Thank you again for all the reviews! This is the last chapter of A Series of Malfoy Events. Thanks for reading along!

Chapter Nineteen—Who, What, How, Why, Where, and When

Harry sat in his own bed, where it felt as if he hadn't spent significant time in months, and watched the stars outside his window. He'd never been a huge fan of Astronomy when he was at Hogwarts, but now that he had his own home away from the lights of a Muggle city, he liked looking into the night sky.

He thought how complex all that was. All those suns millions of miles away, according to Muggle science. But according to wizarding logic, they still had influence on magic and even the future, if you looked at the connections between Astronomy and Divination that Professor Sinistra had never taught them to delve into.

But it was still less complex than the state of affairs between him and Draco.

Well, okay, Harry had to admit after a moment. Maybe not the millions of miles and the influence on magic thing.

But he did know that he'd probably never be able to accept a lover who would test his love by asking Harry to let him die. Or who thought leaping over balconies was an actual, important thing Harry wished to do often. Or who proposed to him on their first date.

Then again, he hadn't thought he could accept a man, either. Or a Malfoy. And he had.

Harry lay back on the window seat, cast a Cushioning Charm that sadly didn't make the window seat compare to even some of the chairs in the anterooms at Malfoy Manor, and contemplated the stars again. How much could he change? Was it even fair to ask Draco to change?

Harry had had enormous fun living in Draco's world, taunting and baiting people as an ordinary thing. But could that really last forever? Would it be good enough if he adopted some of Draco's manner?

I can be teasing and haughty like he can, even if it's just for a while. But I don't know how serious he is. Was tonight enough of a glimpse of that?

Harry thought about things, and nodded slowly. His own test, in a way, except that he would tell Draco what he was doing, and Draco could decide whether he wanted to do it or not. And it wouldn't involve anyone dying.

For that alone, it's better than what Draco was trying, Harry decided, and turned, in a considerably more cheerful mood, to contemplating whether he wanted to date Draco or be married. But in the end, he shook his head. Too much would depend on the outcome of this test.

And let's see what Draco does when I explain it to him.

Draco sat there with his mouth gaping open ungracefully, was what he did. Harry waited a little while, just in case Gapey popped in to remind his master he was catching flies, and then reached out and waved a hand in front of Draco's eyes.

Draco shut his jaw with a click. Then he turned away from Harry and sat on the not-silver bed, staring at the wall.

Despite not seeing his face and not knowing him that well, though, Harry knew he was still upset. For one thing, his fingers were wrinkling the sheets on the bed. In Draco terms, that was probably the equivalent of running around waving his arms and screaming.

"I thought you said I was horrible for testing my lovers," Draco finally murmured, not turning around. "Why would you want the same thing to happen? Why would you want to do this to me?" He looked at Harry again, and his expression would have melted a heart of stone.

Luckily, Harry had taken his heart of stone out that morning and replaced it with a diamond one. "I thought I would see whether you can really be serious for a few seconds," he responded calmly. "Or a minute. It depends on how long it takes you to say."

"It's still a test. It's still not something you should do to someone you love."

"But at the moment, you're not someone I love. You're someone I like a lot and someone I'm attracted to. This is part of the process of seeing if you can ever become more than that to me."

Again Draco closed his mouth with a snap. Again he bowed his head. Harry waited. He didn't want Draco to be pressured into doing this, but on the other hand, if he didn't want to do it, that would say a lot of things on its own about Draco and the—state of things between them.

"If I do this," Draco said, without looking up, "then I want something in return."

"You will get something," said Harry, a little surprised Draco didn't understand that. "You'll get me."

"No. I mean. I want a promise." Draco rocked back on his heels, and having him face Harry was at least better than having him kneel there with his head bowed and tension written all over his body, although Harry still couldn't say that he would be able to grant Draco's request. "I want you to promise you'll at least consider marrying me someday, no matter how long it takes you to come to the conclusion that you want to."

Harry thought carefully about that. It was less restrictive than the sort of thing he had thought Draco would say at first. Then he asked, "And what if it turns out that, when you're serious, I don't like you? That you want all sorts of things I don't want? That I decide we're not compatible after all?"

"Not compatible?"

"I'm not talking about sexually. Yeah, I know there we're more than good. I mean that I might not like you for your personality."

"But I like you for yours."

Part of the problem is that he doesn't understand why there's a problem at all, Harry thought, and sighed a little. "Listen, Draco. I just need to know more about you, and that means I need you to be serious and call up all the seriousness that you can muster for this. Please?" he added when Draco opened his mouth again.

Draco was silent, playing with the sheets some more. Then he nodded. "I want you to consider marrying me if you like what I say."

"Done."

Draco stared at him. Then he sat back and said, "What do you want me to be serious about?"

"I want to know," Harry said, "the answers to two questions. Why you tested your lovers the way you did. And why you proposed to me the way you did. Why it was me and not someone else," he added, when Draco started to speak. "I think I know why you were proposing in general."

Draco's fingers smoothed out and then lay straight again. Harry could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, so loud that it sounded like the buzzing of dragonflies.

"All right," said Draco abruptly. "I'm lonely. I know exactly who I am and what I like, but I feel like I can't trust anyone else to know it. And every time I try to explain it to them, they don't understand. You know, the way you didn't when I tried to explain to you."

He glared at Harry in challenge. Harry kept silent, but, silently, he was thinking that it was partially because Draco's explanations could use some work.

"I know what I want." Draco sat back some more, until Harry thought he was in danger of falling off the bed. "And I'd given up on finding it. But then I found it in you. The same mixture of fire and familiarity that I told you about. And I think you're handsome, and I've more than proven that."

Harry had to nod.

"I wanted to hold onto you. I thought, if I proposed, then it would either turn into a long-term thing and you would stay, or you would be intrigued enough to go along with it at first." Draco darted him another glance. "You were."

"You had to have known that nothing permanent would come out of it. You had to."

"You think everyone's mind works exactly like yours. You think everyone's like an Auror and thinks about who's dangerous and the long-term consequences of their actions all the time. I just wanted someone who would stay with me and love me. I tested people to see if they could. And I grabbed you because you had all the best qualities. You were the best prospect."

Harry considered that carefully. He wondered if he should be flattered or not.

But Draco had stayed serious for longer than Harry had thought he would. And that meant he owed Draco the grace of considering his proposal seriously. He nodded once. "Then it was about me, not just about someone."

"I don't understand you."

Harry looked Draco in the eye. "You were looking for someone who fit your criteria. You said that. You implied you would have grabbed anyone who came along. Is that supposed to make me feel special? But if it was more about me, myself…"

Draco worked his fingers in and out. "It was—I might not have known it was about you, consciously. I wasn't sitting around pining for you and wondering what it would take to get you to notice me."

Harry had to snort. "I hope not."

Draco gave him a faint smile and looked away, his fingers curling down hard again. "But when I saw you, then I knew that, if it worked out the way I wanted it to, it could be wonderful. Of course, it almost immediately didn't start working out the way I wanted it to. I'm sorry for that. I was thinking more about the dream when you tried to hand the ring back to me."

"Well, if you'd just accepted the ring and decided to say nothing more about it, we wouldn't be sitting here now."

"Why did you come back?"

"Because Kingsley assigned me to the case."

"Nothing to do with me, then."

Draco's tone of bitterness was understandable, Harry thought, even if it also made him want to snap back. He reached out and picked up Draco's hand, kissing the backs of his knuckles gently. Draco relaxed long enough to look at him.

"Not at first," Harry said gently. "It is now. There's no way I would still be here and asking you to be serious and tell me what you really thought if it wasn't about you."

Draco nodded slowly. "I know you're not here for my wealth. You have your own. And you're not impressed with my fame—"

"With any fame," Harry thought he had to correct him. "If you think dating me is going to get you more into the public eye for any reason, you need to drop that notion, too. I try and hide my relationships when I can."

"It won't be hidden," Draco said, his eyes narrowing. "I won't have everyone running around believing rumors about a supposed breakup or anything like that. You'll support me, and I'll support you.

"As for needing the fame, I'm famous enough on my own. And the instant I win an important game, I'll be all over the front pages again. You don't need to worry about that."

Harry smiled at him, charmed in a strange way. He wouldn't find that kind of attitude charming in most of the other people who had tried to date him, he knew. Then again, he didn't think he had known those people as well as he knew Draco, both the good and bad parts of him. He nodded and asked, "And you think you can make the people who want to do things like break into my bedroom to take pictures back off?"

"Of course." Draco squinted at him a little. "So could you, if you were just more willing to use force."

Harry grimaced a little. "Don't break anyone's limbs."

"Broken noses and Suffocation Hexes are appropriate?"

"Suffocation Hexes are Dark magic."

"No, they're not. And anyway, they don't show up if you cast the right sort of protection spells on your windows."

Harry gave in and laughed. Draco leaned forwards to kiss him in response. Harry snickered behind his hand as he imagined the faces of some of the reporters if they tried to climb in his windows now, but dropped it and leaned in eagerly to kiss Draco some more because damn, this was better than snickering.

"Now I think I know why you showed up in all the papers so often," Draco murmured when their mouths had parted. "You weren't sufficiently ruthless, even though you could have been, or hired someone to be for you." He paused, his eyes shining in a way that Harry had already learned to be wary of. "Or perhaps you wanted the attention? Part of you. You didn't want to be so ruthless they would stop talking about you."

"That's ridiculous, Draco—"

Draco kissed him again and bore him down on the bed. Then he murmured into his lips, "Probably. But it's a thought. And now I'll be there to be as ruthless as you really can't, and in the meantime, you'll get to be ruthless in turn."

"Don't tell me you have more enemies attacking your wards that you need me to send off."

Draco shook his head. "I want you to fuck me," he said casually, and reached for his wand. "And not with your mouth. Do close your jaw before it falls off."

"I still can't believe I'm doing this," Harry's mouth said, for probably the eighth or ninth time. He thought it was working on its own, by now. He couldn't believe it, and he also couldn't take his eyes off Draco's arse. Of course, since Draco was spread out on his stomach on the bed, and with some pillows beneath his hips to prop them up, it pretty much filled Harry's field of vision.

"I knew my arse was unbelievable," Draco murmured into the pillow. "But I had no idea it was literally that way."

Harry licked his lips and tried to pretend that he hadn't already filled his hands and Draco's hole with way too much lube. On the other hand, he had never done this before. He said that, too.

"Yes," Draco said. "I think even Cellary knows by now."

"Let me guess. He's the elf in charge of the wine cellars."

"No, he's in charge of making cellars out of the dungeons and getting rid of all the traces the Dark Lord left in our real cellars during the war." Draco lifted his hips and wriggled that unbelievable arse when Harry paused. "I don't hear the squeaking, Harry."

Obediently, Harry rubbed his hands over each other again. The lube squeaked in his palms. It meant, among other things, that he didn't have to think about crazily-named house-elves.

"Now," Draco whispered abruptly, hunching his shoulders and looking at Harry over one of them.

Harry nodded slowly. He had also smeared his cock with so much wetness that it looked as if he had already come. He had to do something soon, or he would simply kneel here for the rest of his life rubbing lube between his hands and worrying about whether it was enough.

Then, of course, he thought it wasn't enough again when he started to actually slide into Draco. Merlin, his cock was so big and Draco's hole was so small—

"I suppose I have to do things on my own here. The same way I so often have to catch the Snitch to win the game on my own."

Harry didn't have time to ask what Draco was talking about before he jammed his arse back and onto Harry's cock. Except he missed, and slid a little along the bed, with Harry sliding helplessly with him on the slick lube, half-in and half-out. Harry finally grabbed Draco's hips—a non-slippery place—and adjusted himself into proper fucking position.

At least, he thought it was. He had to admit he had no idea, and maybe, for all he knew right now, he was hurting Draco.

But from the way Draco was gasping and grunting, something was going right. Harry cautiously relaxed and fucked him some more. But then Draco turned his head over his shoulder and said, "You call that fucking?"

"I don't know what to call it," Harry admitted, and moved some more. It felt—good? But from the impatient expression on Draco's face, it could feel better.

Draco wriggled and thrashed across the bed, back to the pile of pillows that he'd put under his hips at first. "Come here," he said over his shoulder. Harry had to get up on his knees and move a little, with Draco bossily telling him, "Left—now, you've got your knee over too far—right—ouch, you arsehole—"

But then Draco gasped and went boneless underneath him, and Harry reckoned something was finally going right. He relaxed and began to thrust in and out. It wasn't that different to some of the times he'd been with a woman, he thought.

Except that this was Draco, and he still complained non-stop. It just took him a little longer, because he had to get his breath, and apparently that was hard with Harry bouncing in and out of him.

"Watch out—that's good—that's good, but—it could be—better—come on then—show me—what—what? What was—that? Come on—Harry!"

That last bit, his name, was very nice, Harry decided. He wanted to make Draco do that again. He reached out and caught his cock, squeezing it gently. Then he thrust and squeezed at the same time. Would that be good?

That was perfect, apparently, from the way that Draco abandoned himself to moans and sighs. He wasn't even speaking anymore, just making happy noises into the blankets and pillows in front of him. Harry grinned and moved harder.

Well, one way this is different from being with a woman. It was harder work. Harry was used to spending less time than this, and less effort.

But it was worth it when Draco abruptly started to his hands and knees and almost screamed. Harry thrust harder. Draco reached back towards him, and Harry caught his hand once, but had to let it go because this was just too awkward.

"Yes!"

Just that one cry, and then Draco came, with a shudder that made Harry feel all sorts of things around his cock that he'd never felt before. He swore and followed Draco, gripping hard enough that he saw bruises when he moved his hands. He had the distinct impression that he should feel worse about them than he did.

Draco dropped face-down with one last shattering gasp. Harry followed him, but didn't immediately go to sleep. For one thing, he liked to admire Draco's relaxed face.

For another, he still had to put up the spell that kept Semeny out.

"…And just for one day, joining the Falmouth Falcons as Chaser, Harry Potter!"

Harry could hear the explosion of cheers all over the pitch and from the stands. It didn't matter, though. His attention was on the other players, the darting brooms, the Quaffle he would have to toss through the hoop and pass to the other players if he was going to be any good at all, and the Bludgers that would try to stop him.

Well, and Draco, because it was impossible to be on the pitch when Draco was playing Quidditch and not pay attention to him.

Harry could admire the way the uniform stretched across his shoulders, and maybe, more to the point when Draco bent over his broom to scan the air ahead for the Snitch, his arse. But he couldn't get too distracted, because there were all those other things to worry about.

Harry tossed the Quaffle to Anna Grey, one of the other Chasers, and spun out of the way of a Bludger. The one good thing about having "famous Harry Potter" on the Falcons' team was that their opponents, the Wimbourne Wasps, decided they had to focus a lot of frantic attention on Harry, in case he did something outrageous and likely to win the game.

But they still thought Harry was a Seeker. The Chasers pulled up to try and foul him the way they would a Seeker. The Beaters got ready to hit their Bludgers when Harry acted as if he was about to pull into a dive or take off for the far side of the pitch.

None of them were prepared when Harry simply tilted back and grabbed the Quaffle from Grey, then tossed it to Jester, the third Falcon Chaser, then dropped into a smooth, curving dive that didn't carry him very fast or far.

"Potter's seen the Snitch!" yelled the commentator, who didn't understand some things despite the way he'd announced Harry.

The Wasps' Beaters immediately chased Harry, heating two Bludgers at him at once. The Falcons' Beaters got in the way long enough to deflect one of them, but that still left another weaving through the brooms and aiming at the back of Harry's head.

The Wasps' Chasers snapped their heads around after him. Their Keeper surged a little towards Harry, hesitated, flew back, then wobbled as he tilted his head back in an attempt to see whether the Snitch was above him and Harry's dive just a distraction.

No one seemed to notice as Jester soared directly at the hoop and threw the Quaffle through it three times, making up for the number of points the Falcons were behind. Then he fluttered up to a good distance above the hoop and threw the Quaffle with a spin behind it that Harry had advised him to use.

Harry turned upside-down and soared through the confusing mass of air and brooms and players to catch the Quaffle between his legs. The Bludger chasing him hit the Falcons' hoop and got batted away by their Keeper to stagger dizzily down towards the pitch.

Harry turned and threw the Quaffle through the hoop at the exact moment as Draco, on the other side of the field, caught the Snitch with both hands.

The cacophony of shouts after that was delirious and delicious and incomprehensible. Harry turned around to smile at Draco, and saw Draco move his hand in a certain way just as his robes went transparent.

Transparent for Harry only, he was sure. He watched Draco touch his groin with the back of his hand, long and slow and soft-knuckled.

Harry licked his lips and ignored the people asking him if he would stay and fill Cassel's place until the Falcons could find another Chaser. He had something much more interesting to watch.

And do, when they got home.

I should probably find out if there's a house-elf called Lubey.

The End.