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This chapter begins the morning after Harry's impromptu kiss.

Harry woke Tuesday morning after a fitful night's sleep. Glancing at the bedside clock, he saw that he had less than an hour until meeting with Ron and Hermione. He turned to wake Draco but the other side of the bed was empty.

He listened for sounds in the loo. Nothing.

"Damn. Where did he go?" Harry rubbed his head and yawned. "Fuck. He better not have left."

Harry jumped out of bed and dressed in the borrowed clothing from Draco. A swift Scourgify ensured he wouldn't offend anyone with body odor. Teeth were next. Then he would go out and look for Draco.

But he could be anywhere. Harry wished he had placed a trace on him. It wasn't customary once a wizard reached the age of seventeen, but the Ministry had been known to put a trace on suspects, and occasionally informants.

As Harry reached for the doorknob, Draco opened the door from the other side.

"Where have you been?" Harry demanded.

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Are you suddenly my mother?"

"What? No. I . . .I," Harry stuttered. "You're my witness. And you could be in danger. You can't go wandering alone."

"I'm wearing a hideous Glamour, remember? No one knows who I am."

"Still," grumbled Harry. "You could have left a note or something."

"Aw, did you miss me?" Draco smirked. Then his stomach rumbled. "I hope this cafe has a decent breakfast. I'm starved."

"Wait, you want to go with me?"

Harry had hoped to catch a bit of time alone with Ron. He'd crossed a line with his witness and he needed advice. Then again, he wasn't exactly looking forward to telling Ron that he was beginning to have feelings for Draco Malfoy of all people.

"I want to hear first-hand what happened to my mother." Draco interrupted Harry's thoughts.

"That's reasonable." Harry couldn't argue with that. "We should go then."

Harry grabbed his card key and led Draco down to the lobby and out the hotel. He walked them to a blind spot near the station from which they could apparate. After a short stroll, they reached the Muggle cafe ten minutes before nine.

Choosing a booth in the corner, Harry kept his eye on the front door, waiting for his friends to walk in. He could feel Draco's presence close to him. And he was certain the man was looking at him. Perhaps even staring.

Unable to ignore it, Harry turned to him. "Something on your mind?"

"Seriously?"

Harry wasn't going to get out of talking about the kiss. He sighed heavily.

"I . . . didn't behave very professionally last night. You're in my charge and I made a mistake. I apologize."

"A mistake."

"I took advantage of the circumstances." Harry could barely look him in the eye. He'd never conducted himself so poorly during his duties as an Auror.

Just as Draco drew breath to speak, Ron walked through the cafe door.

Cutting Draco off, Harry said, "They're here."

Draco snorted.

Harry waved and called his friends over.

Hesitantly, Ron walked toward them and whispered, "Harry?"

"Yes. Sit down. Hello Mione."

"Harry." She nodded. "And this is . . ."

"Draco wanted to hear about his mum first-hand."

"He could pass for my brother," Ron commented.

"Tell me about it," Draco mumbled.

Cutting to the chase, Ron leaned forward. "Harry, the longer you're on the run, the guiltier you look. Come in and we'll clear this up."

"I'm not on the run. I'm protecting my witness. I didn't kill those Death Eaters."

"I know that. But two more have been killed since Malfoy. And it appears you have had the opportunity."

"Two more? But Draco can vouch for my whereabouts for the past several days."

"I'm hardly a credible witness," Draco commented.

"Why not? Shacklebolt has exonerated you. Your testimony should be considered as reliable as anyone else's."

"He may be right, Harry," Ron said. "Some of the rumors going around are that you and Malfoy, er, Draco that is, are colluding to take down the Death Eaters."

"People think I had my own father murdered?"

Ron held up his hand. "I'm not saying I believe it. I'm not even saying that most people believe it. I'm only suggesting Harry find a way to prove his innocence without your involvement."

"The only way I can do that is to find the real murderer. Or murderers," Harry sighed.

A server came to take their breakfast orders. Though the others didn't hesitate, Draco frowned as he scrutinized the menu.

"Just order what you would normally want," Harry told him. "If you really don't like it, I'll pop to Diagon Alley to get you something else."

He noticed Hermione staring at him with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm wearing a Glamour," he whispered to her. "No one will recognize me."

"You think that's what I'm questioning?"

Draco finally decided on flapjacks and fruit, and tea of course. Once the server left, he began to ask the questions he came for.

"What about my mother? Has she been arrested?"

"No," Ron told him. "Actually, she's been in protective custody since Sunday evening."

"But my mother isn't a Death Eater. She never received the Mark."

Nodding, Ron replied, "But if there was a possibility that you had your father killed . . ."

Draco scoffed.

"If you'd like, I can bring you to the safe house to stay with your mum. It's guarded 'round the clock, so you'll both be safe," Ron offered. "No criminals are housed there. It's mostly witnesses and potential victims."

Pursing his lips, Draco appeared to consider it. "You're certain my mother is safe?"

Ron nodded.

"Then I'll stay."

Harry's head whipped toward Draco. He wanted to stay with Harry? Even after Harry's indiscretion? And his complaints about being in the Muggle world?

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "You can take Ron's word as true. You'll be safe there with your mum. Safer than with me, most likely."

"But you need help proving your innocence. Besides, with rumors going around about us being murderers, the real killer is likely to get cocky and perhaps make a mistake." Draco paused. "Unless you consider me a liability because of my injury."

"What injury?" Hermione asked.

"I'm fairly certain Draco got a minor concussion when the building facade exploded."

"You should have taken him to St. Mungo's," she said.

"See?" Draco smirked.

Ignoring Draco, Harry said to Hermione. "I've been having him follow protocols for concussion treatment. Lots of rest, not too much activity. He's been healing."

"If you'd like, I can take a look at him," she proposed.

"You could talk to me, Granger," Draco said. "He' doesn't speak for me."

Hermione bit her lip. "Didn't want to offend." But it seemed she was the one offended.

Harry glanced at Draco and nodded his head toward Hermione, encouraging him to talk to her.

"Granger, I um." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I never apologized to you after the war. I was probably most cruel towards you during our time at Hogwarts. Quite frankly, I was apprehensive about approaching you. My efforts to make amends haven't been met with much regard. I do hope you'll believe me when I say I regret many of my actions."

"Harry certainly seems to believe you," she said.

"I do," Harry interjected.

She looked to Ron, who shrugged.

"Apology accepted then."

Harry was quite relived. A truce between Hermione and Draco would smooth things out in the long run. He couldn't help thinking, especially if his relationship with Draco were to grow more intimate.

Breakfast was served, and again, Draco swallowed it and his pride enough to admit it was every bit as good as meals he'd eaten in his own home cooked with magic.

While they ate, Harry and Ron discussed goings on at the Ministry, as well as the case of the vigilante killer. Being a new Auror, Ron didn't have the same sort of access to the particulars of the case. He was able to give Harry the dates and times of all the murders, so he could begin to establish his own whereabouts. The Prophet may have declared he had no alibi. But the Prophet, as usual, made assumptions that weren't necessarily the truth.

"There's one more thing I haven't told you," Harry said when their breakfast meeting was winding down. "I caught a quick glimpse of the vigilante. Ron, he or she was wearing red Auror robes."

Hermione gasped.

"Mate, are you certain?"

"As certain as I can be, given the circumstances. You must be careful not to let that information out though."

"I have to tell Shacklebolt," Ron said.

Harry shook his head. "If he's involved in any way, you could be in danger."

"If he's involved in any way, the entire Ministry is in danger. It's a chance I'll have to take. Don't worry, I won't tell him where you are," Ron said. "Not that I have any idea where you're staying."

"And you won't. Even if they try veritaserum or Legilimency, you won't be able to tell anyone. I may change our Glamours just to be safe."

"Can you make me at least a little handsome this time around?" Draco asked.

"It isn't funny, Draco. Your life could be in serious jeopardy if the wrong Auror finds out where we are."

Draco looked down at his fidgeting fingers like a scolded child.

Reaching a hand across the table for Harry, Hermione smiled. "You know Kingsley. He would never be involved in rogue murders, even if the victims are Death Eaters who have committed murder themselves. He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He helped Sirius evade the Ministry because of the corruption."

Harry nodded. "You're right, of course."

"I'll only talk to Shacklebolt about you, and what you've told me," Ron assured him.

"And what about my mother?" Draco wanted to know. "If corrupt Aurors are guarding her . . ."

"I know those men personally," Ron said. "But I'll check in often to make sure everything is fine."

"Thank you."

"We should meet again in a couple of days," Harry suggested. "Perhaps Kingsley will have directives for me."

Draco gave him a pointed look.

"Um, better still, can you meet tomorrow?" Harry asked. "You can let us know how Mrs. Malfoy is doing."

"Fine. How about for supper? It'll give me time to talk to Shacklebolt and check in at the safe house."

Harry nodded. "Half-six?"

"And work on that alibi, mate."

"I will."

They parted ways without Harry getting a chance to talk to Ron about kissing Draco. Maybe that was actually for the best.

Though they took their time talking and eating, it was still only a little after ten when Harry and Draco left the cafe.

"Do you want to go back to the hotel and rest?" Harry asked Draco. If Draco was sleeping, he wouldn't be able to talk to Harry about that kiss.

"No. I feel all right." He paused. "I've noticed that our clothes, mine in particular, are different from the Muggles I've seen."

Harry watched a young man walk by wearing jeans with holes in them and spiked up hair. He and Draco appeared to be dressed in public school uniforms. Draco more so.

"Yeah, well, I thought you enjoyed dressing more formally."

"But don't we stand out? Should we purchase some Muggle clothing?"

Raising an eyebrow, Harry questioned, "You want to buy Muggle clothing? Why not simply transfigure what we're already wearing?"

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on one hip. "Do you know the difference between designer clothing and transfigured clothing?"

"No."

"I'll bet Muggles do. Do you think I would be caught dead in knock-offs?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I should think you wouldn't want to be caught dead at all."

"Take me a Muggle fashion house."

"How should I know where to go?"

"Clearly you're not up on the latest trends, but surely you've at least heard of popular clothing shops."

Slightly insulted, yet knowing it was true, Harry sighed. "Let's ask somebody." He grabbed Draco's elbow and led him back into the cafe. Their server stopped, appearing surprised.

"You're back."

"Yes. I'm hoping you can help me with something." Harry smiled. "My friend here is looking to buy some new clothes, but we're not really familiar with shopping in London. Do you think you point us in the right direction?"

"Well, I like to go to Topshop. But that's only for women. You could try Primark." She gave Draco a look up and down. "Hm. Better yet, try Jermyn Street. Lots of shops to get a bespoke suit."

"Oh, he's looking for something a bit more casual. But, you know, still upscale."

She nodded as though she had Draco pegged from the start. "G-Star on Oxford Street has what you're looking for. A bit pricey if you ask me. But if you don't find anything there, there are loads of other shops."

"Thank you so much." Harry held his hand out to shake. She seemed puzzled but shook it. "And, how can we get there?"

"Oh, just take the Tube to Oxford Circus." She smiled brightly.

"You've been very helpful," Harry said.

As he nudged Draco toward the door, the man was gawking at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Draco shrugged. "You're very good with people. Interacting with them in a way that's . . . I don't know," he mumbled.

It was meant to be a compliment, Harry figured. But it was tinged with jealousy.

Harry may not have known fashion, but he could navigate the Tube. They were near Notting Hill Gate, which was just a short trip on the underground.

"Oh no." Draco stubbornly refused to go down the steps into the station.

"Why not? You said you wanted to do Muggle things. You liked the food."

"I never said I wanted to do Muggle things. I want to wear clothing that blends in. And the food was satisfactory, not spectacular."

They stood in a stalemate for a minute or two before Harry gave in.

"Fine. Let me look at the map so I can figure out where to apparate."

Smirking smugly, Draco waited for Harry to go down to look.

Harry complained to himself about Draco's willfulness. It had been many years since Harry had ridden the Tube and he was almost looking forward to it. If he thought about it, though, Draco had been fairly flexible through this whole ordeal. He tried Muggle food and was willing to wear Muggle clothes. During the meeting with Ron and Hermione, he was civil. He was more than civil. He'd apologized to Hermione–something Harry never thought he'd witness.

Most importantly, Draco hadn't brought up the kiss again. Harry decided he was happy to make accommodations for Draco if it allowed him to forget that he kissed him.

Except that Harry was the one reminding himself of that kiss. Brief as it was, he could still practically feel it on his lips.

hdhdhdhd

Leaving the shop wearing the expensive clothing he purchased, Draco looked every bit the part of trendy Muggle. The distressed jeans didn't hug Draco's hips and arse the way Harry would have preferred, but the man at the checkout seemed to appreciate them. A white polo with the collar popped and trainers completed the ensemble, along with Draco's original sport coat. To Harry, Draco even appeared to have the same bleach-blond look many men sported. Except Draco had no showing roots. And his hair didn't look like straw. Indeed, it looked as soft as a baby's arse.

"Stop it," Harry muttered.

"Pardon?"

"What? Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself." Harry blushed. "Well, we've spent so much time dressing you up, I'm hungry again. And I'd like to go back to the hotel."

He expected an argument, but Draco offered none. In fact, Draco seemed to have finally given in to his current situation and embraced Muggle ways. He even turned on the telly that night to watch more of the sport he found so fascinating. While he marveled at the strength of the men the evening before, he was in awe of the women's flexibility and grace.

When it came time for sleep, Harry anxiously waited for Draco to emerge from the loo. Harry had gone first to brush his teeth and splash water on his face. He stripped down to his loose-fitting boxer shorts and climbed under the top sheet. He was feeling a bit flushed at the prospect of getting into bed with Draco again.

Finally, Draco stepped out of the loo.

"What are those?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself.

"What?"

Draco tried to feign ignorance, but Harry caught him glancing down at the bright pink stretch trunks covering his loins.

Laughing, Draco said, "The shop assistant suggested them. I love the way they hug my arse. And my cock. Besides, it's nippy in here."

Harry blushed, turning away. "Suit yourself." He wondered if Draco was torturing him on purpose.

The former Slytherin was still giggling as he got in the other side of the bed. "Good night."

Draco pulled the covers up to his chin and closed his eyes. Harry, who didn't find the room quite as chilly left them neatly folded on his belly. He pointed his wand at the light.

"Nox."

Harry lay awake for hours, keenly aware of the man lying next to him. He found himself, once again, thankful for the larger bed. The morning's awkwardness, which was easily forgotten when there were other things to think about, became magnified in Harry's mind. Had Draco himself forgotten about Harry's indiscretion? Or was he going to bring it up again at some inopportune moment to torment Harry?

What in the bloody hell possessed Harry to kiss Draco?

Thinking about it wasn't helpful. Knowing the man was lying less than half a meter away wearing only a pair of stretch trunks wasn't helpful either. Harry could feel his cock stir and he wanted more than anything to go off to the loo to wank. That would be bad form, even if he could do it under a silencing charm.

Beside him, Draco stirred briefly and rolled from his back to his side–the side that was facing Harry.

Harry bit his lip. He could feel Draco's breath ever-so-lightly on his shoulder. Harry tried not to move as more blood rushed to his cock. It was intolerable. He thought about turning over himself, in an attempt to wake Draco enough so that he may move back over to his own side of the bed.

Instead, Draco sighed, moved a bit closer and draped his arm over Harry's belly.

Harry started to gasp but held his breath.

Fucking hell, Harry thought to himself. Sure, Draco had snuggled in his sleep before. But that was before Harry had kissed him. Before Harry had lost his self-control. Nevertheless, Harry was determined to behave in a more professional manner.

He turned his head. Draco's hair was tousled and his mouth hung open slightly. He looked so peaceful. Harry had begun to relax, just a bit. It was actually quite nice to feel a warm arm around him. It had been too long since he had kept a lover. Being an Auror in training kept him far too busy to pursue a relationship.

Harry sighed softly. His hard on had begun to wane. Perhaps the situation wasn't all bad.

And then Draco's hand moved. It didn't just move, it traveled down to Harry's reawakening cock.

Harry closed his eyes and bit his lip again, trying his best not to push his hips up into Draco's hand, which he desperately wanted to do. He wondered if Draco was having an erotic dream or if he was simply used to sleeping with a lover. He hadn't even remotely considered that Draco might have a boyfriend somewhere out there.

Slowly, Draco's hand slid down Harry's shaft, then back up. Even with the fabric of his shorts between them, the delicious friction made Harry impossibly hard. Draco's hand moved again, squeezing gently. Harry knew he should stop him or wake him. But it felt so good. His toes curled as Draco's hand stroked him toward orgasm.

Harry turned to look at Draco again. The man was staring at him. Harry let out a small moan when Draco's hand movement sped up and became more purposeful. He wanted to look away, but the lustful look in Draco's eyes pinned him in place. He started to pant. He was going to cum soon.

Harry closed his eyes, arching his back. Taking in a sharp breath, he came hard as Draco milked him dry. He let out a long sigh and looked again at Draco, but his eyes were closed again.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but he had no idea what to say. Should he thank Draco? Reciprocate? Ask him why on earth he did that?

Before he came up with the right words, Draco suddenly turned around and faced the other direction. Harry lay blinking, not certain at all of what happened. Well, he knew what happened. But he didn't know why. Or why Draco hadn't said a word or waited for Harry to make the next move.

While he contemplated this, Harry heard the familiar soft snores of his bed companion. He had no idea how Draco could have simply fallen asleep after wanking his former rival.

Feeling satiated and exhausted, Harry also soon fell asleep.