Hello all!

Sorry it's late, and also sorry it's a bit short, but the chapter just didn't want to be any bigger so here you are – rest assured I'll make up for the length next chapter and ALSO with the goodies enclosed! Behold! Drarry! Admittedly not very exciting Drarry for the smut-lovers among you but our two very stupid protagonists are making progress of the physical kind. Hope you enjoy, as ever thank you so much for the support – reviews, favourites and alerts, hell, even just reading the bloody thing. Anyway you're all lovely, enjoy!

Lots of love,

TheGreenEyedIdiot xx

Later that night Draco lay in bed, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. He could not shake the thought that if they had just stayed a few moments longer… if he had not hesitated, not asked Potter for permission… Bellatrix might've been dead by now, and by his own hand.

He pounded his fist into the mattress and stifled a grunt of frustration. If only he hadn't been so cocky. The few moments it had taken his to stamp on Bellatrix's face would have been sufficient to end her completely. He remembered the look in her eyes as she lay frozen on the floor so clearly – she had not believed that he would kill her. How he would have loved to prove her wrong.

However, the idea that killing the bitch quickly would not have satisfied him wormed its way into his thoughts, and he could not shake it.

He turned his head to look at Potter's empty bed. He found himself actually missing the company - anything to take his mind off the unpleasantness of his thoughts.

He wondered if now, with Perfect Potter's testimony to Draco's genuine loyalty if he would be allowed to join them in the next fight. A ripple of laughter coursed through him as he imagined Scarhead's reaction if Draco were allowed to fight the next battle while Potter sat at home. The pleasure was short lived, however, as his mind filled once more with Bellatrix's frozen smirk and shattered nose. Draco sat up abruptly, determined to do something other than wallow. He swung his legs off the bed, slipped on his trousers and then his shoes. The warmth of the night did not necessitate a shirt, so he crept out of the room and down the stairs.

Harry could not sleep. Ginny was fast asleep next to him, having been administered a strong sleeping potion by her mother. She had fallen asleep curled around him, and Harry had not felt this much love for her in a long time – or more discontent with their relationship. He felt unworthy of her love, but worst of all he felt like a brother who had failed her, not a boyfriend. Their tearful reconciliation had been equal parts joy and shame for Harry who, despite reassurances from both Ginny and Hermione, felt that his behaviour to Ginny had been in some way to blame for the events of the battle. Harry carefully removed Ginny's arm from his chest, and slipped out of bed. He stared down at her for a moment. She really was beautiful. Her red hair spread out behind her on the pillow, eyes closed and newly healed lips a little swollen. She looked angelic. He carefully covered her exposed arm and torso with the duvet and left the room, glancing once more at her as he went.

Harry tiptoed down the stairs and into the garden where, not to his complete surprise, he found a topless Draco smoking a cigarette. Wordlessly Harry dropped into the chair beside him. Draco offered Harry a cigarette absently and Harry, equally unconsciously, took one. He lit it with his wand and took a tentative drag. He forced himself not to cough.

"I could have done it."

Harry looked at Draco, almost certain that he knew what the other man was talking about. Draco met his gaze and Harry was astonished to see tears in his eyes. Tears, which Draco seemed to be desperately withholding from spilling down his face. His face was tilted slightly back as though he was trying to direct them back into his tear ducts.

"I could have killed the bitch. Why did you make me leave?"

Harry replied carefully. Draco's distress made him tense. "Come on, you know we had to leave. Your parent- er, I mean, the Malfoys… they were- "

"Oh, fuck my parents!" Draco said, wildly, "I could've… I could've killed Bella and then who the fuck cares what happens to me? If I'd died at least I would have taken her with me. Your lot would be ecstatic." Draco's voice became more sober towards the end.

Harry's voice softened. "No they- I mean, we wouldn't. I know you don't want to believe it but you're actually very useful."

Draco's head snapped around, the tone of his voice was cold and it reminded Harry of the old Draco. "Don't fucking patronise me, Potter. I'm aware of my value to you lot, thank you, and I'm pretty sure it falls behind the value of a dead Bellatrix Lestrange."

Draco reclined in his chair and seemed to speak to himself next, "Why I actually care about the opinions of a gaggle of bloody Gryffindors is beyond me. Who the fuck cares if they trust me?"

Harry for some reason found himself saying, "Tonks was a Hufflepuff."

Draco didn't look at him, but spat sarcastically, "Oh, well thank fucking Merlin, a Hufflepuff! The epitome of good judgement."

But all at once the venom seemed to leave his countenance, and he simply looked tired now.

Harry could not think of anything helpful to say – could not even bring himself to be very angry about Draco's oft-repeated Gryffindor raging. The silence loomed thick in the air without hope of reprieve, but the moon suddenly broke through the clouds. Harry felt that he was somehow excused from speaking by its presence.

Several minutes later Draco spoke again. "I'm glad we found your girlfriend." Draco was staring at his ankles now. "I mean – Merlin knows what they would've done to her. My aunt-"

He broke off, not seeming to know what he was going to say. He glanced up at Ginny's window as he spoke, and kept his gaze there for a moment or two, squinting against the darkness. Harry replied quickly and gratefully. "Me too. And, er, thanks for your help. You were… really good today. I'd probably have been dead five seconds after reaching the battle if it weren't for you." Harry stuttered slightly as he praised Draco, fully expecting the blond to wrinkle his nose and smirk derisively. Draco, however, was still looking firmly at his ankles and only grimaced a little and shrugged.

"Don't worry about it. That's what babysitters are for."

Harry shot a sharp glance at Draco and found he had been too forgiving in his first assessment of Draco's facial expression. A corner of his mouth was twitching and his grey eyes laughed as he glanced back at Harry.

A cloud suddenly passed across Draco's face, and the laugh in his eyes flattened. Harry found that he didn't need to ask what was on Draco's mind. He glanced down at the cigarette in his hand. It was out. Draco threw the stub of his into the back of a rhododendron.

Harry looked now at Draco, whose pale skin had been rendered luminous by the moonlight. He placed the half-smoked cigarette in his hand carefully on the arm of his chair and shuffled forwards a little. Without thought, his hand came up to rest on Draco's upper arm. Harry supposed that he had intended to pat Draco consolingly, but his hand just lay there uselessly, becoming more and more awkward by the second. The blond looked a little surprised, but didn't move. Harry looked at his hand, willed it to do something. He found, to his satisfaction, that it did move – but only to a perch higher up Draco's arm. His skin was very, very soft, he noticed dully. Their eyes met; Draco questioning, Harry a little panicky. Draco had very nice eyes, Harry remembered. Grey and liquid and twinkling just a little at the moment, Harry supposed they were reflecting the moonlight because he couldn't imagine Draco's eyes ever twinkled of their own accord. Harry did not really register anything more than a wish to see Draco's eyes more clearly but found that quite suddenly, their heads were very close together. Harry rushed back to himself all at once, and he became hyper-aware of Draco's inquisitive expression, the warmth of his breath and the smell of cigarette smoke. Harry looked again, firmly, into Draco's eyes, imparting a split-second decision, before his hand moved up to Draco's shoulder and he pulled their heads together.

The first touch of their lips was all tingles. They spread through his mouth and throughout his whole body, almost making his shiver. And they did not stop. Draco was a wonderful kisser – how could he have expected less? Their mouths were not quite urgent, but certainly enthusiastic. Draco was certainly more refined, he kissed elegantly but his little noises of appreciation echoed in Harry's ears and sent cascades of tingles along his spine. Harry's hands were everywhere; first in Draco's hair, then his neck, shoulders, cheeks and back to his hair again. Draco's left hand was tugging at the neckline of Harry's t-shirt at the first, but soon he was trailing his long fingers up and down Harry's arms, along his spine, raking down his sides - all exceptionally gently. Slowly his fingers moved a little south; trailing along the gap between the back of his tshirt and his trousers. Harry found that he liked this very much and it was all he could do not to place his hand firmly on Draco's thigh, or, well, a little higher. After what seemed like no time at all, the kiss softened. Draco licked Harry's lip a little and Harry found himself moaning softly. They broke apart gently, neither wishing to fully withdraw because what the hell did they do when this was over? Draco pulled Harry to him once more, kissing him soundly, and finally it was done. Harry found that he could not remove his hand from Draco's neck. They looked at each other silently, catching their breath. Draco's trousers were uncomfortably tight, and, on glancing at Harry's lap, found to his delight that the brunette was similarly inconvenienced. Draco smiled at Harry dazedly. Harry found himself quite giddy.

Then reality came crashing down. Harry withdrew his hand slowly, as though afraid of startling Draco.

"I… I…"

Harry wished to say something sensible, coherent even, but found himself completely unmatched to the task. Draco shook his shoulders slightly. Harry stood, and found his crotch embarrassingly close to Draco's face.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry was quite pleased that he had managed to string a sentence together, and forced himself to walk, rather than run away. Draco watched Harry walk back into the house, and pulled out a cigarette.

Ginny drew away from the window, pensive. She was not exactly angry – not yet, anyway – which was unusual for her. She had a tendency to shout first and think later, a tendency she shared with most of her family.

But it was a difficult, and certainly entirely unprecedented situation she thought, as she climbed back into bed. Harry had cheated on her by kissing Draco, no doubt about that, and it had certainly looked as though Harry had been the one initiating it. She remembered Draco's gaze on her window minutes before the kiss. She was certain that he'd seen her, even before she drew back into the shadows. She could hear Harry's footsteps on the stairs, quiet though he tried to be. 17 years in this house had taught her how to read the nuances of the creaking stairs so that she was confident she could learn to identify any approaching step now.

The thing was, though, she thought, as Harry slipped quietly into the room, was that Harry wasn't gay. He wasn't even bisexual, as far as she knew. They'd been having problems in bed for a while now, but she'd always assumed that was stress.

Suddenly a horrible thought hit her like a saucepan to the head. What if Harry couldn't perform with her because he was already getting it from somewhere else? For example, a few floors above her where Harry and Draco were sharing a tiny room?

Harry, who had shed his shoes and trousers, slipped into bed behind her, and slipped an arm around her waist. His feet were cold. She was frozen, the idea impossible to shake. Why would that not be the case? Harry had certainly seemed bold enough out there, leaning in to kiss Draco just like that. Draco hadn't even seemed surprised, although she supposed that was hard to tell from up here. Who was to say they hadn't been at it for weeks? Who else knew? Draco had seen her standing there in the window. He didn't try to prevent Harry from kissing him even though he knew Ginny was watching. It was entirely possible that Malfoy was simply enough of a git that he'd kiss her boyfriend in front of her, but what if Malfoy thought she knew about them? Ginny was getting angry enough to forget that Draco's name was no longer Malfoy. Harry's breaths were quickly getting shallower and more even. She rolled over out of his arms. She couldn't think while he was all over her. Maybe he'd tell her in the morning. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe he needed reassurance after today. Maybe he was just curious. The answers to all but one of those questions came immediately into her head. A mistake where she apparently hallucinated very vividly seeing Harry and Malfoy kiss? More reassurance than she needed, tonight of all nights? As though curiosity was ever an excuse, as though Ginny herself hadn't been curious. It did not negate their relationship. The only answer she could not provide; maybe he would tell her in the morning. All she could do was wait. She would give him fair time to tell her, and then, if he said nothing, Merlin help the boy.