This story is based on the trailer I watched for a film called "Two Night Stand." I have not seen this movie, so I have no idea if this story is anything like the actual film. I just watched the preview and was inspired. This story has very little angst, minimal plot, and lots of sex. If you're looking for a fic that'll change your life, this isn't the one for you. If you're looking for a fic that might make you smile, then it's it. I hope.

This story has explicit bottom Harry and bottom Draco. Switching, obviously. Conversation about other sexual partners. Made up magical things. Made up Muggle places. Nothing is relevant or exists in real life. Everything that might exist is purely coincidental.

Pre-grindr days — sort of - it's set in 2008. H/D = 28 years old. Muggle living for Draco.

Thanks to Maesterchill for the beta. All the remaining mistakes are mine!

I don't want you (But I need you)

When Harry knocked on the door of the Muggle flat, he had not expected it to be Draco Malfoy. Of course, the online advert had Malfoy's picture, still, he was sceptical about it.

When Malfoy opened the door and gave Harry a once-over, Harry half-expected Malfoy to act like he'd been Obliviated.

"Oh, it is you," Malfoy said.

"And it's you," replied Harry. "So, we're doing this?"

TWO DAYS AGO

HARRY

"Harry, did you look at the bios I sent you from the online ad?"

Harry rolled his eyes and groaned internally. No, he didn't want to go on blind dates with men. He knew he needed to get out of his funk. It'd been ages since he'd had sex but that didn't mean he was going to go back to dating Muggles. Or even have one-offs with them.

Hermione and Ron thought it'd be a great idea if he left the house once in a while. They'd all solved a big case for the DMLE and were on mandatory leave. Harry didn't blame his friends for being sick of him. He did live with them. He'd overheard Hermione say she was tired of how he was always around, and then she cried to Ron about saying such a thing.

They had each other, and it was cute. What wasn't cute was how he was always the third wheel. Even if they had privacy charms up and everything, it was difficult to not know when they were home and alone, and Harry was just in his room. Alone.

"You're going to go out there and you're going to find a new boyfriend," Hermione said.

"Or at least, find someone you can have fun with for the night."

"If you want me to move out—"

"We do not want you to move out," Hermione insisted.

"We do not?" Ron asked, and then, "ow!" When Hermione jabbed him in the ribs.

"I know, guys. Okay?" Harry said. "I'll look at the bios. I think it's totally weird if you want me to go out and find someone to have sex with, you want me to read their blurb first before I see the picture. I mean, I should be the one to decide if I find someone attractive before—"

Thwack

"Ow!" Harry rubbed his head after Hermione hit him with a newspaper.

"She wants you to be fair to a person from the inside before you meet him on the outside," Ron said, laughing and when Hermione glared at him, he immediately sat up straight.

"I know it's stupid but you have a bad record, Harry. All I'm asking is read what everyone has to say and think about it. Is it someone you want to just have fun with or is it someone you want more than just one date?"

"Fine," Harry said resigned. "I hope you know this is very controlling behaviour. If we were at work, you'd totally get in trouble."

"If we were at work, we'd totally get work done," replied Hermione and walked away.

DRACO

"What are we doing again?" Draco asked sitting on the sofa with the Prophet and a cup of coffee as Pansy typed away furiously on his laptop.

"I'm trying to set your account up on this dating site. It's the best one I've found so far with loads of gay blokes. Most of the other sites are filled with straight people." She replied without looking up and continued typing.

"What are you saying about me?" Draco asked, not really caring. After she'd leave, he was going to go and delete the account. This was a song and dance they did and it never worked in her favour.

Draco was fine. He didn't need to meet anyone online. He didn't need to meet anyone. He was fine.

Once in a while he went to a gay club and found someone to go home with, and then he left his flat, and never saw him again. He had a mobile but he could never remember his number. Sometimes blokes would programme their name and number in but by the time they called him, he'd not remembered who they were and then he'd never hear from them again.

It was all a precautionary measurement. He was on probation — still from the Ministry of Magic — and it was such old news, he didn't even care anymore. He worked at the Muggle library in his small town, and it was all fine. If he wanted to date, which he didn't, he didn't need the internet.

He was twenty eight. Not dead.

If he wanted to be on the pull, he'd go on the pull.

"I know you say that all time, but, I think you need to get out of your flat. Maybe if you got into a long-term relationship with a Muggle, the Ministry will think you're actually redeemed."

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. "You know they'll think I've just used the Imperius Curse to make the man fall in love with me."

"I said dating, Draco, not fall in love. Be realistic."

Ouch.

"We'll start small. Maybe one or two dates. Or even just a one-off. Something to get you out of the funk…"

"I'm not in a funk," said Draco.

"You keep telling yourself that, dear."

0-0-0-0-0

After Pansy left, Draco went to his laptop to log into the latest dating website she'd given him an account to and found himself to be locked out. She'd not used any of his usual passwords or email addresses so he couldn't delete his post.

What was worse was that he was starting to get notifications on his mobile, messages from people interested in meeting him, and he couldn't shut it off. Bloody hell, he was going to kill that woman!

In the end, he placed his phone on silent, and went to bed. If she gave him grief about it, he'd say his phone was beeping so much, it went off charge.

Harry

Harry narrowed his choices down to three profiles. Two were quite generic, and he figured by the time he'd get around to seeing their profiles online, he'd lose interest in them. The third, though, was intriguing. Not because it was anything bold, or innovative, or flirty, or sexy… but because of the way it was written.

There was just something familiar about it.

It was also funny because the writer had clearly admitted she was not the one looking for a date, rather, she was filling out an advert on behalf of her best friend. At least, this was honest.

Hermione had done Harry's profile as if she were Harry. Whoever this mystery person was, clearly, had more honest friends. It was even more intriguing Hermione had read this and still submitted it as a candidate.

I'm Kin, here on behalf of my bestie who is a bit shy on the internet. I don't understand why, this thing is quite marvellous. If I already didn't have a boyfriend, I'd be all over this website. Well, maybe not this one in particular because I learned a long time ago trying to shag a gay man is only going to end in tears. And not always mine. Well, enough about me, my friend is a gem. He's shy at first, and that's because he's only silently judging you, he's brilliant like that. But, from what I hear he's also quite good in bed. By hear, I mean literally, as we used to be flatmates during a very dark time in our lives, but now I've managed to get my life together and he's, well, he's still working on it.

He makes amazing eggs, if you only like scrambled, that is, and he is good with his hands. He's mastered the art of doing laundry by hand - mostly because he's afraid of the machines, don't ask, and he recycles and reuses everything as if your life was depending on it. He truly cares about the environment and has tons and tons of documentaries about how we're all going to die. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that. He's bit of a bore that way.

Anyway, he lives alone. He keeps that flat very clean, and it's not to impress anyone or anything, he barely brings anyone home. But you could be the lucky one! So message him on his mobile number below, if you're looking for a date with someone who loves to scowl but really has a heart of gold, deep, deep, deep down inside. Don't email back to this post, he's not going to check it. If anything, he'll only log online and delete his profile, so sms is best!

Ta!

Harry couldn't help but smile to himself. He was now sure the only reason Hermione picked this one was probably because she wanted to be friends with this girl herself. She wouldn't care if Harry didn't hit it off with the bloke, as long as she could go shopping with his friend.

After he'd picked his three choices, he messaged Hermione. He told her he had his choices but he wanted to see the profiles online first. He didn't want her around, looking over his shoulder, while he made his decision.

"What do you mean make your decision? Don't you think you should go out with all three of them?"

"I'm not going on three dates, Hermione, get serious."

"Why…?" She looked like she wanted to say more but something about his look made her stop.

"I know you want to be alone with Ron. Why don't you go on a holiday—"

"We are going on a holiday but I want to make sure your dates are all set before—"

"What if I promise I won't sit alone at home while you guys are gone? What if I promise I'll make other plans."

She looked sceptically at him. "I want to believe you…"

"Then believe me!" he said laughing. I promise, I'll go on at least one date, and even try really hard for it to be a good one.

"So, who did you pick?"

"No," Harry said.

"No?" she asked, confused.

"I picked three, and I'm going to message them on the laptop, well, except one of them he's got a mobile number—"

"Malfoy."

Harry's eyes widened at the name. "What?" he asked, completely confused. Why, after all this time did Hermione just say that name?

"I should have known. I didn't even want to put it—"

"Hermione, what are you talking about?"

"The profile where a friend made a post on the man's behalf—" She hesitated for a moment and Harry nodded. "You see, I have seen all their photos and well—"

"Hermione, would you just spit it out already?" Was she going where he thought she was going… It couldn't be. Did he pick…?

"Malfoy. I'm pretty sure "Kin" is Parkinson, unless he has another friend posting for him but just the way she talked…it's her. And I saw the picture she posted…"

"Let me see the picture," demanded Harry.

Hermione reached for her own mobile and pulled up a picture from her gallery.

"Did you save it on your phone?" he asked, incredulous. "I saved it just in case it wasn't him and then I'd have to file a report with the Ministry a Muggle was pretending to be Draco—"

"Right…" he said, drawling. He took the mobile from her and looked at the picture on the screen. It was Draco Malfoy, all right. But it wasn't like the Malfoy Harry remembered. Well, for one, he was shirtless. There were faint scars on his chest, at which Harry internally cringed, but he looked relaxed. It looked like this was at a photoshoot. Malfoy didn't turn into a male model, did he? He certainly had the body for it. He was looking into the camera, but it seemed more like he was looking past the camera person's shoulder. His hands were in his dark blue, rustic, skinny jeans' pockets ripped at the knees, and he looked relaxed.

He looked pretty fucking sexy. He was cut in all the right ways, and looked as though he probably wasn't even trying for it. Harry was in decent shape himself, but he worked hard for it. He went jogging every morning, and when he was on active-duty, he was at the gym with other Aurors for the average amount of two hours every day. He needed to be fast and, well, physical exertion helped him take his mind off how much sex he was not getting.

Malfoy looked like he could pick 'em off at his own comfort.

"Why is he on a Muggles dating site?" he asked.

"Why are you?" she asked him. "You forget Malfoy lives in the Muggle world right now because of the restrictions on his magic. I've seen his file. He's allowed to use a bit of magic at home but his wand is on restricted use and he isn't allowed to do more than the mere simple spells we allow children at Hogwarts."

He's mastered the art of doing laundry by hand - mostly because he's afraid of the machines… Harry remembered.

"So what is this? All of a sudden I am going on a covert mission to find out if Malfoy's up to something?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes. "Do I have to go and report back to the Ministry if he's actually good in bed?" Harry shouldn't have been intrigued at the idea, but he couldn't ignore how his stomach did a flip at the thought. He didn't even know Malfoy was gay.

"Of course not! I don't expect you to go through with this—" Hermione stopped to look at Harry. "Do you still want to—?"

"What? Report his actions to the Ministry?"

"Forget the Ministry for a second," she said, shaking her head. "Malfoy is being forced to live in the Muggle world, otherwise, his privacy is being respected. No one watches his flat or where he works, or whatever. I can easily find out if this profile is fake or not and if it's real, I'll leave it alone. I won't interfere in his matters. So, I'm asking you, Harry… Do you want to answer this ad?"

He didn't know. Did he?

0-0-0-0-0

Harry sat on the bed in his room and stared at the picture on his mobile. Hermione had sent it to him via text message and now it was his turn to stare in the privacy of his own quarters. Should he write something? What would he say?

Would he just send Malfoy his own picture?

An hour later, Harry decided to do it. He sent Malfoy the message.

DRACO

Draco sifted through his messages, ignoring most of them, in reality, he wondered just how many pictures of random pricks he was going to get. He genuinely thought about turning the bloody thing off. But, he couldn't do it. He couldn't turn it off, in case there was an emergency.

Since he didn't have a Floo, and if his mother wished to contact him, she would send him a message via his mobile. It was a bit complicated because she didn't have any Muggle devices on her, so she'd have to Floo the department of Muggle-Wizard communications and then they would send a text message to Draco. It was still better than her showing up at his flat unannounced, though. This way, he'd at least have a twenty minute warning.

Draco, it's Mother. I'll be arriving at your home at two o'clock in the afternoon. This was a type of message she'd send him at ten in the morning, and by the time Draco would get the message, it'd be half one. Thank Merlin for the fact he was allowed to use magic inside his Muggle flat.

Therefore, due to this emergency set up, Draco only put his phone on vibrate. And any messages from the Ministry had a different vibration pattern than the rest of the messages. So he could ignore all of them until a specific vibration occurred.

When it did, Draco went to check his mobile, but, the message wasn't from a number he recognised.

Unknown Number: Malfoy, is it really you?
DM: Er. Yes?
Unknown Number: Care to confirm in more than 1.5 words? Why would Draco Malfoy be on an internet dating ad?
DM: Who is this?
Unknown Number: That's what I would like to know.
DM: Pansy, did you manage to get a Ministry appointed mobile phone? Stop fucking around.
Unknown Number: Try again. Not Parkinson.
DM: I give up. Last I checked, I'm being…
Draco paused for a brief second. "Forced" was too strong of a word so he needed to think of something better.
…I've been requested to live as a Muggle. Muggles are allowed to use the internet. My activity isn't illegal. And do not worry, whoever you are…

"Damn word count limit." Draco hit send on his message and continued typing.

…Rest assured once Pansy gives me the password to my profile, I will be taking it down.
Unknown Number: You don't have a password to your own account? That's rich. Are you sure it's not git1969.

Draco couldn't help but laugh. Whoever this Ministry official was, he was funny. Or she. Draco still had no clue.

DM: Now that we have established I am who I say I am. Who are you?
Unknown Number: You already know this is a Ministry appointed Mobile number. And you didn't think we'd be watching?

Draco takes a step back from his mobile, while still holding onto that bloody thing. What was this? Was he going to get in trouble for using the internet? He was going to kill Pansy. If he were going to get his limited magical privileges revoked, then, he was going to deserve it.

DM: It isn't fair you've been doing all the watching? Care to share something with me?
Unknown Number: What do you mean?
DM: You've seen mine, but I haven't seen anything of yours.
Unknown Number: One picture without a shirt isn't enough to entice me to show something of mine.
DM: So, would you like another?

The response took a while.

Unknown Number: As long as it isn't anything illegal.

Draco chuckled to himself. Finally, he relaxed a bit. Whoever this "Ministry representative" was — obviously was fucking with him. If it was someone on their break, deciding to have a bit of fun with him, then fun he or she was going to get.

He sat back on his sofa, folded his legs, and looked right at camera of his phone. It didn't take the best pictures. All his online profile photos Pansy had picked were the ones she'd taken with his fancy DSLR. But, this would have to do. He tilted his head, parted his lips, and pulled his lower lip down with his thumb. Then, click. He thanked the gods for having the first shot be a decent one and sent it to the Unknown Number.

DM: Here you go…

This time the response was a whole five minutes.

DM: You there? I'm fairly certain that isn't an illegal shot.
Unknown Number: No. It isn't.
DM: So are you sharing one of yours with me?
Unknown Number: I never agreed to that.
DM: It's only fair though.
Unknown Number: Didn't think Slytherin played fair.
DM: Yes, but wouldn't it just break your little Hufflepuff heart if you didn't comply?
Unknown Number: Not a Hufflepuff.
DM: Ravenclaw?
Unknown Number: Try again.
DM: Durmstrang? Here's wishful thinking…
Unknown Number: Wow, thanks. I'll let Krum know how highly you think of him.
DM: Viktor Krum is sex on legs, and he knows it. He may be in his thirties and taking a break from Quidditch but that doesn't mean he doesn't keep in shape. He's always featured on sports magazines covers.
Unknown Number: You keep up with all the wizarding sports mags, then?
DM: Only for the athletes. I'll drop down on my knees right now if you're one of them.
Unknown Number: I don't think Eastern European athletes carry British Ministry issued mobiles.
DM: And then you had to go and ruin it for me, didn't you? So go on then. Let's see what you've got.
Unknown Number: I'm pretty sure you'll block this number the second you see this…

The picture came through and Draco didn't want to believe it. This had to be a joke. It had to be. As the image became more clear on his tiny mobile screen, Draco saw a face he'd soon rather forget. His breath hitched when he saw an awkward looking, yet now more mature, Harry Potter. He was wearing a black collared shirt and a smug smile. Draco would know that smug look anywhere.

DM: It's not funny.
Unknown Number: I know, I'm terrible at taking pictures of myself.
DM: You expect me to believe Harry Potter is messaging me? Flirting with me?
Unknown Number: It is the truth.
DM: And what? You saw my personal ad? Because you're on the internet, in search of love?
Unknown Number: Who said anything about love.
DM: Have you literally gone through all the blokes on the website you messaged me?

Unknown Number now known as Harry Potter: I needed to be sure your identity wasn't stolen.
DM: Right. And how do I know you' are who you say you are?
Unknown Number now known as Harry Potter: Fine, here.

The message was attached to another picture which was Potter, once again, holding today's Daily Prophet. Draco supposed it was some sort of proof the person harassing him via text messages was indeed the last person on earth he wanted to interact with.

DM: You still read that shite?
Unknown Number now known as Harry Potter: Not really. It's Hermione's copy. It's the only thing I could think of grabbing since it proves I'm me.
DM: You live with Granger?

Draco asked as if he didn't know.

Unknown Number now known as Harry Potter: And Ron. But they're on holiday so I'm alone for the week.
DM: So you thought you'd harass members of the wizarding society that have been shunned away from the community. For fun.
Unknown Number now known as Harry Potter: I told you, I wanted to make sure if it was you.
DM: Or maybe you just wanted to get your cock sucked. See if I'd be willing.
Unknown Number now known as Harry Potter: Are you?
DM: Would you return the favour?
Unknown Number now known as Harry Potter: I ALWAYS return the favour.
DM: Very well then, tomorrow. My place.
Unknown Number now known as Harry Potter: What's the address?
DM: You work for the DMLE. You figure it out.
Unknown Number now known as Harry Potter: Seven o'clock?
DM: Whatever time you want, Potter. But I'm not cooking for you.
Unknown Number now known as Harry Potter: Not even your amazing eggs for breakfast? I do like scrambled, by the way.

Draco was going to kill Pansy.

PRESENT DAY

HARRY

"So, we're doing this?" Harry ignored how his heart was pounding and how his stomach churned. He'd done this, he'd messaged Malfoy, semi-flirted with him via messages, and then gone into the Ministry files to find his Muggle address.

And now here he was. He was quite certain when he was messaging with Malfoy it was him. He should have stopped when he'd received the confirmation, and now, it was too late. Well, it didn't have to be too late. If Malfoy didn't want to have sex with him, he was going to turn around and just leave. There wasn't much to it.

But was he? Was he going to have sex with Malfoy?

Malfoy hadn't answered him. He'd turned around and headed into his flat and Harry figured he was to follow him. So he did. He closed the door behind him and then looked around.

"Drink?" Malfoy asked from another room and Harry mumbled a sure. Malfoy's flat was small. But it wasn't cluttered. It looked like everything had its own place and it all just fit together.

There were two small sofas facing each other and telly on one corner and the drinks cabinet on another. It made Harry wonder if he entertained a lot. He came out of whatever room he was in, Harry deduced it to be the kitchen, as he was holding two small crystal glasses with ice in them. He didn't give Harry a second look as he poured them both a drink.

There was some art on the wall, usual home decoration stuff, and also some illustrations Harry recognised. He owned similar designs which adorned his cubicle at work. The artistic creations of one Teddy Lupin.

"I liked when he was going through his fruit phase…" Harry said pointing at an almost exact replica he had mounted near the fridge in his own kitchen.

Malfoy looked like he didn't want to talk about that so Harry immediately changed the subject. "I like your flat. It's very organised."

Malfoy chuckled. "My mother likes to drop in from time to time so I try to keep it clean. Otherwise, she'll have her house-elves poking and prodding into my business and well…I'd rather not have that."

"She'd send you house-elves?"

"Don't worry, Potter. We pay them."

"No, that's fine. I wasn't worried about that—"

"Here's your drink." Malfoy thrust a glass in Harry's hand and sat on the sofa across from him. Harry followed suit and sat down himself. They stared at each other for a long time as they sipped on their drink.

Scotch. Muggle.

They sat in silence for a while. Surprisingly, Malfoy didn't look uncomfortable. Maybe he was faking it. Harry wouldn't have been shocked. Eventually, Harry decided enough was enough. He took out the phial from his pocket and placed it in front of him on the tiny coffee table.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry.

DRACO

So this was his life now. Three days ago, Pansy had signed him up on a dating website. Then his phone had buzzed nonstop, and he'd found out he'd been involuntarily flirting with Potter.

And now Potter was sitting across from him.

"What's this?" Draco asked, eyeing the small phial Potter had put on the coffee table. Then, he'd taken out another and placed it right next to the first one.

"Prophylactic potion," Potter replied and Draco's heart sped up just two more beats per second. Preventative measures for sexual intercourse.

"Condoms too Muggle for you?" asked Draco.

Potter chuckled low, and was that just as sexy as Draco had thought it was or was the scotch already hitting him?

"This can last up to twenty-four hours. Condoms can be…messy."

Evidently, Potter had answered his own question. They were doing this. He looked at Draco as if challenging him. Draco wanted to know what was going through Potter's mind right now. How in the hell did he think this was a good idea.

A good idea?

This was the worst idea of all time.

Forgetting making a Muggle fall in love with Draco. If Draco shagged Potter, there'd be no end to the misery the Ministry would put him under. Maybe they'd take his job away, and Draco liked his job, thank you very much.

But…the idea of pushing Potter back against the sofa, unbuttoning his jeans, and rubbing the head of his cock against Potter's lips was tempting. The idea stirred in him something fierce.

Without thinking twice, he leaned across the table, grabbed one the phials and drank its contents in one go. It was a bit sour and it reminded him of a peach Lambic. He wondered if the potion was brewed with caramel or molasses.

"Where did you get this?" He placed the empty phial down on the table and looked at Potter who was watching him intently. Potter licked his lips and drank his potion.

"Luna brews them and sells it out of her shop."

"Right…" Draco said and stood up. "Did you want a tour?" He waited until Potter gulped his scotch down and stood up, as well. "You looked like you wanted a tour. I have more of Teddy's art in—"

"Yeah, brilliant." Potter sounded impatient, looked fidgety, his gaze went everywhere but on Draco.

"Very well then." Draco turned around and started the five sickle tour. His flat was very small, and that was okay, he didn't need much. Not anymore. After the war, and before the Trials, he'd basically lived in his room at the Manor, refusing to leave. He'd practically thrown everything out and only kept his bed because he wanted something comfortable to sleep on. He'd thought he was going to go to Azkaban, after all. Then, when Potter had testified, for his family, Draco had managed to escape prison for life.

And then he was assigned to the Muggle world. Seemingly for forever.

"This is the dining room." Draco was very matter-of-fact about everything and he was positive Potter was only interested in one room and one room only. Still, he'd stood very close to Draco in the dining room looking at his pictures on the wall, and then the small vase in the middle of the table.

"It's nice," he said in a low, husky voice making Draco want to grab Potter's face and make him look at Draco. And even kiss him, but Draco remained stoic. All in good time.

"This way…" Draco said, leading Potter to the bedroom. There wasn't much to show, he was sure Potter would see the loo when he needed to use it. "The window is small but when the weather is nice…" Draco paused to look at Potter and then pointed at the window, it was all fogged up because of the chilly December weather, but his heating charms didn't allow the cold to enter the room. "It's a brilliant view of the street."

"Can people look in? If you're able to look out?" Potter asked. Suddenly he was very close to Draco, his body almost pressing against Draco's and the hair on the back of Draco's neck stood up. With arousal or simply the heat of Potter's body, Draco didn't know.

"I… No, they can't…"

Potter cupped the back of Draco's neck while Draco's back was still facing Potter, and then he threaded his fingers through Draco's hair. "That's good, I suppose, unless you're into voyeuristic neighbours…"

His other arm snaked around Draco's waist and then slowly turned him. They stared at each for a while, again, no one speaking but Draco was now chest-to-chest with Potter, and he could feel Potter's heartbeat. Better yet, he could feel Potter's erection pressing against his leg.

"Can I kiss you?" Potter asked, his eyes set on Draco's lips.

Draco nodded and they met each other halfway, lips almost glued together while Potter tried to bite and nibble on Draco's lower lip. Draco moaned, parting his mouth and Potter slid his tongue in. It was quite impressive, actually, after the initial question asking for a kiss, Potter didn't hesitate and didn't stop himself.

Potter's hand had stayed in Draco's hair while the other was firmly planted on Draco's hip. He pressed himself against Draco, causing Draco to take a step back and rest against the wall. All Draco wanted to do was grab Potter's arse and pull him closer but he refrained. His hands were on Potter's shoulders, squeezing tight, as Potter claimed Draco's mouth like that's all he'd been thinking about for days.

When Potter let go of Draco's mouth and latched onto the left side of his neck, Draco moaned. His hands started to explore Potter's body of their own accord. He pulled Potter's shirt free from his trousers and he moaned again when he felt Potter's tight muscles, his incredibly fit body, under his fingertips.

"Come here," Draco said, first pushing Potter off him and then dragging him to his bed. He all but fell on the mattress as Potter landed on top of him. Fully clothed, they continued to rub against each other, snogging like a couple of teenagers, like it was going out of style.

At first, Draco tried to pull Potter's shirt off him but Potter didn't let him. Then, he tried to pinch Potter's nipples and Potter grabbed Draco's wrists and pinned his hands above Draco's head, continuing to kiss him, and continuing to rub their groins together — still fully clothed.

"Fuck, Potter. What do I have to do for you to fuck me?" Draco groaned and Potter looked down at him, surprised. His eyes were wide, almost dark, and his lips swollen. He looked like a fucking mess, and absolutely gorgeous. Draco wanted that mouth around him. And he wanted it now.

"You want me to fuck you?" Potter asked and Draco wanted to roll his eyes.

"You could start by sucking me off. Hell, you could start just by getting naked for Merlin's sake."

"You're not enjoying this?" He didn't exactly sound disappointed but his voice did shake a little.

"It's fine, but it's not like— I mean, this is a one-off, right? So let's get off."

"Right. Okay." Potter settled himself on his haunches and began taking his shirt off. Draco did the same. When Draco reached for the belt on his jeans, Potter grabbed his wrists again. "Let me."

He took his sweet fucking time removing Draco's jeans and pants and when he freed Draco's cock it bounced up and rested against his stomach. He started to lean down to grab Draco's cock when Draco stopped him.

"Wait."

"What now?" Potter snapped.

"Take off your trousers, too. Get completely naked."

Potter groaned in frustration but did as he was told. "Now? Is it okay now if I suck your cock, Malfoy?"

"Well then. Get to it."

Draco's eyes closed as his back arched when Potter took him into his mouth. He groaned while Potter's tongue licked the head of his cock and he was ashamed of himself at the types of noises he was making. This wasn't Draco. He was usually composed, well put together, especially in front of a wizard and this was Harry bloody Potter, Draco could not be losing his shit all over because of bloody Potter. Potter hooked his arms around Draco's thighs and lifted them, eventually causing or perhaps forcing Draco to link his legs around his neck as he took Draco in deep. The man had no gag reflex and Draco would have had more time to think about it, dwell on the idea, if Potter hadn't been so bloody good at giving head.

"Merlin…" and "oh, fuck…" was all the warning Draco could give before he came and Potter swallowed him whole. He didn't move, or seemingly hesitate before taking all of Draco down his throat. This made Draco wonder how Potter would be about taking Draco in him. If he'd not been so spent, and so bloody fast, Draco would have proposed the idea, but he knew what he had to do right now.

He needed to taste Potter.

It wasn't just so that he needed to return the favour but there was just something about him. Draco wanted to be there, to take Potter the way he'd taken Draco, to taste Potter. Savour him up and down and perhaps push in a finger or two to see how Potter would react to it. It wasn't like Draco to ask the bloke if he was a bottom or a top — he didn't believe in labels but he also didn't like to make things awkward. He liked to see where his evenings took him.

It was one of the best things about being so versatile.

"Merlin, that was…" was all Potter said before Draco all but tackled him. They were totally physically different from each other. Draco was tall and slender with little to no muscle on him. He didn't exercise. Unless you counted him going up and down the stairs at his job searching for a book or another; and Potter, of course, was an Auror… his body was cut at all the right angles. Still, it didn't mean Draco couldn't take him. So he did. He switched them around without a second thought and when Potter's back hit the comfortable mattress, Draco slid down to be eye-level with his cock.

"My turn," Draco said.

"Oh, okay. If that's what you…"

"I can return the favour, Potter. It's the least I can do."

"Right. Yeah… Good," Potter said, looking winded.

"Don't like being bottom?" Draco teased.

"Oh, it's not that. I like it. A lot. Just… you surprise me, is all."

"How's that?" Draco asked, breathing just over Potter's cock, feeling it twitch, and then stroking it slowly with his hand while rubbing Potter's balls with another. "Don't easily come across willing fans?"

"Oh… dear…" Potter gasped. "Just fucking do it, please," Potter begged. And Draco couldn't deny him the luxury. He couldn't deny himself the luxury of sucking Potter off. Of licking, and tasting, and even better, giving into the desire of having Potter in his mouth.

The man was gasping, and begging, and Draco realised — he never really did shut up. Potter was a screamer, and if he was like this while only getting a blow job — how would he be when getting fucked?

Potter lifted his hips as Draco took him in deep and he took the opportunity to press the flat of his index finger against Potter's hole. Potter, incredibly, moaned. He pushed against Draco's finger as if asking for more and Draco was conscious of his un-lubed finger. Still, he teased Potter who squirmed beneath him and it was so glorious in so many ways.

"I'm close…" Potter warned and Draco got off him. He helped Potter finish with his hand and he couldn't say it for certain, but he felt tension build into Potter's body while came all over Draco's hand and his stomach.

Draco wished he had the time to psychoanalyse Potter's reaction but he was far too gone. He'd not expected this session to be so intense and as he spelled the mess over his and Potter's body clean, he collapsed next to Potter and closed his eyes.

He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep but the fact that Potter's warm body was pressed against his was an unexpected comfort.

HARRY

Harry woke up in the middle of the night, freezing. He still had his glasses on. Why did I sleep with my— He paused when he remembered. He was still at Malfoy's flat, in Malfoy's bed, with Malfoy sleeping next to him.

He'd gotten completely naked, performed and had been performed on, oral sex, and had managed to keep his glasses on the entire time. He knew he needed to invest in contacts, but just couldn't get himself to do it.

What should I do now? Should he stay a while longer, hoping for a repeat? Or should he get up and just go. It was bloody freezing in Malfoy's bedroom as Malfoy was clearly hogging all the blanket and hadn't shared any with Harry.

Eventually, he slipped out of bed and made his way to the toilet. After relieving himself, washing his face, and rinsing out his mouth with Malfoy's toothpaste, he decided to go back to bed. Sure, this was going to be a one-off, probably, but it would be rude to just leave. Maybe he could take Malfoy out for breakfast in the morning. It'd be a decent thing to do.

Harry wasn't familiar with this part of the Muggle neighbourhood and perhaps Malfoy could show him around.

When he returned to the bedroom, Malfoy had turned his sleeping position and with the unsteady way his chest was rising and falling, Harry was sure he was awake. Harry made his way to the side of the bed where he'd been sleeping and got under the covers.

"All right if I stay until the morning?" he asked.

"Fine," Malfoy replied. It wasn't exactly cold but it was far from warm and inviting.

Harry didn't care. He wasn't going to take whatever Malfoy was doing to heart. Malfoy had always pushed him away. He'd always pushed everyone away after the Trials. He edged himself closer and placed his hands on Malfoy's skin.

Malfoy immediately shuddered. "Fuck, your hands are cold, Potter."

"Then warm me up, Malfoy," replied Harry, and firmed his hold on Malfoy. A few seconds later, Malfoy gave in, and pulled Harry on top of him. This time, Harry removed his glasses and threw them in the general direction of the bedside table.

They started with soft kisses, which surprised Harry. Malfoy had been distant since the moment he'd arrived but his kissing had always been so bloody tender. It was enough to confuse Harry easily, so he tried not to look for a deeper meaning. He was starting to get warm, and his cock brushed against Malfoy's erection and they both moaned in each other's mouths.

"Why are you so good at this?" Malfoy gasped when Harry's mouth latched onto his throat and he started to kiss, bite, and suck at his sweet skin.

Harry ground their hips together. "I'm not doing anything special," he said, and they switched positions as Malfoy pinned Harry on the mattress and frantically started to hump him into it.

"Must be…" Malfoy gasped, wrapping his hand around both their erections, "…just been that long for me."

"Way to make a man feel special, Malfoy," Harry said and he grabbed Malfoy's arse with both his hands to add more friction. "Fuck, I want you to come inside me."

"You do?" Malfoy asked, sounding confounded. "Right now?"

"I'd reckon so, given you'll probably kick me out first thing in the morning."

"Oh, right," Malfoy said, his mouth pressed against Harry's shoulder. Was that disappointment he heard in Malfoy's voice or it was just him projecting? "I need my wand…"

"What, no lube?" Harry teased.

"I use my own lubrication spell, it's one of the few things I'm allowed…"

"I don't—"

"Not the time, Potter," Malfoy said and he was gone and back in less than thirty seconds. He mumbled something and then Harry felt two slicked fingers pressing against his hole. He tried to relax but just like Malfoy had said, it'd been a while for him too.

Malfoy was careful with him. He seemed impatient, and Harry didn't want to blame him, Harry was impatient, too, but it genuinely felt like he was trying to take his time. By the time he had his cock lined up against Harry's hole, Harry was relieved. Any more anticipation and he would have burst.

Malfoy slid in easily, as if he was made to do this. His cock was made to fuck Harry. It was a stupid notion, of course, but Harry knew when it felt good, and it felt good.

Harry's hands reached up to grab the headboard as Draco started to pound into him. It was too bad it was so dark in the room because Harry would have given anything to watch Malfoy. To watch Malfoy's face — fucking him.

He didn't know how long they moved together for, but he knew he wasn't coming before Malfoy. If he was lucky, Malfoy would get him off with his mouth again because as good as being royally fucked by Draco Malfoy felt, Harry had loved it when Malfoy had teased his hole while sucking him off.

It was a thought he could easily have got used to.

But the thought they might never do this again was sobering him up.

"Oh, Mer—" Malfoy groaned, grabbing the back of Harry's legs and pushing them up to rest on his shoulders. "You're so fucking tight. I'm trying not to lose it but—"

"Fuck me harder," Harry said, "don't stop until you're coming inside me."

"Not a proble—" Malfoy moaned again and Harry felt hot liquid sputter inside him, and it felt like it went on for days. Malfoy's sheets weren't going to get clean by one simple spell. He'll need to change them before he went to bed. Probably later tonight after Harry was gone.

"You're not…" Malfoy said when he came to, looking down at Harry's erection while Harry's hands were still holding on to the headboard. "Do you want me to…"

"What do you want?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse. "Want to watch me touch myself or, wanna suck me off again?"

"It's one or the other?" Malfoy said. And then without a word, he leaned down on the mattress, half hanging off the bed as he took Harry again in his mouth for the second time.

DRACO

Draco wanted to get out of bed. But, he didn't know what to do. Usually, he was quick to leave, but this was different. This time, he was in his own flat. And the man sleeping next to him was Harry Potter.

If he got up, what would he do? Would he take a shower? What if Potter awoke and took that as some sort of an invitation. And what if he got up and made breakfast?

That would certainly be invitation for Potter to stay and Draco didn't want that. He didn't want Potter to stay. This was a one-off. They hadn't discussed it but it was obvious from Potter's online profile and Draco's. They weren't interested in any more than that. Which was, of course, more than alright with him. Draco wasn't going to start a fucking relationship with Harry Sodding Potter. Auror extraordinaire. The Golden Boy.

Fuck that.

Therefore, Draco decided to do the next best thing. He nudged Potter with his elbow.

"Care to wake up soon?"

"Ready for another go?" Potter mumbled, half-asleep, eyes still closed.

Fuck Draco for thinking that was a nice thought.

"No, just…I've got a few things to do today…"

"Oh, right," Potter said, as if waking up completely in a matter of seconds. "Naturally. Let me get out of your way."

"No rush," Draco said and turned away from Potter as he bit his lower lip. No rush? No fucking rush? "I mean, I'll be in the shower, reckon you'd find your way out—"

"Yeah, I got it, Malfoy. I'm sure you know how to deal with these sorts of things…"

"What sorts of things?" Draco asked, turning around, still in bed, still under the covers naked next to a naked Potter.

"I'm sure you have loads of one-offs." Draco wasn't sure but he thought he heard Potter scoff.

"No, I don't," Draco replied before he could think better of it. Why was he even bothering replying to Potter who pretended to be all hurt by this. Last night it was all "don't stop until you're coming inside me," and now Potter had the audacity to be so angry with him? For what? It was a one-off. Even if Draco didn't do those, because, he didn't shag around.

"It's fine; I have to go anyway," Potter said, getting out of bed. Draco stared at his naked arse for a second, the arse that'd been his mere hours before, and the memory of it made Draco's cock stir.

No. This is not happening. It's over. What do you think is going to happen, anyway? This is Harry sodding Potter, who is an Auror, works for the British Ministry and they probably sent him to spy on you.

Right.

Draco turned away one again in search for his pants and put them on and went to the loo. He slammed the door behind him, and hopefully, slammed the door on Potter who he'd never have to see again.

He looked in the mirror for a long time, his lower lip was swollen and there were a few bite marks on his neck — damn that Potter was a needy one —

No.

He shook his head, charmed his scars away, washed his face and brushed his teeth. He didn't have a lot going on, if anything, he was going to read through the Prophets, look at the schedule he had to create for work, and have a relaxing few days.

Thankfully, the library was closed for the holiday and Draco didn't have any other plans but Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with his parents.

HARRY

This. Was. Not. Happening.

Harry pushed the door to the building but it didn't budge. It also didn't help he couldn't see outside. The falling snow was thick and it was so cold in the hallway, his glasses were fogging up. Harry tried to spell the door open, but that didn't work either. When he tried to spell some heat in the hallway he was standing in, it didn't work. His magic wasn't working.

He tried Apparition. No luck.

So now, he was stuck in this cold hallway, unable to use magic, if only those who called him Boy Wonder could see… What the fuck was happening, and what the fuck was he going to do?

Trying his best to remember, all Harry could come up with was the excuse the Ministry had put on very strict regulations on Malfoy and his residence. Was his building magic-free? The use of magic was only confined to his flat? If Harry went back in there, would he be able to Apparate?

He had to find out. It wasn't like he could just stand in this cold hallway and do nothing.

He took in a deep sigh, fixed his clothes, because, yeah, it's not like he's not seen you naked, Harry. And went back to knock on the Malfoy's door.

Fuck my life, he thought, because Malfoy had managed to fuck every other part of him for sure.

When Malfoy opened the door, he eyed Harry warily. "Forget something?"

"I can't Apparate."

"Did you use the front door?"

Harry scowled at him, annoyed, how had Malfoy manage to take a shower and look so fucking put together in the span of what? ten minutes?

"There was a blizzard overnight. The door's jammed. And with the look of this old building, I would think the caretaker doesn't live on the premises. I'd wager nothing can be done about it until the city workers are out here ploughing the snow. And that probably won't happen until it stops snowing."

"Fuck, you're right…" Malfoy said, looking worried. "Let me try." He brushed past Harry and down the hall to try the main door.

"I don't think you're stronger than me, genius."

But Malfoy wasn't listening. He was pushing, and kicking, and swearing…everything Harry had already tried. "Fuck my life."

"Yeah, that's what I said."

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something but there was a familiar chime coming from his flat. He looked towards his door and then ran into his flat. Harry followed him because where else was he going to go?

He was tired, thirsty, his arse was fucking hurting, and he was stuck in a magically-confined building with Draco fucking Malfoy.

When he entered Malfoy's flat, Malfoy was reading messages from his mobile.

"The Ministry regrets to inform you due to the impending snow storm in the most of Muggle London and surrounding boroughs, magical transportation has been restricted. All Ministry employees scheduled to work will be able to use their normal form of travel however all wizards living in the Muggle-world will be further restricted from use of magic. We expect the delay to last forty-eight hours at most. When it's deemed safe to use magic again, we will remove the restriction from the Muggle homes. Stay safe. B.F.T., Minister of Magic."

When Harry's mobile chimed, Malfoy turned to look at him.

"All Ministry officials on holiday, please be advised all forms of magical transportation are now restricted in the Muggle world. This ban will last for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. There's no need to worry. Have a wonderful holiday!"

"I reckon the trains are probably also cancelled, and they'll have buses running through the slush at snail's pace."

"All that…" Harry said thoughtfully, "depends on if I could actually get the bloody front door to unjam. Which I can't, because—"

"You can't use magic in this building."

"Yep. I figured that one out on my own, thanks."

"So you're stuck here." Malfoy looked so uncomfortable, Harry wished he could Apparate, or break a hole in his wall and leave. But then, Malfoy would be stuck in his flat with a hole in the wall and it's a bloody blizzard out there.

"Wait, you can use magic in the flat, though?" Harry asked.

"Yeah…"

"So that gives us two options."

"What are those?"

"One, I could use an extension charm, make myself a separate room with a bed or a sofa or whatever and just stay there so I'll be out of your way. Or… I could break a hole a wall here…" Harry pointed at the wall, "and leave. And you can mend the wall behind me."

"I can't use extension charms," Malfoy said with a bitter note. "If I could, do you really think I'd live in a shoebox?"

"This place isn't so—"

"I am allowed to use magic in my own flat. But limited magic. Like Scourgify to clean my own fucking come, or heat the water for a longer bath when the hot water runs out…"

"That's bloody—"

"I'm not even allowed owls, Potter. OWLS. My mother, my friends have to Floo a message to me to the Ministry, and then they read the message and send it to me via mobile."

"I… I had no idea."

"Of course, you didn't. But you know what? It's okay. Everything is perfectly fine because this isn't fucking Azkaban."

Harry wanted to agree Azkaban was probably loads worse but he didn't. It didn't seem like the right thing to say.

DRACO

Everything was not fucking fine. Everything was a fucking disaster. Why was Potter still there? Of course, Draco knew why logically, but his mind couldn't stop thinking: whhhyyyyyyy. Illogically.

"Have you started on breakfast?" Potter asked Draco, giving him a start, as Draco was only staring down at the stove.

"Not yet. Any requests?" Draco sneered.

"I can help you, if you'd like. Or even make breakfast. It'd make me feel useful."

"Why don't you just go to the sitting room and watch telly or something?" Draco asked, opening the refrigerator to get bread, eggs, and vegetables to start cooking. He'd worry about the bacon and sausages in a few minutes.

"Honestly, Malfoy…" Potter placed a hand on the small of Draco's back and Draco squirmed away. "Wow. Okay…" Potter said in reaction, raising his hands in surrender. "No touching, got it."

"Why do you want to touch me? I've got an open flame over here," Draco said, not looking at Potter but he knew Potter was still standing there, looking at him. He sighed with resignation and handed Potter the vegetables to chop. "Cut them very fine."

"Can I use magic?" Potter said in a teasing tone.

"Do whatever the fuck you please," Draco said and added some distance between himself and Potter.

He didn't know why he flinched in such a way. Potter wasn't being intrusive. His touch felt nice, and it was going to be very hard not to be in each other's space being stuck in his small flat. Funny, how it didn't feel small at all until Potter had joined him.

They worked in silence. Draco tried to steal glances at Potter and every time he looked in Potter's direction Potter was looking at him and then gave him a goofy grin. Draco only wanted to groan. Eventually, he stopped looking and started to fully ignore Potter. That was the best way to deal with this situation.

Once breakfast was cooked, Draco poured them both coffee. "I like mine black," he said.

"That's fine. But do you have any sugar?"

"I might…" Draco made a show of looking knowing fully well where he kept his sugar. Pansy liked her coffee sweet, as well.

Potter thanked him with a nod and they ate in silence, as well. Draco didn't have a Muggle dishwasher, and most of the time, he spelled his dishes clean. There were times when he enjoyed listening to music and the task of washing the dishes was almost therapeutic, but this was not one of those days.

"Can I wash the dishes for you?" Potter asked, as if he'd been reading Draco's mind.

"Are you going to use magic?"

"No," Potter said cautiously, as if gauging Draco's reaction. "It'll keep me busy, otherwise I'll just be in your space. Maybe you can take a shower while I do the dishes and if you don't mind, after that, I can shower."

"We should probably conserve water given we're stuck here in a natural disaster."

"It's just a blizzard, Malfoy."

"Fine, suit yourself," Draco said getting up from the dining table where he was seated across from Potter.

"Wait…" Potter grabbed Draco's wrist to stop him from walking away. "What did you have in mind?"

Gods, it really has been long since I've had good sex. I'm losing my fucking mind.

"We can save the water by cleaning the dishes with a spell. We have to consider lunch and dinner, as well, and perhaps we can save more water by…" He paused, unsure if he should've continued.

"Showering together?" Potter asked, his voice perking up.

"It's a thought," Draco said softly, suddenly feeling shy when it wasn't the privacy of his bedroom, and it wasn't dark, and he wasn't hiding in the blankets with Potter — hiding from the world. Discussing sex with Potter at his dining room table seemed too exposed for some reason.

"It's a good one. Didn't think you'd be one to come up with good ideas, Malfoy."

"Please," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "All my ideas are good ideas."

"Right. But…" Potter seemed to hesitate and Draco's heart started to beat faster. He'd gone and done it, hadn't he? He was about to get rejected—

"I'm still a bit sore from last night so can we do other stuff in the shower?"

"Other stuff?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

Potter grinned at him and collected all the dishes. "We'll improvise. Go ahead, I'll join you in a few."

Draco turned around slowly and helped bring the dishes to the kitchen, then he placed all the used pans and utensils while Potter mumbled a cleaning spell. He didn't want to rush into the bathroom; he didn't want Potter to think he was eager for it. Or that he'd be eagerly waiting. Just because he'd agreed to a repeat — or maybe it was his idea to begin with — didn't mean Potter was going to call the shots.

He was most certainly not.

HARRY

Normally, Harry relied on a charmed loofah to rub his back, but this morning, he had Malfoy. Harry had to admit he was astonished when Malfoy had offered a shower. A shower together. He was certain he was done for. He'd pissed Malfoy off by not leaving, and then helping him with breakfast, but the actual breakfast was more than all right.

They hadn't talked much but Harry had felt at ease. He'd not had breakfast with a bloke — the morning after — in a long time and it wasn't all that awkward. They didn't really talk about anything and Harry figured it was probably because Malfoy didn't want to share. And what was Harry going to share? His job? Surely, Malfoy wasn't interested in what Aurors did, and Harry wasn't going to say how he was always the third wheel with his friends.

But now…? When Malfoy was rubbing his back, lathering him all up, and his fingers lingering on his skin longer than they needed to, Harry felt as though no words were needed between them. How was it Harry was managing to have some of his best sex with someone who had hated him growing up. And there had been times when Harry had hated Malfoy all the same.

"D'you always think this much in the shower?"

Harry turned around, glad for the hot water pouring on his back, and leaned in to kiss Malfoy. Once again, perplexed, Malfoy was letting him. "No, not always. But you know, this is something weird, and different, and makes you wonder…"

"Wonder what?" Malfoy asked with a guarded expression.

"Why'd I always taken showers alone?" Harry teased and he saw Malfoy visibly relax.

Then, Malfoy was on him again, and this time, he wasn't going to ask any questions and Harry wasn't going to offer any more conversation. They rubbed each other raw as they scrubbed each other clean, and as Malfoy came in Harry's mouth, whispering Oh gods, and fuck Merlins… Harry decided he needed to stop thinking.

0-0-0-0-0

They towel-dried in silence. Again. This time it was slightly more awkward.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you what you already know," Harry said, to break the tension between them.

"What's that?" Malfoy asked, wrapping the towel around his waist and walking into his bedroom. Harry followed.

"This doesn't have to mean anything. I mean, last night, yeah that was… something else but I'm stuck here. I don't want you to think I'm going to start demanding or I'm delusional or…"

"I wasn't under any assumption you were going to think we were boyfriends now, Potter. Relax." Malfoy went through his cupboard and threw a pair of trousers and a shirt at Potter.

"I am relaxed," Harry said, "What's this?"

"Clothes," Malfoy said, shaking his head. "Unless you wish to continue wearing your clothes from yesterday—"

"Oh, thanks," Harry said, dumbfounded.

"Regardless of what you might think, Potter, I'm not a bad host. No matter the circumstances, you are, as of right now, a guest in my home. So I supposed giving you a pair of clean trousers was my duty. I'm not giving you my underwear."

"This'll be fine," Harry said, almost chuckling. He put on the trousers Malfoy gave him and they were slightly big for his size but the material was very soft and they felt more like pyjamas than trousers. He had a feeling Malfoy was being considerate to ensure Harry was comfortable. "It's nice," he added after putting on the shirt which was equally soft and comfortable, if a bit snug. He was sure he looked ridiculous wearing a dark blue snug cotton shirt and very loose and baggy trousers. Good thing magical transportation was blocked at the moment, anyone who came to see Malfoy would only laugh at Harry.

Hopefully, none of his Muggle neighbours would stop by.

"I can wash your clothes with the rest of my laundry—"

"You don't have to."

Malfoy paused to look at Harry and raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, do whatever. It's just, I feel bad, is all."

"Why?" Malfoy asked, sounding annoyed.

"The ad said you wash clothes by hand because you're afraid of the wash—"

"Oh, I'm going to kill Pansy," Malfoy said, frustrated. "One time, I was startled by the machines, when I first moved to the Muggle world. It's like this joke will never get old for her. I know how to use the Muggle washer and dryer, Potter. Don't worry. As much as I enjoy using magic at home, I do utilise the technology Muggles have to offer."

Without waiting for a reply, Malfoy took Harry's towel, and returned to the bathroom to collect Harry's clothes.

Harry didn't know what else to do so he went back to the sitting room.

It was unbelievable how things were turning from hot to cold. When he and Malfoy had sex, it was like Malfoy was a totally different person. But when they were doing normal things — such as making breakfast or discussing laundry — for fuck's sake — Malfoy was cold and distant and treated Harry like he was an idiot.

Maybe the trouble is you haven't seen him in years and you're immediately domestic.

Deciding to stay out of the way, Harry settled on the sofa. He looked under the coffee table for a book, nonplussed to find a stack of Daily Prophets. He wanted to laugh, and when Malfoy walked into the room, he noticed Harry's amusement.

"What is it now?"

"Didn't think you read this shite," Harry said, holding up the Prophet.

Malfoy cringed. "I did say that, didn't I?" His ears were turning red, and Harry found that to be rather charming. Clearly, he'd lost all brain cells.

"No judgement. I only get it for the sports section."

"My copies are usually a week old because Pansy brings them over. Since I can't…" He trailed off, looking frustrated.

"Sorry I keep reminding you about how you can't use magic. My existence has always been a bit of an inconvenience for you."

Malfoy looked like he wanted to smack Harry but instead he plopped down on the sofa across from him. "So find anything interesting to read?"

"Not yet. Any recommendations?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I read every day. I've been going through Muggle classics one after another; it's a good thing there doesn't seem to be an end in sight."

"End for what?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I don't know, my exile. Muggle literature. Translated or otherwise. Some books I can bring home, if they're not in English and use the translating spell to read—"

"What do you actually do? I know you have a Muggle job the Ministry Liaison helped you get but…I never looked into what it is…" That was part of the truth. After the Trials, Harry had been curious but if he needed to find out, he needed to make an appointment to check the logs. Or ask one of his friends. And for that, he needed a reason. A reason to why he wanted to know.

And he didn't know why he wanted to know. He was just curious, that's all. Evidently so curious—nearly ten years later, when the opportunity to spend time with Malfoy arose, Harry hadn't even blinked twice about it.

Yeah, he was going to file that for later. No need to worry about why he wanted to see Malfoy. Best not to psychoanalyse the situation in his presence.

"I work at a small library near Queensbury. I started out as a part time Assistant and now I do all sorts of stuff. And open the library in the mornings every other weekend. Right now, we're closed for the holidays."

That was that. He didn't offer anymore.

"Is that what you've been doing all this time?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No. I started out in a bookshop at first. Putting stacks of books away, and all that, the Manager was half-blood. But after he left, and everyone seemed to be thinking I could do more, try tried to put me on the till. I failed miserably."

"Why?" Harry asked, baffled. Malfoy was a smart bloke. He would have picked up the Muggle ways in no time. Especially if he was living in the Muggle world, too.

"They wanted me to talk to the customers. I mean, it was one thing to pretend to be one of them but when they started talking to me about their lives, and schooling, and A-levels, I had no clue."

"So you asked to be switched?"

"No. Not exactly. I actually got sacked because they didn't like my attitude."

"Ah," said Harry.

"What? What'd you mean ah?"

Harry laughed. "The classic Malfoy move. You'd rather look rude, and reserved, and detached, than show weakness."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, almost in challenge.

"So tell me about the library. How'd you like this job? I reckon you like books. It's not much different from a shop."

"No, it is, and it isn't. There's no small talk in the library. Which is perfect, really. I used to mostly just put books away day in and day out, and then I started to learn the computer system. I was shit at it, at first. Didn't know how to type and didn't understand why the keyboard had all the letters so out of order. Now I'm just… there."

"What would you do if you could go back? What if tomorrow, you had the freedom to live in the wizarding world again. What job would you have? Or would you simply retire? Or travel?"

"What is this twenty questions? I don't have to answer you anything, Potter."

"What else are we going to do then? Pretend the other person isn't here until what? It's time to eat or have sex?"

"Nothing wrong with that," replied Malfoy. "Might as well make use of the time."

"How many men have you fucked?" Harry asked with a smile and crossed his arms. He relaxed into the sofa, suddenly just curious about Malfoy. Malfoy wanted to know everything about him.

"How many have you?" Malfoy retorted.

"I'll answer. I don't have anything to hide. Eight."

"Eight? Fucked fucked or just…fooled around with?" Malfoy asked.

Harry shrugged. "Total number's eight. I'm not much for a meet you in the toilets at a club kind of person. I tried it. Wasn't for me."

Malfoy nodded thoughtfully. "Why only eight, still? Are you one of those long-term relationship people?"

Harry threw his head back and laughed. "Hardly. I dated a few Muggles, here and there, over the last few years. But, I could never be honest with them. Couldn't tell them what I did for work and what if I was undercover or on a mission…couldn't call them. And with wizards, well, it's hard being me. Doesn't always attract the most genuine of people."

They were quiet again and then Malfoy summoned a jar of water and two glasses. He poured water for Harry and then for himself. He sipped quietly.

"So are you going to answer my question?"

"Twelve. Mostly Muggles."

"Fuck or…?"

"Fucked. The other stuff, with the alleys, and the toilets… I don't know. More than twelve."

"What happened? Was it going out of style?"

Malfoy chuckled. "In the beginning, yeah, I suppose it was. I didn't know how long I had in the free world. But when I was promoted at the library, I sort of just focused on the work. Was always there early, spent most of my day there, even after my shift, and then saw my friends. It wasn't meaningful so it wasn't…" He trailed off waiving an arm in the air.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Did your parents meet any of them?"

"Fuck no. Are you joking? My father wished I were in Azkaban when I told him I was gay; Mother was supportive but…I think she'd die if I introduced her to a Muggle. She only visits me here two or three times a year. It's too depressing for her. You?"

After Malfoy asked that he seemed to realise something. "I mean…"

"The Weasleys are my family. It was hard at first because of Ginny. I mean, we're great friends and she'd be happy for me but it was hard to bring someone around to introduce to your ex's parents. They saw a couple of blokes in passing, at a party or whatever but… No one stuck."

"And when did you discover you love to bottom?" Malfoy asked, and Harry was nearly spitting out his water, he was so caught by surprise.

"I don't love to bottom. I actually prefer to top. I just…what happened…it's not how it always is. It's not how I always am."

DRACO

Draco was glad Potter had given him the space he wanted when he'd made the excuse about doing laundry. Of course, he was going to wash Potter's clothes but he also maybe needed a minute. Potter was getting under his skin, and not in a bad way.

It had been annoying, and inconvenient; Potter was going to be staying with him longer. If anything, Draco hated the Ministry and all the restrictions still on him, but part of Draco was also content. Content Potter was staying. That Potter didn't look completely put off by the idea. And how Potter was game for more fun.

And it was fun. Potter seemed to be up for anything and everything. In the shower, Draco had teased Potter relentlessly, not giving in easily to the kisses, the touches, and Potter played along with Draco's little games.

When Draco returned to the sitting room and found Potter relaxing on the sofa, something stirred inside him. The loneliness he'd been ignoring for years rushed up and all but slapped him in the face. He didn't know how he felt like he'd missed this, even if he'd never had it in the first place. The companionship. The silent joy of sharing space with someone who understood you.

Potter teased him about the Prophets under the coffee table and then apologised. The entire wizarding world, his friends, his parents didn't tell Draco they were sorry he couldn't use his birth-right. He couldn't use any more magic than what a mere child was allowed. If anything, children at Hogwarts were using more magic than him; and with the way Potter had done it — it wasn't pitying, or condescending. What was it about Potter—since the second he'd got back in touch with Draco — he'd just clicked with him?

And then… "I don't love to bottom. I actually prefer to top. I just…what happened…it's not how it always is. It's not how I always am."

"It's how I've become. With you," said Potter.

Draco stared at Potter, stunned in silence. If ever there was a confession—to make Draco speechless—Potter had just gone and done it.

"Sorry, not sure where that came from," he said. "But you asked and I have this habit of just blurting out whatever comes to my mind."

"You seemed so natural," replied Draco when he'd managed to find his voice. "Begging for it." Okay, had he just said that part out loud? Needless to say, he'd caught whatever Potter had, about blurting things without thinking about them.

Potter gave a shy laugh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I did do that, didn't I?"

"I take it there isn't a lot of begging done when you're with someone who is only fucking you for your celebrity status?"

"Can we change the subject?" Potter asked, looking uncomfortable so Draco decided not to push. He was stuck with this man and for who knew how long, best not to make things awkward.

"Do you want to watch a film? I have a few Muggle DVDs, and…"

"Oh, okay. Yeah!" Potter said, sitting up straight. "Do you have a favourite?"

Draco got up from his seat and picked a few films out to hand to Potter. "I've seen them all. I like the action ones more than anything else. There's one about time travel…" he trailed off when he saw Potter reading the back of the DVD box for Independence Day. "That's the best one."

"Yeah? I never saw this one. Hermione and I go to the cinema sometimes but this is from—"

"Sixth year. That's why I like it, I think. It is like a parallel universe. What I was going through at that time, this film was made that same year."

"A reminder of how the world went on, Muggles and wizards lived their lives in a different part of the world while I watched Snape kill Dumbledore," said Potter.

I was there too, thought Draco.

"So, do you want to watch it?"

"Sure," Potter said handing the DVD box to Draco.

Draco played the film and then went to the kitchen to get some snacks. He grabbed crisps, a couple of beers, and placed them in front of Potter. He sat next to Potter, not touching him, but close enough—if Potter leaned towards him, it'd definitely be intentional.

The film played and Draco was invested in it again. He reached over to grab one of the bottles of beer and his hand brushed against Potter's.

"Sorry, I had the same idea," Potter said, handing the bottle to Draco. Draco nodded, and immediately, he was no longer paying any attention to the film.

The washing machine chimed and Draco all but flew off the sofa.

"Sorry, I need to go and hang the clothes up to dry."

"You don't use a dryer?" Potter asked, sounding confused. He quickly grabbed the remote control and paused the film.

"You don't have to stop," Draco said, "I'll just be a minute."

He left the room and thankfully, heard the telly again, figuring Potter was deciding to give him space again.

It felt good to sit next to Potter and do something mundane together. It was almost as if he could pretend he had a boyfriend, and they were doing normal couple things.

Draco took the clothes out of the machine and placed them in the laundry basket. Next, he went into the bathroom to summon the dryer rope. He didn't like using the dryer because of how his clothes had shrunk once or twice, and it was easier to simply use the clothes line. Since he didn't have a balcony, and it was a snowstorm outside, Draco continued to dry his clothes using the bit of magic he could.

He hung the clothes separately on the line and then placed the daylight spell.

"What are you doing?"

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin. "Bloody hell, Potter!" he scolded.

"Sorry," Potter said, looking sheepish. "I didn't think you'd get startled." When Potter scowled at him and then turned around, he asked again, "What are you doing?"

"Hanging clothes to dry. I use the daylight spell to charm the room as if it's a field. There's sunshine and a breeze as the clothes dry. It's how Muggles hang their clothes outside to dry. Except, the weather won't permit us to do that right now. And this is more private—"

"That's brilliant. I've never seen anyone use the daylight charm for this. I just thought people used it to get a fake tan in the winter, or it was mainly for wizards who couldn't manage a proper holiday away to a tropical island or something—"

"Well, thankfully, Ministry has unrevoked my travel ban so I'm allowed to go on chaperoned trips with my friends and family."

"They really do have a lot of time on their hands, don't they?"

Draco shrugged. "I suppose in the war, the powers were busy scrutinising the good side, so now since the good side has taken over—"

"No one is pure good or bad at the Ministry. They're just a bunch of people so miserable, they thrive in basking in other people's misery."

"Bloody hell, Potter. Tell me how you really feel."

Potter laughed and watched Draco as he finished hanging all the clothes.

"Now, will you come and finish the film with me?" Potter said, tugging on Draco's arm. "It's no fun if you're not there."

"I'm making the movie fun?" Draco asked as Potter dragged him back to the sitting room.

"Okay, it's boring to watch alone. I know you've seen it a few times already but still, I like seeing your reactions."

"I don't react."

"Yes you do."

"How do I react?" Draco asked looking down when Potter sat on the sofa.

Potter pulled Draco to him and Draco sat, his back pressed against Potter's chest, as Potter snaked his arm around Draco's waist.

"You still flinch when there's a big blow up scene, or still startle even though you're expecting the twist…" Potter trailed off, burying his face in Draco's neck. "And gods, you smell good."

There was that feeling again. The confusing feeling when Potter had said this was going to be a one-off, or was it Draco? But they had both agreed, and now Potter was acting like—

"Relax," Potter whispered against Draco's skin; the sensation was both hot and smooth. "I can see you thinking again. Can we just enjoy this?"

Draco didn't reply. He took a hold of the remote control and pressed play. Ultimately, he did relax into Potter's embrace. Potter was being gentle with him too. He seemed to only focus on the film, but, the heat between their bodies seemed nothing short of a bliss, and before he knew it, Draco had closed his eyes.

0-0-0-0-0

Draco woke up with his head resting on a soft pillow and a blanket over him. He stirred, almost forgetting where he was. It'd been a while since he'd fallen asleep on his sofa, and now he remembered why he didn't sleep on it. It was extremely uncomfortable, which was also a perk to why his friends never stayed over.

By the time he was fully awake, Potter was returning to the sitting room, and he smiled at Draco.

"Oh good, I was worried these were going to get soggy."

"What's this?" Draco asked when Potter placed two small plates in front of him and some juice.

"I made lunch. I was thinking about waking you. The film ended about half an hour ago, and then when my stomach grumbled, I figured it was time to eat something."

"How did you get…" Draco struggled with the words for a moment. "I mean, I'd fallen asleep on you, right?"

Potter chuckled low, and it was all sort of warm and friendly, and Draco immediately hated it. "I used a spell to levitate your body." When Draco raised an eyebrow, Potter rushed to add, "I was very careful. Trust me, I've had experience. I supported your head, and put you down gently. You didn't wake for one second."

"You could have just woke me up. I usually don't take a nap in—"

"It's fine. You looked at peace and so relaxed. I feel terribly guilty for overstaying my welcome. I mean…it's a strange situation, that's all."

"Indeed," Draco said, eyeing the plates on the coffee table. He was hungry. "What did you make?"

"Just a couple of sandwiches. I'm impressed at how fully stocked your refrigerator is. I never have anything more than bread and some peanut butter. If we ever have anything to eat, it's usually Hermione's doing. She knows she has to feed me and Ron or we'd simply live off crisps and ginger ale."

Draco nodded and didn't reply. What would he say? He hated people? He didn't like to go out if he didn't absolutely have to? That he didn't have a best friend living with him to take care of him? If anything, he had the responsibility of feeding his friends or his mother whenever they came to visit?

Draco didn't have the luxury of having Potter's life.

"Right. The quiet treatment," said Potter.

HARRY

Harry was glad he was actually making some sort of progress with Malfoy. Instead of scowling all the time, now, Malfoy was mostly quietly nodding. As if, Malfoy was still highly inconvenienced by Harry's existence, but had decided to be polite about it.

"This is good," Malfoy said, taking a bite into the ham sandwich Harry had made them for lunch.

His kitchen and his fridge was fully stocked, so Harry had a lot of ingredients and spreads to work with. The vegetables were fresh, and in the end, Harry hadn't even tried that hard. If it were he and Ron trying to make a sandwich at home, they'd have to Floo-call the closest market for things to be delivered first.

Of course, Malfoy didn't have a Floo, so he didn't have that convenience. A sort of luxury Harry had taken for granted.

"So, do you plan your weeks ahead of time?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy replied, putting his sandwich down and then reaching for his wand. "I have those Muggle fizzy drinks, do you want one? Cola or orange?"

"Orange is fine," said Harry and waited for Malfoy to summon to drinks before continuing. "With work, and grocery shopping, and all that. I was just thinking, you're totally living like a Muggle so do you decide what you want for dinner and lunch during the week or do you just, I don't know, go with whatever you have?"

"What's with the twenty questions?" Malfoy asked instead.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Harry said, almost slamming his hand down on the coffee table. "Just making fucking conversation, Malfoy."

"There's no need to pretend to be interested in me, Potter. Don't worry, we'll fuck again."

"What?" Harry asked, thwarted by the implied accusation. "You think I'm trying to be friendly with you because it's my way of what? Trying to be in your good graces so we can fuck again? Don't worry, Malfoy, I'm fully aware if I want to fuck again, we will fuck again."

"You're so certain?" Malfoy asked, challenge evident in his tone.

"I'm certain if I came over there and kissed you, you wouldn't deny me. I'm certain if I unbuttoned your trousers and pulled them down, took you in my mouth, you would be eager for it. As you have been since the second I touched you. I'm certain if I turn you around, bend you over that sofa and opened you up with my tongue, you'd happily accept my cock next."

Where the fuck was this coming from? And why did everything Harry had just suggested was becoming something he desperately wanted to do. He wanted to vanish this coffee table between them, bring Malfoy down on the ground, and fuck him with reckless abandon.

He needed to get the hell out of this flat.

There's no need to pretend to be interested in me, Potter. Don't worry, we'll fuck again.

Harry watched as Malfoy took a deep breath, leaned back against the sofa, and ran his hand through his hair. Harry had said too much. Maybe his descriptions of his desire to taste Malfoy was too much. Now all he could do was imagine Malfoy on his hands and knees while Harry was buried deep inside him. Not unlike the night before when the roles had been reversed.

"That sounds promising…" Malfoy said in a careful tone after a very long period of silence. Harry had started to wish the drink he'd had was Firewhisky instead.

He scoffed. "What if I promise to not fuck you until you tell me a little bit more about yourself?"

Then, Malfoy made a face.

"I don't—"

"I'm just trying to get to know you, Malfoy? Is that so bad? Is it because I'm an Auror? What if I make a vow to never reveal the things you tell me to anyone ever? What if I'm just some bloke you fucked and we're stuck together, so we're just trying to be friends or something."

"I don't know what it is you want from me, Potter? Do you want me to spell it out for you? I don't have much going on. I've already told you almost everything about me. The other things, you've seen it. This is what my day looks like. You know where I work, you've seen my DVD collection. Do you need me to admit, that yes, Draco Malfoy is truly suffering from the Ministry appointed punishment. He'd seen so much excitement in his teen years—now he's really truly living the life that's so mundane, it's better being in a coma."

"It's just…" Harry paused, trying to gather his thoughts.

"What?" Malfoy snapped at him.

"Maybe I, I don't know, didn't want to admit how similar we are in the end."

Malfoy scowled at him. "What does that mean?"

"That first time we'd met, at Madam Malkin's…when I was a Muggle nobody, and you were someone who knew everything about the wizarding world. And then our paths always crossed in the strangest of ways. Now, all these years later. You're here. Living, quite well-adjusted I might add, in the Muggle world, and I'm some wizarding golden boy. Maybe I want some validation. I am the one who has the mundane life. I thought things were going to change for me, and after the war, they did, but here I am. I live with my two best friends who want to get rid of me. I have a job I don't thoroughly enjoy and I'm sitting across from Draco Malfoy wondering how things changed and how they stayed the same anyway."

"I stopped comparing my life to yours a very long time ago, Potter."

"Yeah. I don't think I ever stopped."

Harry placed his empty drink glass down on the table and looked at Malfoy. Malfoy looked like he'd had the wind kicked out of him. Harry didn't know what he should say next, or if anything, he should just try to Apparate again.

Maybe, he could have used his mobile to call someone at the Ministry, somehow explain his situation and ask the magical transportation ban be lifted from Malfoy's building and get the fuck away. All of that sounded very complicated and it wasn't going to do anything to stop Malfoy from looking at him in the way he was right at that moment.

A few moments later, Malfoy got up off the sofa and cast a spell to gather the plates and glasses. They floated away into the kitchen as Malfoy didn't even look at them again. He reached down to grab Harry's hand and Harry didn't hesitate.

"Where…what… are we doing?"

"Let's go and do the uncomplicated and certain thing which doesn't require a lot of talking, Potter."

As they reached Malfoy's bedroom again, Harry remembered the clothes drying under the daylight charm in the bathroom. Without a word, they headed over there first and Harry took his clothes, folding them in a pile as Malfoy gathered his. He removed the charm, and they stood facing each other in the now dark and slowly cooling room.

Harry gave a small smile before he closed the distance between them and kissed Malfoy.

0-0-0-0-0

Harry traced the scars down Malfoy's chest, even though he knew he shouldn't have. They were there because of him. He was the one that'd given them to Malfoy, and the fact that Malfoy didn't even flinch when Harry touched them, gave Harry the foolish courage to talk about them.

"Did they hurt for a long time?"

Tonight, there was substantial light in the room and Harry wasn't easily able to ignore them. Even in the pretext of having sex, he'd seen them, but right now, it was different. They were cuddled together, and every time Harry looked at Malfoy, he wanted him, but also couldn't pretend the scars didn't exist.

Malfoy twined their legs together under the covers and edged himself closer.

"No…" he whispered.

"I know I apologised for them a long time ago and you said you'd forgiven me…"

"I have. It's the past," said Malfoy.

"Then, why didn't you ever get them removed?"

Malfoy shrugged. "In the beginning because it was a reminder of who I used to be—"

"Who you were made to be."

"Yeah, not sure I truly believe that," Malfoy replied, closing his eyes. "Now, I feel like I'd be a fraud. I don't know. Sometimes I wish you'd had just killed me. Sometimes, my days are little deaths in themselves, and if anything, I had brought these little deaths on myself."

0-0-0-0-0

They'd skipped dinner and Harry was fine with it. He was happy where he was, twined with Malfoy in his bed, drinking his whiskey.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Harry asked, taking a sip of the whiskey and then leaning over to kiss Malfoy.

Malfoy shrugged. "They always publish things about you in the Prophet."

Harry laughed, pulling Malfoy close to him, who eventually sat in his lap and straddled him. "Something real."

"Not sure. What would you be if you weren't an Auror?" Malfoy said and then threw his head back to give a bark of laughter. Harry suspected he was getting drunk. "Sorry, people probably ask you that all the time."

"Not really," Harry said. "No one's ever asked me that. Everyone just assumed I'd be an Auror because it was an idea I had when I was kid. And then, well, it stuck. Ron worked at his brother's shop for a while and then he became an Auror to, so—it became my life."

"And do you even know the answer to the question?"

"Do you know what you'd be? If you weren't a Muggle…" Harry snorted. "You know what I mean."

"You're avoiding answering the question." Malfoy said, rocking his hips.

"Not sure, maybe I could teach. But I'd go to a proper teaching school, and all. Not just, 'I have nothing better to do so I'll go and become a cranky old Professor at Hogwarts.' I'd wanna go to Uni, get a Qualified Teacher Status, and all."

"Yeah, sounds like, you've not thought about that at all."

"Shut up," Harry said, placing the bottle secure on the bed and then pulling Malfoy down to kiss. "You have to answer now. What would you think you'd be doing if you weren't surrounded by books."

"And Muggles."

Harry laughed. "And Muggles."

"Everyone thinks I'd be good at Potions, and they'd probably be correct. I'd be good at anything. Obviously."

"Obviously," echoed Harry.

"But, it's weird, but I like the idea of owning an antiques shop. Travelling the world and bringing it back to London and talk about my travels. Stuff like that. Not any of that creepy stuff at Borgin and Burkes. Gods, Father used to practically live in that shop. But, a real good one. Honourable even." And the he snorted. "Malfoys doing something honourable. Imagine that."

"I'd shop there," Harry said.

"Please, Potter. You'd be my first customer, and my only customer. You'd probably stop by every day and pretend to buy something for a co-worker or whatever and then practically clean me out."

"Probably," Harry said, sounding sincere. "You'd be filthy rich though."

"That is true. Then I'd be able to travel more."

"Oh, then I reckon I'd miss you, and then, maybe I wouldn't buy everything."

"You'd be the worst kind of customer. Pretend to be shopping but never buy. The window shoppers." He shuddered.

"Wow, you can make anything sound like profanity with that mouth of yours."

"Please, you like my profane mouth," Malfoy said tightening his grip with his thighs around Harry's waist.

"Yeah," Harry said, thoughtful. "I do." What's even scarier is I think I really like you.

DRACO

For the second morning in a row, Draco didn't wake up alone. What was worse was that today, unlike yesterday, his body was all twined limbs with Potter's. If he wanted to wake up and slide out of bed, it was going to be hard to do so.

Letting go of Potter was going to be hard to do so.

His stomach growled and his mouth tasted slightly foul. They'd skipped dinner last night in lieu of sex. All the fucking sex. And they'd also smartly drank up all the whiskey Draco owned.

So let's try to remember this then, Draco thought in his head.

Wake up. Breakfast. Shower sex. Watch a film together. Have lunch. Oh, don't forget the part where you'd fallen asleep in his arms. Then, more sex. Alcohol. Sex.

And now he was perfectly twisted in with Potter's body with Potter resting his head in the space between Draco's neck and shoulder.

Bloody brilliant.

"You really know how to have casual sex, Draco…" he inadvertently blurted to himself because, of course, he was not used to being next to someone for over twenty-four hours.

"Hmm?" Potter stirred, and Draco had hope. Maybe he'd turn away and Draco would be free.

But no. Potter pulled Draco closer and hummed.

Draco didn't have any other option but to relax. He'd not even realised his entire body had stiffened up. He only had two options; he could wake Potter up and be all morning-after awkward, or he could just lie there and be comfortable. As soon as he decided to calm down and felt his body go soft, Potter stirred again.

This time, he turned, letting go of Draco. Draco was free.

He slowly eased out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash up, brush his teeth, and then decided to make breakfast. He had no idea what the storm status was and he wasn't curious to learn about it just yet. He didn't know how he'd react if Potter had to stay longer. He didn't know how he'd react if Potter was free to leave. And if Potter left.

Forever.

When he returned to the bedroom, Potter was awake.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning," replied Potter.

"I'll get the coffee started."

"Sure, sounds good."

"If you want to take a shower, there are other clothes…and also your clothes from yeste—two days ago."

"Right. Thanks."

Draco paused for a brief second and noticed Potter wasn't wearing his glasses yet so even though he was looking in Draco's direction, he probably couldn't see Draco's face very well. He softly breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.

"Alright. See you soon." He all but ran out of his room.

A few minutes later, Potter came into the kitchen. He was dressed in Draco's borrowed clothes from the day before and now was wearing his glasses. His hair was sticking up in one side and his shirt was inside out.

Draco turned away from Potter and bit his lower lip. He looked adorable. He looked like he could wake up next to Potter like that every morning and that'd be more than acceptable.

Naturally, he was fooling himself.

They hadn't even taken the first sip of the coffee when the tapping noise broke their little domestic situation.

"What's that?"

"It's the window in the bedroom." He didn't know what the tapping was but it sounded familiar. A sort of sound he'd not been used to for almost ten years. "I think it's an—"

"Owl," Potter said and they both rushed to the bedroom.

Draco opened the window and found a huge owl, dark grey feathers and amber eyes, holding a letter. The owl looked suspiciously, if owls could look like they were judging, between Draco and Potter and back at Draco again. Draco took the letter addressed to him and the owl immediately flew towards Potter's arm.

It was bloody nuzzling against Potter's face.

"Seba…" Potter said with awe. "You sweet thing." And then Potter was rubbing his nose against the owl's head.

"Do you two want to be alone?" Draco asked, feeling oddly jealous of a Ministry owl.

"Do you have any…? I mean why would you but… Right, we'll have to improvise."

"Care to speak in complete sentences, Potter?"

"Do you have any toffee?"

"What?" Draco was so confused. "Yes, in the kitchen." He left Potter and the owl, Seba, and went to the kitchen. He had some toffee lying around from when his cousin Teddy visited and handed it to Potter.

Potter cast a spell and the purple toffee transformed into to squiggly little worm.

"Ew," Draco said without thinking.

"Shh!" Potter demanded and the owl immediately snatched the worm from Potter's hand. "Ah, I think she likes that flavour."

"Glad to know," Draco said and turned his attention to the letter he was holding. "I can't believe I received an owl. I never get owls."

He opened the letter in haste and started to read the content aloud.

"Dear Mr Malfoy, due to the harsh storm which has been soaring through for the past twenty-four hours, and the conditions many Muggle neighbourhoods are facing, the Ministry has decided to extend the use of magical communication and magical transportation. For the next twenty-four hours, the Ministry has lifted the anti-Apparition ban from your place of residence so you are able to travel in and out of your home. This includes all wizards who may be visiting you currently or plan to be visiting you and are unable to do so otherwise.

Please note, if the weather continues to be so horrendous, the authorisation will remain active for an additional twenty-four hours.

Further, since the Ministry is understaffed and cannot relay messages through mobile to all restricted households…" Draco paused to snort. "Wizards can use owls to communicate with their families, if need be, and if owls are not required, you may return the owl back to the Ministry owlery immediately.

We hope you have a safe and happy Christmas with your family."

Draco put the letter down and didn't read the rest of the pleasantries and salutations.

"It's hard to believe the Ministry is being so lenient because of Chris— Oh."

"What?" Draco asked. "Why are they being nice?"

"Hermione probably tried to contact me and since I wasn't home—"

"She's made them lift the ban?"

"She would venture a guess to where I have been. Where I am."

"And she wants to rescue you."

"It's not like—"

"It's fine, Potter. You can go home now."

"Malfoy…"

The owl hooted, seeking attention, or most likely seeing another treat. Draco was glad for it. He didn't want to argue with Potter or try to get his pity or whatever. He handed another piece of the toffee to Potter to Transfigure it into a worm, and got started on the cooking. He wondered if Potter was going to stay for breakfast before Disapparating; now that he could.

"You know since you have an owl here, do you want to use it? Maybe write out a message to your friends or family?"

Draco considered that since it was a good idea. He nodded once and went to find some paper. He didn't have wizarding parchment and quill, so notebook paper and a Muggle pen would have to do.

HARRY

When Malfoy left the room to write a letter, Harry allowed himself a brief moment to panic. He didn't want to leave Malfoy's flat. Not just yet. He could not believe, if in fact it was Hermione who'd lifted the ban, she would do this.

That she would do this to him.

He was certain she wouldn't do anything like this to hurt his chances and probably would be super surprised Harry was getting along with Malfoy so well — Maybe she thought he was stuck with Malfoy and they'd probably kill each other.

But it wasn't just the sex that was making Harry stay; although he had to admit it was fucking fantastic. It was actually spending quality time with Malfoy. He'd shared things with Malfoy he'd not really told anyone else, and, Malfoy had been so different with him. He'd opened up too and when he'd fallen asleep on the sofa with Harry holding him — Harry's almost imagined he could do that forever.

Be with Malfoy like that.

He knew he was crazy, of course, because spending two days together didn't mean you could have a meaningful relationship, but it gave Harry the thought this could be something worth pursuing.

Malfoy would be worth pursuing.

"Thank you for allowing me to use Seb— your owl." Malfoy returned to the kitchen and he awkwardly smiled at Harry. "Will you be staying for break—"

"Yeah, of course," Harry said in haste. He didn't want Malfoy to kick him out. "Is that okay? If I stay for breakfast? I like…liked this. I enjoyed our time together."

"Very well," Malfoy said, turning away from Harry. He stood at the stove for a few seconds, unmoving. Then, he handed the chopping board and knife to Harry as if Harry was expected to know what to do. He did, he supposed. He'd chopped up the vegetables yesterday, he reckoned he was doing the same thing today.

"Thanks for letting me stay," Harry said softly, unsure of why he was being so nervous again. He'd come in Malfoy's mouth, his arse, and all over his chest. Now, he was blushing like a virgin.

"Shut up," was all Malfoy said before he started to beat the eggs to make omelettes.

0-0-0-0-0

Harry had wanted to push Malfoy against the kitchen counter and have his way with him. He knew Malfoy would be all for it, as well, but he'd been patient. He'd waited until they were done and then Harry was in the shower again.

Unlike yesterday morning when it'd been just hands and mouths, this morning, Harry pushed Malfoy against the tiled walled and fucked him. He'd wanted to do it face-to-face but Malfoy hadn't allowed him any free time. He'd pushed back against Harry's groin, whispering encouragements with that filthy mouth of his, and Harry was lucky he'd manage to function at all.

He knew his grip on Malfoy's hips was going to leave a bruise and he wondered if Malfoy would let the marks stay there or he'd charm them off. He wasn't using a lot of magic in his day-to-day activities and maybe he'd look forward to the opportunity. Harry liked to imagine when Malfoy would see the bruises on his skin in the mirror, he'd smile at the good time they'd had, and maybe reminisce.

Harry was a stupid romantic.

All this was— was a one-off gone too long. Malfoy wouldn't miss him. He'd made it perfectly clear he hated everything the Ministry has to offer and even if he'd enjoy this little sexcation with Harry, Harry was still part of the Ministry. He'd used the owl because of Harry, and Harry had far more wizarding privileges than Malfoy would ever be able to see in his lifetime.

"Fuck, Potter…" Malfoy gasped when Harry had finally manage to turn him around after he's spent himself inside Malfoy. Harry was on his knees, ready to worship Malfoy's cock once again —probably for the last time, "…maybe it isn't that it's been so long. I'll admit, I think you're fucking fantastic…" He groaned when Harry swirled his tongue around Malfoy's cock. "Fucking your mouth has become my top five favourite things to do ever."

Harry chuckled, Malfoy's cock still in his mouth, as he pressed the flat of his finger against Malfoy's hole. It was throbbing, probably still sensitive from Harry just having fucked him and he pressed inside. Malfoy moaned Harry's name and spilled himself down Harry's throat in no time.

Harry was getting used to this. He was getting used to Malfoy's gasps, moans, and his taste. Fuck, he loved he way Malfoy tasted. He made his way up, kissing Malfoy's stomach, his chest, teasing his nipples, until he was kissing Malfoy again.

"Tasting you has become one of my top five favourite things to do," he said.

Malfoy smiled a brilliant smile as if he'd finally let it all down and allowed himself to show Harry his true self. That he could be like this. He could be care-free, and not full of hate for the wizarding world— he could have fun. And then it was gone. He turned his face sideways and turned the shower water off.

"It's getting cold," he said, and then left the shower. "Besides, you should probably get going soon. I don't want your friends and half the Ministry barging into my flat when I'm less than half-dressed."

"You still have wards, Malfoy," said Harry.

"Please. The Ministry doesn't respect my wards." He rolled his eyes and threw a clean towel at Harry. "In addition, I want to be able to Apparate to Mother's while I still can. They've relinquished the bans and I intend to take full advantage."

"Right," said Harry and began to dress. "Don't worry, Draco. I'll make sure you take full advantage."

He was gone ten minutes later.

Their goodbye was almost as painful and cringe worthy as Harry'd imagined. "Thank you for a wonderful time," Harry said, reaching for Draco's hand and Draco had immediately stepped back.

"It was good while it lasted, Potter. Let's not read too much into it."

"That's not what I'm trying to do."

"I know. I just…it's better this way. It's best to go our separate ways. It's evident online dating isn't for me because…" He trailed off, not finishing his sentence and Harry genuinely wanted to know what he was going to say. Why wasn't it for him? Was it because he'd managed to meet Harry and now no one else would be good enough?

Get real, Harry. He didn't want to meet you in the first place.

"Same," Harry replied. "Well, have a nice life, Malfoy." It didn't feel right to call him just Malfoy anymore but there was nothing Harry could do. Even if Harry wanted to make him his, Draco wasn't his.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Harry was sitting in a very long meeting about compliance. He was trying to pay attention but the presenter wasn't keeping anyone's attention. The hols were over and it was back to the grind. It seemed for one reason or another, everyone was feeling the post-holiday blues. No one actually wanted to be at work, even if there was work to be done.

As soon as the meeting was over, Hattie, one of the secretaries came rushing into the room.

"Mr Potter, you have a visitor in the front lobby."

"Oh?" Harry asked, confused. Visitors were allowed to come to Harry's office. "In the lobby downstairs?"

"Yes, sir. He refuses to come up and well— I think it's best for him. Not sure if you want to see him. He requested to wait down there and if you were going to turn him away, he said he didn't want to waste his time here more than he had to."

Harry's eyes widened as Hattie seemed to be flustered. It couldn't possibly be, could it? Was it him?

After Harry had gone home from Draco's place, he'd been in a funk. Christmas and New Year's with the Weasleys was good; it was always good. But there was a part of Harry that was missing. A part he didn't even know he had until he'd left it at Draco's flat.

His fingers had hovered over his mobile many times wondering if he should text, or call, or even just show up. He couldn't. Draco had made it very clear he didn't want anything to do with him.

He'd never reached out to Harry. On New Year's day when Harry had woken up in his bed, hung over, he'd checked his texts. He had sent a Happy New Year. I miss you. message which had received no reply.

"He's here?" Harry asked Hattie as if she'd know who the 'he' Harry was referring to.

"Mr Malfoy, sir," Hattie said in a hushed tone. "Should I send a message—"

"No, he's my guest, I will come downstairs and greet him," Harry said. "Just give me a second." He rushed to his office, dropped off the papers he'd received to review in that compliance meeting and checked himself in the small mirror behind the door. It belonged to his office mate, and Harry for once, cared about his appearance.

It wasn't everyday Draco Malfoy came to the Ministry to see Harry.

0-0-0-0-0

Harry had seen Draco at his most casual in his flat. When he'd arrived, he'd been wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, and the next day, Draco hadn't dressed up, either — but it was totally something different to see a wizard in relaxed Muggle wear in the sea of formal robes.

He could not believe it was Draco Malfoy, dressed in dark denims, with a grey hoodie and red converse shoes, holding two cups of coffee. Harry had always imagined if and when Draco came to the Ministry for his mandatory check-ins, he'd be wearing wizarding-garb. Now, he could finally see the wizard that'd been shunned out of the very society that'd made him who he was and how he gave no fucks about it.

Unable to hide his smile in his surprise, Harry greeted Draco like he would an old friend. He pulled him in for a hug. And fuck did Harry miss the way he smelled.

"You look good," he said taking half a step back.

"I…" Draco seemed to fluster for a second. "Thanks." He handed one of the coffee cups to Harry. "Put extra sugar in for you. It's still before eleven so I figured you'd drink it."

"An excuse to come and see me, Malfoy?" Harry teased, taking the cup, and he felt his face heat up as their fingers brushed. Why did this feel like such an awkward first date all of a sudden. Harry didn't really care, though, he was happy to see Draco there. Maybe it meant it wasn't all in his head.

"Well, yes."

"Do you want to go somewhere to talk—"

"No," Draco said quickly. "I need to tell you this or I might change my mind and then leave."

"I definitely don't want you to leave."

Draco smiled and took a sip of his coffee. "Can you get us some privacy, though? I feel like everyone's staring at me—"

"That's because they are. I just hugged you in the lobby on the ground floor of the Ministry of Magic. But…" Harry mumbled a spell and instantly there was no sound around them. He'd closed them in a little bubble. "You were gonna say?"

"I can't stop thinking about you. Ever since you left, my tiny one bedroom flat seems like it's missing a huge something. Your side of the bed — can you believe it? I think of it as your side of the bed now — is too cold. I remember where you sat, where you held me, the places where we kissed and touched and…you get the idea."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I do. I messaged—"

"I know. I was scared. I am scared because it's honestly the worst idea in the world."

"But…"

"But, I think I'm a little in love with you, Potter."

Harry released a sigh of relief. He'd no idea he was holding in his breath but when it came whooshing out, he felt like a huge weight had been lifted off him. "Yeah, I get that."

"Pardon?" Draco asked, looking bemused.

"I think I'm a little in love with you too, Draco."

DRACO

Draco was happy to get back to work after the winter holidays were over and the library was open full time again. Still, the idea of Potter, of he and Potter together, never left him alone. It'd been so much worse when on New Year's Eve, Draco was at a party at Pansy's place, and his mobile had vibrated.

Happy New Year! I miss you had come in around one o'clock and Draco had immediately turned his mobile off. For one, he didn't want his friends to know about it, and second, he didn't want to drunkenly respond. What would he have said? I miss the way you once dragged your mouth against my neck, kissing, and biting, and then commenting on my scent at the same time? The way you'd told me you loved the way I smelled, and the way you'd held me while I fell asleep on my sofa?

Draco had spent forty eight hours with Potter and it was the best two days of his adult life.

And then, on his day off, Draco found himself heading to the Ministry. To talk to Potter because having been with Potter and then without him was worse than not being able to use magic. Not being able to Apparate anywhere.

"I think I'm a little in love with you, Potter."

Draco hadn't meant to say those words exactly, like them, or at all, but then Potter had said it back. Almost immediately.

There was no embarrassment. No rejection. Potter was happy to see him and he didn't give Draco any grief about taking two weeks to get it all together.

"I'm moving out, by the way," Potter told Draco. And he'd started to call Draco Draco. The name was so fluid on Potter's tongue, as if he didn't even need to struggle with it, and it belonged there.

"You are?" Draco asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I've been looking at flats in Muggle London. They're more affordable and more private."

"You're struggling with your finances?" Draco said, laughing.

"No. But I don't want to live in some big luxury building. Not yet anyway. Not while I am still single."

"Oh."

"Besides it's limited magic use so you know, I figured it'd be good practice for when I went undercover on assignments. I rely on magic too much, maybe."

"You were making plans…" Draco said carefully, "before you even knew."

"Eventually, I was going to go back to your flat. It was just a matter of time. I knew it wasn't all in my head. What we had together. It was too good to be a one-time fluke. We got on well—"

"We also fought."

"But we always fight. That's never going to change, Draco."

"So what do we do now? We're dating?" Draco asked, nervous. It was what he wanted. Actually, what he wanted was to drag Potter back to his flat, lock all the doors and keep him there. Their little world for two days had made him so comfortable in his own skin, he didn't want to let go of that feeling.

Potter grinned at him, and it was bright enough to light up the room.

"Yes. And my first duty as your official - not yet but close enough to be - boyfriend is…" He grabbed Draco's hand and yanked him towards the lifts. "Come with me!"

The little bubble Potter had charmed for privacy had burst and now everyone was back staring at them, and Draco took in the noise of his surroundings. Thankfully, the lift was empty and as it jerked its way to wherever Potter was taking Draco, Draco was glad no one else was there to witness his anxiety.

And, it gave them the privacy to kiss. Potter didn't waste any time pushing Draco against the wall and crowding into his space. "Are you always this needy?" Draco huffed out before Potter's lips had claimed his.

"With you, maybe," Potter replied after he sucked on Draco's lower lip, hard enough to leave a bruise.

The lift chimed and the doors opened and they were running again. "Where are we going, Pott—" Draco stopped when he realised they were in the owlery.

"Hi, I need to assign an owl to—actually, no," Potter said looking intently at the worker sitting behind the desk. "I'd like to put in a request to re-assign Seba as a full-time owl for one of Ministry's charges in the Muggle world."

"The charges in the Muggle world don't get owl pri—"

"I know, yes," Potter interrupted him with a voice of authority Draco didn't know he possessed and he was not ashamed to admit it made him slightly weak in the knees. "But I, Auror Potter, am putting in a request. Effective immediately, Seba will be a Ministry owl that will stay under the guardianship of Draco Malfoy. If the sanctioning officer does not approve of this, then the Ministry will pay for a new owl to be purchased. I'm authorising a release for full-time owl use for Draco Malfoy."

"Sir, you can't—"

"Think about what you are going to say to me, Samford."

"Right, sir. Of course. My job is to process requests," Samford said, and immediately stood up. He was gone for two minutes and when he returned, he gave Potter a piece of parchment. "I'll need you and Mr Malfoy to sign the release, please."

Potter skimmed the form and signed it, and then handed the quill to Draco to do the same.

"What are we doing, Potter?"

"You're getting Seba," replied Potter as if, yes of course, that made total sense. "Just sign here."

Draco turned away from prying eyes. "You're asking me to trust you?" he asked in a whisper.

"You know how you can't use an owl right now and have to rely on your mobile by sending a message to the Ministry and then they sending the message to your friends and family?"

"Yes, but my friends can use the internet."

Potter rolled his eyes. "This will give you unmonitored owl privileges, Draco."

"My own owl?" Draco asked. Obviously, because it was what they were here for but he needed to make sure.

"Unmonitored."

Freedom. It was a small step but it was more than what Draco had had in a while. His way to keep in touch with the wizarding world on his own terms.

"You'd do this for me?" Draco asked, not meaning to have actually asked the question but he was simply struck by the generosity of this little action. It was probably no big deal for Potter. He was a high-level Auror.

Potter shrugged. "I'll need a way to keep in touch with you if we're both living in Muggle London and if I'm working late. Most times, I don't take my mobile on missions so…owls are important."

"And here you are…" Samford interrupted, which was a good thing because Draco was once again at a loss for words. "If you can just sign, Mr Malfoy." He had Seba, the owl that'd been at his place at the same time as Potter, in her carrier.

"Of course," Draco said, signing his name on the parchment. "Hello, Seba…" He offered his finger to her and she nipped on it. "I'll have lots of apple and cranberry flavoured worms for you in no time, love."

"Cranberry…" Potter said under his breath. When Draco looked at him confused, he added, "that's the taste on your tongue. I couldn't figure out the flavour."

Samford cleared his throat and Draco could see how he was the most difficult and how Potter looked like he wanted to punch him.

"Let's go," Draco said, and Potter lifted the owl in its carrier and they headed back to the lifts.

"I have to get back to my desk, I'm sure they'll be looking for me in no time."

Draco nodded. "Of course, not sure if I should be apologising for simply showing up at your place of employment to…"

"To confess that you fancy me?"

Now, it was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "At least I didn't just send a drunken text."

They reached the ground floor and Potter walked with Draco all the way to the Floo. "So, can I see you later tonight?" he asked, handing Seba to Draco. "Maybe I can take you to dinner. You can pick the place."

"There's a French restaurant not too far from my flat. I can give you the address. Perhaps we can arrange to meet there?" Draco asked, feeling timid. He needed to come to terms with these feelings for Potter, and especially, how Potter was making him stress out just by asking to have dinner.

"Sounds great. Why don't you owl me the details later."

Draco snorted. And then he was back feeling like Potter was the most pathetic thing in the world. "I shall."

Potter leaned in close and they shared a brief kiss before it was time for Draco to leave.

"I'll see you later, Harry," said Draco, trying out the name on his tongue.

THE END.

Thank you for reading. This story is not going to have a sequel, kindly don't ask for one - because that just gets really annoying for the author that's worked so hard on their stories to share. With their own free time and for fun. I appreciate the support but if you didn't like it, you can just move on. There's no need for negativity. Have a great day!

Sincerely, DIG.