'You're sweating.'

'Malfoys don't sweat, Weasley. We perspire.'

'Well, you're perspiring all over my hand.' He throws a glare at me and tries to yank his hand out of mine, but I grip his fingers tighter and use them to pull him against me. He scowls up at me, and I could swear for a second his lower lip sticks out in a pout before he reins himself in.

'Excuse me for being nervous,' he huffs. I cup his jaw and tilt his chin higher, looking down into those silver eyes.

'It'll be fine,' I tell him soothingly, running my thumb lazily along his lower lip. 'Ginny and 'Mione really wanted to see you again, and Harry has sworn to be on his best behaviour.' I pause, and frown down at him. 'Maybe I should have made you swear to that, too.'

His teeth sink into my thumb, hard enough that I yelp and pull away.

'Brat,' I grumble, but at least he's smirking now, his shoulders a little less stiff. But his hand clutches mine tighter as I turn and lead us into the restaurant, where we're due to meet my friends - my family - for dinner.

The room we enter is dark, decorated in lush purple velvets and lit mainly by candles. There's a pleasant buzz of conversation, and in the corner someone's playing tinkling background music on a grand piano. The smells of the food served here are heady in the air, and as I breathe in I hear my stomach rumble over the atmospheric sounds.

'Really?' he sighs from beside me, and pokes a slender finger into my gut, making me squirm. 'You had a snack less than 3 hours ago.'

'What can I say,' I grin, my voice purposefully deep, and his eyes suddenly become wary. 'Seems my appetite is never sated.' I tug him closer, and lean down to breathe in his ear. 'But then, I guess you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Love?'

'Behave yourself,' he hisses, but he doesn't step away. I chuckle darkly, loving the little shudder the noise draws from him.

'Oh, I don't think I will. In fact, I think I'll enjoy making it very hard for you to behave tonight, too.'

'Weasley.' There's warning in his voice, but it's also a little husky, and when I straighten to look down at him again his cheeks are flushed, his pupils a little wider than usual. I wink at him, then immediately turn away to address the maitre d' who appears at the front desk.

'Welcome to Pictsi,' he drawls. 'Do you have a reservation?'

'Table for 6, under Weasley,' I say casually, trying to ignore the feeling of the molten gaze burning into the back of my head. The maitre d' scans his list, then indicates for us to follow him. I step aside and sweep my arm out in a grand gesture, allowing Draco to walk ahead, and though he rolls his eyes I can see the muscle in his cheek twitch as he fights off the smile that threatens to pull at his lips. I fall into step behind him, and make sure that I'm walking just a little too close, knowing that he can feel my presence. He seems a little flustered when we reach our table, but when he glares up at me I just blink back, the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

'Your table, Sir. I'll bring you the wine menu.' The maitre d' bustles off.

'Thanks.' I pull out a chair for Draco, and he flushes deeper as he sinks into it. I sit next to him and lean back, pointedly not looking at him as my knee knocks against his gently under the table. From the corner of my eye, I see him jump slightly at the contact.

'Will you stop,' he growls.

'No.' I turn to him, and he gulps at the look on my face. A look that I know promises that tonight is going to be very, very difficult for him. He only tears his gaze away from mine when someone clears their throat from the other side of the table.

We both look up, and there are Harry, Ginny and Hermione, watching us with slight apprehension. I leap to my feet, grinning, and shake hands with Harry. He's carefully not to look at Draco, who has also risen from his seat and is being hugged by Hermione. I give Harry a small frown that says, You promised, and he rolls his eyes but nods, telling me that he remembers.

I swap Harry for Ginny, giving her a quick squeeze before making my way to Hermione. Over her shoulder, I see Harry stiffly shaking Draco's hand, and a little of the knot in my stomach eases. I lean back from Hermione, then look around us.

'Where's the Bon-Bon?' I ask her. She slaps my arm before moving to take a seat at the table, next to Draco's.

'He's on his way, he sends his apologies for running late.' She sounds blasé, but I hear the slight edge of irritation underneath it and raise an eyebrow at her. She sighs and mutters something that I don't quite catch.

'What?'

'He's late because he's buying her flowers on his way here,' Ginny cuts in, loud enough that the couple at the next table turn towards us. I snort as Hermione flushes and scowls at my sister, and I watch her squirm uncomfortably as I return to my chair.

'I told him it wasn't necessary,' she mutters.

'Let him.' Draco's voice is so soft that it takes me a moment to realise who's spoken, but when I do I turn to him, his gaze is fixed on Hermione. 'Take everything he'll give you. You're absolutely worth it all. Merlin knows that this one - ' he tilts his head towards me ' - probably didn't treat you to much.'

I feel my mouth fall open as I stare at him, and Hermione bursts into laughter. Whether at my expression or his words, I've no idea.

'Thank you, Draco,' she giggles, and shoots me a mischievous look. I shake off the blush that's creeping up my neck as a result of my old lover and my new lover sharing a joke at my expense, and am saved from scrambling to defend myself by the maitre d' returning with the wine list.

Before he can even turn to leave, Draco has glanced at it and ordered two expensive-sounding bottles, one red and one white, for the table. The maitre d's eyebrows raise, clearly impressed by the choice as he bows and scrapes a little to Draco while gathering the wine lists from the table and depositing food menus in their place. From the edge of my vision I can see Harry bristling, and I shoot him a warning glance before I steady my gaze on Draco.

'What?' His voice is cool, calm, and there's more than a hint of the old drawl to it. Hermione and Ginny immediately start up a loud discussion about last-minute wedding preparations, and I lean closer to him.

'I know this is a lot,' I mumur, holding his gaze. 'But was there any need for the power play?'

'I don't know what - '

'Draco.' He holds my stare for a heartbeat longer, then sighs, his nose coming down out of the air, the Malfoy mask slipping away.

'Fine. Sorry. Old habits,' he whispers, and I take his hand under the table and run my thumb over his knuckles.

'Relax,' I say, then lean closer to murmur in his ear, 'or I'll be forced to bend you over my knee and punish you.'

I kiss his cheek as I pull away, and his face is almost scarlet as I turn back to the table. The girls have managed to drown out our interaction, and Harry has been studiously focused on the menu the whole time. I keep hold of Draco's hand as we chat and peruse the menu, waiting for -

'Victor!' Hermione's on her feet, waving towards the door, and more people turn at the sound of her voice this time. I see a few of them gaping as Victor Krum strides towards our table, a large bouquet of flowers clasped in one of his massive paws. With his free hand, he sweeps Hermione to him and holds her tight, and she's flushed and grinning when he lets her go.

Once we've all greeted him, he sits down next to Hermione with her flowers still clutched in his hand. A waitress appears and takes our orders, and when she leaves she takes the flowers to sit in water while we're eating. It's a good thing, too, as the stems have slowly been breaking under the pressure from that huge fist, squeezing them tighter and tighter each time Hermione leans closer to him.

The wine Draco has chosen is delicious, the food even better, and soon the conversation is flowing easily around the table. Victor's eyes hardly leave Hermione as she eats and drinks and giggles, and Harry and Ginny engage in a casual battle of teasing insults that makes me grin. It's so good to see them so happy and comfortable around each other once more.

Draco is quiet beside me, joining in the conversation intermittently, but mostly just listening, observing. From time to time I lay my hand on his thigh under the table, making sure that each time I do, my fingers brush incrementally higher up his leg. He sits straighter every time, and by the time we're eating dessert he's so tightly wound that I'm almost worried he'll snap. It doesn't stop me from pressing my fingers into the crease between his thigh and his hip. He coughs to cover whatever sound had tried to escape him, but I feign ignorance as I finish my cake.

As the waitress clears our dessert plates, we all sit back, sipping the last of the wine and enjoying the feeling of being full from such a good meal.

'Good choice, Malfoy,' Harry says suddenly, toasting him with his mostly empty glass. It's the first time he's directly addressed him for the whole meal, and I try to ignore the way my body instantly shifts into a more defensive position. Harry smirks across the table at us, jerking his chin in my direction. 'Shame I can't say the same about your taste in men.'

'Oi!' I make a rude gesture at him, and Hermione tuts at me, but Harry just grins back.

'Well you know what they say, Potter,' Draco says, draining the last of his wine. 'Good taste is better than bad taste, but bad taste is better than no taste.' Harry chuckles at this, then his attention is drawn away as he gets sucked into the suddenly heated debate that Ginny and Victor are having about the recent changes to the Quidditch World Cup rules of play. I take the opportunity to turn to Draco.

'Did you just imply that you're only with me because it would be better than being alone?' I ask him quietly, under the cover of Ginny's growing ire and Hermione's attempts to smooth the conversation. His smirk falters, and he flicks a suddenly nervous look at me.

'I was joking, Weasley.' His eyes are slightly pleading, and though I know it's true, something about his words has driven a sharp pain through my chest. It opens up old wounds, tears in my heart created by years of feeling like I wasn't good enough, like I wasn't important to anyone. Wounds that have been healing as the love I feel for him grew. But now ... I drag my eyes away from him, and return my attention to the now much calmer table.

'So, what's the plan?' My voice is gruff, but everyone has drunk enough good wine that they don't seem to notice it. I feel Draco shift in his seat beside me. Well, maybe one person notices.

'I want to go to a club!' Hermione's voice is a little shrill, and we all raise our eyebrows slightly at her. She's clearly a little tipsy from the wine, but when she doesn't retract her statement we all laugh and agree, and start to gather our things. Hermione manages to ease her slightly mangled flowers into her magically expanded beaded bag, then allows Victor help her into her coat. He gently takes her elbow to steady her on their way out. Ginny links her arm through Harry's and they follow close behind. I'm about to trail after them when someone catches my wrist. I look back, and meet his worried eyes.

'Ron, I - '

'It's fine.' I shrug him off and fall into step behind Harry and Ginny. Without looking back, I know that he hesitates before he follows me. I can almost hear his mind working things over, and try to ignore the urge to turn back and comfort him. The wine has made me a little sensitive, and I don't want this to turn into something it's not. I just need to work through my own self-pity, then I'll be able to talk to him more clearly about this.

We make our way further into town, walking together in a cluster. The ache in my heart slowly abates as I watch my friends make efforts to include Draco in their chatter, and I can see that he's really trying, too. He frequently shoots me concerned glances, but keeps his distance, seeming to know that I need a little time.

Soon, we're outside a night club, the thumping music that's coming from inside loud enough to gently shake the street we're standing on. Hermione is the first in, and she makes her way to the bar immediately. Victor, love-sick puppy that he is, joins her quickly, and soon they're returning with a tray full of shots of sweet-smelling liquer. We all knock them back, then Hermione and Ginny are pulling us to the dance floor. It's crowded, and loud, but nowhere near as sweaty and seedy as the bars I used to frequent, all those months ago. And it's easy to get lost in the music, in the fun everyone around us is having.

I have no idea how long we've been dancing before I feel those slim fingers wind around my wrist again and tug me away from the group. Nobody seems to notice as I disappear, and I allow the hand to pull me through the throng of people, and down a flight of stairs. I watch his white-blonde hair from behind as he leads me into a bathroom, and as the door swings shut the pounding music is dulled enough that I can hear a slight ringing in my ears. He turns to face me, and I notice that he's a little paler than usual.

'I'm sorry,' he says quietly, but I just watch him, waiting. He steps a little closer and continues, 'I should have thought about how my joke might make you feel, and I'm sorry.'

'I know.' My voice is gentle, and he visibly relaxes. He places a hand on my chest, over my heart, and I grab it and raise it to my mouth, kissing his palm. 'I'm sorry, too. For sulking. I just ... I have a bit of a hard time with feeling unworthy of things.'

His face crumples a little, and he steps into my open arms, nuzzling his face against my chest and holding me tight. I breathe in his smell and sigh, the last of the sting in my heart disappearing. He pulls back to peer up at me, and his eyes are slightly wet as he breathes, 'I love you.'

'Love you, too,' I murmur as I dip my head and press my lips to his. He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue along my lips, asking for entry. I open, and I can still taste the last of the sweetened alcohol in his mouth as our tongues tangle. I wind my hand into his hair and tug gently, moving his head back to give me better access. He presses his body to mine, and I'm surprised to feel a definite bulge rubbing against my thigh.

It flips a switch in me, and suddenly I have him backed against the tiled wall of the bathroom. My large fingers are wrapped around his thin wrists, holding them above his head, and I slide one knee between his thighs. I lean against him and breathe raggedly into his ear, 'Really? You're turned on by kissing in a nightclub toilets?'

'When you kiss me like that, we could be absolutely anywhere and it would ruin me just as thoroughly.'

I growl in approval of his words, and dip my head to run my long nose up the length of his pale throat. He sighs at the feeling, trying to writhe against me, but my hips keep him pinned to the wall as I start to place gentle bites along his sharp jaw. He whimpers lightly, and I can feel his cock stirring against my hip.

'My, my, Pet, so responsive,' I purr as I roll against him. I hear him swallow a groan at the feeling as I apply just enough pressure to relieve his need for friction. I transfer both of his wrists into one hand, and with the other I reach between us and cup the growing bulge in his jeans. I press with the heel of my palm as I stroke him through the denim. 'Is this reaction all from me?'

'Yes, Ron. All for you.' He bites into his lip hard as I stroke faster, his eyes fixing on mine and growing darker by the second.

'And you're sure that this wouldn't feel better if you were with someone of a higher class than me?'

His eyes widen immediately at my reference to his joke. 'Never. Ron, please, I really was just joking. I don't want anybody else.'

'That's right,' I hiss, and nip at his lower lip with my teeth. I soothe the swelling flesh with my tongue, but keep myself fair enough away from him that he can't kiss me. 'You don't want anyone else, because no-one else knows you like I do, Draco. No-one else could give you what you want, what you need. No matter how rich, or famous, or high class they are. They'll never be able to make you feel as good as I can. And so that you don't forget it - ' my voice drops to a low rumble, and he swallows audibly ' - I'm going to make you cum. Right here, in this dirty nightclub bathroom.'

'B-but ... ' He frowns, but his eyes are almost black with lust now, and he's struggling to focus as he tries to grind himself harder into my hand. 'What if someone comes in?'

'You should have thought about that before you started this, shouldn't you?' I grin wickedly, and feel him sag slightly as his knees buckle in response. 'But now that we have started, Pet, I'm afraid that we can't finish until I do.'

I press my palm against his shaft again, and his eyes roll into his head. My fingers travel up to the waistband of his jeans and dip inside, just far enough to feel the blonde hairs that I know trail down from his navel to a nest around his base. He whines as I tease him, eyes closing, and I tighten my grip on his wrists. 'Look at me, Draco.' There's a feral command to my tone, and his gaze snaps immediately back to mine.

'F-fuck.' He breathes the word, an involuntary response to whatever he sees in my eyes.

'That's the idea,' I snarl as my own lust crashes over me in a wave, and faster than he can blink I find the fly of his jeans and flick it open. His jaw drops when he realises what's happened, and a moment letter he yelps as I plunge my freckled fingers into his boxers and wrap them tightly around his hard, hot length. I immediately start to pump him, hard and fast, and he moans loudly as a shiver runs through his body. But he maintains eye contact, and I grin. 'Good boy. Now, someone could come in at any time, so we're going to make this nice and quick. But I want you to enjoy every second. I certainly am, knowing that I'm the only one who can do this to you.'

'Only you,' he pants, then he's babbling, desperate. 'There is no-one else for me. No-one better. Gods, Ron, please!'

'Please what, Pet?' I'm still pumping him, and I can feel his head getting slicker as my thumb brushes over his slit with each pass. The way his back is arching, the flush on his cheeks - he's close, but I still want to hear him say it. 'Come on, use those pretty words, Draco.'

'Please, m-make me cum!'

'Such a good boy,' I croon, then I lean forwards and bite into his neck, hard enough that I know he'll bruise. But it does the trick; he's crying my name, thrusting into my fist, and I can feel him pulsing as he spills in his boxers, over my fingers. I keep pumping until he cries out again, now oversensitive, and only then do I release him. I raise my hand between us and hold his gaze as I slowly lick my fingers clean. He grunts as my action has lust flooding through him again, sending a jolt through his spent cock that I know is a mixture of pleasure and pain.

'So, tell me, Love,' I murmur as I straighten up, finally releasing his wrists. 'What does that say about your taste in men?'

He sticks his tongue out at me, too wrecked from his orgasm to make a witty comeback, and I just laugh as I wait for him to recover enough to step away from the wall he's still leaning on. But he's already reaching for me, for my belt. I catch his fingers, and he looks up, confused.

'But you said that this doesn't finish until - '

'I know what I said,' I tell him, letting him take in my lazy smile. 'But that doesn't mean I'm going to make it easy for you.'

'What do you - '

'You're going to have to earn it.'

He just gawps at me, and I laugh again as I wind my fingers through his and tug him upright. He seems able to stand without support now, so I keep pulling, and soon we're out of the toilets, back up those dark stairs, and onto the dance-floor again. I don't look back once during the entire journey, but when I do now, I can see him watching me carefully, his eyes calculating, wondering what game I'm playing. And in the press of the crowd, I pull him against me, and lean down to his ear so he can hear me speak.

'Dance for me.' I pull away again, and he's just staring at me, his disbelief evident on his face. He waits to see if I'm joking, but I keep my face straight, crossing my arms and raising one eyebrow. Waiting.

When he realises I'm serious, he blushes and scowls, and I can see him weighing up whether he will obey me or not. And I don't know if it's the alcohol, or what we've been through tonight, or the remnants of his lust still coursing through him, but he suddenly gets that determined glint in his eyes, his chin raising, and my heart staggers. He looks so fucking sexy when he's being strong, being decisive.

His eyes fix on mine once more, and he begins to move. He rolls his hips in time with the music, and runs his hands slowly up his body, up, up, into his hair, which he pushes back then lets it fall into his face again. He prowls towards me, and I find I'm mesmerised by his graceful movements, so at odds with the dance music blaring around us.

Then he's pressing against me, and I can feel him undulating his hips in time with the beat as he snakes his arms around my neck. I blush when he tilts his hips and I can feel every inch of him against me. He turns away from me suddenly, but somehow manages to keep contact with me the entire time. I fumble for his waist, and this seems to spur him on. Each of his movements is considered, perfectly in time to the beat, and while it's incredibly sexy there's also this poise, this fliudity to his movements, that makes my growing lust blend with a sense of wonder.

It hits me like a tonne of bricks. Somewhere in amongst all of the pure-blood etiquette training, Draco was taught how to dance. And apparently, he is very fucking good at it.

The song ends, and he steps away from me, whirling around with a smirk on his face. He's proud of his performance, but all I can do is gape at him. It takes us both a moment to realise that there's a stillness around us, and we look about at the same time.

Everyone who was even remotely close to us just witnessed what Draco did. And they all have the same gob-smacked expression on their faces that I'm sure was reflected on my own moments ago. In amongst the faces, I spot Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Victor, all looking equally dumb-struck. Draco sees them too, and he turns red immediately and drops his eyes to the floor.

But I'm overwhelmed with a sudden, burning sense of pride. I'm so proud of him, proud of his abilities and talents. Proud that he's mine. And I want everyone to know it.

So I reach out and take his face between my hands, tilting it up so that I can kiss him soundly. And I feel him smile against my lips when the crowd around us instantly erupts into raucous cheers and applause.