Thank you for the reviews and alerts!

Part Three

Harry was awoken far too early the next morning by the sound of purring and the sensation of something hairy rubbing against his cheek. He started at the unexpected feeling, before groggily remembering the day's previous events. Oh, right. Draco Malfoy is my pet cat for a month. And he slept in my bed last night, which isn't weird at all. The room was still pitch black; Harry scrambled for his glasses on the table next to his bed, shoved them onto his nose and glanced at the luminescent alarm clock next to his wand. It was seventeen minutes past six. Harry groaned, roughly shoved an undeterred Draco away from him, and rolled over in bed, desperate for another hour's sleep before he had to get up for work.

He should have known that would be impossible. Draco continued to nip, paw, and rub against Harry until he yelled, "Fine!" and tossed off the duvet, got out of bed, and threw on his dressing gown, before heading down the stairs to make the breakfast that Draco so clearly wanted. Draco followed instantly, purring loudly, and almost tripping Harry over at the top of the stairs.

"I will kick you if you do that again," Harry told the cat firmly. "That's if you've not sent me flying down the stairs and broken my leg first." They entered the kitchen. Harry sleepily filled the kettle and placed it onto the stove, changed Draco's drinking water, and filled his food bowl with kibbles. Then, stomach dry heaving slightly at the sight, he flicked his wand at the litter tray at the end of the kitchen and said, "Evanesco." He breathed a sigh of relief as the litter and its contents Vanished, then he cast another Cleaning Charm to give it a good clean, and added more litter. Only thirty more mornings to go, he thought to himself grumpily, as the kettle on the stove whistled. Harry threw some instant coffee granules into a mug and poured on the boiling water. He sat down at the table, and looked over at his feline house guest. And swore loudly.

Draco had not touched his kibbles. Indeed, Harry thought, the bloody cat actually had the audacity to glare at him.

"Kibbles not good enough for the great Draco Malfoy, huh? Fine. Starve," he yelled, his temper rising, then stormed back upstairs to the bathroom. The day had not started well, he thought, as he brushed his teeth and switched the shower on. The hot water had the desired effect, however, as it cascaded over his naked body, soothing his tense muscles and fully waking him up. He allowed himself the luxury of a full twenty minutes under the spray before he reluctantly rinsed the soap suds from his body and hair and shut off the water. He dried himself roughly with a towel and dressed quickly in his Auror robes. He made his way back to the kitchen, where Draco still sat, his tail swishing in great annoyance, but he had a sad expression on his feline face. The bowl of kibbles was still untouched. Harry felt himself give in. He guessed years of being underfed at the Dursleys had made him a pushover when it came to food, and he couldn't bear to see the cat go hungry, even if he did have a bowl of perfectly edible, if admittedly horrible, cat food at his feet.

"OK," he said. "But this is the last time, alright? You'll bloody well eat Whiskas tonight or you won't eat." He didn't believe the words himself as he began to scramble a couple of eggs in a pan with some double cream, and decided that the Ministry could sodding well pay for his pompous guest's food bill while he was here too. He slid the mixture onto a clean saucer and placed in front of the cat, who attacked the eggs greedily, as if he had not eaten for days, his white neck stretched as he ate from the plate. Harry smirked.

"Accio collar," he said, and the red and gold strip of glittering fabric that he had purchased the day before slammed into his hand. Harry opened it and adjusted the strap. While Draco was still eating, Harry slipped it around his neck.

"Perfect. Just like a proper little Gryffindor," he said with a smile. Draco continued to devour his food, apparently unaware of his new accessory. Harry shot a Warming Charm at the cold cup of coffee on the kitchen table, gulped it in four mouthfuls, and unpeeled a banana, which he ate while he read his copy of the Daily Prophet that had been delivered when he was in the shower. Peterson and Brockway's arrest had made the news. Kingsley had somehow managed to keep Draco's name and situation out of the paper, but Harry had been credited as the Auror responsible for the arrest.

"I'm in the paper over our case," he said to Draco when he'd swallowed his mouthful of banana. He looked up. Draco had finally finished eating, and was now busying himself with grooming. Harry watching with a mixture of amusement at interest. Draco methodically washed every inch of his sleek snowy body he could reach with his pink, sandpaper-rough tongue: his paws, tail, his back, his stomach, and between his legs…

"Oh," said Harry in embarrassed surprise. "You can, um, lick your own dick then." He tried not to stare for a few seconds, then added, "Lucky bastard." He made his way into the living room then, tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace, and went to work.

This pattern continued for the next four days. Harry had finally abandoned his half-arsed attempt to feed Draco the cat food on the third day, and had delivered the huge bundle of unopened Whiskas and kibbles to the RSPCA where Draco had been 'rescued' to so many times; a thank you, he said, for looking after his cat, and would the food come in handy to them? The staff at the Ark thanked him for his generosity, and Harry felt glad that the food wouldn't go to waste, at least.

Draco was, Harry thought, possibly the best fed cat in London. He had had scrambled eggs for breakfast every morning and had dined on poached fillet of cod, grilled chicken breasts, and pan-seared pork tenderloins in the evenings, in addition to the rump steak he had eaten on Monday. He was also having lamb cutlets for dinner that evening. Harry had explained the situation to Kingsley, using more than a little emotional blackmail as he did so, and Kingsley had reluctantly agreed to fund Draco's extravagant food bill for the month. And if Harry was taking advantage of it too, well, he considered it only a fraction of what he was owed for actually looking after the cat in the first place. He had eaten better in the past week than he had for ages; usually it was dried noodles or a takeaway in the evening for him.

He arrived home and stepped out of his fireplace at exactly five on Friday evening, feeling pissed off and sore. Robards, in a spiteful fit of revenge for Harry's failure to inform him that one of his Aurors was an Animagus, had assigned Harry the task of training the new recruits in jinxes, and by 'training', Robards meant 'volunteering to be hit by them'. Harry was tired, hungry, and just wanted a long, hot soak in the bath and his bed. He was extremely glad it was Friday and he wasn't working the weekend shift this week.

"Lo, Draco," he said softly to the bundle that was curled up sleepily on the sofa by the fire, evidently having been awoken by Harry's arrival.

"Meow," Draco said in reply. He yawned, stretched out his paws and arched his back, before curling back up into a ball and falling back to sleep. Harry chuckled.

"You just stay there and sleep. I expect you've had an exhausting day," he said drily. He peeled off his sweaty Auror robes and headed to his bedroom, tossing the robes into the laundry basket on his way.

He had just finished running his bath, with a special bubble bath containing eucalyptus, lavender, and essence of Dittany (and which he'd rather die than admit to Ron he used), when Draco came tearing into the bathroom. Harry quickly fastened the towel around his bare midriff.

"Look," he said, "just because I have to look at you washing your own bits doesn't mean you get to see mine, alright? Go back downstairs or something, while I have a bath. I'll cook dinner later."

"Meow!" Draco said. He sounded slightly frantic, and looked agitated. Harry's instinct prickled.

"OK," he sighed. "Give me a second." He unwillingly threw his dressing gown back on, stared wistfully at the hot, bubbly water, and headed back downstairs.

He saw straight away what had upset Draco. Hermione's head was in his fireplace.

"Harry!" she said, before Harry had a chance to get a word in edgeways, "why aren't you ready? We are supposed to meet in ten minutes. And did I just see a white cat in your living room?"

Harry stared blankly at her. Meet? His confusion clearly showed, however, as Hermione sighed deeply.

"Oh, Harry, you forgot, didn't you?" she said. "I told Ronald that Robards has been working you too hard this week, what with Malfoy confined to his Manor with flu, and that perhaps we should postpone this evening, but he insisted that a night out would be good for you." She looked miserable. "I'll tell Ron you can't make it then, shall I?"

Harry ran through his internal Filofax that had been his week. Wednesday, meeting with Robards. Thursday, send official yet untruthful Ministry owl to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, informing them that their son is away on secret Auror work and currently un-contactable. Friday… bugger. Friday, dinner with Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley. Harry groaned inwardly. He had completely forgotten. It was on the tip of his tongue to agree to reschedule, but the look on his friend's face, combined with the fact that he'd had a very long, strange week, and dinner with two of his favourite people seemed like a really lovely idea, meant he fought the refusal back.

"No, Hermione, it's fine," he said, a genuine smile on his face. "I really want to see you both. But I am really tired. Would you mind coming here instead? We can get a Chinese or something."

"Of course not," Hermione beamed. "Oh, and you don't mind if I bring a friend from work, do you?" Harry opened his mouth to say, actually, he did mind, but Hermione shot him that manipulating puppy-dog expression again and he found himself giving in and agreeing. Merlin, he was even too tired to stand his ground.

"Give me an hour. Floo through at half seven," Harry replied. Hermione nodded, and her head disappeared from his fireplace. Harry swore loudly, stomped upstairs and emptied his bath, and jumped in the shower quickly instead. Five minutes later, and hair dripping droplets of water all over his wooden floor, Harry began manically applying Cleaning Charms to his grubby house. He was normally fairly house proud, but he just hadn't had the time or inclination for housework this week. At twenty-eight minutes past seven, he stood in his living room, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and shirt, his hair was combed and as tidy as it ever was, and his house was free from a week's worth of Daily Prophet newspapers, dust and dirt. He had even changed the litter again and Scourgified the tray, despite doing so that morning. He noticed with a wince that he was already more than halfway through the huge bag.

At exactly half past seven, the flames in his fireplace roared and Ron, followed swiftly by Hermione and a woman he didn't know, entered his house. The woman was elaborately dressed in a black cocktail dress which had a low neckline- offering more than a hint of cleavage- black stiletto shoes, and her face was heavily made up. Around her neck she wore a string of pearls, and had obviously gone to a lot of effort with her appearance, which Harry thought was completely over the top, given the fact that they were just getting a takeaway in his house. Harry could smell her perfume- spicy and perhaps citrusy- from across the room. It was overpowering, overly feminine, and Harry found it very unpleasant. With sickening comprehension, he realised that his friends were trying to set him up with the woman. He glared at Ron, who had the grace to look abashed. Hermione gave him a quick hug he didn't return then beckoned him over to meet Hermione's companion.

"Harry, this is Jaqueline Samuels, who works in DMLE with me. Jackie, this is Harry Potter."

The woman giggled and blushed as she offered her hand to Harry, who politely shook it rather than kiss it, as she had clearly wanted him to do.

"I know who you are of course, Harry," she gushed, and giggled again and fluttered her eyelashes as him. Harry stared at her and blinked, wondering why the fuck Hermione had brought a bloody fangirl into his home. She held his hand for a few seconds longer than etiquette demanded, and Harry had to forcibly pull it out of her grip.

"Um, right. Drinks!" Ron announced, obviously sensing danger. He disappeared into Harry's kitchen and reappeared with a bottle of wine and glasses for the ladies, and a six-pack of Kronenbourg for him and Harry.

"Mate," he said. "Why is there a cat's litter tray in your kitchen?"

Draco's timing was impeccable, Harry had to give him that. Ron's words were barely out of his mouth when he slinked into the room, clearly looking for a sofa to curl up on. He caught sight of the stranger and swished his tail in warning. Jacqueline squealed as she spotted Draco, causing Harry to shiver as the shrillness of her voice permeated his brain, and bent down and scooped the white cat into her arms.

"Oh, you're just so precious," she cooed, as she brought Draco up to her face and clucked at him. "I could just eat you, I could, oh yes, you're so- OW!" She dropped Draco as, clearly irritated by the woman's fussing, he swiped at her face with a paw, leaving a noticeable angry red line down her left cheek. Harry was torn between mortification and great amusement.

"Um, guess that answers your question," Harry said to Ron, and he could have sworn that Ron's lips twitched, but straightened instantly from a stern look from his fiancée. "I have a cat."

Jacqueline glared at Draco. Draco glared back.

"So, what's its name, then?" Hermione said, reaching down to scratch Draco's ears. Draco hissed in warning, which couldn't have said, 'Stay the fuck away from me' any clearer if he'd said the words aloud. Fortunately for Harry, however, Hermione appeared to be a lot cleverer than her friend and instantly heeded the warning. She calmly withdrew her hand and stood back up. "Unfriendly little creature, isn't it?"

"He can probably smell Crookshanks on you," Harry lied. "He's perfectly nice to me. And, um, he hasn't got a name yet. He's new." By now Harry was desperately wishing he had a Time-Turner and could go backwards an hour and put Hermione off coming over after all. He really hadn't thought the evening through properly at all. One tiny slip-up and Hermione would have all this figured out in a heartbeat, Harry just knew it.

"You should call him Godric," Ron said, fingering the material around Draco's neck. "He already has a Gryffindor collar on. Plus he's a cat, and lions are cats too."

Draco meowed in protest and his hair stood up on end. Harry laughed, thinking that would be exactly what he would call Draco every time the blasted animal was around his friends. He knew it would seriously piss Draco off once he was back to his human form, and that was all the more reason to do it, in Harry's opinion. Especially when Jacqueline scoffed at the idea.

"You know what, Ron? I think I will. Come along, Godric, time for dinner."

He quickly seared the lamb cutlets, feeling deeply embarrassed that his friends and Jacqueline could probably hear him cooking for a cat, and served them swiftly before returning to the living room. Thankfully, no one commented on the smell of grilled lamb coming from his kitchen, although Ron did raise an eyebrow. Harry distracted him quickly by producing the Chinese menu, and the foursome began to select dishes. Once everyone had made their selections, he disappeared to the Chinese a short walk away, and returned half an hour later with the food. Ron had collected plates and cutlery while he was gone, and he and Hermione dished the food out between the four of them. Harry put an album on his stereo, and they began to eat. He groaned inwardly when Jacqueline sat closely to him on the two-seater sofa, and shuffled closer to the armrest on his side. He noticed with utter disdain that she'd hitched up the hem of her dress to show more thigh than was usually considered decent. Harry rolled his eyes. He was so going to have words with his best friends about this.

"What is this racket?" Jacqueline asked through a mouthful of chow mein, as the music began to play.

"Muse," Harry replied. "They're a Muggle band. I think they're good."

"Celestina Warbeck is better. You can't beat A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love," Jacqueline replied. Harry was beginning to like this woman less and less. He forced a smile at her and flicked his wand at the stereo, turning the volume up on Plug in Baby. Why in the name of Merlin's gonads had Hermione thought for a second he'd even want this woman in his home, let alone his bed? They clearly had nothing in common. He picked up his second bottle of beer, from which he'd barely taken a sip, and downed the contents. If he had to endure this woman's company for the next two or three hours, he bloody well needed alcohol in his system.

Harry managed to endure the next half an hour in relative peace, until Draco re-entered the room and, spotting Harry, jumped on his lap and began to purr. Harry began to absently scratch him behind the ears and under the chin, while Draco kneaded him with his paws.

"He is a pretty cat," Hermione said. Harry wondered what Hermione would say if she knew she'd just referred to Draco Malfoy as 'pretty'.

Jacqueline had finished eating now, and her hand, scarlet nails and all, slunk across the sofa and tried to rest on Harry's knee. Draco swatted the hand away with his paw. He clearly liked the woman about as much as Harry did. Harry chuckled, but Jacqueline looked furious. She pushed Draco away roughly, and tried once more to grope Harry's leg. This time Draco nipped her hand, and she pulled it away sharply.

"Harry," she said sternly, "that is the third time your animal has gone for me. Can't you lock it in the cupboard under the stairs or something while you have company?" Harry laughed incredulously, but inside his fragile temper had just about snapped. Boy, had that woman just said exactly the wrong thing. The harsh intake of breath from across the room told him that both Ron and Hermione were well aware of this fact too.

"You know," he said icily, really not in the mood to play the perfect host any longer, "cats are an excellent judge of character. If they don't like someone, there's usually a very good reason for it."

Jacqueline looked completely shocked.

"Locking up is the best thing for a feral beast like that," she insisted. "It's just a nuisance."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but knew if he said something now, he'd end up saying something he really regretted. Jacqueline's words had hit a little too close to home.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Hermione said quickly, standing from her own chair and hastily placing her glass of wine and empty plate on the coffee table. "Harry, you've had a long week, and I know you're tired, and-"

"Hermione, do not put this one on me," Harry said. "You heard what she said. I'm grateful for the effort you've gone to here, sort of, but I'm perfectly capable of finding myself a date if I want one, thank you very much. And I would appreciate it if you would not invite any more strange women into my home, OK? Ms Samuels is leaving now." He picked up her handbag and passed it to her quickly. "Sorry, but I just don't think we're compatible," he added, voice laden with sarcasm.

"I don't get it," Jacqueline whined to Hermione. "All I asked him to do was lock his cat away."

Ron shot Harry a look of pure embarrassment.

"I think we should probably go too, 'Mione," he said. "Sorry, mate."

Jacqueline took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace.

"You were not I dreamt you'd be, Harry Potter," she said sadly. Harry sneered at her.

"Yeah, well, you know what they say," he replied. "You should never meet your heroes. You'll only be disappointed." She disappeared. Harry turned on his friends.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione said. "At work she's always seemed so nice. She mentioned she wasn't seeing anyone at the moment, and did I know any single men I could perhaps fix her up with. She hadn't even ever mentioned you, not to me anyway. I wasn't trying to get her a date with Famous Harry Potter, I promise. I just thought you might have got on and had a good time together." Harry could see she was close to tears, and felt his anger ebb.

"It's OK," he said. "Those comments about the cupboard wouldn't have been half as bad if I hadn't have had to live in one at the Dursleys for ten years. I guess she wasn't to know anything about that. I still don't think I would like her though, even if she hadn't have said what she did." He gave Hermione a hug and she gave him a watery smile, and threw her own pinch of Floo powder into the fire.

"Bye, Harry," she said. "Goodbye, Godric. I'll bring you a toy mouse with catnip next time I come."

"He'll adore that," Harry replied drily. "Bye, Hermione."

Once she'd disappeared into the Floo Network, Ron turned to Harry.

"I had no idea Hermione had invited her until about half an hour before we arrived," he said. "I don't know what she was thinking. Sorry again, Harry."

"Just please tell your fiancée to stop setting me up," Harry said. "I don't want or need her to find me a girlfriend."

"Well, when was the last time you got laid?" Ron asked. Harry's eyes narrowed again. "Not that it matters, of course! But we just don't want you to be lonely, OK?"

"I'm not lonely. I have Godric," Harry replied automatically, then, to his surprise, realised he meant it. It had been nice, having another body around in the evenings for the last few days, even if it was Malfoy, who, when he wasn't demanding food or head rubs, was actually good company. The cat purred and rubbed against Harry's legs smugly. Ron looked at the cat.

"He is mental, that one. Those grey eyes look evil," he said. "Bye, mate. See you Monday."

Once Ron, too, had disappeared, Harry gave a huge sigh of relief and closed his fireplace. The evening had been a total failure.

"Just you and me, Puss," he said, sinking back into the sofa. Draco jumped straight into his lap and curled up. Harry stroked him affectionately. "You were superb with that cow. For the first time since this whole mess started, I am glad you're here, Draco."

"Meow," Draco said, with a contented yawn, which Harry interpreted as, 'me too.'

"You could just tell them you're gay," Ginny said on Saturday morning, once Harry had finished describing the Evening from Hell to her. "They're not going to drop dead from a heart attack, you know, and it means they'd stop trying to set you up with women."

Harry took a long sip from his overpriced toffee nut latte with whipped cream. It was nice enough, but three Galleons for one cup of coffee was ridiculous, even if there were mini marshmallows. It was why Ginny was paying, given she'd insisted on the stupid Muggle-style coffee shop in the first place for their catch-up.

"Gin, we've been over this," he said. "What's the point in telling them, when there's nothing to tell? It's not as if I've ever acted on it, is it? And what happens if Ron goes ballistic or something, and I lose him, and for what? The fictional boyfriend that I don't actually have and will probably never have?"

Ginny actually laughed then. She reached over and held his hand.

"If you think he'd be anything other than supportive, you're a fucking idiot, Harry Potter," she chastised. "I know my brother, okay? Ron loves you. He's not going to fly off the broom handle over this, and it's actually an insult to him for you think he'd disown you for it. To be honest, I'd be amazed if the possibility hadn't crossed his mind at least once before, anyway. What's the worst that could happen by telling him?"

"He could react like you did," Harry said.

"That was different."

"You flew off the broom handle," Harry replied, and absently rubbed the side of his face with his left hand. "You were furious."

"I wasn't that bad," Ginny said.

"Ginny, you punched me in the jaw!"

"Harry, love, how did you expect me to react? We were in the middle of sex, for Merlin's sake! One minute I'm sitting on top of you, bouncing up and down and yelling, 'Yee haw, I'm a naughty cowgirl, I'm riding you so hard, Stallion,', and the next thing I know you reach up, touch my boob, wince, and say, 'Oh fuck, I think I'm gay.' Of course I socked you one."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Harry replied, feeling his face reddening. "My timing really sucked, huh."

"Yes. I was close to coming, you sod. Finding out my boyfriend would have preferred it if I had a flat chest and a cock kind of killed the mood."

Harry didn't know how to reply to that, so he settled for dipping his index finger into the cream on the top of his coffee and licking it off.

"But we managed to come through that," Ginny said, squeezing Harry's hand reassuringly. "I forgave you for having the mother of all epiphanies while I was in the middle of shagging you, and we're still really close, aren't we?" Harry nodded. "Well, surely our situation was ten- no, a hundred- times worse than any situation in which you tell your best friends, right? And yet here I am, and I still have your back. It's got to be a breeze in comparison, telling Ron and Hermione, surely?"

"Maybe," Harry said, unconvinced.

"Have you really never, you know, done anything with a bloke?" Ginny pushed. Harry sighed.

"One drunken kiss with some Muggle about eighteen months ago," he admitted. "Apart from the three times you and I had sex, it's only ever just been me and my right hand." He suddenly felt really miserable. "I bloody hate being famous sometimes. I just want to be able to live my life and see whoever I want to without it ending up in the papers, or finding out that someone wants me for my name rather than who I am inside."

"Talk to your friends," Ginny said. She checked her watch. "Look, I've got to go, I'm meeting Nathan in ten minutes. But think about what I said, OK?" She put a few Galleons onto a saucer next to the bill, and stood up. She gave Harry a kiss on the cheek. "I'll speak to you soon."

"OK. And thanks, Ginny," Harry said. He watched her leave to meet her boyfriend, taking another sip of his extortionate coffee, and wondered just when Ginny had grown into this smart, sophisticated woman, rather than the gangly, slightly boyish figure he'd been attracted to at Hogwarts. His moment of coming out to Ginny was a memory that still made him cringe, three years on, and Ginny had rightfully been very hurt by it at the time. But she had been a rock to him since then, and had never yet let him down. He trusted her. Maybe keeping his sexual orientation to himself (and Ginny) had gone on long enough. Harry loathed to admit to himself he was scared of anything, but he was. Scared that Ron would flip and he would lose his best friend. But Ginny's words kept playing over and over in his mind: Ron loves you… will be nothing but supportive… insult to him for you to think he'd disown you. Harry knew Hermione would be fine, and more than likely break into a speech about the Greatest Gay Wizards in History and How They Changed Society. And Ginny was right. Harry thought over everything he and Ron had been through together: hunting Horcruxes, the loss of Fred, even the time Harry had taken a curse for Ron in the field when they were both fresh out of Auror training, and which landed him in St Mungo's for three weeks. He chastised himself for being an idiot. Yes, he decided, it was time for them to know.

And at least they'll stop setting me up with women all the time, his brain added. Which, of course, was just a delightful bonus.