses. So you see, hot water is truly a free resource here, and you have no need of embarrassment for its use." Seeing them relax, accepting his explanation and reassurance, he asked "May I ask a question of my own?" Not waiting for a reply, he continued. "How did you contact the elf and get him in here?"

Harry squirmed, embarrassed. Draco just grinned at his husband, enjoying his discomfiture. "Um... I was so tired and frustrated last night, that I yelled for him, and he just showed up," Harry explained.

Astrofel looked at him dubiously. "You just - yelled - for him?"

"That's about it, yes."

"Very odd. I'll have to talk to the elders about this. They're not supposed to be able to get in here without being approved." Then he did something he'd not done before; he requested permission for something. "Harry, may I speak to the elf? Ask some questions?"

Harry acquiesced. "If it's alright with him, it's alright with me." Turning, he softly called out "Dobby? Could you join us for a few minutes, please?" Once the former house elf had done so, Harry said "Dobby, Astrofel would like to ask you some questions about last night." Dobby blushed furiously. "NO! Not about that, Dobby - about how you got here, I think," Harry said, also blushing.

Draco was almost rolling with laughter as Harry's blush deepened even further, realizing the possible implications of those words, and their guests looking askance at them and the elf. Half-grinning at the ridiculousness of the situation himself, Harry explained "Dobby witnessed Draco and I..." his embarrassment overcame him, although they hadn't been doing anything that intimate at that moment, and he couldn't go on, but an expression of understanding and - relief? - came over the faces of both Astrofel and Alandal.

"Dracoooo...." Harry complained, as his mate continue to howl his mirth. "Stop it, you prat!" Harry said, grinning. "It's not that funny..."

Slowly, Draco pulled himself under control. "I'm... I'm sorry, love," he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, "but it is, really. The expression on your face - on their faces..." He started chuckling again.

Dryly, Harry said "You do realise they thought we had sexual relations with Dobby last night?" The dragons' faces wore only an expression of amusement as Draco abruptly stopped laughing and started sputtering. "Thought so," Harry said smugly.

Taking on an air of nonchalance, Harry turned to his erstwhile mentors. "So!" he said cheerily, "What's next!" He wasn't entirely unsurprised when they burst into laughter, but decided to camp it up. "Hmph! Some people!" Then he burst out laughing himself.

"It's good to see that you haven't lost your sense of humour," Andaral finally said.

"Thank you," Harry replied, "but the question was a serious one, as well as meant to provide humour. What is next on our agenda?"

"How about mingling? Getting more familiar with us and where we live?" Astrofel suggested.

Harry looked at his mate, and both saw and felt his willingness to go along with this plan. "Sounds good, but could you give us about an hour to bathe and make ourselves presentable? We obviously can't go out half-naked."

Since they'd been working with their wings, and their tunics, which Draco still didn't know about, hadn't arrived yet, they were nude from the waist up.

Amusement plain in her voice, Alandal said "I doubt any would mind - we only take on human form, you know - but yes, we'll be back later."

Annoyed again, and frowning slightly, Harry asked, his tone of voice less than civil, "If the convention of being fully dressed is unimportant to you in your human forms, why didn't I see any state of undress in anyone over the age of five when we arrived?"

"Practice, Mr. D'Lumiere," she replied frostily, and walked out.

"Shite. When will I learn to control my temper?!" Harry mourned. "'I'm sorry' is going to lose all meaning at this rate, no matter how much I might mean it." Draco cuddled up to his mate, trying to comfort him. Turning to face Astrofel, who was still standing there regarding the dark-haired young man, Harry said "Please, Astrofel, I don't know what's..."

"I know why, Harry; and it's something you're going to have to watch carefully," the dragon replied in an overly-calm voice that spoke of effort to control his own temper. "You are an untrained Veela Royal. If you had been trained since birth, you would know what to expect, and how to handle it, although few I've ever known bothered to try. That you do try to be pleasant, and regret it when you're not, is the only reason you are still here"

Draco was looking more overset by the second, worry and anger warring in his eyes. Sensing that the situation might be a very delicate one at the moment, Harry asked "If there was training I was supposed to get, but didn't, who can help me get it now?"

Draco growled, and Harry put his arms around his mate, trying to calm him. Through their link, he could tell that the blonde felt as though they, and Harry in particular, were threatened, and was going into defence mode. "It'll be okay, love. We're just in the same situation we were in as toddlers; we're having to learn proper behaviour and etiquette all over again, but with a whole new set of rules, among a species we have little in common with, despite current appearances."

Eyebrows raised, Astrofel commented, "Very good, Mr. D'Lumiere - very succinct. And it wouldn't hurt us to remember that, either. However, I do have one more bit of information that may help." Turning his gaze upon Draco, he said "You, Mr. Draco D'Lumiere, do not seem to have realized that you have some responsibility in this, as well. No need to snarl, Draco. It is not to your behaviour towards us that I refer, but your responsibility towards your mate. He has the lion's share of the power in your relationship, but that power creates an irritation of his nerves and power channels. You may not know consciously know yet how to soothe them, but you do have the ability to both calm Harry, and to boost his power when it is needed. I suggest you play a more active part in that rôle." Having said that, he also departed. Draco stared after him, gob-smacked.

Harry sighed. "We're on the bottom of the totem pole, love; an unenviable position, and one I know you aren't used to, but almost everyone else starts there and has to work their way up. We won't be on the bottom for long," he swore.

Draco jerked his attention back to his bond-mate. "Who says we're on the bottom now, Harry? I'd say we're probably more off to the side a bit. We don't fit in, and we're not going to. We're unique, according to everyone who's had anything to say about it, right? We'll learn from those who will teach us, and the rest can go bugger themselves!" Draco said fiercely.

Harry smiled. "That's why I love you; you always know what to say to cheer me up."

Draco pouted. "Is that the only reason?"

"Only one among hundreds, belovéd, only one among hundreds. And now, I think we'd best get the sweat washed off, don't you? We've got things to see, people to do."

"Oh, Harry," Draco groaned, "I can't believe you trotted out that old chestnut!"

"Horses? Where?" Harry ducked just in time. "Race you?" he asked.

"No, Harry," Draco dead-panned, "no horse races." He got to the bathing room first, but couldn't quite get the door slammed shut in time. Harry forced it open, and got his revenge for Draco's earlier tickle attack on him.

When he finally relented, he stared raptly into his lover's silver eyes as they both caught their breath, and then leaned down and gently kissed his husband, the kiss becoming firmer, more possessive, from both of them. Harry broke off for a moment to get the water running, then they stripped, stepped under the hot stream, and resumed where they'd left off, using the unnecessary excuse of washing each other to run their hands over every inch of every part of each other's bodies, and then brought each other off. With a final rinse, they stepped out, then gently dried each other. Reluctantly, they got dressed, putting on clean clothing, each disappointed as their lover's body was covered, their link making those emotions and attitudes quite poignant as they shared with each other.

Their timing was superb, for just as they finished brushing their hair, Astrofel showed up, a still somewhat-disgruntled Andaral in tow. "Ah, I see we got here in good time! Ready to meet the population?"

In a much better mood than before, a fact which did not go unnoticed by either transformed dragon, Harry said "Lead on!" and said so, grinning. "Dobby, you may leave whenever you wish. Thank you for helping!" he said, as he exited the room. If Dobby answered, he didn't hear it.

The tour through the public areas of the demesne was a public relations success, although Harry wasn't thinking in those terms. Still, he exchanged a few words with those who felt an inclination to meet with them, and even played a bit with the young ones, with a witty line or a quick tickle. When they reached their own rooms once again, Draco thought that Harry had done well, and may have laid a foundation for future allies, should the need ever arise, and said so when they were alone. Harry wasn't hypocrite enough to deny he liked the idea of making allies, but wasn't too fond of the idea that he may have to one day use this intelligent, sophisticated species through that alliance.

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Chapter Seventeen

When Harry woke up the next morning, he gazed down at his lover's head, which was resting low on his shoulder; the thick, but almost colourless locks spreading out in every direction, some even over Draco's own face. Harry oh-so-gently petted the pale hair, putting a little order into the wild disarray. Draco stirred, but didn't awaken.

His full bladder called to him; the reason he woke in the first place. Harry tried to gently slide out from under his love's head without waking him, but he wasn't entirely successful.

"Harry?" came the sleepy voice.

"Hush, love. I'm just going to the toilet; I'll be right back, okay? Go back to sleep." He slipped on yesterday's robes against the chill. It was all he was wearing.

As he came around the Chinese privacy screen, Harry caught sight of Dobby sitting in a chair that was over three times too large for him, his arms full of shimmering material. Before Dobby could say a word, Harry put his finger to his lips, signaling for silence, then quietly explained "Draco's asleep. Are those the tunics?"

Dobby, with over-exaggerated care, quietly replied "Yes, sir, Master Harry, sir."

Harry's bladder would brook no delay. "I'll be right back," he said, then hurried on to take care his problem. Upon his return, he said "Thank you, Dobby. What is the cost for them?"

"No cost, Master Harry, sir. They are the Master's by right!" Dobby said, with firm conviction. "Here, let Dobby show Master Harry!" he continued excitedly. He stood up on the chair, letting one tunic lay on the seat beside him, and held the other up for Harry to view. It was a shimmering midnight black, with deep reds, blues, and greens as sub-colours shimmering across it like the Northern Lights. The back was slit in two places on the back, from shoulder to hem, but done so cleverly that the slits, with the aid of the magic woven into them, would seem but seams if not in use as access for their wings. Upon Harry's enthusiastic approval, Dobby carefully handed the tunic to him, bent down, then held out the other for inspection. This one was of the same cut, but of a brightly shimmering silver, with light, even faint, sub-colours in violets, reds, and blues shimmering through. Neither had a pattern on it, except for those made by the sub-colours as they shifted. Both tunics were accompanied by a long sash of the same colours and material. Harry was certain the colours had been carefully chosen to complement his and his mate's colouring.

Grinning, Harry said "Dobby, they couldn't be any more perfect." Privately, he was determined that if Dobby wouldn't take payment for the tunics, he would find an extra-large bonus in his pay. Tunics like these couldn't be cheap.

"Harry? Who are you talking to?" came Draco's sleepy voice. Evidently, Draco could hear the voices, but not what was being said.

"Just Dobby, love," Harry replied, raising his voice to carry.

"Come back to bed," Draco whined.

"I think you may want to get up, love; I have a present for you!" Harry said, grinning, and giving Dobby a wink.

The elf's chest was puffed up with pride, and his head looked like it might split in two, his grin was so big.

"A present?"

"A present."

"Oh, all right." Draco was trying to sound blasè about it, but his eagerness shone through. In only seconds, he came around the screens, a sheet wrapped around him, toga-style. "So what is it?" All pretense was gone, now.

Harry was working hard not to laugh out loud at the thought of 'perfectly groomed' Draco only wrapping himself in sheet - too excited or eager to delay long enough to dress, all in expectation of a present. But then his heart melted as the corollary hit him; a present from him. It made him want to unwrap... He chuckled. Draco was his present - every day.

Draco spotted the tunics. "Oh, they're beautiful!" he exclaimed.

"Silver for you, black for me," Harry said. "Do you really like them?"

"Of course! Well, I won't really know for sure until we try them on, but..."

"Dobby has more!" the elf exclaimed, and turned to pull a bag from behind the chair. Opening it, he pulled two pair of Japanese-style trousers from it, in the same material as the robes; but handed the opposite colour to each young man.

"I don't know who your style consultant was, Dobby, but they are to be congratulated!" Draco said, beaming.

Turning to his husband, Draco threw his arms around his neck. "Harry? You are just - the best! Thank you," he said, planting a big kiss on Harry's lips.

"Mmm... Keep that up, sweetheart, and it's going to be a while before you can try those on!" Harry said, placing his head so they were cheek to cheek. Without looking, he addressed the elf. "Dobby, you have outdone yourself."

"Twinkie choose the colours, Master Harry, and think of the trousers," Dobby said, disclaiming responsibility.

"Well, tell your mate that she has exquisite taste," Harry replied. "Is she well employed? If not, she is welcome to join you."

"Dobby thanks the Master, but Twinkie very happy making home nesting," the elf announced.

Both young men turned their heads to him. "You're going to have a young one? Congratulations!" Harry said.

Dobby blushed, but didn't say anything. Harry got the hint, and dropped the subject.

"Thank you, Dobby," he said again. "Draco, love; we need to bathe so we can put on this wonderful clothing. Or maybe we should wait for that until after we eat breakfast?"

"Harry, I love you dearly, but if you make me wait any longer than absolutely necessary, I'm going to kill you - slowly." Draco theatened, yet his voice was as sweet as honey.

Harry laughed. "Right! A shower, then. What would you like for breakfast?"

"Hm... A fry?"

"Hungry today, are you? Dobby, can you do that for us?"

Dobby looked uncomfortable. "No, Master Harry. Dobby doesn't have the food."

Harry felt ridiculous. "No, of course you don't, Dobby. I'm sorry. Well, then, could you request it for us to be ready when we get out of the shower?"

Dobby looked miserable as he said "Yes, Master Harry."

"It's not your fault, Dobby. I just forgot that you don't have the supplies or facilities here that you did at Hogwarts, and you and Twinkie are such good cooks that I was looking forward to a meal prepared by you."

Dobby was looking even worse, that he couldn't fulfil his Royal's wishes.

"I think I'm just making it worse, Draco. What do I do?" Harry asked worriedly.

Draco shrugged. "Add on a kitchen?" he suggested.

"Draco! He just brought us those tunics!"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but he's feeling guilty for nothing!"

Harry turned to the elf. "Dobby? He's right, you know. You shouldn't feel guilty for something you can't do anything about."

There was a knock at the door. "Oh, shite! I'll bet that's Astrofel or Andaral; or maybe both, and we're still lolling about!" Harry exclaimed. "Dobby, please answer the door. Draco, come on; we've a quick shower to run."

Following his husband into the bathing room, carrying their new clothing, Draco remonstrated with his lover. "Harry, calm down. I enjoy my bathing with you too much to rush it. Either they'll wait, or they'll come back."

It wasn't easy, but Draco got his way, and they emerged about an hour later; clean, relaxed, and dressed in their new tunics.

They were greeted with "You might want to change into something you can exercise in."

'The dragons have arrived,' Draco 'said' impertinently to his husband.

Despite himself, Harry snickered. 'So it would seem,' he remarked back, humour evident in his 'voice.'

Aloud, Harry said "I'm sorry; did we keep you waiting? And what's on the agenda today?"

Astrofel raised an eyebrow. "You know perfectly well how long I've been here. As for what's on the agenda, that's up to the two of you; are you up for some lessons?"

'What do you say, lover mine? Lessons? Or parading around, showing off our new tunics?' Harry asked.

'I'd love to show off the tunics, but I don't think we have an appreciative audience. But we haven't eaten, either.'

"I'm sorry we kept you waiting; it was rather - unavoidable," Harry said, sending a pretend glare at his husband. "Can we presume upon your patience a bit more? We do need to change, and we haven't eaten, yet." 'Why am I finding myself doing all the talking? Did your lips get sewn up when I had my tongue elsewhere?' Harry asked of his mate.

"I suggest a light breakfast. You won't want anything heavy weighing you down," Astrofel said.

'Why, Harry! Whatever are you suggesting?!' Draco asked, coyly. 'No, you're doing a great job; I'm just - nervous,' he admitted. 'I never was good in 'Care of Magical Creatures,' remember? But I'll be here to pick you up if you fall down - verbally speaking.'

"Fruit and toast, then, Draco?" Harry asked aloud. They were getting pretty good at carrying on two conversations at once, he thought, congratulating himself. 'Gee, thanks. I'll keep that in mind when I've got egg running down my face.'

'Any time, sweetheart, was the saccharine reply.

Childishly, Harry stuck his tongue out at his husband. Astrofel looked at him, perplexed. Harry blushed, and Draco had to hold on to his mate to keep himself from falling down, he started laughing so hard.

"Um... Private joke?" Harry said to the dragon, in halting explanation. He grabbed his mate's hand, and started hauling him off to the wardrobe so they could change clothes - a bit awkwardly, since Draco was still laughing hard enough to have problems with his balance.

"It wasn't that funny!" he hissed, once they were out of sight and starting to undress.

Draco, still chuckling lightly, agreed, but "I couldn't help it - the look on his face, and he's telepathic? Didn't he hear any of that?"

Harry paused. "You know, it doesn't seem he did. Maybe we've been making assumptions where we shouldn't?"

The blonde shrugged. "Could be, but..." He paused for a bit to put his thoughts in order, then continued. "You know, Granger once bored me to tears with an explanation of some muggle thing called a 'ratty-oh.'"

"Radio," Harry corrected, absently. He thought he knew where this was going, and was already contemplating the implications.

"Whatever... Anyway, one of the things she went on about was 'stations' on different frequencies. Maybe we're on a different frequency when we 'talk' together?"

He'd been right. Harry was silent for minute, trying to put it all together. Finally, he gave up; there were too many 'if's' and not enough facts. "It's an interesting thought, but how would you test it? And if you don't know about radio, how do you know about frequencies?"

"In order: We'll have to think about ways of testing it, and 'radio' isn't the only thing with frequencies, Harry. Sound, light - sound familiar?"

"Okay... Sorry," he said, as stood up from putting his shoes back on.

Draco kissed his mate on the cheek as he was finishing the fastenings on his old school robes. "Forgiven. Now! Breakfast! I'm famished!"

After their light breakfast, accompanied by tea and juice (coffee would overpower the taste of the fruit, Draco insisted), they were ready to continue.

"So what are you teaching us, today, Astrofel?" Harry asked.

"I won't be teaching you. I'm taking you to a couple, also dragons, who can. And they will be the ones to assess what best to teach you. What I can tell you is that they will be teaching you martial arts," he explained, as he opened the door. They started to file out.

"Martial... Military skills?" Draco queried, surprised.

Astrofel laughed. "In a way, yes; but probably not Western style. Self-defence courses that can also be used offensively; a lot of it is unarmed combat techniques from the East, but there are styles from India, Africa, and elsewhere as well. As I said, though, they will make the decision about what suits you best."

"When are we going to start learning how to use our magic?" the blonde wanted to know.

"When you have a good, basic, knowledge of martial arts." As Draco started to protest, Astrofel explained. " There are two reasons why it was decided to do it this way; one, is that if you were learning magic at the same time, you might have a tendency to depend upon that too much, as using magic is something you're already used to. This way, you'll pay more attention to these lessons. The second reason is as an incentive to learn the martial arts faster. Fortunately, there are two of you; you can use each other as sparring partners."

Harry groaned. "I thought we were through with that!"

Astrofel looked at him questioningly.

"Until we bonded, all we did was bicker and fight with each other," the royal explained.

The dragon snorted, amused. "Well, you'll be doing so cooperatively, now - I hope," he said, looking at the two sidelong.

Draco smirked. "If it involves a lot of body contact, we might not get a lot of sparring done," he said, insinuatingly.

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed, blushing. "Our sex life is nobody... Gah!"

"Going to spank me, Harry?" Draco teased, smirking.

"As soon as we're alone!" Harry promised.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, his smirk gone. "I... I wasn't serious, Harry... Love? Darling?"

Harry stopped as well, facing his mate. "I am; and it's too late for sweet talk." Then, grabbing the blonde's hand, started dragging him after the dragon. "Come on; we have teachers to meet."

Draco followed nervously. 'Shite. When am I going to learn not to push him too far?' he thought to himself. 'Damn it, I'm just too used to that damned school rivalry banter.' He sulked for a couple of seconds, then thought 'Well, he might try to spank me, but I'm not going down without a fight.'

Harry felt his mate's rebelliousness. "And if you fight, it's just going to last longer."

'Bugger.'

"Here we are," Astrofel said, amusement evident in his voice. Harry gave him a sharp glance, but didn't say anything about it, which only seemed to amuse the dragon more.

After being admitted, Astrofel introduced them. "These are Ornei, and Atalai," indicating two Asian-looking men. Ornei was about five foot four inches in height and of a rather solid build, Atalai about five foot eight inches, and more slender. "Ornei, Atalai, may I introduce Harry and Draco D'Lumiere; the bonded Veela I told you of?"

Harry frowned. He might be mostly Veela, but it wasn't a designation he was comfortable with, yet. He could feel that his mate wasn't entirely sure of that introduction, either. Still, it wasn't untrue, so he could hardly protest. Yes, damn it, he would! "Excuse me, Astrofel, but while what you call us may be mostly true, it's not something we're used to identifying ourselves as, as of yet." Okay, it was a very mild protest, but he didn't want to alienate anyone, and he felt he was already on thin ice with this particular dragon.

Astrofel nodded his head in acknowledgment, then said "I'll just leave you for now. I, or perhaps that elf of yours, will be back to guide you back to your quarters for the midday meal."

"He's a friend and employee, but thank you," Harry said, correcting the 'of yours' part of the comment.

'Damn, love; don't you let any detail go?' Draco queried, giving his mate a mild reproof.

'You think I'm being overly sensitive?'

'Just a little, yes. Are you trying to get that egg on your face?'

'Point taken,' the dark-haired young man 'said,' brushing his lips over his mate's.

"Hem-hem!" came from behind them.

Turning, Harry faced the two 'men' who would be their new teachers, putting an arm around Draco's waist. "You have a problem with us being a male couple?" he asked mildly.

Grinning, Ornei said "Not at all. Didn't Astrofel mention that we" he said, indicating Atalai and himself, "were a couple?"

Startled, Harry said "Yes, but I didn't think.. I just..." Turning his head to his bonded, he said "Got a hankie, love? I think I just got egg on my face." The other couple burst out laughing.

Eyes twinkling, Draco grinned as he said "Bound to happen, sooner or later. What can you expect from a Gryffindor?" Harry swatted his mate's bottom; sharply, but not hard. Draco bit his lip and tried to look repentant. He wasn't very successful. The four were instant friends.

"Um... If it's not too personal... I mean, everyone else here seems to look European; why do you look Asian?" Harry asked.

"Harry!" Draco remonstrated.

Harry ignored him, waiting for an answer.

"We don't mind... Draco, isn't it?" Atalai said. At Draco's affirmation of his identification, Atalai went on. "It's because of our jobs, really. Since the martial arts are mostly of Asian origin, we decided, when we were learning human forms, to take on an Asian appearance."

Draco thought to note a logic error in that, but decided to let it go.

"Why don't we sit down? We won't have much of a chance for it, once we've actually started lessons," Ornei suggested. Once they were seated, he offered tea or other refreshments, but since Harry and Draco had just breakfasted, they declined.

"Alright, then," Atalai said, "let's begin. What we're going to do is some magic to find out your physical capabilities and potentials, as well as where your interests might lie. It's a lot faster this way than to try to explain every style to you, and let you decide for yourselves. There are literally hundreds, and not knowing the intricacies of them, you'd likely pick the wrong one for you, anyway - no offense meant!" he added quickly.

Harry didn't like the choice being taken out of his hands yet again, but conceded that they probably knew what they were talking about. Draco concurred. Speaking for them both - again - Harry said, with a sigh, "Very well."

For some reason, this took longer than the Council examination, involving the young men being tested both together and separately, and changing position, standing to sitting, crouching to supine, from time to time. When they were through, the two 'Asians' conferred, then Atalai presented their findings. "We think you'd do best with two different styles; Dim Mak, and Ninjutsu. Dim Mak may have originated either in China or India, and is almost a purely pressure-point style of fighting. It can be the most deadly, but the same techniques can also be used to heal. Ninjutsu was developed by Japanese mountain people to use against invading samurai warlords, and among other things, teaches close range combat, and the art of invisibility and espionage; also map making, disguise, silent entry and escape, leaping, high endurance, sabotage, and the use of anything in your surroundings as a weapon."

Something there didn't sound right to Draco. "Invisibility?" he asked.

"Through techniques used to blend into your surroundings; either as someone who belongs there, or otherwise; very handy if you can't use magic, due to detectors, to do the same," Ornei explained.

"And how long will it take to learn these styles?" Harry asked, apprehensively.

"That depends on you and your magic, really." the smaller man said. "Muggles take three to five years to become somewhat proficient, with constant application and study, and perhaps a decade or two more to become expert. But it takes a steady regimen of practice even after that, to retain a high level of proficiency. If your magic gets involved, and that depends on your will, the time might be shortened considerably."

"Bloody hell," Harry said, appalled.

"I'll second that," Draco chimed in.

"Here are some books that will give you some history and outlines some of the techniques, plus one for stretching, limbering, and strengthening exercises. That last will be more useful as a book than the others, but I thought you'd like some idea of what you'd be learning," Atalai said. " And for today, I think we'll concentrate on the stretching and limbering exercises. This afternoon, we'll add in the strengthening exercises, and introduce you to some of the ninjutsu weapons. We'll take you along as quickly as you can firmly learn what we teach. It's all up to you, really," he said, repeating what his partner had said.

By dinnertime, both boys were sore, and thankful for the break. By suppertime, they were not only exhausted, but their heads felt over-stuffed with the information that had been provided, along with the introductory lessons to a couple of the most common ninjutsu weapons - the short sword, and darts. When they fell into bed that night, they were too tired to do more than cuddle. If there had been an observer, they would have noted a light golden glow around both bodies for about an hour after the couple fell asleep.

Chapter Eighteen

When he woke, Draco found Harry's arm draped over his chest, which both created a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, and annoyed the hell out of him. He wasn't a possession, damn it! And his Harry seemed to be forgetting that, lately. Malfoy's owned, they weren't owned - even if, technically, he wasn't a Malfoy any longer. At the same time, he liked the feeling of being cherished, and protected. There had to be a middle ground, and by the gods, he was going to find it - provided he didn't wind up face-down over Harry's lap, again. His lover really knew how to use his hands; even inappropriately. Still, there was something about being helpless in his husband's powerful grasp that... No! But that thought had already started making the resultant emotions evident in his body. Damned betraying body, anyway.

Fortunately, Harry chose that moment in the blonde's thoughts to stir, effectively distracting him from them. Harry turned more towards the delicious source of heat, drawing it closer to himself, nuzzling the slender, pale neck. Well, that didn't help the problem downstairs at all! Fortunately, the cure was the same as the cause. Draco pressed himself closer to the raven-haired man's body, silently demanding more.

"Mmmm..." Harry hummed. "What a wonderful way to wake up."

"You say that every morning," Draco reminded.

Harry grinned. "And I never get tired of it."

"What? Saying it?" Draco's tone was just bit snide, but Harry didn't mind - much.

Nuzzling into that creamy neck again, he replied "No; waking up to you."

Draco's heart turned to goo, but he refused to show it. "Getting in a rut, huh?"

Harry raised his head and looked into the silver eyes now below him. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Nothing - not wearing any," the blonde declared, grinning, rolling over to expose his arse and prove his point.

The royal smirked back, letting the issue go, as his hands wandered down to caress his mate's firm, white globes. "Good thing, too, or I might drill a hole through them."

"Oh, promises, promises. You're all talk, Harry; no action."

The ex-Gryffindor raised an eyebrow. "That reminds me; I owe you a spanking, from yesterday," he said, as he gave the arse he was caressing a light slap.

Hoping to distract his husband from that line of thought, Draco threw his arms around his mate's neck, kissing him deeply. Then he said "Oh, shut up and shag me, already."

Harry looked at his mate, then leaned over and captured his partner's lips in an open-mouthed kiss that Draco could have sworn sucked all the air from his lungs. Their foreplay was noisy, and almost savage, mouths licking, biting, sucking, hands stroking, caressing, grasping, squeezing, arms crushing, before Harry finally arranged his mate to gain access to his entrance, and gently slid himself home. Then a slow thrusting tempo began, increasing rapidly, but lasting much longer than ever before, until Draco's mind was lost in a frenzy of pleasure and passion. He came twice before Harry finished, without his cock ever once being touched by anything but the occasional press of their bodies together, the first time, and with his lover's hand wrapped around it, the second.

Harry's head sank onto the blonde's chest, panting. Sweat dripped from them both, and Draco's contribution was slowly running off his belly and down his side, yet Draco couldn't bring himself to care. His husband was still inside him, and everything felt right with the world.

"When you've cleaned up, come to the dojo," called a voice. "If you still need to eat, please do not linger; we have a lot to do, today." The sound of a door opening, then closing, could be heard.

Both young men were as red as beets. "Ornei?" Draco queried.

"Sounded like it," was the reply, "and it seems within the scope of his sense of humour."

"We're not going to let him get away with this, are we." It wasn't a question.

"Definitely not."

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I love it, but you're still in me, and if we're to have lessons, we need to shower and get ready."

Harry grinned, remembering that one time on the trail, and thrust gently a few times. "You're sure?"

"Oh! Merlin! Harry! Stop that! Oh, shite... Or not..." Draco said, getting hard again.

Harry slid out of his mate, got off the bed and held out his hand to help his partner up.

Draco half-glared at his husband. "That - was not nice," he said.

"Would you have rather had the spanking?"

Draco thought about it too long.

"I thought so," Harry said softly. "I rather enjoyed it, too."

Nervous, the blonde said "Harry, I'm not sure I..."

"Neither am I, love. But maybe some gentle exploration? I rather like your hands on my arse, too, if more gently."

Draco changed the subject. Taking his lover's hand, he pulled himself up, and stepped out of bed. "Shower, then breakfast. I'm not ready for this subject, yet." Harry nodded his acquiescence.

They went in the shower, and helped each other wash off. In light of the new information his lover had vouchsafed, Draco couldn't resist soaping and washing the strong, tight, angular mounds of his mate's buttocks, even exploring the crack and tight hole, there.

"Draco?" Harry said, voice somewhat strained.

"Mm-hm?"

"Remember I said that every once in a while...?"

The blonde looked up from his task to his mate in mild surprise. Then, tenderly, he left off his ministrations, and moulded himself to his mate's back, his manhood raising its head yet again. Draco let it fall horizontally in-between Harry's butt cheeks, and pressed himself tightly to his love, sliding it up and down the crevice, reaching around and playing with the darker man's nipples, running his hands over his torso, then down to play with the dark nest of hair low on his mate's pelvis.

Harry groaned his appreciation, but thrust back a bit in impatience. The blonde veela took one hand from Harry's front, to guide himself to his mate's entrance. It had been a while, so Draco entered slowly; too slowly, for Harry's liking, who pressed back into the penetration, finally feeling that fullness he'd been missing. "Now, Draco. Do it now," Harry directed hoarsely.

The 'please' wasn't uttered, but it was present in the tone of his husband's voice, and in his mind, and Draco set to the task of taking care of his mate's needs, with utter enjoyment. Maybe he did need to be a little more open minded to other experiences than having his mate service him all the time; but he did love the feel of his husband on him, and in him. He grasped Harry's prick and started pumping it in time with his own rhythm. Despite the fact that he'd already had two seminal releases that morning, he quickly found himself reaching the peak again. "Harry... I'm - getting close," he warned. Suddenly, he found himself caught up in their mental/emotional bond, experiencing both Harry's, and his own, physical and emotional feelings. Soon after, the wave he'd been riding broke as he spilled his seed deep into his lover, the brunette's seed shooting across the shower and spilling over his hand at the same time.

Draco's knees buckled in the aftermath, and he found himself kneeling on the shower floor, Harry kneeling beside him, concerned.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

Draco looked into his husband's eyes, the green flecked with gold. He smiled, putting his arms around Harry's neck. "Yes, I'm fine, love. It's just... That was intense."

Harry gave a little grin. "Yes, it was. We don't make enough use of our bond," he said.

"Did you force it?" Draco asked, curious.

Harry frowned. "No, just - invoked it, I guess. I wanted to know... I was curious; what it would be like, now," he said, blushing.

Draco cupped his cheek, and gently kissed him. "We must look a right pair, kneeling in the shower. We still need to eat and get to... What did Ornei call it - a dough-joe?"

"Something like that, yes. I'm assuming he means the training area," Harry replied. "So what would my wonderful husband like for breakfast, this morning?" he asked, getting off the floor.

"Oh, so now that I've shagged you silly, I'm a wonderful husband?" Draco snarked, getting up.

Harry looked at him. "You know, if you were a woman, I'd think this was 'that time of the month' for you." His eyes widened. "Ah, gods, no... Pomfrey did say that you were fully capable..."

"Harry James Potter, I -"

"D'Lumiere," Harry corrected, foolishly.

"I don't give a damn! Whatever! But I am not some bloody woman, and I am not 'on the rag!' And if you think for one minute that..."

He didn't get any further. He was effectively silenced by a pair of lips that always managed to intoxicate him, despite himself. In a last gesture of defiance, just before he lost all willpower to resist, he kicked Harry in the shins - not that it did much good. Bare feet can't do a lot of damage.

When he released a dazed Draco, Harry grabbed an oversized towel, and quickly, almost roughly, dried the blonde off, then used the same towel on himself while Draco wrapped another towel around himself, and went to put some clothes on. As he stalked out of the bathroom, he tried to come up with a parting shot. "Don't think... Um..." He knew he should be extremely angry about something, but for some reason, he'd forgotten just what - for now. With a little snort, he again headed for the common room. Harry was less than a minute behind him, water beading his skin where his quick toweling had missed, and dripping from his hair. He'd have to do a better job, or risk wetting his clothes, and getting very chilled when they left their rooms.

"Eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon, coffee and orange juice, please," Harry asked of the air when came out of the bathroom, then continued on to their sleeping area, finding his husband mostly dressed. "Draco, love, I'm sorry. If you were a woman, I might not want you; and I most certainly want you and need you, as much as I need air, water and food. You're my life. You know that, don't you?"

Draco paused, then continued dressing, remaining silent while he gathered the will needed not to forgive so quickly or easily.

"It's just... Well, Madame Pomfrey did say that you were fully capable of becoming pregnant; when we felt safe."

Draco spun around to face his mate. "So now you're saying I'm pregnant?" he demanded.

"What? No! But women have to get rid of unused eggs, so I thought maybe - but not in the same way..." Harry's voice trailed off as he realised he was just digging himself deeper into trouble with the blonde. "Sorry," he whispered, walking off, back to the common room.

'Shite,' Draco thought. 'I could deal with anything but this. I can't deal with him beating himself up; that's my job.' He reluctantly followed his mate out into the common room. Catching him up, he put his arms around his husband's waist, laying his head on the royal's shoulder. Harry just stood there, overlaying the blonde's arms with his own, and gently holding his hands.

"I was being a bit difficult, wasn't I?" the ex-Slytherin asked.

"A bit," Harry replied softly, afraid he'd set his mate off again, but refusing to lie to him.

"You've been treating me as though I were a woman, Harry," Draco instructed, equally softly. "I might be able to bear your children, and I want to someday, but I most definitely am not a woman, and I won't be treated as one." He let go of Harry just enough to turn him around, then looked up, slightly, into those gorgeously green orbs, now slightly darkened in sorrow and confusion. "Do you understand?"

Harry frowned, slightly. "I'm not sure how I've been treating you like a woman, love, but I do know that I've hurt your pride, and for that, I'm sorry," he said.

Draco nodded, accepting that, and laid his head on the taller man's shoulder. "I'm not going to go into instances, but when you do it in future, I'll let you know," he said quietly.

Harry nodded. "Am I overprotective?" he guessed.

"I usually like you being protective, but you do tend to over-do it a bit," the blonde admitted. "You need to let me fight my own battles, too." That said, he lifted his head to look into those amazing eyes again. "But you better be ready to rescue my arse if I need it!" he said pertly.

Harry chuckled. "That's one part I'd save no matter what, love," he said, slyly. Then he ran out the door, laughing, while Draco's mouth was still hanging open in shock.

Harry looked up from the shuriken he'd been looking at when his mate finally entered the dojo. Draco's eyes were bright, his lips thin, and his face slightly pink, but all he did punch his still-chuckling mate in the arm and glare at him. "You're for it, lover - just you wait!" he said, whispering.

"But, sweetheart; baby-doll; you know I love all of you, don't you? I can't help it if you have a particularly luscious arse, now, can I?" Harry asked, 'innocently.'

Draco blushed, looking over Harry's shoulder. Half turning, the raven-haired lad saw that they'd been overheard by their tutors - Ornei and Atalai were standing just feet away, grinning from ear to ear at their embarrassment.

"Well, he doesn't have a tail, but I suppose, for a Veela, he has a decent arse," Ornei said, still grinning.

"If you weren't another species, I'd be getting jealous about now," Harry laughed, face still red, and pulling Draco to his side.

Atalai changed the subject. "I think we'll begin with seeing how much you retained of what you learned yesterday," he said.

Gratefully, Draco nodded at the tall 'Asian.' To the amazement of all four, both young men performed credibly. True, they needed refining and polishing, but they had retained perfectly the lessons of the day before.

Harry caught Ornei looking at them thoughtfully. "Yes?"

"Your muscles; aren't they sore?"

"No... But they should be, shouldn't they - after all that exercise? Come to think of it, my muscles weren't sore after learning how to use my wings, either. Odd. Draco?" he said, to catch his mate's attention. Upon seeing that he had it, he continued. "Have you had any sore muscles at all since we've been here?"

Draco blushed. "Only..."

"I don't think that counts," Harry quickly interrupted, blushing in turn as he caught the imagery from his husband's mind.

Draco shook his head. "Then, no."

"Don't you think that's odd? We've been using muscles as never before; first with flying, and then all those exercises yesterday... We should be half-crippled, don't you think?" Harry asked.

Thoughtfully, the blonde nodded. "I'd think so, yes," he replied.

"Then why aren't we?" was the next question, although he didn't really expect an answer.

Draco just shook his head in puzzlement, then shook the mood off. "Well, I don't know about you, darling, but I'm not about to worry because I'm not in pain."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at his mate. "Darling? Now who's being sappy?" he teased, then spoke on, happily. "But you're right! Why worry about what's not going wrong?" He hooked an arm around his lover's waist, and pulled him into a kiss, ignoring their instructor's presence.

The blonde's face had pinkened from being caught at his slip of the tongue, but he was relieved that Harry had immediately let it go, instead of dwelling on it, so he allowed himself to be semi-publicly man-handled. After all, it was his man.

Things continued on in the same vein for the next six months, being joined from time to time by others who wished to learn one form of martial arts or another. They had strengthening exercises, limbering exercises, lessons, both educational and physical, and then cool-down exercises. Then it was 'home,' to their assigned rooms to wash up, dine, enjoy each other's company for a couple of hours while they reviewed what they'd learned that day (it need hardly be mentioned that they enjoyed each other in many other varied ways, as well); then wake up the next morning refreshed, and with the previous day's lessons firmly implanted, needing only refinement to be perfect.

Still, neither Ornei nor Atalai seemed pleased. Rather, they were troubled by two things; the rapidity of the young couple's learning of their arts, and some - stiffness - in the way they moved. The katas and exercises assigned should have both young men moving with a certain grace and fluidity by now, and in part that was true. However, he had caught both young men in short, almost negligible pauses in their movements - but even the slightest pause could make the difference between winning and losing in a fight. After conferring with each other, they decided to add yet another class to the boys' curriculum.

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"You have got to be kidding!" Harry exclaimed. "BALLET?!"

"And other forms of dance requiring strength and grace, yes; including various forms of sword dancing," Atalai responded. "Your movements aren't smooth or graceful enough. You need to be able to move smoothly; to increase the efficiency of your body's movements, and thus your defences and attacks. The exercises and katas we've been setting you should have done this on their own, but you have learned in six months what takes most three years to learn. I believe that this is what is at the root of the problem; you have learned too much, too quickly, and while you have integrated the knowledge into your minds and bodies extremely well, your muscles have, we believe, not been fully trained to smoothly go from one movement to another."

Ornei took up the explanation. "We hope that dance will help your bodies learn to move smoothly from one position to another, and translate that over into what we are teaching you."

"It won't be that bad, Harry," Draco soothed. "It can be rather fun, actually."

Harry stared at his partner. "You know how to dance?" he asked.

"Harry, think! Malfoy? Aristocrat? Of course I was taught how to dance. I know the piano as well, though I'm not as proficient at that as I'd like."

Harry continued to gaze, wide-eyed, at his mate, and then a slow smile spread across his face, which rapidly turned into a rather mischievous grin. "Well, then, my darling sweet, why haven't you mentioned these clever qualities of yours before? You do realise that you'll be teaching me, don't you?"

"And that, Harry, is why I've not mentioned it, before. I don't like fighting with you, and I just know that we will, if you insist on this," Draco replied seriously.

"You both need lessons - someone overseeing you both, to make sure that all movements are fluid,"Ornei broke in. "She should be here, soon."

"Alandal?" the ex-Gryffindor asked.

"No, although you may have met her while you were being shown our home," Atalai responded. "She's - Ah, here she is, now!"

Harry caught sight of a beautiful silver dragon with ice-blue highlights at the door, and then a young-ish woman with light-blonde hair was standing there. 'If I weren't gay and perfectly happy being bonded to you, you'd have competition,' he 'said' to his mate.

Draco back-handed him across the stomach, causing Harry to go "Oof!"

'Okay, I deserved that,' the raven-haired man thought to his husband. 'Just don't get in the habit of it.'

The blonde smirked. 'Would that make me a naughty boy?' he teased.

'You enjoy the spankings much too much,' Harry remarked. 'How about if I made you sleep on the divan instead?'

Draco looked at his husband in horror. 'You wouldn't!'

Harry raised an eyebrow at his co-husband.

Draco grumbled, but backed down. 'Competition, huh?' he muttered half to himself, looking at the young 'woman.' He hated her already.

Harry laughed, putting his arms around his seething, pouting husband. 'I said "if I weren't gay, and perfectly happy with you," my only love,' he reminded his jealous lover.

The blonde looked at his husband, pouting, hurt to be teased on this subject. Harry felt it, and gave his bond-mate a long, passionate kiss. This was neither the time nor the place for it, but he didn't care; his mate needed reassurance and comforting. When they broke to breathe, they found all three dragons seated nearby, nearly identical looks of "Well, are you going to mate, or attend to business" on their faces. The brunette burst out laughing at the picture they made. Then, of course, he had to apologise for keeping them waiting. He did not, however, explain anything to them.

"I'm Mortraia," the blonde woman said, standing. "I take it you are Harry and Draco?" she asked, looking askance at Draco after speaking his name. "Interesting name," she commented, questioningly.

"Not my idea - really!" Draco denied. "My father's (may his spirit burn forever) way of trying to ensure that I would turn out as twisted as he, I believe. I mean destructive, and..." he stopped, confusion written plainly on his face, and looking a little annoyed with his mate, who was laughing openly at him.

"That shovel has seen a lot of use today, hasn't it? It was my turn, earlier," Harry stated, chuckling.

Mortraia looked amused, and confused. "Shovel?" she inquired.

"You put your foot in it, and then keep digging yourself in deeper while trying to rectify the situation," the dark-haired man explained, grinning.

"Ah! Well, yes, that was - amusing," she said smiling, while looking doubtfully at the red-faced, but otherwise pale-skinned young man before her.

"You're to teach us dance, then?" Harry enquired, trying to change the subject in order to ease his mate's predicament.

Mortraia shook herself from her thoughts, and turned to the taller man. "Yes. Ballet, sword dances, and dances based on other martial arts of various sorts. If you still need help after you've learned those... Well, you'd probably be hopeless, but I could try some other types of dance on you."

"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised, Mortraia, but I'll let you find that out on your own," Atalai said, joining the conversation. "You'll be able to conduct their lessons in their rooms; they're quite spacious," he added.

"Very well, then," Mortraia replied, then turned to the young couple. "I'll see you evenings, four times a week, for two hours. It's the only time I have; I've other duties." Her tone didn't allow for questions.

'Brrr...' Harry commented privately to his mate.

'People called me 'The Ice Prince.' I hope I wasn't like that,' Draco replied

'Of course not, love,' was the reply, 'sometimes you were much worse!'

Draco's eyes brightened with tears. 'Harry - please don't. You hurt me when you talk like that.'

'All this time... Triple bond, private telepathic link and all, and I find I still don't know you. I'm sorry, my love. And I think it's time we had a free day, just for you and me.' Decisively, Harry turned to the Asian couple. Mortraia had already exited the room, intent on her other business. "I'm sorry if the change of plans upsets something, but Draco and I need a day to ourselves." Looking at his mate, he added, "Maybe a couple of days." Something occurred to him, and he turned back to the two men. "Is there anywhere around here we could go shopping?" Draco's eyes had lit up when Harry informed the two dragons of his intentions; now they almost glowed.

"Shopping?" Ornei said it as though he hadn't heard of such a thing before.

"Yes; where you buy things?" Harry was quite prepared to believe that dragons, even ones who could take human form, wouldn't know about shopping.

"I know what shopping is; I'm just not sure why you'd need to," the short 'Asian' replied.

"It's fun!" Draco interjected. "And we're going to need clothing we can look good dancing in. These robes just won't do!"

'I don't treat you like a woman, love; I treat you like a flaming pouf!' Harry teased. 'Just teasing, babe. It just endears you to me more, to see you so - happy.'

'I 'heard' that, Harry! You were thinking 'so gay' - not 'so happy, and I saw that 'queen' reference, too, and it wasn't in reference to my being your mate!' Draco fumed.

Harry didn't reply right away. This was not the place for this discussion. "Ornei, Atalai, please think about places for us to shop? Draco and I have a slight - problem - to work out."

"I thought you two might be talking telepathically," Atalai said, "but I understand. I'd like to talk to the two of you, another time, about it, if you don't mind."

"Another time," Harry agreed, nodding.

"Draco, can we finish this conversation in our quarters?"

"I'm not sure I want to talk to you at all, Mr-Harry-smug-pants!" Draco replied.

Harry sighed. He privately thought that now his mate was acting like a twelve-year-old girl having a spat with her boyfriend, but he opened up their link on all levels, and flooded the other man with all of his feelings for him - all of them; the love, the tenderness, the lust and the purely emotional need for the blonde's presence in his life, but also the exasperation he was feeling right at the moment.

It took Draco entirely by surprise, and he unwittingly let down his shields, letting his mate get a good look at what was really going on with him. Suddenly, he was in Harry's arms, being carried down the passageway to their rooms, and was being peppered with kiss after kiss, despite the blonde's indignant struggles. After a few seconds, he realised the futility of it, crossed his arms over his chest, fuming, and let his mate carry him.

After Harry had let him down on his feet, in their apartment, Draco got up in his mate's face; "How the hell did you get so much stronger than me?" he yelled. "I'm almost the same height, and I'm..." He paused, looking down. "Oh. The vampire quotient."

Harry nodded. "Probably. But I'm just happy that I know what has you so frustrated!" He crooked an index finger under Draco's chin, and tilted his head up, until he was looking into his mates softly silvery orbs. "It's not my fault, you know," he said, kissing him gently.

"I know..." Draco admitted. "I just..."

"I know you've said you wanted to, but I didn't know you felt so strongly about it. You really want to have children with me!" Harry grinned, then grew somber again. "I'm so happy that you feel that way; and so sad that we can't right now. Unless..." The green-eyed Royal Veela started pacing.

Draco watched him, perplexed by this behaviour. Had his mate finally gone 'round the bend? No; he'd have felt that. So what...? He sighed, and sat down. He'd just have to wait until his lover had worked things out in his own mind - then convince the raven-haired git that he really wanted to do things his way.

"Actually, we could," Harry eventually said, sitting next his partner. "We're quite safe, here. But if we did, we wouldn't be able to leave here until he or she was school age. I mean Hogwarts school age, of course."

The blonde felt as though the ground had dropped out from under. His Harry had said that? The man had just plopped the most wonderful present in his lap - figuratively speaking, of course. If they decided to go through with this, eventually he wouldn't have a lap, to speak of. His instincts were screaming 'YES!' but his rational mind had concerns about it - now that he was thinking, instead of just feeling.

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Chapter Nineteen

Although Draco knew the decision he'd made was the right one, he often regretted it just the same. To take his mind off of it, he threw himself into learning the new skills they were were being taught. His relationship with Harry could have suffered if he'd let it, since depriving himself of a child could have resulted in him taking it out on his mate. Instead, he became more passionate, more loving. Well, most of the time, anyway. Sometimes, though not often, he'd take to brooding over the unfairness of the situation, that he had to postpone his own happiness and fulfillment in order to take lessons with his love. At such times, those around him, other than Harry, learned to speak to him only as necessary. Oh, he could have waited until after any child was born to take the lessons, but then he'd be taking them alone, and that wouldn't do; it was more fun with Harry to cajole him along, and act as a foil for his emotions and occassional 'mild' tantrums - although he'd be the last to admit that's what they were. It was just as well. Two weeks later, yet another "class" was added; they were finally going to learn how to use their magic.

"It's about bloody time," Draco muttered, upon hearing the news. He was tired of having to do everything the muggle way.

As it happened, their magic was not only stronger than wizard magic, but in some ways much easier. There were no spells or charms to learn, no hand or wand-waving patterns, and no potions to memorize, with their fiddly mixing rules and ingredients amounts. All it took was a clear mental picture of what was wanted or needed, the channelling of power, and the will for - whatever - to happen. Learning to access, channel, and control the flow of their magic - not using the wrong 'frequency' (each species of magic user had magic that was of a different type than any other, but Harry and Draco's magic covered a wide range of those) or too much or too little - was the hard part.

It turned out that while Harry was a natural with Veela, Vampire and Dragon magic, Draco's magic covered several Elfin species from Veela on down, and centaur healing arts and magics. While Harry's abilities with Veela and Vampire magic could be expected, and Draco's span of Elfin magic, while rare, wasn't unknown, the dragons training the young couple could find no reason whatsoever for Harry's Dragon-magic abilities nor Draco's Centaur-magic skills. The fact remained, however, that those skills existed; and it was those 'odd' skills in which each was most powerful.

While both were powerful in their own right, as they had been when they were able to do wizard magic, it was their bond and their power resonating with each other that produced the powerful results. This, of course, caused them to be looked upon with some doubt and wariness which, over time, dissipated as Harry and Draco showed no signs of abusing that power.

What was finally figured out was that their triple bond, along with Draco's healing magic, was what was responsible for them being able to learn and train so quickly without painful side-effects, going so far as to strengthen their muscles and increase their stamina to be able to handle the strains put upon them.

"Harry, I need a break. It's been weeks since we went flying, and we never did get to go do that shopping you promised me."

"I know, love," Harry said, frowning slightly. "Did anyone ever get back to us about the nearest wizard town?"

"I don't care if it's wizard, muggle or troll, Harry; I need to go shopping! My clothes are totally worn out!"

"Draco, love, we haven't been here long enough to wear out your clothes. Mine are still in good condition," Harry remonstrated.

"If you call covering your arse 'good condition,' they might be," Draco commented snobbishly. "They look rather shabby, to me, and I will not have my husband looking shabby!"

"You know," Harry said thoughtfully, "I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you call me that; "my husband." It makes my nerves tingle every time."

"And I'm chopped liver, I suppose," the blonde harped.

"Of course not; you're the sexiest, most beautiful man I've ever met, and I'm very lucky to have you as my husband."

"Just remember that, Potter," Draco said sneeringly, but he was wearing a grin on his face. Then, to make sure Harry didn't think he meant it, he put his arms around the Gryffindor's neck, and kissed him; long, wet, and deep. When he broke it off, his mood had changed a bit. "Now! When are we going to do that shopping?!" he asked, briskly.

Harry chuckled, still holding his husband around the waist. "You have a one-track mind, husband mine," he said, laughingly.

"Don't give me a bad time, Harry. You need to get out of these caverns as much as I do," was Draco's sober reply.

"Mm-hm. I do," Harry admitted. He thought for a moment. "Do you still have your wand?" he asked.

Draco frowned, confused. "Yes, but..."

"Think we might still have enough wizarding magic to do a compass spell?"

Draco grinned, catching on. "It's worth a try!"

It took several tries, but they finally located a small wizarding town a hundred and fifty miles away. With dragon help, it only took an hour and a half to get there.

Madame Blavatsky's (were all top-class wizarding clothing shops called 'Madam' something-or-other?) was just what the doctor ordered, as far as Draco was concerned. He had great fun both trying on outfits himself, and having Harry try on various outfits, and pairing those outfits with differently-styled robes. Of course none of the robes were as nice as the ones Dobby had procurred for them, but for human-made clothing, they were extremely good.

They visited the local branch of Gringott's for more money, asking the goblins to be especially discreet about the transaction, stopped for a late lunch, then hit the stores again. Bookshops, shoe stores, sundries stores, even an apothecary - all were visited at least once, and sometimes two or three times as Draco or Harry decided something deserved a second think, or remembered something that might be useful. By the end of the day, they were both tired, and Draco was very happy. They dined at an elegant little restaraunt, and then headed back for the dragon demesnes.

They visited that restaraunt on a semi-regular basis the rest of the time they were with the dragons. Although the townsfolk were curious about the two, neither young man volunteered any information, although they went out of their way to be friendly. They did, however, have to come up with names for the townsfolk to call them, so used their middle names, along with the last name of 'Black.' Harry suggested it in honor of his godfather, and Draco went along with it because he was related to them.

During the next year, they mastered, or at least became proficient, with everything that was set before them. The only other thing of note to take place, was the discovery of their ability to shape-change. They both had three other forms they could change into. The first was as a dragon of the same type they were being hosted by. Approximately ten feet tall, this form was rather akin to wyverns in that they only had two legs, and wings. However, the wings were rather special. Tweny feet long, they were jointed in such a way that they could fold into 'arms' only six feet long. At the end of each 'arm' (the second joint out from the shoulder) were three strong, muscular tentacles that served as fingers. Scales existed only on the upper part of the body, and were as small as fish scales. Harry's colouring was a deep, gem-like green with a burnishing of gold when the sun hit him just right, and Draco's a deep black with a burnishing of silver. In both cases, the lighter colour became predominant when outside temperatures rose too high.

Harry's second shape was a rare type of phoenix - an Emperor Phoenix. He had a head and neck of gold that faded into a body of dark emerald green. That green carried over into the wings and long tail, where it became heavily overlaid with burgandy and black, shot through with silver tracings. His beak and legs were ebony, and of course his eyes changed not one whit with any of his shapes. They retained their colour-changing properties, but were usually a deep green.

Draco's second shape was also a rare type of phoenix, but less so; his was a Snow Phoenix. His colouring was silver and white, with black beak and legs.

If they had never changed into their phoenix forms, the abilities of that form may have never come into play. As it was, however, every ten years they would now be forced by their own natures to renew themselves. In effect, they were now practically immortal, barring a sudden, violent death, and would never appear younger than seventeen, nor older than twenty-seven years of age.

Their third form could, perhaps, be the most useful. The Faery Snow Leopard looked quite like their muggle counterparts, but were slightly larger and were able to disappear against any static background whatsoever. This was not invisibility, however, but camouflage. While moving, or against a moving background, they would be visible, their camoulaging abilities unable to adapt to changing conditions so rapidly.

In a relationship whose high points had almost always been odd ones, this was another - that they would share the same transformative forms. When Harry asked the more knowledgable dragons for possible reasons for it, he was told that the triple bond had either melded their beings together so that they were, in some ways, almost identical, or that the triple bond was possible because they were that similar to begin with.

In all of their forms - human, veela, dragon, phoenix and faery snow leopard - they often visited the outside world for recreation and relief from the tedium of repetitious schedules. Aside from that, they did manage to find time in their crowded days to make a few other friends among the dragons.

But, finally, they had learned all they needed to know - not all that the dragons could teach, certainly, but they could now defend themselves both physically and magically. However, their priorities had changed. They were not human, and they had come to accept that fully. Although both had friends who were human, their own lives had to take priority. And one of those priorities was securing Harry's rightful place as a Veela Royal.

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The next day, they started getting ready, shrinking clothing, weapons, and those items they had developed an emotional attachment to. Everything else, they left for the use or disposal by others. By noon, they were ready to leave. They transformed into their dragon forms, and flew off in the direction of the Veela demesne.

By evening, they were halfway there; but flying by night was not an intelligent option, especially if fighting were at the end of the trip. No, they would stay the night, making camp, fly to within an hour of their destination, rest, then finish their journey.

The journey itself was uneventful. At their last rest stop before the last leg of their trip, they outfitted themselves with some of the weapons they thought they'd need, discussed possible strategies in the case of this situation or that, and then chose their phoenix forms for the last hour of flight as being less threatening when they arrived, although the dragon form was faster.

The arrival of two such disparate and rare forms of phoenix brought a great deal of attention, so when Harry and Draco transformed into their human forms, it wasn't long before Thraia, Folmar and Corriga arrived, along with a small group of followers.

"D'Lumière," Thraia's utterance of the name was an admission of recognition, not greeting.

Harry met her eyes. "Thraia," he returned, then the same with the other two he recognised. "Folmar; Corriga."

"You are here for?" the spokewoman inquired.

"My right," he replied.

Without warning, she attacked, most of the rest of her group with her; but they had not caught the young couple unprepared. Harry was only vaguely aware of a figure leaving the opposing group and standing calmly to one side, as they fought. When the fighting was over, neither young man was left uninjured, but both were alive.

At this point the figure who had decided to remain neutral in the conflict, Folmar, came onto the small battlefield, holding his arms out to his sides, palms forward, in the sign for peace. Surveying the dead and injured, he then turned to the High One. "With your permission?" he asked, gesturing to the others.

Harry nodded, thinking he meant to care for the wounded. To his shock, the male Veela transformed into his predator shape, and dispatched those who still lived.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, angrily.

"They were traitors, Harry," Draco said, an eye on the male Veela for any indications that he might be wrong. "Likely they would have remained so, even if you had spared them. It was less trouble, and may have saved more lives in the long run, to kill them."

Folmar, again in his human form, gave a polite nod.

Harry frowned, and opened his mouth, but his husband headed him off. "And you gave your consent."

"I didn't know he was going to do that!" Harry protested.

"Harry - it's their way. And it was the smart thing to do. No-" Draco said, interrupting the raven-haired man's attempt to protest before he even began, "it was. I wouldn't want known traitors around our child, anyway."

"I still think-" Harry began. "What?" the former Gryffindor inquired, flummoxed.

Draco put his arms around his husband, begging to be held. Harry complied. "I couldn't help it," the blonde confessed. "I couldn't wait any longer, and we were safe at the time..." Looking up into his husband's emerald-green eyes, he said "I'm pregnant, Harry."

0x01 graphic

This story was my entrance into writing Harry Potter fanfiction (actually, into creative writing, period). Unfortunately, I made the basic beginner's mistake, and made the boys too powerful. So by the time I got to this point, any conflict was basically a foregone conclussion. Took all the fun out of writing it. If anyone wants to take the story from this point, you're welcome. All I ask is that this story be credited as the inspiration.

This story archived at http://www.thesilversnitch.net/tss1/viewstory.php?sid=670

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