Thanks to those reading and reviewing!
Narcissa Louise Snape- I hope I've thoroughly converted you! Welcome to the dark side.
Harry hated to admit it, but he woke up feeling refreshed and ready for the day, probably for the first time since the attack on Lucius and Draco. He also woke to the smell of eggs and rashers. And if he wasn't mistaken, beans on toast. Tentatively raising his head, he saw Draco sitting at the desk with what appeared to be a Muggle newspaper in front of him.
Harry yawned widely.
"You're finally awake," Draco said, turning.
Siting up, Harry asked, "Where did you get all this food?"
"Ooh, something called room service. I picked up that phone thing and the woman told me she would send whatever I wanted."
Harry shook his head and laughed. "How did you know to do that?"
"I can read, Potter. There are directions on that card on the desk."
"Oh." Harry had no idea Draco could be so self-sufficient in the Muggle world when he needed to be. It was good to know.
Draco stood, taking his cup of tea with him. "Sit. I've already eaten. You can have this as well." He tossed Harry the newspaper.
"Are you still having trouble reading?"
"No. I just don't understand what the bloody hell those articles are talking about. Stocks, odd sport and people I've never heard of."
Harry tucked into his meal, momentarily forgetting about the night before, despite the dried patch of spunk inside his pants. The fried eggs were precisely the right consistency–just done whites with slightly runny yolks. Harry rans his fork through the egg and scooped up some beans with it. He noticed Draco had gotten him coffee rather than tea. Any other morning, Harry needed some sort of caffeine kick to get him moving. But last night, he slept like a baby.
He blushed at the reason he slept so well.
Pouring a bit of milk into his coffee, Harry tried to distract himself with his food. He pulled the newspaper closer to read up on happenings in the Muggle world. He understood more about Muggles than Draco, but there wasn't much he wanted to read about. Instead, his mind wandered.
The feel of Draco's hand on his cock. The look of lust in his eyes. And yet, Harry was puzzled by Draco actions–or rather, inactions, afterward.
"What's the plan for today then?" Draco asked, bringing Harry out of his daydreaming.
"Huh? Oh, I suppose I ought to look at the dates Ron gave me and see if I can remember where I was or what I was doing at the time. I should also go to the front desk and extend our stay another night or two."
"Good idea." Draco paused. "Do you think it was a mistake for me not to go and check on Mother in person?"
"It's not too late," Harry said. "But, really, you can trust Ron. If he said he'll keep an eye on her, he will."
"Why should he? He's got no loyalty to me."
"He's an Auror. And he's the best person I know, next to Hermione," Harry defended.
Draco shook his head. "I didn't mean to besmirch Weasley's honor. I trust him to do his job. I only question his offer to go above and beyond. Especially for a Death Eater and his mother."
"I thought we'd already established that you're no longer a Death Eater. Besides, Ron's offer may seem above and beyond, but he would do it for any important witness."
Harry knew Ron to be thorough in his Auror duties. However, he suspected Draco was right. Ron was doing Harry the favor, not Draco. Keeping Harry's witness happy could only help his case.
When he was finished his breakfast, Harry took out the parchment Ron gave him listing the dates and places of all the Death Eater murders. Only a few dates stood out for Harry. He had fairly reliable alibis for two. Ron was his alibi for another date, so Harry put a question mark next to it. While he perused the list and made notes, Draco alternated hovering over his shoulder and pacing the room.
"Would you like to look at this as well?" Harry finally asked. He looked around but there was only one chair.
"It would be helpful if I need to establish my own whereabouts for those dates."
"Um." The only place they could sit together was on the bed. "Over there, I guess."
Draco sat down on the bed and crossed his legs, while Harry brought the parchment, the pad of hotel paper and a Muggle pen over.
They sat with knees just barely touching, hunched over the parchment. Once in a while their arms would brush against one another, sending a small shiver down Harry's spine. At one point, Draco pointed at a date, saying he recalled accompanying his mother to Madame Malkin's. Harry made a move to write it down, and their hands touched. He took note of how Draco didn't pull away.
They disagreed on which day of the week some of the dates occurred, but had difficulty settling their disputes. Draco couldn't recalling specific things he had done on any of the dates. And Harry noticed that more than once, Draco rubbed his forehead between his eyes.
"Why don't you take a break?" suggested Harry. "I need to go down to the lobby to pay for the room. I can ask for a calendar while I'm there."
"All right."
"How about I pick up some butties while I'm out?"
"Um . . . do you think we could . . ." Draco pointed to the menu on the desk.
Harry chuckled. "You want room service again?"
"It is convenient."
"I'll be back a bit later," Harry said. He stuck a keycard in his pocket, leaving Draco to nap alone.
Down at the front desk, Harry once again used magic to his advantage in order to conserve funds. After paying for a fine supper out, room service, regular meals and Draco's new clothing, the pair was running out of money. He booked the room for three more nights, allowing them to stay until Saturday morning for an embarrassingly low price.
"I hate to ask for something more," Harry said, "but do you know where I can find a calendar?"
"Do you need one for this month?"
"The past three months, actually."
"Oh, I can print that for you. It would be quite plain, but it'll do the job."
"Thank you very much." Harry smiled. "I'm just going to pop into the gift shop for a moment. I'll be right back."
While the desk receptionist with the purple hair printed out Harry's calendar pages, he walked into the gift shop to look around. Draco had wanted a chocolate pudding the other night, but ordered lemon pie for Harry. Harry thought he'd return the favor and get something sweet for Draco. He quickly chose a Peppermint Cream bar, a Curly Wurly, which were Harry's favorite when he was younger, and a Flake bar. Next he snatched two cans of Vimto. He wondered if Draco had ever had any of those Muggle snacks.
He paid for his few items, then went back to the front desk. The young woman with the purple hair smiled as she handed him three printed out sheets.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Harry rubbed his bottom lip with his finger. "Is there a pub nearby?"
"None that are open at this hour." She giggled.
"Oh, no, I mean for later. We may want to go out for a bit."
"You and your young man?"
"My what? Oh, no. He's not my . . . anything."
She snickered. "Oh. All right."
Harry blushed. "I just want to relax later is all."
She nodded and grinned. "Well, there are a number of places nearby. But there's a lovely bar adjacent to the restaurant here."
"Thanks," Harry mumbled and left the hotel to take a walk.
So, even though Draco had flirted with the woman with purple hair, she thought he was Harry's boyfriend. Or perhaps she thought it was one-sided, on Harry's part. Either way, Harry wasn't very good at hiding his feelings. He just needed to sort out what those feelings were.
He began to walk down Euston, vaguely taking in his surroundings. Not the best way for an Auror who was the prime suspect in a murder investigation to behave. But Harry had confidence in his Glamour-creating skills. No one knew who he really was.
Taking a turn down another road, going away from King's Cross, Harry eventually came upon a park. It seemed the perfect spot to sit and contemplate his situation. How did it get so fucked up, so quickly?
Ron would talk to Shacklebolt. Harry would come up with alibis for enough of the murders to put plenty of doubt in the minds of anyone who thought he might be guilty. They would eventually catch the real killer. Harry wasn't truly concerned with any of that.
But what was he going to do about Draco? From the moment Harry became responsible for the man, he couldn't help himself. He tried to convince himself that he was simply lonely for company, and Draco had grown into a handsome young man. But Harry knew it was more than that. It was more than the sight of Draco in his pants. It was more than not having a lover in the past six months.
Several people walked past Harry sitting on the park bench. Most paid him no mind. A young family walked by with a little girl not more than two toddling along. Her head was at the same height as Harry's as he sat hunched and leaning forward on the bench. She grinned at him, tight curls bouncing with every uncertain step. Harry smiled back, literally feeling all the muscles in his face relax out of the tense he frown he had been wearing. He hadn't even realized he'd been scowling so hard.
It felt as though he were trying to keep his emotions in check by clenching them in, and not acknowledging them.
He sat back, forcing himself to loosen up. And he allowed himself to recall his few meetings with Draco before all this business with the Death Eater murders.
Harry sat at one of the cafes, under a bright blue umbrella enjoying a bowl of hearty soup. The weather had turned recently. Winter was on its way. But it was sunny outside, and Diagon Alley was alive with witches and wizards taking advantage of a crisp, beautiful day.
Spooning the last of his soup into his mouth, Harry had an odd feeling of being watched. That in itself wasn't so unusual. People still came up to him to shake his hand or thank him. However, when he glanced around, he saw Draco Malfoy sitting across the Alley, his eyes fixed on Harry.
Malfoy was thin and pale, yet his expression appeared determined. He got up from his spot and walked to Harry. Fearing nothing from the man, Harry stayed.
He cleared his throat. "Potter."
"Malfoy." Harry said back, wondering what the former Slytherin wanted.
"Do you mind if I sit? There's something I'd like to say."
Harry merely nodded. Now that Malfoy was closer, Harry could see dark circles under the delicate skin around Malfoy's eyes. He looked worn down. It seemed to take forever for Malfoy to start talking.
"I want to thank you for your testimony."
"I-I only did what–
"I know. You simply told the truth, and not out of the kindness of your heart. I know you were compelled to testify." Malfoy paused. "But, at a time when many were lying or embellishing the facts to save themselves, you told the truth."
"Well, of course I did," Harry said. "You don't have to thank me for that."
"All right. Then how about thanking you for saving my life? And Gregory's. I don't believe I ever did that."
Harry blinked. Regardless of how he felt personally about Malfoy and Goyle, it hadn't been their fault Crabbe started the Fiendfyre that nearly killed them all.
Harry opened his mouth to again tell Malfoy he didn't require his thanks. But perhaps Malfoy needed to say it anyway.
"You're welcome," Harry said, seeming to surprise Malfoy a bit. He had to stop himself from saying that it wasn't anything someone else wouldn't have done. Harry knew how Ron felt about going back into the Fiendfyre for the pair.
There was a new expression on Malfoy's face at that point. It was almost hopeful.
"And perhaps I can ask one more thing of you." Malfoy bit his lip, staring down at his fidgeting fingers.
Scratching his head, Harry asked, "What is it?"
Malfoy took a deep breath and looked directly into Harry's eyes. "Forgiveness."
For a moment, Harry thought the man might cry. His eyes glistened, though no tears fell. Harry could see that Malfoy was genuinely remorseful.
"I understand, if not," Malfoy continued. "I realized long ago I was on the wrong side. But only recently did I come to admit, to myself mainly, that I could have made a difference if I had been brave. Like Professor Snape. And my mother. I could have passed along information I knew. I could have . . . maybe run away. I'm not saying I could have defeated the dark Lord, by any means. But I could have helped you. Instead, I made your life even more difficult."
"But you did help me," Harry said. "When you refused to identify me at the Manor."
Malfoy scoffed. "They all knew it was you. Who else would Granger and Weasley be traveling with?"
"It bought us time. And it was probably the best you could do at the time."
Malfoy shook his head. "Making excuses for me is not what I want from you. I want to take responsibility for what I did and didn't do. I'm admitting I was wrong. I want . . . to move forward."
Harry could think of a dozen things to say to Malfoy about why it wasn't all his fault–he was a child during most of the Second War, his parents had forced him to participate, Voldemort was the scariest motherfucker who ever lived–but that wasn't what Malfoy wanted or needed to hear.
"I forgive you," Harry said, thinking he sounded like a pompous arse.
Malfoy gasped softly. "Thank you. Now, I only have to ask forgiveness from the rest of the Wizarding world. Somehow, I doubt they'll all allow me to sit down for a heart-felt chat." He stood and bowed slightly, then turned away.
"Oi, Malfoy," Harry called. "That works both ways. I did an awful lot of shite to you as well."
Malfoy laughed, without turning to face Harry. "I forgave you long ago, Potter," he called and kept walking.
Harry sat a few minutes, watching Malfoy's back disappear into the crowd. He admired the way Malfoy humbled himself, which must have been a monumental thing for him to do. And if Harry was being honest, it felt good to hear thanks, and to offer Draco some of the peace he was seeking. Closure was a good thing for both of them.
Harry realized that was the day he began to think of his former rival as Draco, rather than Malfoy. So, when Harry attended the Ministry press conference during which Draco officially rejected the Death Eater and Pureblood ideals, he knew it wasn't just for show. Some of the others that day had similar words to say, but they may not have felt the weight of them as Draco did.
Harry had heard that some of his friends had comparable conversations with Draco over the six months or so between Harry's conversation and the press conference. Judging by Draco's thinner and paler appearance, many of those talks did not go as well. But Shacklebolt declared all of the former Death Eaters who humbled themselves that day no longer threats to Wizarding society, and free citizens with all the rights and privileges that go along with it.
Before leaving the Wizengamot chambers, Harry and Draco made eye contact. It was the only time even a small smile graced Draco's face. And it had gratified Harry to think he may have had a hand in putting it there.
Sitting on the park bench, Harry came to realize that perhaps his soft spot for Draco started as a pinprick to his heart back then. Being thrown together with him the last several days had busted it wide open.
Unfortunately, knowing when and how his feelings for Draco started didn't help him figure out what to do about them.
Harry sighed and got off the bench. He needed to get back to the hotel and finish working on his alibis. And he'd promised Draco room service for lunch.
hdhdhd
Draco was awake when Harry walked in. The telly was on and Draco was leaning forward, apparently captivated by what he saw.
"What are you watching?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," Draco said. "It's like a Wizarding photograph, yet . . . it's also like a drawing."
"A cartoon?" Harry asked. "Oh, not exactly. I've never seen this program before."
He sat down on the end of the bed next to Draco as they watched the bizarre photo-like drawings move jerkily across the screen.
After a minute or two, Harry said, "We should finish establishing our alibis. I got the girl at the front desk to print out July, August and September calendars for me."
Draco sighed. "Oh, all right. But I was probably home doing nothing memorable during most of the murders. My parents are my only witnesses."
"And me."
"Well, you are honest and trustworthy." Draco snickered.
"Hey that reminds me, why did you choose me to bring your father in? You could have chosen an Auror with much more experience." Harry asked the question even though Kingsley had already told him what Draco said. He wanted to hear it from the man himself.
"I didn't. I just asked for someone fair and impartial."
Harry frowned. Either Shacklebolt was mistaken or Draco didn't want Harry to know he'd chosen him. He picked up the room service menu.
"It's getting late for lunch. We should order something. Or we can wait and eat at the cafe with Ron and Hermione."
"Whatever you'd like."
Harry wasn't so certain he liked this accommodating version of Draco. He felt like he would have to comprise on something Draco wanted down the road.
"Why don't we order a penne dish to split since it's already nearly two. That'll tide us over until we meet Ron."
Draco shrugged. "I . . . what is penne again?"
"Noodles."
"Oh, right. That's fine."
Draco had been adjusting so well to Muggle life recently that Harry almost forgot that he grew up strictly wizard and wasn't exposed to the same sorts of experiences Harry was. He picked up the phone and dialed the required number for room service.
"Yes, hello, I'm in room four twenty-six. Can we get an order of penne vodka, a house salad and two bottles of water? And, um, two forks please? Yeah. Thank you."
Harry blushed, even though Draco hadn't seemed to be paying any attention. Though the pasta was a different type, sharing a plate with Draco reminded him of an old animated film in which two dogs ate a romantic spaghetti dinner together. He doubted he and Draco would end up on either end of a small piece of penne.
In fact, they were all business as they ate and finished writing their respective whereabouts down to give to Ron.
"I'm out of money," Draco announced. "Do you have any left?"
"Uh, let me see." Harry opened his wallet and counted bills. "Not much. Looks like twenty-three pounds and some coins."
Draco dipped into his pocket and pulled out his mother's diamond earrings. "We'll need to go back to that pawn shop."
"Draco, no. I'll ask Ron for a loan."
"No. I'll not have Weasley pay for my meal yet again, and ask for a loan on top of it."
"But you'll never get their worth at a pawn shop."
"Whatever the man offers will be worth my dignity. And perhaps a few more nights in the hotel . . . for safety, of course."
"Of course," Harry said. But he noticed a light blush around Draco's ears. "We have plenty of time to get to the pawn shop, then apparate to the cafe."
They Scourgified and slightly altered the color of some of their clothing to give the appearance of a broader wardrobe. Not that anyone was likely to notice.
There was a spring in Harry's step as the pair walked to the pawn shop. Draco's suggestion of staying at the hotel even longer may have been meant completely innocently. The blush said otherwise, though. Since Harry had been able to admit his feelings to himself, he found that he was actually enjoying the uncertainty of their newly forged bromance. Each of them acted coy at times, and brazen at others. The flirtatious nature of their banter and seemingly unintentional physical contact left him wanting more.
Then again, part of him wondered if it was all in his own head. Perhaps Draco was merely trying to survive an intolerable situation as best he could, and Harry was reading more into it than was there.
Either way, he didn't want it to end.
At the pawn shop, a different man from Wendell appraised Narcissa's jewels. He spent a great deal of time looking at every angle of the diamonds through his loupe.
"Where did you say these came from?"
"They belong to my mother," Draco answered. "She rarely wears them anymore. How much are they worth?"
The man looked Draco up and down. "And your mother doesn't mind if you sell them?"
"She has others," Draco answered nonchalantly. "She prefers emeralds and sapphires."
"Right," the man scoffed. He pushed the earrings back toward Draco. "I don't buy hot jewels."
Draco's brow furrowed. He touched the earrings. "What are you talking about? They feel no warmer than the table."
Letting out a laugh, the man asked Harry, "Your friend here stupid or what?"
"Stupid?" Draco snorted. "I'll have you know–
"No," Harry interrupted. "He simply can't believe you would accuse him of being a thief."
"A thief?"
Harry leaned toward Draco. "If something is referred to as hot, it means it was nicked."
Draco stood, fuming. "I am a Malfoy. My family can buy you and everyone in this room ten times over. How dare you accuse me of being a thief?"
He patted his pocket and Harry knew he was going for his wand. Harry put a hand out to stop him, then scooped up the earrings.
"If you don't want to do business with us, we'll take it elsewhere. Somewhere they won't question our integrity." Harry said it loud enough so the other patrons would hear. Several had already begun to pay attention when Draco first stood.
Suddenly, Wendell appeared. "Gentlemen, is there a problem?"
"No, not at all," Harry said. "We were about to be on our way. Your man wasn't interested in our merchandise."
"Really? Why not?" Wendell turned to the other appraiser. "The gold jewelry I purchased from these men a few days was very high quality."
"Oh, I didn't realize they were current customers."
"We aren't. Unless you apologize," Harry said to the other man. "And we do business with Wendell."
"Of course," Wendell said.
The other man mumbled an insincere apology, bowed slightly, and walked away.
"Henry hasn't been with us very long. He's still working on his customer service."
"Indeed," Draco scoffed.
Wendell gestured for them to sit. "Now then, shall we take a look at what you've brought us this time?"
Harry placed the earrings on the velvet pad on the table. He waited with Draco while Wendell examined them thoroughly. He took notes on a small pad of paper, and measured the diamonds with a curious looking instrument. After very meticulously inspecting the earrings, Wendell finally put everything down and smiled.
"Well, these are very lovely. Excellent quality. Would you happen to have an EGL or IGI certificate for the diamonds?"
"Uh, no," Draco frowned. "Is that necessary? These earrings have been passed down to my mother."
"No, not necessary. My skills in assessing jewelry are up to snuff."
"And?" Harry prompted.
"Half carat each, few minor flaws, excellent cut. I'd rate the color an F."
"As in failing?"
Wendell laughed. "No. Color of a diamond is rated basically on an alphabetically scale, beginning with D. So, F is very close to the best. Plus, these are set in platinum."
Draco tapped his fingers on the table. "How much?"
"Well, if you're certain you want to part with these . . . I can offer you . . . a grand."
Draco paused just long enough to have done the maths. "That's rather low."
Harry agreed. "Can't you go any higher?"
"Without a certificate, a customer buying these from us will have to rely on their own knowledge or have them appraised elsewhere. Plus, we have to make a profit and cover our overhead costs."
"Of course," Draco said. "But Mother has paid considerably more for comparable jewelry."
"Retail is an entirely different matter," Wendell told him. "Twelve hundred is the highest I can go."
"Fine," Draco said. He turned to Harry. "That should buy us quite a bit of . . ."
"Of what?"
"Food. Or whatever."
Harry suspected Draco wasn't really thinking of food. He was most curious what was on Draco's mind.
After trading the earrings for cash, Harry reminded Draco that they needed to get to Sal's Cafe shortly. As the pair walked to their familiar apparating spot near King's Cross, Harry couldn't stand the elephant in the room any longer.
"Draco, why did you . . . I mean, last night. You . . ." Harry blushed furiously.
"The hand job?"
Harry nearly choked. "Sh, don't say it so loudly." He paused. "But, yes. Why?"
Without looking at him, and not missing a beat, Draco answered, "You were wound up tighter than an elastic band. And you haven't been sleeping well. I thought you could use a bit of a release. No pun intended."
"I am not–" Harry frowned. "Oh. Is that all?"
"That's all."
"Right."
The rest of the way was silent. Harry didn't know what Draco was thinking about. But all he could think about was the look in Draco's eyes while he was giving Harry his release. It certainly didn't seem like that was all. He wanted to press the issue but by the time they reached the cafe, Ron was already there sitting in a booth near the back.
Sitting down, Draco immediately said, "I'm paying. Order anything you'd like."
"Draco." Harry rolled his eyes.
"What? I'm trying to be nice."
Ron scoffed.
"Something wrong with that, Weasley?"
"You don't have to throw your money around. I can afford to eat out."
"I wasn't implying you couldn't. But last time, Potter and I allowed you to pick up the bill. It's common courtesy for us to pick it up this time 'round." Draco crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "I wish everyone would stop making assumptions about my motives," he grumbled.
Harry knew that comment was directed at him as much as Ron. Perhaps even more. He cleared his throat.
"Well, then, thank you. It's very kind of you to offer."
Ron and Harry exchanged a glance.
"Fine. Thank you," mumbled Ron.
Harry wished his friends would be a bit more open-minded regarding Draco. He really had changed. The time Harry spent with him the past several days had been quite pleasant at times. Admittedly, Draco behaved differently when he was alone with Harry.
A server came by to take their order. Harry was pretty certain Ron simply ordered the most expensive meal on the menu. He chuckled to himself thinking it wouldn't bother Draco in the least. In fact, it probably pleased Draco that Ron was not ashamed to take advantage of his offer.
"Here." Harry handed Ron the list of his and Draco's whereabouts during as many of the dates as they could recall.
Glancing at it quickly, Ron said, "This should be enough to cast doubt on the accusations. Sit tight, Harry. Shacklebolt will sort this all out."
"I'd like to speed up the process," Draco said.
"How so?" asked Ron.
"I've been thinking that if the murderer is looking for a Death Eater to kill, why not make it easy for him?"
"I'm not following."
"I'll be your bait to lure him out."
"What? No," Harry said, a bit too loudly.
"Mate, keep it down." Ron looked around to see if anyone was paying them any mind.
"Sorry, but there's no way I'm letting you risk your life like that," Harry said to Draco. He turned to Ron. "Luring out the killer is brilliant, but it should be me."
Draco snorted. "Why you? You're not even a Death Eater."
"No, but I'm an Auror. More importantly, I'm an Auror who has seen the killer. Or, at least that's the rumor we can spread. Ron, if you leak that information and I let myself be seen around Diagon Alley and some other Wizarding places, the killer will find me. And I can catch him."
"Or be killed," Draco added.
"Better me than you."
"Hardly. You're the Chosen One. No one will miss me."
"It's my job. It's not your job. It's also my job to protect you. I'm not arguing about this."
Turning from Harry to address Ron, Draco said, "You can control the scene if you use me. Say, another remote area such as Ackerley. Just like my father, I can say I'm giving myself up. You can have Aurors you trust in hiding. And when he or she comes for me, you'll get them."
"And if it goes wrong?" Harry interrupted.
"I'll have to trust Weasley to do his job well. Isn't that what you advised me before?"
It annoyed Harry that Draco turned Harry's own words against him.
"There's no point arguing," Ron said. "Shacklebolt is the one who will decide what to do moving forward. We'll check out these alibis, and then I'll be in touch. You'll need to tell me the name of the hotel, though."
"Of course," Harry said.
"Have you checked in on my mother?" Draco asked.
Nodding, "She's doing well. I've charged Neville as her personal body guard."
"Neville? Longbottom?" Draco nearly choked on his food. "What is he going to do? Spout the names of herbs at someone trying to kill her?"
"Neville went through the same training as Harry and me," Ron defended. "You couldn't ask for someone more loyal or honest."
Harry put a hand on Draco's arm. "Neville will make certain nothing bad happens to her."
"I wish I had the confidence in people you have, Potter."
When they finished eating, Draco went up to the counter to pay their bill. Ron pulled Harry aside.
"What's going on?" He whispered.
"What do you mean?"
"I think you know exactly what I mean. The looks, the touches, the arguing over who is going to sacrifice himself for the other. It's not just me. Hermione noticed it as well yesterday."
Harry looked at Ron, trying his best to appear to be telling the truth.
"There's nothing going on. He's simply my witness. I'm only trying to keep him content."
Ron's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more.
"Ready?" Draco asked as he sidled up next to Harry.
"Yeah, all right."
"I'll be in touch," Ron said curtly.
Harry knew he had no right to be angry with Ron for suspecting there was something more to his relationship with Draco. After all, Ron was correct. But even the appearance of impropriety could hurt Harry's career.