Title: Of Secret Shags, Talks, and Fainting.

Disclaimer: I'm not blonde. I'm not British. I'm not white. Or rich. Hence, I'm not JKR, and none of this is mine. Like...NOT ONE SINGLE BIT. *sob*

Pairings: Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny.

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,978

Warnings: DH spoilers, sexual content, language, mentioned death.

Summary: Remus and Sirius decided to give Harry The Talk a few months after the final battle. But has Harry already done the dirty, so to say? And with whom exactly? And is that...Lucius Malfoy fainting?

Author's Note: Yay! Another story. A slash. My first attempt EVAR! Just a note: Sirius and Remus survived beyond the battle. But other than that, no one else. Everything other than Sirius' death in DoM and Remus dying at the Battle of Hogwarts is cannon.

"Morning, Harry."

"Good morning."

Harry Potter grunts into his coffee cup. "What's so good about it?" He hasn't really been planning on waking up at six in the morning, but Ron's snores have just gotten a wee too loud. So he has decided to come downstairs early and make himself some dark coffee to wipe away the sleepiness. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin's cheerful faces aren't helping the cause.

"Just an expression," Remus says smilingly.

Harry scoffs. "Right."

"Actually..." Sirius glances uncertainly at Remus. "We're glad you're awake before Ron and we have chance to talk to you alone."


"Yes," Remus says with a hesitant glance at Sirius, cheerfulness disappearing. "Sirius and I...we would like to talk to you."

Harry waits for him to elaborate. When that doesn't happen, he turns to his godfather: Sirius too, is fidgeting and glancing at Remus nervously.

"Well," Remus continues. "Sirius and I were talking. And before, with the war and everything...there wasn't really a right time to, you know, expla-"

"If this is about you and Sirius after the Battle, don't worry. I know. And no, I haven't told anyone."

He is referring of course, to the very intimate scene of Sirius consoling Remus over Tonks' death. Nothing indecent, oh no. Just soft, comforting words and gently, almost non-existent touches. Sirius would never be so insensitive as to jump on Remus right then. And now, three months later they are playing the same game Ron and Hermione had been playing for years: Ignore ignore ignore. Deny deny deny. Harry finds the whole thing ridiculously amusing.

Ron had been with him that day when Harry and Ron went up to their dormitories for well needed sleep; he had promised to keep quite about it. But he had said he would tell Hermione. As far as Harry knows, him, Ron, and Hermione are the only ones. But he needn't panic Sirius and Remus with that information.

Remus' eyes widen exponentially and Sirius decides the crack in the corner of the ceiling is fascinating. Harry can't help but laugh.

"What, you didn't think I would know? You were in the Gryffindor dormitory."

Remus coughs uncomfortably. "Er...right. This isn't-we just wanted to talk. About you."

Harry frowns. "Talk? About me?"

Remus nods, not exactly looking at Harry, but not looking away entirely like Sirius. He does, however, look exponentially out of his depth. "Yes, well, see...you're eighteen now..."

"Uh-huh." Harry nods, unsure where this was going. It takes all of his willpower not to say, 'Thanks, Captain Obvious.' They look like they want to talk about something serious.

"And Sirius-" Remus glances at said man for support, but Sirius was still studying the crack. "-Sirius and I decided we should talk. Even if it's a bit..."

"Late," Sirius offers when Remus can't seem to find the right word. "But there was always something or other going on, and never the right time to-" He makes impatient hand gestures. "Talk," he finishes lamely.

"Right." Remus fidgetes with his shirt sleeve. "And we thought now's a-a proper time-and-what I'm-" He looked at Sirius helplessly.

"What Moony's trying to say is that you're eighteen now-"

"You said that already," Harry can't help but point out, his brows furrowing as he tries to make sense of what his godfather and potential godfather-in-law(was that the term?) are saying.

Sirius cleares his throat deliberately. "...Right. Right, yeah, we did. And you might, you know, wanad'smngswipl," Sirius finishes, mumbling incoherently.

Harry blinks. "Sorry? I really didn't catch the last part."

Sirius mumbles something again, his face flushed. Harry looks at Remus questioningly only to find the werewolf as red as-well, a Weasley.

"What?" Harry says, leaning forward across the table to hear Sirius speak.

"Y-you might..." Sirius takes a deep breath as though steeling his resolve. "You might want to do some...things."

Things? What things? Harry looks from Sirius to Remus in confusion.

"With people," Remus adds.

Oh. Oh. Those things. Those...things...

He can't believe this. He cannot believe they're...oh God!

"No," Harry says sharply, pushing away from the table."No, we're not doing this, alright? God, why would you-that's not-"

"Harry, sit down," Sirius says warily. "Look, we have to-"

"No! Look, I get it, alright. All the birds and bees and..." He waves his hand dismissively, casting his mind for the right word. He finally settles on "crap. You don't have to tell me."

"Actually," Remus smiles wanly. "We do."

Harry begins backing away from them as though they are a pair of explosives. "No...you really don't. I can live without that mortification, thanks. Besides, you're a bit late, alright?"

Remus and Sirius looks like Harry has smacked them with one of the tomes Hermione read for 'just a bit of a light reading.' "What?"

Shit. Shit shit shit. Bloody buggering fucking shit. He should not have said that. He should not have said that.

No. He should have kept quiet like a good little boy and ran for it at the first sign of discomfort. Like when Sirius started turning that interesting shade of red. He can still book it. And lock his door. And ward it for extra measures. And never ever show his face to the two men who were the closest he will ever get to a father.

Or maybe he can leave the country.

They won't come searching for him in Somalia, would they? Or Antarctica?

"What do you mean, late?" Sirius demands.

Remus rolls his eyes. "I'm sure you know exactly what it means, Padfoot." Sirius glares.

"Er..." Harry scratches the back of his neck.

"With who?"

"Whom," Harry corrects automatically, wincing at his folly. Improper English isn't likely to deter the Animagus.

"I don't give a damn! Why haven't I heard of this?"

Yes. Running sounds like a sound option. Or maybe being an Animagus.

He would make a fine sparrow- easy to hide and fly away. How long would the process take, he wonders. Would it be possible in the next ten seconds?

Or maybe he can take a Shrinking Solution and Sirius will never find him. Damn! Where was Snape when you needed him?

Oh, right. Dead.

Harry's face feels like it's on fire; he is sure he has surpassed red and gone on to a purple worthy of Uncle Vernon.

"Because it wasn't a big deal?" he answers meekly, wishing the wall he is pressed against will swallow him up, trying, trying oh-so-hard not to think about that day. Or about the word hard.

Fuck, he is wearing jeans.

The images rush past him; standing in front of the Room of Requirement, the thrown curses, the yelling, the attempt at punching, soft, soft blonde hair tickling his cheek as he snarls something irrelevant, the flushed faces, the blood rushing to other body parts.

Oh gods. Oh no, no, no, no, no!

Harry bites down on his lip harshly and clenches his hands, trying desperately to will the thoughts away.

Maggots. Garden gnomes. Kreacher! Ugh. That is just disturbing.

What was it Snape had said?

Discipline your mind.

Harry exhales, relieved. Thoughts of the hook-nosed professor work. Work very well.

Harry opens his eyes- and when had he closed them anyhow?- to find Sirius and Remus with identical smirks curving their lips.

A renewed flush creeps over his face. "Shut up," he mumbles, inching closer to the door to escape.

Remus shrugs and shakes his head. "We're not saying anything."

"Brilliant. I'll just...go then." Harry's hand is almost touching the doorknob when, with a flick of Remus' wand, the door closes itself. Harry groans.

This, he knows, is worse than any Cruciatus Voldemort could have cursed him with. Much, much worse.

"Sit. Down."

"This is unnecessary," Harry grumbles, sitting down, nonetheless.

"I think not," Sirius retorts. "You've been keeping things from us." All signs of discomfort are replaced with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Sirius no longer looks like a godfather just giving The Talk.

Harry doesn't trust that glint. In fact, it makes him want to run screaming from the room. Harry wonders whether the Sorting Hat hadn't made a mistake not putting Sirius in Slytherin like the rest of his family.

He wonders how they will react when they found out just how much he has been keeping from them.

"Now," Sirius leans backward, legs kicked up onto the table, hands folded behind his head, and whispers conspiratorially, "why haven't we been told of this development?"

Oh Merlin, this ias beyond embarrassing, discussing his sex life in the kitchen with his godfather being so blasé about the whole affair.

"Right," Harry says drily. "I can imagine the letter. 'Dear Sirius. I've just fucked. Kaythanksbye, Harry.'"

Remus fights to suppress a smile. Harry glowers at him, and Sirius for good measure.

Sirius gives his bark like laugh. "So. Was it a certain red head? I bet it was." Sirius continues, misinterpreting Harry's splutters and turns to Remus. "Didn't I tell you the Potter men had a thing for redheads."

Dear God, just what Harry needs: Being compared to his father. Now.

He does not ever want to think about his father and mother having...doing...in that context.

Especially when it isn't true.

Not the part about red heads. Harry will be the first to admit Ginny is gorgeous, but ever since the war, and Fred, and...everything, Harry knows Ginny and him aren't right. They want different things- like the same type of equipment in their bed partners. And lots and lots of angry sex.

Unbidden to his mind, an image of a bed in a fully repaired Room of Requirement flashes by. A bed occupied by a boy- man, really- with exquisite pale skin.

Harry bites down on his lip once more as his toes curl from the memory.

Sometimes, he wonders whether staying in Hogwarts to repair the castle had been a good idea. Would things have been different had he not remained at the wrecked castle? And what, pray tell, will he do now that he was back in his godfather's house, without a certain Slytherin someone?

Remus seems to have a thoughtful expression. It is worse than Sirius' glint. Harry remembers that for all his bookish quietness, Lupin is still a Marauder. Still capable of mischief like Sirius. "So you did, Sirius. My question is, does a certain Ronald Weasley know?"

Harry pales, not because they are right about Ginny, but because no one, no fucking one (well, Hermione, but she was just weird that way) knows about Harry's- um, preferences.

He isn't sure how Ron will take it.

There has to be some sort of spell that will allow the Earth to swallow him up, surely, so he doesn't have to go through the painful process of coming out like this? He will look it up in the vast Black library as soon as this torture session is over. Just in case Ron decides to take up where Voldemort failed and kill Harry.

His only solace is that they seem to think it was Ginny. Maybe he should just let them? It would save so much hassle.

Yes. Yes, let them think it was Ginny. After all, they won't speak to her about any of this, would they? The two grinning men had to have some boundaries, right?


Right. What was it the Sorting Hat said about Harry and doing well in Slytherin? He supposes he should call on that dormant Slytherin side of him.

"N-no," Harry fakes a stammer, widening his eyes in what he hopes to be terror.

"Ah-hah." Sirius nods, seemingly satisfied.

Here, Harry decides to cast a terrified look at the door as though Ron himself is about to come in brandishing his wand, cursing Harry into oblivion. It seems to do the trick.

Remus and Sirius exchange another amused glance.

"Well," Sirius says, balancing his chair on two legs. "We can't have the girl's brother knowing, can we? Goodness knows she has too many. You'd be black and blue before you could say 'Oh shit.' Trust me, I've been there."

Remus gives Sirius a sidelong glance.

Harry quirks an eyebrow, amused. "Whose sister have you been shagging?"

"No one's," Sirius replies a bit too quickly.

It's Harry's turn to grin, glance at Remus and say, "Ah-hah."

Remus barely conceals a snort, leans forward and gazes at Harry seriously with his amber gaze. "Harry, the point is..."

And that is about the time Harry stops listening about charms and potions and Muggle contraceptives and don't worry Harry, they work just as well as magical methods.

Harry just hopes this little fib- alright, blatant lie- about Ginny won't leave the shared home in which he lives with Ron, Sirius, Remus, and Teddy.

He hopes as hell the news doesn't reach Ron especially. That would not bode well.

At all.

It's New Year's Eve. Harry and Ron have a week off from Auror training and Hermione is back from Hogwarts for the holidays, but he hasn't seen either since the two disappeared into the garden awhile back. Oh, no, wait...there they are looking flushed and rumpled.

Harry is busy weaving through the packed bodies at the Burrow, trying to out-weave Ginny as she pursues him around the house, trying to catch him under the single, solitary, moving Mistletoe.

He can see Sirius and Remus' intrigued glances follow him around every time he ducks behind another red-head as the youngest Weasley hunts him down.

Of course, Harry still hasn't told his godfather or his former professor of his relationship- if it could indeed be called that- with a certain blonde. They hava the complete right to frown and puzzle over Harry's cold, and somewhat comical reception toward the girl he'd allegedly slept with.

An hour into the celebrations, Harry is speaking with Mr. Weasley and Bill about the new filtering out of corruption in the Ministry of Magic when he notices the wave like silence that spreads through the laughing house.

Everyone has their eyes trained on the door.

Molly Weasley moves toward the doorway, smiling broadly, welcoming the newcomers into her home.

Harry sees a flash of pale silver blonde and that is enough.

Harry's jaw drops.

Oh no. No, no, no, no. What is Mal- Dra- Malfoy doing here? With his...mother?

And is that- yes, that's definitely Andromeda.

Harry sees Remus go up to warmly greet them. He kisses the women on the cheek, and shakes Malfoy's hand cordially like they have done this often.

What. The. Fuck?

Harry edges closer to Sirius, his bewilderment increasing exponentially when Narcissa Malfoy rocks Teddy, Harry's godson, back and forth with a warm smile on her face.

"Have I landed in an alternate universe?" Harry asks his godfather.

Sirius gives his bark like laugh and slaps Harry on the back good-naturedly. "Nah. Andy and Cissa made up after the war." With that, Sirius too walks to the latest guests, booming a hearty, "Feels like I'm ten again. If only dear Mum were around, and Regy of course," at which Narcissa Malfoy rolls her eyes elegantly and Andromeda laughs.

The hilarity of the situation is not lost on Harry; the two sisters are in the house of their third sister's murderer. Not that anyone regrets that particular death.

Harry looks around wildly to catch Ron's eye, but his best friend seems unperturbed by the presence of the blonde invasion. Not that Harry is a hypocrite...much.

He just likes to compartmentalize and keep his...relations separate. And Draco Malfoy coming to the Burrow for New Year's is anything but separate.

Harry's two lives are clashing more starkly than Ron's hair and the color pink.

He is just contemplating his escape when the crowd clears in front of him and Dra- Malfoy, Harry reminds himself sternly- looks right at the raven-haired man.

Harry blinks. Draco smirks. Harry arches an eyebrow. Draco sneers. "Potter."

He says it with such venom that Harry himself wonders whether or not they had been fucking for the better part of the last six months. The others look on, no doubt expecting wands to be drawn.

But Harry is above that. He is going to be calm and cool and mature, and ignore that fact that the absolute god he had seen half naked, trousers pooled at the ankles in a stall in the loo at Leaky Cauldron less than three hours ago is standing here in his second home, smirking. Knowingly.

"Malfoy," Harry bites out with feigned disdain.

"Now, you two. I won't have any wands drawn tonight," Mrs. Weasley says, waggling her finger sternly at Harry as though he is the one who will whip his wand out at any second.

Not that Harry doesn't want to, of course. It just isn't the wand Molly is talking about.

"Yes," the blonde drawls, his cheeky smirk widening. "We all know how Potter's fond of whipping his wand out. Especially in bathrooms."

Harry narrows his eyes, warning Draco- fuck, Malfoy, dammit! They weren't on first name basis. They were just...something.

"Shut it," Ron growls, pulling Harry away from the blonde. "Bloody Ferret-Face. Dunno why Mum had to let them come. Told her it wouldn't do any-"

"You knew they were coming?" Harry says incredulously.

Ron grimaces apologetically. "Sorry, mate. Mum asked me not to say anything to you. I mean, with you and Malfoy it's always a bit...you know."

Harry frowns. He does know. He knows a lot more than Ron, at any rate.

Harry also knows Draco- he might as well get used to it- would never out Harry tonight, so publicly, because, well he'll be outing himself too, won't he?

Yes, Harry decides, he will.

Harry nods curtly to Ron and moves into the kitchen where there are no female redheads nor any half-Blacks.

He makes small talk with the people there, sipping his butterbeer. He has most certainly not placed himself in such a way that he will be able to see if a certain blonde happens to pass by the kitchen door.

He nods a couple of times, barely listening to what Charlie is saying about dragons. Hagrid seems much more interested in the subject. All Harry has to do is nod and allow his mind to wander.

Harry most certainly does not glance at the door one more time, really, he doesn't. He's only on the lookout for Ginny.

Yes, maybe he should have officially told her he doesn't want to get back with her. But this thing with Draco isn't permanent, is it?

It's just fun. Fun and shagging. Lots and lots of shagging.

Harry has taken to making lame excuses to be out of the house most weekends just so he can meet Draco in one of their many discrete meeting locations. They usually vary from the Hog's Head to the the Leaky Cauldron to Grimmauld Place, where no one ever goes anymore.

It isn't that he doesn't want to tell Remus and Sirius. Hell, if there are two people who most certainly wouldn't care, it is them. It's everyone else he is worried about.

Besides, they aren't in a proper relationship. They just meet and bugger each other. And, yes, okay, they have drinks sometimes, and they do go for dinner all the way up north where no one will recognize them. But those are just a few isolated incidents. That don't mean they are dating. And it most certainly doesn't make Draco his boyfriend.

No. No, it does not.

They are only...fuckbuddies.

Harry internally winces at the crude fact.

But fact nonetheless.

The conversation about dragons has moved outside into the yard where Mrs. Weasley has set up three large tables groaning under the weight of her delicious food.

Harry is seated between Ginny and Hermione, and coincidentally across from Draco.

This will have been fine, but Ginny is trying to clutch at Harry's thigh under the table, and Draco's features range from smug smirk to disapproving glare at Ginny's upper arm which is all he can see. Harry, meanwhile, is trying to put as much distance between the rather gropey redhead and himself to no avail. It doesn't help that Hermione keeps glancing questioningly between Harry, the hand on his thigh, and Draco.

"...'Sright, townsfolk are sayin' Shrieking Shack's haunted again-"

Harry chokes. Draco coughs. Harry turns a red fit for a Weasley. Draco pales.

"A'right Harry?" Hagrid leans across Ginny and thumps Harry's back firmly.

Remus and Sirius look to Hagrid interestedly.

"What do you mean it's haunted again?" Harry manages through wheezes. "Wasn't haunted in the first place, was it?" He indicates to Remus and Sirius.

Sirius grinns. "Nah, but it always scared the villagers. What do you reckon it is, Hagrid?"

"Dunno. Sounds come at the oddest times. There hasn't been a fixed pattern or anythin'."

"Huh...let us know if you find anything- Oy, Mini Cissa, pass the salt."

Harry attempts to suppress the laugh that bubbles up to his throat at Sirius' nick name for Draco, but fails. Ron is loudly guffawing next to Hermione while Narcissa glares across the table at her cousin. Sirius grins, winking at Harry before taking the salt shaker from a very red-faced Draco who is glaring at Harry with much more severity than his mother.

Remus sighs exasperatedly and apologizes to Draco on Sirius' behalf, not that it takes the devilish grin of the dark-haired man's face.

And just like that, the renewed shrieking of the Shack is forgotten.

Draco and Harry make sure not to meet each other's eyes the rest of the meal, along with avoiding Hermione's shrewd glances.

But Harry hardly notices them, because Draco is all but fucking his spoon as he slurps the soup, and Harry is getting hard, and he knows- just knows- Ginny thinks it is because of her when the truth couldn't be farther.

The entire time Harry sits across from Draco, all he can think is how amazing his blonde hair would look against the dark green of the Weasley's bathroom wall off the kitchen while Harry kisses him until Draco's lips are raw and he can't see without looking crosseyed. So that's just what he does when dinner is over and everyone is saying goodbye and Draco is going to get one last drink of water before he leaves.

Harry pulls him into the darkened hallway, pressing Draco back until the bathroom door opens with a thud and they stumble in, without breaking their bruising kiss.

"Fucking tease," Harry growls, roughly shoving his knee thigh between Draco's knees as the blonde smirks against his lips.

Draco mumbles something about Weasley and chit and Goddamned mistletoe, but Harry doesn't hear. He's too busy feasting on marble smooth skin while skilled hands attached to the torso belonging to the neck being caressing Harry's chest, nipples, waist, hips, slowly sinking beyond the waistband to wrap themselves around Harry's achingly hard cock.

Draco is rutting against him, softly rasping, "No pants. Now who's the tease, Potter?"

Harry doesn't answer, only shoves his thigh harder against Draco's groin, making him cry out and bite Harry's neck as wetness spreads between them. Harry knows it's going to bruise. He doesn't care.

Two more thrusts into Draco's hand and Harry's coming too, stifling his scream into the nape of Draco's neck, soft hair tickling his cheek as starts burst behind his closed eyelids.

He pants, their mingled breathing sounding like a fright train in the quiet bathroom. Draco pulls him into another kiss- this one more gentle and drawn out. Harry feels Draco's pulse slow down to a normal rate as his breathing evens.

Harry pulls back, looking into those deceptively cold grey eyes. "Fuck, Malfoy." Malfoy- always Malfoy out loud. If he ever knew Harry thinks of him as Draco now...he doesn't want to imagine the mocking.

Malfoy is better than being snubbed. Or worse, rejected.

Rejected for what exactly, he isn't sure.

"Fuck indeed, Potter."

Potter and Malfoy. Always Potter and Malfoy.

Never Draco.

Never Harry...


Harry stops pushing on the swing Teddy is sitting on. His breath catches as he sees Draco walk toward the young godfather and godson in casual grey robes.

Dwayco is the fifth word Teddy learned to say. Right after Daddy, Hawwy, Pafoo, and Gamms.

Harry's godson is almost nine months old now, but he speaks like a two year old. Harry is told by all the adults that most magical children develop fast. Harry doesn't care. He's glad he was Teddy's second word. It makes him feel proud.

Remus and Sirius are inside making lunch and or bickering about the stagnancy of their relationship.

Sirius wants it to go farther, Harry knows, but Remus still isn't certain how Tonks would feel, and whether or not Andromeda would be accepting, despite Sirius' insistence that Teddy needs another parental figure in his life.

Harry refrains from pointing out that since Sirius, Remus, and Teddy live in the same house, the Animagus is an undeclared parental figure. But Remus is stubborn, and Sirius impatient. Harry wonders if all families are like this; with two bickering adults.

He knows that is what Ron and Hermione will do most of the time when they move in together after Hermione finishes Hogwarts now that Ron has saved up all that money from working part-time with George while doing Auror training.

Harry doesn't know, never having witnessed two normal adults.

Vernon and Petunia don't count.

Harry focuses back onto Draco. He's less that two feet away.

With a cursory glance at the house to make sure Remus and Sirius are to engrossed to pay attention to them, Harry brushes his fingers up Draco's arm.

The need to touch him- to feel him whenever he's around is too immense to push down.

Harry wants to tell. Oh he so wants. But Draco doesn't.

Draco isn't sure about how his mother, his father will take it.

Harry wants to tell him to forget about them. Because dammit, they aren't just fuckbuddies. Because Harry feels something around Draco.

And he knows- he sees it in the grey eyes whenever they're meeting in one of their many hideaways- that Draco does too, although neither are saying it.

"Hey," Harry whispers, lightly brushing his lips against Draco's earlobe under the pretext of handing a bouncing Teddy over to his favorite cousin.

He notes the shiver that passes though the blonde with some fascination. It makes him wonder how exactly he ended up in a position where a whispered word from him has the power to make Draco Malfoy come in his pants, and vice versa.

"Hey." Draco smiles softly. So softly, in fact, that one wouldn't know it was there were they not paying attention to the slight tilt to his lips.

For the rest of the world, Draco and Harry still barely tolerate each other. And even then, it was only for the sake of Teddy, but they both know that isn't the case.

Harry has told Ginny a month ago that nothing can ever happen between them.

It took a party at the Malfoys, and a Slytherin named Astoria flirting with Draco to make him realize it.

All his self control had been spent that night.

Later, after the party, Harry dragged Draco into one of the Manor's many empty rooms, licking, kissing, biting Astoria's girlish scent off Draco, trying not to remember how he laughed as he twirled her around the dance floor.

By the end of the hour, Draco only smelt of spices and semen.

Nothing else.

Sirius calls from the back door leading into the yard that dinner is ready. Harry and Draco walk in, Draco cooing to Teddy the whole time despite his insistence that he hates children.

Remus takes his son from Draco, raising an eyebrow at both of them, he says, "Well, I'm surprised. You two stood outside for ten whole minutes and didn't curse each other."

Draco shrugs, glancing at Harry. "Potter's training to be an Auror. He knows more curses than I do."

Harry flutters his eyelashes, holding a hand over his heart. "Why, Malfoy, was that a compliment?"

Draco rolls his eyes and shoves Harry into the table. "Don't get used to it."

Harry I about to retort, but he catches the knowing look in Remus' eyes and decides not to speak any more. Instead, he goes to help Sirius set the table for five of them.

Ron is in Hogsmeade, visiting Hermione for the weekend.

They settle down to eat; Sirius at one long end, Remus as the other with Teddy's highchair next to him, and Draco and Harry across.

Harry thinks it's perfect: Especially when he toes off his shoe and runs his foot up the inside of Draco's leg, teasingly pressing his toes against Draco's crotch.

Harry smirks into his goblet when Draco gives out a stifled gasp.

Yes, he thinks again, watching Sirius gaze fondly at Remus feeding Teddy, and Draco trying not to squirm. It is perfect.

He misses Sirius' dropped fork and dive under the table to get it.

A/N: Hope you liked it so far. No, this isn't all there is to it. I wouldn't have made it a WIP otherwise. Please read and REVIEW to let me know what you think.