He shouldn't have told Hermione.

It was a mistake, putting his stupid crush out into the world like that. Because in the days since he'd confirmed it, made it concrete, it had had taken on a life of its own. It had grown from something almost fun, to something almost painful.

Now that he'd acknowledged that he felt something for Malfoy, all of the little things he'd noticed about the man were now things. Things he found attractive, that mattered. His wrists, for Merlin's sake. Harry was attracted to Draco's wrists. He found them mesmerising, how Draco gestured with his long hands, pivoting from thin wrists, the bones pronounced, tendons visible, veins showing blue through his thin skin…

He really shouldn't have told Hermione.

Had he forgotten how much she liked to meddle?


Dearest Draco

I'm not going to write you a proper letter, because I'd rather catch up with you in person.

You know that you're welcome to visit at any time, but it seems you aren't willing to impose on our hospitality uninvited. So consider this a formal invitation. Harry comes for lunch on the weekends, join him this Saturday. It would be lovely to see you.

Yours,

Hermione


After Draco showed him the letter, and asked if he'd mind if he tagged along, Harry didn't know whether to kill Hermione, or kiss her. Though his first instinct was for the former.


Hermione.

What do you think you're playing at?

Harry.


The reply owl was tapping on the window that Evening.


Harry.

If you're talking about Draco coming over this weekend, it's perfectly normal for people to invite their friends over for lunch.

Don't get paranoid.

Hermione.


NINNY

What if I decide not to go?

Harry.


Potty.

Then I'd think you were an idiot, and it would put Draco in an awkward situation. Don't be petty. I didn't think I'd have to ask your permission to invite one of our friends to visit.

Hermione Granger… and don't you forget it.


Hermione Jean Granger.

I'll be there.

Harry James Potter.


Harry.

Good. I'll see you tomorrow. Molly's sent some of her jam tarts for you.

Hermione.
XXX


Hermione.

Do you really think I should tell him?

Harry.


Harry.

Yes I do.

I won't say anything though, that's up to you.

Whatever you're worried about with Draco, you don't need to be worried about us. You know we'll always support you, even if you start dating a Malfoy.

Love,
Hermione.


Harry was woken by Ron's grumpy-looking owl first thing in the morning. He did offer it a ride home, but it just nipped his finger and flew off with a derisive hoot.

He read that letter countless times that morning. Over and over while he lay in bed, then while he was getting into his Quidditch gear. It ran through his mind as he tried not to stare too hard at Malfoy, once again completely trouncing him on the pitch. Should he say something? Should he tell him? Even though he was sure he'd get rejected, maybe it would help with this constant want. Maybe he could actually get over the guy if he just put everything out on the table, so to speak.

He read it again before he had a shower, and after. He read it while he decided what to wear, after he tried to tame his unruly hair into something less scruffy than normal.

Maybe he should. Just tell him. Just get it over with… it would be better, surely, than doing something really stupid in the heat of the moment sometime.

He still wasn't sure though, when he wandered down the hall to collect Malfoy from his rooms. Butterflies were squirming in his stomach. It felt like a date… it was definitely not a date, but it felt like one.

"Potter. You're on time." Draco was just shrugging on his jacket as he opened the door, smiling his lop-sided smirk.

Nope. Harry couldn't do it. Just looking at the guy, he knew it was impossible. Draco was immaculate. Harry just couldn't imagine opening his mouth and saying any of the preposterous, clumsy, artless things he'd have to say. It wouldn't be right. Draco didn't deserve to be subjected to Harrys awkward stammering, he deserved… more. He deserved someone his equal, not a stupid kid.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Merely unexpected." There was an odd kind of sparkle in his grey eyes, almost like he was excited. "Shall we?"

The walk to Hogsmeade was… nice. If Harry ignored his sweating palms and inexplicably violent nerves. They bumped in to Rose, who made Harry promise to bring her back some jam tarts, and picked up a parcel from Hagrid to drop off at the Three Broomsticks. They chatted about nothing as they wandered to the village, talked a little bit about work, but not too much… it was normal.

"Ohhh, don't you look good all dressed up?" Shirley – Madam Rosmerta's successor – craned over the bar, beaming.

"I, uh…" Harry pushed a hand through his hair, embarrassed. He hadn't really dressed up, just put on nicer jeans and jumper than usual.

"He does, doesn't he? You look lovely today too, Shirley." Draco leaned an elbow on the bar, Hagrid's parcel flat on his palm. "Is that a new dress?"

She blushed, grinned, took the package from him. "Charmer. You look amazing, but then, you always do."

He grinned back. "I know. But it's always nice to hear." Straightening up he turned to Harry, nodded towards the huge fireplace. "We'll be late."

They weren't late.

Harry went through first, greeted immediately by Hugo, who grabbed him in a quick hug and asked if it was true that each first year had been given their own hippogriff.

"They have, but it's only for this year, because of an overstock. You won't be getting one."

"But that's not faaaaaaa-"

"Harry!" Hermione barked. "Don't tease Hu-"

The fire roared, and Draco stepped into the room. His grey eyes cast around, and as soon as they settled on Hermione, he smiled.

He smiled. A real, warm smile. A smile that lit up his eyes. "Hermione."

"Draco!" She was in front of him in a second, wrapping him into a hug. It was amazing. Harry had never seen Draco give a hug, never seen him look genuinely affectionate.

His heart did something strange in his chest, like a stutter, a missed beat.

"Is that Malfoy?" Hugo piped up, staring.

Hermione introduced them, fielded some of Hugo's more embarrassing questions, then shooed him through the fireplace. "You'll be late if you don't go right now." She shoved the vase of floo powder at him. "And if I hear you've given away a single wheeze…"

Hugo flinched at that, guilty. But before Hermione could get him to turn out his pockets, he'd flung down his powder and escaped into the hearth.

"Cheeky sod." She glared. "Jennifer's mother was around here last week, furious about one of those damned expired nosebleed nougats. Bloody George!" She wailed, then smiled. "Come in! Sit down! Ron's just had to run to The Burrow, a problem with one of Arthur's experiments."

So they sat down, and had tea, and jam tarts, and like the walk, it was nice. It was normal. Even when Ron came blasting through the fireplace, grumbling about his fathers 'mad' collection of muggle 'crap', it was fine. There was a bit of a blip, an awkward handshake, some stilted questions, but Draco was polite, and charming, and Ron loosened up quick enough.

"They're getting along OK." Hermione assured in a whisper as she and Harry cleared up the dishes.

"Better than I thought they would." Harry agreed, ducking as a platter whizzed over his head to plonk itself in the sink. "Oi, careful!"

"Sorry." She didn't sound sorry at all, but dropped her voice back to her conspiring whisper. "You get along too… do you think-"

"I can't." He cut her off. "He's just… there's no way." He shook his head, terrified Draco would walk in and overhear them. "Can you ever see him going for someone like me?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with you?"

He shrugged. "Nothing really, I suppose. But I'm not in his league."

She opened her mouth, closed it again, then shook her head. "He's just a person, Harry. Like everybody else."

"No he's not like anyone else." Harry was almost pleading, trying to get her to see. "He's not." He growled when Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "He's…" he flicked his eyes to the door, terrified he'd be overheard. "He's just better than me… I look like a five year old next to him."

"Oh Harry." She sighed. "You just look like two people who get along very well and enjoy each other's company. Neither of you is better than the other. Look…" She frowned. "Draco's not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. You know that. You're over thinking it. You're just nervous."

Harry hung his head, knowing logically that she was right, but it didn't change how he felt. He didn't feel good enough. "I dunno, 'Mione. What would I say? And what if he doesn't…" He swallowed. "It would be so humiliating."

"It probably would be." She agreed. "But if you want him, you're going to have to put yourself on the line at some stage." Sidling up to him, she put an arm over his shoulder. "Even if it doesn't turn out the way you want, he's diplomatic. He's not going to laugh in your face, or tell anyone else." She gave him a little squeeze. "And besides… what if it does turn out the way you want it to?"

He thought about that for a second. What if he got what he wanted? What if he got to press his lips to the inside of Draco's wrists, to feel his white blonde hair between his fingers, to have his skinny frame pinned beneath him, making his eyes close with pleasure, making him blush… oh Merlin.

Was it worth the risk?

"Do come back again, soon, OK?" Hermione was hugging Draco goodbye. Something that Ron was a bit perturbed by, going by the look on his face.

"Of course." Malfoy smiled as he extracted himself from 'Mione's arms. "I'll have to return the favour, once I'm out of Hogwarts."

Harry wondered vaguely if he'd be invited too, or if the friendship they'd struck up would be over as soon as the term was done…

"That was surprisingly pleasant." Draco mused, his boots scuffing through dry leaves on the path from Hogsmeade back to Hogwarts.

"Yeah." Harry agreed. "It was. Even Ron was on form."

Draco smirked. "You were concerned he wouldn't be on his best behaviour?"

"Not too worried. Just, you two weren't exactly friendly, last time you saw each other. Old habits die hard."

"Indeed." He mused, his face raised to catch the autumn afternoon sun. "I never did see what Hermione found so enchanting about him."

Harry bristled at Draco's words, even when they weren't said with any kind of malice, just a gentle, honest musing. "Ron's a really good guy." He managed to mutter without sounding too petulant. "And they went through a lot together."

"Yes, but you're a good guy, and you went through just as much. More, actually." He sniffed. "And there are plenty of people who went through a lot in the war, and are more suited to her, intellectually."

Harry frowned. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were talking about yourself."

"I did consider it." Malfoy's voice was totally nonchalant. "In eighth year."

Instant, illogical jealousy clutched at Harry's ribs. Draco and Hermione? He hated the thought of it, especially because – now that he thought about it – they did kind of suit each other, in a weird, weird way.

"That's… unexpected." Was all he managed to say.

"It made sense. She's beautiful, intelligent, resilient. She's also muggle-born. It would have been a good move for me, politically." He explained.

"It would have been terrible for her." In more ways than one.

"Yes, it would have." Malfoy conceded. "Which was one reason I never pursued the idea."

Was another reason because you're gay? Harry couldn't imagine what it would be like to live in the closet forever, not if you were properly gay, not if you had to pretend to be attracted to your partner for the rest of your life. Sure, Harry hadn't come out, but then, Harry was perfectly happy with the women he'd had in his life.

Morbid curiosity drove Harry to ask: "Do you think 'Mione would've gone for it?" How different would life be now if she had? She and Ron had been separated for the whole school year, anything could have happened, really.

"I doubt it." Draco's voice still belied no emotion. He could have been talking about the weather, for all he seemed to care. "Though I always thought you would be the one to end up with her. The Chosen One and the brightest witch of the age…" He left the rest unsaid, but it wasn't like Harry hadn't been asked this kind of thing before.

"Yeah, we get that a lot." He sighed. "We were never like that."

"You were very close." Draco urged.

"We still are. I love her. But I've never wanted to shag her." He let an irritated breath out through his nose. "I'm close to Ron, too… but no one seems to think we have some kind of secret affair going on."

Draco laughed at that, laughed, and Harry's stomach flipped. That was only the second laugh he'd gotten out of the man, and it did something dangerous to his insides. Something that made him want to push him up against the nearest tree…

He clenched his jaw, angry at himself, angry at Draco. He felt powerless like this, hiding how he felt, feeling those things in the first place… it just made him feel so small.

"I just assumed you had better taste than that." Draco chuckled, the slightest blush reddening his pale cheeks. Shit.

"Should I consider that a compliment?" How did Draco make him feel so inadequate?

"Only if you care what I think about your… partners." Malfoy hesitated at the end of his sentence, a little glitch that made Harry think that maybe he wasn't as comfortable in this line of conversation as he seemed.

"What do you think of them?"

"I don't know enough about any of them to form an opinion. Though Ginny wasn't awful." Huh, that was almost generous, for Draco.

"Hell of a lot better than that Pansy you used to go around with."

Draco's face stiffened, smoothing into the calm mask he affected most of the time. Harry cringed. He'd obviously said the wrong thing.

"I did not go around with Pansy." He said quietly, his voice inviting no more questions.

But Harry didn't need an invitation. He was already being reckless. "Was there anyone, then? Is there anyone?"

The grey of Draco's eyes had turned to steel. "No one of consequence."

Harry was torn. He didn't want to make Draco angry, didn't want to pressure him… but he felt like this topic might never come up again, and he wanted to know. Wanted to know about the men in Draco's file, the men with names.

"Sore subject, huh?" He tried, his voice low.

"Quite."

Harry didn't say anything, just waited. Just like how he did in class, when he wanted students to gather their courage. Long seconds ticked by, their feet rustling the leaves, birds singing in the trees…

"Dating is difficult when you're one of the most hated figures in the wizarding world." Draco said, eventually.

Oh.

That made sense.

"There's a very specific type of person who's attracted to a death eater." He continued, his voice level, but a sneer pulling at his top lip. "A type of person I'm not interested in. So I date muggles, which never lasts."

Harry nodded, slowly, wary of saying the wrong thing. "Yeah. Muggles are hard." He agreed. Difficult to take a muggle back to a house that had an aged house elf pottering around dusting the furniture.

"The howlers are a problem…"

Despite himself, Harry smiled. "I can imagine." He tried to hold back a chuckle. "How'd you manage them?"

Draco grimaced. "Lock myself in the bathroom."

"With your silencing charm?"

"Hmmm." His mouth pulled up in a rueful smile. "What about the illustrious Harry Potter? Has he deemed any of his many admirers' worthy of his affection?"

Harry chuckled, despite the nerves that were once again churning in his stomach. "Nah. Dating's not that easy when you're one of the most loved figures in the wizarding world, either."

Draco snorted. "Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"No, really." Harry frowned. "I mean, just shagging would be easy." He grimaced, that sounded awful. "But I don't see the appeal in that, and dating is impossible. Most people just want to date the figure, the Chosen One from the papers." He shrugged "The people I've met who are genuinely interested in me, are chased off pretty quickly… fame is not fun."

"I didn't realise." Draco said softly. "Seems our situations aren't entirely different."

"No." Harry agreed. "Though I'm sure yours is harder." He bit the inside of his lip. This conversation hurt. It hurt to know that Draco was lonely, it hurt to want him so badly, but be too scared to say anything.

"Undoubtedly."

They were getting near to the school grounds now, the path growing wider, the gates looming beyond the trees.

"I used to think that, eventually, my reputation would fade, and I'd meet someone who could look past the mistakes I've made." Draco's sudden, soft confession made Harry's heart ache. "Though I now hold no hope of that. Who's going to be able to put aside the fact that I aligned myself with Voldemort? That I got people killed?"

As always, his voice was even, calm, and it was almost worse than if he'd burst into tears. How long had he been schooling himself against emotion? What other kind of awful, heart-breaking things had he said in that polite, conversational voice? Sympathy curdled with the butterflies in his stomach, and before he could stop himself, Harry answered Draco's rhetorical question.

"Me."