part 3 of 3

Note: A whole mountain of thanks to my marvellous beta, Raisinous Fiendling, not only for putting much needed commas into my text but also for helping shape the story into something presentable. I would also like to give a big big hug to dragon_charmer for being a wonderful mod and more.

The silvery light of the three-quarter moon fell across the bed in a wide stripe, and a pleasant cool breeze wafted into the room through the half-open window. Harry lay in an awkward tangle of sheets, wide awake and uncomfortable. Next to him, Ginny lay sleeping peacefully.

Harry sat up and untangled himself from the sheets, straightening them out and covering Ginny properly before once more lying down. It was impossible! He couldn't sleep next to her. Not after Draco and the past month and a half. Unpleasant feelings of unease, guilt and a deep sense of wrongness churned inside him. How could he go back to sleeping and living and laughing with his wife as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed?

Harry tossed and turned for a couple of minutes longer before giving up and transforming. Maybe as a snake it would be easier. Maybe the simplified and distanced perspective that the snake's consciousness afforded would help.

It didn't. The scent and presence of Ginny grew stronger and wronger. It was the familiar scent of someone beloved and dear, but it wasn't the scent he craved, the scent of his lover. In the snake's mind, all his logical explanations and reasons started to feel trivial and circumstantial. The snake felt restless in this place he no longer belonged.

Harry slithered up the bed's headboard to the windowsill. Following a whim, he slid out the window and wound his way down the flowering wisteria till he reached the cool damp grass of the garden. His sensitive senses were assaulted by the smells and sounds of the summer night. The garden was beautiful and familiar, and almost as dear to him as the people sleeping in the house. A strong wave of melancholy stole over Harry. Even the snake seemed to be in a thoughtful and introspective mood tonight.

Hogwarts had broken up for the summer holidays, and earlier today he had joined Ginny and an exuberant Lily at King's Cross to welcome James and Albus home. He had seen Draco further down the platform with his ex-wife, as he too waited for his son. It felt strange, returning to the old distance between them. It had seemed like a parody of the previous September, when they had stood in almost exactly the same positions. Everything seemed to be the same, and yet it was not and never would, could, be. Harry, no matter what Draco said, could not return to his old life.

And now Harry was once more home. Once more back with his wife and children. But home was no longer a place he felt like he completely belonged. The nagging feeling he'd persistently ignored for the last decade, that all was not well, was now a glaring certainty. No matter how much he loved his children and didn't want to let his wife down, he found that he no longer had the fortitude to return to the numb incomplete life of before. The past few months at Malfoy Manor, he had been confronted with what he desired but had given up hope of ever attaining. Now that he felt whole and completely alive again, he found that he was greedy and selfish. He wanted it all: a lover he desired, the love of his children, and the friendship and understanding of his wife.

Harry sighed; the snake hissed mournfully. All the time he had spent at the manor he had been plagued by desire, both for the man who obviously wanted him and for the chance to finally experience what he had only covertly dreamed of for so long, and by a heavy sense of duty and trust that commanded him to be strong and not to give in to fleeting sensual pleasures. But he was only human, and he had not been able to resist stealing a kiss. Stealing a kiss that had turned his world on its head, because he found that he would gladly break promises and betray trusts for another kiss like that.

It was with great difficulty that he had fought the losing battle of not giving in. He had been torn apart by longing and guilt until he was confused and delirious, until it had been too easy to fall. Each night he had dreamt of Draco, and each morning he had remembered Ginny. And then, with a few well-placed words, Draco had made him more jealous than Ginny ever had. After that he had lost the battle; seeing Draco with another man had only been the final straw. He had let himself drown in the unknown bliss that was Draco; sleeping with Draco, waking up with Draco, laughing and talking with Draco. Harry hadn't felt so carefree and happy and satisfied in too many years to count. And yet, whenever Draco wasn't there, he was wracked with uncertainty and guilt, but still he couldn't stop what he had begun, he couldn't give up what he had found.

As they managed to properly infiltrate the group and collect all the needed information and names to completely expose them, they knew their comfortable time of living together at the manor was coming to an end. Draco, ever the practical one, had been the first to speak of the matter.

"Harry, you do realise this has to eventually end, don't you?" he had said. "When we are finished with this business, you will leave and return to your wife. And we will be over."

Draco had said he didn't want to become the 'other woman', not for Harry, not for anyone. Harry couldn't argue, it seemed reasonable, the sensible thing to do. "Go back to Ginny, and think of me as a pleasant interlude," Draco had said. "Otherwise things will end in tears and harsh words and maybe in the irreparable. You don't want to end up like me, do you? All alone in a big old house, with only my own mother for company – when she isn't travelling the world, that is."

Harry wasn't so sure that things had turned out as badly for Draco as he made out. He was now on friendly enough terms with his former wife, he had a very good relationship with his son – if the frequency of owl post to and from Hogwarts was anything to go by – and if he didn't want to be alone, then he shouldn't waste his time on frivolous relationships with shallow young men. Harry remembered seeing Draco wrapped around the attractive young Chaser and scowled. How soon would the gossip columns once more feature Draco and his latest conquests? Harry hissed, suddenly very angry at the thought, and looked around for something to attack or bite.

Harry slithered around the garden, trying to cool down. He climbed up a slender pear tree and wrapped his sleek body round one of its thin branches. He spent a couple of moments simply contemplating the quiet view of the garden, the silent house, the hills in the distance, the thin gauzy clouds that moved slowly across the night sky. The moment of stillness was only short-lived. His thoughts, overflowing and irrepressible, came crashing over him once again.

He thought of Lily, bouncing with anticipation to see her brothers again after so many months, of Ginny, holding her daughter's hand tightly and smiling softly, and somewhat wistfully, as the Hogwarts Express came into view. He thought of Albus, running out of the train, almost forgetting his trunk in his hurry, eager to see his parents again and tell them all about how great Hogwarts was, and James, trying to act grown up and old, but failing spectacularly, as he too was bursting with stories to share. And then there was Draco, out of the corner of his eye, hugging his son who both blushed and grinned before turning to his mother to be hugged and kissed again.

And yet, and yet, Harry was a father and a husband, and had been for years, but being with Draco had only just reminded him that he could also be a lover and a man. How could he give that up again? How could he give the other up either?

Harry looked towards the bedroom window, where Ginny lay sleeping. Whenever he thought of Ginny, it was with a sick feeling of guilt twisting in his stomach. The guilt was not new; it had been festering for years now, ever since he had realised that, try as he might, he could never be a proper husband to her. The interlude with Draco had only entrenched the guilt further. Now he was not only guilty by thoughts and omission, but also by actions. He had long thought that Ginny deserved so much better than he could give her. Often he had wondered if she too felt how hollow and perfunctory their marriage had become. If it bothered her that they had become friends rather than lovers. She had married a hero, but had ended up with an indifferent, distant husband. Didn't she feel cheated and angry? He had caught her looking at him wistfully, or even questioningly, but he had never found the courage, and the words, to ask her how she felt, if she was happy, if she could forgive him for letting her down.

He wound up the tree to reach the very top and escape the self-accusatory and maudlin thoughts that plagued him. He turned his thoughts to Draco instead, to how his skin glowed in the moonlight, how the sweat that pooled in the small of his back tasted, how at home he felt wrapped around him.

*****

Draco slowly sipped his drink in the pleasant cool air of the late June evening.

"Draco, you know the Notts, don't you?" asked Beaufort from his seat opposite Draco.

"I went to school with their son. Smart as a whip, but a loner. If you're thinking of getting Theo to join the cause, forget it. He's not a team player," Draco answered. He certainly didn't want to get any of his friends mixed up with this group.

They were gathered on the veranda of the country house that was the usual location of their meetings – the country house that Draco only recently had learnt the exact location of. They were drinking martinis and enjoying the rolling view of the lush countryside as they worked on how to take over the wizarding world.

This is the life! Draco thought. Being a spy is much easier than my day job. He was almost ashamed at how much he enjoyed these meetings. The inner circle of the Sons of Merlin were his kind of people: rich, educated, pure-blood, privileged, and Slytherin to the core.

Truth be told, he would miss the Sons of Merlin once it was all over. He got on like a house on fire with Lady Lennox and, even though he knew that she was a dangerous woman, in his heart of hearts he half hoped that when it came to it, she would find a way to worm herself out of trouble. She certainly seemed capable. Hardcastle was an all right sort, but he wasn't so keen on Gyula Huszár. Then again he never really got on with foreigners. As for Beaufort, he was the sort of man Draco would have fancied, if it wasn't for Harry making all others seem lacking by comparison. Beaufort was definitely interested and their sophisticated flirting was very enjoyable, made more so by the way Harry's grip around his arm or shoulders would get tighter in warning as he hissed his all too obvious jealousy. These were the sort of people Draco usually socialised with, not gauche Gryffindors like Harry, and if things had been different, Draco could very well have seen himself as a true member of the group. That's why it felt so unreal that soon they would all be apprehended and the group disbanded, and it would all be due to Draco's duplicity. Sometimes he actually felt guilty.

With a drink in one hand and Glaucus, as he called Harry as a snake, comfortably wrapped around the other wrist, he felt marvellously content and at ease with the world, as he discussed dirty politics with this dangerous, subversive band of pure-blood supremacists. When he was young, this had been how he had imagined the Death Eaters would have been.

It was hard not to get slightly maudlin thinking how the end was drawing near: for his short career as an undercover spy, his meetings with the Sons, and most of all his time with Harry. There was a reason he preferred the young and shallow for his brief, enjoyable, but ultimately meaningless, dalliances. Harry, as always, was different; he had got attached to Harry and let him get closer than he had let a lover get in a long time. He had known from the beginning that he was making a mistake, but reason and logic had never stopped him from playing with fire before, even though he invariably got burnt more often than not.

Losing Harry was going to hurt. Already, sending him home to his wife now that Hogwarts had broken up and the children returned had left an unpleasant, sour taste in his mouth. Losing Harry could even prove to hurt as much as losing Asteria had.

It was odd how much losing Asteria had hurt. She had been the safe, sensible choice, the picture-perfect wife and mother: beautiful and smart, personable and well-bred. He had been very fond of her when he asked her to marry him, but during their brief marriage he had grown to love her, in his own peculiar way, and count on her to be part of his life. He certainly hadn't meant to be caught with his trousers down and wreck it all.

And yet, he wouldn't have been able to repress himself and do without, like Harry had apparently done. Draco knew very well how weak and selfish he was. If he were given the chance, he would have begged and pleaded with Asteria. He would have promised to give all aberrant philandering up and be true, if she would forgive him and stay. Only Asteria was too smart and knew him too well; she hadn't given him the chance because it would have been a lie. He wouldn't have stopped sleeping with men; he would have just become more careful.

And so it had ended, publicly and painfully and acrimoniously. Draco had learnt the hard way that if he had thought it had been difficult to please a wife, it was even more so to please an ex-wife. It had taken years for her to forgive him for his betrayal and the embarrassment he had caused her, and still caused her every time he made the society pages with one of his new conquests.

Draco swallowed a large sip of martini and only half-listened to the conversation going on around him. Glaucus seemed to be dozing, his body wrapped around Draco's lower arm and his head rested on the pulse point of his wrist.

Draco assumed that in a way, he deserved to be alone, rattling around the large empty manor house with only the occasional company of his mother and son. Harry, however, didn't deserve it. Harry was a better man than him, he knew that one couldn't possibly have one's cake and eat it too. As much as he didn't want to, and every selfish molecule of his body protested against it, he had to give Harry up for the other man's own good. It seemed that some of Harry had rubbed off on him after all. He looked down at the brightly coloured snake affectionately.

"Stop admiring Glaucus," Lady Lennox chided him good-naturedly, "and come to my aid. These two brutes believe that we can get away with simply blackmailing a couple of lower-level Ministry quill pushers. But you and I both know that more subtlety than that is required, don't we, darling?"

Draco turned to look at her and give her a charming smile.

"My dear, dear Lady Lennox," he told her, "never listen to those two, they would take a sledgehammer to break an ice cube. Your instincts are, as per usual, impeccable. As an expert in such matters, I can safely inform you..."

Without even trying, all the speeches and lectures his father had ever given him on political manipulation came to mind, like they invariably did during these meetings, and Draco had no difficulty whatsoever repeating them almost verbatim. Glaucus gave a soft hiss and gently squeezed his wrist, reminding Draco that he wasn't in the least fooled.

*****

The room was dark and the smell of sex and sweat permeated the air. Harry wrapped himself around Draco's slim body, feeling sated and content.

"I think Glaucus' habits are rubbing off on you," Draco drawled softly. "You seem to want to wrap around me in whatever form you are."

Harry lifted his head to look at his reclining lover.

"Sometimes I think you prefer him to me!" he joked. "Should I be jealous of that slippery snake?"

Draco looked for a minute like he was giving it some thought.

"Well," he began. " I am very fond of Glaucus. We get along just fine. He usually behaves himself and is very easy to please. All he needs is a warm shoebox to sleep in and a mouse a week. Not to mention how good looking he is. And he apparently dotes on me." Draco paused to smirk. "Sorry, Harry, but if I had to choose, it looks like you'd lose."

Harry put on his best mock angry expression. "If that's how it is," he said before transforming.

Draco gave a yelp of surprise upon finding an adder curled up on his torso. Harry uncurled himself and started exploring the naked man under him in his snake form. Draco gasped and giggled.

"Stop," he pleaded breathlessly. "Stop, I'm ticklish!"

Harry came to settle across Draco's chest and lifted his head to look at his prey. Draco was smiling.

"Sorry, Glaucus," he said, "but I prefer Harry in bed. He is warm and comfortable and has the delightful habit of shagging me."

Mischievously, Harry stretched out his tail and wrapped it around Draco's soft cock to give it a squeeze while lowering his head to flick out his tongue against a delicately pebbled nipple.

Draco squeaked. "Harry!" he forced out. "Stop. You win! Just stop."

Harry transformed back to lie on top of the blond, his arms crossed under him and rested on the other man's chest, their legs entwined. He winked at Draco while grinning smugly.

"You are one perverted snake, you know that?" Draco informed him.

Instead of answering, Harry wrapped himself around his lover once more, burying his nose in the tousled, sweaty hair.

"Has Robards told you when they are going to make a move yet?" Draco asked suddenly.

Harry buried his face deeper into the blond hair. "No," he mumbled indistinctly.

"But it should be soon. Our mission is completed, we've got him all the information he needs," Draco continued. "It's only a matter of time," he added, sounding wistful.

"It sounds like you are actually going to miss that group of elitist prigs!" Harry accused him.

Draco shrugged and Harry could feel the smooth movement of muscle beneath silky skin under him.

"I am an elitist prig," he retorted. "Some of them are actually quite pleasant."

"Like Beaufort?" Harry growled. "You are entirely too chummy with that wanker."

Draco laughed. "Beaufort is a charming bloke," he corrected. "Darkly handsome and witty. If he weren't on his way to Azkaban, I would seriously consider breaking my Quidditch player tradition for him, now that the two of us are finished."

Harry lifted his head to stare at Draco. Draco's handsome, angular face was open and unapologetic.

"Now that the two of us are finished?" Harry asked in a low, demanding voice.

Draco sighed. "Harry, we've been over this. We are over. It was wonderful while it lasted, but I told you that once we'd completed the mission you would return to your wife and this would end."

"What if I don't want us to be over?" Harry demanded.

"I don't care what you want. You will go back to your wife and I will not be your bit on the side," Draco said forcefully, his voice rising. "Tonight shouldn't have happened. It was a mistake." The blond sighed again. "You really should go home," he continued in a softer voice. "You will be missed."

"I told Ginny that the meeting would drag until very late and that I probably wouldn't make it home," Harry said. "Let me stay the night," he added in a whisper.

Looking defeated, Draco acquiesced. "All right. But this is the last time. It will not happen again."

"That's what you said last time," Harry retorted as he happily wound himself around Draco once more. "Go to sleep now."

"This time I mean it," Draco answered, always keen to have the last word, and then fell silent.

After a while Harry felt Draco's heartbeat slow down and heard his breathing even out and deepen as he fell asleep. Eyes open in the darkness, Harry stayed awake, thinking and feeling. He felt more at home in Draco's sumptuous king-sized bed in the manor than he did in his own at home. He didn't want to lose this, but he didn't seem to have a choice.

*****

The sun was low in the sky, filling the garden with warm reddish colours. Draco lounged on one of the hard antique benches one of his ancestors had installed and admired the beautiful view he had inherited. His mother had finally returned from her extended trip and was currently pottering around in the house. Scorpius was in the far end of the garden, playing by the lake. It was nice to have a full house. It might not be as full as he would like, but it would have to do. It had only been three weeks since Harry left and Draco found that he missed him.

With his children home and the mission drawing to a close, Harry had returned home, as was only logical, and Draco's life had returned to normal, or an approximation of what was normal.

Their mission had almost been completed, and the Aurors were in the process of apprehending the lower level members who had been responsible for all the attacks, without blowing Draco's cover. Draco was actually rather impressed by the Ministry's efficiency and discretion. No one from the inner circle of the Sons of Merlin had yet suspected him in the least. But Robards had still not informed either him or Harry when the final sting operation would take place, when all the members of the inner circle would be arrested in one impressive swoop.

Despite the arrests and the impending doom of the group, the meetings went by surprisingly smoothly. No one seemed to suspect that they were actually harbouring two vipers. It was all very anti-climatic. Draco wouldn't have been so unwilling in the beginning if he had known that it would be so easy being a spy. Somehow he suspected, though, that it had been harder for Severus Snape.

About once a week he was invited to a Sons of Merlin meeting, and Harry came with him in his snake form. That was three times so far. Three times he had seen Harry since the night he'd told the other man it was over... Three times he had given in to temptation and let Harry insinuate his way into his bed again, even though he had strictly told himself that it was for the best to end their affair. Three times he had told Harry so far that this was the absolute last time and it would, could, not happen again.

Draco couldn't help himself; Harry always wrecked his carefully laid plans and cut through all his logical arguments and determination with his own irrepressible stubbornness and wilfulness. Whenever he pitted himself against the other man, Harry always won. Even now, when he knew that if they kept this up it would only end badly. If he hadn't managed to keep it a secret from Asteria, how would Harry manage to keep it a secret from his own wife? He had never wanted to become the third party, he still didn't, but he didn't have the strength to push Harry away even if he knew it was for his own good.

Draco looked at the wispy pinking clouds that streaked the sky. He knew he had to eventually find a way to end it once and for all, but in truth he didn't want to. In a few short months the other man had wormed his way into Draco's life and affections. Draco had got used to him and he liked having him around. He found that Harry filled a gap in his heart that he thought would never be filled again. Draco shook his head ruefully; thoughts like these were only idle daydreams and wishful thinking.

With a muted pop Barter appeared next to him. "Master Malfoy, sir. Harry Potter is here. He is wanting you."

Draco frowned, perplexed. The next meeting with the Sons of Merlin was two days away and he had expressly told Harry not to visit him, especially when his mother and son were home.

"I'll meet him in the garden," Draco answered brusquely. "Show him the way."

When Harry came round the garden path into Draco's view a couple of minutes later, Draco noted with surprise that he had brought one of his sons with him.

"Hello," Harry greeted him cheerfully. "This is my son, Albus."

Draco returned the greeting somewhat stiffly. Albus had to be the younger of the sons; he seemed the same age as his own son. He had a bright, eager face, dark hair and his father's eyes, complete with round glasses.

"Albus has come to see Scorpius," Harry said, as if that explained his own presence.

"Scorpius is down the end of the garden, by the lake. You can go and find him, if you want," Draco told the boy.

With a hasty thank-you and the typical exuberance of a twelve-year-old, Harry's son pelted down the garden path, his bellows of "Scorpius!" filling the garden. Draco watched him go, wondering when the awkwardness with Harry would start.

"Did you know our sons were friends?" Harry asked conversationally, coming to stand behind Draco, so close that Draco could feel the other's body heat.

Draco did know, of course, but he failed to see how that was relevant to their situation. "Harry, why are you here?" he asked roughly, moving away from Harry and turning round to look at him.

Harry combed his hand through his perpetually messy hair and for a moment looked uncomfortable and at a loss for words. "I talked to Robards last night," he said finally.

He proceeded to explain that the Head Auror had been in contact with the Heads of various other European Wizarding Law Enforcement agencies about the matter of the potentially dangerous underground groups affiliated with Volfgang Varder's Wizarding Pride that sprung up all over the continent. It seemed like the British weren't the only ones to have an undercover agent within one of the groups, but Draco's success was singular.

"They have a joint international operation planned," Harry said, excitement shining in his eyes, "to uncover the hidden knot of wizards behind all the other groups, the ones organising and coordinating the whole movement. And we are to be their star agents!"

They were to wrangle their way up the hierarchy until they managed to get an interview with the innermost circle itself and find the names of all the other masterminds beside Volfgang Varder himself. They were to have the support of all the other co-operating Ministries and their secret agents to complete the task.

"Won't it be exciting?" Harry asked, looking like a little boy rather than a grown man. "We will get to go to Europe as super undercover spies."

Harry would be the most undercover of all. He would go in his Animagus form. No one but Draco, Robards and the other Heads would know, not even the agents they would be working with.

Once Draco had got the hang of it, he found that he enjoyed the intrigue and underhandedness of being a spy. The Sons of Merlin were nothing like the Death Eaters had been in sheer paranoia and sadistic brutality. Comparatively, they seemed almost like a gentleman's club. Most importantly of all, there was not a Dark Lord of Voldemort's calibre in sight, and he doubted Volfgang Varder would come near. And even if he did, Draco had the ultimate Dark Lord Slayer on his side. What Harry was talking about did seem like an exciting adventure, and what's more, it would mean spending lots more time in Harry's company.

It all seemed so perfect, so easy and perfect. Too much so to be true. Draco let the images of the possible future grow in his mind, bright and promising, like iridescent soap bubbles, before he resolutely burst them. He turned his back on Harry.

"You know I can't accept this offer, tempting as it is. I told you that we are through. Working together so closely again is hardly a good idea," he bit out as he turned away.

Harry laid a warm hand on his shoulder.

"I asked Ginny for a divorce," he said quietly.

Draco willed himself not to turn around and stared resolutely ahead instead at the tiny forms of their children silhouetted against the pinking dusk sky as they played, trying not to tremble.

"I didn't do it for you," Harry continued. "I did it for me, and for Ginny. We couldn't go on like that any more. It wasn't fair to either of us. She wasn't happy. She said she had been afraid for years that it would come to this."

Harry took a deep breath and tightened his hand on Draco's shoulder, bringing himself even closer, until his chest brushed against Draco's back.

"I didn't do it for you," Harry went on, "but I won't deny that I was thinking of you. I know it won't be easy: the divorce, the children, people finding out, but still I want to try. I want you, Draco. Could we make a go of this? Could there be an us? What do you say, Draco, will you give us a chance?"

Harry's grip had become so tight it was almost painful and Draco's trembling had become obvious, as his mind was a maelstrom of confusing thoughts and emotions. He hardly knew what to say because he hardly knew what he thought or what he wanted. He clenched his hands together until his knuckles turned white.

Harry pulled him back into an embrace and moved his hands from Draco's shoulders slowly down his arms, till they encircled him, resting on his clasped hands. Gently, Harry loosened them from their painfully tight hold and took them in his own warm, calloused ones.

"Please," he whispered against Draco's ear, his breath warm and dear, before dipping his head slightly to kiss Draco's neck gently, tenderly.

Draco was lost. Harry won.

"Okay," he breathed, voice weak and shaky. "Okay," he repeated, a bit more steadily, as if to confirm his decision to himself.

He let himself fall back into Harry's solid embrace. The man behind him continued laying soft, little butterfly kisses along his neck and under the lapel of his robes.

A childish scream of merriment cut through the peaceful evening atmosphere as the sky continued to darken.

"Harry," Draco hissed urgently. "Stop! The children will see us."

Harry laughed, low and rich, the rumble in his chest a deep, comforting feeling against Draco's back. He wrapped himself even more securely around Draco and transformed.

Suddenly Draco found himself with a brightly coloured adder wrapped around his shoulders. Harry was large for an adder, and just the perfect size to wrap around Draco's shoulders. Draco thought he made a very beautiful snake; he was a deep black with bright, golden yellow zigzagging markings, a dainty, pointy head and glittering eyes that betrayed a singular intelligence. The adder flicked out a thin forked tongue to lick the dip of his throat, and Draco's startled and joyous laugh echoed into the twilight. The cool, sleek weight of Harry-the-snake around his shoulders felt as comfortable and comforting as the warm, hard form of Harry-the-human wrapped around him.

Fin