~CHAPTER 2~
"You did what?" Draco asked in disbelief as soon as they had Apparated back to Harry's flat.
Harry sank into his couch and hid his face in his hands.
"You told them we were a couple?" Draco asked again.
Harry nodded sheepishly, still refusing to remove his hands.
"Bloody hell, Potter, but that's brilliant! You're a fucking genius."
Harry removed his hands incredibly fast and looked at Draco who was sporting an air of utter fondness.
"Wh-What?"
"Are you sure you were sorted right, Potter? This is so Slytherin of you." Draco had a hard time hiding his enthusiasm.
"Well actually, I was nearly sorted in Slytherin," Harry shrugged.
Draco came closer and sat on Harry's coffee table, his leg instantly reaching for Harry's. "You're joking, right?"
"No, it's true. The Sorting Hat said I could achieve great things in Slytherin."
"No it did not."
"It did."
Draco folded his arms. "How come you ended up in Gryffindor, then?"
"Because I begged the Hat not to put me in Slytherin," Harry hesitated. "Because of you."
Draco's face was unreadable for a couple of seconds before a huge smile formed on his face again. "Ha! You were afraid I would put you in the shade, that's it! Afraid you couldn't stand the comparison!"
"Er, sorry to-"
"Enough of that anyway." Draco put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Potter, I am proud of you. That was surprisingly clever of you," he said in the most patronising tone.
"Er, thanks."
"Now, Langdon said there would be an interview of the two of us in our house on Monday, is that so?"
"Yes, but-"
"Meaning in the meantime, we have to get to know each other very well," Draco continued, ignoring Harry completely.
"Draco, I'm not sure-"
"We are going to do this. And we are going to be incredible." Draco was beyond excitement now. His face had lit up and he was talking animatedly. "We are going to blow their mind with our amazing chemistry." He stood up at once and started pacing the room, muttering to himself.
Shit. What was Harry supposed to do? He knew, deep inside, that no matter what Draco did, no matter what he said, he never ever had a single chance to be accepted into the Club. Harry knew it. He had only challenged Langdon because the guy had been an obnoxious prick. But now? He started to think it had been a huge mistake.
"We need to practise, of course." Draco paused in the middle of the room, his finger pointed at Harry. "I need to know absolutely everything about your life. Every single pathetic detail. From the colour of your toothbrush to the content of your cupboards."
"Draco…"
"No, no, no, no, no, Potter. You are not letting me down. You are not chickening out. We are going to do this. And we are going to be awesome at this. We are going to be the greatest couple of the Wizarding World."
Harry swallowed hard at that last statement and focused his attention elsewhere.
"What about your father? What if he hears about it? Wouldn't it alter his plans for your wedding?"
"Nah, it doesn't matter, Potter. Father knows people don't get together out of love, just out of interest. I'm sure he'll be terribly proud of me for coming up with such a brilliant plan," Draco smiled, a big smile that was all teeth and almost reached his eyes.
"But what about your future… wife?" Harry tried again. "Won't her family call the wedding off if the news spreads out?"
"Oh, Potter, you're such a Muggle sometimes," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Of course not. If one thing, this union will increase my value on the market. The Greengrasses will be able to sell the fact that they managed to marry their daughter to the man who dated Harry Potter. Which in turn, will cast a great glow on their reputation. It's a win-win situation, really."
Right. In times like these, Harry realised how much he had missed out being raised by Muggles. Some things felt just different at best, alien at worse. But it didn't matter right now.
"Okay, so how are we doing this?"
"It's Saturday, which means we have two whole days before the members of the committee show up on Monday night. So, I'm moving in here right now," Draco said very seriously and Harry laughed.
He stopped dead in his tracks. "You were joking, right?"
"Not one second, Potter. Give me five minutes to go and grab a couple of things from my flat and we'll start up with our great scheme."
"You can't be-"
"I'm off, Potter. We don't have a moment to spare." Draco Disapparated with a whoosh.
And that's how Draco Malfoy ended up moving in with Harry Potter.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy was born on a bright gorgeously sunshiny day, on the fifth of June, nineteen eighty, to Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy, née Black," Draco declaimed as he lay lasciviously on Harry's sofa, his lean body taking up the whole space.
"Er, do you really deem it necessary to go over your whole biography in detail? I mean I'm not sure we really have to go that far."
Draco lifted his head and looked at Harry in indignation. Harry was facing him in the armchair, notepad and quill in hand, ready to learn whatever he was supposed to know to make them look credible as a couple to the members of the committee.
"Of course it's necessary. A good spouse must know everything about the love of his life. Right, where was I? Oh, yes." He took an inspired look and started again. "I had a privileged childhood, surrounded by a loving mother and a father who doted on me. Of course, who could blame them? I was the cutest, brightest child in the whole of southern England."
Harry snorted. "Why not of the whole of England?"
Draco looked affronted and lowered his voice. "Of course, Potter, I was the most gorgeous child of the whole of England, but I can barely say that out loud, that would make me sound obnoxious." He raised his voice again. "Besides, it's better to let the others believe they ever stood a chance."
"Right. Go on."
Draco went on for a while, digressing about every single thing he'd done as a child, portraying himself as the model little angel everyone worshipped. Harry noted every single detail down, from Draco's favourite colour ('navy blue') to the name of the pet Kneazle he received when he was four and lost when he was five ('Fluffy' for Draco, 'Herbert' for everybody else), to the number of albino peacocks the Malfoys had had over the years ('four') and to the name of every single house-elf they possessed ('Dobby, Blinky, Tommy and Potty. Kidding, Potter. There was no Tommy.')
Behind the gloating and boasting Draco couldn't help inflicting on Harry, was some interesting information if - like Harry - one could read between the lines. Draco had had a lonely childhood, often left to his own devices, and finding solace in his friends - Crabbe and Goyle mostly - whom he had known from a very early age.
"I started Hogwarts when I was eleven and was immediately adored by everybody there."
"Er," Harry countered. "Remember me?"
"What?" Draco frowned. "Oh, please, Potter, you're not going to make me believe that all this animosity towards me was nothing but a pathetic attempt to attract my attention? You were so jealous I'd refused to befriend you that you spent the next six years trying to make me notice you in every possible way. It would have been much easier to just acknowledge the fact you had a thing for me back then." He smiled his awkward lopsided smile.
"You're crazy, just plain crazy," Harry replied, shaking his head in disbelief.
"But you do like crazy, right?" Draco asked, his voice sounding slightly unsure.
Harry smiled softly but didn't answer.
"Anyway, on with it. Where was I?" Draco started again. "Oh, yes. Well, I had a rather uneventful adolescence-"
"Uneventful?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
Draco smiled, looking a bit smug as he rolled his eyes. "All right, all right, if you insist, I might have been a tiny bit of a rebel what with getting a tattoo and all that, but I can assure you, nothing out of the ordinary for a teenager."
Harry stared at him like he wasn't real.
"I've had my share of ups and downs, like everybody else, but all in all, these were pretty cheerful times. I have very fond memories of my home never being empty, what with Father's numerous friends hanging around all the time, it was all very jolly."
"Jolly. You would describe the time Voldemort took over the Manor with a whole bunch of Death Eaters as jolly."
"Yes, well I admit he was a tad eccentric this one. And quite tasteless when it came to his hobbies," Draco paused, a finger pressed onto his chin. "But you must admit he had a way of catching people's attention," he went on in a serious tone.
"Draco, what the hell are you talking about? You can't possibly-"
"Shut up, Potter." And Harry knew instantly the game was over as Draco abruptly sat, a sudden hard look on his face immediately taking Harry back to sixth year. "This is my way of telling the story. If you don't like it, you don't have to listen to it," he said between clenched teeth before standing up and heading for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Harry sat back in his armchair. He knew Draco had this extravagant way of always overdoing things, fuck, Harry was so used to it that the Malfoy he had known before the war almost seemed like another person entirely. But this! This was something else altogether. This was denial. Complete denial. And Harry knew it couldn't be good in the long run. You could only escape your demons for a while.
Draco stayed in the bathroom for a while. At one point, Harry was afraid he had Disapparated back to his own flat. But no. Harry could hear the water running from the tap from time to time. Draco finally went out of the bathroom, and settled back on the sofa like nothing had happened.
Harry could have been fooled if it hadn't been for his slightly red-rimmed eyes.
They went to have lunch at the local cafe and Draco was his usual self again.
Harry couldn't help laughing at Draco's constant babbling, their feet touching under the table. It was distracting, as usual, not to mention outright fun. Harry was having a great time and he felt that Draco was also enjoying himself in his company, which made him all warm inside.
After lunch, they went back to the flat and proceeded to carefully place a few items from Draco's house all over it. Draco went as far as hanging up framed paintings, adding a bit of colour on Harry's usually bare walls.
They were in the middle of an argument about whether or not to change the colour of Harry's sofa when Harry received a Firecall from Ron, a little bit worried at not having heard from his friend in a while. With all that had happened over the last few hours, Harry had completely forgotten about his best friends. He explained to Ron as best as he could that he wasn't available this weekend, that he was busy working with Malfoy and Ron surprisingly just nodded and left after a "See you Monday, then."
After that, Harry and Draco settled back to the sofa and armchair.
"Right, Potter, your turn. I want to know everything about your fascinating childhood with Muggles." The reading glasses were back on Draco's nose as he was the one taking notes now. Harry had never particularly appreciated people with reading glasses before, but as usual, nothing that had to do with Malfoy was rational in his case, including Draco himself.
"Well, there's nothing much to say, really. I was raised by my Aunt Petunia and my Uncle Vernon, living with them in Little Whinging with my cousin Dudley who's our age."
Draco scribbled the information on the notepad.
"Dudley," he murmured, before gazing up at the ceiling. "It must have been brilliant to have someone your age to play with."
"Er, well, we didn't really get on that much."
"Oh," Draco simply said, scrutinising him as if he could read Harry's deepest thoughts. "Tell me more about your life with the Muggles. I'm sure it was destabilising at times, I mean, they were Muggles," Draco said dramatically.
"I- well, it was okay if I kept to myself and didn't bother them so much," Harry shrugged.
"What do you mean?" Draco frowned and looked at him, his grey eyes bigger behind the glasses. Somehow, it was odd to be talking to Malfoy of all people about what his childhood had been. He didn't want to go into details; he didn't really know how Malfoy would react to what he had to say. But then, they were supposed to know each other, to have shared parts of their past like lovers did.
"Well," Harry started, choosing his words very carefully, "The truth is they didn't really like having me around that much."
"Was that because of your annoying propensity to be a major slob?" Draco said, delicately retrieving a blue t-shirt Harry had been looking for for days from under the cushion and holding it between his thumb and index finger.
"No, it was more to do with breathing the same air as them," Harry replied dryly.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Dumbledore left me on their doorstep the night he- the night Voldemort killed my parents. I grew up not knowing what my name meant, not knowing Magic even existed."
"Not at all? You didn't know anything about us at all?" Draco looked really surprised. Although it was logical that he had never heard of Harry's story in the first place. "Well, that explains a lot," he said with a sly smile.
"No. I didn't know, but my aunt and uncle did. And they resented me for that. They thought - probably still think - that wizards and witches were freaks. Being the son of a witch and a wizard myself, I was a constant reminder of this world they were trying hard to pretend didn't exist. Especially since I was having bursts of uncontrolled magic all the time and it scared them shitless." Harry paused to take a sip of his tea.
"In a word, you were a major pain in their arse," Draco said very seriously.
Harry cleared his throat, focusing on the mug in his hands. He was very surprised at the serious tone in Draco's voice. He knew he could be like this on rare occasions, but this felt really different, almost out of character.
"In a word, yes. I was a huge weight for them so they kept me hidden inside the house most of the time. I-" Harry hesitated.
Should he really share that much information with Draco? Draco who wasn't even a friend, Draco who was only his Auror partner after all, Draco who had a means of using info on people when he needed it. Although Harry had nothing to hide, really; there had already been a handful of unauthorised biographies on the market, so it was not as if he were to reveal a shocking piece of information. But oddly enough, his instincts told him to go for it. Not to hold anything back. Somehow, his instincts told him he could trust Draco.
"Potter?"
"Yeah, sorry. They- they would lock me up in the cupboard under the stairs. That was my room for the first ten years I spent with them."
"Excuse me? You were sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs? Were the prices so insanely high in Little Whinging that they couldn't even afford to get you a decent bedroom?"
"No, they weren't. My cousin Dudley had two bedrooms. I had this tiny space under the stairs up to the moment when Hagrid barged into my life and set things straight when I was eleven. After that, I got my own bedroom upstairs, but I was locked up in it and they would pass my meals through a trapdoor."
"Okay, Potter, that's a very good story to add to the whole poor-little-orphan-boy-abused-by-nasty-relatives. You could get millions with a story like this one, you know?"
"Yeah, well," Harry shrugged.
"I can't believe I had no idea," he said again, his gaze locking with Harry's. "All these years, I thought you had been raised as the Boy Who Lived by people who would do your bidding, and that was why you were this fucking arrogant prick all of the time," he murmured the last bit almost to himself.
"I wasn't-"
"They were bastards," Draco stated seriously. "Your aunt and uncle. And I'm not saying that because they were Muggles, although that doesn't help I guess."
Harry chuckled. "Good to see you back. I thought I had lost my Auror partner under all the concern and pitying."
"Is it true Muggles have all these little funny devices that make all kinds of weird noises?"
Harry smiled at Draco's ability to change subjects quickly when unease showed. He was happy to find a way to avoid more serious subjects from his upbringing.
"Oh yes."
They went on chatting animatedly all afternoon, talking about bits of trivia from their lives, carefully avoiding the most important subjects to focus on nice, non-problematic ones. They went for a walk in the park near the house at the end of the afternoon, Draco being Draco once again, talking loudly and making grand gestures that had half the population of the park frown at him or turn on him, although he never really seemed to realise the mayhem he created.
They ordered Chinese takeaway for dinner and spent the rest of the evening chatting happily together in Harry's living room, talking about anything and everything, in a very cosy way.
It was the best time Harry had had in God knows how long. It was nice to have someone over at his flat, particularly Draco who despite all his awkwardness, was really fun to be around.
When they started to yawn more than reasonable, they decided to call it a night.
"Right, time to go to bed," Harry said, accioing a set of sheets and blankets from the nearest cupboard. "You're gonna be all right on the sofa?"
"Why, you're not welcoming me in your bed tonight, darling?" Draco said suggestively, raising an eyebrow.
Harry froze in place and felt at a loss for words. He stood with his mouth hung open for a couple of seconds, before Draco rolled his eyes.
"Relax, Potter, I'm just kidding."
Harry slowly regained his composure. "Right, er, do you need anything else, then?"
"No, I just need to use the bathroom."
"Fine. I'll go after you."
Harry's breath caught in his throat when Draco got out of the bathroom in his pyjamas - silk pyjama bottoms and a tight grey t-shirt.
Draco sank onto the sofa, pulling the blanket over himself in the process.
"Are you going to be okay in here?"
"Of course, Potter. Have a good night."
"Right, if you need anything…"
"Don't worry, I'll ask you."
"Great. Good night."
"Night," and Draco turned to face the back of the sofa while Harry hurried to the bathroom.
Harry couldn't sleep. He was lying on his back, his hands on his stomach, staring at the ceiling.
Knowing that Draco was just a door away from him, sleeping on his sofa in his pyjamas did unspeakable things to Harry's body. He tried to think about something else, anything else, really, but it was a losing battle.
He closed his eyes and slowly let his hand roam down and crawl under the elastic band of his underpants. He gasped when he felt his fingers encircle his already painfully hard shaft and started stroking slowly. Bloody hell! Just knowing that Draco was there, right behind the door, a mere few feet away seemed to arouse Harry in more ways than he had imagined. He tried to picture Draco as he had left him - clad in his silky pyjama bottoms that complimented his gorgeous round arse and this incredibly tight t-shirt that left little to the imagination. Harry bit his bottom lip and started stroking himself faster. He knew he wouldn't be long.
A knock on his door followed by a terrifying click made him sit up abruptly in his bed and swiftly remove his hand from his underpants. In the semi-darkness, he managed to make out Draco's head by the door.
"Potter," he whispered. "I forgot to ask you. What side of the bed do you sleep on?"
"Do you really think it's important for them to know about that?" Harry replied, very annoyed, breath short, still painfully hard.
"Of course. You never know. So, what's your side?"
"I sleep on the left side of the bed."
"Oh, good, I sleep on the right, that's perfect."
"Right, go to bed now."
"Throwing me away out of your room suspiciously quickly, Potter. Why, did I interrupt you in the middle of a heated wanking session?"
"I- I-"
"See, that's why we really need to find you a boyfriend. You can't wank yourself into oblivion like that, that sure isn't very healthy."
"Good night, Malfoy,"
"Right, I'll leave you and your right hand alone. G'night, Potter." And with that, Draco closed the door and Harry let out a sigh of relief. He was even harder than before Draco had interrupted him. He frantically plunged his hand into his pants once again and resumed his stroking, his left hand tugging at his balls. Shit, he was close. He froze again when he heard Draco's voice from the other side of the door.
"You could've at least waited for me to settle back on the couch. Really, Potter, you have no decency."
It was all too much for Harry; hearing Draco's voice like that, right at this moment as he was so close already triggered something that sent him over the edge and he came hard on his stomach. He came and came and came, spurts of semen coating his chest and hitting his chin, as he tried his best to muffle his whimpers. Bloody hell! He had not come as hard in a fucking long time.
As soon as his orgasm subsided though, embarrassment washed over him as he listened hard to see if he could hear footsteps behind the door. Merlin, how embarrassing would that be if Draco had lingered there and heard him come?
He cast a quick Scourgify on himself and tried to forget all about it as much as he could. It was late when sleep finally claimed him.
"You look like shit," Malfoy said flatly as Harry entered his living-room the next morning. He was sitting on the sofa, blankets and sheets neatly folded at one end, glasses on his nose and quill in hand, a piece of parchment and the Daily Prophet spread on the coffee table in front of him.
"Good morning to you too," Harry replied with a yawn. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for the perfect boyfriend for you," Draco stated without looking up.
"What? Oh, Draco you-"
"No need to thank me, Potter. It's my pleasure. I've selected the best candidates in these ads for you. You'll meet the first one on Wednesday. You don't mind a little kink on the side, do you?" Draco asked, looking at Harry over his glasses.
"What? Are you crazy?"
Draco put his index finger on his chin and looked at the ceiling. "Well, there is a track record of something like that running in the family, apparently having to do with the inbreeding but-"
"I don't want a boyfriend," Harry said blandly, sinking into the sofa next to Draco and nevertheless peeking at the ads Draco had circled on the Daily Prophet. He frowned. "Forty-two year old sex God with a passion for covering lovers in peanut butter and an unfortunate over-sweating problem seeking simple-minded man with low expectations. Pathetic love life is a must." Harry looked at Draco in disbelief. "Really, Malfoy?"
"I'm sure he's a very attentive lover," Draco stated very seriously.
"I told you I don't want a boyfriend."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you do. You and your little friends can't stand being alone. You're craving company."
"And what about you? Why is it always all about me and never about you? Do you even date people?" Harry blurted before he could stop himself.
Draco narrowed his eyes and bit his bottom lip before standing up. "I'm gonna take a shower."
"Wait!" Harry said, standing up as well and grabbing Draco's arm, stopping him from walking away. "Why do you always shut down whenever we brush the subject?"
"Leave it, Potter," Draco said menacingly.
"No. I won't drop it until you've told me why you never talk to me about the people you date."
"Potter…" Draco growled.
"I mean you're young, you're handsome, you're fun and smart and-"
"And a fucking Death Eater, Potter. Don't you fucking get it?" Draco barked, his face flushed. "Are you really that thick or is it only for my entertainment? Death Eaters don't fucking date. See how you can't take a fucking step out in the Wizarding world because of your famous scar? Well, that's the same for me, except it's because of this fucking mistake I did when I was so fucking young and stupid."
Draco was yelling now, and ripped his left sleeve up, displaying his Dark Mark and pointing at it. "This is the fucking reason nobody ever considers getting anywhere near me, let alone date me. This is about the only thing people see in me. So you get all blasé with all your love letters? Well, do you know how many death threats I've received in the past years? Do you know how many of these letters explained in very minute details what exactly they would do to me and my family if they ever got their hands on any of us? Do you know why Father is working his arse off to find me someone decent to marry? Because nobody, nobody in their right mind would ever want to be with anyone like me."
Harry slowly looked up into Draco's eyes. "I would," he said quietly.
Draco stared fixedly at him for a moment, panting hard, a confused look on his face.
"That's not fucking funny, Potter," he seethed between clenched teeth. He took a last hard look at Harry before storming off to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
A whole hour passed during which Harry had time to prepare a full English breakfast and do a little bit of tidying up, trying hard not to think about what had happened earlier on. Their first real fight. The first time Harry had seen Draco so serious about something. And that had ended up pretty badly.
When Draco finally left the bathroom in a cloud of steam, Harry was sitting on the sofa, reading the Daily Prophet and trying to focus his attention on the inane articles.
Draco didn't say a word, and instead went to the kitchen, retrieving the saucepans and serving them both.
Harry remained on the couch, wondering what would be the best step to take next.
Finally, Draco sat down at the table and looked at Harry, his face unreadable.
"Malfoys don't apologise," Draco started. "But if they did, right now, I probably would."
Harry tried to keep a neutral face, but it was hard to prevent a smile from forming on his lips.
"Thank you for, you know, not apologising, I really appreciate it. " Harry said and joined Draco at the table. "And for the record… I'm sorry I pushed you."
Draco didn't reply. He just nodded very seriously before attacking his breakfast.
It took the whole of the meal for them to let go of the awkwardness and settle back into their easy relationship.
After that, they studied some more, trying to memorise more of each other's trivia: weight and height, boxers or briefs or what they wanted to be when they grew up - "Master of the Universe," for Draco, "Policeman," for Harry who had to explain the subtle differences between an Auror and its Muggle counterpart.
Harry was appalled to realise he already knew most of the things Draco was telling him. He had not realised how much of a stalker he had been to Draco. But then, he thought, that was nothing new.
In the evening, Harry took Draco to the cinema. Draco had never been to the cinema before, and it had been quite an experience, as Harry had thought it would.
Draco was fascinated by the screen and the film they were watching. He kept jumping in his seat, commenting loudly on everything, yelling up at the actors on the screen while the closest Muggles angrily kept changing seats until there was absolutely nobody left around them. Draco didn't seem to notice any of it.
On their way back to Harry's flat, they walked very close to each other, Harry's hand firmly planted in his pockets, while Draco's arm was brushing him, always a comforting presence.
They chatted a little bit more on the couch before going to bed.
It had been the perfect weekend, apart from the couple of tense moments. And even so. It was the first time in years - if not ever - that Harry had had such an amazing time with someone.
He realised he wanted exactly this: to be in a relationship and share bits of his everyday life with someone, like he had with Draco.
Too bad it had only been for the sake of a fucking membership.
The Committee members arrived at six thirty sharp.
Draco and Harry had gone straight to Harry's flat after their day at the Ministry, having just had the time to change into more comfortable outfits.
Harry went to greet the two men - one of them as small and oddly bushy-haired as the other was tall and bald - as Draco was quietly reading the Daily Prophet on the sofa.
Harry was nervous. Blurting out that they were a couple was one thing, getting to know each other better another one, but pretending being together in front of people who would scrutinise their each and every gesture was completely different.
"Draco, this is Mr Loras and Mr Meehan."
"Very pleased to meet you," Draco politely replied with a smile that was not reciprocated, inviting the two men to sit in the armchairs before he resumed his position on the couch. Harry went to sit next to him, avoiding the two men's gaze like the plague as Draco's leg was instantly touching his. Harry could feel his hands trembling a little on his lap. Bloody hell! One would think that after defeating the greatest Dark wizard of all times one would feel confident in front of a couple of Gentlewizards, but that was very different of course. Killing Voldemort was a necessity, an act of survival. This was for Draco.
Harry started when he felt Draco's warm hand take his and rest on his lap, because that was what couples did of course. The two men in front of him had taken out parchments and quills and were scribbling something Harry couldn't decipher from that distance.
There was a very palpable tension in the room, and that's when Harry realised this was no simple test; the two men were not only here to check on the reality of their couple, but they were probably here to find absolutely every reason not to accept Draco into the club, and they would probably do so without a second thought.
"Like Mr Langdon has probably told you," the short, bushy-haired one - Meehan, Harry thought - started sternly, "We're here to check your earlier declarations that you are indeed a couple, since the Club no longer accepts sponsoring outside the family, be it blood-related or not."
Still no smile on either faces. These two men were as cold as stone.
"Of course," Draco said. "That is perfectly understandable."
Harry couldn't help thinking it was not, but then, it wasn't his place to say anything.
"Let's start, then. How did the two of you meet?"
That was an easy one.
"We met at Madam Malkin's on Diagon Alley when we were eleven," Draco said immediately.
"On my eleventh birthday," Harry added and Draco turned to him and gave him a soft smile.
"We were babies back then," Draco said without leaving Harry's eyes, still gently caressing Harry's hand, as if they were alone in the world.
"Yeah…" Harry replied, completely enthralled, finding himself unable to divert his gaze from Draco's.
Meehan - or was it Loras? - cleared his throat and Draco and Harry both jumped and turned back to them.
"So, was it love at first sight then?"
"Oh God, no. It was rather hate at first sight," Harry joked, remembering how terrible an impression Draco had made on him back then.
"Really?" Draco turned to him again, searching his eyes. Harry was surprised at how subdued Draco was, almost shy. "I remember being pretty taken with you from the very beginning," he murmured and Harry shivered. Bloody hell, Draco was very good at this pretend relationship thing.
"Well, you can't deny we've had our share of fights over the years, you and I," Harry tried to keep the conversation on track.
"We had our little differences, that's true, although no more than any other couples," Draco said again, applying a slight pressure on Harry's hand in the process.
Harry wasn't sure every couple had had half their history; Draco had, among many other things, crushed his nose while Harry had nearly killed him by slicing him up in two after all.
"Right. You were on different sides of the war," Loras asked. "How do you go from being enemies to becoming lovers?"
Another easy question. After all, friendship was no different than love in that case.
"Well, at one point you have to realise it's better to put the past behind and move on," Harry replied. "And it's much easier to do so when you get to know the person, like it was our case once we started working together."
"But still, Mr Potter, with all due respect, your partner was on You-Know-Who's side during the war. His father welcomed him into his home. Mr Malfoy went as far as taking the Mark and becoming a Death Eater himself."
Harry instantly felt his blood boil in his veins as Draco tensed significantly next to him.
"His name was Voldemort," Harry snapped. "And yes, Draco was a Death Eater. He made some big mistakes when he was young, but should he really be condemned forever for them? Don't you believe in redemption? He's done his sentence, and has joined the Aurors to help bringing peace in the Wizarding world. What is your contribution to this noble task?"
"Harry…" Draco whispered next to him, sending an apologetic smile to the two men who glared at Harry.
"I see," Loras simply said, taking frantic notes on his parchment.
"It's a very good question, sir," Draco said, and Harry hated the desperate tone of his voice. "Like Harry said, I made a lot of mistakes when I was young, even if being young is no excuse. But I'm trying my best to make up for them now, and become a better man. Harry is an inspiration in that regard. His faith in me helps me tremendously on a day-to-day basis and I probably wouldn't be where I am now if it weren't for him. He has this effect on people."
"You know that's not true," Harry replied. "You're doing this all by yourself and would have done so even if I hadn't been around."
"See?" Draco said in disbelief, never leaving Harry's eyes. "That's what's incredible about him: no matter what he does - and boy has he done more than anyone ever would in the course of a lifetime - he has absolutely no idea how much he is worth and how much he brings to those who are lucky enough to gravitate around him. In his head, he is still the little boy in the cupboard under the stairs nobody wanted."
The last part stung more than it should have, and Harry was a bit miffed that Draco went as far as bringing this part of his childhood up. But the rest made him blush so much he could feel the heat burn on his cheeks. Bloody hell! Where did Draco find all these things to say? Harry knew Draco had a keen sense of drama, but he had never suspected he would be such a good actor. He didn't know what to think, to be perfectly honest.
"Right, I think we've seen enough," Meehan said, vanishing his quill and parchment with a flick of his wand and standing up, quickly followed by Loras. "The Club will owl you the details for the upcoming weekend."
"Wait," Harry said. "That's it? Are you not even going to tell us how we did?"
Loras took a good look at him, shamelessly detailing him from head to toe before answering. "You were both pretty convincing, I must admit. But we've caught tougher ones at this game so I wouldn't raise my expectations too much if I were you."
Bastard.
"Of course," Draco said standing up, removing his hand from Harry's and leaving it cold and empty at once. "You're only doing what is best for the Club."
"Indeed we are. Have a good evening, gentlemen." And the two men left without another word.