Passion

Harry and Draco were giving each other one last look over in their little common room before they went down. They were aware that supper would have just started for the rest of the school, and they planned on making their entrance fashionably late--with the eyes of the whole school on them.

They were dressed identically, in black dragon-hide pants that were skin tight, custom made for the two of them to move in, dark grey silk shirts, and hooded cloaks that looked like they had been spun from the shadows. On their faces were crimson half-masks, their eyes glowing under their hoods like gemstones. This was comfortable. This was what they were used to. This was who they were.

Gryffindor's sword hung on his heir's back. Similarly, the Malfoy blade hung from the back of Draco's chair, where he could reach it easily. Neither carried any other visible weapons, but despite being back in the safety of Hogwarts, they wore the full arsenal hidden about their persons.

"Ready?" the Gryffindor asked quietly.

"Yes." Pale lips twisted into a cruel smirk. "Let's have some fun."

They didn't encounter anyone in the halls on their way to dinner, just as they'd expected. Everyone else was already in the Great Hall. . .a captive audience.

"Potter. . ."

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"How dramatic should we make this?"

"As dramatic as we want." He muttered a charm to put out the lights in the Great Hall. "That should tell Uncle Albus what we're up to."

Draco grinned. He summoned a storm for the Hall's illusory ceiling. Together they called up a wind to slam open the doors and surround them as they entered the now dark and stormy Hall. There was dead silence. Students who had been looking to the professors for reassurance when the lights went out turned slowly, full of dread, to face the opened doors.

Draco thought it should be fairly obvious who they were behind the masks. Only one person in the school had to use a chair to get around, and that one was him. His partner should be equally obvious, considering Harry was the only person he'd spent significant amounts of time with since they had started fighting together. Still, no one in the Hall except a few of the teachers appeared to have figured it out.

Some of the younger students were crying, and a few people screamed as the two warriors were illuminated by lightning, making their way slowly to the teachers' table.

Finally, Dumbledore stood. "Welcome, Chaos Reapers."

Draco smirked. "Come now, Uncle," he emphasized the endearment mockingly. "Surely you know who we are?"

"I do indeed, Draco, Harry. I had thought you might prefer to introduce yourselves."

Both young men laughed and threw back their hoods and masks. "Why bother?" Harry asked. "You do it so nicely." Both fiddled with their wands and muttered under their breaths, returning the Hall to normal.

Harry perched himself on the arm of his partner's chair and looked around the Hall in amusement. "Where to sit, where to sit," he mused aloud.

"I don't care what table you choose, Potter, but you aren't sitting there. Get off."

Ignoring Draco, the Gryffindor continued, "Well, actually, I'm not sure where we want to sit is the question, hmm? I think it's more of which table will let us join them. Wouldn't want to be poisoned at supper or make the firsties uncomfortable. What do you think, Malfoy? Shall we have an envoy from each table come and tell us why we can or cannot join them for supper?"

"For the moment, I'm indifferent." The Slytherin pressed the sharp blade of a knife into the small of the other's back. "Get off."

"Knives, Malfoy? Aren't you the pureblooded wizard?"

"Cutting you up is so much more effective than cursing you, Potter. It gets through even to your puerile mind. Off. Now."

In a move too fast for anyone to see, Harry grabbed the knife. Once he had it, he reluctantly relinquished his seat. "Draw. What a pity."

"For you, perhaps. I got what I wanted. Now that that's settled, your idea sounds fine." He looked around at the people silently staring at him. "Well?"

Dumbledore stood, eyes twinkling. "Enough theatrics, both of you. Settle where you're sitting or come and join us, but you're frightening the first years."

"Frightening the first years?" Harry muttered.

"More like the whole school," his partner agreed under his breath. Aloud, he said, "Well? Where are our envoys?"

They watched in amusement as the Houses scrambled. Only Slytherin remained calm, Morag MacDougal approaching them at a slow saunter and standing back to watch what everyone else would say.

At the Gryffindor table, Ron was being restrained by his girlfriend and sister. Finally, he pulled away and shouted, "We don't let dark wizards eat with us, Potter. Go eat with your new House."

A Hufflepuff approached them, trembling, asking if they could eat somewhere else, as the first years were frightened enough as it was. Ravenclaw, the House of the smart, pointed out logically that there wasn't room at their table. Morag said coolly, "You can join us, Malfoy. You know why."

Draco laughed and nodded. "I do indeed. Come, Harry."

They settled at the Slytherin table, not having to converse with anyone except each other. They watched the politics in the Great Hall with amusement until dinner was over and they returned to their rooms.

Draco stopped abruptly in the doorway to the bedroom. "There're two beds."

"Your point?"

"Do we have roommates?"

"No. There are two of us."

"Oh. I got used to sharing with you during the war. I assumed moving back in together meant going back to sharing a bed. Singular."

"We can if you want to." He waved his wand, merging the two beds, and sat down on the side of the resultant, requested, singular bed. "We need to talk, Malfoy."

The blond crossed his arms, almost sure of where this conversation was going, though knowing Harry, he could want nothing more than to argue about philosophy, just to irritate him. "So talk."

"Sex was a great stress reliever during the war. Before I killed Voldemort and you got hurt, that was all there was to it. We needed the relief. We never kissed, we never touched intimately outside of actual sex, and it was just fucking. Now, though . . . There isn't a war, and we don't have that as an excuse."

"Now we've kissed twice. Since I initiated the first one, you assume I know what's going on between us."

"Pretty much, yes."

"Then allow me to remind you that you initiated the second kiss. You know as much about this as I do."

"Is there more to being wizarding partners than I know about?"

"Only if both partners want it. If both of us do . . ."

"Yes?"

"If both of us do, it'll be an even stronger partnership." Having said all he was willing to say, he pressed his lips together.

"Fine. I'm not in love with you, Malfoy, and I doubt you're in love with me. I do think that you're extremely attractive."

"Ditto," Draco said curtly, having picked the word up from Harry during the war.

"So. The same arrangement we had for the war? No emotional attachment, just sex?"

"For now, yes."

"What do you mean, for now, Malfoy?" Harry scowled. "Stop being bloody cryptic."

Draco smirked. "My point, Potter. If you can't figure it out, why should I tell you?"

The Gryffindor shrugged. "Maybe because if you don't, I'll over power you and drug you with Veritaserum?"

"You'd do it, too, wouldn't you? Fine. You said it yourself. We never kissed during the war. Now we have. Twice. Our relationship is already changing. We've actively admitted that we would like to stay together, work together. We're pushing the boundaries of what we can do. I don't think we're going to be able to keep any aspect of our relationship the same, not even casual fucking. One of us is going to fall."

"I know. That's been inevitable for a while now. We don't have to talk about it until it happens."

Draco grinned and leaned forward, pulling his partner to him. He kissed the other boy once, hard. "So now the only argument left is- who's top?"

It wasn't quite as simple as that, as they soon discovered. Draco couldn't be the top, but he wasn't about to admit it without a fight. During the war, they'd finally resigned themselves to taking turns, neither able to completely dominate the other. Now, however . . .

"This is so not fair!" Draco protested, his arms held above his head. "I'm at a slight disadvantage here!" His legs were dead weight, giving him two limbs to fight with to Harry's four.

"Too bad. It's not like you didn't take advantage every time I was injured!"

"You're one to talk!" Draco would have gone on, but a scarf materialized in his mouth, and he stared up at Harry, armed with a wand, in astonishment. His eyes widened further when he felt manacles materialize around his wrists.

Harry grinned. "You think I didn't learn anything from you? This is going to be fun. You can still feel your arse and genitalia. You're the one who wanted to share my bed."

Draco relaxed reluctantly. Much as he hated to admit it, Harry did know what he was doing, and they would both enjoy this.