A/N: Again, I'm sorry for the delay in posting. I was working on this story as part of National Novel Writing Month and had to get some things accomplished by the end of November. And as an aside, Chapter 11 will include a section from Draco's POV. Of course, thanks for reading and reviewing!

"I hate to say this mate, but you look bloody awful."

Ron was peering at Harry from behind a mountain of paperwork on his desk in the Department of Magical Transportation, looking as though he might determine the cause of his troubled demeanor on sight alone.

"I just had an appointment with Portif and you know what she's like." Harry bit the inside of his cheek so that he wouldn't mention the reason behind the meeting.

Not quite ready to share that yet…

Ron shuddered theatrically. "I understand. She can be right scary sometimes, can't she?"

"Absolutely. So how's your day going so far?" Harry plopped down into one of the chairs scattered around Ron's office, which to be frank was the complete opposite of Emmanuelle's. Scraps of parchment and file folders covered every surface imaginable while brooms, polish, and some sort of metallic scale were shoved up against a closet door towards the back of the room.

"Not too bad. Oh! I almost forgot!" Ron jumped up out of his seat and rushed over to a file cabinet to the right of his desk. From the middle drawer, he pulled out an envelope and tossed it in Harry's direction. Harry caught it easily and peered at the creamy textured packet carefully. "What's this?" he asked curiously.

Ron grinned and pretended to go back to his work, all the while peeking at Harry's expression from the corner of his eye.

Harry opened the letter cautiously and pulled out a formal-looking piece of parchment.

Dear Mr. Weasley,

You are cordially invited to the Annual Quidditch Convention which will be held in Hertfordshire England this year. Your invitation includes passes for two additional guests, a two-night stay at the Blue Buck Inn and complimentary meals for you and your party for the duration of the convention.

We look forward to seeing you in two weeks time,

Kendra Nikos

International Quidditch Relations

Harry looked up at his friend with wide eyes. "Ron! How did you score these?" His hand fished further into the envelope and pulled out three VIP passes to one of the most sought-after sporting conventions in the world.

The red-head blushed but looked pleased with himself. "Charlie," he replied simply.

Harry nodded his understanding. After encountering one too many close calls with dragon fire and stampeding, Charlie Weasley wanted to test out an occupation a little less worrisome. Subsequently, he decided to throw himself into working for the International Magical Cooperation Department's new gaming committee. He had also been scoring unbelievable perks for the Weasley family over the past year, but these tickets were the best by far.

"This is fantastic Ron! Who are you going to take?"

Ron tilted his head to the side as though Harry were stupid. Harry responded by giving him a sheepish grin.

"Probably Hermione and Bill. He hasn't stopped talking about the convention for the past month."

Harry's jaw dropped. Ron guffawed and slapped his hand on the desk in great amusement.

"I'm just kidding Harry. Of course I'm taking you. Don't be mental. Merlin, the look on your face."

Harry chuckled, a small blush gracing his features. "I had to ask. Wouldn't do to be presumptuous and make an ass out of myself."

"Well, now we just have to figure out who else to take. Hermione obviously has no interest, and the rest of the family is going to be busy that weekend. Although I suppose I could ask Ginny…"

Harry cringed, causing Ron to backpedal quickly. "Or not. Have you got any ideas?"

A crazy thought winged through Harry's brain. No…he couldn't…

Could he?

He sighed. "There's someone I'm thinking about bringing, but I don't know how they would feel about it."

"Who is it? That same girl you're 'lusting' after?" Ron asked, looking far too eager for juicy gossip.

Harry's heart hammered staccato beats against his ribcage. "Er, I'm still not ready to talk about it. I'll ask and see what happens," he said evasively.

Ron's face fell a bit, but he nodded. "Alright. But you know you can talk to me about anything mate."

For a brief moment, Harry was on the verge of setting up a silencing spell around Ron's desk and spilling everything that had happened between him and Tim, and now the burgeoning situation with Malfoy. But in the next moment, he lost his nerve and just nodded back.

Some Gryffindor I am.

"I know. I'll come to you soon. I promise. Tell Hermione I said hello, yeah?" He stood up hastily and walked to the door.

"Course, I'll see you soon. We can work out the details for the convention."

"Sounds good." Harry threw a smile in Ron's direction and made his way back to the lifts, thoughts of Malfoy and Ron squaring off, wands drawn, filling his mind.

When Harry arrived back at camp that morning, it was closer to lunchtime than he'd anticipated. Each group of students was circling the ground, ready to land on the pitch and dig into their meals. Harry skirted the edge of the field and dipped into the office to eat his own sandwich. Three steps into the room and he was ambushed by Allie. Her eyes were wide as she came up close to him and placed a hand on his forearm.

"What happened?" she asked, voice an absolute whisper. Harry wasn't sure what she was whispering for, since everyone else was still outside. But better safe than sorry he guessed.

"I assume you mean with Tim," Harry stated blandly.

She placed a hand on her hip, making it evident that she found his question to be impertinent. "Yes, with Tim."

Harry sighed. He'd spent the majority of his trip back from the Ministry trying to determine what he was going to say. In the end he decided to follow the version he shared with Emmanuelle.

"He tried to attack a parent," Harry said quietly.

Her ensuing gasp would have been funny had the situation not been so depressing. Allie's eyes grew impossibly larger as she breathed, "He didn't."

Harry gave a grim smile. "He did."

She ran a hand through her dark brown hair, shock paralyzing her features. "This is mad. Why? What set him off?"

Harry swallowed. "Malfoy."

She let out a low whistle. "What did Malfoy do?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why do you automatically assume that Malfoy was the one that did something? He was just coming to -" he hesitated, "pick up something Scorpius had left here. He went mad, calling him names and saying he had no right being here."

Allie huffed. "I meant, what did Malfoy do after Tim threatened him?"

Oh.

Harry refused to acknowledge the burning in his cheeks. "Nothing. Not a hex or anything. I was the one that had to kick Tim out. It was rather surprising actually."

She cocked her head to the side in thought. "It's just so strange. He's seen Malfoy before, hasn't he? Why did he find it so hard to control himself this time in particular?"

"I – I don't know. I think he was angry about something else and took it out on Malfoy." That was as close to the truth as he could get right now.

Allie nodded. "Well you know what's best, of course. Who are we going to get to replace him?"

Harry almost blew out a breath of relief that the difficult part of the conversation was over. "Dunno. But I did tell Portif that I'd be the one in charge of the background checks this time." He threw her a rueful grin that she returned. "Would you mind telling the others what happened? I don't want to go through it again."

"Alright. But let me know if there's anything you need me to do. And please don't stay cooped up in the office today. It's beautiful out." Allie swept up her lunch bag from her desk and walked back outside.

Harry made his way to his desk, sat on the edge, and dragged a hand along his face. One crisis down, another to go.

Malfoy,

Harry stared at his parchment. He'd been sitting with his quill poised over the letter for twenty minutes and that was all he had come up with. He wasn't sure why it was so hard to ask the git to come over for a drink. Malfoy had made it clear that he was willing to just spend some time together – no pressure. Probably best to just say what he was thinking then.

Malfoy,

I'm rubbish at these types of things, but do you want to come over for that drink this week? Wednesday would be good, but I understand if you have plans. There's also something that I want to ask you about.

- Harry

He cringed, but folded the letter nonetheless and prepared it for mailing. He would go to Hogsmeade and mail it from the Owl Post after work.

Wednesday night came and Harry was sitting in his armchair battling a bad case of nerves. He'd received Malfoy's response on Tuesday morning and had been a jittery mess ever since. While waiting for any noise to come from the front door, he pulled the letter from his pocket and read it again.

Potter,

Yes, you are rubbish at such social niceties, but I have so graciously forgiven you. I'll be at Grimmauld Place at 7pm on Wednesday. I'm wondering what you couldn't ask me in a letter, but will have to wait until tomorrow to have my curiosity satisfied.

- DM

For some strange reason, the word "satisfied" was doing odd things to Harry's stomach. He tried once more to focus on settling his nerves, but still jumped a mile when a knock sounded on the front door. Fuck. He hadn't even felt the wards shift.

Taming the tremor that had developed in his hands, Harry crossed the foyer and opened the door for Malfoy. The blond was standing on his front step looking as though he'd been delivered by the gods. He tried not to stare but didn't think he was doing a very good job of it. Malfoy was dressed in a dove gray polo shirt and black tailored slacks. The shirt was similar to a Muggle design, though Harry was fairly certain the non-wizard kind didn't have a serpent on the breast pocket.

And yet, it wasn't even the clothing that left Harry close to drooling. It was Malfoy's posture. He was radiating confidence. Not in that completely arrogant way that he had in school, but with a quiet self-assuredness that made him seem almost luminescent in the waning evening light.

"Hi," Harry choked out after he'd finished gawking.

"Hello Potter. I see you took my wardrobe advice." Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at him and gestured toward his ensemble.

Harry had indeed remembered Malfoy's parting words from Saturday and had carefully chosen a pair of dark jeans and a snug t-shirt bearing a manticore graphic on the front. He smirked at the blond and then paused. What was he supposed to do now? Did he give him a hug to say hello? A kiss on the cheek? A handshake? None of those options seemed right, so in the end he decided to just motion to the sitting room and allow Malfoy to pass him.

As Malfoy walked by, Harry caught a whiff of honeysuckle that was absolutely intoxicating. "What are you -" he started and then stopped himself.

Malfoy whirled around, strands of hair swinging into his eyes. "What am I what?"

Harry chewed his lip. "Nothing. Have a seat."

Malfoy looked at him with intrigue and then a slow grin emerged on his face. "It's called Arcadia. New cologne that Blaise designed. I'll be sure to let him know that you approve."

Harry's face flamed, but he just nodded in lieu of a response that would undoubtedly be awkward. Merlin, why was Malfoy making him so edgy?

"So are you ever going to let me Floo over?" Malfoy asked as he made his way to the sitting room.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Oh. You know, I didn't even think of that." He truly hadn't. Oddly enough, it seemed perfectly natural to have Malfoy show up at his front door rather than come stumbling through the fireplace.

The blond clucked his tongue and shook his head simultaneously. "It's alright Potter, you spend the majority of your days up in the air. It's no surprise that you've left your brain there as well."

Harry dropped his head and his shoulders shook with laughter. He could get used to this gentle teasing version of Malfoy.

They spent the next several minutes at Harry's small liquor cabinet deciding on what to drink. Malfoy surprised him by requesting Scotch, while Harry settled for rum and coke.

After sitting down he fiddled with his glass nervously and looked at Malfoy's feet across from his. He was wearing what looked like basilisk-skin loafers. Harry smirked. Who wears something like that in the middle of the summer?

"What did you want to ask me?" Malfoy asked, breaking the silence.

Harry's head jerked up. He should have known that the blond would cut right to the chase.

"Actually, there are two things I need to talk to you about," Harry said, chewing apprehensively on his lip.

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow. "Go on."

Harry sighed. "When I was at the Ministry today, I spoke with Emmanuelle Portif about how I fired Tim." He tried to gauge Malfoy's reaction, but the gray eyes were guarded.

"What did she say?" he asked nonchalantly.

"She said that there was a formal complaint about him a while back, but the charges were dropped because the person was drunk. I think it was something sexual, but she never said for sure." Harry fiddled with his hands.

Malfoy was silent for long moments. "Why did they let him coach at a camp?"

Harry's stomach roiled with unwarranted guilt. "They knew that I thought he was a good prospect and didn't want to go against my word. You know, Chosen One and all," he said bitterly.

A small smile lit Malfoy's face. He didn't respond, just nodded in agreement.

"So Portif asked me if I wanted to press charges and I told her that I would have to check with you." Harry looked up from his hands to Malfoy's face.

The blonds' expression was difficult to translate. Tense moments passed and he shook his head resolutely. "No. It's not worth it."

"Really?" Harry asked, completely surprised. He would have thought that given the chance, Malfoy would be all about getting justice.

"Really. He didn't hurt me, he didn't hurt Scorpius, and he didn't hurt you." Malfoy shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, it never happened."

Harry's head tilted to the side in confusion. Things had really changed for Malfoy. Or maybe it was just fatherhood that changed him. It had to be something fairly massive to rid Malfoy of his infamous vindictive streak.

"I remember a time when you broke my nose just because you could," Harry chanced. He hoped Malfoy wouldn't get upset. He wanted to be able to joke about their past.

The corners of the blonds' mouth lifted into a smile. "I'm sure you had it coming prat," he said good-naturedly.

He chuckled and they spent some time reminiscing quietly, the only real sound in the room that of ice clinking in their glasses. Harry mentally prepared himself for the next part of the conversation.

"The other thing was, I um – came across some passes to the Quidditch Convention two weeks from now and wanted to know if you wanted to come along."

He finally dared to look Malfoy in the eye. The gray orbs flashed with several emotions before taking on a blank expression. "How did you come across them?" he asked.

Harry frowned. That was a question he hadn't been anticipating. "Well, they're actually Ron's tickets, but he invited me and said I could bring someone."

Malfoy's face remained impassive. "Weasley."

Harry nodded mutely.

"I would have to spend the whole convention in his company?" Malfoy looked down at his glass.

"I would be there too," Harry reminded, hoping that was a selling point.

Malfoy seemed to give a genuine smile. "Indeed you would be. But even if I'm willing to spend two days with you and Weasley, I don't think he would be too keen on spending that much time with me."

Harry sighed. "I thought about that too, but I can talk to him."

A beat of silence followed.

"Was I your last resort?" Malfoy asked, running his fingers along the condensation of his glass.

"No. Why would you think that?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I just thought that given the chance you would have your pick of Weasley's to go along with you."

A twinge of guilt crept into Harry's stomach. "If it was left up to Ron I'm sure that's what would have happened. But when he asked me, you were my first choice."

The clouds shrouding Malfoy's face cleared rapidly. "Did he have an aneurysm at the mere mention of my name?" Malfoy asked, a mischievous grin playing on his face now.

Harry returned the expression with vigor. "Actually, he thinks you're a girl I'm seeing."

Malfoy coughed politely, but Harry's grin just grew wider. For the blond, that was the equivalent of someone's jaw dropping in horror. When he finally pulled himself together he said, "And you just let him believe that?"

"Why not? It's not like I was going to tell him about you right then. Especially when I wasn't even sure if you would want to come."

Another quiet silence settled over them both. Had Harry looked up from his glass he would have seen Malfoy biting his lip in concentration. "I don't think it's a good idea that I go."

Harry hadn't realized how much he was hoping for Malfoy's acceptance until he said no. "Why not?" he asked softly.

"If you recall, I have good reason to not want to be around someone who despises me and my family," his tone was chilly.

Harry grimaced, remembering again the fight with Tim, but also the bruises that crawled along Malfoy's side, marring the ivory skin. He wondered if they still lingered.

"I remember," he said finally, "but Ron would never do something like that." Unless provoked…

Malfoy opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it, opened it, and then tried again. "To be perfectly honest, it makes me nervous." He looked like the fact that he was being so forthcoming made him ill.

Harry's heart softened at the admission. "Don't be nervous. I'll protect you." He hadn't meant to whisper, but that was how it wound up coming out.

Malfoy's pewter eyes stared into Harry's and he tried not to squirm under the attention. He was expecting a sarcastic response.

"I don't need you to protect me Potter," Malfoy said, but his tone was quiet and had no bite to it.

The gentleness of the statement heartened Harry. He stood up and knelt in front of Malfoy, much in the way he had when analyzing his bruises in the kitchen. "I know you don't need me to. But I'd like to. You know I like to play hero," he added, smiling lightly.

He found his breath quickening as Malfoy scooted to the edge of the chair and slowly brought his forehead to rest on Harry's. The brunette couldn't move. The warmth of Malfoy's body was wrapping him up in the most tantalizing cocoon he'd ever experienced. A tingling sensation darted across the skin of his forehead and he swore that he could feel Malfoy's magic dancing along with his own.

"Let me think about it," Malfoy said, his lips dangerously close to Harry's own in this position. He had nearly forgotten the question he posed, so engrossed he was with the blond.

Harry inhaled shakily. "Alright." He braced himself to stand up, placing his hands on Malfoy's knees. Malfoy placed his hands on top of Harry's, effectively stopping the motion. He pulled back a little, looking in Malfoy's eyes. His gaze was questioning.

"What do you want to do now?" Malfoy asked tone still quiet as the grave.

Harry had to close his eyes so that he didn't blurt out the first thing that came to mind. "So many things," he admitted once he'd composed himself.

"Like what?"

"Things that I think it's too soon to do," Harry said, swallowing with an audible gulp.

Malfoy teased Harry's knuckles with the tips of his fingers. "When will it be the right time?"

"You know, you ask a lot of questions," Harry chuckled quietly.

"Stop avoiding the question."

Harry was slowly losing control of his senses. The only thing that was really focused was his hearing. The beat of his heart was like a thunderstorm in his ears, blood pumping dangerously fast. He really hoped that he wouldn't pass out. That wouldn't be the best way to impress his…date? Is that what this was?

Stop avoiding the question, his mind echoed Malfoy's statement back to him.

Fuck it.

Harry brought himself closer to Malfoy and gently placed his lips against the blonds. A small whimper that he was certain Malfoy didn't mean to make, escaped from the back of his throat.

Merlin. This was heaven. Malfoy's lips were soft and pliant, welcoming the caresses that Harry was now issuing. Malfoy's grip on his hands tightened and the blond deepened the kiss, rubbing his nose along Harry's as he traced the very tip of his tongue along Harry's upper lip.

This was too much. Harry couldn't breathe. How was this even happening? They were only kissing! Malfoy was only sliding his tongue into Harry's mouth. He was only twisting his tongue along Harry's, drawing a deep moan from the brunette's throat. They were only pressed up against each other so tightly that it was like they were trying to meld their bodies together. No big deal.

Liar.

Shakily, Harry pulled back and looked into Malfoy's eyes, praying that he was just as affected. He was not disappointed. Gray eyes were glazed over in front of him, struggling to focus as though he'd forgotten his reading glasses.

"Why -" Malfoy began, and then tried again after clearing this throat. "Why did you stop?"

Harry looked at him. "Because…it was intense."

"What's wrong with a little intensity?" Malfoy asked, dropping his forehead back onto Harry's.

"Why are you still asking questions?" Harry inquired.

Malfoy didn't respond and just waited for him to continue. "I don't want to go too fast," Harry admitted.

Licking his lips slowly, Malfoy placed a hand on the side of Harry's face. "Ok," he whispered.

Harry swallowed and remembered when Tim said that he would go slowly. "Are you sure? I just – I don't want things to get fucked up again. Tim said the same thing."

Malfoy pulled himself up into a haughty stance that Harry was infinitely more familiar with. "First of all, don't compare me to that half-wit. Second of all, I gave you my Wizards Oath. Combine that with my obligations of being a Malfoy and we're one step short of having an Unbreakable Vow."

Harry sniggered and finally leaned into Malfoy's touch.

The blond cleared his throat and then spoke. "Is this your first experience with a man?"

Harry's cheeks darkened for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. "You're my second. But I haven't gone further than heavy petting, or whatever the hell they call it."

"The fact that you don't know the terms doesn't bode well Potter," Malfoy said, but there was no malice in his voice.

"Stuff it Malfoy," Harry chuckled and shoved at the blonds chest playfully. "Besides, when I'm ready, you can teach me."

"Professor Malfoy," he mused. "I think I like it."

Harry bit back a small moan at all the professor/student dynamics that could play out and then shook his head to rid himself of the less than pure thoughts.

"Professor Malfoy," Harry repeated firmly, as though reading a resume, "director of pure-blood aesthetics and homoeroticism."

Malfoy snorted, an action Harry quite frankly never thought he'd see Malfoy do, before breaking out into a loud laugh.

The sight of the blond so relaxed and cheerful warmed Harry's heart. He leaned back in and placed a small, delicate kiss on Malfoy's lips.

"If you keep this up," Harry warned, "I'll be ready a lot sooner than you're expecting."

A challenge lit up Malfoy's eyes and the silver seemed to dance next to the flames moving in the fireplace. "Bring it on Potter."