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Chapter 7

“Two hours ago,” Harry began as he sat down at the breakfast table. “Dumbledore was officially banned from every Gringotts on the planet.”

Draco slowly put his teacup down and exchanged a look Pansy. “What did he do?”

“He tried to force his way through the lobby to this area,” Harry said. “And security ejected him—tossed him right out into the Alley on his arse.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Neville muttered and sighed. “Ramifications?”

“He’ll face a tribunal with the World Court of Magic for attempting to violate a host of treaties with the Horde,” Harry said with a shrug. “The ministry is, of course, protesting his treatment and trying to tell King Ragnok he has no right to ban a ministry official from the bank. That’s going to probably cause a host of sanctions by the ICW as absolutely no one on an international level wants another rebellion.

“Well, no one human,” he clarified. “I can’t say that most dverger would be all that fussed to have rebellion since it just makes them money hand over fist. That’s the problem with the British Ministry of Magic. They’ve never really bothered to pay attention to the ramifications of their actions—no matter the consequences. This country was bankrupted by the last Horde rebellion, and it took several hundred years for them to recover financially. Your economy still isn’t as robust as France or Australia.”

“Shacklebolt is in Dumbledore’s pocket,” Hermione said and Harry watched them all nod their agreement. “He basically thinks that old bastard can do no wrong, no matter what gets revealed about him or his past. There are plenty of people like that in this country, you know.”

“I do know. I’ve gotten over a hundred very angry letters since yesterday,” Harry said and waved a hand. “I had a mail ward erected and sent Shacklebolt the bill because he can most certainly pay for the bad behavior of his own citizens. A great many people in this country seem to think I should basically fall on my knees and worship Dumbledore.”

“Because they do,” Draco said dryly. “Hermione’s right, you know. Most of his followers don’t care what he does or how he does it. They are very invested in his image as the Leader of the Light, and nothing interferes with that. It’s bizarre.”

“It’s indoctrination,” Harry said and they all four winced.

“My grandmother was pretty devoted at one time,” Neville said. “Then…well, she never forgave him for what happened my parents. Dumbledore told them that they were safe and the end result—they were tortured to insanity then eventually died due to the corruption. Almost no one survives deep magical injuries in this country because of it.”

“The mortality rates have been…discussed,” Harry said. “There’s nothing we can do about that part as long as the corruption lingers. I’m sorry your parents were taken from you like that.”

“Well, you’d understand it better than most,” Neville said and exhaled slowly. “My only solace is that the Lestranges went completely insane and killed each other before they got caught. I’d hate for them to be in Azkaban, right now, alive while my parents are dead.” He waved hand. “Especially with the Dementors gone.” He paused. “Why did you ask Hekate to take them away?”

“Because they’re an abomination,” Harry said. “And their existence was unnatural—they were created with necromancy and the fact that they were allowed to linger on this world for hundreds of years is disgusting. They were used to torture the living and the dead. Such a thing is beyond the pale.”

“The Resurrection Stone tortures the dead,” Hermione interjected. “But you have it, right?”

“It doesn’t do that,” Harry said and smiled when she looked confused. “Most of the information you have on the Hallows is pure fiction, Hermione. The Resurrection Stone allows for communion with the recently dead—it’s basically a key to a door that leads onto the celestial plane.” He paused. “In my hand, specifically, it is an instrument of death magic. In your hand, it would be a very pretty rock and nothing more.”

“It’s only active when there is a Master of Death,” Draco said. “Right?”

“Right,” Harry said. “I used it for the first time when I was six to meet my parents.” He paused. “Well, I tried to meet them. But they are in a spectral state on the celestial plane and interaction was difficult. I walked away from the experience with the knowledge that they were…content with their choices. It was enough.”

“Truly?” Draco questioned.

“It had to be,” Harry said. “I needed to accept their circumstances so I could accept my own.” He pulled out his journal. “I’ve commissioned the creation of four runic ward stones. Once they’re complete they’ll delivered to our ritual space so we can build the magic sinks. Hogwarts will close for the summer in two months, in the meantime we can focus on Little Hangleton—the second oldest point of corruption. Then the location in London and finally Godric’s Hollow.

“After we have all four ready, we’ll be able to see how deep the growth is and if it’s impacting the countries ley lines. Right now, the corruptive elements make it difficult to really see the lines for what they are.”

“And if the lines are tainted beyond repair?”

“Then the country is a dead loss magically,” Harry admitted. “We’ll have to blockade permanently, migrate those that can safely leave. Then monitor the whole country for magical births. Those children will have to be removed as quickly as possible to prevent them from being tainted. Within the next fifty or so years, magic will retreat in full from the country and there won’t be any magical births to be concerned about.”

“That sounds like…it’s happened before, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, there are several parts of the world that have been blockaded due to deep corruption,” Harry admitted. “We lost a huge enclave in Asia well over 2,000 years ago to a dark cult. Hiro Ito sealed that personally and I think that’s why he lingers even now. He’s guarding the world against what was created there. It’s happened in the past in France, Russia, and…well there was the Mayan situation.”

Hermione leaned forward. “What situation?”

“There was a death cult, and the sacrifices piled on top of the area in more than one way,” Harry said. “In the end, an entire region had to be blocked off magically and the cities essentially died as a result due to migration.” He waved a hand. “Then, some asshole druids in Ireland tried to create an inferi army about 800 years ago. The Protectorate spent a full decade cleaning up that mess. The thing is that death is attractive and magicals are stupidly fascinated with it.”

“Why did you reveal yourself after you said it would be a mistake for Dumbledore to know?” Hermione questioned.

“It was pointed out to me that Dumbledor would probably lose his shite and get himself killed,” Harry said dryly and Pansy laughed. “And that seemed worth trying.”

“But he’s going to try to murder you,” Neville pointed out. “Actual murder. He probably won’t even be subtle about it, and we’ll have a new dark lord to deal with.”

“Well,” Harry said with a shrug. “He won’t even be the first person to try that shit this month.” He stood and stretched. “I’m pretty sure that dozens of dark wizards on this planet have me on their bucket list one way or another.”

“Fuck or murder?” Draco questioned and laughed when Harry sighed. “It’d be a toss up for a lot of them I’m sure.”

“Do you have any assignments from the Master Feyborn?” Harry questioned as he focused on Hermione and Pansy.

“Yes, we’ve done the reading, and we’ve got a diagnostic spell running in the High Priestess’ personal circle,” Pansy said. “She’s proposed that we build a scrying ritual for the wraith. His chaotic presense should be easy to find if the entire thing is built on coven magic. We aren’t compatible with her, by the way. Her fey heritage drove us both out of the circle when she cast. We’re going to be tested against several dwarrowdams in the next week to see who can fit with us. She believes that the duality of witchcraft and dverger magic is very important since our work will be most closely align with the bank itself.”

Harry nodded. “The cleansing ritual will ebb out from the bank. I can’t say the average British magical will appreciate the implications of that, but they only have themselves to blame for the disgusting mess they’re in.”

“Do you blame them all equally?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted and focused on Draco. “They tolerated it—for decades. They tolerate bigotry in their own government, in their school, and in their public spaces. They fostered the exact environment that created a man like Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, and Gellert Grindelwald. These people literally fouled their own nest, Draco.” He waved a hand. “And worse? They’ll never acknowledge it. Easily half of the people in this country think it’s my responsibility to fix their problems despite the fact that I wasn’t even born when it started.”

“Once the diagnostic is complete, we’ll be able to provide a better perspective on the creation of the runic sinks,” Pansy said. “I’ve never carved one, of course, so that’s going to be an issue if they take a long time to create.”

“I can carve them,” Harry said. “Draco will empower them while Neville provides him with an anchor.”

“I’ve never led a ritual,” Neville said. “Why not you?”

“Because one of us will have to stand guard over both our circle, and considering my nature it must be me,” Harry said. “Pansy and Hermione will be tied up in the secondary ritual, which will be focused on the distribution of our power throw-off. Moderating that to ensure it doesn’t damage the bank or the wards in place on the Horde’s land is imperative. It will be Lenore’s singular focus and why she decided to participate as she has.

“At the end of the day, she’s standing guard over her husband’s magical domain in a very overt way.” He paused. “And if we lose control of our ritual work during this process, she’s our safeguard.” He took a deep breath. “Your safeguard, because there are forces at work in my life that would outright remove me from the ritual space if I lost control of myself.”

“Is that related to your role as the Master of Death?” Hermione questioned and leaned forward. “Could you…accidentally kill us?”

“No,” Harry said. “Never that, but I’d rather not give you all a bath in death magic if I can avoid it. It would change you all in a very permanent fashion and it would appear, to those who can see such things, that you all took up necromancy overnight.”

Draco actually shrugged.

“What?” Harry questioned.

“Not much could make people think less of me than they already do,” Draco admitted. “There will always be people who avoid me like I’m a budding dark lord, and others that will get in my face tell me how exactly how offensive they find my existence to be. There’s a bloke in the minister’s office who won’t stay in the same room with me and complained to Minister Shacklebolt about my inclusion in this project.”

“Percy Weasley,” Harry said with a nod. “It was brought to my attention, but I told Hiro Ito to tell Shacklebolt that I don’t actually give a fuck about Percy Weasley’s comfort. I’m sure that was passed along and wasn’t received well. Weasley’s always had a problem with me and once tried to give me detention at Hogwarts when he was Head Boy. I didn’t bother to show up—he tried four times before he complained to the headmaster who dismissed the whole thing because he couldn’t make me go to detention and threatening to throw me out of the school amused the shit out of me the one time he tried it.”

“Why does he have a problem with you?” Hermione questioned. “Is it just about you ignoring him and everyone else at school?”

“No, he blames me for the murder of his mother and two youngest siblings,” Harry said frankly. “A Death Eater was hiding in their home, and he went insane with all the others. Peter Pettigrew killed Molly Weasley, her youngest son, and the child she still carried. I acknowledge that it was a very tragic situation for that family, but I don’t accept any responsibility for it.”

“You shouldn’t,” Neville said. “It destroyed Arthur Weasley’s life. He never got over the murders and drank himself into an early grave. The oldest son, William, basically raised the twins, which is why they weren’t at Hogwarts. They went to school in Egypt. Percy stayed here in Britain with an aunt after his father died because he was already at Hogwarts.” He grimaced. “It’s disgusting that Percy actually blamed you for it as a child at Hogwarts.”

“There were comments throughout the years from several students,” Harry admitted. “Percy was the most overt in his…frankly, he hates me. He once told me that the world would’ve been better off if I’d died with my parents.”

“He’s a real bastard,” Hermione said and flushed when they all focused on her. “He told me once that it was a shame that a witch like me had a job in the ministry when there had to be pure-bloods more qualified who deserved it. He didn’t want me on this project either, because of my blood status. I don’t know where that complaint got buried, but it went away pretty quickly.

“Shacklebolt works pretty hard to protect Percy Weasley, probably at Dumbledore’s behest as he’s weirdly invested in Percy and always has been.” She frowned. “Maybe it’s about his mother’s murder since Dumbledore apparently knew her very well.”

Harry just nodded. “I can lure Riddle here—he’ll be unable to help himself for a variety of reasons. He knows I have the Hallows and that is bait enough for any dark wizard. Riddle also believes that I’m the only threat on this planet standing between him and a decisive victory.”

“Victory over what?” Draco questioned.

“World domination,” Harry said dryly.

“For fuck’s sake,” Neville muttered. “That’s just more proof that he’s insane. No one would legitimately want to rule the whole fucking planet. It’d be one hassle after another.”

“I can’t disagree.” Harry checked his watch. “I’ll ritual scry and check on the status of Riddle.” He paused. “It’ll be a private circle, and I’ll need to seal the space while I do it.”

Draco leaned forward. “Did you intend on secluding yourself magically whenever you use death magic?”

“Yes, it’s for the best,” Harry admitted. “At least for right now. There could come a point in the project where I’ll have to take a heavy hand with the ritual casting to protect the integrity of the spells and the runic sinks. If that becomes a possibility, I won’t be offended if any of you decide against further participation.”

“Death magic is natural,” Hermione said after a protracted silence. “It plays an integral part in the soul cycle, which we already all participate in. I’m not worried about the function of your magic in the ritual space. You have more discipline than all four of us combined.” She paused. “And you have since you were eleven years old.”

* * * *

Draco sat down at the long conference table and glanced only briefly at Croaker before focusing on Kingsley Shacklebolt. “Has the ICW taken custody of Dumbledore?”

“Not yet,” Shacklebolt said roughly. “We’re trying to get the World Court of Magic to agree to a local hearing.”

Draco exhaled slowly then shook his head.

“You don’t agree?” Croaker questioned.

“It’s above my pay grade,” Draco said. “Your note didn’t indicate to a subject for this meeting, sir.”

“Tell us about Potter,” Shacklebolt ordered.

“We signed magically binding oath contracts managed by the Horde,” Draco said and Croaker just nodded. Shacklebolt looked more irritated than anything else. “He’s shared the prophecy with us, but we can’t speak of it outside of the project. I can’t tell you anything specific about the research, the plan, or the conclusions that have already been reached.”

“What about Potter personally? Are there are any points of leverage?” Shacklebolt questioned.

“No,” Draco said and exhaled slowly. “He’s focused on the problem and that’s all anyone needs to know.”

“We can’t just depend on that,” Shacklebolt said roughly. “Without Dumbledore to observe, there is no telling what has been decided or done. I can’t trust Potter with the country, Mr. Malfoy.”

“You don’t really have a choice,” Draco said and Shacklebolt glared briefly at him. “The ministry has lobbied for Potter’s return for nearly a decade, and now he’s here. He made it clear before he arrived that he’d not allow Dumbledore any involvement. Why are you still pressing this? Do you want the Protectorate to blockade us and move on? If you think they won’t—you haven’t been paying attention. They’ve already set it up.”

“Dumbledore knows more about the problem than anyone else and Potter is ignoring that,” Shacklebolt said. “It’s like he wants to fail.”

Draco sighed. “Sir, that’s the last thing he wants. Harry Potter would like to fix this problem as quickly as possible so he can leave the country and never come back. He’s here because people he actually respects wanted him to work on the problem, and he’ll do exactly what he agreed to do. Then, he will go.”

“Dumbledore thinks we need him here, after the clean up, to keep magic stable,” Shacklebolt said. “We’ll be looking for a way to force it.”

“Force it?” Draco repeated. “You think you can force a War Mage to stay in this country? The Protectorate will not tolerate that, Minister Shacklebolt. Neither the ICW or the World Court would come down on Britain’s side, and the fines alone would cripple the government for decades. Anyone personally involved in such a plot could face charges as individuals.”

“Potter owes Britain.”

“No, Britain owes him,” Draco said quietly and Shacklebolt’s mouth dropped open. “And at the end, when Riddle is gone and taint is repaired, this country will owe him even more. The only way to truly repay that debt and to atone for the damage done to his family is for Britain to leave him alone for the rest of his life.” He stood and exhaled slowly. “The thing is, Minister Shacklebolt, there is precious little more foolish on this planet than making an enemy of the Master of Death.

“I won’t be a party to such a thing.”

“You’re an employee of the ministry,” Shacklebolt said. “And you’ll do as ordered.”

“I’m not a slave,” Draco retorted. “And my contract is at will. I won’t be controlled or leveraged for the benefit of anyone or anything. I only work because I want to, and all of my real assets are sequestered in France.” He raised an eyebrow when Shacklebolt looked shocked. “My mother moved my family’s money abroad the day after my father ran off and started murdering people. When he was caught not a single account with his name on it had a knut to be taken.”

He waved a hand in frustration. “I can tell you one thing.”

“What’s that?” Croaker questioned.

“Every single one of you has been corrupted beyond the measure of it by Riddle’s taint,” Draco said quietly. “I’ve yet to meet a British wizard or witch over the age of forty that wasn’t a seething mass of greed and a disgusting amount of selfishness. In Potter’s place, I would’ve left you all to rot.”

“Do you know why he chose you for the project?” Croaker questioned.

“No,” Draco responded and watched his boss take in the lie without any physical response at all.

He wasn’t an Unspeakable and wasn’t connected to Croaker in any fashion magically, but he knew the man was very good at sussing out a lie when he heard one.

Croaker shifted and his hood glinted with magic then nodded. “Dismissed.”

He left the conference room mentally writing his resignation letter. It had been coming for a while because he’d already given up on trying to manage his reputation in Britain and taking a job with the ministry hadn’t done much to make people more accepting of his family’s history. He returned to the team’s space and relaxed when the guard’s shut the door behind him.

The common area was empty, so he went to the work room and found it empty as well. The ritual room door was open, but the room was dark. He walked across the room and paused in front of the map where the big areas of corruption were marked and found that Harry had made several notations. He’d written the letters TMR in a series of locations that were clearly headed towards London with little arrows connecting them.

“He did that about thirty minutes ago,” Neville said quietly as he joined him. “After two hours in the ritual room alone.”

“Riddle is heading this way,” Draco said quietly. “Do you think he’s mad enough to try to come into the bank?”

“I hope so,” Neville admitted. “The dverger won’t have a problem capturing him. Harry hasn’t talked about how that will go.”

“I suppose a wraith has no hope of standing against the Master of Death,’ Draco murmured and took a deep breath. “Is he in his room?”

“He went into the bathroom a few moments ago,” Neville said and checked his watch. “Hermione and Pansy have already pretended to go to bed. But they’re probably just an hour into a six-hour reading binge. You met with Croaker, right? Can you tell me anything that was said?”

“Shacklebolt is Dumbledore’s puppet,” Draco said with a shrug. “But we already knew that. They want to find someway to force Harry to stay in the country. Dumbledore’s convinced Shacklebolt that it’s required to balance the magic here. He asked me if I knew anything they could leverage against him.”

“It’s galling, right?” Neville said. “To know that he was right all along?”

“Yeah,” Draco admitted.

“I’m going to pry a book out of Hermione’s hand and get some sleep,” Neville muttered.

Draco nodded and after a moment, retrieved his shower supplies and went to clean off a day off frustration. Harry was standing at the large bank of sinks when he entered using his wand to trim his beard. He stared for a moment, taking in the black robe and bare feet. The man should’ve looked vulnerable. He didn’t.

He put his bag down on the counter and activated a rune on the sink to wash his hands.

“Shacklebolt isn’t a problem for me.”

“You listened to that conversation?” Draco questioned. “Croaker’s privacy charm work is very good.”

Harry hummed a little and banished the hair from the sink then stored his wand. “Croaker gave me access, because he works for the Crown and was given explicit orders to render me all the aid I need to fix the problem. Shacklebolt is only in office right now because it keeps him contained to a certain extent. As soon as he stop beings remotely useful, he’ll be ousted and replaced.”

“Oh.” Draco relaxed a little. “That’s good.”

“Croaker is suffering just as much as anyone else in his generation,” Harry continued. “But he’s magically bound to serve Avalon. The ministry doesn’t even factor into that equation, so remember that. Would you really leave them all to rot in my place?”

“If this country was the site of my mother’s murder, I would’ve left it the moment I could and never fucking returned,” Draco said frankly. “I don’t know how you stand it—because all three of your biological parents were killed because of Riddle. And Riddle only exists because of cowardice, greed, and a disgusting amount of unwarranted fear. He’s just a fucking wizard and these sons of bitches treat him like he’s a hell-born demon that sprung up out of the ground to dominate them. Given a real choice, most would take a knee. You know that.”

“I do,” Harry admitted. “Some of them can’t even help it. The corruption has eroded their ethics for decades. Many of them are so weak to magical manipulation that even in his wraith state he can control them. I wouldn’t be surprised that someone is currently hosting him. He’s moving fast for a creature of his current form.”

“Right,” Draco sighed and pulled his wand to shave. “Did I say anything in that meeting you wish I hadn’t?”

“No.”

“Just no?” Draco huffed, he performed the shaving charm then banished the mess afterward. “It’s like Hogwarts all over again.”

Harry laughed. “The contracts will protect you from making a mistake on that front, so don’t worry about it. Also, feel free to tell everyone you possibly can how much I hate this fucking country.” He picked up his bag and headed for a shower stall. “There’s room for two.”

Draco huffed a little and picked up his own kit because he wasn’t turning that down on a bet. He dropped his own bag on the bench just inside the door then closed the space. Privacy charms activated the moment the lock clicked into place, and he took a deep breath as Harry shed his robe.

He wet his lips despite his best intentions and pulled his shirt from his trousers. Harry turned on the trio of rainfall shower heads with a brush of his fingers. He looked down at his shirt and focused on unbuttoning the garment. A task that normally was the work of nothing seemed stupidly difficult.

“Let me,” Harry murmured and brushed his fingers away.

“Does this intense thing get you laid a lot?”

Harry laughed a little as he finished unbuttoning the shirt and hooked nimble fingers behind the buckle of Draco’s belt. “I get by.”

Draco did such a poor job of unfastening his cuffs that his cufflinks were left to fend for themselves. The parts clicked together on the floor with a clink of metal and sought each other due to charm work with a little snap of magic. He shrugged out of the shirt and dropped it on the floor.

“Lose those a lot, do you?” Harry questioned and pulled the belt free.

“Yeah, always. I have to have them all charmed to stay together, or I’d just have a bunch unmatched parts,” Draco admitted with a flush as he pushed off the shoes he was wearing and kicked them under the bench.

“I don’t have any expectations,” Harry murmured as he unzipped Draco’s slacks.

“You probably work hard to never have them,” Draco said and Harry just inclined his head.

“It’s better that way.”

Draco nodded and took off his trousers and boxers together which he tossed aside with his shirt. “We’re going to work on that.”

“Must we?” Harry questioned in amusement as Draco took off his socks. “I can’t believe your socks have dancing pygmy puffs on them.”

“Life is dreary enough without piling boring socks on top of it,” Draco said and let Harry pull him toward the stream of water in the back of the stall. 74

The fall of water was hot and charmed to actively cleanse. The kiss started off as little more than a brushing of lips against his own. Harry’s hands settled on his hips, warm and firm, and Draco felt a little part of him surrender. Normally, he fought it as he’d never indulged in those needs before and didn’t know if he could. But Harry was so compelling and fascinating that it was easy to get lost in the attraction.

He shuddered as he was held against the wall, the cool tile did little to temper the heat building on his skin. Draco took a ragged breath as the kiss ended, and Harry rested against him, cock heavy and hard pressed between their bodies.

“Easy,” Harry murmured against his jaw. “I can handle anything you’ve got.” He scraped his teeth briefly against Draco’s skin. “Your element is fire, right?”

“Yes,” Draco responded and shook briefly as his magic shifted in his body. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Harry murmured. “Precious little magic can hurt me, love.”

Draco let his head fall back against the wall and just relaxed. It was such an alien moment for him that his eyes started to sting with tears. The water falling over them started to steam as his magic surfaced and soft gold flames shimmered on his skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry said.

“That sounded like a complaint.”

“Oh, it was,” Harry assured and activated the body wash rune. Soap started to slide on their skin.

“Is this ordinary plumbing in dverger holdings?” Draco questioned. “Because I’d have to pay fifty galleons a night to get this kind of spa treatment in a hotel.”

Harry laughed. “Very ordinary. Their rune masters are second to none.” He pulled him away from the wall, turned him around carefully and ran his hands down Draco’s back. “Tell me about your magic.”

“Can’t you see it?” Draco questioned.

“I could…give you a very thorough investigation,” Harry said and pressed a kiss against his shoulder. “But that’s kind of rude, isn’t it?”

“You are the rudest person I know,” Draco said with a smile and Harry laughed.

“Tell me something I can’t see on my own about your magic,” he suggested.

“I’ve held every single kind of fire that can be made with magic successfully. Regular fire doesn’t burn me, which I found out by accident as a child when I encountered in a badly maintained public floo. My mother still filed a complaint with the ministry and I received compensation.” Draco turned in his arms and put one hand on his chest. “And you? What’s it like being an archmagus? Were you one before the adoption?”

“I was born one,” Harry said. “It’s why my mother was able to create the sacrificial ward around me.”

“Your parents used your magic to build a ward in ritual when you were a fifteen months old?” Draco questioned.

“I know it’s a lot,” Harry murmured and Draco kissed him because it sounded like an apology, which was ridiculous.

He slid his hand down and wrapped it around Harry’s cock. Draco made a pleased sound he couldn’t keep himself as Harry trailed a series soft kisses along his jaw.

“You have to fuck me,” Draco blurted out and flushed when Harry lifted his head and met his gaze. “I mean….” He wet his lips. “Exactly that.”

Harry pulled him down to the floor without another word and with a wave of his hand changed the water pressure, so it felt like a light rain. One of the best cushioning charms he’d ever experienced in his life formed under him and Draco spread his legs as he relaxed on the tile. Harry knelt between his thighs, hands sliding under him with the kind of confidence that was a relief.

Draco fingers slipped against the tile as fingers and magic pressed against his arsehole. “Fuck.” He lifted his hips a little as the prep spell worked. “What…is that a custom spell?”

“I’m a bit thick,” Harry pointed out.

“I noticed,” Draco said and rocked down on Harry’s fingers.

“Spells built with parselmagic are intelligent in a certain way—the magic is anticipating both of our needs,” Harry explained and pulled his fingers free.

Draco cupped the back of Harry’s head as the man moved over him, settled between his legs and pushed into his body with one smooth thrust. Eager for it, he wrapped his legs around Harry’s waste and rocked into the penetration. It was absolutely perfect and it had to be a problem. Harry was strong-bodied, and clearly intent on the pleasure of the moment.

“Good?” Harry questioned against his jaw.

“Yes, gods, you’re ruining me,” Draco confessed and Harry laughed just a little.

He came surprisingly fast and let himself wallow in the overstimulation has Harry continued to fuck him. Draco adored it—the edge of too much pleasure and the way his lover was using him to get off. Harry caught both of his hands, pinned them to the floor, and held him there was he started to grind into his body.

“Can you take more?” Harry questioned.

“Yes, please, whatever you want.” Draco arched under him briefly and dropped his legs to the floor where he spread them wide and braced his feet.

His own cock hardened again, and he quickly shuddered through another orgasm. Draco felt unaccountably greedy as he sank into the deep pleasure building between them. His fire drifted wildly on his skin, and it felt amazing not to have to worry about it. He’d never been able to relax and enjoy intimacy with another person because of his elemental abilities. It was absolutely perfect.

Harry was shaking as he pressed into him one final time. “Hell.”

They stayed still for a long moment then Harry slowly withdrew.

“If you have a single second of regret for that, I’m going to ruin your life,” Draco muttered and Harry just grinned as he sprawled on the tile beside him. “I mean it.”

“No regrets,” Harry murmured and exhaled slowly before he stood then pulled Draco to his feet.