Morning Visits

Draco was awakened by a house-elf. He snatched his dressing gown immediately, knowing they would only dare awaken him in the event of an emergency.

"Master Scorpius is being in the library fireplace, Master Draco."

The elf bore a large candelabrum to light his way, negating the need to light a Lumos. Draco followed the elf down stairs quickly, wondering what would drive his son to firecall in the middle of the night.

"Father, I'm sorry to wake you," Scorpius said when Draco dropped to his knees before his son's fiery visage.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Albus was attacked—don't worry, Madam Pomfrey healed him, but the noble prat won't tell me who did it. He's afraid I'll get in trouble for hexing them. I'm sure McGonagall will punish them, possibly even expel them, but that's simply not good enough."

Draco sat back on his heels, knowing his son was right. Albus was under Malfoy protection. He almost asked if Harry knew about the attack, but realized they would have notified the Auror immediately.

"All right, the hex you want is in the special book I gave you—the one that will get you tossed out of Hogwarts should they discover it. It's called Morir Tergum. The effects will not become apparent for seven days, by which time they'll have no chance of locating the caster. Only use it if you can do so without detection."

"I understand, Father. We'll be careful."

"We?" Draco asked. Another face appeared in the fire next to Scorpius.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," said James Potter. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but there were three of them, and… he's my brother."

Draco sighed. "Very well, but be aware that if you two are caught, your father will use my bollocks to decorate his broom. I'd prefer to keep them where they are."

"We won't get caught," James said grimly, sounding so much like Harry that Draco nearly smiled.

"Bye, Father," said Scorpius. The flames flickered and the boys disappeared. Draco got to his feet and sighed, vaguely missing the intrigue of Hogwarts and his days of prowling the castle trying to catch Harry Potter in some act of rule breaking.

It was nearly three o' clock in the morning. He wondered if it was too early to wake Potter, and decided to owl the Auror instead of Firecalling. He was certain the Ginger Shrew would have something to say about being awakened at this hour. Potter had, predictably, decided to try and work things out with his wife, who had agreed to quit the pureblood club.

Draco had to wonder if Blaise would give up so easily. He doubted it.

Potter popped in less than an hour later.

"I thought Malfoys did not rise before noon," he said with mock amazement.

"Sometimes Malfoys do not go to bed until dawn," Draco replied.

Potter grinned. "That would explain it." He sobered. "You heard about Al?"

Draco nodded. "Scorpius told me. Do you know what prompted it?"

Harry shook his head. "Al refused to say, and he insisted it was unnecessary for me to visit. He has identified the boys, but refused to give up a Pensieve memory, so we may never know what really happened." The Auror sat heavily on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair. "It's hard to watch them grow up, and know that you can't always protect them."

"Albus is not alone, Harry."

"I know, he's got Scorpius. And James, and Lily, and Rose and Hugo." Potter laughed. "That's a formidable group in itself."

"The wonder is that the boys were foolish enough to take on Albus, knowing that."

"Lily said Albus had been spending a lot of time alone. She thinks he had a fight with Scorpius."

Judging by his son's determination to punish the offenders, Draco assumed that possibility was no longer an option. "It happens. I seem to remember you having a tiff with your favorite Weasel at least once."

Harry grinned. "The Tri-Wizard Tournament. Ron was certain I had put my name in and then lied to him about it."

"The Weasel was none to bright."

"He apologized."

"Sometimes apologies are not enough, Potter." That sentiment encompassed far too many past grievances, and they both silently pondered them for a while. Harry stood up finally.

"I should get to the office and get an early start on things."

Draco rose, wondering what he could say to get Potter to stay longer, and cursing himself for the stupid sentiment. He stood close enough to touch with a simple lean as Potter reached for the jar of Floo powder.

"You have something in your hair," Draco murmured and slid a hand into the black curls, brushing as much of Potter's neck and scalp as he could manage under the guise of innocent fuzz-removal. It was not enough. His fingers moved from the back of Harry's head to the side of his neck, and then reached up to cup Potter's jaw. He tipped Harry's head back and took the Gryffindor's lips in a searching kiss. Merlin, he had waited so incredibly long…

Harry accepted the kiss far longer than Draco had expected. Was he simply curious? Or was there something more? Draco worked his tongue gently between Harry's lips. It stroked over Potter's, driving a violent spike of desire into Draco's groin. Fuck, he needed—

Harry shoved him away and strode several brisk paces across the room, breathing heavily. The green eyes flashed with anger. And denial? Draco dared to hope.

"Are you completely bent?" Harry demanded.

Draco seated himself gracefully in a nearby chair and crossed an ankle over his knee. He watched Harry pace appreciatively. One little kiss certainly made the Gryffindor agitated.

"Not completely, no," Draco admitted. "I'm more like a piece of ash. Generally straight, but I can be bent under the proper circumstances."

Harry gaped at him, and then started to laugh. "A piece of ash," he repeated and laughed until he had to sit on the couch or risk falling. It was a sound of genuine amusement that nearly made the corners of Draco's lips turn up in response, except that Malfoys did not take to being laughed at.

"That was meant to be poetic and profound," Draco said dryly.

"It failed miserably, but probably through no fault of yours," Harry admitted, still chuckling as he wiped tears from the corner of his eyes. "You see, my partner is American. When he goes looking for female companionship, he says he is 'going to find a piece of ass.'" Harry delivered it with a horrible American accent, and then chuckled again. "It just sounded so similar. I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."

Draco's eyes narrowed at the thought of Harry's American partner, a man with whom Harry shared so much of his life. "I'll be a piece of ash for you, Harry," he said quietly. The Gryffindor's laugh stopped as if choked out of him. Harry bolted to his feet and glared at Draco.

"Why do you fucking do that?" he snapped. "You're howling mad, you know?"

Draco sat back in his chair with a sigh. He scowled. "Well, I'd rather be ash than walnut—board straight and unyielding. Rigidity can lead to breakage, you know."

Harry tugged a hand through his black locks and Draco recalled the feel of it against his fingers for a moment. Harry grinned wryly.

"Can you stop the wood analogies, please? I'd rather not get into the properties of hemlock and aspen and pine."

Draco snorted.

Harry continued, "I'm just going to pretend you did not actually pounce on me. You're likely very tired, if you've been up all night. I'll just go to work now, and I'll see you later." He took a handful of Floo powder.

"No kiss goodbye?" Draco asked.

Harry laughed and looked at him almost fondly. "You're completely mental. I'll see you later."

Breakdown

Draco was in his study, dictating a letter to the Ministry with the aid of a Quick-quotes Quill, when Harry Potter Apparated into the room. Draco took in the wild expression, disheveled clothing, and clenched fists for only an instant before striding forward.

"Draco." Potter's voice was torn and barely audible. Draco enfolded the Auror in a tight embrace. Potter's body trembled unbelievably; he clutched at Draco and his wand dropped to the carpet. A sob tore from his throat. Draco pulled back to look in Harry's face as a cold shard of dread pierced him.

"They killed… oh god, Draco, they killed him."

Tears welled in the stricken green eyes and Draco fought to speak. Albus? Scorpius?

"Eric," Harry said. "Eric is dead. I couldn't save him."

Draco's relief was almost tangible, so much so that for the space of several moments he could not remember anyone named Eric. Another shudder shook Potter's frame and Draco recalled the Auror's American partner.

Harry became a near dead weight, so Draco allowed his knees to bend. They sank to the floor with Draco cushioning them carefully. Harry sobbed in earnest and clung to him like a heartbroken child. Draco rubbed his back gently and crooned into Potter's hair, giving him permission to lose control.

The storm did not last long. Harry pulled away, rubbing his eyes and sniffling until Draco produced a handkerchief. Harry blew his nose loudly.

"Sorry," he said in a barely audible tone, not meeting Draco's eyes. "I didn't mean to—"

Draco dragged him back into an embrace and squeezed lightly. "Stop it. Come sit down. I'll get you a drink."

Harry allowed Draco to maneuver him to a sofa. Rather than leave him alone, Draco called a house-elf to fetch a drink for the Auror. He kept his arm around Harry, who leaned into him without protest.

"It was the goddamned pureblood club. They want me, Draco. I've known it for a while now. I was lucky they don't really know what they're doing, and I've been training for this shit since I was fifteen years old."

The house-elf popped back in with a steaming mug of brandy laced with cream and spices, one of Narcissa's favorite blends. Harry took it in both hands and gulped half of it. He wrapped his hands around the mug and rested it on his thigh.

"It seemed like a routine call. There has been a rash of exploding cars—the Muggles blame it on terrorist groups. Hell, some of them really were terrorist groups. When the call came today, we got there as soon as we could. One Muggle was badly wounded, lying in the street bleeding and begging for help." Harry drank again. His knuckles were white. Draco tightened his grip and stroked Harry's arm lightly.

"It was a trap. We have a procedure—had a procedure. Eric would take the wounded to St. Mungo's and then Apparate back. The hospital has a special triage ward set up so we can do it as quickly as possible."

Harry drew a ragged breath.

"They must have known. They had to have known that we would take the injured man to safety, but they did not know that Eric always did the Apparating. I always stayed behind to face any danger. We never told anyone how we operated; it was just what we did."

Harry took a drink again and almost choked. Draco took the mug from him gently and set it aside.

"As soon as Eric touched the Muggle, they both… both… exploded."

Draco wrapped both arms around Harry and tucked the Auror's head under his chin. Harry's breathing hitched and then steadied.

"It was like a Muggle bomb, likely triggered by a Proximity Spell. Hermione and her crew are studying it… God, Draco." Harry's hand gripped Draco's arm tightly. "Ginny is still involved. I know it. I don't have proof yet, but the signs are there. She says she's going to visit friends… I don't trust her any more." He sounded so lost that Draco wanted to lock him away and shield him from further pain.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, knowing the words were inadequate.

Harry raised his head and looked straight into his eyes for only a moment before leaning forward and planting his lips on Draco's.

The shock lasted only until Harry's tongue slipped past Draco's lips and the kiss deepened. Harry clung to him, pressing him back into the sofa. His mouth devoured Draco's with a sweet urgency that was as bewildering as it was touching. Draco allowed Harry to plunder his mouth, more than content to let the Auror lead. He only feared it wouldn't last.

Harry pulled away, but spoke against Draco's lips. "I know you want me. I don't pretend to know why, but you do, so fucking take me. Please, god, help me stop thinking about this. I keep replaying every goddamn 'if only' scenario, but none of them will bring Eric back." His fists clenched in Draco's robes and his lips slid over his cheek to rest near Draco's ear. "Please, Draco, make it stop, if only for a while."

Draco swallowed hard. "Okay." He enfolded Harry in a tight hug and said, "Let's go upstairs."

In Draco's room, Harry stood woodenly as Draco silently undressed him, peeling off robes, shoes, shirt, and trousers. The Auror swayed for a moment and Draco held him, allowing his hands to slide over Harry's tense shoulders and back.

"Merlin, you're beautiful, Harry."

The Auror leaned in for another kiss, and Draco kissed him and then eased him onto the bed. His eyes slid over Harry's lean body, erasing the images he had dreamed and replacing them with reality. Harry had more hair on his chest than Draco had expected, dark curls that swirled in a compact pattern before trailing in a fine line down the center of his abdomen. Harry had a long white scar over his ribcage and another on his chest near his right nipple. A small mole rested near his navel, and Draco knelt on the bed and bent to kiss it gently, earning a gasp from Harry. The black boxers he wore bulged slightly, welcome proof that the Auror was not immune to Draco's charms.

Draco leaned back and propped his head up to look at Harry. He ran his other hand over Harry's ribs, but did not move other than that. He trailed his fingers through the dark hair and found it softer than anticipated. Draco drew his name on Harry's chest with infinite slowness, making a flourish after the O as was his wont.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, sounding bemused.

"Waiting."

Harry yawned suddenly, and his eyelids dropped closed momentarily. "Waiting for what?" he asked sleepily.

Draco smiled and trailed his hand over Harry's chest, erasing his imaginary name. He drew a circle around one nipple before sliding his fingers over Harry's slim throat to cup the strong jaw. Draco's thumb traced Harry lower lip, which trembled slightly. The green eyes watched him in confusion, and then sharpened.

"You drugged me."

Draco chuckled and nodded. "If you think I'm wicked enough to take advantage of you in this state, however tempting that might be, you might want to revise your low opinion." He moved his hand into the thick hair on Harry's head and pulled him closer.

"Damn you, Malfoy."

Draco cradled the dark head on his chest and tucked his chin into the soft thatch. "Rest now. I'll stay here with you."

Harry sighed heavily and relaxed. He ungracefully wrapped his arms around Draco. He mumbled something, but within moments his breathing became deep and even.

Draco held the sleeping hero and silently vowed to do whatever it took to protect him, beginning with a chat with Blaise Zabini.

Awareness of a warm body next to his brought Draco back from the realm of dreams. He much preferred reality to any dream, as long as Harry Potter was nestled in his arms. Harry's hair was crushed beneath Draco's chin, and he grinned when he envisioned how the Auror's hair would look when he woke.

Draco's arm was clapped to Harry's chest and their hands touched. Draco wanted to link their fingers, but refrained from moving so he would not wake the Auror. It was still dark, pre-dawn judging by the purplish light he glimpsed through the curtains. He thought about Harry's kisses. Merlin, the intensity had been all he had hoped for, and more. The mere thought of it stirred his blood and his body responded accordingly.

Harry must have felt the renewal of Draco's desire, because he moved. Surprisingly, he did not pull away, but only turned over to face Draco. The green eyes were enigmatic. Draco smiled gently and Harry reached up to put his palm against Draco's cheek.

"Thank you," Harry said. Draco took the hand in his and moved it to his lips so he could press a kiss into Harry's palm.

"I don't suppose you want to continue where you left off last night?" Draco did not bother to suppress the hopeful lilt in his voice.

Potter's cheeks tinted prettily. "Best not."

Draco grimaced, but he had known the Auror would never shag him in his right mind, and overcome with grief was definitely not a right mind.

"I was stupid last night," Harry admitted.

Draco tried to mask the hurt and drew back, finding it stupidly hard to take the sting of Potter's words. Harry caught Draco's hair, an action that no one alive would get away with except him. Draco drew in an outraged breath, but Harry's hand slid to the back of his neck and pulled him closer.

"Not because of you," Harry said firmly. "You've been brilliant through all of this—through everything. More than brilliant, because I never would have thought to act the way I did last night…" The Auror flushed, but gamely continued. "I won't pretend it didn't happen and I won't pretend I didn't want you. You… god, I can't believe I'm admitting this." Harry shut his eyes and his brow wrinkled as if he were in pain. "Fuck it. I do find you attractive and I can't stop thinking about you, but I can't take such a step and still live with myself. Not until I know for sure…" Draco waited expectantly, but Harry shook his head, probably already regretting his admission.

Draco slid closer until their breath mingled. "Let's revisit attractive and until."

Harry grinned wryly. "I should think the attraction would be obvious after last night, and you certainly don't need encouragement." He sighed heavily and Draco could almost see the weight pressing in on the Auror once more. "I have to go to America and tell Eric's family. I met them a few times; it won't be any easier coming from me, but at least they will hear it from someone that cared about him."

Draco allowed his hand to slide over Harry's back. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Harry's eyes closed, and then he met Draco's gaze again. "That means more to me than you can imagine, but I'll be all right. I'll take Teddy along. And then I'll be back for revenge against the bastards that killed Eric."

He pulled away and stood up, once more the strong, determined Auror. Draco nearly missed the broken Harry, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that he had been the one Potter had come to for solace.

"Potter? Be careful," Draco said seriously.

"I will."

Blaise Zabini

Draco met with Blaise in a quaint but overpriced café that had popped up in Diagon Alley. The food was tolerable, but it was mainly frequented due to the privacy factor. All of the booths had high walls and Silencing Charms cast upon them, making it a favored meeting place for lovers, or those with delicate business to conduct.

Blaise slipped into the seat across from Draco, late as usual. His white smile was gorgeous. Draco used the memory of Harry to stifle his appreciation of Zabini's charm. Draco was somewhat conflicted when it came to Blaise. He was nearly grateful to the git for luring Harry's bride to bed and giving Potter an excuse to leaver her—if the Auror ever clued in to their relationship. On the other hand, Blaise's action were unwittingly hurting Harry—to the point of nearly getting him killed, and that needed to stop.

However, if Blaise determined that Draco was trying to protect Harry, the bastard would help the ringleader destroy the Auror out of sheer spite. Blaise could be like an angry snake if he felt pressured. He reached across the table and clasped both of Draco's hands warmly.

"Draco, dare I hope you called me here to request my talents in your bed again?"

"Why? Has your tendency to sleep with everything that walks taken a dramatic turn?"

Blaise pouted, an expression that should have made him look feminine, instead gave his features a sultry cast. The cretin knew it, too.

Harry, Harry, Harry, Draco thought and called up an image of the Auror. He remembered Potter touching his jaw sweetly and admitting his attraction. It steadied Draco immediately.

"You wound me, Draco," Blaise said. "I am a changed man."

"You have certainly shagged Potter's wife for quite a lot longer than anyone expected, but that does not mean you aren't stirring the cauldron with a dozen others on the side."

Blaise's dark eyes shuttered. "You know about that?"

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Draco snapped.

"I'll take you any way I can get you, Draco," Blaise said huskily and the teasing light returned to his eyes. His fingertips caressed Draco's hands. "Come back to my place?"

"So, you're not serious about the Weaselette, then?"

"Jealous?" Blaise asked, but he sat back and flagged a server with a flick of his wrist. He ordered a bottle of wine. When the waiter departed, Blaise cocked a brow at Draco. "Did you only call me here to ask about her?"

Draco nodded curtly.

"Why? Are the rumors true that Potter has been to the Manor several times? Are you falling for him?"

Luckily, Draco had expected Blaise's sharp question. Zabini always went for the jugular when he felt threatened. Draco's face betrayed nothing as he shrugged.

"Our sons are friends. Potter drops Albus off to amuse Scorpius. There is no love lost between us, as you should recall from our past history—it's you I'm concerned with."

Blaise's surprise did not seem feigned. "Me?" He blinked for a moment and then laughed aloud. The waiter returned with the bottle and two glasses, which he quickly poured before departing once more. Blaise took a sip and looked speculatively at Draco. "You've never been concerned with me before, Draco."

Draco's eyes flashed. "Just because you're an insensitive, selfish bastard that cannot commit to anyone or anything does not mean I don't care about you. If you insist on maintaining this thing with Potter's wife, you are going to be in serious danger." Draco's voice rang and he realized he was sincere. He really did care about Blaise, even if he dared not ever become involved with him again.

"From Potter?" Blaise snorted.

"Actually, from that ridiculous club you're involved with."

"The one you refuse to join."

"I've never thought of Muggle-baiting as a sport, even in my semi-Death Eater days. And neither did you."

"Things change," Blaise said mildly.

"Are you saying you've joined in that idiotic behavior?" Draco sat forward. "You heard about Potter's partner, did you not?"

"I read the paper."

"Potter will be out for blood. He'll stop at nothing to crush your little group." Draco chanced a lure. "Do you know who's in charge?"

"I might have an idea."

"Then you must know their time is limited."

Blaise laughed and leaned forward again. "Merlin, Draco, don't be so melodramatic. You act like Potter is all-powerful."

"He destroyed the Dark Lord, Blaise. I'd say that qualifies him as pretty fucking powerful."

"He got lucky. Apparently Potter actually died during the final battle. I heard it directly from his wife. Some magic of Dumbledore's brought him back. His Gryffindor luck won't hold out forever."

"You condone these attempts on Potter's life?" Draco's tone was dry and tinged with amusement.

Blaise smirked. "If Potter met with an unfortunate accident, then the beauteous Ginny would be all mine, wouldn't she?"

"Surely you're not in love with her?"

Blaise did not reply and toyed with the stem of his wineglass for a moment. He leaned forward with a wicked glint in his eye and took Draco's hands again. "Would you be upset if I was, Draco?" His tone was so artfully hopeful that Draco had to smile. The git had not lost any of his charm, that was certain. Blaise took his grin as encouragement and moved around the table to slide in next to Draco.

Blaise's dark hand cupped Draco's chin and drew him into a searching kiss. The talented lips and tongue sought to pull a response from Draco, but he miraculously felt nothing. Draco was very nearly alarmed by the knowledge that Potter's desperate assault had apparently ruined him for all other men. Blaise redoubled his effort, twisting his hands in Draco's hair.

It was at that moment that Ginny Potter approached their table. Draco caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and pulled away from Blaise. He gave the Ginger Shrew a glare and then watched Blaise carefully.

Blaise gave her a bright smile, looking in no wise guilty. Draco was not certain Blaise had ever felt that particular emotion.

"Mrs. Potter," Blaise said formally. "How nice to see you." She turned and hurried out without a word. Blaise had not taken his hand from Draco's hair and he caressed roughly with his nails, a movement that had once made Draco purr.

"Shouldn't you rush after her?" Draco asked, fighting the effects of Blaise's practiced touch.

"No need," Blaise said with a predatory smile. "Now where were we?" He leaned in close, but Draco blocked Zabini's lips with a hand.

"We were about to tell you to piss off, Blaise. Just consider ending your association with the pureblood club, all right? It's doomed. And if you are half as intelligent as you think you are, you'll also stop shagging Potter's wife." Draco sipped his wine and ignored the way Blaise's fingers had slipped beneath his collar and drew over his skin. "Then again, you've never been terribly smart when your prick is involved."

"You still haven't forgiven me for cheating on you?" Blaise asked. He did not bother to pout and sounded almost regretful.

"Ancient history. I don't hold grudges."

Blaise threw back his head and laughed, a rich sound that would have drawn attention if not for the Silencing Charm.

"Draco, your grudges are legend. You've held one against Potter since you were eleven years old."

"Potter is different," Draco snapped.

Blaise withdrew his hand. "All right, then. I'll not be drawn into another argument about Potter. If you have no intention of sleeping with me, I'll leave you to sulk over your not-grudge."

"I have no intention of sleeping with you."

Blaise sighed and downed the rest of his wine. "Fine. I shall settle for the forbidden ginger fruit if she's not too hacked off with me." Blaise stood, but his dark eyes sparkled. Draco knew trying to save Blaise was a lost cause. He loved a challenge. Zabini blew him a saucy kiss and strode out, presumably to track down and woo back Harry's annoyed wife. Draco sighed and lingered over his wine, sulking over his grudge that had become a crush.

Dessert

Draco's crush appeared at Malfoy Manor that night. Draco was in the dining room enjoying his dessert, even though his mother had forgone the confections and retired to her rooms. A house-elf announced Harry, who looked so out of place Draco half-expected him to scuff his foot on the carpet.

"Do come in, Potter," Draco said lightly. "Have some tiramisu—I can't vouch for it, as it's not my favorite, but the mousse is quite good. I am not quite certain what the gelatinous red concoction is called, but it is very tasty. I've eaten most of it."

Harry sat down across from him and actually smiled. "Nearly every time I come here, you are eating sweets. The cane growers should send you gifts."

"No need. I own a plantation and sugar mill in the Caribbean. You should come tour it with me some day."

Potter ignored that, as Draco expected, but he did pick up a spoon and try the red confection. He shut his eyes for a moment and Draco savagely wished he had been the one to bring that expression of bliss to the Auror's face. He set down his utensils; his appetite for food was gone.

"Ginny is cheating on me," Harry said tonelessly once he had swallowed the dessert. Draco blinked at him in surprise. Potter nodded and looked at his reflection in the spoon—upside down on the concave side. "She came home in tears today and confessed all. Apparently she's been having an affair with Blaise Zabini for months."

Harry flipped the spoon around and gazed at the back of the silver as though it held the secrets of the universe. Harry's lack of emotion was alarming.

"Harry…" he said, but Potter set down the spoon and got to his feet. He started to pace.

"All this time I thought it was me. I thought if I tried harder, everything would go back to normal. I mean, yes, I worked a lot, but it was after the trouble started, when we could not be in the same room together without an argument brewing." The Auror pulled a hand through his hair, looking bereft. Draco had played the scene out in his mind a dozen times—heartbroken Harry discovering his wife's infidelity and seeking solace in Draco's arms. The reality was nothing like Draco's visions. His heart hurt seeing Harry's pain clenched around him like a smothering shroud. Draco stood, itching to touch the Auror, who barked a humorless laugh.

"Who am I fucking kidding? It is my fault. I watched Ginny slipping away and I did nothing to stop it. She seemed to want her space, her freedom—her own life."

Draco rounded the table. "Stop it, Harry. You are not responsible for her falling into bed with Blaise Zabini. That was her decision."

Harry made a bitter sound. "Allegedly, Zabini is irresistible." He stopped pacing and folded his arms around himself as if warding off a chill. "Ginny sobbed to me that she broke it off with him because she caught him with someone else. He was cheating on her, isn't that ironic?" Harry paused. "Interestingly, the one she caught him with… was you."

Harry's piercing gaze met Draco's for the first time and he winced. That was unexpected, as was the remorse generated by Harry's tone of accusation.

"Tell me, Malfoy, is Zabini really that good, or do you just try to fuck everyone you meet?" Draco swallowed, shocked by the anger in Harry's voice. The Auror continued, "Your attempts to get into my pants was just a stupid game to you, wasn't it? You goddamn Slytherin's are all the same—you don't care who you hurt."

Draco bit back a furious retort and forced himself to reply in an even tone.

"I am nothing like Blaise, Potter," he snapped. "And despite the fact that it is none of your business, I am not sleeping with him, unlike your wife, who most assuredly is."

Harry flinched and Draco instantly regretted firing that salvo. He sighed and wondered why things always degenerated into rage between them. Draco pressed his fingers into suddenly aching temples.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco asked harshly. "Not comfort, apparently, since you still don't seem to think very much of me."

Harry looked away and nodded. He appeared even more bereft than he had when he had arrived. The space between them was barely six paces, but it felt as deep and impassable as an ocean. Draco clenched his fists and waited for Harry to Disapparate so he could drink himself into a state of maudlin depression.

Instead of leaving, Harry spoke again. He stared fixedly at the logs stacked neatly in the fireplace as if expecting them to spontaneously ignite. "The thing is, I was not exactly surprised when Ginny told me. I've known for quite some time that she was still involved with the pureblood club. I even suspected she was having an affair, since we haven't had sex in over six months." Harry did not bother to conceal his bitterness with that statement and he flushed slightly at the admission. He stopped hugging himself and tugged at his hair again. He sighed heavily. "At any rate, I was not surprised. It felt more like puzzle pieces locking into place. I was actually relieved to finally learn the truth."

Draco crossed his arms, reluctantly interested in Potter's ongoing confession.

"I wanted to hunt Zabini down and kill him, of course. With my bare hands, if necessary. Oddly, though, it was not because of his affair with Ginny." Harry looked directly at Draco; his emerald eyes were full of torment. "I wanted to kill him, not for touching my wife, Draco, but for touching you. How utterly fucked up is that?"

Draco crossed the space between them, not quite certain he had heard correctly. He wondered how so few words could dissipate an ocean. Draco took Harry in his arms, scarcely able to breathe. The Auror was stiff as a board, obviously at war with his revelation. Draco held on anyway, unwilling to let Harry go now or ever. "It was just a kiss, Harry. Blaise was being an arse, trying to provoke me. It failed. The only one I want is you." Draco slid a hand tentatively up Harry's spine, hoping for a thaw.

"You said something to me once," Harry said, and his voice muted as he spoke over Draco's shoulder. "I thought I dreamed it at the time, but I've wondered. It was right after you cured me of the stone spell."

"What did I say?" Draco asked into his hair while breathing the scent of it.

"You said you loved me."

It was Draco's turn to go rigid. He had admitted that? The ground nearly fell away from him for a moment.

Harry sighed and nodded. "I thought I was hallucinating. I should have known…"

"I meant it," Draco said. He drew back so he could see Harry's face. He met the green eyes soberly. He cupped Harry's cheek gently. "It's true."

A gorgeous blush lit the Auror's face, making Draco fight the urge to kiss him.

"Why?" The question was so typically Potter that Draco had to laugh.

"If you have a lifetime, I'll show you," Draco said and pitched his voice to its huskiest timbre. He leaned forward then and pressed his lips to Harry's, feather-lightly. "I love you, Harry." He kissed the Auror more insistently. "I love your lips, your eyes, and your impossible hair." The third kiss coaxed at Harry's lips, begging him to respond. "I love your foolish Gryffindor tendencies, and your obsessive need to do the right thing. I love the way you walk and the way you taste—"

Draco was not sure what caused the break, but suddenly Harry's arms were around Draco and his mouth was opening, welcoming Draco's kisses. It was like the night Harry's partner was killed, but better because the Auror was not weighed down with grief and driven by guilt.

The intensity, though—fuck, that was still there. Draco thought he might crack from the force of it as Harry strove to devour him. Their tongues met, fought, relented, and settled into a gentle exploration. Harry's hands were everywhere, feeling Draco's arms, ribs, and back before tucking into his hair and teasing the soft patches behind Draco's ears with his thumbs.

Draco wondered if it was possible to die of need. He kept his hands clenched in the Auror's hair, to keep from tearing the clothes from Harry's body. Their wild kiss broke, although they did not go far, panting heavily against each other's lips.

"God, Draco," Harry whispered. "I've never felt—nothing has ever been… like that."

"Good," Draco said, even though he could scarcely breathe. "It's barely the beginning, Harry. There is so much more to come."

Harry stepped back, utilizing willpower Draco could not have dredged up if his life depended on it. "I can't, Draco. I want to, god how I want to—"

Draco's hands were still in the black hair and he held tightly, not letting go, fuck no, not now. Harry winced.

"Please, Harry, just let me…" Draco untangled one hand and placed it boldly on Harry's erection, which was thankfully in the same state as Draco's. Harry gasped and Draco stroked. "Merlin, Harry, just let me touch you."

The Auror nodded once and Draco put both hands on Potter's waistband, striving for calm to keep his fingers from trembling. He felt like an untried schoolboy touching his crush for the first time, but this was Harry Potter, for fuck's sake, and Draco had never been in love before.

Harry's cock sprang free and Draco looked at it with something akin to awe. He touched it lightly, drawing his fingers over the head. It jumped in his hand and he felt wetness slick his pads. Draco quelled the urge—barely—to lick Harry's precome from his fingers, and settled for turning the Auror and pressing him back onto the dining room table. He shoved aside dishes, desserts, and utensils with a loud clatter, not caring how many hit the floor.

Draco hovered over Harry for a moment and drank in the sight of him sprawled there—hair disheveled, lips red from Draco's kisses, clothing rumpled and partly removed, cock standing at attention, and those impossibly green eyes watching him. Draco swallowed with emotion and knew he would never eat another meal in this room without envisioning Harry laid out like a dessert buffet. He bent down to press his lips to Harry's beautiful erection.

"Draco. Come here." The words caused Draco's head to snap up. Where the hell had the Auror been hiding that voice? One hand was lifted in supplication and Draco obligingly climbed onto the table, thankful that the slab of walnut was extremely broad as well as massively sturdy.

He bent and kissed Harry again, half straddling him in a kneeling position. The Auror's hand tugged at Draco's waistband.

"You too," Harry said. Draco held his breath as Harry's hands worked at the material until he released Draco's cock. Harry's hand closed around it gently and Draco shut his eyes. Harry explored it from length to tip and his touch was better than any dream Draco could have conjured.

"It's nice," Harry said and Draco opened his eyes to meet Harry's. He nearly laughed aloud in delight at the sweet comment.

"Thanks. Yours is, too." To prove it, Draco wrapped his hand around Harry's cock again. Their hands bumped together as their strokes grew faster and more determined. Their kisses became shorter and the gasping pauses longer until Harry kissed Draco hard enough to draw blood. The Auror arched beneath him, stifled a cry, and came.

Even though Harry's hand stopped moving, his release was enough to trigger Draco's orgasm. He collapsed on Harry and his raw lips burned where they touched the sweaty black curls. The Auror's arms wrapped around Draco and held him tightly as his breath panted in Draco's ear.

After awhile, Harry shifted slightly and Draco assumed he was crushing the Auror's spine into the hard wood. He rolled over and cast a quick Cleaning Charm. Harry tried to straighten his clothing, but Draco brushed his hands aside and did it for him. He ran his fingers over Harry's smooth skin, uncertain when he would have another opportunity. He fastened his own clothing and levered off the table before offering Harry a hand.

Draco pulled him off the table and into a fierce embrace.

"Are you going to go all regretful Gryffindor on me?" Draco asked. Harry sighed and returned the gesture, squeezing Draco almost painfully.

"No. I don't regret that at all. You're… amazing."

"But?" Draco prodded, sensing the word's omission.

"But I don't know if I can do this again. I'm still married and I'm… well, I'm not certain what I feel right now. So much has happened in just a few weeks."

Draco bit down on a sharp retort. He had already received more from Harry than he had expected. Giving in to impatience now would only satisfy for the moment.

"What will you do?" he asked instead. He stepped back and cupped Harry's face with both hands.

"Go home and talk to Ginny. Try and figure this mess out." The Auror's hands lightly gripped Draco's waist.

"Well, if you should come to your senses, you are welcome here. I'll give you your own wing. Or the chambers next to mine. Or my chambers," Draco said suggestively.

Harry's hands tightened and he grinned. "You never give up, do you?"

"I'll never give up on you, Harry. Count on it."

Draco loved the way Harry's chest hitched in a breathless little motion, and then the Auror leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on Draco's lips.

"I'm not sure when you stopped being an evil prat and turned into—" He kissed Draco again, "Someone wonderful, but I'm glad it happened. I'm not quite sure how I feel about you right now, but at the very least… I trust you."

Draco kissed him hard, not caring that it hurt. Harry's words were nearly as good as a declaration of love, and far more than the Ginger Shrew could claim. He wanted to go on kissing Harry until the Auror forgot all about his foolish wife, but at last he stepped back and let Harry go.

"You might want to get out of here, Potter, before I forget myself and take you upstairs." Harry looked tempted—Draco would have sworn to it—but he smiled gently and was gone.

Author's Note: There won't be an update on this for awhile (a week maybe?) because I'll be sans Internet sobs hysterically but I'll definitely post the rest as soon as I… um… write it. LOL! Happy holidays to everyone!