Not for the first time, Harry wishes he'd paid attention to Draco Malfoy sooner than this. Right now, he's on the floor in front of the couch, beer in hand, leaning against Draco's legs. Draco's running his fingers through Harry's hair and Harry's wondering how something so simple can possibly feel so good.

"I like how I don't have to worry about messing up your hair in doing this," Draco comments. "Can't possibly make it any worse."

"That's very sweet of you to say," says Harry. "What's everyone doing? Why are we alone?"

"Are you complaining?" Harry looks up at Draco, who's smirking down at him. "Luna and Longbottom are in the kitchen with Ron and Hermione, picking which wine is bad enough to waste on a drinking game. Everyone else decided it was too late."

"It's only..." Harry cranes his neck to look at the ancient grandfather clock behind the couch Draco is sitting on. "Oh, when'd it get past midnight?"

"When you kept nodding off while Hermione and I talked about how they're trying to get Incendio put on the Unforgivables list. That's when Thomas disappeared with a girl literally none of us had ever seen and Corner and his wife had to go relieve their babysitter. Corner aside, your parties are very Gryffindor-heavy, Potter."

Harry shrugs. "You stick to what you know, I suppose."

"Except for you."

"Well, what can I say? I like making a statement." Harry grins up at Draco, who rolls his eyes before leaning down to brush a kiss across the crown of Harry's head.

"OK, we've all played Never Have I Ever before, right?" Ron asks as he walks into the room with two bottles of white wine and a stack of red plastic cups. Hermione, Neville, and Luna follow him in.

"This is the one where you drink after you have done something whatever less adventurous person hasn't, right?" Draco nods. "A Slytherin common room staple."

"You drank in your common room?" asks Hermione.

"Didn't you?"

The others arrange themselves in a loose circle on either side of Harry and Draco. Ron hands out the cups and pours wine into each of them.

"I think Harry should start," says Ron.

"No, I definitely shouldn't," Harry says. "I've done more stupid things than the rest of you lot combined."

"That's for damn sure," says Draco, running his fingers through Harry's hair again.

"Alright, fine, I'll go," Neville volunteers. "Never have I ever been attracted to a Hogwarts professor."

Harry rolls his eyes and takes a drink. He's not surprised to see Hermione do the same, though Ron looks to be. It is a little odd to know that Draco has, at some point, looked at a professor a little bit differently from what's proper. He turns to Draco and mouths, "Snape?" Draco nods. Harry mouths "Me too," Draco smiles, and Harry wonders who else they may have both been attracted to in the past.

"Wait, it wasn't Vector, was it?" Ron asks Hermione, who sighs.

"Of course it was Vector," she says. "Draco, surely you can attest to his appeal. Numbers are sexy, anyway."

"He's a good looking man, Weasley," says Draco. "I'll go next, alright? Never have I ever, oh, I don't know, used Polyjuice Potion."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione take a drink.

"What?" Neville and Draco ask in unison.

"I'll tell you later," Harry promises Draco. "Oh, here's one. Never have I ever kissed a girl and enjoyed it." He's pleased to see Draco hold off from drinking.

"I won't tell Ginny, Harry," says Ron.

"I might," Hermione says, eyes sparkling. "My turn! Never have I ever cast an Unforgivable Curse." She raises an eyebrow at Harry, who shakes his head as he gulps down some wine. He turns to look at Draco, who's doing his best to surreptitiously do the same.

"Wait, what have you done? I—" Harry remembers their encounter in the toilet sixth year, how he cut off Draco's Crucio with a Sectumsempra. It's not a thought Harry revisits very often. But, rather inexplicably, Draco is smiling.

"I used the Imperius Curse on Theo Nott to convince him to keep my things clean all through first year." Everyone laughs as Draco leans back, looking quite satisfied with himself. "I can blame that on misled youthful thinking."

"You could cast an Imperius Curse at age 11?" Hermione sounds impressed.

"I had lessons every day from age six onward," says Draco with a shrug. "Some from Severus, some from my mother, and most from my father."

"Private lessons with Snape? No wonder you were so good at Potions," Ron says. "What other hidden talents don't we know about?"

"Would you really like to know the answer to that?" asks Draco. Ron turns nearly as red as his hair, and Hermione clears her throat before suggesting they get back to the game.

"I haven't gone yet," says Luna, "nor has Ron. Ron, would you like to go first, or shall I?"

"I'll take this one," Ron says. "Never have I ever kissed a man."

A collective groan goes up as everyone but Ron takes a drink.

"Really, Neville?" asks Harry.

Neville flushes slightly but holds his composure rather well, given the circumstances. "It was a dare at Seamus' 19th birthday party. Honestly, I think Dean would have a harder time admitting it than I do."

"And how was it?" Hermione asks.

"Odd, really," says Neville. "Women are a lot softer than men. There's a roughness there that's not necessarily pleasurable—my apologies, boys," he says with a wave at Harry and Draco.

"You're quite forgiven, Longbottom," Draco says, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders. "I'd rather have Potter to myself anyway."

"I'm next, then," says Luna. "Never have I ever loved someone on or before the first date."

Harry doesn't dare look at Draco as he downs the dregs of his wine. He does hear a gulp behind him, though, and what a welcome sound that is. Harry sees Hermione take Ron's hand, and the two of them exchange the kind of look Harry's always envied, but is beginning to think he won't have to envy anymore.

"It's getting a bit late now, isn't it?" Draco asks, standing and stretching. Harry follows suit as they thank Ron and Hermione for hosting, say their goodbyes, and walk out the door. Draco extends a hand, and Harry takes it as they walk to the edge of Ron and Hermione's drive.

"I'd say this night was a success," says Draco, lacing his fingers through Harry's. "Not too many reporters, and I don't think anyone would've seen us leaving as a group with your lot and thought something was afoot."

"You and your properness," Harry says, laughing. "I can safely say I've never heard anyone use the word 'afoot' in casual conversation before. And, hey, they're your lot now, too."

"Are they?" Draco asks as they reach the sidewalk. "I have to go left, and I'm guessing, from the way you're veering, that you don't."

Harry shakes his head. "My flat's just a few blocks away. I used to live in London proper, in my godfather's family home, but I got my own place a few years ago. Too many memories, I think."

"I'm glad you can tell me that sort of thing," says Draco. "Guess I really am one of your lot now, then."

"More than that," Harry says, running his free hand along Draco's maddeningly perfect jaw. Or maybe not so maddeningly. Right now, it's suiting Harry just fine.

"I—well, we both had a brilliant time tonight," says Harry. "Didn't we?"

"I'd agree to that, yes," Draco says. "I should tell you before you ask that I don't like the term 'boyfriend.' I highly prefer 'significant other' or 'the man I'm seeing.' There's something very juvenile about 'boyfriend.'"

"Is that your way of asking me to ask you out?" Harry holds back a laugh. Draco can tell.

"I suppose it is," he says, breaking down and laughing. Harry joins him, and that's what they do for about 15 seconds until Harry notices how close his face is to Draco's and, by extension, how close together their lips are. Taking advantage, he leans in and kisses Draco. It's soft and closed mouthed and quick, but it's exactly what Harry wants it to be—a kind of question.

"And that's your way of asking me out, I suppose," Draco says after a beat.

"Can't wait to see how you say yes," says Harry. "Well, presuming it's yes. I think if it had been no, you'd have slapped me and walked away by now."

"Too right," says Draco, initiating the kiss this time. This time, Harry leaves his mouth open, and before losing all rational thought, he convinces himself that he should never close it again when he kisses Draco, because as it turns out, Draco's tongue has more uses than clever lies and painful insults. He seems able to map out every sensitive bit of Harry's mouth, and Harry's not sure how long he allows it to happen, but it's messy and frantic and wonderful the entire time, even when loud, rhythmic applause interrupts them.

"That's really lovely, boys," says Neville, joining them outside. "Any other tricks you'd like to show off?"

"Not outside the bedroom, Longbottom," Draco says dryly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why don't you two run along, let the adults talk?"

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," says Neville with a grin, hooking his arm around Luna's waist and walking the other way. Harry looks at Draco, who's walking toward the right now.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were walking toward my flat," Harry says, catching up and putting his arm across Draco's shoulders. Immediately, Draco's arm encircles Harry's waist.

"I am," says Draco. "But not to go there myself, just to walk you home, because that's what a gentleman does, especially after a gentleman participates in some mind-blowing snogging at the bottom of someone else's drive."

"Fair enough," Harry says. "Are you doing anything tomorrow night?"

"Little eager, aren't we, Potter?" Draco looks at Harry sidelong and smiles. "I typically spend Sundays at the Manor."

"I thought that was Tuesdays."

"Good memory. It's both. Sundays are more of an event, though. Parkinsons and Zabinis and Notts running rampant. You could come along if you'd like."

"Sounds terrifying. I'm not sure I'm ready to meet your mother yet."

"You've met," says Draco. "I believe she saved your life once."

"You know what I mean," Harry says. "As your significant other. See, the nice thing about being an orphan is there's no awkward interaction with my parents on your part."

"Only you could make light of your orphaned status." Draco squeezes Harry's hand.

"I do what I can. So, let's not do tomorrow, unless you really want me to."

"Eventually, I would like it if you did. But that can happen later." Draco pauses. "You know I'd like to be with you for the foreseeable future, right?"

"You hadn't quite put it that way before," says Harry. "But yeah, I had guessed so. And I'm assuming you know I feel the same."

"It's nice to hear it out loud anyway." There's comfortable silence for a minute or two till Harry decides to break it.

"What Luna asked about earlier—"

"I think it's enough to know that we both know, Harry." Draco stops walking and pulls Harry by the shoulder till they're facing each other. "I'm not good at actually expressing my feelings, saying them out loud. Drinking worked better, in this case, don't you think?" He leans in and they're kissing again, deeper, more urgently this time, Draco's mouth moving from Harry's to the chin and the neck and, after pulling at Harry's shirt collar, the collarbone. Harry gasps and sees his breath and remembers where they are.

"Draco, I know neither of us care about the press—at least, not too much—but we are out in wizarding London, snogging on a street corner."

Draco lets go of Harry and takes a step back. "I suppose you have a point."

Harry gestures to the next street. "We're almost to my flat. I—I really want to ask you in but I don't think I should." They start walking again and Draco looks at Harry speculatively before putting his arm around Harry's waist again. Harry leans into him, taking in that uniquely wonderful Draco smell, piney with a hint of something fruity.

"No, probably not," says Draco. "I don't want to move too fast with this. It has the potential to ruin things."

"I thought you should know that I desperately want to anyway," Harry says. "I'm right here."

Draco nods and, looking reluctant, takes his arm away from Harry's waist. "Thank you. For asking me along tonight."

"Who else would I ask?" Harry smiles and kisses Draco, quickly this time, so as not to invite attention or any more temptation than is already there. "It's always been you and me, hasn't it?"

"Yes. I'd say it has. Good night, Potter." Draco kisses Harry again. It's not quite as mild as what's just happened, but it's not as heated as earlier. It's a happy medium, one of the happier mediums Harry's reached in memory.

"Good night, Malfoy." Before he can change his mind, Harry turns and walks into his flat, finally answering Draco's question to himself—yes, this time, drinking worked better.