A lot of people like to take their shower time to think. Something about the hot water, the isolation, the soothing motion of rubbing shampoo into their scalp just makes it easier for their thoughts to flow freely. Some people even have their greatest epiphanies while showering. And it was in the shower that Draco Malfoy realized what had just happened.

Harry Potter just paid to have sex with him, confessed his long-term feelings for him, and was now paying for him to stay until morning so that they could have a date night and Draco could see what exactly it was that he "deserved". After three years of not even thinking about one another, Potter just hired Draco to fuck him and then asked to be his one-night boyfriend. Yeah - this was normal. One hundred percent normal. Totally normal.

Okay - he had to get it together. Draco shut off the water to the shower, reaching out blindly to find a towel to dry his face and hair. He had to focus on the idea that this was only for a night; this was only happening because Potter was paying for it. Once they lived out this sick fantasy that they had both been vying for for years - no, just Potter, that Potter had been vying for for years...then it would be over. It had to be over, and by the end of the night, Draco would make that apparent. He could not allow himself to fall more in love with Harry Potter anymore than he could keep allowing for Harry to be in love with him. That wasn't the way it was meant to be. They were two completely different people living two completely different lifestyles - Harry, the Golden Boy who was richer than sin, and Draco, the whore who sold himself to even maintain one tenth of what he was used to having. Draco could not allow for Potter to forget that. He'd let him have his fun. But he was determined to show the man that it wasn't going to end the way he wanted it to.

After drying himself and getting dressed once more, Draco walked out of the bathroom to find Harry waiting for him. The brunette immediately wrapped his arms around the smaller blond in an affectionate hug, clasping his hands on the small of his back, and Draco bit his lip and reminded himself to resist. This was Potter's roleplaying game, not his. As much as it pained him, he could not give him more hope than he had. It wasn't fair.

"Nice and clean?" Harry asked quietly, planting a kiss on the top of Draco's head, and the blond bit his lip to keep himself from smiling.

"As clean as a guy like me gets."

"Hey, no, shhh, don't say things like that." Draco opened his mouth to protest but Harry put a finger to his lips to stop him. "I'm serious, Draco. I don't want you trying to do anything stupid. I know that's a stretch for you-"

"Oh fuck you."

"-but I really want this to just be...natural. No trying to talk me out of it. No resisting. No insulting yourself. Forget for just tonight that you have a job. Forget for a moment where the two of us have been for the past three years, and just...go with the flow, okay?"

No. That wasn't okay. It wasn't okay at all. Because Draco knew what would happen if he did just that. If he did that, Harry would be sweet; Harry would show him the comforts of living a normal life. He would tell him pretty words and do couple-y things, normal things, and he would treat Draco like a king, the way that the young blond had always wanted him to treat him. And Draco would fall for him even harder than before. He'd be driven mad by his emotions, blinded by his feelings, much like he was when he was younger, and through that, he would start becoming careless. He would forget who he was and what his job was, and Potter would, too. They would forget the world for one another, and as blissful as that sounded, it couldn't happen. Because Draco would always be a prostitute just like Harry would always be the Boy-Who-Lived. And the Boy-Who-Lived would not be able to deal with the fact that the man he loved was sleeping with other men, and that prostitute would never be able to stop what he was doing because stopping would mean that someone got hurt. Because Scabior was not a forgiving man.

But Draco didn't say any of that. Instead he just looked up into Harry's eyes, smiled softly, and said, "Okay."

Harry led him into the sitting room with the television where Draco had first encountered him the week before. "I made popcorn," he said, smiling excitedly, gesturing toward the bowl on the coffee table, "and I made sure that we wouldn't have any interruptions tonight. It's just you and me."

Draco's heart was pounding. It was funny - Harry could attack him the moment he walked into the door to pressure him to bed and he wouldn't do anything but go along. But the second he started breaking out normal activities, the blond began to feel nervous. Awkward. Like he was doing something that he shouldn't be doing at all. He hesitated to move into the room, and Harry seemed to sense this. "Let's sit down," he said quietly and then he led, actually pulled and led, the other boy to the couch where he sat them both down and pulled Draco to his chest. Finding his ability to function again, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I hope you don't mind soap operas," Harry said, glancing at the television screen, where a Latina woman was chattering angrily into a phone. "Growing up, they were sort of a guilty pleasure of mine."

Draco stared at the TV. Something about it seemed a little...wrong. He had nothing against soap operas, of course. He found that they were highly amusing and a good way to sit back and entertain himself after a long night of work. But something about this one was different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it...

"Potter?"

"Hm?"

"Is this in Spanish?"

He didn't have to look up to know that the other man was smiling.

"It is."

"Uh huh. And do you speak Spanish?"

"No. But it doesn't mean that I can't enjoy the show, does it?"

Okay. Potter was loony. That was fine; the loonier he got, the less Draco would like him.

"It's just something I used to do growing up," Harry said when Draco didn't reply to his last statement. "I didn't get to watch a lot of television, but when I did, it was usually stuck on this channel. And I liked that I couldn't understand it because then I could just...picture what was going on myself. Make my own story. I much preferred that to the shit writing that most soap operas suffer under."

Damn him. When he put it like that, Draco found himself looking back at the screen with a little more fondness for what was happening. He didn't know a lot about Harry's past; just that he was raised by Muggles. Something about learning that little snippet about a Harry Potter that existed even before Draco knew him just made him grow more attracted to the man he was leaning on.

"Oh. I see."

"Yeah...besides if I can't understand them, it gives me time to do other things." He looked down at Draco and smiled. "Like pay attention to you."

Damn him to Hell. Draco flushed a light pink and reached out for the bowl that had the popular Muggle treat in it, and he popped a few kernels into his mouth so that he didn't have to respond. Responding would just take him further in. And he couldn't. He couldn't fall any more.

But unluckily for him, that was exactly what happened. He and Harry sat together, laughing, teasing, joking, coming up with dialogue to go along with what was happening on the screen ("Francisco, you bitch, you left the stove on! Get your arse back here." "Ay, you're the woman Juanita, the stove is your responsibility." "Oh shit, someone's not getting laid tonight."). They fed each other popcorn and tried throwing it into the other's mouth; then, when it was gone, they playfully argued over who would make more before dropping the bowl to the ground and deciding to see who was more stubborn by letting the first person to get hungry make it. They laughed, they chatted, they cuddled, and in the end, when the shows were over and the TV was turned off and it was just them, Draco found himself more infatuated with Harry Potter than he could allow himself to be. And he didn't give a damn.

"Draco." The blond looked up at the sound of his name. The two had been sitting in silence for a while, Draco's head rested against Harry's chest, thinking. "I know I said to forget about your job tonight...but...well I guess it's relevant to what I'm trying to do. But...can I ask you a question?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, sure."

"If this whole thing had never happened...with coming to the Muggle world and becoming a prostitute..." Harry paused and knitted his brow, as though he wasn't sure what he was saying was making any sense. "What would you be doing? Y'know as a job?"

Oh. No one had ever asked Draco that before. While he knew what it was, knew without a doubt in his mind, he was caught a little bit off guard by the fact that someone cared. "I'd be a Healer," he said quietly, and Harry gave him a curious look. "Healing the sick and injured...all the people that I...they. That they hurt. I'd want to, uhm...make it right." Potter's gaze had so much affection in it that Draco had to look away from him. "But you know, that's just a...a fantasy. A dream job. They'd never actually allow me to train to be a Healer." He rubbed his left arm with a cringe, as if he could still feel the burn from it that traveled through his entire body when Voldemort was present, like he could still feel the sickening Dark energy pulsing through his veins. Harry caught his hand, holding it still to prevent him from running his fingers over the fading Mark over and over again, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he got when he remembered it was still there.

"I think that's a very noble profession," Harry said quietly. "You would make a fantastic Healer."

"You don't know that." Draco refused to look at him now, and he focused his gaze on the popcorn bowl that lay on the ground. "I put a lot of those people there-"

"No you didn't."

"But I did!" It came out sounding more harsh than he meant, but at least Harry didn't try to argue back this time. "Why does it matter anyway? It's never going to happen."

"I just...I was just curious. I'm sorry." The two sat in silence with Harry's hand still holding Draco's stationary, as if letting go would mean that Draco would leave, that the illusion he wanted to create would be shattered. Draco didn't complain - Harry's hand there reminded him that it really was over. That the Mark was fading, that life was moving on, that someone could sit there and honestly tell him that they cared about him. It made him feel a little more grounded than when he was lying awake all alone at night, sobbing into a pillow because of a nightmare that had once been reality. The two men just sat together, two pieces of one whole, falling back into silence. They were both too busy thinking of the others' words and how they would do anything in the world to take that moment back to do much else. Finally, though, Draco spoke.

"Thank you, though. For asking. No one's ever...well, it's not like anyone who knows about my job is willing to ask but...nobody has ever asked me about that before."

"I just want to know everything there is to know about you," Harry replied quietly, stroking the back of Draco's hand with his thumb. "Your dreams, your hopes, your past...I just want to try to understand you, Draco. It's all I've wanted for years."

"You know I can't tell you all of that."

"No. I know that you won't. I'll always hope that one day you feel you can, though." Then he lifted his chin to kiss him and it was that same tender, passionate, electrifying kiss that had so quickly brought him to a climax just moments ago, the same kiss that said a million things at once and now Draco had a chance to decipher each and every thought and attempt to understand. And he knew then that it didn't matter if he gave in or if he told Harry to sod off. It didn't matter how he reacted to Harry's words because this was Harry Potter they were talking about, and as long as he knew that Draco was out there, he would never, ever stop trying to figure him out. Draco would never actually be alone. With that realization, he allowed himself to kiss back with the same passion, biting lightly on Harry's bottom lip and soothing it over with his tongue, getting lost in the taste that was so distinctly and sweetly Harry. He leaned against Harry's chest, shifting his weight so he was lying on him, and he allowed himself to forget it all for moment just like Harry wanted him to. In that moment, he allowed himself to believe in Harry's fantasy, and he let it become his fantasy as well. But then he pulled away slowly, reluctantly, because the cynic and realist inside him was screaming at him the entire time that that was all it was ever going to be - a fantasy.

"Why?" Draco asked quietly, resting his forehead against Harry's and shutting his eyes.

"Why what?"

"Why me?" His voice lowered to a whisper. "Out of everyone in the world, Potter...why me?"

"Because you deserve it," was the quiet reply and Draco shook his head the best he could without moving his position.

"I don't, though. I was...I was awful to you, to your friends, to the world. Don't be a bloody hero and tell me that it's okay to treat me like this, like I'm something human and real and brilliant, just because you think for some reason that I deserve it. That's not...It's not true. I'm not worth it, Potter, and you never gave me the time of day before. So why now? Why me?"

Harry's hand came up to pet Draco's hair soothingly, the other resting on his cheek where it brushed slowly once to wipe away a random tear. "It's always been you," Harry said, "and don't interrupt me and tell me I'm being stupid and cheesy because I don't care. It has always...always been you. Not just now but years and years ago. Do you really think we paid so much attention to one another because we hated each other? Do you honestly think I worked so hard to try and upstage you because I didn't care? When we were sixteen, I practically stalked you for Merlin's sake." Draco let out a shaky laugh and Harry kissed his chin. "It has always been you, you stupid git, from the moment we met. Because you are a pompous, arrogant prat who never knows when to shut the Hell up, but you are also very loyal to those that you love with a thirst to show the world how truly great you are. And you have tried to show me year after year how amazing you are, from your amazing Quidditch playing to your shining intellect and even your wit. These aren't things that I'm making up. These are the things you have shown me. I just wasn't brave enough to say anything until...until now. Because everyone expected differently of me, just like they expected differently from you." Harry paused for a second before adding, "And I guess I'm choosing right here right now because I never gave you the attention that you deserved. I saw that you were struggling as I watched you grow up, and I didn't do anything about it because I was still growing up, too. I was stupid and naive. But not anymore. I can see you struggling plainly now, and I'm not going to make the same mistake of letting you slip away from me again. Not this time." He smiled. "This time you're mine. Even if you claim you don't feel the same way."

"You really are a girl sometimes, Potter," Draco replied, though his tone was soft and he was smiling. Harry laughed and ran a finger across his cheek again.

"I know. But don't pretend like you don't love it."

"Who's pretending?"

He laughed at the blank expression that met his eyes in response and kissed Harry's nose before pulling away, grabbing the popcorn bowl as he did so. "You're so...amazing," he said, and his smile slipped a bit. "You make it very, very hard to keep acting like I hate you."

"Isn't that the point?" Harry asked, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Draco frowned.

"You're going to regret this one day," he replied quietly and then he walked out of the room with the bowl in hand, ready to prepare a snack for the both of them. Harry must have sensed that he wanted to be alone because despite what Draco thought would happen, the brunette didn't follow him. He just sat with a strange expression on his face, staring at the blond's retreating back and thinking about the implications of that last sentence.

By the time the two crawled into bed together, exhausted but happy, Draco had fallen harder for Harry than he ever had for anyone else before. He felt more for the stupid boy wonder than he ever did for Pansy or Blaise or any random fling, felt more at home in Harry's arms than he ever did in his actual house, and he felt happy for the first time in years - something he thought that he would never feel again. Harry had shown him something that he never thought he'd get back; he'd shown him normalcy, home comforts, things like soap opera dubs and bowls of popcorn, home cooked meals and the chore of washing dishes (an activity that took the pair of them an hour longer than necessary because they couldn't keep their hands off each other and Draco refused to use magic). He baked biscuits for the first time in years and sat shirtless on the couch watching cartoons, fascinated by them, while Harry washed the flour from both of their shirts. He laughed, talked with Harry about life, about their favorite foods, favorite colors, stores, hobbies, animals, places. He drank wine and cuddled against the younger man who had so surprisingly taken him in so enthusiastically, who had shown him more in one night than he'd ever seen in a lifetime. He teased Harry relentlessly and the brunette matched his sarcasm with his own sharp tongue and then the two laughed it off, apologizing with small touches and light kisses. They did things that were so simply normal and natural that by the time Harry suggested going to bed, Draco had forgotten altogether that he and Harry had never liked one another and that they could never be together. In fact, those were the farthest thoughts from his mind.

"I still say," Draco said as he flopped down onto the mattress, turning onto his side to face Harry, "there is absolutely nothing wrong with liking pop music. I mean it's a little-"

"Gay."

"-yes that, Potter, but you'd think that wouldn't matter much to you, you giant pouf. Besides, it just gets stuck in your head..."

"N*SYNC, though, Malfoy?"

"When I leave you, I'll be singing Bye Bye Bye."

"Oh please," Harry said, the usual mischievous glint in his eye becoming somewhat predatory, "like you'd leave me."

Draco knew that look - by then, he knew it well. He tried scrambling away, muttering, "Shit, no no no no no," quickly under his breath but Harry was faster than he was - he soon found himself pinned, Harry pulling back his wrists to attack him with kisses. Everywhere. On his nose, his cheek, his neck, his hair, his eyelids. Wherever he could gain access to while keeping Draco in place. "Get off!" the blond cried, laughing. "Get off you fat piece of shit."

"Oh Draco that hurts. I think I'll sit here longer until it stops hurting."

"Fuck, no, you're crushing me."

"You love it," Harry hissed in reply, grinding his hips down onto Draco's, causing the blond to groan.

"No, no, Potter, we can't. Not again."

It was like something broke then and there. Realization flashed in Harry's eyes, and he released Draco's wrists as he sat back onto the other man's knees. Draco himself felt his eyes widen, felt his heart start to beat faster as he watched every possible emotion flicker through Harry's eyes, as though he wasn't sure which one to feel. Finally it settled on something too close to pity for Draco's liking, and he sat up, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck to pull him down again. The brunette gave in, though the kiss he gave him wasn't nearly as insistent as it would have been just seconds before. Draco felt his heart sink, but he tried his best to repair his damage.

"I didn't say you could leave," he teased quietly, and Harry smiled, brushing his lips with his thumb.

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied gently. Then the two exchanged a couple more kisses before Harry moved to the side again, keeping an arm tight around Draco's waist as he pulled him closer, allowed him to snuggle against him. "I hope you had the best night," he continued in that same gentle voice, and Draco was happy they weren't facing one another so that Harry didn't have to see the look of pain that he was sure to have on his face. "I hope you want to do it again. Soon." For the rest of your life was the implication left hanging in the air, but the blond absolutely refused to grab hold of it. He couldn't.

"I hope I get the chance," Draco replied carefully, and that seemed to be enough for Harry. He felt a warm kiss on the back of his neck, heard a quiet, "Goodnight," and then it was silent, save for the sound of Harry's breathing and the shifting of bodies trying to remain comfortable on a bed that was used to just one. Finally, though, Harry's breathing grew heavier and the shifting stopped, and Draco allowed the sound of another man's breathing to lull him to sleep, not wanting to lie awake alone to depress himself with thoughts of normalcy, love, and what could have been.