Teamwork

Notes: Thanks to calanthe for beta work and Britpicking. Any departures from canon capitalization are mine.

4 -- Stories

If the morning session of the trial was unsettling, the afternoon one was outright disturbing. Avery did as Harry had expected and claimed that he wasn't present. However, two of his witnesses were not available, so his matter was tabled and the trial moved on to Lucius Malfoy.

There were chains on the three remaining chairs -- Nott was no longer present -- but none of the defendants were restrained with them. When his name was called, Lucius stood with quiet dignity. He was impeccably, but sedately, dressed in robes of soft grey, and he held his head high.

"Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot," he said, bowing politely, "I do not deny that I was present at this gathering of supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, nor that I followed those of his servants who pursued my only son and heir. However, my presence was not willing, and I followed Draco only to protect him."

Harry repressed a snort only out of a sense of the dignity of occasion. He looked towards Draco, expecting to share a moment of amusement -- surely no one would believe such tripe -- but Draco sat stiffly, lips pressed in a tight line.

"As you all know, I received the Dark Mark in my youth, while under the Imperius curse." Lucius grimaced. "That, unfortunately, gives He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named the ability to maintain an approximate idea of my movements, and of course it is difficult to know which of my companions who claimed the same are sincere, and which are hiding behind lies.

"Giles Goyle has been a friend of mine nearly all my life. When he invited my son and me to a social gathering, it was only natural to accept. But then, his portkey brought me to an unexpected location, and I was obliged to watch, hopelessly outnumbered by his loyal servants, while He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attempted to similarly brand my son." Lucius took in a hard, painful breath, and Harry watched with growing hatred a performance that might have convinced him had he not known better.

"When Draco escaped, I was, of course, relieved, but then several of those gathered turned to pursue him. I followed through the portkey trace and attacked Giles as he expanded his broom -- he'd got us into this situation, after all -- and he disarmed me, but I was too frantic to be sensible. Whatever his crimes may have been, he wasn't so far gone as to do an old friend real harm, and I followed. I could not do anything less for a child of my blood.

"Wandless, I could be of little help. Giles fought with both my wand and his own, leaving, no doubt, damning evidence. I swear, though, that I did nothing to endanger my son."

For minute, the room was silent. "Please continue, Mr Malfoy," a man on the floor said levelly. He was standing in front of the facing box. Harry thought he might be part of the defense team.

"I -- it's hard to know what to say," Lucius continued, his voice just slightly unsteady. More than one listener was dabbing at her (or even his) eyes. Except for Voldemort, Harry had never wanted to hurt another person so badly as he did Lucius Malfoy now.

"Draco -- my own son believes that I would try to kill him! I -- it's Potter's influence -- it must be! The boy is unbalanced, and Dumbledore has encouraged his paranoia rather than helping him, and he's been filling my son's head with his own delusions of persecution." Lucius closed his eyes for a moment, as if mustering his resources, and then opened them again. "It pains me," he said, with quiet dignity, "that we must be victims to such experiments in education as to turn our own sons and daughters -- our future -- against us." He glanced down at his unused chains, for just a second, and then raised his head to look again at the Inquisitor. "That is my statement," he said levelly, and sat.

"Bastard," Harry muttered, but Draco shushed him. Harry would have worried had Draco not also gripped his hand tightly, the contact nearly hidden under the wide sleeve of his robes.

The clerk had asked Lucius Malfoy if he wanted to call any witnesses, and Lucius waved the matter wearily over to his barrister, who took a few steps from the chairs towards the box Harry and Draco were in.

"Professor Albus Dumbledore," he called.

The defense questioned Dumbledore as to who had cast the Cruciatus curse, and while he said that he believed that it was Lucius Malfoy, he of course had not seen the curse cast. Draco had already been on the floor of his office before he had caught his first glimpse of the interlopers. He did use that word, and Harry, for the first time, began to appreciate the potential value of the trespassing charge.

Dumbledore wasn't even able to testify that he had seen Lucius with a wand. When he had first emerged from the school, several of the Death Eaters had rushed towards him, and Snape had fired off Disarming spells from behind them. Dumbledore had been dueling Nott, and hadn't seen whose hands the wands had flown from.

Harry knew that this wasn't good. Snape had been cleared without a hearing, due to private testimony from various people -- including not only Dumbledore, but unnamed officials in the MLE -- that he had been working as an informant, but he still wasn't what most people would consider a reliable witness.

The prosecution, he thought, would probably have called Draco next, since he might have seen something definite, even while fleeing, but it wasn't their turn yet. The defense, instead, called Theodore Nott.

He wasn't the best witness either, Harry thought, as the pale young man rose stood and stepped out of the witness box to face the inquisitors. He had a strong resemblance to his uncle, whose hateful confession must still be fresh in everyone's minds. Still, he had a quiet, serious look that professors liked, and which Harry imagined that people in government might like as well.

"Now, Theodore," the man said, "you go to school with Draco Malfoy, don't you? Would you say he's a reliable witness?"

Nott hesitated. "He used to be dependable," he said.

"Ah. And what happened?"

Nott grimaced. "He started hanging out with Potter, and Potter's always in trouble. He's been drunk at school, and he spent half of last spring being punished for leaving the grounds, and everyone knows --"

Harry tensed, and he could feel Draco, beside him, do the same. Whispers spread through the Wizengamot. Dumbledore's voice cut through them.

"Objection," he said. "Mr Potter's reliability is not relevant to the matter at hand. Furthermore, he is a minor, and any disciplinary action to which he may have been subject is therefore not admissible at a public hearing."

Harry didn't feel any less like cringing at that, but the defense barrister did not dispute the point. Instead, he consulted with his clerk, giving the assembly more time to speculate among themselves. Draco reached over and squeezed Harry's hand. "Sorry," he muttered.

After a moment, the man cleared his throat. "Theodore, please continue, but restrain yourself to the matters relevant to Draco."

Nott nodded and sent Harry -- or perhaps Draco -- a vicious look. "Well, Draco used to be around the common room most evenings, but in December, he started going missing. He'd be gone almost every other night, and we found out later that he was meeting Potter. They both stayed at the school over the Christmas holiday, and when we came back, it was even worse -- sometimes he'd be out well into the night, and come back smelling of alcohol. About a month into term, he started saying negative things about his family. I think it was to impress Potter, you know -- that he was too well-bred for Potter and had to play that down. In March, we started seeing him with more vulgar students, even--"

"Mr. Nott," the barrister interrupted, before Nott could say anything to damage his own case. "I'd like to review a few of your points. You feel that young Mr. Malfoy may have used animosity toward his father to impress Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, definitely. They fought about politics once, in public, and after that, Draco would make a show of being annoyed when he received letters from home. And he'd make trouble in other ways. When they were caught exchanging messages in Transfiguration lessons, Draco set their notes on fire. Potter was impressed with that one."

Draco nudged Harry. "You're so easy," he whispered, but there was a savage tension below the joke.

"And he would stay out drinking with him?"

"That's certainly what it seemed to be."

"Did he do anything else to impress Potter?"

Nott answered slowly, his attention going back to them. "Bought him presents," he said. "Clothes. And a torclinde."

Harry had left Susara at the Leaky Cauldron, afraid he might give in to the temptation of whispering to her. Now he knew he had made the right decision. His fingers brushed along his arm, where she should be, and Draco caught at his hand.

Conscious, suddenly, of the stares on them, Harry took a long breath, smiled as best he could at Draco, and folded his hands in his lap. What he needed to do was look well-behaved. Sadly, he'd never been any good at that, even when it was true.

Crabbe and another, older Slytherin -- ex Slytherin, Harry supposed -- gave similar testimony, talking about Draco's slide from responsibility, and never missing an opportunity to mention Harry's bad influence. Harry grew increasingly angry and embarrassed, and Draco, although silent beside him, was recognizably fuming. Harry could tell by the way his fingers slid against each other, as if missing the smooth strength of his wand. When the testimony ended and the court adjourned for the night, Harry didn't know where to look.

"Sorry," Draco whispered again.

"It's not your fault."

Draco shrugged. "It depends on how you think about it."

Tonks came down to meet them, and Harry felt an embarrassing rush of gratitude when she looked at him with ironic sympathy rather than curiosity or censure. "Come on, loves -- I can chivvy you past the press." She leaned closer. "And I'm bloody glad that my least friendly classmates were never invited to go on about my escapades in court."

As promised, Tonks escorted them back to the Cauldron, fending off a few intrepid reporters who had staked out the back corridor, and with an admonition to Draco that he was on his own until she came to walk him to breakfast, left both of them at Draco's room. Draco dropped into the room's only chair.

"The conniving bastard. 'Delusions of persecution' indeed!" He raised his head to look at Harry. "I can't believe he had the gall to try to cast you as the corrupter." With a groan, he sagged back against the worn cushions. "Except I can."

"The problem is," Harry said slowly, "that my friends can't deny the drinking, or the staying out late, or the sneaking out of school...."

"Gryffindors," Draco growled.

Harry was wondering whether to laugh or to take offence when a knock sounded at the door.

"Mr Malfoy?" Tom's voice called. "Mr Clark is here to see you."

Draco sighed and levered himself out of the chair. "Give us a few minutes, Harry? I'll come to your room when I'm done."

"Of course."

At the doorway, Harry and the solicitor walked past each other as if the other didn't exist, but Harry didn't make it far. Fred and George Weasley were waiting outside his room.

"How did you get here?" Harry demanded.

"We have a message from old Dumbledore."

"Which is enough to earn us an escort up."

"Where's the toff?"

Harry scowled. "Draco is with his solicitor, and I want you gone by the time he comes out."

"Ooo! Was that his room you came out of?"

"Fred...." Harry said warningly, but both twins were ignoring him. They parted to walk past Harry on both sides, which disconcerted him enough that it was a moment before he realized where they were going.

"Hey!" He hurried after them. "Draco's in a private meeting! You stay out of there!"

"Oh, we will!"

"Of course."

Fred's voice dropped. "We plan to stay--"

"-- out here."

In front of Draco's door, George drew his wand and whispered a spell.

"-- your mother," Mr Clark was saying, his voice now clear in the hallway.

"Inadequate," Draco retorted, his voice brittle. "Even were she not, Harry is non-negotiable. I will not say it again."

Harry had his wand drawn and pointed at George. "End that."

"Do you have some better strategy?" Clark said dryly.

"Don't try it, Harry," Fred warned.

Draco's reply was drowned out by competing incantations. Fred went crashing into the door, and Harry felt a stinging lash across his chest. He pressed forward anyway, standing over Fred. Footsteps clattered inside the room, and George hastily ended his charm.

"What is this?" Clark asked, at a vicious hiss, while Draco, behind him, glared.

"Just a little disagreement," Harry said, not lifting his eyes or his wand. "I said Draco wasn't to be disturbed."

Fred scooted back more tightly against the wall. "Damn it, Harry, it was just a message from Dumbledore."

"Urgent?" Harry asked sweetly.

"Private."

"Most of this business is too private for a public corridor, isn't it?" Harry retorted.

The twins looked at each other, and it was George who spoke. "Sorry, Harry. You're right. Let Fred up now, will you?"

With a roll of his eyes, Harry did. Draco looked searchingly at him a moment, and then nodded.

"Harry, take these two back to your room, would you please? If the message is too private to be given to you, they will need to wait." His glance raked scornfully over the twins before returning to Harry. "Of course, anything too private for you, I would hope the headmaster would have the sense not to tell to them."

"Er...."

"We'll talk to Harry then."

"We wanted to do that anyway."

Back in his room, Harry rounded on the twins. George was casting a spell on the door.

"What is that?"

"Privacy charm. Our own."

"So my business doesn't end up in the corridor?"

"Exactly." The twins looked at each other.

"We didn't mean...."

"We just thought he might be plotting against you."

"Well he wasn't, now, was he?"

"Not that we heard."

"Probably not."

"We won't do it again."

"I love him," Harry said angrily.

"All right, all right!"

"We're just looking after you."

"I don't want looking after!"

Another shared glance, and then George spoke. He sounded uncommonly subdued. "No one does."

"And we don't usually."

"Look, what are you actually here for?" Harry demanded. "Is there a message from Dumbledore or not?"

"Yes." George cleared his throat. "Er, he wanted to remind you to keep your temper, and to tell Draco that the prosecution will call on him in the morning, and that you should both join the group for breakfast."

"That's it?" Harry gaped. "That's ... that's hardly worth mentioning!"

"Ah. But we volunteered to carry messages, as we had intended to speak with you anyway," Fred explained.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

"Maybe some other time," Fred said hurriedly.

"Oh since you're here," Harry said bitingly, "you might as well tell me."

The twins, amusingly, looked as if their mother had caught them at mischief. "Well...."

"The owl order business is doing really well," George blurted out.

"That's good."

"And we were hoping to open a shop."

"There's a place available right here on Diagon Alley."

"Just past Knockturn, but closer than Gambol & Japes."

Harry looked at their forced cheer and made a guess. "You need money."

"Profits are good," George said hurriedly.

"Just not good enough," Fred confessed. "They will be though, Harry, we know it."

"You won't regret it."

Harry stared at them. "Bad time to attack my boyfriend then, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't an attack--"

"You could have endangered him. You could have given away strategy for the trial. You didn't know what you were damaging, and you didn't care!"

Fred let out an exasperated sigh. George bit his lip. "You're serious about him, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, we thought it might just be..." George shrugged. "Good sex?"

"I was serious about him when we were still just friends, prat. And when we were involved and not doing anything."

George shook his head like a muddled dog. "Why bother with that?"

Fred nodded. "Right. Not like he can get pregnant."

"I wanted to be sure it--" Harry stopped. One didn't discuss feelings with Fred and George. He shrugged. "I'd never thought about blokes. I wanted to think it over a bit, and try snogging first, and make certain that liking each other wasn't just ... just not knowing what to do with wanting, you know?"

"And it wasn't?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Not by half." Harry smirked. The twins looked at each other.

"So, this shop--" Fred started doggedly.

At that moment, however, there came a knock at the door, and Draco's voice calling "Harry?"

"Come in," Harry called back. He looked back at the innocent expressions on the twins' faces and his anger returned. "Fred and George were just leaving."

When the twins were gone, and Harry had closed the door and cast his own privacy spell, he had to decide what to tell Draco. Not that the eavesdropping spell had been cast, he decided. As annoyed as he might be at the twins right now, he generally liked them and wanted Draco to get along with them, eventually. That much information might set things back too far.

"They wanted to spy on you," he said, in compromise.

Draco rolled his eyes. "And you settled things the Gryffindor way?"

"More or less. I did try talking first."

"Good of you."

"They said they didn't trust you and it was for my own good."

Draco scowled at that, but Harry pressed on. "Then they had the gall to ask me for a favor."

"I do hope you refused."

Harry shrugged. "Not outright, although I did give them the impression I would. The last thing that I told them was that insulting my boyfriend was a bad move."

"I would hope so!" Draco exclaimed, but the word 'boyfriend' seemed to mollify him some.

With a sigh, Harry sat down on his bed. "The thing is, I'm not sure I want to refuse."

"Oh? Is it good?"

"Well, I'm part owner of their business."

"The owl-order joke shop?"

"Yes. I gave them my winnings from the Tri-Wizard tournament, and they made me a silent partner in return."

Draco blinked. "They just ... happened to," he said slowly. "You didn't make it a condition."

"I just wanted to get rid of the money!"

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Because Cedric had died! And I shouldn't have won! Barty Crouch had done his best to throw me the victory. I would have failed the Second Task completely if he hadn't arranged for me to get gillyweed."

Draco shook his head. "I will never understand you. So, you attempted to throw this money away, and they insisted on giving you something of entirely hypothetical value in return."

"Right, except it's not that hypothetical anymore. They're making good money. I get reports, and anyway, I see their wares around Hogwarts."

"Oh, so I have I. You will note that I knew what 'their business' is." Draco crossed the room and sat next to Harry, but twisted to face him. "So, what do they want? A public endorsement?"

"As if I would!"

"More money then."

Harry winced and nodded. "A shop's come available in Diagon Alley, but they don't have the reserves." Draco eyed him sternly, and he sighed. "Look, I'll turn them down, if you want me to. The problem is that they don't respect anyone -- or nearly -- so expecting them to respect you--"

"Put a sock in it," Draco said brusquely. He grinned at Harry's surprised look. "Listen for a moment. I don't want you to refuse them--"

"Really?"

"Hush. I want to negotiate the deal for you." He smirked. "Tell them it's penance."

At that, Harry had to laugh. Fred and George would be horrified. "Don't take too much," he warned. "I'm rich, and they're not."

Draco shook his head. "Don't worry. They will be." He sat down on the bed. "Was that all? I'd like to tell you some about my consultation."

"Fine." Harry sat next to him. "Let me guess -- ditch me?"

"Mm. Of course, but not only that. He feels that my father is offering to reconcile with me, and providing a path; it wasn't my fault, of course -- you seduced me."

"Did I?" Harry said flatly.

"Well, of course not! The entire idea is absurd. You'd have no idea how to go about such a thing." Draco waved the matter off. "Anyway, I said no, of course, and he asked what else I could do, and I said I would tell the truth -- that got a laugh." His lips compressed for a moment. "I meant it," he said petulantly. "He doesn't understand. Father has a temper, and it sometimes overrides his discretion. It doesn't always, but I believe that arousing his anger is my best play, and the truth -- properly approached -- will do that. With luck, he'll react, and tarnish this 'concerned father' image he's creating."

With a long sigh, Draco straightened against the sag of the mattress. "Merlin, but this is miserable!"

"Yes."

Draco sighed. "Well, we might as well get ready for dinner."

"Do you still want to do that?" Harry remembered Auror Tonks that afternoon and Draco's nerves when he arrived, and hoped that perhaps Draco would decide that they should stay in. For his part, Harry wasn't too worried, but he would far rather an evening in with just Draco than out with a group of Slytherins. Any reporters who saw them would probably assume he was dating Bulstrode. Or, he thought, smiling to himself, that Parkinson is.

Draco hesitated, but when he replied, his voice was firm. "I miss my friends, Harry, and this is the friendliest that Pansy has been since I fled back to Hogwarts. And she chose Millicent, who's not one of her usual set, but is a neutral. That means something. I need to talk to her while she's willing to listen. I wouldn't risk going out alone, or during business hours, but I've stayed in for the past two nights. No one will be expecting me to leave now, and there are no crowds of shoppers for an attacker to hide in. And I'll have you with me."

Harry couldn't keep from feeling flattered. "All right. I'll play bodyguard, then."

"My Gryffindor," Draco said, with mock adoration. He took in a breath and let it out, ending with a bright smile. "So. Do you know what you're wearing?"

"What's wrong with what I have on?" Harry thought his robes from the trial would do for any good restaurant, but Draco shook his head.

"Nothing, per se, but they're today's clothes. You want to get rid of that and start afresh, so you can enjoy yourself."

"I don't need to --"

"I insist then. I refuse to think of that horrible trial every time I look at you."

Once Draco had put it like that, Harry had no choice but to cooperate. To his surprise, he did feel marginally better once he was in fresh clothes. He thought he might even understand what Draco had meant. The change placed his day more firmly in the past. With more cheer than he would have expected, he stepped out into Diagon Alley, Draco at his side. Draco did not take his hand -- or his arm, as Harry could suddenly imagine him doing -- but he walked intimately close. Even dinner with Parkinson and Bulstrode -- Pansy and Millicent, Harry reminded himself -- seemed worthwhile just to have dinner out with Draco.

The summer day was still bright, but shifting to the golden light that presaged sunset. By that, he spotted a cluster of redheads a few shops ahead of them. He hesitated. It was Fred and George, with Ron walking between them. One of the twins turned to walk backwards for a few steps, gesturing and speaking. If he spotted them, he gave no sign.

"Weasleys," Draco whispered.

"I noticed."

The Weasleys, however, remained ahead of them as they walked further. Aptly, Fortune Row turned out to be the street that came out onto Diagon Alley by Gringotts. Harry didn't think that was all that there was to the name. Smooth plank walks provided a raised path on either side of the street. The first building in, across from the side of the bank, was nearly as richly attractive, with marble pillars supporting a gate wrought of copper and something silver-bright. Further down, Harry could see what appeared to be a shop, closer to the street and ornamented with carved wood flourishes cleverly painted.

"Pansy said that it's past the first crossing," Draco elaborated, as they took the turn.

Harry nodded. He wondered if the Grand Game would try to express a hunting theme through its facade, and if so, how. He could see a few hanging signs out, but most were too tastefully ornate to be readable from a distance. He was peering forward, trying to decide if the furthest one showed antlers or a strange tree, when something came hurtling down from above, and Draco screamed and shoved him so that they fell away from each other. Harry hit the ground already rolling and came up to a crouch with his wand in hand. He didn't see an attacker, but thick ropes were winding around Draco's torso. Draco had his right arm upraised and was waving it back and forth, keeping it from being trapped. No noise came from his wide open mouth.

"DRACO! Libero!" The spell was a dueling standard and came easily to Harry's tongue. The ropes fell from Draco. As they did, however, something else came from above, landing heavily behind Harry. He whipped around and found himself facing someone masked and cloaked as a Death Eater.

His Petrifaction hex was blocked, and the man advanced, his left hand wielding a knife that was fully as long as the wand in his right. With Draco behind him, Harry was afraid to dodge. He threw up a shield spell of his own, hoping to block whatever his opponent tried next.

"Av--"

A fist-sized missile hurtled past his head and caught the man in the chest. He fell back, the curse unfinished, and Draco grabbed Harry's arm and pointed to his own throat. Footsteps pounded from Diagon Alley as he undid the Muting hex on Draco. Immediately, Draco pointed his wand over Harry's shoulder and Harry whipped around to defend them, only to find that they now had two attackers to deal with.

"Ossum--" Draco stopped. "Expelliarmus!" He growled in frustration. "Bloody hell!"

The Disarming spell had worked, sending both wand and knife flying, but the second Death Eater hit Draco with a tripping hex, and he went down. Harry retaliated with Impedimenta, darting to the side so that Draco would not be in the line of fire. As he did so, he realized that he had miscalculated. The disarmed man was lunging for Draco, hands outstretched. Inches away from his goal, he was suddenly knocked backwards in a flash of light.

"HARRY!

The twins and Ron were running over, wands out. Harry's opponent fell in a flash of pink. For several seconds, he thrashed under what appeared to be a coating of bubblegum, and then, with a sticky pop, he vanished.

The remaining man dove for his wand and followed.

The street was quiet, except for their panting breaths. Harry helped Draco to his feet, and they kept their arms around each other. With the Weasleys, they stood in the suddenly quiet street, looking warily around. A few shreds of bubblegum, an abandoned knife, and a displaced chunk of flint were the only signs of the battle. Harry saw a curtain edge flick down in the nearest house. He let out a shaky breath.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Fred sounded equally unsettled. His freckles showed darkly in his pale face. "As it turned out. You okay, Malfoy?"

Draco nodded. Harry could feel him trembling.

"Sorry," Harry said. "Guess I'm not much of a bodyguard."

Draco laughed slightly and leaned into him. "Oh, you did pretty well. Just need training up, I think."

"I wasn't expecting him to keep going for you when he was disarmed."

"Neither was I."

Ron, who had been looking stunned, finally found his voice. "Looked like he was trying to grab you."

"Yes." Draco straightened. "In hindsight, I think the goal was abduction."

"But why?"

Draco grimaced. "The trial? They don't want me talking?" He hesitated. "Though they could have killed me, easily enough. They must have more complicated plans."

Everyone understood that wasn't a good thing. Ron shuddered.

"Thanks for saving him, Ron," Harry said finally, since it seemed that Draco wouldn't.

Draco twitched. "Was that you who knocked him back? Yes, thank you."

"No problem," Ron said, echoing his brother. Harry thought he couldn't quite manage 'you're welcome,' but his shoulders settled at having the matter out of the way. "Look -- maybe we should come along with you two."

Fred nodded. "A larger group never hurts."

"Except when sneaking," George amended.

"But you obviously aren't."

"We were going out to dinner," Draco said. "Now, though, I think we should return to our rooms."

"Do you think Par-- Pansy set us up?"

"She wouldn't." Draco scowled. "I'm sure she wouldn't do that to me. But we've been seen here, in any case. Going on with it would be reckless."

Harry nodded grimly. He didn't find it nearly as unbelievable that Pansy had betrayed them, especially if she had been promised that Draco wouldn't be killed.

"We need to tell her, though," Draco said. His trembling, rather than easing, was growing worse. "I won't have her thinking that I stood her up."

"Wait!" Ron protested. "What if she did set you up? If Harry thinks so--."

"I think it's a possibility," Harry clarified. "That doesn't mean--"

"If she did, she won't show her hand by attacking a messenger," Draco interrupted. Abruptly, he twisted out of Harry's hold and sat down on the plank walk. "One of you can go and tell her."

"You want us to bring a message to a Slytherin?" Ron countered, disgust sharp in his voice.

"I want one of you to bring a message to one of my closest childhood friends," Draco retorted through clenched teeth. Harry moved forward.

"Enough. Ron, go and tell Pansy, please? But one of the twins should go with you, in case those bastards come back."

"Or someone's waiting with her," Ron said darkly.

"Right. And if she acts off, let us know."

Ron nodded. "All right. Where?"

"The Grand Game. Just past the first corner, we're told."

Ron nodded again, and set out with Fred. As soon as they were moving, Harry dropped down by Draco.

"Are you okay?"

"No." Draco grimaced. "But I can make it back."

George dropped down on Draco's other side. "What hurts?"

"Everything." Draco probed his ribs gingerly before pulling his hands back to his sides. "But mostly my ankle. Damn cobblestones."

"Mm. I'm not bad with healing charms. A necessity, really, considering our line of research. May I check it?"

"Go ahead."

After a few spells, George announced that the ankle wasn't broken, and cast one spell to reinforce where it was strained and another to dull the pain. Draco came gingerly back to his feet.

"Perhaps we could just apparate in?" he tried.

George shook his head. "Not into the building itself. We could to the entrance, but I can't take both of you, and I don't think either of you should be alone."

"I can apparate."

"But it's still before us or after us, right?"

"Oh. Yes, I see what you mean." Draco set his shoulders back and lifted his chin. "Walking it is."

They walked.

"We make a pretty good team."

"Mm." Harry snuggled against Draco's side. George had helped remove visible bruises from both of them before he left, but Harry was still sore all over from the fight. Not moving was good. Warmth was better.

"So, I have a plan."

Harry's eyes opened, much as they might have had someone said "look -- a charging dragon!"

"I'll take over Slytherin," Draco confided, "and you take over Gryffindor. That gives us --"

"What?"

"I take over Slytherin; you take over Gryffindor," Draco repeated, as if this were simple. Harry sat up. It hurt.

"Nobody runs Gryffindor!" he protested.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not because it can't be done, though. Just because Gryffindors don't usually do that sort of thing. But you could."

"You think so, do you?"

"Yes," Draco said boldly. He rolled onto his back, pulling Harry on top of him. "Because you're that good."

Harry rubbed up against him. He wasn't so sore after all. It was hardly noticeable under the effect that Draco was having on him as he rocked into him, back, and forward again. Draco's loose trousers were intended to be worn under robes, and didn't hold much in. "I am, am I?"

Draco smirked. "You got Ron Weasley to run a message for me."

"So I did." Harry kissed him. He had to.

"And--"

"Later."

"Mm?" Draco prompted, failing to look innocent.

"Plan later. I want to try something."

"Something that doesn't require planning?"

Harry pushed a hand down between them, rubbing awkwardly. "Yeah." He moved his knees, pushing up a little to give his arm more room, and managed to get his hand into Draco's trousers, letting out a little moan at the brush of his knuckles against smooth skin. "God, yeah."

"I'm sure you've done that before," Draco said, but his voice was ragged.

"A little." The first time, Draco had been so close when he had come into reach that Harry had hardly had time to do anything. It had been gratifying, but not educational. The next morning had been more of a languid rubbing together, supplemented by inefficient, but pleasantly mutual touches. Draco reached for him, but Harry shifted down, out of easy reach.

"No. Stay."

"I'm not a dog," Draco complained, but the words came with a wicked smile, and he pulled Harry's pillow a little further down under his head. He looked so satisfied that Harry worried about what Draco might expect. He was still uncertain about how far he would go.

"I want to see what I'm doing," he remarked, to clarify things without stating that he was.

"Go ahead. I'm not shy."

Eyes narrowing at the challenge, Harry stripped off Draco's trousers and looked his fill before reaching out to trail his fingers through pale curls, and then slowly up.

"Oh," he breathed. On himself, that didn't feel like power.

"Please."

"Yeah."

Draco had a lovely response to pleasure. He moaned and tipped his head back, emphasizing his throat. Harry remembered exploring that with his tongue the morning before, tracing the lines of tendon and the rise of that Adam's apple. It was tempting even now. Instead, he moved lower, too close for his glasses, which he set aside. Draco shuddered beautifully. A moment later, he was wailing softly and grabbing at Harry's hair.

Draco's fingers moved restlessly, making little circles over Harry's scalp, teasing at the locks as if he'd leave him looking like a hedgehog. He made high, desperate sounds and low, lustful sounds and everything in between while Harry did his best to drive him mad.

When Draco finally collapsed back, boneless and satisfied, Harry couldn't help feeling smug as he crawled up Draco's body. "Okay for a first try?" he asked teasingly.

With an affirmative moan, Draco fell back into the pillow. His face was pink and sweaty, his eyes dark with the wideness of the pupils, and his hair was as messy as Harry's own, pale locks pointing in competing directions. He looked gorgeous. Harry settled in to kiss him. Within seconds, Draco was reaching for him. Under his touch, Harry could feel his mind overloading, thought drowning under sensation. He was only vaguely aware of breaking the kiss, first to breathe, and then to roar with a rising surge of pleasure that blinded him like lightning.

He lay there afterwards, regaining his breath. Draco tipped him to the side and then came up on one elbow beside him.

"That was marvelous." His mouth twitched in a sly smile. "I'm ridiculously pleased at the thought that the whole floor may have heard you."

Harry couldn't feel upset at the idea himself.

Harry stayed sprawled out on the bed and watched lazily as Draco pulled on a shirt -- which he left unbuttoned -- and began to arrange his hair.

"If we're going to do this...."

Draco made an inquiring sound and Harry realized that "this" was highly ambiguous, under the circumstances.

"Take over our houses, I mean. If we're going to do that, being together will be a problem."

Draco set down the brush. "How so?"

"Well, it rather undermines our credibility, doesn't it? In our own houses?"

Draco's cheeks raised in an unguarded smile. "Not at all. We just need to be sure that the Gryffindors believe that you are in change, and the Slytherins believe that I am."

"And how do we do that? Orchestrate scenes? I'm not much of an actor, if you'll recall."

"We take advantage of house differences in perception." Draco sat on the bed and bumped Harry lightly on the nose with one finger. "If you give me orders, and I take them, the Gryffindors will think you're in charge, correct?"

Harry twitched his head to the side and back to nip at the finger. "Mm-hm."

"But if I give you advice, and you take it, the Slytherins will know I'm in charge."

Harry laughed, dislodging the finger, which he had started to suck on. "Take charge, then, Draco! I clearly need all the advice I can get." In a sudden move, he grabbed Draco and pulled him over onto the mattress.

"Hey!"

Harry's voice dropped to a low growl. "Make it work." Because I'm not giving you up for anything, he wanted to say, but that wasn't really true, of course. Both of them knew he would give Draco up for a wife, someday. Having forbidden Draco to ignore that, he shouldn't do so himself. Instead he held Draco close and kissed him with a need that had not been at all abated by sex.