The days following Voldemort's death were filled with celebrations, speeches, and interviews. And when Harry was called upon to speak-as it seemed he had to every other day-all he could think to say was, "I'm just really glad it's over."

Hailed as the Hero, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived Again, Harry felt more like crawling into a hole. The term at Hogwarts had one more month but students and teachers alike didn't feel much like attending classes. Voldemort was dead! Really dead. And every morning that Harry awoke in Draco's arms, he simply lay there, thinking the unthinkable. That he was free at last.

"You look worried," said Draco over the pillow one morning.

"Do I?" He rolled to his back and stretched. "I don't know. You know, it's kind of funny. I never expected to survive Voldemort. So now...well. I guess I don't quite know what to do with myself."

A smile stole over Draco's face and he turned to Harry, propping his head on his hand and arching a brow. "I know what to do with you."

Harry smiled back. "'Course you do, you randy tosser. I meant with the rest of my life."

"What do you want to do?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess I thought I'd become an Auror."

"Then do it. You can do anything you bloody well want to do. Run for Minister for Magic. You'd win, you know."

Harry laughed. "I would, wouldn't I. That's a scary thought."

"No scarier than Scrimgour getting another crack at it."

Harry stared at the ceiling. "I mean...when term is over...I guess I could get a room at the Leaky Cauldron. Or stay at the Burrow. I don't...I mean I don't have a place to live, really." He looked at Draco and tried to chuckle. "That's pathetic, isn't it? The Hero. No place to call home."

But Draco was smiling. "Live with me."

"You still want to get a flat with me?"

"Well, gosh, Potter. After you were able to kill the Dark Lord because of your unending love for me, I guess I'd still like to shack up with you. If you still do, that is."

He turned to face Draco and lifted a finger to trace along Draco's pink lips. "Yeah, I still do. You don't mind being the Boy Who Lived's boyfriend, do you?"

"I can think of worse things." He leaned over and kissed Harry before allowing Harry to resume touching his face.

"In the meantime I guess I could get a room at the Leaky Cauldron."

"You'll do nothing of the kind. You'll move into Malfoy Manor."

Malfoy Manor? But wasn't that where Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy lived? "Oh...er...I dunno, Draco. Maybe that's just too cozy..."

"My mother and father are in another wing." He frowned. "What's the matter, Potter? Not good enough for a celebrity?"

"Don't be that way, Draco. It's just that your dad and mum and I haven't always gotten along. I don't know that I want to live with them, even temporarily. And before you say anything, think about what they will say about it. Have you asked them?"

"No," he said, toying with the sheets. "But I'm sure it will be all right. You know, Dumbledore's asked Father to stay on as Defense teacher. And I think he sort of likes the attention. So Harry Potter living under his roof might be just the thing. You know. Sway everyone's feelings. So they won't hate the Malfoys anymore. Maybe even the Ministry will unfreeze our assets. And the manor is in the middle of the country. Nice and quiet. Away from prying eyes and reporters."

That part sounded good. But living with Lucius and Narcissa? That didn't sound good at all.

A hand caressed Harry's face and he turned to look at Draco. "Let me ease that worry from your brow, Mr. Potter." He kissed Harry's temple gently, tenderly. Harry closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply feel Draco's soft lips against his face. Mmmm. Draco sure was good at this. Draco's long fingers began stroking his neck, down his shoulders, and across his chest. He ran just the fingertips over Harry's nipples and Harry arched into it, suddenly panting at the feather touches Draco inflicted on him. The kisses, too, were becoming more demanding, nipping a little at his ear and chin. Lips dragged down his neck and suckled, leaving Harry trembling with renewed desire.

Draco's hands shifted to Harry's ribcage and then his hips, where they grasped and a naked body slithered over him, hard dick pressed against his own. Without opening his eyes, Harry writhed into the sensation of hot skin on skin, thrusting up into Draco's groin. He opened his legs and the Slytherin's knees touched the bed between them. Harry planted his feet on the bed with knees bent to the ceiling. He opened his thighs further and offered his aching hole to his lover. They'd already been at it most of the night and Harry was pretty sore, but he preferred nothing to Draco's slow seduction and taking.

The magic words were whispered and Harry felt an extra coating inside him. Draco thought of everything, knowing Harry was probably sore. He whimpered in anticipation, raising his hips and waiting for the moment he would feel Draco's cock. There! The head was at his entrance and Harry opened himself, having long practice at it now. Draco pushed in slowly and Harry felt himself envelop Draco's hard flesh, sucking him in to the place he belonged. He couldn't help expel a sighed, "Ooooh!" It felt so right. So perfect. So full and hard. "Draco...." he moaned.

Lips were at his neck again. Breath puffed harsh against his skin between the nibbles and the kisses. He heard a soft "Harry...." breathed over him, leaving a tingle of gooseflesh in its wake.

Draco slowly thrust in and out, his hips making a leisurely rhythm. Harry raised his legs until the back of his thighs rested against his lover's chest. He rolled his hips and gasped as Draco reached under him and cupped each buttock. His fingers squeezed the rounded flesh, touching it, pulling it toward him, opening it. "Oh Harry. You have a superb bottom. Worth O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s and awards and trophies and whatnots."

"Mmmm," Harry replied, too preoccupied with the cock in his arse stabbing deeper with each thrust.

Draco leaned in and kissed him proper on the mouth, teasing with his teeth and moistening both their lips with his tongue. Harry opened his mouth and joined his tongue to Draco's, kissing him deeply, using the kiss to convey his love. Draco continued with the maddeningly slow pace, but Harry could tell Draco was getting closer. He suddenly grasped Harry's dick and pulled on it, rubbing his fingers hard over the ridge and the head. Harry raised his hips into it and thrust into Draco's hand. They both took on an undulating rhythm that kept jabbing deeper. Draco's hand moved faster over Harry's cock. The familiar sensations burst up from his balls and he choked out a cry with his orgasm, squeezing down on Draco's cock in his arse. Draco stabbed forward hard and came, teeth clenched and head thrown back.

He didn't move. Harry pried opened his eyes and looked at Draco, back still arched, white chest pushed out, head back as if in a perpetual orgasm. He watched as his lover's muscles eventually relaxed and his body slumped. He opened his grey eyes and looked down at Harry. "God, Harry! You are so good!"

"M'so are you, love."

Draco fell off of him and lay by his side, throwing a leg over him. They both panted, their sweat glistening in the candlelight. Harry's hand eventually snaked up under his pillow and grasped his wand, but he was too weak to bring it out. He incanted "Scourgify!" and the magic managed to clean them both even from under his pillow.

Harry slowly turned toward Draco and pulled the covers over them both. He blinked at the flushed face of his lover and smiled. "You are really something else, Draco Malfoy."

Draco waggled his blond brows. "You better believe it, Potter."

Harry couldn't stop smiling. "Remember how we used to hate each other? I mean really hate."

"Yeah. You annoyed me so much."

"I annoyed you? Why?"

Draco sighed. "Oh...I don't know. You were this famous person and I was this rich person and we should have gotten on together. Instead, you snubbed me."

Harry's smile faded. "You insulted Hagrid. He was my first real friend. You didn't seem very nice. You reminded me a lot of Dudley."

Draco slapped Harry's shoulder. "Take that back!"

"No! You did! And ever since then, you were just plain nasty to me and my friends for no discernable reason. So naturally I despised you back. You were always so Mister High and Mighty."

"Really? I thought the same about you."

Harry sat up. "When? When did I ever even remotely act like that?"

Draco scooted to a sitting position. "Mister First Year on the Quidditch Team. You were insufferable."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, maybe. But still. It didn't justify all the things-"

"Do we really have to rehash this?"

Harry slumped against the pillows. "No. I suppose not." He reached for Draco's hand across the duvet and wove his fingers with the long white ones.

Draco looked down at their joined hands. "Did you ever suspect it was me in those letters?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. Not once did I ever imagine it. Actually, I refused to even entertain that it was a boy in Slytherin at all."

Draco turned to look at him. "Why?"

Harry suddenly felt his face flush. "Well...I didn't think that...oh it's just rude, isn't it? But I didn't think anyone from Slytherin would have that depth of feeling."

Draco's hand stiffened in Harry's but remained in his grip. "Well! That is rude!"

"I didn't know! Sorry. But you do. Have depth of feeling, I mean. A lot of it. They were great letters. I still read them sometimes."

Draco relaxed again and toyed with their grip with his other hand. Fingers traced along the back of Harry's hand. "That's nice to know. I fell very hard for that innocent voice that just melted off the page. And when I saw that it was you I felt so deceived."

"I know," said Harry, remembering his own feelings.

"But when I got back to my dorm I began thinking about your words and I could instantly see it was you. And for some reason, it didn't bother me as much as I thought it should."

"Really? Blimey, I couldn't get past it."

"I know. But I could picture you in my mind and despite my hating you, I just couldn't lose the notion that you were really a desperately handsome bloke...in spite of all your shortcomings."

"Oh? And what shortcomings would that be?"

"Let's see. How much time do we have?" It was Harry's turn to clout the Slytherin on the shoulder. "Ow. Okay, I just thought that...you know. You're a Halfblood. Your'e a Gryffindor. You're on the opposite of the Dark Lord's side. Funny how all of that doesn't matter a whit anymore."

"Glad to hear it," he murmured.

"And then I just couldn't get you out of my mind. And then I realized that maybe I always treated you badly because I secretly crushed on you and I knew it would never do."

"Possibly. Maybe I did, too."

"You were certainly ready for me on the train."

"I didn't realize until you snogged the daylights out of me how much I wanted you. Talk about repressed. Hermione had a lot to say about it."

"She really is smart, isn't she?"

Harry froze. Did Draco just pay Hermione a compliment? "Uh...yeah. She doesn't hold grudges either."

"It's Weasley I'm worried about."

"Ron will come round."

"I want them to like me." It was so unexpected and spoken in so timid a voice that it touched Harry's heart. He turned to Draco.

"They will. They have. It will take time for them to be your mates, you understand, but I think it's going along all right, don't you?"

Draco smiled warily. "I guess." He raised his eyes to Harry. They seemed glossier and full of emotion. "I love you, Harry. So much."

Harry leaned over and kissed him. "Me, too."

Draco scooted closer and rested his cheek on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, there's...something I've been wondering."

He liked the feel of Draco on his shoulder. He wanted to feel that for a very long time to come. "Yeah?"

"Why is it you...bottom?"

Harry jerked upright, dislodging Draco. His lover straightened and looked at Harry alarmed. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Er...no. It's just...a funny question. Why do you care?"

"Well. It's just…." Draco suddenly reddened before he blurted, "You're this great hero! You killed the most evil wizard to come around in fifty years-maybe ever! And you let me…me-"

Harry clenched Draco's hand and sighed. "I don't know. There's nothing quite like the feeling of having you inside me, pounding away. I just…crave it. Maybe I want someone else in charge for a change. Maybe I don't need to prove anything-" He looked up sharply at Draco. "Not that you do. I didn't mean that. But…I guess we're all made one way or the other, eh? I just prefer to be bottom to your top. It just feels…right…that way."

Draco considered. Quietly, he said, "Maybe I did need to prove something. At first. But I guess you're right in that we're made one way or the other. I never considered the other way."

"But when we did do it that way, it was all right, too."

"Yeah. I just prefer to shag you, I guess."

Harry released Draco's hand to put his arms around his lover's neck. He kissed him and smiled. "I guess we both prefer it that way. Aren't we lucky?"

* * *

Eventually, Harry and Draco got up, bathed, and dressed. When they emerged at last to meander toward the Great Hall, more reporters were waiting for them. Flash bulbs went off and Harry staggered back into Draco. They both cringed as cameras surrounded them and Quick Quills vibrated.

"Harry! Harry! Remember me? Rita Skeeter of the Daily Prophet."

Harry sneered. "How could I forget?"

"And Draco," she said, pushing another reporter out of her way. "You remember me, too, right?"

Draco reddened. Oh, yes. Harry could see he remembered. He had fed Rita Skeeter all the dirt about Hagrid and Hermione and Victor Krum in their fourth year. And Draco had known that she was an unregistered Animagus before Hermione figured it out.

"So Draco," she went. "How does it feel to go from Harry Potter's mortal enemy to boyfriend?"

Draco looked at her aghast. His eyes darted to all the reporters and cameras. Harry guessed that all that Malfoy poise had suddenly run to a corner to hide.

"No comment," said the silken voice behind them. Harry didn't need to look to know it was Lucius Malfoy. "Mr. Malfoy has no comment for the likes of you," he said, searing the crowd with his glare. "May I remind you that this is a school and term is still in session? I would advise you to clear off before our game keeper lets loose one of his more vicious pets."

The reporters exchanged glances. Seemed they remembered Hagrid was a half-giant and was wont to keep strange creatures about his hut. They pushed back and gave the three room to get into the Great Hall.

Draco sighed his relief. "Thanks, Father."

"Think nothing of it, Draco." He looked at Harry and couldn't help adding a sneering, "Potter."

"Mr. Malfoy." He still refused to call him "Professor". And with one month left of term, he wasn't likely to change now. The two of them veered toward the Gryffindor table and Malfoy headed toward the head tables in the front. He sneered over his shoulder at the Gryffindors sliding over to make way for Draco.

They settled in and Harry took some good-natured ribbing from his mates about the reporters.

"I don't mind a bit," said Seamus, scooping a healthy dollop of oatmeal into his bowl. "The more distractions the less class we have."

"But our final tests are very soon," Hermione reminded. "How will we ever review what we need to if our teachers can't concentrate?"

"Don't worry, Hermione," said Seamus. "Just ask Hero Harry to ask the teachers to wipe out the tests and give us all passing marks. They'd do it, too."

Harry scowled at that but said nothing.

"There's an idea, Harry," said Ron.

Draco leaned over. "Weasley, can't you see that Harry hates that kind of talk? I expect it from the potato eater but not from his best friend."

Seamus shot to his feet. "What did you call me, Ferret?"

Draco slowly rose, his hand inching toward his wand.

"Stop it!" said Harry. "Both of you. Sit down. And for God sake, shut up, the lot of you." Harry hunkered over his plate and sawed at his ham. He was damned if he was going to let everyone have at it over him. He'd Stupefy all of them if he had to.

They all fell silent and Draco sat first, ignoring Seamus' side of the table and dug into his own breakfast. Soon the Gryffindors were all eating and the conversation slowly started again.

After breakfast the students reluctantly headed for their classes. The reporters were no where to be seen, much to Harry's relief. But when he got to Charms, his first class of the day and settled in, he noticed something about the rest of the students. They were all staring at him.

"Blimey," muttered Ron beside him. "Harry, have you noticed-"

"Yeah," he whispered back, trying to duck behind his book. "What's the matter with them?"

Hermione gave an impatient huff. "Harry, it's perfectly plain. They are starting to view you as a celebrity."

"What? But they've known me for seven years now. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal?" said Ron. "You bloody well offed Vol-er...Him. In front of everyone. It took a bit out of me too, I can tell you. I almost asked for your autograph on the spot."

Harry sneered at him.

"But it's true. I mean, most of Gryffindor is okay with you. Used to you and all. But this lot." They snuck a peek around the room of whispering students. "You're a bit of a mystery to them."

"For the love of-"

"Good morning, class!" squeaked Flitwick, scuttling in. He settled on his stool in the front of the room and took in all their distracted faces. "Now I know we've all had a hard time concentrating with all the uproar in the last few days-" He paused. It seemed he couldn't seem to control a wide smile and a giggle. "But we must get down to business so you can all finish your N.E.W.T.s. Certainly there are big careers ahead for some of you and you want to make a good impression, eh? But I think to start off the class right, we should bring Harry Potter forward so he can show us some of his more spectacular charms. That is, magic. Of course." Flitwick succumbed to another fit of giggles.

Harry stared at his professor with horror. Not Flitwick, too! "B-but sir!" he ventured.

"Come, come, now, Mr. Potter. Don't be shy."

Harry swept the class with his gaze. Everyone-even people who had seemingly known him well-looked on expectantly and without any expressions of hostility. He swallowed audibly. Slowly, he lifted himself from his seat and edged toward the front of class, clutching his wand tightly. Flitwick gestured for him to stand in front of him and Harry did so, staring at his shoes. "W-what do you want me to do?"

"Oh, anything Harry! Anything that you used on You-Know-Who."

"I didn't use anything special. Um. Just a sticking charm, I guess, and...uh...an Incendio and a-"

"Oh, come on, Harry!" cried Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Show us how you did Him in!"

"Yeah, Harry!" cried another Hufflepuff. "That's what we want to see."

There was a chorus from the other classmates and Harry looked around. His face felt hot with a blush. He turned back toward Ron and Hermione who looked a bit flushed themselves. "Well, it was a little complicated-"

"What's the matter, Potter?" asked a Slytherin. "Don't think we're capable of learning?"

"It's not that. It's just...it was...it was about...love."

The classroom fell silent.

Harry shrugged and turned toward Flitwick. "Sir, I really can't explain it."

Flitwick looked disappointed. But then a spark of something ignited in his eyes. "I think what Mr. Potter is trying to tell us, is that in this particular case with the Dark Lord, there were many complicated emotions and interconnections. Possibly having to do with a connection through your scar?" Harry nodded.

The class gasped.

"Perhaps many don't know this," Flitwick went on, "but young Mr. Potter here was able to feel the Dark Lord's emotions and see visions of him and his actions through that scar. Am I right, Mr. Potter?"

"Er...." Harry supposed since Voldemort was dead and there wasn't likely anyone else communicating through that scar, that it was all right to say. "Um...yeah. He did."

More gasping. But this was worse. Now they were looking at him with those hero-worshipping expressions. "May I sit down, sir?" he rasped.

"Yes, yes of course, Harry."

Harry slunk back to his seat. Ron patted his shoulder and Hermione gave him a reassuring look, but the rest of the class refused to look anywhere but at Harry. He spent it slumping in his seat and hiding behind his hand.

And, as it turned out, his other classes for the day were just as miserable. It seemed that Harry was to be hero-worshipped whether he liked it or not.

Except for Potions. Snape wasn't about to surrender the stage to Harry, except to continue to taunt him.

"Let us see what our Hero has brewed, shall we?" the Potions Master drawled, except that this time, it backfired. Even a few Slytherins frowned at their professor for taunting their hero.

Harry was glad to get back to Draco's room that night. "It was horrible!" he complained, stripping off his school robe. "They wouldn't let up. It was like they never saw me before in their lives."

"You have to expect a certain amount of that sort of thing from now on, Harry."

"From now on? I've had strange people coming up to me all the time since I discovered I was a wizard. But from my schoolmates?"

A knock at the door.

Harry and Draco froze in the middle of undressing. Neither reacted even after the second knock.

"Draco?" It was Lucius Malfoy's voice.

Harry scrambled to grab his clothes from where he'd tossed them and hurriedly buttoned. He hopped toward the wardrobe putting on his shoes and was halfway inside when Draco opened the door.

Malfoy stood in the doorway. His grey eyes caught Harry with one foot in the cupboard. "Mr. Potter. There is no need to hide. I know you...sleep here."

Harry pulled his foot from the wardrobe and stood awkwardly beside it. Draco gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, Harry. I forgot that I'd asked to talk to Father."

Harry, face as hot as could be, stood off to the side. "Shall I...go?"

"As I understand it," said Malfoy, eyeing the room with disdain, "Draco insisted the discussion was about you. So I suppose you should stay. By all means." But by his tone, it sounded more to Harry as if he would rather be bedding down with a hippogriff.

"Yes, Father. It seems that Harry needs a place to live and I've offered him accommodations at Malfoy Manor. With...with your permission, of course."

Malfoy shot a look at Harry. His grey eyes grew colder. "Needs a place to live? I was given to understand that Mr. Potter owned a perfectly good house on Grimauld Place."

It was Draco's turn to stare at Harry. "A house?"

"Yes. One of the Black's old houses. Bequeathed to Mr. Potter from his godfather."

Draco glared, that old schoolboy hatred coming back to his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me that? Giving me some sob story about having no place to live. What are you playing at, Potter?"

"Hey, I'm not playing at anything, Malfoy!" Harry shot back. "I did own Number 12 Grimauld-" and he was a little shocked that he could say it aloud let alone Lucius Malfoy saying it. He supposed with the Order being dissolved that there was no more need for a Secret-Keeper. "But I don't anymore. I gave it to the Order and they decided to give it to Remus Lupin."

"What? You gave a werewolf your home?"

"He's not a-well, he is, but that's not all he is. Blimey, Draco. Haven't you learned anything from all this! It's people like you who make it impossible for him to get decent work, and after all he did for the Order. It was only fitting to give the man a place to live. Do you want him on the streets?"

Draco said nothing, but it was plain to Harry what he would have answered if Remus wasn't a close friend.

Harry folded his arms tightly over his chest. "So there. I didn't lie to you. I don't have a home. And if it's all the same to you, I think maybe it's best that I stay at the Leaky Cauldron until I get a flat of my own."

Draco's taut face collapsed and he looked first at Harry and then his father. "N-no! Wait. Harry. I want you to live with me."

"Maybe that's not a good idea."

"I think you should listen to Mr. Potter," said Malfoy with a smile to his voice. "I do think it is the first intelligent suggestion he has ever made."

"Just stop!" Draco shouted, surprising the both of them. "Father, stop taunting him. And you-" He pointed at Harry. "I want to live with you. And until we find a place together, we'll stay wherever you want. Malfoy Manor, Leaky Cauldron-hell, I'll even stay in Hagrid's hut as long as I can be with you." He approached Harry, still standing stiffly with his arms protectively over his chest. He touched Harry's arm gently. "You still want to live with me, don't you? Remember all the things we talked about? I still want them. Harry?"

He sighed. He was still pretty angry at Draco's pettiness, but when the Slytherin wore that kicked puppy-dog face, it was hard to deny him. He loosened his arms and reached forward to take Draco's hand. "Yeah," he said softly. "I still do."

"Salazar Slytherin preserve us!" hissed Lucius Malfoy.

Draco squeezed Harry's hand tightly when he turned to his father. "Well, Father? Can we stay at the manor, or will you allow your son to take lodgings at the Leaky Cauldron?"

Draco knew his father well. Harry marveled at the changing expressions washing over Lucius Malfoy's face. Clearly, Malfoy saw this as an affront to his name. "Certainly not!" he said at last. "You will come home to the manor as is fitting. And...I suppose...Mr. Potter must accompany you." He fixed his eyes on Harry and a sneer curled his lip. "Welcome to the family, Mr. Potter."


On to Part Two
"At Home with the Malfoys"

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