Chapter Two

Draco had always considered Terry Boot to be a man of wasted talent. He had intelligence, but too tied up in morals to do anything good with it. He was good looking, but too shy to assert himself. He had a fair bit of money, and nothing to do with it. He had a good sized penis, and yet continued to claim heterosexuality. A clever, rich, pretty boy who was a walking penis with a bad sexual orientation. Clearly, God was half slashed when he made the mould for that one.

"Out of my way, Boot. I'm quite capable of walking the eight steps to my own seat without getting lost," commanded Draco, "My sense of direction is amazing. Some people have even mistaken me for a delivery owl once or twice."

"You're late!" snapped Terry, rustling around in his pocket to produce the same pocket-watch he brandished in Draco's face every time they met.

"Before you get out that tatty heirloom, I know what the time is. I am only willing to explain my tardiness to the Minister himself. Not to his whipping boy," Terry bristled angrily. "Move aside."

After a brief scuffle, Boot led Draco into the VIP box. The box had changed little since the good old times of Victor Krum's victory days, but one thing that had changed was the seating arrangement. Neville Longbottom found it essential that only the correct people sat around him at Quidditch matches. And by 'correct', he meant fanatical fans. If Lucius were still alive, he would certainly have a few choice words to say about this new seating arrangement, and those words would definitely not have been 'go team!'

Thankfully, Draco was a very fanatical fan. Not only did he find all the leather in the Quidditch uniforms sinful on his boyfriend, but he maintained his Seeker instincts from school and the Minister found it delightful to have Draco point out the Snitch whilst the Seekers where performing Wronski Feints at the other end of the pitch.

"Evening Minister," Draco gave a minimalist bow, his spine imitating cement. He stood by the Minister's chair, waiting permission to sit. The first time he had sat without consent, he was given a rather dubious plant at his and Harry's anniversary party and had learnt his lesson after that.

"Oh," Neville broke into a dazed smile, once again flabbergasted by the world as a whole, "So nice for you to join us, Malfoy. I always enjoy your commentary more than the one provided. Do take a seat."

Longbottom gestured to the chair on his immediate right, and Draco sent a smirk to Terry who was still playing usher. He settled himself on the plush seat after checking there was nothing green and prickly seated before him on the cushion.

"You're late, you have missed the mascots," informed Neville, picking up a peanut from the packet he had settled in the cup holder of his seat.

"That's a shame. I have seen England's mascot many a time, but seeing what Argentina can come up with would have provided some entertainment."

"Rabbits."

"Rabbits?" asked Draco, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Neville nodded, "Rabbits." He gave a wild gesture with peanut shells going left, right and centre, "Big rabbits. Many of them. They hopped across the field, spelling out the player's names."

"Sound like cotton-ball hell to me," shrugged Draco, "Bunnies don't really say 'fear my god-like Quidditch skills', do they? More… 'We're randy'."

"Oh!" The Minister's sensibilities seemed to be playing up again. He didn't reply to Draco's comment, but chose to munch on a few more peanuts before asking, "Why are you late?"

"I was doing some research."

"Oh?" Neville turned his gaze away from the empty pitch and fond memories of grass-stained rabbits, to look at Draco with curiosity. As a man of no particular job, any research Draco was conducting must be of worth note. Otherwise…why do it?

"Yes, research." Draco leaned across the arm of his chair and spoke in a low, conspiring voice that drew Longbottom across his own chair to listen in. "What do you know of university, Minister?"

"University? Not much. I know there are some foreign schools that have learning all the way up to the age of twenty one, and those over Age learn F.R.. And some places up north that do them too."

"Oh yes, F.R.. I have often thought about getting my F.R.," Lucius had achieved his Frighteningly Risky Ostentatious Grades, and had passed some of the knowledge unto Draco at a very early age. All Draco was missing was the certificates and attendance. "I wasn't actually thinking about F.R. thought. I was thinking more…plebeian."

"Plebeian?" repeated Neville, in a hushed whisper like he was afraid the Argentinean Minister could understand their conversation.

"Hmm, yes. Muggle University. I have been contemplating it for a while now."

"Oh?" Draco knew Longbottom was intrigued but bloody Boot tapping on his arm drew his attention away. Damn that bloody Ravenclaw. Draco sent a glare to Terry, Terry just sniffed.

"Minister. It's time to start the game."

"What? Oh, yes. Okay. Sonorous! Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcoming to the nine hundred and seventy third game of Quidditch!" The crowds cheered and Draco watched with boredom as many of the spectators stood in a show of magical patriotism while Longbottom made his address. "I hope you all enjoy your evening. Let us get underway. Let the game, begin!"

A flash of lights fell over the players, signalling the beginning of the game as Longbottom muttered a faint 'Finite Incantatum' and resumed his seat. Draco took a moment to look up at the players.

**

Harry rotated his right ankle. Then his left. Then his right again. Finally, the joint clicked and the tightness in his calf ceased. As the referee began the preliminary rant about field etiquette, Harry rotated his left ankle again, his gaze wondering over the crowd. His eyes instantly fixated on the Minister's box, specifically the blonde head bowed down towards the centre figure that could only be Neville.

His left ankle finally clicked and Draco's head lifted to look at him, as if the noise of his bones had called to his attention. As their eyes locked while Neville's voice echoed through the stadium, Harry felt his stomach drop. His stomach always seemed to be falling out the bottom of his feet lately. Each time he looked at Draco, he wanted to cry, he wanted to shout and hide under the bedcovers and ignore the world.

Draco pulled his eyes away from Harry's, and Harry's stomach fell through the soles of his feet and down through the forty foot drop to the bottom of the pitch. Turning his own eyes away, Harry watched the Snitch flutter away from the referee.

**

Draco quickly closed the internet explorer window, and retracted his hands from his underwear. "Potter! They're here!"

"Alright! I'm just drying off. Let them in and make them tea, or something!"

Draco huffed, and stood up. As he walked across the room, he checked that his erection was not too obvious, and opened the front door. Standing on the threshold was the sweetest, most sickly couple Draco ever had the misfortune of knowing. Weasley and his beaver stood tangled in each other's arms, hands in the other's back pocket and identical smiles of contentment. Eww. They stepped inside the flat in a uniformed step, allowing Draco to close the door behind them, effectively trapping himself with the squickiness that was vermin heterosexuals.

"Hey, Ferret," smiled Ron, "Where's Harry?"

"Shush your face," snapped Draco. After a moment, he added, "Harry's just getting out the shower. What do you want to drink?"

"Just some tea please, Draco."

"Tea, too, thanks. One sugar."

Draco went into the kitchen and clicked the kettle on, happy to avoid the smooch fest no doubtedly occurring on his once beloved sofa. Setting out four cups on the counter, he placed teabags in three of them and a three heaped teaspoons of Nescafe in the other one. The kettle built up noise in a steady momentum, drowning out the smacking of lips from the living room. Draco pottered over to the fridge, sniffing all the open bottles of milk. Two sour, one on the way out and one freshly opened. He was tempted to use bad milk in Weasley's tea, but like the time with the Thestral milk, Harry might notice if his best friend suddenly turned lime-green and stopped breathing. Draco grumbled as he poured fresh milk upon the teabags. Damn Weasley, wasting his milk. The kettle popped and Draco poured hot water into the cups, giving his cup the highest tide until the granules turned the water rich brown. Happy that his beverage was superior not only in colour, but taste, Draco carried the cups into the living room, leaving the messy countertop for Harry to clean up later.

**

"Are you kissing?" Harry turned his head and saw Draco standing at the kitchen door, steaming cups in hand, with his eyes clenched shut. "Tell me you're not kissing! I'll be traumatised if you are." Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, who were seated on different sides of the room and just shrugged.

"All clear." Said Harry. Draco cautiously opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping around the room to make sure nobody was making lip-to-lip contact. He smiled at Harry.

"Well done, see you're doing a good job of policing these deviants. Here, I made tea."

Harry accepted the 'world's worst hair' novelty mug from Draco and splayed one arm across the back of the sofa. Once Hermione and Ron had both received their own drinks with a side of sarcasm, Draco settled himself under Harry's arm and snuggled up against his side.

They all sipped tea in silence before Draco prodded Harry in the ribs. Harry looked down at him questioningly, and Draco bobbed his eyebrows meaningfully. Sighing, Harry turned his attention to Hermione. "Hermione?"

"Hmm, yes?"

"Would you be able to help Draco order some prospectuses off the computer?" Say no! Say no! Say you don't know how to use a computer! Say you think that using technology is again SPEW policies! Say you want Draco to stay too! Say NOOO!

"Sure thing." Hermione stood up and walked over to the computer desk. Draco pecked him on the cheek then went and joined Hermione, traitorous Queen of Computers. Harry watched stonily as they booted up the computer and began navigating the internet together.

Turning his eyes away from the stomach-clenching sight, Harry looked right into Ron's sympathetic gaze. It was all too much. "Do you want some wine?" asked Harry, abandoning his tea.

**

Granger may be a Muggle, but no one should be able to type that fast. It was inhuman. Her fingers were practically blurring. Maybe she was trained to do this as a baby… Draco suddenly had the lovely image of a tiny baby nestled in the bush of it's own hair, slapping it's open palms down on a keyboard.

"Right, there are…well," Hermione laughed and pointed to a list on the screen, "a lot of universities. To narrow it down…what course do you want to do?"

"Err…" He knew his brow had crinkled, and hoped that he would not develop wrinkles on his forehead from the unused muscle usage to the rare expression of confusion. "Course?"

"Yeah, like, do you want to do science? Or sports, medicine, history, literature, media, teaching, forensics - "

"Okay, be quiet! I can't think!" snapped Draco. He looked in horror at the long list of subjects written across the site, and almost whimpered. If Malfoys did such things. "I will do…" Draco clenched his eyes shut and jabbed a finger randomly. He opened his eyes and said, "...History."

"Do you even know anything about history?"

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"N-no! I just meant -"

"Well shut your mouth, you silly M -…woman. I got Os in all my NEWTs. Including Binn's class."

"But Muggle history is not the same. They do not have eleven revolts and troll wars…they just have world wars. I mean, do you even know who Hitler is?"

"Of course!" cried Draco, huffing. How ignorant did she think he was.

"Really?" she asked, her voice flat with disbelief.

"Yes. He was the Dark Lord before Voldemort. He went on a Muggle-spree in… nineteen… something…"

Hermione just coughed. "Are you sure you don't want to do another course?"

"Learning from our past will help us foresee the future."

"I'll take that as a yes. Shall I just order prospectuses from every university that does this course, or are you thinking of going somewhere specifically?"

**

"No, order them all. I'll go anywhere."

Harry turned quickly to Ron, and cast for a random subject. "Do you think I should redecorate?"

"It looks fine," replied Ron, casting an eye around the expensive furnishing, hi-tech gadgets and tasteful decorations. He shrugged. "I suppose it could be less…gay."

"Then it's decided," Harry clapped Ron on the back, "Draco, I'm redecorating?"

Draco was clearly too distracted to care, "You're making stuff up! There is not such thing as a 'Jew'! Are they a breed of Mudbloods?" Harry decided not to intervene Hermione's rage because the red handprint on Draco's face was appealingly lickable and the man was in need of a good spanking.

**

"What about English?"

"Eugh - no! Too much writing. I'd get calluses!" Draco indicated with a pout to his index finger.

"Okay then…what about art?"

"Are you serious? I'd get paint under my nails! What if I never got it out? And what if I got it over my expensive silk shirts? Silk is sensitive!"

"Could you get any more gay?" Hermione said more to herself than to Draco, rubbing her forehead in frustration. Draco smiled deviously and turned to look in Harry's direction, who was eyeing up the paintwork with a meticulous glare.

"Harry, pookie! Can I get a miniature poodle and call her Bianca and paint her nails and buy her a diamond collar and an entire wardrobe?" His mouth felt sullied from the camp overtones and he felt like running to the bathroom for toothpaste.

"Sure, whatever you want," Harry pointed to the wall on which the television was mounted, "Do you think I should redecorate in blue? Blue's a nice colour, right?"

Draco turned smugly back to Hermione, crossing his legs in a decidedly effeminate way and smirked congenially at her. She huffed and shoved the keyboard over to him, "Do it yourself, you irritating little pest!"

**

Harry dusted the table for the sixth time and nervously watched Draco clicking away on the computer slowly. Without Hermione's help, the process was taking a lot longer.

"You don't have to go to university, Draco," he offered. The apartment was already quieter somehow, Draco's presence absorbed by the dastardly computer.

"Yes, I do," the blond said adamantly. Where the hell was the 'Q' button?

"Why?"

"To be the best, of course."

"You're already the best, Draco."

Draco scoffed, pressing 'K' because it sounded similar to 'Q' and the person who designed the keyboard clearly didn't know the all the letters of the alphabet, lot alone what order they went in. "You're biased. I shall be the smartest and the best, and I shall be loved by all."

"But a Muggle university, Draco. You won't be able to use magic, and... they are all so far away." The last part was delivered quietly, and Harry continued to systematically beat a sofa-cushion into plump perfection.

"I can live perfectly well without magic, Potter. Are you suggesting I can't?" As usual, ears only turned into the implied challenge, favouring to start at the bright computer screen than even acknowledge Harry's distress.

"I'm sure you can do anything you put your mind to, Draco," Harry said placatingly and gave up, knowing he wasn't going to be able to coax the blonde easily out of his newest obsession that easily. He sighed and picked imaginary lint from the back of the couch.

"This upholstery is looking tatty," Harry commented. "I think I'll replace it. Maybe something in Gryffindor red."

"Hmmm, you do that," said Draco absently. He was just victorious in finding the 'Q' key and was now scrolling back up the page to replace the letter. Bad spelling was unlikely to lead to academic superiority and success.

"What about learning from home?" suggested Harry, one last ditch attempt at selfishness. He wanted Draco to be with him, where he could see him, love and hold him. Do things impossible to be done in a long distance relationship.

Draco pressed enter with a flourish, and an MSN message manifested in the corner of the screen, detailing the new confirmation email to the University of Glasgow littering his inbox. Perfect. "I am not going to dignify that question with an answer."

**

TBC

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay, life is madness! All comments appreciated, I will be answering reviews now that I am out of Exam season. Next chapter soon!