Draco Malfoy and His Happily Ever After:

Author's Notes: This is the sequel to Draco Malfoy and His Unknown Fate which I strongly recommend that you read before starting this. No, really. Please, please read that first. There are two scenes in this chapter, just so you know. A character makes an appearance at Black Cottage and plans are made! Go read it, already!

Warnings for this chapter: Language.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This is slash. Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.

The first thing Draco did the next day was claim the shed as his impromptu potions laboratory, appropriating Harry's cauldron and setting it up with his own on the long workbench that stretched down the whole left side of the small building. He skipped breakfast entirely, giving Harry the cold shoulder as he walked outside, scowling darkly at him. Draco spent the morning transferring the sheaves of loose parchment and numerous scrolls that served as his notes to the shed along with his lab rat Mortimer, who had been cowering in his school trunk in hopes that Draco's owl wouldn't eat him.

Sirius and Remus didn't seem to mind that the Slytherin had made himself at home in the least. In fact, Remus was aware that Draco had helped prepare the wolfsbane potion a time or two and he even went so far as to encourage Draco to further his potion making skills. By owling Mr. Jigger, Draco was able to purchase the necessary ingredients for his research, which he set up alphabetically on the shelves in the back.

Harry seemed a bit intimidated by Draco's workshop, wrinkling his nose up at the odd smells that had begun to emanate from the little wooden building and refusing to step foot inside it even though he was eager to reconcile with Draco. He loitered outside for a minute or two, watching Draco arrange the shed to his liking before he wandered off again reluctantly. The blonde could understand his hesitation; Harry had a distinct aversion to anything even remotely related to Severus Snape.

Well, aside from the Potions Master's prize pupil of course.

Draco was working on a potion to make the voice very high pitched and he had several other concoctions in mind that would be easy to make when the time came. In theory, at least. In practice, he would probably be slaving in front of a boiling cauldron for blocks of hours at a time attempting to get his potions perfect.

At the moment, he was barricading himself inside his laboratory, mostly in protest of his shoddy treatment last night. Honestly, was it that hard to stay awake for a bloody minute or two? Draco had to think that over, because surely he was selling himself short there. Okay, five minutes. That wasn't too much to ask and it was only fair to give as good as you got.

Harry seemed to realize the Slytherin was sulking and had left him to it. The Gryffindor sent uncertain glances his way for the rest of the morning whenever Draco entered the house on various errands. Mostly, Draco had ventured inside to fetch items necessary for his research that had slipped his mind until the last minute. Still upset, Draco had countered the other boy's glances with frosty silence. Sirius and Remus only exchanged long suffering looks at their teenage antics and went about their own business.

Surprisingly, the ex-convict was actually very busy, though Draco wasn't quite certain with what. The Slytherin shrugged it off as stuff for Dumbledore and kept his curiosity under control, because frankly he was quite busy enough without poking his nose into anyone else's business.

Plus, it was much more fun to make little pouty faces that he knew made Harry feel every inch the cad he was. He reemerged from his lab at noon to partake of lunch, which mostly consisted of sandwiches and a light chicken broth, giving the other boy the silent treatment the whole entire time, while pointedly making polite conversation with Lupin and Black. It was driving Harry spare and Draco had to work extra hard to keep a smile off his face at the frustrated, slightly guilty looks the Gryffindor persisted in throwing his way every other minute. The majority of Draco's indignance had faded due to his utter fascination with his current potions project. He kept up the charade anyway. It was the principal of the thing after all.

Finally, Remus got fed up with the whole situation and shooed them out of the kitchen together, asking Sirius to help him clean up and leaving the boys to talk amongst themselves. Draco brushed crumbs off the front of his robe and turned without a word for the door. "Draco!"

"Yes?" He inquired with stiff politeness, not even bothering to turn around.

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you like that last night. I was just so bloody sleepy. Forgive me?" Harry sounded so apologetic and hopeful there was no way he felt anything but sincerely sorry.

Draco turned smoothly, the hem of his robes swishing around his ankles. He raised one eyebrow as he spoke. "I accept your apology." The corner of his mouth tugged up into a wicked smirk. "But don't think I'll forget it. Just remember, payback's a bitch Potter and I still get to ask you for anything I want." He sauntered out, satisfied at having the last word, while Harry watched him leave.

He caught the other boy's last apprehensive words before the door shut. "Why do I get the feeling I'm in for it?"

Draco laughed to himself as he strolled out to the shed with a jaunty little bounce in his step. "Oh, Harry, Harry. You have no idea."

*

"Two cups of a water and one cup squid ink. A dash of flour. Two bat wings, finely sliced. Twenty three mouse whiskers. 5 spoonfuls of Banshee blood." Draco read out loud as he carefully put the ingredients into the cauldron, checking back with the scroll each time. "And half a cup of oil rendered from the fat of a dolphin." The slightly pungent liquid was poured in last, swirling over the surface of the other fluids before sinking to the bottom of the cauldron. "And let it simmer for two days before the next step. Hm. Okay then." Draco cast a quick heating charm and began tidying up his workbench. The Slytherin was always meticulous when it came to his potions and materials.

"Well, what do you know, it's the ickle Potions Master."

Draco whirled, his dirty measuring spoon still in hand. "Pansy?" He asked incredulously, staring at the girl as if expecting her to vanish any moment. "What are you doing here?"

She smirked and hopped up on a nearby stool, scrutinizing the shed as she replied. "I've come to give you your birthday present of course. Remember? I promised to buy you a whole new wardrobe. I owled Black and Lupin and they agreed to the trip as long as they could chaperone us. So that means Potter can come too! We can get rid of those horrendous rags of his while we're at it. What do you say?"

"You're lucky I came to a reasonable stopping point in my research." Draco grouched, aiming a quick clean-up spell at the counter top. In moments it was polished to a shine, all drips and bits of left-over ingredients gone without a trace. "Okay. Let me just get dressed in something acceptable and we'll be off."

"Of course, Draco. You might want to do something with your hair too." Pansy hinted, baring her teeth in what could possibly have passed for a smile. You know, if you were blind.

"There is nothing wrong with my hair Parkinson. And don't fiddle with my stirring rods."

They exited the shed, Draco leading the way. "I wasn't fiddling. I was rearranging them."

"You were fiddling." He said with stern finality before switching subjects deftly. "And besides, you're just jealous that my hair would make a Veela swoon in admiration."

"Swoon? I think not."

"I think so." He countered with a smirk, opening the door for her. She slipped by him quickly, stepping inside the cottage. "Remember the Quidditch World Cup where Father introduced me to Krum? All the Bulgarian Veelas swarmed me. It wouldn't have been so bad if that one hadn't crushed my face against her breasts when she hugged me. I almost suffocated."

"Poor baby." Pansy cooed with false sympathy. "You must have been traumatized for life. That certainly puts your fondness for. Ahem. Broomsticks in a new light."

"Oh go snog a Hufflepuff." Draco said scornfully, making his way down the hall.

"Well, there was that one time with. No, no. He was a Ravenclaw, wasn't he?" Pansy murmured thoughtfully to herself, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her lips.

Draco laughed, unable to help himself, and led the way into his room. "Harry." He greeted cordially, moving towards his trunk. "Pansy's here." He announced, opening the lid and rummaging through the contents in search of something to wear.

"Yeah, I know. Sirius said we were going shopping." The Gryffindor said this with all the enthusiasm of a convicted criminal headed for the gallows.

Pansy smiled brightly and sat down on the edge of the desk where Harry was finishing up a letter to Hermione. "Hello, Harry. May I call you Harry?"

"Um. Sure." Draco hid a smile at the other boy's apprehensive tone and picked out a pair of nice black trousers and a thin, white silk shirt along with his black dragon hide boots. He shrugged out of his light summer robes and pulled off the white cotton undershirt he was wearing. "Draco! What are you doing!" The Gryffindor hissed, scandalized.

The blonde turned, puzzled, his hand still outstretched as he reached for the other shirt. "Getting dressed. What? Oh, Pansy? Don't worry about her. I've known her since I was seven, Harry. She's seen it before, trust me." He turned back around, shaking his head at Harry's foolishness.

"He's right." Pansy said helpfully, crossing her legs. "He went through a stage when he was eight where he refused to wear clothes. Something about being a wood nymph, I believe. He must have spent half the year streaking past his father's guests in the gardens. I believe the whole Ministry was aware of his penchant for nudity by the time he finally grew out of it."

Harry started snickering uncontrollably. "Shut up." Draco sulked, buttoning up the shirt except for the last two near his throat. "Or need I remind you of the time you tried to be a medium and ended up setting all your family ghosts on us?" The trousers were next and he slipped into them quickly, stomping his feet inside his boots afterwards in protest of his lover's laughter. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbow quickly, scowling all the while.

"Well, Draco. We may both screamed like little girls, but you're forgetting I actually was one at the time. I have nothing to be ashamed of." She sniffed.

Draco brought out his last resort. "Don't make me mention the time you tried to cut your own hair." The young Parkinson girl had ended up with a lopsided Mohawk when she was eight after a botched attempt at giving herself a makeover. It had been so bad it had actually made her mother faint in horror.

"Fine, fine. Are you ready yet?"

Draco put a little bit of hair gel in his white-blonde locks and smoothed his hair back. It wasn't plastered to his head, but it would keep out of his face nonetheless. "Yes. Harry, what about you?"

"Oh, I've been ready." He was wearing a big, loose gray T-Shirt and brown corduroy jeans that were frayed at the ends and belted tightly around his waist to keep them from slipping off. Both Slytherins eyed his ensemble distastefully. "What?" Harry asked defensively, his broad shoulder's hunching slightly under their scrutiny.

"Those aren't clothes, love. They're rubbish masquerading as clothes. House-elves wouldn't touch those."

Harry's chin out indignantly, making the tiny cleft on it more prominent. It was an expression Draco was intimately familiar with. The Gryffindor always did that when he was being stubborn, which was actually quite often. "Hey! They would so!"

"That still doesn't help your case." Pansy pointed out, sliding off the desk. "Are you boys done now? I want to get out there before it's crowded."

"C'mon, Harry. You don't want to get in Pansy's way when it comes to shopping." He slipped his arm around the other boy's waist and was rewarded with an exuberant smile for the openly affectionate gesture. Draco smiled back and squeezed his waist, silently forgiving Harry for his bad timing last night. The Gryffindor's green eyes brightened cheerfully and the way they lingered on Draco's face was almost a caress in and of itself.

Forgotten for the moment, Pansy watched them and tapped her foot impatiently before speaking up. "You can sit there mooning over each other or you can follow me. Here's a hint. Only one will land you in St. Mungo's Extensive Care Unit." She gave them a fierce warning look and turned to sweep out the door.

"We're right behind you!" Harry said hastily as the two boys hurried after her.

Nothing, it seemed, was quite as terrifying as a Slytherin girl determined to go on a shopping spree.

To Be Continued…

Constructive criticism and comments are more than welcome.