I smoothed the fine fabric of my robes, a nervous habit from when I was a child I hadn't been able to break myself of. I was headed to another Ministry function, some charitable thing or another. I had little hope I would see Harry there, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. Just in case. I gave myself a long assessing look, practiced a reasonably happy smile and Apparated straight into the large hall.

I carefully looked around the large crowd and breathed a sigh of relief when I didn't spot a familiar head of messy black hair. I did want to see him, looked forward to it even, but I wasn't prepared to yet. Harry hated coming to Ministry functions and used to need to be prodded and/or bribed (usually with sexual favors or Muggle candy). It was only slightly easier when the functions were for charitable causes. If he knew the charity helped children, he only needed to be asked once. I smiled to myself; there was really nothing Harry wouldn't do if he thought he could help a child in need. Even when it annoyed me, I adored that about him.

I wandered the crowd, shaking hands occasionally and nodding my head in greeting. Most people were polite to me, especially since I opened the family vaults more often now. I firmly keep away from alcohol at these functions these days. So, instead of a finely aged firewhiskey or some exotic Muggle liquor, I sipped idly at some horrid, overly sweet purple punch concoction. I couldn't even figure out the flavor but it was kept chilled so it was palatable in very small sips. I nearly dropped my punch cup when someone gently tapped my elbow and spoke quietly behind me.

"Draco?"

Oh Merlin. I knew that voice. I closed my eyes briefly, opening them again slowly before turning with careful, practice casualness. I couldn't, however, stop the smile that grew on my face. "Harry."

He blinked at me, surprise flickering across his face for a moment before he stepped back and nodded, clearing his throat. "Erm." I could tell he wanted to ask why I was there, but he'd long ago learned to control such urges, especially since it would be considered rude. "How are you?" he asked instead. His fingers were gripping his own cup tightly and I wondered how long it would take before the glass cracked or shattered in his hand. I resisted the urge to run a finger over the tense fingers. I knew my touch would be unwelcome and most likely would make the tenseness worse.

I paused and pursed my lips in thought. Such an innocent question, really, but I was considering it as more than just polite conversation. "Well enough, I suppose."

Again, surprise flickered in his eyes and he coughed awkwardly into a tightly curled fist, obviously feeling uncomfortable. He was saved from having to speak again when a man stepped up and touched his elbow gently. I barely kept the sneer off my face when I recognized him as the man Harry had been photographed with—numerous times by now. He was attractive enough and I mentally congratulated myself for abandoning my plans to win Harry back; this man would be hard competition, especially if he already had Harry's heart.

It hurt my Malfoy pride a bit to admit defeat, but I let it. Where the fuck had that pride gotten me in the past? No where. Alone.

"Harry, hey. There you are." The man sounded (and looked) relieved to see Harry. I wondered briefly if it was because he didn't like to be away from his presence, jealousy because Harry was standing with me or if he didn't know anyone else at the function and required a known variable. Not that I cared either way. He had a strange accent I couldn't place and only spent a moment trying to figure it out. His short, dark hair was in soft waves, brushed casually over to one side to drop handsomely into his eyes at odd moments. I tried not to notice the dark blue eyes; quite a nice color really.

The man turned towards me, an uncertain smile twitching on his lips. Apparently I wasn't as successful at keeping the sneer off my face after all. "Oh, uh... hi," he said and his right hand twitched up.

I glared, wondering why a stranger would be so moved to hex me. I felt myself pale when I realized he might know who I am and what I've done. I no longer glared and stood taller, awaiting the hex (or hateful words) I would no doubt be getting. I deserved them.

"Hello," I nodded, stiffly but politely.

Harry seemed to wake from some sort of daze, his shoulders twitched and he snapped his head in a sharp back and forth motion before he raised a hand towards me. "Ryan, this is Draco Malfoy." His eyes darted to me briefly, his hand made a small wave towards the other man. "Draco, this is Ryan Walker."

Ryan's hand came up again and I realized he'd been attempting to shake my hand earlier, not hex me. "Hello," he repeated with slightly more confidence, his hand waiting for a shake. I blinked at it before mine rose and clasped his for a moment, the habit unconsciously done. "Nice to meet you," he added and I was stunned. I looked over at Harry and was even more surprised to see a small smile on his face as he watched the exchange.

I didn't understand—Did Harry not tell this man about our past? By Ryan's pleasant greeting, he couldn't have. I didn't know what to think. Part of me was grateful and another was sad he felt the need to cut me from his past. I mumbled a similar greeting and we all just stood there in an awkward silence. Ryan was the first to break it, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. It was then I realized he wasn't wearing robes but a finely tailored Muggle suit instead. The cut was stylish and well suited to his tall build, I noticed with a silent grumble. The bastard was fit.

"So, I'm going to get a drink," Ryan said. I looked pointedly at the cup in his hand. He chuckled and grinned. "I meant from the bar. This needs something." He turned and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. The touch wasn't at all intimate but I didn't notice, I was too busy seething inside. "Did you need something, too?" He looked down at Harry's cup with a raised eyebrow. I was able to place his accent and barely resisted the urge to laugh. Harry Potter had brought an American to a Ministry function. I wondered if the man was a Muggle, guessing by his lost expression and what he was wearing. Harry shook his head and Ryan gave me a brief questioning glance that I shook my head to. He wandered away, muttering directions to himself on how to get to the small bar.

I let my gaze following him, unaware of the glare I was sending to the man's back until I heard Harry's amused snort. "Yes?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head again and looked pointedly away.

I sipped my punch, glancing at Harry over the rim of my cup. He looked fantastic, as usual. His whole posture was relaxed but confident as he looked away from me. I wasn't surprised he hadn't tamed that mess of hair, he always claimed it was impossible. Any attempts were thwarted when the locks magically re-adjusted, returning to it's previous state. I hadn't believed him until I tried every potion and charm on the mess myself. I watched as each attempt either failed or succeeded—only until the next morning, when it would be back to its original state. Harry had also forgone wearing robes, wearing something I think was a Muggle tuxedo on his lithe frame. I was forcefully reminded of the last time I'd seen him and my throat closed uncomfortably.

I swallowed a few times and cursed mentally when his attention was riveted to me. His eyes were soft and I couldn't understand why. I really thought he would leave or he hex me. At least punching me. Honestly, I knew I would take any of it and not raise a hand to my own defense, not even in public. But he just stood there calmly, as if aware I was struggling with the words trying to come out. Finally, they did.

"I'm sorry, Harry." I was proud the words carried the sincerity I truly felt. I didn't shout it from the rooftops but I suppose the quietly spoken words came off just as powerfully. Harry always was very forgiving...

He smiled a little and stepped closer to me, but the grip on his cup seemed to get tighter; his knuckles were white. "I know." His head lowered slightly as his eyes dropped to his hand and he appeared to make a conscious effort to loosen his grip, giving me a sheepish smile from under his fringe. I normally would have cursed the bastard for giving me such a look as it always made my heart pound faster with something and desire. (I used to hate it because desire was easier to handle than the other... thing.) But I manage to just give a small smile in return, looking away as I sipped my drink.

I made the mistake of looking back at Harry to find him looking at me intently, his green eyes shuttered and distant. I hurriedly took another sip of my drink, trying not to gag at the sweetness. I mulled over Harry's words. Did he mean that as his own way of saying he forgave me? Probably not... Thankfully, my torturous thoughts stopped when Harry looked up at me fully this time. I couldn't think of a single thing to say to him and I wanted to groan with frustration.

"I'm not saying I forgive you, you know," Harry said quietly, his finger tips nearly white as he strangled his glass again.

I nodded dumbly. Of course I hadn't really expected such a thing. Harry wasn't always so cautious with his heart but it would take a miracle after I'd abused it so thoroughly and carelessly.

"Why di—" He cut himself off and I see him sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. His gaze flickered away, going about the room instead of at me. I nearly growl when I realized he was looking for Ryan; probably loathing the time spent alone with me and wishing desperately for rescue. "So, what brings you here?" he asked instead, looking back at me finally and obviously changing his question again.

"I support many causes. This is one of them," I said as I swept my hand around the room. I wanted to sigh when Harry's eyes widen with surprise. I honestly couldn't blame the man; in the past I'd bitched, whinged and complained over every Galleon he'd ever donated and rarely offered my own. "I know," I said softly, lowering my eyes for a moment with true embarrassment, "but it just felt like the right thing to do."

Harry's lips roll and purse in thought. Knowing him as I do, I also know he was fighting to keep something from blurting out of his mouth. I don't know whether to be relieved or not that he was censoring himself at the moment. I hardly think I want to hear the thought that popped in his head but I nearly clench with sadness since Harry had rarely censored himself around me in the past. I was one of the rare few that got the complete, honest truth from the man. I hadn't realized it was such a gift at the time. I found myself wondering if Ryan got such liberties.

"I see," he finally said. "That's very... kind of you. They need all the help they can get."

I could only nod. I, of course, knew they need every Sickle, Knut and Galleon they could get from private donations since the orphanage didn't get anything from the Ministry (because of some political loophole and slick politicians I'd probably admire in any other situation). Harry had stormed down there and demanded a meeting with the Minister when he'd found that out a few years ago but it hadn't helped at all. It was one of the few things he was willing to put his name behind, apparently.

"Yes," I said inanely, fighting a wince. Conversation had never been this awkward with Harry before.

A small, polite smile appeared on Harry's face before he looked away and took a long sip of his drink. "I was starting to think you'd buggered off to a pub," he said a moment later, smiling wider—brighter. I try to ignore the fluttering in my belly at the smile; it wasn't for me so I looked away. When I turned I scowled slightly when I saw Ryan returning to Harry's side. Bugger.

"Nah," Ryan said through a laugh and stood close to Harry. "I just got a little lost," he admitted with a sheepish grin, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. It was adorably sheepish and I wanted to claw his sparkly blue eyes out like some hormonal witch in a bad daytime drama. "This place is huge," he said looking around with slightly wide eyes.

Harry laughed softly and I nearly wept. I hadn't heard that sound in... too long. "I know, but we only have to stay for another 20 minutes after the speeches, alright?"

"Yeah, cool," Ryan said, giving Harry a brief but warm smile before continuing his perusal of the massive ball room. His gaze paused on the floating candles and he gaped a bit, snapping his mouth closed again when he caught himself. "That is so cool. I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he said quietly, leaning towards Harry a bit.

I felt no pleasure at all to realize my guess of Ryan being a Muggle was correct. I found myself feeling a curious mix of anger and sadness. To think that Harry had to look to the Muggle world for companionship. "Excuse me?" I asked, looking at Ryan. "Get used to what?"

"Magic," Ryan said simply, shrugging his shoulders. I nearly gaped when the man has the audacity to wink at me before leaning in close and lowering his voice so that only I can hear him. "Yeah, I'm a Muggle." I can tell the word wasn't one he was used to, and there was a hint of distaste as he said it. "Don't forget, us Muggles—we use our hands to fight. And I know all about you, you fucker."

I clench my teeth tightly when he leaned back and gave a me a brief look of loathing before his face went impassive again. My gaze was drawn to Harry and I scowled when I realized his attention was back onto his cup. The prat had no idea his... whatever just verbally assaulted me. Oh maybe he did and chose to ignore it; I noticed that Harry's eyes narrowed slightly at the interaction before he rolled them in slightly annoyance. He looked away, seemingly fascinated with the décor and leaving me to glare down his Muggle.

As tempting as it was to do more than just glare, I decided to ignore them both. I wasn't about to try a damn thing in the middle of a charity event.

"Did you remember my notes?" Harry asked, somehow missing or just pointedly ignoring the thick tension between the two of us. I continued to glare as Ryan looked up, appearing to be fascinated with the ceiling.

"Yup," Ryan said and dug around the inner pocket of his jacket for a moment before producing a stack of small white, lined cards with a flourish. "I even numbered them, just in case," he added, apparently aware of Harry's nerves in public speaking. He must've seen Harry drop his notes enough times... and I was slightly annoyed I hadn't thought of that solution previously.

Harry chuckled, taking the cards and sliding them into his own pocket. He laid a hand on Ryan's arm, squeezing gently in gratitude. I hated that he knew (and seemed to be completely at ease with) how tactile Harry could be and looked away when I saw the git lean in closer. "Thanks."

Ryan winked and then wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze. "Anytime," he said with a grin.

I watched the entire exchange with a heavy heart, my stomach churning. I wasn't blind, I clearly saw Ryan restrain himself from kissing Harry. It hurt a lot more than I expected it to. "What are you speaking about?" I ask, turning to Harry and trying my damnedest to ignore Ryan. I knew of Harry's dislike (verging on outright hatred or pathological phobia) of crowds and public speaking and was genuinely interested what had motivated him enough to give a speech.

Harry raised his cards and his cheeks went a bit pink. I tried my best not to stare and get lost in memories of that flushed look...

"I'm trying to get the Ministry to take more responsibility for magical orphans so... I'm," he paused and cleared his throat, giving a grateful smile to Ryan when a comforting arm went around him. "I'm talking about what happened to me. If the Ministry had given a damn, I mightn't have had... what happened, happen."

I felt myself nodding along, stomach twisting. Of course I knew there were few laws, even fewer when Harry was a baby, that would've protected him. The laws weren't important enough and they weren't followed through. It was the only explanation how they let some old codger, with no guardianship leverage whatsoever, have the final say in a child's well-fare. It was deplorable and I hoped it could be fixed. I hadn't realized how easy it was for wizarding children to be lost or forgotten like Harry was. I really did hope Harry could help affect a change.

Harry didn't talk about his childhood much but I'd been appalled by the little he had shared. I still couldn't believe he'd been failed so thoroughly. Not just as Harry Potter, but as a magical child left with no where to go. It honestly was one of the motivations for donating. No child, magical or Muggle, should be treated in such a way. I agreed whole-heartedly in there being better laws, monitoring and organizations in place so something like that didn't happen to another child again.

"I see," I finally said, finding my voice. I was mostly focused on trying not to move closer, smack Ryan's arm off and enfold Harry in my own arms. (I also tried not to remember Harry had always enjoyed a cuddle when he got that look on his face.) "That's very brave of you."

Harry shrugged, a bit self consciously. "If it'll help, it's worth the embarrassment."

Ryan answered before I could. "Why should you be embarrassed? You were just a kid. They are the ones that should be embarrassed. You don't really expect people to think any different." It wasn't exactly a question though it could be see as one; it was more statement than anything.

I worked on keeping the sneer off my face but I did agree with him completely. "Exactly, Harry," I said, ignoring a glare from Ryan.

"It's fucking mortifying," Harry whispered hoarsely, looking between me and Ryan with wide eyes. "I... Thanks for the encouragement." I couldn't tell who he was talking to since he addressed his cup but I was self-delusional enough to think he's speaking to me.

It was obvious he was censoring himself again and I couldn't help it; I stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm. Only to comfort. I tried to ignore the hateful glare being directed at me by Ryan and succeeded fairly well.

He was really not as menacing as he likely fancied himself. He had never met my aunt Bella, after all.I survived her hateful looks, and comparatively speaking, he was akin to a pouting puppy.

[[+]]

I plunged my cock down Harry's throat, grunting softly. Normally I'd be a bit embarrassed to make such a sound, but Harry always could bring out the more baser reactions from me. I groaned when he swallowed, his throat tightening around me with torturous pressure and motion, and somehow still managed to work his tongue on the sensitive underside.

Gods, he was made to suck my cock, not wave a wand around chasing after Dark Wizards.

I didn't realize I'd spoken that aloud until I heard (and, fucking hell, felt) his muffled laughter. It shot straight through my cock and made my arsehole twitch and spasm, sending heat through me. "Harry," I groaned. His eyes fluttered closed and I thoroughly enjoyed, on every level, when he hummed a pleasured moan.

Looking down, I moaned lewdly, looking into amused, lust filled green eyes. Merlin, he was fucking perfect.

He didn't stop when I tried to pull away. Instead, his hands came up behind my thighs to keep me in place, his fingertips nearly bruising in their tight grip, and hollowed his cheeks as he applied suction and fucking hummed again. I didn't try to be noble anymore, I didn't even try to restrain myself; I just mentally sighed and let go. I berated myself for my weakness even as I fucked his face.

Really, I wasn't strong enough to resist Harry; I never was. It was one of the things that scared me so much before. Now; I reveled in it. It took time and a lot of soul searching (and, yes, that cow Pansy) to realize it wasn't a weakness at all. I'd probably go into further, more in-dept thought when I wasn't bullocks deep in Harry's face, though.

I moaned lowly when Harry pulled back and swirled his tongue around my dripping length, my eyes rolling back in my head briefly at the sensation. I could see him settling himself and relaxing his jaw and withheld no more; if he wanted it, I could give it to him. I let any restraint fall away and proceeded to thrust in and out of his willing, warm, wonderfully wet mouth. Vaguely, in my lust addled mind, I remembered he used to love this. He'd be hoarse for hours and it never failed to make me harder than steel and pound him mercilessly until I couldn't move anymore. Which he also loved.

I grabbed a handful of smooth black hair and he fucking hummed a moan again, the vibrations making me shudder almost violently, his hand sneaking into his own pants. I had to look away or I'd come, foolishly hoping to prolong the inevitable a bit longer.

I didn't plan on this happening; I never imagined that it could've. I'd only meant to say good-bye before I left, terrified I'd never again have the chance to give him a proper 'good-bye', especially since I'd cocked up the last one so badly. I'd managed to get him away from the American and pulled him into a deserted alcove.

"I just... that was a very moving speech," I murmured, feeling like an arse. Very glib.

I'd roll my eyes if I didn't know Harry would assume I was directing the movement at him and not myself. At random intervals in his speech, I wanted to cry and rage. I didn't of course, but I let any feelings show on my face whenever Harry looked at me as he spoke. Which was often. I mentally preened at each glance, reveling in it.

"Thanks," Harry said softly and tried not to shift awkwardly.

I watched, mesmerized as he shifted from foot to foot. I didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't the stream of words he said. That he hadn't expected to feel so much when he saw me; that he had hoped only anger and resentment would surface. (He admitted to feeling both, and then how embarrassed he was at how quickly they'd dissipated.) Apparently, my apology (which, admittedly was a very rare occurrence in the past) had affected him deeply. It didn't magically erase all the pain and heartache but he could tell it was sincere and heartfelt.

And nearly had him this close to throwing himself at me.

I was torn between pride and chagrin Harry had managed to hold it together, though (just barely). Even my restraint around Ryan was noticed and appreciated. I mentally patted myself on the back about that. It almost made the ulcer I was sure to get worth while. I stood, transfixed, as Harry quietly murmured something about nearly two years of heartache and pain lifting away and leaving him feeling weak and stupid. What kind of person was he to still want a bastard like Draco? he'd mused aloud.

And it stung, but I had to agree... Not that he was stupid, weak or anything of the sort, but that I was a complete bastard. I couldn't quite figure out Harry's state of mind or emotional state as he pointed out I was still quick witted and woefully snobbish, but it was tempered with hints of compassion and startlingly humane insight. Every time I had looked at him, apparently I had only gazed back with warmth, my gaze soft. He said it made him feel flustered. Warm. Unnerved...

I freely admit I smiled smugly at the confession of how often Harry had nearly ran over and jumped me. I had wondered what was the reason behind the few times he stuttered and stammered through his speech...

"It's not fair. It's fucking frustrating is what this is," Harry said softly, looking somewhere near his shoes. "I want to hate you, Draco. Never see your pale, gorgeous face again," he admitted, almost too quietly for me to hear. It felt like everything twisted sharply inside, unable to argue the point even as I wished it wasn't true. Harry looked up, eyes earnest. "But instead, I'm dreading the end of the evening." I nod dumbly, feeling thrown but oddly pleased at the admission. I smile and he smiles back, just a little. Just enough I know he wasn't wishing he'd hexed my arse or punched me.

Harry looked away again and I didn't stop him. "I wish... I wish I was brave enough to see you earlier. Alone."

I hummed, agreeing but understanding, and contented myself in just looking at Harry, enjoying the chance to just... look. I didn't know when I'd ever see him again and I didn't want the last memory of him to be that terrible evening when I ruined everything good in my life. I really didn't know what else Harry wanted to say, but I honestly feared it. I kind of wanted to leave things on the semi-good note we were at, honestly. Before I could tear myself away and say my good-byes, Harry was stepping closer. I was close enough to see the pale gold flecks in his green eyes and feel the tickle of his wild hair against my chin and nose.

"Did you mean it?" Harry murmured, staring at me intently. I knew what he was referring to but stayed quiet, affecting a confused expression. "When you said... when you said you were sorry?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes, Harry. I sincerely did. I am. I was..." I broke off, sighing and fighting for words. "There aren't enough words to convey how sorry I am for how terribly I acted. How terribly I treated you. I owe you so much more than an apology, but it's all I can do. I can't take back the horrible things I said. I can't take back the times I refused to be a decent person..." I paused, chewing my lip. I was nervous and terrified; I had so much to say but I didn't know if I'd be given the chance to. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could even convey how sorry I was, how terrible I felt. I had to try though. "I was scared, Harry. It's the worst excuse but it's true. I... we..." I blew out a breath and looked up, keenly aware Harry was stepping back again.

"Scared of what?" Harry asked, his voice soft with confusion and a bit of wonder. I looked at him and I was sure he already had some idea what the answer was.

I tried not to hesitate but I did. Harry really deserved the truth, even if he walked away and I never saw him again. "You," I said and shrugged helplessly. "Love. I wasn't... good enough for either," I admitted. Between my mother and Pansy, I saw that even a Malfoy had to earn some things in life. I only regret I hadn't learned such things before I struck out and hurt Harry. I blinked when he was pressed against my chest, the move quick and nearly instantaneous. How could I have forgotten how quickly he could move?

"You are, though," Harry muttered, looking up at me. I swallowed heavily at the emotions swirling through his gorgeous green eyes. I deserved the pain and hesitation but not the adoration. It almost hurt to know he still cared for me; I didn't deserve it. His dark brows pinched together and I was oddly relieved to see consternation and annoyance. "Didn't you think I was scared? Didn't you think I didn't think myself worthy of love? Affection?"

I blinked again. It honestly hadn't ever occurred to me. I felt quite stupid but it was true... "No, I never thought so. You... you're so brave and fucking amazing, Harry," I whispered before clearing my throat. "I didn't think you would be scared because you deserve love, affection... Everything."

Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he swallowed thickly. I tentatively brought an arm up, loosely so he could remove it if desired, and wrapped it around his waist. I'd nearly forgotten how perfectly he fit against me. I took only a moment to enjoy the contact, though.

"I should have realized you would think differently, idiot Gryffindor," I murmured. I realized I probably shouldn't say such things but he chuckled wetly at the old, affectionate nickname and I sighed with relief. "I'm so sorry," I repeated, dipping my head slightly to rest my lips against the top of his head. I tried not to inhale but it was impossible not to. He always smelled so good. Harry's hands fisted in my robes as his forehead rested against my chest.

"I want to hate you," Harry whispered brokenly. It hurt something in me to hear that tone and I wrapped my other arm around him, pulling him a bit tighter against me. He didn't struggle, didn't fight me or step away. I reveled in the moment, feeling choked and overwhelmed when his cheek rested against my collarbone.

I cleared my throat, but I still had some trouble speaking around the tight feeling in my throat. "You should," I said quietly. I couldn't fully articulate how I felt, knowing he didn't hate me, even if he kind of wanted to. A sick sort of pleasure went through me. It was true, though, he should hate me. I just stood quietly, letting him cling to me. It was horribly wonderful. I shushed him quietly, running my hands over his back in slow circles and random patterns, when he made a choked sound and I hoped he wasn't crying. I could never handle it during the rare occasion he cried; it always tore at me, usually because I was the reason for the tears.

He pulled away and I let him. His eyes were shiny but there weren't any tears (thank Merlin).

I hated myself for thinking it but I couldn't fool myself with this moment; as much as I'd like to delude myself with the quiet, intimate moment, I couldn't. Harry wasn't mine. "Won't Ryan be upset you're missing?" I reluctantly asked, trying not to sneer or spit out his name. As annoying as the man was, I couldn't hate him too much. He'd made Harry smile.

"No," Harry said and for some reason his eyes were nearly twinkling with mischief. "We're just friends. He's engaged to a friend of mine, Tabitha. A lovely witch I met a few years back."

I gaped stupidly, I knew I did. Harry chuckled softly and I couldn't find it in myself to be mad. I don't know how I could forget he could be quite the Slytherin at times. It was one of the many things I'd found irrepressibly attractive about him. "And you let me think otherwise," I finally muttered, amusement more than annoyance in my voice. He shrugged cutely and burrowed back into my chest, fitting himself neatly under my chin.

"I guess I figured you deserved it," Harry said, voice slightly muffled by my robes.

I had nothing to say to that, since he spoke the truth, again, so I just went back to holding him quietly. I didn't know how long it would take him to regain his senses and pull away, so I was going to enjoy the moment for as long as I could. I didn't realize I was speaking softly, telling Harry about the past year, until he'd pulled away again. I blinked when he stared intently at me and nearly fell over with shock when he grabbed the back of my neck and yanked me into a heated kiss.

I moaned softly into his mouth, I couldn't help it. It was like the last 2 years hadn't happened and my body reacted to Harry as it always did; with thrilling heat and enthusiasm.

"Did you really do all that?" Harry asked breathlessly when he pulled away. His lips were slightly wet and puffy, it was a bit distracting. I nodded slowly. He hummed thoughtfully and pulled me into another kiss, fingers sliding and stroking though my hair in a painfully familiar way. I don't know when his hands worked my belt open but he was undoing my pants with hurried movements when I finally caught up to reality.

I stopped his hands, hating myself a little but still trying to do the right thing. "No, wait. Harry—"

"You don't want to?" Harry asked, looking up at me through his lashes. I would think he was being coy if it weren't for the soft tone full of doubt and insecurity. I didn't answer right away, my mind fuzzed with sudden lust. His fingers twitched on my belt, but he didn't remove them. Even as his shoulders sagged. He worried at the inside of his cheek. "I thought you... That we... I hoped..." he broke off and I watched as he closed his eyes, a pink blush of embarrassment blooming on his face and down his neck when he looked away. "Idiot," he hissed lowly, obviously chastising himself.

I shook my head and squeezed his hands. "It's really not that, Harry," I finally said, my voice a bit thick. He peeked up at me again, easily recognizing the arousal in my tone. He'd heard it often enough. I was a bit relieved he still knew me so well. The tension eased from his shoulders and the doubt melted from his expression. "I just... Harry, not even a few hours ago..." I trailed off, unsure how to continue, to put into words just how amazing but completely unexpected the past hour had been.

"I know," Harry said softly and leaned up enough to softly kiss me. His brows drew together again as his hands stroked along my face. I leaned into the caress, unable to help myself. Harry's lips twitched with a smile for a moment, his eyes firmly averted from mine as his thumbs stroked along my cheekbones. "But I can't deny I still love you," he whispered. He finally looked up, looking stupidly apologetic. I wanted to pinch him and kiss him. "I'm sorry if I rushed you."

I laughed, I couldn't help it. I covered one of his hands with my own and lowered our hands, pressing his into the prominent bulge in my pants. "I still love you as well," I said honestly, waiting until his gaze raised up from my crotch. A hot sizzle of lust went through me when I saw his dilated eyes and his tongue sweep across his bottom lip. "I just... It just seems so sudden, no? I'm not at all complaining, though!" I was quick to add. "Fuck, a few hours ago I didn't think you'd ever even talk to me again." Harry wiggled his hands in a bid for freedom and I let them go, unwilling to hold him against his will.

"I know," Harry said again and huffed softly. His hands smoothed along my shirt, his fingers toying with the tiny buttons. I had inappropriately timed memories of him tearing off my shirts, of the countless buttons I'd happily lost along the course of our relationship. "I'm probably being a complete idiot but I can't help it." He looked up at me, eyes wide and earnest. "I... I've missed you so damned much," he whispered and dropped his head onto my chest again.

I hummed in agreement and wrapped my arms around him again, again relieved he didn't wriggle away. I just held him. Even if I was feeling a bit of a pervert for doing so with my pants still open. I wasn't about to put any distance between us to fix it, though. If Harry didn't mind, I was going to ignore it.

"Would it be a terrible mistake if we tried again?" he muttered into my shirt.

I went still. Still enough to make him stiffen and look up, the doubt back in his eyes. "No," I breathed. "I... I'd love that. I don't know if I deserve a second chance," I murmured, cursing myself even as I spoke. It was true, I did love him, but I didn't want to jump at the chance merely for my own selfish wants.

"You do," Harry said firmly. He hummed and nuzzled into my chest. "Just the fact that you'd say that... Well, I think you do." He pulled back and gave me an intense look, making my toes want to curl in my shoes. "We'd start completely over, you understand." I nodded. I completely understood and agreed. "We're doing normal couple things," he said, an eyebrow going up. "Meeting each other friends and all that."

I laughed. "If you really insist on meeting Pansy and Blaise, I won't stop you. You'll see why I resisted..." I nearly bit my tongue at the horrible attempt at a joke, but he just grinned up at me and I know I grinned back, stupidly happy. His eyes did that mischievous twinkle again and before I could ask about it, he was on his knees with my pants down and his tongue urging me to full hardness with uncanny speed.

So, like I said, I never expected to be in this position; leaning against a wall, coming down Harry's throat and muttering endearments and filthy things as he arched and shuddered against my legs as he came, too. I vaguely wondered if he was going to have to pay extra to get spunk out of a Muggle suit and found myself not caring as I slid bonelessly down the wall, pulling Harry against me.

"Have you been practicing?" I winced. I knew it was the wrong thing to say, but I couldn't censor myself apparently, my brain still wonderfully liquidized from orgasm. I didn't want to envision any of Ryan near (or inside) Harry. Even knowing it didn't (and wouldn't) happen didn't help.

Harry made a sound that suspiciously resembled a giggle, his own orgasm making him giddy, and I sighed with relief. "No," he said and giggled again, burrowing into my chest as he settled himself more comfortably on my lap. My arse was freezing and already starting to go numb but I wasn't going to move. No way was I risking it. "I nearly gagged at first but... Fuck, I missed that, too," he said softly, sighing with pleasure and kissing my neck softly a few times.

He leaned up after a moment and looked up at me with wide eyes. "I can't believe I just did that," he whispered and looked around, a bit horrified, at the still deserted alcove. Neither of us had cast any kind of privacy wards and it was a bit embarrassing to realize that we could have been heard or seen at any time.

"You did," I said brilliantly. I snorted a laugh and buried my nose in Harry's hair again, inhaling deeply and savoring the slightly muskier scent. Gods, he smelled even more amazing all sexed out. He held him tightly, murmured a 'hold on' and apparated him into my room. He yelped and flailed a bit before settling down when he recognized the room he was in. I waited for his reaction.

Harry looked around, stunned. He'd only been to the Manor twice and each time I had shepherded him through the halls so quickly he rarely saw anything but pale blurs as the marble zoomed past and we'd apparated out as quickly as possible when I retrieved whatever I'd come for. He slowly untangled himself from me and looked around. "Why?" he asked, turning to look at me with a stunned expression on his face.

"I live here... Again. And well—" I shrugged uncomfortably. "I wanted you to see it." It would take awhile, but I fully intended on giving him a tour of the Manor (or at least as much as he wanted to see before he got tired of walking).

Harry nodded, swallowing thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing jerkily. I blinked, the urge to nibble was strong. I was a bit taken by surprise how much I wanted to say 'fuck the tour', lock my door and pull him closer, nibbling and licking until he was a quivering mess on my bed. He checked the time on a Muggle watch strapped to his wrist and chuckled weakly. "It's just gone nine."

"I know. Mum's up still..." I said and flushed. He'd always wanted to meet my mother but I always found an excuse not to make it happen. Harry, naturally, thought it was because he wasn't good enough —which was insane. Honestly, I'd avoid it because I knew she'd adore him and become attached (I do love my mother, but I'd be forced into more frequent visits if that happened and I refused to allow that).

But mostly? I knew my mother would've seen past my facade, seen my innermost wants and insisted I stop being a baby and marry the man. At the time, it filled with me fear, panic and enough happiness to scare the shit out of me. Now, I'd be thrilled to marry him but I'll settle for a date at the moment. "She'll probably be in the main parlor having tea..." Harry gaped before snapping his mouth closed and rushing at me again.

Harry flung himself at me and smacked me. Hard. He ignored my scowl and indignant howl of pain. "I'm not meeting your mum!" he hissed. Before I could react, probably with a lot of self-violence for being so stupid or at him for saying 'no', he continued. His hand swept over his stained trousers and a light blush stained his cheeks. "I can't go in there like this, you prat!"

"Oh," I said dumbly. I couldn't keep from laughing with delight and relief. "You can borrow something."

Harry blinked, then a slow smile spread across his lips. He stepped closer and gently rubbed the spot he smacked earlier, his fingers soothing the no longer stinging area. I wasn't going to tell him it didn't hurt anymore; that would be stupid. "Sorry," he murmured. I nodded my forgiveness and set out to find a pair of pants, ones I wouldn't mind him altering to fit his smaller body.

I tried not to focus too much on the thought of him wearing my clothes, though.

We'd never leave the room.