Reckless

Disclaimer: Do I look like one of the most famous authors in the world?

A/N - This story is a companion piece to my one-shot The Second Shadow, though it can be read alone. It's written as a birthday gift for I am the Color of Boom, and it's over a week late because I suck at remembering dates, lol. Hope it was worth the wait anyway! Happy birthday Siri! :)

Draco Malfoy was angry.

No, that wasn't right. He wasn't angry; angry was an understatement. Draco was pissed. He paced back and forth in the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place, his arms folded tightly behind his back, his grey eyes hard as flint and his lips pressed together in a displeased line. His usually perfectly styled hair was standing up at odd angles, mussed from the number of times he'd run his hands through it. Around him, the dark, thoroughly tainted house moaned its own displeasure, and from the kitchen in the basement, a house-elf driven mad by deceased masters and the dark magic infused in the woodwork of the manor he'd served his entire life, glared up at the ceiling, muttering about blood-traitors and how ashamed his mistress would be if she knew that one of the most ancient and noble houses had sunk so low.

Draco ignored the scratchy voice that defied logic and carried up two flights of stairs. He ignored anything that didn't have to do with waiting. And hoping, though he refused to acknowledge that. The supposedly secret Weasley wedding had been infiltrated earlier that day and the moronically nicknamed 'Golden Trio' had barely escaped with their lives.

It was the fact that they'd escaped; run; gone off by themselves, that was pissing Draco off.

Not a word. Not one single fucking word. Potter had numerous people willing to help him, willing to lay down their lives for him, and he got it in his head to put himself in unimaginable danger and run off to work on some secret task Dumbledore had set him by himself. Yes, he was with Granger and Weasley, but Granger and Weasley didn't count. Not in Draco's mind. Both were Gryffindors and both were as reckless as Potter was, despite Granger having a promising amount of intellect. They were out in the world somewhere, on their own, every Death Eater in the country after them, and Draco was absolutely fucking furious.

There were plans in place for this sort of thing, for Merlin's sake! Draco had known that Potter and his two idiotic friends had been planning something, but he hadn't thought they'd actually be stupid enough to go through with whatever it'd been! Now the Order had no clue where they were, and Draco was reduced to pacing off his anger in this foreboding house, in the vain hope that they just might have enough brain cells between them to come to a place that was fully warded and secured under a Fidelius charm.

His heart thumped loudly as he paced, his thoughts churning and making his agitation swell. He was taking a risk being there. A major fucking risk. His family would murder him if they knew; hell, the Order would murder him if they knew. He hadn't thought to tell them or anyone when he'd found out second-hand through Snape that the wedding had been attacked and the trio had run off to parts unknown. He'd just apparated, emotions he didn't want to name twisting in his chest, instinctively going to the place he would've gone if it'd been him.

But it's not you, is it? a sly voice whispered in his mind. Draco sneered and turned to pace back towards the door. It's Granger and Weasley and it's Potter. It's Harry fucking Potter. The bloody living embodiment of red and gold.

Abruptly changing direction, he stalked over to the wet bar and uncorked a dusty bottle his cousin had left behind, pouring himself two fingers of Ogden's finest with hands that shook. He threw the firewhiskey back and hissed as it went down, the burningly smooth liquid doing nothing but highlight the uncomfortable knots in his stomach. The crystal clinked musically as it tumbled back onto the bar, and then a blond head lowered, the young man's arms rigid as he gripped the wood and leant against it, sucking in deep breaths to try to loosen his ridiculously tight chest.

Mother of Merlin, he didn't even know if they'd gotten away properly! What if he was hurt? What if the day Dumbledore died turned out to be the last time he ever saw him-

Crack!

The wards trembled then folded back into place again, Kreacher began to mutter louder, and Walburga Black's screams about mudbloods and blood-traitors suddenly began to shriek through the house. Draco's head whipped towards the door and his heart boomed against his ribcage once, twice… and then a voice he'd recognize out of thousands filtered up the stairs and into the room.

"This is the safest place, at least until we figure out where to go from here."

Granger spoke in answer, but Draco wasn't interested in what she was saying. Relief was making his legs weak and wobbly, which he combated by embracing the anger and disbelief. He bared his teeth and sucked in a fortifying breath, then stood up straight, cold grey eyes trained on the door. His hands were once again laced behind his back as the screaming portrait was abruptly silenced, multiple footsteps thundered up the stairs and approached the room and the door handle was pushed down.

"This is as good a home base as any-"

Draco tipped a mocking brow when he suddenly found three wands pointed at his face. "You three know nothing about stealth," he drawled, face set, fury effervescent under his skin. Immediately one wand lowered, the other two following slowly after a significant pause.

"Draco! You prat, we could've hexed you! What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Potter."

Green eyes sharpened and narrowed just a bit, and closest to the door, brown eyes widened in comprehension. Suddenly Hermione Granger began tugging on Ron Weasley's arm.

"We'll just… um, go check the rest of the house," she said, sounding a little awkward. She pulled hard on the redhead, hissing in his ear when he fell back on a long held habit and scowled suspiciously at Draco. The boy grumbled a little but allowed the girl to drag him out the door, and soon the room was empty but for two wizards, one who was watching the other warily, and the other hiding how completely he was failing to hold his temper behind a mask of indifference.

"What are you doing here, Draco?" Harry Potter asked for the second time, his voice quiet. The Slytherin's jaw clenched at the tone and he turned and strode back over to the bar to pour himself another drink, throwing it back as quickly as the first, hoping that the burn would curb the urge to shout. Since it didn't, he poured another, this time sipping it slowly and staring at the empty grate at the end of the room, deliberately not looking at his… schoolmate? Fellow Order member? Friend? No, not that.

Would be lover?

With a sullen grimace at the thought, he took another sip and swirled it around in his mouth, still ignoring the wizard behind him. Draco had no idea what Harry Potter was to him. They weren't rivals in anything but on the Quidditch pitch, despite what he led the school to believe. Draco's family was on the Order's side, but Potter hadn't officially found that out until the summer before sixth year, and while Draco had kept up appearances in his common room, he'd used the excuse of 'maturing' to not taunt Potter in the hallways. They were… were they friendly outside Hogwarts? Draco didn't know. They interacted when they had to and even more than that; more than was wise, but they certainly weren't friends. Nevertheless, there was something between them; something that had developed from a single kiss in fifth year when Potter had gotten sick and Draco had ignored the voice calling him foolish and overly emotional and had gone to check on him in the Hospital Wing in the middle of the night.

Nothing had happened since then. There was a war going on and it would've been beyond stupid to get involved with the destined hero when, to the rest of the world, he was on the Dark Lord's side. He knew there was tension between them as a result. An unresolved undercurrent that twanged whenever they were around each other. Draco did his best to ignore it, which wasn't easy when the Order told him to 'keep an eye on Harry', and Potter himself wouldn't know subtle if it smacked him in the face.

Those green eyes constantly watching him had quite often followed him into his dreams.

Like you're any better.

"Draco?"

They were too close. Draco stared into the grate that hadn't seen a floo connection, let alone a fire in a year. Not together, not friends, not even bloody friendly, but still too fucking close. His anger simmered and he imagined what Potter would do if he grabbed him and physically forced him through that now-never-used grate, to an Order safe house, back into the clutches of witches and wizards who thought past reckless heroics and actually relied on others-

"You're giving me the silent treatment? Merlin, Malfoy, I knew you had feminine tendencies, but this is taking it to the next level."

The joke fell utterly flat. And it was the fact that the Gryffindor was treating the situation so lightly – a situation that he clearly already understood – that had Draco purposefully turning back to look at him. His face was stone as he silently studied the raven-haired wizard over the top of his nearly empty tumbler.

Potter's gaze was steady, a hint of a cautious smile on his lips. But Draco had made a study of those eyes over the years, so could easily recognize the embers of defiance buried in his expression. Yes, he knew why Draco was there all right.

"You should not be doing this," the blond said slowly, annunciating as if picking apart the sentence to understand its meaning. The tumbler swung from side to side between his thumb and pointer finger, the wizard holding it leaning his body against the rickety old piano, one leg crossed over the other. He glanced down into the glass and gave it a swirl. Twisted in his gut, the fury copied his actions, burning his insides in a way that was both unpleasant and satisfying. "You'll get yourself killed, and then where will we be?"

The embers of defiance grew. Draco hadn't expected any less.

"Dumbledore gave me a job to do," Potter said, his arms folding across his chest, his jaw jutting out stubbornly. Draco regarded him with pursed lips and falsely calm eyes. The fact that Potter looked wonderfully fit even in crumbled, stained clothing had him fuming all the more. A nerve began to jump in his jaw.

"Professor Dumbledore was a senile old fool who enjoyed letting a child do his dirty work for him," he said in a tone that was aiming for lazy but fell far wide of the mark. Astonishment flickered across Potter's face before insult jumped in his eyes. His hands fell to clench at his sides and he took a step closer.

"He was not senile, nor was he a fool!" he retorted angrily. "And I'm not a child! I'm seventeen!"

"So am I, but you don't see me running off to take on the Dark Lord on my own!" Draco shot back, all thoughts of hiding what he was feeling gone as Potter's anger finally lit his own. "You've let this fucking saviour shite go to your head! You can't win this alone!"

"What the bloody hell makes you think I'm alone? I'm never goddamn alone, even when I want to be!" Potter's laugh was a little hysterical and a hand speared through his hair. He turned to pace over towards the two antique sofas by the empty fire, then turned back, his arms once more tightly across his chest. As if hugging himself. "I know I have you lot behind me, but it's me who has to do this, Draco! It's me! No one else! How many people will die if I hide behind the Order and let them fight a fight that's rightfully mine?"

"So you fucking die instead?" Draco hissed, whipping around to face him. The forgotten tumbler hit the top of the piano with a hollow, echoing clunk and fell over, rolling across the dirty wood, the last of the whiskey mixing with the dust. "How is that winning, you dim-witted twit? You need to stop thinking like a fucking Gryffindor and start thinking like a soldier, otherwise this war will never fucking end!"

The brunette wizard threw up his hands in exasperation. "How is the Chosen One a soldier, Draco?" he demanded, eyes alight with irritation. "If anything, I'm a General, not a bloody solider! And why are you here, trying to stop me, and not someone else, eh? This seems like a rather individual action for someone who's content to sit back and follow others once the decisions have been made!"

"I'm here," Draco snarled, slowly stalking towards the other boy, "because everyone else seems to think you're more than fucking capable of doing this on your own, never mind that you're reckless, immature, unorganized, have no fucking clue what you're doing, and think you're smarter that the entire Order put together! I'm the only one who thinks of you as a teenager rather than a larger than life leader who will take down the Dark Lord with one bloody hand tied behind your back!"

"That's the second time you've called me a child! I'm not a child!" Harry exploded, voice ringing off the walls. He tugged at his hair in frustration, rubbing at his eyes and dragging his fingers down his cheeks. "How can you think so little of me? I thought… you know what? Never mind. You need to leave, and don't even think of telling anyone where we are."

"I'm not going anywhere unless you're with me!"

"Fine then, stay here and we'll go." He turned away from the blond and headed for the door, stopping very abruptly when Draco moved in his way and a hand grasped his elbow. He tried to remove his arm and frowned when he couldn't break the wizard's hold. "Let go of me, Malfoy."

"Merlin above, Potter, why are you so fucking stubborn?"

"Let me go."

"I'm trying to keep you alive, you idiot!" the Slytherin hissed, hand squeezing until his knuckles turned white. He stepped closer, the anger rushing, whooshing in his ears, making his heart slam.

"Let. Me. Go."

"Do you want to die?"

"Let me go!"

"No!"

And then he was grabbing Harry by the ears and yanking him forward, that single word pouring through him, the ever-present undercurrent sparking and flashing and igniting in a rough, desperate meeting of mouths. Harry jerked a little in surprise and then groaned, his eyes fluttering closed, his hands springing up to clutch at Draco's shirt just as strongly as Draco's were clutching at him. He pressed forward in eager acceptance and opened his mouth, and at the first touch of his tongue, Draco's head spun gloriously, fire burning through his veins.

It was the same as fifth year. Yet it wasn't. It was familiar and it was more, and it was drugging and intense and it just felt so fucking right. He pushed his lips harder against Harry's, sliding his tongue along the other boy's, relishing the moan from the Gryffindor as Harry returned the kiss fervently. Needing to be closer still, he impatiently closed whatever distance there was left between them, and Harry stumbled back as the movement caught him off guard, the backs of his legs hitting one of the sofas. They broke apart, faces flushed, chests moving with their rapid breathing. Harry's glasses were crooked and the green behind was almost unrecognizable, his eyes was so dark.

He was the hottest thing Draco had ever seen.

He wasn't sure who made the first move this time. They reached for each other, clashing together, the force bending Harry at the knees, the forward motion bending Harry back. Lips separated again when they folded over the arm of the sofa, Draco landing on top of Harry, both boys wearing expressions of surprise. Draco blinked and stared down into Harry's eyes, feeling the body beneath him tremble, and after a moment or two he reached out with slow, measured movements to remove the glasses now nearly hanging off the brunette's ear, neatly closing them and placing them carefully on the floor.

He waited for Harry to stop him. Harry didn't. His incredulity only slowed him down for a second before Draco pulled his legs over the arm and straddled the other wizard, both of them groaning when hardness pressed into hardness. Draco ground down, lips parting, eyes half-lidded and still connected with Harry's. He watched Harry's head arch back as he thrust up to meet Draco's circling pelvis.

"Fuck," he whimpered, hands scrambling against the cushion beneath him. "Oh God. Draco, a-ah, that feels… keep doing… s-shit…"

"Like that, do you?" Draco panted, leaning forward and latching his teeth onto the bared neck. "Like my cock against yours, Potter?"

"Draco…"

"You won't… fuck Harry… ah, y-you won't get it if you leave."

Harry's groan was strangled and he suddenly sat up, dislodging the blond and capturing his mouth. He pulled himself backwards so that he was completely on the sofa and reached for the buttons of Draco's shirt, cursing against Draco's lips when they stayed stubbornly done up. The Slytherin let out a breathless chuckle, his fingers hurrying to help him. When his shirt and undershirt were gone, Draco grasped the bottom of Harry's sweatshirt, smirking when removing it mussed up his already wild hair, and then they were kissing again, fingers exploring warm skin. Draco hissed and broke away to bury his face in Harry's shoulder when the dark-haired wizard thumbed his nipples.

"That's good," he breathed, hips shifting, seeking. Harry hummed. His fingers tweaked a final time, then aimed further south, dancing along the fastening of Draco's slacks. Draco's hands spasmed on the Gryffindor's sides and he pulled back to meet that deep green gaze, expression questioning.

His arousal spiked when all he saw in that gaze was willingness and heat. So, with a slowly growing smirk, he got off the sofa, standing in front of the sprawled out boy, Harry watching him with parted lips and hot eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his lips when Draco toed off his shoes and slipped the button of his slacks out of its loop before drawing the zipper down. Draco's head cocked, studying Harry closely, still smirking, as he dipped his fingers into the opening and pushed down the material.

Green eyes widened, fixed on the blond's tight black boxer briefs, where his erection was clearly visible. Draco's smirk grew. He gave Harry a moment or two to just look before he stepped forward to undo the Gryffindor's jeans. Dexterous fingers traced the outline of Harry's length as they tugged at the zipper. The boy gasped and arched up into his hand, and Draco's heart hammered. He was still in a state of shock that this was actually happening; that the Golden Boy, Saint Potter was going to let him… was going to let him…

Harry was going to let him.

Playfulness forgotten, Draco gripped handfuls of the wizard's jeans and yanked them down, stopping only long enough to pull off his shoes before eagerly reaching for his boxers and dragging them down as well. He tugged all clothing from the Gryffindor's body and then stared in awe at the sight before him, a yearning crawling and digging under his breastbone, making him itch and shiver and want to reach, to touch.

To feel Harry's mouth on his.

"Draco?"

His name was rough. Husky. The dark-haired wizard was fully aroused, his body flushed, his already slick erection standing proudly, and when he spoke Draco's name like a plea, one leg bending and finding purchase on the cushion under him, the Slytherin groaned aloud and lunged forward. Their lips met in a kiss that blew the top of Draco's head off, twin sounds of eagerness and satisfaction surrounding them when Draco's body pressed against Harry's, bare skin to bare skin. The brunette's thick length pressed into the blond's stomach, and Draco wiggled then let out a stuttering gasp when his still covered erection met Harry's unclothed one.

The friction was divine.

"Harry," he groaned, his forehead against the other wizard's, his hips rolling instinctively. The dark-haired boy moaned and bit his lip as he answered the questing thrusts, his face screwed up as if he was in pain. "Merlin, Harry. You feel fucking amazing."

"Why… are you… still… wearing your… underwear?" was the panted response, making Draco let out a breath of surprised laughter. He leant down to kiss him again before ghosting his lips up to Harry's ear.

"The minute my naked cock touches your, Potter, this'll be all over," he murmured, jerking his hips faster and smirking at the curses that met the increased pace. He brushed his lips against the lobe and then abruptly caught it in his mouth and sucked, laughing quietly when the brunette's whole body jumped, before he released it to breathe in his ear, "when I come I want it to be inside you."

Harry breath caught and then escaped in a wheezy grunt that sounded surprised and impatient at the same time. He grabbed Draco by the back of the neck and pulled his head around. "So get the bloody hell on with it then," he growled, punctuating the order with a sharp up-tilt that had Draco's mouth gaping and his eyes rolling back. The Slytherin shook his head and blew out a trembling breath, his smirk now decidedly shaky.

"Bossy," he commented, wincing in his head at the octave his voice had jumped. Ducking down, he quickly shifted to kiss his way down Harry's chest, tongue circling his nipples, dragging down his sternum and dipping into his belly button. His confidence returned when Harry shifted restlessly on the cushions, low, needy noises accompanying his movements. He mouthed along the trail of hair, nibbling along his hipbone… then dragged his tongue straight up Harry's cock, laving it from root to tip.

"Fuck! D-Draco!"

"Ready for me, Potter?" Draco drawled, settling between Harry's legs and pushing up the other leg so that it was bent at the knee like the right one. His fingers dipped down and twitched, circling at the brunette's entrance. Harry's breath hitched. "Hmm. Not yet, but you will be."

Gliding his opposite hand along Harry's length, he leant to the side and fished around for his slacks, pulling his wand from the pocket. A whispered spell later and his now slippery fingers went back to pressing and seeking.

Harry tensed the second the first digit slipped inside. Draco looked up to find his eyes closed and his face strained with something other than desire. His hand on the other boy's cock sped up, twisting and swiping his thumb over the dripping head.

Gradually, the strain faded and Harry's hips began to move again. He sighed and his eyes opened.

"You've done this before."

It wasn't a question, but Draco treated it like one.

"Yes. Not often. Do you trust me, Harry?"

The amount of relief and pleasure he felt when Harry breathed out "yeah," shouldn't have shocked him. But it did. He pressed his lips together and nodded, his finger slowly beginning to move, his other hand never stopping. Harry was moaning continuously by the time he slipped in a second and then a third, and Draco was so hard he felt like he was going to explode. His breathing was ragged when he withdrew both hands and stood up to take off his underwear.

Harry's eyes blinked open. His face was slack with pleasure and he was unable to do anything but stare dumbly when Draco whispered the spell again and palmed his cock, groaning as he mixed the lubrication with his own pre-come, readying himself. Draco stared right back, exhaling sharply when he removed his hand and climbed back onto the sofa, hooking Harry's legs around his waist and lining up.

"All right?" he whispered. Harry was biting his bottom lip again and his nod was frantic. Draco leant down and kissed him and then slowly began to push in, hissing at the fit.

Sweet Merlin, he was tight! His walls gripped the Slytherin like a fist, the feel of him amazing as he inched forward, and it took everything Draco had not to thrust in abandon. Beneath him, Harry's head was thrown back, his eyes screwed closed, and with a hoarse groan Draco managed to stop, not sure whether it was from pleasure or pain.

"H-Harry?"

"I'm okay," came the automatic answer. His voice was scratchy and his erection had deflated halfway, but his eyes were reassuring when they opened and met Draco's. "Keep going."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed, running his hands down Draco's trembling arms and along his back. "Yeah, do it. Maybe just… can you touch me?"

Draco grunted and immediately wrapped his hand around the Gryffindor, stroking him back to full hardness. Harry sighed again, rolling his hips in time with Draco's hand, and moved his hands to Draco's arse, pressing his fingers into his flesh and urging him to move. Not needing to be told twice, Draco resumed, drawing back a little and rocking himself forward repeatedly until he was finally fully seated.

"Fuck, Potter, you feel… shit, you're perfect," he groaned, face buried in the other boy's shoulder again. Harry huffed out a laugh that quickly collapsed into a sound that was unidentifiable in its need. His finger pressed, more urgent than before.

Draco pulled away and locked eyes with the other wizard. Fingers urged once more, hips lifted, and Draco pulled back to slowly drive back in, doing it again, and again, a little more forcefully each time. Harry's answering thrusts were hesitant at first, but as desire overtook the discomfort, he quickly caught the rhythm and was soon sweating and straining, surging up to meet the blond's steady thrusts.

It was a sight that took Draco's breath away. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, withering beneath him, lost in the pleasure Draco was giving him. His was still using his hand on Harry and the boy was whining, twitching, close to begging. It was beautiful.

He was beautiful.

Something twisted in the blond wizard's chest; something that had been there all along, that had been hinted at, but he hadn't seen. Had refused to see. It was impossible not to see it now, and Draco clenched his teeth, his mouth swooping down to latch onto Harry's, his pace increasing. Harry moaned into his mouth, little pinpricks radiating up Draco spine from his nails digging in. Draco angled his hips, kissing him frantically, needing to get there, to get it all out.

Needing to let him know the only way he knew how.

He pumped again and with the new angle, brushed over a place that had Harry letting out a keening gasp. Draco grinned and aimed for it over and over, his tongue twining around the other boy's, and with one more twist of his sprinting hand and one more well placed thrust, he was swallowing Harry's cry as the brunette arched his back and came spectacularly, his cock jerking as warm splashes hit Draco's belly and chest. And it was Harry's face as he climaxed and the hot clutch of him around Draco that had the blond's thrusts turning short and erratic and his muscles locking down, his face once again in Harry's neck, moaning as his release washed over him in sporadic, body-numbing waves.

His face stayed in Harry's neck when he collapsed on top of him.

How long they stayed like that, Draco wasn't aware. He did know when he started shivering, however, the room cold now that he wasn't focused on Harry and their time together. Harry stirred when he felt the shiver run through the body lying against him.

"We better move; Ron and Hermione could be back any second."

His voice was raspy and Draco didn't say anything as he pulled himself away from Harry and picked up his wand, casting a scourgify to clean them up. Following his lead, Harry stayed silent as well, and both boys dressed quickly before standing and… just standing. Draco didn't know what to do now. Or say.

He wondered how long it'd be before Weasley realized it was safe to barge in, Granger berating him but still following. Knowing the ginger-haired simpleton, probably soon. They hadn't cast a silencing charm after all, and even someone as thick as Weasley should be able to tell when the act was over.

"I'm still going to do this."

Draco's heart jumped. He looked up, met a determined green gaze and grimaced. "I know."

Harry blinked. "You know?" he repeated slowly, bewildered. "That's all you're going to say? You're not going to try to stop me again?"

"Would it work?" Draco's voice was flat and one brow rose pointedly when Harry frowned and shook his head. "So it would be a waste of time to try, wouldn't it?"

Spying the fallen-over tumbler on the lid of the piano, he wandered over and picked it up, idly thinking of pouring another glass. Merlin knew he needed one.

"Thinking that way, wouldn't the first time have been a waste of time as well?"

Yes, definitely need one. "No," he answered, glancing over his shoulder to see Harry watching him, still looking confused. "That got me you. And I don't see that as a waste of time."

"Oh. So. I'll… I-I'll just go then?"

The nerve in his jaw began to jump again. "You do what you're best at, Potter."

Draco concentrated on pouring the drink as Harry stared at him. Even without turning around, he could see the disbelief and disappointment in the wizard's expression. But it was for the best. He couldn't stop him, he was too bloody stubborn, too bloody Gryffindor, too bloody good. So it was best to let him go. Best not to distract him, because distractions led to pain.

Led to death.

"Right. Well, take care of yourself, Malfoy. Thanks for the fare-thee-well, I guess."

His voice was the definition of tired, and Draco could hear him moving towards the door. He took another drink and that something that had changed, grown, solidified, twanged and reverberated inside him with Harry's every step.

He lasted until he heard the door open.

"If you die on me, Potter, I'll find a way to bring you back and then Avada you myself."

There was silence at his statement. Draco didn't turn around. The silence stretched for so long that the Slytherin thought Harry must've left without him realizing. His shoulders sagged and he threw the last of the drink back.

"Emotions just aren't your thing, are they, Malfoy?"

The tumbler dropped from his hand and Draco spun around, and Harry was there, right there, smiling at him; a smile that said he was aware that something had changed. Had solidified. And that he was happy about it. Draco swallowed heavily, staring through the glasses once more in front of a familiar green gaze. Harry's smile grew and he held out something that Draco took without a thought.

"Here."

The blond frowned down at the small hand-mirror. "I know what you think of me, Potter, but I assure you, I'm not that bad," he said in a voice that croaked. Harry laughed.

"It's a two-way mirror, you git," he retorted, shaking his head. "I have the other one and I'll keep it on me wherever we go. All you have to do is say my name and you'll appear in my mirror. Sirius used to have your one, but Dumbledore confiscated them saying they was too much of a security risk. I got them back after Dumbledore died and never got around to giving Sirius his one back."

"And you're giving this one to me now?" Draco questioned dubiously. "How is this any less of a security risk?"

Harry's lips twitched. "It's not. But they're in my possession and I trust you. The only way mine will be discovered is if we're captured, and since that's not going to happen, there's no risk there. Besides, I was going to glamour mine anyway. You just need to be somewhere heavily warded and impenetrable when you use yours. Actually, maybe you should be the one to initiate contact at all times, since that way you'll know it's safe."

Draco eyed the mirror. To be able to contact the wizard at any time, to know he was alive and safe… it was a stupid idea. A very stupid idea. Ludicrous. But…

"You know that this is entirely reckless, don't you?"

"'Course I do," Harry answered, grinning cheerfully. "But then I'm a Gryffindor, aren't I? Recklessness is what we live by. Just go with it, yeah? It'll make me feel better."

"And we all know that the Golden Boy's feelings come before everything else," Draco muttered. Harry laughed again and a smirk tugged at the corner of the blond's lips. "Fine, I'll let you have your foolish, dewy-eyed claptrap. But I best be going. I have to get myself ready for when Lupin and Black come rushing at me, demanding to know where you've taken off to."

Harry grinned at him and stepped back, turning to walk over to an open rucksack Draco hadn't noticed him carrying when he first walked in the room. He pulled the string to do it up and swung it over his shoulder. "Right," he drawled, doing a pretty good impression of Draco that had the other wizard's brows winging, "because we all know you're terrible at lying."

"Watch it, Potter; we wouldn't want the two dogs suddenly showing up here, would we?"

Again, Harry laughed, and Draco withdrew his wand and held it firmly, preparing himself to apparate before the smile could break through.

"I'll see you soon," he ordered softly when he was ready, eyes on the wild-haired wizard. Harry's grin widened and he nodded.

"Yeah, you will."

Draco inclined his head and closed his eyes… and then they flew open again because a mouth was on his and Harry was kissing him, and a moan escaped before he could stop it. Harry chuckled against his mouth, brushed his lips over Draco's a final time and stepped back.

"That kiss in fifth year really was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Draco sneered. "Sentimental milksop."

Harry's laughter followed him as he turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack. He appeared in his bedroom at the manor and immediately activated the wards so that the room was sealed tight and unbreakably silent, then quickly took out the mirror.

"Harry Potter," he hissed, blinking rather rapidly when a boy with black hair, green eyes and glasses, and a scar on his forehead, wavered into view.

"Hey," he said, smirking out at Draco. "That was quick."

"I just wanted to make sure it worked."

"Sure you did, Malfoy," Harry replied, his smirk growing. "Sure you did."

Scowling, Draco whispered "Finite," and the mirror went back to being a normal mirror.

One that didn't stray from his person for the next nine months.

Check out The Second Shadow if you want to know what happened during fifth year, as well as get a tiny glimpse of these two right after Harry kicks Voldy's ass. And let me know what you think, both here and there. And follow me on Tumblr (sableunstable). Hehe. ;)