Title: What Happens in the Man Cave . . .

Author: Dark Phoenix

Summary: Recently divorced Harry invites Draco over to his man cave for a day of Muggle culture appreciation. But instead, something unexpected happens that explains just why his marriage to Ginny didn't work out.

Pairings: Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this.

Notes: At my soul-crushing retail job (two years ago), we got in some lame wall art thing that said, "What happens in the man cave stays in the man cave," and it gave me ideas.


~ What Happens in the Man Cave ~

"A man cave? Please tell me you're not serious."

"You promised you would try to keep an open mind."

"I am trying, but even you must find it hard to take Muggles seriously when they come up with such ridiculous names for things—"

"It really doesn't seem like you're trying all that hard—"

"I mean, how can you say the words man cave without thinking about primitive Muggles waving spears around and getting excited about fire?"

Harry folded his arms, but he had a tolerant smile on his face as he regarded his partner, who was looking around Harry's refurbished basement with far more skepticism than the situation called for. "I think that's actually kind of the point," he said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Okay, now you've lost me."

"You agreed to this, remember," Harry said, leading him over to the overstuffed leather couch in front of a flat-screen TV. "Would you just trust me?" He hid a smile at the bewildered look Draco gave the TV before sinking gingerly onto the couch as if afraid it might swallow him up.

"Let me go grab us something to eat," said Harry, heading for the kitchenette just off the main room. "Be right back."

He returned a moment later with a six-pack of beer and a snack platter, which he set down on the coffee table in front of Draco, then flipped on the TV. "This is what Muggles call 'football,'" he said.

Draco looked dubiously at the game currently playing. "I'll never understand the point of sports without brooms."

Harry couldn't help laughing as he sat down next to Draco. "It's really not that different," he said. "It's simpler, actually. There's only one ball and one goal on each side. And no one has to worry about falling off their broom."

Harry was beginning to wonder if Draco's eyebrow had gotten stuck. "Like I said," Draco drawled, "there's no point to this game."

Harry reached for a beer and leaned back against the couch. "Just shut up and watch."

Draco huffed at being told to shut up, but complied. Harry couldn't help smiling. His teenage self never would've believed that, not only would he one day work happily alongside Draco Malfoy, but that they would be friendly enough for Harry to invite Draco over to watch Muggle sports. But Draco's haughty reaction to it all wouldn't be any great stretch of his younger self's imagination. Not if he took it at face value and didn't believe that Draco secretly enjoyed it and was putting on a front for the sake of his self-image.

"So, where's the Seeker?"

"They don't have one," Harry said patiently.

"Then who catches the Snitch? Honestly, this game is making less sense by the minute." But Harry couldn't help noticing that Draco didn't take his eyes from the screen for a moment.

"There isn't a Snitch. Just that big black-and-white ball." Harry bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep a straight face as Draco turned to look at him incredulously.

"You're missing the game," Harry said after a moment, and barely stifled a laugh when Draco quickly turned back to the TV.

"Then how do they decide when the game's over?" Draco said after a minute, clearly struggling to maintain his earlier haughty tone.

Harry just laughed and sipped his beer, snuggling further into the cushy sofa. The combination of the beer and Draco's amusing cluelessness was beginning to make him feel pleasantly warm and relaxed.

"You know, this game would be a lot more exciting if they had Bludgers," Draco mused after awhile.

"You seem to be enjoying it well enough," Harry countered.

"I'm just trying to humor you," said Draco. "You're welcome, by the way."

Harry snorted. "Whatever you have to tell yourself." He sat up to grab a bowl of pretzels, his knee brushing against Draco's in the process. Their knees were still lightly touching when he resumed his position, but neither seemed to notice. He sipped his beer, watching the game with interest and partially focused on Draco beside him. They sat that way for a few minutes, both immersed in the game and not speaking. There was a cozy feeling about it, and Harry couldn't help congratulating himself for deciding to have Draco over.

It was nice to have another person in his house again, Harry thought. His marriage to Ginny had clearly been a mistake. They'd both quickly realized that things had changed too much to ever get back to what they'd had at Hogwarts, and the whole thing had barely lasted a year. But Harry was still finding it hard to get used to having the big, empty house to himself. And a comment Ginny had made about figuring out who he was had been lingering in his mind since she'd left, taunting him as its meaning continued to elude him.

Forget it, he told himself. She was just mad and spouting nonsense. I know who I am — what am I supposed to figure out? And I'm supposed to be having a relaxing day of teaching Draco about Muggle culture. He glanced over at Draco, still intent on the game, and smiled. Well, at least that part of the plan was on track.

He reached back into the pretzel bowl at the same time Draco did, and they both laughed awkwardly. Eager to move past the awkwardness, Harry blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"You have really soft hands." He immediately cringed, facepalming, while an inner voice jeered, Nice going, idiot.

He felt Draco start slightly beside him. "What?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything," said Harry, his hand still covering his face.

A light touch on his wrist made him start, and he looked up to see Draco smirking, which was always a bad sign. Draco slid his hand over Harry's, intertwining their fingers.

Harry pulled his hand away. "What are you doing?"

Draco giggled, sounding rather drunk. "What's wrong? Don't you want to hold my soft hand?" He giggled again, clearly satisfied with himself, and reached out to stroke Harry's hand again.

Harry snorted. "You really are a lightweight, aren't you? Maybe I should've stuck to butterbeer."

Draco's hand crept up Harry's arm. Harry wondered vaguely why he didn't stop him. He snuggled closer to Harry and lay his head on Harry's shoulder. "I think you fancy me, Potter," he murmured into Harry's ear.

Harry shook his head and tried to refocus on the game. "Definitely had too much to drink," he said, aiming for a tone of superiority, but missing the mark.

Draco giggled softly in his ear, and a moment later, Harry felt lips graze his earlobe. "I think I fancy you, too," he whispered.

Startled by the sudden confession, Harry turned to face him. Draco raised a finger to his lips. "Shh," he said. "It's a secret." He lay his head back down on Harry's shoulder, the picture of contentment.

Harry turned to face the television, but it was much harder to focus now with Draco's head on his shoulder, his soft breath tickling Harry's neck. And his contented murmurs as he made himself comfortable. And his lips brushing against Harry's collarbone.

"You smell good," Draco said against Harry's skin. "Even with that cheap, mass-produced aftershave you use."

Harry felt lips on his neck again, slowly moving up to a spot just below his ear that made his breath catch and the lips curve into a knowing smirk. "Mmmm," Draco murmured. "Yes. You smell like Harry." His lips pressed against Harry's neck more firmly, and this time, Harry felt a tongue teasing that sensitive spot, teeth gently nibbling his skin.

Harry groaned and leaned into the kiss. A part of him warned that this really wasn't a good idea, but it had been a long time since anyone had kissed him like this, so he ignored it. Draco's lips felt good, attacking the spot with greater intensity, sucking, biting, and no doubt leaving a mark that Harry just couldn't bring himself to care about.

He turned and captured Draco's lips with his own, the game forgotten in the background. Draco's hair felt like silk as he threaded his fingers through it. The kiss was slow and languid, both of them taking their time and savoring one another. Harry's body was beginning to respond as he moved to straddle Draco, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt to more easily trail kisses down the creamy, smooth skin of his throat.

A shrill ringing sounded nearby, and Harry sat up in alarm. It took him a second to realize it was the telephone in the kitchenette.

Who on earth is calling now? he wondered as he climbed off Draco and moved towards the sound in a daze.

"What is that infernal racket?" Draco asked, covering his ears with his hands. "Is your house on fire or something?"

"It's just the phone," Harry said, staring down at it as if he'd never seen it before. Before he could decide whether or not to get it, the answering machine made the decision for him.

"HI, HARRY!" Ron's voice boomed from the answering machine. "GUESS WHO JUST GOT A NEW FELLYTONE?!"

"Ron, you don't have to shout," Hermione said in the background.

"Oh, sorry," Ron said at a normal volume. "Okay, well, I just wanted to tell you about our new fellytone. Now you can call us whenever you want!" There was a pause, and Harry could hear a muffled conversation in the background. "Oh, and Hermione says, don't forget about the family dinner next week. Bye!"

Harry stared down at the answering machine for a minute, bemused. He didn't notice Draco coming up behind him until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" Draco demanded, staring down at the answering machine with clear distrust.

"It's just more Muggle technology," Harry said. "Sorry about that. I don't get a lot of calls down here. Kind of forgot I even had it." He chuckled, running a hand through his hair nervously. The sudden jolt of the phone ringing had cut through his pleasant buzz from earlier, and he felt completely sober again.

Did I really just snog Draco? he thought with alarm. He was a little afraid to see Draco's reaction. Would he be horrified by what had happened? Or was he disappointed that they'd been interrupted? Harry wasn't sure which thought was more terrifying. But he was sure things had happened awfully fast.

Harry turned back to the main room to see that the game had ended. "I guess the game's over," he said lamely.

"I guess it is," Draco said. He sounded disspirited.

Harry chanced a glance over at him. He wasn't sure what to say, but just as he opened his mouth, Draco beat him to it.

"I didn't get to see how it ended," Draco went on. "Looks like I'll have to come back some other time to get the full Muggle experience."

Harry stared at him for a moment, then started to smile. "Yeah, I guess you will."

Looking relieved, Draco led the way back upstairs. As he stepped out the front door, he turned to face Harry again, his forehead creasing slightly. "Harry?" he said. "About what happened — I mean, not that I regret it, but do we have to tell people about it just yet? I mean, I—"

Harry gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry about it," he said. "What happens in the man cave stays in the man cave."

~ fin ~


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