"What do you mean, you thought it was me?"

Draco is livid. Harry can't blame him, really. But, to be fair, Draco really oughtn't be blaming Harry, either.

"He was Polyjuiced, Draco. He was dressed just like you!"

Draco's mouth tightens. "And I suppose he spoke just like me? And acted just like me? Honestly, Potter. Are you really that thick? Or am I just so unremarkable to you?"

Harry takes a step towards Draco, intending to touch him gently on the arm, but Draco glares at him and makes a show of stepping back.

"Of course you're not. I think – I know – that if I hadn't had so much Firewhiskey, I would have noticed he wasn't you."

"Before you fucked him, you mean?"

And now Harry feels his pulse become erratic. This isn't supposed to happen. They are supposed to be fine. Harry and Draco are fucking fantastic together.

"I–" Harry falters, and Draco's eyes glitter with a sort of feral triumph.

As Harry stares at Draco, feeling more and more hopeless, Draco's face suddenly crumbles.

"You know, this wouldn't have even happened if you hadn't been so careless about us being seen together in public."

Harry frowns, opening his mouth to question Draco's logic, and closes it abruptly when Draco gives a little humourless chuckle.

"God, Potter, you really are that thick. No one knew we had anything going on together until the Prophet snapped that photo last week. Obviously this guy saw an opportunity to fuck the Golden Boy and took it."

"You know," Harry says in a small voice, "I really don't think that's what it was about… He was really–" He cuts himself off, before he can say anything to make things even worse.

"Really what?" Draco's voice is dangerously low. "Come on, Potter. I'll hear it. Now."

"Well," Harry hesitates, trying to find words that won't anger Draco further. "He was very… ah… enthusiastic, I guess? It didn't seem like he was just in it to be able to say he'd fucked the Boy Who Lived."

"Go on."

"He – ah… kept telling me how good it felt, and… um… yeah. He was very affectionate."

"And that didn't make you second guess who you were canoodling with?"

Harry feels his cheeks heat up. "Like I said, I was drunk. And I was just – to be honest, Draco, I was just enjoying how sweet you were."

Draco grits his teeth. "I can be sweet."

Harry feels an inappropriate laugh bubbling up inside him, and covers it with a cough. He chances a step forward, and, encouraged when Draco remains stationary, reaches for Draco's hands and holds them in his, twining their fingers together.

"Draco, I swear, it will never happen again. I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. And from now on, we'll have a secret question, like during the war, if you like."

Draco's mouth twitches. "So, every time you want me to bugger you, we have to stop so you can ask me what my favourite flavour of jam is?"

Harry laughs. "I think it'd need to be a bit harder than that."

Draco shakes his head. "I have a better idea."

Two hours later, Harry and Draco step out of a very exclusive and expensive wizard's jewellers.

"I'm still not sure exactly how these rings are supposed to prevent us from being hoodwinked by Polyjuiced weirdos," Harry admits, leaving aside the fact that they've just bought themselves matching rings and what exactly is Draco getting at, anyway?

Draco smirks. "I've a recipe at home for an anti-Polyjuice solution. If we soak the rings in it, they'll prevent Polyjuice from changing our forms."

Harry raises his eyebrows, impressed. Draco gives a short laugh and pulls him close by his collar, letting their lips meet sweetly.

Harry's hand finds its way to the back of Draco's neck, and his grip tightens when he senses Draco trying to pull away. He wraps his other arm around Draco's lower back, drawing him in until their whole bodies press against each other and Draco is gasping from more than just needing air.

"Don't you think, though, that people will assume we're married if we go around wearing matching rings?"

Draco pulls back, amusement and exasperation warring on his face as he looks fondly at Harry.

"You are idiotically daft sometimes, Potter."

Harry just looks at Draco and waits for an explanation.

Draco takes one of the rings out of the little velvet box, and, with a hand that trembles just a tiny bit, slides it onto Harry's ring finger, watching with satisfaction as it magically resizes to fit perfectly.

"You did say you'd do whatever it takes to make it up to me," Draco says, holding Harry's hand in his and looking at him searchingly. "Or did you mean 'whatever it takes except marry me?"

Harry, heart racing and body flooding with warmth, fights to keep a straight face. "Draco, you should know by now, I never back down from a promise."