What was the appropriate length of time after a divorce before throwing oneself at a coworker? A coworker that was far too straight to ever appreciate it, if the very existence of the ex-wife was any indication. Three months? Six? A year? Merlin, a year? Surely that was unrealistic.

"The Gods hate me," Harry whinged into his drink.

Ginny laughed merrily across the small table from him. "Only you could conclude that your one true love becoming available after ten years was the Gods way of expressing their hatred."

"Yeah. I'm a lucky bastard. Now, instead of watching him ignore his wife, I get to watch him entertain a string of rebound whores. But, of course, they won't be whores. Because he's far too refined for that. They'll no doubt be lovely, well-bred, intelligent, and perfectly in love with the very idea of being the next Mrs. Malfoy. I hate my life." He drained his firewhiskey and reached for the bottle only to have it snatched away by his supposed best friend.

"Oh yes," she drawled irritably. "Your life is simply dreadful, Harry. Half of the wizards in Britain, and a good number of the muggles, as well, would shag you silly the moment you crooked your finger. In fact, a good number of them have," she huffed, then continued before he could interject. "You're the most famous wizard alive, you're drop-dead gorgeous, you're rich, powerful, talented, respected, and you excel in a job you love. What's more, my sources tell me that you're in line for a promotion very soon. Yes. Your life is barely tolerable."

Harry blinked slowly at the redhead. "You have sources?"

She rolled her eyes, "Blimey, Harry, you're officially cut off. My work sources, you barmey pillock."

"Oh," he said sheepishly. It was sometimes hard to remember that she was a reporter. She was the only reporter in Britain whose default setting in his presence was "off the record".

She shook her head and poured herself another drink, rubbing it in that she could still drink when she wouldn't let him.

"Well, who cares about any of that other stuff?" he grumbled, settling into a true mope. "I still go home to an empty fucking house every night."

Instead of responding with sympathy or pity as his other friends would have, Ginny laughed. That, in Harry's mind, was what earned her the official "best" before her friend status. "If you don't want to go home to an empty house then do something about it, you whinging git," she snarked, her smirk taking away a little of the sting at the insult. But only a little. "You're Harry. Fucking. Potter, for Merlin's sake-"

"Which is exactly the problem in this case," Harry reminded her sharply. "He hates me, Ginny."

"Honestly, Harry. You're being a drama queen. He doesn't hate you."

"He's hated me since the moment I picked Ron over him," he grumbled.

"Maybe he did," she allowed easily. "But he doesn't hate you anymore. Don't even think about questioning me on that!" she snapped when Harry opened his mouth. "My ability to read people is the reason that I got Skeeter's job, as you well know. Gossip is so much more fun when the juicy bits are true."

"Okay," Harry relented gloomily. "Then explain to me what he's ever done to make you think he doesn't hate me."

She huffed, then began ticking items off on her fingers. "He didn't identify you when you were captured. He didn't try to kill you during the battle. You've told me yourself that he uses annoying hexes rather than painful ones on you in practice. And how many times have you met me for drinks with your eyes all starry because you just spent the last hour chatting with the prat?" She put her hands flat on the table and leaned towards him. "But, most of all, because you didn't see him three months ago when you went to St. Mungo's for that Bicarp poisoning. I mean, I know that he's pale in general, but I have never seen anyone as pale as he was when I got there."

"He didn't even come into my room," Harry pointed out without a lot of conviction.

"No," she conceded, "but he did pace the waiting room until the healers announced that you were definitely on the mend."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

She shrugged unrepentantly, "Because he was still married and I didn't want to torture you any more than you already torture yourself. I know you'd never make a move while he was wearing that ring."

Harry sighed heavily, "Fine. Maybe he doesn't hate me. He's still impossibly straight."

"Well…" Ginny smirked.

"What?!" Harry demanded, wondering what else she'd been keeping from him.

She shrugged delicately, "Well… That may actually be a bit exaggerated."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his heart pounding hard at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he actually did have a chance.

"Well, I received a tip last month that Draco might… might be cheating on his wife. I, of course, went to check it out, and it was true. They'd gone to a muggle restaurant, but it certainly wasn't a woman that I saw him kiss goodnight."

Harry digested that with a host of conflicting emotions. "So, you're telling me that he's bisexual if not gay, but that he's already seeing someone that he may be serious enough about to have ended his marriage." He hoped that made more sense to her than it had seemed to coming out of his mouth.

She shook her head thoughtfully, "I don't actually think it's serious. Or that Draco was the one to end his marriage."

"Why not?" Harry asked, then added, "To both."

"Well, I'm pretty sure that Astoria ended that marriage," she admitted first.

"Why?"

"What else could she do after anonymously receiving all those pictures?"

"You did what? Why?"

She rolled her eyes, "Honestly, Harry, I have no idea why I bother talking to you when you're not sober. All that common sense of yours is terribly muddled beneath the alcohol."

He huffed irritably, "Stop dodging the question, Gin."

"Fine," she relented. "After I saw him kissing a bloke, all I could think about was your enormous crush on him."

"You broke up his marriage for me?" Harry demanded.

"No!" she snapped indignantly. "For you, I didn't do it on the front page. That marriage was a ridiculous sham. Bent or bi, Draco was still kissing someone that wasn't his wife. And we both know that it wasn't a happy marriage, for Merlin's sake. They treated each other like business partners, Harry. Slytherin chit probably only dropped him because he wasn't discreet enough."

Harry thought about that for a long moment before his sluggish brain got back to the other issue, "Well, why do you think it isn't serious with that bloke?"

"Please, Harry," she frowned. "For starters, he was a Hufflepuff. Secondly, it was clear that Draco wasn't returning the passion of that kiss. It was more like a… consolation prize."

Harry blinked at the absurdity of that idea. Then he remembered that this meant that Draco was both single and interested in blokes, and realized that he couldn't care less about that Hufflepuff. "Well… Okay. So what do I do now?"

"Well, first, you go home and sleep it off," she said significantly, ignoring his rolling eyes. "Then, you owl me in the morning and ask me to remind you exactly what all we said tonight when you can't remember."

"Gin!" he scolded, and she chuckled.

"Relax, Harry. Leave it to me. Now let's get you home before you fall off your stool."

Harry did his best to look indignant and pretend that he hadn't just teetered. He really didn't drink this much all that often. Usually only when he was particularly upset about his inappropriate infatuation with his childhood enemy.

Ginny tossed some muggle notes onto the table to cover the tab, then helped him from his stool, putting her shoulder under his arm to steady him on the way out.

Harry's favorite thing about this muggle pub was that he rarely had anyone taking pictures of him if he stumbled out drunk.

"Oh, damn," Ginny cursed as soon as they left the pub. "I've forgotten my bag. Wait here, Harry, I'll be right back."

Harry leaned heavily against the wall while he waited for her return. Taking deep breaths in hopes of calming his stomach before he starting vomiting, he tilted his head back toward the nearly full moon and allowed himself a brief fantasy. He'd walk into Draco's office tomorrow, pin him against the wall, and berate him for taking so long to leave his wife. Then, while Draco sputtered as he tried to come up with a response, Harry would kiss him to within an inch of his life and promise that he would never let Draco get away from him.

A blinding flash brought Harry back to the present and he found himself staring at a camera held by a witch that he didn't recognize.

He opened his mouth to give her what for, but she just smirked at him before disapparating.

"Ready to go?" Ginny inquired as she joined him again, her bag now slung around her neck.

Harry shook off the strange but not terribly surprising incident, and nodded to Ginny.

*!*!*!*!*!*!*

Harry groaned as a beam of blinding light woke him as it sent throbbing pain through his head. He lifted his hand, using a simple spell to close the curtains, and sighed in the resulting darkness. He fumbled along the bedside table until he located the small bottle, and downed it in one swig without sitting up.

"I love you, Ginny," he breathed into the empty room as the hangover solution she'd left for him began to ease the pain in his head and the accompanying nausea.

When he began to feel more human again, he stumbled his way into the bathroom. A hot shower did wonders to bring him around to full consciousness. He dressed for work and made a quick breakfast. He'd only just sat down to eat when the post owl arrived with the Daily Prophet. He paid the owl and opened the paper to scan the headlines, as he always did. He rarely read much of it, but the reporting had improved a bit since Ginny had started there. And it was always a good idea to make sure there was nothing atrocious about him before going out into public.

He dropped his fork when he got a look at the front page story. It was the picture of him leaning against the wall that had been taken the night before. He didn't look as drunk as he'd felt at the time. His face was turned toward the sky, and the look on his face was… dreamy. The headline read:

Harry Potter Celebrates The Malfoy Divorce

"Sweet Merlin, Ginny, you didn't," he moaned miserably. Dreading what the article would say, Harry began to read.

After it was announced yesterday that Draco Malfoy and Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass had officially dissolved their ten-year union, Harry Potter was spotted in a muggle pub, celebrating. Now, dear readers, you may assume that this was the result merely of antipathy as the rivalry between these two former schoolmates is well known. What was overheard of Potter's conversation, however, suggests otherwise.

One source has confided that Draco Malfoy was referred to as the "love of [Potter's] life", and it was mentioned that Potter would "never make a move while [Malfoy] was wearing that ring".

Considering that Mr. Malfoy's marriage ended allegedly as a result of an incompatible sexual preference on his part, this reporter wonders if there won't still be a happy ending to this tale. Has Mr. Potter's elusive heart at last been stolen? Will he claim the hand of his long-time love?

Stay tuned, dear readers, as we continue to follow this story.

"I'm going to kill her," Harry said flatly as he stared at his own dreamy eyes on the front page of the most popular newspaper in wizarding Britain. How was he supposed to show his face at work after this? How was he ever going to look Draco in the eye again?

"'One source has confided'," he grumbled. He could only imagine that this was her twisted way of helping.

He quickly accio'd a parchment and quill, and set to writing.

Ginny,

WHAT THE SODDING HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? Is this your idea of helping? How can I even go in to work after this? How can I face him? You've completely ruined everything! If he didn't hate me before, he's going to hate me now! And you just had to out him while you were at it?! He's going to blame that on me, you know?

Damn it, Ginny! I am FURIOUS with you! Just stay away from me for a while, okay? If I saw you now, I'd probably curse you.

Harry

He took a long moment to collect himself so that he wouldn't upset his owl before sending off the letter. Though he desperately wanted to get "sick" today, he knew that he couldn't. If he avoided work and Draco today, it was just going to cement the validity of that article in everyone's mind.

So he would go into work. He would pretend that this article was just as baseless as most of the other tripe that had been gossiped about him over the years, and he would get on with his life. If he was very, very lucky, maybe Draco wouldn't blame him.

"Hah!" he barked bitterly. That was really bloody likely.

*!*!*!*!*!*!*

Though he got more curious and assessing looks than normal, and he had to dodge a lot of rather pointed questions, the day actually didn't go that badly. Particularly in relation to what he'd feared. Draco completely ignored him all day. Harry would have thought that he hadn't seen the article at all if he hadn't caught a couple times when Draco just slipped around a corner ahead of him. He was subtle about it, but the man was very obviously avoiding him.

Still, he was a nervous wreck the entire day. And trying to act like he wasn't dying inside a little bit every time Draco made a point of being nowhere near him was exhausting.

By the time he got home that night, Harry was convinced that any small chance he may have ever stood with Draco was now completely gone. Lost in a pretty significant mope, Harry took off his robes, and grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey before lounging on his sofa in his shirt sleeves.

He lit a fire to take the chill out of the air, and was just popping the cork on the bottle when there was a knock on the door.

Harry stared at it for a minute. He really hoped that it wasn't Ginny because they'd probably end up in a duel if he had to see her at the moment. And, though she was quite skilled with her hexes, he'd learned better than to fight fair in a duel.

The knock came again, more insistently.

Growling softly, he slashed his hand in the direction of the door, which unlocked and opened to reveal none other than Draco Malfoy.

Harry groaned. "If you've come about that article," who was he kidding, of course he had. Draco didn't exactly make a habit of randomly showing up at Harry's door. Ever. "You'll have to get in line to get a crack at Ginny," he finished dismally without getting up from his lounge.

Draco eyed him warily a moment before stepping inside and closing the door behind him. For a long moment, the blonde just stared at him.

"You're making up for avoiding me all day by coming to my flat and staring at me?" Harry inquired. He'd gone for annoyed, but it had come out sounding nothing more than tired. Which annoyed him.

Draco sneered, "Is it true?" he demanded.

"That I'm in love with you?" Harry asked, hoping that he sounded incredulous. "Why on Earth would you believe anything you read in that rag?"

"Maybe because it was written by your best friend?" Draco scoffed.

"Former best friend," Harry corrected, though he knew that he'd end up forgiving her. Eventually.

"Please, Potter," Draco said doubtfully. "You and the Weaslette have been inseparable since the war. I give your little spat a week, tops. Now answer my question."

Harry shook his head wearily. "You're seriously asking me," he frowned. "In what world could I ever love you? You were horrible to me for six years. You constantly mocked my friends and me. You tried to use an Unforgiveable on me."

"Right," Draco nodded neutrally and turned to leave.

"You saved my life," Harry continued.

Draco paused but didn't turn around.

"You're one of the best aurors in the department. You can actually challenge me in practice. Sometimes," he smirked a little.

Draco spun around at that, his eyes blazing indignantly.

Harry continued before he could say anything. "I stay late at work almost every day just because, if you leave before me, you'll usually stop by and say something before you go. And sometimes you sit down, and we talk for hours. About nothing more often than something, but it's still the highlight of my week. You can be a stuck up prat, but in this really dry way, so it's funny instead of mean like it used to be."

Harry stared at him for a moment, then added. "You're easily the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life. Of course I'm in love with you, you idiot." He averted his eyes, looking at the bottle in his hand, which his lips had yet to touch. He didn't want to see Draco's reaction. "Don't worry, I'll talk to Ginny. Get a retraction printed. And I won't bother you about this again."

Silence filled the flat for a minute or two, though it felt like hours.

Harry finally chanced a glance up at the blonde, who hadn't moved and was staring at him again.

"You really are an idiot, Harry," Draco said in the tone of a revelation.

"Thanks," Harry said dryly. "I'm aware."

Draco crossed the space between them slowly while Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He unceremoniously shoved Harry's feet off the sofa and sat down, turned so that he was facing him. "How long?" he asked quietly.

Harry sighed. Draco was not going to make this easy on him. He stared at his bottle again, avoiding those steely silver eyes. "Since my one and only visit to Malfoy Manor."

"Why didn't you say anything after the war?"

"Because you hated me." He'd have thought that was pretty obvious.

"I didn't hate you," Draco snapped. "You're the only reason I didn't go to Azkaban, and your testimony got a light sentence for my mother. How could I hate you?"

"Well, you'd been doing it for so long, I figured it was habit," Harry admitted with a small smile, glancing up to see the blonde scowl at him.

"Bloody Gryffindors," Draco said disdainfully. "A Slytherin would have had me in bed before the ink was dry on my pardon. I was so bloody grateful to you, I'd have done just about anything."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Oh." It hadn't actually occurred to him to try to get what he wanted that way.

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's all you've got to say for yourself? 'Oh'?"

"What do you want me to say?" Harry demanded defensively.

"Well, you could apologize for not sparing me all those years with Astoria," Draco said indignantly.

Harry stared, not sure he could speak even if he wanted to. Was Draco saying what it sounded like he was saying?

Draco stared at him for a moment longer, then huffed irritably. "Well, are you going to kiss me or should I leave?" he finally demanded.

For some reason, it took Harry several very long seconds to process the meaning of that sentence. Once he had, it took him less than a second to slide across the sofa and crush his lips into Draco's. His arms wound around the smaller man's frame and he straddled his lap, devouring his mouth hungrily, his brain all but shut down with pure bliss and utter disbelief that this was really, truly, finally happening. Some part of his mind noted that he was going to have to send Ginny a really nice thank you gift. Maybe the deed to a nice castle. She'd earned it with that article.

Draco moaned beneath him and Harry rejoiced at his ability to inspire such a completely delectable sound. Things were just beginning to get really interesting when they were interrupted by someone absolutely pounding on his door.

Harry groaned as he reluctantly wrenched his mouth free. Turning his face toward the door, he yelled, "WHAT?!"

"Harry James Potter!" Ginny's voice sounded from outside.

Harry whimpered and leaned his forehead against Draco's. Both were breathing heavily.

"You don't get to be mad at me, damn it! Whether you believe it or not, I was helping you, you bloody tosser! Now open this door so that I can yell at your properly!"

Harry sighed and flicked his hand at the door, which promptly swung open.

"Harry-" Ginny stopped speaking abruptly when she saw the two of them on the sofa.

"Can you yell at me tomorrow, Ginny?" Harry couldn't help but smirk at her gaping.

"We'll be busy tomorrow," Draco interrupted.

Harry couldn't help but smirk at the promise in that statement. "Um. Right. Monday then. Maybe. I'll owl you."

Ginny was still staring, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. "Holy shit," she finally managed.

"Right," Harry agreed. "Good night, Ginny."

Another slash of his hand and the door closed in her face, locked, and was warded against sound and intrusion.

"Have I ever told you that that wandless magic is incredibly hot?" Draco asked breathlessly.

"No," Harry admitted, dipping his head to resume the snogging. "Mmn, I'll remember that though," he muttered around Draco's lips.

"Bedroom?" Draco managed to gasp.

"Mmhmm," Harry concurred, managing to apparate them right into his bed without breaking the kiss.

Draco gasped and pulled back to blink around the room in surprise. "Fuck, Potter," he breathed.

Harry grinned, "Oh, there's more where that came from," he promised before capturing those sweet lips once more while he banished both of their clothes.

Ginny was definitely getting a castle. Maybe her own island. And a gold statue in Diagon Alley.

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