IV.

The next morning, Harry decided to make an announcement to his roommates.

"Seamus, Dean, Nev... Ron. I need to tell you something," he said, walking into the bathroom. At the sinks, Neville stopped shaving, Seamus and Dean, in the middle of a soap-throwing fight got one more good toss in each and looked at him. Ron crossed his arms over his chest and flared his nostrils in his direction.

He cleared his throat. "It's probably not going to come as much of a surprise, but I'm gay. Absolutely, one-hundred... well, ninety-five percent queer. And I'm seeing Draco Malfoy, have been for a while now. I kept quiet because... well, for a lot of reasons... because I was waiting for something else"—he sent a hopefully pointed, sad glance towards Ron—"and because I didn't realize it would become so serious. But it has. Draco Malfoy is my boyfriend."

There was silence for three seconds. Then Neville, looking quite adorable with his hair sticking out in every direction and half a face of shaving foam, said, "Bout time, Harry. You two are quite hot together," and went back to shaving.

"Yes, good for you, mate," Dean said and threw a whole bar of soap at Seamus's chest.

"Hey!" Seamus said. "Time-outs, idiot. Anyway, I'm glad you're happy. I mean, you've seemed very happy. Lucky dogs, the both of you."

Harry looked at Ron, who stared at him. "I... you..." he hissed. "Yes, I hope you're so very happy." Ron shucked his trousers and threw the shower curtain closed behind him. Frustratingly, Harry felt himself harden at the sight of Ron's round arse.

The small room was quiet again, except for the sound of rushing water. Again, Neville was the first to speak. "S-sorry, Harry. He's..."

"Yeah," Seamus said. "Ron's a mate and all, but he's being ridiculous and hateful and..."

"If something were to come up, Harry—" Neville started.

And Dean finished, "We'd all stand for you, mate."

An echo of, "Yeah," came from the other boys.

Harry smiled. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot."

Harry showered quickly, wanting to get down to breakfast early and make this announcement to the rest of the school, but found himself stuck in front of his wardrobe. He wanted to look good, needed to look good, he realized as he had a sudden, terrible image of everyone whispering, "But what is that stunning Draco Malfoy doing with him?" And they would be right.

He looked at the zit on his chin, his shapeless clothing, his wretched hair, his—god—his scary bush-man eyebrows. He did not deserve to be seen with Draco Malfoy in public. Draco with all his perfect, creamy skin, firm, toned body, bright grey eyes underneath lovely normal eyebrows.

He was taken out of his trance of self-deprecation with something hitting his stomach. He caught it and looked at the purple bottle, a little dazedly. "What?"

Neville came up to him. "It's hair product. It's really good stuff. You might play with it if you're so worried about your appearance today." Neville smiled.

For the first time in a long while, Harry really looked at Neville. He was much more fit now, something Harry had noticed at the beginning of the year, his skin was clear of previously common break-outs and his clothes fit well in a way they never could before. His hair looked great as well, styled in a chic, chunky way.

He was pleased for Neville of course, and a bit embarrassed that he hadn't noticed sooner, but his prevailing emotion was distress. Even Neville—oh, what a terrible friend was he—looked far, far better than he did. "I wouldn't know what to do with it," he said, glumly.

"Oh, I'll do it," Neville said, pushing Harry down on to his bed, squeezing from the bottle into his hand. Then he started moving his hands through Harry's hair, his face concentrated. The whole process hurt quite a bit and then, without warning, Neville spread something on his forehead, pressed down a white strip and ripped it off.

"Ow!" Harry yelped. "Shit, Neville, what did you just do?"

"I've waxed your eyebrows. Well one eyebrow. Now I have to do the other."

Wax, press, pull. "Ow!"

"Dear, you're all pink." Neville pulled his wand out and said, "Persipitergum!" He smiled. "Now look at yourself."

Harry stood up and, a little afraid, turned towards the mirror. Wow. "Wow, Nev..."

He looked good. His hair, although still a great mess, looked a good deal more intentional and, he noticed as he shook his head, it didn't move. The shaping of his eyebrows had not only taken away that upsetting caveman look he'd had, but brightened his face, made his eyes even greener. Then he noticed his chin again. "But I have a zit!"

"Well, who knew you'd turn into such a princess. That's not a zit." Neville grabbed hold of his jaw and pinched at the pimple. "There. No more zit. You're now officially creepy, god-like gorgeous. Oh, that's disgusting: I have your skin underneath my fingernails. Excuse me, I have to scrub my hands."

And suddenly, an epiphany. He followed Neville into the bathroom. "Neville! You're gay!"

Seamus, Dean, and Neville, especially hard, exploded with laughter. "Yes, Harry."

Harry left the bathroom flushed red. He got dressed, just tightening his tie when Neville came out of the bathroom. "What you should do is wear Dean's uniform. He's as tall as you and skinny as a bean-pole." Dean gave an offended shout from the toilet. Neville tossed some trousers to him. As he checked out his bum in the mirror, Neville nodded. "Yes, Malfoy seeing you like this is sure to create a great snogging in the middle of the Great Hall."

Ron had a great trip and hit his head on his bedside table. Harry smiled.

As it happened, Neville was quite right. They'd planned it that Draco would meet him at the doors into the Hall and there he was as Harry walked down the stairs. Draco looked up and Harry watched his face slacken into something similar to the fish expression, but much more dignified and hot. He licked his lips and of course, Harry was hard again.

Close to him, Harry grabbed both Draco's hands and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "I look good, don't I?"

Draco stepped a little closer to him, pressing his cock into Harry's thigh. "You look amazing." A little closer still and Draco took his earlobe into his mouth, then whispered, "And I'm sure Ron thinks so, too. Very good plan."

Ron. Oh yes, Ron. Yes, he probably did think so too. Yes, it was a good plan. Good job, Harry. He patted himself on the back.

Draco ran his hands through Harry's hair—or tired to. "Oh, but this hair thing is silly. It's all stiff—I hate that. And it's always looked very good. At least use wizard's hair cream. Where did you even get this muggle stuff?"

"Neville gave it to me."

"Ah. That makes sense." Mmm, Draco's fingers, just lightly on the back of his neck.

"Why—" He swallowed, tried to focus. "Why does that make sense?"

"That muggle boy he was seeing last year would have—"

"What?" Harry screeched. "He was seeing—and you knew?"

"Yes, you poor thing. Everyone knew. I'm sure you were just too busy with fighting dark wizards to notice."

"I feel bad, though. Neville's my mate and—"

"Quite dishy now, isn't he?"

"You fancy Neville!"

"God no, Blaise would kill me."

"Blaise fan—"

Draco covered his mouth with one hand. "Shhh! That's not one that everybody knows."

There was a tickling at the back of his head that told him to ask more about Neville's clandestine muggle affair and what other things he must have missed the year before, but... Draco's hands were trailing under his robes and he smelled like rain.

Nodding at nothing, Harry's eyes trailed to Draco's bottom lip, still wet from Draco's tongue, and licked it with his own tongue. Draco made a sound, torn from his throat and they were kissing. They broke apart for breath and Harry found that he'd pressed Draco up against the wall and pulled Draco's shirt from his trousers.

"Not a secret anymore, then, Draco?" Millicent Bulstrode said, smiling as she passed.

Harry turned to look at her and noticed a great crowd had formed around them. They quickly started to dissipate and when Harry looked back he saw that Draco was sending a fine glare at them. He felt Draco's arms tighten around him and he felt pleasure deep into his stomach. Possessive behaviour, act or no, was entirely hot.

Parvati nudged him as she walked past with her sister. "Congratulations, Harry. It's very sweet."

"Very sweet," said Padma.

A moment later, Terry Boot passed and said, "Guess I'll have to stop flirting with you now, eh?"

Harry gaped. "He doesn't flirt with me! He's not gay!"

Draco chuckled, kissed him on the cheek and let him go, taking his hand and moving them towards the doors again. "Did you think we were the only ones? And of course he does. Most people do, sweetheart, it's just that not everyone plays footsie with you in the bath."

"Well, I don't understand why I don't know anything." Draco just squeezed his hand and gave him a little smile, a private smile, that made Harry feel – there was no other way to say it – special.

He walked Harry to the Gryffindor table and kissed him before he went on his way towards Slytherin. Harry giggled, then realized how ridiculous that sounded, then realized it was a good reinforcer that he and Draco were really so in love.

"So sweet," Parvati said again.

"So hot." This came from Lavender and the five other girls around her nodded furiously.

"Honestly," Hermione said as she sat down next to him. "They're all being ridiculous. But there, you see? We all love you."

Ron slammed his fist onto the table. "I don't love him!"

Harry grinned and heard Draco laugh from across the Hall. Ron stuffed a sausage in his mouth and it happened again.

//

The next week went splendidly. Crabbe came up to him and said, "So. We're cool now too, okay? I mean not that cool. But cool that you and Draco are that cool. Just so you know." Students they barely recognized starting giving Harry and Draco gifts. It was mostly candy and little things from Zonko's, but a blushing fourth year Ravenclaw called Pippa Little gave them a butter dish and second year Simon Walsh presented a little basket with a melon baller and a cantaloupe, "So you can use it!" It was as if they'd been married and everyone wanted to help them build their household.

The only disappointment was that, despite his new plan, Ron did nothing.

As he packed to leave for Christmas holiday, Harry realized that he had no idea what he expected to Ron to do. That he'd become so overcome with jealousy that he'd stand up on the High Table and declare his everlasting love for Harry Potter? Ideally, yes, he decided, but what was supposed to happen before then? Nothing? Just little bouts of angry staring from Ron and wide-eyed responses from Harry? Maybe.

Harry jumped as a voice came from behind him. "I've accepted you're gay." It was Ron.

Harry felt his body stiffen as he turned to look at him. Oh—Ron was fresh from a bath, still wet, just a towel around his waist. Honeysuckle smell surrounded him. Harry cleared his throat and promptly turned back around. "Good."

Although his advance was silent, Harry knew Ron was directly behind him from the added heat right against his back. "I don't know if I buy Draco, though."

Anger rushed through him. "You don't have to buy him. He's come free of charge... and free of baggage."

"Defensive, Harry. No, I can see that you like him." Without warning, Ron's hand came around him, underneath his sweater, but still on top of his shirt, warm and wet. Ron's mouth was right by his ear as he whispered, "You remember, though, don't you? You and me."

One finger found its way between two buttons of Harry's shirt and circled his bellybutton. He swallowed down the noise in his throat, clenched his hands around the side of his trunk. "I remember we never got as close as we are right now."

"No. But I still held your cock, didn't I, Harry? It was so heavy in my hand. I still think about it at night..."

This time swallowing only made the sound come out strangled, desperate.

Ron laughed. The sound was smug. "So I thought." He pulled away and Harry shivered. "Sorry you're not coming to the Burrow tomorrow. Everyone will miss you."

He started to walk back towards the bathroom, but Harry grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. Anger and arousal battled through his body, making him shake—when had Ron become so conniving? "So you thought! So I thought, Ron Weasley. You're a coward," he said and kissed him, hard so he could feel their teeth pressed into their lips, cutting. "Yes, Ron. I love you. What are you going to do about it?"

Ron looked at him, concentrating, deliberating, and apparently deciding that what he was going to do about it was to take a step away and then another.

"Predictable, that's what you are. Run away, Ron. Run!"

Looking like he might cry – a perverse part of Harry was glad; he had cried so much over Ron – Ron followed Harry's advice and, stopping for barely five seconds to grab some clothes from his trunk, ran from the room.

Harry knew that this was an important development and he had to tell Draco, but later that night, when they were alone together in their room, Harry found himself nervous to bring it up. They were laid out on separate couches, Draco reading one of the books in The Chronicles of Narnia, a ratty paperback Harry had snatched from Hermione and Harry simply staring at the ceiling, chewing at his cuticles.

Draco laid the book on his chest, marking his place with two fingers, and looked at him. "That's a new habit. What a horrible thing to start, Harry."

He forced himself to lay his arms at his sides, but his middle finger was back in his mouth just a few seconds later.

Draco sat up. "What's wrong with you?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak. When nothing came out, he cleared his throat and tried again. "I—well. I saw—I had an encounter with Ron today."

"You did! What happened?"

Harry rubbed his face hard with the balls of his hands. "He... well, I was packing, alright? And then Ron comes in, just out of the bath, rather wet and with this little washcloth around his waist and... he says, 'Okay you're gay, but you don't want Malfoy, you want me, remember my hands' and he's right up against me, touching my stomach, and I bloody whimper and then he's all smug like he's won something and I'm so pissed at him so I grab him and I kiss him—"

"You kissed him," Draco said and when Harry looked at him, he realized something was wrong. Draco's hands were clenched and there was a horrible wrinkle between his eyebrows. "Of course you did. You love him."

"Er... yes, kissed him. Oh, and I called him a coward and he absolutely ran from the room."

Draco stood up abruptly and turned and walked away from Harry. "Well, this is great news for you, isn't it? He's affected and he practically admitted he wants to be with you and he touched you and... great. Really great. Oh, it must be nine by now, mustn't it? I haven't packed at all and the train leaves at eight tomorrow, you know, so... better go."

By the time Harry thought to respond, the door was shut behind Draco. What had just happened? Harry looked around the room and the Narnia book was still on Draco's couch. With nothing to do alone in the room, Harry grabbed the book and walked into the hallway. Then he was in the hallway and he scuffed his heals against the ground and wondered why he didn't know what to do.

He should really just go to the common room and hang around with his friends—he wouldn't see them for another two weeks, after all. Ron would be playing chess with Seamus and he could sit with Hermione and watch him, pretend to study. Yeah, good. Harry walked two metres to his right and then stopped again and looked behind him.

Down the other way was the Slytherin dormitories. Perhaps he should go see what was wrong with Draco although he obviously didn't want to be with Harry. Another metre forward and he stopped again. Well, he was worried, wasn't he? Might as well go take care of the worry so he could sleep that night. Unfinished business with Draco always kept him awake.

Harry turned around and headed for the Slytherin common room. "Idée lumineuse," he said to the wall and walked in, completely unprepared for what he saw.

Draco was trying to crawl into Blaise's body through his mouth, or perhaps by ripping through his skin, starting with his shirt, the buttons popped off around them on the couch. That was the only explanation.

Or perhaps they were snogging, but this idea gave Harry such an aching stomach ache that he thought it wasn't really possible. But as Blaise gave a ferocious moan, Harry realized it was more than possible. It was true.

Right. Good. Nothing wrong with Draco, no need to stick around, Harry thought as he did his best to walk at a normal pace from the room. But he was out of breath from running by the time he got to the Fat Lady.

"Oh my!" she said. "You're crying, dear. What's wrong?"

"I am?" Harry reached up to his face and indeed he was. "It's nothing, I'm being an idiot."

And he truly was being an idiot. Draco had every right to kiss anybody he wanted. Of course he did. He wasn't committed to anybody.

It was this show they were putting on for Ron's affections that was causing all the trouble. It was confusing him, screwing up what was real and what wasn't. Besides, he'd been jealous of Ron and Hermione's other friends before... this was really no different. He only wanted to be the most important boy in Draco's life because Draco was the most important in his (except Ron, of course). He'd seen so little of Draco with other people that he didn't know how to reaction his kissing—oh, kissing. Draco arching up into Blaise, Blaise's tongue on Draco's perfect lips... he felt sick again and now he was thinking in circles.

He composed himself, pressing too hard against his eyes and said the password. Looking around at everyone, Harry realized he needed to be alone to brood and went right up to bed. He didn't fall asleep for a very long time.

//

The train ride to King's Cross Station might have been the most miserable experience of Harry's life.

Light was breaking out his window as Harry finally got to sleep, so of course he slept late. Draco woke him up and he barely had time to get to Hogsmeade let alone do his hair or anything, so he was sure the entire ride that he looked like a banshee with short, sticking-up hair. Then, from the very start, Draco and Hermione had important Head People business to attend to and Harry was left alone in their compartment. He was tired, but started feeling sick every time he closed his eyes, so he slouched in his seat, at once both missing Draco and wishing he could hit him for wanting Blaise Zabini more than Harry.

Once Hermione and Draco came back, things got worse. Hermione declared she was exhausted and lay down on one of the seats, forcing Draco to sit next to Harry and forcing them to sustain conversation between themselves or stay silent.

They opted for silence. It would seem that they were ignoring each other, but Harry couldn't manage to focus on anything but Draco. Below the sound of the rushing wheels and Hermione's light snoring, he could hear him breathing. He could feel the heat of his body, leaving Harry's left side cold. He could smell Draco's soap and the usual spicy plums.

And with every passing second, Harry felt himself growing more and more hysterical. Would they never speak again? Would they even be able to stand each other's company long enough for Harry to give Draco Hermione's book back—would Draco even get to finish the book! Was this the end? And if it was, what were they ending? Their friendship?—Because Draco snogged Blaise Zabini? Why was he so upset anyway and why was Draco so upset with him? What were they going to do over the holiday? Oh god! He was meeting Draco's mother!

"So, are you dating Blaise now?" he said in a rush, unaware he'd even been wondering.

"No!" Draco yelled. Hermione groaned a little and moved in her sleep. They turned to each other and both went to reach for the other, then pulled back. "I'm sor—well. We never defined the rules... I know everyone's supposed to think we're dating, but Blaise still does think that! I only told him we'd had a fight and played on Neville's not—was I not allowed to be with anybody else?"

"No, no, of course not. If you like Blaise—"

Draco groaned and hit his head on the back of the seat. "I don't like Blaise."

Then why were you snogging him? Harry's brain shrieked. "Well... I mean, if you like anybody. Of course you'd want to be with him. I don't want to stop you from being happy, of course I don't... It was just a surprise, I suppose."

Draco gave a small smile. "Harry... I am happy. No need to worry about that, I just... when you said... are you getting a bit... befuddled about this, as I am? Like... confusing the show with real life?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I mean, we're practically dating, spending so much time together and—"

"All the sex."

"Exactly. It's just that it's meant to end and I'm in love with someone else."

Draco leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Yes, Ron," he said and then muttered something that might have included "mad" or "bad," "idea" or "tortilla."

"Are we going to be okay?"

Draco took a deep breath and smiled at him. "Of course we are. You're my best mate. I need you."

In one smooth motion, Harry was straddled on Draco's lap. "You're my best mate too, you know?" He rubbed his nose against Draco's. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

They kissed and Harry relaxed against him. They stayed that way until Harry jumped up and said, "Oh hell! I'm meeting your parents in an hour! And I look like a banshee!"

Laughing, Draco took his hand and led him out of the compartment. "You look nothing like a banshee. I say we go wash your face and have a bit of a snog in the bathroom."

No, it seemed losing Sirius and the Final Battle with Voldemort were tied for most miserable once again.

//

It was an unexpectedly beautiful day in London when they arrived, but Harry didn't notice. He felt like his heart was going to beat its way out of his chest or into his stomach so he vomited all over Narcissa Malfoy.

"Harry." It was Draco's voice, but he was so far away. "Harry! You're not breathing."

Wasn't he? Oh. Nope. Harry gasped and felt dizzy, tripping down the step as he walked out the train exit. Draco caught him and started petting his hair. "Harry, it's only my parents—"

"Only! Only your parents?" Harry gripped Draco's hand and didn't blink. "Draco, your father wanted to kill me a year ago and carries a big cane and your mother has cheekbones like Aphrodite wanted to make men weep and fingernails sharpened into points! Of course I don't buy all that pureblood crap, but Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy walk into a room and it seems ridiculous that anyone can share the same air."

There was a strange choking noise and Harry realized Draco was trying not to laugh, the prick. He took on his very most menacing glare. Draco snorted and the shock of this made him calm down. "I know they've a very intimidating face, but they're just people underneath. You like me, don't you? I got my charm and sweet disposition from somewhere."

Oh, the liar! "That didn't even make any sense. Oh, there's our trunks. Where are carts? Terry Boot spent forty-five minutes in the bathroom during Transfiguration – don't pretend that wasn't you."

Draco gave a little wave of the hand. "I was only defending my territory. He was flirting with you again. I can't just let him do it, can I?"

"He wasn't—"

"Of course he was. Oh, there's Mummy and Dad." Draco pointed. "They've carts. Hello, Mum!" Harry looked and he felt sick again. The Malfoys really were a frighteningly attractive family. Lucius looked impeccable in dark green robes and Narcissa was stunning in a long shimmery silver-blue dress, her hair in a perfect pile of waves on her head and her breasts flawless cream.

"Draco!" he hissed. "Look at your mother's—bosom."

"That's disgusting! But they are magnificent breasts." A pause and Draco snapped his fingers in front of Harry's face. "Do try not to stare, please, Harry."

Harry squeezed Draco's arm reassuringly and then ripped his hand away. "Oh, do they know? Do your parents think we're dating?"

"No, I didn't—"

And then Lucius and Narcissa were upon them. Lucius smiled broadly and came around his cart to hug Draco. "Here's my son."

Narcissa gave her own wide smile and went to Harry. "And his lovely boyfriend." She held his face between her hands and kissed his cheek. She smelled quite like plums, as well. "Hello, Harry. I'm so glad you decided to join us for Christmas."

In perfect understanding of the other's movements, husband and wife switched places. Harry became painfully tense and jerkily raised his hand to shake with Lucius. But this only made the older Malfoy laugh as he wrapped a gentle arm around Harry's shoulders. "It occurred to me you would be quite right for Draco"—it seemed that had occurred to everyone who knew them—"and I'm glad to see Draco so pink."

Pink? Draco laughed uncomfortably. "Dad can read auras."

"Yes, yes," Lucius said. Was that modesty? Harry's surprise made him forget to ask what a pink aura meant. "Come, lets get your trunks."

"I hope you left lots of room Harry—oh, never mind. You need a new trunk, too, don't you?" Narcissa said, rubbing the back of Draco's neck. It was sweet to see her so affectionate with him. "We're here in London until Tuesday and we're going to spend a lot of money."

"You see, I told you," Draco said, smiling.

Lucius chuckled. "Perfectly pink."

Harry remembered to ask him what it meant again, but this time Molly Weasley interrupted him. Draco took two steps toward him and gracefully wrapped his arm around Harry's waist. Mrs. Weasley bridled and gave a horrible wrinkle of her nose.

To his right, Lucius stomped his cane. His lip was curled and his eyes were just barely squinted. This was the first time Harry had been intimidated by the man that morning, but he certainly was intimidating now. In defence of his family. It was very noble.

Mrs Weasley smiled too big and said too loudly, "So lovely to see you, Harry. We're all very sad to see you've changed... your plans. If you need anything, though, the Burrow is always there for you, you know."

Harry knew he was looking at his future mother-in-law, at the woman who had been his mother in spirit for six years, but there was no way to stop his saying, "I'm sure I won't need anything from you." He wrapped his arm around Draco's shoulder and Draco leaned his head into the crook of Harry's neck.

The smile widened even more. "Of course, Harry. Have a happy Christmas," he said and walked away.

Ron stared at him for a moment before following his mother and then there was just Ginny, staring at her hands clenching her cart. "Er. Bye, Harry. Bye—Draco. Er, bye, Mr and Mrs Malfoy. Happy Christmas. See you at school." Lucius and Narcissa responded politely and appropriately, but Harry and Draco were struck dumb.

As she spoke, Ginny's gaze moved from her hands to each person in jerky movements. She stood there silently for a moment more and when Harry finally thought to wish her a happy Christmas as well, she started again, "I really... I'm sor—well. Yes, happy Christmas. Bye."

Harry and Draco called goodbyes and good wishes after her as she hurried to her mother and Mrs Weasley sent a glare back at them as the three went through the wall out into King's Cross.

Draco kissed his cheek and Lucius helped load their bags on to the carts and they walked toward the wall.

As he watched Draco smile at something funny from Narcissa, a thought came to mind and left again without Harry noticing: no, he really didn't need anything else.

//

Before this holiday, Harry had only ever owned one pair of jeans at a time. Only after Sunday, he had seven and at the end of the week, he owned fourteen. Fourteen different pairs of denim trousers.

"Draco," he called to Draco as he packed them into a beautiful new set of trunks Narcissa insisted on buying, "do you know I have fourteen pairs of jeans now?"

"Yes, I know," Draco said, after spitting out toothpaste. "I'm sorry. We'll go shopping again at Easter."

While in London, they stayed at a very modern penthouse in the West End. He and Draco slept in the biggest bed he'd ever seen, suspended from the ceiling with silk black and white sheets. When Harry first saw it, the worry that Draco would use it as an excuse to sleep away from him possessed him. Of course it was for nothing, Harry falling asleep with Draco's arm around him and waking up with Draco on top of him.

Coming out of the bathroom in low-riding white cotton bottoms, Draco said, "So, I thought since this is our last night in London, we might do something special."

"Can you fold coats?" Harry said, holding up one of six new pieces of outerwear.

Draco flung himself on to the bed and it swung a little back and forth. "Don't be ridiculous. You put it on a hanger and hang it in that trunk there. It stands upright."

"Right. Well, yes, something special sounds great. What were you thinking of?"

"Turn right at the front entrance of this building and take the next corner and you're in SoHo, so I thought... a gay club. When I first came out, Dad insisted he take me and I've blocked all memory of that, so you've never been and I've never been and it seems like one of those basic gay things. Drinking and rubbing and looking and such."

It sounded very good to Harry. Rubbing and looking. Harry lay down next to Draco. "Brilliant. I certainly have the right clothes to wear."

Draco kissed him thoroughly, his tongue sweet and minty. "And I certainly have the right hands to peal them off you."

"And teeth."

They dressed – Draco had the right hands to help him with that, too – and went to say goodbye to Draco's parents. They were sitting on a couch in the living room, reading different parts of the Prophet. Narcissa's feet were on Lucius's lap and he was absently playing with the end of her nightgown. Harry smiled. He'd grown very affectionate of them. The more time he spent with them, the more they seemed a stereotype of the average family.

"We're going dancing," Draco said.

"Some anonymous sex and orgies, I assume?"

"Mum!" Draco gasped. Harry laughed.

"Oh, Draco darling, it's not so bad. Harry, you know when Lucius and I were younger—"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Younger? Like last week, you mean, you pervy—"

"He's right, dear," Lucius said and they shared a smiled. "It's rather inappropriate. But boys, are you sure you want to go alone? I could apparate to the Manor, get my leather—"

Harry couldn't help but laugh, but in an effort to save Draco's skin from melting away from blushing, he said, "No need. We're just going to go."

"Only wanted to say goodnight, loving parents. Goodnight!"

Lucius and Narcissa gave little waves goodbye as the lift doors closed and Draco groaned and fell back against the walls. "They've done that all along of course, thinking it would mortify me because that's so cute or something but it only works when someone I—care about is around and I loathe that they know that now."

"They've never been around someone you care about before?"

"Well, no. Not, er—" Draco coughed into his shoulder. "Not like this."

This made Harry feel ridiculously good. In your face, Blaise Zabini. Not that Blaise wanted Draco, of course, incredible idiot that he was. "So what club are we going to?"

"It's called Utopia and it's incredibly popular. Membership only and there's still no guarantee you'll get through the door. Hot men when I went there with Dad, but it was so awkward and so intense anyway that I don't remember it very well. It's right around the corner. Mum and Dad are so funny." He laughed. "They insisted on moving the penthouse so that I'd have 'access to all the gay atmosphere possible.' They went mad at the beginning that they were stifling me with heterosexuality... as if they weren't the most sexually liberated parents ever already."

"You just moved the whole flat?"

"Sure. We could put it at the top of any tall building. Honestly, that's the only reason it's a penthouse. Muggles don't even know it's there. Miss the button on the lift like they miss the door into the Leaky Cauldron. Rode up with a bloke once and he pressed his floor and I pressed mine and he looked at the board and said, 'You're on tenth floor too, are you?'"

"Isn't that funny. Your parents are funny, too. I really like them." He sighed and leaned against the wall next to Draco.

"Oh hell, is all this family activity making you feel more like an orphan? Oh, hell! That came out very callous. Good thing we're going out for sex. My mouth occupied and all that."

Harry grabbed Draco's hand and leaned on his shoulder a little. "You're silly. All this family activity is making me feel less like an orphan, I promise. Still pleased that sex is on the horizon, though."

"Good." Draco squeezed his hand. "Mum mentioned at she wanted to make you feel as accepted as possible, as part of the family. Because you are, she said. I'm actually a little nervous about telling her the truth of it all, actually."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. Draco seemed to approve of this and they walked out of the building and into the line in front of the club in silence. It was only then, surrounded by fifty chatting gay men, that it seemed like they should talk again, but they were saved the trouble by a muscular black man walking down the line and picking out a few guys to go into the club.

He looked Draco up and down and gestured forward. Draco grabbed Harry's hand and raised an eyebrow. The man laughed and patted Harry's ass and into the club they went. Inside the door there was a coat check and then a thin, steep, black stairway, blue light and techno music presenting the way up. Nearly naked men groped each other up the stairs, blocking what little room there was to move. Harry might have been propositioned four times.

On the main floor, to one side there were toilets and to the other there was... a sex room it seemed from the sex going on inside it. They moved on to the dance floor where the music volume was almost painful and Harry was pressed up against a few strangers no matter where they moved.

Taking a deep breath – the scent of sweat and alcohol was almost overwhelming, but Harry could still make out Draco's soap – Harry threw his head back and laughed. Draco leaned in close to him and shouted, "Are you happy?"

Harry licked Draco's earlobe in thanks and shouted back, "This is amazing!"

They danced – if you considered moving your hips and your shoulders a little bit dancing and Harry did – for probably three or four songs although it was hard to tell when songs changed or pay attention to the music regardless and then Draco pointed toward the bar. Harry nodded and let Draco lead him by the hand to the long counter covering one wall. Draco ordered two Cosmos.

"What's a Cosmo?" Harry shouted, before realizing that it was a lot easier to hear at the bar. His ears were starting to buzz.

Draco laughed. "It's a Vodka cocktail. First thing Mum did when I came out was make me one – said I deserved some hard alcohol because I'd just become a man and that Cosmopolitans are the gayest drink ever. But they're actually really good, so it's my drink now, I guess. When I'm around Muggles, anyway."

"You and your parents spend more time with Muggles than I would have expected, shopping at Harrods and eating at Mirabelle and all that."

Their drinks came and the bartender gave Draco a long once-over. Harry could feel little shots of jealously rushing through him, but he did his best to just put that away.

"Oh, they have their uses," Draco said, smirking. "We always have spent quite a bit of time around Muggles. Until I was about nine—I guess that's when Voldemort got all stuck on Quirrell—and we hand to lay low, not do anything outside the wizarding world. Mum was desolate, threw herself into correspondence."

Harry sipped his drink. It tasted like especially bitter cranberries, but he liked it. "I approve."

Draco smiled. "Oh good. You look very good tonight, by the—" He was interrupted by a young guy with golden good looks walking past them and running his hand down Draco's side, looking back and smiling. Draco waved him off, but said, "He was fit," with a sexy bite on the "t."

"He was very fit." Harry gripped the stem of his glass. "Loads of guys are checking you out—"

With an eye roll, "Yes, and you're horribly lacking attention."

"And—" but then Draco's words registered and Harry looked around, surprised. Oh, yes, he was being checked out. He blinked and then remembered what he'd been saying. "Loads of hot guys and you know we're not actually attached, so..." Harry felt heat down his neck at how harsh those words sounded. He cleared his throat. "I say go for it. I won't because... well, Ron, you know, but... you don't get to London very much, so why not—"

A little wrinkle between his eyes, Draco stared at Harry, trying to figure something out. "Alright. I'll just go dance with that gorgeous chap there. See you." His back very tense, Draco went back out to the dance floor and effectively wrapped himself around a guy that was perhaps Italian, perhaps Greek, but definitely, definitely just wretched and—

Harry finished the rest of his drink in one swallow and then gestured for another round, although he didn't touch his glass for the rest of the night.

Well, that bloke was very fast, wasn't he? His hands were already down the back of Draco's trousers, giving his arse a little rub. And Draco didn't seem to mind by the way he was kissing—god, kissing! What was he doing kissing a bloke he didn't know at all? Inner Hermione came and gave his brain a little flick and he took a deep breath. The Italian bloke had every right to touch every bit of Draco's smooth, perfect skin and Draco had every right to enjoy it, kiss him, go and fuck him in that sex room at the top of the stairs. Oh, and Draco probably would too, just go act like a big—

Oh hell. Harry wanted to kick himself in the mouth for the word that he nearly thought. He was acting like a big brutish bastard. It was his idea that Draco do this and it was a very good idea. Draco was an uninvolved, gorgeous gay boy. He was exactly the person to experiment while he was young.

But there they were going, off to the sex room! Draco was really going to do it! He was going to go off with that stranger and take off his pants for him and perhaps put the condom on the Italian's dick himself—Harry's brain shut down for two seconds and then slowly started again in a horrible red haze.

Would Draco actually let that bloke fuck him? Would he let his first time be in a sex room in a gay club with some Italian? So casual? Then it occurred to Harry that perhaps it wasn't his first time. Perhaps he'd had lots of cocks inside him before and... the anger dissipated and Harry was left cold in the sweaty room, his stomach gone off somewhere.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the bright purple of the bartender's shirt behind him. A warm hand came down on his shoulder and he shivered. "Ay, mate," said the bartender. "You know, promiscuous sex isn't for every relationship. Sometimes... you love somebody so much that you need to keep them to yourself. It's okay to tell him that."

Harry shook his head, looking in the bartender's face, but not seeing him. "We're not dating. He's just a friend. I'm in love with someone else."

The bartender gave him a small smile. His mouth was a lot like Draco's. "Right. Well, you might want to tell your friend that you have a problem with his having other men in front of you, then."

"I shouldn't have a problem—"

Then there was another hand on his shoulder and he was whipped around. Draco was in front of him, looking livid. "Well, I have a problem," he said. "I know we're not together and I know you're in love with Ron and I know we gays are supposed to have lots of sex all over the place, but I came to this club to spend time with you—I asked you on this holiday to be with you! So, I say we go dance and take this experience and go home and enjoy that stupid bed one more time before we're back at the Manor my mother goes Christmas Nazi on us. What do you think?"

Harry felt joy like shots of light rush through his body. He slipped off the stool and into Draco's arms. He tasted like mint and smelled like himself and felt like smooth perfection. Draco giggled into his mouth and ran the tip of his nose down Harry's cheek. "They have mouthwash in the toilets."

Harry pushed them into the mob of dancers, never breaking Draco's gaze and they stayed that way until Harry's shirt was heavy wet with sweat and half the clientele had gone home.

He was dizzy when they finally left and gripped the railing all the way down the stairs. A shock of reality came in the form of the pouring rain outside.

"Should we get a cab?" Harry said, pulling on his jacket. It felt disgusting against his shirt. "We're already soaking wet."

"Let's walk. It's really not that cold out—" It wasn't. Especially considering it was the end of December, it was a very warm rain. The weather their entire time there had been uncharacteristically beautiful. "And the sky is so clear."

Draco took his hand and they moved through the rain, that dazedness from dancing coming back to him. All the colour around them morphed into a wet impressionist painting and he could barely feel his feet touch the ground. At the front of their building, Draco stopped and started spinning around in circles, looking up to the sky and stretching his arms out.

His leather jacket was ruined, his hair was sticking to the sides of his face and he lost his balance a few times, but Harry had never seen anything so pure, so vibrant, so beautiful in his life.

Draco stopped moving and looked at Harry, grinning, laughing and looking at him as if Harry was the one with something so amazing inside him.

Two steps and Draco was in his arms, legs around his waist, hands in his hair, into the building, slammed up against the wall of the lift, stabbing at the top buttons with his foot, hoping they got to the penthouse at the end. A bell and Draco murmured against his mouth, "Here, Harry, darling, home," and they stumbled out of the flat and then into their bedroom, kicking off shoes, pulling off clothes, nearly falling down, but somehow making it to the bed.

"Inside me, Draco." Draco pulled away and looked at him wide-eyed. So beautiful. Harry groaned and pulled him back down for another taste. "I want you to fuck me and then I want to fuck you—be inside you, connected to you, a part of you."

"Always," Draco whispered and Harry could feel his tongue everywhere: in his mouth, on his neck, down his cheek, on his chest. Harry rubbed up against him, unable to get his brain to focus enough to change positions into something more fitting or speak again.

Draco reached between them – Harry could feel his fingertips down his stomach – and grabbed Harry's cock. This was certainly not the first time he'd done this, but the skin was so sensitive, his reaction so severe, that it was as if it was. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and begged anything powerful listening that he didn't come before they even started. "Harry," Draco said and he looked at him. The other boy was so incredibly beautiful, wet and open against black silk, that Harry could barely breathe. "Do we need a condom?"

"I—I don't—I can't have anything—" Draco nodded and smiled into his neck, squeezing Harry to him.

"It's my first time, too." Oh, that went straight to his cock and he screamed out, a shock of pleasure all through his body.

A murmured lubrication spell – Harry had memorized all three – but he couldn't remember which one it was or who said it. Then he said, "Up on your knees. You can—you can sit on my cock, make it go at a comfortable speed."

Nodding, he did as he was told. He knew there would be pain, vaguely, and made an attempt at first to move down slowly, but there was an angry aching in his gut, desperate to be filled and he took most of the rest of his cock all at once. Draco shouted and gripped the sheets desperately, the veins in his arms showing all the way up to his shoulders. Harry moved, then, mindlessly, the pleasure overtaking him, Draco's pleasure, Draco's beauty overtaking him until there was nothing but feeling, inside, outside, pure and fierce.

Harry felt himself come, but continued to move up and down. When he felt a hot splash of Draco's orgasm inside him, he realized he'd become hard again and come one more time along with him. Gasping, Harry pulled off of Draco, then whimpering a little at the loss, laid down on top of him.

Draco started to laugh and then and Harry smiled into his chest until the sound got a little strangled. Looking up, he saw that Draco was crying, tears down already damp skin. "Draco!" Harry ran his hands down Draco's cheeks, over his eyes, followed them with his mouth and then kissed him as carefully as he could. But this only seemed to make it worse. Draco pushed Harry off him and sat up, knees to his chest and his arms wrapped tight around himself.

"Draco..." Harry pressed a hand to Draco's back, shaking with his sobbing. Harry was terrified. This was not the way this was supposed to end. What had he done? What could he do to fix it?

Gasping in a breath, Draco said, "I—I—I'm sorry, Harry. This was—oh, beauty—it was perfect. You—I—I just—" There was a word caught in Draco's throat, choking him.

With nothing else to do, Harry wrapped his arms and legs around Draco's body, pressed kisses into his shoulder. "Draco, precious, I'm so sorry." He realized then that he was crying, too. "What can I do? I'll do anything."

Draco seemed to sob for hours, but finally his breathing returned to normal and Harry thought he might have fallen asleep. Then Draco sat up, forcing Harry to break his hold on him, and move away. He ran both hands through his hair and turned and smiled at Harry. "You're a very good protector. Ron will never have any fears." Ron. Ron! Oh, god! "We should take showers. This bed is a mess."

A glace at the sheets – wet and wrinkled and stained with come – but no reaction. Harry hadn't thought of Ron since... god, about five o'clock that afternoon. Harry had been packing Ron's Christmas present into his trunk. From Draco's watch on the bedside table, it had been nine hours. How could he—it was just all this time with Draco. It was good that he became absorbed in what he was doing. It would make him a very attentive boyfriend when Ron finally came around.

Oh, god! Draco's cock up his ass. He'd asked—he'd begged Draco to fuck him. And it was the most intense feeling of his life. The shower turned on. He'd been planning, at least in the back of his mind, that Ron would be his first time. It seemed like that was something so intimate, so important that... but even as he tried to regret it, he couldn't. Every time he thought of the vision of Draco bellow him, the feeling of utter completeness, Harry could feel his cheek muscles twitch into a smile.

Harry stood up and walked into the steamy bathroom. Glass door open and a step inside and Harry said, "Wash your back?" realizing only then that he was painfully hard again.

With a long look up and down Harry's body, Draco smiled and then his legs were around Harry's waist again.

It wasn't until the next morning that Harry realized this time it took twelve hours for him to think of Ron.

//

Those first four days in London, Draco called his mother the Christmas Nazi five, maybe six times, all in passing. Harry had noticed, vaguely, the way someone notices five red doors when they're walking down the street. He was in no way prepared for Narcissa Malfoy in pure Christmas form.

"The photographer is going to be here at seven o'clock. We are going to Floo to the forest for the tree at seven-thirty – that means you boys are bright-eyed and attractive at seven-thirty, not just rolling out of bed at seven-thirty, you understand me – then back here by nine to trim the tree, Christmas dinner brunch at eleven, then shots of us in sweaters around the house until one. Then you two are free to do whatever you want until three, but then you have to be right downstairs, tea with the Duke and Duchess of York and their daughters, and then supper with the Minister at seven."

With a swirl of pink silk, Narcissa left Draco's bedroom where house-elves were unpacking Draco's things, Draco was trying on his new pairs of shoes, and Harry was marvelling that Draco's mattress was four feet off the floor. "Dinner brunch?" Harry said.

"The sunlight is at its best in the grand dinning room at eleven, so the best pictures of our Christmas feast are then produced."

Harry smiled at Draco's syntax. "And did she mean Prince Andrew?"

"No, the other Duke of York." Generally, Harry was very good at picking out Draco's incredibly dry sarcasm, but it was hard to take Draco seriously when he wore purple – "Plum, Harry," as if that made it better – driving shoes and this time Harry wasn't sure. Draco rolled his eyes at him. "Yes, Prince Andrew and his funny children. Don't worry, you'll like them. The photo shoot, all six hours of it, is rather fun as well."

It was fun and he did like the royals and dinner with Scrimgeour the whole huge list of things Narcissa had for them to do. Harry was kept so busy for the next twelve days of the holiday what with Narcissa's unforgiving schedule and as much sex as possible that not only did he basically forget about Ron, but Hogwarts, the rest of England, even the world, as well, everything but the current moment at the Manor with Draco. Twelve straight days without anybody crying, any death threats, or monster attacks or unfortunate events of any kind. When he took the time to think about it, he felt that he was finally living the unmannered life teenagers were supposed to.

Because of this, Sunday's arrival and the trip back to King's Cross came as a shock. He hugged Lucius and Narcissa goodbye – how bizarre this would have been two weeks before only occurred to him later – and got all his trunks on the train and sat sadly alone in a compartment near the back while Draco went away for Head Boy duties. The appearance of Seamus and Dean and then Ginny and Luna perked him up, but it wasn't until Neville threw open the door, red and sobbing, that normalcy really returned.

//

Normalcy remained until that night. Harry and Draco had a glorious goodnight against the wall of their room and then, both exhausted although it was barely seven o'clock, they decided to go to bed.

Harry had just changed into pyjamas and crawled into bed when Ron came into the room. He'd had a haircut over Christmas and it was much shorter now, giving him an adorable little boy look. This cuteness was only enhanced by his fidgeting at the foot of Harry's bed, biting his lip and hoping to either foot. He had an urge to move into that position, with his knees pulled up, still uncomfortable although his arse was much better formed now, but he suppressed it, maybe even pulled his sheets flat to show off his hardened cock.

"Have a good holiday, Ron?" he said.

Ron nodded and glanced at him. "Yeah. Yeah, you?"

An unbidden smile came across his face. "Great, great holiday. Yeah." Ron opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, then opened it, again and again, spreading an awkward silence over them until Harry finally continued, "Need something, Ron?"

"No. Harry—"

"Yes."

"I... er. Noticed your new clothes. You look very fit."

"Well, thanks—" Wait. Fit? His smile disappeared. Ron thought he looked fit? Was that a complement? Was that something that might actually make Ron seem a little—gay? "What?"

"Yeah, especially the, er—stretchy thing you were wearing on the train. The blue thing. Brought out your eyes and your—er—stomach." That was certainly a complement. Quite the gay complement. "Listen, Harry—" Ron sent him a miserable, expectant look. Harry shrugged, helplessly. "Harry, I know you're with Mal—Draco, er. Draco Malfoy, you know... I know you're dating him, but... well, you were sort of with... me... before, you know and I thought that you might, well, I'd like you to consider me... again. I'd like you to break up with Draco Malfoy and date me. I'm gay, too. Date me... please. Or... consider it, like I said. I'd like you to."

Ron smiled a horrible, sad, small smile and turned away from him. Harry tried to get his voice to work, but his throat was thick, his mouth sticky, his arse still sore from Draco's last turn on top, and he could only make out a broken, "Ron—"

Ron stopped walking away from him and turned around, his expression first hopeful and then suddenly determined. "Sod it. Harry, I'm not going to take no for an answer. You're hard right now, I can see it through the covers and I've been your best mate for six years and you've only just met Malfoy and I think you were in love with me and I think you still are and I'm in love with you too and we're going to be together."

And then Ron's mouth was on his and it was all softness and tea taste and Ron and they were naked before Harry realized anything had happened. Seeing Ron pucker his lips and kiss Harry's cock for the first time, feeling Ron's hands squeezing his arse cheeks, hearing Ron's little whimpers, these things were crystal clear in his memory as Ron curled himself around Harry to fall asleep. In the darkness and the quiet, Harry breathed in everything he'd ever wanted.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

There was an aching in his hands and he reached out for something that wasn't there. Squeezed his hands shut until his nails were digging into his palms and he was shaking.