Heaven Within

Story 1: LEAVING

After watching PS/SS, I wondered what might happen if Harry and Draco never became friends? What if they spent those seven years always hating each other?

-*-*-

"So, to all who will be returning in September, enjoy your summer holidays and return refreshed and ready for study. To our gallant seventh years who will be leaving us, congratulations on having the best exam results for many, many years. Go out into the world and make us proud of you."

Albus Dumbledore remained standing as the applause rang though the Great Hall. It slowly subsided and he continued. "Now, off you go to your House parties. Remember what time the Hogwarts Express leaves in the morning and make sure you aren't late."

The sound of hundreds of chairs scrapping back filled the Hall, the noise quickly drowned out by the growing hubbub of chatter. Near the huge entrance doors, the seventh year students hung back, waiting for the mass of people to clear. Thirty eight scared children had come to Hogwarts in 1991 and of that group 24 had lasted the full seven years. Most had already said their goodbyes, arranging to try and meet again in three years, when they reached their 21st birthdays.

Draco Malfoy watched the small group backslap and hug each other. He stepped closer, but deliberately hung back on the periphery. Most of the dropouts had come from Slytherin, not returning after the Triwizard debacle, and he had spent most of remaining years on the fringes of classes and groups on his own. So was he used to it? The answer was probably no, but he dealt with it in his normal way, closing himself off from those around him and getting on with studies as best he could.

The crowd began to thin out as people made their way out of the Hall, and Draco quietly strolled along after them, deliberately ignoring the group of Gryffindors surrounding Harry Potter, whose laugh cut through the sound of talking. Draco's head shot up at the sound, briefly meeting Harry's eyes, before he pushed his way through the crowd.

"Malfoy."

Draco stopped at the voice, deeper now as Harry had grown, but still with the quiet sense of authority it had always had. He didn't speak, but stood quietly, eyebrow raised, waiting for Harry to speak. The Gryffindor stepped out of security circle of his friends and stopped before the Slytherin.

"Harry, come on."

Both looked over at Ron Weasley who was attempting to drag Harry away to the Gryffindor party. "In a minute, Ron. You all go on. I'll met you there."

"Are you sure?"

"Go on." The four people Harry had shared a dorm with for the past seven years finally took the hint and left, each casting a quick look over their shoulders as if to make sure their friend was okay.

The two eyed each other suspiciously, and then Harry finally spoke. "I just wanted to say goodbye and ... good luck."

"You want to wish me luck?" Draco gave a hard smile. "That's rich, coming from you, Potter. Since when did you care what happened to me?"

"We've spent seven years fighting, can't we at least be civil now? This one last time?"

"Okay. Goodbye and good luck." Draco turned to leave, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked down at the hand as though it was a nasty irritant.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked.

"Do?"

"Now you're leaving here? What are your plans?"

"Why would I want to discuss that with you?"

Harry took a deep breath and released the other boy's arm. He held the hand out towards Draco. "Because you need to discuss it with someone."

Draco looked from the hand to the green eyes. He was immediately transported back to that first day seven years before when he had held out a hand to Harry. The gesture hadn't been accepted and that one incident had led to a battle that had continued throughout their years together. Adversary, opponent, rival, enemy. All words that had been used to describe what had gone between them from Day One. Why should he make a move now, when it was all too late?

Minutes ticked by and neither moved, locked in some strange tableau, then Draco finally broke the stillness. "What the hell," he shrugged and took the proffered hand, long pale fingers curling around the slightly larger tanned hand.

He had never touched Harry in all the years they had known each other. Oh, they had occasionally had body contact, during a Quidditch match for example, but he had never held him as he was doing now. And the sensation was electric. The warmth made his own flesh tingle and he felt like it was the most important thing he had ever done in his life. They could have been friends, the grip told him, but now it was all too late. Everything was too late. His life had been mapped out and it would follow its course whatever Harry said.

Harry felt it too, felt the firm strength of the grip, the sensation of warmth spreading from the touch. "You don't need to go to him." His voice was a whisper, directly solely at Draco and no one else. "You don't need to be one of his followers. You're worth more than that."

Draco tried to pull away, but Harry's grip tightened. "You have no right to tell me what to do." He ceased struggling, content to bask in the safety of this new touch. "If I decide to become one of his followers then I will. I will make my own decisions and believe me, they are no worse or better than the ones you will make."

"I just want you to know there are other options."

"Why do you care what I do?"

"I care about everyone."

"But you're not having this conversation with them are you? You are having it with me. Why are you trying to convince me when we've spent years doing the best we could to ruin things for each other?"

"I..." Harry used his free hand to brush his hair from off his face and then met the grey gaze. "Because despite everything I do care what happens to you. I want you to be safe and I don't want to end up fighting you for real. Draco, I don't want to see you die because of him."

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but wasn't sure what to say. Harry hardly ever used his given name and then only as an insult and it threw him a little. This time when he pulled away, Harry offered no resistance and Draco quickly folded his arms, still able to feel the heat of Harry's hand on his fingers. "It won't come to that."

"It will, if you go to him. I'm going to stop him." Draco gave a laugh, and then saw the serious expression on Harry's face. "He is not going to destroy everything again. I owe it to my parents and to all the other people he's killed."

"I will do what I have to."

"Okay. But at least think about it, Draco. Don't tie yourself to him without knowing what else you could do." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded sheet of parchment. "I'm going to be in London for a while. If you want to talk, come and see me. If you need help, then there is a place for you." Draco's arms remained folded and he didn't take the offered paper. Instead, Harry pushed it into the crook of his arm. "Just don't waste everything you could be for him."

Draco released his arms and the crumpled parchment fluttered to the ground. "I don't need your help, I don't need your charity."

"It isn't either of those things."

"This is a pointless discussion. Go and join your Gryffindor friends before they decide I might have done you some damage and come to rescue you."

The two studied each other, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Harry shrugged. "The offer stands, Draco. Don't sell yourself short."

"Now that is something you can never accuse me of."

With that, the two moved apart and each went their separate ways.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco stood in the shadow of the great staircase for several minutes, waiting for everyone to finally leave the Hall. Quietly, he made his way back inside and began searching the floor. The crumbled ball of parchment had been kicked under a table, and he scrambled down on his knees to retrieve it.

Sitting back on his heels, he carefully straightened the parchment between his fingers. The familiar scrawl of Harry's writing covered one side and on the other was a neat little map of how to find the address. He looked at it for a long time, kneeling quietly on the floor. He didn't understand why Harry had done this, but the Gryffindor had cared enough to prepared this before hand. Cared enough to make this effort.

He looked down at the hand that Harry had held and wondered for a long time about choices.

Then, finally getting to his feet, Draco tucked the parchment away and headed back to his rooms.

======================================================================

Story 2: Return

A Valentine's Day Ficlet. This futurefic is based loosely on the story Resolution

-*-*-

He was tired. He was hungry. And he was sure he reeked.

Of course, it didn't help that he had been wearing the same clothes for three days now. The swift exodus from the hotel in Brighton meant that all his belongings had been left behind. Including, of course, what little Muggle money he had left. Still, he had found his target, so in the end it had all been worth it.

At least, that was Hermione Granger's view of things. But she wasn't the one sitting in a Muggle car driving down the M27 with the rain beating down so hard he could hardly see the road, let along the other cars. He pulled out from behind a very large articulated lorry and accelerated the car past it, narrowly avoiding a fast-approaching van that must have been doing at least 95.

He hated Muggles. Hated Muggle cars. Hated living as one. And, at the moment, hated his job. Job? Was that what it was called? Others called what he did a 'vocation'. Hunting down the remnants of Voldemort's defeated army hardly constituted 'vocation' in his books. But Voldemort's followers had chosen to hide amongst the very people they detested and someone had to help round them up before they created any more havoc.

Through the gloom, he saw the sign marking his junction and pulled off the motorway into Port Solent. Immediately the traffic slowed, 30 miles an hour seeming like he was almost stationary. On either side of the road, pedestrians hurried along, umbrellas shielding them from the rain. He was surprised for a moment by the number of couples and then remembered it was Valentine's Day.

Valentine's Day and he was on his own. Harry was off somewhere in the world... Australia, Outer Mongolia, Croydon... He didn't know where and Hermione had declined to tell him. It wasn't safe she had said. It would blow both their operations. It would make him worry.

Well, he reminded her, he would worry even more not knowing, but the Chief of Operations was quite adamant. One knowing where the other was would compromise both her key operatives.

The traffic lights ahead turned red, and Draco slowed the car to a halt. Numerous restaurants lined either side of the street and through the rain-splattered windows; he could make out couples leaning across the tables. Holding hands, kissing. Everywhere couples.

Life could be a real bitch sometimes.

The car park was full as usual and it took him ages to find a spot. It happened to be at a point furthest from the block of flats and he climbed from the car into the miserable weather and plodded dejectedly across the deserted tarmac. It felt like he was the only person in the whole universe.

At least, he considered, the rain might wash away some of the smell.

The flat was in cold darkness when he opened the door. Living near a harbour had its plus points, but on a cold wet February day he would much rather be some place else where the salt spray didn't pound against the windows, destroying all the plants on the balcony window boxes and covering everything with a slick coating that tasted like sweat on the lips.

Lights flickered on and he kicked his shoes off on the way to the kitchen. What he wanted most now was a cup of tea. Hardly the most glamorous of drinks, but then he wasn't feeling much like an international super sleuth at the moment. He opened the fridge and looked at the pitiful contents. It had been at least a week since either Harry or he had been home, and the fridge bore testament to that fact. There were some rather sad-looking salad items in the drawer at the bottom and a lump of what he assumed was cheese, though it had most definitely seen better days. As for the milk... One sniff of it made him realise maybe he didn't smell so bad after all.

"No tea then, Malfoy." He muttered and reached, instead for the bottle of Smirnoff Ice. At least that couldn't have gone off. Clicking off the cap, he didn't even bother to get a glass, drinking down half the bottle in one go.

He turned on more lights as he made his way around the flat, hoping they might cheer the place up. It didn't work. In fact, it made it worse because everywhere the light touched were reminders of the person missing that night. Even the carelessly dropped shirt, which he would have berated Harry for leaving on the floor, filled him with sadness.

This wasn't the life he had expected them to share when he had turned away from his family and all that he had been brought up to believe. He had thought they would be together most of the time, but in the last three months they had been lucky to have as many days to themselves. Ships that passed in the night, someone had once said. Well, this was one ship he wanted to get off. Why the hell couldn't they be on the same ship instead of always being on different ones?

He put the now empty bottle down and finally stripped off his wet jacket and started on the buttons of his shirt as he crossed to the bathroom. At least he could have a shower and feel clear again.

Opening the door, Draco came to an abrupt halt on the threshold, momentarily stunned, convinced he must be in the middle of some sort of magical illusion.

The bathroom, with its huge sunken bath (the one real sign of luxury he had been determined to build into the otherwise tiny Muggle flat), was full of candles. They stood on the shelves, around the edge of the bath, floated above his head. And drifting lazily amongst them were bubbles. Large glistening red bubbles that didn't burst when they touched the floor, but would bounce upwards towards the ceiling. They collided with each other, sometimes merging to form larger bubbles, or even splitting into smaller, pink spheres.

Draco stepped further into the room, his tired mind almost unable to take in what was happening. It was, he decided, almost like a fairytale. He reached out a hand and let a bubble settle onto his palm. It sat there for a moment and then burst softly, the touch almost like a kiss.

So like a kiss that he thought he felt the same sensation on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, knowing the touch, but not believing he could really be feeling it. A hand, not his own, slipped across his chest, and he could feel the warmth of another body pressed against his back.

"Hello, Draco." He felt the words vibrate against his spine.

He didn't want to turn around in case it was all a dream, but finally he did, straight into the arms of his lover. "Harry." The hitch in his voice was audible and he grabbed at the person, pulling the slim naked body into his arm. "What are you doing here? I thought..." Oh, god, he thought, I'm going to cry, stupid arse.

Harry's mouth gently touched the others lips. "I told you I would get home if I could." The kiss deepened, "I didn't want to say anything just in case..." His fingers tangled in the blond hair, turning Draco's head slightly. "I have so missed you."

Draco tried to think of a suitable response, but there was none. The Master of the Quick Retort was lost for words. Instead he allowed Harry to take charge, let him take the lead and take some of the pain from his tired body.

After what seemed a lifetime, Harry finally pulled back and looked at the tear-stained face before him. He took the beloved face in his hands and looked deep into the grey eyes. "Do you know something?"

"What?"

"You whiff something chronic."

"So would you if you had to sleep in a field."

"True," Harry shrugged against the other's chest as he snaked his arms around the slim back. "Then I guess there is only one things for it." Pulling Draco off balance, Harry swung them both round. They toppled backwards straight into the huge sunken bath. Water shot around them, cascading onto the floor and dosing several candle in the process.

Finally surfacing, Draco floundered under Harry's body, gasping for air. "I hope," he finally managed to talk, "you don't expect me to clean that up."

Harry reached out a hand and began to remove Draco's wet clothes. "It's Valentine's Day. Let's worry about the wet floor in the morning..."

======================================================================

Story 3: Invitation

The morning after Return. Draco wakes and wonders if he might have been dreaming. A futurefic based loosely on the story Resolution

-*-*-

He was awake, but content to remain exactly where he was -- under the blankets, curled up against a warm leg. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was worried that if he moved he would find out everything had been a dream, that the leg would disappear and that the very distinctive Harry smell would be just a figment of his imagination.

Draco moved closer (if that was possible) and ran a hand lazily down the leg from thigh to ankle and lightly nipped at the flesh. No, he decided, the leg really was there and he really was awake.

"What are you doing?"

The voice came from somewhere outside the cocoon of blankets, familiar beloved tones which he had heard so little of recently. "Nothing." The voice rumbled against Harry's skin as Draco tentatively licked out for a taste.

"Good, because I'm busy with the post at the moment and I hate to think I was missing something."

Something hit Draco on the head and slithered across his body. "Oww."

He scrambled out from under the covers and sent the shower of envelopes Harry had just dumped on him to the floor. The collection of multi-coloured items settled on the carpet and around him on the bed. "All these for me?" He picked up the nearest. "Bill." And tossed it to join the rest on the floor. " 'Nother bill. Oh, this is interesting." He opened the envelope and pulled out the sheets from inside. "I've won a quarter of a million pounds. Now I can retire."

Harry took the letter from Draco's fingers and scanned it. "Readers Digest. You have to buy loads of useless books and videos before you quality."

"That's not what it says. Anyway, why would I want all that money when I've got your fortune?" Draco turned back against Harry's hip and allowed his hand to settle on the inside of Harry's thigh. "Besides, how did they find out where I lived? I thought we were supposed to be deep undercover agents or something." He began tracing a slow leisurely circle with a finger.

Shifting slightly, Harry sighed imperceptivity and leaned back against the headboard, still throwing the occasional letter to at Draco. "I can't believe there is so much of this rubbish. How long have we been away?" He hissed as the fingers moved further up, and Draco kissed where the top of his leg joined his torso. "Are you listening to me?" Draco murmured something against his skin, the sensation making Harry shiver. He opened the last envelope and pulled out a piece of embossed card. "I take it you aren't interested in your letters?" Another mumble. "Okay, I'll be with you in a minute." Warmth surrounded him and he closed his eyes momentarily as he felt the familiar mouth touch him.

Green eyes flickered open again as Draco gave him a particularly hard nip. "Hey, watch it."

"Can't, not unless you give me a torch, it's dark down here."

As if to prove a point, Draco shifted slightly, lining up his body with Harry's legs.

Harry sighed and despite what was happened beneath the blankets, he looked at the card.

He froze, staring at the theatrical script adorning the ivory and gold card. "Draco." He found himself struggling against the other. "Don't. Not just now." He pushed him away.

The blond fought his way into the daylight. Not making any attempt to hide the hurt and concern on his face, he pushed himself up on an elbow. "Harry?" He looked up at the face, taking in the shocked surprise and lack of colour on it. The annoyance at Harry's lack of interest in him disappeared. "Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I have." The voice was tiny and Draco saw gooseflesh on Harry's arms.

Sitting up, Draco took the card from his lover's numb fingers. "It's an invite to a wedding." He tried to lighten the darkness that had settled on Harry. "Oh, does that mean we get to have new clothes? Can I pick something out for you again? Something in green and silver with tight trousers and no underwear." He fell back against the pillows, matching Harry's posture. "Do we know these people?"

"Read it." Harry's voice was blank.

"Okay, Mr and Mrs Malcolm Baatz... Do I know the Baatzs?" Harry shook his head. "Request the pleasure of Mr Harry Potter And Partner... Do I count as 'and partner'?" No response. "To the Wedding of their daughter Pia Elvira to Dudley Vernon Dursley." There was a very long silence. "Oh."

"Oh."

"And this is Dudley the Cousin?" Harry nodded. "And they've invited you to his wedding?" Harry grabbed the card back and started to tear it in half. "No! Don't do that!" Draco grabbed it back. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm not going am I. I don't even know how they found me."

"Why not?"

The face that met Draco's looked stunned. "Why not? Draco, this is the boy who spent the first 17 years of my life tormenting me. I hate him. They would only invite me to make fun. 'Oh, look, Sweet Dudders is getting married and look at you, who would want you?'"

Draco pulled Harry into his arms, holding him against his chest; suddenly aware of how fast Harry's heart was beating. "I want you. You do know that don't you?" He felt Harry give a small nod. "They are your family." His voice was quiet as he stroked the dark hair.

"Now you sound like Dumbledore. That's why he kept sending me back every summer. Because they were family." Harry picked up the card and looked at it again. "They made me sleep in a cupboard under the stairs for years."

The stroking hand stopped. "Really? I thought... well, I always thought it was a story, that you were... maybe... exaggerating."

"No." Harry's arm moved round Draco's body and he suddenly held him tightly as though the blond boy might run away and leave him. "No. They would lock me in there -- in the dark."

Draco pulled him closer, suddenly realising what Harry's nightmares were about and why there was normally a light left on. "Oh, Harry." He turned the face upwards toward him and gently kissed the sad lips. Then he did something he rarely did. He removed Harry's glasses. They were Harry's shield against everyone, including Draco and their removal was always a sign of Harry's trust in a person. Even after everything they had been through, taking them off was still a major moment of the trust between them. For Draco to remove them, even more so. Draco carefully kissed each eye, then brushed the heavy hair hair from his lover's forehead and placed a third kiss on the zigzag scar. "Harry." He kissed the mouth. "You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to. I'm your family and I will never leave you. You don't need them. And if I ever get the chance I will make them pay."

The response was electric and the card dropped from Harry's fingers. They tangled in Draco's blond hair, holding on so tightly it hurt.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Harry." Aunt Petunia's voice dripped a hatred that was matched by the gaze in her nephew's eyes. "We didn't think you would be able to make it."

Standing stiffly beside Draco, Harry gave a strange, strangled smile. He wanted to grab hold of Draco's hand for support, wanted to be anywhere but here. "Aunt Petunia," he finally managed to muster a voice. "This is..." The touch of Draco's slim fingers on his arm silenced him.

Draco smiled one of his most devastating smiles and stepped forward. He took the amazed woman in a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. "I'm Draco Malfoy and I'm Harry's lover." The face, a few inches from his own was a picture of horrified shock and he favoured her with a look of withering ice. He leaned closer until his lips brushed against her ear. "And I'm a wizard and I know what you did to him........"

======================================================================

Story 4: Cards

Harry teaches Draco a Muggle card game

-*-*-

Reaching for the buttons of his trousers, Draco's eyes never left Harry's face. "Are you sure about this?"

Harry nodded as he collected the cards from the table and quickly started to shuffle them again. "Oh yes. You know the rules." He smiled gleefully as Draco slid the denims down his legs to join the growing pile of clothes already beside his chair.

"You see I have a problem here. I seem to be the only one taking any clothes off."

"That's because you keep losing."

The grey eyes narrowed as Draco's hand shot out, grabbing hold of the deck of cards. "Who taught you this poker game anyway?" He tried to shuffle the cards, but found it more difficult than it looked. "And why do we have to use a Muggle pack of cards?"

"Because you can't play poker with an Exploding Snap deck. The cards are all different." Harry held out a hand. "Here, let me shuffle and then you can deal." He reached for the cards, his hand brushing lightly over Draco's fingers. "You'll get the hang of it eventually, I promise."

"Hmmm. Somehow, I get the impression I won't." Taking the shuffled deck back from Harry, he carefully dealt five cards each and picked up his own. He fiddled with them for a moment, trying to remember the combinations Harry had told him about. "How many cards can I change?"

"All of them if you want." Harry looked thoughtful as he sorted his cards. Then with a grin, he looked up, green eyes twinkling. "I think I'll stick with these." He laid the cards face down on the table. "You're not cold are you?"

"No." Draco swapped two of his cards. The room was perfectly warm and he was fine despite the fact he was now clad in just his silk boxers. "Why?"

"Well, it's just that your nipples..." Grey eyes flashed up and the cards were slammed onto the table. "You're either cold or..."

"Just play your hand, Potter." Draco sat back, his face impassive as he refused to rise to Harry's distraction techniques.

"Okay." Harry turned the cards over, displaying a mismatch set of cards.

"Ah." The triumph on Draco's face was self-evident. "This time I win." He carefully laid out the cards one at a time and showed a perfect Full House of twos and threes. "There. Now, off with the shirt."

Harry didn't move. Instead he began checking off his cards. "No, look you haven't understood. This king beats your two. Then the nine beats the other two..."

"What?"

"The six is higher than the three. And my three of clubs beats your three of hearts."

Draco picked up the remaining three and threw it at Harry. "And don't tell me the Ace beats this as well."

"Of course, because Aces are high at the moment." The sweet smile on Harry's face would probably have melted the hardest of hearts. "So I think you have to agree I win again."

"Of course, why should I have expected anything else?" As his fingers slipping into the waistband of his boxers, Draco's glare dripped ice. "I think you're making up the rules as you go along."

Harry looked suitably hurt. "How can you say that?" His hand covered his heart. "Me cheat? I'm a Gryffindor, Draco, and we never cheat. And, as you are so fond of reminding me, I'm hopeless at cunning plans."

"Next time, we play chess." The boxers dropped from his fingers.

"Okay," Harry began shuffling the deck again. "One more game, the winner gets to choose top or bottom."

======================================================================

Story 5: Alarm

This ficlet started from a comment made by Aja on the Draco_101 Yahoo site (Home of Resolution) in response to a question I posted about what Draco might find annoying about Harry. And I read Alex's lovely Harry/Draco family life ficlets on Guns+Handcuffs and I just had to include that as well.

-*-*-

Draco was in a cold place, which surprised him because the image filling his dream was of somewhere warm and sunny.

In that state just between sleep and wakefulness, he turned onto his side, curling up against the early morning chill, and reached for the sheets. His hand found nothing but air and he groaned. Not again.

Eyelids flickered open and for a moment grey eyes watched the sheer gossamer curtains billow in the breeze from the open window. The material defused the early morning light, casting the room in a pale rose sunrise.

Draco stretched lazily and rolled over onto his other side, already knowing where the missing sheets would be. He propped himself onto an elbow and looked down at the cocoon which took up the other half of the bed.

Not only had Harry stolen all the sheets, but also he had managed to effectively wrap himself in them to such an extent that Draco couldn't see the edges of the covers. This wasn't the first time he had been deprived of all the bed linen. In fact, it was becoming almost a nightly occurrence for Harry to steal everything and it never ceased to amaze Draco how Harry could deny it in the morning even when still wrapped in the offending articles.

He looked at the only part of his lover visible -- the shock of black hair against the white of the cool Egyptian cotton sheets. Reaching out a hand, he pulled the sheet down a little and freed the other's face. It was serene in sleep in a way that during wakefulness it could never be. They had both found a fulfilment in life now, which had given them a certain peace, but that didn't stop the memories occasionally intruding, laying heavily against the pleasures of being together -- of being a family at last.

Gently he traced a finger along Harry's cheekbone, through the hair and around the back of his ear. The touch was rewarded with a gentle sigh and a sleepy struggle against his bindings. Harry remained oblivious to the world.

But the movement did allow Draco to find the edges of the sheets, and he began to slowly unwrap the present beside him with a gentleness he would once have found totally foreign to him. Thoughts that maybe single beds or even separate rooms might be a good idea were quickly forgotten as Harry finally rolled into his arms, settling against his chest. He pulled the sheets back over them both.

"Ah, your feet are cold." The sleep-filled voice mumbled into Draco's chest.

"Mmmm."

"So are your hands."

Somewhere in the distance Draco heard the sound of a television being turned on. He wondered which of the children were awake. The strains of 'Postman Pat...' echoed through the house and he knew that it was Alex. The five-year-old was an expert at all the Muggle equipment in the house; even the computer wasn't safe from the boy's nimble fingers. Any minute now, a second sound would join the first as his sister made her presence felt. What would it be this morning, he wondered?

Harry groan against him, but not from pleasure, as the sound of Atomic Kitten vied with Postman Pat for attention. Harry hated Atomic Kitten and had made the unfortunate mistake of telling Jackie as much. His daughter was now quite content to torture him at regular interviews with the music.

Draco hissed as a hand snaked down his stomach and brushed over his thigh. "Harry! Don't."

"Why?" The word was lazy, still sleep-filled, and rumbled against the skin.

"Because the alarm will be going off at any minute, and you know what that means." The two children knew not to disturb their parents until after the alarm had gone off.

"Oh. Okay." The head turned slightly and planted a soft kiss in the hollow of Draco's throat. He felt the pulse rate increased against his tongue. "We could turn it off."

"What?"

"The alarm. We could turn it off."

"Can't. Jackie took the clock last night." Draco gave a squeak. "Harry...!"

Somewhere a third noise joined the growing level of sound in the house and the two men shot apart. A distant rumble made by two sets of tiny feet on the wooden floor grew ever closer and the bedroom door was flung open.

The children leapt onto the bed and into the arms of their waiting parents, both demanding attention. In the midst of the laughter, Harry reached out a hand and brushed it through Draco's hair and pulled him into a quick soft kiss.

"Good morning, sweetie," he finally said before turning his attention to the sheet of paper being waved at him by Jackie.

Draco sighed happily, and began to construct something from the Lego bricks now strewn about the bed.