Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the amazing JK Rowling, and sadly, not me.

Thank you to my beta, HPalto87, and hearts to my reviewers!

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12

Harry took a long shower, then put on a pair of loose cotton pants that Daco loved because they tended to slide down and show off Harry's toned abdomen. He wandered into the kitchen and began pulling ingredients for waffles from the cupboards. He had the batter mixed and the waffle iron heated before Hermione came down.

"Harry!" she cried. "You don't need to cook! This isn't even your house!"

"I know, but you guys let me stay here, so I figured it was the least I could do to thank you," Harry replied.

"You really don't have to." Hermione tried to take the bowl of batter from him.

"No, I don't mind cooking. It keeps my mind off of… things," Harry said.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried. "Do you miss him? You can talk to us, you know."

"No… yes… maybe. I know," Harry babbled.

Hermione looked worried.

"Breakfast will be ready in a bit," Harry said, and went back to cooking, effectively pushing his friend's efforts to help aside.

---

Breakfast was awkward. It was rare that Harry felt so out-of-place with his two best friends, but today he did.

Ron sat Penelope in her high chair as Harry served the waffles, complete with strawberry topping.

Draco loved strawberries.

No, you're not thinking about that prat! Harry told himself. Even though they had used the fruit, along with chocolate sauce, for sexual purposes on multiple occasions.

That was not a good line of thought to be dwelling on, and Harry forced his attention to the family in front of him.

The happy, loving family. Something that Harry would never have with Draco. Something he might not ever have with anyone. Harry couldn't imagine loving another man the way he had loved Draco. Even Oliver.

Ron chopped Penelope's food into little bits, and began helping the little girl eat. Penelope seemed to think it was perfectly acceptable to eat by squishing the food between her fingers and shoving her whole fist in her mouth. Harry had to smile at that. Ron kept trying to feed her from a spoon.

"She thinks food is yummier eaten from her hands than from the proper utensils," Hermione explained. "Or maybe it's just more fun that way?"

Harry laughed and Ron snorted in irritation, as all his efforts were systematically ignored. He gave up and dropped the spoon.

"Did you sleep at all, mate?" he asked Harry.

"A bit," Harry answered.

"Did you read the letter?" Hermione interrogated.

"Most of it," Harry replied uncomfortably. "Look, Hermione, I appreciate what you're trying to do… I think… but just because Draco wrote all those things five years ago doesn't mean he still feels that way," Harry said.

She took a bite of her waffle while she thought about his answer.

"This is really good, Harry," she said. "And, love like yours doesn't change."

"It's one of Draco's favorite meals," Harry replied, ignoring the bit about love. "Actually, he really likes anything with strawberries."

Hermione smiled. "I know that deep down you two still love each other."

"Hermione, don't say that to him!" Ron exclaimed. "We finally get rid of Ferret, and Harry can find a real boyfriend."

"Ron! That's horrible!" Hermione scolded. "Harry spent six years with Draco. They loved each other. The least they can do is talk about this."

"Ferret's been shitty to Harry ever since his Quidditch try-outs, can't you just let it go?" Ron demanded.

"Um, actually-" Harry tried to cut in, but his friends weren't listening.

"For Merlin's sake Ron, are you always going to call him Ferret? He has a name, you know!" Hermione said.

"Now that Harry left the git, I have no reason to ever use his real name," Ron stated.

"Um, guys?" Harry tried again.

"I know they've been having problems lately, but they've been through worse," Hermione said.

"What could be worse than this? They lied to each other, cheated on each other, and generally made each other miserable for months!" Ron argued.

"Actually, Draco didn't-" Harry was cut off by Hermione again.

"I'd call anything involving Death Eaters worse, and the two of them got through Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy, and Draco's trial. Most people would never be able to do that," Hermione said.

"Hermione! Ron!" Harry called above their bickering.

They both stopped and looked at him, as if they hadn't known he was sitting there the whole time.

"I appreciate that you both care so much, but I'm perfectly capable of deciding what to do with my life on my own," Harry said.

Hermione looked hurt.

"We're sorry," Ron apologized.

"We just want to see you happy again, is all," Hermione explained.

"I know," Harry replied. "But this is something I'll have to figure out on my own, okay?"

They both nodded.

The trio spent the rest of breakfast avoiding topics regarding Harry's love life.

---

Flashback

Quidditch try-outs had been easy enough for Harry. He found that even though he hadn't played in a while, it came naturally to him. He caught the Snitch easier and faster than the other two prospective seekers, and was awarded the position after only two hours. The Puddlemere United team and reserve team watched from the stands, chatting amongst themselves and occasionally cheering for good maneuvers.

The team manager, Philbert Deverill, shook his hand and gave him a practice schedule. He told him what was expected of his players, ranted about teamwork, and gave Harry a hearty pat on the back that nearly knocked the small seeker over.

The team members came down to the pitch to greet their new seeker. Oliver greeted Harry with a big hug.

"It's been a long time!" he said.

"Yeah, it's good to see you," Harry replied. "How have you been?"

"Good, but I've got nothing on you, from what I hear. A steady boyfriend, a successful Quidditch shop. You're living a nice, quiet, evil-psycho-dictator-wizard-free life," he said with a smile.

Harry laughed. He had never heard Voldemort described like that before.

Oliver then introduced Harry around to the team.

The beaters were a pair of friends from London, Arthur Lore and Ford Kenley. They were both rather large and overly-friendly in a way that reminded Harry of Hagrid.

Oliver then presented a Spanish chaser, Marco Hernandez, who Harry would think was rather cute if he were gay and didn't keep talking about his girlfriend in Madrid.

The other two chasers were Morgan Lovett and Jennifer Sage, who were so different from each other that Harry wasn't sure how they got along. Morgan was tall, lean, and sporty with a competitive attitude in everything, and Jennifer was smaller, chattier, and a bit ditzy. She was dressed fashionably in an outfit that showed off her girly shape, and kept talking about shopping and popular wizards in the media. Morgan kept rolling her eyes and trying to shift the conversation to a different topic, to no avail. Morgan was also the team captain.

Puddlemere United kept a beater, a keeper, and two chasers, one of which doubled as a seeker, on reserve. Dan McNally, Jordan Bay, Kayla Pidge, and Nina Hadden came to practices and sat on the sidelines during games. They were all very young, and hardly ever got to play in the matches, but for the most part they seemed optimistic anyway.

When they were done, Oliver offered to take Harry out to dinner with the team in celebration.

"I don't know… I should go home, Draco will be waiting for me," Harry said.

"Oh, do you two have plans for tonight?" Oliver asked.

"No, but… well, he wasn't too keen on me doing this to begin with, and if I'm late he'll just think…" Harry stopped. Oliver was giving him an odd look. "I sound silly."

"No, I completely understand," Oliver said. "I'll just tell everyone that Harry Potter can't come because he's hen-pecked."

Harry stared at Oliver for a moment. He had a challenging look in his eyes. I'm not hen-pecked, Harry told himself. To Oliver he said, "I'm coming."

---

They had gone to a pub in the wizarding district of North Puddlemere. They were served good food and firewhiskey. Harry had gotten a bit drunk, but not enough to lose control. He became a bit touchy-feely with Oliver, but the keeper didn't protest.

Harry arrived home only an hour after Draco. It wasn't late, but it was later than he had promised Draco that morning. He found his boyfriend reading in the library.

"Where have you been?" Draco asked him.

"I made the team!" Harry shouted. He had a big, goofy, drunken grin on his face.

"Are you drunk?" Draco asked unnecessarily.

"Maybe a bit," Harry slurred. "We went out for dinner, then we had firewhiskey!"

He sounded so excited about it all. In all honesty, he hadn't been this excited about anything in a while.

Harry pushed Draco's book aside and climbed in his lap. He kissed him sloppily, then laughed.

"I love you, Angel," he said.

"I love you too," Draco said sincerely, but he was frowning.

"You know what else I love?" Harry asked softly.

"What?" Draco replied.

"Quidditch!" Harry practically yelled.

Draco scowled and pushed Harry off of him. He put his book away, then led Harry up to their bedroom and helped him get ready for bed.

"It's not late, but you need to go to sleep before you do or say something stupid," he told Harry.

"I'm not stupid, you're stupid," Harry said. He sounded like a child.

"Something like that," Draco muttered, trying not to get angry.

"I'm not tired," Harry protested. He wrapped his arms around Draco, and said more seriously, "I'm excited about this. Are you happy for me?"

Draco looked into the bright green eyes. "Yes," he lied.

---

A/N: For those of us who are American: hen-peckedwhipped. Oliver's making fun of Harry for doing whatever Draco says (though this is an exaggeration anyway.) I try to avoid blatant Americanisms, as I'm pretty sure British wizards wouldn't know any American slang.