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.

Thanks to all of you for the reviews, I do love each and every one of them. And trust me when I say that it will all work out in the end.

Enjoy this chapter!

jamie

xxxx

When the issue of Witch Weekly was released two days later, with Draco's picture on the front cover and several more inside, Draco was more than pleased. Phillippe had done an amazing job, and Draco looked stunning. The editor called Draco to let him know it was the first time in history that their whole print run had sold out within hours of being on the stands. Draco accepted their praise and thanks graciously, knowing that the crowds at his public appearances would be greater and less controllable in the future.

Indeed, when Draco next left the Manor to attend the opening of a new wizard cinema, people waited six or seven deep along the streets near the theatre, many of them waving copies of the newspaper and a quill. Thankfully, he had no time to stop and 'greet the feet' as his security team called Draco's fans. On days when he had the time, people would line up for hours, waiting while Draco signed copies of old newspapers, articles of clothing, arms, and even one very lickable chest. Many requested that he pose for pictures with them and Draco always smiled and allowed it.

Meeting his fans was something Draco both loved and hated. He hated it because, while he never tired of hearing how much his fans loved him, some of them weren't very sanitary and after hours of being manhandled, he often had Pippy destroy his clothing rather than laundering them. Who knew what diseases he could pick up from them?

On the other hand, Draco loved it because they loved him. When his barely-acknowledged doubts simmered away under the surface, the adulation gave him confidence and reminded him that he was loved. It was a terrific ego boost. He asked his Auror team to obtain the names of some of the fans who seemed to follow him around. He thought one day he might make an effort to reward their devotion by stopping to chat with them, or something.

If they weren't too weird. Some of his fans had taken to dressing like him, dying their hair like his and doing very bad impressions of him sneering at everyone. Most of them seemed harmless, but some were just plain creepy.

However, sitting in the cinema watching a forgettable action-adventure premiere that starred several well-known wizard actors projected onto a twenty-foot screen, he forgot about creepy fans and wondered instead who would play him if someone made a movie of his life?

'He'd never get away with that if he were an Auror.' Potter had said this three times now.

'I bet you would, though.' Draco smirked at Potter's snort and leaned closer. 'The Golden Boy gets away with everything.'

Potter faced him, and it surprised Draco that even here in the dark cinema, he could see anger flashing in Potter's eyes, working like a match to the dry tinder of Draco's desire. Feeling the throb of arousal, Draco bit his lip, not breaking eye contact. He didn't dare say anything or move in case Potter got up and left, or worse relinquished the emotion to amusement. The best Draco could hope for was to prolong the moment by refusing to back down.

As the movie flickered and lights stuttered across Potter's face, Draco almost held his breath over the racing of his heart. He wondered if he could make Potter act on the desire that was becoming increasingly obvious in his eyes, make him just shove Draco against the wall and take what he wanted.

'I don't know why I bother with you,' Potter whispered.

Draco replied candidly and honestly; traits he was unused to employing with Potter. 'You bother with me because I'm not easy. Since the end of the war, everything has come easy to you; there aren't any challenges left for you anymore. But you have to work hard to understand me. I intrigue you and excite you, and you don't know why.' Draco smiled slightly. 'You tell yourself you're straight, but you want me, despite having a girlfriend.'

Potter's eyes never left Draco's. 'And what if I agree with you?'

Draco leaned forward until he could almost feel Potter's lips on his own. 'Then I'd say that you can have me, but I'll always be hard work. It's not in my nature to make life easy–'

Raucous laughter from the audience tore them apart, Potter looking away first and shifting in his seat. Draco wondered if Potter was as affected by the exchange, too. It wasn't the first time Draco had been and though that was a concern in itself, what really gave him pause for thought was the honesty with which he'd spoken. Certainly, he'd told Potter the truth as he knew it.

He'd always known Potter had a love for the dramatic; everything about Potter was larger than life and yet his love life looked like he'd chosen a pale imitation of what his personality really needed. He'd chosen the predictable option, and it had turned into a pedestrian rut.

He wondered about that; wondered if Potter found something in his life to make him wear that passion in his eyes all the time, could Draco fall for him for real?

Draco glanced at Potter, who now watched the movie once more. The man wore a frown and his lips were pressed tightly together. Potter turned and caught Draco watching him. His expression softened and he gave Draco a smile. Draco exhaled softly and shook his head, amused. He elbowed Potter. 'Give me some of that popcorn before you eat it all, you Neanderthal.'

Potter laughed and handed the box over. Draco smiled and sat through the rest of the show, nibbling on the popcorn thoughtfully.

….

Planning his speech for the AV dinner gave Draco several hours of grief. He found it hard to know what to speak about. He'd been on the wrong side of the war, after all; how was he supposed to speak about fighting the good fight and how he'd known all along that Potter would defeat the Dark Lord and save them all?

That left topics about life after the war, and Draco was fairly sure that people did not want to hear, nor be reminded of, the times when they'd spat in Draco's face, or refused him service. For a time he thought to throw it back in their hypocritical faces, make them feel small about the treatment handed out to those who'd had the bad fortune to find themselves under the Dark Lord's thrall. It would be a lovely revenge, but the spell he'd cast deflecting their love for Potter to him already showed their hypocrisy in a much harsher light.

Potter had wanted to know what topic he'd chosen, but as Draco had little to no idea, he claimed that he wanted it to be a surprise and refused to show anyone. He wondered later if he should have just asked Potter what he normally said, seeing as the Golden Boy was always asked to give a speech. However, Draco's pride wouldn't let him admit that maybe Potter knew more about some things than he did.

Instead, he holed up in his room two nights before the dinner, frantically wracking his brain to come up with a solution.

He was startled as his door opened unexpectedly and his mother entered.

'Mother! How did you get past my wards?' he asked.

'There's not a ward in this house that I cannot get past, Draco,' she replied coolly, raising her eyebrow at him. 'I am mistress of the Manor, after all.'

'Forgive me; of course.' Draco nodded. 'To what do I owe this visit?'

'I wanted to speak with you about Harry.' Her expression gave very little away other than mild concern.

'Potter? What about him?'

'Do you mind if we sit? I fear this will take a while.'

'Of course.' Draco led her to the chaise under the window and sat beside her. 'Has he said or done anything to insult you? If he has–'

'No, no, Draco. He's the perfect gentleman. You know that as well as I do. In fact, that's why I wanted to speak with you.'

Draco raised an eyebrow.

'I see what you're doing, Draco. Your flirting is making it hard for him to do his job, and I think you're affecting his personal situation with Miss Weasley.'

'But I am quite serious about flirting with him, Mother.'

'I can see that.' Her tone suggested that she knew exactly what Draco was doing. He sighed internally; he'd never been good at hiding things from her in the past and he didn't think he'd learned how to in recent times. 'You still don't particularly like him though, do you?'

'Not especially, no,' Draco replied carefully. Although there were times when that assertion was beginning to sound extremely hollow.

'So why the flirting? To hurt him deliberately?'

'Something like that.'

Her piercing gaze made uncomfortable as though she could see right through him. Disappointing his mother in any way always made him feel awful.

'I'm not going to tell you how to live your life, Merlin knows your father did that enough for the both of us when he was alive, but have you really thought this out?'

'I have,' Draco replied. 'It's just a bit of fun: no serious damage will be done.'

The look his mother gave him carried her love for him alongside the worry. 'I see the way he looks at you. Over the months he's been here, he's changed the way he sees you. And you –'

'Mother–'

'Don't interrupt me,' she said. ' I've never seen you happier than when the two of you are arguing over some detail. And you hate it when anyone takes his attention away from you. Pansy tells me that those pictures for the Most Charming Smile Award were taken while you and Harry were chatting. You looked so happy in those pictures, Draco; I want you to want that for real.'

'What do you mean, for real?'

'You smile at him like he's everything you could possibly want. What's wrong with that?'

Draco spluttered. 'It's Potter!'

'And I think he'd be a good match for you.'

'You can't be serious?'

After several moments, she sighed. 'Very well. Forgive me for even bringing the matter up. I can see that you still consider him to be an enemy. I'm disappointed, Draco, I thought you'd grown past such childishness.'

'I can assure you, Mother, that I am grown past such childishness, as you put it, but that doesn't lead directly to Potter and I being a good match.' Draco hated the sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of disappointing his mother, but surely she could see how impossible a relationship with Potter was?

He closed his eyes as she kissed his forehead. Her gentle lips against his skin reminded him of the moments in his childhood when she'd been there to comfort him. 'Be that as it may, my love, I am only telling you what I see, and I see you happier when he's around than when he is not.'

Draco's voice almost caught in his throat because he knew that couldn't be true. 'I am happy because I know he'll protect us, and that you're safe with him here.'

'I was safe here in the Manor before he came,' she whispered. 'Goodnight, Draco.'

'Good night, Mother.'

Draco opened his eyes as she stood and walked towards the door. He called after her, 'You can't make me like him.' He was aware that he was being childish. It was one thing to be brought to task over Potter by Pansy, but quite another thing to be admonished by his own mother.

She turned and smiled at him. 'I agree. It's not like your heart has a choice about whom you love. Falling for your father taught me that. Just don't discount the possibility; that's all I ask.'

He couldn't answer her. Contradicting her would have been lying, something he couldn't do deliberately. Not to her.

She remained silent, patient. 'What you're doing to Harry is very regressive, Draco. You're letting your past affect your future, not learning from those hard times we faced. Now that we're free from the Dark Lord, our vision must be to look forward. You need to let go of that animosity before it does some real damage to the rest of your life.'

He nodded, though he couldn't meet her eyes. Still certain that he felt nothing for Potter - nor could he ever - it felt like lying to her. And that left a bad taste in his mouth.

She had solved one problem for him, though. His key-note speech would be about learning the hard lessons of the past in order to live well in the future.

…..

'Po-Harry, why are you pacing my living room like you are stuck in tracks in the carpet?' Draco asked.

Potter did look rather dashing, Draco had to admit. Along with the black dress robes he'd chosen to wear to the AV dinner, Potter looked like he'd chewed his bottom lip all afternoon, as it was red and swollen looking. Draco wanted to capture it between his own teeth and worry it a bit more…

'I'm nervous; that's all.'

'I would have thought you'd be used to speech-giving after all these years.'

'No, it's not about the speech.' Potter ran a hand through his partially-tamed hair, ensuring that it stuck out all over the place again.

Draco sighed and grabbed his arm. 'Stand still, you idiot. Let me fix your hair for you. I'm sure no one at the dinner wants to see you looking like you've stuck your hand in one of those Muggle elkletric sockets.'

Potter stopped and his face relaxed into a smile. Then he chuckled as Draco slid his fingers through the mess, trying to return it to its earlier just-shagged look. 'It's called electricity, and if I'd stuck my finger in the socket, I'd probably be in a lot worse condition than just spiky hair.'

'Whatever.' Draco shrugged and refused to acknowledge that Potter's hair was silky soft. 'My ignorance made you stop and smile, though, didn't it?'

'Thanks for that,' Potter said, remaining still to let Draco card his fingers through his hair.

'Now, what's you nervous? You're making me anxious and I can't afford to make a mistake during my speech, you know. This is the most important speech –'

'I know; I'm sorry.'

'Well, what is it, then?' Draco stopped fixing Potter's hair but left his hands resting on Potter's shoulders.

'Everyone will be there, tonight.'

'And why is that a problem? You should feel right at home being with people you know.'

Potter's eyes closed for a second and when he opened them again and caught Draco's, they were filled with anguish. 'Ginny's said she doesn't want to see me anymore.'

It was the first time Potter had actually mentioned breaking up with the ginger bits. Draco had overheard the conversation between Potter and the Mudblood, but Potter had never admitted it aloud to Draco. Draco was satisfied and happy that it had happened, but he was uneasy over the obvious pain in Potter's eyes. Not that he was concerned about Potter's mental anguish over the ginger bits. Of course he wasn't. Potter was better off without her.

'I see. And she will be there tonight?'

"Of course she will. And not only Ginny, but the whole Weasley family, along with Hermione and various other friends. It's going to be uncomfortable that I'm with you.'

'But you've been directed to stay with me by your boss. You're just doing your job, surely?'

Potter sighed. 'She'd been after me for weeks to get Robards to assign someone else to your case to give me some time off.'

'So why didn't you?' Draco knew part, if not most, of the reason was that he'd refused to let Potter out of his sight, insisting that Potter be the one to guard him. The situation had only worsened for the ginger bits when Potter had been required to stay at the Manor. But he did wonder what Potter's reasons were.

'Several reasons.' Potter stepped back, and Draco's arms dropped back to his sides. 'At first, I was just really grateful for what you'd done; then you seemed to need me to stay, especially after the poisoned dessert.' Potter shrugged.

'Nothing to do with me wanting you, then?'

Potter rolled his eyes. 'I thought we were being serious here.'

Draco narrowed his eyes. 'I was being serious.'

'Fine, fine, whatever.' Potter began his pacing again. Draco swallowed his irritation.

'Harry, stop pacing and continue with what you were saying.'

Potter glared at Draco, but he did stop pacing. 'And then I had people left, right and centre telling me what I should do. Ginny telling me I should put her above everything, above my job, above…' Potter paused and inhaled deeply. 'I've never knowingly used my name to get something I wanted. I'm well aware that I could probably receive special treatment just by asking for it, so I don't. I want to be treated the same as anyone else, but Ginny began to insist that I use my influence to get what she wanted.'

Draco bit his lip. The retort that Potter was a waste of a hero sat on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't bring himself to insult the Golden boy when his hands clenching and unclenching made it so obvious he was working himself up into a rant.

The kind of rant that made Draco's balls ache.

'And what do you want?' Draco finally said.

'I want…I want…'

Intense green eyes met Draco's own. He held his breath, waiting for Potter's restraint to shatter, waiting to be shoved Draco against the wall and just taken.

But it never came. Draco saw the second Potter backed away from taking what he wanted. Brave Gryffindor, my arse, Draco growled to himself as Potter's eyes drifted away and to the floor. His hand shot out and grabbed Potter's flashy robes where they met across his chest. He clenched his fist dragged Potter closer, snarling into his face.

'Why don't you take what we both know you want?' Several faint freckles littered Potter's nose. Under his clenched fist, Draco could feel Potter's heart beating erratically.

Potter's hand wound its way into Draco's hair, and Draco gasped. Potter tugged, wrenching Draco's face level with his. 'Because I don't want to want you, Draco,' Potter whispered harshly, eyes boring into Draco's like drills of fire. Draco was barely able to catch his breath as his whole body sung with the thrill of being this close to the intensity in Potter's eyes.

He was on the verge of wrenching out of Potter's grasp of his hair and attacking those pink, chewed lips, when he heard voices approaching the room. 'This isn't finished; we'll discuss this later,' he hissed.

Potter released Draco's hair and stepped back, collecting himself, taking several deep breaths. Draco continued, 'We'll face the crowd tonight, together, Harry. If they want to make your evening uncomfortable by ignoring you, or worse, insulting me, then they'll be the ones who look immature.' Draco straightened Potter's robe for him. 'We are going to behave with complete dignity and decorum at all times.'

Potter nodded, calmer now. 'I will have to speak with them at some point, but, you're right.'

'Of course I am, Harry.'

Potter smiled. 'You had better not leave the house looking like that, though, or they'll wonder just exactly what it is we get up to.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, let's just say I am not the only one who looks like they stuck their hand in an electric socket.'

'Imbecile.' Draco groaned and headed to a mirror above the hearth and fixed his hair back into its original style, feeling rather pleased at how his body still thrummed with excitement. He was even more pleased that he'd managed to align himself and Potter on the same side – against the Weasleys.

With some ingenious planning and clever manipulation, Draco thought he might be able to stage manage their first real kiss, under the spotlight on the dance floor, right in front of the whole of the wizarding world.