"I don't know about you two," Pansy says as they make their way over to the elevators again. "But I am starving."

"You should have let us have a proper breakfast then," Potter says. She rolls her eyes at him and ignores the comment.

"Draco, any ideas about what to do for lunch?" She looks over at him, but he is staring perplexedly at his watch. He keeps prodding it with his fingers and then watching to see if anything happens, which as he's not using his wand, nothing does.

"What?" he asks, looking up at her.

"Lunch, darling. Where would you like to go?"

"Preferably somewhere where we can talk without fear of people overhearing," Potter adds.

"Yes, preferably somewhere muggle."

"Why are you asking me?" Draco snaps. "You two are probably both more acquainted with the kind of restaurant you're looking for than I would be. I barely ever make it out of Diagon Alley."

"You'd been to Chelsea," Potter points out and Draco turns on him, angrily.

"Yes, and you managed to somehow pick the only restaurant in Muggle London that I had been to. Well done, Potter." Potter throws his arms up in surrender.

"Sorry, would you like me to suggest a place?"

"Please," Pansy says. She lifts her hand up and examines her nails ignoring the pair of them. She is not overly thrilled about being assigned as one of Draco's handlers, but then at the same time, the Reliquary project is one of the Ministry's more important projects, so she is honored to have been chosen to be on the team. She wonders how Potter feels about it. He had not seemed thrilled when Granger had announced that he would be Draco's handler. She figures he still harbors ill will for him after Hogwarts, though they had seemed chummy enough last night. But then, Potter is trained to portray his emotions in a certain way.

And yet, when she had knocked on Potter's door this morning, she could have sworn that Draco had been naked in the bed behind him. But that can't have been right, could it? She had only seen a flash of Draco before Potter had obstructed her view, so perhaps she was leaping to conclusions. And if there was one thing that had been drilled into her since day one of Hit Wizard training, it was not to jump to conclusions.

Plus, Potter wouldn't be that unprofessional. Not if he knew Draco was the new Reliquary and that they might be working together. Pansy pushes the very idea of impropriety from her mind.

"How do people feel about Pizza Express?" Potter asks, cutting into her thoughts. She looks up from her nails, which are painted to perfection in scarlet, with nary a hangnail to be seen. She shrugs.

"Sure," she says. She glances at Draco who looks less than thrilled but who nods anyway.

"Right then," Potter says. "Shall we Floo to my house then? We can go to the Pizza Express on my corner."

"Is that wise?" Pansy asks. "After all, you were almost kidnapped at the other restaurant near your house." Potter scowls.

"Actually, I don't want pizza," Draco says. Potter throws up his arms in exasperation again.

"Fine," he says. "Someone else decide."

"Oh, stop being so melodramatic, Potter," Pansy says. "Draco, what do you want?" Draco frowns at his watch for another moment before he finally drops his arm. She stares at him, letting the silence drag on.

"Sushi?" he hazards. Pansy raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Not sushi?"

"Sushi is fine with me," she says. "I was just surprised you wanted it."

"What kind of uncultured cretin do you think I am?"

"I don't know. You do live with Greg," she says. Draco scowls at her and Pansy realizes with a shock that she's going to have to see Greg again on this assignment. She hasn't seen him since Seventh Year, although she had barely seen him then. He and Vince had been the Carrows' favorites and they were often missing from the common room until the early hours of the morning.

Unbidden, a memory washes over her. Not long before the Battle of Hogwarts, she had been up late in the common room studying for a Charms exam the following day, when Greg and Vince had come in, chuckling and nudging each other. At first she had thought nothing of it, but it quickly became clear that they hadn't noticed her. Vince had lifted up his sleeve and pointed at something on his arm. Pansy had been unable to see what as Greg had been standing in her line of sight.

"Can you believe it?" he'd asked Greg.

"Only because it still stings so much," Greg had responded. Then he had moved and Pansy had caught a flash of a dark ink on Vince's pale arm. Her breath had caught in her throat and she had settled deeper in her chair, hiding herself from view with her Charms book. Greg had then punched Vince playfully on the arm and they had made their way up to bed, still chuckling. Pansy hadn't spoken to either of them again.

And now she would be working next to Greg at Flourish and Blotts. She wonders if he's still the same as he had been in school. Draco has changed a bit, but under his somewhat more mature exterior, she can still see flashes of the prickly teenager he had been.

"Yo! Sushi, then?" Potter asks. Pansy blinks at him, unsure for a moment what he is talking about. Then she nods.

"Sounds good," she says. "Where's that?"

"Fulham Broadway."

"Great, let's go." She starts to walk towards the exit, but Potter stops her.

"We should still Floo to my house," he says. She frowns at him. "What? We then have to catch a bus, so we'll be inconspicuous." She makes a face. She hates Muggle buses. They always seem so slow, as constricted by traffic as they are. She sighs.

"Fine." She takes a quick glance at Draco, but he seems unconcerned about the whole Muggle public transit thing. That is unexpected. Perhaps he had changed more than she had thought.

Draco stares at the plates as they float by him. He is fascinated by the restaurant that Potter has taken them to, where they do not order, but instead they pick up food from tiny floating platforms that circle the kitchen area of the restaurant. He has yet to pick anything up - he has been too busy watching each thing go by. He can't tell what most of them are, but he decides that is a fun challenge. Or, it will be once he actually takes some food.

He notices Potter staring at him and he rounds on the brunet.

"What?"

"Nothing," Potter says quickly. "But, you do know that you can just take a plate off there and just eat it, right?"

"I'm not stupid."

"I wasn't suggesting you were." Potter turns away and concentrates instead on trying to pick up the nigiri in front of him with his chopsticks. He is struggling in a way that Draco almost finds endearing, but also that he somewhat judges him for.

Draco sighs and picks up the next salmon roll that floats by. He snaps open his chopsticks and expertly picks up a piece and transfers it to his mouth. He sees both Pansy and Potter staring at him out of the corner of his eye and ignores them. Did they think he had never been to Japan? Or never used chopsticks before? Potter clearly had not been concentrating the night before. But then, Draco realizes, he isn't sure if Potter had used chopsticks or a fork at dinner, so he clearly had been focused on other things too.

"Yum," he says once he has finished his bite. "Good choice me." He pops another piece in his mouth, then turns to stare back at the pair of them. Pansy rolls her eyes and mouths show off at him.

He winks at her. And then realizes that by winking at her, he was somewhat winking at Potter and that was not what he had meant to do. After all, he's not allowed to flirt anymore. They're coworkers now. Potter is in charge of his protection. That, and he's still pissed off about him not telling him about Oliver.

about Oliver hurts. Perhaps Hannah was right. Perhaps he should think about the fact that he is now fake-dating Harry Fucking Potter, who is arguably a better catch than Oliver Wood. But who is not actually his boyfriend, despite their nighttime activities of the night before.

He turns his attention back to the passing food, desperate to think about neither Wood nor Potter. He realizes he is bloody starving and wants to eat everything. He wonders if the Ministry is paying for lunch and voices this question aloud.

"Oh," Pansy says, chopsticks paused halfway to her plate. "I hadn't thought. What do you reckon, Potter?" Potter shrugs. His mouth is full.

"And on that note," Draco adds. "How will this whole thing work? Does the Ministry pay for our cover dates?"

"I'm not really sure there will be cover dates," Pansy says at the same time as Potter says,

"Yes, they will." Pansy puts her hands up in surrender.

"It's your department," she mutters.

"Yes," Potter agrees in a rather clipped tone. "It is. No offense, Parkinson, but I think it might be best if I laid out the ground rules and brought Malfoy up to speed on how our cover will work." Pansy stares at Potter coolly for a moment before she shrugs and turns back to her food.

"Right then," Potter says, turning back to Draco. "As I was saying, the Ministry will cover the bill for any of our dates. I imagine most of our dates will really be cover for missions or training sessions, but you never know. Parkinson can keep an eye on you during the day while you're at Flourish and Blotts, and then I can meet you and walk you home." Draco tries to protest that he was capable of walking himself home, but Potter ignores him and continues,

"If Hermione needs you to identify something during work hours, one of us will discreetly take you aside, likely to the break room, or some other such private place.

"I imagine there will be many times that Parkinson and I will then need to follow up on whatever you've been able to tell us, and for those times, you'll be on your own."

Draco grabs another plate as it floats by. He doesn't even look at what it is, just begins to stuff food into his face while Potter drones on. He goes through several plates of sushi before he interrupts.

"Quick question," he says. Potter stops talking, mid sentence. His mouth hangs open for a moment before he closes it. "Where will you be sleeping?" Potter blinks owlishly at him. Behind him, Draco can see Pansy smirk into her soup. "I only ask because, uh, I didn't come home last night. So Greg is going to have ideas about how fast our relationship is moving." He does not add that Greg would be right.

Pansy is now shaking slightly with suppressed laughter and Draco knows that it is because she thinks she orchestrated this turn of events. In a way, she did. Potter chews his lip for a moment.

"I hadn't thought about that," he says finally. "I guess we'll have to play that one by ear." Draco nods. He's not sure what made him ask the question in the first place.

After all, having Potter around will make keeping their relationship professional even more difficult. As it is, Draco is oh so aware of how close they are sitting. They are so close that he can feel the warmth coming off of Potter's body. If he were to shift his knee slightly to the right, he could "accidentally" hit Potter's. And Merlin does he now want to, if just to see what reaction he could get. Because Potter has been talking so clinically about their cover relationship that Draco almost can't believe he is the same man he shared a shower with just a few hours ago.

"I suppose I should take you home to meet Greg," Draco says. "Or, rather, to reintroduce you to Greg."

"Yes," Pansy says enthusiastically. "You can tell him just how great your date went." This time, both Draco and Potter glare at her while she smiles innocently back at them. Draco can tell that she is enjoying this. He wonders if she suspects that he doesn't mind as much as she seems to think he does. He wouldn't put it past her. He had often been surprised that Pansy hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw.

"And what will you do during that time?" Potter asks. She shrugs.

"Go home? I reckon you can handle him until work tomorrow."

"I don't work Mondays," Draco says. Pansy practically cackles with glee.

"In which case, Potter, I think you can handle our precious Draco until Tuesday while I get caught up on paperwork and sleep."

"That hardly seems fair," Potter mumbles.

"Yes, well, sometimes life isn't fair," Pansy says.

"And don't I fucking know it."

"Oh, get over yourself."

"I beg your pardon, Parkinson?"

"Are you deaf? I said get over yourself. You're not the only one who's had a hard life."

Potter looks like he is going to either yell at Pansy or hit her, but instead he takes a deep breath, clenches and un-clenches his hands and then takes a big sip of his water. When he speaks, it is with barely controlled anger.

"I know you're the reason Oliver is dead." His voice is soft and his eyes are hard as he stares at her. Pansy sighs and shakes her head, suddenly serious. Draco feels like someone has poured cold water over his insides. He stops eating and stares at Pansy, not wanting to believe what Potter just said.

"No, Potter," she says. "Oliver is the reason that Oliver is dead. He did that to himself." She turns and stares straight ahead, her mouth set in a firm line. Draco drops his chopsticks and they clatter onto his plate, but no one notices.

"You were fucking there," Potter spits. "You were the last person to see him." At this point, his voice catches and he balls his fists in his lap. Pansy's head snaps around again.

"It was my job, Potter," she says coldly. "He broke into a Ministry facility to steal Ministry property. What the fuck else was I supposed to do? Just let him go? He stole the fucking Reliquary and when I cornered him, he clearly felt he would rather die than tell us why. And I was too slow to stop him, even though I bloody well tried." Draco's head is pounding and he has to tell himself to take slow breaths.

"Perhaps you should have tried harder."

"Oh, you think I don't fucking know that? Where the hell do you get off telling me I should have been able to stop him when perhaps you should have stopped him before-"

"-Don't you dare suggest that I knew anything about this." Potter is clenching his fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. Draco continues to watch their argument, getting very distinct flashbacks of watching his parents fight and neither of them noticing his distress.

"Oh, of course not," Pansy says. "Why would Saint Potter ever be mixed up in something untoward?"

"I swear to you, I knew nothing about this. I was as blind sided as the rest of us were."

"Sure you were."

"I said, I fucking knew nothing," Potter growls. Draco can feel the tension literally building in the air, and it is only when the corner of Potter's napkin starts smoldering, that he realizes it's not tension, but rather Potter's magical energy. Draco shivers. He had been unaware that Potter was quite so powerful. Pansy clearly notices, because Draco watches as her face cycles through several emotions: surprise, alarm, irritation and then resignation.

"Whatever," she says, throwing up her hands. "Croaker believes you and I suppose that's good enough for me. But you need to understand that it is not my fault he died I tried to stop him. But I couldn't…" she trails off, her lip suddenly trembling. She pulls herself together after a moment and her face turns hard again. "Look, I understand how you're feeling. I've lost partners too. It's shit. And I'm sorry for being insensitive."

Potter unclenches his fists, notices his napkin for the first time and pats out the embers. He looks side to side to check if anyone noticed, and both Pansy and Draco pretend not to have seen anything.

Draco is still shaking. With this new information, he has even more questions about Oliver and he can't decide if he wants to know or he would rather bury his head in the sand. He takes another couple of calming breaths and then picks up his chopsticks again. As he does, he feels Potter's knee press against his and although he doesn't know if it is deliberate or not, it still has the effect of calming him.

"I accept your apology, Parkinson," Potter says after a long pause. "And I'm sorry for flying off the handle. I've lost so many people in my life you would think I would be used to it."

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter," Draco surprises himself by saying. Potter turns to look at him. "No one should ever be 'used to losing people'." Potter shrugs and Draco shakes his head at him. "No."

"Either way, Parkinson, I'm sorry." He holds out a hand, which Pansy takes and they shake.

"Apology accepted," she says. "But you still have to deal with Draco for two days. I really do have a shit ton of paperwork to do. Which, may I point out, is also not fair. Or fun. At least Draco talks."

"This is true," Draco says. "It's one of my many skills."

The rest of the meal is spent in relative calm. Harry is still embarrassed that he let his anger get out of control the way that it did, so he has tried to quell his emotions as best he can anytime Parkinson speaks. He knows he is being unfair to her about Oliver, but it fucking hurts any time that he thinks about it, and at that moment, all he wanted to do was lash out at someone. But that still doesn't make it fair. And so now he also feels like a bit of a dick.

And on top of that, he'd been an insensitive jerk when he had blindsided Malfoy with the information that Parkinson was there when Oliver had died. He had been so wrapped up in his own emotions, he hadn't noticed how upset the other man was until he'd set a fucking napkin aflame.

Parkinson had left before the bill even arrived, saying that she trusted Harry to pay and fill out the reimbursement paperwork without her. He can't blame her for wanting to scarper as soon as she had the opportunity. Of course, this just makes him feel like even more of a dick, but he understands.

Which means he is stuck with Malfoy, who he can't get a read on. If anything, Harry imagines he is overwhelmed. He knows he would be, were he in Malfoy's shoes.

He feels like he should start some sort of conversation, but his mind is coming up empty. So he sits and twiddles his thumb until the bill arrives. He fumbles in his pocket for his wallet, and his elbow brushes Malfoy's arm. In spite of himself, a thrill goes through Harry's stomach. Fuck, but that's not helping anything. Nothing can happen, aside from what they have to pretend to the rest of the world.

He pulls out a credit card and places it on top of the bill without even glancing at it. Their waiter takes it away and Harry resumes fiddling his thumbs.

"You're not going to talk to me?" Malfoy asks. Harry looks up in surprise.

"Well, you weren't saying anything," Harry protests.

"Neither were you."

"Then it seems we are at an impasse." Malfoy narrows his eyes. He reaches over and picks up his water.

"So what's the plan then?" he asks once he has taken a sip.

"Plan?"

"Yes, for the rest of the day."

"There isn't one."

"What? No training? Or going over more details of our fake relationship?"

"What else is there to go over?" Harry asks, confused. "I asked you out, you said yes. We went on a great date last night and we hit it off."

"I mean, like what are we allowed to do? To convince people that it's real? Can I kiss you? How handsy are you? If we're in the same room, in a casual situation, where do we sit in relation to each other?"

"Can I keep my hand in your back pocket?" Harry asks, interrupting Malfoy's string of questions.

"There's no need to be snippy. These are legitimate questions. And perhaps it's not something you've discussed before, but I'm new to this and I need to know where I stand. Or, even, where I fake stand."

"Do whatever feels natural," Harry says. Their waiter comes back with the receipt and he spends a few moments figuring out the tip. He is a bit surprised at the total, but then he looks over at the stack of plates that Malfoy has made his way through and it makes sense. As he is signing the check, he feels a hand on his leg. The pen veers off the paper and onto the table as he starts in surprise.

"You said to do what felt natural," Malfoy all but purrs into his ear.

"I did, didn't I?" Harry says. "But I would also argue, there's no need for the charade right now."

"No?" Malfoy asks, pouting but still not removing his hand. "But what if there are other wizards about? Or, better yet, the Prophet?" Harry groans. "What? If your cover is that you're Harry Potter, and my cover is that I'm your boyfriend, the Prophet is bloody going to have to find out at some point." At this, Malfoy sits back and removes his hand. "Which," he says more quietly. "Means my parents will find out." And then even more quietly. "Fuck."

"They won't approve of me?"

"They, ah, don't actually know I'm gay."

"Oh."

"Yes." Malfoy is silent for a long moment and stares at the wall behind Harry's shoulders. Then he snaps to attention. "Well, no time like the present, I suppose. How do you feel about Wiltshire?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"How do you feel about going to Wiltshire? I know you probably don't have the most pleasant memories of my house, but then again, neither do I."

"You're suggesting we go to your house? Right now?" Harry asks. Of all the things he had expected Malfoy to say, this had not even factored in. Malfoy's mouth twists from side to side while he appears to think it over.

"Yes," he says eventually. "I mean, if that's alright with you. It's just if my parents find out that I prefer men from the newspaper, it is quite possible they will never speak to me again. Of course, that's a possibility either way, but this fucking book is really forcing my hand now. And maybe this way, my mother will finally stop trying to set me up with various female family friends over holidays."

Harry can't help but snort in amusement at the idea of Malfoy being subjected to his mother's matchmaking. Mrs. Weasley has tried it with him too many times to count now. It is kind of her to try, even after he and Ginny had broken up.

"Alright," Harry says, even though he's not sure it's the best idea. "Let's go to bloody Wiltshire."

Draco stares up at the Malfoy Manor gates. They are tall and imposing, made of wrought iron, with twin Ms at the top, painted in gold. He knows these gates well - how could he not? But standing outside of them with Potter makes them feel oddly imposing. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders and takes a step forward. He reaches out and pushes the closest gate. It opens at his touch, and he ushers Potter inside before following.

When he lets go of the gate, it clangs shut behind them. Draco tries to pretend the sound isn't menacing. Without thinking, he reaches out and takes Potter's hand. Potter, to his credit, does not immediately snatch his hand away, but instead looks curiously at Draco.

"I need moral support," Draco says by way of explanation. "And you're all I've got." Potter shrugs but does not take his hand away. They start to walk down the driveway. The pale, white gravel crunches under their feet. Draco rarely comes this way, as he usually takes the Floo straight to the house, but this is the only way when bringing a guest. Although, this is the first guest Draco has brought home in a while. (The last had been Hannah, whom his mother had adored and then been disappointed to learn was just a friend.)

Draco's heart is hammering in his chest and he is worried he will falter on the walk to the house. But somehow, he manages it. And then he stares up at the Manor itself. All grey stone and gothic architecture. The doors open, seemingly of their own accord, but as he and Potter cross the threshold, a house elf peeks out from behind the oak.

"Master Draco," it squeaks. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Where are they?" he asks, looking around as if his parents are hidden behind one of the tapestries in the entrance hall.

"The South Drawing Room, sir." Draco nods and goes left down the corridor. He doesn't say anything to Potter. He doesn't have to. The brunet is still holding his hand. Draco lets it drop.

Narcissa and Lucius are engaged in a game of Wizard's Chess when they enter the drawing room. Draco is surprised. He has not seen them do much aside from drink and sleep since the War. But then, he hasn't been home in a while.

"Mother," he says. "Father." They look up, startled, but Narcissa recovers quickly and gets gracefully to her feet. She glides across the floor and embraces him.

"Hello darling," she says into his hair. He returns the hug quickly before letting go. Lucius stays where he is, but nods in Draco's direction. And then they notice Potter. Draco can actually tell the moment that Lucius realizes there is another person there, as he stiffens slightly in surprise. Narcissa's smile, which was already on her face, takes on more of a fixed look.

"Mr. Potter," she says. She walks over to him and extends her hand. "How nice to see you." Potter returns the handshake warmly, clasping his mother's hand in both of his. Narcissa turns back to Draco.

"Draco, darling," she says. "To what do we owe this pleasure?" She walks over to the fireplace and picks up a small bell. She rings it once to summon a house elf, who appears moments later with a loud crack. "Tea, please," she says. "For four."

"Oh, mother, we can't stay," Draco starts to say.

"I'm afraid I will not take no for an answer." She crosses the room again. This time she sits down in what Draco knows is her favorite chair. Lucius sighs and stands, moving over to sit opposite his wife.

"Come sit down, son," he says. "You know how your mother is." Draco looks helplessly over at Harry, but the other man is already making his away over to the sofa. Draco sighs, beaten, and sits down next to Potter. There is a an uncomfortable silence as they all stare at each other, and then Narcissa asks again,

"Do what do we owe this visit?"

"Right," Draco says. "That." He feels his hands start to sweat and he wipes them nervously on his trousers. He wants to reach out to Potter again, but he can't. His heart is racing and his tongue is dry in his mouth. He wishes now that he had waited until dinner time, or at least perhaps cocktail hour. This would be so much easier with alcohol in his system. And in theirs. He takes a deep breath and then blurts out,

"I'm gay."

"Sorry?" Lucius asks.

"I'm gay," he says again. "I like men. Er- in that way." He should have started with some sort of preamble. But he's said it now and he can't go back and start this conversation over, as much as he would like to. Narcissa stands, walks back to the fireplace and rings the bell again.

Crack.

"Cancel the tea. We would like some gin," she says. "Please bring the cocktail set."

Crack. The house elf disappears. Narcissa returns to her seat. It is going about as well as he had expected. And at least no one has thrown anything. Yet.

"I'm sorry," Draco says.

"For what?" his mother asks.

"For springing this on you like this. I meant to kind of lead up to it, but I was just so nervous that-"

"-Yes, darling. That is what the gin is for."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, look at you. You're on tenterhooks over there." She stands again and makes her way over to him. He sits, frozen, unsure of what is going on and jumps when she starts to smooth down his hair.

There is another loud crack, and a house elf appears with an ice bucket, four tumblers, four bottles of tonic water, a plate of lime slices and a large bottle of gin. Narcissa leaves Draco and deftly makes him a gin and tonic with practiced hands. She hands it to him and he takes it, still dumbstruck. He takes a tentative sip. Merlin, his mother has a heavy hand when it comes to drinks.

He watches in silence, sipping his gin with a hint of tonic water, while his mother makes three more and passes them out. Potter doesn't protest, but nods politely and takes one. Narcissa sits down again and stares intently at Draco.

"Now, where were we?" she asks. She smooths her skirt over her knees.

"Draco is gay," Lucius says.

"Right, yes. Go on, dear," Narcissa says.

"What do you mean 'go on'?" Draco asks.

"I figured you had more to say."

"I thought you might have more of a reaction," Draco says. He's not sure if he actually would have preferred more of a reaction. Every time he had gone over this conversation in his head, his parents had been upset. There had been tears and yelling. This calm nonchalance is unnerving.

"Oh, please," his mother says. "I've known you since you were born. You think I didn't see this coming?"

"But you always try to set me up with Greg's sister!" Draco protests. At this, Narcissa laughs.

"I do, don't I?" She lifts her glass to her lips and takes a rather large drink from it. "Well, you know. I have appearances that I have to keep up. I had to make it look like I was trying to marry you off." Draco stares at her uncomprehendingly. "And I was waiting for you to come out to us before I tried to set you up with any eligible bachelors."

"I don't need setting up, Mother. I have a boyfriend."

"Which," Potter interjects. "Is where I come in." Lucius turns to him and raises an eyebrow. Anyone observing this, could tell that this was where Draco had learned how to do it.

"You?" Lucius asks. Ah, Draco thinks. Here's where the throwing things begins.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," Potter says. "I am dating your son." Lucius's lips press together in a thin line.

"And we figured it was best to come and tell you in person," Draco says. "Before, you know, it was in the Prophet or something."

"That's very considerate of you," Narcissa says. She turns to Lucius. "Well dear, you owe me fifty galleons." Lucius grumbles. Draco splutters. Potter snorts with laughter.

"What?" Draco cries once he can form words again.

"I don't think this bet should still count," Lucius says. "We made it years ago."

"Years ago?" Draco looks helplessly over at Potter who is biting his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"How long ago was it, Cissa?" Lucius asks. Narcissa twists her mouth as she thinks.

"Fifteen years? Maybe seventeen? Do you remember that day I took you to get your robes fitted in Madame Malkins? And you met Potter for the first time. You wouldn't shut up about him all summer. It was all 'Do you think Harry will be my friend? I know we got off on the wrong foot, but maybe he'll come around. Oh, mum, what if he gets sorted into Slytherin!'"

"I nearly was," Potter says. Draco spits out the mouthful of gin he had just taken to help cope with the fact that his mother was embarrassing him.

"You were? What do you mean almost?" Potter shrugs.

"This probably isn't the right time to have this conversation," he says. "Suffice to say, I wasn't." Draco frowns and files it away for another time. He turns back to his mother.

"So you and Dad have had a bet that I would go out with Harry Potter since I was eleven?" Narcissa gives him an embarrassed smile.

"Yes," she says.

"But what if he'd been straight?"

"That's part of the reason the odds were fifty to one on it ever happening," Lucius says.

"Only fifty to one?"

"Draco, darling," Narcissa says. "You should have heard yourself. Every summer you would come home and talk about all the things Potter had done. You were a tad obsessed."

"Yes, because I hated him." Draco is on the edge of his seat now. He puts his drink down in irritation.

"Did you though?" Potter asks, a small smile playing across his face.

"Quiet you," Draco snaps. He crosses his arms and glares around at them all. Lucius lounges in his chair, lazily sipping at his drink. Narcissa blinks serenely back at him. Potter takes him by surprise, by reaching out a hand and tugging one of his arms away.

"Don't look so grumpy," he says. Draco continues to scowl at him, but allows Potter to uncross his arms and take his hand. Narcissa puts a hand across her chest.

"You two are precious," she says. She smiles at them, a warm, motherly smile and Draco feels his irritation melting away, replaced instead with a more mild irritation that he hadn't come out to his parents earlier. It would have saved him so much heartache.