Since the first time he had soared into the sky on a broom, Harry had fallen in love. He cherished the thrill of freedom that came with flying. Somehow, it didn’t matter if he was catching a snitch or just racing through the heavens; when he was amongst the clouds he was free. Today was one of the days that reminded him readily of how much he loved flying, because it was one of the four times out of the regular Quidditch season that Harry had the opportunity to play opposite Draco Malfoy.

Both young seekers were offered several professional Quidditch contracts even before their graduations. Draco had eventually settled on a position with the Falmouth Falcons, while Harry went to join his old Quidditch teammate, Oliver Wood, with Puddlemere United. Both young men had now been playing professional Quidditch for three seasons, and so far at the end of each year, one of their two teams had always taken first place in the British league, with the other running a close second. The now-friendly rivalry between the two young men was legendary, and the fans flocked to see the two seekers play opposite one another; a game between the Falcons and Puddlemere was always a guaranteed sellout.

Harry could feel the anticipation coiling through his body as he passed through the passageway to the field. He immediately took to the air, as did the other players from his team, whooping and circling the pitch, limbering up to the sounds of the cheering crowd. Dully in the background he heard the Referee’s whistle and knew that the team captains must have met, shaken hands, and taken to the skies as well. As Harry glided to a stop, hovering high above the pitch, the cheers of the crowd faded into the background as his eyes locked on another player streaking up through the sky towards his position. Harry’s grin broadened as the player approached.

If Draco Malfoy was beautiful on the ground, he was absolute perfection in the skies. His lithe, toned body moved flawlessly through the air, the grey and white Quidditch robes he wore only enhancing his stunning features. He guided his broom in a looping arc to settle casually in front of Harry. The soft breeze that wafted through the sky at their higher altitude stirred the fine blonde tendrils of hair that framed Draco’s face. His blue-grey eyes were alight with mischief and determination, his mouth curving into an easy smile as he taunted Harry halfheartedly. “Scared, Potter?” he shouted out over the space between them.

“You wish!” Harry answered with a chuckle. He nodded once to Draco, and in a tradition that they had shared since their last year at Hogwarts, the two leaned forward on their brooms and shot past each other, both beginning their search for the elusive snitch.

As Draco passed on Harry’s right side, Harry could have sworn he felt the brush of fingertips against his sleeve. Shaking it off as his imagination, Harry focused instead on the game beneath him as he circled the pitch. About twenty minutes or so into the game, Harry abandoned his search for the snitch for only a moment, and glanced at the scoreboard, just as his team scored what appeared to be their fifth goal. As the Falcons had only three goals thus far in the game, Harry joined his teammates and their fans in a brief whoop of delight. His momentary distraction though, would be his undoing.

Harry barely stayed on his broom as a flash of blonde hair and grey robes streaked past him. Without a second thought, Harry swooped after Draco, lying low over his Firebolt 5000, encouraging every ounce of speed out of the enchanted broomstick, as he drew closer and closer to his rival. Harry’s eyes focused slightly ahead of Draco to lock onto the tiny golden spot that fluttered just out of the blonde’s reach. As the snitch took a sudden drop, both brooms and seekers dove after it, pulling up out of their respective dives only inches away from the pitch as the tiny golden ball soared upwards into the sky again.

Harry could barely hear Draco’s growl of frustration through the alternating gasps and cheers from the spectators. Inwardly, Harry cheered, grateful for the snitch’s elusiveness for the exact reason that it perturbed Draco; it gave him more time to put on a burst of speed and bring his broom level with Draco’s. Harry’s efforts though would be in vain today, for the moment that he finally matched the blonde’s pace, Draco’s pale fingers closed over the tiny ball, clutching it tightly in his palm. Harry slowed as Draco rose into the sky, holding the shiny golden snitch tightly in his fingertips as he showed it off to the crowd. The accolades of the Falcons’ fans grew even louder as they celebrated their team’s quick victory. Draco turned a triumphant smile towards Harry, whose own disappointment at not achieving his goal was quickly squashed by watching his childhood nemesis revel in the glory he so richly deserved for a job well done.

Suddenly though, Harry’s own beaming smile disappeared and his eyes flew open wide as he saw the bludger bearing down on Draco from behind. “MOVE!!” he screamed out over the noise of the crowd.

Harry would take time later to wonder about why Draco had unquestionably followed his order. Draco turned his broom sharply to the side, but it wasn’t fast enough. The bludger smacked hard into the tail, setting the broomstick into a frenzied spin. Harry watched in horror as Draco tumbled from his broom, the crowd around them now gasping and screaming. Harry saw his own panic mirrored in Draco’s eyes as the blonde began to freefall like a stone to the earth below.

Without even being cognizant of his actions, only knowing that he HAD to reach Draco in time, Harry angled his broom downward and rocketed through the air. He knew he had but one chance, and failure was not an option. Sheer terror sent icicles of dread through Harry’s veins as he momentarily considered his world without Draco Malfoy in it. Banishing the thoughts to the back of his mind, he leaned forward against his broom even tighter, flying down…down; eyes set on Draco alone. With a final burst of speed, Harry pulled beneath Draco, grabbing onto the blonde’s arm hard, feeling Draco’s hand wrap around his own wrist tightly, yanking the blonde up behind him onto the broom. He heard Draco’s wail of pain, as the blonde’s shoulder apparently dislocated from the force of being wrenched so fiercely to a stop.

Harry had little time to worry about Draco at the moment though, as he pulled back hard on his broom, attempting to pull them out of the dive. His teeth gritted as he fought against the physical forces propelling them to the ground, the added weight on his broom making it sluggish and hard to control. Harry allowed himself a moment of utter panic before he felt the blonde’s other arm grasping around his waist, the warmth of Draco’s body angling back as one with Harry’s, allowing Harry to guide and use their combined body weight to gain better control over the broom. The gambit worked less than a few meters from the ground. The broom finally leveled out just as it came into contact with the extra cushioning charms that had been spelled to automatically engage in the event a player fell from his or her broom. Meeting the resistance of the cushioned air, the broom jostled Harry and Draco loose, both sprawling on their backs harmlessly against the cushioned ground.

Harry turned his head towards Draco, only to see a pair of wide silver eyes staring at him. As the seconds passed, Harry watched with fascination as the terror and thrill wore off, only to be replaced by amusement dancing in those expressive orbs. Harry looked at Draco in bewilderment, not understanding what his former rival could possibly find amusing in this scenario, until wearily Draco opened his left fist and held up the snitch, one wing completely crushed, the other flapping almost angrily.

~*~


“May I come in?”

Harry’s attention was drawn to the entrance of the locker room. He sucked in a breath when he saw Draco standing there, dressed in nothing but a pair of faded Muggle jeans and a midnight blue jumper. His hair was still damp from his shower, hanging loosely around his face. “Draco,” Harry breathed out.

Draco nodded to Harry and his lips upturned slightly, cocking his head as if waiting for something. Suddenly, Harry blushed, realizing that he had never answered Draco’s question. “Sure, yes, of course. Come in.”

Draco sauntered into the room, casually looking around at his surroundings as he made his way to Harry’s side. Casually settling on a bench opposite Harry’s locker, Draco smiled genuinely and addressed Harry. “I came to say ‘Thank You’, and to invite you for dinner as a way of expressing my gratitude. I owe you a wizard’s debt. You saved my life today, Potter.”

Harry flushed scarlet as he noticed Draco’s eyes raking over him. Suddenly self-conscious, Harry slipped his jumper on over his bare chest and smoothed down the material of his jeans. Harry was certainly no longer the scrawny, bespectacled youth he had been, and so he was used to garnering a modicum of attention. He now stood at a respectable six feet in height, and had filled out quite nicely with layers of lean muscle wrapped around his frame. His hair was still perpetually messy, but now that he kept it slightly longer, it didn’t appear as bedraggled as it had in his youth. His eyesight had been corrected, so now his emerald-green eyes attracted even more attention to his already handsome face. Harry felt heat flooding through his system as he seated himself on the low bench and began to don his trainers. The casual stares of fans or even of his few and infrequent dates, had affected him less than this perusal by Draco right now.

“Draco, you don’t owe me anything. I didn’t save your life, the cushioning charms did,” Harry gently reminded the blonde, embarrassed that he had forgotten about the charms as he raced to what amounted to an unnecessary rescue. “Even if I had saved your life, it would have only made us even anyway. You saved my life in the Final Battle, or don’t you remember?” Harry gently reminded the blonde.

“That was a war, we were allies; it doesn’t count,” Draco countered.

“To me it did,” Harry answered sincerely, as his eyes met Draco’s. Enraptured for a moment by the smoky, silver eyes before him, Harry couldn’t seem to find his voice. Finally, though, he broke the trance and leaned down to continue lacing his shoe. “But as for today, as my coach already reminded me, very loudly I might add, the charms would have broken your fall with or without my interference. I probably hurt you worse by jerking you up like that. How’s your shoulder, by the way?” Harry questioned, peeking up at the blonde through his fringe.

“Mended. A bit sore,” Draco shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured with a sigh.

“You’re sorry that you tried to save my life?” Draco teased.

“No. Of course not!” Harry responded quickly, then laughed bitterly. “Just can’t seem to get enough of playing the hero. Or so they tell me.”

“Is that why you did it?” Draco questioned softly, “Why you took off after me like that?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

Harry froze for a moment unsure of how much to reveal to Draco. There may never be another moment like this again. Though the two had been on friendly terms since their last year at Hogwarts, they each traveled in their own respective circles. Harry knew precisely what the old Draco would have done with the information he was considering sharing, but something inside of him compelled him to trust the gentle tone in Draco’s question and to answer him honestly.

Harry looked up shyly and met Draco’s penetrating gaze. Almost as if under Imperius, caught in the liquid smoke in Draco’s eyes, Harry uttered the absolute truth. “Because when you fell, and I thought I might lose you forever, I suddenly realized exactly how much I need you in my life. Nobody else gets to me like you do. Flying… Dueling… Quidditch… Without you there to compete with, what point is there to all of it?”

Draco smiled impishly, and stood. Stepping right in front of Harry, one of his legs between Harry’s parted ones, Draco lifted his hand to stroke Harry’s cheek. “What point indeed?” Draco leaned down until his lips were just above Harry’s slightly parted ones.

Having expected at least some sort of rebuke or ridicule from Draco, Harry was wholly unprepared for the gentle caresses to his cheek. He found he couldn’t even form words to reply, and he scarcely dared to breathe or move lest whatever spell was holding Draco there would end. As Draco’s lips lowered to just next to his own, Harry couldn’t stop the gasp of wonder that escaped his lips. But if he had been surprised before, what happened next shocked him to his very core.

“My own personal hero,” Draco whispered, just before his lips closed over Harry’s in the tenderest of kisses. Before Harry could even properly react, Draco had stepped back a bit, though his hand remained on Harry’s cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along Harry’s cheekbone. “You never did answer my question from earlier.”

“What question?” Harry mumbled, barely able to focus as he drank in the feel of Draco’s smooth palm against his cheek, the sight of that beautiful face smiling down at him, and the light scent of Draco’s musky cologne wafting through his nostrils.

Draco chuckled and lowered his head again, whispering his words against Harry’s lips. “Will you have dinner with me? Allow me to thank you properly for trying to be my hero?”

“Where and when?” Harry breathed out.

Instead of answering, Draco leaned in again and began kissing Harry’s lips softly; gentle, affectionate kisses filled with promise. This time, Harry eagerly kissed back, pressing his lips against Draco’s again and again. So preoccupied he was with Draco’s soft, tender kisses, that he barely registered as a scrap of parchment was pressed into his palm. He almost whimpered as Draco drew away from him, and motioned towards the parchment.

“My house is under the Fidelus charm. Some of my father’s old associates are still on the loose. I doubt I’ll ever stop being a target. You’ll have to memorize the address,” he instructed Harry calmly.

Harry’s head buzzed with questions as he wondered why Draco seemed so completely unaffected by their exchange. Had kissing him been something that Draco had considered before? Was Draco not affected at all by the contact, or was he simply masking his emotions?

Harry nodded dumbly, and scanned over the paper several times, committing the address to memory before returning the paper to Draco’s hand. As their fingertips brushed, Harry’s eyes snapped up to meet Draco’s, amazed at the intensity of the casual contact. One look into the smoky, grey depths of the blonde’s eyes gave Harry the answer to his earlier questions. Clearly, Harry hadn’t been the only one to recognize the sparks that leapt between them with every kiss and touch.

Harry cleared his throat several times before he was able to speak. “What time would you like me to be there?”

“Seven.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good.” With one parting kiss, Draco turned on his heel and swept from the room.

~*~


“I just don’t know about this, Harry,” Hermione murmured. “I thought he was engaged to Pansy Parkinson?”

“We’re just having dinner, Hermione,” Harry stated nonchalantly as he continued to try to tame his unruly hair. Ron was settled back on Harry’s bed, relaxing against the headboard, flipping through a magazine while Hermione stood, lips pursed as she gave Harry a withering gaze.

“Besides, to be fair,” Harry continued, “most of the Wizarding world thinks that you and I are engaged. Why would Draco ask me to dinner, and why would he kiss me if he was engaged? He didn’t invite me out to meet him in some secluded restaurant, Hermione; he invited me to meet him at his home.” Harry shrugged his shoulders and set down the comb, giving up on his attempt to calm his hair and instead ruffling his fingers through the messy locks. “Maybe he was engaged to Pansy at one point. Who knows? What does it matter?”

“Harry, it matters because you’ve had a crush on Draco Malfoy for years, and from the way you described him kissing you, I sincerely doubt that just dinner is on the menu for tonight.”

“I have not had a crush on him!” Harry argued, “Or at least, I didn’t think I did.”

“Oh please, mate,” Ron interjected, not even bothering to look up from his magazine, “It was obvious to even me that you fancied the bloke when we were in school.”

“So besides the worries about Pansy, it would really be okay with both of you if something did happen between Draco and me?”

The three friends had remained as such throughout the years, even finding a three bedroom flat to share after graduation. Both of his friends’ opinions and judgment mattered greatly to Harry. Not many major decisions had been made in his life without either one or both of their opinions or consent, and Harry needed to know if a relationship with Draco would threaten their friendships before he got in too deep with the blonde.

Harry was looking at Hermione, expecting the answer to come from her, and was pleasantly surprised to hear Ron’s voice answer his question.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ron inquired. Harry’s eyes snapped over to meet Ron’s, only to see the blue eyes studying him curiously. Ron shrugged idly and continued. “He wouldn’t be my choice for you, and I still don’t like him, but then again I don’t really know him. What I do know is that the bloke who faced off against his own father to save your arse in the Final Battle isn’t the same Malfoy we grew up with. If you’ve found something in him to like, then there must be something there.”

Harry smiled gratefully at Ron and then turned back to Hermione. “You’re awfully quiet. Do you disagree with him?”

“No…yes…I just don’t know, Harry. I don’t want you to get hurt. But of course, I’ll always support you,” she agreed, giving Harry a quick hug.

“Thanks, both of you,” With a kiss to the top of Hermione’s head, and a wave to Ron, Harry ended the discussion by walking out the door.

“And if the ferret breaks your heart, I’ll ‘Avada’ him myself,” Hermione murmured.

“Sorry, love,” Ron countered quietly. “You’ll have to stand in line behind me.”

~*~


Harry apparated into what appeared to be a stylish, contemporary sitting room. It was well furnished, every piece obviously chosen by someone with exquisite tastes and an eye for detail, but without the overstated opulence that Harry had expected Malfoy Manor to have. Before he could finish his perusal of his surroundings though, a blonde head peeked around the door.

“Potter, I thought I heard you pop in. I’m right in the middle of getting the rolls out of the oven and I don’t want them to burn. Okay if I give you the grand tour later?”

“Sure.”

“Good, then just drop your cloak anywhere and follow me.”

Still a bit confused as to the modest surroundings, Harry quickly shed his cloak, smoothed down the front of his casual robes, and followed Draco out into the hallway. He barely caught a glimpse of the blonde before he disappeared into a room which must obviously be the kitchen. Harry covered the remainder of the corridor in several strides, inhaling deeply of the delightful scents wafting out of the kitchen. He was quite unprepared for the sight that greeted him, however, when he walked through the door of the kitchen. There was Draco Malfoy, looking very comfortable in the obviously oft-used and well appointed kitchen, levitating nearly a dozen golden-brown rolls onto a plate in his hand. Spoons magically stirred items in several pots on the stove and the scent of roasted duck was wafting from the still-open oven.

“Gods, Draco that smells fabulous.”

“Thanks. Hopefully it will taste as good as it smells,” Draco replied, turning to Harry with a sly smirk. “It should though, I certainly cook it often enough. Duck à l’Orange is one of my favorite dishes.”

“Mmmm. Duck is one of my favorites as well. Anything I can do to help?” Harry inquired.

“Not at all,” Draco waved dismissively, “You’re my guest, go have a seat at the breakfast table. I’ve already set out a bottle of wine for us. Why don’t you help yourself to a glass while I finish up?”

Draco busied himself with his preparations for a few more moments as Harry settled in at the table Draco had indicated. Harry chuckled silently to himself, amazed at the relaxed ease at which Draco moved through his own kitchen, and shocked at how little he actually knew of the gorgeous man before him. Harry watched as Draco removed his lightweight royal blue robe with a huff of annoyance, leaving him attired only in a matching, untucked button-down silk shirt, charcoal grey trousers, and Italian leather loafers.

Draco’s beauty was obvious from the first moment you saw him. His striking features and slim build, accented by his pale, flawless skin made him the subject of many a fantasy. Harry had always been intrigued by Draco’s wit, but after his allegiances had become known during the war, and Draco’s sarcastic barbs were no longer thrown with their cutting edge, Harry had found himself enamored with the Slytherin seeker. However, now as he sat in Draco Malfoy’s kitchen, having some of his preconceived notions evaporating before him, Harry found himself, if possible, even more attracted to the blonde than he had been before.

Finally appearing satisfied with the state of their dinner, Draco turned towards Harry, idly blowing a wisp of hair that had fallen into his eyes. He walked over to Harry and casually plucked the glass of untouched wine from Harry’s hand, setting it on the table next to them.

“And now that I’ve got a minute, I can greet you properly. Welcome to my home, Potter.” Draco reached both hands out to cradle Harry’s face, leaning forward until his lips gently brushed against Harry’s again. Harry’s hands automatically settled on Draco’s hips, and when he felt Draco readying to move away, he couldn’t suppress the instinct to tighten his grip ever so slightly. Draco drew his head back only a moment, obviously searching Harry’s eyes for something. He must have been happy with what he saw, because a smile crept over his lips just before he again pressed them against Harry’s.

This time however, the kiss was much different. Harry felt as Draco’s tongue slid forward, stroking insistently against his lips. Harry eagerly opened his mouth, his own tongue darting forward to tangle with Draco’s languidly. They stayed that way for several minutes, both lost in the feelings evoked by the ever-mounting passion that was building slowly between them. It wasn’t until Harry stood, pulling Draco tighter against him, their already hardened lengths brushing against each other through their trousers, that they came to their senses and stepped back away from each other, both panting a bit from their efforts.

Draco was the first to recover his wits, licking his reddened lips enticingly as he smirked. “Potter, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to make me burn our dinner.”

Harry chuckled, letting out a shaky breath as he sat back down heavily into his chair. “Definitely not. I wouldn’t trade this treat for anything. Somehow I didn’t picture you of all people cooking.”

“Thought I’d have a house full of elves, eh?” Draco teased, as he again returned to the stove, f beginning to levitate the food onto serving platters at the urging of his wand. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Potter.”

“I’m beginning to notice that,” Harry admitted readily, clamping down on his desire for the moment. “Like for instance, where are we? I mean, I know this is your home, but I thought you still lived at Malfoy Manor. And stop calling me ‘Potter’, it’s very annoying.”

“All right, Harry,” Draco emphasized, rolling his eyes in amusement. “And no, I haven’t lived in the Manor since I graduated from Hogwarts. I shared a flat with Blaise Zabini for a few months, and then I moved here once I had it decorated the way I wanted. I don’t even enjoy visiting the Manor; too many bad memories there. Mother likes the old, drafty place. Personally, I’m much happier here. It’s a modest, three bedroom home on a property I own. It’s very secluded, and the whole area is unplottable.”

Their casual, friendly discussion about their lives since Hogwarts continued as Harry helped Draco to levitate the heaping platters of food to the already set dining room table. They talked about many things while they ate, each sharing stories of their early lives and how everything had changed after the Final Battle. The one thing they didn’t discuss was the battle itself. After dinner, Draco shooed Harry to the sitting room to relax, promising only to be a few minutes straightening up the dining room and kitchen, and refusing Harry’s pleas to allow him to assist.

Harry wandered around the sitting room, swirling the wine around in his glass idly as he perused some of the antiques Draco had collected. Finally, his eyes were drawn to a picture on the mantelpiece. It was a picture taken by Colin Creevey right after the battle had ended, which displayed five of the most unlikely comrades; a photograph Harry readily recognized because its twin stood on his own mantelpiece at home. No, there was no need to discuss the battle. The facts of that day more than spoke for themselves…

The tension was running high at Hogwarts. Several Death Eater attacks had taken place in both London and Hogsmeade. The castle was set on the highest alert possible, students were not allowed to travel outside of the castle for any reason, and inside only with either a seventh year student or professor as escort. So when Harry witnessed Remus Lupin hustle through the main doors to the Great Hall, catching Harry’s glance for a long moment before turning his gaze to Dumbledore, Harry knew the time had come. Without a second thought Harry rose to his feet, and headed for the staff table, Ron and Hermione quickly on his heels.

“We have a half hour at most,” Remus hissed loud enough for Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, and the three students to hear. “He’s amassing his forces in the forest even as we speak.”

Before any of them could respond, they heard a loud disagreement erupt at the Slytherin table.

“ENOUGH! We can’t wait any longer,” Draco stated emphatically, as he rose from the table, shaking off Pansy’s hold on his forearm. “I’m making my choice now, and you’re either with me, or against me.” His eyes strayed over each of his seventh year classmates. “We all know what’s about to happen out there. Don’t pretend we don’t. We can help to stop this once and for all, or die trying.”

“I really don’t feel like dying today,” Pansy snapped.

“So you’d rather lick the Dark Lord’s boots like our fathers?” Draco inquired with a scowl, ignoring the gasps from the nearby tables. “Malfoys don’t bow down before anyone,” he sneered. “Somewhere along the line my father forgot that.”

“You’re really going to join up with a bunch of Mudblood-lovers?” Theodore Nott said incredulously, his wand clutched in his hand as he stood to face off against Draco.

“This fight isn’t about blood purity anymore, and you know it, Nott. It’s about that sodding wanker and his personal vendetta against Potter,” Draco replied through gritted teeth. “Today I’m casting my lot, and it’s with Potter and Dumbledore.” Draco turned towards his two henchmen, a wary eye still on Theodore Nott. “Crabbe? Goyle?”

The two huge boys shrugged their shoulders, and smiled brightly at Draco. Goyle answered for both of them. “Our fathers always told us to follow whatever you do, so I suppose this applies as well.”

“Not quite as stupid as you pretend to be, are you?” Draco snorted in amusement.

“Easier that way,” Crabbe offered with a shrug.

Draco nodded and looked towards his other year mates. “Millicent and Blaise are a non-issue. So what about you…” Draco’s question was abruptly cut off as he heard the curse fired at his side. He whipped around, wand drawn and leveled at his would-be opponent, pleasantly surprised to see not only Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode, and Zabini’s wands, but wands from nearby tables including those of the Golden Trio’s, pointed in Pansy’s direction as well. He almost laughed when he saw Pansy’s pout as she stood over Nott’s prone body.

“Oh, what? Like you thought Nott was going to agree to this little escapade of yours? His hand was itching into his pocket to lock onto that portkey his father sent him.” Pansy sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Fine! We’ll cast our lot with Potter. But I just had a manicure, and I warn you now, if I break even ONE nail, you owe me!”

Harry couldn’t stop the chuckle that memory always served to bring. His fingertip traced over the moving figures in the photograph. It had been only four years ago, but it felt like a lifetime. Harry watched as picture-Ron and picture-Hermione bickered, while picture-Pansy looked at her fingernails in disgust. And for the first time, Harry observed with delight that picture-Draco seemed to be casting just as many glances towards picture-Harry, as picture-Harry cast back at him.

So caught up in his thoughts was Harry that he didn’t even hear Draco enter the room, until the blonde had sidled up behind him. Harry sighed contently as Draco’s arm settled around his waist, pulling Harry back to his chest. Draco’s head rested softly on Harry’s shoulder, his hand making gentle circles across Harry’s abdomen. “Sickle for your thoughts?”

“Just remembering that day. I’ll never forget the look on Snape’s face when you stunned him as he entered the Great Hall.”

Draco shrugged and snickered. “Who knew he was a spy? He played the role of evil Dark Lord worshipper perfectly.”

“Yeah, well so did you.”

“Touché.” Draco sighed softly, his breath tickling Harry’s ear as he exhaled.

“So,” Harry began, building up his courage to ask the question he needed answered before they went any further. “How is Parkinson? There’s quite a few rumors around about your impending nuptials.”

“Mmmm,” Draco murmured as his tongue licked a trail around the curve of Harry’s ear, suckling lightly at the other man’s earlobe. Draco withdrew slightly, chuckling at Harry’s whimper of protest. “Well I certainly don’t see Pansy here, do you?” Draco inquired breathily. “Besides, I’d much rather talk about us.”

“Us?” Harry questioned quietly, his worries about Draco and Pansy’s relationship evaporating, and his heart leaping for joy as he heard Draco refer to themselves as a couple.

“Well, that all depends, Harry,” Draco stated quietly, “Did you really mean what you said earlier today? About how you felt when I fell?”

Harry took a fortifying breath and turned in Draco’s embrace so he faced the blonde. Emboldened by the twinge of insecurity he heard in Draco’s voice, Harry tried to convey the sincerity of his words through his eyes, as they locked on the silver-grey orbs in front of him. He cradled Draco’s face gently in his calloused palms, brushing his fingertips over the smooth, high cheekbones. “I meant every word. When you fell, a piece of me went with you. I’ve never felt anything like that before, not about anyone.”

“Good. Because the whole time I was falling, all I could do was look up at you. And I kept thinking how much I didn’t want to die before I had the chance to do this.”

Without another word, Draco’s lips closed over Harry’s. Both seekers’ mouths immediately opened, readily anticipating the kiss deepening. Their tongues met languidly at first, gently caressing and slowly stoking the fires of their desire. Harry’s hands carded through Draco’s soft locks as Draco’s hands stroked up and down Harry’s back, at last settling on Harry’s hips. But when Draco moved in tighter against Harry, and both moaned at the sensation of their burgeoning erections brushing together, Harry broke the kiss, realizing he had to clarify one thing before he surrendered to the perfect creature before him.

“Gods, Draco,” Harry whimpered as Draco nipped and licked his way down Harry’s jaw to his earlobe. “That feels so good, but I need to make sure of something before this goes any further. Tell me that you’re not doing this out of some strange sense of obligation because I caught you earlier today.”

Draco’s head rose from its position against Harry’s neck, and he sneered at Harry as haughtily as was possible considering that his hair was mussed and his lips reddened and swollen. “Harry, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you to fuck me for the last couple of years. If I had known that all it would take was a fall from my broom, I would have taken a dive off of it ages ago.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and snickered. “Knowing you, you probably would have.”

“Damn straight. A Slytherin always gets what he wants,” Draco replied cheekily. Almost immediately sobering, Draco met Harry’s gaze questioningly. “But what about you? Are you sure about this?”

“I’m no blushing virgin, Draco. And yes, I’m very sure.” To emphasize his point, Harry ground his pelvis against Draco’s. “In fact, I want to be buried so far inside of you that neither of us can tell where one of us ends and the other begins.”

“Oh fuck, Harry.”

“Precisely,” Harry whispered breathily. “Perhaps you’d better give me that tour then. I’m particularly interested in seeing your bedroom.”

~*~


The two seekers barely made it up the stairs and into Draco’s room before they started peeling each other’s clothing off. Once shoes, socks, robes and shirts were dispatched, wands tossed haphazardly on the bedside table, the two hastily embraced, as if the pain of being separated for even those few long seconds had been too much.

Harry lovingly trailed kisses down Draco’s neck and chest, loving the sweet whimpers and soft curses Draco would utter when he would hit one of the blonde’s sensitive spots. Harry nipped and suckled at each flat nipple in turn, Draco’s moans and pleas increasing in volume and frequency. Harry’s hands slowly slid down the blonde’s back, and Draco’s breath hitched as at last Harry’s fingertips dipped just beneath the waistband of his trousers.

“Oh fuck, yes, please,” Draco entreated. As Harry’s head dipped lower, Draco’s hands moved from their perch on the former Gryffindor’s shoulders to twine in Harry’s hair.

Harry circled Draco’s navel with his tongue, his fingers blazing a path around Draco’s sides until they met just beneath his own chin, deftly unbuttoning the blonde’s trousers, and then pulling both Draco’s trousers and pants down his legs.

Draco groaned as his erection was released, the friction along his length as his clothing was removed almost sending him over the edge prematurely.

Harry fell the rest of the way to his knees, and licking his lips greedily, leaned in to taste his lover for the first time. One hand gripped firmly on the blonde seeker’s hip as the other closed around the base of Draco’s shaft, and Harry’s tongue darted out to sample the pearly fluid coating the head of the blonde’s cock. Draco and Harry uttered twin moans of pleasure, and Harry wasted no time in taking the rest of Draco’s bobbing length into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the head as he set up a slow and teasing rhythm. It wasn’t long though before Harry felt Draco’s fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him back.

Harry rocked back on his heels, releasing the engorged member from his mouth with a soft pop, and looked up at Draco. The blonde’s chest was heaving, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat, his hair silkily framing his face, his eyes glittering with lust and something else Harry couldn’t quite identify.

“I want to come with you inside of me. Please, Harry. I can’t hold out much longer. And I want to touch you.”

Harry nodded and rose to his feet. Without hesitation, Draco’s hands flew to the fastenings of Harry’s trousers. One hand pushed the trousers and pants to the floor, as the other hand closed around Harry’s cock.

Harry groaned softly, leaning his forehead down onto Draco’s shoulder. Draco’s cool, soft hand tightening around his cock felt perfect. Harry whimpered in protest when Draco’s hand left his aching cock, but he soon discovered that he didn’t mind so much as the talented hands worked their way across his torso.

Draco pushed Harry back towards the bed, and Harry readily moved to the center of the large four-poster bringing Draco down on top of him. He let his eyes flutter closed as he reveled in the heady, maddeningly gentle sensations of Draco’s tongue and fingertips slowly mapping out his body inch by inch.

Finally, Harry could take it no more. His arms closed around Draco’s waist, and he flipped them so that he was sprawled on top of the blonde. One hand trailed between Draco’s legs to tease at the blonde’s entrance, as Harry insistently nipped at the sensitive skin behind Draco’s ear. “Enough teasing. I’m about to burst. I need to fuck you, claim you, take you.”

“Oh sweet Merlin, yes.” Draco reached beneath one of the many pillows and pulled out a small jar of viscous gel which he then thrust into one of Harry’s hands. “I think you know what to do with that,” Draco teased.

Harry smirked, chuckling as he coated his fingers with the lubricant and slowly slid a finger down to circle the quivering ring of muscle. He hastily but thoroughly prepared Draco, sweeping his fingertips over Draco’s prostate insistently until the blonde was squirming in need beneath him. He hurriedly coated his cock and pushed the jar of lube out of his way. Wiping his fingertips clean on the sheet, Harry lifted up.

“Turn over,” Harry said breathily.

Draco scurried to comply, turning quickly onto his stomach. Harry leaned forward over Draco, positioning the head of his cock at Draco’s entrance. He gripped Draco’s hips tightly, preventing the blonde from moving as he slowly slipped inch after inch inside of his lover. When at last Harry had buried himself to the root inside of Draco’s arse, he lowered himself over the blonde, laying a kiss against Draco’s shoulder.

“Fuck this feels so right being inside of you,” Harry panted out as he forced himself to stay still and allow Draco time to adjust.

“It’d feel bloody better if you’d fucking move. Oh gods, please Harry,” Draco pleaded.

Harry needed no further encouragement. He started with slow, teasing thrusts, eventually building into an almost punishing rhythm, one which Draco encouraged wholeheartedly with his constant pleas of ‘more’ and ‘harder’, his hips bucking up to meet Harry’s thrusts.

After several long minutes, Harry could feel his climax building, the desire coiling low in his belly, and abruptly he pulled out. Draco swore in protest, looking over his shoulder at Harry beseechingly. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Turn over,” Harry commanded, his voice low and husky with need.

Confusion evident on Draco’s face, he nonetheless acquiesced to Harry’s wishes and turned over. Within moments, Harry had lifted Draco’s legs over his arms and in one smooth movement had buried himself inside Draco again.

Harry lowered himself over Draco, and felt the blonde’s legs wrap tightly around his waist. He slowly began thrusting inside Draco, the new angle bringing his cock into contact with Draco’s prostate on every stroke. “Sorry, I just missed kissing you,” Harry muttered self-consciously between teasing nips to Draco’s lips. “And I want to watch your face when you come. Okay?”

“Gods, Harry,” Draco moaned, his face contorted in pleasure. “Of course it is. There’s nothing that I’d love more than to look at your gorgeous face or get lost in these dazzling eyes of yours while you pound into me. You’re so fucking beautiful…so perfect. My own personal hero.”

Harry grew almost impossibly harder as his pace increased in response to Draco’s words. His response was punctuated by his thrusts. “You’re the…one that’s…beautiful. You look like…an angel.”

Draco’s only reply was a groan as Harry’s hand snaked between them. Feeling his orgasm only moments away, Harry’s eyes locked with Draco’s as his sweaty palm worked furiously at Draco’s stiffened shaft. It didn’t take much though, and as Harry felt the warm, sticky fluid cover his hand and chest, and Draco’s muscles tightening around his cock, Harry felt himself tip over the edge. Stars exploded behind his eyes as he surged forth one final time, spilling his seed deep within his lover.

The two collapsed, bodies still locked together. Harry only rested a moment before slowly pulling out of Draco, grimacing as he saw Draco wince in pain. Rolling them both to their sides, Harry gently cupped Draco’s face in his hands. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” Draco rolled his eyes dismissively, a huge yawn splitting his face. “A little discomfort is more than acceptable for a ride like the one you just gave me. That was bloody brilliant,” Draco purred.

“More than happy to oblige,” Harry snorted, reaching for his wand. He quickly cast cleansing charms over both of them and then snuggled back against Draco.

The blonde wearily reached out to stroke Harry’s cheek, his eyelids heavy as he fought off his body’s desire to sleep. “You are staying the night, right?”

Harry nodded his agreement. “As long as you want me to.”

“Mmmm, good,” Draco replied sleepily, sliding a leg between Harry’s and resting his head in the crook of the brunette’s shoulder. His breaths quickly evened out, and he fell into a deep sleep.

Only then did Harry quietly give the answer he had wanted to give initially to Draco’s question. “I’ll happily stay forever if you allow it.”

His grip tightened around the blonde, and within moments he had drifted into a contented sleep.

~*~


“Harry, wake up. I overslept. I’ve got to go meet Pansy,” Draco huffed in annoyance. “Her mother is insisting that we meet with the florist and Madam Malkin again today. This planning is driving me batty. Honestly, I’ll be so glad tomorrow when all of this is over.”

Harry looked at Draco in utter confusion, trying to clear his groggy head and make sense of the blonde’s words. He moved to get up from the bed, the combination of sleepiness and uncertainty making him rather uncoordinated this morning. “I should go.”

“No, don’t.” Draco pushed Harry back against the mattress. “I should be back within an hour or two. Go fix yourself some lunch. It’s already too late for breakfast. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Harry shook his head negatively as he fought to control the hurt and sadness that was clouding his mind. As the morning fogginess cleared, it was replaced by the bitter certainty that Draco Malfoy was leaving him for Pansy Parkinson, apparently to finish their wedding plans.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Harry answered icily. “I have a full schedule today. I shouldn’t have even stayed this long.”

“All right. I’ll floo you later, then,” Draco stated, leaning forward to kiss Harry’s lips. Harry turned away at the last moment, pretending to reach for his shirt, and closed his eyes; Draco’s kiss instead ended up on Harry’s cheek.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be free,” Harry commented frostily, avoiding Draco’s eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head. “I’ll be in touch when I can.”

Draco cast a surprised and slightly hurt look towards Harry, a look that was totally missed by a distraught Harry as he struggled to button his shirt. “Maybe I shouldn’t leave? I can always…”

“Oh no, by all means, please go,” Harry whispered, “You wouldn’t want to keep the Parkinsons waiting.”

Draco drew himself up stiffly and nodded in reply, and moments later, after casting one last glance at Harry, Draco apparated away.

As soon as Draco disappeared, Harry hurriedly gathered his clothing and dressed; the tears he had managed to choke back now freely coursing down his cheeks. He bit his lower lip to keep a sob from escaping as he apparated home.

~*~


Ron Weasley yanked on his outer cloak and headed to the door, his rage at the Ferret for so obviously misleading Harry just to bed him barely contained. Ron was privately glad that Hermione hadn’t been home when Harry had arrived, for he relished the idea of being the one that got to confront Malfoy.

Harry had returned home hours earlier, and after giving Ron an utterly defeated look, had headed to his bedroom in their shared flat. It had taken over an hour before Ron had coaxed Harry into allowing him inside. Harry told Ron the story of his date with Draco through hiccupping sobs, Ron’s fury increasing as more and more of Harry’s story spilled forth. After Harry had finally fallen into a fitful slumber, Ron had set off with one destination in mind.

However, Ron’s plans abruptly changed when he threw open the door, and found none other than Pansy Parkinson on his doorstep, fist raised as if she was readying to knock. Pansy scowled fiercely and pushed her way past Ron into the flat, settling imperiously on the sofa. “Where’s Potter? I want a word with him.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed in anger at Pansy’s tone, but he bit back the scathing retort before he could utter it, some part of his mind reminding him that Pansy was likely an injured party in this fiasco as well. After all, it had been her fiancé who had cheated on her with Harry last night.

Ron forced civility into his voice when he replied. “No, you may not speak with him. I’ve finally managed to get Harry calmed down, and I won’t have you upsetting him further. He had no idea that you and the Ferret were still planning to marry until this morning when Malfoy left Harry to go to you. Harry’s not that kind of guy; he never would have even agreed to have dinner with Malfoy had he known that the two of were still together.”

Pansy’s light brown eyes locked onto Ron’s, and an awkward silence stretched between the two for a moment, until Pansy’s stony countenance suddenly shifted. She lowered her face into her hands, her shoulders heaving as she tried to suppress her emotions.

Ron, having dealt with Hermione and Ginny’s crying for years, sighed resignedly and settled next to Pansy on the sofa. He gently patted her back and whispered words of comfort. “It’s all right, Parkinson. None of this is your fault. The Ferret fooled both of you.”

When Pansy’s eyes rose from her hands, Ron was astounded to see a broad grin on her face, tears of obvious mirth prickling her eyes. “I’m not upset, you dolt; I’m relieved! I should have known that Draco bollixed it up this morning when he left Potter. Potter never did seem the type to shag and run.”

“Shag and run?” Ron asked, incredulous at the quick turn around in Pansy’s mood.

“Yes. That’s why I’m here, obviously,” Pansy drawled, rolling her eyes. “I came to give Potter a piece of my mind for breaking Draco’s heart so callously. I was prepared to hex the bastard if I had to.” Pansy’s tone was light and amused as she continued. “I just left Draco in probably as horrid of condition as Potter is in right now. Let me tell you that Draco Malfoy looks perfectly awful when he cries. He gets all mottled and snotty.” She wriggled up her nose in mock disgust. “It’s rather unattractive, and one of the things I love most about him. It’s one of the few times I get to see him less than perfect.”

“Malfoy thinks that Harry…” Ron stammered out.

“…Rejected him rather harshly this morning,” Pansy confirmed. “He’s lying in his bed right now pining away over what he thought they had. When he showed up to meet Mother and me this morning, it was obvious that he was distraught. It didn’t take long for me to pry the story out of him.”

Ron blinked as he tried to figure out exactly how the two seekers had come to such abruptly different conclusions about who had in fact been the wronged party. He could tell from Pansy’s initial anger that she was sincere in her defense of Draco, but Harry had been equally sure that he had been the one rejected. Ever the strategist, Ron knew that he’d have to leave that discrepancy alone for now if he were to solve this puzzle. It seemed that one key bit of information was missing, and it was definitely an answer that the young woman in front of him could provide.

“Forgive me if I’m being thick about this, but you don’t seem very upset for someone who knows that her fiancé was shagging another bloke last night.”

“I would be, if Draco actually were my fiancé,” Pansy answered bluntly, raising her eyebrow in challenge.

“He’s not?” Ron questioned.

“No, he’s not,” Pansy answered honestly, slumping back into the sofa cushions. “Draco, however, is convinced that he was nothing more than a one-off for Potter, and that Potter’s probably off somewhere happily banging the Know-It-All, or laughing with you.”

“Harry and Hermione?” Ron spluttered. “Please, I think it should be a bit obvious after what the two of them got up to last night that Harry’s not interested in skirts.”

“Oh really?” Pansy challenged. “It apparently wasn’t that obvious to Potter that Draco and I weren’t shagging, if my guess is correct and you were about to head off to do much the same to Draco as I was intending to do to Potter.”

“Point made, Parkinson,” Ron agreed. “Something just doesn’t add up. Harry said that Malfoy distinctly mentioned going off to meet you to do some last minute wedding planning. It sounded like the affair was scheduled for tonight.”

Pansy groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly. “Draco thinks he explained this all to Potter. I should have known better. How someone so intelligent can have absolutely no common sense…” she trailed off. Taking a calming breath, Pansy turned sideways on the couch to face Ron, tucking her leg up comfortably underneath her.

“Draco and I have been under a marriage contract that was arranged by our parents since before we were born. Draco’s mother and my mother have been well within their rights to force us to marry since our graduation from Hogwarts. They both lost a great deal in power and prestige when the Dark Lord fell. Draco’s father is dead and disgraced, and mine is in Azkaban. A marriage between our two families would restore, at least according to our mothers, some sense of what they had before. So in order to avoid the inevitable, Draco and I have been biding our time, putting them off, acting the part in front of the press, attending functions together.”

Pansy sighed, and offered Ron a wry smile. “Draco is my best friend, he has been since we were children. I’m the first person who knew that he liked blokes. It’s only natural for us to hug, kiss, and hold hands; there’s nothing sexual about it, but it’s a far sight more affectionate than either of our families have seen from their arranged marriages for centuries.”

“So they’ve bought your act completely,” Ron commented, giving Pansy an impressed nod.

“Without our even trying,” Pansy agreed, and then shrugged. “We’ve never promised them that we’d marry; never lied to them, or anyone about our relationship.”

“Just never went so far as to clarify that the two of you were just friends.”

“We are Slytherins, Weasley,” Pansy teased.

“Enough said. So this party tonight? The flowers, the trip to Madam Malkin’s?”

“It’s my twenty-first birthday tonight; Draco’s was last month. As of tonight, we’re both legally old enough to make the decision to nullify the contract ourselves, and so at my birthday party we’re setting the bloody parchment on fire.”

“Utterly brilliant,” Ron mumbled, offering Pansy a brilliant smile.

“Thank you. I thought so,” Pansy smirked, puffing up proudly for a moment, before her expression turned somber. “Look Weasley, I’m trusting you with some very intimate information here. Both Draco and I have been so focused on getting past this that neither of us have dated anyone in a long time. I can’t even remember the last time I…” She blushed fiercely as she realized what she had almost revealed. “Well…you get the point,” she snapped. “I know for a fact that Draco hasn’t taken anyone to his bed for over a year. He didn’t want this to be a one night stand anymore than I suspect Potter did.”

Ron sighed resignedly, nodding; hoping his newfound trust in Pansy Parkinson would be well founded. He blew out a breath, and met Pansy’s gaze again. “Harry’s wanted Malfoy since seventh year, probably since before, he was just too clueless to realize it. I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but how are we going to get the two prats together?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” said Harry with a defeated sigh as he slumped against the wall. Pansy and Ron whipped around towards Harry. Harry’s teary gaze darted from one to the other, his next statement making it obvious that he had overheard a good deal of their discussion. “He’s never going to forgive me for leaving him like that, and I don’t deserve forgiveness. I’ve really fucked this up so badly. Gods, what am I going to do?”

“Bloody hell! He’s in love with Draco,” Pansy whispered loud enough so that only Ron could hear.

“I wouldn’t doubt it. He actually considered staying with Malfoy even when he thought the Ferret was marrying you,” Ron answered quietly, with a slight squeeze of reassurance to Pansy’s hand.

Pansy nodded, and with a determined set to her face, reached inside the collar of her robe, extracting a small pendant suspended on a silver chain. “If I were you, I’d duck.”

Without another word, Pansy squeezed the pendant in her palm. Almost instantaneously, Draco Malfoy appeared in front of Ron and Pansy, wand drawn, barely biting back the spell that he was about to cast. He looked from Pansy to Ron incredulously. “What the bloody fuck? That pendant is only supposed to be used in a life or death situation, Pansy! I could have bloody well killed either one of you!”

“Draco?” Harry sobbed, alerting the blonde to his presence.

Draco whipped around and stared, bewildered, at Harry’s trembling form, just an arm’s reach away from him, and lowered his wand. “Will somebody please tell me what’s going on here?” he bit out.

Ron relaxed as soon as Draco’s wand was lowered, and took his first good look at the blonde. Pansy hadn’t been exaggerating. Draco looked as bad, if not worse than Harry did. The last vestiges of the redhead’s worry over how Draco would treat Harry melted at the sight of the undisguised hurt and pain in Draco Malfoy’s eyes as his gaze shifted back from Harry towards Ron and Pansy.

Pansy started to answer, but Ron stopped her with a gentle touch to her arm, choosing to answer Draco’s question himself instead. “He thought that you were marrying Pansy. That’s the only reason he left.”

“No one’s ever wanted me for me,” Harry interrupted quietly, his words laced with pain and resentment. “I’ve become quite bitter; I just naturally expect that anyone who sleeps with me may have ulterior motives.” His lower lip quivered as he met Draco’s eyes for what he was sure would be the last time. “I’m so sorry, Draco. I never meant to hurt you. I hope you can find it in your heart to…”

The rest of Harry’s apology was cut off abruptly as Draco’s lips closed over Harry’s possessively, his tongue darting out to taste the sweetness of Harry’s mouth, before he pulled back and stared deeply into the still-teary emerald eyes. “I will never give you reason to doubt my intentions again.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Harry sobbed, pulling Draco tightly against him.

“That’s a very good thing, Harry, because since I’m already in love with you, I can catch you when you fall,” Draco replied, swallowing visibly as he tried to choke back the overwhelming emotions. “It’s only fair after all. You caught me yesterday; today, I’ll catch you.”

~*~


Oblivious to their surroundings, the two seekers had slowly fumbled their way to Harry’s bedroom without remembering that they had left their two best friends behind.

Pansy gestured towards the closed door of Harry’s room. “That was almost too easy.”

“Just like falling off a broom,” Ron commented with a smirk.

“That was actually rather funny,” Pansy agreed with a snicker.

Ron shrugged. “I do have my moments.”

“Damn,” Pansy swore, her mood abruptly changing as she poked out her lower lip in a pout.

“What is it, Parkinson?”

“I just realized that I am now short a date for my own twenty-first birthday party, Weasley,” she sulked. “And please, call me Pansy.”

“It’s Ron,” the redhead replied. He took Pansy’s hand gently in his own and kissed her fingertips. “And I’d be honored to escort you, if you’d allow me to.”

“Granger won’t object to you becoming so familiar with an available witch…Ron?” Pansy questioned coyly.

“Considering the fact that she’s shagging and planning to marry my older brother, Charlie, I doubt that will be an issue.”

~*~


Harry and Draco collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Slowly and gently, Draco pulled out of Harry, rolling to his side and turning Harry with him.

Harry happily burrowed into the warmth of Draco’s arms. “Gods, I didn’t think it could ever be more perfect than last night, but it was. I love you so much, Draco. And I promise from now on, that I will always be here to catch you when you fall. I’ll never distrust you again.”

Draco cupped Harry’s face, and smiled. Harry had no trouble clearly reading his own feelings mirrored in Draco’s eyes. “I love you too, Harry. I’ll be here to catch you as well.”