Harry returned immediately to the Georgian house by Charring Cross and, though it was late, talked Mrs. Hollister into selling it to him, complete with furniture and knick knacks. She babbled happily, surrendering the keys and chortling that she had sold her house to the Great Harry Potter! She warned him about a few cursed objects, a door that would not open, and the drains, and Flooed away.

Harry walked around the sitting room, looking at all the things that were now suddenly his. It was a little like the moment he had come into ownership of Grimauld Place, but this seemed better somehow. His choice rather than the death of someone he had come to love.

Finally, he and Draco could have their own place without the interference of Lucius and Narcissa! This sudden decision had been rash but at least it had been Harry's own. There had been too many people for too many years making decisions for him.

He felt a little foolish storming out of Malfoy Manor without leaving a note for Draco and it was certainly time to let him know what happened to him, so he went to the writing desk, pulled out a scrap of parchment, and scribbled a note, urging Draco to hurry up and move in. He signed it "all my love, Harry" and folded it up. He called for Hedwig and he gave it to her. He watched her launch from the window and decided to see what the pantry might have in the way of a snack.

He found some tins and made beans on toast the Muggle way. Sitting at the kitchen table, he looked out the window into the dark night and thought of Draco. He knew the blond would be annoyed but he hoped he would arrive soon. That made Harry think of their bedroom situation and he thought he'd better get upstairs and fix it up.

He waved his dishes into the sink and set them to cleaning. He shook his head as he trudged upstairs. See? What did he need a house elf for? Draco was just lazy.

He found the master suite-significantly smaller than Draco's-and put his hands on his hips. Well, the bed was large enough and was some Victorian monstrosity with a large carved headboard in dark wood. But the duvet and the wallpaper were an abominable flower pattern. He took out his wand, thought a moment, and tried to transfigure them. The wallpaper pattern now looked like melted flowers and the duvet only got brighter. Harry scratched his head. He was rubbish at this sort of thing. He tried again and the wallpaper now was a subdued sort of paisley and the duvet became dark green with stripes. He smiled. Not bad. But Draco would like it. It was that same Slytherin green colour the man had everything in. He set about cleaning the room and lighting the candles, arranging them differently and conjuring more.

Finally he was satisfied that Draco would at least find it acceptable. By then, Hedwig had returned. She had no answering note so Harry let her out to hunt. He got a fire started in the hearth and sat in the window. He hoped Draco would come soon. He wanted to apologize for tonight. Even though Draco's Mum and Dad were gits, he knew he himself was somewhat responsible for tonight's tirade.

But as the time ticked on, Harry began to pace. Where was Draco? Did he have to pack everything tonight? No wonder it was taking so long.

He grabbed a book from the shelf. It turned out to be a wizard romance novel. Harry sighed and began to read. After a time he dozed but then woke himself with a start. He glanced toward the clock and it read 3 am.

He got up, aimed his wand at the fire to stoke it, and wandered downstairs.

He looked around the dim sitting room, the kitchen, the library, and the guestrooms. No Draco.

"So it's that way, is it? Fine." He stalked upstairs, peeled off his clothes, and got into bed. Except now he was wide awake. Where was Draco? Was he that angry? This was supposed to be their special time. Why did he have to be like that?

The bed was empty and lonely without the Slytherin, but Harry began to worry that maybe it had all gone too far. Maybe Draco wasn't coming back.

His heart gave a jolt at that. Not coming back? But didn't he love Harry? He had said he did. Of course, his treatment of Harry the last few days seemed to say the contrary. "I'm reading too much into that. He's just adjusting to things. We're both out of school for the first time and he's a Malfoy. Of course all that takes adjusting."

But for how long?

* * *

Harry must have fallen asleep sometime in the night because he awoke groggy and lethargic late in the morning. He called for Hedwig, scribbled another note, and sent her to Draco again.

He was feeling miserable. Was Draco breaking up with him? He couldn't. That would be awful. At last, Harry was on his own, a brand new house under his ownership, answering to no one. And now he couldn't even enjoy it.

He threw the covers aside, slipped on his old dressing gown, and tossed some Floo powder into the fireplace. The flames whooshed upward into the chimney. He knelt and was about to shout "Malfoy Manor!" when he changed his mind. "Hermione Granger!" he said instead, and stuck his head in the flames.

His head was spinning from many fireplaces and the scene finally stopped on one empty room he didn't recognize. "Um...hullo!" Harry looked around the ordinary room. A woman peered from a distant doorway and shrieked. She shook out her head and came closer.

"Dear me! Harry? Is...is that you?"

The woman wore a stylish jumper and tight jeans. "Hi, Mrs. Granger. Sorry to startle you."

"I'll never get used to this."

"Yeah, it does take some getting used to. I was wondering if Hermione was there."

"Yes, she is. I think she's just gotten out of the shower. Shall I get her for you?"

"Yes, please. If it's no trouble."

"Oh no trouble for you, Harry."

Harry blushed. The Grangers may not have completely understood the whole Voldemort issue, but they knew that it had been dangerous for everyone and they were just as star-struck by Harry as most of the Wizarding World.

She disappeared around the corner, but he could hear her call up the stairs for Hermione.

After a few minutes, Harry heard someone trotting down the stairs and then that familiar head of bushy brown hair came into view. She was dressed in a dressing gown and her hair was glistening from water. She flopped down in front of the fireplace with a look of concern on her face. "Harry? What's wrong?"

And then, Harry's emotions suddenly caught up with him. He had been angry at Draco and the Malfoys in general. But now he was feeling a sense of loss and loneliness he hadn't felt since Sirius died. His voice snagged in his thickened throat and it took him a moment to get it under control. His eyes stung as he looked up at her. He said it in a rush, not really knowing ahead of time what he had planned to say. "I've bought a house and I don't know if Draco's broken it off with me."

"Harry! What? Slow down. Tell me everything."

He did. How the Malfoys were complete arses to him, how Draco's attitude had changed, and about the house.

"Does Draco know where you are?" she said, a thoughtful expression passing over her face.

"Yes, I owled him twice now. I haven't heard anything."

"Well, he's got a lot to consider, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, think about it. He's going against everything his family has worked for."

"But he said he loved me."

She smiled a little sadly and cocked her head to one side. "Yes. And he did. Does!" she corrected when he sat up. "But there is a great deal for him to think about. It certainly wouldn't be nice to be estranged from his family when it means so much to him. Especially appearances. And the Malfoys seem all about appearances."

"That's for sure," he grumbled.

"So give him a little space. He knows where you live and he will contact you when he's ready."

"You think so? I hate sounding like a-Well. You know. But I...I love him, Hermione. I don't want us to break up."

"I know, Harry. And he'll see that eventually." But she didn't look convinced.

"Okay. Well. I guess I've done all I can." He stared into her parlor for a bit before he sighed. "So. You and Ron want to see the place?"

"Of course! Let me get dressed and I'll Firecall Ron. Give us at least an hour."

"Okay. Thanks, Hermione." He pulled out of the fireplace and sat back on the hearth. The empty, lonely hearth. But he was in a dressing gown too and needed a shower. Just as he rose to do that, an unfamiliar owl appeared at the window.

Relieved, Harry rushed to it and let it in. It stuck it's foot forward and Harry snatched the parchment. As the owl flew away, he read:


Dear Mr. Potter,
     Draco and I had a long discussion on the merits of the particular... lifestyle...you and he were contemplating, and he has come to the conclusion that he might have made an error of judgment. It is for the best, then, if you forget about Draco in future and pursue your own interests elsewhere.
     Though you do not like to consider the policies of Purebloods versus Halfbloods and Mud Muggleborns, you would be advised to study it. There are many families besides the Malfoys who subscribe to this premise. And though I have nothing against you personally any more, it would be wise to steer clear of anything further to do with Malfoys.
Respectfully,
Lucius Malfoy

Harry stared at the parchment open-mouthed. What the hell--? Red fury bubbled up in his chest and the room shook with it. "That bastard!"

He grabbed a parchment and scribbled an angry retort. But then, after looking at it, he tore it up. He calmed himself, knowing that an angry tirade wouldn't be useful and that Lucius might respond to something more reasonable.


Mr. Malfoy,
     I respectfully submit that you don't know what you are talking about. I ask only that you allow me to talk to Draco myself and this whole thing can be cleared up. I know I was rude to you both. I suppose there's a lot of leftover animosity about the Voldemort issue. After all, you did try to kill me a few times. And it was really gracious of you to let me live with you temporarily. But I've got my own place now and Draco and I did agree to live together. I don't think that Malfoys go back on their word, do they? So I expect to hear from Draco shortly and we can get past all this.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter

There. That would appeal to Lucius' damnable Malfoy arrogance and Harry didn't sound like such a little boy.

But as he waited for a reply, the time seemed to drag onward.

And then it looked as if there would be no reply.

"Damn these Malfoys!"

* * *

Hermione and Ron Flooed in and the first thing Harry did was shove Lucius Malfoy's letter at Hermione.

"Hmm," she said. "And you still haven't heard from Draco?"

"No. And it's pissing me off!"

They fell silent. Ron rolled his eyes and stared off into space but Hermione was knitting her brows. "Well, Harry," she said in her most studious voice. "You might have to entertain the possibility that he just may not be coming back."

"Don't say that!" He jumped to his feet. "It's just Lucius up to his old tricks again."

Hermione rose slowly and put her hands gently on his shoulders. "Harry, remember. This was your first relationship. Sometimes they don't always work out."

"Look whose talking. Look at the two of you!"

"Well there was Victor and Ron had Lavender-"

Ron was on his feet now. "You said that you and Victor didn't do anything."

She turned sharply to Ron. "I didn't do anything. But there was still a relationship of sorts. Though there was always you."

Ron seemed a bit more mollified. Harry turned away from them to stare at some cat knick-knacks on the shelf. It reminded him of Umbridge. "But I don't want this to be my first relationship," he said sullenly. "I want it to be my last."

His friends stood on either side of him. He looked at them and shrugged. "I don't mean to sound like some girl about it-" and Hermione huffed an impatient sound. "But I'm deeply in love with him. I want us to be together and I don't see why we can't."

"Blood is thicker than water, mate," said Ron softly. "And Pureblood especially."

Hermione nodded. "Draco's whole culture, his entire socialization has been directed toward a certain way of life, full of wealth and status based on out-moded and prejudicial views on a Wizards' family bloodlines. I know it doesn't make sense to you or Ron or me, but it makes a lot of sense to Draco. He's fighting it now, because I am absolutely sure he had wanted to be with you."

"Are you?" said Harry with a sneer. "I'm not so sure. Lucius Malfoy told me that Draco chose me because I had the best chance of beating Voldemort. And now that the old sod is gone Draco doesn't need me anymore."

She shook the letter at him. "Are you really going to believe what Lucius Malfoy tells you? Honestly, Harry."

"I didn't at the time. Well...I sort of didn't. But you didn't see Draco on the way to his home. He was acting like the Malfoy we knew from before. I thought maybe it was because he was heading to the manor, you know. Old habits. But now he's talking about getting house elves and treating me like some slow-witted wizard who doesn't know anything. And I haven't heard from him...and now this." His eyes stung again but he refused to cry in front of his friends.

Hermione looked at Ron worriedly. "Give him a chance," she said. "He needs time to get adjusted to everything, too. He'll owl you when he's sorted it out. You'll see."

Harry couldn't answer. The swelling in his throat constricted it too tightly. He nodded instead. They let themselves out, saying their good-byes and Flooing with promises to owl him.

Harry sat alone again on the old flowery sofa, wondering if Draco had the guts to go over his father's head.

* * *

The next morning was just as bleak as the last. But after still hearing nothing from Draco, Harry began to get angry. "If that's the way it's going to be, then fine!"

He fixed himself a large breakfast, wolfed it down, and then began deciding what knick-knacks would go into the rubbish.

He started with the sitting room. The ceramic cats were the first things he tossed. He created an expandable sack and used his wand to send the things flying. Busts of ugly wizards, small paintings of unnerving landscapes, tea cups with mismatched saucers. But when he got to a clock, he paused. Some sort of unnatural feeling was emanating from the clock. It was a strange sensation to be sure. But this must be one of those cursed objects Mrs. Hollister has been talking about.

Harry stared at it and prodded it with his wand before he decided that this was probably not a good idea. He tried some experimental spells, just to see how the thing would react-and the clock seemed to swell, pulsating like a boil waiting to burst. Harry backed off and scratched his head. It was a good distraction to get his mind off of Draco. And really, it was also quite exciting trying to figure out without some life or death struggle hanging over his head as it had done when puzzles like this had to do with Voldemort.

He decided to put a shield around it, in case it did explode, and dug out a few of his books from school.

After studying for a few hours-the first real effort he made since N.E.W.T.s-Harry smiled to himself. He used a Charm from the book and the clock settled down at once. Even chimed melodically. He tested it and there didn't seem to be any more dark magic attached to it. He really was good at some of this, he decided. Perhaps curse breaker. Maybe that would be a good career choice. He didn't necessarily have to work for Gringotts (Goblins made him nervous) but he could certainly see himself doing something similar. It felt good to make a decision like that. To know what his future might hold. He rushed upstairs with book in hand and fixed the awful wallpaper that he had half-way transfigured before and set about redoing the room.

After he was finished he surveyed his handywork. "Not bad, Harry," he said and trod downstairs. He was about to make himself a congratulatory lunch when a dark owl tapped its beak on the window pane.

Harry jumped up and stared at it. His heart pounded. That was Fergus, Draco's owl.

He rushed to the window and opened the sash. The owl hopped in and lifted its parchment-covered leg.

Harry took the scroll with shaking hands. As soon as the parchment was free of the owl's leg, the bird turned, hopped up onto the sill, and took flight.

Harry unfurled it and read:



Potter,
     Thanks for nothing. My parents were completely insulted by your ungrateful behaviour and I have to admit, they may have something there.      My father tried to talk some rubbish into me, but I dismissed it. But then you had to just up and leave. You never said a word until sending Hedwig hours later. And then you bought that abominable hovel in Charring Cross. So I guess that says it best. I told you I hated it and wouldn't live there. I guess that's your answer. Maybe Father was right. Have a good life, hero.
Draco

Harry stared at the parchment, dumbstruck. He read it through again before crushing it in his hand. "That idiot!"

He scrambled to the desk and pulled out fresh parchment. He jabbed his quill into the ink and began writing immediately.



Malfoy,
     You are a prick!
Harry

He called for Hedwig and she took the parchment anxiously, sailing out the window. Harry watched her fly and then whirled away. He kicked at a pillow that had fallen from the sofa. He knocked the leg of the small table before it, kicked it again, and then grabbed his wand and angrily transfigured it into a tea cozy. He zapped various objects off the shelves and changed them into kitchen utensils. He aimed his wand at a trolly laden with crystal decanters and he was about to transfigure them when he realized what they were. Instead, he pocketed his wand, went to the decanters, and poured himself a tall...something. Some carmel-coloured liquor into a glass and drank it down. It burned on its way and Harry grimaced, but when it reached his belly, it warmed him nicely.

He sat hard on the sofa cradling the decanter under his arm and refilled the glass.

After a few minutes, he began to feel better. But then there was an owl tapping at his window again. He wobbled toward the window and let it in.

The owl hopped toward him and offered the parchment. Harry took it and unrolled it.



Potter,
     What the fuck did you call me? You've got your nerve, you insufferable, conceited Halfblood! I risked everything for you. You've caused me no end of trouble. You told Ginny when we specifically agreed not to tell anyone. And then she blabbed it all over the school and I was exiled from my own home! And you have the nerve to call ME a prick!
     Fuck off!
Malfoy

"Oh yeah!" Harry ran to the desk, yanked out the stack of parchment, sending several sheafs flying, and slammed it to the desk. He was writing furiously when Hedwig returned.



Malfoy You Ponce!
     You still don't get it, do you? Still calling people Halfbloods. Were you asleep during this war? Did you happen to notice that your bloody father ended up in prison? Did you notice bloody Voldemort trying to kill us? Okay. So you had to stay away from your home for a bit when Ginny ACCIDENTALLY let slip about us. (And when are you going to get over that?) But then you got to go home with me for the summer and then you got your own bloody room at Hogwarts where we were able to shag at will (not that we'll be doing that anymore! I'd rather shag a skrewt!)
     I don't get you, Malfoy. You're such a spoiled brat that you don't know how good you had it. I loved you, you know. I bought this house for us, even though you say you hate it, but I was fixing up the bedroom and stuff for YOU. The way YOU'D like it. But what the hell? You don't care and you never will. Because everything has to absolutely be the way YOU want it. Never mind that I'm free, that I'm on my own for the first time EVER!
     So the hell with you. You never loved me anyway. It's probably just as your father said. You chose me because you knew I could win. Well I did. But you know what? YOU lost!
H

Hedwig eyed him suspiciously as he tied it to her leg. He was leaning precariously over as he did so and she had to push him up by butting his head with hers. She chirruped at him but he waved her off. "Hurry up," he snapped. She flapped her wings in his face and he staggered back, sitting hard on the sofa. He poured another into his glass and drank it down.

He might have snoozed because he snapped up abruptly when Fergus appeared at the open window. It hopped forward and seemed to have a weary look in its eye. It stretched its leg out and Harry snatched the parchment off it. It passed Hedwig in the window as it flew off, giving her a conciliatory look.



Potter,
     That was the biggest load of crap I have ever read. You are the most annoying drama queen! I am NOT spoiled! My parents gave me hell for your impolite behaviour. They blamed ME! Okay, so my mother wasn't thrilled to have you in the house. But she never had to deal with Halfbloods wizards like you before. And you weren't very nice to her the few times you met her. What was she supposed to think? And Father...well. He was trying to accept you. In his way. Sort of. He's lived like that a long time. So have I. And I changed.
Oh. That's right. You think I haven't. You think it was all a scheme by my father to redeem the Malfoy name. Well fuck you and your name! You know I bloody well loved you! I must have told you a thousand times at least. I can't help it if you are just too stupid to realize it.
And you still picked the house I didn't like.
D
P.S. What sort of things do you THINK I like, anyway? Not that you ever paid attention.

Harry dragged the rest of the parchment to the sofa, dropping sheets along the way, and began scrawling unsteadily on his lap. When Hedwig perched, waiting on the sill, she seemed to sigh.



Malfoy,
     Of course I paid attention! How could I avoid it when practically everything you wear, everything in your room is Slytherin green!
     And in case your blond brain can't figure out what I just said, I decorated our my bedroom in green!
H

Draco's owl sailed in just as Hedwig returned. They exchanged glances.



Potter,
     I knew you never paid attention. It isn't Slytherin green. It's the same green as- Never mind!
I still hate the house.
     But...I guess... I did like the balcony on the second floor. And the bay window. But that was all! Not that you had anything to do with it.
D




Malfoy,
     What other kind of green could there possibly b-Oh. Ha! You're lying, of course. It's Slytherin green.
H




Potter,
     Exhibit A, you ponce. This piece of fabric is from my duvet. I actually cut off a piece of my own EXTREMELY EXPENSIVE duvet to show you how stupid you are. And Exhibit B is a piece of my Slytherin scarf. Note that they do not match. Now pick up Exhibit A and go to a mirror. Stand in front of it and hold the bloody thing up to your face. Tell me it doesn't match. If you can prove it, I will personally eat my duvet.
D
P.S. I suppose you've put horrid Muggle blinds on the bay window when they simply scream for a decent set of curtains. That would be just like you. No taste.




Malfoy,
     And that's another thing. You are always insulting me. I may not have been rich (Jeez, Draco you saw how I lived!) but I'm not inept. I just haven't had the practice. And I DID put in drapery upstairs. And a lovely dark green duvet with tiny black stripes. Not that you'll ever see it.
     So there!
H
P.S. Okay. So it does match my eyes. That was just a lucky coincidence.




Potter,
     How much more of an idiot can you be? It isn't a coincidence.
     And I have to admit. That duvet does show taste. If it really looks like you said. I stand corrected.
Sorry.
D




Malfoy,
     Did you actually apologize to me? That's a new one.
     I worked hard on that damned room. And it really does look nice. Dark wood and dark green. I rather like it. I might keep it the way it is or I might not. I didn't do it for me, after all. But it is kind of lonely. Not that I need you in it. I was thinking of doing the sitting room in maroons.
H




Potter,
     Gryffindor colours? Don't be mental. How about a sophisticated vermillion if you must stay in the red family? Lighter woods, then, and brass candlesticks. Perhaps even a black laquer table- but that might be too much. Persian carpets. A chandelier over the piano? I at least liked the style of the bookshelves. You're keeping those, aren't you?
     Charming colours is no small task. If you need help with it...I guess...if I had time...I could...take a look. If you wanted.
Draco




Draco,
     That sounds...okay. I don't know if I can manage it all on my own. The wall colour has to be just right, doesn't it? I don't know that I'm that good with colour Charms. If you wanted to drop by...anytime, really...that would be fine. Maybe I could whip up a curry. If you wanted to drop by tonight, say. Or...whenever.
Harry




Harry,
     I actually have time this evening. If you want me to. Should I Floo?
Draco




     Yes, please.
Harry

Moments later the Floo whooshed and Draco stepped through. He looked around at the tea cozy and the toasters on the shelves next to the blenders.

"What the hell--?"

"Just...redecorating." Harry stood unsteadily.

"Harry? Are you pissed?"

Harry glanced at the empty decanter. "Maybe a little."

Draco aimed his wand and hit him with an Enervate. Harry shook himself awake and really looked at Draco. He was as gorgeous as always, wearing a dark turtleneck that set off his light hair and pale complexion. Newly revived, Harry felt a little embarrassed by his kitchen transfigurations. "This was just...just...a little frustration. I was tossing a lot of it anyway. Do you want to see what I've done in the bedroom?" he sputtered.

Draco only nodded.

Harry walked up the stairs, feeling Draco's presence behind him with a tingle on his skin. He stepped into the room and moved aside to let Draco pass. The blond stood in the centre of the room and surveyed Harry's work.

Harry was proud of what he'd done, never believing Draco would ever again be standing there looking it over.

Harry's eyes scoured Draco's pale, smooth cheeks, his grey eyes under light brows. His fringe hung in soft lengths nearly to his snowy lashes. "It's a good job," he said softly. "And it isn't Slytherin green. Idiot."

Harry stepped closer, his heart thudding in his chest. "So you like it?"

Draco's tongue passed over his pink lips, moistening them. "Yes." His eyes were tracking Harry.

Harry took another step. "Are you going to help me with the sitting room?"

Draco seemed mesmerized by Harry for a moment before he turned away, his throat swallowing. "I don't see why not."

Neither of them moved. No one spoke.

Draco adjusted his robes and turned to Harry again. Very softly he said, "I...I really had no idea I was hurting your feelings so much. I was just happy to be home. With my family. I was afraid I'd never see them in once piece again."

The lump in Harry's throat returned. "Well...I guess I was being a little insensitive to that. It's just your mother and father...we have a history."

Draco closed his eyes. "I know," he sighed. When he opened them again they were glossy, like ice thawing. "I'm sorry. I wish...they could warm to you better. I wish...a lot of things." Draco stepped closer. "Harry. I'm so lonely without you." His chin trembled. "Don't you believe that I love you? That I have always loved you?"

Harry closed the space between them, standing only inches from Draco. He felt his warmth, smelled his cologne. It filled his thoughts with pleasant memories and sensations. "Your father sent me a letter saying you'd given me up."

"Damn my father." Draco fell into his arms. They embraced, crushing each other tightly. Harry pulled back enough to plant a hard kiss to Draco's mouth. Draco greedily opened his lips, sucking Harry's tongue inside. They kissed for a long time, hands caressing, groping, grasping.

Finally, Draco pulled his mouth inches away from Harry's. "I don't care where you live. I mean it. I want to be with you. Please Harry. Take me back."

Harry leaned forward and kissed each word to Draco's lips. "Yes. Yes. Yes."

Harry had somehow loosened Draco's robes and pushed them off. They nearly tripped over them as they maneuvered toward the bed. His hands glided up under his shirt, pushing the turtle neck toward his head and yanking it off. That pale skin was right before him and he rubbed those pink nipples with his thumbs. "God I missed you!" he rasped.

"Harry...." Draco dipped his face to the juncture of Harry's neck and shoulder and closed his mouth over it, sucking and nibbling.

Harry tore at his shirt. Buttons snapped off and spun across the room. Finally he pulled it off and rubbed his chest against Draco's. His hands roamed down his lover's back and grasped his bum, squeezing. "Mine!"

"Absolutely yours!" Draco sighed.

Draco fell back on the bed. Harry wasted no time and dug at his belt, opening it and stripping off his trousers. Frustrated when they caught on his shoes, he pulled his wand and vanished the rest of Draco's clothes. Draco squeaked at the suddenness of it but didn't say anything.

Harry turned his wand on himself and completed his own disrobing. He used the lubing spell on Draco before he tossed the wand aside.

But Draco sat up on his elbows. "Wha-wait-You just-"

"Lubed you," said Harry, eyes shining. "Got any complaints?"

"You're going to shag me? I thought you were the bottom."

"Not any more, Malfoy. If you've got a problem with it-"

"No, no. No problem." He lay back and slowly opened his legs, giving Harry a delicious view of glistening arsehole and reddening balls.

"Oh...." Harry grabbed Draco's knees and opened them wider. "Do you need...preparation?" He was panting hard and not really listening to his own question.

Fortunately, Draco seemed attuned to this. "No," he gasped. "Just do me. Now."

Harry scooted up and leaned forward. His cock was more than ready to plunge into the blond. He didn't even aim with his hand. He just jutted his hips and found the spot, sinking his flesh within Draco. It was so marvelously tight. He pushed further, further, until he couldn't go any deeper. All the while, in the background, he heard a keening sound, which turned out to be Draco. His lover tossed his head from side to side on the bed, blond hair flailing out from his head, a stark contrast to the dark green duvet.

Harry looked down on the man's flushed skin and wide open legs. Draco reached down and grasped his own straining cock and squeezed it in his fist. Harry reckoned the view was just fine from where he was kneeling. He grasped Draco's hips and withdrew his cock and plunged in, repeating the action over and over again. He gripped Draco's thighs, pulling him flat against his pelvis with each hard thrust, hearing the slap of flesh on flesh.

Draco sped up his wanking. His eyes were closed but Harry wouldn't allow that. "Open your eyes, Draco. Look at me!"

Draco obeyed, and there was such love and lust in their depths that Harry could barely breathe. He slammed harder into Draco. His breath husked over his open lips, panting harder with each thrust. "I love you," he grunted. "I'll always love you."

"Harry, Harry...."

Harry cried out as his orgasm hit. It rumbled up from his balls and spent into his lover. Draco raised his hips into it, his hand pumping his own orgasm from his reddened cock. Harry, still in the throes, bent over and took Draco's mouth in a searing kiss, and the Slytherin responded, moaning into Harry's mouth.

As his the throbbing in his cock waned, warmth descended on his body, and Harry felt a deep lassitude overwhelm him. He pulled from Draco and lay atop him on the man's hot sweat and cooling cum, and welcomed the feel of skin on skin, his lover panting in his ear, and the occasional licks that lapped up the salt from the skin of his neck.

"Draco. I promise, love. I'll never leave again."

"And I won't give you any reason to."

"I was sure your father was breaking us up for good."

"He can't. He doesn't realize-he has no idea how very much I love you."

And Harry felt it that time. He knew Draco was telling the truth. His voice had quavered with the enormity of his emotions and Harry lapped it up, smiling into the blonde's shoulder. "We're just meant to be together," said Harry, feeling almost silly for saying it, but Draco drew back and looked at him. His hand came up and cupped Harry's face.

"We are meant to be together. If Voldemort can't break us apart, then how can my father do it? Love is the strongest magic. Right, Harry?"

Harry's heart was full to bursting. He smiled down on his lover. His soon-to-be husband. "Love is the strongest magic." And he sealed it with another tender kiss.


The End


A/N: And so we bring the Correspondence series to a close. Oh, I know we could have gone on and on, even with this particular story, but I was afraid of running out of too much steam. We ended the saga with letters just as we began it. Harry and Draco are together-as it should be. As Draco says, "Meant to be!"


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"Disintegration"

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