When Draco released him, Harry stood for a moment in shock. He had expected Voldemort's Very Secret Hiding Place to be forbidding and scary, but the building in front of them was a small, cheery house, painted blue and yellow and surrounded by a small white picket fence.

Draco almost smiled at the taken aback look on Harry's face, until he remembered what they were doing there. The almost-smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Harry," he said urgently, "you've got to change clothes. He's going to sense us any minute now."

Without thinking, Harry quickly unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down around his ankles. Draco froze.

Harry saw the stunned look on his face and frowned. "Turn around if it bothers you, Draco."

When his muscles started responding again, Draco tried to look as unaffected as he possibly could. He sniffed and stuck his nose in the air. "Harry, just because you're bloody gorgeous does NOT mean that…um, I mean—"

But he never got to finish his sentence because all of a sudden his breath had disappeared. Harry had come quite a bit closer without him noticing, and was now smiling at him in that shy, just-been-snogged way of his. It was the same smile that Draco had seen in the dressing room, and it made his entire body heat up and pay attention. The heat that was radiating off of Harry probably helped with that too.

"You do like me," he said softly. Draco was trembling in anticipation of another kiss, but it never came. Instead, Harry turned away, picking up the leather skirt in a fluid motion and putting it on. When his shirt came off, Draco was practically drooling.

All of a sudden, the Very Small Fangirl appeared on Draco's shoulder. Your dad is coming! she shrieked. As much as I would enjoy watching you two go at it, I don't particularly want to see either of you die that way, no matter how romantic it would be. Stop drooling and go save his life, so you can live happily ever after.

Draco snapped to attention just as his father came stumbling out the door of the Very Secret Hiding Place. In that moment, Draco decided that a Very Small Fangirl was a Very Nice Thing to Have Around.

Then he took a look at his father, and did a double take. "Father?" he whispered in disbelief.

Lucius's blond hair was the same as ever, even if it was a bit messier than usual, but his clothes were tattered and his eyes were crossed and wandering in their sockets. He had a large scar on the right side of his face, running from just above his eyebrow to his cheek bone, and in his hand he held what Draco recognized as a bottle of alcohol.

Draco approached him cautiously, in much the same way that one might approach a wild animal, even as his father made his wavering way towards him. As the distance between them got smaller, Draco realized that his father was giggling under his breath, which smelled strongly of alcohol.

"Oh, Draco, there you are!" Lucius said with a giggle. He reached out in what was probably meant to be a fatherly pat on the shoulder, but in his confusion he ended up smacking Draco across the face. It didn't hurt his skin, but it caused a deep radiating pain inside him and erased the warmth that Harry had produced in him only moments before.

Draco pushed him away, causing Lucius to stumble backwards and trip over his own feet, unsure whether he was more hurt that his father would hit him, or embarrassed that he would do such a thing in front of Harry. To his great surprise, he felt anger at the Very Evil Dark Lord for doing this to his father welling up in his chest. He felt tears enter his eyes, but he pushed them away. He looked for Harry, and found him standing a few feet away. He had expected to see pity on the Gryffindor's face, which would have made him lash out, but all he saw was grave understanding.

Seeing the sudden uncertainty fill his former rival's face, Harry reached out a hand to Draco, who hesitated for a moment before taking it. Together, they faced the door to their destinies and walked forward.