Disclaimer: All features of the HP universe are the property of the official and licensed copyright holders, including but not limited to JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and Scholastic. This endeavour is one for fun not profit.

A/N: This is actually the 2nd story I've written, but it's been on hold for a while. Since I'm waiting for inspiration to strike and help me work through the kinks in another fic (The Chosen), I thought I'd pick this up again and see what I could do with it. For now this piece is unbeta'd…I'm sure there'll be errors. Feel free to point them out in your review (hint hint) That said, I hope you'll enjoy!

/indicates thoughts/

WARNING: This story is SLASH (involving male/male relationships) and will be MPREG (male pregnancy) in later chapters if this isn't your cuppa then please don't bother reading.

1.

Ever so lightly, so not to disturb the resting man's slumber, he traced over the deep circles under closed eyes and cheekbones more defined than they should be. His lover looked so tired. They were tired; all of them, exhausted really, months and months of skirmishes and minor battles had taken their toll. Those who fought Voldemort's armies were weary to the bone, their magics stretched to their limits, their bodies long past that point. And in none was this exhaustion of spirit more evident than in his lover. It seemed with every name added to the rolls of the honoured fallen Harry withdrew further into himself and the pain of misplaced guilt. The spark that lit his brilliant green eyes dimmed more each day, and no matter how many of his friends and supporters assured him that the carnage wrought by Voldemort's Death Eaters and opportunistic allies was not his fault, no one had succeeded in rekindling the flame in the man so many willingly followed and trusted to put their world to rights. The man who for many was more symbol than flesh. It angered him that they didn't realise, or didn't care, how deeply his lover felt, how much the violence and death marred his soul, how he found no peace in the cleansing release of tears because they needed him to be strong. Not that he allowed himself tears either, but that was different. With their hope and expectations, even with their love and adoration, they'd made Harry untouchable, inaccessible to himself and unable to be the very man they needed.

Who was Harry Potter if he could not mourn for the loss of life? Could not reconnect with the gentle strength of his soul? Could not remember that there was more to war than hate and pain the pain of knowing he'd been forced to destroy corrupted lives to save innocence, to reclaim a world where love and laughter could thrive. He hated them all sometimes: the armies of light, the armies of darkness, Voldemort, Dumbledore, the innocents in need of a hero...Damn their greed and their need! There were days he wanted to wrap Harry up in soft silks and downy duvets, and carry him away from all of it. Hide his precious one away where no evil could maim him, where the expectations of honour and duty could not burden him. Keep him safe from the world and live where only they mattered only their love existed.

He sighed. For as much as he often wished he could give in to his daydreams, he knew the very things that made his lover, the man to whom he'd surrendered his heart and soul, the man he was were those things that would never allow Harry to give up. Even when it seemed all hope was lost Harry would keep fighting with everything he had--because he believed.

Draco snorted /Reckless Gryffindor courage and a fool's hope/

Harry told him once there was a Muggle expression that God watched over babes and fools. Draco Lucien Malfoy was not a deeply spiritual man, but he hoped it was true. That the fates and all the world's gods and goddesses, that the very spirit of the Earth would watch over his beloved, would continue watching over him. After all it had to be more than luck that'd ensured Harry's survival through their years at Hogwarts.

Deep in his musings he didn't notice when bleary green eyes opened, then sparked with alert wary intelligence. Waking slowly, gently coming to consciousness was a luxury of days long gone. To be a good soldier meant having one's faculties readily available, and in the field, true sleep was for the careless.

"You're brooding," the emerald eyed man said softly, propping himself up on his elbows.

Startled but too well trained by the expectations of his class, and too used to hiding his reactions and emotions, Draco merely nodded, "Astute observation Potter, keep on like that and we won't need strategists and clairvoyants anymore, we'll just rely on you to divulge the enemy's next moves."

"Pompous arse," Harry smiled gently and pulled his lover down to lie with him, "so tell me since you only get really snarky anymore when you're pissed, what's happened?" He kissed the corner of Draco's pale pink lips.

The blond sighed and laid his head on Harry's shoulder, "Sorry. It's just...They've...the..."

Harry nodded his understanding, his own sorrow surging, "Reports came in and the lists are up?" It wasn't a question. "Who is it?"

He forced his voice through his constricting throat, around the lump that some days felt like a permanent fixture, "A good quarter of the Amphiptere team flying in to help a village under siege by Dementors--ambushed by rogue dragons. Most didn't know what hit them. Burned right out of the sky. Marcus Willmann, Haipeng Li, and uh--P-Pansy Parkinson were leading them in."

He didn't call attention to Draco's slight lapse in steady recitation, respecting his lover's need to maintain the façade of emotional control; he merely clutched the grey-eyed man closer to him. Arms strengthened and scarred by battle wrapped round him tightly trying desperately to offer a small space of safety and security in a world being torn apart. He said nothing as he kissed his lover's temple and rocked him gently in his arms. He knew Draco was hurting. The Amphiptere, Amphisbaena and Naga teams were mostly comprised of former Slytherins convinced to turn their backs on their families' alliances with the Dark Lord. Young men and women Draco had personally recruited, rallied, and convinced--encouraging them to put aside childish divisions between houses, and unite with those who opposed Voldemort because it was right, and because it was the best way to ensure their futures (they were Slytherins after all and cool logic along with the explicit delineation of profit either via status or material gain was always a consideration).

Haipeng, Harry knew, had been a favoured 3rd year Draco had taken under his wing in their 5th year. Harry didn't know him well, but assumed Draco felt for Haipeng much as he felt for Colin Creevey. Marcus had been on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and one of the best flyers at Hogwarts. And Pansy--Harry sighed. Pansy, who loved Draco, and would have followed him anywhere. Pansy, who taught him the meaning of true jealousy, the young woman he'd always secretly feared because by right of the contractual agreement drawn between pureblood parents, she had prior claim on Draco. He owned Draco's heart yes, but had things been different, had there been no war, Pansy could easily have pushed the betrothal contract into effect, laying claim to Draco's body, and the right to be by his side. He could still see so clearly the confrontation that both sealed their rivalry, yet declared Harry the undisputed winner, which forced them into an uneasy truce.

It was the night of the Halloween ball their 6th year, Harry had made special plans. Knowing Draco would be making the rounds at the ball for at least an hour, he put in a token appearance, made his excuses to Ron and Hermione, then slipped off to prepare "their" room--a small unused classroom/storage area in what seemed to be a hidden corridor where they'd been meeting in secret since the previous year. With Dobby's help, a small feast for two was spread on a low table set on the lush carpets Harry'd transfigured from the room's discards. He'd set candles floating everywhere, and warded the room for privacy and security. It was the night he'd planned to give himself completely to his lover--heart soul and body. When Draco entered the room his face lit up, then fell abruptly as he realised his lover wasn't alone.

"Oh Draco, c'mon you know you want to. It's not that long until we'll be married anyway, you know you want me. You wouldn't have snuck off tonight if you didn't want me following you." The somewhat harried Slytherin had tried to close the door on his persistent "girlfriend," but not before she'd caught sight of the candle filled room. "OH! Draco, this is so perfect!"

She shoved her way past the usually unflappable Malfoy-heir, then shrieked loudly when she realised they weren't alone. A highly embarrassed and very red faced Harry Potter, clad only in a light dressing gown, was sitting on the floor pillows gaping at her. "Uh-um hello Pansy. Um H-happy Halloween?" Harry stammered, running a hand nervously through his already hopelessly tousled hair.

Pansy shrewdly surveyed the room, the turned to Draco, "WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!" She continued to scream shrilly at him for a good 15 minutes. Harry didn't recall much, mostly things about broken promises, the wrath of her father, bringing shame on the House of Malfoy and pureblood families, filthy catamites--basically the kind of homophobic crap Harry expected from the more bigoted muggle-world, not the wizarding community where bisexuality and same-sex partners were a common enough thing that no one really batted an eyelash to see two girls or two lads together. But then again, Pansy Parkinson was a frustrated debutante faced with losing a promised alliance to one of the best "catches" of the pureblood wizarding world, so he figured he could see where some venom might be expected.

Draco suffered the harangue with a look of absolute boredom, then when Pansy had run out of steam calmly asked her if she were quite finished with the hysterics, shocking her and Harry both to gawping carp impersonations. He gracefully sank to the floor beside Harry tipped his mouth shut, then brushed his cheek with the back of his elegant ivory hand.

"I'm sorry for the disruption Mine."

Holding Harry's fearful emerald eyes with his own, he spoke dismissively to the young woman still shocked and fuming by the door.

"Pansy, in the cradle our parents made plans for us that had nothing to do with who we would become, or what we would want and need when we came of age. I suggest you take some time to decide who you need to be and stop living your life as your father's puppet." His voice softened as he continued to caress his lover's face, "as for me. I have made my choice. Harry is the only thing I need. The only one I'll want for my whole life. He is everything Pansy."

Finally tearing his eyes away, Draco fixed the girl with a hard look and spoke, his voice glacial,

"We have been friends a long time Parkinson. Good friends. But know this; I will destroy anyone and anything that tries to come between Harry and me. There will be no animosity between you and me. If you can accept Harry Potter as my chosen, the alliance between the Houses of Parkinson and Malfoy will stand. Move against Harry and I in any way and I'll bring you down."

Draco sneered, "Remember Parkinson, yours is a failing house. Your father, uncles and brothers have managed your dwindling finances quite poorly. You have the benefit of your pedigree, but no holdings, money, power, or position to recommend you. Do you really want me as an enemy?"

Draco raised an aristocratic brow then gestured with his chin. "See yourself out. Obviously, other plans have been made for me this evening, ones I plan on keeping," and without another word he turned and devoured Harry's mouth, nipping and licking the full lips he so adored, revelling in the taste of the young man who'd broken through his defences and set his chilled heart to blazing. /Let them come. Let them all come. For this I will fight anyone, do anything. I'm not Draco Malfoy, heir to one of the largest wizarding fortunes, and Prince of Slytherin House for nothing./

Heat surged between them, fuelled by his anger, his need to possess to protect, to claim. He pulled at Harry's dressing gown, ruthlessly ripping the fabric and tossing the material away then clawed at his robes desperate to be free of the clinging fabric, wanting to be skin to skin, then finally. Oh finally. They were blessedly relievedly naked, sun drenched ivory and honeyed cream, and no matter how many times Draco'd felt Harry against him, every single time those strengthening arms tightened around him, he felt as though he'd come home.

In a lull between bucking strength and friction, teasing nips, delicious kisses, roaming hands, talented tongues, and mad brilliant fingers, Harry stretched, reaching behind some of the cushions for a small tube, "Dr-Dray," he panted, desperately trying to catch hold of one or two of those funny little things--yes thingies--words though he was rather confident they were pretty much lost in the mush that was his brain at the moment, "Dray. wait. wa-wait stop."

Caught in a lust filled haze it took several tries before Harry could make his lover understand what he needed, and finally only by firmly grabbing the pale young man's ears was he truly able to catch his lover's attention.

"Ow! Harry, why did you do that?"

He rubbed his reddened ears and cast a pout at his lover, which Harry thought wholly adorable, and it very much made him want to continue sucking and nibbling on those pouting lips. He pushed that thought away though. They only had so much time tonight. And the time was right for what he wanted.

"Sorry Dragon, but you were a little over-focussed, and I need you to be here with me for this."

Sobering, Draco moved up and lay beside his lover, "What is it?"

Harry blushed and handed over the small tube, "I-I. Your fingers are good, but I--I'm ready for more"

Something indefinable flashed in Draco's silver eyes, "Harry are you sure? We've waited this long. I don't have a problem waiting longer. I want you Mine. Merlin's beard--I want you so bad, but you have to want this. You have to be ready Harry. Really ready."

Harry took Draco's hand and brought it up to his mouth kissing each finger gently. Then sucked his index finger into his mouth whirling his tongue around the digit and wetting it well. He lowered Draco's hand, guiding it to his body's entrance. Heavy lidded eyed and a sweet seductive smile graced his face, "I'm ready Draco. I love you."

It had been tender and passionate and sweet, and oh so wonderful. Indulging in a small smile Harry shook himself out of that cherished memory. If he'd had any doubts about the man now in his arms, that night put them to rest. In Draco Malfoy, against all reason, Harry Potter had found the one true love of his life. And in this time of war, when everything was fleeting and uncertain, he knew he was blessed to have this one constant, this one truth. No matter what happened, their love would endure. It was his private truth though; there were a few other things he knew for certain. One being that death would continue to come for those who deserved life, another that he was failing in protecting the world that had come to depend on him.

They had not been able to locate Voldemort, and the attacks by Death Eaters, rogue dragons and werewolves and mercenary giants were decimating villages, towns, and families. It seemed no where was safe and that the attacks occurred at random. Their strategists, Hermione and Draco among them, were convinced that the Dark Lord was working to weaken the strength of the resistance and the morale of the wizarding world in general, so that should the Order and Ministry be defeated, he'd have a pliant people--too terrified to strike back in any way. Voldemort wanted a people broken, and the only way to stop it was to stop him completely.

Without the lure of the Dark Lord's power, his mercenary army would retreat, and his Death Eaters would be too busy scrambling to maintain a leadership hierarchy to defend against an all out attack. But they were tired now, two years of fighting, and running, and some days it seemed never ending. The love shared in that hidden room at Hogwarts seemed like a lifetime ago. And so many lost since then. Lost too damn young, never having known love, or the joy of a family, or the security of a life where evil wasn't waiting to swoop down and destroy it all in a moment...and what was he, the oh-so-great Harry Potter, supposed "saviour" of the wizarding word doing?

"Brooding and putting blame on yourself that doesn't belong there." Startled he looked down at the man resting his head on his shoulder.

"Was I talking to myself again?"

Draco chuckled, "No but I can always tell when you're getting down about yourself."

He propped himself up, and placed a gentle kiss against his lover's mouth, "we've both had our turn at brooding tonight. You know as well as I do it doesn't do anything but make us both miserable prats, so come off it and come cheer me up instead."

"Cheer you up?" Harry's voice was thick with suspicion.

"Mmm," Draco teased a lick against Harry's lush mouth. "Yes, cheer me up Koma."

It was Harry's turn to chuckle and Draco delighted in seeing the sparkle in his lover's eyes if only for an instant, "You are a horny bastard."

"True. But you love me anyway, Mine."

Harry nodded, the weighty veil of fragile mortality once again obscuring the fire in his eyes, "I do. I do love you, Draco. So much." He clutched his lover tightly, almost painfully, "You know that right? You know I love you."

Draco closed his eyes and traced expressive fingers across Harry's face and through his riot of raven hair. "I know it Harry. Just like you know how much I..."

"Yes." Harry kissed him; it was okay, for now he didn't need the words. He wanted them someday, and he knew Draco tried. But overcoming a lifetime of emotional reticence was a long process. It was hard for his Dragon to use words like 'love' out loud. Hell, Harry was pretty sure that until they'd gotten together no one had ever told Draco they loved him.

He might not be able to use those words, but his touches spoke of passion, devotion and adoration more eloquently than any poet Harry'd ever read. Someday though, Harry was sure his lover would say the words, and it would be beautiful, powerful, and complete him in ways that he'd yet to imagine.

Tbc…

A/N 2: On nicknames: Koma meaning lion From Koma Inu, mysterious and mythical lion-headed dogs that serve as Temple guardians in Japan and China. Muggles have statutes of these creatures guarding the temples of various Buddhist deities, especially those of the bodhisattva Monju, as their use became more secularised these statues were also placed to guard tombs, palaces, and the homes of dignitaries. Like many other magical creatures, oh like unicorns, sphinxes, manticores, and basilisks, they are myth and legend to muggles, but I'd fashion a guess that they really exist in the wizarding world. A ferocious lion with the tenacity and loyalty of a canine seems an apt nickname for Harry. Don't you think?