Fanfiction by Lilith

Back to Part 1


Harry awoke feeling like a Bludger was battering the inside of his skull. This time, though, there was the added pain of a fully dressed Malfoy glaring down at his naked body. That mouth that had done such miraculous things to him last night was now curled into a scowl.

"Get up. They'll be back soon."

"We need to talk," Harry croaked, although he wasn't quite sure what he could say.

"No, we definitely don't."

"Malf-- Draco, I know what you're going through --"

The Slytherin rounded on him, wand drawn and a curse already forming on his lips. "Don't presume to know anything about me, Potter. If I was the slightest bit like you, I'd cruciate myself until it passed."

He stormed off without another word. Groaning, Harry slid out of the warm bed and away from the peaceful feeling that had sheltered him all night. In the harsh daylight the stains they'd left on the sheets were all too visible. Harry wondered if the stains left on his body were just as obvious. It wasn't hard to Scourgify the place and get Krum's tuxedo looking good as new, but he was almost sorry when it was done. Still, he had to leave before he came across Ginny's dress again and remembered the best blow job of his entire life that would never, could never, happen again.

Malfoy was in the washroom fiddling with the shelf of potions and creams when Harry finally ventured out. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Harry. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Harry was surprised; the last thing he'd expected was an apology. "It's okay. Last night … it wasn't us."

Draco's entire body froze. Harry remembered how it had felt against him just seconds before climax, when he'd known full well that Ginny was nowhere around, and he knew that what he'd just said was a lie. But before he could explain, Malfoy came back to life. "No, it wasn't," he agreed, his voice cold and businesslike. "I'm glad you understand that. I presume you can find your own way back?" Without waiting for an answer he Apparated away.

Yes, Draco Malfoy was every bit as exasperating as he had been in school.

Harry took one last walk through the flat to make sure there was no evidence of their visit (none that they didn't intend, that is) and tucked one last parchment into the couch cushions ("Floo me, day or night, XOX Darla"). He was about to leave when he noticed the hearth, covered with photographs; from one, a familiar blond head grinned up at him. The smile was completely free and unguarded, and Harry wondered what had provoked it. "I still think we need to talk," he said to the photograph, and then stared across the street where he imagined Malfoy might possibly be watching him -- might even be listening. The idea was not nearly as upsetting as it once would have been.

But when he Apparated back across the street, Malfoy's door was shut tight and warded so heavily that Harry could feel the uncomfortable magic bristling at the back of his neck.

*****

Draco didn't leave his room until late in the evening. By then, Harry had been watching Ginny and Viktor for several hours. They'd unpacked their bags away, eaten dinner, and now Viktor was taking out his cello. They looked happy and relaxed, and Harry hated them both.

Harry went to the loo and returned to find his chair shoved to the side, Malfoy's taking pride of place. Harry was about to protest when he saw Ginny kneel before Krum. His gut clenched to think of what happened last night. As wrong as he knew it was, he had to hear. "What are they saying?" he asked.

Malfoy hesitated; Harry fully expected he'd be made to beg again. But then the Slytherin waved his wand and Krum's voice filled their room.

"Now, my darling, I will play for you a song of love …"

"Oh, please, not this again," sighed Malfoy. "'I learned it from a cross-eyed Macedonian fiddler...'"

"… I learned it from a blind violinist in Karlovo."

"Close enough," Malfoy quipped.

"He said to me, 'Viktor, you will only play this song for the one you want with to spend your life...'"

"'To spend your life with,' you pillock. You'd think as many times as you've said it, you'd get it right. Cup of tea, Potter?"

Harry thought at first that Malfoy was commanding him to fix tea, but then realised it was an offer. "Um, sure. Thanks."

A cup floated toward him as the room. Just the right amount of milk and sugar -- and when had Draco learned how he liked his tea? "About the same time as he'd learned the other man's preferences" he answered silently. (Steeped just a minute too long, the bitterness tempered with a drop of milk.) He pushed these troubling thoughts aside before they could become troubling, listening as the room filled with Viktor's melancholic melody. If this was a love song, Harry thought, it was more about the pains of love than its joys. It was sad and beautiful, though, and he sat as rapt as Ginny did. Malfoy, on the other hand, was looking more and more perplexed with each passing bar.

"Harry…" and Malfoy sounded so perplexed that Harry hardly registered the use of his first name, "did he not drink his tonic?"

"That stuff he has before meals? Yeah, he did. Why?"

"From that gold flask in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, that's the one. What's going on?"

"He shouldn't be able to do this. Unless there's some kind of delayed reaction … I need to check my notes …"

He started to rise, but Harry leapt up in front of him. "Malfoy! For the last time, tell me what you did."

"Are you all right?"

Ginny's voice broke through what was now silence. Harry whirled around to see her helping move the cello away before kneeling between Viktor's legs.

"I don't know … all of sudden I feel pain, like my ears about to explode …"

"Perfect," Harry heard Malfoy whisper, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Ginny.

"Honey, maybe you should lay down."

"No, no, it passed. Look, is fine now." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Is probably just from Apparating so far."

"You're probably right. But if it happens again, you should stop in at St. Mungo's …"

Harry threw himself back down into his chair and glared at the image, remembering too well when all Ginny's concerns had been for him. On the contrary, Malfoy looked quite chuffed. "What did you do?" Harry asked again.

"Oh, let's just say that playing his instrument is going to be very painful from now on."

"What did you put in his tonic?"

"Not in his tonic, Potter, that'd be too easy to detect. I charmed that precious gold flask of his with a Vox charm keyed to musical instruments. You know how loud their voices must be for us to hear them over here? That's what Krum's going to hear every time he touches his cello."

"And when he plays with the orchestra…"

"Then his head really might explode! At the very least, it'll feel like it." Malfoy grinned maniacally, thoroughly pleased with the success of his devious plan, and Harry started to grin back. But then he noticed that Ginny and Viktor were engaged in a deep kiss. Ginny's cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, and she looked at Krum with such solicitude that Harry felt a pang of regret for what they were doing.

"Maybe this is wrong," he said.

"Oh, Potter, not another speech about illegal spells. Give it a rest."

"No, not the spells. Just … all of this." He waved his hand toward the image. "What if the only thing they've done wrong is to fall in love?"

Malfoy narrowed his silvery eyes and studied him like a museum piece. "You really believe in love, Potter?"

"Of course I do. Don't you?"

In that infuriating way he had, Malfoy answered the question with his own. "What is it then?"

"Love? It's … it's complicated." Malfoy just shrugged, not giving him a break, so Harry tried again. "It's like, you're hollow, like there's something missing inside you, but you can't fill it up by yourself. No matter what you do, you still feel empty. And then you find someone who fits perfectly into that missing space. And they want the same things as you do, and they care about things the same way as you do, and then suddenly you're not empty anymore. I think that's what love is."

"And that's what you had with Girl Weasley."

"That's what I had with Ginny, yes."

Malfoy shook his head. "Who would have believed you'd be such a romantic still, after all you've seen. Do you know how easy it would be to crush you?"

His eyes gleamed and Harry found himself reaching instinctively for his wand. "Stronger wizards than you have tried," Harry reminded him.

"Perhaps. But perhaps they didn't know where to attack."

"And you do?"

"Perhaps," Draco repeated, feigning boredom as he added, "if I cared to." He gestured toward the images. "Oh look, they're heading to the bedroom. Now you can really torture yourself over that empty space that Viktor does such a good job of filling up."

It was hard enough knowing that not long ago he had been lying on those very same sheets with Malfoy without the man being an utter twonk. "Piss off, Malfoy!"

"Gladly, Potter. But if you're having second thoughts about what we're doing here, just keep this in mind: right now, Ginny Weasley thinks she's the most important thing in the world. She's lit up like the front window of her brothers' joke shop, all because of how that man looks at her. But one day soon she'll realise that she was just a stepping stone to a visa, or to her father's Ministry connections, or whatever he needs at that moment. And when that happens, the innocent girl you know will disappear forever."

Harry didn't need to ask if this was what had happened to Malfoy. Although the Slytherin stared straight ahead, carefully avoiding Harry's eye, his carefully constructed mask had slipped. It was at that moment, for the first time in their long acquaintance, that Harry consciously decided to go easy on Malfoy.

"You know, one thing that's been bothering me is that, with my chair on the side like this, I can never see Ginny's face when they're in bed."

Malfoy's expression was comical. Harry knew that he'd expected to be flambéd and didn't quite know how to react to the opposite. "You … you want us to swap places?"

Harry shrugged. "If it's all right with you. I reckon it'll take a few more days before this mission comes full bloom -- though this is a good start, I've got to hand you that."

The blond beamed bright as sunshine at the unanticipated praise. "It was quite good, wasn't it?" He stood up and drew his wand. "Right, so we'll put your chair over there … or ..." With a whispered spell his loveseat stretched into a larger sofa. "Is this all right?"

"Sure it is." In truth, Harry was impressed that the other man was willing to broker this truce. To seal the deal, Harry plopped down beside Malfoy and said, "So. Crisps or popcorn?"

"Oh, crisps, please. Are there any tea biscuits left?"

"I think so. I have Licorice Wands, too…"

The rest of that evening was spent with the two men divvying up sweets and tentatively trying out the fit of their new … could it be called friendship? Perhaps, for they found the scenes across the street weren't nearly as painful when they were watching together, adding their own dialogue and laughing at things that earlier would have caused distress. And if they slept together again, it wasn't the result of any displaced passion or embarrassing inebriation. It was simply full bellies, the quiet of the night, and a genuine sense of comfort that left the two men nodding their sleepy heads on the couch they shared.

*****

"I've brought lunch. Egg salad or tunafish?"

Over the next days, the men settled into a comfortable pattern. Harry rose early enough to see Ginny off to work; she'd taken on several Minister's children for flying lessons. After she left, Harry would wander out for a while to shop or explore the Muggle sights. He'd return to Draco's animated updates of what he'd missed.

Harry was surprised that he got on with his former enemy so well. Their attentions were ostensibly focused on their exes, but along the way Harry discovered all sorts of things about Draco Malfoy himself. Like the fact that he'd become a curse-breaker -- one of the best according to his own account. Strangely, that boast didn't send Harry's temper rising as it once would have, probably because Malfoy was as quick to admit his own failings as his successes. He had Harry in stitches over the Norwegian crone whose wolfhound had taken an unhealthy carnal interest in young blond wizards, but then went strangely quiet after recounting his failure to save several children, both Muggle and magical, from a demented sorcerer. This wasn't the spoiled child that Harry remembered, but a man who'd made his own way in the world, and taken to heart each of its lessons.

But he could still be an obnoxious prat when he wanted to be.

"I swear, Potter, do you deliberately select the blandest foods? You could just as easily to go to Diagon for some real food."

"Fine, you can pick out dinner. I like the corner shop. Mina's sister is stopping there on her way back to Lahore."

"Who? Oh, never mind, I have no intention of involving myself in your Muggle soap opus. I'll have the tuna. Is it on white?"

"Soap operas. And yeah." Harry flopped on the couch beside Malfoy, handing him the sandwich packet. "So what's happening?"

"He just got back from the Healer. No progress discovering the curse, thank you very much. She found another note while he was gone -- brilliant idea putting them in his robes, by the way -- but she hasn't mentioned it yet."

The discovery of the first note a few nights earlier had triggered an argument, but nothing on the scale that Harry had hoped. Malfoy urged patience; it might take time, he promised, but Krum's excuses would soon wear thin. Harry wondered if that Draco spoke from experience, but he didn't feel comfortable asking. He didn't really want to hear about Viktor and Draco, and he didn't want to question why.

"Who is Darla?" Ginny was asking now, her voice heavy with worry. Harry snuck his hand into Malfoy's bag of crisps and got ready for the show.

"Darla? I don't know any Darla."

"Viktor, please don't lie to me. There's a woman named Darla who wants you to floo her, day or night. You must know what that's about."

"Ginevra, darling, is this more imaginations? Darla? I do not know this woman."

"No, this isn't my imagination!" Ginny waved the parchment at Viktor, who stared at it dubiously. "This is real.

"Darling, I do not know. Maybe … maybe this is just a woman in the audience, someone who wants me to notice. Her, I do not notice. I am with you."

"Just listen to him, trying to weasel his way out."

"He didn't do anything, Potter."

"Ah, yeah, right." But that hardly mattered. Their break-up was imminent, Harry could feel it. Any minute now, Ginny would turn to Viktor and tell him it was over. She'd be distraught when she left, with nowhere to turn. And Harry … Harry would find her, dry her tears, and take her home where she belonged. It was about to happen, any minute now …

"Do you promise? Because if you're seeing someone else, you can tell me. I'll forgive you, I just … I need you to be honest with me."

"No!!"

Draco laughed at Harry's outburst. "You didn't honestly think a few notes were going to be enough to break them apart, did you?"

"No, but I …"

"They love each other, Potter. And here I thought you were the romantic. Don't you think love is strong enough to help them weather a few storms?"

Glum, Harry watched as Viktor kissed Ginny's hands. "You are my life, Ginevra. I could lose my money, my music, even my hair." Malfoy snorted loudly at that. "As long as I have you, I have everything I need. Do you think I could give that up for other woman?"

"No, I don't." Ginny slid closer to Krum, throwing her arms around his neck. "If you feel like I do, Viktor, then I know you couldn't."

"And what if my hearing never comes back? What if I can never play the cello again?"

"Then you'll play my body instead, and I'll make music for you."

"All right, that's it." Draco dispensed with his sandwich wrapper with a flick of his wand. "If I hear one more word of this I'll be sick. And you'll not torture yourself with this tripe either, Potter. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Always with the questions! Is it too much to show a modicum of trust at this point in our relationship?"

Harry thought about that for just a second and then did something he'd never imagined: with no idea of where he'd be taken, he accepted Malfoy's arm and was Apparated away.

He blinked when they reappeared at the edge of a flat, green plain. A thick close of trees rose around them, just barely taller than the ringed goals at each end. On one side was a small raised stand where observers could sit. Harry realised that this was a practice pitch for Quidditch friendlies. "Where are we?"

"The Manor." Not giving Harry time to be stunned by this news, Malfoy strode off towards a small hut nestled at the tree line. "I thought flying might clear our minds."

"I think that's a brilliant idea," praised Harry as he trotted behind.

In no time they'd selected their brooms and taken to the sky. Harry would have been content to just float peacefully -- until now, he hadn't noticed how much he'd missed the country air -- but Malfoy, ever competitive, was having none of this. "Come on, Potter!" he shouted as he swooped in a curling pattern around Harry's broom. "You fly like a crone!"

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

The wind rushed by as Harry gathered speed, easily catching up with Malfoy and then passing him. Not to be outdone, the blond hunched over and raced forward, executing a smooth barrel roll as he pulled ahead. It looked like so much fun that Harry tried it too, and soon the two were rolling and skimming through the clouds like playful otters.

"Higher?" challenged Malfoy, floating upside down just above Harry.

"Race you!" came the answer as Harry tilted his broom up.

Up they rose, slicing their way through the puffed cotton wool of the stratocumulus. Harry kept his eyes locked on Malfoy's dark robes as they sliced through the misty air, the bracing winds tempered by the thrill coursing through him. At last they surfaced in another world. His gaze dropping irresistibly down, Harry slowed. Waves of white stretched below him, looking so solid he could almost believe they were snow-covered hills.

It'd been far too long since he'd flown like this, with abandon and no purpose other than to see how fast he could go, how high. Ginny rarely flew for fun anymore; it was her job, she said, and even when he did convince her to take to the air she was a cautious flyer. Great coach that she was, she had witnessed too many accidents to savour speed for its own sake.

Malfoy was reckless, Harry decided as the Slytherin dipped and rolled. He used his broom like a pivot, grounding the edges of his body as they buffeted on the winds. Had it been Ginny hanging so high by nothing more than a sweaty hand on a stick of wood, Harry's nerves would have been shot. Instead, he felt eerily calm watching Malfoy frolic. The memory of Draco's gift returned, with the image of that painted seeker chasing a dot of gold high above the earth. If he squinted just right, Harry could just about make out the glitter that enticed Malfoy to soar.

When had he begun to think Malfoy was beautiful?

"Wait for me!" Harry called out. He was faster than his words, though, passing them by as he raced towards Draco. The other man, soon as he noticed him coming, swung 180 degrees on his broom and started back. As if by mutual agreement, both men picked up speed. They careened toward each other, low on their brooms, eyes steeled. One false move, one inch the wrong way, and they would crash head first. Strange then that Harry felt utterly calm.

Time turned sluggish just before they met. Harry had an instant to feel the current of air pushed ahead of Malfoy as he raced forward. He saw pale wind-cracked lips creep up at the corners, just barely. And when both of them rolled ever so slightly, each to their own right, he heard the sharp intake of air that could have been him or could have been Malfoy or might simply have been the cloud sighing with relief that it did not have to catch their fall.

An exhilarated whoop filled the air, and Harry echoed it. Heart racing, he swirled around to see the source of the sound. Malfoy had shot far past their meeting point and now was playfully skimming the tufts of the cumulus as he looped his way back. Harry watched, both entertained and envious. Malfoy looked like a boy again -- maybe not that same annoying kid who'd bragged about dodging helicopters, but young enough not to have had his heart shattered.

As Harry flew to join him, he felt his own years slide away.

*****

"That was brilliant!" Harry exclaimed the moment they Apparated back to the office building.

"Yeah, you might've mentioned that once or twice." Or ten times, but Draco didn't look like he minded. "Next time we'll get the Snitch and …" He froze, raising his hand when Harry started to question him, and drew his wand. Harry felt it then: an unfamiliar magic like a tickle behind his ear -- magic powerful enough to penetrate their combined wards. He stepped into the space left by Draco and, just as they'd moved together on the pitch, followed him into the viewing room.

Harry didn't remember leaving the Spectrescope running. Without their magic to draw upon, it should soon have gone dark, but it was on now and Krum was showering. This was often Malfoy's favourite moment -- he claimed it wasn't because of the fine view but because immediately after Viktor would work the defiled hair cream through his waning follicles.

But tonight their attention was anywhere but the Spectrescope. Harry scanned the room for threats, moving silently opposite Malfoy. At the same moment they spied the intruder: an aged witch whose white bun nestled between the pillows was the only thing holding up her sleeping head. Harry stared at Draco staring at the woman, watching as the blond shook her shoulder.

"Nana?"

The witch blinked a time or two and threw up her arms. "Draco! My dear little dragon!"

If Harry had thought Malfoy looked like a boy before, it was nothing compared to how he looked when he emerged from the crushing hug. With haystack hair and a sheepish grin, he stared in disbelief at the witch. "Nana, what are you doing here? How did you find me? Does Mother know you're in the country?"

"So many questions and not even a proper introduction. Really, Draco, I'd have thought the one thing you'd have learned from that son of mine was manners." She held out her hand to Harry. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Viktor. I've heard so much about you."

"Oh, I'm not …" Malfoy dissolved into a coughing fit and Harry changed his tune. "Um, Mal-- Draco hasn't told me much about you."

"Viktor," said Malfoy, the name coming out like it was spoken through a mouthful of sand, "this is my grandmother, Phaedra Malfoy. Remember I told you she was living abroad? How is Buenos Aires, Nana?"

"The city is lovely and the men are lovelier. You'd enjoy the sights, Draco. Oh, don't give me that look, Viktor, I'm sure you would, too. When are you two coming to visit? Those transatlantic Apparitions aren't as hard on you young folks as they are at my age."

Harry didn't know what kind of "look" he had, but he tried to school his features. Imagining that he was talking to Molly Weasley seemed to help. "I'm sure we'd love to, Madam Malfoy."

"Oh, call me Phaedra, please."

Draco smiled gratefully at Harry before turning his charms to his grandmother. "And what is this 'at my age' rubbish. Honestly, you don't look a day over a hundred."

"Oh, hush, child. At least you've not grown up to be as unctuous as your father, thanks be to Brìghde."

"Nana and Father didn't quite see eye to eye," Malfoy explained.

"That's the nice way to put it, Draco." The witch leaned to confide in Harry. "The truth is, my son was always a stiff-shirt with more ambition than brains. Just like his father. I always thought that man had a bowtruckle up his …"

"Nana, how about we treat you to a late dinner? Viktor knows all the best restaurants around."

Harry grinned and held his arm out to Malfoy's grandmother. "How do you like Greek, Phaedra?"

"The food or the men? Actually, both are quite delicious."

Harry looked over in time to see Malfoy roll his eyes. Yes, this promised to be an interesting night indeed.

*****

Harry had never met a vegetarian witch before. Then again, many things about Phaedra Malfoy defied convention. She was what Aunt Petunia would have sneeringly called a "free spirit." And to find it in a Malfoy was astonishing.

"A Renault, dear," she said, tucking into her spanakorizo. "I wasn't born a Malfoy."

"Nana and Grandfather Malfoy were estranged during the first war--"

"Oh, heavens, yes. I've no patience for all that nonsense."

"--but she lived with us after I was born. Grandfather was dead then, I never knew him."

"I never knew mine either," said Harry. A look of shared sympathy passed between them before he turned back to Phaedra. "So you don't believe blood purity is important?"

"For the society pages, perhaps. But in terms of magic, it matters not a whit."

"Why hadn't this woman had more influence on Draco," Harry wondered. She'd given him his love of flying -- her gift for her grandson's fifth birthday was a broom -- as well as the razor-sharp wit that Harry had recently discovered. If Malfoy had been like this at Hogwarts, Harry was sure they'd have been fast friends.

But Phaedra, as it turned out, had only resided in Malfoy Manor until Draco was six. "Too many places to see in this world," she gushed, entertaining Harry with stories of everywhere she'd been. Thankfully she'd never visited Bulgaria, saving him from all kinds of embarrassment. He tried to make up a few details to satisfy her curiosity, but with Malfoy choking down giggles beside him, they might not have been too convincing.

It turned out to be remarkably easy, pretending to be Malfoy's lover. Harry didn't have to fake his affection for the man; that had grown of its own accord over the past weeks. He found himself genuinely interested in what Draco said, and the way he said them -- how his laughter bubbled over like steam from a kettle, and how his face, unmasked, was more alive than anything Harry had ever seen. When, after boldly nicking the last bite of Harry's baklava and getting rapped knuckles in return, Draco flashed the same smile he'd had on the Quidditch pitch, Harry's heart sprang into his throat.

It was still loitering there when Phaedra pulled out a Muggle camera. "I need a snapshot of you boys for my scrapbook. Move in closer…"

"Nana and her cameras," Malfoy sighed. "She doesn't like magic ones." He budged over in the already cramped booth until Harry was pressed against the wall.

"They move too much, there's always too much to see. Now, say 'ice mice'!"

"Really, Nana, you still say that? We're not kids anymore."

"Fine, then pucker up and give me a big one."

"A kiss…?" Harry gulped down the lump in his throat that seemed to be expanding with each passing second.

"A big sloppy one that will make Abraxas spin in his grave."

Draco shrugged. "She always gets her way." But he was looking at Harry bashfully, like he might not mind so much if she did.

Harry realised that he didn't mind either. "More stubborn than you, then?" he teased, but he removed the sting with a hand on Malfoy's chin, guiding their lips together for a chaste kiss.

"Oh, please, you boys can do better than that!"

They could, Harry knew that from experience. He also knew that this was the first time he would really be kissing Draco. The notion made the ground shake. Ignoring the roar in his ears, Harry leaned forward and found Malfoy already there. His lips were warm, sweetened with honey and ouzo, and parted just enough that Harry's slid into perfect alignment. Their tongues met, twisting and wet, with none of the timidity Harry had expected. This kiss was assured, demanding, and Harry shivered. Danger was inherent in demanding anything of Malfoy, especially this. Especially when it was being reciprocated with such fervor.

When he heard the click of the shutter, Harry knew the kiss could end, but he made no move to do so. Draco pulled back first, although his tongue's parting swipe of Harry's lips suggested that it was with reluctance. Harry opened his eyes to see Draco staring at him. He wasn't sure what he expected to see there. Disdain was a possibility, even disgust. But he didn't expect a soft radiance to shine through.

While still looking at those unblinking grey eyes, Harry heard Phaedra curse from what sounded like far away. "Stupid thing didn't flash." After a quick look around, she waved her wand over it. "Let's try that again."

Harry silently thanked the broken camera for sending him back to where he wanted to be. This time he brought his hand up to cup Draco's chin as they fell toward each other. The bristled skin was proof that he was kissing a man, the liquorice-flavoured tongue hungrily devouring his mouth evidence that his desire wasn't one-sided. Harry's fingers slid down Draco's chin, trailing down the pillar of his throat. The skin under his hand was softer than he expected, inviting him to explore more, to discover what other surprises the man's body held.

The camera's click was especially hated this time, its jolt felt all the way down into his tightening trousers. Harry pulled away first this time; Draco's hand lingered on his chest for a second, his lips so close tempting Harry to pull him back for more. But Phaedra's voice broke in, saving him from that embarrassment.

"Well, I guess I should be off. Draco, can you take care of the cheque? I don't have any Muggle money on me."

"I've got it," Harry said, welcoming the opportunity to adjust himself before they stood to leave.

Outside, as they were walking to a private place to Apparate, Draco turned to Harry, laughing. "I can't believe you fell for that line, Harry. Nana's got piles of Galle-"

Malfoy's eyes bulged as he realised his slip. Before he could make a production of it, though, Harry steadied him with a hand on his back. "It was my pleasure, Draco." Malfoy gave him such a warm look of gratitude that Harry blushed as he turned to Phaedra. "Are you sure you have to leave so soon? We'd love for you to stay longer."

"And I'd love to, child, but I promised Paulo I'd model for him and you never know when his muse will strike. Besides, you two need to get back to work. That's quite a job you've got, renovating that old building. I hope you don't spend all your time watching the wireless."

"The wireless?" Harry and Draco asked together.

"Or whatever it is you call it, the thing that plays all the dramas. I've not heard so much yelling since Argentina won the Copa Libertadores."

Harry had no idea what that meant, but he did latch onto one word. "Yelling?"

"Oh, such drama you wouldn't believe. I tried to tune in another program but I must not have done it right."

"What were they yelling about?" Draco asked.

"Well, it was a man and a woman. And she had accused him of cheating on her-- oh, Draco, surely you're not interested in this."

"But I am!"

Harry chimed in. "We've both gotten addicted to the story, I'm afraid. So she said he was cheating?"

"Yes, and he said he wasn't, of course. But she'd found love letters, you see, and receipts for some very expensive gifts. The man insisted he didn't have any idea what she was talking about."

"But she didn't believe him?"

"No, and she was right not to. He eventually confessed--"

"He confessed?"

Harry hadn't noticed his hand still rested on Malfoy's waist, right in the curve where it seemed to think it belonged. But now he felt every muscle in the man's body tense as they awaited Phaedra's next words. Suddenly self-conscious, he dropped his hand.

"Oh yes, he said he slept with a woman he worked with, someone in the orchestra. Oh, Viktor, I see now why you like this show. Anyway, she threatened Scrotacontorta and other interesting hexes -- frankly I was a bit disappointed she didn't follow through, but I guess they don't want to give anyone ideas. Still, if it was me, I'd--"

"What happened then, Nana?"

"She packed a bag and left. That's where he was when you boys arrived; it was getting quite tedious, to be honest, I really don't know why you watch such things. But never mind, as long as you're happy. And you look like you are." She pulled Malfoy close. "You look like you're finally getting what you want, child."

She whispered something that made Draco go tomato red before turning to Harry and squeezing him in an equally tight hug. "Promise you'll take good care of my grandson," she said quietly. "He's never shared his heart easily, but I can tell you have it."

"I will, ma'am." But Harry paid little attention to her words. They'd won! Ginny and Viktor were finished! It was his dream come true!

Phaedra didn't seem to notice his distraction. "And I'll expect to see you both very soon."

"Yes, Nana."

The crack of her Apparation was drowned in the squeal of a braking bus. Muggles laughed from the main street. Harry and Draco just stared at each other for a moment before simultaneously Apparating home.

Harry spelled the Spectrescope and Viktor's flat appeared, looking like a train had crashed through it. His desk had been upended and papers were strewn everywhere; the man paced back and forth through the mess with a half-full bottle of scotch. He tipped it back now and drained the rest. Draco gasped.

"That was a 1926 Macallan! A century-old scotch!"

Harry burst out laughing at Draco's indignation. Draco spared another look at the Spectrescope and grinned back. "We did it, Potter!"

They'd done it! It felt like winning the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup and an Order of Merlin all in one. "Can you believe it? It really worked!" Suddenly his arms were full of Malfoy, an exuberant and giddy Malfoy. Harry's feet left the floor, Draco's grip tight around his chest, their hands clapping, their voices filling the room with laughter.

After a few moments of celebration they broke apart, their unrestrained rejoicing dissolving into nervous smiles. Draco leaned against the back of the sofa and crossed his arms. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I'm …" But Harry was drawing a blank. He honestly hadn't thought that far ahead. Finding Ginny should be the first thing on his agenda, but predicting her actions, those he'd once known so well, now seemed to require a lot of thought. "I … guess I should find her. I don't think she'd go home, though. She wouldn't feel right about it … not so soon."

"So where would she go? Does she have friends here?"

"Friends, I … I really don't know."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. Harry didn't find that as exasperating as he once had. "Potter, you are useless. Think! Did she stay anywhere in London?"

Harry's mind grew more sluggish at Draco's demands. "There was that guesthouse … I wonder if I kept the address …"

"Well what are you waiting for, Potter? Go get your girl!"

"But … right now?" Harry felt like he was standing knee-deep on the ocean's edge, but without warning the currents were dragging the sand out from under his feet. Before long he'd be swept away. It was crazy, this was exactly what he'd wanted. It was what they'd both worked towards for weeks. But now it felt out of his control.

"Of course right now. She's never been more vulnerable; it's the perfect time to strike." Draco's voice was as cold as Harry had ever seen it, the calculations apparent in his shaded eye as much as his words. But then he turned on Harry with that same incisive gaze. "You haven't changed your mind, have you, Potter?"

"Changed my mind? Of course not." This was just unexpected, that's all. He still wanted Ginny, of course he did. Now his life could go back to normal. His quiet, stable, Malfoy-free life. That's what he wanted. What he had wanted, anyway. What he still wanted, just … not when everything was moving so fast.

"Good. Accio guesthouse address." Draco caught the Ministry card as it soared from a pile of discarded paper. "There you go. Now, if you'll excuse me," he said, his voice too thin, like frayed parchment just starting to tear, "I've got some work to do, and I miss my privacy, so I think you should leave now."

Something in Harry rebelled at that. They'd come so very far, he and Malfoy. They were friends now, weren't they, if not even a bit more? Perhaps their goals would not overlap again, but surely they had discovered more in common, hadn't they?

"It's just I thought … I thought we could maybe take a minute to say goodbye."

Malfoy stared with an imperious gaze that would have made Lucius proud, his lips pressed tight. After a moment of silence, Harry scowled. "You have to ruin everything, don't you, Malfoy?"

"Have we said goodbye yet?"

"Yeah, we have."

If Malfoy was intent on them being enemies, who was Harry to argue? With one last angry glare, he disappeared.

*****

The receptionist confirmed that Ginny had booked herself into Lady Kew's Guesthouse. She offered to ring her room, but Harry declined. Malfoy was right: Ginny was at her most vulnerable right now, and that vulnerability was Harry's tether. Once upon a time he would have known exactly what to do, exactly what to say, but "I just happened to be in the neighbourhood, and by the way I've been stalking you for a month" didn't have quite the tone he was going for.

While pacing in the garden, pondering his approach, Harry was interrupted by another wizard's appearance. Light from the guesthouse window illuminated Viktor Krum's distinctive profile as he crashed into a mulberry bush. Harry cast a quick concealment glamour -- not that Krum would have noticed him anyway, not with all the alcohol he'd consumed. He stumbled toward the door, pickled but purposeful, only to be ejected a few moments later by an even more determined porter. "You heard the lady. She doesn't want to see you." Krum struggled a bit, but he didn't stand a chance against the porter's Repelling Spell. "Go home and dry out," the porter sneered. "You want her to see what a lush you are?"

"Ginny!" Viktor was crying -- honest-to-god crying! -- and Harry was glad he was the only witness to the man's fall. Then he recalled that this was something that Malfoy would have wanted to see. His victory was finally won and Krum in despair. The Slytherin would have been delighted.

Harry really hated guilt.

"Come on, Krum," he said, looping the man's arm over his shoulder. Merlin, but he reeked of liquor!

"Who are you?"

"Consider me an expedient taxi."

Krum frowned -- Harry suspected he was struggling with the words -- but at last he seemed to accept this. "All right."

Together they Apparated to Krum's flat. Harry wanted to put the man to bed and then escape, but events quickly spiralled out of control.

"Have a drink with me, Taxi Man."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," protested Harry, sneaking furtive looks at the dark building across the road. "You need to sleep it off."

"No, Taxi Man. Is love. Is not something you can sleep off. Drink!"

A snifter of Henri IV appeared in his hand. Harry's weakness for cognac was born at Ron and Hermione's wedding, but this was much better stuff. Harry debated for half a secondd before deciding that if Krum was determined to decimate his liquor cabinet, who was he to stop him?

That was such a Slytherin thought that Harry stared accusingly at Malfoy's dark window.

"I lost her, Taxi Man," Krum was saying, his tears returning. "She was the light of my life and I lost her. All for one stupid night."

The last thing he wanted to do was offer reassurances to the man who'd stolen Ginny. Then again, he had to do something before Krum succumbed to alcohol poisoning. "There, there," Harry murmured, gently patting the broad back. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

A barrage of enraged curses floated in through the open window.

"What do you expect me to do?" Harry said helplessly. He knew that Malfoy wanted to savour his hard-won victory, watching Krum wallow in the misery that they had wrought. But Harry couldn’t bring himself to let that happen. "I can't just leave him!"

Viktor reasonably assumed the question was directed to him.

"Have another drink then, Taxi Man." Suddenly the snifter was full again. "Tell me, are you in love?"

"Yes," murmured Harry glumly. Having this conversation with Krum was a very bad idea, but the cognac was very, very good.

"How long you been together, Taxi Man?"

"A few weeks …" Harry froze. Why had he said that? Immediately he corrected himself. "I mean, since we were kids. We've always been together." He glared across the street, as if the man watching there were responsible for the slip of his tongue. But that made it worse, thinking of Draco's tongue. Sharp as a dagger it could be, but so delicious covered in honey … Dazed, and not sure where these thoughts came from, Harry stood to go, but Krum grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to the couch.

"I have fucked up, Taxi Man. My woman, she is so beautiful, you know. She make me feel complete. Always something missing inside, until I meet her. And then, it is not missing anymore. Is perfect with her. She make me feel warm, like cognac does, only all the time. Do you know what I am saying, Taxi Man?"

It sounded so like Harry's own definition of love that he was taken aback. "I think so."

"And I did something stupid, I know it. Now she say she doesn't want to hear my apologies. And I don't know what to do. Now I feel -- what is the word? Hallow?"

"Hollow."

Malfoy swore again. Harry sighed. It was going to be a very long night.

*****


On to the conclusion