Mature sexual content herein; do not proceed if you can't handle that!!

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Draco awoke the next day in what used to be his mother's room, but for the first time since her death, her memories caused Draco only a tiny pang of remorse. It hardly seemed possible that not five days ago, he had been living in a place a quarter the size of the manor, living a life that he somehow knew was incomplete. It felt like centuries had passed since he first opened that horrible notice from the Ministry telling him his mother had been murdered.

Draco's day was more boring than usual, and seemed to drag on for lifetimes. It might have been because he was anxious about the evening—he had replied to Potter's short message with one just as short as the first. Pick me up at 8:00.

By the time he had finished at St. Mungo's and made arrangements for his mother's funeral, it was seven-thirty. He had hurried home from the funeral home, took a quick shower, and dressed for his 'date'.

Draco was nervous. He was hoping that Potter wanted to start some sort of relationship with him, but didn't want to make any sort of assumptions when it came to Potter. Draco had changed clothes four times before Artemis had finally informed him that a Mr. Potter had arrived.

"I'll be right down then," Draco said, brushing some nonexistent lint off of his plain black trousers (he had finally decided on a semi casual look for the night, opting for his favorite blue turtle neck to go with his trousers).

He descended the grand staircase soon after to see Potter waiting patiently at the foot of the stairs, a large grin plastered on his face. Draco smiled in welcome.

"Hello Potter," he said.

"You'd think, since we are about to go on our first date, that you could call me Harry," was the answer he received.

Draco grinned, feeling some of his tension melt away.

"All right then. Hello Harry."

"Hey Draco."

Potter-Harry ran a hand through his hair as he cast a glance around the entrance hall.

"You ready?" he asked when his piercing gaze fixed itself on Draco again. Draco nodded his head.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he swept by Harry and grabbed his black blazer from the hat stand by the doors.

Potter caught his wrist and swept him into a sudden embrace as soon as Draco had slipped on his jacket. Instinctively, Draco's arms wrapped themselves around Harry's neck as he felt the brunet's arms settle around his waist.

"It's a surprise," Harry whispered into his ear; a shiver ran down Draco's spine and he tightened his hold on Harry's neck. Draco managed to quirk an eyebrow.

"Really, now? Well wherever we go, you're paying."

Harry chuckled (and really, that sound was not nearly as sexy as his body was telling him it was), and with a small pop, they were gone.

They reappeared on the outskirts of a city that Draco did not recognize. He held on to Harry for a few seconds longer than necessary, relishing in the feel of his body pressed securely against the other man's. Harry moved away reluctantly, but took hold of Draco's hand as they walked out of the dark alley.

"Where are we?" Draco asked after a moment of silence.

"It's called Maiden's Marsh," Harry explained, sending Draco another of his dazzling smiles. "It's the wizarding district of Leicester. I've a friend who owns a restaurant out here, and when I first tried the food, I fell in love with it."

"Did you now?" Draco asked as they came upon a chic black building with the words Á La Lune displayed across the top in white.

They entered the restaurant, and as Harry spoke to one of the servers, Draco examined the place. The black square tables and high backed matching chairs gave the place a definite contemporary feeling. The walls were painted a soft cream color, and were decorated with various contemporary pieces of art in black frames. Draco was impressed.

"Right this way Mr. Potter," the server said and led them to a quiet corner of the establishment, where most of the tables were empty. "Your waiter will be with you shortly, and I'll inform the owners that you're here."

Harry smiled and nodded politely to the man, who sauntered off as if his was the most important job in the world.

"So what do you think?" Harry asked as they sat.

"I like it," Draco answered, and Harry smirked.

"I hoped you would," Harry said. "Neville owns the place."

"Longbottom?" Draco asked as a waiter came by and set two glasses of water by their plates.

Harry said nothing; he only nodded as his eyes swept around the room, no doubt categorizing every detail about the night. Draco wondered if it was a habit he had picked up from the war, or if he had started mirroring Shacklebolt when he was named Head Auror. A few minutes passed in silence before a woman's dreamy voice filtered over to their table.

"Harry, it's nice to see you again."

A woman with long blonde hair braided down to her lower back and large blue eyes drifted by and came to a stop by their table.

"Luna, it's been a while," Harry said, nodding.

She set her overly-large eyes on Draco, and she smiled in a dreamy way.

"You're Draco Malfoy," she said.

"Yes, I am," Draco said, wracking his brain, trying to remember why her somewhat vacant expression looked vaguely familiar.

"This is Luna Lovegood, Draco" Harry said by way of introduction. Luna inclined her head at the mention of her name, and turned back to Harry.

"Soon to be Luna Longbottom now," she said softly, lifting her left hand and showing off a simple gold band on her ring finger. She smiled absently. "Oh, and Neville hasn't been feeling too good this past week Harry. He stayed home. I'm sorry you missed him."

"Oh, it's ok Luna," he answered. "And congratulations! Have you set the wedding date yet?"

"No. He said he wants it to be sometime in the summer, and I told him that would be best because of all of the Womper-Mites that hide in the snow."

"That's really great Luna," Harry said, as if the woman had said nothing at all strange. Luna just nodded.

"I'll tell the chef to start making the Special. What do you want to drink?"

Harry turned to Draco expectantly.

"I'm horrible with wines," he said by way of explanation.

"What are we having then?"

"Chevreuil Rôtit," Luna answered.

Draco looked through the wine list and selected a red wine made of blackberries. Luna nodded and said vaguely that she'd have their waiter bring them everything they'd need. Then she floated off, as if she had remembered something mildly interesting on the other side of the room.

"So," Draco asked when he was sure Luna would not be able to hear him, "what exactly is a Womper-Mite?"

Harry shrugged as he took a sip of water.

"Not sure," he said. "But I find it's easiest to pretend you know exactly what it is she's talking about when she goes on about those types of things. Otherwise, you just get confused and frustrated."

Draco smirked.

"Of course," Draco said as the waiter came by with their wine.

Harry took a drink from his wine glass and nodded his approval.

"It's good," Harry said.

"Thanks," Draco said; Harry only rolled his eyes. "The funeral's Sunday morning," Draco said after a moment of silence. "It starts at seven."

"Oh," Harry said, eyes fixed on Draco. "Do you want me to go with you?"

Draco was silent for a moment, trying to find his voice over the lump that had formed in the back of his throat.

"Yes," he finally said in a small voice as the waiter served them their steaming plates of delicious smelling food. "That is, if you want to."

"Of course I want to Draco," Harry said, reaching across the table and gently grasping Draco's hand, which was messing with the white tablecloth. "I want to be there for you."

Draco smiled reluctantly.

"Do you know who did it yet?" he asked after a moment. Harry's grip tightened on his for a moment.

"No," he finally said. "I don't know the exact details of the case, since I'm not on the investigation team, but I do know that they're looking into a few possible suspects."

"Oh," Draco said.

Gently, he pulled his hand out of Harry's grasp and picked up his knife and fork.

"Let's not talk about it tonight," Draco said, well aware that he was the one who had brought the subject up in the first place. "We're not going to have any awkward pauses tonight Potter."

"Oh really?" Harry asked with a doubtful expression on his face.

"Really. We are going to have intelligent and thought-provoking conversations tonight, like normal, civilized adults."

Harry picked up his fork and poked at his food.

"Whatever you say," Harry said. "So, first off then, what exactly is 'Shevrue Rotee'?"

"Chevreuil Rôtit," Draco corrected, "And it's roasted deer. Don't look at me like that; it's really good. Honestly," he added at the face Harry was making.

He took a bite to emphasize his point. Harry followed suite, and was sooon smiling despite himself.

"You're right, it is good, actually," Harry said around his mouthful of food. Draco smirked.

"Told you it would be," Draco said. Harry smiled at him, but said nothing in response. He only took another bite of his meal.

Draco was surprised. For the past two hours, he and Harry had actually talked, and talked about things besides the war. They had argued about the philosophy of Dark Arts, wand theory, the exact magical properties of unicorn's blood, and even possible ways to regain memories when Obliviated. Harry was surprisingly intelligent.

Not that Draco had ever thought him stupid; it was just that he hadn't had anyone to argue wand theory with in so long; for a while he thought that he must just be crazy to desire a fervent intellectual argument of that sort. But with Harry, Draco could talk about all of his ideas and philosophies, and he would listen intently, offering criticisms and suggestions that Draco hadn't even thought of.

"You know, for the longest time, I wanted to write a book on the philosophy of the Dark Arts," Draco said as they finished off their desserts (chocolate soufflés with sparkling champagne).

"I think you should," Harry said earnestly. "If you still want to of course. I know that you'd probably be really busy with that news station you work at after you get off of probation and everything, but I'm sure it would be a fascinating read."

Draco flushed slightly and smiled.

"Why thank you Harry," he said in a pseudo-cordial manner. "I am honored by your compliments."

"Prat," Harry said, rolling his eyes. He smirked deviously. "And you know what you should call it?"

"What?" Draco asked, already unsure if he wanted to know from the mischievous look on Harry's face.

"Why Turning On the Lights Isn't Always a Good Thing: A Practical Guide to Dark Magic."

Draco snorted into his wine glass, unable to help himself. He shook his head, laughing.

"You are daft," was all he could manage to say before a fit of silent laughter overtook him.

The waiter came by and set their bill on the table. Harry pulled out a Muggle wallet and put a Muggle credit card into the little black folder.

"Neville says that it's a lot easier to work with Muggle money," Harry answered Draco's unspoken question at the look on his face. Harry shrugged. "Probably because Gringotts is too old-fashioned to start using debit cards and whatnot."

Draco nodded.

"Lucius used to know the wizard Head of Affairs at Gringotts," he said. "If you wanted, I could probably send him an owl with your suggestion. It'd have to be sometime after my probation, since he would probably be more open to suggestions at that time."

Harry gave him a strange look.

"I'm sure he'd reply to you if you sent him an owl," Harry said earnestly. Draco nearly laughed until he realized that Harry was being serious.

"Harry, the man was friends with Lucius."

"Exactly," Harry argued. "Wouldn't that mean he would be one of the only people who wouldn't think bad of you? I mean, he works at Gringotts. He knows how much money you have."

Draco smiled.

"It's a logical assumption," he conceded. "But it's a Gryffindor-ish one."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, when you look at it from a Slytherin standpoint, there are two flaws in that argument. One is that you assume he was loyal to my father, when he wasn't. They exchanged favors, mostly involving money, true, but once Lucius landed himself in Azkaban, he lost that loyalty. No one wants to be affiliated with Death Eaters and Voldemort in any way, in case you haven't noticed."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, I didn't notice that," Harry said. "You see, I have the utmost pleasure of having a job that doesn't have anything to do with that sort of thing."

"Sarcasm does not suite you Potter," Malfoy replied with a smirk. Potter finished off his wine in response.

"What's the second reason then?"

"My money will still be around after my probation ends, once I'm given a proverbial 'clean slate'. Who would want to speak to me now when they can wait a few months to speak to me and have it be socially acceptable?"

"I would," Harry said softly. Draco flushed in response.

"Yes, well, you never did follow the rules."

The waiter returned and handed Harry back his credit card with an imperial nod. Harry thanked the man and stood, sending Draco a coy smile. Draco's pulse quickened.

"So, where to now?" he asked when they had exited the small restaurant.

"Wherever," Harry answered, slipping his hand into Draco's as they walked. "It's still early. We could go catch a movie, Muggle or Wizarding, or we could go to a pub if you wanted, or we could go back to my place if you want to stay in…"

Draco slid his arms around Harry's neck, surprised at how completely natural the motion seemed. It felt as if he had been with Harry for ages, and that this was their thousandth date, not their first.

"Your place," he whispered into Harry's ear, and delighted in the tiny shiver it caused in the other man. Harry nodded and Apparated them away.

They reappeared in a cozy flat, but Draco had no time to study it in detail. Before he knew it, Harry was kissing him again, and this was the kiss he fully expected from his old school rival. This was a challenge, a duel so and full of passion and heat and gods, he needed more.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him along as he made his way into Harry's bedroom. Harry pulled away for air as he sat down heavily on the bed, dragging Draco down with him. Draco took advantage of Harry's exposed neck and started laving at his pulse point. Harry moaned incoherently and lay down fully on the bed with Draco draped on top of him.

Draco could feel the bulge of Harry's arousal through his jeans, and he aligned himself so that his own erection brushed up against Harry's and straddled his hips. They both groaned at the friction the motion produced. Harry's hands left their spot on Draco's hips and began to tuck at Draco's shirt impatiently. Draco smiled. He released Harry for the time it took for them both to pull off their shirts, and resumed his quiet exploration of Harry's body. He ran his tongue along Harry's jaw and collarbone as Harry's hands found their way into his hair.

"Oh gods, Draco." Harry was writhing beneath him, thrusting his hips upwards for more contact.

Draco whispered a spell and both of their trousers and pants vanished.

"Yes," Draco hissed and shifted so that Harry's cock was brushing against his arse.

"Fuck me Harry," he whispered into Harry's ear, before taking his earlobe into his mouth and suckling it gently.

"Yes," Harry answered.

In an instant Draco felt himself stretched and slicked with a silent spell from the other wizard, and Draco's cock gave a nearly painful throb in anticipation. Draco lifted himself and slowly lowered himself onto Harry. Inch by glorious inch, Harry's cock disappeared inside of him, until Draco was sitting in Harry's lap and panting slightly, his hands ghosting over Harry's stomach and chest.

"Gods Draco," Harry panted, his hands running up and down Draco's back. "You feel amazing."

"Mmm, so do you," he replied, and slowly began to move.

And Merlin, it had been a long time since Draco had had sex with anyone, and Harry felt so good underneath him, thrusting up to meet him as they set a fast pace that Draco wasn't sure how long he would last. He crashed his lips back onto Harry's, needing to feel more of the man underneath him; Harry shifted slightly and grazed that spot deep within Draco that caused sparks of intensity to flood him.

"Fuck, yes Harry," Draco murmured between kisses. Their movements became more erratic, and Draco thought he heard ringing in his ears as a delicious heat began to coil up inside of him—

But then Harry let out a frustrated growl and faltered in his movements, and Draco realized that the ringing wasn't just his ears; it was Harry's mobile.

"Draco—" he said, but Draco cut him off with a fierce kiss, his hands gripping Harry's waist so tightly he thought he might leave bruises.

"Don't you dare," Draco managed to pant, keeping up the rhythm from before, though the threat of orgasm had receded slightly. "Don't even fucking think about it."

"Mmm…But what if it's important?" Harry groaned. Draco tweaked one of Harry's dark nipples, causing Harry to arch off the bed and thrust into Draco faster.

"What…is more important than…this?" Draco asked, feeling his climax nearing again.

Harry didn't reply, he only thrust up into Draco's body harder, grazing Draco's prostate again and again. Then Harry's hand was on Draco's weeping cock, and it only took a couple of hard strokes before Draco was coming. He felt Harry give one more hard push, and he was climaxing as well, spurting his seed deep inside of Draco.

Draco collapsed atop his spent lover, waiting for the stars to vanish from his eyesight. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's lithe form, and began dropping tiny chaste kisses along his jaw line.

"That was nice," Draco sighed, letting his eyes drift shut.

"Just nice?" Harry asked, and even with his eyes closed, Draco could hear the tiny pout in the question.

"Mmm, fantastic, amazing, earth-shattering," Draco amended, his brain already shutting down. He rolled off of Harry, feeling his flaccid cock pull out of Draco's body. He curled up into the crook of Harry's side, draping a leg around the other man.

I could get used to this, Draco thought as Harry's hands began to trace lazy circles across his back.

Draco was just drifting off to sleep when he heard an annoyingly familiar voice echo through the flat.

"Potter! Are you there? Where in the bloody hell are you?" Scrimegour's angry voice called from the living room.

"Fuck," Harry muttered. "He must have been who was calling earlier."

"Pretend you're not home," Draco said, but Harry was already extracting himself from Draco's body.

"I have to answer him," Harry said, looking around for his pants. "He only ever firecalls if it's urgent."

"Fine," Draco pouted. Harry stopped his search and placed a kiss on Draco's lips.

"I'll be right back," he said, finding an old pair of jeans and pulling them on. He cast a quick cleaning charm on himself to get rid of Draco's cum drying on his stomach before leaving the room.

"What is it Minister?" Draco heard Harry say from his spot the bed. Draco pulled back the sheets of the bed and made himself comfortable, intent on drifting back to sleep.

"Where have you been Potter? I've been trying to reach you for the past hour! I finally had Auror Weasley give me your, what-do-you-call-it, sell-you-lar foam number—"

"Cellular phone number," Harry corrected. Draco smiled and snuggled deeper into Harry's blankets.

"Yes, well, whatever it is. Have you thought about my Amendment to the War Laws?"

"Yes, I have," Harry answered crossly. "And I stand by what I said before. I think it's a horrible idea."

"Of course you do Potter." Scrimegour sounded exhilarated, as though he was about to say something that he knew Harry would hate. "And since my Head Auror declined to sign the Amendment, I had to go through the Wizengamot to get it approved."

"You actually got those bloody idiots to approve that rubbish?" Harry asked, but there was something other than anger in his voice now. Draco sat up, curious. Did Harry sound worried?

"Yes; it wasn't all that difficult," Scrimegour's voice said. "It'll be in the Prophet by tomorrow morning, I suppose." Scrimegour laughed in a decidedly evil manner.

"You've gone mad," Harry answered bitterly. "You're only passing this amendment because you know I don't approve!"

"Exactly Potter. Be sure you remember. As long as I am Minister for Magic, my authority is total. By this time next month, every Death Eater sentenced to life in Azkaban will be dead, or without a soul because you thought to undermine me. Have a nice night."

Draco felt his blood turn cold. He was vaguely aware of Harry cursing obscenities into what was probably a now empty fireplace, but he wasn't really listening. The bottom of his stomach suddenly felt like steel. Every Death Eater… Within a month--? He couldn't lose them both. It wasn't possible; no. Not after Narcissa—

And then, with a sudden jolt of dread coursing through his veins, he remembered Narcissa's last request of him.

Watch over your father for me. Keep him safe.

Draco clenched his jaw.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Potter stood silhouetted against the living room light. He must have seen the haunted look on Draco's face, because in an instant he was on the bed beside him, arms holding Draco tight.

"Oh Draco," he whispered, but Draco barely heard him. "I'm so sorry. I promise I did everything I could."

Draco nodded, at a loss for words. His heart was wrenching in a strange mix of fear, grief, disbelief and dread.

Watch over your father for me. Keep him safe.

Draco barely heard Harry's questions; he only nodded vaguely at all of them. Soon, he was lying on his side with Harry pressed against his back, an arm wrapped protectively around Draco's middle.

Keep him safe.

Draco suppressed the urge to cry out in anger. How could she leave him a task like this? Draco knew Harry was not yet asleep. He would probably wait until he was sure Draco had fallen asleep before drifting off himself, in case Draco needed him. His heart wrenched; he did not want to betray this man's trust. He was not sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the lines; he had gained deep, all-consuming feelings for this man lying beside him in just a few short days.

Keep him safe.

"Harry?" he asked weakly what felt like hours later. Harry tightened his hold on Draco to show that he was awake and listening. "Could I…Would you…be able to get me into Azkaban…To see him…before…?"

Harry placed a soft kiss on the back of Draco's neck that was so tender Draco had to close his eyes against the torrent of grief that sprung up inside his heart.

"Of course."

"Thank you," he said in a small voice, hoping he sounded grief-stricken and not afraid.

Keep him safe.

He sighed and placed his hand on top of Harry's where it was lying on his stomach. He would not think of it now; hopefully, by tomorrow he would be able to analyze this situation properly, and not compromise his status in the wizarding world. Not find himself in a position where he would have to choose between his family and his new lover; his new life.

Watch over your father for me. Keep him safe.

Draco doubted it was possible. But he would have to try.