[Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the work of J.K. Rowling and is not my intellectual property. I intend no copyright infringement and seek no financial gain from this work. This work of fiction is purely for entertainment purposes.]

"Open up! POTTER, OPEN UP!"

"What?! What the fuck is it that it couldn't wait until tomorrow?!"

"Theo asked me to marry him."

"And?"

"I told him I need some time to think about it."

"Is that what you're doing on my front step at this hour, Malfoy? Thinking about it?"

"I'm going to tell him yes."

"Good for you. Congratulations in advance."

"Aren't- Aren't you going to talk me out of it?"

"Why in the name of Merlin's balls would I do that?"

"You're the worst kind of liar there is."

"Thanks. Just out of curiosity, how many kinds are there?"

"Fuck you."

"Goodnight, Malfoy."

Harry ignores the pounding of a gloved fist on his front door and the muffled yells of 'What are you afraid of, Potter?'

He also ignores the steadily tightening ball of pain in his chest that was threatening to make him buckle at the knee.

"All alone, Potter?"

Harry didn't have to look around to put a face to that voice. He'd recognise it even if he was blind, deaf in one ear and on his deathbed.

"Do you see anyone next to me, Malfoy?"

"Mind if I sit down then?"

"Yes, I mind."

"Thank you."

Malfoy smelt like a warm breeze blowing across a field of sweet, wild flowers; like dew drenched grass and fresh lemonade; like ice lollies flavoured with fresh raspberry syrup and cornflower blue skies; like unrestrained laughter and happiness one can only dream of. He smelt like summer in the gloomy chill of late November and it was nearly too lovely for Harry to bear.

Harry tried his best not to breathe in too deep.

"Aren't you going to offer to buy me a drink, Potter?"

"No." In place of the expected cutting retort, there was only silence. "Why would I do that?"

"So we can be friends, of course. Gryffindors excel at that type of thing, or so I'm told."

Harry wondered if he was giving in only because he was already tipsy.

"Top me up here, Tom? And this git here will have one as well."

"I'm his new friend," Draco nodded to the toothless barman and raised his glass with long, white fingers. "I like your jumper, Potter."

Harry looked down at the nondescript green wool he wore and then at Malfoy. "The fuck?"

"It brings out your eyes. Why are you alone?"

"Why are you so annoying?"

"Because it goes well with my charming personality."

"Who the hell told you that?"

"My boyfriend."

Harry didn't reply, simply watching Malfoy drain his glass and gesture for a refill.

"So, are you going to answer my question now?" Malfoy tilted his head curiously. Harry remained silent for way too long.

"I like being alone."

"Why?"

"Are you going to question me all night?"

"Are you going to sit here with me all night?"

"Are you going to sit here with me all night?"

"If you want me to."

"You have a boyfriend."

"I do."

"Why aren't you sitting with him – wherever he is?"

"Because I'm sitting here with you." Malfoy smiled like a child that had won an argument with an adult – cheeky and proud and insufferably cute.

"I like being alone because that way I don't have to answer a million questions."

"What's wrong with answering questions?"

"It makes me want to wring the asker's neck."

"You want to wring my neck, Potter?"

"Pretty darn desperately."

"Why do you hate me, Potter?"

Harry paused with his glass inches away from his mouth. He glanced sideways to find Malfoy looking at him with a quiet patience. "Because you're an irritating bastard." When Malfoy didn't react except for twinkling at him with round, grey eyes, Harry found himself blurting out a question of his own. "Do you hate me?"

Malfoy smiled. "I can't hate my friends, Potter."

Harry falls asleep late, and wakes up late and opens shop late and so has to rush to get the fresh batches of ice cream out front on time. Lydia, his only employee, helps him carry out crates of fresh ingredients in from the delivery chute and talks without pause until he shoos her out to go mind shop out front. He's just scraping out a batch of strawberry from the machine into its tub when the Floo bursts into a cloud of green and Malfoy steps out. Harry doesn't look at him.

"I said yes."

"So?" He can hear Lydia greet customers out front with her usual sunny cheer.

"Why are you doing this?"

"What exactly am I doing, Malfoy?" Harry slams the tub down on the counter beside the quietly vibrating ice cream machine. It disappears with a slight pop and in the ringing silence after Harry's loud question they both hear the soft pop again as it reappears in its spot in the display freezer out front.

"Nothing, that's what; you're doing nothing. And you're a fucking coward."

"Because you're not?" Harry waves his wand a little too vigorously and the canister cleans itself with an indignant squeak, sparkling up at Harry as he lets it swing back into place.

"You're not giving me much reason to be brave!"

"What do you want from me?!" Harry slams his fist on a siren red button and fresh cream, full-fat, thick and yellow starts to pour into the clean vessel.

"I want what you want!"

"You know nothing about what I want, Malfoy."

"Don't I?"

"Go plan your wedding," Harry turns away, stomach plummeting at the hurt fury on Malfoy's face.

Harry hadn't realised how loudly he was yelling into the drain grille at his feet until he felt an arm brush his own and turned with a jerk.

"Whom are you talking to?" Malfoy's voice was a pleasant chime.

"Jesus Christ, not you again," he growled.

"Is this how you greet all your friends?"

"Are you following me?"

"Not you, no, just the sound of your delightfully drunken screaming. I daresay the whole street heard you, Potter," he peered into the drain. "Who's in there?"

"Nobody, you fucking idiot. I dropped my fucking lighter."

Malfoy laughed and Harry stared at him simply because the sound made his breath catch and he wanted to say more things that Malfoy might find funny.

"Here," Malfoy was smiling and holding out a sleek, silver lighter with intricate, detailed engraving around the bottom half. Harry lifted his cigarette to his mouth and bent forward while Malfoy leaned in a little closer than strictly required to light it, cupping his other hand carefully against the biting wind. "Must have been a special lighter," he murmured once the tip glowed orange and Harry began puffing out clouds of grey.

"It was a gift," Harry noted that he sounded quite morose and grit his teeth at the curiously soft expression on Malfoy's face.

"From whom?"

"Doesn't fucking matter now, does it?"

"You've been yelling into the sewers for the last ten minutes, so obviously it does."

"I wasn't yelling into the sewer."

"At what then?"

"My shitty fucking luck."

Malfoy looked at him with that odd expression once more but didn't reply. And then—

"You disappeared last week. I waited, you know. Mind if I borrow one?"

Harry held out the pack of cigarettes in silence, watching the way the pink lips wrapped around the thin white tube, the pale cheeks hollowed as he pulled the smoke in, the way his thin hands, encased in expensive looking gloves, held the cigarette delicately.

"Been drinking alone again, Potter?"

"I didn't have the energy for any more questions," Harry realised his answer was several seconds too late.

"Yes, well, you were very drunk," Malfoy said. "Where do you live?" he asked out of the blue.

"Why?"

"It's cold; I thought we could head to yours."

"Why?"

"Because I assume you have a fireplace and a bottle of scotch that we could share."

"Why?"

"Because I don't feel like going home yet and the pub's full and horribly noisy."

"Okay."

Malfoy sat with his socked feet curled under himself and spoke very steadily for someone who'd guzzled half a bottle of scotch in twenty minutes.

"He killed himself out of pure shame, my Father," he said matter-of-factly. "And well, Mother, it would have been silly to even hope that she recovers. She died of sheer heartbreak, you know."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy."

"Why, Potter? I'm alive, aren't I?" Malfoy's smile was blinding and Harry couldn't look at him for too long. "Now you tell me something personal."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because we're friends now." When Harry didn't reply, Malfoy's face fell slightly and Harry decided he didn't like that look on his smug white face.

"I keep telling everyone that I like to be alone but I don't," Harry was embarrassingly drunk and wanted to spell his lips shut. "Not really."

"Of course you don't."

Malfoy moved closer to Harry on the sofa so their elbows knocked together and Malfoy's toes wiggled their way under Harry's thigh.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Harry asked abruptly, remembering through the haze of alcohol.

Malfoy shrugged, and without bothering to pour himself another helping, lifted the bottle directly to his lips and gulped the amber liquid like it was merely pumpkin juice.

"We fought," he grunted after several seconds of them both staring into the spitting fire. "Who was the sewer lighter a gift from?"

"It wasn't exactly a – it was Sirius'."

"Oh."

"Who's he; who's your boyfriend?"

"Theo Nott."

"Oh."

"Will you take me to the Muggle cinema tomorrow?"

"...What?"

"I want to watch a move."

"It's 'movie'."

"Right. Tomorrow?"

"Fine."

They watched some sort of crime thriller, Malfoy finding most of it hilariously absurd, sniggering through handfuls of popcorn.

"You'd think they'd have stumbled upon the bloody skeleton a lot sooner," he chortled as they headed to the pub, quickly ducking under the faded yellow awning of a building to escape a sudden drizzle. "It's only a full set of adult human bones; Merlin, these Muggles."

"Yeah, 'cause everyone makes it their business to first check their surroundings for a fucking skeleton."

Malfoy grinned and the water droplets in his hair shone crystal bright.

"Got a light?" Harry pulled out a cigarette and pressed it to his mouth before he pulled out another. Malfoy carefully lit both smokes before he casually slipped the sleek silver lighter into Harry's pocket.

"Er..."

"Don't drop that one into the sewers, Potter," smoke curled out of the too sharp nose before he turned to smile at Harry, "It's a gift."

"What in the world are you doing here?"

"Goddammit, Malfoy. How did you find me?"

Malfoy huffs and perches on the stool beside his. "You hate this place; you think it's too posh. I knew you'd be in the last place I'd think to check."

"Malfoy, I'm fucking serious. Go. Away."

"No. I want to talk to you."

"What about?"

"My engagement with Theo."

"Right, that's it. I'm leaving." Harry drains his drink, throws twelve galleons on the bar and gets up, swaying just a little bit.

And then Malfoy's hand is like a vice around his wrist. "I'm coming with you."

"Why can't you get it through your thick skull that I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore?!"

"You're lying."

Harry jerks his arm free and trips out of the pub. Outside, he's digging through his pockets for his cigarettes only to remember that he'd finished his pack that afternoon and hadn't bought anymore since.

Malfoy's hand appears under his nose, holding two cigarettes. Harry fishes out the silver lighter and lights both.

"He doesn't like it, you know," Malfoy says casually, as though continuing a conversation they'd just been having. "Theo. He hates smelling these on me."

"Then why d'you do it?"

"I only ever smoke with you, Potter."

"Why?"

Malfoy smiles, jerking his cigarette with his thumb to flick ash off the end. "It's our thing, Potter," he says simply.

"Malfoy, why won't you leave me alone?"

"You hate being alone."

"I don't care about that. I don't want you here."

"Why?" A pause. "Is it because I'm engaged now?"

Harry darts him a look, nostrils flaring. "Yes," he grits honestly, hands trembling before he clenches them into fists.

Malfoy stares at him with very wide eyes. "Are you asking me to choose, Potter? Choose between you and Theo?"

Harry sighs and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, his cigarette dangling from his fingers. "No," he sighs. "Of course not, you twat."

"Because I will," Malfoy says and Harry's breath catches in his throat. He stares in silence until Malfoy adds, "I'll choose you, Potter."

"So, why an ice cream parlour, Potter?" Malfoy sipped neatly on his scotch, turning sideways and leaning forward on his stool, his attention keen and fixed on Harry.

Harry shrugged, gulping half a snifter of whiskey before shrugging again. "'s ice cream. Everyone likes ice cream." Malfoy simply nodded, eyes bright. "Fortescue was selling the place after the War and I bought it. He even gave me all his recipes."

"Oh no, your ice cream is definitely better."

Harry's mouth twisted into something akin to a smile. "'s the same ice cream, Malfoy."

Malfoy was jolted forward as someone walked up beside his stool and gestured for the barkeep. He frowned over his shoulder and slipped onto the edge of his stool so he's not pressed up against the stranger anymore.

"So, you never did tell me about Weasley and Granger," he said and Harry let his gaze shift from the bloke who'd elbowed him to Malfoy's openly curious expression.

"What haven't I told you about them?"

"You don't see them anymore." It was not a question.

"No."

"Why?"

"I dunno."

"Don't you?"

Harry sighed wearily through his nose. "Don't you ever get tired of questioning me?"

"No," replied Malfoy. "Besides, you barely even answer any of them."

The man behind Draco shifted, jerking Malfoy forward again."Excuse me. Can you watch it, please?" Malfoy snapped over his shoulder. The man simply glanced at him before looking away again.

Malfoy huffed and turned back to Harry. "Don't you miss them?" he asked softly.

"They're better off without me," replied Harry. "I dragged them into a lot of dangerous shit."

"Did they complain?"

"No, but—"

"They miss you, Potter."

Harry turned on his stool to face him, eyes narrowed. "How d'you know that?"

Malfoy huffed again, sipping some more scotch. "I just know. I'm sure they miss you."

"But how d'you know?"

"Because I've only been your friend for a year or so now but I'd still miss you if you cut me out of your life."

Harry was still staring at him in silence a few seconds later when the man behind Malfoy leaned his weight against Malfoy's back. Malfoy leaped to his feet and spun around, teeth bared.

"The fuck is your problem?!" he hissed and the man smirked.

"Anything to get your attention, pretty," he said, winking and stepping closer. "Is he your boyfriend?" A nod towards Harry.

"Get your ugly mug out of our faces," Malfoy snapped, punctuating it with a sturdy shove to the man's chest.

Harry got to his feet as the man's expression darkened. "We don't want any trouble," he said, pulling Malfoy back by the elbow. "Just leave us be."

But the man looked furious at being pushed and was crowding up against Malfoy with an ugly sneer. "Do that again and I'll bend you over this bar, right here," he spat, reaching up to squeeze Malfoy's cheeks with one hand.

Malfoy threw his hand off and punched him right on the mouth, sending him flying back onto his arse.

Without waiting for the man to scramble back up, Harry grabbed Malfoy's shoulder and firmly steered him out of the pub, hardly even aware of all the stares they were getting. There was an angry burst of swearing from behind but Harry didn't look behind as the pub door shut behind them.

"Can't Apparate from here," he muttered. "Side alley, c'mon."

Malfoy was spitting expletives under his breath as he cradled his hand but didn't resist as Harry led him towards the dark alley.

They'd barely stepped into the shadows when there was the sound of loud footsteps thumping against the pavement and, upon turning, Harry saw the man from the bar, his mouth still bleeding, flanked by two others, the trio making their way towards them at a swift clip, expressions thunderous.

Without thinking about it, Harry stepped in front of Malfoy.

"We don't want any trouble," he repeated and the man in the middle laughed, spitting out blood.

"Too late for that, innit?" he jeered and lunged for Malfoy.

Barely aware of himself for the next few seconds, when Harry blinked around, it was to find all three men sprawled out in the filthy alley.

"Stand the fuck down," Harry growled, one arm shooting out to roughly keep Malfoy behind him.

"You fucking shite!"

"Get him!"

"Get this one outta the way, first!"

He could hear Malfoy screaming his name, flinging himself forward before Harry shoved him back once more. He could feel his knuckles splitting open as he swung his hand wildly, feeling bones cracking under his fists, the men roaring in rage and pain.

And then Harry was seized by both arms, held firmly in place as the man with the bleeding mouth, and now, broken nose, stalked forward.

"Potter!" Malfoy was beside him, trying and failing to drag away the man pinning Harry's right arm.

The very first blow to his stomach had Harry grunting in pain and bending over before he was wrestled back up only to receive a few more blows to the stomach and a couple to his face.

Malfoy was still screaming, but when Harry blinked around, shaking hair out of his eyes and spitting blood, he saw it was because the man on his right had Malfoy by the throat.

His burst of uncontrolled magic flared scarlet around them, lighting up the alley briefly so that Harry and Malfoy could clearly see the three men fly up and crash into the alley wall, crumpling immediately, all of them unconscious.

"Potter!" Malfoy's shout was very close to his ear and Harry winced, tipping lightly on the spot, his vision swimming.

When he next opened his eyes, he was lying shirtless on the sofa in Grimmauld, his stomach and sternum shimmering under the bluish glow of a Healing Charm, his torn knuckles bound carefully. Malfoy was sitting beside him, eyes bloodshot, and as Harry looked at him, he raised a bottle of Ogden's to his mouth and took a huge gulp before extending the bottle to Harry.

Wincing slightly, Harry sat up, accepting the bottle gratefully and pouring some down his throat. His split lip stung like a bitch when the alcohol trickled over it and Malfoy's hand was warm on his bruised flank.

"You scared me," Malfoy said hoarsely and Harry shrugged with another wince.

"You okay?" he asked and Malfoy nodded.

"You didn't have to do that for me," he said, taking the bottle from Harry and gently caressing his bandaged knuckles in the same move.

Harry's lip hurt some more as he smiled wryly. "'s what friends do, no?"

Malfoy's hand was soft on his cheek, his thumb careful over Harry's split lip. "I'll Heal this for you," he murmured and Harry shook his head.

"I'm okay," he said, staring straight into Malfoy's dark grey gaze, bloodshot eyes slightly puffy as though determined to give away Malfoy's quickly wiped tears.

"Potter," whispered Draco, leaning forward a bit and thumbing his cut lip once more.

The kiss was slow, a bit clumsy but firm. Malfoy's lips were softer than a rose against Harry's own and his breath smelt of Ogden's; when Harry recovered from the initial shock and reciprocated, sliding his tongue boldly into Malfoy's mouth, his mouth tasted of Ogden's too.

When they pulled back, merely an inch or two away, their brows pressed together, Malfoy shivered against him. "I was so scared," he breathed and Harry gulped before forcing out a teasing snort.

"Draco Malfoy afraid of a few Muggles?"

Malfoy blinked, jaw line taut as he let out a shuddering breath through his nose.

"I was afraid something would happen to you," he said after a pause.

Harry didn't reply immediately. "I'm fine, Malfoy. Thanks for patching me up." His hand had dried blood on it as he raised it to cup Malfoy's cheek. "I'm fine," he repeated.

They kissed again, and again and then some more, and through it all, through the various aches, through the thrill of Malfoy's mouth against his, all Harry could feel was...happiness.

"Stop following me, Malfoy." Harry doesn't look back as he strides along.

"Why are you running from me, Potter?"

"Because I can't be around you anymore."

"Is it because I'm engaged to Theo?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you stop me, then?!"

"I had no business dictating what you should or shouldn't do, Malfoy."

"But what about us?!"

At this, Harry stops and turns, his voice coming out an enraged, pained hiss. "Yeah, what about us?!"

"I asked you before I said yes to Theo!"

"What were you hoping I'd do or say, Malfoy?!" and then, with a mirthless chuckle, "A proposal from me as well?"

Malfoy's hands were pale, clenched fists by his side.

"Something like that," he finally says calmly and Harry blinks in shock. "You kissed me back last week," he adds.

"I did."

"Why did you kiss me back if you don't care about me or what I do?"

Harry just shakes his head. "I don't know what to do anymore, Malfoy."

"Ask me to choose," Malfoy says, voice breaking. "Just ask me to choose, Potter."

"What right do I have to ask you to choose me?" Harry's chest aches at how open Malfoy's expression is.

"Nobody but you has the right, Potter," Malfoy says, shaking his head and stepping forward.

"Why did you say yes?" Harry whispers, ashamed at the petulance in his tone.

"I—" Malfoy shakes his head again, gulping hard. "Ask me to choose," he repeats, his voice so soft that it's merely a puff of air against Harry's face.

"Choose." Harry doesn't look away when he says it.

Malfoy grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and Disapparates.

Harry's head spins as Malfoy's scent fills his senses. He can't think beyond the words Malfoy whispers into his skin, he can't see anything but the marmoreal perfection of Malfoy's skin, his limbs long and bare; can't hear anything but the soft moans Malfoy muffles into the pillow and couldn't taste anything but the sweet, musky taste of Malfoy's puckered arsehole, the heated throbbing of Malfoy's cock in his mouth.

After the rush of the initial frenzy, Harry fucks him again, slower, more thoroughly. Bodies slick with perspiration, moonlight slanting into the room in ivory columns, they rock together, hedonistic and leisurely, for long, heavenly minutes.

Later, as they lie there with Harry's head on Malfoy's chest, Malfoy says, "I have a confession to make and you're not allowed to get mad at me."

Except for stiffening slightly, Harry doesn't react. "What," he grunts after a beat.

"I didn't accept Theo's proposal. We—we broke up."

This time, the pause lasts longer.

Then Harry stirs, gently pushing away Draco's arm slung across his shoulders so he can sit up and fix Malfoy with an impassive stare.

"Why?" he asks finally.

"Why didn't I accept his proposal or—" Malfoy sits up too, nervous and fidgety, "—why did I lie about it?"

"Both," says Harry calmly. "But tell me why you lied first."

"I wanted to see what you'd have to say about it."

The silence stretches out again. "Sorry to disappoint, then."

"What?"

"I didn't exactly fight very hard for you, did I?"

A wry smile. "No. But I knew you'd get there in the end."

"Why didn't you accept his proposal?" Harry asks, blinking slowly.

"I haven't loved him in many, many months now, Potter."

Harry feels Malfoy's words touch every nerve ending he has, lighting his whole being up like nothing else had in a very long time.

"Do I make you happy?" enquires Harry.

"Yes," says Malfoy immediately.

"More than Nott did?"

"Yes."

"What else have you been lying to me about?"

Malfoy has the decency to flush although his chin does jerk up defiantly. "I'll write you a list," he drawls sarcastically and Harry feels something bubbling up to the surface.

A few seconds later, he realises it's laughter. He's laughing and drawing Malfoy closer for a kiss while wondering when the last time he felt such contentment was.

"Why did you choose to sit next to me that night, Malfoy?"

"I've wanted to sit beside you for years, Potter."

"Why?"

Malfoy simply stares at him like he's an idiot. Then, "I just wanted all the free ice cream."

And now there's more of it, laughter, fighting its way out of Harry on a hoarse chuckle.

Grinning, Malfoy permits Harry to nuzzle his cheek. There's a brief silence again during which Harry simply breathes against Malfoy's skin.

Malfoy speaks softly. "You're not angry?"

"No," replies Harry with half a shrug.

"Do you want me to stay the night?"

"Yes."

"Do you choose me?" When Harry leans back to gaze at him in the semi darkness, Malfoy says, "Tell me you choose me, Harry."

"I choose you, Draco."

~end~