Fic: Awhile Back & Down the Road

[nursedarry]

Title: Awhile Back and Down the Road
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco (Ron/Hermione, Neville/Luna, Lucius/Narcissa)
Summary: A young Jedi and his crew get lost in hyperspace and end up on an unknown, almost uninhabited planet. It’s the perfect chance to train in the Jedi arts and fall in love. THIS ISN'T A CROSSOVER, THIS IS JUST SILLY.
Rating: R
Warning(s): A little evil and a lot of crack.
Word Count: 8899
Author's Notes: Written for hd_smoochfest 2010. If you’re looking for references/dialogue (and there’s tonnes), this is Old School Star Wars. Huge thanks to my betas delphipsmith and cassie_black12, and a big wave to my Farmboy fangirls, who gave this their seal of approval.



∞-------------

“What a piece of junk!” Harry exclaimed and reattached the random piece of titanium that had begun curling away from the airlock’s control panel. He might have been an ingénue from a remote backwater system, but he did know a couple of things: like how to fly and what to fly.

“Mate, are you insulting my ride?” Ron looked up at the bodged welding that held together the entrance hatch of his ship.

Harry followed Ron’s gaze. “Er, no Ron. I guess I was just expecting something...”

“What?”

“Classier,” Hermione said, walking by them.

“You’ll learn to love it, Harry!” Fred said and he winked at Harry as he passed them on the ramp. “We’ve made a few modifications.”

“Yeah, modifications,” George echoed, guffawing loudly.

Following Ron and the twins, Harry entered the ship, curious, but anxious — after all, Ron’s reputation for being something of a pirate preceded him. Harry should count himself lucky he’d made it this far, despite Dumbledore’s assurances of Ron’s abilities to fly the thing. Perhaps practice made perfect; from what Harry’d been told, every ship Ron had ever owned looked like the mechanical version of a patchwork quilt.

Harry was finally leaving his past. The last of his family – if he could call them that — was dead, killed by the evil emperor Voldemort’s army of Death Eater storm troopers. His home was in ruins and he had no reason to stay in this part of the galaxy anymore. Not now that he, Neville and Luna had found Dumbledore, met up with Ron, the twins and Hagrid, and rescued Hermione from Azkaban Space Station.

Oh, well, Harry thought. I’ve got an experienced Jedi mentor and good friends for my family now. The corners of his mouth turned down as he thought about what he didn’t have, though, what he wanted: someone special... Someone to laugh with, someone to wake up with, someone to fu—

“Don’t you worry, Harry,” Hagrid said as he stooped to enter the cramped entry corridor. “You know I’ll be keeping my eye on Ron; won’t let him do anythin’ too reckless.” The hairy half-Giant clapped Harry on the back, nearly sending the young Jedi sprawling face-first into a bulkhead.

∞-------------

“Harry, I’m sorry about your aunt and uncle,” Hermione said. She draped his cloak around his shoulders.

“Oh, thanks, Hermione. I know they didn’t deserve to die like that, but I really didn’t like them very much.”

“Voldemort did some terrible things, I know. But remember you’re not alone.”

“I know, but it’s difficult sometimes: I see the way you and Ron look at each other and there’s Neville and Luna... There’s not being alone and not being alone, if you know what I mean.”

Hermione was so long in replying that Harry thought maybe he had embarrassed her.

“I know what you mean, Harry.” She gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek and left just as the twins entered the social area.

“You need a nice game of holographic chess to take your mind off recent events, Harry,” Fred said.

“Er...guys, I’m not very good at chess,” Harry admitted, as the twins fired up the game on the table in front of him. “Your brother’s tried to teach me, but I’m rubbish.”

“Doesn’t matter with this game,” George said. “The pieces do all the work for you.” He indicated the control panel with which he was currently fiddling. “See, you choose what they look like, what they’re wearing, and you can even set it so that you don’t have to think about the moves.”

“Not the chess moves, at least, eh, George?” Fred winked and nudged his brother in a conspiratorial manner.

“Right, Fred.” George nudged back. “Here, watch this.” He pressed a final button and the pieces sprang into existence. The two pieces representing the kings looked suspiciously like the twins, the queens were Twi'lek slave girls (complete with gold lamè bikinis) and the remainder of the pieces — depending on the side —were either Imperial storm troopers or Corellian pilots. The pawns were all female Jedi (sans robes).

Fred nodded appreciatively at his brother’s creative slant on the game and set it in motion. When one side’s piece captured another, rather than killing it or kicking it off the board, the two pieces began to snog heavily.

“We’ll leave you to it, Harry,” Fred said. He handed Harry the control panel and followed his brother out of the social area just as the moaning started up over the tinny sound of the game’s cheesy porn music.

Harry glanced down at the board, then at the control mechanism. Sighing, he adjusted a knob on the panel and all of the pieces on the board changed into men. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t disable the music.

∞-------------

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” Harry asked the assembled crew as they looked out the main view-screen of the Centennial Cannon.

“No,” said several voices at once.

“Where are we, then?” Harry asked.

“Er, Dumbledore knows...” Ron said a little sheepishly.

Hermione turned to the old man. “Do you know where we are?”

“Yes.”

The twins looked at each other and then at the Jedi Master. “Where are we?” they asked in unison.

“We’re here,” Dumbledore responded.

Now everyone in the cabin turned to look at everyone else. There was a long silence which Ron eventually broke. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Hagrid scratched his shaggy head. “Er, where exactly is here?”

“Right where we need to be,” Luna clarified with an enigmatic smile.

Harry was getting confused. “You mean lost?”

“Yes,” said Luna and Dumbledore.

“What?” Ron was even more confused than Harry.

“Everyone, just relax.” Hermione was the voice of reason. “Luna told Harry she needed to find Dumbledore and you did, right?”

“I see where you’re going with this.” Harry nodded and continued the story, “And he told us we needed to get those plans back to Hermione.”

Ron turned in his pilot’s seat and regarded Harry. “Mate, those weren’t plans; that was a homework assignment.”

“Whatever. But you have to admit, he was right about that,” Harry insisted.

“Yeah, okay,” Ron admitted.

Harry continued. “And Dumbledore told us to take Ron’s ship—”

“Our ship.”

“— the twins’ ship—”

“It’s my ship; I won it fair and square in that game of Sabacc, remember?” Ron was adamant.

“Hardly. You said you’d tell mum what we did to her favourite pair of knitting needles if we didn’t sell it to you.”

“Hermione, back me up on this...”Ron implored. He opened a packet of crisps abruptly, spraying salt and spices all over the console.

“Not a chance, Ronald.”

“Anyway, Luna’s now told us to go wherever it is we’re going, and I think we should do what she says.” Harry said as diplomatically as possible. He knew most of the crew thought Luna orbited another planet, but she hadn’t been wrong yet.

“Luna, what’s so important about this place?” Hermione asked.

“It’s very treacherous,” Luna replied.

Hermione looked beseechingly at Neville who said, “Luna, I think they want a little more information than that.”

“Is it to rescue a princess?” Ron asked.

“Hey, you got the princess in our last adventure, Ron!” Harry interjected.

Hermione didn’t look up from her book this time. “I’m not a princess.”

“Well, yes...” Harry stammered. “I was speaking figuratively.”

Ron looked up and said around a mouthful of crisps, “You are a girl, though.”

“Well spotted, Ronald,” Hermione muttered.

“Guys, stay on target,” Fred said. “We need a reason to go to this treacherous place, Luna. What’s in it for us?”

“Hmmm? Oh, enlightenment, mortal peril, true love — the usual.”

“Luna, you’re not exactly selling this,” George said, tapping something into the ship’s computer.

Luna smiled serenely and glided off the bridge.

∞-------------

The ship came out of hyperspace and immediately rocked and banked sharply, waking the crew. Ron jabbed at the com in his tiny cabin. “What the hell was that?”

“We’re being fired on,” said one of his brothers. “You’d better get up here. I think someone wants to talk to you. There’s a small heavily-armed one-man ship out there.”

“Angle the deflector shields, keep him at bay,” called Ron as he tripped into his clothes. Hermione just watched him with a slight smile. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Ron stalked onto the bridge of the Cannon, his game face firmly in place. “What’ve we got?”

“He’s made contact. Calls himself Snape. Some kind of bounty hunter.”

“Shit. How the hells did he find me?” Ron squeezed by Hagrid, sat down and took over the controls.

“You’re not exactly the stealthy type, bro. I reckon anyone could find you just by asking around the nearest cantina.”

“Mr Weasley,” A voice dripping with menace spoke over the ship’s speakers. “I am boarding this ship and taking you prisoner.”

“You what?” Ron said, stalling for time.

“A price has been put on your head and I intend to collect.”

“I haven’t done anything!” Ron argued.

“You can tell that to Dolores Umbridge when I take you in. Evidently you owe her quite a lot of money.”

“Bro, who don’t you owe money to?” George asked.

“You should have set up your own business like we did,” said Fred.

“Yes, made yourself respectable,” continued George.

“Shut up,” Ron gave his brothers a two-fingered salute. “And, Snape, you can tell that slimy piece of worm-ridden filth that she’ll get nothing from me!”

“Yes, it rather sounds as though nothing is all that you have to give,” Snape said mockingly. “If you’re not going to pay her the money you owe her, Captain Weasley, I’m sure she’ll be happy to take your ship.”

Fred, George, Ron and Hagrid all protested wildly; there was no way that pink blob was getting her hands on the Cannon.

“Have you got the co-ordinates sorted to this planet of Luna’s yet?” Ron asked out of the side of his mouth.

“Just gettin’ ‘em now for ye,” replied Hagrid as quietly as was possible for the giant co-pilot.

“Er, sorry, Snape,” Ron said, and he pushed the Cannon into hyperdrive.

Snape’s small ship shuddered almost to the point of disintegration as it was buffeted violently by the waves of turbulence left by the Cannon in normal space.

∞-------------

Snape cursed loudly as everything he’d not stowed fell on his head. But rather than report back to Umbridge on his inability to acquire Weasley or his ship, he set course for the Imperial capital. Certainly Voldemort would some have some work for him.

∞-------------

“Ron, where the hell are we?” Harry cursed as he inspected the ship’s coordinates.

“Right where Luna sent us!” Ron averred, refusing to take the blame for their latest adventure.

“And you thought this would be a suitable place to stop and make repairs? Did it occur to you we might need to leave in a hurry? After all, there was a mention of treacherous conditions and mortal peril, if memory serves.”

“Harry, anywhere we are is a suitable place to stop for repairs,” Fred reminded him. “This ship breaks down at a moment’s notice, remember? You should count yourself lucky we were all standing upright when we landed.”

“I wasn’t,” Luna said as she entered the bridge. “I was on the toilet.” Yet another uncomfortable silence followed, as it did so many of Luna’s pronouncements.

Hagrid finally broke the silence. “Right, I guess I’ll be stayin’ behind to make repairs. And at least one of you lot should be stayin’ with me as well.” He pointed to the trio of ginger-haired Corellians.

“We’ll stay,” the twins said in unison. Ron glared at them.

“Hermione, what can you tell us about this system? Do you know it?” Harry asked, keen to change the subject before the familial fireworks began in earnest.

“If we’re where the navcomp says, this planet has no inhabitants...” The assembled crew breathed a sigh of relief – until Hermione carried on with her tutorial. “...except for the family of Lucius Malfoy. If I’m not mistaken, he owns the entire planet.”

The crew’s previous collective sigh changed into gasps and groans of dismay. Harry glanced at the view screen as he strove to remember Luna’s words about what he would find here: Enlightenment? Doubtful. Mortal peril? Typical. True love? What the fuck?

Luna also looked out the view screen. “He has a pretty planet,” she observed.

Indeed, they had landed(ish) in a small grassy clearing surrounded by a forest of tall trees. The clear blue sky could be seen peeking through the branches.

“He’s rich,” George said. “He can afford a pretty planet.”

“From what I know of it, this is the only pretty part. The rest is surrounded by impenetrable swampland.” Hermione said. “Oh, except the polar regions which are covered by impenetrable ice fields.”

Harry summed up. “So what you’re saying, Hermione, is that we either try to make friends with the Malfoys or move the ship to another part of the planet to effect repairs?”

“Mate, we already know Lucius isn’t here. He’s back on Azkaban Space Station. He was the one who captured Hermione and took her there.”

“Yes, but he still has followers. And family. Who knows what kind of reception we’ll get here. I appreciate you not wanting to fix your ship—”

“Our ship.”

“THE ship,” Harry cut the twins off before they could get started again, “in less-than-ideal surroundings, but I think the chances of a warm welcome are less than good here.”

“Wow, you’re really taking Luna’s vision seriously,” Ron said.

“I’ve no choice; there’s obviously a reason why we should be here,” Harry explained. “Voldemort wants me dead, and she and Dumbledore and you lot are the only ones standing in his way. I’d be stupid not to.”

“Okay,” Ron sighed and looked at his girlfriend and crew. “Let’s get going.”

∞-------------

The blue flickering image of his servant knelt on the dais before Voldemort. “Lucius,” said the Dark Lord. “Your plan to kidnap the girl in order to capture the son-of-Potter has failed.”

Lucius appeared to shudder, although that could have been an effect of the projection. “M’lord, I—” He began in a supplicating tone.

“Silence!” Voldemort commanded. “I am done with you.”

Lucius’ image bowed its head and disappeared at a wave of Voldemort’s hand. The Dark Lord turned and focussed his attention upon the bounty hunter who stood just out of view of the mechanism which had projected Voldemort’s image to his servant on Azkaban.

∞-------------

“Let’s go, Harry. They can watch us from the trees,” Dumbledore said. Harry turned from where he had been trying to see Hermione, Neville, and Ron hiding in the foliage, and he and Dumbledore made their way to the front of the ornate dwelling deep in the woods.

The door swung slowly – and ominously – open before either had a chance to knock. A small creature with long pointed ears, leaning on a stick, looked up at them with a blank expression. “Expecting you, they are. Come this way, you must.” The creature turned and limped slowly into the dwelling, its stick tapping beside it, and before Harry could protest, Dumbledore guided him within as well.

They entered an ornate classical-style sitting room, which looked quite out of place amid the forest which could be seen through the French doors.

“About time, too. Really, Mother, I thought a Jedi Master would have a better sense of punctuality.” This sneering remark came from a lanky blond boy about Harry’s age who stood looking haughtily at the two newcomers. His comments were directed to the handsome woman dressed in a pale blue gown standing behind him, who evidently was his mother.

“Manners, Draco. We engaged Master Dumbledore to train you and he has arrived. It’s bad form to begin a lesson with an insult.”

If the boy — Draco —heard her, he gave no indication. Instead he strode over to Harry and looked him up and down, scowling. Harry refused to be intimidated, and stared into the grey eyes, making note of the hostility radiating from the other boy as strongly as the alluring scent from his skin and hair. Whatever the boy bathed in was making Harry’s head spin.

As Draco invaded Harry’s personal space, his countenance changed: his scowl turned to a blank expression and his eyes flickered away. What had happened? Harry had never thought of himself as an intimidating presence, but Draco’s reaction made him wonder if that had changed as he’d become more and more determined to become a Jedi.

Whatever the reason, Dumbledore seemed pleased with the reaction. “Good. You’re ready. Both of you. We can begin immediately.” He looked over to the woman. “I’m sorry, Narcissa. There was a slight delay in arriving, but we’re here now and we’ve not a moment to lose. Voldemort grows stronger daily and the Malfoy name may no longer be enough to keep you in his graces.”

Narcissa nodded, but her pale face paled further. Harry wondered how Dumbledore knew all these things he was talking about. He vaguely remembered hearing the Malfoy name bandied about on Azkaban as they were escaping with the kidnapped Hermione. Could Dumbledore have had a hand in that? What could Lucius possibly have wanted with Hermione? These thoughts were cast aside in the next instant, when Narcissa approached them.

“Thank you, Master Dumbledore. We will of course make your party comfortable at the Manor. Please tell them that rooms will be prepared for them and they do not need to hide in the forest all night.”

“Thank you, Narcissa. I expect they will wish to stay on the ship, but I will relay your invitation at once.” Dumbledore nodded and followed the house elf toward the large front door. Narcissa also left the room, presumably to make the arrangements of which she spoke.

“I felt you,” Draco said to Harry, now standing at arm’s length.

“Excuse me?” Harry goggled.

“Felt you. You know? When Jedi are close to one another, they feel the other’s physical presence before they’re seen. I felt you coming.”

Harry thought for a moment before asking the next question. “Do you know who I am?”

Draco’s sneer renewed itself. “Of course, you’re Harry Potter. Master Dumbledore told me he was bringing you. You know the Emperor wants you dead?”

Harry nodded. “Do you know why?”

Draco shrugged. “I’ve stopped trying to understand his motives. But I do know he wants me at his side, like my father.”

Harry was suddenly frightened. He eyed the door, wondering if he should make a break for it. “Does he know I’m here?”

“Who?”

“Your father! Voldemort! Either of them! Both of them!” Was the other boy being intentionally obtuse or did he honestly not understand the danger in which Dumbledore had placed them both?

“My mother arranged to have Master Dumbledore train me. As far as I am aware, she shared this with no one,” Draco said, and Harry allowed himself a small sigh of relief. As he did, Draco’s eyes did that strange unfocussing thing again, and he looked away toward the wall upon which were mounted a variety of weapons and other training devices. “Tell me, Potter. Have you trained with any of these yet—?”

∞-------------

“I must have that boy, Snape. Do not let anyone stand in your way. I will not tolerate failure in this endeavour a second time.”

Severus Snape listened to the Dark Lord’s ranting with an ever-increasing sense of incredulity. Voldemort was obsessed with Harry Potter, so much so that he was clearly willing to dispose of any number of worthy and useful associates to get to him.

“...find out if this house elf gossip is true.” Severus was drawn back to the lecture he was receiving at Voldemort’s feet. “If he is indeed at Malfoy Manor being trained with Malfoy’s heir, kill the other boy. In fact, kill everyone there, Snape. But the Son of Potter is mine. ”

“As you wish,” Snape intoned, rising and meeting the eye of the Dark Lord. Voldemort would know he meant business. After all, finding people was his job.

“Touch him and your fate will be worse than the one I plan for Lucius.” Voldemort turned and strode away in an ominous flourish of robes and menace, leaving Snape alone in the landing bay.

∞-------------

The remote had been activated more than an hour and a half earlier. For the last thirty minutes, it’d been set at its highest level. Harry and Draco were working against it well, both individually and together, although to the best of Harry’s knowledge, Dumbledore had not been asked to train them to work as such.

It had not escaped Harry’s notice over the past two weeks that he and Draco made a good team, each with his own strengths which complimented the other’s, and he welcomed the chance to fight together rather than against one another. For some inexplicable reason, having Draco as an opponent felt somewhat counterintuitive. Harry couldn’t understand that: they verbally sparred throughout, but defended themselves and each other effortlessly against the remote’s onslaught of increasing challenges.

By the end of each work-out, Harry felt as drained from the mental processes of having to fire back at Draco’s spiteful comments, as he did physically from swiftly (and more often instinctively) dodging the laser fire from the remote.

Draco, for his part, was his usual hostile self even when not engaged in training; Harry wondered if Draco ever let himself have any fun.

“I was having fun before you arrived, Potter,” he said when Harry questioned him about it.

“But I thought before I got here, you were alone, desperate for Jedi training, your father’s status in the Imperium at risk, and your mother worried for both of you,” Harry reminded him.

“Yes, that’s right. That was fun — I just didn’t know it. It took your coming here for me to realise it.”

Harry rolled his eyes and stalked away, trying to ignore the niggling urge he had to turn and continue the argument. As prickly as Draco was to be around, there was something compelling about him that Harry could not put his finger on.

Put my finger on, put my finger on... I’ll put my finger on you, Malfoy, he thought. I’ll slap your self-centred pale face with my fingers! Then I’ll grab your pointy chin with them and smash my lips against your mouth and — wait, what the fuck?!

Harry came to a screeching halt as he reached the Manor’s huge front door. What in the name of the Almighty Sarlacc was wrong with him? Sure, he liked men — he loved them, actually — but when had he developed feelings for Draco Malfoy? There was something there, it seemed, some part of the Force they were channelling that drew them together, but could that be all it was? Or was this phenomenon a catalyst for an attraction that would have naturally developed over time, even had they not been Jedi at all?

Harry’s attitude toward any future training sessions took an interesting turn. And when he awoke in his cabin on the Cannon sticky and sweat-soaked, it was clear his dreams had taken a similar direction.

∞-------------

Snape flew through normal space at a very slow pace. He’d left the Imperial homeworld quickly, setting a course for the Malfoys’ planet, but now dawdled. Lucius was the closest thing Snape had to a friend, not that either man would ever admit to such a...human thing. And even if Lucius now found himself in Voldemort’s bad graces, Snape, who had many mercenary bones in his body, also had ones that ached with the foreknowledge of his friend’s family’s massacre.

Snape ruminated upon his choices for a moment longer. Then he muttered, “No reward is worth this,” and changed course for Azkaban.

∞-------------

“You have both already learned to channel the Force in a manner that can best be described as telekinetically,” Dumbledore said to the two boys standing before him. “But I would like to hone that ability, temper it to a more refined art. Observe.”

He turned his countenance upon a delicate latch on one of the French windows; the latch turned smoothly and the window opened slowly to let in the morning breeze and the sound of birdsong. Harry and Draco watched closely.

Dumbledore was right: up till now they had practiced moving large objects clumsily from place to place, using only the focus of their minds, often missing the intended target or destination, and no small number of priceless vases and ornate sculptures had been sacrificed to their lessons. Dumbledore appeared to take this destruction with an air of amused patience, Narcissa less so, but Harry felt that he and Draco were both learning control, however slowly. This new skill was the logical course of study.

They practiced on smaller more intricate objects in the room — opening and winding up music boxes, roughly darning bits of tapestry left in an old sewing box, polishing the gauntlets of a suit of armour. At midmorning, Dumbledore smiled benignly at them and left them to continue practicing their new skills.

“We’re running out of stuff to fiddle with,” Harry observed as he looked around the room. He decided to test-drive his new feelings for Draco, to see if there was even a chance they were mutual. “What’s in your room? Any good stuff in there to play with?” Harry winced. That wasn’t quite the way he’d wanted to phrase the question.

Draco didn’t seem to care how Harry phrased anything. “No, Potter. Nothing, and you’re not going in there. I don’t want your grubby hands on anything I own.”

Harry discarded several pithy replies and settled for surliness. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not using our hands at all. And seeing as, unlike your mother, you’re being stingy with your precious possessions, I guess we’ll just have to find something else to practice on.” With that, a small but noisy tear opened in the expensive fabric of Draco’s Jedi robes.

Draco looked down at his clothing, his eyes wide and mouth open in a silent exclamation. When he raised his head, his eyes were narrowed and his mouth was set in an angry line. “Fine, Potter, if that’s the way you want to play it...” And a longer rent — from armpit to hem — appeared down the left side of Harry’s robes. “All too easy, Potter,” Draco sneered. “But that’s to be expected with the Jawa fashions you’re wearing.”

Harry’s robe had indeed been made by Jawas, but damned if he was telling Draco that. “If that’s the way you want to play it, Malfoy, fine!” Harry yelled at his opponent and focussed his mind once again on Draco’s fine robes. Slashes appeared across them at various angles.

With a snarled curse, Draco angrily pulled off the now-tattered garment and closed his eyes in concentration. In a matter of seconds, Harry’s robe and the tunic he wore beneath it lay in smouldering ruins at his feet. He stamped on them, attempting to prevent any charring of the parquet floor, until he realised not only was he trampling upon his own clothing, he was doing so in order to lessen any damage being done to Draco’s house. He stood up, shirtless, and glared at Draco, who suddenly seemed extremely interested in Harry’s navel.

Or something.

Whatever it was that had grabbed his attention, his fascination did not go unnoticed by Harry. He tore his eyes from Draco’s face and concentrated on the tailored shirt Draco wore under his Jedi garb. One by one, the buttons undid themselves with the faintest of popping sounds, until the shirt hung open. Without any movement from either boy, it proceeded to peel itself from Draco’s shoulders and drift gently to the floor.

Now Draco wasn’t the only one whose gaze was riveted on his rival’s torso.

The boys took a step closer to each other. Must. Get. Closer. Harry clearly heard this thought echo through his head as his eyes hypnotically tracked the trail of blond hair leading down Draco’s belly to his waistband.

“I’m getting into these, Malfoy,” Harry said, carefully reaching for Draco’s trousers before vaguely recalling that he was supposed to be using the Force. He moved his arm back and concentrated his mind on seeing what lay beneath the soft fabric.

“Sure...Pot-ter...” Draco said, sounding as though his tongue was two sizes big for his mouth. Perhaps the other boy’s capacity for speech was becoming as muzzy as Harry’s ability to think.

Draco leaned forward and yanked on Harry’s belt, pulling the other boy toward him. Desire was a force of its own, of course, but evidently not one which either of them could control with much accuracy. The lesson in fine manipulation appeared to be over for now.

“I’d like...to...see you try.” Draco’s breath was sweet as it blew across Harry’s face.

Harry stumbled the last step it took to bring his mouth to Draco’s ear, which was situated amidst – he discovered – ridiculously soft hair. Harry whispered into it, even as his hand reached for Draco’s zipper, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

“Master Draco, sir!” interrupted the Malfoy’s house elf. “Enough for today that is, says Master Dumbledore. Return to the ship Harry Potter should.”

Ice-cold bantha milk, poured over them from a great height, couldn’t have been more effective. The boys sprang apart and blinked, as if coming out from under a spell. Frustrated and not a little confused, Harry re-buckled his belt — when did it get un-buckled?! he wondered.

His face and neck the colour of Ron’s hair, Harry hurriedly made for the French windows — his nearest exit. He glanced once, quickly, at Draco as he left. The other boy was hastily donning his shredded robes. Harry had no shirt or robes to speak of. What the hell was he going to tell everyone on the ship when he got back half naked? And since leaving Draco, his temperature seemed to have plummeted. It would be a very cold and uncomfortable walk back to the Cannon.

A crackling in the underbrush at the entrance to the forest brought him up short.

“Here you are, Harry,” Luna said, emerging from the trees carrying a brown bundle in her arms. She unfurled the bundle to reveal a heavy wool cloak and draped it over his shoulders. He gratefully pulled it closer around him. It was too big, but warm, and most of all, concealing. “I didn’t think Neville would mind if I borrowed this for awhile. He doesn’t need to protect himself from prying eyes and embarrassing questions at the moment.”

“Er...thank you.” Harry’s brow creased into its usual Luna-speak expression, but he nonetheless felt appreciative toward whatever random Force guided her.

∞-------------

“What? Severus, is this true?” Lucius sat down heavily in one of the chairs that ringed a large conference table in one of the meeting rooms on Azkaban. “The Dark Lord is aware of my loyalty, he knows my sphere of influence...I can’t believe he would risk...”

“He was very clear, Lucius, that he will go through anyone to get his prize. Anyone.” Snape frowned at the floor. “And I trust you understand what it means that I’ve come to tell you this.” He looked up at his friend. Lucius had buried his head in his hands, his long blond hair spilling out across the table’s polished surface. “Lucius?”

“Yes, Severus.” Lucius raised his head, his eyes still wide with disbelief. “I understand and I appreciate the sacrifice you have made for the sake of my family. I just hope we can survive this.”

“He’s mad, Lucius,” Snape said, beginning to pace. “And madmen are careless. This obsession will no doubt be his undoing. But that can wait.”

Lucius bolted from his chair. “Of course. You’re right. We must get to the Manor.” He charged out of the room, Snape following closely. Guards snapped to attention along the corridor as their superior and his colleague passed.

“And if the rumour of Potter’s presence is true...?” Snape asked when they were out of earshot, keeping pace a few steps behind the other man as they hurried in the direction of the hangar bay and their ships.

“Then it becomes even more important to distance my family from him. If he is there and my family can be safely removed from the area, we may still be able to deliver him to Voldemort.” He turned and looked Snape straight in the eyes. “Make no mistakes about where my loyalties lie, though, Snape. I will happily let Potter slip through my fingers in order to see my family out of danger.”

“Understood, Lucius. I’ll try to find some support among the more neutral systems; it is less likely we’d be betrayed there, and they would have a vested interest in seeing Voldemort displaced.” They reached the bay, and Snape boarded his ship without a backwards glance.

∞-------------

“I still don’t understand why we have to use my social area for this,” Ron complained for the hundredth time.

“Our social area,” one of his brothers prompted.

“Uh-uh...I won —”

“Will you three please just give it a rest?!” Hermione raised her voice rarely, and everyone jumped to obey her. “Please continue, Master Dumbledore.

“I said that I would prefer to use this area as it’s large enough for our purposes, but confined enough so as they cannot move too far away from the remote. The lack of breakable or combustible objects is also a factor. I think it’s safe to say that for this exercise, there is nowhere in the Manor, and certainly nowhere outside, that is suitable.”

Ron scowled.

“Believe me, Weasley, I’d rather not be here, either.” Draco wrinkled his nose as he scanned the room.

“Oi, Malfoy!” Ron moved toward the other boy, his hands already squeezed into fists.

Harry knew exactly how he felt; Draco had that effect on people. But it wouldn’t do to have murder added to the current list of Ron’s legal infractions; embezzlement, kidnapping and harbouring a fugitive were enough for now. “Ron,” Harry warned and reached out a hand to stop his friend’s advance.

“Fine,” Ron said, controlling himself with difficulty. He nodded at Harry then stalked out of the room. Hermione followed, also with a quick nod to Harry as she departed.

The twins slapped Harry on the back. One of them turned at the door and said, “No idea what the old man has planned, but it sounds messy. Don’t get any entrails on the chess board, okay?”

Harry, who hadn’t been nervous until now, began to perspire slightly. He wondered if Draco was doing the same. Then he wondered what it might be like to lick the sweat off the other boy’s skin...Just one drop, Draco. Just that one drop that collects between your shoulder blades and runs down your back to your a—

“As you have both exceeded my expectations in duelling ability, I thought we might try something a little...different.” Dumbledore’s voice cut through Harry’s erotic daydream and he clamped his jaw shut, determined not to lose focus again.

The Jedi master sent the remote aloft between them. “Now,” continued Dumbledore, “I’d like you both to don these.” He gestured at the table upon which sat two sturdy looking helmets with blackened visors.

“What?!” both boys exclaimed in unison.

“I want you to fight the remote, set to its highest level of course, whilst wearing these. Individually, you are capable. As a team, you are formidable I am sure you will succeed. While still retaining your entrails,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.

“But with the blast shield down, we can’t even see. How are we supposed to fight?” Draco complained, placing the helmet on his head. Harry put on his helmet, which effectively closed off what he thought was his most useful sense, but Dumbledore’s next words suggested that this was a wrong assumption.

“You are more aware than you realise — of yourself, of Harry, and the environment around you. You and Harry will be able to defend yourselves and each other.”

“That’s impossible,” Draco spat.

It sounded as though Draco had turned and was now facing away from him. Harry concentrated on the sound of Draco’s voice, a vision of the boy in his head, even his scent, which still tantalised Harry whenever Draco was near. To his surprise, he could feel Draco, but it took a great deal of effort. How he could maintain that sense and still fight the remote was, as yet, a mystery.

“It’s not impossible,” Harry said from under his helmet. “It’s just going to be bloody difficult.”

“Activate your lightsabers and I’ll activate the remote.” Dumbledore’s voice said from the room’s hatch. If Harry concentrated, he could almost see the outline of the Jedi Master in the inky darkness. Just before he heard the clunk of the heavy door, Harry heard Dumbledore speak his last piece of advice: “Let go your conscious selves and act on instinct.”

Then it was silent save for the humming of the remote, set at a lethal level, and hovering above them. With his new vision, Harry could see the faint form of Draco next to him, swaying from foot to foot, as if thinking deeply. Or preparing.

“You heard him, Potter,” Draco finally said, his muffled voice now sounding sure and steady. “I’ll act on instinct if you will.”

Harry’s hands moved faster than thought. The saber sang in his grip as he raised it over his head and swung it with purpose. The sound of disintegrating metal filled the room and the smell of acrid smoke assailed his nostrils. His saber met another at the top of its arc – and Harry deactivated it, throwing it to the ground. He didn’t stop to think about any of his actions. All he could think about was how fast he could take Draco into his arms.

Flinging off their helmets, neither boy paid any notice to the remote which now littered the floor in smoking pieces. They tore at one another’s hair and clothes, mouths pressed together as if desperate for the air in each other’s lungs.

The room, the ship, the Empire faded away and they were alone; they wouldn’t have heard anything even if the ship’s tannoy squawked to life next to them. All they heard was each other’s gasps, each other’s moans. All they saw was the desire in each other’s faces. And what they felt...

Harry felt hands, gentle but insistent, moving through his hair, along his face, and inside his robes. Rather than feeling that his clothing was in the way, it seemed as though Draco was effortlessly working around it, seeking and finding the hard planes of Harry’s chest, the soft indent of his belly and the combination of rigid flesh and velvet skin within his trousers.

Vaguely, Harry felt a solid surface bump against his back and he thought he might be lying across the large circular chess table (of course, he might have fallen to the floor and never noticed). But then Draco climbed on top of him, and all thoughts of his environment evaporated like water from the sands of his homeworld.

Harry reached under and around Draco, and made good his earlier promise: his hands snaked into the other boy’s robes, under the fabric of Draco’s trousers, and clenched the firm flesh as it arched up to meet his palms. Draco gasped, his mouth opening over Harry’s as though the sparks which now rose haphazardly from the dying remote had somehow been transferred to Harry’s fingers.

“Feels so...” Harry managed to breathe while he had brief control of his lips.

“Gods, yes!” Draco agreed, thrusting his body against Harry’s as his hand moved along Harry’s cock between them. “Need...more...” Draco broke off as Harry squeezed his buttocks more tightly and began sucking on his neck for good measure.

The lights in the room flickered, the chess board activated itself, continuing the game Harry had started. Holographic films flashed on and off haphazardly and music blared around them. Voices now did come over the tannoy, though neither boy took any notice.

“—kind of power surge.”

“Engines aren’t on; can’t be that.”

“—old man says it’s Force-generated...training session in social area...just have to ride it out.”

Clothing was finally abandoned. Lips, tongues and fingers found their way around nipples, cocks, and other secret places. There was union between them, union with the Force.

And through it all, beneath the two Jedi, the homoerotic game of chess continued, mirroring the actions of the living bodies above.

∞-------------

“Captain Weasley! Captain Weasley! I must speak to you!”

“Are you expecting company, bro?” a ginger twin asked his younger brother as they lay under a panel making yet more repairs to the Cannon. Whatever that power surge was, it had blown out or disabled quite a few systems on the ship. Finding all of the problems was like looking for a needle in a haystack, and since most of the ship had been thrown together in the first place, ensuring they weren’t wasting time repairing something that had already been fixed was just as difficult as patching up the bits that hadn’t.

“No,” Ron replied, his head half-stuck into a secondary air vent. He went to stand up and succeeded in giving himself a near-concussion. “OW!”

“Ron, it’s Mrs Malfoy,” Hermione said. She had come in when she heard the bang. “I’ve opened the ramp and let her in.”

“Is that wise?” Fred asked.

“I don’t think she’s come to spy. I think she wants something.” Hermione left the room to meet their guest.

Ron and his brothers followed, meeting Neville and Luna at the top of the ramp just as Narcissa arrived on board.

“Captain Weasley,” she said after a moment during which she was undoubtedly trying to discern Ron from the other Weasleys accompanying him. “I must see my son, it’s very important!”

“Uh...” Ron looked around. Harry and Draco were not among the group. “I don’t think...”

“Harry and Draco are training in another part of the ship, Mrs Malfoy,” said Hermione.

Luna spoke up, with her usual conversation-dampening effect. “Oh, they’re not training; they’re fucking.” All eyes turned to face her. “Or they, were. It’s probably safe to interrupt them now.” She spun on her heel and strode toward the Cannon’s social area, leaving everyone looking at each other in an uncomfortable silence.

Several minutes later she returned with Harry and Draco in tow, both properly dressed but a little dishevelled — exactly how one might look like after a good workout.

Draco frowned at his mother. “What’s wrong, Mother?!”

“I...uh...” Narcissa’s usually cultured and precise voice was neither for a moment as she looked from her son to Harry and back again. “Draco, Voldemort is coming. Now.”

“Voldemort’s coming here?” Neville gasped.

“Yes,” Narcissa answered. “He’s demanded access through the energy shield protecting the planet. I can’t disobey him without arousing suspicion.”

“Wait,” Ron said, clearly befuddled. “I don’t remember having to go through an energy shield when we got here.”

“That’s because I deactivated it upon your arrival,” Narcissa said.

“Oh.” Ron still wore a confused expression.

“Mrs Malfoy knew we were coming, Ron,” Hermione clarified.

“We should leave,” Harry suggested.

“We can’t leave,” said George. “Ship’s broken.”

“What? How?” Harry shouted. “I thought you said last week it was repaired.” He turned to Ron.

“It was...” Ron hedged. “Until today. Something blew out half the ship’s systems about twenty minutes after you and Malfoy shut yourselves up in the social area...” Ron trailed off wishing he’d stopped talking about twenty-three words earlier.

“Terrific,” Draco groused. “What did you do, Weasley, put the kettle on for a cup of tea or something?”

“No, Draco, it was you and Ha—” Luna started, but Neville clapped a hand over her mouth before she could finish.

“Draco, whilst...battling with the remote, you and Harry...working together...with such confined energy...” Dumbledore began.

Narcissa looked at the Jedi Master intently.

Hermione and Ron looked at the floor.

Hagrid began whistling to himself.

Fred and George sniggered.

“...and the ship absorbed the massive Force shockwave that was released when the remote was destroyed,” Dumbledore finished.

“Oh,” Draco said, suddenly interpreting everyone’s body language. He blushed profusely and studiously avoided looking at his mother.

“Wait a moment,” Harry said, holding up a hand and looking at Dumbledore. “We destroyed the remote about ten seconds after you left the room. I thought Ron said this Force thing happened about twenty minutes later.”

“Potter,” Draco hissed. “Shut up.”

Ron cleared his throat loudly.

If there’d been tumbleweeds in space, one would have blown through the Cannon’s hatch at that moment.

Harry looked round at the assembled group and caught Luna’s smiling eyes — the only part of her face that was visible.

“Oh my gods,” he said and buried his face in his hands.

“Sooo...Voldemort?” one of the twins prompted.

“Yes, we must find another ship,” Narcissa said.

“Hang on, why do you need to leave? I thought your family was loyal to the Empire?” Ron said in an accusing tone.

“We were, Captain Weasley, until we betrayed it when you arrived. My husband contacted me earlier. I told him Draco and Mr Potter were training together, and he did not give away the whereabouts of Harry Potter when he could have. Voldemort’s found out and sent Snape after all of us.”

“Severus Snape? Slimy bast —”

“Ronald, language,” Hermione chastised.

Narcissa frowned at Ron. “You may dislike him, but Snape has always been our friend, and now he has sided with Lucius. However, Voldemort appears to have taken matters into his own hands. He will be here within minutes.”

Draco went to stand next to his mother, but gave Harry a meaningful look. “Where is Father?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve lost contact.” She glanced at Dumbledore. “Although I’ve since heard from Severus; he was on the planet Kashyyyk.”

“A wise course of action,” Dumbledore said cryptically. “We at least will not be outnumbered.”

“Come, Draco. We must go.” Narcissa began to lead Draco down the ramp.

“Wait!” Harry called. “I’m coming with you.”

“No Harry, you can’t!” shouted Neville, dropping his hand from Luna’s mouth and waving both arms in Harry’s face.

“I have to, Neville. If Voldemort is coming for me, you can’t stop him. And I can’t endanger any of you by staying here. If he’s busy trying to find me in the forest, he’ll leave the Manor and Cannon alone.”

“Harry, if my father is indeed on his way here, the forces on Azkaban Space Station can protect you; they’re loyal to my father, not the Dark Lord. You’re coming with me.” Draco walked down the ramp, taking Harry by the arm. The rest of the crew followed them.

“Are you sure about this, Harry?” Hermione asked his retreating back.

“He’s sure,” said Luna.

In light of recent events, no one could think of a reason she might be wrong.


∞-------------

Voldemort paced around one of the ornate rooms of the Manor, glaring at his prisoners and veritably twitching with unease and anticipation.

“He is here.”

“Yes, he is. And you can’t have him,” Draco said, somewhat recklessly.

“Why are you protecting him? He means nothing to you and all to me.”

“How? What has he done?” Draco asked.

“It’s what he could do. He and his allies want me dead. You, young Jedi, cannot understand the seriousness of this threat. I daresay any training you may have received, Draco, will not have included a full understanding of the prophetic nature of the Force. My awareness of it and my capacity to exploit it is what has propelled me to this exalted position.” Voldemort stopped and faced them. “Give up Harry Potter now or I will destroy the remainder of this family.” His voice dropped and he glared at the two Malfoys. “Even now your father will be lying dead on that metal monstrosity he created.”

“Will he?” Dumbledore’s voice came from the French windows on the far side of the room.

Voldemort turned faster than lightspeed, or so it seemed to Harry, hiding outside the door through which Dumbledore had just entered. With a wave of Voldemort’s arm and a thrill of the Force, Dumbledore was knocked backwards, unconscious, his limp body sent spinning off into the forest.

“My men will see to him...” Voldemort said darkly.

Men? thought Harry. So he had brought storm troopers with him.

“And now it is your turn.” Voldemort’s ominous gaze drifted to the boy Harry had become so very fond of.

“Nooooo!” Harry shouted and threw himself into the room, angling his body so as to deflect anything Voldemort could hurl at Draco or his mother.

This time Voldemort’s reaction was slower, hampered by the barrage of tall, hairy creatures which swarmed through the door on the opposite side of the room. Voldemort might have been able to defend himself against two or three enraged Wookiees, all armed with cross-bows and bad attitudes, but he was not prepared to face Lucius, Snape, Hermione, Ron and the twins also bearing down on him from the windows Harry had just clamoured through.

So many people were crowded into the room that everything seemed to happen at once: Snape and the Wookiees surrounded Voldemort, while Ron, the twins, and Hermione surrounded Harry and Draco. Lucius rushed to Narcissa’s side. In the distance, Harry thought he heard laser fire from the forest — no doubt the Wookiees engaging in a fire-fight with Voldemort’s forces.

Voldemort was nowhere to be seen until Snape and his massive entourage backed away from where the Dark Lord had last been standing. He lay dead on the ground.

Snape looked round at the assembled group gaping in astonishment. “Simple,” he said, nodding at Lucius. “Lucius offered me more money to kill Voldemort than Voldemort offered me to kill him.”

“As if you would kill me,” Lucius said to Snape, not unkindly, as he wrapped his arms about his wife,

“Lucius,” Narcissa said, her voice muffled as he pressed her against his chest. “You’re safe! Voldemort said you were—”

“Voldemort said many things,” Lucius replied, warily eyeing his son and Harry Potter standing close – very close – together. “I see now that he was wrong about...most of them.”

∞-------------

“An’ m’ mother’s side of the family was all from Kashyyyk-way,” Hagrid said to the Wookiee standing guard with him at the entrance to the Cannon. Voldemort’s forces on the planet might have been destroyed but Lucius was taking no chances. He’d ordered guards everywhere until he knew his family was safe from any stragglers or mercenaries. Of course there were already mercenaries in their midst. But as long as Snape and Ron weren’t left alone, there was little cause for worry among his own group.

Harry had to smile at the Cannon’s co-pilot’s attempt to forge new friendships. News of the Dark Lord’s demise would surely be met with joy and celebration throughout most systems, but the fledging Jedi Order and their associated bureaucrats would need time and help to flush out the remaining Imperial supporters. It was now the task of Lucius, Snape and Dumbledore to show the galaxy a united front.

Harry, Dumbledore, and Draco walked from the Cannon to the hatch of one of the ships nearby. There they were met by Lucius and Snape, making final preparations to leave for their new governmental posts.

“I’ve had to make some very difficult decisions because of you; I am trusting you with a great deal, Potter. See that this so-called academy you and Draco are to establish thrives. We cannot rule effectively if the Jedi become extinct,” Lucius warned Harry.

Harry reassured him as best he could. “I understand, Mr Malfoy. We will find them and train them, just as Dumbledore did with us.”

“And Potter, stop breaking things in the Manor. Surely you and Draco can find somewhere else to...live.” That was as far as Lucius would go to acknowledging Harry and Draco’s relationship.

Harry tried not to smile as he recalled what happened any time he and Draco came close to...coming — things had a way of falling, smashing or randomly breaking apart. The convergence of Force-traits during Jedi coupling (the cumulative effect appeared to be exponential rather than geometric) was one subject Harry was looking forward to researching at this school he and Draco had agreed to oversee.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said and held out his hand. Lucius ignored him and turned to give his son a brief but heartfelt embrace. Then he boarded the ship.

“He doesn’t like you.” Snape sneered at Harry. He turned and was halfway up the ramp of the ship before adding, “I don’t like you either.”

The hatch closed and the two boys moved a safe distance away.

“We’ve got a long way to go,” Harry observed. He took Draco’s hand and watched the ship ascend.

“Well...I like you,” Draco said, face pointed up to the starry night. “In fact —” He turned and took Harry in his arms. “I love you.”

Harry kissed Draco for a long time before leaning back slightly and smiling at Draco’s flushed face. “I know.”


The End