1  Phase I

Harry was glad when they finally got to the club. At least the music would drown out Hermione’s incessant whining.

“Harry, I just want you to be happy.” Well, Harry thought, apparently even a noisy club isn’t enough to drown her out completely.

“I am happy, guys,” Harry said for the 329th time that night. “Look, see this smile? It means I’m happy. Gloriously happy!”

“But, Harry,” Hermione continued, “I know you want a family and you can’t have that if you don’t settle down.”

It was the same conversation that they had every time the Trio got together lately. Ron and Hermione had married years before and were trying to have baby number one, the first of many Harry suspected, and therefore thought Harry should be considering the same.

“You can’t keep up this playboy lifestyle forever,” Hermione said, looking exasperated.

“Hermione, I’m alright, I’m just enjoying being a free spirit for a while. I think I deserve that after spending so many years with a target on my back.”

“Yeah, mate, but Voldemort’s been dead for eight years now. It won’t be that long until you’re staring thirty in the eyes and then you’ll look back to see you’ve wasted the best years of your life.”

“Ron, I’m not wasting anything. I’m having fun. F. U. N. Remember what that is?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Being in a relationship for more than two weeks could be fun too, Harry. Why can’t you just try it?”

Harry sighed and tried to tune her out as they ordered drinks and found a table near the dance floor.

Ron sat across from him and took over the nagging where Hermione had left off. “You’d think you and Malfoy have some kind of bet going to see who can shag the most people before your 30th birthday.”

Harry, finally reaching the end of his rope, snapped at him. “Well maybe Malfoy and I have more in common than you think.”

Hermione and Ron both looked at him with disgust. “How can you even say that, mate?” Ron practically howled, sounding more like an injured dog than his best friend.

“Just… never mind. I’m going to dance and if the subject hasn’t changed by the time I come back I’m finding new friends.” Harry stomped off toward the dance floor.

“Well, that didn’t go over as well as I’d hoped,” Hermione grumbled.

“Yeah, and speak of the devil, look who just walked in.” Ron pointed to the door where Draco Malfoy was walking in with an entourage of the wizarding world’s ‘most beautiful people’.

“God, could this night get any worse?” Hermione slammed her head to the table and groaned.

“Come on, Hermione, let’s dance and forget about Harry. He’s a big boy; if he wants to throw his life away on mindless dumb blondes then maybe we should just let him.”

Ron stood up and held out a hand to Hermione who reluctantly took it and smiled. “For now anyway, I guess.”

Harry was on the dance floor and, as usual, was surrounded by adoring fans clamouring for his attention. As Hermione watched she longed for the days when Harry used to shy away from such attention. Those days seemed to have died right along with Voldemort. And she did have to admit Harry had definitely grown into his reputation as the sexiest wizard alive. Tonight he was dressed casually in tight faded jeans and a snug-fitting green T-shirt that brought out the sparkle in his eyes and showed off every muscle in his well-toned body. If he wasn’t like a brother to her, and if she wasn’t totally in love with Ron, she would probably fancy a good shag just like everyone else. Because that’s all you ever got from Harry Potter – a good shag and an empty promise of ‘I’ll owl you’.

After a few songs Harry came back to the table to sit and watch the crowd, checking out his prospects for the evening. He really was quite happy with his life at the moment. After he’d finally killed Voldemort he had taken the motto of Carpe Diem to the extreme, trying to fit in as much fun as he possibly could. Why his friends couldn’t seem to accept that was beyond his comprehension.

As he downed the last of his Firewhisky, he saw Malfoy coming from the dance floor and heading in his direction. Malfoy had fled the country with his mother during the war – deciding it was safer to not choose sides until he found out who was going to win. Nowadays though, it seemed mandatory for the Daily Prophet to have a photo of either one or the other of them on the front page.

“Potter,” Malfoy said smoothly, nodding as he reached Harry’s table.

“Malfoy.” Harry returned the nod, giving no other reaction to the surprise visit from his oldest and most intense rival.

“I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between Granger and the Weasel and it seems we have a similar problem.”

“Oh really? Ron and Hermione want to marry you off so you can have dozens of screaming children too?”

Surprisingly, Malfoy laughed. “Well no, actually that would be Blaise and Pansy and only one pureblood heir would satisfy them.”

Harry almost smiled at the way Malfoy scrunched up his nose in distaste, but squashed it quickly. It was odd seeing Malfoy laugh so casually in his presence. What’s he playing at, I wonder?

“Well, it seems our friends are concerned about our futures then,” Harry said, forcing his voice to remain uninterested.

“Yes, but the thing is, I’m quite satisfied with my shallow life and I think you probably are too.” When Harry gave a small smile of agreement it was all the encouragement Malfoy needed to continue. “I might have a plan to get all of our well-intentioned friends to mind their own business.”

Malfoy had a devilishly Slytherin smirk that intrigued Harry for some odd reason. “And what exactly is this plan, and why are you telling me, of all people, about it?”

“Well,” Malfoy said as he sat down across from Harry. “Who do Granger and Weasley dislike more than anyone you know?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Malfoy. “You.”

“Exactly, and who do you think Blaise and Pansy dislike more than anyone I know?”

Harry grinned, starting to see where this was headed. “Me.”

“Precisely,” continued Malfoy. “So, I have a proposition for you.”

He eyed Harry as if he was inspecting a bottle of fine wine. “If you and I were to, say, meet at a club and dance, leading to, perhaps, heaven forbid, us being in a ‘relationship’, what do you think our well-meaning friends would do?”

“Move heaven and earth to break us up,” Harry said immediately, knowing it was true.

“Exactly, and they would never again annoy us with the importance of finding that one special someone to settle down with.” Malfoy grinned triumphantly.

The plan was outlandish, extremely sneaky and totally dishonest. But Harry was pretty sure it would be effective. The Slytherin in him smiled.

Malfoy smirked at Harry as he stood up and offered him a hand. “So, Mr. Potter, shall we dance?”

Harry glanced at the dance floor where Ron and Hermione were watching with identical horror-struck expressions. He took Malfoy’s hand and smiled. “I’d be honored.”

As he followed Draco to the dance floor, Harry contemplated what he was about to do. He hadn’t hated Malfoy for a very long time. They weren’t friends, they would never be friends, but he could tolerate him long enough to make this believable. And from this view of Malfoy he acknowledged that, from a purely physical perspective, this could even be enjoyable.

The sea of people parted as they made their way onto the dance floor. Both Harry and Draco knew that everyone was staring at them – the two most attractive men in the wizarding world. Malfoy smirked as he leaned over and whispered into Harry’s ear, “Shall we give them the show they’re hoping for?”

Harry, deciding this could indeed be a bit of fun, grinned and whispered back, “Let the game begin.”

No one watching could have taken their eyes off of them, even in the unlikely event they had wanted to. The music was loud and hypnotic and the bump and grind of their bodies was like the mating ritual of some long-forgotten ancient race.

“Oh. My. God!” Ron sat down hard in his chair and held his head in his hands. “What on earth is he doing?”

Hermione, on the other hand, was trying to decide if the horrified feeling she was having was because Harry was dancing like that with Malfoy or if it was because her panties were suddenly wet and sticky. Either way, she was definitely horrified.

Just as she thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, the music changed.

Ron groaned as his head fell from his hands and, with a dull thud, hit the table. Hermione took in a sharp breath. “Surely he won’t slow dance with Malfoy.” But as soon as she’d said it, Harry twined his fingers in Malfoy’s hair and Malfoy pulled Harry in closer, wrapping his arms around Harry’s slim waist and stuffing his hands into the back pockets of Harry’s jeans.

At that same moment a hand slammed on the table in front of them. Hermione looked up to see Pansy Parkinson looking down at them red with fury.

“What in the fuck did Potter do to Draco?” she growled.

Ron stood immediately in Hermione’s defence and found himself nose to nose with Blaise Zabini. “We should be asking what Malfoy’s done to Harry, don’t you think?” Ron asked, his eyes dark and threatening.

The four of them stood there staring at each other, waiting, perhaps, for lightning to strike one of them dead. But before it could, they heard the smooth silky voice of Draco Malfoy. “Blaise, Pansy, I should hope you’re not harassing Harry’s friends.”

“‘Harry’s’?” they said in unison, not hiding the confusion in their voices at the familiar use of Potter’s first name.

“Yes, well,” Draco said smoothly, “I had assumed you would remember, he is, after all, rather difficult to forget. But pardon my rudeness.” Draco motioned to his friends. “Blaise, Pansy,” he paused, wrapping an arm possessively around Harry’s waist. “Meet Harry Potter.”

“We know who he is, you idiot! What the hell are you doing with him?” Pansy barked.

“Why, Pansy, I was dancing, what did it look like?” Draco smirked coolly.

Pansy and Blaise looked at each other; they weren’t even going to think about what it looked like.

“Hhh-humm.” Ron cleared his throat none too subtly and grabbed Harry’s elbow. “Harry, mate, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Harry smiled innocently, as though there was nothing at all odd about the situation. “Sure, Ron, why don’t we go get some drinks,” he said as he smiled at his companion. “You’ll join us at our table won’t you, Draco?”

Hermione’s mouth fell open.

“Of course, love,” Draco simpered as he leaned over and kissed Harry slowly and tenderly right on the lips.

Harry was smiling as he walked away thinking, Malfoy’s really not a bad kisser.

“Have you gone completely mental?” Ron screeched as soon as they were out of ear shot.

“What?” Harry asked, trying to sound confused whilst controlling the urge to giggle at Ron’s distorted expression.

“Harry!” Ron’s face was beyond purple. “You just KISSED Malfoy!”

“Yes, and he’s quite a good kisser. Of course,” Harry rambled absentmindedly, “I won’t really know until I get a little tongue, but-”

“Harry!” Ron grabbed his arm and brought them to a full halt. “Would you listen to yourself? It must be some sort of Love Potion, or Lust Potion, or, hell I don’t know, something.” Ron put his hand on Harry’s shoulder in a conciliatory way. “We need to get you out of here before you do something stupid.”

“Ron,” Harry said calmly, shrugging his hand away. “Just look at him.” Harry glanced over to the table where Malfoy stood, apparently having a similar conversation with Zabini. Harry smiled inwardly as he noted the plan so far was working perfectly. “He’s actually very good-looking and extremely fit.”

“Fit? Fit? It’s Malfoy, Harry, remember, make-your-life-a-living-hell-Malfoy!”

“Ron, that was ages ago. Weren’t you just saying it was time I grew up? Well, maybe you were right.” Harry stalked off to the bar and ordered six Firewhiskys.

Ron took a deep breath and tried to rationalize this to himself. Give him a week; Malfoy will be history just like the rest of them. We can put up with even Malfoy for a week.

When they returned to the table with the drinks Draco was glaring at Blaise, Pansy was glaring at Hermione, and Hermione was glaring at Draco. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Well,” Harry said as he approached the table. “You lot look like you’re having a good time.”

Draco looked up at him and pouted. Again, Harry had to bite his lip. Draco looked rather adorable when he pouted. “Our friends don’t seem to approve of us dancing together.”

“Really?” Harry asked innocently as he looked around at all the glares that were now directed at him. “I think they’ll get used to it.” He leaned down and kissed Malfoy on the neck and whispered into his ear, just loud enough that the others could hear, “Come dance with me.”

Draco smiled and took Harry’s hand as he stood. “Fabulous idea.” The other four sat wordlessly staring as the two men walked away.

Once on the dance floor and relatively camouflaged from the eyes of their friends, they both burst out laughing.

Draco smiled cautiously at Harry. “Potter, I have to admit you’re pulling this off much better than I had expected.”

“What? You thought I’d have the typical Gryffindor wear-my-emotions-on-my-sleeve problem?”

Draco paused and raised a surprised eyebrow at Harry. “Actually yes, that’s exactly what I thought.”

Harry chuckled. “Well…” He paused for a dramatic effect. “The Sorting Hat did try to put me in Slytherin.”

Draco gaped. Harry laughed. “I didn’t know Malfoys gaped.”

Snapping his mouth shut, Draco snarled, “Oh, shut up, Potter.” But there didn’t seem to be the same bite behind it as Harry would have expected.

“So, how exactly did you manage to change the Sorting Hat’s mind?” Draco asked curiously as he manoeuvred them around the dance floor so their friends could see them once again.

Harry smiled. “I believe I said something like, not Slytherin, not Slytherin.”

Draco looked at him as if he had grown another head. “And why, pray tell, would you say such a thing?” He wasn’t sure if he was amazed because Potter had the audacity to argue with the Sorting Hat, or if it was because he had managed to actually change its mind.

“You,” Harry answered honestly, expecting a snide remark in return.

Draco looked confused for a minute before it dawned on him what Harry was talking about, and then he grinned. “Why, Potter, I hadn’t realised I had such a profound effect on your life.”

Harry laughed, he had never thought of it that way before. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

They were quiet for a while, enjoying the music and moving together. They lit up the dance floor like twin candle flames being swept about by a gentle breeze.

“You’re a good dancer.” Harry didn’t mean for it to come out in such husky whisper.

Draco looked at him curiously. “Quidditch,” he finally said as if that explained everything.

“Quidditch?”

“Yes, Potter, Quidditch. You know, the game where you ride around on brooms?” he teased.

“Thanks for the description, Malfoy,” Harry said sarcastically. “What does Quidditch have to do with dancing?”

“You learn to be aware of your body, to move fluidly with gravity and air instead of against it. I suspect that’s part of the reason your dancing has improved so much since the Yule Ball.”

Once Harry thought about it, he was surprised to realise it did make perfect sense. Harry looked his dance partner over, not sure what to think of this side of Malfoy that he’d never seen before. “Malfoy, do you realise that’s the second compliment you’ve given me tonight?”

“Oh no, I’m slipping, call the Dementors before I hurt someone,” he said dramatically.

Harry laughed. “Okay, I guess to be fair you should know I gave you a compliment earlier too. I told Ron you were a good kisser.”

Draco snorted before he could stop himself. “So that’s why he had that apoplectic fit earlier?”

Harry grinned. “No, actually that was when I told him I thought you were good-looking and really fit.”

“Oh God, Potter. You’ll give him heart failure if you keep that up. He won’t even live long enough to try to break us up later.”

Harry laughed. “Speaking of Ron.” He nodded toward the table. “They’re at it again. Should we--”

“No,” Draco said abruptly and laid his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Let them fight with each other instead of with us.”

Harry felt Draco nuzzle against his neck and instinctively pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him protectively. He could just see the outline of the man’s face on his shoulder and it looked so peaceful and un-colluded. Harry rubbed his cheek gently against Draco’s and elicited a sigh and another nuzzle.

They had been dancing for a long time when the music changed again. This was the last dance before the bar closed; they always played the same slow song. Harry reached up and smoothed Draco’s hair away from his face so he could get a better look. Draco lifted his head and looked at him questioningly. Harry didn’t know what he was doing and he didn’t know why he was doing it, all he knew was that if he didn’t kiss Malfoy right now his head might explode. He leaned in and brushed their lips together, tentatively, asking if it was okay. Draco pressed in harder and parted his lips so Harry’s tongue could have free access to wherever it wanted to go. When Draco’s tongue touched Harry’s it sent tingles through his body and Harry’s hands seemed to take the tingles as a signal to move, because his right hand moved under Draco’s shirt hem and began tracing every bump and valley of Draco’s spine while the other cupped the back of Draco’s head and tangled in his hair and God this felt good.

When the music stopped, everyone started to leave the dance floor but Harry and Draco seemed to be rooted to the spot. Harry broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Draco’s, not releasing his hair or moving the hand that now rested under Draco’s shirt at the small of his back.

“Let’s not go back to the table. Let’s just Apparate from here and deal with them tomorrow.” Harry’s voice was low and shaky and a bit unsure as if asking a question rather than making a statement.

“Apparate to where?” Draco’s voice was just as shaky but still silky and seductive, answering the question exactly as Harry had hoped.

“My place, your place, fuck I don’t care, as long as I get to kiss you like that again,” Harry said breathlessly.

Without even a glance toward the table, where their friends were watching anxiously, Draco smiled. “Your place.”

There was a faint pop and they appeared in the middle of Harry’s bedroom and within seconds they were kissing again. Breathless and hungry kisses that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

Harry deftly unbuttoned Draco’s shirt as they kissed and he ran his hands over the newly exposed skin. He finally released Draco’s lips and moved down his throat, placing open mouth kisses in a line to Draco’s Adam’s apple where he stopped and sucked until Draco moaned. “God, Potter, are you sure you want to do this?”

Hearing Draco’s voice sounding so unsure and vulnerable bolstered Harry’s confidence in a way he would have never imagined. “Harry,” he purred as he moved from Draco’s Adam’s apple to trace the lines of his collar bone with his tongue, and then lower to worry a nipple gently between his teeth.

“What?” Draco finally managed to question between whimpers.

“Harry. When I bring you to the best orgasm you’ve ever had I want you to scream Harry. Not Potter.” Harry moved his attention down and ran his tongue around Draco’s navel before flicking it in and out and blowing hot breath on the wetness sending chills radiating out in all directions.

“If you can do that, Potter, I’ll call you Harry until my dying days,” Draco whispered, almost to himself.

Harry chuckled softly against wet skin and more chills spread over Draco’s entire body. “Is that a promise?”

Harry’s lips moved back up Draco’s chest, nipping at the other nipple and making Draco gasp. “Yes.”

Harry walked slowly around Draco, pulling the shirt off his shoulders as he went, never taking his eyes off him. He nibbled the back of Draco’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his waist and began to unbuckle Draco’s belt. “Is it a promise you’ll keep?” he whispered in Draco’s ear as he nibbled it and artfully unbuttoned the moaning man’s trousers whilst being careful not to touch the obvious erection that was aching to get out.

Draco gasped as his clothes fell to the ground and cool air hit him as his cock was released from its prison to push against his satin boxers. “Most of the time.” Draco chuckled hoarsely, trying desperately to stay in control and not rip Harry’s clothes off and throw him to the floor at that very instant.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Harry whispered into Draco’s ear as he nuzzled into satin blond hair.

Draco toed off his shoes and stepped out of his trousers as he turned to face Harry, his eyes clouded with desire. “And you are entirely too clothed,” Draco said in a low purr as he whispered an incantation and Harry’s shirt and jeans fell to the floor.

Harry wasn’t sure how they got to the bed but once they were there he couldn’t stop. He had to have Draco, be inside Draco, own Draco and for some reason he didn’t think one night of this would be enough.

Draco was arching up to him, a string of nonsense words and expletives coming from swollen lips and he looked so beautiful and vulnerable lying on Harry’s bed, digging fingers into Harry’s hips, and Harry was thankful for Lubrication Spells because if he had to wait he might die.

He entered Draco as slowly as he could; biting his lip in concentration to keep from slamming into him all at once like he really wanted to. But Draco was moving beneath him and Harry pushed in further, surrounding himself in Draco’s warmth. “God, you feel good, Draco.” He leaned in and found Draco’s lips again and kissed hard, feeling Draco’s cock rubbing against his stomach, covering it with wetness. He was trying hard to keep his focus but his hips were moving to a rhythm all their own, and he couldn’t let go of Draco’s lips and his arms were trembling as they held him up so he didn’t crush Draco beneath him. Then Draco was coming and spasms were circling Harry’s cock and then he heard it, it sounded almost like a moan coming from Draco’s beautiful swollen lips but it wasn’t a moan, not completely anyway. It was his name. “Harry, Harry, oh God, Harry.” And the sound of it alone forced his own orgasm from him with sharp spikes shooting through his body that lasted for an eternity before he collapsed, halfway on top of Draco but enough to the side to keep from smothering him. Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s hips to keep his softening cock from sliding out of him. The last thing Harry remembered before sleep overtook him was Draco kissing his forehead, his temples, his eyes, anything he could reach from the odd angle he was wedged into underneath Harry and he remembered his own voice, almost unrecognizable it was so thick with emotion, “Stay, Draco, please stay.”

2 Phase II