Harry Potter lay on his bed at Grimmauld Place, twirling the hawthorn wand in his hand. It had been a month since Voldemort's death, and what a month it'd been!

The first several weeks since it happened, he had stayed at Hogwarts to try to set things right and also to shield himself from the Wizarding world. McGonagall had known they wouldn't leave him alone and offered him sanctuary there. He had been grateful. So much had happened. So much. So many deaths. And after Fred died, he and Ginny seemed to evaporate. She threw herself into helping the healers and was blind to all else. Actually, for Harry, it had been somewhat of a relief. He hadn't known how to tell her it was over between them. Really over. The kiss at Bill and Fleur's wedding had been nice, but it only served to convince Harry that he wasn't cut out for love.

Well, that kind of love anyway.

The Malfoys, too, were offered sanctuary by McGonagall. Word spread that the Manor had been Voldemort's lair and the Wizarding world decided to take their revenge on the Malfoy ancestral home. Part of it was burned before the house-elves could put up the wards. McGonagall, in a gracious move, thought it best they stay on a bit and help with the repairs. They had silently agreed with her. The three of them looked disheveled and decidedly chastened, always staying in a close huddle, working quietly together.

Whenever Harry was near, they stiffened in terror, Draco especially, as if Harry was going to finish them once and for all. As if he would.

But it was at these times that Harry had taken note of Malfoy. When he had started following him around in his sixth year, Harry had noticed him quite a bit; his every nuanced gesture, his expressions. He just hadn't known, he hadn't realized what it had meant.

It was no stretch to testify on the Malfoys' behalf to the Wizengamot. The Malfoys had been shocked. But Harry was steadfast in their defense, which also seemed to baffle his friends. But didn't everyone have enough of Voldemort and bad feelings? Wasn't it time to move on?

Was that really the reason, he asked himself later?

But now, lying on his bed, he had come to the awful conclusion that he might be one of those blokes who preferred boys. Not that it was awful per se. Just awful for him. Because he knew the moment the papers found out, they'd never leave him alone. Not that they were leaving him alone now. He couldn't seem to take a piss without it being front page news. He had blockaded himself at Grimmauld Place, only allowing his closest friends in.

He looked at the wand again, Draco's wand. It had managed a pretty incredible feat; forcing Voldemort to end his own life. It had allowed him the chance to fix his own wand with the Elder wand. And he liked his own wand. The magic in it fit him better. "The wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander had told him all those years ago. And it was true. His wand had chosen him. And this wand had chosen Draco.

He ran his hands over the smooth wood. Draco had done some dastardly things with this wand over the years. But he knew from his spying on the Malfoys through Voldemort's eyes that Draco had never done anything really heinous with it. Not of his own choosing, anyway. He had performed the Cruciatus with it, but Voldemort had forced him. Harry had seen. He had also seen Draco lower this wand when confronted with killing Dumbledore, and he hadn't gone through with it. Couldn't. That went a long way in Harry's eyes.

Draco hadn't given him away to the Death Eaters, either. And Draco had warned him in the Room of Requirement. He could have just Stupefied him. But he hadn't. He prevented Crabbe from outright killing him. There was something inherently good in Draco. He knew there must be. He just wished the prat had manifested it sooner. They could have been friends. They could have been...

Harry shook his head. Just because Harry suddenly liked boys didn't mean Draco was that way. After all, he and Pansy were all over each other at school. The day on the train when Draco stepped on Harry's face, Draco had had his head in her lap, for Merlin's sake.

Still. It was nice to dream.

He stroked Draco's wand again, and then sat up in embarrassment. He simply could not get Freudian with the man's wand! What he had to do was give it back to him. It was a good excuse to see him again, since he and his family had returned to Malfoy Manor. He'd just give it back to him. And maybe talk to him a bit. He probably wasn't gay, but at least he could see him again before he gave up and tried to decide what to do with his life. It was a plan. Of sorts. Not a good one, but a plan.

"Oh hell!" He dropped his head in his hands. He was bloody lonely, and he hoped that maybe if Draco was gay and interested they could go out or something. Especially the "or something" since besides being lonely he was awfully horny. Ron and Hermione had finally hooked up and everyone else seemed to be doing it, too. Except for Harry. Hero of the Wizarding World. The Boy Who Lived Again and Again.

Hermione had been right, though. He was obsessed with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Harry Apparated outside Malfoy Manor. He could see the curse damage that had been done to the building and there had been a day when Harry would have been the first in line to inflict it, but that had been a long time ago.

He walked up the gravel walk right up to the large front door. He looked around and found a bell chain and pulled on it. Though he'd seen the interior through Voldemort's eyes, he'd never seen the outside before.

A house-elf opened the door and its large, round eyes grew even larger and rounder on recognizing Harry. "Y-you is Harry Potter!" it squeaked.

"Um...yeah. Can I-" But as soon as he opened his mouth, the house-elf Disapparated. Harry stood in the doorway feeling like a fool. "Er...h-hello?" He took a step into the large, empty foyer and raised his eyes to all the marble and carved stone. "H-hello?"

Suddenly, there was a loud bang and all three Malfoys Apparated before him. They looked as terrified as the house-elf. He glanced at Draco, who seemed the most terrified. Harry didn't like this look on him at all.

Lucius Malfoy stepped away from the tightly knit pack his wife and son made. "M-Mr. Potter. What an unmitigated pleasure." His nervous manner seemed to belie his words. "Please come in. What may we do for you?"

Lucius led him into a large sitting room that looked more like a library, though many of the bookshelves were stripped of books. Probably all dark magic, Harry imagined. Narcissa and Draco scurried after them, never far from Lucius. The three sat gingerly together on their sofa.

Harry noted that Lucius still had that haggard look about him as if he had just come in from a gale. Life as the Malfoys had certainly not returned to normal.

"Tea?" Lucius inquired. "Something more bracing? A brandy, perhaps?"

"Uh...no thank you."

"Then to what do we owe the pleasure of your company? Not that you need an excuse-" He looked worriedly back at his family, as if the merest faux pas would destroy them. Harry hated that they were so scared.

"Actually, I came to speak to Draco. If that's okay."

Silence. Lucius slowly looked at his son. His expression seemed to convey that this might be the last time he saw him in one piece. "I see," he said, resigned. He took his wife's arm and forcefully pulled her away from the young Slytherin. Draco looked back at his retreating parents imploringly.

"Then we shall leave you two alone," said Malfoy. He made a curt bow with his head, and with Narcissa quietly weeping, left the room and closed the door after them.

Draco wouldn't look up. He sank to the sofa and clutched his hands until the already pale fingers were white. He was trembling.

Harry had no idea he would cause such a panic. He crossed briskly to the fireplace to put some distance between them and sighed. "Jeez, I'm not here to hurt you!"

Draco slowly raised his head. "Y-you're not?"

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! Do you really think I'm here to exact some sort of revenge?"

"Well...yes. Not that you wouldn't have every right to-"

Where was that old Malfoy spark? Even a bit of hatred would be better than this fear. Harry realized Draco looked at him as he used to look at Voldemort. "Malfoy, I'm not Voldemort."

Draco cringed at the name. Harry rushed to sit beside him. Draco jerked back.

"Draco," he said softly, using his given name for the first time. "I'm not here to hurt you. I swear. I only came to return this." He reached into his Muggle jacket and pulled out Draco's wand.

Draco, though, must have only seen Harry pull a wand and he leapt from the divan and nearly fled up the wall. He threw himself against the bookcase, paralyzed.

Harry rose slowly, afraid to scare him more. "Draco...i-it's your wand. I'm giving it back."

Draco stared uncomprehendingly at Harry. His eyes flicked from Harry's face to the proffered wand then back again. Finally, he said hoarsely, "Y-your giving it back? My w-wand?"

"Yeah." Harry urged it on him but Malfoy wouldn't move.

Draco suddenly looked appalled. "But...why?"

"Because it's yours."

"But...you killed the Dark Lord with it."

"Well, technically, I didn't. I never actually used an Unforgivable. He did it to himself, truth be told."

Draco shook his head. "But you still...I mean you-you-"

"Draco, take it. It's yours. I don't need another wand."

"I thought yours was broken."

"I fixed it with...another wand. So it's all right now. I much prefer my own. But er...thanks for letting me use it."

They both well knew that Harry had forcefully taken it from him.

"Why are you really doing this?"

Damned Slytherin. "Because you need a wand and this one is yours. Can't you get that through your head?" Harry urged it on him again and this time, Draco relaxed a bit from the book shelves, lowering his arms to his sides. He stared good and long at the wand in Harry's hand and took a step closer. He reached out with trembling fingers and closed them over the stick of wood. Grasping it, he took possession and just stared at it.

"You didn't have to return it," he whispered. When he looked up, his eyes glittered. "Thank you."

Harry shrugged. "'S'okay." He looked around the room to hide his embarrassment. Now that the deed was done he had little excuse to hang around. He didn't really know what to say to Draco and Draco didn't look much like he was up for conversation.

Draco didn't put the wand away. He seemed reluctant to take it out of his hand. Harry racked his brain to come up with some sort of exchange. "Erm...so, do you plan on returning to Hogwarts to finish up your seventh year?"

Draco looked at him appalled. "Are you kidding?"

Harry wasn't. But he suddenly felt stupid for asking. "Why? What's wrong with that?"

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "Do you have any idea what would happen to me there? I wouldn't survive the first night."

"Oh." Harry had forgotten. Just because he was willing to let bygones be bygones didn't mean anyone else was. "Well, I get to skip it. Seems they've just given me my N.E.W.T.s" He waited for Draco to say something snarky and was a bit disappointed when he didn't. "I guess I'll go into Auror training. Seems they'll take me."

"That's a surprise," came the muttered reply. Harry smiled. That was better.

"Well, yeah. I wasn't that great in school so it's kind of a relief. Besides, I learned a lot of practical things out in the world."

"And aren't we all glad you did."

Harry searched Malfoy's face and decided that his comment was genuine. He smiled. "I never thanked you for not letting on that it was me. You know. When we were captured."

Draco squirmed. "I couldn't tell if it was you. Your face was all puffy."

Harry smiled broader. "Yeah. Right."

Draco licked his lips nervously. "Well I...I never thanked you...for...you know...."

Harry remembered the feel of Draco's arms around him when they flew to safety on Harry's broomstick. There was many a night that Harry wanked to that feeling. "Yeah. No problem."

"I don't actually know why...you...did it."

It had been reflex. Someone-even a villain stuck in a burning room-was worth saving. Anyone would have done it.

"It was the right thing to do. I couldn't very well let you burn to death-"

"Yes you COULD! ANYONE ELSE IN SIMILAR CIRCUMSTANCES WOULD!"

Harry drew back. Draco had finally come to life. His face was red and his arms flailed. He moved away from the book case and paced around the room.

"It's insane!" he went on. "I was there to capture you, to take you to the Dark Lord!"

"You wouldn't have, though."

This seemed to infuriate Draco. "How do you know that! I was scared out of my wits. I would have done anything he told me to!"

"But you didn't. You didn't kill Dumbledore. I saw that. I saw lots of things through Voldemort's eyes while he was at the manor. I saw you."

Draco froze. He stared at Harry. "You saw-"

Suddenly, Harry was uncomfortable under that gaze again. "Yeah. I saw your whole family. Why do you think I testified for all of you?"

"And that's another thing!" Draco was on the move again, pacing, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. "Why do you have to be so damned good about everything! It's not right. It's not-not-oh bugger!" Draco stared down at the carpet.

"Look, Malfoy. I'd really like it if we could be friends from now on. Get past this. What do you think?"

Draco looked as if he was going to explode. Maybe it was too much all at once. Harry backed toward the door.

"Are you toying with me? Because if you are I don't want to play. I really don't. It's all I can do to get up every morning and face the day."

That cut right to Harry's heart. He stepped toward Draco again, longing to take the man in his arms. "I'm not toying with you. I just think we should have done this all along."

"Well I offered you my damned hand seven years ago!"

Harry chuckled softly. "Yeah. After you got done insulting the only friends I ever had. What would you have done?"

Draco considered. His face relaxed. "I guess I would have snubbed you, too."

"But we don't have to do that anymore."

"We don't have anything in common."

"We might find something. There's always Quidditch."

That finally brought a faint smile to Draco's lips. "Yeah. I suppose."

Harry's chest was filling with excitement. "Do you want to get a pint sometime? Leaky Cauldron or something?"

Draco stared at him with disbelief. He shook his head. "I don't...it's not a good idea. Can't you just...leave us alone?"

Harry's spirits fell. "If you change your mind..."

Draco shook his head again.

Harry left the manor somewhat deflated. He thought he was making progress but it all seemed to fall apart again. But he didn't want to give up. He didn't really have any other plans. He was terribly lonely, missing Hedwig and the others who had died. But if he were to convince Draco, he had to owl him.

So that meant that first thing tomorrow, he had to get himself a new owl.

* * *

Draco had exactly one minute to himself after Potter left to contemplate his visit before his parents showed up again.

What was that about? He looked down at the stick of hawthorn in his hand. Potter seemed awfully anxious to be his mate. He felt the wand in his hand and sighed. It was good to have it back. It did belong to him. It had been...nice...of Potter and the noble thing, of course, for the man to give it back. And it felt just a little like Potter's magic. Of course a bit of it would have been imprinted on the wand since Potter had used it for some pretty big things. Potter's magic. He shivered It was still a bit terrifying.

A scrambling at the door and he turned to catch his parents hurrying in. "Draco!" cried his mother. "Are you all right?" She dragged him into an embrace and Lucius stood over them.

"Son," he said in a heartrending voice. "Is Potter...is he...did he...?"

He couldn't imagine what his father might have thought, but in answer he raised his wand. "No. He just returned my wand to me. See?"

Lucius and Narcissa dropped their jaws and stared. "And...that was all?" said his father.

"Yeah. Except...that he says he wants to be my...friend, forgetting the past. It was pretty queer, if you ask me."

Lucius paused and then the most radiant smile he had seen his father wear in years bloomed on his face. "Draco. You might very well be the salvation of this family."

Draco frowned. "He just wants to be 'friends', Father," he said softly. "Whatever that means."

"But don't you see," said Lucius. "Harry Potter is obviously interested in you in more than a platonic sense. You should encourage it."

Draco stared. "What are you talking about?"

Lucius straightened his robe. His gaze rose above Draco's head and he realized his father was no longer talking to him. "Certainly as a Pureblood I was concerned for the continuation of the line. But if you should take up with Potter...well. Things will be different but far better than we could have anticipated."

"What?"

Lucius snapped back to the present and narrowed his eyes at Draco. "Listen, boy. Harry Potter wants you. Give yourself to him. For the sake of the family."

"WHAT???"

"Do stop saying that word," said Narcissa, looking nervous. She was twitchy and didn't look directly at Draco. Pink bloomed on her cheeks.

But Draco's jaw dropped. His mother and father had suddenly become strangers to him. "Are you saying...do you mean to say that you think Harry Potter is a poufter?" They nodded solemnly. "And you want me to-?" They nodded again. "But I'm not gay!"

"That doesn't matter," said Lucius with a wave of his hand, as if deciding against tea, and to go with coffee instead. "Ingratiate yourself. Become his friend. And-if necessary-more than that."

"Do you know what you're saying? You want me to whore myself to Harry Potter for the sake of the Malfoy name? Your straight son?"

Lucius bore down on him. His hair-already in disarray-flew out from his paler than usual face. His eyes had become wilder even than when he first was freed from Azkaban. "That's exactly what I'm saying," he said, voice cold as ice. "Do you have any idea, any idea at all, how we hang from a thread? A thread! The Ministry is watching our every move. They're just waiting for us to slip up and when we do the manor and all our fortunes will be seized forever. Your mother and I will be tossed into Azkaban and you, dear Draco, will be out on the streets. Is that what you want?"

"No," he said in a small voice.

"Then you had best open your mind a bit...and anything else necessary to make Harry Potter happy. His happiness is all that is standing in the way of the Malfoys complete destruction. Do you understand?"

Horror filled his veins with an icy chill. Trembling, Draco slowly nodded. Draco had become the only hope of his family. And that meant becoming the sacrificial ram to Harry Potter's lust.

* * *

Harry got himself to Diagon Alley the next morning and though it hurt his heart to do it, he entered Eeylops Owl Emporium. It was dim inside as one might expect from nocturnal birds. The air was thick and close with floating, downy feathers and the smell of sawdust. He looked around at the many cages on shelves or hanging from the rafters, and the sounds of the snuffling of sleepy birds, but when he turned, he immediately came face to face with a snowy owl in a silver cage.

Harry froze on the spot. He stared at the owl and his eyes and throat began to burn. He hadn't even been able to bury Hedwig properly because there had been no body to recover. Harry himself had seen to that on that horrible, mad ride on the sidecar. Poor Hedwig. He knew she would have understood, though. Harry had grown up with her. He had assumed she'd be with him a long time. But then again, he had assumed that about a lot of dear friends who were no longer with him.

Harry felt a presence beside him and he turned to see the friendly face of Mr. Eeylop. "Mr. Potter," he said quietly. He glanced at the owl cage and smiled sadly. "May I help you, son?"

Harry turned to him. He was one of the few who could really understand how he felt. And Mr. Eeylop had called him "son", not "sir" like he was someone particularly important. "I...I guess I am in need of a...a new owl."

"Yes, of course." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and steered him away from the snowy owl. The man knew that Harry couldn't look at it anymore, certainly couldn't buy another white owl.

"Mr. Potter, I have over here an owl who has been itching for an owner. He's a beautiful tawny owl. Would you like to meet him?"

Harry smiled. "Meet" him? It was as if Eeylop was setting him up on a date. But he did suppose getting a new familiar was a bit like a relationship.

Harry saw the stocky little owl who immediately turned his round head toward Harry and gave out a loud hoot.

Eeylop smiled proudly, as if he was introducing one of his children. "Harry Potter, meet Spike."

Harry grinned. "Spike?"

But the owl scooted to the bars of the cage, looking Harry over, and even reached his beak out. Harry lifted a knuckle and the bird nibbled it gently, hooting again, only softer this time. Harry instantly liked this owl. "Hey, there, Spike. Fancy going home with me?"

The owl fluttered and puffed out its chest, clicking its beak.

"I take that as a 'yes'," said Harry. He smiled at Mr. Eeylop. "I guess we're meant for each other."

"I thought so!" He prepared a package of owl treats "on the house" and took Harry's Galleons with a deep bow. "Thank you for coming in, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Mr. Eeylop. You helped make the experience...much better than I anticipated."

Harry left Diagon Alley and Flooed to Grimmauld Place. Once inside he set the cage by a window and opened it. The owl immediately hopped out and perched on top of the brass enclosure. "So Spike," said Harry sitting at his writing desk. "How would you like taking your first message for me?"

* * *

Dear Malfoy,
     I'm really sorry for upsetting your family like that the other day. You must know I didn't mean anything by it. Crikey, I didn't expect everyone to take it like that!
     So except for some Auror books, things are pretty boring here for me. I'm just trying to stay out of everyone's way, you know. Keep a low profile. But I wondered if you'd reconsidered getting that pint. If the Leaky Cauldron isn't a good idea, why not some Muggle pub? I can give you directions if you like.
     Come on, Malfoy. You must be kind of stir-crazy at the manor, too.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter

Harry rolled up the parchment and attached it to the patient owl's leg. "Okay, Spike. It's all yours."

The owl tossed its head with a haughty hoot, and launched out the window. Harry slouched and finally rested his head on his arms on the sill. He wondered how long it would take Malfoy to reply.

* * *

Apparently, it would take till Doomsday. Draco didn't seem to have any intention of replying.

Harry petted Spike when he returned empty-handed. Absently, he stroked the downy head, staring at the blank parchment on his desk. Spike nudged his hand like a cat, and trilled. Harry smiled at him. It was nice to have a friend again. He knew no owl could ever really replace Hedwig, but Spike was finding his own way to be close to Harry. And one way was to send messages for one's master. Spike hopped down onto the desk and pecked at the parchment.

"I've only just sent it," said Harry. "Well...yesterday."

Spike cocked his head and blinked languidly, first one eye and then the other.

"You think I should write another?"

Spike hooted and rustled his feathers.

"Okay. If you say so." Harry picked up his quill, dipped it in the ink, and then paused. What was he going to say? He was crap at stuff like this. Sure, he could kill an evil wizard but trying to get another wizard to go out with him was another story. Especially if he didn't know if the other wizard was gay.

"'Hey, Malfoy. Fancy a spot of sex?'" Harry pretended to write. No, of course he couldn't write that. Merlin! What if it were intercepted? By The Prophet! He almost put the quill down but Spike pushed his hand with his head. "Steady on, Spike. I'll get to it. Pushy bird."

Harry settled in, dipped the quill again, and started to write.

Hey Malfoy,
     Maybe you didn't get my last letter-Who am I kidding? Of course you got it. I guess you didn't know what to do about it. I mean it. I'm not out to hurt you or your family. This is a new day. A Voldemort-free world. I think it calls for acting in a different way than before. Of taking chances. What do you say? Can a Slytherin and a Gryffindor get along now?
     Meet me at the Hogshead in Hogsmeade. Please?
Harry Potter

Was it a little too desperate? Harry couldn't tell. He decided to send it anyway. Spike was happy to take it. "Don't leave without an answer this time."

He watched the owl fly away and wondered what the reply would be.

* * *

Harry must have fallen asleep. He lifted his head from the parchment-covered desk and looked around. Spike was near him and flapped his wings. Harry noticed a note on his leg. He snatched it off the owl and tossed him some treats.

When he unfurled it, he frowned.

Potter,
     Don't you get it? Do yourself a favour and just leave me alone.
Malfoy

That seemed like a challenge to Harry. He put quill to parchment once more.

Malfoy,
     You are such a git! Get over yourself and meet me at the Hogshead. I mean, what have you got to lose? I'll be there tomorrow at one o'clock. You'd better come. I might leave nasty notes about you on the walls of the loo.
Harry Potter

* * *

Harry fidgeted. He toyed with his pint glass. He flicked the edge of his coaster with a fingernail. He tapped his leg against the table leg.

He snatched another peek at the clock on the wall just as it struck one. Malfoy wasn't going to come. Damn him and his cowardice! Couldn't he just buck it up and do something courageous for once in his l-

Harry sat up. The door creaked open and a pale, pointed face peeked in. Grey eyes spotted Harry and he slunk into the smoky room.

Harry realized he had had his mouth hanging open, and when Draco sat down opposite him, the Slytherin gave a familiar smirk. "Close your mouth, Potter, or the flies will get in." But after he was done speaking, his expression faded as if he suddenly feared retribution.

Harry quickly shifted forward and tried a smirk. "I'm just surprised you had the bollocks to be here."

Draco sneered but said nothing. He looked around. He almost leaned on the table but when he looked it over, he seemed to decide against it.

"I know it's not a place a Malfoy would usually go," said Harry.

Draco's face reflected that fearful expression again. "Well," he said cautiously, "we Malfoys are learning to reassess our values." He seemed to say it with some resentment. He clasped his fingers nervously and sat back in his chair.

Harry shrugged. He was just glad Draco had come. "Want a beer?"

"We're only seventeen, Potter."

"That's of age in the Wizarding world, isn't it?"

Malfoy only lifted a brow. Funny Harry explaining something about the Wizarding world to him.

Aberforth brought over another pint and set it down sloppily before Draco, sloshing some of its contents on the scratched table. Draco only looked at it but never attempted touching it.

Harry looked his fill at Malfoy. He still seemed a little peaked and his hair wasn't as glossy as it usually was, but he was still Malfoy, still Draco. Harry wondered if he had built up fantasy expectations about him, imagining him more handsome than he was, but the reality met and exceeded his fantasies. He guessed it was a given, then, that he was gay. Malfoy looked good enough to eat. Well, to snog anyway, and his tightening trousers attested to that.

"So...um...I've been accepted into the Auror program."

"Yes, you told me last time."

"Oh." Harry tapped his glass. "So what are you doing these days?"

"Staying alive."

"Come on, Malfoy. You must be doing something. Don't you want some sort of a career?"

"I don't know. I never had to contemplate it before."

"Why? Because you thought you and your family would rule the world with Voldemort?"

Draco shot up from his chair, a look of horror on his face.

Harry leapt up, afraid he would run away. "I'm sorry! That was rude of me. I-"

Draco panted, staring at the floor.

This was all wrong. Harry was messing it all up. He glanced back at their table and decided to abandon it. "Look, why don't we take a walk instead. Get some air."

Malfoy nodded. He followed Harry outside, and waited silently with him. Harry motioned to the high street and they began to walk.

Harry was nervous again. How do you tell a bloke you like him if you don't know whether he's gay or not? Especially Malfoy?

"Everything seems to be recovering," said Harry absently, noticing the shops that had opened again since the Death Eaters took over Hogwarts.

"Yes," said Draco quietly.

"Jeez, Malfoy. I'm not used to this meek Draco."

"What do you want me to say?" he retorted angrily. "Call you Scarhead again?"

"Might be better than this mouse you've become."

"I'm no bloody mouse, Potter! I'm just trying to get used to things again, all right! Does that please your high and mightiness?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, actually. It does."

* * *

Draco stared at the man beside him. What the hell was wrong with Potter anyway? Why was he playing this cat and mouse game. Why didn't he just get to the point?

But then, listening to Potter prattle on about this and that, Draco was getting the feeling that Harry didn't know what he was doing. If he were trying to seduce Draco, he wasn't going about it very skillfully.

As much as Draco hated the idea, he was going to have to move things along himself. He swallowed, trying to buck up his courage.

"Say, Potter," he interrupted. Harry turned to him, eyes alight with attention. Merlin, the man was so obvious! He guessed his father was right. "Want to get off the high street? Go somewhere...you know. More secluded? Where we can talk undisturbed?"

Harry was suddenly breathing more rapidly. Got it in one, Draco, he told himself. On the one hand, he was proud of himself, but on the other, the nervousness returned. What Draco had planned would probably get him thoroughly snogged. By a boy. By Potter.

He veered off the street and led Potter to a path in the outlying woods. Dappled by the forest, it was a pleasantly cool, dirt path, shouldered by ferns and shrubs. There was a bench hewn from an oak stump sitting in the path not far ahead. Perfect! Secluded and-Draco supposed-romantic.

"How about here?" he asked. He couldn't believe how remarkably calm his voice was.

Harry sat gingerly on the bench and Draco sat beside him, not too close. With hands on his knees to keep them from trembling, Draco surveyed their surroundings. "I always liked Hogsmeade. I don't suppose I'll ever be welcomed to the Three Broomsticks again, though."

"Madam Rosmerta agreed not to press charges. But no. I don't think so."

"And why did she agree to that?"

"Oh. Well. Because...because...you know-"

"You talked her out of it?"

Harry blushed. It still pleased Draco to make the man uncomfortable.

"I guess I did."

Draco scooted closer. In for a Knut... "And why would you do that?"

"Because it wasn't fair. You were coerced into doing that."

"Maybe I was and maybe I wasn't. You never asked."

"I assumed."

"That's always been your problem, Potter. You assume too much." Draco slid closer.

Harry's upper lip was speckled with sweat. "I was suspicious of you from the start. I assumed you were doing something evil and you were."

"Now that's different," said Draco in as smooth a voice as he could muster. He tried to imagine Harry as a girl as he slid even closer. "You've always known me. You've known me since we were kids."

"Yeah," said Harry breathlessly. "But I have a feeling I don't really know you at all."

"How true. And I have the feeling I don't know the half of it about you." He was as close as he could be without being in Harry's lap. His face was only inches. If you want a kiss you had better come get it, git, because this is as far as I go!

But he needn't have worried. Harry was looking intently at Draco before he slowly leaned forward, swept his eyes closed, and softly, gently, touched his lips to Draco's.

Draco cringed back and shut his eyes, trying to forget the fact that he was kissing a boy. And it worked to a certain extent. Harry's lips were warm and softer than he imagined they would be. But Draco could tell the man was a complete neophyte. His lips were barely opened, and his mouth only just in contact with Draco's. But Draco wasn't about to help him out. He dearly did not want to be doing this.

Harry drew back. His eyes opened lazily and he smiled. "So you are gay," he said softly.

Draco nodded. What was one more lie to add to his many sins?

"I guess you've figured out that I...well. I had in mind being a bit more than friends."

"Yeah. I gathered that."

Harry took Draco's hand. He held it gently, rubbing his thumb back and forth over Draco's knuckles. "What do you think?"

Draco looked down at his hand in Harry's and felt a little sick. He couldn't believe, after all the manipulation, after all he had been forced to do by Voldemort, that his own parents would ask this of him. But even so, a small practical part of him saw the wisdom of it. The Malfoys were sinking fast. The only thing that would save them was a boost from the Boy Who Lived.

He swallowed his gorge, made himself smile, and said, "I think I'd like that...Harry."


On to Chapter Two
"Eyes Wide Shut"

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