Gaah with the short chapter! *is guilty* I promise to keep it longer next time, lovelies!

Draco was still cursing fluently when they were on solid ground again.

"You lying, manipulative bastard! Let GO!"

He flung Potter off, glaring daggers at the grinning idiot. The Gryffindor chuckled and dusted off his jacket easily. "Well, that was fun," he said. "To tell the truth, I figured you'd put up more of a fight. Turns out a little action is all I need to bring out your cooperative side."

Draco flushed and clenched his fists. Embarrassment washed over him in waves as he realized that Potter wasn't lying. It was all true. At some point, he had been willing to do what Potter wanted and… why? Just because the prat's hands had been all over him? Good Lord, what was wrong with him?

Potter was still grinning and Draco wasn't sure he could take it anymore. He turned on his heel and started walking away.

"Oh come on! Don't be like that."

Ignore him, he told himself firmly. Just keep walking.

"Malfoy! Wait up!" The prat was running now to keep up with him. Draco huffed and quickened his footsteps. Potter kept pace with him easily. Damn his long legs!

"Seriously? The silent treatment?" The idiot actually had the gall to protest.

"Go away," Draco muttered mutinously.

"At least tell me where you're going."

"Home!" Draco snapped.

"You plan to walk home from Paris?"

Draco screeched to a halt and turned to goggle at his companion. "Paris?" he echoed incredulously. "You… you Apparated us to… we're in Paris?"

"Well it's definitely not Hogsmeade, is it?"

Draco took a sharp breath and stopped to take a good look around. From the alley he was standing in, he could see the busy streets and soft lights of the city. Elegant, old buildings sprawled out on all sides, competing with modern skyscrapers and blaring traffic. In the distance the Eiffel Tower shimmered, spiralling majestically over the city.

Oh. My. God.

"France?" Draco nearly choked, turning on Potter. "You Apparated us into another country? Are you insane?"

Potter let out a long suffering sigh. "What's the world coming to when a man is called insane for taking his fiancé to Paris?"

Draco suppressed the urge to scream. "First of all, you kidnapped me. Second of all, I am not your fucking fiancé!"

Two women stopped in their tracks to stare at them and then scurried off.

"I do so love your spirit, darling," Potter cooed, undeterred. "I feel like the luckiest man in the world."

Draco gave up. It was hopeless. He was stuck with a madman over a thousand miles from home and frankly, he was exhausted. Potter was impossible and screaming at him only made it worse. Maybe… maybe compromise would work. It was worth a try. "If… if I say I'm your fiancé will you stop acting like a crazy person?" he asked tentatively.

"Well we won't know until you do, will we honey?"

Draco groaned and scrubbed his face wearily. "Fine, Potter. You win. I'm your fiancé. Happy?" This seemed to happen a lot these days…

"Well of course I am, you silly blond thing you," Potter chuckled. "Now hurry up. Dinner awaits us." He turned away and sauntered off merrily, leaving Draco gaping behind him. The young blond went over his meagre list of options. There was nothing he wanted more than to hex the very skin off Potter. Unfortunately the wanker still had his wand. Maybe, he should try walking back… it was only a few thousand kilometres…

"Draco? I'm not getting any younger, darling."

There was nothing for it. Draco slumped his shoulders in defeat and trudged behind Potter.Get this over with as soon as possible, he told himself firmly. And try… try not to go completely mental in the meantime.

Draco stabbed fitfully at his fish and tried not to sulk. In light of his changed circumstances, he had adopted a strategy of mutinous silence and constant pouting, pointedly ignoring everything that Potter said. It hadn't deterred the man in the slightest.

Potter went about his evening with a blithe confidence, smiling and chatting with the waiter, somehow managing to select the right wine and ordering for both of them. Draco's chagrin at the high handedness was overshadowed by his surprise at the fact that Potter spoke fluent French.

Potter must have noticed his shocked expression because he shrugged and grinned. "We did some intel in France during the War. I was stuck here for the better part of a year. Turns out when you've got nothing to do in a strange city, you pick up a few things."

Draco nodded stiffly. He really didn't want to talk about the War. His own involvement had been limited but it still rankled. His mind flitted with memories of the Dark Lord and he shuddered. His mother had shipped him off to a safe house the second she had a chance and he had spent three, dark and terrifying months in Italy with Blaise, waiting for the odd owl, wondering if their families were alive or dead. It had been the worst time of his life and now, it just stung that while he had been hiding away like a coward, Potter had tackled the monster head on and given them their lives back. The Dark Lord… Draco shuddered again.

He started as he felt a firm hand on his shoulder and stared into concerned, green eyes. "I'm glad it's over too," Potter told him sincerely. Draco nodded again and shrugged off his hand. He didn't want contact right now… especially with Potter.

Mercifully, Potter seemed to understand and backed off. He poured another glass of wine, which Draco accepted grudgingly and smiled in that annoying, disarming way of his. "Tell me about yourself," he ordered. "What do you do?"

"I'm studying Potions," Draco answered. He may as well answer Potter's asinine questions if it would get him home sooner. "I was hoping to get my Masters this year."

"But?" Potter frowned.

"But I wasn't selected for the internship," Draco replied bitterly. "Limited seats." What that meant of course, was that someone with his Dark Arts background shouldn't even have bothered to apply. But Draco had been adamant. He knew he had a perfect NEWT score for the program. He had hoped that that would even out the odds for him. Apparently not.

Potter just nodded speculatively. "Well, you'll manage," he said finally. "You were certainly talented, from what I remember."

"Can we not talk about this?" Draco snapped. This whole conversation was messing with his head. He did not want to share his long list of personal failures with Potter. This whole thing was reaching new levels of ridiculous.

"Of course," Potter replied easily. "Let's talk about us instead."

Draco's eyes narrowed warningly. "Us?"

"Well, we need to discuss our future together, don't we? Wedding dates, buying a house, four or five kids… all that jazz."

"Potter, for the love of Merlin! We are not getting… five kids?"

"And a crup in the yard, unless you're a cat person. You look like a cat person."

Draco whimpered and rubbed his temples. He was developing a migraine, he just knew it. And he was really too tired to fight anymore. "Why are you doing this, Potter?" he asked wearily.

"Doing what?" Potter asked innocently.

"This!" Draco ranted, not even caring that a few people were staring at them now. It was too much. "All of it! With the dinner and the courting and the crazy! What could you possibly be getting out of this? I'm trying and trying to figure it out but I can't! And I know you're up to something! Don't you dare tell me you're not! Merlin as my witness Potter, I will find out and I will make you suffer for this incessant harassment if it's the last thing I… mmmph!"

In hindsight, he should have noticed Potter slowly and steadily sidling over to his side of the table. But Draco was far too caught up in his rant to give a damn. So when Potter's hand gripped the back of his neck, tugging him forward and their lips crashed together, he was somewhat surprised. So surprised in fact, that he gasped and Potter - bastard that he was - took due advantage and slipped his tongue in his mouth. Draco snarled in frustration and reached for a fork, determined to stab the Gryffindor to within an inch of his life. Potter was prepared and grabbed hold of his wrists, pinning them together as he ravaged his mouth senselessly. Draco struggled petulantly for all of ten seconds, before coming to the conclusion that it was futile. Defeated, he relaxed his tense body and surrendered, giving Potter free rein to do as he pleased. The Gryffindor smirked against his lips, recognizing his victory and plied Draco with lips and teeth and tongue, exploring every inch of his new found territory with enthusiasm. It seemed to go on for hours, with him hauled up in Potter's arms like a ragdoll as the man attempted to snog the very life force out of him. Finally, the need for oxygen took over and Draco whimpered in feeble protest. Potter released him, chuckling when a rather light headed Draco slumped against him.

"Any more questions?" the prat asked smugly.

"A simple I find you attractive would have done the job, Potter," the blond grumbled. Potter laughed and carded a hand through his hair, and he debated whether or not to push him away. What was the point? So he stayed where he was as Potter cleared the cheque and thanked their waiter. He didn't even protest when the man hauled him up again and back out on the street or when they Apparated back to Malfoy Manor. They landed on solid ground again with Draco still tucked firmly in the crook of Potter's arms.

Then he protested.

He huffed and pushed Potter away at once, scowling as the arrogant git stumbled a bit and righted himself, still grinning. "Delightful" he teased lightly, green eyes sparkling merrily. "And to think, I was worried that you'd give me a hard time." Draco flushed and looked away. This would have been so much easier if Potter had the basic courtesy to be ugly as fuck. Unreasonable git…

"You had your fun," he scowled belligerently. "Now go away."

"Alright," Potter grinned, taking his waist and pulling him closer. "But I have something for you first."

Draco's eyes widened as that damn kiss flashed through his mind again. There was no way he was reliving that again. "I don't want it," he snapped, turning his head away mulishly. "Leave, Potter."

"No," Potter husked, trailing a hand down his cheek again. "I want you to have this."

Draco faltered, his skin flaring at the seemingly innocent touch. "P-potter…"

"Hush, beautiful," Potter whispered. "You want this, I swear."

"N-no," Draco protested adamantly. Potter was so close now. The woodsy scent of pine drifted over Draco and he swallowed. Potter's lips hovered over his and despite himself, Draco whimpered.

"Want it now?" Potter whispered. Draco staggered like a pile of bricks.

"Yes," he managed, closing his eyes. Potter tilted his head up with a gentle hand and Draco hummed and parted his lips. Potter's mouth ghosted over his tantalisingly. And then Draco felt those lips stretch in an amused grin. His eyes fluttered open in surprise as he felt something long and thin slipping into his trouser pocket. What the…?

"Your wand," Potter chuckled, pulling back abruptly. "I figured you'd want it back." The git favoured him with a sweet kiss on the cheek and removed his hands, backing away smoothly. Draco tried not to whine at the sudden loss. He was so stunned that all he could do was stare as Potter turned his back on him and walked away.

"I'll be in touch, beautiful," he called back. "Sleep well."

And then he was gone. Draco slumped against the Manor gates trying and failing to understand how his life had culminated to this single point of madness. There were no answers in the stillness of the night. Finally, he gave in to his exhaustion and trudged up to bed.

So much for not going completely mental…

Reviews are lovely, as always ^^