4.
"Dolores!" James yelled in a loud whisper, as he spotted his friend walking along the corridor, away from her class. "Oi! Dolores!"
When she looked his way, he made a beckoning motion, indicating she'd follow him into an empty classroom. Horace was out with some others, and he made sure they weren't followed by anyone else.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"I need to speak to you. Have you got a minute?"
She shrugged, "I have a free period now, why?"
They sat on a desk each, after James closed the door behind them.
"Okay, get on with it then…" Dolores looked at her friend still confused but also intrigued. James was always the calm one of the three of them, the one that didn't allow himself to get too heated about much.
"Um, you're good at keeping secrets, aren't you?" he started. He looked at her intensely.
"You know me - Dementors couldn't get me to blab…" she smiled. "Out with it."
"Right… Um, I think… It's just that…" James said, going beetroot red in the face.
"Ah, well, I didn't see that coming…"
"Shut up, I'm trying, okay…"
"Okay, sorry…"
"I'm thinking… I think I might…" James looked frustrated, closed his eyes and took a deep, angered sigh.
"What, James?" Dolores looked him in the eye. "What's so awful that you can't say it?"
"I fancy blokes…" James blurted out. "There, I said it…"
"Right, okay…"
"I'm gay… Or at least bi." he let out his breath. "You're not shocked…"
"Um, no… I guessed you might be, the way you are with Alex, and the way you stare at the guys who practice Quidditch, and how you ogle Milly… But then again, everybody fancies Milly… Even I can't not look at Milly… And I'm definitely not gay. Or bi. Or maybe I am too - who knows…"
"Wow… Very relaxed way of looking at it…"
"I'm the daughter of two mothers, Potter, in case you forgot…"
"Yeah, I know… I don't know why it bothers me - well, I do. My dad is bi, and the Prophet makes a huge deal out of that. Calls him all kinds of horrible things, and my mum is really freaked out over that. So the notion of my own attraction to blokes, the fact that it would add to her stress, and that the Prophet might run another story on it, yet another Potter who fancies guys…"
"Yeah, I get that… I know most wizards I know aren't too worried about who you sleep with, but there are a few still easily annoyed about it. Usually the older ones who are keen to keep the pure-bloodlines going. But really, who gives a Banshee's arse who you fancy?! I don't…" she smiled after that. "Do you fancy anyone in particular?"
James went red again. "No…"
"Is it Alex?"
"No… Well, I really like him, but I don't…"
"You don't think of him in that way, yet," Dolores assessed, looking at James. "So who is it…"
"Nobody…"
"Is it that guy from Ravenclaw, the Seeker from year 7?" she saw James shake his head. "No, okay… Someone totally embarrassing, otherwise you wouldn't be so weird about it… So… A teacher?" James didn't look at her, going an even deeper crimson. "So, it's a teacher… Now who's remotely bearable…" She went quiet for a while, mentally going through all the staff at Hogwarts, and suddenly stopped, and looked at her friend. "No!"
"Dolores, give it a rest…"
"James Potter, you wanted to confide in me, don't be going all prissy on me here… You have a crush on Professor Flitwick!"
"What?! Are you mental, Anderson?!"
Dolores laughed at the shock and disgust on her friend's face. "Keep your hair on, Potter… It's Professor Malfoy, isn't it?" she grinned.
"I don't!" he called out indignantly.
"Well, he's not bad-looking I suppose… For an old bloke…"
"He's… I don't…"
"It's okay, James… He's attractive, for as far as teachers could ever be… Not my type, but I can see why you'd be… Why you'd have a crush on him…"
"He's my dad's age…"
"Yeah, so?"
"Well, don't you think it smacks of daddy-issues?"
"You have daddy-issues, James…" Dolores grinned. "And besides, you're not actually going out with him, are you? He's your teacher to begin with, and he and your dad have history. And he's your teacher..."
"I know…"
"Just go with it for a bit, James. Get used to it. Then maybe find someone who isn't your dad's old enemy…"
James looked sideways, at his friend who was bang on the money. Now, all he needed to do was come to terms with what she just figured out.
..o0o0o0o..
Dinner was served in the lounge, and Harry sat down with a pint of ale and a book he had been meaning to read for a while. Apart from himself there were only three other guests, bar the curly haired chap who had walked in yesterday. Harry had acknowledged him, but he seemed to want to keep to himself. Gertrude had introduced him, since he was looking to get to Hogwarts, and they spoke for a bit. He had asked about the Post Office and how reliable the owls were, as he sent one to Hogwarts the day before but hadn't heard anything. Harry had no idea how to help him with that, and told him to go to talk to Mr Flannigan. When Harry walked past earlier that day, he seemed to have taken up residence on one of the chairs.
He should be looking for somewhere to live, somewhere proper, Harry thought, as he looked around the lounge. The Three Broomsticks was getting a tad expensive. Not that he had to worry about the money - his books sold very well, for a start - but maybe it was time to have his own place once again, do up 12 Grimmauld Place maybe. He had left it to be neglected, not bothered with learning rebuilding spells, or hiring someone to do that for him. Maybe it would help to make it feel less heavy, less loaded. James would have his own room, done in a way he liked it, for the time he was still living with him.
As he was reading his book, he heard three faint plops near to where he was sitting, and when he looked up, he was faced with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, who had Apparated into the pub, looking around to see where he was sitting.
"Harry!" Ron said, when he saw his friend. "Good, you're here…"
"Of course I'm here… Where else would I be?" Harry looked at them confused.
"Well, you were spotted with a pretty looking witch the other day, so we assumed…" Hermione started, then stopped herself. "Never mind. We've found you. And we want to take you back to ours. Or the Burrow. You have been letting yourself go, and we're worried about you."
"You're what? Why?! I'm fine, Hermione, stop fussing, will you…"
"And then there's Adrian, who you seem to spend a lot of time with…"
"Um, unless I'm quite mistaken, I'm not twelve anymore, and I can look after myself okay, okay?"
"You made a pig's ear of your life lately, Harry… Even you must see that." Ginny chipped in. "You missed seeing James off at the station, cos you were too busy with… whatever…"
"And I'm sorry about that, Gin. Temporary lapse, I promise you." Harry stared at the mother of his son, and knew she was not best pleased. "Look, guys, I appreciate your concern, but really, I'm fine."
"You don't seem it, though, mate," Ron chipped in. He looked uncomfortable.
"Well, I guess you could say i'm having a late teenage. Missed out in the real one. Or an early mid-life crisis..." he smiled at this, realizing the truth as he said it. His actual teenage had been fraught with fear and terror, having to consider the thought of not reaching eighteen so very often. And then he and Ginny got together, and the world's wizarding press followed their every move, leaving him feeling he had to be more responsible and mature than he wanted. But hey - he was Harry Potter, what choice did he have?!
Just then Malfoy entered the Broomsticks, looking around, slightly acknowledging their presence. He took a seat near the window, and Harry kept half an eye on him.
"What's he up to?" Ginny asked, as she followed Harry's gaze.
"Waiting for his ex, I think..." Harry mumbled.
"How do you know?"
"He mentioned... he and I talked Yesterday... The guy arrived last night..."
"Cosy..."
"He's alright, Malfoy. We talked quite a bit, yesterday. I was by the lake and he was on a walk there too." His gaze went back to the man by the window, who was nursing a wine, waiting.
"Oh god, you're not getting obsessed with him again, are you?!" Ron glared at Harry. "I think once was enough..."
"I was not obsessed with Malfoy!" Harry replied indignantly. "Anyway, I had reason to suspect he was up to no good."
"You were taking it rather far, as I remember it..." Hermione now joined in.
"As if you were enjoying it..." Ginny added.
"Oh, piss off guys..." Harry hovered between being annoyed and jokey.
"Who does Adrian remind you off, in a certain light...?" Ginny looked faux-serious and then glanced at Malfoy.
"In any light, actually," Hermione answered, also looking at the man by the window.
"You guys are mental..." Ron frowned, looking at his sister and wife, then at Malfoy, and did a quick double take. He stared at Malfoy and then at Harry. "Bloody hell..."
"He looks nothing like Adrian," Harry said, as he stopped looking at Malfoy, and took a bite of his dinner, which was by now pretty cold.
"Anyway, even more reason for taking you back to ours," Hermione stood up, as if to get ready to Apparate.
"I'm not going anywhere..."
"Harry, please... You need looking after," Ginny said, also getting up.
"Guys, please. I'm not going. I'm fine. I'm going to figure out how to get Grimmauld Place done up, and then I might move back in there, get it ready for Christmas, have James stay with me." Harry stayed put, and watched as his friends stared at him. "Honestly, I'm fine."
"Well, you are indeed a grown up and we can't make you do anything against your will," Ron said, looking from Harry to the other two, and he put his coat back on. "Come on guys, let's leave him to it."
The others conceded, and said their goodbyes, leaving Harry to his cold dinner, on which he performed a heating spell to make it more palatable.
..o0o0o0o..
Earlier that evening, an owl tapped on the window of his bedroom, giving Draco a bit of a shock. It was very quiet, and he was listening to some music on his small radio, his thoughts rather a long way away. An encounter with one of the students, a cheeky guy from Gryffindor, had unsettled him, and he wanted time to sort out his thoughts on this. His chat with young Potter had apparently been noticed and given people ideas, speculations about his conduct flying around the castle, and he was sure McGonagall was going to pick up on it soon.
The owl had a letter on it's leg, and Draco detached it carefully, then sent the bird on it's way again. The parchment was small, and as he opened it, he recognised the writing. His heart skipped a beat.
* Draco, please meet with me in Hogmeade. Ich vermisse dich x M *
Markus… What was he doing in the village?!
Draco poured himself a whiskey, which he drank in one go. As it burned in his throat, he pulled a face, and closed his eyes. He sighed. Markus was here, in Hogsmeade. Should he go straightaway? He wanted to, more than anything else… When he spoke the words to Potter the other day, he knew how much he missed him. But it was something he'd put to rest as well. His time with Markus was in the past, this was his present. Buried and gone. Markus had made it clear that he wasn't ready to let go of his interest in Dietmar, or that he at least had some wild oats to sow, and that Draco could lump it or leave it. However upset he had been at the time, it had been for the best. And he had moved on.
But then again - had he really? If Markus was here, now, might it not be a good idea to see how well he'd processed his feelings? He could send him on his merry way again, back to Germany, back to Berlin, where he now had a life. With whoever he was seeing now. Draco put on his robes and made to go out, but thought the better of it. What if he fell back in love with him again…? Wouldn't they just have the same problem again, in six months time? And would he have to give up his teaching job here? Would he go back to Germany? Part of him wanted to, more than anything. He missed it there - the way people were with each other, the German wizard customs that he had gotten so used to. His cottage in the woods, the stream in the back of his garden, the hillside he loved to walk along.
The past. He had to let that go.
But wasn't he now living in the past as well?! Wasn't Hogwarts even more of a past he wished to bury and put to rest? True, he was surprised to see how well he got accepted, how much he liked teaching, how kind the other teachers were to him. But he was still always part of the last dreadful historic event here. He was always going to be a former Death Eater, someone who followed the Dark Lord, the cause of so many people dying, of Professor Dumbledore meeting his untimely death… Would he ever be truly forgiven for that? Could he expect this? Whenever James Potter, or any of the Weasley kids saw him, they saw someone who once happily wanted them dead. To never be born…
He put his robes back on, and walked out of his rooms, and out of the castle. The walk to Hogsmeade was nice, the smell of autumn filling the air. His heart was beating faster with every yard he got closer to the village. Draco aimed for the Three Broomsticks, since it was an Inn, and Markus was probably staying there.
It was quiet inside, only a few people at the bar, and Gertrude greeted him friendly. Draco looked around, hoping to spot his former partner, but all he saw was Potter and a few Weasleys in a corner, chatting away heatedly.
"Gertrude, has there been a young guy here, dark curly hair, with a German accent?" he tried.
"Yeah, he was here half an hour ago. But he left, he didn't say where he was going."
Oh, great.
"He'll probably be back though. I don't think he's taken his stuff with him." she added, smiling, trying to ease the tension she saw him display.
Draco nodded, asked for an elderflower wine and sat at a table in the front of the pub, right by the window. Well out of the way of the assembled Weasleys. They were loud, working through something, by the sound of it. Good, Potter needed to be sorted out. He seemed so doleful when they met by the lake, earlier. For someone who had it all going for him, he seemed to be incredibly downhearted. As if the grief he'd had in his life were set into his psyche. Like he needed to have something to fight against, otherwise he'd just sink.
He watched the shenanigans in the back for a while, then watched the Weasleys Apparate silently. He decided that he'd leave as soon as he finished his wine, and got ready to go out. Obviously Markus was not going to come back any time soon, so he might as well leave a note with Gertrude, and go back to Hogwarts.
As he had his back turned to the pub, he felt a hand tap his shoulder. Draco turned and was face to face with a very familiar, but rather unexpected figure.
...o0o0o0o...
They walked along the grounds, as it was a quiet Saturday morning, and there were no other obligations. Horace had gone to do some Astronomy homework with a few others, leaving Dolores and James to themselves. The Halloween party was coming up next week, and they had been talking costumes and dates for a while. When they were near to where Hagrid's hut was, Dolores hissed at James.
"There you are, there's Alex! Go ask him out…" she said, as she pointed towards a lone figure on a bench, sketching the mountains and the lake on a large drawing pad. Alex. Unmistakably…
"I can't just… What if he'll laugh at me…?" James stalled.
"Have you noticed how he is with you around, Potter?! There's no way he'd laugh at you…" Dolores grinned. "Well, from nerves, maybe…"
James looked at her, then at the lone figure on the bench.
"What are you waiting for? Hell to freeze over again?" she indicated with her hand that he should be going over, this second. "Go for it…"
James sighed deeply, then grinned at Dolores. "Wish me luck!"
"As if you need that…"
He walked slowly up the slope, careful not to slip on the damp path, and arrived near where Alex was sitting just as he looked up to seen what the sound he heard came from. He smiled.
"Hi," he said with a quiet voice.
"Alex…" he smiled back, feeling himself get rather flushed. "What are you drawing there? Can I see it?"
Alex looked at his pad, and scooted up on the bench, making space for James. He tilted his pad so that it could be looked at, and explained some of the things that might not be clear yet.
"Wow! Nice! You really did the mountains well, there." James looked from the pad to the vista in front of him a few times, to see how Alex had captured the ragged ridge, filled with trees and rocks.
"Thanks…" he heard the modest voice of the guy next to him. "I was just… I wanted…"
"Do you want to go for a walk?" James asked, before Alex could finish his sentence.
"Was going to ask you the same thing…" he answered quickly, followed by a shy smile. He put the pad in his rucksack along with the pencil case and got up, slightly unsure of himself. James began walking, slowly to let Alex catch him up. "It's nice here, now, isn't it?"
"It is…" Alex gushed, then fell silent.
"Did you understand those notes on Arithmancy that I gave you the other day? Cos I can always help you explain them better…" James tried to fill the awkward silence. He was desperate for Alex to feel relaxed, but he had no idea how to feel relaxed himself.
"Yeah, no, they were clear. You added some extra comments, that really helped… Thanks…" Alex smiled again. James noticed how nice his eyes were, and how lovely his face when he smiled. He found himself staring at him for longer than was necessary. They carried on walking, until they got to the edge of the forest.
The boys stopped, unsure of where to go from there. Alex made a move to the left, and James followed, on his guard. Without thinking he grabbed Alex' hand, and the other stopped in his tracks.
"What are you…" he whispered.
"Alex… I wanted to ask you…" James never sounded so unsure of himself. It made Alex look at him intently.
"What…?"
"Do you want to…" James sighed, then cleared his throat, wanting to carry on. Then he noticed how Alex moved forward and met his lips with his own.
After a short time, where they carried on the kiss, gently and carefully, they broke away reluctantly.
"Yes…" breathed Alex, as he touched James' face with the hand that wasn't being held by his friend. His smile made James feel like a vault full of Galleons.
"Was going to ask you if you wanted to go find some Centaurs in the forest - my dad reckons they live there - but this is much better…." he grinned, then moved forward to repeat what they were just now doing, moving closer to Alex, who had moved a hand on his back, pulling him in against him.
"We can do that later, if you want," Alex grinned, after another kiss. He sounded almost confident. "Maybe we can explore this part of the woods first…"
James laughed, and put his arms around Alex, holding him in a tight hug. He had to remember to thank Dolores later on.
...o0o0o0o…
Draco woke up with a jolt, suddenly realizing what time it was. It may have been Saturday, there was still a N.E.W.T.s class he promised to teach, later today. Bloody keen year 7's - what was this world coming to?!
Next to him he heard a groan, and he was touched by a gentle hand.
"Morning," he heard, and as he turned, he was faced with sleepy eyes, and a smile that had his stomach do a strange flip.
The evening before had been strange. The person who tapped his shoulder in the Three Broomsticks had been Potter, and Draco had looked at him very confused.
"Um, the chap you were looking for, he's been sitting at the Post Office for hours, apparently," he said. "Mr. Flannigan would like to go home to his wife now… But your friend seems to be adamant that he'll be getting an owl from you at any point."
"What, Markus? What the…" Draco replied, frowning deeply. "Thanks, Potter. I'll go find him right away."
He sped along the High Street towards the Post Office, where a light was still on, shining through the small paneled windows. The owls were moving on their perches as they saw Draco come nearby, and a few started hooting when they heard the small bell jingle as he opened the door. Mr. Flannigan got up from his chair behind the counter as soon as he saw Draco, and pointed at the young man who was half asleep on the bench. He very loudly cleared his throat, which did the job.
Draco smiled at Markus, who had snapped his eyes open, looked around him, trying to work out where he was, and smiled back. "Da bist du!"
"Ja, und da bist du!" Draco moved over to Markus to hug him, and he turned to Mr. Flannigan to thank him for being so accommodating. "We'll be off now. Thanks again for letting him stay here…"
"Ay, 'twas okay, 'e were no bother, your lad…"
Together they left, wandering back to the pub slowly.
'Why were you there? And how long were you there for?" Draco asked after a bit.
"I was waiting for your reply. I sent an owl last night…"
"Last night? I only got your note an hour or so ago…"
"Was?! Wirklich?!" Markus looked perplexed. "Must have been a stupid owl…"
Draco laughed. "Maybe he was sidetracked by some bad ones."
"Yeah, dead eater owlz…" he sniggered.
Draco looked sideways in surprise.
"Death eaters? How do you know about that?"
Markus stopped walking. Draco stopped as well, turning towards his friend.
"Why have you never told me about that part of your life, Draco?"
"Who told you?"
"A man, in the herberg… His name was… Harry…" Markus looked at Draco, standing in the lamplight.
"Ah, yeah he would tell you about that…"
"Gertrude from the herberg said he knew you, from Hogwart. So I talked to him a bit, because I wanted to know how to get to Hogwart, but it's unplottable, or something. He said you were in the same year. Not friends. And you were a dead eater."
Draco looked out into the street. How much did he have to fill him in, what had Potter said? So he asked him. Markus knew a bit, what happened in the war, and he told him the short version of the things he didn't know. And Markus was impressed by all the things he heard. Impressed, or appalled.
"You would have wanted me dead, then? Your parents wanted me dead? People like me? Halbblut-Zauberer…"
"Back then, I was another person, Markus. I don't think that anymore."
"Sorry, Draco. I think I need some time to think about this…" he looked sideways with eyes that Draco didn't recognise - fear and hate were clearly visible.
So he let Markus walk back to the pub by himself. And he walked back to Hogwarts, where he hardly slept. And almost sleep walked through Potions Classes, going through the motions, allowing for quite a few brews to explode. Later that day he went out to Hogsmeade again, and found Markus at the bar of the Inn, drinking a pint of ale. Draco was smiled at, although it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You need to understand that my family, my mother was tortured by dead eaters, when I was little." Markus started, once they had found a table to sit at. "Anna remembers it better, but it was so horrible for a while."
"I promise you, I'm nothing like that anymore..." Draco took his hand and pulled it towards his mouth. "If I've learnt anything from what happened nineteen years ago, it was that this ideology, this insane belief, it is horse shite… and I wouldn't want a world that you weren't a part of…"
Markus looked at Draco, then nodded. "I know, you were not like that… Not exactly… But I don't know if I… What Anna would say if I knew… And we were still together..."
"I understand…" Draco said softly. He let go of Markus' hand dejectedly.
"We suffered, Draco. My father suffered, he still has nightmares."
"Okay," was all he could say. Where could they go from here? Was there a way of getting back?
Markus went quite soon after that, leaving Draco sitting in the chair staring out in front of him. The pub had filled up already, with wizards and witches hoping for a good night out, and he couldn't feel more like a sore thumb if he tried. He looked around him, seeing the many happy faces, and decided to go back to Hogwarts, not seeing any point in being amongst them anymore, when someone put a pint of ale in front of him on the table. Draco looked up to see who presented him with it, and once again looked into green eyes, belonging to Potter.
"You looked like you needed it," he said, smiling.
"Well, um, thanks?" Draco answered, perplexed. What a nice gesture. But why?
"I noticed your chap left, are you okay?" Potter took the chair that Draco motioned he'd seat himself on.
"No, not really. I think we just broke up again…"
"Ah, that sounds unpleasant."
"Do you ever get the feeling the past will never really leave you alone?" Draco sighed, and looked sideways, at a kindly smiling Potter. A kindly smiling, oddly appealing Potter. Oddly appealing, and utterly annoying. Like he had been two decades ago, he realised. At the height of their animosity, when they could have so easily destroyed each other.
"Most days, yeah…" Potter grinned. "Which bit was it this time?"
"Actually, Potter, you had a hand in this one…"
"Oh? How then?" There was that dense look again - not much had changed.
"Telling him I was a Death Eater… He took offence to that…"
"Oh, that… Well, he asked if we were friends, back in the day, and I assumed he knew that you were… What you were, back then."
"He didn't…"
"Well, I wasn't to know… Has he never seen… Does he not know the Dark Mark on your arm, what it means?"
"Guess not. He never asked, and I assumed he just thought it was a weird tattoo. I had another done, to kind of have it blend in a bit," Draco noticed Potter's eyes drifting to his arm and he considered revealing the mark, but thought the better of it. There might be people here who'd take offence. "I just hoped it would never come up, and I could just pretend all that was in the past. But it never really is, is it?"
"There's always something, or someone who remembers. Who wants to know, or remind you, or take something out." Potter grinned.
"At least over there I could be fairly anonymous," Draco nodded in the general direction of mainland Europe.
"God, I'd kill for anonymous some days…"
"That's why you sit in a pub in Hogsmeade, writing books…?" Draco grinned now.
"It's a living!"
"The famous Harry Potter writes children's books! Talk about wasting your talents!"
"What else should I do then? Rest on my laurels? Take up gardening?"
"Teach Defence Against the Dark Arts! You're fantastic at that…" Draco was reminded of a few of Potter's spells against his own, and was once again impressed by his abilities.
"Not while James is still there… He gets enough grief as it is, with me as his dad…"
"M'yeah, I suppose you have a point… not about the grief, but I'd be mortified if my dad had been a teacher when I was fifteen…" Both men laughed out loud at this, and their eyes met for a moment. A brief instant where none of their past mattered, or maybe mattered to the utmost, and finally they were able to be on an even keel. Potter was just a bloke, a charming, good-looking, kind guy, one he'd probably eye up were he to walk past him in here. If they'd never been to Hogwarts together, in the same year, on opposite sides. He felt himself get warm at the thought.
"I had considered it, actually," Potter carried on, after what seemed like forever. "McGonagall had asked me, about two years ago. But I just couldn't see myself doing it - teaching, explaining, being reminded of times when I had to use certain spells."
Draco nodded. "I think you'd be great, personally…"
"Thanks…" that kind smile again.
They carried on talking for a while, until Draco remembered that he'd have to be teaching in the morning, and going back to Hogwarts would probably be a good idea. Chatting with Potter was fun, though, and it had taken his mind off Markus completely. He got up and told Potter he had to get going.
"Let me walk with you a bit. I could do with some fresh air," Potter said, and on Draco's smile got up and spelled for a coat. Together they walked out of the door and soon breathed in the autumn air.
"Don't think I'll ever get bored with this time of year here in Scotland, when I think of it," Draco broke the silence.
"Hmm…" Potter replied. "As much as I love Devon, nothing beats here…"
The light of the moon made the lake glisten in the distance, and a few owls swooped overhead, carrying post on their legs. Draco noticed Potter look at them with a kind of melancholy.
When they reached the turning for the castle, both stopped.
"I'll let you get on," Potter spoke, reluctance in his voice.
"You can come along if you want…" Draco heard himself say, staring Potter in the eye intently.
Potter let out a noise that revealed his surprise. One that Draco himself shared.
"Malfoy, are you drunk?"
"Maybe a little…"
"Maybe it's not a good… I mean I'd like to be with… you…"
"Potter…"
"Harry, please call me Harry…"
"I don't want to be alone tonight…" he tried to sound as confident as possible, when he felt anything but. "Harry…"
"Come back to the Broomsticks with me…"
"I don't know…"
"It'll be less weird than having me there," Potter - Harry - nodded towards the castle. Then he grabbed his hand, gently, and pulled him, also gently, closing the gap between them. Fingers touched his face, pushing hair away from his forehead. Why was this not feeling a lot weirder than it should be? Harry Potter was inches away from him, his lips were almost touching Draco's and all he could think about was how annoyingly far away they were. So he moved to kiss him, carefully at first. Harry's fingers were moving into his hair now, and both increased the intensity of the kiss very fast.
Draco couldn't recall the moment they had Apparated back to the Three Broomsticks, as everything was a blur until he had woken up that morning, with Harry's arms around his waist, and the sound of him breathing peacefully in his ear. All he remembered was a lot of brilliant kisses, gorgeous sex, and Potter proving to be rather amazing with his knowledge of spells. He made a mental note of asking him about them at a later stage.
Was there to be one, of course. He shouldn't get ahead of himself - for all he knew Harry was only scratching an itch, and he himself had indicated this was only a one off.
...o0o0o0o…
So it had only taken twenty years to get him in his bed… well, twenty two from the moment he realised that Draco Malfoy was hot. Since he figured that the Slytherin slime ball was in fact the reason he was having raunchy thoughts when he was supposed to be concentrating on defeating Lord fucking Voldemort. And the bastard only managed to become even hotter in the intervening years…
Shame this was never going to go anywhere. Malfoy - Draco - was clearly on the rebound, not over his relationship with the cute German boy, and Harry was only a convenient station along the way. He watched him get dressed, get ready to go back to Hogwarts, to teach an extra Potions class to an eager Year 7 - the one he got denied, all those years ago… He was smiled at, coyly almost, and kissed goodbye, and then he was left alone. His bed had never felt so empty.
~ to be continued ~