Disclaimer: Not Mine:

Author's Notes: When will Draco ever learn to keep his mouth shut??

Thanks for all the reviews. They make me smile. Cookies for the one who gives me the biggest smile this week. I need it. :)

Enjoy

jamie

The morning brought with it a troubled Draco. He'd spent most of the night tossing and turning; finding rest impossible while his chest swirled with the turmoil of the previous evening. No matter how many times he turned over his emotions and faced them bravely; he could not logically accept the fact that he might have, just possibly, fallen for Potter after all.

As he lay in his bed after Pippy had flung open the drapes to let in the morning sunlight, he debated whether or not he could face breakfast. And Potter. He sighed and rolled over to look directly at the sun shining in through the window in the impossible hope of blinding himself. Maybe then he'd be able to block the visions of an aroused, bleeding Potter from his memory. A Potter who, despite being the world's biggest prude when it came to having a healthy sexual appetite, had somehow managed to make Draco think that he might have had a point about taking his time about…things.

Taking the unprecedented step of trying to see things from Harry's point of view, Draco had to admit that if he'd found himself attracted to someone he'd previously thought he hated, he'd probably want to take things slow as well. Draco tried imagining what he'd feel like if he suddenly found himself attracted to Granger and almost choked. Perhaps Potter did have the right idea.

In any event, the only effect staring at the sun had on Draco was to make him continue to see it even after he blinked. Potter's eyes full of lust still shimmered in his memory, so he drew the covers over his head in an attempt to just shut the world out altogether. It wasn't every day that one realised all the fighting and attention-seeking between him and his nemesis had been one long – a decade long – session of foreplay.

For a moment, he wondered if he could blame Pansy for this latest state of affairs, seeing as she had been the one to bring up how good it would be to have Potter on his knees. The thought still made his cock twitch. But he realised, with a flash of unwelcomed maturity, he would have gone after Potter anyway. It seemed like it was fate; they'd always influenced each other's lives, why not in this as well?

When he'd fallen into bed last night, still completely sated by the contact he'd had with Potter – and they hadn't even undressed – he'd tried to work out just why he wanted Potter so much. He'd thought about his physical needs and accepted Potter was gorgeous to look at and that he had a quiet strength Draco adored in men; one where Draco just knew he'd be looked after and protected, physically.

When he'd tried to offset that by reminding himself that Potter was a self-righteous, arrogant prat who thought the world revolved around him, Draco had to disagree with himself when he admitted that since Potter had moved into the Manor, he'd been nothing but a gracious houseguest.

After several hours of warring with himself and arguing, his exhausted brain had given up and he'd drifted into a troubled sleep.

Somewhere during his fitful sleep, his heart had decided to turn his traitorous brain against him. They banded together and pinned a bloody great notice to Draco's forehead: 'I have a massive crush on the Boy Who Lived!' and left it there to be the first thing he thought about when he woke up.

Had he been obvious? Had everyone seen it and he'd been too blind, or too engrossed in his plans to notice his real motivations when it came to Potter?

It was embarrassing to think his mother might know him better than he knew himself. It was mortifying to think that his mother was better at picking a partner for him than he was. In fact, Draco decided, there was no way he was going to admit to his mother, or Pansy for that matter, that he could possibly like Potter more than he should. He just couldn't take their smug little 'I told you so' looks. Not yet. Maybe one day when he'd sorted things out with Potter – Harry – he'd be able to withstand their jibes. He groaned – it was possible that he'd be like some lovesick fool anyway and not even care what they said.

He stretched under the covers and slowly drew them down, deciding that hiding under the bedclothes wasn't going to solve anything; although he did wish that he could just stay there and relive that frantically intense exchange with Harry over and over. It had been so long since he'd felt that wanted – or wanton – that each second seemed indelibly etched into his head. Even now he felt his body reacting to merely the thought of kissing Harry like that again. He smiled, wondering how Harry's lip was faring this morning. Draco's own mouth felt sore and swollen; the skin on the inside of his lips rough and tender.

Draco spent several languorous minutes wondering how Harry's mouth on his skin would feel, imagining the sting of sharp bites alongside the gentle press of soft lips. Then he remembered that it might be a very long time, if ever, before he would experience that sensation.

His mood quickly evaporated at that thought and once more he furrowed his brow with worry. What was he to do now? He had no idea how to go about entering into a relationship. If he were to be honest with himself he'd admit he'd never wanted to be in one before. He'd only ever had his parents' relationship as a guide, and if they were 'typical' of people in a committed relationship then he'd remain single forever before he subjected himself to something like that.

His mother's soft eyes when she spoke about Lucius belied the true nature of what was between them. His mother had loved his father; who in return had been cruel, domineering and overbearing, finding fault with everything his family did. Draco had often wondered what it was she saw in a man like that but those questions only led to thoughts of what might happen behind closed doors and that was something a child should never think about in regards to parents.

In any event, Lucius was dead and his mother free to pursue affection elsewhere. The fact that until now she had remained isolated from the social world meant that Draco had yet to see how to function in a healthy relationship.

It was worrying, really, because given his and Harry's volatile past, Draco was bound to do something stupid to fuck it all up anyway. If he hadn't already, that was. As Draco dressed, he looked at himself hard in the mirror, forcing himself to meet his own tense eyes and agreed that if he were Harry, he'd not want to see Draco again, either.

But then Harry wasn't like Draco, and was likely to forgive him if he could make it clear that he was sincere.

Draco's hands stopped doing up the buttons on his shirt suddenly, a button barely half way through the hole. What if Pansy was right, though, and it was only the spell that had Harry liking him?

Couldn't be, he told himself. Harry's actions were of someone who didn't like Draco half the time, someone, as he'd taunted Harry last night, who he wanted to fuck as much as he wanted to kill. That was definitely not the same sort of emotion as the mindless devotion his fans and the public were showing him.

But what if it was? Potter was the only person in history to have survived the killing curse at all let alone more than once. He knew Harry could fight off an Imperius curse, so he was not susceptible to having his mind played with. Even with all the talent and power Harry had, there was a possibility this spell was so strong it could overpower Harry's own magic. What then if one day Harry found out about the spell making everyone love him, and left? What if he didn't and Harry loved him forever…?

No, if the spell worked that way, no one would be trying to kill him; Pansy and Blaise would also be trying to get into his bed and his mother – his mother would have thought twice about suggesting he and Harry made a good pair.

Immensely relieved, Draco continued dressing, only minor fragments of worry about the effects of the spell still in his mind. By the time he entered the cheery breakfast room, ready to eat, he'd pushed that worry to the back of his mind.

And replaced it with a bigger worry. What was he to do about Harry?

Draco sat at the table and, within seconds, Pippy appeared at his side with a plate of sausages and eggs and bacon. On a normal morning, he would serve him his freshly brewed coffee and hot toast. Draco looked up, eyebrow raised in question about his behaviour, to find the elf smiling at him.

'Pippy?'

'Yes, Master Draco? What can Pippy be doing for Master on this lovely morning?'

'You can explain the size of this breakfast for one thing.'

'Pippy is feeling that Master needs to sustain his energies if he is to be crashing into walls with Mister Harry Potter.'

Draco narrowed his eyes, feeling his cheeks heating up. 'And what do you know of crashing into the walls with Harry?'

Pippy gave Draco what he could only term as a smirk. Which completely shocked Draco, as he didn't think the elf had ever smirked before. Then Draco laughed; Pippy was a Malfoy house-elf after all.

Still, that did not explain the cheery and cheeky disposition this morning.

'Pippy is very happy that Mister Harry Potter is staying, Master Draco,' Pippy said.

'And that has manifested itself into feeding me a breakfast large enough to feed a small country?'

'Pippy is very happy that Mister Harry Potter is staying and is thinking you is needing to keep up your strength.'

'Very well. But don't let me catch you gossiping about crashing into walls with Harry. Understand?'

The elf looked suitably chastised, which wasn't very as Draco's voice had held more amusement than admonishment. He nodded. 'Yes, Master, Pippy understands and will obey.'

'Thank you, Pippy, that will be all now.'

The elf disappeared just as his mother entered the room, looking in such a state that Draco's mouth dropped open in shock. In her dishevelled finery from the previous evening, she still looked smashing; however, her normally perfectly-styled hair was hanging loose around her shoulders and she was carrying her evening shoes. It was the smug look in her eyes and the rosy bloom in her cheeks that made Draco gasp, though. He'd wanted his mother to become more social and find some company but he wasn't sure he was ready to handle what this meant.

'Mother! I do believe that is the very same outfit you wore to the dinner last night. Am I to understand that you are only now arriving home?'

'Draco, darling, I love you dearly, but please don't presume to pass judgement on me.'

She sat down opposite Draco, nodding to Pippy who had reappeared with Narcissa's favourite tea. 'Thank you, Pippy. I'll have…' She paused, thinking, and then she grinned. 'I'll have what Draco's having. Thank you.'

Draco was at a loss for words. Narcissa Malfoy had arrived home at eleven in the morning, after an obviously big night out, probably having sex with Hortin. Draco wanted to scrub his brains out for a moment; thinking about his mother having sex was not a pleasant pastime. What was he even supposed to say to her now? Warn her to be careful? Express horror at her behaviour?

'Mother…' he started, but she held up her hand.

After she sipped at her tea, she replaced the cup onto the saucer and looked up at Draco. 'After so many years I am finally socialising again. I've found someone I like and respect and I had a lovely night. Please don't spoil it for me.'

What could he do but nod and smile? She deserved to be happy after all. Just as he did.

'Will you allow me to tell you to be careful?'

She smiled. 'Of course. I would take that as a sign you cared about me.'

'I do, Mother. I love you and would hate for you to be hurt by someone… unscrupulous.'

'You think Hortin is a gold digger?' She laughed.

'He might well be,' Draco countered.

'He has his own money, Draco. Much as I appreciate your concern, I can look after myself. I did survive your f–' She stopped herself and coloured but refused to be drawn into what she had intended even when Draco prompted her for more.

'Still, I think it best if I have a chat with Hortin to ascertain just what his intentions are.'

'Whatever you think best,' she replied, but Draco knew she wasn't paying attention as her breakfast had arrived and apparently her appetite was more important than the worry Draco had for her.

Apart from the worry that she might be hurt, Draco was actually pleased that she had some male company. She'd lost contact with most of the family friends and acquaintances since the war – those that were still alive and not in Azkaban.

Thinking of old friends reminded him of the invitations he had extended last evening.

'Mother, I ran into Theo Nott last night and invited him to the party, along with a few other old schoolmates. I don't think any of them are in a position to pay the cost of a ticket but I'd appreciate it if you could accommodate them.'

'Of course, dear. How many do you think there will be?'

Draco shrugged. 'Maybe two or three? I'm not entirely sure. Theo decided to jump on me inappropriately and Harry appeared at exactly the wrong time so I'm afraid I didn't speak to Theo after that. In fact, in light of how things ended, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't show up at the party at all.'

'I'm surprised you still want to invite him if he behaved so badly.'

'The invitation wasn't for Theo alone, but also for the other Slytherins. I've recently become aware that I could make their lives easier by including them more in mine.'

Narcissa stopped eating for a moment and bestowed a smile on Draco that made his chest hurt. Draco knew his mother loved him and was proud of him but rarely did he see it shine so vividly in her eyes. 'Draco, that's…I'm very proud of you.'

Draco smiled, thinking that if showing concern and helping his old friends moved his mother to smile at him like that, maybe there was something in Harry's attitude towards others.

'Well I'm sure the caterers will cope with an extra few on the night.' She grinned as she sipped her tea. 'It seems that I am not the one who should be worried about protecting myself against the unwanted advances of suitors.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Laugh all you want but it was most embarrassing.'

'I'm sure it was,' she said, raising her eyebrow. 'I would venture a guess that it was the last thing you'd have wanted Harry to see.'

'Well, yes but–' He looked up at her and saw the teasing smile, 'Don't start thinking anything,' he warned. Though he couldn't help a self-conscious lifting of his chin, glad he'd decided not to tell his mother and Pansy anything. If she was already teasing him, Merlin knew what she'd do if she knew he was crushing on Harry. Best to leave that humiliation as long as he could.

'Speaking of Harry, where is he this morning?'

'No idea, I'm sure. I'm not his keeper. We had an argument last night and I haven't seen him since,' Draco replied in a sharper tone than he intended.

His mother merely raised an eyebrow and went back to eating her breakfast. Draco was pleased that she seemed to be happy, but he'd prefer not to think of what she'd been doing to work up such a healthy appetite.

He ate his own breakfast not even thinking about the irony of having also built up a healthy appetite from activities of the previous night.

It did make him wonder, though, why it was that the old people seemed to be having so much more sex than he was. Why was it that he was universally adored and yet he wasn't getting any sex at all? Why was Harry being such a girl about sex and wanting romance and a wedding before putting out, he wondered bitterly. Of course, he knew that Harry wasn't holding out for those things, but that didn't make the lack of sex any more palatable.

Draco still had no idea how to go about telling Harry that he agreed they should take things slower.

As Draco was finishing his breakfast, Pansy entered the room. He smiled and greeted her as she poured herself coffee and sat down.

'Have a good night last night, Pans?'

'Surprisingly, yes. Morning, Narcissa,' she said cheerily. 'Have you heard that Draco snagged Potter last night?'

Draco spluttered, glad he hadn't had a mouthful of coffee when she'd dropped that bombshell on the table. After a glance at his mother, who was looking just as shocked, he managed to say, 'What are you talking about?'

'Blaise told me you hared off after him when he disappeared after catching you and Theo snogging. He said that you were sure to finally succeed last night or there was never going to be any hope for you.' She grinned evilly at him and sipped her coffee. 'Seeing as you're in one piece and you have a delightful looking bruise on the side of your neck, I am going to assume that you…were successful.'

Draco's hand went involuntarily to the side of his neck before he remembered that Harry hadn't bitten his neck last night, as they had been too caught up in savaging each other's mouths to care about necks. He scowled. 'Cow,' he said, trying to regain his dignity by taking another mouthful of coffee. Unfortunately, it tasted bitter.

Pansy laughed delightedly. 'You'd think after all these years you'd know not to react to that one. Shows how out of practice you are, darling.'

Draco coloured, but lifted his chin. 'The plan is proceeding well, thank you.'

Pansy stopped laughing and gave Draco a calculating look. Then she nodded and returned to her coffee, chatting with Narcissa. From the look on his mother's face he hadn't heard that last of this; she was bound to try and stop him from his earlier plan.

'Where is Harry, anyway?' Pansy asked, but that was the last straw for Draco; he'd had a traumatic night, little sleep and the constant talk about Harry, and his own inability to stop thinking about Harry, had all taken its toll. He snapped.

"I have no idea where the bloody Golden Boy is, nor do I care. He's probably gone back to the ginger bits for all I know. For Merlin's sake, why is everything always about that bloody git?'

Which was, of course, perfect timing. Or not.

When he followed the pinched looks of Pansy and Narcissa, he saw a frowning Potter standing in the doorway, obviously having heard every word he'd said.