Harry—I have a great many follow-up questions for you; I'm sure you're aware. Which we can sort out soonest. However, there's a few that are rather more crucial at this very moment:

· It's Friday evening, did you know? Moreover, it's Friday evening at six, which translates to 'the weekend', and our particular ARP is successfully concluded. Hullo, partner.

· Dinner to celebrate? Of course, dinner. Mine, then… or yours? (Don't fret, I know a decent tooth-cleaning spell, no matter which we settle on.)

· What will you consent to eat in the morning if not a regular breakfast? Only because I intend to wear you down to the nub, Harry. Use you and abuse you in the kindest of ways possible, ride you very hard indeed and put you away wet all over, and it's my learned opinion you'll be sorely in need of something of substance to place in that very nice midsection of yours, after. (Yes, I do have chocolate frogs, Harry. A whole packet of them. They're Shrunk and to be found in my right-front robes pocket, and no, they don't count as a meal—only a snack. You'll need more than just that, you wily little wanker.)

Note, please, I'm not asking if you'll be with me the whole of the weekend—or after. That's a given and you may feel free to presume the reverse will be equally true: I'll be with you, no question. And note as well I handily prevented you from hexing Pansy with boils just now, in the ARP Dept. Final Briefing, thus saving you from terrible repercussions. There are certain items you'll just have to trust me on, Potter, and that is certainly one of them: never (never) fuck with a female of the Slytherin persuasion. Just. Don't. Go. There.

(For what it's worth, I don't think I'd mess with our mutual friend Lovegood, either.)

So. Expecting you, Harry. Very soon now, in our (brand-spanking-new) office, with its brand-new expandable settee, suitable for all manner of relaxing, trust-building exercises…~v~


Draco—Look behind you. Love, Harry.

PS. Yes, you're right, as always. It is comfy. And vastly expandable. Also, you do tend to go on and on, don't you? Once you've begun, that is. Ernie was right about that. Ron did say. I suppose I can put up with it, being

Fond of you, as I am, though

Merlin help me,

As I'm probably in for it,


"So, Potter," Draco grinned merrily as he offed his scarlet over-robes and fiddled purposefully with his trousers flies and silver belt buckle, "since we're still at the exchanging confidences stage of the game, apparently, the whole 'getting to know you' bit, and since you claim I'm the one who always jabbers on and fixates, you should tell me, yeah? What do you recall best from our many lessons? What did you like? And did you gain anything at all useful from all that load of ARP shenanigans? Or, did you think it was just all bollocks, instead?"

"Oh, erm? What, me? You're asking me?"

Draco advanced upon the expansive new sofa at a slow saunter; Harry sent him an admiring look, green eyes glancing greedily. He'd discarded his specs when he'd thrown off his own clothes and Draco was a little blurry yet, but the picture was fast developing. He licked his lips. There were far worse things to feast his eyes on than a smiling Malfoy.

"Yes, you. Of course, you. Surely you've drawn a few conclusions; you've never been a dull fellow, Harry. What did you, for instance, think of the—"

"Hmmm, useful, Draco? But why 'useful'?" Harry came to attention with a start, struggling up on his elbows and wetting his lips in anticipation. Draco had made quite a bit of progress whilst quizzing him. "Useful, is it? Beyond everything else?"

"Erm..." Draco flushed a pale pink and paused his work on his collar buttons. "Yes. Why not? I'd like to believe we've not wasted our time."

"Hmmm. I dunno, really...let me think on it."

"Oh, well. In that case..."

Draco slipped his wand out of his shirt sleeve and gave it a careless little wave before tossing it casually over his shoulder. It landed unerringly dead-centre on the huge new partner's desk the Ministry had outfitted them with, in reward for their successful completion of the ARP tour.

The entry door snicked locked and warded with a tiny click across the way; Harry knew full well there were very few others even still in the building at this late hour on a Friday evening and interruptions were highly unlikely. Still, it was nice to feel…doubly secure. As, from the look of matters, there was soon to be a cream-hued dick dangling half-erect very near his nose.

He could discern it was half-erect already just from the way it thrust against the irksome trousers Draco had yet to discard.

He could assume it would be similar in colouring to the rest of what he'd glimpsed of Draco Malfoy: pale and smooth and sleek, with hints of gold here and there.

And he had to admit, at least to himself, he was not exactly in the proper mood to muse over the events of his ARP experience; he was much more interested in the end result. Specifically, the Malfoy installed in his life. His partner.

The Malfoy, in his life, and currently in painfully slow process of gracefully removing all his garments.


Yes. Just a few minor details in the way...excess clothing, distracting chatter. Then they could get on with the getting off at last, and he'd finally learn what those trousers—


Harry tucked away a lovely passing thought (Draco's skin as compared to the colour of Devonshire cream, though his foreskin would like be all plummy) and regretfully, dutifully, concentrated on all he'd learnt, these past weeks, of Draco Malfoy. As Draco was insisting, the git.


Oh, but he rather liked the man, 'Draco Malfoy', despite that. Rather a lot.

"Well, let me see."

He stretched lazily as he lounged all over their new couch, affecting nonchalance, enjoying the feel of nubbly velvet on his shirtless back, the cushiony soft down pillowing his bared arse. His bum felt a bit odd, maybe from a strange sense of anticipation, but pleasantly enough, even so, and his mouth watered as he wriggled, gaze darting up to cling to his new partner's in a deliberately flirtatious manner.

"I like what I see, I think."

"Harry. Focus!"

Of all things, he wasn't exactly accustomed to feeling flirtacious, much less acting it. And he was nervous, yes he was—but in the best of all possible ways. Draco was a treat, walking.

Draco was a treat, in any conjugation. But Harry? Harry was a bit nerve-wracked, yet.

"Fine. Which ones, specifically?" It was ever so hard to summon a single damn about ARP, though. "Are you thinking of?"

"The Muggle fencing, I think," Draco smirked at him, striking a bit of a deliberate pose, both his trousers and his silk pants abruptly landing on the floor with a little clank and rustle.

Harry's eyes widened; yes, Draco was indeed both pale and plummy! And the carpet matched the drapes and even the bloody nostril hairs!

"Always my particular favourite." Draco toed off his boots casually, a move that drew Harry's eyes directly to the flex of thigh and calf, the indent of a hip bone. And he grinned while doing it, a brilliant flash that spoke of a penchant for teasing, never far hidden under that smooth surface. Wanker—as if Harry would even think to glance away with all that Malfoy on parade! "That'd be most appropriate, I'd say," he went on, cocking a brow archly. "To sum it up, our experience together. Don't you agree?"


"Well, I'm obviously considering the classic positions, Harry." Draco returned to the business of unbuttoning his shirt and cuffs. Partly undone, his shirttails drifted behind him when he halted again and bent double, dragging off each silk sock. "...In this case."

"Yeah?" Harry prompted, encouragingly, stifling a snort over the sight of Malfoy, hopping from foot to foot, like some crazed stork. "Go on."

"Thrust-and-parry, remember?" Socks off, Draco stood tall once more and pinned his paetner to the divan with a piercing stare. "Touché…engage…zones."

He even went so far as to leer, just little; not so much as to look ridiculous doing it, and not so subtly menacing Harry felt uneasy.

"Defensive stances….and there's a cartload of…other… applications I can think of right off the bat for that sort of rehearsed motion, don't you agree? Physical chess and all."

His voice lowered by degrees, descending into a intimately seductive murmur, as Draco finally arrived by the settee.

"Me, I prefer the lunges at close quarters. The sound of naked blade to blade, striking. You?"

"Oh! Corps-a-corps, you mean?" Harry, gathering his wits about him by main force, plastered on a winning smile for his partner, in process of kneeing his way onto the middle cushion of the divan and gently shoving Harry over to make room with a pale-skinned hip and a strong forearm. "When we cross the line, then."

he blinked into grey eyes, steady on his, and swallowed hard. Draco situated himself comfortably. Smiled down at Harry from his hovering position poised over him, and it was a sweet, sweet moment, that.

"Exactly—when we cross the line." He nodded. "Er, speaking of, make some room, Potter," he added with a mock-scowl, and flung Harry's arm up with a quick flick of his fingers. "You're hogging the middle all to yourself, grabby-hands prat. And, yes, of course I meant the 'close quarters'." The smirk was back, redoubled. "Where's the fun of it if we're not constantly in danger of bodily contact, Harry?"

"That's my favourite by far," Harry agreed softly, amiably shifting another inch. Or five; he wasn't particular. he ended squashed up against the back of the couch, but Draco solved that by reaching for him and drawing him close. "Bodily contact...," Harry sighed, relaxing into the cage of arms and elbows. "S'good shit. I did enjoy the thumb-wrestling, though—very much, really."

"Really, now?"

Harry blushed, dropping his gaze. "Was holding hands with you, no matter why."

"Oh, me as well," Draco smiled.

"Um." Harry looked up again, oddly reassured he wasn't making an utter fool of himself, cuddling with his partner at the workplace. "...Though I look forward to learning more about the real Muggle fencing, maybe trying it without that spell Ahmed taught me…if you might be willing to instruct me, sometime?"

"Of course I would." Draco looked very pleased—and pleasantly surprised, too, as he bent his head down. Harry received a glancing kiss from pursed lips, just a wee peck in passing, and another stellar Malfoy grin. "I'd love the chance, Harry. And see? Told you you'd enjoy that part of ARP."

"Yes…you did," Harry admitted willingly, reaching arms up to wrap them round Draco's neck. "But the best part by far, Draco? Of all we did?"

"Mmm?" Draco drew close again willingly enough, his lean length finally consenting to cascade in a slow fall all down upon the length of Harry's shorter frame, when he lay, warm and heavy. "Tell me more, Harry."

"Was you," Harry puffed, a bit breathless being squashed. But a bit happy, undeniably. "You're a bit fit in the gear, partner, silly wire chickenn coop cage on your head aside. And when you're all wet and mad as hell fire, bent on justice over the likes of me—well, it's—ah! Exciting. Super exciting."

Draco tossed his head, eyes going very glinty and steel-hued at the recollection. "Indeed. Any time, Harry. Any time. If it's called for. Which it was; bloody Lovegood."

"Yes, well, but," Harry chuckled, "that aside, I must admit, I rather happen to think you're far better out of all clothes in general, Draco, even my spare apron, which was terribly fetching on you, by the bye. Rather…delicious, I find, this prospect. You, in the buff."

"Delicious yourself, flatterer," Draco murmured, sliding his person over so he was pressing Harry even more firmly into the cushions, at shoulder and hip. "Not the only here who could be called that, you know?"

He settled his weight carefully as he relaxed, careful always to allow Harry breathing room.

"Sweet talker."

He licked a hot stripe across Harry's lips, his flickering tongue tasting of coffee and the Muggle micro-Altoids sweets he always kept in a pocket of his robes—curiously strong, sharply minty. Harry smiled his pleasure at the lingering tang of spearmint in the very small gap of humid air that lay between them.

"But keep talking to me, do," Draco continued, with another brilliant half-smile for Harry. "Flattery will get you everywhere, I promise. Naked flattery in particular. I've had plenty of wanks to that apron, I'll have you know. There's a lot of possibilities yet to be had, what with those thick flat strings. Sturdy stuff, the Muggle-made."

He kissed his way down Harry's chest, taking his time over it.

"Oh, s'not flattery, exactly," Harry replied, reaching a hand to tilt his partner's chin at an angle sufficiently high that he could lay a tiny teasing nip to the rather severe jaw line...and the nose. Draco scowled at the indignity, but his lip twitch wasn't very convincing. "You're just very—um."

Draco was all angles actually—and great swooping elegant lines: stark and monochrome, marble-white and glossy surfaces, a polished effigy…excepting presently the hectic pink flush spreading rapidly down his chest from his high-stacked cheekbones. And the cock—Harry could hardly ignore what he was rapidly coming to think of as 'the' Cock.

He couldn't see, no, but he definiitly knew it was there. Just there, against his inner thigh.

"Um?" Draco prompted, his gaze very hot. Harry flushed under the weight of it.

"You're…a pretty boy. Er…man. A fit—" Harry shrugged. "Well. I always thought so."

"No, you didn't," Draco replied promptly, with a tiny frown. But that cleared away nearly instantly, mist dissapating in sunlight. "But I'm very glad you do now, Harry."

"Um," Harry groaned, distracted, not quite listening. Draco's dick had twitched, prompting a tremor in his own. It was a truly lovely cock. Generously built.


Harry swallowed hard; his mouth was watering… again.

"Yes…oh, hungry," he moaned, under his breath, and his attentive partner cried out softly—"Harry!"—and instantly hauled him closer, half yanking him up off the cushions and into the cradle of his arms.

"Draco?" Harry gulped, blinking. "I find I'm...I hope you don't mind it, but I'm—very—er?"

He shifted, barely able to bear up under the pressure of the situation, and set off a whole other symphony of sensation. Which had him groaning...again.

"Gods, Harry," Draco groaned right along with him, his eyes closing for an instant, grinding down his pelvis in a meaningful way. "Oh…Harry." Harry had known his lover was already half-hard just from looking; by the feel of it he'd advanced to fully engorged in the blink of an eye, the inhale of a tortured gasp. "I'm thrilled—I'm bloody ecstatic you think so, really I am. I want you, you know? So badly; it's awful. Been dying with want for you, all this time."

"Me, too," Harry nodded frantically. "All this time."

"Hmph! Have you now?" Draco beetled his fair brows instantly, laying tiny disgruntled kisses up Harry's exposed throat and onto his chin. "Liar, liar, pantaloons on fire." He licked the corners of Harry's mouth, effectively stopping Harry's protest before it started. "Huh," he snorted softly. "Wouldn't have known it by me, not for an instant. Thought you only just barely tolerated me, at first. You were so…short, when we happened to meet. All business, always."

"No, no." Harry frowned fretfully, struggling to find the proper words to say how he'd felt. As he had felt, he'd just not ever sorted it out that he'd been feeling. "No, I was only…I didn't know much about you, Draco. Less than I thought I did. I think Pansy and Luna have done me a huge favour, really. I wouldn't have sorted it out without the programme, you know? I don't tend to think much about…things…like that. People, when they aren't, er, cases."

"No?" Draco's mouth curved mischievously. "Colour me surprised, Harry. I'd've have wagered you would've been all over a chance to pick me apart. Always was curious why you left me pretty much alone, all these years. Not like we didn't have a…history."

"Mmm," Harry shifted into a shrug, enjoying the way their abdomens came together—and the pressure his motion brought to bear on their matched bits. he was growing accustomed, and it was exhilerating, yes, but also...also very comfortable. "Of course we have a history, but that wasn't it. No, never." And there was no question his dick was just as interested as his partner's, from the feel of it; he had to fight the urge to reach down and maybe rub them together; experiment. "No, not at all. I wasn't avoiding you so much, Draco, especially. It was more…more I didn't know how to approach you. You always look so—"

"Insular?" Draco suggested easily, lifting one narrow brow, the arch of dark blond nearly engaging his tumbled white-gilt fringe as he tilted his head enquiringly. "Segregated, perhaps?" He nodded, lips quirking. "Yes, well, par for the course, Harry. It's better not to encourage people to get too close. Leastways, that's what I was taught—though I do admit I've learnt very differently since I signed up with Aurors. Rather was forced, if you know what I mean? Not that I really minded it. Not an idiot, of course."

"Yes…" Harry sighed and released his casual grip on Draco's shoulder, slithering his palm down the length of the long ribcage till the hollow of one spare hip lay beneath his hand. "Kind of why I stuck with Ron for so long, actually. The not-knowing people very well. Didn't like them randomly muscling into my….my personal space, either? Not if I didn't know them already. And trust them."

"You're a very private person, Harry." Draco features took on a pensive cast; his eyes softening to a dark, molten pewter shade as his pupils bloomed wide. "As I am. I wanted…well, what ever I may've wanted didn't seem too likely, and I." He paused, dropping his gaze to stare narrow-eyed at Harry's kiss-pinkened neck. "Er…I."

"You what?"Harry asked, rubbing his hand slowly up the ridge of bone along Draco's spine. He gave a little pat of encouragement, when the man didn't immediately continue, right on his left arsecheek. "What did you want, Draco?"

"Simple." Draco shivered, his fingers fluttering nervously. Harry felt him tense, felt the knock of their assorted anklebones as his partner twined their legs together. "You, for one. Your attention—your notice. But, you, you were always." He heaved a sigh and Harry's lashes lifted immediately so he could meet Draco's earnest gaze curiously. "You had Weasley, so…yeah. I didn't bother."

"Wish you had," Harry grumped, eyes sparkling. "Should've, Draco. We could've been doing much this earlier, arse. Wouldn't have wasted all these years thinking I was kind of, um…" he blushed, turning his chin sharply away, "Um…sexless. Er, asexual, is it? Sort of. I mean, after Ginny, I did. A bit."


Draco chuckled and instantly pressed their groins together, a quick hand sliding in to grasp their two dicks into one palmful, where Harry's had only played with the possibility a moment before. He squeezed rhythmically and Harry grunted, helplessly.

"Hardly," he scoffed, very dubious indeed. "Gods, no—you're all—Harry!" He growled his frustration, nuzzling into Harry's neck and sighing gustily. "No, not at all sexless, Harry. Not by a long shot, not ever—I've seen you tuck in, remember? You eat like you're famished all the time, Harry—it's a bit gutting. But maybe you're more…more like me, yeah? Like me, in that what you wanted wasn't so readily available—or so it seemed. So you didn't bother with it, much."

"Ron says I'm a little clueless, actually," Harry grinned happily; the squeeze had become a gentle twist-and-roll of knucklebones over glans. It was...very nice. "Er…more a lot, actually. Which isn't a bad thing, either."

"No," Draco laughed suddenly, a burbling little chortle of delight. "Kept you well out of trouble and off the streets, didn't it? Till I could come along and dazzle you with all my many charms. Which I have, thanking you. Er...am."

He pointedly glanced at their positions relative to each other, a revealing circumstance indeed. And squeezed again, with unmistakable intent.

"You…" Harry breathed, licking his lips in anticipation, "are indeed very charming. Show me more of that, then?"


Draco thrust down at Harry deliberately, rolling his pelvis; withdrew and thrust again, their dicks jouncing and sliding together within his increasingly slippery grip. "This is me…being charming." It was passing damp between them; a fine sheen of perspiration had been rising on their separate skins all this while as they grew more used to the feel of one another—and more excited by every touch. "And I'll show you anything you want, Harry, any time you want. Just ask me."

"Then…" Harry went red as fire, clutching at Draco's shoulders as they reared up and over, intent on drawing him close again. "Then,' he mumbled against Draco's parted lips, having achieved his goal, "please… show me what lovers are like, Draco? 'Cause I've never had a real one and I—"

He gasped involuntarily as Draco lowered his head and set his open mouth to the sensitive hollow at the base of his straining throat, licking at it. Shivered as Draco blew lightly across the dampened skin there. "Oh, Harry."

"And I think I'd like it, rather. A bit."

"Not…anyone? Ever since the Weasley girl?" Draco drew away, handsome features crinkling into outright puzzlement. "At all? All this time, Harry?"

"No, not really," Harry replied simply. "No."

"Then…it's plain as the nose on my face." Draco laid the gentlest of kisses upon Harry's half-parted lips, simultaneously bearing down with all his weight so that Harry could feel every hot inch of him, all alive with desire. "They were fools, the lot of them, letting you get away, Harry, and I'm glad you're shot of them now. As you need me—"

"I do," Harry gasped, closing his eyes as Draco interrupted himself mid-sentence to kiss Harry deeply. He arched up when he was able again, eyes wide open, and nodded frantically his positive. "Ye—es, I do, Dra—aaahhh...mmm..."

"And I." Another hard kiss, all tongue, and a long-fingered hand spread flat across Harry's flinching bum spoke volumes. "Need you. Now—come here, come closer. Let me show you, Harry, everything there is to know about lovers. I want to, ever so much."

"Please!" Harry breathed, and went, trusting.