Harry sat with Ron in the Ministry dining hall, his nerves getting the better of him.

"I think I'm just gonna stick to being by myself," Harry muttered, pushing his seat back and startling his friend, "I can't do this."

"Sit down," Ron commanded him, and he must have been learning from Hermione, because Harry obeyed without question, "Ginny wouldn't want you to sulk like this, working and going home to that dark and frankly scary house. Ever since the war, Grimmauld's never felt right to me."

Harry rolled his eyes feeling attacked that Ron decided he didn't like the place now. It had been just fine their fifth year, when his family was there and everything was relatively in chaos. He supposed that maybe it was the loneliness which made Ron hate the place for Harry, he had been through a lot in the past year.

"I know that, alright, but is me trying to find a housemate in your new pal really my best option?"

Ron grinned.

"Hermione herself couldn't have chosen better, Harry. You don't know him like I do, he's actually a lot like yourself," his best mate informed him of this supposed potentially perfect match.

"If past you could hear yourself, I think he'd curse you into oblivion, Ron."

The wizard laughed, his face light, and his eyes looking much less tired than they had. Harry felt like he owed Ron this, really, especially since it made him so bloody happy at the mere prospect of it.

"I reckon you're right, but I'm glad that this is who I am now. The git is honestly one of my best mates now, Harry."

Green eyes rolled, chest deflating in sync with the action. Harry hardly could have believed it either, when suddenly, Draco Malfoy was Ron Weasley's newest friend. The term had been applied loosely at first, but it happened when another unbelievable event occurred. See, none of the Golden Trio had talked to Malfoy whatsoever since the war, but that limitation did not hold to Ginevra Weasley who single-handedly made Malfoy the jovial man he was then. Ginny had somehow befriended the wizard, gotten him out, and then made him friends with her brother. It was three entirely separate miracles that Harry hadn't really been around to witness.

"I know that, and it's not even in tolerance because of Gin."

"I don't know how you two haven't ended up all buddy-buddy yet, but here's your chance! Malfoy'll make a fine housemate, and then I won't have to bother with so much apparation to see my best mates!"

Harry felt sick.

He held no ill will towards the ferret, but he didn't exactly like him either. Harry hadn't spent enough time around him to do so. He'd worked so much and so often, he barely had spent time with Ginny before she…

Malfoy walked into the room, and the only reason Harry knew with his back facing the entrance was because Ron lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Hey, Draco!" They shook hands, and Harry stood against better judgment as Malfoy extended one to him too, no hesitation or even a hint of trepidation.

How was he not nervous as hell?

"Heard you needed a flatmate," was all Malfoy said, grinning.

The smile wasn't like the sinister one he'd worn in Hogwarts, no, it was something entirely different. It was like he'd finally learned how to properly greet a person and be jovial.

"Housemate, actually, but not the point," Harry muttered, already feeling foolish. It was like one of those awful blind dates Hermione made him go on, where everything about the situation made him uncomfortable.

Ginny had never made him feel like this, and now it only felt like she was being replaced.

"Ron," Harry whispered as they settled back down, "I can't-"

"Nonsense," he interrupted, loudly, only proving to Draco Malfoy that he'd been about to back out, "Tell him what you told me, Draco."

"I am, very soon, going to be in need of a place to stay, and you, quite immediately, need someone to stay with you. Therefore, Potter, I want to be that person. Never thought I'd get a chance to see into the Chosen One's life, but I bet it's interesting."

Malfoy would find his life interesting? Not likely.

"Why do either of you think this is a brilliant idea? We don't get on-"

"We didn't," Malfoy corrected promptly, "I want to do so now, there's nothing stopping us. Besides… I have some stories and the likes from Ginny you might not mind hearing."

The whole conversation turned from awkward and embarrassing, right into frigid and poignant waters.

"She really did like you, Malfoy," Harry admitted, though he was lucky he could claim he knew that at all.

"Yeah, and I reckon you will too. Things are different now."

Feeling the weight of Ginny's death come onto him tenfold, Harry changed the subject quickly and promptly.

"So why the sudden need to move from wherever you are?" He wondered, genuinely curious as to who could make Draco Malfoy move from his perch.

"Ah, that. Yes, well, I most recently decided I'm going to end my relationship with my boyfriend, and he is most certainly not going to want me there. I'm sure as bloody hell not going to my manor, as long as my father lives there, and I don't fancy being alone."

Harry would have understood where Draco was coming from, truly, if he hadn't gotten caught up on the fact that he'd said he was ending his relationship with his boyfriend. When on Earth had Draco come out, and why hadn't Ginny nor Ron told him? Then again, seeing as Ron had failed to mention, Ginny most probably had not failed to do so, and he had done a poor job of listening.

"Right. I reckon that's enough reason," Harry mumbled, seeing Ron grin like he'd made a match from heaven.

"I bloody well think so," Draco relished, "Now what do you say Potter?"

"Hey, Harry, did you grab drinks for the party tonight?" Draco wondered at Harry as he walked through the sitting room's threshold after his day in the office.

"Yeah, put them down before coming in here, how's the decorating going?" He wondered back, feeling the thrill of the holidays coming on tenfold.

Draco had insisted on this party, most vehemently to show off the decorating they'd finally finished two weeks prior. Luckily they had done so just before Christmas, and now they were happily hosting all their mutual friends at Grimmauld.

Harry was mildly frustrated with the take-over Draco had brought over the place at first, but then, when brightness had come and people visited more often, Harry had helped his housemate and even gave him some freedom to do as he pleased. Originally the makeover had only been allowed if every decision made was under Harry's agreement, but seeing the positive change living with someone had on himself, Harry gave way. Besides, Draco had had just enough Black blood in him to get a few walls down and open the magically enhanced house significantly. Sirius would have been pleased.

"I can't reach the top of the tree-" the blonde pestered, looking up, then to the star in his hands, then back to Harry, "-not that you're any help, Hare."

Harry chuckled, flicked his wand, and wondered why on Earth that hadn't been the first thing to pop into his housemate's mind.

"Idiot."

"Arse," Draco responded, going back to his fussing, his wand also out and shoving new decorations in new places.

It was obvious he'd been trying to lessen his use of magic, and while Harry wasn't entirely sure why, he didn't mind. For the sake of his stomach, however, he hoped the man would at least continue to make their breakfast with the help of his magic. Honestly, that fire just did not want to be put out on those pancakes Harry later could have used a bricks.

"Did you pick up a gift for Rosie?" He countered.

"Yes, I wrapped it because I have seen your wrapping, and I swear on my life I never will again. If you ever wrap my presents like that, I'll murder you. It's got to be possible somehow," Draco moaned, knowing very intimately Harry's life at that point.

More often than not Harry escaped his death, and as an Auror, it was far more common than his housemate would have liked. Draco was the protective sort, and his reasoning was mostly that he wouldn't be able to convince the Ministry that Harry allowed him to live in Grimmauld and he'd be homeless, but he knew Draco was his friend. Obviously, he'd quickly seen Ron's point, even if they'd hated each other for the first twelve hours.

"What'd you get her?"

"She's an infant, Harry, I bought her a broom," Draco sneered comically, then turned serious, "I got some cute clothes I know Hermione had been eyeing last time we were out, and then from you I purchased the sweet little princess a magical mobile."

Grinning, Harry mockingly told him thanks and proceeded to go back to the kitchen where he was planning to cook a glorious meal.

Company came soon enough, and then they were all seated at the dinner table, enjoying the food Harry had concocted, and the drinks he'd bought earlier on. A few fine wines and firewhiskies were the hit, and Hermione was enjoying her first drink since the baby.

Being sat at the head of the table gave Harry the perfect advantage to see most everyone, though his talking was limited to Draco on his left and Blaise Zabini on his right. Hermione and Ron occupied the seat next to Draco, and Blaise was enjoying the company of Luna and Rolf. Neville sat further down, accompanied by Dean and Seamus, and they were having the time of their lives down there.

"So, Harry, heard you almost died this week," Blaise pulled his attention, and with a laugh, his green glared directed at Draco, he nodded.

"No, but I'm pretty sure Draco thinks I almost die every day. Luckily, today was just paperwork, so no threats when I got home."

Blaise laughed, something Harry found a bit to pleasing for all the looking at the Slytherin he'd done that day. Not that he'd entirely meant to, for Merlin's sake, the wizard had visited before, but that green Christmas jumper was something else against dark skin.

The man bit his lip and sipped his drink, eyes ranking over Harry as much as he'd done the same. It was obvious, blatant flirting, and he was loving every minute of it. Besides the fact Draco and he had become mates, Harry had also allowed himself to properly get over Ginny and live life a bit more freely, hearing all the things she'd told Draco. It was… comforting, and that all made his flirting easier and oh so much more fun.

"They let the Savior do paperwork? Don't you have minions for that?"

"I'm not Head Auror yet, but I'm working on it. Geoffrey is bound to retire soon," Harry smiled devilishly, feeling proud. It wasn't bad to be cocky when flirting.

"Old coot," Ron said from across the table, "He hasn't been on field work in years, Harry's a shoe-in."

"Well deserved, too, I'm sure," Blaise added, grinning in that sideways way Harry enjoyed a little too much.

"Oh, so you're trying to get yourself complained at and killed," Draco butt in, "Fine then. Die. Leave me homeless, then I'm Blaise's problem."

"Merlin's balls, you're not," he protested, "Maybe you can crash on the couch for a night, but I'm not that generous."

"Slytherin," Draco informed them all, their houses merely a joke at that point, seeing as there was a formidable mix of the lot. Neville's Hufflepuff girlfriend couldn't make it that night, but she'd complete the set.

"Like that means shit," the dark-skinned wizard replied, and Hermione, baby Rose in the seat behind her giggling as infants were wont to do, glared.

"Could you not use that profanity in front of the baby, Zabini."

"Sorry, love," he sweetened, flashing her a familiar smile she laughed at and Harry unabashedly lost himself in.

He took a quick glance at Draco who was either unamused, or knowing. It morphed into both when their eyes caught, and Harry realized just how much they had become good mates. Best mates, even, and Ron was very proud of this situation too.

Harry was up against a wall in record time, that spring evening, his sides burning with the touch of hot hands, and his lips feeling that wonderful pressure of another's. Blaise was not gentle, and Harry would be crazy to ask him to be. They continued on like that, in a muggle park, where they'd ended up near the pavilion, snogging like teenagers. The date had been stupid simple for both wizards, but Harry had been tired from the field, and Blaise had been antsy about Draco's complaining. He, too, had recently found someone, but sounded positively miserable almost all of the time. Blaise got the brunt of it, and Harry got the rest, which was usually the drunk or crying version. He didn't get very angry in front of Harry that often, and he suspected it was because of the nonsense he did get at the Ministry.

"Mhm, should we head back to yours?" Harry wondered, feeling teeth on his neck and not wanting to be embarrassed out in public when his boyfriend got a… reaction.

"We always go to mine, what's wrong with yours?" Blaise wondered suddenly distracted, his hands loosening, and Harry feeling a bit let down.

"Nothing's wrong," he said slowly, "But I've got a blonde ferret in my house, and you live on your own."

Blaise grinned, "I'm quite the bachelor. Isn't D out with Mason anyways?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Bachelor my arse, and you know he always ends up back at Grimmauld early."

Pushing back a little, Blaise looked offhandedly towards the darkness surrounding them, his lips pursed, face distorted like Harry had never seen before.

"You know, Harry, I don't. He barely talks to me anymore, despite what you think. I get his complaints about the bloke, but that's all. And whenever we're around him together, it's like I don't exist to the either of you."

Shocked, the boy-who-lived furrowed his brows and shuffled around his boyfriend. He had had no idea Blaise had felt like this, and he could tell there was more coming. All the seriousness of the Slytherin was being exhibited, which was a tell that he was more than upset, the always jestful and smiling wizard he was.

"We don't ever go to yours, and I feel like it's because you don't want me there," Blaise finished, his eyes glassy, and Harry felt the guilt wash over him as though being swallowed by thrashing waves.

"No, I just don't want Draco being uncomfortable, he's miserable, and he's both our mates."

"That's the thing, we have too many mutual friends, Hare. All of our friends are the same, come to think of it. I don't talk to anyone from Slytherin anymore, just Draco."

"How is that a problem?" Harry wondered back harshly, his voice taking a defensive tone. Sure they'd had calm squabbles before, but this was turning rough and heavy rather quickly.

"What happens when something happens to us?" Blaise offered, his body nowhere near Harry's, tense and off-kilter.

"When?" The Gryffindor responded, his head hot and heart clenching slightly.

"That's not what I meant," his boyfriend menaced, and their stances were short, as were their tempers, when the wind blew and Harry got to push his hair back and break the tense gaze.

"Really, because you also called yourself a bachelor just a bit ago, is that what you're gunning for?"

Blaise's expression softened into confusion. "Gunning?" He shook his head, "That doesn't matter, but I don't want this over, Harry, I want more."

Now it was Harry's turn to look confused, and had a feeling where this was going. Late Spring made people do things like this, and he'd always been good at anticipation.

"I want to live with you," he continued on, grabbing Harry's hand in an affectionate way that made the Auror revel in the tenderness. Their fight could have gone much further, he was sure.

"What about Draco?"

"I don't like pets," Blaise offered, and Harry had to laugh, as much as he didn't want to.

"I can't kick him out, it's his home too. He pays rent," Harry countered.

Flat-lining his mouth, Blaise rolled his eyes, "It can't be much seeing as his father cut him off when he came out."

Shrugging, Harry squeezed Blaise's hand and wondered hopefully, "Live with me anyways? I can't leave Grimmauld, not yet, not anytime soon. Besides, Draco is second floor, I'm fourth, we'll hardly notice him."

"It's Draco," the dark-skinned wizard tried to get across to his boyfriend, but with Harry's eyes wide with hope, he gave up the debacle, "And I guess living with my favorite human and my best-mate wouldn't be awful."

Harry grinned, though it was a half-smile, nothing more. Something in him told his conscience that Blaise was not okay with the arrangements they were making, though. There was just a feeling which crawled over his skin, making his hair stand on end, that just didn't feel right. It was like a random magical signature, and Harry felt mildly uncomfortable.

"Let's just go to yours tonight, then tomorrow we can pack and tell Draco?"

With a heated, powerful, kiss, Blaise took Harry back to his flat, and Harry spent the night naked and worrying.

"I hate him, you know, even if he's my best-mate," Draco said aloud, his housemate slouched in a chair, looking pitiful and actually rather depressed. Harry felt all of the way he looked, too, but the pacing the blonde was doing was of almost no help.

"We didn't even make it a year," he mumbled, incoherent and heart-broken.

Sitting down, though quite precariously at the edge of a tan sofa, Draco rubbed his knees and made an interruptive sound.

"No, but you guys did move in together too soon, really. I liked having the bloke about, but I got more glares than usual."

"He left because of you," Harry admitted for the first time since the whole thing had come about that morning. Blaise had been gone, note on the counter, Halloween decorations just coming down, sitting in the box next to the parchment.

Draco didn't seem to have an answer, though he felt genuinely sorry for the loss he'd caused his mates. Harry and Blaise had seemed quite happy then, but it seemed that that was not the entire case. Then again, nothing was ever as it seemed when it came to Harry James Potter.

"I don't- I mean, I'm not really mad at you, Draco. I'm not mad at all, really," Harry said morosely, his tone degrading himself.

"I was in the way, though-"

"No, if Blaise had wanted to stay, or even if I had needed him to, we would have made it work. Besides, it's too late for all of that now. We'll wait a couple months, rebound, then we'll be back to normal and you can have him 'round again."

"You're taking this rather well," Draco admitted, his voice strained at hoping he had said the right things. A mad Harry was never one he wanted about, and that was certainly something everyone knew, regardless of how often they visited theirs.

"Yeah... Thinking back it was mostly attraction, I mean, we were two entirely different people," Harry admitted.

"We're two entirely different people, Harry, and we get on just fine," Draco pointed out, feeling mildly confused.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, glancing at the blonde nervously, he wondered, "How are you and Mason?"

The Auror had no idea how on Earth he was still with that wizard, but Draco seemed to have tamed their fights enough to the point he didn't complain or cry as often, if at all.

"Fine," he dismissed, however, picking at his nails and deciding they were much more interesting than his love life.

Looking up suddenly as if he had a bright idea, Harry asked, "Wanna grab a pint with me? I need a mate right now, and we can pick up Ron on the way?"

"Sure," Draco agreed. It wasn't like either of them had anything better to do.

New Year's Eve was upon them all, and Harry was back to his pre-Blaise self, as was Blaise respectively. They were at the same party, even, being at Harry and Draco's house and all. The merriment was excessive, really, and the drinks just started at about nine. Mason had stormed out about an hour earlier, telling Draco he was done, and while nothing had felt more awkward than that moment, the blonde seemed to brush it off pretty well.

For the first time in a while, Harry was noticing Draco in an odd way. He felt like there was something to it other than when he first moved in, like the way he always attempted to make meals and felt bad when others did it for him, or the way he always had to shower at night because the world was dark and he felt people were less likely to see him then, magical enchantments be damned. This was different, though, he was noticing how Draco's shirt hung from his shoulders in this undeniably attractive way, and how the rare appearance of jeans emphasized that he looked bloody fine in them. There was the startling fact to a very sober Harry that he was attracted to his housemate, which made him all the more uncomfortable than earlier.

So he started as the night went on, and he only took in a few more drinks, which weren't even firewhiskies. Harry felt odd, the pull of the new year and this new attraction, but it felt wrong. He had to have the pull of acting normally with his mate, for Draco wouldn't ever want him. They lived together, and besides, he'd already poured one-too-many shots after Mason had exited.

Nervous for the bloke, Harry wheedled through the crowd and found the blonde, his drunkenness not at all obvious until he attempted to walk. There was no real difference than everyone else, though, since they'd all taken in more than their fair share of drinks. Some of the smaller children were upstairs asleep, and lucky there were charms for that too or Draco's yelling for Harry would have been disastrous.

"Hare! Hare, I need you," his drawling voice called, though Hermione told him to quit whining.

"Yes, D?" He responded, walking over and letting Draco swing his arm over his shoulder, "You alright?"

"Yes, fine, of course. Merlin, who... do you think I am?" The blonde inflected, grinning.

Harry laughed, the buzz around him making him want to sway closer and connect their lips every time he caught a whiff of Draco. Still, he had to remind himself that they were only friends. Besides it had to be a mere passing fancy, seeing as it had only come up after he and Blaise ended things. The dark-skinned wizard was there with someone unfamiliar to Harry, though he couldn't have cared less.

"Let's go sit, it's almost the new year," Harry said happily, and almost two years with Draco was upon him, surprisingly.

They hadn't killed one-another, and as Harry plopped his mate on the couch, Ron eyeing the blonde with a laugh, he let himself wonder why. Maybe he'd always been attracted to Draco, and there was why they started to get along, why they'd both had rocky relationships... or Harry was just overthinking it. He chalked it up as that and stood to let Draco moan over how wizarding New Years had never been this fun during his time at the Manor.

Everyone gathered about the telly as time ticked closer and closer, and suddenly they were all in the sitting room Draco had done such a bloody good job on, and they were pressed together happily, Draco now standing claiming he couldn't dare miss the countdown.

"Three," Everyone chanted happily, but there was a tug on Harry's jumper, "Two," came next, and he was looking in Draco's eyes, "One!" They finished, but "Happy New Year!" Was lost to Harry when lips crashed against his own, the feeling almost driving him up a wall.

If you'd have asked him, he would have happily told you there were literal sparks, their bodies hot and arms grabbing as other couples shared kisses, and the other hugs of joy and celebration. It was astounding that he'd waited this long to see it, but Draco doing it on his terms was thrilling. Guilt about him ending his relationship on hours earlier would come tomorrow, but now he didn't care at all. Now he had his blonde, and they were going quite happily.

It seemed the crowded room had allowed enough privacy to the point everyone seemed to miss it when they came apart and Harry grinned like the Cheshire cat, Ron coming over to shake their hands, Hermione handing out very large and excited hugs.

Then the night was soon over, everyone leaving to go sleep as much as possible before the next day came and their hangovers were annoyingly prominent.

Draco seemed to have disappeared when everyone had gone, and too tired and electrified from their kiss and the party to care, Harry went to bed.

The next morning, when Harry awoke around half eleven, he felt the retributions of the night prior, though he thanked Merlin he hadn't drunk as much as he'd intended... or as much as anyone else did. At first, he didn't remember the kiss, the bringing in the new year with his housemate who he suddenly wanted to be so much more. He didn't want to overthink it, either, and so with a swift wash, he started to head downstairs.

Rising before Draco was a right surprise, but taking how much the man had consumed in alcohol, Harry took what he may and made his own tea for the morning, brewing a cup of coffee for Draco knowing he might bloody well need it.

The sitting down took a few minutes to manage, but then Harry was settled with the morning paper and all was well in the new year.

Dutifully he anticipated the blonde to awake and come down from the second floor, wanting nothing more than to be in his electrifying presence. Harry tried to remain calm, but calm had never been something he was talented at.

When Draco did finally emerge from his bed, he was as displeased as Harry imagined him to be, or the groans of displeasure as he descended the stairs were merely the wooden things themselves.

"Coffee in the pot," Harry called to him, attempting to keep the excitement in his voice to a low level.

"Thanks," came the gruff reply, and soon a disheveled blonde was seated across from Harry, a warm mug lifted before his lips.

He watched Draco drink the coffee, and then look up with grey eyes focused and curious.

"What has you in the chipper mood?" Draco almost sounded jealous, if anything, and Harry supposed it was because he'd awoken with a much less severe hangover than his housemate.

"I just started the new year right this time, I think."

Draco looked at him suspiciously, shrugging as he chugged back the rest of his coffee, grimacing as he did so.

"Good for you, Hare. I know last year was a bust with Blaise. I think me not having Mason anymore either means we both really did get a rather good start."

He smiled, and Harry swooned, but he pushed for more, wanting to be closer to Draco and to feel the way he'd felt the prior evening.

"I'm glad he left, it means I get your time now."

Draco chuckled in response, casually leaning back and crossing his arms, "Been deprived of your roommate too much, Hare? Well, I guess now that we're both free agents, we should head out and try to broaden our horizons. Maybe we can both find good blokes this time?"

Harry was… well, he was confused as hell. He vividly remembered their heated kiss the evening before, the one Draco had initiated, and now he was being told that he had to go find a good bloke? He already had, and he was sitting right in front of him. Of course, now he had to know what Draco recalled from the prior evening, for certainly he hadn't been that sloshed, had he?

"Draco, what do you remember from last night?"

"I dunno, not much after Mason left. Did some shots, got pretty knackered, then I don't really recall anything else. Why? Did I miss your life-changing start of a new year?"

Harry was tempted to say yes.

Regardless, he just sat there, dumbfounded that the blonde recalled nothing of their kiss… or how amazing it had been for him, and suddenly he felt like a right fool.

"Uh, no, I guess it wasn't anything much, I just… I dunno really."

Draco narrowed grey eyes, but he didn't press, and for that Harry was thankful. He knew his roommate, for he usually went on and said whatever he pleased whenever he felt like it. Of course, the disappointed air that Harry had created must have dissuaded him.

Being a Gryffindor meant more than just being able to kiss someone on New Year's Eve, however.

"Draco, you kissed me last night."

He'd engrossed himself into a book, but the blonde looked up with a frightened white visage and put the reading down, opting instead for a quick set of heavy breaths.

"Impossible, I don't… Harry-"

"It was really nice," Harry had said almost at the same time, thinking Draco was worried that he'd offended him by doing it, when it was quite the opposite, really. "In fact, I think you should have done it sooner."

White was taken over by color once again, though Harry feared it was not good. He didn't blush in satisfaction, or turn crimson with delight, no. All Harry was afforded on the pretty face was a sympathetic and pitiful smile.

"Harry, that was wrong of me… obviously it not only was under the influence of far too many good liquors, but also it lead you on. I think of you as no more than a housemate, I'm sorry, Hare."

For a while, he felt like the floor had just been ripped from beneath his feet, and everything was white and sounded like plain blistering noise. Anger ripped through him at having said something in the first place, and regret, alongside abashment, tainted his rather wonderful start to the new year.

Harry let out his breath, but did not take a new one, his lungs too weak and body too broken to function anything that would sustain him. He'd just been destroyed by his roommate, in little less than a few minutes.

"I'm…" he could hardly manage the words, "I- I thought you-" the sentence cut off, and Harry choked on air, tears and sobs coming forth as he ran from the room and up the stairs towards his bedroom on the fourth floor.

Draco was left in a sad wake, feeling very regretful for hurting his mate like he had, and wishing he could do it all over again, this time without kissing Harry.

It was actually astounding how two people could avoid each other in such small quarters as Grimmauld Place. While there was plenty of space going up and down, the only kitchen and sitting area rested on the first floor, and neither party dared to be caught there if they even heard the indication of a soul in the rooms.

Harry spent all of January throwing himself into every hard case he could get his hands on, earning him a rather grateful pat on the back from Kingsley. Yet it was unhealthy, as he barely ate, and worked overtime for every hour he could. It was a horrible way to treat himself, and Hermione nor Ron were pleased. They seemed to take no notice, however, that Draco and Harry weren't apart of one-another's lives, which only made Harry fall deeper into the pit of despair he'd dug himself.

It wasn't until February broached them, and the season of Valentine's day rolled into the thoughts of every eligible witch and wizard out there. Seeing as everyone knew Harry Potter was single, it came as no surprise that the Ministry notes were almost always for him. The interdepartmental planes were sometimes snatched from the air with intent of reading whom they were addressed to as a bet, because one out of two times you were likely to get one addressed to the boy-who-lived.

Harry tired of it before it even began and when The Prophet had reported that he still seemed to have no Valentine on this joyous holiday, the requests increased tenfold.

Each and every one looked the same, and it came as no surprise to Harry when he came to work that fateful fourteenth day of February and his office had a huge pile of papers which all had the folds of classic Ministry notes imprinted on them. It was going to be a long day, but Harry since he was one month and two weeks exactly into getting his heart broken, he wanted nothing to do with the pile and shoved them all to the floor in a ruckus of papers.

Harry felt better after that, and waded through them, not caring to clean up as he circled his office and sat down on the opposite side of his desk to eat lunch alone later that day.

Halfway through the hour, Ron came into his office and was not shy in his opinion of Harry's redecorating.

"What in bloody hell happened here?"

"The whole Ministry wants to sleep with me, it seems."

Ron snorted, "Why you? If not only for your name, I'm the good-looking one of the two of us."

"But you're taken," Harry reminded Ron as if he needed it, shuffling through his takeaway chinese to find the water chestnuts at the bottom of the container. He happily munched on one as Ron picked them up and began to leaf through them.

"Hermione said she wants nothing other than a single red rose, and a nice night alone, so I arranged for mum to take Rose. I can't muck something that simple up, so at least she made it easy on me."

He mumbled on as Harry watched Ron read a few notes that caused him to laugh heartily and chewed happily on a crisp water chestnut.

"Well, since it seems every witch and wizard in the building wants to shag you, maybe you should just pick one and ease your bloody attitude that you've acquired lately, Mr. Gloom and Doom," Ron said with a snark turn, handing Harry a pile to inspect.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dunno, it was Hermione who said it, but she's right. You've been in a right foul mood since your party for the New Year," he commented, sitting in Harry's chair with a grin.

Harry only glared, feeling as though he'd been called out by someone who shouldn't have been doing it. Ron had always supported Harry through thick and thin, bar fourth year, and now he was telling him that he was upset! What was it with this man? He just wasn't in the mood for joy lately, that's all. And he certainly was not telling his best mate that Draco had up and broken his heart.

"I just decided to take things more seriously is all, you don't need to get your knickers in a twist over me… or my love life," Harry asserted.

The auror only rolled his eyes.

"All I'm saying is that a good shag would seriously loosen you up a bit. Does wonders for Hermione."

Harry pelted a balled up letter Ron's way.

They spent the rest of their lunch together, sifting through the letters with a slight bit of hilarity. When the break was over, however, Harry's mood restored itself to the proper life-hating fashion, and he went back to work.

Now, Ron was usually utter shite at giving advice, but when it came down to it, maybe he was slightly correct. Harry needed to get out and just… live, even if nothing came of a date or two. He had to get over Draco eventually, and he was sick of tip-toeing downstairs to use his kitchen or sitting room.

With regret already plastered on his face, Harry decided he would just leave it up to chance and pluck one from the pile and accept the offer made. He reached down to his floor and closed his eyes, careful not to get a papercut, and shuffled them around, his hand finally choosing his date for the evening.

On the record, Harry had quite liked Valentine's day, and so had Ginny. They'd celebrated nicely when they were together, and the thoughts almost spoiled Harry's idea of spending the evening with someone else. Still, he didn't want to disappoint Ron or Hermione any longer, and he read over the note with quick eyes.

It seemed as luck would have it, he wasn't to know who his date was until he actually met them there. It was sad, really, that he would have to wait, but at least now he got an element of surprise as well as a good date for the evening. Of course, he was also on high alert, because as sure as he was that no one wanted to kill him in the Ministry, he was never truly sure.

As Harry readied for the evening, he heard Draco downstairs, roughing through the house as though he had something big planned. Harry loathed to think that he had a date too, one he'd probably been with for at least a few weeks now, not seeing Draco as the one to simply randomly invite someone for the holiday. Besides, it would be classic of him to have already moved on… not that there had been something to move on from in the first place.

Regardless, Harry focused on his evening, and when the time came to apparate, he was there in moments, walking the short distance to the actual place where he was to meet the person. Luckily enough, there were a few muggles around, and the area was generally nice, so he imagined that the person did not plan on killing him.

When he looked at the clock to see what time it was, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and assumed that he'd need not worry over timeliness, for his Valentine for the evening had arrived. He hated to call the person that, but the papers would get loads off the story saying the same thing, so why not?

Fate seemed cruel however, as Harry was not met with his date, but with Draco Malfoy of all people who looked very spruced up… and Harry hated him for it.

"You look great," the blonde breathed out, looking quite relieved to have caught him.

Harry, however, felt like he was stuck, and wished his date would arrive soon to save him from having this conversation.

"Thanks," he was able to bite out, though it was obvious to both wizards that it was not very kind.

"You know, I didn't think you'd come," Draco said nervously, beginning to straighten up a bit and tug at his cuffs, "I figured you'd read my note and toss it in the waste-bin."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man, wondering if he'd gone insane. For surely, this couldn't be who his mystery date was, as it seemed that Draco assumed Harry knew who he was meeting. He wondered briefly if two people had seemed to offer the same spot and offer, but even that was not likely enough for Harry to believe.

"You're the one who told me to meet you here?"

It was Draco's turn to look confused, "Yes, well, I gave you the place and time, and signed my name saying 'Please meet me here.' Was it not clear enough?"

Harry rubbed his head in aggravation and pushed his hair back, "Your name wasn't on the note, but everything else you just said was. That doesn't explain why would you invite me out, Draco."

The blonde seemed lost for words, his actions as frantic as Harry's and it occurred to him that he'd never seen the ferret so discomposed before. The disheveled look was quite fitting to him, and Harry hated himself for complimenting the insanity of his housemate, a housemate who had recently broken his heart, if he recalled correctly.

"Harry, I've been thinking about you non-stop for the past few weeks. At first, I was okay when I told you that I didn't have any feelings for you, that… everything was fine. A couple weeks passed, with a few scant thoughts about how you probably hated me and that I'd have to find a new roomie, but I realized once I started looking that I didn't really want to live anywhere else. I also didn't want anyone else as my housemate, and then I couldn't stop thinking about you in this new way. You are so handsome, and I don't remember anything of our kiss, but I began to want to… and I just wished-"

Draco had rambled on long enough, looking as undignified as he had when he was but a white ferret running up and down his friend's legs and being manipulated by not-Moody, and Harry took pity on him. So, with a jump of Gryffindor courage, Harry grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him into a kiss.

Though it was not New Year's Eve, he felt the same fireworks the first time their kiss had happened, but this time it came with the wanting of over a month's loss. Harry had never felt better, kissing him deeply as Draco finally grabbed back and pulled them close together.

The reciprocation was brilliant, and the two men parted reluctantly, if not only to get out of the muggles whistling their way.

"You forgive me then, for being a huge, drunk, prat?"

Harry laughed, "I never said anything about forgiveness, but your story was sweet. I also came here for a good meal, so I hope you're still willing to provide, Draco."

Draco beamed, his dignity soon coming back as he tightened his vestments and picked back up the Malfoy persona.

"Provide, I shall, my Valentine."

Harry shook his head in disgust of the name, but Draco only grinned.

"Bugger off, Hare, I'll call you whatever I want."

"Hopefully after this we can head back to my place tonight… or should we go to yours?" Harry offered curiously, his hand getting snatched by Draco as they made their way into a fancy restaurant.

"Mhm, tough decision, but I think we should go to yours, seeing as I have a roommate I don't want to bother too much with the loud sounds I'm sure we'll be making," Draco teased, and Harry only wish he could have slapped him harder, if not for the dinner crowd staring them down as they entered the restaurant.

They enjoyed the dinner, and then their evening together in the Black home, Twelve Grimmauld Place never being quite the same again, seeing as there were no longer two roommates in the house, but two lovers who easily filled the home with their laughter and bickering every day and night.