AN: I'm baaaaack! I am so sorry for the long delay- I was finishing my degree and life got really busy, but I'm finally totally finished! I'll have some time now to devote to this story and I'm hoping to get back on a weekly posting schedule.

Thanks to everyone who followed/favorited and thank you so much for your lovely reviews, I wish I could give you all giant stuffed hearts: anjiepotter, I was BOTWP, cochran4444, Lydia-Rashel, JLLove, kayomay, Rainmask888, LightofEvolution, Jd-dox, kkcnelson2002, ArielNicholas913, Black Banshee, Cecily Mitchell, PinkSlytherin, nova jarvis 7, kurokitty, wrwolk29, Bluxpudding, Ravsi, Zabethou, Cheeseinator, and guests. Guest who had a very bad day, I hope your day got better!

This chapter is from Draco's perspective, and I hope you all enjoy!

Changing Scenery

Chapter 18: Courting

Draco wasn't nervous. The reason his hands were shaking as he finished tying the ribbon on the small box containing the memory he was sending to Potter wasn't nerves. The manor was just a bit chilly. And it definitely wasn't because his Veela was practically vibrating with energy about the fact that he was finally able to properly court his mates. Definitely not.

Draco could have wrapped the gift with magic, and even though Potter wouldn't know the difference, he still liked the idea of wrapping it himself, the idea that everything about this gift was personal.

He summoned his owl and then attached the package and letter to its leg before sending it off to the Ministry. He watched it fly away until it was out of sight before turning away. The gift for Potter hadn't been hard to think of. From reading all the interviews he'd ever given, and knowing what he did of him from school, and especially from their conversation the night before, he knew that Potter valued love. And even though Draco wasn't nearly ready to declare anything, he could at least show Potter that it wasn't all physical. He nearly laughed aloud remembering the look on Potter's face when he'd asked about that last night. Potter couldn't have looked more embarrassed if they'd been having that conversation while standing in the atrium of the Ministry.

With a sigh, Draco left his office. The gift for Granger was harder. As he walked through the Manor, dodging the house elves as they cleaned up the remnants from last night, he considered the gift he'd decided to give her. He entered the library and walked went to the large bookshelf in the back of the room that he'd shown Hermione when she'd visited. The table tucked into the alcove nearby held the book he was looking for.

He ran a finger gently over the cover. Too predictable? He worried that sending a book implied that he believed she was still the same swot from school. Well, she did seem impressed by the shelf.

Gently, he picked up the book. Unwilling to trust the fragile manuscript to muggle protections, even if it had been heavily protected by preservation charms, he gently cast a heavy-duty Bubble-Wrap charm. A soft white glow enfolded the book, and then he wrapped it equally gently in plain silver paper. Summoning a quill and parchment, he wrote out a note. He opened a window in the alcove, and his owl, which had returned, landed on the sill, looking at him disapprovingly. He cast a Lightweight charm on the book before he attached it and the letter he'd written and then sent the owl on its way again.

Draco was sitting in his office when a tapping at his window signaled the arrival of an owl. He didn't recognize it, but he waved his wand to let it in, and he told himself he wasn't upset that it wasn't Potter's owl. The owl glided in and landed on his desk, chirping until Draco gave it some owl treats from the bag he kept in his desk. While the owl munched happily, Draco untied and read the letter.

Draco,

Sorry we didn't get a chance to talk last night. I was…busy. And it seems you were as well, because from what I heard you disappeared very early on. Imagine my surprise to hear that Draco Malfoy was such a bad host! Not that anyone noticed, of course. Most of the guests were distracted by Petunia Parkinson making such a fool of herself that Pansy had to get the help of an Auror to escort her home.

Anyway, my girlfriend, who was so distracting last night, and whom you had the pleasure of (re-) meeting a few weeks ago, has asked that I invite you on a double date. She says it will be 'very amusing.' I told her you weren't seeing anyone but she insisted. She assured me that she was certain you wouldn't have trouble finding someone to accompany you.

I swear I didn't tell her about you and Granger and Potter. You didn't make progress and not tell me, did you? To have my girlfriend know first would truly would me. Deeply. Regardless, I've made reservations at the Griffon for seven o'clock on Friday, so you had better make some progress before then.

-Blaise

Draco frowned. Blaise's girlfriend? That Weasley girl! He thought back to her strange behavior last night. His eyes widened as he reread the letter. How did she know? Neither Potter nor Granger could have said something, because they'd only put it together last night and he'd been with them every moment until they both went home. But the Weaselette apparently knew enough, and somehow she'd arranged it so that he had to take at least one of his mates out in public. He could technically refuse, but Blaise would kill him if he displeased his girlfriend, or if he had to cancel a reservation at the Griffon. Draco wasn't sure whether he should feel annoyed or grateful.

He quickly wrote out a reply agreeing to the date and then sent it with the owl who had waited patiently for his reply. Before he had a chance to close the window, another owl flew through. He recognized this one from the many letters Potter had sent him about the case. He gave several treats the grey owl, who flew away as soon as he had untied the letter. He ignored the excited flutter of the Veela in the back of his mind.

Draco took a deep breath before unfolding it.

Draco,

It feels strange to write Draco instead of Malfoy, but it makes sense if we're trying to get to know each other. And you should call me Harry, then, I guess.

So, Draco, you were also…surprisingly enjoyable company. Even if you were an arse. Although, you do have a very nice arse, actually, so I suppose that makes up for it. I think it's alright to say that I'm looking forward to seeing you again? Even though I think everything about this situation is strange and confusing.

Thank you for your gift. It was a bit unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. To my taste, I suppose you would say. I can't imagine it was easy to send those memories, and I want to give you something real in return – my name is hardly a gift. So, if you tap this parchment with your wand, my Floo address will appear at the bottom and your magic will be keyed to the wards on it. I would ask that you burn the address after you read it, because I don't give it out to just anyone. And don't pop in just because you feel like it. One person who does that is enough.

Also, I wanted to let you know that Dunham's trial started today. I'll owl you when you need to come in to speak, but that probably won't be for at least a week. The Wizengamot moves about as fast as a frozen snail, as I'm sure you know.

-Harry

P.S. Should I expect to hear from you about a 'meeting' or something soon? I'm relying on you to keep me from looking like a fool.

He trusts me. Even knowing that he was grinning like a fool wasn't enough to keep Draco from rereading the letter twice, tracing over the curves of the letters and the splotches of ink. The postscript was a bit messier than the rest of the letter, and Draco couldn't help but wonder if Potter had hesitated before adding it. That was more revealing than even giving his Floo address.

Draco pulled out his wand and gently tapped the parchment, and spiky black lines appeared below the postscript spelling out Prongs' Den. He frowned. While it was common for wizards to choose unusual names for their homes so that their Floo addresses couldn't easily be guessed, this name seemed particularly unusual. Regardless, the idea that he could now contact or visit Potter – Harry – whenever he liked, even if he did have to send warning in advance was extremely pleasing, particularly to his Veela.

His feathers ruffled gently as his wings flared out, casting rippling shadows on the floor of his office. Looking over the postscript again, Draco smirked and penned a short response to Harry's letter. Summoning a different owl from the owlery, Draco sent off the letter.

The next morning, a letter each from Granger and Harry, as well as his usual business correspondence, was waiting for Draco when he went down to breakfast. Ignoring the business letters, Draco picked up the silver letter opener a house elf had left him and opened the letter from Harry.

He grinned as he read the short missive.

Draco,

I'll go, and you had better not say anything about my hair or clothes.

-Harry

Draco laid aside that letter and picked up Granger's.

Malfoy,

I can't believe you sent me this. I have no idea where you got it and I'm sure it's worth a fortune. I know courting gifts are traditional, but this is too much. I was expecting flowers, or chocolate even, not a priceless manuscript!

It's utterly ridiculous but I love it and even though I'm sure it belongs in a museum or a research library, I'm keeping it. Don't get a big head about it. And don't get any ideas!

-Hermione Granger

His grin grew wider as he read until his face felt as though it would split in two. Once a bibliophile, always a bibliophile.

Setting both letters carefully aside, he finished breakfast in a ridiculously cheerful mood.

At quarter to seven on Friday evening, Draco used his newly-gained knowledge and took the Floo to Harry's house. When he stepped out of the hearth, focused on spelling away the soot on his clothes, he nearly tripped over the table in the middle of the room. His shin banged against the wood and he grimaced.

"Er, sorry about that," Harry said, hurrying forward and helping Draco straighten up. "I keep meaning to rearrange the furniture so it's not so close to the Floo but so few people use the Floo that I always forget."

Most of Harry's rambling went over his head as Draco took in the feeling of Harry's arm around his waist and the smell of his cologne.

"That's practically a hazard," Draco drawled when he'd got his voice back. "Almost as much of a hazard as that chair." He tilted his head toward the horribly old and tattered armchair to the right of the fireplace.

Harry frowned. "What's wrong with that chair?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "It's ugly."

"So? It's comfortable."

"Things can be both comfortable and aesthetically pleasing, Harry." Draco savored the taste of Harry's name as it rolled off his tongue for the first time without being accompanied by his last name or vitriol.

Harry appeared equally entranced. "I, er, I suppose so…Draco."

Draco nearly shuddered at the feeling of hearing his given name on his mate's lips.

Harry stepped away and then stood there, looking awkward and uncomfortable and utterly delicious. Draco looked him up and down, savoring the view of Harry in a black muggle suit that stretched across his shoulders and around his things underneath a black outer robe that emphasized the broadness of his shoulders.

Harry frowned when Draco simply stared. "Is it alright? I asked Ginny for advice but she said it was about time I learned to dress myself and sent me the address of a tailor." He tugged at the lapel of his jacket. "It seems a bit tight, but the tailor assured me it was perfectly in fashion. And I didn't want to embarrass you. Ginny told me the Griffon is the most exclusive restaurant in Wizarding London."

Harry was blushing now and Draco knew he should say something before Harry started babbling again. "It isn't too tight. At all. You look absolutely perfect." Draco stepped into Harry's personal space and brushed his hands down the lapels Harry had played with, smoothing the wrinkles. Merlin's bollocks, he's fit.

"Thank you." Harry blushed again. "You too. You look good, I mean."

Draco smirked. "My tailor would never let me out looking anything but perfect, Harry." Just as good the second time. He licked his lips. "Ready?" he asked, holding out his arm.

Harry nodded, grasping his arm firmly. "Ready."

They Disapparated with a crack.

Blaise and Weasley hadn't yet arrived when they appeared at the restaurant, but the maître d' quickly led them to a private table in the back, the half-circle booth encouraging them to sit close together. Seeing that Harry was nervous, Draco sat at a polite distance away so that only their knees were touching underneath the table. For now.

After sitting in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, Blaise and Weasley finally slid into the other side of the booth, looking rather more recently shagged than was strictly appropriate.

The Weaselette leaned over the table to air-kiss Harry's cheek. "So sorry we're late, got caught up."

The Veela twitched underneath Draco's skin at the casual intimacy. Draco resisted the urge to release his talons and merely raised an eyebrow at Blaise, who shrugged unrepentantly and smirked.

"Wine?" Draco suggested. On cue, a waiter appeared and Draco ordered what he knew was one of the most expensive bottles of red wine in their cellar. Harry appeared clueless, but Blaise and Weasley both grinned at him.

The waiter appeared again carrying a bottle of wine a moment later, opening the bottle and pouring a small amount into a glass for Draco to taste. After taking a sip, rolling it around in his mouth to appreciate the flavor, he nodded to the waiter who immediately poured everyone a precise glass before disappearing again.

After studying their menus and then placing their orders with the ever-prompt waiter, Draco turned to Blaise. If Harry was determined to sit in silence, then Draco would counter with excruciating politesse. "How is your mother?" he asked Blaise.

"Quite well," he replied with subtle amusement. "She and her new husband have finally returned from their honeymoon and gone to the villa in Tuscany."

"That must be very nice this time of year," Draco said.

"I doubt my mother takes much notice of the weather," Blaise commented drily. The hint of glare he sent Draco assured him that the subject was now closed.

"And your mother, Miss Weasley?" Draco asked, more out of a sense of courtesy than any real interest. But it was clear that she and Harry were close, and friends of his mate were, at the very least, allies of his.

Weasley rolled her eyes. "Call me Ginny, or Ginevra if you're too stuffy for that. And my mother is fine, but a far less interesting topic than the two of you. So." She rested her elbows on the table and smiled a frankly terrifying smile. "Tell me all about it."

"Ginny," Harry hissed.

This only made Ginevra smile wider. "That means there's something to tell." She took a sip of her wine. "No point hiding from me, Harry."

"Ginny! We're in public."

Ginevra shrugged, taking another sip of wine. "I didn't ask for the gory details, but thank you for confirming there are some." She grinned.

Draco looked back and forth between them. Harry rubbed his face and groaned. Draco leaned close. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured.

Harry looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Evasion only encourages her."

From the way she was leaning back, with Blaise's arm slung around her shoulders, looking like the cat who'd got the cream, he thought Harry was probably right.

"Ginny, later, okay?" Harry asked, pleading.

Ginevra sighed loudly. "Fine," she said, with the air of one being extremely magnanimous. "But now you can't leave anything out. Not one single thing, Harry James Potter."

Draco gave Blaise a look just this side of beseeching. Blaise smirked but took pity on him. "Love, didn't you tell me that training was starting again?"

"So soon?" Harry asked.

Ginevra leaned forward, abandoning her pose of satisfaction. "Yeah, our coach wants to get first in the League next year, so he's starting training a month earlier. A whole month! We've barely had a month off. And he wants us to keep training in Wales – in January! It's mad."

Draco nearly grimaced. Scotland in the winter had been bad, especially living in the dungeons. Flying outdoors in the winter in Wales was not a pleasant prospect to consider. Beside him, Harry shivered as if having the same thought. If Draco hadn't hidden his wings for the evening, he would have stretched one out to cocoon him. Is that the Veela, or just me?

The conversation about Quidditch continued through the appetizers and the main course, but Ginevra's patience had apparently run out by dessert.

"So, are you two actually seeing each other? Or did Malfoy here decide that only the Chosen One was good enough to bring to dinner at the Griffon?" She attempted an innocent look, but it was ruined by the gleam in her eye and the pornographic way she licked chocolate mousse off the delicate dessert spoon. Blaise was utterly distracted by her oral abilities and provided no buffer at all.

Draco felt Harry stiffen at Ginevra's question. Draco had steadily worked his way closer to Harry throughout the meal until their thighs were touching from hip to knee, but above the table they simply looked as though they were sitting near each other, not that anyone would have been fooled if they'd been paying attention.

Glad of the excuse, Draco put a hand on Harry's thigh to lend support. And to feel the muscle that tensed and then relaxed beneath his touch.

He thought about answering, but he wanted to hear Harry's response. Will he claim me, this, in public? Although the Griffon provided plenty of privacy and there were no tables near enough to hear their conversation.

Harry appeared frozen, his fork, loaded with a bite of chocolate cake, hovering halfway to his mouth. Finally he appeared to unfreeze and slowly set his fork down. He ran his now-free hand through his hair, mussing the part.

"We, uh, we're sort of, well, uh, yeah. I guess. We're seeing each other."

"That sounded like a question," Ginevra said, clearly enjoying Harry's nervousness.

Draco was too distracted by the fizzing sensation running along his nerve endings to prevent her interrogation.

Harry had affirmed their relationship. In public. Even if the Weasley was a close friend, Blaise wasn't, and he'd still acknowledged it. And they were in a restaurant, far more public a place than the private room in the Manor. Draco felt like he was floating, maybe even flying.

Harry cleared his throat. "No, we are. Definitely. Draco called it courting, I think."

Ginevra's eyebrows shot up. "Courting? You're letting him court you?"

Even Blaise looked at him with surprise, and all Draco could do was smirk slightly in agreement.

"Well, it seemed important to him," Harry said defensively.

Even if Harry didn't realize everything he'd just admitted to, Blaise and even Ginevra seemed to. Ginevra sat back, folding her arms and looking contemplative.

Harry turned to look at him helplessly.

Reading his face, Draco turned back to their dining partners. "If you'll excuse us, I think we're going to retire." Let them make of that what they will.

When Draco started to raise his hand to signal the waiter, Blaise waved him off. "I've got this. Off you go."

Draco gave him a genuine smile of thanks before smoothing his features. He slid out of the booth and then offered his arm to Harry, who appeared to be too bewildered to put up an argument.

Draco escorted him smoothly out of the restaurant and then Apparated them back to Harry's flat.

The feel of Apparation seemed to pull Harry out of his daze. "Thank you."

Draco wasn't sure what he was thanking him for, but replied, "You're welcome."

"Do you, do you mind that I told her? I assumed it wasn't a secret, since you invited me out, and all. But won't it be strange? When people find out it's the three of us? Because it'll get out eventually. And then people will start saying that I'm cheating on you, or Hermione's playing both of us, or something equally ridiculous. Rita Skeeter will have the biggest field day in years." Harry ran a hand through his hair and then slumped down on the couch.

Draco sat beside him, letting out his wings and wrapping one around Harry's shoulder. He spared a brief thought of satisfaction for the excellence of his tailor. "I don't mind at all. I'm rather pleased, actually."

Harry glanced at him in surprise. "Really?"

Draco smirked. "Of course. My mate affirmed our relationship in public. I couldn't be anything but pleased."

"So it's just the Veela, then?"

Draco frowned. "What?"

"It's just the Veela that wants to be public, that's pleased about it," Harry clarified.

Draco gave a long-suffering sigh. "Harry, I am the Veela. The Veela is me. We aren't separate entities. Yes, sometimes it feels like a separate set of instincts, but it's still a part of me. I can't separate it from the rest of who I am, even if I wanted to."

Harry was silent for a moment. "So those memories you sent me, those were…" he trailed off.

Draco felt his cheeks grow a bit red. "Those were real. I've always felt a draw towards you, but it wasn't until after the war that I felt like there wasn't an insurmountable obstacle between us, except there was. Because you were the Savior, and I was a Death Eater. In some ways, I'm grateful to that bastard for bringing us together," he admitted, looking away. "But I'd like to think I'd eventually have worked up the courage to approach you without the pressure of mating."

Draco hadn't said anything so revealing to another person in a very long time, and his knuckles were white as he clenched his hands together. Eventually he dared a glance at Harry, and then Harry was leaning in and kissing him and everything was lips and tongues and teeth.

Harry took advantage of Draco's gasp and plunged his tongue into his mouth, but Draco didn't let him dominate the kiss for long, wrapping his wing tighter and then using his hands, tangling one Harry's hair and using the other to yank Harry's shirt out of his trousers and then slipping his hand underneath.

Harry's hands weren't idle either. Draco felt cool air brush his skin from where Harry was undoing the buttons on his shirt, and then hot skin when Harry's hands delved underneath, gripping Draco's ribs and pulling him closer.

Draco tilted his head to get a better angle even as he started on Harry's buttons, but when he tried to push the shirt of Harry's shoulders, he realized that Harry was still wearing his jacket and robe.

Harry appeared to be facing similar issues. "Too, many, clothes," Harry panted against his lips.

Draco agreed wholeheartedly. He pulled back long enough to pull out his wand and then Banished everything but their pants to the armchair. Harry jumped at the change, but when he realized what had happened, he relaxed.

Draco reached out, pulling Harry back into a heated snog. Their hands wandered further, one of Draco's hands tangling back in the messy hair he couldn't quite work up the energy to be bothered about and the other palming the hot, smooth skin of Harry's lower back. Harry's hands both went directly to Draco's arse, pulling Draco bodily on top of himself.

Draco smirked against Harry's mouth. "I guess you really do like my arse," he murmured.

Harry's lips traveled along Draco's jaw to his ear, where he nipped the lobe. "You have no idea."

It wasn't until Draco's hand brushed against Harry's very hard cock that Harry tensed up again. Draco immediately pulled his hand back, waiting.

Harry leaned his forehead against Draco's.

"Sorry, I just. I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

Even though his own cock was begging for release, Draco sat back, resting his arse on Harry's knees. "That's fine, we don't have to."

Some of Draco's disappointment must have leaked through, because Harry looked up in a panic. "It's not that I don't want to! I just, this is fast. Really fast."

Draco nodded. "I understand, and I'm not upset." Desperate, maybe. And he really couldn't bring himself to be mad, because it was fast. And if his Veela hadn't been practically salivating in the back of his mind, Draco would never have tried to go this far on what was basically their first date. And to think, I'm the one who wanted to do courting, to be traditional.

Reluctantly, Draco slid off Harry's lap. He went over to the armchair and sorted out his clothes, pulling on his trousers and shirt. If he dressed a little slower than normal and bent over more than was strictly necessary directly in Harry's line of sight, well. It was entirely accidental.

Draco left off his jacket and outer robe, draping them over one arm. When he turned back around, Harry was still sitting down, leaning back and looking extremely conflicted.

Draco smirked. "See you soon, Harry."

He Disapparated with a loud crack.

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