[Prologue]

Harry Potter stared into his wine glass. There was a sheen of crimson along the inside, glycerin legs streaming down the curve of the glass to the bottom again and pooling in the dregs of sediment from a hasty pour by the waiter.

He hadn't wanted to be there either.

"Harry, say something."

He looked up to see Ginny watching him, her brown eyes full of concern. He shrugged. "What is there to say? You've made up your mind."

"And you've made up yours as well. We both know you're not going back."

Harry gave a half-hearted chuckle. "No, I'm not."

"I'll be Quidditch captain. It's my best chance of making one of the professional leagues next year. With no Quidditch last year, I'll need the time to get back into form. And I'd like to earn a few NEWTs while I have the chance." She twirled her wine glass slowly, pinching the stem between thumb and forefinger. "Harry…"

"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

She closed her eyes briefly before casting them down at her glass. "You broke up with me first. It's never really been the same since."

That was true. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that everything was fine, it wasn't. Everyone expected Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley to get married and live happily ever after. That was how the story was supposed to end.

But it didn't seem to be happening that way at all.

"I'm sorry that I haven't been all that interested in…" He looked around and lowered his voice. "It's not you."

She pursed her lips and nodded, and his stomach twisted a bit. They hadn't talked about that, had both been avoiding it, but their problems in bed loomed over everything that happened between them.

"I think something is wrong with me," he said, voice lowered to a whisper. He'd cast a muffliato when he realized the direction the conversation was headed, but it was probably unnecessary. This was their place, a café they'd spent a great deal of time in this summer. They were tucked into a private corner, far from the other patrons. It was their table. God, how had they got to this point? He pressed a hand against his forehead. "I think I'm broken, somehow."

He'd wondered on more than one occasion if the part of him that had been able to feel desire and lust had been left behind on that train platform with the last bit of Voldemort's soul. Maybe he'd never really felt it at all. Maybe it had been Voldemort who'd churned darkly in his chest and wanted to fuck Ginny Weasley.

Ginny's eyes flicked back up to him, but she paused while the waiter cleared the dishes.

"Dessert?" the waiter asked. It was directed at Harry.

"No thanks. Just the check."

The waiter nodded and left with the dishes, winding his way back through the tables and toward the kitchen. He paused to check on another table, laughing with the couple sitting there. He had a nice smile, though they hadn't seen much of it tonight.

Ginny cleared her throat and he turned back to look at her. "You're not broken, Harry."

"You don't understand." There were some things he hadn't been able to tell even her.

The corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but have you ever considered the possibility that the real problem is… you're not interested in girls?"

Harry gaped at her. "There's a right way to take that?"

"So that's a no?"

"I have no idea why you would even think that!"

"Oh, please. I see who you look at. You never notice the witches with their tits hanging out, but you'll check out the blokes in tight trousers every time."

"You'd prefer that I ogle every girl who walks by?"

"That's not the point, Harry."

"Just because I'm not interested in sex with you doesn't mean I'm--" He winced. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. Even though it was the truth.

Ginny paled visibly. "Right. On that note, I'll say good night." She pushed her chair back and stood.

He leapt to his feet. "Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that." He reached for her hand, and she let him take it.

"Actually, that’s the most honest thing you've said to me in a year. Apparate me home?"

"Come back to mine," he whispered, tugging her closer. "Let's not leave it like this."

She pulled her hand out of his grip and shook her head. "No, I think this is exactly where we need to leave it."

She waited while he paid the bill, to his relief. They walked in silence down Charing Cross Road. There was a public apparition point down by the theatre district and they waited quietly in the queue until it was their turn to step into the narrow alleyway and clasp hands. The twisting discomfort of apparition barely registered -- it was a fairly constant state of being for him lately.

Ginny dropped his hand when their feet touched the ground, but she didn't move away. She just stood next to him and sighed. Harry stared up at the Burrow and felt a stab of emotion. He'd always thought of this place as a second home, had always expected it would be where he'd spend Christmases, that they'd bring their children and--

None of that was going to happen. And it was all his fault.

"I do love you, Harry." Ginny's lips brushed his cheek and he threw his arms around her. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to swallow down his grief, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "I wish I could just…" He couldn't think of a way to say it that wasn't cruel.

"I know." She wiped her eyes and stepped back. "Goodbye, Harry."

He watched her walk into the house, followed her silhouette with his eyes until the door closed at last. She was beautiful, clever, funny, sexy -- why couldn't he just make himself want her again?

He sat in the tall grass and stared up at the stars for a long time.

*****

[Three months later]

Harry yawned as he stepped out of the ornate fireplace and into the great onyx Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. He tucked a half-read Daily Prophet under his arm, took another sip from the paper Costa cup -- he was quite good at flooing with hot beverage in hand now -- and joined the flow of wizards and witches heading into the Ministry complex to start their work days.

He was barely spared a glance as he made his way through the crowd toward the queue for the rightmost bank of lifts. During his first week this walk had been like running a gauntlet of admirers, but the novelty of his presence had worn off surprisingly quickly. He scanned the paper while waiting -- he never could make heads or tails of the importance of cauldron prices, but he ought to make an effort at least -- and hoped the coffee would kick in soon. At last it was his turn on the lift. He even managed not to spill a bit of coffee as it jostled him about; it was a good start to the day.

"Level Two. Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

The grate slid open and he stepped off behind two men wearing the robes of the Wizengamot. They turned left; he turned right, down the corridor to the Auror offices. He could hear them bickering about some minutiae of a case under consideration, something they really ought not do outside their own offices. He rolled his eyes. This department was a mess. No wonder Voldemort had been able to take it over so easily.

He was about to round the corner when he heard one of them say "Malfoy!" -- not casually or even derisively, but in greeting. Harry stopped.

Then there was another voice added to the conversation, one that was so familiar Harry would have recognized it anywhere. He bent down, pretending he'd dropped something, and risked a glance over his shoulder.

"Yes sir, of course. I'll get that to you straight away."

"See that you do," one of the robed men replied with a grunt. They continued down the corridor with a blond-headed wizard following behind. None of them had spared at glance at Harry kneeling on the floor.

He dashed down the corridor, through the heavy oak doors that formed the entrance to the Auror offices, down another winding corridor, made a sharp turn to the left, and then burst into the trainee office dramatically. He paused just inside the door to catch his breath before blurting, "You're never going to believe who I just saw."

Ron Weasley looked up from his desk in the corner. "Lockhart escape from St. Mungo's again?"

Snickers came from the others in the room -- that had been an entertaining day.

"Draco Malfoy, actually."

"Really? Where?" Ron looked mildly interested.

"He was talking with two men from the Wizengamot, just now in the corridor."

"I thought his father's trial was done months ago." Edward Wimple's face was scrunched up as if in pain -- his customary expression of interest.

Ron leaned back in his chair. "What was he talking with them about?"

"Not sure." Harry tapped his coffee cup with his wand; it had gone cold in the long queue for the lift. "But it definitely sounded like he was working with them."

"With the Wizengamot? You're joking!" Ron's expression was incredulous. "Unless he was a witness against his father back in August, which I highly doubt--"

"He wasn't," Harry said. "I was there, and he said nothing the entire time."

"We don't know went on behind closed doors."

"True, but--"

"Oh, you three. He works for the Wizengamot office now." Belinda Johnson's exasperated sigh traveled all the way up to her eyebrows. "He's training as a legal assistant."

Harry, Ron, and Edward turned to stare at her. "How do you know these things?" Edward asked. "She always knows these things."

"You'd never guess the amount of gossiping that occurs in the witches' loo. I hear he's quite good."

"How did Malfoy get a position as a legal assistant?" Ron asked.

"The same way you got into the Auror training program, I'd wager," Edward said, and grinned when Ron responded with a single finger.

"Malfoy's father couldn't have had much clout from Azkaban," Harry said.

"I don't think there's anything suspicious there," Belinda said, her tone that of a person explaining something to dullards. "I think he was simply the best candidate."

"No," Harry and Ron said simultaneously.

"That can't be it," Ron added.

"I'll keep my ears open, since you're so terribly interested," Belinda said with a glance at Harry.

"I honestly don't care what he's doing here. I was just surprised to see him actually, you know, working." Harry settled at his desk and looked over at Ron, who nodded in solidarity.

"Speaking of working," Belinda said, "did anyone make any progress on the Parks case we're supposed to be researching? Or is it all down to me again?"

"She's worse than Hermione," Ron whispered a few minutes later, when Belinda and Edward were deep in discussion.

"Don't let Hermione hear you say that," Harry replied with a wink. "You remember how she gets when she's jealous."

Ron snorted. "She's got no reason to be jealous. I'm the one who should be worried, with her away at school."

"Surrounded by handsome young wizards in need of private tutoring?"

"Shut up."

"Joking, joking," Harry replied. He really ought not poke fun at Ron's insecurities. It was like picking low-hanging fruit sometimes.

*****

"I get that he needed a job," Harry said, aiming his wand at the target at the end of the firing range. He fired off a quick stunning spell and watched it light up briefly when hit. "The Ministry didn't leave them much, after all. And he's probably supporting his mother."

"She always seemed a bit high-maintenance," Ron replied, firing a stinging jinx at his own target. It lit up red.

"But what I can't figure out is why he'd want to go into the legal field. I mean, I suppose he's clever enough, but after his father's trial why would he want to go anywhere near the place?"

"Perhaps the trial was what made him interested," Belinda said. She paused to cast a disarming spell at her own target. "He likely spent a lot of time with the solicitors and decided it was a field that interested him."

"I suppose." Harry fired off three curses in quick succession, lighting up his and Ron's targets.

"Hey!"

"Sorry. But I suppose I'd always imagined him doing something more illicit, you know?"

"What, like being a rentboy?" Edward said with a snort. Everyone turned to stare at him and he shrugged. "Didn't you know? He's a shirt-lifter, that one. Takes it up the arse. Or whatever it is they do."

Harry saw Ron glance at him, but he kept his focus on his target.

"Nothing wrong with that," Ron said.

"There is if you're a pureblood," Edward retorted.

"I'm a pureblood." Ron turned to face him. "And I don't give a fuck what Malfoy does in his own bed."

"All right, all right," Edward said, holding up his hands. "I didn't mean to offend your delicate sensibilities."

Ron glared at him before firing off a hex that toppled his target over completely.

"Though it's definitely true that older wizarding families aren't typically known for their tolerance," Belinda said.

Harry snorted. "You think?"

"But things are changing," Belinda continued. She fired another hex at her target, making it glow purple this time. "And people seem much more likely to be accepting now than they were before."

"I'm not so sure about that." Harry's next curse made the target explode. They all ducked as pieces of it came flying toward them. "Sorry."

"Our time's up anyway," Ron said.

"What I mean is, these days everyone wants to go out of their way to prove they were nothing like the followers of You-Know-Who. So even if they're horribly homophobic, most people won't dare admit it for fear of being labeled a bigoted Death Eater." Belinda lifted her chin as if to punctuate the point.

"Perhaps that's why he wanted to train as a legal assistant," Harry said after a moment.

"Because he takes it up the arse?" Edward asked.

Ron rolled his eyes. "No, you dolt. Because he wants to set himself apart from his family's evil Death Eater past. Training as a legal assistant to the Wizengamot is a fairly unexpected career path for a Malfoy."

Harry couldn't keep the note of surprise from his voice. "Yes, exactly. Brilliant, Ron."

Ron raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry smiled.

*****

He wasn't stalking Malfoy. Not exactly. It was more like he was observing him, trying to get a sense of why it was that Malfoy was here.

So far he'd learned that Malfoy arrived at the Ministry complex by floo at approximately 7:45 in the morning, well before the ordinary rush. He wore the crimson robes of the Wizengamot clerks, and he carried a black dragonhide shoulder case. He didn't make eye contact with anyone, and he certainly got his share of sharp and disapproving looks as he moved through the large Atrium.

Belinda's sources had said he'd been in the position for approximately one week the day Harry first spotted him and that he was selected from a rather large pool of qualified candidates. Ron thought that cemented the theory that someone had hired Malfoy as a favor to his father, because surely (Ron had insisted over lunch one Tuesday) Malfoy was utterly unqualified for much of anything, having essentially stopped participating in his education halfway through sixth year. Harry had reminded Ron that the two of them were hardly different in that regard and Ron had rewarded him by gaping at him with a mouthful of half-chewed sandwich.

So for the sake of argument, Harry decided to assume Malfoy was selected at least partially because he met the qualifications for the position. Said qualifications typically included a few NEWTs, and his sources said Malfoy had none -- though no exams had been offered in the last year and several Ministry departments had exempted witches and wizards of their year for a variety of positions.

After watching Malfoy cross the Atrium from behind a copy of the Prophet, Harry got in the queue for a lift, timing it so that he'd be a half-dozen people ahead of Malfoy in his own queue and arrive at Level Two just before Malfoy did. He would then park himself behind a large potted Didentricula and watch as Malfoy exited the lift, strolled down the corridor toward the Wizengamot offices, popped into the loo for a minute or two, and then continued on around the corner and out of sight.

Harry wasn't yet sure what happened after that, as he hadn't yet worked up the nerve to wander down there and find out. What would he even say? Hi, Malfoy, I just happened to be strolling by this area I'm technically not supposed to be in and was wondering--

"Do you watch him like this every morning?" Ron's voice in Harry's right ear startled him and he whirled, wand pointed at Ron's chest before he'd even blinked.

"Bloody hell, you gave me a fright."

Ron, to his credit, hadn't even flinched. "And you're giving me a bit of concern. Please don't tell me you fancy Malfoy."

Harry's mouth opened and closed again and he felt a bit of color drain from his face. "Ron, I--"

"No." Ron held up a hand. "I don't want to know. Really, I don't. I'm fine with you being--" he made a vague gesture with his hand "--but I really don't want to know the details."

"I don't fancy him! I'm just curious about why he's here, that's all."

"Oh, right. That explains all the sneaking about."

"I'm not sneaking." At Ron's long look, Harry relented. "All right, I'm sneaking. But that's because it's Malfoy. I can't just go up to him and ask why he's here."

"Why not? The war is over, Harry. We're supposed to forgive and reconcile and all that shite, right?"

"I know I said that, but--"

"It's not like it's the first time you've become completely obsessed with Malfoy." Ron's raised eyebrows almost seemed smug.

Harry sighed. "It's not like that."

"Well, it certainly looks like it, mate. Go talk him already, or let it alone." He turned to head down the corridor to the Auror offices, and then paused. "Just my opinion, of course. But Hermione agrees with me."

Ron and Hermione had been incredibly supportive these last few months, but he was mortified by the idea of them discussing the possibility of him having a crush on Malfoy. Which he most certainly did not have. "Fine, I'll talk to him."

Ron gave him a tight smile before walking on.

Harry leaned back against the wall of the corridor. He wasn't sure why the idea of talking to Malfoy filled him with such dread, but Ron was right that it was something he needed to get past.

He just had to think of something to say besides, "Malfoy, what the fuck?"

*****

"Are you hungry?"

Harry looked up to see Belinda perched on the edge of his desk. "I suppose."

"Want to go grab a bite to eat? Everyone else is gone for the day. It's just us workaholics." She grinned and crossed her legs. She'd worn an unusually short skirt today. Her style was more typically trousers.

"Yeah, okay. Give me a few minutes to finish this report."

Ten minutes later they were in the lift, Auror robes slung over their shoulders. "I hear there's a fantastic pub not far from here. Muggle, but the food is good. I've even got some Muggle money, in case you haven't."

Harry smiled. "Sounds great, actually."

They stopped to transfigure their robes into approximations of Muggles coats before leaving the Ministry by way of the visitor's entrance.

"It's a telephone box, isn't it?" Belinda asked. "I've always wanted to see a real telephone. How do Muggles put their voices through it without magic?"

"It's not as complicated as you might imagine." Harry swallowed down the memory of the last time he'd used this particular entrance.

The pub was lively, full of Muggle businessmen downing pints and talking about sport. He and Belinda bought pints of ale at the bar and ordered some food to share, and found a relatively quiet corner to squeeze into.

To Harry's surprise, Belinda didn't talk about work. Instead, she chattered about her younger sister's latest letter from Hogwarts ("The students are helping with the rebuilding as part of Charms and Transfiguration, you know,") her cousin who'd just come back from Barbados ("It's completely lovely! You should see his photographs of the beaches,") and her parents' concern about her living on her own ("Honestly, I'm almost 20 years old!"). She kept bumping against Harry in the tight space and he backed himself into the corner to give her more room, but it didn't seem to matter. The pub was growing ever more crowded.

"Want to get out of here?" he asked when beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.

She grinned at him. "Yeah. Where do you want to go?"

They ended up walking through a nearby tree-lined square. Belinda had looped her arm through his and was watching him as they walked. He was starting to get paranoid that he had mustard on his chin.

It had grown dark long before and he was tired. He'd hoped she would get the hint when he yawned, but she didn't. Finally he stopped and she turned to look at him.

"So… it's getting late."

"It is." She stepped closer to him. With her close-cropped hair and angular face, she almost looked like a boy, if he squinted.

"I really ought to head home."

"Want some company?" She gave him a sly smile, and he finally understood.

"Ah. Well, the thing is--"

His words were cut off by her lips against his own and he froze for a moment, uncertain how to respond. He didn't want to shove her away, but he didn't want to reciprocate either.

After a moment, she pulled back and looked at him. "Sorry. I got a bit carried away."

Harry sighed. "No, I'm sorry. It's not you, it's--"

"Right, of course. You're not interested. I mean--"

"Belinda, you're a lovely girl, but I'm not really…" He paused, not certain he wanted to tell her this.

Her eyes widened. "Oh! So… you really are gay, then?" At his startled look, she shrugged. "There's a rumor going around, but I hadn't put much stock in it, to be honest. I suppose I should have just asked you instead of making a fool of myself."

"A rumor?" His head was spinning. He shouldn't be surprised, as gossip columns had always made fodder of him, but the idea that people knew was just-- ugh.

"I think people started talking after you and Ginny Weasley split and she moved on to date someone else and you didn't. I mean, you're probably the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding World right now, but you haven't been seen with any witches at all."

"I suppose I could have made it less obvious." He scrubbed at his forehead with his hand. "Look, I'm not exactly ready to make this public, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything." Fat chance of that, her being the Gossip Queen of Level Two. He could obliviate her. Highly unethical, but effective.

She smiled. "I won't. But if anyone asks me directly, I'm not going to lie. And you shouldn't either. You coming out would be a pretty big deal, you know. It would probably help a lot of people re-evaluate their prejudices."

Harry snorted. "Or it would make me a fresh target all over again. No thanks."

"Thanks for the chat and all anyway. See you tomorrow?"

He nodded and gave her a small squeeze, and she turned and walked away.

If he'd had any doubt before, he had none now. He'd just been kissed by an attractive witch, a witch who would likely have gone happily to his bed if he'd even hinted that was what he wanted, and he hadn't liked it much at all.

So yeah. He was gay. One hundred fucking percent queer.

After glancing around to be sure no one was watching, he turned on the spot and apparated home.

*****

He'd meticulously planned his approach to Malfoy. After much thought, he'd decided a natural sort of accidental meeting would be best. He'd first thought he could jump in the queue for the lift just behind Malfoy one morning, hiding behind a paper so he could appear completely preoccupied until the moment he looked up in the lift and said, "Draco Malfoy, what a surprise! I had no idea you worked for the Ministry as well."

But he'd quickly realized a more private meeting might be conducive to actual conversation. The lift scenario could result in a simple nod and small talk, with no real information exchanged. And doubtless the other occupants of the lift would be very interested in a conversation between two famous wizards who were so recently on opposite sides of the war.

Many other meeting spots were considered and rejected before he finally settled on the mens' toilets near the lifts. He would wait for Malfoy to make his morning trip to the loo, go in a few moments behind him, and then proceed with the same "surprise" conversation. If he was lucky the bathroom would be otherwise unoccupied and they'd have a few moments to chat. It was practically foolproof.

But of course, on the particular morning he'd decided to make his move, Malfoy didn't go in the bathroom as usual. He kept on walking and disappeared around the corner.

"Shit," Harry muttered. Now he had to spend another entire day thinking about this and obsessing about how the conversation might go. He'd imagined it would be cool at first, even stilted until Malfoy realized Harry was genuinely interested in Malfoy's career plans. In some versions of his fantasy encounter, Malfoy had even asked him to meet for a drink sometime.

That, for the record, was pure fantasy. Not going to happen, and not really even something he wanted. Really.

And so Harry was caught completely off-guard later that afternoon when he emerged from a stall in the bathroom near the Auror offices to see Draco Malfoy glaring at him.

Malfoy raised his wand (a new one, Harry's brain noticed, apparently in complete denial of the fact that he was about to be hexed) and pointed it at Harry's chest.

"I don't know what you're up to, Potter," Malfoy said, his face contorted in an angry scowl, "but stop following me around. Stop hiding behind bushes and watching me go to the loo. It's fucking creepy, and if you so much as look at me again I will hex your balls off. Got it?"

Harry felt his face flush in embarrassment, but he could do nothing but stare back at Malfoy in response.

"Pathetic," Malfoy said, and stalked out the door.

Harry exhaled once the door had swung shut. "That went well," he muttered at his reflection in the mirror.

Shit.

*****

"Is he still looking?" Harry asked, pretending to be very interested in the paper.

"Glaring is more like it," Ron said. He handed some coins to the pastry vendor in exchange for a large cauldron cake. "You should have just talked to him."

"I know, I know. I didn't think he'd notice me following him around." He risked a glance in Malfoy's direction; he was now engaged in conversation with someone in the lift queue.

"Everyone noticed, mate."

Harry winced. "I'm such an idiot. Why did I think he'd be friendly to me at all after everything that happened in the last decade?"

"Maybe because you're both--"

"Shhh, not here!"

Ron sighed. "He's getting on the lift. Can we go now?"

They made their way to the trainee office in silence. Harry knew he should just let this thing with Malfoy go, but he couldn't. It was like sixth year all over again, only without the feeling of impending death and despair. He just knew there was something about Malfoy he was supposed to figure out.

*****

"You like him," Ginny said, smiling at him over her sandwich.

"I don't like him. Why does everyone think I like him? Just because we're both gay doesn't mean we have to be boyfriends." Harry took a large swig of butterbeer and waved his wand. The responding glow of the muffliato was somewhat reassuring. The Hog's Head was full of students today, all enjoying a Saturday in Hogsmeade as if the last year hadn't happened at all. It was a bit much to process.

"You're completely obsessed with Draco Malfoy. It's a reasonable leap from that to thinking you might have a crush on him."

"I've been obsessed with him before in a completely platonic way!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I seem to recall I had to jump you in public to get your attention that year."

Harry stared into his butterbeer. "I admit there may have been more to that than I understood at the time."

"So I suppose the question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Harry smiled tightly and pushed his empty plate aside. "Nothing. He's made it clear he wants me nowhere near him."

"Does he know you're gay? That might change his mind."

"This is Malfoy we're talking about. He's always hated me. Even if he's occasionally acted almost-sane, he's never going to like me."

"Then let it go. Stop obsessing over him. It's clearly a lost cause." She drained her butterbeer and smirked at him in a clear challenge.

Harry sighed. "I love you, Ginny, but sometimes you make me crazy."

She grinned. "Just talk to him and get it over with. Ask him out. The worst he can do is say no."

"Actually, no. There are so many things he could do that would be worse."

"Like what?"

"He could say yes." Harry looked up at her with raised eyebrows.

She laughed.

He later realized it was the first time he'd heard her laugh since sixth year.

*****

Malfoy didn't typically eat lunch in the Ministry's café, so when he walked in with Blaise Zabini (in the pinstriped robes of the Department of International Magical Cooperation), Harry nearly choked on his sandwich.

"Are you all--" Belinda began, but then raised her eyebrows in realization. "Ohhhh. Fancy that?"

"Ha," Harry said, reaching for his bottle of pumpkin juice.

"I don't think he saw you. If you wanted to catch him by surprise, here's your chance."

Harry watched as Malfoy and Zabini stood in the queue by the counter and chatted casually. Both paused to laugh, and Harry felt an odd twinge at the sight of Malfoy's face lit up with pleasure.

Oh, hell. He did not have a crush on Malfoy. He was just curious about… something. That was all.

"Right," he said, pushing his chair back. "I'll be right back. Be prepared to mop up the pieces if necessary."

Belinda snorted as he stood. Everyone thought this was no big deal, that he should just relax and talk to Malfoy, like they were old friends or something. How could they all have forgotten that every single time Harry had ever talked to Malfoy, it had been tense at the very least, and at worst they'd hurled deadly hexes at one another?

Why the hell was he doing this again?

He forced himself to cross the busy café and joined the queue at the counter, figuring he might as well order a pastry as a cover. He wracked his brain trying to think of something to say.

At last Malfoy and Zabini turned away from the counter with purchases in hand and started walking away. They hadn't seen him. He was missing his chance.

"Malfoy!"

The entire café went quiet, to his horror. Malfoy and Zabini turned to stare at him.

If his invisibility cloak had been within 5 miles he'd have accio'd it.

"Right," he muttered. "Hi. Just wanted to say… hi." He attempted a smile and was sure it looked more like a grimace of pain.

Malfoy's expression, a mix of shock and confusion, didn't change. "Hi, Potter," he said at last, and nudged Zabini with an elbow. The two of them all but fled the café.

Harry forced himself to buy a pastry, ignoring the odd look the cashier gave him. He returned to his table, not making eye contact with anyone, and shot a pre-emptive glare at Belinda.

"I thought it went well," she said, grinning.

"Shut up." At least the pastry was good.

*****

"Just talk to him, everyone keeps saying. And when I finally do, it's a complete disaster." Harry flopped back onto the sofa.

"At least he didn't hex you." Ron stretched and patted his stomach. "God, I've missed Kreacher's cooking. I'm about to burst."

"He might have if there weren't so many witnesses." Harry groaned at the memory. "Some hero I am."

"Maybe next time you should try to talk to him in private."

"Oh, because getting him alone is so easy, is it?"

"What do you want me to say, Harry? I'm hardly good at the romance thing myself. It took me years to work up the nerve to tell Hermione how I feel about her. With two blokes it's probably ten times more awkward."

"Definitely. Well, possibly. I have no idea. I don't even know anyone else who's gay."

"Me either." There was a pause. "So is this about Malfoy, or are you just curious about the whole gay thing?"

"In other words, am I completely desperate or do I actually like Draco Malfoy?" Harry sighed. "I have no idea."

There was a rushing sound from the fireplace and they both looked up. A moment later Hermione stepped out, dusting herself off.

"Honestly, Harry, don't you ever have your chimney swept?"

Ron scooped her up in a hug and she giggled. "We thought you weren't coming! You missed dinner."

"I hope you saved me something. I'm starving."

"Kreacher'll make you a plate," Harry said. "And I'll talk to him about the chimney."

Hermione's grin faded a bit as she realized she'd just added a new task to Kreacher's work load.

Between bites she filled them in on the latest progress in the rebuilding of Hogwarts. Harry was impressed with the sincerity with which Ron hung on her every word. They even finished each other's sentences occasionally. It had never been like that with Ginny. He should have figured it out a lot sooner.

"Harry?"

"Sorry," he said, smiling at her. "It's been a long day."

She glanced at Ron with raised eyebrows and he shrugged, and she looked back at Harry with a mix of concern and sympathy. They even had entire conversations without speaking. It was almost depressing.

He recounted his unfortunate encounter with Malfoy in the café. To his relief, she didn't laugh at all, but seemed completely sympathetic.

"Oh, Harry. How utterly mortifying."

"I thought I recovered well," he lied. He ignored Ron's snort.

"I can do a bit of research for you, if you like. Maybe I can find some places where you could go to meet boys. I'm sure Muggle gay clubs would be easier to navigate than befriending Malfoy."

"Please don't," Harry said, trying his best to keep a tone of exasperation out of his voice. "I'll figure this out, I will. But I need to do it on my own."

Ron reached for Hermione's hand and squeezed it. She nodded.

"Now," Harry said, forcing himself to smile. "I think Kreacher has something lovely planned for dessert."

*****

"I can't believe we had to come back for a meeting after training all day." Ron groaned as he collapsed into his chair and a puff of dust flew up around him.

"I can't believe I thought field training would be easy," Harry replied, rubbing his aching shoulder. "I thought after that year I spent hunting horcruxes, being an Auror would be a piece of cake."

"And we're not even real Aurors yet. How long until the meeting?"

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. "Twenty minutes. I'm heading to the showers in the gym."

"I've got to finish a report before that meeting, so it's a good scourgify for me." Ron didn't look very pleased about this. He'd never been very good with that particular spell.

"Good luck with that," Harry said as he headed out the door.

The Ministry's fitness complex was adjacent to the firing ranges and consisted mostly of large multipurpose rooms for combat training. Harry hadn't used the showers before, and so he was pleasantly surprised at the size of the facility. Like everything else in the Ministry complex, the bathroom was magically enlarged and elaborately decorated. In the center of the room was a large lap pool; he hadn't known it existed before and immediately made plans to swim during his lunch break.

A doorway to his right was labeled Showers; he walked through to find a long row of ornate doors. He opened the nearest one and his eyes widened in surprise: not only was there an elaborate shower with at least a dozen nozzles to spray water in every direction possible, but on the other side of the enlarged room was a massive tub with multiple spigots. It reminded him of the Prefects' Bathroom at Hogwarts.

He stripped off his clothes and hung them on nearby hooks, then cast a few cleaning spells at them for good measure. The shower was heavenly, and he nearly lost track of time standing under the warm spray. At last he turned it off reluctantly, reached for the fluffy white towel on a nearby shelf -- ah, with a warming spell, pure bliss -- and made a mental note to bathe here daily from now on.

At last he emerged from his shower room, clean and dressed and surprisingly re-invigorated. He couldn't wait to tell Ron what he'd missed. He walked down the corridor towards the main area and heard voices ahead. Familiar voices. He paused and peeked around the doorway.

Malfoy and Zabini were in the lap pool, swim goggles perched on their dry heads, apparently preparing to swim. Harry groaned. Of all the people to run into in the bathroom. Maybe he could just give them a friendly wave as he walked through the room and then make his exit as quickly as possible.

"I don't understand why, though," Malfoy said. "He hates me. He always has. Why stalk me for weeks and then make such a scene in the café yesterday?"

Harry felt his insides twist. He might be late for that meeting after all.

The expression on Zabini's face was eerily reminiscent of Ron's long-suffering look each time Harry talked about Malfoy. "I think it's obvious, Draco."

"It's not that. This is Potter, for fuck's sake."

"I know you don't believe me, but I've been watching him in the last week or so, and I see the way he looks at you."

Malfoy turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. "Wait, are you saying… Do you think he's family?"

Zabini shrugged. "That's the rumor."

Malfoy gaped. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"I assumed you knew, considering you're in the same department he is."

"It's a big department, and we don't exactly run in the same circles. Fuck." Malfoy groaned and leaned back against the side of the pool. "That complicates things."

"How does it--" Zabini's face lit up like it was Christmas. "Wait, are you saying you fancy him?"

"No, of course not!" Malfoy spat, though he sounded unconvincing even to Harry.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. He's not bad-looking. And he has a fantastic arse, or haven't you noticed?"

"Of course I've noticed," Malfoy grumbled, and Harry felt himself blush. "But this isn't just any bloke we're talking about; it's Harry bloody Potter. There's a lot of history there, much of it involving me being on the wrong side of it. And did I mention he hates me?"

"I wouldn't be so sure. Isn't Saint Potter all-forgiving?"

"Probably. Not that I care."

Zabini snickered. "Oh, please. You practically came in your trousers yesterday when he deigned to speak to you."

"Fuck you, Blaise. I did no such thing."

"Did I mention his arse?"

Malfoy splashed him in response, and Zabini laughed and ducked under the water for a moment.

"Surely you've thought about it?" Zabini asked when he surfaced.

"Who hasn't?"

"Mmmm, point. Though I've more a mind to get my mouth on Weasley's big cock."

It was all Harry could do not to choke. He'd seen Ron naked, but now he wondered when Zabini had.

"How unfortunate that he's utterly straight and practically married to Granger."

"I've yet to meet a straight man who'll say, No, I'd rather not have my cock sucked, thanks when I'm on my knees right in front of him."

"If you bed Weasley, I'll personally suck your cock, Blaise."

Zabini pretended to yawn. "Been there, done that."

"Fuck you. I never get complaints." Malfoy pulled his swim goggles over his eyes.

"Not to your face," Zabini said, and then swam quickly toward the other end of the pool, leaving Malfoy sputtering.

When Malfoy started his lap a moment later, it seemed a good time for Harry to make his exit. He got back to the office with just enough time to tell Ron what he'd overheard -- though he left out the part about Zabini wanting to suck Ron off.

"So now you know," Ron said as he gathered a stack of papers and stuffed them into his briefcase.

"What do I know, exactly?"

"That Malfoy fancies you. He thinks you have a nice arse."

Harry felt himself grow warm. He hadn't processed that particular comment just yet.

"And he'd probably go out with you if you asked. So now--" He paused to clap Harry on the shoulder and steer him toward the door. "--you just have to decide if that's what you want."

"Right," Harry said. He was going to be completely distracted in this meeting.

*****

Harry had no idea why he'd thought it would get easier after that. Just because he knew that Malfoy wasn't opposed to going out with him didn't mean that Malfoy knew he knew. So for Malfoy, nothing had changed. For Harry, everything had.

For one thing, he'd stopped kidding himself that this was mostly just curiosity about how and why Malfoy got a job in the Wizengamot. He'd given up all pretense the night after overhearing the conversation in the bathroom, when he'd had a particularly vivid dream involving Malfoy and chocolate sauce.

He'd wanked in the shower the next morning, and for the first time he could remember, he wasn't fantasizing about a faceless person on his or her knees before him -- it was definitely about Draco Malfoy.

So yes, he was interested in Malfoy. Definitely interested.

Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to be going out of his way to avoid Harry. He had changed his morning routine entirely and when he saw Harry he would generally turn and go the opposite direction. It wasn't until one Thursday morning in mid-December that Harry finally spotted his chance. Malfoy joined the lift queue and apparently hadn't noticed Harry watching for him in the Atrium, as he did every morning.

He wasn't stalking, he'd told Ron repeatedly. He simply arrived early with his coffee and liked to buy a pastry from the vendor and read the paper while watching the flow of people into the complex. And if he happened to see Malfoy, it was really a coincidence. Mostly.

He joined the queue a few spots behind Malfoy, and then skipped ahead of two wizards heavily engaged in conversation when they didn't notice the queue move forward. One maneuver more and he was standing right behind Malfoy.

"Good morning," he said, and saw Malfoy freeze on the spot.

"Potter," he said as he turned around, a tight expression on his face. "Good morning."

"Keeping busy?"

"I suppose."

"How are things down on your end?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "I'm not allowed to discuss it."

Harry blanched. "Of course." He stared up at Malfoy for a moment. His mind had gone completely blank.

Malfoy sighed. "You should ask about the weather. It's traditionally the next topic of small talk."

"Right. So… cold enough for you?" He grinned.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "If it's all the same to you we can just proceed to the part where you say you'll see me around, I pretend to agree, and we both wish each other a pleasant day even though we don't mean a word of it."

Harry's face fell. "Ah. Of course." He looked away. Maybe he was wasting his time. Maybe Malfoy had been teasing Zabini that day, or maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe Harry's stalking had freaked him out. Again.

They rode the lift together, separated by half a dozen people. They both got off on Level Two, and started their separate ways. Harry walked forward ten feet and then on impulse, turned around.

"Malfoy?"

Malfoy stopped and seemed to steel himself before turning around again.

"I don't hate you. Quite the opposite, in fact. That's all I wanted to tell you." With that he turned around and walked away. Malfoy stood silently for nearly a minute before Harry heard his footsteps heading back down the corridor.

*****

"Are you all right?" Belinda asked as she straddled Harry's waist. "That was far too easy."

"I may not look tough, but you'll have to work a lot harder to do any real damage."

"Don't tempt me," she said as she swung her leg off of him. She held out a hand and helped him to his feet.

"Again," he said, adopting the correct stance this time.

She mirrored him and they circled each other. "You've been quite distracted lately."

"What does the rumor mill think my problem is?" he asked just before rushing her.

She sidestepped and managed to wrap a leg around one of his, bringing him crashing to the ground. A moment later she was sitting on his arse, roughly twisting one arm up behind his back.

"Ow!"

"Don't be such an infant. You did ask me to do damage."

"I was joking, fuck."

She released him and sat next to him on the mat. "Actually, the rumor mill's been a bit quiet about you lately. Why? Want me to start one for you?"

"No, of course not," Harry retorted, pushing himself up to sitting. He rubbed at his arm, which still tingled from the tightness of her grip. "You can do that?"

"Of course. Just tell me what you want people to talk about and I'll make it so."

A smile began to spread slowly across Harry's face. "All right then. Tell everyone that I have a tremendous crush on Draco Malfoy, but he's refused to have anything to do with me, so I'm depressed and pining for him."

Her eyes widened. "Is that true?"

"Does it matter?"

"I suppose not, but… why do you want everyone to think that?"

"Who was it who said the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about at all?" Harry pushed himself to his feet and extended a hand down to her. "I don't care what everyone else thinks. I just want Malfoy to hear it."

"Why?"

"Why not?" He grinned at her.

"All right, consider it done. Shall we go again?"

He stepped back and settled into stance. "Come get me."

*****

Belinda was nothing if not efficient. By the following morning, Harry was on the receiving end of a mix of curious stares and sympathetic looks everywhere he went. Even the cashier in the café, an old witch who was normally astonishingly grumpy, smiled sadly at him and offered him a free pastry.

By lunch time even Ron had heard the rumor. He cornered Harry in the office when the others stepped out for lunch.

"You could have warned me, at least," he said when Harry explained.

"I meant to, but it happened more quickly than I expected."

"I saw Malfoy get some dirty looks from the witches in Misuse of Muggle Artifacts this morning."

"Really?" Harry grinned. "I wonder if he's heard?"

"He looked confused. But I imagine when he finds out, he'll be more than a bit cross at you."

"Better than being ignored," Harry said, unwrapping his sandwich.

"Oh, you're pulling pigtails, then? How mature."

Harry's mouth was full, but he still managed to look affronted. He swallowed down a mouthful of sandwich before saying, "Oh, that's rich! Who was it that--"

"You promised you would never mention that again!" Ron said, his eyes wide.

Harry held up his free hand. "All right, fine. Yes, I'm being immature. But so is he."

"Then you deserve each other."

Harry grinned, though he wasn't completely certain Ron had meant it as a compliment.

*****

The following Monday morning, Harry arrived at the Ministry with two cups of coffee and set out to find Malfoy. He didn't bother waiting for him in the Atrium -- far too public. Instead he settled on a bench just outside the entrance to the offices of the Wizengamot, and waited. He got more than his fair share of strange looks from witches and wizards heading into the offices. He smiled politely and said, "Good morning," and each of them continued past with a mumbled "Morning" and a confused expression.

At last Malfoy came walking down the corridor talking to a witch Harry vaguely remembered from Hogwarts. Malfoy's eyes widened when he saw Harry and the witch walking beside him -- Sarah? Samantha? -- covered a giggle with one hand over her mouth.

"Bye, Draco!" she said in a singsong voice as she walked away. She'd clearly heard the rumor.

"Hi," Malfoy said, staring down at Harry. His cheeks were tinted and Harry found it oddly adorable.

"Hi," Harry replied and held up a cup. "Coffee? I don't know how you take it or if you even like it, but I promise I didn't put a love potion in it." He smiled in a way he hoped was sufficiently ironic.

Malfoy's cheeks pinked a bit more and his lips formed something almost like a smile. "I don't like coffee, but thanks anyway."

Harry shrugged. "More for me, I suppose. So."

"So."

They stared at each other for a moment. Malfoy's eyes had always looked so cold and hard to Harry in the past, but now they were almost warm. He took another sip of coffee to fortify himself. "I suppose you've heard the rumor that I'm on the verge of slitting my own wrists because I'm hopelessly in love with you?"

"I don't listen to gossip."

"Neither do I."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "My grandfather used to say that great minds discussed ideas, while small minds gossiped about other people."

"I always suspected the Ministry was full of idiots."

"So it is."

Malfoy didn't seem to be in a hurry to walk away, but Harry wasn't sure what else to say. He hadn't expected to get this far.

He took a deep breath. "Are you going to the DMLE Christmas party on Friday night?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I hadn't decided. Why?"

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. "Just curious. I'll look for you there. Maybe I could buy you a drink?"

"I think there's an open bar."

"Fetch one for you then. Whatever." He'd hoped to look coolly disaffected, but suspected he rather didn't.

"All right," Malfoy said after a moment. "I'll see you there." He took a step backward and inclined his head toward the entrance of the offices behind him. "I have a meeting."

"Yeah, of course. I do as well, actually." God, that even sounded like a pathetic lie to his own ears.

Malfoy nodded and walked away, something suspiciously like a smile on his angular face.

Harry walked back to his office not quite certain what had just happened. Had they made a date? He had no idea. But the possibility alone made him smile.

*****

"Hold still, Harry. This won't take but a moment." Hermione ran her fingers through his hair again and did something that bordered on painful before stepping back and staring at him through narrowed eyes. "What do you think, Ron?"

"Looks great," Ron said from the adjacent sofa. His eyes were focused on the wireless as he tried in vain to find something about sport to listen to.

Hermione cast an annoyed glance in his direction. "Well, I think you look very handsome. A bit rakish, if I do say so myself."

"Does that mean hot, by any chance? 'Cause I was going for hot."

Hermione looked as if she was desperately trying to think of a response that wouldn't hurt his feelings.

He stood and checked his reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. "That looks great, Hermione. Thanks." It did look good, actually, if a bit more stylish than was typical for him. It suited the black shirt and dark green tie, which Hermione had pointed out matched his eyes as well as paid tribute to Slytherin. Harry wondered why he hadn't thought of that, being gay and all.

"Are we ready then?" Ron asked, finally looking up from the wireless.

"A drink first," Harry said, crossing to a side table where Kreacher had set out a crystal flask and some glasses for them.

"I think there'll be an open bar," Ron said even as he was reaching for a glass. Harry had never seen him turn down a free drink.

"I need some liquid courage." Harry poured them each a few fingers of brandy. "This is either going to go amazingly well or horribly wrong. Either way, I'll need to be inebriated to get through it."

"He likes you, Harry." Hermione took a dainty sip from her glass and seemed to be rolling the brandy around on her tongue. "This is lovely."

"Every time I saw him this week, I acted like a complete idiot. I dropped an entire file in the corridor and papers flew everywhere, just because he smiled at me."

"That's adorable," Hermione replied, with the sort of tone she usually reserved for tiny baby animals. "I'm so excited for you! We'll be like your wingmen tonight."

"His what?" Ron asked.

Harry knocked back the entire glass of brandy. "Great. Just what I need."

"Can we go now?" Ron asked.

"Let me run to the loo," Hermione said.

"They'll have one there!" he called after her, shaking his head. "Why does it always take half an hour to get her into the fireplace?"

Ten minutes later the three of them were stepping out of the lift on Level Two and were immediately greeted by festive music and decorations. The corridors themselves had been lined with swags of holly and evergreens, and twinkling lights covered the ceiling like stars. The party had spilled out of the rec rooms and into the corridors, with well-dressed witches and wizards standing in small groups and chatting amiably, drinks in hand. There was an occasional burst of raucous laughter, and Harry was struck by how incongruous the sound was with his experience of working in these rooms over the last few months.

"This is lovely!" Hermione said as they walked into the recreation area.

This was definitely the result of some impressive magic. There were ornate Christmas trees in every corner and garlands hung from the walls and ceiling. Twinkling lights were everywhere in the air over their heads, almost like tiny fireflies. A band was set up on the far side of the large room playing jazzy versions of holiday songs, and the large queue nearby seemed to be for the bar. The atmosphere was light and festive and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

They made their way to the bar queue, which moved surprisingly quickly, and then found a corner to stand in with their drinks.

"Just think," Ron said, nudging Hermione, "you could be at Hogwarts this very moment supervising revision sessions for First Years."

"I owe Hannah Abbott a favor," she replied. "It's so strange to be there without the two of you."

"I would imagine it's strange to be there and not be in constant peril," Harry quipped.

"Well yes, there is that."

Something caught Harry's eye and he looked up to see a sprig of mistletoe growing down from the garland to hang over Ron's and Hermione's heads.

"Ah yes, someone warned me about that. It's charmed to grow over people who are attracted to one another." He grinned at them.

Ron grinned at Hermione before pulling her in for a kiss, and the mistletoe withdrew. "Charming, if a bit frightening."

"Not hiding anything from me, are you?" she said, winking at Harry. "Why don't you introduce me to some of your co-workers, Ron?"

"Go ahead if you like," Harry said. He'd just spied Malfoy across the room, talking with Zabini. "I'm going to get this over with."

"Good luck," they whispered in unison. Harry took a deep breath before heading across the room.

He saw heads turning and people leaning close to one another to whisper as he walked through the crowd, but he ignored them. People knew he was gay, and it was high time he stopped caring about that. He had to learn to accept himself before he could expect anyone else to do it.

Malfoy caught sight of him when he was halfway across the room and whispered something to Zabini, who nodded and walked away. Harry was relieved -- he'd hoped they would be able to talk in relative privacy.

After an interminable walk through the crowd, he was finally standing face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, current star of his dreams and shower fantasies. Malfoy looked good tonight in a tight, shimmering black shirt and expensively-tailored trousers -- but then, he'd always dressed up well.

"Hi," Harry said, smiling at him.

"Hi," Malfoy replied.

And just like that, there was a sprig of mistletoe winding its way down toward them.

Harry's smile turned into a grin. "Well, that answers that question."

Malfoy looked up. "I suppose it does."

"It won't go away until we do something about it, you know."

"Not here," Malfoy said, glancing around. There were already quite a few people watching them. "Let's go somewhere a bit more private."

Harry followed him through the crowd, doing his best not to stare blatantly at his arse. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt almost giddy. Was this what he was supposed to feel like?

Malfoy led him around the corner to the men's bathroom, and they slipped inside as discreetly as they could. Even this room had been decorated, with floating candles in the lap pool and garlands draped down the hall of shower stalls.

It was quiet -- they seemed to be alone for the moment.

Malfoy stopped and turned to face Harry, his grey eyes surprisingly bright in the dim light. They both looked up as the mistletoe grew down toward them once more.

"So this is the kind that doesn't give up until you appease it with a kiss?" Malfoy asked.

"Only one way to find out."

Malfoy stepped closer and Harry was sure he would be able to hear the pounding of Harry's heart in his chest. Harry leaned in and a moment later felt a soft press of lips against his own.

It was a bit like the first time he'd done magic -- it filled him with excitement and took his breath away.

Malfoy slid an arm around him and pulled him closer, and then there was a press of tongue against his lips. Harry whimpered as the kiss deepened, scorched by every brush of Malfoy's tongue against his own. It wasn't enough; he needed to be closer, to be rougher, more.

He walked Malfoy a few steps backward and pressed him against the door of the nearest shower stall, hands against his shoulders. Malfoy moaned and it was all the encouragement Harry needed. He pushed a knee between Malfoy's thighs and pressed their hips together, suddenly aware that they were both hard. The kiss was frantic now and Malfoy's hands were everywhere -- up inside Harry's untucked shirt, sliding over the curve of his arse, tracing the waistband of his trousers and dipping inside. Harry was vaguely aware that he was shifting his erection against Malfoy's thigh, but he wasn't inclined to feel embarrassed about it.

There was a sound behind them and the noise level rose in the bathroom as voices from the party bounced off the walls. They broke the kiss and stared at each other, panting. Footsteps crossed the room toward the toilet stalls on the other side. A door latched closed. There was the distinct sound of someone pissing into a toilet.

Malfoy's eyes were dark and his lips were wet and a bit swollen. He cupped Harry's jaw with his hand and traced Harry's lower lip with his thumb. Harry opened his mouth and swirled his tongue around it before sucking in into his mouth, eyes locked on Malfoy's. Malfoy grinned, and Harry realized it was an expression he'd never before seen on his face.

A toilet flushed, and then there was a sound of running water at a sink, and then of someone blowing their nose.

Harry was still fellating Malfoy's thumb, and Malfoy leaned in to trace the shell of his ear with the tip of his tongue. He then worked his way down Harry's neck with soft kisses and bites, pausing here and there to suck on sensitive skin. Harry closed his eyes, stunned by the sensations that mouth was wringing out of him already.

At last the footsteps crossed back to the door and left them alone again. For a moment Harry thought about stopping this and suggesting they go back out to the party. It was probably too much too soon, and though he'd hoped they'd make out, he hadn't given much thought to it going further than that. He'd never even kissed a man before now. Was this what he wanted, to fuck Malfoy in the bathroom at a Ministry party?

Then there was a hand stroking his cock through the fabric of his trousers, and his brain went numb.

"Oh-hell-yes!" he said, pulling Malfoy against him hard. Yes, this was what he wanted. This lean hard body pressed against him, the cock that lay just underneath those trousers in his hand -- if he could just figure out how to unfasten them. Malfoy paused to help him right before he was about to rip them open, and then Harry's hand closed around the soft heat of Malfoy's prick, and yes that was exactly it.

Malfoy pulled him backwards into the shower room and closed the door behind them. He pressed Harry back up against it and roughly shoved a hand down Harry's trousers. They were stroking each other and kissing and both of them were nearly incoherent with want. It occurred to Harry that this was what sex was supposed to be like. This was what he'd been missing. It was glorious.

"Merlin, you're so hot like this," Malfoy whispered. He slid down Harry's body and tugged at his trousers, pulling them down his thighs. Harry opened his eyes to see Malfoy on his knees with an expression that bordered on greedy.

"Oh my god," Harry said, and then Malfoy swallowed his cock.

He'd had blowjobs before, of course. Ginny was quite good at giving head, and it had been a highlight of their sex life -- he could close his eyes and let his imagination drift and just feel. But the very idea that Malfoy was now sucking his cock was mind-blowing. This was really happening, and not in his head, and it was all he could not to come right then and there.

Malfoy was moaning around his cock like it was the best thing ever, like he couldn't get enough of it. Despite Zabini's dig a week ago, he was very good at this, using his tongue and hand in concert, with just the right amount of suction. He stroked and sucked and rolled the head in his mouth like he was trying to wrap his tongue around it, and his teeth grazed the foreskin over and over and--

"I'm gonna--" Harry managed, and it was all over. His balls tightened and everything focused down to the rush of sensation in his cock and the feeling of Malfoy's hot mouth surrounding him, sucking him dry, stretching it out until he was sure he'd never come so hard in his entire life.

He slid to the floor the moment Malfoy released his cock, unsure how he'd managed to remain standing that long. He felt dizzy and there were stars in his field of vision. That was probably good. If it wasn't, he didn't care. That had been worth a brain aneurism.

"Just give me a second," he said, letting his head fall back against the wall. "Holy fuck." He opened his eyes to see Malfoy sitting back on his heels, watching him with a smug expression. It occurred to Harry that Malfoy had swallowed. On the first date, no less.

Damn.

His eyes drifted down to Malfoy's cock, still at attention. Malfoy wrapped a hand around it and began stroking himself.

"Oh no you don't," Harry said, pushing himself to sitting. "That's mine."

He settled next to Malfoy on the floor and batted his hand away. It felt odd to have someone else's cock in his hand after thinking about it for so long. And he had thought about it for a long time, he had to admit. Even before Ginny had forced him to face facts, he'd thought about it.

He stroked Malfoy's cock slowly, lingering at the head and rubbing the foreskin against that spot that felt so good for him -- he hoped it was universal. Malfoy closed his eyes and made an encouraging sound.

"Tell me how you like it," Harry whispered, leaning in close enough that his lips brushed Malfoy's ear. "What do you want me to do?"

"That's perfect," Malfoy replied, his voice trembling slightly. "Maybe a bit faster."

Harry complied, using his fingers to tug the foreskin over the sensitive head and twist, circling over that sweet spot with his thumb. It was how he liked it -- indirect but seriously intense.

"I've been thinking about this," he whispered. "Wondering what you look like when you come. If you make a lot of noise, or none at all."

Malfoy was panting now and leaned into Harry's shoulder. Harry leaned down and caught his lips in a kiss, matching the rhythm of it with the movement of his hand. Malfoy moaned into his mouth and thrust his hips forward and then Harry felt his cock pulse under his fingers.

They were still kissing a few minutes after, slow and soft, as if they couldn't get enough. Harry wondered when they could do it again.

"I'm not particularly interested in this party," Malfoy said after a moment. "Want to get out of here?"

"Absolutely," Harry replied, and traced his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Want to come to mine?"

"Considering that I share a flat with my mother, I was hoping you'd suggest that." Harry felt a smile under his lips.

"I don't know about you, but I'd rather do it on a softer surface next time."

"Sounds perfect to me."

Malfoy deepened the kiss and Harry felt his cock beginning to grow interested all over again. He forced himself to sit back. "Either we leave now or I'm transfiguring something into a bed."

"Right," Malfoy replied, and pushed himself to his feet. "What's the exit plan?"

"Move fast?" Harry suggested. "If we stop, we'll be accosted by mistletoe, among other things. Though I have to admit that mistletoe was very handy."

"I don't think we're going to need mistletoe, Potter. Lube, perhaps."

Harry felt heat blossom in his cheeks and Malfoy leaned in to kiss him.

"Don’t get bashful on me now."

Harry decided right then and there he'd make Malfoy blush before the night was over.

They redressed and made a hasty exit, ignoring a few cat calls and knowing looks as they did. Harry managed to catch Ron and Hermione's eye as they walked out, and both of them grinned. They'd probably grin a lot less when they realized it would be the four of them at Grimmauld Place that night.

Harry didn't care, though. For the first time in a long time, he honestly didn't care about anything except what he felt right now.

*****

[Epilogue: Four months later…]

Harry yawned and reached for the coffee pot. Kreacher had become quite good at making coffee, despite his initial protests that no decent pureblood would touch the vile stuff. The fact that Draco had decided he liked it made Kreacher change his opinion rather quickly.

"Morning," Draco said as he stumbled into the kitchen. He kissed Harry's forehead and slumped into a chair next to him. "What was all that noise last night anyway?"

"Do you really want to know?" Harry dropped a lump of sugar into his cup and stirred.

Draco squinted at the coffee pot. "Does this have something to do with you getting up around 1:00 am? I seem to remember that."

"It does indeed."

At that moment, the sound of two sets of footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Draco groaned. "Please don't tell me I was awakened repeatedly overnight by the sound of Granger and Weasley fucking in the next room."

"All right, I won't tell you." Harry took sip of coffee.

"Why do they always come here? Don't they have a place of their own to shag in?" Draco's voice took on a slight whinge that Harry found incredibly endearing.

"Hermione lives at Hogwarts and Mrs. Weasley is convinced all of her unmarried children are still virgins. And hey, this is a big house."

"Which explains why they always wind up in the adjacent room, does it? Couldn't they at least pick another floor?"

"Morning!" Hermione said brightly. She settled across the table from Draco, grinning far more than someone who'd had so little sleep ought to do.

"Morning," Ron added as he settled beside her. He smiled politely at Draco, who returned it. The two of them accepted each other's presence for Harry's sake, but Harry had the sense it would turn ugly if he wasn't there to referee.

"Thanks for letting us stay over," Hermione said. "I hope we didn't cause too much of a disturbance, arriving so late?"

"Not at all," Harry replied.

Draco poured himself a cup of coffee. "I didn't hear a thing through the wall at 1:30 am, nor at 2:30, or--"

Harry was prepared to kick him under the table, but Kreacher picked that exact moment to bring them an elaborate breakfast, and to Harry's relief, Draco stopped talking. The conversation turned to Ministry politics briefly, and then Hermione spent a good twenty minutes explaining the issues the Hogwarts staff were having rebuilding the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom.

"No one can agree what's best and it's giving everyone such a headache. Potions wasn't nearly as much trouble, but--"

"Sorry," Draco said, pushing himself to standing, "but I'm afraid I must leave this delightful conversation. It's Sunday and my mother expects me for lunch. Harry, should I give her your regrets?"

"I'll be along shortly," Harry replied. He actually enjoyed visiting Mrs. Malfoy. She was a surprisingly charming person when not under the thumb of a Dark Lord. She'd welcomed Harry with far more enthusiasm than he'd expected, almost as if she was relieved her son had settled down with someone considered respectable.

"You two are so sweet," Hermione said after he'd gone. "How is it going with him living here?"

"It's going well, actually." And it was. It had been a bit over a month since Draco had moved in, and Harry could honestly say he'd never been happier.

"That's fantastic," Hermione said. Ron nudged her and they exchanged one of those looks that Harry had come to learn meant there was something they weren't telling him.

"Out with it, please," he said. "You're starting to worry me."

Hermione sighed. "Ginny's getting married."

"Oh, is that all? I thought you were going to tell me you were pregnant or something." Harry grinned at their looks of surprise. "Oh, honestly, you two. She firecalled me the night he proposed. Gorgeous ring. She seems very happy." He thought it best to leave out the part where she'd gone on to describe what an amazing cock her new fiancé had, and how they'd shared blow job tips and laughed themselves silly.

Hermione poured herself another cup of tea. "I told you he'd be fine with it."

"You were right," Ron said drily. They were practically married already.

"So what are you two planning for today?" Harry asked. They exchanged an awkward glance and he laughed. "Of course. Have at it. We'll be back mid-afternoon, in case you want to get crazy."

Ron grinned at him and Hermione blushed furiously.

Draco was still getting dressed when he got upstairs, and Harry paused to pull him into a kiss. "Sorry about all of that. I'll make it up to you tonight, I promise."

"Yes, you will." Draco's smile was wicked.

"Or I could make it up to you now," Harry said, dropping to his knees.

"We're going to be late."

"I'll be quick." Harry was already unfastening Draco's trousers.

"There had better not be any suspicious stains on my trousers when you're through."

"You think your Mother will mind, do you?"

"That's not even remotely funny."

"I'm about to suck your cock, Draco. Deal with it."

A moment later Draco's attitude had changed entirely. Curious, that.

fin