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Chapter Text

Harry painstakingly shaped the silver and rose-gold wire into a braid then carefully twisted it around a single, perfect tearstone. Exactly the way it had looked in his mind when he'd first seen the dark gray gemstone.

The pendant would be exquisite and unique when it was finished.  His surprising ability to create beauty out of bits of rough stone and metal was why the nobles still came to his shop in droves, despite his reputation for eccentricity.

Taciturn was the kindest thing they said about Harry Potter. He barely spoke and left dealing with clients to his shop steward entirely. He'd take commissions or turn them down on whim, regardless of status or price. He insisted the metal and stone would tell him the shape of their final form and allowed his clients no say in how their jewelry turned out.

Harry knew they'd come at first out of curiosity. The last Potter heir, returned from the dead to destroy the man who murdered his family. Who'd fought incredible odds to survive and reclaim the name and home that had been lost in one, horrible night.

They wanted a peek at the freak show. Whisper among themselves the stories that he was little more than a barbarian. Speculate about the years when he’d been missing.

Raised by wolves. Or a hermit. Or by some secret religious cult somewhere deep in the Inland Forest. He'd heard all the sly whispers. Riddle’s remaining supporters, disgraced and trying to rebuild their Family names, had started a dozen rumors to try and discredit Harry. Society matrons and gossipmongers had crowded into his shop looking for proof or scandal.

The bell on the show room door tinkled and pulled Harry from the spiraling dark thoughts. The edges of his lips curled a little in satisfaction.

Five years later, though, they still kept coming. They all thought his was crazy, but not enough to stop buying.  He smirked to himself while he tuned out the shop and let Neville deal with it. Tucked away in his workroom was where he preferred to be.

When he'd been living on the streets, he'd never have thought he'd become the premier stone and metal Crafter in Celta City. Even after Dumbledore had found him and hidden him in plain sight as Hagrid's assistant, he'd never believed the little hobby he'd picked up would keep him sane. First it had distracted him from the rage and pain and loss filling his every waking moment. Then it had been his refuge from the exhaustion and single-minded focus of work and training and study.

Later, when Riddle was dead at his hands, all the bastard’s former followers frantically imploring him to rescind the feud, Harry suddenly found the purpose of his entire life had been accomplished. He hadn't expected to survive the duel with Riddle. After, he had no idea what to do with the next minute, let alone the next year.

The few friends he'd made in the years of hiding had stepped up and saved him from himself.

Ron's mum had found the building, near the twin’s shop, and Hermione had negotiated the purchase. Neville had ensconced himself as the shop steward, freeing Harry from uncomfortable dealings with people. For the first time, Harry had had the chance to focus on skills of creation rather than honing the skills of violence and death.

Speaking of Neville, his steward still hadn't greeted the customer. Harry frowned, swore, dropped the half-finished pendant and rubbed at his eyes. Neville had mentioned taking an extra long lunch for… something. Which meant Harry would have to deal with the shopper.

Harry shuddered and moved on silent feet to the doorway, muscles tense and ready for action, still every inch the warrior he'd had to be most of his life. Hopefully, it was one of the many browsers and not anyone who actually needed to be spoken to. He'd just watch from the shadows and wait to see if conversation was necessary.

The first sight of the man in his showroom was like a punch to the gut. Tall and regal, blond hair glowing like platinum, gray eyes more intense then the tearstone Harry had left on his workbench.

Harry watched the graceful way he moved, unable to look away when the man stopped to browse a table at the front of the show room.

Something was off about his aura, yet heartbreakingly familiar. Then gray eyes flickered toward a subdued, half-hidden display on the counter at the back of the room and Harry knew without a doubt.

"Heartmate," he whispered with the reverence of a prayer.

Though his heart pounded with hope and need, Harry held his breath and remained perfectly still. Like a predator stalking his prey, he waited patiently for his opportunity.

The man moved with a frustrating, languid pace through the shop. He stopped to look at every table, though his eyes were constantly drawn to the platinum ring tucked away on a dark pillow on the corner of the glass case.

Harry nearly bit through his lip while he waited and watched, unable to do anything as his Heartmate moved inexorably closer to the Heartgift.

It had to be accepted willingly and without knowledge that it was a Heartgift. If he interfered, it could mean destroying even the possibility of his Heartmate accepting him.

#

Draco ran his finger over an exquisite sapphire pendant. The deep blue stone was clear and bright and perfectly shaped, the pale gold setting a perfect complement to its pristine beauty.

He'd popped into the little shop on a whim, drawn in by an impulse he couldn't explain and was immediately intrigued. Everything was gorgeous and exquisitely crafted but there was something on the glass counter that kept grabbing his attention. He caught only fleeting impressions of shiny white metal and dark stone on black satin and it fascinated him.

Draco, though, knew better than to head straight for the item that most interested him. Just because there was no shop steward in sight, it didn't mean one wasn't lurking somewhere close by. If he showed too keen an interest in any one thing, the price would most likely double.

Instead, he turned to the next table, which held a matching pair of copper arm bands. The wire that formed them in a twisting pattern had a distinct, serpentine quality that was breathtaking. He could imagine wearing them with a least half a dozen of his favorite outfits.

Pressing his lips tight together, Draco resolutely turned to the next display.

Because he couldn't afford the bands. Or anything else in a shop like this. He'd barely had enough allowance to get his wardrobe altered into something close to current spring fashions. A few years ago, he'd have simply thrown out everything from fall and started over with all new.

But that was before. Before his father's poor choice in political ally had fallen, leaving their Family disgraced and the once multitude of lucrative contracts all but gone. Along with the money.

Before Draco's Passage had failed.  Before his mother started looking at him with pity. Before his father's gaze had turned to loathing and disgust.

Draco blinked away the sting in his eyes and lifted his chin, glad the showroom remained empty. When his vision cleared, he'd moved across half the shop and now stood directly in front of the item that had been calling him since he'd walked in.

At first glance, it was a simple platinum and tearstone ring. But the strands of platinum wove over and under themselves to create a complex pattern that intrigued the eye. A tearstone the size of his thumbnail should have looked ostentatious, but it didn't. Instead, cradled in a nest of silky metal, it looked perfect. As if the platinum and stone were always meant to come together.

Draco reached for it without thinking, fingers ready to trace the intricate design.

The rattling jingle of the bell over the door stopped him cold and he snatched his hand back. With a deep breath, Draco calmed his racing heart and, out of long habit, forced his features into a smooth, haughty mask.

Familiar red hair and freckles met him when he turned to see who'd entered and Draco allowed himself a smirk at the slack-jawed surprise and round eyed expression of Ronald Weasley.

It took the Weasel a minute of sputtering before he managed to string some words together.

"What are you doing here?"

Draco carefully raised one eyebrow. "I'd say shopping, the same thing as you. But I doubt you could afford the dust in a place like this."

Weasley snarled and his hands balled at his sides, reminding Draco of more than one standoff in the halls of Hogwarts. Except he no longer had Crabbe or Goyle behind him.

Weasley didn't attack, though, just tilted his head and smirked. "But everything here is made by a Craftsman. It takes Flair to truly experience it. Maybe there's a Null jewelry shop nearby."

Anger burned in Draco's throat and he bit deep into his tongue to hold back the pathetic retort. I'm not a Null. Draco had Flair, but it was little more than that of a child. Or a Common.

Swallowing hard against the frustration and unfairness of the world Draco straightened his shoulders.

"I think anyplace a Weasel would shop is most definitely not anyplace I want to frequent."

Chin up and posture stiff, he swept past his old nemesis and out of the shop, refusing to look back longingly at the ring.

He only realized why he'd been drawn to it after the Weasel's taunt.

It was the one thing in the shop his Flair had felt like it could interact with. It was one of the few things in the entire city. And he'd never be able to afford it.

#

Harry's breath froze in his throat when the shop door clicked shut. His Heartmate was gone.

Primal instincts rumbled to life, taking over his mind and his body. Harry bolted out the back and through the alley, rounding the corner in time to run into his Heartmate.

Automatically, Harry's hands reached out and gripped the man's shoulders, steadying them both while he soaked in his first up close look of his Heartmate. The silky, pale hair. The flawless skin. The storm gray eyes. Gray eyes glaring savagely back at him.

Harry's face heated with embarrassment.  His hands curled tight on muscles and his body invaded personal space in an overly-familiar way. With someone who'd consider him a total stranger. Molly Weasley had done her best to drill him on the propriety and manners expected of the Head of a FirstFamily. It hadn't really taken, however, and that was why he preferred to spend time alone in his workshop.

"Ex-excuse me…" Harry whispered, reluctantly pulling his hands away and stepping back. He still stood closer than would be considered polite but Harry couldn't force himself to move any farther.

The dark glare didn't falter when his Heartmate brushed imaginary dust from himself.

"There really isn't any excuse." The pointed chin lifted imperiously and Harry winced at the clipped tone. "You should learn to watch where you're going."

"Sorry. I was…" Harry bit his lip. Admitting he was trying to catch up with the complete stranger he'd been spying on was creepy. Even for him. And the true reason could not be told. Not yet. Not until the Heartgift was accepted freely.

A blond eyebrow rosed and the man stared at Harry with the disbelieving look people gave those they thought weren't completely stable.

"You were…?" he drawled out, leaving the question hanging expectantly between them.

"I was… trying to catch up with someone."

His Heartmate took a deliberate step to the side. "Don't let me keep you."

"I, uh. It's not important. I'm sure he's long gone." Harry swallowed hard. "Maybe you'd like to have tea with me, instead?"

#

Draco blinked at the man in front of him. He'd been so upset and angry about his encounter with Weasley, he'd just lashed out at the oaf who'd bumped into him.

He took a good look now. Dark hair, unruly and a little too long, spilled over and half-covered brilliant green eyes. Broad shoulders and the ropey muscles suggested he was someone who spent a great deal of time in the martial training popular with some of the more militaristic Houses. Faint scars and rugged features added to the impression. The smile, though, was soft, boyish, uncertain and Draco realized he was being flirted with. Clumsily, but still…

 At one time, Draco had been used to getting compliments and interest. His looks, his Family's social position, their wealth and prestige, had had suitors coming out of the wood-work. But that was before.

Now, he was a pariah. His father had been trying to bribe, blackmail or coerce a betrothal for him for years. First from the FirstFamilies and NobleHouses. Then, more embarrassingly from the upstart GreatHouses, whose Families had only a generation or two with enough Flair to elevate them to some minor status. If he didn't get an offer soon, his father might have to take the humiliating step of approaching the wealthy families of the Commons. Or give up on him completely…

Draco couldn't remember the last time anyone this gorgeous had invited him anywhere. Or even acknowledged his existence.

His body relaxed and Draco smiled, the first real smile that had grace his lips in a long, long time. "My favorite cafe is just up the street."

A few minutes later, they settled on the open air patio at a cozy table far enough away from the handful of patron's to give them the illusion of privacy.

Draco drew imaginary circles on the menu with his finger, unsure what to say. He wanted to hold on to the secret of his identity for as long as he could, knowing the afternoon would end as soon as his companion realized who he was having tea with.  A practically Null outcast who's father had once been the right-hand of the infamous Tom Riddle.

Across from him, the dark-haired man fiddled with his own menu. "So, uh, what do you do?"

A pang of frustration sliced through Draco and he stiffened, pulling himself up tight and sneering out of habit. "Anything I feel like. You?"

Green eyes widened and the man's lips firmed slightly in surprise.

"I'm a Craftsman. I have a shop further down this street."

His words came out slow and careful, like he was wary of setting Draco off again. 

With a sigh, Draco forced himself to relax though the answer did nothing to set him at ease.

Craftsman. That meant he had more than a moderate amount of Flair. Draco looked closer at his companion. His clothes were plain but the fabric was rich and well-made. Most likely from a NobleHouse then. Which meant he was well and truly out of Draco's league. The disappointment shouldn’t squeeze at his chest like that, when he still didn't even know the man's name.

"Are you all right?" the Craftsman asked softly, leaning closer.

The honest concern stirred Draco, warming him and making him wish for things he couldn't have. It had been a long time since anyone had bothered to look at him, rather than through him. It was nice to have someone gaze at him with anything but disdain.

Draco laughed softly and ducked his head, leaning back. He knew it wouldn't last but he'd enjoy the attention while he could.

"I'm fine."

He was saved from fumbling with an explanation by the arrival of the waitress.

"The red spice tea is my favorite here. But it takes a little courage and fortitude," Draco said.

That got him a little self-depreciating laugh, and the hint of pink glowing in his companion’s cheeks.

"Definitely traits I don't lack. Mostly, I'm told I need to think things through more."

The conversation flowed more easily after that and even the arrival of their order a few minutes later didn't break the talk of music and books and art that they both enjoyed. Of favorite pastimes and places. How he loved to sketch in the park and his companion loved to simply absorb the wildness and quiet of it.

Draco avoided topics of his Family and, if the other man noticed, it didn't seem to bother him.

Eventually though, the teapot was empty and the plate of cookies was gone and Draco's companion leaned back in his chair with heavy reluctance. "I need to get back to my shop."

Draco nodded, frowning into the dregs of his teacup, regretting that the lovely afternoon was coming to an end.

"Would you like to come with me? See my Craft?"

Draco's head shot up in surprise then he smiled and accepted the offered hand to help him out of his seat. "I'd be delighted."

It didn't take long, however, for Draco's steps to grow leaden. The storefront they headed for was the same metal and jewelry shop he'd allowed Weasley to chase him out of little more than an hour before.

When he'd passed it earlier, he hadn't paid much attention, until the faint draw of Flair tugged at him. His own level so low, it was rare that he actually felt the Flair infused in most Crafted objects and he hadn't recognized it at first. It had pulled him in and he hadn't stopped to check out the shop itself. Now he saw it was in one of the exclusive sections of the Craftsmen's Row. A classic building with a large window. Gorgeous jewelry on intriguing displays beckoned browsers inside.

Draco shook his hair back and braced himself to look up at the sign above the door, ready to know the name of the man who was already under his skin.

Potter Metal and Stone

The air left his lungs and his eyes swung wildly from the sign to the faint scars on the man’s face. The iconic lightning shaped scar peeking out from the fringe of black hair covering his forehead.

The shy smile faded into a concerned frowned as the man, as Potter, stared at him.

"Is something wrong? Don't you like jewelry? I do other metal work as well…"

"Potter. Harry Potter?"

Green eyes shuttered a little before Potter glanced away to gaze at the ground.

"Yeah. Most of the stories are exaggerated but…"

Draco scooted back, shaking his head, trying to find words.  Trying to find an explanation for the cruel trick fate had played on them both.

Harry Potter had no idea who he'd just had tea with. And when he figured it out, Draco had no doubt, the disdain and scathing words he was used to from other Nobles, would be darker and harsher and crueler. Potter had every reason to hate the Malfoys.

And Draco had no reason to expect kindness from him.

"I-I have to go," he managed to stutter before turning and fleeing down the street.

Behind him, he could hear a surprised shout, a plea to wait. To come back. But he couldn't listen.

He did glance back once, but the shocked, confused expression made his heart ache. He started running again and didn't stop until he was nearly home.

#

Harry watched the man flee, locking his muscles tight to prevent him from freeing his instincts and giving chase. He waited until the blond hair disappeared around the corner. Then waited several minutes more, hoping against hope his Heartmate would return.

Eventually, Harry had to accept that the man wasn't going to come back. Avoiding the front door, and the possibility of having to deal with customers, he slunk around the side and down the alley to the back door. From his work room, Harry could hear Neville's soft tones and Ron's more excited ranting.

"I couldn't believe he was here, brazen as you please." Harry didn't need to see his best friend to imagine the wild gesticulating or the red flush under the spatter of freckles.

"Do you think he was trying to make trouble?" Neville asked.

"Dun 'no. I mean, a few years ago, I'd have been sure of it. But since, well, since his father's downfall and his own… misfortune, he's kept pretty out of sight."

"I suppose. It's still a bit worrying that he was in here, unattended for awhile."

"Where were you, anyway?"

"I had lunch with my grandmother. Harry was supposed to be here, but…"

"Yeah, customer service not exactly his strong suit. Wonder where he is?"

"Right here," Harry stepped into the showroom, feeling a warm flash of guilt for eavesdropping on his friends and abandoning his shop to them. "I was here, before. The man Ron chased away didn't do anything but look."

Ron paused in his pacing, cheeks puffing out and eyes rounding as he stared in disbelief at Harry. "You were here? And you didn't throw him out?"

"Why?" Harry frowned at his friend and at Neville, who was nodding in agreement next to Ron.

"Why?" The word exploded out of Ron. "Why would you want Draco Malfoy in your shop?"

"Malfoy?" Harry whispered the name around the hard knot of disbelief tightening his throat. "That was a Malfoy?"

He associated the name with Lucius. Sneering, arrogant Lucius Malfoy who had stood at Riddle's side when Harry had returned to the Noble Council to reclaim his Family and his name. Remembered how he'd stood as the bastard's second when Harry had issued the challenge and avenged his Family. Remembered the man’s shock when Riddle had fallen to Harry. Remembered the man’s disdain and anger even when he knelt, along with Riddle’s other cronies, and asked for an end to the Feud so no one else would have to face Harry in a duel.

"You really didn't recognize him?" Neville asked softly.

Harry shook his head. "No. How would I? I was thirteen by the time Dumbledore found me and brought me to Hogwarts. He did everything he could to keep anyone from finding out about my existence. Not many of the students, or their parents, ever came near the Groundkeeper's assistant."

"'Cept me and Hermione," Ron grinned and nudged Harry's shoulder with his own.

"Yeah. For the longest time, you two were my only friends."

"Well, at least Fang didn't actually eat us."

Harry laughed at Ron's rueful expression. He'd only been working with Hagrid for a few days when the two first years had stumbled down to the hut in the middle of the night. They'd been convinced Hagrid's boarhound was a Hellhound out to destroy the school and they were the only ones that could stop it. When Harry met the twins, later, he understood why they had believed the ridiculous story.

After a couple of years on the streets, the two year age difference seemed like an even bigger gap between him and the two students. Yet, to Harry, they had been a godsend in helping him. Dumbledore had done his best to give Harry the education he should have had, but their meetings had to be clandestine and worked around the Headmaster’s multitude of other duties.

Hermione came from the Common class, the first of her Family with enough Flair to be educated at the elite school. She was smart and an excellent tutor but as clueless about the nuance of the Nobles as Harry had been. And Ron came from an old NobleHouse, he knew the ins and outs and the unspoken rituals. But often he was as clueless about the academics as Harry was. Between the two of them, they complemented Harry's hit and miss education and were the reason he was as socialized as he was.

Eventually, the rest of the Weasley's had nosed their way into discovering Ron and Hermione's secret friend and Neville and Luna had rounded out his circle.

Even after he'd returned to society, the small group, along with Dumbledore, Hagrid, McGonagall and an exonerated Sirius were the only people he willingly broke his solitude for.

For a short time that afternoon, Harry had hoped he’d found one more person to add to his small circle. Now, though, it looked as if his Heartmate would never step foot inside his shop again, let alone take up the Heartgift.

A choked sound escaped his throat, startling all three of them.

"Harry, are you okay?" Neville asked.

"Yes. Fine." He forced himself to smile, and kept his gaze averted from the ring still mockingly in its place.

"What happened, mate? Why'd you leave shop? Where'd you go?" Ron asked.

Harry closed his eyes and scrubbed his hand over his face before answering.

"To have tea with the enemy, apparently."

"You had tea?" Ron said each word slowly, like it was some foreign language. "With Malfoy? And he didn't tell you who he was?"

"No. Don't think he knew who I was either. Not until I brought him back here." He dropped his hands and curled his fingers tight. "Now I know why he ran."

"Why would you care?" Ron asked, sounding both exasperated and confounded.

He couldn't answer. Couldn't say it out loud. No longer able to resist, Harry's eyes sought out the ring and lingered on it for too long before he could wrench his gaze away.

But Neville followed Harry's stare and his eyes widened with abrupt comprehension.

"The ring you put out this morning, it… Is that your Heartgift?"

Harry could only shrug. No use denying it. "It was time. Riddle's gone. My House is rebuilt. But it's empty. Time to rebuild my Family, as well."

"And you want to do that with your Heartmate," Neville nodded sadly.

"I connected during my Passage but didn't know who it was. Just knew he was out there, somewhere."

"What does any of this have to do with Malfoy?" Ron demanded, looking completely lost. He looked from Harry to Neville and back, dawning understanding pulled his face into a look of horror. "You don't mean… Malfoy… is your Heartmate?"

Harry could only nod, unable to find words.

Neville reached out, gently setting a sympathetic hand on Harry's shoulder. "What are you going to do, now?"

"I have no idea."

Chapter Text

Draco forced his feet to slow to a walk when he passed through the wrought iron gates separating the noble estates from the city center. The ivy covered brick wall created a sharp break between the stone-facades shops and the sprawling Houses tucked away on perfectly manicured lawns, half-hidden behind ancient trees or carefully placed hedges.

Hoping to avoid his parents until he could catch his breath and settle his mind, Draco took the concealed track along the backside of Malfoy Manor to the kitchen door. The cook's assistant glanced up, but immediately ducked his head and went back to chopping vegetables when Draco scowled darkly.

Once upon a time, half a dozen assistants would have been busily baking, slicing, stirring and prepping the evening meal. Upstairs and downstairs maids would have sashayed in and out of the kitchen and sundry other staff-members would have been underfoot. As depressing as the abrupt fall from grace had been, at the moment, Draco was grateful only one servant was around to see his flushed face and shaken appearance.

hoping to avoid his father, Draco took the back stairs. Instead, he ran into Xavier, his father's majordomo, at the second floor landing.

"Master Draco. I've been looking for you." Despite being an inch or two shorter, the man managed to look down his blade-sharp nose at Draco. No matter how old he got, Xavier always made him feel like a naughty eight-year-old boy. As if Draco had been deliberately hiding from him.

"Your father was under the impression you would return from Madam Malkin's hours ago. He'd like to see you in his office."

Draco winced, not ready to add his father's never-ending disappointment on top of the volatile emotions he'd endured that day. But keeping his father waiting any longer was not an option, either.

Trudging down the hall to accept his fate, Draco knocked on the open door and waited at the threshold.

His father didn't look up though Draco had no doubt Lucius knew he was there. His eyes remained on the papers in front of him, his hand occasionally moving to make a note or shift a chart. Leaving Draco standing, waiting, twisting his hands together despite his best attempt not to fidget.  

His heart thumped, his brain wracked for the reason his father's attention had fallen him.

Lucius couldn't have heard about Draco’s brief encounter with Potter, surely. They'd been tucked away where no one would really notice. He hadn't been trying to be discreet, hadn't realized there was a need. It wasn't like anyone paid attention to him anymore, anyway. But the gossips did follow Harry avidly…

His breath came faster and faster and he was beginning to fear his heart would beat right of out his chest when Lucius finally set aside his pen and looked up.

"I expected you home hours ago." The statement was simple, with no underlying hint that his father was waiting for him to crack and confess.

Draco held back the sigh of relief, not wanting to give Lucius reason to probe further, and answered with a half-truth.

"I, uh, stopped for tea."

Lucius steepled his fingers and leaned forward on his desk, a barely perceptible curve lifted his lips with satisfaction and Draco relaxed as much as he ever could around his father. Whatever this was, it wasn't about something Draco had done to disappoint.

"We've had a great deal of good news today. First, Walden Greengrass has shown interest in a marital alliance between you and his younger daughter, Astoria. I've managed to convince him that your… difficulty… is a unique aberration from the Black side, and no doubt the Malfoy strong Flair will breed true in future generations."

Draco choked, a hard knot of fear tightening his chest. The Greengrass Family was known for their crassness and loud, uncouth behavior. They showed little understanding of tradition even as they tried, unsuccessfully, to mimic it. Two or three generations before, they had been a wealthy Common family with meager Flair, until the patriarch started buying spouses for his children from impoverished Noble Families. The stories of them taking pleasure in berating, humiliating or discarding those spouses in a very public way were myriad and oft-repeated in hushed whispers. 

If Lucius managed to sell him to Greengrass, Draco would be little more than a sperm donor in their breeding program.

He opened his mouth wanting to protest, but unable to think of any argument that might sway Lucius. Before he could form a single word, his father's eyes grew harder and he shifted to lean back in his chair.

"In addition, we have another reason to rejoice. Your mother’s visits with Madam Pomfrey have finally succeeded."

Draco's mouth snapped shut. The House of Pomfrey was renowned for their Healing Flair. And Poppy Pomfrey specialized in fertility. While his parents had kept it a secret from society at large, Draco had known they'd been attempting to conceive another child since his disappointing Passage.  Their attempts to create a replacement for Draco had been unsuccessful, so far, and he had begun to allow himself to feel safe. His father would rather leave the Family in the hands of a Null than hand it over to a distant cousin who'd had the poor taste to marry an orphan with no Family ties at all.

"Mother is expecting?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes. She is safely in her fourth month and Poppy is confident she'll have a healthy pregnancy and child."

The warning was unspoken but clear. Draco was no longer necessary. He could still be useful as marriage alliance bait but, ultimately, he was expendable. He needed the Family much more than they needed him. Raised to be Heir, and eventually, Head of the Malfoy Family, meant Draco had no real world skills. His lack of Flair limited his options further.

Names and Family meant everything on Celta. If he were disowned, he would be considered untrustworthy and unreliable. Not even the lowest Common would hire him for the most mundane of unskilled labor.

He couldn't even turn to his mother's Family to take their name. Sirius Black would never accept Malfoy blood into his House.

Being disowned would leave him with nothing. No place to go and no one to turn to.

Draco could keep his name and sell himself to the Greengrass Family. Or he could try to survive on his own.

His shoulders drooped and his father's smile sharpened. Lucius knew he was getting his way.

"We're expecting Walden Greengrass and his Family for dinner this evening. I'm sure you'll have no trouble charming Astoria."

"Of course, father." Draco ducked his head wanting nothing more to escape. "I should begin preparing for dinner."

Lucius, already delving back into the sheaf of notes and charts on his desk, waved him out and Draco didn't linger.

Alone in his room, Draco sank down on his bed and dropped his face into his hands, no longer trying to hold back the tears of frustration and fear and unfairness. He should get up and get ready for the interminable evening ahead. Instead, he wiped his face and reached for the sketch book he kept on his nightstand. The pencil felt comfortable and natural in his hands. The quick strokes calming him in a way nothing else could.

Only a couple of hours earlier, he'd been happy, hopeful and lighthearted. He'd felt alive and wanted and sure that all of the feelings were mutual.

Now, he'd fallen back into reality with a painful crash. Reminded he was nothing more than a commodity to be traded or tossed aside.

When he was done sketching, an image of the ring in Potter's shop mocked him from the page. He’d never have anything of Potter's. Not his ring. Not his heart. Not even his attention, once the Savior discovered who his afternoon companion was.

With a snarl, Draco ripped the page from his book. Crushing it into a tight little ball, he threw it as hard as he could then watched it bounce and roll under his dresser. When it was gone from sight, Draco turned his back to look in his wardrobe for the perfect outfit with which to sell himself.

#

Harry paced the length of his drawing room in an endless loop. Pass after pass, back and forth, echoing the never ending spiral his mind slid into after grilling Ron and Neville for every detail they remembered about Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy.

His Heartmate's father had stood by Riddle for twenty-five years. Years of deceit, lies and dishonorable, underhanded scheming that had nearly undermined the political and social heart of Celta until Harry returned and exposed their machinations by defeating Riddle. Malfoy, of course, had been only one of many Families who had supported the madman. At the time, Harry had held them all accountable for the bastard's destruction and had been ready to Challenge every single one of them.

Dumbledore had been the voice of reason, however, and had forced him to accept concessions and reparations in lieu of Dueling. Accept that having every single Head of Family linked to Riddle's inner circle banned from sitting and voting in the Noble Council for one generation was punishment enough for the fact that he was alone. The sole survivor of a horrific night that had seen the slaughter of every other living Potter, the destruction of Harry's home, and the incarceration of his godfather. Not to mention the decade Harry had been forced into hiding.

Despite the physical resemblance, though, it was hard to equate Draco with Lucius. Even kneeling and humbled, the elder Malfoy had been cold and contemptuous and unrepentant. The man he'd had tea with had been warm, if guarded. Funny and smart and pleasurable to be around. He'd been wary, though, and restrained.

Finding out his Heartmate masked that vulnerability because he'd suffered a failed Passage had been a shock. The final Passage was supposed to merge innate psi and creativity into a magic as unique as the individual.  That Draco had suffered some affliction that had left him with less Flair than an adolescent, made Harry's heart ache. To know Draco had been shunned, alternately ignored and belittled by the peers who once admired and feared him made Harry want to seek him out and comfort him. Harry knew the feeling well. Of being separate and apart from the society he'd once been a darling of.

Beneath his feet, the House's Hearthstone flared, a warming, welcoming glow embraced him and eased a little of the loneliness. It could do nothing to make up for the empty house he inhabited, though. Rebuilding the Family House had been his first priority when he'd finished with Riddle. When he'd first returned to Celta City, there had been nothing left of Potter estate but rubble. Underneath the charred ruins, however, the Hearthstone had remain, pulsing with strength and magic that Riddle hadn't been able to destroy.  Harry had recreated the House of his childhood over the 'stone, every detail exactly as he remembered it.

At the moment, though, the echoing loneliness of the empty rooms was too much. The possibility that he might never share it with his Heartmate, liked he'd dreamed of all those years when he'd been forced to stay away, burned cold and furious in his gut.

With a growl, he bolted to the front door and escaped out into the warm night air. He had no plan, no thought of where he was going until he found himself outside the Black Family home.

"Harry!" Sirius greeted him with an affectionate smile. Like Harry, Sirius found himself a lone ghost rattling around a House intended to hold an entire clan. "Come in. I was just about to have a drink, care to join me?"

Nodding gratefully, Harry followed him through the quiet halls. From deep in the House, the Black Hearthstone reached out to him, like his own, eager to welcome and embrace him. Technically, he was not a part of the Black Family but he and the 'stone had a special bond.

In the den, a bottle of whiskey and a single glass already waited on the desk and Harry took a seat across from it while Sirius grabbed another cup from a drawer.

"You're talking to my Hearthstone again, aren't you?" Sirius poured the amber liquid while he spoke.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Talking isn't exactly the right word, but yes, I suppose you could say that. How'd you know?"

"It always feels happier when you’re here. Welcoming. Grateful."

Harry shrugged. "The crack wasn't that bad. I still can't believe your mother let Riddle anywhere near it."

One of the many details hushed up after Riddle's death was the revelation that he'd managed to coerce a few of his followers into letting him tap into the magic of the Family Hearthstones. In his duel with Harry, he'd drawn on that power in a dishonorable, futile attempt to survive, damaging many of the 'stones in the process. Only a handful of people knew what he'd done. No one knew how many Families might have been affected.

Harry's affinity for stone allowed him to fix the Black Hearthstone and it had reacted like a puppy to his presence in the Black House ever since.

The non-committal grunt that came from Sirius made Harry wince. Allowing Riddle access to the heart of the Family's power was the of least Walburga Black's inexplicable choices.

Harry had no idea what to say, so he sipped at the whiskey and let the burn briefly wash out the coldness that had settled in him the moment Draco had rushed away.

After several minutes of companionable silence, Sirius pinned him with a questioning stare. "So what has chased you to my door tonight, pup?"

Harry paused and lifted the glass to his lips. He hadn't come here to talk about that. Then again, he hadn't intended to come here at all.

"I took my Heartgift out of storage today."

"It's about time, Harry. I know you were waiting for the House to be done, but you've been living in it for over a year. Your Heartmate would have understood if only part of it were habitable. Whoever it is, I'm sure they're as eager to find you as you are to find them."

"Maybe." In his heart, all he could see was horrified gray eyes and platinum hair disappearing from sight.

 The theory was that the Heartgift drew true Heartmate's together. That Flair would recognize Flair, no matter how much or how little one had. Not everyone connected with their Heartmate during Passage, so not everyone could recognize their other half. If one half did not know, it was coercion to tell them. Forbidden to share the knowledge because there was no way, other than the Heartgift to know whether it was truth or lie.

The Heartgift, though, that was made specifically, during the fire of the Passage for the Crafter's other half, whether they connected or not. Everyone else in the world would ignore or even be repulsed by it. Only the true Heartmate would be drawn to it. Once accepted freely, both would know without a doubt, they truly belonged together. But if one didn't come to the gift without reservation, that connection might be permanently marred or broken.

"Harry? Did something happen?"

"This afternoon, my Heartmate walked into the shop. So close, so quickly. I thought, finally, fate was on my side. For once it had given me the easy path."

"It didn't work out that way, I take it?"

"He didn't even touch the ring, let alone accept it. His fingers were close, so close… Then he left the shop."

"What did you do?"

"Followed him. Invited him to tea."

His godfather's eyes widened in surprise. Harry had been surprised, himself. Cafes were not his usual stomping ground.

"And?" Sirius prompted when Harry remained silent a little too long.

"It was… There aren't words. We talked. About so many things. We… There's no doubt he's for me."

"He didn't feel the same way?"

"He did. Or seemed to. Until…"

"Until?"

"Until he found out my name."

"Oh, Harry. I'm sorry. I know there are some who still believe the wild-savage rumors Riddle's cronies tried to spread about you. You'll need to give him a little time to get to know you."

"It's not that, exactly. It's more about who he is."

Dark eyebrows drew together and Sirius frowned at Harry, no doubt recognizing the reluctance in his voice.

"Who is he?"

This was the hard part. The relationship between Sirius and his Family was complicated, full of betrayal and heartbreak. He'd run away at sixteen when his parents had first started supporting Riddle. Five years later, Regulus had broken free from the indoctrination and followed suit, disappearing shortly after defying Riddle. Walburga had blamed her eldest son for her Reg's fate. It had been his own mother who'd accused Sirius of leading the cowardly, middle of the night raid against the Potters. The evidence against Sirius had been contrived, but Riddle had been the head of the Inquisition into the attack.

Peter Pettigrew, the true traitor, had been the star witness against him. The final nails in his coffin were driven in by the testimony of his cousin Narcissa and her husband Lucius. With Regulus missing, Draco would have inherited the Black Family holdings upon his 21st birthday if Sirius hadn't been exonerated by Riddles downfall and Harry's testimony of what really happened that night.

Needless to say, Sirius had a great many issues with the Malfoys.

But Harry couldn't lie to his godfather. Couldn't even hold anything back. They'd clung together, especially those first couple of years. Two men getting used to the oppressiveness of Celta society after years of solitude. Two men left to pick up the pieces of their pasts and rebuild their Families.

"It's Draco Malfoy."

Sirius's mouth opened then closed. Then opened again. Then he picked up his cup and twisted his hand.

"Well," he said before downing what was left and setting the crystal tumbler carefully in front of him.

Harry nodded and poured more whiskey for both of them.

"Well," Sirius said again, obviously searching for words. "Malfoy. You're sure?"

Harry nodded glumly, staring at the whiskey while he slowly swirled his glass.

"And you… you want him?"

Harry didn't know how to explain the feeling, the rightness. He didn't know Draco yet. Not really.

"Sirius. I only spent an afternoon with him. But he's not like Lucius. Ron says he was, sort of, in school. But now. What happened… First Riddle's death and his Family's disgrace. Then his own difficulty. It changed him, I think."

Sirius nodded.

"Only one thing to do then." Sirius slammed back the liquor he held and picked up the bottle to refill it. "You'll have to go courting your Heartmate."

Harry nearly spit out the sip he'd just taken. "What? You want me to?"

He'd been sure Sirius would try to talk him out of it. Hadn't been sure if he'd listen or not.

"My problem isn't with young Draco," he shrugged. "It'll make you happy. And it will piss off Lucius. Two for one."

The smile Sirius flashed Harry was wide and real and the last knot of nerves loosened with his godfather's approval.  Then he thought about what Sirius said and swallowed hard.

"So, uh, how do I court my Heartmate?"

"Now that you'll have to go to someone else for help with. Didn't connect with my mate and my Heartgift has been tucked away since I went to prison. Your parents were the only couple I watched get together. I'm pretty sure they knew before either of them went through their Passage. Exchanged gifts within days of your mother's Passage and married a month later."

Harry thought about Ron and Hermione. They exchanged their Gifts the day after Ron's Passage. They'd only postponed the wedding this long because Hermione wanted to finish her apprenticeship with Mafalda Hopkirk before they got married.

The lines around his godfather's mouth had deepened again. And the Hearthstone was reaching out with warmth and consolation.

"Heartmate's are precious, Harry, but our chances are fleeting. Don't let the mistakes of another generation scare you away from trying to find happiness, wherever you can."

Harry had dreamed of finding his Heartmate in the years of desperate loneliness on the streets. Even at Hogwarts, where he'd regained some stability and friends, he'd still longed for the closeness his parents had had. Someone that was his, that he wouldn't have to give up.

He could marry anyone. Families had been throwing sons and daughters at him since his return, despite the rumors of his unbalanced sanity. Even Ginny had followed him around like a love-sick puppy until her Passage. He could only assume she'd connected with her own Heartmate and realized Harry wasn't the one after all.

But he wanted a Heartmate. Wanted someone to connect with so deep that he'd never feel alone again.  Never once considered settling for less.

He'd fought against greater odds to regain his name and his home. He could deal with Malfoys for in-laws.

#

Draco lifted his fork stiffly, took a careful bite, lowered his fork and chewed with slow precision. Focusing his way through each step of the eating process was the only thing that kept him from running out of the room screaming.

At one end of the table, his father and Walden Greengrass talked contracts and investments and endowments. Every word drove Draco into a darker mood, knowing that the conversation was a thinly veiled negotiation of the price of his pride.

At the other end of the table, Mrs. Greengrass was excitedly grilling Narcissa about the expected blessed event. Another carefully calculated move on his parents' part. Gossip was the bread and butter of Celta's society matrons. Being the first to know details of the Malfoys' impending addition would assure the Greengrass matriarch important invitations for a least a week or two.

His mother answered each impertinent question with a serene expression and a gracious smile. Only someone who knew her well would see the faint lines of distaste tighten around her eyes. Draco could almost feel sorry for her.

Almost. But he was too busy feeling sorry for himself. Because seated across from him was the living embodiment of the fate Draco had to look forward to.

Sebastian Nott.

The Nott Family was a NobleHouse and Draco had gone to school with Sebastian's younger brother, Theodore. The Family wasn't as old and venerable as the Malfoys, nor as rich, but Draco and Theo had run in some of the same circles.

When Riddle's inner circle fell from grace, the Notts had lost everything and Sebastian had married Daphne out of desperation. Now, the downtrodden husband of Astoria's older sister hunched over his plate, doing his best to avoid being noticed. Not that Draco blamed him. Over the previous four courses, the man had been berated, insulted and snubbed at every turn by his wife and her family.

Next to Sebastian, Daphne was the same as Draco remembered her from school. Loud, strident and uncouth. She didn't even bother to lower her voice when she leaned across the table to compare Draco and Sebastian with her sister.

"Well, at least yours is pretty." Daphne let her eyes rove over Draco with a leer before smirking at Astoria. "Too bad any children you have will be Nulls."

Astoria hissed at her sister. "Better than bean poles with buck teeth and your dreadful hair. Besides, nothing's been signed yet, Daddy still has time to find me someone better."

Then Astoria flipped her hair with a huff and eyed Draco the same way she'd stared at the dessert before devouring it. Draco kept his eyes on his plate, fingers gripping his fork so tight they cramped and forced himself to keep his face flat and expressionless.

"He is pretty, though. Perhaps father is right about him being a Black Family aberration and the children inheriting the full Flair of the Malfoys."

Astoria leaned closer to him to whisper salaciously in Draco's ear. "Maybe we can take a practice spin or two so I can see if you're worth the risk."

He dropped his fork to wipe the heavy spray of spit off his cheek where her seductive whisper had been anything but and lifted his chin.

"I would rather remain celibate for the rest of my life than risk drowning by bedding you."

Conversation around the table stopped abruptly and every eye in the room turned to stare at him. Except Nott, who kept his head down and tried to look even smaller to stay out of the line of fire.

Walden's face turned fuchsia and his eyebrows twitched ominously. Next to him, Lucius remained calm, lips turned down in a slight frown of irritation. Draco saw the icy sheen of fury in his father's eyes, however, and swallowed hard, knowing he'd pushed too far.

"Narcissa, dear, I was just telling Walden about your lovely rose garden. Why don't you take our guests out for an after dinner stroll?"

"Lucius—" Greengrass growled.

"Don't worry. I know roses can only hold the attention of a busy man such as you for so long. I saved an excellent port especially for this evening. I'll have Xavier show you to my study in a few minutes. I just have a bit of business to take care of, then we can continue with ours."

Lucius stared at Draco, his voice heavy with significance. Greengrass harrumphed but grudgingly followed the rest of his family out when Narcissa led the way. Draco remained in his seat, head bowed and not meeting anyone's eyes while they left. Belatedly, he realized he'd assumed the same posture Nott had been holding all night. He tried to bring his chin up defiantly but he couldn't control the trembling.

His father had foregone the calm mask and his features twisted into dark fury.

"I thought you understood how important this alliance is." He slammed his hands on the table and stood up, snarling at Draco. "Not only for the Family, but for your future."

In other words, this was Draco's only chance at a future. Draco couldn't speak around his suddenly parched throat. Could only swallow hard and nod.

Lucius straightened, running a hand down the front of his tunic, smoothing out the fabric at the same time his expression smoothed back into calm self-assurance.

"I thought you would jump at the chance to finally be of some use to the fortunes of the Family."

Because his only use was as a discount sperm donor.

"Yes, father. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

At least, not out loud. He could think all the nasty thoughts he wanted, though. For the rest of his life.

"Good. Then you will go apologize to Astoria and I will work to smooth things over with her father. Lucky for you, Greengrass is greedy to climb another social rung. Marriage into a FirstFamily, no matter the circumstance, will give him that."

Lucius turned away, snapping orders at Xavier, his son already dropped from his awareness.

Draco trudged out to the garden, body and heart heavy with defeat.

For a brief, bright time that afternoon, Draco had felt real and alive. But it had been just another cruel trick of fate. The memory of that hour in the tea shop would have to sustain him through the dark, depressing, hopeless years to come.

#

Harry raised his hand and pulled it away three times, unable to make himself knock on the Burrow's door. His nervousness was ridiculous, considering the Weasley House was one of his favorite places to be. It was home in a way his own House just wasn't, yet.

The building sprawled out unlike any other House in Celta City. A hodgepodge of architecture from different eras glued together as if each new generation had slapped another addition on just because they could. Distinct from the surrounding estates, the expansive lawn had been allowed to grow wild and untamed. Heavy trees holding forts and swings surrounded the boundary and wildflowers grew in a riot of colors in scattered patches.

The whole place was filled with laughter and arguments, tears and shouts. The sounds of family. The sounds of a real home.

Pushing past the embarrassment, Harry forced his knuckles to rap firmly.

A few seconds later, the front door whipped open and the identical faces of the twins leered from the foyer.

"Well, if it isn't Harry," George greeted him.

"Ronniekins must have forgotten you were stopping by. He's gone out," Fred added.

"Lucky for you, Mum always makes extra pancakes. Come in, come in." They shifted to either side of the door and waved Harry in between them.

"I'm not here to see Ron," he explained, stepping inside warily. For the most part, they'd outgrown the pranks, now channeling their creative energy into their myriad of inventions. But every now and then… "I was hoping your mother might have a few minutes to talk to me."

"Well, if you're willing to risk it…" George said, lips twisting into a sour frown.

 Fred gave a shudder, eyes squeezing tight before he whispered dramatically, "We'll show you where they are, but we won't go in. You'd best brace yourself."

George nodded emphatically. "It's terrible."

Before Harry could ask any questions, they were dragging him through the halls, stopping outside what he was pretty sure was the formal dining room, though he'd never known the family to actually use it.

Fred paused with his hand on the door knob. "Last chance to run. Are you sure you want to see this?"

He didn't wait for an answer though, just twisted the handle and pushed so the door slammed loudly against the inside wall.

Both twins shrieked, raising their arms in front of their faces and stumbling backward.

"The horror!"

"We must flee!"

They wheeled in a synchronized motion and ran back the way they'd come. Harry stared after them before turning to get his first good look at the dining room.

Inside, Hermione, Ginny and Molly Weasley blinked at Harry in surprise. The long table was covered in a riot of colors and fabrics, scraps of papers and pictures.

"Those boys," Mrs. Weasley muttered, then stood and crossed the room to hug him. "Harry, dear, what a lovely surprise. Ron's gone out, though."

"I heard," he said distractedly, unable to tear his eyes away from where Ginny was draped in about a dozen different fabrics. Or Hermione, whose hair was a perfect, precise braid on one side, and a riotous mass of curls on the other. "What's all that?"

"Wedding plans," Molly explained with a soft smile and a wave of her hand.

"Which is why Ron's remembered errands he had to run so early in the morning. He's avoiding us." Ginny's smirk was slightly vicious.

"It also explains the twin's theatrics," Hermione added, rolling her eyes with exasperation. "They think they're hilarious."

"Don't mind them," Molly patted his hand. "There are lots of pancakes left. I could warm some for you, if you wanted to wait for Ron in the kitchen."

"No, I already had breakfast. I just…"

Harry looked at Hermione then Ginny, embarrassing heat burning in his cheeks. He'd hoped to talk to Mrs. Weasley alone. But if Ron hadn't already told Hermione, it was only a matter of time.

Harry cleared his throat. "I just wanted to ask you about the traditional courting rituals."

Hermione gasped and Ginny choked, but Molly, bless her, didn't bat an eye, just patted his hand and led him to a chair.

"All right, Harry," she started, pouring tea for him before taking the seat next to him. "Now, do you have someone in mind? Or should we start a list of eligible prospects?"

"No!" He may have overreacted but this was humiliating enough, he couldn't imagine how bad it would be to have them categorizing and prioritizing potential spouses. "I, uh, it's my Heartmate. I met him."

Ginny and Hermione both leaned in eagerly, obviously expecting to get the juicy details. Like a name. But too many people knew already when it was suppose to stay secret.

Molly narrowed her eyes at the two girls and they sat back reluctantly, then she focused on Harry again. "What about your Heartgift? You've put it out, I assume?"

Harry remembered the hot burn of hope when Draco had approached the ring. And the cold ash of disappointment when he'd run away.

"He didn't-" Harry bit off the explanation, not wanting to think about that moment any more. "It's complicated."

"I see. Well, then, let's start with the basics."

"Oh!" Hermione startled them all with her shout, and was already digging in her ever-present, over-stuff bag. "I have just the book. I got it for the wedding tips."

A small, pink book appeared out of the bottomless tote and Harry found himself holding it, his stomach sinking before he even read the gold-lettered title on the front.

Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Love, Courtship and Marriage.

#

Two hours later, Harry's mind whirled in a chaotic twist of rules, suggestions and guidelines. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had thrown so much at him so fast, he doubted he'd remember any of it by the time he got home.

"Harry, wait."

Ginny's voice startled him out of his daze. He tensed, waiting for her to catch up. She'd been quiet during the whole courtship lesson and he really hoped it hadn't brought a resurrection of her schoolgirl crush.

He let himself breathe a little easier when she was standing in front of him though. There was no longing or jealousy, just a sisterly concern.

"Look, Harry, Mom and Hermione mean well, but both of them met their Heartmates while they were still in school. Connecting and exchanging Heartgifts were just formalities. Hermione only knows what she's learned in books and mom, well, she's a little old fashioned."

"Okay," Harry said slowly, head still swimming from the overload of information.

Ginny rolled her eyes and linked her arm through Harry's and they started walking again.

"What I'm saying is that the traditional stuff might help, but it's better if you know your mate. Find out what he likes. Find out what you have in common. Get to know him. Let him get to know you."

"That might be difficult."

"More difficult than remembering all the dos and don'ts of proper courtship?" Ginny let go of him and smirked when his head dip in agreement. "I have to get back before they decide on magenta for the bridesmaids' dresses in my absence."

Harry watched her go, knowing she was right. He needed Draco to know him. Not the myth or the rumors. And not some parody of him that could recite the proper phrases and pretend to know all the correct actions.

The conversation they'd had over tea came back to Harry and he smiled, detouring away from the path home and heading for the park.

#

Draco loved the cultivated wildness of the City Preserve. A stretch of forest left intact in the middle of Celta City while civilization continued to spread out around it. 

A riot of trees and plants, roaming wildlife and Celta Lake at its heart. All neatly nurtured and tamed by the rangers who maintained the network of trails, various picnic area and seating areas, as well as carefully controlling the exact population and ratio of animals roaming throughout the park.

It was his favorite place to sketch. After the disaster of dinner, the serenity and peace of the cultivated wilderness washed away some of the bitter taste left from sucking up to Astoria for the rest of the previous evening. Comfortably ensconced at one of the picnic tables, he let his mind drift while sketching a study of the lake.

A spark of awareness raced over his skin, a tingling and pulling that dragged his attention away from the page and caused goose bumps to erupt along his arms. He turned his head, somehow knowing what he'd see before he looked.

Harry Potter.

In the shadow of two huge trees at one of the trail heads, he would have been easy to miss but Draco's eyes were drawn right to him.

And Potter stared right back. The dark hair flopped across his forehead, teeth sunk into bottom lip and hands tucked into pockets, looking uncertain yet determined. Then he ducked his head and stepped out, moving deliberately toward Draco.

Draco knew he should get up, should leave before this became untenable. Yet he remained rooted in place, unable to look away, heart thumping and skin buzzing in anticipation.

By the time Harry sat down across from him, it took all of his reserve to keep from showing any surprise. Instead, he snapped out, "What are you doing here?"

"You said yesterday that you liked to sketch in the preserve." One broad shoulder rose then fell and dark lashes veiled green eyes. "I was hoping to find you."

That stopped Draco short. They'd talked about so many things over tea. It had been so comfortable, so easy to share things with Harry. Things he usually kept close and unspoken. This was his private sanctuary. And sketching was a very private endeavor.

Without much Flair, he'd never be more than an amateur. Never be an Artisan. Yet one more dream lost. He hadn't shared his art with anyone since his school days.

But the fact that Potter remembered. That he'd sought Draco out, sent a sharp rush of pleasure spiraling through him.

"You came looking for me?"

"Yes." Harry lifted his eyes and his smile was wide and genuine. It warmed Draco for a second with hope and surprise. Until a cold shiver of realization chased all the heat and joy away.

"You don't know who I am," he murmured with resignation then ducked his head and stared at the drawing on his sketchbook.

Harry leaned his forearms on the table, shifting a few inches closer and answered calmly, "You're Draco Malfoy."

His head flew up, heart racing. Potter knew. He knew and he still came.

"Why?" Draco demanded. "What kind of game are you playing?"

Harry reared back, eyes wide. "What? No. I'm not playing."

"Right, you just decided to seek out the useless, Flairless son of your enemy? The son of a man you were ready to duel to the death five years ago?"

He slammed his sketchbook closed and scrambled to his feet. He should have known better. Known it was too good to be true. Known that no one would give a damn about him.

Harry started to rise, started to reach out but Draco jerked out of his reach.

"Don't. Don't touch me. Don't talk to me. Stay away from me."

He turned on his heel and, for the second time in two days, ran away from Harry Potter, his heart aching with loss of things he'd never had.

Chapter Text

For three days, Draco spent as much time as he could hiding in his room. Missing a man he'd only met twice. Avoiding his mother's preparations for the official announcement of the upcoming blessed event. Ignoring his father's angry glare and irritated snapping when Draco's simple presence reminded Lucius that Greengrass hadn't contacted him since the disastrous dinner.

Ignoring the hard, dark knowledge that he had no future of his own to look forward to. Instead, his best hope was marriage to a harridan who'd make his life a living hell. Or life alone, nameless, Flairless, on the street.

Alone, when, if things had been very, very different, he maybe could have had Harry Potter. After he'd run from the park like the hounds of Hell were on his heels, once he'd locked himself away and forced his breath and heart into some semblance of normal, he'd calmed enough to remember every moment of the encounter in excruciating detail.

Realized there'd been no mocking or deceit in those emerald eyes. Remembered Potter's reputation of sometimes brutal honesty. Draco was so used to being mocked, dismissed and ignored, it had been a knee-jerk reaction to expect the worst of everyone.

Only in retrospect, had he recognized that warmth and attraction in Potter had been genuine. He still had no idea what the man had been offering, if anything. Doubted they'd have been able to get past the dark history of their Families for something permanent.

But maybe, just maybe, they could have had a brief, brilliant affair. A chance for Draco to have gathered memories of laughter and pleasure to hoard against the lifetime of misery he looked forward to.

He'd messed that up, though. Just like everything else.

Instead, of some exciting, clandestine affair, he'd spent the past three days torturing himself drawing sketches of Potter. His hands. His eyes. The way his dark hair flopped over his scar. The lopsided way his lips quirked when he smiled.

An unexpected knock at his door made Draco jump then shove his sketchbook under the blankets before snarling, "What?"

Xavier entered, returning Draco's glare with his usual supercilious expression.

"Master Draco, your presence is required downstairs."

Draco nodded aloofly and followed the majordomo. He fought to keep his face cold and blank, hiding the tremor of unease threatening to make his chin quiver and his hands shake. His family hadn't noticed his reclusiveness over the past few days. Or they hadn't cared. 

So the only reason he could be wanted, now, was for something having to do with Greengrass. Whether acceptance or rejection, it was bad news for Draco.

Halfway down the stairs he caught sight of dark hair and broad shoulders waiting in the foyer, bottle of wine in his hand and returning Lucius's glare without any sign of being intimidated.

"Potter?" The gasp escaped him before he thought about how much the soft way he said the name would reveal.

Harry and Lucius both looked up, Harry's face brightened into a welcoming smile as soon as he saw Draco. Lucius, however, speared him with a furious glare and Draco remembered where he was and how he was supposed to react.

"What are you doing here?" He forced his face into a scowl to hide the hopeful smile.

"Courting." Potter lifted the bottle of wine and shrugged like the answer should be obvious. Like anyone would expect to find Harry Potter in the House of his second greatest enemy, courting a near Null.

Draco's lips parted but he couldn't find any words. His father looked equally stunned when Harry turned and stretched out his hands toward Lucius with the bottle cradle between them. He bowed slightly, though his eyes and mouth pulled tight.

"From my House to yours. May your Family prosper and thrive." He spoke slowly, the words stilted and precise, like he was reciting something recently memorized. Because of the deep meaning and symbolism of Heartgifts, giving gifts of any kind to a potential mate was taboo. It was traditional to offer gifts to the Family in order to express interest and respect, instead.

Lucius pinched his lips so tight a ring of white outlined them, standing out starkly against the red flush of anger masking his face. It was obvious he wanted to refuse the gift outright, but Draco was of age and, as yet, not formally betrothed. Etiquette maintained it was Draco's choice.

"Draco?" Lucius's look was heavy with expectation that the offer would be rejected.

But those green eyes were on him again, too. Hopeful, wary. Longing. No one wanted Draco. No one wanted to even be near him. There was no way he could refuse. No way he could risk giving up his last chance.

Taking a deep breath and carefully avoiding his father's eyes, Draco walked down the last few stairs until he stood in front of Harry.

"We could retire to the parlor for a few minutes, if you'd like?"

Harry's shoulders relaxed and he moved a half step closer. "Thank you."

"Of course," Lucius said, distracting Draco from the intense focus of Harry's eyes. "However, Draco, I do need to speak to you for a moment. Xavier, would you show Mr. Potter to the parlor?"

Draco could actually feel his father's fury, though anyone who didn't know him would only see a soft frown and narrowed eyes.

"What is going on, Draco? Why is Potter courting you?" Lucius demanded as soon as Harry moved out of earshot.

"We met. We didn't recognize each other, at first. When I did, I left. Apparently, I made an impression."

Draco lifted one shoulder in a shrug, as if he didn't understand it, either. It wasn't a lie, because Potter's continued interest, despite everything, was a real mystery to him.

"Whether we like it or not, Potter's opinions carry a great deal of weight. I figured it was best not to offend him."

Draco was fairly certain his father knew he was lying, but he didn't demand any answers.

"Get rid of him as quickly as possible. If Greengrass thinks he has to compete with Potter, he might drop consideration of the betrothal completely."

Lucius walked away and Draco took a deep, steadying breath before heading into the parlor.

#

As soon as Harry was alone in the sitting room, he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, trying to release some of the tension that had crept into every muscle. An unsettling energy had poked at him, crawled over him as soon as he'd entered the House but he'd forced himself to shrug it off and focus on the Malfoys.

 Despite his effort to look calm and confident, he'd known it was far from certain that Draco would accept his overture.  Even if Draco had been willing to take a chance on him, Harry hadn't been sure he'd openly defy his father's obvious displeasure.

But the band of fear around his chest had given way to hope as soon as Draco had invited him to stay.

When Draco finally joined him, carefully closing the door to give them a modicum of privacy, Harry knew his smile had to border on goofy, but couldn't help it. Then it twisted into a frown when Draco stayed by the door, face blank and guarded.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with quiet dignity. It wasn't angry or hopeful. He just sounded tired and confused.

Harry's mind went blank. All the words and traditions Hermione and Molly had tried to cram into his head were completely gone.

Instead, all he could do was state the obvious. "I'm here to court you."

A slight twitch of lips, lightened Draco's expression. "Yeah. I see that. Why? I asked before, but didn't wait for an answer. Is this some kind of prank?"

"W-why would I?" Harry stuttered, stunned by the question.

"That's what I can't figure out. Why would you court me? I'm practically a Null. My Family is… you have every reason to hate my Family."

Draco's whole body slumped, and Harry didn't think about it. He crossed the room in two steps, wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him in tight. Molly had hammered into him 'no touching without invitation' but he couldn't not do everything in his power to comfort his Heartmate.

Then Draco hugged him back, burying his head into Harry's neck.

"Why?" Draco asked again, quiet and plaintive and wistful.

Because you're mine. The words hammered at his tongue to escape, but he swallowed them back. Instead, he lifted one hand to push a blond strand of hair out of Draco's eyes, letting his fingers slide through the soft silk.

"Because you're beautiful. And smart. Sarcastic and sweet. Because I want to know you more."

"You've met me twice."

"Three times, now."

"It's enough to overcome the fact that my father was Riddle's right-hand man? That I'm a laughing stock among Nobles? That I don't have as much Flair as a Common?"

"Draco," Harry whispered to stop his litany of faults.

How could he explain without breaking all the rules? This was too important to fuck up. Telling Draco they were Heartmates could mean never being allowed to see him again.

Before he could find the words, Draco's hands pushed against Harry's chest, pulling out of the embrace.

"No. You're supposed to be rebuilding your Family. Don't know what you’re doing here but you can't—"

Harry stepped forward, cutting him off, though he kept space between them so Draco wouldn't feel crowded.

"Do I seem like the type who plays silly games to you? After everything I've been through? Everything I still have to fix?"

He took a deep breath, meeting Draco's eyes and forcing himself to be open in a way he hadn't since the night he'd lost his whole world.

"I've had my vengeance with Riddle. I wanted to destroy everyone, but Dumbledore and Sirius convinced me to let go of the vendetta. To choose to focus on the future rather than the past. To have a life. I wouldn't be here if you weren't what I wanted."

Since meeting Draco, he talked more than he had in a long time. He was out of words, now. Action had always been more of his strong suit, anyway.

His hand slid around to cup the back of Draco's neck, pressing their lips together in a firm kiss. Soft, sweet, hot.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever felt.

The sound of the door opening loudly startled them apart and Draco jumped away so fast, Harry felt bereft of the warmth and touch of his Heartmate.

For the first time, Harry saw Lucius's mask slipped. The cold, monster rage flashed only briefly before the smooth disdain slid back into place, but it was chilling.

The Hearthstone echoed the master of the House's emotion, flashing a chaotic roll of darkness and Harry realized what had been causing the uneasy feeling in him since he'd walked into Malfoy Manor. Before he could figure out what it meant though, Lucius's words were whipping into his heart.

"Good news, Draco. Greengrass has finally sent over a formal betrothal proposal. He'd like for you and Astoria to join as soon as possible." Malfoy's eyes flashed maliciously toward Harry. "Of course, we can discuss the details in private, later."

Jealously coiled like a snake in his chest and Harry had to fight back the urge to shove Draco behind him. To protect him. Defend him. Stake a claim on him.

Mine, mine, mine. The mantra hammered inside of him. Then Lucius smirked at him, a cocky expression that silently proclaimed he had the upper hand. That he had won.

"I hope you don't mind cutting your visit short, Mr. Potter. Draco and I have important business to take care of."

Malfoy sneered when he said the Family name, making it somehow sound like an insult. It grated in a way Harry couldn't ignore.

Harry rolled his shoulders back, cocked his head and forgot the few niceties he'd learned over the past five years.

"Of course. Before I go, though, I just thought I'd offer my services." Harry graced Lucius with a vicious smile. He knew a secret he was pretty sure Lucius would prefer to take to the grave and he had no qualms about laying it on the line. "If you'd like me to fix your Hearthstone, my rates are reasonable. Though, from the feel of it, the damage must be extensive."

"What?" Lucius snarled, face streaking red with anger. Draco gasped quietly, eyes swinging between Harry and his father.

Harry shrugged, feigning nonchalance though his body was tight and primed for a fight.

"Wouldn't have thought you'd have been among those inept enough to allow Riddle anywhere near the heart of your House and Family."

"How dare you?"

Harry feigned misunderstanding. "Oh, it's not that risky. I fixed the Black Family's Hearthstone. I'm sure I can fix yours."

"Get out!" Malfoy's face was now completely red and twisting into fierce rage. A dark current ran through the air and the stones trembled under Harry's feet, though he knew no one else could feel the dangerous evidence of the Malfoy's Hearthstone's instability.

"Harry, maybe you should go," Draco said, sliding in next to him, not quite touching in a way that made Harry ache to pull him close.

He tore his eyes away from Lucius, pinning Draco's gaze with his own, pleading with every fiber of his being.

"Don't sign anything, Draco. Don't do anything, yet. Give me a chance."

"My son knows his duty to his Family," Lucius cut in with a sharp, biting tone.

"Go, Harry, please," Draco whispered, shifting slightly and herding Harry toward the door. His face was even paler than usual and he looked completely lost. Harry realized the fallout of this would land squarely on Draco and guilt settled heavy and cold in his gut.

"Okay. I'm going. Just please, think about it. I won't give up. I'll be back."

"No, you won't." Lucius had regained some of his composure but his words still snapped harshly. "You are not welcome in Malfoy Manor. And if you spread those lies about our Hearthstone, I'll…"

"You'll what?" Harry asked stiffening. "Challenge me?"

Malfoy blanched at the reminder that he'd already knelt, made a public apology and accepted a lifetime ban from the Noble Council to avoid that fate.

Draco inhaled sharply, then grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him from the room. "Come on, Harry. I'll walk you out."

Once outside the imposing front door, the adrenaline faded and Harry realized what a mess he had made of an afternoon meant to woo his Heartmate. He reached out, letting his fingers rest along Draco's jaw.

"Just, think about it, okay?"

For a second, Draco pressed his cheek into Harry's hand. Then he lifted his chin and took a step back.

"I have to go," Draco murmured and turned, headed into the Manor and let the door close firmly between them.

Harry trudged down the walk, heart heavy with fear and regret.

#

Lucius was waiting for him as soon as Draco stepped back into the foyer. Draco's stomach twisted in a knot when he faced his father and his mind whirled in an attempt to make some sense of the past hour.

"Is it true? Is there something wrong with the Hearthstone?" Draco knew it was a mistake as soon as he asked, but he couldn't ignore it.

Lucius reared back, fingers curling into a tight fist and he glared hotly at Draco. For several racing heartbeats, anger vibrated in the air and Draco thought his father might actually hit him.

 Then Lucius jerked his shoulders straight, head high and lips twisted into a disgusted sneer.

"I think, perhaps, you are overwrought, Draco. How could you believe the nonsense spouted by someone who'd love to see our Family destroyed once and for all?"

The sneer slipped into a pitying smirk and Lucius patted him on the shoulder.

"I know you can't really believe he is interested in you? You're just a pawn to him. Why don't you go to your room and rest. We'll go over the details of the betrothal tomorrow."

Dismissing Draco without waiting for a response, Lucius turned and called for Xavier on his way to his office.

Draco stood in the foyer for several long minutes, alone and still trying to catch up with his thoughts. Eventually, though, he trudged mindlessly up to his room, sank down on the floor and tried to figure out what was real and what was a lie.

Potter's claims were outrageous. Crazy.

There'd been whispers that Potter had fixed the Black's 'stone. But that was just gossip. Wasn't it? Another miracle attributed to the Savior.

Everyone knew the Riddle Hearthstone had ended up a smoking mass after the duel. That Riddle, more insane than anyone had ever guessed, had actually tried to channel the wild power of his Family's anchor to make himself more powerful.

But it would have taken the Head to allow Riddle to connect with another Family's Hearthstone. He could almost see it with Walburga Black, by the end she'd been certifiable. But Lucius?

His father wouldn't, couldn't, have been careless and greedy enough to allow that madman near the most precious thing their Family possessed?

If it were true, though, Riddle died before Draco's Passage. If the Hearthstone was damaged, like Riddle's had been, it would have been before Draco's… failure.

Was it his failure, though? The final Passage was about making connections. To Heartmate. To Family. To the Hearthstone. Pulling those connections together along with creativity and psi to release the channels of Flair. In his first two Passages, he'd had no problem channeling through the 'stone. But when the third started, he'd automatically reached for it and that's when it all went wrong. His Flair had gone wild, had fed back into him, burnt through him. Left him a husk.

If he'd channeled his Flair through a flawed Hearthstone…

His breath rushed in and out, his heart strained under a racing rhythm and his body reacted to the horrifying possibility with racking shivers.

Had it not been him? Was it not some weakness or karma that had left him this way? Could his father really have let him believe, all this time, that it had been his own deficiency?

Draco had to know. Had to see for himself. But he couldn't go now. He'd never get anywhere near it when the household was awake.  The Hearthroom had been off limits for years. Even for his final Passage, Lucius had insisted he'd be more comfortable in his own room. That a true Malfoy could connect from anywhere on Celta.

And wasn't that another telltale sign that Draco had missed? So he waited, pacing his room ceaselessly for the hours until he was sure the whole house was fast asleep.

In the pitch black of the middle of the night, he crept down the stairs on silent feet and used the talents learned during a less-than-innocent childhood to get himself through the lock to the underground sanctuary.

The six foot quartz crystal dominated the square room, its inner spin of colors the only light.

Draco moved closer, horrifyingly fascinated by the dark patches swirling in the bright stone. His Flair flickered and sputtered, an unnerving tingling that both reached for the anchor and was repulsed by it. There was none of the warm welcoming he remembered. Now hostility and malice vibrated from the crystal.

He circled it, unable to take his eyes off of it. When he got to the far side, Draco sank to his knees, all the breath rushing out of him.

A long white crack, stark against the swirling colors, ran from the tip of the giant crystal all the way to the base and disappeared beneath the foundation.

#

It was late. Or early, depending on how one looked at it. Harry didn't really care one way or another. Had no idea how long he'd been out here on the balcony of his bedroom, a forgotten glass of whiskey in one hand, the platinum and tearstone ring in his other. He hadn't bothered to keep track of the time. Only knew the moon had risen hours ago and he'd been tracking it across the sky while he replayed every minute of the fiasco at Malfoy Manor, over and over again.

Had he blown it? Could he find some way to fix it? Or would he only make it worse by trying?

His Heartmate had a betrothal proposal from someone else. A low grumble welled up and he swallowed some of the whiskey to drown it.

What would he do if his Heartmate married someone else? What would it do to him? He'd survived losing his Family and his home. He'd survived and triumphed in a duel with the man purported to be the most powerful in the history of Celta.

He didn't think he'd survive Draco with someone else, though.

Below, he felt the hum of warning from his Hearthstone that someone had entered his home, followed by the flush of recognition. Harry didn't move when he heard the footsteps coming closer, just rested against the balcony railing and stared up at the night sky.

He didn't need to turn around to recognize the sound of Sirius's footsteps.

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded, fear, pain and whiskey making him belligerent.

"Molly and the others were worried."

His godfather leaned against the railing a couple of feet away, silently offering companionship without crowding him. The only one who really understood the way the need for space fought constantly for the need to not be alone inside of him.

"They've been trying to reach you all day to find out how it went."

"The fact that I didn't answer should tell them everything they need to know." Harry glared down at his nearly empty glass, wondering where it all went and if it was worth it to walk back inside to get a refill.

"Probably don't want to talk about it, do you?"

"Not really."

Next to him, Sirius nodded silently. After a few minutes, Harry couldn't stand the stillness any longer.

"I fucked up. I confronted Lucius. I practically asked Draco to choose me over his Family. Pick me over a betrothal request he already has."

"Did he?"

"No. It was, he was so stressed, I couldn't push him. I just left when he asked."

"You did the right thing, Harry. Choosing to go against your Family is never an easy choice."

"I shouldn't have tried so hard. I should have been more patient."

"Do you know the real reason I haven't put my Heartgift out?"

Harry finally looked up at his godfather, surprised out of his melancholy by the abrupt change of conversation. Sirius had always declared he was happy as a bachelor. Harry had never really thought to wonder if he meant it.

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid."

"Sirius?" That didn't make sense. His godfather was fearless. It was his courage and his brazenness that usually got him into trouble.

"Your parents were together long before the formalities. The same with Remus and Andromeda. So in love, so perfect together. I wanted that same kind of relationship. But I didn't even connect with my Heartmate. I was afraid I would end up with someone less perfect. Or worse, no one at all."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking away from Harry and up at the moon.

"At first, I hid my Heartgift away and said it was because so much was going on. I was in the middle of trying to help your parents expose Riddle. I was estranged from my Family. I kept it locked up. Said it was because I didn't want to bring anyone into the mess my life was."

"But, now—"

"Now, I have no right to put it out. He or she is probably already married. Already has someone to share their life with. Trying to attract my mate now would cause them nothing but problems and heartache."

Silence pulsed for a few heartbeats. Sirius seemed to have run out of words and Harry didn't know what to say.

Eventually, though, Sirius turned to him and broke the silence.

"The truth is, I'm still afraid. Afraid of being rejected. Afraid my Heartmate can't live up to decades of fantasies. Or that they'd be disappointed they were getting me. Worst of all, afraid to find out there's no Heartmate at all."

"Sirius. You can still—" But the look on his godfather's face stopped him. Harry thought about how he'd felt earlier, raw and raging, at just the possibility of Draco's betrothal.

If he'd discovered Draco only to find him already bound to another, Harry didn't know what he would have done.

"You still have a chance." Sirius squeezed his shoulder. "You know your Heartmate. Don't give up until he gives you an answer. It's better to know for sure. And know you did all you could. It's better than spending a lifetime wondering."

"So what do I do, now? After alienating his father, putting him on the spot and pretty much throwing out all the courting traditions in one fell swoop?"

"I don't know," Sirius laughed but there was no humor in the sound. "Why don't you sleep on it. Maybe it won't look so glum in the morning."

Harry looked down at his hands. The empty glass and the shining ring. "Yeah. It can't look any worse, right?"

#

Draco was waiting in his father's office when the sun rose. The eruption of emotions and questions had settled into a numbness that kept him from thinking too long or too hard about the meaning and the consequences of what he'd discovered.

Lucius paused in the doorway when he saw his son, but his face smoothed over the surprise quickly and he settled at his desk before acknowledging Draco.

"Well, I hope this early morning visit means you've calmed down and are ready to talk about your future."

He tapped a sheaf of papers on the desk with authority. The same papers Draco knew held the Greengrass betrothal proposal. Yesterday, he would have winced at the sight of them. Today he didn't even twitch, just kept his gaze level and his voice clipped.

"Yes. Yes, I'm definitely ready to talk about my future. First, though, I wanted to talk about the past."

"Draco." His father's tone was filled with dark warning, but Draco wouldn't back down anymore. He couldn't.

"How could you let Riddle touch the Hearthstone, father? Why? What did you get out of it? Was it worth the price?"

"Draco, I told you Potter was just—"

"I. Saw. It."

The fire of anger burned through the numbness and Draco knew he had to fight it back if he wanted to get any kind of answers.

"I saw the Hearthstone."

"The Hearthroom is off limits. How dare you?"

"It's off-limits because you don't want anyone to see the giant crack running through it."

His father's eyes bulged and his mouth worked but Draco was done with the games.

"Were you really so desperate for power that you would whore out the heart of the Family?"

"He was supposed to improve it." Lucius snarled. "To strengthen it. I had no idea what he'd done until he died and it cracked."

Draco sank back into the chair. "But you knew. You knew it was the 'stone that fucked up my Passage. Why? Why would you let me think it was me? Why would you let the world believe you'd had a near-Null?"

"Because I'd already lost my place in the Council. Our political and business partners were abandoning us in droves and I'd barely avoided a Feud with half the Families in Celta City. Any hint that our strength, the very core of our Family, was compromised, would have been the end of us."

"So you let me throw myself on a sword for the Family's reputation. Without even knowing it."

His father's shoulders sagged and he actually looked regretful for a fraction of a second before he pulled his superior mask back on.

"I thought you were strong enough to overcome the deficiency of the Hearthstone. I was wrong."

"You son of a bitch," Draco snarled before another thought stopped him. "What about your precious new heir? What happens when it's his first Passage and you have to unite him with the Hearthstone? You'll have another Null to explain."

"The crack is healing itself. It was much worse before. It should be fine, long before that time." Lucius paused, steepling his fingers and looking mildly dissatisfied, as if someone told him dinner was going to be late. "If not, I'll have to go to someone for help. By then, though, we will have repaired our reputation and our fortunes, so the risk will be minimized."

It shouldn't hurt. Draco already knew exactly what his father thought of him. Knew he was nothing but a pawn. Still, it felt like a knife severing the last strings of his heart to know he wasn't worth it, but the next heir would be.

Something of what he felt must have shown, because Lucius softened and leaned forward. Draco had seen the move a thousand times. Recognized the concerned, let-me-help-you-help-me pose that was completely self-serving.

"Draco, you still have a part to play for the Family…"

"No." His voice was hard and firm, though his stomach shook with the finality of what he was doing.

The soft pose was gone in a flash and Lucius stood to glare down at his son. "Draco, I'm not asking. This is an expectation or—"

"Or what? You'll disown me?" Draco lifted his chin.

"Yes."

"Too late."

That stopped his father and Draco let a bit of a smile shine through the heartache tearing him apart inside.

"What?"

"I broke my ties to the Hearthstone last night. Now, I am formally renouncing all my ties to the Malfoy Family. I am no longer your son. I am no longer your problem."

Lucius let his disdain bleed through with a curl of his lip and a choked laugh.

"What are you going to do? Nameless. Flairless. Are you going to go to Potter? This is what he wanted. To humiliate me. To expose my weakness. He won't want anything to do with you, now. Where will you go when he turns you away?"

"I have no idea. And I don't care as long as it's far from you."

Enough was enough. He had all the answers he was going to get from his father and he'd said what he needed to say.

He stood and picked up the small bag he'd tucked at his feet. Traditionally, disowned were allowed to take a change of clothes and one most prized possession. His bag held one of his new outfits and a sketchbook.

"Goodbye, Lucius."

Draco walked out the door and down the staircase, without glancing back.

His mother stood at the foot of the stairs, looking concerned and confused, one hand resting protectively across her belly.

"Draco? What's going on?"

Draco paused. Perhaps there was one thing left to know.

"Ask father. Ask him about the Hearthstone."

Her skin paled, her eyes darted up to where Lucius stood at the top of the stairs and her second hand came up to cradle the first.

It was all the answer he needed. She'd known, too. There was nothing left for him here.

"Goodbye, Mother."

Draco walked out the front door of the only home he'd ever known and refused to look back.

Chapter Text

Part Four

Harry woke up with a throbbing head and a taste like cold ashes coating his tongue. Despite the protest of pretty much every inch of his body, he forced himself to roll out of bed. Long minutes under the hard, hot spray of the shower had him feeling halfway back to human by the time he stumbled down to the kitchen.

Sirius was already there, a steaming pot of caffe waiting on the breakfast bar for Harry while he busied himself at the stove.

Harry poured a large mug and sank gratefully onto a stool, out of his godfather's way.

"Thank you," he murmured reverently over the cup and he brought it to his lips with a sigh. "You're a life saver."

Sirius chuckled, spooned eggs onto a plate and set it in front of Harry.

"I don't know if I'd go that far. But I've overindulged once or twice and nothing's better than caffeine and protein to get the body up and running again."

Harry dug in and didn't bother to answer, polishing off the plate in record time. Sirius sat quietly until Harry finished eating and started his second mug of caffe. Then he leaned back and gave Harry a serious look.

"So, have you given any thought to your next step?"

Harry shook his head, last night's melancholy trying creep  into the spaces where the hangover had retreated.

"No idea what I'm going to do. Pretty sure I can never go back to Malfoy Manor again. I can hope Draco will come to me, but I can't count on it."

He sighed and set the mug down on the counter, restlessness twisting at him and making him need to move.

"He was so confused and torn up yesterday. I don't want to push him into a corner. But I can't give up on him." He pushed his hands hard into his eyes and whispered, "I just can't."

#

Eventually, Harry left his House, but his restlessness quickly turned his path away from his shop. He couldn't stand the idea of being trapped inside today, even his workroom would feel claustrophobic in the mood he was in. Neville would take care of any customers and Harry didn't have any pressing commissions to work on.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when he found himself in the Preserve. He started on the path to the lake but something tugged at him. Something pulled his attention, and his feet, along a different trail. A trail that led uphill to a little known overlook.

He was halfway up the hill when he first heard the sound. Faint but clear, someone sobbing, as if their heart and soul were broken. The crying wasn't familiar, but the something tugging at Harry was. The soft, elusive flickers of Flair tying him to his Heartmate.

Harry raced the rest of the way stopping only when he caught sight of Draco, huddled on one of the low stone benches, head pressed to his knees and arms wrapped tight around his shins.

The shaking sounds of grief stabbed at Harry and he couldn't think of anything but his Heartmate. He crossed the clearing in the blink of an eye, gathering Draco in his arms, holding him close.

Draco gasp, struggled for a second until he recognized Harry, then collapsed into him, burying his face against Harry's neck and gasping between heavy, body shaking sobs. Harry slid one hand into the soft blond hair and the other stroked up and down Draco's back while he tried with his body and soothing sounds to calm and center his Heartmate.

The story came out in bits of breath and tears. The cracked 'stone. His father's choices. The breaking of the bonds. His fear and terror of being so completely alone and cutoff.

"Draco. You are not alone. I am here. I will be here for you, whenever you need me."

Harry wasn't sure if Draco heard him, lost in the whirlwind of pain and disbelief. He simply hung on, cradling and reassuring his mate.

More than anything, Harry wanted to take Draco home, to Potter House. Wanted to leave the ring out in every room Draco entered until he accepted it.

But that was what Harry needed.

Draco needed to feel safe. Needed to get back on an even keel and figure out who he was and where he was going. Harry knew that from personal experience.

When he'd first returned to his rightful place, he'd immediately wanted to go find his Heartmate. His friends had talked him out of it, told him he had to regain his own sense of self and equilibrium. And they were right.

As much as he wanted to prop Draco up, he knew, in the long run, it wouldn't really make his mate happy.  So he'd have to take a step back and be there to help and support.

He'd still have to wait for Draco to find his way to Harry.

The tears eventually trailed off into a series of hitching hiccups. Harry shifted back to look at Draco and brush the last of the drying tears off of his face.

Draco scowled. "Don't look at me. I'm probably hideous. All blotchy and streaky. And I think I ruined your shirt."  He brushed ineffectively at the damp patch covering Harry's shoulder.

"Not really worried about the clothes. Are you feeling better?"

"Better is relative at this point. Yeah, I think I'm done crying for at least an hour." Draco's lips lifted at the corners, but his gray eyes remained charcoal dark and haunted. "Until I start thinking about where I'm going to sleep or how I'm going to eat."

"Don't worry. I've got a plan for that."

"You do?" Draco looked surprised and hopeful.

"Yeah. I'm taking you to Sirius."

"Sirius… Sirius Black?" Draco repeated slowly, like he was sure he hadn't heard correctly. "He hates me."

"He hates your Family. He doesn't know you." Harry shrugged. "Besides, you're cousins."

"First cousin, once removed," Draco corrected automatically. "Still, my parent's testified against him. Sent him to prison for something my father very likely had a hand in."

Draco swallowed hard and tilted his head down. "For something that cost you your Family."

The reminder of what he'd lost, even all these years later, was always a slice to his soul but Harry didn't have time to dwell on that now.

"It doesn't matter. He'll help you. Trust me."

Harry realized too late he might be asking too much, too soon. Again. Holding his breath, he waited while Draco stared hard into his eyes.

Slowly, Draco nodded and whispered, "Okay."

The knot of fear and doubt around Harry's heart unraveled and he couldn't help the broad, grateful smile that broke across his lips.

"Okay," he repeated. "Let's go."

#

Draco followed several steps behind Harry, pathetic half-empty satchel slung over his shoulder and weighing him down more with regrets than its contents. The Black estate was dark, squat and intimidating. Built like a defensive fort ready to hold off an invasion rather than like the airy, elegant manor homes neighboring it.

He still wasn't sure how he'd let Harry talk him into this. He was sure it was going to end with shouting, threats and more tears. Most likely his tears. Yet, here he was, trudging along behind the Savior, ready to ask sanctuary from a man he'd never met. He'd put his fate in Potter's hands without a second thought and he still had no idea why Harry wanted to help him. Why he'd been interested in Draco to begin with. Or if he was still interested, now that Draco's life had imploded.

Before he knew it, before he could rethink or run away or try to talk Harry out of it, they were at the House and Harry was knocking.

It took a few minutes for the heavy, steel reinforced door to swing open, and instead of a butler or servant, Sirius Black stepped out.

"Harry!" he shouted, tugging his godson into a hug. "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon after our breakfast. Have you come up with a plan—"

Black's voice stopped abruptly when he caught sight of Draco hovering behind Harry. He licked his lips and looked between the two men on his doorstep, obviously choosing his words carefully. Eventually, he seemed to settle on brevity as the best option.

"Harry?"

"It's kind of a long story, Sirius. But Draco needs someplace to stay and you were the first person I thought of."

"Okay," Black drawled the word out several more syllables than it usually had, then stepped aside to wave them in. "Head on back to the kitchen. I'll put on some tea. Always love a good, long story."

Draco settled into a corner of the breakfast nook. Harry helped his godfather with the tea, quietly sharing the details of Draco's sob story. It was a little more succinct and a lot less heart-wrenching that way. Mostly, Draco tried to tune them out, but the kitchen wasn't that big and he couldn't help hearing bits and pieces.

"Why here, Harry? Why not your place?"

Harry mumbled too softly for Draco to catch, who'd been wondering the same thing. A day ago, Harry had been so eager to court Draco, he'd braved Malfoy Manor. Today, he was pawning Draco off on a distant relative. Had Lucius been right, after all? Had Harry's only interest been some kind of revenge against the Malfoy's?

But it didn't explain the pure, sweet concern or the gentle way Harry held him in the park. It didn't explain the hope and need in those emerald eyes when Harry had asked him to trust. Or the relief when Draco had taken the leap of faith.

It didn't explain the way Harry, kept looking at him now, checking every few minutes and offering a reassuring smile.

And when they finally settled down at the table with the finished tea, Harry sat close, so they pressed together at shoulder and knee.

"Sirius, I just thought since you were," Harry paused and winked slyly at Draco. "Since you were first cousins, once removed, you might let him crash here for awhile."

Black leaned back in his own chair, fingers tapping against the ceramic of his mug. Draco was sure he was trying to find a nice way of telling Harry he was out of his mind.

So it surprised Draco when Black leaned forward and smiled at him. "All right. It'll be good to have company in the House, again."

#

Draco sat outside in the overgrown garden, trying to captures its wild, untamed beauty with his pastels but his mind kept wandering. Lately, it seemed to have only one track. And that track always led back to Harry Potter.

Two weeks at Black House and Draco was more confused than ever by Potter's mixed messages. He visited every day. Coming by after he finished at his shop each evening for dinner. Some days even ducking out early or playing hooky all together to spend time with Draco.

He flirted, shamelessly, touching Draco's shoulder, his hand, his face. Harry brought him food from his favorite restaurants, though carefully couched as gifts to the House, as if he's still playing by the antiquated courting rules. He'd even tried, once or twice, to take Draco out on the town, to a play or a gallery opening. Draco had declined though. He'd read the paper, seen the society column having a field day with his situation.

Lucius had taken the first shot, spreading the suggestion that he had disowned Draco. Greengrass, furious at being thwarted, took every opportunity to smear Draco's name with lies and speculation. He wasn't ready to face the scrutiny or the snickers of Celta City society yet.

Despite, Harry's attentiveness, holding Draco's hand and standing to close on their nightly walks around the Black estate and a chaste kiss or two was the most physical they had gotten. Every night, Potter said goodnight and went back to his own House to sleep.

Draco hadn't paid much attention in etiquette class, but he knew even the most traditional members of society tried to sneak a little more affectionate alone time while courting.

All in all, it left him very confused.

Focusing on Potter, though, was easier than focusing on everything else confusing in his life.

His worst fears had been realized. He was Nameless. He had no home or Family or future.

It hurt, but it was also a relief. He'd finally started thinking in terms of Draco instead of terms of Malfoy. His art would never have Flair, but Sirius had pointed out the multitude of opportunities for everyday artists. There was always a need for cartoons, advertising, illustrations, even greeting cards. While he wouldn't be the celebrated, trend-setting artist he'd once imagined himself, it looked like he'd might be able to make a living at something he enjoyed doing.

Sirius himself had been the biggest surprise of all. The first couple days had been tense while they tried to live together without getting in each other's way. Both ridiculously relieved when Harry showed up to act as a buffer.

Somewhere around day three, though, that began to change. Cautious pleasantries gave way to actual conversations and they discovered they had more in common than they would have thought.

Most notably, they both had batshit parents who'd put Family and pride ahead of their children's well-being.

"One of these days, I'm going to have to get around to cleaning this up."

Draco twisted to see Sirius behind him, holding two mugs of tea and staring at the wild chaos that was once a perfectly manicured garden.

"I don't know," Draco smirked and he took one cup from Sirius. "It has a certain untamed charm that reflects the current Head of the Black Family."

"Funny," Sirius said, without a trace of smile then sat down on the splintered bench next to Draco. "That was something I wanted to talk to you about, however."

"The garden?"

"The Black Family." Sirius took a deep breath, dark eyes full of intensity. "Specifically, you being part of it."

"Excuse me?" The words were barely a whisper on Draco's lips, fear lancing through him.  

But Sirius was talking over him, in fast patter like he was trying to figure out how to make the words say what he wanted them to.

"Technically, you already are. When you broke ties with the Malfoys, you became Draco Black. Of course, you're welcome to use the name."

Draco let out a little rush of air in relief. He hadn't really thought Sirius was about to disown him, too, but he had no idea where else this conversation could be going.

"Actually, unless I have kids, you're my Heir." Draco blinked in surprise. He'd known, of course, but always assumed Sirius would either have an Heir of his own or sever ties to Draco and name a new one.

"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, you're Family as far as I'm concerned and you're welcome at Black House for as long as you want to stay. It's time this place had more than me haunting its halls. Time to start thinking about Family again. Your grandparents disowned Andromeda after she married Remus, but I'm going to invite her back. There are some other distant relatives, as well, that I'm going to track down. We'll be quite the clan of misfits, but I think the FirstFamilies need a little shaking up every now and then."

"Not Bellatrix?" Draco couldn't help asking and they both shuddered at the thought of her particular brand of insanity.

"No. Definitely not Bella. I doubt they're ever going to let her out of St. Mungo's anyway. But I've sort of gotten off topic here. What I wanted to suggest… to ask… I'd like it if you'd let me connect you to the Black Hearthstone."

Tears sprang to Draco's eyes and he choked on the mass of emotions and words clogging his throat.

Black winced at his reaction and kept talking. "I know it won't change what happened in your Passage, but it might help even out the Flair you have. The stability of the connection might let you access what you have left more easily."

Still unable to talk, Draco flung himself at Sirius, wrapping his arms around broad shoulders and holding on for dear life.

Sirius patted his back awkwardly. Neither of them were particularly demonstrative and this physical affection didn't come easy.

Eventually, Draco managed to choke out a few words. "Yes, I'd like that. Please."

 Draco's biggest fear had been living without Family, but he was beginning to realize the Malfoy definition of the word wasn't the only one.  Wasn't even the best one. This created Family of people he'd started to surround himself with was infinitely better.

"Grab your stuff and let's go introduce you to the heart of the Black Family." Sirius patted him one last time and stood up. Draco eagerly packed up his sketchbook and pastels and followed his new Head of House inside.

#

Harry sat at his work table, trying to concentrate on creating the pendant he'd been commissioned for. But, as usual lately, his thoughts drifted to Draco. He was so close to having everything he ever wanted. So close to claiming his Heartmate. He knew the right thing to do for Draco was to let him find his own way, right now. To get back up and stand on his own two feet.

Harry didn't want to be chosen by his mate because Draco thought it was the only option he had. So he did his best to back off, to keep things from going so far he wouldn't be able to remember why it was a bad idea. It was made more difficult because he could feel Draco straining toward him, echoing his own need to connect.

Trying to tear himself out of the spiral of useless thoughts, Harry refocused on the piece in his hand. But the silver strands of wire only reminded him of the platinum ring, once again resting lonely and ignored on its velvet pillow in the shop's showroom.

"Damn it!" Harry growled, pent-up frustration pouring out in a rush. With an angry heave, he tossed the pendant across the room.

Ginny ducked as the piece sailed over her head and crashed into the wall behind her.

Harry stared at the redhead uncomprehendingly for a minute. "Where did you come from?"

"I walked through the door from the shop." She laughed and scooped up the pendant off the floor. "You were too busy damning this little trinket to notice me."

She dropped the half-finished silver piece on the table in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" He scowled at her and started straightening out the wires that had bent where they'd connected with the wall.

"Well, nice to see you too. I've missed you're sunny disposition around the Burrow lately. I'm here to drop of the latest vital information for the best man. Of course, it will all change again next week. Who knew Hermione would be such a bridezilla?"

Ginny hitched one hip on his worktable and tilted her head.

"Temper tantrums aren't usually your style. I take it things aren't going well with Draco?"

He snarled at the reminder then jerked his head. "How, who…"

"Right, like Ron can keep a secret from Hermione. And she needs someone to gossip with, since she'd never betray your confidence outside of the Family."

Harry sighed and leaned back in the chair. He'd resigned himself a long time ago that being treated like family with the Weasleys meant being treated like family. All the good and all the frustrating.

Molly's warm, gracious mothering came with nosy siblings. Arthur's calm, quiet support came with all the pranks and twisted humor.

"Things with Draco are going slow. By choice."

"Yours or his?"

Harry frowned at the question. Or maybe at the sharp way she asked it.

"Mine, of course. He's been through a lot, the past few weeks. In part because I pushed so hard. It's better if I back off for while."

She stood up and faced him head on, her hands on her hips. "Let me get this straight. You went courting hard-core, got him caught up in the whole disowning mess and then completely backed off? Left him wondering if you're even interested anymore?"

Harry winced at the way she'd made it sound. Was that how Draco saw it? Did he think Harry had changed his mind?

"Harry, am I right?"

"It's more complicated than that," he mumbled, ducking his head. "But, yeah, I guess maybe."

Ginny clenched her teeth and muttered, "Men who think they know what's best for everyone are so frustrating."

"Ginny?"

She huffed a breath and her hands slid off her hips to cross under her breasts. "Not important. What's important is that maybe Draco would like to know where he stands with you. Maybe knowing that will make it easier to figure out the rest."

"I can't," he said, spreading his hands helplessly.

"Oh, not the Heartmate stuff. Just, talk to him. Tell him you're still interested, but you want to give him space or whatever. He doesn't have a whole lot of control over anything right now. Actually, probably hasn't for a while. Give him the choice. Let him know that even if his Family doesn't want him, someone does."

Harry winced, thinking of the details Draco had let slip about his life over the last few years. Lack of choice was understatement.

The slice of guilt twisted deep.

She was right. Harry would have to talk to him. Tonight. Lay his heart on the line. As much as he was allowed to anyway.

And hope he hadn't completely screwed up. Again.

#

Draco followed Sirius down the stairs and into the Hearthroom, so nervous and excited his sketchbook shook where he clutched it tight in his fingers.

The room was familiar yet alien. Like the Malfoy Hearthroom, it was a rough square chamber carved out of the bedrock. Low benches lined the walls and a huge, glowing crystal dominated the center. Blue and purple light pulsed inside the Hearthstone with a bright and welcoming light. The room itself felt cozy, content and accepting. There was none of the malevolence and darkness that now oozed from the Malfoy 'stone.

Even Draco's infinitesimal Flair responded, trying hard to flicker to life in the pure light. Setting his sketch stuff on one of the benches, Draco walked in a full circle around the crystal, examining every inch. There was no sign of the damage that had once scarred it.

"Harry did a good job, huh? I think it's in even better shape now than it was before it cracked," Sirius said, stepping up to stand beside Draco and resting one hand affectionately on his shoulder. Then Sirius tilted a solemn look at him. "Are you ready?"

Draco swallowed hard. The last time he'd tried to connect with a Hearthstone, he hadn't even been in the same room with it and it had caused him so much pain, he'd been unconscious for three days. Then he'd woken up a freak.

This was different though. This would give him something back that he'd thought he'd have to give up forever. Family.

Draco squared his shoulders, met Sirius's eyes and nodded tightly.

His new Head of House smiled broadly and stretched out his hand, fingers spread, to press against the smooth surface of the 'stone. Ancient words tumbled out of his lips, fast and quiet, but Draco couldn't follow the sound.

The buzz started in his head immediately. Warmth trickled through him, spreading everywhere. It wrapped around him, holding him close and connecting him to the pulsing stone.

The welcoming, electric joy wound through him, filling him up from the outside-in. When it reached his heart, Draco gasped and dropped to his knees.

Something that had been bound and shadowed in him broke free and gloried in the wave of welcoming light from the Hearthstone.

Flair flickered along his skin, leaving the hair standing on end in its wake. An outward manifestation of energy and creativity and psi coming to life inside of him. Igniting from a dying ember to a warm blaze.

"Draco?"

Sirius had knelt down next to where Draco had collapsed on the floor and concern tightened the lines of his face and fear ran through his voice.

"'M okay," Draco managed to pant out. Holding up his hands, he stared in surprise at the sparks tumbling over his fingers. "Flair?"

His Flair had never felt this strong in him. This free. He swallowed against the hope fighting its way to the surface and looked at Sirius, trying to put everything he had into the question, "Passage?"

Eyes wide and mouth dropped open, Sirius nodded slowly, as surprised as Draco that this was happening here, now.

All rational thought departed when the Flair inside of him condensed into a tight ball at his center. Then it spiraled out, sliding into the 'stone and anchoring him in the Heart of the Family. It spread farther, slipping through the room and tying him to Sirius and the Family that he embodied.

Then it expanded, stretching beyond the Hearthroom, beyond Black House. Spiraling ever outward, searching, seeking. Until a familiar presence enveloped Draco in affection and need. Love.

Harry.

"Sketchbook," he managed to gasp, reaching for the supplies he'd left on the bench.

Sirius, bless him, understood and pressed the paper and chalks into his hands quickly.

His fingers flew, Flair directing the colors and lines, penetrating and soaking the paper and image with an indelible feel of Draco and Harry and connection.

When he was done, the power retreated, no longer bound and dying, but banked and ready to be called on. Draco slumped, head down and gasping for breath. He kept the sketch held tight in his grasp, however.

"Eh, Draco, that was unexpected." Sirius had stayed by his side the entire time, though he'd done his best to stay out of his way while making sure Draco was going to be okay. Now, he carefully curled a hand around Draco's arm and helped him unsteadily to his feet. "How 'bout we get you to bed, huh?"

"No." Draco shook his head starkly and pulled back, forcing himself to control the sway of his body.

"Draco, you're exhausted. What you've been through…"

"Harry." He gripped the sketched tight against his heart. "Need to see Harry."

Sirius's eyes widened in understanding. "Yes. I suppose you do. All right, but lean on me. I'll get you there."

#

The conversation with Ginny left Harry even more frustrated and distracted. He wanted to forget work and the shop and the mess of silver wire in his hands. Wanted to go directly to Draco. Make sure he understood what Harry was doing. Harry knew Sirius had intended to offer Draco a full place in the Black Family today, though, and he wouldn't interrupt that. It was too important to his Heartmate to give it anything but full respect.

The quiet hum of conversation from the showroom grated on his nerves, distracting him from trying to find the words he'd need when he faced Draco again. Neville had been giving the Patil sisters a tour of the show room for nearly half an hour. So far, they'd found something wrong with every single piece. They had, however, managed to slip in a few highly inappropriate questions about Draco, Sirius and Harry. It hadn't taken long after Lucius Malfoy's announcement for the gossip mongers to ferret out Draco was staying at Black House. Or that Harry was still a regular visitor.

No one, though could understand why, and the speculation became more outrageous every day.

So the worst of the gossips had taken to coming by the shop in search of a crumb of detail. Harry was ready to get up and shout at them to get out. Tell them that he'd never sell them a single piece of his work.

Before he could, though, the bell clanged again and shivers of awareness rushed across his skin. Cool whispers spiked with Flair drew him to his feet and out into the shop.

 The showroom went quiet, Neville and the twins gaping at the new arrivals. Sirius had one arm around Draco, who leaned heavily against the older man, clutching a carefully rolled piece of paper. Concern immediately replaced irritation. Considering the situation with Lucius Malfoy and Greengrass, had someone hurt Draco? Or had something happened with the Black Hearthstone? The Hearthstone Harry had repaired…

As soon as Draco saw Harry, though, he straightened up and pushed away, stomping across the room.

"Where is it?"

Now, with his Heartmate standing right in front of him, Harry realized the crackle of Flair he'd been feeling wasn't just his own. For the first time, Draco's flicker of Flair had become a full-fledged burn that reached for him.

"Draco, your Flair… you've—"

"Later." Draco reached up, slid his fingers along Harry's cheek, eyes bright and voice hopeful. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Harry asked in confusion, trying to sort out all the unexpected turbulence of the past few moments.

But Draco's eyes searched beyond him, locking onto something. He gave one last caress and said, "Never mind, I know, now."

His smile was wide and dreamy when he moved by Harry toward the counter and the…

The ring.

Draco was heading straight for Harry's Heartgift. For a moment, Harry's heart froze, then slammed back to life echoing the fast-paced please, please, please hammering silently against his lips.

Draco carefully set the paper he'd been holding on the counter next to the pillow. Then his trembling hand stretched out over the platinum and tearstone ring.

Harry remained rooted to the spot, afraid that any movement, any breath or word would destroy the moment. That the sight of his heart's greatest desire would evaporate like a thousand fantasies he'd had of this very moment. Or like the last time Draco had been this close to his Heartgift.

The pale fingers shook slightly when they closed over metal and he lifted it off the velvet to hold it up at eye level.

"It's beautiful," he whispered, barely more than a breath. Then he turned, gray eyes locked tight on Harry. He gripped the ring with delicate fingers and slid it onto his hand.

"Freely given. Freely accepted." The words were ancient and powerful and the room filled with the warmth of spreading Flair.

Harry's breath stuttered out of him and he took a step forward, body moving before his brain could truly comprehend the momentousness of what was happening. He didn't stop moving until he was right in front of his Heartmate, so close their clothing brushed together.

"Draco."

The surprise of the moment and the Flair in the room subsided enough that Harry could feel a tug at his consciousness. A need to look at the paper Draco had left next to the now empty pillow. An overwhelming compulsion to see it.

Not moving away from Draco, Harry slid his arm past his Heartmate's shoulder and gripped the stiff parchment with the tips of his fingers, pulling it close.

Even before he saw the sketch, a breathtaking image of the spot by the overlook where Harry had found Draco in the park, he felt the raw power.

The Flair, so completely, undeniably Draco enveloped him. Wrapped him in the perfect feeling of love, trust, hope, need. Connected them on every level he could conceive.

"Freely given," he managed to choke past the knot of emotion in his throat. "Freely accepted."

Then Draco's hands grabbed him by the shoulders and he slid his own around Draco's waist. Their mouths brushed, a feather-light breath that lasted a heartbeat. Then they were pushing in, wrapping around, sliding together until they nearly became one. The kiss was hot and sweet. Needy and generous. Filled with everything he'd been holding back for weeks. For a lifetime. Between kisses, Draco explained about the Hearthstone and Passage. Harry stuttered out how hard it had been to hold back and how sorry he was that he had.

When the kisses finally slowed, Harry remembered they were in the center of his shop.

But the show room was empty, the lights dimmed and the closed sign faced the street.

He should have known Neville and Sirius would protect their privacy.

Harry rested his forehead against Draco's. Ribbons of Flair continued to wrap around them pulling them tighter and tighter, binding them together with magic and emotion.

They were so close, their lips brushed when Draco whispered, "Heartmate."

"Yes. Heartmate." Harry's fingers flexed on Draco, drawing him an inch or two closer.  "Come home. Let me you show my House. Our House."

Draco's mouth curved against Harry's. "Our House. Our home. I like the sound of that. Let's go."

Hands linked, Harry led his Heartmate out the back. They were taking the first steps not just to their home, but the first steps to the life they would share. And to the Family they would rebuild together.