February 2002

I sat in bed with the light turned on beside me. It was nearly time for bed. But I had to finish reading Pride and Prejudice. I was on the verge of tears as I approached the end. I had rooted so much for Darcy. I saw so much of myself in him. The happy ending was slowly piecing itself together and I was completely enraptured with it. Which is why when I felt the bed shift I actually jumped and screeched a bit. Harry laughed at this immensely, "God, you're just like Hermione. You two never notice the world around you when you've got your noses in a book."

"Oh, shut up. I am not like that."

"You just screamed because I sat down."

I huffed, "Well, it's really good, okay?"

"Draco, were you crying?"

"No. But I was probably going to if you hadn't interrupted me."

"Were you seriously about to cry over a book?"

"Harry Potter, you clearly have never read a truly meaningful and well written book in your life. If you had, you would know that the best books make you want to weep for ages." He smirked as he crawled under the covers. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my damn book."

He just snickered and flipped open his copy of the Daily Prophet from that day. I finished up the last few pages and couldn't help letting a single tear fall past my smile. I shut the book and held it to my chest. It was a new favorite, without a doubt. I desperately wanted to gush about this book to someone who had read it. I had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione may have been familiar with it and decided to ask her about it the next time we saw each other.

"Are you quite finished?" Harry asked from behind his newspaper.

"Yes, there's no need to be salty about it," I said bitterly as I put the book down on my nightstand. "Now, what is it you'd like to tell me? I can tell you're itching to get it out."

He instantly folded his paper, tossed it on the floor, and turned to me, "So it's February now, and Valentine's is coming up."

"Ah, right."

"So I was thinking we should make plans."

"I don't know, I don't want to make a big deal out of it. It's a silly holiday, really."

"I know, but that's the thing. What I have in mind isn't exactly — traditional."

I frowned, knowing he was up to something, "What is it?"

He looked a bit apprehensive as he spoke, "I want to go on a double date."

I tilted my head, knowing just what was coming, "With who?"

"Ron and Hermione."

"No."

"C'mon, why not?"

"Because Ron hates me and I don't like to be in the company of people who detest me. So forgive me if I'm not excited at the prospect."

"He doesn't hate you. He just hasn't gotten to really know you. And he was nice over the holidays with his family, wasn't he?"

I shrugged, but eventually nodded in agreement. Ron had been pretty decent, aside from a few brash statements. But it was obvious from when he had left with Hermione not long ago that he still held some animosity toward me. "Have they agreed to it?"

"Yes," He said, glancing at the wall for a second.

"You're lying."

"Not technically."

"Tell the whole truth, Harry. You're withholding something. You are a terrible liar."

He sighed and admitted defeat, "Hermione agreed right away but it took Ron some convincing. But he did eventually agree to it. So, like I said, it's technically true."

I groaned, "You see? He doesn't want truthfully want to go along with it."

"Draco, you're the only one saying no at this point. Please? I just want you to get along with them, and I want Ron to warm up to you already. This is probably the best chance to do that," He explained sincerely.

I sighed. Harry looked so concerned, so genuine. He really wanted nothing more than for his friends to love me and vice versa. I didn't know if it was entirely possible for that to happen, but I knew I would be remiss if I didn't at least try. "Alright. We can go on a double date with them on Valentine's Day, under one condition."

"Anything."

"I get to pick wear we go."

"Deal."

"I don't even have a suit." Harry said irritably when I told him on the fourteenth that I had made reservations for us at a swanky restaurant in town. It was the kind of place where Harry's usual hoodie-shirt combination would get him laughed out, especially given that it was a muggle location where his fame was meaningless.

"I know you don't. I bought you one," I said simply as we stood in the bedroom, changing out of our work clothes.

"You what?"

"Bought you a suit."

"You don't even know my measurements."

"You'd be surprised how easy it is to measure you when you're asleep."

"You're insane."

"No, I plan ahead."

"Well can I at least see it?"

"You can certainly put it on." I moved toward our closet and pulled out the heavy hanger with the suit fully assembled upon it and covered in a plastic sheet. He took it from me and looked it through the plastic with a sigh. I grabbed a small box from the bottom of the closet and handed it over as well, "Shoes to match. Go on. Change," I insisted. He shook his head in disbelief but slipped the plastic off and began to put each individual piece on. As he did I changed into my own crisp full black suit. The tie I threw on with it, however, was emerald. I turned to face Harry just as he slipped into his jacket. He sighed and turned to face me. His expression was one of simple hesitation. "Does it look okay? I haven't had to wear anything this nice since Bill and Fleur's wedding. And even that wasn't so tailored."

I cleared my throat and tried to compose myself. The measurements were spot on. It hugged his body without being oppressively tight. His suit was decidedly lighter than mine, a soft shade of gray with a white shirt and red tie. My instinctive response had been a deep desire to tear it right off of him and throw him into bed. But we had plans and I had to resist.

"Are you alright? You look somewhat ill," He asked, his concern showing.

"If you want me to be perfectly honest, I'm trying to squash the urge to fuck you until you can't move, that's how good you look."

His cheeks flushed brilliantly, "Y-you're just saying that."

"Uh, no, I'm actually trying my best to avoid a noticeable hard on."

He couldn't help but glance down and smirk. My efforts were clearly not working very well.

"I would help you out with a quickie, but we literally need to be there in thirty minutes and we have to walk. So let me just help get rid of it another way." His lips curved up maliciously, "Snape. Naked."

I practically gagged, "What the hell, Harry?!"

"Worked though didn't it?"

"Well yeah because it traumatized me."

He just laughed, "Come on, let's go."

I shook my head to clear the horrific image from my mind. We threw on our coats and scarves before heading out into the cold evening. He happened to know where it was, given its relative closeness to the guest entrance of the Ministry. We walked side by side down the street, murmuring here and there about nothing in particular, namely work coming and goings. When we were about halfway there, he reached out and took my hand in his. There was nothing unique to this. It was something we did pretty frequently. What I had not known, however, was that the muggle world has more than a few differences from the wizarding world.

I didn't notice it at first, or at least I didn't connect it all together. A stranger would bump pretty aggressively into one of us as we walked by. London is a busy city, I would reason to myself, they're just in a hurry. Some of these people would mutter something as they walked by, but I couldn't understand it. I noticed that after the fourth time this happened in our walk, Harry tensed and held my hand as tight as he could.

"Harry, you're going to break my hand," I murmured gently. "What's wrong?"

"You don't notice this?"

"What? People bumping into us? It's Valentine's day, everyone's busy getting to where they need to go and going to their loved ones." It made logical sense, but I knew it couldn't be totally true. As I finished my thought, we happened to be walking in front of a man standing outside of an apartment building. He spat at my shoes and shouted, "Fuckin' faggots, why don't ya go jump off the bridge, eh?" The word that was clearly meant to be an insult was one that the others that had bumped into us had said as well, but I had no idea what it meant. Harry let go of my hand. I could practically feel his rage radiating from his body. He turned around to face the man. He looked angrier than I had ever seen him, and that's saying something considering I had once been the one to provoke him on a daily basis.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Harry roared.

"No, no, no, no," I turned to face Harry, making myself a wall between him and the stranger. "Let's go, let's just go."

The man behind me just laughed at us, "As if a lil queen like you could 'urt me."

"Harry, be reasonable, it won't do us any good."

"How fucking dare you?" Harry spat at the man, ignoring my efforts completely.

"Go on, princess, go home like yer boyfriend said." The man taunted.

Harry finally looked at me. His eyes were darker than normal, clouded with rage. He was silently pleading with me to step aside. I slowly shook my head. I knew perfectly well that this stranger was of no consequence and Harry could probably easily beat him into a bloody pulp. But I didn't want to mar this night with violence. "He's not worth it." I murmured softly. Harry turned his gaze back to the aggressor.

"You count yourself lucky that I have enough restraint," He snarled.

"Oh, yeah, I'm real scared of some fuckin' fairy." The man laughed as he shook his head and headed up the stairs of the apartment complex. I put my hand on Harry's shoulder and forced him to turn away from the man. He sighed irritably. "We're going to be late," I reminded him. He seemed to snap out of it. He took my hand again and we carried on. A few minutes of silenced passed before I felt entirely justified in asking, "Care to explain what that was all about?"

Harry glanced my way and I saw he had indeed calmed down dramatically. He let out a deep breath, "Remember when you first called Hermione a mudblood in front of us?"

My face burned with shame, "Yes, what's your point?"

"Remember how furious Ron got? How angry all of us were later when we realized how deep of an insult it was?"

The whole thought of it was making me dreadfully uncomfortable. I hated being reminded of the person I was. But I nodded nonetheless.

"'Faggot' is a muggle insult for gay men." Harry explained tersely.

"I — I don't understand." I could not wrap my brain around the idea that there were such insults for men who loved other men.

"In the wizarding world, being gay is kind of unimportant. Nobody really cares one way or another. Here in the muggle world, it's seen as a terrible thing. Plenty of people would love for us to die because of it."

"What?"

"Is it really so shocking to believe?" He asked, "Hatred is not unique to wizards or muggles. Hatred is a human trait. One that manifests in different ways in different places. It might be safe to be who we are in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, but here in London, in the muggle world, we are less safe. Men have been killed and beaten for it. Do you remember a few years back when there was a bombing in the city?"

"Vaguely. I didn't pay any attention to it, though. I assumed it was another wizard mishap that was made out to be a human error for the sake of the muggles."

"It wasn't. It was a deliberate attack. The pub was a known for attracting a number of gay men, a sort of safe space for them. But no space is totally safe for men like us. Three died. Seventy more were hurt."

I felt nauseous. I felt petrified. It was not unlike a number of horrific attacks the Death Eaters had perpetrated. My father had tortured muggles here and there, to which he had admitted to long ago, but as far as I know he was not one of the many Death Eaters to kill other wizards. But did it really matter? It was hatred nonetheless. My family had been deeply entrenched in hatred. My aunt had killed many families based on a hatred of impure blood and blood traitors. Once I had thought I held the same beliefs, but I only held onto the beliefs that had pushed onto me in my childhood. By now, I had learned to see the truth of the matter. There was no reason to hate people like Hermione simply because she happened to be a muggle whose genes mutated to allow for magic. It was simply idiotic.

"Draco, are you alright?" Harry asked, glancing my way.

I shook my head and stopped walking, letting go of his hand. He turned to face me, resting a hand on my jaw. I felt completely hollowed, gutted. In my mind's eye I saw the many half blood and muggle born wizards dying beside men and women like me. All dying senselessly for something that they could not help to be. I had never given it much thought, but I knew that I couldn't like women if I wanted to. Many times in school I thought it would be easier to just like women. I'd kissed Pansy Parkinson once and it was horrendous. After that she had not left me alone for the rest of the time we were in school, suggesting disgusting activities we could pursue together. It was nothing I could control, no more than I could control the family I came from and my pure blood status.

I was unable to talk through these thoughts. I just stood there, staring into space. Harry's arms wrapped around me. It occurred to me that this was somewhat dangerous. If we were already being insulted for holding hands, I could only imagine how much more dangerous it was for us to hug or, Merlin forbid, kiss.

"It's not safe," My voice trembled as I spoke. I did not wrap my arms around him, even though I desperately needed his physical comfort.

"The whole block could attack us and we'd still be fine. We're two wizards, we can take them all down and obliviate later. I am not going to let their foolish hatred stop me from loving you." He assured me.

I broke down and held him tight in my arms. He was right. Of course he was right. We had nothing to fear. We were lucky. We stayed like this for a few moments. I finally pulled back and kissed his cheek, "I love you." I felt the bravery growing within me. We were safe. We were strong together. There was nothing they could do to us.

"I love you too," He murmured, taking my hand in his again. We had forgotten our gloves at home and both of our hands were like ice now.

"Harry, what time is it?" I asked as we started back down the street.

Harry checked his left wrist where his old watch he'd had most of his life was resting, "Um, well, it's … late."

"Tell me."

"7:15pm."

"Goddammit, our reservation was for seven." I said with a groan.

"If Hermione and Ron are already there we'll be fine."

"I don't trust Ron to be prompt."

"You can trust Hermione to make sure they were both on time," He reminded me.

Sure enough, when we did finally make it to our destination, they informed us that our guests were waiting for us. We left our coats and scarves at the coat check before hurrying to our table. Hermione immediately stood when she saw us coming, and she nudged Ron to do the same.

"Hey, I'm so sorry," Harry immediately said as we approached.

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked, her concern evident on her expression.

"Um, yeah, for the most part. It's — it's not a big deal, why don't we sit and order, we've made you wait long enough."

We all sat down and Ron felt the need to add, "You're bloody right we've waited long enough, I'm starving."

"When are you not starving?" Harry smiled, not at all bothered by Ron's comment.

"Never," Hermione smirked.

Food was ordered, as were drinks, with only a minor mishap on Ron's part. He attempted to order a firewhiskey and got an odd look from the server, who managed to put two and two together and brought him a fireball. When the meals arrived, Ron couldn't help but comment on the smaller portion sizes, "You would think with how much they're charging they could at least serve a proper amount of food."

"That's not really how it works, Ronald," Hermione murmured shyly. She seemed slightly embarrassed by Ron's lack of manners, and I couldn't say I blamed her.

"Why did we come here again anyway?" He asked, tugging at the tie around his neck. He actually didn't look too bad when he cleaned up a bit. He was clean shaved and had somehow managed to find a well-ironed shirt shirt, though he had skipped out on a jacket.

"I chose it," I said simply. I had assumed Harry had told them as much, but when I looked his way he avoided my eyes. He clearly had neglected this bit of information.

"Why? Just to prove how rich and stuck up you are?" Ron sneered.

It didn't take me by surprise, necessarily, but it did hurt my feelings a bit.

"You know, I think I want something else to drink and you're nearly done with your whiskey," Harry said quickly, "Let's head over to the bar, mate."

Ron didn't seem to think anything of it and followed Harry across the room to the fully equipped, glamorous bar.

I sighed and set my elbows on the table, rubbing at my temples.

"I'm sorry about him," Hermione said.

"It's not your fault."

"I tried to tell him how sweet you were with Teddy, how you redeemed yourself. But I don't think he was listening. He's very set in his ways."

"So was I, and yet the former Death Eater was faster to change than the good guy." I couldn't help but be sour. I had actually chosen this particular place because I thought it would provide an opportunity for formality, civility. But I recognized now that he saw this as showing off. Our arriving late probably didn't help my image in his eyes as a snob.

Hermione sighed softly, glancing over toward them at the bar, "If it makes you feel any better, I think Harry's giving him a piece of his mind. I wouldn't look if I were you though. Ron keeps glaring at the back of your head."

"That explains why it feels like my hair's caught fire."

She snorted with laughter.

"A beautiful laugh you've got there, Granger."

"Oh shush, I hate when I laugh like that." She blushed slightly.

I finally realized she had dolled herself up quite a bit for the occasion. Her hair was wavy instead of curly and thrown over one shoulder. "You look really beautiful tonight, Hermione."

She beamed, "Thank you. You're rather dashing yourself. Although, my expectation was pretty high anyway. You always dress nicely."

"How do you think I snagged Harry? Impeccable wardrobe."

"I'm guessing it just drives you mad that he only own five shirts," She smirked.

"Three, actually. And yes, I hate it."

Unbeknownst to either of us, Ron was tensing and becoming jealous at the bar, as Harry would tell me much later. He had seen Hermione and I laughing and smiling and became instantly jealous. I could hear Harry's laugh through the crowd but thought nothing of it at the time. In actuality, he had been assuring Ron that I was as gay as they came and he had nothing to worry about.

"Can I ask you something?" I queried.

"Sure, why not?" She leaned back with her glass of pinot grigio, taking a sip.

"Have you read Pride and Prejudice?"

Her eyes widened and she grinned, forgetting her wine and setting it aside. "Of course I have. You don't mean to say you have too?"

"I just finished it last week."

"And?"

"I won't lie, it's become one of my favorite books now."

"Good, that's the proper response."

I lowered my voice and glanced away, "The ending also — kind of — made me cry."

She giggled, "Oh, I can see it now. I've never met another man who's read that book and enjoyed it. I tried to talk Ron into it, but he couldn't finish the first chapter. He hated it."

"I'm sure it's only because men are told to not like romances. It's not manly enough, isn't that what they all say?"

"Pretty much. So when did you start embracing things that are less than masculine?"

I shrugged, "Recently. I only read it because I've been trying to read 'classic' muggle books. I just wanted to make sure I was as smart as any muggle, smarter given my knowledge of magic and healing. It started before Harry came back into my life, but it's just continued since. I didn't realize Pride and Prejudice was a 'girl' book until I got it. And at that point I didn't really care. It's all silly anyway. I'm gay as hell, who cares if I read romances?"

"I like it. So, what did you think of the Bennet sisters then?"

"I cannot stand Lydia."

"Honestly, nobody can," She rolled her eyes as she took another drink of the wine.

"But you know who I really feel bad for?"

"Jane?" She guessed.

"Mary."

"Oh, the poor girl. She doesn't have any significance. I don't know why Austen bothered to keep her in the story. It's just sad."

"Exactly. I thought the same thing."

Just as we were about to get really in depth on the Bennet family, Harry and Ron rejoined us and we cut our conversation short.

"No, don't mind us, what were you two getting all excited about?" Harry asked, sitting down with a different drink than he had originally ordered. He had switched from an actual drink to a plain beer. I was not very surprised.

"Oh," Hermione smirked, "Pride and Prejudice."

"Let me guess, he didn't tell you he cried over the ending?"

Ron cracked up with a laugh and I noticed he had a refilled glass. He was going to be drunk for most of the night, that much was certain. "Malfoy, crying over that silly book? I don't believe it for a minute."

"Oh, it's true," I confessed proudly. "Harry thought I was crazy too."

"Can't say I blame him." He turned his attention back to his friend, "How is it we both ended up with bookworms?"

Harry shrugged, "I have no idea. But mine wasn't a bookworm when I got him."

"Technically, I was."

"How do you figure?"

"You didn't 'get me' until after I had started up a collection."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Oh, right. If you're going to be technical about it. But I've known you most of your life and the book thing's only recent."

I shrugged and absentmindedly drank my gin and tonic.

"Funny world isn't it? Just a decade ago and you two were at each other's throats."

"You're still at my throat, so I guess not everything changes." I could say it was the alcohol that made me bold, but that would be a lie.

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks with each other before turning their attention to me and Ron. The tension was palpable.

Ron locked eyes with me and took another drink of his whiskey. He frowned but didn't speak, so I took my opportunity again. "I've got nothing against you, mate. I love your family, I understand now my prejudice was unfounded. And I love your friends." I smiled toward Harry and Hermione before turning my attention back to him, "And yet, I can't seem to win you over."

Ron sighed and put his glass down, "Unfounded prejudice, you say."

"I had no right making assumptions about you or your family. I apologize for the rash things I've said to you in our youth," I clarified.

He mulled this over, taking a couple bites of food. Nobody else could. Everyone else at our table waited patiently. My heart was pounding with anxiety.

Ron put down his fork and knife and finally settled on what to say, "How can I believe you actually love him? That you're not just tricking him? He's one of the top aurors. How do I know you're not up to something?"

I glanced at Hermione, wondering why she hadn't told him sooner. Perhaps she had not felt it her place. Harry and Hermione likely both assumed it best he didn't know. "I've been in love with Harry since fifth year. We had … relations in school. It never had anything to do with the war brewing. If you'd like, you can ask my father. I told him I was in love with Harry in the middle of the war, and I'm pretty sure he half considered killing me, or in the very least, torturing me."

"Bullshit," Ron said immediately.

"No, really," Harry chimed in, "His dad is ruddy git about us being together. I wouldn't put it past him to hurt his own son over it."

He mulled this over, never breaking eye contact with me. If he was trying to intimidate me with this, it certainly wasn't going to work. I sat straight as a pin in my seat, keeping the prolonged eye contact with ease. A staring match I could handle with ease. He finally broke and looked away with a long sigh, running his hand through his ginger hair. "I reckon if you had the balls to tell your father in the midst of a war against Harry, you're probably not out to get him."

I nodded, slightly relieved. It wasn't total acceptance yet, but at least he was realizing I wasn't plotting against Harry at all. It was an absurd notion and I desperately wanted to tell him so, but I held my tongue for once in my life.

"Ron, do you think you can try and get along with Draco now?" Hermione asked gently.

He glanced back at me and looked away with a shrug, "I s'pose. I'm not about to go and read silly girl books with him though."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I added with a polite smile. It was a step in the right direction, and that was all I needed in that moment. Harry diverted the topic to something less contentious (work) and pretty quickly the tension dissipated. Ron acted genial enough the rest of the meal, and even managed to laugh at a bad joke I made — although I attributed that more to the fact that he was inebriated than me actually being funny. The night wound down and we eventually found ourselves parting ways. We stood just outside the restaurant, all bundled in our coats again, getting our goodbyes out.

"See you at work tomorrow, mate." Harry and Ron said simultaneously, taking a moment to laugh at each other for it.

"It was nice seeing you again, Draco." Hermione said, leaning against Ron. She had drank her wine a bit fast and was a little wobbly on her feet.

"You as well, Hermione." I acknowledged before glancing at Ron, "You keep an eye on her okay, she'll slip and break an ankle in those heels."

He smiled, "Don't worry, I couldn't take my eyes off her if I wanted to."

Hermione blushed and smiled up at him. The two of them were making eyes at each other and Harry and I took the opportunity to quietly leave them be.

"Well," I said as we walked home, "They're bound to have fun tonight."

Harry cringed, "Don't remind me. They're my best friends. I don't want that image in my head right now, thank you very much."

"Hey, you made me think of Snape naked. That is so much worse."

He laughed, "Oh I did, didn't I? Yeah, that is worse. Fair enough, you win that round."

I meant to respond, and I honestly thought I had, but I was apparently far too focused on trying to put one foot in front of the other.

"Hon, are you alright?" He asked, taking my hand in his. The slightest shifting of my arm made me lose what little balance I had and I tripped over my feet. He stopped me from falling face first into the concrete. He snickered, "You're way drunker than I am. You poor thing."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so drunk. I didn't mean to be."

"Well what did you expect? You had two gin and tonics and they were both pretty strong. I can still smell it on you."

"I'm sorry." I whined pitifully all the way home. We stumbled in through the front door and I leaned against the wall. Harry took my coat off for me and went to hang them in the closet. "I'm sorry." I mumbled again.

"You know, I heard you the first time." He said with a little smile.

"No, I'm sorry I'm drunk because we can't have sex."

"Who said anything about not having sex? I'm still gonna fuck you." He assured me as if he was just agreeing to make breakfast in the morning.

"But sloppy drunk sex isn't as fun."

"Oh I don't believe that for a minute." He moved close to me. His hand closed around my wrist and he pulled me close to him.

"I'm gonna taste like gin." I apologized again.

"Do me a favor?"

"Hm?"

"Just shut up and go with it." He smiled before kissing me hard. I didn't have to be told twice. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, partially just to keep myself balanced. He pressed me up against the wall abruptly, and even in my drunken state I immediately was turned on by this simple action. Between heavy kisses he murmured, "I've been wanting to get you out of this suit all night." Sure enough, he made it so.

Each item came off one by one from my body, until I was laid bare in front of him, my trousers and boxers bunched around my ankles. He dropped to his knees, much to my surprise. I expected him to go down on me right away, but he seemed to think it best to tease me instead. His lips grazed down my navel and kissed across my hip bones. One of his hands caressed my inner thigh and the other slowly took hold of my length at the base. I ran a hand into his hair, as if on instinct. He glanced up at me and smiled. I brushed his hair out of his face for him and returned the playful smirk. He kept his gaze as he slowly dragged his tongue across the head of my cock. All the blood flowed south and I quickly grew hard in his hand. He smirked to himself, "Oh, hello." He kissed the tip and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Why do you have to be such a tease?" I whined.

"Why do you have to be so whiny tonight?" He countered goodnaturedly, his hand slowly massaging along the shaft.

I didn't totally hear his retort, as he had said it at the same time he pleasured me. I only blinked and responded, "Why are you still dressed."

"I was a little preoccupied with wanting to go down on you to care."

"Fair enough,"

"Did you already forget what I said earlier?" He asked as his thumb ran along the slit.

"Uh — probably," I admitted shyly.

"Shut. Up." He looked away just long enough to pull my cock into his mouth.

I tipped my head back, leaning it against the wall as I panted. Apparently, unlike when we had sex when I was sober, I was much louder when intoxicated. My moans echoed off the walls and I vaguely wondered if muggles walking by could hear me. He had only gone down on me a few times in the past, both times he had been slightly hesitant. Whenever he had to do anything new he got anxious. But he was hardly anxious now. It also apparently meant that I didn't last nearly as long as I may have otherwise. I warned him I was close and he slipped his lips off of me, replacing them with his hand. A few seconds later and I climaxed, spilling out onto his hand. I caught my breath as I glanced down at him. "Fuck, it got on your sleeve."

He just laughed as he slowly let go of me, "I really don't care. You do realize we can just scourgify it right?"

"Oh, right." I said stupidly as he stood in front of me again, using that exact spell on his hand quickly. I wriggled out of my pants and kicked off my shoes. "Your turn," I said simply before grabbing at his tie and pulling him against me. Our kisses became so aggressive that we unintentionally stumbled into the kitchen a few feet from us. I pressed him up against the fridge, some of the magnets clattering to the floor beneath us. I could only imagine the cool exterior felt good on his warm skin. I only bothered to loosen his tie and remove his jacket before slipping to my knees. I struggled with his belt. He ended up having to take it off for me. His pants, on the other hand, were easy enough to manage. I was not nearly as well thought out as Harry, despite the fact that I had done this way more times than he had. My inebriation was not helping anything. I did not bother with foreplay, although I did make a point to drag my tongue down him many times before taking him in my mouth. I was greedy, desperate to hear, feel, taste his climax. More than once he had to remind me to take it easy. In my defense, I had warned him the sex would be sloppy, but he ultimately didn't seem to mind.

As I sucked away at him, I gripped onto his thighs for balance and I could feel his muscles tensing as he approached his own orgasm. I did as he had done for me and looked straight up into his eyes. Unlike the darkness from earlier that day, they were bright and alive. It was the eye contact that did him in. He warned me, but I didn't move away. I didn't mind as he came in my mouth. I slowly eased off as he finished and swallowed every last drop, licking my lips with a sly smile as I looked up at him again.

He raised an eyebrow, "Sometimes I really think you couldn't be any more attractive. And then you go and do shit like that."

I stood and pecked his cheek, "Yeah, I know. I try. C'mon, we should go to bed. We both have work in the morning."

He sighed as we walked up the stairs together. He was half naked from the waist down while I was completely nude, neither of us cared. We crawled into bed. The minute our arms were around each other we were asleep.