Thanks to certain people begging and others being incredibly persistent, this chapter is going up MUCH EARLIER than planned. LOL! Enjoy! :D


The dinner party was hellish. Marietta Edgecombe wore her hair in an attractive fringe (to cover lasting scars? Harry wondered guiltily and rubbed the back of his hand—he certainly had enough of those to never wish them on anyone else). She glared at him as though he were made of something distasteful.

She turned her stare on Draco. "I thought you were joking," she said.

"Our relationship has been in the papers for weeks, Marietta. Catch up," Draco said and breezed past her to claim his seat at the table.

Dinner was made up of rubbery, overcooked chicken, mushy peas, Brussels sprouts cooked in some horrific sauce, and thankfully passable potatoes. Harry nibbled at most of the meal and consumed all of his potatoes. The starch did little to soak up the wine.

"Stop that," Draco hissed. "How many glasses have you consumed?"

"MANY," Harry said decisively and lifted his current glass for emphasis before downing it.

"Salazar save us," Draco muttered.

"He shan't," Harry said, "because he's dead!"

Heads turned at Harry's last word; apparently it was a faux-pas to speak of dead things at the dinner table, even when the meal was largely finished but for some soggy, coffee-flavoured concoction that had been served for afters.

"Let us retire to the ballroom for some musical entertainment," Marietta's mother said loudly.

Draco leaned close to Harry and growled in his ear over the cover of chairs scraping against the stone floor. Harry quite liked it when he leaned close and growled; if Draco hoped to curtail Harry's bad behaviour by rewarding him, he was certainly doing it wrong.

"I am going to cast a very unpleasant Sobering Charm upon you if you do not behave and stick to our agreed-upon scenario. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Draco got to his feet and followed the others, apparently not seeking an answer. Harry could have told him if he'd stuck around. His feet felt leaden and he bumped painfully into the doorframe on the way out. Perhaps a Sobering Charm would not be a bad idea.

The ballroom was nothing more than a high-ceilinged room draped with fabric in a horrible shade of not-quite-pink. Two gaudy chandeliers lit the room brightly and a large harpsichord played itself in one corner, twinkling out a dolorous tune for two portly couples that twirled upon the polished floor in a waltz.

"Want to dance?" Harry asked brightly, catching up to Draco.

"No, I do not," Draco said. A table against one wall had been stacked with champagne glasses and a naked cupid peed the bubbly liquid into a catch basin—rather revoltingly, Harry thought, and he rebelled at the idea of more drinking for the first time that night. Draco had no such qualms, and held up a glass to catch the liquid that spilled from the thumb-sized penis.

Harry pressed against Draco's back, trapping him against the table. "Did you know I can still speak Parseltongue?" Harry asked. Draco stiffened as Harry hissed into Draco's ear. He couldn't, actually, but who was to know that?

Draco turned around, managing not to spill his champagne, and then gripped Harry's sleeve to drag him away to a corner of the room. "Listen, you. The plan is for you to ogle some fit bloke and for me to act the jealous lover whom you have jilted. Do you remember? Now, stop staring at me like a lovesick puppy, do not tempt me with fucking Parseltongue, and find someone to properly ogle. Granted, the pickings are slim, but that tall fellow over there with Domino Netherwalk is a potential candidate."

Harry grinned. "Were you really tempted by the Parseltongue?"

"The bloke," Draco said warningly.

"Oh all right." Harry pouted, but turned to look at the indicated fellow. "Merlin, no. He's too tall. And all… angle-y."

"You don't need to date him, Potter, you simply need to act as though you find him attractive."

"Well, I don't find him attractive," Harry said belligerently. To please Draco, however, he turned and scanned the room. "How about that bloke, over there. He's not bad."

"Morgan Blythe-Blakely?"

"Impressive name."

"He's happily married. That woman clinging to his arm is his wife."

"Doesn't make him any less fit. What's he do?"

"Something to do with importing, I believe. I don't think he's fit at all."

"Of course he is. Granted, he looks a bit buttoned-up and I hate the way his nice blond hair is all slicked down like that—thank you for not doing that to yours any longer, by the way."

An elbow dug into his ribs. "Ouch! What was that for?"

"Nothing. I am going to go and mingle. You stay here and ogle Blythe-Blakely, if you must. And don't drink anything else." With that, Draco strode away and struck up a conversation with a man Harry vaguely recognized from the Ministry.

Harry turned his attention back to Blythe-Blakely, who was spinning on the dance floor with his wife. He was somewhat attractive, although boring in comparison to Draco. He was also too-muscular and too-tanned. However, in a world without Draco Malfoy, Harry supposed he would suffice. Now, to ogle. He frowned, uncertain how to go about ogling someone you would rather not.

He glanced at Draco instead and grinned. Now, hewas definitely worth ogling. Harry should have known he was doomed from the moment Malfoy had revealed himself in the pub when the Glamour Galleons came off. Draco was slender, elegant, witty, amusing… and disliked him intensely.

Harry sighed heavily.

"Hello, Mr Potter."

Harry dragged his gaze from Draco to find intended target of his ogling smiling at him.

"I am Morgan Blythe-Blakely. I've always wanted to meet you and shake the hand of the man who ended that unpleasantness with You-Know-Who. Terrible time, that." He stuck out his hand and Harry took it absently. Blythe-Blakely had perfect teeth and vaguely reminded him of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Hi," Harry said. "Pleased to meet you. I see you're here with your… lovely wife?" Harry looked around for her and located her near the tea service.

"Indeed. This might seem presumptuous of me and I hope you don't take offense, but honestly it saves time, I have noticed. Anyway, my wife and I are on the adventurous side, having been married many, many years, and we have found that we like to spice things up, as it were, in the bedchamber."

Harry's eyes widened as Blythe-Blakely's voice lowered to a conspiratorial timbre and he leaned close enough that Harry was nearly overpowered by his cologne. Possibly emboldened by Harry's silence, Blythe-Blakely continued, "With that said, we were wondering if you might be up for joining us for a ménage a trois. At your convenience." He pulled back and smiled winningly.

Harry, slightly panicked, looked for Draco.

"Oh, your Mr Malfoy is welcome, as well," Blythe-Blakely said smoothly. "The more the merrier, I say. He is quite fit."

Harry's cheeks were burning and he opened his mouth several times, but no sound emerged. He felt as though a piece of chalk had lodged in his throat.

"No need to answer right away, of course. Take all the time you need to think about it. Here is my card, should you decide in the affirmative. An owl with a simple 'Yes' will suffice." Blythe-Blakely tucked a small white card into Harry's lapel pocket and patted it gently. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy making his way back towards him.

"Um. Thank you," Harry finally managed. "I will. Um. Think about it."

Blythe-Blakely smiled again, bowed, and nodded at Draco before striding in the direction of his wife.

"That seemed to be a bit more than ogling," Draco said with a strange tone to his voice that Harry's hadn't heard before. "What did he want?"

Harry coughed and pulled at his collar. Perhaps he had imbibed a bit too much. It seemed to be too warm in the room. "Er. A threesome." Well, foursome, actually. Harry opened his mouth to tack on that titbit, but Draco's face darkened like a thundercloud.

"What?" he hissed. "And what did you say?"

Harry started at his venomous tone. "I told him I'd think about it."

"Did you?" Draco snatched up Harry's hand and practically dragged him from the room. "I have had enough. We are leaving."

"Okay," Harry said, striving not to trip. He lifted the hand that was not being crushed by Draco's grip and waved. "Bye, Marietta! Lovely party! Thanks for inviting us!" he called.

She gave him a glare and a half-hearted flick of one hand. Draco growled. When the front door had closed behind them, Draco turned to face him. "I will Apparate us, you drunken idiot."

Harry nodded and then had to fight a battle with his stomach as they lurched away and appeared in Harry's kitchen. He let go of Draco and staggered to the sink, fearing the worst.

"Do you want a Sobering Charm?" Draco asked, sounding almost solicitous.

Harry shook his head. "I think I'm okay," he said as the nausea ebbed. He ran some water and splashed it on his face.

"Well. That actually played quite well into our plans." Despite the words, Draco sounded anything but pleased. Harry turned to look at him, blinking at the water droplets that clung to his eyelashes. He Accioed a hand towel and patted at his face.

"I guess," he said dubiously.

Draco sighed and seemed to hesitate before shaking his head. "I will see you tomorrow, then. Don't be late." He turned towards the fireplace.

"Why don't you like vegetables?" Harry asked.

Draco looked over his shoulder and his lips quirked in a bemused fashion. "What?"

"I saw you burying your peas at dinner. And before, you wouldn't eat green beans. What do you have against green vegetables?"

"You noticed that?"

"I've noticed… a lot of things," Harry admitted.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Vegetables are vile. I can tolerate sprouts when properly prepared, but most everything else green is disgusting."


"No, thank you."


"I do not even know what that is, but it sounds unpleasant. Why are we talking about this? You are extremely odd when you are drunk."

Harry was babbling because he didn't want Draco to leave, but he couldn't think of a proper way to stop him.

"Coffee?" Harry asked.

"No, I don't care for coffee, either."

"I meant, would you like some? Or tea? I have Butterbeer. And some Muggle juice that Hermione likes."

Draco gave him a puzzled stare. "No, thank you. I have an early shift tomorrow and then we have our exhibition to stage." He walked to the fireplace and reached into the Floo powder container. He looked at Harry once more. "Are you going to accept Blythe-Blakely's offer?"

Harry's look of abject horror must have been crystal clear, because Draco actually laughed.

"I see. Well, then," Draco said and his voice went soft and quiet, "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Draco."


Harry had a hard time sleeping that night. He finally drifted off in the wee hours of the morning and woke up late feeling tired and out of sorts. Three cups of tea and some toast with jam helped, but did nothing to calm his stomach. It was in knots because of his upcoming "spectacular breakup" with Draco.

Their plan had worked surprisingly well. The press had mostly died down about their relationship. They had been seen together often enough that even the gossip columns were getting bored with them and the vitriolic editorials in the Daily Prophet were old news, bumped down from top billing by the far more interesting news regarding a love triangle between Kirley Duke, lead guitarist for the Weird Sisters, Emily Taylor, the married head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and Lorcan d'Eath, the famous vampire singer.

Harry was not even sure why he and Draco needed a public breakup. Surely they could just drift away quietly and no one would even notice? Harry had tried to bring it up to Draco several times, but the prat had always changed the subject and insisted that Harry shut up and follow the script. Harry had even tried to mention the failed kiss, but Draco's grey eyes had flashed such fire that Harry had reconciled himself to the fact that Draco regretted the attempt immensely and wished never to discuss his drunken near-mistake.

Harry sighed and then showered and dressed. When he padded back downstairs, he saw an owl waiting for him. His breath caught until he realized it wasn't Draco's owl, but a standard post owl. The message was from Hermione, asking him to Floo over when he woke up. A moment later, her voice called from the fireplace.

"Harry! Are you awake? I want to talk to you!"

He frowned, not certain he was in the mood for a nagging this morning. He was feeling a bit miffed with her for colluding with Pansy to set him up with Draco to begin with, now that it was coming to an end in a most unsatisfying way. He knew she hadn't meant to leave him with heartache, but that didn't change the fact that Harry felt miserable.

It was irrational to blame her, however, and he didn't want to upset her by acting like a prat, so he stayed out of the kitchen and ignored her call, choosing to Apparate out and visit a Muggle bakery that made a divine treacle tart. Harry wanted some comfort food. After the treacle tart, several cups of tea, and some time reading through the Times, he realized it was almost time to go and prepare for his breakup with Draco. He realized he would rather stab a fork through the back of his hand, straight through the faded words that read I will not tell lies.

When he left the coffee shop and headed for a place to Apparate from, an owl swooped down and landed on his shoulder. The message read:


Harry marvelled at Hermione's ability to shout in note form. Another owl-this one Draco's-landed on his other shoulder and nipped his ear.

"Stop that!" he growled and removed the message. He waved Hermione's post owl away and opened Draco's note.

Unexpected work shift change. Meet at 1pm, not 3pm. Do not be late.

Harry hurried to the Apparition point, cursing. It was already 12:35. He held tightly to Draco's owl and Apparated home. The bird squawked and left his shoulder in a flurry of wings to perch on his bedpost.

"Oh, shush," Harry said, "I know that didn't hurt you. And now you don't have to fly as far." He scribbled I'll be there on a fresh piece of parchment and attached it to the irritated owl, earning two nips on his fingers before the beast flew out the window.

He sent a Patronus to Hermione that said, "I'm at home, but on my way out. What's so urgent?" He tore his clothing off at record speed and put on the trousers, shirt, and robes that Draco had suggested he wear, wishing he'd had time for a shower.

Hermione's Patronus burst in and the otter asked, "Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you all day! And where are you going?"

Harry scrubbed his teeth and splashed some water on his hair before trying to comb it into something that wouldn't make Draco look at him like he was pathetic. He gave up and mussed it with his fingers. He was hopeless.

Harry cast another Patronus. "I'll be home around 1:30." He hoped that would appease Hermione. She hadn't mentioned what she wanted, so it couldn't be an emergency. Harry's meeting with Draco would definitely be over by then; Harry wanted it done with as soon as possible so that he could start wallowing in depression, possibly with a bottle of something strong and alcoholic.

Deciding his wardrobe was as good as it would get, Harry Apparated to Diagon Alley. He made his way to Quality Quidditch Supplies and stood gazing in the window at the latest racing broom. A nostalgic longing for Quidditch made him sigh heavily.

"Are you sorry you didn't go into professional Quidditch?" a familiar voice asked just before Draco's scent wafted over Harry's senses.

"Sometimes," Harry admitted and turned to look at him. Draco looked surprisingly dishevelled. His hair was out of place over one ear, sticking out in a way that would likely mortify him if he knew. He had dark circles under his eyes and there was a smudge of something purple at the corner of his jaw, just below his ear. "Rough morning?"

Malfoy nodded. "I was called in early and told them unequivocally that I was taking a break at one."

Harry stepped forward and fixed his hair, earning a surprised intake of breath from Draco. "You're kind of a mess," Harry said and added, "I like it."

Draco's cheeks went pink. "I did not have time to primp." He coughed and stepped away. "And I have to get back, despite my bravado. It's madness today."

"Yeah. Let's get this done with, I suppose," Harry said, not bothering to keep the regret from his voice.

They walked along the line of shops and Draco nodded towards Gringotts. Several people were milling in front of the bank, the best audience for their public shouting match.

"Well, then," Draco said as he stopped. "It's been nice knowing you, Potter." He raised his voice, launching into the breakup act. "Look, I know you were-!"

Harry kissed him. Not only did he kiss him, but he wrapped his fists in Draco's robes and hauled him forwards into a bruising kiss that knocked one of Draco's teeth into Harry's upper lip, but he didn't care. Draco's yelp of surprise was muffled by Harry's tongue and he did not relent for a moment. He kissed for all he was worth, pouring weeks of frustration and desire into every stroke of his tongue and every determined push-pull of his lips. Thankfully, Draco didn't shove him away. He didn't move at all, except to return Harry's kisses with what (hopefully) seemed to be enthusiasm. Eventually, Harry had to stop for air.

"What… what are you doing?" Draco asked, sounding breathless and dazed. His eyes were half-lidded and his lips were red. It was an unbelievable turn-on and Harry wanted nothing more than to continue kissing him. He desperately wanted to see Draco undone.

"I don't want to break up," Harry replied. "And I don't want to pretend anymore, not that I've been pretending for a while now. I want this for real. I want us. I want you."

Draco only blinked at him for long moments, until Harry started to think perhaps he'd been wrong and Draco didn't want him at all. At least until Draco said, "This is… a bit of a surprise."

Harry made a huffing sound. "Is it? And Hermione calls me oblivious."

"But you didn't want me. Before."

"Yes, I did. I really did. But you were drunk and I couldn't take advantage, plus I thought you were only interested in a one-off… You aren't, are you? Because I want-"

"A relationship, yes, we've covered that. I should have known you were just being a Gryffindor. Bloody hell, are you saying we could have been fucking this entire time?"

Harry's lust went into overdrive, hearing those words spill from Draco's lips. Without thinking twice about it, he Apparated them to the study at Grimmauld Place.

Draco made another startled sound and his fingers dug into Harry's waist, just above his hips. It felt incredibly erotic to Harry's heightened senses and he walked Draco backwards with a sound that was almost a growl.

"Harry," Draco said and it sounded more like permission than protest, so Harry pushed again, knowing Draco's thighs were pressed up against the sofa arm. Harry fell with him as he toppled, and then they were horizontal, lying atop the couch that had been the scene of many fantasies, daydreams in which Harry had pounced on Draco rather than allowing him to escape.

Draco was, without question, the best cushion Harry had ever found, despite a few jutting angles and an oh-so-delightful hardness pressing into Harry's thigh. Harry pushed, just there, and echoed the groan that rumbled past Draco's lips.

"God. Draco." Harry rocked against him, thinking he might go blind with want. Draco was beneath him, trapped, essentially, and Harry wanted to touch every part within reach.

"Harry, we can't…" Draco's voice was a breathless pant. "I need to get back to work."

"But you don't want to," Harry replied and placed biting kisses on Draco's jaw. He tasted wonderful, of salt and sweat and something almost mint-flavoured that was probably skin-moisturising potion.

Draco's hands were on him, as well, not pushing him away, but rather grasping, squeezing each handhold before moving on to the next one. "No, I don't want to," Draco replied. "But we're hellishly busy and I have a responsibility-"

Harry silenced him with a kiss, marvelling that the word "responsibility" could provoke an even greater surge of lust, because the thought of Healer Malfoy giving him an examination was ridiculously hot. Harry hadn't even known he could be kinky.

"We'll be quick," Harry promised. "Just a taste. One of those fancy appetizer thingies they brought to us before the meal last week."


"Yes, that. This. An amuse-bouche for now, and later when you are done working, we will have the main course. And starters. And sides. And dessert. And bloody hell, it's hot as fuck when you speak French. Not sure if I mentioned that." While Harry spoke, his hands pulled at Draco's clothing, dragging shirt from trousers and trousers from pants, until his fingers found the hard length of flesh he sought and-oh, it was lovely. And the sounds Draco made when it was discovered were lovelier still.

"Oh. Oh, Salazar, Harry, fuck." His hands tore at Harry's trousers, which had far too many buttons, but Harry could not spare a moment to help him. He was too busy watching the rise and fall of his hand over Draco's cock. "I felt the same about… Merlin… about your bloody Parseltongue."

Harry's head snapped up and his eyes locked on Draco's. "Parseltongue? Parseltongue turns you on? Like this?" He hissed a few drawn-out sounds, things vaguely remembered from the time when he could speak to snakes. He pretended they were sexy words, hissed worship of Draco's amazing body. Perhaps they were.

Draco arched beneath him and replied, "Vous êtes difficile à comprendre et complètement irrationnel, mais vous êtes si séduisante que je me trouve impuissant attirés vers vous." As he spoke, Draco's knuckles grazed Harry's cock through his jeans and his hips jerked forward involuntarily.

Harry made an unintelligible croaking sound and then said, "Bloody hell, I think I could come just from you talking to me."

"Entertaining idea, but I think this might be better for right now," Draco said and palmed Harry's cock. He pressed hard once, and then finally got Harry's trousers open with his other hand. In the next moment, Draco's bare hand was on him, sending Harry's pulse into another realm.

"Oh yes, you're absolutely right, so much better," Harry agreed in a babbled rush and groaned as his eyes rolled up into his head. It was nothing short of incredible. He hadn't known that half-clothed, sweaty, rushed, mutual wanking could be so satisfying.

It did not take long. After a couple of bumped knuckles, they found a mutual rhythm and pumped one another's cocks in frantic jerks. Draco's free hand dragged his shirt upwards to expose a large expanse of his pale abdomen-crossed with a faint white line that Harry vowed to apologize for later, hopefully with lips and hands-and Harry admired the flat expanse of skin even as threads of pale liquid shot from Draco's pulsing cock to decorate it.

Harry's toes curled, digging into the shoes he still wore, and a rushing sensation squeezed through his balls and then burst through his entire body, leaving him shaken. Through fluttering lids, he watched as his own release splattered over Draco's. It pooled in Draco's navel and slowly trickled down his side to drip on the sofa cushion. Harry knew he should do something about that, but he was feeling far too liquefied and sated to move. His free hand clutched the back of the sofa to hold him upright.

"I am a mess," Draco said. "And I am also late."

"You're not late," Harry scoffed. "It barely took us ten minutes." Harry's legs, however, were constricted to the point of pins and needles by the bunched fabric around his knees, and one of his feet was developing a cramp due to the angle it was shoved between the sofa cushions. Harry pushed away from Draco and got to his feet without taking his eyes from Draco's cock, still attractive even when softening. Despite the brilliant orgasm, Harry wanted to continue; he wanted to peel the rest of Draco's clothing away and lock his lips around that lovely cock to tease it back to rigidity.

"My face is up here, Potter," Draco said with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Harry flushed and met his eyes. "Sorry, you're just so…" Harry hoisted his trousers up awkwardly and fumbled for his wand. Draco flung out a hand.

"Wait! How good are you at Cleaning Charms? I would like to keep my skin intact!"

"Relax," Harry said and cast. If there was one thing he'd got plenty of practice with, it was that particular charm. Harry and his own right hand were very well acquainted. A pale glow wafted over Draco's skin and lifted away all traces of their activity before vanishing.

Draco lifted a brow as he swung his legs to the floor. "Impressive, I must admit." He tugged his shirt down and reached to fasten his trousers, but Harry stepped into his space and pulled him close, curling his fingers into the open fly of Draco's trousers. Their spent cocks pressed together as Harry kissed him.

A whooshing sound filled Harry's ears and for a moment he thought it had been caused by the kiss, but then he heard Hermione's voice.

"Harry, I- Oh, my."

The whoosh repeated and Pansy Parkinson snapped, "Bloody hell, Granger, it's customary to move away from the damned fireplace after- Well, hello, boys."

Harry blinked at them whilst Draco groaned and pulled more firmly at his trousers. Harry coughed and joined him in turning away from the girls to adjust his own clothing. He sneaked a glance at Draco, whose cheeks were deliciously pink.

"I was coming to- Well. I mean." Hermione's voice sounded strained and Harry nearly chuckled at her lack of verbosity. It was rare he ever saw her with a lack of coherence.

"We were going to convince you two idiots not to break up, but apparently you've worked that out on your own," Pansy said. "Amazing, considering the epic levels of hopeless lovelorn pining I've witnessed over the past couple of weeks."

"Oh shut up, Pansy," Draco said. "I will have words with you later, never fear. For now, I am late." He glanced at Harry, who gave him a once-over and decided Draco looked none the worse for their mutual experience. The only remaining sign of their activity was a lovely post-coital flush that might be mistaken for embarrassment. Harry nodded his approval and smiled.

Draco lifted his wand and then paused. He leaned towards Harry and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, much to Harry's surprise. "I will hold you to that main course later tonight," he murmured.

"I'll be here," Harry replied breathlessly.

Draco Disapparated, leaving Harry to face two smug-looking females.

"Not breaking up, then?" Hermione asked. Her cheeks were still flaming, but her smile was enormous.

"Not breaking up," Harry replied and grinned.

Pansy sighed heavily and then pouted. "But I had such a good plan ready."

"Diabolical, you mean," Hermione corrected.

"All of the good plans are diabolical."

Hermione shook her head and Harry wondered if they were about to get into another pointless argument. They seemed to enjoy sniping at one another. "Is there something else you wanted? Because I would quite like a shower." And he needed to prepare for Draco's later arrival. Clean sheets would be a good thing. Possibly brand new ones. Expensive ones.

Hermione looked at him and shook her head. "No, that was all. I just planned to tell you that Draco fancied you and you should stop being foolish and tell him you were in love with him."

"And I came to stop her so that my diabolical plan could be put into motion," Pansy said and then tapped a finger against her lips. "I suppose I should call Theo and tell him not to go through with it. Pity."

"I don't even want to know," Hermione said. "But yes, call him now!"

"Gryffindors are no fun at all," Pansy complained, but she turned and followed Hermione as she lifted a handful of Floo powder.

"Goodbye, Harry. And good luck," Hermione said and then disappeared into the flames.

"Yes, good luck." Pansy paused and gave Harry a pointed look. "Oh, and one more thing. If you ever hurt him I will feed your balls to Hogwarts' thestrals. Just so you know."

Harry coughed and nodded. "I… don't plan to."

She gave him one of her reptilian smiles. "Good." She stepped into the fire and was gone.

Slytherins, Harry reflected, could be bloody scary.


Harry was a nervous wreck by 9 p.m. He had ordered dinner out, not trusting himself to cook, but it had long since gone cold. Harry had picked at a few bites when his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since morning, and that treacle tart was not meant to sustain life.

He paced, half-convinced that Draco was at home, sitting with his feet up and laughing at what an idiot Harry had become, insinuating that they might actually try for a relationship. Surely he could not still be at St Mungo's at this hour? Harry had worried one thumbnail to the quick with gnawing, and still he debated Flooing to the hospital to demand Draco's whereabouts.

Instead, he turned to alphabetizing the books in the study, just to keep his hands busy. A rather substantial library had been in the house when he'd moved in, remnants of the Black legacy. Harry frowned at the leather-bound cover of "The Perfecte Primrose - Secrets of a Moste Excellente Species" and wondered why so many of the tomes started with "The." And why would anyone write an entire volume about primroses?

The Floo sounded from the other room and Harry dropped the book as his pulse shot into Seeker speed. Surely, it wouldn't be-?

"Harry?" Draco's voice sent him running, not caring how it might look.

He flung himself to his knees before the fireplace. "Draco?"

"Merlin, I'm sorry I'm late." His voice sounded ragged and beyond tired. "It has been a difficult... Well. Would you mind terribly if I cancelled tonight and went home?"

"Just come through," Harry replied, knowing he sounded desperate, but he was terrified that giving Draco time to think would lead to the conclusion that Harry was not worth the effort. "If only for a minute."

Draco closed his eyes and sighed, but after a moment he nodded and disappeared. Harry got to his feet and stepped back, only to catch Draco as he stepped from the fire.

"Easy there!" Harry said gently as he eased Draco upright. "I've got you."

"Sorry, I-" Draco stood, but did not draw away. He looked bone-weary. "I'm fine."

"You might be fine, but you're also exhausted. And how long since you ate something?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't remember, but I'm not hungry, just tired. I really need to sleep."

"All right, but you need to eat something or you'll wake up in the middle of the night with your stomach growling. Come on, I promise you won't have to move anything more strenuous than one hand, and it won't take long."

Surprisingly, Draco allowed Harry to tug him into the living room. "That's what he said, Potter." He emitted a soft chuckle.

Harry snorted and let Draco drop onto the sofa. He groaned and stretched out his long legs, arms falling to his sides and head lolling on the cushion. "You wait right here. I've got spring rolls under a Stasis Charm."

Harry hurried back to the kitchen and grabbed the dish, cancelling the Stasis and reheating the rolls with a quick flick of his wand.

Draco's eyes were closed when Harry returned and he thought he might be too late, but one grey eye cracked open to look at Harry when he sat down. "I should go home before I can't move."

"Eat first," Harry said sternly and dipped a spring roll into the sauce before lifting it to Draco's mouth. "Open up." Draco sighed, but obediently opened his mouth and allowed Harry to feed him. His eyes closed again and he made a sound that made Harry's mouth go dry.

"That's really good," he mumbled as he chewed.

"Probably because you're starving," Harry replied and fed him another bite. His fingers grazed Draco's lips and his heart stuttered. He was glad Draco's eyes were closed, allowing Harry a moment to look at him without reservation. Exhaustion was etched in every line of his body. His hair was an even bigger mess than it had been earlier, looking as though Draco had combed it out of his eyes several times too many. It was damp; likely he had washed his face before leaving the hospital-the smudge from earlier was gone. His face was beautiful and Harry admired it unabashedly.

Draco's brows were almost as pale as his hair, fading to near-invisibility as they curved round the edge of his brow. His lashes were darker, easily seen with Draco's eyes closed. They were long and thick, hiding eyes that Harry knew were the colour of a stormy sky, and just as changeable. His nose was straight and slender and his lips… Draco's tongue flicked out to catch a bit of sauce on his upper lip and Harry swallowed hard. Draco's jaw worked as he chewed and Harry remembered the taste and feel of it. He wanted to nuzzle his cheek there and trail his lips over Draco's exposed throat. He wanted… He wanted so much more than he ever would have expected from Draco and the knowledge ached within him, transcending mere lust.

Tell him you're in love with him, Hermione had said. Only now did Harry allow the truth of it to take root.

With a start, he realized Draco's eyes were open and watching him. Harry focussed on the plate and picked up another spring roll to cover the sudden flush of his cheeks.

"I am useless to you tonight," Draco said.

"I don't mind," Harry replied and dipped the roll into the sauce. "I'm just glad you're here." He lifted the food to Draco's lips and watched as he accepted it and chewed slowly. It was curiously intimate, feeding someone.

"Now that I have stopped moving, I am not certain I can start again," Draco said once he had swallowed.

"Then don't," Harry said. "I've fallen asleep on this sofa many times. It's very comfortable. I'll get you a blanket or two."

Draco sighed and opened his mouth for the last bit of spring roll. "I could sleep on a stone floor at this point, so I believe I will take you up on that. Thank you."

Harry conjured a napkin and dabbed at Draco's lips, resisting the urge to lick them clean, and then knelt to remove Draco's shoes and socks. Draco groaned. "You don't have to do that."

"You can't even feed yourself," Harry replied with a chuckle. "Are you comfortable enough in your clothes or do you want me to take those off, as well?" He asked the latter with an exaggerated leer and Draco huffed.

"I told you I was useless, Potter. Undressing me will only depress me with my lack of ability to uphold my promise."

"I'll accept a rain check," Harry said and wrapped a hand around Draco's ankle. He squeezed and then slipped his hand up into Draco's trouser leg to caress his calf. Draco sighed, and it was a pleased but tired sound. Harry smiled and moved back, drawing his hand back down to Draco's ankle and then lifting his feet up onto the couch. He arranged the pillows beneath Draco's head and helped him shift into a more comfortable position.

"Be right back," he said. By the time he returned with a thick blanket, Draco's breathing was deep and even; he was sound asleep. Harry smiled and arranged the fabric over him, tucking it in gently and then smoothing the fine hair over Draco's brow. He pressed an impulsive kiss to his temple. "Goodnight, Draco."

Harry put out the lights and went to bed, content that although the evening had not gone as planned, it had still been rather satisfying.


Harry was having the most delicious dream. Lips teased just behind his ear and a solid, warm body was pressed against his back, spooning around him like a protective cocoon. Soft fingers drew circles upon his chest and hot breath tickled his skin in between the kisses. Something wonderfully hard jutted against his buttocks, drawing an answering response from Harry's loins as his cock awoke and thickened. He moaned and rocked his hips, wanting that hardness.

"Mmmm," someone murmured. "I thought you'd never wake up."

Harry sighed around a smile. "Draco," he said drowsily and sank more deeply into dream-induced contentment. He had no intention of waking from such a lovely reverie.

Draco's lips moved down Harry's neck to the bend where it met his shoulder. At the same time, his hand travelled from Harry's chest downwards, crossing ribs and navel, and hopefully seeking the place where Harry most desperately wanted to feel any part of Draco.

"Got it in one, luckily for you," Draco said. His fingers teased the hair of Harry's happy trail, so close, but still too far from Harry stiff cock. "Calling me by someone else's name would be a very bad move at this juncture."

Harry's eyes flew open as the recollection that the real Draco Malfoy was sleeping on his couch downstairs. He would have bounced from the bed if the arm around him hadn't held him in place. Harry's intake of breath was probably comical.

"Draco?" he asked.

"I thought we'd established that. Going somewhere?"

Harry relaxed. "Um, no, I thought I was dreaming." He reached out a hand to pinch Draco's arm.


Harry laughed. "Just making sure you're real."

"You're supposed to pinch yourself, idiot."

"Well, I already know I'm real. I'm just… You're here." Harry moved a hand to indicate his bed, and then blushed when the implication sank in.

"I was under the impression you wanted me here." To Harry's horror, Draco's face began to close up, that wonderful, carefree, teasing expression fading into familiar, more guarded lines.

Harry's hand clamped onto Draco's arm. "Don't you dare move! I'll use magical bindings to keep you here, if I must."

A smile curved Draco's lips and he visibly relaxed. "Kinky. That's unexpected."

"Is it?" Harry asked on a breath full of relief. "Well, then, you'll have to stick around and see what else I can surprise you with."

"I look forward to it." Draco leaned in and Harry closed his eyes, preparing for a kiss. He yelped when Draco shoved him halfway across the bed. He stared at him in confusion. "Now, go shower so that we can get on with things. I bathed earlier whilst you were being a slug-a-bed."

"You're kicking me out of my own bed?" Harry asked, disgruntled, as Draco settled into his pillows, looking as though he might go back to sleep.

"The sooner you are nice and clean, the sooner you may have this," Draco replied and pulled back the top blanket to reveal that he wore nothing but a very interesting pair of black pants. Harry gaped at the pants for a moment, and then at all the creamy skin revealed.

"Be back in a Seeker's second," Harry said and flung himself towards the bathroom. A faster shower might never have been had in Britain-although he was careful to pay particular attention to certain areas. Once finished, Harry slung a towel around his hips and hurried back to the bedroom. To his relief, Draco was still awake, to all appearances leafing through a reference book Harry had been slowly plodding through for several weeks. Draco tossed it aside and smiled. In response, Harry's cock, which had been at half-staff during his shower, sprang to full attention. The towel tented and Harry flushed.

Draco held out a hand and Harry's embarrassment faded as he walked forwards and let the towel drop. The slow, almost physical caress of Draco's stare brought even more heat to the surface of Harry's skin, but there was no mortification in it this time.

"Come here," Draco said roughly and pushed the sheets aside with a swift movement.

Harry joined him, climbing into the bed and falling on Draco like a starved beast. The emotions he'd held in check for weeks threatened to spill over. He kissed Draco to keep himself from speaking. Draco's arms wrapped round him and held him tightly; his fingers stroked gentle circles into Harry's skin.

Harry kissed for all he was worth, licking into the warmth of Draco's mouth and seeking out places that made the breath hitch in his chest, pressed tightly enough to Harry's that he could feel every movement. So enraptured was he that it took him completely by surprise when Draco rolled him over and pinned him to the bed, trapping Harry's arms over his head with one hand.

"Easy, there," Draco said with a chuckle. "We do, in fact, have several hours and I, for one, plan to use them wisely. And slowly. Keep your hands right there and don't move them until I tell you to, all right?"

Harry swallowed, more at the intense look in Draco's eyes than from his words, and he nodded, unable to speak through his suddenly-dry throat. Amazingly, his cock hardened even more. He hadn't known that being dominated would be a turn-on, but it most assuredly was.

Draco released his hands and Harry obediently kept them there. He felt very exposed as Draco moved away from him to sweep a look over the length of Harry's body, as if he had been laid out like a buffet for Draco's pleasure.

"Salazar," Draco said as he lifted a hand and trailed his fingers over Harry's skin, drawing a gooseflesh-inducing trail from Harry's collarbone down, down, down to his navel, "do you know how long I've wanted…?"

"It can't…" Harry gasped and quivered beneath the touch and fluid began to leak from his rock-hard cock, "It can't be as long as I have."

"Oh really?" Draco asked. His fingers kept moving, drawing close to Harry's cock without even brushing it, and pausing to comb through the tendrils of Harry's pubic hair, teasing the soft , sensitive area of Harry's groin.

"Yes. God, yes," Harry said and arched his back, desperate for a more solid touch.

"Spread your legs," Draco murmured. Harry did so, obeying with an alacrity that might have alarmed him if he hadn't been so eager for anything that Draco planned to do to him.

"Good," Draco said approvingly and then skated his fingers gently over Harry's balls. A guttural cry tore from Harry's throat and his breath caught in his chest on the intake. The touch was still feather-light, drawing downwards to slide over Harry's perineum before moving back over his testicles again. Harry thought he might go mad from the torment and had to clamp his teeth together to keep from begging for more.

Draco moved closer and bent his head to capture one of Harry's nipples, teasing it with his tongue-and then his teeth-as his hand squeezed and stroked at Harry's balls. It was the most delicious torment Harry had ever experienced. Draco kept it up for a maddeningly long time, alternating between nipples until Harry was a writhing mass of need. His cock throbbed with every stroke and Harry struggled not to come.

"Do you like this, Harry?" Draco asked.

"Yes, yes, god yes," Harry babbled.

"Would you like more?"

"Yes," Harry hissed, wondering how Draco could sound so calm when Harry was almost completely undone.

"What would you like?"

Harry flushed, but he was not above begging at this point and Draco had to know it. "Touch me. Touch my cock, please."

"Like this?" Draco asked and his fingers brushed the length of Harry's cock.

"More," Harry choked out desperately. "More, more, more."

Draco's fingers wrapped around it and Harry nearly sobbed at the sensation. Draco stroked once, twice… and stopped.

"Perhaps I should taste it?" Draco asked.

Harry could only whimper and nod. "Anything. Anything," he gasped.

"Don't come," Draco warned and then hot, wet, brilliant heat enveloped Harry's cock. His world narrowed to a black spot and he bit his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. His fingers clawed at the headboard as he fought to keep from coming. His breathing was a ragged sound, harsh and loud in the quiet room.

Draco's tongue danced over his cock, licking and teasing until Harry was reduced to begging sobs.

Draco's evil mouth released him. "Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked in the same calm tone.

"Yes," Harry replied, knowing that if Draco had offered to Crucio him the response would have been the same. Thank Merlin Voldemort had not known about Draco's powers of persuasion during the war or all might have been lost.

Draco moved between Harry's spread legs and murmured a spell. Something warm and slick touched Harry's sensitised skin and Draco's finger circled his pucker for the first time, sending a new quiver of anticipation through Harry. It pressed inside, not stopping until it was buried.

Don't come, Harry reminded himself desperately, Don't come.

"You're so ready for me." Draco's voice sounded surprised.

"Funny how that happens when you wank three times a day, with several fingers pushed up there wishing they were yours," Harry replied.

Draco groaned and it was a delicious sound. "Several?" he asked and added a second finger.

"As many as I could fit," Harry said.

"Salazar." Draco's voice was a whisper and his fingers pulled out.

Harry whimpered, but only for a moment. Draco rose and manoeuvred his thighs beneath Harry's, lifting his leg and bending his knees. One hand gripped into Harry's hip and the other guided Draco's cock into place. Harry had not even seen Draco remove the black pants.

Harry's abdominals clenched as he lifted himself upwards, wanting to see-he felt slightly cheated at being denied a view of Draco's cock during the proceedings, but Draco said, "Hands."

Harry swallowed and reclined again, giving up to sensation rather than worrying about the visuals. It was enough that he could see Draco, face gorgeously intense, blond hair hanging over his forehead, lips red and glistening from his attention to Harry's cock. Harry kept his eyes open even as Draco pushed into him, slowly and completely.

"All right there, Harry?" Draco murmured. His fingers-both hands were on Harry's hips now-stroked lightly, as if soothing any hurts he might have inadvertently caused. Healer Malfoy, Harry thought, and wondered how many of Draco's patients had fallen utterly in love with him. Many, most likely. And yet here he was, with Harry.

"Brilliant," Harry said and smiled.

Draco's answering smile was radiant, but it almost immediately disappeared when Draco began to move. Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he surrendered to sensation, rocking into each thrust and trying to keep his hands from reaching up and touching Draco's smooth skin. He wondered what it would be like to try it with his hands bound. The resulting rush of heat made him even more breathless and he opened his eyes again to admire Draco.

"You feel so…" Draco seemed unable to finish the thought and leaned down to kiss Harry, moving more slowly as Harry lost himself in the kiss. He realized that perhaps Hermione had been correct in her assessment.

"Sweaty?" Harry supplied against Draco's lips and was rewarded with a warm chuckle.

"That, too. Am I working you too hard?"

"Not hard enough, I think," Harry replied and pushed his hips upwards, earning a gasp from Draco.

"Oh, you've asked for it now, Potter," Draco warned and his grip on Harry's hips tightened deliciously. He drove into Harry then, moving at a frantic pace and sending Harry's senses spiralling as his cock banged against his abdomen, each slap bringing him closer to the edge. His fists clenched, desperate to reach down and bring himself off.

Harry's half-lidded eyes snapped open when the silver bracelet on Draco's wrist glowed.

"Oh, god, not now," Harry said desperately. He was close, so very close it would only take-

Draco wrapped a hand around his cock and then Harry was coming explosively, bucking on the bed from the force of it and shouting hoarsely. Draco kept moving, prolonging Harry's orgasm until he could only lie still and watch in a sated haze as Draco rode to his own peak. Draco was quiet when he came, huffing breathlessly and arching his back. He was gorgeous.

Draco fell over Harry's chest, not seeming to mind the mess, and Harry reached down and carded his fingers through Draco's damp hair.

"Do you have to leave?" Harry asked.

"Hmmm?" Draco's response was sleepy and gave Harry a silly rush of sentimental emotion.

"Your bracelet. It glowed."

"Oh, that. It's not an emergency. I asked Helen to give me a status report on one of my patients. One pulse means all is well." Draco's voice rumbled against Harry's chest.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't ready for Draco to leave. "Good." He closed his eyes and nearly drifted off to sleep. He felt sticky and knew he should rise and shower, but he was far too comfortable to move. A stray thought caused him to open his eyes.


A sleepy rumble acknowledged his query.

"I have a confession to make."

"You're not gay?"

A startled laugh escaped Harry. "No. That's definitely not it. Thank you for proving my preference for cock, by the way."

"It was my pleasure."

"I just wanted you to know that I never cared about the publicity. I just… wanted to see you again after our first meeting in the pub."

Draco's head rose and he met Harry's eyes with a smirk. "Why, you crafty crup."

"I won't deny it was easier, coming out, with someone to weather it with me. So thanks for that, too."

"I will forgive your deception, since you were apparently smitten with me."

"Yeah, I was. Am." Harry grinned.

"Bloody sap," Draco said and kissed him.

He had settled back against Harry and appeared to be dozing once more when another thought occurred to Harry. "Draco?"

A hefty sigh met his words.

"Remember when you first agreed to go out with me and you told me there would be a price to pay? What was it? Your price, I mean?"

Draco was silent for a moment and then his arm tightened around Harry's waist.

"This," he admitted finally. "This, Harry."

I'm not the only sap, Harry thought to himself, but he dared not utter the words around his enormous smile. Instead, he stroked Draco's hair, pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, and let them both drift back to sleep.