Leave it to Blaise to muck everything up. Draco had been perfectly fine to just let things play out, but his school chum couldn't let him do that without inserting a bit of self-doubt. He was right, Harry was on holiday, which meant he was probably approaching Draco with different intentions from what they would be in another situation.
Holidays were insulating, they offered safe fantasies with the promise of no complications. Which wasn't to say that Draco wanted something complicated. He'd only just come to grips with wanting anything at all. He'd only just come to grips with the idea that Harry was attracted to him. Actually, back that up further, he'd only just come to grips with the idea that Harry Potter didn't hate him.
Why did it have to mean anything? Why did there have to be any grips to come to? Why couldn't they just fool around and have some fun and move on? It would be like one of the masquerade parties, but without the masks.
Except Draco had stopped going to those parties. He'd found them unfulfilling and they made him feel cheap. They made him feel like he was nothing but a vehicle for his cock, and he didn't like feeling so simplified.
Maybe that was why he was curled up on the sofa in his suite rather than out on the deck while the Aurors continued their day-long series of meetings. Maybe he was feeling simplified and a bit unwilling to to come out of hiding now. Because Harry hadn't bothered to sit down and get to know him. He hadn't asked how he was doing, he hadn't asked what he'd been up to since the war. He hadn't asked whether Draco had been punished in the trials, whether he still had nightmares about the Dark Lord, whether he still woke up in a sweat from dreams about Professor Dumbledore, whether he could no longer visit Diagon Alley because it was too close to Knockturn Alley, whether he still sometimes cried over the loss of his friend in the terrible Fiendfyre accident.
Whether he still regretted every single time he had lashed out at Harry when he really wanted to punish himself.
Harry hadn't asked any of that. Harry had asked for a wank and then sucked Draco off. He'd been eyeballing Draco since his arrival, looking for openings and treating him like a target or an achievement or something to be obtained. He would have almost preferred if Harry had come on a bit hostile and at least got to know him and realized that maybe they could get along. But to walk in and straight away go for the hook-up, that felt hollow. Meaningless.
"Damn it, Blaise," Draco went to his wardrobe and withdrew another suit. "Why couldn't you have kept your mouth shut?"
The afternoon was getting on, so he knew Blaise would be on his case about preparing for the supper service and calling for escorts. He went downstairs and breezed through the kitchen, then stopped off at the back office Floo. He made the same request as the previous night and then after a moment's thought he placed one more Firecall. If all Harry wanted was easy cock access, he could have it.
At supper he stayed out of the way, only directing and not intervening. After supper he anticipated Blaise's next concern and set up drink service by the pool. By the time the guests were finished dining he was already pouring and the escorts were at the front door.
"Cheers, Malfoy," Ron snagged a Butterbeer and took a long pull. "I've been thinking about this all day."
"I hope you were able to concentrate on the day's presentations," Draco uncorked a bottle of Merlot and poured a glass for himself.
"Rubbish," Ron leaned forward confidentially. "Not a bit of practical information in the lot."
"Hey, come on," Neville had showed up for a beer and overheard his friend's criticism. "What about mine?"
"Neville," Ron winced and took another deep drink. A line of foam crossed his upper lip. "I appreciate all you do for the Auror's Office, I really do. But financial analysis of time spent on forms and procedures?"
Draco snorted and quickly cut himself off. Ron looked so pained, so miserable, so comically injured by the topic of Neville's presentation that he couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh yeah, Malfoy?" Neville's eyes darkened. "Think that's funny, do you?" He shot a glare at Ron, too. "Nothing ever changes. Still having a laugh at dopey old Longbottom."
Ron and Draco ducked their heads. Draco wished he could explain that he was laughing at Ron's dismay, not Neville, but knew it would fall on deaf ears.
"Come on, mate," Ron shrugged helplessly. "I'm just grumpy from sitting in that room all day. It was a good presentation."
Draco saw his opening. "I wasn't laughing at you, I swear."
"Right," Neville's expression didn't soften. He shook his head and turned away. "Honestly, Malfoy, I don't know what Harry has ever seen in you."
Draco watched him walk away, and a moment later watched Ron depart for the other side of the pool. Everyone else was having a good time and already pairing up with—
Wait. What did Neville mean by "ever?"
Unfortunately he had no time to ponder the answer to that question. Because Harry had now returned from his room, and was now entering the deck area, and was now approaching Draco with a smile. Draco smiled back, hiding a seething cauldron of confusion and conflicting emotions.
"Doing all right?" Harry smiled.
"I suppose," Draco knew his posture was rigid. It was agonizing. How was he supposed to look at that face, that body, that mouth, knowing what had happened earlier, without jumping on him and begging for a repeat performance? But if he did, wouldn't he just be buying into Harry's superficial hook-up game? Assuming that's what it was. But how could it not be?
"No really," Harry's smile morphed into a frown. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Draco knew his voice didn't convey fineness. It conveyed hurt and confusion and hesitance. In only two words, not bad.
Harry watched him for a moment, reading his body language before speaking again. He stepped up close and checked over his shoulder. "Are you having regrets about earlier?" he asked.
"No," Draco said honestly. He didn't have regrets. He had concerns. About implications. And consequences. That wasn't the same as regrets.
"You don't seem fine," Harry said. "Can we go somewhere to talk?"
"No really—"
Just then the male escorts arrived. Three of them, impeccably groomed and impossibly handsome, in fact so impossibly handsome that Draco suspected magic.
Harry immediately recognized them for what they were. He turned on Draco with eyebrows knitted together. Hurt, what he was showing Draco was hurt.
"What is this?" he hissed. "Did you call them?"
"Well Blaise thought you would be more comfortable—"
"Draco, did you call these gentlemen?" Blaise appeared at his elbow. "I thought you and Pot— oh hello Potter, how are you this evening?" Blaise leaned casually on the drink cart and tried to cover his slip.
"You called them?" Harry only had eyes for Draco. "Why?"
"I just thought," Draco couldn't look at him. He stared out over the pool and tried to ignore the trickle of sweat that rolled down between his shoulder blades.
"Right," Harry turned on his heel and went inside.
"What are you doing?" Blaise snapped. "Follow him!"
Draco jumped and hustled inside. Harry was already across the atrium and ascending the stairs.
"Potter," he called.
"Don't bother, Malfoy," Harry called back.
"Just stop for a moment," Draco ran up the stairs behind him and reached for his elbow.
"What?" Harry whirled around on the top step and glared at Draco. The two steps of height and natural breadth of shoulders made his anger an intimidating sight.
"I don't know," Draco faltered. "But stop anyway."
"Why, so you can offer up more anonymous hook-ups for my holiday pleasure?" Harry turned and stormed past the conference room towards the guest corridor.
"Isn't that what you wanted?" Draco pursued him, refusing to be put off by his anger.
"How could you think that?" Harry whirled around again. "You're not anonymous. I already said I didn't want an escort."
"You came here looking for sex, Potter," Draco heard his voice rise before he realized he was getting angry himself. "You walked in after five years of no contact, following seven years of hostility, and you made it very clear what you were looking for. You may not consider it anonymous sex, but that's what it amounts to, doesn't it?"
Harry's anger froze. His eyes searched Draco's and then his shoulders sagged. "No it doesn't," he said softly.
"How can it be anything else?" Draco's voice cracked.
Harry turned away again and strode to his door, his shoulders rounded. Draco ran after him again and blocked the doorway with his arm, as though Harry couldn't simply overpower him.
"How can it be anything else?" he repeated.
Harry shook his head and lifted Draco's arm from the door jamb. He ducked under it and went inside. As the door swung shut Draco heard three words that struck him harder than a fist.
"Because it's you."