A/N: Sorry for the late update, guys! I know you've been really looking forward to it, but I had to do quite a bit of clean-up before it was presentable for here. :: sheepish look ::

If you're longing for that extra bit of smut, you can check my site (to which there is a link in my profile) for the uncensored version.

---XXX---

Chapter Four
Lonely Nights

"Don't know what's goin' on,
Don't know what went wrong,
Feels like a hundred years,
I still can't believe you're gone.

So I'll stay up all night,
With these bloodshot eyes,
While these walls surround me
With the story of our life…"
-- Gone Forever (Three Days Grace)

Harry had known that dinner would be a disaster. Obviously, telling Ron and Hermione right away that Draco was a subject he wasn't willing to breach hadn't been a good decision on his part, as it just spurred more questions from them. When he refused to answer any of them, Ron had become incensed, and Hermione just continued to shoot him an annoyingly sympathetic look. It made Harry's insides churn. The night had gone to hell fast, and there had been no way to repair it.

With many hasty excuses at the end of dinner, along with promises to do it again soon, Harry left the Weasley home more down in the dumps than he had been upon arrival. His night had been anything but restful, and he had been lucky to manage to squeeze in the two hours of sleep that he had achieved.

He had a meeting with the Weasley twins today to discuss one of their new inventions that was "bound to be a major hit", according to them. Already they were branching off into other franchises, and neither the clothing industry or the sweets corporation were safe from their ever-growing ambitions.

The Weasleys' shop had been a huge success, and they already owned three companies nationwide. A few months before, they had made the decision to begin branching out into other countries.

The money the Weasley twins earned went towards not only themselves, but to the rest of their family, as well. Although at first Mrs. Weasley had been adamant about refusing their offer, the more money they made the harder it became for her to say no - especially since, even though she refused it, somehow or another the money always found it's way to her home anyway, usually in odd places such as in a cookie jar, or under a rug.

Eventually she had given up her protests. Although she still didn't want to accept the money, she really had no choice in the matter, and so she decided that it was better to leave well-enough alone.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, Harry glared at his reflection. It was obvious that Harry had lost a lot of sleep the night before. Wearily, he straightened his business robes and righted his glasses on his nose. Running his hand through his hair, he sighed.

"I love your hair, Harry. Never change it," Draco's voice filled his head, and he smiled softly at the memory of Draco proceeding to kiss every inch of his face before burying his own in Harry's hair and snuggling into him tightly.

He really had nothing left to lose. Closing his eyes to fend off the tears that were always threatening to come if he let his guard down, Harry took deep breaths to stabilize himself before he became a walking wreck.

He wondered briefly if the letter he'd written to Draco had found him all right. He had recently started to write to him weekly, but never knew if Draco received the hopeful correspondences. Harry himself had no idea where Draco was, but Hedwig apparently did. She always came back looking tired but proud of herself, but there was never a letter with her, be it his own, or a response.

Shaking his head, Harry refused to think about those things. They always plagued him, nagging at the back of his brain, but right now, he had to focus on things that were more important. All the same, he snorted at the notion that anything was more important to him than Draco was, because Draco had always been his life.

The show had to go on, though, whether or not the stars were willing to play their parts.

Stepping away from the mirror, Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket. Drawing in another deep breath, he closed his eyes and lifted it. With a quick flick of his wrist, there was a loud crack and Harry disappeared.

---XXX---

Harry watched in amusement as Fred and George bickered between themselves. Fred continued to claim that the jelly rats they had recently invented did the Mambo when placed upon the tongue, whereas George insisted that they were instead doing the Rumba. Harry found that he didn't much care one way or the other, but Fred and George had ascertained that they must discover which dance the rat actually performed.

These jelly rats were just one in a line of many dancing "candied creatures", each doing a different and more outrageous dance than the last. Harry had decided that the twins were right - the jelly rats were going to be a major hit - after watching them each place a rat on their tongues. They stuck them out as if it were a contest between them, and both rats danced wildly along their tongues, writhing and squirming, until they were mere specks.

By this time, of course, both were drooling abundantly, and still neither had come to a conclusion.

Sharing a grin, George and Fred approached Harry, a wriggling, bright fuchsia rat held by the tail between Fred's fingers. "You try it, Harry," George insisted.

Harry flushed slightly. "Er, I don't know. I've, uh, never been very good at dancing,"

Fred and George exchanged wicked looks, and Harry found himself backing away slightly. "Does it matter that much?" Harry asked, eyes flashing warily between the two men and the rat dangling helplessly in Fred's grip.

Fred grinned like a loon, and George stepped up next to Harry to grasp him by the shoulders. "Of course it's important, Harry!" he exclaimed.

"C'mon, mate! You'll like it!" Fred added, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively at Harry. Harry swallowed hard, clamping his mouth shut and shaking his head slightly. Fred and George laughed raucously, and Harry flinched.

"S'alright, mate," George wheedled. "Really."

Harry rolled his eyes - the last time George had said that to him, he'd ended up with bright yellow feathers sprouting from his tongue. Draco had refused to kiss him for days, even after the feathers had disappeared.

He turned his gaze to Fred, and he glared helplessly at him as George pried his mouth open. Fred stepped closer to Harry, and he dropped the rat into his open mouth. Harry yelped in surprise as the rat began to wriggle in his mouth, and George and Fred sprang away from him as his eyes became wide and the rat began to turn flips and bang against his teeth. It was almost like a violent kiss.

Harry almost spat the writhing creature out of his mouth, but before he could, it began to move more seductively. If Harry closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that it was a tongue - Draco's tongue - working it's way around his mouth, caressing and exploring in a way that Harry never wanted to end.

He let out a soft whimper, and immediately, two strong hands were on his shoulders. "All right, Harry?" two voices chorused together.

Harry managed to nod, clenching his eyes closed tightly and willing the sensations to go away. Surprisingly, the jelly rat ceased all movement. Sighing in relief, Harry managed to swallow the thick mass of goop.

Fred and George, still gripping him by the shoulders, shared a concerned look. "Sorry 'bout that mate," George said, squeezing Harry's shoulder sympathetically.

"D'you think we might not have worked out some of the bugs?" Fred asked, looking at his twin in trepidation.

Harry shook his head wildly. "No, no, I just…it surprised me," he said, voice wavering slightly. George shot him a look to say that he didn't believe his excuse for a second, but neither man bothered to speak the words that Harry knew they were thinking.

Harry sighed and shook the hands off his shoulders. "Really, guys. It was nothing. I promise."

As George and Fred shared another look, Harry rolled his eyes and brushed past them. "You know I wouldn't let you guys sell something bad to your customers. Besides, you've tested them on yourselves many times before - you would know if there were something wrong with it. Obviously, there isn't, or you wouldn't have let me try one."

Fred and George shared another look, but grudgingly let the matter drop. After many long moments of awkward silence, George cracked a grin. "So," he began.

Fred's smile broke onto his face moments later. "What was the dance, Harry?" he completed his twin's unasked question.

Harry flushed brightly. "Er, honestly?" At both twins' eager nods, Harry grimaced in apology. "It just felt like a lot of banging around to me."

George rolled his eyes in amusement, and Fred smiled ruefully.

Harry flushed darker. "I told you I don't know much about dancing!" he cried in defense.

Both twins laughed heartily, clapping Harry on the back. "That's all right, Harry," they managed to choke out in between brays. Their amusement prodded Harry into his own reluctant grin, and when he left their flat, he couldn't help but be in high spirits.

---XXX---

After stopping by the Burrow to have a word with Mrs. Weasley (and Hermione, who had also suspiciously been there), Harry entered his flat wearily, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. He dropped his keys carelessly on the coffee table just inside the entrance, and shut the door with his foot as he struggled out of his robes, dropping them in a trail as he made his way to the couch and slumped bonelessly onto it.

Harry's head lulled back against the armrest, and he stared blankly up at the ceiling. Millions of thoughts raced through his mind, but he was unable to focus clearly on any of them. Head pounding, Harry curled up on his side. Cradling his head between his hands, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Harry woke up later that night to dreams of Draco and yearning for the warmth of his familiar body.

Rolling to his side, Harry curled into the fetal position. It had been a long time since he had cried himself to sleep, but now tears spilt down his cheeks in rivulets.

When he had cried himself dry, his body heaving and eyes aching, it took him many minutes to fall into a troubled slumber.

Even in his sleep, longing whimpers filled the empty room well into the night.