***

After their brief stopover at Gringott's bank, where Harry had removed a small parcel that, without answering any questions from Malfoy, he shrunk to the size of a pack of cards and put into his pocket, he allowed Malfoy to apparate him to Goyle House. They appeared outside the door. "Damn," Draco said. "I used to be allowed through the wards, but they've changed them on me."

Harry knocked on the door loudly. "Aurors," He said. "Please, we need to speak to you,"

After interminable moments, a shaky house-elf opened the door.

"Please, is Gregory Goyle home?" Harry asked.

The elf shook his head, mutely.

"Can you tell me we might find him?"

The elf shook his head again. "Twitsy doesn't know, sirs."

"What about Godfried Goyle? Can we see him?"

"Master Godfried is at work, sirs,"

"And where is work?"

"His offices are on Diagon Alley, Sirs."

Harry looked at Draco. "Should we try that, then?"

But at Goyle's office there was nothing but a confused secretary, who blinked at them several times before remarking that her employer had not come in at all that day, an event which was most strange.

They held a hurried conference in the hallway.

"Do you think she's lying?"

"I'm not sure. Why would Goyle lie about not being at work if he was? He must be somewhere else."

Harry frowned. "Where else might Gregory be?"

Draco frowned. "I'm not sure. The last time I spoke to him, he was upset again about Astoria."

"Astoria?" Harry said, stupidly.

"She wrote him a letter, or something, asking him to meet. I told him to ignore it – she's a child, you know, who likes to play games, and he's not bright enough to…"

"Let's go see her, then."

Draco nodded in agreement, and took Harry's sleeve again. Harry ignored the slight brush of energy that went through him when Malfoy's hand brushed his wrist.

Astoria received them very readily, leading them into the sitting room of the Greengrass Manor very gracefully and clapping lightly, to ask a house elf to bring tea. For a moment Harry hoped she would be helpful, but he soon saw that she was still angry with Malfoy.

"I'm sure I haven't the slightest idea where Gregory is," she said, haughtily. "And, I must add, I think it's quite rude of you, Draco, to try to come and ask me about that. I'm still waiting for your apology for the other night," She added, pointedly.

Malfoy appeared to grit his teeth very slightly. "I'm sorry," he said, charmingly. "I should have made things clear to you before, rather than allowing our parents to make plans I never had any intention of…"

"Why not!" She interrupted hoarsely. Quickly she returned her voice to a dulcet tone. "What's wrong with marrying me anyway?"

"It's just… can't we keep this for another time, Astoria? For now it's very important that I know what happened between you and Greg."

"No!" She said, and this time a small glass vase shattered, causing Harry and the house elf to jump. "No, it can't wait, Malfoy! You'll marry me, and that's final!"

"I won't," Malfoy said, gently. "I really am truly sorry, Astoria. I never realized you even cared for me seriously, or I would have explained things better."

"But what's wrong with me…?" She cried out. Harry found himself feeling badly for her. She looked so miserable, huddled in the corner of the sofa like a small animal, ready to lash out.

Malfoy looked serious. "I'm only going to say this once, Astoria, and if I hear stories I will know where they came from, do you understand?"

She nodded rapidly.

"I have no intention of marrying any woman. Ever." He cocked his head a bit. "If I did, dear, you would have been the one I choose."

She looked mystified. "Ever…?" She echoed. "You wouldn't have chosen Pansy Parkinson?"

Draco almost smiled. "No, not Pansy. No woman at all. Now do you understand?" He paused. "Now can you tell us about Greg?"

Astoria seemed to collect herself. She wiped her eyes and glanced haughtily at Harry, as if she had just remembered that he was in the room and was daring him to comment on what he had seen.

"Well," She said, finally. "He did come by here yesterday. He was very upset. He said…" her voice dropped to a melodramatic whisper, "That he loved me, and would I ever forgive him, and he said a lot of other things too. I'm afraid," She looked a bit guilty, "that I might have laughed at him a little. I told him I didn't care for him, and - oh, Draco, I'm sorry! But I just don't, you know that, I know he's your friend and all but Greg is awful!"

"What happened after that?" Harry prodded slowly.

"He left, that's all," She said, simply. "I don't know, I haven't seen him since." She thought for a moment. "One thing that was odd was that he kept talking about my letters. He said he kept all of them. I never wrote more than an invitation to Goyle, so I don't know why he was so hung up on those…"

"Yes, that is strange," Draco nodded. "He said something to me about a letter too…"

He looked sharply at Harry, and then back at Astoria. He stood, as did she, and he fondly kissed her on the cheek.

"We've got to go," he said. "Astoria, please tell me immediately if you hear anything from Greg. It's very important."

She nodded dumbly. Harry nodded to her, awkwardly, and they left.

Just as they were walking down the steps outside the house, though, she emerged, calling to them.

"Draco!" She said. "I just realized. When you said before, you wouldn't marry any woman?" She looked white with surprise. "Does that mean …?"

Malfoy merely nodded curtly in reply, and then apparated away, too quickly for her to say anything more. Harry looked at the place where Draco had just been, and then up at Astoria, who was still staring in surprise. Their eyes met for a surprised instant, and then Harry apparated too.

As he appeared in the office, Malfoy was already pacing and cursing.

"Merlin's Bloody Balls!"

Harry didn't know what to do for a moment, so he stood by dumbly.

Malfoy turned on him.

"Do you realize what this means, Potter! Do you?" He looked furious.

"Er… maybe she won't say anything?" Harry suggested weakly.

"Ha!" Malfoy snapped bitterly. "That girl's never kept her mouth shut ONCE in her whole life. Plus, she was a Slytherin. She's loves gossip too much to be a successful blackmailer… " He ran his hand through his hair. "I can't believe it. I'm finished. By this time tomorrow, I'm… I'm…"

Harry put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder, awkwardly reassuring. "It's all right. You did it for Greg, so…"

Malfoy looked at him with miserable eyes. He sat down in his ridiculous armchair and put his hand over his eyes. He sat like that, without moving, for more than twenty minutes. Harry began to feel increasingly nervous.

"It'll be alright," he said, awkwardly.

"No," Malfoy bit out. "It won't be alright."

"It will. We'll find some way to…"

"To what, Potter?" Malfoy got up, ran his hands through his hair until it was smooth again, and then sighed. "Come on. Let's go back to Goyle House and see if we can find anything about those letters."

The same house elf greeted them again. He looked extremely surprised and displeased when Malfoy demanded access to Gregory's quarters, but apparently the Young Master had left previous instructions that Malfoy was allowed in even when Goyle wasn't there. The elf drew the line at Harry, however, who was forced to wait in the foyer.

Twenty agonizing minutes later, Malfoy came quickly down the stairs, a sheath of messy parchment clenched in his hand.

"I think this is it!" He announced, excitedly.

He and Harry bent over the pages. Each note was short, written in an elegant female hand. They were each warm, and flirtatious, and the one nearest to the top – the newest, Harry inferred, mentioned a potential elopement.

My Dearest Gregory,

I'm sorry I was so beastly and cruel to you the other day. The truth is, I am afraid to admit how I feel in public – were my father to find out, I'm certain he would find some way to keep us apart….

"What total bullshit!" Malfoy expostulated. "No one but Greg would believe this kind of…" He looked at Harry sadly.

"Is it her writing?" Harry said.

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't… I'm not really sure."

Harry swore. "Look at this last letter," He said. "They've been coming every two or three days, but the last was sent just after Goyle's party… there may have been one more."

Malfoy summoned the elf, who had been waiting, glaring at them all the while, in the corner of the room.

"Did Gregory receive any owls today?"

The elf looked obstinate.

"It is not Flipsy's place to be telling you sirs anything."

Malfoy clenched his teeth, but Harry had a sudden idea.

"Flipsy ,is it?" He knelt down. "Flipsy, who is your master?"

The elf appeared to consider, and then decide that the information had no value.

"Flipsy has been sworn since birth to the House of Goyle," he said, proudly.

"Yes," Harry said, firmly. "That's very admirable. But Flipsy, who is your master specifically,"

The elf half-closed its eyelids over its huge, bulbous eyes, looking sly. "Flipsy is sworn to the head of the family, Sir."

"Godfried Goyle?" Harry guessed.

The elf looked frustrated. "Godfried Goyle is saying that is true, sir. But Flipsy is knowing…" seemingly self-conscious, he corrected his grammar. "Flipsy knows that the line is passing from Gregory Goyle to his son Gregory Goyle. Only because the Wizengamot is saying Master Gregory is not the master until he is 24. But Flipsy knows that he is the real master." He said this last with a puff of breath, and then looked all around, as if nervous that someone unseen had heard him.

"I see," said Harry, sympathetically. "You see, Flipsy, the thing is… we believe Young Master Gregory is in great danger. It would help us a great deal if you could tell us what mail he received this morning… what visitors… if anything else was out of the ordinary."

Flipsy looked very nervous indeed.

"The Sirs promise?" He said, plaintively.

"I promise," Harry said, firmly. After a moment, he looked sharply at Malfoy, who was looking down at him with an expression of confusion on his elegant face. Malfoy appeared to recover himself. "I promise too," He said.

The elf sighed slowly. "Flipsy is knowing that Master Draco Malfoy has always been a good friend to Young Master Gregory Goyle," he said, softly. Although it was Harry who had appeased him, he looked at Malfoy as he relayed his information.

"Young Master Goyle has received many letters, always from a small gray owl," he said. "He is thinking these owls is from Miss Greengrass, but Flipsy is thinking she keeps a different owl. Master Gregory is thinking she has two, but Flipsy is thinking…" he moaned. "It is very sad," he said. "Master Gregory received an owl this morning, but it came when he had gone to the Ministry. He read it when he came back, and then he left again. Flipsy does not know what the letter said, because he tooks it with him."

"Flipsy, this is very important. Do you know where he went?"

Flipsy shook his head.

"Flipsy is sorry, Sirs, but he does not."

After they left Goyle's again Malfoy paced like a tiger in a cage. Harry tried to think of something to say to calm him, but didn't know what.

Malfoy stopped after a few minutes. "I've been trying to think," he said, "of every place I know that Goyle might be. But nothing that comes to me seems quite right. I just don't know… don't you Aurors have any tracking spells you can do, or something?"

Harry shook his head. "Unless either of them uses magic large enough to create a magical signature we can track, or apparatus somewhere – before we left, I asked the department to send me an alert when that happened, but there's been nothing so far…"

Draco frowned. "The first spell they detect will be the one that kills him."

"Yeah."

They were still in front of Goyle Manor. Watching Draco pace, Harry felt terrible. He tried to think as well, of where Goyle might have taken his nephew, but if Malfoy, who knew him so well, couldn't think of anything, what chance did Harry have of… "Maybe Cielo?" The thought came to him in a flash.

Malfoy whirled around.

"I've been thinking about what Goyle said to me. He tried to paint his nephew as a homophobic criminal. But he also said some things, as if he meant to imply that the whole reason Goyle was so homophobic was that he was closeted himself."

Malfoy just stared at him.

"Well," Harry said, clearing his throat. "The Auror department released Goyle this morning. So it must be clear to Godfried by now that we aren't buying his story about Goyle being the murderer. He's got to get rid of Goyle to get rid of the memories, the evidence. So isn't the next logical step to kill his nephew, and make it seem like the third in a series of hate-based crimes…?"

Malfoy's face was as white as a sheet. He came up very close to Harry, so that their faces were only inches apart. It would have been intimate if not for the extreme desperation painted on it. He grabbed Harry's collar, and for millisecond Harry was confused as to what was happening, before the dark warp of Malfoy's apparition took them, and he found himself falling to the ground behind the Cielo dumpster, confused.

"A bit of warning next time!" Harry said, but Draco was already shushing him.

"Both Grindling's and Wandsworth's bodys were found over there –" Harry whispered, more quietly. "Grindling's in the alley, Wandsworth's in the park."

They set towards the park at a jog, not bothering with transfiguring their robes, although it was daylight and there were people out, who looked at them oddly as they passed by. Harry kept his wand tucked at his side, to make it less noticeable, and he noticed that Draco did the same.

When they neared the park he felt at once the quiet muffling of charms, both the types to dissuade casual passersby and the types to hide magical activity and magical signatures. Of course, Harry growled to himself. He should have paid more attention to the park – hidden some detection spells there, at least. It was such a good place for a murderer to go unnoticed that of course Goyle would have decided to use the location more than once.

He started forward, but Draco put out an arm to stop him. "Wait," he said. "He's got charms, too, that'll give him warning if anyone enters. Let's go around the side."

There was a gate to the east and to the west, carefully, crouching down so as to be out of site, they made their way to the eastern side and peered in.

All was quiet grass and lush, dark trees. There was no sign of any movement: in fact, it looked as peaceful as Eden.

"Blast this," Malfoy said, "There's no time." He looked at Harry. "Follow behind me, but keep your signature quiet, all right?"

Before Harry had time even to process what Draco had said, Malfoy was unshielding his magic. He walked directly into the garden, raising his wand as he did so and speaking a spell that made half the charms in the place sizzle and pop. There was no way that anyone in garden was yet unaware of his presence.

Harry waited a few moments, and then, quietly the small pack he had earlier taken from the bank, resizing it as quietly as possible and then unfurling the cloak of invisibility, which he normally kept locked away at Gringott's for safe-keeping. Draping it over his shoulders, he quietly followed Draco into the park.

There was a small ring of trees, and then a path of the sort usually populated, at that time of day, by joggers and people with dogs. Now, however, it was strangely empty.

Draco strode forward, down the path, wand in hand. His black robes cut the air behind him. Harry followed behind, feeling like a ghost, when suddenly Draco ran, as if surprised, behind a tree.

In the woods between the trees Harry saw then a small clearing, in which two figures stood before what appeared to be a common muggle birdbath.

Draco crept towards it, and Harry as well, as quietly as possible so that no branches cracked beneath his feet. Less visible than Draco, he moved ahead of him, ready to surprise Godfried from the front as Draco appeared from behind. As he drew closer, Harry saw that the two figures were, indeed, Gregory and his Uncle. After another few meters, he could hear their low conversation.

"It's better this way," Godfried was saying, "think of the honor of the family."

"I don't care about that,' Goyle replied, speaking more loudly and snuffling as if holding back damp tears.

"Put your memories into the pensieve," Godfried said, "and then take this knife."

Goyle seemed confused. He looked from his uncle to the birdbath, and then back again. Harry came around the other side of the bath and saw the silvery liquid that filled it. Godfried Goyle wished to extract a confession from his nephew before killing him. From Harry's perspective, it made grim sense. With Gregory alive, a good Healer would surely be able to prove that the memories had been false. With him dead, a Pensieved confession along with the actual memories of the crime would be hard evidence to contradict, no matter how much Harry or another might suspect the uncle.

"I don't want too…" Goyle quavered.

"It's the best way…"

Harry waited. He was sure that Malfoy was waiting too.

With a sigh, Goyle bent over the pensieve, and allowed it to draw in his thoughts – the thoughts of the murder, which Harry was sure, now, had never been his to begin with, but must have been planted their by his uncle. As the Pensieve filled, Godfried seemed to relax slightly, and gripped the knife a little tighter.

Goyle looked at his uncle with miserable eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's done."

"Take the knife, Gregory,"

Goyle looked at his uncle uncertainly.

"Do you want to go back to Azkaban?" His uncle hissed.

"No!" Gregory seemed to speak with fright. "No, but…" His fingers inched towards the knife, but then drew back.

Harry waited, as he was sure Draco was waiting too. Godfried's hand was on the knife, his wand by his side. Harry was sure he would take up the wand as soon as his nephew took the knife, but there would be a brief instant when he would be unarmed, and that was when Harry intended to strike.

Godfried seemed to be impatient. "Take it, Gregory," he said, firmly. "This is the only way."

And Gregory seemed to agree, for he nodded his head and wrapped his large hand around the hilt of the knife.

But, just at that moment, a movement or a sound must have alerted Godfried to the presence of intruders, for he pulled the knife back, slicing a clean, deep gash through Gregory's palm as he drew back, taking his wand in his other hand as he did so.

"Revelius," he called, in a strong voice, and the trees around Malfoy drew back, to reveal him, standing with wand raised.

But Godfried spoke more quickly.

"Aveda Kiev-" He cast the spell on Draco so quickly that Harry didn't have a moment to move, but it didn't matter, because Gregory's large fist came from nowhere, slamming into his uncle's face so hard that the words were cut off as Godfried's teeth closed down onto his tongue.

Gregory was standing, panting in anger, and Godfried was doubling over, cradling his jaw in his hand. Harry took the moment to slip forward and yank Godfried's wand quickly away from his loose fingers, yanking his cloak off a moment later and hitting Godfried with a solid stunning spell.

Malfoy ran forward, looking only a little shaky for having been almost hit by the killing curse. Goyle looked at him, eyes round, and then down at his own fist, as if he was not sure what had happened.

"Draco!" He said, almost mournfully. "What's going on?"

Malfoy ran up to him. When he reached within a foot of Gregory he stopped. If Harry had been in such a situation with Ron or Hermione, he would have thrown his arms around their neck, perhaps, but as it was Malfoy only stopped, and stared back at Goyle, panting for a moment as if struggling to regain his calm.

"It wasn't you," He said. "It wasn't you, Goyle, you idiot. You didn't kill those men. You're uncle-" he cast a spiteful look at Godfried, "Just wanted you to think that. He wanted to take your money."

Goyle looked at Malfoy. It was clear that he didn't understand at all, but at the same time his eyes were large and the shine of panic was dimming. He looked towards his uncle, who was still paralyzed by Harry's spell, and then back towards Draco, and it was as if some of the tension in his body dissipated.

"He tried to kill you," He said.

Malfoy nodded unsteadily. After a pause, he reached forward and clasp Gregory, firmly, on the shoulder.

Harry looked on awkwardly. They all stood, silently, catching their breaths.

"Good," Goyle said, finally. "Good. I didn't want to have killed those men. I thought – only I thought…" he looked at Malfoy. "You know sometimes I forget things."

Malfoy nodded.

"But I didn't have wanted to kill them, because I didn't hate them."

"I know," Malfoy said, quietly.

"I wouldn't have killed them for… being like that." Goyle looked at Malfoy quite steadily. Harry knew that Gregory was very thick, and he didn't think that he was the type to send coded messages. Yet Goyle seemed to be looking at Malfoy very hard. "I don't care about them being that way."

Malfoy drew a long, shuddering breath, and then he sighed. "So you've seen through me," he muttered, so low under his breath that Harry barely heard him. "I think everyone's seen through me, now."

Harry knew exactly what was meant. With so many people in on Malfoy's secret, it was almost inevitable that the information would begin to spread. Looking at Malfoy's rather pinched visage, it was clear that he himself did not want – was not ready – for that to happen. And yet Harry could not help but feel obscurely glad – perhaps because he had, subconsciously, already decided on his own route.

"Come on," He said, brusquely, more to break then tension than for any other reason. He gestured impatiently towards the pensieve. "Let's collect the memories, and get back to the Ministry, and have this man in a holding cell."

Draco and Goyle both looked at him.

"I haven't clearance to apparate within the Auror's office," Goyle said.

Harry nodded. "We'll go just to the foyer, then"

After a moment of uncomfortable searching in Godfried's robe pockets, they found a small vial in which to collect the memories, which he had doubtless prepared for the purpose. Draco gathered the memories up cautiously and then signaled his readiness to go Harry touched Godfried's prone body with one hand – the man's eyes, the only part of him that Harry'd let move, darted back and forth angrily". He saw Malfoy touch Goyle's sleeve, and then he apparated.

The darkness twisted in for a moment, and then he found himself amidst a flash of blinding lights. That, combined with the change from daylight to inner lighting inside of the Ministry, left him blindly blinking for a moment. As his eyes cleared, he realized that a photographer was not a foot away from him, the large bulb directly in his face. Kingsley Shacklebolt, stood, looking only slightly surprised by his entrance, and Rita Skeeter was next to him.

Harry's stomach dropped as Malfoy and Goyle apparated behind him. Not only was the foyer totally full of people visiting the Ministry on their daily business - they might have slipped by with a minimum of fuss – but somehow they had happened to land on top of one of Skeeter's regular stormings of the Ministry. Her present absolutely implied a scene. Indeed, as she turned and saw him, she gave a squeal of almost girlish delight, and came running forward, the poisoned-pen floating hurriedly to keep up behind her.

"Harry Potter!" She said. "You have failed to comment several times on my request for an interview concerning the recent murders of deviant wizards! Are you here today with a suspect in hand!" She looked eagerly from Malfoy to Gregory to the slack-jawed, stunned Godfried, and her eyes narrowed a little and then she positively beamed. "You don't' mean to tell me that you have arrested this pre-eminent member of society on suspicion of the crime?"

Harry had been irritated as soon as he saw Skeeter's green-lizard-coat in the entryway not he felt his face growing red with anger.

"No comment," He growled, pushing by Skeeter and dragging Godfried behind him.

"Auror Potter!" Skeeter called from behind him. A photographer managed to get around to the front somehow, and take a full shot of Harry's face. The light blinded him for a moment, and he dropped Godfried's arm for a moment, covering his eyes with his hand. Skeeter lunged forward like a rabid dog.

Harry felt a large form come between him, as Gregory Goyle placed his solid form directly between Harry and Skeeter. Goyle did not look at him, but Harry caught from the corner of his eye Malfoy's amused smirk. To find himself shielded, as Draco had so often been in school, was a peculiar experience indeed.

"We have proof!" Malfoy called out, with casualness which was almost certainly theatrical, brandishing the memories. Godfried's eyes flashed and he seemed to strain against the binding spell. Every onlooker in the foyer watched with rapt interest. "He attempted to coerce his nephew into taking the blame for him - the evidence is here."

Pandemonium erupted. All those who had been watching the exchanges quietly began to chatter about what they had heard.

"Ladies and Gentleman." With a booming voice, Shacklebolt managed to call everyone's attention, regaining control of the situation that had threatened to descend into chaos. "Auror Potter," he said, "please escort the suspect to Auror's offices, please."

Harry nodded and headed towards the door. Before he could reach it, however, he was arrested by the whispering around him.

"…deviant wizards" – there was uneasy gasping –"is Godfried Goyle going to be arrested for that?"

And then, having gathered her breath for an additional vitriolic attack.

"Auror Potter-" that cloying, false sweetness always left him furious – "do I detect, from your tone a certain degree of personal involvement in this case?"

Harry swung around, and stared her down. Skeeter drew her breath in, but continued. "The victims were both gay wizards, were they not? Is this something that you, yourself, may relate too?"

The room went deathly silent. Harry continued to stare Skeeter down. He waited until he could see the sweat beading at her temples before he spoke. It was unfathomable that he was about to intentionally give Rita Skeeter one of the largest breaks of her career.

He smiled, confidently charming. Just for an instant he caught Malfoy's eye. Draco was very white, nearly shaking.

"Ms. Skeeter," he said. "If you are indeed hinting at my sexual orientation, as I believe you are, I regard this as a private matter that does not, in any way, interfere with my work in this case.

However, as it seems inevitable that it is a topic that will be of general interest, I would like to clearly state that I am, myself, gay. I have only recently become able to make this admission, even to myself."

He paused.

"Regarding the victims, Timothy Wandsworth and Leonard Grindlings, I am grateful for the opportunity to bring their murderer to justice. I believe they were killed because they were seen as easy targets, exiled from and therefore unprotected by mainstream society. "

He hesitated, looked down at his feet, and then looked up again, again, for a moment, straight at Malfoy.

"I have made this public admission in the hope that it can help other gay wizards to find better acceptance."

He stopped, because there seemed nothing else to say. The room was still deathly silent, but he could not read anyone's expression at all – he could not tell if his announcement had been me t with anger, or resistance, or acceptance or incredulity.

He turned again to leave the hall. Perhaps five seconds of silence passed, and then, the voices came, all at once – some calling to ask questions, some talking to one another. He hadn't the energy to listen – in fact, only one voice happened to reach him, and it was quite a random one- some witch with a particularly carrying voice, who turned immediately to her companion and said, "Isn't it romantic how Gregory Goyle was protecting him just then!"

Harry's eyes widened, and he snorted with laughter. All his tension suddenly broken, and he suddenly felt free, even mischievous. He glanced over his shoulder and addressed the witch who had spoken.

"There may be one former Slytherin I'd be interested in dating," he said, giving her a wink. "But rest assured, it isn't Goyle."

Then he left, riding high on the euphoria of the moment.

Epilogue

In the aftermath of that incident, he was suspended from the Auror's for a week – no official explanation was given, but Kingsley told him it was because they needed 'time to think'. Harry, understanding that this meant more that Kingsley needed the time to clear things with the Auror's department, had agreed. If Kingsley's eyes were a little harder when he looked at Harry than before, if he were just a bit more awkward when he clasped Harry on the shoulder and called him by his given name, Harry could not say. He was just grateful for the man's imperturbable support.

He was forced to make his home temporarily unplottable, and for several days apparated only between his home, and Ron and Hermione's apartment, in order to avoid the storms of reporters that were, they informed him grimly, camped out around every location he visited even infrequently. Hermione received all the papers, and she kept him updated on part of what was being reported – Harry trusted her to edit out those reports that he might not wish to see for a while. Rita Skeeter's expose was, understandably, the largest and most sensational article – she reported that she had seen in coming for years. The article overall contained approximately equal parts hand-wringing despair over the state of the world (of which Harry Potter was held up as a typical example) and falsely cloying sympathy, complete with oblique references to appropriate magical therapy.

He was an Auror, and used to days of busy activity, so it only required about three quiet evenings playing board games with Ron and Hermione to begin to feel itchy and restless.

That was the mood he was in as he sat on Ron and Hermione's couch one evening, reading a muggle novel he had picked up from the nearby Waterstone's and drinking an irritatingly herbal tea - Hermione had recently switched out all caffeinated beverages in the house for healthier options.

When the tap on the door came, Harry was prepared to ignore it – it wasn't his home, after all, and Ron and Hermione weren't in, and they'd be receiving their fair share of reporters anyway – but something about the sound, which was short and did not repeat itself – lead him to rise from the sofa. He slid the door open a crack. Malfoy stood on the doorstep, looking nonchalant but still somehow managing to insert himself into the opening immediately so that Harry was forced to let him into the living room.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy snapped. He looked around the room, sighed, and removed his coat, holding it out to Harry presumptively. Harry took the coat and hung it on the rack, next to his own. "Where have you been? Why haven't you been at the office?"

Harry looked at him with only the slightest amusement. "I've been suspended," he said. "Didn't they tell you?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed as if he was annoyed. "No. That receptionist of mine only ever told me you were out. She doesn't like me, I think."

Harry nodded slowly. "Sit down," he said."Would you like some tea?"

Malfoy picked Harry's mug from the table and sniffed it suspiciously. "No, thank you," he said, replacing the cup and sinking onto the couch.

Harry grunted in agreement and sat down as well. "I suppose you've heard about the case…" he said.

Malfoy snorted. "Well, Shacklebolt wasn't much more forthcoming than the receptionist, but I did remember that coroner we met at St. Mungo's. I met him, and he explained to me all about the pensieved memories…"

"Yes," Harry said. "It seems that he's developed a few simple techniques that revert the memories to their original form. Whatever Godfried did to them was a little like imagination – he mixed his own real memories of the crime with memories he'd taken from Goyle… er, Gregory. Once Dwindles was able to separate them, there was no chance of him weaseling out of the crime. His trial comes up next week.

Draco nodded. "It's all over, then."

"Yes." Harry paused. "How are you?"

Malfoy shrugged diffidently. "I don't know, really." He looked at Harry. "Astoria came and promised not to say anything, but judging from some of the looks I received at my mother's luncheon yesterday, I'd wager she's probably let it slip to a few people." He paused. "I would have been perfectly happy to continue a double life forever, you know!" He sounded almost angry. "I'm a Slytherin – I'm not like you. A bit of secrecy is the spice of life, and I don't care about helping other people, either." He snorted. "Ridiculous false concept.

Now, my stock will only continue to fall until I address the rumor. I could cover it up, of course – convince Astoria she'd misunderstood me – even get married to prove the point. She's half in love with me, I could convince her." He looked at Harry sideways.

"She's more than half in love with you," Harry admitted. "Everything she's doing or saying now – it might still just be to try and get your attention."

"I know," Draco smiled sardonically. "So, I have an admirer. The question is, Potter, what are you going to do about it?"

It was a delicious feeling to have Draco at his mercy, for, no matter how Malfoy tried to obscure the situation, that was exactly how things were. It was, perhaps, why Harry had chosen to wait a few days before contacting him. Harry smiled and Draco snapped.

"I know what you said in the hall that day." He looked straight at Harry. "Don't try to play games. I've been doing it longer, and I'm better at it." He slid smoothly closer to Harry on the couch, until they were so close that their legs touched. He brought his face very close to Harry, and chucked when he saw Harry's Adam's apple drop in a reflexive gulp. "I can certainly seduce someone with as little experience as you," he said, smoothly, letting his hand come to play gently on Harry's knee.

"Would you like to go out sometime?" Harry blurted.

"Potter, Potter, Potter." Malfoy let his hand stroke a little up and down Harry's leg with each word. "I don't think you fully comprehend yet what I am offering."

"What?"

Malfoy smiled and drew his hand away. Harry missed it.

"Did you see what was in the Prophet this morning?"

Harry shook his head. "Does it matter?"

Malfoy shrugged. He reached into his pocket and removed a small sheet of paper, unfolded it, and passed it to Harry.

"Letter to the Editor," it read:

"I have been unsurprised, but saddened, by the negative backlash against Harry Potter's recent announcement that he is gay.

As the mother of a teenage son, I was shocked and hurt to learn, while he was still a student in Hogwarts, that he was interested in other boys and had, in fact, gone so far as to form a relationship of several months with another male student. Had it been a girl, it would have been a great pleasure for me to look on my son's first romance from a distance… as it was, I feared that the road he had started down was one which would surely destroy him, and I did all in my power to change it, even going so far as to force him to leave my home as a last attempt to force a change in his behavior.

But that was my mistake as a mother, for while I thought that it was his sexuality that would harm him, what caused his death in the end was not that, but rather that I had abandoned him – and not only me, but also his friends, his teachers, his whole community – everyone, in fact, on whom a young person should be able to rely.

Because of that hatred and fear, my son is no longer alive in this world. And, because of the same emotions, I fear that we as a community are now on the verge of turning against the Boy Who Lived, although no one can deny that we owe him everything.

I, for one, support Harry Potter in his decision to live openly as a gay wizard. I pray that my mistake will be avoided by others – for no one deserves what happened to my son.

Sincerely

Margot Wandsworth."

"She changed her mind," Harry breathed.

"Yes. Although her husband's name isn't anywhere on that letter, you notice – I wonder if they've disagreed."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "It means something to me."

"It means something to me, too," Malfoy said. "Not anything trite or emotional, mind. But this was just the first. Since then, all day, I've been talking to people who responded positively to that letter – people who don't agree with the old ideas anymore."

He lifted his hand, and touched Harry's cheek softly. It was a calculated gesture, as nearly all Malfoy's gestures would be, but Harry knew that, and it touched him anyway.

"I've been on the losing side before," Malfoy said, "And I much prefer to be with the winner. And I'm starting to think that you might be able to win this one, too. So."

He looked down, for a moment, he almost seemed shy.

"So," he said. "Yes, Potter, I accept your rather poorly phrased invitation. I would like to 'go out sometime' with you. Specifically, Friday, at El Basilisco. With no privacy charms – in the picture-window in the front of the restaurant, if you like – for the whole world to see."

Malfoy's face as he looked up again was slightly flushed, whether with excitement or fear, Harry couldn't say. Just for a moment, he was like the boy at school again, eyes shining over some terrible trick he had just played or was about to play on Harry.

Harry was ready to let him do it.

He leant forward, bringing his chapped lips close to Malfoy's. The expression in Draco's gray eyes was rather unreadable. Harry kissed him.

It was a soft kiss, meant as a thank-you and as reassurance, and then Harry pulled back, but Draco's hand on his shoulder stopped him. It snaked around to the nape of Harry's neck and pulled him back in. Draco kissed him, and it was so fierce and searching that it was clear then that Draco wanted him, and although Harry had suspected that already, knowing it and feeling it were too different things entirely. He responded without any thought, kissing back, riding on the pleasure of the moment.

Draco's hand moving trailing down his back- Malfoy loved touch, Harry would soon learn: both hard enough to be almost painful, and so light that it was ghostlike. In this case, the slight pressure sent a warm rush straight to his groin. It had never been so intense, with Ginny or anyone else, and he groaned with desire, causing Draco to chuckle, his mouth warm against Harry's.

"Wow," Harry said, when Draco broke away for a moment, resting his shoulder on Harry's shoulder to breath.

Malfoy turned his face slightly and kissed him on the neck.

"Wow," said Ron.

Harry turned with a start. Draco, who had managed almost to crawl half onto Harry's lap, left his forehead on Harry's shoulder and peered over languidly, like a cat.

He had not even heard the door open. Ron and Hermione had returned home from their evening out, and now Ron was staring rather fixedly in the opposite direction. Hermione smiled apologetically. Malfoy glared, as if Ron and Hermione had just been the ones caught necking on his couch.

"You're back," Harry said, awkwardly.

Hermione nodded. Ron coughed, rather pointedly, and Malfoy reluctantly put a foot of space between himself and Harry.

"It's nice to see you, Malfoy," said Ron, very stiffly. The question in his voice was clear.

They all four waited, looking at each other. Finally Malfoy raised himself, gracefully, from the couch.

"I think this is my cue". He looked at Ron and Hermione, and then leant over Harry. "Good night."

"Good night," Harry said. "See you on Friday."

"Friday…." Malfoy waved his wand lazily, drawing over his clock over, and pulled it on. He gave a brief nod to Ron and Hermione, and slipped out the door.

"What," Ron asked, as soon as the door shut, with a voice quickly growing panicky, "What was that?"

Harry didn't have an answer. He merely looked at Hermione and smiled.

Hermione, who had known Harry for so long that she understood everything in his face, caught the expression and beamed back. When Ron saw it too, he quieted.

"I'm not saying anything," Hermione said.

"You don't have to," Harry replied. In that moment, he felt energized, and ready to face the future: in short, he was happy.

***

Author's note: Yay! I'm finally done. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers throughout, I appreciate all of you taking the time to make it to the very end of my story. It was fun for me to write, I hope it was fun to read as well! Hasta pronto ~ zsuzsi