1

Harry approached the gates of Malfoy Manor and paused, wondering how to go about gaining entrance. The house was nearly invisible from this vantage, especially with the morning mist mostly concealing it in the distance.

He pulled out his wand, thinking an extremely loud Sonorous Charm might work, but a voice issued from the air near him. "Who seeks admittance?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Um. I'm here from the Bankins Agency. To do some renovations."

"Very good, sir. Please approach the front doors. Do not stray from the path or we will not be responsible for the consequences. Be prepared to provide your credentials prior to entry."

The gates swung open soundlessly and Harry stepped onto the gravel path. His eyes darted to either side, wondering what sort of heinous fate would meet those careless enough to stray from the path. He decided not to risk it; after all, he was here to complete a job, not to entangle himself in Malfoy Dark Magic.

The front steps were different from his memory, although admittedly his face had been quite swollen at the time and he had been barely able to see. The door opened as he lifted his hand to knock and a house-elf stood in the doorway, wearing what appeared to be several lace doilies strung together to form a toga.

"Please to be providing your certification," the house-elf said tonelessly and held out a hand. Harry thought it might be a female elf, if he squinted just right. He handed her his letter of authorization provided by Bankins.

"Very good, Mr Potter, sir. Please to be following this elf into the parlour to be waiting for Master Draco. This elf is being called Wooly."

Harry studied her again and thought Wooly to be a pretty odd name for a nearly hairless elf, but then, they all seemed to have bizarre names. She hovered near the door after guiding Harry to the parlour. He debated sitting down, but thought it might be best to be alert and have wand in hand when Malfoy arrived. He was not completely sure his presence would be welcome.

"Potter. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy glaring at him, also with wand in hand. The same wand Harry had returned to him without a note shortly after the end of the war.

Harry gestured to Wooly. "I was sent by the Bankins Agency. My letter is there."

Malfoy snatched the parchment from the elf and scanned it quickly before a sneer decorated his pale features. "Is this some sort of joke? Did the Ministry send you here to spy on me?"

Harry frowned. "The Ministry can't send me anywhere. I resigned from the Auror Division six months ago."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yes, it was in all the papers for weeks. Everyone seemed to think the entire Wizarding World would crumble and fall without you at the helm."

Harry clenched his jaw. "It didn't," he said shortly.

"I'm sure everyone was suitably surprised. And now you are working as a handyman?" Malfoy's tone was dry.

"Yes. I started renovating my house and decided I liked it, so I signed up as a contractor with Bankins."

"And this has nothing to do with some secret Ministry spy mission?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why? Are you doing anything worth spying on?"

Malfoy glared at him. "Certainly not."

"Then what are you worried about?"

Malfoy looked like he wanted to argue. Harry could see him mulling it over and he took the opportunity to study Malfoy more closely. The blond looked far different than Harry had imagined. He had secretly hoped Malfoy had ballooned up to immense size, or lost all of his hair, or broken out in incurable acne. None of that had happened, of course. Malfoy looked quite fit, if possibly a bit too thin and pale. His hair looked better than ever, draping over his forehead in what should have been a waifish manner, but instead resembled something a magazine model might wear. No acne, either. His skin was smooth as marble, and nearly the same colour. He had dark circles beneath his eyes and Harry wondered if he had trouble sleeping.

He realized Malfoy was watching him with a frown. "What?"

"I said I have nothing to worry about. I suppose since you're already here I can show you what needs to be done. Come along. Do be careful not to touch anything, although I'm sure you can afford to replace it." His sneering tone made him sound disappointed that he couldn't ridicule Harry for a lack of finances.

Harry smiled and followed Malfoy, who was dressed differently than expected, also. He wore robes that resembled velvet. At first Harry thought they were a dark lavender shade, but whenever Malfoy moved they seemed to shift into different colours, from blues to pinks. It was fascinating.

It was also fascinating they way they hugged Malfoy's arse as he mounted the stairs. Harry studied that particular view and mused that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Malfoy had always possessed a fine arse; if anything, it had only improved.

Malfoy stopped suddenly and turned, and Harry snapped his eyes upward guiltily. Malfoy did not seem to notice, although he stared at Harry with a severe expression.

"It occurs to me that this job might take quite some time. Are you prepared to travel back and forth between London every single day?"

Harry nodded. He had already considered the transportation issue. The Malfoys had been disconnected from the Floo Network, so Harry had Apparated in stages to reach the grounds of the Manor. He had no intention of doing so every day, however. That would have been exhausting. "I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to complete the job."

Namely, he planned to take up residence at an inn or hotel in Salisbury for the duration and Apparate from there.

Malfoy shrugged and continued on. Harry made an effort not to study his arse. After a long meander through the mansion, they reached a door and Malfoy gestured him through it.

"This is my sitting room. As you can see, it has rather childish décor, plus something happened in here that disturbs me and I would like to erase the image from my brain forever."

Harry looked at him and wondered what sort of horrific thing Malfoy did not want to be reminded of. He remembered that Voldemort had taken up residence in the house, along with an assortment of mostly-crazy Death Eaters. He decided he would probably rather not know. Malfoy was still speaking.

"...wall needs to be taken down. It is in the wrong place. These ridiculous alcoves need to be removed. Apparently they were installed originally to house two suits of armour. Thankfully, those were removed long ago, but as you can see the spaces are useless now."

Harry nodded, examining the wall carefully. There was a door in the centre. "What is on the other side of this wall?" he asked.

"My bedroom, of course."

"Can I see it?" Harry asked.

Malfoy looked taken aback. "My bedroom?"

Harry chuckled. "The other side of the wall."

Malfoy blinked and visibly recovered his aplomb. "Yes, of course," he replied, but his cheeks were tinted pink. Harry wondered what the blond had to hide in his room.

Apparently nothing, for he walked forward and pushed the door open before gesturing at Harry to enter. Harry tried to be professional and not ogle Malfoy's bedchamber, but it was difficult. He quickly took in the huge four-poster bed, draped with half-open curtains of emerald green, and then forced himself to look away. The furnishings were dark wood, as was the wall panelling. The window curtains matched those on the bed. All in all, it was a rather dark, somewhat gloomy room that did not seem to fit Malfoy's personality at all.

He turned resolutely to look at the offending wall, which jutted into the room in two places, evidence of the alcoves on the other side. The wall was nearly devoid of decoration, but for four medieval-style pictures in heavy gilt frames.

It seemed more like the room of an elderly baron than a man barely out of his teens.

"This whole wall needs to come down?" Harry asked and Malfoy nodded.

"It will have to be replaced, of course, with something more suitable. And no alcoves."

"Are you keeping the artwork?"

Malfoy cocked his head critically and observed the paintings. "No, but Mother might want to keep them for some atrocious sentimental reason. We can put them in the attic."

Harry moved forward and grasped a frame. "Want to help me move them?"

Malfoy stared at him as though he'd sprouted a troll's head. "Certainly not. I hired you to do the job. If you require an assistant, by all means, bring one in."

Harry scowled, but bit his lip before spitting out an irritated retort. Malfoy was his client, now, not an obnoxious fellow student. "Never mind," he said and pulled out his wand. He cast several spells in quick succession and the paintings flew from the walls and stacked themselves neatly in the centre of the room.

Harry returned to the sitting room and repeated the process with the paintings lining that wall - noting their boring similarity - and then looked at Malfoy smugly. The blond shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Right then," Harry said. "Reducto!" He flicked his wand and an explosive BANG rocked the room. Dust billowed around them.

"What the fuck?" Malfoy yelled and Harry conjured a quick whirlwind to sweep away the dust. Malfoy gaped at the wall - or at the space where the wall had stood. Said wall was now a scattered pile of kindling-sized wood chips.

"You said the wall needed to come down," Harry commented simply. "It's down."

***

Draco tried not to gape at Potter, but the sheer power behind the spell Potter had uttered was mind-boggling. He surveyed the space, noting that the supporting upright beams still stood, as did the door. They had not even been scratched while everything around them was rubble.

It was incredible.

Draco forced his voice to function. "Lovely," he said dryly. "Can you clean up the mess, now?"

Potter grinned and set about moving the debris into small, neat piles which he then Vanished. Draco watched his every movement, trying not to notice how fit the bloody Gryffindor had become. His muscles rippled beneath the plain white Muggle t-shirt he wore and his jeans hugged an arse that should have been illegal.

Draco forced his eyes away from his perusal of Potter's hind parts just as the former Auror turned back.

"Now. What sort of wall did you want here?" Potter asked.

"I'm sure I don't know, Potter. You are the contractor, are you not?"

Potter blinked at him. "You're giving me carte blanche to decide what looks best?"

Draco smiled at him in a predatory fashion. "Naturally. If I dislike it, you will know."

"Yeah." Potter frowned and looked at the blank space critically. "Well, since the primary colour in here seems to be beige --"

"I don't need the running commentary, Potter. I'm not paying you for your inability to articulate. Just fix the wall."

Potter scowled and Draco felt a flare of satisfaction at the familiar expression. It was nice to discover that Potter-baiting never got old.

"Fine. I'll need to have some supplies delivered. Can I borrow an owl?"

Potter sent a message using one of the Manor owls, and then looked at Draco sheepishly. "Do you want me to come back later?"

It was logical, Draco knew. It would take some time for Potter's building materials to arrive, but he was strangely reluctant for the man to leave. Draco had been alone in the Manor for three weeks with no one to talk to but the house-elves, and he avoided that whenever possible. His parents were off on their honeymoon - their seventh, actually. The last letter Draco had received from them had been delivered by albatross and originated somewhere in Fiji.

Draco frowned. "Actually, there are a couple of other things you may be able to adjust for me." Inexplicably, Draco flushed at the words and turned away quickly before Potter noticed. "Come along."

He led Potter through the Manor, pointing out several areas for potential renovation: tearing out the wretched fountain in the solar, replacing the stone fireplace in the dining room (although Father would probably have an apoplectic fit over that), and stripping the dark mahogany from the floors in Draco's bath. He preferred lighter tones these days. Everything sombre seemed to remind him of the Dark Lord.

Potter's supplies arrived just as Draco finished the tour, so Draco left him to his task, deciding that watching the man would be damaging to his mental health.

***

Harry tacked the pale boards into place with a spell, reflecting that Sticking Charms were certainly easier than hammer and nails, but there was something rather satisfying about banging away at something. He sighed and Levitated the next board into place, knowing if he so much as used a single Muggle nail in Malfoy Manor that the blond demon would have his head.

Harry stepped back for a moment and nearly fell on his arse when his ankle caught on something that hadn't been there a moment ago. As he steadied himself, he saw a grey cat watching him with a disdainful expression. It walked a few metres away and sat, curling its long tail around itself.

"Well, hello, Your Majesty. I didn't realize I was intruding on your domain. Next time I shall watch where I put my feet," Harry said.

The cat lifted a paw and began to lick, ignoring him. He smiled, thinking it was definitely an appropriate pet for the Malfoys.

He turned back to the job and kept on until one side of the wall was complete. He looked at it critically, thinking the pale wood looked much better than the dark panelling it had replaced. He turned to ask an opinion of the cat, which had watched him from the comfortable perch of a nearby sofa, but it was gone.

A moment later, Malfoy strode into the room.

"I hate it," he said unequivocally.

Harry felt his jaw clench. He wondered if Malfoy really despised it or if he was simply being an arse.

"Pine, Potter? Honestly? You dared to use pine in the Malfoy ancestral home? In my rooms? I'll never be able to let another soul in here! The very idea. A commonplace wood such as pine in my rooms." His outrage was nearly tangible.

Harry glared as the snobbish tirade wound down, but he said nothing. He had known this particular job would be difficult, but he did not want to botch his first assignment.

Malfoy sighed dramatically. "Obviously, you are new at this. Therefore I will not fire you immediately."

"If you recall, I did ask what you wanted," Harry said tightly.

"I had no idea you were an utter imbecile... Oh. Never mind. I did." Malfoy smirked and Harry's fists clenched. "I should have known, therefore, I will accept responsibility. Please try again and use some modicum of class this time. Pine is fine for Weasleys, but not for Malfoys. Got it?"

"Yes," Harry snapped.

"You know where the owls are." With that, Malfoy breezed out, all fine arse and beastly personality. Harry snarled and began to detach the boards.

2 

Draco entered the room much later, vaguely wondering if Potter planned to work all night. He stopped in amazement at the sight that met his eyes.

Potter was shirtless, holding a board with one hand and wielding his wand with the other. The wall looked much better; Potter had found a stunning wood to use, but Draco barely noticed it as his eyes drifted over the man's exposed back. The shape of it was stunning. Potter's shoulders were broader than expected, and tapered down to a slender waist like an erotic triangle. The jeans he wore hugged his arse and showed off Potter's muscular thighs.

Potter turned toward the stack of nearby boards and froze when he noticed Draco. He straightened slightly and then turned to face him.

"Malfoy," he said. "Better?" He jerked his head toward the wall.

Draco nodded and fought to keep his eyes on Potter's. The Gryffindor's nipples were only slightly darker than the flesh surrounding them - perfect circles with small nubs in the centres that made Draco's mouth go completely dry with the sudden urge to taste them.

"Yes," he said and was mortified to find that his voice was a rasp. He coughed and said more firmly, "Yes. What sort of wood is it?"

"Tigerwood. Very rare and expensive," Potter said.

Draco nodded. "Excellent. I approve." He did, too. The grain was amazing. He looked at the patterns for a moment before switching his focus back to Potter. "Are you ever going to eat?"

Potter grinned. "I didn't know you cared."

Draco sniffed, feeling his world right itself once more with the need to annoy Potter. "Don't be an imbecile. I would rather you didn't faint from hunger and lose time on my projects. The sooner you are finished and away from here, the happier we will both be."

Potter's grin faltered and Draco felt a pang of shame for a moment, but then Potter recovered and sneered at him. "Don't worry. I've missed a few meals in the past and it never deterred me from doing what needed to be done."

Like killing the Dark Lord. Draco picked up the unspoken thought and felt another flare of regret. Why did he always feel it necessary to torment the man?

Potter Summoned his shirt with a wordless Accio and dragged it on over his head. Draco allowed himself one last ogle while Potter's face was covered, and then Potter was walking to the door.

"I'll show myself out. See you tomorrow."

And then Potter was gone.

***

Harry arrived early, even though he had gotten to bed quite late. After Apparating to a nearby town and hunting down a place to eat, he had finally collapsed atop an uncomfortable bed at a local inn.

Several bracing cups of tea had prepared him for his return trip to the Manor, where he found Malfoy still abed in the room adjoining the demolished wall. He had resisted the urge to go in and check on the sleeping blond, realizing that he would be branded the worst sort of pervert should Malfoy chance to awaken.

Instead he had followed a house-elf to the "solar" where he worked on dismantling the statue that Malfoy found so heinous. Truthfully, Harry had no idea what it was supposed to be. It resembled a Muggle work of modern art - all incomprehensible angles and oddly shaped holes.

Rather than destroy it lest one of the elder Malfoys had a different opinion than Draco's, he Levitated the thing from the water and manoeuvred it outside to the attached garden. The bloody thing was heavy and the resulting effort left him panting with exertion. It also caused the water to shoot straight into the air in a geyser-like jet before splashing back into the pool with enough force to send spray over the side of the fountain walls. Harry tried everything he could think of to staunch the flow, but the damned thing was resistant to every spell he threw at it.

He was tired and drenched by the time he gave up and let the damned thing flow. Naturally, that was the moment Malfoy made his appearance. He looked disgustingly impeccable in dark teal-coloured robes trimmed in off-white. They were reminiscent of Slytherin robes without being blatant.

"What the hell are you doing, Potter? Why didn't you turn the water off?" The blond strode forward and gestured imperiously at the fountain with a muttered, "Font Finite."

The water ceased flowing, leaving silence in its wake. Malfoy looked at him critically and Harry plucked at his sodden t-shirt self-consciously, realising that his nipples were clearly visible thought the white material, which seemed to cling even more closely to his torso whenever he released it.

After a moment, he noticed Malfoy seemed to be in a trance. "Malfoy?" he asked.

The blond seemed to shake himself. Without a word, he lifted his wand and cast a Drying Charm. Harry nearly reeled from the force of it. He straightened and glared at Malfoy. "A little warning next time?" he snapped, even though he was thankful to be dry. He had felt strangely exposed while wet, or maybe just woefully underdressed next to the impeccable blond.

"You're welcome," Malfoy replied.

Harry sighed. "What do you want in place of the sculpture I removed?" he asked, although he almost dreaded to know.

Malfoy looked at the now-still pond and frowned. "Honestly, I never thought about it."

Harry gave in to the urge to tug at his hair with one hand, but he bit his tongue. "I suppose I can finish your sitting room, then," he said.

Malfoy nodded, so Harry went out. He only got lost twice on the way back to Malfoy's chambers.

The grey cat was there to welcome him, sitting in the centre of the room. "Why, hello there!" Harry called companionably. He crouched and fished in a pocket of his jeans for a bit of meat he had wrapped in a napkin. He unwrapped the treat and held it out to the cat, who regarded him with a distinct lack of curiosity.

"It's roast beef," Harry said encouragingly.

The cat apparently decided Harry was potentially worth its notice. It got to its feet and sauntered over before stretching out its neck and sniffing the meat. Not surprisingly, it sniffed and turned away. Harry smiled and sat back on his haunches.

"Well, you're definitely a Malfoy cat," he said ruefully. "Too good for roast beef, eh? What do you eat? Maine Lobster? Russian caviar?" He Vanished the rejected treat with his wand and stood up. Before he could take a step, the cat moved closer and rubbed against one booted foot.

Harry blinked in surprise and then carefully reached down to stroke the grey fur. The cat turned back to bump its head against Harry's hand, so he patted it again. The animal was incredibly soft.

"Nice boy," Harry said quietly and stroked its head.

A few minutes later, Harry sat cross-legged on the floor with the cat sprawled across his legs, purring loudly while Harry's hand repeatedly rubbed over the soft fur. He had to smile as he realized no other animal had really taken to him before. Hedwig had seemed to like him, but owls were not exactly cuddly, soft pets. The cat was delightful, as well as apparently starved for affection, which was not surprising with Malfoy as a master.

"All right, you," he said. "If Malfoy comes in here and finds me patting his pet instead of working, he'll hex me into next week. Off you go, Cuddles."

He pushed the cat away and got to his feet. The animal looked at him reproachfully, no doubt expecting Harry to be a grooming pillow for the remainder of the day. He laughed.

"I'll pet you later. Time to work." With that, Harry turned back to the tigerwood wall and busied himself placing boards. He sighed, thinking it was much easier to demolish walls than it was to rebuild them.

He wondered what Malfoy was doing.

***

Draco sat before the huge desk in the study, dutifully taking care of the accounts, as his father had instructed. It was hellishly boring and his mind kept returning to the vision of Potter, dripping wet and looking like a delectable gift from Neptune.

Draco threw his quill aside in disgust. Why in the name of Salazar was he thinking of the bloody Chosen One as delectable? What the fuck was wrong with him? Had he really been shut up in the Manor long enough to make even Harry Potter seem attractive?

He sighed and admitted it was true. He had become a wretched shut-in, clinging to the loneliness of the familiar, safe Manor rather than brave the disapproval and derision that faced him in the outside world. Anti-Death Eater sentiments were the rage after the war, with the Malfoys' former acquaintances - sometimes even friends - being rounded up and placed on trial. Due to the surprisingly light sentences handed down to Draco's family, those receiving harsher penalties looked upon them with nearly as much disfavour as those who hated them for siding with the Dark Lord.

The Malfoys had found themselves alone in a sea of animosity, hence his parents' frequent trips out of the country. Draco had gone with them a number of times, but found himself feeling even more depressed when surrounded by strangers. He missed his home. He missed his friends. He missed his old life.

He stretched his legs out with a sigh and looked out the window. His old life was gone. Vince was dead. Greg had moved to Norway, or some Salazar-forsaken place, and Draco had not heard from him since. Pansy's parents had packed her up and shipped her to Beauxbatons for her final year of school. They had never left France; her letters to Draco had become sporadic and finally stopped altogether.

Blaise was still around, but he had tried so hard to ingratiate himself to the Ministry hierarchy that he no longer acknowledged Draco. It seemed to be working for him; his new career as an Unspeakable seemed to be going well. Draco resented him, but knew it was mostly because he simply missed the company.

He shoved the accounts away. Most of the tasks were boring, anyway, and consisted of double-checking the information sent by his father's solicitors in order to verify they weren't sending false data and trying to rob them blind. The Wizarding World might personally detest the Malfoys, but they never turned down their Galleons.

Draco sighed, feeling morose. He thought of Potter, upstairs doing Merlin-knew-what to his bedchamber, and decided he had better check on the man. Just to make certain he was doing it right, of course.

***

Potter was doing it wrong.

"What the hell is that?" Draco asked in a horrified tone.

"Crown moulding," the man replied as if speaking to a simpleton.

"It's white."

"I thought it would be a nice touch."

"That will teach you to think. What are you, an ignoramus?" Draco paused as Potter glared. "Never mind. The answer to that is obvious."

Potter flicked his wand angrily and the offending crown moulding simply... disappeared. Despite his annoyance, Draco was impressed. The former Auror might have no aesthetic sensibilities at all, but Draco could not deny his ability as a wizard.

"What do you prefer, then, your Lordship?" Potter snapped. The words were sarcastic, but they perked Draco up immensely.

"Certainly not crown moulding, and definitely not white," Draco replied. "Perhaps you should take a break."

Potter tugged at his hair again, leaving a smear of dust on his forehead, marring the famous scar. His shirt was on this time, much to Draco's unacknowledged disappointment, but the cuffs were dirty. He must have been physically hauling around the materials again.

"A break. Right." Potter's tone was dry.

"In fact, I suggest you go have a shower and put on something decent... which will obviously have to be something of mine, since you do not appear to own anything decent. We need to go shopping." Draco was nearly shocked at his own words, mirrored by Potter's gaping jaw, but he smiled in satisfaction. It felt right. He definitely needed to get out of the Manor and this was the perfect excuse.

"Shopping," Potter repeated as if wondering where Draco's sanity had gone.

"Yes, Potter. I need to replace the fountain statue and I would rather not face the anti-Malfoy attitude of the local statuary vendor, so you will be coming with me."

Potter frowned, but then nodded. "All right. I don't need your clothes, though. I'll just go back to the inn, shower, and change. It won't take me more than half an hour."

"The inn? You're staying at an inn?"

Potter nodded. "You didn't really think I was Apparating back and forth from London, did you?"

Draco hadn't really thought about it, but it disturbed him to think of Potter staying in a substandard local inn with lumpy beds and dreadful food. "Why don't you just stay here, Potter?" he blurted before his mind caught up to his mouth.

Potter seemed to have lost his power of speech. They stared at each other for long moments.

"There are sixteen empty bedrooms, Potter. If you stay here, you can work longer. Finish faster. You know." Draco felt a flush creeping into his cheeks and willed it away until Potter finally nodded.

"I suppose that would be practical," he said finally and Draco released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He was not sure what he would have done if Potter had refused, but it would have been another bloody rejection, for certain.

"Excellent. I suppose I can wait for you to return to the inn and fetch your things. I shall have Nimbly prepare the Black room for you."

Potter nodded again. "I'll be right back, then." He stepped around Draco, who felt strangely formal now that they were being civil to one another.

3 

Harry was still in shock when he reached the inn. He showered quickly, thankful that the task was automatic, because his thoughts were whirling. He would be staying at the Manor. Near Malfoy. Or probably not near Malfoy, because with sixteen spare bedrooms, it was likely he would be placed as far from Malfoy as possible. It was probable that Malfoy was even now regretting his decision.

Harry wondered what had prompted him to offer. His excuse that Harry would be able to work longer hours had sounded weak even to Harry's ears. He supposed it was possible that the blond was simply lonely. He knew the elder Malfoys were off on yet another vacation. Harry still met frequently with Ron and Hermione and the Malfoys' antics were a constant topic of conversation for Ron. He seemed to lap up the gossip columns on a regular basis, in the vain hope that something horrific would happen to the former Death Eaters.

Harry sorted through his lone bag and realized he had not a single outfit appropriate for an outing with Draco Malfoy. His clothing consisted of jeans and assorted t-shirts. He had not even brought a button-down.

After biting his lip for a moment, he decided Malfoy could wait a few more minutes while he hurried to the local clothiers. The town was Muggle with a scattering of Wizarding establishments, such as the inn, but for clothing either would suffice. Harry quickly selected a cream coloured cotton shirt flecked with dark brown speckles. It wasn't flashy, but looked slightly more formal than his t-shirts.

Paired with his nicest jeans, he thought he looked acceptable, so he Apparated back to the Manor with his bag in tow. One of the house-elves met him at the door and escorted him to his new quarters, the Black bedroom. Harry had expected a room entirely of black furnishings, morbid upholstery, and possibly ghouls, but he was pleasantly surprised. The place was tastefully furnished in a French provincial style, rife with ornate whitewashed wood and patterned velvet - mostly in shades of deep violet.

"This was Cygnus Black's favourite room," said a voice behind him and Harry covered his startled movement by tossing his bag onto the bed.

"It's very nice," he said politely as he turned toward Malfoy. "Thank you."

Malfoy shrugged. "Are you coming?" His eyes flitted over Harry, but he said nothing. Harry gave a mental sigh of relief, thankful that his attire did not merit derision, at any rate. "You will have to trust me to Side-Along Apparate, unless you know where Benton's Superior Statuary is located."

"I trust you," he said simply and blinked at the look that crossed Malfoy's features. The blond seemed astonished by his words, although it was quickly masked.

Malfoy stepped forward and held out his arm. "I can Apparate through the wards. No need to go outside. Ready?"

Harry nodded and steeled himself as he took a grip on Malfoy's bicep and leaned closer. Before he could take a breath, Malfoy spirited them away.

***

Benton's Superior Statuary was a maze. The place was massive, with statues, fountains, sections of walls, bizarre artworks, garden accents, birdbaths, and things that were completely unidentifiable cluttering up a ludicrous amount of acreage.

As soon as they walked through the front gates, a small wizard appeared with a delighted grin. He was a full foot shorter than Harry and nearly as round as he was tall, wearing robes of garish lemon yellow and a matching top hat. Harry thought he looked like an escapee from a carnival.

"Greetings, lovely customers!" he cried. "I am Samson Benton and I'm..." His happy voice trailed off when he caught sight of Malfoy and his eyes widened. They narrowed quickly and his welcoming smile thinned into a disapproving line. His eyes flicked to Harry and widened again. He stuttered, staring back and forth between the two of them, until he finally relocated his coherency. "Mr Potter!" he bellowed. Harry winced.

Benton dove forward and grabbed his hand to pump it enthusiastically. "How nice to see you! Welcome to my lowly shop. What can I do for you?"

Harry frowned to see Malfoy so firmly snubbed, but Malfoy said nothing and seemed to take it in stride. "Mr Malfoy is here to select a replacement statue for a fountain. I am here to make certain that he is treated like any other customer." For the first time, Harry was glad of his Auror training. The official, almost dangerous, tone of his voice made the colour drain from Benton's face and he looked nervously at Malfoy.

"Of course!" he squeaked. "Welcome, Mr Malfoy. I'm very glad to have your business, of course. Can I get you a cup of tea while you are browsing?"

"Certainly not," Malfoy said, but his eyes were locked with Harry's. "Just direct me to the proper section."

Harry smiled when the man resumed his babbling and waved Malfoy along. Harry trailed after them, admiring the flex of Malfoy's arse as he walked.

***

Draco followed the obsequious Benton, amazed at the man's change of attitude. The canary-clad salesman fairly oozed simpering helpfulness, all thanks to the bloody Saviour. Nevertheless, Draco could feel no animosity for Potter. Even though Benton's change of heart was completely faked, for one shining moment Potter had given Draco back a modicum of the respect he had grown up with. False though it was, Draco had always enjoyed the grovelling, sycophantic behaviour of underlings and salespersons.

"I will call you when I've made my choice," Draco said before long, tiring of the man despite his enjoyment. Fawning was lovely, but only in limited quantities.

Benton glanced at Potter, who must have given a wordless signal, because the man bowed and departed without a word.

Draco wandered through the maze of statuary, pausing now and again. A unicorn caught his eye and he studied it briefly, suddenly transported back in time, recalling the dark Forest, a dead unicorn, a horrific monster, and Harry Potter.

Draco glanced at Potter, who stared up at the horned animal with his brow wrinkled. Was he remembering, as well?

Draco moved on, and laughed at Potter's suggestion to purchase a majestic lion.

"You can think of me every time you see it," Potter insisted.

"If I wanted to think of you, I would purchase the likeness of a horse's arse, Potter." Draco chuckled at his own wit and yelped when Potter's Stinging Hex caught him on the left buttock. "Ouch! Prat!"

"You deserved that," Potter muttered.

Draco snorted and kept looking, although he was slightly more careful with his insults after that.

Draco walked nimbly along the edge of a high wall made of decorative red stone. "Do you have this material in your garden, Potter? It practically screams Gryffindor."

Potter frowned and shaded his eyes to stare up at him. "Will you get down from there? You are going to fall. Do you think you are still seventeen?"

"Hmph. I've been locked up in the damned house for far too long. If I want to walk on the top of a wall, I shall. Besides, I can see better from up here. It will save time." To emphasize his improved ocular abilities due to his increased elevation, Draco stood on his tiptoes - and promptly toppled straight off the wall.

Potter, ever the idiot, tried to catch him rather than casting a spell. Draco landed on him and knocked him flat. He thought that he might have knocked Potter completely out, due to the blue pallor of his face, but a choked gasp told him the breath had simply been forced from the Gryffindor's lungs.

"Breathe, Potter," Draco said worriedly, staring down into Potter's handsome face. His glasses seemed to have flown off somewhere.

"That... might be easier without you crushing me," Potter rasped.

"Crushing you?" Draco repeated huffily. "I beg your pardon. I am not that heavy."

"And what did I tell you about climbing on the wall?" Potter sounded like a chastising parent even though his pained gasps.

"It's your fault I fell. You jinxed me."

Instead of taking offence to Draco's ridiculous comment, Potter's face broke into a grin and then he started to chuckle. "Malfoy, you are a piece of work."

Draco pouted, not sure if Potter had meant the statement as an insult. He debated getting to his feet, but Potter made quite a nice cushion and Draco had never been so close to him before. His lashes were unbelievably long and thick, black as midnight and almost shocking against the green of his pupils.

"You also have very pretty eyes," Potter said, voicing Draco's thoughts, and then Potter fluttered his dark lashes like a lovesick maiden. Draco couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. Potter joined in and they were soon giggling like idiots. Draco felt weak from the effort of holding his head up while laughter shook his frame, so he dropped his face against Potter's neck, feeling a jolt as his lips met bare flesh where Potter's collar pulled away from his throat.

Potter's arms wrapped around him, stifling Draco's amusement completely. He was suddenly hyperaware of Potter's nearness. His senses were flooded with sensation - the warmth of Potter's body, the smell of his hair and his skin, the taste of him against Draco's lips... He realized that his right thigh lay quite suggestively between Potter's legs, and his groin rested firmly atop Potter's hipbone.

Potter's chuckles died out more slowly and time seemed to drag into an infinite loop. The heat of Potter's arms burned against Draco's back, making him alternately want to stay where he was forever, or flee for his life.

"Have you decided to go to sleep, then?" Potter asked lightly. "Was that your ulterior motive for knocking me down? A convenient place to nap?"

Draco snickered again. Damn it all, he had never expected Potter to be funny. Still, disturbing things were beginning to happen to his body, things that would be utterly mortifying should Potter take note of them.

Draco pushed himself away suddenly, breaking Potter's light grip and climbing unsteadily to his feet. Potter blinked up at him and Draco rolled his eyes before bending down to offer him a hand. Potter took it and Draco hauled him to his feet before stooping to recover the Gryffindor's glasses.

Potter grinned at him. "Thanks." He dusted the spectacles by yanking the hem of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, exposing a ludicrous amount of firm abdomen in the process. Draco forced his eyes upward to meet Potter's smirk. "I think you broke my spine," Potter commented.

"Infant," Draco replied as the corners of his mouth twitched.

Potter turned around and gave Draco a view of his arse as he craned his neck around, trying to see behind himself. "See? I'm sure it's bent."

Draco snorted another laugh, and then gave in to another round of amused chuckles. "Something is bent, Potter, but it's not your spine."

Potter pouted at him. Combined with the near-sultry over-the-shoulder look, it almost took Draco's breath away. Dangerous ground, Draco thought. Treading dangerous ground here. Despite his internal warning bells, he stepped forward and began to smack Potter's arse.

"Hey!" Potter yelped.

"You are covered in dirt," Draco explained and finished batting away the clinging twigs and dust from Potter's backside. He told himself he was not at all interested in how Potter's arse felt (nicely firm), nor how it looked (exquisite), but was rather behaving in a friendly manner, and only because he didn't want to be seen in the company of someone so dishevelled. He stepped back and surveyed Potter critically. "I suppose you'll do. Come along, we have many more statues to reject."

It wasn't until he had taken twenty steps that he realized he could have simply cast a Cleaning Charm on the man.

***

Harry followed Malfoy through the maze of statues with a bemused grin on his face. Their interaction since arriving at Benton's had been... surprising. Was Malfoy really so grateful for Harry's chastisement of the irritating clerk that he was willing to act like a normal person, rather than an obnoxious prat?

The thought made him pause. He hadn't realized the extent of the animosity directed toward the Malfoys and other former Death Eaters since the war. Or perhaps he had realized it, he simply hadn't cared. In fact, he had probably considered it their just reward for being on the wrong side.

Seeing Malfoy's behaviour made him feel ashamed of his former vindictive thoughts. If Malfoy was this happy simply to be walking through a statuary shop, he had to have been pent up in the Manor for an unbelievably long time. And where had all of Malfoy's friends gone? Harry had seen Blaise Zabini around the Ministry now and again, but he had never heard a word uttered about the Slytherin's former cohorts.

Malfoy had always seemed like a privileged prince at Hogwarts, holding court over his classmates. Without them, he had to be dreadfully lonely.

Malfoy stopped before the rearing unicorn. "I think I want this one," he said decisively, surprising Harry.

"Really? A unicorn? I thought you would want the dragon, or the manticore."

Malfoy shook his head. "The dragon's wings are too short. And the manticore is too leonine. Tell Benton this is the one I want. Have it shipped to the front gates of the Manor. I assume you will be able to manoeuvre it from there?"

Harry considered the statue and then nodded.

"Good. I would rather not give the delightful Mr Benton access through my wards, even for a moment. I wouldn't want him tainted." He sneered, but Harry was no longer fooled by Malfoy's arrogant exterior. Something had changed, it seemed, something that allowed him to see beneath the sarcasm to the hurt below.

"All right," Harry said quietly. "I'll meet you back there, yeah?"

Malfoy nodded and Disapparated.

4 

Harry dropped the statue into the dry pool and spent several long minutes turning the bloody thing by minute degrees until the blond prat finally decided it was in the correct position. The exercise nearly made Harry take back the kind thoughts he had directed toward Malfoy earlier. The bloody thing was heavy and required some fancy spellwork to lift and adjust.

Harry was drenched with sweat by the time the blond was satisfied.

"Perfect!" he said finally and cast a spell. Water immediately surrounded the unicorn in a magical dome, pouring down in sheets as though hitting an invisible umbrella, with brief gaps now and then that disclosed the statue. The effect was quite beautiful.

"Excellent work, Potter. I am famished. Perhaps you should go clean up before dinner? I will do the same and meet you in the dining room in... twenty minutes?"

Harry plucked at his damp t-shirt and nodded, somewhat surprised that Malfoy intended them to dine together. He had expected Malfoy to revert to his usual behaviour once back in the familiar surroundings of the Manor.

He returned to his new quarters and located a stunning bath chamber through an attached door. This room really was black - mainly silver-veined black marble. The pool-sized tub was already filled with hot water and Harry wasted no time disrobing and walking into the heated depths.

Careful experimentation with a multitude of faucets allowed him to locate a tropical-scented shampoo and he liberally lathered his hair. Finding a suitable body wash was more difficult due to the variety - apparently Malfoys enjoyed spending an endless amount of time choosing - but he eventually found one he liked and scrubbed himself while he thought about a certain blond.

He remembered Malfoy's weight on him and the glint of amusement in the silvery eyes. It had taken all of Harry's willpower not to embarrass himself. Thinking about it now, it was a relief to finally give in to the fierce attraction. His cock was more than a bit hard and he stroked it under the guise of washing. He wished he dared to wank, but he knew time was of the essence and he preferred to savour every moment of the fantasy he knew he would conjure later.

He left off self-gratification and instead finished his bath and returned to his clothing. He frowned at the cream-coloured shirt and realized he should have purchased another. Dining with Malfoy seemed to require more than a t-shirt, but his new button-up was soiled with sweat.

"Are you a wizard or not?" he growled to himself and cast a strong Cleaning Charm on the offending garment. He shook it, pleased to note he hadn't destroyed any buttons that time, and then tried a variety of Charms that had seemed foolish when he had learned them in his fourth year at Hogwarts.

His eighth attempt at a Colour Changing Charm succeeded in turning the shirt green - albeit an imperfect green slightly muddled with darker shades - and he shrugged it on. He had been trying for blue, but the colour had been resistant.

He hurried into the dining room hoping he was not too late and stopped dead at the sight of Blaise Zabini standing before the fireplace next to Malfoy. The two Slytherins were glaring daggers at each other. Zabini's brown eyes slid to Harry and he frowned.

"So, it is true!" Zabini snapped, looking disgusted.

Harry looked at Malfoy uncertainly and wondered if he should leave.

"You've gone too far this time, Draco. The Ministry will have your head."

"What are you on about, Blaise?" Malfoy snapped. "Why are you even here? You haven't so much as sent me an owl in over a year."

"I'm here because the press is camped outside your front gates, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I noticed. I simply don't care."

"You don't care?" Zabini's voice was derisive. "You don't care that they are blaming you for Harry Potter leaving the Ministry? You don't care that they think he is under some sort of Imperius Curse?"

Harry gaped at him and Malfoy sneered. "No. Why should I care about their ridiculous lies?"

"Are they lies, Draco?" Zabini turned to Harry and held up his hand in entreaty. "Harry. Are you all right? Are you under some sort of spell? Did Draco put you up to this? Why did you leave the Auror Division?"

"What?" Harry asked intelligently, taken aback to hear Blaise Zabini addressing him by his first name as though they were old friends.

Zabini threw a glare at Draco. "Shit. It's worse than I thought. Are you keeping him under a Confundus?"

Malfoy's face looked as if he'd been slapped. Harry suddenly ached for him, remembering how he had felt when Ron had turned on him during the Triwizard Tournament. How much worse would it be for Malfoy, when Zabini had abandoned him months ago?

Harry finally found his voice and drew himself up haughtily. "Are you insinuating that I am here under some sort of duress?" He stressed the last word, making it sound as absurd as it was.

Zabini stopped his march toward Harry, seeming suddenly uncertain. "Well, it seemed likely. There were photos circulated of you and Draco at a statuary shop, of all places. It was ridiculous. You leave the Ministry with barely a word and now you turn up in the company of a former Death Eater? I'm sorry, but it smacks of dodgy spellwork."

Harry felt a flare of rage. "A former Death Eater? Really? Are you not aware that the Malfoys saved my life during the war? Is it not public knowledge, which I disclosed at the very public trial, that without these former Death Eaters I would be dead and Voldemort would be very much alive? Frankly, I find your slander disgraceful, especially considering that your parents' involvement in the war was not quite above board, now was it?" Harry's voice was a low purr, barely hinting at his tightly leashed anger.

Zabini glared. "My family was never on the side of the Dark Lord!"

"No, nor were they on the side of the Order. They managed to keep themselves nicely neutral and thereby avoided the stigma of being servants of Voldemort after the war. Convenient, that." Harry flushed slightly, realizing that he had been guilty of propagating that stigma. If only he had seen how much damage it had done. It was his job to heal the wounds left by Voldemort, not add to them. He glanced at Malfoy and then looked away in shame. Malfoy looked stunned.

"My family does not blindly follow the leadership of others," Zabini snapped.

"Nor do they take a stand," Harry growled. "Except, apparently, against those they once called friends."

Zabini's eyes narrowed. "You are here under your own free will, then?"

"I am. And I intend to stay until the job is done. Mal - Draco has hired me to do a job and I plan to do it to the best of my ability, regardless of what anyone outside these walls might think. I am not under the Imperius Curse, or a Confundus, or a Memory Charm, or any other damned spell. I am here by my own free will and I would appreciate everyone leaving me the hell alone."

Zabini inhaled sharply at his words and then nodded his head. "My apologies."

"I'm not the one deserving an apology," Harry said in an iron tone.

Zabini glared, but turned back to Malfoy. "I am sorry, Draco."

Malfoy's jaw twitched where he obviously clenched it too tightly, but he finally nodded curtly. "Just go," he said.

Zabini walked to the fireplace and Flooed out.

Harry scowled. "Wait a tick, I thought you said you weren't hooked up to the Floo Network any longer!"

Malfoy glared at him. "Apparently Blaise is important enough to command an emergency connection. I plan to have it terminated tomorrow."

Harry nodded, although he thought briefly about talking Malfoy out of such a rash act. Being cut off from the rest of the Wizarding World... Well, Harry had not missed it, but he suspected Malfoy did.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Before Harry could react to the single word, Malfoy hurried to the dining table and sat down. Harry was suddenly glad he had taken the extra time with his wardrobe, because Malfoy would not have looked out of place at a fancy Ministry function. Harry pushed away the notion that Malfoy looked delectable.

A house-elf appeared at Malfoy's elbow. "Do sit down, Potter. We will begin with a bottle of Chateaux de Deschanel; the '69, I think. And you may serve now."

Harry made his way to the table and sat down across from Malfoy, who smiled as the house-elf popped out, only to return a moment later with two glasses and a dusty bottle. Harry fixed his eyes on the movements as the house-elf Levitated the bottle, removed the cork, and expertly filled the goblets to the halfway point. It kept him from staring at Malfoy - barely.

His eyes were drawn to him, anyway, when Malfoy lifted his glass in a pale hand and held it beneath his nose to sniff the aroma. Malfoy's throat flexed as he drank and Harry took the opportunity to let his eyes slide over the pale skin revealed by the open-necked shirt Malfoy wore. A silver chain gleamed against his collarbone, holding a pendant of some sort. The colour nearly matched the soft silver-grey of the shirt he wore.

Malfoy lowered the glass and Harry snatched up his own goblet. He took a gulp and set it down before meeting Malfoy's amused smirk. Harry forced a smile. "It's good," he said lamely.

Surprisingly, Malfoy did not call him an "uncultured lout", or worse, but simply looked away as several house-elves popped in with various platters and plates. Harry should not have been surprised at the amount and variety of food, but he was. The courses seemed endless - soup, fish, fowl, beef, pasta, salad, and finally, dessert.

Harry sat back with a groan after two bites of the decadent chocolate custard. "I can't force down another morsel. Do you always eat this way?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I usually make do with a sandwich, but I was showing off."

Harry laughed. "Well, the meal was impressive. Thank you. You don't need to feed me, though. I can eat in town."

"Nonsense, Potter. I find that I prefer even your odious company to eating alone."

"What happened to... all your other friends?" Harry asked, feeling another pang of sympathy, but trying not to show it. Zabini's hostility had made him curious.

Malfoy shrugged and looked at his goblet. "They drifted away. So. Why did you leave the Ministry? I thought you would be an Auror forever."

Harry took another gulp of his wine. He felt slightly tipsy from the three glasses he had consumed, even though the rich food helped to counter the effects of the alcohol. "It wasn't what I expected, being an Auror."

"Not enough big evil to fight?"

"Not enough any evil to fight," Harry admitted wryly. He frowned as he remembered the final straw that had propelled him out of the Ministry forever. He had been dedicated to his job, to the very idea that there was still good versus evil, and that he was on the side of light, fighting for the rights of the downtrodden and the victimized.

What he had learned was that petty crime and domestic disputes were not the same as fighting Voldemort and Death Eaters. He had become something of a joke in the Auror Department. Any time a call had come in that even hinted of action, the other Aurors had laughingly sent him out. Harry had quickly discovered that breaking up arguments and bar fights was hardly the same as chasing down murderers.

"The papers were filled with articles when you left. Rampant speculation."

Harry nodded. He dared not admit the last incident to Malfoy. He had been sent to investigate an alleged illegal potions ring at a gambling establishment. Harry had gone in with wand drawn and Auror badge gleaming - only to find himself in a brothel confronting a naked, and very mortified, group of Ministry officials. Harry could have survived the cover-up, but the jokes of his co-workers had been more than he could bear. After two weeks of "going to go shake down a hooker, Harry? Maybe you'll catch the Minister himself with his pants down this time, eh?" Harry had called it quits.

"I guess I'm just not cut out to battle petty crime. I'd rather feel like I'm doing something useful," he said.

"Like knocking down walls and setting up statues?"

Harry grimaced. "I suppose it sounds stupid. Maybe the press has it right. Maybe, after fighting Voldemort, being an Auror just wasn't challenging enough. I suppose that sounds egocentric, yes?"

"I've always thought you were egocentric, Potter. But since when do you care what I think?"

Harry considered the blond carefully and pondered the question. Oddly, he really did care what Malfoy thought, which was a change. Did he care only because of his newly discovered attraction? Or was it something deeper?

"Since today, apparently."

"Why?" Malfoy seemed surprised at Harry's admission.

He shrugged, trying to make light of the situation rather than examine his motives too closely. "I figure anyone with such an adorable pet can't be all bad. Where is your cat, by the way?"

"My cat?" Malfoy blinked at him.

Harry nodded. "It was watching me earlier. In your room. I assumed it was yours."

"Oh. That cat. Right."

"Does it have a name?"

"I call it The Cat," Malfoy said with a deadpan expression.

Harry stifled a laugh when he realized he wasn't sure whether or not Malfoy was serious. "Really? Well, that's a terrible name for a cat. I think I'll stick with Cuddles."

Inexplicably, Malfoy flushed. "Call it what you will, Potter. I think I'll retire now. Feel free to wander about the house, although I advise you to leave closed doors closed. Some of my parents' rooms are better left unexplored."

Harry nodded, having no intention of wandering around the Manor unsupervised. With his luck, he would end up in some sort of magical trap and never be seen again. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Goodnight, Potter."

5 

The cat returned as Harry was preparing for bed. Harry tugged his tartan pyjama bottoms over his pants and slipped between the expensive sheets. The bed was the most comfortable thing he'd been on for quite some time.

"Here, Cuddles," he called as he settled back against the pillows.

The cat made his way to the bed and hopped lightly onto the blankets near Harry's feet. He paused there for a moment as if weighing whether or not Harry was worthy of his presence. Harry put out a hand encouragingly and the animal finally continued forward until he stood in range of Harry's fingers.

Harry stroked the top of his head lightly and smiled when the cat leaned into his touch.

"Pretty kitty," he said quietly.

It seemed to be the right thing to say. Soon Cuddles lay atop Harry's chest, purring loudly as Harry's hands caressed him in long strokes from the top of his head to the base of his tail.

"Your master must not give you enough attention," Harry commented. "Or do you belong to one of his parents?" Harry snorted. "Then again, I can't see either of them paying you a lot of mind, either. What's a pretty cat like you doing in a place like this?"

The cat stopped purring abruptly and Harry tickled it beneath the chin.

"Then again, it's a very nice house, isn't it? I don't imagine there are any mice for you to chase, but there are likely plenty of dark cubbies for you to hide in, yes? And if Draco is your master... well, I suspect he might have a soft side under that prickly exterior."

Harry pushed his fingers into the soft fur around the cat's neck and scratched until the purring started again. Harry thought it might be nice to have a cuddly pet. Now he knew why Hermione was so attached to Crookshanks, although her cat had never seemed to be particularly affectionate. Cuddles certainly was. He seemed more than happy to perch on Harry's chest and stay there until Harry tired of petting him.

"I should ask if Malfoy will let you come home with me," Harry mused. "It might be nice to have some company now and again." Harry frowned and thought about his empty house for the first time in a long time. Most of the time he enjoyed his solitude, but sometimes he had to admit it was quite lonely.

As if alarmed by the thought of Harry kidnapping him, the cat sat up and pulled out of Harry's grasp. It jumped gracefully to the floor and slinked to the door - which Harry had left open a crack in case the feline decided to visit - and departed.

"Goodnight, Cuddles," Harry called and then smiled at himself for talking to an animal.

When the cat had gone, Harry doused the lights and settled in, but after tossing and turning for what seemed hours, he acknowledged that he couldn't sleep. He wasn't sure if the bed was too large or the room too quiet, or if he simply couldn't get Draco Malfoy out of his mind, but he finally sat up and tugged on some clothing. He didn't bother to put on his shoes and he padded downstairs quietly, making it halfway down the stairs before a house-elf popped up next to him and nearly startled him out of a year of his life. He clutched at the railing to keep from tumbling down the stairs and glared at the floppy-eared creature.

"Mr Potter is requesting something?" it asked politely.

"No," Harry snapped. "I just can't sleep and thought I would do some work in the dining room while I'm awake." He had chosen the room because it was far enough from Malfoy's bedchamber that any noise he made would hopefully not awaken the blond.

The house-elf nodded soberly. "Please to be calling Rugly if you is to be wanting something."

Harry assured him (or her?) that he would and continued on to the dining room where another rude shock awaited him. He realized he should have stayed in bed.

*****

"Potter. What brings you here? Still sniffing around the Malfoys? Nothing better to do?" Snape's voice was the same as it had ever been, even though it now emanated from the dark wood of a picture frame. Harry scowled at the hook-nosed visage.

"Actually, I'm working for Draco."

Snape's mouth twisted in a familiar sneer. "I find that hard to believe."

Harry shrugged and turned his attention to the fireplace beneath Snape's portrait. It had been empty earlier and Harry had wondered to whom it belonged. He wished he still wondered. "I don't really care what you believe any more." He had to bite his tongue on the word Sir and then felt a moment of guilt for his flare of annoyance. The man was dead, after all.

"In what capacity?" Snape asked.

Harry pointed his wand at the stones of the fireplace and cast a localized Silencing Charm before adding a Reducto. A portion of the mantle exploded, sending rubble flying. Harry glanced toward the dining table and figured he had better move the furniture lest it all become covered in dust and pelted with stones.

"What do you think you're doing?" Snape demanded.

Harry grinned at him. "I'm demolishing the fireplace," he said simply.

"Have you finally gone mad?"

"Some people think so," Harry admitted and shoved the dining table and chairs into a far corner of the room with a single spell. He did the same with a nearby sideboard and the decorative urns.

"Where is Draco?" Snape demanded.

"In bed, most likely," Harry replied and then cast a Shield Charm over all of the furniture, just in case. When that was done, he turned his attention back to the fireplace and began to demolish it in earnest. "Oops, sorry," he said when a rock chip flew up and bounced off of Snape's frame, earning a round of curses. "I suppose I should move you, too, yes?"

He reached up and manhandled the portrait down, ignoring the commentary that consisted of choice insults and unflattering opinions regarding Harry's level of intelligence. By the time he set the portrait down near the dining table, Snape had gone.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to his task.

*****

Draco rolled over and sat up, wondering what had awakened him, a question that was quickly answered.

"You sleep like the dead, boy. I repeat, what the hell is the bloody Chosen One doing destroying the dining room? Your mother will have your head."

Draco glared at Snape, who looked somewhat out of place standing in the delicate seascape that graced Draco's wall. "What time is it? And what are you talking about?"

"I don't care what time it is. Time is irrelevant to me now," Snape said in a condescending tone and Draco cast a Tempus Charm.

"It's barely past midnight!" Draco yelped.

Snape waved a hand lazily. "Be that as it may, I thought you should know that Potter has gone mad."

Draco sighed and cursed the day the dearly departed Potion's Master had taken an interest in Draco's life, although admittedly only on rare occasions. Draco suspected he spent most of his time in his portrait at Hogwarts annoying the other former Headmasters.

"Potter is downstairs now?" he asked.

"As I said, he is destroying the dining room."

"Only the fireplace, I hope."

"His presence is no surprise then?"

"It's a bit of a surprise that he is working at this hour, but I did hire him to do some renovations. Even though he is rather shite at some of it. His decorating sense is atrocious, but he's quite good at moving things around." Draco nearly salivated at the memory of Potter nonchalantly moving the unicorn statue to his specifications. Draco admitted - only to himself - that he had spent more time watching Potter's features knit in concentration than he had watching the placement of the artwork.

"Renovations? You hired the Ministry's Golden Figurehead to do renovations?"

"He doesn't work for the Ministry any longer," Draco said and slid out of bed to pull on his dressing gown and slippers, deciding it was prudent to check on Potter. "Where have you been not to know that?"

"Argentina," Snape replied. "Don't ask."

Draco did not plan to. He was more interested in hurrying downstairs and not in order to determine whether or not Potter was fully clothed.

*****

As it turned out, Potter was not. Severus had been correct - he was quite busy demolishing the fireplace. Stones and dust were everywhere. Draco's heart nearly stopped at the sight of the man. He wore only a pair of jeans that seemed to ride obscenely low on his hips - and nothing else.

"Potter, what the fuck are - ?" Draco was alarmed to find that his voice sounded not at all normal, but Potter did not seem to notice as he whirled around with a horrified expression.

"Shit, Draco, look out!"

With that, Potter launched himself forward and slammed into Draco, bearing him backward onto the fine Persian carpet just as a muffled whoosh sounded behind them. Stones flew everywhere, pinging around them and sliding away from Potter's wordlessly cast Shield Charm.

"Sorry about that," Potter murmured. "I didn't see you there."

Draco wanted to complain. He wanted to be annoyed about being awakened in the middle of the night by annoying portraits and foolish ex-Aurors, and about nearly being killed by flying stones, but for some reason he could only stare into Potter's apologetic green eyes and think that being crushed by him was not a bad experience.

"I was trying not to awaken you," Potter continued and Draco realized there was something wrong with Potter's scar. He reached up to touch it and found it marred with a streak of dirt. Potter's eyes widened at the gesture.

Draco was suddenly aware of Potter's body, all lean, muscular, half-naked, dusty masculinity, draped over him like a protective blanket. Perched between Draco's open legs, actually. Draco wiped the dust from Potter's scar with his thumb and allowed his fingers to stray - just the tiniest bit - into Potter's thick hair. It was deliciously soft.

"You called me Draco," he said inanely, although it seemed appropriate, because Potter was staring at him as though he'd done something particularly shocking.

"Draco," Potter said somewhat breathlessly and Draco decided he really was a powerful wizard, because something in the mere tone of his voice caused Draco to push his fingers deeper into Potter's hair and pull his head down until their lips met.

It was chaste enough to begin with, just the gentle pressure of lips against lips, warm and not-quite-wet. They held the pose for long moments, as if tensely expecting the other to pull away. When that did not happen, Draco felt Potter press harder, turning his head slightly and sucking with gentle pressure, deepening the kiss.

To say Draco was surprised was an understatement, both by his own behaviour and the fact that not only was the World's Saviour not shoving him away in disgust, but was actually kissing him back! Unwilling to let such an opportunity slide, Draco parted his lips.

Ever the Gryffindor, Potter did not hesitate. He immediately slipped his tongue inside and began to plunder Draco's mouth. Draco thought he might combust when Potter's long, slow strokes caressed the length of his tongue, exploring the top, sides, and even the sensitive underside. Draco should have felt violated, but instead he simply felt consumed, as though Potter found his flavour to be the headiest thing on earth.

Draco gasped for breath when Potter ceased his assault. It wasn't until then that Draco realized there had been an unforeseen consequence to Potter's attention. His groin ached and the pressure of his cock against Potter's hip was almost too much to bear. He felt the sudden urge to thrust upward, to rub himself against Potter, seeking delicious friction to ease the torment.

He gasped when he felt an answering hardness. Salazar, Potter was just as turned on. Possibly more, if the hands in Draco's hair were any indication, and the fact that Potter's glasses had fallen off and caught in the locks near Draco's forehead.

"Merlin, do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" Potter asked huskily, sending a jolt through Draco at the implication.

"How long?" Draco managed, although the words came out in a dry croak.

"Well, all of today for certain," Potter said. "And quite a few times yesterday. Before that, sporadically since first year."

"First year?" Draco burst out, until he caught sight of Potter and realized the man was joking.

"Well, if not that long, then I was stupid," Potter said. "Let's get back to it, shall we?"

With that, the surprisingly intelligent Gryffindor bent his head and resumed the delicious tracing of the inside of Draco's mouth.

6 

Harry thought he might be dreaming. He considered pinching himself, but in order to do that he would have to remove his hands from the soft strands of Draco's hair, which was not an option.

He could not remember feeling aroused to the point of physical pain in a dream before, which was a point in favour of the situation being real, and yet the fact that Draco Malfoy was not only delightfully pliant beneath him, but was also kissing him back and rocking his hips slightly, enough for Harry to realize that it wouldn't take much more stimulation before he -

He broke the kiss suddenly and reared up to look down at Draco. The sight was riveting and he nearly forgot the words he meant to say. Draco was flushed and his hair was a mess - Harry's glasses were snagged in the platinum strands - and his eyes were luminescent.

"Draco, we shouldn't - " Harry began.

The grey eyes widened and then shutters seemed to crash down and hide all emotion as his wet lips twisted. Harry recognized the expression immediately and his heart spasmed.

"I mean, we should!" he corrected quickly. "We most certainly should! Just... not here. Not here in the dust and rubble, with Snape watching us."

"I am not watching you!" the former Potions Master snapped. "I am staring at you in speechless horror." Draco craned his head to look over at the portrait propped at an odd angle against the dining table. "Although I must say I saw it coming during your fifth year. You two are both dreadfully slow. I am going to Hogwarts."

With that, Snape disappeared from the frame.

Harry looked back at Draco, who stared at him. "Fifth year?" he whispered.

"We have some catching up to do?" Harry suggested hopefully. He disentangled his glasses from Draco's hair and replaced them on his face before he pushed away from Draco's warmth. He got to his feet before taking both of Draco's hands and hoisting him up. He was somewhat afraid that clarity of thought might return with verticality, so he straightened the lapels of Draco's dressing gown and then pulled him close for another kiss.

Apparently, Draco was still willing, thank Merlin, for he leaned into the kiss and curled his fingers around Harry's forearms as if holding him in place. Snape's brief appearance had not dampened Harry's desire a single iota.

"Where should we go?" Harry asked.

"My bedroom," Draco replied. He pulled away and then slipped one hand down to grip Harry's hand before leading him out. Harry looked at their clasped hands - one tanned and one pale - and thought he had never been happier just holding someone's hand.

On the stairs, Draco looked back once, as if to reassure himself that Harry was still willing, and Harry gave him an encouraging smile. Draco's fingers tightened for a moment, and then they entered Draco's sitting room, where stacks of tigerwood gave mute testament to Harry's incomplete work.

Draco paid it no mind, continuing straight into the bedchamber where he released Harry's hand. He turned to face him, looking suddenly shy and not at all the arrogant Malfoy. Harry raised a hand and cupped the side of Draco's face before leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"I should bathe," Harry commented, regretting that he felt somewhat gritty with residual dust.

Draco chuckled. "As interesting as that concept sounds right now, I don't think I want to wait that long."

Harry let out a delighted sigh. "Good."

With that, he released the sash of Draco's dressing gown and eased it gently from his shoulders. It fell to the floor in a soft whisper and Harry's eyes drank in the sight of Draco's bare torso for the first time. If Draco had chest hair, it was so pale as to be invisible. His nipples were tiny pink dots. Lickable pink dots.

Harry put his hands up and laid them lightly on Draco's collarbones before trailing them down over the smooth skin. His thumbs brushed over the tiny nubs and they hardened immediately.

"Merlin," Harry breathed. "You're so incredibly gorgeous."

It seemed to be the right thing to say. Draco let out a sigh, as if he had been holding his breath, and relaxed into Harry's hands. Harry realized that even now Draco did not fully trust him and probably feared it was some sort of cruel joke on his part.

He let his hands roam gently over Draco's skin as he pressed light kisses over his face, trying to reassure him without words. He felt Draco's fingers on the waistband of his jeans and had never been so thankful for the urge to go barefoot as the material fell to his ankles, allowing him to step out of them.

"You're not wearing pants," Draco whispered, sounding somewhat shocked.

Harry's lips curved into a smile against Draco's temple. Part of the reason he had left the bed was to avoid the urge to wank himself raw, knowing it would not be satisfying.

"Are you?" he asked, rather than explain. He dropped his hands to Draco's amazing arse, slipping his hands beneath the silk material of the pyjama bottoms in order to do so. He felt a moment of reverent awe at being allowed such a liberty before he pushed the fabric down completely.

He shut his eyes for a moment and felt the muscles beneath his hands flex as Draco lifted each foot free. Harry opened his eyes to drink in Draco's nudity; it nearly took his breath away. Draco's flat abdomen led to jutting hipbones that Harry suddenly needed to touch, so he slid his hands up and curved his fingers over them, feeling the hardness against his palms as he stared at Draco's cock. For such a slender man, Harry had expected it to be thinner, but it was impressively, perfectly proportioned, much like Draco himself. It twitched slightly under Harry's perusal and he glanced up to see Draco watching him.

Harry licked his lips and vaguely hoped his own nudity met with Draco's approval, but he pushed the thought aside as he lowered himself to his knees.

"What are you doing?" Draco murmured in a surprised tone.

"What I've wanted to do all day," Harry replied and licked Draco's lovely prick from base to tip.

Draco's hands were suddenly clutching Harry's hair and his ragged gasp sounded loud in the room. Harry repeated the motion and smiled in satisfaction when it earned a breathy moan. His fingers tightened on Draco's hipbones and he took the entire length of Draco's cock into his mouth, relaxing his throat in order to take it as deeply as possible.

"Salazar!" Draco yelped.

Harry withdrew and chuckled. "No, just Harry, remember?"

"Just Harry," Draco repeated, sounding somewhat dazed. "Fuck."

"Fabulous idea," Harry murmured and pushed Draco backward gently until he fell back upon the bed. Harry lifted himself off the floor and crawled onto the bed as Draco wriggled toward the headboard. The bed was massive, giving Harry several wicked ideas about how he would like to utilize so much space.

He started by climbing over Draco to look down at him, allowing every lustful thought he'd ever had to show in his eyes as Draco reached up to remove his glasses.

"Can you see?" Draco asked as he set them on the edge of the bed.

"I've already got you memorized," Harry admitted. "And if I get lost, I'll just feel my way, like this." He wrapped a hand around Draco's damp cock. "At some point, I would love to commit to memory the taste of every inch of your skin, but I don't think I'll last long if I attempt it right now."

Draco arched into Harry's touch with a moan and Harry believed the blond wouldn't last long, either.

"Lubricant," Draco said huskily and apparently there was an Accio beneath it, because a glass vial popped into his hand from the bedside table drawer. Draco pulled the cork with his teeth and spit it across the bed before liberally dousing Harry's busy hand with the slick substance. A subtle scent rose around them, reminiscent of the sweet cakes Aunt Petunia used to bake for Dudley.

"What is this?" Harry asked as he lengthened his strokes to include Draco's testicles and moving even lower to caress the delicate flesh around his pucker.

"My own..." Draco gasped and arched again, opening his legs wider to allow Harry better access, which might have been the hottest moment of Harry's entire life. "My own concoction."

"It smells delicious."

"It's edible," Draco added.

"You are a genius."

Draco's cheeks, already slightly rosy, went even pinker and a delighted smile curved his lips before they opened in a gasp as Harry inserted a single fingertip.

Harry went still, staring intently into Draco's wide eyes. "Have you ever...?"

Draco shook his head. "Only my own."

Only his own. The thought of Draco inserting his fingers into himself nearly made Harry come right there. He had to shut his eyes, swallow hard, and think about Hungarian Horntails until the moment passed.

Draco moved and his body pulled Harry's finger even further into the welcome heat. Harry pushed it slowly in and out, spreading the slick lubricant thoroughly.

"More," Draco said hoarsely.

Harry obeyed, pushing in a second finger, and eventually a third. Draco's responsive movements and delightful sounds were beyond brilliant.

"Harry," he said thickly and Harry recognized the need beneath the word.

"Draco, I need to be inside you."

"Yes," Draco said and hissed the last letter.

Harry removed his fingers and guided the head of his cock to the spot vacated by his fingers. "This might... this might hurt."

Draco's eyes softened and he lifted both hands to Harry's face to pull him into a kiss. The gesture was so unexpected that Harry felt something loosen in his chest and he realized he would have a hard time leaving Draco, whether tonight or tomorrow, or whenever. He should probably stop this before it began, but the feel of Draco's lips and his warm breath and delicious body made rational behaviour impossible.

Unable to wait any longer, Harry pushed forward, breaching the tight muscles and feeling Draco clench around him.

"Sorry," Harry breathed. "I'm sorry. It won't hurt for long." I hope.

"I trust you," Draco said quietly and Harry kissed him again, so overcome he couldn't speak.

He began to move gently, pushing into Draco until it was almost more than both of them could bear - Harry because the sensation was unbelievable, Draco as evidenced by the quickening of his breaths against Harry's face.

"You okay?" Harry asked.

"I'm not made of glass, Potter," Draco replied in a dry tone and Harry choked back a laugh.

"No, you certainly aren't," Harry purred and squeezed Draco's length once more, earning a gasping moan. Bloody hell, but fantasies were nothing next to the reality. So many things could not be imagined, such as the warm puffs of air from Draco's sighs, the salty taste of sweat on his lips, and the feel - Merlin, he had imagined it, but in truth it was so much more incredible.

"Yes," Draco ordered and even that was better than his imaginings. "More."

By more, Harry assumed he meant faster, deeper, harder, so he obliged, losing himself completely in Draco's so-tight heat and shivering with every brilliant sensation. He tried to last as long as possible, tried to make it good for Draco and remember to stroke his cock every so often when his mind wasn't consumed by overwhelming need.

Thankfully, it seemed to be enough. Draco arched beneath him suddenly, shouted a word that sounded suspiciously like Harry's name, and clenched so tightly around Harry's cock that it triggered an immediate orgasm. They came simultaneously, which Harry thought was something of a pity, because he really wanted to see Draco come undone. He tried to watch anyway, half-blinded by the force of his own climax.

Draco's face contorted beautifully, mouth open, head thrown back, and a rosy glow suffused his features. His eyes were open and fixed on Harry's. It was the most incredible thing Harry had ever witnessed.

Impulsively, Harry kissed him again as he rode out the aftershocks, wondering if he would experience anything so intense ever again. His eyes slid shut and he buried his face in the softness of Draco's hair as he sagged over him in a spent heap.

"Draco," he breathed.

"Still here," came the answering reply and Harry smiled.

"I don't think I can move. Am I crushing you?"

"No," Draco said and Harry felt arms wrap around his back, holding him in place. He thought it might be brilliant to never move again.

Eventually, however, the sweat began to dry on his skin, leaving a chill in its place. Draco's arms loosened and his breathing slowed, until Harry wondered if he had fallen asleep.

"Draco?" he murmured.

"Mmmm?"

"I'm getting cold. And we should probably clean up. And I should..." Harry stopped before suggesting that he return to his own room, hating to leave.

"All right," Draco said and released Harry, who rolled over and Summoned his wand to cast a gentle Cleaning Charm on them both. A bath would be better, but he was far too lethargic to bother, wanting nothing more than sleep.

"Better?" he asked as he tugged the thick blankets over Draco's long legs, admiring them in the process.

"Harry?"

He felt an odd rush at the name, wondering how many times it would take before he got used to the sound of it on Draco Malfoy's lips, and thinking that he would very much like to find out. "Yes?"

"Stay here?" Draco asked and quickly added, "For tonight?"

Harry nodded and slid beneath the covers. After some shifting and moving of limbs, they ended up facing each other with arms and legs tangled partly together and fingers touching. It was not exactly erotic contact, and yet seemed more intimate than their earlier activities. Harry watched Draco watching him for long moments, until the grey eyes were shuttered by pale lashes falling closed.

"Goodnight, Harry," Draco said, barely audibly.

Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, Draco."

The fingers touching him tightened for an instant and Harry settled his head back onto the pillow and drifted off to sleep, more contented than he had been in a very long time.

7 

Draco woke up to the most amazing sight of his entire life. Harry Potter was in his bed. And not merely in his bed, but sound asleep in his bed, sprawled across it as though he had chased Death Eaters in his dreams, until Draco was left with a small corner of mattress on which to lie.

He could not find it in him to be annoyed at the fact, because Harry's arm was draped possessively over Draco's hips and their legs were twisted together rather pleasantly. Draco smiled, staring at the face he had seen so many times in the past and yet never fully appreciated.

Harry's lashes were amazingly long and thick. He thought perhaps the glasses prevented that fact from being noticeable, which was a pity. Harry's eyes were quite beautiful. His face was, also, Draco had to admit. The tense, underfed, slightly nervous look of his youth had gone completely, leaving strong, handsome confidence in its place.

Draco tried to move, experimentally, and Harry's arm tightened. Draco held his breath, watching Harry's face to see if he might awaken. Harry's lips thinned and Draco found himself smiling at the thought of him being annoyed at Draco's departure. Draco stilled and Harry relaxed once more, sighing lightly in his sleep.

Draco watched him for a while longer, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the tousled hair. Before long, however, the need to use the facilities won out over the need to ogle the black-haired man in his bed, so Draco concentrated and began to change.

He doubted he would ever get used to the sensation. It had taken months just to tamp down the panic enough to finally change completely - the feeling of shrinking, morphing, and losing one's sense of self had been immense. Draco had been determined, however, and bored enough to stick with it.

His limbs fell away from Harry's, shrinking and sprouting grey fur, until he was able to hop down from the bed and pad toward the bathroom. Once there, he returned to his human shape and relieved the pressure on his bladder before taking a horrified look in the mirror. Salazar, he looked a fright!

He dragged a comb through his hair and washed his face with a flannel before shifting back into his Animagus form and returning to the bedchamber. To his surprise, Harry was awake, stretching on the bed with a yawn.

Draco leaped onto the bed and paused, but Harry smiled at him and beckoned with a hand.

"There you are, Cuddles. I admit I was hoping to find your master in the bed this morning."

Draco walked forward and pressed his head into Harry's hand, feeling a purr already trying to rumble forth. Bloody hell, he was already obsessed with Harry's touch, whether in human or cat form. As if to underscore Draco's wayward thought, Harry stroked the length of his back. Draco arched into his caress and made a spontaneous decision that he hoped he would not regret.

He shifted back, changing until he lay atop the surprised hero, staring down into Harry's astonished face.

"Were you?" he asked in a seductive tone.

"You sneak!" Harry said accusingly, but Draco was pleased to note that Harry's arms wrapped around his back, locking him in place. "You are an unregistered Animagus!"

Draco smiled smugly. "Going to report me?" he asked and kissed Harry, who should have tasted unpleasantly of morning breath, but instead only tasted of Harry, which Draco thought might simply be a bias on his part.

"I'm not an Auror any more," Harry said against his lips and pulled him into a deeper kiss. Harry's hands stroked the length of his spine from neck to buttocks and the caress was even better than when he was in feline form.

Draco broke the kiss, gasping. "I'm so glad you gave up that silly career." He felt Harry's erection growing next to his own and a rush of anticipation swept through him. Harry's hands moved down and cupped his bare buttocks, squeezing lightly. Draco felt a momentary ache and wondered if he was up for another round so soon - his body was definitely not used to the things he had put it through the night before.

Thinking of those things made Draco's erection even more prominent and he could not suppress a moan as Harry's fingers slipped lower to trail lightly over his testicles.

"Draco!" The angry bellow made Draco lift his head with a horrified gasp and he met Harry's surprised gaze.

"Oh fuck, it's my father!"

Draco went completely blank with panic, especially when the shout repeated and he realized his father had reached the sitting room. With an undignified squeak, Draco shifted into cat form.

He would have bolted, but Harry's hands caught him just as his father stormed into the room with an irritated, "What have you done - ?"

The words ended abruptly and Draco thought it might be nice to crawl through Harry's skin and burrow his way beneath the mattress. He debated digging his claws into the Gryffindor to force his release, but he had the feeling Harry would not let him go even then.

"Harry Potter," his father said flatly and Draco was further mortified to see his mother enter the room behind him.

"Goodness, Lucius, can you not let the boy wake up proper..." Her voice trailed off into a gasp. "Oh, my."

"Mrs Malfoy," Harry said smoothly. "Lucius."

"Draco." His father's voice was like steel and Draco cringed into Harry's grip, shaking. "Change back at once."

"Lucius," his mother broke in, to Draco's everlasting relief. "That might not be the best idea."

It took a moment for that to sink in, which meant that Draco's father was even more out of sorts than Draco feared, a fact likely assisted by the hand that Harry trailed calmly down Draco's back in a too-familiar fashion.

"Make yourself presentable, Draco. We will await you downstairs in the dining... in the study. Good morning, Mr Potter."

Draco was mortified to hear a note of amusement beneath his mother's voice as she plucked at his father's sleeve. Instead of leaving, his father marched forward and Draco cringed into Harry's shoulder, but his father did not reach for him vengefully. Instead, he slapped a newspaper on the edge of the bed.

"Yes, Draco. Do meet us downstairs where we will discuss this, as well as the state of my dining room. You have ten minutes."

With that, he turned and stalked out with Narcissa following in his angry wake.

Draco shifted back. Harry's arms were still wrapped tightly around him, but Draco could not meet his eyes.

"He's going to destroy me," Draco moaned.

"Tsk, wouldn't he have done it already, when you were in helpless kitten form?"

Draco glared at him, irritated to find the emerald eyes sparkling with amusement. He had expected the idiot to be just as horrified as Draco, not... complacent! One of Harry's hands fell away in order to pick up the paper. Unwillingly, Draco turned to view the front page, which displayed a photograph of he and Potter sprawled together on the ground at the statuary shop. He recalled the moment with a rush, remembering how hard it had been to move away from the prone man.

When Blaise had mentioned photographs, Draco had expected images of he and Harry walking through the shop, not... that intimate display.

"That wretched opportunist!" Draco snarled. He pushed at Harry, whose arm across his back still held Draco tightly. "Let me up, Potter. I need to prepare myself for my father to disown and possibly murder me."

"Move in with me."

Draco gaped at him. Harry's face seemed as wretchedly honest as ever; he was not teasing.

"Are you completely bollocking insane?"

Harry frowned. "Probably, but I've an enormous house and I just realized how empty it is, and since the press already knows we're an item - "

"We are not an item, Potter," Draco said derisively. "This was a one time thing that - "

Green eyes flashed, intense and pure. "Don't," Harry warned. "Don't cheapen it."

Draco looked away, feeling his face heat. Damn the man. Draco had hoped Harry would be willing to go home and let Draco do damage control and try to salvage... something. What did he want, really? To return to his reclusive life of unutterable boredom? And yet, he had never expected Harry Potter to go completely Gryffindor in his defence.

Strong fingers touched the edge of his jaw and tipped Draco's face up until Harry's lips teased his own in a gentle kiss, ripe with promise. Just before a hand slapped down hard on Draco's backside. He gasped and reared back angrily. Harry smirked.

"Come on. We only have a few minutes left before your father does... well, whatever he does when he's really angry. Too bad he only gave us ten minutes."

Draco shoved away from the bed in annoyance and walked to the wardrobe, all too aware of Harry's eyes on his arse and trying not to feel warmed by the teasing tone in his voice and by his casual use of the word we. The prospect of facing his father was suddenly far less terrifying.

He lifted a shirt and felt strong arms close around his waist. Hot lips teased the nape of his neck and Draco tried not to lean back into Harry's embrace... and failed. He realized it would be far too easy to succumb to such attention.

"Can I borrow a shirt?" Harry asked, startling a laugh from Draco.

"You can borrow anything you like," Draco admitted. "It can only be an improvement." He paused and added, "I am a bit fond of the jeans, though."

At that, Harry turned him around and kissed him properly and the prospect of being very late loomed like a portent. Draco wondered how long it would take his father to forgive him if he simply left with Harry.

***

Harry felt Draco relax against him and tamped down a thrill of something he had not felt in a very long time, so long that it took him a while to name it. Happiness. He was utterly, ridiculously happy.

He pulled away from Draco's intoxicating lips and nearly groaned aloud at the sight of the man's wet mouth, half-lidded eyes, and flushed face. He was of half a mind to Apparate them straight out of the Manor and commence shagging on the nearest available bed. Only the knowledge that Draco had already lost his friends halted him. Harry could not allow him to lose his parents, as well, and there was no telling how Lucius was taking the news. The fact that he had not hexed them both seemed encouraging, but Harry admitted it might be wishful thinking on his part.

"Come on. We have to face the music," he said and reached over Draco's shoulder to snag the nearest available shirt - a midnight blue number that seemed sombre enough to suit the occasion. He felt another giddy rush when he pushed his hands through the sleeves and began to button it, watching Draco watching him with silver eyes gone dark with desire. Harry's cock, still half-hard despite the Malfoys' unexpected visit, grew even larger.

Draco stepped forward and Harry backed away quickly with a raised hand. "No!" he cried with a laugh. "Later, when the prospect of our destruction is not hovering over our heads." He turned back to the bed, cast a quick Cleaning Charm on his jeans, and stepped into them, fully aware that Draco watched him, and that he still wore no pants. It did nothing to diminish his erection, making it difficult to wrestle with his zipper.

He spent long moments visualizing Severus Snape and determinedly not watching Draco dress in order to cure his condition. At long last, Draco cleared his throat and Harry glanced at the blond, once more dressed and impeccable. Harry smiled and held out his hand. Draco hesitated only a moment before he stepped forward and took it.

"You are immensely foolish," Draco muttered.

"So you've said," Harry replied, still smiling. The corners of Draco's mouth twitched and Harry realized he would take on a hundred Lucius Malfoys in order to receive a smile from the man next to him, and wasn't that a startling revelation?

***

"What are your intentions regarding my son?" Lucius demanded the moment Harry and Draco stepped into the dark-walled study. Draco tried surreptitiously to remove his hand from Harry's, to no avail. If it became necessary to break through the Malfoy wards and Apparate away, he planned to take Draco with him.

"That is entirely up to your son," Harry replied calmly.

Draco looked like he wished the floor would open up and swallow him when Lucius turned a glare upon him. Harry's protective instincts rushed to the forefront.

"Tell me, Lucius, what do you object to the most? The fact that your son is in a relationship with a man, or that the man in question is me?"

"Perhaps we should all sit down and have some tea?" Narcissa suggested.

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter," Lucius snarled.

"You're just a homophobic prick, then. Not really a surprise, considering your pureblood bigotry."

Draco's hand clenched on his and Harry felt a pang, suddenly regretting his words. Lucius was Draco's father, after all.

"You will not address me that way in my own home!" Lucius said angrily and his hand twisted on the silver head of his cane - a replacement that looked remarkably similar to the original, fanged serpent and all. Apparently, Malfoys were resistant to change.

"We will all sit down and have a cup of tea right now," Narcissa said loudly, causing all of them to stare at her in surprise.

Draco and Lucius moved immediately to the nearest seat, with Draco dragging Harry by their attached hands. They sat side by side on a richly upholstered sofa while Lucius sat stiffly in a high-backed chair. Narcissa sank into a chair near Lucius as a house-elf popped in to place a silver tea setting on the table between them.

"So," Narcissa said pleasantly as the house-elf carefully poured the tea into tiny cups, "Is this thing with... Harry a recent development, Draco?"

Draco nodded, seeming relieved that his father had lapsed into silence. "Yes, I hired Harry to renovate my sitting room and I remembered how much you detested the fireplace in the dining room and the statue in the solar..."

"You hired an Auror to renovate the Manor?" Lucius growled and Draco winced.

"Lucius, dear, Harry quit the Ministry some time ago. Have you not read the Daily Prophet?"

"We have been in the tropics. I have not cared enough to read that rag and do not know why you continue to have it sent to us wherever we go."

"For reasons such as this, darling. I like to stay abreast of events at home." She took her cup and sipped delicately. Harry debated drinking his tea, but one hand was clasped in Draco's and he thought he might need the other for his wand.

Narcissa ignored the fact that the men were content to sit and glare tensely at one another rather than observe the pleasantries of tea.

"Harry, you seem to have come to care for Draco rather quickly. Are you certain this is not some passing fancy?"

Lucius blanched and Draco groaned. Harry grinned broadly. "I can assure you, Mrs Malfoy, my intentions regarding Draco are..." Harry nearly choked on purely honourable, because that was ridiculously far from the truth considering his immediate goal was to get the blond prone and naked as soon as possible. "Well, let me just say that hurting him is the last thing I want. Our relationship is already a matter of public knowledge and, frankly, I have no problem with it. The Daily Prophet, the Ministry, and anyone that wishes to deride either of us can, pardon my language, Madam, but they can bloody well kiss my arse."

Harry thought he heard Draco choke and Narcissa's brows rose even as Lucius glowered.

"Furthermore, Draco is coming to live with me in London."

"He most certainly is not!" Lucius roared before Draco could speak.

"Oh? Does that mean you do not plan to disown him?" Harry prodded.

"Of course I am not going to disown him! He is my son!"

Harry smiled. "Excellent, because he is very worried about your good opinion. I believe he would give up any sort of relationship with me in order to maintain that, should you demand it of him." Despite the smile, Harry's voice was hard as iron. It was a challenge and Lucius knew it. Draco's fingers clenched so tightly around Harry's that he felt the tips begin to go numb.

It was on the tip of Lucius' tongue to demand that very thing. Harry could see it plain as day and he waited expectantly, not quite sure what his reaction would be if Lucius brashly ordered Draco to never see him again, and even more unsure what Draco's response would be to such an order.

And then Lucius looked at his son. Grey eyes met grey and seemed to crackle in the room. Draco's chin rose minutely and words seemed to choke Lucius for a moment. His knuckles whitened on the black cane and then he visibly deflated, sinking back into his chair with a defeated sigh.

"Bloody hell, I thought nothing could be worse than the Dark Lord," Lucius muttered. "I need a drink."

A house-elf immediately popped up next to Lucius with a glass of amber-coloured liquid, but Narcissa gave him a pointed look. He did not take the beverage. "You cannot compare Draco's romantic preferences to Voldemort, Lucius. Don't be ridiculous. Besides, can you think of anyone better? All the silly females Draco might have chosen do not have one thousandth of the social standing of Harry Potter, nor do any of the men. Frankly, Draco has outdone my every hope for him."

She smiled at Draco, who fairly gaped at her in astonishment as she went on. "He's been closeted in this house for far too long and now he can finally resume a decent social life. It is obvious from Harry's words that he will not allow anyone to slur Draco's name and I doubt that he plans to lock Draco away from the world."

Harry sort of had planned that, actually, but Narcissa's pleasant words were little more than a veiled threat and he quickly revised that idea to include many outings with Draco, something that suddenly seemed less a chore and more of something to look forward to. He looked at Draco speculatively, picturing him in a fancy restaurant, surrounded by photographers... and completely basking in the attention. Harry grinned.

"I plan to show him off at the earliest opportunity," Harry assured her.

"My son is not a bloody trophy," Lucius growled.

"Certainly not," Harry agreed. "I merely want everyone to know how lucky I am that he has chosen me."

"Romantic idiot," Draco said, using much the same tone as Lucius, but Harry heard something beneath it that warmed his heart. Draco's hand relaxed in his, finally, and squeezed once despite his words.

"I think I'd like to take Draco home now," Harry said and got to his feet, pulling Draco with him.

"Wait, now? What about my dining room?"

"I'll fix it," Harry replied casually.

"But..."

"Oh, let them go, dear. Remember when we were young?" Narcissa smiled at Lucius suggestively over the rim of her teacup.

"It wasn't that long ago," Lucius muttered.

"Thank you, Mrs Malfoy," Harry said fervently and tugged Draco from the room.

"Have a good time, Draco," she called. Lucius groaned loudly.

***

"That went... oddly," Draco commented in the hallway. "But much better than expected."

Harry slowed, although his hand never left Draco's. "Are you okay with this?" Harry asked, apparently having another attack of conscience. "The moving in with me thing, I mean. You never said yes."

Draco smirked, although he was still in a state of relative shock at how Harry had not only defused the situation with his father, but had also managed to acquire Draco as a roommate in the same conversation. "Apparently, you are used to getting your way in all things," he said airily. "And you call me spoiled."

"Well, you'll be happy to know I plan to continue that policy, at any rate," Harry said.

Draco lifted a brow. "The getting what you want thing, or the spoiling of me thing?"

"Both," Harry said and grinned.

Draco managed not to blush and felt some measure of relief when they entered the dining room. Harry replaced the fireplace stones with a wave of his wand and set the furniture back to rights with a second flick. The room looked completely untouched.

Draco blinked at him for a moment. "You could have dismantled the fireplace with a single spell last night, could you not?" Draco commented and Harry nodded. "Then why were you taking it apart stone by stone?"

"It was more fun," Harry explained with a grin. Draco thought it more likely that he was keeping his abilities honed. Former Auror or not, he doubted Harry Potter would allow his powers to wane, just in case another threat should arise.

Harry lifted the silver urn from the mantle and peered in at the Floo Powder before looking at Draco once more. "Coming, then?" he asked, looking more uncertain than Draco had seen him in days. He realized that a single word would avenge for years of wrongs, both real and imagined. A simple refusal and Harry Potter would be broken. He glanced down at their linked hands and remembered a time, so long ago, when Harry had refused to take his hand.

Draco detached his now, slowly releasing Harry's fingers.

He lifted his gaze to the hopeful green eyes that watched him and wondered how so much could change in so short a time.

Draco put his hand into the jar and took out a handful of powder. He stepped close to Harry and allowed his lips to slide over his jaw until he brushed Harry's earlobe, smiling when it earned a shiver.

"Well, now, that's up to you, isn't it, Harry? But I'm certainly up for it."

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place," Harry said hoarsely.

Draco smiled wickedly, repeated his words, and stepped into the flames.

End