I was wowed by the responses to last chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed! In Draco's note later this chapter, the words in bold italics were parts that Draco wrote and then crossed out.

Draco's tongue danced across Harry's lips for a moment before the blond realized what was happening and clamped his mouth shut. Harry couldn't tell if he was smiling or pouting, but his lips felt far too soft to be pressed in a frown. Struck by a sudden boldness, Harry curled his arm around Draco's back to pull him closer. Draco blinked and kept his eyes shut. He looked as if he were dreaming.

Then something bit Harry. And it wasn't Draco.

"Gah!" Harry jerked back, only to find Albus hanging from his finger. "Mmphguh," the doorknob said behind clenched teeth.

"Hey! I wanna see!" Scorpius shouted from Harry's other pocket. "Are they using tongue? You owe me twenty fruit flies if they're using tongue!"

Draco's hand flew to his mouth, rubbing his lips, as if to wipe away the kiss. Or spread it onto his fingers, Harry thought optimistically. At least Draco seemed more shocked than disgusted, although his nose wrinkled at the smell. Harry was about to scold Albus when he realized that he'd just transferred all the blood and dirt from his shirt onto Draco's undoubtedly expensive robes. "Oh, Merlin, I am so… I can pay for the dry cleaning bill. And a new set of robes."

As if his glare weren't enough to convey his response, Draco threw off his robes, leaving him standing in the middle of Harry's office wearing nothing but his trousers.

Those came off as soon as they apparated into Harry's bedroom. As their backs hit the mattress, Draco grabbed Harry, who feared for a second that the blond was trying to strangle him. He was able to dismiss that thought rather quickly. Draco wouldn't be dumb enough to strange him in his own house. Or to start snoring while he was doing so.

Harry adjusted his position within the stranglehold— had he valued his private parts less, he would have called it a cuddle— and joined Draco in his slumber. As his eyes shut, he swore he saw two shadows tip toeing across the room and nesting in the folds of the covers.

~D~H~

The first thing Harry noticed when he woke up was that he was alone. He didn't find that unusual until memories from last night started going off like an alarm in his head. He slid out of bed and noticed the covers had been thrown into a lump on the floor. It seemed strange behavior from someone like Draco, who even folded his underwear. (Harry didn't want to get into how he knew that except that it had been a legitimately accidental discovery.) He only relaxed when the scent of coffee and vanilla drifted up the stairs. Draco insisted coffee had been discovered by a potions master who had been duped into sharing his recipes with a devious Muggle (as if there were any other kind).

Sure enough, he found Draco in the kitchen, topping off a latte with a layer of whipped cream. "Hey," Harry said.

Draco avoided his gaze, focusing instead on perfecting his swirl of whipped cream. "Morning."

Harry cleared his throat. "So. Er. Did you sleep well?"

"I don't know, Potter. Did I?"

Harry's heart sank. Were they back to Potter now? Or had they never left it in the first place? "Look, Draco, I'm sorry—"

Draco rolled his eyes. Harry winced, remembering how much the blond hated that particular combination of words. He had his best sulk face on— Harry had names for all of them. This one looked like a mash-up of How Dare You Wear the Same Shirt As Me, You Hag and We're Out of Coffee. Since the latter clearly wasn't the case, this meant bad news indeed. "Big Bad Death Eater doesn't need to be handled with kid gloves. Just say what you have to say, and be done with it."

"Okay." Harry took a deep breath— why did Malfoy have to use a metaphor that involved him being handled right before Harry was about to make the biggest confession of his life?— then blurted, "I like you."

Draco froze. Then, in a very calculated motion, he took a sip of his coffee, swallowed, and exhaled deeply. Harry winced. Here it comes…

"Could you repeat that?"

"Er… I like you," Harry repeated slowly. "I like you, and I've liked you for a long time."

Draco's mouth parted just enough for Harry to see his teeth, which of course, were perfect, except for the small one on the left that looked a little fang-like. "Did Weasley pay you to say that? I didn't think he think he could afford it. But I suppose, with Granger—"

"No one is paying me to say anything." If he took the time to scold Draco for making fun of Ron, then he might lose to courage to tell Draco how he felt. "I know, you think it's crazy, and I did too at first. I thought it was just a physical thing that would go away with time. But it didn't. And now I know why."

He took a seat beside Draco and grabbed his hand. Draco gave a half-hearted tug toward his coffee but otherwise let Harry caress his fingers. "You're as clever as Hermione, but whether you use it to invent a potion that cures cancer or spew out creative insults is anyone's guess. You have this bourgeoisie attitude that I just don't understand, but it's either incredibly impressive or incredibly insulting. You always want to be the best, which means you're either full of it or working your arse off trying to be a good student, janitor, cousin even. You… you're… you're so irritating!"

"Oh, thank Merlin," Draco sighed. "I thought you were professing your love to me."

Harry threw up his arms. "See? That! That is why I fell in love with you! You are an arsehole, and for some reason, I like it!"

Draco's lips twitched into a smirk as he took a sip of his coffee in attempts to hide his amusement, unsuccessfully.

Harry shook his head. "You know, I only say those kinds of things in front of you."

"Good," Draco replied, suddenly pushing his mug aside and sliding himself closer to Harry. He whispered in Harry's ear: "Because I don't like sharing."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "Does this mean…?"

Draco answered by pulling into the best snog of his entire life.

~D~H~

"Say cheddar!" Arthur Weasley announced before pressing the button. The camera flashed in his face as a picture of squinted eyes printed out the other side. "Huh. There appears to be something wrong with the cameron."

"Camera," Hermione corrected from her chair in the middle of the group posing for the picture. "You have to turn it around."

"Oh, I see!" Mr. Weasley flipped it upside down and snapped a picture of the grass.

The group groaned. Harry exchanged an amused glance with Hermione, who was starting to regret inviting her Muggle relatives to her baby shower. Mr. Weasley, of course, was thrilled to soak up the culture, to the point that Hermione had had to make up several diseases that her father-in-law supposedly suffered from which made him so eccentric.

"Oh, bollocks," Mr. Weasley sighed. "There's a red light that's blinking. Should I attach one of my plugs to it?"

"Actually," Ron interrupted, "why don't we do pictures after we eat? That way we'll all have food babies and look more like my Hermione."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione giggled. Behind their backs, Harry made a face and prayed that if he ever got that way, Draco would hit him. Odds were, he would; he did it enough anyway. Just thinking about it made Harry blush. He hadn't brought the blond to the baby shower, of course. There was no need to be responsible for the premature birth of his goddaughter.

In the middle of his own grimace, George caught his eye and headed over to join Harry. Aside from Harry and their younger nieces and nephews, he was the only one here without a date, a subject that worried his parents to no end. They thought it had to do with Fred. They had also thought that Harry would propose to Ginny as soon as they were both out of school, but in this case, Harry suspected Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were right.

George handed Harry a glass of Firewhisky. "If you're going to be sick, might as well have a reason for it, eh?"

"You didn't have to be stuck in a cave with him when he thought he was going to starve to death."

George grimaced. "I don't know which is worse, lovesick Ron or Ron without food."

They laughed as Ron chose that exact moment to choke on one of the shrimp Hermione dropped into his mouth. Apparently, she was still working up to that gumbo recipe.

Sipping his Firewhiskey, Harry turned away from the lovers. "What have you been up to, George? I feel like we haven't talked as much lately."

George waved his hand. "Oh, the usual business. Still working out the kinks in those 'I Can't Believe It's Not Stutter' Quills."

"You mean they weren't supposed to turn my letters into nonsensical garble?"

George grinned. "They were. I was just hoping it might do other things as well."

Usually, Harry got a laugh out of George's pranks, but the odd glint in George's eye made him wary. "Like?"

George shrugged. "I'll let you know when they start working."

Harry made a note not to borrow George's writing utensils anytime soon. "Alright. What about things besides work?"

George tilted his head. "What do you mean, Harry? I play all day."

Although Harry believed it, he shoved George anyway. "You know what I mean. Met anyone lately?"

George fluttered his eyes. "Why, Harry, I didn't think you were interested."

"I'm not— I'm just making conversation."

"You know, that used to be a synonym for sex in Victorian times."

Harry planted his palm against his forehead. "I drop the subject." An idea struck him. "But if you haven't met anyone new, maybe you should think of reconnecting with someone from Hogwarts. Not to—'make conversation' with. Just, you know, to talk to."

George laughed. "Fantastic idea, Harry. Tea with Millicent Bullstrode. African safari with Romilda Vane. Sausage festival with Draco Malfoy."

"I was thinking more along the lines of coffee with Angelina Johnson, but anything can happen." Thinking about Draco in relation to sausages forced him to resort to the cliché.

"Malfoy it is then," George proclaimed. "Do you think he's more of a brat or chorizo guy? Then there's the toppings. Sour kraut, no doubt, sprinkled with Slytherin green relish."

"Uh…" George had lost him at the word "toppings."

"Then," George continued, "maybe we could talk about how he poisoned my brother, let a werewolf that maim my other brother, killed—" He drew in a sharp breath. "Fought beside the man who killed my other, other brother."

Apparently, even now, he couldn't bring himself to say Fred's name. He downed the rest of his glass and with it, the rest of his tirade. "Anything he has to say to me, he can say to my left ear." George turned his head to showcase the giant hole in his head, which admittedly would have been more effective if he hadn't been using it to carry his napkin.

Harry bit his tongue, which ached to defend Draco. He had been young, brainwashed, lonely, and afraid. But those were excuses, not defenses. And this wasn't about Draco, but about George. Or rather, Fred. The two had always been indistinguishable.

George lifted his finger. "And another thing, Romilda Vane has…"

Harry handed George his glass. "I get it. It's not of my business. But…" Harry stood up. "Most of the things that make life worth living aren't business at all."

George shrugged. "You, my friend, don't work in a joke shop." He tipped his glass in the air. "Being single—" He winced at his own word choice. "—a bachelor isn't so bad. You would know that. Right?"

Had there ever been a time when not so bad sounded good? Harry suppressed a sigh. "Right."

~D~H~

"Well, that's wrong." Harry sat, cross-legged on his study floor, examining the sheet of parchment laid out in front of him. Beside him, Toothless was in the process of drowning the teddy bear Hagrid had sent him in drool.

For weeks, Harry had been attempting to replicate the Animal Artist's process of inserting Toothless into a portrait. Even with Hermione's help, all he had ended up with was some barking parchment and teeth marks on his wrist. Sighing at his latest failed experiment, he turned to a different pile of parchment.

He still hadn't told Draco about the letters. The fact was, for all he'd changed, Draco still had enough pride to form a pack of lions. Harry had kept this secret for too many months for Draco not to feel slighted. What if the letters reminded Draco of their school rivalry? What if he resented Harry for lying to him? It sounded silly in his head but not to his heart. Draco was always more cautious with his affection. Sometimes, the touches in the dark made the blond lash out, and although Harry was almost positive it had nothing to do with him, the fact was, he had been Draco's enemy once.

What if Draco felt that an enemy was all he deserved? It was a dark, dark thought, but Harry couldn't force it out of his mind, not after Draco had talked about not being able to find a pureblood bride so lightly less than a year ago.

He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he'd missed. Had he really left Draco's first letter out on his desk in plain sight? Who would have rifled through his things? Ron had been with him, as had Albus and Scorpius. No one else could bypass the wards on their office.

He was paging aimlessly through the old letters when a memo fell out. At first, he thought he'd misfiled it, but once he read it, he smiled. And read it again. And smiled even more as he got up and searched for Draco.

Draco rearranged the papers he was working on when he saw Harry approach. "What's that?" he asked as Harry waved the memo in the air.

"The memo you sent me before we went out to dinner that first time. It made me realize something."

A brief look of panic crossed Draco's face. "What's that?" he repeated with the same airiness.

Harry read the incriminating line. "I might conveniently teach it to regale you with certain love ballads comparing your eyes to a fresh pickled toad and the sort. Funny how you remember that word for word."

"It was funny," Draco replied, seeming to relax, "watching the Weaselette embarrass herself like that."

"Sure," Harry agreed. "Except it wasn't from her."

Draco frowned. "Of course it was. She admitted to it."

"As I recall, you were the one who said it was from her," Harry replied, resting his neck on Draco's shoulder. "You said I must not have liked her Valentine very much."

"Mmmm, and now we all know why," Draco said, attempting to pull Harry into a kiss.

Harry skillfully— and regretfully— dodged his lover. "You know what was the dead giveaway?" He leaned in close so that his breath whistled against Draco's ear. "You called him the Dark Lord. Only Death Eaters call him the Dark Lord."

Draco scowled. "Dead for five years, and he's still ruining my life. Fine. I sent you the Valentine. But only to humiliate you in front of everyone. I sure as hell didn't have a crush on you."

Harry smirked. "Sure you didn't. That's why you pretended it was from Ginny when I didn't show any interest in it."

"All part of my master plan! And besides, can you blame me for using the Dark Lord? I mean, what rhymes with Vol—?" Draco cut himself off abruptly, the color draining from his face. Harry wondered if he'd ever spoken it aloud before. If it were anyone else, he'd say it three times in succession, just to prove the point that the name wasn't poisonous. But for Draco, a single syllable was a victory.

Harry tried to lighten the mood. "Sweetheart, you ended up going with blackboard. Clearly you weren't being too picky."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, and then: "Sweetheart?"

"You have so many creative names for me, don't I deserve a few?"

"Not ones that make me sound like a Hufflepuff! I'm not that in love with you."

"Ha!" Harry jumped up triumphantly. "You just admitted you were in love with me."

"I thought that much was obvious," Draco said, snuggling closer to him. "Then again, I always said you were an idiot."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe I need it spelled out."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Poor baby. You want me to send you another Valentine?" Not waiting for a response, he pulled out a quill and scribbled a few lines on some parchment. After a few minutes and several revisions, he handed it back to Harry. "Here you go, sweetheart."

His eyes are as green as Avada Kedavra an avocado.

His hair is as dark as my Dark Mark Snape's (who doesn't use shampoo).

I wish he was mine— no, wait, he is mine,

The hero who conquered my heart You-Know-You, times two.

Now let's go screw.

"How romantic," Harry said. "And mildly disturbing."

"Me in a nutshell," Draco replied. "Did you read the last line?"

Harry nodded and took up the suggestion. But that didn't mean he was going to forget about the rest of the note, a manifestation of Draco's nightmares. One of these days, Harry was going to broach the topic. But for now, the best way of healing was to create happy memories to fall back on.

Memories.

Not expecting Harry's abrupt stop, Draco yanked Harry's arm forward and nearly tripped when the rest of him didn't follow. "What?"

Harry's mind was on the letters again. If he reviewed the memory in a pensive, he would be able to see whether he left the letter out or not. The longer he waited, the cloudier the memory would get.

Harry smiled. "I'm trying to think of something that rhymes with perfection."

Draco shot a pointed glance at his trousers.

They did not make it up the stairs.

~D~H~

"I totally forgot Hermione's baby shower was coming up, and I have no idea what to get her. Or am I supposed to get something for the baby?"

Harry wished he could ditch his past self and head straight for the office. Staring at the donuts was making him drool.

"Both, I think. Er, it isn't an actual shower."

Harry snorted. This was probably a waste of time. He'd be better off putting his memory from this afternoon in the pensive. The look on Draco's face when he finally realized Harry had been lying about still being able to speak Parseltongue had been priceless.

"Just start brainstorming."

And there it was. Only for a split second, but undeniably real.

"I'll try to get you some fieldwork soon."

It wasn't his desk that held the answers after all; it was Brian's desk. He had mistaken the intern's hunched shoulders for disappointment, when really, it had been a way of concealing what lay on the desk. Only two words stood out, barely legible in the shadowy haze.

Draco Malfoy.

Thanks again for all the reviews! Hope you enjoyed the fluff!