Do you want me on your mind or do you want me to go on

I might be yours as sure as I can say

Be gone be far away

Roses on parade, they follow you around

Upon your shore as sure as I can say

Be gone be far away

Torn by the hours, all that I say to you

Is like fuel to fire

-Agnes Obel

Saturday evening came upon Harry much faster than he thought it would. With the fall term looming, McGonagall had him so busy running errands and conducting interviews that the days became indistinguishable from one another. But it felt nice to be doing something. It felt nice to feel useful again.

The fall was looking promising. He'd already recruited several well renown witches and wizards to help with the NEWT seminars, and a good number of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws had already signed up for several sessions. He was still waiting on Draco for the Slytherins, but he was hopeful. Now if only he could figure out a way to mend things between him and Ron, they could put the entire mess of this summer behind them and finally take a step forward towards the future they had never dared to hope for.

He was taking a well deserved rest on his bed, trying to brainstorm ideas on how to talk to Ron, when he heard a tapping on his window. Harry raised his head, and saw Draco's owl perched on his windowsill. Scrambling, Harry threw himself off of the bed and yanked open the window. Draco's owl seemed to look at him dubiously, and gave a disdainful hoot.

"Oh sod off," Harry muttered, untying the letter from his foot. He took the note to his desk, and Draco's owl hopped in after him, ruffling his feathers expectantly. Harry called for Kreacher to bring some mice from the basement, and unfolded the letter.

Harry,

Be ready by 7pm. And wear a tie—preferably silver to match the color of my eyes, because that's the sort of ridiculous thing people in relationships do. You do own a tie right? I'll bring some extras just in case.

-D.M.

Harry checked his watch. It read 6:32pm. "Bloody hell." Harry stood so abruptly that he nearly upended his chair, and made his way towards the bathroom, stripping and throwing his clothes haphazardly across the hall.

His hair was still wet by the time Draco arrived, but he was showered, shaved, and dressed. He opened the front door to find Draco in a set of stunning, silver robes, as pale and iridescent as moonlight. His blonde hair was swept back neatly to one side, the ends curling against his ears and the nape of his neck. The collar of his shirt was held together by an emerald studded snake with ruby eyes, and it seemed to wink suggestively at Harry as the jewels glistened in the dim light of the entryway. He looked like something that had just strolled out of a dream.

Draco beamed at him. "I know."

Harry swallowed, and stepped aside so that Draco could walk in. "Know what?"

"I look fantastic!" Draco eyed him up and down slowly, the left corner of his mouth dimpling. "You don't look so bad yourself. Glad I brought along a different tie though. That one simply won't do." With a flourish, Draco pulled a silken green tie from his robe pocket and stepped in to start undoing Harry's tie.

Draco's sudden close proximity left Harry's pulse pounding, and he felt himself holding his breath to keep from trembling. Nimble fingers made quick work of his current tie, and started tying the new one using more loops than Harry cared to count. Instead, he was distracted by the small indent in the center of Draco's bottom lip. He vaguely wondered if Draco would mind if he kissed it.

"So," Harry attempted, "a green tie, huh? Is that to match my eyes?"

Draco gave a soft snort of amusement through his nose. "And my brooch. Look closely." Draco nodded down at the tie.

With effort, Harry managed to pull his gaze from Draco's face down to the tie. A thin set of wavy, silver stripes ran diagonally down the length of the tie, or at least, Harry thought they were stripes until they caught the light. "Snakes?" Harry glanced back up at Draco.

"Very good. With your impressive repertoire of knowledge on the animal kingdom it's a wonder McGonagall isn't having you teach the Care for Magical Creatures seminars."

Harry ignored him. "Don't you think it's a little…"

"Ophidiophilic?"

"I was going to say Slytherin. Ovidio-what? Where do you even learn these words?"

"Ophidiophilic. It means a love of snakes. And I learn them in books." Draco finished tying the tie and stepped back to admire his handiwork. With a nod he said, "Much better."

Harry wedged his finger between the cloth and his neck, trying to loosen the knot's choking grip. "Do you read dictionaries?"

"Leave it!" Draco swatted his hand away, and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him out the door and onto the stoop. "And some of us like to have vocabularies broader than the tip of a toothpick."

"That wasn't a no."

"Sod off and pay attention to my romantic gesture you twit." Draco pointed towards the street.

Harry's eyes followed the line of his finger to the street, where a black coach sat waiting. There were four thestrals tethered to its front end, and a rather grim looking ghost sitting in the coachman's seat. Heart catching in his throat, Harry looked at Draco, "Draco…you didn't have to—"

Draco waved him off. "It's one of the perks of being a member of the Club. Complimentary valet service and, more importantly," he grinned like a cat that just got the cream, "complimentary champagne."

"Isn't there a rule against drinking on the first date?"

For a moment, Draco looked appalled. "What kind of dark soul would concoct such an ungodly rule?"

"One that enjoys sober decisions?"

"So a eunuch then?"

Harry goggled at him as they made their way down the steps towards the street. "You do realize that you're insane, right?"

"Insane for enjoying drinking and sex? That seems like an awfully harsh label, Potter."

"I never said it was a bad thing."

At that, Draco's expression brightened. The smooth planes of his face lifted and warmed, his eyes like two stars lighting up the dark around them. They reached the coach, and Draco opened the door, and with a ridiculous bow, ushered Harry inside.

The inside of the coach was much nicer than the inside of the Hogwarts coaches. Where the coaches at Hogwarts were spotted and stained and had been worn to a patchy earl grey, these seats were an utterly pristine black leather with a satin finish. The panels along the doors and roof were lined with a rich, cherry wood, and accented with polished silver bars along the four corners that met in the center of the ceiling to create an elaborate star.

Behind him, Draco made an impatient noise. "Stop gawking and sit down would you?"

Blushing, Harry sat.

Draco stepped in, closed the door behind him, and took a seat across from Harry. He spread his robes out around him, arranging them so that they wouldn't be pressed against the back of his seat or bunched under his legs. Harry glanced down at his own robes, which were already horribly wrinkled and dusty at the hems.

The coach gave a small jerk as it rolled away from the curb.

"So where are we going?" Harry asked timidly.

"Nowhere you've ever been before, I assure you" Draco replied, looking preoccupied with refastening his broach.

Harry shifted and their knees knocked together. Draco's eyes hit him like a slap. Neither of them moved.

The coach jerked again, upwards this time as the coach lifted off into the air, and Harry was rocketed forward, barely catching himself before his forehead crashed into Draco's. His arms trembled on either side of Draco's shoulders, the muscles stinging from the force of the impact. Draco stared up at him, the full circle of his irises starkly outlined by white.

"Sorry," Harry breathed, but he didn't move back. His knee was balanced between Draco's thighs, and he could feel heat radiating from the body beneath him like he was standing next to a fire.

"I was wondering when something like this would happen," Draco whispered against him.

"Like what?"

Draco swallowed, and Harry was close enough to hear the wet sound as it traveled down his throat. "Something horrendously cliche where we're thrown together by an extenuating circumstance and we find ourselves stuck in a moment where we're staring at each other from way too close, breathing each other's breath, both knowing what we want but—"

Harry kissed him.

After a moment, Draco melted into him, his hands slipping into the folds in Harry's robes and skirting along his ribs. He pulled Harry against him, so that Harry ended up folded across his lap. Draco's mouth moved against his like a warm current, his lips plush, soft, and achingly tender. Harry breathed him in, letting Draco's cool, crisp scent envelop him and send a mist across his mind.

Draco nipped at his bottom lip, and Harry shuddered pleasantly. "Merlin, how long has it been since I last saw you?" Draco asked.

"I dunno." Harry grazed his teeth along the line of Draco's jaw, and felt the skin of Draco's neck become gooseflesh. "A week?"

"Only a week?" The timbre of Draco's voice is a low and pleasant hum. "It feels like it's been ages."

Whatever answer Harry had meant to give came out in the form of a small groan as he captured Draco's lips once more, his tongue darting out to taste the smooth flesh. Harry gripped at Draco's shoulders as Draco's fingers tightened against his ribs. They pulled at Harry's shirt, yanking the fabric free from his trousers and burrowing beneath. Draco's hands were overwhelmingly warm against his shower-cooled skin, their heat sinking into his blood as he was pulled crushingly close. Harry's head spun as he tried to remember how to breathe and taste Draco at the same time. He felt as if he was lifting off; as if there was a small, hollow place in the back of his skull where his consciousness was retreating to, leaving the rest of him free to float away. All he knew was the antagonizing need to feel the graze of Draco's tongue against his lips, and know the taste of pale skin on a warm summer night.

Draco's hand shifted lower, the curve of his thumb pressing into the tender flesh next to Harry's hipbone. Harry jolted against him as the pressure sent a white spark straight up his spine. Purposefully, Draco nudged Harry's head back with his nose, and sent a soft breath skittering across Harry's pulse point. Clenching his teeth, Harry pressed his eyes shut, unable to keep a moan locked behind his lips.

"Harry…I can't…" Draco's hands tightened their hold as his teeth scraped against Harry's neck. Nails dragged along the lines of Harry's nerves, pouring a dark yearning into the pit of his stomach. He could feel himself being pulled down into a place where thought and morality no longer existed, and he was slowly drowning in it.

With the last ounce of willpower he had, Harry pushed Draco back. "Can't what?" His words somehow sounded both very loud and very far away.

Draco was breathing heavily, his pupils blown wide and shadowing the silver of his irises like an eclipse. He stared at Harry for what seemed like a long time, until the silence between them grew too restless to be kept. "We can't do this. We need to talk about it first."

"Oh." Harry bit the outer corner of his lip. "Did you not li—"

"Potter, don't you dare ask me if I didn't like it. That's not my wand in my pocket you know."

Harry felt himself go red, and was suddenly very conscious of keeping himself very still.

Rolling his eyes, Draco continued, "I'm going to let you go now, and you're going to go sit over there and straighten yourself up. We'll be there soon and I'm not going to show up at Le Canard Aveugle with a debauched looking date on my arm." He lowered his chin. "Then we'll talk, like you wanted, alright?"

Reluctantly, Harry nodded and Draco let him go.

Harry retreated back to his side of the coach, straightening his tie, and hoping that Draco wouldn't notice that he'd made it a little looser than before. He tucked the ends of his shirt back into his trousers and vainly tried to ignore how blatant his own excitement had become. "Hey, Draco?" He paused, biting the inside of his cheek.

There was a pronounced pause before Draco asked, "Is that the complete question, or is there more to it?"

"When did you know you were gay?"

Draco choked, his brows lifting. "Well that's rather sudden."

"Is it?"

"And I'm not gay, I'm pansexual."

"Oh," Harry said, blinking. "Well when did you know you were—er—that?"

"Potter…" Draco seemed to struggle, and his eyes kept darting down to Harry's tie. "Does it concern you that you like kissing me?"

"It concerns me that I didn't know I would like it until I did it. I'd never even thought about kissing another boy until…"

Draco was still frowning as he stared at the space just beneath Harry's jawline. "In your defense, you had a lot of other things on your mind. Defeating a Dark Lord, for instance. And trying to find a conditioner that could actually tame that messy mop of yours. I guess one proved easier to do than the other."

"My hair's not that bad!" Harry whined even as he reached up to try and press it into place. It stuck up through his fingers defiantly.

"You're not actually going to leave your tie like that are you?"

"What?"

"It's driving me nuts." Then suddenly, Draco was out of his seat and hunching over Harry, his fingers pressing against the collar of his shirt. "Let me fix it."

Again, Harry tried not to breathe with Draco so close to him. He also tried not to stare at his mouth, which was inconveniently located at eye level. Incidentally, he didn't really succeed at either.

"You know," Draco began slowly, his fingers pausing, "you can take your time figuring it out. You don't have to," his fingers started working again, this time with harder purpose, "…force yourself."

Harry swallowed and pointedly looked away from the appetizing dimple on Draco's bottom lip. "I'm not forcing myself."

Draco only hummed, finishing off the tie and moving back to his seat. Turning, he opened a small compartment in the door panel and pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He muttered a quick spell that popped the cork, and began pouring, handing the first glass to Harry before pouring a larger portion in his own. Harry stared down at the shimmering liquid, the sharp, tangy smell of it burning his nose.

"Shall we toast?" Draco asked as he placed the champagne bottle back into the door compartment.

"To what?"

Draco's lips quirked. "How about," he drew out the last vowel, "confused sexual identity."

Harry grimaced at him. "I don't think I'm confused."

"To not knowing you're confused about being confused about your sexual identity!" Draco raised his glass and clanged it softly against Harry's. The Slytherin brought the rim to his mouth and upended the flute. The champagne slid into his mouth and traveled down his throat with an audible gulp. His glass was half empty by the time he was done, and he seemed to immediately notice that Harry's wasn't. "Why aren't you drinking?"

Harry looked down at his glass thoughtfully. "Why don't we toast to something else?"

"Like what?"

"How about…us? Let's toast to us."

Draco's glass was about halfway back to his mouth when he paused and lowered it once more. His eyes narrowed, and an odd sort of malcontent settled over his features, rendering them hard and sharp around the edges. "Toast to what? Six years of unadulterated hatred, one year of absence, and barely two months of…" he gestured between them, "whatever this is?"

"Friendship?" Harry offered.

"Friends don't kiss, Potter."

Harry sighed heavily, his gaze falling to his knees. "You can call me Harry you know."

"I know," Draco replied without skipping a beat.

Heat wrapped itself around Harry's chest and squeezed tight. He felt his lungs constrict as his breath drew short. He looked at Draco. "Are you trying to start a fight with me or something?"

Draco shrugged and downed the rest of his champagne. "Perhaps," he said, reaching into the compartment, drawing out the bottle and pouring himself another generous glass. "It's proving a difficult habit to break."

"Well if you're trying to make a point, it's not going to work. I'm not going to fight with you."

Draco's responding hum was lost in a long drink.

The carriage jolted to a sudden stop. Harry hadn't even felt them touch ground.

The door to the coach swung open silently. Harry looked around for a place to put his still full glass of champagne, before Draco took it from his hand and downed both Harry's portion and his own like they were shots of Firewhiskey. He tossed the glasses back into the compartment, and Harry heard them shatter against the paneling. With a lopsided grin, Draco gestured towards the door. "After you."

Huffing, Harry exited the coach and found himself on the sidewalk of a well lit street, standing just outside of the restaurant entrance. The building was only a couple of stories tall, and made from an old brown brick that was marked with aged craftsmanship. It was smushed tightly between two taller structures on either side, but neither were nearly as warm or bright. The smell of freshly baked sourdough bread wafted through the air, and Harry felt his mouth water.

"Come on." Draco grabbed him by the wrist and escorted him through the restaurant entrance. A tall man standing behind a wooden desk met them in the entryway. He was currently busy writing something down in a large leather book.

"Reservation?" the man asked without looking up from his task.

Draco dropped Harry's arm and stepped forward. "Oh, yes. The reservation should be under the name Malfoy."

"Malfoy, yes sir, I—" The man jolted, his eyes going wide as they snapped up to look at Draco. "Sorry…what was that name again?"

Harry felt something in his stomach sink as he saw a sickening smile spread Draco's lips.

"Malfoy. M-a-l-f-o-y. I can see it on your list right there."

"I—are you Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"The one and only!"

Harry moved forward, pressing his hand into Draco's lower back. He felt the muscles there bunch beneath his touch. "Draco?"

The man stepped back from the desk, his hand going into his pocket and coming back out with his wand. "I'm sorry sirs, but I'm going to have to ask you both to leave. We don't serve Death Ea—" the man cut off as his eyes found Harry for the first time. His entire face went slack, as if he'd just been slapped. "Merlin…you're Harry Potter."

Draco tried to shift away from him, but Harry's hand was around his hip before he could get far. "I am," Harry said sternly, his eyes fixed on the man's wand and his temper quaking just below the surface. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd show us to our table now."

"I—Mr. Potter," the man stuttered as he lowered his wand. "Y—you have to understand, we cannot serve Death Eaters at this establishment."

"He's not a Death Eater," Harry practically growled.

"Indeed," Draco drawled. "We should be specific about our semantics. I was a Death Eater."

The man's face went white.

Temper flaring, Harry turned to glare at Draco and pushed him back towards the entrance. "Excuse us," Harry seethed as he herded Draco back through the door and out onto the sidewalk.

"Potter!" Draco jerked away from him. "There's no need to manhandle!"

"What the hell was that?"

Grey eyes narrowed to slits of muted silver. "What was what?"

"That, in there!" Harry's tone was like sandpaper scraping against stone. "You advertising that you were a Death Eater!"

"I'm sorry, are you ashamed to have a Death Eater as a date?"

"Don't be stupid, of course I'm not ashamed of you! But it's not something you should be bloody gloating about!"

"I wasn't gloating!" Draco yelled, his hands balling into fists at his sides and his shoulders going rigid. "I was telling the truth! And it's something you'd better get used to, because this is how it's going to be everywhere we go! People are going to know who I am, and they're going to say and do things that I can't protect you from!"

Harry floundered. "Is that what this is about?" he threw the question at Draco like an accusation. "Did you set this up because you think that I can't handle what people say about us? Merlin, I thought we'd been over this! I don't care!"

A wave of pink rolled over Draco's cheeks and down the sides of his neck. He looked as if he was trying to hex Harry by sheer force of will. "You can't just push something like this aside, Potter! The Daily Prophet will destroy you, and it will destroy your friends by proxy! You think they won't care?"

"I've had bad articles about me in the Prophet before!"

"Yes, but you had Hogwarts protecting you then! And Dumbledore! They could write about you, but they couldn't touch you. It's not like that in the real world, Potter. You have to start being realistic—"

"Stop!" Harry surged forward, grabbing Draco by the shoulders. "Stop calling me by my last name! And stop trying to hide the fact that you're scared by trying to convince me that I am!"

"You only say that because you don't know!"

"Don't know what?" Harry returned.

Draco's face went slack as the air around them seemed to pull itself taut. Harry could feel the muscles beneath his fingers coil, winding tight like a spring. He fully expected a fist to slam across his jaw, but it never came. Draco simply stared at him, quaking with some emotion that Harry didn't dare name.

"I…" Draco blinked several times and shook himself before he continued, "Nothing. Never mind. Do you want to go grab coffee somewhere?"

"Draco…"

"Please? Just…can we go?"

Harry stared at him, his temper wavering like a candle in the wind. "I don't—what about our reservation?"

"You wouldn't have liked anything on the menu. I made sure of it."

Even though Harry knew he should be offended by the remark, he decidedly wasn't. "Do you know of a place nearby?"

Draco nodded. "There's a little muggle place a few blocks off. Star—something. Can we walk there?"

"You don't want to take the romantic gesture?" Harry asked, releasing Draco's shoulders.

"I like walking."

"Then let's walk."

Draco started off down the sidewalk, and Harry fell into step next to him. They walked in silence for a couple of blocks, and Harry pointedly ignored the stares and whispers he and Draco received from passersby. They were far from original. Instead he admired the way the lamplight lit Draco's silhouette, making his hair and robes shimmer like gold instead of silver. He looked warm and soft to the touch. Harry wondered if Draco would mind him trying to take his hand.

"Are you angry at me?"

Draco's question startled Harry out of his inner debate about hand holding. He looked at the other boy, his lips pursing. "For trying to sabotage our date you mean?"

"If that's how you'd prefer to phrase it."

Harry sighed, shifting his gaze to the sidewalk. "I don't want to fight with you," he replied honestly. "And I don't want to be angry."

"But are you?" Draco asked.

Harry looked at him again, trying not to think about how looking at Draco, all pale colors and cold edges, made him wish it was winter. "No. I don't think so."

"If it helps, I tried to sabotage our date for completely sensible and equitable reasons."

"Even if I knew what the word equitable meant, I still don't think I'd agree with you."

The muscles in Draco's face didn't seem to know what to do, but they finally ended up settling on a well constructed sneer. But the amusement glimmering in his eyes was the only thing that Harry could see. "That's because your recalcitrant."

Harry shouldered him, and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. "Now you're just showing off," he said, laughing. "And no I'm not!"

"You don't even know if recalcitrant is a bad thing."

"I think it's a safe assumption, considering that you're using it to describe me."

"True." Draco attempted to grin at him, but the expression withered before it was fully formed. His fingers tightened around Harry's hand.

Harry squeezed back gently. "Is everything alright?"

Draco sighed, and Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"I'm really not mad if that's not what you're worried about."

"Oh…no." Draco shook his head, his gaze falling to the pavement. "That's not it. I…I saw Goyle this morning."

Harry could't decipher from Draco's tone whether seeing Goyle was a good thing or a bad thing. Somehow it sounded like both. "Oh?" he pressed.

"He just showed up at the manor out of the blue during breakfast. Mother made the biggest fuss when she saw him." Draco fell silent once more, his grip on Harry's hand so tight it was starting to become painful.

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?" Harry asked unsurely. "Him dropping by?"

There was a hard pulse of silence. "He came because Blaise was arrested last night."

The words hit Harry like a punch to the throat.

"Goyle came because he's scared they'll come after him next and that his little sister will be left all alone. They arrested both of his parents months ago so now it's just the two of them. He thinks…he thinks that I can protect him from the Ministry—that since no one in my family has been arrested yet, I could get him some kind of amnesty."

"I…" Harry let out a heavy breath. "I didn't know that Goyle had a little sister."

"Not many people do. His parents keep it pretty quiet since she's a squib."

"How old is she?"

"Twelve," Draco answered.

"Merlin." Harry ran a hand through his hair. Even though he'd never known his parents, he still felt a sharp sting of empathy in the pit of his stomach. Sure he'd never liked Goyle much, but that didn't mean that he thought that Goyle deserved to lose his family. Losing everything like that while still so young was arguably worse than never having it at all. "What did you tell him?"

Draco looked at him, pulling Harry to a stop. "I took him back to his house, helped he and his sister pack, and I took them to Hogwarts. McGonagall said that she would help them as long as Goyle agreed to attend the fall and spring sessions."

"Draco," Harry said, "that's great!"

"I also got him to agree to work in the kitchens. I know he doesn't seem the type but he's really an excellent baker, and I told him that having an upstanding job would help him look good to the Ministry."

Harry beamed at the other boy. "Draco…I don't know what to say. I don't understand why you seem so upset. You helped him."

"Did I?" Draco asked, pulling Harry to a stop. His face looked pale and stricken with uncertainty. "What if McGonagall can't protect them? What if he gets arrested anyway? They got Blaise and he never even took the mark."

"McGonagall wouldn't say she could help if she didn't believe that she could. She's strong, and scary as hell when it comes down to it." Harry took Draco's other hand in his own. "You did the right thing."

But Draco didn't seem convinced. He looked away, his gaze drawn to the dark horizon. "And what happens when the Ministry finally comes after me?" The question was so soft and so stark that it felt as if it had emerged from a dream. Draco looked at him, his eyes shining gold in the lamplight. "Because they will come, you know. Those Aurors aren't raiding my house every week for nothing. It's like they're saving us for last—the grand finale in their spectacular fireworks show. It will make for a great headline, don't you think? The last of the Death Eaters finally locked behind bars! I should really try to barter for a share of the profits that issue will make."

"Draco…don't."

"What will you do when they finally take me?" A cruel smile was beginning to spread Draco's lips. "Will you stage a protest? Be the lone soul standing in the street, crying for my freedom?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally managed a response. "I won't let them take you." It took him a moment to realize that this was exactly what Ron had been talking about the last time they'd spoken.

Draco's eyes grew hard, and the color in them dropped like lead. "I don't think you understand. This isn't another challenge. This isn't an obstacle you can overcome."

"Like hell it isn't. I defeated Voldemort. Me. I went through hell and back again to do it. And I don't care what sort of case they've built or what evidence they've found against you, they owe me something for that."

"Harry…"

"Draco…how I feel about you—nothing has ever come close to it. There isn't a moment when I'm not with you that I'm not thinking about you, and when I'm with you, all I can think about is how I never want it to end. I don't know what it all means, but I know that there's no way that I'm going to let someone else take it away from me. I'll bring Azkaban to the ground if I have to. They aren't going to take you away."

Something in Draco's face changed then. Every groove in his face grew smooth, and a bright, warm color bloomed across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He seemed to see Harry for the first time that evening, and Harry felt something imperceptible heat the air between them.

"What?" Harry asked, fidgeting under the weight of the following silence. He hadn't meant to say all of that aloud. It had just poured out of him, suddenly and unstoppably.

Draco swallowed. "I'm going to kiss you now. Is that alright?"

Harry blinked at him, his tongue lodged against the roof of his mouth.

"Alright." Draco pulled one of his hands from Harry's to wrap around the back of Harry's neck. The sudden feeling of smooth, warm skin sent a pleasant shiver skittering down Harry's spine. And then Draco pulled him forward and they were kissing.

Harry stumbled, pressing Draco back into the nearest building and delighting in the resulting sigh that Draco breathed into him. He tasted like sharp citrus and wet sugar, and Harry couldn't help but drag his tongue along the inside of Draco's mouth, lapping up the flavor.

"Harry," Draco whispered against him, nipping at the edge of his lips, "there's something else I should tell you."

Growling, Harry pressed him harder back into the brick. Draco gasped as they rocked together. "Later," Harry said, kissing him again.