(This chapter is hella short, so I'm posting it today instead of waiting until tomorrow.) :D

Part Two

25th June, 2005 - Saturday

"What are you doing here?"

Malfoy glanced up from the menu and his eyes danced with merriment. "I am having a most excellent meal, Potter, as should you. I highly recommend the Braised Rabbit. The fennel adds that perfect touch that elevates it to haute cuisine, and yet the bacon brings it back to the comfort level of everyman. And you will be pleased to note they have treacle tart. I believe that is a weakness of yours."

"You know about that?"

Malfoy smirked and swirled the white wine in his glass before replying. "I know a great many things, Harry."

"And when did you decide to it was okay to call me Harry?"

"Stop being so uptight and have a glass of wine." Malfoy took up the bottle and sloshed half a glass worth into Harry's crystal goblet.

"You didn't answer my first question. Or any of my questions." Harry knew he sounded petulant, but he picked up the glass and took a drink and then glanced at the menu. Not many restaurants offered treacle tart, and the rabbit did sound interesting.

"I most assuredly answered your first question, which was 'What are you doing here?' but I will assume that what you actually meant was 'Why did they let you out?' so I shall enlighten you as to Shacklebolt's reasoning in permitting me to fly the coop. Primarily, he wants a man brought to justice and only I can give him that man."

"Why? And who is it?" Harry picked up the menu. He had been surprised at Malfoy's owl requesting to meet him at a Muggle restaurant, and now he was even more surprised to find Malfoy treating him as though they were old friends.

Malfoy shrugged. "No one to be particularly concerned with. Simply a soulless bastard who sells illegal potions to children. Every year he plants a middleman in Hogsmeade and routes potions through him to the kids during their weekend visits. And every year the middleman is arrested—after making a tidy profit—and then is quickly replaced by the next middleman. The Ministry has no clue about the identity of the ringleader."

"And you do?" Harry cocked an eye at him and dropped the menu. He'd decided to order the cod just to prove to Malfoy that his suggestions carried no weight.

"Of course."

"Then why can't you just tell Kingsley directly? Why drag me into it?" The past four days had been pleasant and Malfoy-free. Harry would have enjoyed them more if Eddie hadn't been called off to Wales to examine a new experimental broom bristle feature. They'd barely had any time together since the Greyback incident. Eddie had been the one to call off their planned garden tour on Saturday as he'd spent the morning packing and preparing his notes.

"Because I have no intention of waltzing back into the Ministry proper, I cannot send an owl with confidential information, Shacklebolt hates me, and the only person I trust to even deliver a bloody message is you. Therefore, you." Malfoy gestured at him with a fork.

"So, I'm a messenger now."

"A well-fed messenger because I am buying your dinner." He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. The waiter appeared so quickly he might have Apparated.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy. Have you decided?"

"We have, indeed. I assume you recognise Mr Potter, here. I expect you to grant him an appropriate level of obsequiousness. What do you prefer, Potter?"

"The cod. I'll have the cod."

The waiter bowed and cast a spell so surreptitious that Harry only saw his wand for a moment. The menus vanished. "Very good, sir. An excellent choice."

"The rabbit for me, Andrew. And bring another bottle. This one shan't be enough for the two of us. I, for one, am celebrating."

Andrew bowed again and disappeared as quickly as he'd come.

"What are you celebrating?"

"I am celebrating my freedom, of course. You have no idea how pleased I am to be out of that hole. Even this never-ending rain was a welcome sight after staring at four walls for days. And I shall not take a soft mattress for granted anytime soon, I assure you. Tonight I will sleep like the dead in my own bed. Or someone else's bed. I haven't decided yet."

Harry took a gulp of wine and tried to push away the image of Malfoy in someone's bed. It was not a bad image at all, and involved long, pale limbs, and blond hair falling over Malfoy's handsome face. Harry nearly groaned aloud and reminded himself that it had been too long since he'd been laid. His plans to sleep with Eddie had fallen through; Harry had been too tired and distracted to pursue the notion, and Eddie had been preoccupied with learning about his new product.

"Life is immensely satisfying, don't you think?" Malfoy continued. "It took me years to learn that, and to acquire the ability to appreciate the small things, such as braised rabbit and the exquisite bouquet of this Brunello di Montalcino." He lifted his glass and inhaled the fragrance. "And friendship, the most priceless thing of all. To our newfound partnership, Harry, reluctant though it may be. May our association bear fruit that is, in the end, mutually beneficial."

Harry waded through the words and had to wonder how much Malfoy had already imbibed—he seemed more than a little drunk—but in the end he raised his glass, clinked it gently against Malfoy's, and drank.

"What is this message you want me to deliver?"

Malfoy shook a finger at him. "Pleasure before business. It's my mantra. Tell me how you first learned that you were gay."

Harry's expression must have reflected his internal horror, for Malfoy chuckled.

"Never mind. It was all over the papers. Quite a newsworthy event at the time, yes? I admit I took clippings. I particularly enjoy the photos of you holding your hand over your face, as though to avoid recognition. I could have warned you that would never work."

"Why don't we talk about where you've been for the past eight years, instead?"

"Too personal? I apologise. Perhaps it would be easier for you if I admitted the first moment that I discovered I was bisexual?

"You… What?"

"My first crush was on a grown woman. Her name was Violetta de'Amberleigh and she owned a tea shop in Rome. We stopped in daily while we were on holiday and she always smelled of the ginger biscuits she slipped to me whenever my parents weren't watching. She doted on me terribly and she had the most amazing green eyes. Her hair was cut short in a black bob—which might explain my later attraction to Pansy. I've always been partial to dark hair… But I digress."

Harry was fascinated. Despite his unwillingness to disclose his own sexual history, he found Malfoy's to be very interesting. Malfoy paused as Andrew returned, Levitated their meals over and begged them to enjoy their food with such fawning graciousness that Malfoy actually applauded his performance.

When he was gone, Malfoy sampled his dish, made a sound of approval, and then continued his tale. "As I said, Violetta spoiled me terribly. Looking back, I'm not certain if she merely thought I was an adorable child, or if she had some issues with paedophilia." He chuckled at Harry's expression. "Fear not, she never behaved inappropriately. I was six years old and when we returned home I drew pictures of her and missed her dreadfully. Until I met Jacques. How is the cod?"

Harry swallowed the mouthful he'd been chewing. "Delicious. Who was Jacques?"

"An exterminator. After a dry spring we had a ridiculous influx of rats. I believe I was eight that summer. My father hired Jacques to eliminate them all after several of the house-elves expressed terror of the vermin and seemed unable to rid the house of them. It was inexcusable, honestly, but what can one do? Jacques strode around the Manor and the gardens, setting magical traps and talking to me about the necessity of stamping out unwanted pests. I followed him everywhere, of course."

Harry refrained from commenting on the fact that Jacques might have helped to fuel Malfoy's later intolerance, as he wanted to hear the rest of the tale.

"Jacques was slender, manly, dark-haired, muscular, and very quick with a wand. I was hopelessly smitten and made up epic fantasies about running away with him, especially whenever I was angry at my father. Of course, he was only at the Manor the one time and I should have forgotten him, but I never did. Later, when I went to school and learned that it was more common for boys and girls to get together, I joined the ranks of the heterosexuals to more easily fit in."

Malfoy tucked into his food then, and Harry restrained his questions. He had never considered that Malfoy was anything but straight, so his admission was something of a surprise. Harry finished his fish and waited to see if Malfoy would continue. The wine was very good, although it threatened to go to Harry's head. Eddie appreciated wine, but Harry seldom drank more than a single glass on special occasions.

Malfoy finally sat back after refilling both glasses. "Then the war came and there wasn't time to indulge in amorous exploration with either sex. In fact, I spent many nights huddled in my parents' room to avoid the disgusting creatures roaming my house. Many of them found me far too attractive for comfort. I had no intention of allowing my first sexual experience to be rape. Even so, there were several close calls."

Malfoy drank deeply and Harry felt a twinge of sympathy. He had never considered how terrible it must have been, to have Voldemort and his minions living in his house. The very idea that they would have used him for their pleasure… Harry lifted his glass and took a bracing gulp.

"Water under the bridge now, of course, thanks to you. And after the war and the trials and the atrocities that followed, I found myself with plenty of opportunity to indulge in… exploration. Conclusion: Most definitely bisexual. Are you bored yet?"

"Not at all, although I'm not sure why you're telling me all this."

"Just making conversation, Harry. It's what people do."

Andrew appeared again and cleared away their dishes before producing a visual display of the various desserts. The chocolate mousse looked delicious, but Harry had to try the treacle tart, despite his need to counter Malfoy's expectations. Malfoy ordered a pear tart with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream.

"I'm pretty sure I'm just gay," Harry said when their desserts had appeared and Andrew had vanished again.

"Only pretty sure?" Malfoy asked after taking a spoonful of the ice cream.

"Yeah. I was growing more and more uncomfortable with displays of affection with… with Ginny. Kissing was okay, but when it came to touching… Merlin, I shouldn't be telling you this."

Malfoy scooped out another careful bite of ice cream with his spoon. "I already know more about you than you can possibly suspect. I've known you were gay for quite some time. Before it broke in the papers, actually."

"I— How?"

"Your first experimental fling was at a private party hosted by Quentin Quartermain. He wasn't Undersecretary then, and was possibly slightly less an insufferable prick than he is now. I notice his parties have dwindled as his aspirations have increased."

"My first fling." Harry knew he sounded strangled. No one knew about that. No one could possibly know about that unless—

"Sorry, I'm afraid Johnathon owed me a favour. A very large favour. He swore me to silence and then traded a bit of your personal history for exemption from my hexing him into an unrecognisable mass of pain."

"You traded my information? What good did it do you?" Harry was so outraged the temptation to get up from the table was strong.

"Knowledge is power. Who knows what use I might have put it to if you hadn't come out when you did? I was almost disappointed when the story broke, to be honest. I felt cheated out of an opportunity."

"You would have blackmailed me?"

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "You make that sound like such a dirty word."

"It is a dirty word! It's wrong!"

Malfoy smirked at him and ate his pear tart. "We seem to have wandered from the topic. How was Johnathon in the blowjob department? I suspect he was substandard, because I never saw much ambition in the man. Granted, he is fine to look at, if you like the half-starved blond sort, but he's incredibly lazy. I can't imagine what you were thinking."

"I was thinking that whatever we did would be private," Harry growled. He took a forkful of treacle tart and spent some time chewing. It was decadent and rich and brilliantly sticky.

Malfoy smiled at him. "I used to think your naiveté was, in fact, idiocy. I was wrong."

When Harry's teeth unstuck and he could speak again, he asked, "Was that an insult or a compliment?"

Malfoy's smile grew wider. "Yes."

oOo

Harry made his way home and reflected on his dinner with Malfoy. He was still an enigmatic prat, but he was bloody interesting. And gorgeous. Harry had no problem admitting that in his tipsy state. And bisexual, his libido added helpfully. Bloody hell, why had Malfoy decided to impart that titbit of information?

"Probably to fuck with my head," Harry muttered as he stepped out of the Floo into Eddie's—their—flat. If that had been Malfoy's intention, it was working. Harry sprawled on the sofa and allowed himself a moment to think about Malfoy. He indulged in a brief fantasy of what it might be like to kiss him, to remove his fancy clothing, one garment at a time, to—

"Harry, is that you?"

Harry sat up with a start and blinked at Eddie, who appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He held a glass of what looked like juice and smiled as he took a drink.

"Eddie! I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow." Harry shifted on the sofa, glad the back was positioned so that Eddie wouldn't catch a glimpse of the half-hard bulge in his jeans. He flushed with guilt at having been caught fanaticising about Malfoy when he had a perfectly adequate boyfriend.

Eddie made a scoffing sound. "The bristles turned out to be worthless. They were beautiful to look at and helped with aerodynamics-the brooms turned on a knut, but they didn't hold up to the speed tests. After eight hours in the air they began to shed. Eight hours! The replacement costs would have been astronomical. Pity, really, as they came in multiple colours and would have been especially popular with the pro Quidditch teams."

"Damn," Harry said sympathetically. "Well, at least you're home." Eddie's chatter had fixed Harry's little problem, enough that he could get to his feet and embrace Eddie in a welcome home hug, mindful of the glass.

Eddie leaned in for a kiss and then drew back with a frown. "Merlin, have you been drinking?"

"Ah… a bit. I was out with…" Harry broke off, unwilling to admit he'd been out with Malfoy, whose release was top secret, despite the fact that Malfoy seemed perfectly fine with being seen in a high-class restaurant. "A friend."

"A friend. Should I be jealous?"

Harry laughed. Despite his slip into wondering what Malfoy would be like in bed, Eddie had nothing to worry about. Harry would never give into temptation, and especially not with Malfoy, of all people. It would be doubly insane considering the delicate situation at the Ministry.

"No. Actually, it was more of an informant than a friend. I was passing along some information from the man to Kingsley. He didn't want to be seen at the Ministry and he's paranoid of any messages being intercepted."

Eddie moved away. His pose seemed stiff as he set the glass on the counter and began to slice a loaf of bread with a spell. "I thought you were finished with that Auror stuff. Aren't you on leave?"

"Yeah. Mostly. I don't know."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to argue with you about it. You already know how I feel. Would you like a sandwich?"

"No. I ate already."

Harry sat on the table and watched as Eddie prepared a sandwich. He asked him about Wales and was rewarded with increasingly short answers until Eddie declared that he was tired from his trip. He gave Harry a peck on the cheek and disappeared into his room, closing the door with finality.

Harry sighed and admitted that he needed to sort his life. He'd been so ready to leave the Auror Department for good, until Malfoy had blown back into his life. Now, everything seemed far less simple.

~TBC~