A/N: I do not own this characters, JKR does.

It was three years after the war. Draco Malfoy was living in Italy, he left England with his parents to escape the downfall after the trials. His mother and he avoided prison altogether, his father got 2 years in Azkaban and then was allowed to have house arrest in exile because of his collaboration and the fact that his actions after the battle of the department of ministries were all under duress. Even his first escape from Azkaban was forced. So the Malfoys went to the continent, and Draco chose to stay in Blaise Zabini's estate in Italy.

For a while, he simply joined his friend in the search for pleasure, and he even consoled a couple of Blaises' distraught ex-lovers, but those guys quickly moved on. They were Italians after all. After a few months of debauchery, Draco decided to do something with his life. He apprenticed with a Potions Master, Don Girolamo, a plump and cheery man that sang to the top of his lungs when he was preparing his potions; he had a song and a mood for each brew. That was disconcerting for Draco at the beginning, he was used to silence and austerity with Snape or a certain pomp with Slughorn. But eventually, he got used to it and found himself humming songs as he stirred. His temper calmed down and he decided to leave behind all the prejudice that caused nothing but pain.

Eventually, Italy felt like a vacation that was getting too long. He wanted independence, to open his own shop, and above all, to make peace with his past, or at least try. He decided to return to England, maybe there he could find a sense of stability. He chose to hold the bull by the horns and put himself in touch with his former enemies. Granger and Potter were Ministry employees in the Department Of International Magical Cooperation and the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement respectively, so he needed Granger to validate his foreign apprenticeship and Potter to check his records and clear him as a citizen with no criminal activity in the last three years so he could return. They both were very cordial in their correspondence, and when he finally came into the Ministry for his interviews they were nothing but polite to him. Potter seemed happy to leave all rivalries behind, he was done carrying grudges and was busy enough with the current wannabe criminals that lurked around; Granger was curious and knowledgeable as always, and she even gave him a tip: get in touch with the Weasleys at the joke shop; the potion's side of the business was not going great since Fred's death, George was not the best at it and Ron knew he shouldn't even try if he wanted the shop to stay in one piece.

That visit was more awkward than the ministry one, but Draco sucked it up and talked to the brothers openly and honestly, presenting his apologies and a business plan. George was very excited with the idea of getting back the part of the business that had been failing, but it took a more resentful Ron some convincing and an invitation to an all-you-can-eat muggle place for him to admit that Malfoy was the best potioneer he knew. Draco felt smug. He had learned from the Italians that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, and Ronald Weasley was nothing but stomach. By the end of the meal, Draco was talking about finding good suppliers of potion ingredients, especially exotic plants. It was Ron who told him that the best greenhouses in the country were run by Neville Longbottom. Draco smirked to himself. He wanted a clean start, and that new path apparently was paved with Griffindorks. Oh well, they would probably be honest business partners, all noble that they were. He got Longbottom's information from the Weasleys and decided to go see him the following week.

That weekend Draco got himself settled in his new London flat, and after everything was in place he found himself on Sunday afternoon alone and bored. He looked through the entertainment section of the Prophet to find out what was new and interesting and saw that a new quidditch pitch had been built outside of London for amateur leagues. He decided to check it out. When he apparated there it appeared to be a small crowd cheering but there was not a game going on. He asked a man that seemed to be the groundskeeper and he explained that some daredevils used the pitch on Sundays for their diving competitions. Meaning that they would hover on their brooms to higher and higher altitudes and then dive straight down to the ground, only to lift up at the last minute. This was his kind of entertainment. He decided to watch for a bit and maybe next week he will ask to join. The young men and women doing this were around his age, no underage wizards permitted on this dangerous sport. As Draco kept watching, there was a particularly daring young man. He would climb the highest and come down so close to the ground that every time it seemed like he wouldn't make it. It gave Draco goosebumps and made him strangely aroused. He smirked. A bad boy that would give the Slytherin Prince a run for his money. It didn't help that at least from the bleachers the young man looked very hot. He was obviously tall, with broad shoulders, dark hair and apparently a killer smile. Draco let himself fantasize for a while who this hot daredevil could be

After the games were over he saw the man say his goodbyes and walk towards the showers, taking his game shirt off before getting there. He was tan and had an amazing chiseled physique. Draco decided to try a bit of Italian daring. When the man walked by him he said:

"that was really hot, what you did there".

The hunk turned around with a flirting half smile to say "thanks" and then stopped talking, lifting a gorgeous eyebrow.

"Malfoy? You're back!".

Draco's jaw dropped. The hottie was nonother than Neville Longbottom. They stared at each other for a minute, then Draco extended a hand for Neville to shake and said

"well this is a happy coincidence. I was told to look you up".

"Oh?" replied Neville with a satisfied smile that Draco never thought was possible in the formerly shy boy. Draco explained all about his potions and the need for a good supplier of exotic plants. Neville conjured a business card and gave it to him.

"Come to see me tomorrow, we'll talk business".

He started walking backwards towards the showers and said

"you look good Malfoy",

then turned around and went inside. Draco stood there with his hand on his mouth. He had just been lusting over Neville fucking Longbottom. Did you want new? You got new. Please, Merlin, let him be gay.

The next day Draco felt nervous getting dressed to go meet Neville. Since they will probably be walking through the greenhouses and maybe some fields he decided to wear muggle jeans and a simple grey cotton t-shirt. He told himself it was the best attire for a field visit, but the truth is the jeans looked great on his butt and the t-shirt felt on his figure in all the right places. He was actually trying to impress Neville Longbottom. Oh how the mighty have fallen, he thought with a lustful grin.

Draco looked at the card that Neville gave him and apparated himself to the address. He was standing in front of an arched iron bar gate with arabesques that looked like live leaves and on top of the gate the name "Longbottom Fields". As instructed he announced himself to the magical gate, and it opened to allow him entrance, closing again behind. He followed the gravel path through a beautiful garden and saw in the distance that Neville was working around some plant beds, carrying what looked like sacks of soil, wearing dirty jeans and a tank top, his muscles marked by the effort of carrying the weights. Draco felt a spring in his pants. He took a deep breath and approached.

"Good morning Longbottom".

Neville turned around and gave him a dashing smile

"Malfoy, welcome, come around".

He spelled his hands clean and reach to shake Draco's hand. They exchanged pleasantries and Neville gave him a tour of the gardens and greenhouses. It was impressive. The greenhouses were charmed to imitate all kind of world climates, from rainforest and tundra to deep jungles, so he could grow pretty much anything. Draco never before appreciated how smart Neville was. As a child, he was probably too intimidated by the teachers except for good old Pomona Sprout, who always took him under her wing. But this man was no scared child. The war made him a strong confident man, and he knew what he was doing.

After the tour, Neville invited him to the office/living quarters for tea. When Neville was preparing the snacks Draco spoke:

"I must say it was a big surprise to see you fly, let alone dive".

Neville laughed wholeheartedly.

"I know what you mean. The war turned me into some sort of adrenaline junky. I guess after slaughtering a giant snake you start wondering what else can you do", he said winking at Draco, who felt his pants get really tight.

Neville continued "I went back to Hogwarts to apprentice with Professor Sprout. When I was there I kept looking at the Quidditch teams practicing and decided it was time for something new. So I asked Madam Hooch if she would give me private lessons. Turns out that the old ladyhawk is a daredevil herself, she keeps it quiet to not incite the students. We would go to the pitch when the kids were at Hogsmeade and she taught me to race and to dive. It was awesome."

Draco was mesmerized. The kid whose shoelaces he used to jinx together was now an imposing hunk, and his body exuded an intoxicating mix of testosterone and boldness that left Draco dizzy with lust. He managed to keep his cool long enough to draft and sign the business agreements and was glad that magical contracts took care of themselves because he was not going to be able to think straight around this man.

When their meeting seemed to be coming to a close Draco stood up to say his goodbyes, extended his hand again and when Neville shook it he decided to go for broke. He kept a hold of the hand, pulled him a bit closer and said in a low growl

"have dinner with me".

Neville's eyes sparkled malevolently and he gave him a smirk. Then he spoke in Draco's ear

"it would be my pleasure Malfoy".

Draco's breath caught in his throat. When he could talk again he said

"Friday. My place. I'll owl you the details".

And with that, he made an effort and walked away. The last thing he saw before disapparating was Neville leaning on his front door frame, his muscular arms crossed in front of his chest, giving him a lustful smile.