55Chapter 40: R 6: A Harry Situation
Rape, part six: A Harry Situation
A loud blast sounded through the room, a flash of blinding white light erupted from a transparent disc hovering in mid-air, and Timothy appeared, red-faced and urgent. "They've got him!" he panted, hurrying out in front of Harry and Draco with his back to the Death Eaters, not seeing them and therefore oblivious of what was happening right there in that instance. "I was checking up on James to make sure that there weren't any dire breaches caused by his presence in the Dark Plane, but he wasn't there! I questioned Bond about it, and—"
He fell silent when he saw the dark looks on their faces. His brows furrowed. "What? What's wrong? What are you looking at?" And so he slowly turned around to see what was demanding their attention. Instead of starting at the sight of Piper in the grasp of the enemy, he simply blinked twice in understanding. "Oh. I see that you already know. Good."
"Good?!" Draco yelled, and made to lash out at the blond boy. "Good?! Are you out of your bloody mind again?! How can any of this be good!?"
Harry held him back. He did not want to provoke the Death Eaters, because he was afraid that their luck was finally running out on them.
Timothy gave the blonde an incredulous look as if to tell him that he was stupid not to see it.
Harry did not understand what was so good about their situation, either, but if Timothy thought that they had a chance, he was prepared to believe him. Having the Time Manipulator on their side was a great advantage, seeing as the Death Eaters had no idea who he was or what he was capable of.
"Stand back!" the Death Eater holding Piper warned, his nostrils flaring as he grunted threateningly. There was no mistaking the fact that this was a madman, and there was absolutely no guarantee that he would actually spare the others if Harry consented to the Dark Lord's demand. Still … if there was any chance—no matter how slim—that he could save Draco and their children …
"I'll do it," he said with cold determination, desperately trying to mask the high-concentrated, stark fear that was being pumped through his veins by his pounding heart. The level of anxiety that he was experiencing was so acute that he could actually see his soul partly leaving his body, as if he was standing three feet behind himself; a stranger watching a psychologically nerve-thrilling, hair-raising scene in a scary movie. He was so uptight that if anyone were to touch him the slightest, he would spring at them, instinctively flinging himself out of his own skin.
It was a horrifying sensation, but he nevertheless thrived on it. He hoped that the adrenaline rush would help him do whatever he needed to do to save James once he got to the Dark Lord's lair.
Draco stumbled on air and fell to the floor next to him. Immediately springing back up, he grabbed hold of the sleeve of Harry's robes. "Excuse me?! I thought you just said you'd do it," he panted, hollow-eyed.
The cold determination in him did not shift. "I did."
The blonde jerked backwards from him. "What?" His face turned paler than pale; the healthy flush of anger left his features altogether and left only a ghost of indignation behind. "But you can't—"
A dull sadness came over him. "I have to, Dracums. I have to—or they'll kill James."
Draco grabbed the collar of his robes and pulled him closer to him, his beautiful face contorted by fear and grief. "But they'll only kill you instead!" he objected hysterically. "You can't go! You can't! I won't be able to live without you, I won't—"
A pathetic meowl escaped him and tears started to stream down his smooth cheeks. He put his right hand in his mouth, biting down hard on it, but he was unable to stop himself from sobbing.
His heart breaking, Harry embraced the blonde and held him so tight it must have hurt his lover. "Oh, Dracums … I am so sorry, so sorry … I wish I didn't have to do this. I wish with all my heart that I didn't have to hurt you again, or put you at the risk of losing your husband, but I really have no choice. I have to do this. How else are we ever going to be a happy family? We're missing a member. And despite everything … I'm not willing to lose him just yet."
Draco snivelled into his robes. "I-I guess you're right …" Straightening up, he forced himself to take on a more stoic, brave face. "I don't want to lose him, either. Go. Go and get him back. T-trade with them …"
For a brief, twisted moment that seemed to be the sealing of his death, Harry's lips cracked open in a crazed smile and he pressed a hard, desperate kiss on Draco's lips. He knew that it was probably the last time he would see his lover in this life, so he took great care in caressing his cheek tenderly as he looked deep into those magical, silvery orbs that had transfixed him so many years ago. "I love you, Draco."
Draco defiantly turned his face away from him. "No …" he whispered, understanding all too well that the declaration was also a farewell.
Harry turned to the waiting Death Eaters with a resolute expression. "Take me, then. But don't harm Piper. And if you so much as touch one hair on our son's head …"
He could sense the evil grins that were now hiding behind the Death Eater masks. "Brilliant," the big one holding Piper growled. "His Lordship will be delighted."
Harry's heart skipped a beat. It felt almost as if a cold hand was squeezing his heart tightly inside his chest.
This was it. This was the end. So many years spent trying to prevent evil from taking over the world … and this was how it would all end. They would—
"Wait just one minute," Timothy suddenly said, holding out his hand in front of himself. "There is one thing I need to do before I can allow you to leave, Harry."
Everyone's attention was turned to the Time Manipulator.
With a sweeping motion of his hand, Timothy turned the Death Eaters into statues; at a stand-still, they looked like mere replicas of human beings. Satisfied with the result, he turned to Harry and the ever-paler Draco, slowly brushing the palms of his hands together as if trying to rid himself of the leftover crumbs of a sandwich. "There. Now we can talk privately."
Draco blinked sheepishly at the frozen Death Eaters and, shaking badly, dared a step closer to them. "What did you do to them?" he wondered weakly.
Timothy shrugged. "Stopped time temporarily."
Harry frowned. "Stopped time? But then, shouldn't we—?"
"No. I stopped time for everyone but us," Timothy explained. "The world is at a stand-still so you can clone Harry and fool the Death Eaters by sending one of the clones along in his stead."
So they were not statues, then …
The blond boy's words required a moment to sink in.
The spouses exchanged a look of utter bewilderment. What on Earth could he mean? There seemed to be no logic whatsoever to his statement. Clone Harry? As if that was possible! Humans had tried to clone people for years and years, but they had yet to succeed before their macabre dream was fulfilled. So how …?
"The Power Enhancement Spell!" Piper suddenly exclaimed, proving that she, too, had been spared the momentary pause that the rest of the world was currently forced to take.
They jerked at the sound of her shrill outcry.
Timothy merely grinned shrewdly.
"What?" Harry queried, not understanding what she was talking about.
"My Power Enhancement Spell!" she cried, still firmly in the grasp of the huge Death Eater. "Don't you remember? It was driving Draco mad 'cos it multiplied me instead of multiplying my powers as was the original idea! Don't you understand? If we use the Power Enhancement Spell on Harry, all the different aspects of his personality will emerge in bodies of their own! He will be cloned!"
Draco started. "That's perfect!" he said, and suddenly laughed happily. Once again hopeful, he wiped away the tears that had half dried on his face and smiled broadly. "Then Harry won't have to go himself—he won't die! Oh, this is brilliant!"
Harry, too, began to smile when he saw the happiness on his husband's face. "All right. Let's do it, then."
Piper told Draco what to chant since she could not do it herself, tied up as she was. Her brother nodded solemnly and raised his wand at Harry. In a sombre voice, he said, "Ancient guardians hear my words, bring Harry the power to save the world!"
The charm was so corny that Harry's stomach turned—or was it the spell that did it?—and made him nauseous. In an instant, there was not one Harry, but … twenty? Thirty? It was impossible to tell; there just seemed to be too many of him now. And they all looked exactly the same—except for the expressions on their faces and their postures. The way they carried themselves seemed to indicate their personalities—or, rather, what part of his personality they represented.
"How are we ever to tell them apart?!" he wondered aloud, nonplussed.
Piper snorted. "Coming from the one who's been cloned," she muttered. "Shouldn't you know what moods you have, Harry-boy? Shouldn't you know what you're carrying around with you every day?"
He blinked at her in bewilderment. "No! I don't know what I am, what I do … How could I? I can't see myself like others can …"
Draco took a step forward. "But I do," he said firmly. "I know Harry inside and out. I know him better than I know anyone else, even better than I know myself. I can tell them apart. Just give me a minute."
He spent five minutes walking around among them, listening to their conversations with one another, closely and intimately inspecting their facial expressions and body language, and sometimes interacting with them himself. When he was satisfied that he knew who was who, he stepped back out to the others, whom were waiting impatiently for his verdict.
"There are thirty-one of them," he informed Harry, Piper, and Timothy with indifference, "and most of them will be of no use to us at all in this operation, but there are a few who can contribute quite a lot."
He cleared his throat ceremoniously and clapped his hands together.
Three of the clones stepped forward into the spotlight.
Draco made a sweeping motion towards the first of them. That Harry's features betrayed a dangerous boldness and a confidence that was almost disgusting. His arms were defiantly crossed over his chest, and he regarded them all with eyes so piercing that it sent shivers down Harry's spine. Judging by his appearance, he was studying them all meticulously, as if trying to determine whether they measured up to his expectations or not. As if proving Harry's unspoken point, the clone shook his head in resignation and snorted to himself with amusement.
"This is your bravery, Harry," Draco announced.
Harry raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "My bravery?" he echoed. "Yeah, right!"
"Yeah, right!" another one of the clones expelled simultaneously.
They all turned to him in puzzlement.
Draco sighed, but chuckled darkly to himself. "And that would be your arrogance," he said with a note of amusement. "The one over there represents all your stupid remarks, your sarcasm, your need to mock others … you name it. But he is not an integral part of your persona, baby; trust me. Now, to get back to your courageous self—"
"Spare me the corny introduction, Dracums," the clone interrupted him. "I'll introduce myself. I'm Daring."
"Daring?" They mulled the name over.
"Yeah, we named all of Piper's clones, didn't we? To tell them apart. And we also provided them with different sets of clothing, but I honestly don't think that'll be necessary in this case. The differences between us are far more complex than the differences between Piper's selves could ever be. In fact, there are no differences between her selves, that's why the colour coding was essential to tell them apart. With us, you just need to take a close look at our faces or study our behaviour to know who we are. I'm Daring, 'cos I'm Harry's mindless bravery. I don't think, I don't fear, and I certainly don't hesitate. I'm simply bold."
Draco fired off a beaming smile and gave Daring Harry a great thump on the back. "There you go! Good presentation, laddie! You're going with the Death Eaters. With that confidence, you cannot fail! Hahahaha!"
Daring snorted. "Of course not. I never fail. I'm invincible."
"Right. Next here, we have two interesting clones that I think can help us out quite a deal. This is your intelligence and your scheming ability, so I think it's only fair if we call them Intelligent and Scheming Harry respectively. Scheming can plan everything and Intelligent can tell us whether the plans are possible to carry out or not. That way, we'll have a better chance of winning this battle."
"Um … you're really getting fired up over this, Dracums," Harry pointed out uneasily, and swallowed hard. Something told him that this was a little bit too easy …
"What about the others?" Timothy cut in.
"Oh, they can probably make themselves useful somehow," Draco ensured them. "Er … at least some of them, anyway …"
"What's that supposed to mean, exactly?" Harry asked, not sure that he actually wanted to know the answer.
"Well, to put it this way … One of them is Harry's abandonment—all those repressed feelings that he has about his parents' death—and another one is the self-hatred that he's trying to conquer through his therapy … One is his anger, one his greed for attention, and yet another represents his very deeply suppressed paranoia."
"What?!"
"Er, yeah … Shall we get going, then?"
Harry knew that the blonde was only trying to fend off an outburst, for everybody's sake, but he could not help but getting pissed at him anyway. When all of this was over, he would give Draco a good thrashing. At the moment, though, he needed to stay focused and contain his anger, or they would all be doomed. Probably many times over, even.
Fingers twitching, itching to hit something, pull some hair or destroy something fragile and hear glass breaking into a million tiny smithereens, he started to pace the floor between the Death Eaters and all the clones that looked so freakishly like him. It was scaring him half to death, seeing his own face on so many people. It made him uncertain of who he was and of his own substantiality. When he looked up and saw all those faces staring back at him with his own eyes, his heart skipped a beat and immediately began to pound with the irrational fear that he may not be the real one, but in fact one of the clones, dementedly believing himself to be Harry Potter-Malfoy.
"Harry?"
He could not hear his husband's voice at first, but when the blonde had repeated his name a few times he became aware of his surroundings again and turned his attention outwards.
Draco was watching him with worried silver eyes. "Are you all right?"
He stood silent for a couple of seconds. "Yeah," he then said, not very convincingly. "I'm all right. It's just a bit freaky being split like this … But no mind. Let's just get this operation going already. I want my boy back."
"Yeah, and I would like to be released before I pee my pants, please," Piper added acidly.
"Shut up," Draco warned.
Without further ado, Scheming Harry took control of the situation and began to devise a plan that would enable them to safely get inside Pywercaseley's lair and secure James before the Dark Lord could set off a chain of events that would bring about Tom's birth and ultimate demise. Because that was what they all feared; that being in the presence of Pywercaseley and the Death Eaters would further inspire the boy's already too keen interest in the Dark Arts and seal his fate.
The memory that Tom had showed them replayed in Harry's mind and made him shudder. The mere thought of James—his son—being raped by that monster … of forcing the poor lad to carry the Dark Lord's spawn …
"We have to get him out of there," he said with gritted teeth, his voice thick with emotion and his eyes stubbornly watering. His entire body was shaking with rage.
How dare that deranged bastard do something like that?!
Draco put a comforting hand on his arm, probably sensing what was going through his mind and letting him know that he was right there with him, but in Harry's current, on-edge state, the touch made him flinch. The blonde did not shy away, though, or take offense; he simply allowed his husband to take a few deeps breaths before he once more reached out to him. "We will," he assured him. "We will not let that happen. They'd have to kill me before I let that happen."
For some reason, Draco's words stabbed him with a new fear that he could not quite identify, and he had the feeling that they were somehow portentous. But before he could investigate it further, Scheming Harry spoke up: "Intelligent Harry and I have formulated an undetectable tracking spell that will allow us to follow in Daring's tracks when he goes with the Death Eaters. Without them knowing it, they'll lead us straight to James. Once we've confirmed where they are, we'll send a group of clones—"
"And me," Draco immediately cut in.
"No, you're staying right here where it's safe," Harry objected, unconsciously putting his hand on the blonde's stomach protectively.
Draco swung around at him. "I—am—going!" he spat out between gritted teeth, and it was clear that his motherly instinct to protect his child was making him slightly insane.
Knowing better than to pick a fight with him when he was in that mood, Harry held up his hands in a disarming gesture. "Okay, okay, we'll go with the clones!"
"Well, now that that has been settled," Scheming said, obviously displeased with the interruption, "let's get this show on the road, all right?"
Harry promptly herded his clones into the kitchen and shrouded them all in the Advanced Silencing Spell, lest any of them make an inadvertent sound loud enough for the Death Eaters to hear in the other room.
As the only Harry left in the parlour, Daring stepped right up to Draco and gave him an assessing once-over. Frowning, he shook his head and said, "Boy am I glad I'm not the real Harry."
The blonde jerked visibly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Daring sneered. "Only that I'd hate having to be seen with you, seen as your husband, with you in that state … It's just sad, how you've let yourself go; this doesn't become you."
Draco opened and closed his mouth several times, obviously lost for words, before finally whispering, "Are you saying that … that this is what Harry thinks?" Tears were forming in his eyes, and he angrily tried to swat them away—to no avail. "This is what Harry really thinks of me?"
As the tears stubbornly streamed down his indignantly flushed cheeks, Daring let out a darkly amused chuckle and slapped his hand down on Draco's shoulder. "Sorry, Dracums, but you were crying when Timmy here froze time. I needed to make you cry again so they won't get suspicious. No hard feelings, 'kay?"
Draco was completely taken aback. "What? But … but how can you just say something like that?"
The clone simply shrugged nonchalantly. "I have no fear of consequences, remember?" Then he turned to face the Death Eaters and nodded at Timothy. "Release them and let's get this over with already," he ordered.
The Time Manipulator nodded solemnly and closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them again, it was as if nothing had passed since he proclaimed that there was something he had to do before allowing the Death Eaters to take Harry away. Silence ruled over the parlour for five seconds or so before the brute holding Piper fast lost his patience. "Well?" he demanded. "Get on with it, then, so we can leave!"
Timothy made an almost comical bow at Daring and stage-whispered, "Good luck, Harry—it was nice knowing you."
Everyone else in the room blinked sheepishly at the blond boy; even the giant Death Eater temporarily lost his bearings. It was so silent Draco imagined he could hear the clones scuffling around in the kitchen, as if Timothy's unexpected comment had somehow created a silence so heavy that it counteracted Harry's spell. Then the boy's words suddenly sank in and a burning hot fury sprang up from deep inside of him. Lashing out at his son, he cried, "'It was nice knowing you?' Is that any way to say goodbye to your father?! You ungrateful, snotty brat!"
Sadly, Daring grabbed hold of him and held him back, destroying his vision of teaching their son some manners.
The big Death Eater gave a start. "'Father,' you say? This your kid, too? Maybe we should take 'im with us, too? The Dark Lord'd be thrilled to 'ave two of Harry Potter's bastards …"
"As much as I would love that," Timothy said, "I think that's my cue. You got this, guys!" was his last words, delivered with two exaggerated thumbs up right before he vanished through another time portal.
While the Death Eaters were still mystified by the Time Manipulator's sudden appearance and disappearance, Daring took the opportunity to sweep Draco into his arms and press a too-hard, brief kiss on his lips. Then he withdrew and winked at him, grinning self-righteously. "Don't wait up," he said, stepping backwards into the midst of the Death Eaters and brusquely pushing Piper aside, taking her place among the enemy.
The next second, they had all Disapparated, leaving the Malfoy siblings staring after them incredulously.
Draco demonstratively wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his robes. Fuming, he muttered, "Should've bloody named him Snotty-Potty."
The world was completely black around him, and for a moment he panicked before realising that his eyes were closed. Forcing them open with some effort, he was met with a blurry jumble of earthy colours. Blinked several times. As his vision slowly cleared, he grew aware of the skewed perspective he had—the furniture seemed to be sticking out of the wall that he was pressed up against—but eventually he recognised that he was actually lying down, his right cheek hard against a cold marble floor.
Where the Hell am I?
Attempting to raise himself up into a sitting position, the muscles in his entire body suddenly screamed in agonising protest, as if they had been immobile for a century and were now forced back into action.
Stupefied. I must've been stupefied again. But why? And by whom?
Ultimately, he managed to sit up, experimentally flexing his fingers and rolling his stiff shoulders. The room that he was in was unknown to him, but it was clear that it belonged in a mansion rather than a regular house. Expensive, centuries-old furniture kept in pristine condition towered all around him, and the walls were adorned by old paintings and tapestries of the most beautiful artistry. It sort of reminded him of the Manor—yet was not at all like it. No, the atmosphere was different … colder.
Movement in his right periphery caught his attention. On high alert, he spun around, instinctively reaching for his wand but finding the trouser pocket empty.
"Looking for this?"
A black-clad man standing some twelve feet from him, just inside an archway that seemed to lead to a deserted corridor, held up his wand in front of him, self-satisfactorily demonstrating his power over him. Smiling arrogantly, he put the wand in an inside pocket of his cloak. "Glad to finally have you with us, James," the man said, advancing a couple of steps.
James staggered up to his feet. "Where am I?" He glanced around the room again. "Where's Uncle Voldemort?"
The man kept advancing on him—slowly, slowly—thoroughly enjoying being in control of the situation, that disgustingly arrogant and condescending smile on his face growing ever broader. "You are back in your own world now, boy, and no adopted uncle from a parallel dimension is going to save you," he stated. "Not even your own fathers can save you now—although one of them will be brought to me shortly as exchange for your release."
James frowned. "What do you mean?"
Yet another small step closer. And another. "Come now, you must have realised who I am, so you must also grasp what it is I want." He raised his right hand slightly, revealing that he was holding his own wand at the ready, should trouble arise. "I've had you captured to lure out your father. There is no way the brave and loyal Harry Potter won't come for his dear son, and the moment he does … I will have his head."
Not keen on being imprisoned again, James immediately lashed out at the man—evidently the Dark Lord himself, if one could believe his claims—not knowing exactly what he was hoping to achieve, only that he could not just stand there and let this lunatic use him however he pleased. Apparently, this had been foreseen, for two strong pairs of arms grabbed at him from behind—Blimey, James, why'd you leave your sodding back open?!—and stopped him before he got even two steps.
When the Dark Lord had the nerve to start laughing at his feeble attack, James snapped and was taken over by the infamous Malfoy temper that he had inherited from his Dad. Drawing on Quidditch skills passed down on both sides of the family tree, he swiftly feinted around the Death Eaters' grasping hands before they had really got a hold on him, using the sudden inflow of adrenaline to bypass his tortured muscles and moving with such speed and agility that he might as well have been Harry during his pro-Seeker days. Before the Dark Lord had time to react, James flung himself at him, left shoulder first, tackling him and forcing the air out of his lungs.
They went down in a heap on the cold, hard floor.
James knew he only had seconds to get up and run away before they would be over him, but still he stopped long enough to grab the wand out of the Dark Lord's by shock slackened grip, knowing that the ability to defend himself would be crucial to his survival. Frantically scrambling away from the downed man, he hurried out of the room at a semi-crouch. Even though he did not know where he was or where he might find an exit, he did not allow himself a single second's hesitation; if he was to get away scot-free, he needed to stay on the move. Therefore, he sprinted down the left-hand side of the corridor, hoping to come upon a way out of this mess.
Everywhere he ran, windows and exterior doors were locked tight with spells too powerful for his third-year student's knowledge, leaving him more and more desperate. His heart was pounding fiercely in his by fear tightening chest. He could hear chasing footsteps and the Dark Lord's furious shouting, but there was nowhere for him to run, nowhere he could hide from them …
Where was everyone when he needed them?!
As soon as the Death Eaters had left with Daring, Draco called Harry and the clones out of the kitchen while Piper ran off for the bathroom, holding her hands to her crotch in a very unflattering manner.
There were several matters they needed to take care of. First of all, someone had to go to the Ministry and stall their investigation, because it was no good if they sent out Aurors to the Manor to make sure that they were not hiding James there. There was no way they could keep more than two dozen Harry-clones hidden from them, and they really did not need that quandary.
Second of all, they needed to send someone to St. Mungo's to watch over the girl; someone who could report back to them as soon as she 'woke up' from her catatonia. It was easy to decide on the latter: Father Harry, the clone representing Harry's parental side, was perfect for the job and left momentarily. It proved a little harder to agree on who to send to the Ministry …
"I think it'd be best to send Intelligent," Harry argued soberly. "If anyone can come up with plausible reasons for them to stay put, it's him."
"You are overlooking the fact that Intelligent, together with Scheming, is our best chance of crafting a flawless plan and thereby ensuring that we get James back unscathed," one of the clones objected matter-of-factly.
"I can't argue with that. How about Creative, then? Surely he's our best bet at finding solutions to all possible situations that might arise at the Ministry."
"Ah, but you forget that your creative endeavours are more suitable in life-threatening conditions such as the Triwizard Tournament or the Chamber of Secrets," the same clone went on, "but not so much when one wrong word can shatter the entire operation."
Harry glared at the clone, obviously annoyed with it. "Well, then we'll send Optimistic—"
"No, no, no! He's way too chipper—they'll never believe he's you."
At that, Draco suddenly let out a growly moan of irritation and yelled, "That is it! Everyone shut up and send bloody Granger over there before I do something we'll all regret!"
Harry blinked stupidly. "Granger?"
"That bloody clone next to you! It's your know-it-all, I-have-to-be-right-all-the-bloody-time, I-know-best side—basically, your inner Hermione Granger. So let him go sort it out and let's go get James already!"
Harry disarmingly held up both hands in front of himself. "All right, all right—I'll go call Ron."
They were hoping to enlist their ginger-haired friend while having Jonathan holding down the fort together with Piper. Keeping an eye on the children while simultaneously keeping the left-behind clones in check was not a job they would like to entrust to Piper alone.
With 'Granger Harry' out of the way, Draco could finally take a breather. His head was pounding and his chest was tight with worry for their captured son, and every single breath was a little heavier to take. Therefore, he sighed with relief when a pair of strong, loving arms closed around his midsection and Harry rested his chin on Draco's right shoulder. Closing his eyes in gratitude, he murmured, "You always know what I need."
Hot lips brushed against his nape. "Of course I do—and I intend to give it to you."
The blonde gasped and jerked involuntarily when Harry's right hand slid down his belly and into the front of his trousers. As his lover's fingers started to stroke his awakening manhood with slow and sensual movements, he managed to breathe out, "Harry! Here?"
The raven-haired man responded by tracing Draco's earlobe with his tongue and then biting down, eliciting a small cry of pleasurable surprise from the blonde. "Let's go into the other room, have a little one-on-one before we go," he whispered straight into Draco's ear, his voice husky with desire.
His hand closed around the blonde's swiftly growing erection, magically willing the crotch area of the tight trousers to expand and grant him enough manoeuvrability to stroke him properly. Lost in the moment, Draco threw his head back and, panting loudly, pushed his pelvis out towards Harry's lovely touch. I guess James can wait just a little while longer …
"So, you need me to go with you and storm the castle?" Ron's voice was saying somewhere far, far away, but Draco did not pay him any mind; he was too preoccupied with the wonderful, tingly sensation in his cock and Harry's hot, wet tongue on his neck.
"Yes, that's right," Harry's voice said, but it was not coming from behind him now, but from somewhere in front of him. "We're gonna need all— What the Hell is going on here?!"
The sudden, horrified, and incredulous outburst made Draco jerk out of his reverie. He blinked sheepishly at his husband, who was standing in front of him, fuming and crimson with anger, with Ron on his left and Jonathan taking up the rear. For a long time, his brain could not compute what he was seeing. "What? But, how can you—You were—"
But then it hit him. It was not Harry currently pumping his achingly hard member—it was one of the clones! And at the same time, he realised that not only Harry but Ron and Jonathan—and all the other clones!—were seeing him getting a handjob!
Squealing in fright and shame, he tore himself free of the clone and swept his robes around himself, covering his still raging hard-on. Thank Merlin his sister had not been there, at least! But the wrath of Harry might be bad enough …
His husband came stomping up to him, stopping right in front of him. With tiny bolts of crackling lightning shooting out of his now black eyes, he glared at the clone. "Get the Hell out of here—now!" Then he fixed his gaze on Draco's. "You! What do you have to say for yourself?"
Draco shrank away from him, terrified by the utter fury that his thoughtless act had inspired in his partner. He had never been this angry with him before … What if he never forgave him?
"Well?!" Harry demanded.
Draco was just about to reply when Piper entered through the dining room archway. She stopped dead in her tracks when the tension hit her. "Er, what have I missed?"
"Draco was getting a handjob from one of Harry's clones when we got here," Jonathan helpfully informed her.
Her jaw drop. "No way! And I missed it!? No fair!"
Out of the blue, Harry raised his wand and shot out a burning hot flare that hit the ceiling and left a big, black scorch mark. "Shut up—all of you!" he roared, clearly beyond livid. "We have things to do, so let's just do them." And turning to Draco anew, he said, "We'll talk about this later."
Draco felt a cold hand crushing his heart in its grip at that moment, convinced that this would be the last thing they did together; once they had secured their son, Harry would be asking for a divorce. In a split second, all he wanted to do was scream. Scream and weep and beg for him to change his mind, to keep Draco in his life. But then he swallowed hard and pulled himself together. Harry was right: they had things to do. Everything else paled in comparison to the possibility that they would never see James alive again.
It could all wait.
With cold determination, he joined his husband and Ron at the table that Scheming had set up in the middle of the parlour. On it was a detailed map of the British Islands, and a red dot was blinking in the northern part of England, northeast of Carlisle. That was where Daring had been taken, and Draco felt his heart filling with new anxiety when it dawned on him that it was time to head into evil's lair again.
And maybe this time they would not return from it.
Jonathan watched them leave with a heavy heart. He did not like sending Ron off into danger like that, but he understood his husband's need to go. Harry had been his best friend since they were eleven and first came to Hogwarts, and after everything they had been through together, they had become family. He knew that, despite all their differences in the past, Ron considered Draco family, as well. Hell, Jonathan considered them all his family, too!
Still …
Of course, they had taken five of the clones with them, so they should be covered. The one they called Scheming had picked out the four counterparts that best suited the job: Competitive, Serious, Arrogant, and Selfless. When Optimistic had volunteered to go along as well, Harry had simply muttered, "Sure, we'll need some laughs," and Draco had blushed crimson.
Surely with five clones to form a meat shield around them, they would be fine. Just fine.
Still …
Little Timothy crawled up next to him on the couch and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It'll be all right, Uncle Johnny. They'll be back before you know it."
He was surprised at the amount of relief he felt at this small child's remark.
He was just about to reply when the flames in the fireplace suddenly flared up a bright green and Harry's voice could be heard: "Helen Abbott has regained consciousness."