My Own

I love the slash and I love reviews. Don't be afraid to leave constuctive (not flaming) critisism.


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Episode 1

One Thing After Another

"Potter," Draco Malfoy called from the patio. The Boy Who Lived appeared in seconds panting like a madman. Draco looked at him repulsively. "What have you been doing?" Draco eyed him curiously, seeing sweat dripping down his bare bronze rippled torso. Harry shook his head, flinging sweat droplets from his black hair onto Draco, who flinched in hostility. "Watch it!" He hastily wiped the foul moisture from his arms and face.

"Sorry," apologized Harry, pushing his round O glasses up his nose. "I was having a bit of a go on Nebula." Draco shook his head. Harry, over the years, had become an avid Quidditch fanatic and a racing broom collector. At twenty-three years old, Harry had never lost his boyishness.

"I see," said Draco distastefully. "Sit down, Potter, I need to talk to you about something." Harry looked apprehensively into his face.

"Oh no," he uttered pathetically.

"Oh hush Potter, it isn't all that bad," said Draco irritably. Every time he tried to have a serious conversation with him, he always messed it up somehow. Having a sincere discussion was hard enough for Draco, even after three years, without him dragging it out in all the wrong directions.

"I'm sorry I just had to have it," said Harry frantically. "I was all wet and dripping and hot and bothered. It just was so tempting sitting there all soft and cuddly like. Unfortunately, I had it on and went to the door to get the post. It was a letter from Carlo and I was going to write back and all I saw was a quill and inkwell and then the inkwell somehow, because of my unluckiness, and accursed life, spilled over and got all over it." He breathed it out quickly as if it would make the blow easier. "I. Am. So. So. SO. Sorry."

"What?" asked Draco, not comprehending. At the same exact moment, Draco registered what Harry had just confessed. His forest green, terry cloth, personally embroidered, lovely bathrobe had been ruined. He knew it was this because he treasured it and Harry knew it as well. Draco looked back at his supposed lover. Completely ruined.

"Y-you didn't know?" Harry blinked so wide it made him look owlish.

Draco stood up slowly and smiled grimly. "You are so dead, Potter." Harry looked very, very alarmed. And he should be, thought Draco. He strode purposely into their spacious bedroom and stepped through the secret passageway that led into Valhalla. That was what Harry called it, Valhalla, because his prized possessions in there led him closest to it. Draco heard Harry practically shrieking at him to stop. But no, he ruined a perfectly exquisite and comfortable high-quality bathrobe. He had to pay.

He looked around at all the brooms in their clear cases, with their golden names embossed in the polish wood above the cases, about the wall. The room was circular, with the sky painted on the walls, showing the many precipitations there were. Draco took a small pair of scissors out of the drawer full of broom maintenance products, which Harry used to inscribe his name on his old brooms before he could order them that way.

Draco turned to lock Harry out the room from the inside. The clear soundproof glass door slid silently across the threshold, preventing sound and thoroughly thwarting his frantic lover from entering. Ah, Muggle-tech did have its high points. Harry shouted at the glass, looking terribly distressed and red faced. Draco smacked a big mock kiss and blew it at him. He yelled at the door now, pressing against it, fully enraged it seemed.

Draco ignored him and walked over to his oldest broom. The Firebolt. Draco remembered Harry's first broom, the Nimbus 2000 that was destroyed in his third year and when Harry got a new Firebolt, it made him very jealous. He used to be so jealous of Saint Potter who always got everything. It was a beautiful broom. Pity, it would have Draco's scratches all over it soon.

He pressed the pleasantly red button, on the information stand next to it. All the cases had information stands next them. Draco felt this was entirely pointless, seeing as Harry was the only was who usually came in here.

The hard plastic slid noisily, mechanically up, and Draco noticed as it moved, the smell of melon, or some kind of fruit smell emitted from it. He smiled wickedly at his prey. The broom shone beautifully as though it were still brand new. Ah, yes, such a pity. Poising the scissors above the Firebolt stamp -- Something grabbed him hard and flung him to the floor on his back.

They wrenched the scissors from his grasp and pressed painfully against him, full flush. Blinking out the coloured dots in his eyes, Draco looked up to see a scarlet faced, huffing Harry. He held both of Draco's wrists with his strong hands, and placed a significant amount of pressure on his legs.

"I said I was sorry," panted Harry, who looked as if he were close to being violently insane.

"That robe was perfection," spat Draco. He loved that robe.

"Must you always be such a posh git?"

"You love this posh git though."

"Only because you give good massages... everywhere."

"Must you always be so vulgar?"

"I speak the truth is all. In addition, there was nothing vulgar about my statement. You just acquired it from, whatever it is you posh perverted gits think about. I see how much of a freak you really are, if you can find something vulgar with my sentence, or should I say, that sentence."

Draco blew an exasperated breath out. "Just get off me you bloody broom-lover."

"I don't know if I can trust you," said Harry uneasily. "You tried to scar my first beloved. I don't know whether it's jealously or plain destructiveness."

"You have ruined my robe and to think I never suspected you when it went missing. Your boyish ways have damaged the logical part of my brain."

"Are you saying you can't trust me not to demolish objects, especially personal possessions?"

"I am saying," said Draco, pausing to let it sink, "that you are as clumsy on the ground, as McGonagall is on a broomstick in the air. Who knows what things could be innocently destroyed in your path?"

"Innocently?"

"Yes innocently. No one ever blames the Boy-Who-Lived for anything that happens. It's just a bloody condition of his life. And all that rubbish."

"Whatever, you know I don't believe such nonsense."

"To the outside world, it doesn't matter one flick of your outrageous wild hair, what you believe. It's what they want to see. The GOLDEN CHAMPION of ALL EVAL!"

"Whatever. You can't talk anyway. Hypocrite."

"Hypocrite? And why exactly, can't I talk?"

"Because you have the physical control of a three-year-old fat kid in a sweets store?"

Draco was deeply offended by being called fat.

"I most certainly am not fat!"

"Depend on you to only realise the physical references. You're always touching things. You can't get close to anything without copping a feel. I saw the way you groped that statue of that naked bloke."

Draco flushed. "I was merely appreciating the craftsmanship and imagination of the creator's work. And, I did not grope."

"Sure," said Harry sceptically. "Stop being such a tosser and let me get this out."

"Unbelievable prat," said Draco, mockingly hurt. "You're probably cheating on me with one of those stupid brooms. I bet it's that Firebolt. Yeah, Harry and his Firebolt. That has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Fucker. Shut up and listen. Or you might lose your trophy boyfriend."

"A bastard who ups and ruins my perfect robe? Nah, go blow yourself."

"Or you could blow me like you usually do. But unfortunately, at this time, I don't think I'll give you the pleasure of doing so."

Draco began another retort that Harry quickly cut off with a speedy kiss. "Be quiet. You'll love me when I tell you."

Draco stared at him in disdainful anticipation.

"I couldn't restore your robe and the professionals couldn't either," said Harry slowly. He held up another hand to silence Draco again. "God, can't you ever stop talking, and bite back the sarcastic remark on the tip of your delicious tongue?" Even though Draco was pissed, the complement was not lost on him. "I bought a new one, and," paused Harry, "all the other colours too."

Draco felt as if the world turned upside down, and that Harry was indeed the trophy boyfriend. However, he couldn't let him know it just yet.

"How dare you try to buy me off," snapped Draco indignantly. "It's the principle of the whole thing!"

"You're name is embroidered in each - and - every - one - of - them."

A wave a passion swept Draco from his evil musings. "Come here, Potter." He gave Harry a very brazen kiss and rolled him over. "I love you," panted Draco. He plucked Harry's glasses off his face and proceeded to thank him in a most thoroughly satisfying way.

*

Five days later, Draco sat at his desk at his establishment of, Posh and Trendy, finishing organising the articles of his popular magazine. Draco hit the intercom for his secretary Kel, who happened to be so terribly attractive, it was a sin, and he had to be damned everlastingly for continually gracing the unattractive world with his gorgeousness, to schedule a meeting for him. Kel's smooth deep voice said, "No problem. I'll notify everyone about it."

"Thanks," Draco managed to squeak out. Kel always made Draco nervous and wondered vaguely why. He was totally happy with Harry, but something about Kel, made him turn foolishly into a fifteen-year-old boy when he was around him. It was completely mystifying to Draco and he thought on it no longer. He just wanted to get home to bathe, just so he could wear a different one of those wonderful bathrobes.

A very large, fat black owl flew into his pristine office, landed malting and wet, on his desk, poking its leg out. Draco quickly pushed the owl away from all his important work, and stuffed the papers rather roughly into the drawers, before throwing a dark scowl at the intruder.

Abruptly, Kel bounded into the room, panting hard. His long dark golden hair was skewed atop his head, ringlets swirling about his flushed face.

"I tried to stop it," he huffed, "but that's a strong bird." Draco saw his feather covered hands.

Draco felt revolted that the bird did that to Kel, and excused Kel to clean himself up, while he dealt with the opposing bird. He took the dripping parchment tied to the owl's horrid leg and opened it.

He couldn't read any of it. It was so wet, that all the ink had smudged and ran around the parchment like a child's scrawl. Draco didn't feel like dealing with the entire hubbub tonight so he waved the bird off.

"Off with you!"

The bird screeched meanly and flew out. Draco pressed his fingers into his temple, trying to prevent the unstoppable headache. He got up and prepared to leave when someone opened the door. Draco had his back to the door and said without looking, "Kel, go on home, there's nothing else I need." He heard shoes tapping in the outside hall. Need to get that carpeted, Draco thought offhandedly.

"Someone's here to see you," said Kel, hesitantly.

"Now?" said Draco impatiently. "Tell them to take an appointment tomorrow. I'm leaving."

"Oh no. I think you want to see me."

Draco flinched when he heard that voice. It was Delinda Hassey, Harry's manager. She was a tough, straightforward, black woman, with very short glossy curly hair. She wore a dark brown miniskirt, to complement her caramel complexion, with a black low neckline blouse. She hardly ever wore makeup because she had natural beauty. Draco could swear that woman wanted Harry for herself. Open hostility was necessary for her.

"What are you doing here?" asked Draco meanly.

She smirked crookedly at him. "I've come to tell you the condition of your sweetheart."

Draco eyed her speculatively. "What do you mean his condition?"

Delinda looked annoyed for a moment. "That ruddy bird did get here didn't it?"

"That ruddy bird gave me this," said Draco, handing her the illegible letter. "It was destroyed before it got here."

Delinda rolled her eyes. She looked at him straight, in a way that made Draco uneasy.

"Harry's been hurt," said Delinda bluntly.

"How bad?" asked Draco, fearing the truth.

"We think someone on the other team tampered with the bludgers."

Draco sat down on his desk with a sinking feeling.

"Both bludgers hit Harry. One broke his arm and the other almost tore his fucking leg off." She looked quite angry.

Draco wanted to vomit. If this were the end of Harry's Quidditch career, Harry wouldn't be able to endure it; he just knew it. Draco wanted to cry too. He'd hate to see Harry's life and blood, just evaporate because someone couldn't bear losing.

"He was some feet above the ground when he fell. Weasley grabbed him, but, Harry slipped and... well he broke his other arm."

Draco fought back tears and looked at her. "Did you see everything?"

Dear Merlin, now she even looked as though she would cry too. It must be very, very bad. "Yeah, I wished I could've saved him. He's at St. Mungo's, recovering. I don't know what the doctors say about his injuries, since he said that you be told immediately."

Draco smiled wanly and put his coat and things on. "What did your brother have to say?" Carlo Magnus was Delinda's brother by marriage. Delinda didn't get along with Carlo's father. Nor did she with Carlo, but they came to a reluctant peace truce years ago.

"I told him to come here in person, because I knew that bloody bird wouldn't deliver the message somehow, but he insisted on going with Harry. You'd think that was his boyfriend the way he carried on."

Draco winced and wondered if she was insinuating something. It was hard to believe that Carlo, was anything other than straight, though. He was what you would call the god of masculinity. There was no mistaking that Carlo liked only women. Draco put that into his memory bank for 'later things' and walked out with Delinda.

"Lock up for me, Kel," called Draco from the corridor. He was hurrying down the hall. "I'll be at St. Mungos for the night and I might not be in tomorrow." Well, Draco thought grimly, buttoning his coat, off to St. Mungos.

*

Leaving their wands at the desk, Draco and Delinda, walked through the almost vacant spotless hospital. Arriving in the room, Draco was confronted with a truly atrocious sight. Carlo was sitting in a stiff looking chair, sleeping, but clutching Harry's lifeless hand. Harry was all bandages and bruises. It seemed his arm he'd hurt while falling, wasn't broken, but there were a few torn tendons and ligaments. Harry's face was an ugly colour of grey and bruises were all over his swelling face.

Suddenly, Harry convulsed, and Draco took an involuntary step back. He wasn't used to seeing people like this, he'd never really been in a hospital, and scarcely ever saw the infirmary when he attended Hogwarts. That is, of course, excluding all the 'trials' his father made him go through. Harry's eyes fluttered open and his hand tightened upon Carlo's hand.

"Draco..." rasped Harry, looking at Carlo. "Draco?"

Carlo sat up right, and looked worriedly at Harry. "It's me Carlo, Harry." Carlo bent down to whisper into Harry's ear, seeing how moving was literally nearly impossible him.

Harry's eyes whirled frantically around the room. He stiffly pulled his hand free of Carlo's and called out, "Draco? Where are you?" Draco had brusquely pushed Carlo to the side. He was at Harry's side before he said the second syllable in Draco's name. Draco hurriedly whispered reassuring nonsense to Harry, as he stroked his hand, since everywhere else was practically no man's land. Harry looked up lovingly at Draco, eyes huge and green.

"I can't believe you left me to the hands of the famed 'Panty Snatcher King'." Harry managed a weak smile, which looked as though it hurt and distorted his features even more.

"I do not snatch anyone's pants," huffed Carlo. He was an impressive sight. He stood at an unnatural six foot four, pure muscle, wit, and brains. He had wavy wheat coloured hair that always shone, and was truly golden. Hell, back in Greek times, he may have been considered Hercules himself. "They give their pants up very willingly."

Harry breathed out a chuckle because laughing would hurt too much. Draco stared daggers at Carlo and said, "You're not needed here anymore thong chaser." He turned back to tending to Harry.

"Thong Chaser?" repeated Carlo, from behind Draco.

Draco turned to him and said sweetly, "That is what young ladies are wearing nowadays isn't it?" Carlo scowled and left the room with his stepsister who was smiling. Smiling was a rare affair for her. Draco could've sworn he heard her murmur, "Thong Chaser? That's a new one and mighty creative."

Unfortunately, before Draco could have Harry all to himself, a nurse wearing the nametag 'Nurse Olimpi Sway' came into the room. His bones would be fine in few hours but the tenderness would heal naturally. The injured muscles could be remedied with potions, but they could only help so much. She said that he might be able to return home in at least two weeks, and said that he could continue playing Quidditch, but it was necessary for Harry to recover for the next ten to thirteen months, due to the injuries of his muscles. Good thing he didn't have any more games for the year.

Harry asked if he could still fly his broom when he got home, and to his disappointment, she said no. However, she suggested other tenuous exercises be practiced instead. Sex would probably be out of the question, Draco thought dejectedly. Nevertheless, Harry, bolder than he used to be years ago, asked anyway.

"Can we still be intimate?"

The nurse smiled wryly. "Yes you can, if it isn't too strenuous." Harry winked lewdly at Draco. Draco shook his head smiling and was surprised when the nurse chuckled gaily. It seemed she wasn't like all the other pompous and haughty mediwizards. Maybe it was because she was a nurse. He smiled at her. She checked on Harry and then left them to their privacy.

*

For a week, Draco had left early from work everyday in order to see Harry. Visiting hours were infuriately short and utterly too far and in between, but Olimpi, as Draco had come to call her, would extend time especially for him. He'd always thanked her every time, which was an unusual thing for him to do.

Harry healed up perfectly, as usual, and was feeding himself in no time. Wizards were now intertwining Muggle technology, and the medical field was becoming more informed and appealing to numerous people. Draco always sat with him and read the Daily Prophet to him. Of course, Harry being who he is complained he only needed the sports section. Draco just wished he'd be a little more open-minded about certain things; he was gay for Merlin's sake.

Draco didn't notice Harry looking solemnly at nothing while he was reading the paper. It wasn't until Harry tugged the sleeve of his cashmere violet shirt, that Draco noticed him. Draco was disturbed by Harry's expression.

"Something wrong?" asked Draco concerned.

Harry looked very pensive when he looked at Draco. "I've been thinking a lot whenever you're not here." Draco wondered if Harry couldn't think in presence, and if so, why? Harry didn't stop there though. "Now that this has happened, I've thought about something, that used to only fleet in and out of my mind every now and then. I could've been killed a few days ago. Over a game. I love Quidditch, but not so much to cheat or want to practically kill another fellow Quidditch player. The fucking bastard nearly mangled me. Anyway... The thought of my spirit leaving the earth, without as so much of a trace of me, except for photos and memories, kind of disturbs me. I wish I could leave something solid, real... I don't know..."

Draco's heart leapt in his chest. The topic that was forgotten over the anger of the destroyed bathrobe presented itself. Now was the perfect time to discuss what Draco had in mind for the future.

"Oh Harry," breathed Draco. He could hardly keep his excitement in. "I've been wanting to speak with you about this-" Carlo burst in the door with the rest of the Quidditch team. The giddiness Draco felt now had all but dissipated, he felt sick. It was like being close to climax and completely stopping.

Bloody Hell.

"Harry!" The flame haired man practically hurled himself at the bed. "How you doing, mate?"

Draco saw Harry smile broadly at his freckled best friend Ronald Weasley. Ron grew taller the last few years of Hogwarts, though he stayed the same; the most difference was that his facial features were sharper.

"Hey Ron," said Harry still smiling. "I'm fine, and aren't you forgetting to greet someone else?" Harry looked pointedly at Draco.

Ron looked over to Draco with mild irritation. "Mal - er, Draco."

At least he's growing up, thought Draco wryly. They used to hate each other with a fierceness that Snape couldn't even rival. It was worse when Draco and Harry announced their relationship. Insults and thunderous rows. Yes, those were the days. Nevertheless, people had to mature, if not for their own sake, then for Harry. "Weas - uh, Ronald." Ron flinched; he never liked his whole name to be said. Draco enjoyed the flinching.

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

Draco suddenly noticed that there more people in the room than just the Quidditch team. Flaming hail! The whole Weasley family was there, including Ron's fiancée, Hermione Granger. All Draco saw was a whirlwind of flaming hair. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were fussing at the foot of the bed, Fred and George were standing on either side at the foot of bed making lewd jokes about Harry's immobility and being susceptible for rape, Ginny was practically in bed with Harry putting her hand over his forehead. Bill and Charlie were surprisingly on vacation at the same time, so they were there too. Percy was in Harry's ear opposite of Ginny, telling him about the best lawyers to get for court. Hermione and Ron stood beside Draco to watch the flurry of movement. Ron just shook his head.

"I think my family cares too much," he said.

Draco slowly nodded his head in disturbing agreement. "I think you're on to something there, Ron."

Hermione smiled, while it took a few seconds for Draco and Ron to notice Draco used Ron's name in a friendly manner. They looked at each other frowning, then shrugged and turned back to the horde of Weasleys and Quidditch players. Ginny was still leaning over Harry 'checking' his vitals. Draco then felt a presence beside him and looked up into Carlo's stony blue eyes.

"You just had to ruin it, didn't you?" asked Draco, who wished everyone would Apparate and never come back.

"Ruin what?" replied Carlo.

"Can't you just leave me and Harry be for a few days, months, years, or how about forever?"

"I'm the team captain, and I doubt Harry's going to quit. The only way, you'll probably stop seeing me is if I get replaced on the team. No, wait. Harry and I are friends, so even if that happened, I doubt you would stop seeing me then. The only real way would be that Harry ceased contact with me or if I died."

Draco smiled coldly at him. "I hope it's the latter." Carlo just glared at him and moved away. Now how to remove all these needless people, thought Draco. Abruptly, Sunny, Ginny's husband, walked in equally overwhelmed by all the people in the room. Draco noted the expression on his face when he saw Ginny virtually lying next to Harry, who looked overburdened with everyone trying to speak to him. Draco liked Sunny and looked to him pleadingly, and fortunately, Sunny liked Draco too and nodded with understanding. Draco couldn't have repressed the grateful smile to save his life while Sunny rounded everyone up with a speech.

"Harry." The green eyed man looked up and when Ginny saw whom spoke she jumped up guilty with a blush invading her cheeks. Draco saw that for the slightest moment, Sunny narrowed his eyes at her, but it was quickly gone. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," replied Harry, smiling nervously at them all. He never liked being put on the spot. Ironic considering his life.

"Will you still be able to play Quidditch?"

"Yep."

"In how long?"

"Nine months, for sure."

"When will you be leaving here?"

"Soon." Draco silently praised Harry for not being more specific. All he needed was another surprise gathering like this again and he would be in Azkaban for Avada Kedavra-ing everyone. Sunny gallantly continued and Draco did a loud whoop in his mind.

"I think I speak for everyone, when I say I'm glad that you're fine and able to continue your Quidditch career," said Sunny, beaming at Harry. "I think I speak for you, Harry, as well when I say that if the nurse finds us all in here we'll all be blacklisted. I know I speak for Draco when I say he would like some private time with Harry, alone. And wants us all to bugger off, so everyone let's move out." He did a mock salute and held his arm out to Ginny who looked sad to leave Harry. Draco saw the narrowed eyes again and the quick recession of them. He vaguely wondered what was going on between the seemingly happy couple.

Everyone left, leaving all sorts of candy, flowers, and souvenirs. Ron, Hermione, Percy, Carlo, and Delinda were left besides Draco. Olimpi rushed into the room and looked around the room.

"I heard there were like, fifty people in here," said Olimpi panting.

"There were," said Ron, smiling embarrassedly. "My family and the Quidditch team."

"Oh... well, they're all gone now," said Olimpi, waving it off as if it were insignificant. "Umm, I'm sorry but you all have to go. I can give you a few extra minutes Draco."

Carlo feigned hurt. "How come he gets special treatment?"

"Because Harry gives him special treatment if you know what I mean," said Olimpi cheekily. Ron looked as though he would be ill. "Now out with you."

Draco grinned triumphantly at Carlo, while Delinda hauled him out the door. Ron hugged Harry as best as he could, while Hermione chastely kissed his cheek before they left. Percy had to be cajoled out the door by the couple.

"Ricky Ripley, is a excellent choice you know!" yelled Percy, as Ron pulled him through the doorway. Olimpi and Hermione winked at them before closing the door.

Draco turned to Harry. "Well, that was unexpected, wasn't it?" Harry smiled weakly. "Harry, I think Ginny's still in love with you..." Harry appeared to express incredulity until he noticed Draco's expression didn't waver.

"We're just friends and her and Sunny are deeply in love. She couldn't be in love with me," protested Harry. Draco could swear occasionally that Harry was so blind to the most obvious things. Fortunately, Draco didn't feel like debating Ginny Weasley tonight.

"Whatever," said Draco. "Now, before those heathens burst in and stormed your bed, we were talking about the future. Our future. You and I, Harry." Draco gathered Harry's hand in his and smiled tenderly at him.

"Draco, I would love to speak with you about this now," began Harry, to Draco's dismay, "but I'm knackered and I would really like to sleep. Sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Draco reassured him. He masked the disappointment in expression and tone. He kissed Harry's forehead. "You need your rest and you'll get it. We can talk about it later, okay?"

Harry nodded boyishly and turned on his side. Draco tucked him in and pulled the covers up to his chin. He turned out the light before leaving and stood silently looking at Harry. He looked just a like a little boy, all cute, tucked in, and sleeping.

"Goodnight, my love," whispered Draco, closing the door.

* * * * *

Harry just finished the physical exam with Sway, the nurse Olimpi, as he'd come to call her. This was the last day of being in St. Mungo's and Harry was extremely overjoyed to be going home. Home to Draco. The comfort of his arms and warmth of his naked body next to him would be more than welcomed. The sweet surrender of being in his custom made bathtub would be refreshing. Even better would be having Draco to his self, not being restricted to certain hours and no one peeking in on them every few minutes. He missed his little peach house and all the woods that surrounded it. They weren't far from The Burrow, but far enough, as Draco would say. Hermione wanted to live in a wizard house since she was used to plain Muggle homes. Hermione and Ron would move there when they got Mr. and Mrs. Weasley their dream home. It was all Hermione's idea, and Ron went along with it, but reluctantly, saying he'd grew up in that house and would've liked to leave it. Those two would be married soon enough.

Soon, Harry thought, they would even have little bushy redheaded Weasleys running around. Children. Harry thought it was a nice idea and almost sort wished he could. He already knew that if he introduced the idea to Draco, of a woman being in their relationship forever because of a child, Draco would probably ask him what was he on and was he, in fact, a homosexual. He didn't think Draco would even like children. Draco was sort of selfish and didn't like to share very much. In addition, there would be messes and all that stuff that came with parenting, not to mention the woman who's the child's birth mother. Draco would probably just claim they were too young and had their careers ahead of them anyway. I'll just leave well enough alone then, thought Harry.

"Well that's it," said Sway. Even though Harry was only wearing boxers and a shirt, he felt comfortable around Sway. "You don't really need physical therapy. Nevertheless, take it easy."

She gave him his clothes that Draco dropped off a few days ago. That was the last time Harry saw Draco, he wondered what Draco had been doing to keep him from visiting him. He thought Draco was overly fussy when he came every night to make sure he was well, but now that he stopped showing up, Harry missed the attention. He never got much attention from the Dursleys, not that he cared to, but the Weasleys and the handful of people he encountered in his life seemed to care genuinely for him.

When he and Draco developed feelings for each other, they both doubted the other until the final battle in which Draco's father, Lucius took up the reins that Voldemort left behind. They saved each other's life including a few friends. Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband Rodolphus were Lucius's left and right hands. Fortunately, for all the DA and Order members, Lucius didn't have the kind of influence Voldemort did. The Lestranges tried to usurp Lucius of his position in the Battle for Dawn, to become 'King and Queen', though in the end all they met were their deaths.

Harry could've been killed numerous times in his life, and nothing would be left of him or his bloodline. They would all speak of him as a great warrior, and make him out to be some sort of super hero children should follow after. Harry would probably have his own cereal. He would be in hundreds of thousands of history books, or in fact, in many books. He'd probably have his own holiday to commemorate his death. There would be pictures, portraits, posters, statues, and even bloody hallmark cards with him on it. But there would be no little Harry Potters running around, no one to carry on his name, looks, quirks, personality, or blood. He was the last of the Potters.

It all came back to children again, as it had for weeks. He couldn't help to keep wondering about it. He and Death were practically neighbours, saying hi and goodbye in passing every few years or months. Anyone else would say he's too young to even ponder children, but when you've been inches or seconds away from death so often, you can't help but wonder what that experience would be like. To have died without ever knowing parenthood would be devastating to Harry. His own parents had only just got a taste of it, and from what he gathered there wasn't anything in the world like having someone made up of you and another person, hopefully one you loved, around to mould into a individual. He would love to have a son or even better, a daughter to love, cherish, and teach. To show them all the affection he never got during his childhood. It would be wonderful.

Too bad Draco would never agree to such things. Even though Draco had enough money saved up in Muggle and wizard banks to retire and live in wealth for the rest of his years, he loved the fast pace of being in the magazine business. Draco always loved interviews, owling, and occasionally using the cell phone to execute business deals. He loved going to parties where it's invite only and enjoying himself the whole night. Harry, himself, didn't exactly have free time either to be running after evil urchins. With charities to attend, parties, press conferences, interviews with magazines, photo shoots, and book signing, not to mention Quidditch practice, and games to play, Harry lived a considerably swamped life. His four-year contract with Puddlemere United was now void, and he could get a renewal unless he signed up with a new team or decided to quit Quidditch, and the latter was most unlikely. But then again, Harry would love to have some organisation and peace in his life for once instead of always running to or from something. It would be nice for that particular change. Maybe he should consider that possibility more heavily. He'd see what Draco's opinion would be about this. Harry had sinking feeling though; that what Draco would say wouldn't be to his liking.

"Are you okay?"

Harry nearly jumped out his skin at the sound of Sway's cherry voice. "Yeah just thinking," he said, a little embarrassed.

Sway laughed a merry laugh, which always made Harry feel better. "You must be in deep thought the way you zoned out like that," said Sway cheerily. "I thought you saw a ghost outside the window or you really liked the violets in the garden."

Harry just chuckled and smiled feebly at her. She was a tomboyish sort of woman. With short, hair deep brown hair and slanted blue black eyes, and a small cute nose. She was a sturdy kind of girl who looked as though she'd climbed her share of trees during her life. Sway was only an inch or two shorter than Harry's five nine height. She reminded him of Professor Flitwick because she always seemed happy.

"Wanna talk about it?" asked Sway.

Harry looked at her and smiled. He felt as though Sway would be a very valuable friend; her being one of the few females he knew that were sensible. She didn't go on about inane frivolous things, and wasn't always asking whether such and such made her look fat. He liked her and had a suspicion that Draco liked her too. Fortunately, Sway answered her own question.

"Don't worry, you don't have to talk about it right now," said Sway, quirking a smile at him. "But if you ever need someone to talk to or anything, owl me or call me here." Snapping her fingers, a card appeared with her address and phone number on it. She gave it to him.

"Thanks." Harry looked at the card more closely and saw that she lived in Surrey, and according to her address, not too far from the Durselys. Harry unconsciously cringed.

"What?" asked Sway.

"Nothing, it's just my Muggle relatives live not too far away from you," said Harry truthfully.

"Are they that bad?"

"Pretty much, I've never seen you around and you live just three blocks down." He pocketed her card and wondered vaguely how his trousers got on. He didn't remember putting them on because he was thinking too much.

She smiled a little sadly, something Harry had never seen before. "I take care of my mother there. I live mostly in the house and rarely go out with my friends, but when I do, it's usually well past nine in the evening. But usually I stay home and read to her or work on a project of mine."

Harry felt as though this headed in a personal direction and eased slightly into it so if she wanted to stop she could. "What kind of projects do you do?" asked Harry innocently.

She beamed obviously holding her work in high esteem whatever it was. "Mostly carpentry. I can create chairs, tables, and dressers. I can construct almost anything out a of a good size piece of wood. I make toys for charity as well," said Sway, straightening the room out. "It's a shame I'm not much of painter." She chuckled and looked back at Harry.

He unconsciously packed his bags already and was practically ready to go. She handed him his jacket and smiled warmly at him.

"Guess I'm ready to go, eh?" said Harry, not really wanting to leave. He wanted to know more about her. He threw his bag strap over his shoulder and stood there hesitantly.

"Yeah, I guess so," said Sway quietly. Harry was about to turn to the door when she said, "If you and Draco ever want to go out somewhere or see some of my great craft, don't hesitate to contact me, all right?"

Harry nodded overenthusiastically; he didn't have many real friends left, mostly fans. He held out his hand for her to shake, but she surprised him when she gave him a hug instead.

"Get well, okay?" She stood in the doorway facing the hallway.

"Okay," said Harry, waving to her as he started down the hall.

"And shag carefully!" she called out.

Harry shook his head blushing and gave her a final wave. He saw the vast displeased faces of doctors scattered in the hallway. He grinned until his face hurt. Home. Harry felt the warmth envelope him as he thought about home. Finally.

*

"What do mean destroyed?" said Draco, irritably. He was about to leave his office when he got a call from Valliant "Sharky" Whittaker, saying that the photos for the cover were shipped somewhere else. The perfect organised layout, done personally by Draco himself, the only complete one, was now on its way to blooming Scotland. However, before it got there, the truck had encountered some sort of accident and crashed into a lake. The deliverymen were fine but water destroyed all the truck's contents since the lake was extremely deep and no one would venture down to get anything.

"There is a copy left isn't it there?" asked Sharky.

Draco paced the lobby of the building in fury and irritation. He had to finish his speech for the important meeting tomorrow and would have to skip visiting Harry again at the hospital. Damn it! "Yes there is," said Draco, rubbing at his aching forehead forcefully. It seemed no amount of pressure would rid him of the headache.

"Well, why don't you just drop it off yourself?" asked Sharky.

"Because, I am the president, the one who invented this damn magazine," said Draco slowly, as if the tension would go away if he spoke that way. "That is beneath me! Don't you get it? That's like the Minister of Magic going around Auroring."

Sharky blew an exasperated sigh. "If you really want your company and magazine to succeed, then nothing is beneath you. If you don't do it, who will? Moreover, who will on time?"

Draco leaned against the hard steel wall and slid down to the floor. He then pinched the bridge right above his nose three times. "Right. Is Pepper's still open, cause it's kind of late."

"Yeah, it is," said Sharky. "See, it's very advantageous having me as your assistant, isn't it?"

"You know what?" said Draco, brightening evilly. "You're right Sharky. You are a great assistant."

Sharky chuckled on the other end of the phone unknowingly. "Thanks sir. I told you," he said.

Draco got up and grinned broadly in the pale red light emitting from the overhead lights. He had a spectacular idea. "Since you are an assistant, more importantly, my assistant, you assist me with things right?"

"Er- yes sir," said Sharky nervously. "What is it you need?"

"I need you to go down to Pepper's and get what I need done." Draco wanted laugh aloud at his cleverness. Sharky's clever way with words almost had Draco doing his job. That was what Draco paid him for anyway.

"Uh - er," spluttered Sharky. "But sir, I don't have the copy of the layout!" He sounded squeaky and triumphant. You're not getting out that easily, thought Draco nastily.

"I've already owled it to you," said Draco, stepping out in the crisp August night. "And look," he said, looking up into the night, " it's perfectly cool and clear tonight. My owl should be there sometime soon."

"Er - uh - s-sir," stuttered Sharky again.

"I think it would be a good night for a broom ride too," said Draco, with a new bounce in his step. Even the headache had gone from a painful pulsing to a nearly unnoticeable throbbing. "Yeah, you have all the good luck tonight Sharky. Well, I guess I'll be slipping off to good ole home then."

"B-but s-sir," said Sharky pleadingly, which was very unusual for the fast talker. "I have a - a -," he faltered.

Draco strained not to laugh; Sharky getting a date was extraordinarily uncommon. For a good reason too, he was fine in the physical department, but he was deathly clumsy and stuttered unbecomingly when nervous, and he was nervous around personal female company all the time.

"A date?" asked Draco, hoping Sharky wouldn't hear his restrained laughter. Sharky was a good friend of his and he'd hate to wound his ego.

"Y-yes sir."

"Well, then you better get ready for when the layout gets there, shouldn't you?"

"W-well, yes sir."

"All right, good evening Sharky."

"Evening, sir."

Draco closed the cell with a loud click! He felt what he did was practically mean, because Harry was still in St. Mungo's and the meeting tomorrow could be rescheduled, but Sharky was his assistant and his job was to do various menial tasks that for whatever reason, Draco couldn't do. Presently he felt no remorse; he only had to hurry home to owl the layout. Whatever Slytherin instincts had been in the conversation were now gone and he didn't want Sharky to miss his date since he rarely got them. Off to home.

*

Entering his home by saying the secret password, which happened to be "The Dark Lord rots in Hell," he was comforted by the pine smell. It was particularly warm in the house for some reason. Shrugging, Draco walked into his in-home office and got out the back up layout. He'd hoped he'd never have to use it. Nonetheless, he organised it and sent it off. He hoped Sharky would be in time for his date, Draco would feel bad if he missed it on the account of him.

Walking into his bedroom, he noticed something was out of place, but couldn't tell what. The pine smell and heat was stronger in there as well. That's when he spotted the gigantic tree filling half the doorway to the bathroom. Looking in the bathroom, he saw there were trees all around and there was a steaming lake. It was the beautiful picture of nature. Draco crept in and saw something that made his mouth go dry.

Harry was nude, in the clear lake, with his head thrown back against a towel on the grass. He was flushed and had his eyes closed, his arms splayed out either way. Draco peered closer to detect that Harry's mouth was half open in pleasure, and saw his wild hair cowlicking everywhere with moisture. It was the most erotic thing Draco ever saw.

Harry had bewitched the bathroom to look like a forest clearing with a hot spring lake. Draco had forgotten that Harry would be out of St. Mungos this week. Guilt flooded him; he hadn't been home for Harry. Maybe he should make it up to him. Suddenly, he heard Harry's stomach rumble, it was now evident he didn't even eat. Draco would cook him a good dinner. Or at least he would try. Harry was the certified chef in the relationship. Draco's cooking wasn't bad, but it wasn't nearly as good as Harry's was, seeing how he used to cook for the Dursleys. It also made Draco wonder how Harry was terrible at creating potions.

Walking into the kitchen, Draco felt somewhat out of place. Just a tad bit uncomfortable. He remembered when he was younger, his mother, Narcissa was fond of cuisine. He used to help her make breakfast and lunch. They had to do it in secret, since Lucius only would be furious if he learned that his wife and son were cooking food their selves, when they had house elves. Draco loved making chocolate chip biscuits. They used to be warm, chewy, and gooey. Narcissa would sometimes smear chocolate on his nose and chase him around saying that she would eat his little nose off if he couldn't lick it off himself.

Merlin, if Lucius ever knew what he and his mother got up to in that house, he would be turning over in his grave. Happiness was never a prerogative of Lucius's, and it wouldn't be of anyone else's. Lucius only ever displayed a positive human emotion a few times. Draco thought his father was bipolar, and wouldn't be surprised if his suspicions were true. It was always more dreadful than pleasant, and his moods could swing dangerously.

Draco pushed the dismal thoughts in the dark recesses of his mind, as he looked around for something to make. Looking in the refrigerator, he saw, to his dismay and irritation, there wasn't anything in it. The cupboards would probably be just as bare. Still, just in case, thought Draco. Looking in each of the cupboards all he saw was cake mix, without anything of the things that go with making one. Oh yeah, there was some peanut butter as well. No use when you don't have the things that goes with that. Shaking his head, he muttered, "I'm cursed with Potter's curse." He looked in their restaurant book. Many of the restaurants had delivery service, and Draco thanked Harry for liking take out food.

He pulled out the square piece of parchment with "Anne's Eatery" on it and pressed the purple circle on it. The menu magically unfolded itself and had three options: Delivery, Pick Up, or Rendezvous. Pressing the purple circle beside Delivery, Draco ordered two salads; honey glazed ham, cream potatoes, and chocolate pudding. He wrote their address on the line after confirming the order twice and waited for it to come.

Five minutes later, a steaming basket with the smell of food wafting out of it came, being held by a large unidentifiable bird. Draco put the sickles in the bird's black pouch on its leg and it took off back through the window. Sensing that if he didn't hurry dishing up the food, Harry would smell it, he quickly got out the plates. Placing the food in all their proper places on the plates, Draco went to change into his robe to join Harry. He felt as though he wouldn't have to wear much.

Draco levitated the plates into the forestry bathroom, sat Harry's plate right next to his head and put his plate on the other side. Draco quietly walked over to Harry's side stifling a snicker as he saw Harry sniff the air appreciatively. Harry slowly opened his eyes and looked at Draco and then the food on the plate. He smiled gratefully and Draco was truly touched by it.

"Hullo you," said Draco, running his hand through the hairs in the back of Harry's head.

"Hey," rasped Harry. Draco noticed that there wasn't any drinks, and mentally smacked himself. He conjured two empty glasses and summoned the champagne in his private wine cellar. He poured Harry's glass first and gave it to him.

"Thanks," said Harry, greedily downing the liquid. "This was the first thing I wanted to do when I got here. I didn't really think of shopping first because I know how bare our stores are. To tell the truth, I didn't really feel like it. "

Draco dryly smiled at him. "It's all right, you were tired is all," said Draco. "I'll go tomorrow. Let me feed you."

Draco eventually got his way after Harry's weak protests. Harry then in turn fed Draco and they saved the pudding for last.

Draco twirled the spoon in his pudding and looked at Harry seriously. They hadn't been able to discuss certain matters because things kept happening. Draco would have his say before someone like Snape came flying in here telling Harry he had to save the world again.

"My little spiky head," said Draco softly. He affectionately rubbed Harry's hair. "I've been wanting to speak with you about something very serious for while. But whenever I got the courage to speak to you about it, things always happened to prevent us from actually conversing."

"We're running away from the social world, aren't we?" said Harry hopefully. "To never be seen again?"

Draco chuckled. "No, silly." He bit his lip and twirled the spoon more frantically in the chocolate. Harry stilled Draco with his hand.

"Something bothering you?" asked Harry. "Is it my job? Do you want me to quit?"

There he goes again, thought Draco mildly irritated, he was tired tonight and he would get it out. "It affects your job, but nothing like that straight out," he started. Draco shifted nervously and Harry's eyes were on him. "If you can help it, I'd really like you to not speak until I finish, if it isn't too much for you."

Harry smiled crookedly. "All right."

"Harry," said Draco. Strangely, he felt his courage waning and then felt guilty because of his paranoia of rejection. However, he would not let this go unsaid any longer, no matter how fidgety it made him. "I've been thinking about this for while. I've really wanted to expand our life more. I'm not talking about just going on more trips or building more rooms onto our house, even though that just might have to happen." Harry looked curiously at him, keeping silence for once.

Merlin's boots, a miracle.

"I want to..." Draco trailed off; he could hear his blood and heart beating against his ears. He really shouldn't be so apprehensive; it wasn't as if Harry would bite his ears off. Well, not unless he wanted him to. "I want to have a child, Harry. With you."

Harry's emotions played visibly across his face: surprise, happiness, and then gloomy looking confusion. "Are you sure or are you having me on?"

Draco smiled slightly. "Yes, I am sure, and yes, I mean it."

Harry turned from him and looked down in the pool. Draco felt disappointment penetrate his chest and had to use all the strength he had not to let his voice break. "It's okay," he said, coming closer to Harry's side. "We don't have to if you think it's a bad idea."

Harry faced him with incredulity notably in his eyes. "Are you mad?" he asked in astonishment.

Draco wanted to retch and looked at him dejectedly. Suddenly, Harry reached out, grabbed him, and kissed him hard, a little clumsily, but to make his presence known.

"Of course, you jumping-to-conclusions prat!" He looked as if Christmas had indeed come early. "I've been wanting the same thing as well. I was going to talk to you about it tonight."

Joy so powerful that it made his chest hurt and his eyes tear, began to assault him. He also thought he would swoon with happiness, until Harry's wet, but warm arms kept him steady. Harry wiped the tears away from Draco's eyes to see that Harry, too, had tears of joy. He wiped his away as well.

This was love. True love. It was all about persevering against all odds, judgements, personal battles, and conflicts to get to the finished product. A steady relationship, in which all involved are perfectly happy and content, and maybe, just maybe, feeling truly blessed to have the one they're with because sometimes things get too good to be true. Moreover, the best thing is that it's reality. Not a dream. Real. You love them and they love you and both of you are together. Maybe that's oversimplifying it, but that's what real happiness does. It makes everything simple and complex simultaneously.

On impulse, Draco grabbed his pudding and smeared some on Harry's nose. Harry blinked befuddled and then smiled mischievously. Draco proceeded to lick the chocolate of his nose in deliberate enticing licks. Harry turned to get his chocolate pudding, when Draco smeared more on his cheek. Draco almost snickered out loud when he saw Harry frantically grab his pudding. He was about to lick him again when Harry got up out the hot spring red and steamy. Draco could never figure out how Harry never got all wrinkly like he did.

Watching in rapt attention, as that lean muscled body laid out the enormous towel. Draco watched every part move as Harry cleared away the plates off to the side, seeing Harry naked never lost its appeal to Draco. Never. Harry crawled over to him, his pudding still in hand, and looked at Draco intensely. Draco could feel himself hardening, rather painfully, at that intense look. He's seen Harry intense look before, but... not like this one.

Harry picked Draco up more gracefully than expected from his position. He laid him on the fluffy towel and undid his robe. Draco wore nothing underneath, and knew Harry had seen him starkers before, the scrutiny of that stare made Draco flush everywhere. Not to mention, a certain member of his standing obscenely erect. Harry leaned in close and turned his cheek with chocolate still on it towards him. Draco wanted to giggle at the silliness of wearing chocolate, but that stare stopped him. He licked Harry's cheek the same as he licked his nose.

Slowly, a smile came across Harry's face. He smeared chocolate on Draco's chest firmly but in a way that made Draco's breath catch and his heart flutter wildly. Harry smeared it nipple to nipple. Draco thought he could die from anticipation or his hard on would explode from pressure. Or lack thereof. Harry started to lick one nipple and across his chest.

"We'll get sticky," breathed Draco. He was gripping the sides of the towel because he feared if he grabbed Harry's hair he would rip some out.

"Don't we get sticky any other time?" asked Harry wryly. Draco smiled back at him. He didn't even know why he said that. "Besides, we do have that to wallow in for a while too." He gestured to the water peacefully steaming. Draco had no doubt it would be beckoning them soon.

Stuffing pudding in his mouth, Draco licked across his cheeks and nose. He almost looked like a tribal or something. Laughing, Draco said, "Let's get dirty."

*

Hours later, Draco lay in Harry arms beyond sated, thinking about the technicalities of children. He could hear his heart beating out of synch with Harry's, but both were contently slow; he could also feel and smell Harry's chocolatety breath in his face. They were both sitting in the hot spring, which was obviously the bathtub; Harry had left the bottom smooth porcelain.

"Harry, about children," started Draco. However, Harry shushed him.

"Save it for the pillow talk tomorrow. Sleep."

Draco did and went to sleep peacefully, thinking about fair-haired green-eyed and raven-topped grey-eyed children frolicking around.