Cool, a harry potter fanfic

Cool

By Tashasaphi.

A songfic based on lyrics from Gwen Stefani's 'Cool'

A/N

Oisu!

Yes, this is Tashasaphi. No this is not penndragonne, or anything remotely like Penndragonne. Except it's H/D, which I suppose is a parallel, but hey. I have to admit to rather ignoring songfics in the past. The song gets a bit in the way of what's going on. Then James-chan showed me her fics. And suddenly I got creative. I've got loads of these little one-shot lovelies lined up, for filling in the unholy gaps between penndragonne episodes. I probably spent a total of six hours on this, between one evening and following morning. I don't know why it's so long. It also doesn't read like any songfics I've read. Maybe I did it wrong.

Bah. Who cares? Review and I'll send you Draco's Mocha mug.

(Oh, and this is a one shot. However... I MIGHT be tempted to do a sequel if someone suggested the right song XD)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Cool', Gwen Stefani, the Harry Potter franchise, the characters Harry or Draco. If I did I'd be a lot more famous and a lot more rich.

Thanks to: Inspirer to write song fics, Jamesriplily and my beta, madeddie All anger at Typos or at the unholiness of songfics (or at delaying PD14 by a day) can be directed directly at them. HA HA.

Ps- If I get kicked off for for this, I can be found as Tashasaphi at Adult Fanfiction. LUV!

It's hard to remember how it felt before

Now I found the love of my life

Passes things, get more comfortable

Everything is going right

Harry sighed, swirling the milk into his tea with a spoon. A band of gold glinted in the afternoon sunlight, drifting in across the sea. He was getting away from it all, taking a break. And Ginny was fine with that. She understood the pressures he was under. She understood why he needed this time alone. And while he was off enjoying himself in the tiny little village, nestled in the cliffs beside the warm sea, she could get on with the planning and the organising. His hotel room had a floo. She knew how to reach him if he needed to be consulted. In the mean time, the tiny old lady and her daughter who ran the quaint little cafe and hotel made a mean cup of Tetley's.

Sighing again, he gazed out across the ocean, squinting a little as rays of burnished gold settled on his tanned skin and glinted of his glasses. The sky was clear. The sea was calm. All the stress and hubbub of London life was leaving him. He was here for a whole week. He was going to be putty by the time he got home. And he was relishing it.

The cafe was quiet. It wasn't a busy sort a village. During the days, you might spot a few farmers out to trade their wares, or a few wizards shirking them to head to secret favoured apothecaries and stores stocking owls and rare hawks that did their jobs, only more recklessly, and generally faster. The cafe was quiet tonight, with only himself, two couples, and another man there. The two couples were having private meals, and the pair who were staying at the hotel were a sweet muggle couple, just married, enjoying a secluded honeymoon getaway. Harry smiled at the thought. Ginny had demanded Mongolia for their trip. Secluded, yes. Relaxing, he sincerely doubted. Ahh well, he had the rest of the week to himself. Peace and quiet, fresh sea air, and-

Oh my god.

Was that-... no...

Across the cafe, the other man who, like Harry, was sitting on his own, was reading through a pile of letters, chin leant on one hand in aristocratic laziness, the other sprinkling more chocolate on his mocha. A long dark grey suede jacket was hung over the back of his chair, complimenting the cream combats and the dove grey turtleneck clinging almost illicitly to the svelte frame. This man was the bane of Cornelius Fudge's existence. So blatantly dark that he had to be a Death Eater, but irritatingly without conviction or a Dark Mark. Harry felt a flutter behind his ribs. If Nymphadora Tonks was really so set on Remus Lupin, she would have realised the man was hopelessly homosexual and would have metamorphed into the vision of the man who was sitting across from Harry in an instant. The vision of perfection in masculine beauty. Harry swallowed hard. The wolf man would have been a puppy in her lap.

Draco. It had been so long.

And after all the obstacles

It's good to see you now with someone else

Harry felt his mouth grow dry, and immediately hung his head, hunching shoulders and trying to make himself invisible.

Oh, he remembered Draco.

The pale, thin, pointy little oik in Madame Malkins. The brat who never forgave him for refusing the snooty personage his friendship, and made it his personal vendetta to get Harry back for it. The boy who had bounced against the ceiling in ferret form in Fourth Year. The boy who had revelled in his torture at the hands of Umbridge in Fifth Year. The pale, weak, frail, terrified young man who had earned his pity in Sixth Year. The one who had taken him a roller coaster of emotions for the two years following. The one who had taken him to new planes of existence in a millisecond of divine pleasure whenever he had desired. The one who had listened, even when Hermione and Ron weren't hearing him. The one who had cast him aside, tears streaming down those pale contours in a way that alarmingly still haunted Harry's most trying moments, before vanishing into obscurity.

Oh, he remembered Draco alright.

Why the bloody hell was he here! This town was a tiny little speck on some quaint insignificant coastline. Malfoy belonged amongst the class of Paris, the mad frivolous carnivals of New Orleans or lost in the wonder of Venice. Not in the Styx on the edge of some crumbly cliff where the roads were dirt or at best exposed stone. It. Did. Not. Make. Sense.

Harry angrily stirred his tea, feeling a throbbing angsty migraine burning at the corners of his consciousness. The little old lady's daughter, Cosette, bobbed past, wiping down some of the tables. She glanced at Harry with worry.

'Are you alright, Mister Potter?' She asked warmly, in the local dialect.

'Fine,' Harry responded, smiling at her reassuringly. 'But I think I'm done for tonight. Charge the drinks to my rooms, please. I'll pay for them later.'

'Of course,' Cosette answered, winding her way through the tiny twin tables, back to the bar and kitchen. Harry groaned, running hands through his dark, tufty hair, before casting one last look in the direction of the mysterious intruder on his secluded getaway, only to find him locking eyes with swirling metallic ice, warmed curiously and softened by the shock painted on an angel's face. Cautiously, after a few moments of mutual staring, Malfoy raised a slender hand, tucking a straying lock of feather light hair behind an ear in an action that Harry remembered, with a pang, signified that he had been caught off guard, was perhaps a little nervous, but most definitely unsure of himself.

Granted, it didn't happen very often.

'Hello Harry,' he mouthed across the cafe, mouth closing primly, his face softening into an almost welcoming, lazy smile. Mercury lashes laced a halo around perfect half lidded eyes, and Harry trod on his own foot to stop it all flooding back.

'Hello yourself,' Harry mouthed back, forcing a cheeky, winning smile to flood his features. Malfoy's smiled widened, showing a trace of teeth.

He was being genuine. Teeth were reserved for those savoured moments when he could be himself.

Draco looked around the cafe, before glancing back at Harry.

'Well, bring yourself over here, then,' he breathed, and Harry could pick up the soft velvet of his voice in that breath, perhaps smoothed to satin by a soft French purr.

He was not going to let himself fall again. However, a cup of tea with an old schoolmate sounded like a fab idea.

And it's such a miracle that you and me are still good friends

Harry tucked in his chair as Draco folded his letter back into its envelope, prim and neat and organised and proper. Once again, everything seemed sickening samey.

'My oh my,' Draco managed, sounding almost flustered at having to speak. 'It's been too long, Harry. I haven't seen you since-'

'The Ball on the Summer Solstice,' Harry offered flatly. Draco blinked twice, before bowing his head, laughing abashedly. Harry knew this Draco. This Draco had done something wrong, and although he would never admit it, he was making it as clear as he could that he wasn't exactly proud of himself.

'It has been a long time,' he said calmly, looking back up again. 'I certainly wasn't expecting to meet anyone familiar here.' He smiled, and in the candle light he looked tired. 'That's why I chose it.'

'Same here,' Harry replied shortly, drinking his tea and placing it between them as an invisible barrier. Draco collected up his mug with both hands, lifting it to his lips for a single silent sip before placing it back down with care and precision.

Draco took care and precision in everything he did. Harry knew now that Draco had been planning and perfecting that emotional farewell spiel for a good two days before delivering it to him.

'You look well,' Harry said quickly, to break the silence. He didn't want to leave here tonight angry or sad or regretting anything.

He wanted to know that enigmatic Slytherin boy again.

'What have you been up to?' he continued. Draco smiled slyly, and Harry was shocked to see that he had the faintest of tans.

'Oh, not much,' Draco mused, voice definitely lost in some foreign tongue. 'I've been spending a lot of time in Paris. Of course, some of it is undesirable, but there are so many places to see. So many people to meet. It's a wonderful city.'

'If you speak French,' Harry noted. Draco smiled.

'That helps,' he purred. Harry returned the smile. Draco sighed, flicking some lint off the table. Neat freak, Harry thought, playfully.

'I saw your match in Lille in April,' Draco informed him, head tilted to one side. 'I should have guessed you'd end up as a seeker. You need to find a better team though.'

'The Warriors are a perfectly good team, Malfoy.'

'They rely on their star seeker too much,' Draco explain, examining his fingernails, and it was Madam Puddifoots all over again, Draco lounging in the afternoon light on his little iron chair, explaining to Harry all the faults of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Harry swallowed.

'How so?' he asked firmly. Draco sighed.

'Who exactly is going to barge The-Boy-Who-Trounced-The-Dark-Lord? I was there watching, Potter. Lille are a good team, but they're not the best. There is more talent on the Warriors side, but they're not using it because they know that no seeker alive is going to even try to catch the snitch when Potter's on the field.' He sounded almost naturally foreign, save for that slight bite of English drawl. 'It's pure slovenliness on their part.'

'Maybe a seeker who's not afraid to barge me needs to get back into the game,' Harry suggested jokily. Draco scoffed, taking another drink from his cup.

After all that we've been through

I know we're cool

'Have you been playing any quidditch?'

'Me?' Draco sounded incredulous. 'Only for fun. Sometimes talented people have to settle for not being paid for their exploits.' Harry rolled his eyes. 'Perhaps... oh I don't know... once or twice a month? We go out to somewhere secluded and have a quick game. Pascal is an excellent Keeper.'

'Pascal?'

'Oh, a friend from work,' Draco batted his hand dismissively. 'He works in the politics department. Loathes it.'

'What are you doing with yourself these days?' Harry felt nothing as he asked these questions. They were so rudimentary. Forty year old women who bumped into each other on the high street used this time honoured pattern of conversation, waved goodbye cheerily, and then bitched about each other later. That was not what Harry wanted. That was not what Harry wanted at all.

'Nothing much,' Draco mused, stirring the mocha. It gave off a sultry aroma, the smell of bed sheets Harry had once shared...

'Nothing much?'

'That's what I said,' Draco smirked. 'I write a column for ... It's a bit like your Daily Prophet, only classier.' Draco's smirk flashed a little of those straight white teeth. 'And it holds me in far higher esteem.' Harry laughed, and it was honest. He felt a little better about himself.

'Surely a weekly column isn't funding that lifestyle I remember,' he almost winced, but when Draco didn't react with anything more than a reassuring smile he continued. 'Still funded by the 'rents?' Draco shook his head gently.

'Non,' he said, before blushing a little. 'I mean no. Isn't it funny how one confuses the simplest of words sometimes?' Harry had never suffered from that problem himself, but Draco had been living abroad for nearly five years solid. If he had made any visits home, Harry knew that Narcissa Malfoy spoke fluent French, and she probably had little trouble conversing with him in a language he was now clearly more used to. What was funnier was Draco blushing. Granted, it was just the tiniest flush on alabaster cheeks, but it was purity that Harry secretly relished.

'My great uncle Tiberius,' Draco continued. 'I don't suppose you would have heard of him. Anyway, he passed away shortly after I moved to Paris.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Not at all. He was a very old man. He died happy, so I am glad for him.' Draco shook his head a little. When his hair had been that little bit shorter, Harry used to mistake it for him trying to get tendrils of hair out of his eyes. However, he had worked out that it was just something Draco did if he ever strayed off topic to mentally return himself to the conversation at hand. 'I was his sole heir. He didn't have any children, and he was best acquainted with me, I suppose.'

'So you've been living off the inheritance?'

'Mainly. It's a sizable amount of money, as well as real estate. I wouldn't be living in a penthouse in St Germain if I was relying on my wages.' He looked at Harry. 'As for the Malfoy fortune,' he said, pre-empting Harry's next question, 'most of it is locked away in my private vault at Gringotts. However, my mother is using a sizable portion to fund her own lifestyle.' He smiled wanly. 'That is a woman it is not well advised to separate from money.' Harry laughed again.

We used to think it was impossible

Now you call me by my new last name

Draco looked down at Harry's hand as he took another draft of his coffee.

'Oh!' He said, honestly surprised. Harry was mortified. Draco had changed so much. Mentally, he shook his head. No. Draco hadn't changed at all. Draco was a confident, but wary person. He liked Harry, but it had been a stupidly long time. He was going to hide behind this front for as long as he felt necessary. Until he felt assured that he knew Harry again. Until he felt sure nothing had changed, when everything was different.

'Are you engaged?' Draco asked calmly. Some part of Harry thought gleefully that he'd heard an edge of jealously in that even purr.

'Yeah,' Harry said, twisting the ring. 'I'm getting married in September.'

'Soon, then,' Draco mused, eyes engaging Harry's once more. 'And the soon-to-be Mrs Potter is...?'

'G-Ginny Weasley,' Harry said, and wondered why he felt a pang of shame. Ginny was bright, intelligent and beautiful. She had a sharp tongue and oodles of wit. She now wrote for the sports section of the prophet, but Harry knew she desperately wanted to play Quidditch again. She was an incredible woman.

'Ronald's sister?' Draco asked, and Harry nearly fumed when he saw the sparks in those silvery eyes. Draco was amused. To him, Harry was convinced it seemed as if Harry had had so much trouble dating that his best friend had to set him up with his sister to sort the lonely bastard out.

The most irritating thing was that Draco had only just missed the mark. Hermione had set Ginny and Harry three years back.

'Yes,' Harry said, trying to cover up his terseness.

'I have to admit to having never become properly acquainted with her,' Draco said flatly, he too trying to stem his emotions. 'I'm sure she's lovely.'

'She's an amazing woman.'

'She'd have to be,' Draco said softly, glancing at Harry. There was a promise of something past in his eyes, and it made Harry's stomach flip.

Memories seem like so long ago

Time always kills the pain

'You're not married, are you?' Harry asked, almost tentatively. If it was Pansy Parkinson, he might scream.

'Me?' Draco spluttered. 'Harry, you know better than anyone that I couldn't be straight if you tied me to a ruler.' Again with the stomach flopping. He really ought to get that checked out.

'B-boyfriend then?'

'No,' Draco said, but it was tentative and drawn out. 'I have... many friends in Paris.'

Dear God. How typical of Malfoy. He couldn't be happy with one fucktoy. He had gone and gotten himself a Harem.

'Oh... I'm sure that's nice,' Harry said, trying not to sound too envious. He kept telling himself he had gotten over the gay phase. However, today of all days, his reason seemed to have taken a holiday.

'Very nice,' Draco said, trying not to sound too wistful and failing. 'You know, if you're interested, you can spend a "stag" getaway in Paris with us. I'm sure it could be fun.'

'Thanks for the offer,' Harry said quickly. 'But I'm straight.' Draco looked almost hurt.

'Hrrm,' he murmured, before pinning Harry with that smouldering yet icy gaze. 'You could have fooled me.'

Remember Harbour Boulevard

The dreaming days where the mess was made

Look how all the kids have grown, oh

We have changed but we're still the same

The sun had almost set. One of the couples had left, and two men had come in to talk to Cosette. The other couple were on dessert. Draco had treated Harry to another pot of tea, whilst he had port. As the clock struck eight, they were laughing.

'I honestly don't remember doing that,' Draco said, trying to quell his snickers.

'Oh you did, Malfoy,' Harry confirmed. 'And Snape stared at you like you'd grown tentacles and passed out-'

'Right into the soup tureen, I remember now!' Draco's eyes were aflame with a white, sparkly fire that entranced like a Veela's dancing, but with more purity and feeling than one of those bints could muster any day.

'And McGonagall had to fish him out!'

'I honestly can't believe you made me do that,' Draco frowned, looking the image of a petulant boy again. 'In front of everyone. And on Christmas Eve, too. Severus changed my present at the last minute, he was so cross.' Harry sighed, trying to stop laughing.

'I can't believe you did it,' Harry chuckled. 'I really thought you'd chicken out.'

'And give up my Christmas morning sex?' Draco pouted, and Harry choked on his tea. 'You really do underestimate your skills, Harry.' Harry didn't respond, colouring. Draco's hand was suddenly over his own, cool against his skin, but soft, manicured, perfect. He stiffened a little.

'There's no need to be embarrassed about it, Harry,' Draco said, genuine. 'Yes, it's over. Yes, it's been over for a long time. Now you're off being straight and engaged and I'm being the reckless rich playboy you and everyone else suspected I would be.'

'Actually, everyone thought you were going to be a death eater,' Harry added. Draco flatly ignored him.

'The point is, it all happened. There's no changing that, but then again, there's no reason to be haunted by it.' His eyes met with Harry's, readable, open, glowing. 'I don't regret a single moment of our time together.' He smiled, and it was a beckoning. 'How could I? The question you need to answer Harry, is whether you do or not.' Draco cocked his head a little, and candlelight sent rivulets of fire down the sculpted hollows of his throat. 'Well, Harry? Do you regret our time together? Do you?' Harry thought about it.

'No,' he said finally, and it was if a clamp has been lifted off his lungs, and he could breathe freely again. 'I don't regret a thing. How could I?' Draco smiled softly at the echo. Filthy Temptress, Harry growled mentally.

'It's so strange,' Draco sighed suddenly, breaking the sudden palpable tension of Harry's admission. 'In my mind, you're still fresh from Hogwarts, thinking about signing up for auror training and still so insecure of himself and his world that he'd never leave the house without spending about ten minutes on protection charms.' Draco raised an eyebrow, puffing air. 'How much we've grown.'

'It's only disillusionment now,' Harry said bluntly. 'And aurors are a bit of a joke at the moment. With the entire inner circle of death eaters dead or in Azkaban, everything's dead quiet. They're back to dealing with spitting dustbins and hex-happy teenagers.' Draco nodded, and that hopeful side of Harry that just wouldn't bog off and get over it thought it saw a flash of wistful longing in those shadowy mercury depths.

'Do you still not apparate?' Draco asked softly, swirling the last mouthful of the red liquid around his glass.

'Not if I can possibly avoid it, no.' Draco smiled.

'Ahh. It's good to see some things never change.'

After all that we've been through

I know we're cool

'You seemed flustered,' Draco said quickly after another awkward silence. 'Are you alright?'

'Fine,' Harry said with conviction. 'Really good.' Draco's eyes darkened.

'Why do you see the need to lie to me?' He asked coolly. 'I'd hoped at least that had changed. Especially now you're to be married. Marriages have to be based on trust, you know.'

'I... sorry, Draco.'

'It's alright,' he eased, running a hand through gossamer strands of ivory in a moment of stress relief. 'I shouldn't have snapped.'

Since when did Malfoys apologise for things like that!

Yeah, I know we're cool

'So what do you do when you're not preoccupied with work or your "friends"?' Harry asked playfully. It was nine thirty. Both men had relaxed substantially in each other's company. It was an unspoken rule that they weren't going to discuss the past for now. There were obviously too many loose ends.

Draco was laughing. Why wasn't Ginny that beautiful when she was laughing?

'You really don't mince your words, do you?' Draco chuckled, leaning his face on his hand.

'I make it a point not to. Saves time and confusion.' Draco laughed again.

'Well... I play the piano a lot,' Draco confessed.

'Muggle instruments. Doesn't sound like you, Malfoy.'

'Oh sod off, Potter,' Draco pouted, voice sounding decidedly British. 'And no, it's not. My one plays orchestral accompaniment for you if you want it to. It's sometimes nice to bang out a bit of Grieg: Peer Gynt on a rainy day. It can be miserable in Paris when it's raining. Unless, of course, you can tuck yourself inside a cafe with a good book.' Draco seemed the shivered in pleasure. 'I love doing that,' he purred.

'So piano and cafe hopping?' Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

'I do love coffee,' Draco shrugged, smiling. His turtleneck moved with him, tempting. 'I go riding sometimes. One of the estates my Great Uncle left me has a stables.' He cut Harry off before he could speak. 'No, not horses, Potter, Pegasi. I'm not entirely absorbed in muggle culture, thank you very much.'

'Wouldn't dream of suggesting it,' Harry smirked.

And I'll be happy for you

If you can be happy for me

'A mid wedding planning getaway, hrm?' Draco drawled. 'Stress that bad?'

'I'm marrying a Weasley. I've got 6 soon-to-be brothers-in-law breathing down my neck to get it right or burn at the stake. I've got Molly and Fleur fighting over decorations until three in the morning. Arthur's panicking about the guest list- he doesn't understand that I'm not inviting my muggle relatives, they REALLY couldn't give a damn- and Ginny... well she's just in a tizzy over dresses with her gaggle of bridesmaids.' Harry sighed. 'I never would have believed it, but Hermione's the worst. I pity Ron when he finally pops the question.'

'Urgh,' Draco crinkled his nose. It was adorable and honest of him. Harry knew why this Draco seemed foreign. This was the Draco of six years ago, the Draco that slept beside him, soothing away the nightmares with soft, possessive kisses and reassuring touches of cool fingertips on warm skin.

This was the Draco he'd fallen in love with. This was the Draco he'd never really stopped loving.

He had prayed that Draco had died with their relationship, that he had sunk back inside that aloof shell and hidden behind the asshole until another Harry Potter came along to wake him up again.

Which, secretly, Harry had hoped would never happen. He blamed his damn Gryffindor sense of rightness.

'What are you doing here, then?' Harry asked. 'Apart from avoiding familiar faces, of course?' He smiled. 'Sorry for ruining that.' Draco shook his head.

'Not at all,' he said. 'I can't think of anyone in world other than you I could spend three hours chatting in a cafe with.' He paused. 'Well, anyone who wouldn't have bored me or spent that time propositioning me for sex or to testify against supposed death eaters I've never heard of.' He sounded vaguely bitter, and Harry sympathised. More than that, he wanted to raise his hand and stroke away those cares from those delicate features and brush those ivory strands away to reveal the true and full beauty of those shimmering pools of moonlight.

Of course, he was a very stubborn person. And so, while the inner Harry ranted and raged and begged and pleaded, his hands remained folded under his elbows as he leaned upon the table.

Besides, Malfoy's eyes were potent enough as it was.

'The real reason I'm here is...' he paused, looking a little troubled. But he quashed it quickly, and hid it behind his relaxed façade. 'I'm avoiding a few people.'

'Avoiding?' Harry asked, masking his concern. 'Like who?'

'Like...' Draco paused, wetting his lips. Again Harry crushed his rebelling side with an iron fist, and forced his leg to stop jiggling. 'Well, for a start, my mother. She keeps summoning me home, and I know it's not for anything important.' Draco rolled his eyes. 'I've told her time and time again that she can use as much money as necessary for estate upkeep. I just need the report sent to me when it's done.' Draco laughed. 'However, mothers will be mothers. I go and see her six, maybe seven times a year. She just gets... petulant when I'm not home for the seasonal holidays.' Draco captured Harry with his glance. 'You're with me on this, I'm sure, Potter. We're 24 years old, for Merlin's sake. We go out with friends for most of the holidays. We go out and party until unholy o'clock and then come home, totally and utterly incoherently inebriated and crash for two days.'

The rebellious Harry added another page to his very convincing argument. Malfoys really knew how to party. Last time he had been out to a party had been with Ginny. She'd abandoned him and gone off with her mates. He'd sat at the bar, teetotal since he was flying her home, bored out of his skull and ignored for five hours by civilisation. The images that were flashing through his mind of Parisian rich kids throwing a party were becoming mighty tempting.

Damn it.

'She doesn't understand that I can't just bring a friend home and spend the Solstice with her,' Draco nearly snapped. 'That would be depriving him as much as it would me.' He sighed heavily. 'Anyway, I don't go and she gets uppity. So, I'm ignoring her and vanishing for a few days.'

'Sounds fair,' Harry managed. Draco sighed, leaning back in his chair and stretching.

And it all came flooding back.

Arching backs, slow languid, luscious movements, together, entwined in one another, frantic gasps and breathed, lust-filled words, gentle touches in secret places that only each other knew, nips, bites, licks, trembling kisses, passion, fire, love.

Love.

Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

Gryffindor resolve held, but Harry knew it was failing. He'd never been straight. Ginny was a tomboy, and he loved her dearly, that was why she qualified. It was the same with Cho Chang. Flat chest, slight curves, harsh angles on a female body, all bundled up in unisex quidditch gear.

He wanted Draco. He wanted everything he could remember and he wanted more. And he wanted it right now across this bloody tiny table with everyone watching.

But Gryffindor resolve held. And he said nothing.

Circles and triangles

And now we're hanging out with your new girlfriend

So far from where we've been

'You said people,' Harry said quietly. The music was still playing in the background. Cosette and her mother had left them to it, going to relax in the lounge just round the corner. Draco frowned.

'Yes,' he muttered. 'There are other people I'm trying to avoid.'

'Like who?' Harry asked. Draco turned his head slightly away. A sudden rush of protectiveness flooded him, and he wanted to throw Draco behind him and fight off these demons with the Sword of Gryffindor flaming in his grasp.

'Like...' Draco paused, looking at Harry, unsure. 'Some of my friends.'

Ah.

'They were becoming possessive,' he said flatly, leaning on the table with his elbows, one hand clasping the other wrist. Closed up. 'They'd fight amongst each other and it was getting stupid. I told them to back off, that I wasn't interested, but you know how some people just don't listen.' He turned his head, and his hair shifted, and Harry, with horror, shot his hand across the table and grabbed him by the chin.

'Potter!' Malfoy exclaimed, affronted. Harry ignored him, sweeping back the other man's hair, trying to ignore the gossamer light feel of silk running through his fingers. Draco closed his eyes, resigned to this touching. Harry run his hands over the darkened spot, and Draco winced.

'Did they do that?' he asked, and couldn't mask his anger.

'People do stupid things when they're angry,' Draco said, eyes down. Without even checking for muggles, Harry got out his wand, holding back Draco's hair with the other. He muttered a healing charm, and the angry split skin meshed together, the bruise fading into nothingness.

'Thank you,' Draco said quietly. 'I was never any good at healing spells. I was afraid I'd hex half my hair off.' Harry chuckled gently, reassuringly, and let Draco's hair fall back around his face. Accidentally, Harry's finger brushed a familiar cheekbone as he drew away. He stifled a gasp as sensual electricity shot through his fingers, and folded his hands away quickly. Draco shot him a curious glance, smiling faintly.

'Do you want to know something, Harry? Something I've never told anyone.'

'If you trust me enough to tell me.'

'I trust you implicitly.'

'Then tell away.' Draco raised a hand to Harry's face, and Harry jumped. Draco's lips quirked at the corners, but he was not deterred. Smooth fingertips grazed burning pathways down his cheek, before passing like a promise over dry lips.

'I didn't want to finish with you, despite what you and everyone else thinks,' he said softly, eyes hazy like some infectiously warm mist. 'Ever. And since then... it's never been quite the same.'

'Oh,' Harry managed to eek out, trying to ignore the predatorial humour twinkling on Malfoy's face. 'Well... that's nice.' Malfoy's face grew stern.

'I'm serious, Harry. It's not because I'm angry with anyone and looking for revenge, it's not because I've forgotten and want to refresh my memory. This is me. Being honest. If there's anything about us that I regret, it was the fact that it was temporary. And the fact that it is done.'

I know we're cool

'Are you happy, Harry?'

'I'm fairly content.' Draco cocked his head.

'And you intend to found a marriage on that?'

'I intend to found a marriage on love, Draco,' Harry said firmly. 'I do love her.'

'But you don't fancy her, do you?'

'Not as such,' Harry admitted quietly, ashamed. 'But that's not the point.'

'Of course it's the point,' Draco laughed. 'Potter, you're going to be banging out kids with this woman. Spending the rest of your life with this woman. Women are demanding. Women need to feel wanted. Just like us, Harry. And if you don't understand that, you're not mature enough to be getting married, anyway.'

'I want a family, Malfoy,' Harry spat. 'I want security and happiness and a warm home to go to. And yes, I want kids. I want grandchildren. I want to sit in a chair with grey hair, smoking a bloody pipe and watching them roll around on the floor and let someone else do the protecting of me for once.' He sighed. 'I love her, Draco. I love her, honestly and deeply.'

'Passionately?' Draco offered. Harry ignored him.

'And I enjoy my time with her. I feel safe and calm with her. And I love her family. They're my family too. We're just making it official.'

'It's called adoption, Potter,' Draco purred. 'I'm sure you've heard of it.'

'Draco...'

'I'm serious, Potter. You're gay. I know.' Harry frowned at him. 'And I can't believe you've become so suddenly ashamed of it. Ginny will know. And Ginny will be unhappy because she knows that you gave up being bloody gay for her, and that's something she shouldn't have had to ask you to do.' Harry didn't say anything.

'I'm a stubborn git,' he finally ground out. 'I will make it work.' Draco stared at him for a while, before picking up his cool aloof Malfoy facade.

'I'm damn sure you will, Potter,' he drawled. 'After all, you're too weedy to fend off six angry big brothers. Especially when they're Neanderthals like the Weasleys.'

'Don't start, Malfoy,' Harry groaned, raking hands through his hair.

'I never stopped, Potter,' Draco purred. 'I just made a point of masking my feelings with politeness for a while. I'm a 24 year old rich-kid playboy. I don't have to be polite all the time. It's like breaking some unwritten code.' Harry laughed against his will. He glanced at his watch.

'Bloody hell!'

'What?'

'It's quarter past ten!' Draco raised his eyebrows.

'That late? I've been here a shockingly long time.'

'Me too,' Harry agreed. Harry looked at Draco's stack of letters. 'I'm keeping you from your work.' Draco slapped Harry's wrist in reprimand.

'Don't be ridiculous,' he said firmly. 'A chance to catch up with Harry Potter ranks above answering letters any day.' Harry smiled bashfully, bowing his head a little.

'I'd... like to do it again. Soon, I mean.' Harry looked up when Draco spoke. It was tentative, unsure, longing. And those eyes. Those temptress' eyes were aglow, calling to him. Begging him.

'Definitely,' Harry answered cheerfully. 'I'd love a guided tour of Paris.'

'And I'd love some free top box quidditch tickets.' They both laughed. It was cordial. It was friendly. But in each other's eyes the desire was flaming. One was offering, and one still holding back. It was a question of whose resolve was stronger.

Cool, I know we're cool

'Here.' Draco pushed a piece of notepaper across the table. In his relaxed, languid cursive was an address.

'St Germain?'

'The address of my penthouse,' Draco smiled. 'I'm there a great deal of the time. This way, you or your owl can find me.'

'Hedwig would have found you anyway,' Harry said, but immediately regretted it. 'But I wouldn't. Thank you.'

'Your address?'

'I'm staying at The Burrow at the moment,' he said softly. 'But we'll be moving out into a cottage in Godric's Hollow after...' he swallowed. 'The honeymoon.'

'Ah,' Draco mouthed, nodding gently, almost smugly. Harry transfigured the napkin into some notepaper and borrowed Draco's quill to scrawl down the cottage's location.

'Thank you,' Draco said softly, taking the address with a caress and slipping it into the breast pocket of his jacket, which still hung over the back of the chair. 'I'll be sure to visit when I'm in the country.'

'So long as it's not out of your way,' Harry said.

'Would that matter to me?' Draco asked innocently, and Harry felt his blood thunder, demanding satisfaction. Harry didn't reply, staring at Draco, eyes pleading. Draco sighed, suddenly standing up, and Harry felt as if his body had been torn away, leaving a gaping hole where he had once breathed.

'I'll be off, then,' he said in clipped tones. 'Goodbye, Harry.'

Dear god. He was going again. Don't let him go again.

'Goodbye Draco,' Harry said, standing up and walking round the table to shake Draco's hand. Draco took it.

'Let's not leave it so long, next time,' he whispered, and Harry nodded.

'It takes far too long to catch up otherwise.' Draco laughed, and it was light, relaxed, natural. Those teeth were showing behind slightly parted lips.

'What I said, Harry,' he purred, voice layered with promise. 'About visiting me before the wedding. That's still open. Anytime. Just me and you.' Draco did not blink. He didn't give Harry reprieve. 'Whatever and whenever you want, I'll be waiting.' And suddenly his mouth was a mere breath from Harry's advancing, ready to seal the promise-

Harry turned his head. Rose petal lips pressed lightly against his cheek. Draco retreated, smiling and averting his eyes in a vaguely hurt way. He picked up his jacket at his post under one arm, dropping a note onto the table.

'Goodbye, Harry,' he whispered, patting the taller man on the arm, before vanishing through the door and into the velveteen night. Harry looked down at the piece of paper on the table. An address in Paris... and a room number at the guesthouse on the other side of the village. He looked at it. He looked at it for a long time. He took a shuddering sigh, and placed and hand over clouded eyes.

'Incendio.'

I know we're cool

Tsx