"With Ronald in St. Mungo's, and Sally-Anne on annual leave next week, you two should obviously be partnered on Monday." Robards looked over at Draco. "I trust the Healers patched you up all right?"

"Yes, sir. I've never been better."

Their boss massaged his temples. "I know you're not bosom buddies, but quite frankly you are professionals, and I expect you to behave as such."

Harry swallowed. "That won't be a problem, sir. We've been getting along better lately."

Draco folded his arms and said nothing. Harry's stomach lurched.

Be cool.

Robards stood up and clapped them on the back. "Good. I know I can count on you both. Don't let me down."

That Monday, Harry froze dead in his tracks at the coffee kiosk. The Daily Prophet headline leapt out at him:

'RUMOURS OF A GREENGRASS AND MALFOY ENGAGEMENT?'

He stopped to buy a cappuccino and the paper.

"Mornin', Harry," said the barista. He smiled wanly back, hating that everyone recognised him.

It must be a slow day for this to make front page news. The smuggling arrests they'd made on Friday had only made the second page. He dazedly put down a handful of Sickles and wandered off, head in the paper.

His gut clenched at the photo of a woman coming out of a restaurant, holding hands with Draco. She smiled towards the camera, brown hair waving in the breeze, ring sparkling on her finger. Pretty. Impeccably dressed. A perfect mate for a Pureblood. Malfoy stared grimly at something off-camera.

He walked to the lifts in shock.

"Harry!" He wheeled around, scowling. His expression cleared as he saw Mr. Weasley jogging up to him. "Morning, Mr. Weasley."

"Are you all right?" He looked at him concernedly.

Harry's ears were buzzing. They were somehow in the lift. "Yeah, just a bit tired," he said airily. The morning crowd squeezed them up against the grille. Harry leaned away from a man holding a squawking chicken with three heads.

The cool voice rang out—Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services—and he and Mr. Weasley walked towards their respective offices.

He opened the door to the Auror Office with trepidation. Of course, Malfoy was the only one there.

"Potter, there you are—"

"Just going to the gym," Harry declared, as he turned and fled.

Get a grip.

"Potter, you should sit at Sally-Anne's desk."

"No, you should sit at Ron's."

"When hell freezes over. It looks as though a Bombarda has hit it."

Harry couldn't argue with that, especially since their boss had just strolled into the room. He grumpily packed up his things, and stomped over to Draco's cubicle.

He was laying down his quill and pile of paperwork when Robards came over. "Urgent memo from the Minister. I need you in Dover, pronto. No time to brief you, the ferry could arrive any minute now—you know the drill. Be back in an hour if no joy. Bring your cloak," he nodded to Harry.

They both sprung to their feet, and took the Floo to Kingsley's office.

"Morning, men," Kingsley said, not looking up from his files. "Hope it goes well."

"Cheers," said Harry.

"Thank you, Minister," said Draco.

Harry flung the Invisibility Cloak over them both, and they took the Portkey from the shelf.

He felt the familiar jerk of a hook behind his navel. His feet lifted off the ground; Draco's shoulder banged into his; the coffee churned in his stomach; they both sped in a howl of wind and swirling colour, and then—

His feet slammed into the ground, and he staggered into Draco. They had appeared at the usual spot on Waterloo Crescent. Draco righted him by gripping his arm, and he cast the Muggle-Repelling Charm.

Harry tried to breathe normally at the shock of being so physically close to Draco. It helped that he could hear the sound of an ice cream van jingle and the shrieks of seagulls overhead. The breeze smelt of fish and chips, and the salt of the sea.

He squinted at the horizon. "Doesn't look like there's a ferry any time soon."

"I will be the judge of that. You are blind as a bat." Draco looked out, and he waited patiently for his assessment. "You may be correct."

The cloak was far too small for them both. Pressed up against each other, they shuffled over to sit down on a covered Victorian wrought iron bench. It was fairly quiet, as it was eight in the morning and the tourists hadn't yet come out in their droves.

This could be a long hour.

They resolutely ignored each other.

"Are you going to ignore me all day?" Draco asked, folding his arms.

"What would you like to talk about?"

"I don't know why you hate me so much. I've done nothing to deserve it," sniffed Draco.

He gripped the seat and furrowed his brow. "I…I don't hate you."

Far from it.

Draco snorted. "That's reassuring." He pulled his feet up onto the bench, and wrapped his arms around his legs. Twisting his head to face Harry, he closed his eyes.

The heat of his breath warmed Harry's cheek. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The Invisibility Cloak trapped them both.

It had been one year, and still Draco haunted his dreams.

He took a minute to greedily take in Draco's features. The way his knee squished his cheek. His blond eyelashes were long. There was a tiny mole to the left of his eyebrow.

He seemed defeated and small.

Determined to ignore him, Harry dragged his gaze away and dutifully looked out for the ferry.

A quarter of an hour later, the bench was digging into his back and Draco hadn't moved an inch. He stretched his neck and tried not to jostle the cloak too much. "…Malfoy?"

"Mm?"

"What's wrong?"

Draco slowly opened his eyes. "No prizes for a correct guess." At his baffled look, Draco continued. "You." He breathed in and out deeply, and stretched his back as he sat up. Draco ran his hands through his hair. "You're the perpetual thorn in my side." He gazed out to sea and his voice dropped to a whisper. "And you should stay away from me."

Harry hung his head and privately agreed as he remembered Astoria. He checked the swirling stars that encircled the golden face of his watch. Fifteen minutes left and still no sign of the ship.

Goosebumps erupted all over his body as Draco gripped his thigh. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Shh, keep your voice down. Would you prefer me to stop?" Draco's breath ghosted the shell of his ear.

He shook his head as he said, "yes." He clutched Draco's forearm as he recalled his scars. I must not tell lies. "No."

The inside of his leg burned as Draco's fingers quested up towards his crotch. He twisted round and spread his legs. "We shouldn't," he gasped.

This is a bad idea.

"Perhaps not," Draco agreed. "But I want to. And you want to."

Draco's lip looked sore where he had bitten it, and Harry leaned in to taste him.