A/N: This first scene should be read alongside Chapter 7 of High Flying and is from Draco's POV. I'll be posting additional bonus scenes after the main story wraps up. Speaking of which...I'm currently working on Chapter 15 :-)

"Daaaad!"

Draco was barely able to suppress the urge to roll his eyes, but his body still rebelled with a sigh and a slump of his shoulders. He loved his son with all his heart, but it was only day two of Scorpius' illness and the slight whine in his voice was grating on Draco's nerves. Scorpius had started off just feeling a little tired and cranky, but his symptoms quickly worsened to include fever, sore throat, and an uncanny ability to bellow for Draco every twenty minutes, down to the second.

He'd spent most of the afternoon preparing a Pepper-Up Potion, but that was just a temporary fix. He wouldn't be able to make an Amelio Draught until another stock of dried elderberry was delivered to the apothecary.

He closed his eyes wearily and counted to five before getting up from his desk in the study and climbing the stairs up to Scorpius' room.

Poking his head around the door, he tried not to chuckle at Scorpius' half-hearted attempt to take a nap. His son was lying on top of his crimson coverlet, legs and arms akimbo as though he were a rag doll that someone tossed haphazardly onto the bed.

"Scorpius, you should be resting," he stated in a quiet but firm manner.

"I can't! My throat still hurts." There was still a dreadful pallor to his face that made Draco cringe with worry. He would be greatly relieved when his ingredient shipment arrived.

In a soft voice Draco responded, "I know. But it's too soon to give you another Pepper-Up and the rest of the ingredients I need for your medicine won't be in until tomorrow. You're going to have to be strong for me. Can you do that?"

Scorpius looked at him pitifully. "I'll try."

Draco nodded with a slight smile and went to exit the room when Scorpius spoke again. "Will you stay with me dad? Please?"

His smile grew and he crossed the room to sit on the edge of his son's bed. "Do you want to hear a story?" he offered.

A tiny fire sparked in Scorpius' eyes. "I want to hear about the Knights of the Round Table!" he cried, voice cracking with both excitement and hoarseness.

Damn that Potter.

"Scorpius," he tried. "I told you before, I don't know anything about knights." That wasn't entirely true. There were some stories of jousting and the like that had reached even his ears as a child, but best not to let on about that. Instead, he swallowed hard before uttering his next thought. "Why don't you ask Coach Harry about them when you're able to go back to camp?"

I can't believe I'm encouraging my son to talk to Potter. And about bloody knights for that matter.

Scorpius threw him another miserable glance. "When can I go back to camp? I'm missing everything!"

"Probably not until the day after tomorrow," Draco began, holding up a hand when his son tried to interrupt. "I still have to make your potion, you have to take it, and then you have to stay in bed for the rest of the day. Let's see how you feel in two days."

"I miss Coach Harry," Scorpius muttered under his breath. Draco pretended not to hear, but thought to himself.

Yes, Potter does seem to be getting under our skin, doesn't he?

Potter was appearing in Draco's thoughts more often than appropriate ever since he'd seen him during Scorpius' first week at camp. Straightaway, he'd been jolted back to his days at Hogwarts when he saw the raven-haired wizard shaking his son's hand. A thick rope of jealousy had taken hold of his chest. Why was it that Potter could let bygones be bygones with his son, but not him? Not once had he ever reached out to Draco during the last ten years. Had he not thought about him at all?

Probably not since the war trials, he thought grimly.

Draco, to his credit, had thought about Potter several times over the past decade, but normally only in conjunction with thoughts of his mother and her departure to the Swiss Alps. Vague appreciation for Potter's role in securing her freedom tended to flit through his mind like a hummingbird. But other than those fleeting reflections, he hadn't thought of Potter in depth until the night Scorpius asked if he could take private lessons with the former Gryffindor. And though Draco was still carrying around some residual anger from Hogwarts, he couldn't deprive his son of something so innocuous and finally gave in to send Potter an owl.

And then…he'd happened to catch a glimpse of Potter through the front window of the Manor on the first day of Scorpius' lessons. He was admiring his mother's flowers in the garden and looked so serene and vulnerable and…attractive.

He still favored Muggle jeans, much as he had in school, but gangly teenaged Potter was no match for this muscular and tanned version that Draco much preferred. So much so that he felt the need to greet Potter personally rather than have the elves attend to him.

Dazedly coming back to the present, he decided to comment on his son's statement after all. "I'm sure he misses you too."

After a few minutes of consoling Scorpius Draco was coming down the staircase, mind set on going down to his lab to prepare the base ingredients for the Amelio Potion. However, his thoughts promptly evaporated when he heard an angry and insistent banging on the front door.

What the devil is going on?

Hastening his step, he heard Lenni's muffled greeting, but could not make out the voice of his visitor from where he stood on the second floor.

Who would be coming over at this time in the evening? And without firecalling first no less.

Finally reaching the bottom step, he was met with an angry green stare and the blistering fury of Harry Potter.

Something stirred low in Draco's groin as he watched Potter rage at him. His shock at seeing the bespectacled wizard faded and he was now drawn in by the gem-like quality of his eyes. They fairly crackled with energy and Draco found himself sputtering as he tried to keep up with what Potter was saying.

"Am I – what?" Did Potter ask him if he was punishing Scorpius? Had the boy done something at camp to set Potter off? "Why would I be punishing Scorpius?"

An ugly scowl twisted on Potter's face.

"He hasn't been at camp for two days and you haven't sent any word about him and I know you were angry when you left Grimmauld Place the last time you saw me and - " The brunette rushed through his words and then cut off the rest of his sentence just as quickly.

He may not have finished, but Draco caught the insinuation behind the words. "And you thought that because I was angry with you that I would penalize my son and keep him from doing something that makes him happy. Merlin Potter, you are a piece of work."

He watched as Harry colored slightly and began to squeeze his fingers, much like a house elf would. For some odd reason, the gesture was endearing and softened Draco's next sentence much more than he had originally planned.

"Scorpius is ill and rather than subject the rest of that motley group you teach to his germs, I decided to keep him home until he was feeling better. Is that quite alright with you?"

"Oh."

Draco smirked and allowed himself to take in Potter's appearance during this lull. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt again, an outfit which Draco was quickly becoming fond of. Yet it was his face that truly held his attention this time. Potter's face had filled out, giving him a healthy athletic appearance. The scar was still there of course, but was mostly covered by a bit of dark fringe that didn't appear to want to stay put on Potter's head. Draco's gray eyes were then drawn down to Potter's magical emerald orbs. They were beautiful, Draco was chagrined to admit, like most of Potter was now.

He was pulled from his reverie when the other man began speaking again. "But you could have sent an owl or something. I was worried."

Draco suppressed a satisfied smirk and settled for a grin instead. I like that you worry about us.

Potter had not specifically included Draco as one of the objects of his concern, but the blond was going to assume it was implied.

"Apparently. I'm sorry that I didn't let you know, but I've been rather busy taking care of him. I don't trust the house elves with him when he's like this. They'll just coddle him and feed him ice cream without giving him the proper potions."

Potter's forehead wrinkled in obvious confusion. "Why can't his mum take care of him some of the time? Give you a break?"

Draco froze, instantly on guard. His neck hurt with the effort of keeping it completely still, but he needed to scrutinize the question. Did Potter really not know about Draco's orientation? He guessed not after a moment's thought. It had been about a decade since they'd really spoken. How was he supposed to know? Still, better to be cautious in case of a hidden agenda.

"Scorpius' mother and I are not together." There. He'd answered the question, but not let on about why they were separated. It was embarrassing enough when Larissa had discovered his Bare Broomstick magazine, he didn't really want to live through that moment again. But trust Potter to always push the envelope.

"Why not?" he asked, curiosity barely contained in his expression.

It was his similarity to Scorpius in that moment that made Draco willing to give in to the questioning.

"Do you always just blurt out inappropriate questions, heedless of other people's privacy?"

Potter blushed handsomely and chuckled. "I guess so. It's part of my Gryffindor charm."

Indeed. Best not to say just how charming. Fine. Full disclosure it is then.

"Yes well, I think Larissa found my fondness for cock rather distasteful."

A loud laugh desperately wanted to fight its way out of Draco's throat at that moment. Potter's expression was priceless. He resembled an ocean creature filter feeding based solely on the way his mouth opened and closed several times without sound.

Potter positively squeaked when he responded. "Your fondness for – you're gay?"

"Yes. Aren't you? I wouldn't think you would find that particular trait shocking in someone else."

Especially after your late-night rendezvous with a random bloke that left you looking like you'd been ambushed by a vampire…

But of course Potter couldn't give him a straight answer. "It's not someone being gay. It's you, Draco Malfoy, being gay that's shocking."

Something airy and delicious flowed through Draco's veins. He called me Draco, it sang. That was the moment he decided. He didn't care what it took. He would make Harry Potter his. The blond wasn't sure what kind of opponent he would find in the man Potter had brought home on Saturday, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter that they'd been enemies in school either. He just knew that he wanted to keep hearing Potter say his name that way. Preferably while Draco was on top of him, drilling against his prostate -

"What?" Potter asked nervously and Draco realized he hadn't responded. In fact he probably had an idiotic grin on his face if the concern on Potter's was anything to go by.

"Do you realize that's probably the first time you've ever said my first name?"

Draco could see the lie forming on Potter's lips before he could speak it. "I'm sure I have before."

He's uncomfortable. I'll give him a reprieve. For now.

"When you can think of an instance, be sure to let me know. In the meantime, I would assume you would like to see Scorpius since you came all this way. That way you can know that he really is under the weather and I haven't strung him up by his toes out of anger."

Potter got his composure back. "I'd like that. Not to prove that he's sick, just to see him. I trust you," he seemed to add as an afterthought.

It was the blonds turn to lose his poise for a moment. But thankfully he was a Malfoy and it only showed in the raising of an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"Well, mostly," Potter replied with a flush.

Draco laughed. This was going to be fun.

Draco knew he was babbling as they ascended the stairs up to Scorpius' room, but he needed to do something to cover the thoughts rapidly whirling in his mind. Potter's presence behind him on the steps was unnerving. It had been far too long since he'd had anyone else in the Manor, let alone up to his son's room. Running his enterprises was like two full-time jobs on top of making sure that Scorpius was safe and no one tried to exact any last-minute revenge on either of them for his actions in the war.

But maybe it was time to relax a bit. He was certain that should he engage in a relationship with Potter that the Gryffindor in him would always make sure both he and Scorpius were well-taken care of. Something to think about for sure.

For now though, he just had to think of a way to keep Potter here for a while longer so that he could gauge if that was something that could ever happen.

Draco leaned up against the wall in the hallway with his arms crossed as he watched Potter converse quietly with Scorpius. He was sat on the edge of the bed much like Draco had done not too long ago. He had to admit, Potter seemed to be really good with the boy. And Scorpius' eyes lit up in a way they hadn't for days when he saw Potter enter the room.

That's good. If Potter is someone I decide to have in my life its imperative that I have Scorpius' approval first.

He jerked his head up as Harry came back into the hall, a small smile playing on the corners of his mouth.

Let's test our luck now, shall we?

"Going back home now that you've performed your hero duties for the day?"

Draco hadn't anticipated such a hearty laugh coming from Potter. "Guess so. Why? Did you expect me to stay and keep you company?"

Gritting his teeth was painful, Draco was finding out. He had to admit that Potter's cynicism stung. Was it so preposterous to believe that Potter might want to spend some time with him?

It might not have been had you not stormed out of Grimmauld Place the other night. It's no wonder he doesn't want to visit with you.

But he still had to try. "You could stay for a drink if you wanted to."

Don't turn around to look at him.

Draco didn't want to know what kinds of emotions would be crossing Potter's face just then. He didn't need any more blows to his pride this evening. And just when he thought the silence was going to choke him, Potter spoke.

"I can stay for a drink."

Draco couldn't help it. He stopped on the stairs to look back at Potter. The brunette wore a sheepish expression, but didn't look away from Draco's stare.

Maybe I have a chance after all.

"Right then. Follow me."

Draco's heart was hammering in his chest as they walked down to one of the small libraries on the first floor. He very much wanted to place his forehead into the palm of his hand and try to sort out his thoughts, but knew that would be unbecoming of a Malfoy. Instead, he strode across the room as though he hadn't a care in the world. "Pick your poison."

From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Potter sit in the armchair near the window. He might have expected Potter to pick the one chair in the room that Draco favored the most. "Er, Firewhiskey is fine. Thanks."

He prepared their drinks and then sat down opposite the green-eyed wizard. Under the façade of looking down at his glass while he sipped, he watched Potter watch him. He probably thought he was being inconspicuous, but Draco felt the weight of Potter's eyes as they trailed down from his neck to his chest. He also caught the look of near-disappointment when he couldn't see anything beyond where the robe was tied together. The blond was suddenly very glad he'd forgone a shirt tonight and swallowed another mouthful of Firewhiskey.

Based on Potter's cough, he was affected by what he saw there. "When did you know you were gay?" he blurted hastily.

"I think on some level I always knew, but probably when I started thinking more about being reamed from behind by a bloke than about touching breasts."

Ugh. He was unwillingly reminded of the last time he'd had sex with Larissa. His lip curled in disgust just thinking about her soft bits brushing up against him.

The sight of Potter choking as a result of his words was enough to pull that unpleasant thought from his mind and light a playful gleam in his eyes.

After several long moments, he was able to choke out, "You're an ass."

And now to go in for the kill.

"I figured it out in Hogwarts. Got a little too excited during those after-Quidditch showers, if you know what I mean." Draco decided to wink at Potter purely to see his reaction. Plus, his mother wasn't here to see it so she wouldn't chastise him about improper behavior. Besides, it seemed to have the desired effect on Potter.

"You're – not like I thought you were."

You never really knew me from the beginning though, did you?

"I suppose that's one of the hazards of keeping childhood impressions of someone and applying them to the adult they've grown into." Let him chew on that one for a minute. Potter needed to be the one to decide if they could get over their prior animosity, but Draco wouldn't force him into it. Absolutely would not guilt him into making a decision.

But Potter was taking too long to respond. Draco felt the need to throw something else out there to catch his attention.

"I think you've changed too."

Green eyes snapped up to his, previous train of thought completely derailed. "How so?"

"Well, you're still just as reckless as you were, jumping into things with both feet before really looking at the whole picture. But you're more laid-back. I feel like I can tease you now and you won't go storming off into a rage." He took a breath and his tongue rapidly darted out to moisten his lips. "And of course you're much better looking now." He was taking a chance with that one. He still wasn't sure how attached Potter was to his boyfriend.

"What?" Potter was struggling to find his bearings again. A satisfied glow settled over Draco's skin at the blush growing on the cheeks across from him.

"Come now Potter, you must know what you look like. No one would be able to pull a boyfriend like the one you've got without being fairly attractive." Draco was interested in how Potter would respond. Would he admit that he thought himself attractive, deny it, or return the compliment to Draco? He was hoping for the later, but as usual, Potter had to go and throw expectations out the window.

"I'm sorry about what he said to you. It was completely unwarranted. And for the record, he's not my boyfriend. That was our first date."

Oh. This changes everything. Draco tried very hard to contain his glee. He stared down at his glass and bit the inside of his lip hard enough to create a small cut. He laved the wound with the tip of his tongue before responding.

"Apology accepted." The man that had accompanied Potter to Grimmauld Place wasn't his boyfriend after all. And he'd felt that Draco was worthy of an apology for his behavior. That was more than he'd expected at this early stage, if at all.

I'm curious how far he'll let me go though…

"First date, eh? Seems like you two make short work of things."

"Tim is a little…enthusiastic." Draco was rewarded with an eye-roll.

Completely pleased now, he laughed. "I'd say. But don't tell me you don't like it."

Potter suddenly appeared troubled. "I," his words trailed off. Draco fought the urge to encourage him on but let him find the right words. "It's complicated."

And why is that?

His next words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them. He just didn't like seeing Potter's face so distressed. "It doesn't have to be," Draco said quietly.

"How so?"

Draco sighed. He wasn't really prepared for the turn this conversation had taken. "Either you're attracted to him or you're not. And if you are, and his personality is enough to match yours, then that should be it, end of."

The twist in Draco's stomach told him that he was hoping that Potter would find his personality match in someone else. Preferably the blond that currently sat across from him.

Potter nodded and then shortly announced that he needed to go since it was getting late. He refused Draco's offer to walk him to the front door and stated that he'd be fine in reaching it himself.

So Draco sat and stared at the fire for long moments after Potter left. He was sure he'd given the other man lots to think about. What he really hadn't anticipated was doing some thinking of his own.