Hello loves. A thousand pardons, I beg of you. *bows* I've been horribly neglectful of all of you wonderful readers. But! In my defense, life has been hectic beyond belief. As in, basic-military-training-and-no-access-to-the-internet hectic beyond belief. This wayward author of yours is officially and proudly attending college at one of our great nation's prestigious military academies! (I won't say which one, as of yet…although I highly doubt that any of my commanding officers are among my readers. I'm not sure how the academy would feel about my writing to you, so I'd rather stay safe than sorry.) I will wear my uniform proudly, and do my damndest to update on a more regular schedule. (on another side note, Don't Ask, Don't Tell has been officially repealed! Thank goodness for the small victories)

ANYWAY! I didn't own them when I started writing this…goodness, ages ago (sorrysorrysorry)… and I do not own them now.

Warning. This story contains public displays of affection between two males, and there is no "guy love" playing in the background. This is not friendly back slaps between "bros". This cannot be ignored as reading too much into a close friendship. THIS. IS. GAY. *kicks homophobes into giant pit*

welcome.

It was with his usual confidence that Draco walked into the Great Hall the next morning, but the cool-eyed boy was shaking with nerves on the inside. It wasn't the prospect of "coming out" to the school with Potty on his arm that was so daunting. After all, the school was well aware of his lack of discretion when it came to his bed partners, so it wasn't really much of a "coming out". Then again, there might be some stir over the implied lack of red-headed babies in their supposedly straight Savior's future…but that would probably be forgotten in the wake of the shock from their precious Golden Boy fraternizing with the "enemy". He had even clued the select few Slytherins who mattered in on the plan, so there was no worry about dissention in his ranks- although most of them would have been thrilled about him "corrupting" Dumbledore's favorite pet regardless of whether or not they could see the bigger, grander picture. No, it wasn't the Slytherins or his reputation that had his palms sweating. It was the prospect of crossing that line into the lion's den and having to play the part of the reformed, doting boyfriend in the face of Gryfindor wrath. Namely poor, freckled Gryfindor wrath. Namely poor, freckled, aggressive Gryfindor wrath when he couldn't lift a wand to defend himself.

Taking a moment to check and make sure that the dozens of protective charms he had cast on himself were still in effect- after all, even crushing Potter wasn't worth physical harm- he sauntered toward the Gryfindor table with his head high and his trademark smirk in place. Potter saw him coming, and his green eyes widened and sparked with nerves as he shot furtive glances at his still-oblivious friends. Another few steps and he was standing at Potter's back, placing his hands on the table and caging Potter- no, better start calling him Harry to avoid slip-ups- between his arms. Conversation died and all the eyes at the Gryfindor table, and then slowly the entire Great Hall, turned toward them. Draco ignored them all for the moment, his smirk softening as Po-Harry turned his head to look up at him with a small, nervous smile. Knowing that if he didn't play his part perfectly P-Harry was still in danger of bolting, Draco dropped a soft kiss on Harry's upturned face and slid into the space between him and a shocked Longbottom. The mudblood's glass hit the table and cracked before rolling to the floor, and the bloodtraitors…only two of them, and Salazaar, but he was glad the rest of the lot weren't there…were turning the most unbecoming shades of red.

"What's the matter Weaselbee?" He drawled, wrapping a lazy arm around Harry's waist and feigning innocence. "Forgotten how to breathe?"

The Weasel's face turned, if that was even possible, an even angrier shade of red. Burgundy, if Draco wasn't mistaken. He wondered idly if the prat would pop a blood vessel.

"Draco!" Harry protested.

He turned to him with an eyebrow raised in a silent "what did I do?" but sighed and pressed a kiss into Harry's messy hair in apology. "That was rude of me. I meant to say, dear me, Weaslebee old boy, are you quite all right?"

Weasley sputtered, and his bushy haired girlfriend had lost her stunned look and was glancing between him and Harry through narrowed eyes. The speculating look unnerved him, and Draco quickly factored in another aspect to his plan. Harry had good instincts, and he would have to work very hard to fool them, but Granger…she was shrewd in ways that the disgustingly trusting Harry was not. He would have to always be on guard around her.

Draco glanced at Harry, rolled his eyes at the obvious nerves dancing across his face, and tucked the smaller boy more firmly against his side. Warmth bled into him, and Draco took a moment to enjoy the feeling of a hard body pressed close to him before turning to face the problem at hand. Or rather, the two blatantly hostile, potential catastrophes and the several hundred smaller problems at hand.

"Look...Weasley, Granger," he started, hoping that his face and voice were neutral, or even moderately friendly, and not as strained as he felt. "This is complicated enough as it is, so let's not make it any worse, shall we? Weasley, if you'd be so kind as to put your wand away…and Weaslette," he arched an eyebrow at the furious girl sitting a few feet down the table. "Let's put the butter knife down, shall we? There's a good ginger."

He had a brief moment to enjoy the fury spasming across the Potter-obsessed bint's face before her brother snarled and attempted to launch himself across the table at Draco. Granger grabbed the back of his robes and yanked him back, but Draco was on his feet with his wand trained on the fuming redhead anyway. Harry made a distressed sound and, quickly standing, placed a restraining hand on Draco's wand arm.

"Guys, please." he pleaded with his friends, then turned hard eyes on Draco. "Malfoy, for Godric's sake, put your wand away!" he hissed.

Draco met his gaze evenly, resisting the hand trying to push his arm down, but there was steel in Harry's face and he had come too far to ruin everything by being stubborn now. Slowly, he dropped his arm to his side and let his wand dangle from lax fingers.

"So it's 'Malfoy' again?" he asked, pitching his voice low and pleading for Harry's ears alone. The Gryfindor's face, predictably, softened, and he took Draco's hand and pulled him back down to sit on the bench.

"I'm sorry. Draco. But can we try not to start a fight?"

Draco smiled, partially because the Golden Boy was so easy to manipulate, and partially because the sap was already thinking of them as a unit, if he was referring to Draco's fight with a "we". Harry, oblivious to the reasons behind the smile, took it as agreement and easily leaned back into Draco's offered embrace. The blonde shot a small smirk at the Weasels, as both brother and sister were fairly gaping at Harry's casual use of his first name, and rested his chin on the top of that mat of dark hair. Closing his eyes and breathing in the sweet scent of Harry's shampoo, Draco found that schooling his face into a mask of affectionate contentment wasn't as hard as he had thought it would be. A part of him was disturbed that pretending to dote on his schoolyard rival came so easy to him, but he quickly dismissed it as a credit to his acting abilities.

Shifting so that he could press chaste kisses to the smaller boy's temple, he whispered "How about you tell them, babe? I'm afraid that anything I say will just bollocks it up." Harry pulled his head back to look at him incredulously.

"…babe?"

Draco smirked. "What? Can't I call you that?"

Harry shook his head, a small, self-conscience smile playing around his lips. "I suppose you can…it's just…weird."

Draco laughed quietly. "Babe, everything about this is weird." Harry snorted, and was opening his mouth to reply, a teasing glint in his eyes, when Weasley finally stopped his sputtering and found his voice.

"What the bloody FUCK is going on? What the hell do you think you're doing Malfoy? Have you lost your bleedin mind?" he spat his name like it was poison "And Harry…Harry, mate…why are you letting him touch you like that? Is he…did he ki…kiss you? Like he…what…what the fuck?"

Draco bit the inside of his cheek harshly to keep himself from laughing. Harry and Granger were both trying to get the enraged Weasley to keep his voice down, but if anything he kept getting louder. Somewhere in the midst of his swearing and stuttering and accusing Draco of every evil under the sun, Harry got frustrated.

"Oh for the love of…would you please SHUT UP?"

Weasley stopped, his rant cut short, and stared at his friend. The great hall was silent, all murmuring and speculation stopped in favor of listening to the Boy-Who-Lived. Lowering his voice, Harry continued.

"Please, Ron…just be quiet and listen for once." He ran an agitated hand through his hair before settling it over his eyes and leaning his elbow against the table.

"Look, guys…the thing is…well," he faltered, and Draco began rubbing circles against his back. He vaguely remembered his mother doing that for him, back when he was young enough that such demonstrations of affection were still acceptable. It had calmed him down. Apparently it helped Harry, too, because he shot him a grateful look before turning back to his friends. He took a deep breath, and Draco could practically see him summoning the famed Gryfindor courage.

"the thing is that Draco's kinda been following me around a lot in the last few months, and he hasn't been a…well, he hasn't been a complete prat. We've been talking a bit, an-" Weasley held out a hand and cut Harry off.

"Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait. Malfoy's been stalking you? Why the hell didn't you tell us?"

Harry stared at his friend incredulously. "What? No! He wasn't stalking me, he was just…" he stopped, blinked, then turned and looked at Draco. "Actually…you were kind of stalking me."

"Well, I wouldn't call it stalking, per say…"

"Draco. You were stalking me! I'm dating a stalker!"

"I'm not a stalker!" "You're DATING him?"

Draco glared at the Weasel for daring to talk over him, and tightened his hold on the brunette in his arms. Said brunette was hiding his face in his palm again, his ears bright red. A shocked murmur rippled through the great hall, but a thick silence had descended over the Gryfindor table. Jaws were hanging open, food was left forgotten on plates and forks, and the red flush spread form Harry's ears to his cheeks and down his neck under the weight of a hundred stares. Just as the tension began to become oppressive, the silence over the table was broken by an almost inhuman shriek. Draco's wand was out before he even figured out where the threat was, and this time Harry didn't reach out to restrain him.

The female Weasel, a snide part of Draco's mind quipped, had never looked so unattractive. For once, though, he decided to keep that observation to himself, because damn if he wasn't a little afraid right now. Having been on the receiving end of the witch's bat-bogey hex before, Draco was not eager to face her wrath a second time. She raised her wand with a hand shaking with barely contained rage, and used it to point at Draco accusingly.

"You!" she shrieked "you lying, slimy bastard! How dare you! How dare you come here and imply that Harry would ever be interested in a death eater like you!"

Harry stood and stepped in front of Draco, holding his hands out and murmuring her name in a soothing voice in an attempt to calm her down. Frowning, Draco stood as well, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder and pressing close behind him.

"Okay, first of all, I'm not a-" "MISS WEASLEY!"

Draco had never been so happy to be interrupted by his Godfather. In typical dungeon-bat style, Snape was in the middle of the argument with a swirl of black robes and potion fumes, and coolly plucked the wand out of Weasely's hand. She flushed, her skin blotchy and red, and continued to glare daggers at Draco. He smirked back at her, but a warning glare from Snape wiped the sneer off of his face.

"Mister Malfoy. Care to explain what you are doing at the Gryfindor table?"

Harry stiffened and Draco swallowed hard. This…was not a conversation he had planned to have with an audience. He shot a pleading look at the man who was a second father to him. He got a raised eyebrow for his efforts. Damn.

"Mister Malfoy. I'm waiting."

Read, review, please don't yell at me too much for my obscenely long leave of absence. It's good to be back.