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Third Time's a Charm

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Returning to Hogwarts for a delayed seventh year was bad enough. Draco knew, of course, that Potter and Granger and the Weasel would be back as well, but it was scarcely consoling to have those three as his companions in status. What bothered Draco far more was the fact that Neville Longbottom was acting as Professor Sprout's assistant, due to injuries she'd sustained in battle. The ignominy of it was overwhelming. Longbottom, the inept and despised Longbottom, would be in a position of authority over him, and Draco's entire being revolted at the thought.

He attended the first day's class dreading lest Longbottom find any excuse – or none – to exact some sort of revenge for all that Draco had done to him in previous years. Draco couldn't pretend even to himself that such revenge would not have been well-deserved. Rather to his astonishment, however, Longbottom ignored him almost completely, except to suggest that he wear thicker gloves to deal with the Venomous Tentacula. No points taken, no detention, nothing to suggest that Longbottom cared enough about Draco to bother.

Well, but Professor Sprout had been there that day, too. The real proof would be when Longbottom took the class alone. He was certainly competent to do so; Draco might look down on him, but Longbottom was a far better teacher than Professor Binns, for instance. Not that Draco was taking History of Magic any more. He was only in Herbology because his mother had insisted on it. The Manor's greenhouses held a number of rare magical plants, and she felt it suitable for her son to know something of their care.

After a few weeks of waiting to see what Longbottom might do, Draco grew used to the situation and managed to ignore Longbottom's presence except when he was actually teaching something. Ignore with regard to himself, that is; he couldn't help but notice the way that Longbottom interacted with some of the other students in the N.E.W.T. class, particularly with Harry Potter. Perhaps he noticed because he, too, paid rather a lot of attention to Potter, though he hoped he was not quite as obvious to others as Longbottom was to him.

Longbottom's hands trembled whenever he was showing Potter how to do something. Draco might have chalked it up to general Longbottom-ish nervousness, except that it didn't happen with anyone else but Draco himself, and that was easily explained by their past animosity.

What Draco found more interesting was that Potter gave hints of returning what Draco guessed were Longbottom's emotions. More than once Draco caught him giving Longbottom glances that could only be described as flirtatious, in a concealed sort of way.

All of that was just idle speculation, though, a way to while away the tedium of Herbology, or to occupy his solitary thoughts at meals. Between his unusual status as a delayed seventh-year and the role he'd played, albeit unwillingly, under Voldemort, few even of the Slytherins wanted to spend time with Draco.

He hated it. Nearly all his life he'd been the centre of an admiring and envious circle. The previous year had been horrible, and he'd hoped that things would return to normal once he was back at Hogwarts, but they hadn't. The returning students had the previous year's events to bind them. Potter, Weasley, and Granger had each other. Draco had no one, though his pride made him refuse to acknowledge his loneliness to anyone, even himself.

So he watched, and speculated, but kept his thoughts to himself. It wasn't until Draco came across Potter and the Weasley girl under the Quidditch stand one Saturday afternoon in October that his suspicions received some confirmation.

"Because I don't feel like it, Ginny." Potter's voice was unmistakable, and Draco prudently stepped out of sight behind one of the supporting pillars.

"What is it with you? I thought that after everything was over we'd get back together and things would be the way we always said they would be. I gave you up for a whole year because you insisted on it; I did everything I could possibly do here at Hogwarts while you were off traipsing around England with Hermione."

"And Ron," Potter reminded her. "I wasn't with Hermione that way, and you know it."

"Is there someone else now, then?" The Weaselette sounded both worried and furious at the thought. "Because you're not acting like you used to."

Draco strained to hear as Potter mumbled, "No. Well, maybe."

"Maybe?" she screeched. "Harry, this is not a difficult question. What do you mean, maybe?"

"I... I kind of like someone, but I don't know if they like me. I'm sorry, Ginny. It's nothing to do with you."

"How can it be nothing to do with me? If you don't want to go out with me any more because you like someone new, then it's everything to do with me. I'm not good enough for you." Now the anger had taken over her voice completely. "You want one of those soft silly girls who'll follow you around and never disagree, like Romilda."

"No!" Potter said, his tone urgent. "That's not it, honestly it's not. It's... it's not another girl."

A silence ensued. Draco raised his eyebrows. Evidently those looks Potter had been giving Longbottom weren't all in Draco's imagination. Potter might say he didn't know if the other boy liked him back, but Draco suspected he was just trying to spare the Weaselette's feelings. Oh, the nobility of a Gryffindor. It was enough to make Draco sick up.

At last the Weaselette said, "You mean you like boys."

"Yeah, I guess I do. I didn't want... I'm sorry, Ginny."

"Sorry. Right."

Angry footsteps – audible even on the packed dirt – came in Draco's direction, and he drew further into the shadows. He watched as Potter, shoulders slumped, trailed back to the castle, then wandered down the lake to think about what he'd overheard. So Potter admitted to being a poof, to thinking he was at any rate. There might be some very interesting possibilities there. That piece of knowledge was one that could serve as leverage for all sorts of things – if Draco had real proof. A few smoky glances across the greenhouse or the dining table hardly passed muster. Draco would have to see something more substantial with his own eyes.

He took to watching not just Potter but Longbottom as well. The latter he could do at meals more easily than he could observe Potter then, in fact, as Longbottom now sat at the end of the staff table nearest to Slytherin. He never noticed Draco keeping an eye on him, though, since he was invariably either making reluctant conversation with Professor Sinistra, or watching Potter himself.

It didn't take long before Draco had decided that there was unquestionably something going on between those two, and that if he were clever, he might be able to catch them in the act of snogging and perhaps even more.

Draco's chance came in the last week of January. During Tuesday's class, Potter managed to knock over an entire bench full of mandrakes waiting to be potted, and was given detention for it by Longbottom. Draco had some strong suspicions about that; Potter was so graceful on a broom that it seemed improbable he would be so clumsy by accident. It was Longbottom himself who had always been notorious for such awkwardness. Draco managed to put himself close enough to overhear that Potter was to serve his detention with Longbottom in Greenhouse Three that Friday evening after dinner, and promptly resolved that he would sneak in to see what happened.

He made sure that he finished eating early on Friday, and hid himself in the greenhouse well before he expected either Potter or Longbottom to turn up. Waiting was dull, and the damp warmth of the air was enough to make him feel sleepy, so he chose the best way he knew of to stay awake. Sliding his hand into his robes, Draco began to touch himself. He had no intention of actually coming; for one thing, he didn't know for certain when Longbottom or Potter might appear, and if they caught him wanking in the greenhouse, he would never live down the humiliation.

The door opened. Longbottom stepped inside, closed it behind him, and said, "Harry?" When no one answered, he moved briskly down the centre of the greenhouse and began stacking up pots. Draco edged a little further back into his corner and took his hand away from his prick, not wanting any distraction now.

When the door opened for a second time, Longbottom said without looking up, "We'll be repotting those mandrakes tonight, Harry. They're getting big."

Potter walked up behind Longbottom and put his arms around Longbottom's waist. "That's not the only thing getting big, is it?"

With surprise, Draco realised that Potter was trying to be witty. Not succeeding, necessarily, but trying.

"Harry." Longbottom sounded both pleased and exasperated. "I really do need to get the mandrakes dealt with. Help me with that, please, or I'll have to talk with Professor Sprout and have her take your detention instead."

"Oh, all right. But after we've finished, how about a reward for my efforts?"

Longbottom went still. "What kind of reward were you thinking of?"

"Can't you guess?" One of Potter's hands brushed across the front of Longbottom's robes.

"First the mandrakes," said Longbottom huskily. He extricated himself from Potter's embrace and fetched two pairs of earmuffs.

Oh, Merlin's bloody bollocks, Draco swore to himself. The mandrakes might be fairly young yet, but he didn't want to risk being around their cries without something to protect his hearing. He could probably sneak out of the greenhouse without being seen, but he didn't want to; the thought of spying on Potter and Longbottom together excited him – mostly Potter, of course, but Longbottom wasn't as bad as Draco had once thought. In fact, objectively speaking, Longbottom was not unattractive. Without their past bad blood to get in the way, he might have considered a flirtation with Longbottom himself.

Perhaps he could edge around behind the benches and reach the basket of spare earmuffs without them seeing? The other two boys were facing away from him and if he were quiet and careful he should be all right. Draco crouched down and began to scuttle quickly, wanting to get there before any of the mandrakes were uprooted.

He was lucky. Just as he was reaching into the basket, he heard the first shrill cry. He slipped on the first pair of earmuffs his hand touched – pink and fluffy, to his disgust, but there was no time to be particular – and hid himself behind a tall plant stand. This turned out to be a better spot than where he had been before. He had a lovely close view of Potter's arse in tight Muggle jeans. Draco regretted briefly that Longbottom had opted to wear robes, doubtless to reinforce his putative authority, but entertained himself with speculating on whether Longbottom was in traditional wizarding gear underneath – that is to say, nothing. The thought was really rather stimulating, and Draco felt his flagging erection return to life.

While Longbottom and Potter were repotting the mandrakes, they couldn't talk, of course, but Draco could see them touch each other: little brushes of fingertips over wrists, hips bumping gently as they worked side by side. When Harry stepped away to bring another stack of empty pots, Draco caught a glimpse of Longbottom's face and the naked longing there. Draco swallowed. Longbottom's expression reflected so accurately the way that he felt himself that it was difficult to watch.

At last they had finished. Longbottom looked carefully over the newly filled pots, nodded, and pulled off his earmuffs. Draco hastened to do the same; he didn't want to miss any of their conversation.

"... your reward now," he heard Longbottom say.

Potter wrapped his arms around Longbottom and kissed him. Clearly this was far from the first time. There was nothing hesitant or shy about their snogging, and Longbottom's hands went straight to Potter's arse. Potter moved his hips rhythmically.

Draco bit his lip. He had to keep quiet, but it wasn't easy, not watching Potter's unabashed frotting against Longbottom's leg. Sliding his hand into his robes once again, Draco stroked his aching cock. Whether Longbottom went for tradition or not, Draco found it very convenient at times. He kept his eyes fixed on the other two as Longbottom tugged up Potter's shirt and then fumbled between them at the fastenings of Potter's jeans.

Doxy's drawers. They'd backed up a few steps along the bench, and now Draco couldn't see properly. He hesitated. If he moved, and one of them glanced in his direction, he'd very likely be caught. But they did seem to have eyes only for each other... and this was perhaps his only chance. He decided to risk it, and edged away from the plant stand that concealed him.

That was much better. Longbottom's hand was inside Potter's jeans; the white of Potter's pants showed in little glimpses as Longbottom stroked him through the material. Potter had unbuttoned Longbottom's robes and they hung open, giving a glimpse of chest and abdomen and, yes, Longbottom did uphold some pureblood traditions after all. Draco caught a flash of unmistakably bare hip and thigh.

Longbottom groaned. "Harry... "

To Draco's delight, Potter dropped to his knees, pushing Longbottom's robes out of the way and licking at his bobbing prick. Draco couldn't see it clearly, with Potter's head in the way, but it looked substantial, dark with blood and curved slightly to the left. Longbottom leaned back against the bench, gripping it with both hands, as Potter started to suck him off.

It was almost unbearably arousing to see Potter going at it with such enthusiasm, making little grunting noises as his head bobbed up and down. Draco imagined Potter doing the same to him, and his hand on his own cock speeded up.

"Oh fuck," Longbottom choked out. "Harry!"

Potter took Longbottom's prick even deeper, his cheeks hollowing out. Longbottom's hands were moving caressingly over Potter's hair, urging him away and up, and he trembled as he came. Draco caught a glimpse of Potter's scarlet cockhead poking out above the elastic of his pants as he stood and put his arms around Longbottom. Merlin.

Straining to see, Draco took a half step sideways, and then the unthinkable happened: he bumped into the plant stand.

With a crash that sounded twice as loud for its unexpectedness, a pot full of shrivelfigs fell to the stone floor. Potter whipped around, his wand out, and Draco hardly had time to marvel at how quickly Potter reacted before that wand was at his throat, with Longbottom pulling his robes together hurriedly and attempting an authoritative frown as he moved closer too.

"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. Here," said Potter through gritted teeth, and Draco swallowed hard. There was no excuse he could give, no lie they would accept. His only hope was to tell the truth – or to be silent, but somehow he doubted he would be permitted that option.

"Watching you." His hand had fallen away from his cock at the sound of the crash, and his robes might conceal his arousal. He hoped.

"Why?" Longbottom's face was stern, his eyes cold. For the first time, Draco saw the man who'd had the courage to kill Nagini in front of Voldemort's eyes.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't Obliviate you right now," said Potter harshly. "What Neville and I do is none of your or anyone's business, and I won't have you getting him into any trouble. This was my idea."

Longbottom shook his head slightly at that. "Don't be noble, Harry. It was my doing as much as yours; more."

What Draco's mind seized on, though, was Potter's request for a reason not to cast Obliviate. Surely that meant Draco had a chance? "I swear by my family's name, I won't tell anyone."

He held his breath as Potter scrutinised his face.

"Not good enough." Potter shook his head. "What do you think, Neville?"

"I still want to know why he was watching," said Longbottom.

"Wh – why?" Draco stuttered.

"Yes, why." Longbottom's voice was cool. "And don't even think about lying."

Swallowing, Draco said, "Because I thought that the two of you might have something going on. I've seen how you look at each other."

"So you decided to spy on us and see if your suspicions were correct."

Draco gave a short nod, meeting Potter's gaze defiantly.

"How did you notice?" asked Longbottom softly. "We've been quite careful."

Heat surged up into Draco's face. "I watch Potter all the time," he mumbled, his gaze falling away from Potter's face to stare at the floor. "I realised that you did too, and eventually I saw he was looking back at you."

"I wonder how many other people have seen," Potter muttered. "But why watch me in the first place? Planning some nasty little surprise?"

"No," said Longbottom. "He was watching you for the same reason that I do, I'm sure."

Before Draco could move, Longbottom had taken Potter's hand and reached out to press it unerringly against Draco's erection, which had diminished somewhat from shock but was still plenty hard enough to make it quite evident what his reaction to seeing the other two boys had been.

Potter's eyebrows shot up. "You great perv."

Draco bristled. "No more than you."

"I don't get off on watching other blokes together."

"No, you're getting off with a bloke, who also happens to be your teacher," Draco pointed out.

"We're the same age," Potter protested.

"He's still your teacher." Draco cocked his head at Longbottom. "Definitely questionable. Abuse of power, that sort of thing."

Longbottom's mouth was set in a straight line. "If you're going to report us..."

"No." Draco spoke almost before he thought. "I didn't have any intention of doing that."

"How can we be sure?" asked Potter.

For answer, Draco sank to his knees, ignoring the wand that still pressed against his throat, and nuzzled against Potter's cock, tugging his pants down further to free it completely. "Because if I tried to get you into trouble, I wouldn't be able to do this."

"And why do you think I would want you to?" Potter asked, but he made no move to stop Draco from first running a finger along the smooth firm heated length of his prick, and then taking it into his mouth.

This might have been what Draco was born to do. He nuzzled closer and tugged gently on the loose skin of Potter's sac. The hairs on Potter's belly, tickling his nose, smelt of sweat and sex. One of Potter's hands clenched into Draco's hair, holding him there – not that he had any intention of moving – and Draco heard as if from a long way off Potter and Longbottom talking to each other.

"Harry, this isn't –"

"It – uh – it does mean he won't tell anyone," Potter argued, quite coherently considering that Draco was licking his way around Potter's balls.

"Yes, but," Longbottom paused, "but what about us?"

Potter thrust his prick deeper into Draco's mouth. "You know how I feel about you. Nothing will change that."

Wet sloppy sounds suggested that they had started snogging again. Draco didn't care. He redoubled his efforts, letting Potter's cock slide through his lips, running his tongue around the head to taste every drop that oozed out, stroking the base with his fingers. With his right hand he reached down to palm his own cock, hard to bursting, and shuddered. He let go of Potter's prick with his left hand and brushed behind his own balls, pressing lightly, then nudged his fingertip just into the tight pucker behind.

Potter's grip on Draco's hair tightened, but he gave no other warning before he groaned and came, the bitter fluid pulsing into Draco's mouth. Grimacing, Draco spat it onto the ground; he had never cared much for the taste. The knowledge that Potter had let Draco bring him to orgasm, though, was a dizzying enough rush that with only a couple more hard strokes, Draco was coming too, spattering semen into his robes.

He wiped his mouth, rose to his feet, and stared in defiance at Potter and Longbottom equally. "If you hadn't already had yours tonight, I'd offer to do you too, Longbottom."

Longbottom looked astonished. He had an arm wrapped around Potter's waist, and pulled them even closer together as he answered, "Why?"

"Because I think it would be enjoyable." Draco shrugged and raised his eyebrows.

"Enjoyable for whom?"

"For both of us," said Draco calmly. "And perhaps Potter too."

"Harry and I lo– like each other. We're together. Why would we want to have you around?"

Potter had been silent since he had come, but now he spoke. "Put your cock back in your robes and go wait over there for a minute." He pointed at the end of the greenhouse away from the door.

Hoping that the request meant they would consider his suggestion, Draco went, making sure that he did so at a casual pace, striving to look unconcerned by the outcome of Potter and Longbottom's discussion. He did turn around to watch them, straining his ears to see if he could hear any fragments of conversation, but there was an odd buzzing sound that distracted him. Perhaps one of the unfamiliar plants was responsible? He shook his head to try to clear it.

He couldn't hear, but he could see both Longbottom and Potter's faces set in stubborn lines. Despite himself he was impressed that Longbottom was willing to stand up to a boyfriend who also happened to be the wizarding world's greatest hero; not many would, in his robes. Perhaps that was why Potter "liked" him. Draco snickered softly to himself. He hadn't missed Longbottom's little slip.

If he'd had any hope that Potter might ditch Longbottom, though, that was clearly not going to happen. The two of them seemed far too close for that.

Occupied by speculating on just when and how this relationship between Longbottom and Potter had developed, if it was as recent of a phenomenon as Potter had indicated to the Weaselette or if perhaps it went back to earlier years and he simply hadn't noticed, Draco was startled when the buzzing in his ears cleared and he heard Potter say, "Come back here, Malfoy."

"Yes?" Draco returned to them, still sauntering. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing how much he wanted this, spontaneous as the offer had been.

"We'll give you a fortnight to prove yourself." Potter glanced at Longbottom, who nodded.

"Prove myself how?"

"We'll meet you at least twice in those two weeks – exactly when still to be determined – and you can put your tongue to good use to persuade us that we should carry on with meeting you after the fortnight is up," said Longbottom firmly.

"Said persuasion to be verbal or oral or both, at your discretion." Potter smirked. "I trust you won't object?"

Draco shook his head and smirked right back. "Certainly not." He pulled out his wand and quickly cast cleaning charms on all three of them. "I think you'll find I can be very persuasive, when I want to be."

Although Draco didn't expect that he would hear anything further from either Longbottom or Potter before the following weekend, on Tuesday during Herbology Longbottom shook his head over the essay that Draco had handed him and said, "Detention, Malfoy. Tonight in my rooms. Bring your quill; you'll be doing lines."

Draco glanced involuntarily at Potter, who was as usual working with the Weasel and Granger at a different bench, and saw a tiny smile tugging at Potter's lips.

"Yes, sir," he said aloud for the benefit of the other students, careful to keep his voice respectful although he was dancing inside with gleeful excitement. "Seven o'clock? After dinner?"

"Seven o'clock," Longbottom said. He piled up rolls of parchment and marched off to see what the three Hufflepuffs at the next bench were doing.

Draco spent the rest of the day alternately relieved that something was really going to happen, and panicked about what he might be getting himself into. Sex was sex, and that was all right, but being with these two could have... complications. An attachment to Potter could be useful – even his parents would agree to that, though they'd be unhappy if it were so serious as to prevent him making other alliances – but if Longbottom were part of the deal... well. Draco would just have to see what happened.

Precisely on the hour he presented himself at Longbottom's door. He hadn't bothered to bring the quill that Longbottom had demanded, certain it had been said for effect.

Not at all to Draco's surprise, Potter was already present, lounging on an overstuffed chair as if he owned it. He grinned at Draco and licked his lips.

Draco moved as if to go over to him.

"Lines first," said Longbottom firmly.

"What?" Draco was taken aback. "I thought that was just an excuse."

"Oh no. I said you'd be doing lines, and you will do some."

"I didn't bring my quill," admitted Draco.

"I would say that requires some further penalty, then," Longbottom said in a musing tone. "I could lend you one of mine, and double the number I planned to set."

"Or you could have him perform some alternate punishment instead," suggested Harry, pushing his unruly dark hair away from his eyes and smiling all too knowingly at Draco. "I'm sure that between us we could think of something suitable."

Draco nodded, but held his tongue.

"You're the imaginative one, not me," said Longbottom. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think that instead of using those fingers to write, perhaps he should show us what else he can do with them," Potter suggested.

"What do you have in mind?" asked Draco.

Potter's grin was positively wicked. "I'd like to you see you bring yourself off, with one hand on your cock and the other frigging your arsehole," he said. "Because somehow I suspect, Malfoy, that you do that to yourself regularly."

Longbottom looked surprised and a little concerned, but Draco said, "You're right, as a matter of fact. I do."

Even if it hadn't been the truth, he would have agreed to almost anything that Potter asked. The fact that Potter was interested in seeing something go into Draco's arse made Draco hope that perhaps Potter planned to fuck him, sooner or later. If Longbottom didn't raise any objections, that was. Or perhaps Potter planned to get Longbottom do to the fucking; that would be all right with Draco too, if Potter were watching and enjoying the show.

In the meantime, though, Draco unbuttoned his robes, leaning down to take off his shoes and socks. One thing to leave them on in the greenhouse, but quite another inside. When he was naked, he looked at Longbottom. Potter might have suggested this particular "punishment," but Longbottom was technically the one in charge. "Where do you want me?"

"Sit on the other chair, there."

Draco picked up his wand and moved to the indicated spot, sitting and raising one leg to drape it over the arm of the chair. He looked at Potter. "You used my wand, for a while; did you ever use it for this?" Draco put the tip of the wood to the tight pucker of his anus. "Lubricio." The wand slid in an inch as the lubrication he had conjured appeared. Draco licked his lips and fucked himself for a few strokes with the rowan wood shaft, not pushing in very far, just enough to see both Potter's and Longbottom's eyes widen in reaction to the sight.

"Doesn't that... hurt?" asked Longbottom, his voice slightly awed.

"You think I'd do it if it did?" Draco countered. "Well, I suppose I might," he added under his breath. "Haven't you ever put anything in your arse, Longbottom? Still a virgin?"

Neither Longbottom nor Potter objected to the fact that Draco had failed to use the honorific.

"I haven't done that," said Longbottom, apparently mesmerised by the wand's movements, even though Draco was not penetrating himself very deeply.

Potter said nothing, but his face was flushed. Draco shifted a bit to give Potter a better view.

"But you wanted to see me fuck myself on my fingers, didn't you, Potter? Unless you'd rather I do this... or I could conjure a more interesting toy if you'd like."

"I don't think I want to know where you learned all this," Potter muttered.

Draco shrugged, saying, "I was supposed to stay in my room out of the way as much as possible last year. I had to find something to occupy my time."

"So you were practising pervy ways to wank while we were risking our lives?" Potter scowled.

To Draco's surprise, Longbottom said, "His life was in danger, too, Harry. I want to hear about these other toys."

"If I'd known, I would have brought something, but I think my transfiguration skills are good enough to manage." He looked around and saw a candlestick. A quick Accio brought it flying to him. "Mind if I use this?"

When Longbottom shook his head, Draco pulled the wand from his now well-lubricated arse and used it to transfigure the candlestick into a solid rubber plug. Green, while he was at it, but he chose to make it smaller than the one that was his favourite. It was still reassuringly substantial in his hand as he put the rounded end to his anus, then gradually pushed until it was seated inside, his muscles gripping around the narrower neck.

He sighed, nudging at it so that it pressed against just the right spot, and held onto the base as he rocked slightly against the edge of the chair.

Longbottom made a strangled sound, his right hand pressed to the front of his robes.

Potter stood up and went over to Longbottom, beginning to stroke him through the fabric, but they both still watched Draco avidly as he moved.

"Fucking gorgeous," said Potter. "I'm not sure that it's much of a punishment, though. He seems to like it a little too much." Longbottom blinked thoughtfully, and whispered something in Potter's ear. Potter nodded.

"Harry's right, Malfoy. It hardly seems like punishment, so I think we'll have to try something else. You can keep doing that, but you can't let yourself come until we have, and one of us says you can. No matter what else we might do."

Now it was Draco's turn to widen his eyes. He would never have expected Longbottom to come up with something like that; it was positively Slytherin of him. Draco was hardly going to object, however. "All right."

Potter moved towards him, kneeling down, clearly curious to get a better look at the plug. He reached out to put his fingers over Draco's there.

"Do you want me to take it out so that you can put it back in me?" Draco asked.

With a gulp, Potter said, "Yes."

Draco obliged, pushing the plug out and into his hand, handing it to Potter who made a little face as he took it.

"Don't worry. The lubrication spell that I use has cleansing properties, too," Draco said. "Go ahead. Try it."

It took Potter a little while to realise that he did have to exert some pressure, and that he wasn't going to hurt Draco by doing so. When the plug was again fully seated, Potter kept his hand there, two fingers pressing against Draco's perineum. "Neville."

Longbottom knelt beside him. Having them both so close to his bare arse made Draco squirm; he'd never had quite this experience before, and although he was enjoying showing off, he did feel more than a little vulnerable, although that only added to the thrill.

"What is it, Harry?"

Potter took Longbottom's hand and guided it to touch Draco in the same spot.

"He really seems to like this."

Draco swallowed hard as the two of them stroked the soft skin above his arsehole, moving up to jostle his bollocks where they hung heavy and tight in his sac. He reminded himself that the whole point was to convince them to continue playing with him like this, and if he came now, so quickly and without permission, doubtless they would decide he hadn't persuaded them effectively. If Draco had the opportunity later tonight to fuck either one, he wouldn't want to be unable to perform. But Merlin, it was difficult.

"This is too awkward," said Potter abruptly. "Nev, you mind if we put him on your bed?"

Longbottom stroked once more across the base of Draco's straining cock and stood up. "Can you walk with that thing inside you?"

"Of course." Draco slid gracefully from the chair. "Which way?"

They led him into Longbottom's bedroom, which looked very much as Draco would have imagined it, had he ever bothered to do so. Utilitarian furnishings were enlivened only by the presence of a large number of plants crowded onto the table by the window, and by a pair of photographs on the bureau. He didn't exactly have time to assess the decor, however. Longbottom told him to lie down and be comfortable while the other two undressed.

The plug still safely lodged in his arse, Draco stroked himself idly as he watched. His glimpses at the greenhouse hadn't shown him all that much. Potter's body was the stockier of the two, thatched with tufts of dark hair, rather more than Draco himself had – or Longbottom, either, he noted. His bollocks were already snugged up tight, not too large, but his prick was as ruddy and toothsome as Draco remembered and his mouth practically watered at the sight. Longbottom, on the other hand, was a bit taller, less muscular, and hardly resembled the timid plump first-year Draco had teased.

When he turned so that Draco could see him completely, Draco squeezed his own cock hard in surprise. He hadn't been able to get a good look, when Potter had been sucking Longbottom off, but Longbottom was rather spectacularly well endowed. Potter noticed Draco staring and smirked.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" Potter laid a possessive hand on Longbottom's shoulder and another round his waist.

Swallowing, unable to take his eyes from the sight, Draco shook his head.

Longbottom's face had gone pink. "Harry."

"All right, I know. But it looks to me like Malfoy has just found another reason to be persuasive, if he needed one. So persuade us." He turned green eyes on Draco in mock innocence. "Beg nicely, Malfoy."

It felt awkward to speak like this about what he wanted. Draco did have some experience, but most of his sexual repertoire was solo and self-taught. Persuasive dirty talk was a little more of a challenge. Still, there was nothing for it.

"Sir," he began, and was pleased to see Longbottom flush more deeply. But what else could he say? "Sir, you have a gorgeous prick. I'd love to suck you off the way that I did Potter. I want to taste every inch, feel you fucking my throat. Or better yet, you could fuck me in the arse. I'd love to have that thick juicy cock pumping me. My little toy here is very nice, but it's nothing like having a real cock inside me. Won't you take it out and fill me up with the real thing instead?"

Longbottom stepped closer, Potter still right behind him, and ran his hand along Draco's side. "Keep talking."

"I want you, sir, want you to fuck me, impale me on that big hard cock you've been hiding under your robes, fuck me so hard that I can't sit down tomorrow. Please, sir, I want to hear your bollocks slapping against me, feel my arse stretched and sore when you're finished. However you want."

There was something freeing about saying all this aloud. He meant it and yet he didn't; what he really wanted was for Potter to do all that, or better still be doing it to Potter himself, but Longbottom would do admirably for the moment. Draco hadn't forgotten that he couldn't come himself until they had, and had given him permission; not if he wanted another chance at Potter again after this fortnight.

"I think you should take him up on his offer," said Potter. "Just look at him, all desperate like that. It's not a bad look for Malfoy, I must say."

Longbottom nodded and picked up a small jar. "I make my own lube," he said, scooping out a generous amount and slathering it along the length of his cock. "Nicer than the Muggle stuff, and more personal then a spell."

"How d'you want me?" asked Draco, forgetting this time to say "sir."

"On your knees, Malfoy," said Longbottom softly. "Harry, help him take that thing out."

Although Draco certainly needed no such help, he was more than happy to have Potter groping at his arse. As soon as the plug was gone, Longbottom was kneeling behind him. He pushed into Draco in one long slow thrust, then paused, giving Draco time to accustom himself. It felt as good as Draco had told Longbottom that it would; thick and hard, pressing against him in all the right places as Longbottom slowly began to move.

"Fuck," grunted Longbottom, and Draco said, "Please do." He heard a stifled snort from Potter.

Longbottom moved easily against Draco, gripping his hips as his cock slid in and out, better than any of Draco's toys – or perhaps that was because Potter's hands were on him too, ignoring his prick but scraping over his nipples as he braced himself against the assault on his bum.

"You look gorgeous like that," Potter said. Draco assumed he was talking to Longbottom, but then Potter added, "Both of you."

Draco arched his back and let himself move with Longbottom's rhythm. As long as Potter didn't stroke his cock, he thought he could hold out. He turned his head to glance at Potter, who had a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Is he good, Nev? Should I fuck him when you're finished?"

Merlin, yes please. Draco didn't say it, but he tightened his arse slightly around Longbottom's cock, eliciting a deep breath.

"He's good, all right. Fuck. Hot and really tight." He thrust against Draco. "How many blokes have done this to you, Malfoy?"

"Enough," Draco replied. It really was none of Longbottom's business, after all. "But no one for quite a while."

"I think I will," Potter decided. He ran his fingernails over Draco's nipple again. Draco hissed and bucked up against Longbottom. "You like that, don't you? You like it rough. Give it to him harder, Neville."

Longbottom did, pounding into Draco, as Potter continued to pinch his skin. One last great thrust from Longbottom nearly sent Draco sprawling into the mattress, and Longbottom groaned out, "Harry, fuck."

Longbottom had scarcely pulled out before Potter was there, the tip of his cock against Draco's loosened entrance. "Neville likes this," he said. "I think you will, too." Potter made tiny thrusts, popping the head of his prick just inside the tight muscle, then out again, teasingly, until Draco was moaning and shoving his arse backwards, desperate for more. When Potter finally gave it to him, Draco shuddered, balancing on one hand. The other went to his cock, gripping the base of it so that he wouldn't come right then. It wasn't actually any better than the fuck Longbottom had given him, but this was Potter, and he could have had a cock like a limp noodle and Draco would still have gotten off on it.

"Do you like this? You like watching me fuck him?" Potter asked.

"Yes," Longbottom's voice rasped.

Potter was moving faster now. "He's right, you are a good fuck, Malfoy."

"Th-thank you. Merlin, please!"

"Please, what?" said Potter, sounding gleeful.

"Please keep fucking me. Come in my arse where Longbottom did, let me come, I need to so badly." Draco was shaking with the effort to hold back as Potter's cock kept brushing over his prostate.

"I'll give you what you want, Malfoy." Potter's fingers pried Draco's away, and Draco moaned as Potter took him in a tight grip. "I'm going to pump you till you're dry, till you've given everything up for me. How does that sound?"

The stimulation of Potter's fingers and Potter's cock at once was too much; Draco could only writhe and moan. Potter seemed to take that as encouragement, for he rocked against Draco, fucking him until Draco came uncontrollably in what seemed like endless waves, his cock pulsing against Potter's fingers, his arsehole contracting around Potter's cock.

"Oh, fuck!" gasped Potter, giving a few more savage thrusts into Draco's hole, then stiffening as came.

"I would say that was decent persuasion," Longbottom remarked as Draco collapsed on the bed. "Not that I don't think we should give him the other chance we promised, mind you."

"No," Potter agreed. "Particularly if he has any other little tricks and toys to share. Besides, we made an agreement that needs to be kept."

Draco wasn't sure what he expected from either Potter or Longbottom the next day, but he certainly didn't anticipate being ignored. He endured the cold shoulder until Saturday, and then he went looking for Potter.

He found him in the library, of all the unexpected places, although the fact that Granger and the Weasel were there also explained a lot. Draco considered. He could sit at another table, and wait to catch Potter alone – perhaps the other two Gryffindors might leave, or Potter might need to get a book from the stacks. That was chancy, however. He might wait all afternoon and not find an opportunity. Instead, he set his own satchel of books down on the table and strolled up to where Potter and the others were seated.

The Weasel was the first to notice him, and sneer. "Malfoy."

"Weasley. Granger." Draco inclined his head. "Potter, can I talk to you? I have a question about the Herbology essay."

Only the faintest flush on Potter's face indicated awareness that Potter knew this must be about more than how to prune a Shrivelfig, or some equally innocuous topic. "All right," he said.

"Harry, you're supposed to be working on your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay," Granger protested.

"This won't take long," Draco said. "Over here, Potter."

Back at his own table, Draco flipped open his Herbology text and Potter rather reluctantly sat next to him.

"All right, what gives?" Draco asked in a fierce undertone, running his finger along the lines of text as if searching for the problem passage. "You've been ignoring me for three days. Longbottom won't even look at me, in or out of class. I thought that we had a deal?"

"Don't be impatient," Potter muttered in return. "There's another week yet to go in our deal. And this isn't exactly a normal situation. You have to expect a certain amount of... qualms."

Draco blinked, surprised to hear such a word on Harry Potter's lips. "Would those be your qualms, or Longbottom's?"

"Does it matter?"

Which told Draco that it was probably Longbottom, as Potter would doubtless have said openly if it were himself.

"All right. I have a question for you, then. You both seemed to like ordering me around. How would you feel if next time we did that in a little more formal fashion? Have you two ever played around with dominance and submission?"

Draco hadn't done too much along those lines, actually, but he had read enough about it to be willing to give it a try; and besides, he suspected that if anything might persuade them to keep him on as a sexual partner – and perhaps, he admitted in the privacy of his own mind, someday more – this might do the trick.

Potter swallowed. "Dominance and submission? Um, no, we haven't really."

"Do you think that Longbottom would be amenable? Would you be? Do you want to order me around, Potter? Or, if you'd rather, you could be the one to submit." Draco turned his head slightly, just in time to catch the expression that flickered across Potter's face. Interesting. Potter might actually enjoy being dominated, if he could bring himself to try it.

"Neville might consider it, yes. I'll talk with him. But if that's all, I'd better get back before Ron comes looking for me."

To Draco's surprise, Potter put a hand on his thigh under the table and squeezed before pushing back his chair and leaving. The simple touch was enough to make Draco's cock start to harden, and he cursed under his breath, shifting to try to ease the sudden pressure. Damn Potter for making him react so.

Potter evidently spoke with Longbottom sometime that very evening, for Draco saw Longbottom's eyes watching him with a puzzled expression for the next several days.

This offer, like the original, had been made on impulse, but as Draco thought about it, he decided that it had been a good one. He trusted Potter, and rather unexpectedly, he found that he trusted Longbottom even more. Given that Longbottom had had the chance to take subtle revenge on Draco all year, yet had not, was an indication of Longbottom's genuine honor. So if the two of them did take up Draco's offer, he felt confident that they would not push him too far. Besides, he was going to set some limits, or he wouldn't play. No pain, for instance. He had never done that and didn't especially want to, certainly not yet. He rather thought he might allow himself to be bound, though; it had been exciting last time, when he'd been told that he couldn't come without permission, and if he were tied up that would be the same sort of dynamic. It would depend on what the other two wanted, of course.

This time Longbottom didn't give Draco a detention to get him there. It had been Potter who brushed past Draco in the hallway as they were both going to Transfiguration and said, in a voice that no one further than two feet away could have heard, "Neville's quarters, tonight, seven o'clock."

Draco sat with a very uncomfortable erection through the first half of Transfiguration that morning, until he was distracted by trying to turn a stone into a rose. Inanimate-to-animate transfigurations were the most difficult type, and even Granger hadn't been successful by the end of the morning.

After lunch he had two hours free that he usually used for revision before Potions in late afternoon, but today he went to his dormitory, cast privacy spells around his bed, and wanked furiously. He came twice, once with his favourite toy thrusting in and out of his arse as he imagined it was Potter and Longbottom taking turns. If he was going to be at their mercy tonight, he wanted to be sure that he'd got in a good orgasm or two already, to sustain him.

Once again he knocked at Longbottom's door at the stated hour, and once again, Potter was already present.

"Hi," he said, letting Draco in.

Draco looked across the room at Longbottom, whose face was slightly pink. "Sir?" he asked, and saw Longbottom's flush deepen.

"Have a seat, Malfoy. Harry says that you want to be ordered around?"

Draco sank into one of the chairs, leaning back and pretending a casualness he didn't quite feel. "You can tell me what to do, or Potter can, or we can do it the other way around," he drawled. "Whichever you like. There are other possibilities, too; I'm not interested in canes or whips or that sort of thing, but you could for instance blindfold or restrain me..." He let his voice trail off, watching the two of them intently. He didn't care much if they wanted to try any of it or not. It was the fact that he was making himself so vulnerable, trusting them, that he hoped would be meaningful.

Potter had gone to sit next to Longbottom.

"I'm not sure; that sounds a bit dodgy, possibly even dangerous," said Longbottom.

Draco shrugged. "The thing to do is to have a safe word. If I get too uncomfortable with what you're doing, I say the word and you stop, no questions asked. Usually that's more for situations where pain is likely to be involved, but it would work fine for this, too."

"You've done this before, haven't you? With... oh, never mind, I don't suppose it matters who," said Potter. "You must like it all right or you wouldn't have suggested it."

He certainly wasn't going to tell Potter that he hadn't, and his reading gave him more knowledge than either of them. He was sure he could handle anything that might happen.

"What word would you use?" asked Longbottom.

"It needs to be something short and easy, but not a word I'd otherwise use," said Draco. "How about 'snitch'?"

"All right." Longbottom stood up, still looking a little apprehensive. "Harry?"

Potter rose too, his eyes intent on Draco's face. "So Malfoy is going to be submitting to both of us?"

"Yes," said Longbottom, at the same time as Draco said, "That's up to you to decide."

"What?" said Longbottom.

"It's up to Potter to decide," said Draco. "Maybe he would prefer it if he were tied up beside me, with you ordering him as well; or maybe he'd like me to do the ordering." He shrugged.

"Harry? What do you want?"

"I, um." Potter's robes were clenched in his fists. "I'm not sure. I kind of like both ideas. Maybe to begin with I'll be with you, Nev, but perhaps later I could take a turn with D– with Malfoy."

"If you want to call me Draco, you can," Draco said. "It is my name, after all."

Potter looked a little embarrassed. Longbottom, though, nodded and said, "I think that's fair. Draco, then, but you should call us by our first names, too."

"All right. So, Neville," he emphasised the name lightly, "what do you want me to do?"

"First of all I think you should take your clothes off, and then you can undress us."

With a nod, Draco began unbuttoning his robes. He put on a little show for them; nothing too over-the-top, but turning so that he appeared to best advantage, for instance. He pulled at his cock surreptitiously, as well, so that when he was finished it jutted up against his stomach for them to see. It was a nice-looking cock, if he said so himself, though not as large as Longbottom's.

"Next Harry, and then me," said Longbottom. Neville, that was. If he was supposed to call them by their first names, Draco supposed he should get used to thinking of them the same way, although that might make things tricky at other times. The Weasel was likely to hex him if he heard Draco call Potter "Harry." His sister would doubtless be worse.

Draco knelt down to remove Harry's shoes first. As he pulled off Harry's socks, he ran his hands up Harry's legs to above the knee. Harry made a strangled sound.

"Tickles."

"Sorry." Draco smiled to himself. He'd have to remember that if he ever had another chance at this.

Unlike Draco, and probably Neville too, judging from previous experience, Harry had on trousers and a shirt under his robes, so it took a little time to strip him completely, but then, that gave Draco more of an excuse to touch Harry. He was ticklish all over, Draco discovered, if he was touched too lightly, but when Draco put first lips and then teeth to Harry's skin, Harry shivered in pleasure, his hand going almost automatically to his cock. He fisted himself slowly, watching as Draco moved to undress Neville, who as Draco had suspected was indeed wearing nothing under his robes.

"Now what?" Draco asked, hoping that Neville would soon get the idea that he should simply tell Draco what to do, and not force Draco to ask him. The same applied to Harry, who hadn't yet tonight ordered Draco to do anything.

"Um." Neville looked at Harry. "What do you think?"

"He was awfully good with his tongue," Harry said thoughtfully. "Remember what I did to you a couple of weeks ago? You think he'd be good at that?"

Neville turned bright red, the flush spreading from his face all the way down to his chest, but his prick was stone hard and Draco saw it shining with dampness at the head.

"What did you do?" asked Draco with interest.

"I, um, I licked his arsehole," said Harry, also turning slightly pink. "He really liked it. I know – you can do that and I'll suck him at the same time."

Draco tried to visualise the position, which seemed a little awkward, but possible. The prospect of rimming Neville didn't especially bother him; he'd learned a spell that would make sure Neville's arsehole was clean before he had his tongue in it. "I think we could manage that," he said.

"Let's go into the bedroom," said Neville.

"Good idea. I think we'll need some pillows, or it'll be uncomfortable especially for Harry," Draco agreed.

Neville knelt on his hands and knees, positioning himself above Harry, who propped his head and shoulders on several pillows so that he could reach Neville's cock. They quickly discovered that he had to be sideways, so that Draco had room to kneel behind Neville's bum.

When Draco spread the cheeks of Neville's arse apart, whispered the cleaning spell, and then ran his tongue in a circle around the puckered brown entrance, Neville moaned. "Fuck, yes."

Draco kept licking, gradually pushing the tip of his tongue deeper and deeper, coaxing the muscles to relax and open up for him, until he was lapping at the tender flesh inside. Neville swayed, caught between Draco's mouth and Harry's, making inarticulate sounds in which could occasionally be discerned words like "please" and "fuck" and "more."

Both of Draco's hands were occupied in holding Neville's arse open, his thumbs brushing the backs of Neville's bollocks. He felt Harry's fingers travelling up the back of his own leg.

Draco wriggled a bit, inviting Harry to slide his hand further up. His face was pushed into Neville's arse, tongue stabbing into him. Neville grunted loudly, his arsehole contracting, and Draco knew that he must have come, but kept licking and sucking at the tight aperture until Neville pulled away.

Wiping his mouth and sitting back on his haunches, Draco looked up to see Harry and Neville sprawled together, kissing, Neville's hand fondling Harry's prick and balls. His own cock throbbed in response, but before he decided to do anything about it, the other two had stopped kissing and were turning to him. Draco summoned up the cockiest smile he could manage.

"Enjoy that?"

Neville gave him back a smile that was far more feral than Draco had ever expected to see on those usually calm round features. "I think you should stretch out and get comfortable, because I'm going to tie you up now. Face up, and put a pillow or two under your head if you'd like."

Quickly Draco arranged himself. It was actually Harry who cast the spell that bound his hands and feet to the bedposts, while Neville brought a tie – a Gryffindor tie, of course – and wrapped it securely around Draco's eyes.

"On second thought..." he heard Neville say. The ropes around his feet loosened, and his legs were lifted and bent, the pillows under his head moved to below to his lower back, so that his arse was lifted and exposed. Neville murmured a charm and Draco shivered slightly as he felt the slickness of lubricant, then the touch of something firm against his hole. It slid inside and Draco realised that he was being fucked with someone's wand. He whimpered.

The wand continued to thrust into and out of him in a smooth rhythm, too regular to be anything but a spell moving it, Draco decided. He shifted his hips just a fraction, so that it would brush over his prostate, but the narrow strip of wood wasn't enough give him the pressure he really needed. "Please," he begged.

He felt the mattress move, and then warm breath against each side of his cheek.

"You look fucking amazing like this," said Harry's voice to his left. "So open and needy, your greedy little hole practically swallowing up my wand."

Draco moaned again, thinking of Harry's wand inside him so intimately.

A hand stroked along his prick. Neville said, "We're going to let that keep going for a while, and Harry's going to kneel over you so that you can do to him what you did to me. Then he's going to fuck himself on your prick. If he hasn't come by then, he'll fuck you afterward; or else maybe I will."

"Yes," whispered Draco. The mattress shifted again, and then he felt Harry's legs on either side of his torso, and Harry's arse brushed his lips. Draco repeated the cleaning spell he'd used on Neville. This was more awkward; he couldn't use his hands to hold Harry's bum cheeks apart, and it was harder to breathe. Moreover the wand moving in his own arse was distracting. He did his best, however, lapping at the taut flesh under his tongue, learning the texture and scent of Harry there.

"Good, isn't it?" he heard Neville ask, and Harry gave an enthusiastic "Yes" in reply. The space in which Draco was lapping widened, and Draco realised that either Harry or Neville must be holding Harry open for him, which made it much easier to slip his tongue further into the velvet heat. His own cock was rigid, leaking a little onto his stomach. He sucked and licked frantically, hearing Harry's moans.

"Enough," said Neville at last, and Harry moved away, muttering a lubrication spell. The wand slid out of Draco's arse, leaving him empty. A hand grasped Draco's cock, and then he was being guided into Harry's slicked-up channel. The groan Draco gave was echoed by Harry.

Harry's arse was warm and welcoming, gripping Draco's prick. He rocked steadily; Draco whimpered, wishing that he could see Harry, see his face flushed with arousal, see his cock bobbing as he moved. Hands – they must have been Neville's – stroked over Draco's chest and scraped across his nipples. It was surely Neville who soothed that tiny pain with his tongue.

"Oh, fuck," Draco heard Harry say as he shifted slightly. "Fuck me."

"Thought I was," said Draco with a gasping chuckle. Merlin, but he was close, if Harry would just move a little faster... "More," he begged, and Harry obliged, speeding up a fraction and shoving Draco's cock deeper into his arse.

Almost... almost... there. Draco's orgasm tore through him, his hips trying uselessly to thrust as he shot deep into Harry.

"Oh, fuck but that was good," said Draco with a satisfied sigh when he could speak again. Harry eased himself up, leaving Draco's wet cock to rest limply against his stomach.

"Yes, it was."

"Harry, you'd better release the spell," said Neville. He'd pulled the tie away from Draco's eyes and gave him a tight grin. "Ready?"

Draco gave a slightly dazed nod.

"Finite incantatem," Harry said, and the ropes vanished. "On your knees."

"Lubricio," said Draco, concentrating hard, and felt the slickness as the spell did its work. What had been there with the wand had mostly worn away, and he didn't know if Harry would have realised that. Now that he'd come he was a little less enthusiastic, but even if he hadn't had good reason to go along with whatever the other two wanted, there was no chance he would give up the opportunity of being buggered by the Boy Who Lived.

Within seconds of Draco's kneeling, he felt the head of Harry's prick nudging him open. Draco relaxed into the intrusion, resting his head on his folded arms, his thighs spread wide to give Harry that most intimate access. With his head turned, he could see from an odd angle Neville sitting beside Harry, apparently caressing his chest with one hand as Harry thrust into Draco. It wasn't long before Harry's nails bit into Draco's hips as he pumped rapidly and let out a deep grunt of satisfaction, withdrawing to let Draco half-collapse onto the bed.

Draco rolled over gingerly and looked up at Harry and Neville, who had their arms around each other's waists and were gazing soberly back at him.

"What is it?" asked Draco with a touch of nervousness.

Neville exchanged glances with Harry, who nodded.

"Let's cleaned up first; then we can talk out. I have Butterbeer or there's tea if you'd rather," said Neville.

A couple of cleaning charms later, Draco had dressed and followed Neville and Harry back into the outer room. He accepted a Butterbeer and drank thirstily. "What is it? I don't expect you to have made any kind of decision yet, you know; the deal was that I'd have two weeks to persuade you, and that's not even up yet. We never said how long you could take to decide."

Neville was holding Harry's hand, running his thumb over Harry's knuckles absentmindedly. "We don't need to wait to decide. You see –" he tilted his head towards Harry. "Maybe you should tell him?"

"All right," said Harry. "We talked about it and decided after that first night in the greenhouse, actually. You've been watching me all year; did you think I hadn't noticed? I've had an eye on you, too, although not in quite the same way. I got Ron and Hermione to do it, although they didn't know why. Ron thought that he was just making certain you weren't going to do anything nasty to any of us, in revenge."

"I don't understand. Aren't the two of you together, then?"

"Yes, we are," explained Neville patiently. "But Harry was interested in you, too, and I want Harry to be happy and have what he wants, so he persuaded me to think about this as a possibility even before you found us together." He shrugged. "And, frankly, you've been so much less of a prick this year that I decided it was worth a try. So."

"So what we're saying," Harry took up the thread again, "is that we'd like for the three of us to be together. If you're all right with that idea. I think we've proved that the sex part can be pretty amazing; and as for getting on generally, well, we can at least try it and see how it goes, don't you think?"

Draco nodded. He raised his bottle of Butterbeer to them in a toast. "To the future, then."

"Hear, hear," said Harry, and Neville echoed him with a smile. Draco smiled back, a tension that he'd never wanted to recognize leaving him at last.