~*~

"When did Pansy Parkinson get so fucking hot?"

Ron chuckled and took a sip from the scotch and soda he was holding. He didn't even bother to look across the crowded reception hall to where she was standing, surrounded by beautiful people in elegant robes. "It's about time you noticed, mate."

Harry shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from the shape of Pansy's arse under the tight black skirt she was wearing. "She was never that fit at school."

Across the room, Pansy laughed and tilted her head back, and her short dark hair brushed her shoulders, swaying in time to the music. Her face was turned just enough toward them that Harry could make out a brilliant smile. He shook his head again, unable to believe he'd missed it all these years.

"Who are you two gawking at?" Neville appeared behind Ron's shoulder, a martini glass in hand. "Oh, Parkinson?" He snorted and took a sip of his bright green drink.

"What about her?" Harry asked, turning to face Neville. "Do you know something?"

Neville pursed his lips and looked as if he was trying not to grin. "Just that you wouldn't have a chance with her."

"Why not?" Ron asked, sounding offended on Harry's behalf. "Harry's not bad looking."

Neville's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I know. But trust me -- he's not her type."

It was Harry's turn to chuckle. "How would you know her type?"

Neville made a sound of mock exasperation. "Just trust me for once, would you? Suffice it to say that I'd have a better chance with her than you would."

Ron made a choking sound. "Come off it, Neville. You're gay."

Neville smiled. "Exactly."

Harry looked at Neville, then to Pansy, then back to Neville again. "Wait a moment -- you're saying her type is… that she likes men who are gay?"

"Sounds a bit self-defeating," Ron said with a snort.

"It's pathetic, actually," Neville sighed. "But she's dated a string of men who came out of the closet within a week of breaking it off with her. Starting with you know who."

Harry nearly dropped his drink. "What?"

Neville rolled his eyes. "Oh, not him, for fuck's sake. I meant Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy?" Harry repeated. "I didn't know he was gay."

This time, both Neville and Ron looked incredulous.

"How could you not know that?" Neville asked.

"Yeah, mate," Ron said. "Even I knew that."

Harry felt his cheeks flush, and he looked back to where Pansy was standing. She was radiant, beautiful, stylish -- everything he wanted in a woman. He could stare at her for hours, just admiring her. And as luck would have it, she would never be interested in someone like him. "Not fair," he sighed, turning back to his friends.

Neville's smile was wistful, and he avoided Harry's eyes.

~*~

It came to him while he was in the shower soaping his face with his eyes squeezed shut. It was such a brilliant thought that he opened them in surprise, which only led to several minutes of swearing and rinsing them out under the spray.

He flooed to the office and headed straight to the third floor, not even bothering to knock on Neville's door before bursting through it.

"Harry?" Neville asked, looking up from the parchment he was writing on. "Are you all right? You look a bit--"

"Can I talk to you about something?" Harry blurted, closing the door behind him. Neville nodded in response, and Harry didn't wait to be invited before sitting in the chair opposite Neville's desk. "I've been thinking about what you said last night."

Neville's face lit up. "About the Randkings investigation? That's fantastic, because--"

"No, no," Harry said, waving his hand. "About Pansy Parkinson." Neville stared at him, as if not quite believing what he'd just heard. Harry decided to plow ahead before he lost his nerve. "You said last night that she likes men who are gay, so I was thinking--"

"Oh, no," Neville said, sinking down in his chair. "No-no-no. I know what you're going to say, and let me tell you now that it's a bad idea."

"Will you listen first?" Harry snapped. "I was thinking I could just pretend to be gay, just enough to get her attention, and then--"

"Let her change your mind?" Neville finished. "Harry, that is a horrid idea."

"No, it's brilliant!" Harry said. "I'll pretend like I'm confused, and she'll want to try to convert me, and it'll be great!"

"Will you listen to yourself?" Neville spat. "You can't just pretend to be gay! It doesn't work that way."

"You could help me," Harry suggested. "In fact, I was thinking you could pretend to be my boyfriend."

Neville's jaw clenched at that. "I have a boyfriend."

Harry flushed. "You do?"

"Some friend you are," Neville grumbled. "Not that I'd expect anything different."

"Come on, Neville," Harry said. "Please help me. I really like her."

"You don't even know her."

"Well… I'm sure I'll like her when I get to know her."

Neville rolled his eyes. "You just want to fuck her. At least be honest about your motives."

"Yes, of course," Harry grinned. "Does that mean you'll help me?"

Neville closed his eyes and massaged his temples. "Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?"

"Her knickers, I hope. If she even wears them."

Neville looked up at him and frowned. "Fine. But don't blame me when this goes pear-shaped." He sighed, then continued almost reluctantly, "There's a party down in Brighton on Saturday night, and Louis and I are going."

"Who's Louis?" Harry asked.

Neville gave him a scathing look before continuing. "And I'd bet ten galleons that Malfoy will be there, and if Malfoy is there, she'll be draped on his arm."

"Why Malfoy?"

"They're friends," Neville explained. "If you ask me, she's still in love with him. Which would explain a lot. Anyway, if you dress up a bit and try your best to seem interested in every boy there, you just might catch her eye. After that, I want no part of it."

"You're the best, Neville," Harry said, grinning.

Neville snorted something under his breath about wishing Harry had noticed that sooner, but didn't look up as Harry left the room.

~*~

Louis turned out to be Louis Lampkin, a Hufflepuff who'd been two years behind them at Hogwarts. He was surprisingly flustered by Harry's presence, stumbling over his words and patting his hair down every minute or so. That didn't stop him from talking a hundred miles an hour, though.

While Louis chattered, Neville made adjustments to Harry's attire with some choice spells. His movements were a bit stiff, as if he were struggling to contain his annoyance that Louis seemed more interested in Harry than in him.

"So," Harry said, cutting Louis off in the middle of a rather detailed account of one of the last times he'd seen Harry play Quidditch, "how did you and Neville meet?" Louis's face was blank for a split second, and then he started to talk again with as much enthusiasm as he'd just had for Quidditch.

Two minutes into a story that was rather a bit too detailed for Harry's comfort, Neville mercifully cut Louis off. "Sweetie, would you go get a comb from the front bathroom?" Louis bounced away, and Neville stepped close enough to Harry to whisper. "Are you sure you're going to be okay with all of this?"

"Of course," Harry replied. "I'll be fine."

Neville looked hesitant. "So… how far are you willing to go?"

Harry blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"What would you do to get her attention? Would you flirt with a man? Kiss him?"

Harry swallowed. "I… I hadn't really thought about it."

"That's what I figured," Neville said, giving him a knowing look.

Harry felt his cheeks redden. "I have actually kissed a man before, you know."

Neville looked uncomfortable. "And we both know how much you enjoyed it, don't we?" He sighed and patted Harry on the shoulder almost hesitantly. "Look, this party is… well, it's usually a big hookup scene, and you should expect to get hit on." He glanced down Harry's form and back up again. "A lot."

"Well, I'll just have to get her to notice me quickly."

"And if she doesn't?"

Harry forced a cocky smile. "Don't worry, Neville. This is going to work."

Neville opened his mouth to respond, but Louis bounced back in with the comb in hand before he could say anything more.

~*~

They apparated all together, Louis clenching one of Neville's arms and Harry the other, since only Neville knew where they were going. They found themselves in a garage, lit only by a sparkling arrow someone had charmed to hang in the air and point towards a closed door. Light and sound were spilling around the edges of the door, which seemed to be throbbing in time to a bass beat.

"Ready?" Neville asked, digging an elbow into Harry's side. He looked concerned.

Harry smiled at him, albeit stiffly. "Of course. Let's go in, shall we?"

Neville didn't look convinced, but Louis squealed and tugged them toward the door. Harry followed, trying to ignore his mounting apprehension.

Neville pushed the door open and the three of them stepped into the room. Music was playing, magically amplified to a volume that bordered on deafening. The air above their heads was filled with miniature fireworks that shimmered and sparkled against the ceiling like the lights in a disco. Trays of food and drinks were floating around, charmed to hover before anyone who paused to look at their contents. One carrying equal amounts of condoms and bite-sized quiches bumped Harry as it passed, and a muscular shirtless man on one of the condom packages waved at him. The tray started to circle back to show Harry its wares, so he turned away as quickly as he could.

Louis was pulling Neville into the crowd, already dancing to the teeth-rattling beat. Harry tried to follow, but there were so many people in the room that it was difficult to keep up. Someone groped him from behind, and he turned to see a man give him a lascivious wink before slinking away into the crowd. When Harry turned around again, Neville and Louis were nowhere in sight.

"Fuck," he hissed, folding his arms over his sparkly-shirt-clad chest. People were giving him funny looks, and a few were even pointing and whispering. Why had he thought this was a good idea? He'd only wind up in the papers again, and he'd get no end of grief about it at work.

He decided to make a round of the house, moving from room to room as best he could. He'd have to run into Neville sooner or later. Within a minute, he'd managed to get a drink spilled on him, its owner frowning in annoyance until he caught sight of Harry and offered to lick it off. Harry politely declined and kept going into the next room, which was just as crowded. He stopped in the middle and turned slowly, trying to scan faces as best he could.

"Potter?"

Harry winced -- he knew that voice. He turned his head to see Draco Malfoy standing uncomfortably close, staring at him. He was dressed impeccably and looked quite different than he had the last time Harry had seen him. Of course, that was several years ago, and none of them had been themselves by the end of the War. And none of them had worn their trousers quite so tight back then either. Harry frowned.

"I must admit you were the last person I expected to see here tonight." Malfoy raised an eyebrow and let his gaze drift down to the rather tight trousers Neville had transfigured from Harry's jeans.

Harry found himself completely at a loss for words. He'd expected to get hit on, but not by someone he actually knew. Well, despised was more like it. But it wasn't as if he'd really ever known Malfoy, after all. He pursed his lips in an effort not to frown.

"You seem to be without a drink," Malfoy said, a strange smile playing at the corners of his lips.

A sarcastic retort was on the tip of Harry's tongue, but the thought that Pansy might be nearby kept it at bay. He forced as much of a smile as he could manage. "I only just arrived, actually. I don't suppose you could show me to the bar?"

Malfoy regarded him for a moment before turning and working his way through the crowd. Harry did his best to follow, and tried to ignore the gazes that were turned on him in Malfoy's wake. He received a few pinches as well, but he kept following, keeping his eyes on the back of Malfoy's head. He hoped the bar area was less crowded.

It wasn't. Malfoy pushed his way towards an elaborate mahogany bar that looked to have been transfigured from an ancient china cupboard. He disappeared from view momentarily, and Harry tried not to look as awkward as he felt standing there in the middle of a crowd, alone.

"Hey," a voice said in his ear. He turned to see a shirtless man with spiky blue hair leering at him. "Aren't you Harry Potter?"

Harry stared at him in response, trying to decide if he could reasonably get away with lying.

The blue-haired man's eyes were locked on Harry's forehead, though, and he sidled closer and ran one hand over Harry's arse. "I didn't know you were gay, but I've certainly fantasized about it." His eyes were a bit too dilated, and he was slurring his words. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Harry's ear. "Want me to show you?"

At that moment, Malfoy reappeared with two drinks in hand, and Harry was almost relieved to see him. Malfoy shot the man a scathing glance, and Harry had to bite his lip to keep himself from grinning at the speed with which he disappeared.

"Did you come here alone?" Malfoy asked, steering him towards a doorway.

"No," Harry replied. "I'm here with Neville, actually." At Malfoy's look of surprise, he added, "And his boyfriend."

They went through the doorway into a room that was much less crowded, though just as dimly lit. There were sofas and chairs placed around, and most of them had people draped on them, bodies entwined to varying degrees. The queasiness in Harry's stomach solidified into a knot at the sight. Had he just escaped a drunken groping session with a stranger only to be brought right to one with Malfoy?

Malfoy tugged his sleeve and nodded to a group of people in a corner, and Harry's heart skipped a beat. Pansy Parkinson was there, seated on a sofa, her head thrown back as she laughed. She was wearing a form-fitting white dress that glowed in the blacklight, so she was quite difficult to miss. She leaned forward to touch someone's arm and her breasts threatened to spill out the front of the dress. Her lips were painted a stunning shade of red, standing out from her pale skin and dark hair.

She was perfect. Harry could do nothing but stare at her.

Malfoy took Harry's arm and pushed him toward the corner, stopping him before Pansy. Her eyes widened when she saw Harry, and she gave Malfoy a quizzical look.

"Look what I found," Malfoy said, settling on the sofa next to her and sipping his drink. He looked up at Harry as if he were appraising him. "The great Harry Potter, hero of the Wizarding world. He was wandering around like a little lost sheep, not even sure where the bar was."

Pansy's lips twisted into a smile. "Poor boy. I see you helped him with that."

Harry raised his glass and smiled at her in return. He looked back at Malfoy, who was still studying him with a look of interest.

Gay, Harry thought. If he doesn't think I'm gay, she never will. Though it was against his better instincts, he smiled at Malfoy in a way he hoped was alluring. "Mind if I join you?"

"Budge over a bit, darling," Pansy said, giving Malfoy a shove and patting the sofa.

Harry managed to squeeze between the two of them. He turned to see Pansy beaming at him, and resisted the urge to return the smile. Instead, he turned to look at Malfoy.

"I didn't know you were gay," Malfoy said, swirling his drink. "I haven't seen you at any clubs or parties. Not even the ones Longbottom manages to get invited to."

Harry shrugged and studied his own drink. "Well, I… don't get out much these days."

Pansy's hand on his thigh made him jump a little, and he turned to look at her. "I'd say he's just come out. Look how skittish he is. Poor lost puppy." She winked at him.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Malfoy's hand landed on his other thigh, and he turned again. He'd get dizzy at this rate.

"Yes," Malfoy said, leering. His fingers edged up Harry's thigh a little, causing Harry to squirm. "He is a bit skittish."

"He needs someone to take care of him, Draco," Pansy purred. "To make sure he doesn't get into any trouble here tonight."

Malfoy squeezed Potter's thigh, his fingertips almost brushing the crease at his hip. "What makes you think he won't get into any trouble with me?"

"I'm here, you know," Harry said, pushing Malfoy's hand away as casually as he could manage. "You don't have to speak about me as if I'm not."

Pansy laughed and moved closer, crushing her breasts against Harry's shoulder. "We don't mean any harm, do we Draco? It's a good thing he snatched you up, you know. There's no telling what sort of predator out there might have managed to get his hands on a fresh piece of meat like you." She leaned closer and whispered, "You'd have been on your back in the cloakroom with three pricks in you before you knew what happened."

Malfoy snickered at that, and Harry took a big swallow of his drink, trying to work out where the third prick would have to go.

"Go get us another round, would you darling?" Pansy simpered, batting her eyelashes at Malfoy.

Malfoy gave her a knowing smile, then stood and disappeared into the crowd. Harry turned back to Pansy, delighted at this opportunity to be alone with her. He hadn't imagined it would happen so quickly.

Pansy grinned at him. "He likes you. I can tell."

"Does he?" Harry asked. He hadn't got that impression at all.

"He wouldn't have brought you to me otherwise," she replied. She reached up to brush hair out of his eyes, and he nearly shivered at the contact. "He would have just taken you off to the toilet to fuck you, and I would've heard the details later."

"Does he always tell you about that sort of thing?" Harry asked, finishing his drink.

"Yes," she replied, her eyes boring into his. "We're flatmates, you know. Sometimes he even lets me watch."

Harry had a sudden flash of Pansy peeking through a keyhole, her hand furiously working between her thighs, and he had to squirm in his seat. "Really?" was all he could manage to say in response.

"Yes," she replied, her voice huskier than it had been before. She blinked, and long dark eyelashes fluttered against her cheek. "I like to watch."

Harry found himself transfixed. He wondered if it would be foolish to try to kiss her, but Malfoy reappeared before he had a chance to decide. He handed them fresh drinks and settled next to Harry again, this time draping an arm around the back of the sofa behind Harry's shoulders.

"Don't believe a word she says, Potter," he quipped. The tips of his fingers trailed across the bare skin at the back of Harry's neck, and Harry shivered. Malfoy leaned closer, so close Harry could feel his breath against his ear. "I've never let her watch."

Harry slung back half his drink.

The next hour became a blur of brushes of hands and innuendos and inside jokes Harry didn't get. He lost count of how many drinks he'd had, and he'd forgotten where he was by the time he realized Neville was hovering over him, looking concerned.

"Harry? I said we're leaving. Are you coming with us?" The look on Neville's face made it clear that he wasn't giving Harry a choice.

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, struggling to stand. "I suppose I should."

"Oh, don't go now, Harry," Pansy simpered, reaching for his hand. "We'll take care of him, Neville."

"I'm sure you would," Neville replied, his voice stiff. He tugged Harry towards the door.

They had apparated back to Harry's flat before Harry had a chance to process what had happened. "Hey," he protested as Neville led him into his own bedroom and helped him undress. "I wasn't ready to go."

"Yes," Neville sighed, unfastening Harry's trousers. "You were."

"I was having fun."

"Of course you were. Step out."

Harry stepped out of his trousers and stumbled backward onto his bed. Neville struggled with his shirt for a moment, then sighed and reached for his wand. A moment later, Harry was naked.

"Oops," Neville said. "I'm used to casting that spell for another reason. Under the covers with you." He tucked Harry in and petted his hair, looking down at him. "Have you got some hangover potion?"

"Think so," Harry mumbled. He closed his eyes, and the room began to spin.

"You're going to need it in the morning. Good night." There was a pause, and Harry felt Neville's lips brush his.

"You kissed me again," Harry mumbled, but Neville didn't respond. Harry heard the door click shut, and he fell asleep.

~*~

Harry didn't leave his flat the next day. His hangover was one of the worst he could remember having, and the details of his night in Brighton were just hazy enough that trying to remember them made him feel queasy. He'd made a complete arse of himself, he was sure. Pansy and Malfoy were probably still laughing about it, about how obviously out of place he'd been.

He avoided Neville at work on Monday and Tuesday of the following week, mortified that he'd had to be rescued and put to bed like a child. He didn't want to think about what might have happened had he stayed at the party.

He'd almost convinced himself to forget about Pansy altogether when the owl arrived. It was large and sleek, and the moment Harry saw it, he knew whose it had to be. The note was written on expensive parchment in a refined hand, and it released a woodsy fragrance when he unrolled it.

Potter,

I do hope you've recovered from the events of last weekend. I must apologize for being such a poor host and making you drink quite so much. I hope you'll let me make it up to you? I'm attending a private charity event in Scotland this Thursday evening, and I would be pleased if you'd join me in attending.

Draco Malfoy

Harry read the note three times before it registered that Malfoy was asking him out. He leaned back against his desk, shocked. Did Malfoy actually believe he was gay? And even more surprising, was he interested in Harry?

Malfoy's owl tossed its head and made a sound of annoyance. Apparently it wasn't going to leave without a reply. Harry stared at the note again, the woodsy scent filling his nose. He didn't like Malfoy, but he had no good reason to continue holding a grudge against him after all these years. Malfoy had been pivotal in the War effort, after all, even though his involvement was largely classified. And he'd led a fairly respectable life ever since -- well, not counting the flamboyantly gay thing, anyway.

It was just an evening, and he'd be home before bedtime. And besides, it might mean a chance to see Pansy again, and he ought to take it. He nodded to the owl and reached for a quill.

~*~

"Are you mad?" Neville spat.

Harry clenched his jaw. "It's not like that."

"You're going on a date with Malfoy, Harry! What are you thinking?"

"He and Pansy are flatmates. I'll get to see her again."

"Harry, he's… he's a prick, the worst kind! He fucks around with anyone who'll have him, uses them in the worst ways, and then tosses them aside when he'd bored of them. He's not worth--"

"Relax, will you?" Harry spat. "None of that matters, because I'm not interested in him. This is about Pansy."

Neville sank into a chair and shook his head. "This is not going to end well."

"Of course it will," Harry said. "You said it yourself -- he'll get bored of me in a week and toss me aside, and I can go crying to Pansy."

"That's idiotic."

"No it isn't," Harry retorted. "It's brilliant. And all I have to do is pretend I'm interested in Malfoy for a few days."

Neville snorted. "Oh, that's all. And how are you planning to show him you're interested?" Harry frowned, and Neville looked up. "He's going to expect a little more than a smile, you know. If you won't even kiss him, he'll know you aren't really gay."

"I'll figure something out," Harry replied.

"Like what?" Neville asked, incredulous.

"I don't know," Harry said, scowling at Neville in frustration. "But I will."

Neville looked thoroughly unconvinced. "Right."

~*~

At 7:00 on Thursday evening, Harry knocked on the ornate door of the Mayfair flat Malfoy and Pansy shared. After a moment, the door opened to reveal Pansy, to Harry's delight. She was dressed casually, though she looked no less beautiful than she had the previous weekend. He wondered if she always looked so stylish just hanging around the flat.

"Hello, Harry," she said, smiling. "Draco's still getting dressed. You know how boys can be." She winked and stepped back, waving him in.

She led him to the sofa and settled beside him, smiling at him. "Did you come right from the office?"

"Erm, yeah," Harry replied, blushing. He'd been uncertain how to dress for the evening, so he'd settled for business robes, assuming that would be fine. "Should I have changed?"

"We'll leave that to Draco," she said, scooting a bit closer. "He's the expert. He dresses me when we go out."

"Was that dress you were sewn into last weekend his idea, then?"

"Of course," she said, beaming. "The shrinking charm was his idea. And I could never have got my tits arranged in that bustier without help."

Harry couldn't resist raising an eyebrow in response, and she laughed. He grinned at her, captivated by her dark eyes. He wondered if she'd let him help her dress sometime. And would she mind terribly when his hand slipped just a bit?

"Well, well, aren't we cozy?" Malfoy's head appeared between them as he leaned over the back of the sofa. "Hoping Harry swings both ways, are you?"

Harry jumped in surprise, but Pansy just laughed. "You know me too well, darling. But he's all yours, I'm afraid." With that, she winked and stood, and Harry was torn between relief and discomfort that she didn't suspect his ruse. "Just don't make too much noise when you return tonight, boys. I get grumpy when I don't get my beauty sleep." She slinked past Malfoy, planted a chaste kiss on his lips, and then disappeared into what Harry assumed was her bedroom.

"Shall we?" Malfoy asked, holding out one arm.

Harry stared at him for a moment before realizing Malfoy was offering to apparate him to their destination. Since he had no idea where they were going, there wasn't much of a choice. He grasped Malfoy's arm and was startled when Malfoy tugged the sleeve of his robe and pulled him close. Harry tried not to react, but he was nearly overwhelmed by the same woodsy scent that had spilled from Malfoy's note earlier that week. He looked up and found himself nose to chin with Malfoy. Malfoy was taller than him by several inches. Harry usually wasn't self-conscious about his height, but for some reason he felt a bit intimidated.

"Relax," Malfoy said, looking down. "I don't bite." He winked and slid his arms around Harry's torso in what was nearly an embrace. "Unless I'm asked very nicely. Hold on tight."

Harry wasn't sure if the lurching in his stomach was from the apparition or the feeling of Malfoy's arms around him, but he didn't want to think about it. He opened his eyes to find himself in a cloakroom in what seemed to be a well-appointed private home. He stepped away from Malfoy, trying to shake off the uneasiness he felt.

"Do you mind?" Malfoy asked, brandishing his wand and gesturing at Harry.

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

"You're not exactly dressed for the occasion," Malfoy said. "Just hold still." Against his better judgment Harry resisted the urge to bolt for the door, and he found himself dressed in very stylish robes a moment later. "Much better," Malfoy said, putting his wand away and smiling as if he hadn't just insulted Harry's sense of style. "Shall we?"

Harry followed him through the door and out into the main room of the house, dread building in his belly. Malfoy took two offered glasses of champagne from a young man dressed in servants' robes and handed one to Harry.

"Here we go," Malfoy said, clinking his glass lightly against Harry's and taking a sip.

Harry smiled and followed suit. It was lovely champagne, the sort one doesn't get to have very often and is a reminder of just how wonderful champagne can be. It wasn't until he was standing in the midst of a crowd of elegantly dressed witches and wizards with half a glass of champagne in his stomach that Harry realized he'd forgotten to ask what charity the event was for.

It didn't matter, it turned out, as everyone seemed more interesting in chatting Harry up than in talking about why they were there. Malfoy worked the room effortlessly, steering Harry from group to group and introducing him as if he were a guest of honor. Harry's name still carried quite a bit of weight in the Wizarding world, and he soon found himself shaking hands with admirers left and right. Harry began to wonder if Malfoy had brought him there to bolster his own image instead of out of any sort of personal interest.

No one seemed to question why the war hero Harry Potter was attending such a function with the Wizarding world's most infamous gay playboy, and Harry was grateful that Malfoy didn't present him as anything more than an acquaintance. In fact, Malfoy not only distanced himself from Harry; he all but abandoned him after half an hour.

Harry didn't mind at first, but after an hour of making small talk with people he barely knew, he began to feel a bit annoyed. He excused himself from a charming couple who'd been pestering him to tell (for the fourth time that evening) what had happened the night he'd faced Voldemort, and went in search of Malfoy.

He finally found him chatting with a young waiter in the kitchen, the same one who'd been plying them with champagne all evening. They were laughing when Harry came in, and standing closer together than seemed appropriate. Malfoy reached out to stroke the man's cheek with one finger and an inexplicable wave of irritation came over Harry. He cleared his throat.

Malfoy's eyes widened when he saw Harry, and he stepped away from the waiter a bit too hastily. "Hi," he said, plastering a smile on his face.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then turned and left the room. He didn't know why the sight of Malfoy flirting with the waiter had bothered him. It wasn't as if he was really interested in Malfoy, after all. This whole date was a sham, a ruse to get Pansy to notice him.

He found his way back to the cloakroom and sat on a bench, flustered. It was the principle of the thing, really. Hadn't Malfoy brought Harry as his date? Was this really the way he treated people, just as Neville had said? He was just confused -- that was all. Malfoy wasn't really interested in him. He'd been using Harry, just as Harry was using Malfoy. Harry sighed. It was for the best that he'd been reminded of that fact.

The door opened a few minutes later, and Malfoy peeked through, looking contrite. Harry glared at him without thinking. Malfoy winced and stepped through the door, closing it behind him. "This is a bad start, isn't it?"

Harry snorted. "Is this what I should expect when we go on a date? Perhaps it's best I find out now." It was remarkably easy to pout.

Malfoy sighed and crossed to Harry, then sat on the bench beside him. "We were just talking, and you were busy, so--"

"Busy talking to all those people I don't know!" Harry snapped. "Which you were supposed to be doing, but you left me there to go and flirt with a fucking… waiter." Harry looked up to see that Malfoy was staring at him with an odd expression. He shook his head and stood. "Some first date. I think I've had enough."

"Wait," Malfoy said, standing and catching him by the shoulders. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you... I mean…" He stared at Harry for a long uncomfortable second, and then lunged forward and kissed him.

Harry found himself pressed back against a wall of robes, his mouth full of Malfoy's tongue. He was too stunned to do anything but let himself be kissed. It turned out that Malfoy was quite a good kisser, which surprised Harry for some reason. And the moment that thought finally penetrated his mind, he came to his senses and shoved Malfoy away.

"What the hell?" he spat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Malfoy looked confused. "I…"

Harry's mind was spinning. He'd just been snogged by Draco Malfoy, of all people, and he'd reacted like an awkward school girl in the Astronomy Tower. He ought to apparate out of there and pretend it had never happened. But if he did, he'd lose any chance he had with Pansy. He ran a hand through his hair and scowled at Malfoy, a plan forming in his mind. "You think a kiss makes up for the way you've treated me tonight?"

"No, I--"

"You're going to have to do better than that," Harry said. He stepped forward and pushed Malfoy back against the door, hard enough that his head bumped against it. He planted one hand on either side of Malfoy's head and glared at him. "I'm not one of your little tricks. I'm not someone you get to fuck and toss aside. If you want me, you're going to have to work for it."

Malfoy just stared at him, his eyes wide with surprise. His breathing was ragged and his cheeks were flushed, and Harry felt a small thrill when he realized it wasn't from anger -- Malfoy was turned on. He probably had some sort of kinky streak and liked being dominated, for all Harry knew. A shiver of something far too much like desire snaked through Harry's groin at that. Malfoy's lips were parted, and so close. Harry considered kissing him again, just to prove he was in control here.

He stepped back, releasing Malfoy. He'd had too many glasses of champagne, and he was just getting a bit confused -- that was all. Besides, he hadn't had sex in a month, and he'd been oddly randy for the last few days. He could hardly be expected to think straight under these circumstances, could he?

"Potter--" Malfoy began, but Harry straightened his transfigured robes and disapparated without another word.

Back in his own flat, he lay under the sheets for a long time before finally letting his hand drift below the waistband of his pyjamas. He thought about Pansy, imagining her red lips wrapped around his cock, and he stroked himself hard and fast. But in the end it was an image of Malfoy on his knees in that cloakroom that finished him off.

~*~

Malfoy's owl showed up at his office window at 9:00 sharp the next morning. Harry tore up the message without reading it. The owl's eyes widened in surprise and it flew away in a huff.

Of course, his curiosity got the better of him after ten minutes, so he retrieved the pieces from the bin and cast a spell to put the parchment back together.

Harry,

I'm an arse. Come over tonight and I'll make it up to you.

Draco

Harry rolled his eyes and tore it up again.

The second message arrived half an hour later. Harry considered tossing it straight away, but the owl looked a bit menacing. He unrolled it, waving away Malfoy's cologne.

All right, that was a bit tactless, I'll admit. I meant I'd cook dinner for you. Rather, I'll have Pansy cook, as she's much better at it than I am. Please?

Though the thought of Pansy cooking for him was definitely appealing, Harry crumpled the parchment and tossed it into the bin. The owl glared at him before taking off again. Harry smirked.

The third time the owl came back, it was carrying a parcel. When Harry opened it, a huge bouquet of flowers sprang out, settling themselves into a newly conjured glass vase on his desk. He stared at them, blushing furiously, and forgot to look for Malfoy's note until the owl nipped him.

Tell me to fuck off if you like, but please have the courtesy of responding this time.

Oh, and Pansy says she can cook for us tonight, and she wants to know if you have any requests. Is 8:00 good for you?

Harry couldn't help but grin. This had to mean that Malfoy had told Pansy all about what a prick he'd been. She'd be sympathetic, and when Malfoy continued to be an arse, he could turn to her to talk about it, to be comforted, and so on.

He picked up a quill and wrote Fine under Malfoy's message, then tied it back to the owl's leg. It flew away looking relieved. Harry charmed the window shut behind it, then turned and studied the flowers.

They were lovely, though he had no idea what kind they were. He'd never been given flowers before, and he wasn't sure he ought to keep them. It was a bit embarrassing.

There was a quick knock on his office door before it opened and Neville's head poked through with a chipper, "Hey, do you want to get some lunch?" He caught sight of the gigantic bouquet of flowers on Harry's desk and his jaw dropped. "What the…?"

"It's nothing," Harry said, blushing. "Yes, lunch. Great." He stood and crossed toward the door, but Neville had already stepped into the office to get a closer look.

"Oh, no -- don't tell me."

"Then don't ask," Harry said. "Let's just go, okay?"

Neville closed the door and turned to face Harry, paling a bit. "You didn't sleep with him, did you?"

"No!" Harry hissed. "Of course not!"

Neville's jaw appeared to tighten. "Come on, Harry. You know as well as I do that men only send flowers when they've fucked up or got laid."

"It's the first one," Harry said, giving Neville a look of annoyance. "He was an utter prick last night, and he abandoned me to go flirt with some other bloke, and I got a bit angry about it. Now he's trying to win me back, and that's all."

Neville was gaping at him. "Harry, are you listening to yourself?"

"Of course," Harry snapped, pulling on his jacket. "I know what I'm doing."

Neville stared at him for a moment, and then looked stricken. "Oh, no -- you kissed him, didn't you?"

Harry couldn't lie to Neville, no matter how much he wanted to. He looked away instead, and Neville sighed.

"I can't believe you're finally bi-curious, and it's over Malfoy."

"Neville--"

"No, don't. Don't say anything. I got over you a long time ago, and I'm happy with Louis, but I won't pretend it doesn't hurt."

"I'm sorry," Harry ventured. "And I'm not bi-curious. I'm using him to get to Pansy, remember?"

"Keep telling yourself that," Neville replied. He turned back to the door.

"What about lunch?" Harry asked.

"I think I need to get some work done, actually. Maybe another time." Neville didn't look at Harry as he left.

Harry sighed and leaned back against his desk. He had a bad feeling about this.

~*~

Harry had to stand outside Malfoy's flat and collect himself for nearly a full minute. He was nervous, which made little sense -- it should be Malfoy who was squirming, not knowing where he stood with Harry, not the other way around.

He took a deep breath and then knocked on the door. A few seconds later, it opened, and Malfoy leaned against the doorframe, a cocky smile on his face.

"I knew you would come."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I almost didn't." He walked in, brushing against Malfoy as he did.

Malfoy caught his hand and tugged, turning Harry back around to face him. "I'm glad you did." He brought Harry's hand to his lips and kissed the palm, holding Harry's gaze as he did.

To his horror, Harry blushed. Malfoy's smile turned almost wicked, and Harry jerked his hand away. This wasn't how the evening was supposed to go.

"Am I interrupting?" Pansy's head peeked around the corner into the entryway. "Apparently not. Harry, darling!" She was in his arms and kissing his cheeks before he knew what had happened.

"Hi," he said, feeling a bit breathless by her proximity. He looked over at Malfoy to see him shaking his head in amusement.

"You'll have to excuse her enthusiasm. Pansy hasn't had a proper shag in months."

"You've had enough for the both of us," she retorted, winking at Harry. "Drinks?"

"Months?" Harry mouthed to Malfoy as they followed her to the kitchen.

"It's pathetic," he whispered back.

They chatted over drinks, and it was actually pleasant, to Harry's surprise. Pansy turned out to be quite a gossip, and Harry found himself fascinated by the amount of information she knew about people they'd been to school with. Malfoy's commentary was sarcastic and funny, and though he kept a respectable distance from Harry, whenever Harry looked over Malfoy was looking back. It ought to have unnerved him, but for some reason it didn't. Harry found he rather enjoyed being the center of their attention.

Two drinks in, Pansy excused herself to the kitchen to finish cooking, leaving them alone.

"Want a tour?" Malfoy asked.

Harry looked around the compact flat. "Can't we do it from here?"

"Come on," Malfoy said, standing. Harry followed him a few feet to a door off the main room, which Malfoy pushed open. "The loo."

"I'd never have guessed," Harry replied.

"That," Malfoy said, walking around the sofa to point to a closed door, "is Pansy's room." He wrinkled his nose and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "She's quite a slob, so we won't go in."

Harry smiled. Pansy always looked so put together that it surprised him she'd be messy.

"And this," Malfoy said, pushing another door open, "is my room." He tilted his head to indicate Harry should go in.

Harry peeked through the door, hesitant. This was probably a bad idea. He really didn't want to lead Malfoy on, but he also needed to play his cards right. He stepped into the small dimly-lit room and looked around. The furniture appeared to be old and well-cared for, but there were many stylish touches that Harry found he liked. Malfoy had good taste.

He heard the click of the door closing, and turned to see Malfoy leaning back against it, watching him. Harry swallowed.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Malfoy asked.

"No," Harry lied. He turned his attention to the bed that filled most of the room, larger than what one would expect to find in a flat this size.

"I keep meaning to cast the spells to enlarge the room," Malfoy said. He was standing right behind Harry now, and Harry had the distinct impression Malfoy was having a hard time not touching him. "But I need to go look them up, and I'm lazy."

Harry snorted. "You could use the space, though. How'd you even get this bed in here?"

"Magic," Malfoy said. "Duh."

Harry was glad it was dark -- hopefully Malfoy couldn't see his embarrassment. He frowned, realizing he'd blushed more around Malfoy in the last few days than he had around anyone for a long time. He turned and stepped away to put a bit of space between them, realizing a moment too late that he'd actually moved closer to the bed.

Malfoy closed the gap, looking vaguely predatory, and Harry found himself backed up against the bed. "I am making you uncomfortable," Malfoy said. He reached out and took Harry's hand. "Why?"

"Why?" Harry repeated. He had no idea how to answer that question.

Malfoy tilted his head. "I can't tell if you're just playing hard to get, or if you're scared."

"I'm not scared," Harry said. "Maybe I just don't like you."

Malfoy smiled. "But you do like me. It's obvious. You can't stop looking at me, and you're always nervous around me. Even now, I can feel you trembling."

"I'm not trembling," Harry said, pulling his hand away. He was nervous because he was uncomfortable, because he had no interest in being alone in a darkened bedroom with Draco Malfoy -- that was the problem.

"May I kiss you?" Malfoy asked.

Harry felt a strange shudder go through him. "I -- sorry?"

Malfoy's smile widened a bit. "I'd like to kiss you, if you don't mind."

"You didn't bother asking me before."

"And that was a mistake," Malfoy replied. His hands settled on Harry's hips and he tugged their bodies closer together. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

Harry felt an odd stab of disappointment. He didn't want to have to ask for anything. This would all be much easier if Malfoy would just be an obnoxious jerk, but he was being nice. Sensitive, even.

Harry stared at him for what seemed like several long seconds, not sure what to do. The idea of kissing Malfoy wasn't repulsive -- he'd done it once already, and it hadn't been unpleasant. If he refused now, Malfoy would assume he wasn't interested, and that would be the end of it. But if Harry agreed, Malfoy would think he had a chance, and that was necessary for the plan.

Harry nodded.

"Sorry?" Malfoy said. "Didn't catch that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes. You may kiss me."

Malfoy leaned forward, sliding his hands around to the small of Harry's back. It seemed to take forever for their lips to touch, so long that Harry began to feel frustrated that it was taking so long. And then Malfoy's lips were against his, moving softly. His tongue pressed between Harry's lips after a moment, gentle and slow, and Harry whimpered before he could stop himself.

It didn't matter that Malfoy was a man -- he was such a good kisser that all Harry could think about was how good it felt, and how much he wanted to keep doing it as long as possible. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so swept away by kissing alone, if ever. His arms wound around Malfoy and he pulled him closer, amazed by the heat between them and the way their bodies fit together. It felt different from anything he'd ever experienced, but it didn't feel uncomfortable at all. Almost out of habit, one hand slid downwards to the curve of Malfoy's arse and squeezed, and Malfoy groaned into his mouth. That sound sent a thrill through Harry and he cupped the back of Malfoy's head with his other hand and deepened the kiss, taking control of it.

It wasn't until Harry felt an erection pressing against his thigh that he came to his senses and pulled away. He was half-hard himself, and he didn't want to think about what that might mean -- not now. He side-stepped away from Malfoy to put some space between them, his heart pounding.

"We probably shouldn't keep Pansy waiting," he said, hoping it wasn't too feeble an excuse.

Malfoy put both hands on the bed and leaned forward, making a strangled sound. "Give me a minute." Harry couldn't help but chuckle, and Malfoy turned to shoot him a mock glare. "You're the one who did this to me. The least you could do is give me a hand."

Harry's eyes widened at the innuendo, but he forced himself to smirk in response. "Sorry," he said. "You're on your own with that one."

They emerged a few minutes later. Pansy was setting the table, and she paused to give them a knowing look.

"It smells fantastic," Harry said, taking a seat.

Pansy winked at him and disappeared into the flat's galley kitchen once again. Malfoy followed her, and there was about a minute of indistinct whispering, followed by a giggle that sounded as if it had come from Pansy.

They emerged from the kitchen grinning, each carrying a platter. Pansy settled at the end of the table and Malfoy sat across from Harry, and they both stared at him. Harry tried not to squirm, but he couldn't help feeling a bit left out. The entire point of this endeavor was to come between them, but he wasn't sure it was working.

Pansy passed a dish to Harry, and he momentarily forgot his discomfort at the sight of its contents. "Carbonara?" He looked up at Pansy in surprise. "That's my favorite."

She smiled and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I have my sources." She winked at Malfoy, who shook his head in amusement.

It wasn't the best carbonara he'd ever had, but the fact that Pansy had apparently asked around in order to find out what he liked made Harry feel a bit fluttery. He had to force himself to pay more attention to Malfoy than to her throughout the meal, but neither of them seemed to notice. They chatted amiably, sometimes including him and sometimes not. Harry didn't get any of their inside jokes, but he laughed along anyway, lest he seem like he wasn't enjoying himself.

Malfoy insisted on cleaning up the dishes when they were done, so Harry and Pansy retired to the sofa with glasses of cognac. Pansy was flirtatious and sweet, having apparently imbibed quite a bit of the Italian wine she'd been cooking with. She leaned back against the arm of the sofa and put her bare feet on Harry's lap, then wiggled them a bit more than was strictly necessary.

Harry pushed her feet away from his crotch and took a deep breath. "Draco's taking his time, isn't he?"

"He's so picky about the kitchen," she replied, stretching her arms above her head. "He's a regular neat freak."

"I heard that," said Malfoy from the kitchen.

Harry grinned. "That's not a bad quality in a roommate."

Pansy rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "Maybe it's charming when you're fucking him. I'll have to listen to him bitch about how messy I left the kitchen for the next two days."

Harry wasn't sure what to say in response to that, so instead he said, "Thanks for dinner. It was lovely."

Pansy playfully tossed a throw pillow at Harry's head. "It was nice to have someone to cook for. Well, someone else, I suppose."

"Don't you cook for your boyfriend?" Harry asked, trying his best to sound earnest.

"Ha," Pansy replied. "I wish."

"Doesn't he eat?"

"It isn't that," she said, smoothing her skirt against her thighs. "Actually, I'm not seeing anyone at the moment."

"You're kidding," Harry said, as if he were shocked to hear this. "But you're so beautiful and sweet and funny. I would think they're knocking your door down."

She laughed, and looked up at him again. "There are spells for that, but I'm not desperate enough to use them. Alas, I've not been very lucky when it comes to men." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Maybe you just haven't met the right one," Harry suggested.

"Maybe I have met the right man," she replied. "But I wasn't the right man for him."

"I see," Harry replied. He took one of her feet in hand and massaged it, earning a happy sigh from her.

"Why do gay boys always give the best massages? If only you weren't so averse to eating pussy."

Harry nearly choked. "Are you always so blunt?"

"Yes!" Malfoy shouted from the kitchen.

Pansy reached over her head and made a rude gesture in his general direction. "But it seems I must content myself, for the time being, with meaningless sex with strangers."

Harry switched to her other foot. "I know the feeling. It's frustrating to have to play that game, and then… well, sometimes you're better off on your own in that department."

"I like to tell people I'm self-involved," Pansy giggled. "But sometimes, don't you just want a hard cock inside you, just… fucking you like mad? There isn't any sex magic that feels the same as that."

Harry tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a cough.

"Know what I mean?" Pansy asked, grinning at him.

"Yeah," Harry replied, grinning back. "I suppose I do."

"So," Pansy began, the expression on her face positively wicked, "do you like giving head?"

Harry kept his grin firmly in place. "Of course. Who doesn't?" It wasn't really a lie -- of course, he'd only ever given head to get it. He'd never really liked it that much, now that he thought about it.

"I love it," she said, sighing as if she were imagining doing it right then. "I love the way a hard cock feels in my mouth."

Harry swallowed and tried not to look away. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"So," Pansy asked, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "do you prefer to spit or swallow?"

Harry nearly choked. "Isn't that a bit personal?" he managed to ask.

Pansy laughed and leaned so close he thought she was going to kiss him. "I always swallow," she said, enunciating every syllable so clearly that he couldn't help but stare at her lips. God, they were so red.

If he didn't want to embarrass himself, a change of subject was in order. He looked away and stroked the sole of her foot with one finger. She jerked it away, giggling.

"Ticklish?" he asked, grabbing for the other one. She squealed and pulled away, and a moment later they were tussling on the sofa, laughing and trying to tickle each other.

"Having fun?"

Harry looked up to see Malfoy standing by the sofa, staring down at them with an odd look on his face. Harry couldn't tell if it was annoyance or suspicion.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Pansy replied. She gave Malfoy a smug smile. His eyes narrowed and he stared back.

Harry knew a line had been crossed -- hell, quite a few lines had been crossed -- and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He extracted himself from his tangle with Pansy and made a show of looking at his watch. "I should be going, actually. I have an early meeting."

Malfoy turned to look at Harry then, his expression unreadable. "Oh."

Harry stood and straightened his shirt. "Thanks," he said, glancing back and forth between them. "I enjoyed dinner immensely." He gave Malfoy a wink and turned towards the door.

Malfoy followed him through it, closing it behind him and leaning back against it. "So… do you want to go out tomorrow night?"

"Out?" Harry repeated, turning to face him.

"On a proper date. Dinner, dancing, that sort of thing." Malfoy smiled in what seemed to be a hopeful way, though the expression looked odd on his face, as if he weren't used to not knowing where he stood with someone.

Harry nearly agreed, then thought the better of it. Malfoy was willing to chase him, after all, so perhaps he should continue to play hard to get for the time being. "I have something to do tomorrow."

Malfoy's smile remained firmly in place, as if through sheer will. "How about Tuesday night, then?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure. Can I let you know?" He started to turn away, but Malfoy caught his hand and tugged him close.

"Are you sure you can't stay a bit longer?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

His cool grey eyes were wide, almost inviting, and it took Harry a moment to remember this was not only Draco Malfoy, someone he'd hated for most of his life, but a man who was looking at him this way. Harry didn't like men -- not like that. The events of the evening not withstanding, he was absolutely sure on that point. He swallowed and tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. He licked his lips.

And then he was kissing Malfoy, and he had no idea how it had happened. It felt just as amazing as it had in the bedroom earlier. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Malfoy's, confused. He'd just sat on the sofa with Pansy and had been completely enraptured by her, but a moment later, he was out here in the corridor, kissing Malfoy and almost getting hard from it. It made no sense.

It was probably because he'd been so turned on by Pansy. That had to be it. And Malfoy's lips had been parted just like hers were, and maybe a little red because he'd been biting them.

Harry sighed. That was it. He almost had Pansy eating out of his hand, and Malfoy to boot. He just had to play this game a bit longer.

He brushed his lips against Malfoy's again and sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

Malfoy's arms slid around his waist, and Harry could feel him grinning against his lips. "Oh, I can think of quite a few things. Shall I show you?"

"Not tonight," Harry replied, backing away. He shook his head at Malfoy.

"I'll take a rain check then," Malfoy said, smiling.

Unsure how to respond, Harry nodded, and then disapparated.

Back in his own flat, he laid awake in bed until well after midnight, the feeling of Malfoy's lips lingering on his. He was disturbed by what he'd felt tonight, but for all he knew it was entirely normal. He was definitely heterosexual, after all. A hot kiss was a hot kiss. It didn't mean anything. He closed his eyes and thought about Pansy's bare feet brushing his cock through his jeans, and the way she'd smiled coyly at him and told him what she liked in bed, and tried to go to sleep.

~*~

Harry grinned at Ron, who was slinging back a pint of lager as though parched. "Rough day?"

Ron swiped his sleeve across his mouth. "Sort of. Call it fortification."

"For what?"

Ron shrugged and took another large gulp of lager. "Anything new with you? I haven't seen you much lately."

"No, not really," Harry replied, staring into his own lager.

"I heard you were seeing someone," Ron said, his voice a bit hesitant.

Harry turned to look at him, surprised. "You did?"

Ron sighed, looking quite uncomfortable. "I guess I can understand why you wouldn't want to tell me. I mean, it's not like I didn't know, but we've never talked about it, and--"

"Know what?" Harry interrupted, his heart in his throat.

Ron stared firmly into his nearly-empty pint glass. "You know. That you… like blokes."

"I'm not gay!" Harry retorted, a bit more loudly than he'd intended. Several heads turned in the vicinity and Harry winced. Why couldn't they have gone to a Muggle pub tonight? Most of the people in here knew who he was.

Ron's forehead wrinkled. "But… aren't you going out with Malfoy?"

"Hush, will you?" Harry hissed, looking around. "I don't want that in the Prophet tomorrow."

"But is it true?" Ron asked, signaling the barman for another round. "Because I talked to Seamus yesterday and he's dating Susan Bones, who works with Pansy Parkinson, and she said you've been over at their place quite a bit lately."

"Only twice," Harry said, once he'd followed that trail of gossip. At Ron's raised eyebrow, he added, "And it's not Malfoy I'm interested in. It's Pansy."

Ron paused to finish off his pint and pay the barman for the next round. "So… you're interested in Pansy, but you're going out with Malfoy?"

"Yes, exactly."

Ron blinked at him. "That's pretty fucked up, mate."

"It's a long story," Harry mumbled. He downed the rest of his first pint and slid the empty glass across the bar. "Does everyone think I'm gay, then?"

"Well, everyone Susan works with, probably," Ron replied. "You know how that department is. And Seamus -- well, I'll just say he didn't sound surprised. And to be honest, mate, I've kind of wondered about you myself."

Harry was glad the pub was dimly lit, because he knew he must be blushing. "You… you think I'm gay?"

Ron looked uncomfortable. "Well, you know. You've never had a girlfriend for more than a few weeks."

"I dated your sister, Ron!"

"Almost fifteen years ago -- and that didn't really go anywhere, now did it? You've never really dated much since."

"I was a little busy, you might remember," Harry retorted. "You know, saving the world and all?"

Ron looked a bit pained. He downed more of his lager and seemed to force himself to look Harry in the eye. "And I stood right beside you through all of it, you know. Yet I seem to have moved on with my life."

"You haven't got a girlfriend."

"No, but I've had a long series of fucked up relationships with self-centered women, each of whom I thought I was madly in love with. They all turned out to be psychotic bitches, but I least I was trying."

"What about Hermione?" Harry retorted. "Surely you aren't lumping her in with--"

"You know how I felt about her," Ron snapped, "and how much I regret what happened. But this isn't about me. It's about you, and the fact that you haven't had a serious girlfriend… ever."

Harry pursed his lips. He'd been telling himself for years that he just hadn't found the right woman, and that was the problem. Or that he was really picky, and it would take someone quite special to meet his very high standards. What if that wasn't the problem at all? What if he hadn't found a woman he really liked because he didn't really like women?

He pushed the thought firmly aside. He liked Pansy, after all. At least, he thought he would, once he got to know her. She could be the one woman he'd been waiting for. And if everyone thought he was gay, perhaps it could work to his advantage. After all, the more people who thought he was gay, the more Pansy would believe it -- and the more she would want him.

Harry looked back to Ron. "I'm working on it, all right? In the meantime, do me a favor -- if anyone asks you about that gay rumor, don't deny it."

"Don't deny it?" Ron repeated, incredulous. "Harry, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Harry smiled and raised his pint glass to clink it against Ron's. "Absolutely."

~*~

Malfoy knocked on the door of Harry's flat at 8:00 pm sharp. Harry frowned as he crossed to the door, pulling a t-shirt over his head. For some reason, he'd expected Malfoy to be late.

They apparated to a public apparition point off of Gerrard Street and made their way to Ling's, a restaurant owned by an old Chinese wizard with a long beard and one eye. Ling's wife seated them, hobbling as she walked and turning to scowl at them every so often. They passed large tanks that contained aquatic creatures Harry had never seen before, and they had to step through the jaws of a huge taxidermied dragon head to get to the rear dining room of the restaurant.

Mr. Ling himself came out to take their order, his one eye fixed on Harry's scar the entire time. Malfoy ordered for them since Harry had never been there before. Ling grunted his approval and walked away just as Madame Ling returned with a pot of steaming tea, two cups, and several bottles of beer. She muttered something in Chinese as she walked away, shaking her head.

"She's a bit cranky, but the food is good," Malfoy said when she was out of earshot.

"I get the feeling she doesn't approve," Harry replied, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Of what?" Malfoy asked. "Of us? There's nothing to disapprove of yet." He winked at Harry as he poured himself a cup of tea.

Harry resisted the urge to squirm in his seat and tried to change the subject instead. "So you work for a private foundation?"

Malfoy nodded. "It's a good job for me. I have the connections and the social skills for it -- or that's what I told them when they hired me."

"And I suppose they didn't ask any questions?"

Malfoy pursed his lips. "Even though I kept out of sight during the war years, my family name was still enough to cause me trouble afterwards. Unlike the Ministry, the Foundation didn't care about that."

Harry wondered if Malfoy knew that Harry was aware of what he'd really been doing during the War, but he thought it best not to say anything. He sipped his tea instead.

"What about you?" Malfoy asked.

"I work for the Ministry, in the revenue division."

Malfoy's eyes widened over his teacup. "You're a tax collector?"

"Oh, no," Harry replied, grinning. "I just investigate shady firms. It's been mostly banks of late. So no need to worry about me getting angry and auditing you or anything."

"Right," Malfoy said, sitting back in his chair. "But I imagine you would know who to talk to about that."

Harry shrugged, and before the conversation could continue, their food arrived. Madame Ling directed the steaming plates to their table with a flick of her wand, then checked under the lid of the teapot before tapping it with her wand and refilling it. Harry smiled at her, but she only scowled in return and limped away.

"Friendly," Harry quipped.

"And even more so if you don't leave a big tip," Malfoy said, spooning rice onto his plate.

Conversation over dinner turned to Quidditch, a topic Harry finally felt at ease with. He was surprised that Malfoy followed all the big teams and not only knew as much trivia as Harry did, but was almost more enthusiastic than Harry about the subject. Harry supposed he'd imagined a gay man wouldn't be interested in sports, and then chastised himself for thinking in stereotypes.

When six courses and multiple rounds of Tsing Tao were finished, they made their way out into the busy street, startling a few Muggles who couldn't see the restaurant they'd just left.

"Oops," Malfoy muttered, then tugged Harry's arm to get him out of the way of an oncoming group of teenagers. "It's easy to forget that bit sometimes."

They made their way through the crowd towards Charing Cross Road, where Malfoy said there was a great club he had been wanting to check out. To Harry's relief, it turned out to be a Muggle club. The last thing he needed was to be spotted in a gay bar by the Wizard press.

Malfoy pulled him into an alley to transfigure their clothes into something more appropriate for a club, and then they joined the queue to go inside. Harry had a good chance to look at the people in line around them while they waited. There were men and women who completely fit gay stereotypes in their dress and behavior, while others seemed no different from himself. He wondered if everyone who went to this club was gay.

Once inside, Malfoy bought him a drink and took him to a railing where they could look down on the dance floor below. He'd already bought dinner and paid their entrance to the club, and Harry was starting to feel guilty about the price tag of the evening.

"I'll get the next round," he said, half-shouting over the loud music.

"Sorry?" Malfoy shouted back, leaning closer.

"I said I'll get the next round of drinks," Harry repeated, his lips very close to Malfoy's ear this time.

Malfoy slid an arm around his waist and shrugged. "If you want," he said, pressing his nose against Harry's ear, then kissing his cheek before moving a respectable distance away again.

Harry looked down at the dance floor, feeling utterly confused. Malfoy's closeness and affection ought to have made him uncomfortable, but he didn't feel that way at all. In fact, he almost liked the attention. He shook his head at himself -- he must be quite desperate for someone to show affection towards him to find Malfoy's advances appealing.

"Want to dance?" Malfoy asked, mouth very close to Harry's ear again.

Harry hesitated: He wasn't much of a dancer, but it would probably be more interesting then standing up here and shouting small talk at each other. He slung back the rest of his drink and nodded.

Malfoy smirked at Harry's empty glass, but he finished his drink as well before taking Harry by the hand and leading him downstairs toward the dance floor. Harry had seen the swarm of writhing bodies from above, but what he hadn't seen were people entwined together in the dark recesses along the walls, some doing things Harry doubted were completely legal to do in public view.

He couldn't help but stare as they passed a man on his knees, obviously sucking another man off. Malfoy laughed and tugged Harry away. "Now, now, Potter. Have some manners."

"I think you should tell them that," Harry retorted, only barely resisting the temptation to look back over his shoulder at them. It wasn't something he'd ever seen other people doing before -- well, unless one counted porn.

The music was the same sort of nondescript house beat that had been playing at the party the week before, and Harry found it easy enough to move along to it. Malfoy turned out to be a fairly good dancer and drew the attention of many of the men around them.

He was quite good-looking, Harry had to admit. His features, which had always seemed pointy in school, had matured into something best described as chiseled, particularly with the dance floor lights playing across his face. His body was lean, but he was fit and masculine in a way any man would envy. The white shirt he was wearing clung to his chest, and his hair was artfully tousled, just enough to be stylish. His height made him an imposing figure on the dance floor, and it was clear that Harry wasn't the only one who had noticed.

A shirtless muscled bloke appeared out of the crowd, staring at Malfoy with barely disguised lust. He insinuated himself between them and started gyrating against Malfoy. Malfoy laughed, throwing his head back and turning so that his back was to the man, pressing against him. As the man's hands wandered over Malfoy's chest, it was all Harry could do not to scowl at him. Malfoy kept his eyes on Harry, though, as if he wanted to see how long Harry could stand to watch. Harry shook his head, frowning, and Malfoy beckoned him closer with one finger, grinning.

Harry followed, against his better judgment, and let Malfoy pull him close. The man dancing behind Malfoy maneuvered to the side and gyrated against both of them, his hands wandering down their backs and over their arses. Harry tried his best not to be uncomfortable, but it must have shown on his face, because Malfoy wrapped his arms around him and turned them so that the shirtless bloke could no longer reach him.

And then Malfoy kissed him, and Harry forgot where he was for a moment. He slid his arms around Malfoy's back and pulled their bodies tightly together, almost feeling like he could melt from the sensation of a slick tongue sliding against his.

After what could have been half an hour or just one minute, Malfoy broke the kiss and led Harry off of the dance floor and over to one of the dark alcoves along the side. Harry felt apprehension rise in his throat, but Malfoy pressed him up against the wall and kissed him again, and he stopped thinking altogether.

He felt Malfoy's hands on his chest, moving up under his shirt, but he didn't mind. He hadn't been touched by anyone in a long time and it felt surprisingly good. The alcohol he'd consumed tonight had hit him full force somewhere along the way, and between that and a sudden rush of hormones, it was all he could do to remain standing. He was vaguely aware that they were both hard, but for some reason that didn't bother him. They both had dicks, after all, and that was what happened to them sometimes. Not a big deal.

And then Malfoy did something Harry didn't expect: he ground against Harry in a way that pressed their cocks together.

Harry couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips, nor the way his body sagged against the wall. It felt amazing, though the very idea of what he was doing made him uncomfortable. He was starting to like Malfoy, and with this much alcohol in his system, he was even willing to admit he was a bit attracted to him. But there was only one direction this would take them, and he wasn't sure he liked the idea.

"Draco," he managed to say between kisses, "I don't think--"

"Hush," Malfoy replied, and unfastened the snap of Harry's trousers with one hand and worked it inside. The sensation of fingers stroking his bare cock made Harry's eyes roll back in his head, and he found he couldn't say anything coherent as Malfoy worked the zipper down, took his cock in hand, and began to stroke.

"Oh god," Harry managed after a moment. Was this really happening? It reminded him a bit of a dream he'd had in recent days, standing here in the shadows pressed up against a wall with Malfoy's hand around his prick.

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing for Malfoy to pull him off. After all, he'd been rather tense lately, and sometimes wanking in the shower just wasn't enough. And as Pansy had said, sometimes one just needed to get off with someone else. He had to admit the idea of fucking Malfoy was becoming more appealing all the time. Or being fucked, for that matter. It might not be so bad. There were obviously men who liked it. Women too, for that matter.

He felt a spike of embarrassment and excitement at the thought. Why would he think about that at all? He didn't know about these things. He wasn't gay.

The part of his mind that was keeping track of things like the fact that he was currently getting a hand job from Draco Malfoy in a gay club had a laugh about that.

Malfoy's hand in his trousers kept moving, and he felt something pressing against his thigh that was undoubtedly an erection, but he was so close to coming himself that the reality of it was hazy and distant. The sticky wall behind him, Malfoy's lips on his, that hand stroking him -- all of it blurred together until he came, hard and with a moan into Malfoy's hand.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall, the sound of the music filling him, pushing out the thoughts that were on the verge of making him panic. Just relax, he told himself. It was only a hand job.

The sound of Malfoy's erratic breathing made him open his eyes again. Malfoy's eyes were squeezed shut and he was gritting his teeth, one hand braced on the wall behind Harry. Harry looked down to see Malfoy was pulling himself off. He wanted to look away, but found himself oddly fascinated by the sight of the head appearing and disappearing into Malfoy's fist, coated with a slickness that was possibly Harry's own semen.

He looked at Malfoy's face again just as he came, just in time to see his jaw go slack and his cheeks flush. Malfoy didn't make much noise, but neither did Harry when he wanked. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd actually watched someone's face as they came. It was amazingly intimate, even if he'd had little to do with it.

Malfoy's eyes opened after a moment, and he smiled at Harry. "Sorry -- I couldn't wait."

Harry shrugged, uncertain why Malfoy was apologizing.

"Want to dance some more?" Malfoy asked, fastening his trousers.

Harry almost laughed, surprised by how casual Malfoy was about it all. "I… sure."

Malfoy grinned and took Harry by the hand, pulling him back to the dance floor. His hand was still a bit sticky, but for some reason, Harry really didn't mind.

~*~

"Harry? Are you with us?"

Harry blinked and looked up to see six faces staring at him from around the table. He cringed. "Sorry, what was the question?"

Collins narrowed her eyes. "I asked you what you thought about Rodin's proposal. Hell, Potter -- rough night?"

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, you could say that."

The meeting continued to be excruciating after that, and Harry could barely concentrate. He'd stayed out far too late with Malfoy the night before, and he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened between them in the club -- and what it meant.

Neville caught his arm on the way out the door. "Are you all right?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine. Just tired."

Neville's brow furrowed. "I've never seen you so preoccupied, Harry. Is this about…?" He gave Harry a look.

"No, of course not," Harry replied, but at Neville's raised eyebrow, he caved. "Maybe."

Neville nodded his head towards his own office. "Come on."

Harry followed him through the door and slumped into the chair by Neville's desk. Neville closed the door, then crossed to the desk and leaned against it. He didn't say anything.

Harry heaved another sigh. "I'm just tired, mostly. I know better than to stay out that late."

Neville didn't respond; he just stared at Harry and waited.

"We went to this club in Soho, and I had too much to drink and…" Harry pressed a hand to his forehead -- his head was starting to throb at the very thought.

"Oh god," Neville said. "You had sex with him, didn't you?"

"No!" Harry replied, a bit too quickly. "I mean… not really."

Neville made a snorting sound. "You either had sex with him or you didn't. Which is it?"

"He… did me, with his hand and then he… did himself." Harry felt his cheeks grow hot. He and Neville had never talked about sex, and to do so under these circumstances was excruciating.

"He gave you a hand job," Neville stated. Harry nodded, and Neville sighed. "I hate to break this to you, but I think that counts as sex."

"But I didn't do anything to him," Harry countered. "He just sort of attacked me, and I stood there. I never touched him. Not like that, anyway."

"Did you come?" Neville asked. Harry gave him a sharp look, biting back the urge to tell Neville to mind his own business. Neville looked away. "I don't want to argue over semantics, but I think you need to face the fact that you had sex with him."

Harry slid down in his chair and closed his eyes. Neville was right, of course, but he really didn't want to admit it. "Am I gay?" he asked at last.

"Only you can answer that question," Neville replied, his voice gentle. "What do you feel like when you're with him?"

"He's not bad," Harry replied. He studied a stain on his shirt and sighed. "I guess I like him."

"Are you attracted to him?"

Harry couldn't look up at Neville. "Yes."

"Does it feel different than being attracted to a girl?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

Neville sighed. "Lots of people are attracted to someone of the same sex every now and then, but it doesn't make them gay."

"But they don't have sex with them."

Neville made a sound like a soft laugh. "You'd be surprised. But having sex isn't what makes someone gay, Harry. It isn't about sex at all. It's about what you feel, what you desire, who you fall in love with."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Have you ever been in love?"

"Yes," Neville replied, his voice even. "Several times."

"I haven't," Harry said. "I always thought I just hadn't met the right girl, but…" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"What about Pansy? You started this because of her."

Harry shook his head. "I don't know."

Neville leaned forward and squeezed Harry's shoulder. "It's all right, Harry. You don't have to know the answer now."

"Easy for you to say," Harry retorted, but he knew Neville was right about that too.

~*~

"Thanks for meeting me for lunch." Harry smiled at Pansy, who was picking a slice of tomato from her panini.

"Of course," she replied, winking at him. "I haven't had much of a chance to talk to you without Draco around."

"I know," Harry replied, smiling. That had been the point of this lunch meeting -- to see if there were any sparks between them after all. He'd been nervous about it all morning, so much so he'd barely been able to concentrate. "Did you tell Draco we were meeting?"

"No. Should I have?"

Harry shrugged and took a bite from his sandwich.

"I don't think I will. He's not usually the jealous sort, but there's something about you that has him a bit on edge."

"Really?" Harry asked, intrigued.

Pansy nodded and sipped her drink. "He usually doesn't have to work very hard at this sort of thing, but you've been hard for him to catch." She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. "He told me you two haven't even slept together yet, and it's been two weeks!"

Harry tried not to smirk -- so Malfoy didn't count that hand job as sex either. "Do most of his boyfriends hop right into bed, then?"

Pansy snorted. "I'd hardly call them boyfriends. Tricks, maybe. He doesn't really date people, you know."

"He dated you, didn't he?" Harry asked, hoping he wasn't pushing too hard.

Pansy's smile faded. "That was a long time ago, before he came out. We're such good friends now that it seems like it was just a dream."

"And you haven't dated anyone since?"

"Oh, no," Pansy said with a charming laugh. "I've dated lots of men. It just… it hasn't worked out." She took a bite of her sandwich and locked her eyes onto his.

Harry looked back at her, his brow furrowing in concentration. If he was attracted to her, he'd feel something now, wouldn't he? He waited, but all he felt was a knot of anxiety in his stomach.

"I like you, Harry," she said at last. "I'm not sure why I hated you so much in school."

"Because I was in Gryffindor?" Harry suggested, unable to keep a bit of exasperation from his voice. "Because Draco hated me?"

"I think you hated him more," she said, her eyes boring into his. "So why do you like him now?"

Harry blinked at her. "I don't know. Why are you asking me this?"

Pansy shrugged and returned to her drink. "Draco and I have lived together for years, and I've seen him fuck more men than I cared to count. None of them mattered to him, and he didn't care. But you…" She paused and seemed to be steadying herself. "I think he really likes you, Harry. And you're not like the others. You seem to be the type who's more interested in a relationship, and he needs that. He's never really had one."

"I…" Harry began, and then swallowed. "Neither have I, to be honest. I haven't had anything I'd call a relationship since…" He dropped off, uncertain. Why was he telling her this? He'd forgotten the point of this meeting somewhere in the last few minutes.

"I like you Harry, I really do. But Draco is my best friend. If your feelings about him aren't sincere -- if you hurt him, I will never forgive you." Pansy's eyes were dark and wide, and Harry knew that she meant it. He stared back at her, and the knot tightened.

"I… I like him. I sincerely do. And I like you."

"Good," she said, her manner relaxed again.

Harry stared at his half-eaten sandwich. Basically, he was fucked.

~*~

The knock on Harry's door at midnight woke him -- he'd fallen asleep on the sofa watching television. He squinted at the clock on the far wall as he stood, and he had his hand on the doorknob before the time registered in his mind. He paused, giving himself a moment to get his thoughts straight. He found his wand on the sofa table and cast a one-way clearing charm on it just as the person knocked again. The wood shimmered and became transparent, and Harry nearly gasped in surprise. It was Malfoy, dressed in a traveling cloak. He frowned at the door and raised his hand to knock again.

Harry opened it. "What are you doing here?"

"I just thought I'd drop by," Malfoy replied. "I thought you might want to go out."

"It's the middle of the night," Harry said.

"What better time to go out?"

"It's Tuesday."

Malfoy shrugged. His eyes grazed over Harry with interest, and it was only then that Harry remembered he was shirtless. He was too tired to care -- though he probably shouldn't stand in his doorway half naked. He stepped back and gestured Malfoy in, then closed the door behind him.

"I would offer you a drink, but I'm out of everything," Harry said. "And I have to admit you woke me up."

"Clearly," Malfoy replied, eyeing the rumpled state of the sofa. He seemed to find the situation amusing.

"Don't you have to go to work in the morning?" Harry asked, settling on the sofa and yawning.

"Yes," Malfoy said, removing his cloak and folding it over a chair. "But I've been traveling the last few days and I wanted to see you."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I wondered where the hell you were." Truth be told, he was relieved. He'd heard nothing from Malfoy since his lunch with Pansy, and he'd started to wonder if she'd said something about their conversation and it had scared him off.

"It came up rather suddenly," Malfoy continued. "I haven't even gone home yet. I came straight here."

Harry yawned again, slumping down against the sofa cushions. "And I'm exhausted. Can we go out another time?"

"Of course." Malfoy knelt in front of Harry and placed a hand on each of his knees, his smile more than a bit naughty.

Harry felt an odd rush of adrenaline. "What are you doing?"

Malfoy's smile widened and he slid his hands up Harry's thighs. "I'm going mad, you know. I usually don't have to wait this long to get a taste of someone."

"Oh?" Harry replied, trying his best to sound casual. He ought to protest, but his cock was already stiffening at the sight of Malfoy on his knees, looking hungry.

"I thought about this all day," Malfoy continued. He hooked his fingers behind Harry's knees and tugged him forward a bit so that his hips were at the edge of the sofa.

"Thought about what?" Harry asked. His voice broke a bit on the last word.

Malfoy's hands slid up the flannel pyjamas again, and he focused his gaze on the tent that was now forming at Harry's groin. He leaned forward and then looked up at Harry. "Your cock in my mouth," he whispered, and then pressed his open mouth against the fabric covering Harry's prick.

He exhaled, and Harry sucked in a breath at the sensation of damp heat and mild pressure. He absolutely should not go along with this. He should stop it now, before it was too late. He was horny and a bit desperate, but that was no reason to let Malfoy--

Malfoy started nibbling his prick through the fabric, starting at the head and then working his way down the shaft slowly, catching the flannel and a bit of skin gently between his teeth as he moved. Harry tried to keep his breathing normal, struggled not to make any noise, but by the time Malfoy's mouth was tugging at the flannel covering his balls, catching hair and tender skin as he did, Harry couldn't bear it much longer.

"Oh god," he said, and took Malfoy's head in his hands. He tried to haul him up for a kiss.

But Malfoy had other plans. He broke free of Harry's grip and sat back on his heels, grinning. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"Tell me what you want," Malfoy said, his gaze falling back to Harry's crotch and licking his lips. "I'll do anything you want." His eyes flicked up to Harry's again. "Anything."

Harry groaned at that, unable to help himself. Unbidden, his mind was filled with images of things he wanted to do to Malfoy -- and half of them he wasn't sure were possible. His hand moved to his cock out of habit, but Malfoy batted it away.

"Oh, no. That's mine tonight. I'm the only one who gets to touch it."

Harry pressed his hands over his eyes and sighed. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you need it, Harry. You need to get laid more than anyone I've met in a long time."

"I can't argue with that," Harry replied. He dropped his hands and looked down at Malfoy. "It's just… I've not really…"

"Done this much?" Malfoy finished. "With a man, at least? Yes, that's painfully obvious." At Harry's blush, he added, "And incredibly erotic. Which is why I want to do this on your terms. You have to tell me what you want."

Harry took a deep breath. Did he really want this? Was it loneliness and a desperate need for affection that had driven him to this moment, where his former childhood nemesis was kneeling at his feet and ready to do his sexual bidding? Or was it something more? Harry didn't know, but his cock was aching and Malfoy was there and…

He exhaled. "I want you to… suck me."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You're going to have to be more specific than that."

Harry closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Why was this so embarrassing? He'd never had trouble asking women for what he wanted. "Suck my cock," he said, though he was sure his voice was no more than a whisper. "Please."

"That's better," Malfoy said, his voice husky.

Harry felt his fingers dip beneath the waistband of the pyjamas and tug them down. He lifted his hips to allow Malfoy to ease them down to his knees, and then he waited, unable to bring himself to watch. It seemed an eternity before he felt hot breath against the sensitive skin of his cock, and then another before the soft wetness of Malfoy's tongue followed.

Harry had imagined Malfoy would be good at this, and he was. He took his time, nearly driving Harry mad with licks and kisses, applying just enough pressure to tease, but not enough to satisfy. By the time he finally took Harry's cock into his mouth, Harry had lost the battle to remain silent. He arched his hips up and groaned, desperate for more contact, more heat and wetness and pressure, all the way down to his balls. One of his hands found Malfoy's head and the other braced against the sofa cushions, as if he would fall off if he didn't hang on.

Malfoy's mouth was unbelievable, and it was without doubt the best blow job of Harry's life. He'd had his cock sucked plenty of times, of course, but never like this. Never with such attention to detail and enthusiasm, and never with just the right amount of teeth and tongue.

He felt his orgasm building, hot and low, and he gritted his teeth. And then Malfoy's mouth disappeared.

Harry's head popped up at that, but Malfoy smiled and continued to stroke his shaft lazily. "That was a little quick, don't you think? I'm not ready to go home yet."

Harry made a sound of frustration, but Malfoy didn't seem to care. He returned to licking and nibbling, finally taking Harry's prick into his mouth again after what seemed like several minutes. Harry sighed at the sensation, melting into the sofa cushions, strung somewhere between torture and bliss.

Malfoy continued that way twice more, slowly building up until Harry was getting close and then backing off again. It was maddening and frustrating, and so fucking hot Harry thought he might die on the spot.

"Tell me what you want," Malfoy said at last, his voice nearly hoarse. His hand kept a rhythm of firm strokes on Harry's shaft, and his warm breath brushed the head, making Harry shiver.

"I want to come," Harry panted, having lost all pretense of dignity by now. "I want you to suck my cock until I come."

Malfoy didn't say another word -- he simply swallowed Harry's cock. Harry was momentarily stunned by the feeling of being halfway down Malfoy's throat, but the sensation of his tongue and the suction he felt and Malfoy swallowing around him was overwhelming. His orgasm wrenched a cry from him, mingled with words he'd be embarrassed for saying later. It felt like it lasted forever, and he didn't want it to stop. He couldn't remember ever having so intense an orgasm before.

Malfoy came off his prick, panting for breath, but Harry couldn't open his eyes. He felt warm and tingly, though he was inexplicably shivering. He felt Malfoy settle on the sofa beside him, still breathing hard.

"No applause?" he asked.

Harry laughed and turned to look at him. "I should have known you'd be a cocky bastard."

Malfoy looked smug and stretched his arms over his head. "Don't I deserve it?"

"Yes," Harry replied, a bit breathlessly. He let his gaze fall to the obvious erection in Malfoy's trousers, then looked back up at him.

Malfoy stared back for a moment, then pushed to his feet. "I need to get home."

Harry blinked. "Are you… I mean, do you want…?" He paused, not really sure what he was offering.

"I wanked twice this morning thinking about this," Malfoy said, pulling his cloak back on. He winked at Harry. "I'm a bit chafed, actually. Maybe next time?"

"Yeah," Harry said, standing and pulling his pyjamas back up. His cock was still a bit sensitive, and he winced at the brush of fabric against it.

Malfoy kissed him, deeply enough that Harry could taste himself, and then he stepped back and disapparated.

Harry collapsed onto the sofa and sighed. He was in way, way over his head, but he couldn't help himself. It was time to rethink this whole thing.

~*~

"Good morning," Harry chirped to Neville as he passed him in the corridor. Neville stared back at him blankly, but Harry smiled anyway. He also smiled cheerily at Cecily Roberts and Stradius Thorngood as he passed, causing both to turn and stare at him as if he'd sprouted another head.

He sat at his desk and sipped a cup of tea as he began to wade through his morning owls. It was an unusually sunny day outside his window, and he found himself wishing he could go sit in the park down the street a bit. Maybe he'd do that at lunchtime. He could feed the pigeons, sit under a tree…

"Harry?" He looked up to see Neville poking his head through the door.

"Good morning," Harry said again, cheerily. "Do you want to have lunch with me today?"

"Yeah, sure," Neville replied, closing the door behind him and crossing to sit next to Harry's desk. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. Why?"

Neville tilted his head and studied him. "You just… seem to have been hit by a stray cheering charm this morning, or something."

Harry laughed. "Is it that unusual for me to be in a good mood in the morning?"

"Yes," Neville replied without hesitation. "We all try to avoid you until at least 11:00, to be honest.

Harry's smile faded a bit. "Oh. Well, I'm fine. Nothing to worry about. It's just a lovely day, you know."

Neville opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think the better of it. He paused for a moment and then stood. "Lunch, then. See you."

Harry stared out the window again after Neville left. He supposed he was usually a bit cranky in the mornings. Of course, it wasn't every morning that one woke up from the sated sleep that follows amazing sex.

He felt a simultaneous jolt of happiness and panic at that thought. In some ways, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. When he stripped away the gender issue (and the fact that it was Malfoy), he felt nothing but a dizzying sort of warmth about it all. Despite the fact that he'd got into this because of Pansy, he was growing rather fond of Malfoy.

After Malfoy had left his flat the night before, he'd lain awake for a while and thought about how the events of the recent weeks had called quite a lot of what he'd always thought about himself into doubt. He'd always been straight, and not really interested in relationships beyond a bit of sexual gratification. He'd never spent the next morning daydreaming about the sex he'd had the night before, certainly.

And of course, he hadn't really ever considered the possibility of men before. Well, that wasn't entirely true -- if he were honest with himself, he could recall times in his life when he'd been att

~*~

"I'm glad you asked me to lunch," Neville began. He peeled back the top layer of his sandwich, examining the contents. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh?" Harry replied. He dipped a chip in sauce and watched Neville's face, which seemed to be a mix of apprehension and contentment.

"Louis wants me to move in," Neville said in a rush, and then took a large bite of his sandwich.

"Really?" Harry asked. "And is that a good thing?"

"I think so," Neville replied through his mouthful. He paused and swallowed before continuing. "I really like him, and he likes me. We like being together. And this is what you do in these situations, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Harry said. He dropped the chip he'd been painting his plate with and sighed. "I think I'm in a relationship with Malfoy."

Neville's eyes widened, and he set his sandwich down. "Well, enough about me, then. When did this come about?"

"It's been coming for three weeks," Harry sighed. "As you well know. And then last night, he stopped by and…" He paused, wondering how much detail he really wanted to share with Neville.

"Ah," Neville replied. "So I'm guessing it was more than just good sex."

"Fucking amazing sex," Harry said, trying not to grin. "But there's something else going on too. I like being with him. I like talking to him. I like listening to him. I don't feel like I have to try to impress him or always say the right thing."

"Cause he'll take the piss anyway?" Neville snorted.

"Something like that," Harry said, ducking his head. "And it's completely bizarre because I haven't… well, the sex has been rather one-way so far."

"Because you're uncomfortable with the idea?"

"I'm not, though." Harry paused, realizing that it was true. "I simply haven't had an opportunity to reciprocate. He hasn't let me. I think he knows I haven't done any of this before and he's taking it slowly. I know you think he's a horrid person, but he's been quite sweet to me."

Neville looked thoughtful for a moment. "I told you a couple of weeks ago that I thought Malfoy was bad for you, and I should probably explain why I thought so." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Neville continued before he could speak. "Years ago, I ran into Malfoy in a club here in London. We were both fairly pissed, and we ended up in the bathroom and… well, you can probably guess what happened. But it was… he was so unpleasant about it all. It was all about what he wanted, and he didn't care if I got off or not. That was the night I decided I wasn't going to fuck around casually any more. I didn't want pricks like Malfoy using me to get off like that."

"Neville--" Harry began.

"Let me finish," Neville said, holding up his hand. "You know I care about you, Harry. There was even a time when I thought I was in love with you. Remember that night in the field outside of Cornwall?"

Harry nodded, looking away. "You don't have to explain--"

"I've avoided it for a long time. I don't want to pretend it didn't happen any more."

"You were drunk," Harry sighed. "It had been a horrible month, and we were all a bit frazzled."

"The important thing is that you let me kiss you that night. Even though I knew you were just doing it out of pity, I appreciated the fact that you cared about me enough to give me that moment."

"It wasn't pity," Harry said, pressing his hand against his forehead. "I can't believe we're talking about this at a pub, of all places."

"Whatever the reason, you've always been a decent person," Neville continued, lowering his voice a bit. "And even though I knew you would never love me back, it was better than being rejected outright."

"It was a nice kiss, actually," Harry said, looking up again. "I remember being surprised by that."

Neville cleared his throat. "Anyway, after that night with Malfoy, I thought about that kiss a lot. I thought that if one of the best kisses of my life was shared with a straight man who was too good a friend to push me away when I came on to him, then maybe I was going about the relationship thing in the wrong way."

"So Malfoy was a prick and it changed your life," Harry sighed. "I'm not sure where you're going with this."

"My point is that everything I told you about Malfoy a few weeks ago was based on one incident that affected me a great deal. But it wasn't fair of me to assume that was who he really was, or that he hadn't changed. And from what you've said about him, it seems like he could even care about you."

Harry let himself smile, just a bit. "Does this mean you're giving your blessing?"

"I don't know," Neville said, and shrugged. "Do you need it?"

"It helps," Harry replied. "Otherwise I'd have wondered if I were going crazy."

They smiled at each other for a moment. Neville took a sip of his drink and pursed his lips. "So you weren't just kissing me that night out of pity?"

Harry shook his head. "No. And I seem to recall you were the one who stopped first."

"I had an erection and I didn't think you'd shag me," Neville sighed. "Walking away seemed the only way to salvage my dignity at all."

Harry smiled. "Maybe you should have asked. It could have saved me an awful lot of trouble."

Neville laughed and shook his head. "I suppose it's good to know I wasn't a fool for caring about you so much."

"You're not a fool, Neville. Not at all."

~*~

There was a quivering blue envelope on Harry's desk when he returned. He froze when he saw it, a spike of dread going through him. That was almost never a good sign.

He gritted his teeth and tapped it with his wand. It opened with a shower of sparks and the voice of the department supervisor filled his office, sounding sharp and foreboding: Mister Potter, I want to see you in my office immediately.

Harry groaned. He knew he'd been distracted of late, but she sounded rather more than annoyed. He must have fucked up somehow.

He ran through of list of things he was supposed to have done in the last few weeks as he walked down the corridor to the lift. He couldn't think of anything he could have forgotten that would have warranted such a response, though. As the lift sank down below ground level, his stomach twisted. It must be something he'd bungled up completely. There was no other possible explanation. And of course, not knowing what he was about to walk into, he'd be entirely unprepared to defend himself. What if she sacked him?

He'd only taken this job for something to do -- it wasn't as if he'd needed the money. And though he liked the work and the people around him, it wouldn't break his heart to be told to move on.

Of course, the headlines would be a bit embarrassing. He'd managed to stay out of the papers for nearly six months now, and it had been rather pleasant.

The lift doors opened and he steeled himself before stepping out and walking to her office. The door was closed, so he had to knock, which only made him more tense. He heard a terse, "Come in" from the other side.

He pushed the door open to see Collins sitting behind her desk, stonyfaced. And sitting in the chair opposite, looking pale and apprehensive, was Neville. Harry shot him a questioning glance, but Neville only got a bit greener.

"Have a seat," Collins said. She flicked her wand and conjured an uncomfortable-looking chair next to Neville's.

Harry sat, trying not to look at Neville's face. It was only worrying him more.

Collins sat back in her chair and scrutinized Harry. "I know this is a personal question, but I don't have a choice. What is the nature of your relationship with Draco Malfoy?"

Harry frowned and looked at Neville again. Neville stared at his hands. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand why that's important."

Collins's sigh sounded frustrated. "Just answer the question, Potter. Are you friends, relatives, lovers, old school chums, or what?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Erm… well, we're sort of dating, actually."

Collins nodded as if this news did not surprise her. "And how long have you been dating him?"

"I still don't see how this--" Harry blurted, but at Collins's expression, he relented. "Not long. A few weeks."

"And did it not occur to you that this might significantly compromise the investigation?"

Harry felt his stomach sink. "What?"

"It appears more than a touch improper, you know, that one of our top investigators starts dating one of the most prominent employees of an organization we have been preparing to audit for months."

Harry gaped for a moment. "But I'm not involved in that investigation. I investigate banks, not charitable organizations." Neville made a strange sound, and Harry turned to see that he was pressing a hand over his face.

Collins was looking at him as if he were insane. "Potter, you are one of the primary investigators assigned to the Randkings Bank case, are you not?"

"Yes," Harry replied, though his voice was small.

"Have you any idea what the purpose of that investigation is, or should I explain that as well?"

Harry felt as if the world had been turned upside-down. He closed his eyes. "Oh god." He opened them again to see Collins glaring at him and Neville looking more pale than ever. "They've allegedly been engaged in money laundering, through organizations run by former Death Eaters. But I didn't know that the organization Malfoy works for had any connection to Randkings."

"And the Minister's commission will certainly believe that story, as will the Daily Prophet!" Collins snapped. She sighed and shook her head. "We all make mistakes, Potter, especially where relationships are concerned, but I find it hard to believe this was all a coincidence."

"You think Harry started a relationship with Malfoy on purpose?" Neville asked. "That's not-- I mean, it isn't my place to explain, but that just isn't possible!"

"Not to mention that it's not the way I have ever approached my job!" Harry spat, feeling emboldened by Neville's support. "I can't believe you'd even think such a thing."

Collins's eyes narrowed. "I needed to know the truth, Potter. And if I am to believe you, that only leaves one other alternative: that he knew about the investigation and was planning to use this relationship to blackmail you."

Harry nearly laughed. The idea wasn't exactly preposterous, but it hardly seemed likely. After all, he'd decided to go after Malfoy himself, and that was how all of his started. Hadn't it? He looked over at Neville, who was more ashen than before.

It wasn't completely impossible, now that he thought about it. And that meant that everything that had happened between them might have been staged. Malfoy could have been toying with his affections all along. Based on Neville's experience, it sounded like something he might do. Malfoy had made it clear that he really needed that job. What would he do to keep it?

Harry felt sick. He sank down in his chair and put a hand over his mouth, just in case.

Collins sighed. "I'm sorry, Potter, but I have no choice but to remove you from the investigation. Take a leave for a week or so and get yourself together."

Harry nodded, relieved. He'd expected far worse.

"And you as well," Collins said to Neville.

"What?" Neville exclaimed. "Why me?"

"Because you knew this was going on, Longbottom. You had access to the same information Potter did, and you did nothing to stop it."

Neville looked for a moment as if he might continue arguing, but he fell silent and looked away.

"I know you both have worked hard on this case for a year, but my hands are tied. We'll never get this indictment through if there's even a hint that my investigators weren't playing by the rules. I only hope there's still time to repair the damage you've caused." She stood and gestured toward her office door.

Harry and Neville didn't speak until they were standing in the lift together. Harry felt guilty and foolish and crushed, all at the same time.

"I'm sorry," he said, unable to bring himself to look at Neville. "This is all my fault."

"Not necessarily," Neville replied, though his voice was stiff. "There's always the possibility that he was playing you."

Harry leaned back against the side of the lift and groaned. He didn't want to entertain the thought of it. It only made him feel worse. "I don't know. It would be hard for me to believe that."

"Would it?" Neville retorted. "I suppose you're so special that even the possibility of capturing your affections can turn a hardened commitment-phobe like Malfoy into a blithering romantic?"

"Yes, exactly," Harry spat. "Because I'm such a prize, you know. Everyone wants a piece of me, including Malfoy. Why shouldn't he get on his knees and beg to suck my cock like everyone else?"

And of course, the lift doors opened just in time to broadcast the last phrase into the corridor, where a group of their co-workers were waiting for the lift.

"Fuck," Harry hissed, and pushed past the smirking lot of them.

"Harry!" Neville shouted after him, but Harry didn't turn around. He went into his office and slammed the door.

~*~

When his third owl to Malfoy came back unread, Harry couldn't sit around any longer. He packed up his bag and left the office, ignoring the wolf whistles that followed him out the door. He apparated to the nearest apparition point near Malfoy's and Pansy's flat and then rang the buzzer for nearly a minute before apparating himself into the corridor just outside their door. Luckily no one was in the corridor, but Harry hardly cared. He needed to find out what had happened between him and Malfoy -- and why.

He knocked on the door several times and pounded on it once before it was opened at last. Pansy stood before him, wearing nothing but lacy undergarments. Her eyes had dark circles beneath them and her hair was mussed.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

"Mmmm, yes," she replied, leaning against the door frame. "I'm wonderful, actually. Draco's not here, but you can come in and wait for him if you like." She staggered off toward the living room, leaving him standing in the corridor with the door open.

Harry closed the door behind him and followed her. She was drunk or stoned, or perhaps both, and there was no sign Malfoy was there at all. He walked around the corner and saw her sprawled on the sofa. "What have you taken?" he asked.

"M," she replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the sofa table. "Want some?"

Harry picked up an empty vial from the table and tilted it. A few drops of blue-green liquid remained in the bottom. "I think you already took it all," he replied. "Where did you get this, anyway?"

"I won't tell," she replied in a singsong voice, stretching languidly.

Harry shook his head. He'd taken M once, not long after the War at a party that had been going for several days. He'd had a hangover for nearly a week, and he'd never touched the stuff again. "The Ministry regulates coindi seeds for a reason, you know."

"Because they're so wonderful," she replied, pushing herself to sitting. She smiled up at him, eyes glazed. "Want a drink?"

"No," Harry replied, setting the vial down again. "Do you know where Draco is?"

"Noooo," she said, and managed to get to her feet. "He's probably at work." She flung her arms around his neck, and he caught her as she swayed forward. "Mmmm, Harry. You're so hot." She let her head fall back and looked up at him. "We both think so, you know."

"I'm flattered," Harry sighed, trying to peel her off of him. "And I think you should lie down again, and I'll get you something cold to drink."

"Ooh, will you lie down with me?" she breathed, nuzzling her cheek against his.

"I'll sit here with you, I promise," he told her, and managed to get her to sit on the sofa again. He went into the kitchen and found some juice in the refrigerator, and fumbled around until he found a glass. He poured it and then stood there for a moment, trying to collect himself. Pansy had just thrown herself at him, and he'd not been a bit interested. She was stoned out of her mind, of course, but it hadn't even occurred to him to take advantage of that. "I really am gay," he whispered, leaning back against the counter. "Either that or too much of a gentleman for my own good."

She was singing a tune he didn't recognize when he came out again. He sat on the opposite end of the sofa from her and set the juice on the table.

"Harry," she said, almost sounding pouty, "Aren't you going to come over here with me?"

"You're not yourself right now," Harry replied. "In fact, I think you're going to feel quite silly about this in the morning."

"Hah," she replied, and was silent for a while.

"Oh, Pansy, why did you do this?" he asked. "Here all alone, in the middle of the day. One would think…"

"That I'm a fucking wreck?" she said, laughing. "Oh, Harry -- I've known that for ages." She crawled across the sofa toward him, then knelt beside him and grinned. "I'm a loser, Harry. I lost. But I didn't cheat, did I?"

"No," he replied, though he hadn't a clue what she was talking about.

"I didn't even cheat. It's not fair!" She poked him in the chest with one finger, so hard that it hurt.

"Hey!" Harry said, rubbing at the spot. "Careful, now."

"Careful," she repeated in a whisper. "Oh, yes, I'll be careful." She swung one leg over him so that she was straddling his lap, and gyrated against him slowly. "See? I can be careful."

"Pansy, don't." He took her by the shoulders and tried to dislodge her, but she went limp against him. "This isn't what you want," he whispered.

"Yes," she replied, reaching behind herself. She unfastened her bra and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor, and then leaned back to give him a better view. "It is, actually." She had gorgeous breasts, and Harry couldn't help but stare at them. Not too large, but round and full, with nipples tight and hard. He'd never been as fascinated by breasts as had most of his male friends, but he appreciated them just the same.

"Don't you want me?" she asked. She caught one of his hands and brought it up to her breast, pushing his thumb across the nipple. "Don't you want to fuck me?"

Harry closed his eyes. Just two weeks ago, the answer would have been an unequivocal yes. He would have torn her knickers off and fucked her right here on the sofa, and he probably would have enjoyed it.

But he would have left feeling empty and guilty, and he wouldn't have returned her owls. He would've have treated her the same way he'd treated every other woman he'd been with -- as someone to have a good time with for a short while, but not much more.

Just as Malfoy had apparently treated people, until Harry.

"I can't," he told her, pulling his hand away. "It's not that I don't like you, I just… I care about Draco too much to do this."

"No, you don't," she replied, giggling. She leaned forward and pressed her breasts against his face. "You fancy this even more. You've just forgotten."

"Pansy!" He pushed her back, but she leaned forward and kissed him, settling her weight on him and effectively trapping him against the sofa. And then, Harry heard the sound of a key turning in the lock and the door opening. He tried to push Pansy away again, but it was as if everything was in slow motion: she laughed and tossed her hair, and settled more firmly against him, grinning maniacally.

And then there was the sound of a bag being dropped, and time resumed its normal speed again.

"What the fuck is this?!"

Harry's blood felt as if it had frozen, but Pansy only kept laughing. She fell off of Harry's lap and onto her back on the sofa, revealing Malfoy standing behind her. He looked furious.

"Draco--" Harry began, but Malfoy cut him off.

"Get out," he growled, glaring at Harry. "I'm surprised you even had the nerve to come here tonight. And you --" He turned to Pansy and looked as if he were about to say something nasty, but then seemed to change his mind. "Are you stoned again?"

"Yes," Pansy said, sounding more tired than anything. "I tried, Draco, but he's far too resistant. He's all yours."

"No, he isn't," Draco replied, his voice dripping with venom. "He's never been mine."

Harry leapt to his feet. "At least let me explain--"

"Explain what?" Malfoy spat, advancing on Harry with a murderous expression. "Why you got me sacked and seduced my roommate, all on the same day?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "That isn't the-- Wait, you got sacked?"

"Get out!" Malfoy shouted. He fumbled for his wand, but Harry got to his own first and pressed the tip of it into Malfoy's chest. Malfoy looked murderous, but he held his hands out to the side in a gesture of submission.

"I don't care if I have to use a binding spell," Harry said, on the verge of shouting himself. "You're going to shut up and fucking listen to me."

Malfoy glowered at him. "Pansy too?"

"Go to bed, Pansy," Harry said, not tearing his eyes from Malfoy's. "Sleep it off."

Pansy giggled and stumbled into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

"Fine," Malfoy said, as casually as if he'd been given a choice in the matter. "Talk."

Harry paused -- he had to remind himself that his objective here was to convince Malfoy to believe him, not to win an argument. He took a calming breath before he spoke again.

"I have no idea what happened to you today," he began, "so don't try to blame me for it. All I know is that I've been working for a year on a case in which a bank is allegedly laundering money for former Death Eaters. I learned only today that the Foundation you work for is suspected to be involved. And when my boss found out that we've been seeing each other, she accused me of wrecking the entire case and then put me on leave."

He waited for a response, but Malfoy's face remained impassive, as though he hadn't believed a word. Harry gritted his teeth in frustration.

"Come on, Draco, I had nothing to do with you getting sacked! I came here tonight looking for you because you sent all my fucking owls back. Pansy was stoned out of her mind and she attacked me, and that's all. Nothing happened."

"Are you finished?" Malfoy asked, not bothering to dampen his sarcasm.

"Yes," Harry replied. He wasn't sure what else to say to that.

"Good, because now it's your turn to fucking listen," Malfoy began. "I got sacked today because someone at Randkings Bank sent a private owl to the Director of the Foundation telling him that the Ministry was going to investigate. On top of that, he'd somehow learned that I've been seeing you, and he accused me of working with you and spying for the government, in front of the entire staff. And when I told them it was just a coincidence, another person said he'd heard you tell someone at a pub that you weren't interested in me at all. You said that you were actually interested in Pansy and you were just going to use me to get her and the Foundation in one shot."

"That's not…" Harry began, but stopped. He didn't want to lie, not anymore. It wouldn't help matters at this point. He sighed and lowered his wand. "I didn't know about the Randkings connection, but I'll admit that at first, this was about Pansy. I'd heard you were a bit of a player and that she went after your cast-offs, so I thought I'd give it a shot."

"It looks like you got what you wanted," Malfoy scowled.

"But I changed my mind," Harry said. He was starting to sound a bit desperate, but he didn't care. "I got to know you and… I always thought I was straight before, but now I know I'm not. It stopped being about Pansy more than a week ago. This is about you and me."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That's pathetic, Potter. Do you really expect me to believe that? I'm not stupid, you know."

"I didn't--" Harry began, but Malfoy cut him off with a vicious glare.

"I've lost everything, Potter. Without that job, I have nothing. No one else will hire me. No one else will even look past my fucking name. I'm going to lose this flat and everything in it, and it's your fault!" He pushed past Harry and stalked toward his bedroom, not even glancing back over his shoulder. "So stay and fuck Pansy, or leave. I don't care. Just leave me the fuck alone."

He slammed the door behind him, and Harry felt as if something in his chest had snapped. He crossed to Malfoy's door and pressed his forehead against it, squeezing his eyes shut.

Malfoy cared about him. He had to -- why else would he leave the room without hexing him or taking a swing at him? That's what he would have done years ago, when they despised each other. Perhaps that just meant they'd both grown up.

Harry swallowed down his frustration. If he walked away now, it would all be over, and he'd probably never see Malfoy again. This was the only chance he'd have to make this work. And it was what he wanted, he realized. He wanted to try this, even though it was different than anything he'd ever done, and even though he knew it would be difficult. He couldn't simply walk away from Malfoy.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The room was dark and quiet, and for a moment he wondered if Malfoy had disapparated. He stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

"Draco?"

He'd barely finished the word when he was slammed back against it, Malfoy's hand around his throat.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who can't listen," Malfoy hissed. The room began to fill with a dim light, making Malfoy's features appear in sharp relief. He almost looked sinister.

Harry still had his wand in his hand, and it was a testament to the depth of Malfoy's anger that he hadn't noticed. Harry concentrated, and with a thought and a flick, their positions were reversed and Malfoy was bound to the door by tendrils of red light at his wrists and ankles. He gaped at Harry, too surprised even to be angry.

Harry spun his wand in his fingers and then set it on the bedside table, far out of reach. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, uncertain what to do next. He was in too deep to turn back now.

"You didn't let me answer your question," he said.

Malfoy only glared at him in response.

"I see you're going to listen," Harry continued. "Good. You asked why you should believe me. After what you saw when you walked in, I can't say I blame you. But nothing would have happened, even if you hadn't come in. Whether or not you believe that is irrelevant."

Malfoy made a snorting sound and let his head fall back against the door.

Harry stepped forward, close enough to touch Malfoy, though he didn't just yet. "Yes, I flirted with you at that party to get her attention, and yes, I went to Scotland with you because I wanted to see her again. But then you kissed me." Harry paused and leaned forward, close enough to inhale the scent he'd come to associate with Malfoy. It was woodsy and complex, and a bit rough around the edges. He placed his hands on the door on either side of Malfoy's body and sighed. "After that, I was curious. So I came every time you invited me. I told myself and my friends that I was doing it to get into Pansy's knickers, but it wasn't true." He nuzzled Malfoy's neck with the tip of his nose, and -- unable to stop himself -- planted a soft kiss under his jaw. "It was about you. I dreamt about you. I even thought about you when I wanked."

Malfoy's breath seemed to catch at that. He still didn't speak, but his limbs slackened against the magical binds.

"I don't care if you believe me or not," Harry continued, his voice no more than a whisper. "Because when you touched me that night in the club, there was no turning back. Last night you made me feel things I've never felt before, and then you wouldn't even let me touch you in return." Harry trailed one hand down Malfoy's side, relishing the feeling of heat seeping through layers of clothing. "But I wanted to touch you, even though I've never properly touched another man. I've never sucked a cock before. I've never been fucked. Do you really want me to do all of those things with someone else?" He placed one hand on the side of Malfoy's face and tilted it down, looking into his eyes. "If all I'd wanted was to fuck Pansy and get you sacked, would I be in this room now?"

Malfoy didn't answer the question. Instead, he closed his eyes. After several long seconds, he opened them again and blinked at Harry. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me to kiss you?"

"No," Malfoy whispered in response, his eyes defiant.

Harry considered holding out for an actual request, but he wasn't sure he would get one, so he kissed Malfoy. It was soft and a bit wet, and almost painfully slow, but Harry relished it because Malfoy kissed him back, despite his apparent reluctance. In fact, he was being remarkably cooperative for someone in his position. An image of Malfoy pressed against a door several weeks earlier flashed across Harry's mind, and the jolt of desire he felt nearly made him moan. He pulled away to catch his breath, and let his forehead fall on Malfoy's shoulder.

"My, my, Potter, tongue? How thrilling."

"You seemed to enjoy it well enough these last few weeks," Harry said, looking up at him.

"That's when I was carefully seducing a straight man," Malfoy retorted. "I was taking my time."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You knew I was straight?"

"Of course. It was horribly obvious. Pansy and I even had a running bet about it."

Harry snorted. "A bet?"

"Yes," Malfoy replied, looking smug. "She bet me a share of the rent that I couldn't bed you within a month. Do you feel horribly pathetic and used now?"

Harry felt a spike of annoyance, but he swallowed it down. "After what I did, I've no right to judge."

Malfoy's lips pressed into a thin line. "Are you listening, Potter? I was only trying to get you into bed to settle a bet with Pansy. You're professing love and I'm telling you I don't care."

Harry smirked. "Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I don't love you. At the moment, I'm not even sure I like you. But I do know one thing." He leaned forward and pressed his palm against Malfoy's groin, finding his cock half-hard already. He stroked it through Malfoy's trousers, and it grew beneath his fingers. He was a bit bewildered by his own boldness, but it felt right. He knew he was right about this, about Malfoy. "This isn't just about a bet anymore. You want me."

"Fuck you," Malfoy retorted, though it wasn't terribly convincing.

Harry almost grinned. He unfastened the snap of Malfoy's trousers and pulled the zip down, then wrapped his fingers around Malfoy's cock. "Promise?"

Malfoy's only response was a sharp intake of breath.

Harry could hardly believe he was doing this, but it didn't seem strange. In fact, it felt rather exciting to be touching Malfoy like this, stroking his cock while he was bound to the door, unable to move or even resist. Malfoy's head fell back and he made a sound like a groan, and Harry felt more powerful than he'd ever felt with a wand in his hand. There wasn't magic to do something like this. Only people could make each other moan in ecstasy, and he was determined to hear more of it.

He spit into his hand to ease the friction, but he kept his strokes slow and long, the sort he used on himself when he wanted to take his time. Malfoy's prick was hard and leaking, and he bit his lip when Harry ran a thumb over the head to smear the fluid there.

Harry pulled Malfoy's head down for a rough kiss, which seemed to be met with enthusiasm. "I think you like this," Harry whispered against Malfoy's lips.

"You're pulling me off," Malfoy said in response. "Of course I like it."

"No, this," Harry said, releasing Malfoy's prick and stepping back. "You're bound to your own bedroom door, helpless and unable to stop me from doing whatever I want to do to you. And you like it."

Malfoy didn't answer: he just stared at Harry, his eyes unusually dark. His hair was mussed and he looked a bit uncomfortable with his limbs bound to the door. He was completely dressed, but his prick jutted out from his trousers almost comically.

Harry regarded him for a moment, wondering what to do next. He'd never done any of this before, and he wasn't sure he'd be good at it. But he might not get another chance. Even though he was sure Malfoy was lying about how he felt, it might not matter at the end of the night. Just because Malfoy wanted this didn't mean he would ever admit to it.

Harry clenched his jaw. He would worry about tomorrow in the morning.

He stepped forward again and kissed Malfoy, then unbuttoned his shirt slowly. He kissed and licked his way down Malfoy's chest, moving lower with every undone button, until he was circling Malfoy's navel with his tongue. He lowered himself to his knees after that, and looked up.

Malfoy was staring at him, his eyes blazing. Harry wasn't sure if it was from desire, anger, or surprise, but he decided not to ask.

He regarded Malfoy's cock for a moment as it bobbed before his face, and then closed his mouth around the head. Malfoy sucked in a breath at that, and Harry would have smiled if he could. It felt strange to have something this size in his mouth, and avoiding scraping his teeth against it was awkward -- but it wasn't as disturbing as he'd imagined it might be. He used his tongue and wrapped his fingers around the base to steady it, and then tried to mimic what Malfoy had done to him the night before.

He stopped when he thought Malfoy was getting close, and took the opportunity to work Malfoy's trousers down to his knees. When he turned his attention to Malfoy's cock again, he found a rhythm that Malfoy seemed to like.

At least, Harry assumed he liked it, as he'd not made much noise so far other than heavy breathing. After a moment he began to wonder if there was something he wasn't doing right.

"Don't you like having your cock sucked, Malfoy?" he said. He stared up at him and stroked the shaft slowly.

Malfoy looked down at him and didn't say anything.

"I'll bet you fantasized about this," Harry continued. "Me, on my knees, doing this." He paused to swallow Malfoy's cock once before coming off and gazing up at him.

"No," Malfoy said. "I didn't."

"Then what did you fantasize about?"

"Why should I tell you?"

Harry flicked his tongue over the head and then let go of Malfoy's cock. He stood and pressed against Malfoy, kissing a trail down his throat. "Because I won't let you come if you don't cooperate."

"Cooperate?" Malfoy repeated. His voice hitched a bit as Harry's tongue flicked across a nipple. "I'm stuck to the fucking door. It's not as if I have a choice."

Harry took the nipple between his teeth and tugged, just enough to see if Malfoy liked it. He gasped, and Harry released it. "Oh, but you do. You can consent to this, or not." He stood straight and stared at Malfoy. "That's your choice. If you want to go on pretending you're resisting, that's fine. I'm happy to play that game, but let's be honest about it. If I'm about to rape you, I'd at least like to know it."

"Would you stop if I asked?" Malfoy said.

"That depends on whether it was what you wanted." Harry tilted his head and watched Malfoy. "So tell me what you want."

Malfoy stared at him, so long that Harry wondered if he'd guessed correctly. He had no idea what he was doing, or even if he were going about this the right way. He was starting to wish he'd learnt Legilimancy after all.

Malfoy closed his eyes and dropped his head, and said in a whisper, "Are you sure this is what you want, Harry?"

Harry froze. "Sorry?"

Malfoy looked up again. "Are you playing a game with me, or do you mean it?"

Harry stared back, unable to keep the surprise from his face. "Why are you asking me this?"

Malfoy sighed. "I have no particular reason to trust you. I can get a quick fuck anytime I want, but this is different."

"Different how?"

"How many questions do you plan to ask before answering one of mine?"

Harry snorted. "Until two weeks ago, I thought I was straight. Do you really think I'd be here sucking you off if I weren't taking it seriously?"

"Another fucking question," Malfoy said.

"All right, fine," Harry replied, folding his arms over his chest. "It's not a game. I like you, and I'd like this to be about more than just sex. If that's not what you want, then I'll leave tomorrow morning and we won't speak of it again. Deal?"

"Deal," Malfoy replied, a bit more quickly than Harry would have liked.

Harry shook his head in mock annoyance. "Do you always talk this much before sex? I thought that was a girl thing."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Not necessarily."

"So, where were we?" Harry asked, placing his hands on either side of Malfoy's head and leaning in close enough to brush his lips against Malfoy's neck. "Ah, yes. I was asking you what you wanted." He felt Malfoy's lips against his ear, and it made him shiver.

"What I really want?" Malfoy whispered.

Harry swallowed, steeling himself for something truly bizarre. Or painful. Or both. "Will you get on with it, please?"

Malfoy's tongue traced the shell of Harry's ear, and it was all Harry could do not to whimper at the sensation. "I want you to fuck me."

Harry looked up, not sure he'd heard that correctly. "What?"

"Please," Malfoy said. He caught Harry's lips in a kiss, and it was another minute before they came up for air. "That's what I fantasized about," Malfoy whispered against Harry's lips. "You fucking me. Your cock inside m--"

Harry cut him off with another kiss, his head spinning. He hadn't expected that, for some reason. He'd spent a good part of the afternoon trying to talk himself into being on bottom, and it hadn't occurred to him that it might be the other way around.

"Here?" he gasped when they broke the kiss. He couldn't quite wrap his brain around the gymnastics required to do it with Malfoy bound to the door.

"I'd prefer to be on the bed," Malfoy replied. Harry's eyes narrowed, and Malfoy groaned. "Oh, come on, aren't we past that part?" His gaze seemed to drift for a moment and he whispered a word, and the binds Harry had cast fell away. He shrugged, rubbing at his wrists. "I could always escape. I just didn't want to."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at that, and Malfoy grinned back. He stepped out of his trousers, and then caught Harry's wrist and tugged him toward the bed.

"So how should we do this? Mmm, with you on your back, I think." Malfoy turned them and pressed Harry back against the bed.

"Wouldn't it help if I undressed?" Harry quipped, reaching down to unfasten his trousers.

"If you like," Malfoy replied. He helped tug Harry's trousers off, almost pulling him off the bed in the process.

A minute later, they were both undressed, and Malfoy was straddling Harry's hips. He'd summoned a tube of something Harry assumed was lubricant, and he was doing something to himself that Harry couldn't see. He then wrapped a slick hand around Harry's cock and stroked, and Harry sighed at the sensation.

"Ready?" Malfoy said, moving forward a bit so that Harry's cock was behind him.

"Just like that?" Harry asked. "With no foreplay or anything?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I thought that was a girl thing."

"Not necessarily," Harry replied with a grin.

And then he felt Malfoy position the head of his cock against his body, and he began to sink. Harry's first thought was that it felt tight, almost impossibly so. Malfoy's face looked a bit tense, and Harry wondered if it hurt. Malfoy kept moving though, sliding down bit by bit, and after what seemed to be a full minute, Harry's cock was completely engulfed.

Malfoy sighed and closed his eyes, and didn't say anything. Harry bit his lip, wondering how long he'd have to wait. The urge to move to nearly overwhelming, but he didn't exactly know how it was done.

"Well?" Malfoy asked, opening his eyes again.

"I hope there's more to it than that," Harry remarked. "Otherwise I don't see how--" His comment was cut off by Malfoy rising up and sitting down again, tight muscles gripping Harry's cock in an incredibly pleasant way. "Oh, fuck."

"That's the idea," Malfoy said.

The rhythm Malfoy established was nice for a while, and then Harry wanted to move faster, so he thrust up from the bottom while Malfoy braced himself on Harry's knees. They swapped positions soon after that, with Malfoy on his back with his knees pressed into his chest, and Harry pounding into him. It was much rougher than Harry had ever been with a woman. He worried he might be hurting Malfoy, but the sounds Malfoy was making seemed to indicate otherwise.

Harry shifted his position a bit, and Malfoy groaned and reached between them to pull at his own prick, mumbling, "Like-that-like-that-like -- oh god!"

Harry tried to keep doing exactly what he was doing, but it felt really good for him as well, and he found himself getting close. "I'm sorry," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to concentrate. "I don't think I can--"

"It's okay," Malfoy said, looking up at him.

That was all it took for Harry to come. He felt himself spilling into Malfoy, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from saying something stupid. It was long and intense, and he collapsed onto Malfoy afterward, panting.

"Is it always like this with you?" he asked. "I come so hard I can't see straight afterwards."

Malfoy laughed. "Oh, yes, Harry. That's my specialty."

Harry shifted enough to pull out, and before he could begin to worry about they mess they'd made, he felt a tingle of magic. He started to say something, but decided discretion was probably better for the time being. Instead, he slid down the bed until he was lying between Malfoy's thighs.

"I suppose I should finish what I started?" he asked, then licked a stripe up Malfoy's shaft.

"It won't take long," Malfoy replied with a sigh.

It didn't take long -- Harry had only just found a rhythm when Malfoy groaned and stuttered a warning. Harry finished him with his hand, not quite comfortable with the other option yet. Malfoy didn't seem to mind, though. He was completely incoherent when he came, and Harry wondered if he'd intentionally held back as well. Harry smiled and kissed the inside of Malfoy's thigh.

"Mmmm," Malfoy said at last. "Come here."

Harry crawled up Malfoy's body and into his open arms. "Oh, you're a cuddler, are you?"

"No," Malfoy replied, but he wrapped his arms around Harry anyway.

Harry bit back the sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he smiled into Malfoy's shoulder, and as the duvet settled itself over them, he thought he just might be able to get used to this.

~*~

When Harry opened his eyes, he wasn't quite sure where he was at first. Dim light filtered through the windows, but it was coming from the wrong direction. The ceiling looked different. And--

"Oh," he mouthed, as the events of the night before washed over him. He turned his head slowly and saw that Malfoy was still asleep. Harry stared at the ceiling again.

This was the uncomfortable part. Would Malfoy be cool toward him this morning? Would they be able to look at each other after what had happened between them? Harry closed his eyes and sighed.

He managed to edge out of bed without disturbing Malfoy, and crept across the room to the closed door. Clothes were strewn about the floor, and he found a pair of trousers to pull on. They seemed to be Malfoy's, as they were a bit long for him, but he didn't care. The flat was quiet and dim as he made his way to the toilet. He splashed some water on his face and rinsed his mouth out, then stared at his reflection in the mirror.

"Is this what you want?" he whispered. He'd been unsatisfied with every relationship he'd had as an adult, and there was no reason to think this one would be any different. The novelty of it being with a man was bound to wear off sooner or later and he'd be right back where he always was -- dealing with a person who was just as flawed as he was.

But if he didn't give it an honest try, he would always regret it. It had been a long time since he'd felt fluttery and nervous around someone, since he'd wanted so badly for someone to like him and to find him attractive. Since someone had wanted him for something other than the man he used to be.

He didn't know if Malfoy was that person, but he really wanted to find out.

He emerged from the toilet to find Pansy sitting on the sofa dressed in a robe, a hot water bottle pressed to her forehead. He didn't know if she'd been sitting there when he passed before or not.

"Good morning," he said.

"Is it?" she quipped. "For you, perhaps." She reached for a large bottle of McCracken's Original Recipe Hangover Potion sitting on the sofa table and took a swig.

Harry smiled. "That stuff only works for alcohol, you know. It won't do you any good."

She frowned at the label. "Pity you didn't tell me that before I'd drunk half the bottle." She set it aside with a groan and slumped back against the sofa cushions. "I don't suppose you could put me out of my misery?"

"You've got a long week ahead of you," Harry replied. "And I think you earned it."

She groaned. "Oh, god. What did I do?"

"You don't remember?" She shook her head, and Harry sighed. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now."

"That bad?" She shifted the hot water bottle to the other side of her head. "So you slept here last night, then?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"And considering that those are Draco's trousers, I assume it went well?"

Harry shrugged. "He won, didn't he?"

"Won?" she asked, and then looked a bit uncomfortable as the realization set in. "He told you about that?"

"Yes," Harry said. "But it's all right. It's not any worse than anything I've done."

Pansy sighed and put the hot water bottle on the sofa table. "I already knew I'd lost when I met you for lunch last week. I could see the effect you'd had on him, and I wanted to know if you were serious about him. He likes you."

Harry snorted. "He has a bit of difficulty saying so."

Pansy smiled. "That he does."

They stared at each other for a moment, and Harry wondered if he should confess to her what his original intentions had been. Honesty wasn't always best, though -- it might do more harm than good.

Malfoy's door clicked open and he emerged, yawning and wearing only a pair of dark-colored boxers. "Do you always get up this early?" he asked.

Harry smiled. "On workdays."

"Neither of us is working today, are we?" Malfoy replied. He headed towards the toilet, staggering a bit, as if he weren't quite awake yet.

"He's such a treasure in the morning," Pansy quipped. "You're best off not speaking to him until noon."

Harry grinned. "That makes two of us."

"He doesn't deserve you, you know," she said, her voice quiet. "He can be quite a bastard. He's selfish and crude, and vindictive at times." She paused. "But I adore him, and I want to see him happy."

"What about you?" Harry asked. "Don't you deserve to be happy?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I seem doomed to repeat my mother's mistakes. Have any single friends who aren't gay?"

Harry smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do."

She sighed and massaged her temples. "Put in a good word for me, won't you?"

When Malfoy came out again, he wrapped his arms around Harry from behind and rested his chin on Harry's shoulder. It was such an intimate gesture that Harry couldn't help being surprised by it. He looked over at Pansy to see that she was beaming at them, despite her headache.

"It's too early to be standing," Malfoy groaned. "Come back to bed." With that, he released Harry and headed back toward his bedroom.

Harry winked at Pansy and followed him.

"I'll just be here on the sofa," she called after them. "Suffering horribly."

Malfoy climbed back into bed and looked like he might actually go back to sleep. Harry stripped off the trousers and settled next to him, watching him. He looked odd like this: tousled and scruffy, and not the sleek playboy he usually seemed. Harry liked it.

"Why are you staring at me?" Malfoy asked, opening his eyes. "It's making me paranoid."

"I'm not staring," Harry replied, and worked his hand under the duvet and down Malfoy's body until he found what he was looking for.

Malfoy closed his eyes. "For a straight boy, you've certainly caught on quick."

Harry kissed him, and they turned to face each other. Malfoy pressed their cocks together, and they each took turns stroking them together, going slowly. It was nice, and completely different from what they'd done the night before. After a while, Malfoy fumbled for the lube and they sped up the pace. Harry liked the feeling of Malfoy's cock against his and the pressure of his fingers, tight in places his own hand usually wasn't.

They came within a minute of each other, and the casualness of it seemed remarkable to Harry. Sex with women had always seemed more stressful, less like fun and more like work. But with Malfoy, he felt comfortable.

He had a flash of panic and had to close his eyes -- what if this was just sex for Malfoy after all? He knew better than to let himself feel anything. It always ended badly when he did.

"Seeing as neither of us has anything to do today," Malfoy said, yawning again, "want to have a bit of a lie in?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, trying to sound casual. "Sure."

"Maybe we can get some take-away tonight," Malfoy continued, draping one arm across Harry's chest. "I don't think Pansy is up to going out for a while. What did she take, anyway?"

"M," Harry said. "Quite a lot, I think."

Malfoy sighed. "She needs to get a life." He paused, then popped his head up to look at Harry. "Do you know anyone we could set her up with?"

Harry smiled. "Possibly."

Malfoy settled down again, snuggling into Harry's shoulder. "Good. Maybe if I get her laid, she'll let me freeload off of her for a while."

Harry took a deep breath. "So we're going to give this a shot, then?" He felt stupid almost immediately, but he was driving himself crazy thinking about it. If they didn't talk about it soon, he didn't think he could bear it much longer.

Malfoy's eyes were closed, but he smiled. "Yes, Harry. We're going to do just that."

Harry exhaled and closed his eyes. That was a good enough answer for now.

~*~

Epilogue

"Are you ready?" Harry asked, poking his head into the bathroom.

"You're making me nervous, you know," Draco retorted, running his fingers through his hair. "I wasn't anxious about this at all until you started in."

"Sorry," Harry replied. "It's just that I really want this to work out for you. I want to help."

Draco turned to face him. "You've already helped me quite a lot."

Harry leaned against the doorway and smiled. "You know I like having you here."

"And I like paying my share of the rent in blow jobs," Draco quipped. "But that's hardly a viable career." Harry's witty retort was cut off by a look of annoyance from Draco. "Spare me the rentboy jokes, for once. I'm serious -- if you hadn't got my records unclassified, I wouldn't be interviewing for this position at all, would I? So thank you, for the hundredth time. And if you rub it in my face again, I'll hex you."

"I'm not rubbing it in," Harry replied.

"Yes, you are. Do shut up about it."

"How about this, then," Harry said, stepping into the room and pressing Draco up against the sink. "If you get the job, you'll get a lovely reward."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "How lovely?"

Harry smirked. "More lovely than you can imagine."

Draco grinned. "I dunno. I can imagine quite a lot."

Harry kissed him. "I love it when you quote Star Wars."

"I know," Draco replied, shoving him away. "You're such a geek."

"Don't forget, we're meeting everyone at eight," Harry said as Draco pushed past him into the bedroom.

"So looking forward to it," Draco mumbled. "If I have to endure another evening of Pansy and Weasley staring into each other's eyes, I'll be quite cross."

"Is it any worse than Neville and Louis?" Harry retorted, though he privately agreed.

"No comment," Draco replied, turning to face Harry. "How do I look?"

"Good enough to eat," Harry said. The sight of Draco in business robes was oddly erotic. He grinned and tugged Draco toward him, then reached down to unfasten his trousers.

"Is that all you think about?" Draco said, rolling his eyes.

But Draco was already getting hard, and by the time Harry dropped to his knees and freed his cock, he was undeniably aroused.

"Just don't get anything on my robes," he said as Harry's tongue flicked across the tip. "And make it quick, or I'll be late."

Harry looked up at him. "I'm about to suck your dick and you're complaining?"

Draco groaned. "I'm nervous as fuck, and I can't believe you're thinking about sex at a time like this."

"I always think about sex," Harry retorted. "Besides, you need to relax."

"God you're good at that," Draco said, closing his eyes as Harry sucked him in. "Oh yeah, that's…" His hand clenched Harry's hair and pushed his head forward ever so slightly. "Oh my god, just like that."

It only took three minutes, which was a record, considering that Draco prided himself on being able to last a long time. He pulled Harry up and kissed him, groaning at the taste of himself on Harry's tongue.

"I love you," Draco whispered against Harry's lips.

It was the first time he'd said it, and Harry was left speechless for a moment. Finally, he smiled and said, "I know."

~*~

fin