""You summoned me, My Lord?"

Draco rolled his eyes. If Pansy had been closer to his desk, he'd have smacked her with the file he was holding. "Sit, Pans. I have a very important job for you."

She folded her arms across her chest, her bright red nails, like daggers, tapping against her arms. "What if I don’t want to?"

"You are required to actually work on occasion. I don't employ you to stand around looking pretty."

"You employ me because you love me. Everyone knows that." Her lips twisted into a familiar smirk.

"Oh, yes. Thank you for reminding me of that unwise business decision." He handed her the file, hoping that for once, she would just do as she was told.

"Ollivander's?"

Draco nodded, pretending this wasn't any different from any other business transaction. "I need you to go and talk to him. It's come to my attention that he's fallen behind with his rent, and if we don't convince him to take on an investor he'll go under."

"And this would be our problem how?"

"I owe the man, Pansy. We both know that."

"Then why not talk to him yourself?" Pansy plopped into the chair across from his desk and waited for an answer she had to know would never come. "The war's over, Draco. Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

"Pansy," Draco warned.

"Fine." She flipped through the file, humming and nodding as she read. They liked to pretend she was only at the firm for personal reasons, but they both knew she was the best they had when it came to convincing clients to do as Draco wished. "I'll talk to him – under one condition."

"How about under the condition I don't sack your pretty arse?"

"Idle threats don't suit you, Draco." She eyed him critically. Never a good thing. "No. My condition is simple. We finish the conversation you so eloquently avoided last night."

"For Merlin's sake, can't we leave my love life out of this? I told you, I have no time for relationships. I have a business to run."

"You won't deny it then?" Pansy swept a stray hair from her face. Draco had learnt over the years that he could gauge her mood by the style. Today it fell in ringlets around her face, which was her nosey busybody mood. "Surely there's someone who interests you? What about that bloke in Muggle investments?"

"Johnson? Oh, please woman. I'd rather shag old Filch than that Neanderthal."

Pansy's nose wrinkled in distaste. "That's... disgusting."

"My point exactly. It's my business if I choose not to waste my time pursuing partners who'll bolt at the first sign of trouble. I'm not easy to put up with, if you recall. Besides, if I was looking for a boyfriend, I could have anyone I wanted."

Pansy's devious laugh never failed to make him smile, even at the worst of times. "Anyone?"

"You doubt me?" Draco leaned back in his plush chair and gave her his most charming smile. "Name one person you think I couldn't pull if I set my mind to it."

"Potter."

"Harry doesn't count." Draco's glare didn't have the effect he'd intended.

"Harry, is it now? When did this happen? Has all this protesting been a plot to cover up some torrid love affair with the Boy Who Lives?"

"Don't be stupid. He's a client, remember? Besides, isn't he still involved with that Weasley bint?"

"They broke up. Honestly, Draco, you really need to do a better job keeping up with the gossip."

"That's what I have you for." Draco winked at her, which was usually enough to make her lose her concentration, but he wasn't quite so lucky this time.

"Yes, well, apparently her needs weren't being met," she continued. "If you know what I mean."

"Which doesn't automatically mean he plays for my team, Pans."

"There's always some truth to the rumour mill, darling. You haven't exactly made a public proclamation of sexual preferences."

"I've never hidden who I am. I doubt very seriously Harry would either." Although, now that he thought about it, the last time he saw Harry, he was in the company of a very attractive man. Perhaps there was more to that than had met the eye. Potter was a client, but more than that, he'd become a bit of an ally over the years. Pursuing him would be nothing short of insane. He had to admit, though, it wasn't the first time the idea had crossed his mind. "On second thought, Pans, I think you're right. I'll handle Ollivander's case myself."

Draco held out his hand and Pansy returned the file to him with a devilish grin. "So you have a plan, do you?" She lounged back in her chair and waited. It was almost amusing.

"Don't you have work to do? Winter will be here before we know it and I'm sure there's an endangered fox out there just dying to donate its fur for the right price."

"Fur is so last year, Draco. Honestly! Now, what are we going—"

"We are going to do nothing. You are going to go back to work so I can get these reports finished. They need to be handed in at the Ministry by end of day."

"Oh, fine." She huffed and pouted like a five year old. It would have been endearing if Draco didn't know her so well. "Old Mrs McHuffin finally kicked the cauldron and left a sizable vault to her idiot of a grandson. I'm sure he'll have no idea what to do with it."

"Excellent. Off you go then. And Pansy?" She paused at the doorway and turned, looking far too innocent. "Remember—"

"I know, I know. Proper records. This is a business not our own personal treasure trove."

Draco made a mental note to check her files before he left for the day.

Harry looked rather frazzled when he opened the door to his London flat. Draco didn't understand why he'd never moved into Grimmauld Place, but still refused to sell it, even though it was worth a small fortune.

"What's wrong now?"

"Does something have to be amiss for me to visit?"

"For you to show up on a Saturday afternoon? Yes."

"Your manners have not improved with age, have they?"

Harry chuckled as he moved from the door and motioned for Draco to enter. It was an old game, but one Draco quite enjoyed. Although, he had to admit it had become more difficult to keep up the snarky pretences over the last few years.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Mr Malfoy?"

"Ah, much better. I'll train you yet, won't I?"

Harry laughed again as he headed for the drinks cabinet. "I'm afraid I'm untrainable. At least that's what Kingsley keeps telling me." He reached into the back of the cabinet and pulled out a vintage bottle of Chateau Margaux and poured two glasses.

Draco followed him to the sofa and took the proffered glass. "You remembered. I'm touched."

"You sent me a case for Christmas last year with a less than polite note about my taste in alcoholic beverages."

Draco offered his glass up in a toast. "Touché, Mr Potter."

"All right, now that the proper pleasantries have been attended to, what's the matter?"

Draco sighed dramatically. "All work and no play makes Harry a dull boy, but if we must get right down to business—" he handed over Ollivander's file, "—I thought you'd want to see this."

Harry sifted through the last five years' worth of Ollivander's balance sheets, all showing escalating costs and decreasing profits. "As you can see, the current market price for that location is considerably higher than what he's paying and his sales have declined steadily over the last decade. The old man still makes the best wands on the market, but that idiot employee he has working for him has absolutely no talent when it comes to customer relations."

"You can't seriously be considering—?"

"No, Harry. I'm not trying to put him out of business. Just the opposite."

Harry cocked his head to the side and studied Draco as he so often did when they met to discuss his various investments, which were far more substantial than even Harry realised. "How much do you need?"

"It would be more prudent of you to ask what my proposal is before offering your Galleons. We've had this discussion before."

"Yes, and I've told you before that you have a much better mind for this stuff than I do, and I trust your instinct."

Draco would never tire of hearing that. "Nevertheless, this is a bit more complicated than our usual transaction." He paused, purely for effect, and took the file from Harry's hand. "It's going to take more than money to fix this mess. The old man has lost the confidence of the people. If Ollivander's is ever to be the wand shop we once knew it to be, it will require more than a fresh paint job and a few adverts in the Daily Prophet."

"Okay. So... what then?"

"A reason for people to go there again. Portkeys are much easier to acquire now. You can pop over to France or Germany to get a wand as easily as you can visit Diagon Alley. What would make you want to visit Ollivander's instead?"

Harry shrugged and took an overly large gulp of wine. Draco fought the urge to scold him. "My parents got their wands there," he answered. "Your parents got their wands there. It's tradition."

"People nowadays need more than that. You know times have changed. What he needs is a new face in the shop to convince people that he's still the best Wandmaker around, to build confidence in the product."

"I'm not sure where I come in—" Harry looked up from his glass, his eyes wide. "Oh, no you don't. I'm not—"

"Oh, come on, Harry. You hate your job—"

"I don't hate my job! Why would you think that?"

"I cornered Weasley last night at the pub – he's far too free with information about your personal life when he's had one too many drinks, by the way. You should really do something about that."

"Wait. Ron told you I hated my job?"

"Well, actually he told a leggy blonde with too much cleavage, but—" Harry cocked an eyebrow and grinned a delectably sinister grin. "Don't look at me like that. Polyjuice, Harry. It's an investor's best friend."

Harry's grin widened. "Okay, let me make sure I have this right. You Polyjuiced yourself into a girl—"

"A very attractive girl."

"Yes. A very attractive girl. Tracked Ron down at the pub—"

"That was the easy part. The man is nothing if not predictable. The same pub every Friday night for how long now? Merlin help us."

"All just to find out if I liked my job?"

"Well... an investor needs all the information he can get before he—"

"You could have just asked."

"Oh." Draco had never considered that option. "Well. Yes, I suppose I could have but... okay. You hate your job, right?"

"Maybe. But the Department is depending on me. I can't just quit on a whim."

"Harry, if you never worked another day in your life you'd still die a very rich man. I've made sure of that. Why waste precious time doing something you hate?"

"What makes you think I'd like working at Ollivander's? Quite honestly the man is two wings short of a Thestral."

Draco wouldn't argue that point, but Harry had a way of endearing himself to nutcases. He had no reason to think Ollivander would be any different. "Because you like people, you like Hogwarts brats, and most importantly, you love magic."

Harry looked at him with that odd expression he often got, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. "Did Ron tell you all of this too?"

"No. I just... it's obvious, isn't it? Everyone knows—"

"No." Harry's smile widened as though he'd just caught Draco cheating at Quidditch. "You're right, but not everyone knows any of that. As a matter of fact, I'd say very few people know all those things. You've been paying more attention than I thought."

Draco wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he didn't. "So you'll do it?"

"It'll take more than my name to bring people back. Have you been in that hovel lately? The shop looks like it might collapse at any minute."

"I'll take care of the repairs and the painting... I suspect we'll even have to expand a bit, but I'll work that out with Ollivander. I was in there last week and his supplies have dwindled to almost nothing. The man hasn't made a new wand in months, maybe longer. It'll be quite an initial investment, but it'll pay off tenfold if we can make it work."

"And where is that initial investment coming from?"

Draco looked away, swirling the wine in his glass. "Let me worry about the money—"

"Draco? What are you not telling me?"

Draco refused to look up. He'd hoped Harry wouldn't ask. "There's a vault at Gringotts earmarked for the next generation of Malfoys. Since I have no intention of ever having a child, Mother has agreed to let me invest it in this. It's the least my family can do, considering past... deeds."

Harry didn't respond and the silence stretched to the point of nausea. When Draco finally looked up Harry's smile was unusually sappy. "You've gone soft, Malfoy."

"I have not—"

"It's a good look on you." Harry stood abruptly and held out his right hand. It wasn't the first time Harry had offered Draco his hand - it was a traditional gesture after any business transaction - but it never failed to make Draco's heart ache just a tiny bit. "I look forward to working with you, Draco. I think this could become a very meaningful partnership."

Draco stood as well, surprised that Harry had agreed so easily. He shook Harry's hand, still not completely sure he was interpreting the situation correctly. "You'll do it then?"

Harry grinned. Resting his left hand on Draco's shoulder, he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "I really do hate my job. I think a change will do me good."

"You did what?" Ron practically choked on his soup as he sputtered.

"I handed in my resignation on Friday," Harry repeated calmly. He'd known his friends would be a bit surprised, so he thought it best to announce it at their weekly dinner and get it over with.

"Oh, Harry. What happened?" Hermione asked with more concern than entirely necessary.

"Nothing, really." Harry shrugged and filled his plate with more potatoes. "Draco came by last weekend with an investment proposition that sounded rather interesting—"

"Mate, you can't just quit. Kingsley will have heart failure."

"Ron, I've never really liked being an Auror anyway. You told Draco that yourself."

"What? I did not!"

"Oh, you did too," Luna hummed as she waved a piece of lettuce over her soup, no doubt to scare away the Gimpmites she'd been warning them about for weeks. "I heard you."

Ron looked at her like she was insane, which was nothing unusual, really. "When?"

"At the pub last Friday night when you were hitting on him," Luna answered.

The entire table stared as Ron did manage to choke on his soup that time. Once he'd composed himself he looked from Harry to Luna and then back again. "Honestly, mate. I knew I was a bit tipsy, but I wasn't that drunk!"

Harry sniggered. He was tempted to let Ron suffer, but decided that might be too much for him to handle. "It's okay, Ron. He was... wait a minute. Luna, how did you know?"

"Oh, the zip on his skirt got caught on his knickers in the loo and I had to help him untangle it. He makes a lovely girl, don't you think, Harry?"

"Well, I didn't actually see him—"

"Would someone please tell me what the hell you're both talking about?" Ron cut in.

"The busty blonde you were talking to at the bar," Luna answered. "I thought you knew it was Draco."

Ron started to turn a bit green, so Harry helpfully explained. "It was Polyjuice, Ron. He wasn't in drag or anything."

"Oh. My. God." Ron turned even greener. "You mean I wanked myself raw over Malfoy?"

The entire table burst into giggles. "Oh, brother of mine," Ginny said between snorts of laughter. "I can't wait for George to hear this one!"

"You wouldn't dare."

Ginny cackled. "Oh, but I so would."

Ron's head fell to the table and he banged it several times against the wood chanting, "I. Hate. Draco. Bloody. Malfoy."

Hermione reached over and patted the top of his head. "It's all right, Ron. We won't judge you," she said with an amused twinkle in her eye.

Harry couldn't help but smile. He loved their Sunday night dinners. They were all so busy lately with work, and their schedules were so frantic, that it was really the only time they could catch up with one another.

"It's well overdue if you ask me," Ginny piped in, giving Harry's hand a squeeze. "You've been wasting away under piles of paperwork for months now. Kingsley's an idiot for taking you off field duty."

Harry couldn't agree more. Although Kingsley did have a point – he was a bit reckless at times. He smiled at Ginny and hoped his appreciation for her support showed in his eyes. He'd worried that their break-up would cause a rift in the group, but their friendship had never faltered. In truth, he thought she was more relieved than he was when they'd finally broken up.

"So what's this investment opportunity?" Hermione asked as she got up from the table and retrieved a large pie from the kitchen. "What's Draco up to now?"

Harry explained the dilemma Ollivander had found himself in and Draco's proposal for helping him. The more he talked about it, the more excited he became. He'd never admitted it, but he'd found the mysteries of wandlore fascinating ever since the end of fourth year. At the time he'd been too busy worrying about Voldemort to give it much thought, and once the war was over he'd been thrust into the Auror training programme before he'd had a chance to think about anything else.

"I think it's a lovely idea," Luna interjected. "I've always thought it sad that the old man never had children to carry on his legacy. Understandably, Draco can relate."

Harry was about to voice his confusion when Ron did it for him. "What do you mean, Luna? Malfoy's nothing like Ollivander."

"Oh, I think he is, don't you see?" Luna flipped her pie over on her plate and began to eat the crust side first. "The Ollivander bloodline has a long and proud history – his descendants were making wands during the time of Merlin – so he has to be devastated that he never had children. The Malfoy line has probably been around just as long, and like Ollivander's, the Malfoy line will die with Draco. It's sad, really."

"How do you know all of this?" Ron stared at Luna with a mixture of disbelief and awe. "Never mind," he added quickly, shaking his head. "I don't even want to know."

Draco fairly growled when the bell on the door jingled. The damn shop hadn't seen a customer in weeks, yet the moment the 'closed for renovation' sign went up, everyone and their pet toad decided they wanted to visit. "We're closed," he yelled, none too friendly, from the back room.

"Malfoy?"

Draco almost lost his concentration, which would have sent the large shelf he was trying to manoeuvre crashing to the ground. Instead, he exhaled a sigh of relief. "Harry! Back here. I could use a bit of help."

Harry swept through the door, his Auror robes swishing around his ankles. As much as Draco was pleased that Harry had agreed to his proposition, he had to admit he would miss seeing the man bedecked in the scarlet attire. Draco was usually more apt to admire a man in an expensive designer robe than in uniform, but Potter looked every bit the hero in those robes.

"What the hell?" Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at the shelf Draco was struggling with. The weight immediately lessened and Draco was able to guide it through the doorway into the outer showroom and place it against one newly painted wall. "Weren't the construction wizards going to do this?" Harry asked.

"Yes, well, it seems they've all come down with Dragon Pox, and seeing as Mr Ollivander is in no shape to be moving shelves around, it fell to me." Harry gaped for a moment, before his lips curved into a smile.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Draco said, exasperated. It seemed every statement out of his mouth amused Potter of late. It was rather annoying. "I've helped Mother redecorate the Manor enough times to know what I'm doing."

"I've no doubt of that, it's just... a surprise to actually see it in action, that's all." Harry deposited his wand into his back pocket and surveyed the shop. "It looks better than I thought it would. There's actually room to turn around now. How does Ollivander like it?"

"To be honest, I don't think he's noticed. He's been holed up in his new workshop in the back." Draco began to levitate the piles of freshly dusted wand boxes onto the new shelf. "The man was as giddy as a schoolgirl when he saw all his new supplies. I think he's made more wands in the last week than in the last year." Harry grinned and gave him a look that could have been interpreted as pride. It was a bit unnerving. "How did Kingsley take your news?"

"He refused my resignation—"

"What?" A stack of boxes fell from midair. Harry laughed as he pulled his wand back out and levitated them up to where they belonged.

"He's granted me an indefinite leave of absence instead. Apparently, the Auror department is happy to have me gone, but they'd like to keep my name." Harry shrugged as if it was unimportant. Draco felt the immediate need to hex Kingsley Shacklebolt, but he bit back the scathing remarks that came to mind. It was Harry's life, after all, not his.

"Does that mean you don't have to finish up your notice?" Draco asked hopefully. He could really use the help getting the place ready to reopen in a few days' time.

Harry shrugged his Auror robes off his shoulders and threw it over the lone decrepit chair that still sat next to the door. "It means, as of this moment, I'm all yours."

"Oh, really?" Draco grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "I think I like the sound of that."

"Prat." Harry laughed and sent the stack of wand boxes on the counter next to Draco tumbling at his head.

With a sweep of his wand, Draco steadied them before they could collapse to the ground. "Mind the merchandise, Potter. Or I'll be forced to take it out of your salary. Now, if you don't mind, we have three more shelves to move."

"Oh, these are comfortable." Harry leaned back into the plush chair and closed his eyes. Truth be told, he was exhausted and could probably take a nap on the floor, never mind a soft, squishy chair.

"Comfortable, but hideous. We're going for comfort and design, Potter. Do try to keep up."

Harry opened his eyes and glared. Not only had he and Draco moved all the new shelves into place and replaced what felt like thousands of wands, but Draco had insisted they go shopping for new chairs to decorate the showroom. If it had been up to Harry, they would have bought the first ones they saw, but Draco had been adamant that they test them all. He'd never sat in so many uncomfortable chairs in his entire life. "Perfectionism is a sign of insanity, you do realise that, don't you?"

Draco waved one hand in the air and grabbed Harry's wrist with the other. "We only have one more shop to visit, and then we can make our decision. You've been less than helpful for the last hour."

"I'm tired," Harry whined as he allowed Draco to drag him from the shop and onto the darkening street. He wasn't usually a whiner, but he felt the situation deserved as much. "And I'm hungry. I missed lunch."

"We both missed lunch." Draco led him down an alley and paused in front of a shop Harry didn't recognise. He'd spent enough time as an Auror that he thought he knew every nook and cranny of Diagon Alley. Draco pushed the door open and Harry's eyes went wide. Behind the tiny, indistinguishable storefront was a shop easily twice the size of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. A man in a shimmering pale blue robe came from nowhere and met them with a smile. He was a good ten years older than Harry and reminded him a bit too much of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Draco, my love!" the man said in what sounded like a fake French accent. "It's been too long. How have you been?"

Draco dropped Harry's wrist and returned the man's embrace with enthusiasm. "Good to see you Louis. It has been too long." The man ignored Harry, which was annoying enough without the Draco-manhandling. Harry wasn't sure why it bothered him, but it did. His exhaustion left in a burst of adrenalin. He straightened his back to bring himself to his full height, an Auror trick that proved extremely effective in most circumstances, and cleared his throat. "Oh," Draco said cheerfully, disentangling himself from the man long enough to turn toward Harry. "Harry, this is Louis Jonathan Trivanti the Third. Louis... Harry Potter."

If the man recognised Harry's name, he didn't show it. "Nice to meet you, Mr Potter," he said smoothly as he held out his hand. Harry returned the weak handshake and decided he really didn't like the man at all. He glanced towards Draco with a questioning look and, it might have been the flickering chandelier above them, but he could have sworn he saw Draco's cheeks flush pink. "What brings you gentlemen in this evening? I was just about to close up shop."

Before Harry had a chance to answer, Draco was rattling on about the shop and his desperate need for classy yet comfortable chairs. Louis oh'd and ah'd as if Draco had just told him his house had burned to the ground. Harry wanted to grip them both by the scruffs of their necks and shake some sense into them. Honestly, the quest for the perfect chair was not a matter of life and death. He would have voiced his opinion, but before he had the chance, Louis was leading Draco through the rows of elegant furniture as if they'd both forgotten he was there. They had almost disappeared around a corner when Draco paused and looked back questioningly. "Coming, Potter?"

Harry came close to saying no, but the way Louis was ogling Draco's arse from behind his back sent an unpleasant tingle up Harry's spine. "Yeah," he answered gruffly, striding quickly to Draco's side. Draco cocked one eyebrow and his lip twitched as if he was trying not to smile. Git.

"Wait here, darling. I have the perfect set of chairs. They just arrived from Italy this morning. I'll have the elf unpack them and bring them right out." And with that the man Disapparated to who knew where.

"Everything all right, Harry? You look a bit—"

"Fine," Harry snapped between gritted teeth. "How do you know—" Harry wanted to say 'that obnoxiously handsome yet clearly evil man' but he settled for, "this place."

Draco laughed as if he could read Harry's thoughts. "Mother has been coming here for ages. Half the furniture in the Manor came from here." Draco laid a hand on Harry's forearm—it was warm and made Harry's entire arm tingle. "Louis can seem pretentious, but he's really not a bad bloke once you get to know him."

"And exactly how well do you know him?" Harry wanted to bite his tongue off. Fuck. He must be more tired than he thought.

The smile that crossed Draco's face looked as though it might split him in half. "Actually," Draco leaned closer to whisper into Harry's ear. "That's why I avoided the shop until now. I knew he'd have what I was looking for, but he's been hitting on me since I was sixteen. It makes me a bit uncomfortable at times." Draco glanced up as if to see if Louis might be lingering around somewhere, watching. "You wouldn't...oh, never mind." Draco started to move away and Harry grabbed the sleeve of his shirt to hold him still.

"Wouldn't what?"

"Well—" Draco glanced down and Harry was sure he really was blushing this time. "If you wouldn't mind... you know... pretending we were a couple." Draco looked up quickly as though he hadn't really meant to say it. "Just until we get out of here," he added quickly. "It might help me to avoid being pawed at like a kitten."

Before Harry had the chance to ask why Draco didn't just tell him to go fuck himself, the obnoxious man reappeared. Draco shot Harry a sideways glance and he couldn't stop himself from moving closer. He rested his hand on the small of Draco's back and gave Louis his practised Auror glare.

Louis looked back and forth between them, his disappointment evident. When his eyes returned to Harry's there was a challenge in the cold stare. Cretin.

"I think you'll be pleased with this one." Louis waved his wand and a tall wooden chair appeared in front of them. The seat cushion was covered in a soft looking material with a forest green pattern. It didn't look exceptionally comfortable to Harry, and the detailed carvings around the back made it look very expensive.

Draco took Harry's hand and nudged him in the direction of the chair. "Try it, Harry."

Harry sat and realised instantly that looks could be very deceiving. "Wow."

Draco grinned. "Yes?"

Louis seemed to forget his disappointment and beamed at Draco, ignoring Harry altogether. "The Italians are the best at cushioning charms. Deceivingly uninviting until you sit, but amazingly comfortable."

Harry nodded his agreement and stood. "Try it. It's perfect."

Draco practically moaned when he sat down. Which was disturbing for Harry in more ways than one. "You're right. It is perfect." Draco stood and threaded his arm around Harry's waist. "We'll take four," he said happily. "Can you have them delivered to Ollivander's first thing tomorrow morning?"

Louis eyed Draco's arm and glared at Harry as if he wanted to recall the offer. Instead, he turned to Draco and nodded. "Should I charge them to your account then, Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes, yes, that will be fine. Thank you for your help, Louis. Now I really must get Harry to dinner. He gets a bit testy when he hasn't eaten." Draco turned to Harry and winked. Harry couldn't help but laugh as Draco took his hand and dragged him through the maze of furniture and onto the street.

Harry felt himself frown when Draco released his hand. "It's a good thing I don't buy fancy furniture," he said, covering his disappointment. "Did you see the glare he gave me?"

"You were giving some pretty good glares yourself, Auror Boy." Draco turned and walked backwards. "Did they teach you intimidation in Auror training or does that just come naturally with the whole Boy Who Lived package?"

"Oh, shut it you." Harry shoved Draco's shoulder and he tripped backwards over a stray rubbish bin. Harry grabbed him around the waist just before he went sprawling onto the street. Draco clung to Harry's biceps trying to regain his footing and Harry held on to him for a split second longer than was entirely necessary, earning himself a curious look. They broke apart and began walking in silence back toward Ollivander's.

"You really are good at the whole hero thing, aren't you?" Draco asked, breaking the stillness.

Harry shrugged, watching his feet as they moved along the stone path. It wasn't something he tried to do, it was just who he was. He'd accepted that by now.

Draco bumped against his shoulder, making Harry look up. Draco was smiling, his eyes dancing with something Harry couldn't quite place. "I believe I owe you dinner." Harry's stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly, making them both laugh. "Ah, not a moment too soon." Draco stopped abruptly in front of Harry's favourite restaurant, holding the door open and motioning for him to enter. It wasn't a fancy place by any means, but it was friendly and comfortable, which was why Harry liked it so much. They also served excellent food, which was a bonus, really.

"Get us a table, Hero. I have to go to the loo."

Harry was about to protest, but Draco turned his back to him and headed to the back of the restaurant. Harry bit his lip as he admired the view. The man didn't look at all like he'd been working in a dusty storage room since dawn. His grey trousers clung perfectly to what Harry imagined was an equally perfect arse. His white shirt must have been charmed to resist dust, because it looked as though it had just been cleaned and pressed. The only indication that he'd been working at all was the cuffs, which were rolled up to his elbows, exposing strong forearms and narrow wrists that begged to be nibbled. His hair, while messier than normal, still fell in silky strands that looked so soft Harry had had a hard time keeping his hands off them most of the day. Harry shook the thoughts away and manoeuvred himself around a crowd just leaving to see if he could find a table.

Draco gripped the sides of the sink and stared into the mirror. He needed to get control of himself before he did something incredibly stupid, like drag Harry into a sultry kiss...or worse. He leaned forward, splashed his face with ice-cold water, and watched as the droplets rolled down his nose. He was an absolute mess.

"Nothing a comb couldn't cure, darling," the mirror said encouragingly. Draco shook his head. He feared little would cure the burning in his chest.

He'd known for a long time that he was physically attracted to Harry, but he'd never dared think that Harry could feel the same way. There was no other way to explain his odd behaviour toward Louis though. He'd been jealous. Draco had seen that look in enough men's eyes to know exactly what it was. Now Draco had only to sort out what to do about it. Did he ignore it and wait for Harry to make the first move—and risk that the normally bold Gryffindor would lose his nerve? Or did he make the first move and risk ruining everything?

Draco looked down at his hands on the sink, at the faint lines that were all that remained of the Dark Mark on the inside of his forearm. He'd caught Harry looking at it earlier at Ollivander's, shortly after he'd rolled up his sleeves. You could really only see it if you knew it was there and knew exactly where to look. Few people paid it any mind of late. Draco suspected most had completely forgotten it was there, but he had no doubt that Harry wasn't one of those people.

"Hey, you okay?"

Draco's eyes met Harry's in the mirror as he appeared over Draco's right shoulder. There was genuine concern there that made Draco feel lightheaded. He nodded and grabbed a nearby towel to wipe his face. "Just tired, that's all." Draco replaced the towel and turned, his hip resting against the sink. Harry didn't move away. "It felt good to do something other than sit behind a desk all day, but I think I'm a bit out of practice."

Harry laughed and nodded his agreement. "A decent meal will help. I hope you don't mind, but I ordered for you. You've been in here for a while."

"Sorry," Draco said, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious. Something in Harry's eyes softened as he grinned.

"Now I'm really starting to worry about you." Harry tugged at Draco's shirtsleeve to pull him away from the sink and pressed one hand to Draco's forehead. "Hmmm," he pondered. "I think it's a mysterious case of Perfectchairitis. We should get you to bed immediately."

It took Draco a split second to process what Harry was saying, and by the time he did, the man was grinning like a loon. "Bastard." Draco tried to sound irritated, but clearly failed.

Harry's grin turned into a boisterous laugh. His hand slipped from Draco's sleeve and strong fingers wrapped around his wrist. "That's more like it. Now come on, I'm hungry," Harry insisted as he dragged Draco toward the door.

"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" Harry asked as he finished the last of his dessert. Dinner had been even more enjoyable than usual. Oddly enough, Harry thought it was the company more than the food.

"Unfortunately, I have to go into the office tomorrow morning to wrap up a few contracts." Draco took a sip of wine and looked almost apologetic. "I thought you could spend some time training with Ollivander."

Harry groaned. They'd talked about it at the shop when they'd spent hours organising wands by wood type, length, quality of motion, and magical core – Draco had an uncanny ability for organisation. Harry had earned himself a smack on the head for suggesting he and Hermione must be distantly related. Regardless of the fact that he knew the training was a necessity, he still wasn't looking forward to it. "The man gives me the creeps," he said finally.

"It's his eyes. The way he looks at you sometimes... it's as though he's looking right into your soul." Draco shuddered, and Harry suspected he was thinking about more than the way Ollivander looked.

"It wasn't your fault, you know." Harry said softly.

Draco glanced up from his plate and Harry caught a faint glimpse of guilt. "I'd rather not talk about that—"

"There was nothing you could have done, Draco. You were seventeen—"

"That doesn't carry a lot of weight considering what you did when you were seventeen." For a moment, Draco reminded Harry of the boy he'd known at Hogwarts – the cold eyes, the glacial tone, the set jaw – but then he seemed to deflate right before Harry's eyes. "You would have done something," Draco finished quietly.

Harry couldn't argue that point, because Draco was right. And he probably would have died in the process. For some reason the thought of Draco doing something as foolish as he would have made Harry's gut ache. He lifted his hand from his lap and laid it atop Draco's on the table. "You had more to lose than I did. I didn't understand that then, but I do now." Harry shrugged, wondering why he felt the need to bring up bad memories when they'd had such a lovely day. "I just thought you should know that."

Draco studied his face for a long time before glancing down at their hands on the table. Harry felt a bit silly for the gesture now, but he couldn't seem to take his hand away.

"I have a confession to make," Draco said after what seemed like an eternity.

There was a mischievous glint in Draco's eye that made warmth pool in the pit of Harry's stomach. "Should I be concerned?"

Draco shook his head and grinned. "No. But you might be a bit angry." Harry raised his eyebrows and waited. "Louis hasn't really been hitting on me since I was sixteen. He does tend to maul me, but... that's all, really."

Harry felt his eyebrows crinkle in confusion. That wasn't at all what he'd been expecting. "Why did you...?"

Draco shrugged, but didn't look the least bit ashamed. "I wanted to see if you were homophobic."

Harry stared at their hands on the table. "That'd be a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, I reckon."

"So the rumours are true?"

He might have been imagining it, but Draco sounded almost hopeful. "I've never denied them," he answered.

"You've never confirmed them, either."

"Neither have you," Harry countered, knowing there was an unspoken challenge in his tone.

Draco opened his mouth, probably to argue, but closed it quickly. "You have a point."

"You know, Draco, if you want to know something, sometimes it really is best to be straightforward and just ask."

"Straightforward isn't exactly my natural disposition."

"Really?" Harry lifted his hand from Draco's, as much as he didn't want to, and pressed his palm against his heart, pretending to be shocked. "I would have never guessed."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you." Draco glared, but the corners of his lips lifted to form a beautiful smile. The only thing Harry could do was smile back.

Draco's robes felt too warm as he walked toward Ollivander's under the late August sun. He'd gone into the office early and had managed to complete all his necessary business before Pansy had made an appearance. For some reason, he wasn't at all interested in fielding her stream of nosey questions. And, he had to admit, he was anxious to get to the shop to see how Harry was faring. He felt a bit guilty for leaving the man to fend for himself, which was completely ridiculous. This was Harry Potter, after all. If Draco had learned anything since Hogwarts, it was that Potter could do anything he set his mind to.

The bell to the shop jingled as Draco opened the door. He shrugged out of his office robes and hung them neatly on the coat rack beside the door. The new chairs had been delivered and looked fabulous where they sat against the pale green walls. Draco couldn't help but smile when he wondered if Louis had accompanied the delivery.

"Hello!" he called out as he walked behind the counter toward the back room, which would serve as both an office and storage area. Draco frowned when he found it empty. He glanced toward the door that led to Ollivander's workshop. Surely Harry wasn't in there. Ollivander had barely allowed Draco to set foot in the room when he was working. He knocked anyway, hoping perhaps the old man would know where Harry had disappeared to.

When the door opened, Draco was surprised to see Harry smiling back at him. "Draco! We didn't expect you until after lunch."

Draco arched a curious brow. "We?" he asked, peering into the dimly lit room.

Harry moved to the side and beckoned Draco through the door. "Mr Ollivander was explaining the noble art of wandmaking." Harry looked like a kid in a sweet shop.

Draco couldn't decide if he should be pleased or irritated. "Oh, was he now?"

"It's fascinating!" Harry replied excitedly. "I'd never imagined how many different combinations could be created – how many types of wood and the variety of magical cores. Really, Draco, it's amazing."

The pure joy on Harry's face made Draco's decision for him. The fact that Ollivander wouldn't let Draco near him when he was working didn't mean he had to be annoyed that the man seemed more than happy to share his secrets with Harry. "I take it you feel comfortable enough with the information to be able to sell them tomorrow?" Harry beamed with pride. Draco took that as a yes. "Excellent. We should leave Mr Ollivander to his work, then. I could really use some help with the display window."

Harry thanked Ollivander for his time and followed Draco through the door. "He's really not as barmy as he pretends to be. He's actually rather articulate for a man his age. How old is he, anyway?"

Draco shrugged. "Ninety, maybe? Possibly older. The man's been around forever." He headed towards the showroom, but Harry's hand on his arm stopped him. When he turned around, Harry was gnawing at his bottom lip. "What?" Draco asked, concerned.

"Nothing, I just... thanks for this." Harry waved his hands in no general direction. "If it weren't for you I'd be... I don't know, wasting away under piles of paperwork, as Ginny put it."

"Don't get all sappy on me, Potter. We still have to make it work." Draco tried to brush off Harry's words, but he couldn't stop the warmth they'd caused to spread throughout his entire body. Harry didn't help matters when he reached out and took Draco's hand.

"We will," he promised.

Draco squeezed his hand gently and nodded. For the first time since he'd concocted this crazy plan, he was completely confident that it would be successful. It was an intoxicating feeling. Or maybe the intoxication came from standing so close to Harry, or the way Harry was rubbing tiny circles into the palm of his hand. He couldn't be sure. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you missed me this morning."

"Maybe I did," Harry answered, never taking his eyes off Draco's. "We should celebrate tonight. Champagne, roses and caviar. What do you say?"

Draco wanted to say yes. He wanted to scream it, as a matter of fact, but they still had a lot of work to get done before their grand re-opening in less than twenty-four hours. "You don't like caviar," he said instead.

Harry grinned as if that was a yes. "But you do, and you deserve it."

Draco stared at Harry as if they'd just met. And maybe, in a way, they had, because he'd never seen this side of Harry before. He wondered how many people had. The irrational side of him hoped there hadn't been many.

"Okay." Draco's smile came so easily he was beginning to wonder if someone hadn't slipped him a Happiness Potion. "We have to get the front display window done first, though. And the counter display. And I have to get the advert to the Daily Prophet and change the sign out front, and—" Draco's words were halted by Harry's lips. Soft, gentle, warm lips. Draco's heartbeat tripled, and for a moment he just stood there, dumbfounded, until he realised Harry was starting to pull away. He clutched at Harry's waist to try to stop him, but it only managed to hold his body in place, not his lips.

"You're dead sexy when you prattle on, you know that?" Harry's eyes were mere inches away, his breath tickling Draco's freshly wet lips, and Draco found he couldn't speak if he'd wanted to. Lucky for him, he really didn't want to. He moved his hand from Harry's waist to thread his fingers into messy hair and tug. Harry met him halfway, and this time the kiss wasn't soft or gentle. It seemed years of pent-up energy was released all at once. Harry's hands moved to Draco's waist, one hand travelling to the small of Draco's back to pull their bodies flush together. It was all Draco could do to keep from moaning at the sensation. Harry's hands roamed up and down his back and Draco's own hand was clutching Harry's arse before he'd even realised it. Not that he was about to move it, because fuck, he'd fantasised about that arse more times than he could count.

"Hello?"

Harry pulled away and Draco wanted to scream. Instead, he let his head fall to Harry's shoulder and growled.

"We should probably... find out who that is," Harry said hoarsely, but didn't move his hands from Draco's back.

"Maybe they'll go away."

"And take your new chairs with them?" Harry's tone was lightly amused, and when Draco looked up at him, he seemed to be fighting off a laugh.

"I'll trade those chairs for ten more minutes of this any day," Draco answered honestly.

"Harry, you back there?" the voice came again, and this time Draco recognised it. Apparently, Harry did too because he chuckled.

"Be right there, Ron," he yelled, giving Draco an apologetic look. He brushed his thumb along Draco's cheek and tucked a stray hair behind his ear in an affectionate gesture that made Draco want to scream more. "Can we finish this later?"

Draco stepped back reluctantly and nodded. Harry's hair was a tousled mess, his lips wet and blood red. There would be no mistaking what he'd been doing. "Go ahead. I'll just... pretend to be busy."

Harry huffed out a laugh and tugged on Draco's sleeve, as he seemed so apt to do of late. "Oh, no you don't. If I have to go out there looking like I've just been shagged senseless, I'm not doing it alone."

Draco sort of got stuck on the 'shagged senseless' bit and before he knew it he was being dragged into the front room.

"There you... are." Ron looked Harry up and down before doing the same to Draco. Draco willed himself not to blush at the scrutiny. From the looks of it, Harry was trying to do the same thing and failing miserably. "Er..." Ron turned to Harry, looking surprisingly calm. "I came by to see if you wanted to go to lunch."

"Actually, Weasley, we were—"

"Just about to order take-away," Harry interrupted. "We have a lot we still have to get done for tomorrow."

"Yeah, I suppose you do." Weasley looked from Draco to Harry and nodded. "Kingsley sends his best, Harry. And Smith and Barton are both planning to bring their kids round to get their wands tomorrow before they start at Hogwarts next week."

"Really?"

Weasley shrugged. "I've been talking it up a bit. Couldn't let my best mate fall flat on his face his first day, now could I?"

Harry's face lit up with surprise. "Wow. Thanks, Ron."

"Don't mention it," Weasley said, waving his hand as if it wasn't important. From the look on Harry's face, it was extremely important. "I'll be seeing you," he added as he reached for the door.

"Hey, Weasley," Draco called out before he could escape. Weasley turned, his expression guarded. "Thanks."

Weasley's lip twitched up into a half-grin and he turned his attention to Harry. "I still say he looked better as a girl."

Harry barked out a laugh as Weasley pulled the door open and waved goodbye. "For the record," Harry said more seriously, slipping his arms back around Draco's waist. "I totally disagree."

"You've never seen me as a girl. You might like it."

Harry shook his head emphatically. "I like you just the way you are. Now where were we?"

All the urgency from their earlier kiss seemed to have diminished. Draco suddenly felt they had all the time in the world. Time for kisses, time for sex, time for things Draco had never considered with anyone else – cold nights curled up by the fire, quiet dinners at home, friendly chess games. For Merlin's sake, Harry had turned him into a Hufflepuff.

"Hey. You okay?"

Draco nodded. He didn't think he'd ever been better, but there was still work to be done. Celebrating could come after. "I need to get that advert to the Prophet before two o'clock." Draco wasn't prepared for Harry's palpable disappointment. He leaned forward and gave Harry a slow but chaste kiss. "Rain check for later?" he asked hopefully.

"I always knew you'd be a tease," Harry answered, nudging Draco away. "Well, off you go then. The clock is ticking."

Draco reluctantly pulled away. "Do you want me to pick up lunch on my way back? Can't have you wasting away to nothing, now can we?"

"That'd be brilliant. I suspect we'll both need our energy later." Harry waggled his eyebrows and Draco smacked him on the arm.

"I always knew you'd have a one-track mind."

Harry had just finished adding a few of Ollivander's new wands to the front window when he saw Draco strolling down the street with their lunch. It had taken a lot longer than Harry had expected and he was famished. Draco paused to admire the display and smiled as he met Harry's eyes through the window.

"It looks perfect!" he said as soon as he walked through the door. "I hadn't realised the new boxes I'd ordered had come in."

"They arrived this morning just after the chairs," Harry explained, taking the steaming take-away boxes from Draco's hands. "There's about twenty more in the back if we need them. Some of these old boxes could probably be replaced. A few are faded beyond repair."

Draco waved him away. "Later. Let's eat. I'm starving."

Harry carried the boxes to the back room, sat them on the desk, and went back to the showroom to grab an extra chair. "You must be. There's enough food here to feed an army," he called out.

"Mm," Draco mumbled when he returned, his mouth already full of food. "That one's for Ollivander. The man loves Pad Thai. Who would have guessed?"

Harry took a moment to appreciate Draco's thoughtfulness. Who would have guessed, indeed. Harry knocked on the door that led to Ollivander's workshop, but didn't get an answer. "Do you think he's left?"

"If it's locked, it means he's working and 'doesn't want to be disturbed.' Here—" Draco waved his wand and the box disappeared. Moments later a note, with a simple thank you, appeared where the box had been. Draco laid his wand down beside the note and dipped in for another bite of noodles. "He's a finicky old codger."

Harry picked up Draco's wand and studied it for a moment. It was hawthorn, but looked a bit longer than his old one. Harry twirled it in his fingers as he ate. "Is the core the same?" he asked curiously.

Draco shook his head. "Promise not to laugh?" Harry nodded. "Hippogriff feather." Harry couldn't help but snigger. Draco snatched his wand away and smacked Harry on the side of the head with it. "You promised."

"Sorry." Harry tried to stop laughing, but the irony was so very perfect. "Actually," he said after he'd calmed down. "It makes perfect sense."

Draco arched a single eyebrow. "How do you figure?"

"Well—" Harry took a bite of his Satay gai and eyed Draco critically. "They're extremely proud and can be dangerously ornery if not treated with respect—" Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yet they're fiercely loyal and protective to those they care about."

Draco cocked his head to one side as if he was measuring the merit of Harry's words. "I think you might have this whole 'match a wand to the wizard' thing down quite nicely." He reached around Harry and tugged the wand from his back pocket. "Phoenix feather, right?" Harry nodded. The inference was rather obvious. "Hm," Draco pondered. "Interesting."

"What?"

"That my first wand would have the core of a Unicorn hair. I guess that's what I get for letting Mother pick it out for me."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Unicorns are strong and beautiful creatures." Harry reached out to brush a strand of silky white hair from Draco's cheek and thought it very appropriate.

Draco turned his face and brushed his lips against the palm of Harry's hand. "You're a sap, you know that?"

Harry simply grinned, because there was obviously no arguing the point.

Draco was absolutely not nervous. He bit his lower lip and stared at the front door to Harry's flat. They'd finished up at the shop earlier than expected and Harry had insisted he come round later to celebrate their progress and toast to their success. Judging by the predatory look on Harry's face when he'd extended the invite, though, he had more than celebrating on his mind. Or perhaps just a celebration of a different sort. The thought shouldn't make Draco's palms sweat, but it did.

The door opened before he'd had the chance to ring the bell. "Are you trying to decide whether or not to change your mind?" Harry stood in the doorway looking as though he'd just walked out of a Witch's Weekly centrefold. His hair was damp and tousled and his jeans clung to all the right places, accentuated by the tails of his half-unbuttoned shirt. He looked—"

"Draco?"

"Bloody fucking hell, Harry," Draco mumbled.

Harry laughed, his relief obvious, and reached out to pull Draco over the threshold. As soon as the door was closed behind him, Draco was pressed against the wall, Harry's lips brushing the shell of his ear. "You're late," Harry whispered. "I had to take a cold shower just to keep from wanking myself raw."

The thought of Harry wanking both excited and irritated him, which made absolutely no sense. But then again, nothing concerning Potter had ever made sense. Harry pressed himself closer until Draco could feel what he'd had a mere glimpse of before he was dragged through the door. Draco had planned for more of a romantic build-up, but they'd had verbal foreplay all afternoon and he decided the champagne and caviar could wait.

He turned his head until his lips brushed Harry's and that was all the invitation Potter needed. Gryffindor that he was, he growled and attacked like a lion. Draco would have cursed himself for wearing traditional robes except for the fact that Harry seemed perfectly capable of undoing buttons and kissing at the same time. Draco smoothed his hands over Harry's chest, enjoying the feel of the hard muscles against his palms.

"Bed?" Draco murmured against Harry's lips.

"Too far," Harry mumbled back, releasing Draco's robe only when the buttons were undone enough that he could push it off Draco's shoulders. He let it fall and pool around his ankles. Harry pulled away slightly, his eyes roaming down Draco's torso to settle on the unmistakable bulge in his satin pants. "You really are fucking beautiful, you know that?"

Draco tried to think of a snarky response, but whatever words were forming in his head disappeared when Harry fell to his knees and pressed a hot, opened-mouth kiss to Draco's cock. He was completely unprepared for how sexy that would look.

Even through his pants he could feel the heat and wetness. All he could manage was, "fuck," as he twined his hands into the mass of dark hair and tried desperately not to buck against Harry's face. Harry reached for the elastic band around his waist and looked up as if asking permission. Their eyes met and Draco feared he might come right then. Luckily Harry understood the look as the yespleasefuckingyes that it was and pulled the band away. He caught Draco's bobbing cock in his mouth with the same enthusiasm he'd always given to catching the Snitch.

"Fuck." Draco's head rolled backwards and banged against the wall with a loud thud. His whole body overheated suddenly and he felt lightheaded, as though he'd had far too much Firewhisky. Harry's lips were like brands around his cock – hot and wet, with the perfect amount of pressure and suction. Draco tried to hold off his orgasm, because he didn't want the pleasure to be over so soon, but there was nothing to be done for it. He opened his mouth to warn Harry but, at that moment, Harry sucked him in all the way, the tip of his cock hitting the back of Harry's throat, and all Draco could do was keen as his orgasm flowed through him.

"Fuck," he repeated after catching his breath. He lifted his head from the wall and looked down where Harry was smirking up at him. The smile that spread across his lips was probably ridiculous, but he couldn't be bothered to care. He combed his fingers through Harry's hair and tugged lightly. Harry stood, placing his hands against the wall on either side of Draco's head.

"Bed now?" Draco asked, unthreading one hand from Harry's hair to reach between them to brush it along the bulging outline in Harry's jeans. Harry arched forward, pressing his lips to Draco's more gently this time for a slow, languid kiss. Draco felt an unusual warmth spread through his chest.

"Soon," Harry answered after some time. Draco had no idea where the bed was, and now that the urgent need to have Harry touch him had subsided, he felt rather idiotic standing in Harry's hallway with his pants around his thighs and his robes pooled atop his shoes. He bit his lip to keep from laughing, because, judging by the look in his eyes, Harry's urgent need hadn't lessened.

Draco toed his shoes off and stepped out of his robes, hopping a bit to get his socks off. He unbuttoned the waistband of Harry's jeans, and slipped the zip down slowly, never taking his eyes off Harry's. "What should we do about this?" he asked, teasing Harry by running his fingers lightly along the zip, barely brushing Harry's bulging cock. Harry whimpered softly as he pressed forward for more friction. His hands moved from the wall to thread gently into Draco's hair and his lips found Draco's again, still gentle, but needy.

The question wasn't entirely rhetorical. There were numerous possibilities and Draco found he wanted to do them all. There was no doubt he wanted to fuck Harry Potter, or that he wanted Harry to fuck him, for that matter. But he also wanted very much to wrap his lips around Harry's cock and taste the come on his tongue. He wanted to watch as the tremor of orgasm pelted through Harry's body and see the look on his face as he came. But most disturbing of all, Draco wanted to fall asleep next to him, exhausted from said activities, and wake up in his arms. Draco was quite sure he'd never had that thought before while holding a man's cock in his hand.

Harry must have sensed Draco's indecision, because he pulled away and stared at him for a moment before making the decision himself. He shoved his jeans down to his thighs to give Draco better access, and then covered Draco's hand, twining their fingers around his cock. The depth of emotion, the vulnerability, the sheer pleasure in Harry's eyes was almost too much to look at, but Draco couldn't have taken his eyes away if the house had caught on fire. It only took a few strong strokes before Harry's eyelids fluttered shut and both their hands were painted white. Harry's head fell forward and he rested against Draco as if his knees might buckle at any moment.

"Bed now," Harry whispered. One hand snaked around Draco's back just as he felt the spin of Apparation.

Draco turned a corner and stopped so quickly Harry almost bowled him over. "What the—" Harry paused when he looked up to see what Draco was staring at. There was at least half an hour before the shop was scheduled to open, but several groups of people were already mingling outside the doors. Harry recognised a few of them from the Ministry.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Draco asked, still gazing in the direction of the shop.

Harry wanted to say no, but the way he felt this morning, he was pretty sure he could handle anything. "Ollivander will be there if I need him." Harry reached out and threaded his fingers together with Draco's. "And you'll be there, so I'll be fine."

Draco cocked his head and gave Harry a sardonic look. "I'm simply here to protect my investment."

"And hex anyone who molests your new chairs?"

"Of course." Draco sniffed arrogantly and brushed a stray hair from Harry's shoulder. "Or quite possibly anyone who touches you."

Harry suddenly felt infused with heat. He had awoken this morning thinking last night had been a champagne induced dream, only to find his face buried in blond hair and his limbs draped over a beautifully naked Draco. They had very nearly not made it out of his flat at all this morning, especially after Harry had discovered how deliciously slippery Draco was all soaped up in the shower.

"Head out of the clouds, Wonder Boy." Harry felt heat creeping up his neck. Draco smirked. "And the gutter, if you don't mind. You have a job to do, and if you perform adequately I may reward you later."

Harry didn't need any encouragement to do his best – he'd actually been looking forward to it – but he didn't feel compelled to share that with Draco. "Is that a promise?"

Draco smirked again, his lips brushing Harry's in a soft kiss. "Absolutely."

Harry fell into a chair near the counter as Draco shooed the last customer out the door and locked it behind them.

"Merlin, I thought they'd never leave." Draco waved his wand to shutter the window then collapsed into a chair next to Harry's, his head falling back against the ornate woodcarvings. They sat in silence for a moment to catch their breath. They must have sold a hundred wands in the last ten hours. Thankfully, Ollivander had come out of hiding long enough to help them through the busiest parts of the day, but it had still been complete chaos.

"Well, it appears your investment is safe," Harry said after some time.

Draco turned to face Harry, his head still resting against the back of the chair. He looked even more exhausted than Harry felt. "You did well, Harry," he said finally, his lips curving up into a soft smile. "You and Ollivander make one hell of a team."

Harry silently agreed. "I believe that means you owe me a reward."

Draco's smile widened and turned downright devious. "I do believe you are correct," Draco purred as he stood up and stretched like a minx. He stood before Harry, legs slightly parted and hands resting lightly on his hips. "And what is it that you would like for your reward, Mr Potter?"

Harry reached out and pulled Draco onto his lap. "I think you can sort that out on your own, can't you, Mr Malfoy?" Draco grinned mischievously and bucked forward, their cocks rubbing through the thick material of their trousers. Yes, Harry definitely wanted that, but there was something he wanted more. He reached up to thread his fingers into Draco's silky hair and pulled him down for a sensuous kiss. He could feel Draco's heartbeat quicken against his chest, feel the man's chest rise and fall with every breath, feel the taut arse tighten against his thighs as he moved in a slow rocking motion. Harry had been certain it could never be better than the previous night, but Draco was quickly proving him very wrong.

"Amazing things, wands. Don't you think, boys?"

Draco stilled immediately and buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck. Harry looked up to see Ollivander standing in the doorway to the office. In the dim light, it was hard to be sure, but Harry thought he might be smirking.

Ollivander walked around them to grab his robe from the coat rack by the door. "I think you'll often find they know more about a wizard than the wizard knows about himself." Harry thought about his wand, about how comfortable Draco's wand had once felt in his hand, and wondered how much more he'd be able to learn from the old man. "I'll leave you now to the joys of youth," he said, and Disapparated before Harry had the chance to respond.

When Draco looked up, his cheeks were infused with colour. Harry was sure it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

The Phoenix and Hippogriff feather mobile fluttered above the crib as Harry stared down at the sleeping baby. It had been an early birthday gift from the boy's aging Godfather. "Come on Ollie," Harry whispered as he nudged the child from his slumber. "Your admirers will be here soon and you're in dire need of a nappy change."

"I wish you wouldn't call him that, Harry. It'll stick and he'll be teased mercilessly at Hogwarts."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "He has your temperament, so he won't be teased for long."

Draco reached into the crib and brushed a wild curl from the boy's forehead. "It's a good thing too, since he had the unfortunate luck of inheriting your hair."

The tiny boy whimpered and rolled onto his side, clutching his blanket to his chest. Harry knew Draco was right, although the hair was the only resemblance Harry could see. He had Draco's remarkable grey eyes, and they were starting to see definite pointed angles now that the rolls of baby fat were fading away.

"I saw your mother's owl earlier. Is she still coming?"

Draco arched an almost invisibly white eyebrow and scowled. "Do you think she'd miss her only grandchild's birthday for anything, Potter?"

Harry agreed it had been a stupid question. "Adalbert's coming, isn't he?"

Draco nodded, reaching into the crib to pick up the little miracle made possible by the genetic genius of Hermione's new husband. Harry had never thought he'd meet anyone more studious than she was, but he'd been wrong. Adalbert could give even Hermione a run for her money.

"I'm sure Pansy and Luna will be late again, as usual." Draco grimaced as he said it, but Ollie just giggled and tugged at Draco's hair.

"We've been late to a few parties in our time, you know."

"Yes, and for the same reason. That's what makes it so disturbing."

Harry grinned and took Ollie from Draco's arms, blowing a raspberry against the crook of his still chubby neck. Ollie squealed happily. "Could be worse. She could have hooked up with Ron instead."

"Pansy would never settle for a Gryffindor," Draco said matter-of-factly as Harry laid Ollie on the changing table.

"Hey!" Harry nudged Draco's shoulder with his own. "You didn't settle. And for that you get to change his nappy."

"Sure I did." Draco grinned and tickled Ollie's tummy. "And I'd do it again a hundred times over." Draco's nose wrinkled as he tugged off Ollie's nappy and waved his wand to clean up the smelly mess. The boy looked up at them and smiled a toothy grin. He kicked his little legs and Harry stared at the wand shaped birthmark on his right thigh. "Do you think Ollivander's right? That he'll grow up to be a better Wandmaker than either of us?"

Draco took Harry's hand and squeezed. "Between the two of you, I think that's asking a lot, but stranger things have happened."

Harry's eyes moved from his son to the shining ring that adorned Draco's finger. He smiled and happily agreed.