Day 1

"I can't believe they're making me write this story," Harry Potter grumbled as he scrubbed the bathtub. "She should know by know that I value my privacy. And now I have a total stranger coming in to share my flat, my bathroom, and my effing bed!" Harry scrubbed harder to force the rage out into the bathtub, hoping to make the grime disappear. He ran the sponge furiously around the tub before he realized something important. "Fuck! It's probably a girl!"

As Harry finished cleaning the tub and rinsing the grime out, the doorbell rang, and the door opened.

"Harry! It's Hermione. Where are you? I thought I'd help you clean because I assisted your boss with this project." Hermione walked around the living room as Harry stepped out of the bathroom.

"You can clean the kitchen. No magic. The neighbors will find out, and then it will be my arse up at the Wizengamot." Harry stalked back into the bathroom to clean the sink.

Hermione smirked at his back and walked into the kitchen. She cast a version of the Muggle-Repelling charm before she proceeded to scourgify the room.

Harry was given the next two weeks off from work so that he could spend time with his new flatmate. His guest, whoever that was, was due to arrive at six. She (as Harry assumed his guest was) would be given some time to settle in and unpack before they headed out to dinner at seven.

At five, Harry and Hermione were done cleaning the bedroom and living room. Harry bid farewell to Hermione, although a bit sourly, before he showered and threw on some presentable clothing. Then Harry flopped onto the couch to watch television.

At six, the doorbell rang. Harry gathered up some manners (and some courage) before he opened the door.

His first reaction was that the man was bloody gorgeous.

His second reaction was to wonder why Draco Malfoy was standing on the stoop.

"Er...can I help you?" Harry asked politely, trying to keep his manners with him for when his guest arrived. "I'm sort of expecting someone, so I hope this doesn't take too long."

"You could help me carry my luggage. Your boss told me to pack for two weeks," Malfoy smirked at Harry.

Harry continued to stare for a long time.

"Or I could just carry them myself," Malfoy said, more to himself than to Harry.

Harry stepped out of the way, allowing the blonde man to enter the flat.

"Where do I take my stuff, Harry?"

Harry stared just a few moments longer before he appeared to snap out of it. "Bedroom is the first door on the left," Harry replied with some trepidation.

Malfoy looked at Harry, appearing somewhat injured, and confusing Harry to no end. "I'll be back once I've settled some."

Harry headed back into the kitchen and called Hermione at home. Unfortunately, he got the answering machine. "Hermione, I need to discuss my article and your role in 'assisting' my boss. Call me back, or I'll tell Ron what you've done."

Then Harry took a deep breath and went back to the bedroom. Malfoy was hanging clothes in the wardrobe when Harry entered the room. Since Malfoy had been so polite, Harry decided to return the favor.

"I apologize for my rude behavior earlier," Harry told his new flatmate in an overly polite manner. "I frankly was expecting a girl, so I was caught off guard when a man arrived on my doorstep. Especially you, because I know Hermione made the final decision for this position."

Malfoy smiled a small, but genuine, smile. "I appreciate your honesty, Harry. Will you help me unpack?"

Harry walked over and picked up a stack of clothes, ready to hang them on the rack he'd just cleared that morning. He'd almost gotten the clothes into the wardrobe, when Malfoy stopped him.

"You're hanging those in the wrong place! You have to organize by season, then by style, and finally by color!"

Harry stared again, but this time for a very different reason. "I'll just hand clothes to you then, and you can hang them up yourself."

"That's probably best, Harry." Malfoy replied, taking the clothes and organizing them in a way that made no sense to Harry.

It was only then that Harry noticed what Malfoy had been calling him all evening. "Umm...Malfoy? Why are you using my given name instead of my surname?" Harry questioned the blonde as they emptied the suitcases.

Malfoy shrugged, stacking more shirts onto a shelf. "It's your flat and your life that I'm interfering with. I'm just trying to make the whole thing easier for you."

Harry never noticed the way Malfoy refused to look him in the eye.

"But why are you being so nice to me?" Harry asked, still confused about the whole situation.

Malfoy looked at Harry, smiling softly. "Well, I know Granger kept her word. But I can't tell you now; it's not the right time."

And for the third time that night, Harry just looked at him, confusion etched plainly onto his face.

"Let's just go to dinner, Harry," Malfoy suggested with a slight smirk on his aristocratic face. "I can finish getting settled in when we return."

Harry looked skeptical, but he decided to go along with the idea. "Where do you want to eat?"

The mood all changed when Malfoy grinned wolfishly. "Harry, never ask a Malfoy where they want to eat, rather, ask them what they want to eat. That way, you don't get roped into paying for outlandishly expensive food. However, I would like to eat Italian."

Harry's eyebrows went up. "That seems to messy for you, but let's go. There's a good restaurant down the road a bit."

The young men threw on their jackets to protect against the autumn chill and left the flat.
They'd been walking in silence for a short time when Harry started the conversation once more.

"So I'm not the only one at Hogwarts to grow up a pouf?"

Malfoy laughed, surprising Harry. "Who wouldn't be a pouf when at age 11 he discovered that he had to marry either Pansy or Millicent? Well, unless of course I did turn out to be a pouf. Then I could marry Blaise, and even at 11 I knew I'd rather marry Blaise than Pansy."

Now it was Harry's turn to laugh. "Who wouldn't want to marry Blaise rather than Pansy, although, now Blaise has married into the Weasley clan."

"I was best man at their wedding, Harry," Malfoy replied levelly, rolling his eyes.

Harry, feeling rather dim, suddenly lost his train of thought, and conversation stopped for a few minutes. It wasn't until the young men were almost at the restaurant that Harry remembered something, causing him to slap his forehead in exasperation and stop walking.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Malfoy asked, concerned.

"I...it's just...you know this article is supposed to be about how well your friends can pick your date, right?" Harry managed to get out awkwardly.

"I was aware, yes," Malfoy seemed unsure as to where Harry was going on his train of thought.

"So then you understand that we're on...a date, essentially, for the next two weeks to see if we could be life partners?"

"Your boss mentioned it, yes."

Harry noticed how deflated Malfoy had become in the last five minutes, although he was very unsure as to why. "Sorry. It just seemed to slip my mind, for some reason. I guess I was getting along with you so well, I didn't feel like I was on a date."

"Huh?" Malfoy asked, oh-so intelligently.

Harry chuckled a bit. "Dates are always horribly awkward affairs for me. I can't ever think of anything to say; yet for some reason, this is going much smoother."

Harry held open the door for Malfoy as the two of them walked into the family-run Italian restaurant.

"Harry!" the hostess immediately greeted him. "We haven't seen you in forever! Nonna's been anxious to see you again."

"Tell her that I apologize, and I promise to be back a week from today," Harry responded imploringly.

The hostess laughed. "I'll be sure to let her know, and you can sit at your regular table." She handed Harry two menus, finally acknowledging Malfoy's presence with a wink and a smile.

Harry led the two of them to a table in the back corner, smiling softly to himself, glad the hostess hadn't made a fuss about Malfoy's presence.

"I wish you'd told me you're a regular here," Malfoy complained. "I could've made more of an effort to make conversation."

"It's best this way. Everyone who works here is in the same family. If she had even whispered another name in relation to mine, we'd have the whole staff out to greet us. I think she can tell we're still new, and she didn't want her family to scare you," Harry replied.

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. "Well, what do you recommend?"

When their food had been ordered, with a word to the waiter about discretion, conversation resumed.

"Well, you know I'm a staff reporter for a magazine. What do you do?" the green-eyed man questioned the blonde.

Malfoy smirked before he began to speak. "Well, I've been in charge of the Malfoy finances sine my father's arrest. I've also been trying to change the Malfoy image. I donate to many charities, and I've founded another to help under-privileged witches and wizards attend Hogwarts, be they purebloods or Muggle-borns. I am also trying to raise awareness about Slytherins amongst the other houses. Not everyone's greatest ambition is evil. Most of us have very normal goals; what sets us apart is our single-mindedness to achieve them," he replied, munching on a complimentary breadstick.

"What was your ambition?" Harry asked Malfoy.

Malfoy grinned. "As I haven't yet achieved it, there's no need for past tense. However, my goal is to get into the pants of the man of my dreams."

Something about Malfoy's look made Harry blush, though he didn't know what. Fortunately at that moment, their food arrived, giving Harry the kind of distraction he was looking for.

As they dug into their food, several more minutes were filled with the sounds of cutting, twirling, slurping, and chewing as the two men ate.

Finally, Harry thought of a question that could get the conversation rolling once more. "I hate to touch on a sensitive issue, but why did you switch sides?"

Again, Malfoy quirked his eyebrow at the Boy-Who-Lived. "Why'd I become Light? Support Dumbledore's crazy campaign? Give up many of my old friends and reject Voldemort's policies? It's simple: the man of my dreams is on the light side, and I didn't think he'd change sides for me; it's too big of an issue for the both of us for the two of us to be together without someone changing sides. Plus, who wants to be led by a hypocritical serial killer?"

Although Harry was curious as to whom Malfoy's dream man was, he knew better than to ask questions he didn't really want the answers to. Rather, Harry chose to focus his response in another direction. "That's one of the most accurate descriptions of Voldemort I've heard to date," he commented.

Harry pretended not to notice Malfoy noticing how Harry avoided the bulk of his answer.

"Well, I suppose there's no need to ask why you were on the light side, is there?" Malfoy joked. "And I'm going to assume that talking about why you live in the Muggle world is a sensitive issue. So what can we discuss?"

Harry was relieved that he would not be pressed for answers just then as he brainstormed for appropriate conversation topics. "My flat, to some degree, our food, this restaurant, and, if we don't discuss it too loudly, quidditch."

"Quidditch is acceptable, but not the current politics from where I'm from?" Malfoy again raise an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged. "Politics are boring, and I'm tired of hearing about the Cannons," Harry replied off-handedly.

Malfoy, however, looked aghast. "How can you be so flippant about the Cannons?!"

"Not you, too!" Harry groaned, very tempted to bang his head against the table or the wall behind him.

"Don't you take that tone when referring to the Cannons, Harry, or I will be forced to take drastic action." Malfoy was serious.

Harry rolled his eyes. "And I thought Ron was a big fan."

"He's a fan, too? Excellent. Makes it far easier to get along with him. And if that fails, I'll bribe him with tickets."

"I think the term 'fan' is an understatement. His room at the Burrow was blindingly orange. I cringe just thinking about it." And indeed, Harry winced.

Malfoy laughed. "I wish Father had let me decorate my room like that. I don't think I would've cared how badly orange clashes with my complexion," he sighed. Then quite suddenly, Malfoy yawned, stretched, and placed one arm around Harry's shoulder.

And, surprisingly enough, Harry said nothing. He rationalized this response by thinking about how polite Malfoy had been all evening and studiously ignored the traitorous thoughts that proceeded to inform Harry of how attractive Malfoy was.

The two quickly finished their meal, Draco now eating left-handed, as his right arm was indisposed.

"Check please," Draco called after their waiter, who was passing by. The waiter raised an eyebrow, but Draco just mimicked the movement in response.

The two men were soon leaving the restaurant and heading back to Harry's flat.

Back at the flat, the men finished unpacking, and Draco went to shower. Harry changed into his sleeping clothes, and he was about to climb into bed when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Harry, it's Ron. What's Hermione not telling me?"

"Nothing, Ron. But tell Hermione that the article isn't a complete disaster."

"What article? You never discuss your work with us!"

"And Ron? I'm gay."

"Gay? I know. Hermione told me ages ago."

"I figured. And Ron? Did you know that Malfoy is an avid Cannons fan?"

"No! How'd you find that out?"

"Never mind. I have to go; I have a guest. Ask Hermione about it. Bye Ron."

"Bye mate."

Harry walked back into the bedroom, where Draco was now reclining against the pillows, shirtless. He climbed into bed as Draco watched, embarrassing Harry to no end.

"What's the matter, Harry? It's as if you've never slept in the same bed with another man before."

"I haven't," Harry replied honestly, blushing harder.

Draco's eyes did something Harry didn't quite understand (for the nth time that evening). "I'm not going to bite you; it's your bed."

Harry crawled cautiously under the covers. He turned off the lamp, and they both tried to fall asleep. After many minutes, Harry spoke for a final time.

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Thanks. I was really worried that this would turn out to be the worst thing to ever happen, but it's turned out much better." Then Harry rolled onto his side, trying once more to fall asleep.

TBC....

Author's Note: I'm so sorry it took so long to update! I've actually had this written since before I posted the prologue, but I wanted to write a basic outline of the entire 2 weeks before I posted any more of the story.

Thanks so much to my beta, TheMan-EatingDustBunny, for all her hard work, and for patiently reading through all 7 pages of this.

Beta's Note: This also took so long to update because I was lazy and didn't read through all seven pages of this for quite some time. So blame me, not Herbie.

Thanks also to my faithful reviewers:

Julia Bartlett, Alesya, and aliba

Remember! Reviewing brings more chapters and good karma.