White Horses

AND SO IT WAS THAT Harry and Draco enjoyed a brief holiday from reality. Harry spent most of his time down in their section of the dungeons, or out and about with Draco. He wasn't fooling anyone, not even himself: he was avoiding his friends. He couldn't possibly justify his decisions to them. But he wanted to enjoy this time. Perhaps Draco's promise that everything was nearly over should have been uplifting, but both boys seemed infected with an urgency that belied any hopes for a peaceful future.

It was early afternoon on Christmas Eve and Harry arrived at Draco's room, freshly washed and wearing his best clothes - which weren't all that impressive. Draco frowned at him disapprovingly and was at his most fastidious as he insisted, "Oh, no, Potter. Most days I don't make a fuss, but it's the Christmas Eve Dinner and I will not be seen with you if you're looking like you've just escaped from the poorhouse. The poorhouse of a third-world country, that is." Harry was about to protest that these were his nicest clothes, but remembered that even he wasn't proud of that fact, and he snapped his mouth shut without a word.

The Slytherin routed briefly through his closet and then threw a pair of slacks and a sweater at him. Harry grabbed at the clothes and realized it was the same outfit he had 'liberated' after their last sleep-over. Draco snorted, "At least we know they'll fit, you little thief. Now then, put them on." Harry looked up at him in alarm, but his boyfriend just waved at him impatiently.

Although he knew logically that Draco had seem him nude before, and they had even slept naked together (among other things), he was still embarrassed to change in front of the other boy. He turned slightly away, but wasn't going to give Draco the satisfaction of making him turn all the way around. Knowing his face was probably flaming red, Harry unbuttoned his jeans and shimmied them down his hips. He stepped out of the trousers and took the time to fold them and place them on the chair before he reached for Draco's slacks. His boxers still covered anything that needed covering, but he didn't feel any less naked. Especially when Draco suggested, "You know, I don't think those trousers will really fit properly over boxers."

Harry glared at him and said crossly, "They'll fit well enough, thanks."

Draco stepped across the few feet separating them and placed his hands on Harry's hips, his fingers digging into the thin cotton as he pulled the boy close. He pressed his lips to Harry's chastely and said, "You look delicious." The fine black slacks dropped from Harry's nerveless grip and Draco laughed, "Or you will, once you get into my clothes. So, hurry it up!"

He ducked down to snag the trousers from the floor and handed them back to Harry with a smirk. His face absolutely flaming, the Gryffindor snatched at the black cloth and quickly pulled the trousers on, zipping and buttoning them as hastily as was safe. He pulled off the red knit sweater that had been a gift from the Weasleys one year (no giant aitch on this one) and dropped it onto his jeans. Without even risking a look at the Slytherin, he pulled on the borrowed grey turtleneck as well.

It got caught on his glasses - which he hadn't bothered to remove - and Harry could hear Draco laughing again. He struggled ineffectually and felt like a total arse when Draco had to help him to hold the neck of the shirt out so that it could pass unhindered over his glasses. But once he emerged from the shirt, tousled and red with embarrassment, Draco smiled at him and there was no mockery in it. "Perfect," he said, before drawing the flustered Gryffindor in for a deep kiss. Harry soon forgot his embarrassment and buried his hands in Draco's silky white hair with a contented hum of, "Hmmm."

Draco was delighted to feel that hum reverberate through him, but he broke the kiss off with a husky whisper, "There'll be plenty of time for that later." Harry shared that promising smile and felt fully happy as he straightened his new clothes. He knew that he looked good enough to be seen with Draco, who - despite being a Death Eater and a Slytherin and his hundred of other undeniable faults - still usually made him feel as awkward and ugly as he had at Madame Malkin's that first day. Today, Harry would hold his own next to the ice prince.

He sighed in exasperation as he let Draco mess with his hair, since it always seemed to please the boy so much. Harry didn't think Draco was even aware of the satisfied glint he got in his eye when he tried to tame the impossible black strands. Once the Slytherin looked pleased and Harry resisted making a snarky comment about what a poufter he was, they seemed ready to go. But Draco held up a hand. He went over to his trunk and lifted the top, reaching inside to pull something silvery out. Dangling from his fingers was a fine silver torque, barely a quarter-inch wide and made of narrow flat links, like those in some watchbands. He let it spill into Harry's hand.

The Gryffindor stared at the glittering band and noticed that there were impossibly delicate and minuscule dragons engraved in the bright silver. He opened his mouth, but Draco spoke first: "Happy Christmas, Harry."

Draco smirked into those shocked green eyes as Harry tried to protest, "But I haven't anything to give you..."

The blonde smiled genuinely as he took the chain back from where it had pooled in Harry's hand. He held it up questioningly between his two slender hands, asking permission, and Harry nodded mutely.

"Don't worry about it," Draco explained as he stepped behind the boy. He let the chain drop down into the front of the high-necked shirt, saying, "It's not a proper gift anyhow. It's an old piece of mine, as you might've guessed by the dragon theme. I just wanted you to have something, in case..." His hands dipped down the back of what was rightfully his shirt, as he carefully hooked the tiny clasp at the back of the torque. "In case the worst should happen."

Draco had slipped his arms around Harry and held him tightly from behind. Harry couldn't say a thing; he had agreed not to ask about what Draco was planning to do, so he couldn't deny that there was a real possibility Draco might not come back from whatever it was. Instead, he relaxed into the boy's hold, letting his eyes fall shut as he clasped those arms around him. They stayed there peacefully for several minutes before finally heading up to the Great Hall.

Since everyone had been forced to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas, Dumbledore had planned a bit more than the usual small dinner. This year, the celebration would start at three and last until seven at night, with music, food, crackers and games. They walked into the Great Hall to find it edged in a forest of spun-sugar trees that shone like clear ice. The entire perimeter of the room was filled with the crystalline structures, which were glittering with tiny fluttering fairies and globular sugared fruits. The sky was overcast outside and inside the room enchanted snow seemed to be falling, though none of it ever reached the revellers.

They weren't the very last to arrive, but most of the school was already present by the time Harry and Draco showed up. While Harry looked around at the decorations appreciatively, a large number of the girls were eyeing the two of them in the same manner. Draco rolled his eyes, used to the lusty stares, and nudged Harry to get the boy's attention. "Come on, Potter, where shall we sit?" Much like had been done at the few school dances, the room had been divvied up into smaller tables. Harry led the way over to a round little table by the edge of the sweetly icy forest. He hadn't even paused to look for his Gryffindor friends.

While Harry took a seat, Draco stopped at the refreshments table and got two steaming-hot crystal mugs of butterbeer. He slid one in front of Harry, then resumed his own chair. "So," he started, as he swirled his drink, "I noticed when you were stripping - I mean, changing - that you're no longer carrying that weapon of yours. What was it? A 'gun'?"

Harry shot him a faintly amused glare and said, "Thank you for reminding me of my stunning show. And, no, I left it off tonight."

Draco smiled through his hooded eyes and said darkly, "Oh, it was a stunning show." Harry's cheekbones glowed, a faint echo of before, and Draco continued. "Do you think tonight's safe, because it's a holiday?"

The Gryffindor glared at him but then sighed, "I know, you're right. I shouldn't assume my enemies will have the same courtesy as I would. I'll definitely be armed tomorrow, despite Dumbledore's assurances."

Draco nodded thoughtfully. When Harry had told the Headmaster about the Cait Sith, he had been surprised to learn that the old man had already heard it from Snape and had already made plans. He had refused to divulge his plans, but Harry had similarly refused to tell where he had gotten his information from, so that was fair enough.

The blonde said in a carefully blank voice, "Just be careful. Even around the castle." He took a long drag of his butterbeer and Harry smiled at his ill-concealed concern, making a mental note to wear his gun - even if just to reassure his boyfriend. They moved onto lighter subjects and talked instead about the rest of the occupants of Hogwarts. Harry had been quite surprised to find out that the Slytherin's cunning also involved being incredibly observant of both the staff and students, and he probably knew about more scandals than Lavender and the Patil twins combined. Now Draco smiled maliciously and said with relish, "Did you know that there's a rumour going 'round that Blaise Zabini is really a girl?"

RON AND HERMIONE WERE ALSO enjoying their pseudo-date, but even in their euphoria they couldn't have missed Harry's entrance with the Slytherin. Everyone had gotten rather used to seeing the two of them together over the last couple months, but that didn't stop their arrival from causing a momentary hush. Harry was wearing the Death Eater's clothes again, but no one could deny that they looked good on him. A bit too good, perhaps. He looks a bit like a ponce, really, Hermione thought uncharitably.

Ron was once again shockingly reserved as he held onto her hand, "Just ignore them, if it's going to upset you so much."

Hermione smiled gratefully at him for his support and asked curiously, "Are you still fine with all this?"

Ron looked over at his best mate, who was leaning close in conversation with that white-blonde head, "I don't know. It's a rotten situation for everyone. I had a bit of a talk with Malfoy, shockingly, and I think he's for real about his feelings for Harry - disturbing as they are. I'm just not sure that either of them will be able to find a pain-free solution."

ALL IN ALL, THE DINNER passed cheerily. Harry and Draco were left to themselves, most their schoolmates giving their table a wide berth. Even Harry's few (but loyal) remaining fans didn't want to stop by if it meant dealing with Malfoy. Harry grinned at the blonde, who was wearing a black beret that had come out of a cracker, "See, you finally come in useful for something!"

Draco laughed sarcastically and said, "Oh, put on your hat, Potter." Harry's cracker had yielded a wondrously gaudy sombrero that had to be at least three foot across and had bobbles hanging around the edge.

Harry blanched and said uncomfortably, "Oh, no thanks. You can ponce around and pretend you're French, but count me out of the international fun."

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry and said, "Pretend? Moi? Pas question," and proceeded to scold and curse Harry in what sounded - to the English speaking boy--like impressively fluent French.

He smiled a silly little grin and asked, "What the hell did you just say? Do you really speak French?" Draco rolled his eyes for the second time that night, surely a new low.

He told Harry coolly, "Oui. I am French, and so I was raised speaking it, you ignorant plebeian. And you do not want me to translate what I just said."

Harry's grin widened and he needled the boy, "Oh, now I really do. Spill, Malfoy." Harry would never learn that Draco was right about these things and by the time the blonde had rattled off his speech in English, Harry was flaming red again. "You have such a fertile... imagination, Malfoy. And maybe it's different for the French, but I think most of that would be illegal in here in England."

Draco was actually more pleased that he had told the Gryffindor what he'd said, thanks to his delightful embarrassment. He leaned over and whispered something incomprehensible in Harry's ear. The boy pulled back a few inches and licked his lips to ask in an almost fearful voice, "And what does that mean?"

Draco gestured him back close and translated softly into his ear, "I want you naked again on the silk sheets of my bed." He quickly licked the Gryffindor's earlobe before the boy jerked away.

After a brief coughing fit, Harry looked up at Draco with his cheeks positively burning. He asked in a scandalized voice, "And where did you learn to say a thing like that?!"

Malfoy smiled wickedly and said softly, "I had wonderful tutors." He leaned back in his chair and watched Harry gulp his butterbeer through slitted eyes as he drawled, "So. Are you ready to go, or is it too hard to leave right now?" Harry choked on his drink and the Slytherin didn't even try to restrain his smirk.

The people near them were beginning to give them strange looks, but Draco didn't give a damn. This could well be his last night with his delightful, naive Gryffindor boyfriend and he was going to live it up. Harry hissed angrily at him, "Leave off the comments, Draco, or I will tie you to your bed and torture you."

The Slytherin bit his lip, but how could he possibly resist such an opening? He snickered as he asked Harry, nearly crying with mirth, "Is that a promise?"

The brilliant green eyes nearly crossed when Harry realized the implications of that. He grabbed the cloak that Draco had luckily made him bring and said shortly, "I'm going to get some air." Draco didn't say anything, just waved him on as he bit his other hand, trying not to laugh. The surrounding students were definitely staring now and quite a few were wondering if Draco Malfoy wasn't a bit drunk, and why Harry Potter had stalked off so stiffly, clutching his cloak around him.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Draco shoved himself up from his chair to follow Harry, swirling his own heavy black cloak around him. He found the other boy on the deserted front steps of the school and sat behind him, stretching his long legs on either side of the Gryffindor Seeker. He draped his arms over Harry's slender chest and rested his chin on the boy's shoulder, "Are you really mad?"

Harry shook his head mutely and Draco knew that he was just embarrassed; by what had been said and by his reaction to it.

The Slytherin said softly, "You know, it's perfectly natural for you to react to teasing like that. Hell, if you didn't, I'd be wondering a bit about just what we're doing together. You don't need to be embarrassed."

Harry shook his head though, and leaned against Draco, "No, it's not natural. Not to react like that with another boy." The Slytherin had never heard Harry express any aversion to their relationship, not like this. But he understood a little better when Harry whispered, "It's not natural to want to do what I want to with you. To want to..."

Draco's breath caught in his throat. Harry was talking about sex, about wanting to have sex with him. He had to take a deep breath to try to get some oxygen to his brain. Draco was a sixteen year-old boy: of course he wanted to have sex. But with Harry, it wouldn't be just sex. To a Gryffindor, it would be 'making love' and Draco didn't feel the need to scar the boy even more just for his own hormones. Sex was a complication they didn't need.

He said gently to the boy in front of him, "Harry, that's natural as well. Hell, we're sixteen. You'd probably want to sleep with any thing with legs - maybe even some without. But I don't want to do anything you might regret, since we don't know what's going to happen."

Harry turned slightly so that he could see the blonde in the faint moonlight. He kissed the boy, as if their night was already over and not just beginning, and then shocked Draco by saying, "I think I would regret more never doing it when we had the chance." Draco shook his head mutely. He couldn't do this, could he?

Stamping on his own urges, Draco had to swallow hard before he could lie to Harry, "You should think this over more. We still have until New Year, there's no rush."

Harry smiled at him, but it was so pitying that Draco couldn't imagine smiling back. "Don't lie, Malfoy. I've seen you tonight. You look like you're trying to drink in every sensation, to impress every moment into your memory. You know that time is almost up, whether you're planning on telling me or not."

The Slytherin took a shaky breath and held Harry's face between his hands. He kissed him on the forehead and breathed into that black hair, "All right."

Harry looked up at him, his eyes bright with the painful knowledge that his fears were being confirmed. He asked tremulously, "So you'll give me tonight?"

Draco blinked up at the cold stars and said distantly, "I'd give you anything I could."

DRACO HAD TAKEN HIM BY the hand and pulled him to his feet. They slipped back into the Entrance hall, but luckily no one was around to see the clasped hands beneath their voluminous cloaks. It was nearly seven, and dinner was probably winding down. Soon the whole school would be filled with the milling students. Before that could happen, they retreated back to Draco's room - but once they got there, both boys were once again uncertain and shy around each other. Once you decided something like this, how did you actually go about it?

Pulling the door to their secure room shut, Draco looked over at the Gryffindor who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He walked over to the boy and laced their fingers together again. He asked softly, "Do you understand what's going to happen? How this works?" Harry nodded shortly but didn't say anything. The Slytherin asked him, "Do you... have a preference?"

Harry burned with embarrassment, but he knew what his boyfriend was asking. He raised one hand to brush the blonde's cheek, his eyes wide behind his glasses, "I... I want you inside me, Draco."

The Slytherin nodded wordlessly, his turn to be silent as he gently removed those round-framed glasses. Harry pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth and laughed nervously, "And maybe we can try something different next time." They both smiled and willingly pretended there would be a next time. They kissed softly, tongues gliding over lips as they lightly explored each other. They were feeling shyer than they had since their first kisses, as they slowly undressed each other - silent except for the rustling of cloth and the sounds they could elicit from one another.

Harry edged onto the bed and pulled Draco down for a kiss. The boy climbed onto the bed with him and whispered into Harry's ear, "See, I got what I wanted anyway: you, naked, on my silk sheets." The Gryffindor laughed delightfully and Draco felt free enough to show his ignorance. He told him earnestly, "I don't really know what I'm doing, Potter."

Harry laughed again and said, "Neither do I, Malfoy. But I'm sure we'll figure it out."

HARRY WOKE UP ALONE IN Draco's bed. As usual, he was almost instantly alert and he rolled over on the empty bed, blinking with his blurry vision. He winced as he felt sore in places that he hadn't even known he had, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. It reminded him of the night before, and that certainly hadn't been unpleasant.

Of course there had been uncomfortable parts, which might have been painful but for the pleasure they brought. And there had been awkward moments, when the boys had to figure out just what they were doing. But they had laughed at themselves and had gotten much better after the first time or two. (And they had woken several times during the night to 'practice.')

The last time had been shortly before dawn, when the artificial windows had just begun to lighten. It had been so gentle and slow that Harry had been aware of the tears on his face and the taste of goodbye in Draco's caresses. Now he lay alone in the Slytherin's bed, clinging to the memory of Draco filling him and the perfect joy of being as close to another person as possible, and he inexplicably knew that he had been right. Draco wasn't just gone to the bathroom or to get a snack - it had been goodbye.

Harry sat up with a determined smile, luxuriating in the familiarity of Draco's dungeon room. Even though he knew he was completely alone, he felt it odd to walk around naked and so he tugged off the sheet that he and Draco had wrestled with the night before. Pulling the green silk around him like a cloak, he padded over to Draco's wardrobe. His original clothes were still folded where they had been left before dinner, and the borrowed clothes were strewn on the ground with Draco's.

He found his boxers in the pile and pulled them on quickly. Next came the jeans that he had abandoned the previous afternoon. He hesitated, though, when he picked up the red sweater that he'd brought with him. Fingering the silver chain around his neck, he left the sweater on the chair. Harry pulled open the wardrobe and rummaged through the Slytherin's closet. It was the second time now that he had woken naked in the boy's room and gone in search of clothes.

He settled on a plain but clearly expensive white sweater that looked shockingly bright against his black hair. It made his light honey-toned skin look darker, and as a result, his eyes shone like green bottle-glass.

Feeling oddly at home and calm, despite the fact that the boy he had just slept with was likely with Voldemort at this moment, he spread the sheet back on the wide bed and pulled the covers into place. He put the rest of Draco's clothes away in the wardrobe and only flushed a bit when he found the bottle of lubricant they had conjured the night before. That, Harry placed in the drawer of Draco's bedside stand. As he cleaned up the room, he found a scrap of parchment folded in half on the window seat. Sitting down in Draco's usual place, he held the small piece of paper in his hands.

He was half-afraid to unfold the plain paper, not sure if it would be a more concrete farewell. But he laughed at his own inflated imagination when he saw that there were only two lines of Draco's neat script on the paper: "See you soon. Be careful." He remembered his half-promise to the Slytherin that he would be more careful about being armed, even around the school. But he didn't jump up immediately to get his gun, instead he looked out the window at the grounds.

Harry was tempted to stay in this room. He wanted to stay safe and cocooned until dark fell again. Until Draco came back, or else the reality became undeniable. But he knew his friends would start a search party if he didn't get back to Gryffindor Tower soon. It was Christmas morning. Reluctantly, he got up and placed the paper back where he had found it. He couldn't take it with him. Picking up the red sweater again, he took one last look at the neat room and left.

HE HURRIED BACK TOGRYFFINDOR Tower, where only a few of the younger years were already up and excited about presents. He let himself quietly into the boys' dorm at the top of the Tower, and smiled when he saw his friends still deep in sleep. After adroitly tucking his gun into the holster at the back of his jeans, he yelled at them cheerfully, "Wake up, you lazy gits! It's Christmas and I know none of you got enough to drink last night to be that pissed!"

He started throwing pillows and was greeted with disgruntled groans and a rather impressive roar from Seamus, "Potter, if you don't leave off, you're going to find yourself at the wrong end of a bat-bogey curse!"

Satisfied that the boys were at least moving, Harry tumbled back down to the common room. He cut over to the girls' tower and started bounding up the stairs two at a time. As expected, the stairs turned into a smooth chute within moments, but Harry was determined. He ignored the siren that wailed throughout the entire Tower, probably waking up every single Gryffindor in the process. Laughing breathlessly, he hoisted himself up with the aid of the railing and the passably effective rubber soles on his trainers. He clung tightly to the door jamb and knocked quickly on the sixth year dorm. He called out, "Hermione, let me in! Quick!" He heard quite a few shrieks through the door before Hermione pulled it open, looking shocked and flustered in her bright yellow dressing gown.

"Harry!" He grinned at her and she asked in exasperation, "How on Earth did you get up here?" She looked past him at the steep incline where the stairs ought to have been and noticed how tightly he was clinging to the doorway. Hermione crossed her arms and said archly, "You know, it would serve you right if I shoved you out to tumble down five floors."

He begged prettily, "Please let me in, Hermione. I don't have any untoward intentions - you know that better than anyone."

She laughed at that and stepped aside to let him step onto the thankfully level and steady ground. She muttered confidentially, "That's certainly true enough." But really she was glad to see Harry so happy and cheerful. She couldn't even recall the last time she had seen him so high on life.

He walked into the room that was littered with posters, makeup, and back issues of Witch Weekly and YM (Young and Magical, that is). He smiled cheekily and said, "'Morning, girls. Happy Christmas."

They all acted embarrassed and smoothed down their hair, scolding Harry for surprising them in such a manner. But they were obviously pleased as they preened, and Harry sat contentedly as he listened to their chatter and they pressed him for gossip about the other boys. He convinced them to come down to the common room, though they insisted on a half hour to get dressed and ready. Agreeing with playful reluctance, Harry stepped out of the dorm and slid down the chute that the tower had become.

He arrived windblown and tousled in the common room, and was almost immediately followed by a shrieking Ginny. She fell nearly upon him and asked him brightly, "Morning, Harry. Did you sneak up to the girls' dorms?"

He pulled her to her feet and scolded her for her assumption, "I didn't 'sneak' into the girls' dorms. I had to hoist myself all the way up there, and it was damn hard work." She laughed at him and joined Seamus (who was her beau for the moment) on the couch by the fire. Harry was left momentarily alone and he felt the worry start to gnaw on the edges of his bright mood. He hurried over to rejoin Ginny and his friends.

Eventually, the rest of the house had managed to stagger downstairs. They exchanged gifts and everyone had a good time, joking and feeling the holiday spirit take them as they toasted bread in the fire that was burning cheerfully, thanks to all the wrappings the students added to the blaze. The Weasley twins had sent a big box of their newest creations (without telling Ron or Ginny what any of them did, of course) and there was a great deal of laughter as they discovered the effects of the various sweets and pasties. Almost everyone was back to normal (though Neville was still speaking in couplets) by the time they trooped down to the Great Hall for Christmas Lunch.

When the group of upper years that Harry was with burst in through the double doors, they found a much more grave Hall than they had left the night before.The rest of the houses had already assembled but they were not sitting at the long-house tables that normally occupied the Great Hall. Everyone was huddled in the centre of the large, echoing room and whispering urgently to one another.

The Gryffindors quickly filtered into the mass of other students and there was a lot of hurried muttering to try and update the last house on what was happening. Harry and Ginny heard it from Luna, "There's some sort of mysterious illness running about. It's hit both the Muggle and the Wizarding world, though we have been the worst affected."

Ginny held her friend's hands tightly and asked for more details. Loony Luna looked unusually serious as she said, "We don't know much. It's been mostly children who are hit, but all said, it's about thirty percent of the population. The people who have it, they quickly fall into comas. There have only been a few deaths yet, but no one knows how to cure it." She shook her head sadly and murmured, "It's surely a government conspiracy. Just horrible what they are doing to their own citizens these days." Harry was tempted to laugh, but knew that wouldn't go over well in the current atmosphere.

Everyone who wasn't a crazy conspiracy theorist knew that this was likelier than not another move by Voldemort. And the glances in Harry's direction - which had begun with the attacks earlier that year - were becoming more frequent and alarmed. Harry raised a hand to finger the band of silver around his neck, which was comforting but less alarming to the others than fingering his gun.

Dumbledore swept in through the small side door that was to the right of the staff table. He singled Harry out from among the milling students and called the boy up to him with a gesture. Feeling uncomfortable, he made his way up to the headmaster unhindered. Everyone cleared a path for him as he went.

The Boy Who Lived stood before Dumbledore, but before the man had said a word, Harry felt the silver necklace burn at his throat - and the nausea he felt at the Portkey's tug was nothing compared to the sick feeling of betrayal that swamped him as he disappeared from all Hogwarts' sight.