J.K. Rowling owns it all. I own nothing but my imagination.

"Bloody fucking hell," Harry moaned, his hand clasped over his eye, sitting hunched over on the sofa, his shattered glasses lying on the coffee table. "Dammit, it's still stinging."

"I don't know why you won't let me heal it for you," Draco called from the kitchen. Harry heard the crack of the ice tray and the clatter as the cubes fell into the sink. "It'd be a lot more effective than this Muggle remedy," Draco said as he walked into the room with an ice laden towel. "It seems rather pointless," he continued.

"Just give it here, you twit," Harry hissed, grabbing for the towel when Draco stopped before him. He wrapped the towel around the ice and tucked it into a neat little packet and then placed it over his eye. Draco watched this maneuver and sighed.

"You're going to have a shiner tomorrow, you know. I could heal it and fix your glasses if you like," the blond persisted.

"You know you're shit at charms like that," Harry said from beneath his makeshift ice bag. "I'd probably end up purple all over with hairy horns sprouting here and there."

Draco snickered and then smirked at the pitiful sight before him. "I'm quite good at certain charms, Potter, as you very well know," he mocked, placing his hands on his hips. "Trust me."

Harry laughed and scooted over on the sofa, leaving room for Draco to sit next to him.

"Look, Harry, at least let me give you a neck rub to help you relax. You know tension always makes pain worse," the blond said in an authoritative voice. "Slide off the sofa and sit between my legs, and I'll rub your neck and shoulders."

"I can't refuse an offer like that," Harry grinned, easing off the sofa to sit with his back against the sofa seat cushion, his shoulders cradled between Draco's hard thighs. He leaned his head back against his boyfriend's groin as Draco's strong fingers kneaded the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck. A muffled groan escaped his lips when an especially tight knot was prodded and worked loose.

"Helps, doesn't it," Draco said, continuing to stroke and massage Harry's upper back; his hands digging into the taunt flesh underneath his hands.

"Mmmm," Harry sighed contentedly. Not removing the dripping ice pack from his eye, he turned his head, and one green eye gazed at the blond still kneading his neck. "You know it's your fault, don't you?"

"Now Harry, how ever could it be my fault?" Draco asked, pulling an innocent butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth face. "I didn't suggest Truth or Dare for the game of the night at Pansy's party, Draco said reasonably.

"Oh yes, but who suggested that I dare Blaise to kiss Ron?" Harry huffed.

"I only suggested, I didn't tell you to ask him that. It's not my fault that they went at it like dogs in heat," Draco sniffed, his hands stilling on Harry's neck. "Besides, it's quite obvious that he has a thing for red-heads. I mean he's dating the Weasel's sister."

"Obviously," Harry drawled, and shifted the sodden half-frozen ice pack against his eye. "I should have known better. Ron gets a little crazy when he's got enough liquor in him."

Draco snorted in agreement. He shifted and reached for Harry's chin, tilting his head to the side. "Let me see," he asked gently, reaching for the ice pack.

Harry pulled it off his face, turned and gazed at Draco. His right eye was puffed and swollen; the skin around it turning a dark blue. He winced as a slender finger traced the line of bruising on his face.

"Hermione's got one ferocious right hook, doesn't she," Draco said, frowning at the rapidly darkening skin near Harry's cheekbone.

Harry snorted and chuckled under his breath remembering how one little-bushy haired girl had knocked the snot out of Draco Malfoy, reigning Slytherin Ice Prince, in third year.

"And don't you even say anything about third year," the blond said, releasing Harry's chin. "Anyway, I'm the one who should be put out, I didn't get my last turn," he continued.

"What last turn?" Harry asked, turning back to rest between Draco's thighs.

"I didn't get my last turn at Truth or Dare," Draco reiterated. "I had the best dare for you," he smirked, his hands prodding the tight flesh on Harry's back. His hands crept up Harry's neck to rest tangled in his hair, his fingers massaging the messy-haired man's scalp. "You would have really liked it," he said, while his fingers stroked and teased Harry's head. "But, now it's going to go to waste," he sighed in mock disappointment.

"Life not fair sometimes," Harry said quietly, a shiver running down his spine when Draco started massaging his head, the delicious and erotic sensations that Draco's fingers had started on his scalp quickly shot to his groin. He felt like a truck had backed into his face, but he quickly decided that he'd give Draco his last turn. Anything just to keep those fingers moving across his head, his neck and back in that slow, sensuous dance.

"But, I guess it wouldn't hurt to continue the game." Harry said around a smile. "Go ahead then, ask me."

"Alright, then, Harry, Truth or Dare?" Draco said, as Harry's head came to rest against his thigh, his hands now finger-combing his dark locks.

"Truth," Harry said with preamble. He had reasoned that since Draco had thought up some wicked dare for him, he might get off easy with just telling the truth. Harry looked up into Draco's face catching a reaction he didn't expect.

Draco looked like the cat that had just swallowed the canary. He gave Harry's hair one last stroke before asking his question. "Alright then, Truth, Harry. When did you know you preferred blokes?" the blond asked, his eyes glinting with devilish satisfaction.

"Uhhh, can I change my mind? I meant to say Dare. Yeah, Dare," Harry said quickly, hoping the blond would change his mind.

Draco smirked. He'd get an answer one way or another. "Alright then Harry, I dare you to tell me, when did you know that you preferred blokes?" he asked.

"That's not fair!" Harry exclaimed. "You can't just rephrase the question like that."

Draco snorted, "You, yourself said life's not fair sometimes. Go on, answer the question. Either as a Truth or a Dare, I don't care which." His strong fingers were now working on a spot to the left of Harry's neck. "Besides, you know I can make you answer, Wizards Truth or Dare, you know," he said calmly. "Trust me, I can."

Harry closed his eyes, and swallowed nervously. This was going to be bad, very, very bad. He'd never told anyone when he discovered that he fancied the same sex. Or how he'd discovered it. He would have preferred that it would have stayed a secret to his last breath. And now Malfoy had asked him, this one thing that excited and shamed him to this day.

He tilted his head to the side and rested his good eye on Draco's knee and wondered if he'd have a set of matching black eyes when he finished talking. He placed the ice pack on the floor and wished one more time that he'd never heard of Wizard's Truth or Dare.

"Well," Harry started nervously, "you know I had my Dad's invisibility cloak during school at Hogwarts, and…"

"Oh yes, I remember. Caught you using it on the train to listen in on me," Draco interrupted. "By the way, sorry about the nose," he said, running a finger down Harry's nose and giving it a little tap at the end before going back to his massage of Harry's neck.

"I used to watch you in your room in Slytherin," Harry said quickly. He chanced a glance at Draco, wincing at the words starting to tumble from his mouth. "It started in fifth year. I'd follow you around the school in my cloak. I'd sneak in behind you in the dungeons and watch you all night long. When you showered, when you got ready for bed, whenever you talked with your friends. First it was to find out what you were up to. You know, with Umbridge and all, and then it was just…to watch you."

Harry stiffened when he heard Draco's sharp indrawn gasp and felt the stilling of his hands on his shoulders. And yet, as much as he wanted to hold his tongue, the words came out on their own volition. "It became an obsession. I had to watch you almost every night sixth year. I worried about you. You were pale and harried-looking and I needed to know what was going on," Harry said slowly, waiting for Draco to respond to his revelation. But Draco remained quiet; the only sound from him was his ragged breathing.

"Late at night when the candles burned low, I'd stare at you and watch you wank. You looked so good, your face, your body, your…" Harry stopped and took a deep breath. "I…I wanted to touch you, but I couldn't," Harry stuttered. "I'd sit there under my cloak and do myself at the same time, wishing it was your hand on me. I…I never had the courage to say anything to you." Harry shuddered, but he couldn't stop talking. "I knew then, but I tried to deny it. I even tried dating Ginny, and you saw how that turned out," he said with a worried laugh. Harry turned and placed his hands on Draco's knees. Gripping them nervously, he looked up at the blond and anxiously waited for his reaction.

Draco had a far off look in his eyes. He stared at Harry for a moment, a frown wrinkling his brow. "Harry," he said quietly, "I'm not sure what to say." The blond shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe that you'd do something so sneaky, so dishonest, so, so Slytherin, he finished, his eyes closing as if in pain. "Who are you really?" he asked softly, almost so softly Harry didn't hear him.

Harry turned back around, lowered his head and shook it slowly, the mortification washing over him in waves. "Draco, I'm sorry…," he started to say before a slender finger pressed his lips shut.

"Harry, do you trust me? I mean really trust me?" Draco asked suddenly. Harry started and frowned at this seemingly random question. He shifted so he was now kneeling between Draco's legs, his hands resting lightly on Draco's knees again.

"Well, sure I do. Why wouldn't I?" he asked, confused at this sudden shift in the conversation. He was rewarded with Draco giving him a gentle pat on the cheek, his hand coming to rest on his cheek and around his ear, his thumb caressing Harry's cheek.

"I don't think you do. I see it whenever you tell me something you think I don't want to hear," the blond said quietly, his eyes gazing intently into Harry's. Draco's hand slid into Harry's hair, gently running through the dark tangles. "I've never hurt you intentionally," Draco grinned suddenly, "at least since Hogwarts," the amusement apparent in his expression slowly shifting to solemnity. "You tell me something, which obviously you think will upset me and then you look like I'm going to hex you or something," he continued, pausing to place his hand on Harry's, the other still threading through his dark hair.

Watching Harry's eyes, Draco smirked. "You know, I'm flattered that you watched me. I mean, why wouldn't you want to watch me? But mostly that…that you cared about me then. I wasn't very nice to you." He smiled at Harry's soft snort. "Alright, I was a hateful, spoiled prick with a Death Eater as a father," he snickered. "But, seriously Harry, it's like you don't dare to tell me what's really in your heart," Draco said quietly, still toying with Harry's hair, his fingers slipping softly across his neck. "Why don't you dare to tell me what you're afraid of most?" he asked softly, his eyes searching for the truth.

Harry pursed his lips together, fighting to keep the words inside. He mentally cursed the stupid game he agreed to play. Harry knew that if he told his darkest fear to Draco, it would come true and he would be alone.

"You'll leave me. I'll be alone like before, like I've always been," Harry blurted out. "You'll get so pissed at me, because I'm not a pure-blood, I don't know as much as you do about the wizarding world, because you can have anyone you want once you get tired of me. That I'll say something stupid and you'll walk out on me," Harry finished in one long breath.

"So you think I'll leave you for saying something stupid," Draco asked softly, "like just now, for example."

"Draco, please…" Harry started only to stop when Draco pushed Harry's hands off his knees and rose.

"Harry, shush, now," Draco said quietly. "I don't know why you think I'd be that way with you. Probably in the past…but that was a long time ago, and things were different between us then. We're not 16 anymore, Harry," Draco watched the shiver run through the brunette before him and wondered if he was as hurt as he was at the moment.

Harry sat back on his legs, and hung his head, his hair hiding the emotions flashing across his eyes. He couldn't look at Draco, he'd hurt him and his heart ached dully in his chest.

Draco sighed. "I'm tired and going up to bed and I…I need to think," he said, running a hand shakily through his long blond hair. "Don't sit down here and stew on what happened in school," the blond said gently, "and what we've talked about tonight," his hand brushing Harry's hair as he moved past him. Draco stopped at the foot of the steps, his hand worrying the banister. "Harry, it's okay…really. Trust me on this." He gave Harry a small, sad smile before starting up the stairs.

Harry watched the blurred figure climb the stairs and vanish from sight. He sighed heavily, and laid his face in his arms; his eye throbbing at the pressure from his arm. He swallowed down the pain that started to choke him. Of all the fights, the pranks, the general dislike in the past, this was the one thing he'd never wanted to talk about with anyone, much less Draco. He wiped the wetness from his face absently as he sat back up, deciding at that moment, to never, ever play Wizards Truth or Dare with Draco again. Looking down, Harry reached for the sodden towel. He rubbed numbly at the wet spot on the carpet before rising and heading toward the kitchen to rid himself of the useless ice pack. And, he never saw the blue-grey eyes watching him from the stairwell.

Turning from the kitchen, he headed slowly for the stairs, wondering dully if Draco could rid himself as easily of a useless lover as he had of the makeshift icepack. Reaching the top of the stairs, he heard the faint splash of running water from their en suite bathroom. Harry turned and headed toward the hall bath that was usually "his." He flicked on the light and stared in the mirror at the pale, bruised face gazing sadly back at him. He grimaced and then reached for his toothbrush and paste. He performed his evening ritual and quickly changed into his green pajama bottoms. Draco had gotten the silk pants for Harry, declaring that his boyfriend needed something nicer for his arse, besides him. He ran his hand down his leg, fingering the soft material, delaying the moment that he went back to their room. He flicked off the light and padded down the hall to their quiet bedroom.

Harry frowned when he entered the room, the dimness and quiet unnerving him. Three lit candles sat on the dresser, their light throwing flickering shadows around the empty room. Draco wasn't in their bed nor was he in the darkened bathroom, and a twist of fear clenched Harry's belly. "Draco," he said softly, gazing about the dim room. Harry felt his panic grow. At the Auror offices, they'd been warned of a Death Eater being sighted near Diagon Alley and to be extremely cautious. Disjointed words echoed through Harry's mind, 'Death Eater, Draco, captured, revenge, or…' his mind swirling to a halt on one horrible, unthinkable thought. 'Draco had left him.'

Moving closer to the bed, Harry grasped the bed post to steady himself when he felt a soft brush against his arse and the press of something small and solid against his bruised cheek. He started as he heard a quietly muttered 'Episkey,' and his hand connected with something wooden. He stared in disbelief as a wand materialized on the floor and the pain in his eye and cheek vanished.

Harry heard a soft chuckle and looked around the room to find the only person in the room staring back at him from the mirror. "Who's there!" he cried, his arms coming up with fingers stretching to grasp whatever shared the room with him. He stared at the mirror and the light reflected there. And gasped at the sight of the ties of his pajama pants slowly rising and being tugged, the bow tied there collapsing from the steady pull.

"Harry," a soft voice drawled. "It's not very proper to spy on others, you know." A faint whisper of air brushed Harry's chest as something moved closer to him. "And it's worse to be afraid of what you really want," the voice continued coolly.

Harry was rooted to the floor in dazed confusion. He wasn't sure if he should be afraid or relieved at the sound of the familiar voice. Should he be relieved that Draco was still there, safe, and with him, or afraid of what Draco could and would do to him?

Harry flinched as hands gripped his hips. He looked down to see the indentions on his pajama pants where invisible fingers held him. "Draco?" he stuttered when his pants started slowly loosening from his hips and sliding down his legs to pool at his feet.

Harry felt the soft touch of a finger sliding up his leg, pausing briefly at his thigh, and then reaching his manhood. He watched, fascinated, as the skin there was moved by an unseen force and almost jumped as fingers held his thigh, warmness spreading from the firm touch.

Harry looked down and felt a swipe of a tongue up his inner thigh, and stared memorized at the glistening dampness left behind. He felt a puff of breath against his groin and Draco's voice came from the darkness.

"If I'd been invisible," a hand brushed the dark curls of his pubis, "I would have made you mine." The firm stroking continued and Harry moaned as he watched the movements of his rapidly hardening length. A drop of pre-cum disappeared off the tip, and Harry gave a strangled gasp. He felt soft open-mouthed kisses being placed on him and Draco's mouth wrapping around him. A strong tongue swept up and down and around him. His hands blindly groping for where he thought Draco might be, Harry tried to stifle the involuntary swaying motion of his hips. His right hand brushed the blond's hair and he fisted the long strands, steadying himself before pulling Draco onto him more deeply. Draco's humming laugh shot through him and coursed up his spine and the need to push deeper down that moist cavern intensified.

Draco released Harry from his mouth, smirked, and blew on the damp, hard flesh before him. Snickering at Harry's moaned "Oh fuck." Draco glanced over at the dresser mirror and growled low in his throat at the image illuminated by the flickering candles. Reflected in the mirror was Harry, his hand knotted into a fist held out before him, his face flushed, eyes closed, his lips parted and panting. The flickering candle flame made the image waver and twist in the dim light and Draco smiled, knowing that only he could do this to him. Harry shifted unsteadily and clutched the sheet on the bed, twisting it, trying to regain his equilibrium.

Gripping Harry's leg tighter, Draco pulled himself up until he was facing Harry. He brushed his lips across the brunette's, and brought him into a one-armed embrace. Draco rubbed his hand over and down Harry's arse, running a pale finger back up the cleft. The invisible blond nipped at Harry's ear. Licking the shell of his ear, Draco whispered, "I knew Harry…I've always known."

Draco's words took Harry by surprise and he stumbled. He barely heard Draco's soft mutter, but it didn't really matter, the spell worked just as well as if it had been shouted. Harry felt himself rise and float onto the bed, the clutched cover pulling loose from his hand and Draco's fine hair slipping through his fingers. He stared at his previous position next to the bed and caught the slightest shimmer in the air and the bed dipped. He watched as the sheets shifted and flattened as the knee prints reached his side and then depressed between his legs.

Draco kneed Harry's legs wider, smirking to himself as he ran his hands up Harry's chest, feeling Harry's breath hitch in his chest. Amused, he watched as Harry tried to find his hands or his arms to grasp. Taking pity on him, Draco laced his fingers with Harry's while his other hand held him steady over his sly, almost Slytherin-like lover. He lowered himself, letting his hair drift over Harry's chest and neck, teasing him with its softness.

Harry, sensing that Draco was hovering above him, licked his lips nervously. "Draco…how'd you know?" Harry stopped before he said anything else, the slow drag of hair across his skin distracting him entirely. With the hand between his legs fondling him, and the teasing, erotic trickles across his torso, Harry didn't care. Even if Voldemort had risen from the dead and had been standing there in a thong, videoing them, Harry couldn't have cared; his entire being was focused on the waves of pleasure sweeping through him and Draco's mouth sweeping across his.

Draco muttered Harry's favorite charm and a familiar slickness began to coat him between his legs, Draco's fingers probing slowly, but surely. Pushing in deeper, he smirked with satisfaction at the brunette whimpering and arching off the bed. Draco released Harry's hand and ran his hand down to Harry's waist, pausing to lean down and tongue his navel. Sitting back up, he stared entranced at the sight of Harry, splayed out in front of him, his hardened length weeping for him. "Oh fuck, Harry," he sighed softly, his need growing stronger, "You were never invisible to me." He grasped Harry and stroked him the way he knew his lover craved. Leaning over, slowly, he brushed his lips across Harry's and whispered across his parted lips, "No more talking." And Draco lost himself in the heat and tightness that was his Harry.


Harry pushed Draco's sweaty, tangled hair from his face and curled his face into his neck, smelling the smells of sex, sweat, and desire still on his skin. He'd finally seen Draco shimmer into view when he pushed into Harry. His face a contortion of joy and hunger, and did he dare think it, love, as he filled him and sent great spiking jolts of ecstasy shrieking through his body. He knew that Draco loved him. Even if the words weren't said often enough for his liking, his reassurance. And Harry suddenly found himself blinking at the realization that this attraction, sexual and emotional, was far more real than anything he'd ever experienced before. And that this connection between them was far stronger than mere words; both said and unsaid. The unexpected thought occurred to him that he wasn't alone anymore, but cherished and needed. With these thoughts coursing through his mind, Harry was content for this moment of closeness and warmth.

Languid grey-blue eyes beneath half-shuttered lashes watched Harry, and Draco moved to wrap himself around Harry, pulling him closer, so he could feel the beginnings of fresh desire for him.

Harry shifted up on the bed until he could look directly into Draco's eyes, his curiosity finally getting the best of him. "Draco," he started, "how did you know it was me watching you? You said that you knew; that you've always known it was me." Harry waited expectantly as Draco released him to turn and fumble in the nightstand drawer. Pulling a length of red and gold striped material from the drawer, he turned back to Harry and put it around his neck, deftly knotting it into a loose Windsor. He shifted back and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, his fingers now tracing small abstract patterns in the small of his back.

Harry stared at the familiar material and gaped at Draco's knowing smirk.

"I found it in my room one morning. I think it was the end of fifth year," Draco said, his eyes laughing at Harry. He reached for the end of the tie and flicked it gently across Harry's chest.

"I thought I'd lost it. But, how did you know it was mine?" Harry asked, amazed that Draco had kept his tie and that he'd even figured out it was his.

"Ah," Draco smiled even broader, "I charmed it to show me who it belonged to. It wasn't a hard thing to do." He chuckled softly, and he mock whispered, "I even figured out that you fancied me, too."

"Well, did you spell it to tell you that too, oh great master of charms," Harry asked, his hand finding it way to Draco's firm arse.

"Nah, it was the patches of dried cum on the windowsill that did that," Draco laughed, his sides starting to shake.

And Harry lost it. He laughed and felt Draco's laughter flow over and around him to entwine with his. And he knew life was good in their flat off Diagon Alley. Trust me.