Disclaimer: These characters and other things Potter are property of JK Rowling and publishers. No money is being made, and no copyright infringement or disrespect is intended.

A/N: This is first chapter to the Sectumsem sequel Rhyolite.

Draco had a thousand questions about the house. He and I explored together. I showed him how to use the push-button doorknob locks. I explained the dishwasher in the kitchen and the thermostat in the hall. We carried Hermione's trunk upstairs for her. There were three bedrooms and another bath on the second floor. He was particularly fascinated with the laundry room. He stuck his head in the washer and the dryer before asking what they did. He was appalled by the idea that we would be washing our own clothes. I promised it wasn't difficult, but he was skeptical.

"But how do you know it's not that hard?" Draco pressed.

"I did the laundry at the Dursley's," I said quickly.

"They had you do a lot, didn't they?"

"Laundry, cooking, dishes, mowing the lawn, mopping the floor, cleaning the bathrooms."

I never realized quite how it would feel to admit to Draco just how much I was treated like the house elves that Purebloods felt so much superior to. I kicked myself for thinking of Draco like that. I led him out of the laundry room before he could respond. He excused himself to the restroom. Five seconds later he was back.

"That was fast."

"It's dark in there."

I laughed, and he frowned. I showed him the light switch. He flicked it a few times before closing the door.

Our morning upheaval had left us all with little appetite for breakfast. Ron and Draco hunted unsuccessfully around for a chess set while Hermione and I made sandwiches for lunch when the time came. The ham sandwiches were plain, but at least it wasn't tuna. Blech. As usual, Ron asked questions with his mouth full all through the meal, starting with where he could find a chess set and ending with 'How do I open that big black box in the living room?' Hermione and I stared at each other for a few moments before realizing Ron was talking about the television. Hermione merely giggled, but my shocked laughter sent juice out my nose.

"That's disgusting, Harry," Draco complained, scooting his chair away from me even though my juice had gone nowhere near him. To Ron he said, "I told you it doesn't open."

"But you couldn't tell me what it does."

"It's a television," Hermione explained. "You watch it."

"What it do what?"

"It plays TV shows and movies."

"And what, pray tell, are those?"

"They're like photographs. They move, but they also have sound. They don't just focus on one thing, like a picture, though; they tell a story."

"How do Muggles turn it on without magic?"

"They use a clicker. We'll show you this afternoon."

I made Ron load the dishwasher after lunch, but Hermione thought it was 'inefficiently done' so she did it again. Afterward, the four of us settled down in the living room to explore the mysterious wonders of the television. Hermione handed the clicker to Ron, and we all watched while he tried to work it out. First he waved it around. He jabbed it toward the TV and even tried the swish-and-flick of wingardium leviosa. He got frustrated and started smacking it against the palm of his other hand. When he finally managed to smack the power button, the television lit up and spouted an obnoxious, loud jingle for Springwater soap.

"You called this thing a clucker? You should have just said it's a Muggle wand."

"Ron, you know Muggles don't have wands."

"Apparently they do."

"Ron, hand the clicker over here." I turned the volume to a reasonable level and skimmed through the channels. I tried to find something that wouldn't be too confusing for our TV virgins. I settled on "Three's Company," figuring there would be fewer gadgets in an older show. Aside from having to explain several Muggle things and a few jokes, the watching went smoothly for the most part. Hermione's tirade about how women on TV seldom wear bras was boring to me and Draco and, well, it got Ron smacked upside the head. Twice. That boy should learn to keep his mouth shut.

Mr. Weasley had not stocked the kitchen well, so we had sandwiches again for dinner. Draco and I snuck away while Hermione gave Ron a dishwasher tutorial. Draco and I started out with the intention of unpacking, but as soon as we were ensconced in our bedroom, unpacking went out the window. The confusion and uncertainty of the day burst out of us in a fit of sexual tension.

We stood, facing each other, neither moving. As the agonizing seconds passed, our breathing got heavier and heavier, louder and louder. I licked my dry lips while Draco watched. Time dragged on. We were frozen. Despite everything we'd done together, that moment was fragile. We both knew we were going to snap from stress of the day, but neither knew what exactly that would entail.

Then it broke.

We raced at each other. Fingers tugged at clothing; tongues battled. There was moaning and groaning and the clack of teeth knocking together. We tumbled onto the big bed in a tangle of limbs. I threaded my fingers in his hair, and he wrapped his legs around my waist. It was fierce and needed. We clung to each other like the world was ending. After minutes of frantic embracing, the fire subsided.

His legs dropped down to the bed. My hands moved from his hair to cup his face. Our kisses slowed. He licked at my tongue and held me close. His hands wandered from my shoulders down as far as they could reach and back again. I rolled us to the side so that I was no longer squishing him into the mattress. One of his legs slid between mine. The subtle pressure of his thigh against my cock was satisfying. We didn't have to be joined together to be one. Being next to each other was enough. Finally we just lay there, no longer kissing, foreheads pressed together.

"I love you, Draco. More than anything. I don't ever want to leave your side."


***All other chapters will be posted under the story title Rhyolite