A Throne of Blood and Stars

Chapter Forty-Four

The Gryffindor moves closer to the tub, carefully steps in and turns, holding his hands out for Draco to take.

They don't break eye contact, both boys moving slowly, cautiously, as if around a wounded animal in case there's a sign of misdirection. But Draco feels as if he's soaring. He has his mate right in from of him, he's showing off, he thinks. Presenting.

The water temperature is perfect. The size of the tub fills up to his waist, and Draco turns, moving to lay his weight on Harry's chest. Harry leisurely moves back with his arms wound around his mate, to the stone bench inside the tub, and he lays Draco's back over his chest.

"Thank you," Draco says quietly. "For taking care of me."

His arms tighten around the Slytherin and he lays his palm openly on Draco's flat abdomen, pulling him closer. "You don't have to thank me."

"I know."

He watches as Draco lifts a hand and swishes his finger, and there's jars that open and close, with ingredients flying out gracefully and landing in the pool. The first thing to touch the water is a white powder that makes the bath look like milk, and the next is dried petals. The last is a liquid that Harry thinks is soap, but when it lands in the water, he's hit with the smell of lavender.

"Ever the royal," Harry chuckles.

"Anyone who bathes without bath milk powder is a plebeian to me."

He lays his head back on his mate's shoulder, sighing in satisfaction as Harry starts littering little kisses on the junction of his neck and shoulder. Just small touches of lips to skin, where he can feel it; know it's happening.

"I suppose that'd make me a plebeian, too."

"Not anymore."

Draco feels Harry smile against his skin before he's moving his arms, looping his fingers over Draco's and turning both of his arms to face the ceiling. He looks down at his skin, his pale, unmarked skin.

"It really is gone."

"You made it disappear," Harry murmurs in wonder. "You harnessed magic with your bare hands and rid your system of Dark Magic."

"Easy as pie," Draco grins. He turns in Harry's arms.

"Draco, you could have died."

"A small feat compared to what you have done."

"It's not funny," Harry frowns. "I was seriously worried, bond or not."

The Slytherin chances a glance down at Harry's red lips. "Show me."

Harry reels his head back and stares, surprised. "What?"

"Show me. Show me how worried you were."

"You want to have sex right after you almost died? What has gotten into you?"

Draco ignores him, instead moves forward to latch his lips onto the skin on Harry's chest. "I could have died. And I would have done so with many regrets."

The Gryffindor gives him a hard glare. "It's a process, Draco. We can't just have sex. And we need to be in the same mindset, remember? Plus, I have many questions."

"Ask me later," Draco mumbles. He rises to his knees and the feeling of confidence blossoming in his chest all of a sudden increases. "And you need not prepare me."

Harry frowns, his eyes following Draco as he moves around. He opens his mouth to speak when all of a sudden Draco sinks down onto him and he gasps instead, his hands flying up to clutch his mate's sides.