Ever since that morning, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something had irreversibly shifted in him. It was as if he couldn't stay apart from Draco anymore, and had completely abandoned his resolve to do anything about it. He searched for his presence indiscriminately, searched for his eyes with an insatiable hunger, searched to touch him in any way he could - by shaking his hand just a second too long, by getting too close in the lift, by sitting next to him in meetings. His mere presence was electrifying, and Harry just couldn't get enough of it. He would have spent his entire day watching him meticulously preparing ingredients, sleeves drawn up, frowning in concentration. Or patiently teaching Ana how to cut a certain variety of dandelion root so that its extracts could better be exploited for this or that potion. Or just sitting at his desk, furiously scribbling away at the hundreds of reports he wrote for every single action he undertook. And when Draco was upset - which was a pretty frequent occurrence, either because he got too easily frustrated when he couldn't figure out a missing ingredient right away, either because he took every single cold shoulder from people like Ulmer and Cole as a personal affront - Harry enjoyed nothing more than seeing his face light up because of a joke or a comment he'd made, seeing him let out a smile despite himself or burst into laughter.

And Draco - well, Harry had no idea what Draco really thought or felt, but he often seemed to be just as aware as Harry of where in a room the other one was, just as keen to find any excuse to touch him, even going as far as sometimes grabbing Harry by both shoulders to move him out of the way, even though walking by would have been simpler. Naturally, Harry was in the way a lot. But just as often, it seemed like it was all in Harry's head, the wedding ring on Draco's finger a daily reminder of this irrefutable fact.

They'd also started walking home together again - Draco's new flat was a couple streets down from Harry's. Sometimes they'd eat dinner together as well, but as soon as they entered their respective apartments a sort of chill would come into play between them. They'd stop looking too intensely at one another or touching by mistake, as if that particular game was too dangerous to play there, and would retort to speaking about Harry's latest case or Draco's newest brew, the long dinner table separating them.

Harry avoided mentioning any of this to Emma, as he didn't want to admit just how little he was doing to put a stop to it. Instead, he occasionally slept with Trey as a way of coping with the uncertainty of it all. He caught himself daydreaming about Draco bumping into them and becoming jealous, only to be constantly faced with the opposite reality of having to hear about Camille all the time. Or even worse, having to see him. Which had happened maybe a total of five times so far, his feelings towards him growing more and more complex each time. He was, by all accounts, a very kind person, if maybe a little bit boring, always going on about restaurants and food and other things that didn't really interest Harry, but which seemed to interest Draco a lot. So the more the situation progressed, the guiltier he felt towards him. At the same time, he couldn't help himself from hating him as well: he hated the way he always looked spectacularly fashionable, with not a hair out of place, the way he switched from a slow, uneven English to an incredibly fast French that only Draco and Hermione understood, or the way he smiled self importantly when someone asked him about his practice. He also hated the way he laid his head on Draco's shoulder, or held his hand under the table, or dragged him home at the end of the evening, speaking French into his year.

The few times he'd been forced by external circumstances to be around them, he'd tried his best to ignore them, but that was easier said than done. He still cringed when he remembered Hermione's promotion celebration. They were at the pub around the corner from the Ministry, seated at the long table in the back of the pub. Camille just announced he was getting a new round for everybody, and kissed Draco absentmindedly on the cheek before standing up and heading to the bar. Harry hadn't meant to stare. But he did, and Draco met his eyes just as Camille kissed him. Harry pretended to be very interested in what the person next to him had to say for the rest of the night, praying Draco wouldn't read too much into it, praying his face hadn't betrayed the intensity of his feelings in that moment.

All in all, the whole situation was intoxicating and Harry had lost all conscious control over his actions, to the point that, when Draco invited him to spend an entire weekend with him, Ron and Hermione, he didn't immediately say no. They were at Draco's, and Harry was just leaving.

"I wanted to invite you last time we went to June's, but you were busy helping Cole out."

Harry remembered how sour he'd been when he heard the four of them spent a weekend on the coast while he was stuck in an office with Cole for the whole two days, going over campaign strategies.

"So?"

"Er… who's June?"

"June is the muggle woman that helped me get proper papers so I could apply for housing and get a job."

"Oh!"

Harry fumbled with his scarf, wondering if should have already known that. But Draco didn't seem phased by his ignorance, casually leaning on the frame of his front door.

"She's retired now, and she enjoys company. Ron and Hermione loved her. And I'm sure you could use a break for once."

Harry wanted to ask if Camille was coming, but didn't know how to formulate it without sounding suspiciously determined to say no if the answer was affirmative. To his relief, Draco volunteered the information without Harry having to say anything.

"Camille's not coming, he can't get away for the weekend. So it will be just the four of us."

So Harry ended up agreeing to a whole weekend in the company of the very married man he was just absolutely crazy about and his observant best friends, who were already too suspicious for comfort. What's more, since Draco never broke the Statue of Secrecy, it was bound to be a magic-less weekend as well. Harry hadn't had one of those since… well, since the Dursleys. He was just starting to doubt his decision for the millionth time, standing on his front steps with his old backpack stuffed full of clothes, when a black car pulled out in front of him and the door opened to reveal Draco leaning over the passenger seat.

"Get in, what are you doing?"

He must have been staring.

"I thought Hermione was driving," Harry said, getting on the passenger seat awkwardly.

"Well, what do you know, yet another instance you were wrong."

Harry threw his backpack on the backseat and fastened his seatbelt, glancing at Draco as he nonchalantly checked the rearview mirror before backing up.

"When did you … get your license?"

"If you're worried about my driving skills, I can drop you off at the bus stop," he said matter-of-factly, turning left at the end of Harry's street and joining the traffic on the main boulevard just as the lamp posts switched on.

"Stop being paranoid, I'm just impressed!"

"Impressed? Just how low is your opinion of me that this impresses you?"

"It's just that not that many wizards know how to drive!"

Draco briefly took his eyes off the road to look mockingly at Harry.

"How do you think I get around, Harry?"

"That's -"

"Do you think I fetch a wizard every time I need to go anywhere? Will you Apparate me to the doctor, please, sir?"

"OK, Draco."

"You do know I can't perform magic, do you?"

"I got it, you can stop."

"Just confirm to me that you do know that," Draco snickered.

"You're insufferable," Harry snickered in return.

"Yet, here you are, suffering me."

"I know, it speaks of my greatness."

Draco burst into laughter.

"That, it does. Just call the Weasleys, will you?"

It took about an hour to get out of the greater London area. Draco seemed to know his way about, but Hermione helped him navigate some portions of it, with Ron doing more harm than good with his suggestions. Once they were on the highway and the landscape became a blur of distant lights, the excitement of finding themselves in such a novel situation finally settling into a comfortable silence, Harry couldn't find anything better to do than to steal glances in Draco's direction.

"What?" Draco demanded, looking at him when he could afford to stop looking at the road.

"Nothing!"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's just funny, seeing you drive!"

"You find the stupidest things funny, I swear."

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do," he said, as if truly concerned by Harry's mental state.

"Fine, I'll stop."

Smiling maliciously at the rearview mirror, he said: "Don't, I like it."

Harry shook his head, smiling under his breath.

"Tone it down, you two," Ron muttered from the back. "I'm not listening to an entire weekend of this."

It had become a running joke at the office that they were flirting. Harry found it much more acceptable to play along, rather than flat out admit he was actually, constantly, desperately flirting.

"Why don't you leave me and Harry be, and take care of your wife instead, Ron, huh?" Draco retorted, still looking at Ron through the rearview mirror. "I thought we weren't bringing work with us."

"Very nice, Draco," Hermione said, popping her head from behind the file she was reading.

"Give that to me, wife!" Ron said, snatching Hermione's file out of her hands.

"Ron!"

Harry and Draco burst into laughter at the same time.

There was something about the ease with which Draco put on this persona, of a regular guy just driving away with his friends on a Friday evening, that made Harry so irrationally envious. He made it look so effortless, like it cost him nothing. And maybe it didn't.

Draco met his eyes again, so Harry turned to look at the road ahead, wondering, yet one more time, how much of this whole thing was just a joke to Draco. He flinched when he felt Draco's hand on his.

"Stop biting your nails, it's disgusting."

Harry let him take his hand away from his mouth, then watched as he put his hand back on the wheel, mouthing the words to the song that was playing on the radio. This weekend was going to be pure torture.

It was almost ten by the time they finally arrived. June was waiting for them on the front steps of a charming cottage. She hugged Draco like a mother who hadn't seen her son in too long.

"Aren't you just the most handsome man?" she inquired, keeping Draco at arm's length so she could better look at him.

She greeted Ron and Hermione with the same enthusiasm, then finally shook Harry's hand.

"So nice to finally meet you, Harry, I've heard so many things about you!"

"Er, me too!"

Draco beamed at him from behind the open trunk door.

"Come on, you must be starving!"

Over dinner, Harry found that he really liked June. She was sweet, but had a commanding way about her, especially when she talked about her job and the associations she used to run.

They lingered around the table for a long time, making plans for the next few days. Apparently, there were many beautiful trails they could hike on, and Draco and Hermione spent an interminable time going over the brochures.

"What do you think?" she eventually turned towards him and Ron.

"Whatever you want," Ron conceded instantaneously, sipping from his glass of wine and flipping through a muggle magazine for teenagers.

"Yes, whatever you want," Harry echoed Ron.

Draco rolled his eyes and pushed one of the brochures on top of the ones spread across the table.

"They don't care! I'm telling you, the cliffs are the best!"

"OK, fine!"

So the five of them woke up really early next morning and set off for the cliffs, him and June leading the way, closely followed by Hermione, and Harry and Ron tailing after them. It was a very cold day, but the effort kept them warm. After about two hours of climbing, they finally reached the cliffs. Harry stared down at the waves crashing into the sides of the white rock. There was something hypnotic in their repetitive movement. Harry could have stared at them for hours.

On the way down, Draco kept stopping to pick up different kinds of fungi and herbs. Since Harry was at the back of their little group, Draco took it as an invitation to explain to him what he was planning to do with each and every one of them.

"Hopefully, this will give the mixture the edge it needs. You know, for when you need it to work quickly. But I don't know if it will interact well with the jobberknoll feathers. We'll have to wait and see."

"That would be nice, even though Veritaserum is already pretty quick."

"Well, if it's already pretty quick, I guess I won't even bother!" he muttered, but pocketed the mushrooms he'd just picked up all the same.

"That's not what I meant! I'm sure it will turn out amazing!"

Draco regarded him suspiciously.

"Are you alright? Do you want something?"

Harry laughed, following Hermione's red hat to know where to turn next.

"I'm just trying to show you I appreciate your skills! You always act as if I'm suspicious of your potions."

"Well, yeah, because most people are."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Harry," Draco said, suddenly in a very different tone than the teasing one he'd employed just a second before.

They walked in silence for a while, until Draco spotted another mushroom.

"You know, this might also work really well for the anti-hangover cure. I think I might also get it to work quicker."

"Oh, wow, you could definitely become rich if you did that."

"Hmm… yes."

Seemingly lost in thoughts, Draco added the new plants to his zip lock bag.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you don't drink anymore?"

"Uhm…"

"Did you have a drinking problem?"

"Yeah, I guess… yeah, you could say that."

"I remember… I remember you drank quite a bit."

Harry didn't say anything, unsure where Draco was going with this.

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you drink so much?"

"Er… I don't know, why do people drink?"

"Draco, come see this!"

He sighed in relief, watching Draco hurry up to catch up with Hermione.

Harry made the mistake of laying down on the bed after the copious lunch June prepared for them. By the time he woke up it was always dark outside the frosted windows. Usually, his weekends were spent at the office, or out doing reckon work, so it had been a while since he'd last taken a midday nap. Bewildered, he got out of his room, wondering if everybody had left on another walk. The house was unusually silent. To his surprise, he found Draco alone downstairs, sitting cross legged on the floor next to a box full of various objects.

"Hey," he said, his voice still hoarse.

"Ah, you finally woke up!"

"Where's everybody?"

"June's sleeping and Ron and Hermione are in the village."

"Ah. What's that?"

"June found a box of old things, and look what was inside!"

Harry sat down next to Draco, leaning on the bottom of the couch, not yet fully awake. He took the photo that Draco handed him and studied it: a group of five men, all looking very disheveled, all seated on the same bed, playing cards. Many more identical beds were visible behind them. He almost gasped when he recognised Draco amongst the men. He looked skinnier than Harry's ever seen him, his long hair and beard only making the gaunt features stand out even more.

"Oh my god!"

Draco laughed.

"I know, I looked awful!"

"You had a beard!"

"Yes, I know! Just awful! And look, this guy," Draco pointed to the man to his right, "that's David. We drove here in his car!"

Draco had mentioned something along the lines on the way there. However, that didn't diminish Harry's shock.

"You still talk to him?"

"If I still talk to him? He's one of my closest friends! He's an investment manager in London."

He stared at David's face, trying his best to imagine him as an investment manager, whatever that meant, but failing miserably. He had really long hair, much longer than Draco's shoulder length, and every inch of skin that wasn't covered by layers of shabby clothes was covered by tattoos.

"I can't wait to show him this picture, he looks absolutely ridiculous!"

"Why…?"

"Why was he at the shelter? He comes from a rich family but had fallen out with them because he didn't want to become a doctor like his father. Bref, we had some things in common, so we became friends."

Harry had never really believed Draco had been homeless until now, he came to realize staring at the incontestable proof in front of him. He'd always thought it was just an exaggeration from the papers. He pointed to the only person who wasn't smiling in the picture.

"And this guy?"

Draco scooted over closer.

"This guy's in prison. His name is Scott. He wasn't a bad guy, but he was addicted to heroin, so he stole a lot. I've been meaning to visit… but I never did. Well, anyway…"

Draco leaned in and pointed to the man next to Scott.

"The last time I heard of this one, he had a family in Scotland. And…this is Matt. Matt died of an overdose a couple of months after this photo was taken."

Harry looked closer at the man Draco had pointed to last. He looked very young. They all looked so young, like children in boarding school. Except that wasn't a dormitory.

"That's… awful."

"Yes. But it happened so often, you kind of got used to it…"

Draco's voice trailed off. He shuffled through the pile of pictures in his hand. After a while, he handed Harry another picture. He was alone in this one, and based on the state of his hair and general state, it seemed like some time had passed.

"This is when I got the acceptance letter from the university. I was too scared to open it alone, so I called June," he chuckled.

The picture just showed him smiling at the camera, holding a letter with both hands.

"Why were you so scared? You'd always been brilliant at school."

Draco laughed.

"Compared to you, maybe, but you have no idea how competitive muggle universities are. I only got in the second time around."

"You do look very happy," Harry offered, deciding to ignore the jab at his intellectual skills.

"Haha, yeah. It was probably the happiest day of my life, as ridiculous as that sounds."

Harry smiled.

"It doesn't sound ridiculous at all. Mine was getting the letter from Hogwarts."

"Really?"

Harry nodded, amused by Draco's shock - it was usually the other way around.

"Yes."

Draco leaned his head on his knee, considering Harry.

"How come?"

"Well, you know - I didn't know I was a wizard until I received it."

"What?! So you read it in a letter? And you believed it?"

"No! Hagrid came to tell me!"

Draco straightened up.

"Oh, my god! The first time I saw you! With Hagrid, on Diagon Alley!"

"Yes, exactly! He'd just told me the night before!"

Harry laughed, remembering their meeting on Diagon Alley. It felt like they had lived a thousand lives since then.

"And just your luck, to bump into me!" Draco exclaimed. "But how come Dumbledore didn't tell you sooner?"

But Harry didn't want to get into all that. He noticed a picture in the pile Draco had abandoned between them and grabbed it. It was Draco in his old apartment, seated at the desk. Harry felt he could have taken that photo himself, that's how familiar that particular sight was to him. They both admired it in silence, their bodies so close to each other their foreheads were almost touching.

"That place was so bloody small," Draco finally said.

Harry could feel his heart beating faster, for some reason.

"I liked it, even if it was small."

"Did you?" Draco asked ironically, looking straight at him.

"I did," Harry repeated, meeting his eyes.

Draco let out a pained chuckle. The sound of the front door startled both of them before Harry had a chance to inquire as to why he had never realized just how blue Draco's eyes were.

Hermione and Draco prepared a French recipe that evening. At dinner, he found that every time he glanced in Draco's direction, Draco's gaze was already on him. It was really hard to finish his plate, despite how delicious it was.

After that agonising exercise, him and Ron volunteered to do the dishes. From his post at the kitchen sink, he could just make out Draco spread on the living room couch listening to Hermione and June, his features emphasised by the light of the fireplace.

"Harry!"

"What?"

"I was talking to you!"

"Ah, sorry, what were you saying?"

"Never mind. But don't you think this is getting a bit out of control?"

"What is?"

"You and Draco, pretending to be flirting."

"Ah! Yeah, no, I don't know."

"Or are you not?"

"Not what?"

"Pretending?"

"Of cour-!"

"Because… you used to shag, right? So there must be some truth there, right?"

"What's gotten into you tonight?" Harry demanded, partly amused by Ron's awkwardness, partly in a state of panic.

"Nothing, it's just… you seem very into each other, is all."

"Well, we're not. He's in a relationship."

"Yeah, somebody should remind him of that! I did wonder why he chose the one weekend Camille had to work to organize this trip…"

"Really?"

"Oh my god, look how happy that makes you! This is insane, what's wrong with you two?"

Harry burst into laughter, trying very hard to keep it all together.

"It doesn't make me happy! I swear!"

"Bloody hell, it does! It does!"

"No, it doesn't! Piss off!"

Harry splashed some water on Ron's face, in a feeble attempt to make him go away and put an end to this interminable conversation.

"I will choose to believe you, just because I don't want to believe the opposite!"

"There you go!"

After what seemed a very long time going at the dishes, they joined everybody else in the living room and spent a very pleasant evening watching muggle TV. At first, he refrained from sitting next to Draco, Ron's words still ringing in his ears. But in the end it didn't matter, because they somehow ended up next to each other anyway, Harry's ruminations overshadowed by the intensity of knowing his hand just out of reach of Draco's.

They spent Sunday hiking, eating and sitting by the fire. Between June's stories of how she used to drag Draco out of the public library to force him to eat when he was preparing his A levels and Hermione and Draco's quarrels over the history of the region they were in, Harry gained a new sort of appreciation for Draco and his muggle knowledge. He'd been thinking about their conversation about the letters, and how Draco had, much like Harry did as a child learning he had magical powers, entered a new world. He must have had to learn so many rules and norms he had no idea about. Maybe this is what made him seem like a completely different person than who he was before; just the way he held himself, more like a muggle than a wizard. He was clearing the table after dinner pondering all of this when he almost dropped the plates he was carrying by bumping into Draco.

"Watch out!" he cried, catching the plates.

"Sorry!"

"Always clumsy, no matter what you do, hein ?" Draco said, taking everything from Harry's hands. "Hurry up, we have to get going!"

He followed Draco into the kitchen.

"You really don't know how to wash dishes, do you?" Draco inquired, inspecting the plate Harry was washing.

"I don't need to! I use a spell for that!"

"What a pathetic excuse!" Draco snickered, snatching the plate away.

"Did you ever wash one dish before you lost your magic? Even one?"

"No, of course not!" Draco laughed, "but I was a spoiled brat! So you can't compare yourself to me!"

Harry laughed. Draco laughed as well, standing up on his toes to reach the last cabinet and place some dry dishes to make more space on the drying rack. He glanced at Harry just as Harry glanced at him, still smiling.

"You have to stop that, Harry. Really."

"Stop what?" Harry laughed.

"You have to stop looking at me like that," Draco said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

Harry felt his heart skipping a beat.

"I… I can't," was all he could utter before Hermione came in the kitchen, carrying her and Ron's suitcases.

It started pouring as soon as they reached the highway leading back to London. Ron and Hermione fell asleep under the rhythmic sound of rain hitting the body of the car, Ron's head propped on her shoulder. Draco drove fast, seemingly unbothered by the lack of visibility. His eyes were glued to the road, and he had the same concentrated look on his face that he had when he was working. They didn't speak the whole way there.

Two minutes after having dropped off Ron and Hermione in front of their building, Draco took a turn on Harry's street.

"Well, here you are," Draco announced, bringing the car to a halt.

"Yes," Harry replied, looking up at his own building, his hand frozen on the handle of the car. He turned and found Draco looking at him, a pained expression on his face.

"I…" was all he had the time to say before Draco leaned in and pressed his lips against his. Harry answered him slowly, yet desperately, reaching around him with both his hands and bringing him closer. He let out a moan when he felt Draco's hand on his hair.

But that seemed to awaken Draco from the trance he'd entered, because he suddenly backed away, the same pained expression on his face. They looked at each other for one more, interminable second, then Draco said the words Harry wanted to hear the least in that instant:

"Goodnight, Harry."

Feeling like a teenager having had his first kiss, he walked up the stairs to his apartment in a daze, the memory of Draco's lips imprinted on his brain like a tumor. He growled in frustration as he struggled to take off his hiking boots, then collapsed on the couch and buried his face in a pillow, still feeling as if he'd been ripped away from paradise and thrown back into the fires of hell.