Squeak, Squeak-squeak, Squeaaaak.

Harry opened his eyes onto musky smelling sheets, blinking away the tangled images of kilts and butter-cream icing that he'd been dreaming of.


"That is enough!" a sharp voice emanated from what sounded like the kitchen. "Give me that ridiculous thing immediately."


Harry rolled onto his back and threw an arm out, though he already knew he was alone if Draco was bickering with a strange noise in the kitchen. His hand hit the rough wood of the floor and he cursed drowsily, knowing he'd have to put the bed up today if he didn't want to keep doing that every morning."Don't look at me like that, you great lump." the voice in the kitchen scolded, and there was a small scuffle in which many frantic squeaks could be heard, followed by an indignant bark. The back door was opened and the rush of cold air rattled the bedroom door. "Go outside like a normal animal. Shoo." The squeaking object was thrown and Harry heard the unmistakable sound of an oversized Labrador skittering on kitchen tiles and bounding out of the house.

"Draco!" Harry called in a rough voice as the back door was slammed shut. There came no reply, and Harry heard bitter grumblings. "Draco!" The record player was turned on and Harry's voice was lost in the harmony of The Beatle's voices.

"He's a real nowhere man/
sitting in his nowhere land/
making all his nowhere plans for nobody.

Harry smiled absently to himself: it had taken Draco long enough to learn how to work the record player by himself, especially considering that Steven had apparently been trying to teach him for years. Both he and Cherry had visited when Harry had been in the process of moving out of his old flat, his things boxed up all over in precarious spots. Harry had been alone and very much surprised when Cherry had thrown her arms around him on the doorstep, thanking him for making her friend happy and helping him find his strength once more. Steven hadn't spoken, but had grinned at Harry's record collection and shaken his hand by way of approval. Cherry had brought Harry beautifully iced cupcakes in fantastical colours as a house warming gift only last week, stopping to pinch Draco's cheeks and ruffle his hair, telling him he was going to get fat and comfortable at twenty-one.

The door was thrown open, bringing a blast of early winter air and scents of coffee and cedar spiced blonds. "Are you going to lounge there all day?" Draco demanded in his crisp tone, already in his jeans and a green t shirt that looked suspiciously like Harry's. Harry arched his back and stretched, making a lazy noise of protest as Draco set the mug and a copy of the Quibbler down on the floor next to the mattress and sat astride Harry. He certainly wasn't as light as he had once been, and Harry had a feeling it was to do with all the house warming food people had been bringing Harry.

"I was just getting up." Harry grumbled, opening his eyes in surprise when a cold finger and thumb pinched his nose. He tutted. "Stop mucking around will you?"

"Maybe if you finally put the bed up and you didn't have to sleep on the floor, you'd stop being such a miserable git in the mornings." Draco hissed, pulling at tufts of Harry's hair. Harry swatted him away and feigned a scowl, though his hand was tracing subtle inquiries on Draco's thigh. "You're not getting anything." Draco drawled as Harry lifted his hips and pressed as much of his morning arousal as he could into the warmth sat on top of him. "Not after presenting that dog of yours with the infernal squeaking cauldron."

"Will you never forgive me?" Harry groaned dramatically, throwing his head back on the pillow.

"Never." came the whispered response as Draco lowered himself to lay next to him, spreading himself over the mattress and Harry. A soft kiss was pressed into Harry's neck as he stared out of the bay widow across the room. When he had first arrived, he'd barely been able to see out with all the brambles growing in the back garden beyond it, but with Neville offering to help, they had cleared the tangled jungle in one weekend. Charlie had been ecstatic, as he was now able to bound around the scrubby lawn without catching burs in his fur or tripping over tangled weeds. "Want to see what's in the Quibbler today?"

"It isn't!" Harry cried in a scandalised voice, turning his head to look at Draco. "It's been published?" Draco nodded, holding back his own smile. He handed Harry the magazine and ran a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture while Harry scrabbled for his glasses.

When Harry had introduced Luna and Draco once more, much to Draco's horror, they had surprisingly hit it off, comparing camera lenses and developing techniques while Harry listened, relatively clueless. It had obviously been Luna Harry turned to with the idea of finally publishing Draco's work, something that Draco had been valiantly hiding from Harry until he'd put it into print. Luna had agreed, promising it would feature as soon as they'd finished their special on the yeti. With it, she'd also offered Draco a job, and it had taken a whole night for Harry to convince him he deserved it.

How The Muggle Half Live In Britain. - The title read when Harry reached the centre page. Harry sniggered. It had been thought up by a smiley young boy in the Quibbler's head office with quills stowed behind each ear and in every pocket. Draco had made it a point not to laugh at any of his awful puns but to reel them off to Harry in disgust. Draco tutted into Harry's shoulder and Harry drew his eyes to the grid of images.

Immediately he was assailed with memories - both related to his week with Draco and stretching back into his past. Teddy's sandcastle sat on the beach, the feather fluttering slightly in the breeze as the distant waves rolled foamy blue-green in the distance. Charlie looked up at the camera and licked his lips; a line of Harry's mugs sat in a row, the chipped one, the Gryffindor lion, the one with a map of Australia. Draco had photographed their cupcakes; a city street twinkling at night. Glenda, The Hammer and Tongs barmaid pulled a pint behind the bar;a train pulled into Paddington station and a group of girls in shorts and colourful string vests blew kisses to the camera. An elderly couple sat on a park bench, sharing sandwiches and a flask of coffee with their sun hats flopping into their eyes. In the centre was a picture of windswept Draco at Stonehenge, the very same one he had presented to Harry which was currently framed on Harry's bedroom wall. Beneath it read the caption: Pictures courtesy of Draco Malfoy: Avid Explorer. Every picture screamed Muggle and each was alive with vibrant character in a brilliant hue that Draco always managed to capture.

"When did you take all of these?" Harry laughed, hardly ever remembering Draco's camera being out at all.

"I did a bit of sneaking around." he replied softly.

"They're brilliant." Harry breathed. "I'm framing it all." Draco sighed at him, feigning indifference and rolling his eyes as Harry turned to press a kiss against his cheek. "I'm so proud of you." he whispered, pulling Draco down onto the sheets with him, locking eyes with the silvery blue.

"Don't be soft." Draco snorted, running his hand over the stubble on Harry's cheek. Harry ignored him and pushed a tender kiss against his lips.

"When are you moving in?" he demanded.

"When I'm bored of outstaying my welcome." Draco quipped.

A distant squeak-squeak could be heard outside and Draco sighed into Harry's neck. They'd get up soon and Harry would drink the coffee, surely lukewarm by now. Then he would make breakfast and Draco would shout at him for giving Charlie toast. Harry would shout back because he had a stupid Muggle patch on his arm that provided nicotine to stop him smoking, and the lack of cigarettes was driving him up the wall. "Your hands don't know what to do without one." Hermione had offered helpfully while in the process of overseeing Ron assemble Harry's new bookshelf. Draco had caught his eye, and they'd later developed other ways to keep Harry's hands busy, which now meant breakfast and sex came hand in hand.

Until then, Harry traced circles beneath what was definitely his t shirt onto Draco's back, pressing his face into blond hair that was sharp with the fragrance he'd come to associate him with. Draco moved his lips over Harry's neck, clearly giving up the quest to get him out of bed and - by the way his hand was moving rapidly lower beneath the sheets - toying with the idea of having sex beforebreakfast today.

There was a sudden rustle as Draco lifted his head, regarding Harry with a look of total bewilderment. "Do you know something Potter?" he began, his cheeks pink and his hair sticking up on one side. "I think I might just love you."

Harry laughed at the revelation, the joy spreading through his body in rippling waves. He pulled Draco close to him, kissing his lips and breathing in his smell, his satire, the crumbled wall he'd kept up for so long. Just a week – or roughly thereabouts. A week with a camera and a rucksack and a boy he'd known for years and the side of him that had swallowed Harry whole and enveloped him in confusion and desire. "I was beginning to worry you might." he breathed as a pale hand closed tightly around his wrist. Draco let out a wheeze of not-quite laughter. "I love you too," Harry smirked, squinting in the fractured light of the window that was washing over them both and pressing a kiss against the pink cheek. "I love you, Squirrel."

Finite Incantatem

I'm considering a sequel. I'm also considering getting my life back for a while.

I would really appreciate a review on this one. It can be as constructive as you like.

Thank you for reading.