Draco stumbled into the foyer of Malfoy Manor and knocked over a priceless vase. It crashed to the floor in a million shards.

The crack of Apparation followed and Lucius appeared, wand drawn. He stared at Draco staring at the mess on the floor. Draco was still clutching his shoe.

"Draco? What's wrong? What are you doing here? I thought...I thought...."

"You thought! You thought! What am I doing here? Here, in my own home instead of Harry Potter's bed? Is that what you mean, Father?"

Lucius rocked uneasily on his heels. He lowered his wand.

Draco laughed unpleasantly. "Dear me. You would have been proud just a few short minutes ago. How proud!"

Lucius' surprised look dissolved into a scowl. "You failed, didn't you. You FAILED! A simple task, Draco. You would have won easily. POTTER WANTED YOU!"

"SHUT UP!"

Lucius pulled up short. "What did you say to me?"

"I said SHUT UP!" Draco felt the hot tears course down his face. He tasted their saltiness on his lips. He clutched the errant shoe to his chest even tighter. "Oh I had him where I wanted him, Father. Where you wanted him. Right there. With my bare arse in the air and Potter ready to pound me from behind." He saw Lucius wince and he scrambled right up to him, nose to nose. "Don't like the sound of that, eh? But it was you who sent me. You! Sent your own son to whore himself. And for what?" He drew back enough to straighten his shoulders. He knew his face was wet and probably red, but he didn't care. "Yes, I failed. I failed SPECTACULARLY! I told him. I told him I couldn't go through with it, that it was a plot to get what we wanted. I told him YOU put me up to it. And then I told him I was sorry."

"You-you-!"

"YES! Me, ME! I told him I was sorry. I apologized for YOU!"

"The Dark Lord punished us. PUNISHED US when we failed to keep Potter. Do you remember that?"

"Yes, I remember that! How could I forget! But it was just one more horror YOU brought home to us. When am I ever going to stop listening to YOU?"

Lucius glared at Draco. But something in his eyes had changed. A flicker at first. And then Draco saw the change gradually take over his whole demeanor. Lucius did not physically sag, but something about his bearing seemed to. And Draco saw more. He saw a glint of sympathy and then...shame. It darkened the slate of his eyes to almost coal, and for once, that gaze lowered, like a wand hand surrendering.

Draco was able to walk past him, then, and Lucius didn't try to stop him.

In the morning his father greeted him, and when he passed Draco, he caressed his son's shoulder with a gentle hand. Draco supposed that was a great concession to a man who had lost almost everything, including his sense of purpose.

They spoke no more of it.

But today, two days after Draco had left Harry Potter, Draco was looking at the vault keys in his hand that had only just been delivered by Harry's owl. He stared at them in disbelief. There had to be a trick. Why would Potter-after the humiliation Draco had just put him through-still do this for him?

He looked at the parchment they had been wrapped in. Nothing. Not one word on it.

Lucius entered the library where Draco was standing and looked at his perplexed son curiously. "Draco? Was that Potter's owl?"

"Yes," he said softly, still staring at the keys in his palm.

"What...what is it?"

Draco looked up slowly and proffered his hand. "He got us our keys."

Lucius' eyes rounded. "But...you said-"

"That I bollixed it up? Yeah. I did. But he sent them anyway."

A smile curled Lucius' lips and he took the Gringott's keys from Draco's trembling hand. "Well done. Potter's a fool. A sentimental fool."

For some reason, that statement made Draco incredibly angry. "He's not a sentimental fool. He's not any kind of fool! He's just-" The frustration at not being able to figure out Potter was excruciating. "Who would do something like this!" he lashed out. "What's the matter with him?"

"Draco, my son. That is something that you have never understood about Potter. He's really quite predictable. He has a keen sense of honour almost as much as we have. And that Gryffindor nobility. You said that he had promised to do this for you before he discovered your deception. And to a Gryffindor, a promise is a promise. He is a fool to be ruled by such strictures. A Slytherin would never feel obligated after they discovered they had been deceived. They would plot their revenge instead."

Draco rolled this over in his mind. Yes, he well knew that about Slytherins. He just never thought about how Gryffindors would handle it. It certainly did put them in a weaker position. Anyone could take advantage of them. But to Draco, it didn't seem weak of Harry. It had seemed noble. And honourable.

"Well, you got what you wanted," he said to his father. "I'm going to my room."

Draco trudged up the stairs and found the sanctuary of his room. He stepped out to the terrace and looked out to the rolling hills of their estates. A big place like that could be awfully lonely. And it was. Draco had no friends anymore. If he hadn't played this despicable trick on Harry, they might at least come out of it as friends, not that he had any intention of being Harry Potter's friend. But at least he would have had one person to talk to, write to, be with.

Now there was no one.

The more he wallowed in self-pity, the more sorry he was about what he had done to Potter. The look of utter devastation on his face! He couldn't seem to wipe it from his mind. He'd never seen anyone look so saddened. But wasn't that something Draco had wanted to do to Potter for years? Their game of one-upmanship had escalated in sixth year. And in sixth year, it would have made Draco quite happy. Why now was he feeling like the lowest dung beetle?

Harry hadn't been stuck up. That kept rattling in his head. He hadn't. He had been oblivious, in fact. Barely knew what being a wizard was when Draco encountered him on the train that first day. But Draco could have helped him. He would have explained it. Except he had only really wanted to use Potter, then. Never really wanted to make friends with him. Not like the Weasel had. And wasn't that what Harry had needed the most?

"Bollocks. Could I have possibly messed up my life any more thoroughly?"

At least being Harry Potter's friend would have significantly improved the quality of his life. Now what had he got?

"Keys to a vault." All that Malfoy money. All that cold, Malfoy money.

Before Draco could talk himself out of it, he Disapparated and appeared again at the steps of Number 12.

* * *

Harry wasn't talking to anyone. He hadn't even owled Hermione or Ron. What would he say? He hadn't yet told them he was gay and he didn't much feel like it now. He just wanted to be left alone. He was embarrassed at how weepy he had gotten. He hadn't even been like that when Sirius died or any of the others. But for Malfoy and his stupid plot, he was completely whipped.

The worst part was that he had trusted him. After all these years, all the years of knowing the prat, he had let himself trust him. What an idiot! He deserved this, then, for being such a berk. He gave his heart without a second thought. Hermione would have told him he wore his heart on his sleeve and it turned around and bit him in the arse, all right. He couldn't believe he was actually falling for Malfoy. Stupid, stupid idiot!

He wiped at his eyes again angrily. The crying had to stop. Really. So what if his first sexual experience turned out to be the most humiliating one of his life? He'd get over it. Eventually. If Voldemort hadn't scarred him for life, this wouldn't.

He rubbed at his lightning bolt scar ruefully. Right.

The doorbell. Who the hell was that? Harry thought about ignoring it, but it might be something important. With a sigh, he wiped under his glasses with his fingers again, and trudged downstairs.

When he swung open the door, Malfoy was standing there.

Harry's heart was speared with a hot stab of renewed humiliation and hurt. He could feel himself actually snarl. "What do you want?"

Malfoy was wringing his hands. His brows winged outward, giving his face a look of unnatural vulnerability. He was trembling. Scared, Malfoy? You should be. Harry thumbed his wand in his pocket.

"I...I came to apologize."

"Great. Thanks." Harry started to shut the door on him when Malfoy lunged forward and stopped the door with an outstretched hand.

"Wait! Harry. I really want to apologize. E-e-explain."

"What's there to explain? You're a Malfoy so that makes you a bastard. Explained already." He tried to close the door again but Malfoy was pushing on it.

"I am. I am a bastard. That was really unforgivable. But I'm still asking for you to forgive me."

"You got your keys, yeah? You completely humiliated me. What more do you want? Isn't that enough for any Malfoy?"

"But that was never my intention! I didn't want to humiliate you. I was just trying to-"

"Use me? Well, it worked. You got what you wanted. Now FUCK OFF!" This time he managed to slam the door. He was heading for the stairs when the doorbell rang again. He spun and flung the door open. His wand was aimed at Malfoy's surprised face. "Do you have a death wish?"

Draco shook his head vigorously. "You have every right to hex me. I would have. But I sincerely want you to know-"

"'Sincerely'?" he sneered.

"Yeah. Sincerely. I want you to know that I'm sorry. And that I wish we could have been friends. I wish we could have been friends a long time ago. But we never really understood each other."

"And we do now? This is your idea of friendship? Bugger to that, Malfoy. Oh, that's right. You aren't into buggering, are you."

Draco reddened. Well, at least the git had some kind of emotions!

"I want to make it up to you!"

"Really? Well try this. Don't let me ever, EVER see your face again. Okay?" And he slammed the door.

* * *

Draco stood on Harry's doorstep, panting. That didn't go well. He was sure Harry was going to hex him. But again, he had underestimated the Gryffindor. It wouldn't have been right to their way of thinking to hex someone under those circumstances. That was letting one's emotions get the better of you. And as wild as Harry's emotions seemed to be, he had good control of his sense of right and wrong. If only Draco could understand what that was.

He stood a little longer on the stoop. It wasn't as if Harry was coming back, but a hopeful part of him wondered if he might.

Finally, with shoulders drooping, Draco relented and stumped down the steps. He was about to Apparate home when he decided to take a walk instead.

He walked along the pavement, not really paying attention to where he was. The traffic clamor of the Muggle conveyances were just background noise to his noisier thoughts. But the entrance to a pub caught his attention and he reasoned that he could use a drink. He trudged inside and sat at the bar, ordering a pint. He dug out the Muggle money he had in his pocket and hoped those odd coins were enough. The music blared a little too much and when he finally lifted his head to look around, something seemed a bit odd about the place. Sure there were a lot of men (weren't there always in pubs?) but there was something...something...

"Oh, for the love of Merlin!" He was in a fucking gay pub! He couldn't get away from it. He was about to leave when he looked at his half full pint. He turned grudgingly back toward to bar to at least finish his beer.

A hand came over his shoulders and then a face, bright with a smile. "Hi. You alone?"

Draco shrugged his hand off of him. "Bugger off. I'm not gay."

The man didn't seem affronted and looked at him with a curious expression. "Well, this is a funny place to be if you're not."

"I didn't know it was a gay pub when I came in, all right! I'm just finishing up and then I'm going."

"Right." The man sat on the stool next to him and looked out at the room. "Slim pickings. Thought it was my lucky day when I saw you. I don't mind my saying, but you are a looker."

"Er...thanks."

"You know," he said budging closer to Draco. "You look as if you lost your best friend."

"It's very complicated and I don't want to talk about it."

The man shrugged and started to turn back toward the room when Draco said, "The thing of it is, I think I just...I think I just lost the only friend I was likely to have."

"Ah now. Don't think like that. Plenty of fish in the sea. You look like a bloke who can make loads of friends."

Draco barked a laugh. "Me? I don't think so."

"You can certainly score plenty of boyfriends."

"I'm not gay!"

"Steady on. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Draco drank a long draught and put the empty glass down. His companion bought him another as well as one for himself. "You see," Draco went on, "I was leading him on. Making him think I was gay to get in good with him."

"What?" The man swallowed a mouthful of beer and set it back down on the beer mat. "Get in good?"

"He's very influential. Being associated with his name would have brought my family out of disgrace."

"So you...you...blimey!" The man nudged Draco's shoulder. "Did you...you know."

Draco spun his glass a bit. "Well...we...we snogged. And then we went to his place. And then he...he...." He sighed and shook his head.

"Wait. And you're straight?"

Draco nodded.

"Did you shag?"

"Almost. I just couldn't go through with it. I stopped him from...from...." He whispered the last, "...putting it in."

"Holy shit! You went that far?"

Draco nodded miserably.

"Are you're sure you're not gay, mate?"

"Yes!"

"Well, when you snogged him, how was it?"

"It was disgusting... Well, it wasn't all disgusting. Some of it was nice. Some of it was very nice. He's a good kisser."

"Did it arouse you?"

Draco wriggled on his stool. Boy, this bloke was nosy. "A little. I guess. It's been a long time since I kissed anyone."

"Hang on. You liked it?"

"I didn't like it. Not all of it. Some of it. He was sweet. And gentle. And...fairly sexy."

"Listen mate. If you liked it, then you aren't straight."

"Of course I am!"

"Straight guys do not kiss other guys."

"But I had to-"

"And they certainly don't enjoy it. I think you've got a problem."

"What are you talking about?"

The man leaned on the bar and looked Draco in the eye. "Look. It's all very well that you were playing gay to-as you say, "get in good" with this bloke. But straight boys do not get aroused by kissing a bloke. They do not think it is sweet. And they definitely do not think it is sexy. So I think you need to reconsider your sexual orientation."

Draco stared at him. Muggles! What was wrong with them? "I'm not gay," he said feebly.

The man patted him on the back. "You keep telling yourself that, mate." The man finished his pint and slid from the barstool.

"But I'm not!" Draco protested.

The Muggle waved him off and laughed as he delved into the crowd forming near the dart board. A man in drag replaced him at Draco's side and Draco stared at him.

"Do you think I'm gay?" asked Draco, feeling a little lost.

The drag queen looked him up and down. "Honey, you can be whatever you want with me." He winked a heavily mascaraed eye.

Draco fled and Apparated home at the next opportunity.

* * *

Draco lay on his bed in the manor, twirling his wand in his hand. Try though he might, he couldn't get out of his head what that gay bloke had said to him: Straight boys do not get aroused by kissing a bloke. They do not think it is sweet. And they definitely do not think it is sexy.

But Draco had been disgusted by kissing Harry, right? He'd been sickened by it.

Except.

Maybe it wasn't so much that he was disgusted, but scared. He hadn't really known what to expect. And Potter had been nice about it. He hadn't groped, he hadn't pushed. He'd been...been... He had been sweet, dammit! So what if that bloke thought it was gay of him. What did he know about it? He didn't know Harry. He hadn't kissed him.

The sudden thought of this other bloke kissing Harry ran through his mind and Draco was smitten with an unexpected fit of jealousy. Harry would never kiss a Muggle, he thought, mollifying himself. He stared at his wand again, the wand that Harry had used and that Harry had returned to him. He ran his finger up the stiff wood.

None of that meant that Draco was gay, right? He had just felt a sort of bond with Harry. Yeah, that was it. A bond. Maybe through this very wand.

Draco held it up to the light, watched it gleam off the polished wood. A wand was a very personal thing. And Harry had used this wand for some powerful magic. They shared a special bond through the wand.

The wand chooses the wizard. Those words echoed through Draco's head. He remembered Ollivander telling him that when he first put the hawthorn wand into Draco's hand seven years ago. And it had felt like that. It had felt like a surge of Draco's own magic seeking him out, as if the wand had chosen him amongst so many other witches and wizards, as much as his eagle owl had chosen to be his familiar.

But the wand had also chosen Harry because Harry had been able to take it and use it for his own. So there was obviously something about Harry and Draco that was the same. Certainly they were well-matched. Both Seekers, both excelling in certain subjects, both pretty devious.

Absently, Draco stroked the wand over his lips. But how about Potter being gay. There was no hint of that in school. Except for his interest in Quidditch players, and boyish one's at that. Not that that Chang girl was boyish, but she seemed to be quite competitive, perhaps using her wiles to distract Harry on the pitch. Oh yes, Draco had seen that. At the time he thought it was clever of the bint, but now the thought annoyed him. It wasn't nice using someone like that. He had seen the result firsthand. Harry hadn't deserved that.

The smooth wood of the wand caressed his lips and he thought again of Harry's kisses. No, they hadn't been bad. For a boy, he supposed. Kissing Harry hadn't been entirely gross as he fully expected it to be. Different, certainly. Pansy wasn't a very good kisser, what with all that perfume she wore, her sloppy delivery, and her breasts in the way-

Draco sat up. Hang on. Since when were a girl's breasts in the way? No, no, that's not what he meant. She was just too top heavy. Embracing someone with a strong flat chest was just better than-

What the fuck! NO! It was the fact that it was Pansy. She was annoying as all fuck most of the time. And that face! Pug dogs looked better. But she was Slytherin and Pureblood and well...one had to go with what was familiar. And there just weren't any other girls that seemed to interest him. Except for Ginny Weasley. She was smart, a clever witch, a Pureblood, mannish, and-

Mannish? Well, she was tough as nails and wouldn't put up with anyone's crap. She'd probably be able to cold-cock anyone who got in her way. Like a boy, really. That was sort of appealing-

Draco stared into space, picturing her throwing hexes at the final battle. She was mannish. Is that what Potter saw in her? And he snogged her, too. Was it as good as Draco's kisses? No, of course not. Harry wanted Draco, not her. That thought sent a warm glow to his chest, suffusing it with the most pleasant feeling-

"Oh shit." Kissing Harry. He didn't want anyone else kissing Harry. Not Ginny Weasley, not that bloke from the gay pub. No one. And Draco...Draco...

He noticed suddenly that he was stroking his wand in a most obscene manner and cast it aside, as if it were searing hot. "I am NOT gay!"

He scrambled out of bed and readied himself haphazardly for sleep. He was so out of sorts he couldn't even follow his general routine. Finally, he blew out the candle and climbed into bed. He punched the pillow several times and nestled in, desperately trying not to think of Harry Potter.

After tossing and turning for over an hour, he finally fell asleep, but all he dreamed about was kissing Harry.

Waking himself up, he sat up and looked dazedly around his room. He couldn't even sleep without thinking of that blasted Gryffindor!

He pushed his fingers through sleep-mangled hair. The thing of it was, it felt good to think about Harry. It made him happy. Except that Harry was far from happy with him these days. And Harry...Harry...

Draco sighed. "Harry," he murmured. Okay, okay! He really did like kissing him. Did that make him gay? "God, Draco who are you kidding? Of course it makes you gay! I'm such an idiot! I like kissing Harry Potter!"

His eagle owl swiveled his head to look at him and blinked languidly.

"And I liked...being intimate with him," he whispered. "I did. His hands, his lips, his tongue. He made me feel good. He made me feel wanted. I haven't felt that way in a long, long time. And it isn't just that," he told his owl. "It isn't just because I'm lonely. I mean, people just don't turn gay because they're lonely. I like him. I do." He cast about for his wand and found it on the floor. Holding it seemed to be his last link with Harry. "I want him," he said desperately. "But he hates me. What should I do?"

The owl flapped his wings and lighted on the bed. Draco gazed at his bird and nodded. "Yes. I should send him a letter at the very least."

He climbed out of bed and scooted up to his desk.

Dear Harry,
     I know I'm the last person you'd ever want to hear from, but I have something important to tell you. And I'd really rather tell you in person but I don't want to be hexed. Can I please come over and talk to you? Please?
Draco

Draco tied it up with a red velvet ribbon and gave it to his owl, who was happy to take it. Off it went, and Draco called for a house-elf to bring him his morning tea.

Two cups later the owl returned. A note was tied with string to his leg. Nervously, Draco took it off and read:

Sod off, Malfoy!

Draco lowered it and sighed. "All right. If that's the way you are going to play it." Draco wrote out a series of parchments and gave them in a bundle to the owl. "We'll just see about that, Mr. Potter!"

* * *

Harry was still steaming after receiving Draco's owl. How dare that git! What was his problem? Did he think this would work a second time? What did that cursed family want now?

Harry tried to concentrate on his Auror homework, but couldn't do it and gave it up as a bad job. He found himself staring out the upstairs window, and that's when he noticed the first owl.

It swooped over the housetops and landed on the wrought iron railing of his balcony. It had a large bouquet of flowers in its claws. Harry tentatively opened the French door and the owl hooted at him. Harry looked down at the street to see if anyone noticed an owl in broad daylight, but no one seemed to be paying him any heed.

Tentatively, he took the flowers and the note, and the owl instantly flapped away.

The bouquet was a colourful burst of roses, daisies, and peonies. Harry couldn't resist sniffing them as he unfurled the note.


     I hope you like these. It's just a small token about how I feel. I had time to think about a few things, and I want to speak to you face to face. It's really important.
Draco

"Dammit!" Harry crushed the note and tossed it to the street below. He was about to do the same with the flowers when he stopped. He humpfed to himself. The flowers were nice and there was no reason he couldn't keep them. He wandered downstairs in search of a vase, clutching the flowers in his fist.

An hour later, he heard an owl tapping at his library window. He looked up from his book and frowned. The flowers in a vase almost obscured his view of the window, but he got up and circled the table, staring out the panes for a moment. Relenting, he opened the casement and the owl hopped in and perched on the back of his chair. He took the package and note. He could plainly see that the package was a very large box of Honeyduke's chocolates.


     You were very sweet to me, so the least I could do was offer you something sweet in return.
     Please let me talk to you!
Draco

"Fucking Malfoy!" The crumpled note sailed toward the fireplace. The chocolates almost followed, but he caught the scent of them as he cocked his arm back. Harry really did like chocolate.

He lowered the box and looked at it. A gold octagonal box wrapped in gold ribbon. He slipped off the ribbon and lifted the lid. All his favorites; the gooey ones with caramels and nougat. He waved his wand over it to see if there were any spells and smiled when he found none. At least he'd learned that much in Auror studying. He took one and popped it in his mouth. The creamy chocolate melted on his tongue, sending rapturous delight to his taste buds.

Just because stupid Malfoy sent it didn't mean it had to go to waste.

Later, at dinner (even after half his box of Honeyduke's was consumed) another owl was tapping at his kitchen window. With a sigh, Harry let it in and it almost landed in his soup bowl. He took the note and felt a fleeting disappointment that there was nothing else with it.


     This is just a note to wish you a good-night. I hope your dreams are pleasant and your morning bright. I wish I could be there. I want to be there. I want so desperately to talk to you, to see you, to be with you.
     Won't you please reconsider? Please, please let me talk to you!
Draco

Harry didn't crumple the note or throw it away. He stared at it, puzzled. It seemed sincere, but Malfoy had seemed sincere before. What was he plotting?

Harry had missed the cues before. Malfoy hadn't seemed all that anxious to be with him. Lack of erections aside, he was always nervous, always fidgeting. If Harry wasn't so besotted with the guy, he might have noticed a lot sooner that Malfoy wasn't into him.

But this time? What had changed? What did he want?

He read the note again. It sounded strange. Odd wording for someone who just wanted to apologize. Or was Harry projecting again, reading into it what he wanted to see.

"I want to be there. I want so desperately to talk to you, to see you, to be with you."

That didn't sound like someone who was only trying to apologize.

Harry's heart was hammering. But no. Could he fall for this again? Let Malfoy get under his skin? He had a bad crush on him, it was true, but if he let that rule him he was a goner. Malfoy would surely break his heart again. Could he let himself fall a second time?

Harry finished his dinner, glancing now and again at the unfurled note leaning against the salt shaker. With a heavy sigh and the sense that he was letting himself in for a world of hurt, he pushed himself from the table and entered the library. Sitting down at his parchment, he whistled for Spike.


Malfoy,
     Against my better judgment, I will agree to meet you tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock. Be one second late and I will change my mind.
HP



On to Chapter Four
"The Heart's a Funny Thing"

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"Eyes Wide Shut"

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