July 22nd, 2003 (1:00 am)

"Where's Draco?" Harry groaned, his body shuddering from pain. Lucius grimaced at the bloody mess that was the Boy-Who-Lived. The Dark Lord had been ferocious in his punishing of Potter; the deep gashes from another round with the whip, claw marks and bruises and furious bite marks littered the boy's body from his neck down to his buttocks and thighs.

"He asked me to come in his place." Lucius stepped closer to see what he was dealing with and his heart nearly stopped in his chest when his eyes landed on the small of Potter's back. "Mon Dieu…"

Harry looked up with red-rimmed eyes. "It's bad, isn't it?" He winced as he slowly eased himself up when his bonds were released. "It burned so badly when he did it, I kept blacking out. He gets off on the most twisted shit," he let out a short laugh that sounded more like a sob.

Lucius had to shake his head to bring himself back to reality, "Lay back down; I need to clean it." Harry nodded and flopped back down onto his pillow.

"Might want to scourgify the bedding before you sit down," Harry mumbled and the older Malfoy's mouth twisted at the unpleasant thought of exactly what was on the bed. He did just that and then eased himself onto the edge, next to the prone form.

He cleaned the wounds with his wand, tracing each wound to close it until the bleeding stopped.

"When does the burning stop?" Harry whispered.

Lucius sighed, fingers working the ointment to the blackened brand scored into Harry's lower back. "It doesn't."

"Ever?"

"The pain becomes less intense as the mark heals, but it will burn during a summoning or when the Dark Lord is particularly…irate."

"So all the time," Harry confirmed. The blonde man said nothing and Harry breathed out an unsteady sigh.

"Draco hates me," he added softly as an afterthought a few minutes later.

"My son is upset with you for endangering young Hyperion's life."

"You all must hate me…it was stupid to act out. I know. I didn't mean for it to happen. I love my son, I couldn't…god I couldn't take it if I lost him! I'd die. I'd want to die." Harry's voice cracked and his shoulders shook as he buried his face into the pillow.

"I cannot imagine how painful it must've been to lose your child, Potter. It is any parent's worst nightmare."

"What would you do, Mr. Malfoy? If you were in my position, what would you do?"

Lucius gazed down at the boy on the bed with a strained expression on his face. He wiped his hands onto a towel to remove the remnants of the salve.

"I would do whatever it took to keep my child safe."

Harry exhaled through his nose. Whatever it took.

"Did you at least succeed?" Harry's head rose up off the pillow in surprise. What did Malfoy know?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me; I saw you attempting to hand something to that Longbottom boy."

"Are you going to tell him? He'll kill Neville," Harry said as he pulled on the offered briefs. "Please Mr. Malfoy…it was just a note to tell—to tell Ron and Hermione I loved them. I swear, it was just a note."

Lucius raised his hand to silence the brunette. "Potter! Did. You. Succeed?" Harry swallowed hard and nodded his head once.

"Good. At least it wasn't all for nothing, then. Draco will forgive you in time. He cares for you. I can't pretend to know how that happened, truthfully, because I spent six years listening to him prattle on and on about how inadequate you were. Yet, he does. Furthermore, he cares about Hyperion…I dare say we all do."

His face looked grave as Harry surveyed the man silently. He was still in trousers and a pristine button-down shirt even though it had to be past midnight by now. Although the patriarch no longer had the same haunted look from his brief stint in Azkaban, Lucius still seemed like a man trapped. He hid it well, but Harry could sense his weariness growing.

Harry shook his head as he was offered his pajama top, "If you don't mind, I'd rather not. I think the material will be too scratchy."

…

"What do you think you are doing?"

Draco looked up quickly as Lucius walked into the study.

Lucius eyed the glass of scotch in Draco's hand with a stern frown. His son was sitting haphazardly in the armchair in front of his desk, his face looking slightly flushed from the alcohol. Lucius walked by the chair and snatched the glass from his hand.

"Hey, that's mine…!" Draco mumbled lazily.

"Are you smashed? Sit up," he rapped Draco on the leg, knocking it down from where it was hooked over the arm of the lounger. Draco sat up, blinking wearily.

"That was the plan, Father…before you interrupted me," he drawled and Lucius sent him a severe look before downing the half-drunken scotch. He welcomed the burn.

"You are lucky I advised your mother to get some rest; you know how she feels about you drinking."

Draco sighed, "I know, I know, I'm such a disappointment." His eyes fluttered closed and Lucius's brow creased slightly with puzzled frown.

"What do you mean by that, Draco?"

Draco shrugged. "Forget it."

"Son, have your mother and I ever given you the impression you were a disappointment to us?" Lucius said softly.

Draco snorted and leaned his head to rest on the palm of his propped up arm. "I couldn't kill Dumble-Dumbledore like I was assigned to when I was sixteen. I couldn't even land a cruciatus curse properly when told to. I'm a failure, and a bloody-hic-lousy excuse for a pureblood and heir."

Lucius slowly leaned onto the edge of his desk before his son. He noted Draco's glazed eyes and let out a low sigh.

"Son…I am actually relieved you can't cast a proper cruciatus curse." Draco's head snapped up at his confession. "I am relieved you couldn't kill Albus Dumbledore, as well. Draco, do you have any idea what killing and torturing does to a person? To the human psyche? To the very soul? I've…I wanted better for you. Better than this.

"…Did you know when you were just a couple weeks old you urinated on me while I was changing your nappy? Ruined some very expensive robes, I might add. And when you were three you turned my prized albino peacock magenta. You threw a tantrum when I turned it back, too. I was wholly convinced you were part banshee. And then you went to Hogwarts and I heard from Severus all of the mischief you caused—terrorizing a hippogriff, dressing up like Dementors—"

"Where are you going with this, Father?" Lucius glowered at him.

"Don't interrupt me, Draco," he snapped and poured himself another generous glass of scotch. "My point is, son, you are a lot of things to me, including a downright pain-in-the-neck at times… but a disappointment has never been one of them. And you are certainly not a 'bloody lousy excuse for a pureblood and heir', as you so eloquently put it," Lucius finished. Draco seemed to deflate a little in relief, suddenly looking much younger than his twenty-two years.

"I…I like Harry, Father."

Lucius quirked an eyebrow.

"I am aware, Draco. You've been living with the boy for several years. It was bound to happen." He quirked an eyebrow when Draco shook his head sloppily.

"No…no, Dad. I mean I like him, a lot. More than I should," Draco groaned out and then stilled when he realized what he admitted. He tensed up and looked at his father with wild eyes.

Lucius froze as he witnessed Draco's confession. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. All of a sudden he was feeling very ill.

Draco and Potter? He knew they had developed some sort of friendship by now, it truly was bound to happen after all these years. But Draco harboring a crush for the Boy-Who-Lived was beyond perilous.

"See? A bitter disappointment…" Draco slurred quietly. He leaned forward to bury his face in his hands, wishing the floor would open him up to swallow him whole. He waited for a furious lecture or even a wallop with the cane, but it never came. Instead, Lucius's hand clasped him on the back of his neck and squeezed gently but firmly.

"I think, my son, it's time for you to get some sleep. Come; it's late."

The pair walked in silence up a flight of stairs in a tentative silence, Draco feeling uneasy for the entirety of the trip.

Usually he had a high tolerance for his alcohol. Slytherins were renowned for throwing parties in the common room. How could he let himself get to the point he'd let his feelings for Harry slip? He didn't mention Hyperion did he? No, he didn't say anything about Hyperion. He just said he liked Harry. That was it…right? Merlin, his head felt foggy.

"Draco. You're passing up your room." His feet rooted into the floor and he turned to look back where his father stood next to his bedroom door. Lucius rolled his eyes and pushed the door open.

"Go to sleep, son…and don't seek me out for a hangover potion in the morning; you absolutely will not get any sympathy from me." Lucius muttered. "Stay out of my liquor cabinet, young man," he added as an afterthought before shutting the door. Draco withheld a groan and stumbled into the room; he didn't care he hadn't changed his clothes as he dropped onto his bed. He was asleep before he hit the pillow.

…

"…"

"…Er, hey?"

"Hi," Draco said tersely. Harry sat at the kitchen table holding a sniffling Hyperion in his lap. He rubbed the little back before sliding into his seat beside his mother. He watched as Harry's tired face lowered to whisper words into the little boy's ear. Hyperion nodded, and eased into the seat next to his father, his little face streaked with crocodile-sized tears. Draco was grateful his father had taken over his duties last night and then again this morning when he woke up hungover and miserable.

Draco felt the anger rise into his chest as he recalled the child's sobs from the night before as he heard his daddy screams and cries from the bedroom. He recalled the pleas of "Please make him stop hurting my Daddy!" and clenched his hands into fists, determined to not make eye contact with anyone at the table. Between Hyperion and Harry's sobs he couldn't take it; it had driven him into his father's liquor cabinet. It drove him to drink to the point he let slip precarious feelings.

Because as angry as Draco was, as fucking livid as he was, those feelings were still there. He hated having feelings, sometimes.

He dug into his eggs quietly, until Hyperion's soft voice piped up from across the table.

"Everything will be okay," he said solemnly, patting Harry's hand tenderly. "They always tell me that."

Harry slowly lowered his fork and looked over at his son with a staggered look on his face. "Who, love? Who tells you that?"

Hyperion smiled pleasantly at all the bewildered faces around the dining table.

"Um, Padfoot and Prongs and the pretty lady."

Harry looked at Hyperion like he'd never seen him before. He sat back in his seat feeling mystified, wincing as his not-quite-healed back met the wood.

"Where—where did you hear those names, Hyperion?" Harry croaked out.

"They told me, Daddy," Hyperion said exasperatedly. Harry cleared his throat slightly, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, not quite knowing what to say.

"How—what…?"

"They're always around, Daddy. They play with me sometimes. They say we should have 'faith'."

Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat.

…

"Draco—"

"Don't, Harry. I am not in the mood," Draco said, turning the page of his book briskly.

"I'm sorry…" Harry whispered out. Draco watched out of the corner of his eye as Harry visibly deflated and made to leave the library. Don't do it, don't do it!

He snapped the book shut.

"Wait."

Why'd you do it?

Harry wheeled back around and gazed at him. Draco set his book aside and rose from the lounge. He walked slowly, deliberately to stop a few feet in front of the brunette who had his arms wrapped around himself protectively.

Draco shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and looked at Harry shrewdly. "I'm furious with you." He stated shortly, gaging Harry's reaction.

The boy nodded, "You have every right to hate me."

"I never said I hated you."

Harry shook his head, "You should. I hate myself. I was fucking stupid and gambling and it was horrible of me."

Draco conceded with a nod of his own, "It was stupid and horrible. You broke your promise to me. You very nearly got our son killed. I would've never forgiven you if you had."

Harry's eyes fluttered up to meet Draco's gaze. The cool eyes bored into him.

"…was it as awful as it sounded?"

Harry bit his lip, not wanting to relive his torture. "Yes...every time I blacked out he'd revive me. He loved it."

Draco frowned deeply.

"I—" Harry cut off and turned around, lifting his top up to reveal his marred back. Draco inhaled sharply.

"He marked you? Is that a real Dark Mark?"

Harry nodded bitterly. "Yes. He did it while he raped me. He literally did it while he came." Draco swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. He couldn't stand the thought—the visual he got when he thought of that hideous man on top of Harry, inside Harry, making him bleed, spelling the Dark Mark onto his skin; it threatened to make Draco violently ill.

He hadn't realized he was staring until Harry spun back around, tucking his shirt back in. "You know muggles call tattoos on their lower back 'tramp stamps?'" Harry asked. His voice sounded strained. "Funny, huh? Because I'm the Dark Lord's whore. Ha, ha."

"You—you are not a whore," Draco said sternly. "Hey, stop. Look at me," he reached down and crooked a finger under Harry's chin. "You aren't. You're a prisoner. Whore's get paid. You don't have a choice what you have to do."

"He called me a whore in front of everyone, Draco. As far as the Wizarding World is concerned, I've been bending over for the 'Dark Lord' like a wanton slut."

"He whipped you in front of them too. Or rather, Bellatrix did. I have faith that they're not stupid enough to believe you're a willing sex-slave."

"Hyperion did say that we needed to have faith."

Draco smirked, "He gets his astuteness from my side of the family." Harry grinned slightly at him.

"You are such an arrogant ponce."

"Tch, you wouldn't want me any other way; admit it."

Harry shrugged, his spirits lifting. "You're right. I wouldn't change your snarky, Slytherin pratty-ness for the world," he informed him honestly.

Draco leaned in to kiss him chastely on the forehead. "Don't be so rash again…I couldn't fucking stand hearing Hyperion cry like that. I couldn't stand hearing him torture you, either. My heart is on a bloody spear here Harry, don't stab it further."

They sat side by side on little sofa that occupied the library and sat in silence for some time before Harry spoke up. "I…I know it'll be a while before you trust me. I don't blame you. But thanks, you know, for not giving up on me."

(Flashback) January 3rd, 1999

"YOU BLOODY IMBECILES!" Snape yelled. Harry flinched slightly but Draco just eyed the Potions Master coolly. His arms were crossed in a defensive stance as he stood beside the examining table. "Are you two insane? You've both lost your bloody minds. Do you have a death wish, Draco? Do you want to lose another child, Potter?" He said harshly, shrugging off the guilt he felt at his last few words.

"Can you do it, or not, Severus?" Draco muttered, shifting uneasily. Snape closed his eyes, physically restraining himself from beating some sense into the pair.

"It's a powerful spell, but of course I can do it." Severus barked, his voice ladled with fury. "You two…have you any idea how dangerous this is? Not to mention, the child could still belong to the Dark Lord, and this could've all been a useless risk!"

Harry stilled, wide-eyed as he processed the words. "What?"

Snape huffed and shoved the torn page into his pocket, "You had intercourse with two men within twenty-four hours, Potter. While Draco was with you first, there's still a chance the Dark Lord's sperm could've reached home before his." Draco had the audacity to look affronted and Harry's face was flushed red from mortification.

"Is—is there no way of knowing whose child it is?" Harry asked, dreading the answer. He never thought he'd have to utter those words in his lifetime. Snape shook his head.

"Not until the child is born…bloody idiots." Severus sighed again. "You better Occlude like lives depend on it boys, because they most certainly do. Now both of you get out of my sight."

…

Harry looked at Draco. "It might not be yours. I'm so sorry, I didn't know, Draco…this really might've all been for nothing," he mumbled quietly to the blonde. Draco shook off the apology with the wave of his hand.

"It wasn't all for nothing. This child is mine. I know it is. It'll be a cold day in hell when my swimmers lose to his," Draco said smugly. Too. Fucking. Smugly. Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Ponce," Draco self-assured smirk grew.

"What can I say? I get the job done. And judging by the way you behaved last week, quite thoroughly too."

"You're seriously gloating about that? Really?" Harry said incredulously, his cheeks warming slightly at the memory of their encounter. Draco shrugged casually.

"I'm an adolescent with raging hormones, and you're quite loud and zealous in bed. Can you blame me?"

"Oh God," Harry moaned, feeling humiliated.

"There you go, calling me a God again…"

"I hate you, Malfoy!"

Draco paused and glanced at the dark-haired teen. "It's sexy, Harry. I like that you're loud. I like that I could get your eyes to roll back into your head like—ouch!"

"Seriously, Draco, stop." Harry said, his palm stinging slightly from where he smacked the blonde's shoulder sharply.

"Fine, fine…" Draco lamented mockingly, hands in the air in surrender.

"…"

"You…think I'm sexy?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"…maybe."

Harry couldn't help but gloat a bit, either.

(Flashback) January 10th, 1999

"Oh, shit…" Harry gasped as Draco nipped down his neck and shoulder. Draco smirked at the image him and Harry made in the bathroom mirror together. Yes, Draco decided, very sexy.

"We can't do this, your parents—"

"—Are not going to waltz right in if they think you're bathing."

"But—oh—they could hear!"

"I cast a silencio already."

"God, don't stop then." Draco grinned devilishly as he met Harry's eyes in the mirror.

"Hold on tight to the sink," Draco murmured before he slid gracefully down to his knees to level with Harry's pert arse. He squeezed the globes firmly as he pried them apart to reveal the puckered opening. He leaned in to lick a broad stripe across it with his tongue, admiring the sound of Harry's keening moan. "I could eat you all day long," he said lowly, and Harry's hips jerked back towards Draco's face in a desperate need. His erection was heavy and Harry reached down to give it a few tugs. He'd had his reservations at first, but Harry decided wholeheartedly that he wouldn't mind at all if Draco did this to him all day long.

The mouth was making filthy slurping noises that made Harry's knees feel weak with arousal.

"Mmm," Draco said, pulling back from the crack of his arse and bit gently on a cheek, one slender finger poking at his wet entrance, rubbing enticingly before slipping inside in one slick motion.

"Ah!" Harry pushed himself onto the digit and Draco's lust-blown eyes watched as Harry's arse swallowed his finger. He groaned aloud and spat onto his middle finger before working it in gradually beside the other. After a few moments of scissoring and thrusting his fingers, Draco withdrew them quickly and hooked his thumbs on either side of the reddened rim, tugging Harry open a little and stuck his tongue in, probing him wetly between his fingers.

"Fuck, I want you," Harry panted out and Draco stood up fluidly behind him, pressing his warm cock in between the flesh of his buttocks.

"Want you so badly," Draco murmured into his ear and Harry's skin broke out into goosebumps as the warm breath tickled his neck. "Lift your knee up onto the counter, Harry…" Draco suggested urgently, a hand grasping the back of Harry's thigh and guiding his right leg to prop itself onto the counter. Harry smirked and jutted his backside out to rub against Draco's prick. The blonde's hand gripped tighter onto his sweaty thigh at the stimulation.

Within seconds Draco was oiling himself liberally and pressing in with the blunt head of his cock. Harry let out a grunt at the stretch, urging his muscles to relax against the intrusion, to accept the pleasure Draco was going to give him, and to give it back to him just as well. Draco let out a long breath as he slid home, balls deep into Harry. Harry smiled at Draco's reflection and then leaned forward to place one hand on the counter and one onto the mirror to brace himself.

Last week they had been in bed, and Harry loved every minute of it. But standing here in the bathroom, half on the counter, Harry loved the sensuality of it. And most importantly he loved he could see Draco's face, with his mouth open slightly, eyes closed like he wanted to take in every sensation…and then the grey eyes opened and met Harry's own reflection, he smiled.

Not the trademark smirk Harry had grown fond of, but a genuine smile that made Harry's heart swell.

Draco laced his fingers with Harry's own against the mirror and thrust languidly, smoothly. They should've been hurrying. They shouldn't have been doing this at all. But neither boy could bring himself to care and Draco rocked his hips to grind against Harry's prostate causing him to yell out loudly at the feeling.

The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mingled with their harsh panting and filthy squelching noises from all the lube. It was bloody heaven, Harry decided as he met every thrust of Draco's, pushing his hips backwards onto Draco's cock.

"Fuck, give it to me," Harry demanded breathlessly in a voice that sounded much more confident than he felt. He was inexperience and unpracticed and was all too aware of it most of the time. But here, now, with Draco doing this with him, to him, his words spilled from his lips before he could stop them, and he felt embarrassed at how shameless he must've sounded to the blonde. However, Draco didn't seem turned off by Harry's words; if anything it spurred him on if the increasing canting of hips were anything to go by.

He had never felt so desirable by anyone; never thought that a person would want him so badly that he'd end up fucking in a bathroom of all places. The thought of it made him feel heady and dizzy with pleasure.

Harry could feel the familiar boiling heat pooling into his groin, and he wagged his head, desperate not to come but unable to help it and then he threw his head back onto Draco's shoulder. "I'm gonna, I'm—I—."

Draco's hand grasped his cock without hesitation tugging it with a warm long-fingered hand. "Come for me, fuck Harry, come for me-!" Come for me. All it took were three little words and a couple firm strokes and Harry's body seized at the force of his orgasm slamming through him. The combination of Harry's whimpers and the involuntary tightening of that arse around his cock forced Draco's own imminent release and he snapped his hips into Harry one last time, clenched teeth and shuddering.

Draco's chest was heaving and Harry's body that rested against him rose and fall with the motion of it. "I think," Draco started as he rubbed Harry's sweaty thigh, "I need a shower now, as well." Harry's head lolled onto his shoulder and he let out a sated laugh.

"Join me? We've already spent ages in here now; we better hurry."

Draco smirked, looking much too self-satisfied as he and Harry slid apart to slide under the steady stream of water together. In Draco's few exploits, he could honestly admit he had never showered with another person. Now, here he stood with the boy he once considered the bane of his existence, and he paid no mind to the water dripping into his eyes as he reached out and pulled Harry against his own slippery body in a silent embrace. There was nothing sexual about it, just a mutual search for intimacy.

If Draco was going to get murdered for this, at least he would die happy.