Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; this all belongs to JK Rowling. I also do not own the song Bohemian Rhapsody that belongs to Queen.

Author's Notes: Review people! Review! Tell your friends to review! Tell your mothers to review! cough If the content doesn't causes her to faint first of course lol. Review! It's every author's dream and goal I tell you.

Rating: I'm putting M. Just to be safe.

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"We need to talk. Now." A husky voice muttered in Harry's ear, fury ringing in every word. That voice and that smell of cinnamon spice were all too proverbial to Harry, so much that he wondered if it really was healthy.

Harry had taken the Metro to Hogsmeade, and walked from there to Hog's Head. It wasn't that far but it wasn't that near either, and it was somewhat off the beaten track. It was obvious why, by how isolated and vacant the café was, Draco liked this place; it was somewhere he could escape from his fame and fortune. Harry was just about to enter the café when all of a sudden, he caught sight of a flash of blonde hair, and the next thing he knew, he was shoved against a pathway wall in a far too memorable position that brought back very vivid images. Harry scowled inwardly at his own lack of self-control. Wasn't it just this morning when he was tempted to pick up his lamp and bang himself on the head for his behaviour last night? Harry couldn't even meet Draco's eyes unswervingly, with the way the direction of his thoughts were taking.

"Mr. - Mr. Malfoy?" Harry started, slightly intimidated. The traces of passion that was exerted last night were there in Draco's movements, but this time it wasn't a sensual passion, rather passion that accompanied the emotion of anger. "I know we need to talk, I came to explain –" However confident Harry was on the outside, he could hear a quiver in his voice, and he was sure Malfoy could hear it too. It wasn't due to fear or guilt, rather the close proximity of the other man's body against his. It almost felt wrong to stay so stiff in Draco's arms, and not be moving provocatively.

"Explain? Explain why you told the press about last night, and now it's on the front page of the Daily Prophet? God, I hate my privacy being invaded like that." Draco breathed angrily, his sliver blue eyes boring down into Harry's. Draco felt a familiar tightening in his stomach, and a spark of lust shoot down his spine, but then he reminded himself that he was angry at this green eyed Adonis, even though it was hard to stay mad at the utterly mystified and innocent look on Harry's face for long.

"But, but I didn't. T-that's why I came down here, to tell you that this person I know called Colin –" Harry had never felt he had to prove himself to anyone so much before, but for some reason Draco's trust in him was the most important thing on Earth right now.

"Who's Colin? A boyfriend of yours?! I suppose it's karma if I decided to paw a taken man, I mean, it wouldn't make sense if someone like you wasn't involved." Draco sneered, knowing that he had just complimented Harry, but was too caught up in an emotion he forgot how to exhibit long ago, and consequently it's rareness made it feel so much fresher now.

"Colin? No! Why are you acting so jealous? Would you stop jumping to conclusions?" Harry shouted angrily, although he really was in no position to lose his temper, seeing as how he was the one pinned against the wall, with Draco's body touching his and his arms trapping Harry, not the other way around. Sure Draco was a famous star, but that doesn't mean that everything would then be Harry's fault.

Draco scoffed, "Jealous? Oh that's rich." Jealous. Indeed, how utterly absurd. But he was still taken about by Harry's attitude, no one had ever talked to him that way, and it was a refreshing change. For once someone spoke what they thought of him, instead of trying to flatter him or treat him like some sort of god, but he still didn't know if he could trust Harry's story. "Well, you're here to explain, aren't you? Go on."

Harry looked at him slightly resentfully. The enticing, well-mannered seducer that had come into his life so suddenly yesterday, and stole his breath away had vanished, and been replaced by a rude, loud mouth, obnoxious, arrogant arse. There you go, Harry, ol' boy, fairy tales are a load of nonsense. Harry thought, as Draco watched him, not moving from his position.

As if he could see the wheels in Harry's brain turning, Draco sighed, and apologised, releasing his prisoner from his hold, "Look, I'm sorry. I was being a git, I admit it. I just don't like the press all that much, and I don't really know you, but I'm sorry I overreacted. Could we start again? And forget everything that just happened in the past 20 minutes?" Cheekily, Draco added, a smile starting to form, "Mind you, I'd rather not have either one of us forget the night we met." This caused Harry to go red all over again, and become painfully disappointed that all that heat that was in contact with every inch of him just a minute ago had left. "So, what do you say? Friends?" Draco supplied, winningly.

Friends… Harry thought, dubiously, Can we really be friends when I'm keeping secrets from him…? I also want to throw him down and…okay, not good to go there. "Well," Harry said, out loud, previous negative feelings temporarily forgotten, "I suppose we could try."

"Good. I'd like that." And a lot more, Draco thought, but he quickly pushed that thought from his head. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. "Now can you tell me how our little performance ended up all over the Prophet?"

"Colin Creevy was following the crowd that were after you last night, and it led him right to…us…And so…the rest is history…he's quite good with his camera unfortunately, seeing as how he's a photographer…yeah…" Harry muttered, embarrassed.

"And…how do you know him? Are you a journalist too?" Draco asked, suddenly suspicious, but remembered his promised about not overreacting, and jumping to conclusions.

"Er…well," Harry fumbled for the right words. Shit, shit shit, well done Harry, really, brilliant. "No, I'm not. I'm a writer, so we kinda work in similar circles." Harry lied, but Draco seemed to buy this.

"Anything I would have read?" Draco inquired, genuinely curious about his newfound friend.

Harry shook his head, actually believing that Draco would not have come across anything Harry's written using his mother's maiden name, Harry Evans, considering his dislike for journalists "Nah, probably not, I usually do freelance stuff. But I've heard your songs, and I really admire your work. If not for the fact that it's been a fairly crazy two days - well, nights more like – then I would totally be asking you for your autograph." Harry chuckled, glad he could change the subject so fast, but also still unable to fully grasp the fact that this whole thing was happening to him. Since when do ordinary people meet celebrities? And since when are even celebrities as hot as Draco is?

Draco shared a laugh, and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, steering him back into the pub, "Well, how about I buy you a drink, you tell me all about yourself, and I'll see about that autograph."

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"So," Draco asked, clutching two large Butterbeers for Harry and himself in one hand, and with his other free one, manoeuvring Harry to an empty seat, which was fairly easy, as there was only one other couple there at the bar at the time. "Can you sing?"

Harry giggled, shaking his head, ever the modest one, "Not at all, my singing is atrocious. You don't ever want to hear me sing." They both sat down, and Harry reached for his Butterbeer, but Draco held it out of reach.

"Now, you've gone and done it. You've spiked my curiousity. Sing for me, I wanna hear your voice." Draco encouraged, teasing Harry, not letting him have his Butterbeer.

Harry resigned himself to his doom, "All right, all right, but I want my drink." Draco passed it too him, but when Harry took it, he lingered his fingers there for a moment too long. Clearing his throat shyly, Harry said, "What do you want me to sing then?"

Draco looked at him alluringly, over the top of his beverage, and shrugged. Rolling his eyes, Harry picked the current number one song from Draco's best selling album, Breathing You In, called Bohemian Rhapsody. Glancing demurely out from under his eyelashes, Harry parted his lips slowly, and a wave of beautiful melody flew out.

Is this the real life?

Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide,

No escape from reality

Open your eyes

Look up to the skies and see,

I'm just a poor boy

I need no sympathy

Draco felt his jaw slacken and drop open. He didn't expect, actually he didn't know what he was expecting, but certainly not this. "Wow…" He breathed, as Harry came to a stop, "That was really good. I'd say being a writer is the wrong career path for you." Draco said this jokingly, but a part of him knew that he meant every word.

Harry grinned, embarrassed, but pleased nonetheless, "I tried to create a boy band once…unfortunately, I don't have much of a knack for writing music." He shrugged carelessly, "Oh well, it was quite some time ago."

Draco looked at him sceptically, "Considering how you lied about your singing abilities, I'm fairly certain you're doing the same about your talent as a lyricist." On the inside, Draco was secretly delighted, because he was already fairly dead set on making Harry his boyfriend. If not real, then fake. And if Draco was going to have his pick of boyfriends, he would rather have one who was hot, funny, nice and could sing. Besides, he needed one for the Prophet to gossip over, and eventually leave him alone. And he needed one soon. Lost in thought, a little voice of doubt made itself known in the back of his mind. He hasn't had a relationship in such a long time…what if it ends badly? Draco knew that he should stay away from Harry…self-preservation and all that rot, but the truth was Draco was afraid of the effect Harry had on him…it was too powerful…but Draco couldn't seem to stay away, and the selfish side of himself wanted to get to know the dark haired man more.

Harry blushed, charmed, unaware of Draco's inner turmoil, and sipped at his drink in silence. He was getting closer to becoming Draco's boyfriend, he was sure of it, he just wasn't sure if he could keep up the pretence, or carry on lying to Draco, or even if he could control his own emotions…he cannot allow himself to fall in love with Draco, that was for sure…although it was becoming more and more dangerous by the looks of things…and by the number of butterflies that had accumulated in the pits of his stomach. As Harry was in deep thought, Draco took the opportunity to check Harry out. Due to Hermione Granger, Harry was clad now in a pair of tight, low jeans, and a tan coloured sweater, looking like a runaway model. Draco caught sight of a bruise, and reached over to pull the neck of Harry's pullover down, startling Harry. There lay the mark Draco made on Harry's collar bone, and he looked upon his work with a sense of pride. Harry sat there; face pink, under Draco's scrutinising gaze as Draco nodded his satisfaction and approval of his handiwork.

Harry shuddered slightly with desire, a movement that didn't escape Draco's notice as he smirked and caressed the bruise. It was almost too easy.

As Draco grinned knowingly, Harry struggled to find something to talk about, to distract himself with, "So- so, why do you have such an aversion to the Prophet?" Draco drew back and looked at Harry, contemplating his response, "Well, it's not that I don't like it, in fact, I quite enjoy one journalist's writings. A man named Harry Evans." Harry took this remark in a stride, but on the inside he was astounded, but pleasantly so. Not only is Draco acquainted with his work, but more than that, he enjoys it. "But mostly I just don't like how there are a lot more important things, like accidents, and murders, and yet gossip about my personal life appears on the front page of the Prophet."

Harry viewed Draco seriously as he finished his little rant, he understood what Draco was saying, and felt guilty that his own line of work caused the frustration and annoyance that Draco had just displayed, and yet, Harry suspected that Draco wasn't telling him the absolute truth, maybe there was more to the story. Well, it was quite a personal question so Harry let it slide.

The afternoon passed this way, Draco and Harry firing off questions at each other, both going down whatever mental list they had. None of the other questions Harry asked caused him to suspect Draco wasn't telling the entire truth, and Harry filed it away for further use, telling himself that it was only because he had an article to write on the young singer, not because he was genuinely curious about Draco, and Harry himself answered as honestly as possible, although he tried harder to avoid work-related questions, and questions about his childhood relatives, perhaps that was a story for another time. When the sun had long fallen, Harry and Draco stood to make their leave. By this time, save for a couple of drunkards, the bar was completely empty. Teasing, and laughing, completely at ease with each other by now, Draco draped an arm around Harry and led him outside, but they haven't even taken five steps, when the bartender came rushing out of Hog's Head after them.

"Are you Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter?" The grey, balding bartender asked, waving the two envelopes in their faces, "I have two letters, one for a Draco Malfoy, and one for a Harry Potter?"

Draco and Harry looked at each other without the faintest idea what the letters could be in reference to. Using his free hand Draco took the letters, with a polite, "Yes, that's us." Before he handed Harry's letter to him. The bartender turned tiredly away and began walking back to his pub.

Both envelopes were blood red, with each of their names typed on the front. Opening the letters, Draco and Harry pulled out an identical piece of red paper, with four words printed on it.

Stay away from him.

Confused, and a little scared as the night had already seeped in, with the only real comfort coming from Draco's arm that was still around him, Harry held up his piece of paper, and showed it to Draco in the dim light. "D-did you get this too? How did they find you here?" Harry told himself that it was the cold that was making him shiver, hell, he'll be glad to say that it was because Draco was so close to him right now, and it was making his heart beat whirl, anything as opposed to having to confess himself frightened. In the journalism industry, Harry doesn't receive anonymous threats on a regular base, if at all. However, Draco's reaction was the exact opposite of Harry's, he showed Harry his note, with the exact words on it, and squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly, "Yes, but don't worry, I get this a lot, and after that article today in the Prophet, I'm not surprised you're getting them too, I'm sorry if it made you anxious. I don't know how they found me here, but I am quite a regular costumer so… It's not me being egotistical by the way," Draco added, not wanting Harry to get a wrong or bad impression of him, "it's just part of the business."

Slightly less afraid, Harry relaxed against Draco's torso. "Well, all right. I suppose I was just a little shocked to start getting threatening mail." Harry yawned cutely, blinking his eyes owlishly to try and clear the sleep from them.

Draco chuckled, "Come on Sleeping Beauty, let's get you home. I'll walk you there." Draco's arms slipped to Harry's lower back and rubbed him comfortably.

Twenty minutes later found them in front of Harry's apartment door, with Draco remarking innocently that he lived five minutes away from Harry, and his hand, less innocently, up the back of Harry's pullover. The feel of skin against skin caused Harry's flesh to grow goose bumps.

Harry's eyes were drooping softly by this time, and he just looked so angelic that Draco couldn't stop his mouth. "Well, today's been quite a lot like a date."

Harry blinked confused, "How come?" His mind had unfortunately turned themselves towards some inappropriate thoughts, awaking Harry entirely.

"Well, I paid for your drink, didn't I? And here I am at your door, aren't I? Dropping my Princess off." Draco grinned, pretending to be in thought, "Oh, and what happens at the end of a date again?" Draco smirked down at Harry, who was watching Draco with an air of nervous excitement.

"Oh right…" Draco murmured, leaning down and captured Harry in a kiss, their mouths fitting perfectly. Draco didn't try to grope Harry this time, acting like a perfect gentleman, save for the fact that he had slipped his tongue in Harry, and was exploring relentlessly. The feel of Harry against him took his breath away, and Draco almost felt like whimpering in need, but he pulled back before he decided to push Harry against the door and take him then and there. God, he wanted Harry bad. In a fit of possessiveness, Draco latched his mouth back onto Harry's neck, and sucked on the love bite he left last night, all the while thinking, mine…mine…mine…

For the second time in two days, Draco released his prey in a daze, almost moaning at the look on Harry's face. And for the second time in two days, Draco whispered goodnight, and slipped something into the back pocket of Harry's jeans, and left, using every ounce of his willpower to not run back to Harry.

Later that night when Harry lay on his bed, recounting that day's events, he fumbled around with his jeans to pull out what Draco had left him. It was a slip of paper with a phone number on it, and a note written elegantly next to it.

Call me.

P.S. Bring me a photo of you, would you, pet?

Draco had signed the note, and enclosed a picture of himself as the autograph he had promised Harry. Harry couldn't stop the blush blooming on his face but he also couldn't help thinking of the problems that lay ahead. He could persuade Draco to make Harry his phony boyfriend, but he can't have a happily ever after with someone fake…

Little did he know the problems he anticipated were only just the beginning.

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AN: Well? Let me know how that was. Too long? Too short? I know I say this every chapter, but review please!

And once again the song Harry sung is Bohemian Rhapsody which belongs to Queen.

Enjoy

Love, EmAngel