Harry was still in shock when he reached the inn. He showered quickly, thankful that the task was automatic, because his thoughts were whirling. He would be staying at the Manor. Near Malfoy. Or probably not near Malfoy, because with sixteen spare bedrooms, it was likely he would be placed as far from Malfoy as possible. It was probable that Malfoy was even now regretting his decision.

Harry wondered what had prompted him to offer. His excuse that Harry would be able to work longer hours had sounded weak even to Harry's ears. He supposed it was possible that the blond was simply lonely. He knew the elder Malfoys were off on yet another vacation. Harry still met frequently with Ron and Hermione and the Malfoys' antics were a constant topic of conversation for Ron. He seemed to lap up the gossip columns on a regular basis, in the vain hope that something horrific would happen to the former Death Eaters.

Harry sorted through his lone bag and realized he had not a single outfit appropriate for an outing with Draco Malfoy. His clothing consisted of jeans and assorted t-shirts. He had not even brought a button-down.

After biting his lip for a moment, he decided Malfoy could wait a few more minutes while he hurried to the local clothiers. The town was Muggle with a scattering of Wizarding establishments, such as the inn, but for clothing either would suffice. Harry quickly selected a cream coloured cotton shirt flecked with dark brown speckles. It wasn't flashy, but looked slightly more formal than his t-shirts.

Paired with his nicest jeans, he thought he looked acceptable, so he Apparated back to the Manor with his bag in tow. One of the house-elves met him at the door and escorted him to his new quarters, the Black bedroom. Harry had expected a room entirely of black furnishings, morbid upholstery, and possibly ghouls, but he was pleasantly surprised. The place was tastefully furnished in a French provincial style, rife with ornate whitewashed wood and patterned velvet - mostly in shades of deep violet.

"This was Cygnus Black's favourite room," said a voice behind him and Harry covered his startled movement by tossing his bag onto the bed.

"It's very nice," he said politely as he turned toward Malfoy. "Thank you."

Malfoy shrugged. "Are you coming?" His eyes flitted over Harry, but he said nothing. Harry gave a mental sigh of relief, thankful that his attire did not merit derision, at any rate. "You will have to trust me to Side-Along Apparate, unless you know where Benton's Superior Statuary is located."

"I trust you," he said simply and blinked at the look that crossed Malfoy's features. The blond seemed astonished by his words, although it was quickly masked.

Malfoy stepped forward and held out his arm. "I can Apparate through the wards. No need to go outside. Ready?"

Harry nodded and steeled himself as he took a grip on Malfoy's bicep and leaned closer. Before he could take a breath, Malfoy spirited them away.

***

Benton's Superior Statuary was a maze. The place was massive, with statues, fountains, sections of walls, bizarre artworks, garden accents, birdbaths, and things that were completely unidentifiable cluttering up a ludicrous amount of acreage.

As soon as they walked through the front gates, a small wizard appeared with a delighted grin. He was a full foot shorter than Harry and nearly as round as he was tall, wearing robes of garish lemon yellow and a matching top hat. Harry thought he looked like an escapee from a carnival.

"Greetings, lovely customers!" he cried. "I am Samson Benton and I'm..." His happy voice trailed off when he caught sight of Malfoy and his eyes widened. They narrowed quickly and his welcoming smile thinned into a disapproving line. His eyes flicked to Harry and widened again. He stuttered, staring back and forth between the two of them, until he finally relocated his coherency. "Mr Potter!" he bellowed. Harry winced.

Benton dove forward and grabbed his hand to pump it enthusiastically. "How nice to see you! Welcome to my lowly shop. What can I do for you?"

Harry frowned to see Malfoy so firmly snubbed, but Malfoy said nothing and seemed to take it in stride. "Mr Malfoy is here to select a replacement statue for a fountain. I am here to make certain that he is treated like any other customer." For the first time, Harry was glad of his Auror training. The official, almost dangerous, tone of his voice made the colour drain from Benton's face and he looked nervously at Malfoy.

"Of course!" he squeaked. "Welcome, Mr Malfoy. I'm very glad to have your business, of course. Can I get you a cup of tea while you are browsing?"

"Certainly not," Malfoy said, but his eyes were locked with Harry's. "Just direct me to the proper section."

Harry smiled when the man resumed his babbling and waved Malfoy along. Harry trailed after them, admiring the flex of Malfoy's arse as he walked.

***

Draco followed the obsequious Benton, amazed at the man's change of attitude. The canary-clad salesman fairly oozed simpering helpfulness, all thanks to the bloody Saviour. Nevertheless, Draco could feel no animosity for Potter. Even though Benton's change of heart was completely faked, for one shining moment Potter had given Draco back a modicum of the respect he had grown up with. False though it was, Draco had always enjoyed the grovelling, sycophantic behaviour of underlings and salespersons.

"I will call you when I've made my choice," Draco said before long, tiring of the man despite his enjoyment. Fawning was lovely, but only in limited quantities.

Benton glanced at Potter, who must have given a wordless signal, because the man bowed and departed without a word.

Draco wandered through the maze of statuary, pausing now and again. A unicorn caught his eye and he studied it briefly, suddenly transported back in time, recalling the dark Forest, a dead unicorn, a horrific monster, and Harry Potter.

Draco glanced at Potter, who stared up at the horned animal with his brow wrinkled. Was he remembering, as well?

Draco moved on, and laughed at Potter's suggestion to purchase a majestic lion.

"You can think of me every time you see it," Potter insisted.

"If I wanted to think of you, I would purchase the likeness of a horse's arse, Potter." Draco chuckled at his own wit and yelped when Potter's Stinging Hex caught him on the left buttock. "Ouch! Prat!"

"You deserved that," Potter muttered.

Draco snorted and kept looking, although he was slightly more careful with his insults after that.

Draco walked nimbly along the edge of a high wall made of decorative red stone. "Do you have this material in your garden, Potter? It practically screams Gryffindor."

Potter frowned and shaded his eyes to stare up at him. "Will you get down from there? You are going to fall. Do you think you are still seventeen?"

"Hmph. I've been locked up in the damned house for far too long. If I want to walk on the top of a wall, I shall. Besides, I can see better from up here. It will save time." To emphasize his improved ocular abilities due to his increased elevation, Draco stood on his tiptoes - and promptly toppled straight off the wall.

Potter, ever the idiot, tried to catch him rather than casting a spell. Draco landed on him and knocked him flat. He thought that he might have knocked Potter completely out, due to the blue pallor of his face, but a choked gasp told him the breath had simply been forced from the Gryffindor's lungs.

"Breathe, Potter," Draco said worriedly, staring down into Potter's handsome face. His glasses seemed to have flown off somewhere.

"That... might be easier without you crushing me," Potter rasped.

"Crushing you?" Draco repeated huffily. "I beg your pardon. I am not that heavy."

"And what did I tell you about climbing on the wall?" Potter sounded like a chastising parent even though his pained gasps.

"It's your fault I fell. You jinxed me."

Instead of taking offence to Draco's ridiculous comment, Potter's face broke into a grin and then he started to chuckle. "Malfoy, you are a piece of work."

Draco pouted, not sure if Potter had meant the statement as an insult. He debated getting to his feet, but Potter made quite a nice cushion and Draco had never been so close to him before. His lashes were unbelievably long and thick, black as midnight and almost shocking against the green of his pupils.

"You also have very pretty eyes," Potter said, voicing Draco's thoughts, and then Potter fluttered his dark lashes like a lovesick maiden. Draco couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. Potter joined in and they were soon giggling like idiots. Draco felt weak from the effort of holding his head up while laughter shook his frame, so he dropped his face against Potter's neck, feeling a jolt as his lips met bare flesh where Potter's collar pulled away from his throat.

Potter's arms wrapped around him, stifling Draco's amusement completely. He was suddenly hyperaware of Potter's nearness. His senses were flooded with sensation - the warmth of Potter's body, the smell of his hair and his skin, the taste of him against Draco's lips... He realized that his right thigh lay quite suggestively between Potter's legs, and his groin rested firmly atop Potter's hipbone.

Potter's chuckles died out more slowly and time seemed to drag into an infinite loop. The heat of Potter's arms burned against Draco's back, making him alternately want to stay where he was forever, or flee for his life.

"Have you decided to go to sleep, then?" Potter asked lightly. "Was that your ulterior motive for knocking me down? A convenient place to nap?"

Draco snickered again. Damn it all, he had never expected Potter to be funny. Still, disturbing things were beginning to happen to his body, things that would be utterly mortifying should Potter take note of them.

Draco pushed himself away suddenly, breaking Potter's light grip and climbing unsteadily to his feet. Potter blinked up at him and Draco rolled his eyes before bending down to offer him a hand. Potter took it and Draco hauled him to his feet before stooping to recover the Gryffindor's glasses.

Potter grinned at him. "Thanks." He dusted the spectacles by yanking the hem of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, exposing a ludicrous amount of firm abdomen in the process. Draco forced his eyes upward to meet Potter's smirk. "I think you broke my spine," Potter commented.

"Infant," Draco replied as the corners of his mouth twitched.

Potter turned around and gave Draco a view of his arse as he craned his neck around, trying to see behind himself. "See? I'm sure it's bent."

Draco snorted another laugh, and then gave in to another round of amused chuckles. "Something is bent, Potter, but it's not your spine."

Potter pouted at him. Combined with the near-sultry over-the-shoulder look, it almost took Draco's breath away. Dangerous ground, Draco thought. Treading dangerous ground here. Despite his internal warning bells, he stepped forward and began to smack Potter's arse.

"Hey!" Potter yelped.

"You are covered in dirt," Draco explained and finished batting away the clinging twigs and dust from Potter's backside. He told himself he was not at all interested in how Potter's arse felt (nicely firm), nor how it looked (exquisite), but was rather behaving in a friendly manner, and only because he didn't want to be seen in the company of someone so dishevelled. He stepped back and surveyed Potter critically. "I suppose you'll do. Come along, we have many more statues to reject."

It wasn't until he had taken twenty steps that he realized he could have simply cast a Cleaning Charm on the man.

***

Harry followed Malfoy through the maze of statues with a bemused grin on his face. Their interaction since arriving at Benton's had been... surprising. Was Malfoy really so grateful for Harry's chastisement of the irritating clerk that he was willing to act like a normal person, rather than an obnoxious prat?

The thought made him pause. He hadn't realized the extent of the animosity directed toward the Malfoys and other former Death Eaters since the war. Or perhaps he had realized it, he simply hadn't cared. In fact, he had probably considered it their just reward for being on the wrong side.

Seeing Malfoy's behaviour made him feel ashamed of his former vindictive thoughts. If Malfoy was this happy simply to be walking through a statuary shop, he had to have been pent up in the Manor for an unbelievably long time. And where had all of Malfoy's friends gone? Harry had seen Blaise Zabini around the Ministry now and again, but he had never heard a word uttered about the Slytherin's former cohorts.

Malfoy had always seemed like a privileged prince at Hogwarts, holding court over his classmates. Without them, he had to be dreadfully lonely.

Malfoy stopped before the rearing unicorn. "I think I want this one," he said decisively, surprising Harry.

"Really? A unicorn? I thought you would want the dragon, or the manticore."

Malfoy shook his head. "The dragon's wings are too short. And the manticore is too leonine. Tell Benton this is the one I want. Have it shipped to the front gates of the Manor. I assume you will be able to manoeuvre it from there?"

Harry considered the statue and then nodded.

"Good. I would rather not give the delightful Mr Benton access through my wards, even for a moment. I wouldn't want him tainted." He sneered, but Harry was no longer fooled by Malfoy's arrogant exterior. Something had changed, it seemed, something that allowed him to see beneath the sarcasm to the hurt below.

"All right," Harry said quietly. "I'll meet you back there, yeah?"

Malfoy nodded and Disapparated.

~TBC~