"You alright, Potter?"

Harry jumped and swore, spinning on his heel away from the grimy wall he was hiding behind to come face to face with a smirking Malfoy. Even in the shadows of the alley Harry had taken refuge in Malfoy stood out, his blonde hair appearing silver in the moonlight and surrounding him like a halo.

Harry put a hand over his rapidly beating heart. "Malfoy. You scared the crap out of me."

"Huh, all those years of silently stalking you around the halls of Hogwarts paid off then. I am now as stealthy as a niffler when Potter-hunting."

Harry chuckled, relaxing his shoulders and falling back to lean against the wall. "Tiger."

"What?"

"It's 'as stealthy as a tiger'," Harry clarified, before frowning briefly. "Or lion. Or panther. I can't remember which. Some sort of big cat." He shrugged. "I don't know where you got niffler from."

Malfoy was shaking his head but he was smiling, "Ah, but those are all big cats, and no self-respecting Slytherin would compare themselves to something so closely associated with their rival house."

Harry snorted, "Either way, you're usually as stealthy as a Hungarian Horntail: loud, overdramatic, and hard to ignore, leaving a trail of chaos in your wake."

"If that's true then you need new glasses because I just managed to get the jump on you."

"You did not," Harry shot back, refusing to admit it even though they both knew it was true. "I was just pretending to be surprised so as to not damage your huge ego."

"It'd take more than that to damage my huge ego, Potter." Malfoy said it in a way that almost sounded like an innuendo, but Harry couldn't for the life of him work out what it was.

Harry smiled, watching as the lamplight flickered over Malfoy's face when he leaned back slightly and finding a smile there to match his own. He should probably drag Malfoy further into the alley if they were going to continue talking, which Harry found he wanted to do, because if one of his fans saw Malfoy talking to thin air they could find Harry. He didn't, but only because he thought it'd look suspicious to anyone watching them, and the papers already had enough to gossip about without seeing Harry Potter pulling Draco Malfoy into a small, shadowed alley. He did not need Witch Weekly chronicling their relationship and predicting their future, complete with clandestine photographs. Plus, he and Malfoy weren't close enough that Harry could just reach out and pull him to him. Not yet.

They didn't awkwardly avoid each other in public anymore, though Harry wasn't sure Malfoy had even noticed him those previous times. If they saw one another, they would nod or smile or occasionally, if one of them was feeling especially friendly, wave. Their conversations were sparse; probably the longest and most profound conversation they'd had was when Harry sidled up to Malfoy outside Quality Quidditch Supplies and talked about the features of the new Fireblaze Broomstick. It was difficult to talk about anything truly meaningful or revealing when they were both always with people, Harry with the Weasleys or Hermione or Ron – who always glared at Malfoy and muttered insults at him when they spotted him – and Malfoy with his parents or his friends from school. Every time Harry went to Diagon Alley his eyes were drawn to the little street he knew Malfoy's shop was down, and more than once he'd considered just popping in to chat. Or, more likely, go in and pretend to buy something just so he could spy on Malfoy, which was his usual style.

He'd always chickened out though, knowing he had no excuse to go there and that only going to see Malfoy was creepy.

But it was easy to slip into this role with Malfoy, the one where they parried back and forth, trading sarcastic comments and insults that had no heat to them anymore and did no damage. It was comfortable, like stripping out your work robes at the end of the day into your pyjamas and snuggling in an armchair with some hot chocolate and a blanket: familiar, simple, calming, and fun.

Malfoy held out a paper cup to him and Harry took it sceptically, feeling the heat warm his hands and smelling the unmistakable scent of chocolate. It was like Malfoy had read his mind.

"Er, what is this?"

"Hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows, with just a hint of caramel drizzled on top."

Harry licked his lips unconsciously. It was his favourite. It was cruel of Malfoy to dangle it in front of him when Harry couldn't keep it. He wondered what Malfoy would do if Harry drank it before he could take it back.

"As much as I love being your servant, Malfoy, why am I holding your drink?"

"It's not mine. I have a perfectly good cup of tea here, thanks," he said, raising his own paper cup before taking a sip.

"So whose is this?" Harry looked around, searching for any sign of one of Malfoy's friends.

"Yours."

Harry stared at him.

"It's alright, I didn't poison it," Malfoy said. "I wouldn't be so obvious. Poison in food and drink is easily detectable. If I wanted to kill you, I'd ambush you when you were chasing a suspect – hopefully through a crowd to avoid recognition – and hit you with an untraceable dark curse. Much quicker. You are wise to be wary though."

Harry stared some more and Malfoy sighed.

"I could see you crouching here like a garden gnome avoiding a kneazle from across the street, so thought I'd bring you a drink so you at least weren't a thirsty garden gnome."

Harry tightened his grip on the beverage, warmth blooming in his chest he suspected had nothing to do with the heat of the hot chocolate.

"Thanks, Malfoy," he said, meaning it and not just because for July the night was unusually cold. Malfoy had thought of him.

They sipped their drinks in silence for a moment before Malfoy nodded behind Harry, "Reporters again?"

"No, not this time," Harry said conversationally, peeking his head round the wall very quickly to see if the crowd had eased off. It hadn't, there was still a swarm of cheering, shouting, occasionally crying manic witches and wizards surging through the main street of Hogsmeade, congregating outside The Three Broomsticks and The Hog's Head. Harry flinched when he saw one man shove another out of the way to get a better view and a fistfight broke out. "Me and some of my friends went to The Hog's Head for drinks to celebrate my birthday." Harry turned back to look at Malfoy uncertainly. "Um, you knew it was my birthday?"

Malfoy gave him a disbelieving look that showed just how stupid he thought that question was. "Potter. The whole of Wizarding Britain knows it's your birthday. The Prophet has been reminding everyone it was coming up since Christmas."

"Er, right. Well, we went there because we all wanted a night out, somewhere we wouldn't be bothered, and nobody ever goes to The Hog's Head because-"

"Because it's a depressing and unhygienic cesspool of a pub where criminals frequent and the butterbeer tastes like Filch's armpit sweat and a cupboard full of expired potion's ingredients mixed together?"

"I was going to say quiet, but that's gross. Don't knock it until you've tried it though; the company isn't bad if you go at certain times and you get used to the taste."

"Oh, I have tried it. I'm banned from The Three Broomsticks and there's not another pub in Hogsmeade so if I want a drink I have to be prepared to disinfect my robes."

"How did you get banned from The Three Broomsticks?" Harry asked incredulously. "I've never heard of anyone getting banned. Not even the twins after they set off four dungbombs and spiked the drinks with liquidised puking pastilles."

"I don't know if you remember, Potter, but 16-year-old me was a little liberal with the imperius curse, and ironically the brother of the man I helped kill is more forgiving than Madame Rosmerta."

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense," Harry said awkwardly. He ploughed on, worried if they dwelled on that too long it would turn the conversation sour. "Anyway, it turns out one of the patrons was a member of my," Harry's face twisted up into a pained expression. He hated saying the words normally but saying them in front of Malfoy would be torturous; he could only imagine what the man's expression would be. "Fan club. Apparently, they've been staking out various restaurants and pubs all over Britain in the hopes they'd find the location of my celebration, and once this one hit the jackpot he blabbed to all his friends. And now," Harry jerked his thumb over his shoulder just as an explosion sounded behind them. Harry hoped it was a firework and that curses hadn't started flying. "Chaos."

"I'm sorry, did you just say fan club?"

"Really?" Harry said flatly. "That's what you focus on? Not the stalking or mass hysteria or increasing chance of trouble…you know what, forget I said anything. I know you thrive off all that. What was I thinking."

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm thinking I want to join your fan club. How do I sign up? Is it like a newsletter or something?"

Harry threw up his hands. "I don't know, Malfoy. It's not like I encourage them."

Harry was a little worried Malfoy wasn't pulling his leg and was being serious. His eyes were alight with something Harry didn't want to put a name too – something between glee, scheming, and mischief.

Malfoy dragged himself out of whatever rabbit hole his thoughts had fallen into and scanned the area before focusing on Harry again.

"What happened to the rest of your little crew?"

"They scattered," Harry explained, taking another sip of his drink.

"They abandoned you?" Malfoy said, aghast. Harry didn't know whether he should be annoyed Malfoy thought so little of Harry's friends or pleased that he sounded so offended on Harry's behalf.

"No. They'd never do that." Harry said hurriedly, before Malfoy could start lecturing him on betrayals and the bonds of friendship. "The night was winding down anyway and we decided that if we split up, the less chance they had of finding me and causing a full blown stampede that would end up with multiple people taking a trip to St. Mungo's. A tactical retreat."

"Ah, that famous Gryffindor spirit," Malfoy said. Harry nodded, thinking Malfoy was complimenting them. "Always so self-sacrificing, separating so one of the pride can survive when in reality they're stronger together. Now, they're being led around Hogsmeade like lions to the slaughter."

"It's lambs-" Malfoy gave him a grin that was all teeth and Harry realised that this time Malfoy hadn't mixed up his idioms; he knew exactly what he was saying. "Never mind."

"Why are you by yourself? Wouldn't it be better if the Mighty Chosen One had a bodyguard?"

"Everyone else was paired off," Harry said, shrugging. "They were heading home so stuck with their spouses."

"So what's probably happened is Thomas and Finnegan are fucking behind Zonko's, Weasley's living out his greatest fantasy and licking chocolate sauce off Granger in Honeyduke's cellar, Longbottom is weeping over plants in the forest and Lovegood is chatting to the ghosts in The Shrieking Shack. Or maybe it's Thomas and Finnegan fucking in the Shrieking Shack, they seem like the type of people who are into that kinky shit."

Harry couldn't keep the horror off his face at the nightmarish mental images that conjured up. Malfoy took one look at him and promptly burst out laughing, almost dropping his cup. Harry would've hushed him, fearing detection, but he was enraptured by the way Malfoy's eyes lit up and crinkled at the corners, and the way his laughter echoed around them like a bell. It stirred something in Harry that he didn't want to explore and made him feel lighter.

Malfoy quietened down, still chuckling when he glanced directly at Harry's face.

"Is Girl-Weasley not around to back you up?" Malfoy asked, subtly running his sleeve over his eyes to wipe away the tears of laughter that had gathered there.

"No, Ginny couldn't make it because of work," Harry said, sadly. He was pleased for Ginny, really he was, because she was doing what she loved with people she idolised. She deserved all the happiness and joy in the world after the horrors she faced during the war, but a part of him was bitter that he never saw her now. Their schedules conflicted and her training schedule was so intense she often didn't arrive home until late or chose to stay with her teammates because she was too tired to travel. When they were together it was great; they still had the same passion they did in school, but it had matured, and the two of them were now simmering in a more steady and reserved love. They were no longer kissing like it was the last time or ripping each other's clothes off whenever and wherever they could, they'd progressed into the next stage of simply enjoying being with each other, where they could do nothing together and be perfectly happy. At least, that's what Hermione told him when he'd confessed he feared they were losing their spark. She wasn't wrong, Harry did enjoy his quiet time with Ginny but those moments were increasingly rare, and he found himself wanting to get up and do things instead when Ginny was perfectly content to sit in his arms and listen to the wireless.

Malfoy seemed to sense Harry's change in mood and stepped closer to him, clapping him on the shoulder with one hand and looking seriously into his eyes. "That's alright. I'll protect you, Potter."

Harry barked out a surprised laugh. "You? You're going to protect me?"

Harry laughed again at Malfoy's indignant expression and the way he drew himself up, a pout on his lips. "And why is that so funny?"

"Malfoy, you got bested by a bloody Hippogriff."

Malfoy flung out his arm to point at Harry dramatically, his finger centimetres from Harry's face.

"That stupid bird nearly killed me!"

"It did not nearly kill you-"

"Those things have lethally sharp talons that can slice through human skin like a knife through butter! And their beaks! I saw that thing eat a ferret whole."

Harry thought better than to bring up the ferret incident in fourth year. "Well, they are predators-"

"Yes, and poor, innocent blonde wizards are their prey! I still have the scars!" Malfoy yanked up his sleeve and thrust it in Harry's face.

Harry eyed it curiously. "…Where?"

Malfoy tugged his sleeve back down again and glared at Harry. "Unbelievable," he muttered. Then he waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, keeping you alive should be a breeze. How hard can it be? If the Dark Lord didn't manage to off you after years of trying I doubt a bunch of hysterical teenagers will manage it." Malfoy took a peek around the wall. "Hysterical teenagers and what looks like one 90-year-old woman. Is that Longbottom's Grandmother?"

Harry groaned and put his head in his hands. Malfoy patted him on the shoulder again but this time it felt mocking.

"There, there. It's not all bad," Malfoy said. His tone implied he was going to list reasons, but when none were forthcoming Harry lowered his hands and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Like what? What could possibly be positive about all this?"

Malfoy shrugged, "I don't know. Perhaps if your fans cause enough chaos I could sneak into The Three Broomsticks and steal a bottle of firewhiskey."

"Because stealing is really gonna make Rosmerta forgive you."

"It's the only way I'll ever get a decent drink again," Malfoy said wistfully. "You, on the other hand, will never have to pay for a drink for the rest of your life. People will jump at the chance to buy you drinks."

Harry didn't mention people were already doing that. Even Malfoy had bought him the hot chocolate. "But I don't want them too act like this!" He waved a hand in the general direction of the crowd. "This shit happens every year at every event. I've tried everything. You know last year I actually threw my birthday party a week early, but they still gate-crashed that and stalked me on my actual birthday. And the anniversary of my parents' death they caused a fire because they all turned up to the church to light lanterns." Harry sighed. "I just want one day a year for me, to spend it quietly with the people I care about, is that too much to ask?"

Malfoy was quiet for a long moment; if he wasn't standing so close that Harry could hear his breathing and see the flecks of blue in his eyes, he might've thought Malfoy had left.

Eventually Malfoy nodded, a determined frown on his face. "Leave it with me, Potter. I'll fix this."

Before Harry could ask him to clarify what he was talking about, Malfoy smirked and gave him a two-fingered salute. "See you around, Scar-head."

Malfoy turned on his heel and strode off.

"Oi! What happened to protecting me!" Harry yelled after him, trying to sound serious and keep the smile out his voice.

Malfoy's laughter caught in the wind but was soon drowned out by several high-pitched screams.

Harry's head snapped around to find ten young women rushing towards him and realised too late that he'd given away his position.

"Shit!"

Stupid Malfoy, always getting him into trouble.