41. Misery Business [Friday, June 17th 2005]

There was a very faint whooshing sound around three in the afternoon. Draco, who was trained in picking up these subtle noises by now, finished his notes and then put the papers back into his research folder. There, neat and tidy.

Draco's necklace grew hot against his skin (he didn't really know why Harry thought he had to announce his presence at his own house – Draco had never once attacked him). He heard someone come up the stairs and turned to watch the door, but instead of Harry, a medium-sized chest came floating through.

"I've brought you something!" Harry announced, and the chest landed next to the fireplace, perfectly aligned.

"A late birthday present? Is it more clothes?" Draco asked hopefully, approaching the chest.

Harry stepped in front of it, blocking his path. "Better."

"Better than clothes?" He kissed Harry, draping his arms around him. Then he lifted him up a few inches and turned, so that he wasn't standing in the way anymore. Draco loved surprises!

"It's a boggart."

Draco dropped him back onto his feet.

Usually, Draco loved surprises. He refrained from opening the chest and took a few steps back. Why did Harry sound so excited about a fucking boggart?

"And why did you think I wanted a boggart? Was it something I said? If so, you clearly misunderstood me."

"You will learn to produce a Patronus." Harry said it as if that was the most logical thing in the world. He looked mighty pleased with himself.

"With a boggart?"

"It's a stand-in. Crazy as that sounds, I couldn't get a dementor."

Merlin, why did Draco have to go for somebody that was so impulsive? His life had been a lot less crazy before Harry had decided to squeeze his way into it.

"It won't turn into a dementor if I open that chest."

"It will for me. I'll just stand in front of you the whole time. Here, I'll show you."

Draco grabbed his arm before he could take so much as a step forward. "I don't give a fuck about the Patronus! Get rid of it!"

Harry put his hands up in surrender. "Fine. Didn't know you were such a wimp."

He was clearly trying to rile him up, but Draco wasn't biting this time. He really didn't want him to open that chest. Even if the boggart didn't focus on Draco, facing a dementor wasn't exactly an upgrade. He knew for a fact that there were some very disturbing memories buried somewhere deep inside his subconscious. He didn't need them dug up.

Draco grabbed his folder and fled into the kitchen. He heard Harry say something in Parsel and then there was the sound of his attic opening up. Fine with Draco – it wasn't like he was planning on ever going up there again. That room didn't really hold any pleasant memories either.

Harry joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later and started on their late lunch. They were silent for a few minutes, Harry concentrating on his cooking spells and Draco pretending to be able to read his notes.

"I just thought …," Harry said suddenly, his back still turned. "We could help each other out. You'll try to get rid of some of those damned scars for me and I'll help with your Patronus. Win-win."

Draco shuffled some of his papers noisily, so Harry wouldn't get any funny ideas. Like that he was taking this conversation seriously.

"The way I see it, we'd both get to suffer. Isn't that what normal people call lose-lose?"

"I'm talking long-term."

"Do you expect me to come into contact with dementors in the future?" Draco asked pointedly. It was a little mean, but he really wanted this discussion to come to an end. Permanently.

"You know I don't think that!" Harry turned around now. "Patronuses are good for a lot of things! Let's say there's an emergency. You can't send an owl, that would take ages."

Draco took out his St. Mungo's badge and slapped it onto the kitchen island. "Protean Charm. I'm sure you are familiar as you already enchanted the Snitch."

"That only works if you set it up beforehand. And even then, you need to have it on you to notice. What if we're both in trouble and need to contact somebody else besides each other?"

"There won't be an emergency. Let it go, Potter."

"Face it, Malfoy. You don't want me to teach you because you're scared you won't get the hang of it."

Draco raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "You're one to talk, Potter."

"Me?" Harry crossed his arms too, like that was the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

Draco laughed. "Where do I even begin? How about all the glamours and the Polyjuice and the Cloak? Ready to quit them?"

Harry threw his hands up in frustration. "That's not because I'm afraid. I don't have all day for a trip to Diagon or Mungo's. I'd like to be left alone when I go out, that's all."

"Three jumps, no matter where you go?"

"That's not true," said Harry at once. "I only do three when I Apparate from an unsafe location. And that's completely reasonable given past experiences."

"Then what about this?" Draco dropped to his feet and opened the rightmost kitchen drawer, which contained a few dish-cloths and the hawthorn wand.

Harry's mouth was pressed into a very thin line. "What about it?"

"Why do you keep it here? You have a wand. You don't need this one."

"It's for emergencies. I like to know there is a backup if someone gets in and disarms me."

Draco fixed Harry with a stern look. "Get in how?"

"By breaking in?"

Draco shook his head. "Your wards are insane. Nobody gets in here."

"They could, if they grab me while I Apparate."

"Then you'll shake them off at one of your intermediate stops. That's what they're for, right?"

"You never know, alright? You can't be too prepared."

"You can be paranoid," objected Draco. "Nobody gets in here but you, me, occasionally Samantha and a handful owls. And I really hope you don't expect me to attack you one day." Draco rubbed his lower arm absentmindedly. "But if you do, you certainly shouldn't keep that wand where I can get to it too."

Harry slammed the drawer shut and got started on the pasta dough without another word. Fine – if that was how he wanted to play this, then Draco would play. He grabbed his notes and stomped back into the sitting room. He could hear Harry's frustrated groan all the way upstairs.

Harry seemed to have decided to let it go for the time being. He didn't address the chest again during lunch and left Draco to his research afterwards. Draco suspected that he felt a tiny bit guilty about springing the boggart on him like that, because when the time came to get ready for the evening, he let Draco pick out his clothes – as if he didn't know that Draco would choose the emerald shirt. There was no such thing as being overdressed.

~o~

"Don't you fucking dare, Olli!"

Draco seized Harry's wrist to keep him from knocking on Lauren and Olivia's door.

"Hey, no name calling!"

"I'll call you whatever I want! You're disgusting!"

"What is it?" Harry asked, as if he hadn't just heard his friends yell at each other, even though it had been him who had wanted to go back when they had unwillingly Floo-ed in while Ron and Hermione had been having an argument about dinner.

"They're fighting," Draco said pointedly. "Maybe we should wait until it winds down?"

They couldn't hear what Olivia said but Lauren's, "I'm getting a divorce, I swear!" could probably be heard throughout the whole block.

"That's not a fight," Harry said with a wave of his free hand, which he then used to knock.

"Not it!" Olivia said loudly, but Lauren wasn't having it.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight so you can do that! Get up!"

There were a few seconds during which – by the sound of it – they seemed to wrestle (Draco certainly would place no bets on Olivia) and then the door finally opened. Lauren's ponytail was in disarray. They couldn't see much of Olivia (expect for her butt), because Lauren had thrown her over her shoulder.

"Hey," Harry said, hugging the side of her that wasn't busy holding on to her girlfriend. Then he gave Olivia a pat on the head and went inside.

Draco lingered for a second, unsure how to handle the scene, and then inclined his head slightly and followed Harry hurriedly.

"What the hell?" Harry stood in front of their tiny, round kitchen table, one hand buried in his hair in a rather confused gesture. He turned to Lauren for an explanation.

She dropped Olivia onto the couch and then immediately put both hands on her hips. "Exactly! Who does that? Thank goodness I came home in time."

Olivia propped herself up on her lower arms, completely unimpressed by Lauren and Harry's criticism. "Well, Luna told me –"

Both Lauren and Harry groaned. Harry sat down on one of the chairs. Lauren said, "Well, that fucking explains it."

Draco went over to the table to see what the fuss was. There was a cutting board on the table, on which Olivia had placed, rather neatly, five strings of spaghetti, which she had braided for about half their length. There was about half a pot of spaghetti still standing next to it.

"What's that supposed to be?" Draco asked, turning his head from side to side, searching for the meaning behind it.

Olivia sat up on the couch and tugged at her crumbled clothes. "It's going to be a snack. You cook spaghetti, braid them and then brush some spicy paste on them for flavour –"

"That sounds ridiculous," Lauren snorted. "Why do you need to braid them?"

"– and then you freeze them –"

"Over my dead body!"

"– so you can snack on them later."

"So, why do you have to braid them?" Harry asked.

"They're kind of like a granola bar that way."

Lauren threw her hands up in frustration. "Don't you bloody tell me you actually eat them frozen!"

Olivia rolled her eyes at her. "Don't knock it till you've tried it."

"That's an atrocity! You'd better pray that I don't tell my nonna about this."

"Your nonna loves me," Olivia said, unimpressed.

"Yeah well, because she hasn't heard about this yet. You just can't do this to spaghetti! That's a federal crime in Italy."

"Is it, though?" asked Draco, now eyeing a small bowl of paste with a pastry brush sticking out of it.

"Harry!" Lauren said accusingly, pointing at Draco as if she were telling him to call back a misbehaving pet.

"You know I'm not actually –"

"You'll never convince me – You're Italian looking!" Lauren said with conviction. "And you know how to cook. Tell those two that you can't abuse spaghetti like that."

Harry used the fork from the pot to prod the spaghetti braid. Then he swirled it around the fork, apparently satisfied with his inspection. "I told you my grandmother was from Greece and – FUCK ME, that's hot."

"I couldn't find all of the spices Luna told me to get," Olivia said casually. "I'm not even sure all of them exist. Anyway, I had to improvise."

"No kidding," Harry breathed, fanning his face. "What did you substitute with the chilli?"

"Dragon grass?" Olivia said, and it came out like a question. "Is that a thing? Well, it sounded spicy, so I decided on chilli."

Draco sent a pointed look in Harry's direction, who was too busy fanning his face (with both hands now) to notice. Anybody who had ever paid attention in Potions knew that Dragon grass was a mild, rather minty leave which could be used to temporarily disable a Dragon's fire breath ... and also to cure acid reflux (which didn't sound nearly as impressive).

"Let's go," Harry said, voice breaking slightly, "I need some fresh air."

They took a bus to the cinema, which was almost as bad as taking the underground on Christmas. Harry was pressed tightly against Draco's chest, which he didn't mind, but there was also some strange girl pressed against his back, and that he minded very much. He vowed not to let himself be talked into taking the bus ever again. He would rather walk back, if he absolutely had to.

The girls had picked the movie, which had a totally nondescript title, but was apparently about a hot, rich, married couple living in the suburbs. Oh and also, they were secretly assassins. Draco was relieved to see that the line of waiting movie-goers consisted in equal parts of men and women, which was probably a good sign. Draco also recognised the actors from the covers of some magazines that were always displayed in his Muggle supermarket, so he figured they were probably successful.

"Double date?" the lady at the box office asked, smiling sweetly.

"Yep," Lauren said, sliding some money over the counter just as Harry did the same.

This seemed to confuse the lady for a moment, because she hesitated before handing both of them a pair of tickets. "Oh, I thought you two were a couple." She laughed, her eyes flicking between Lauren and Harry.

Draco guessed that she had paired them by colour. Lauren and Harry were very similar in complexion, while both Olivia and Draco were almost translucent. He wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to find that racist or homophobic, so he decided to go with racist and homophobic.

"Those are the perils of hanging out with the guys," Lauren sighed, slinging an arm around Olivia's waist and kissing her temple softly while maintaining eye contact the whole time.

The lady turned bright red and handed out their change without another word.

~o~

Draco felt exhausted after the movie. He was used to sitting still for hours on end from the hospital, but he definitely needed some time to adjust to watching rapidly moving pictures for two hours straight.

And then there was the noise. He was surprised Harry could stand all those explosions and death. Draco's hand felt cramped from clinging to Harry's the entire time. Maybe he was used to those things by now. Most movies seemed to be somewhat explosion-heavy. Besides, Harry could handle himself in direct attacks. What he really seemed to be afraid of were ambushes, people breaking into his house in the dead of night.

"So," said Draco casually as they were walking Lauren and Olivia home afterwards, trailing some ways behind the girls, who had run ahead to look at something in a shop window. "When were you going to tell me that my house is going to blow up?"

Harry snorted, obviously caught off guard. Draco didn't turn his head, but he could feel the side-eye on him. Harry sounded severe when he said, "It was supposed to be a surprise."

Draco jabbed an elbow into his side and Harry laughed, pushing him away and then reeling him back in by his hand. "Kidding! Why would your house blow up? Are there people out to get you? If so, now would be a great time to mention it."

"This is serious, Potter! Is my kitchen going to blow up? I knew I shouldn't have left that Muggle stove in!"

"I have one too, you know?"

Draco groaned. "So, your house is going to blow up too. Great."

Harry laughed again and squeezed his hand. "It won't blow up. That almost never happens. Except in the movies, of course."

"Almost never? Really, Potter? That's the best you can do?"

"Don't worry. I promise it won't blow up."

Really reassuring.

They kept walking in silence for a few minutes, still holding hands, which made Draco's heart beat faster in excitement. He kept looking over his shoulder nervously, ready to let go at a moment's notice.

"Stop it," Harry mumbled, squeezing his hand. "Nobody will recognise us."

Then he pulled him in by the hand and slung his arm around Draco's waist, squeezing him tightly against his body.

"Potter," Draco muttered pointedly.

But Harry just grinned up at him. "It's not a hug," he said smugly. Then he stood up on tiptoes and pressed his lips against Draco's cheek. "And technically, that wasn't a kiss."

"Gay!" Lauren yelled from somewhere up ahead. Then, before Draco could give Harry a very pointed look, she added, "Come on, we want pizza."

Draco pushed Harry away. His cheeks were getting awfully hot as he dragged Harry along to catch up with the girls.

Harry laughed at him and then squeezed his hand again. "You're so cute when you act all proper, you posh git."

Lauren and Olivia were kissing some way ahead, leaning against a wall, completely unimpressed by all the potential onlookers.

"Gay!" Harry repeated. Lauren just gave him the finger, but Olivia giggled.

When they finally reached the pizza place, it was stuffed to bursting and there was a huge line outside.

"Welp, guess you're out of luck, Lor," Harry said. "We could try that Thai place down at Trafalgar Square instead?"

"I got it," Lauren said. She glanced at the door and then pulled out her mobile phone, punched in some numbers and held it to her face. "Buonasera!"

She said something else in Italian and then looked at them and whispered, "What do you want?" She relayed their order and then put away her phone. "Ten minutes."

"You're allowed to do that?" Harry looked like a whole new world of possibilities had opened up to him.

"I'm not waiting half an hour for a pizza," Lauren said with a grin. "I'm hungry now."

The girls went inside to pick up their pizzas ten minutes later. Lauren was pushing her way through the crowd resolutely, pulling Olivia with her, who kept apologising to every single person they passed. Either Olivia's innocent face or Lauren's muscular physique were working – nobody protested, though several people looked displeased to say the least.

They went down to Trafalgar Square with their pizzas and sat down on the steps to eat. The night was clear and warm and there was a pleasant breeze going. Draco watched Harry stuff his face with four cheese pizza and tried to think of a time when things had ever been as easy as this. Then Harry looked at him and smiled happily, and a warm feeling spread out from Draco's stomach. He doubted it had anything to do with the pizza.

"So," Lauren said in between bites. "You would tell us if you were secretly assassins, right?"

"Lauren!" Olivia said in a scandalised voice. "It's always better not to know these things! You get killed if you know too much."

"Us?" Harry laughed, which must have been a challenge with a mouth as full as his. "What about you two? Lauren, you know about a billion martial arts."

"Four," Lauren corrected, tossing back her long hair and looking very pleased.

"And I'm not entirely sure the whole yoga thing isn't just a cover for Liv's real talents. I'm one hundred percent certain she knows how to manoeuvre a car chase."

Draco thought back to his first (and hopefully last) car ride, which had been the stuff nightmares were made of. Since his mouth was still full, he had to settle for a nod.

"Oh please," Lauren said. "You're the mysterious ones, Harry. We know practically nothing about your past, except that you've got a tragic backstory and went to some elite boarding school – which is probably a spy academy, now that I really think about it. Also, you've got crazy reflexes, that can't be normal. And you're always cold, which is probably because of some kind of nerve damage you suffered during a botched assignment."

Draco swallowed and said "That's not how nerve damage works."

"And you," Lauren said, moving on to Draco, who managed not to flinch at the sudden motion. "Same school, so that's a given, and also a very mysterious past. I'm thinking some kind of Russian spy. That's the reason you don't know anything that's got to do with pop culture or technology. Or even regular slang."

"Russian?" Draco asked, looking down at his pale hands. They were slightly greasy, so he wiped them on a napkin.

"Yeah, I could see it," Lauren said, squinting her eyes at him. "And I think Drago is a Russian name."

"My name's not Drago," Draco protested, sliding his almost empty pizza box over to Harry.

"That's what a spy would say," Olivia quipped, accepting a bite of Lauren's pizza.

"I'm pretty sure they've got television in Russia," Harry said. "And music."

Draco tried to grab Harry's hands, but he couldn't stop him from wiping them on the designer jeans Draco had picked out for him. Draco made an aborted noise that Harry commented with the raise of an eyebrow.

Draco felt the urge to whip out his wand and spell them clean right away, but he couldn't do that, of course. Harry grinned wickedly – because he knew exactly what Draco was thinking right then – and took the last slice of Draco's pizza.

"Spies are probably not allowed to watch TV," Lauren said. "They're too busy training. Also, they're supposed to be detached."

"You seem to know an awful lot about the Russian spy system," Draco said pointedly, raising an eyebrow at her. "Suspicious. And you used your secret bilingualism to get us these pizzas."

"Are you thinking Mafia?" Harry asked, clicking his fingers at him. Draco's pizza was already gone.

Draco, who had no idea what that was, nodded.

"Hey," Lauren said, pointing at Draco with a slice of pizza. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing. You're trying to distract us."

"From ...?" Draco prompted, trying to sound confident.

He straightened his shirt sleeves and then chanced a glance at Harry, keeping his face as calm as possible. If he fucked up, they could always Obliviate the girls, even if Harry wouldn't like it.

"Your weird childhood."

"My childhood wasn't weird," Draco protested. His voice sounded cold, but there was nothing he could do about that if Lauren insisted on being rude.

"He grew up in a Manor," Harry said while wiping his hands on his jeans again.

Draco sent him a stern look, both for the statement and his complete disregard for quality clothing. Well, at least he was steering clear of his shirt.

"What?" Harry said defiantly, "It's true. You had servants and everything. Very formal."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"You call your parents 'Father' and 'Mother'."

Olivia and Lauren had stopped chewing and were both watching Draco with wide eyes, like he had become a whole other person.

"I don't call them anything anymore seeing as they disowned me."

Draco got up from the steps and dragged his sleeves all the way down over his palms, even though he wasn't cold. His hands were shaking slightly, so he turned his back on the others and went down the stairs at a dignified pace. So much for things being easy.

There were a few hushed sentences being spoken behind him and then he heard them gather up their things and follow after him. Harry hooked his arm through Draco's and pulled him closer.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make fun of you. I was just trying to explain."

"That I grew up under a rock?"

"That it's not your fault you don't know about all the things that are obvious to them."

"I don't go around telling people about your childhood," Draco said coldly. Not that he knew all that much about it, apart from that Harry had grown up with his aunt, uncle and dim-witted cousin, and that he had hated it.

"You're right," Harry said earnestly. "I didn't realise it was a touchy subject. Forgive me?"

"I'll think about it," Draco said slowly, which practically meant he had already forgiven him but wasn't ready to tell him yet. Harry could squirm for a while.

The girls caught up with them. They were shooting careful glances his way, but didn't say anything. Harry squeezed his arm from time to time, as if to apologise for making things awkward.

"I slept in a cupboard under the stairs until I turned eleven," Harry announced suddenly. His voice was casual, but he was staring straight ahead so he wouldn't have to look at any of them.

"Why ...?" Olivia said slowly.

"That's weird." Lauren commented, apparently eager to steer the conversation away from Draco. "Did you like that cupboard so much you refused to leave it?"

Harry's arm tensed against Draco's. He was silent for a few paces, clearly regretting having said anything. Draco nudged him with his elbow and Harry glanced at him for a split second.

"My aunt and uncle didn't want to waste a room on me. They only gave me one when our school's headmaster found out about it."

Draco stared at Harry's profile. He had lived in a literal cupboard for over a decade? No wonder he was so small. Draco thought about his own room at the Manor, which had been as big as the whole ground floor of the house he was now living in.

"Did he send child protective services?" Olivia breathed out.

She had turned very pale and her eyes were glued to Harry's hand, where the words 'I must not tell lies' were permanently visible. Draco had always assumed they weren't able to see the scar, because nobody ever mentioned it. It seemed that the Muggles were just too tactful to broach such a delicate topic.

"It wasn't as easy as that," Harry said vaguely. "Let's talk about something else. Lauren, Liv, your turn."

Lauren was working her jaw, like she wanted nothing more than to punch Harry's relatives in the face. Draco shared the feeling, though he had a few choice hexes he would like to try, Azkaban or not.

"Umm ..." Liv said, thinking hard. "I only learned how to swim when I met Lauren. A twenty-year-old girl taking beginners' lessons. It was embarrassing."

"Tiny children kept overtaking her," Lauren chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. She slung an arm around Olivia's shoulder and smiled at her fondly. "It was hilarious. I took a video; I can show you sometime."

"Well, at least you learned," Draco said encouragingly. "You wouldn't believe how many people drown every year. It's not a pretty death."

Harry was silent. Draco exchanged worried glances with the girls.

"Guess that just leaves me," Lauren said, taking a deep breath. "Here goes nothing ... I love penny dreadfuls."

Harry snorted very loudly and probably involuntarily. He finally turned to look at her, which meant Draco could only see the back of his head.

"You don't."

"Yeah, she does."

Olivia was giggling and Harry laughed full out while Lauren acted as if she was fine with all of it. Draco had no idea what was so funny about that. He knew about pennies from the Muggle supermarket, but he didn't know what could make them dreadful. The words sounded vaguely like something to eat.

"Are there even lesbian ones?" Harry said in between laughing and breathing. So probably nothing edible?

Lauren shrugged and said with a straight face, "I like the straight ones."

Harry turned to have another laugh with Draco, who gave him a very confused look. Harry grinned and leaned in to whisper into his ear.

"Think those really cheap, really kitsch Veela romance novels."

Draco grimaced and laughed at the same time. "No way!"

"I find them relaxing!" Lauren cracked her knuckles. "Also, I'm gonna have to kill all of you now."

Harry scoffed. "I'd like to see you try."

"Harry, I've kicked you arse so many times, you better believe I could end you."

Draco couldn't help but giggle, though he managed to rein it in after a second. He hoped nobody had heard that. It was just absurd to think that Lauren would be able to kill The Saviour.

"That was kickboxing!" Harry argued. "We're talking about a fight to the death. There are no rules during those. Maybe you'd be able to off Draco."

"Probably," Draco agreed.

"He got bitchslapped before," Harry elaborated.

"Hey, I already agreed!"

Harry only grinned. "It was a double bitchslap, considering he was slapped because he was being a bitch."

Draco elbowed him in the ribs hard and Harry let go of his arm. "I thought you wanted me to forgive you? You're doing a piss-poor job."

"Are you denying you were being a bitch?"

"I'd prefer not to think back to that moment."

Lauren grinned at them broadly, pulling Olivia closer at the same time. "If that isn't an admission of guilt, I don't know what is."

"Hermione didn't have to slap me," Draco mumbled.

"You got off easy!" Harry laughed.

"Hermione?" Olivia sounded incredulous. "She doesn't look like the violent type!"

"Hermione is ruthless!" Draco disagreed vehemently, thinking back to Rita Skeeter, whom she blackmailed, and that Edgecombe girl, who still made regular trips to St. Mungo's to get those scars treated that Hermione's jinx had caused in fifth year.

"Hermione gets shit done," Harry agreed.

"Don't cross Hermione," Lauren said, sounding impressed. "Got it. On a completely unrelated note, do you wanna see the gym? It's not far."

"Won't it be closed?"

"Yeah, but we've got the keys." Lauren patted her miniature backpack.

~o~

"Maybe I should take up yoga," said Draco contently, staring up at the ceiling.

Lauren poked his arm from the yoga mat to his left. "Hate to break it to you, but you're not doing yoga right now. You're just lying on the floor."

"Don't discourage him, Lor!" Olivia was sitting cross-legged on her instructor's mat at the front of the room, directly in front of the mirrored wall.

"Well, the mats are comfortable."

Lauren sat upright and grinned down at him. "Please, if you like these puny mats, wait 'til you've seen mine." She jumped to her feet, grabbed Draco's arms and pulled him up so forcefully that he stumbled into her.

"Lauren, stop enticing my customers!"

But Lauren ignored her and put a hand around his upper arm, leading him out of the room, up two stairs and down a hall, with Harry and Olivia following after them.

Lauren's room was a little less calming than Olivia's. There were no plants, for one. The colour scheme was a whole lot different, for another. Where Olivia's gym was painted in a soothing mint green, Lauren's was mostly dark red and black, which created a decidedly aggressive atmosphere. Then there were the banners – the black silhouette of a wolf against a red background.

Draco glanced from the banners to Harry and back again, the message clear. Harry just shrugged and grinned crookedly. No wonder he'd ended up here – a plethora of red, a predatory animal for a mascot – he must've felt right at home. There was also some kind of cage at the far end of the gym. Also, the floor felt oddly spongy.

Lauren picked up some kind of miniature mat, which was certainly thicker than the ones Olivia had.

"Why is it so small?" Draco asked. He would never be able to fit his whole body onto that. "That's your impressive mat?"

"No, it's not." She grinned. "The whole floor is my mat. This is a kicking shield. Here, hold it." She handed the shield to him and then showed him where to place his hands. "Alright, now Harry's going to kick it."

Harry groaned. "Do you have any idea how much pizza I had?"

Draco wasn't really on board either. "Are you crazy? His aim is terrible! He's going to kick my head off if he aims for that thing!"

"Hey!" Harry protested, shaking his fist at him in exaggeration. "My feet work just fine!"

Lauren snorted loudly. "He does have a point! You can't throw for your life. Thank God you work with your legs."

"Yeah, Draco," said Harry pointedly, like he was daring him to disagree. "If I can hit a moving football, I can hit that thing while you're holding it still, right?"

Like Draco could argue with that without telling them that Harry had probably never played football in his life. Or maybe he had; Draco didn't know just how popular the sport was. Either way, Draco didn't really have much confidence in Harry's aim.

Harry bounced on the spot, presumably to loosen up.

Draco threw the shield at him, exclaiming, "Try kicking me now!" but Harry snatched it out of the air and threw it back at him in one swift move.

It nailed Draco in the head and he landed flat on his arse. Well, that certainly explained why they had a mat for a floor. They should really get those for Quidditch. Or better yet, just allow cushioning charms on the ground.

"Oh fuck!" Harry leaned down to offer him a hand while the girls laughed. Draco really hoped it wasn't at him.

"Aiming at my legs, were you?"

He took Harry's hand and yanked. Harry landed on his hands and knees and Draco used the moment of surprise to push him over, mostly to save face in front of the girls. Just in case they had been laughing at him. Well, they laughed even more now, which was probably why Harry glared at him.

"You don't want to start this, Malfoy."

"You're not scared, are you Potter?"

It wasn't that Draco particularly wanted to do this here or in front of the girls at all. It was just that he couldn't back down now. The challenge was issued. Whoever backed out lost. Harry's eyes narrowed.

They lunged at each other at the same time. For a split second, Draco had the upper hand, managing to come out on top and grab both of Harry's upper arms. And suddenly it was gone. Harry used his own momentum to turn them around, but then Draco did the same and they took another turn and then another, until Draco's head was spinning dangerously.

Harry was on top and there was no momentum left. He had both of Draco's wrists pinned to the ground, one knee pressed against his chest and a victorious grin on his face. Draco struggled for a second or two and then gave up. There simply was no way he could muster enough strength to overthrow Harry, who was all muscle and determination.

He looked strong and attractive and brilliant and Draco's heart felt full to bursting even as his lungs struggled to function under the pressure. Getting his arse kicked had never felt so good.

"Love you."

The words were barely a whisper and out before Draco could take full control of his traitorous mouth. Harry's eyes widened in surprise and his lips parted slightly, as if he knew that he was supposed to reply but couldn't figure out which words to use. The grip on Draco's wrists slackened.

"I –"

It took less than a second to flip them around and then Draco's forearm was at Harry's throat, stifling his startled yelp. Draco had one glorious moment of triumph before Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously and then Draco was definitely not on top anymore. He couldn't even say how it had happened – one second, he had the upper hand and the next Harry pushed him onto his back with massive strength. He didn't even wait for Draco to surrender and got to his feet at once, glaring at him murderously.

"Yikes." Olivia was looking down at him with a frown and Draco really would've liked to know why. He could've done worse, right? Only her look didn't really seem like pity but criticism.

"Low blow," Lauren agreed, because of fucking course she would take Harry's side.

Whatever his side was at the moment, because Draco certainly didn't know. Was this another Muggle thing he didn't understand? Was there some rule against talking about love in front of other people? But the girls never tried to hide theirs. Was he supposed to let Harry win because of fuck-if-he-knew-what? Well, four could play at this game. Draco glared at Harry in return and got up with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Well, we don't want to keep you," Olivia said quickly.

"I'll walk you home," said Harry, sparing Draco not a single glance, who took that to mean that they would go home separately.

"No need, we can manage." Olivia gave Harry a very pointed look.

"It's the middle of the night," Harry's hero complex protested. "It's over a mile to your flat."

Lauren crossed both arms in front of her chest. "Harry, I've been practicing kickboxing for over ten years. And no offense, but weren't even in the top twenty of my best students."

"Besides, we'll take the bus."

"Go home. We'll just kill the lights and put away Olivia's yoga mats and whatnot."

Meaning they didn't fancy being in their company any longer. Well, the feeling was mutual. If they really wanted to be offended by whatever it was Draco had done – fine by him.

"I'll be off then." Draco didn't say goodbye. He didn't smile at any of them. He just turned around and went with his head held high.

There was some furious whispering the second he crossed the threshold. He really wished he could hex somebody right now. Stupid Statute of Secrecy.

When Draco finally stepped out onto the street, the night didn't seem as mild anymore. He wasn't really sure which way they had come from, but of course that didn't really matter. He just needed to find a dark alley. Now he wondered why he hadn't just Apparated from inside the building. He doubted that the Muggles could watch him from the gym. Besides, they'd seemed quite busy when he'd left.

Draco just picked a direction and walked. Why did he think he wanted a relationship? This one was just a series of problems and miscommunication. Every time Draco thought he was doing alright, another obstacle appeared. And he never seemed to take them in stride. He tripped up every single time.

That was what he got for falling in love with Harry fucking Potter. And for fucking telling him. His parents had been right, at least this once. You should never talk about your feelings. Nothing good came from it.

He realised he'd been walking past alley after alley, all of them suited for his needs, without even registering it. He didn't feel like Apparating, but it wasn't like he had much choice. There was no Floo, it was too far to walk, he'd sooner die than navigate the tube on his own, and he certainly wasn't going to test the Knight Bus and let everybody on it know where he lived.

Well, it looked like Harry's paranoia had rubbed off on him after all. He'd just have to choose an alley and get it over with. But under no circumstances would he do three jumps! Draco slipped into a side alley.

"Malfoy!"

He peeked back around the corner. Harry was running at him, looking like he'd like nothing more than to strangle him with his bare hands. Draco slipped back into his alley, crossed his arms and waited.

"What the fuck was that about?" Harry yelled angrily before Draco even had the chance to quip, 'Done bitching about me?'.

And really, if Muggles thought it bad form to confess love in public, what would they say about screaming at each other in the middle of the night?

"Really? You want to discuss that here?"

Harry glared at him some more. His jaw was working angrily. Draco guessed that he did want to have it out in private, but didn't want to go anywhere with Draco. In the end Harry shook his wand out of his sleeve and cast a Muffliato. Wow, he really didn't want to go home with Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine, enlighten me. What did I do wrong this time?"

"What did you ..." Harry breathed out heavily. His wand was still in his hand, which was quite unsettling. "I can't believe you just asked that."

"Just tell me. Did I embarrass you in front of your friends?"

"You're damn right you did!" Harry was yelling again. "I know that Slytherins like to win, but I didn't expect you to stoop so low."

Draco felt his face slip. "What in the world did I win? I didn't expect you to say it too, you know? But you didn't have to smack me around like that and then send me home alone."

"Say it too?" Harry seemed to have trouble un-gritting his teeth. "Yeah, right. I don't say something like that for fun. Or to win a fight, or whatever. That's just unfair."

Oh. Okay.

"I said it because I felt it, you fucking idiot!" Draco shouted. "But I'll gladly take it back now, if you insist."

"You – what?" Harry's eyes narrowed for a second and then widened considerable. Then he groaned, taking a deep, frustrated breath. His hand was in his hair immediately. "Fucking hell, this is a train wreck."

"Nothing out of the ordinary then," Draco said drily.

"Sometimes I really think we'd work better if we just didn't talk," Harry said, and then he was there, pushing him against the wall with his whole body.

"Are you mad? That's most of the fun!"

Harry didn't reply.

They spent a few moments fighting over who got to press whom against the wall, spinning each other around a good five times until finally Harry stopped trying to take control and kissed him instead, and thus ensued another battle, this time over who got to dominate the kiss (which involved a lot more biting than was strictly necessary).

In the end, Harry let him have the win. And Draco knew the answer to the question that still hung between them unspoken.