Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns the characters. I only own the writing.

Warning: Male/male slash. Don't like it? Please disapparate.

A/N: Love to all reviewers! This chapter is for Altricial, megan, darklites and Psykiapa, who asked for a sequel. Ulrika, I want a three-inch talking dragon, too! : )

Title: Trail of Dragons

-----

Ch2: To Have, To Keep

-----

Harry clutched the little silver dragon in his hand as he opened the heavy oak door. He half expected it to creak, like in a bad suspense movie, but it swung open soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. The room was small, with a very high ceiling and a slate-flagged floor. Two high, pointed windows, like half-transparent posters glued on to the darkness outside, reflected subdued light and the slim back and sleek blond head of Draco Malfoy, who sat on the window seat, dangling long legs. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved, body-hugging black top; robes in a bundle beside him. Harry froze and wondered how fast your heart could beat without seriously damaging your health. Heat rushed painfully through his veins with each slamming stroke. He had never seen Draco look so absolutely, serenely beautiful; his face faintly golden in the soft light, his eyes like distant stars. He might be the wicked wizard, but he looked like a Botticelli angel.

When Harry entered the room Draco drew a sharp breath and found he couldn't exhale. So he held his breath while his eyes drank in the flushed face, high cheekbones, full mouth, eyes so solemn, fire burning in them, deep down. But he is perfect. Why haven't I seen it before? Harry's left hand was balled up in a fist, clutching something that must be the silver dragon. It was Draco's most treasured belonging. It wasn't the most valuable object he owned, or the most skilfully crafted one, but he had a soft spot for it. He wasn't entirely sure why. Simply because it was beautiful and he liked beautiful things? Because it had emerald eyes, so startlingly like the eyes he was staring into this very moment…? Or because he saw it as a symbol of himself? The silver dragon wasn't the last object in the trail by coincidence. Draco felt he had placed himself on the floor for Harry to miss, or step on, or pick up. Now Harry was holding him in the palm of his hand and could do with him whatever he wanted. He could throw him away, forget him, destroy him… or keep him and protect him. And Draco could only wait.

When he could breathe again, he lifted his chin and said: "Curfew, Potter. You're breaking school rules."

The green eyes widened and sparks of amusement began to fly like fireworks in them.

"I'm not the only one," Harry said, and the soft challenge in his voice made the hairs on Draco's arms stand up. "I'd say you've broken a few more than I have. If I'm not mistaken, you used OP spells."

The faintest smile appeared at the corners of Draco's mouth. He was pleased, both that Harry should know about Object Placement spells and that he actually recognized them when he saw them at work.

"Action linked OP spells – that's very advanced magic," Harry was saying. "I'm impressed, Malfoy." He paused, eyeing Draco. "Not so sure I'm impressed by your intelligence, though. You are aware that I could go to Dumbledore…? And that this would be enough to get you expelled…?"

Draco struggled not to let his expression change, not to let that shadow of a smile die on his lips. This was unexpected. He had expected a puzzled Harry, nervous perhaps, blushing and unsure about himself and about the situation. Certainly not this confident, relaxed-looking Harry, eyes glittering with challenge and amusement, voice soft but with a jagged edge that cut Draco to the bone.

"But you wouldn't do that," he said glibly. "Not you. Not the noble Harry Potter."

"Oh yes, I would. Believe me. I'd do it this minute if I thought I stood to gain something from it."

"Well, don't you? Think about it. Wouldn't it be a nice trophy for your collection? And so easily won, too. Wouldn't you just love to humiliate the powerful Malfoy family with a simple, mean little act like that?" Draco's voice was smooth as butter. "Anyway, I don't see how you could possibly get me expelled. You have absolutely no proof."

Harry smiled, a smile that made Draco feel he would have preferred to be punched in the face. "Surely you must know about Reversing spells?"

Draco's heart sank, but his expression didn't change.

"Dumbledore would confiscate your wand and be able to see for himself exactly what you did."

Draco's heart sank even lower. Harry was holding the silver dragon with his fingertips now, ready to drop it to the floor and put his heel on it.

"And, considering all the times you've tried to get me into trouble… well. You'll have to admit you'd only get what you deserve."

Draco's heart went cold.

"However… " Harry said, fingers playing with the silver dragon. "I don't see what I'd gain from it. The satisfaction of seeing your expression... hmmm… " Pretending to consider. "Naah, not worth it. No, Malfoy, I think it's more fun having you here so I can insult you to your face." He tossed the dragon into the air and caught it again with the graceful confidence of the Seeker.

Draco's heart soared on new-found wings. He wanted to laugh, and he hated Harry for making him feel pleased when he was being humiliated. But his face still didn't show anything at all. Harry fished the pendant, the golden dragon, and the bookmark out of his jeans pocket, crossed the room and held them out to Draco together with the silver dragon. Draco took them without a word. A wave of heat washed through him as he felt them in his palm, warm from Harry's body. His fingers closed instinctively around them to hold on to that warmth. A caress by proxy.

"Can I keep the drawing?" Harry asked in a low voice.

Draco's face went hot. Harry asking to keep something of his, something he had made, felt… intimate. He nodded, slid down from the window seat and held out the silver dragon to Harry.

"Here," he said. "I'd like you to keep this, too."

When Harry didn't move, Draco reached out and took his hand. He turned the palm upwards, placed the little dragon in it, and closed Harry's fingers around it. He didn't remove his own hand. They both looked down at the soft knot of their hands, one curled around the other, like the dragon and the lion in the drawing. The warmth from Harry's hand was spreading up Draco's arm. "It's the Slytherin colours," he said. He didn't want to phrase it any clearer than that.

"I noticed," Harry said, his voice not quite steady. "I thought that was a nice touch – the trail starting with the Gryffindor colours and me, and ending with the Slytherin ones and you."

Draco smiled, delighted that Harry should have noticed a small point like that, and even more delighted with his description of it. Smile met smile and their eyes locked.

"Do you mean it? That I should keep it? It must be valuable."

"I'd like you to have it. If you want it."

"Thank you. It's – it's beautiful."

They both blushed, almost shy now, aware of the significance of this gift and this acceptance. Stillness closed around them, sank softly to the floor. It was so quiet they imagined they could hear each other's thoughts, filling the room with barely audible whispers. Draco adjusted his hand around Harry's, moved his thumb lightly over Harry's fingers. He felt Harry try not to shiver.

"But maybe you won't need it…?" Draco whispered, like a caress, his face very close to Harry's now. This time, Harry did shiver, but he didn't back away. "I mean…" Draco lifted his free hand and ran a fingertip oh so lightly down Harry's cheek. "…now that you have the real dragon."

Harry's intake of breath was the most gratifying sound he had ever heard, and he decided to take it as an invitation. He closed the remaining space between them, leaned in to touch Harry's lips with his own. And Harry responded. Their mouths had been waiting for each other all their lives. Their lips knew each other already. They knew the minute adjustments needed for them to fit perfectly; they knew exactly when to part and allow tongues to meet.

Draco had dreamed of prying Harry's lips open, of letting his tongue force its way into the other boy's mouth, but now he felt faint with the realisation that force was unnecessary. Harry read his intention and opened up for him – willingly, eagerly, not at all passive like in Draco's dreams. The dreams were already dissolving and giving way to this sweet reality.

When Draco felt Harry's free hand reach around his waist to pull him closer, a sound like a whimper escaped him. He tensed and wondered for a fraction of a second if he should feel embarrassed, but then he registered the reaction in the other boy. It was as if that small sound shifted the focus of their kiss and turned the gentleness into something else, something darker and more insistent. Their breathing quickened as hands explored, as tongues went deeper into moist cavities and teeth began to insist on biting lips. And then there was a soft moan from Harry, too; a moan that nudged Draco close to the edge of insanity. They either had to stop or he would give in to the hot urge unfolding inside him – and he couldn't imagine where they would end up if he did.

He withdrew and they stood staring at each other, both of them breathing hard. With a narrow buffer of air between them, Draco regained his senses. He never wanted to hurt the lovely face in front of him, this flushed young face with eyes bold and frightened. Never hurt. Never scare. Only adore. He pulled the other boy to him again, held him, hot faces just touching.

"I could… get used to this," Harry mumbled into Draco's hair.

Draco laughed shakily. "Even you should be able to come up with a better line than that, Potter, " he breathed.

Harry's responding laugh was the softest thing he'd ever heard. "Never fancied a career as a dragon tamer," Harry said. "But I suppose I could give it a try."

"Don't bother. Dragons can't be tamed."

"Unless they want to."

Draco shivered, and he had never known a shiver could feel so wonderful. It was as if every sensation reinvented itself with Harry; everything was new and as yet undiscovered, and he would have to re-evaluate all he had ever known.

"Yes, unless they want to."

"Do you happen to know how dragons react to a little persuasion…?"

Draco leaned back so he could see Harry's eyes, and his own eyes widened at what they saw there. "I think…" he said in a half-whisper. "I think they're really very susceptible to persuasion."

The perfectionist in him, the lover of true beauty, would be at peace tonight. This very moment, he felt they had reached perfection. It might not last, but perfection had nothing to do with constancy or durability. And perfection like this, if only for a moment, was more than most people would ever experience.

~ end ~