Along with the news of Azalea actually visiting them, arrived Draco's desire to sleep elsewhere that night despite the awareness of the plan of going to a nightclub. It could work though, Draco assured himself with a frown on his lips, could just pick someone from the club. However unfavorably bold that sounded, it would have to do the part since his heart refused to sleep anywhere in the hearing vicinity of Harry and Azalea's drunken moans during the night, which he had presumed would be the case.

Hence, when they summoned their cue to getting ready for the occasion, Draco had pulled out the most flattering piece of outfit from his pile of clothes in the suitcase, even after feeling cheap at the heart for making such a move, yet the situation called for the drastic step from him and he couldn't resist. In his room for over an hour, he corrected the prussian blue ribbon around his collar of the black blouse, which was paired with a matching holographic set of sparkly partially fitting pants and blazer.

"Draco?" Pansy's voice resounded with a knock on the wood of the door.

"Come in," Draco called her and the slim body squeezed through the thin crack she parted the door apart into.

"Holy moly," Pansy whistled as she clicked in the room with her knee length boots. "Draco, you look handsome."

"Do I?" he tried to smirk but a blotch of pink rose up to his cheeks as he shied back at his reflection on the mirror of the dresser.

"Yes!" she skipped on her toes. "You just need to paint your nails, blue or black."

"Paint my nails?" Draco exclaimed, bewildered.

"Stop making it such a big deal. I know you like them." Pansy rolled her eyes at him and summoned a tiny bottle from her room, opening the door just in time as the bottle came zooming in through the gap.

"Seriously though, that doesn't mean I'd want to wear them. I'm a man — "

"I know you're a man!" Pansy huffed catching hold of the bottle. "Trivial nailpolish won't make you any less of a man, for Christ's sake."

"What would people think — "

"You don't know nothing about true women, if that's what you're talking about." Pansy sighed with a glare directed towards Draco. "Do you want to put it on, though? It's your choice."

Biting on his lower lip, he turned back to the mirror with a light frown of contemplation without uttering another word and Pansy grabbed the hem of her black leather skirt ending just above the boots, paired with a golden sequin top.

"Okay, I will — "

"Yes!"

Every other second his eyes traveled to the porcelain skin of the unknown woman walking in front of him with practiced stealth that dated back to years prior in Hogwarts, despite of the knowledge of his actions being unethical and there was a serious lack of determination in him to keep tough. Just beside Azalea, who was donned in a beautiful silver silk dress that glistened in the moonlight with delicious softness, walked Harry, with all his glory, in a black base shirt stamped with stars loosely hanging over the dark skinny jeans that Draco was yet to decide the color of in the dim lit beach.

Sure they had decided on going to a nightclub, but the news of the presence of a nightclub near the beach had perked them up even more than before. Hence, with an unending layer of sand beneath their feet, they strolled about in the open with bottles of beer clutched in hand.

By the time he had walked out of the room, Azalea was already present in the hallway with the other, chatting on to know the names of the group members with the brilliant smile plastered to her lips that had Draco staring at her from the very beginning. Though, the inclusion of the beach in the plan had, to some extent, soiled the effect of his outfit, he still could see unknown faces that seemed a lot interested in him than the beach ahead.

"I'm heading in for another drink. Anyone coming?" Harry called as he stood up from the bench they had grabbed around the club.

Lacking the will to provide the man with the satisfaction of looking at him, he stared affront with a feign of not hearing him, even when his answer echoed in his ears with a yes, yes, yes. Glancing at his beer bottle to check the content, Draco decided, on grabbing the chance, since the bottle was almost empty anyway.

"Yeah, let's go." he nodded his head.

For a club so small, the dance floor was packed with people seemingly too drunk to care about the uncomfortable closeness of the other's dancing with them, for they were smiling with their eyes closed and hands raised in the air.

With Harry just in front of him, Draco contemplated on the thought of asking him about his girlfriend, I mean, how they met and all, Merlin! With a scoff at himself he continued towards the bar counter with a sweep of the curtain of hair falling on his right eye.

"What would you like to have, gentlemen?" the bartender asked with a smile.

"I...want a whiskey on the rocks." Harry ordered with a glance towards him.

"And make me a Bloody Mary, please." Draco ordered, nodding his head.

"So..." Harry started beside him probably with an intension of making small talks. "What's up with your nails?"

"It was Pansy." Draco's reply was immediate merged with a shy smile. "She thought it'd enhance my look."

"Well, yeah," Harry nodded his head as his eyes traveled around his blazer and hair. "She can never be wrong with fashion." he laughed.

A nervous laugh broke his stature when he bent down just a little to hide his blush that had crept up his cheeks. The fact that they were still not drunk tuned in with his consciousness to remind him that his signature words were still not rolling out of his tongue now and then to maintain the normalcy.

"I do look good, yes." he nodded his head, when the bartender pushed his cocktail towards him, throwing in a subtle hint of interest in the conversation.

"Ah, well," Harry sighed. "Since you have already mentioned it, it's got to be true."

"Stop beating around the bush, Harry Potter." Draco passed over his glass.

"It's my tendency." the other shook his head with a gentle laugh.

"Sure it is."

"Sorry,"

The music changed its tune to a tragic pop, and Draco turned towards the dance floor with his eyebrows raised, observing the sweaty dancers colliding with each other, every second and muttering futile apologies with a grimace.

"Do you know her?"

"Huh?" Draco turned to find Harry looking to the other side of the counter knowingly.

He definitely knew the woman Harry was talking about. It was Clementine Morph, an ex Slytherin, graduated in the July of 1997, currently eyes fixated on him over the rim of her wine glass. Unsure of his words, he waved at her low and light, paired with a smile.

"Who's that?" Harry asked beside him.

"Ex student of Hogwarts, a year senior to us." he spoke without turning to his company, as he saw her walking towards him in a leisurely pace.

"Hello, Draco." according to him, it came off as odd and cold with a hand on his arm light as feather, but soon he dismissed it as the effect of the deep voice she owned giving off the air of an authoritarian person.

"Hello, Clementine. How have you been?" he asked in return.

"I'm good, yes." her eyes shifted to Harry for a brief quarter of second. "Is he your company?" she asked, voice deep yet smooth, just like Draco remembered her.

"Yes, one of them. The rest are out on the beach, Blaise, Pansy...you know them." Draco nodded his head.

"Nice to meet you, Harry Potter." she offered him a hand to shake with a sweet smile stretching her maroon colored lips. "I'm Clementine Morph. We have the same roots but different branches, I guess."

"Yes, you must have been a Slytherin." Harry laughed politely, as he shook the hand with a delicate hold.

"Yes, indeed." she nodded, and Draco glanced between them uneasily.

"So, what have you been upto?" Morph turned back to Draco, her hand back on his arm.

"Nothing much. I'm taking a course of Healer, and that's all about it." from the corner of his eyes, he saw Harry move a bit with his drink. Supressing the urge to turn his way, he lock eyes with black orbs insteadand something smug laughed inside him.

"I'll be out," he muttered to Draco and was gone within a second leaving him to worry about the woman standing before him in a red velvet dress that ended with a border of lacy ruffles an inch above her knees.

"Good, good." refering to Draco's previous words, her eyes shifted to her own hand on his arm, rubbing the fabric between her fingers.

The touch was really gentle, and he doubted he would have felt it if he wasn't aware of her presence or not looking at her as she bent down on the counter with a sigh that fanned him in the face.

"You know, it was much easier back in school. Once you get out of there, things just get really tiring and stressful." her fingers travelled down to his hand, scrutinizing his nails with sparkling eyes.

Draco hummed, barely paying attention to her words, for it was drawn to the skin exposed by the V of the dress plunging low on her chest. Next, her words divulged into the discription of the private investigation agency she owned in Bicester, and all the while her fingers traveled from his arm to face then to the skin below the ribbon around his neck, an idle touch brushing the skin ever so lightly.

"Do you have plans tonight?"

As bad as he had wanted to move out of the cabin for the night in his rage of revenge, mulling over the thought, he retracted an inch when the idea of leaving the group behind didn't suit him good. After all, he was going back to his mother's apartment tomorrow to spend the weekend with her before he departed for Newport again.

"This is me executing it." Draco said low, knowing she would hear with her face just an inch away.

"Can't they excuse you for a night?" soft lips touched the loose skin of his ear, and he laughed.

Draco nodded his head slowly, and said, "They definitely can, but, I don't want to leave them behind. I'm going back to Welsh the day after."

"Okay," she breathed, withdrawing her mouth from his ear, but brushed her face against his while pulling away. "Okay, but — come with me." she whispered again while her fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist. "Just a few minutes,"

There was an unusual apeal in the woman, which pulled him through the crowd towards the men's washroom. Breath shortened by her words, he noticed the couple centimetres more the slit of the dress revealed of her right thigh, the lace brushing the skin as she walked in a quick pace with his hand in her grip. The music playing behind him could be blamed, but so could be the alcohol in his system for the minute details he noticed about her, like the bounce of her back as she walked, or the fabric of her dress riding up with the fast movement of her legs showing off even more skin for him.

The door of the stall locked behing him as soon as they entered the cubicle in a flurry of clothes brushing against each other. Two hands grabbed at his ribs and pushed him against a wall and started devouring on his mouth. Draco's hands were fast to grab her hips to gain the little leverage he could in the smallness of the toilet, with her hands pressed to his chest.

There was a moment when his mind travelled to the people waiting for him on the beach, to Harry who had informed him about his whereabouts before heading out, and then to Azalea kissing Harry, laughing with her head on his shoulder, and he couldn't decide if he was jealous of Harry or her, or of both for having each other. But the thought was gone when Morph pulled his shirt out of its neat tuck and slid a hand under the fabric.

"God," she uttered making Draco open his eyes.

"What?" he asked, confused at her frustration.

"This looks so fine on you." she said keeping his question unanswered.

"Thanks — "

"It's a big trouble in these situations...ugh!" Draco laughed and passed a lame apology towards her before getting distracted by her smudged lipstick.

Swift hands touched the soft flesh of her behind and squeezed hard as she groaned between the kiss, stabbing nails in his abs in return probably in hopes of wringing out the same reaction from him, but it only aroused him more.

"Merlin — "

His hands hands travelled upward to her breasts that were mostly holding him back, and he turned to press her back against the wall, dragging a wet kiss down her jaw on the way. The skin stretched between his teeth when he bit at the pulse throbbing at her neck, just below the sharp jawbone framing her face.

"Ah," Morph breathed, scratching a trail of red lines by her nails. "Well — that's enough, now."

Shaky fingers latched at his flyers, despite of the cut in her tone which gave Draco a hard time breathing normally, and unfastened them with one hand while the other grabbed his neck in a hard grip to drag him into another kiss.

"Ugh — I swear to Merlin, I'll rip your shirt off." Morph huffed on the lack of buttons for her leverage, after a fierce tug at the smooth fabric.

"I can do the same with your dress, if you'd like." Draco laughed when she pushed him on the toilet seat with his pants halfway down to the knees, while helping her to lift her dress, revealing the solid red panties reaching upto her hip bones. "Then you can go back home in your panties."

Long fingers grabbed his face and he closed his eyes sensing the weight that sat on his bare thighs, just an inch away from his member. "I'm most definitely taking you with me, then."

With a tongue travelling his mouth, the chances of him speaking anymore were cancelled, leaving with only the liberty of moaning when wet heat finally pressed down on his crotch, rolling in prominent circles with intentions of increasing the hotness building around their stomachs wailing to be rode. Without a care of their clothes getting soaked in perspiration despite of the cold of the whether or the fibre walls surrounding them, Draco let go of the built up tension constricting his heart from the Christmas Eve, with the memories of the hand wrapped around Harry's waist from the very beginning of the day, of the lips that had kissed him a hundred times within the twenty hours, and of the body pressed to his like a crawler on a bark.

Comparing the times would be lame for the purpose, since the task of hiding the pink hue on his face was much harder with a lot more eyes on him than before, though, handling it was pretty simple for him with a couple of snarky comments paired with the eye roll. It was better than feeling embarrassed by the secrecy, even if Harry passed silly looks over Azalea's shoulder.

Hasty goodbyes and goodnights had been bidden with a faint wish of seeing each other again someday. The fact that his mind was completely trained on Harry's reaction was unnerving him to the point that he once scoffed at particularly nothing yet everything when their eyes met again to pass the unknown expression the man had been giving him since the last few hours.

The hour they returned to the cabin might not have been decent but no one really bothered about mentioning it, noting that they had the whole weekend to relax and overcome any side-effects of the night. For the few moments that Draco remained conscious after returning, he regretted his decision of not going away with Clementine solely because of the fact that Azalea and Harry just couldn't let go of each other's mouth. Around three in the morning, he finally sighed in relief to be able to hit the bed and sleep out the blurry hours and atrocious sexual sounds from the couple next door.

Luckily enough, Draco didn't get a glimpse of the woman the next midday he woke up, amazingly without a headache. His heart felt lighter than it had on the Eve for definite reasons, though the tightness remained from the compulsion of departing from the little vacation he had been allowed with the people he liked.

The fatigue locked in his limbs from the alcohol was yet to ebb away when he was called for lunch — or breakfast — he didn't know. Though by the contents of it, it looked like breakfast.

"I've got a terrible headache." Blaise informed while chewing on the eggs they were served and groaned with his head in his hands.

"No one brought any Potion for headache?" Pansy sighed, seemingly no different than Blaise.

"I could use some too, off!" Ron huffed.

"We never had dinner last night, remember?" Hermione inquired. It's probably just that with some alcohol. Eat something and we should be fine.

"Yes, that's the only way. We don't have any apothecary near by." Harry shrugged. "Do you all have headaches?"

"Not me," Draco shook his head. Surprisingly, he laughed lightly.

"I'm never drinking again." Hermione shook her head with a sigh. "The hangovers are worst. I prefer any pain over headache, and I'm dead serious."

Ron earned a hard glare when he snickered, and tried to cover up with a kiss to Hermione's cheek which she dodged. "Hey, c'mon."

She shook her head again. "I'm not fine, trust me."

"You've probably got it worst. It's okay." the redhead soothed, provoking a smile from Draco.

"Azalea left around ten in the morning. Said she had some errands." Harry informed the group.

"Yes, I know. I closed the door, numpty." Hermione cut with a huff.

"Okay, let's talk some sense. The cottage cost is two hundred twenty galleons, so it's twenty each, and the bill of the previous night was hundred and forty galleons, nine sickles and sixteen knuts. I would have split the bill but I was too drunk, just like you, so we will just have to devide it equally, which makes approximately eighty three for everyone, which further adds to hundred and three." Blaise explained with a clipped tone.

"Whoopsie-daisy!" Pansy covered her mouth with her hand, like she had done something wrong.

"Yes, I had to pay hundred and fifty galleons all by myself yesternight. At least, Azalea was decent enough to pay for her things." Blaise reprimanded with his eyes planted to his plate.

"I'm so sorry!" Ron gasped with eyes wide but Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm sorry, you had to. I was in my senses, so know that you paid for everyone. I was just not — " Hermione was politely cut off by the man.

"Don't worry about it. It's fine as long as you pay your shares, really." Blaise smiled at her.

"Yes, sure. Thanks a lot, by the way."

As the evening rolled by, Draco's desire to leave for home subsided into nothingness when they started their evening chat over snacks, the occupants feeling fresh after a afternoon nap they sneaked after the late lunch. While they were all sleeping, Draco had stepped out on the backyard to catch a glimpse of the lake they had preferred to live nearby but entirely skipped in the midst of all the celebration. At the door, when he was pushing his feet into the boots, Harry had turned the corner leading to the door to join him. His heart had skipped a beat, but he had successfully covered it up as always.

"We never went that way." Harry observed with a smile.

"Never got the time." Draco replied.

"So, you're going back to Welsh on Monday?"

Regardless of the obvious question, he had simply nodded his head, looking out on the graveled border of the water body and the pair of benches fitted at the end of the path.

"When are you moving to No. 12?" the mild sun reflected a mixture of pink and orange on the winter clouds bordering the horizon, and Draco's mind flashed him back to the stocky winters of Scotland with little mercy of heat.

"I don't know. The Dursleys never asked me to leave. They are still living with Aunt Marge." Harry said, his eyes on Draco stapled with a small smile. "But, I will, someday." he turned away to the lake with a nod when Draco didn't look back.

Draco cracked a smile and turned to Harry with a look. "We can help you with the cleaning. I know, it's a big house."

"That's not it." he laughed, the ribbon on his braid catching the sun rays for a brief second to attract his attention. "Besides, you won't be coming even if I invite you."

"Yeah, sorry, I have — "

"I know," Harry nodded.

"You could change the ribbon for ornaments." Draco pointed at the tuck of his loose braid. "Or, both?"

"No, not both." he laughed with a grimace. "Weird,"

"I wouldn't know." shrugging his shoulder, Draco kicked at the gravels, sending a few rolling down the slop of the bank.

"Wish we had gone swimming here while we could." Harry mused.

"It's not allowed, dummy." with a smack on his thigh, he pointed at the sign of No Swimming erected just a few steps away from the bench.

"Still,"

With the closure of the sunset, they had headed inside rather hastily with the mumbles of the other's floating out on the backyard. From the doorway, the boys could smell the fragrance of tea and cookies tingling their nostrils, and they had jogged in.

"Like, come on!" Pansy insisted loudly. "Those idiots don't know nothing about fashion. How can they even possibly think of questioning the quality of fabric? I swear to Merlin, it was pure Mulberry silk and they wanted the dress for a hundred! How does that even make sense!"

"People just want a good bargain, that's it." Hermione shook her head.

"Yeah, they don't care about quality." Pansy agreed.

"Once, I had this bloke walk into my cafe wearing a neon jacket in the broad daylight, obviously attracting some attention. But then, he picked up a chaos with a loyal customer for "staring too much" and demanding that he had right to wear whatever he wanted." Blaise explained with an annoyed eye roll. "If you are confident enough to wear whatever you like, you need to be thick skinned enough to at the least ignore criticising stares. Now, who's going to tell him that? I was so angry at him, and the lady called the Auror station to report harrasment on her, but the guy had same complaints about her as well. Dear Lord!"

"Then, what happened?" Ron laughed in amusement.

"The Auror never filed any complaints, just adviced not to disturb the other diners. And, I had to bear this offhanded embarrassment, which is worse."

The evening ended around seven when Blaise straightened up to warn himself about his deadline for some orders his mother had received for the bakery in Liverpool and his stepfather, Bernard visiting him for a belated Christmas dinner.

"I would have liked to have a peaceful dinner without a stranger lurking around in the room, but that's not in my luck, I suppose." he had said with a sigh.

When Draco ducked in his room to grab his suitcase, a hand had tapped him on his shoulder while he was half bent into his suitcase.

"Oh, hey." he greeted, registering the prepped up appearance of Harry, ready to leave.

"Are you going to be there at the Burrow on New Year's?" he asked quite suddenly.

"I...don't think so." Draco shook his head uncertainly, his heart doing its funny rhythm in his chest to cease his important movements to pack the last of his belongings in the suitcase.

"Oh," he nodded. "Okay,"

"Listen, I would have, but — "

His words were cut short to incoherent mumbles when another mouth pressed on his rather softly. The startling action deferred his preparation to precisely a quarter of the hour when Harry sighed out of the room without Draco, hair twisted into a bun along with the same golden piece of chiffon.

But before that, with his hands on either side of Draco's face, half a minute had passed while Harry had stood there without moving an inch, not even his lips which were pressed to the other's, eyes screwed shut with intentions of blocking any and every ray of light that could confirm his action to himself. Like he was dying to kiss back, yet hated himself for doing it all the same.