Harry woke up with a horrible taste in his mouth, a painful crick in his neck, and a heavy weight on his lap. His glasses were still on his face, his head ached as it never had before, and he was dreadfully far from his bed, instead seated in the wingback chair in his living room. Harry looked over at the much more comfortable couch, which, if he remembered correctly, Draco had occupied the night before. Harry cast a Tempus Charm. 10:30. Had Draco ran out on him? Was it possible to run out on someone when you hadn't had sex or even kissed? The strong smell of bacon wafted into the room before Harry could ponder the possible answers to these questions.

"Wake up," Draco called from the kitchen. "I'm bored and I will eat all of this myself if you don't get in here within five minutes. No, not five, that's generous. Two. You have two minutes."

Harry groaned, pushed Mal off his lap, and dragged himself up and out of the chair. Though the kitchen was considerably less than 100 feet away from the living room, the journey seemed much longer than usual. Harry slumped down at the counter.

"Good morning to you, too," Draco said, entirely too cheery for anytime before noon on a Saturday. He put a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of Harry, along with a glass of pumpkin juice and a stoppered bottle of a foggy green liquid. It registered with Harry as Draco crossed the room that Draco was wearing some of Harry's pajamas. Harry would've given him a fond look if it hadn't hurt him just thinking of contorting his features into anything but a grimace.

"Eat a bite or two, then drink the potion," Draco half-ordered Harry.

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "What's the potion?"

"Curative for hangovers. I usually have some on me just in case."

"Is it too soon to say I love you?" Harry took a bite of bacon, unstoppered the bottle, and gulped down the potion. It went to work immediately; the crick in his neck remained, but the headache dissipated.

"Malfoys don't say 'I love you' ever, so, yes, it is too early," Draco said, an amused expression on his face. "Hangover potions don't taste particularly good, as I'm sure you've now realized, thus the breakfast. Also, I thought it might convince you that I really am sorry about that skrewt/flobberworm hybrid comment."

Harry laughed. "If I say I'm not convinced, will you continue cooking for me?"

"I may consider doing that anyway," said Draco. He looked away then, but not before Harry caught a glimpse of his smile. After dinner the night before, they'd spent a few hours raiding Harry's liquor cabinet and recalling the very worst insults they'd hurled at each other in school.

"It really sounded like you meant that one, though," Harry said.

"I didn't, I swear," said Draco, bringing his own breakfast to the counter and sitting beside Harry. "I was plenty jealous of you by that point. And not just the whole savior thing."

"Oh, yeah? What were you jealous of?"

"Your eyes. And your body."

"My body? Really?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Please. You grew into something other than dreadfully thin. I never got so lucky."

"You're not dreadfully thin," said Harry. "You're slim. And believe me, it isn't a bad thing. Not on you, at least."

"Again, I repeat: please. You're just trying to make penance for the time you told Pansy you'd rather go into Hogsmeade with a trio of Inferi than her and Theo and me."

"Well, why did you want me to go with you, anyway?" Harry asked. "That was October last year, right?"

Draco nodded. "It was Theo's idea. Said he was sick of taking the piss out of you."

"That was around the same time I tried to give your wand back, actually. Maybe he was scheming."

"For what? To get you and me together or something? Then wasn't he a bit at odds with himself?"

"I suppose, yeah."

"Well, he wouldn't have wanted to do that, anyway. We were dating at the time, and for two months after that."

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice and Draco laughed. "I suppose you didn't know that, then?"

"No. I didn't. Does that mean you—"

"Yes, Harry, I'm not a virgin, either."

"Either?"

Draco snorted. "If you don't think I worked out that you and Weasley the Elder shagged, and relied on shagging as the lifeblood of their relationship, then you have no conception of how intelligent I am. That is to say I'm more intelligent than a block of wood."

"It wasn't the lifeblood of our relationship!" Harry protested. Draco raised his eyebrows, and Harry sighed. "OK, maybe it sort of was here and there. It almost got boring, though, you know?"

"No, I can honestly say I do not know what it's like for sex to become a chore," said Draco. "But Theo and I didn't do it nearly as much as we would have liked to. We couldn't with Greg and Blaise hanging around."

"Did they know?"

"Sure. But that didn't mean they needed auditory or visual confirmation."

"Alright, that's fair. Still don't know why Theo wanted the four of us to go into Hogsmeade together."

"Foursome, maybe?" Draco laughed at his own joke. "I don't know. He was always keener on being friendly and polite than the rest of us. That's why I liked him."

"Draco Malfoy was attracted to friendliness?" Harry feigned shock.

Draco shrugged. "Why not? You're friendly, and I fancy you." He paused. "I also liked Theo's chest quite a bit. Can't recall seeing yours recently enough to know if I'll feel the same way about it."

"Could you like it more?" Harry asked before eating the last of his bacon.

Draco cocked his head to the side, examining Harry. "Your body's appealing enough with clothes on, so it's a distinct possibility. Frankly, Harry, I'm shocked you didn't try anything last night."

"Try anything?" Harry laughed. "You said no snogging, and I didn't know how you'd retaliate under the influence."

"Probably compliantly, if not eagerly," said Draco. Harry gaped at him, and Draco smirked back. "I tend to think much more with my cock when I'm inebriated. And yet, you ignored your overbearingly Gryffindor instincts and kept your word. Honorable, really."

"Why don't you want me to kiss you, anyway?" Harry asked, attempting to distract himself from the idea of Draco thinking with anything but his brain.

"I suppose I don't want to risk getting attached too quickly. This was, after all, our first date, if it can be called that."

"What's the problem in getting attached? We like each other. That's enough reason, right?"

"You do rush into things, don't you?" Draco laughed. "What if I told you right now that I had a dreadful time last night and never want to try something like this again?"

"Well, I'd be hurt," said Harry. "But I'd try to understand and maybe ask you out again in six months."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You never give up. It's simultaneously one of the most appealing and infuriating things about you."

"I get that sometimes."

"Anyway, luckily enough for you, and for me, last night was not dreadful. Last night was actually quite nice, and it was rather charitable of you to let me have the couch. Now, why you didn't use your own bed to sleep, I don't know. Perhaps the distance would've overwhelmed you."

"Git." Harry couldn't fight the smile on his face. "So, one of your better first dates, then?"

"Well, Theo was so nervous he shattered a glass at Rosmerta's and made her even angrier at me than she still was, and Marcus—"

"Flint too?"

"Marcus insisted I meet his parents on the first date rather than later, and Granger—Hermione—well, you know how that worked out. So, yes, I'd say you're doing rather well." Draco shook his head. "I still don't know what came over me there. I mean, I knew I wasn't straight by that point."

"Wait. You don't know?" asked Harry.

"Don't know what?"

"She never told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Oh. Oh. Nothing. Forget I—so should I tell you about my first date with Ginny? Well, I don't even know where to—"

"Potter," Draco said steadily, "if you don't tell me right away what you know and I don't, I swear to Salazar, I will not hesitate to hex your cock and balls off and throw you out of your own home."

"So it's Potter again," said Harry weakly.

"Don't test me, Harry." Draco's expression softened slightly. "Tell me."

"Well, you were only interested in her—everyone was only interested in everyone, really—because of the fan fiction," Harry said. "There was something magic to it, not our kind of magic, I don't know what it was, but it made it so people were attracted to each other in these weird and, I guess, fictional ways. And it lasted a certain amount of time, and then it was over."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "So that's what's going to happen here, then?"

"What? No! It's past the 60-day—"

"Just stop. Stop now." Draco put his head in his hands and kneaded at his temples. "Of course this isn't real. Why would the person I've been interested in since we were 13 suddenly take notice of me? Because my lethifold thinks he should and makes it happen? It plays out the same way some sex starved post adolescent American woman's greatest fantasy would, doesn't it?" He stood. "I should be going. I meant it when I said ... I meant it, alright? But that doesn't mean I shouldn't leave now. Now that I know this isn't real."

"Draco, no. You don't understand. This, us, now? It's not part of—"

"I understand, Harry. Really, I do. And I also understand that if I don't leave now you'll convince me to stay, so I should go back to what I do, and you go back to what you do, and we'll forget this ever happened." And with a sad smile and a loud crackling noise, Draco Malfoy disappeared from Harry's life again.