Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR and her publishers; no money is being made.

The day after, staring down at his messy desk at Auror Headquarters, Harry was unable to exactly remember how he had ended up getting drunk with Malfoy of all people.

It had been a day for which even "utterly, completely shitty" would have been a euphemism. Exactly two months ago, Ginny had packed her things and left after five years together, and until that day, Harry had somehow managed to live in denial. He wasn't sure why now, but in the morning, he had got up, looked at the empty side of the bed, the empty half of the drawer, and the empty chair at the breakfast table, and reality had come crashing down on him. Ginny was gone, and she wasn't going to come back.

Work had been dull and dreary, a desk full of reports that should have been written weeks ago, and by the end of the day, he'd felt exhausted, unhappy, and a desperate need for alcohol.

He was pretty sure that he'd gone to the pub alone – he couldn't imagine having asked Malfoy to accompany him, or the other way round. They managed to not insult each other during meetings or when seeing each other in the corridor, but that was as much civility as anyone could expect between them.

They must have met at the "Golden Knut", then, although it was still beyond him how they might have started talking. Probably Malfoy commenting on how awful he looked, or some other typical Malfoy remark.

All that he knew was that somehow, they had begun talking about women...and hadn't there been something about Malfoy's wife and another man? Whatever had happened, in the end, they'd been mightily pissed, and agreeing on the fact that women weren't the be-all and end-all anyway...

"A-a-and all the babbling about f-f...feelings!" Malfoy shook his head in frustration. "Isn't it enough to tell them that you l-love them? N-no, it's 'H-how much do you love me?' 'W-would you l-love me if...if...oh, I dunno, some nonsense or other.' And: 'If we h-hadn't met, could you have loved another woman j-just as m-m-much?"

"Tell me about it," Harry mumbled into his Firewhisky. "And 'Do you think I'm beautiful?' 'Do I look good in this?' 'Why didn't you tell me I look like a walrus in that dress? How could you let me run around like that?' As if that mattered so much. And what do they think, that we married them because we find them ugly?"

"Face the t-truth, Potter." Malfoy's hand landed on Harry's shoulder. "Men will n-never...never understand women. They're not made f-for each other. Women are too...weird. C-c...complicated. And," he squeezed tightly, making Harry turn to face him, "most importantly: they have no penis."

Harry stared mutely.

"It's true," Malfoy went on in a tone that sounded deeply philosophical to Harry in his current state. "Women just c-can't appreciate them, because...because they don't h-have them. They're..." He waved his free hand, searching for the right word.

"Ignorant," Harry finished. "They're ignorant; they don't know how it is. To be a man. To have a penis." It made all perfect sense. He wouldn't have thought that Malfoy could say something so intelligent.

"Right." The other man was beaming. "At least you...you get it. But you d-do have one. A penis, I mean."

"'Course I do!" The room was getting increasingly warm, and he felt the strange urge to prove that he did indeed have a penis. "Wanna see?"

"What?" Malfoy managed to let his glass drop to the floor instead of putting it back on the counter.

"I mean...I..." Harry felt slightly dizzy. What did he say? It probably hadn't been all that important anyway. "Let's get out of here."

Leaning on each other, they made it out of the pub and down the street, but suddenly, Malfoy stumbled and fell, pulling Harry with him. They landed on the ground in a heap of limbs, and somehow, their faces ended up just inches apart.

"Penis," Harry murmured. "That's...what I meant. Wanna see?"

He leant forward and kissed Malfoy, or maybe Malfoy kissed him – he wasn't quite sure, but it didn't matter. His head was swimming, and he didn't feel anything beside Malfoy's lips, soft and warm, and their bodies pressed tightly together.

With some difficulties, they made it into an unlighted archway, and from then on, everything was a blur again – kisses on lips, cheeks, and necks, tongues licking and teasing, the taste of alcohol in both their mouths, Harry's unzipped fly and Malfoy's lifted robes, their hands rubbing undoubtedly existing erections, hushed grunts and moans in the darkness.

"Told you," Malfoy finally whispered, his head lying on Harry's shoulder. "You g-get it. Because you have a...a..."

"A penis!" For some unfathomable reason that had nothing to do with Malfoy's tickling breath on his neck, Harry found the whole thing utterly hilarious all of a sudden. He tried to hold back, but soon burst out laughing, his hold on Malfoy tightening to keep himself upright. Malfoy was companionable enough to not ask any questions, but instead started giggling himself.

When they had calmed down enough to be able to walk again – and after someone had yelled at them from a window to shut the hell up and sod off – they stumbled out of the archway and back onto the street, still chuckling occasionally.

It was then that it had happened, Harry remembered. He'd stepped on something round and almost would have fallen again if Malfoy hadn't held him. Looking down, they had found themselves staring at a couple of spray cans. It took no more than exchanging a look and a grin, and for the next twenty minutes, the two of them had embarked on the highly important quest to communicate their new-found wisdom to the world.

"Penis," Harry sighed, resting his aching head in his hands. "Why the hell did we have to spray 'penis' on that wall right in front of the Ministry?"

"Shut up, Potter!"

Looking up, Harry saw Malfoy standing in the doorway. He looked pale and sickly and as terrible as Harry felt, despite the hangover potion.

"Are you insane?" the other man whispered, stepping into Harry's office. "Do you want anyone to know it was us? Everyone's commenting on it already, and Granger is going on about how today's youth has no manners or values any more. I don't want to imagine what she'd do if she found out!"

To his own surprise, Harry found himself grinning. "About what? The graffiti, or what we did before? I'm sure she'd have to say something to that too. Indecent exposure, unsafe sex, drinking to excess, the possibilities are endless."

Malfoy's mouth opened and closed mutely a few times, then he shook his head and turned away.

"We'll just have to be more careful next time, won't we?" he snapped, before rushing out of the room.

Harry looked after him for a while, still smiling. His headache seemed to have vanished miraculously.