Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot.

A/N: I have not written on ffnet in some time and I even deleted my other 2 stories...or was it 3 stories?...that I had on here. I will be reposting them in time after editing and such. This is the main story I am currently working on. It is DM/HP slash and rated M for future chapters. I have discovered I rather enjoy (though blush as I write it) writing graphic love scenes. OOC for the most part. I would really appreciate reviews because this will be the first male/male fanfic I am writing and posting. If I get enough good reviews I will probably write more male/male Harry Potter fanfics :)


Harry hated being stared at. He hated the attention, the eyes looking, rendering him defenseless to their stares. All he could do was hang his head low and try to ignore it. But that had been when he was a child, a young wizard at Hogwarts, being the Boy Who Lived. Well, he was still the Boy Who Lived, but there was less craze about that these days. People still stared, though. Searching out his scar, staring at it as if it were some sort of talisman against Dark Magic. Harry preferred to think of it as a curse instead of a talisman. It was something he was all too aware of, something he was self conscious of. Which was why he grew his fringe long and allowed it to hide the scar.

These days he was an Auror, Head of the Auror office to be exact. He was plenty happy with his job, it kept him busy, not as busy as it used to but busy enough. It left little time for leisure and he was fine with that too. That meant less time waltzing around so people can crane their necks in an attempt to catch a glimpse of his scar. He hated the bloody thing. It should just fade already. Didn't scars fade? He supposed, or rather Hermione did, that since it was a magical scar that it would not fade, unfortunately. He had suggested, much to her horror, that he cut it off and be done with it. Hermione had been quick to question his mental state with that one. He had assured her that his mental state was quite stable, or at least as stable as it's ever been. She had narrowed her eyes in that Hermione way that spoke volumes without her speaking a single word. Perhaps that was a female trick because Harry knew many women who could do such a thing.

It was the end of his shift and he was whistling a tune that would suggest he was very tone deaf as he packed his case with documents he'd have to go over. It just so happened that the one that demanded the most attention was the one he was hoping he never had to get to. But, as with everything else, this subject matted needed to be settled so he could finally put the past behind him. Just one more trial. Just one more altercation. Just one more...and the War will be completely in his past. That is, if Draco Malfoy was found guilty under the Wizengamot. Time would tell, and the only time Harry had left to go over all of the documents and witness accounts and evidence was a single week. Seven lousy days to go over decades worth of information. He should really have not put this one off. All the other trials were easily pronounced guilty and sentenced to either Azkaban or subjected to the Dementor's Kiss. Harry knew personally what kind of hell that could be. He wished it on no one but he, in the end, did not pass the final judgment.

Harry passed Ron's empty desk, attaching a note reminding the redhead about their annual dinner to commemorate Harry not marrying Ginny. Ron was quite pleased with that and had made such a big deal out of it that he made it a yearly celebration with just the two of them and Hermione. However, it was always Harry who had to remind the youngest Weasley son. Harry made the dire mistake of forgetting one year and Ron blew up at him, only to apologize later and say they could pick it up the following yet. He highly suspected it was Hermione who made her husband apologize to him. He then stopped at Hermione's desk, his best friend was still there, her hair frizzing out considerably. That let him know how stressed she was. How odd, he always thought, how her hair frizzed out under stress no matter what she did with it. She had briefly worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures office until she came to Harry's department. He was glad for it. She lightened Ron's mood.

"Just a moment, Harry. Oh!" She paused to look up at him as he smiled down at her, "You're working the Malfoy case, aren't you? Harry...are you sure you don't want me to take it over?" She asked softly, the concern in her expression making the fine wrinkles in her forehead seem deeper. Funny, she got premature wrinkles when neither Ron nor Harry did. Harry blamed it on how she would always scrunch her face up in concentration. Who knew being smart could be bad for your skin?

"No, thanks though. I need to do this, Mione. I need to get complete closure and I won't get it if I don't personally see to his trial. Besides, I have a first hand account on what happened in the Room of Requirement and also with his mother in the Forest. I can do this. I HAVE to do this. I'll be fine." He said, not only to reassure her but himself as well. He looked around with a frown and Hermione sighed, reading his mind.

"He's gone to the Leaky Cauldron. Apparently it's his new thing. Perhaps you can talk him out of it? He's a married man now and has no reason to be prancing around a pub." She said almost scornfully. Harry raised his eyebrows but then nodded.

"Yeah, sure thing. After I get this Malfoy case out of my hair then I will sit him down and scold him for you." He was teasing her and he succeeded in making her smile, her hair seeming less frizzed now that she was relaxing.

"Thank you, Harry. Now get home and get working on that case. Seven days!" She called after him, as if he needed reminding. It wasn't like he could forget when his final confrontation with Draco Malfoy would be. In all honesty, it kind of saddened him. He couldn't say that he liked Draco, it was rather that seeing Draco through his trial would be putting an end to his childhood. All in all, he had liked him time at Hogwarts. He had fun, made two of the greatest friends a lad could have, joined a family after a fashion, had adventures, gained the knowledge he would need to make a life for himself. He missed his earlier years at Hogwarts. Anything fifth year and beyond was not really something he missed too much. Although, the Dumbledore's Army thing was something he wished he'd had kept going longer. After all, that was when he received his first kiss...however awkward it had been.

Upon reaching home, Harry tossed his documents on his bed, intent on going through them after his bath. He needed to unwind, shed the days work so that he could concentrate on the newest task at hand. Draco Malfoy. It was a name that no longer left a bitter taste in his mouth. Mrs. Malfoy was found innocent, let go on the fact that Harry had testified on her behalf. Lucius Malfoy, however, was stuck in Azkaban, probably sharing a cell with his son. Harry was slightly worried about facing Draco. How had the boy changed into a man in that environment? Was he even more bitter? Was he even more cruel? Had he gone the way of his aunt Bellatrix? Harry hoped, for both their sakes, that Draco had been able to retain even just a shred of sanity and decency. Because Harry felt he was going to do something incredibly stupid during the trial. And he knew whatever it was that he was going to do was going to free Draco Malfoy. Harry didn't want a Draco Malfoy whose mind was addled to be walking free. He was kind of looking forward to seeing Draco Malfoy in all his glorious, elegant, form.