Draco walked a long way looking for "Help Wanted" signs and talked to a few proprietors. They'd have to call him back, they said. He had a Muggle mobile, but there weren't too many minutes left and the battery was low. It just gets better and better.

It took the better part of the day and no one looked particularly interested in hiring him on the spot. What did it matter? Maybe he'd be careless, step off the kerb, and be ploughed down by a lorry. That would end my troubles.

By late afternoon he was beginning to get hungry but knew he only had a few pounds in his pocket. He rummaged and pulled out three pound notes and one tener. Where did that come from? Potter! He must have slipped it in when Draco was in the loo. Damn him! He certainly didn't need his stupid pity. He stared at it and finally folded it and stuffed it back in his trouser pocket. It had been good to see magic again, though. First Harry's little stunt with the newspaper and then the Weasleys flooing in, even though their visit was distinctly uncomfortable.

Weasleys. Yes, a happily ever after for just about everyone. He noticed Harry was still alone. Either he was too picky for his own good or he was just playing the field. He was famous before, but the field had probably widened somewhat A.V.

And of course, Draco. Alone. He'd lost track of Pansy and even if he hadn't there would be no place for him with her. He was tired of her and she surely wouldn't want anything to do with him. He'd lost track of everyone else and it was just as well. Certainly he was lonely, but there didn't seem much time to dwell on it.

He bought some fish and chips from a vendor and leaned over Lambeth Bridge, throwing the rest down to the birds swooping over the Thames. How he used to hate Muggles and Muggle London. Funny how it just didn't matter to him much anymore. He tried not to think about his future, his immediate needs always being paramount, but wouldn't you know that stupid Potter had made him think again? The law. Funny how he wanted to study the law, he who had lived outside it for those last three years, one of which he should have been safely ensconced in his last year at Hogwarts. Foolishly he had thought an education a futile effort with Voldemort coming to power. He never believed Harry Potter was capable of taking down the Dark Lord. Did anyone ever believe it? Perhaps Voldemort had, though not as seriously as he should have done.

Draco walked all day and as the summer sun finally leaned toward the horizon, he realized he still had nowhere to go for the night. There was always a place under the bridges, he supposed, though they weren't the safest of haunts. The parks? Not much better. He found himself in front of the Leaky Cauldron and looked up at the sign wistfully. He could sure go for a butterbeer. Or better yet, a firewhiskey. Dare he risk it? Hogwarts was going to reopen this year and there might be families staying there ready to shop in Diagon Alley the following morning. But surely no one would know him anymore.

He put up the collar of his shirt, dug his hands into his pockets, and trudged in.

The place was a bit dim from the sooty fireplace, and a perpetual layer of smoke hung in the air. There weren't many in the place so he slid into a dark booth and hunched down. He had only a few galleons and sickles left, enough to buy a bottle of firewhiskey and get completely pissed. A barmaid he didn't recognize came over and he held his head down as he ordered it. She didn't know him either-thank goodness-and he settled in to wait for his bottle. When it came he wasted no time and quickly swallowed a glass full. It burned on the way down and he grimaced at the taste, but soon it warmed his belly and dulled his senses. He poured more.

It wasn't long until he was feeling no pain and he leaned heavily on his fist just staring at the worn wood of the table. The candle was burning low, its wax pooling on the wooden surface, and Draco dared to try a spell with his finger, moving the flame from the wick several inches and returning it. He smiled. Good to know he could still do something. It felt good to use magic. For the longest time it felt like the best part of him had been wrenched away. He never understood before how important it was. Oh, he knew from an intellectual and logical standpoint: magic was used for all the mundane chores of one's life. But he hadn't banked on the emotional side of it, how necessary it was for his well being, like music and green grass.

He picked up his empty glass and tried to steady the neck of the bottle on the glass' rim and poured sloppily. Harry Potter said there was a chance he could get his wand back. Was that really possible? "Well, if Harry Potter says so," he muttered, "it must be true. Here's to Harry Potter." He drank it down and then started coughing. "You see," he told himself. "Even I thought that was hard to swallow."

"Well look who's here."

Draco raised his face blearily and tried to focus his eyes. Blaise Zabini and Marcus Flint. What in the world were they doing here? Oh, that's right. They belonged here. It was he who was out of place. "My old friends from Slytherin," Draco slurred. "I'd invite you for a drink-" He looked at his bottle. "But it appears to be empty. So I guess I will invite you to sod off instead."

"Hey Tom!" cried Zabini to the tavern keeper. "Do you want me to take out this rubbish?"

"What's that?" cried Tom, trying to peer over his bar.

"It's Draco Malfoy. Surely you don't want that sort in your place."

"Malfoy?" He leaned over the bar and nearly plummeted over the far side. "Get him out of here!"

Zabini and Flint each took an arm. "Come along, Mr. Death Eater. Your kind aren't welcomed here."

"Who's a Death Eater?" mumbled Draco. "Not me. I gave it up. Ask the Wizengamot. There are no more Death Eaters."

They dragged Malfoy to the exit and burst through the doors. Malfoy thought they'd merely heave him into the street, but they weren't quite done yet. They dragged him to the alley and shoved him against the wall. "Thought you'd be the Dark Lord's little minion, did you?" said Zabini. "Do you know how many Slytherin families you destroyed with your little stunt?" He punctuated this question with a punch to the gut. Malfoy went down, the breath knocked out of him. Zabini let him fall. "Keep your ugly face from decent Wizarding society, Malfoy," he said, kicking Draco.

Flint leaned over, kicked him, and spat. They marched away and left Draco lying on the wet street, his face on the kerb, his body sore. "A brilliant end to a brilliant day," he said to the gutter. He lay for a while until his body was able to move and he stood, swayed, and began to wander, the alcohol in him barely keeping him upright.

* * *

Harry flooed back from Hogwarts and sat heavily in his chair. It had been a long day, not only readying his room and lessons, but trying to teach himself some new charms and spells so he could at least be a step ahead of the seventh years. Remus helped him with a lot of lessons but his own practical experience taught him to throw out many of the old lesson plans. Now that Voldemort was gone, people seemed to think they could relax. But Harry was of the mind of Mad-Eye Moody: "Vigilance! Constant vigilance!" or another Dark Lord could rise. Defense against the Dark arts was always wise. You just never knew what the future would bring. Harry didn't think he had it in him again to defeat another Dark Lord. Maybe it would be someone else's prophecy next time.

Had he heard it? It sounded like a knock on his door, but a glance at the clock told him it was past eleven. Who would come calling at this hour? There it was again. He rose and went to the door and opened it.

Draco fell into his arms. He was muddy, bruised and smelled to high heaven like alcohol. "Sorry to drop in on you," he said.

Harry dragged him in and sat him on the couch. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Let's see," said Draco, ticking off the events on unsteady fingers. "First there was the firewhiskey, then there was Blaise Zabini and Marcus Flint, and then there was the alley-or was it the alley and then Zabini and Flint-"

"You need coffee."

"Oh Potter, you know that's an old wives tale. It only makes for a wide-awake drunk. And then I'm trotting to the loo from all that coffee."

"Exactly," said Harry, putting the kettle on. "I take it you ran into some old friends."

"No. The friends ran into me. With their fists. Good thing I was drunk."

Harry pulled his wand and aimed it at Draco. "Ennervate!"

Draco slammed back into the sofa and shook his head. "Well that helped a little." He waved his hand when Harry lifted his wand again. "No. I still need that little buzz."

"How did the job hunt go?" Harry asked, tucking his wand away and getting the instant coffee down from a cupboard.

"Oh smashing. Brilliant. So many offers I didn't know which to take."

Harry sighed. "It will go better tomorrow." He spooned an extra helping of coffee into a mug and pointed his finger at the kettle which instantly went on the boil. He took it off and poured the water in the mug, stirred it a few times, and then brought it over to Draco. "Here you go." Draco took it and sipped, pulling a face at its bitterness.

"I told you to stay. Dumbledore said it would be all right. Get in his good graces and you won't have to put up with crap like that anymore."

"Dumbledore's good graces. Blimey, Potter. That's why I'm alive at all. It's all because of Dumbledore's good graces. Because of his mercy." The last choked on a sob, and he hid it by taking another gulp of coffee.

Harry stared at the worn carpet. There wasn't a sound except for a clock ticking and Draco sloppily sipping from his mug. Sitting next to Draco in companionable silence was very comforting. He looked over at him and Draco's eyes were looking him over too. He set the mug down on the table and leaned back. "So you've rescued me again."

"Nothing of the sort. You just knocked on my door and I opened it."

"You opened it. You didn't have to."

"Course I did. The neighbors would have started to complain about the racket."

Draco chuckled and leaned forward, his face very close to Harry's. Harry felt the heat of him pulsating like a coal grate. "You're funny, Potter. Why weren't we friends?"

"If I remember correctly, you hated me."

"Not at first. I tried to be your friend."

Harry remembered how Draco extended his hand in friendship on the train, but it was tempered with terms and alliances. Draco didn't want so much to be Harry's friend as his collaborator.

"I didn't quite fancy your…conditions."

Draco made a slow smile. "Conditions. Clever. Yes. Definitely strings attached. It's the Slytherin way." He leaned closer, his grey eyes raking over Harry's face. Draco was still very attractive, even though his cheeks were a bit hollowed and his eye sockets a bit dark. There were still those penetrating eyes, that seductive hair, those lips twisted in a sneer more often than not. Harry had spent a lot of sleepless nights at Hogwarts thinking about those lips and how they would feel to kiss. He thought about it now.

Draco's eyes traveled up from Harry's to his forehead and Harry inhaled a hissing breath when Draco suddenly touched the spot that had been cause of so much of his fame. "It's almost completely gone, isn't it?" Draco's breath puffed onto Harry's face. His finger caressed the lightning bolt scar. It was true. It had been fading steadily since Voldemort's death. In another year it will have vanished.

But Harry wasn't thinking of scars or Voldemort. He was thinking how sensuous Draco's fingers were on his face, how close his lips were, and Draco's body language, and he just couldn't resist leaning closer and pressing his lips to Draco's. He just touched them lightly at first, then added pressure when he found no resistance. He raised his hand to Draco's cheek, reaching higher to his soft hair. He pulled his head forward and rubbed his lips lovingly over Draco's, finally pushing his tongue between his lips and running it over Draco's warm, soft tongue. Harry opened his mouth wider and encompassed Draco's mouth, kissing him deeply, feeling his own pulse throb under his skin, his heart hammer in his chest. How sweet he tasted; how amazing were his lips glued to Harry's.

But as soon as it began, he could feel Draco shrinking away. Draco's lips moved over Harry's, but not to kiss. "Um…what are you doing, Potter?" he murmured.

Harry pulled back and released him. "Er…kissing you."

Draco stiffened against the sofa back. "I can see that. But why? Are you…gay?"

"Yup. Aren't you?"

"No-o-o."

"Oh. Sorry." Harry leaned away and brushed his black hair back with his hand. "Really sorry. I thought you were sending me signals."

"Signals? I don't know about any signals, but my broom just doesn't sweep that way, mate."

"Like I said. Sorry."

Draco chuckled and wiped his mouth. "Shit. This has been quite a day. The Great Harry Potter turns out to be a ponce and me the object of his affection." Remarkably, he was smiling and shaking his head. But then something stopped him. "Hang on. Is that why you took me in?"

"Of course not!"

"So this is a sudden thing, then."

Harry rose from the sofa and headed for the kitchen. He didn't say anything.

It seemed Draco didn't like the silence. "Whoa, Potter. Speak to me. Is this a long time affection?"

Harry turned the fire on under the kettle and took down the tea tin. He felt his ears getting warm. "Well…er…a little while, I guess."

"What?" Draco sat up and then staggered to the kitchen counter. He slid into the chair. "Since school?"

Harry raised his brows and shrugged.

"When? Not that first day?"

"No. I didn't know I was gay then. It was…was…." Did he really want to say? He busied himself getting the tea things. Why did Malfoy have to stare at him like that? He wished the kiss could have gone on longer since it was all he was ever likely to get. "Well…since our fourth year."

"Blimey!" Draco pushed his hair off his face and shook his head. "You say since fourth year? You mean-"

"Our sixth year I wasn't very happy with you, I'll tell you that. And what would have been our seventh, I can honestly say, I wasn't intent on that kind of a relationship."

Draco sobered. It was clear he was thinking of those years too. But then he looked up. "But what about now? What about today?"

Harry tapped his impatient fingers on the stove waiting for the water to boil. "It's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"You love me. Blimey, Potter. You love me."

"I didn't say that."

"Crikey, Potter! Geez!"

"Oh grow up!" The kettle whistled and Harry slapped the fire off. He splashed the water into his mug and flopped the teabag about. Harry retreated back to the sofa and Draco-strangely alert-followed and sat beside him. Harry would have thought he'd be disgusted and sit somewhere else, but he was sitting uncomfortably close.

He watched Harry blow at the hot tea, watched him take a tentative sip, and hold the mug against his chest. Harry couldn't stand it anymore and turned to him. "What?"

"So, Harry," he said, in that old Slytherin way of his from days gone by, "if I had kissed you back, what would have been your next move?"

"What? Malfoy!"

"No, I mean it. I find this fascinating." He inched closer. His voice dropped to a low purr. "Would you have undressed me?"

Harry stared into his mug, afraid to move. "If you'd wanted me to."

"And then what? I mean after all the kissing, would you have…you know. Touched me?"

"Draco."

"Would you have?"

"Yes," he answered crisply.

"How?"

Harry turned to him, cleaving his green eyes to Draco's grey. "Why don't you come to the bedroom and find out."

Draco laughed but not too loudly and it quickly subsided. "You know, if you're going to seduce men, you're going to have to kiss better than that."

"I kiss just fine, thank you."

"Oh you think so. Well, Mr. Potter, I'm just drunk enough to tell you otherwise." And Draco reached for Harry's head, turned his face, and pulled him in. Draco's lips planted on Harry's and almost as soon as they touched, Draco opened his mouth wide, plunging his tongue between Harry's lips. He rubbed his mouth over Harry's, slipping his warm tongue sensuously over Harry's teeth, jousting with his tongue, and feasting on his taste and breath. Taken off guard, Harry could do nothing but succumb…and then he didn't want to do anything but.

He wrapped his arms around Draco and held him in a tight embrace. He released Draco's mouth and trailed kisses down his neck, licking at the base of his throat, trailing back up, and chewing on his ear lobe.

Just as Harry got started, Draco pushed him back again. "Well all right then," said Draco with a shaky voice. "You do know how to kiss. If I weren't a bloke I'd be very happy to continue."

Harry tried to catch his breath and sat back. "If you weren't a bloke I wouldn't be interested."

Draco touched the corner of his wet mouth with a finger. "Yeah. Right."

They fell silent again and suddenly looked at each other.

"It's late," said Harry abruptly. "There's a job for you at Hogwarts if you want it. We'll floo there in the morning. And I won't try anything anymore. But just for the record…." He stood up and walked stiffly to his bedroom. "You kiss very well indeed."


On to Chapter Five
"Hogwarts from the Ashes"

Back to Chapter Three
"Old Rivalries"

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