Title: Breaking the Fever (1/1)

Author: Vera

Rated: PG

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me and I make no money off them.

Summary: Returning home stirs up Harry's memories.

Pairing: Harry/Draco/Lucius

Archive: sure

Feedback: Accepted with relish.

A/N: This was written to get out my lovey-dovey Lucius muse, so I can make him a proper bastard in a longer piece. Phobic!Lucius warning.

Climbing the Grand Staircase was still an awesome task, even after years of living in the mansion. His thighs ached and his breath came hard and fast by the time he reached the last step. There were easier ways of getting around the house, but Harry had never been one for easier. Draco teased him about that all the time, especially when he would arrive sweaty and tired at the top of the stair while his lover would already be lounging on the bed.

That made it all the more enticing to the stairs slow, letting the burn in his body build, pleasure in tandem with pain. This house and those in it had taught him that and that's why he made it his home.

Home. He had just come for Ron and Hermione's home. The one they had set up only a few miles from The Burrow. It wasn't the rambling mansion that Harry was now wandering through, but it was of respectable size and made him wonder if 'Mione was going to try to keep up with Molly. He couldn't see her with that large a brood. With little Harry already nine years old and his sisters Georgia and Alba five and three respectively, the brainchild of Gryffindor looked as if she were about to drop dead of exhaustion. Ron didn't seem to have a problem with his growing household and didn't seem disinclined to another baby.

The chaos of the house had been a pleasant change. The manor had gained an eerie silence over the past few years as fewer and fewer people visited. The reporters had all completely vanished and the remaining Death Eaters still sniffing around for support had met with a very cold shoulder. The Granger-Weaseley's weren't particularly partial to visiting.

"It's so...chilly there." Hermione had offered weakly when he pressed her for a reason. "Ancient. There's so much history and sadness. I know you love it, Harry and I can see why, but I just don't feel welcome there. Not by you or Draco....there's something else."

Sirius and Remus hadn't been able to come up with anything better.

"We like having you here." Remus said carefully.

"You should bring Draco. He's welcome here."

Which was nice to hear. But wasn't much of an explanation.

He remembered when he first came to the mansion, he'd felt the same way. For vastly different reasons. He'd been nervous, clinging to Draco in a way the blond did not appreciate. The rooms had been too large and the lay out too confusing. One could wander for days in the Malfoy homestead and still not come back to the place they started.

That was over a decade ago and now, Harry knew exactly where everything was. The space was...comforting. There was always someplace to hide. It was his friend’s homes that seemed wrong. Too close and confining, especially Ron and Hermione's. He loved them dearly, but sleeping on a sofa for two nights in a row and having to retell the story of the Last Battle, complete with Uncle Draco's heroic deeds, nearly three times to a bunch of red headed, too bright for their own good kids was enough to make him forgive Snape.

Not that Snape was around to be forgiven. As always, he bowed to the man's portrait. It had hung outside of their bedroom since the greasy git had died in the Last Battle. In the beginning, the portrait had barely moved, a stern gaze into eternity. It became a game to Harry to stir a reaction from the stiff portrait. Eventually, Snape started growling at him and after a while, took an interest in the table of potion ingredients set out before him. Now, Snape returned Harry's bow with an ironic bend of the head.

"Asleep?" He asked. Snape nodded again, a small smirk on his face.

With a sigh, he braved himself against opening the door to his bedroom. The door swung open with a breath of air. It was dark, heavy velvet curtains had been pulled closed. In his absence, the room had acquired a heady musky smell. He was the one who insisted on fresh air and sunshine.

He muttered a tight 'lumos' which lit only his chair. It was the large soft one that he had stolen from one the Green Parlor because it was a little worn and gave in the right places. He pulled it closer to the bed and just enjoyed the sight laid out in front of him.

The two blondes didn't stir with his entrance. Not surprising considering they'd probably worked themselves into exhaustion one way or another. They were curled tightly together under the duvet, obviously chilled despite the warmth in the room. Sometimes, Harry was sure that they were cold blooded, especially in the night when they tended to curl around him, leeching his abundant warmth like friendly snakes on a rock.

Draco stirred, pressing closer around his father, rubbing his head on the bared chest he'd been using as a pillow. As he grew older, Draco looked more and more like his father. In fact, he encouraged the association. As he rose in the ranks of the Ministry, it helped for some of the older members to remember the cool efficiency his father had brought to work. Draco's war hero status protected him from any negative associations of course. So he'd grown out his hair and developed the same long stride.

Although, Harry could have told him that he didn't need to do any of those things. Draco took after his father in a hundred little ways. Their speech, the quirky head toss/shrug when they thought something over and the eyebrow twitch that Harry could never ever manage. Draco unconsciously echoed his father in a lot of things.

And sometimes, his father echoed him. Like taking Harry to bed, scowling when he didn't get his way or referring to Sirius and Remus as "the randy bitch and his tamed wolf". Something Harry had attempted to discourage in both of them, but had apparently failed.

Until recently, he thought he had maintained a relative personal purity when it came to Malfoy mannerisms, but it seemed even he could not escape.

"You're doing it again." Ron had accused last night at dinner.

"Doing what?"

"Eating like Draco. Cutting everything into tiny bites and eating about half of it. At this rate, you're going to be thinner then he is and last time he was over, 'Mione saw his ribs."

Which was an exaggeration. But not that large of one. Neither of the Malfoy men ate a great deal and it seemed Harry had picked up the habit. He was turning into a Malfoy...with a grin he twisted the bone ring on his finger, knowing full well that under the covers Draco and Lucius sported identical jewelry. It was a safe enough commitment. Everyone knew about Harry and Draco, there had even been a formal ceremony some years back. Lucius rarely left the estate anymore. Everyone had seemed to have forgotten he was still alive which was for the best really.

When he did go out, it was under a guise and the ring would go on a chain around his neck. It was hell the first year as he rattled around the mansion, generally being disgruntled. Luckily, Draco had stumbled across some old papers that apparently would lead to a huge leap in magic theory and Lucius had turned scholar ever since. He'd actually been asked to lecture in several other countries. He'd gone when either Harry or Draco could spare the time to go with him.

The older wizard had come into a strange phobia after his year spent in Azkaban. It was in the time before Harry had visited the manor, when he and Draco were still only tentatively dating that using his leverage to spring his boyfriend's father as a favor. A year in Azkaban was enough to change anyone, he'd reasoned at the time and if he'd known how right he was, he would have tried to get Lucius free sooner.

Ever since leaving prison, Lucius couldn't stand to be left alone. He never said anything as it would have been construed as weakness, but he developed stalling tactics, wheedling whole extra days from guests to stay with him in his empty home. If left to his own devices by himself, he would wind up curled in a window, silent as stone and dead eyes.

That was when Draco had returned to the nest, forcing Harry to follow in the foreboding manor. He'd been oblivious for months as to how Draco was keeping his Father's company. He had stumbled upon them in his endless quest to find the closest bathroom.

It had been almost innocent, a kiss in the hallways, Draco on his toes, arms wrapped around the older man's neck. They kissed like old lovers and clung to each other like two souls lost in a storm.

"Shit." He'd said, breaking the tableau.

"Harry." Draco hadn't flinched or been ashamed. He'd only untangled himself from his father's embrace and dared to look sad.

"How could you? With your own Father?! When you asked me to live here...for him! And had be take him out of prison! Merlin, what an idiot I am!"

"I love him. " Silver eyes rested on his face, searching. "I'm not sorry for it. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to lose you. If you can't take it then go."

That simple. He chose his kin over his lover and for a long minute, Harry couldn't find his voice. His throat tightened. Unwillingly, his eyes fell on Lucius. The older man's look mirrored his son, profoundly sad, but not at all sorry.

"I'm going to leave now." He said to no one at all and very quietly made his way out of the manor. He had no troubles finding the exit as if the house itself was attempting to expel him from it's depths. He'd Apperated the moment the wards ended.

He spent the next three weeks in Sirius and Remus' guest room. During the day, he went to Hogwart's to teach as usual, but the nights were a torment. Underneath the thinnest blanket, he tossed and turned burning up. He would sweat until it seemed there was no water left in his body and his eyes would run. Images of Draco raced through his fevered mind, but mostly of the blonde's cooling touch. The double image of father and son became a frequent one in his nightly struggle. After a second week of nearly no sleep, he began to reevaluate the situation.

By the end of the third, he wanted only to sleep in his lover's arms again and if that meant sharing then so be it. He left in late evening, approaching the mansion from a mile away. The doors were squeaky and heavy under his touch, but he fought his way in and began to ascend the Grand Staircase. Each step was torture on his sleep deprived body, each landing a mockery of completion. He had to pause at the top for several moments to regain himself, his body temperature rising higher from the exercise.

The Master Bedroom was only down the hall, instinctively he knew they were there. Without hesitation he entered and found them just as he had today. Curled around each other in darkness, quietly cold. Perfect bookends and Harry wanted nothing more then to join them in slumber. He wet his lips and spoke quietly,

"Forgive me." He kneeled down beside the bed, resting his head in his arms and watched them shiver and wrap into each other. "I did not understand."

"Shut up and come to bed, Potter." Two sets of eyes glittering in the dark. He shed his clothes and crawled, a little ashamed between them.

Strong arms pulled him in, wrapping the duvet around him, pulling him close. They pulled his fever out of him in the night and woke feeling renewed.

"Are you back?" Draco asked when he awoke.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I didn't understand."

"Forgiven. You'll stay here? With us?" A question behind a question.

"As long as you'll have me."

Best choice of his life to date. Even better then not using Avada Kedvra on Voldemort and 'accidentally' dying Pansy's hair pink in Potions. Even Snape had cracked a smile over that one.

He shifted in his chair, marveling at his own fatigue. It was midday when he'd arrived back home and he hadn't delayed in coming to join his lovers. He knew, in the back of his head, that he was getting old. Fine lines were starting to appear around his eyes and after climbing the stairs, his right knee ached from an old poorly healed wound.

Decided, he rose, peeling off layers of clothes until he could slide underneath the covers bare and luxuriating in the smooth silk of Draco's skin and fine linens.

"Mmph...thought you were just going to stare all night." At once, Draco was liquid around him.

"S'not night. If you opened the curtains once and a while, you'd know that."

"We did open them...I think." He pulled a little and Harry climbed over him, to settle in his favorite position between the two men. Thin strong arms embraced him from behind. A swift, light nibble on his neck produced a quiet moan.

"We didn't. We took a weekend off from Gryffindor insistence that there must be a day and a night." Lucius purred in his ear.

"I'm afraid to ask if you left the bed at all or is that why Snape was looking particularly coy?"

Draco ran a hand down his side, his head tilting up for a kiss which Harry graciously bestowed.

"We were very busy as a matter of fact. The Ministry kept forgetting I was away for the weekend and sent owls every hour. And Father is apparently hot on the trail of a new discovery, I could barely tear him away for sleep."

Harry snorted.

"I wasn't born yesterday." He reminded. "But whatever you did, I'm glad to find you here. I haven't slept properly since my Friday send away."

"They made you sleep on the sofa again?" Another shoulder nip.

"Where would they put you if Draco ever took them up on their offer?"

Which he wouldn't. Harry and Draco went out on their own on occasion and they had visited the Granger-Weasely's, but never over night. Luciushad grown accustomed to the stern maid they had hired, ostensibly to over see the house elves. In reality, she was paid to be in whatever room Lucius was and occasionally make a bit of noise to let him know she was there. It was an adequate system until nightfall. Neither younger man wanted Lucius sleeping with someone else, but he wouldn't sleep at all without someone beside him.

"I suppose they'd make the children sleep in the same room or something." He shrugged. "I think they believe that after living like I did during the war I could sleep any where."

"But you don't." Draco finished for him, already shifting into a comfortable sleep position. "You sleep with us."

Harry smiled as Lucius shoved his cold nose into the back of his neck. Already, he could feel the extra warmth from the staircase bleeding out of him and before he was able to drift asleep, he could feel the cold seeping into his bone.

In the silence between three breaths, the manor settled. It was a family home and it had been constructed to protect the Malfoy's as long as their line should continue. Even if this was the end, the mansion was intent on making it the sweetest. It had struggled against the scarred one's entrance, pushing him away. But he'd meant no harm and brought much needed laughter to marble hall. After his entrance, life had grown a little more wild. No need to over do it, of course. Must protect the Malfoy men from the rambunctious invaders who occasionally crossed the doors. Where once, hundreds of guests would gather, the mansion had learned that true Malfoy happiness came in the pause between words, in private dark spaces.