Author's Notes: For the slythindor100 advent challenge. Contains infidelity (more emotional than physical).


They meet in public, always.

They both claim it's easier that way – that it's simpler to hide what their intentions are – but the truth is that being under the constant scrutiny of hundreds of passers-by is the only way they can really be certain that things won't get out of hand.

Of course, it always has to be deep in the distinctively Muggle parts of London. There's 'public', and then there's asking to be caught, and neither of them can afford the latter. Luckily, even though the soppy part of Harry looks out over the glow of it and decides it has its own kind of magic, an innocuous place like an outdoor skating rink isn't actually the likeliest of locations to run into other witches and wizards. The chances they'll see anyone who could recognise them are tiny, even as famous as Harry still is. In exchange for that reassurance, Draco will just have to force himself to get over how standing among a crowd of Muggles as if they actually belong there offends his delicate pureblood sensibilities.

It's clear from the moment he eyes the rented skates derisively that Draco's never deigned to try ice skating before. Why would he, when the only reason he's doing so now is for Harry? However, he ends up taking to it much quicker than Harry, whose agility has always been a lot more impressive in the air on a broomstick than on the ground.

Harry stumbles about like an idiot at first. That's all right, though, for he doesn't even have to actively reach out to grab onto Draco to stop himself from falling; Draco's already anticipated his needs, insinuating a steadying hand under Harry's elbow, holding him up. Even though their multiple layers of clothing, Harry is almost certain he can still feel a hint of the warmth of Draco's palm.

The ice below him feels far too precarious for comfort, but in that moment Harry feels entirely secure nonetheless.

Even once Harry gets into the rhythm of it and grows confident enough to sweep along the ice on his own, his body remains right up in close proximity to Draco's. Their hips brush occasionally as they circle the rink, and Draco's fingertips wander, coming to rest low on Harry's back. Harry's cheeks feel heated despite the chill of the air around them.

When they finally grow tired (only of skating, not of each other – never that), Harry draws out their parting, not wanting to let Draco leave him so early in the evening. Or at all, for that matter. But they each have their commitments. They're only too aware of that.

Standing off to the side of the rink, their fingers linger against each other – the sight of their hands clasped together shielded from any outsiders by the closeness of their bodies – while they each whisper what they would do to each other, if only they could... if only they were free to throw caution to the wind and do precisely as they liked.

When the time to leave arrives (far too swiftly), they don't kiss goodbye, because how could they bring themselves to stop at just kissing?

They don't even make any departing promises to see each other again.

But as they both duck away to find safe places to Apparate, and then return to their respective wives and children and separate lives, each of them carries a bone-deep understanding that this will happen again.

And again.

~FIN~