They did a bit more walking in the afternoon, with frequent stops to let their Auntie rest her feet. It was the middle of the week so the area wasn't as mobbed with tourists as it could have been, but the clear late summer weather had brought locals out en masse. Narcissa and Lucius clung to each other, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people around them. Gliese was radiant, head over heels in love with the muggle city already, but Harry suspected she was an easy win.

Draco, on the other hand, was hard to read. His sunglasses were back on his face and he stood a bit apart from his family with a perfectly smooth, stony expression. He wasn't sneering at mudbloods, which Harry would have expected, but he had neatly contained the unshielded amazement he had shown on the ferris wheel.

As evening set in Harry offered a selection of dining options in the area. Many of the nearby restaurants on Dean's list offered a lovely view of the Thames, as well as other popular sights. But the senior Malfoys were at the end of their tolerance for noise and with just a bit of bickering everyone decided it would be best to head back to Grimmauld Place. Harry hailed a taxi and they piled in, already practically experts at hired motorcar travel.

"There are several nice restaurants within walking distance of the house," Harry mentioned. His stomach was telling him that he wanted dining arrangements settled soon. "And of course we can do take-away," he added with a smile. "A time-honoured muggle tradition.

"We could bring it back to the house?" Narcissa asked weakly. "Yes, please. No more walking. I don't know how anyone can survive a whole day in a city this size."

"You get used to it," Harry assured her.

"Can we get pizza?" Draco asked suddenly.

"Is that what you want?" Harry was surprised.

"Was it that good, darling?" Gliese asked. "Then lets do that. We'll all try it."

It wasn't the high-brow supper Harry had imagined but it was their choice. They debated toppings, with several misunderstandings about the availability of exotic items. "No, they'll not have any hippogriff meat," Harry hoped the driver wasn't listening.

They climbed out of the taxi and Harry pulled his mobile out of his pocket to call in the pizza order. Since the house was hidden from the public by a highly effective Fidelius Charm, delivery was not an option. He would have to go out and pick it up himself. Although when he thought of it, he rather liked the idea of a few minutes to himself if he could get his guests settled comfortably first.

"Is he talking to us?" Gliese murmured as Harry spoke into his phone.

"He's talking to that little box," Narcissa pointed. They crowded together with Lucius and peered at him curiously as he placed his order. Draco stood a bit apart from them, his body language showing his attentiveness, but his face pointedly averted. He still wore the green Wayfarers so Harry couldn't see his eyes.

"Well that's terribly confusing," Gliese said. "How do muggles know when someone is talking to them or talking to a tiny box?"

"Mobile phone," Draco said. "That's what he said it's called."

"Thank you," Harry disconnected and pocketed his phone. "It will be ready in about forty minutes. shall we?" he gestured to the house.

It was the riskiest part of the P&T business plan. Twelve Grimmauld Place was highly secured from outsiders. The Fidelius Charm meant no one could find it, magical or muggle, unless the secret keeper revealed it. Which meant every guest who came through its doors became privy to its secret. Harry hadn't worried too much about it before, but now that he was revealing it to the Malfoys, those sodding Death Eater Malfoys, he wondered if it was such a good idea.

But he had to believe they had changed. They had been acquitted, after all, and Harry had had a hand in their acquittal when he had testified on Narcissa's behalf at their trial. But acquitted didn't mean innocent, and he had his doubts about Lucius' ability to turn his life around. Draco was probably young enough that there was still hope, but he hadn't seen enough of him to quell his worry about revealing the house's secret location. Nothing to be done for it, though. They knew now, and there was no turning back.

The guests were clearly relieved to be out of the clamour of the city as they climbed the stairs with fatigue-rounded shoulders. Harry brought their luggage up to the second floor and placed the bags outside of each bedroom. He re-checked the restroom to make sure it was properly stocked and descended to the drawing room.

"Please make yourselves at home," he said. "Your bedrooms are up on the next floor, please feel free to choose whichever one you prefer. I will be back with supper in about a half hour." He crossed the room and turned on the telly, then handed Draco the remote control. "This arrow changes the channel, and these make it louder and quieter." Draco furrowed his brow at the small black device as his family stared in bewilderment at the moving images on the screen. Harry opened the liquor cabinet and headed out to pick up supper.

Once outside he thought he might as well use his half hour well and Disapparated straight away. It was not quite seven o'clock. which meant The Magic Hat was still relatively slow, but he thought he might have a quick drink before plunging back into customer service. There was no one manning the tap, so he looked around to see who was working. Across the dance floor he saw Colin wiping down tables near the DJ booth.

"Harry!" Colin looked up and threw his arms out wide. His lovely, strong, sculpted, tattooed arms that Harry loved so much. He felt his heart swell and he let himself be folded into the other man's embrace. Then, to his surprise, Colin kissed him. Not a quick, friendship peck, but a soft relationship type kiss. Harry's heart swelled again.

"What brings you in so early?" Colin left his arms around Harry's waist, further inflating his already dangerously ballooned heart.

"I've got a group in town for the next few days," Harry said, his hands lightly resting on Colin's remarkable biceps. "They wanted pizza tonight so I thought I'd stop in before it's ready for pickup."

"Fancy a quick pint, then?" Colin's eyes sparkled. "Or a quick shag?"

"Well," Harry's face flushed. "I don't think I have time for that. Maybe next weekend?" his voice raised hopefully. Too hopefully.

"Come in next weekend and we'll see," Colin smiled warmly and released him from his grip. Harry tried not to be disappointed.

"How about Saturday?" Harry insisted. "Let me take you out."

"Harry," Colin cocked his head tolerantly. "We've been through this. I'd rather just keep it open, play it by ear."

"Right," the air let out of Harry's heart, and if it had been a real balloon it probably would have made a rude, flatulent sound as it did so. He had fallen for it again.

"I really mean it about the shag, though," Colin lowered his voice and put on his most winning smile.

Harry thought hard. He was right, they'd been through this before. How many times had they hooked up for a quick shag, only for Harry to get his hopes up that it would bring them closer to something like a relationship? But it never did. Colin wanted to be free, to see whomever, whenever, and being with Harry and only Harry was not an option he was willing to consider. If Harry wanted him, he would have to share him, and he would have to be comfortable knowing that he could never be sure when or if it would happen again.

It wasn't what he wanted.

A few weeks ago he had come to the epiphany that he couldn't keep holding out hope that Colin would come to his senses. And that hooking up with him only made him miserable in the aftermath. He had tried to stay away, but The Magic Hat was the only place he knew where he could be comfortable and open and not feel like he had to hide his preferences. Obviously there were other gay pubs around, but this was the only one he knew. And Colin worked here. And that meant keeping his commitment to stay away from Colin was somewhat more difficult.

At this point he suspected his feelings for Collin had more to do with the fact that he was unattainable, and that he had been his first, but so far no one else had captivated his attention in the same way. Colin was the one who got away. Except he wasn't away, he was always here, and Harry had to either give up the pub or find someone new. So far neither option had panned out. So even though he knew it was bad for him he kept coming around, getting his hopes up, and getting shot down. It had to stop.

"I can't," Harry said sadly, ducking his head and rubbing his neck self-consciously. "You know what I want, Colin. I don't think it's right for us to hook up when we want different things." He was proud of himself for saying the words, but inside he was seething with rage at himself for sticking to his convictions.

"You're only nineteen," Colin said. "You can't possibly want to settle down yet."

Harry held his ground, although not without difficulty.

"All right," Colin looked regretful. He tried to catch Harry's eyes but finally gave up. "I hope to see you around," he said hopefully. "I'm still your friend. Don't be a stranger."

"I won't," Harry tried to smile bravely. "I think I'll skip that pint, though. I'll see you around sometime."

"Okay," Colin gave Harry's ear a quick caress and went back to his work. Harry left straight away without giving himself a chance to reconsider.

He paused in the alley for a moment to fume and rant silently at the injustice of it all. He gave himself a chance to settle his raw nerves before Apparating, just to be sure he wouldn't splinch himself. He arrived at the pizza parlor a few minutes early, and was relieved to find his order coming out of the oven right at that moment. He wanted to head home so he could distract himself from his woe. He paid up, found a nearby alley and Disapparated for Grimmauld Place.

He pushed open the front door with his hip, hands occupied with three large boxes of pizza. Draco was just coming down the stairs with a look of annoyance on his face. Harry could hear the telly was still on, the volume cranked up to an unreasonable volume.

"Should it be that loud?" Harry asked, concerned that they couldn't figure out how to control the remote.

"They wouldn't stop talking over it so I turned it up until they couldn't anymore," Draco said bluntly. "Is that the pizza?"

"It is," Harry said. He used his foot to slide open the dining room doors and laid the boxes out along the long table. "It will take me just a moment to set up."

Draco followed him down into the kitchen and looked around with tightly pressed lips. "My father asked me to see if there's a 'proper wine cellar in this muggle death-trap,'" he dropped his voice in a startlingly accurate parody of his father's rich baritone.

"It's not a death trap," Harry protested.

"Tell that to him," Draco rolled his eyes.

"We don't have a wine cellar but we do have wine," Harry opened the pantry door and indicated a tall rack of wine bottles. Draco fished through them, looking at a label here and there before finally selecting one. He set it down on the oversized table and regarded the the cork blankly.

"How am I supposed to open it without a wand?" he asked. It was the kind of question Harry would have expected him to deliver with an acerbic edge, but he seemed genuinely curious.

"Corkscrew," Harry opened a drawer and lobbed the utensil across the table to his former classmate. Belatedly he realized that the gesture was a bit too familiar for a guest.

"A what, now?" Draco held it up and eyed the twisted metal prong warily.

"I'll do it," Harry plucked it deftly from his hand and turned the handle to drive the screw into the cork. When it was deep enough he pressed the handles down, levering the cork out of the neck of the bottle.

"That's barbaric," Draco said mildly.

"The cork is out, isn't it?" Harry held it up for inspection.

Draco looked up at him pityingly, his clear gray eyes holding Harry's for a beat. Then his expression softened and he shrugged. "I suppose you're right," he said.

Harry didn't know how to respond, or whether one was even necessary. When had Draco fucking Malfoy ever conceded a point? He gathered up the place settings and put the tray in the dumbwaiter. Draco pressed the button for the ground floor and they went up to gather his relatives.

The volume was still blaring when they entered the drawing room. Narcissa turned eagerly as they arrived and pointed excitedly at the screen. "Look, Draco!" she cried. "You'll like this one, it's called Dragon's Den. Dragon's Den!"

"It's not really about dragons," Harry said delicately as he turned the volume down to a more reasonable level. He couldn't imagine they would be able to follow the programme. "Supper is here, if anyone is hungry."

Immediately the telly was forgotten. They trooped down the stairs and crowded around the pizza boxes with curious interest. Harry helped serve the slices and poured the wine. Then he excused himself and retreated to the kitchen to eat his own supper, some leftover takeaway from earlier in the week.

He brooded about Colin, even though he knew he shouldn't. He knew it wasn't really about Colin, he knew there were lots of other boys out there, that the right one would come along. But Colin had been the first boy who had made him feel okay about himself, like he wasn't an anomaly, or a pervert. He was special to Harry in a way that he never intended to be. It wasn't his fault. It was Harry's fault for falling for him. He blamed himself miserably and thought about all of the anonymous restroom encounters he'd had to prove to himself that Colin was right, that monogamy was absurd. He'd compromised what he wanted again and again to try to convince that damn bartender that he was the one, when there had really been no chance of that all along.

He was so absorbed in self-pity that he didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs. When Draco showed up in the doorway he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Were you not going to join us?" Draco asked as though he didn't care.

"Sorry, do you need something?" Harry had been too deep in his own thoughts to catch the question.

"No, they were just wondering if you were going to join them," Draco jerked his thumb towards the ceiling.

"They were?" Harry was surprised. He wasn't part of their group, he was hired help. He was the tour guide.

"Well, not as such," Draco shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "But they would probably bicker less if you were up there."

"I'm not here to keep them from talking to each other," Harry snorted. "Have a seat," he gestured to the bench across from him. Draco gave him a warning look. "Arsehole," Harry added with a smirk.

"How are you doing this?" Draco asked as he sat down, a little further away than the spot Harry had indicated. "How is this not driving you mad?"

"Is it driving you mad?"

"No," Draco looked insulted. "But I've got more social grace in my little pinkie than you have in your whole sodding body."

"Oh, you've been paying attention to my body?" Harry shot back saucily without thinking. To his utter shock Draco blushed and looked away. He felt pleased with himself for embarrassing his former rival enough that he couldn't come up with a retort. "Want a beer?" Harry kindly changed the subject.

"Sure," Draco lifted his chin proudly as his coloring returned to normal.

"It's not driving me mad because it hasn't been all that terrible so far," Harry finally answered his question. "Even you have been relatively humane."

"Don't get used to it," Draco said sharply. "I still think you're a prat."

"Takes one to know one," Harry plucked two bottles from the refrigerator and popped the caps.

"What is that cabinet?" Draco squinted at the light inside.

"Fridge," Harry said. "Keeps things cold."

"Without magic?"

"It runs on electricity," Harry nodded. "It's like the muggle version of magic."

"Why do you chill your beer?" Draco set his bottle down as though it were too cold to handle.

"Started doing it over the summer when we were doing renovations," Harry held the bottle to his face to demonstrate. "You get all hot and sweaty doing hard labor and an icy cold beer sounds just about right."

Draco blushed again for some reason and looked away. He sipped the chilled beverage tentatively, then grunted in appreciation. He nodded in concession, as though actually acknowledging Harry's opinion. Unprecedented, thought Harry.

"You know what I don't like about muggle things?" Draco said after a long pull on his bottle. "They're inelegant. A big cabinet that keeps things cold is a pants solution. So much better to use a spell to chill just the things you want kept cold."

"True, perhaps," Harry sat down again and tipped his bottle back. "But it has a certain charm. And for non-magical types, a bloody good way of accomplishing the same results."

"Innovative little mudbloods," Draco snorted.

"We don't use that word here," Harry's voice came out sharper than he intended.

Draco looked up as though startled, then glanced away quickly. Harry expected him to leave the room, to have a fit, to say something nasty in return. Instead he mumbled, "sorry," and took another pull from his beer.

They drank in silence for a few minutes, not looking at each other or moving much. Finally Harry felt obligated to smooth things over. "Your Auntie Gliese is brilliant," he said.

"She's alright," Draco shrugged. "I'd never met her until after the war. She was the only one Mother and Father trusted to transfer their fortune to when the Ministry tried to freeze their assets."

"Is that what's going on?" Harry suddenly understood. Auntie Gliese held the purse strings. Which meant she could force them into a muggle adventure, to go where she wanted to go, and to behave as though they enjoyed it.

"She said she'll transfer it back now that the acquittal is final," Draco added. "But she says we need to open our minds, to be educated first," he rolled his eyes in an exaggeratedly pained way.

"Is she the black sheep of the Black family?" Harry asked, thinking of Walburga's purity-obsessed portrait.

"I suppose," Draco shrugged. "She's the least interested in blood purity or blood loyalty. She's also the only one we could trust with my inheritance."

"Maybe that's not a coincidence," Harry knew he was treading on thin ice.

"Maybe," Draco surprised Harry again with his mild response. He drained the rest of his bottle and stood. "I'd better go back up. I need you to show me how everything works in my room." He looked at Harry challengingly, and Harry experienced an odd cognitive dissonance as he looked up at Draco fucking Malfoy in a fitted muggle t-shirt and jeans.

His arms were quite nice aside from the Dark Mark tattooed on his forearm, although it was less intimidating in a non-wizarding context. It sort of gave him a bad-boy vibe, Harry thought. Then he told himself to shut up.

The dining room was empty. They found Draco's parents and Gliese in the drawing room, trying to figure out how to turn the telly back on. They bickered simultaneously as they poked and pawed at the device. Narcissa asked it to turn on while Lucius commanded it to obey. Gliese offered ineffective suggestions that just made the other two more frustrated.

"They're like animals," Draco said under his breath.

"Let me help," Harry strode into the room and flipped the unit on with a click of the remote. Immediately the three of them sank into their seats and stared vacantly at the moving images.

"Do you want silky smooth skin?" an actress on the screen asked as she sensuously stroked her cheek.

"Yes, you already asked me that earlier," Lucius said sternly. "I don't know why she keeps asking," he whispered to his wife.

"It's a commercial," Harry said, then stopped as Draco laid a hand on his arm and shook his head in disgust. There was a good chance that he didn't understand the concept of the commercial either, but he recognized that explaining wouldn't help.

They left the three older guests and went upstairs to the bedrooms. Draco led Harry into the first darkened room at the top of the stairs and folded his arms across his chest. "It's dark," he said bluntly.

"There's a switch on the wall," Harry pointed just inside the doorway. "Push it up."

Draco sighed laboriously as though he had been asked to do start a fire from scratch. He pushed the switch up and the lamp on the chest of drawers flared to life. He raised an eyebrow disapprovingly at Harry, "Inelegant."

"What else do you need?" Harry smirked and leaned against the door jamb casually.

"What is that?" Draco pointed at the digital alarm clock as though it were offensive.

"That's a clock," Harry said as though it were obvious.

"It's blinking. And it's bright," Draco said. "And it has no hands."

You can unplug it if you don't like it," Harry shrugged.

"I noticed all of these things had strings tying them to the wall," Draco knelt down and yanked the plug free, effectively extinguishing the clock. "I assumed it was an attempt to keep people from stealing your furniture."

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. He laughed hard, hard enough that he expected Draco to hurl a cutting insult at him to stop him short. Instead he chuckled before catching himself and straightening up pompously.

"You're right," he said haughtily. "Who would want to steal this junk?"

Harry wasn't fooled, but he managed to quell the laughing fit. "Should I go check on the others?" he wondered.

"No," Draco waved his hand negligently. "Show me the rest of the house."

"Sure," Harry shrugged. It was better than going back to his room to mope. "This room is actually the one that Ron and I shared a couple of summers ago."

"I'm staying in the Weasel's room?" Draco looked horrified. He grimaced, "If I catch something that turns me ginger I will expect a full refund."

"Come on," Harry led him out into the hall. "The loo is down there, Everything you need is in the cabinets."

"That's assuming a lot," Draco said.

Harry led him to the third floor and showed each of the rooms. Finally they climbed to the fourth floor at the top of the house. "This is the honeymoon suite," Harry pushed open the door to the former master bedroom, a large space that looked out over the street below. An oversized bed dominated the middle of the room, and a cozy settee rested in front of the fireplace.

"Expecting newlyweds to rough it for their honeymoon?" Draco scoffed. Harry might have been imagining it, but he could swear he also detected a note of impressed approval behind Draco's outward facing criticism. He didn't know why he cared whether he impressed his former rival. Well, probably because he was his former rival.

"Over here is my bedroom," Harry pushed open the door to a sizeable room that looked out over the back garden. "Not that you need to know," he added.

"Good thing you took my wand," Draco brushed past Harry and strolled into the room. "Otherwise I'd be tempted to come up here and hex you in your sleep."

"Good thing I'm a light sleeper," Harry said wryly. "I'll be on the lookout now."

Draco sat on the edge of the bed and bounced a little, as though checking the springs. "A bit large for one person," he said.

"Who says there has to be only one person in here?" Harry considered being insulted.

"Do you bring company over?" Draco asked. "You don't bring muggles here, do you?"

"No," Harry said honestly.

"Would you date one?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged. "But I don't live here. Dean and I have a flat over the shop."

"You live in Diagon Alley?" Draco's eyes bugged out like he had never imagined such a thing.

"I only sleep here if we have guests. Or if Dean and Ginny are at home and I don't want to listen to them shag."

"Isn't she his ex?" Draco frowned. "Actually isn't she your ex?"

"She's a lot of people's ex." Harry quickly corrected himself, "I don't mean that the way it sounds."

"What do I care?" Draco waved his hand dismissively. "I wouldn't shag her with a barge pole."

"Nice," Harry grimaced. "You're all class, Malfoy."

"So are you dating one?" he ignored Harry's comment. "A muggle, I mean."

"Why do you care about my love life?" Harry didn't like where this was going. He would end up having to lie, and then he would end up moping over the Colin situation more than he already was.

"I don't," Draco stood up suddenly and shoved past him. He skipped down the stairs and Harry heard his bedroom door close.

He reviewed the conversation in his head and reassured himself that he hadn't revealed anything. The last thing he needed was Draco fucking Malfoy finding out that he liked boys. He would never hear the end of it.