author's note: so we got the big reveal over—i cannot tell you how hard that was to write. [torchwoodfan13, i hope it lived up to your expectations, since that kind of scene seems that is important to you ;)—yes, guys, i do check out my reviewers.]

anyway—sexual content is in this chapter [i know—finally!]. please, if you are emotionally unprepared to read it, don't.

about the neighborhoods…i looked them up. got some basic stuff off of tourist sites and googled for maps. may be accurate, may not be; i really don't care that much…i put in some effort at least, give me some credit for that. any other details, like store names or streets or geographical positions are made up. just making that clear.

also, i am glad the previews are appreciated. they help me as well, actually, to get stuff to you quicker. the length of time it took to get ch3 up will probably be the norm for now; in the least, the average.

and, i just realized i never put a disclaimer on this story…but if you think i'm mrs. rowling, even or as good as her, i thank you for the complement, but you need to get your head checked. and, holy god, this is the longest author's note ever. sorry! story now!

-MEG

The Afterwards

Chapter Four: A Whole New World

Week one of the post-Harry-and-Draco announcement went along with more ease than anyone would have guessed. Since there was no "going out" for the budding couple, they would usually claim the library for an hour after dinner to be alone. They were careful to not flaunt their relationship too much. One, because it wasn't fair to Ron or Ginny, both of whom tolerated the couple in varying degrees. And, two, because they still lived in tight quarters. It was hard enough beginning with someone you saw all the time—to alienate those who were your escape would be disastrous. Harry would usually go to Hermione to talk about Draco, and occasionally Ron as well. Draco had Mrs. Weasley, and occasionally Hermione.

During their hour "dates" they would kiss or talk. But, usually, they read to each other. They had very different tastes in books: Draco likes classics, and Harry likes modern historical-fiction—if, that is, he had to read at all. But Harry liked listening to Draco read anything from A Tale of Two Cities to The Great Gatsby to the more modern The Book Thief. They would sometimes play games, though Harry learned quickly to not play Scrabble with Draco.

Both, however, yearn for real dates. Going out, having dinner. Harry wanted to introduce Draco to muggle things like going to the cinema. It seemed that this was going to be an unrealized dream until the next Monday night after dinner.

"I have an announcement." Mrs. Weasley said in an ominous tone. They all looked at her. Automatically, Draco grabbed Harry's hand under the table, as if to create a bond against whatever she was going to say.

"What?" Hermione, as always, had to say something.

"In a week's time, we shall vacate our safe house."

Incredulous looks filled the faces around her. "You mean…we can leave? Move out?" Hermione asked, her face changing into joy.

"The ministry suspects only two of the inner circle are left, and our sources say that they have gone abroad. Plus—you all cannot stay here, packed in like sardines." Mrs. Weasley said in a flat tone. "So…have you decided your plans? You can always come stay at the burrow." She said to Harry, Hermione, and Draco. They merely sat, stunned and thinking of the possibilities. Mrs. Weasley giggled and wondered off. With a sigh, Ginny got up from the table and went upstairs; it didn't matter much to her, she was leaving in a few weeks for her final year at Hogwarts.

Automatically, Harry and Draco rose and went into the library. It was old hat now; and, once there, neither even considered returning. This was their time. Draco sat, relaxed, on the couch. Harry moved and laid himself down, putting his head on Draco's lap. Draco laid his hand on Harry side, just under his chest. This was their usual position.

"So…what do you think?" Harry asked of his boyfriend.

"Thank Merlin!" Draco said with a chuckle.

Harry laughed. "No, seriously. We get to leave." Harry said wistfully, as though it were merely a dream and not reality.

"And where will you go?" Draco said in a light tone. It was false, however. He was nervous about Harry's plans.

"I want an apartment, like I said before." Harry said thoughtfully. "I think…or, I've been thinking about be a muggle for a while."

"A muggle?" Draco asked, both confused and surprised.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, looking eyes with Draco. "Living without magic. Getting a job. Maybe university."

"…Why?"

Harry sat up and turned himself to face his boyfriend. "To get away from Harry Potter, Draco. You know that." Harry replied, his brow creasing. Draco did know that—Harry had said it before. His legacy was a rope around his neck, even with—or, probably made worse by—Voldemort's death.

"I do…"Draco admitted, staring away from Harry.

"Then…oh," Harry realized Draco's surprise. "I'm leaving behind the magical world, Draco. Not you." Harry put a familiar hand on Draco's thigh. Draco said nothing, merely swallowing. "Will you come with me?"

That got Draco's attention. "Come with you? I can't—I don't know anything about muggle or how they live. It's all ridiculous to me—"

"So? You can learn. Or find a magical job and just be a muggle in public—city dwelling wizards have done that for ages." Harry knew Draco's dream was a large house in the middle of nowhere, from which he could flu or Apparate to his wizarding job without seeing a muggle at all. Though not prejudiced, really, he merely wished to not have to inconvenience himself for them.

Draco said nothing; he was thinking. Whenever Draco was seriously considering something, his grey eyes would squint slightly as he stared at nothing while his mouth curved into a slight frown. It was one of his mannerisms Harry had already learned.

"Think about it. We could get jobs—meaningless jobs since we both have funds to sustain us. Make friends, be normal." He paused. And then an idea occurred to him that, oddly enough, he had never thought of before. "We could live together."

Draco looked at him, flushing. His mind went from living with Harry—which, honestly, they had been doing for quite some time—to the more private aspects of living together. Harry nodded, grinning mischievously. "Really?"

"Sure." It didn't seem like a big deal—they had been living together for a while, after all. Neither saw any problems with the idea, instead focusing on the perks. "You can take the job with the ministry if you want, or find something else."

"What will you do?" Draco asked of Harry.

"I am not sure yet. Maybe work in retail and save up money for school. Or got to school slowly as I work or bypass university altogether." He ticked off the possibilities one his fingers. "I am not sure yet. Just something. Something non-magical." Draco hand came to meet Harry's. "You do not have to, of course. I do not mind coming to see you, wherever you settle." He added. He wasn't going to ask permission to do this from Draco, and he wasn't going to demand Draco do it as well. Especially since Draco had almost no experience with the muggle world.

"No, I want to live with you." Draco said, putting a stress on 'live' that added other meanings to it. "But I will take the Ministry position. I think it needs a Malfoy to help fix it, since a Malfoy helped destroy it." He said. "It's just an assistant's job, anyway. Nothing too evil."

"Okay then." Harry leaned in and kissed Draco slowly. "Where do you want to live?"

They talked over their usual hour time, but no one came to disturb them. They dreamed and fantasized, discussing anything from what jobs Harry should look for—Draco said a hot dog vendor [one of the few strictly muggle jobs he knew about]—two the type of flat they should rent. And whether it should actually be a flat or a small house. A flat seemed to be the consensus.

At some point, while discussing whether or not to paint the possible flat—it is a rental after all, why fix up a place you do not own?—Draco kissed Harry gently. Greedily, Harry held Draco to his mouth. Draco's brows raised in mild surprise, but he kept their mouths—and tongues—active. When he finally was allowed to pull away, he muttered, "That was nice." He stared into Harry's eyes so solidly that Harry shivered. Without a word, Harry pushed himself against Draco, grabbing him by the collar before pulling him down…down…to lay atop of the smaller youth. This was new; they separated their mouths for a few moments to appreciate this new scenario better. They had always been careful with affection, always aware someone could come in, and always mindful of the other's sensitivities. Right now, however, neither cared. Neither could even feel anything beyond where their bodies touched.

If either needed anymore confirmation that the other was interested, it was evident now. Easy felt even between layers of fabric. Draco leaned down then, slowly, drawing out the anticipation, this feeling. Harry couldn't take slow, and he leaned up a few inches to meet Draco's mouth. As if given permission, Draco kissed hard, and fast. It was a kiss one gave before going off to war; but he wasn't going anywhere.

Draco slid one elbow straight downward on Harry's side to ground himself on the back of the couch cushion. He leaned slightly on that side. His knees were bent on either side of Harry's, so his hips were directly on top of his boyfriend's. This left his left hand free, to roam. It drew slowly down Harry's side until it came to the bottom of his shirt. It moved upwards only about half a foot, this time under Harry's shirt. Skin on skin burned as they kissed. Needing breath, they broke apart. They breathed heavily on each other.

But they couldn't stop. Or, Draco couldn't at least. He had always been an active lover—no pauses or delicate moments. He couldn't not be touching, kissing, or rubbing something, or, rather, someone. To this end, he leaned down and Harry, as though reading Draco's mind, turned his head to the right, eyes closed. Draco's mouth kissed, sucked, and bit at Harry's neck, throat, and as much of the rest of him that could be reached from the top of Harry's t-shirt. Harry groaned lightly as Draco made his progression across his Adam's apple and to the other side. Feeling ignored, Harry's mouth maneuvered itself back under Draco's own, and disciplined it for leaving him alone; Draco didn't seem to mind.

They didn't leave the rest immobile, however. While the mouths were busying themselves, their bodies began to move together. No conscious decision was ever made, nor did they realize the movement until they felt the pleasure from it. It began in gentle motions, the body moving as the head and upper body did—up, down, around, all ways. They felt each other more clearly, then, and the phrase "is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" came to Harry's rather perverse mind. But the time soon came that he could not think at all. As their mouths battled, Harry's hands grabbed at Draco's hips, pulling the down and moving them to create more feelings. Draco listened, speeding up. Soon, stifled noises of bliss were more common than breathing.

It didn't take long.

Harry was red faced as he went into the room he shared with Ron. His roommate was not there; he must be with Hermione and Ginny, Harry decided. He was glad for the time alone. He grabbed clean sleeping clothes and headed for the shower to clean up his own mess.

He showered quickly; his kneed were still weak. He wanted nothing more than to lie down. But he wanted to lie beside Draco…but he couldn't. Ron and Ginny were trying, but, still, every once in a while one would wince or twitch at something the couple did or said. Not until they were released would they stay the night with each other.

The idea sounded so perfect. He wanted a home with Draco. Have normal together time, go out with friends, come home and not sleep and then awaken in the morning wrapped in each other, exhausted and glowing. He felt himself readying again, and stayed in the water long enough to finish off his second round of the evening. He climbed out of the shower and dried himself off slowly. He watched himself in the mirror. He never had been one to look at his naked body. At the Dursley's his showering time was limited—not just because of their rules, but also because his showers were always devoid of warm water. At Hogwarts it was a "get in, get out" deal that never warranted self-admiration. Now, however, he couldn't help but take a moment.

The sight of his own body didn't arouse him. It was just skin covering muscles and various other parts as he had learned in his muggle schooling. He was shorter than the average man. He hovered around five-six, five-seven. Within that package, however, he was solidly built enough. Years of quidditch—which did take a remarkable amount of athletic ability—and of constantly being on the run for his life had created a thin, lightly muscled frame. One that Draco obviously felt appealing.

He hadn't seen Draco naked—in fact, he hadn't even seen him shirtless. He shivered, imagining how Draco looked. Draco was a good deal taller than Harry, nearing six feet tall. Draco was of a thicker build, one of someone trained to be strong, and yet one of someone who never had to worry about having a three-course (or more) meal. He had more defined arms, and legs. Harry wondered how his chest felt; his back was definitely tight and strong from the feel of it. He wanted to know for sure. To see it.

He felt the molten lava flow in his stomach, and his nether region began to react. The volcano wanted to blow. He looked down, as if to say "A third round?" but the feeling was genuine enough. He wanted more than his hand, but was too nervous to seek out help again.

Things have changed, already. Started, and yet ended. He was hyper-aware now, as though he could feel Draco move about in his room one floor up. He looked to the ceiling. He wanted to know what was going on up there. He wanted…he wanted…he wanted. He had never really focus on his shallow desires—other things had always been more important.

Now, however, he was a creature made of desire. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He dressed and went to bed. He pretended to sleep when Ron came in half an hour later. At some point, he softened and fell asleep.

He awoke last. Stubbornly, he held onto the last of his dream, even though he wasn't sure what it was about. He only knew it was exciting. He didn't even know if it was a good dream, but when he surfaced his heart was racing as though he had been running.

Draco rose out of bed, slightly stiff but very much awake. He showered and dressed quickly. He glanced at the clock as he put the last strand of hair in place: he had missed breakfast. Damn. He shrugged it off and headed downstairs. When he reached the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley wordlessly pointed to the sitting room. Draco nodded and redirected to the room beside the library. It was slightly larger than the library, with several mismatched couches and chairs. Ron was seated alone, as was his sister beside him, on their own separate chairs. Hermione and Harry were together on the couch, pointing at what appeared to be a map of London. Ron looked up and gave him a nod and a weak, though welcoming smile. Draco returned it in thanks. Ron was still trying; he hadn't yet made it to acceptance yet. He wondered how long it would take, or if Ron was just biding his time until Harry chose Ginny. Ginny spoke a sweet hello before turning to the transfiguration book in her lap.

Hermione and Harry looked up as Ginny greeted Draco. "Morning." Hermione said, the warmest of the greetings so far. Harry smiled, a touch of pink rising on his cheeks. Draco wondered at the slight blush. Was it because of what happened on the couch? He thought it must be. Draco moved in further, walking around the back of the couch to sit on Harry's side, on the floor by his knees.

"Morning." Draco said. Harry touched his head tenderly. They didn't kiss, not in front of the youngest Weasley children. "What are you two doing?" He asked, gesturing towards the map.

"We are deciding where to live." Hermione answered before Harry could.

"We have decided on London." Harry informed him, even though he already knew. "Hermione has settled on Holburn—"

"It's were the barrister's office is. Mills and Brooks is right there." She said, pointing at an intersection. Draco couldn't read the street names. "The flat mum and dad have found for me isn't far from there. A few blocks or so."

"And I was looking at Bloomsbury." Harry said to Draco. "It's near the University College of London. It's also near Holburn so Hermione won't be far." Draco noted Ron's face becoming surlier by the second. He found a perverse sense of satisfaction that, for the first time in a while, it wasn't he who was causing that look. "And, if you are at the Ministry, you need only to floo there. And it's near shops and things for me to work."

Draco smiled, amused at how much thought had already gone into this. He glanced to Ron and Ginny; they did not seem surprised that Harry was considering his future residence with Draco in mind. He must have already told them. Draco glanced at the map. "Sounds good to me. It's a nice area, from what I remember."

"It is."

"A little stuffy, maybe. Soho would be more fun." Ginny said, coming out of her textbook.

"Not a stuffy as Mayfair." Hermione pointed out. "And Soho is close by."

"Plus, you are not the one living there." Harry pointed out.

"True." She went back to studying.

Her brother was giving Harry a look that begged Harry to die now. "What?" Harry asked, seeing the expression as his attention left Ginny.

"It's just so not fair." He complained. From Harry and Hermione's reaction, this was not the first time he had said this today.

"Get a job, Ron, and see what happens. Maybe you can shack up with Hermione." Draco said. He couldn't help but grin as both Ron and Hermione went slightly pink. Harry's knee nudged him; he looked up to find Harry grinning.

"You will only be a floo ride away, Ron." Harry said, trying to control his curling lips.

"Yeah…sure…." Ron said, as though he didn't believe Harry one bit.

Harry yawned widely. Draco looked up, concerned. "You okay?" He asked, wrapping an arm around Harry's calf and squeezing lightly.

Harry nodded. "I didn't sleep well," he said vaguely.

"Having nightmares?" Hermione asked this time; she easily slipped into the fear that Harry's nightmares had once created. She was alert…just in case. She seemed to be the only one not focused on the new couple. Her thoughts were more varied—to their lives now afterwards, and how the state of their dual worlds would affect that.

"No," Harry said, putting a quelling hand on her knee. "Just thinking about leaving here. What it would mean, what could happen."

"Oh," Hermione said, with an understanding nod. "It's all going to be different. But we will all be here." She smiled and Draco squeezed him again, affectionately.

There was a silence, then. No one was sure of what to do. Anticipation was killing the present; they could only think beyond right now.

"Anyone for a game of scrabble?" Hermione proposed, gesturing to the board game on the bookshelves. Harry and Ron gave her a sour look, but Draco volunteered. He was the only one who could really match Hermione's skill; this was not the first time they had played each other. The other two boys—Ginny was focused on homework—decided to watch. If anything, watching Draco and Hermione play was amusing.

The board was set up on the coffee table and Draco and Hermione took their places. They drew their tiles, as well as the deciding tile. Draco went first. He studied his letters. Poker face intact, he laid out "TAXED," for thirty points. Hermione grimaced. She looked at her own and settled with "LAITY," for a mere ten. Slightly less than halfway through, Hermione triumphantly put down "RAINBOWS," off of Draco's "SLAVE," for an extra fifty points. Draco, ever stoic in contrast to Hermione's glow, would eventually add "CLOYING" to the table, adding the "C" to his past move of "ABLE." In the end, they were close at each other. With a final placement of a "Q" beside a lone "I," Hermione won, 356 to 352. Ron smiled at Draco's plight, and Hermione celebrated by trying to keep her grin to a minimum. She had officially pulled ahead in the stats now.

Draco shrugged and held out a hand. Hermione took it easily.

Another end to a dull morning. It felt weird to Harry as he realized this fact: they only had three more of these left.

Thank God.

Friday night was the most stressful. So close to freedom—they left Sunday—and yet so far. "The day after tomorrow" was possible the most aggravating phrase in the English language. Dinner was quiet and strained. Mrs. Weasley had more-or-less learned to not create conversation when the children were in these moods. Ginny's mood had become so dark she rarely talked at all. Ron was sour because he had no exciting life to look forward to. Hermione was worried for everyone, but mostly for herself and her new independence. And Draco and Harry were worried about their relationship and how it would change.

When dinner adjourned, Draco and Harry lingered to float the dishes to the sinks. Mrs. Weasley dismissed them, but Draco insisted on helping and stayed. Harry, not having such a desire, went for the sitting room. Hermione and Ron were there, talking. Something about their tone and stance made Harry hesitate.

"It's not fair. I wish I could come with you lot—but, no, I have to stay home." He moaned as he leaned against the mantle.

"You could always come stay with me." Hermione said with a slight edge. Ron had been whining all week, and everyone was over it. She moved towards him, standing before him as though daring him to say no. Her heart pounded, the only thing betraying her nerves.

"No…I can't." He replied, suddenly quiet and pink-faced.

"Why not?" Hermione prodded. She had been trying to get him to give in all summer—though subtly. Harry had once asked her why she didn't make the first move, since it was so bloody obvious, but she insisted that Ron had to be ready.

"Because we are not Harry and Draco." Hermione blinked, as did the well-hidden Harry: Ron hadn't ever referred to the couple as one. He had only spoken of them separately until now. With his statement, however, Ron had left through another passageway. Hermione lingered, looking disappointed. Harry entered, and, wordlessly, embraced her.

Saturday was exciting. Everyone packed all morning, gleefully putting minimizing items into their trunks and packs. The rooms were bare but for the luggage, which, after a light lunch, was moved towards the door. The plan was to move them in early morning to the Burrow. From there, they would be allowed to leave at will. Draco finished packing first, and raced downstairs. He had decided he would be the one to cook tonight: he wanted to make his mother's lasagna recipe—on that she had never made herself, but was very good anyway.

He prepared the layers quickly while the others packed. He placed them in their specific order—it was vital to the end result—and put the pan on ice for now. It would take just over an hour to cook. By the time he finished (it took just over half an hour to prepare), the others had dripped downstairs, talking excitedly. He asked Ron where Harry was, and Ron told him Harry was taking a nap: he hadn't slept well again.

Draco's forehead furrowed in concern. He left the kitchen and went upstairs. He opened the door quietly and closed and locked it behind him. "Are you sleeping?" He asked.

Harry was laid out in comfortable pants, eyes open but not seeing anything. He blinked and rolled his head to look at the door. "No—why?" He asked, beginning to rise.

"Can I join you?" Draco asked, moving towards the bed. He lay down before Harry had the time to answer. Draco also wore comfortable pants, but he had a t-shirt on as well.

"Y-yes." Harry said, shifting over to allow Draco beside him. He felt smaller than usual as Draco wrapped himself around Harry. He liked it. He rolled over to put his back together. Draco wrapped one around Harry's torso, the other under his head. Draco wasn't tired, but Harry seemed relaxed enough for sleep.

Draco grinned to himself. He kissed the back of Harry's neck lightly. He felt Harry's shiver as it ran down his body. "Are you nervous?" He whispered as he continued the light pecks.

There was a short pause before Harry rasped a quiet, "Yes." His stomach was fluttering, his skin was crawling—in a pleasant way—and his parts were certainly responding to Draco's small kisses. He hated how easily roused he was; he felt pathetic because of it. He felt pathetic afterwards, that is: during he felt nothing but anticipation and bliss. And, of course, nerves. It was at moments like this he realized that they had never discussed sex—as though neither wanted to broach the subject, though it was clearly on their minds.

And then, Harry almost lost himself all together: Draco's hand was slowly roaming downward, farther than it had ever gone before. It passed his naval and hit hair and Harry let out a choke sigh. "Do you want me to stop?" Draco whispered in his ear. The feeling of that alone would have gotten him going.

"No." He managed to say. His eyes were shut tight and the visions there made the moment all the more hot. Draco's hand continued its plunge. It reached its destination and began to gentle pleasure the organ found there. In an effort to pleasure himself, Draco rubbed himself on Harry's behind—unknowingly adding to Harry's enjoyment. Neither could speak; they only could pant and moan.

Minutes passed, but they didn't notice. When it ended, they lay there, waiting for the climax to pass, excited for life when they would truly be alone.

Harry was flushed as dinner was served. Even looking at his boyfriend got him excited. His body had not forgotten their afternoon delight, and it clearly wanted more. Every so often Draco would catch his eye and Draco would also blush. It did annoy Harry, however, that Draco was clearly in better control of himself. He knew that was probably because co-pleasure wasn't a whole new world for Draco. It embarrassed him further. Eventually, they would have to talk about it.

Meanwhile, the table was abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Hermione mused allowed that this was probably what criminals felt like the night before release. It made the table laugh. They may not be criminals—the opposite, really—but they had been jailed long enough to count themselves as prisoners. Hermione detailed her job at the barrister's office, listing with great pride her tasks and duties. The Weasleys ate the details more thoroughly than Draco's lasagna. His mother's recipe was a great success, and prompted Mrs. Weasley to beg for the recipe. Draco said no, of course, and that is was a special family dish.

Hermione's subject eventually dwindled in importance and everyone seemed like they were thirsting for a new topic.

Mrs. Weasley found one: "So, Draco, I hear you are moving to muggle London." She said, satisfied with her piece of obvious gossip.

Draco smiled, and took Harry's hand under the table. Harry smiled, remembering with perversity where that hand had been earlier. "Yes." Draco said brightly. "I'm going to have to learn how to live in a whole new world."

N E X T
Chapter Four: Let's Talk About Sex

"We had sex last night..."

"What?"

"In the kitchen..."

"What?"

"At the Burrow..."

"Holy Shit!"