Sometimes Harry Potter would look over his desk at his partner and wonder how the hell he had gotten stuck with Draco Malfoy, of all people. Then Malfoy would look up at him, give him a glare to end all glares and Harry would look back down at his desk.

This whole process would happen once, sometimes twice a day, depending on not only Harry's mood, but the weather as well. He could tell that it annoyed Malfoy to no end, but he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he spent his days with Malfoy.

Malfoy stood, pulling his cloak from a hook on the wall. "I'm leaving Potter," he said as he pulled it on. "Are you doing anything after this?"

"Why?" Harry was quick to ask. "As many times as Malfoy had saved his arse on missions, as well as he saving Malfoy's, he still didn't entirely trust him. Plus, there was the whole Death Eater thing. He was fairly sure that Malfoy had spent some time in Azkaban. This was purely speculation.

"Because I've promised several people that I'm going to kill you, and I want to be sure that you're free," Malfoy said flatly before rolling his eyes. "I want to get totally pissed, and you appear to need a good pint as much as me. I'm extending a hand of hospitality. Salazar knows why."

Harry slowly stood, his eyes narrowed. "Sure, why not," he said before fetching his own cloak. "Where to?" he asked, still eyeing Malfoy carefully.

"There's a pub around the corner," Malfoy replied as he fastened the clasp of his robes. "It's named after a strange animal head, I think."

Harry nodded slowly, brushing past him. "Come on, then."

Malfoy shrugged and locked up the office.


If Harry had only known that getting totally off his tits with Malfoy was all it took to become his friend, well…he wouldn't have done it any sooner, but he may have thought about it.

Malfoy collapsed onto the bar in a fit of silent giggles as Harry tried no to snort. It didn't work.

"'Snot funny, Mal-Mal-…you. It was hum…humil…hor'ble. It was wet and…wet. Hasn't been much snogging since, 'scept that one time with…with Ginny…but that was an acc…an acci…not on purpose."

Malfoy lifted his head from the bar, his eyes wet from laughter. "That's fantastic! My first kiss was so much better than yours. I forced a Muggle into kissing me at a shop in London once."

"Of course you did," Harry said with another swig of his pint. "How did that work out for you?"

Malfoy crossed his legs and shrugged. "I seemed to enjoy it much more than he did."

"It was a bloke? Your first kiss was with a bloke?"

Malfoy nodded as he polished off his drink. "As well as many afterwards."

Harry pushed his hair back off his forehead, crossing his arms and leaning against the bar. "I didn't know you were…you know…one of them."

"I'm not, just sometimes," Malfoy replied as he pulled a few notes from his pocket, tossing them onto the counter. He stood with a stretch. "It's been an enlightening evening. You think you can make it home alright?"

Harry nodded with a yawn. "Yeah, I'll be fi…good. Thanks for this. Haven't been out much lately, since…since Hon and Rermione left."

Malfoy chuckled and shook his head. "Go home and go to sleep, Potter."

And after a few brief stops to regain balance and to be sick, Potter did.


I'm surprised you made it through the night," Malfoy Draco said as Harry staggered in the next morning, looking more like an Inferi than a person. "Though I must say I'll be surprised if you make it through the day."

"Are you not bloody hung over?" Harry groaned as he very nearly crawled onto his desk. A new sort of hate was brewing in his head.

"I have a high tolerance for alcohol," Draco responded. "It's safe to say you don't."

Harry only groaned in response, using a stack of paperwork as a pillow. A woefully inadequate pillow.

As the day wore on his head finally decided to stop trying to implode after many snaps at Malfoy Draco to stop writing so bloody loud.

"So Potter," he said when Harry had told him it was alright to speak, "what are your plans tonight? I was thinking…"

"No," Harry replied firmly. "I'm not getting pissed with you again tonight. One time a week is plenty for me, thanks."

"So glad you don't have a drinking problem," Malfoy Draco said with an eye roll. "I was going to invite you over for a bit of supper, but if you'd rather drink yourself into a stupor all alone than by all means, do so."

Harry raised one eyebrow in a very Malfoy Manor (he was quite proud of both his ability and his pun), and sighed. "Yeah, alright. Anything's better than leftover takeout."

"You're unusually pathetic," Malfoy Draco said with a slight shake of the head. "You know where the Manor is still, I presume?"

Harry cringed at the memory of destroying the last Horcrux there and nodded, wondering how in rudding hell Malfoy Draco could still stand to live there. "Yeah, I seem to vaguely recall."

"Excellent," Malfoy Draco replied with a nod as he gathered his things. "I'll see you at half-eight."

Harry nodded as Malfoy Draco left, pretending he wasn't watching him do so.


"Ah, come in," Draco said as he stepped aside, leading him back through the dark, cavernous Manor.

"You live in the dark?" Harry asked, his voice echoing hollowly.

Draco's laugh reverberated as he turned toward Harry. "I don't live in that bit," he said as they entered the kitchen. "Just the back bit."

"Makes sense," Harry replied, shrugging off his coat. "It's too big of a house to live in all alone."

"Plus they took all my shit away and I'm not been on refurnishing this entire place," Draco said softly as he returned to the pot of white sauce he had bubbling over the stove, ladling it over some sort of large pasta laid out in a pan bound for the oven. "Could you pass me that cheese, Potter?" he asked, motioning to a board of grated cheese by Harry's elbow.

"Of course," Harry replied, carrying it over to him. "What are you making, exactly?"

Draco laughed as he sprinkled the cheese over it before sliding it into the oven. "Even if I told you, you would neither know what it was nor remember later."

"You know me better than I thought you did," Harry admitted with a chuckle. "It smells fantastic."

Draco leaned against the counter. "It is. Would you like something to drink? I've got beer, wine…"

"You want me drunk again, don't you? I'll start with water, thanks."

"You're no fun," Draco said as he pulled a glass out of the cupboard, opening his icebox and grabbing a handful of ice.

Harry crossed his arms and watched him pour the water, carefully tossing a lock of hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head. His eyes began to trail down his neck when Draco turned around; causing Harry to snap his eyes up to Draco's and smile. "Thanks," Harry said as he took the glass, taking a sip before sitting down at the bar."

"So what's with you?" Draco asked as he poured himself a glad of red wine. "Did you just decide to become a hermit when your mates decided of faff off to Scotland? Doesn't seem too awfully far for a visit."

"I hate to bother them," Harry said, staring down into his water. "They're doing their own thing now and I don't want to be a nuisance."

"Yes, but they are your friends," Draco argued. "Surely they miss you."

Harry muttered something unintelligible, and took another drink of his water. "How long does your mystery pasta have to cook, exactly?"

"Dodging the subject," Draco chided. "Not a good sign at all. It's got a while more, now spill. Do you feel left out of the love fest?"

"Of course not," Harry scoffed. "I just…give me some wine, will you?" As Draco set off to do this, Harry continued. "What makes you a bloody therapist all of a sudden? It's just…it's been Ron and I for so long; no it's Ron and Hermione. I'm supposed to find me a Hermione, and until I do I won't quite fit in with them. I'm not even…thanks," he took the glass from Draco, "Not even sure if I want a Hermione."

Draco nodded with a slight shrug. "I understand, I suppose. I do believe one Granger in this world is quite enough. Now, if you don't mind carrying yourself into the dining room, dinner is ready."

Harry nodded as he snatched up his and Draco's wine glasses just as Draco opened up the oven to extract the pasta.

Draco quickly followed with the plated dishes, dropping one in front of Harry before sitting down with his own.

"Mystery pasta is good," Harry said with a nod. "It's got stuff…err…stuffed in it."

Draco at least had the decency to duck his head to hide his laughter. "Eloquent as ever," he choked out, his shoulders still shaking in silent mirth. Once he had regained control he said, "Spinach and ricotta cheese, if you must know."

"It's good," Harry repeated, a bit defensively. "You don't have to make fun of me. I'm sorry I'm not as skinned in the culinary arts as you."

"Come now Potter, where else am I to get my jollies if I can't poke fun at you?" he asked before taking a bite.

Harry stared at his place for a moment before muttering. "It's called a hobby. Something fun, like knitting or breeding Kneazles, or…other things that are meant to be fun."

"I'll keep that in mind," Draco said in that infuriating amused tone of his.

A long moment passed of comfortable silence, the only sound between them the gently click of flatware on plates. Harry slyly watched Draco's hand abandon his fork in favour of his glass and he, as much as he hated to, watched his nimble fingers wrap around it to bring it up to waiting lips. It was only when Harry caught himself staring rather pointedly at said lips did he look away, trying his best to fight the blush threatening to rise up his neck.

He quickly stuffed a bite into his mouth, chewing carefully. Of course, Draco chose that time to ask him a question. "What did you think when you found out you'd been partnered with me?"

Harry struggled to swallow. "I…well…obscenities mostly. I figured that I'd be dead by now." Draco snorted, but didn't say anything. "Why? What did you think?"

Draco carefully lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Honestly? That I'd been given a second chance. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced of that fact. If anyone were to be the partner of a Death Eater, it would be Harry Potter."

"So you were," Harry said, his tone cold. "A Death Eater."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Draco responded with the bloody infuriating smirk. "I'm surprised you haven't found an excuse to look at my arm yet, actually. I'll let you see, you only have to ask."

The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't find it in himself to ask. Finally he shook his head minutely. Draco shrugged and returned to his meal.

A new question rose in Harry's mind, and this one he asked. "A second chance for what? Redemption?"

Draco raised his eyes and held Harry's gaze for so long that the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. Harry was just about to avert his gaze when Draco lowered his to his glass. "No," he said in a tone that Harry could tell was forced.

"Then what?" he pressed, not even sure if he wanted to know the answer.

He waited for Draco to finish his drink, his hands folded awkwardly in his lap. His gaze was back again, heavy and full of a question that he couldn't decipher. Finally Draco shrugged and said, "You."

Harry forgot to breathe for half of a second. Then another half. What…what did he…?

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but another voice sounded.

"Draco, love, are you here?"

"In the dining room," Draco called, picking his fork back up.

Harry looked up to the door as a woman who looked vaguely familiar came into the room. He watched as Draco stood, dropping a kiss to her temple. "There's some food left in the kitchen, if you're interested. Potter and I were just discussing my career choice."

Harry snapped his mouth shut as both sets of their eyes fell on him. "Yes, well…"

"It's nice to see you again, Harry," the woman said with a smile so genuine it hurt. "Draco's always talking about you. You probably don't remember me, but I was in Ravenclaw."

"Mandy," Harry replied breathlessly. "Mandy Brocklehurst. I remember you."

She smiled again before returning her attention back to Draco. "If you don't mind I'll definitely grab a plate. I'm starved."

"Don't mind at all," Draco said, his eyes bright as she dropped a kiss onto his lips.

Harry forgot to breathe again.