Winner Takes All

The warm chartreuse glow from lanterns illuminates Draco's and Harry's face as they merrily banter their way up to the main entrance of Malfoy Manor. As soon as they reach the porch, one of the double doors opens, and they spot Brownie waiting for them with a scowl on her face.

"You is really on the Mistress's wick this time, Master Draco," she warns, gesturing a weedy arm for them to hurry inside, shutting the door harder than necessary.

Draco sighs, his cheerful, carefree mood diminishing while thoughts of flitting away to a flat in London cross his mind. "I'm well up on how mother feels about me being punctual for dinner, but she needs to remember I'm now a grown man with responsibilities. As such, I need to see to an important item of business before I can join everyone. Harry, however—" Draco smiles mischievously "—can hold down the fort while I'm away."

Hating the idea of having to talk with Lucius and Narcissa without Draco present, Harry starts to object, "I don't—"

Chuckling, Draco cuts him off. "Not to worry, Harry. If topics of conversation get dull, I'm sure a certain someone's repartee will keep things interesting…"

Severus snorts in amusement, whereas Harry feels heat spread across his cheeks while he gives Draco a black look.

"You do want the credits as soon as possible, correct?" Draco lifts a brow.

Huffing out a breath, Harry nods his head firmly, acquiescing.

From a pocket, Draco hands Brownie the small leather bag he used to store all of his collected findings from Avery Manor.

"Brownie, see to these and forward them appropriately as needed. The Agendater needs a good polishing and tune-up with a skilled artificer before I'd trust it to serve me water, let alone hot tea."

"Yes, Master Draco."

"Good. And let mother know that I must speak with her before dinner is served. Where will it be held this evening?"

"Brownie will relay your message and ask the Mistress." She pops away, returning a few seconds later with a muffled crack.

"Mistress wants dinner to be a family affair. It is to be shared 'dans la salle à manger privée de la famille,'" Brownie says in her high, squeaky voice, pronouncing the French phrase with no discernable accent.

"Really?" Draco drawls out, an expression of surprise on his face.

Harry relaxes recognizing the French word for family. The only close relatives the Malfoys have left are Teddy and Andromeda, and visiting with them wasn't anything to worry over.

"Well then, I think we've swanned about enough for today." Draco spins on one foot to face the opposite corridor then, looking over his shoulder, adds, "I'll be in my office sorting out Severus's credits. Brownie will show you the way." With a fetching smile, he leaves, his long, pale hair and dark grey robes swaying behind him.

While fancying Draco's strong, confident stride, Harry notes the return of Severus's silent passiveness. Severus, are you sure you're feeling alright?

As fit as a blessed fiddle…the second one, Severus growls into a mutter, Harry incorrectly hearing the ending phrase, "second to none."

Right then, I wanted to be sure… It's just I've become accustomed to hearing your voice in my head, and I start to worry when you don't speak for a while. If you have need of anything, don't hesitate to let me know. I'll do what I can to help you.

Able to sense Harry's genuine care, Severus becomes flustered. The intensity of Harry's affection is like standing in the rays of a spotlight: blinding, confounding. Even though he prefers the dark, he can't help but bask in the attention. Harry's light makes everything that doesn't matter recede into the shadows, revealing what Severus truly wants. He playfully admonishes, Harry, you should know better than to make such promises… What if all I want is you?

Harry smiles at the return of Severus's brighter mood, amazed at how much he had grown to miss it in such a short amount of time. Not even Draco's company had been enough to fill the void completely. Then you only need ask. He impishly grins. I'm always open to negotiations… Is a ménage à trois still on the table?

Wanting to repeatedly bash his head against a flat surface, Severus sighs. I never thought I'd say this, but at times you are too much of a pernicious Slytherin for words.

Misconstruing Severus's exasperation, Harry sniggers as he watches Draco reach the end of the long corridor and turn a corner out of view. I understand… Draco's like a son to you. It's the same way for me with Ron; I think of him as a brother. The thought of shagging him turns my stomach. Grinning, Harry drawls, However, I've always been fascinated by Draco— He chuckles —even when we were younger and he was being a right spoiled brat.

I'm just glad that Draco being a closer cousin than previously known doesn't really change things. I remember when Neville brought Hannah Abbott, who's also his first cousin, as his date for Sunday dinner, not one Weasley had batted an eyelid. However, later on after a few bevvies, Hermione had guilelessly brought up the topics of endogamy, consanguinity, and genetics.

Severus snorts. Although Miss Granger is exceedingly clever, she never was the most tactful.

Harry laughs and nods his head in agreement. She always means well. At one point during the discussion, she suggested that, because the world's wizarding population is so small, the true purpose of the Triwizard Tournament might have been to provide opportunities for families to bring in fresh blood. She went on to jokingly say it might have also been a convoluted way of finding the most eligible witch or wizard…

Snape smirks as Harry continues to idly chatter away, likely an unconscious effort to delay the inevitable. Gathering what meager magic he has, he manages to lightly stroke Harry's cheek. Instantly Harry sends him a spark of power, causing both wizards to emit a soft moan. Harry…you shouldn't keep your hosts waiting much longer.

Harry moans again, this time accepting defeat. I know… Damn this detox, Severus. It has overtaken my libido. At times I feel beyond randy. If I don't keep my mind occupied or my hands busy, all I want to do is fuck… My cock has hardened and softened so many times today that I'm surprised I don't have a lump of tempered steel in my trousers. I feel like a coiled snake that, if not feed soon, will strike the first hot-blooded creature it sees. I'm really worried about ruining my newfound friendship with Draco by complicating things.

It's probably wise not to rush things with anyone so soon after your divorce, Severus slyly advises. And Draco already said he's only interested in liaisons of convenience until he wants to marry.

I know you're right. Harry huffs out a heavy sigh. But I still want him.

Bitterness overwhelms Severus. Then do as you wish, he sneers. Let's be off.

Disappointed in the sour turn of Severus's mood, Harry breathes out a long sigh and glances down.

Brownie, who sensed Harry had not merely been staring off into space, inquires, "Are you ready to depart, Master Harry."

Harry smiles and gives a nod.

Bidding him to follow close behind, Brownie starts towards an expansive flight of marble stairs that leads up to the first floor.

At the outset, the corridors they travel through are high, wide, and elaborate. But with every subsequent turn, the ceilings become lower and the walls more narrow and plain. However, the one thing they all have in common is that Harry has already visited them by way of his dreams through Nagini or Tom.

Deep within the maze of the manor, Brownie abruptly stops in front of a door Harry has never noticed before. She turns its silver knob and, unlike all the other doorknobs he's seen in the manor, it's emblazoned with the Malfoy coat of arms: a prominent M on a large shield, which is above the motto, Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. Purity Will Always Conquer. Once Brownie ushers him inside, she securely closes the door behind her.

Passing a silk chaise longue placed against a wall covered in hand-painted wallpaper, Harry realizes he has entered a well-appointed lavatory.

"Master Harry may use the toilet, if needed, and then Brownie will help with freshening up."

After he relieves himself and washes his hands, Harry smiles in gratitude when Brownie offers him a fresh, warm hand towel. He duly uses the soft piece of cloth before it vanishes with a swishing sound.

Brownie proceeds to simultaneously rid him of his five o'clock shadow, press his robes, shine his shoes, and brush his hair. Inspecting him with her overly large violet eyes, she adjusts the position of his wand scabbard and bobs her head in approval.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees a large framed mirror swing open and looks questioningly at Brownie. Ears flapping happily, she gives him a reassuring grin and motions for him to enter. "Bon Appétit, Master Harry."

Harry hesitates for a moment before taking a step. As soon as his foot crosses the threshold, intense pressure from powerful wards surrounds him, causing him to gasp. The magical barrier licks at his magical signature, testing him, delving deeper and deeper along the pathways of his magic with little resistance due to his damaged protections. Once it reaches Harry's core, Severus chokes back a cry of pain.

Clenching his hand, Harry places it over his heart where the soul-deep wrenching sensation is worst. He pushes forward against the invisible wall while desperately grabbing at the tendrils of Severus's spirit, trying to keep their fledgling connection from being torn apart. Fear fills Harry as he struggles, anger and then determination soon following behind. "No. He's mine," Harry grits out in a hiss, wrapping his soul protectively around Severus's.

Immediately after Harry declares his claim, the wards pause and then slowly disentangle from his magical core. He nearly falls to the floor when the magical obstruction allows him admittance into the arched-ceiling passageway.

Panting, Harry asks, "Severus?"

I'm fine, Snape retorts uncertainly, still coming to terms with Harry's earlier proclamation, unsure of what to make of it.

Relief hitting Harry hard, his eyes close. Reopening them a moment later, he smiles. "Serves you right for playing stowaway. The wards were only expecting a party of one; it seems."

Expelling a long exhale, Harry rights his robes and strides further into the corridor, studying his surroundings. What he finds causes his lips to part with wonder. Instead of priceless tapestries, paintings, or murals on the walls, he sees framed photos of the Malfoy family. Not the stiff cod happiness of staged portraits, but snapshots of real life.

In one, a young Draco giggles in glee as an older wizard—who from his appearance is likely Draco's grandfather, Abraxas—pretends to flee in terror from the same miniature dragon toy Harry saw Teddy playing with earlier. In another, Narcissa holds an infant in her arms, softly singing as she rocks in a rocking chair, smiling when she catches sight of the person taking her picture. Continuing to meander down the passageway, one photo has Harry especially grinning from ear to ear in appreciation, and he laughs out loud when he feels Severus's lusty fondness as well. They both watch the endless loop of Lucius in tight trousers, showing a rapt Draco how to mount a broom properly.

Harry hears the echoing sound of a throat being cleared and searches for its origin. A few steps away at the other end of the corridor, Lucius Malfoy stands, his usual stonelike, pale face turning a soft pink.

"Mr. Potter, are you quite through nosing about? Dinner is waiting to be served."

Harry reluctantly steps away from the enthralling photograph of Lucius's leather-clad rump and continues down the passage. "Sorry, it's just so fascinating seeing Malfoys acting so…normally."

"My, my, Mr. Potter, was that an actual apology? Have you finally learnt some manners?"—At Lucius's goading tone, Harry stops glancing at the moving pictures and locks eyes with the other wizard—"And for your information, there is no acting here. You are currently in our private living quarters: the one place Malfoys have been able to drop pretenses and be themselves. In this section of the manor, only close blood relatives of the Master's and Mistress's choosing are allowed admittance."

Harry reaches where Lucius stands, almost able to look the other man directly in the eyes. "So…my being here corroborates everything I said about my lineage?"

Lucius gazes at Harry and then lowly chortles like he's just heard the most rib-tickling punch line. From his robes, he pulls out a small object and shows it to Harry. It's one of the tokens Draco had found at Avery Manor, clearly displaying the Avery coat of arms. Not even trying to hide his wonder, Lucius whispers, "Harry Potter, a pureblood wizard who, from what I've heard, now dabbles in the Dark Arts."

Severus stirs in alarm at the covetousness in Lucius's voice and Harry's increasing sexual need.

Grinning like the cat that stole the cream, Harry softly says, "I've always been curious as to how your lips might feel—" Harry takes a long shaky breath and moves back a step "—but you're married." Nails digging into his palms, Harry shakes his head. "You're married to my aunt. Yet…I can't imagine myself ever addressing you as Uncle Anything. I've wanted you for too many years. Ever since I saw you sacrifice your dignity to save Draco, I went from loathing you to desiring you… I can't just shut off how I feel." The fantasy he had the previous morning after he brushed his teeth of him noshing on Lucius's cock and his recent dream with a bollock-naked Lucius chooses this moment to intrude upon his thoughts, not helping matters at all.

Lucius gapes at Harry's blunt admission.

Wistfulness and delight gleaming in his eyes, Harry smiles, closing Lucius's slack jaw with his forefinger. "Would you calling me Harry and me calling you Lucius be appropriate enough?"

Blue eyes looking more like hot flames rather than glacial ice, Lucius gives a perfunctory nod yes. "May I escort you inside…Harry."

Shivering in pleasure from hearing his name said with such tentative hunger, Harry silently reminds himself, He's my aunt's husband. But still unable help himself, he responds by huskily saying, "Yes, please…Lucius," causing the older wizard's pupils to expand.

When Lucius places his hand in the curve of Harry's lower back, Harry has to control the urge to syphon magic. As he's guided out of the passageway, the feel of Lucius's fingertips lightly touching the edge of his arse forces him to hold back a moan.

The space they enter is unexpectedly modest in both size and decor, very much like a French country cottage. The walls and coffered ceiling, plastered in a soft cream, and the silver candlesticks, topped with white candles, create a cozy relaxed atmosphere. On the left side of the room, Narcissa lounges with an open book on a classy, yet comfortable, settee. A fireplace cracks and pops with a pleasant heat, warming her feet. Pale azure, almost white, shelving displays family mementos and holds thick leather-bound photo albums.

And, on the other side of the room…awaits an unoccupied dining table that sits four, Andromeda and Teddy nowhere to be seen. Oh fuck, Harry thinks with dread while Snape darkly chuckles at his predicament.

Narcissa notices Lucius and Harry presence and quickly sits up, placing her book on a nearby Pembroke table. Rising elegantly to her feet, she beams and sweeps towards them. "Welcome, Harry."

"Hello, Aunt Cissa." Harry falteringly returns her smile; apprehension, affection and guilt over his less than honorable feelings towards her husband warring within his mind.

Clutching Harry's right hand with both of hers, Narcissa gently squeezes. "I'm sure you're famished." She gestures towards the table. "Please choose any seat; it doesn't matter which."

Harry, recalling Severus's grand escape from Hogwarts Great Hall and perhaps wanting to make one himself, strides towards the seat nearest to a bay window, which could only be there because of magic. He waits to sit down while Lucius assists Narcissa into the chair facing him. As the Malfoy Head of House, Lucius takes the seat to his left, bestowing him the place of honor.

Unfortunately for Harry, neither an ostentatious floral arrangement nor objects flaunting their wealth adorn the small but well-polished table, permitting Narcissa and Lucius—especially Lucius—an unobstructed view to eye their guest.

Looking down at his informal three-course table setting, allowing his long hair to hide his flushed cheeks, Harry pretends to study the white cloth napkin folded into the shape of a peacock.

"Harry," Narcissa smoothly says, ending the uncomfortable silence and forcing Harry to glance up. "I heard the wonderful news that you were able to enter Avery Manor. While we wait for Draco, why don't you tell us more about it?"

Brightly smiling in appreciation, Harry does so, beginning with Draco's impromptu flying lesson. Many minutes pass by with them genially conversing until, during a pause, Narcissa interjects, "Whatever could be taking Draco so long?" Glancing behind her to confirm Draco hadn't entered, she calls aloud, "Brownie."

Before Narcissa starts to inhale her next breath, the house-elf appears. "Yes, Mistress."

"Where is Draco? Is he on his way?"

Yanking at her ears, Brownie shakes her head. "No, Mistress. Brownie is still waiting for Master Draco to leave his office."

Breathing deeply, Narcissa purses her lips. "Very well. I'll not have our guest wait any longer. Begin the dinner service."

"Master Draco said—"

"If it were so important, he should have seen me first. I'll not postpone dinner a second longer."

"Yes, Mistress." With a forlorn expression, Brownie Disapparates with a soft snap.

Narcissa unfolds and then lays her napkin across her lap, Harry and Lucius following suit. A second later, a basket piled with freshly baked bread materializes in the middle of the table, as well as bowls of soup on their dinner plates and a semi-opaque Amontillado in their wine glasses.

Harry awkwardly ignores the amber liquid as Lucius and Narcissa take their glasses, instead reaching for his water glass. After a cool sip, he inhales the rich and sweet nutty scent of his soup, humming with delight.

As Narcissa selects a piece of crusty bread, she explains, "With only three courses, this evening's dinner will be a simple affair, but each dish is a personal favorite, starting with mine. What you have before you is chestnut soup with a dollop of unsweetened whipped cream. This soup is one of my earliest memories. The first time I ate this dish was in Barcelona while on a holiday with my father and sisters. I don't know why, but mother had remained in London." A faraway expression brimming with longing appears on her face. "It was a very happy time… Whenever I have this soup, it reminds me of my father's booming laughter." Picking up her spoon, she encouragingly smiles. "Please enjoy."

Very moved, Harry thickly says, "I'm beyond honored that you would share something so close to your heart. Thank you, Aunt Cissa." Under her expectant eye, he sips a spoonful and closes his eyes in bliss, savoring the creamy depth of flavor. The warm soup eases any remaining nervousness Harry has and, with a relaxed open smile, he proclaims, "It's delicious."

Her eyes crinkling with joy, Narcissa tucks into her own bowl. In between swallows, she shares more Black family stories: how all the sisters during summer holidays would leave early in the morning and fly on brooms to Barafundle Beach to watch the sunrise, how Sirius accidentally performed underage magic when he was six, which caused Bellatrix to go bald and have to wear an itchy wig for an entire week, and how her father secretly—yet not so secretly—trailed after her and Lucius during their first date in Hogsmeade.

All the while as Narcissa speaks, Harry's glances at Lucius's mouth grow longer as the older wizard slides his spoon in and out from between his lips. Severus interrupts Harry's most recent dark, lusty fantasy by giving him a mental slap. Narcissa asked you a question.

Ripping his eyes away from Lucius, Harry mumbles, "Hmmm… What was that Aunt Cissa?"

"I said, 'Are you ready for the second course?'"

Harry looks down to find his soup bowl empty. Quickly turning red, he sets down his spoon. "Yes…that would be brilliant."

Misreading Harry's wandering mind, Narcissa responds, "I, too, have been preoccupied with what Draco has been up to." Lucius's full lips curl with amusement when Harry nods in agreement.

"I believe I will go check on him myself." Narcissa stands, setting her napkin down on the cushion of her seat. Both Lucius and Harry rise as well out of courtesy. "No, no, please return to your seats." She waits until they comply to speak again. "The next course is Lucius's favorite, and it would be best for him to stay and tell you more about it, Harry."

Eyes darting to Lucius and back to Narcissa, Harry scrambles to recommend, "C-Couldn't Brownie go check instead?"

"No, Draco's office and adjoining laboratory are under the aegis of Gringotts, which prevents even house-elves from entering. However, as the mistress of this manor, I can." Smiling superiorly, Narcissa narrows her eyes with purpose. "I'll return shortly."

When the door clicks shut behind Narcissa, Harry doesn't know whether he should moan in despair or crow for joy.

"Harry?" Lucius's honeyed voice wraps around the younger wizard's body like constricting straps of silk.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry refocuses on Lucius's regal face.

"Do you eat lamb?"

Harry frowns in confusion. "What?"

Picking up his dinner fork and knife, Lucius motions at his plate. "Lamb."

Glimpsing down at his own plate, Harry realizes the main course had been served.

"Oh! Yes… Mum, I mean Mrs. Weasley, made it regularly but usually in a stew or cottage pie…never like this." Looking down, Harry admires the dragon-sized lamb chop resting on a bed of braised red cabbage; golden-brown, roasted potato slices, formed into small rose blossoms, positioned around it artfully. "This is your favorite dish?"

"Yes." Lucius motions for Harry to start. He then cuts off a slice of meat, places it in his mouth, and slowly chews, momentarily closing his eyes in pleasure. "However, in my youth, it was cooked on a spit over an open fire. Malfoys for generations have spent most of their leisure time outdoors: hunting, playing Quidditch, riding winged horses. My father used to say that my mother's heart lived in the gardens and not inside our home" —He stiffly smiles, covering up past pain— "She and my older brother Gaius died when I was eight years old."

Complete surprise floods Harry at hearing Lucius had a brother, and he lowers what would have been his first forkful. Sorrow surges into Harry's heart, imagining what it would be like to lose Ron. "I'm sorry."

Lips tightening after another bite, Lucius gives a nod of thanks before swallowing. "My brother wanted to go on a one-month grand world tour before he began Hogwarts. I decided to stay behind with father so I could continue to learn how to ride my birthday gift, a gray and black-spotted male granian that I had named Merlin. It was a fitting moniker since he shared the same feathering as a small species of falcon found in this region known by the same name, and because he was quite the spirited steed. Although he could have out flown a Peruvian Vipertooth, he was extremely stubborn and tended to make his handlers exclaim the oath more often than not.

"The last meal my family had shared was after a long leisurely ride over the countryside. As our horses grazed freely, I remember how the lamb smelt, roasting over a fire of apple wood logs, the earthy freshness of the nearby vegetable garden. How the summer breeze felt as my brother and I play dueled and my parents conspiratorially whispered into each other's ear… Later that evening, my mother and Gaius left and, a few days later, they were killed in a Muggle war between India and China. Muggles call it the Sino-Indian War."

"Is that why—"

"Why I despise Muggles?" Lucius lifts an eyebrow.

Harry nods and finally takes his first bite, which included a bit of everything off his plate. As he chews, his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he gives an appreciative moan.

Grinning at Harry's response, Lucius shakes his head. "No. But it solidified my hatred. Now, however, I feel it less so. Make no mistake, I still consider Muggles inferior; however, having participated in a war myself, I've learned innocents always get caught in the crossfire…"

With every bite and swallow of his food, Harry leans in closer to Lucius, letting the older wizard do most of the talking. The rousing cadence of Lucius's voice enthralls him, and he soon finds himself rubbing his foot against Lucius's leg, his touch causing Lucius to pause mid-sentence.

"Harry?" Lucius asks uncertainly.

The last shred of Harry's control breaks. He hears Severus's voice, but it sounds far away. And it doesn't matter; what Harry needs is sitting right next to him. Harry yanks Lucius towards him by the shirt and kisses the other wizard hard.

Lucius utensils clatter onto the table. His eyes widen with shock and become even wider when Harry leaps from his seat, pushes Lucius's chair back to straddle his lap. Fingers flared out, hands shaking with indecision at his sides, Lucius moans as Harry gyrates against his growing erection. A trickle of magic as potent as the Dark Lord's nudges his own, and Lucius, shivering with desire, drops his defenses, burying his hands into Harry's long hair. Harry and Severus gasp from the sudden influx of Lucius's magic tinged with the addictive taste of darkness.

And that's the scene Draco finds as he steps into the dining room. "Not the family affair I was expecting," he utters to himself, an expression of disgusted fascination on his face. Having watched enough, Draco shouts, "Father!"

Hearing and then seeing his son, Lucius hastily attempts to remove Harry from his lap.

To lure Lucius back, Harry begins returning magic, now imbued with his own heady magical signature. Lucius shudders in ecstasy, growing nearer to physical completion.

"Lucius! Harry!" Narcissa's exclamation from behind Draco hits the two embracing wizards like the surface of the English Channel during the coldest day in January.

Harry staggers off, unsteadily plopping back into his own seat, almost tumbling over the side. "I-I'm sorry… I-I don't…" He covers his face with trembling hands, muttering a shedload of apologies while Lucius stares at him dumbfounded.

"Mother…I see you began dinner without me. There was a very important reason why I needed to speak with you."

"Was it that I should worry about my husband taking up with my nephew?"

Draco snorts at his mother's wry tone. "Do you remember Madam Mortcombe's little problem and how it was remedied?"

"Madam Mortcombe..." Narcissa takes in a slow, deep breath in understanding.

"How much do you think?" Draco asks, cocking his head to the side, sauntering towards the dining table.

Following after her son, Narcissa answers, "The soup had a smidgen of dry Sherry added, but the real worry is the cabbage, which included a good helping of Pinot Noir in its preparation."

Draco reaches Harry's side and, crouching down, lightly places a palm on the distressed wizard's knee. "Harry," he gently prods.

Harry lowers his hands from his flushed face. "Draco?"

"It's alright, Harry; no one's upset with you. There were traces of alcohol in your food, which reacted with the detox potion in your system, greatly decreasing your inhibitions." Taking hold of Harry's hand, Draco rises and encourages Harry to stand. "I'll show you to one of the guest bedrooms where you can rest and let the remaining effects wear off."

With come-hither eyes, Harry coquettishly grins. "Bedroom?"

Draco snorts and playfully says, "Come along, you randy-arsed oik."

Harry leans forward and nuzzles Draco's neck. "Want you…"

Feeling his cock starting to stir, Draco bites his bottom lip to save himself from the embarrassment of moaning in front of his parents.

"Draco, do you need—"

"Lucius," Narcissa's razor-sharp voice interrupts, "I'm sure Draco can handle things on his own."

"Of course." Lucius looks away, all expression absent from his face.

Draco securely wraps an arm around Harry's waist. He braces Harry against his body and leads the amorous wizard, who cunningly gropes at his arse underneath his robes, out of the room and into a wood-paneled corridor.

When Harry's hand breaches the waistband of his trousers and touches the warm skin of his bum, Draco almost trips. "Harry…" Draco pleads, stopping in the middle of the long passage.

Harry dissolves into closed-mouth, snorting laughter and manages to says, "No pants."

"Find that funny do you?" Draco asks, successfully urging Harry forward.

"Me too."

"You too, what?"

"No pants."

Draco grits his teeth and groans. "You're testing my limits, Harry. I'm sure Severus has been yelling up a storm about protecting your virtue."

"No," Harry morosely answers. "Quiet again… Miss him."

Humming in thought, Draco wonders if Severus's silence means he's admitted defeat. "Here we are." Halting, he turns a knob and pushes open a door with the sole of his right foot.

Harry ignores the opulent bedroom and instead focuses on Draco's face. "You're beautiful. You've always been so beautiful."

His face coloring, Draco clears his throat. "Thank…you." Guiding Harry further into the room, passing a sitting area, he heads towards the mammoth four-poster bed located on the left-hand side of the chamber. "The loo's through those doors by the window over there." Draco indicates where, pointing with his free hand.

Even though Harry is slightly shorter than Draco, Harry's body outweighs the other wizard's in pure muscle. And so, once they reach the bed, Harry easily manhandles Draco over, causing him to land on his back with a puff of air. One of Harry's knees settles high between Draco's legs, and Draco's arms are pinned against the feather-stuffed duvet on either side of his body.

At this point, Draco's in a bit of a dilemma. Harry is pissed as a newt, but…technically, he's also the one acting as the instigator…

Draco groans because of his irritating conscious. "Harry…I wouldn't mind this," he begins, "but right now, you're not all here and—"

Captivated by Draco's mouth, Harry licks his lips a second before crushing them against Draco.

His body going lax, Draco moans into the kiss. Harry's tongue slips through Draco's lips, stroking the smooth grooves inside. As magic begins to spill from Draco and into Harry, strengthening him and Severus, Harry urgently tugs at Draco's zip, years of curiosity, years of lust, culminating in this moment.

Draco's back bows when he feels Harry's hot hand encircling his length. "Oh, Merlin…" he whimpers, Harry's unrestrained magic caressing him, cajoling him, raising the hair on his body. With the first stroke of Harry's hand, power slams into Harry and Severus, causing both to curse loudly.

Gazing at Draco beneath him, Harry increases the speed he pumps Draco's cock, reveling in the slick, wet sounds of his foreskin sliding over his glans. Draco writhes from side to side, toes twitching as he reaches the cusp of orgasm.

"Ah, fuck, Harry! I'm going to…I'm going to…" Harry's hold loosens, and he moves off to the side—but it's too late. Ropes of come shoot into the air, landing in glossy lines across Draco's dark trousers. He clenches the material of the duvet in both hands, screaming out his pleasure.

With his last spurt, Draco lets his body sink into the bed. He takes a moment to enjoy his post-orgasmic stupor before he apologizes to silence. "Harry?" Draco turns to see him passed out, peacefully slumbering away. For a moment he can only stare with incredulity, before he cracks a smile and laughs out loud. "Figures."

After cleaning himself off and zipping his flies, Draco cuddles close to Harry and sighs with both contentment and tiredness, the fatigue from his large transference of magic to Harry hitting him. Looking fondly at Harry's unconscious form, he snorts. "You're still a top-drawer git," he mumbles before falling asleep, breathing in the spicy floral scent of Harry's cologne.

Harry pops up into a sitting position, grimacing from the painful press of his arousal against his trousers. Scanning his surroundings, he determines he's still on the bed in the guest room that Draco— Draco. Moaning with mortification at what had happened, Harry flops back down, covering his face with an arm when he also recalls how he had mauled Lucius. Everything that had occurred after his first sip of alcohol-laced soup is woolly, sharp edges softened, sounds muffled, but not one moment has been forgotten.

After inhaling a deep breath and letting it whoosh out, Harry sits back up searching for Draco. In the sitting area, he finds Severus seated, coldly watching him.

"Have you officially decided to change your vocation from Auror to bumboy?" Severus mockingly asks.

Standing up, Harry stalks over, anger rising. "What's gotten on your tits, Snape? You've been a moody arse all day."

Severus refuses to answer, only arching a thick brow, increasing Harry's frustration.

Harry grinds his teeth and growls. "I can't help what I did. I wasn't thinking str—"

"Yes, I know precisely what you were thinking," Severus snaps, eyes narrowing.

A wash of emotion from Snape swamps Harry and, finally, he recognizes what exactly Severus has been feeling. "Wait… You're…jealous—"

Nostrils flaring, Severus jolts to his feet, chest to chest with Harry, and hisses, "Don't be ridiculous."

"No, you are. I can feel it," Harry states with amazement. "Before I thought it was only annoyance, but now I can tell the subtle difference… You've been jealous."

Severus's black eyes bore into Harry's and, instead of responding with words, his right hand reaches out to clutch Harry's hard-on, gently rubbing it through his trousers.

Head lolling back, a rightness, which had been missing with both Lucius and Draco, courses through Harry. His soul sighs; his legs shake, and he's saved from banging his knees onto the floor by Snape catching him. As Severus holds Harry up with his left arm, he deftly slides down Harry's zip, freeing his erection.

For the first time, the strong grip of another man's hand caresses his cock, skin directly on skin. As a throaty moan reverberates in his chest, Harry wraps his arms around Severus's neck, thrusting his hips to increase the pace.

Past worries, fears, and doubts ebb away, and Harry just feels. The friction of Severus's flesh stroking him. The warmth from Severus's body and peppery magical power against his own. The ticklish strands of Severus's hair on his cheek. But what he feels is more than purely physical. It's tenderness. It's possession, almost to the point of devotion. It's— Harry gutturally screams his release, his come coating Severus's palm and dripping to the floor. With Harry's climax, there isn't a one-sided exchange of magic. Instead their magic dances between them, strengthening their bond.

From Harry, Severus feels a spark of something that he's never allowed himself to accept; something he gave up the hope of ever having for himself and, cock spurting, he joins Harry in absolute bliss.

Softly spoken conversation and laughter linger in Harry's mind as he squints open an eye. Through his hair, he catches sight of the angled shadow of his bed made by the creeping sunrise.

With his increased level of magic, Severus moves the hair obstructing Harry's view. Good morning.

Smiling, Harry hoarsely responds, "Good morning."

"Good morning," echoes from behind Harry. "I'm glad you're awake."

Harry flips over and, from the bathroom, sees Draco striding towards him wearing a silk, black-and-green-striped dressing gown. As he walks, glimpses of his long, bare legs peek through from between the fabric. His hair is still damp and disheveled from bathing, and his skin flushed from the hot water. He's delectable.

"I never had the opportunity to tell you before you jumped me like nundu in heat" —Draco removes his dressing gown, tossing it on top of the bed, and picks up a clean mint green shirt laid out—"that Severus's credits were transferred to you."

Tearing his eyes away from Draco's lower region, Harry stammers, "T-That's…great."

Draco pauses from buttoning his shirt and says with sarcasm, "Don't knock me over with your graciousness, Harry." He grins and begins to climb onto the duvet. "But I guess I should be thanking you…for last night."

"Uh…" —Harry scurries off the other side of the bed— "yeah… about that…

Crawling across after Harry, Draco hums with interest.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't want you, but—"

Standing so close that Harry can feel his breath, Draco leans in and whispers, "Then don't lie to yourself," and seals their lips.

Severus seethes. He remembers Lily. How he chose not to act and lost her to another. Lost his chance at happiness, at love. Never again.

Draco is shoved aside a few stumbling steps. A second later, Severus fully materializes and, without havering over his decision, he cups Harry's face and gently kisses his lips.

Harry arms hang loosely at his sides for a moment before they drift up to encircle Snape's torso. The kiss isn't fervent but sweet, a first real kiss.

Draco's eyebrows slowly rise with consternation as the kiss turns passionate. Severus opens his eyes and stares fixedly at him. Huffing out a breath, Draco grins and gives a nod, accepting the other's man's claim.

Eyes burning with triumph, Severus releases Harry's face, admiring his kiss-swollen lips and half-lidded eyes before fading away. You're mine, Harry Potter. Harry touches his sensitive lips and smiles.

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