7.

"I hope you feel proud of yourself," Harry heard, and he smiled slowly. Grey eyes were locked into his, moving away at times to see where his hands went, stroking Harry's face tenderly. His own hand was resting on the mattress, touching Draco's chest, the warmth of his skin radiating under the blankets. They had been lying there, in near-silence, slowly waking up, taking on board the reality of where they were, and what they had been doing.

Harry had felt excitement when he woke, at sensing Draco's body next to his, similar to how he had felt back in Hogsmeade, only then his illusions had been shattered by Draco leaving, his hopes dashed that his school time crush (as he finally admitted to himself back in the Three Broomsticks, as it had been sitting there under layers of the crap he was dealing with at Hogwarts) was finally reciprocated, and then he disappeared again, after a night of unbridled passion. Harry had been astonished by what he had felt, then, and what he supposed Draco had felt, how well they seemed to fit together. His adversary for so many years, the man he believed to be out for his blood, had been so sweet, so tender and allowed himself to be so vulnerable in Harry's hands, that night...

Now he found himself by his side once more, and this time there was no intention of anyone going anywhere, and Harry felt a smidgen of hope.

"I feel incredibly proud, thanks," Harry smiled back. "Specific reason?"

Draco moved his hand onto Harry's, and stroked it gently.

"The last time I pulled a sicky was about eight years ago, I think. Can't even recall what the… Oh no, I do recall… Markus made me… Never mind," Draco closed his eyes, blushing a bit. Either the memory was raunchy, or he felt embarrassed to recollect anything to do with Markus. Maybe both.

"Well, anything to aid your downfall, Mr Malfoy…" Harry looked serious as he spoke.

Draco's eyes scanned Harry's for a bit, and he smiled.

"All part of my twenty year plan to get my hands on you. It's in my mission statement when I started as an auror." Harry spoke earnestly, watching Draco snigger.

"It was your mission statement to get me into bed with you?!," he grinned, and moved up to kiss Harry on the lips. "You can carry on perfecting that, report back to the Ministry, if you wish…"

"Yeah, okay," Harry sniggered, as he embraced Draco tightly. They carried on kissing for a while, languidly touching each other. There was no rush, time was not important.

After a while, they resumed their previous pose, each lying on their side, facing one another, Harry draping his arm over Draco, relaxed smiles meeting. Draco moved a hand to stroke Harry's face.

"Strange thought, isn't it?" Draco spoke, quietly.

"What is?" Harry replied, moving his arm so his hand was resting on warm skin.

"This... Us... Here... Now..." Draco grinned. "If you hadn't been wasting your days drinking in the Three Broomsticks, I would've probably not thought of you much, beyond being your son's teacher…"

"So, spotting me, grumpy and slightly inebriated, turned you on…?" Harry grinned.

"Not really." Draco smiled. "Not that, but seeing you, that evening that you were there with Weasley, when I was with the other teachers, it sparked something, I guess. For the best part of seven years you were in my thoughts daily, one way or another… And after the trials, when we all went our separate ways, Hogwarts became something that I didn't really want to be reminded of, and you were part of that past that I wished buried."

"I guess it was the same for me." Harry looked serious. "Seeing you, with Sprout and Flitwick, so relaxed and in your place, woke something that I had managed to ignore for almost twenty years. And as always, I blamed you for me feeling confused."

"Easier than dealing with it…" Draco turned a corner of his mouth into a smile. "Believe me, for years I loathed you, or so I thought, until I couldn't deny to myself that I was bloody attracted to you…"

"Back in Hogwarts?"

"Yup… Just imagine how welcome that was, back then… With all that was going on, with the stuff I was made to do, I thought I ought to do, so that… He…"

"While you were developing a crush on the guy you were supposed to eliminate…"

"Precisely…"

"You were horrible back then, though…" Harry moved his hand up to stroke Draco's face.

"Well, seen as you were the first person probably to reject me, back in Year one - you, of all people - let's say I didn't take it well… And with everything else that was going on… You stood for everything that I loathed and despised… Or so I told myself." Draco closed his eyes as he enjoyed Harry's gentle touches.

"Then, what was it about me that you liked so much?" Harry ran a thumb along his lips, was tempted to push it slightly further, then felt a jolt at feeling Draco's tongue run along it, and he sighed, then smiled as their eyes met.

"Your butt," Draco whispered, then grinned. "Well, that was a factor - you were quite fit when you were seventeen… Small, but athletic. You still are, actually..." He smiled, moving a hand to stroke said butt, then moved his hand back up to rest on his back. "But seriously, you were brave, much braver than I was… And every time you looked at me, I stopped thinking… Your eyes, the way you glared at me… You know that time in the Manor, when I had to identify you, I was horrified at what that Hex had done to your face, but what I could see of your eyes - I was sure it was you…" Draco looked at Harry's eyes, ran a finger along the soft skin underneath. "I so badly wanted to touch you then, to make you feel better…"

"Not sure if we'd've left the place alive, but I would pay to see the look on your dad's face if you had," Harry grinned. He moved a hand into Draco's hair and pulled him closer, kissing his lips slowly. Hearing Draco groan softly, as he moved back again slightly.

"I don't want to think about back then anymore," Draco breathed. "And I really don't want to think about my father…" He smiled, then kissed Harry again, and they quickly deepened it, losing themselves in each other.

For many moments they kissed and touched, caressed and made love in the relaxed, thoughtful manner they had been exploring each other, as if to make up for the many years they had been apart, misunderstood each other's intentions. Harry felt glad that they had spent all that time growing, not being the hot-headed, impulsive teens they were, fighting a war both inside and out in the world. He enjoyed Draco's ministrations, touching his body, tracing scars and other reminders of their past, helping each other reach a climax that felt amazing, and coming back down to earth while lying in each other's arms.

Harry loved being held by Draco, who embraced him tenderly, after they cast some quiet cleaning spells.

"I'd better send an owl to McGonnegal in a bit," Draco mumbled, when they had been lying together for a while, having gotten their breath back. "Can I use yours?"

Harry nodded, moving a hand to play with Draco's distractedly and smiled. "If you write it here, I can get Winky to sort out the rest."

He moved over to his bedside cupboard and grabbed a notebook he used for ideas for his novels, from which he tore a page, and a fountain pen he was given by Ginny once, and passed them on to Draco, who carried on looking comfortable next to him.

"Bit organised, so early in the morning…" Draco frowned, not wanting to get up.

"It happens…" Harry grinned, and passed the bits on to Draco, who hadn't moved much more. "If you get it out of the way now, we'll have time for other stuff."

"Good point," Draco now grinned, and grabbed the paper and pen, and set to write something about a sudden onset of sickness while in London, and he'd report back as soon as he felt better. Harry took the note and set off downstairs to give it to Winky to deal with, returning as swiftly as was humanly possible, only stalling in time to get his robe on and off again.

"Breakfast will be up in a bit," Harry said, and resumed his place in the bed, next to Draco. "Now, where were we?"

...o0o0o0o…

As James set his bag on the table, he noticed the absence of their Potions Master, who would normally be there already, sitting at his desk, looking through papers or standing by the blackboard, writing ingredients of the current potion they would be learning about. He nudged Dolores, who had decided to sit next to him, and pointed at the vacant seat at the front of the classroom.

"Where do you reckon Professor Malfoy is?" he spoke in a soft voice.

"Seriously overslept?" Dolores grinned while she shrugged. "Maybe he met 'someone' - (she elaborately signed the inverted commas, and pulled a knowing face) - this weekend, and decided to stay on?"

James grinned back, though unhappy at the thought. As much as he told himself that his feelings for Alex were all-encompassing, his crush on their Potions Master was still lingering under the surface, ready to pop out at the most inconvenient moments. Usually when he was being asked a direct question, or explained something face to face, and he was convinced his unease at being in close proximity was visible for the rest of the class to see (especially Dolores, who knew about his crush). And now he noticed that there was a hint of jealousy… What if he had met up with his dad… What if they were having a thing…

Just as he wanted to lose himself into these feelings, they heard footsteps from behind them, as someone walked into the dungeon and closed the door behind them. Hopeful, James turned to see who it was, and had to hide his disappointment at seeing their Headmistress stride towards the front of the classroom.

"Hello Year Fives…" Professor McGonnegal greeted the students in front of her when she had reached the desk. "As you can see, Professor Malfoy is not here, he has let me know that he's not feeling well, and might not be for a few days, so since you are to take your O.W.L.s this year, and should not fall behind too much, I have taken it upon myself to guide you through today's subject-matter… In as much as I'm capable…" The last sentence she mumbled, as she leafed through the notes that were in front of her, possibly directed there by Professor Malfoy, somehow. "Can anybody tell me what the last potion was that was brewed by this class?" She looked into the room hopeful, and stopped at Horace, who held up his hand. "Yes, Keats."

"The Professor was helping us revise some of the Antidotes that we have learnt, that we might get tested on."

"Ah, so I see," the Headmistress replied, finding it on the parchment in front of her. "Well, he can carry on with that once he gets back. Now, let me see… Right. How are you people on the Invigorating Draught? Have you done one of those yet?"

Lots of shaking heads answered her.

"Well, then if you could open your textbooks and find the appropriate page - I always find the Index page to be very useful here - then we can start figuring out what the ingredients are."

James grabbed the Magical Draughts And Potions book from his bag and did as he was asked.

The class turned out to be quite fun, as the Headmistress had a nice way of teaching, and the added bonus of not being distracted by the regular Potions Master was rather welcome. He actually paid attention to what he was doing, and produced a draught that bore semblance to the one Professor McGonnegal had asked for without too much effort. He showed Dolores, who gave him a look of approval.

"She should teach this class more often," he mumbled.

"It would stop you from being so bloody distracted," Dolores grinned back, and received a glare from James.

.o0o0o0o.

On the desk lay a file that Hermione had no idea how it got there. Her assistant hadn't put it there, she said, and nobody could have entered the office during the weekend, she was sure. She sat down after fetching herself a coffee and steering her coat onto the big wooden stand, and looked at the writing in the top right corner. D.L. Malfoy, it read, d.o.b. 5/6/1980. The file that was stolen last week. The one that the Ministry got it's knickers in a twist over. Why did it come to her? Because she had known him at Hogwarts? Possibly. She opened the beige/grey cover to see if all the information was still there. She had looked into it in the spring, when Minerva McGonnegal had asked her to check him out, as she had earmarked him for the Potions Master's post at the school, and wanted to be sure he was truly reliable.

The first page was a running score of his life so far in shorthand, and she glanced at it, briefly. Then her eyes did a quick look back, as she spotted something that hadn't been there in April. Marital Status: Single. Previous Relationships: 4 short term (and it stated some initials and dates of birth), 1 long term (recently terminated, M.R. d.o.b. 8/10/1985, male - residence Berlin, Germany, whom she knew to be Markus Rosenbaum). The next line tweaked her attention. In brown fountain pen, as opposed to the blue ink that was used up until then, it read 'currently in developing involvement with former Auror H.J.P., d.o.b. 31/7/1980'.

"Harry?!" she said in surprise. Malfoy was in a relationship - no, wait, developing involvement - with Harry? When did that happen?! Did Ron know about this? Harry had been living in London for a bit now, and Malfoy was teaching in Scotland, so how…? And why was the file on her desk to begin with?

Hermione drank her coffee and pondered on the information in front of her. Harry was having a thing with Draco Malfoy. Wow… That was a turn of events she hadn't seen coming, although her assessment back in the Three Broomsticks of his resemblance to Adrian in looks and manners had been on the mark, but since the trials he hadn't been in touch, she knew, and though he was staying in the pub where Malfoy sometimes had a drink with colleagues, in Hogsmeade, he never indicated being interested in the guy more than polite interest. Or had there been more to their chat by the lake that he had mentioned? The sneaky devil…

Underneath the first page was a document, also written in the brown ink, which mentioned the fact that Markus Rosenbaum had, yesterday afternoon, the 22nd of October 2017, used Polyjuice, obtained from a wizard in Diagon Alley, to hoodwink Malfoy into believing that he was his sister, Anna, one of his former colleagues, with the intention to harm him. Malfoy then apparently revealed him, after suspecting the truth, and with the aid of Harry Potter found the actual Anna Rosenbaum, who took matters into her own hands with regards to her brother. The issue had therefore been settled without the help or interference of Aurors, as was a wish initially expressed by Malfoy, according to the report.

Hermione read it though one more time to fully understand what had happened. Malfoy had been under threat from his ex-boyfriend? And Harry had helped him to sort it out?

Closing the file, she made a mental note to ask Ron about this turn of events.

.o0o0o0o.

"George! Where the bloody hell have you put the box with the… Oh never mind, found it!"

Ron pulled a large flat box from a pile and narrowly avoided the stack crashing down, potentially causing explosions, as George had a tendency to leave ingredients in the box they arrived in until he had time to index and store them. A customer had ordered a batch of cork stoppers of a certain size, for bottles with draughts that George had concocted but not put them to one side, so it fell on Ron to locate them, and Monday mornings were not a great day to have to go ploughing through the backlog of boxes that his brother hadn't bothered with yet. Ron's mind wasn't in it at all…

He had wanted to get in touch with Harry for a knees up, on Sunday. He had sent an owl, but it returned with a strange note, scribbled in almost unintelligible writing, saying 'master Potter busy with bad white hair man from Hogwarts', or at least, that's what Ron got from it. He didn't have a clue what it meant, had a hunch Harry's house elf had written it, but couldn't fathom why, or how, she would. Or what she was trying to communicate. White hair man? And a bad one at that? Malfoy? But he was in Hogwarts, teaching his daughter how to brew potions. Malfoy's dad? What would Harry be doing with him?! Ron had scratched his head and discarded the note, and went on with his day. It did however stick in his mind, somehow.

The box containing the corks stood on the table in front of him, and Ron undid the string that tied up the bag he had lifted out of it. From the two hundred that were inside, he took fifteen and put them in a brown paper bag, marked the name of the customer and their address on it and placed it on the pile of orders that would be taken to the post office later that morning. His mind drifted to the break he had planned with Hermione, and how much Hugo was looking forward to staying with his grandparents. Almost as much as they were looking forward to having him stay with them.

He smiled at the notion of his dad as a granddad - how relaxed he was with the (not quite so) little ones, how he relished showing them the things that he and the others were bored to tears with, seeing their curious faces listening to grandpa Arthur talk about sockets and plugs and transistor radios and toasters, and he felt bad for having not much of an interest in any of this when he was younger. At least Hugo was, and Lucy too, still. James was more into reading books and would sit in one of the armchairs, curled up and engrossed, and his nan would bring him mugs of tea or hot chocolate, and toasted tea bread with lashings of butter - just like she had when Ginny was younger.

The bell on the door jingled and woke Ron from his thoughts.

.o0o0o0o.

~ tbc ~