Harry paced his bedroom feeling like an absolute coward. Ginny was downstairs, this he knew because he'd cast 'homenum revelio' before he'd come home and had apparated directly into his bedroom to avoid her. He sat on the edge of his bed and gazed at his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger with his thumb in the same way he'd done over the years when he felt stressed – so often in fact, the band was perfectly smooth. He'd never taken it off, even when he'd been unfaithful to his marriage, and the idea of doing so now felt like the ultimate betrayal.

He shook his head and took a deep breath. He could do this. He stood back up and walked over to the mirror, and he started to practice what he was about to do, pushing the trepidation he felt in his chest away. He knew what he needed to do, and he wanted to do it - he just didn't know how to do it!

How did a person end a relationship that had spanned an entire decade? How did they look their spouse in the eye and say 'Hey, I don't want to be around you anymore!'? And more importantly, how did one break a bat bogey hex because Ginny was unbelievably skilled at them, and though Harry was an experienced auror, she always managed to catch him off guard!

He was stalling. He knew he just needed to sit Ginny down and say it and get past this ridiculous hesitation he felt. It was just Ginny, after all, it was hardly comparable to facing Voldemort, which was how Harry realised he was acting.

He moved towards the door, bolstered by his own conviction, and knew now was the moment. He wanted Draco, had wanted him for so long it felt like a physical ache, and he knew that any type of potential relationship with the blonde was unfeasible whilst he was still attached to Ginny.

Wrenching the door open, Harry made his way down to the lower level of his house, knowing that Ginny would be working on play strategies for the Harpies, and he kept a constant stream of reassurance in his head that he was doing the right thing. Draco's face hovered in the forefront of his mind, spurring him on.

Stopping outside the kitchen door, Harry took a deep breath. Swallowing down the fear that his life as he knew it was about to end, he pushed the door open, his eyes landing on his wife.

Her head hung low over a play book, her long red hair forming a curtain, hiding her face, and Harry watched her for a moment. His mind flickered back to the Gryffindor common room, when he would watch Ginny study. He had spent many an evening watching the youngest Weasley, searching out reasons to love her, to find aspects of her physical appearance that he found sexually appealing. He had never found any, a revelation which had made him feel despicable, because Ginny was beautiful and feisty and passionate, even Harry could see that. He just couldn't see her that way.

Shaking his head, Harry brought himself back to the present, "Hi, Gin. Can we talk?" He asked, his voice a whisper, however, in the otherwise silent kitchen, it felt as though he had shouted it.

He leant against the door jamb, his hands deep in his pockets, hoping his body language was open; even if his heart was thudding against his chest as though she were the enemy, and he waited for her to agree before entering the room.

Ginny looked up from the table with surprise, her play books spread out around her and a quill in her hand. She had a small blot of ink against her lip which made him smile with affection for her. "Er…sure. Is something wrong? Is it mum…or dad?" She asked, rising slightly from her chair as she began to panic.

"No, no, everyone's fine!" Harry reassured with a soft expression. He couldn't help but feel saddened that Ginny assumed something was wrong because he was talking to her. It hurt how far they had drifted apart. They were practically strangers.

Harry pushed himself away from the door frame and fetched a bottle of water from the fridge, before settling at the table across from Ginny. She eyed him curiously, her gaze lingering on the water bottle in his hands.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, dropping her quill and sitting back in her chair, giving Harry her full attention.

Harry uncapped his bottle and took a swig of water, his hand trembling slightly as he did so. Ginny noticed, her eyes narrowing in response.

"I've been thinking about our situation," Harry began, his mouth dry, despite the water, and he watched Ginny's face for a reaction.

She shifted in her seat, leaning forward a little in anticipation, but remaining quiet. Harry decided to forge on before he lost his nerve, "I think it's time to go our separate ways." He added, his voice breaking at the end. He squeezed the bottle in his hands as he watched the red head before him.

"Really?!" Ginny's voice cried, the brightest smile bursting across her face. She gazed at Harry, wide-eyed and hopeful, and he felt surprise tug at his own expression.

"You're happy?" He asked, uncertainly.

Ginny's smile froze on her face and she appeared to attempt to rein herself in, "Aren't you?" She asked, her crystal gaze flickering over his face, as though she was trying to read his expression.

"Well, I wouldn't say happy, but it is what I want." He explained, stunned by her reaction. He'd been expecting tears or anger, not excitement, "You want it, too?"

Ginny nodded, "For a while, actually. I've been seeing someone, it's pretty serious, but he doesn't want to cause trouble, so…" She shrugged, a sad frown pulling at her expression. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms as though comforting herself.

Harry's eyes danced over her body language, and he felt an odd pull in his chest as she spoke of being with someone else. It felt a little like jealousy, but not the kind that made him want to fight for her; it was more the kind that made him realise he'd never wanted to fight for her, and that he could have gotten out of this situation a long time ago.

Harry smiled sadly, feeling guilt wash over him. It occurred to him that it wasn't just him that had been making sacrifices over the last decade, "Oh Gin, I'm so happy you've met someone."

Ginny smiled shyly, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink, "He's great, he's on the Irish quidditch team," she admitted, "We've been together just over a year…he's mentioned he'd quite like to have children…" she added, her eyes dropping to the table.

Harry swallowed down a bubble of guilt, remembering – as he had no doubt Ginny was, too – the arguments they'd had in the beginning of their marriage about having children. Ginny had been keen on the idea; however, Harry had no intention of bringing children into his chaotic world.

"That's amazing, Gin." He smiled, genuinely pleased that Ginny still had a chance at the life she'd always wanted, "I'm so glad you're happy."

Ginny gazed at Harry again, her eyes flickering down to the water bottle in his hand, to his perfectly pressed, t-shirt, and back to his smooth, cleanly shaven face, "He must be special," she murmured, knowingly.

Harry, reached up and scratched at the back of neck, guiltily, "Well, I just hope he treats you better than I did." He countered, remorsefully.

"No, I mean your guy." Ginny said clearly, a twinkle in her blue eyes. Harry spluttered, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He noted the curiosity and shrewdness of her tone, and he cursed her perceptiveness.

"What?" he breathed. His legs twitched under the table, and he crossed them tightly at the ankles to keep from fidgeting.

"Come on, Harry, I've known you were gay longer than you have!" Ginny exclaimed, smiling affectionately, "I never said anything because I figured you were just trying to work through it, but you've been different lately – you've stopped drinking for a start," she explained, looking pointedly at the water he held in his hands, "You're looking better, you've been smiling!"

Harry gazed at the books on top of the table, listening intently to his wife. It was beginning to dawn on him just how miserable and morose he'd been before Draco had come back into his life, and how the blonde had given him hope after so many years of being without it.

Harry leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands, and his mind's eye visualised Draco's face. A smile as big as Ginny's had been when speaking of her quidditch player spread across his face, and Draco smiled back, "He's amazing." He breathed, feeling like a giddy school-girl.

"Well…Who is he?" Ginny asked, curiosity rife in her tone. Harry's eyes darted to her face and he sat up straight again, his back rigid with stress. He hadn't planned for the conversation to take this route, and he felt his stomach drop as he imagined Ginny's reaction to finding out he had feelings for a former deatheater.

Ginny sensed Harry's reluctance and tilted her head, her gaze flitting over his face and reading the lines of stress. She cleared her throat before extending her hand across the table towards Harry.

Harry watched Ginny reach across to him and he tentatively reached back, placing his cold, shaking hand in her warm steady one. When she spoke, her voice was soft.

"Harry, I know our marriage has been a sham," she said sadly, squeezing his fingers comfortingly, "but we made a vow – your secrets are my secrets. That will never change." She implored, her words as serious as her tone.

Harry studied her facial expressions, his heart pounding in his chest. Ginny squeezed his hand again, ducking her head to catch Harry's eye, her own eyes soft.

"Harry, you can trust me." She promised.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and swallowed the fear that was creeping up his throat, opening his eyes, he hesitated before it tumbled out of his mouth in rush.

"It's Draco Malfoy."

Ginny's ginger eyebrows sprang up her forehead in surprise while the rest of her face remained impassive. Her hand continued to grip Harry's, although now it was more to ground her rather than to comfort him.

Harry waited for the explosion. His eyes focused on Ginny's face, searching for any sign of what was going on within. Fear dripped into his bloodstream, but it wasn't fear for him, it was for Draco.

"Say something, Gin." He begged. He took comfort in the fact she hadn't pulled away from him. To say he was surprised when she finally spoke would have been an understatement.

"Son of a bitch," she laughed, shaking her head, "I always knew there was something between the two of you, even if neither of you did." She added, rolling her eyes theatrically.

Harry stared at her, his mouth slightly agape with disbelief. The hand that held his gave another comforting squeeze, pulling him back from his astonishment.

"You're not…you're not mad?" he asked, blinking. Ginny smiled widely, rolling her eyes again.

"Harry we're not in Hogwarts anymore. Sure, he's not someone I'd choose to be around, but he made amends for what he did back then." She said, shrugging her shoulders, "Besides, I'm guessing you've spent enough time with him to know he's not all bad." She added with a sly smile, "Amazing, wasn't it?"

Harry felt a blush spread across his face and his mouth twisted with embarrassment, "We've spent a little time together, it's been a bit of a whirlwind to be honest. He's changed a lot!" he explained, his face brightening as he thought about the little moments they'd shared, "He makes me feel…"

"What?" Ginny asked when he didn't continue, and so wrapped up in thoughts of Draco, Harry didn't notice how her tone and expression had turned melancholic.

"More. He makes me feel like I'm more than just…The Boy who Lived." He shrugged, unable to put his feelings into words.

Ginny's eyes slid closed for a moment, and Harry realised he'd hurt her with his remark, however, before he could apologise, Ginny's eyes opened again. They shone as she gazed at him, and she swallowed with a little effort, "I'm sorry for everything, Harry." She whispered, guilt riddling her tone. He could see she was remembering all the times she'd exploited his prominence within the wizarding world and made his life harder than it needed to be, and how much she regretted the hurt she'd caused him.

"I'm not," Harry smiled, reaching his other hand across the table to enclose hers in both of his own. He winked at her, moving to kiss her knuckles, "All roads have led us here." He smiled, and Ginny retuned it, "I love you, Gin. Always will." He breathed, his eyes twinkling.

Ginny laughed softly, a tear escaping her eye. She leaned down and pressed her shoulder against her cheek to catch it, "I love you, too, Harry." She sniffed before shaking her head to dispel the sadness she obviously felt. "Now, let's start living our lives!"

Harry leant against his bedroom door feeling lighter than he had in years. Ginny and he had spent a little while deciding how they were going to begin ending their marriage before she had excused herself to go and see her lover, and Harry had wasted no time in sprinting up the stairs to phone Draco and give him the news.

He pushed away from the door with an exhilarated smile, however, as he reached for his phone, wisps of white, misty light appeared before him. He watched the wisps cautiously, glancing at the sneakascope which he'd owned since Hogwarts that sat dormant on his bedside table. So, it wasn't dangerous, whatever it was, as it hadn't set the device off. He decided it looked like wisps of a patronus that hadn't quite taken on a shape, but he hadn't produced it - he wasn't even holding his wand.

Harry's thoughts, inexplicably, flickered to Draco and worry he couldn't quite dampen down caused him to chew on his nails. He didn't know what to do, he could hardly speak to the blonde about it as he knew how the other man would react to talk of magic. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with Draco…

Draco finished cleaning the kitchen floor after a multitude of jars had flown from the pantry and smashed against the tiles, and he cursed his luck that his magical outbursts always presented themselves in the kitchen where it was guaranteed to cause the most mess.

He sat propped against a lower cupboard and allowed himself a moment to relax. The outbursts were becoming more frequent, he mused, his eyes lingering on the bin that held the pile of broken glass from his most recent incident. It was all Harry's doing, he was certain of it. In the 10 years since Draco had last used his wand, he'd experienced maybe 1 or 2 outbursts a year, usually around Christmas and summer when his stress levels at work would explode.

He was now experiencing them daily, and it was usually as a result of something Harry said in one of his many text messages.

Draco grinned as he thought Harry's name and he shook his head at how goofy he was becoming, and the kitchen drawers wobbled ominously. The smile dropped from his face as he realised the chances of another clean up operation if he stayed put, and he pulled himself to his feet escaping quickly into the hall.

He wandered down the hall towards the lounge, his thoughts drifting to the Dr Who re-runs he knew were playing on tv that evening, when he felt himself stop by the closet he usually pretended didn't exist. His eyes fell on the wood panelling of the natural wood door, and he ran his fingers down the grain, lost in thought. He hadn't opened that particular closet since a few days after he had moved in and he swallowed as the bizarre urge to wrench the door open filtered through his body.

His inner magic reacted as though it was spurring him on, and the door rattled beneath his hand in response. Closing his eyes and pressing his hand more firmly against the wood, Draco imagined the door opening, "Alohamora" he whispered. He hadn't seriously expected anything to happen, as he'd only ever cast spells whilst using his wand, so the gasped that escaped him when the lock clicked and the handle turned, was of genuine surprise.

Draco watched, wide-eyed, as the door swung open, jerking backwards before it could hit him, and he winced as the handle hit against the wall, knowing that it would have left a mark on the paintwork. He took a deep, calming breath, wrinkling his nose as the stale, musty air escaped its confines, and gazed into the small space.

His Hogwarts chest sat innocently in the foot of the closet, with a selection of robes folded in a box on top. A broomstick leaned against the corner, and a long thin box that contained his wand peeked out from beneath the twigs.

Draco didn't move for a long moment. He simply stood, rooted to the spot, trying his best to calm his heart that pounded with trepidation. His hands tingled as he felt magical residue begin to collect, and he shook them in an attempt to dispel it.

Making a snap decision and acting before he really thought it through, Draco sank to the ground and reached into the closet to retrieve his wand. With trembling fingers, he lifted the lid and pulled back the organza wrappings to reveal his wand.

It wasn't really 'his' wand, not his original. He'd lost that when Harry had turned up at Malfoy Manor in the hands of snatchers all those years ago, though he shoved the memory away roughly before he could dwell on it too much.

He had obtained this wand when he was still undecided about what he wanted from his future and had only used it a handful of times before he resolved to disappear into the muggle world.

He upturned the box, letting the wand fall into his hand and he felt a jolt of electricity shoot up his arm and through his body. Exhilaration swept over him and he closed his eyes as he felt all the wild magic within him centre to the wand in his hand. He was momentarily thrown back to being 11 years old, when he'd found his wand in Ollivander's and the joy he'd felt at finally being able to channel magic accurately.

The memory turned sour as he recalled his father making him practice spells on House-elves and physically caning him when he got the spells wrong. The years that had followed were tainted with pain and regret, and he supressed tears that stung at the corners of his eyes as he recalled the trauma he'd experienced, recoiling from the haunting recollections.

He tried to think of something else; to think of happy memories, digging down deep into his past to find something, anything, positive. And there it was - Harry. Harry was the only positive. Watching Harry flying was the only thing that had given Draco any joy in the dark years of his youth. Watching him train, watching him soar – it had taken Draco's breath away. He used the memory as a talisman, protecting him from the pain, and he thought Harry's name over and over again. Harry!

All of a sudden, his magic seemed to converge at his fingertips and shoot towards his wand, and wisps of light shot out of the end and dispersed through the walls.

Crying out in alarm, Draco flung the wand back into the closet, closely followed by the box and its lid, and he scooted back until he was pressed against the wall, his stomach clenching painfully tight as though he were going to vomit. The ever-present magic fizzed again, and he flicked his hand in order to disperse it, causing the door to the closet to swing shut.

He clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, willing his breathing to slow, however he could feel the panic attack taking hold of him.

A vibration came from within Draco's trouser pocket, but he was too far gone; the tears he'd tried to supress sprang forth and his head fell into his hands as sobs wracked his body. He'd been wrong to go poking at his past, to think he was strong enough to uncover the festering wound that was his heritage, and he pulled at the roots of his hair as resentment swallowed him.

After a few minutes, his phone vibrated again, and he managed to wrench himself from his pit of despair, inhaling deeply as he attempted to get a hold of himself. He thought of Harry again, and it acted like an anchor; the more he focused on Harry's face in his mind's eye, the easier his breathing became.

He reached down and extracted his phone from his pocket, letting his fingers slide across the screen.

'Hey, you okay?' Read the first message, followed quickly by 'My spidey-senses are tingling! Lol' Draco frowned as he noted the timing of the messages and how the contents seemed eerily connected to what he'd just experienced. Surely that couldn't just be coincidental?

Another message appeared on the screen as Draco considered the possibilities, 'I'll facetime if you don't answer and we know how your hair can be!' and despite himself, he laughed and rolled his eyes. As he gazed at the screen, Harry's name appeared as the Facetime kicked in, and he gazed in wonder at the former Gryffindor's persistence.

Without thinking of the repercussions, Draco swiped the button across to answer, and Harry's frowning expression came into view, which instantly relaxed into a smile, "Hey." He breathed, his eyes twinkling, causing Draco's breath to catch in his throat. Harry seemed to notice Draco's puffy, bloodshot eyes, and his smile morphed into a grimace.

"I knew something was wrong, I thought I saw a patronus but it didn't have a form," Harry explained, a line appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned. "What's happened, are you okay? You're upset!"

Draco's eyes widened in surprised and a stray tear slid down his face. He swiped it away roughly, "I'm fine, Potter, stop fussing." Draco scowled, very aware of how hideous he looked. His hair, much to his chagrin, was worse than the last time they had video called. He focused on the Patronus comment, "What are you talking about – A patronus with no form?" he asked, stiffly.

Frowning at Draco's obvious unwillingness to share what was troubling him, Harry concentrated on the odd occurrence that had taken place before the call, "A few minutes ago, smoky wisps of light appeared in front of me. It was strange."

Draco controlled his facial expression with difficulty. He thought of the similar light that had erupted from his wand and felt his heart pick up its pace as he considered the possibility that the two instances were connected. Clearing his throat, Draco tried to appear unconcerned, "It was strange, so you thought of me. Thanks." He murmured, an eyebrow sliding up in a silent challenge.

It had the desired effect; Harry's face drained of colour and he began to splutter apologetically, "No! Of course not, that's not what I meant. I just…I wanted to make sure everything was okay." He explained, his face earnest. His emerald eyes raked over Draco's face, "Are you okay?" he added in a small voice.

Draco ignored the question. His eyes drifted from Harry's face to the closet door, and he swallowed with a little difficulty, "I don't have a patronus," he admitted, wondering if the light that he had produced was actually what Harry thought it was. "I was never able to produce one." He whispered, more to himself than to Harry.

Harry frowned, "But something's wrong, you're upset – that can't be a coincidence!" He exclaimed, incredulously. "It was like something was calling to me!" he added. He began to try and simultaneously hold his phone and pull a jumper over his head, and Draco rolled his eyes as he sensed where Harry's thoughts were leading him to.

"What's your address? I can be there now!" The brunette implored, swearing softly when he became tangled in the neck of his hoodie.

Draco let his eyes fall closed as his head fell back against the wall behind him, and he wished he could be the kind of person who could let someone come and rescue them. The Slytherin in him pushed back, "Potter, calm yourself." He breathed, listening as Harry continued to fight with his clothes, "Harry, stop, please! I'm fine." He whispered, allowing his voice to turn soft.

Harry fell silent. Draco could feel his eyes on him, even through the screen, and he swallowed against his dry throat.

"You don't look fine." Harry said softly, frustration in his tone. Draco knew it was killing the other man; not being able to come to the rescue, and the thought caused Draco's lips to twitch.

He let his head drop to his shoulder so Harry could see his face again, and he took a shuddering breath. Harry blinked, more than aware of how vulnerable Draco appeared in that moment, and he couldn't help but feel as though he'd passed through another one of the blonde's many defences.

"I wasn't, but I am now. Honestly." Draco murmured softly.

Harry pursed his lips in disbelief and heaved a sigh. He wanted very much to be with Draco, where he could just pull the blonde into an embrace and fight away the woe that had obviously befallen him. He hated that he had to do this through a bloody smart phone!

"You won't let me be there for you." Harry smiled sadly. It wasn't an accusation, just an acknowledgment. He understood, even if he disagreed whole heartedly, that Draco would never let him be his saviour.

Draco kept eye contact but shook his head once, "No." He admitted, his expression remorseful but determined. He watched as sorrow dimmed Harry's bright eyes, even though the brunette tried his best to hide it, and he felt his resolve falter a little. "Not yet." He conceded after a moment.

A watery smile pulled at Harry's lips and the light returned to his eyes, "Not yet." He repeated warmly. He appeared to hesitate for a moment, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, before he took a small, meaningful breath "Do I need to be concerned about the magic I saw?" Harry asked gently.

Draco cleared his throat self-consciously, his face twisting with embarrassment. He seemed to not trust his voice as he merely shook his head, his eyes downcast. He was the picture of guilt, and it made Harry sad that Draco felt so disgusted by his own magic.

Curiosity burned inside Harry like none other, and he desperately wanted to know the details behind Draco's apparent magical outburst. Deep down, Harry was delighted by the fact the blonde's magic was reaching out to him, but he worried about the impact that would have on the former Slytherin.

He focused his attention back on Draco, reading the lines of stress and self-loathing painted across his face, and realised he'd give anything to see the blonde smile.

When they'd reconnected, Draco had told him that he was truly happy in his new life, and the brunette couldn't help but feel that he was making him unhappy simply by being in his life.

"You want me to back off?" Harry asked suddenly, watching Draco's expression as closely as he could on such a small screen. The blonde man's eyes widened ever so slightly and glanced away to a point just off to the side of the camera, and the angle shifted as though he had almost dropped his device.

Draco's stomach clenched painfully tight again and he felt as though he might vomit. Was Harry looking for an excuse to pull back? Had Draco's refusal to let him come to his flat and the weird magic he'd somehow managed to send to Harry been the final straw? He didn't know how to respond, afraid that if he answered no, the brunette would think he needed him, but if he said yes, he would disappear.

"Draco?" Harry breathed, desperation lacing his tone, "Please look at me."

Draco's bit his lip as he tried to keep his magic in check and steeled himself for the onslaught of emotions that would flicker across Harry's ridiculously readable face. He turned his gaze, stormy grey meeting emerald green, and the anxiety that reflected back made him feel dreadful.

"Do you want me to back off?" Harry asked again. Draco noticed that the brunette's breathing was heavier, and the set of his mouth was harder. He realised that he'd have to do it, he'd have to do the thing he hated most – he'd have to give Harry power over him.

"No," he breathed, shaking his head slowly. He swallowed down the panic he felt at putting himself so completely out there and pressed on before he changed his mind, "That's the last thing I want."

Harry's eyes fell closed in apparent relief and a smile spread across his face as he released the breath he's been holding through his nose, "Shit, you scared me for minute then!" he admitted, blowing another breath throw his mouth as he ran his hand over his face.

Draco didn't miss the glint of Harry's wedding ring, "However," Draco began, his expression and tone hardening as he was reminded again of the fact Harry was married, "I can't let you in…"

Harry's hand dropped from his face in alarm and he blinked in obvious confusion, "What?" he asked, "Why?"

"Because of that on your left hand, Harry." Draco declared with a humourless laugh, shaking his head at how shit his luck was. Harry glanced down, obviously at the ring on his finger and back up to Draco, his expression aghast.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Draco stopped him, holding his own hand up and closing his eyes, "I'm not pressuring you to leave your wife, Potter." He added, "I'm not telling you to do anything, because that's something you need to do in your own time. You just need to know that I won't let you any closer than you already are whilst you're married. I can't."

Strangely, Harry smiled at this admission. He propped his phone on his bedside table and Draco watched as he began to pull the ring off his finger. He looked at it for a moment before glancing up at Draco, his eyes bright with wonder. Harry then reached down and retrieved his wand from his calf holster and held it against the ring.

With his eyes locked on Draco's stunned orbs, Harry whispered "Incendio" and the ring burned up. "Ginny and I are divorcing," he breathed, exhilarated. He felt as though the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders as the ring, the thing that handcuffed him to the life he'd never wanted, disappeared forever, "I ended it an hour ago."

The lights flickered on Draco's screen as his hallway bulb dimmed and brightened a few times, and Harry watched as the blonde sat immobile. He would have thought the screen had frozen if it weren't for the lights.

"Draco?" Harry said, his voice cautious, a frown pulling his dark eyebrows together.

The light in Draco's hallway grew brighter and brighter, throwing Draco's pale complexion and bloodshot, black ringed eyes into sharper focus. His metallic eyes widened before the bulb grew so bright that it exploded, plunging Draco's hall into darkness, and Harry cried out in surprise.

"Fuck!" Draco murmured; his voice weak. He cleared his throat roughly, and Harry watched as he blinked rapidly in the dim glow of his phone screen, as though he was waking from a daydream.

"Did you just blow the light?" Harry asked in disbelief. He picked his phone back up and looked more closely at what was visible around Draco. From the angle of the camera, he could make out a deep red, almost burgundy, coloured wall and what looked natural wood skirting boards that blended with wooden flooring, "Are you sat on the floor?" he asked, confused.

"Potter, has anyone ever told you, you ask too many questions?!" Draco rumbled, his eyes glancing up to the blown light-bulb and he heaved a sigh. His mind was buzzing like a swarm of angry bees as he tried to process the things Harry was saying, and he realised he was being severe with the brunette for no other reason than he felt out of his depth.

Harry floundered, unsure of how to respond. Draco was giving off the impression that he was irritated with him, which seemed at odds with the words he had spoken earlier.

Noticing Harry's uncertainty, Draco heaved another sigh, before an impossible idea came to him. Though, it no longer seemed so impossible. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he swallowed down the sudden nerves that sprang forth as he gazed at Harry through his pale lashes, "How do you feel about trying the dinner thing again?" he asked coyly.

Harry's face broke out in a grin, "Really?" he exclaimed brightly, "Yes. I'll even let you choose the recipe this time," he added, apparently elated with the turn of events.

Draco realised Harry had misunderstood, "Well, I thought maybe this time we could cook one meal…together…in the same kitchen…"

Harry's grin slid from his face and he audibly swallowed. His eyes shifted from excited to smouldering, "Like a…Like a date?" he asked, his voice husky, as though he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard.

Draco forged on before he lost his nerve, "Yes," He breathed, "A date." Exhilaration flooded his body as he watched Harry's expression glow with pleasure, and he fought to keep his own emotions in check. The fantasy of him and Harry sat across from each other, sharing a meal, presented itself to him as it had when they'd cooked together, and the muscles below his waist clenched with excitement.

Harry sat up straighter, blinking rapidly, and he licked his lips before clamping his teeth around his lower one, "I'd love to."