Disclaimer: I don't own any of the character of Harry Potter or Queer As Folk. Mmmm...boys.

A/N: I'm so so sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. Between work and school I've been kept pretty busy, and I've started on a new original story that actually has physical deadlines, so I have to stay pretty on to p of that. I promise even if it takes me a while to update, I will not abandon this story. This chap is a lot of exposition, and not a lot of dialogue, but it's necessary. There isn't any lemons this time around, but give it time, as I plan on working on the next chapter today, and Harry and Draco's meeting is coming up very very soon. Thanks for reading, adding me to your favorites, adding me to your C2's and reviewing. I love it all!

Draco made his way back to the hotel room he'd reserved for himself in the wizarding section of New York. He knew Kinney was onto him, especially after his little act of barbarism on the street. He felt his cheeks tingle and mentally slapped himself. He was always touchy at the thought of strangers, especially muggles, knowing anything about his past, and Kinney mentioning Granger's name had thrown him completely off guard. As he reached the sitting room of his suite he threw a handful of powder into the floo and shouted "Malfoy Enterprises, President's office, London!" before sticking his head in the green flames. He had to hold his breath at the spinning sensation to avoid chucking his tea onto Pansy, who was sitting at his desk, typing into a spreadsheet.

"Pansy, Dear, you know I love you." Draco began, and was cut off by his secretary-cum-vice-president.

"I know you do, Draco, what do you want?" Pansy replied without looking up from her work, "I'm a bit busy here."

"I can see that. Have I ever told you what a jewel of a VP you are, my best of best friends? You do such wonderful work, and you keep my books so neat and orderly, I'd be lost without you…" Draco continued, knowing he was getting on Pansy's nerves by the sight of her brows furrowing after every compliment.

"Apparently someone got laid last night, or rather, this afternoon your time. Who is he, is he hot, and how long are you going to be?"

"His name is Brian Kinney, he's pretty fucking hot, and he's invited me to visit his house, named Brighton of all things, and I'm not sure how long. Let's say two weeks for now, and if it's longer I'll let you know."

"Fine, Draco. Should I tell your parents your business has been extended or will you?" Pansy grinned at him. Lucius and Narcissa hadn't exactly been thrilled when their only son and heir apparent had come out of the closet, and still hadn't completely given up hope that this was "just a phase."

"I'll send them an owl, the less Father knows, the less he will hurt me." Draco grinned in response as Pansy chuckled and waved goodbye. He pulled himself out of the grate and set about writing a letter to his father, letting him know about the new investment and that he would be stateside for a few weeks to follow up on some financial leads. Even though the elder Malfoy was ostensibly retired from his business, he still liked to be kept up to date, so Draco attempted to send him an owl at least once a week.

As the owl flew from the window, Draco glanced around the suite to make sure nothing had been forgotten. After all, he would be staying with muggles, with the exception of Potter, and he wouldn't be able to just pop back anytime. He slung his back over his shoulder instead of his customary shrinking it, and apparated to the alley closest to the hotel Brian was staying in.


Harry followed Emmett around the clothes shop like a lost puppy. He had never actively shopped for his own clothes, having gone from wearing his cousin's hand-me-downs to letting Hermione or Ginny buy his clothes for him. What they bought that didn't fit could be altered magically, and he was satisfied to finally have clothes that actually fit his frame. He caught a shirt that Emmett flung at his head and added it to the pile of clothes hanging over his other arm.

"Alright, honey, I think that will do us for a while. The fitting rooms are this way."

As Harry made his way to the back of the store, Emmett threw his arm around the smaller man's shoulders and said in a lower voice, "I'm going to go in there with you, so we can have a little chat. Don't be embarrassed, you don't have anything I haven't seen before."

Harry blushed a bit at the blond's frankness, but simply nodded in agreement. When they had locked themselves in an airy cubicle with a small bench, Harry set about to stripping down to his underwear. He wasn't exactly bashful about taking his clothes off in front of other men. The Auror's dressed for work together in the changing room every day, after all, but he was acutely aware that he was in a very small space with a very handsome, very gay man, and he was very horny after his dream.

Harry mentally slapped himself as reminded himself that as far as he knew, he was straight, and had a fiancée back home. He ignored that fact that his stomach twisted a bit and he felt the urge to blow chunks at the thought of marrying his best friends little sister. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to propose in the first place, possibly the fact that he knew she'd been dreaming about marrying him for years, and had practically thrown herself at him since the final battle. He'd been finding reasons to postpone their wedding every since, and he was pretty confident she was shagging Dean Thomas.

"So, I finally get to meet the famous Harry Potter." The sound of Emmett's voice broke Harry from his thoughts.

"And how, exactly, do you know about my fame, when apparently none of your friends do?" Harry asked, feeling a bit like he was in the middle of an interrogation.

"Well, I'm not a wizard, so the subject has never come up, really," Emmett replied thoughtfully, tapping his chin with a forefinger before grabbing Harry by a belt loop and pulling him bodily towards him. "No, that shirt doesn't go with those shoes. Try the green one." Emmett handed him a forest green oxford and Harry set about to changing his clothes again.

"So how is that you know of me?" Harry asked, as he pulled the oxford over his head. He hoped they were getting close to the bottom of the pile.

"Aunt Lula. In Hazelhurst, Mississippi, where I grew up, I spent a lot of time with my Aunt Lula, who everyone always thought was a little on the strange side. A lot of people thought she was crazy, the nicer ones thought she was a little off. She would tell me stories of the magic world where fairies and dragons exist and one of the stories she told me was of Harry Potter the boy hero. I was grown before she admitted she was actually a witch and that the stories she told were true. Of course, I didn't believe her at first, so she showed me some newspapers her family had sent her from England about ten years ago, right about the time you all were in the middle of a war with the crazy guy, Moldyvort or something."

"Voldemort, or his actual name, Tom Riddle." Harry replied, softly, "He was a lot worse than crazy. Megalomaniac would be a better word. It was either kill him, or he would kill me, my family and my friends." Harry pulled on his original shirt and took a deep breath, "I appreciate the effort, Emmett, but just pick something out you think will look good. I trust your judgement."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry." Emmett replied sadly as he pulled the smaller man into a comforting hug. At first, Harry stiffened at the contact. He had never been quite comfortable with gestures of affection, but after a few seconds he relaxed and returned Emmett's embrace. Harry cleared his throat, which had become suspiciously tight as he released the taller man and made his way to the counter at the front of the shop to pay for his purchases.

"So, do you know what we're supposed to be doing tonight?" Harry asked as the cashier swiped the plastic card Hermione had given him.

"Well, Brian is supposed to be home tonight, so I'm pretty sure that no matter where we start, we'll end up at Babylon." Emmett grinned.