40. Things you can't control [Sunday, June 5th 2005]

"You know Wood, right?" Captain Leona Robinson fixed Draco with a very serious look as he was checking her vitals one last time before the match against the Caerphilly Catapults.

Draco's eyes stayed on her aura as he answered, quite indifferently. "I know who he is, if that's what you mean."

She huffed in irritation. "That's bloody well not all I mean. Do try to follow, Malfoy. This is serious. You played against his team at Hogwarts. Harry told us. We need to know everything."

Draco rolled his eyes and ended the spell. He would've liked to move on to the next player, but he'd already checked all of them. And they still had a good five minutes until the start of the match. He didn't like going out to his bench that early – people kept staring down at him if he did, for a lack of anything more interesting.

He imitated her irritated huff and finally looked at her properly. She seemed quite jittery, which was unusual for her.

"Shouldn't you ask Potter about him, then? He was on his team, after all."

"I –" Harry began in clear defence as Draco shot him a sidelong glance, but Robinson cut right across him.

"He's useless. Apparently Harry never really watched him play."

"I told you, Wood's completely mad!" Harry said vehemently, coming over so she could see properly how he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "He doesn't care who gets hurt as long as his team wins."

"Maybe you should've napped him from Puddlemere before the Catapults had a chance," Draco said, because that description sounded like every single one of the Falcons.

Robinson pretended like Draco hadn't said anything and instead waved her hand at Harry in clear dismissal. "That's not information, Harry. That's trivia about his style of captainship. Which he doesn't have. He's not even on the first team; he won't get to decide anything. I need to know what he's like as a Keeper. Focus!"

"Relax, Leo," said Keeper Florence Mills. "They'd never let him play already if Stavros hadn't cracked his skull on Friday."

"I know, I know," said Robinson, though it didn't sound as if she did. "He's only trained with them for a few months. And they were definitely counting on Stavros for this match. They really can't afford to fall too far behind. Still!" She shouted the last part, pointing at Draco quite forcefully. "Think! Come on, anything at all will do. Does he have a weak side? Any notable injuries?"

Draco groaned demonstratively. He had nothing, really. But he wasn't going to tell her that whenever Gryffindor had played, his focus had mostly been trained on one particular player, hoping with all his might that he would just get hit by a Bludger or fall from his broom again or maybe, just maybe, be upstaged by another Seeker. It certainly hadn't been a secret that Draco had been a rather enthusiastic supporter of Diggory after that one memorable match in third grade.

"You do know I played Seeker, right?" Draco said to buy some time. "I wasn't exactly focused on finding weak spots in Wood's defences."

"Yeah, yeah," said Robinson, waving her hand again, this time even faster. "But aren't Slytherins always searching for weaknesses in the defences of whoever they meet?"

"That's such a prejudice!" shouted her fellow Beater Easton Haynes from the other end of the room.

"That's literally your job, Easy!" Robinson shouted back, rolling her eyes. Think, Malfoy!"

Draco sighed and tried to think of anything at all. He told her the first thing that came to mind and made a mental note to keep away from her from now on if he could help it. "Fine. I think he was about two percent less focused on his left hoop. But that was over a decade ago, I really hope he worked on that in the meantime."

Robinson made a face that told him that she had been hoping for more. Draco shrugged. "No point looking at me like that. I'm just the Healer, not your strategist."

"Obviously," she said. Then she sighed deeply and got up, clapping her hands to get the others' attention. "Alright, team. Let's smash them!"

There was a great deal of shouted agreement and then the Falcons grabbed their brooms and marched out of the changing room. The last one to leave was Harry, and he turned back just as he reached the door to wink a Draco.

Draco fought back a smile and tried to sound stern as he said, "Don't get smashed!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Harry, and then he was gone too. By the time Draco reached the hallway, they were already mounting their brooms.

The doors opened of their own accord as Bagman's voice boomed through the stadium – "Haynes! Robinson! Mason! Armstrong! Montgomery! Mills! Potter!" – and the Falcons flew in as their names were announced.

Draco followed at a distance, making his way over to his bench at the side of the pitch. The Catapults had already completed their lap of the stadium and were hovering in the air in starting position.

Draco had a silent moment to thank Merlin that Harry wasn't playing for them. Their robes were absolutely hideous – a striped mess of green and scarlet. Not even Harry fucking Potter would be able to pull them off. Though Draco wouldn't mind doing that for him (or whatever he was wearing, really).

Draco searched the Catapults for Oliver Wood and found him easily. Not because he recognised him (if he was being quite honest, Draco couldn't even have said what Wood looked like – which was apparently quite good), but because he was hovering in the Keeper's position.

Draco couldn't even see his face, because Wood was also looking up. Draco followed his line of sight to see what he was looking at. He didn't know why he even bothered – of course Wood was watching Harry. Draco supposed that he had to, as his former Captain.

Well, who knew? Maybe they got lucky and Wood would be too distracted by his former protégé to concentrate on his job. Though it didn't seem likely from what Harry had just told them about him.

Now the Falcons were in position too and the referee entered the field with her broom in hand and two broom-boys trailing behind her, carrying the crate. She kicked it open and released the Snitch first. It shot straight up and was gone in an instant. She pointed her wand at the remaining balls and blew her whistle as they flew upwards.

Lauryn Mason snatched the Quaffle out of the air, shot past the opposing Captain and passed the ball to Flynn Montgomery, who was flying a few feet above her. He was just taking aim at Wood's left hoop when another blow of the whistle interrupted his flow.

None of the players seemed to understand what it meant. Nobody had ever called for a timeout during the very first minute of a game. Nobody had been hurt yet. The referee hadn't even kicked off. There simply was no reason for the interruption.

None if you didn't count the Catapults' Seeker.

"Merlin's beard, I'll be damned!" Bagman's amplified voice rang through the stadium. "He's got the Snitch, ladies and gentlemen! Taylor Lawrence catches the Snitch in under a minute. That must be a new record. The Caerphilly Catapults win 150 – 0."

Draco didn't have to search long to find Lawrence. He was hovering a mere five feet from his starting position, waving the Snitch around like a madman.

The crowd seemed to be divided over how to feel about this development. Some of them were cheering like there was no tomorrow. Others were barracking like they wished that Lawrence wouldn't live to see tomorrow. Some seemed to have no use for their merchandise anymore and began throwing it at the Seeker.

Even Bagman, who Draco was sure got paid a flat rate for every match commentated, no matter its length, sounded decidedly dissatisfied, though he clearly tried to hide it.

The big screens switched from Lawrence to showing Harry instead, who sat frozen on his broom in apparent shock. Draco thought it was pretty rude to display his discomfort so blatantly, though he didn't know why he had expected any better of them.

Draco looked up at the real Harry and found him looking right back, a helpless expression on his face. Draco shook his head, meaning to say that it wasn't that bad. Only that it was.

In the end, Wood didn't save a single goal and neither did Mills. Draco also didn't have to heal a single player, which was definitely a first. None of the Beaters even came anywhere near a Bludger. And just like that, the Falcons dropped from second to fifth place in the standings.

The Falcons had barely touched the ground when Greyson was already down on the pitch, rounding them up. They were standing in a circle so none of their faces were visible, but Greyson was obviously furious. He was flailing his arms around wildly, gesturing into the air repeatedly.

"Who knows," said the Catapults' Healer, whose name escaped Draco's mind, "Maybe you'll get to heal somebody after all. Potter looks like he might try to drown himself in the showers later."

"Who knows," replied Draco coldly, "Maybe you'll be the one in need of healing."

He had half a mind to walk the talk – a pitch side brawl would certainly distract at least a little bit from the Falcons' disastrous defeat – but he did know better than to act like a hot-headed Gryffindor. He decided to keep his job and walk away instead, before he was forced to find out if the Catapults' Healer had just as much restraint as he did.

Draco didn't exactly know where to go – obviously nobody was in need of healing – so he just headed for the changing rooms. He hadn't seen Harry at all before coming to the stadium, so there was no plan for after the match. They usually decided what to do afterwards, depending on how late it was and how severe Harry's injuries were.

Seeing as it was Draco's birthday, he had hoped that he could guilt Harry into cooking something for him (not that it was very hard) and then taking him to see a movie. But now it was only just ten in the morning, which was far too early to even think about dinner. Besides, Harry mainly cooked when he was happy or angry. Draco didn't know what a broody Harry did to cheer up.

Draco leaned against the door leading to the changing rooms and watched as the team went over to where a whole throng of reporters had gathered. Greyson nudged Harry with his elbow several times, which probably meant that he wasn't very forthcoming with his answers. Draco could only imagine the kind of injuries Harry would probably rather endure than that interview.

Draco could relate. He knew from experience that a dozen camera flashes going off in your face were more than disagreeable. Especially when the people taking your picture were going to pair it with headlines such as 'St. Mungo's infiltrated by Death Eater' or 'Potter ruins Falcons' chances at winning the League'.

It took nearly twenty minutes until Harry was finally allowed to leave the scene. He looked even more exhausted than after a six-hour match. He was dragging his broom over the grass and looking all around pathetic.

Harry had almost reached the changing rooms when something green and red came barrelling towards him from behind. For one horrible second Draco thought he was going to attack Harry, but then the bloke jumped from his broom and landed neatly beside Harry, who grabbed him by the collar in one fluid motion.

"Whoa, easy, Potter," said Wood, holding up both hands to show that he was unarmed and dropping his broom in the process. "Merlin, not your day either, is it?"

Harry let go immediately, a sheepish look on his face. "That's an understatement. Sorry about the grabbing."

Wood waved it away with a hand. "At least you'll get to play again next month," he said gloomily.

"Sorry about that too," said Harry, glancing at Draco. It was clear that he just wanted to leave the pitch.

This seemed to alert Wood to Draco's presence. He squinted at Draco like he was expecting to get hexed by him. Admittedly, Draco had drawn his wand, and yes, he had done it to maybe stun him, but that had been when he'd still thought that Wood was a rival player planning to attack Harry.

Draco put his wand away incidentally and gave a curt nod. "Wood."

"Malfoy." Wood was still squinting. Not a nice look on him.

"Pity about your Seeker."

"Yes." Wood turned back to Harry with a look that spoke volumes. Volume one said 'Why did you let him in on the team?'. Volume two was called 'You don't really trust that bastard, right?'.

Draco leaned back against his wall, crossed his arms and settled on watching the rest of the teams. Some of the Falcons were still giving interviews. Most of the Catapults were giving autographs (even though they hadn't even done anything at all except for getting exceptionally lucky).

"Want to grab a butterbeer for old times' sake? You look like you could use a distraction too."

"Sorry, Oliver," said Harry absentmindedly. "I've already got plans. Another time?"

"Sure. I'll pin you down to that." And then he was finally gone.

Harry entered the changing rooms and Draco followed a few steps behind.

Harry waited until the door had fallen shut before he said, "Always fun to explain to some idiot reporter why I bloody well couldn't catch a Snitch that practically flew up Lawrence's sleeve ten seconds after the match started."

"Certainly looked uncomfortable," Draco said casually. "Not in the mood to let Wood 'distract' you?"

Harry rolled his eyes at him, Draco just knew. "For someone so confident, you're pretty insecure. Why do you always assume that everybody's throwing themselves at me? You certainly never realise when people are doing it with you."

"Well, with you they usually are. Wood said that he's going to 'pin you down'."

"That's a figure of speech. Also, Oliver is not gay," Harry said. Draco could tell that it was meant to be a statement, but it definitely lost some of its certainty before the whole sentence was out. To try and salvage it, Harry added, "Surely not. I would've known."

Draco's scepticism must've been obvious, because Harry continued. "I mean, I've never really thought about it. I don't think he ever even dated at Hogwarts. At all. He was definitely married to Quidditch. Obsessive, I tell you."

"Well," said Draco with half a grin. "I'd say you are also bloody attracted to Quidditch, not going to lie."

"I'm not –" Harry began, but the rest of the sentence was left unspoken as one hand went into his hair quite of its own accord. He dropped down on a bench and took off his robes.

Draco leaned against a wall opposite him. "Chang? Ginny? Me?"

"No …" Harry shook his head half-heartedly. "That's just circumstance, right? I spent a lot of time on the pitch, so the probability that I'd get to know somebody there was higher."

"Sure," Draco said sarcastically. "Everybody knows how much time there is to talk about interests and such during a Quidditch game."

"Anyway!" Harry interrupted quite rudely. "Oliver wouldn't 'fraternize with the enemy'."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't Keepers and Seekers usually have very little contact during a match?"

"Do you want me to get involved with Wood?"

There was the sound of opening doors and then voices coming towards them. Harry focused his attention on undoing his shoelaces.

Draco shrugged and kept his voice neutral. "Not my business, is it? Although, speaking as a Healer, I would advise against it. Just imagine the hassle of being involved with an idiot who constantly gets himself beat up at his job."

"I don't know," said Leona Robinson as she threw her robes at the laundry basket the second she came in. "Imagine dating one of those Gringotts' zombies."

Harry's grin seemed a little strained, but then again, none of them was particularly cheerful. "Don't be so narrow-minded. That zombie could be your soulmate!"

The next article of clothing, which was a glove, she threw at Harry instead of the basket. He caught it easily and threw it back at her in one swift motion. It missed her head entirely and hit her fellow Beater Easton Haynes in the chest. He merely glanced in Harry's direction, who instantly tried for an innocent expression.

"Pathetic," said Haynes earnestly.

Robinson used the distraction to throw the second glove at Harry's head. He caught that one too, without even looking, and then simply kept it so that she would have to come over to retrieve it, which was definitely more of a power move than chucking it at completely uninvolved bystanders.

Harry looked a whole lot less impressive when Robinson stomped over to him, all muscle and determination. He jumped to his feet and held his free hand up to keep her at a distance, but she simply grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm onto his back and caught him with both arms around his, so they were pressed against his sides.

"No, wait!" Harry shouted. "You can have it back, you win!"

But Robinson just scoffed and lifted him off his feet, completely unimpressed with his struggling.

Harry seemed to realise that he would not get out of it on his own, so he went in search of allies instead. "Easy! A little help, please?"

"Sure," said Haynes casually. He came over to grab Harry's legs. "Where do you want him, Leo?"

Draco's laughter got a little lost in all the others', but Harry glared at him all the same, if only for a second.

Then Robinson grinned wickedly, tightened her grip around him and said, "Showers."

"Hey!" Harry said in protest, struggling to get free.

Draco thought that he had made a pretty big mistake in asking Haynes for help. Sure, he'd have been a good ally, but now that he was on Robinson's side, there really wasn't any chance of Harry getting out of it.

"Lauryn!"

Mason just laughed louder and shook her head. "I'm definitely not getting wet!"

"Damn you! Phae? Please, I'll introduce you to Gwenog!"

"You're about a year too late," Armstrong said cockily. "That reminds me, she said to give you her best."

They had reached the shower room now. Robinson was trying to open the door with her elbow. Harry was starting to sound desperate. "Guys, come on! I'll let you try the Lightning Blast."

They all just laughed some more. Robinson finally managed to open the door and then they were gone from sight.

Harry started a last-ditch effort and yelled, "Draco?"

Draco remained seated and called back, "Do I look suicidal?"

Haynes laughed and said, "Don't try to make a Slytherin join the losing side. We know better. Hey –!"

And then there was the sound of running water, struggling and several voices yelling all at once.

Draco sighed and said, "I really hope they haven't dropped him on his head. I'd like to get home sooner rather than later."

"Uh," said Keeper Florence Mills, looking up from her bag. "Got someone waiting for you?"

Phaedra Armstrong rolled her eyes, but the rest of the team looked at him expectantly – even Flynn Montgomery, who was the only male player remaining in the locker room.

Draco hesitated, completely caught off-guard. He shot a look over at the shower room, but it didn't seem like they'd be done in the next second or two. So he tried to look confident and said, "It's my birthday."

"And?" prompted Lauryn Mason, twisting a strand of her long, silvery grey hair around one finger.

"And what?"

Montgomery grinned. "You didn't answer the question."

"Because it was irrelevant to what we were talking about!"

"All right, then let's change the topic," said Mills. She pointed at him with one of her Keeper's gloves. "So, who are you celebrating with?"

"Friends," said Draco, who'd had time to think it over.

There was a squeaking noise, like rubber soles on wet floor, and then there was Harry, sopping wet and glaring. "Traitors," he muttered, loud enough so they could hear. "All of you."

He took off his gloves first and stuffed them into his bag. He was already struggling to take off his tight long-sleeved shirt, which was sticking to his body, when Robinson and Haynes re-emerged, soaking wet as well.

Armstrong grinned. "What happened to you two? Did he drown you?"

"Might as well have," said Robinson, who was trying to tame her frizzy hair.

Haynes pulled his shirt away from his chest with a squelch and said, "Don't ask."

"So," said Montgomery. "Malfoy was just going to tell us about his better half."

There was a loud BANG as Harry finally managed to yank his shirt over his head quite suddenly and hit the wall with both fists. He cradled them to his naked chest and glanced at Draco, one eyebrow twitching nervously.

"How did you still manage to injure yourself after all?" Draco said in disbelief, drawing his wand.

Harry held out both hands in front of him so Draco could heal his bloody knuckles, and whispered, "What the hell?"

And the next second Mills sat down next to them, giving Draco a very pointed look. "So? Tell us everything. Name, age, occupation?"

"Don't let them extort you," said Harry with a scowl at his team mates. "They're way too nosey."

"Oh, so there is something to tell?"

"That's not what I said!"

Draco could feel Harry's hand twitch in his and held it tighter to keep him from plunging it into his hair. He turned it over and inspected the palm too, to allay suspicions.

"Uuuuh," said Mason, grinning at Mills happily. "Harry knows about Malfoy's special someone." She turned to Harry and wagged her eyebrows, which, honestly, nobody should ever be caught doing. "Do you tell Malfoy about your girlfriend too?"

"Why would I want to hear about that?" Draco rolled his eyes and let go of Harry's hands. "Well, if nobody's planning on bashing their head in while taking off their shoes, I'll be going now."

"Gotta be honest," said Harry gravely, "I'm thinking about it right now. Won't necessarily be my head, though."

"Fine with me. Just do it after I've gone, will you?" Draco waited to see that Harry was nodding and then got the hell out of there before they could launch any further questions about his private life. It wasn't called that for nothing, Merlin's sake!

~o~

First thing Draco did when he came home was take Aurelius for a walk, even though they'd literally just been outside less than two hours ago. It was always like this – Draco tended to overcompensate for the long stretches of time when he was at the hospital. Besides, it didn't matter if he was gone ten hours or ten minutes – Aurelius always acted like he'd been gone for an eternity.

When he came back to the house half an hour later, Harry's shoes stood in the hallway, arranged as neatly as always. The shower was running, so Draco unleashed Aurelius, took off his own shoes and went upstairs while touching his necklace as a warning. Harry never took it off.

A great wall of steam rolled over Draco as he opened the door. He left it open and tried to fan some of the steam out of the room as he went over to the shower.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing? It's like a sauna in here!"

"I was cold," Harry called over to him, pulling back the shower curtain.

"And you'll be well done in about five minutes," said Draco. He was fairly certain that Harry's skin would be red right now if it were naturally paler.

"Guess you should join me before that happens, then."

Harry grinned at him like he hadn't just lost a match in such spectacular fashion that it would be sure to go down in Quidditch history. Well, maybe it was easier to handle because there was nothing at all that he could have done differently. He grabbed Draco's wrist, pulling him closer. His hand felt unbelievably hot on Draco's bare skin, like he'd absorbed all the heat he could get.

"You must be mad if you think I'm going to get in there with you. I'll boil to death in under a minute."

"Don't be dramatic –"

"I've still got blisters from that one time you forgot to turn the heat down after taking a shower!"

"It didn't blister." Harry rolled his eyes and let the curtain fall closed.

"That so? Enlighten me, Harry, when did you take your Healer's exams?"

Harry laughed. "I don't need a license to tell you that. I've got eyes. You're just exaggerating. As usual. Now come in before your birthday present expires."

"Fine," Draco said and pointed his wand at the shower head, which was only just visible above the curtain.

There was shriek and sudden thump, which could only mean that Harry had jumped away from the stream and into the wall. Draco didn't have time to enjoy it though, because almost at the same moment there was a whoosh and the shower curtain smacked him full in the face, followed closely by a rather large spray of ice-cold water.

He only got a short glimpse at Harry, who stood pressed against the wall, shield shimmering around his body and one hand outstretched in Draco's direction, as if to push the water as far away as possible. Which he had apparently just done. Then the shower curtain, still attached to the rod, came back down from behind Draco, enveloping him in a very wet embrace.

"Ugh," Draco whinged, trying to disentangle himself.

Harry doubled over with laughter. "That's what you get for trying to freeze me to death." He turned the heat up again and dropped his shield.

"No need to go all Violet on me for that," Draco mumbled, pushing the curtain aside as soon as he was free of it.

This time Harry used his hand to splash some more water at him, which really was a little less awful now that it wasn't as cold. Draco still jumped out of the way, nearly slipping on the wet floor.

Harry was still laughing when Draco turned off the water, dried the floor with a quick charm and then seized him around the waist without a warning. He half pulled and half carried him out of the bathroom and into the bed room, finally throwing him onto the bed in a one-eighty.

He only just caught sight of the bed before Harry landed in the midst of what was apparently his entire wardrobe.

Harry put his arms out to both sides and buried himself beneath a heap of hoodies. "Couldn't decide what to wear to the game?"

Draco groaned and pushed some of the clothes off the bed so he could lie down beside Harry. "It's Aurelius. He knows I usually shower after I get back from work, so he lays out something for me to wear."

"Is that the sweater I lent you last Christmas?" Harry was holding it above his head, so Draco plucked it from his hands and then leaned over to kiss him instead.

"I thought this was about sex, not my wardrobe."

"Seems like it's going to be both." Harry laughed and then pulled the soggy top of Draco's scrubs over his head.

~o~

"Just tell me!" Draco rolled onto his side to watch as Harry put on Draco's favourite blue sweater and then rolled up the sleeves a bit.

"You don't need to know where we're going. Just wear this and quit whinging."

Harry pulled some clothes out of the pile on the floor, clearly at random, and threw them at Draco's naked chest. The sweater actually hit him, but the jeans flew right over him and landed on the other side of the bed.

Draco inspected the sweater critically. It was a washed out blue, quite loose, and Draco hadn't worn it in years. He'd certainly never wear it when going out.

"There'd better be food where you're taking me!"

Harry laughed like that was the funniest thing Draco had ever said. "Don't worry. Come on, I don't wanna be late."

"Late? It's barely noon."

"Exactly. Get dressed and then meet me downstairs."

When Draco came downstairs a few minutes later, dressed in his second-best sweater, Harry was already waiting for him in the hallway, holding Aurelius in his arms. They raised their eyebrows at each other.

"What was wrong with the one I picked out for you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's old."

"It looked comfy."

"No wonder Samantha tells you what to wear," said Draco pointedly. "You do realise that Lee is not a lapdog?"

Holding eye contact, Harry pressed a kiss against the top of Aurelius' furry head. "Yep. But we're taking him with us, so you get to carry him."

And before Draco could so much as protest, Harry handed the dog over to him and Draco was left with the choice to either take him or drop him on the floor, which was, of course, no choice at all.

"Great!" said Harry enthusiastically, and he grabbed Draco's arm and twisted.

~o~

"I'm just saying –"

"Yeah, I know."

"– nobody should eat that much at once."

"I know."

"Is it lunch? Is it tea? You have got to decide!"

"Well, we were early. I think Molly just panicked when I owled her that we'd be there three hours sooner than agreed. Hand me that one up there, will you? With the guys who look like Gryffindor and Dumbledore."

Draco reached over Harry's head and handed him the movie he was pointing at. "I'm just saying."

"Yeah. I know. Oh, that's no good, no way I'm sitting through three hours of unwashed men wandering around aimlessly." Harry handed the movie back to him and Draco put it back on the highest shelf.

"I don't know how you managed the soup and the main course and two slices of cake."

"Years of training."

Harry picked up another box, this one on a considerably lower shelf and with an orange fish on the cover. Draco suspected that meant it was for children.

"Where do you put it all?"

"I told you to wear that sweater I picked out for you. You'd have had plenty of room in there for both lunch and cake."

"That's not what I meant," said Draco, patting Harry's stomach. It didn't even jiggle a little bit, which frustrated him more than he was willing to admit. It certainly wasn't fair.

Harry didn't react. He was glaring at a woman who stood in front of the shelf next to theirs, shielding her child's eyes with both hands and giving them a scandalised look.

Draco leaned over to Harry so he could whisper, "What's happening?"

Harry wasn't trying to keep his voice down. "I think this lady has something to say."

"Is it the sweater?" Draco lowered his voice even further.

He was wearing his newest Weasley sweater (green again, but with a silver dragon stitched to the front). He hadn't wanted to keep it on for their trip to the video store, but Harry had assured him that the Muggles knew about the concept of dragons.

"No," Harry took his hand and squeezed. "Don't worry."

It seemed like the woman didn't have anything to say after all. She just sneered at them and then turned on the spot and all but dragged her child out of the video store.

"What in Merlin's name was that? She wasn't one of us, right?"

Draco was used to this behaviour on those occasions when patients made it crystal clear that they didn't want to be treated by a Death Eater. He'd never seen people react to Harry that way, though. Although he wouldn't be surprised if people reacted in a similar fashion if they ever found out about the two of them.

"I'll explain outside. Come on."

Harry glanced at all the shelves they hadn't checked out yet, and then sighed. It was apparent that his enthusiasm had vanished completely. Draco followed him to the counter and watched as he handed the clerk some money for the stack of movies he was holding. They'd been planning to shortlist them, but that had apparently just been cancelled.

"Is it because adults aren't supposed to watch children's movies?" Draco asked as soon as the door closed behind them.

"No." Harry didn't elaborate at once, busying himself with untying Aurelius from the lamppost instead. He led the way around a corner and onto the high street. "It was because you touched me inappropriately. In public."

Draco stopped in his tracks. A man ran into him from behind, excused himself quite inexplicably and went around him. Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him along before there could be any more collisions.

"What did I do?"

Draco couldn't believe it. He was one of the biggest opponents of PDA there was. He still blushed when he thought about the way Harry had just kissed him in front of all his friends. He would never even consider hugging Harry in public. It had taken him several weeks to get used to holding hands. There must have been some Muggle taboo Harry hadn't told him about.

Harry sighed. "It's alright; you did nothing wrong. It was just the combination of you touching me at all and her being a homophobe."

"Muggles have those?" Draco's voice was several shades too loud to count as a whisper.

"Oh boy," said Harry. "Have I got news for you."

"But why? I thought that was a … you know …" Now Draco really did whisper, "… a Pure-blood thing. Securing the bloodline."

"Mostly religion, I think. My aunt and uncle had pretty … firm views on that kind of thing. Adam and Eve being the very first dream couple and everything. And everybody knows that what comes first is always best and nothing ever gets improved over time. Not that perfect, were they? Got kicked out by the big guy himself. Doesn't sound to me like he was their biggest fan after all. But sure, let's strive to be just like them."

Yeah, Harry was salty.

"So maybe we shouldn't …?" Draco said slowly, releasing Harry's hand.

Harry growled and slung his arm around Draco's shoulders, pulling him closer to his side. Then he pressed a kiss to his cheek, stumbling a little into Draco, probably because he had to get on his tiptoes and they were still very much caught in the surge of people.

"It's not all of them, just the backwards ones. And we don't ever bow down to them."

And then Harry pulled him to the side and into a small supermarket, saying in his most determined voice, "I don't wanna talk about it anymore. Let's just celebrate your birthday. Snacks!"

~o~

Draco realised something was wrong roughly three minutes into the movie. It had been fine at first, a safe choice after the tumultuous day they'd had. How could you go wrong with a children's movie?

But then the cheerful, vibrant scene had changed abruptly and suddenly they had a self-sacrificing mother-fish at their hands, and Aurelius was whining and putting his head in Harry's lap, who lunged at the chance to direct all his attention at the dog instead.

He wasn't sure who acted first, but it sure was chaotic.

"I'm not feeling it," said Ron at the same time as Draco exclaimed "I don't think I want to watch a children's movie after all."

The screen went black, and Hermione, remote control in hand, said, "You know, 'Pirates of the Caribbean' is supposed to be really good."

"Heathens! All of you!" Ella was pointing her finger at each of them in turn. "Nemo is a classic. Everyone will still be talking about it in twenty years and then you'll look a proper charlie."

"You've seen it five times already," said Olivia in her sweetest voice, glancing at Harry repeatedly.

Draco didn't know how much she knew, but she had obviously picked up on something. Every time Draco saw her, he felt more and more that he didn't deserve to even breathe the same air as her, much less be her friend. She was just too pure to exist in the same universe as somebody like him.

And that was how they ended up watching a pirate movie, which really was alright with Draco, because there wasn't any weird technology or obscure references the others understood and he didn't. Plus, there was even a blood curse. Draco had been obsessed with those at age six or seven.

In the end, they even took the underground back to Draco's, because it wasn't that far and Draco wasn't sure if they really should Apparate Aurelius thrice in one day. He didn't seem to like it that much.

Nobody looked at them funny on the bus, the night air was mild, and when they walked the last ten minutes to Draco's house, Harry took his hand again. And Draco felt all warm and tingly and content.