Disclaimer: You know I don't own any of this.

Words: Just over 10,000 (including both "chapters")

Rating: M - This is mainly for language, but there is also an adult scene. I never write anything explicit, however.

The people of the Wizarding World rejoiced for nearly a month when their prized Golden Boy finally defeated the Darkest Wizard that had ever existed. Even amidst the mass funerals for all those that had been lost – for even some Death Eaters had had family that loved them – there was happiness. Tears were shed, yes, but these were far outweighed by the laughter that sounded. Celebration after celebration was held in which Harry Potter – the Golden Boy – was the man of the hour. Toasts were given in his honor and hundreds of people gave personal speeches on just how proud of him and how thankful they were.

However, through it all, Harry Potter usually sat stoic and silent. Harry Potter, for all the happiness he had brought, was not happy himself. He had lost many people during the war. The last deaths of the war had really wounded him. The loss of Lupin – the last of his parent's friends – had broken something inside of him. It was something that neither Hermione nor Ron was able to help him through. This was a mourning in which he must suffer alone, and so he did.

The gathering up of rogue Death Eaters took months. And then there were the cases of Death Eaters that had turned against Voldemort before the final end. Of those people the Malfoy's were to be accounted. This group of people's trials was placed on the back burner in favor of trying the Death Eaters who, even after their Dark Lord's fall, still proclaimed their undying allegiance to him and his beliefs.

Harry Potter, working under Kingsley Shacklebolt as a full-fledged Auror, helped round up these fanatics, subdue them, and cast them in front of the Wizengamot. One by one, Harry watched as these people were sent to their rightful place: Azkaban, which, while not as dreadful as it once had been when the Dementors had swept through the halls, was still a place in which no wizard would wish to go.

Through all the chaos of the mini-war after the war, Harry found himself partnered up with the strangest of partners none of which had worked out. He was currently without partner and glad for it. Of course, he knew it wouldn't last long. But, even so, he wouldn't have expected what eventually happened.

One morning, while filling out paperwork, eighteen months after Voldemort had finally fallen, a knock sounded on his office door. Harry, without looking up, called, "Come in."

The sound of the doorknob turning echoed in the silence of the room, and then Harry could hear the bottom of the door dragging along the carpet. He finished up this particular form by signing his name at the bottom. He still didn't look up at whoever had come in as he placed the completed form in one pile, and took an incomplete one out of another pile. He set to work on this one. If one didn't know better, one would think that perhaps Harry had forgotten he'd told someone to come in at all. Indeed, this was probably exactly the case.

The person standing just within the door arched a fine, platinum blond brow. The Golden Boy was – what – going to ignore him? Or had the man, who was still obviously lacking in brain power, completely forgetful of the fact that he had just told someone to come in a mere minute ago? As if it wasn't bad enough all ready that he had to be here, now he was being ignored. Starting to feel himself getting irritated, he raised a closed fist to the door and knocked again.

"Yeah," Potter said, still not looking up, "I said 'come in'."

He rolled his eyes and drawled in that signature haughty voice of his, "I'm all ready in here, Potter. I was just reminding you of my presence." Then Potter's head whipped up – oh yes it did, and before he could even blink, Potter was standing and he had his wand aimed directly at him. His eyes narrowed, "I'm not here to hurt you, Potter. I'm here because we have an appointment."

"You and I don't have an appointment," Potter hissed in response, "So what are you really doing here, Malfoy?"

"I never did think you one for intelligence, Potter, but even I would think you would remember you were to be assigned a new partner today," Malfoy drawled, still looking at Harry with narrowed brows. He didn't show the slightest bit of fear in response to that wand Potter had pointed at him, however. At some point within the last half of a year Draco had lost his desire to be much afraid of anything. It was the major reason that he was now standing here in front of Harry Potter, getting ready to work with him, when he most certainly would never have considered this sort of partnership before.

Harry slightly lowered his wand, his brows knitted together. This couldn't be possible. Draco Malfoy his new partner? Just what was Kingsley on about? Was he insane? He wouldn't be having this. He absolutely would not be having this. He started forward, and was just about to push by Malfoy when the annoyance spoke, "It's no use. I've already tried to talk them out of it – they insist we work together."

"Well I won't be having it," he repeated his thoughts aloud, "Hell will freeze before I work with your pompous ass," Harry growled.

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know what to tell you, Potter except this isn't exactly my idea of a great arrangement – much less day – either."

Harry stopped, turned, and frowned deeply at Malfoy, "I'm not working with you," he then walked back to his desk where he sat down, picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and began to write once more.

Draco stared resolutely at Potter, "Well, think what you will, Potter, but I've already tried to get out of this, and I'm as much stuck with you as you are with me. So get used to it." With that being said Draco moved further into what had been Potter's office, but now was both of theirs. The empty desk sitting across from Potter's was Draco's new station, and he moved to sit behind it. He started opening and closing drawers, looking through each of them, but they were all, predictably, empty. No sooner had he thought this then suddenly things just started appearing on his desktop with small 'pops'. One of the things that appeared was a small sign that had his name engraved into it in silver lettering. He looked across at Potter's desk to Potter's own name plaque - written in gold lettering. Of course, thought Draco as he scowled to himself. Picking up his sign, he tossed it the few feet that parted his and Potter's desk, watching with satisfaction as it thumped down right on top of the paper Potter was writing on, making his quill jerk harshly.

"What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?" Potter roared as he jumped out of his seat and grabbed the sign.

Draco leaned back in his seat, placing his hands on the back of his head as he grinned smugly, "Just showing you proof that we're stuck together is all, Potter."

Harry continued to glare at Malfoy for a full minute before he finally looked down at the object he was holding in his hand. Sure enough, there was Malfoy's name written upon it. Harry felt his brows narrow. What a day he was having. First, he was refused the option of going out into the field because he was so far behind in paperwork, then he was told he was getting a new partner – as though any of the others had worked out – and now he found out this partner was Malfoy of all people. He was most certainly going to have to speak to Kingsley about this later, regardless of what Malfoy said. Harry moved around his desk, walked over to Malfoy's, and slammed the plaque back down. He glared at Malfoy and his smug, pompous fucking smile, and then moved back to his desk yet again.

"Don't fucking disturb me again," he bit before sitting down, picking up his quill, and continuing his work.

Eventually, Harry did go to have his talk with Kingsley. Harry damn near had an apoplectic fit when Kingsley refused to dismiss Malfoy, and insisted on his teaming up and getting along with Malfoy. How the hell Kingsley expected for he and Malfoy to get along Harry had no clue. They hadn't gotten along at Hogwarts, and Malfoy's last few efforts to turn him over to Voldemort the night of the big battle at said school had done nothing for his and Malfoy's relationship.

Harry had finally left Kingsley's office in a complete rage, but resigned to do what Kingsley said, regardless. Harry had stomped back to his office, opened, and then slammed the door behind him. He'd then paced the room in a vicious circle; completely ignorant of the fact that Malfoy was sitting at his own desk, watching Harry go round and round and round.

"You trying to make yourself dizzy, Potter?"

Harry's head snapped up in the direction of Malfoy, and he thought to himself that if he kept whipping his neck around like that, he was bound to break it eventually. He glared at Malfoy with as much hatred he could muster – quite a bit, actually – and growled sarcastically, "Yes, Malfoy. I'm trying to make myself dizzy."

Malfoy looked at him, his grey eyes absolutely penetrating Harry's own vivid green, before he grinned, "Yes, well, just don't throw up all over the place. This is my office now too, remember."

Harry's eyes scanned the grin on Malfoy's face and felt his blood heat up; "I'll only throw up in your trashcan if I have to."

Malfoy chuckled, but didn't respond; instead he looked down at a book that was open before him.

Harry's blood boiled.

When they finally got around to getting on the field, Harry and Draco made an excellent team. It wasn't long before they were the best Auror team. Individually, they were both great. The one time that Draco had to go out alone, without Potter backing him up, he had proven that he was just as capable of taking care of himself as Potter was. And everyone had already known that Harry was great. So, together, they were more than great. The number of rogue Death Eaters quickly dwindled, the majority hunted out and caught by Harry and Draco, and when there were just no Death Eaters left, they moved on to catching minor dark wizards and witches, thieves, and other law-breakers.

The only bad thing that could be said about the team Harry-Draco, was that they argued. A lot. It was not uncommon for other Auror's to show up to work, move to their offices or cubicles, and then cast silencing charms around their work area. Because, odds were, the floor was already filled with the sound of Harry and Draco bellowing at one another, objects shattering as they threw them, and other loud slamming and banging noises as hexes were cast that always missed or bounced off a protective shield.

No matter their faults, the Auror's lived with it, as did Kingsley. Harry and Draco really were the best team the department had ever seen.

It had been three months when the first break in their arguing happened – other than for when they were out on the field. When they were hunting a criminal they never argued, it was strange that way. But neither man had ever stopped to wonder why. After this day's event, however, they would reconsider their previous actions.

"They're starting the Family Trials now," Malfoy said one afternoon. They had just come back from hauling in a rather sick wizard that had a taste for redheaded witches. Harry and Draco had caught up with the twisted individual right outside Ginny's apartment. The attacker had fallen for the bait that Ginny had been. Harry was sometimes sad that it hadn't worked out between him and Ron's sister. But one never did choose whom they fell in love with, and she had fallen, and fallen hard, for, of all people, Blaise Zabini.

Harry hadn't held it against her. If truth was told, the fire between him and Ginny hadn't been nearly as brilliant as he had, at one time, thought it was. She was beautiful and full of fire, but Harry just hadn't truly loved her. Besides, Harry had come to the conclusion that he wasn't meant to have a relationship in that way anyway. He was only nineteen, on the verge of twenty, but it just seemed feasible that this was the way his life was always going to be: alone.

Harry looked at Malfoy, "What's your point?"

Malfoy sat at his desk, and Harry did the same. For a long time, Malfoy never answered, and so Harry went about filling out paperwork – he didn't want to get so far behind again that he was left doing just paperwork for three days. Finally, an answer, "My family will be on trial."

Harry stopped writing and looked up at Malfoy. The man was staring intently at his desk. He had his own paperwork to file, but he hadn't so much as even dipped his quill yet by the looks of it. Harry didn't know why suddenly Malfoy was trying to start a conversation with him, but Harry wasn't completely heartless, and so he said, "I'm sure everything will work out fine. After all, you've proven yourself around here, hm?"

Malfoy looked up from his desk and stared into Harry's eyes. Now, whenever Malfoy did this, Harry felt a bit perturbed. For several things happened: he got angry that Malfoy felt he had the right to meet Harry's eyes after all the damage he had incurred onto Harry, Harry's loved ones, and every other person Malfoy had ever crossed paths with that he considered beneath him; his heartbeat accelerated by a hundred and he suddenly couldn't pull in a proper breath; he noticed how very much like liquid silver Draco's eyes were; he started to think of Malfoy as Draco.

Harry blinked himself out of his thoughts. He really hoped Malfoy didn't notice how he'd just been staring at him, but Malfoy usually never missed anything, and with the way he was grinning, Harry had a feeling he had noticed. Harry felt his cheeks suffuse with red, and he cleared his throat rather loudly before saying, "At least you know you won't be going to Azkaban."

Malfoy had the kindness – Malfoy, kindness? What? – to not say anything about Harry's ogling, and instead replied, "I wouldn't be surprised if I did end up there."

Harry shook his head, "No. There's no way. You're the second best Auror in this department, Malfoy. They wouldn't want to lock someone up who was nearly as good as I am at catching the bad guys."

Malfoy was grinning again, "Second best? Nearly as good, Potter? I think I'm better."

Harry scoffed and looked back down to his paperwork when Malfoy picked up his own quill and began writing.

An Auror passing through the hall in the Auror Department suddenly stopped. She looked around, curiously. Something was amiss. Something was very amiss. She continued looking around completely bewildered for a moment longer before realizing that there was nothing amiss at all. The department was just silent. She looked in the direction of Harry and Draco's office. Now, either they had cast a silencing charm, or they weren't arguing. This last piece of information just did not register in her mind, and so she chalked it up to them having cast their own silencing charms for once, before moving on with her work.

Draco finished up his work, set it aside, and then took up his usual hobby: staring at Harry Potter. The man was still filling out his paperwork. Draco was convinced now that Potter was always slow in doing this tedious task. You would think, with how slow he moved, that his paperwork was a form of art, but it was always sloppily written and messily worded. Draco, on the other hand, finished in quarter of the time it took Potter, and his work was meticulous. So, while Harry worked, Draco watched.

He didn't think that Potter ever noticed his staring. He had been doing it for weeks now, and Potter never looked up at him. Draco's eyes moved over the black, forever messy hair atop Potter's head, and then traveled over his shoulders, down his arms, to watch his hand move across the paper, the long fingers that grasped the quill. Draco swallowed. The first time he had noticed how long Potter's fingers were, Draco had been beyond angry. He didn't have the slightest care to feel anything toward Potter, and the fact that he did made him livid.

At some point, however, he had come to terms with the fact that he was infatuated with Harry Potter. Now, he wouldn't admit it to anyone, of course. His father would kill him if Potter didn't first, and Draco, as a Syltherin, had a natural self-preservation quirk to his personality. Potter reached up with his free hand, drug it back through his hair, and Draco's breath caught in his throat. His tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip. He wondered if Potter's hair felt the way it looked: like black silk.

The flash of green light rushed by within an inch of Draco's head, and it was at that moment that Harry realized he was in love with his old rival. Harry had never used the Killing Curse, but after he watched Draco barely dodge the spell – and he wouldn't have at all if Harry hadn't grabbed him by the arm and yanked him behind himself – Harry was overcome by a rage he had never before felt. Throughout all the battles he had ever been in, even against Voldemort himself, after all the destruction that evil wizard had caused, Harry had not been as angry as he was at this moment. He was barely thinking other than for his need, his desire, his want to kill the person that had attacked Draco as he raised his wand, "Avada Kedavra!"

The spell blasted out of the end of Harry's Holly and Phoenix with enough force to make him take a step backwards. It blazed across the space separating him from Draco's attempted murderer, and then hit the accursed man right in the center of his chest. Harry watched with hardened, cold eyes, as the man was blown right off his feet, twisting in the air before he slammed down on the ground dead as a doornail. Harry pulled in a shuddering breath; his entire body was shaking with his fury.

And then he felt a hand on his arm that calmed him down immediately, and when he looked over, Draco was staring at Harry, a look of concern in his eyes, "Potter? Can you hear me?"

Harry blinked, and still not thinking, lifted a hand to brush a strand of Draco's hair out of his face.

Draco froze in place, his grey eyes piercing straight into Harry's soul, just like it did every time Draco looked at him, and Harry could feel butterflies in his stomach, and his heart was racing, and when had their relationship come to this?

Draco's words finally registered, and Harry forced himself to be calm and collected, "Your voice is like a buzzing in my head. I often tune you out. Now, what did you say?"

Draco's eyes narrowed at him, "Funny, Potter, but, unfortunately for you, I can see right through you."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Whatever, Malfoy," and he started to walk away from him, but Draco still had his hand on Harry's arm, and he tightened it. Harry stopped and looked back at him, "What?"

"You-I-Did-"

Harry lifted a brow, "What's wrong, Malfoy? That near-death experience just now force you to lose all ability to speak?"

Draco frowned, "That didn't make sense, Potter, but listen to me. I wanted to say…I wanted to say that…"

Harry smiled, "Draco? Are you trying to tell me 'thank you'?"

Silence, and then Draco tilted his head to the side, smiled, and said, "Potter, did you just call me 'Draco'?"

Harry looked at him long and hard. He realized that he could still feel the slight sensation of Draco's hair against his fingers, still feel the tingling sensation touching him had caused to his hand, and not to mention the jolts of electricity shooting up his arm where Draco's hand was still wrapped around it. Harry reached up, placed his hand over Draco's and removed it from his arm, "Let's go," he replied, "We have to get back to headquarters."

After that incident, Harry and Draco never argued again. They had little tussles every now and then, but they were never loud, nor physical, nor over anything incredibly serious. The Auror's in the department found themselves not having to cast silencing charms anymore and Team Harry-Draco got even better than it had before.

In their newfound partnership that was finally accepted, the time passed quickly. It was a very important day when Draco received his summons to stand in front of the Wizengamot along with his mother, Narcissa, and his father, Lucius. Draco had shoved the letter in the drawer of his desk, and pretended that he wasn't worried, when he absolutely was.

Draco did not want to go to Azkaban. And it was no longer because he just didn't want to be stuck in the same room for the rest of his life. Draco did not want to go to Azkaban because going to Azkaban meant never seeing Harry again. Draco did not know how Harry felt for him – though he had an idea, what with the way Harry had gently stroked his hair out of his face after he'd killed Draco's attacker – but Draco knew that he loved Harry. His crush on the other man had moved beyond that in the little over six months they had worked together. Tonight, before tomorrow afternoon's trial, and then probable chance of being sent away for the rest of his life, Draco planned on telling Harry the extent of his feelings for him.

Today was May 2nd, and, as such, was the anniversary of the Dark Lords death. There was to be a ball later tonight. Harry was, of course, the guest of honor. Draco would be there too, just so he could keep his eye on him, and then think of some reason for him to drag Harry off. Draco already figured that he would probably have to think up some sort of lie, and he had plans formulating in his mind already.

"I want to thank you all for being here tonight. It's been two years, today, since I defeated Voldemort. As I said two years ago, and as I will say again tonight, I did not do it alone. If it were not for my friends Ron and Hermione, my Potions Professor Severus Snape, my mentor Albus Dumbledore, all the members of the Order of the Phoenix, and countless, countless others, I would never have managed to deal the finishing blow. Please, enjoy yourselves this evening, and the peace this world has been given. May it never again see darkness the likes of that which Voldemort cast it into."

A cacophonous round of applause, whistles, and hoots and hollers sounded as Harry made his way off stage after his small speech. He hadn't wanted to give one at all, but the Minister had pressed him for something, and so Harry had given something – as though he hadn't given enough. Harry sighed to himself mentally while on the outside he put on a brilliant smile and shook the hand of some wizarding politician that he would not remember the name of five minutes from now. Harry thought to himself that he should not be so cold against the wizarding world, but sometimes it really did seem as though they just kept asking and asking and wanting and wanting more and more and more from him. Would it never be enough?

As if in a daze Harry let the Minister lead him around the party and introduce him to one person after the next. Harry shook so many hands that his hand felt filthy and numb by the time he finally managed to break away from the Minister for a bathroom break. He left the atrium of the ministry in which the celebration was being held, and headed toward the closest men's room. This involved stepping into an elevator. Just before the doors could close, he saw Malfoy making a beeline for the elevator. Harry stuck out his hand to halt the door from closing, and waited until Malfoy had slipped in before allowing them to shut. As the elevator began to move down, he looked at Malfoy, "You have to piss too?"

Malfoy looked over at Harry, opened his mouth, closed it, and then simply nodded.

Harry felt his brow rise at Malfoy's peculiar behavior, "What? Cat got your tongue?"

Malfoy shook his head, and then seeming to realize this would only further prove Harry's question, said, "No. I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh? Was there a development in the Finnigan case?" Harry asked. Seamus Finnigan had gone missing more than a week ago, and Harry and Draco had been put on the case because it looked to be the work of dark wizards.

Malfoy shook his head and Harry felt disappointed. He really wanted to solve this case. Seamus had been a friend of his at Hogwarts, and Harry felt that he owed his friend a thorough investigation.

"Well, then what do you want to talk about?"

"I have to go stand in front of the Wizengamot tomorrow. I got my papers today," Malfoy finally supplied.

The elevator stopped then, and Harry stepped out, Malfoy following him. Instead of heading to the bathroom – he hadn't needed to go anyway, he headed toward their office since Harry had absentmindedly chosen the Auror department. Harry frowned, "Why are you mentioning this?"

"You knew it would be coming before long. I'm surprised it hadn't come sooner. I honestly think it was only because I was wrapped up in several cases with you, and the ministry didn't want to disturb our work," Malfoy answered.

"We're wrapped up in a case right now," Harry replied.

Malfoy shrugged, "Yes, well, I suppose they figure that you can handle a missing-person's case on your own."

Harry opened the door to their office and went inside. He heard Malfoy close the door, and Harry turned to look at him, "So you're telling me about the appointment tomorrow because…"

Malfoy blinked, "Well, why do you think, Potter? I very well might be off to Azkaban by this time tomorrow night."

Harry shook his head, "There's no way. I already told you-"

"Yes," Malfoy interrupted, "I know what you already said, but that doesn't mean the Wizengamot will see it that way. I helped plan the murder of Albus Dumbledore, Potter. Not to mention all the others that got harmed…or killed…because of my idiotic actions."

Harry frowned and moved to lean against his desk. He sighed, "I'll speak for you."

Malfoy's eyes widened, "What?"

Harry shrugged, "I'll speak for you. I'll go with you to the Wizengamot tomorrow, and I'll tell them that you're just not the person you were two years ago, and that you don't deserve Azkaban. Besides, even I was smart enough to figure out that you only did what you did in sixth year because of Voldemort holding your family over your head. I had wondered if our situations were reversed if I would have done the same thing."

Malfoy let out a disbelieving laugh, "Saint Potter plot to kill Albus Dumbledore? I think not."

"If our situations had been reversed, Malfoy, you would be the Saint, not I," Harry spoke softly.

Malfoy met his eyes then, those blazing, liquid-silver eyes, and Harry quickly looked away as Malfoy replied, "I never apologized, Harry."

Harry shook his head and forced himself to meet those eyes, no matter that his heart rate immediately accelerated, and his breathing became short and labored, "Yes, and you never have to."

"Why?"

"Because I already know you are."

"How do you know?"

"Because I…"

"Because you…?"

Malfoy was slowly closing the distance that separated them, and Harry swallowed nervously. Suddenly, this situation was very serious, and not for the reasons he would have expected.

"Because you…?" Malfoy prompted again as he stopped right in front of Harry, his eyes blazing into Harry's.

"Because I know you, Malfoy. You don't work with someone for six months as close and as well as we have without getting to know your partner," Harry finally answered.

Malfoy's tongue moved out from between his lips, he licked them slowly, and Harry felt a stirring in his loins. He had to bite back a moan. Yes, this situation had become very serious now. Malfoy reached up and his hand gently dusted at Harry's shoulder, as though he were brushing something away, "If you know me so well, Harry, then tell me why I really wanted to talk to you tonight, preferably when we were alone."

Harry moved his eyes to the hand now resting on his shoulder, and then looked back to Draco. Yes, 'Draco'. He swallowed again. What in the world was happening here? All right, so, yes, he was in love with Draco, but that didn't mean he would give into this feeling. But…but with the way Draco was staring at him right now, his eyes full of…of…of lust and need and want and desire and…and something else that Harry recognized because he knew he was looking at Draco in the same way, it was just too hard not to.

Harry's hand came up to pull the hand on his shoulder away, but then he only wrapped his own hand around it. His other hand came up to slide behind Draco's back, and with a gentle tug, the two men were standing flush together. Harry's heartbeat immediately skyrocketed to a new speed it had never managed before. As their lower half connected, heat and hardness against heat and hardness, Draco gave a small hiss of pleasure, and Harry smiled.

"You came to tell me that you want me, of course, and that's not really something you can say in front of a crowd of hundreds of people," Harry finally answered, not daring to say what he really wanted to say: you came here tonight to tell me that you love me, because Harry couldn't make himself believe it, couldn't hope for so much when love had always been denied to him before this moment. Well, love that wasn't familial, anyway.

Draco flushed, and when he spoke, his voice was strained with his emotion, "Yes," he whispered, "Yes, I want you, Harry."

"I know," Harry whispered, and then he leaned forward, brushing his lips gently across Draco's. The other man's eyes fluttered to a close, but Harry kept his own open, watching as Draco flushed further. When he stuck out his tongue and ran it along lips that were silky soft, Draco's brows shot up in pleasure, and a soft moan escaped between those lips Harry was licking. Harry turned them then, pressing the back of Draco's legs into his desk. Releasing the hand he was still holding, Harry slid it behind Draco, and then down over Draco's soft backside, until his hands were against the back of Draco's thighs. Effortlessly, he lifted Draco and scooted him onto his desk, pushing name plaque, quill and ink aside as he did so. Draco's arms lifted then and wrapped around Harry's neck, and he opened his mouth under Harry's. Harry immediately took the offer, and plunged his own tongue inside. His own moan escaped him then, because Draco tasted like, unbelievably, treacle tart. If Harry had thought about it, he'd remember that there had been women walking amidst the guests of tonight's celebration offering treacle tart, Harry's favorite dessert, but Harry couldn't possibly think about that right now. He couldn't think beyond Draco and the feel of him. Harry doubted he'd ever be able to think past that ever again.

The event was a mess of blinding colors, fuzzy shapes, and the whisper of moans and groans. There had been some small pain, but then Harry had pressed further into him, and Draco had arched his back, practically screaming Harry's name as the man had touched upon something that immediately made Draco see spots of black in his vision. The pleasure was just too much. It was blinding him. There was a rushing sound in his ears, like he was making love under a waterfall, not atop a desk, and his mind was hazy and disoriented. Every sense he had was completely absorbed with Harry. The smell of his body, of his sweat as he worked himself in and out of Draco, the taste of his mouth when Harry would kiss him, the feel of his flawless, slightly tanned skin as Draco's fingers aimlessly wandered over all the exposed flesh.

So, no, Draco had not imagined that the first time he had sex he would be on a desk, much less with Harry Potter, but, as Draco tossed his head back and cried out as his passion erupted out of him in silky strands of white, he didn't imagine it could have been any better if it had been anywhere else – though it still had to have been with Harry for it to be this amazingly, wonderful good. Draco was shaking, Harry was too, and as he felt Harry tense up, Draco leaned forward, wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's shoulders and his legs tighter around Harry's waist before whispering against his ear, "Come for me, Harry." The other man let out a whimper then that made goose bumps arise on both of their bodies before Harry did just as requested.

When it was over, they stayed clinging to one another, their sweat-slicked bodies shivering in the aftermath. Harry kept pressing soft kisses against his neck, over his collarbone, up his jaw line, and Draco's fingers continued to brush lightly over firm skin and through strands of black hair that felt exactly as he had imagined: like silk. Draco had come here to tell Harry that he loved him. He hadn't managed that so far, but at least they had done something else Draco had wanted to do for a very, very long time now. Draco finally leaned back so he could look into those bright green eyes, "Harry, I need to tell you something else."

Harry grinned, "What? There's more?"

Draco couldn't help himself, he smiled back, and then he nodded, "I didn't come to tell you that I wanted you."

Harry's brow perked, "Oh? Could have fooled me."

Now Harry's cheeks were blazing red, and Draco realized that Harry was thinking something he shouldn't be thinking, and so Draco said, "Though this was most certainly a plus, it was not what I wanted to tell you."

"Oh," Harry replied. The rosy color to his cheeks disappeared some as he asked, "Then what?"

"I came to tell you that I…" the words froze in Draco's throat. What if he did get sent to Azkaban tomorrow? Did he really want to bind Harry to him in this way? Harry was a Gryffindor, fiercely loyal, and he would go to that prison everyday if Draco spilled to him what he wanted to tell him.

Harry blinked, "You came to tell me that you…you what, Draco?"

Draco swallowed, opened his mouth to think of something else to say, but then there was knock at their office door. Harry and Draco's head whipped in the direction of the door.

"Um…just a moment," Harry called aloud, and then pulled away from Draco.

Draco immediately missed Harry's heat, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he retrieved his wand from his dress robes – lying on the floor next to Harry's – cast a few cleansing charms on himself and Harry, and then began to hurriedly dress. Harry finished first, and while Draco was smoothing back his hair, Harry fixed the mess on his desk. He then looked at Draco who nodded to let him know it was alright, and Harry looked back to the door, "Come in."

The door pushed open and Hermione Granger was standing there, Ron Weasley just behind her. Her eyes flitted from Harry and then to Draco, and her brows knit together. Draco had a feeling that the mud-ahem-witch knew what had just been going on in this room. How she would know, Draco didn't know. But when Draco looked over at Harry, he suddenly realized how she knew, and his cheeks turned so red, he probably looked like a tomatoe. Harry was wearing his green tie, which meant that Draco must be wearing Harry's red one. Oh good Lord. When Draco dared to look back at Granger, she was wearing a knowing smile. Weasley didn't look the slightest bit aware of what had been going on as he finally spoke, "We were all wondering where you had disappeared off to. Can you not work for just one night, Harry?"

Harry, not noticing the tie mishap, but recognizing that know-it-all face on Hermione, answered a bit nervously, "Ah, you know me. I just can't help myself. Besides, it's Seamus that is missing. I figure all my spare time should be spent on this."

Hermione finally spoke, "Yes, well, that's all very fine, Harry, but you don't have free time right now. You know you're supposed to be up at the party."

Harry shrugged, "What for? It's pointless. I have other things to do."

Hermione sighed, "Because, Harry, it makes the people feel better. They like seeing you."

"I've already put in an appearance tonight, Hermione. That should be enough for the masses. I have work to do," Harry bit at her.

Hermione's brow quirked and she said, "Yes, but I wouldn't call what you were doing just now 'work', Harry."

Harry swallowed and turned red. Draco was also a shade of red, and he was looking at the floor intently.

"What? What's that mean, 'Mione?" Ron asked looking back and forth between his fiancée and his best friend.

Hermione shook her head, "Nothing, Ronald. Come on; let's go back up to the party. Harry, we'll be waiting for you upstairs."

Harry nodded, but didn't reply.

"Wait – what's going on?" Ron asked, but Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Once they were gone, Harry looked over at Draco. He opened his mouth several times, and then said, "She always was the smartest witch of our time."

Draco made a sound that Harry took as agreement.

The following day, at two p.m. sharp, Draco was escorted, along with his parents, into the room in which the Wizengamot sat waiting for them. But the Wizengamot weren't the only people waiting for him. To Draco's surprise, the entire Auror office was sitting off on the sidelines, including Harry. Draco felt his heart smile at the man's presence. After Granger and Weasley had departed, Draco had pointed out the ties, and after switching that which had given them away to Hermione they had parted, promising to meet later that night. And they had. Harry had taken Draco home, and there they had made love again and again. Draco was very tired today, but he couldn't much make himself care.

It was by sheer force of will that he did not grin like an idiot when he saw Harry sitting there. Plus, it was very touching that the entire Auror office had turned up to stand for him. Lucius and Narcissa both looked toward those gathered there for their son, and bowed their head slightly in gratitude. Lucius and Narcissa had no doubt where they were going to end up after today's trial, but they had come to terms with it. They just couldn't stand for their son to suffer their own fate.

There were three chairs waiting for them. Lucius sat in the one in the middle. Narcissa sat to his right, and Draco to his left. Draco placed his hands in his lap and waited for the proceedings to begin. He did not have to wait long.

"We are here today to discuss the crimes of the Malfoy family. I have here," the Minister uncurled a piece of parchment before him, "a list of all of your crimes. The most serious of which is murder."

Draco continued to listen in rapt attention as the crimes of his father, then his mother, and finally him were listed off in the booming, authoritive voice of the minister. When the room was finally silent again, Draco shifted slightly in his seat. This was it. This was where he would get ripped away from Harry. Draco was suddenly regretting his decision to not tell Harry that he loved him.

"Minister?" Harry's voice echoed through the room, and all heads turned to look in his direction.

"Yes, Harry?" the Minister said, letting everyone know his attention was held by the speaking man.

Harry was standing up, his back straight with determination as he looked up at the minister and the members of Wizengamot, "Today, I came here to speak for Draco Malfoy. As you can see, I am not alone in this. Next to me, behind me, beside me, are the other Aurors that work in the same department as he and I. Though none of us dispute the fact that Draco has committed crimes in his past, we are asking all of you to see the good that he has done in the time he has been assigned to the Auror department. Draco has captured just as many criminals as I have. His work ethic is unparalleled, and there is meticulousness to his performance from the most strenuous activity such as hunting to the most mundane such as paperwork that makes us all respect him. We come here today asking you to not send him to Azkaban. I personally believe that such a decision would only be detrimental to the ministry, not helpful."

Draco hadn't realized that Harry was so articulate. He was touched that this new eloquence of Harry's was brought out by Harry's obvious need to protect him; Draco.

Harry grew silent, and the minister said, "Is that all?"

Harry looked toward Draco, and then back up at the minister, "I also request that you drop the charges against Narcissa Malfoy, as if it were not for her lying to Voldemort that I had been dead the night of the Battle at Hogwarts, I would truly be dead."

This surprised Draco and his eyes widened. Narcissa was looking over at Harry with her eyes wide as well. Lucius was the only one still facing forward, looking up at the minister. Even the Aurors were looking at Harry in surprise.

The minister asked again, "Is that all?"

"I'll wait to say something further if I feel I must. Thank you for listening, Minister," Harry bowed his head, and then sat down.

The minister looked down at the small family before him. His eyes alighted on Lucius Malfoy, "No one has spoken for you, Lucius. Do you have anything to say in your own defense?"

Lucius shook his head, "No. My crimes speak for themselves. I have nothing to say."

"In that case, it will be your fate that is decided upon first. All those in favor of a life-sentence for Lucius Malfoy raise your hand."

After this declaration slight murmurs were heard, and then every single hand of the Wizengamot lifted into the air. Draco heard a soft sob come out of his mother, but Draco forced himself to continue looking forward. Unbeknownst to him, Lucius reached out and touched the back of his wife's hand, and then he moved his hand back to the arm of his chair where, once his arms were resting there, chains appeared out of thin air and curled themselves around his wrists, securing him in place.

"All those in favor of a life-sentence for Narcissa Malfoy, raise your hand."

There was more murmuring then, and only one or two hands went into the air.

"All those in favor of a reduced sentence for Narcissa Malfoy, raise your hand."

There were more hands this time, but still not an overwhelming vote.

The minister made a soft "hmm" noise, and then said, "All those in favor of dropping all charges against Narcissa Malfoy, raise your hand."

All the hands that had not gone up before lifted, and it was in this way that Harry's debt to Narcissa was repaid. She was released. Dropping her head into her hands she began to sob, and Draco knew it was for her freedom as well as the fact that she would now be separated from her husband, his father.

"And finally, Draco Malfoy," the minister looked down at him, "I must tell you, Draco, that seeing all of the Aurors here today speaking on your behalf through Harry is quite the sight. After all you have done, I never would have expected it. Most certainly not from Harry, but here it has happened, and here it is I must take notice. However, the law is the law, and I must treat you as I would any other prisoner. Therefore, all those in favor of a life-sentence for Draco Malfoy, raise your hand."

The murmuring in the room amidst the Wizengamot was a lot more pronounced this time. After several minutes of this murmuring, no one had yet lifted a hand. However, as they were still talking more time was allotted to them. And then, the hands started going up.

"Wait!" Harry was on his feet again, and everyone's hands slightly lowered as their hero rose to his feet. "Wait," Harry repeated, "I have one last thing to say."

The minister perked a brow, "Go on then, Harry."

All eyes were on him in curiosity now, including Draco's. What else could Harry have to say that would make the Wizengamot change their minds? Draco had seen their hands going up, and he knew he was about to face the same fate as his father.

He heard Harry clear his throat, and so he refocused his attention on him. Harry was the shade of a tomatoe again, and despite the circumstances Draco felt the corners of his mouth lifting. How he adored that man. How he had ever thought he hated him was beyond him.

"I know that this may be incredibly presumptuous of me, but I…I defeated Voldemort. As such, I think that every wizard and witch on this planet owes me his or her lives. Now, I never had any intention of calling upon all of these life-debts, but I have them to call upon, regardless."

There was shifting in the crowd as they tried to see where this was going. Draco's brows were knitted together in confusion as well.

"I am not asking you to give me your lives, members of the Wizengamot, but I am asking you to serve me in another manner. Do not send Draco to Azkaban. Consider it payment for your lives, consider it a 'thank you' to your hero, consider it the right thing to do, I don't care. Just don't send him to Azkaban," Harry was trembling, Draco could tell this from all the way across the room.

"Harry, why is it that you are putting so much into keeping Malfoy out of Azkaban?" a witch's voice sounded, and when Draco turned to look he noticed Granger was sitting next to the minister. Well, she had certainly done well for herself, hadn't she?

Draco turned to look at Harry again, and he was staring right at Draco, his eyes shining with the force of his emotion. Draco's breath caught in his throat, and then he stopped breathing all together when Harry finally answered, his voice strained, "Because I love him."

There was a collective gasp from everyone in the room. Hermione was on her feet, leaning forward to look down at her best friend, "Harry! You must be joking!"

Harry shook his head, tore his eyes away from Draco's, and looked back up at the Wizengamot, "I am not joking. I love him. Once I admitted this to myself, I also admitted that I cannot live without him, and so I beg of you, members of the Wizengamot, do not take him away from me. Please. Consider it a favor."

The murmurs in the room were fierce as the members spoke to those before, beside, and behind them. Harry stood trembling, trying to ignore the surprised looks of the Aurors around him. Instead, he let his gaze settle on Draco who was staring at him, his mouth slightly agape. Harry couldn't help but smile. He had just knocked all of Draco's composure right out the door.

The minister cleared his throat, "Well, I would ask the Wizengamot again: Those in favor of a life-sentence for Draco Malfoy, raise your hands."

After several long moments, not a single hand raised.

The minister tried again, "Those in favor of a reduced sentence for Draco Malfoy, raise your hands."

Again, no hands lifted into the air.

Finally, "Those in favor of dropping all charges against Draco Malfoy and releasing him, raise your hands."

Wizengamot members lifted their hands, including Hermione's, and even the minister's hand went up.

Harry bowed his head, "Thank you," his whisper echoed through the room.

Draco was waiting in their office, pacing back and forth. He was disturbed only for a moment when another Auror came in to say that Seamus Finnegan had turned up on his own. He had been hiding out at Neville Longbottom's place, said he needed time away from his crazy girlfriend, the one who had reported him missing in the first place: Lavender Brown. Draco had then shooed the Auror away in preparation for Harry and when Harry came through the door, he quickly waved his wand in the direction of it. The door slammed shut, and then he waved his wand a few more times casting every silencing and locking charm he knew.

Harry was looking at him bewilderingly, "Draco, what-?"

"I love you."

Harry blinked, and then he smiled, "I love you too."

"Yes," Draco said, "I heard you from before. Now what are we going to do about this?"

Harry looked at Draco, confusion written all over his face.

"What?" Draco chuckled, "You think everyone is going to be alright with this? With us?"

Harry shrugged, and finally moved across the room to pull Draco tight against him, "I don't care what they think, Draco. I don't care if they're alright with us or not."

"Harry, people aren't going to be able to accept their Golden Boy with an ex-Death Eater," Draco answered. He did not fight Harry's hold on him. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his waist, buried his head in the side of his neck.

Harry whispered against his ear, "I don't care, Draco. I've done enough for them, I will not do what they want when it comes to my love life as well."

"You're such a stupid man, Harry."

"Quite possibly, but you love me. You can be my brains now."

After that, they put all those silence and locking charms into use.

Author's Note: The next chapter is actually an alternate ending. It was the ending that originally went with this story, but after I wrote it I hated it, and so wrote the ending up above. However, since it was supposed to be the true ending, I've decided to go ahead and share. But, be warned, it does not have a happy ending.