***

See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I don't own them.

This fic was made possible by Avana65's very generous donation in the LiveJournal Help_Haiti auction.

Avana, Bedankt voor je vrijgevige bijdrage voor het Haiti hulp fonds ook wil ik je bedanken voor je geduld en aanmoediging terwijl je wachtte tot het verhaal klaar was. Ik weet het was een beetje laat,maar ik hoop dat het het waard was! (Thanks to Erika for the translation! *hugs*)

The good folks at Help_Haiti are gearing up to do another auction soon, so visit the site (http:// community . livejournal . com / help_haiti) if you'd like to put something up for auction or bid on the great fics, art and other goods that will be available. The devastation in Haiti was phenomenal, and the suffering there will continue long after the rest of the world forgets. If you can donate, please do. If you can't, then thoughts are prayers are never amiss.

*steps down off soapbox so the porn can continue*

***

May 1999

Draco looked up from his letter as Hermione slid onto the bench between him and Harry, her cheeks flushed with excitement. A month earlier, nothing would have been able to distract him from a missive from his father, but now that the new head of Magical Law Enforcement, Tiberius Ogden, had lifted the communication ban, he had a letter from him nearly every day.

Draco felt like he was getting to know his father all over again through those letters. For so long, he'd hated and feared him, forgetting the picnics they'd had when he was a child, the flying lessons, the summers spent in France. Before the second rise of Voldemort, his father had been loving and demonstrative, making it a point to set aside his work from time to time to spend a day alone with Draco, doing whatever the boy had wanted.

That had all changed once Voldemort returned, though. Draco now understood that much of what his father did was due to the forced compliance demanded by the Dark Mark. Even the way he'd pulled away from Draco, sometimes going days without seeing him, even when Draco was home on break, had been to protect his son. He'd hoped that if he limited his contact with Draco that Voldemort wouldn't pick up on his fear that his son would be forced into servitude, but the Dark Lord inevitably had seen through his ruse and used Draco as a tool against him.

Draco tucked the parchment under his plate, leaning forward expectantly to hear whatever had gotten Hermione so excited. Through their correspondence, he'd learned that despite the fact that his father hadn't wanted Draco to become a Death Eater, he did support most of Voldemort's ideals, including believing that witches like Hermione were substandard somehow. Having gotten to know her over the last few months, Draco could say with certainty that his father was wrong on that count. Hermione was one of the smartest witches he'd ever met, and he'd grown to like her immensely. He'd even come around to tolerating Ron.

"So I was in the library –"

"Shocking," Harry drawled, sounding so much like Draco that even Hermione, irritated at the interruption, had to smile.

"As I was saying, I was in the library, researching Legilimency-controlled bonds, when I came across an exciting discovery I think you'll want to see."

Hermione was applying to Exeter, one of the only universities to offer a Mastery course in Dark Magic. She'd been interested in the Department of Mysteries ever since fifth year, and after seeing the Unspeakables in action working on Harry and Draco's bond, she'd been even more intrigued. Kingsley had strongly hinted that the Mastery course might help her gain entrance into the clandestine group, and she'd been determined to complete the prestigious university program ever since. She was even writing a thesis for her application, focusing on Legilimency-controlled bonds. Harry and Draco were graciously allowing her to use them as guinea pigs for her experiments, so her exuberant appearance at breakfast hardly surprised either of them.

Harry rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his porridge. Hermione had made more than a dozen "exciting discoveries" over the last few months, and Harry had found exactly none of them actually exciting. Still, he was more than happy to help her, especially since he wanted her to get into Exeter. He and Draco would both be attending the university in the fall, Harry for its Healing Mastery and Draco for, surprisingly, a course of study in wizarding law. The unfair treatment his father had suffered had inspired Draco to become a solicitor himself, with an eye toward using his education to help reshape the Wizengamot when he claimed his family seat. Members had to be at least thirty-five years old to sit on the Wizengamot, and Draco planned to use the time to start a law practice that provided representation to witches and wizards who couldn't afford solicitors.

"Maybe you're right," Hermione said, an uncharacteristically wicked smile curving her lips when Draco, too, lost interest and went back to his letter. "I can see how you wouldn't be the slightest bit intrigued by the fact that it's possible for Harry to change your Mark, Draco."

Two heads snapped up at her words, but Hermione pretended to ignore them, continuing on with a small shrug.

"How silly of me to think you'd want to replace that ugly tattoo with something different," she said, reaching for a muffin and pouring herself a cup of tea.

She didn't even have the chance to stir in the milk she'd added before both Harry and Draco were up, tugging on her arms to pull her to her feet as well. She went willingly, laughing at their excitement. It was exactly the way she'd felt when she'd first found the passage that talked about changing a Mark.

"What do you mean, replace it?" Harry asked when they'd secured themselves an empty classroom where they could talk freely.

"Just what it sounds like," she said, digging in her bag for the book. Technically, it wasn't allowed to leave the library, but she didn't imagine Madam Pince would mind in this case.

Harry and Draco leaned over her shoulder, scanning the text. It was written in an archaic dialect, the pages thin as onion skin and yellowed with age. Still, the illustrations made it abundantly clear that Hermione had found a way to transform Draco's Mark.

"You can't remove it completely, and there are a few more parameters," Hermione said, carefully shutting the book and returning it to her bag. "The tattoo may be larger but cannot be smaller than the existing Mark. You can't move it, either. It has to stay where the original Mark was."

Harry nodded, green eyes bright with excitement. He loved Draco and wasn't bothered in the slightest by the Mark, but the ability to change it to something different – something that represented their love and not some madman's symbol – was almost too good to be true.

He glanced over at the blond, who was still numb with shock. Draco had long ago accepted that the Mark was a permanent part of his life. He'd even come to like it, after finding out that it was a link to Harry rather than Voldemort. Still, the ability to change it – he shivered a bit with excitement, his swirling grey eyes lighting at the thought of being free from the reminder of the evil wizard.

"So, what do we do?"

***

Draco studied the picture of the dragon preening on the page, his brow furrowed dubiously.

"You want to change the Mark to this, all because there's a rumor I have a tattoo of a dragon floating around school? A dragon, Harry? Really?"

Harry nodded, pulling the book over to himself so he could rifle through the pages.

"Yes and no. The rumors – which say it's a Hebridean Black, by the way – made me think about you having a dragon, but that's not the one I'd choose for you. And I know, it's a bit trite, you having a dragon of all things. But just look at it. I like this one, the Ukrainian Ironbelly. It's perfect."

He flipped the book around, showing Draco the image of the large dragon, with silvery grey scales that had the same startling depth as Draco's eyes. It was beautiful, and looking at it made Harry think of the beautiful blond who would be wearing it.

Hermione's research had found that although they couldn't move the Mark or make it smaller, they could make it a different color. By choosing such a lightly colored dragon, Harry explained that he hoped the tattoo wouldn't stand out so starkly against Draco's pale flesh. He didn't mind that Draco carried the Mark – actually, the thought of being an active participant in Marking Draco this time around made his heart speed with arousal – but he had on occasion wished it was easier for him to hide should he so choose. The light-colored dragon wouldn't draw the amount of attention the Dark Mark did.

Draco's original skepticism faded as Harry outlined his reasoning, a warm feeling of being cared for flooding though him at the thought of Harry choosing this particular image in an effort to make carrying the Mark easier for him.

"Best of all, Dragons understand Parseltongue. I know Hermione thinks the Mark responds to it because the spell that gave it to you was done in Parseltongue and not because it's a snake, but what if she's wrong? I don't want to lose this," he said, slipping into Parseltongue on the last word.

Harry hissed softly, making the snake on Draco's arm slither down his arm, wrapping itself around his wrist and squeezing rhythmically. Draco's mouth went instantly dry at the implication – Harry had often used his Mark during sex, but never this blatantly. The possibilities had him hard in seconds.

"Ukrainian Ironbelly it is, then," he said, his voice slightly strangled as Harry's hand worked its way into his lap.

***

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Harry asked Hermione, looking up from placing crystals in a circle.

Hermione had said the spell would work best if it was done in a place that had significant emotional meaning to both parties, and Harry and Draco had agreed that the meadow behind Hagrid's hut fit the bill perfectly. The stones had been Hermione's idea. They not only helped form a protective barrier around Harry and Draco, who would be focused on the spell and not their surroundings, but also strengthened the privacy wards Harry would erect before they started, ensuring that no one stumbled upon them. The last thing they wanted was Rita Skeeter blanketing the front page of the Daily Prophet with photos of Harry performing a dark spell.

He'd petitioned Kingsley for permission to do the spell, and the Minister had agreed with the caveat that they not tell anyone how they did it. Harry had been more than happy to agree, since both he and Draco were intensely private and unlikely to share this moment with the public, anyway.

"Er, no. I may have, uh, left a few things out when I was telling you about the spell," she said, a blush slowly creeping over her face.

Draco snickered. Though she hadn't told him, either, he'd been able to figure out what they'd be doing based on the precautions she'd advised them to take and the ritual robes she'd had Draco procure. Only one type of magic used robes like these, and he'd had several sets in the Malfoy Family vaults at Gringotts. Not that he wanted to imagine his ancestors using them.

"It's sex magic, Harry," he said, enjoying the way Harry's eyes widened and Hermione's blush darkened. "The robes? The crystals? The oils? Sex magic."

She nodded, busying herself with arranging the oils they'd need later, studiously ignoring why they would need them.

"It has overtones of the ancient branch of magic known as Connubium Magus, yes," she said, fidgeting with the cork on the phial of almond oil.

"That's a fancy way of saying sex magic," Draco mock whispered to Harry, who was also blushing.

Hermione took a deep breath, thrusting the phial she'd been holding into Harry's hands.

"Fine. It's sex magic. Which is why you need this," she said, nodding to the red-stoppered phial. "It's straight almond oil. The others are for anointing, but this one is for later – after. Don't use any of the others for that. Understand?"

Harry nodded, glaring over his shoulder at Draco, who was still snickering at their obvious discomfort. Hermione rolled her eyes, checking to make sure her notes on the spell were lying on the blanket before packing up the rest of her things and standing.

"It shouldn't be hard for you to translate that into Parseltongue, Harry. I transcribed the Latin into English for that part. The rest is in Latin, since you'll need to cast in that."

She stepped gingerly over the crystals Harry had placed, not making eye contact with either boy as she turned to leave. She'd known all along what they would have to do to complete the spell, of course, but knowing it was different from knowing it, standing there fully aware that they were naked beneath the dark purple robes they wore in the clearing she'd helped them prepare that would later be used for sex.

"Red-stoppered phial is lube, got it," Draco smirked, turning serious after both Harry and Hermione choked out a laugh. "Thank you, Hermione. You've worked so hard on this. Thank you."

She waved off his words, tucking her quill into the messy bun at the nape of her neck. Her part in the ceremony was finished, and now she'd head back in the dorm, anxiously awaiting their return. She doubted she'd see either of them before dawn, despite the fact that it wasn't quite sundown yet. The amount of magic needed to manage the spell was enormous, and that, combined with the predictable effects of the sex magic, would likely leave them exhausted afterward. It was one of the reasons she'd insisted on the protection circle, since it would give them a relatively safe refuge to sleep and renew their energy afterward.

"I meant what I said yesterday," Harry said, shooting her a crooked smile. He hadn't understood why Hermione didn't want to observe the ceremony, since it was integral to her thesis, but now it was clear why she wasn't staying. "About the Pensieve memories. Of everything, if you need them."

She shook her head, her blush rising again.

"Just the ceremony itself," she said, fidgeting with her necklace. "I'll leave you to it. Good luck."

They waited until the moon was rising through the twilight-colored sky before lighting the bonfire Hermione had helped them build. The firelight danced across their purple robes, the smoke spiraling into the lush darkness above them.

Harry looked down at their joined hands, giving Draco's a reassuring squeeze.

"Ready?"

Draco swallowed and nodded, dropping Harry's hand and fingering the fastener of his robes. The ceremony consisted of several intense rituals, and they'd have to do them perfectly for the spell to work. There would be no more talking until after his Mark was transformed, aside from chanting spells.

He shivered slightly in the cool night air as his robe slipped off his shoulders, pooling at his bare feet. He took a step closer to the now-roaring fire, letting the warmth surround him. Harry knelt in front of him, his own robe falling from his broad shoulders as he shrugged out of it, revealing tanned skin that shone like gold against the backdrop of flickering flames.

Strong hands gripped Draco's forearm, putting the Mark on display. Harry laid a hand over it, concentrating as he incanted the purification spell Hermione had helped him learn. All of the spells they were using were wandless, which, in light of what he now knew about the ritual being classified as sex magic, made a lot of sense.

"Defaeco corium. Defaeco ossis. Defaeco cruor."

He bent his head, laying his lips over the Mark, which heated and writhed at his words and his touch. For the spell to work, Harry had to cleanse the Mark of all of Voldemort's magical signature, which was what the ancient ritual they were now engaged in would do. The first wave, the spells he had just wandlessly cast, literally purified Draco's skin, blood and bone. Next, he'd use a mixture of essential oils to anoint the purified skin, further eradicating any trace of Voldemort's magic.

Not releasing Draco's arm, he uncapped a phial of oil on the ground next to him one-handed, pulling the cork out with his teeth. He repeated the incantation over and over again, his voice rhythmic and mesmerizing, as he poured the carefully formulated mixture over the Mark.

The sharp tang of ginger made his nostrils flare, and he heard Draco hiss as the pungent oil began to seep into the skin of his forearm. Hermione had warned them that this wouldn't be painless, though she had assured Harry it would not be anywhere near as painful as the original branding. Draco hadn't cared, proclaiming that whatever the physical cost, it would be worth it to have the Mark transformed. Harry didn't quite agree, but he trusted Hermione.

Now he wasn't so sure, as he watched the cords in Draco's neck pop, his jaw set tightly to prevent himself from crying out. Beads of sweat covered his forehead, his face and chest flushing as his body temperature rose. The arm in Harry's grip became noticeably warmer, like Draco had a raging fever.

Steady in his resolve, Harry simply held Draco's forearm tighter as the blond began to shiver, his body wracked with shudders as his body reacted to the fever. When the Mark seemed to take on a life of its own, writhing violently against Draco's skin, Harry uncorked the second phial, a mixture of angelica, eucalyptus, hyssop and juniper oils.

He continued his steady chant, his fingers digging so deeply into Draco's forearm that bruises were already blooming. It was essential that Draco not move during the ritual, however, and Harry wasn't willing to let all the pain he'd already experienced be for nothing. They'd finish this, and then he'd spend the rest of his life making it up to the blond. He hated being the cause of Draco's distress, but there was nothing for it.

The Mark sizzled almost inaudibly with the addition of the cleansing oils, and Draco bit back another moan of pain. His shudders stopped as the angelica took effect, the faintly pleasant smell of the eucalyptus masking the smell of burning flesh. Harry moved quickly, dropping the phial and using both hands to massage the oil into the Mark, helping it penetrate Draco's skin. As soon as the tattoo stopped undulating, Harry tugged hard on Draco's arm, forcing him to kneel with him.

Grey eyes dulled by pain opened as soon as his knees hit the ground, locking on Harry's. Draco resisted the urge to look down at his Mark, wondering if the flesh was as seared as it felt. Instead, he stared into Harry's eyes, drawing strength from the love and determination he saw in them.

Harry let his gaze sweep down to Draco's forearm, using the snake on his arm to switch seamlessly to Parseltongue. He felt Draco stiffen as he began to speak, and he hoped it was due to the strangeness of hearing Harry casting spells in Parseltongue rather than because his pain had worsened. Hermione had assured them the worst part would be the purification and cleansing rituals; the actual transformation of the Mark should merely be uncomfortable, not outright painful.

Harry relaxed slightly when he felt the rigidity go out of Draco's arm as the pain began to wane. He swallowed, continuing to command the Mark in words only he could understand. It seemed like a bunch of nonsense to him, but he trusted Hermione, and if those were the words she thought he should use, then he'd do it, as odd as it seemed to him.

The stilted, formal words rolled off his tongue with some difficulty, since Parseltongue was, on the whole, an informal language. The Parseltongue lexicon was about a fourth of its English counterpart, which meant Harry sometimes struggled for the right phrasing while trying to translate Hermione's spell. Still, after several minutes of repeating the incantations, the Mark began to bend to his will, tendrils of ink breaking off and writhing independently.

Harry took a deep breath, pausing in his incantation as he met Draco's eyes once more. For Draco, the hardest part of the ritual would be the pain; for Harry, it would be the Legilimency that he had to perform. Even with all of Draco's Occlumency shields dropped in preparation, Harry knew it would be a struggle to enter the blond's mind. They'd practiced this part for the better part of the last week, but Harry seemed to have a natural inclination against Legilimency. Blaise, who had surprised Harry by taking over his training when Draco became frustrated with his lack of progress, had theorized it had to do with Harry's deep-seated sense of fair play. Throughout history, he'd told Harry, very few Gryffindors had managed to become accomplished Legilimens. While that bit of trivia had done much to assuage Harry's fears that he was an inadequate wizard for not being able to master the art, it didn't do anything to help the current situation.

Harry tilted his head back, closing his eyes and centering himself. He focused on thoughts of Draco, of what he wanted to accomplish by entering his mind. With one more deep breath, Harry opened his eyes, staring unblinkingly into Draco's.

"Legilimens," he cast, throwing every bit of his magical energy into the spell. He nearly fell as he felt the rushing sensation of entering Draco's mind, tamping down on his euphoria at succeeding lest the thoughts cause him to lose his focus.

Long seconds passed as Harry pushed images of the tattoo they'd agreed on, a stately looking Ukrainian Ironbelly with glistening silver scales and proud, glowing green eyes. In the wild, the dragons had red eyes, but Harry had liked the idea of Draco's tattoo being a blend of the two of them. He didn't dare break eye contact with Draco to check on the transformation; he knew there was no way he'd regain the connection if he allowed it to slip. As it was, it was taking all of his concentration to stay inside Draco's mind, keeping the images he pictured at the forefront of both of their consciousnesses.

Draco could feel the ink twisting and slithering along the skin of his forearm. It didn't feel that different from the way the Mark moved when Harry manipulated it during sex, but the residual pain thrumming through him from the cleansing ritual prevented his normal response. He concentrated on keeping his Occlumency shields wide open, welcoming Harry into his mind. He had no compunction about using Legilimency himself, but that just illustrated the fundamental difference between him and the dark-haired wizard. Although he was free to be himself now, no longer under the controlling shadow of his father or the Dark Lord, he was still a Slytherin at heart. He had no problem acting in his own interest, and as a skilled Legilimens, he relished in the power of being able to mold another person's thoughts. Of course, he never trespassed without permission, finding himself quite reformed since the horrific events at the end of the war as well as his relationship with Harry, but knowing that he could was a thrill.

When the movements on his forearm ceased, Draco flexed his arm, letting Harry know the last phase of the ritual was complete. Harry withdrew from his mind quickly, blinking as he cleared his own head. He looked down when he heard Draco's gasp, his own breath catching as he saw the beautiful silvery tattoo that stretched most of the length of Draco's forearm, its tail teasingly wrapped around the blond's wrist like a glistening, scaled bracelet.

Remembering Hermione's instructions, Harry fumbled on the ground for the last phial of oils, a blend with clary sage that would ease the last of Draco's discomfort and end the ritual. He poured it over the new tattoo, spreading the bitter-scented oil over the Mark. The dragon twitched slightly under his fingers, almost preening at his touch. Draco shivered as arousal swept through him, responding immediately to the calming properties of the oil paired with Harry's touch.

Ritual ended, Harry sat back on his heels, feeling enormously drained by the wandless spells he'd been casting for the last half an hour. His exhaustion didn't prevent his cock to twitch with interest when Draco straddled him, erection pressed against Harry's belly, and captured his mouth in a rough kiss.

Draco's body thrummed with energy, a feeling of euphoria heightening his arousal until it reached a point that neared painful. He rutted against Harry's belly, his cock slipping easily against warm skin wetted by the precome that had leaked out of his slit. Harry groaned, parting his lips to deepen the kiss as Draco thrust his tongue into his mouth, a white-hot bolt of arousal shooting through him as Draco whimpered against his lips.

Though the ritual was finished and speaking was allowed, Harry had no words for how he was feeling at the moment. Love, arousal, elation, possession – what seemed like hundreds of feelings swirled through him, leaving him desperate to meld with Draco, to sink inside him until they were joined as one. He growled as Draco's breathing sped up, not wanting the blond to crest without him.

Eyes nearly black with lust, Harry flipped their position, pinning Draco to the cold ground as he covered his body with his own. He growled, nipping at the soft skin of Draco's neck and making Draco buck up, frantically seeking the friction he'd lost when Harry moved them.

Acting purely on autopilot, Harry hissed out a rough command in Parseltongue. The dragon shuddered against Draco's forearm, slithering up over his shoulder and then winding its way down his torso, coming to rest against his hip bone. Draco's eyes widened as Harry hissed again, his heart slamming at the purely wicked look in Harry's eyes. Seconds later, he felt the dragon's tail wrap around the base of his erection, pulling tight, preventing him from coming even as he arched his hips and ground against Harry's cock.

Harry swallowed the sound of Draco's frustrated whine with a kiss, wandlessly Summoning the bottle of pure almond oil Hermione had left for them. He reared back, holding the phial to Draco's lips so the blond could grasp the cork in his teeth. Instead of opening it, though, Draco licked the cool glass, his tongue darting out to slide along the phial. Harry groaned, the provocative sight going straight to his cock. He straddled Draco, sitting up to open the phial himself. Once he had it open, he poured the sweetly scented oil into his palm, smirking at Draco as he wrapped it around his own cock, pumping several times before Draco's hand batted his away, long fingers sliding over the sensitive head and blunt thumbnail pressing against the slit. Harry pulled himself out of Draco's grasp, coating his fingers in the oil that had pooled on Draco's belly and reaching behind himself to press them against Draco's puckered entrance.

Grey eyes slid shut as Harry massaged the sensitive flesh, stroking it teasingly before sliding two fingers inside, working them in up to his first knuckle before adding a third. Draco ground against his hand, forcing the fingers deeper as Harry roughly fucked his hole with his fingers. With the dragon's tail still wrapped around his cock he could feel his arousal building past where he usually peaked, and he whimpered as the heat of his release continued to grow in his belly.

His eyes flicked open when Harry removed his fingers, pink lips pressing together to hold back his groan as Harry pressed into him, his cock easing slowly into Draco's tight heat until he was fully seated. Before he started to move, he brought his hand, still slicked with oil, around to stroke Draco's erection, making the blond whimper again. Harry pistoned his hips in a few leisurely, teasing strokes before giving in to his own arousal and picking up the pace, pounding into Draco with almost brutal force that had Draco crying out with pleasure.

Harry's hand moved faster against Draco's cock, and just before his own orgasm overtook him, Harry hissed out another command to the dragon, which promptly released Draco's cock. Thick spurts of come coated both their bellies as Draco came, his channel clenching around Harry's cock and sending him over the edge as well. Neither noticed as the dragon made its way back to its perch on Draco's arm, too caught up in the throes of their orgasms.

Harry collapsed against Draco as the last of his orgasm ebbed, his exhaustion returning twofold as his muscles quivered with exertion. He pressed a kiss against the side of Draco's neck, rolling to the side so he didn't crush the blond.

Above them, twilight had given over to a crisp, starry night, and Harry marveled at the way the tiny pinpricks of light seemed to almost pulse along with his slowing heartbeat. Beside him, he could hear Draco's harsh breathing, nearly in time with his own. He felt grounded, centered. At peace, both with the world and with himself.

"So, the Mark," Draco said, breaking the silence with a chuckle. "At least we know it still responds to Parseltongue."

***

June 1999

Laughter bubbled in Draco's chest as he watched Harry clobber Ginny, claiming the ribbon she'd had tied around her hair as his prize before jumping on his broom and taking to the air, the redhead hot on his heels. Draco mounted his own, leisurely following them. He no longer even had a moment's hesitation before picking up his broom, a fact that filled him with elation. He had Harry to thank for that, as well as for his newfound ability to sleep more than a few hours at a time and his general overall happiness.

He leaned forward on his broom, putting on a burst of speed to catch up to the giggling duo. He tucked his head, protecting his face from the early summer breeze that was already making his cheeks pink with cold, since summer's warmth came so late to their corner of Scotland. Far from feeling chilled, though, he felt exhilarated, warmed from the inside by the thrill of flying.

Catching Harry's eye, he swooped in, holding his hand out to grab the ribbon that was dangling from Harry's outstretched fingers. Ginny shrieked in delighted fury, changing course to pursue Draco instead. He grinned, laughing along with Ginny as he gracefully swept into a dive, pointing his broom down and spiraling toward the ground. As the cold ground rushed up to meet him, he didn't know even a single moment of fear. He pulled up short just before he would have crashed, his feet skimming against the still-brown grass to slow his descent. He hopped off the broom, letting it fall to the ground as he took off running, losing his breath when Ginny stopped her broom a meter above him and jumped off, tackling him.

A year ago he would never have imagined he'd be wrestling on the grounds with a Weasley and enjoying it. Six months ago, he'd have been breathless from panic rather than joy at the thought of riding a broom. The changes Harry had brought about in his life were nothing short of amazing, and Draco marveled that he'd managed to do the same for the other boy. Watching Harry glide to a graceful stop in front of them, his eyes full of laughter, took the rest of his breath away. When the dark-haired boy pounced on Ginny, pinning Draco between her and the wet ground as he reached for the ribbon, Draco mused that this must be what true friendship felt like. What love felt like. It felt overwhelming. It felt right. It felt a lot like absolution.

*End*

A/N: I have a few things to pimp, so feel free to disregard if you aren't interested. *grins*As always, take the spaces out of the links. *kicks FanFiction's stupid link policy*

First of all, you can follow me on Twitter if you care about the antics my gorgeous kiddos get up to (I swear, my 3 year old is a Slytherin in the making!) as well as updates about stories and general bitchings about life. It's a locked account because I don't like my Tweets being indexed (can you tell I'm married to a Libertarian IT guy? *snickers*), but follow me and I'll approve you, so long as you're not a bot. Find me at: http://www. twitter . com / dracosoftie

I'm also on LiveJournal, though all my fics aren't up yet and I'm slowly getting them all posted. Friend me and I'll friend you. Turn out to be under 17, and I'll unfriend you. So be old enough to be there, please. I already skirt the line here on FF enough, so let's not violate the TOS on another site too, K? *cuddles* Find me at: http:// dracosoftie . livejournal . com

I've also started a new quasi-obsession (because clearly, sinking most of my sparse free time into writing porn wasn't enough! *headdesk*) making photo manips and icons. You can find them on both my LJ account and my Photobucket account. Feel free to use anything I post there. Crediting me for the manip and/or dropping me a line to let me know you've snagged one is always appreciated! http:// s912 . photobucket . com/home/dracosoftie

And last but not least, a few fabulous gals and I have started up something called Kink Club. I'm awed by my fellow Kink Clubbers, including Digitallace, Dysonrules, FaeryQueen07 and a bunch of other great authors you'll love. This is an NC-17 locked LiveJournal community, so you have to join and prove you're not a young'un, but I promise it's worth the hassle – we're spinning the big wheel 'o kinks weekly, taking turns writing smoking hot fics incorporating the gamut of kinks, from exhibitionism to blood play with a bunch I won't mention here at the risk of getting banned. *smirks* So come on over and join the Kink Club! You won't be disappointed. http:// community . livejournal . com/kinkclub