Harry considered the piece of paper in his hands.

"Er…"

"Don't you er me, Potter. If you don't want to come, don't come!"

"No, yes, I want to!" Harry heard himself saying.

"Great, then that's that!"

"Great!"

"No need to bring a gift."

Harry pocketed the piece of paper containing Draco's address.

"Er… that's code for ' do bring a gift', right?"

Draco turned to look at Harry from the door frame.

"Look at you, learning proper etiquette!" But then he dropped the mocking tone and added with a smile: "No, it's not. Just bring yourself."

Harry was left alone in his office to contemplate the unknown reasons for which he accepted Draco's invitation to his and Camille's housewarming party.

He made the strategic decision to arrive two hours later than everybody else, mainly to avoid any possible scenario in which he'd be the first one there, so he wasn't surprised to see a fully-fledged party behind Draco's shoulder when he opened the door.

"Fashionably late, of course!"

He moved aside and Harry slipped through the door into the narrow hallway stuffed with the guests' jackets.

"Here you go," he said as he handed Draco a beautifully wrapped package.

Draco started laughing.

"I have to say, your newly acquired social acuity doesn't cease to impress me!"

Harry opened his mouth to respond to Draco's veiled criticism of his manners - which were not as catastrophic as he always made it seem - but then Draco started unwrapping the gift right then and there. It instantly reminded Harry of the spoiled child who always opened the packages his parents sent him in front of the whole school.

"... but thank you, that's very considerate of you," he concluded.

"It's nothing, really," he said, waiting for Draco to finish his fight with the double taped wrapping paper. He felt the urge to just do it magically for him, but he was pretty sure that would not fall between the parameters of what Draco considered polite. He spotted Hermione and Luna behind Draco, and waved at them, scanning the rest of the room for more familiar faces.

"Oh, wow, Harry."

Harry looked down at his own gift, quite embarrassed. He wondered briefly if he'd maybe gone too far in his quest to find a suitable present for someone as fussy as Draco.

"It's not… well, since you're a Potioneer…"

Draco started laughing, examining the antique golden weighing scale up closely.

"Yeah, I think I got it. It's amazing, Harry, really! And I know exactly where to put it. Come, I'll give you a tour of the place as well."

"Oh, OK."

So instead of going straight towards the living room where everybody else was, Draco turned left into another narrow corridor, which led to the rest of the apartment.

"It's really nice," Harry said truthfully, admiring the tall ceilings and the crown molding ornating them. Dark toned floral wallpaper, which Harry would have never associated with Draco, dressed the walls. The apartment looked nothing like his own place. It was old, and charming, and it already felt lived in and homey, despite Draco moving in just a couple of weeks before. Draco showed him the kitchen, where they found Ron mixing cocktails for a bunch of their colleagues.

"C'mon, Malfoy, take it," Ron said while shoving a shot glass into Draco's hands, who was unconvincingly trying to refuse it.

"I'm already tipsy, Ron, leave me alone."

"Well, what's a night without your husband if you don't get drunk and go all crazy?"

Harry took a big gulp of his glass of water at the news that he had escaped, once again, the horrible fate of having to do small talk with Draco's husband, not daring to ask why it was that Camille wasn't present at his own party. Draco chugged down the shot that Ron bewitched to follow him around, then dragged Harry away to continue the tour of the apartment.

"And here's my home office," he announced as they stepped into the last room and Draco turned on the light switch. It was really small, every wall filled with shelves packed full of books and various objects that still managed to look orderly in spite of their randomness. Somehow, somebody had also squeezed in a chimney in the corner of the room, by the window overlooking the courtyard.

"And look, here's the perfect place for your thoughtful gift."

As he said that, Draco placed the scales from Harry on the mantle, next to a vase containing fresh flowers. They did look very nice there, surrounded by Draco's beautiful possessions, glistening in the warm light emanating from the lamp on Draco's desk. Harry was just about to say as much when his attention was drawn by a familiar object resting on the shelves opposite from him.

"Hey! You still have it!"

Without even thinking about it, Harry reached out and took the frame to get a better look at what it contained, to make sure he wasn't mistaken. When he realized Draco wasn't saying anything, he looked up and met Draco's eyes.

"Er, sorry," he said, hastily putting it back, afraid maybe he shouldn't have touched it without Draco's permission.

"Don't be sorry," Draco said quietly.

Harry turned his attention back to the yellow envelope behind the glass, on which the words 'For Draco' were scribbled in black ink. Harry had seen that letter almost every day for the better part of a year, when it lived on the bottom of his own nightstand drawer.

"You never opened it?"

"No."

Harry didn't know what to say to that.

"I…," Draco started, then stopped.

He wasn't looking at Harry anymore, but somewhere behind him. Harry stayed very still.

"I never thanked you for giving this to me, Harry. It meant a lot to me…to have it. When things were hard. So thank you."

Hearing Draco's voice break made Harry's throat feel unusually tight.

"Oh, you know, no need to thank me. It's normal."

Finally meeting his eyes, Draco said:

"No, it's not."

When Harry didn't say anything, he took a step towards Harry.

"It's not. Thank you, really."

Then he leaned in and hugged Harry. It wasn't a particularly tight hug, but it made Harry's heart stop all the same. He gently patted Draco's back, as if he was a delicate piece of china that might break if handled too harshly.

"Enough with these depressing things, let's get back to the party," Draco said, putting an end to their embrace just as suddenly as he'd commenced it, back to his normal voice and to his normal self. Harry followed him silently back into the heart of the party, the smell of Draco's cologne lingering on his own clothes far longer than physically possible after a five second hug.

For the rest of the evening he kept bumping into Draco everywhere he went, as if an invisible rope kept pulling them together, ending up next to him by the piano when Hermione and Zabini got into the argument about the next elections, then in the kitchen, as they cheered on Conrad and Felix playing a match of magical ping pong over the kitchen island, and one more time on the couch when Neville was telling a story about the current drama unfolding between two new Hogwarts teachers. Which Harry barely listened to, much more preoccupied with the way Draco's knee kept touching his or the way he propped up his arm over Harry's side of the couch when he leaned in to reach the snacks on the table.

On Monday morning, Harry found the Minister of Magic waiting for him in his office. When he finally left, three hours later, Harry went straight across the hallway to Draco's office and requested a potion for his headache. Ron barged in just as he finished his sentence.

"What did Cole want?"

"He needs my help."

"Ah. Of course."

"Of course."

"He wants me to defend him in regards to the Muller affair. Publicly."

Draco handed Harry a glass containing a clear potion. Harry took it, his fingers lightly brushing past Draco's.

"I knew it," Ron exclaimed, angry on behalf of Harry. "I knew the bastard was somehow involved in that shitshow. So he knew about it?"

"Yes, apparently. He didn't directly confess to it, but he strongly implied it. And he wants me to go to the press and defend it."

Harry drank the whole potion in one gulp, feeling like his brain was going to split in two.

"When you fought against that stupid project from the beginning. And he knows it."

"Of course he knows it!"

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I don't want to do it. But if I don't, there's a huge chance he'll lose the election, and nobody wants another four years under the leadership of the bloody purists."

"That wouldn't be on you, Harry. Nobody would blame you for that."

"Some would."

The next couple of weeks were spent dealing with the aftermath of Cole's name being directly linked to the Muller affair. The whole Ministry was put under audit, including their department, and the press found new corruption stories to report on every morning, until it just seemed they were making them up. Which they most definitely didn't need to, considering the acting Minister of Magic publicly admitted to having funded the latest wing of St. Mungo's with money coming from the man that had famously conned millions of Muggles out of their life savings, and who was currently serving 10 years in Azkaban. The problem was that Cole was the only party leader with the means and the support to win - with the election coming in less than two months, nobody else could get even half his votes. But could he still beat Raymond?

In the end, Harry didn't support Cole directly, following Hermione's sharp advice, but did his best to campaign against Raymond while there was still time. He'd just given his third interview of the day when he heard Draco and Ron's voices emanating from the conference room. Ever since this whole mess started he hadn't had much time to spend with them. Considering a jolt of electricity went through his entire body every time he saw Draco, Harry was rather thankful to have had such a good excuse to put a stop to their morning talks and afternoon walks and everything else in between. He'd ignored the situation for long enough, until it had gotten out of his control, and he was determined to get that control back.

He's married, Harry had told himself over and over again on the way back home from Draco's party, he's happily married and he was looking at you like that because you showed up at his party with an insanely expensive gift and then reminded him what a good guy you were when you delivered him his dead mother's last letter.

He subsequently spent the rest of the weekend turning over in his head the many instances he felt had led him there, ruminating over every little thing Draco had said to him that might reflect his own feelings, until, feeling like he was going crazy, he called Trey. He'd talked about it with his therapist, the way he used sex to numb out feelings, and how he wasn't really supposed to do that anywhere, but he felt that using sex to forget about wanting to have sex with someone else was fair game at that point. And it seemed to have helped, at least in conjunction with not seeing Draco so much more anymore.

However, hearing their cries of laughter from across the hallway made him less inclined to go ahead with his plan of eating lunch alone in his office. He was tired, he was stressed, he just wanted to unwind for a change and spend time with his best friend.

And his new best friend, he added grumpily, as he made his way to the conference room.

He found them surrounded by mountains on files, probably going through all of the expenses in preparation for the inspection next week. Draco noticed him first, from behind a tower of beige folders.

"Hi, stranger!"

Harry ignored the jitters in his stomach. Thankfully, they both had so many questions about what's been going on that he soon forgot all about his worries, and was able to enjoy a pretty decent lunch in their company.

"Bloody hell, I need to go, I'm going to be late for Mandelley's interrogation."

Mandelley was the head of the Waterloo smuggling operation, whom his team had finally arrested the week prior after a chase along the Scottish Highlands, while he was doing God knows what, trying to save the skin of a corrupt politician he despised. So Harry was pretty salty about it, and had made it clear that he'll be the one conducting all the interrogations.

"Ah, you're going? I thought Conrad was going to do that next week. Did you let Amza know?"

"Yes, of course. Skeeter canceled on me today, so I have a window and told Conrad I'll take care of - "

"Draco, you should go with Harry," Ron exclaimed unexpectedly.

Ron's words had an instantaneous effect on Draco, who turned white on the spot. Harry tried really hard to hide his own horror at the idea.

"You won't have a better opportunity, nobody will bother you if you're with Harry. You don't mind, do you, Harry?"

"No, of course not," he blurted out too fast, in an effort to hide that it did, in fact, bother him very much. He didn't need to ask why Drao wanted to go to Azkaban. Or rather, why he didn't want to.

"No way, I have too many things to do! We need to finish this!"

Ron rolled his chair closer to Draco, put a hand on his shoulder and leaned it very close.

"You've been back for 5 months, mate."

Harry had the distinct impression he was witnessing a private conversation, and flipped through the first file he could grab, embarrassed.

"It's better like this, you won't have time to overthink it."

Draco whispered back something Harry didn't catch and they both turned to look at Harry.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Ron asked Harry again.

"I'm sure."

Draco sighed, massaging his temples.

"I'll go write up a visitation request for you to sign," he conceded to Ron, then stood up very quickly, as if he was scared he'd change his mind if he didn't go that instant.

When Draco left the room, Ron turned to him.

"You don't mind, do you, Harry?"

Harry threw the file he'd been pretending to read in front of him.

"Of course I don't, why do you keep asking me that?"

But Ron just glanced at him and didn't say anything more. Ten minutes later, Harry met Draco in front of the Apparition room, the whiteness of his face so much more apparent in contrast with the black coat he was wearing.

"Ready?" he asked, keen to get going, but remembering Draco's aversion to Apparating.

"I guess. It's not like we can take a train there."

Harry offered a forced smile.

"No."

"We could fly," he said, stalling.

"In the summer, maybe."

Harry reached for Draco's arm, but waited for his nod of approval before Apparating them out of London into the middle of the North Sea. He felt the salty wind on his face before he opened his eyes. He let go of Draco's arm just to reach for it again a second later, when Draco lost his balance.

"Er, thanks," Draco said, leaning on him, eyes closed. "I hate this so much."

No matter how much Draco hated it, Harry hated it a lot more. He let go as soon as he felt Draco stable on his feet.

"Well, isn't this place just absolutely charming?"

Harry let out a chuckle, relieved Draco was at least attempting to maintain his wits, and looked over at the dark tower dominating the entire horizon. He'd gotten used to it, especially in the last couple of years, but he could still appreciate just what kind of a first impression this kind of place could make on someone. Especially on someone like Draco.

"C'mon, let's go. We need to drop by Amza's office first, let her know we've arrived."

They walked towards the entrance to the tower, the silence broken only by the sounds of waves crashing on the cliffs. Harry dared to glance at Draco a couple of times. He looked concentrated, as if revising for an exam.

"Harry?" Draco said all of a sudden, in a voice he hadn't heard in a very long time, stripped of any pretence.

"Yeah?"

"How …er… how does it feel?"

Harry didn't need to ask what he meant.

"I… I don't know. I don't go very … er… often. Uhm… sad, I guess."

Harry felt stupider with every word he uttered. He tried to remember how others had acted with him when they'd joined him on his rare trips to Godric's Hollow, but the only thing that came to mind was that they had held his hand. Which Harry wasn't about to do with Draco, so that didn't help much.

"But also… like nothing. Like it's not really… real…"

They reached the entrance, and Harry took this as a cue to stop trying to answer Draco's unanswerable question. They passed through security and through Amza's office, then Harry pointed Draco to the back door and headed to the interrogation room on the second floor.

While he waited for Mandelley to be brought in, he watched through the dirty window as Draco made his way to the small cemetery at the far corner of the island. He was too far away to make out anything other than his coat blowing in the strong wind, and then he completely disappeared from view.

He flinched when the door opened and Mandelley came in. He tried his best to concentrate on the task at hand, but after an hour spent going in circles he admitted to himself he wasn't getting anywhere and concluded the interrogation.

"Is he back?" he asked the guard posted at the back door.

"No, sir."

It had started raining. Harry stepped out and tightened his collar. The Impervius spell he cast reached Draco before Harry did. Draco turned around. His eyes were red but, to Harry's relief, he wasn't crying anymore.

"Hey! You finished already?" Draco asked, smiling faintly.

"Yes, but we can stay longer if you want."

Coming to a stop next to Draco, he looked down at the unembellished gravestones. He'd seen them once before, at their funeral.

"No, we can go. I'm freezing anyways."

Harry silently cast a drying charm on the way back to the prison, but didn't think Draco noticed, as tears had started dripping down his cheeks again. Harry looked away, desperately wanting for a spell that could solve that particular problem.

Back in the Apparition room, Draco quickly said 'thank you' then stormed out. Harry gave him a couple of seconds as a head start, then headed towards his own office. He had a couple of meetings planned for that afternoon. By the time he was finished, Draco's office was empty. Next morning, he went to check in on him, but his office was empty again. When he didn't show up at their weekly meeting, he gave in and asked Ron if he had some field work to do that day.

"No, he took the rest of the week off. I think he went to France."

Harry swallowed hard.

"Of course he went to France ," he told his therapist, the only person in the world he could voice this particular thought to.

"And that makes you feel…?"

"It makes me feel stupid, because I can't stop thinking about a person that's married and that went to spent time with their husband."

"That's the situation you are in, yes, but how does that make you feel?"

"Like shit."

Emma watched him from behind her glasses.

"Harry, why do you think you can't stop thinking about this married person, as you put it?"

"I don't know. But I know what you think."

"And what is it that you think that I think?"

"I think you think I'm attracted to men I can't have so that I can avoid any sort of intimacy."

Harry had read an entire book on the topic - that she had recommended.

"And do you think that's true?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it probably is."

"Well, that's interesting, that you would say that. Because what I'm hearing from you now is quite the opposite. If I understood correctly, you felt uncomfortable taking him to visit the grave of his parents, yet it upset you that he needed to be consoled by someone else other than you. And isn't that because you wished to console him, after all? Isn't that a form of intimacy as well?"

Harry pondered the question, carefully turning it on all sides.

"I don't know. I just … it's stupid."

Emma smiled at him.

"It's not stupid at all, Harry. I imagine it wasn't easy for you, seeing someone you care about in a situation you know is painful, a situation you've been through as well. You personally dealt with the tragic death of your parents - you are still dealing with it."

Harry nodded, throat suddenly too dry to speak.

"And I imagine it wasn't easy for you, feeling powerless in the face of someone else's pain. But getting to see the pain of another and accepting that you cannot do anything to alleviate it is a big part of any type of relationship, be it romantic or not."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Emma continued.

"And I have the feeling that you have a hard time accepting that. Probably because you have an equally hard time accepting your own pain... So let's work a bit on that, shall we? Let's explore deeper just why that is."

It had been a long time since Harry cried during a therapy session.

Draco was back on Monday morning, as evidenced by him entering Harry's office not even 10 minutes after 9, right as Harry was about to leave for yet another interview.

"I brought you something. To say thank you."

Harry stared down at the box of macaroons, then up at Draco's bloodshot eyes.

"Er… you didn't need to."

"They're very good," he gestured towards the macaroons. "The best in Paris."

Harry grabbed the box and put it on the cabinet by the door.

"How… how are you feeling, Draco?"

Draco's lib trembled as he replied.

"Hmm… not too good… It's all kind of hitting me… now… and …"

Seeing in his eyes that he was about to burst into tears, Harry - without stopping one second to think about it, as thinking was too dangerous at that point - took a step forward and hugged Draco. He accepted it right away, placing his head on Harry's shoulder.

It was nothing like their last hug. Harry could feel Draco's chest shudder, and held him tight, as tight as he could. Draco just let himself be held, his breath choppy, his tears making Harry's neck wet.

"It's so stupid," he said in a small voice after a while. "It happened so many years ago. But I can't stop crying …ever since Tuesday …"

Harry didn't reply, he just continued holding him, stroking him.

"Does that… happen to everybody?"

"Yes," Harry said, throat closed up, "yes, it does."