Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any part of his magical world, as that all sprang from the extensively imaginative mind of J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1

Draco spun about on the spot, dropping an entire pile of brightly colored t-shirts he had just folded.

"Shit," he swore loudly, seeing the utter mess he had created. The t-shirts had all come undone, requiring him to refold all of them. By hand. Without magic. He hated working in this stupid Muggle shop. Customers turned to stare, most just shooting him dirty looks and shooing their children away from the odd shop worker.

"Something wrong, Draco?" inquired Draco's prissy Muggle boss, Mila, who had snuck up on him after his outburst, as she usually did when in an unpleasant mood. "You know, I quite like you because all the female customers are attracted to you and can sell anything with that drawling charm of yours, but you're hardly up to snuff with the other workers. I mean, they can actually keep the clothes off the goddamn floor." She hissed the last phrase menacingly, and Draco knelt to scoop up the ruined pile. He plopped it on the table and began refolding the shirts. Draco never bothered to give Mila the time of day, knowing she would never fire him because of her attraction to him. He snorted internally at the thought, because he thought it was quite clear he was gay. No wonder all the female customers found him handsome, he actually had a fashion sense.

He paused his train of thought, thinking of what exactly had startled him and caused the shirts to go from his arms to the concrete floor of "Mila's Finest." He had sworn that he was being stared at for what seemed to be the fifth or sixth time in a week. Although Draco was used to being stared at for his lean body, his shockingly blonde hair, and his handsome face, he had a feeling this stare came from someone magical. Magical, and possibly threatening. Draco had left the wizarding world after the finale of the war, fleeing all traces of magic in the hope that he could find some good inside himself after the evil that had been imposed on him had suppressed his light. After six years, Draco didn't really care. His horrible actions were behind him, and now he just focused on selling Muggle clothes and a warm glass of firewhiskey every night. He was done with magic.

As he left the shop at eight that night, Draco again slipped into his thoughts, not bothering to watch where he was going as he headed home. Most Muggles just stepped aside for him, realizing he wasn't really there. He walked the twenty blocks from the shop every evening except for during the winter, when even his finest cloak-given to him as a Christmas present from his father in his sixteenth year-wouldn't keep the cold wind from biting him through. Tonight, though, was a fine summer's evening, and the sun was just setting as he stepped up to his apartment door.

Jamming the key into the lock, Draco felt a twinge at his neck again. He wanted to turn around, or run, but he knew that whomever was following him would come to him on their terms, especially since he no longer owned a wand or did any magic. Even if he wanted to run, he couldn't. He brushed off the prickle at his neck, trying his hardest to fool himself into believing he was just going mad, and entered his flat.

Draco shucked off his summer coat and benignly tossed it onto a hook, looking at himself in the mirror as he did so. Smoothing his blonde hair back into place, he went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of firewhiskey. On a whim, he poured a second glass, took it with him to the living room, set it on the table, and waited.

Not ten minutes later, there was a small knock at his door, and, knowing that whomever had been watching him for the past week could enter without his permission anyway, lazily drawled, "Come in."

The door opened slightly, then, as if the person had needed to muster up the courage to fully enter his home, opened all the way more purposefully. Harry Potter strode into the room, shut the door behind him, put his cloak on one of the hooks, and unceremoniously dropped into the chair next to Draco. His legs spread naturally, and Draco appreciatively noticed that Harry was wearing hip hugging charcoal grey jeans, dragon skin boots, and a bottle green button-down shirt that looked as if it had been dipped in smooth ink. Turning his eyes from Harry's body and up to the striking green eyes, Draco, murmured, " I hoped it would be you and not one of the others."

Harry looked confusedly at Draco. "What, you think I've come to haul you off to Azkaban? You're more of a self-righteous git than I thought, Malfoy. I'm just here to talk. Plus, I'm not an Auror, if you must know." His eyes told Draco that everything he had said thus far was the truth, and Draco sighed.

"Fine. Why have you been following me for the past few days?" Draco implored, willing to play whatever game Harry was up to.

"Well, I honestly just wanted to see what you were up to." Harry took a gulp of firewhiskey, and Draco smirked ruefully at his presumptuous attitude. Harry obviously still thought very highly of himself, if he just waltzed into people's homes and drank their alcohol without asking. "Plus," Harry continued, snapping Draco back to attention, "I needed to return this to it's rightful owner. I've had it since I took it from you six years ago, and it obviously does me no good." Harry gently placed a wand box on the glass coffee table. Draco knew what it held, and shoved it back towards Harry.

"I don't want it." Draco said sharply.

Harry looked dumbstruck. He couldn't believe Draco was denying the hawthorn wand that had served him since he was eleven. It was not a typical action for a wizard, wands were extremely important because of their bond with the wizard they chose.

"Why not?" Harry exclaimed. "I haven't seen you use magic in the past week that I've been following you. I know you haven't got a new wand, and as far as I know you were never that good at wandless spells. Although, I guess you could have learned, seeing as you didn't have a wand..." Harry trailed off into thought, muttering to himself about difficult magic.

"No." Draco cut him off. "I don't use magic any more." Harry's mouth opened, and shut quickly, knowing his surprise would be assumed rude by Draco.

"Oh. Well. I still can't keep it, now that I've given it back to you. It won't work for me after I've done that, and I obviously have my own rather fabulous wand."

Draco snorted. He couldn't believe Harry had just used the word fabulous to describe his wand, of all things. "So flamboyant, Potter. I'm surprised at your language."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "What, didn't know I'd broken up with Ginny and renounced my straight life?" Draco's mouth was the one to fall open this time, and he didn't bother to pick his chin up off the floor. Harry laughed at Draco's expression. "Whatever, Draco. You really didn't know? Really? How can you not? It was all over the press three years ago."

"You really think I bother with the wizarding press when I won't even do magic?" said Draco, finally coming to his senses. "No, I didn't know. You always seemed straight. But that's neither here nor there, seeing as I'm rather into males myself."

Harry laughed. "Obviously," he stated. "Everyone at Hogwarts knew that once Pansy Parkinson went about after you refused to kiss her and told people you were dating Blaise Zabini."

Draco's grey eyes flashed at the drugging up of old memories, and he was livid at the thought of Pansy and her childish ways. "Whatever. You've returned the wand I don't want, told me about your new found love of boys, and brought up one of the most embarrassing moments of my time at Hogwarts, although all six years there rather sucked. Now, if you would kindly leave. Or, rather, fuck off." Draco coldly stared at Harry, waiting for him to leave.

Harry got up as if to leave without saying a word. He turned towards the door, then suddenly spun about and walked straight up to Draco. He towered over him, and Draco couldn't help but let his eyes stray to Harry's crotch. Harry leaned over him, putting his arms on either side of Draco's body. His knees touched against Draco's, and his face came within an inch of Draco's face, which had an immeasurable expression on it. "No," Harry said definitively. He leaned even closer, as if to kiss Draco's lips, which had slightly parted in surprise and arousal. He wrenched himself away, standing up abruptly, and walked out of Draco's apartment sharply.

Draco had no idea what the fuck had just happened, but he knew he would be seeing more of that lovely arse that had just walked away soon if he had anything to do with it.