Jordan Grant

Owned (HP/DM) -- Post 74

Sat, 03 Jan 2009 23:49:12 GMT

Owned (HP/DM) -- Post 73

Mon, 22 Dec 2008 02:05:27 GMT

Owned (HP/DM) -- Post 72

Tue, 16 Dec 2008 02:31:30 GMT

Title: Owned
Rating: Adult
Summary: The Malfoys have always been owned by the Potters. HP/DM. Deathly Hallows compliant although the epilogue is ignored.
Warnings: Slavery, dominance/submission, slash, angst, romance. Since this story spins off of canon, Harry's in a relationship with Ginny when we begin.
Disclaimer: Based on JK Rowling's Harry Potter works, the full canon except the DH epilogue. No infringement intended and not for profit.
Feedback: Yes, please.

---- This story is based on a prompt provided by lothy.
---- Latin incantation and translation provided by fabula_rasa.
---- Owned banner art by quill_lumos.
---- Thanks to triomakesmehot, quill_lumos, hogwartshoney and clauclauclaudia for the feedback and valuable comments.

"I thought I'd never get you alone," murmured Draco against Harry's neck the moment they arrived in the living room. His tongue began to lap at Harry's pulse point. "Mmm. You taste good--"

Laughing, Harry disentangled himself. "Upstairs, Draco."

"What's upstairs? Everything I want is right here--"

"The new tub, that's what." Harry grinned. "We can wash each other all over, and then I'll--"

"Oh, no, no," said Draco huskily as he caught at Harry's cuff and began to slowly, sinuously, move his fingers up the length of the sleeve. "Don't you understand, my Harry Master? I want to be the one to serve you tonight. All night. My only goal is your pleasure. I want to make you scream with it until your voice goes hoarse and all you can do is purr for more."

Harry's knees went weak again. "You . . . you're--"

"Your slave," whispered Draco, moving his lips to the skin just above Harry's collar. His tongue bathed the hollow of Harry's throat, and then he began to suckle the tender flesh there. "Don't say that we'll bathe each other, Harry. Let me do everything for you, hmm? I want you just to lie back and let yourself be drowned in a haze of pleasure--"

"All right," said Harry, his voice by then nothing but a high whine of need. He'd never seen Draco be so forthright, so sexually bold-- wait, wait . . . he had, actually, but it seemed like a long time ago now. Draco used to act like this sometimes before he'd recovered his memory.

Back when he didn't understand himself to be anything other than Harry's slave.

"You-- you--" Harry cleared his throat and wondered if he should just shut the hell up. By then, Draco was pulling Harry's shirt from his trousers, lifting it up to bare his chest. "You're different--"

"And you're beautiful," Draco moaned. "I don't know how I sat there through all those dessert courses, when the only thing I wanted was you, my most beloved Harry Master--"

A wave of warmth washed through Harry. Granted, "beloved" wasn't the same as "I love you," but it was definitely a step in the right direction.

Draco began rubbing his cheek against Harry's left nipple. "I almost fell to my knees, right there in my parents' garden. I wanted your cock so much I thought I was dying for it. I told you why, too. I've finally been set free."

"I like you free," said Harry huskily, his fingers carding through Draco's fine strands of hair.

Draco rose to his full height again and looked Harry in the eye. "You need to understand. It's not that I don't remember him any longer. It's just that . . . well, I'm with you, now."

"I like you with me."

Draco chuckled. "I like it too, Harry. If you really want to see this new tub, you'd better get us upstairs before I get these trousers off you--"

Just like that, Harry clutched Draco to him and spun them about to Apparate to his bedroom. He'd have appeared directly in their remodelled bathroom except for the annoying fact that with wizard construction, he wasn't sure exactly where it was.

The room that greeted him, however, barely resembled the one he remembered.

"Oh. My. God," said Harry weakly, looking around. For an instant, he wasn't even sure he was still in his own house. His bedroom was an absolute shambles. It looked like a hurricane had swept it. The walls that used to separate his bedroom and bathroom seemed to have shattered; there were bits of plaster everywhere.

Draco raised a single eyebrow. "I thought you said you'd hired wizard carpenters."

"I did--" Harry gulped and reached for the phone on his night table. "I have to call Hermione and see what's been going on here--"

Draco gently took the phone away from him and set it back down. "It's Christmas, Harry. Don't pester her tonight. Tomorrow's soon enough to sort this out."

"But-- but--" Harry cast a doubtful look at his bed, covered in bits of plaster. "I suppose we could clean up and sleep here. Or in your room, though at this point I'm almost afraid to see what's been done in there."

"I'll check," said Draco. "Back in a second."

That was almost literally true; Draco whirled on a heel to vanish, then appeared again almost at once.

"Worse," he said, shrugging. "It looks like the closet exploded."

Harry winced. "The firm I engaged came very highly recommended. Er . . . are you sure you don't want to go back to your room and sort it out?"

"So you can call Hermione after all?" Draco smirked. "Yes, I'm certain."

Damn. Sometimes, Draco knew him really well. Too well.

"Why don't we go back to the manor?" asked Draco lightly. "Take my father up on that offer of a suite, hmm?"

Harry couldn't help the shudder that coursed through him. He'd had enough of the Malfoys for one evening. But if Draco wanted to return . . . "Um . . . well . . ."

"I was joking, Harry."

"Really?"

"Yes." A wicked grin lit up Draco's features. "Though I will admit, there's some appeal to the notion. Indulging my passion for you right under my father's nose, sleeping in so late that he'll have to walk in on us, naked and tangled together . . . perhaps another time, though."

"Another time," echoed Harry weakly. "I suppose we could go to Raven's Crag--"

"No," said Draco sharply. "I don't know that I'll ever want to return there, Harry."

"Sorry--"

"Don't be."

Harry looked around the room and sighed, but not because of the mess. What had possessed him to suggest the home that Draco had shared with Nikolai? Had he just wanted to see if Draco was fully set free from the past? If so, he had his answer, didn't he?

"A hotel, then," Harry said, trying to sound cheerful. He had a feeling he'd failed miserably.

"I told my parents that I wanted a night at home, and I meant it." Stepping closer, Draco slowly stroked the back of his hand down Harry's cheek. "We've slept downstairs before, hmm? The two of us curled together on your couch? That sounds wonderful to me."

"We'll transfigure it to be a little bigger, this time."

"I liked being snuggled close to you. That whole evening was . . ." Draco sighed. "Very romantic."

Harry knew what he meant, but on the other hand, he was surprised to hear Draco put it that way, considering that their night on the couch had started with Harry using a belt on Draco's bare arse. Of course, Draco used to like playing those kinds of games with Harry, but he didn't any longer . . . or did he? Should Harry press the issue, now that Draco was alluding to it?

Or should Harry let Draco be the one to make all the moves? That made some sort of sense . . . except for one thing: since Draco was naturally submissive, what he might really want was for Harry to take charge of things!

"I know that finding your house in shambles must be very upsetting," said Draco in a soothing tone, evidently misunderstanding the look on Harry's face. "But if you'll come downstairs with me, I promise I'll make you forget all about it."

He reached for Harry's hand and gave it a slight tug.

Harry doubted that he'd forget all about what was really on his mind, but he still let himself be persuaded to leave his wrecked bedroom.

''''''''''''''''''

"There, now this is very romantic, isn't it?" asked Draco as he finished transfiguring a set of glasses into candles. They were already lit as they popped into existence, which Harry had to admit was some pretty flashy magic.

"Very romantic," echoed Harry, though he'd personally rather have regular light. Candlelight was nice on occasion, but not when it just reminded Harry that Draco wanted to pretend he was with Nikolai.

Or . . . was that what he was doing, really? He'd just gone on about how he'd accepted that what he had with Nikolai was over. He'd said that he was with Harry now, and he'd sounded all right with that fact.

More that all right. Happy, even.

So perhaps the candles were just habit at this point.

Harry could hope so, anyway. He managed not to sigh when Draco shut off all the regular lights, plunging them into near-darkness.

"Now, where were we?" asked Draco in a sultry voice, approaching Harry from the back and wrapping both arms around him, his fingers playing with Harry's shirt buttons but not undoing them. "You wanted a bath, you said?"

Harry blinked. "But the tub's not ready--"

"Mmm, I noticed that." Stepping even closer behind Harry, Draco laid his lips against the side of Harry's neck, his breath warming the skin just above Harry's collar.

"And the downstairs loo only has a shower--"

"Mmm, I noticed that, too." Draco's voice sounded husky with amusement. "I live here, Harry."

Harry couldn't help his reaction, then. "You don't mind it? I . . . I mean, even after the new tub is in, my house is still . . ."

"Still what?"

Harry swallowed, wishing he hadn't said anything. "Well, it's hardly a manor."

Draco lightly nipped at the top of his ear. "It's my home now, Harry. Didn't I just say so?"

"I know, it's just--" Harry waved a hand vaguely around.

"It's snug." Draco licked his ear, his voice low and husky as he spoke against it. "And it's very you. I'm very pleased that I fit into your life, Harry. I like being your slave. Did I mention that? I love it."

Harry suddenly wished he had something to clutch to keep from falling. Since he didn't, he leaned back against Draco. The other man's warmth soaked through his clothes, making Harry feel even more languid and relaxed. "I love you, too," he gasped without thinking.

Draco just chuckled. "I'm happy that you do. Now, about that bath?"

"But--"

Draco licked him again, one broad swipe across the back of his neck. A delicious shiver coursed down the length of Harry's spine. When Draco spoke again, that same shiver climbed back up. "My, you are a bit slow, Harry Master. I'm trying to say that it would be my pleasure to bathe you. With my tongue, all over. My very great pleasure, I'm sure. If you will permit me?"

"Yeah," said Harry, his mind spinning. He didn't think he'd ever witnessed Draco being quite so seductive, and considering all they'd done, that was really saying something. "But it's been a long day and I might be a bit sweaty in places, er . . . cleaning charm first, maybe?"

Draco's hair brushed Harry's shoulder as he shook his head. "I want your taste. Don't you understand? I want you. And . . . I need to serve you, Harry. My mouth is watering at the prospect of licking your feet."

Oh, God. Harry collapsed completely, his legs giving way beneath him, but Draco caught him with one strong arm and held him upright. "You like the idea as well, I see," he drawled. "Well, let's do this properly. It wouldn't do to let you get cold."

The room began to warm.

Draco pulled Harry over to the couch and pushed him down onto it, then knelt on the floor and lifted up his feet. Before he could begin to take off Harry's shoes, though, he winced a little.

"You don't have to kneel," Harry said instantly.

"My wand is poking me." Draco drew the length of birch out of his pocket and carefully laid it aside. "I love to kneel to you, though."

Harry was suddenly struck by the fact that Draco's new wand was made of birch. It seemed an appropriate choice, considering how much he liked to be birched . . . he wondered what had happened to the hawthorn wand, though. Harry hadn't seen it for a long time; Draco always used his new wand.

But then, the hawthorn wand probably didn’t work well for him, now that Harry was its master.

Master . . .

Huh . . . Harry becoming the master of Draco's wand almost seemed like foreshadowing, now that he was master of the man himself. And Draco had accepted that willingly, just as the wand had.

All thought was lost when Harry first felt the tip of Draco's tongue against his instep. It should have been ticklish, but it wasn't. Instead, Harry's foot began to feel bathed in warmth. Draco laved the entire bottom of first one bare foot and then the other, and then kissed his way over to Harry's toes.

He made small noises of pleasure as he suckled them.

"God, Draco--"

Draco moved to rub his cheek against the bottom of Harry's foot. "No, just Draco. Your Draco."

"My Draco," moaned Harry, slumping down on the sofa even more.

As the candle wicks crackled, casting dancing shadows on the ceiling, Harry found out what it was to be worshipped. There was no other word for what Draco was doing, really. Licking him all over, literally, slowing peeling Harry's clothes away to bare more skin.

With my body I thee worship, the vow came to him. It was like that, and when Harry closed his eyes and let sensation take him away, he could imagine that it was a vow like that binding them together. He could imagine that Draco loved him.

It wasn’t even difficult. Draco, Harry thought, was acting like a man in love.

"Your turn," said Harry at one point, gasping, his cock straining because of course, Draco had licked everywhere but there. He was intent on drawing out the pleasure for as long as possible, but Harry couldn't stand it. He wanted to throw himself on top of Draco and grind against him as he licked the other man's neck. Three good thrusts, or maybe two, and Harry would shatter, covering Draco's cock in come--

"No, not unless you command it," said Draco, lapping lightly Harry's chin, trailing a wet path down the front of his neck and onto his chest. "I want to keep serving you."

"Then do it, damn it," Harry groaned. "God, Draco. Lick me where it fucking counts--"

Draco closed his mouth around a nipple and pulled hard.

Frustrated, Harry grabbed the man's head and shoved.

"Pushy, pushy--"

Instead of going where Harry wanted, though, Draco latched onto the hard ridge of Harry's hipbone and kissed it languidly.

Harry was about to lose his mind. "Draco," he whined, his voice cracking with need.

"You've no idea how lovely it is to serve you," said Draco, turning his head to rest his cheek against Harry's groin. Every time he spoke, the words brushed against Harry's weeping cock. "I could keep this up all night long."

"I can't. I'm about to come!"

"I noticed that, as well." Draco's voice was smug. "I bet you've never been this hard for anyone else."

"There isn't anyone else," gasped Harry. "There's just you and me and you're driving me out of my mind--"

"Mmm, well if you want something else, you shall have to command me--"

Harry thought he had, but it seemed to him then that Draco wanted a more direct kind of command. "Suck me, slave," he groaned, digging his hands into Draco's hair to drag him the short distance to Harry's cock. "Suck me off, now, and if you know what's good for you, you'll make it good and swallow every drop and beg for more and-- aaaahhh!"

Draco's mouth when it surrounded him was everything Harry could ask for. Hell, everything he'd ever wanted. The heat, the suction, the sheer damned skill . . . not to mention the way Draco threw himself into the task. He licked and sucked like Harry's cock was the tastiest treat ever to enter his mouth, and he was determined to savour every little ridge and fold of skin.

Harry tried to hold back, to let the wet pleasure of the blow job last just as long as had the tongue-bathing the rest of his body had received, but it was a lost cause. Draco had teased him for too long, with words and kisses both, and now that his talented mouth was worshipping Harry's cock, it was just moments until Harry was ready to explode.

"I'm . . . I'm . . ."

"Mmmm," said Draco around his mouthful, bracing his hands on Harry's thighs as he knelt between them.

His fingers squeezed, tugging lightly at the dark hairs scattered across Harry's thighs, and that was all it took to send Harry spinning over the edge. He shouted as he came. Something incoherent, he was sure, but he heard a high ringing in his ears, so loud that he couldn’t even hear himself properly.

And he saw stars.

Draco's mouth worked him, milking every drop, his tongue lapping at the tip of Harry's cock even after Harry's shudders had long since ceased. He was gentle about it, though, as though he understood exactly how sensitive Harry's cock would be after a climax like that.

"You're fantastic," said Harry finally, tugging on Draco's hair to pull his mouth off him. This time he was less frantic about the tugging, though.

"My line, I believe," drawled Draco. "What else can one say about ambrosia? Only that I need more, I suppose."

"More?" Harry gave a weak laugh. "You just sucked me dry."

"But you told me to beg for more." Draco trailed hand down Harry's chest, and then began to play with the limp cock before him. "And I do so love to obey you, Harry."

"Seriously, a blowjob from you is better than being high on drugs."

"And when have you ever been high?"

"Undercover to bust a smuggling ring," yawned Harry. "Had to fit in, didn't I?"

"Oh, the perils of being a top Auror." Draco smiled and dropped a quick kiss on the top of Harry's cock. "You know what's quite odd?"

Harry sat up a little. "What?"

Draco's glance up at him was full of wonder. "I always thought that being completely naked while you were clothed was the more slavelike posture. But . . . I feel just as much the slave now, even though you're the one wearing nothing."

It was a completely innocent comment, but it still reminded Harry how selfish he was being. Strangely enough, part of that felt all right to him. Draco had wanted to serve him, and Harry had wanted to be served . . . nothing wrong in any of it, even though it put Harry's pleasure first. The master in him liked that. Liked it a lot.

It reminded him of the times he'd come twice before he'd allowed Draco any release at all.

More than before, it struck Harry as somehow right that the spell had placed him fully in control of Draco's ability to climax. It just . . . it fit.

"Well, you are my slave," he drawled. "Perhaps I'll have you suck me off again before I turn in."

"As you wish," said Draco, bowing his head.

"Then again, perhaps I'd like a better look at you," added Harry. "Stand up and strip. Slowly. I'm in the mood for a show."

Draco rose to his feet without a word and began to sway.

Harry reached for the remote and hit the button that would play some instrumental music.

A smile on his face, Draco adjusted his striptease to the sultry music, peeling off his clothes in perfect tempo to the slow beat.

The only thing wrong with the show, Harry thought, was that it was really too dark in the room to see well. Still, he could see enough. Draco's pale skin by candlelight; his taut, muscled stomach; the length of his lean legs.

And his cock, jutting out from a thatch of pale golden curls. Talk about a tasty treat!

Harry was determined to draw this evening out, though, to make it as good for Draco as it had been for him, even as he satisfied Draco's clear desire to be treated as a slave.

"Play with yourself," ordered Harry, his voice almost a rasp. "Play with your cock. But . . . don't forget your bollocks. Give . . . give me a good show."

Draco reached down and feathered the back of his hand along his cock, then pulled it upwards to fully display his tight sac. He palmed his balls, moving closer to Harry as he rolled them between his fingers. His free hand began stroking his cock, still held out of the way. "Like this, Harry Master?"

"Pinch your nipples," Harry ordered harshly. It was all he could do not to spring up from the couch and bite them. The way Draco was following his every command . . . it made Harry hunger for dominance, made him want to play their old games again.

Play them in earnest, complete with rousing slaps to Draco's backside, and then the belt, and maybe even the crop--

Draco threw back his head and moaned loudly as he obeyed Harry's last command and pinched his own nipples.

"Harder," demanded Harry. "Bruise them."

Draco's nipples flushed red in the candlelight as he squeezed harder and dug his nails into his own flesh. "Mmmm, good--"

It obviously was. Completely nude and standing just a few feet from Harry, it was easy to tell how much Draco was enjoying himself. When he pinched his nipples hard enough to cause pain, his cock gave a rather large twitch.

Then, a glistening drop welled forth from the tip, Draco moaning again as he thrust his hips several times, as though straining to find purchase against something.

"Keep squeezing your nipples," ordered Harry. "But one hand back on your cock, slave. Wank yourself. I want to watch you come."

Draco's eyes, long since closed, flew open. "But I can't--"

"Are you arguing with me, slave?" Harry stretched out his arm and fished through his clothes for his wand. "Accio oil."

A bottle from the kitchen flew into his hand. Cooking oil . . . not the massage oil he'd had in mind, but it would do. In fact, making Draco use this was rather appealing. It seemed . . . raunchier, somehow.

Standing, Harry dribbled the oil over Draco's chest, watching as it flowed downward, pouring more oil on until it had coated Draco down to his thighs. A lot of his dripped on his carpet, but Harry didn't care.

"Do it," said Harry, wishing he could slap Draco to underline the command. Instead, he forced himself to sit down again and watch. "You're here to please me. I want a wank show. Play with yourself until you come screaming my name."

Draco didn't argue again, though he must have known that he couldn’t possibly obey that last part. Or at least, not without Harry's help. He clearly liked being commanded, though. Grasping his cock in one hand, he began to pump it with firm, steady strokes, while his other hand alternately teased his bollocks or pinched his nipples.

"Harry," he moaned as he worked himself. "Harry Master. For you, my Harry Master. Anything for you, just for you--"

Which gave Harry a very raunchy idea. "Just for me, eh?" he asked in the most evil voice he could muster. "Anything for me? Well, you're a vision, but what if I want my friends to enjoy the show, eh? What if I ring them up, right now?"

He knew his instincts were right when Draco's cock practically leapt at the suggestion.

Not that Draco would really want Harry to do it. In fact, Harry was sure that he wouldn't like that at all. But clearly, he found the idea incredibly hot.

"Close, are you?" asked Harry a few moments later.

"Harry!"

All right, not really a scream . . . more like a keening wail, but it sounded desperate enough that Harry wasn't going to quibble. "You need me, don't you?"

"Need-- need to please you," gasped Draco, wanking himself so hard and fast that he'd chafe himself before long, even with the oil.

Harry stretched out on the couch and crooked a finger. "Then come here and do it," he purred, stroking his own cock. Not that it needed much help. Halfway through Draco's wank show, Harry had been back to full hardness. "Don't forget the oil."

"I'll wank you, shall I?"

"No. Climb on." Harry grabbed Draco's hand the moment the other man set the oil aside, and pulled him to lie on top. "Make love to me, slave."

"Mmm, master." Draco began to move against him, slowly at first, his hips pumping in the same steady rhythm that he'd used to wank himself. His hands, though, were tangled in Harry's hair, pulling him close for a kiss.

The oil between their bodies made everything so slick that it was it bit difficult to get the perfect rhythm going. Once they did, though, their cocks grinding up against one another . . . Harry threw back his head and gasped.

"Do I please you, master?" asked Draco, his voice smug as he jerked his hips a bit more sharply.

"God, yes. Like that," babbled Harry. "And that. And there. And . . . oh, yessss--"

Draco didn't stay smug for long, though. The rhythm began to control him instead of the other way around. The candles flickered and went out. And then Draco was groaning, his voice rife with need. "I . . . Harry. I need you, need to come--"

Harry managed to get himself back in charge of the situation, though he couldn't have said how. Inside, he was nothing but a mass of gabbling need. To make this good for Draco, though, he pushed himself outside that and put a hard tone over his gasping voice. "Your master first, slave," he retorted, rolling his hips, savouring the way he could make Draco shudder. "You're here for me. For me. Don't you dare forget that, or I'll whip you 'til you're raw, I will--"

Draco clutched Harry's shoulders, his fingers tightly curled, and begged. "Let me come, let me come-- oh, fuck, Harry, if you don't let me come I'll fucking well die!"

"You can come when you've satisfied your master, slave--"

Crushing his lips against Harry's, Draco began to thrust frantically.

Harry let go of everything, then, and felt a crashing wave of lust carry him to its crest. He began to convulse, the orgasm rocking through him so strongly that his calf muscle began to cramp. Good thing, too. The sudden pain distracted him just enough that he was able to think about something besides his own shuddering cock. "Come with me," he said against Draco's mouth.

Draco broke off the kiss, panting as he thrust once more, then twice, before he collapsed onto Harry and clutched him, his lower body spasming as he reached a climax.

"Fuck, that was hot," he said when the spasms stopped. "I don't know how you do it, Harry."

"Um . . . " Harry cleared his throat. "My leg's cramping. Could you get off?"

"All right, your bedroom manners need a little work," said Draco, laughing as he rolled off the couch, landing on hands and knees on the floor before he sat up, cross-legged. Grabbing his wand, he flicked it to re-light the candles. Then, he peered intently at Harry. "Listen, when your lover tells you what you just did was hot, you're supposed to return the compliment."

"It really hurts!" complained Harry.

Draco was instantly more solicitous. "This one?" he asked, beginning to massage Harry's upper thigh, rising up on his knees so he could get the leverage to apply strong pressure.

"Yeah, but below the knee."

Draco's strong fingers worked the kink out, expertly seeking out the tight places in the muscle.

"Oh, good. Yes," said Harry with relief. "Er, sorry about that. Bad timing. But you were hot too, you know. That wank."

"Best wank you've ever seen, hmm?" Draco sat back on his heels.

"Only one I've seen."

"I must say, I don't mind at all being your only man. Never used a mirror, though?"

Harry blushed a little, remembering. "Well, I've tried, but when I get really into it, I forget to look."

"Oh, that's no way to develop a visually stunning technique," said Draco with a straight face, though his voice held a smirk. "Kiss my nipples better, would you? They're quite sore."

Harry was happy to. He even offered a healing spell, but Draco waved that off, saying that he liked feeling the reminder.

The couch really was too small for two, but as Draco had said, snuggling together was enjoyable, so Harry didn't suggest again that they enlarge it.

All they needed was one thin blanket to keep warm, since Draco's charm was still in effect. They cuddled together for a while, exchanging lazy kisses. Harry put the candles out just before they dropped off to sleep, curled into each other's arms.

He'd have thought twice about sleeping nude in his own living room if he'd known what was going to happen in the morning, though.

His only warning was the loud crack of Apparition.

It startled him awake, and his Auror-honed reflexes roared to life. Grabbing his wand from the table where he'd set it after dousing the candles, he jumped to his feet, every muscle tensed in anticipation, even as he swept Draco behind him to protect him.

Draco clutched onto Harry from behind, the blanket falling to the floor. "Wha--"

"Harry!" gasped Hermione, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she stared. "I . . . oh, dear. I'll come back later--"

She was obviously about to whirl in place when another crack startled her out of her concentration. Ron, following close on her heels.

He gaped when he saw Harry standing there naked, wand still at the ready, Draco still behind him. "You're supposed to still be in Canada, mate!"

"Change of plans," said Harry tightly, snatching up the fallen blanket and doing his best to wrap it around both himself and Draco.

"Good morning, Hermione, Ron," said Draco in what was, under the circumstances, a very dignified voice.

"Er . . . good morning," echoed Ron, his eyes widening as his gaze swept the room. Harry thought he was probably doing it to avoid looking at them, but considering the state of the room, he decided he'd rather Ron had kept his gaze on them.

Clothes scattered everywhere, oil stains on the carpet, the damned bottle of cooking oil lying on its side on the floor! It looked like Harry and Draco had had some kind of orgy the night before.

Which wasn't far wrong, Harry had to admit.

"We were just trying to get here before the carpenters," babbled Hermione, her own eyes clenched shut. "I'm very sorry, Harry. We really never imagined you'd be . . . er . . ."

"Here," finished Ron diplomatically, recovering first. Stepping gingerly around the oil bottle, he pulled Hermione into his arms. "We'll come back in half an hour, eh? But the carpenters could be around sooner, so you might want to get dressed."

As Ron prepared to spin them both around, Harry couldn't resist. "Next time knock!" he called out, before sinking down to the couch and collapsing into laughter.

"You're all right?" asked Draco, grimacing as he looked around. He soon had his wand in hand and was setting the room to rights. He handed Harry a pile of cleaned clothing before he began dressing himself.

"Yeah." Harry was still laughing after he was dressed. "I suppose I deserve it, really. I did interrupt them during a private moment, recently. I'm just glad I didn't hex Hermione."

"I'll never forget how you protected me from the ferocious invader," said Draco, batting his eyelashes and simpering. "My very own Gryffindor."

"Well, I didn't know it would be Hermione," said Harry, grinning. "I wonder what she meant about the carpenters, though. It's Boxing Day! Nobody works on--"

"Oh, please. Isn't it obvious?" Draco pointed toward the stairs. "They bollixed it up somehow, or ran into trouble with their spells, and--"

Harry blinked. "Oh. Probably some spell interaction because of the special warding on this house. I should have thought of that."

"Yes, you should have, I think. At any rate, Hermione let them take Christmas off, but my guess is that she absolutely insisted they not leave the clearing up any later than that. Not surprising that she'd get her way. The woman can be quite fearsome when she sets her mind to it." Draco flashed Harry a grin. "I certainly wouldn't want to cross her. Learned my lesson on that score, I have."

"She wouldn't slap the carpenters," said Harry, chortling.

"Well, no, but of course there's the other thing."

"What other thing?"

Draco stared at him. "Well . . . you're Harry Potter. It's a privilege to work for you, I'm sure. Even on Boxing Day. Come to think of it, they probably wanted to work on Christmas and Hermione had to dissuade them."

Harry scowled. "They did not."

Draco leaned over and pecked Harry lightly on the lips. "Don't be that way. They probably did and you know it. It's just reality, Harry. You'll never get anywhere pretending you aren't who you are."

"What I am, you mean."

"What you did is much more the issue. Those silly titles the papers gave you wouldn't mean a thing to anyone if your own actions hadn't made them true."

"What actions? A disarming spell?" Harry scoffed. "Right. Very impressive, that."

"Well, the speech you gave actually was." Draco smiled. "Even I was impressed, and I wasn't in much of a mood to find anything about you impressive, not then. The public knows it was more than a disarming spell, Harry. It was everything you did that led up to it. Destroying those Horcruxes, one by one, including the one inside yourself. Don't say that what you did wasn't impressive."

"Well, I had help."

"Plural you, then. The Golden Trio."

"I hate that one worse than The Chosen One."

"Well, I shan't use it again, then. Do you fancy anything in particular for breakfast? I'll cook for four and surprise your friends when they return."

"I think they've had enough surprises for one morning," said Harry as he got up to follow Draco to the kitchen.

"It could have been worse," said Draco philosophically. "It could have been the carpenters popping in without notice. All things considered, I'd say you have good friends. Giving up their Boxing Day to make sure the workmen don't filch souvenirs from your house? But of course, I'd do the same."

"You would?"

"Of course." Draco grinned as he deftly sliced a tomato. "They might nick my things by mistake. Er . . . I don’t suppose we've another bottle of oil? If not, I should rethink the whole idea of a fry-up."

Harry felt really good about what he was able to say to that. "What happened to thinking like a wizard, eh? Summon some and find out if there is any."

Draco made a face, but followed the advice and soon had the tomatoes sizzling. A knock on the door sounded as he was adding rashers of bacon to another skillet. "Most likely the carpenters. Shall I admit them?"

Harry pulled him away from the counter and kissed him thoroughly. "You're my lover, Draco, not my butler."

"You're forgetting the slave bit--"

"You're my bound companion," said Harry firmly. "Nobody's business but our own exactly what the binding was. I'll answer the door."

He almost wished he hadn't, since it turned out to mean a fair bit of hero-worship. Mr Potter, so pleased to meet you, we couldn't believe it when we were asked to work on your home. It's such an honour we wish we could do the job for free, and on and on. Harry was irritated but tried not to let it show. Since he'd expected to be out of the country when the work was done, he hadn't made a point of telling the firm he'd engaged that he wanted to be left alone.

It only seemed civil to offer the trio of wizards a cup of tea. That was amusing in itself, he had to admit. He introduced Draco as his bound companion and he could swear that not a single one of the carpenters behaved in any way that could be thought inappropriate, but Draco got a bit possessive, even so.

He didn't behave as ridiculously as he had at the Ministry, but he practically bristled whenever any of the visitors looked Harry's way.

Harry couldn't help but find that encouraging.

By the time Ron and Hermione returned, Harry was all smiles.