Second Chances

Harry awoke the next morning to find himself still wrapped in Draco's arms. He lay for a few minutes just watching the other man sleep, and then he began to gently nuzzle Draco's neck in an effort to slowly bring him to wakefulness. Harry's efforts paid off, and Draco stretched lazily, a smile curving his lips even before he opened his eyes.

"Good morning," Harry murmured in his lover's ear.

"Good morning," Draco replied. He turned on his side and pulled Harry more firmly into his embrace. A moment later, he sat up quickly, swearing under his breath.

"What is it?" Harry asked sleepily.

"It's nearly noon," Draco replied, gesturing vaguely at the clock behind Harry. He seemed to think that was a perfectly adequate explanation enough for the fact that he had vaulted out of bed and was hurriedly pulling on his clothes.

"And?" Harry asked. "It's Saturday. It isn't as if we have classes to teach."

Draco paused to give Harry a withering glare. "The children are joining me here for lunch today. You can't be here."

"Oh," Harry said softly. He slipped from beneath the warm duvet and, keeping his back to Draco, began to dress. He was rather upset by being summarily dismissed, and Draco could read the hurt in every line of Harry's body.

"Harry," Draco murmured softly, gently resting his hands on the other man's shoulders. "It isn't that I want to keep this a secret. I want to shout it from the rooftops...but it's just better for Damien not to know right now."

Harry turned to look Draco in the eye. "Don't you think you should be honest with him?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted. He sighed and straightened Harry's robes. "Severus seems to think that we should keep our relationship quiet. He saw us holding hands yesterday morning at breakfast, and asked me to exercise discretion, especially where Damien is concerned. He believes that going public with our relationship will make it that much harder to get through to Damien."

With a tired sigh, Harry nodded. He knew that Snape was right, that his relationship with Draco could very well make it more difficult to help the troubled youth. Looking up at Draco, he managed a weak smile. "I can't help being disappointed," he admitted. "It would be nice if we could actually just lie in bed for a while after waking in one another's arms."

Draco laughed softly and pulled Harry close to him. "Yes, it would be nice. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Harry. Perhaps I could make it up to you?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"I thought if you've nothing pressing, we could slip away tonight and go into Hogsmeade. You could come home with me, and we could have a nice, romantic candlelit dinner," Draco suggested. "We could spend the night together, and wake up in each other's arms without having to hurry away."

Harry beamed his approval. "I like the way you think," he said, stretching up to press his lips to Draco's.

"It's settled then," Draco replied. "Meet me outside the wards around 7:00?"

"I'll see you then," Harry agreed. They sealed the pact with a kiss before Draco peered into the hallway. Seeing that the coast was clear, he ushered Harry out, the both of them grinning foolishly at the absurdity of sneaking around the school like a couple of naughty students.

*** *** ***

"Sorry I'm late. Lunch with Dad ran a little later than I expected," Damien said by way of greeting as he slid into the deserted Quidditch stands next to Armand Delacour.

"I haven't been waiting long," Armand assured him. "Now what is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

"I have an idea I want to run by you," Damien explained. "I think it could be beneficial to both of us."

"I'm listening," Armand replied, turning to study the younger boy's face.

Damien began to outline his idea - one he hoped would reconcile him with his siblings, placate the other Slytherins, and earn him the respect of his classmates all in one fell swoop. For Armand, he explained, the plan should have the benefits of impressing Sera Malfoy and furthering his own ambitions. Armand listened carefully, sitting in quiet contemplation for some minutes after Damien finished speaking.

"I think I rather like the idea," he said at last.

"You do?" Damien asked, both relieved and slightly surprised.

"Of course I do. I only wish I'd thought of it."

Damien grinned so widely it made his cheeks ache. He had hoped the older boy would accept his plan and help him with it; that Armand genuinely liked the scheme was an added bonus that pleased Damien immensely. "There's just one problem," he said, his grin fading into a worried frown.

"What's that?"

"Wood."

Armand laughed. "He'll go along gamely enough if he thinks it will get him in good with Uncle Harry."

"Why should he care what Potter thinks?" Damien asked with a scowl.

"You're so cute," Armand deadpanned. "What rock have you been living under, Malfoy? The entire school knows that Wood wants Uncle Harry."

"Wants?" Damien asked in a strangled voice.

"Wants," Armand confirmed. "As in would do anything to shag him."

Damien made a disgusted noise, his face wrinkling up, and Armand laughed at him.

"Don't be such a child, Malfoy," Armand admonished him. "Anyway, we'd best go before someone decides to interfere in our business. I'll talk to Wood and let you know what he says." With that, Armand stood and made his way down from the Quidditch stands.

A moment later, Damien stood as well. As he headed back towards the castle, his thoughts bounced from the satisfaction of seeing his plan put into action to the disappointment of realising that the Quidditch star, who he actually admired, fancied men. The more he thought about Oliver, however, the more forgiving he became of the man's proclivity. In fact, he began to feel quite charitable toward the man and decided that he would do anything he could to see that Wood got what he wanted. After all, if Wood managed to woo Potter then Harry might actually stop making calf-eyes at Father. And the less he had to worry about Potter taking his dad away from him, the happier he would be.

*** *** ***

Harry had been waiting outside the gates for only a few minutes when Draco strode into view, his head held high and his cloak whipping in the chill breeze that had sprung up rather unexpectedly. Harry crossed his arms across his chest, trying to stay warm in the rapidly cooling air, and fell into step beside Draco. "How was your lunch date?" he asked.

"It went rather well, actually," Draco replied. Catching the edge of his cloak, he wrapped his arm -and the cloak - around Harry and pulled him in close to his side. "The boys were on their best behaviour. They actually managed a rather civil conversation. I hadn't dared hope for as much after their boxing match on Monday."

"You knew about that?"

Draco chuckled. "Of course I knew about it. Sera let it slip the very next day, but another matter pushed it to the back of my mind."

Harry sighed, knowing that the other matter Draco referred to was the defacement of his classroom. Draco responded to Harry's sigh by giving his arm a little reassuring squeeze.

"Speaking of which," Draco continued, "Severus apparently has had an epiphany, or a stroke of genius, or some such thing in regards to his reeducation of Damien. I only hope he can reverse the damage my father has done."

"I've no doubt that he can change Damien's opinion of Lucius," Harry replied. "He knows things that would likely shock even you. I'm worried how revealing such things will affect Damien. Snape's secrets aren't exactly the kind an impressionable young mind needs to hear."

"I know more than you might think, Harry," Draco said softly. "I sincerely hope that Severus finds another way to get through to Damien. I'd prefer my son be spared the nightmarish stories of my father's past."

After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Harry managed to steer the conversation to safer topics. He asked how Draco's classes were going, and for the remainder of the walk to the Malfoy cottage, the two men talked of nothing more personal than their classes and students.

At the cottage, Draco invited Harry to make himself comfortable in the family room while he saw to dinner.

"Nonsense," Harry replied with a little smile. "I'll help you."

So the two men worked side by side. Harry hand-fed Draco a choice bit from the salad he was throwing together, biting his lip to hold back a moan when Draco nibbled on his fingers in the process of retrieving the morsel. A short time later, Draco offered Harry a taste of the sauce he was simmering. With a mischievous grin, Harry accepted the offer, bypassing the spoon Draco held out to him in favour of tasting the sauce from Draco's lips. The gentle teasing continued thus all though the preparation of dinner and through the meal itself, interspersed with lighthearted banter and easy conversation.

After dinner, Draco led Harry up the stairs and headed straight for the bath. He set the taps to begin filling the enormous clawfoot tub and then turned his attention to undressing Harry.

"When I first saw this tub, I thought it was a shame I didn't have anyone to share it with," Draco said, making quick work of the catches on Harry's robes. "I rarely use it. It's much too big for one person; it seemed to emphasise my hopelessly unattached state."

Harry toed off his shoes and tossed his robes aside. "So this is fulfilling some sort of fantasy of yours?" he asked, amused.

"Oh yes," Draco answer in a low, husky tone. He seductively stripped off his own clothing and added it to the heap of Harry's clothes. He pulled Harry into his arms and nuzzled his neck. "Isn't it every man's fantasy to have a pretty boy to scrub his back?" he murmured against Harry's throat, fighting hard to keep a smirk from his lips.

Harry laughed, hugging Draco tightly. "You're so odd," he remarked.

Draco didn't argue. He just smiled and leaned his forehead against Harry's. He rubbed their noses together, drawing a rather unmanly giggle from his lover.

"You've still too many clothes on," Draco noted, pulling away to shuck the last of his own clothing. He climbed into the tub, turned off the taps, and watched as Harry stripped off his socks and boxers before climbing in as well.

Harry settled between Draco's legs, his back pressed against Draco's chest and the back of his head resting on Draco's shoulder. Draco, in turn, rested against the high, sloped back of the tub, his head dipped slightly forward and turned into the side of Harry's face and his arms wrapped loosely around Harry's chest.

For a long time, they merely sat in the warm water, embracing lightly and content just to be together. After quite some time had passed, however, Harry slipped out of Draco's arms and moved to straddle his lover's lap. Their lips and tongues met in a slow, sensual dance, the intensity gradually building until slow and sensual gave way to bruising, demanding, and possessive.

By the time they finally climbed from the tub, sated for the moment, the water had grown quite cold.

*** *** ***

For Harry, waking the next morning in Draco's arms, secure in the knowledge that they had the entire day in which to enjoy one another's company, was one of the better moments in his life. As he watched Draco sleep, he felt a peace and contentment he had never known. Snuggling closer to his lover, he closed his eyes, trying to etch every detail of the moment in his memory: the love he felt for this man beside him, the softness of Draco's skin beneath his fingers, the heat of Draco's body where it touched his own. Without even realising it, he followed his thoughts down into the spiral of sleep.

When Harry awoke again it was to the warm wetness of Draco's lips and tongue tracing a trail of fire over his skin. They took their time, teasing, caressing, exploring one another's bodies and learning the finer points of pleasing each other. For once, there was no urgency, and they were able to lose themselves, heedless of the passing of time.

The two men spent most of the day in bed, sometimes making love and sometimes just lying wrapped up in one another's arms, dragging themselves from their nest only when necessary. It was the most perfect day that Harry could ever recall, and he hoped with everything that he was that there would be many other such perfect days with the man he loved.

*** *** ***

On Monday morning, notices popped up all over the school announcing that the Quidditch tryouts had been moved to the weekend. Current team members were to meet with Master Wood on Tuesday afternoon during the time that had originally been set aside for tryouts. Hopefuls were encouraged to attend the tryouts on Saturday morning and to try for any position, vacant or not. The notices became the hot topic of conversation as students and teachers alike speculated on the reasons for the unexpected changes.

*** *** ***

Tuesday afternoon found Snape sitting in his office contemplating his latest - and next-to-last - stratagem in his struggle to save Damien Malfoy. A knock at the door drew him from his musings, and he moved at once to open the door.

"Narcissa. What a pleasant surprise," Snape greeted the woman at his door. Neither his voice nor his manner suggested that he was either surprised or pleased, but Narcissa had known the man long enough to know his words were more than just a social nicety.

"I shouldn't think you would be surprised, Severus," Narcissa returned, stepping into his office. "After all, you did ask for my assistance."

"Please, sit down," he offered, with a gesture towards a chair. "I wasn't expecting you to come to Hogwarts."

"What would you have me do when one of my grandchildren is in danger?" she responded coolly, taking the offered seat and setting her shoulder bag down carefully at her feet. Without waiting for a response, she continued. "I should like to see Damien."

"He's serving detention with Professor Potter at the moment, so it shouldn't be difficult to track him down."

Narcissa crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. "In a moment, then. Severus, I must admit that I was surprised when I received your owl. It isn't that I was surprised to learn that Damien had been negatively influenced by his grandfather, or that you are concerned about Damien following blindly in Lucius' footsteps. I am concerned as well. What I don't understand is the emphasis you placed on the troubles between Damien and Potter - and the vague way in which you spoke of those troubles."

Severus remained quiet for a moment, trying to decide how best to explain the situation. "As a Hogwarts teacher, Potter deserves the respect of his students. Damien has been anything but respectful. In fact, he and some of his year-mates made Potter the butt of a rather cruel prank this past week."

"What sort of prank?"

"Potter arrived to teach the second year Slytherins and found his classroom had been vandalized -- homophobic epithets on the blackboard...his desk spelled pink...a slightly obscene drawing of him dressed in drag."

To Snape's surprise, Narcissa smiled. "So what you are saying, without coming right out with it, is that you're concerned about Damien's behaviour toward Potter because Draco has fallen in love with the man."

"Essentially, yes."

"You should have just said," Narcissa chastised. "Or did you think that I share my husband's prejudice against such inclinations?"

"I would not presume to guess your thoughts on the subject."

"As long as my son is happy, I don't give a whit who he chooses to love - provided the person in question doesn't treat my grandchildren the way that Pansy did." She smiled wryly. "Despite the unconventionality of their relationship, I'm actually quite pleased with Draco's choice. A connection with Potter will be a great help in redeeming the Malfoy name."

An almost-smile turned up the very corners of Snape's mouth. He was glad to know that Narcissa was very firmly in Draco's corner. Unlike Narcissa, he himself would have been decidedly more pleased had Draco found someone other than Potter to involve himself with, but since Potter was the man that Draco had chosen to give his heart to, Severus would do all in his power to help the two of them.

Narcissa retrieved a box from her shoulder bag and set it on the desk in front of Snape. "I should like to see Damien now," she said, lifting the lid to reveal a pensieve nestled inside the box. "I have a gift for him."