A/N: This story is an alternate relationship fic based on the Darkness Within by Kurionne. If you haven't read that one, this won't make much sense.

WARNING: This story contains slash.

Background: Baby Harry is kidnapped by Pettigrew and raised by Voldemort as his son. Trained extensively and kept mostly a secret, at 16 Harry is Voldemort's prime assassin. Most Death Eaters only know of rumors that there is a special person living at Riddle Manor. Harry must wear a mask in "public" to keep his identity secret, even from other Death Eaters. Only Lucius and Bella have actually met him, and they helped raise and train him. Draco joined in some of Harry's lessons pre-Hogwarts and still visits on holidays, though Voldemort does not at all approve of the egalitarian nature of their relationship and is openly hostile to Draco.

Draco frowned around the dim interior of the Hog's Head. He wasn't surprised when the barkeep whispered instructions as he passed over a butterbeer.

"Upstairs, third on the right. No charge."

The man seemed shaken. Father sometimes had that effect, but it made Draco step even lighter.

He found the room easily but hesitated a moment before opening the door. Father had never wanted to see him on Hogsmeade weekends before and this level of subterfuge was unusual.

Finally, he plastered a confident, pleasant expression on his face and pushed open the door. After a glance inside he froze barely a foot into the room.

Lounging with nonchalant, deadly grace against a small table on the opposite wall was the last person Draco expected to see. The room was small, tiny, and the leather clad youth filled the space with his presence, to the point it seemed there wasn't room for air.

Draco nearly laughed and asked what he was doing here, but the sight of the dagger held casually in the youth's hand spoke of a possibility Draco had never thought to face, but had always feared. Quietly, meekly, Draco stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Prince," he said respectfully, keeping his eyes well below those of the other youth.

From his peripheral vision, Draco saw the dark green eyes turn to look at him, then glance away again. Not a good sign!

"Draco," the prince said flatly. He flipped the dagger in his hand, caught it, and frowned at it.

Draco's eyes darted around the room, though he knew the only exit was the door behind him or the window past the Prince. He would never make it out of either of them. Hell, no one made it anywhere when the Prince came for them. Though, to be honest, Draco wasn't entirely sure he could make himself run anyway.

Don't be stupid. This is Harry! He would never… wouldn't he? If the Dark Lord told him to? —shut up! I can't believe that! I won't!

"How can I be of service?" he asked, with every ounce of politeness he had.

The prince flipped the dagger again then slipped it into a sheath faster than an eye blink. He hunched into himself and frowned out the window, then stood with sinuous grace and turned to face Draco, dripping with confidence and authority.

"I have to know what it meant."

Draco frowned. His eyes flicked up to lock with the green ones but he immediately looked away. "What 'what' meant? Er, Prince?" It seemed unnatural to be addressing Harry so formally, but then, Draco had several years of observation of protocol, and until he knew for sure whether Harry was here of his own accord or on the Dark Lord's order he would play it as safe as possible.

To his everlasting shock a soft touch, a caress brushed the back of his hand, thumb sliding over the knuckles. He started and actually jumped sideways away from his friend.

"That," the prince said casually. "Last month, when you were at the Manor. We were reading…"

…on the couch in Harry's suite. Draco had been doing homework; Harry had been reading some ancient tome on using transfiguration in the Dark Arts. Then the prince had fallen asleep. Draco had found himself staring at Harry, loving the unruly black hair, tan skin, thick lashes, and admiring the toned physique. After months of denial, of hiding, he allowed himself to at least enjoy looking.

And then he had gently pulled the book from Harry's hand, without thinking, without even realizing he was doing it. Still looking at the book, thinking how brilliant Harry was, he hadn't noticed his other hand was still settled over Harry's tan one, thoughtlessly caressing the knuckles with his thumb…until Harry's hand twitched and he glanced back to find those beautiful green eyes looking at him.

He'd immediately removed his hand and started babbling about putting Harry's book away, or checking some transfiguration answers, or something, and they'd moved on. He'd told himself he was imagining a new… something in Harry's expression, both that night and in the other few times he'd visited over the last two weeks of summer.

Apparently he hadn't imagined it.

Merlin Immortal! If the Dark Lord ever even suspected! He already hated Draco. If he thought Draco was…that he even imagined…

Draco wished with everything he had that he could take the moment back, that Harry—the Dark Prince—wasn't here asking him this right now.

"I remember," he nearly choked getting the words out. He desperately wished there were more air the room. He was sure he was shaking, whether with fear that the Dark Lord had sent Harry to kill him, or fear that he hadn't, that Harry was here on his own and was about to end their friendship he wasn't sure.

Still not meeting the Prince's eyes, Draco murmured, "Did the Dark Lord send you?" He had to try twice to say it coherently.

He felt Harry's eyes sweep him up and down, calmly noting how terrified he was. A cat noticing a mouse's trembling. The Prince drew the dagger again but immediately spun away and stabbed in into the top of the desk he'd been leaning against earlier.

"No."

Draco let out a relieved breath and put a hand against the wall to keep from sagging against it.

Thank Merlin!

"I was… I thought…" he couldn't finish that sentence, not out loud.

"You thought he'd sent me to kill you?" Harry asked it casually, but with a weight that Draco appreciated. Not a hint of mockery.

"Someday, I think he will," Draco replied.

Harry merely looked out the window for a moment. "You haven't answered my question."

Draco tugged at his collar and smoothed a hand over his robes, collecting his dignity. But now they were back to that topic. He still couldn't meet Harry's eyes for more than a second. "Technically, you haven't asked one."

A disgruntled sniff was all his reply.

"I don't suppose if I asked you to forget it ever happened…"

"That I would? Only if you tell me it was nothing. But I know that would be a lie." In a single stride Harry was back across the room, inches from Draco's face. Though he wasn't tall he loomed over Draco. "And don't you ever, ever, lie to me, Malfoy. Not. Ever." Every ounce of menace he possessed poured out from him.

This time Draco was too incensed to be afraid. Now that he knew this was Harry, his friend—best friend—and not the Dark Prince, the masked assassin, he let himself fight back.

He glared at Harry, straight in the eye and shoved his way out from between Harry and the wall. "Don't insult me, your highness. You know I would never lie to you."

Harry met his gaze calmly. "So what was it?"

Suddenly the room felt far too small and Draco again looked away. "Please don't ask."

"I've already asked. Three times. Last chance, Draco."

Last chance. Last chance to what? To have Harry reject him forever? To have the Dark Lord really order his death instead of just threaten to?

"I…" Draco started, but his throat closed up. He settled with, "or what?"

He felt Harry stiffen. He strode past Draco towards the window. He already had the sash up and a foot on the sill when Draco lunged over and grabbed his wrist.

"No! Please don't leave." The prince stilled, but neither turned nor lowered his foot. "Please, just…I need a minute," Draco pleaded.

Only when Harry slowly brought his foot back to the floor did Draco drop his wrist. It was all going to end! He shook his head to clear it and dropped onto the tiny cot sized bed.

"Thank you."

He heard Harry turn, lounging once again against the table. Even so at ease it felt like sharing the room with a panther. A panther that was also insanely attractive.

"You've never been like this before," Harry said with a faint note of contempt. "Is it so terrible?" The last was said with a subtle note of seduction that Draco firmly decided he was imagining. It still sent shivers up his spine. He buried his head in his hands.

"If your ffff… if the Dark Lord hears, if he even imagined this, he would order you to kill me. He would!"

"I would refuse," Harry said, as if it were that easy!

Draco shook his head. "I want to believe that. No, no, I—I do believe you. But if you did, he'd send someone else. Anyone else would do it. Aunt Bella? She'd gut me like a fish for even thinking…" he drifted off again.

"Just say it, Draco."

Instead Draco stood and turned away to the door. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can't. He would destroy me. My father…I can't." He reached for the door knob but suddenly Harry was there blocking the door.

"Say it, Draco."

Draco stepped back, shaking his head. This couldn't be happening!

"Say it!"

He backed up again, already hitting the table with the dagger still stuck in it. Harry barely stepped towards him but Draco put up a hand to ward him off.

"Please let me leave, Harry."

"Do you love me, Draco?" the voice whispered in his ear and Draco's eyes flew open. Harry was leaning over him, his mouth nearly on Draco's ear. Harry pulled back enough to lock eyes with Draco. Despite himself Draco trembled. So close! I could—No! I don't dare!

His control was slipping, and Draco felt himself start to nod, yes, yes he did love—he put up a hand to try and push Harry away and shook his head. "He'll kill me, Harry. If I ever touched you, if he even thought I had, he'd kill me."

"Let me worry about Father." The statement was accompanied by a firm hand gently cupping Draco's chin, pulling him to meet Harry's eyes again. "Draco. Are you in love with me?"

Merlin, help me! Draco prayed. He felt as if the red eyes were locked onto him right now, seeing the Dark Prince touching him. But staring into those green eyes, Harry's eyes, he could only nod.

"Yes."

Yes, Harry, damn you. I love you! Now let me go.

Harry pulled away, slowly. "How long?" His tone was still casual, but Draco knew him well enough to detect the first notes of uncertainty.

Draco took a deep breath, shaking himself. "A year? Not quite, I think. At least, that's when…when I first noticed."

Draco had been waiting in Harry's suite while he showered after a training session. He'd come out in trousers but no shirt. That in itself wasn't anything new, but this time Draco had noticed. Particularly, he'd noticed Harry's scars, and for the first time wanted to touch them, to heal them, and to burn the men who'd given them to him. He'd been shocked by his own reaction.

For several long, eternal minutes, Harry stood there in silence. Draco couldn't bear to look at his face. He was too afraid he'd find it full of revulsion, rejection, anger, dismissal. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He looked up, but Harry's face was completely unreadable. He was just watching him. "Gods, please say something, Harry. Anything! Tell me to get lost, or—"

"Kiss me."

Draco blinked. "Wh—what?"

"You heard me." Harry straightened, every inch the Dark Lord's Prince. "Kiss me," he commanded.

Draco shrank in on himself, burying his face in his hands again. "Don't play with me," he pleaded. "Please don't. I'm not—I'm not a toy, Harry." You would be, if that's what he wanted, a voice in his head whispered.

"No, you're not," Harry said, still commanding. "But right now you're being a bloody coward!"

"You don't know what it's like!" Draco burst out. His eyes were wet but he was past caring. "To live in fear? To worry that every time you walk up to those doors could be the time the Dark Lord has ordered them to snatch you. To kill you! Torture you! I know you love him, and he loves you, but he has never cared about me. He hates me, Harry! He always has. He hates that I visit you, hates that you tolerate me. If he actually knew we were friends, real friends, you think he'd hesitate? Every time, every single damn time I come to you I worry that he'll find me before I find you. At least, if you're around when he finds me… at least I know he won't kill me in front of you. At least, I hope not."

Draco swallowed heavily. He was frequently irreverent and sarcastic with Harry, even jokingly insulting, but never this open or vulnerable. "If he thought I had touched you, if he even thought I'd thought about it, I don't know if even you could stop him."

"Would you let me worry about him?" Harry scoffed. He sounded so casual. So carefree! He had no idea!

Draco wasn't sure if he was laughing or crying. "You still don't get it! You're asking for my life, Harry—"

Harry suddenly grabbed his collar and hauled him to his feet. "I said, kiss me," he growled in Draco's face.

Draco tried vainly to shake his head and push away but his back was to the wall. "Ha—"

"Shut up."

Something sparked in Harry's eyes and in the blink of an eye he hauled Draco away from the wall and spun them around, putting his own back into the corner he yanked Draco to him, grabbing Draco's head in his hands. "Kiss me," he insisted, quietly this time.

He pulled Draco's head down until their lips met. For a heartbeat, Draco panicked. It's over! I'm dead. He'll kill me—HE is KISSING YOU!

He melted forward into the kiss, gently pressing Harry back against the wall. He could feel every muscle, hardened with years of training, even through Harry's leathers. Draco's hands, which had been braced against the wall, slid, one to twine in Harry's hair, the other to cup his cheek. He felt Harry's hands—large, strong, sure—caressing his neck, trailing down his front and around his waist. Merlin, it feels so good!

Eventually, they broke the kiss, but didn't pull away.

"There," Harry whispered. "Was that so hard?"

Draco was still leaning against Harry, panting into his shoulder. "The hardest thing I've ever done." The fear was back, but now it was a tiny thing, quivering in a corner of his mind. A trembling certainty that at any moment he'd see red eyes over his shoulder. But just now there were more pressing matters to consider.

"Can you say it now? Please?"

Harry never said please, not to anyone, except in jest. But he meant it this time. Draco pulled back slightly, barely enough to meet Harry's eyes. "I love you, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Thank you," he whispered.

Draco felt a momentary stab of worry that Harry didn't keep going, I love you too, Draco. Idiot! He's the freaking Dark Prince. He doesn't want to be your boyfriend. You'll be lucky to get a snog every once in a while when he needs to let of steam.

Draco stepped away, suddenly nervous. "Well, uh, now…now you know."

Harry grabbed his wrist and Draco tensed. "That's it? 'Now I know?' Merlin, Draco! What do you want? Tell me what you want!"

Draco tugged against Harry's hold, a fruitless gesture. "I don't want anything! You—you're the Dark Prince, Harry. After this I should probably stay away from the Manor for…well, I should just stay away. It would only cause problems."

The pressure on his wrist increased. "What do you want, Draco?"

Draco shuddered to hear that voice to tender. It was true, he should stay away. He should leave right now. But it was Harry. His Harry, in more ways than one now. "Whatever you'll give me," he said quietly. "I want all of it. I know that's not possible. You wouldn't want…you're right. I'm a coward. I can't fight. I can't duel, either. Not really, not like you can. I may be clever at Hogwarts but I'm not… gifted, or especially talented." Or beautiful. "I'm not asking for anything, and I won't."

He waited but all Harry did was drop his wrist. He grabbed it with his other hand and rubbed some feeling back into it. Harry was dangerously still. Draco swallowed. He should leave. He should! Leave and never set foot in Riddle Manor again. Never respond to Harry's letters. Never meet him on Hogsmeade weekends, certainly. It was all over. It had to be over.

He knew that was the only way. But what he said was….

"I won't ask. But if you need to… ever..." He swallowed. Admitting this was as difficult as everything he'd already admitted. In for a bottle, in for a cauldron. "I said I wasn't a toy, but if that's what you—"

He cut off as Harry grabbed his collar again and hauled Draco back against his chest and kissed him again. This time he was rougher. Draco observed distantly that his fingers were woven so tightly in Harry's hair he could easily have pulled it out. He tightened his grip. Harry hitched his hips up tighter against him and Draco moaned into Harry's mouth.

Roughly, Harry thrust Draco's head back a bare inch. "Never say that again. Never! If we're going to do this, we do it properly. Never suggest anything else! Not even to yourself."

Draco could barely think. Every nerve was alive and tingling! He nodded, barely knowing what he was agreeing with. "Never. What….? Do you mean you actually—"

Harry kissed him again. "Yes. You're my best friend, Draco. My only friend. Who else could I possibly love?"

Draco licked his lips, still nervous. "What if you meet someone?"

"I could never trust anyone else," Harry said evenly. "I trust you with my life, Draco. And with this." He pulled Draco down again.

Draco melted into it, into Harry. It was really happening! After months of longing, wishing, knowing it could never be, finally—

The door swung open.

"Draco? The idiot barman seems to think—Morgana's tits!"

Draco leapt back from Harry, fear, terror coursing through his very live nervous system. He pressed himself back against the wall, feet away from Harry, staring wide-eyed at the man who had walked in.

Harry slowly, gracefully peeled himself from the wall. "Lucius," he greeted the man. Draco's father. Harry was regal, exuding authority from every pore, but the threat hung heavy in his voice. "A pleasure to see you, though your manners could improve."

"Of—of course, my prince," Lucius stammered. His eyes swept from Harry to Draco and back. "Forgive my intrusion. I had no idea you were here."

Harry waved away his apology, supremely unconcerned. "I am having a private discussion with your son, Lucius. I trust you will not speak of this meeting to anyone."

Lucius bowed, but not very low. He still seemed out of countenance, but his eyes were calculating. "Of course, my prince. My lips are sealed."

Harry frowned. "Understand, Lucius, I will speak to Father myself. I would not like to learn others have spoken before me."

Lucius bowed again, shaking his head. "No, no. Of course not. As you say. He shall not hear it from me."

With a nod Harry waved him away. "I must finish speaking with Draco. Then I will return him to Hogwarts. I will see you at the Manor?" It was not a request, but an instruction. Draco flashed a small smile to Harry, though his relief was infinitesimally small. Harry had bought him a reprieve from his father's questions, though Draco had little hope his father could truly hide what he had seen from the Dark Lord. He always found out.

Lucius bowed and left with one final, calculating glance at Draco.

When he was gone, Draco slid down the wall and curled into a ball.

"What now?" Harry asked. A small note of irritation had crept back into his voice.

"He's the best Legilimens in the world. One look at Father and he'll know. Believe me Harry, when I get back to Hogwarts, there'll be a summons home. From there, he'll take me to him." At least his voice wasn't shaking, even if the rest of him was. He struggled to his feet, stepped up to Harry, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. With a sigh he brushed a hand over the place he'd kissed.

"That's all I ever wanted. Just that. Just to tell you…"

He stepped back and turned to the door but once again Harry was there before him blocking the way.

"You're really that afraid of him." Harry sounded unbelieving. "You really think he's going to kill you."

Draco merely met his eyes and nodded.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Alright. Come with me." He turned to the window.

Lucius entered his home and was immediately set upon by his wife and sister-in-law.

"Where have you been?" Narcissa asked, eyes wide with worry.

Bella looked relieved, but more angry than worried. "The Dark Lord has been waiting for over an hour, you fool!"

She grabbed him in a steely claw and dragged him a few steps before he could wrench himself free. He gave the women a look but made no answer as he quickened his steps to the drawing room. Swinging the doors open he bowed low, lower than usual.

"My lord, I beg your forgiveness."

The Dark Lord turned and regarded Lucius with a calm, calculating expression. "I am not used to being kept waiting, Lucius."

Lucius stepped further in and shut the doors behind him. He bowed again. Never hurts to be too careful.

"Again, my lord, I can only beg your forgiveness. I shall see it does not happen again."

The Dark Lord turned away, dismissing Lucius' apology with an off-hand wave. Much the same gesture the Dark Prince had made a scant two hours ago. Folding into a wing backed chair away from the fire the Dark Lord hissed for Nagini.

"I hate delays, Lucius. But you know this. I am curious why you have risked angering me. What could possibly trouble you so much?"

Lucius thought quickly. The Prince had forbidden him to speak of the encounter, even to the Dark Lord. It was an impossible situation.

"I had a very troubling encounter, my lord," he began, speaking slowly. "I must confess I have been ordered not to speak of it. Even, I might say, especially, to you."

A thin dark brow rose over the red eyes. Pale lips tightened. "Ordered?" The lips peeled back in the beginning of a snarl.

Lucius bowed again, even lower. "Your forgiveness, my lord, but even you have instructed me to obey this person."

Sharp nails drummed on the chairs arm.

"You speak of my son."

Lucius knew his silence would be correctly interpreted, and also compliant with the Prince's order.

"Is he in danger?"

Lucius frowned. "I… I think not," he knew he did not sound sure. "I can think of nothing, short of Dumbledore himself, or your own person, who could pose any threat to one so skilled." He trailed off.

"But?" the Dark Lord prompted.

Lucius swallowed. "He instructed me not to speak of it, my lord. He wished to speak to you himself. I hesitate only because you have instructed me to obey him and retain his trust."

The nails beat a furious tattoo.

"Very well. Come here, Lucius. As Harry knows full well, you can give me what I need to know without saying a word. Let me see what you have seen."

Draco stood in the sitting room of Harry's suite at Riddle Manor. He felt exhausted but couldn't bear to sit still, so he stood at a bureau against the wall examining a pile of books Harry had left there. These books would never be found in the Hogwarts' library. Harry had left just moments ago to fetch something from the training grounds. The Dark Lord had yet to return to the Manor.

The wait had Draco on pins and needles. He lifted a promising book and flipped it open. Half the words he didn't recognize. Even if he could concentrate he wouldn't make it far in this one. He was just about the put the book down when the door to the suite banged open.

Pain like he'd never felt wracked Draco and brought him crumpling to the floor with a scream! His father had used Crucio a few times over the years, in extreme circumstances, to express his displeasure. But this! This was miles, lightyears, more excruciating.

"No! Please! I didn't… I didn't mean to! Aaaaaah!"

He vaguely registered the Dark Lord's presence and two others besides him. Without even looking he knew them to be his father and his aunt.

"Father, no! Help m—Aaaah!" He knew it was useless to ask. His father would never stand against the Dark Lord, not for anything.

Finally, the spell ended. He lay on the floor, curled in a ball, heaving. He had only a moment's respite, barely enough time to push himself up as high as his knee before a whip, seemingly made of fire lashed across his shoulder and sent him sprawling again.

The Dark Lord walked towards him. "You pathetic worm! I should have ended you years ago. You dared to touch him!"

The whip came down again, and again.

"No! Please, my lord! I never tried—aaaah! I never tried to—!"

"SILENCE! DOG!"

The second Crucio was even worse than the first.

Suddenly the pain lifted and someone was on the floor with him holding him, rocking.

"I'm sorry, Draco! I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

He knew that voice. Knew those hands. Despite himself, knowing who was watching, he reached out and clutched at Harry. His breath hitched but somehow he found he could speak, at least a whisper.

"I..ttt-told you. We sh-sh-shouldn't. I ssssaid…"

"I know," Harry held him tighter and ran a hand over his hair. "I know! I should have been here. I'm sorry. I'll make it right."

Dimly Draco looked up. A bright blue bubble arched over them. A shield cast from Harry's magical core. Nothing could break through that. Not even an Unforgiveable. And he did this without a wand! He could see the Dark Lord, could see all of them, watching through the shield.

Harry pulled back and hissed, running a hand over cuts and welts that showed through rips in Draco's clothing. "Let me…"

Draco cried out and arched his back as spikes of ice drove into him everywhere there was a wound. But in just a few heartbeats the ice melted and he felt the flesh knit back together. Harry even said a quick Reparo on his clothes. It wasn't perfect. They were still ruined. But at least he didn't look like a beggar.

"Can you stand?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Try." Harry shifted to a crouch and started to pull Draco up. "You should at least be standing for this."

Draco's eyes flickered back to where the Dark Lord stood, beyond the shield, glaring death at them. "I don't' think I'm strong enough, Harry." But he was already on his feet. When his knees threatened to buckle, Harry nudged him over so he could reach the bureau again.

"Find the strength, Draco." He brushed a hand across Draco's face then stepped back. The blue bubble dissolved.

For a long, tense moment, Harry stood looking at Draco, his back to his father, gathering all he wished to say, all he had planned to say, tonight even, just not here. Finally he turned to face his father's furious stare. He smiled, tiredly.

"Father. It is good to see you home," he said quietly. "There is something I want to tell you about. Something wonderful!"

He paused. Had this gone the way he'd imagined, with him approaching his father in his study, during a calm, pleasant mood, this was where his father would nod encouragingly and tell him to go on. Now, his father simply continued to glare at him. At least he was no longer looking at Draco.

"I have discovered someone, someone who can, how did you put it once? 'Make a man out of me?'" Harry laughed, a dry, humorless chuckle. His father continued to say nothing. "I would like to tell you about him."

A slight flaring of the nostrils told Harry his father did not approve of that pronoun. But the lifted chin was all the permission he needed to continue.

"His family is unblemished: pure bloods through all recorded lineage. Unwaveringly loyal to our cause. They are rich and powerful, one of the most influential families in England! He has the loyalty of nearly all of Slytherin behind him, and influence over much of Hogwarts as well. He makes even the Ravens work for their marks. Plus, he's witty and clever. Cunning."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Draco. "And he's beautiful."

He saw Draco blink at him in shock.

"He flies like it's a dance with the sky. Silver white hair soft as silk and skin like satin."

Harry couldn't help but smile as Draco blushed and looked away.

"I can't tell you how happy he makes me. How… free." Harry felt a glimmer of surprise in himself as he realized how very true those words were. "I cannot wait to introduce you."

He met his father's gaze, something few other men dared, and none with whom they were on friendly terms. Now he waited, though the minutes stretched long, he stood straight and still and patient as a stone.

Lucius shifted uncomfortably. Bella—he knew her well enough to know she had settled on being angry because she was too confused to let herself be anything else.

At last his father's red lips parted in a sneer.

"And who is this magnificent specimen?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "His name is Draco, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy. Our greatest supporter's only son." He said it with pride.

That pride nearly faltered when his father sneered again.

"It seems I have been too lenient, tolerating the brat. Lucius, you were instructed to keep him from my son."

The blond man paled and bowed, stammering apologies.

"I asked Draco to come," Harry interjected.

His father ignored him. "And now I am assaulted with images of this worm molesting my son. Pinning him to a wall!"

Of course! His father would have seen what Lucius had seen when he walked in. Despite his father's obvious rage Harry laughed. The laugh grew until he threw his head back. It was nearly a full minute before he had himself back under control, but he was still vibrating with mirth. It was just too funny! As if Draco could ever hold him against his will!

"Forgive me, father! I forget myself. You mean this afternoon? When I blocked Draco inside a stingy room in a pub and forced him to reveal feelings he had buried so deep I had to haul them up with a fish hook? When I," he pointed to himself, "held him there and forced him to kiss me?"

He could see the doubt bloom in his father's face.

"Believe me, father, if anyone has a right to be incensed, it is Lucius. As if Draco could ever restrain me! I have at least three times his strength and well over twice his magical ability. He could outperform me on a dance floor, perhaps, but never in a fight. He was far too afraid of you to even tell me how he felt, not to mention actually doing anything about it, but I forced his hand. I had to know."

His father still stared at him doubtfully. Harry stepped forward. "I would never lie to you, father. Never. But if you don't believe…search me. See the truth." He lifted his chin, but not in defiance, rather in submission, offering to let his father use his Legilimency to see what had happened between them.

His father's presence entered his mind, searching. Harry brought up his memory of that afternoon, leaving it all open but bringing forward certain moments. Draco's oddly meek entrance, his pleading for Harry not to ask, Harry blocking the door, Draco insisting the Dark Lord would kill him and that he would disappear, then his own command that Draco kiss him, and how he manhandled the other boy to finally make it happen.

Finally his father withdrew. He seemed…somewhat mollified. At least that was progress.

"I see," he said, though he wasn't happy about it. "If it is a companion that you wish I can procure someone more suitable for you. A Veela perhaps? Or—"

"No, father," Harry cut in. "Forgive me, but no. Even if you bought me an entire brothel of women—or men—from France or Italy or even India, I could never trust them as I trust him."

"Trust?!" his father spat.

Harry nodded. "I trust Draco with my life. If only I took as good a care for his life as he does for mine." He sent Draco another apologetic glance. He had never really imagined his father would have attacked him, tortured him.

His father strode forward, coming within inches of Harry, but he did not back down. "He is not worthy of you!" his father spat.

"Is anyone? Father," Harry sighed, suddenly tired. "I must have someone, even just one person, who is mine. Most of your Death Eaters don't know I exist. Those that do are your most loyal servants. I see no one else, unless I face them in battle. Is one person too much to ask?"

He could see his father considering. "He is belligerent and disrespectful to you. I will not tolerate it."

"He does exactly what I ask of him," Harry replied, "even when I ask too much."

The Dark Lord arched a brow doubtfully.

"Draco," Harry snapped. "Fetch me my slippers."

He heard Draco shift, but he kept his eyes on his father. "Y-your…slippers?"

"Yes." Harry glanced over his shoulder. Draco was staring at him. Harry nodded towards to door to his bedroom. "In there, by the bed. Fetch them for me."

With a nervous glance at Harry's father, Draco slowly backed away and then darted into the room. He returned with Harry's slippers clutched in one hand. Pausing at the doorway, the silver haired youth again gave Harry's father a look as if he were a live snake. An apt comparison.

Had they been alone, Harry would have expected a dramatic, sarcastic presentation of his slippers, assuming Draco didn't just throw them at him. But now Draco walked meekly to his side and held them out.

"Your slippers, my prince."

Harry took them. "Thank you," He tossed them aside. Meeting his father's gaze he grinned. "You see?"

To the side, Lucius twitched and father's gaze flicked in that direction then back.

"He is the heir to an Ancient House. He is obligated to marry and produce an heir. Preferably more than one." The last, Harry knew, was a barb directed at Lucius for only producing one child. "Do you intend to deprive House Malfoy of a future? Or will you give him up to his bride?"

Harry looked aside. He hadn't considered this. He again glanced at Draco, now standing at his shoulder. Draco's eyes were nervous, pleading, but held no answer for this question.

"Surely," Harry said, turning back to his father, "that is between us and this alleged bride?"

His father's lips pursed together again.

"If that is the price I must pay to have Draco at my side," Harry said quickly, "Then I will gladly pay it."

The silence stretched. "How long has this…thing been going on?" his father ground out.

Harry reached out and grasped Draco's hand. "It just began, father. Just today."

His father sneered and turned his gaze to Draco. "So, I saw. But you have had designs on my son for far longer, is it not so, dog?"

Draco cringed back away from Harry but Harry tightened his grip. Draco stammered, "No. No, designs. I mean, I-I've seen…I never meant…"

"And this sniveling coward is to be your paramour?" The Dark Lord swung back to Harry.

"He was willing to bury his feelings forever and then to brave your wrath and face you in person," Harry answered calmly. "That sounds like no coward I know."

"Bah! Look at him! Shivering like a dog! How do you know he even wants you?"

Harry cocked a brow at his father. The very idea of someone not wanting to be with him was frankly hilarious—though a tiny voice deep inside, the one who saw the fear in the eyes of the men he was sent to kill, wondered why anyone would want to be with him. Monster.

"I assure you, father—"

"I want to hear it from him."

All eyes turned to Draco, though Harry glared at his father openly first. Draco twitched with so many hostile eyes on him and stepped back as far as he could with Harry holding his hand. The Dark Lord stepped right up to Draco and tipped his chin upwards, none too gently.

"My son seems to think I should spare you, despite your presumption. He thinks he actually desires you." Clearly the Dark Lord thought little of Harry's choice. "Perhaps you will make him a nice pet. But since this pet can speak, as Nagini speaks to me—though she in infinitely more useful than you could ever be—you will answer me. Do you desire my son?"

He asked the question in a low, silky voice, dripping with venom and even seduction. Draco shuddered. The cold fingers digging into his face made his skin crawl.

"Yes," Draco said firmly. At least his voice was not shaking. The Dark Lord's grip tightened and tilted his head back.

"Why?" the Dark Lord snarled.

"Father—" Harry tried to interject but the Dark Lord ignored him, giving Draco a small shake.

"H—he is—" Draco licked his lips. "Brilliant. A-a-and beautiful." He closed his eyes. Harry saw his face flush and wondered how much was fear and how much was embarrassment. Draco was almost insanely private. "Clever. S-s-strong. He is—He's not—not just powerful, he is power itself."

The grip rose again, drawing Draco onto his toes.

"Father!" Harry protested.

"You think to share my son's power?"

"No!" Draco squeaked.

"You will never share one shred of his power!"

"Father, enough!" Harry grabbed his father's wrist and pulled it down and forced himself between his father and Draco. "Please, father. You know he has no ambitions on my position. It is me he loves, myself alone."

"So you believe." The Dark Lord yanked his hand out of Harry's and whirled away. Almost immediately he spun back and thrust his face close to Draco's. "You say you desire my son. What will you be to him, worm? Assuming I let you live."

Draco looked down then to the side and slowly up to meet Harry's eyes. "Whatever he wants, my lord. I will do, be, wh—whatever h-h-he—"

The Dark Lord circled Draco, looming over him. "You will be his pet?"

Draco flinched at the word, but answered, "yes." Harry almost didn't hear it he was so quiet. Inwardly, Harry fumed at the question.

"His paramour?"

"Yes."

"His faithful servant?"

"Yes."

The Dark Lord completed his circle with a disdainful sniff and made to whirl away from them again. Harry's hand on his arm stopped him after only a step.

"Please, father. I have always obeyed you. You know I always will. I do not think I ask for much. But I ask for this one thing. I want him, father. I want him. Only him."

Slowly his father turned to face Harry.

"What precisely are you asking for?"

Harry suppressed a sigh of relief. If they had gotten to specifics…"I want to grant him guest right. He is free to visit me, here and in the training grounds, whenever he chooses. Let the House Elves serve him as my guest. He is not to be…bothered." Harry gave the last word a weight he knew his father would understand. No Death Eater would interfere with Draco. "That is all I ask."

"I am surprised you don't ask he be given his own suite, and servants besides!"

Harry grinned. "He doesn't need his own rooms. Mine are more than adequate for both of us."

His father stood looking back and forth between the two, considering. "I will not have him drawing you out where you can be harmed."

"No, father. Certainly not."

"Or distracting you from your training!"

"I am your chosen weapon, father. I stand ready, always."

For a long moment, an eternity, the Dark Lord looked past Harry to stare at Draco. Draco kept his eyes down, but his back straight.

"I do not approve of this…relationship, Harry. He is pathetic and you are worth ten of him. But as all you ask is guest right…and he is Lucius' son, after all. Perhaps in time this worm will evolve into something more useful. Very well."

Harry let out a relieved breath and heard Draco do the same.

"Thank you," he said as sincerely as he could manage. "Thank you, father." He smiled up at those red eyes.

Suddenly the Dark Lord stepped forward, aggressively, thrusting his chin over Harry's shoulder to speak into his ear, though his voice still carried through the room. "If he puts one toe out of line, if he endangers you, spoils you, or disappoints you, I will end him."

Harry stiffened. He turned to meet his father's eyes, knowing his own were equally hard and threatening. "You will not. Not unless you hear it from my own lips, said in your presence, to your face."

"Do you challenge me, my son?"

"Never. But he is mine. It is for me to choose if and when I am done with him."

His father sniffed, but straightened and backed away. "You will join me for dinner. Tomorrow. Bring the cur if you wish."

The Dark Lord swept from the room, Bella following with only a quick glance behind. Lucius paused, looking between them, until the challenge in Harry's eyes finally drove him out.

When he was clear Harry waved his hand and the door slammed shut.

Draco sank to the floor.

"Well," Harry said. "That could have gone much worse."

Draco laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. Harry opened a nearby cupboard and pulled out a crystal decanter and two tumblers. He shoved a nearly full glass of firewhisky, only slightly watered, at his friend—boyfriend. He couldn't help grinning at that!

"Here. Merlin knows you earned it."

Draco waved away the proffered glass. Pulling himself up with the aid of the bureau he tottered over and pitched onto a plush sofa. He was still laughing. Harry followed and set the glasses down on a nearby table.

"What's gotten into you?" he demanded.

Finally Draco collected himself. "If that had gone any worse, I'd be dead. Gods, I don't think I'll ever be afraid of anything again in my life."

Unsettled, Harry leaned against the arm of the sofa near Draco's feet. "Well, then, I'm glad something good came out of it." He shifted uncomfortably. "I truly am sorry about—" He gestured vaguely then ran a hand through his hair. "I never thought he'd go that far. I should never have left you. Hell, I should have followed Lucius from Hogsmeade!"

Draco was looking at him with a mixture of understanding and—was that sympathy? Oh, and an obvious dash of I-told-you-so. Now that everything was in the open, Draco seemed to be recovering much of his normal self-possession, even arrogance. Sprawled on Harry's couch, he shrugged. "I've always known you see him differently."

He paused, then seeing Harry's expression sighed and sat up against the far side of the sofa. "To you he's your father. He's the man who saved you and gave you a life, and a damn good one! He's given you everything! You've never had to be afraid of him. He isn't 'the Dark Lord' to you. I know you've seen him kill and torture his enemies, but, have you ever actually believed it? I'm not questioning him," Draco put in quickly, "just—"

"I know, I know," Harry cut him off.

There was silence for a while. Draco broke in quietly. "You know you are more noble than he is." Harry cut an accusing glance at him. Draco merely shrugged.

"Well, at least he came around."

"In a manner of speaking," Draco shot back.

"I said I was sorry!" Harry snapped. He grabbed one of the glasses of firewhisky and tossed back a mouthful.

Draco picked up the other glass and looked at it intently. Harry was reminded that Draco rarely drank; he only took so many chances with Hogwarts rules, something Harry found completely foreign. Suddenly Draco looked up with a small smile. "Forgiven." He tossed back a mouthful and promptly choked. "Just—cough—please don't let it happen again."

Harry nodded and slid down onto the sofa opposite his boyfriend. "It won't. I'll make sure of it. He does keep his word you know."

Draco merely raised a brow and took another, more measured, sip. This time there was no choking. "Did you mean what you said?" he asked.

"I said a lot of things, Draco, could you be more specific?" He was getting a bit irritated and wasn't sure why. He tossed back another gulp from his tumbler.

"About me?" At Harry's wry expression he looked away, but continued. "You said I was…beautiful?" He flushed brilliantly. Was it his imagination, or did the blush make Draco's eyes seem darker?

"You know I don't lie to my father. I meant every word."

Draco was looking into his whisky again. Harry fought the sudden urge to snatch the glass away. Why was Draco staring at his drink when he, Harry, his boyfriend, was sitting right here?

"And to me?"

Harry frowned. "I don't lie to anyone, Draco. You know that. What's eating at you now? We got what we wanted!"

For some reason Draco frowned back into his tumbler. This time he tossed back a respectable mouthful, again without choking. "That…that brings up a…a valid question. The Dark Lord asked…what I would…be to you." He paused. "This afternoon, you asked what I wanted. I meant what I said, to the Dark Lord. I will be whatever you want me to be." He gave a small shudder that Harry suspected he had tried to suppress, and he suspected it was connected to his father's references to 'pets.' Draco continued, "but I would like to know."

He set the glass down and looked up at Harry, more collected and serious than he'd been all day. "What do you want from me?"

Harry locked his eyes into those silver irises and suddenly knew what had been irritating him. Hastily thrusting aside his tumbler he all but lunged across the sofa!

Some minutes later Draco was once again sprawled across Harry's sofa, rather more disheveled now and with a supremely satisfied look on his face.

"You know, you never did actually answer my question. Not in regards the long term anyway. I do heartily approve of the short term answer, by the way."

He watched Harry straightening his robes. Harry also wore a satisfied expression. Merlin, it was nice to actually look and not be afraid of looking!

Harry turned and sank onto the sofa by Draco's waist. For a long moment he merely looked at Draco. Just as it was getting a bit uncomfortable Harry finally spoke.

"Father can be quite old fashioned, but I have to admit I liked his use of 'paramour.'"

Draco raised a brow. "A secret lover?" he asked, considering.

Harry sighed. "He's right. You have obligations to the House of Malfoy. I can't take that from you, when the time comes." Draco noticed his expression darken at the admission, though. "And I know you have a part to play now. I also don't know if father's enemies would target you if it came out about us."

There could be many interpretations of this, many of which Draco knew could cause serious problems. "Meaning?"

Harry sighed in frustration. "Meaning I understand if you have to take a…a girlfriend," he spat. "But here, between us—I have no intention of making you a pet, whatever father thinks! I have a thousand Death Eaters and House Elves to make pets. Not to mention Nagini."

Draco snorted. "Nagini?"

Of course Harry said it in Parseltongue, but by now Draco had learned to recognize a handful of the most basic phrases. Not that he could duplicate them. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Back to us."

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Harry sighed again. Draco had never seen him so out of countenance! "Boyfriend, paramour, partner—whatever. Draco, I want you. All of you. I don't want you to be some kind of… of servant. I'm not hiring you for pleasure," he said with some disgust, "or ordering you to please me like some lackey. I could do that with anyone. I could pay anyone to do that. I want…I want you. I want you to be you, to… tell me when I'm an ass and try to beat me at chess—"

"I could beat you at chess," Draco interjected. "Easily. I've just always felt it more in the interest of my continued survival to let you win."

Harry looked at him askance.

"You'll see," Draco said. "Pray continue."

Harry punched his shoulder, but without force. "I can't lose you as a friend to this, Draco."

Draco leaned up and kissed Harry gently on the cheek. Paramour, huh? That did have a rather romantic ring to it.

"Can I ask you a favor, oh my paramour?"

Harry grinned delightedly. "Ask away, darling," he teased.

Draco snorted, then frowned. There was something he'd always wanted to ask of Harry, but he didn't want him to think this was a joke. He tensed, knowing Harry would notice and said calmly, intently, "I want you to teach me to duel."

A/N: WARNING: this will NOT be a full series fan fic! I am playing with some of Kurionne's characters because they are awesome. I love how this story is turning out, but I am not going to try and re-write Darkness Within. If you want to know how it all plays out, go read her stuff and just imagine it with Harry/Draco instead of Harry/?. I have just a few more scenes for you before I drop this one, and two more characters I hope you'll love.

Feed the Muse! Leave a review! And, go read my actual HP fic, For the Love of Sirius, which is ongoing.