"Vielen Dank, Miss Bulstrode. I've had a most enjoyable evening." Eugene gave Millicent a courtly bow as they stopped in the Entrance Hall upon their return to the castle, and they stood quietly for a moment. Millicent clutched the petite bouquet he had presented her with upon his arrival. "I—" he began.
"Yes?" Millicent looked up at him. His gaze was serene, and his cheeks colored just a bit.
"I feel as if I must confess to you," he said.
"Oh?" Millicent gave him an inquisitive look.
"Everything," said Eugene. "I feel as if I need to tell you everything," he said.
"Please, don't censor yourself, Mr. Slughorn. Believe me when I tell you, that few of my acquaintances ever do. I am quite accustomed to the experience." Millicent suppressed the urge to heave a sigh.
"Alright then. If you know mein onkel, then I am certain that you are aware that the Slughorn family is made up almost entirely of pureblood traditionalists through and through. It is why my parents brokered this outing for us—the Bulstrodes being members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. That makes you decidedly more suitable than most girls. My mother admonished me to guard against impropriety and indecorous behavior towards you. However…" Eugene paused. "Miss Bulstrode, I believe you far too perceptive to fall for the trappings of a prelude to courtship—the flattery, frivolous conversation—is any of that believable? Would you accept empty wooing, simply for the privilege of announcing that you have attained a respectable suitor?"
"I understand. Thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Slughorn." Millicent managed a curt smile, and turned to go. Eugene grabbed her hand.
"Wait, Millicent—I think you misunderstand—I—I'm not very good at this, am I?" Eugene heaved a sigh. "I like you and—oh, sod it all!" He pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers.
Millicent let out a squeak of surprise. His lips were soft and sweet, tasting slightly of the wine they'd shared over dessert. His grip was firm, yet not possessive or confining. After a few seconds, Millicent dispelled her shock and responded ardently. She felt her flesh heat with goosebumps. He abruptly released her.
"Oh, do forgive me! I—I just—I didn't—Millicent, would that this evening did not have to come to a conclusion." He gave her hand a squeeze. "I hope that you will do me the honor again sometime soon. Would it be presumptuous of me to ask your permission to send an owl from time to time?"
"I think I shall look forward to it." Millicent smiled again. He bowed once more and kissed her hand.
"Bis dahin wünsche ich dir eine gute Nacht. Until then, I bid you goodnight."
They exited the cinema and strolled leisurely across Leicester Square and up the street towards Soho. Harry realized that they weren't far from Tottenham Court Road and the café where they had dueled Dolohov and Rowle after Hermione had inadvertently triggered the Taboo curse. He shuddered slightly at the memory, his fingers brushing Draco's.
"Are you alright?" Draco asked. "You look a bit flushed."
"No, I'm fine. Really. What did you think of the film?" Harry asked, effectively changing the subject.
"It was…thought provoking," Draco replied.
"Erm, okay. What makes you say that?"
"The character, Sheriff, I wonder if he decided to return for his friend or for the woman—Beth."
"Does it matter?" Harry asked. "Ultimately, he chose to accept the consequences of his actions."
"It didn't even help. They still executed Lewis in the end."
"I think I would have to disagree with you there. Look at what happened as Lewis was being taken away. He was hysterical, screaming, fighting—then Sheriff called out to him. He reminded him that he was not alone. His whole demeanor changed after that. He went, perhaps not willingly to death, but at least in peace."
"Coffee?" Draco suggested, indicating the café that they approached. Relieved that it was not the same one in which he'd been ambushed the previous summer, Harry nodded and they entered, ordering coffee and dessert.
"It reminds me…" Draco mused, plunging his fork into a slice of cake. "I seem to think of a story from when we were children."
"Yeah?" Harry sipped his coffee. He knew without asking which story Draco was speaking of.
"The Tale of the Three Brothers," Draco said. "Merlin! I don't think I've read it since I was seven or eight. You probably have never heard of it, though."
"Actually, I have," said Harry. "Hermione had a copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard. It belonged to Dumbledore." Draco looked at him oddly. Harry took another sip of his coffee. Draco did the same, turning his mug in his fingers after setting it down once more. He stared at the dark liquid.
"I used to wish that the Resurrection Stone was real." He sighed. "I think I would have used to bring Perseus back."
"Would it have done any good?" Harry asked. "He wouldn't really be back. Remember what happened to Cadmus Peverell?"
"Who?" Draco looked at Harry quizzically.
"What?"
"You said—"
"But you said that the film reminded you of this story. I'm missing the connection. Do you think Sheriff would have wanted to try to bring Lewis back?"
"I think we all want to bring back the ones we love the most, don't you?"
"Oh, most definitely! What I wouldn't give to have Mum and Dad, Sirius and Remus—all of those who were taken—to have them back would be my greatest desire."
"But what you said earlier about Lewis greeting death with peace—it's like the story. 'The youngest brother greeted Death as an old friend, and they departed as equals.'"
"I suppose so." Harry pushed the crumbs on his plate around with his fork. Draco gave him a suspicious look. "What?"
"I—" Draco began, but shook his head. "Nothing. It couldn't be."
Harry shrugged and tossed back the remaining coffee in his cup. He had an inkling that Draco may have given a moment's thought to his invisibility cloak in relation to the story. He hoped that if such was the case, the other wizard would abandon the idea entirely. Although he knew that Luna's father, Xenophilius, believed the Tale of the Three Brothers to be true, Hermione and Ron were the only living wizards other than Harry himself, who knew for sure that the Hallows did indeed exist, and that Harry was the owner of all three—well, given that he had lost the stone in the forest—two of them—though he too had not actually succeeded in uniting them.
They paid their bill and left the café, heading back towards the car. Harry took Draco's hand as they walked. Draco looked down in surprise, and Harry gave it a squeeze.
"It's funny. I think this may be the longest I've ever gone without using magic," Draco said. "I haven't even thought of using my wand."
"Purebloods tend not to realize how simple life can actually be. That's not a condemnation—I only mean that you haven't lived without magic, so it's only natural that you would take for granted that basic activities are pretty harmless, and can actually be enjoyable."
"Like taking a romantic stroll—" he was cut off as Harry stumbled, having collided with another pedestrian travelling in the opposite direction.
"Oh, pardon me, I—" Harry apologized.
The other man gave him a shove.
"Watch where you're going!" he spat. He was joined by three other men who glared at the couple with derision.
"I believe you ran into me," Harry protested indignantly.
"Is that so, faggot?" the man declared, turning to his friends who laughed.
"Let's go, Harry." Draco tugged at Harry's sleeve, his voice tremulous.
"Listen to your little sweetheart. Nice hair, poofter!" The group laughed again. The man reached out and touched Draco's hair. Draco recoiled in horror.
"Oi!" Harry shoved the assailant. The others stopped laughing and moved forward menacingly.
"Think you're bad do ya? Fucking poo pirates!" The man lunged at Harry, throwing his fist.
"Harry!" Draco cried, throwing his arm about his shoulder. Protego!
An inch from making contact with Harry's face, a flame-like flash of light appeared and his assailant let out a cry of pain, grabbing his hand.
"Mickey?" one of his friends rushed forward. "What's happened?"
"He's shot him!" declared another. "I saw the muzzle flash! He fucking shot Mickey!"
"Run!" Harry grabbed Draco's sleeve and they began to sprint down the street, the shouts of the small gang ringing out behind them. They rounded the corner a few blocks up.
"Oi! What's your hurry then?"
Harry and Draco skidded to a stop after rounding another corner, just before bowling over two police officers. Draco looked from the uniformed constables to Harry in panic.
"We were—" Harry began. The officer held up a hand as his radio began to squawk.
"You two know anything about a shooting 'round the way?" He looked at them suspiciously. The radio squawked again.
"…five-nine to six-feet…denim jacket with long blond hair…"
"Right then, how 'bout we turn around. Face the wall."
"…got two detained…" the other officer said into his radio. "Hands behind your back, please."
Draco's heart began to pound painfully.
"Harry!"
"Just relax. Do as they say," Harry replied, struggling to keep his voice calm. He cast a worried glance at Draco, who had gone white, his breathing ragged.
"Where's the gun then?" the officer asked, patting Harry down.
"We didn't have a gun!" Draco exclaimed. "We didn't shoot anyone! Honest!"
"I am arresting you on suspicion of GBH. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."
The officers handcuffed them and Draco began to gasp as his distress morphed into a full panic attack.
"Har—Har-ry!" he rasped as the officers led them towards the police van.
"If someone else finds that gun and uses it before we find it, that's your charge too, mate," said the officer.
He's bluffing. Just breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you.
"Nothing to say? Nothing at all?" asked the other officer.
"I—we—" Draco stuttered.
"No. Nothing." Harry's voice was firm.
"Right then," said the officer. "In you go." They herded them into the police van.
You're okay. In…out…
Draco closed his eyes as the van began to move.
Relashio!
He felt the restrictive cuffs disappear from his wrists. Draco opened his eyes.
"Keep breathing." Harry gave him a pointed look and took his arm. He took a deep breath just as the pressing sensation overtook him.
After several minutes, the van pulled into the police station, and the officer opened the doors.
"Alright then—wha—?" He stared into the back of the empty van in astonishment. His prisoners were gone, leaving only two pairs of handcuffs on the bench inside.
They landed in a darkened corner a few feet from where the SUV was parked. Harry gripped a trembling Draco by the arms.
"Look at me. Look at me!" he commanded, giving him a gentle shake. Draco looked at him. "You're okay. We're safe."
"Harry!" Draco threw his arms around Harry, gripping him tightly.
Harry gently stroked his hair and continued to intone reassurances for a few more seconds. Checking over his shoulder for witnesses, Harry pointed his wand, shrinking the vehicle and summoning it.
"Come on." They disapparated.
Draco continued to cling to Harry when they landed again, this time in the drawing room of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry led him to the settee.
"I'm-I'm sor—sor-ry! I-I'm s-sorry!" Draco hiccoughed. "I'm sorry!"
"Hey, it's okay. It's okay! Really."
"We violated the Statute of Secrecy!" Draco exclaimed. "Won't the Ministry—" Harry scoffed.
"I doubt it. Nobody actually saw anything. They thought we had guns, remember?"
"Oh, right—but what about the police?"
"Hey, stranger things have happened. For all they know, we found a way to open the van doors. If it were that serious, the Aurors would have been here already—well, maybe not, since Number Twelve is unplottable. Still, we're okay; I promise." Harry went to the credenza and poured two glasses of firewhiskey, offering one to Draco. He took it gratefully, tossing back the shot. "Better?"
"I'm getting there." Draco examined his empty glass. "I don't understand what happened. I was frightened that bloke was going to hit you. I was thinking shield charm, but I didn't know if it would actually work. I don't understand what made him think he'd been shot."
"I dunno. I cast a stinging jinx, but…" Harry shrugged. "It seemed odd to me too. It couldn't have been that strong. I wonder if our spells together caused some sort of reaction or unintended force."
"Do you think?"
"Well, I know that being hit by multiple spells can result in severe damage, but—y'know, whatever works." Harry chuckled lightly. He drank his whiskey.
"Was I like that?"
"What?"
"Was I like that? Like that bloke—he and his friends really seemed to hate us."
"Some muggles have ideas like Death Eaters. They dislike Jews, Muslims, Blacks, even Irish. There are some who don't like homosexuals either. A few decades ago, men could go to prison for having sex with one another."
"Really?" Draco looked at him in astonishment. Harry nodded. "Is that why you said we couldn't marry?" he asked.
"UK law doesn't allow same-sex marriage. I had no idea that wasn't the case in the wizarding world."
"Another reason I'd rather be a wizard." Draco pursed his lips and heaved a sigh. "You didn't answer my question, Harry. I was like that bloke, wasn't I?"
"You were." Harry nodded and poured them both another shot of firewhiskey. "Honestly, what did Neville ever do to you?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. He was your friend, and I was jealous." Draco's tone was remorseful. He drank. "I was such an arse." He heaved another sigh, raking his hands through his hair. "I don't even know why I did it."
"Yes, you do," said Harry. "Because you didn't want to be the victim anymore."
Harry took Draco's glass and set it aside, pulling him into his lap. He reached up and brushed a lock of hair behind Draco's ear, trailing his fingertips down his cheek. Draco shuddered.
"That doesn't make it right, Draco. It doesn't make it excusable," Harry said, his voice soft. "However, it makes it understandable. You did what you did in order to survive, in your own way. It would have been so easy for you to succumb to Riddle's way of thinking." He slid his hands down Draco's arms and laced their fingers together. "But there was something there. Something kept you from going completely cold."
"It was you," Draco whispered.
"No. No, it wasn't me—not really. You didn't really know me, or what my inclinations were. It…it was hope."
"Hope. Hope?"
"Yes. We all had to cling to that one fragile thing, or we might never have made it. Trust me; there were days when I wanted to pack it all in. Even at the very end, I—but I knew that so many people were fighting because they believed in me. So many had died for that sliver of hope; it was selfish of me to let them down."
Draco leaned forward and gave Harry a soft kiss.
"I am glad that you lived." He rested his forehead against Harry's. "You are hope."
Harry leaned up and kissed him, sliding his hand up Draco's back to the nape of his neck. He pulled the Slytherin in close. Draco parted his lips and Harry kissed him fervently. He lifted his hips towards him, and Draco responded by rolling his hips downward.
"Mmm!" Harry murmured. "I like the way you taste." he nipped Draco's bottom lip. Tugging the long, blond hair and urging his head back, he traced his tongue down his throat.
"Ahhh!" Draco breathed. Harry could feel the other wizard's arousal growing. He began to unbutton his shirt, and Draco slid from his lap.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked, his voice low and husky as he gazed at Draco through heavily-lidded eyes. Draco fixed him with a tractable gaze as he lowered himself to his knees and placed his hands on Harry's knees, pushing them apart. Harry sat up, taking his hands, and pulling him back to the sofa. "No," he said softly.
"But—" Draco protested.
"Let me—I'd like to—" Harry slid nervously to his knees in front of Draco. He had no idea what he was doing, but he was curious. He also felt obligated to please the other wizard as he had done for him on that glorious morning not so long ago. He gave Draco a tentative smile and awkwardly fumbled with his belt buckle, finally waving a hand and magically removing his trousers. Draco's breath hitched as Harry gently pushed his knees apart.
"You don't have to—" Draco began.
"I'd like to try. You made me feel so amazing." He kissed along Draco's thigh, and the other wizard began to tremble anew. Harry looked up at him. "If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't. I just want to reciprocate." He tentatively slid his hands up Draco's thighs, alternating soft kisses from one to the other.
Draco let out a tremulous sigh. He wanted this desperately. The other relationship had never been equal. Of course, he'd never truly considered it a relationship in the first place. When Draco asserted himself, he'd been punished for it. Through force and manipulation, Draco had always been made to feel small, ineffectual and unworthy of respect and true affection.
He felt Harry's lips at the base of his shaft and let out a gasp, looking down at him.
"I-is this okay?" Harry asked. He was nervous and unsure of himself, but he tried to recall what Draco had done that had made him shudder with delight.
"Y—yes—ahem—yes!" Draco breathed. He curled his hands into fists and stared down at Harry as he licked his member from base to tip, pausing a moment before licking away the jewel of precum there. "Oh my—ohhhhh!"
Harry took Draco in, the fully hard erection an odd sensation in his mouth. He pushed Draco's thighs a little further apart and slowly began to slide his lips down his shaft. Draco moaned again and Harry moved a little faster, hollowing his cheeks. The Slytherin's cock was about the same size as his own. It was long, with an average girth, although in truth, Harry really didn't exactly have much basis for comparison. Six years in the dormitory, showering for Quidditch, and a year on the run with Ron, and he'd never glimpsed anyone else but himself. Harry chanced a look up at Draco.
He bit his lip, his breath coming out in short bursts as he watched his prick disappear between Harry's smooth lips. Never in his life could he have imagined that his wildest dream would come true. Harry Potter had knelt for him. He could barely breathe, and felt as if his heart could beat right out of his chest in this moment.
"Har-ry! Har-ry!" He panted.
Harry took a breath and gripped Draco's hips, taking him in fully as the other wizard had done for him. His eyes watered, Draco's cock nudging the back of his throat.
"Fuck! Salazar and Merlin!" Draco exclaimed. He lifted his hips with a shudder, thrusting into Harry's mouth. "I'm—I'm—oh! Oh! Oh!" He squeezed his eyes shut as he came.
Harry rocked back on his heels, swiping the back of his hand across his lips. He looked up at Draco, who slumped on the sofa, a stricken look on his face.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked.
"I didn't mean to—it was just—"
"Shh." Harry got up and pulled Draco to his feet. He kissed him gently. "Hold on."
Draco gave a yelp of surprise when Harry lifted him as if he were a child. He wrapped his legs about the Gryffindor's waist and Harry carried him up the stairs to the fourth floor where he laid him on the large bed in Sirius' suite. With a word, Harry removed Draco's remaining clothes, along with his own, and lay down, pulling the still-trembling Slytherin to him.
"Do I frighten you?" Harry asked, his voice soft.
"N-no." Draco replied. "I—I'm—" he began.
"What? You can tell me anything, Draco."
"I was going to apologize for being such a prat. It's just that I didn't think that you would actually kneel for me."
"Well, I can't imagine why not. I was curious about what it would be like, besides, I wanted to make you feel good. I wanted the evening to end with a pleasant memory for you." Harry stroked Draco's back. "A relationship is about sharing oneself with the other; being aware of the needs of one's partner as well as the self and attending to them accordingly. It is not total submission to the other's whims; that is what Amortentia creates—emotional slavery. In truth, it is all about balance, where I am weak, you are strong."
"I'm not strong," Draco whispered.
"You are stronger than you realize, Draco. A weaker man would never have survived Lucius, and definitely not Riddle."
"You sound like Dumbledore, but I suppose you have a point." Draco lightly traced circles on Harry's chest. He twitched from the tickling sensation. "Sorry." Draco rested his hand on his chest. "Am I what you bargained for? Have you figured out yet what you want from this?"
Harry placed his hand on top of Draco's and let out a soft sigh.
"No, Draco, you're nothing that I bargained for. I never thought that I would end up with you. I don't know what I came into this relationship looking for, but I do know that fate cannot be denied. If it is to happen, it will happen. You cannot run from it. If that were true, my parents would still be alive. But then, so too might Riddle. If we are fated to be together, then I can accept that. I am willing to learn who you are. I will wait for you to share yourself—your truth—with me. I do know that I definitely want to be here, in this moment with you."
Millicent was surprised to note, upon entering the Great Hall for breakfast, that Eugene was seated at the staff table beside Professor Slughorn. Around the Hall, she noticed clusters of girls giggling and glancing up at the handsome wizard. He smiled, giving her a nod when she entered. Millicent tucked her hair behind her ear and a reserved grin curled her lips as she took her seat at the Slytherin table.
"So?" Astoria asked, eyes bright with interest. "How was it?"
"It was…lovely," she replied, arranging eggs and toast on her plate and pouring a glass of juice.
"He didn't bore you to tears with talk of all the influential people he knows?"
"No, actually, he's quite a good conversationalist."
"Really? So what did you talk about? Are you interested in him? Did he seem interested in you?" Astoria peppered her with questions. Millicent gave her classmate's younger sister a mildly annoyed look.
"Of course, he was 'interested' in Millie, Tori," said Daphne, making air quotes as she settled next to her. "No self-respecting wizard of breeding would actually express his disinterest. It's simply bad manners—well, Zabini and Malfoy honestly couldn't care less about anyone else's feelings, but you know the Slughorns. If it feeds their social standing, they'll kiss a thestral."
"You know, Daphne. There's no need to be such a bitch." Millicent gave her a look of cold disdain. "I can't tell. Are you jealous because Eugene turned out to be amazingly handsome, rather than a boorish pleb with more money than looks? I suppose you think it should have been you that had had dinner with him, because what could he possibly see in someone like me—with my ordinary features and a family name that's no longer truly pureblood? Perhaps you're envious because you've finally come to realize that marrying Seth Flint means you'll never realize your own dreams. I think I should rather be a spinster than stuck in a 'proper' marriage with someone I might never come to love!"
Daphne stared at Millicent in apoplectic shock.
"Of all the nerve!" she declared when she recovered her voice.
"And for the record—Draco Malfoy does have quite the capacity to consider the feelings of others. His Slytherin pride might preclude him from openly expressing that, which means he's quite adept at seeing through the petty mockery the rest of us use to shield our egos from harm. There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self!"
The morning post arrived and an owl came to rest in front of Millicent, dropping a letter.
My Dear Millicent,
If the fire call that Mother and I received last night was accurate, then I am pleased to note that your dinner with young Mr. Slughorn went well. He has requested permission to proceed to courtship, if that is your wish. Please give this request a suitable amount of consideration. Owl us, if you have found that the encounter was objectionable. Mother and I are, as ever, very proud of you for choosing to continue your education. However, I needn't remind you that securing a proper match is just as important to your future.
All my love,
Father
As Millicent thoughtfully folded the letter, a handsome card materialized beside her plate. She picked it up. In neat, unadorned script, the name appeared in purple ink—Mr. E. Slughorn. She looked up to the table once more. Eugene gave her another nod and a smile. She inclined her head, lowering her eyes. She couldn't help but notice that several eyes were upon him as he left the Staff table and crossed the Great Hall in her direction.
"Miss Bulstrode, good morning." He gave a slight bow.
"Good morning, Mr. Slughorn."
"Please do forgive my abruptness, but I shall be departing within the hour, and I hoped that I might have the honour of a constitutional with you before I go."
"Why, I believe I would like that, sir."
He offered his arm and they left the Great Hall followed by wistful stares and Daphne's angry glare.
"Unbelievable!" she declared.
"Well, she rather has a point, Daphne. Draco's not that bad actually. However, your lot is terribly insolent." Astoria poured a cup of tea and gave her sister a disappointed look. "Most of us are just pretending anyway. Our thoughts simply parroting the opinions of others, and after all that we've been through, we still mimic the lives we covet in others—passions and all. I think too, that we are due a change in outlook." Daphne rolled her eyes and began to eat her breakfast.
Millicent and Eugene strolled across the grounds towards the lakeshore.
"I do hope that you rested well," said Eugene.
"Yes, thank you for inquiring," Millicent blushed. "I…received a letter from my father…"
"We had a fire call last night, when I returned to Onkel's residence." Eugene stopped walking and turned to her. "Millicent, I am not one for rash decisions. I must confess that I have inquired after you before our date." He took her hands. "Having spent the evening with you, I believe that my information was correct in most respects. Your father has given consent, but I will only pursue courtship, if you so desire it." He conjured a small book. It was bound in soft leather and featured intricate gilded filigree on each cover. "In my mother's family, when the heir is born, a gift is given. When he chooses a mate, he presents this to her."
Millicent took the small chapbook and examined the beautifully decorated cover.
"Die Serenade des Madrigals. Oh! Is this—" She opened the cover and immediately, a soft melody floated into the air. Millicent let out a gasp. She marveled at the illustration which accompanied the music. "I know this lullaby! Was it your favorite?" Eugene nodded, his cheeks turning pink.
"It is my earliest memory." He smiled. "Will you accept my hand as your suitor, Miss Bulstrode?"
Millicent closed the enchanted music book, clutching it to her chest. Her throat felt dry and she swallowed, finally nodding.
"Ahem…Yes, I will. I would like that very much." She blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. "Yes. I am honored, Mr. Slughorn."
"Now, that pedal is the accelerator. You'll take your foot off the brake, then just lightly press down on it, and the car will move forward." Harry instructed. Draco gave him a skeptical look. "C'mon. Don't be frightened. It's why we're in this wide open space."
Harry and Draco had placed enchantments on a nearby car park to deter muggles, leading them to think that the lot was full. Draco sat in the driver's seat of Harry's Land Rover, nervously gripping the steering wheel. He tentatively lifted his foot off the brake and the car inched forward. He immediately pressed down on it again and they abruptly lurched forward as the car stopped moving.
"It's okay. It'll roll forward a bit because it's in gear, kind of like the hover charm on your broom. Go on, then."
This time, Draco pressed the accelerator and the car lurched forward. He lifted his foot with a gasp.
"Just give it a little pressure," Harry instructed. Draco did as he was directed and was soon driving in circles around the parking lot.
"This is brilliant!" he exclaimed.
They practiced a while longer with the basics, and Harry asked if he wanted to try the street. Draco demurred, and they switched places. They drove around the city with no particular destination, Draco again marveling at the sights. They visited a shopping center where the pureblood wizard was enthralled at the seemingly endless selection of items for sale. They spent more than two hours trying on clothes and shoes, Harry purchasing several outfits for him.
"Muggles have very interesting methods of paying for goods and services," Draco noted as they exited the shop.
"It's called a credit card," Harry explained. "It simply assures the merchant that I have the means to pay for the items. I will receive a statement in the post telling me how much money I have spent, and I write a cheque for that amount to the credit card company."
"What's a cheque?" Draco asked.
"It's sort of like a note or a certificate which gives the bank permission to take funds from my account and pay in cash or place them into the account of the person or entity to whom I am indebted."
"Oh. Sounds complicated."
"At first, yes, but it is much more convenient than carrying gold or bank notes," said Harry.
"Well, you must allow me to repay you for these purchases. I assure you, that I do have the gold."
"I know, but I'm not worried about it. I also have the gold." Harry noticed Draco eyeing a businessman as he passed them. "Like what you see?"
"That ensemble. Is that akin to dress robes?" he asked, indicating the suit.
"Not exactly. It's a suit. It's the sort of thing one wears to the office, or perhaps to dinner—a little more formal than jeans or chinos, but not quite what one would wear to a ball. That would be an evening suit."
"I think I would like that," said Draco.
"A tuxedo?" Harry teased.
"Prat!"
"Well, if the likes of Draco Malfoy desires a suit, then there is only one place to go."
When they exited the Savile Row tailors later, Draco smiled appreciatively.
"Brilliant! So muggles do understand fine haberdashery!" he remarked.
"Of course they do!" Harry rolled his eyes. "Just like in the wizarding world, money talks."
They apparated back to the car to head home.
"What's that?" Draco asked, pointing out of the window as they drove along a few minutes later.
"Oh, looks like a footy match," said Harry.
"Footy?"
"Football." Harry pulled into a nearby parking space at the curb. "Come on."
They hopped out and entered the park where a match between two youth clubs was underway.
"That looks like a quaffle," Draco said.
"It's a football. Each team scores by getting the ball past the keeper and into the netted goal just there. Only the keeper is allowed to touch the ball with his hands," Harry explained just as one team's keeper prevented the opposition from scoring.
"That's it? How do they know the match is over?"
"There's two halves, each forty-five minutes. When they reach full-time, the team with the most goals scored is the winner."
They watched the game in progress, and Harry explained the rules and finer details. Draco was enthralled by the intensity of the players and spectators and soon found himself cheering on one of the teams.
"That was brilliant!" he exclaimed as they exited the park at the end of the match. "Of course, it would have been more interesting if they at least had some bludgers."
Harry snorted, giving his head a shake. They headed home once more, where they changed clothes and ventured out for dinner, arriving at a nearby pizza parlor where they enjoyed a pie while watching yet another football match on the televisions in the restaurant. It was late when they returned, both a bit tipsy from the lager they had consumed celebrating with the excited football fans in the restaurant. Harry and Draco leaned on one another as they climbed the stairs and fell into bed, barely taking the time to disrobe.