AN: This was done for The Hex Files September challenge. Look at what happens when there is an insanely slow weekend at work! I finish fics! Anyway, onward!

"What do you mean Malfoy is Mr. September?"

"That's right; just take a look at this!" Ron thrust a well-thumbed copy of the September issue of Witch Weekly into Harry's hands, and Draco Malfoy's smirk stared back at him. Harry appeared dumbstruck and Malfoy's picture winked saucily.

"I know. Shocking, isn't it! When I first saw it, the only think I could say was 'bloody hell!'" Ron glared at the offending magazine as if it had done him a personal offence. "Can you believe that stupid wanker?"

"Why does this look like it's been read more times than the Hogwarts copy of Quidditch through the Ages?" Harry finally found his voice, although it was somewhat strangled. "And why do you have it?" Ron's cheeks coloured.

"Er, well Hermione saw it, and she said that she wanted to know what the ferrety git has been up to recently—"

"Hermione did not use the words 'ferrety git,' did she?" Harry eyed Ron skeptically.

"Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating a tad. But the general idea is just that."

"Right. But that still doesn't explain why you have it. I don't see Hermione around here anywhere." Harry made a show of looking around.

"Well, I stole it from her. She just kept looking through it over and over again, and blimey, sometimes it was frightening the way she looked when she was… looking!"

Harry tried to stifle his laughter at Ron's indignation but lost control at the last moment. Ron shot a glare at Harry.

"Don't tell me that you're jealous of some pictures of Malfoy," Harry snorted.

"Yeah, you didn't see the way some of those photos looked at her. It was obscene!" Ron muttered. Harry shook his head and patted Ron on his shoulder.

"Do you want me to get rid of it for you?" Harry asked consolingly, holding his hand out for the magazine.

"I'm capable of throwing away a magazine, thank you," Ron shot back.

"Yes," Harry wheedled, "but it seems that Hermione may be attached to this particular magazine. If it goes missing, she'll ask you about it. You know that you can't lie to her, and then she'll get upset. Do you really want that on your head?"

"Well…" Ron hesitated.

"And," Harry continued, "if you weren't afraid of what she'd say or do, why do you still have it? If you were willing to get rid of it yourself, then you would have. Come on, give it over."

"You make a convincing case, mate," Ron grinned, handing it over to Harry, who took it and stashed it rolled up in one of his back pockets.

"I'm only looking out for your well-being."

"…Right. Are you still coming over to dinner on Sunday?"

"Wouldn't miss it. Should I bring anything?"

"A date would be nice."

Harry scowled darkly at Ron, who held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay. Sorry. How about some wine?"

"I think I can handle that," Harry said, his fierce expression softening.

"I don't see why you can't handle a date," Ron replied.

"Let's not get into this right now, Ron. I don't want to have to hex your balls off," Harry threatened.

Ron's hand automatically started to move to cover his crotch, but he held it firmly at his side. "I'll thank you not to, you sadist."

"You keep asking for it, what with this talk of dates," Harry retorted mildly.

"What's the problem? You could get anyone you wanted!"

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Harry shrugged.

Ron misinterpreted Harry's statement. "It's your own fault that you waited so long to get back together with Ginny that she got together with Dean instead."

"Ron, I'm over that. I'm quite happy that she's settled down and having children." Harry reassured his best friend.

"I'm glad to hear it, but—"

"I don't want to talk about it." Harry's tone made it final.

"Fine. See you Sunday?"

"Sunday."

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Harry went home and tossed the wrinkled magazine onto his dining room table while he made himself some tea. As soon as he set the kettle on the stove to boil, he took his mug with a teabag placed in it and sat heavily in one of the chairs.

At first he just looked at the cover of the magazine incredulously. It advertised things such as 'What every witch thinks every wizard loves, and the truth behind those myths,' 'Ten recipes that will tantalize your taste buds,' and 'Celebrity Sightings – close encounters with The Weird Sisters, Harry Potter, and more!'

What caught his attention, however, was the feature written in big, bold letters to the left of Malfoy's chest – 'Draco Malfoy reveals five secrets about himself!', and in smaller writing below that, 'The most eligible bachelor in the UK and Witch Weekly's Mr. September talks to us about life, work, and his search for love.' The picture of Malfoy winked at Harry again.

"I can't believe this," Harry muttered. He grabbed the magazine and opened it to the table of contents, searching for Malfoy's article. Once he found it, he opened to the correct page. Before he could begin reading, however, the kettle began whistling. Harry picked himself up and brought the hot water to the table, pouring some into the waiting mug.

With his tea happily steeping to his right, Harry turned his attention to the article. Another picture of Draco smirked up at him from the glossy pages, and Harry scowled. Malfoy was such a showoff, and it irritated him. He let his eyes scan over the words, and he found yet another photo of Malfoy, this one taken during his years at Hogwarts. Harry recognized himself in the background, and wondered where on earth they'd gotten it from. He squinted at the caption under the photo, and snorted. Of course – 'Photo courtesy of Colin Creevey.'

"Story of my life," Harry commented idly before going back to the first page and starting to read the article.

WW: Mister Malfoy, thank you for speaking with me today.

DM: Laughs It's my pleasure. And please, call me Draco.

WW: Certainly, Draco. Shall we get started?

DM: By all means. What would you like to know?

WW: Well, this article is about your five biggest secrets. There's one that I'm sure all our readers are dying to know, but we'll save that one for last. Let's start with… the war. Do you have any secrets about the war you'd like to share with us?

DM: Oh sure, loads of them. I'm sure you'd love to know that I once saved Harry Potter's life.

WW: Really? I would've thought that we all would have heard about something like that!

DM: Oh, but he doesn't know that I did this, and before now I'd never told anyone.

WW: Would you mind sharing how this came about, Draco?

DM: I'd be delighted to. It was near the beginning, when both he and I were seventeen. I'd foolishly believed that being on the Dark Lord's side would save my family from harm, but look at how that turned out. Sighs Anyway, there was one point where we knew that Potter was going to be at a certain place at a specific time. The plan was to Apparate in, grab him, and Apparate back to our secure location. I was to be the scout. When I got there, I saw Potter and… I'm sure you've heard of our volatile rivalry?

WW: It's legendary.

DM: Laughs Yes, well I couldn't help but throw some insults in his direction, force of habit, or so I told the Dark Lord, and he returned in kind. It didn't take long until he was so angry with me that he left, and he avoided the whole situation. Let me tell you, I got punished severely for that stunt. Not long after, I defected.

WW: What a touching story! Why did you decide to help Harry Potter, if I may ask?

DM: I would tell you, but that is something personal that I'd rather not share at this moment.

WW: I understand. Let's move on.

DM: Yes, let's.

WW: Draco, what's your dearest ambition?

DM: I want to be a man of leisure living with the love of my life.

WW: Are you kidding?

DM: I would never joke about something like that.

WW: Who would've thought that Draco Malfoy was a closet romantic?

DM: Yes, it rather does ruin the image, doesn't it? Laughs

WW: I think it makes it better!

DM: Thank you. What's the next question?

WW: Do you have any guilty pleasures that you indulge in?

DM: Of course. I've developed quite the fondness for Muggle brandy, enjoyed with some Belgian chocolate and Bach. Laughs Listen to me, I sound like a stuffy old geezer. I also enjoy action films. Muggles are… quite inventive, considering their magical handicap.

WW: That they are. What's your favorite pastime?

DM: It really depends on what sort of mood I'm in. Sometimes I go out to clubs, sometimes I prefer theatres or museums, and frequently I'll just stay in with a good book.

WW: And favorites?

DM: What, books?

WW: Yes.

DM: Too many to list!

WW: Okay Draco, before we get to the last question, would you mind describing for our readers what you were thinking when you found out you were chosen Witch Weekly's Mr. September.

DM: Oh, I was surprised and pleased. I hadn't even realized that I'd been nominated.

WW: It was an overwhelming landslide. I don't think we've seen any other person get so many nominations, except for Harry Potter, who was last year's Mr. July.

DM: Is that so? We'll I'd like to say thank you to everyone who nominated me, and everyone who voted for me.

WW: We'll pass that along. Now for the final question.

DM: Fire away.

WW: Any secret loves out there you'd like to get out in the open?

DM: Laughs You really know how to prod someone's vulnerable spots, don't you?

WW: It's our specialty. Well?

DM: Quit looking so eager!

WW: I'm sorry! But this was the most frequently asked question about you!

DM: Was it? Well than I shan't disappoint. Yes, I do have a secret… well; we'll call it lust, since I haven't had the opportunity to actually fall in love with this person.

WW: Okay. Who's your secret lust?

DM: Smirks Harry Potter.

WW: Oh my. Really? Are you kidding around?

DM: No, I'm not. I've had a mad crush on him since the middle of the war.

WW: I'm sure that many of our readers will be disappointed with this news, but those of us here at Witch Weekly wish you good luck. Have you told him?

DM: Merlin, no! And I certainly hope that he doesn't read this.

WW: Is that the reason behind the rescue of the noble Mr. Potter?

DM: Flushes

WW: It is!

DM: And he doesn't know. As far as I know, he loathes me.

WW: You should tell him how you feel! You never know what his reaction may be!

DM: Perhaps.

WW: Anyway, that's all the questions I have for you. Thank you for the interview, Draco. And congratulations on becoming Mr. September.

DM: Thank you.

Harry stared at the words on the page, his cooling tea forgotten. He couldn't believe what he'd just read. First the life-saving, and then the lust? But Malfoy hated him!

Well, perhaps not.

"He can't know… No, it doesn't seem that he does. Interesting…" Harry said quietly, grabbing the magazine and leaving his untouched tea in the dining room. He made his way over to the sofa in the living room and sat on one of the arms, rereading the article. A slow smile spread across his face. Harry needed to see Mr. September, and soon.

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Draco Malfoy was enjoying an afternoon of solitude on a bright Thursday when his bell rang. Standing from his lounging position and stretching his limbs, he walked over to the door and answered it.

"Hello, how may I… Potter, what are you doing here?" Draco couldn't help but sound surprised and suspicious. Harry Potter was leaning casually against his door frame and examining his fingernails.

"Hullo Malfoy. I was in the neighborhood without anything to do, so I thought that I would pop by my dear old rival's place for a bit of a visit."

Draco blinked. "I wasn't aware that we were on speaking terms. Or even that you knew where I live. Potter, what's going on here?"

Harry smiled. "Well, I was reading a copy of Witch Weekly the other day—"

"Ladies magazines, Potter? Really…" Draco scoffed condescendingly before his brain caught up with his mouth. His face paled.

"—and I came across a fascinating article all about you. An interview, in fact," Harry continued as if Draco hadn't spoken. Draco bit his lip and Harry's smile widened into a feral grin. "That article said some pretty interesting things, Malfoy. Were any of them true?"

Draco licked his lips and refused to meet Harry's eyes, his cockiness suddenly replaced with bashfulness. "I certainly didn't lie, Potter."

Harry pushed himself upright and reached out to Draco's face, turning it to look at him. The expression he wore was positively possessive, a contrast to Draco's faint embarrassment. "Good."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise a moment before Harry leaned in to kiss him, the hand used to turn his head now cupping his face. Draco's eyes slid shut automatically, and Harry took the last step forward to bring their bodies flush. Harry poked his tongue at Draco's lips, and they parted, letting Harry explore the moist depths of his mouth. The invading tongue made a cursory sweep through, barely lingering, and then withdrawing back into Harry's mouth, inviting Draco to reciprocate if he'd like. Draco did, with only a small amount of hesitation, doing a much more thorough job than Harry did.

With a quiet noise in the back of his throat, Harry separated his face from Draco's drawing in a deep breath and looking him in the eye.

"May I come in?" he asked with an impish grin. Draco flushed from his lack of manners and the realization that he had snogged Harry Potter in plain view of anyone walking by.

"Of course," he replied, stepping aside to allow Harry into his flat. Harry strode in and looked around appreciatively.

"I had quite the time finding out where you live, you know. Those girls over at Witch Weekly wouldn't tell me, no matter what they said in that interview about supporting you in your – what was it? – secret lust. 'I'm sorry Mr. Potter,' they said, 'but Mr. Malfoy asked us not to divulge his personal information to anyone.' Feh." Harry shook his head. "After two hours of pointless asking, I finally had to call in a favor with the Ministry."

"Well, those girls were trustworthy after all," Draco smirked. Harry glared at him. "What? I had no idea that you actually read that rag. I just didn't want hoards of letters from overeager females. Or howlers from angry ones."

"I don't read it, Hermione does," Harry pointed out. "Since the middle of the war, eh?" he asked after a short silence.

"Well, I may have stretched the truth on that one a smidgen," Draco admitted.

"What's 'stretched'?"

"I've fancied you since… the summer after our sixth year," Draco said with a sheepish smile. Before Harry could reply with anything, though, he added more. "And don't you even think about mocking me for this, Potter. Malfoys don't do 'unrequited' very well."

Harry held up his hand. "Wasn't going to say a thing."

"So what about yourself? I refuse to believe that you read an article and suddenly decided that you want to track down and snog your bitterest rival in a fit of spontaneity." Draco folded his arms across his chest.

"No, it was more a case of me getting drunk and being dared to find you and snog the daylights out of you…" Harry trailed off when he saw Draco's unamused stare. "Okay, I've had a thing for you since sixth year. I was quite obsessed, you know."

"Yes, I think I can recall that. Even though I broke your nose, petrified you, left you to drown in your own blood, and mocked you. And that was just on the train to school." Draco shook his head. "You must be a masochist."

"I prefer to think of that time as you expressing your attraction to me in a very primary school way."

Draco laughed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Potter."

"Please, call me Harry," Harry requested shyly.

"Only if you call me Draco," Draco countered.

"That can be arranged." They both smiled.

There was an amiable silence where both men looked at each other without reservation. It ended when Draco moved to stand next to Harry. He grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it slightly. Harry squeezed back. Draco half-smiled and leaned over to kiss Harry, picking up where they left off.

Soft moans and smacking sounds were the only noises heard in the flat for a long while. Draco took control of the situation, leading Harry to his bedroom after Harry unexpectedly slid his hand beneath the waistband of Draco's trousers, earning him a groan. When they reached the doorway to Draco's bedroom, Harry pulled his lips from Draco's.

"Wait, before we start going at it like rabbits, I have something to ask you."

Draco started kissing Harry's neck. Soft, openmouthed ones over his pulse point. "Make it quick," he growled, frotting against Harry's leg subtly.

"Will you be my date on Sunday for a dinner party at Ron and Hermione's?"

Draco stilled and slid his eyes up to meet Harry's. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "Please?"

"What about the Weaselette?"

"She's married and expecting a child," Harry said matter-of-factly. Draco mouthed the word 'oh.'

"They hate me, you know," Draco pointed out.

"They'll get over it."

"Why not"? Draco said after a moment taken to think.

Harry grinned.

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"Harry! Glad you could make it!" Hermione's voice sounded excited, and Harry couldn't help but smile.

"As if I would be anywhere else, Hermy," Harry said, handing a bottle of wine to her.

"Don't call me that," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Sorry."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Come in! Most everyone is here already." She tried to usher Harry into the house, but he held his ground.

"Hermione, hold on one moment. Is there enough for one more? I sort of brought someone…" Harry blushed brightly.

"Blimey Harry, you brought a date? Where is she?" Ron's voice butted in from behind his wife, who turned to glare at him.

"Ronald, go back into the sitting room and entertain the guests!"

"Sorry love, just curious about who was at the door. So who'd you bring, Harry?"

"Guys, I'd like you to meet—" Harry dragged Draco from his hiding spot to stand in front of his best friends, a wicked grin splitting his face, "—Mr. September."