I wake up feeling his body pressed to mine. My cock is shamelessly hard, but Harry doesn't look embarrassed. My hands travel down his back to cup his buttocks as he rubs against me.

His face touches mine; he nibbles my earlobe, then traces a wet path to my lips. Soft, velvety lips brush against mine, and an audacious tongue slides into my mouth.

Oh, he knows how to kiss! He must have practiced extensively with his Arthurian damsel, Ginevra - may God bless her and keep her far away from us. Jealousy adds a touch of despair to the maddening mixture of feelings that fill me. I feel fragile around him. I want him, and I want him to want me. If he rejects me again, it will be the end.

My tongue plunges in the wet and sweet warmth of his mouth, and his hands roam through my body, awakening in me urgency I can't control. My heart races, and a deep moan escapes from my throat.

I lift his nightshirt and find him hard beneath it - he came to bed with no underwear, like me. I curl my fingers around his cock and hear him gasping. He lifts my nightshirt up by the hem and imitates my gesture, holding my cock in his hand. I pull him towards me and rub my cock against his.

It's good to make love to him like this; we can kiss while we touch each other. I can also search for his nipples as I am doing now, spreading soft bites around a tiny, dark nub, approaching it in slow spirals. I take it into my mouth, roll my tongue around it, grasp my teeth slightly against the rigid flesh before sucking it. He moans in pleasure and thrusts towards me, trying to speed my pace.

"Shh. Slow down. Yes, like this..."

"Oh, Severus, it's so good..."

To hear him say my name is an unexpected thrill. I run my tongue over his lower lip, asking for entrance, and he eagerly opens for me. We keep kissing and stroking, harder, faster. Finally, I feel him throbbing in my hand. He buries his face in the curve of my neck and, biting me like a vampire, he comes. The pain from the bite adds an edge to the tension that reaches a peak. I smash my cock against his once again and the world splinters into pure bliss.

Long minutes pass; he's still in my arms. I hold him against my chest and reach for my wand, that I have left on a shelf above the headboard, to cast a cleaning spell.

"Time to get up and save the world," I joke.

"Hmmm," he murmurs.

He lifts his face to me and I am powerless to resist: I kiss him again. I can't have enough of him.

"You have a mission to fulfil today. Let's have breakfast," I finally manage to say, but I don't really want to leave the bed.

We are at the kitchen's table, having tea. He tries the cassava cake and tells me he likes the corn meal cake best.

"You mean the bolo de fubá," I say, practising my Portuguese.

"Whatever. The yellow one."

"I shall buy you another one, after you leave."

"Where do you buy those things?"

"There is a road less than two miles from here. Usually I Apparate there, but sometimes I like to walk. There you can find a bakery, and also the restaurant that sends our meals." I sip my tea. "Your conversation with Narcissa will be brief, I expect. I shall be waiting you for lunch."

"But how can I convince her?" he asks, his voice full of concern.

"Easily." I take a parchment from my pocket and hand it to him. "Here is the place where I am keeping Draco. The Dark Lord decided to punish him for not having killed Dumbledore as he had ordered, and I helped Draco to escape and hide. I am his Secret Keeper. You will offer Narcissa this map in exchange for the locket. I would advise you not to be cold to her. Treat her well. She has feelings. Tell her you will do your best to protect her family. Tell her also that I shall not let any harm come to Draco."

He seems astonished. "You're risking too much."

"I am a dead man, as far as I know."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you forgotten our Vow? When everything is over, I shall give you back my wand and be at your mercy."

He frowns. "I don't understand the game you're playing." He looks contemplative. "Are you helping me just to save your own life?"

I sneer. "My life is not so valuable."

"Yeah, I know it's stupid, what I've just said. You are still following Dumbledore's orders; I know that, now. But why, when you are with me... Why are you so... so..."

He seems lost. I reach out, frame his face in my hands and kiss him as if there were no tomorrow.

"Foolish Gryffindor. I am trying to seduce you."

He looks more confused than ever, and I send him away before the temptation to kiss him again becomes unbearable.

Harry arrives from the Malfoys, victorious again, and nestles in my arms. He spends long minutes telling me how he convinced Narcissa to accept the deal he offered and give him the Horcrux, and I can't help wondering if he was born into a cauldron of Felix Felicis. He would not have succeeded otherwise; he doesn't have any subtlety. However, the deal was convenient for Narcissa as well and, surprisingly, she must have realised it. She has also proven her trust in me; I sincerely hope not to fail her.

The third Horcrux was destroyed by Harry himself; the ornate serpentine S, the mark of Slytherin, was a snake in disguise and told him the Parseltongue spell that would destroy the locket and free the snake from it.

Narcissa is with Draco now.

Lunch is Dobradinha. Harry is very enthusiastic about the dish. When I tell him it's made of tripe - the white stomach lining tripe, to be more accurate - he wrinkles his nose, but finishes his plate and has another serving.

The day is cloudy, so the sun is not very intense. I invite him for a walk. We go to the lake and watch the herons flying over us, their wings gleaming white in the shimmering sun, then swooping down in search of fish.

In the afternoon, we have tea with bolo de fubá, and I brace myself to tell him a most delicate and painful secret.

I never imagined I would feel so intimidated and concerned. It wouldn't be fair to wait until the night comes. As much as I would like to spend another night with him, it wouldn't be correct to take him to bed before I tell him what I must. No. I have to tell him now.

I take him to the back porch and we sit in the reclining chairs; I with my glass of Firewhisky, he with a glass of pineapple juice.

"Er. The last Horcrux is Nagini, right?" he asks.

A shiver runs down my spine. "No."

"No? Then it's some Gryffindor object. But Dumbledore told me the only Gryffindor relic..."

"Harry... When the Dark Lord went that night to Godric's Hollow, he wanted to create a Horcrux with your death."

"Yeah, Dumbledore told me so. But then my mother died to protect me, and because of that the Avada Kedavra he cast on me rebounded to him."

"This is correct, but it is not the whole truth." I put my glass on a stool near the chair. My hands are shaking. I take a deep breath. "The Dark Lord cast the spell to make a Horcrux of your death first; when he cast the Killing Curse on you and your mother shielded you, the Dark Lord's soul split, because he murdered your mother, and the soul part designed for the Horcrux went into you."

He pales. "So... I am the seventh Horcrux?"

He stands up and staggers off the porch and into the grass. He doubles over and starts to throw up. I approach him from behind and hold him. But he doesn't want to be comforted; he rips away from me and walks towards the wood.

In spite of my concerns, I know that wanting to be alone is normal in a moment like this. I empty my glass and walk to the kitchen to refill it.

I wait for him on the porch, still drinking my Firewhisky. The sun has already set.

I see a green flash coming from the wood. My heart hammers wildly. I know this flash very well. I run towards it, afraid of what I might find.

Has the Dark Lord come here, or has he sent one of his minions? I don't even want to think of what might have happen to Harry. But he wouldn't want to kill Harry, would he? He tried to kill Harry even knowing he was one of his Horcruxes, but that was before he realised his Horcruxes were not as safe as he believed.

I penetrate into the wood. Only now I remember to pull out my wand.

Suddenly I see him. He is surrounded by a green halo and has a red glow in his eyes.

"Harry!"

"I cast Avada Kedavra on myself," he says.

The very ground beneath my feet seems to be crumbling away. I touch his arms, his shoulders. "You can't be serious."

But I know it is true. I know he wouldn't lie about this. I look inside his eyes and try to read him. He lets me, but what I see is a chaotic, unbearable emotional discharge.

"I thought about everything while I was walking through the wood, and I realised the Killing Curse was my only chance."

I should be furious at him, but I can't. "You lived... again!" I exclaim, marvelled. The idea that I could have lost him is too disturbing. I would like to embrace him and never let him go, but he looks distant.

"I don't know if it was because of my mother's protection, or because of Love, or because I didn't put the intention or the intensity necessary in my Killing Curse; the fact is that it didn't work. I met a snake a few minutes ago, and talked to it. I'm still a Parseltongue, so I reckon Voldemort's still inside me."

The red glow is fading from his eyes.

"We know nothing about what it means to be a living Horcrux, Harry. Are you feeling well?

"Yeah."

"Let's go home. They have already brought dinner. I will heat it, if you want."

"I want to take a bath first."

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"Would you believe, if I promised?" he asks me.

I glare at him. "Of course not!"

"Don't worry. I have wonderful plans for tonight," he says, and I forget to breathe for a moment.

He comes down the staircase smelling of cinnamon soap and wearing a green nightshirt that matches his eyes. We eat the roast beef with Russian salad in silence. He drinks wine; I drink just a glass of water. I have drunk too much Firewhisky.

After the dessert, a sinful Torta de Brigadeiro (a chocolate fudge cake), I show him the flute I have finished this morning, and give it to him. "I made it from a Trumpet tree. The Latin name of the plant is Cecropia. It comes from Kekrops, the founder of Athens and of all Greek civilization, who was half-man, half-serpent."

He holds the flute; his lips close around its mouth, his fingers gently touch its holes, and he blows on it. He doesn't know how to play, but I'm enthralled; I can't take my eyes off him.

"Is it a present?"

I shrug. "As long as you practice very far from me..."

He smiles, and then becomes serious again. "What're you up to?"

"Dumbledore used to say you would defeat the Dark Lord through love. Perhaps you should come to terms with the piece of his soul that lives inside you."

"Do you think that I'd be able to possess Voldermort's soul and destroy it with my... love?"

I wince. "Perhaps. I am not an expert on love."

He looks at me in a strange way, and my heart beats unevenly.

"But even if I destroy him with my love," he pronounces the word sardonically, "I'll still be a Horcrux and he won't die. So, what's the point in love?"

"Let's sleep on it and get back to this later, Harry."

Notes - Recipes:
Dobradinha
Cassava cake (Bolo de Aipim)
Corn Meal Cake (Bolo de Fubá)
Brigadeiro