What on earth had possessed Harry to offer Draco a blowjob is beyond him. He blames his own sexual frustration and the fact that he's already had a few beers. And while he won't necessarily get off to this, he does always enjoy making other people happy. (Perhaps he should have been a Hufflepuff.)

But he's got to now. Because he's a Gryffindor, and so he's true to his word.

And is he a tiny bit excited about it? Fuck yes he is. He has wanted to see Draco's orgasm face again since that time in the shower. He wants to have that kind of power over the blond again. The power to make him gasp and moan and to make his knees go weak. To make him cry out Harry's name as he comes. Oh Potter. Fuck, yes, Potter. He dreams about doing that again. (Literally. It's a very good thing Harry's good with a wandless tergeo.)

And somehow he's gotten Draco to agree to it.

But then, who would turn down a free blowjob?

Of course this means that Harry has to plan a date, and planning a date for Draco Malfoy is not an easy task. Because in the back of his mind, Harry is somewhat thinking of this as a real date. After all, it is going to end in sexual contact.

As he sips his beer, he stares at Draco, who is now in conversation with Greg. What would Draco like? He is surprised to figure out that he thinks he knows. He would want something private. He has spent so much time with Draco over the past month or so that he thinks he has a good idea of where to take Draco.

"Hey Draco," he says suddenly, interrupting Draco and Greg's conversation about their wish for a house elf.

"What?" Draco asks, slowly turning to face Harry.

"Do you want to see a muggle film with me tomorrow night?"

"What? And risk not getting caught by the gossip witches?" Draco asks. Greg frowns at Draco, clearly confused.

"Precisely."

"Yeah, alright."

"We can go to dinner and everything if you want."

"You know, there are better ways of asking your boyfriend on a night out," Draco grumbles.

"Are there? Do tell." Draco swats him on the arm and turns back to Greg.

"I wonder if Father will let us borrow one now. I think it might have been long enough since the last time we asked."

"Doubt it," Greg said listlessly.

"Honestly you two," Harry says. "Do you want me to see if Kreacher will come over? He's old, so I don't know how much help he'll be. He hates me, but he is technically mine and he is supposed to listen to me."

"Yes please," Draco says immediately and Harry wonders if this is a setup.

"Fine," he says. "I will talk to him."

"Thank you," Draco says. He leans over and kisses Harry quickly on the cheek.

...

Kreacher, perhaps in defiance of Harry's expectations, is thrilled by the prospect of cleaning Draco's house.

"Master Malfoy is a Black!" he cries happily. "He's a member of my mistress's family! Kreacher will happily assist any member of the Black family." Then he mutters something about Draco being better than the blood traitor Harry and Harry rolls his eyes at him, but ignores the muttering.

"When shall I tell him you will be there?" Harry asks.

"Immediately," Kreacher says. "Sir," he adds sullenly. "And Kreacher can stay as long as Master Draco wants."

"Why don't we start with once a month," Harry says. Kreacher scowls.

"Of course filthy blood traitor, half blood master doesn't want Kreacher to be happy. Horrible master is horrible." Harry puts his hands on his hips and glares down at Kreacher.

"How about once a week?"

"Oh thank you, kind master." Kreacher bows so low that his nose scrapes the floor and Harry fights to keep the revulsion that he feels from crossing his face.

"Stop that," he says. "Also when you go to Mr. Malfoy's house, I would like you to wear the new towel I got for you." Thus far, Kreacher had been resistant to wearing anything but his filthy loincloth. Kreacher crosses his arms and glares at Harry in defiance. "Mr. Malfoy would prefer a nice clean towel to your current attire." At once, Kreacher's demeanor changes. His arms unfold and his back straightens.

"Of course," he says. "Anything for Master Malfoy." Harry sighs. But at least it's progress. Now if only he could get that picture of Bellatrix out from Kreacher's lair. Perhaps he can talk to Draco about that.

...

Midway through work on Saturday, Draco realizes with a jolt that his "date" with Harry this evening is much more of a date than they usually go on. He was joking when he had said they were going to a place where they were unlikely to be spotted by the press, but it's true. They're going on a date in order to actually spend time with each other.

He is suddenly nervous, which he tells himself is ridiculous, because he saw Potter this morning when they woke up in the same bed. But it's a date. During which Harry's going to get down on his knees and - Draco stops the thought right there. He's nervous enough without the promise of sexual gratification. Why did he agree to Potter giving him a blowjob in the first place? Merlin, he feels like a third year Hufflepuff going to the Yule Ball.

But really, what is he going to wear? What does one wear on a date to watch a muggle film? He hasn't the faintest idea. Muggle clothes, presumably. Nice ones.

He mentally kicks himself. He needs to stop overthinking this. He spends time with Potter all the time. This won't be any different. Except it will be says a little voice at the back of his head. He ignores it. Or, at the very least, he tries to ignore it.

...

"So what do you want to see?" Harry asks. It is evening and they are standing outside of the Muggle cinema closest to Harry's old house. Draco is bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, staring up at the front of the building where the movies are spelled out in large, black letters.

"I don't know," Draco says. He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and looks down at his feet. "I figured you were going to decide. I don't know what any of these are about."

"Draco," Harry says as a thought suddenly strikes him. He turns to the blond. "Have you ever been to the cinema before?"

"Of course," Draco snaps. "What kind of heathen do you think I am?"

"A wizard," Harry says. "I'm sure lots of wizards haven't been to the cinema. Not everyone is comfortable with muggle things."

"Fine, I'll admit that I hadn't gone until a few years ago," Draco says. "Hannah took Greg and I to see a film Ernie didn't want to see with her. I think she was trying to encourage us to be more muggle friendly."

"Did it work?"

"On me at least. I even dated a muggle."

"So you've mentioned."

"And I'm not saying any more on the topic." He twists his hands deeper into his jacket pockets.

"What did you see with Hannah?" Harry asks. Draco flushes slightly.

"Brokeback Mountain." Harry grins.

"What did you think?"

"I went back twice more to see it in the theatre."

"Oh, so you're old hat at this," Harry says.

"Hardly. I don't know any of the films that are playing now." Draco gestured up at the titles above them. "What the hell is Tropic Thunder?"

"I haven't heard of any of these either. Should we pick one at random?"

"Potter, we're not teenagers going to the cinema to make out. I at least want to see something good." Harry frowns.

"Do you want to ask for a recommendation at the box office then?" he suggests.

"How have you not planned this out better?" Draco rounds on him. "Honestly, Potter, if this were a real date, I wold not be impressed."

"No," Harry snaps, irritation flooding him. "If this were a real date, we would pick a film at random and spend most of the time making out."

"Would you prefer that?" Draco sneers.

"Would I prefer if this were a real date?" Harry asks. "Yes, I would." The words are out before he can stop them. Draco's mouth drops open in surprise.

"Well, I'm sorry that you have to pretend you're dating me and not here with someone else then," he says quietly. His eyes are downcast. Harry's heart feels like it has fallen into his heels. But Draco has given him an out and, for the sake of their professional relationship, he takes it.

"Don't be," he says. "I can't think of a better person to pretend to date." Draco frowns at him but doesn't say any more. "Look, should we just get dinner instead?"

"Alright," Draco says, nodding.

"And then we can do whatever you want with the rest of the evening."

"Whatever I want?" Draco asks. Harry nods. "In which case, I want to go clubbing." Harry raises his eyebrows but nods. "We might have to stop home first though."

"Why?"

"I need to change. This is not clubbing attire." He gestures down at his sweater and grey trousers. Harry smiles.

"It's a plan."

...

Draco had been unprepared for how much Harry's saying he would rather be out on a real date would hurt. He wonders who he would rather be out with for a moment before he realizes that train of thought is too painful. He had been so sure that Harry liked him. Their kisses had seemed so real.

So now all he wants to do is drink until he no longer feels the ache in his chest and dance until his feet hurt instead of his heart.

They eat at a steakhouse down the road from the cinema. Draco barely tastes his food. He drinks a pair of martinis and this helps him squash down some of his emotions. Harry keeps up a running conversation and Draco does his best to respond. He tries to appear normal. He doesn't want Harry to know how upset his comments had made him, because what good would that do anyway?

"So, any place in particular that you want to go after this?" Harry asks.

"Not really," Draco says. "Just somewhere with booze and music."

"I can work with that. In fact, I have the perfect place. And the bathroom stalls are big enough for my other promise tonight." Harry winks and Draco's stomach turns over. He had forgotten about that.

"You don't have to," he says dully.

"A promise is a promise," Harry insists. Draco has no response to that, so merely nods and takes a large gulp of his martini.

After dinner, they apparate home and Draco changes quickly into black leather trousers and a well fitting gray teeshirt. Then he ducks into the bathroom and quickly styles his hair. By the time he come back out, Harry has changed as well. Draco lifts an eyebrow at him and Harry shrugs.

"Figured this was better," he says. Draco has to agree. Harry is wearing a forest green teeshirt that matches his eyes and jeans that fit Harry so well that they look to have been tailored.

"Not bad," Draco says, flushing as he realizes how shamelessly his eyes have been raking Harry's frame.

"Not too shabby yourself. You ready?" Harry holds out a hand and Draco takes it, nodding.

A moment later, they appear in a darkened alleyway. They must be near wherever they're going because Draco can hear the dull thump of the bass through the wall next to them. Harry, still holding Draco's hand, drags him down the alley until they emerge on a larger street. Sure enough, the door to the club is a short distance from the alley. Draco makes to go stand in line, but Harry shakes his head and pulls him towards the front of the queue.

"Alright Mike," Harry says, hailing the doorman.

"Harry!" the tall muscular man cries. "Long time no see. Where've you been?"

"Busy with work," Harry says. "Can we go in?"

"'Course." Mike claps Harry on the back and ushers them through the door, much to the chagrin of the people in the front of the line, a couple of whom stare daggers at Draco as he walks past. But then they are inside and the music washes over Draco and he forgets about them.

"What do you want to drink?" Harry leans in and yells in his ear.

"Whisky and coke," Draco yells back. Harry nods and pulls Draco through the crowd towards the bar. Draco hadn't realized Harry was still holding his hand, but follows, still clutching it, so as not to lose the brunet in the press of people.

Harry orders from a bartender who also seems to know him on sight and Draco starts to wonder how often Harry has been here. Harry hands him his drink and Draco takes it appreciatively. He takes a large gulp and watches as Harry's eyes sweep the dance floor. Draco takes another sip and then makes his way out into the crowd, holding his glass above his head so as not to have it jostled. He doesn't look to see if Harry is following him. He just wants to dance.

He finds a patch of unoccupied floor and stops there. He takes a moment to find the beat and then starts to move in time with it. He closes his eyes and tries to shut out his emotions, but thoughts of Harry still swirl through his mind. He tips back more of his drink as he moves his hips to the music, concentrating on that, as opposed to his thoughts.

It is almost working when he feels a hand on his waist and a person dancing up behind him. His eyes snap open, but he does not turn around, preferring to pretend the mystery dancer is anyone but Potter. Instead he concentrates on the feel of the body behind him as he dances closer, pressing himself against the other man. Hands slip closer around his waist and Draco reaches up behind himself with one hand, intending to cup Potter's cheek with his hand.

Only, it's not Potter. Unless Potter has grown a beard in the last ten minutes. Surprised, he turns quickly and comes face to face with a stranger. His eyes go wide and he looks around desperately for Harry.

He spots him still at the bar, lounging against it, his elbows propped on top of the bar surface. He is looking straight at Draco, and Draco is sure he has been watching him dance with this man. He feels his face burn, although he hasn't actually done anything wrong. He and Potter are not dating. Not actually. But somehow dancing with this stranger feels like a betrayal of Harry.

"Help," he mouths as the stranger begins to grind rather forcibly against Draco's crotch. He tries to pull gently away, but the man has a firm grasp on Draco's hips and doesn't let go. Instead, the man leans into Draco's neck, his beard hair tickling the sensitive skin there. In this brief moment of distraction, Draco has lost sight of Harry. He has disappeared from the bar, but to where, Draco doesn't know.

Draco cringes slightly as the strange man starts seemingly to kiss his neck. It's very wet and whiskery and Draco doesn't like the feeling at all. He pushes harder at the man's chest, but the man is too wrapped up in what he's doing to notice Draco's protestations. Draco is about to pull his wand out and jinx the man when Harry appears behind him.

Harry taps on the man's shoulder and the whiskery kisses stop. The man turns around, keeping one arm wrapped around Draco's waist.

"Whaddya want?" he asks.

"You're dancing with my boyfriend," Harry yells over the music. His eyes are angry. Draco steps sideways and pulls himself out of the man's grasp. He crosses the space over to Harry and takes his hand.

"Sorry mate," he says. "He was alone and dancing like he didn't want to be." When Harry continues to glare, the man shrugs and moves off through the dance floor.

"Thank you," Draco says.

"Don't mention it."

"I'm sorry. I thought it was you behind me."

"S'fine."

"Do you want to dance?" Harry gives a noncommittal shrug, which Draco takes as an invitation. He puts Harry's hand on his waist and brings his own hands up around Harry's shoulders. A smile slowly crosses Harry's face as Draco starts to move his hips, nudging them against Harry to get him moving too.

And again, Draco loses himself in the beat of the music. He closes his eyes and pretends Harry is someone else, someone who actually wants to date him, even though that imaginary person looks an awful lot like Harry. He awkwardly sips at his drink over Harry's shoulder and soon his glass is empty. He looks around for a place to put it and steers them, still dancing towards a small table, where he puts it down. Harry, seeing what he is doing, knocks back the rest of his drink too and then Draco steers them back out into the throng of people dancing.

Amidst the beat of the music comes a loud guitar riff. Draco recognizes the song instantly as Michael by Franz Ferdinand. Draco's dancing picks up as he pretends every 'Michael' is in fact Draco. He moves with wild abandon, bringing himself closer and closer to Harry as the music takes over his thoughts.

Draco, you're the boy with all the leather hips

Sticky hair, sticky hips, stubble on my stick lips

Draco, you're the only one I'd ever want.

Their hips are now moving together as Draco presses himself against Harry. He is sweating in the club's humid atmosphere, and when he brings his hands up and tangles them in Harry's hair he finds it damp with sweat as well. How his hands had made there way up to Harry's hair, he's not sure. But now their foreheads are pressed together and when Draco briefly opens his eyes, he sees that Harry's are closed as well. The guitar swells as Draco's heart does the same.

Draco shifts his head and now their noses are together. If he turns his head just so, their lips will ghost over each other. And they do. Draco is heady from their closeness. But neither of them make that last move to bring their lips together.

The song changes and Draco pulls his head back again. His heart is hammering in his chest and it is not helped by Harry opening his eyes and smirking at him.

"What?" he asks. Harry leans in close and speaks quietly into Draco's ear.

"I still owe you that favor."

"What? Now?" Harry shrugs. He removes his hands from Draco's waist and instead reaches up and takes one of the hands that Draco has draped around his neck.

"Why not?" And he leads him through the crowd again.

...

"Right so how does this work?" Draco asks once they're locked in a stall in the club's bathroom. Harry puts a finger up to his lips.

"Shh," he intones. Draco thinks this is unnecessary as the music is so loud he doubts anyone could hear them. Harry moves his hand swiftly southward and in a few seconds he has Draco's belt buckle undone.

"What?" Draco asks, feeling a bit stupid. But then Harry starts to unbutton his trousers and he shuts up. Harry makes quick work of his fly and soon his trousers are around his ankles, helped along by Harry's wand. ("Leather trousers, Draco? Really?") Though he knows he shouldn't, he finds this incredibly sexy and his dick begins to harden. And then Harry is on his knees and Circe the sight of the savior of the wizard of world on his knees in front of Draco is just too much. His erection tents his boxers, even though Harry has barely touched him, and he shivers in anticipation.

Harry looks up, grinning like a devil. Draco's erection bobs and his boxers shift around it. His face turns pink. He's not supposed to be this excited about the man he's decidedly not dating sucking his cock. But then, he is getting his cock sucked so really, shouldn't he be excited?

All rational thought is then eradicated from his mind as Harry pulls down his boxers with one hand and palms his now free erection the other. Draco puts his arms out and steadies himself on the sides of the stall. Harry stops looking up at him and instead concentrates on his dick.

For a long moment, Harry just holds it and looks at it. It is all Draco can do not to thrust into his hand. But he keeps his hips still and looks down at Harry.

"Well," he says, trying to sound imperious and probably failing as he is quite sure his voice is shaking. "Are you going to suck it or not?"

"Oh," Harry says, his breath ghosting over Draco's shaft, "I am." His eye flash upward again and Draco bites his lower lip in anticipation.

Harry starts slowly. At first he just flicks his tongue gently at the head and Draco is about to tell him he's a big fucking tease when he abruptly takes it into his mouth. And then Harry's tongue is swirling around him as he gradually takes him in and Draco suppresses a moan, painfully aware that they are in a public restroom and someone could walk in on them at any time. Honestly, that just makes it more exciting.

And fuck, if the sight of Harry's mouth wide around Draco's cock is not a pleasing sight, he's not sure what is. His hips buck before he can stop them.

Harry's head begins to bob as Draco watches and a wonderful feeling starts to build in Draco, growing with every movement of Harry's head.

Draco scrabbles one hand to the top of the stall, fearful that his knees might give out. A moment later he is glad he did as Harry reaches a hand between Draco's legs and begins fingering his hole.

"Holy shit, Potter," he breathes. Harry glances upward for a moment and Draco thinks he can see triumph in his eyes.

And then Harry's finger breaches him and he can't hold back anymore. Draco comes hard into Harry's mouth, gripping the top of the bathroom stall to stop himself from sliding to the floor. After one last shuddering, amazing jolt, he sags, supporting himself by just one arm. He looks down at Harry, who is wiping his mouth, looking pleased with himself. He wants to tell him to wipe that damn smirk of his face while he's at it, but he can't bring himself to be upset just now. He's too bonelessly happy.

He allows himself a few more moments of leaning against the side of the stall before he straightens up again. Harry is off his knees now, leaning casually in the corner. Draco quickly pulls up his boxers and trousers.

"That was pleasant," he says gruffly. Harry smirks at him again.

"I'll bet it was," he says. His eyes flick downward briefly as Draco begins to buckle his belt again. Draco flushes. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," Harry says more quietly. He takes a step towards Draco, which brings him very close in the small space. But then he seems to change his mind as he reaches first for Draco's hip before turning abruptly to the door and opening it. Draco takes a deep breath, smooths down his hair and then follows Harry out into the bathroom.

They spend the rest of the evening drinking and dancing and not kissing each other. They stumble home around two in the morning, too drunk to apparate and so forced to use Muggle transportation. Draco tries to insist they take a bus, but Harry hails a taxi before they even reach the nearest bus stop.

Draco almost falls asleep in the back of the cab, leaning on Harry's shoulder, but they reach the Leaky Cauldron before he fully drifts off. And instead they stumble into the pub, Harry supporting Draco who is still drowsing and insisting he can walk and sleep at the same time.

How Harry drags Draco up all the stairs to his bedroom, he is not sure, but he deposits the blond into his bed moments before he falls all the way asleep. He's still fully clothed, shoes and all, so Harry gently begins to undress him. He knows he won't be able to get him into pajamas, but he figures Draco will be more comfortable sleeping in just his teeshirt and boxers than in his leather trousers.

As he gently eases Draco's trousers down, he thinks back to doing this earlier in the evening. A smile creeps over his face as he remembers the way that Draco had gone weak in the knees as he had come.

"Holy shit, Potter," replays itself in Harry's mind and his grin turns into a smirk. He has Draco's trousers off now, so he gently puts Draco's now bare legs under the duvet and pulls the duvet up so that it's covering the blond completely. Then Harry turns and walks to the bathroom in order to get ready for bed.

As he brushes his teeth, their time in the bathroom stall continues to loop in Harry's mind until he's aroused to the point where he needs to take care of it. He spits out his toothpaste and rinses out his mouth, then reaches down and undoes his trousers.

He looks at himself in the mirror over the sink. His face is flushed and his hair is as messy as it has ever been. He remembers Draco tangling his hands into his hair while they were dancing, and he fumbles his trousers down quickly, taking his boxers with them. He pretends Draco is pressed up against him on the dance floor again, their foreheads pressed together, sweat mingling. He grasps himself and begins to move his hand quickly up and down. Images of Draco flash through his mind's eye as he brings himself closer to climax. It doesn't take long. One more thought of 'Holy shit, Potter,' and he comes. His knees buckle slightly and he leans against the sink as he sends spunk onto the mirror. The cold porcelain is jarring on his bare skin and he rights himself quickly. He quickly cleans up after himself, pulls on his pajamas and collapses into bed.

He closes his eyes, but sleep will not come. His mind is full of the man asleep beside him. He'd seen the flash of pain in Draco's eyes when he thought Harry would rather be on a date with someone else and all Harry wants to do is soothe that pain away. He had tried all night to make him feel better, not least of all with their activities in the bathroom stall, but he still isn't sure if he has done enough.

He wonders if they will ever reach a point where neither of them can deny their feelings anymore, for Harry is now quite sure that Draco feels the same way that he does.

But, then, he thinks, they can't be together. They quite definitely can't. Maybe if Draco were no longer his asset... But how would that happen? Short of Draco becoming a full Unspeakable, Harry can't see any way that their relationship would ever be approved.

Not that the Ministry had "approved" of his and Oliver's relationship. They hadn't known about it. And they never would.

For a moment, Harry expects to feel the almost paralyzing stab of longing in his gut when he thinks about Oliver, but it doesn't come. It aches, that's for sure, but the pain is starting to dull now. Just like all the times before. Because if there is one thing that Harry knows, it's that time heals.

But time won't heal what he feels for Draco. Because the more time he spends with Draco, the stronger his feelings for the blond become. It's the same as it was in school, only the polar opposite. While at Hogwarts, the more time he spent with Draco, the more he despised him. Now, the more time he spends with him, the more he likes him. And he can't not spend time with him - he has to protect Draco. And so, the more and more he falls into like (or is it more?) with his prior rival.

He turns on his side, trying to get comfortable, and on an impulse snakes out an arm and drapes it over Draco's torso. Draco doesn't wake, but Harry revels in the closeness nonetheless.

Finally, after what seems like hours of thinking, but is really only fifteen minutes, he falls asleep, still with his arm wrapped around Draco.