Disclaimer: Not Mine. :)

Notes: Originally written for aoifene's cancelled Seven Deadly Sins Angst collection. The prompt I chose was Envy. Thanks to aoifene, weasleywench and nocturnali for their unwavering support and encouragement. The title is a line from Dante's The Divine Comedy: Purgatory, Canto XIII. Translated by The Rev. H. F. Cary, M.A.

Hope you all enjoy this one. Many thanks for the lovely reviews.

Jamie

xxxx

Several hours later, Draco felt much safer and had calmed down significantly. Though the hour was late, the anxiety of the evening's events still simmered away in his stomach, prohibiting him from sleep, so he insisted on Pansy and Blaise keeping him company in the drawing room. With a decanter of rather expensive, aged brandy.

At least until Potter returned.

Draco had almost not let Potter leave to perform his duties, but Potter had been so concerned about him and fussed over him so much that in the end Draco had been glad to see him go. He wasn't a girl for Merlin's sake! His mother was much the same and he could never stand her fussing over him, either. Only when he was too sick to protest did he endure cosseting.

In any case, the Manor was safe and Potter was off sleuthing to find out more information.

'Well, I suppose you two are even now,' Blaise said, sliding his arm along the back of the couch.

'Who? What?' Draco knew he was feeling the effects of the brandy. When slightly tipsy he tended to speak in short sentences, the fewer words the better. He thought it made up for the fact that by the time he was completely sozzled he could talk anyone under the table and then some. Even if no one understood a word he said.

'You and Potter,' Blaise replied, tickling Draco's nape with his fingertips. It was nice, Draco decided, but he wasn't going to allow his fright and subsequent need for comfort to drive him into accepting Blaise back into his bed. 'You're even now. Remember? You stepped in front of a curse for him, and he saved your life tonight?'

'Right,' Draco agreed and drained his fourth brandy. 'Could have been a completely innocent dessert.' Poor bloke probably took off at seeing an enraged Potter charging at him. Draco thought that seemed a much more logical explanation than someone trying to kill him. What had he done to deserve that? Lived through the war? Been shoved in front of a curse, through no fault of his own? That hardly warranted revenge on this scale.

'You don't believe that any more than Potter does,' Blaise said, shifting closer and laying his hand around Draco's shoulder.

'Don't.' Draco turned and frowned at Blaise, feeling the echoes of that very word from earlier in the night when Potter used it. He shivered lightly.

'Don't what?'

'Arm. Move it.'

Blaise backed away, holding his hand up. 'Sorry, just offering some comfort. You look distressed.'

'You know as well as I do that he can't bear to be touched when he's like this, Blaise. You have to wait until he's rambling drunk and then he's as affectionate as a kitten and about as easy to get into bed as a Knockturn Alley whore.' Opposite them, Pansy rubbed her foot up the back of Blaise's calf. Her drawl spoke of several snifters of brandy, too and her words hinted that if Blaise behaved himself then he could find her in his bed, instead.

Blaise looked back at her, eyebrows raised, and Draco knew that both of them would spend the night in the guest wing, in Silenced rooms. Pansy was a screamer.

Draco sighed, hit by momentary jealousy. In one respect he should be happy. They'd managed to take his mind off the attack tonight, even though he was now trying desperately not to picture a naked Pansy's pale skin being covered by Blaise's rich, dark, silky flesh. All that did was make him more jealous that he'd be going to bed alone. As a result, he almost determined to drink himself into a stupor in order to forget about the whole evening, attack, loneliness and all.

Almost. Because Pansy was right, when he was completely sozzled, not only did he talk for minutes basically without drawing a breath, but he also was the most affectionate person he knew. With Blaise and Pansy tangled up in each other, the only other person in the house, besides his mother, was Potter.

And that was not happening. At least not while he was drunk. Too much information would slip if he were drunk around Potter. Seduction was best achieved sober. Mostly sober.

With a growl, he tossed his brandy balloon against the wall. The smashing glass stopped Pansy and Blaise's conversation. 'Where is Potter? He should be here now, protecting me!'

Potter's ears must have been burning, because he walked into the room at that point, behind Pippy, who carried another brandy balloon and more brandy.

Potter looked haggard and tired, the lines on his face accentuating the angry, worried look in his eyes.

'Sorry that took so long,' Potter said, grabbing the brandy and pouring himself some without waiting to be invited.

'Well?' Draco demanded.

Potter drained his brandy in one long swallow and then turned blinking eyes onto Draco. 'I was right,' he said, the alcohol making his voice husky. 'Poison. A slow-acting one. If you'd eaten that dessert, we might never have traced it back to that as the culprit.'

'Is there an antidote?'

Potter nodded. 'Of course; there always is, but it might not have mattered. By the time you'd realised you were poisoned, it would've been too late.'

The ridiculousness of that statement made Draco begin to chuckle. 'What's the point of an antidote, then?'

Potter gave him a weird look, and Blaise sighed and stood. 'Come on, you drunken sot. I'll put you to bed before you declare your undying love for Potter here and embarrass yourself.'

Ignoring the hand before him, Draco glared at Blaise. 'No! Not drunk enough yet.' Draco turned his gaze onto Potter. ''M serious. What's the point of an antidote?'

Shaking his head, Potter replied, 'For accidental poisoning.'

'Fine.' Draco sighed. Why hadn't he though of that?

'I also checked out the guest list from the restaurant. None of the staff remember who was at that table and the only bookings they had were for couples. Whoever was at that table, they weren't meant to be there.'

Of course. Draco had hardly expected anything different.

'Has anyone checked with the guests in person?' Blaise asked. Potter nodded but Draco was barely paying any attention to the conversation any more. He supposed at least his attacker was not a complete moron, but he wasn't sure if that impressed him or made him more afraid. One thing he did know was that the news called for another brandy.

He eyed Potter's brandy balloon, wondering if he could snatch it. Best not. 'Pippy. New glass.'

'Draco, I think you've had enough, darling,' Pansy whispered in his ear. 'You want to remember having Potter right where you want him, don't you?'

Draco nodded eagerly.

'Well, then stop drinking, or all of your effort will be wasted.'

Draco patted Pansy's cheek fondly and nodded distractedly once more.

'Potter, take me to bed,' Draco demanded imperiously. He heard a groan and felt an elbow in the ribs from Pansy. He gave her a scorching glare and rubbed his side.

'It's all right, Potter; I'll take care of him. You can come back in the morning.'

'Can't,' Potter replied. 'I've been assigned to stay with Draco exclusively.'

That cheered Draco considerably. 'Good! Well, take me to bed. I insist!'

He tried to stand, but only wobbled around. Perhaps the stress and anxiety of the evening was getting to him. That and the brandy.

'Draco…'

'Shut up, Blaise. Potter's prettier 'n you.'

Potter blushed.

''Sides, he protects me.' Draco felt the niggling reminder in the back of his head telling him he'd regret this in the morning, but he didn't really care. At least he wasn't rambling drunk or he'd be confessing everything. And here was a perfect, completely innocent, logical and reasonable excuse to get Potter to take him to bed.

"It's all right, Blaise; I'll put him to bed. I'd have to make sure he made it there in any case.'

'Potter, you sound tired,' Pansy said. 'Why don't you bunk down with Draco and we'll have a house-elf prepare the spare room for you tomorrow.'

At that moment, Draco could have kissed Pansy. He gave her a wink. 'Splendid idea,' he said, as if that settled everything.

Potter merely rolled his eyes and slung Draco's arm around his shoulder, wrapped an arm around Draco's waist and helped him to his bedroom.

…..

It was with no little disappointment that Draco woke the next morning, hung-over and bleary-eyed to see Potter asleep in the chair in the corner.

As Draco watched Potter, his first reaction was to blame him for his headache and the churning in his stomach. But, as he continued to watch, eyes trying desperately to bore a hole into Potter's brain to get him to wake up, he noticed a small tuft of hair moving in time with Potter's breathing. It was such an oddly human thing, that it softened Draco considerably.

He told himself that it was only because he didn't think he could move without throwing up that he let Potter sleep, instead of throwing a slipper at him to wake him up so Draco could demand some hangover potion.

Instead, he went back to sleep.

…..

'We might be able to obtain some information from the magical signature of the poison,' Potter said over a late breakfast the next day.

'I would certainly hope so.' Narcissa huffed. 'I'm not very happy about someone trying to kill my son, Mr Potter.'

'Nor am I, Mrs Malfoy,' Potter replied tersely.

Draco merely sat in his chair hugging his cup of coffee to his chest and wondering why in all the hells he still felt like death warmed up even though he'd taken a hangover potion, showered and changed into his comfortable pyjamas. Potter turned his gaze on him, and Draco wanted to slide under the table: he recalled with complete clarity – damn hangover cures anyway – exactly what he'd said to Potter the previous night.

It was stress and anxiety. Definitely.

He sniffed and sipped his coffee, ignoring that Potter continued to look at him for several more minutes. When it finally became too much, he scowled and looked up at Potter. 'What?' he snapped.

'Just remembering how close I ca– we came to losing you yesterday,' Potter replied softly. 'I'm glad Robards decided we're both easier to guard if we're together and assigned me to stay here with you. The Auror detail has been reinforced with other experienced Aurors as well, so you'll be quite safe. We both will be.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'I am safe in my own home, Potter.' At Potter's attempt to interrupt, Draco stopped him by continuing, ' But, I am grateful that you're here. You can make yourself useful.'

'By…?' Potter's face held an amused smirk.

'I'm sure I'll think of something,' Draco replied. 'And you'll accompany me every single time I go out. As my escort, not my guard - so you'll have to ensure another guard to do that job.'

'Already taken care of. And you'll not eat or drink anything not already checked by me personally for any poisons or curses. Understood?'

Draco didn't bother responding; it was as it should be. 'Have you asked Severus' portrait if he knows about the poison? He had the most prodigious poisons knowledge when he was alive. He might be able to tell you who made it, given that he taught most of the gifted potion makers still working.'

'Good idea, Draco,' Potter said, smiling. 'We'd not thought of that.'

'Of course not. Not only do I have to save you from a crazed killer but I have to find out who it was as well,' Draco replied. 'I'll be asking for remuneration, next.'

'They'd probably pay you if you wanted,' Potter joked back.

'Shut it, Potter,' Draco replied, tiredly. Why had he thought that having Potter around all the time would be a good idea? It was only the first day and the man was irritating to the extreme. He was too nice, too accommodating and altogether just so annoyingly… nice!

His frustration was interrupted by the arrival of a well-rested Pansy and Blaise. They greeted everyone and took empty places at the table.

'Good morning, Narcissa, Draco, Potter,' Pansy greeted them. She took a diary from her bag and ruffled through the pages.

'Good morning, Pansy, dear, and Blaise, too,' Narcissa replied, smiling knowingly at the two. 'You slept well, I trust?' Draco groaned. His mother always did know too much about what went on with his friends. He suspected that she was quite happy that Pansy cheated on her husband, seeing that he'd beaten Draco for her hand in marriage.

Pansy had no qualms about responding to Draco's mother with a broad smile and patting Blaise's leg as she nodded. Blaise settled for making an unidentifiable noise and then concentrated on filling his plate. Blaise was not a morning person.

'Draco, my love,' Pansy said. 'You have a wireless interview in an hour, so you might want to get ready for that.' She gave him a look up and down. 'Unless, that is, you are planning on wearing that. Though I must say, I don't think that's a good idea. Even though the public cannot see you, there will be photographers hanging around.'

'Wait. You're telling me that I have engagements today?' Draco complained. 'Pansy, I was almost killed last night!' He let the comment about his attire slide. Pansy wasn't stupid enough to think he'd leave the house in his sleepwear.

'All the more reason to continue life as normal,' Potter chimed in. 'If you alter your schedule, they think they've won by intimidating you to change your life.'

'They can win, for all I care! What's to stop someone hurling a hex at me while we're posing for these photographs?'

'Me.' The grin on Potter's face and certainty of his tone infuriated Draco. Potter had caused this whole mess in the first place. 'Have you seen the paper this morning?' Potter asked, holding it out. 'Or have you been too busy nursing that hangover and feeling sorry for yourself to notice?'

Gritting his teeth, Draco snatched the newspaper and scanned the headlines. It soon became obvious that the public was staunchly on his side. They were incensed that the same cowardly villain was now attacking the person who had saved their hero. Draco relaxed his jaw, gratified that he had so much support even though no one had mentioned that it might have been a different person altogether than the one who attacked Potter. The thought quickly followed that the support was appropriate, seeing as he was a hero himself now. And was quickly becoming a much-loved hero, too.

He didn't give any room to the notion that he had engineered this whole thing with his spell. That particular idea was packed away in the back of his mind, carefully covered by the rationalisation that he'd not needed the spell. Whoever had pushed him in front of the curse had done the spell's work for him.

Blaise took the paper and scanned it as well. 'No one would dare try anything out in public now, Draco; they'd be lynched by anyone who witnessed it.'

Draco smugly looked back at Potter. 'I barely need you now: I have the whole wizarding world concerned for my safety.'

'I'm glad, Draco, but I'm still not letting you out of my sight. It only takes one curse…'

'Yes, yes, I understand and I'm not so stupid as to do away with your services. You still owe me, Potter, and until this person is caught, you're stuck with me.'

'Draco, darling, you had better go and dress that lovely body or else your adoring public will be mobbing you for a completely different, albeit more enjoyable, reason than trying to end your life,' Pansy said, causing his mother to laugh.

While he was comforted by the fact that his mother was hiding her worry well, which meant that she felt he was safe enough, despite the events of the previous night, he still planned on keeping Potter close. And when he got over this hangover properly, that meant very close indeed.

….

Despite the attack, Draco's life became one long set of 'events'. On Valentine's Day he received several hundred cards and gifts. After checking for curses, hexes, love potions or any other form of magical enchantments, Draco opened many of them, wanting to see tangible evidence of how much he was loved by the wizarding public. Some showered him with flowers and expensive chocolates. The creepier cards included underwear. When Draco opened a card that contained a used pair of bloomers, he gave up in disgust and instructed the house-elves to open the rest and sort them.

There were radio interviews, more newspaper and magazine interviews, attendances at various functions and charity dinners. It seemed everyone wanted to speak to Draco and ask the most inane questions about his life: the Ball he was going to host, his favourite charity, his favourite fashion designer and even his nickname as a child.

There were stories printed by 'insiders' about his anonymous contributions to charities in the years after the war when his money was not socially acceptable. Then, both he and his mother had been frustrated and upset over the need for anonymity. Now, those donations made him out to be a true philanthropist, giving because it was needed rather than because it might earn them something in return. Now, they respected him and his mother both. And with his newfound freedom and his mother's reticence at leaving the Manor fast disappearing, he asked her to accompany him to several functions, along with Potter, of course, and she readily accepted.

His heart warmed to see his mother regaining some of her elegance and grace in public. Her beauty had a tenderness about it, now, developed through the years of being isolated. She was becoming, in public, every inch the gracious lady that he'd always known at home.

Despite Snape not being able to shed any light on who had made the poison, informing Potter that it may well have been imported from overseas, Draco was having the time of his life.

By far, his favourite events were those that he was required to 'dress' for. Those occasions had several rather fun aspects that catered to his vanity. Of course, it meant that he was able to appear in all the latest fashions from Paris. That alone was worth suffering the seemingly-endless fittings required for purchasing them. He'd tried to suggest that as they had his measurements, there should be no further need to measure, but Lemani insisted that because each of the fabrics fell a different way and the styles were all original, each garment must be fitted individually.

But the most surprising aspect of these functions was that Potter showed an inordinate amount of style and had obviously been tutored in how to behave at these upper-class events. The scruffy hair almost always had that just-shagged look these days. And Draco actually found quite it acceptably…attractive. The glasses remained; albeit they were clean, and Potter's robes, stunningly, were also Lemani.

Pansy always attended the functions with them, seeing as she was his manager, so to speak, and she whispered into his ear on more than one occasion that he and Potter looked so well matched, she expected any day to hear about Draco's triumphant seduction of the Golden boy.

Draco had to admit that he'd had less free time than he'd liked to have had in order to be successful in the seduction of Harry Potter. To be truly successful, one must have the time to present oneself in the best possible light. In private, preferably. Especially if the target considered themselves straight, and even more so if they were in a relationship with a ginger bint who still opened her legs for him on a regular basis. When Draco allowed Potter an hour or two free time that was. He wasn't heartless. Besides, he needed the occasional break from Potter, too.

Most evenings, by the time they arrived back at the Manor, all Draco wanted to do was fall into bed. And in the mornings, it started all over again. The situation was not without some small measure of success, however. Draco caught the smiles Potter gave; for the cameras or not, the sincerity behind them was real and he wondered if this was a quality Potter owned or had developed when he'd learned diplomacy in the years after the war. Either way, the looks encouraged Draco's mission.

He just needed a little nudge to set things moving along.

…..

On one of his rare free evenings at home, Draco and Potter sat in the lounge, having a quiet drink while his mother read some paperwork to do with the ball.

'Draco, we need to consider security for the ball.' She looked at him over the top of her reading glasses.

The sheaf of papers on the desk in front of her seemed to be growing every day; full of plans and ideas for catering, decorations, music, guests, seating arrangements, and the countless number of other things that went into organising the charity ball of the season. He was leaving the organisation of most of the minutiae in her capable hands and he thought she had not looked so alive and happy in many years - not since he'd been a child.

'Potter can organise that,' he replied, smiling at her and sending Potter a warm smile, too.

'I can,' Potter agreed. 'Although I think the Minster will have his own security.'

'Yes, his office alluded to that in their acceptance,' Narcissa agreed. 'I was thinking more for the rest of the guests. We have had acceptances from many other dignitaries, and I would hate for anything to happen to a guest while attending a function at the Manor. At least we have control over who the guests will be. I'm very glad you suggested invitations, Draco.'

'Not to worry, Mrs Malfoy; I'll ensure that we have plenty of Aurors on duty.'

'Thank you, Harry, dear. And you must call me Narcissa. You've been living here for weeks now: I think we can drop the formality.'

Draco sighed at his mother's casual acceptance of Potter being in the house and her treating him like a second son. He wanted nothing more than tolerance of Potter from his mother, as she was sure to become cross with him when he sent Potter packing when all this was done. But no, Potter had gone and charmed her like he seemed to charm everyone else.

Potter grinned at her; a grin that was also aimed at Draco. 'I'll relent and call you Narcissa when Draco calls me Harry.'

His mother looked between them, but Draco stared at Potter. Cheeky bastard, he groaned inwardly. His mother would expect manners from Draco now, knowing that her wish was for Harry to drop the formal address. He decided to make the best of it.

'Certainly, Harry, it will be my pleasure to address you so…intimately.' Potter shifted and lowered his gaze for a moment. But he recovered well and graced Draco with another of his dazzling smiles. The man was nothing if not resilient.

'Good, I'm glad that's settled,' Narcissa said, standing. 'I'll leave you two boys to your drinks and retire for the evening. Goodnight, boys.' She kissed Draco's forehead when he stood to say goodnight.

'Good night, Mother.'

'Good night, Narcissa.' Potter also stood and received a nod and a smile.

When she'd left the room, Draco turned to Potter again. 'You don't have any problems organising security I take it, Harry?'

'Of course not, Draco.' Potter's smile and the deliberate use of his first name felt like a challenge. One Draco was eager to take up.

'Good. As long as you spend the evening by my side, the others can guard the rest of the guests.'

A slight frown crossed Potter's face but when he didn't follow it up with another inane comment, Draco asked, 'What?'

The frown cleared and Potter shook his head. 'Nothing. No problem. I'm seeing Ron tomorrow for his birthday anyway; I'll put him in charge of security.'

'Weasley? You can't be serious?'

'Why not? He'd surprise you with how good he is at planning this strategy stuff out. He has an analytical mind, apparently. Can beat almost anyone at wizard chess.'

Draco was not convinced Weasel could strategise himself out of a paper bag if his life depended on it, but it was interesting about the chess skills. Surprising enough that Draco agreed to accept Potter's word. But that raised another question.

'You're seeing Weasel tomorrow? We have no plans for that.'

'I know. It's his birthday and there's a family gathering at the Burrow to celebrate.'

'But you're stuck here with me until your lot catch whoever is attacking me - us.' Draco frowned. He was not prepared to let Potter out of his reach for any length of time.

'I've had time off before, Draco.'

'Not a whole night. I've been very accommodating letting you go and have your conjugal visits with the ginger bits, but I draw the line at a whole night.'

'It's one night, Draco. I've been working here and living with you for weeks. I've not seen my friends in that long. I've been with you or in public the whole time. I need some private time with them.'

'I don't care!' Draco was indignant. 'Your duty is to stay here and protect me, Potter.'

'You're completely safe in your own home, Draco!'

Potter looked and sounded like he was becoming as angry as Draco felt. This could not possibly be happening. Draco felt he was making progress in his seduction mission. He was not about to lose that advantage over a mere Weasley's birthday party.

'That is entirely beside the point, Potter. You owe me and you said that whatever it took you would make sure I was safe.'

'You are bloody safe, you moron.'

Draco stalked over and sneered right up close into Potter's face. 'You're calling me, the person who jumped in front of a curse for you, a moron?' Draco shook his head. 'Oh, right, I am a complete moron for doing that. I should have let you take your fucking chances with the curse, Potter. Ungrateful sod!'

"I'll leave you double the guard, Malfoy. You'll be just as safe as if I were here. Why are you being such an arse about this?'

'I don't give a shit about the number of guards. I'm expecting you to stand by your word. That's all.'

Draco saw the flicker of guilt in Potter's eyes. And he could also see the pale skin of Potter's scalp when Potter ran his fingers through his messy hair in frustration. Draco smirked. He wasn't about to interrupt Potter's thought processes.

'Why does it have to be me? Why can't I have one night off?'

The tone in Potter's voice was almost resigned now.

'Because I said so.'

Potter's eyes narrowed. 'You're just doing this to be an arse, aren't you? You're taking advantage of my debt to you, for your own benefit, aren't you?'

'Of course not.'

'Then I'm going tomorrow night. Unless you can give me a valid reason why I can't.' Potter was in Draco's face, challenging him with every word. Draco inhaled deeply and caught the aroma of Potter's last drink.

This felt familiar; not the genial, affable Potter of recent weeks, this was the Potter that stirred him up, churned his stomach into knots. Draco's nostrils flared as he took in the flashing, defiant depths of Potter's eyes. A sudden jolt of electricity hit the nerve endings that led straight to his groin, leaving Draco's heart racing at the throbbing, almost painful arousal. The famous scar was a faded white line in Potter's flushed face and Draco wanted to bite it and make it as red and angry-looking as the rest of Potter.

Shocked, he blinked and realised he should just turn away, but a flash of victory in Potter's eyes when Draco didn't have an answer for him, broke Draco's self control. He growled softly as he took Potter's face in his hands and kissed him soundly.

Draco was almost as shocked as Potter appeared to be. He hadn't meant to snog Potter just yet, and certainly not in the middle of an argument, but, really, he thought to himself as he pulled back, it was perfect timing.

'That's why,' he said.

Draco bit back a laugh at the incredulous look on Potter's face. Then Potter flushed a deeper red and yelled, 'I'll be back day after tomorrow,' over his shoulder as he stormed out of the room.

While it hadn't gone quite according to plan, and Draco was more than a little annoyed at Potter for storming out, there had been one small glimpse of hope.

Harry Potter had kissed him back. Just for a moment, but it had been there.