All the Answers - Chapter 26

Disclaimer - It's not mine. Really. J.K. Rowling's the brilliant mind behind HP.

Notes - Post-HBP 7th year fic, not Deathly Hallows compliant at all. This is a Harry/Draco fic, as in they are definitely together now, thus the M rating. Beta'd by the wonderful Lori!

"Okay," Draco said, lowering his wand from where it had been pointed directly between Mr. Granger's eyes. "That should do it." His hand twitched slightly, and all at once Mr. Granger seemed to reanimate, as if he'd previously been in some sort of trance. Harry and the others watched him warily as he blinked several times and then looked around at his wife.

"Well, we'd probably better get going, don't you think?" he asked, and Harry felt some of the tension disappear from his shoulders. He'd been half worried the man's voice would seem robotic and forced, but he didn't sound as though anything out of the ordinary was happening.

"You're right, we don't want to miss our flight," Mrs. Granger said. She turned and swept Hermione up in a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead before releasing her. "Oh, but – my plants!" she said suddenly, glancing in the direction of the kitchen. "I forgot to get someone to water them!"

Hermione quickly reached for her mother's wrist to get her attention. "I'll do it, mum, no worries."

"Nonsense, darling, you'll be back at school soon," Mrs. Granger said. "I'll just ring Judy. She's normally the one who comes over. I'm sure she won't mind."

"Right, of course!" Hermione said loudly. "Ms. Judy – you already asked her! Don't you remember?" She directed a pointed look at Draco, who rolled his eyes, but the wand in his hand twitched obligingly again and the concern in Mrs. Granger's eyes faded away.

"Oh, yes," she said. "I spoke to her this morning. Well, I suppose we're ready, then." She stepped up beside her husband, smiling at him in adoration. "It's been so long since we went on holiday anywhere. I still can't believe you planned all this without me knowing!"

"I'm not sure how I managed to keep it from you, myself," Mr. Granger said cheerfully, and also completely honestly. Ron snorted lightly, but a look from Hermione quickly shushed him.

"Alright, well if you're ready, I can take you to the airport," Charlie spoke up, and both Mr. and Mrs. Granger blinked at him. "Er – the Wizarding way. It'll be quicker."

"Wizarding way," Mrs. Granger repeated. "Oh, that'll be fun!"

Harry moved closer to Charlie, tugging on his sleeve and keeping his voice low. "When you get back to Grimmauld Place," he started to say, noticing Ron lean in on Charlie's other side, "tell the others they need to start putting other places under the Fidelius Charm, too. Safe houses, decoys, homes of people in the Order – anything."

Charlie nodded. "To throw the Death Eaters off the scent, right? One step ahead of you, mate. Bill and Fleur are due back from France next week; I've already owled him about doing just that."

"Can we get Hermione's fireplace hooked up to the Floo network?" Ron asked. "Or is that – I guess the Ministry would know about it, huh?"

"They would," Charlie said slowly. "But we might be able to get a private network going without notifying them. I'll look into it."

"One more thing," Harry said, as he looked across at Draco and watched him drag a hand across his perspiration-dotted forehead. "We may need you to give someone else access here. But you can't tell anyone who."

Charlie's brow furrowed. "Alright…" Ron took a slight step back and seemed to be holding his breath as Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Who is it?" Charlie asked.

"Well…" Harry hedged. "It's – he's–"

"Look, unless it's a Death Eater or something–" Charlie broke off, his jaw hanging open for a second before he let out a noisy breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Christ, it's a Death Eater, isn't it? Merlin's saggy tits, Harry, you've already got one you're keeping around, is another really necessary?"

"Malfoy doesn't count," Harry and Ron said simultaneously, though Ron sounded far more resigned where Harry sounded forceful. "And anyway, Dumbledore trusted this man," Harry continued. "He's one of the few people who can really help us. We have to be able to contact him."

"Who is it, then?" Charlie asked.

"…Professor Snape…" Harry mumbled, but Charlie heard him anyway and his eyes bugged out a bit.

"Snape – but isn't he the one who…?" He gestured feebly in Draco's direction.

"He killed Dumbledore for Malfoy," Harry confirmed, nodding. "Only because Dumbledore asked him to. It's a long story, I can tell you more later if you really want to know."

"No," Charlie said faintly. "No, no. I'll take your word for it. Mum reckons he's still the Secret Keeper for Grimmauld Place, anyway."

"He is," Ron said helpfully. "Only a couple people are in contact with him. Moody and, uh – Dumbledore's brother."

Charlie still looked more than a little boggled. Harry cleared his throat. "Er…you might want to get Hermione's parents to the airport."

"Right!" Charlie said quickly, latching onto the change in topic. "Right, we should go." He herded the Grangers away from whatever conversation they'd been having with Draco and Hermione, and grabbed the bags that had hastily been packed for them. "I'll be in touch," he said to Harry, as Hermione said her goodbyes one more time, and then seconds later the three of them were gone.

Hermione instantly looked over at Draco. "Still alright?"

Draco nodded slowly. He was a bit pale. "Still alright. Would you mind showing me where I'm sleeping? Think I need a bit of a lie-down."

"I'll take him," Harry said, planting his palm on the center of Draco's back, right between his shoulder blades, and directing him toward the stairs. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Night, Harry," Hermione said softly, a worried look in her eyes as she watched Draco.

Harry led him up to their bedroom, his stomach doing a little somersault when he pushed open the door and caught sight of only one bed inside. Draco stared at it, then at Harry, and when neither one moved nor offered up any sort of explanation, he said, "Oh, are we sharing?"

"Hermione's house isn't as big as Grimmauld Place," Harry said, by way of explanation. His face felt warm. "Er, but I can sleep downstairs," he added quickly. "If you want. On the couch."

Draco gave him a look that said Harry was being exactly as silly as he suddenly felt. "Why are you such a daft git?" he asked, amused.

Harry shrugged helplessly. "Honestly, I wish I knew."

"It's just sleeping in the same bed," Draco said. "We've done that before."

"I know," Harry said. He toyed absently with a loose thread on his sleeve.

Draco watched him for a moment, and then abruptly he rolled his shoulders back and straightened up. "Well, I'm very tired, Potter," he said loudly. "I think I'm going to go straight to bed, and I'll thank you not to molest me in my sleep. Because that's all I intend to do. Sleep. None of what's rattling around in your dirty mind."

"Oh my God," Harry said. "Yeah, okay, I think I can manage that."

"…You could argue a little."

"I'm sure it'll be very difficult," Harry said gravely. "I might have to tie my hands behind my back."

"Or maybe above your head," Draco mused. "You know – to the headboard."

Harry stared at him.

"…And we're clearly not there yet," Draco muttered.

A knock at the door interrupted them before Harry could even begin to form a coherent thought about all that, much less a response, and Hermione poked her head through. "Just wanted to drop off your bags," she said, handing them to Harry. "Is the room alright?"

"It'll do," Draco said. He absently reached out to fiddle with the light switch, and then made a startled sound when the room suddenly plunged into darkness. Quickly, he turned the lights back on. "Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly. "Forgot it did that."

Hermione grinned a bit, but it faded after a moment. "Thank you," she said. "For helping with my parents." She peered at Draco. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," Draco said shortly. When both Hermione and Harry adopted doubtful looks, he scowled. "The spell just took more out of me than I expected it to," he said. "Everything's fine now, honest. The spell's done and they'll remain under it until I take it off. Or die." Harry's eyes widened in alarm, and Draco snorted. "We'll aim for the former, of course."

"Of course," Harry agreed, nodding fervently.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Hermione said, smiling again. "Have a good night, boys."

"Night, Hermione," Harry said.

"Yes, goodnight, Hermione," Draco repeated politely. Then he raised his voice and added, "Try not to have too much loud sex with Weasley! Remember you have guests right across the hall!"

Harry heard Ron give an indignant squawk a room away, but Hermione merely gave Draco a sly little smirk. "Same goes to you two," she said. "Might I suggest a silencing spell? They really come in very handy."

"Says the expert, I'm sure," Draco said with a grin, while Harry proceeded to die of mortification.

"Hermione," he groaned. "Can you not? I like to pretend you're still virtuous and unsullied!"

"Oh, Harry, really," Hermione said, a touch exasperated. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Sex is a very natural thing, there's no reason to–"

"Oh my God," Draco said, reaching for the door. "Quick, shut her out before she sucks all the fun out of shagging." He practically slammed the door shut in Hermione's face, but they could hear her laughing as she crossed the hall to her bedroom.

Harry slumped back against the wall. "My brain," he groaned. "Whatever happened to their, er – extracurricular activities being a topic of discussion that is off limits?"

"I'm not sure," Draco said. "Can we please go back to that?" He held up his wand like it was a judge's gavel. "I hereby vote to reinstate the aforementioned rule that there shall be no discussion whatsoever of anything that happens behind closed doors between one Hermione Granger and one Ronald Weasley. Members of the Wizengamot in agreement, say aye!"

"Aye!" Harry said quickly, raising his own wand.

"Then the vote is unanimous," Draco declared. "This rule shall officially go into effect immediately following the closure of this trial. Which is now. Meeting adjourned!" He lowered his wand, propping his hands on his hips and lifting his chin in Harry's direction. "There," he said haughtily. "Problem solved."

Harry grinned and reached out with both hands, circling them behind Draco's neck and leaning in to kiss him. Draco made a soft, surprised sound, and he blinked owlishly at Harry when he pulled back. "You are such a dork," Harry said, and Draco's eyes promptly went from wide to narrow.

"If by dork you mean sexy and incredibly suave," he said, flicking some hair out of his face.

"Sure," Harry said. "We'll go with that. Now come on – bed."

They changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, hitting only one minor roadblock when they both tried to claim the same side. Harry eventually caved and let Draco curl up on the right side of the mattress. Harry took the left and lied there, still as he could, for about thirty seconds, before he decided to stop being ridiculous and rolled over to sling an arm around Draco's waist.

Luckily, Draco only tensed up a little bit. "…Hello," he murmured, resting a hand on Harry's arm. "Getting cozy, are we?"

"I like touching you," Harry admitted to the back of Draco's neck. "Also, I like sleeping on my side and it seemed stupid to face away from you."

"Wasn't complaining," Draco said. Harry felt him relax in increments, until eventually he released a long, sleepy sigh and inched backwards in Harry's embrace. "Just don't fling yourself out of bed in the morning when you remember who you're sleeping next to and we'll be fine."

Harry snorted, his breath rustling Draco's hair. "That was an entirely different set of circumstances," he said, tightening his arm. His fingers brushed against warm skin and he paused for a second before pressing them closer. When Draco didn't say anything, Harry gathered up his courage and slipped them under the thin shirt Draco wore.

Suddenly, his heart was pounding.

All he had to do was let his hand drop a few inches lower, really. Right there. There was no reason not to, and nothing to be scared of. Draco wasn't arguing. He just needed to slide his hand beneath Draco's pants and–

Draco shifted, turning his head deeper into his pillow as he got comfortable, and then he let out a quiet little snore.

Harry's shoulders slumped.

Of course.

With a soft sigh, he settled in behind Draco, keeping his arm snug in place and closing his eyes.

Maybe tomorrow.

xXxXx

The four of them settled into a routine over the next couple of days. Unfortunately, it wasn't the most productive of routines, and instead mostly consisted of Hermione doing her absolute best to persuade everyone to focus already, Ron being fascinated by every single Muggle appliance in the house that his eyes landed on, Harry attempting to pay attention to Hermione – really, honestly! – but instead finding himself constantly distracted by Draco, who was busy showing off his limited knowledge of Muggles by happily upstaging Ron at every turn as he pointed out what each of the aforementioned Muggle appliances were.

For instance:

"That's a mi-cro-wave," he said early the next morning, as Ron pushed at some of the buttons on the box-like contraption. "Potter used it to make the occasional foul meal when we were at his relatives' house over the summer."

"The meals were already made," Harry said. "I was just heating them up."

Draco waved him off. "Whatever, they were still foul."

"I'm not saying they weren't, I was just clarifying that I didn't make–"

"Foul, Potter!" Draco interrupted. "Absolutely awful! In fact, I can't believe you forced me to eat them."

"You wouldn't stop whining about how hungry you were! So I fed you, and then you wouldn't stop whining about how bad the food was!"

"Excuse you, I wasn't whining."

"You were definitely whining."

"I wasn't–"

"Dunno, mate, have to agree with Harry on this one," Ron interrupted. "You're pretty good at whinging on about nonsense things."

Harry grinned as Draco spluttered, feeling his mood lift even higher than it already was. He was feeling good this morning, which was apparently what happened when he started the day with Draco sprawled on top of him.

He had woken up to blonde hair tickling at his nose that morning, and it had taken him a few seconds to remember where exactly he was; a few seconds during which he'd swatted at the offending hair and Draco had grunted sleepily at him, before Harry had finally woken up enough to realize it was another body plastered against his own.

There'd been an elbow digging into his side and the body heat Draco had been generating was almost stifling, really. It had left Harry with an urge to kick all of his covers off – except he couldn't, because one of his legs had been trapped beneath one of Draco's and the blankets were all twisted up between them, with one side tucked firmly beneath Draco.

He'd slowly taken it all in, his lips curving upward into a small smile.

He was pretty sure it was something he could get used to.

"Boys," Hermione said, for what had to be the fifth time. "Can you please pay attention?"

Ron managed to tear himself away from where he was opening and shutting the dishwater ("Muggles use that to clean their plates and such," chimed Draco helpfully. "Because, you know, they can't use magic.") and finally went over to take a seat at the kitchen table. "What is this we're looking at?" he asked, frowning down at the parchment Hermione had spread out on the table.

"It's a copy of the Marauder's Map," Hermione said, but then her brow furrowed slightly. "…Sort of. I made it before Harry sent the map to Neville, but it's not exact." She pointed at the one-eyed witch that hid the secret passageway to Honeydukes. "Obviously it doesn't show you all the people in the castle and it doesn't give you passwords and such. No one would ever know this is a way out of the castle from looking at this map, for example."

At those words, Draco leaned forward and squinted at where Hermione was pointing. "How is that a way out of the castle?"

"Just tap the statue and say Dissendium," Ron said, grinning smugly. "It leads to Honeydukes."

"And you've used this?" Draco asked, his eyes flicking toward Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I used it to come throw mud at you in third year," he said, and Draco gaped at him.

"That's how – and you were wearing your Invisibility Cloak – that's why your head was floating around Hogsmeade!"

"Something like that," Harry said, his own grin turning a bit smug now.

Draco scowled. "And how many of these passages out are there?"

"Seven," Harry replied. "That we know of, anyway. Some don't work anymore."

"Have you used all the ones that do work?"

Harry shrugged again, but before he could answer Hermione cut in. "That's not important right now," she said, sounding far past exasperated by this point. "I thought we might be able to use this to help us figure out what Voldemort's planning to do."

"Get into Hogwarts," Ron said. "I thought we knew that much already."

"Yes, but why?" Hermione said. "And how?" She uncapped a red marker, which Draco and Ron looked at curiously, and started marking X's over all the entranceways into Hogwarts. "If he was just going to march on Hogwarts, he wouldn't need the map. If he was going to use the secret passages in, Wormtail could probably just tell him where they are. There must be something else he needs the map for."

"Maybe he wants to know who all is in the castle?" Ron suggested.

"He'll probably need to know where everyone is when he makes his move," Harry agreed.

"This map isn't complete," Draco said abruptly, and they all looked at him. He pointed at where the seventh floor was. "It's missing the Room of Hidden Things."

"The Room of Requirement," Harry said, understanding dawning. He took the marker from Hermione and added a room where it should be on the map. "My dad didn't know about it. It's possible Voldemort didn't either – until last year." Draco winced a bit, and Harry absently reached out to touch his arm, still talking. "He could be adding it to the map."

"They confiscated the Vanishing Cabinet from Borgin and Burkes, though," Hermione said. "So it's not like he could use those again to get in."

Harry frowned. "Well, then maybe he wants the room for something else."

"If he wants it at all," Ron added.

"Maybe he wants to hide something there," Draco said. "Or…maybe he already did. Maybe that's where the last Horcrux is."

"The shield is the last Horcrux," Harry said, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"But if it's not," he said. "Just…a what if scenario."

Harry shook his head. "I've been in the Room of Requirement when it's like that – when it's the Room of Hidden Things. I never felt anything weird like I do when I'm around one of the other Horcruxes."

"It's a really big room, Potter," Draco said impatiently. "It's possible you just didn't get close enough. And it's called that for a reason – there's no better place to stow something you don't want other people to find!"

"So, what, is he trying to get it back?" Harry asked. "That doesn't make sense!"

"Actually, it kind of does," Hermione said softly. "If there's something there – if – well, he knows what you're doing now, doesn't he? He knows what you're after. So…"

"…I don't know," Harry said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "It just – doesn't sound right. There's got to be something else he's trying to do."

"Do you think you can charm the map to have it show other things besides people?" Ron asked. "Maybe he's looking for something else entirely."

"Like what?" Hermione said, and Ron shrugged.

"Could be anything – just look at what we've come across there in the past six years. The philosopher's stone, the Mirror of Erised, and you can't forget the Chamber of Secrets – that's also not on the map. There could be any number of things he wants from Hogwarts."

The room went quiet for a moment. Harry sighed and pushed his hand back into his hair, wishing not for the first time that this could all just be over. Hermione got up to make herself some more tea, letting in an owl that was flapping outside the kitchen window while she was at it.

"That's a coffee machine," Draco said out of nowhere, when Ron stared for too long at the complicated looking thing sitting on the counter. Ron scowled at him.

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly. She was holding the copy of the Daily Prophet that had just been delivered, scanning one of the articles. "Do you think maybe we should just ask Professor Snape what Voldemort's plan is?"

Harry blinked. "…That would probably save us a lot of trouble, yeah. That is, if he knows."

"I've a feeling he does," Hermione said, and she turned the paper around so they could see the article she was reading. "Because he's just been made the new headmaster."

"Of Hogwarts?" Ron exclaimed, as Harry grabbed the newspaper from Hermione. "How – he's supposed to be in hiding! He's a wanted man."

"Not anymore," Harry said, reading quickly. "Apparently new evidence came to light over winter break." He made a disgusted sound and passed the paper off to Draco. "Your dad got a mention," he said, and Draco snatched it out of his hands before Harry had even finished his sentence.

"What evidence?" Ron asked.

"They've pinned Dumbledore's murder on Draco," Hermione said. "And since there were…no witnesses present," she glanced at Harry as she said this, "they're saying Professor Snape showed up at the Ministry to submit his memories for viewing."

Ron groaned. "The bloody Ministry," he said, and Hermione nodded.

"Harry's been painted as a pathological liar again," she continued. "And they're saying Professor Snape showed up on the tower to stop Draco."

"Only he was too late," Draco said, scowling down at the paper. "This is such rubbish!"

"It's ridiculous, is what it is," Hermione said viciously. "There's no explanation for why Professor Snape stayed quiet for so long, there's no reasoning behind him becoming headmaster – people are just supposed to blindly believe all of this! And they will, because everyone's too afraid to question anything right now!" She sat down heavily in one of the chairs at the table, arms crossed tightly over her chest and her lips pursed. Harry and Ron shared a look, but didn't say anything. It was best not to when Hermione got riled up like that.

"They've made my father a professor?" Draco suddenly squawked. Ron's eyebrows shot up, and Hermione huffed.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," she said in a singsong kind of voice, and then muttered, "Unbelievable."

"But – why?" Draco said. "I thought for sure – I mean, after what he did – I was positive he was dead. And now he's…teaching? This means he's in on whatever the plan is, right? I don't – it doesn't make any sense!"

"I don't understand it either," Harry said, frustrated. "I've no idea what's going on."

"I think we need to owl Professor Snape," Hermione said. "You wanted to get in contact with him anyway. We'll set up a meeting. Charlie will allow him access here, and we'll see what he can tell us."

"Sounds good to me," Ron said, leaning back in his chair and craning his head in an attempt to see into the living room. "So, are we done for now? Hermione, can I…?" He gestured toward the door, and Hermione waved him off with a sigh.

"Just go," she said tiredly, and Ron was out of his chair not two seconds later. Draco fidgeted for a second, looking back and forth between the Daily Prophet, Harry, and the direction Ron had gone, and then he succumbed to curiosity and set the paper down on the table before slipping out to follow the other boy. Hermione looked at Harry with a small, amused smile. "He's gone to eye up my dad's new video games, I guarantee it," she said. "Dad was showing him a bit before you two got here."

Harry snorted, and from the other room they heard Draco say, "That's a tele-vis-ion, Weasley. The Muggles use it to–"

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I know what a bloody telly is!"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other again and laughed.

xXxXx

A few days later, Harry found Hermione opening and closing the cabinets in the kitchen as if she thought their contents might change each time the door shut. He watched her for a moment, and then when she opened the same cabinet for the third time, he had to speak up. "…Are you looking for something?"

Hermione whipped around to face him, her cheeks coloring slightly. "No, I was just–" She walked over to the fridge this time, sighing as she eyed the nearly empty shelves inside. "We need to go shopping, is all."

"Is…that a problem?" Harry asked slowly, and Hermione gave him a faintly annoyed look.

"Have you got a lot of money readily available?" she asked. Harry opened his mouth to answer, and Hermione held up a hand before he could. "Muggle money," she clarified. "We can't exactly stroll up to Gringotts to exchange our Galleons."

"Oh," Harry said sheepishly. "Well, in that case – no."

Hermione sighed again. "I suppose we'll just have to use my mum's emergency credit card." She headed into the living room where Ron and Draco were staring, enthralled, at the television. Harry couldn't help but snicker at the display as he followed her. Draco had done his best to ignore the telly when they were at the Dursleys' that summer, but here, now, after he'd finally let his shields down around them, he clearly didn't have any problems letting his curiosity show. "Come on, Harry, you need to come with me," Hermione was saying, opening the closet by the front door and pulling out her coat.

Harry blinked at her. "I do?" he asked, as Hermione reached up and started searching around for something on one of the shelves.

"Go where?" Ron spoke up, swiveling his head around to look at the two of them.

"The store," Hermione replied. She pulled down a wallet that Harry guessed contained the aforementioned credit card. "And yes. I'm not going by myself, and those two obviously can't come."

"Why not?" Ron asked, pouting a bit. "Why can't I go to the Muggle store?"

"You'd spend too much time ogling everything and we need to be discreet," Hermione said. She picked up a pair of car keys, eyeing them thoughtfully.

Harry's eyes widened a bit. "You can drive?"

"I got my license over the summer," Hermione said, as Ron straightened up even further and leaned over the back of the couch.

"I'm coming," he said determinedly. "I won't stare at anything, I promise. Can I drive?"

"No," Harry and Hermione said simultaneously, and Ron scowled at the two of them.

"I'm a good driver!"

"Didn't you crash a car into the Whomping Willow second year?" Draco asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the television to lift an eyebrow at Ron.

"That was years ago," Ron said, though his face suddenly flamed up at the memory. "And I was driving it just fine before that happened! Wasn't I, Harry?"

"…Er." Harry coughed, averting his eyes. "You – that is. Well..." He trailed off and shrugged, and Ron let out a big harrumph and spun back around in his seat, slouching down against the cushions and crossing his arms over his chest.

Hermione rolled her eyes a bit. "I'm sorry, Ron, but we have to be quick about it and Harry's already familiar with Muggles and everything! Anyway, we're not going to drive. The car would be too obvious." She put the keys down and instead hooked her arm through Harry's. "We'll just have to Apparate. Are you ready?

"I – suppose?" Harry said bewilderedly, still wondering how exactly this task had landed on him.

"Have fun," Draco said, already focused on the television again. Harry tried to see if he recognized what they were watching, but he felt a tug on his arm and Hermione Disapparated them away before he could figure it out.

They landed in an alleyway beside what looked to be a small market. Hermione glanced around briefly before letting go of Harry's arm. "I think we're okay."

"You could have let me cast a Disillusionment charm or something," Harry said, resting his hand against the wall until he found his bearings. "Or given me time to grab my Invisibility Cloak. Rush much?"

"…I know, I'm sorry," Hermione said, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes for a second before pushing her bushy hair out of her face and tilting her head back to look at the sky. "I just needed to get out of there for a little while."

Harry's brow furrowed in concern. "Everything alright?"

Hermione nodded and pushed away from the wall, heading out into the street and away from what Harry had assumed was the store they were supposed to be going into. "Fine. Everything's fine. Do you want to grab lunch real quick? There's an excellent deli just down the way."

"Hermione…" Harry rushed to catch up with her, falling in step beside her when he did. "Are you sure we can be away for that long?" He lowered his voice, eyes darting around them. "We don't know that they aren't still watching the house."

"They couldn't have seen us leave," Hermione replied in the same quiet tone. "And without Draco, they can't track you. We won't stay out long, but – Harry, I just need some space to breathe for a minute."

Harry nodded, but he couldn't help frowning. "Are you sure you're okay? Ron hasn't done something stupid, has he?"

"Ron's always doing something stupid," Hermione said with fond exasperation. "But no, it's nothing like that. Honestly, I'm just tired of being cooped up inside for so long. I feel like I haven't properly seen the sun in months!"

"Getting a little stir crazy?" Harry asked, grinning slightly, and Hermione nodded.

"Very much so." She hooked her arm around Harry's again, smiling at him. "Also, I miss you! Lately it seems I'm always with Ron and you're always with Draco." Harry flushed a bit and Hermione laughed, bumping her shoulder against his. "Understandable, of course, but still. You should tear yourself away from him and talk to me more often."

"Hermione," Harry protested weakly. "It's not like I'm – glued to his side or something!"

"You are a bit. But it's alright. I've barely had a chance at all to talk to you about the whole thing, though!"

"…We don't have to do that now, do we?"

Hermione just gave him an impish grin and pulled him into the deli.

xXxXx

Draco managed to keep his eyes glued to the television for approximately thirty seconds before it occurred to him that Harry had just up and left him in the house alone with Weasley.

"…Did Potter just up and leave me alone in the house with you?" he asked, lip curling upward in a sneer.

Weasley gave him a flat look. "I'm sure you're really bothered by it," he said, and then his eyes abruptly widened. "Hey, they left us alone! Brilliant."

"What?" Draco sat up, watching as Weasley jumped off the couch and dashed over to mess around with the telly. "How is that brilliant? Weasley, what are you doing? Don't change it, I'm watching that!"

"You're sitting there insulting it every five bloody seconds. And besides, I've got something better. Hermione's dad was showing me – it's this thing called a video game."

"Video game?" Draco repeated, his nose wrinkling. "I'm not interested. Put the other thing back on."

"No," Weasley said simply. "We're going to play this racing game."

"…Does it involve racing brooms?"

Weasley looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "It's a Muggle game, you twit."

Draco scowled. "Well, what the hell are you supposed to race with, then?"

"Karts!" Weasley said cheerfully.

"…Karts."

"Yeah. Now if I only I could…get it to bloody turn on."

"Do you mean, like – carriages? Are they pulled by something? Not thestrals, obviously – being a Muggle game and all – but...?"

"No, they're more like small cars."

"What the hell is it with you and cars?"

"I like them!" Weasley said defensively. "You've never even been in one, have you?"

"Of course not!" Draco exclaimed, as though the mere idea was offensive. The television screen flashed then, and suddenly an odd, three-dimensional looking letter N popped up. It floated around for a bit, while Weasley let out a triumphant sound and messed around some more. Draco wondered what exactly he was doing, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want Weasley thinking he was actually maybe-possibly-kind of interested in this…video game thing.

"Okay, that should do it, I think," Weasley said, sitting back on his heels. They watched as the screen went black, and then a gold-lettered word popped up.

"…Nin-ten-do," Draco read, but before he could question it, the word disappeared and the television blared loudly to life with too-cheerful sounding music and weird looking, cartoonish characters that vaguely reminded Draco of the old Martin Miggs comics he used to read under the covers of his bed so his father wouldn't know.

"Yes!" Weasley cheered. "It worked!"

Draco frowned. "Alright, look, I'm going to need some kind of alcohol in me straight away if I'm going to attempt to play some dodgy looking Muggle game. Do you think Hermione's parents have got anything hidden away?"

Weasley looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he grinned. "Better," he said. "I've still got half a bottle of Firewhiskey left."

xXxXx

"Are you sure it's a good idea to leave those two alone together for so long?" Harry asked, as they walked back along the path to the market.

Hermione shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "They'll be fine," she said. "They get along better than they'll ever admit."

"Bit weird, really," Harry said idly.

"No weirder than the two of you dating."

"…Fair enough." Harry sighed. "Sometimes I still can't wrap my head around it. I mean, not that we're – dating. But that he's the same bloke I couldn't stand for over six years."

"It almost makes sense, in a twisted sort of way," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Not that I ever would have guessed, but in hindsight, well… You always did react rather…strongly to each other. Oh, and last year. Don't even get me started."

Harry flushed and tried to keep from scowling too much. "Why is it always last year that gets brought up? I knew he was up to something, that's all! And I was right, wasn't I? Why doesn't anyone remember the other five years before that when he couldn't bloody well leave me alone? If anyone was harboring some sort of secret crush, it was him!"

Hermione laughed lightly and patted Harry on the arm. "Does it really matter at this point? Don't be so defensive. What's important is where things stand now. The past is the past." She tossed her drink into a trash bin as they walked by, and then her brow furrowed slightly. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it would be nice to get some sort of apology out of him for being such a prat when he was younger, but I'm not getting my hopes up."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, that's likely." He dragged a hand through his hair, looking skyward for a moment. "Sometimes I feel like things are moving too quickly between us. Except…" He huffed, feeling a mixture of frustrated and flustered. "Well, except things aren't really moving quickly at all. And–"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted gently. "It's still January. It's not even been a month."

"A month?" Harry barked out a short laugh. "Hermione, it's barely even been two weeks, let alone a month. But at the same time, this – the two of us – we started…" He waved a hand around aimlessly. "I don't even know. In the fall. Forever ago. But we haven't done anything since, and I want to, but it's all – weird and I get nervous because he's a guy, or – well, no, I feel like it should be weird, or different, but it's not, it actually seems like it could all be pretty easy, and that's. That's kind of – scary." Harry looked at Hermione almost pleadingly, not even realizing that he'd stopped walking and was having this outburst in the middle of the sidewalk. "I mean, is this something I should have noticed before? Should I have picked up on it at some point? This sort of thing can't just suddenly happen, can it? Hermione…am I…?" He stopped, unable to say it, and Hermione let out a soft sigh.

"Gay?" she supplied, and after a moment, Harry nodded. Hermione stepped closer to him and reached out to take his hand. "That's just a label," she said. "You can be whatever you want to be, Harry, whatever you're comfortable being. You don't have to explain anything to anyone."

"…Even how I'm suddenly gay for Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked wryly.

"Even how you're suddenly gay for Draco Malfoy," Hermione agreed, laughing.

Harry started walking again, keeping his hand curled around Hermione's. "Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure people will want an explanation for that one."

"People," Hermione said with a scoff. "Who cares? After what you're doing for them, you don't owe them anything at all. You can do whatever makes you happy, Harry. And if it involves Draco, well. We know he's capable of being a halfway decent bloke."

"I guess…"

"As for being nervous–"

"Oh, you don't have to–" Harry started to say, but Hermione shot him a look and he shut up, sulking.

"As I was saying," Hermione continued. "That's completely normal. After all, you and Ginny never…" She looked at him, raising her eyebrows, and Harry quickly shook his head.

"No," Harry said immediately. "No, no. We definitely never." He hesitated. "But – honestly, I never really got nervous with her. Shockingly," he said, snorting. "I was a terrible mess with Cho."

"You didn't really know Cho all that well," Hermione said. "But you were already friends with Ginny." She shrugged. "I suppose it's different with everyone. Each relationship is unique."

"This one is definitely unique."

Hermione hummed noncommittally. "…I think it's because it's Draco," she said.

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're so used to competing with him," Hermione said. "And you've always kept your walls up around him before. You hated embarrassing yourself in front of him." She shrugged. "Maybe this is kind of an extension of all that?"

Harry slowed to a stop again, eyes wide as he stared at Hermione. "You think I might be afraid of embarrassing myself?"

"Sex strips away all the walls. You're never more vulnerable than you are in bed. But Harry…" Hermione stepped in front of him so she could face him straight on, and she grinned. "Sex is also fun."

"Oh my God – Hermione, please!" Harry said, his face burning. He tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let him.

"I'm serious!" Hermione said, laughing. "Come on, I know you did enough with Ginny that–"

"Right, yes! Okay, alright, we did," Harry said quickly. "Merlin."

"And it was fun, right?"

"Obviously," Harry muttered.

Hermione leaned in, still grinning. "And intimate, right? Being with her that way, a way that's so private, just the two of you–"

"Yes, alright?" Harry interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was all of that, but – what are you getting at?"

"Don't you want that with Draco?"

Harry threw up his hands, dragging Hermione's with him. "Yes!" he exclaimed. "Of course, I do! I – oh." He paused, blinking at Hermione, and she laughed again and kissed him on the cheek.

"Let go," she said softly. "You've nothing to worry about. You've got Draco Malfoy head-over-heels for you."

"That might be a bit of an exaggeration," Harry said dryly. He let Hermione start them moving again, brow furrowing as he considered what she saying.

"I'm not so sure," Hermione said lightly. "I've seen him staring at you."

Harry flushed again, and he couldn't stop a pleased grin from working its way onto his face. "…He does stare, doesn't he?"

"Yes. A lot," Hermione said, looking amused.

Harry chuckled, and was quiet for a moment. "So – just let go, huh?"

"I think you'll be very pleased with the results if you do. But," Hermione added quickly, "only go as far as you're ready to. Letting go and rushing into too much are two different things."

Harry nodded and let his grin widen, his shoulders suddenly feeling a little lighter. He gave Hermione's hand a squeeze. "Thanks, Hermione."

She squeezed back, smiling up at him. "Just do me a favor?"

"Yeah?"

"If you get married one day–" Harry tripped over nothing and stumbled, but Hermione blithely carried on. "–don't take his last name. Harry Malfoy just doesn't sound right."

"Is that even legal in the Wizarding world?" Harry asked, slightly hysterically. Hermione frowned, and Harry instantly regretted asking. Fuck, he could see the badges now. "Never mind," he said quickly. "Not important – so, you're not worried at all that Ron and Malfoy are going to go snooping through all your parents' stuff looking for exciting Muggle things while we're gone?"

"Oh, God," Hermione said, her face going a shade paler. Luckily, that seemed to distract her from their previous conversation topic and she sped up, keeping her grip on Harry's hand to tug him along. "Come on, no more dilly-dallying! We just need to get in, get what we need, and get home."

xXxXx

"How do you suppose they get this to work?"

Weasley looked up from where he was trying to figure out the buttons on his game controller and glanced over to where Draco was staring intently at the light switch on the wall. "What, the lights?"

"Yes," Draco said. He reached out and flicked the switch off. "The lights." He flicked it back on.

"Well…they use eckeltricity, don't they?"

"Eckel – what?" Draco frowned. "That doesn't sound right. Are you sure?" He took a sip from his cup, which was filled with a very generous portion of Firewhiskey.

"Of course I'm sure." Weasley smirked in his direction. "Surprised you didn't know yourself. Aren't you suddenly the expert on all things Muggle?"

"No. I would never call myself an expert." He pushed his hair back, giving Weasley a haughty look. "I just know more than you do."

"Except for what eckeltricity is."

"That seems like a minor detail, really." Draco flipped the switch again, and Weasley made an annoyed sound.

"Would you just keep the bloody lights on?"

Draco smirked. "Say please." Weasley scowled at him and took a large gulp from his own glass of Firewhiskey instead. "Have you figured that out yet?" Draco asked, switching subjects abruptly and going over to stand behind Weasley so he could peer over his shoulder. Or try to. Weasley was taller than him, so he ended up having to shift around to get a good view of the controller thing. Weasley turned with him, though, keeping his shoulder blocking Draco's view, which was just rude.

"No, I haven't," Weasley said, turning even further until he had to stop because of the cord attached to the controller. He settled for shoving Draco away instead. "Go turn the lights back on!"

"No need to get physical, you great brute," Draco grumbled, but he did as told. He hovered by the door for a few minutes while Weasley wrestled with his game, but that quickly grew boring, so he spoke up again. "Hey, Weasley, did you ever read those Martin Miggs comics?"

"Yeah, 'course," Weasley said, without turning around. "Who didn't?"

"My father didn't approve. I had to sneak them into my bedroom."

Weasley snorted. "I somehow find that extremely not surprising," he said, and then suddenly straightened up. "Alright, get your arse over here. I think I've finally figured this out." He tossed Draco another controller, which Draco stared at blankly.

"Why are there three handholds? Muggles don't have three arms." He paused. "…Do they?"

"I have no idea," Weasley said. "Pick your character."

Draco squinted at the screen. "Is that supposed to be a mushroom?"

"…Possib…ly?" Weasley said, also squinting. "Who knows."

"Muggles are so weird," Draco muttered.

"Just be the bloke in green. He's probably a Slytherin."

"He's wearing overalls," Draco said, aghast. "He must be mad. Martin Miggs used to wear overalls!"

"Just pick, Malfoy!"

"Alright, don't get your knickers in a twist, Weasley. I'll just be this dragon fellow."

"That's not a dragon, he's got a shell on his back," Weasley said. "He's just a big turtle or something."

"He looks like a Hungarian Horntail, he's a dragon."

Weasley rolled his eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say." He clicked through a couple more screens, and then leaned over to point at Draco's controller. "That button makes you go. You're on the bottom."

Draco looked affronted. "I most certainly am not. I'll have you know I'm a very dominant person, extremely manly, and when Potter and I finally do it I'm going to be on top!"

Weasley stared at him, the tips of his ears turning red, and Draco watched in fascination as the color slowly bled into the rest of his face until he looked like a giant tomato. Neither noticed that on the television, the race had started without them. "I meant," Weasley bit out, jabbing a finger at the screen, "the game. You complete and utter ponce."

Draco blinked. "…Oh," he said sheepishly, and then quickly took a large gulp of Firewhiskey. "I knew that."

"Fucking hell," Weasley whined. "My brain. Augh, I did NOT need that mental image. Jesus, Malfoy, you're such a tosser! For fuck's sake!"

"Oh, get over it," Draco said. He hesitantly prodded at the button on his controller Weasley had pointed out, and let out a delighted sound when his character on the telly moved. "Look, I'm beating you," he declared, even though his kart had only moved all of an inch.

"What?" Weasley looked back at the television and cursed, quickly starting his own kart and zooming past Draco's in the process.

"…Hey!" Draco shouted, rushing to catch up. His character slammed into the back of Weasley's, sending him spiraling off the track, and Draco burst out laughing. "Okay, okay," he said. "How's this – loser has to finish off their glass. We'll fill up again in between races."

Weasley growled, his eyes focused on the game. "You're on!"

xXxXx

"So, I was thinking," Hermione said, as she tossed a bag of crisps into their basket. She lowered her voice. "About this whole Hogwarts thing."

"What about it?" Harry pulled a box of cereal off the shelf, recognizing it as a brand Dudley used to eat all the time that Harry hadn't been allowed to touch. "Can we get this?"

Hermione frowned. "It's full of sugar."

"So?"

"Oh, fine, toss it in."

Harry gave a mental cheer and added it to their quickly growing selection of food. "What about Hogwarts now?"

"Well, it has to do with what Ron said. About how maybe Voldemort is actually looking for something – I think he might be right."

"You think he wants something that's in the castle?" Hermione nodded, and Harry's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Remember what we spent half the summer researching?"

"…Artifacts that the Founders might have left behind?"

"Exactly," Hermione said. "And you told us that Dumbledore said the only remaining item of Godric Gryffindor's is his sword." Harry still looked confused, so Hermione continued, "Harry, the Sword of Gryffindor is at Hogwarts!"

"Yeah, but…Hermione, Dumbledore also said only a true Gryffindor could've pulled that out of the Sorting Hat–"

"He doesn't need the Sorting Hat to get it," Hermione said. "According to Terry Boot, it's hanging in Dumbledore's – I mean, Professor McGonagall's office."

"Terry Boot?" Harry repeated incredulously. "When the hell did you talk to him?"

Hermione waved her hand. "No, in fifth year! When we were meeting at the Hog's Head, remember?"

"Hermione, that was two years ago!"

"Well, you were just there not too long ago," Hermione said impatiently. "Do you remember if you saw it or not?"

"I have no idea," Harry said. "I wasn't looking around much; I was a bit distracted talking to Dumbledore's portrait."

"Right, understandable," Hermione said. "But regardless, the last time there was any news about the sword, it was in Hogwarts. It's the only remaining artifact of any of the Founders, as far as we know, and we know Voldemort is interested in making another Horcrux! Harry, it all adds up. He plants his men there, he has the map – he can take over the school, have a new stronghold, and get a new Horcrux all in one move! He can sneak people in and out all day long if he knows all the secrets passageways, and if Wormtail manages to get the new map to show all the people in the castle, he'll know exactly when the best time to attack is!"

Harry stared at her, wide-eyed, and tried to let all that sink in. "Alright, take a breath," he said. "Blimey, Hermione."

"Not to mention," Hermione said, ignoring Harry entirely, "that he's putting Professor Snape in the headmaster's office. No one would even know if the sword went missing!"

Harry exhaled noisily. Well, shit. "…Right, you may have a point," he admitted. "And there are Merlin knows how many places he could hide a Horcrux in Hogwarts – if he gets his hands on the sword, we're really in trouble."

"Do you think Professor Snape would know if that's what he wants?"

"Doubtful." Harry frowned. "He's not supposed to know about the other Horcruxes, is he? If that's what Voldemort is after, maybe he'll wait until he has control of Hogwarts to get it."

"Maybe we should still ask him," Hermione said.

"I owled him days ago," Harry said. "He hasn't replied yet and I don't want to send him anything else until he does. It'll have to wait until we see him in person."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. "Hopefully that'll be soon," she murmured. She looked down, sorting through their shopping basket for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed. "We need more vegetables – Harry, what is all this rubbish? We're shopping for meals, not snacks!"

"Oi, hey, you put the crisps in there!" Harry exclaimed. He lifted up another bag. "And the chocolates, thank you."

Hermione flushed. "Oh, lay off," she said, snatching the bag out of Harry's hand. He looked amused. Hermione promptly turned her nose up and marched toward the produce aisle.

"Can we pick up Chinese for dinner?" Harry asked cheerfully, following after her.

"Only if you promise to carry all these bags for me when we check out."

"Deal!"

xXxXx

"YES!" Draco crowed, throwing his arms up the air. "I beat you, I so beat you, Weasley!"

"Malfoy, you idiot, there are three laps! The race is still going!" Weasley let out a loud whoop as his character flew past Draco's, firing a shell at him for good measure.

Draco let out a frustrated cry as his kart seemed to explode on the screen. "No," he moaned, jabbing at the 'go' button even though his character was still in the middle of righting himself. It caused his kart to spin out of control, and he shouted in irritation again. "Stop doing that, damn it! Or tell me how to do it, as well – it isn't fair!"

"Not telling you if you can't figure it out yourself," Weasley said smugly.

"But I've tried hitting all the buttons," Draco whined. "Nothing happens!"

"Because you don't have anything in your little box thing, I've told you that at least a thousand times."

Draco steered his character around a curve, his entire body bending with the motion. A line of rainbow-colored boxes were in front of him, and he slowed down, making sure to drive through one. "Okay," he said, stopping on the track entirely so he could figure this out. "I've got – ha, a lightning bolt. What's that going to do, vanquish all the evil Dark Lords riding around in these little miniature car things?"

Weasley burst out laughing like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "That would be amazing," he said. "But no – I think that just shrinks everyone."

Draco's brow furrowed, and he pushed every button on his controller until the screen finally flashed. "There!" he said triumphantly. "Finally." It didn't do him much good, though, because Weasley was nearing the finish line again, despite being suddenly small and slow. He zoomed straight through it before Draco could even get his kart up to speed.

"Now that's how you win," Weasley asked, looking ridiculously proud of himself. Draco flushed a light pink and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. Weasley smirked. "You have to say it."

"No."

"Malfoy–"

"No."

"You said you would!" Weasley cried. "That was the bet!"

"I'm not saying it!"

xXxXx

And that was how Harry and Hermione found them when they Apparated into the room a few minutes later.

"Say it," Ron growled, trying to wrestle Draco's controller away from him. "Say 'Weasley is my king', damn it!"

"I won't!" Draco twisted away, holding the controller out of reach as best he could.

"Say it!"

"Never! I refuse!"

Hermione gaped at them. "What the hell are you two doing?" she exclaimed, her voice slipping up a notch. Both Draco and Ron spun around, their faces startled, and then they broke out into identical grins.

"Hermione!"

"Potter!"

"We were just playing this game your dad showed me–"

"You have to try this, Potter, it's brilliant–"

"I'm kicking Malfoy's arse, of course–"

"You drive this Hungarian Horntail around a track and – what? The hell you are, Weasley, I've beaten you a million times!"

"You've beaten me once, you git–"

Harry was pretty sure his eyebrows were about to fly off his forehead at any moment, they were raised so high. He glanced down at the coffee table, and then nudged Hermione. "That's probably the explanation you're looking for," he said lightly, gesturing at the nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey and the two full glasses next to it.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Merlin help me," she muttered, and then looked up again. "Ronald, why is there a tie wrapped around your head? And – is that my dad's?"

Ron lifted a hand to the tie, looking vaguely surprised like he'd forgotten it was even there. Beside him, Draco snickered, although he was wearing a tie knotted to the side of his head the same way Ron was. Harry honestly couldn't even begin to fathom what that was about. He wondered how much the two of them had drunk, and hoped fervently that the bottle hadn't started out full. "This is how Martin Miggs wears his ties," Ron said, as though the answer was obvious. "I think it should be part of the new uniform at Hogwarts. We look cool, right?"

"You look like a couple of university dropouts," Hermione informed them.

"Oh, don't be such a mood killer, Granger," Draco said. "Sometimes I think flobberworms have a better sense of humor than you do." And then eagerly, he added, "Potter, watch this!" Without waiting to see if he was paying attention or not, Draco turned back to the television and started the next race, where he promptly drove his character straight off the edge of the course and into the water. "Shit! Wait, no, that's not what I wanted to show you."

"Hey!" Ron cried. "You can't start without me!" He quickly joined in, as well, and Hermione let out a huge sigh.

Harry squinted at the screen, recognizing some of the characters from games Dudley used to play. "How is it that Ron managed to pick the good guy and Malfoy managed to pick the bad guy when I'm nearly one-hundred percent certain neither of them have a bloody clue who those people are?"

"Oh, who knows," Hermione said with a groan, dropping down onto the couch.

Harry slowly sat down beside her and piled the shopping bags at their feet, watching as Draco tried to control his character with his entire body. He swayed in place, dodging out of the way of the oncoming obstacles and twisting his shoulders with every turn the kart took.

He looked utterly ridiculous, and Harry suddenly couldn't stop grinning.

"We can never leave them alone again," Hermione muttered, before she raised her voice and called out, "You're going the wrong way, Ron!"

"Ah – bollocks, that's what that means."

"They didn't get into too much trouble," Harry said, reaching for one of the glasses. "At least the house is still intact."

Hermione made a tsking sound, and then her eyes zeroed in on Harry's hand and she frowned. "Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry shrugged. "Letting go," he said simply, and then he tossed back the glass and drank half of it in one go. It burned its way down his throat, quickly adding to the warmth that had already bloomed in his stomach. He set the glass back down on the coffee table and abruptly stood up before he could change his mind. Hermione wasn't saying anything; she only watched as he took two swift steps toward Draco, then reached for his arm and spun him around.

"Hey–" Draco started to say, but his protests were quickly cut off as Harry kissed him square the mouth. Draco blinked at him once, twice, and then the controller fell from his hand as his arms flew around Harry's neck. He pulled Harry in close, making a low, needy sound in the back of his throat as he pressed against his body, and Harry's own arms immediately snaked around Draco's waist.

"–Oh my God," Harry heard Ron suddenly gasp from somewhere off to the side. "Bloody – fuck – did not need to see – Hermione, make them go away!"

"Ron, honestly," Hermione said exasperatedly, but Harry pulled back the tiniest bit and gave a minute shake of his head.

"S'fine," he said breathlessly, lips still brushing against Draco's. His hands were already slipping up the back of Draco's shirt, almost like they had a mind of their own. He met Draco's eyes, saw the want and need reflected in them, and nearly went straight back in for another kiss. But instead – "Are you extremely drunk right now?" he asked.

"Not anymore," Draco said immediately. Poor timing, however, had him suddenly lurching forward and nearly falling on Harry, but he caught himself just in time and gave a somewhat sheepish laugh. "Right, well, maybe a little, but I swear I'm sobering up quickly and please for the love of Merlin don't stop now."

"Wasn't planning on it," Harry said with a grin. He curled his fingers around Draco's wrist, and quickly tugged him toward the stairs. "We might not make it back down for dinner," he called to his other two friends. Ron promptly stuck his fingers in his ears and started singing the Hogwarts school song in an extremely loud voice, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Harry James Potter, you're washing those sheets when you're finished!" she called after them, but Harry barely heard her because he was too busy racing up the stairs.

He burst through the door to their room, quickly shutting it behind them and pushing Draco up against it. Draco was already reaching for him as Harry leaned in, and they met in the middle for an open-mouthed kiss that had all of Harry's blood rushing south so quickly he felt a little lightheaded.

Draco's hands slipped under Harry's shirt, fingers gliding over the smooth planes of his stomach for a moment before they dipped down to undo the button on his jeans. Harry's breath hitched and he pulled back just long enough to mutter, "Bed," at Draco, and then he was walking backwards, leading them both in that direction until the back of his knees hit the mattress. Draco kissed him again, hard, his tongue sweeping into Harry's mouth. He pressed into Harry until the other boy had to sit down, but even then he didn't stop, instead crawling forward until he was straddling Harry's hips, his knees digging into him on either side.

"'S about bloody fucking time," he said against Harry's mouth. He tasted like the Firewhiskey he'd just been drinking and Harry delved in for more, unable to get enough of it. His hands buried themselves in Draco's hair, but they only stayed there for a moment because the need to feel him, touch him, was overwhelming and soon enough he was pushing Draco's shirt up again.

"Sorry," Harry murmured in between kisses, his voice a low rasp. "Sorry, sorry – don't know what – what kept me." He kicked his shoes off and then pushed at Draco until he lifted enough for Harry to scoot fully onto the bed. Draco plastered his body against Harry's again as soon as he was settled, his hips grinding down against Harry's, and Harry gasped, one hand coming down to squeeze Draco's hip.

"Pants now?" Draco asked, and Harry nodded rapidly.

"Pants," he agreed, groaning when Draco thrust down against him again. Draco's hands found the front of his trousers again, going for the zipper this time, and Harry pushed himself up with one arm so he could claim Draco's mouth while he worked. Except that only distracted Draco as he kissed back, and Harry nearly let out an extremely undignified whimper when he felt Draco's fingers on his face instead. "Malfoy–"

"Glasses," Draco interrupted, swiftly pulling them off and tossing them somewhere to the side. "They're digging into my face."

Harry frowned, squinting even though he could see Draco perfectly fine at this close distance. "They were not."

Draco didn't reply, staring at him instead. Harry blinked, about to ask what the problem was, when Draco suddenly made a hungry sound and wrapped Harry up in a bruising kiss. "Fuck," he gasped a second later, pressing his forehead against Harry's, their heads bowed together as they watched Draco finally, finally release Harry's cock from its confines. "Fucking – fuck. Potter."

Harry answered him with a groan, his arm suddenly giving out so that he fell flat on his back. He tried to focus enough to get Draco's cock out as well, but it was damn hard when Draco was moving his hand like that. Harry panted, his toes curling against the mattress, and then abruptly he surged up, deciding out of nowhere that he'd rather like to see Draco on his back. Whatever objections Draco may have had about that died on his lips when Harry's fingers curled around him, and instead he tossed his head back against the pillows, his back arching up.

"Good?" Harry asked, somewhat smugly, as he jerked his hand up and down in quick, smooth motions.

Draco shuddered beneath him, his own grip on Harry loosening only briefly before he picked up the pace with renewed determination to make Harry come before he did. Harry gasped, his head falling forward and his hips thrusting against Draco's hand.

He wanted to be closer to him, Harry decided suddenly. He needed to be as close as physically possible. Through sheer will power he managed to force himself to knock Draco's hand out of the way. Draco made a whining sound in the back of his throat, probably because Harry's own hand movements had slowed for the moment, but Harry pressed close, wedged his knees just under Draco's arse, tight against him so Draco had to spread his legs wider to let Harry in, and then Harry wrapped his hand around both he and Draco together and picked up the pace.

"Shit," Draco cursed, letting his hand fall atop Harry's to help him out. Harry just grunted at him in return, unable to find the breath to even form words, let alone string enough of them together to say anything coherent. The feel of Draco against him, the way they were touching like this, skin against skin, was almost too much. He gasped and panted, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten, enjoying the way something built in his gut, slow heat that grew steadily, coming closer and closer until Harry's movements grew erratic and his blood felt like it was boiling beneath his skin.

"Come on, Malfoy," he growled, but it was Draco curling his free hand behind Harry's neck and pulling him down for a wet, needy kiss that finally sent Harry spiraling over the edge first. He came with a loud gasp against Draco's mouth, feeling like the air had been punched out of him, and Draco followed him not long after with a choked groan.

They froze together, panting against each other's mouths for a long, drawn out second, their foreheads pressed together again, and then Harry shuddered once more and collapsed on top of Draco.

"…Bloody hell," he gasped out, flopping onto his back.

Beside him Draco gave a low, tired sounding chuckle, and patted around on the mattress for his wand. "Bloody hell, indeed," he murmured, lips stretching into a wide grin. He cast a quick cleaning spell on the two of them, and then let out a happy sigh.

Harry stared dazedly up at the ceiling, his brain rushing to catch up with what had just happened. For fuck's sake, he hadn't even hesitated – apparently it really was just that easy! Merlin, to think, they could have been doing this weeks ago. Why the hell had he held off for so long? Whatever reasons he had suddenly seemed small and insignificant. And far away, like they belonged to someone else. Another Harry Potter in another life, one where he was still stubbornly refusing to admit that he liked that prat, Draco Malfoy.

He laughed, almost in disbelief, and when Draco rolled on top of him he could only grin up at him.

"Could've been doing this weeks ago," Draco said, which just made Harry laugh again because it was so fucking true.

"Believe me when I say that my current biggest regret in life is not doing this sooner," Harry said seriously. A pleased look washed over Draco's face, and Harry leaned up to kiss him. "…You realize you've still got this tie on your head, right?" he asked when he pulled back, reaching up to tug at it, and Draco abruptly went pink.

"Shit," he muttered, ripping it off. "Don't – shut up, I was pissed."

"Probably still are, a bit," Harry pointed out, and Draco scowled.

"Well, I didn't know you were going to come home all randy and such. You might have warned me."

"Didn't know myself," Harry said. "But you'd probably best get used to it now."

Draco looked as though he was considering that. "I suppose that might be okay," he said, and then suddenly he sat up and pulled at Harry's shirt. "Take this off."

"Why?" Harry asked, even as he moved to do so. Draco didn't answer at first, too busy unbuttoning his own shirt. Harry watched eagerly as each inch of pale skin was exposed.

"…Because," Draco said after a moment, which wasn't an answer at all.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, but he quickly got distracted by the scar zigzagging across Draco's chest. "…Still sorry about this," he said softly, fingers trailing lightly over the slightly raised skin.

Draco paused, shivering a bit, and then he shrugged out of his shirt entirely. "It's fine," he said. "It's possible I might have deserved it."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "No, you really didn't. I was–"

"Potter," Draco interrupted. "We've had that out already. It's fine."

"…Alright," Harry murmured. Draco leaned back down, bracing himself on one elbow above Harry. Harry watched him curiously.

"I just–" Draco started to say, before stopping abruptly. He looked suddenly embarrassed, and rather than try to put into words what he wanted, he just lowered himself completely until he was pressed half against Harry, stomach to stomach, and half against the mattress. He rested his head on Harry's shoulder. "You are a scrawny, speccy git, Potter," he said loudly. "But – I kind of like touching you."

Harry wisely didn't say anything. He settled for grinning some more up at the ceiling, and kept his arm wrapped firmly around Draco's waist as they dozed against each other.

I swear there will not be such a long wait for the next chapter! PROMISE!

Thanks for sticking with me! Any thoughts are appreciated. :D

-Maxine