Author's Note:Thank you, thank you to Sansa and Scordh for the fabulous beta work. Also, a deeply felt thank you to all of you who read my little story and leave such wonderful reviews. I do wish I were able to keep up with them a bit better. Please know, though, that I appreciate them all.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and those to whom she has licensed her creations, including without limitation Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I make no money from this and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warning:UNDER 18. There's serious slash in this chapter, folks, which has been cut in order to comply with policies on content.

Harry's hair fluttered in the breeze, imaginary fingers tugging at the wayward tufts. His teeth worried his bottom lip, his tongue darting out occasionally. He sat hunched over his book, his warm coat pulled around him. Draco knew by the way his brows furrowed or rose whether Harry had read something intriguing or trite. There was a softness about him when the masks fell away.

Draco thought him beautiful.

Sometimes—on days like this, when the sun was just right, framing life with bucolic haze—he wanted to tell the world that he thought so. And then declare that Harry was his, and his alone.

Harry looked up from his book and stared across the expanse of the grounds and the lake. "You're staring again," he said, his expression bemused.

Draco dropped his gaze. "I am not. I've just noticed that it's rather cold and was checking to see if you had early signs of hypothermia. Your cheeks look awfully flushed."

"Liar. You wanted to come out here because you said it was unseasonably warm for a February."

"Yes, well, it's still cold."

"It's February. It's not supposed to be balmy."

"About that, it's my birthday this week, you know."

"Yeah, Draco. I know."

"I'm going to be sixteen."

"Yes, I know."

"That means I can have sex."

Harry laughed, the sound rich and golden like the sun. "You've already had sex. Loads of it."

"Yes, well now I can have it legally."

"Planning on a romantic tryst with anyone I know?"

Draco leaned in and nibbled Harry's ear, smiling when Harry shuddered. His book fell to the ground. "Someone you know quite well," Draco whispered before giving a final nip.

Harry pulled away. "Careful, someone might have seen."

"What if they did?" Draco asked. The moment was caught in perfection, making it easy to be brave.

Harry ducked his head, the shy turn of it just as alluring as his laugh. "You don't really mean that."

Draco shrugged. "I do right now." 'I wish I did all of the time.'

Harry drew his knees to him. "You don't—look, what you did, what you've done about McLaggen is enough. You don't have to be all girly or anything."

"I'm not being girly and I'll thump you if you say that again."

"You could try it," Harry said, his appraising gaze saying all too clearly that Draco didn't stand a chance against him.

"Shut it, you. But seriously, I should have done something earlier, said something earlier. I . . . I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that." Harry pursed his lips and looked out across the lake.

Draco had seen the same pensive expression on Harry's face often enough in the last few weeks, but hadn't called attention to it. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what words lay behind Harry's pursed lips.

"I forgot to tell you, but Mum's planned some trip to France and I want you to come, too. We can French kiss in France," Draco said with an exaggerated waggle of his brows, hoping to pull Harry from his thoughts.

"This summer? You want to talk about this summer?"

"Er, yeah. Why?"

Harry bit his lip and looked away again.

A familiar sense of dread curled in Draco's stomach. "We don't have to go to France. I mean, I'm sure I can convince her to go somewhere else."

"I'm going to Chile," Harry blurted.

"Oh. I hadn't thought about South America, but I suppose it would be fun to visit Belize and such."

"No. I mean . . . I'm going as one of Professor Snape's research assistants. He's got a grant and he's allowed two assistants."

Draco swallowed, feeling betrayed that Harry had kept this from him. "When did you find out?"

"I haven't yet. He's . . . he's not making a choice until the end of term, but, well he told me I didn't have to worry about where I'd be going this summer. So, I'm sure he'll pick me."

"He'd be a fool not to."

Harry's gaze darted to Draco before looking away again. He was gnawing the middle of his lip, not biting the side like he did when he was reading.

"Sounds like a great opportunity. You might even get a tan." It was so hard to say those words. Draco wanted to tackle Harry to the ground and demand that he go to France with him, but Harry's answering smile made him forget all of that.

"You think so? Really?"

"Course. And it's not, ah, a big deal if we spend the summer apart. We've been . . . we're a part of each other's lives. Always have been. That doesn't stop because you go away for the summer."

Harry lurched forward and kissed Draco hard. "Thank you."

"Were you worried about the summer? Was that why you've been all moody?"

"Partly, yeah. I'm worr—I was worried about this summer. I can't go back there. I'd run away first."

Before Harry could say anything else, Draco cupped the back of his head and pulled him into another kiss, desperate to take away words about running away or going back to the Dursleys. Draco knew they couldn't solve everything with kisses, but any concern he had flew out of his head when Harry nibbled his bottom lip before sucking it hard. Draco could kiss Harry forever and he doubted that even that would be enough.

Harry drew back after a few minutes. "Thanks for that."

Draco grinned.

"Prat. Well what should we talk about now?"

"My birthday."

Harry rolled his eyes. "For the last time, I'm not telling you about your present."

"Not that. The other thing we were talking about."

A soft grin spread across Harry's face. "You'll have to remind me again. I've forgotten."

Draco licked his lips. "Happy to," he said as he leaned in to show Harry exactly what he was talking about.

"So what are you getting Draco for his birthday?" Blaise asked as he and Harry wandered through the small village near Wolsford.

"A few things. Nothing in particular."

"What are they?"

"None of your business, that's what."

"Must be something kinky if you won't share."

Harry reddened. "It's nothing like that. It's just personal."

"Ooh. Personal."

"God, Blaise. Can you not turn everything into a sexual innuendo? Just once?"

"Oh, all right. What are you going to get Ron, then?"

"Dunno. Thought about a jersey for that football team he likes so much. Kind of boring, though. What about you?"

"He gets the cottage weekend after next."

"What for?"

Blaise stopped. "You didn't seriously ask that question."

"I'm not an idiot, Blaise. But everyone's said all along that Hermione won't let him get near her until they're married."

"Maybe the fair lass has changed her mind. I heard she wasn't quite as upset about the knicker touching incident as we'd been led to believe."

Harry laughed. "Ron'll be pleased. But why not give him the cottage after the party? They'll both already be there."

Blaise shot a curious look at Harry, as if he wasn't sure whether—or what—to say. "That's because Draco gets the cottage for the rest of the weekend."

"Oh." Harry had no idea what else to say.

"Figured the two of you might appreciate, uh, personal things in a real room instead of a storage cupboard or the stables. Don't look so scandalized, Potter. I'm not stupid—there's only so many places the two of you could, you know, be together at school. Consider it my bit to help Cupid."

Harry shook his head. "Erm, thanks, I guess."

"Worried? Afraid Draco will have his way with you?"

"Bloody wanker. No, nothing like that. Just . . . it'll be weird, I guess."

What? Doing it on a real bed instead of a floor, or something?"

"No. Just the two of us for the weekend. Just being together. Doing normal stuff."

"I doubt you're going to be playing Snap or Charades while you're there. Though, come to think of it, Charades could get rather interesting."

Harry cuffed Blaise's shoulder. "You're a bloody menace. It'll just be weird, that's all."

"Well if you don't want it, I can always tell Draco that my brother needs it."

Harry blushed. "That's not necessary," he stammered, ignoring Blaise's laugh.

The party drew to a close as a very tipsy Ron carried an equally tipsy Hermione out of the cottage, the last stragglers following them out, egging them on to the heights of knicker touching.

Draco heard them leave, but he wasn't watching. His eyes were on Harry—had been all night. It had been so difficult not to go over, push him against the wall and whisper very naughty things in his ear.

Harry laughed and waved goodbye to Ron. Draco loved hearing Harry laugh. It made him shine as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"I think he's going to get to touch her knickers for real tonight," Draco said.

Harry snorted. "I think he already has."

"You're probably right. They did keep disappearing a lot."

"Have a good birthday party? Sad you had to share it?"

"Ron's a good mate. I don't mind sharing in that respect. And so far it's been an okay party."

"Just okay?"

"Yeah." Draco licked his lips, suddenly feeling nervous. "I think the private one's going to be far more stimulating." At least he hoped so.

Harry laughed. "Do you think of these things before you say them, or do they just tumble out of your mouth? On second thought, don't answer. I don't know which proposition frightens me more."

Draco's hand slipped behind Harry and rested in the small of his back, his fingers rubbing back and forth. "You're going to regret that."

"I am?"

Draco's fingers ventured lower, massaging the top of Harry's bum. "Oh, yes."

"How—how's that, exactly?"

"I think I'll let you figure it out," Draco said with a pat before removing his hand as Blaise wandered over.

"Now remember, we can cover for you until dinner tomorrow night, but you have to be back by then. You have a way back?"

Draco nodded.

"Alright, then. Happy Birthday, Draco and . . . have fun." With that, Blaise sauntered off, shutting the door behind him as he left the cottage.

Draco and Harry stared all around the room for a few moments. For the first time in memory, Draco was unsure of how to proceed. There was something he wanted to try with Harry but . . . he wasn't sure how to go about initiating it or whether Harry would be receptive. He felt a bit raw, a bit exposed, and it scared him.

Harry cleared his throat. "I suppose we should start cleaning up," he said as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Leave it. The cleaners will take care of it on Monday."

Harry nodded. He bit his lip and looked away.

"Want a drink?" Draco asked, wanting one for himself. He hoped it would calm his nerves.

"Um, no. I'm fine, thanks."

Draco shrugged. "Suit yourself. Though I think it'd loosen you up a bit."

"I'm—I'm . . . loose. I mean, I'm not tight—er, tense. I just—for fuck's sake, Draco, stop grinning like that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco said, grinning even more, relieved that Harry was nervous, too.

"Yes you do. You've been doing it all night. Stop it."

Feeling more confident, Draco sauntered forward, a different sort of smile on his face. "But you like it when I smile."

Harry's eyes went wide. He stumbled backward, backing into the wall.

Draco didn't stop moving forward. "Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off of you tonight?"

Harry swallowed. "Yeah. I do."

"Thought you might." Draco covered Harry's body with his own, his hands poised on either side of Harry's head.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry asked, though the way he slouched against the wall with his head cocked to the side said he knew exactly what Draco was doing. And that he wanted it.

"Having some fun."

"What makes you think I want to have that kind of fu—omphf!" Draco let his kiss steal the words from his tongue.

"Knew there was a way to shut you up," Draco said before kissing Harry again.

Draco groaned as Harry's hand cupped his erection and squeezed.

"Knew there was a way to make you groan," Harry said, continuing to squeeze and rub Draco's erection in between kisses.

"Terrible come-back, Potter. Not worthy of that sarcastic tongue of yours—ah, God you're wicked." Draco moaned as Harry rubbed the side of his erection and squeezed the top.

"Can't let you have all the fun. Perhaps we should move this elsewhere. Like the perfectly nice bed in the other room."

"You want to?" Draco squeezed Harry's erection, excitement rushing through him as Harry's eyes glazed.

"Yeah, yeah I want to."

And suddenly Draco was nervous again. "Um, how about my present first, yeah?"

Harry whimpered. "Bed now. Present later."

Draco laughed, hoping it hid his nervousness. "Present now. I told you you'd regret your earlier sarcasm."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're a bastard, you know that?"

"Part of my charm."

"Alright, alright. Just . . . go on, I'll be right there."

Harry stared at the wrapped gift, hoping he hadn't made a foolish mistake. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now . . . he hoped Draco liked it. There was something about giving this gift that made Harry feel more exposed than he'd ever been. There were times he felt naked when Draco stared at him. It was like Draco could see everything about him and know what all of it meant.

"Harry, you coming?"

"Yeah. I'll be right there."

Harry sighed. "Please don't think it's rubbish," he said under his breath. "Or total sap."

"That my present?" Draco asked, his eyes roving over the wrapped box in Harry's hands as Harry entered the bedroom.

"No. It's for someone else whose birthday's today."

"Git."

"Arsehole."

"Enough with the verbal foreplay—hand over the present."

Harry shook his head, but handed over the present nonetheless. "You really are awful, you know that, don't you?"

Draco didn't answer, his focus entirely on the present.

Harry gnawed on his bottom lip as Draco unwrapped the box, opened it, and pulled out the books inside. He examined them, his head tilted in curiosity.

"You got me journals for Physics, Latin, and Literature. Uh, thanks."

"Open them," Harry said, cursing that his voice was far more timid than he would have liked.

Draco looked at him oddly, but did as he was told. He opened the Latin journal and gasped.

"The Adventures of Bernard and Ollie," Draco murmured. He looked up sharply at Harry. "You . . . how did you . . . . You remembered."

"Yeah. I did." Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Erm, I saw them, you know, and remembered that you loved them when . . . well, you know. When we were younger. And I thought you might like them. I couldn't find the others. Just these three. I had the bookbinder make a cover of sorts so that, uh, people wouldn't notice. Not that it matters if they did. I just didn't think you wanted people to see books about two little boys going on grand adventures together."

Draco traced the title with his index finger without a word. Harry began to panic. "If you don't like them, I can take them back and get you something else. It . . . I just thought . . . they're stupid, yeah?"

"No," Draco whispered, pulling the book closer before closing it and setting it aside. "You can't take them back." His fingers trailed over the other two, his expression contemplative.

"I just . . . look, if you don't like them. If--"

"Don't you know anything, Potter? You can't take back presents. That's horribly rude. I suppose I'll have to save you from yourself once again and keep these books. Forever, of course. It would be bad form not to."

And Harry understood, then. His mouth quirked at the sides. "Yes. Of course. How would I survive the gift giving mine field were it not for your guidance?"

Draco sniffed. "You wouldn't." His fingers traced the lines of the Latin cover. "Did you ever wonder what happened to Bernard and Ollie?"

Harry sat on the bed. "Dunno. Grew up, I guess."

"Think they stayed friends?"

"Course. Still had grand adventures."

"Think of one."

"What? An adventure?"

"Yeah. What? Don't look at me like that. It's my birthday. I get what I want."

Harry laughed, assaulted with memories of an eight-year-old Draco making little demands while stamping his small feet.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Er, nothing. Just . . . remembering."

"Remembering what?"

"Adventures. So what do you want, Draco?"

Draco was doing that weird staring thing again. The one that made Harry's insides squirm in a way that was both exciting and scary. The one that made him feel naked while fully clothed. "Um . . ."

"I want an adventure."

"Er . . . okay. Wait—you don't want to dig anything up in the garden, do you?"

Draco shook his head slowly, still staring at Harry. He stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Oh. That kind of . . . . Should I . . .?"

"Yeah, Harry. You should." Draco licked his lips and looked Harry up and down. "Right now, in fact."

Harry's insides squirmed again, followed by a zoom of tingling heat. His hands flew to his shirt buttons, undoing them as fast as he could.

Very large scene cut due to mature content.

"God, that was amazing," Draco said in between deep breaths.

"Yeah, it was. What was that, um, thing I touched?"

Draco opened one eye and stared at Harry. "I think it was my prostate." He waved towards the book. "It talks about it in there."

"Oh."

"Did I touch yours?"

"I . . . I don't think so."

Draco opened both eyes. "We'll have to rectify that. How about after a quick shower? We can take care of that, as well," Draco said, pointing to Harry's erection.

Harry licked his lips and nodded.

"Brilliant. Just brilliant."

Harry couldn't agree more.