Confession? Author is terrified she won't live up to the praise you so lovingly bestowed on her. She's also more then a little afraid at some of the threats she received – shootings, beheadings, suicides, and, worst of all, sending Mrs. Weasley after her shudder. Seriously, though? Thanks so much. I was flabbergasted (ain't that a great word?) Nothing else to report, except that I got Slytherin socks! Yes, you heard me, socks with a picture of a snake, Slytherin written across the top, and 'Harry Potter' written out in rubber along the bottom (typical, Slytherin walking all over those Gryffindors!) Too bad they keep me from sliding on the linoleum (that'll make sense later). Hope you enjoy!

The underlying rhythm of the music had been in perfect sync with the beat of Draco's heart, when he and Harry had begun to dance. Somewhere along the way, however, the tempo had altered so that now his heart was racing at far greater speed then the music could ever hope to achieve. Intensity such as he had never known made him tremble, and he clutched Harry closer, though they were already pressed so tightly together that he could feel every breath in and out of Harry's lungs.

Draco wet his lips. In his mind, he had created a multitude of scenarios for his first kiss with Harry. He saw them on a beach, the salt-sea air wafting over from gently breaking waves, the sun bathing them in light and heat, the sand warm and faintly gritty beneath their palms and the soles of their feet. He saw Harry grin happily, and saw himself leaning in to capture that fleeting smile with his mouth.

Draco drew his head back, cheek dragging against the slightly rough skin of Harry's freshly shaven face. He pictured them in another whimsical situation. They sat side-by-side on an ancient stone bench in the coolness of very early morning, heavy dew bringing out the scents of fresh cut grass and heady flowers. Soft grey fog drifted over the lush green foliage, and swirled around their feet, only to dissipate beneath the first pinkish rays of the rising sun. Harry's eyes were solemn, a moss green that melded with the landscape, and Draco couldn't be certain he was real, and not some trick of the light and shadow. The kiss was as gentle as the mist that enveloped them.

Draco put a little more force behind his lead, angling them across the writhing dance floor, to a corner lost in shadow. He pictured another idyllic first kiss. They were walking down an empty street in the faded light of evening. A soft rain began to fall, dampening their clothes, their hair, their skin, and making everything seem new and glossy. The streetlights came on, their smooth muted light flowing through the inky darkness, and bouncing off water covered streets, making them sparkle as though covered in hundreds of polished gems. Draco reached up and removed Harry's misted over glasses, and looked into eyes that had somehow caught the glow of gold as it spilled out from above, the sight so dazzling he was momentarily blinded. When they came together for a kiss, the contrast between cool rainwater and hot mouths made the rest of his senses shutdown.

Draco's breath was coming in short pants now, as he tried desperately to calm down, to not rush things too much. It was like the other vague ideas he had about kissing Harry, the schemes that weren't so elaborately planned out, where there was simply passion pouring forth like molten lava, and a kiss that burned truer and hotter then any flame.

He had to kiss Harry now. In all his fantasies, they had always been alone, and always someplace special. Unfortunately, all those plans needed time, and time was something he was rapidly running out of. He had to kiss Harry. He would simply have to make do with the current setting – a loud club with boisterous people crowding around, much as he would have liked something perfect, something surreal, and completely and utterly unforgettable. He had to kiss Harry. He needed to kiss Harry or something integral to his very being would be lost. He had to kiss Harry. And that was why they were in the most private corner that the club could afford them, and why Draco was nudging Harry's head from off his shoulder, and cupping Harry's chin with his long fingers. Because he had to kiss Harry.

Harry's eyes opened, focussed themselves on Draco's intense expression, and widened slightly as Draco stroked a pale finger across his lips.

" Draco?" Harry whispered, confusion and want vying for prominence in his green eyes.

Draco couldn't formulate an answer; he was too far along now, too close to his goal. His heart was fluttering so fast that he feared that at any moment it was going to come apart, and with his lips just barely distanced from Harry's, he couldn't draw one more single shaky breath to steady it. Harry's eyes were drifting closed again, leaning into Draco's touch, patient and willing. Time froze.

" Well, well, well. If it isn't my dear cousin," came a loud, nasal voice. The moment shattered, and Harry pulled away. To Draco it felt like the whole world had been stolen from him, once Harry was removed from his grasp. He whirled and glared at the man who had dared interrupt.

Whatever familiar resemblance might have existed between Harry and his cousin, it was lost beneath layers of soft muscle and fat. Though he stood at an impressive height, his sheer bulk made him appear more round, then tall, and his puffed red face with its frowning expression, only heightened the illusion of a small, whiny child stuck in a giant's body. Lank brown hair stuck to his head like a helmet, and beady little eyes squinted at them.

" Dudley," Harry hissed lowly, crossing his arms across his chest protectively. Only because Draco was well versed in studying Harry, did he catch the slight quaver of apprehension in Harry's voice. " What are you doing here?"

" Why, I feel I should be the one asking that question. Since this is my territory… Don't you freaks prefer a different domain? Oh, that's right, you even failed at becoming a freak, didn't you? And that means there's nothing you can do to me."

Harry scowled but said nothing, hoping Dudley would get bored and disappear. Dudley seemed to have run out of taunts already, when his greedy gaze alighted on Draco. Draco refused to be intimidated; innate stubborn pride made him stand his ground.

Dudley's eyes lit up as though someone had handed him a free chocolate cake, " And you're with someone. A boy. Ha! You're not only a freak, but a faggot as well! Oh, mum and dad will just love this news. A fucking fag… Can't you ever do anything normal?"

Draco wasn't entirely sure where the hostility between the two cousins stemmed from, and he didn't even really understand what was happening right at that moment. What he did know for certain was that Harry was being threatened, and that he was scared. As Harry's new, self-appointed protector, it only seemed right for Draco to step between Harry and the behemoth.

" Listen you fat, disgusting, ignoramus. I suggest you leave, because I did become a fully certified 'freak', and I know a curse that will shrink that pathetic little thing between your legs, to nothing at all."

Dudley's gaze flickered down to his crotch as he surreptitiously tried to shield the area with his blunt, meaty hands. He was unaccustomed to his victims fighting back and he could feel his bravado crumbling fast. However, he also knew Draco couldn't really attack him magically in a public place. Hatred rose up in his throat like bile. How dare this blond pansy speak back to him as though they were equals! With spittle flying from his mouth, he retorted intelligently with,

" Oh yeah?"

" Yeah," Draco said. Draco's cool regard contrasted sharply with Dudley's mounting temper. " Now you just toddle off to whatever little cess-pool you oozed from, and let Harry and I get back to what we were doing. Or, you can watch if you like, seeing how hot and bothered it's gotten you so far. You do know what they say about homophobes like you, right? That they're really just in denial?"

Draco figured it was that last comment about Dudley's sexuality that sealed his fate. The punch was unprofessionally delivered, but what it lacked in technique, it made up for in brute strength. The fist struck with the force of a hammer against the side of Draco's face, and sent him careening to the floor. His nose began to bleed on contact. He supposed, cynically, that he ought to thank his father for teaching him how to take a punch – Dudley would have broken his jaw otherwise.

" Hey, I warned you earlier! No rough stuff or you're out of here," said a burly bouncer, breaking through the small crowd that had begun to form around them. The bouncer placed a steely grip around Dudley's forearm. Dudley tried to feign innocence, but with Draco still on the floor, blood seeping into the sleeve of his shirt, it was not a terribly credible act. " Out, now. Unless anyone wants to press charges?"

Draco didn't know what that meant, and looked to Harry. Harry was staring at his shoes, and managed to shake his head no. The bouncer grunted and began hauling the protesting Dudley out of the club. A manager showed up, and began handing out free drink coupons, dispelling the crowd and getting people back into the regular stream of things.

" Shit, Harry. Somebody should put a muzzle on that muggle," Draco said. He was still sitting on the dusty floor, waiting for the room to stop spinning before attempting to stand.

" What the fuck did you think you were doing?" Harry screamed at him. Furious, Harry glared down at Draco, snapping out, " You just had to open your big mouth didn't you? Now Dudley knows."

Stunned, Draco could only watch stupidly as Harry stalked off. What the hell had just happened? One minute, everything was perfect, and the next, Draco was in pain, hated by friend and foe alike. Trying to work out the problem for himself, he ran through the list of events: One: Draco tries to kiss Harry. Two: the world's ugliest person interrupts Draco and Harry at the crucial juncture. Three: said ugly person threatens Harry. Four: gallant and gorgeous Draco politely informs the ugly person that he has a small penis. Five: Draco gets slugged (but still looks far better then the man who hit him). Six: Draco gets yelled at by the object of his affections for intervening.

Draco shook his head, wincing when he remembered he had just been hit and that shaking his head was not the smartest thing to be doing, still completely in the dark about Harry's reactions.

" Well screw him," Draco muttered, starting to get angry. " See if I ever do something nice for him again."

" Here," said Tim, fighting his way through the milling masses, and handing Draco a wad of paper napkins. Draco took the offered items gratefully, pressing them to his bloody nose. " Come on, let's get you cleaned up a bit."

Tim led Draco through the crowd to the men's room, and leaned against the wall, while Draco stood in front of the sink, washing dried blood from his nose and chin, and spitting out the residue that had filtered into his mouth. Draco was still muttering obscenities about Harry's lack of gratitude, when Tim broke in.

" Sorry you got hit. We didn't notice Dudley had showed up until it was over."

" It's okay, not your fault."

" It's not Harry's either," Tim said.

Draco sighed," I know it's not."

" But it still hurts that he shoved you away at the last moment, right?"

" You could say that," Draco said, eyeing his appearance critically. The shirt was ruined, and it looked as though his eye was going to swell up. His face was already turning an interesting shade of purple. The pain that he felt, however, was far from physical. The bruise was a minor discomfort; the fact that Harry had turned on him like that was the real source of grief.

" He does that, the avoidance thing I mean, usually without meaning to. Try not to take it personally," Tim advised.

" How do you know?"

" We used to date. Very briefly, I might add. This would have been nearly a year ago. Anyway, I always considered Harry to be just my type, so I asked him out, and he accepted. Two dates in, I knew it wasn't going to work. He wasn't really ready, you understand?"

" I'm afraid I don't," Draco said, still bitter.

Tim grunted, " Harry has some pretty warped ideas about what's right and what's wrong. I sort-of figured he must have had really strict parents, and that he was trying to live up to some impossible standard."

" It wasn't his parents, but go on," Draco said.

" Well, I don't think he has really accepted that he's gay. Oh, he says he is, and most of him believes it, but there's still this part of him that won't accept it, a part telling him that to be gay is wrong."

" Don't think I'm being rude, but how does that apply to what just happened?"

" His only remaining family didn't know his preference, and now they do. It was one more chink in his protective shell of denial."

" Is it me?" Draco asked finally, afraid to hear the truth, but needing to know regardless.

" Why you're not together? Yes and no. He likes you, any idiot can see that, but that means you're a serious threat to his way of life. He's likely terrified, which I think is why he yelled at you."

" Well, it's bloody frustrating – no pun intended," Draco said, finished with the repairs to his face.

" Draco, I know we just met, but don't give up on him? He's a good man, really," Tim said. Draco didn't answer at first, but eventually he gave a small nod of acquiescence. " Of course, I'd hold out for a damn good apology, the stupid git."

The comment made Draco smile, but it faded quickly. All of it was too much to take-in, and more then anything, he just wanted to go home. Go home, and ignore Harry until he had sorted things out properly in his head.

With Tim off helping Draco, it was Mike's responsibility to look after Harry. He found Harry back at their table, scowling into an empty glass and kicking the table leg, which was beginning to shake ominously.

" So…" Mike began, already stumped for something to say. Tim was the one who usually handled all this sensitive, emotional crap. Best to stick with what you know, Mike decided. " So, you fucked him yet?"

Harry's eyes nearly fell out of his head, " What?"

" Draco; have you shagged him yet?"

" No, I… No, I told you before, we're just friends."

" Bullshit. You do not dance with friends the way you two were dancing."

" I didn't want to, that was all Draco's doing," Harry muttered.

" Uh huh. Sure, I believe that," Mike said, rolling his eyes. " Everyone could see how desperate you were to get away from him, what with your arms wrapped around him and all. And the fact that most of us onlookers were getting the best foreplay of our lives just watching you two, that wouldn't in any way make you believe that you're both craving something more?"

" People were watching?"

" Are you kidding? You robbed us all of a climax, when that idiot of a cousin interrupted. You're into him, and you want to fuck him senseless, and it's all as plain as day. Not that I blame you, he's Goddamn gorgeous, though he's a bit on the thin side, and I generally like my men to be big and a little bit musclely, but not too many muscles, and it's okay if their thing is a little bent…"

" Mike! I get it."

" Then quit with the denial, it's getting boring, and admit that you get hard just thinking about him."

Eventually Harry said, " Okay. Maybe, I'll admit that I like him in a less-then platonic way." In response to his confession, he got a whack upside the head, and a foot to the shin. " Ouch! What the hell was that for?"

" For being such an inconsiderate bastard. Here he is, the man you willingly admit to at least 'liking', doing his best to make you happy and keep you safe, and how do you repay him? You kick him while he's down! I'd hit you more if I didn't know that you did it because you're so messed up in the head. You owe him a serious apology, and I suggest grovelling on your knees and begging for forgiveness."

Harry paled. It had been pretty stupid, yelling at Draco like that. Why had he done it? Did it really matter that Dudley, and eventually his Aunt and Uncle, found out that he was homosexual? Surely he didn't still need their approval? Something had simply snapped inside when he'd seen the disgust in Dudley's eyes. And then the rage had taken the form of words, and come spilling out of his mouth before he'd really thought about it, not directed so much at Draco, but to anyone who cared to listen. God: how he regretted it now.

" You're right, where is he?"

" Cleaning off the blood, I suspect. Now, I know you're new at this, so I just thought I'd mention that there's an ulterior motive for being on your knees while apologizing. If it starts to look like he isn't going to forgive you, then being on your knees puts you nice and level with certain items, and let's just say there are some things your mouth can do, that words can't."

Harry's head thumped against the tabletop, his face a vivid crimson in colour.

" Mike? Not now? Please?"

" Yeah, okay. I'll give you pointers next time. Besides, I see Tim, and he's got our coats. I think it's time we were going. You getting a ride back with us?"

" Nah, it's out of your way; Draco and I will take the underground. I guess we need to talk anyway," Harry said.

" Well, talk to begin with…"

" Mike!"

" Right, sorry."

Harry was still blushing madly when they joined up with Draco and Tim. He couldn't make himself look Draco in the eye as he shrugged into his jacket and hurried out the main door. Just outside the entrance, they split up, Mike winking, Tim clapping Draco on the shoulder sympathetically, and Draco and Harry standing with as much distance between themselves as possible. When Tim and Mike were gone, Harry reluctantly found his voice.

" Draco I'm…"

" Where's the underground from here?" Draco interposed coolly. Harry indicated, and Draco started off at a brisk pace. Harry had to run to catch up.

" Draco, wait, I have something I want to say," Harry said, catching the sleeve of Draco's jacket.

" Don't touch me," Draco snarled. " You've done enough of that lately, and I'm not feeling particularly generous at the moment."

He pulled away from Harry, striding purposely towards the brightly lit sign indicating the entrance to the underground. Harry trailed behind, wondering what to make of this new complication. They rode out the trip in silence, and upon arriving at the flat, Draco went directly to the bedroom and shut the door.

" Draco, please, I want to apologize, I'm sorry for what I did."

The door swung open with such alacrity that Harry nearly fell inwards.

" What exactly are you sorry for, Harry?" Draco asked.

" For, uh, you know. Getting mad at you for, well…" Harry pushed his hand through his hair, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. " I'm sorry I yelled at you, I guess."

" You guess?"

" Well, what do you want me to say?" Harry said, somewhat vexed.

" Just forget it. I'm tired, and I want to sleep. Leave me alone until you figure out why I'm really mad at you."

Draco turned his back on Harry and slid into bed, leaving a bewildered Harry in the bedroom doorway. Harry brushed his teeth and took out his contact lenses. He put on a pair of boxers and a faded T-shirt. He walked quietly back into the room; Draco was asleep. Harry got his first real look at the spot where Draco had been struck, and he gulped. Walking quickly back to the kitchen, he wrapped some ice in a plastic bag, covered the bag in a tea towel, and then crept back into his room. He knelt on the carpet, next to the bed, and gently shook Draco awake.

" What now? You had better be dying or something," Draco muttered.

" You need to put some ice on that bruise. It's probably too late, but it can't hurt to try and ease the swelling," Harry said.

" I'll be fine. It's not the first time," Draco said, closing his eyes again. He heard Harry shift, and then cold ice was pressed gently to his cheek.

" I know this has happened before, but I also know when it happened to me, I always wished someone would come and clean me up afterwards, and make sure I was okay," Harry said. He was carefully holding the ice over the visible swelling, trying to ignore the slight ache in his arms from the unnatural position. " And I'm sorry for letting you face Dudley on your own; for not backing you up. I was scared."

" Your cousin is an idiot – not someone who needs to be feared."

" I wasn't afraid of Dudley," Harry said softly.

" Curious," Draco said. " I wasn't sure you were capable of admitting what really made you afraid."

" I was scared of you. Because you were supposed to be safe, someone I wasn't going to fall for, and then even if I did, you would never reciprocate. And then it seems that I did, and you do, and it was all too much."

Draco reached up and patted the hand that held the cooling compress to his face. " Apology accepted, Harry."

It truly was something to be savoured: having someone see to your every hurt. Had anyone ever taken care of Draco with the same tenderness and patience as Harry was? And Harry was right, even though the bruise was not that painful, having someone sooth it made all the difference. Draco felt a thousand other hurts expunged by Harry's actions: an internal healing. He wanted to bask in the warmth of compassion that flowed off Harry in waves. Draco couldn't remember when he'd last felt so safe, and so peaceful.

When two warm lips pressed against his own it seemed a very natural progression of events. No panic, or unease, only the most perfect sensation ever experienced. Harry withdrew from the kiss, and Draco opened his eyes wide.

" Is this okay?" Harry asked hesitantly.

A loaded question. For Harry was not asking merely for permission to kiss, but rather for assurance that it was okay to want to kiss, okay to have the desires he had, and okay to be who he was. How was Draco to answer such an important question? What platitudes could he possibly offer to console or reassure Harry that everything he was feeling was normal? That Draco was feeling the very same things, and that it was indeed frightening, but also stunningly beautiful?

Draco reached out and plucked the ice bag from Harry's chilled fingers. He placed it on the bedside table, and threaded his fingers with Harry's. He wanted to tell Harry so many things, but he settled for the most honest answer he could give to the question asked. It was simply,

" Yes."

A shy smile stole over Harry's face, and then they were kissing again, lips melding gently at first, and then with greater enthusiasm. Draco freed a hand to let it slide through Harry's hair, intentionally bringing him closer so he could taste more of his mouth. One of Harry's hands pushed against the centre of Draco's chest, to steady his kneeling position, while the other remained firmly clenched in Draco's.

How long had they been like this? Surely Harry's back must be aching, his feet cold, and his muscles sore from kneeling over the bed? Absolutely they were, but still his lips remained, greedy for more. Each taste was slightly different; every meeting of mouths as soft as the first time, and every slight parting as dreadful as the last.

Mouths opened; tongues entered curiously, tentatively. The twin tongues met, velvety warm wet muscles sliding past each other, off to explore still more of the wonders being offered. Slick, sharp teeth, and smooth moist skin. Reverence and urgency not nearly so incompatible as supposed.

Bursts of warm hot breath came with greater succession, as they both struggled for the air they needed to continue. Draco slid his hand from where it had become entangled in Harry's hair, and brought it alongside the other man's face, trying to keep the inevitable moment of parting from happening too soon. Harry felt the same, and risked his precarious balance to stroke the side of Draco's cheek.

The slight hiss of pain from the contact with the livid bruise was faint, but close as they were, Harry couldn't ignore it. Breaking free from the stupor caused by the intoxication of Draco's mouth, he began to taste the overlying flavours of alcohol and the coppery aftertaste of blood. Rational thought began intruding, and Harry slowly retreated from the embrace, placing kisses on Draco's lips that were so tender they were almost imperceptible. Almost.

Harry started to laugh quietly. Draco, rather perturbed at being brought back down to earth, pouted slightly.

" What's so funny?"

" I was just thinking of Dudley's face when you accused him of being queer," Harry explained.

Draco snorted, and turned his face back towards the bedroom ceiling. " For one thing, I didn't accuse anybody, I merely hinted, and your cousin leapt to conclusions. Rather defensive, wasn't he? And for another: you really know how to break the mood Harry, you know that? Getting me to picture that monstrosity of a sideshow circus attraction: 'fat man swallows own face' …"

" Oh, come on, even I'll admit he's not that bad," Harry responded, laughing at Draco's description nonetheless.

Draco gave a shudder of revulsion, " I thought I was being polite. Him being your cousin and all. Did your aunt mate with the elephant man by chance?"

" I can't believe he's a part of my family," Harry said, lip curling with dislike.

" He's not. He's a relative, for certain, but like so many things, family is a condition of the mind. You choose who belongs in your family."

" Who's in yours?"

Draco smiled, " Right now? Just you. And just so you don't go attempting to be witty, I'm telling you now I'm not the 'little woman', got it?"

" Perish the thought," Harry said, an angelic tone at odds with the devilish glint in his eyes. " But you are in my family, then, since I get to pick. Along with my godfather, and Ron and Hermione."

" You sure you want all that sibling rivalry? I mean, think of the envy that I'll cause them."

Harry rolled his eyes. " Well, the position I'll give you in my family, is hardly one of brother, so it shouldn't be a problem. I'm sure they'll learn to live with it."

Draco became serious, " Will they? Do you think you'll tell them… that I'm here?"

" I'm not very good at keeping secrets," Harry replied. They held each other's gaze for a moment, before Harry broke in, " For instance, your breath reeks. Rule number one about going out clubbing, is that you brush your teeth immediately when you get back."

" Of all the nerve! At least I had the good sense to lie in the nice cosy bed – I bet you're freezing."

Harry's expression was admittance enough. He got to his feet, stretching tense neck muscles, and waiting for circulation to return to his legs. For the first time he registered that his knees were sore.

" Do me a favour, and do not mention to Mike that I have rather bad rug-burn on my knees?" Harry said, walking around to his side of the bed.

" Why would Mike care about… Oh," Draco said. The thought of what Harry was implying caused a slight blush to come over his features. Draco threw back the covers, and slipped from the bed.

" Where are you going?" Harry asked.

" Rule number one, remember?"

Draco brushed his teeth thoroughly, then flossed, then gargled mouthwash, before repeating the entire process over again.

" Bad breath indeed," Draco muttered indignantly. He then caught himself grinning as he recalled every delicious moment of the bedroom encounter. Who cares that he got a fist to the face, a kiss like that was more then worth it. A random thought caused him to frown slightly. Unless, Harry hadn't thought the kiss was all that special. Of course, he made Draco a member of his family, but had also accused him of bad breath. Had he been joking? What if he had slobbered or drooled or something? What if Harry simply had a sick and twisted attraction to bruised individuals? What if someone had slipped something into their drinks? Such paranoid worries kept Draco in the bathroom for quite some time.

When he finally crept silently back into the bedroom, Harry's back was to him. As he pulled back the blankets, Harry rolled over, and peered up at Draco sleepily.

" Something the matter?"

" Was it really that bad?"

" Huh? What?"

Draco stood, the edge of the blankets clutched white-knuckled in his hand, his head cocked slightly to the side, his entire posture tightly drawn. He looked a little bit fey-like, as though he would disappear at the first sudden gesture. He looked more then a little frail in his flannel pyjamas (that Harry had insisted he get, and that Draco secretly loved), with his broken face, and slender feet treading one against the other.

" Kissing. Was I bad at it?"

Harry smiled, pulling the blankets from Draco's fingers, and patting the bed in invitation. " Now who's being stupid? Get in before you freeze."

Draco climbed in gingerly, " So it was good, bad breath and all?"

" It was the best kiss I've ever had," Harry said sincerely. " Though there's still room for improvement. Practice is warranted: we'll have to do it over and over again, in every spare minute, at every opportunity, I'm afraid."

" Slave driver," Draco muttered. " And can I add that that is the cheesiest line I've ever been forced to listen to?"

" Can't hear you, I'm asleep," Harry said, pulling the blankets over himself and snuggling down. Draco yanked the blankets back.

" If you were asleep, your snoring would be rattling the walls by now."

" I do not snore!"

" Can't hear you, I'm asleep," Draco retorted smugly. They fought over the blankets for a moment, and as usual, Draco won. Just as they were falling asleep, Harry pressed a final kiss to Draco's temple.

" 'Night, Draco."

" Goodnight, Harry."

And it was a good night. A very good night.

Draco was humming. Actually humming, as he made breakfast. This was worth noting since Malfoy's, as a general rule, didn't hum. They also didn't laugh raucously, sing, or pull faces. Then again, when had a Malfoy last been this ecstatically happy? He hadn't bothered getting out of his pyjamas, and his only concession to facing the morning was that he had run a comb through his hair, and brushed his teeth: twice. Thick wool socks kept his feet warm, and every now and then, in homage to his spectacularly good mood, he would build-up a little momentum and slide on the linoleum. It was during one of his more enthusiastic slides that he went a little too fast, and would have toppled over into an undignified heap, had Harry not appeared and caught him.

" What have I told you about sliding in the house?" Harry said, mock sternly.

" Do it more often?" Draco replied impishly.

Harry touched the side of Draco's face lightly.

" It looks better. Does it still hurt?"

A tad breathlessly, Draco replied, " I don't know. Let's test it shall we?" He kissed the corner of Harry's mouth. " Nothing yet." He pressed his lips squarely over Harry's and let them linger, while Harry responded. " Looks like I'm cured."

" And you accuse me of cheesy lines," Harry chided, releasing Draco from his grip.

" Guilty," Draco said. The toaster popped, and Harry reached for the butter, spreading it thinly on both pieces of bread. They moved around the kitchen with an ease born of familiarity, setting the table, preparing the food, and pouring the coffee. When they were finished with breakfast, and were lingering in the cozy kitchen, Draco asked,

" What do we do today?"

" I was thinking we'd have a perfectly lazy Sunday. Read the paper, drink coffee, that sort of thing."

" So we're doing nothing?"

" Well… yeah. Unless you have something in mind?"

" A whole day with just you?" Draco said, and pretended to ponder things. " Occasionally, Harry, you really do have some good ideas."

Harry beamed, and Draco laughed. It seemed whatever had gone so well last night, had carried through to the morning. For it was shaping up to be a good day. A very good day.

I'd like reviews, but your threats will have to be very creative to faze me now. And hey, bribery always works wonders… See you next chapter!