Harry stepped out into the Ministry atrium and checked around for familiar faces. No one yet. He straightened his suit coat, smoothed back his blond hair, and headed off down the corridor towards the lifts. He knew Draco would step through exactly two minutes later, dressed in precisely the same outfit. He would take a right and head up the corridor towards the visitor entrance.

He waited patiently by the planter with his wand resting comfortably in his hand. A few moments later a lift arrived and Hermione stepped out. She did not look directly at him or pause, but she passed close enough to whisper.

"Floors one through three are clear," she hissed and continued on her way.

Harry swished and captured her words in a bubble, then sent it whizzing down the corridor. And then he waited some more. The lift doors open and Ron stepped out. He passed by without looking at Harry and whispered, too.

"Floors four through seven are clear." Another bubble whizzed away.

Harry called a lift and descended to the first floor, where administrative offices dominated the floor plan. He turned left as he stepped out and and strode down a side hallway towards the private solicitor offices, leased to those who worked frequently enough with the Ministry to warrant working onsite. If everything was on schedule Draco would be closing in from his position to wait near the lifts on the Atrium level.

He found Lucius' solicitor's office with its door closed but the light on inside. The lettering on the glass read, "Eugene T. Peabody, Esq."

Harry muttered a wandless spell and touched the wood panel of the door and listened. He could just make out the shuffle and scratch of an occupied office. So he waited.

The clock ticked over to six o'clock and a silhouette beyond the glass stood and approached. Harry took his position in the middle of the corridor with his hands clasped behind his back. He settled his expression into an emotionless mask and waited.

"Oh!" Mr. Peabody jumped as he opened his office door. "Mr. Malfoy, I didn't know you were there."

He waved his hand and warded his office door, then tried to step past Harry. Harry didn't budge, but he did notice that the solicitor clutched his ledger close to his chest. He wouldn't be so daft as to carry such a valuable artifact with him, would he?

"Mr. Malfoy," he cleared his throat. "If I may pass..."

"You know why I'm here," Harry said, affecting Draco's posh, bored tone.

"My office hours end at precisely six o'clock, I'm afraid," the small man lifted his chin. "Please return tomorrow at nine if you wish to discuss it further."

"We will discuss it now," Harry said. He wasn't imagining it, the man was squeezing his ledger as though it might escape on its own.

"If you are restraining me against my will—"

"Not at all," Harry stepped aside and let him pass. The man hustled along with a furtive glance over his shoulder. As soon as he was around the corner he sent a whisper in a bubble speeding along to Draco's ear.

Then he waited. With luck Mr Peabody would be encountering the real Draco Malfoy at the lifts momentarily. He fiddled with his wand and tried to break the ward on the office door but it was too strong. A bubble appeared and popped by his ear.

"Floo. The ledger is suspicious."

Harry Disapparated and landed before the long bank of emerald flamed fireplaces. A pair of Ministry administrators huffed at him for the impolite sudden appearance, but he ignored them and waited. Sure enough Mr. Peabody came hustling up the hall.

He skidded to a halt and whipped around, then back to stare at Harry. He regathered his composure and seized a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into a fireplace. He muttered his destination and with one last glare over his shoulder, he stepped through, revealing Ron, who had crept up behind him. He waved Harry forward and crammed a handful of powder at him.

"Public Floo, East Dulwich. Wait," he grabbed Harry's arm. "Which one are you?"

"I'm Harry," he grinned, then shoved the powder back into Ron's hand. "I know where that is. I'll go directly."

He Apparated in an alleyway next door to the abandoned shopfront that concealed the East Dulwich public Floo from muggle discovery. He stepped out calmly onto the sidewalk and waited. What if he'd hesitated too long, what if Mr. Peabody had arrived and then changed his mind and went elsewhere? Behind him he heard the distinct pop of an Apparation and waved for Draco to hide himself.

Just then Mr. Peabody emerged from the abandoned shopfront and startled again.

"Mister Malfoy, I will not be intimidated!" he yelped. He turned and marched away down the road as quickly as he could. Harry glanced back down the alley and gestured in the direction he went. Draco nodded and Disapparated.

Mr. Peabody turned the corner at the end of the block and a yelp echoed down the road. Harry tucked himself back into the alley and waited. A moment later another bubble showed up.

Pop. "Dark mark time, Flying Pig pub."

Harry knew exactly where that was. The sun was below the rooftops now, and the January air was cold enough to fog his breath. This would be advantageous. He Apparated behind the Flying Pig and listened for approaching footsteps. Mr. Peabody was running now, and when Harry stepped out of the shadows he shouted and nearly dropped his ledger.

Harry raised his right arm but did not fold back his sleeve. Emulating the Death Eaters he had seen during the war he hovered his left hand over his arm and scowled. "Do you know whose work you carry, Mr. Peabody?"

"What are you doing? You can't do that!" The solicitor whirled around and checked behind him for help but the road was deserted.

"But I can," Harry said, his voice low and dangerous. "Would you like me to show you?"

"The Dark Lord is dead!" The man backed away, his voice trembling with fear.

"Would you like to meet him?" Harry's left hand trembled now, as though summoning demanded great effort. "Would you like to explain how you came into possession of his life's work?"

"This isn't his work," the solicitor backed away another step. He looked down at the ledger, confirming that it was what they were looking for. "This is Lucius Malfoy's work."

"You are a fool," Harry said. He took a deep breath and furrowed his brow, a hum resonating in his throat.

"No! Get away!" Mr. Peabody screeched and ran across the street towards a pedestrian tunnel that ran beneath a raised roadway.

Harry sent off a bubble and heard the distant sound of an Apparation echo from the other end of the tunnel. Mr. Peabody screamed.

"Would you like to meet him, Mr. Peabody?" Draco's voice resonated off of the arched passage walls. Harry crept up to the opening and peered in. He took his position as Draco raised his left hand over his right forearm.

"Get away from me!" Mr. Peabody whirled around to run and spotted Harry behind him. "No!" he shrieked.

"The Dark Lord wants his possessions back," Harry said, he crept forward to close the distance between them. The solicitor whirled around and was faced with Draco.

"The Dark Lord does not look lightly upon theft of his work," Draco said. His silver eyes flashed in the darkness of the underpass and Harry had to admire his acting.

"Please, I'll do anything," Mr. Peabody begged. "Just let me go." He turned back to Harry. "Please!"

Harry extended his right arm and tipped his head back. "He is coming," he intoned, then reeled off a string of phrases in Parseltongue. It was mostly formal greetings and observations about the weather, but he knew how it would sound.

Mr. Peabody scrambled back and ran smack into Draco's chest. He shoved the ledger into Draco's hands and wept openly for mercy.

"They're yours, take them. Please, make it stop!" he cried.

Harry paused in the middle of reciting a recipe for rat stew and waited. Draco grasped the ledger and tugged, then settled it in his arms with a glower.

"Leave now before I am Imperiused to show you no mercy," he said darkly.

Mr. Peabody ran, whimpering and clumsy in his effort to escape. Draco and Harry waited until his footsteps receded and then dropped the act. They hugged and slapped each other on the back and tried not to cheer loudly enough for the retreating solicitor to hear and come to his senses.

"Please tell me that's what we're looking for," Harry clasped his fingers together in supplication. "I thought it was multiple ledgers."

Draco flipped it open. "It is," he said. "There's a contraction charm on it. Looks like it becomes several volumes when it's released."

"'Romeo and Juliet?'" Harry was almost afraid to ask.

Draco flipped through and nodded. "It's here."

"Merlin," Harry gasped. "It's almost over."

"It's not over yet," Draco snapped the ledger closed. "Let's get this to Old Paul so he can start using these ciphers to decode the play and figure out a counter-curse."

Harry grasped his elbow and nodded for him to Apparate back to the Ministry. Draco eyed him thoughtfully.

"What was that you were saying over there? Was that snake language?"

"Nothing much, just improvised," Harry shrugged. He wished he could celebrate the success of their plan by kissing Draco.

"Impressive, Potter," Draco closed his eyes tightly and nodded. "Come on, just one,"

Harry slipped his arms around Draco's waist and kissed him gently. He didn't push or insist. But to his surprise Draco kissed him back, a real, unconfused kiss. He hoped there were more in their future.

"Ready?" Draco stepped back and straightened his jacket. "Take my arm."

oOo

Harry and Draco stepped out of the Floo and into the parlor of Malfoy Manor. The archivists had lauded them as heroes, and the Aurors had promised to publicly credit them with the recovery of the ledgers. Draco had barely known what to do with all of the praise. Even now as he flopped down in a chair, he seemed dazed and somewhat bemused.

Harry sat across from him and watched his face. "So now what?" he asked.

"I don't know," Draco glanced up. "They promised they would start on 'Romeo and Juliet.' I suppose that means they ought to have a counter-curse for you pretty soon."

"Right," Harry nodded. "That's a relief."

"Right," Draco nodded, too. "Especially since we're getting nowhere doing it this way."

"Right," Harry echoed weakly.

"I suppose you'll want to be getting back to your life," Draco glanced away.

"I suppose."

"I mean, since there's no practical reason for you to stay here," his eyes flicked up and away again.

"No practical reason," Harry nodded.

But what about the impractical ones?

"It was good to work through everything," Draco said. "When you get changed back maybe we'll have the chance to talk more."

"Right," Harry could feel what was happening. Draco was contracting into himself and pushing Harry away. He didn't know what to do.

"You'll let me know when they break the curse, right?"

"Of course," Harry nodded. "Maybe we can go out then. Like an actual date or something."

"That would be nice," Draco nodded back.

They were silent for a few minutes. Finally Harry stood. "Well I guess I'll get going," he said. "Thanks for your help."

"Thank you, too," Draco stood and walked him to the Floo.

"For what?"

Draco's eyes roved the room, looking anywhere but Harry. "For wanting to talk." He shrugged. "Even if it was only to break the curse."

"Right."

Harry wished Draco would look at him. He knew nothing had changed, he still looked like his former rival, and that was still hard for Draco to stomach. But if he would just set that aside for a moment...

"Talk to you later, then," Draco held out his hand.

"Right," Harry couldn't stop repeating himself. He shook Draco's hand, tossed a pinch of powder into the Floo, and then in a whirl he was back home in Hogsmeade.

His flat smelled stale. It smelled like another person. Harry realized with a start that it smelled like himself, his real self, but he had been a Malfoy and with a Malfoy for long enough that his nose had reset the definition of neutral.

He thought about lying in bed with Draco, sniffing his head and his own arm and detecting no difference. Then he thought about holding Draco in his arms. Then he thought about kissing him. And then he thought about being sent home.

"Fucking arsehole," he cursed as he threw himself down onto the sofa.

That wasn't fair. It wasn't that he was an arsehole, it was that anyone would have a hard time getting turned on by themselves. Still, why had he just sent Harry away? Didn't he feel anything?

"What about all of that,'it's possible to love you' rubbish?" he demanded of his empty flat. "If it's possible, then why send me away?"

He went to his bedroom and tossed himself onto the bed. He caught sight of the candleholder and thought about wanking to his reflection again.

"No," he sat up and spoke angrily. "Not when I've had the real thing and it was good." He scrambled out of bed and leaned on his vanity so he could glare at his reflection. Pale, blond, and the object of his desire. It was beyond unfair. "Who knows how long it will take to figure out a counter-curse? It could be years! We could make it work, you prat. Why isn't it worth trying?" It was no use. The man in the mirror wasn't the one who had sent him away. They just looked remarkably similar.

He stalked back to the living room and sat down. He wished he had someone to talk to about it. Hermione was good to talk to, but he didn't want to talk to her about this. And Ron, Ron was good to talk to, but he would never understand how Harry could fall for Draco Malfoy. He would never get it.

You know who would get it? Malfoy.

He smiled to himself. Imagining how Draco would call him daft or Juliet, when they both knew they weren't like that play. Not that one. 'Much Ado,' maybe.

He wondered how long it would take the archivists to decode his curse and develop a counter-spell. He tried to believe in the most optimistic possibility, that it could happen at any time. In fact, he should be prepared for a moment's notice. He slipped his hand into his pocket to confirm his glasses were there but found only empty space. Bollocks.

His glasses were at Malfoy Manor, on the bedside table right next to Draco's bed. Harry stood and paced. He couldn't leave his glasses there. He needed them. If he was changed back suddenly he would be blind without them. It was absurd, how could he forget them after needing them for so many years?

He had to go get them.

Any excuse.

And just like that he was standing outside of the gates of Malfoy Manor. He strode up the drive with grim determination and alighted the front steps. And then he knocked.

A house elf answered and blinked at him in mild confusion.

"Harry Potter to see Draco Malfoy," Harry said, even though he doubted it would erase the creature's confusion.

The door closed and Harry wondered if he would come back. But just a moment later the door opened again and Draco was standing there, withdrawn and hesitant.

"I forgot my glasses," Harry said.

"Oh," Draco's voice was soft.

He waved for Harry to enter and led him upstairs to the master suite. Sure enough there they were, folded neatly on the bedside table. Harry pocketed them, thanked Draco, and then had no idea what to do next.

"You could have used the Floo," Draco said, his voice still soft.

"I wasn't sure if I was welcome to," Harry said.

"Of course you are."

"Am I?" Harry stepped towards him. "Because you sent me away."

"I didn't send you away," Draco's brow furrowed. "It just doesn't make sense for you to stay. You got what you came for."

His words cut like a knife. Not as deep as a Sectumsempra, but painful just the same.

"Okay, I'll go," he whispered.

But his feet wouldn't move. His feet told him to stay. And even though they weren't his feet and therefore had no authority over him, he obeyed.

"Listen, Malfoy," he squeezed his eyes shut. "Damn it, why can't I just call you Draco?"

Draco smiled faintly. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose—"

"Don't!" Harry shouted. "Don't you dare quote 'Romeo and Juliet' at me!"

Draco reeled back in surprise. "Potter—"

"No! You don't get to send me away and then quote 'Romeo and Juliet' at me! This is not a tragedy! We are not star crossed lovers! I am not Juliet!" he seethed, the sudden anger as surprising to him as it was to Draco.

Draco tried again. "Potter, I just—"

"We are not Romeo and Juliet," Harry shouted. "We're Benedick and Beatrice! You're Beatrice!" An epiphany struck him at that. "Malfoy," he said breathlessly, "You really are Beatrice. If I were to tell you I love you, you would probably say something snide like, I would rather hear a dog bark at a crow than hear a man say he loves me."

"No I wouldn't!" Draco looked insulted.

"I love you, Malfoy," the words escaped Harry's lips before he knew they were coming. But there they were. And they needed to be said again. "I love you. I know it seems fast, and I know you don't think we know each other well enough yet, and maybe we don't, but I love you. And it's not because of the curse or because I'm afraid, I really am in love with you. We've known each other for eight years, for Merlin's sake. I know enough of you by now, and we've put so much of it to rights, and I just," he ran out of breath and tossed his arms up in defeat. "I just love you."

Draco stared at him silently, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"See?" Harry gestured to himself. "It didn't break the curse but I still love you." He stepped closer. "I love you, Malfoy,"

Draco snapped out of it with a sharp shake of his head. He backed up until he was pressed against the wall and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. His chest rose and fell rapidly. and he looked as though he might pass out.

"Potter," he croaked, his hands still blocking his vision.

"What?" Harry was worried he would hyperventilate.

"Potter," he said again

"What, Malfoy? What?"

Draco's chest heaved. When he spoke his words were barely audible.

"I love you, too,"

A bright flash went off and the sound of shattered glass filled Harry's ears. He dropped to a crouch in fright and looked around for the source of the strike but nothing was there. Draco was still pressed against the wall with his eyes covered like he hadn't heard a thing.

But something had changed. Harry's clothes were too tight, he realized. And his trousers were a bit too long. And everything was blurry.

Sweet Merlin, everything was blurry.

Harry scrambled for his glasses and slipped them onto his face before whirling around and staring at his reflection in the vanity mirror. Green eyes stared back beneath a messy thicket of black hair. He was disoriented for a terrifying moment until it finally clicked.

"I'm me."

He whirled around and stared at Draco, who still had his eyes covered.

"Malfoy," he gasped. "I'm me."

"What?"

"The curse broke!"

"What?" Draco dropped his hands and opened his eyes. Then he froze, his expression completely dumbfounded.

"I'm me!" Harry shouted.

Draco launched himself off of the wall and hurtled across the room. He drove Harry back onto the bed and collided their mouths together in desperation, his hands clinging furiously to Harry's clothes as though to prevent a retreat.

Harry pushed back with equal fury, the familiar sensations of his natural body returning with reassuring swiftness. He clutched at Draco's arms as he carded his fingers through Harry's hair. His tongue, his amazing, flexible, sensual tongue wrapped around Harry's like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground.

Harry pushed his hands up underneath Draco's shirt and stroked his fingers across his back, scars and all, and when Draco released him so they could look at each other he couldn't resist reaching down for a little arse squeeze.

"It's really you," Draco murmured, his eyes raking over every detail of Harry's face.

Harry ran a finger down the line of Draco's jaw and noticed that his fingernails could use some work. There was nothing graceful about his hands, they were hard-working and unkempt. He had calluses from his wand on his index and middle fingers, and he had a hangnail on his little finger. But they were his hands through and through.

"What are you grinning at, you nutter?" Draco asked, although his gentle touch belied the sharp edge to his words.

"I'm me," Harry said simply.

"You're you," Draco smiled. He looked Harry up and down and then abruptly started unbuttoning his shirt. "Well let's get a look at you, then."

Harry seized Draco's buttons, too. "We'll need to compare," he said.

They both laughed at the absurd act, as though it were purely academic. In no time they were both stripped down, lying diagonally across Draco's mattress and exploring each other's differences with fingertips and mouths.

Draco buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck and sucked sensuously at the soft curve of skin there. He paused and inhaled deeply, then released it with a delirious groan.

"You smell amazing," he said before diving in for more exploration.

Harry arched into his touch and then brought his nose down into Draco's hair. Oh Merlin yes.

Draco propped himself up on his elbow and ran a hand down Harry's chest, trailing his fingernails through the dark chest hair. A delighted grin spread across his face.

"You're so different from me," he toyed with the line of hair that led from Harry's navel to his groin.

"Is that why you love me?" Harry asked. He pulled Draco down to kiss him again and for a moment they were lost in it.

"No," Draco said as they parted. "But it helps."

Harry traced the smooth line of his arm to his hand. "For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?"

"Look at your face," Draco snorted. "So pleased with yourself every time you recall a quote."

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed and threw his arms around Draco so he could roll them over until he was on top. "Look at my face! My face!"

Draco laughed and let Harry paw at him until he couldn't take it anymore and rolled them over so that he was on top again.

"I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?"

Harry rolled his eyes—his eyes!—and chuckled. "You're pleased with yourself, too."

They kissed in earnest then, their hands exploring and far more synchronized than last time. Harry ran a finger down Draco's Sectumsempra scar, and Draco ran his hand across Harry's scar-free chest. Then he continued the journey down to Harry's groin, where he teased around the base of his cock with small, glancing touches. Harry thought his head would explode. Draco fluttered a loose grip up and down his shaft, over and over, raising a desperate heat in Harry's core.

Just when he thought he couldn't take another moment of teasing, Draco grasped him firmly and began to stroke with confidence. A long, feverish groan escaped from Harry's throat, which elicited a chuckle from his benefactor. He slid down Harry's body and took Harry's cock into his mouth, as deep as it would go. He pushed Harry's leg to the side and teased his finger around his entrance, then slipped inside as he went in for another swallow.

Harry's body reverberated with a chorus of approval from every nerve ending from his head to his toes. He would have cheered if he could have formed coherent sounds. Instead he shivered and quaked and groaned as Draco swallowed again and again, his finger glancing across Harry's prostate.

By the time Draco crawled back up his body, Harry was a quivering, helpless mess. And when Draco whispered his protection charm and entered Harry nearly sobbed with gratitude. He curled his legs around Draco's back and flexed his hips, driving a shuddering gasp from his partner's throat.

"Potter," Draco gasped again as Harry flexed over and over. "Slow down. I'm going to—"

Harry grasped his cock and pulled quickly, rapidly catching up to Draco's impending climax. They thrust in rhythm as the pressure built, and suddenly Draco's face flushed and his thighs convulsed as he emptied his load in one tremendous orgasm. Harry stroked his cock just once more and he came like an explosion, too, marking his chest and the sheets with his sticky wetness.

Draco heaved for breath as a second wave rolled through him, and then finally he unclenched and sagged on top of Harry, spreading the mess as he slid to the side and laid in an exhausted heap. He hefted one lazy hand, waved it in a perfunctory cleansing charm, and let it flop across Harry's stomach.

"That's better," Harry sighed.

"It wasn't good before?"

"It was good. This was better."

"It was better,"

Draco propped his head on his folded arm and stared at Harry with his wide, silver eyes, the colour of which Harry now knew was a trick of the light. It didn't matter, as far as he was concerned they were as silver as the moon.

"Thank you," Harry said.

"For what?"

"For helping me."

"Of course I helped you," Draco frowned. "What else was I to do?"

"You could have denied me."

Draco shook his head. "No I couldn't."

Harry thought about it and decided he was right. This went way back before the curse, they would have never denied each other. It wasn't even an option.