Harry and Draco arrived at the Puce Dragon by taxi and Harry noticed how excited Malfoy was. "Slow down, there," he said to him, laughing, as Draco trotted toward the velvet rope before the door. "What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? Harry, maybe you're used to being gay but I'm not. You're the only other gay man I've ever really met."

"You met two of my old boyfriends."

"And that went wonderfully, didn't it? Until I turned one of them into a pile of shit."

"Well you were saving my life."

"So maybe they weren't the best example."

"But why so excited?"

Draco looked at Harry as if he had turned green. "This is a big thing! It was hard enough coming out at first. I was brave about it because of you. But I want to be with others. You know. Rub elbows in the gay world."

"Just elbows?" muttered Harry.

"Oh don't be an arse. You think I'd come to a gay club on my honeymoon to pick up men?"

"You just want to meet the girls, then?"

Draco scowled. Hermione had taken to calling Draco her new "girlfriend" and it didn't sit well with the Slytherin. "If you're going to make fun-"

Harry laughed. "I'm not making fun. It's just part of the vocabulary." He slipped his arm into Draco's. "And I thought we came to dance, anyway."

Draco's expression softened. "Yes, you're right. Remember, I only have eyes for you." And he gave Harry a kiss on the cheek and led the way forward.

Draco exchanged words with the man at the door and he let them through. The music was loud and pulsed in Harry's chest. Though it was Draco's first time in such a club it certainly wasn't Harry's. After Voldemort was no more Harry had the luxury of thinking about himself for a change and at a future he had never quite believed he would have. It was time to start coming to grips with his own sexuality and since Draco Malfoy-his longtime unapproachable heartthrob-had disappeared into the Muggle world and out of Harry's sight, Harry had to get on with things. Which meant finding someone to be with…and more immediately, someone with whom he could trust to lose his virginity. He deliberately shied away from anyone from the Wizarding world, knowing being the Famous Harry Potter was going to make true intimacy an impossible expectation. He met his first Muggle boyfriend in a London park, but he'd met the next two Muggle men in clubs like this one.

Harry wasn't the type to go in for anonymous sex and one-offs. He wanted relationships, thinking it only proper. And it took him a while to learn to trust. But none of these relationships ever lasted more than a few months. It became too complicated when they wanted to delve more into his life, and he wasn't prepared to enlighten them about the Wizarding world. He remembered when his first boyfriend asked about that "funny old broom you keep propped in the corner." Harry knew that was the beginning of the end. Ever after, he kept his Firebolt hidden in a closet. And then he considered how poignant that notion was: He was 'out' but his broom was 'in'. After three stalled Muggle relationships, he turned to wizards-two-but those relationships didn't last either. He couldn't figure out why until Draco met the two wizards inadvertently at the Ministry and pointed out with some irony that they both resembled Draco himself. Harry had to admit then that all his boyfriends, including the Muggles, bore more than a passing resemblance to Draco. And, of course, that was the answer to his doomed relationships: He was still pining for Malfoy, a man he never believed he had a chance of getting at all.

"Bloody amazing, really," he muttered to himself, clutching Draco's hand as his spouse dragged him through the crowd to the dance floor.

Draco leaned in and took Harry in his arms. "Shall we dazzle them with our skills?"

"You can dazzle them with yours. I'm just along for the ride."

"Don't sell yourself short. You follow my lead divinely." And perhaps to prove it, Draco twirled Harry and brought him back up against him. Then he took him in earnest and they danced to the throbbing rhythms.

They danced for an hour until Harry, gasping, had to drag Draco away from the dance floor. "Gotta rest," he managed to say, and stumbled with him to the bar.

"Yeah. A breather is what we need." He turned to the bar. "And fortification. What's your poison, Potter?"

Harry slid onto the stool, resting his sore feet. "Er…I don't know. Don't really drink anything but wine or beer."

"Well let's get you something else." Draco ordered martinis for both of them.

"Since when do you drink these?" asked Harry, watching with interest as Draco licked the sweat off his upper lip.

"Used to drink it occasionally with the parents at the manor." He lowered his eyes from Harry. "I know you don't like to hear about them-"

"I never said that. You can talk about them if you want. They were your parents, after all." Even though they wanted me dead, he never said aloud.

"Yeah, well." The drinks arrived and Draco clasped the glass's stem between his fingers. He clinked the glass against Harry's. "To us."

"I'll drink to that." Harry lifted the glass, took a drink, and immediately coughed it across the bar.

Draco slapped his back. "Forgot to tell you. Pure alcohol."

"Thanks," croaked Harry. He tried it again, taking a smaller sip this time. It tasted vaguely of alcoholic perfume.

Draco sipped his elegantly and a man sidled up to him and said something seductively. Draco smiled a Slytherin smile and said something back in French to the man. The man eyed Harry with a snort of disdain and moved away.

"Was he hitting on you?" asked Harry.

"I told him I was with someone."

"But he was hitting on you?"

"Well Harry, this is a gay club, right? Gay men are likely to hit on me."

"I think you're enjoying this too much."

Draco sighed and drank his drink. "Do you want to leave?"

Harry's gaze swept the room. It was a great place, really, and the foreign music and the Muggles all around them made it interesting, as it always did. And Draco truly did need to identify with the crowd a bit. Harry also didn't like this feeling of jealousy running through him, knowing how perfectly ridiculous it was. They were in love. Nothing was going to change that. They had just gone through a tremendously arduous process to get married. Their magic was joined. There was no way Draco was going to cheat on him now.

He shook his head. "No. Of course not. I'm actually having a good time. Tell me about the hôtel. Did you used to go there with your parents?"

Draco raised his brows. "I did, actually. How did you know?"

"Just guessed. Reckoned you did by the way you were talking to that hôtel chap."

Draco sighed and sipped. He leaned his elbows on the bar. "Yes. We used to come here every other year. It was the only Muggle place my parents tolerated. Don't know why. But I loved it. Always felt welcomed here."

Harry drank some more. After the initial taste, it began to grow on him. "Tell me about your parents."

Draco raked Harry coldly with his grey eyes. "Why?" There was a lot of Slytherin in that tone.

"I realize I only knew them in one way. You know them in a completely different way. The way I might have known them if all that-you know-other stuff hadn't happened. Voldemort," he mouthed.

He frowned. "I know what you mean, you idiot." He tipped the glass back, pulled out the olive, and popped it in his mouth. He slid the glass across the bar and gestured for the bartender to fill it up again. "Well…my mother was great. She cared about everything I did, everything I felt. She would have been okay with my being gay. Probably knew anyway. Wouldn't put it past her. We loved to shop together. She had amazing taste. She always planned every detail of the parties at Malfoy Manor and they were marvelous affairs. I think she was everything you would want in a mother. She was to me. She was loving, she was interesting, she was beautiful, she was fun. I miss her." The drink arrived and Draco immediately took a long draught. "My father was wonderful," he continued, twirling the half-empty glass. "He was like a prince. He knew everything, knew everyone. He used to spend hours with me teaching me spells and hexes ever before I got to Hogwarts."

"He let you use magic at home? An underage wizard?"

He chuckled. "He didn't much care to follow the rules. Especially Ministry rules."

"That's why you were so good at it when we first dueled."

"You weren't bad yourself. And you probably didn't practice at home at all."

"Privet Drive was never my home. Not really."

"Muggles." He shivered and then looked around, remembering. "Well. I guess they're all right."

"Most are."

"Well anyway. My father was a very gifted wizard and we spent a lot of time together. He was really proud of me. Told me so. Always told me I'd be great some day." He giggled. "Taught me some really nasty things to do to-"

Draco stopped talking abruptly and Harry glanced at him. His pale skin was blushing a deep red. Harry suddenly understood. "He taught you some nasty things to do to me, right?"

Tipping his glass up, Draco nodded. Then he shrugged. "That was Father. Always looking out for the Malfoy name and honour. And he viewed you as someone who dishonoured the name. And of course we were bound to Voldemort as well. He taught me about that, too."

The olive bobbed against Harry's upper lip as he drained the last from his glass. He felt a little light-headed. "I'm sorry it turned out this way. I'm sorry they didn't like me. I'm sorry…I didn't like them."

"Oh well. Father trying to kill you and all. It's to be expected."

"Yeah. I guess so."

Draco tipped the glass back and drained his again. He set it down and pushed away from the bar. "I've got to go to the loo. I'll be back."

Harry thought he noted a bit of a strain in his voice and said nothing as Draco headed through the throng.

The bartender gestured to Harry if he wanted another, but Harry shook his head. He turned away from the bar and watched the men dancing under the colored lights and haze of cigarette smoke. He was glad he was out of this scene. He really didn't enjoy it much. He imagined Draco would have done. But now here he was, tied to Harry. He frowned a bit. For the first time something at the back of his mind grew just a little bit more, edging to the forefront, and he dared give it breathing room by wondering if it had been a mistake getting married so young. Of course Harry had been absolutely certain about Draco. He had loved him for years, after all. But Draco had only discovered his orientation a year ago. Was it right to saddle him with Harry for the rest of his life?

Harry shook his head. Why was he thinking these thoughts? It must be the alcohol. That was a strong drink. Only firewhiskey was as strong. At least he thought so.

This was silly. Draco loved him. And when you love someone, it's for keeps, right? They were ready for this. If Draco wasn't he would have said "no"- Wait. He had said "no" at first. Harry had convinced him to say "yes". Told him that it wasn't a mistake. That Harry wouldn't regret it. That's what Draco had worried about. But what about Draco regretting it? That had not come up.

He shook his head again. Why was he doing this? This was insane. He loved Draco and Draco loved him. End of story.

Harry felt his neck hairs prickle and he snapped his head to the side and found himself staring into a pair of dark, glittering eyes. The face belonging to those eyes was pale and his nose a bit big and hooked, reminding him absurdly of Snape. His hair, too, was dark and hung much like Snape's did. But unlike Snape, this man was strangely attractive. He was older, possibly Snape's age when last Harry saw him. He spoke to Harry in French with a dark, silky voice. Harry didn't understand him but that didn't mean he didn't want to listen. But at last Harry had to shrug. "English. I only speak English," he said shaking his head.

The man's pale lips curled into a smile. "You are foreign. I speak English." His voice was heavily accented but the silky tone was the same. He blinked languidly.

"Right." Harry tore his gaze away and glanced about the room. "Great place, this," he said nervously.

The man edged closer. "I have not seen you here before."

"First time. In France, that is."

"Are you here with someone?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. My husband, actually." It was the first time Harry had said it aloud to another person, and though sounding a bit odd on his ear, he found he relished the saying of it. He thumbed his wedding ring.

"Husband? This is so in England?"

"Yes. W-where I come from, yes." He almost said in the Wizarding community. He didn't fancy Obliviating this man and was glad he caught himself, though he wondered vaguely if he was a wizard. He had that way about him. He wondered how he could broach the topic without Legilemizing him. He wished that maybe witches and wizards could all wear some sort of pin so they could easily identify one another.

"A pity. You are a very handsome man. A man with much…power."

Harry's eyes widened. "How do you-?"

But Harry couldn't speak. The man had moved closer. Harry felt suddenly vague as if he were viewing it all in a dream. The man's eyes concentrated on Harry's and then the man's lips were pressed against Harry's neck. The sensation was instantly arousing and all thoughts of Draco slipped away.

"But I mustn't," purred the man. He drew away from his neck and planted a kiss on Harry's lips. It started as a brief one, but he soon breached Harry's lips and plunged his tongue in, kissing Harry with a hungry fervency. Harry found himself responding, chewing on those cool lips, plastering his mouth to the other. The man finally drew back and Harry felt a tingle on his lips as if he'd gotten a small electric shock. And before his muddled mind could think further about, the man picked up Harry's hand from where it lay limply against his side and took his index finger into his mouth. He sucked on it sensuously, watching Harry. Harry felt the tiniest of nips on the end of his finger, winced at it, but then the man sucked the blood away with an ecstatic expression on his face. It seemed to warm his cheeks and they coloured with a rosy blush. The feeling had gone straight to Harry's groin, giving him an instant erection and he sighed his disappointment when the man took Harry's wet finger from his mouth and let his hand drop away. The man smiled. "I'm sure we'll meet again." He ran his hand under Harry's jaw, trailing a finger toward his chin and lifting it. "Before I go, Mon petit, tell me your name."

"Harry. Harry Potter."

"Well Harry Potter. Provence is not so big a place. We will see each other again. Au revoir."

He swept away, and once he'd gone from Harry's line of sight, Harry felt as if he had awakened from a brief nap. He shook his head to clear it. What had just happened? He wasn't exactly sure. Some man was hitting on him but then left…At least he thought that's what happened. He looked around but saw no one.

A man came up to him on his other side and gestured to the crowded floor. "That guy. Spooky. He's been stalking people all night," he said.

Harry turned to the man. He had an American accent and was clean-cut and dark-haired. "Really?" He was desperately trying to recall what happened. "What a prat."

"You're British. Do you live here or are you vacationing?"

"I don't live here. I'm…actually on my honeymoon."

"No kidding!" He put his hand out to shake. "Congratulations."

Harry blushed and shook his hand. "Thanks. It's all still a bit new."

"I hear you. You're in for a whole new experience. I just came off of a long term relationship myself," he said, voice slightly strained. "Came here with some friends to put it behind me. Of course, they've ditched me so I'd mingle. I forgot how to do this scene."

"Yeah. I don't envy you."

"I envy you." He looked at Harry.

Harry wanted to tell the man that he was good-looking and seemed like a nice bloke and everything would probably be okay, but that wasn't always the case, so Harry kept silent. "Well, as long as you stay away from that scary bloke, it should be all right."

"Yeah. Good advice. Look, not that I'm hitting on you or anything, but what's your name? I'm Walter."

"Harry." And they shook hands again, but laughed when they realized they already had once.

"Can I buy you a drink, Harry? Just a congratulatory one."

"Oh…" Harry turned toward the bar. "You know, I'm just waiting-"

"That's okay," said Walter, waving his hand and facing the bar beside him. "I was just getting in some practice."

Harry chuckled and slowly sobered, thinking. "How long were you together?"

"Five years. I really expected to go long-term. I'm not one of those guys who likes to play the field. But he felt smothered, so…"

"Hmm."

"So how about you and your…husband? How long have you been together?"

"Oh…really only a year."

"A year? And you got married?"

"Well…the thing of it is, we've known each other for years before. We just…never got together."

"One of you not out of the closet?"

"Yeah. Surprising, really."

Walter leaned on the bar and pushed a coaster on the wet surface. "So what do you do, Harry?"

"I'm a teacher."

"Really? What do you teach?"

"Er…Defense Against...er…against anything, I guess," he ended lamely.

"Oh, like Judo or something?"

"Something like that."

"Not one of those English boarding schools?"

"Yes, actually. The same one I attended."

"Really. There's supposed to be a lot of action at those schools. Was it like that when you were a kid? We're a little envious of them in the States."

"Action? Oh…oh no. It's not like that. Could have used a little when I attended, but no. Not like that. And it's girls and boys."

"I see. All my fantasies are crumbling." He took a drink from his sweaty glass. "You must enjoy teaching, I bet. Kids are great, aren't they? I coach a little football. Not the same as British football, I guess, but you know."

"That's wonderful."

"Yeah. Kids. I was hoping to have kids someday. Guess I'll have to find that relationship that sticks, right? What about you? Ever think about kids?"

"No, I haven't. I mean, I just got married yesterday and we went through a bloody mess trying to get through it."

"Family problems?"

"No family to get in the way, thank goodness. But Ministry-I mean government paperwork and…and such."

"Oh yes. What a pain. Easier to get your dog licensed than for two gay men to marry. What a world."

"It's getting better."

"What's going on here?"

Harry spun. Draco stood behind him with his hands at his hips. He was scowling. Harry straightened and gave Draco an angry look. "Walter, this is my jealous husband, Draco."

Walter put his hand out. "'Draco'? That's an unusual name. Is that English?"

"It's mine. And I'm not jealous. I'm just wondering what the hell's going on."

"We were just talking, Draco," said Walter placatingly. "Look. I guess I'll leave you two alone and find my friends. It was nice meeting you both. Congratulations again." He waved and left.

Harry turned on Draco. "You didn't have to be so rude. He was just being friendly. He's just come off of a long-term relationship. He was probably lonely."

"Yes, well let him be lonely with someone else's husband."

"Draco, sometimes you can be quite an arse."

Draco scowled which soon turned to contrition. "I'm sorry. It's just…there you were talking to some man-"

"It's a gay club! Who do you expect me to be talking to?"

"All right! I said I was sorry. Do you want to leave?"

Draco had such a sorrowful look on his face that Harry's heart melted. "No, you pillock. Let's dance."

Draco's sorrowful expression turned to a smiling one. "Thought you'd never ask."

They escaped to the dance floor again and the music turned to some slow rhythms. This made Harry happier as he wanted to lean against Draco. He put his cheek against his lover's and rocked with him, allowing Draco to lead. "That's better," he murmured.

"You like slow dancing," Draco commented.

"'Course. It gives me an excuse to grind against you."

"You don't need an excuse, mate. Anytime."

"I know." They danced a while and Harry couldn't help but play the conversation with Walter in his head. "Draco?"

"Yes, Harry love?"

"Do you ever think of…children?"

"Have to all the time, don't I? I teach classes, remember?"

"That's…not what I mean."

There was a pause before Draco pulled back suddenly and stared Harry in the face. "What are you talking about? You mean kids? Of our own?"

"Well…yeah. Someday."

He made a sound deep in his throat and yanked Harry back against him. He stumbled. "Blimey, Potter! We just got married."

"I didn't mean tomorrow! Oh just forget it."

They danced distractedly in silence for another set. Draco finally spoke. "Okay. So maybe I have thought about it."

"Really?"

"Well sure. Father was always trying to line me up with likely candidates for wives. Have to maintain the family line. We all thought Parkinson was it, you know?"

"I didn't think you loved her?"

"I didn't. Didn't even much like her. Now I think she's all right."

"But you would have married her?"

"Sure. Purebloods are hard to come by. Beggars can't be choosers. This was, of course, if our side-I mean, if Voldemort had won."

Harry let the slip go unmentioned. "You would have been miserable."

"Since I wasn't too happy as a Death Eater it was immeasurably preferable, I can assure you. Of course, after getting together with you, it's now completely unimaginable." He gave Harry a squeeze.

Harry squeezed back. "What made you do it? Come to me that particular night?" Harry thought back on that one, marvelous night a year ago when Draco declared his sexuality to himself as well as to Harry…in Harry's bed.

"It was a really good day. I was suddenly a wizard again. Dumbledore offered me the post as potions master. I couldn't remember feeling that good before and I just thought about how it all happened and it all came down to you. And then I thought about how I felt about you and suddenly everything clicked into place. I had quite the hard-on. You can imagine how astonished I was that it was for a man and you in particular."

"I'm certainly grateful, though."

Draco held Harry closer. Their cheeks were touching again. "You were so gentle with me. And I wanted to feel everything. I wanted it all."

"You certainly did."

"And you supplied it, you slut."

"You're calling me a slut? I'm not the one that begged to be-"

"Now, now. I just wanted to experience the whole gay sex thing, you know. It was all new to me."

"I wanted you so badly." He crushed Draco to him and brushed his lips along his lover's cheek. "I'd wanted you for years. I was afraid it was a dream."

"I'm yours forever, Harry," he whispered. "Just try to get rid of me."

Harry smiled into Draco's neck.

"But you've managed to change the subject, Harry love."

"Mmm?"

"You were talking about kids."

"Oh. Well. Just for a conversation in the future."

"Oh no you don't. That's not how you work. You're as devious as any woman. You will pick at me until there's nothing left but bones. So let's talk now."

"O-k-a-ay. What shall we-?"

"Do you want kids, Harry?"

"Um…yes. I think I do."

"So have you thought about the mechanics of it?"

"The…the mechanics?"

"Yes, you twit. Adoption or surrogate?"

"Oh! Well, no."

"It would have to be surrogate. Bloodlines, you know."

"You really still care about all that? Even after Voldemort-"

"Especially. Maybe we should each consider it, us being the ends of our respective lines."

"Oh, I don't know, Draco. I don't much care about that. Though it would be fun having a little Draco running about."

Malfoy smiled. "Really? You'd like that?"

"Sure. Always wondered what a humble Malfoy would be like."

Draco bit his earlobe.

"Ow! That hurt!"

"Manners, Potter. So. This we'll keep in mind for a later conversation, right?"

"Right. For now, I'm just content to be your new husband and to dance the night away with you in my arms… And maybe get a plaster for my ear."

"I can agree to that. Both."

When they finally returned to the hotel at sunrise, Harry remembered very little about the evening but Draco in his arms. He never noticed the figure in the shadows, watching.


On to Chapter Three
"The Byways of Provence"

Back to Chapter One
"Dark Shadows"

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