See disclaimer in Chapter 1. The characters belong to JKR, but the smut is mine! I bow down to Lady_Aubrey and her magnificent grammatical skills!


Pansy spotted them just before the ceremony began, their light and dark heads bent together over a program. She could tell the moment everyone else noticed them, as well. A ripple of hushed whispers and exclamations swelled through the seventh-years on the platform, quickly spreading to the audience when their friends and family followed their disbelieving stares.

Pansy scanned her classmates' faces, her lips twitching with the effort of holding back laughter at the look of righteous indignation on Ron Weasley's face. They were lined up alphabetically, which meant Hermione could do little more than mouth threats at her sometimes-boyfriend across the heads of other students, the task of physically restraining Ron falling to Dean Thomas, who was only a few students away.

McGonagall called for silence, and the whispers and hisses died down. She knew who had caused the stir, just as she knew why they were there. The Headmistress began calling the roll, her usually grim features clouded with pride for the students who had returned to complete their seventh year after the war. Unity among the students – among the wizarding population itself – was more important now than ever; it was part of the reason she'd agreed to the request Harry had made earlier that day.

"Hannah Abbot, Hufflepuff," McGonagall said, her voice carrying across the sea of people gathered on Hogwarts' lawn with the help of a Sonorus.

The girl took a few timid steps toward the podium, accepting a handshake and a piece of parchment from Professor Sprout. She blushed under the scrutiny of the crowd, hurrying across the stage until she reached the edge of the platform. Hagrid held out his arm, helping her down the stairs and directing her to a line of empty chairs.

She was still blushing furiously when Susan Bones and Terry Boot settled into their seats next to her, parchment gripped in their trembling hands as well. Hufflepuffs were, on the whole, not fond of public spectacles.

"Lavender Brown, Gryffindor," McGonagall called out, her voice just the slightest bit louder for the member of her former house.

Lavender – much less embarrassed than the Hufflepuffs who had come before her – strutted across the stage, turning to grin at her classmates. Her eyes sought out Draco's in the crowd, and she sent him a lascivious wink. Laughter rolled through the crowd, and everyone was surprised to see Harry join in, slinging his arm good-naturedly over Draco's shoulder and rolling his eyes.

"Millicent Bulstrode, Slytherin," the Headmistress said, and the girl came forward, her back ramrod straight.

Her family had not approved of her return to Hogwarts, but she defied them, promptly finding herself disowned for her choice. She was more surprised than anyone when two loud, cheering voices were heard above the polite claps, the shock clear on her face when she took the proffered parchment from Professor Slughorn and made her way to her seat. Harry and Draco waited until she'd taken her place next to Lavender, her usually dour face beaming at the unexpected show of support and friendship, before sitting back down.

McGonagall had to call for silence again to quell the whispers and jeers that broke out as the couple took their seats again. Her hard glare swept over the crowd, making everyone who had ever had Minerva McGonagall as a professor squirm uncomfortably in their seats, feeling like chastised first years.

"Mandy Brocklehurst, Ravenclaw," she said, her voice still holding a bit of steel as she almost dared those in the crowd to continue their inappropriate comments.

She made her way across the stage without a problem, just like those after her. Justin Corner, another Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff Justin Finch-Fletchley had barely settled into their seats after crossing the stage before the next eruption.

"Seamus Finnigan, Gryffindor," McGonagall said, smiling at the Irish wizard as he bowed to her on his way past her podium.

Harry was on his feet again, dragging Draco with him, applauding his former dorm mate. The crowd watched, excited, as Ron's face turned scarlet, his entire body shaking with anger.

"– no right –" Draco could hear the redhead shouting from across the field. He saw Dean grab Ron's arm, likely preventing him from tearing across the grassy space to tackle Harry. "– what he's done –" the tirade continued, more words becoming audible as the crowd hushed. "– an abomination. That he would even show up here after –"

Hermione's Silencing Charm hit Ron without warning, instantly rendering him mute. He continued to rant, but his words were no longer carrying on the wind, lost before they left his throat. Dean tightened his hold on the boy when he moved toward the front of the line, apparently going after Hermione now. Pansy leaned closer, but she couldn't hear the words the muscular boy was hissing in Ron's ear. Whatever he said seemed to work, coupled with Hermione's spell, since Ron went slack in Dean's grip, his arms crossed angrily over his chest.

Draco felt hundreds of eyes on them, from glares to curious stares. He looked toward his former classmates at the front of the audience, watching Seamus carefully. His jaw was clenched, but he returned Draco's gaze without the anger or revulsion Draco had been expecting, simply looking at him warily.

"Anthony Goldstein, Ravenclaw," McGonagall said, continuing as if Ron's outburst hadn't happened.

"Gregory Goyle, Slytherin," she said before the Ravenclaw had taken his seat, speeding up the tempo of the ceremony. She doubted Ron's Weasley temper would hold much longer.

Harry and Draco rose again, among the few who cheered for the bulky Slytherin. Much like Seamus, he glanced at them uneasily, a small smile on his lips as he took his seat.

"Daphne Greengrass, Slytherin," McGonagall continued, watching the witch flounce across the stage.

"Hermione Granger, Gryffindor," she said, unable to suppress her smile or the fond tone of her voice as she called the name of one of her brightest and best students.

Hermione could hear Harry and Draco whistling and cheering for her, their voices even louder than her parents and the assembled crowd of Weasleys, as she took the parchment from Professor Sinistra, McGonagall's replacement as Gryffindor's Head of House. She glanced over at the two boys, who were on their feet now, clapping enthusiastically. A wave of apprehension slid through her as she saw George and Bill eye the couple, though Charlie's smile and wink directed at the same target made her feel a little better.

"Megan Jones, Hufflepuff," McGonagall said, fighting hard not to laugh when the Hufflepuff tripped over her robes as she raced across the stage, barely pausing long enough for Professor Sprout to hand her the parchment.

"Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor," she continued, her eyes still on Megan, who was now beet red and being helped to her seat by several other Hufflepuffs.

Neville grinned nervously as he walked across the stage, his smile growing when he looked out into the crowd, watching as Harry and Draco stood, both clapping madly. His Gran remained in her seat, though he saw the look of approval flash across her face when she saw him wink at his friends.

He had been in contact with the couple several times since their transfer to Durmstrang, and he'd found that once he was no longer the target of the former Slytherin's pranks and insults, he rather liked Draco. His Gran felt the same way; they'd had both boys over for tea when the schools were out for Easter.

"Ernie MacMillan, Hufflepuff," McGonagall said, her eyes scanning the crowd. Ernie's family had also been against the Hufflepuff's return to Hogwarts.

Harry and Draco were on their feet again, whistling for the boy who crossed the stage with his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders slumped. Like Millicent, he hadn't expected anything other than the customary polite applause. His parents were angry that he'd stayed to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts, ending generations of neutrality for the pureblood MacMillan family. They'd survived Voldemort's initial rise – as well as Grindelwald's – by refusing to take sides, and they saw Ernie's actions as a betrayal of the delicate political web they'd woven.

He paused before accepting Hagrid's help down from the stage, a look of bemusement on his face as he watched Harry and Draco continue to cheer for him, staying on their feet to applaud the next seventh year as well.

"Theodore Nott, Slytherin," McGonagall continued, watching the crowd warily as everyone focused on Harry and Draco's behavior. Loud whispers and comments were being thrown about again, but she pushed on, knowing a confrontation was likely inevitable.

"Pansy Parkinson, Slytherin," she said, her shoulders tensing slightly when Harry and Draco continued to stand, clapping wildly.

Pansy grinned, skipping across the stage – she could actually feel her mother's glare, even though she couldn't see the woman – and accepting Slughorn's hearty handshake. She waved her parchment in the air, blowing kisses to Harry and Draco before taking her seat next to Theo.

The Patil twins were called next, accepting their parchments gracefully, and settling into their seats after shaking hands with their respective Heads of House without a single glance toward the audience.

"Dean Thomas, Gryffindor," McGonagall said, smiling at the boy who marched across the stage proudly, pumping Professor Sinistra's hand enthusiastically.

She saw Harry and Draco rise once again, applauding the Gryffindor. Her gaze immediately shifted to Ron, watching uneasily as he turned an even brighter shade of red. She guessed Hermione's Silencing Charm must have held, since he clearly tried to shout something that no one could hear. She paused for a moment, admiring Hermione's tricky spell work. She truly was the brightest witch of her generation.

"Lisa Turpin, Ravenclaw," she said, trying not to dread the next name. The girl walked across the stage calmly enough, but her gaze kept flicking back over her shoulder, watching as Ron Weasley looked like he was preparing to implode.

"Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor," McGonagall said, her wand at the ready in case the boy tried anything foolish.

Harry and Draco rose dutifully, their clapping a bit more subdued than it had been for their other friends, but still louder than most of the rest of the audience, save the Weasley clan.

Ron's face was stony as he took the parchment from Professor Sinistra, not bothering to take the hand she offered him. His eyes were glued to Harry and Draco, the hate blazing in them obvious to even those at the back of the crowd. They stood their ground, applauding, until he crossed the stage.

"Blaise Zabini, Slytherin," McGonagall said, her voice almost trembling with relief. The last student had been called, with no major problems from Ron or the rest of the crowd.

Harry whistled, and Draco waved his hands, cheering and clapping as his friend crossed the stage. Like Pansy, Blaise had a spring in his step, and he, too, blew kisses in their direction, drawing cat calls and giggles from the audience.

The Headmistress waited until everyone had settled again before starting her closing remarks. Theo drew something out of his robe and inflated it with a spell, tossing it in the air. McGonagall's lips twitched as she fought to maintain her stern gaze, watching as the students gleefully batted at what she assumed was a Muggle beach ball. As the crowd watched the giddy seventh years bouncing it from hand to hand across the row, Harry and Draco slipped out, running full-tilt toward the castle.


"It says by invitation only," Seamus said, turning the heavy parchment over in his hands. The creamy paper was definitely expensive, as was the nearly iridescent ink. He looked around the Great Hall, curious to see if the other seventh years had received a similar letter. "Looks like most of us got one."

Ron huffed angrily, rolling his eyes. He was still upset about Harry's appearance – and therefore still under the effects of the very clever Silencing Charm Hermione had cast. His voice would remain muted until his words would no longer be a rant against Harry or Draco.

"That's strange," Ginny said, her eyes narrowed as she studied her own invitation. "I got one, too."

She looked around, searching for any other non-seventh year holding a similar letter. "Luna, too. And Zach."

Dean frowned, looking over Ginny's shoulder at her invitation. It looked just like his.

"I wonder why you three were invited," he said, comparing the words again. "Maybe because you have a lot of friends in our year?"

Ginny shrugged, setting the parchment aside. "I don't care why, I'm just glad we were. 'Dress comfortably for a night of drinking and debauchery'? I'm not missing out on that!"

She cast a quick glance over at her mother, who was sitting further down the bench. Satisfied Molly hadn't overheard her words, she leaned back toward Dean, fluttering her eyelashes. "Interested?"

He laughed, shoving her away.

"Trying to get me killed, Gin?" he asked playfully, nodding toward her brother, who was watching their conversation with narrowed eyes.

"Shove it, Ron," she said, sticking her tongue out.

"Dean and I have been shagging all year," she whispered, supporting herself on her elbows so she could lean across the table to talk to Ron. "Because I'm feeling charitable, I'll give you this one opportunity to protest."

She sat back with a satisfied smirk, knowing full well he couldn't say a word.

"I'm so glad I have your approval," she said, laughing aloud when his face turned scarlet. She snuggled against Dean, his arm automatically resting around her shoulders as she inched closer. "See, Dean? I told you Ron wouldn't have a problem with us."


The party had been going for a good half an hour before the door creaked open, shutting quietly after a few seconds. Anyone who hadn't been watching for it wouldn't have noticed, but Pansy and Hermione stepped out of the shadows, feeling the seemingly empty air carefully.

"Oof," Harry gasped as Hermione walked into him, sending him crashing into Draco.

"I thought as much," Pansy purred, her fingers sliding over the slick material of Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

Hermione threw up a quick Muffliato, not that it was necessary to obscure their conversation. The room was buzzing with conversation and music, the wireless cranked up to an almost painful level. Students were lounging on the furniture – the room had configured itself like a generic common room, colors from all four Houses incorporated into the décor – or milling around by the large windows, drinking and enjoying themselves.

"Have you already cast the spell, then?" Hermione asked, her brow arched.

"Could you take the cloak off?" Pansy complained, pinching the fabric between her fingers. "I feel like an idiot talking to thin air."

There was a long pause, and then a whisper of sound as Draco slid the cloak off them, balling it in his hands. He tried to shove it in the pocket of Harry's form-fitting Muggle denims, but the dark-haired boy danced away. Hermione sighed, pulling out her wand again and casting a charm to shrink the cloth, rendering it small enough to fit in the pocket of Draco's equally form-fitting attire.

"Yes," Draco answered smugly, grinning at them. "It took me weeks to find the spell you used, and that was with the help of Durmstrang's incredible library. It's much better than the one here. No delineation between Dark and Light spells."

Hermione sighed dreamily at the thought of open access to so much information. She was impressed Draco had found the spell at all – she'd come across it by accident in the library at Grimmauld Place the summer before.

"I assume you have a plan?" Pansy drawled, giving the boys a stern look before throwing herself into Draco's arms, peppering his face with kisses. "Merlin, I missed you!"

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly. Harry did the same with Hermione, pressing a smacking kiss to the top of her bushy hair. His eyes met Draco's over the tops of the girls' heads, and they abruptly released them. Harry caught Pansy as she stumbled, hugging her tightly to his body and swinging her around so her feet left the ground. She giggled and smacked at him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose when he sat her down. Draco did the same with Hermione, laughing when she giggled in delight.

"We missed you, too," Harry said, grabbing Draco's hand. "Both of you. Owls and Fire-calls are well and good, but they just aren't the same as actually seeing someone in person."

"I wish I'd seen you at Easter, but we were –" Pansy started, trailing off when Ron approached, his face livid.

"Ron!" Harry greeted him, ignoring the look of cold fury that contorted the redhead's features. "I'm glad you came. Draco and I wanted to do something to congratulate everyone, so we thought a party was in order."

Ron's mouth moved soundlessly, his surprise evident.

"Yes, that's right," Draco drawled, pulling Harry closer. He grinned when Ron's eyes bulged at the sight of their bodies touching. "We had the good fortune to end our term a day earlier than Hogwarts', which gave us the chance to set all this up."

He gestured around the room with his free hand. The party was impressive – tables sagged under the weight of every type of alcohol imaginable, both Muggle and magical, as well as an impressive variety of snacks and sweets.

"We have a whole evening of activities planned," Harry said, grinning when he saw Ron blanch. He laughed when the lanky redhead glared at him and made for the door, obviously intent on leaving. "Oh, be reasonable, Ron; you can't leave yet."

The Gryffindor didn't listen, grabbing the door handle and pulling. Hard. He tried again, jiggling the handle, his eyes widening as he realized it wouldn't budge.

"I imagine you'll find our dear host meant that quite literally," Pansy said, smirking. "I do believe we're all prisoners here for the foreseeable future."

"Prisoner is such a harsh word, Pans," Draco drawled, grabbing her hand and bringing it up to his mouth, his lips brushing over the soft skin. "I prefer the term guest."

The rest of the room had wandered over during their conversation, the students' reactions ranging from panicked, like Ron, to amused, like Neville.

"I have a feeling I know why we're here," he said, surprising everyone when he spoke. The notoriously shy Gryffindor rarely talked in public.

Harry concentrated on an image in his head, and the room transformed. Chairs and small sofas now dotted the center of the room, arranged in a cozy circle. He motioned for everyone to take a seat, gracelessly flopping on a nearby sofa. Draco sat gingerly next to him, rolling his eyes at Harry's lack of manners. As usual, the dark-haired wizard just laughed, shrugging.

"Let me tell you a story," he began once everyone – except Ron, who stalwartly remained beside the door – settled in. "Have you ever heard of sunspots? No? Me either."


"I can't believe you followed him to Durmstrang without knowing whether or not he really loved you," Lavender said, sniffing. Most of the girls had cried at the end of the story, with most of the boys laughing and teasing them for their sappiness.

"It didn't matter if he did or not," Harry said honestly, squeezing Draco's hand. "It was enough that I loved him. I'd have followed him anywhere."

A chorus of sighs rippled through the room, the girls all completely besotted with the adorable couple in front of them. Harry hadn't told them about Draco's use of Memory Charms, but most of those assembled seemed willing to forgive the blond his apparent indiscretions, since he'd been spurred on by a broken heart.

"It's so romantic," Parvati whispered, shivering at the thought of someone loving her as much as Harry obviously loved Draco.

"And so tragic," Hannah chimed in, her gaze falling on Harry, who smiled and shrugged. He didn't care if they thought Draco had slept with half the school. Harry knew he hadn't. "It's like Romeo and Juliet."

Draco snorted, running his hand through Harry's hair, which was fanned out over his shoulder. Harry snuggled deeper into Draco's embrace, earning more coos from the girls and snickers from the guys.

"Hannah," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Neither of us hatched some ill-thought-out suicide plot, nor is either of us a woman. How exactly is our relationship similar?"

She sighed dreamily, a smile spreading across her face.

"You have so many people who want to keep you apart," she said, watching them with a tender expression. "But you're so clearly meant to be together."

Harry jumped when Ron punched the door, the loud bang punctuating Hannah's sentence. Hermione practically growled, jumping up to confront him.

"They are meant to be together," she hissed at him, crossing her arms over her chest. A small part of her rejoiced when she saw how he cradled his hand, hoping it was broken. He deserved worse, after his behavior over the last few months. "Just like I used to think we were."

His angry expression morphed into one of confusion and hurt, his mouth opening to protest. He sighed in frustration at his inability to speak, pleading with her to remove the spell, desperation in his eyes.

"I won't," she said, turning back around to re-join the circle. "Not until you at least try to act civil."

He considered her words, still cradling his likely broken hand to his chest. After a moment, he gave in, collapsing into an empty chair near Hermione's.

"Excellent," Harry said, sitting up. "I'm glad you've joined us, Ron."

He looked at Draco, who used his wand to Summon several bottles of Firewhisky and a tray full of shot glasses from the table behind them.

"Ooh, are we going to play I Never, or Truth or Dare, like you two did in here?" Padma squeaked, clearly excited to witness the two of them playing. Though they'd heavily edited the story and only alluded to the sex – or the intimate nature of their questions and dares – it hadn't been hard to fill in the blanks.

"We thought it would be a good way to help everyone get comfortable with our relationship," Draco said, Levitating the tray around so everyone could grab a glass. "We've told you how we got together, and why we've stayed together."

"You're all our friends," Harry said, looking around the room. Only a few members of the seventh year class hadn't been invited, those who, like Daphne Greengrass, truly hated them, or those like Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst, who neither of them really knew. "We want you to feel comfortable around us. We want you to know the truth about us, not just the drivel that's been printed in all the newspapers."

He looked at Ron, who glared weakly at him, clearly exhausted. "We want to find out if it will be possible to remain friends with you after school."

Ron had the grace to blush and look down, which gave Harry hope. He and Draco had orchestrated this entire thing mainly to win Ron over – or at least assure themselves that they'd done everything possible to sway him. Others, like Dean and Seamus, Harry had been confident would come around easily after they explained the reason for their transfer. The Slytherins needed none of those explanations – the reason would have been clear to them.

"I had planned to give everyone a choice of games," Draco continued, plucking the last shot glass off the tray as it came back around. "Unfortunately, it looks like Weasley wouldn't be able to play Truth or Dare, since it seems unlikely that Hermione would lift her Silencing Charm for the game."

He looked toward Hermione, who shook her head resolutely.

"As I suspected. We'll play I Never, then," he said, looking straight at Ron. "When you're ready to ask a real question, I'm assuming the spell will cancel itself. Until then, we'll skip you."

He gave them a quick overview of the rules – unsurprisingly, none of the Hufflepuffs had played the game before, and only a few Ravenclaws had.

"I'll go first," Harry said, raising his glass. He watched as everyone else held theirs, waiting for his words. "I've never been in love with Draco Malfoy."

Harry drank, grinning when most of the rest of the room drank, too. Ron's glass remained in his hand. Theo shrugged, wiping his mouth after his shot.

"The spell doesn't differentiate platonic love," he said, grinning as he saw relief flow over Greg's features as the larger Slytherin looked into his own empty glass.

They all refilled their shot glasses, readying them for the next question.

"I've never been in love with Harry Potter," Draco drawled, rolling his eyes. It was necessary, he knew, to convince the last of the Gryffindor hold-outs that he and Harry truly did love each other. He tossed back his shot, letting the glass clink heavily on the end table next to the sofa.

A good number of people – including Ron, this time – downed their shots as well. Harry grinned, arching his eyebrows.

"Guess I'm just a lovable kind of guy," he joked, laughing when Draco nodded seriously.

"My turn," Pansy said, waiting as everyone refilled their glasses. "I've never had sexual contact with someone while playing a drinking game."

Her eyes flashed as she watched Harry and Draco – and a few others, including Neville Longbottom, which surprised her – drink. Her lips curved into a satisfied smirk, as did Hermione's. It looked like they'd finally found out what happened during that weekend in the Room of Requirement.

"I've never called out the wrong person's name during sex," Ginny yelled, winking at Harry when he blushed crimson and drank.

"I've never wanted to watch Harry and Draco snog," Lavender called out, earning cat calls and whistles from the rest of the girls – and a few of the guys as well. Most of the room drank, compelled to by the spell either because they truly wanted to watch the boys kiss or because of simple curiosity.

Ron felt his anger dissolve, watching as one of his oldest friends snogged the daylights out of one of his oldest enemies. Draco stroked Harry's jaw as he deepened the kiss, and Harry sighed, relaxing at his touch. There was nothing obscene about the kiss, nothing terribly inappropriate. Still, it shocked Ron. His mind had unwillingly envisioned them together dozens of ways, but none of them had been this sweet, or this loving. Faced with it, he could no longer deny that they really were in love, and that Harry was happier than Ron had ever seen him. He sighed, surprised by a slight tingling in this throat. He opened his mouth, testing out his voice. It was back.

"I've never turned my back on my best mates, deciding I didn't need them anymore just because I'd found someone to shag," Ron said hoarsely, his throat raw from the spell.

Harry broke away from the kiss, his eyes flicking to his still-full glass of Firewhisky resting on the table. He made no move to grab it, and more of the tension flowed out of Ron as he realized the Truth spell wasn't making Harry drink.

"I didn't turn my back on you, Ron," Harry said softly, his heart clenching at the thought that Ron believed he'd deserted him. He'd thought his problem was Draco, or that Harry was gay. "I Owled you every week, but they all came back unopened. I even stopped by the Burrow at Easter, but you'd gone to Romania to see Charlie."

Ginny nodded sadly. "I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't let me say anything about Harry. He and Draco both stopped by. They had lunch with me and Mum."

"Your letters – I thought they'd just be attempts to tell me about how great Malfoy –"

"Some of them were," Harry cut in, frowning. "But most of them were just about daily life at Durmstrang. How much colder it was than here. How much you'd have liked the Quidditch coach there. The fact that they'd never heard of Shepherd's Pie. Just things like that."

Ron was silent, staring at his swollen hand, which he'd rested in his lap.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said quietly. The rest of the room was silent, watching the estranged friends talk. "I didn't realize you felt that way. You'll always be my best mate. You still were, even when you weren't talking to me."

Hermione put her arm around Ron, resting her head on his shoulder. Like Harry, she'd thought the reason behind his anger was the fact that Harry had run off with Draco, not that he'd left in the first place.

"I guess that changes things, then," Ron said, his voice a bit stronger. He looked up, his back straightening.

"I've never forgiven a friend for being an absolute arse," he said softly, his eyes locking on Harry's.

Harry grinned, picking up his drink and downing it in one swallow. Most of the rest of the room – including Ron – also drank.

"Enough of this," Draco said, clapping his hands. Music started up, and the sofas and chairs began to scoot toward the walls, drawing shrieks and squeals from the people still sitting on them. "Why are we all sitting around? This is a party!"


The room straightened itself around them, empty liquor bottles disappearing, dirty plates and glasses vanishing from the tables and floor. It changed and morphed, shrinking and rearranging itself until it looked just as it had that fateful weekend so many months ago.

"Such a romantic," Harry teased, kissing Draco softly on the lips as he looked around the room. His gaze fell on the solitary bed, which seemed much more inviting now than it had been then.

"Going to sleep on the floor this time, Potter?" Draco sneered, his eyebrows rising in challenge.

"When there's a perfectly comfortable bed and a gorgeous bloke willing to share it? I don't think so," he answered, wrapping his arms around Draco's shoulders so their faces almost touched.

"Good answer," Draco whispered, kissing the tip of Harry's nose. "Much better than last time."

Harry grinned, grabbing Draco's hand and pulling him toward the bed. They fell into it laughing, wrestling briefly with each other as they struggled to pull their clothes off. Just like their last time in the room, both of them were already hard, already past the point of painful arousal. It had been torture not being able to touch Draco any way he wanted all night, but Harry had restrained himself, knowing the tentative peace they'd struck with Ron would have been ruined if he'd given in to temptation and frotted against Draco on the dance floor.

"Truth or dare?" Draco whispered, his lips ghosting down Harry's bare torso.

"Truth," he gasped, arching as Draco's tongue traced the ridge of muscle near his hip.

"Who gives better head? Smith or Blaise?"

Harry laughed, letting his fingers tangle in Draco's soft hair.

"Draco Malfoy gives better head than either of them."

"That's right," Draco growled, licking Harry's cock from root to tip. "Draco Malfoy gives the best head you'll ever have. Because I don't intend to let you gather any more data."

"Mmm," Harry said, his breath hitching as Draco's mouth returned to his cock, licking and sucking in earnest. "No complaints here."

Harry sighed when Draco's mouth left him. He watched as Draco picked up the closest wand – his own familiar piece of holly, which they'd found worked every bit as well for Draco as it did for Harry – and cast a series of spells to stretch and lubricate him. Harry grinned at the odd sensation, his cock jumping in anticipation of feeling Draco's hard length slide inside him.

"How do you want it?" Draco whispered, his husky voice sliding over Harry's skin like a caress.

"Hard and fast," he answered, moaning when Draco responded by sliding first one, then two long, slender fingers inside him, checking that the spell had done its job. It had. Harry was relaxed and loosened, Draco's fingers moving easily as they scissored inside him.

He chuckled when Harry ground against his hand, crooking his finger and gently stroking Harry's slick channel until he found what he was looking for. Harry gasped and moaned – sounds mirrored by Draco, whose cock jumped painfully at the sight of Harry writhing on the bed – as Draco's fingers found his prostate, whimpering as Draco stroked it mercilessly.

"Fuck," Harry whined, still thrusting himself on Draco's hand.

The blond laughed again, withdrawing his hand. Harry didn't have a chance to protest the loss, since Draco quickly positioned his cock at his entrance, his eyes drifting closed as he entered Harry. As he always did, Harry felt impossibly tight as Draco pushed inside, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought his orgasm. Fucking Harry was always on the verge of being too much for him to bear. It was so much more intense than any of the other men he'd been with – so much more than just sexual gratification. Harry, his Harry, was sharing this part of himself, willingly taking part of Draco into his body. Draco shuddered, a spark of pleasure running through him at the thought. Not that he didn't love it when Harry fucked him – he did, every bit as much as this – but something about being the one in control, the one taking care of Harry, made topping him that much more exciting.

He opened his eyes, stormy grey meeting burning green. They moved together in harmony, like lovers who had been together years instead of months. They knew exactly what to do to trigger moans and gasps from each other, exactly how to move to bring their bodies closer, deeper.

Draco ran his hand up Harry's cock, stroking it gently. He knew they were both close, but he wanted to draw it out. He slowed his own strokes, taking care to control his movements, sending his cock over Harry's prostate with uncanny precision. He knew Harry's body better than his own.

"Merlin, Draco," Harry groaned when he finally sped up his strokes, his hand closing more tightly over Harry's cock as his hips snapped faster, the steady motion causing heat to pool in Draco's stomach.

He felt his balls tighten, and he jerked Harry's cock harder, twisting his wrist the way he knew Harry loved when he felt the dark-haired wizard begin to stiffen underneath him. Then they were both coming, whispered declarations of love falling from their lips as they found their release.

Draco let his forehead fall, resting it on Harry's chest as he caught his breath.

"Didn't want to go fast," he panted, kissing the salty golden skin. "Sorry."

Harry laughed, his breath still coming in uneven gasps. "No problem."

Draco smiled, stretching as he pulled out of Harry and flopped on the bed, exhausted. It had been a long day, starting with a Portkey ride from Durmstrang before dawn. He blinked sleepily as realized it had been nearly 24 hours since they'd slept.

He stretched again as he felt Harry's nonverbal Cleaning spell wash over him, removing the sweat and come, leaving his skin slightly tingly. He desperately wanted a real shower, but he was too tired – it could wait until after they'd slept. McGonagall knew they were staying in the Room of Requirement, since they'd needed her permission to access it for the party. She'd agreed to let them spend the night there, too, since it made more sense than them sleeping in their old dorms. Everyone would be leaving tomorrow, and he and Harry planned to catch a ride back to London on the Hogwarts Express, one last ride for old times' sake.

"Do you think he meant it?" Harry asked out of the blue, and Draco didn't need to ask who. Ron had promised to try to accept their relationship, even going so far as to grudgingly shake Draco's hand as he left that evening.

"I do."

Harry was silent a moment, rolling to his side to look at Draco's face, which glowed slightly in the moonlight streaming in through the enchanted window. Harry looked outside, knowing the sun would likely be rising soon. They'd spent most of the night dancing and drinking, simply enjoying themselves with their friends. No one had left angry, and Harry was relatively sure no one would head to the newspapers to sell the story. His mouth tightened at the thought, but he let it go. It was a risk he and Draco had willingly taken.

"It went well," Draco whispered, pushing a lock of dark hair out of Harry's face. "We did the right thing."

Harry smiled, happy Draco was so easily able to read his thoughts. He wondered if it would always be like this – if they'd always be so in tune with each other. Merlin, I hope so, he thought, reaching out for Draco in the darkness. What if he stops loving me? What if we don't stay together? What would I do if I lost him again?

"Promise me we'll come back here sometime," he said, his lips hovering just above Draco's. Suddenly it was vitally important to Harry to know if Draco felt the same ridiculous attachment to the room he did, to confirm that their awkward weekend there was something the blond cherished as well. "Promise me."

Draco raised his head, his lips molding around Harry's as he tried to kiss away whatever worry had caused Harry's brow to furrow.

"Did you know sunspots happen on a regular cycle?" Draco asked, his face close enough to make out the surprise in Harry's green eyes. "They happen fairly regularly, but they hit a high point in the cycle every eleven years or so."

Harry's eyes widened, and Draco grinned.

"I looked it up. We're at a high spot now," Draco continued, moving his hand so he could run his fingertips up Harry's bare back. Harry shivered, as much from Draco's words as from the light caress.

"I promise we'll make time to return every decade or so," Draco whispered, closing the distance between them to kiss Harry's open mouth gently.

"No matter what else is going on in our life. We'll come back to remember our weekend, even when it means taking a vacation from work or our other responsibilities," Draco said, kissing Harry gently.

Harry shivered again, envisioning the life Draco was describing. "Or finding someone to watch our children for us while Father and Daddy steal away for a few days."

He kissed Harry more deeply this time, his gaze never leaving Harry's, enjoying the way his green eyes darkened at the words.

"Did you know sunspots make things go haywire?" Draco whispered, grinning when Harry shifted and climbed on top of him, clearly ready for another round. "Muggle technology failing, magic on the fritz, mortal enemies shagging … the world goes crazy."

"Tell me more about this shagging," Harry whispered, pressing his body against Draco's. "That sounds promising."