"...yes, and thank you as well Minister. We will get back to you as soon as we have more information." Sirius' voice came drifting into the hall as Harry opened the front door on his arrival home from work. "Yes, of course, and give my best to Jana would you?"

Harry stepped into the drawing room as his godfather was withdrawing his head from the green flames at the end of his floo call. "Was that Kingsley?" Harry asked.

Sirius clearly had not heard him enter, and he jumped at the question. "Oh Harry, it's just you. You know, you really shouldn't sneak up on a man. Especially not one as jumpy as I am." Harry offered Sirius an apologetic smile before the other man continued. "Yes, that was Shacklebolt. He was just telling me about the new lead that you have been investigating. Why didn't you tell me, Harry?" Sirius asked, sounding slightly wounded.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I didn't tell you because it's rubbish. About a week ago there was rumor that Alecto Carrow had been amassing followers in the south of Wales. Ron and I went over and checked it out and it was nothing. Just a radical group of supporters meeting up to talk about where the "movement" Voldemort led had gone wrong. Slimy bastards, the lot of them, but not dangerous. When questioned, they didn't even know who Carrow was. Kingsley still thinks there may be something there, but I'm doubtful." Harry rubbed his eyes reflectively. He was getting legitimately sick of following dead end leads. "I don't know how many more of these I can handle." Harry slumped down into the over-sized arm chair by the now smoldering fire.

Sirius came over and gave Harry a knowing pat on the shoulder. "I am tired of it to, but we will get a break. I can feel it, something is coming and fast." Sirius peered over Harry's shoulder and laughed before dropping his voice low enough for only Harry to hear. "Besides, much longer in the ancestral Black house and our reluctant guest might as well start going by his mother's family name."

Harry blanched and cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Malfoy was standing in the open doorway, with a look of disdain and boredom staining his attractive features. Despite this, Harry couldn't seem to look anywhere besides his steel grey eyes which were, at present, located directly on Harry. "Welcome home Potter, you have missed quite the exciting day around here. Between reading, composing a letter, and avoiding your overstuffed chicken it has been an endless stream of mind numbing boredom." The corners of his lips turned up into a small smirk as he sauntered forward and inelegantly draped himself over the arm of one of the rooms squashy chairs. "Though I did find an impressive number of improvements that need to be made to your home. Shall I list them?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not my home, Malfoy, you know that." He cast a fleeting glance at Sirius, who seemed to be doing everything he could to stifle his laughter. "And no, I would really rather you didn't list anything seeing as I just got home from work and I really don't care."

Draco pouted out his lower lip slightly, and Harry could feel the blush creeping into his cheeks. Despite himself, he really just wanted to go over and kiss that stupid git's pout until it melted away. Harry blushed as he pushed that thought from his mind. "Pity, I worked so hard on it to." Draco stated flatly. Harry was decently sure he was losing the plot.

Sirius though seemed to find the entire thing amusing, no longer putting forth even the slightest effort to conceal his laughter. His eyes shone with a mischievous glint that Harry had no intention of trying to decipher. "Well Harry," Sirius started, "I think it best if I let you two alone for a bit. Besides, I've got some letters to compose myself." Harry shot Sirius the dirtiest glare he could muster, but the man simply looked amused and gave Harry a wink and Draco a small nod farewell. The blonde simply went back to examining his cuticles. "Good day gentlemen." And with that he left the room.

As the doors closed behind his treacherous god father, suddenly Harry became overly aware of everything going on around him. As he shifted his weight from foot to foot the floorboards creak felt deafening in the silent room. He could hear his own breath rough and hard, as he reached up and loosened his tie. When did it get so hot in here anyways? The clock on the wall ticked a monotonous beat and his heart beat seemed to crash in his ears twice for every tick. All week he had been trying, and failing, to find something to say to Malfoy. But every time the other man had even been near him, his mouth went dry and his hands got clammy. All he could think was that, somehow, Malfoy knew what Harry had been imagining.

And oh had he been imagining. More than once this week he had woken up far too soon from an amazing dream filled with tousled blonde hair and skewed glasses. And more than once he had had to use a cleaning charm before he could ever think of getting out of bed. At this rate, he might as well just become a house elf with how good he was getting at cleaning up a mess. Honestly, it was starting to get ridiculous. It wasn't as if he was some sixteen-year-old fantasizing about the captain of the Holyhead Harpies again. He was a fully grown man, who had only ever been with women; yet, suddenly he was having dreams and fantasies of sharp lines and defined muscles of a man he hated for the better portion of his life. What the fuck was wrong with him?

So, like any mature adult would do in a sexuality crisis, he had spent the better part of his time since that night in the kitchen doing what he did best: avoiding Draco Malfoy like he had dragon pox. Also a lot of wanking. But despite it being obvious that he should probably check himself into St. Mungo's, he couldn't help looking forward to his shower each day.

But now they were here. Harry could feel his face heating up as he searched his currently blank mind for something to say that didn't involve wanting to push Malfoy up against the closest wall and snog him until he couldn't breathe. "So, um, see the Cannons score in that last match?" He asked, feeling rather ridiculous talking about sports.

When Draco didn't respond right away, Harry glanced up and saw steel grey eyes locked on him, watching him quizzically. "No, Potter," he stated, without his usual arrogant drawl, "I'm not much for the Prophet these days and the Quibbler isn't exactly up to date on current events. Well," he paused, now studying his nails thoughtfully, "at least not real ones."

Harry let out a short, nervous laugh, but could already feel the tension in his shoulders easing up a bit."That's definitely true. Though, I am really happy with what Luna has done with the magazine since she took over. It's world's more entertaining now. And she gets the best interviews. I don't know how she does it."

Draco snorted, and picked himself up before wandering to the large picture window in the corner and gazing out at the street below. "I'm not surprised. That woman could talk to anyone." He said softly. "Luna was really kind to me at a time when I really didn't deserve it."

Harry realized then that Draco sounded sad, which was not something Harry was used to. He suddenly felt the need to comfort Draco somehow. His first instinct was to hug him, but quickly brushed that aside. Instead he simply came over to stand next to the window. A few moments went by, with both men lost in quiet thoughts before Harry spoke. "I know what that's like. I don't know if I've known anyone as trusting or as annoyingly perceptive as she is. Sometimes I swear she knows more about me then I do."

When Harry stole a glance at Malfoy, he saw that his lips were turned up slightly into a genuine smile. When Malfoy turned and looked at him though, he simply rolled his eyes. "Potter, you are in textbooks, newspapers, magazines, playing cards,and picture books for children. I'm pretty sure everyone knows you better than you do."

Harry laughed, but a real one this time. "Yeah, you're probably right. Everyone knows the great hero Harry Potter." He turned a devilish smile on Draco. "Even you Malfoy."

At this, a look crossed Malfoy's face that Harry didn't recognize, but made his insides light on fire. A second later the trademark Malfoy mask was back in place. "I'd like to think I know you a bit better than any sodding children's book."

Harry chuckled a bit. "You're right. I almost forgot how adept you were at writing articles about my life back in school. Rita Skeeter's favorite little spy."

Despite himself, Harry felt more than a little proud as Draco's face flushed a slight shade of pink. "Yeah, about that," Draco started, definitely avoiding Harry's eyes. "I'm sorry, Potter. I was a right git back then."

The apology made Harry's stomach flip flop and something warm settle in his chest. If someone had told him a year ago that Draco bloody Malfoy would be standing in front of him apologizing for being a git in school, he would have carted them off that instant. Yet, here they were, in the drawing room of his godfathers home, and Draco was in fact apologizing. As he stared at this man, he realized he didn't know him at all, and for some reason this did not settle well with Harry. The boy he had known, who said terrible things and threatened his life was not the same man that stood in front of him now. Also, he realized that Malfoy was longingly staring out a window at an empty street. He had been cooped up inside this house for over a week with nothing to do and, really, no one to talk to. Suddenly, he felt extremely guilty about avoiding him all week. Though Harry was surely the last person Malfoy would want to talk to, he was sure it would have been better that being completely alone. He knew what he had to do.

"Hey, Malfoy? I have an idea."

Draco simply raised an eyebrow in response. "Be careful now Potter. We wouldn't want you pulling something thinking too hard." he said. Yet, despite his taunting words, he looked genuinely curious.

"How do you feel about grabbing some dinner with me tonight?" Harry said quickly, so that he didn't lose his nerve. He quickly continued before Malfoy could open his mouth to protest. "I know I'm probably not your first, over even your tenth choice for a dinner partner, but it has to be better than staying here. I'm sure you have terrible cabin fever. We could put on some glamours and go somewhere in muggle London. I know you hate muggles and all but it really is the safest bet. I know this really great Italian place nearby and-"

"Potter, for the love of Salazar shut up." Draco yelled, shutting Harry up instantly. "Merlin, you talk a lot once you start going. Could you have managed to say more words in the space of ten seconds?"

"Sorry. I just thought-" Harry stammered, before being interrupted again.

"Didn't I just say shut it?" Draco admonished. "If you would let me get a word in, you would know that I was going to say yes."

Harry wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. He couldn't help beaming. "Really? You'll go? Even though it's in muggle London?"

"Honestly Potter, were you just born unobservant?" Draco said. "Did you not notice my apartment? Fridge, tele, muggle wizard mixed community. Ringing any bells?

Harry shrugged, flashed a sheepish grin at Malfoy and scrubbed at the back of his head. "Guess I didn't notice. To me, that's just a regular flat since I grew up with all that stuff. I don't notice when a person does or doesn't have it. Even you."

"Well, I do." Draco said, sounding a bit defensive. "In case you haven't noticed, not only am I not really in a place to uphold all the pureblood crap any more but I also don't care to."

Harry beamed again. "Well, great then. I just need to go shower and get out of my work robes. How about if we leave in around twenty minutes?"

Draco plopped himself back into the armchair from before and picked up the closest issue of Witch Weekly, which just so happened to have Ginny Weasley written across the cover where she showed off her brand new Puddlemere United uniform. Draco hadn't seemed to notice. "Fine, fine. Twenty minutes. I anxiously await your return." He drawled sarcastically.

Harry just shook his head as he turned to leave, listening to the rustle of the pages as Malfoy flipped through the three-month-old magazine. When Harry reached the stairs, he paused for a moment as the reality of the situation hit him. He and Draco Malfoy were about to go out and get dinner at a nice Italian restaurant together. Alone together. Suddenly he found that he couldn't swallow. What had he just gotten himself into?

When Harry got down stairs, he found Malfoy had spread out onto a couch with the magazine draped over his eyes. He appeared to be asleep, and Harry allowed himself a moment to just look at him. There was something vulnerable and endearing about the way his arm had fallen half hazardly over the couches edge and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It was so rare for Harry to see Malfoy as anything other than the, admittedly gorgeous, antagonistic prat he had always been. Though he didn't know how, he knew he wanted to see Malfoy like this more often. Lost in his thoughts, Harry was startled when Draco spoke.

"So, are you just going to stand there creepily," Malfoy drawled, not removing the magazine from his face, "or are we going to eat?"

Harry laughed, took the magazine and smacked Draco's head with it. "Bugger off. Let's go eat."

"Watch it Potter," Malfoy said, "from what I've heard assault is a crime punishable by time in Azkaban."

"Whatever, Malfoy," Harry said, rolling his eyes and tossing Malfoy's coat at his face. "Come on, I thought we could walk there. It's only about eight blocks from here."

Malfoy simply nodded as he shrugged on his charcoal grey blazer. Before they left, Harry cast glamours on them both. Of all the training he had gotten to become an auror, this was by far the most useful trick for his day to day life. It let him go out and do what he wanted like a normal wizard without being stopped every ten minutes by someone wanting to thank him or get his autograph. Even though it had died down substantially since the war ended, there were still always people wanting something from him. Today he put on a few glamours. One made his raven black hair a mousey brown, another made his green eyes appear blue, and a third made his scar fade away. As a final thought, he gave himself some freckles across his nose. When he turned to Draco and raised his wand, Draco looked nervous, but kept his chin defiantly high. His glamours made him look a bit less pointy, his white blonde hair turn the color of honey, and his striking grey eyes soften to a muted brown. When Harry finished, Draco turned to the hall mirror and examined his features.

"Well I must say, Potter, I'm surprised." Malfoy said, turning his head to and fro as he looked at himself. "I think we have actually found a magic you are quite good at. Maybe you should think about opening up beauty parlour."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Be careful, Malfoy, that almost sounded like a compliment."

Malfoy's cheeks turned a bit pink before he turned with a genuine smile on his new face. "Well, we simply can't have that can we? We should probably just go then and pretend that never happened."

"Whatever you say, prat."

The walk to the restaurant went quickly, with Malfoy rattling on about the various improvements he thought should be implemented back at the house. Apparently, he had decided to ignore Harry's earlier insistence on not wanting to know. Despite that, Harry couldn't bring himself to mind. Even under glamours, Draco was still unbelievably handsome. His eyes shone when he talked and his arms gestured wildly. Harry was willing to let Draco talk about whatever he wanted, as Harry was content to just hear the man's voice. Something about the easy air between them made Harry feel warm inside, like a hot cup of tea on a winter day. This… thing that was happening between them was just a bit too comfortable. If things kept going the way they were, Harry was going to have to admit to himself that he may not be quite as straight as he had always imagined. As they walked, Harry kept having to restrain the unbelievable urge to loop his arm through Malfoy's and keep him close so they could soak up each other's warmth. He was so caught up in his thoughts, that he barely noticed when they made it to the restaurant.

Reaching the door first, Harry held it open for Malfoy, earning him a puzzled look. When they reached the front desk, the young blonde hostess smiled at them warmly. "Hi. Just the two of you this evening?" She asked, with a sparkle in her eye.

"Yes, thank you. Do you have any near the window?" Harry asked.

"Of course! In fact, we have a table near the back that is very private and romantic, right next to a big window."

Harry can't help the flush spreading over his face. "Oh, um, well it's not like that. But, er, thanks," he stammered out while they took their seats. The hostess gave them a puzzled look, before smiling at them again and heading back to the front. Great, now it looked like they were on a date. Harry sighed and awkwardly avoided Malfoy's eyes, as the other picked up the wine menu.

"Well," Malfoy started, "They certainly have a nice wine list if nothing else. I'm assuming you like wine Potter?"

Harry looked up and saw that, apparently, Malfoy had either missed or was choosing to ignore the exchange between Harry and the hostess and was studiously examining the wine list. "Yeah, I drink wine. I prefer red."

Malfoy looked over the top of the list at Harry, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Who'd have thought we would have something in common?" At this, he snapped his fingers to signal a waiter who promptly came over. "We will take a bottle of your '96 Falletto di Bruno Giacosa Asili Reserva and a caprese salad with two plates to start per favore."

The waiter simply nodded and left through the back door to the kitchen before Harry could say a word. "Hey, what was that?" Harry demanded. "And since when do you speak Italian."

"Oh untwist Potter. I ordered us the best wine on the menu and a starter. Just trust me, you'll love it."

Harry silently seethed a bit. First, this gets called a date. Then, Malfoy orders for him. This whole thing was becoming ridiculous, though apparently he was the only one who could see that. "I am perfectly capable of ordering for myself, thanks."

Malfoy rolled his eyes as the waiter returned with the wine. "Grazie," he said to the waiter before turning back to Harry. "I'm sure you can, Potter. Just not as well as I can." With that he began pouring them each a generous portion of wine. "You know what, how about you just try it and then tell me if I'm right."

Harry narrowed his eyes, but decided that the best course of action dealing with a Malfoy was to concede. "Fine," he said, before taking a long sip of the wine. As loathe as he was to admit it, the wine was phenomenal. The flavor was full bodied with cherry notes, subtly passing over the tongue and leaving a spicy note at the end. The flavor was rich and complex, and Harry was not the least bit surprised Draco liked this wine. Not that he could ever admit any of this to him. The last thing he needed was to further inflate Malfoy's bloated ego. "Alright, it's a good wine."

"Good." Malfoy snorted. " You really do have poor tastes, don't you?" Malfoy said, taking a long sip from his glass. As he did, his eyes seemed to roll back with pleasure. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from Malfoy's throat bobbing each time he swallowed. For the second time today, it was getting much too hot for Harry's liking despite it only being about 12 degrees out. He was, thankfully, snapped out of his trance when Malfoy spoke again, "Granted, it's not as good as the '61 Blaise and I had when we toured through Italy a few summers ago."

Blaise, of course. A Zabini. Of course Draco knew Italian and was well versed in good Italian wine. Harry was grateful he had chosen this restaurant as opposed to the burger place downtown he had been tempted to go to. Something told him they wouldn't have wines older than this year. "I'll have to take your word for it."

A few minutes later, the waiter came back with the caprese salad. Harry ordered the lasagna and Draco ordered melanzane alla parmigiana or (as he had to explain to Harry) eggplant parmesan. As the night went on, they talked about a lot. Draco told Harry about his trip to Italy, Harry told Draco about a case he had in Brussels the year before. They talked about Quidditch, their jobs, and the ridiculousness of the Prophet. All in all, it was actually a pleasant time. As they talked, Harry found himself transfixed with the way Draco slowly swirled the blood red wine around his glass and how his cheeks would slightly dimple and his eye would shine when he would get excited about a story he was telling. After finishing their food, and the better part of two bottles of wine, Harry started to realize that it was entirely possible that what he had been feeling lately was more than just fantasies about silk bed sheets and hot showers. The realization made his head spin, though that may have just been the wine.

"...and that's when Pansy decided to tell me that she had transfigured it into a sugar bowl!" Draco said, with a genuine smile that made Harry's stomach feel like a kaleidoscope of butterflies living in his stomach.

"Oh no!" Harry said through fits of laughter. "Hopefully you got her back for that!"

Malfoy's smile slid into a mischievous one that did nothing to help Harry's stomach. "What, did you think she really had a potions accident in third year that turned her hair red and gold?"

Harry laughed again, remembering that day. Pansy had looked furious the entire time. It had been the highlight of the week. "I remember that. The whole Gryffindor table was trying to figure out who had jinxed her to look like a Gryffindor mascot because obviously her potions story had been bullshit. I can't believe that was you. Everyone was convinced it was the twins or Seamus and Dean."

Draco sent Harry a smug smirk. "Well believe it. I don't take well to being fucked with, and I was good at getting my revenge back then." As he talked, his eyes looked a little sad. "I really was a bit of a prick back then."

"You know, Draco, you are not the eleven year old git I remember."

"Oh no?"

"No," Harry said with a pensive smile. "See the boy I remember was pretentious, argumentative, cowardly, arrogant, and a complete prick."

Surprisingly, Malfoy just laughed. "So you don't think I am that way anymore?" He inquired.

Harry smiled up at Malfoy. "No, I still think you're pretentious, argumentative, cowardly, and arrogant," Harry paused for effect as he finished the last of the wine, "You just aren't a complete prick anymore."

Draco's face broke into a slow, easy smile. "Well, Potter, at least that's something."

"Why do you still call me that?" Shit, why did I say that?

Malfoy sat forward a bit and frowned, arms folded on the table and eyes turned down. "You know, I'm not sure. Guess that's just what I've always called you. You still call me Malfoy." He paused, then added with a smirk, "Most of the time."

Harry flushed. "Yeah, I guess that's true. But you're different now." He said, chuckling. When he looked up, Draco was staring right at him. "I spent the last twelve years hating Malfoy. I think I want to spend some time getting to know Draco."

For a few moments, their eyes locked on each other. Everything around Harry seemed to dull compared to the rich brown of Draco's new eyes, though Harry found himself wishing they were still that cool grey. The way the torch lights warmed his pale skin and softened his sharp features; the way his small smile caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle. Though he wasn't pretty like Cho had been, captivating like Fleur, or breathtaking like Ginny, there was something to be said about the way Draco's hair fell across his forehead and the way his eyes reflected everything he was feeling. Yes, Harry realized, he was in way too deep with this one. Maybe it was the wine talking, but all he knew was that he had to say something. He couldn't deny it any more.

"Draco, I-"

"So, is there anything else I can get you boys?" The owner that Harry knew to be named Paolo said, all smiles, as he approached the table.

It may have been Harry's imagination, but when the waiter approached and the moment broke, Draco almost looked disappointed. "No, nothing else. Just the bill." Harry said, shaking his head slightly with a small smile. What had he been thinking. There had been no moment. Draco wasn't disappointed, Harry was just projecting. "Thank you, Paolo."

Paolo gave a small bow. "It's nothing, Mr. Evans, we are always grateful to have you." He set the bill down and smiled. "You have always been my favorite customer."

Malfoy hid a chuckle from behind his napkin, and Harry shot him a dirty glare as he set down the money for dinner. "Well you guys are the best. You can take this, and keep the change."

"Thank you again, Mr. Evans. Have a wonderful night, gentlemen." Paolo said, before taking his leave.

"Not a word, Malfoy," Harry said.

"Oh no, I wouldn't dream of it." Draco drawled, before finishing off the last of his glass. He stood quickly and slipped back into his blazer before turning to leave. As they walked, he half turned his head to Harry. "Thank you so much for dinner, Mr. Evans." He said, putting extra emphasis on Harry's fake name.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Let it alone, or I'll take back all those nice things I said about you at dinner."

"Nice things!" Draco said, feigning intense objection. "You called me pretentious, arrogant, and cowardly!"

Harry laughed while they strolled lazily down the street. "Don't forget argumentative."

"I am offended. And here I thought you were such a nice man, Mr. Evans." Malfoy teased, smacking Harry on the arm.

"Now who's going to have to be arrested for assault? And against an Auror, too; I think you're looking at hard time." Harry teased back.

"So, Harry Evans huh?" Draco asked. "How did you come to that name?"

"It's James actually, James Evans." Harry said, blushing furiously. He had never told anyone other than Ron about his glamour name, and that was only because Ron had been his Auror partner at the time he had chosen it. "It's a combination of my parents names."

When Malfoy didn't respond right away, Harry stole a look at him. His eyes had a faraway look to them and his lips were turned slightly up at the corners. "Well Potter, that is surprisingly sweet of you. Are you certain you aren't a Hufflepuff?"

Harry just smiled and rolled his eyes. For a few minutes they were both quiet. It had gotten rather chilly out, and with the mix of the wine in his stomach and the warmth radiating from Malfoy, Harry couldn't help but be happy. This had been one of the better evenings he had experienced in a long time. The tedious days of chasing dead-end leads seemed to slip away as he enjoyed the stars beginning to blink into the dusk sky. Walking along, Harry began to notice that they were both drifting toward each other. Not that he minded, but he was surprised Draco wasn't moving away. Perhaps he just hadn't noticed. And then their knuckles brushed and it was like lightning shot through his hand. It took everything in Harry to not gasp and jump away. When he looked over at Malfoy though, the blonde appeared to not even have noticed. Everything in Harry was buzzing from the unexpected contact, and he quickly trained his eyes on the ground.

"I love the cold." Draco said suddenly. "It's so bracing. I mean, don't get me wrong. There is something to be said about lying on a beach with the warm sun baking you. But this is the weather I look forward to all year."

"Well, Malfoy. It looks like we have more in common than just wine preferences." Harry said.

"I'm surprised. I would have thought you would prefer the warm Quidditch weather." Malfoy said, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"Don't get me wrong, I love a good Quidditch weather day." Harry said. "But something about spending winter in the snow at Hogwarts made me fall in love with the season. Everything feels more magical and the world seems quieter during the winter somehow. Almost like the snow is muting everything." Harry flushed when he realized how sappy he sounded. Damn wine was turning him into a damn Hufflepuff. When he looked up at Malfoy, the man was studying him intensely, just making Harry flush harder. "I know, I sound like a bloody girl."

Draco simply shook his head and smiled. "No, believe me, I know what you mean."

Harry smiled, and looked right in Malfoy's eyes, which he realized were beginning to lighten back to gray. Crap, the glamours were starting to fade. "Come on, we better get back. The glamours only work for a few hours and we still have a few blocks to go." And then their knuckles brushed again, and again Draco seemed unfazed. Also like before, it was like lightning or fire spreading through Harry's arm. All he could think about was how amazing it would feel to entwine his fingers in Draco's or press their lips together. If he got this kind of fire from a simple brush, he was certain anything else would completely undo him. The thought was terrifying.

When they reached the house, Draco turned to him with a small smirk. "Ok, Auror Potter, we are out of danger. Think I can have my face back yet?"

Harry laughed and pulled out his wand. "Oh yeah, here you go." With a flick of his wand, he watched Draco's eyes fade all the way back to a silvery grey, his honey blonde locks lighten back to their normal white blonde, and his rounded edges sharpen back to their fine points. As handsome as Draco had admittedly been under his glamours, Harry had to admit he was actually more partial to Draco like this.

"Thank you." Draco said with a real smile.

"Oh, for that?" Harry said, scuffing his shoe on the front step. "That was no big deal. The glamour would have faded soon anyways."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not the glamour, Potter. Dinner. Getting me out of the house. Surprisingly, I didn't have that terrible of a time."

"Why Draco, that may have been the nicest thing you have ever said to me. In fact, that may be the first nice thing you've ever said to me." Harry teased.

"Yeah, well, don't get too used to it." Draco said with a sigh. "We don't need the savior's head to get any bigger than it already is."

This time, Harry rolled his eyes, then looked up at Draco. The intensity in his silver eyes stole anything Harry had been about to say right out of his mouth. Despite himself, he couldn't help his eyes from dropping to Draco's lips. It was only then that he realized how close they were standing. All Harry would have to do is reach his fingers out a few inches and he would be able to grab Draco's hand. If he just leaned forward a little ways, the way it seemed Draco was starting to, he could…

Harry panicked. "I can't spend Halloween with you." Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he took a half step backwards. "Excuse me?"

"Halloween." Harry said, unable to back out now. "I can't spend it with you. I'm going to a party, so I won't be here. I just thought you should know."

"Well, what gave you the impression I would want to spend it with Saint Potter?" Malfoy drawled. "Just because everyone else in the world wants your attention, doesn't mean I do. Besides, I already have plans for Halloween and you aren't invited."

"Wait," Harry said, suddenly annoyed, "you were planning on leaving? But what about the Dark Collective? People are after you! You can't just-"

"I can do whatever the bloody hell I please!" Malfoy yelled, eyes burning and fists clenched tight at his sides.

"But you could get killed!"

"I don't need you babying me!"

"But-'"

"No." Draco said, shoving Harry in the chest. "I'm staying under your roof, I'm accepting your protection, and I'm following the rules. I am not in prison. If I want to leave, I leave." Malfoy stomped up the remaining steps to the front door. "Thank you again for dinner, Potter. And don't worry, I won't burden you with my presence any longer tonight." And with that, Draco threw open the door, cast one last glare over his shoulder, and slammed the door behind him.

Harry stood there, shell shocked for a moment. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? And just as things had finally started to go so right. One minute they were brushing hands and it looked like Draco might kiss him, the next they were fighting and Harry was having the door slammed in his face. Harry turned around, sat down on the bottom step, and put his head in his hands. Well, at least one thing was consistent in his life: no matter what his sexuality, Harry was completely incapable of talking to men or women. He had no idea what he was going to do to fix this, but he knew he had to find a way to set things right.

AN: Oh Harry, what have you done? Why are you always getting yourself into trouble. Really, that boy needs to learn to stop putting his damn foot in his mouth. I love him, I really do, but he is always sabotaging himself. Especially when it comes to Draco.

Regardless of Harry's ridiculousness, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it. We are just a few chapter away from some really awesome stuff, so 'm super glad you have been sticking with it. Please leave comments to let me know what you liked or didn't like.

This chapter has not yet been graced by the wonderful Indeerah, but I had the incredible help of Abbey. She has been invaluable in correcting my mistakes and making it much easier for you all to read. I will update again with the updates after Indeerah is not insanely busy.

Also, there is a one-shot companion piece coming soon. It isn't a required read, but helps give some background on Draco and Pansy and Blaise. It's a fun humor piece. If you are interested, keep your eyes peeled over the next week. It will be called Malfoy's Don't Drink Tequila. As always, love you all and thanks for reading.