I fidget with my hands again, trying desperately not to let them drift to the back of my neck. It's a bad habit I've had ever since I was little, and the only reason I know to hide it is because my dad told me it makes my chess game very easy to read.

'You're nervous, Ronald,' he said once, his blue eyes sparkling as his bishop advanced. 'Every time you rub your neck, I know I'm on track to checking you. You'll need to control that, my lad, if you don't want to give yourself away to your opponent.'

So I learnt to control the impulse. Mostly while playing chess. It still creeps out every so often, when I'm not paying attention. But today I am paying attention, and the prickle I can feel at the back of my neck is almost unbearable. Surely if I'm quick ...

'Nervous, Weasley?' I snatch ny hand away from the back of my neck and force myself not to glower up at Malfoy. I had asked him to meet me here, after all.

He stands over me, that damn smirk on his lips as always. Knowing we were meeting in Muggle London, he's abandoned his robes for a pair of blue jeans and a tight, black, knitted turtle-neck jumper. His grey eyes are full of mischief, and something about that look makes my stomach tighten slightly. I blush, and stammer 'I, er, no, I ... Th-thanks for coming.' Smooth, Ron. Real smooth.

'Not at all,' he says casually, easing himself into the chair across from me. I'd owled asking him to meet me in the cafe just across the road from the Ministry Phone Box entrance, hoping for a neutral and public space that could be a fair no-mans-land. That hope is quickly squashed when he looks up at our waitress and gives her the most charming smile I've ever seen him give. 'Rita! How's the little one?'

'Massive, Draco.' The plump, kindly lady grins back, clearly familiar and comfortable around him. 'Eating me out of house and home.'

'Rita, if I lived with you, you'd never be able to leave that kitchen. Have you tried this one's pasties?' He directs this last at me, dragging me so suddenly into their inner circle that I falter.

'N-no I ... I can't say I have.' My voice is a lot higher pitched than usual, and I dig my nails into my palm under the table, willing myself to calm down.

'Two, please, Rita. And a pot of tea.' I blink. No-one has ever ordered for me before.

'Won't be long, Love.' Rita bustles off, and something about the apron strings flying behind her reminds me wholly of Mum.

'So.' His voice is so relaxed, it puts me more on edge. How can he be so calm? I'd briefly detailed in my letter that I wanted to accept his offer of help, to understand things a little better, but here he sits, looking for all the world like we're just going to discuss the bloody weather. He senses my tension, and leans forward. 'Are you alright, Weasley? We don't have to do this if - '

'No!' It's a lot louder than I meant it to be, and I shut my eyes so I won't see the heads that whip round to glance at me reproachfully. I take a deep breath, then slowly open my eyes again. He's watching me carefully. 'No, I ... I need to know a few things that I've not been sure how to ... who to ask, and I think I need to know them. To know myself.'

'I see.' His voice is soft, and I think he's going to say more, but then he leans back in his chair again, beaming. 'Here she is! That was fast!'

'Always have one or two on the go for you, just in case.' Rita slides two plates onto the table, each containing the biggest pasties I've ever seen. She juggles a pot of tea, two mugs and a small pitcher of milk, deftly placing them on the tiny table in an organised mess, so that everything is accessible. 'Need anything else?'

'Marry me?' My jaw drops at his words, but Rita just screeches and bats at his shoulder.

'I know I'm not your type, Love, but you keep asking and I might take you up on it one day.' And with that, she's gone again.

'I wouldn't,' he cautions as I reach for the pasty. 'It's literally right out of the oven.'

'I can tell you never grew up with older brothers,' I chuckle as I grab the pasty. It's hot, but manageable. I blow on it as I say, 'You ate when you could, or there'd be nothing left.' I sink my teeth into the flaky crust and flavour explodes in my mouth. I grunt involuntarily and my eyes roll at the savoury gravy, the tastes of the tender vegetables and well seasoned meat vying for position on my tongue. My mum is one Hell of a cook, but even she could learn a thing or two from Rita. My eyes flick to the counter, to where Rita is watching me. I push all of my adoration and appreciation for this woman and her cooking onto my face, and she winks and grins at me before turning away to serve another custormer. I turn back to the table to find Malfoy staring at me. I swallow. 'What?'

'Nothing.' He rallies himself. 'Just never seen such impressive table manners.'

'Do one,' I growl as I take another bite. I've demolished my pasty in minutes, but Malfoy's still sits on his plate. He's cut it in half to let it cool faster. If he tries to eat the bloody thing with his knife and fork, I'm leaving.

'So,' he says again, now looking slightly amused. 'You're fed, and watered.' He indicates my mug, now empty save a few dregs. 'What did you want to ask me about?'

The reason for the meeting returns, and I swallow against the slight roil of my stomach. But, I did invite him here. And he seems to know a lot more about these things than I do. Plus, it's been a week, and he really hasn't told anyone. I'm loathe to trust him, but maybe ...

I refill our mugs from the pot, stalling for time, trying to form the questions in my head into an orderly queue. I can feel his eyes on me as I slowly stir two spoonfuls of sugar into my tea, and finally I can delay no longer. I let out a slow breath and raise my eyes to meet his.

'Last week, in the changing rooms, how did ... what made you ... how did you know?' I feel my ears redden at my inarticulate stumbling but I hold his gaze.

'I've suspected for a long time, if I'm honest. And your reaction to my jokes just confirmed things.'

Panic rips through me. He suspected? For how long? Have I been that obvious? Does everyone else know, too? How can -

'Look at me, Weasley.' His voice is calm, quiet, and I realise I've been staring into my tea as my mind whirls. I raise my eyes again. His are focused on my face, his arms folded on the table as he leans forward on them, his expression one of interest, but also a little ... concern? 'I don't think anyone else has noticed. And I've had ... other circumstances that helped me reach my conclusion.'

'What do you - '

'I talked to Granger. Don't look so shocked, we were Head Boy and Girl for our last year at Hogwarts. It would have been silly for us to walk the Halls once a week for rounds and not talk to each other. She told me about the break-up.' I open my mouth, but he holds up a pale, slender hand, silencing whatever it is I was about to say. 'Don't worry, she didn't go into detail. She just said you weren't compatible, and that was all. But it made me wonder. For a couple who seemed so obviously meant for each other, for that to not work out, it had to be something pretty significant that would get in the way. And you confirmed it last week, with your reaction to my suggestion.'

I blush again at the memory of the innuendo and the images my mind had conjured in response. I push it away, focusing on what he'd said.

'OK, I guess that makes sense,' I mutter, the next question already on my tongue. 'So how did you know about you?'

He smiles and leans back. 'Quite a similar story, actually. Pansy and I tried, when we were still at school, before ... before. We tried to be, ah, intimate. And it just didn't do anything for me. I wondered if it might just be that we were too close, so I tried in our last year of school with Astoria, but ... same thing. And then I kissed a boy, and it felt so different. So ... right.'

His eyes had drifted away as he remembered, but suddenly they snap back to me. He grins, and I realise I've leant forward as he's been talking. I clear my throat and sit back, and he picks up half of his pasty and bites into it. Thank Merlin for that. My eyes get a little stuck on his lips as he chews, and i drag my gaze away, focusing on my tea again.

'Have you, um, dated guys, then?' Out of the edge of my vision I see him stiffen, and he lowers his pasty back to his plate. He swallows, and wipes his hands and mouth with a napkin before he replies.

'Yes. I went on one or two dates, and I started to get closer to someone.' His eyes glaze a little. 'His name is Dan.'

'Oh, are you - '

'No.' His voice is suddenly hard. 'No, Skeeter's article did for that. Too much pressure, he said, being in a public relationship with an ex Death Eater.' I see the pain in his eyes again, and I'm surprised when I feel sympathy for him. I'd thought the attention for being on the right side of the war was bad enough. I hadn't even considered how it would be for those who'd been on the other side. His eyes focus on me again, the pain turning into something else. 'But I don't want a private relationship. If I'm with someone, I want to be able to tell the world, if I feel inclined to.'

'Gods, I couldn't even begin to consider being public about this right now.' His lips quirk up at the corners, and he gives me the first genuine smile I think he's ever shown me.

'You will, Weasley. You'll find someone. Someone you're willing to stand on that edge for. Someone who will make you want to burn the world.' I smile back at him, grateful for his words. Then he adds, 'But take your time with this. Don't let anyone rush you. Tell who you need to tell, or don't. Explore first, if you want to. But ... try to enjoy it. It can be a liberating feeling.'

He puts the uneaten half of his pasty into a napkin and wraps it. I look at my watch and realise I'm due back in the department. I pay the bill, waving Malfoy's money away, and we exit the cafe, blinking in the sudden daylight.

'Well,' he says, turning to me. 'I hope that was helpful, Weasley. And if you have any more questions, you know where I am.'

'Thanks, Malfoy.' The words feel weird on my tongue without the bite of sarcasm that would usually accompany them, but he smiles, and something in his expression makes my heart skip a little. He turns, but I grab his elbow, stopping him. He looks up at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. 'I'm ... I'm sorry. About Dan.'

'Thank you,' he says quietly, and I release his arm. I watch him walk away, towards the phone box, half of his lunch clutched in his hand, and I notice how thin he seems, his shoulders slightly hunched as if under a great weight. And I wonder if he really might not be that Malfoy any more.