-1At six thirty a.m., Harry was awakened by complete silence. He opened his eyes, which were instantly met with darkness, and realized the game had been turned off. He listened to the house, and realized from the soft breathing on the floor that Paul had fallen asleep. He waited until his eyes adjusted, his memory slowly returning. What time was it now? Had it been several hours? It felt like it; the house was still dark. He heard the ticking of the clock next to him, and was surprised to learn he'd slept little more than an hour. Well, so much for Paul staying awake all night; he shifted under the quilt. It had warmed around his body, and felt rather comfortable if it weren't for the fact that he was lonely.

He had planned for the night to go differently; yes, he was thrilled to have come back with Draco and his friends, but he was frustrated. It didn't seem that he was getting much further in his sexual exploration, and he could not stay away from home forever. He wanted to come back whole, more aware of himself. He wanted to see his friends again, and be confident enough in his own sexuality so that they, perhaps, just maybe, would be able to accept him, too. And he wanted to enjoy just a few months of just being Harry, instead of the famous Harry Potter. I must be doing something wrong, missing some opportunity; perhaps I didn't try hard enough, or make my interest clear, or let him know I really liked him, despite all our past problems…

He lay there in the dark, thinking about Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. He thought about their first year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when they'd first met. He thought about fifth year, when Draco managed to get him suspended from playing Quidditch, and seventh year, when Draco broke his nose. He thought about how he'd almost killed Draco with an evil spell that same year, and how, the following year, he'd saved Draco's life and faced off the dark wizard Voldemort. He thought about Draco, a blond twenty-something-year-old, winding and writhing in rhythm in the European underground, their eyes locked together in mutual appreciation, their bodies in perfect syncopation, their lips parted as they teased each other. He thought about their secrets; he thought about a lot of things.

At seven fifteen, Harry got up and stepped gingerly around the sprawled Paul, who snored softly on the floor. He crept up the stairs to the ticking of the downstairs clock, and turned the knob to Draco's bedroom door. It was locked. He took out his wand, which, like many wizards, he'd kept tucked under his shirt and jeans inside a special pouch he hardly noticed anymore.

"Alohamora," he whispered, and the lock clicked open while the door swung noiselessly inward. He saw a dark mound buried under blankets on the four poster bed, and softly closed the door behind him. He padded forward, stood at the foot of the bed, and undressed, dropping his clothes at his feet. His heart thundered, and he wondered if Draco would awake at the very sound. He climbed onto the bed and crawled toward the body under the covers, which turned and breathed loudly.

Draco was still asleep, and he flipped onto his back, his mouth open. His white-blond hair parted and fell to either side of his head. Harry stared at the bare chest, the arms flung out above the bedclothes. He pulled them away, revealing Draco's half-naked body-he wore sweatpants below the waist-and crawled in beside him. He stroked the hair on the pale face, parting it around the ears. Draco shuddered, and his eyes flew open.

"Huh? Harry?! What the hell are you doing here?"

Draco sat bolt upright and stared at him, but Harry didn't move.

"It was quiet downstairs. A mite lonely." The incredulous expression on Draco's face was almost amusing. "Thought I'd come up and see if maybe you'd change your mind." He shrugged. After a moment, Draco relaxed, now completely awake. He rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"Oh. Right. You know, I forgot about you Gryffindors. You don't take no for an answer, do you?"

"Not very well, no. Of course, if you really want me to leave, I will."

"I said I had a policy. It's nothing against you."

"I know. It's all right. I shouldn't have come. I'll let you get back to sleep," Harry answered calmly, and made as if to get up from his side of the bed. When the blankets fell away from him, he saw Draco's eyes widen from his peripheral view.

"Are you naked?!"

"Yeah, why? Is that weird?" He looked back at him, giving him as innocent a look as he could muster. He thought Draco's pale face took on a tinge of color in the grayness of the room.

"Yeah, a little…what did you think, you were going to come here and entice me with your body? It's very flattering and all, and you're not such a bad-looking bloke, but seriously, Harry, you'd think I was less than an animal to fall for that."

"Oh. I'm sorry, then. I didn't mean to insult you. I don't really know how these things go. It was just my ignorance."

"What do you mean?" Harry hid his smile in the darkness at the greedy sound in Draco's voice. Do I have your attention now, Malfoy?

"Oh, well, you know."

"No, I don't. What do you mean, 'these things?'"

Harry shrugged.

"Just, that you're my first date from the same side of town, if you get my drift. Other than casual acquaintances. I mean, I've never even kissed another man

before-"-this, of course, was not entirely true-"-at least not like that."

"Oh…right…"

Harry thought Draco sounded a little faint. Was it just his wishful imagination? Or could it be that he was now confident enough that it didn't matter?

"I guess I got a little too enthusiastic. But really, Draco, I don't want you to think I meant anything by it. I just wanted some company, you know, just to sleep, or even talk…"

"Talk?" Draco threw back his head and laughed. "All right, Potter, sure. We can talk. What do you want to talk about?"

"What it's like. I mean, for you. What's it like with a man?"

Draco lay back down, resting on his elbow.

"Depends what you mean by 'it.' Are you talking about sex? Fooling around? Kissing? Touching? Tying each other up?"

Harry felt his body heat rising, but he was pleased; Draco was teasing him again. That was good.

"All of it. What was it like for you? First of all, how did you know you liked men to begin with?"

"Ah. Well that's a whole other story. I'll tell you, but don't think you're going to worm your little way into my bed, Potter. Out here, it doesn't matter who you are."

"Well," Harry lay back down also, but was careful to keep a little respectful space between them, "I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope you might let me stay, but all the same I'd just as soon listen to you talk."

"Flattery, is that your plan? Not very original." Draco smirked, but Harry thought he must know he was actually telling the truth. Draco launched into some anecdotes that had Harry intensely entertained, and even laughing at points. After a while, he forgot about the game he was playing, and listened with wide-eyed interest, his pulse racing at some of the things Draco mentioned. He asked questions that Draco answered, and they talked late into the night. He confessed to Draco that he was a virgin, and Draco admitted that he was not.

At nine a.m., with the house still silent and the morning light seeping in through the window blinds, Harry asked Draco if he would kiss him again. Draco obliged. At nine thirty, they were still passionately making out; they rolled around in every direction on the bed, pulling up the sheets from their corners. They grabbed fistfuls of the other's hair, devouring each other's lips. They straddled one another and Draco ground against Harry's naked body, the front of his sweats rock hard as Harry stroked him. Draco pushed him to his back, and sucked his nipples as Harry moaned. They both reminded each other, whenever they took a second to catch their breath, of Draco's policy, then began kissing again and playing with each other. Harry felt time slip away as he lost himself in their passion. The very thought of he and Draco, defying all of the past, was intoxicating. It thrilled him over and over. He clung to Draco, his body craving him like heat in winter.

At nine forty-eight, Draco rolled Harry on top of him and informed him that he was revoking his policy.

At eleven o'clock, they lay in each other's arms, exhausted, drinking in the scent of the other as they closed their eyes. Harry had made love to Draco twice. He shut his eyes and listened sleepily to the silence, reveling in what they had done, how they'd cheated the rules of the game of life. Here he was, he marveled again, lying in the arms of a man who was once his most despicable rival. He was holding him like a lover, and he had lost his virginity to him. What's more, his rival had allowed him to take him, inexperienced though he was, hated though he had been, and he now lay sleepily satisfied and silent, practically purring with pleasure.

The sex had been unbelievable. At first, Harry was frozen with indecision. His frustration and arousal boiled in his skin, and yet he realized he did not have the first idea of how to make love, least of all to a man. He lay on top of Draco, furiously kissing his mouth, caressing his body, trying desperately to be inspired. As he rolled Draco onto his stomach-gently, preparing to enter him, Draco suddenly flapped his hand toward the left side of the bed.

"What's wrong?"

"Open the drawer over there, in the nightstand. There's a bottle."

Harry managed to feel around for a small vial, which he gave to Draco, who promptly swallowed its contents. Handing the empty bottle to the bewildered Harry, Draco explained how the potion easily addressed the same concerns Muggles were always obsessed with, with some added benefits. Harry had started slow, not wanting to make the mistake of letting his enthusiasm overtake his competence. Draco was an easy partner; he remained relaxed and seemed to enjoy the initial penetration. But as the pleasure mounted, Harry found the old beast rising up in him again with a new, released ferocity. His adrenaline pumped as he pounded into Draco, his thighs wet against the back of Draco's. He replayed the way Draco had teased him tonight and at the club, and thinking about their former rivalry, he had increased his thrust and speed. Draco gasped.

"What are you doing?" he'd moaned, and Harry had leaned down and whispered, "Paying you back." They had reached a throbbing climax, slowing as their bodies wracked in uncontrollable spasms. They held it in as they came, Draco following Harry.

The second time, Harry was determined to outlast Draco. More comfortable now, he let himself go, enjoying the rhythm of their love-making. He clutched at Draco's hair and stroked his back and neck affectionately, leaning down to kiss it and whisper in his ear. They lasted longer this time, the thrusts faster toward the end. The bed creaked underneath them, and Harry wondered if they would be heard by Simone or even Paul, downstairs. He longed to let go and thrust hard into the mattress. They came even harder than before. Draco had let out a muffled groan, burying his face into a pillow, while Harry had stifled his own cries against Draco's drenched neck.

At ten after eleven, Draco rolled over to face Harry, pulled in close, and kissed him deeply on the lips before dropping off to sleep.

At eleven twelve, Harry wiped his damp eyes with his palm and followed suit, falling deeply, deliciously asleep. He awoke at two.

"…must have left early," a tiny male voice was saying as if from very far away.

"No, he's still asleep. He's upstairs."

"Where?"

"Where else?"

"You shagged him?!"

"Don't be a git. Are you making more?"

"There wasn't much as it was in the tin. Want coffee?"

"Is there anything else?"

"Indian spiced."

"Give me that."

Harry realized he must be hearing the voices through a grating in the room, as he so often had when he lived with the Dursleys. Draco's voice was quieter than the other's, but unmistakable. He wasn't certain, but guessed that the other voice was Simone's. Was Paul down there as well? How much had Draco told them? He felt too comfortable to move, but he wished Draco would return. The fact that the world was already up and moving about, the day rushing forward, was somewhat depressing.

"I can't believe you shagged him, Draco," the other voice was saying. It seemed to be moving about the room. Harry figured they must be in the kitchen. He heard another muffled voice that was low, and guessed that Paul was with them, but he couldn't make out his words.

"…none of your business, is it? And who says I shagged him? I didn't say it."

"You implied it."

"No. You always jump to the most obvious conclusion."

Paul made some comment at which the two of them laughed.

"-all I'm saying is, you'd better be careful, Malfoy. You looked a little star struck this morning."

Another muffled comment.

"I'm not subdued. I'm groggy. Anyway, you needn't worry about me. Potter's the one you ought to worry about. He's the one who's all naïve. Wanted to ask me some questions, is all."

Harry perked up, his heartbeat picking up. Was Draco going to betray him now?

"You know better, Malfoy. That's all I'm saying. You know better than to let your tricks get too close. What happens if you fall for him, and he leaves? What then? Do you want another Mackeroy?"

"I know what I'm doing. And, despite what you might think, he's not some 'trick.' He's an old friend. Nothing more. At least not for now."

But though they pushed him and insisted on hearing details, Draco would tell them nothing. Harry thought perhaps it was time for him to go downstairs and end the awkward conversation. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to eavesdrop any longer, anyway. Better he never knew how Draco might have answered if they bothered him long enough…

"Good morning," he mumbled as he wandered into the kitchen. All three faces were turned to him: Draco was leaning almost sullenly against the kitchen counter, facing the door; Paul was sitting on the counter next to him, and Simone was standing next to the refrigerator, a carton of milk in his hand. He was greeted also by a pleasant, sweet smell that reminded him of cinnamon. "Something smells good," he added, ignoring their stares. He glanced at Draco, who looked away, and shrugged, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

"Morning, Harry. Sleep well?" Paul asked, seeming more alert than the previous night.

"Beautifully. Is that tea you're making?" Simone nodded, and handed him a mug.

"Thanks."

"We were just talking about you-" Paul cut off sharply, and as Harry looked up, he thought Draco had smacked him.

"Wondering whether or not you were going to sleep all day," Simone finished.

"I thought about it. Draco's bed is rather comfortable…" he grinned, and caught Draco's eye. Draco smiled, and he beamed, not minding the snickers.

"I wouldn't know."

"Neither would I."

"Oh really? Hmm, that's odd. Why is that?"

"Well, you see, Draco has this 'policy-'"

"I made an exception for Harry. He didn't want to sleep by himself, is all. And anything more than that is none of your business."

Draco was giving Paul a threatening glare, but Harry had a feeling there wasn't much heart in it. He thought, as the two of them left the room, that Draco looked considerably more relaxed and happier than he'd probably ever seen him. He felt warm all over with a certain tenderness, which brought butterflies to his stomach. Could I be falling in love with him? He wondered, as he sipped his tea…

At three thirty, Paul left, saying he had to get back home before his parents began to wonder about him. Shortly after that, Harry began to wonder if he should leave as well. He, Simone and Draco had been sitting in near silence in the living room, watching a program in German. It was on sports bloopers, so they were able to enjoy it, but aside from occasional commentary, they did not have much to say. He wondered if what had happened that morning was finally over, and grew sad. Finally, after another half hour, he stood up and suggested that he'd better get going. The other two stood as well.

"I'd best be off as well, Draco."

"I think I'll be catching up on my sleep, anyway. I have to leave tomorrow morning. Got to pack."

"You're going back to England?" Harry stood in the hallway, where he found his jacket hanging from a claw-like, bronze hand. Simone was already halfway out of the door. He glanced back.

"Good to meet you, Harry. You'll have to come back again, with Draco."

"I'd love that."

Simone left.

Draco was looking at Harry, his expression as unreadable as usual, but Harry thought there was an air of shyness between them.

"Not quite yet. I have some more traveling to do. Thought I'd take a year off or so, see where the wind takes me."

"That must be nice. I wish I could do that."

"What's stopping you?"

Harry shrugged.

"Responsibility, I guess. Expectations."

"The Ministry."

"Among other things."

"So I reckon. Well, what of you and that Weasley woman? I thought I heard something about you being engaged?"

"Oh, Ginny? Oh. Well, there was some attempt at it; we decided it would be best to give it a few more years, see what's right. At least, I think that's what we agreed, last time I talked to her-"

"So you're still, technically, engaged?"

"No, no…I never really was, is all."

"Ah."

After another awkward silence, Harry could stand it no longer. He moved in toward Draco, hoping somehow to convey in his face what he could not seem to express in words. He'll probably think you're pathetic. Shut up, he told himself.

"Draco. Thank you. For this morning. For everything. I really enjoyed being with all of you."

Draco smiled, blushing slightly. He seemed determined to remain nonchalant.

"Glad I could help. You weren't bad, you know. Lucky for you."

Harry grinned, but he felt uneasy. Was this really the end? Was everything amounting to some kind of one night stand?

"I was hoping…I don't know, if you even want to. I mean, I'm sure you have other things going on, but I'd love it if sometime, when you're back I mean, or even before, maybe I could visit you again?"

"Sure. I don't see why not."

"Great, great." Harry nodded, staring vacantly past Draco's shoulder into the flat. He wondered if he should kiss him goodbye. If he did, Draco might laugh at him. But if he didn't, and they never saw each other again, he would undoubtedly regret it. So he did. He put a hand on Draco's neck, and pulled them together, kissing his lips tenderly. Draco allowed it, and when Harry let him go, he smiled. Still, he seemed reserved, and Harry felt his heart sink. So this was it. Fine. Might as well hold nothing back, then.

He stepped outside into the chill, the sunlight making him squint. It was a gorgeous day. The streets were busier than before as people went up and down the streets in mostly business attire. Cars honked at the pedestrians, who lazily crossed, chattering animatedly with companions or looking lost in thought if alone. He turned around to face Draco again, and though the gray eyes held something under the surface, something that mirrored his own bittersweet fondness.

"So, is this it then?"

Draco gazed down the street for a moment, seeming to consider. Then he looked back, a surprisingly vulnerable frown on his face.

"I suppose it doesn't have to be…" he sounded uncertain.

Of course! He's just as afraid as I am, Harry thought with the delight of epiphany. He suddenly felt like whistling.

"Good. Because I don't want it to be. So promise me you'll look me up. I don't want to have to wait another seven years for you to come around, Draco Malfoy."

Draco beamed, the sunlight outshone by the smooth lines of his handsome face.

"You won't."

THE END