A/N: Again. Fluffy. Cute. But it has a (sorta) plot this time! It's post-war, and Harry has flash backs. Slight humor but mostly just boy-looove. :P

"Get away from me! I'll kill you, I swear!"

It wasn't the words that scared Harry so much. Instead, it was the unsteady shriek of Draco's voice, that wavering contempt that seemed to come and go. It made Harry back up, a step taken in surprise and sadness, as if something had pushed him and then punched him in the gut.

Draco waits for a reply from the smaller boy, his breathing unsteady. The wand Harry had been using, Draco's wand, is laying uselessly on the floor, yards away from him. Draco's hand, despite himself, is shaking. "Stay away," he says again, attempting to sound strong and ruthless, but failing miserably when his voice cracks.

Harry doesn't even try to speak. He doesn't try to walk towards the blond boy, his platinum hair falling into his eyes in an un-cut, tangled mess. They stand there for a long time, Draco's wand raised, Harry's hands straight to his sides - just staring at each other.

Wondering.

"Draco-"

With a swift movement of his wand and eyes, Draco shouts, "Avada kedavra!"

Harry gasps awake, clutching at his blankets and getting tangled in them as he kicks and tries to escape; from what, he himself doesn't know. "Draco!" he shouts, right before falling off the bed in a heap of sheets and limbs.

Once he calms down enough to sit up, he scans his surroundings, eyes wide. He realizes he's in Grimmauld Place, his home, and instantly begins to breathe again, letting go of the breath he didn't know he was holding. He stands, shakily, and grabs his glasses off of his night stand, walking cautiously out of his room - well, Sirius' old room.

The house is much too big for one man and one house elf, this Harry knows, but he refuses to move in with Hermione and Ron, like they offered. He didn't really want to hear them shagging in the middle of the night, anyways.

His mind wanders back to his dream as he starts a fire in the fire place with a quick Incendio. He sits down, wrapping a blanket around himself and staring into the placing fire. Draco, is all he can think, and, with a sigh, he closes his eyes, leaning his head against the couch.

Ever since the War ended, Harry has been having dreams - recurring dreams. Especially about a certain blonde, and Harry doesn't know why. He dreams of Sirius dying, over and over, and Dumbledore. But he dreams of Draco saving his life the most.

"Why'd you save me, Draco?" Harry whispers into the blanket, pulling it up around his face. "Why didn't you just let that Death Eater kill me?

"Come on, Potter, move!" Draco shouts as Harry whips around, only to find a Death Eater laying behind him, a look of shock imprinted on his face. Harry blinks before running over and grabbing Draco's wand, gripping it firmly in his hands.

"Are you coming, dimwit?" Draco demands, glaring an icy glare that is made purely of annoyance and lacks any contempt whatsoever.

Harry looks up at him and swallows before giving a curt nod and running towards him. He follows Draco towards the Forbidden Forest, but is pushed out of the way by somebody, behind a barrier.

Ginny is clutching onto him, sobbing "Fred is dead!" she cries into his shoulder.

Harry can feel shock take over his expression, but he quickly swallows it; emotions later. He has a war to fight. He wraps his arms around Ginny and looks over at Draco, who is impatiently waiting for him. "Ginny," Harry says softly, "I have to go..."

She looks up at him, and then glances at Draco. Shock and anger takes over her face before she whips out her wand at points it at the Malfoy. "Stupi-"

Harry quickly grabs her wand away. "No, Ginny, it's okay," he assures her. Harry glances at Draco before saying, "He saved me."

Ginny doesn't bother hiding her shock. "What?" she asks in bewilderment. "No... he's a Death Eater, Harry! Have you gone mad?"

"We don't have time to waste on this," Draco snaps. "I know where Voldemort is right now. He's with Severus in the Shrieking Shack, and we might be able to catch him there if we hurry."

Ginny shakes her head. "This is a trap, Harry."

Harry alternates glances between the two. "It's worth a shot," he tells her.

She sighs, knowing she won't be able to otherwise. "Be safe," she commands before kissing him deeply.

"We have places to be, Weaselette!" Draco says as he grabs Harry's arm, pulling him away. "Come on, now! We don't have much time!"

Harry can't help but feel now that Draco pulled him away from Ginny not because they needed to get there quickly, but, instead, because he didn't want Harry to be kissing Ginny.

Ginny and Harry have long since broken up with each other, realizing that their attraction and "love" for one another was mostly sibling-like, and not romantic or sexual. Harry still values Ginny as a friend, and finds that he wasn't jealous when he found out her and Theodore Nott are now dating. Ron wasn't too happy, though.

"What is Master Harry doing up?"

Harry turns around to see Kreacher standing behind him, looking not malicious, but tired. Harry attempts a smile. "I just couldn't sleep," Harry replies, turning back to the fire. "You can go back to bed, Kreacher."

"This is when Kreacher usually gets up, Master Harry," Kreacher informs him. "Would Master Harry like some breakfast?"

Harry looks at his watch. "Kreacher, it's four in the morning."

"Kreacher knows."

Harry frowns before shaking his head. "No, not right now. Thank you, though," Harry tells Kreacher before he trudges off to the kitchen, mumbling to himself about knowing the time.

Harry snuggles up in his blanket again and gets lost in the fire once more.

"Malfoy," Harry pants as he follows the older boy through the thick bush of the Forbidden Forest. "I thought we were going to the Shrieking Shack."

"I have to ask you something first." Draco turns around, not out of breath at all, compared to Harry. "Here, drink this - it'll heal your wounds." When Harry eyes the potion Draco pulled out of his pocket skeptically, Draco rolls his eyes and says, "It's not poison, Potter, get over yourself."

Harry takes it and downs it with one gulp, waiting for the poison to set in. The blonde takes the vial back and says, "Look. My father has my mother held captive and says the only way he'll release her injury free is if I give him you."

"So you want me to surrender myself to your father?"

"No. I want to give you to him." Draco sighs, and rubs his temples. "Potter, I know I shouldn't be asking this of you right now. But I honestly need your help. You seem to have no problem helping people, so why not help me when I ask for it?"

Harry's cheeks are aflame - Draco's mentioning The Incident. They swore (maybe not in words) to never again speak of The Incident. It was an agreement, between the cold steel grey of Draco's eyes and the fiery emerald green of Harry's, that they would never even dare to think about it.

"Alright," Harry tells him, nodding his head like a bobble head. "Yeah. But I'm going to be able to get out, right? You have a plan?"

Draco's face breaks into an arrogant grin and he leans in towards Harry, saying, "Of course I do. I'm a Slytherin, after all; I don't just don't do things by impulse like you emotional Gryffindors."

Harry gets up from the couch, letting his blanket fall from his body onto the floor. He decides to get a glass of firewhiskey, the fancy stuff that Seamus bought for him for his eighteenth birthday. Hermione disapproved but seemed to ease up after a couple of drinks, and Ron loved the gift. Now he only has half of the large bottle left, and is going to put it to good use.

"Is it healthy for Master Potter to be drinking firewhiskey so early in the morning?" Kreacher asks when he sees Harry reaching for the firewhiskey in the cupboard.

Harry looks back at him. "Well, it could also be 'so late at night,' depending on how you look at it."

Kreacher tilts his head ever so slightly before looking back at the counter he's scrubbing. Harry gets a glass from the cupboard, also, and brings it upstairs to his room. He still hasn't found a way to get rid of the provocative posters of girls that Sirius left behind, since the sticking charm is top-notch, so he's since gotten used to them; not as if he cares for looking at them, anyways.

So Harry lays in bed, drinking firewhiskey.

"I brought him, Father."

Harry glares at the ground. Why, exactly, did he agree to this again? He was probably disoriented from Draco mentioning The Incident. Now, his hands are bound together, his wand - or, Draco's wand, that is - in Draco's pocket, along with what Draco said to be a random Death Eater's.

"Marvelous." Harry glares at the pearly teeth he sees behind Lucius Malfoy's lips. It seems his teeth are the only clean part of him, though; messy long hair and a dirty body. Not to mention a rotten soul.

Draco, for good measure, throws Harry onto the ground, by Lucius' feet. "Now let me see her, bastard," he commands, sounding even more bitter than usual, his voice full of contempt.

Lucius wags his finger at Draco. "Oh, no, my dear Draco. First, I hand Harry over to the Dark Lord. Then you'll get your precious mother back; just so I can make sure this wasn't a little scheme to trick me."

Harry scowls at his own stupidity. Of course Lucius Malfoy couldn't be this easily fooled. He's a Slytherin; a sly, cunning Slytherin, and, as much as he hates to admit it, they're not idiots. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath.

Draco grabs Harry up off the ground, not saying a word and keeping his eyes on his solitary father. Where's your mother, Draco? Harry wonders, looking around.

They trudged through the Forbidden Forest, heading towards who-knows-where - heading towards You-Know-Who, most likely. And Harry can't ask Draco if he has a plan for this, because Lucius will surely hear, and then they'll be screwed.

Harry doesn't know why he's helping Draco. Maybe he never will.

Just then, they reach a clearing, where Lord Voldemort stands at the edge, his Death Eaters surrounding him. He looks around, alert, as if he can feel Harry is to enter the clearing; his snake-like nose and red, piercing eyes disgust Harry, chill him to the bone.

Draco harshly pushes Harry into the small clearing, and Harry wonders for a moment if Draco has any intent of saving him - after all, he is a Slytherin. He could've easily tricked Harry, especially in a place of vulnerability.

Voldemort's eyes, if possible, seem to light up. A grin takes over his terribly gray face, and he says, "Lucius. You brought him."

Harry looks up, to all the Death Eaters surrounding Lord Voldemort, and notices, in the mix, is Narcissa Malfoy, standing right next to her sister, Bellatrix. A sudden realization takes over both Harry and Draco - she was never held captive to begin with.

Lucius is standing brightly in front of Voldemort, smiling proudly. "My Lord." He bows. Lucius grabs Harry and pulls him up.

"Very good," Voldemort praises as he steps towards Harry. "Hello, Harry. Have you enjoyed the Battle so far? I know I have."

Harry stares into the eyes of the ruthless murderer of his parents and spits, "Fuck off."

Voldemort's eyes narrow before he slaps Harry across the face, leaving a red mark on his cheek. "Speak to me with respect, filthy half-blood!"

"You seem to be forgetting that you're a filthy half-blood, too, Tom," Harry replies angrily, trying to lash out. "Still playing pretend with your little followers? Where's the tiara and princess gown?"

Draco hides a snort, and, luckily, nobody notices, their attention focused keenly on the Boy Who Dared To Speak To Their Lord Like That.

"Potter, don't you dare speak to the Dark Lord like that! The greatest dark wizard of his time! No - of all time!"

Harry rolls his eyes at this.

"Silence!" Voldemort commands. Lucius instantly cowers, backing away from Harry and his Lord. Voldemort steps closer to Harry nose to - scratch that.

"Well, I guess," Harry muses. "But you're just a tad bit less menacing than Grindewald. Plus, him and Dumbledore had a fair fight. With you, there's nothing fair about it. You cheated your way through, with others doing your bidding! I wouldn't call you the greatest dark wizard alive. I would call you a coward."

Kreacher opens the door to Harry's room, where he's lying, drunken on the bed. "Kreacher heard Master Potter mumbling and came to check on him," Kreacher says cautiously.

"Oh, no, I'm... I'm... what's the word?" Harry muses as he takes another drink of firewhiskey, straight from the bottle - Seamus was very generous with this gift... "Oh, yes. I'm fine. Completely fine. You don't have to worry about me, Dobby."

Kreacher frowns. "Kreacher is not Dobby! Kreacher is Kreacher!" Kreacher narrows his eyes and tilts his head up slightly. "Kreacher thinks there is something wrong with Master Potter. Kreacher will Floo Mistress Granger."

"No!" Harry cries, flailing out of his bed and landing on the floor, effectively spilling some of his firewhiskey. "Shit!" He pouts at the bottle before looking at Kreacher again. "I'm fine, really, Kreacher. Leave me be, please."

Kreacher nods, mumbling to himself, something about hiding the whiskey and wine, before walking out of the room, closing it behind him.

"Crucio!"

Harry writhed in pain on the damp forest floor, sticks and twigs scraping against his skin, the feeling of white hot knives being stabbed into his body overwhelming. He can't see anything in his blurred vision, other than the unclear figure of Voldemort standing above him.

He cried out in pain, curling himself up into a ball.

"EXPELIARMUS!"

The Elder Wand goes flying out of Voldemort's hand, and lands on the ground far away from him. Everything is silent for a moment.

And then all hell breaks loose.

Bellatrix screams in fury, and Harry finally breathes a breath of pure relief, and looks up to find Draco dropping a wand on Harry's chest. "Get up and fight, dammit!"

Harry stands, still a bit disoriented and shaky, before casting a pretego to protect himself. "Draco," Harry breathes, wanting to thank the boy, but having to catch his breath before he can do so.

Draco doesn't even have time to be bewildered that Harry used his given name. "Tell me later!" he shouts as he casts different curses at random Death Eaters; he notices, though, that he's working his way towards Narcissa.

"Kill Lucius' boy! Kill him now! Leave Potter for me!" he bellows at the top of his lungs, leaving no space for air in between the orders he gives his Death Eaters.

Harry's breath catches in his throat, and he realizes that their terrible out-numbered; they need to get away, now.

As if his prayers had been answered, he spots Narcissa in the middle of the crowd of fighting Death Eaters. She nods at him before pointing her wand at a tree, and shouting what can only be made out as, "Bombarda maxima!"

A large explosion pierces the air, and a large crack is heard, followed by the tree that Narcissa had cast the spell at falling in between Harry and Draco and the Death Eaters.

"Let's go!" Harry shouts, running over to Draco, grabbing him by the arm, and Apparating without a second thought.

Suddenly, Harry and Draco are flying, and Harry can hardly make out any screams from Draco over his own. Then they're lying in what appears to be the Shrieking Shack, both breathing hard.

"Fuck, fuck, shit," Draco pants, clutching his splinched arm. "God dammit, Potter, did you even take your fucking Apparation test?!"

"I-I-I..."

"DON'T YOU KNOW A SINGLE FUCKING HEALING SPELL, YOU IDIOT?!"

Harry instantly uses a healing spell or two on Draco's arm, but they don't work very well; they work well enough to numb Draco for a couple of minutes until he can get the potion from his pocket that will heal it up, mostly.

He can't move his arm very well, though, so Harry tears his t-shirt in order to make some sort of sling for Draco's right arm - which meant he won't be able to use a wand for a while.

"Damn," Draco mutters at his arm, glaring at the floor as Harry zips up his jacket in order to cover up his now t-shirt-less torso. "Damn. He tricked me. How could he trick me?"

"That's what I often think about you," Harry blurts, mostly from the relief that Draco is alright - wait. Why is he relieved? He doesn't care about Draco...

Draco doesn't respond. "I can't use a wand without my right hand," Draco tells Harry, looking up at him. "I'm not useful to your cause anymore. So go on - go defeat Voldemort and all the other things that the prophecy told you to do."

"Draco! I'm not going to leave you here," Harry tells him, kneeling down by him. "I mean - of course I mean Malfoy."

Malfoy smirks. "Starting to get soft for me? Or, shall I say, hard?"

Harry blushes and never had he felt so uncomfortable around the blonde. Plus, his pink, full lips seem to be right there, his for the taking...

Harry stands up and coughs awkwardly, turning around. "Come on, Draco. Quit this pity party. We have a War to fight."

Something in Draco's eyes light up and he replies, "I guess we do… Harry."

Harry curls up on the floor and frowns at the firewhiskey. It was the first time that Draco had called him Harry - he thinks, anyways. He can't quite recall if the blonde had ever called him anything other than Potter or dimwit or idiot.

Harry decides that, something must be done about this. That was their last encounter during the War, when Draco finally stood and decided just to fight with his left hand. He stood by the Light after that; Harry would never again call Draco Malfoy a coward.

He stumbles out the door of his room, firewhiskey in hand, and walks to the library, where an empty fireplace sits. He starts a fire with his wand (he nearly misses and destroys a thousand years' worth of Black family history), and then throws Floo powder into the fireplace, shouting/slurring, "Draco Malfoy!"

He looks into the fire, leaning down. When he finally sees Draco's annoyed face appear, he smiles. "Hi, Draco!" he calls, shouting into the fire. "Long time, no see!"

Draco raises an eyebrow. "What are you doing, Potter?" he asks. "And why are you shouting? Merlin, why are you Flooing me at six-thirty in the bloody morning?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Harry told him simply, before nearly wobbling into the fire. "Well, I need to talk to you. About the War. And things that happened. Like The Incident."

Draco looks confused. "What's The Incident?"

"You know... in the Room of Requirement?"

Draco's confusion is switched out for amusement, and he looks like he's about to chuckle. "You call me three years after the War wanting to talk about it? Alright. I'll be right over." And, with that, the Floo connection is broken, and Harry sits on the floor, waiting with his bottle of firewhiskey in his lap.

When Draco steps in, he nearly trips over Harry, looking bewildered at the man. "What are you doing on the floor?" he asks, almost demanding. "Oh, Merlin, Potter... are you drunk?"

"Why, nothing gets past you, Mr. Draco!" Harry hiccups, giggling as he falls onto the floor. "Oh, I'm a riot..."

Draco shakes his head. "I'm going home."

Harry clutches onto Draco's ankle desperately. "No! Don't leave! I want to talk to you!"

Draco looks down at Harry and sighs. "Talk, then."

Harry blinks a couple of times. "So. We were in the Room of Requirements, and I found you crying, and I tried to help you, but you said you didn't want help but I helped you anyways and we ended up-"

"Yes, yes, we ended up almost kissing. Keyword: almost. Anything else you may be missing?"

Harry frowns. "Um. I don't think so... But, anyways, I had a dream last night and - we were fighting in the War. You know everything that happened, you were there, dammit... And... And..."

"I haven't got all day."

"Shut the fuck up and listen to me!" Harry snaps. "Merlin, Draco, you're so pushy. Anyways, I was thinking... about you..." Harry himself doesn't quite know where he's going with this. "Dammit, I lost my point... see what you do to me, Draco?"

Draco gives him a look. "I don't see anything that I do to you, Potter, but I've noticed you've started drinking."

"Oh. How rude of me. Would you like a drink?" Harry offers him the bottle, and Draco stares at him incredulously.

"Really? Really, Potter? I don't drink."

Harry stands. "C'mon, lighten up, have a drink… don't be a pussy."

"Language, Potter," Draco warns before taking the bottle away from him. "Enough of this, now. I'm getting you to bed before you can do anything else to offend me or the rest of the world. Or Fanfiction."

"Fanfiction?" Harry's confused.

Draco shakes his head as he takes Harry by the elbows from the back and begins to steer him out of the library. "Never mind. Now, where's your room, Potter?"

Harry has to think about this. "Um. It's the one with the girls in bikinis lying on cars. And that one with the girl who looks like her bra is going to burst off."

"What?" Draco glares at Harry. "Why do you have those pictures up in your room?" he demands as he leads Harry towards the room he described. When he sees it, he gets even more angry.

"This used to be Sirius' room," Harry hiccups. "He put them up."

"Why haven't you taken them down, then?" Draco crosses his arms, not liking the feeling of jealousy. "I cannot believe you, Harry Potter. And here I thought…" He trails off before shaking his head and saying, "Lay down."

Harry obeys, laying in the bed happily. "I don't even care about the posters, Draco," Harry informs him. "I don't like girls, anyways. I guess I've always liked blokes, you know, like I was born liking them. I guess that's why I never went that far with Ginny or Cho – then again, Cho was kind of crazy…"

"I didn't come here to inquire you about your sexual orientation," Draco sighs. "I came here to talk to you."

"And that's what we're doing."

"Yes, but not about what I was lead to believe we were going to talk about," Draco snaps. "I have places to be, things to do…"

"Like that slut Astoria Greengrass?"

Draco shakes his head. "That's just offensive, Potter. I don't 'do' Astoria, and she's not a 'thing.' I make love. Obviously, you wouldn't know this, since you have absolutely no class at all."

"Now whose the emotional Gryffindor?" Harry mocks, stuffing his face into his pillow, causing his voice to become muffled. "Stupid Slytherin…"

"What's wrong with you, Potter? Why were you drinking?"

"Because I wanted to, dammit!" Harry sits up. "When can I do what I want? When will I be able to break away from everybody's expectations and be able to be me, not the Boy Who Lived or the Chosen One?"

Draco listens quietly through this, his face not giving anything away. "No need to shout, you could've just said so," he replies with a shrug. "Now, I must be going. You should probably get a couple more hours of sleep before preparing for the day ahead of you." He digs in his pocket for something. "And a hangover potion; just so that you can fool your friends." He tosses it to Harry before walking out of the room.

And, with that, Harry passed out.

Harry wakes up a few hours later, wondering what went on; but he remembers when his head starts to pound and he feels like throwing up.

The potion vial on his bed reminds him that, yes, Draco was here, and they did discuss the fact that Harry's gay, something nobody other than Professor Dumbledore knew. He blushes at the thought before closing his eyes and downing the potion.

Surprisingly, Draco has a way of making the nastiest potions taste wonderful.

"Is Master Harry awake?" Kreacher opens the door to the room, stepping in. "Kreacher made Mast Harry dinner," he adds when he sees that Harry's sitting up.

"Oh." Harry nods. "Thanks, Kreacher. I'll be right down."

Kreacher leaves, seemingly pleased that Harry no longer seems to be acting strangely, and Harry gets up and dresses. He thinks about his conversation with Draco, and how he ought to call him again; and apologize for drunk Flooing. It was a terrible mistake that he hopes to never let happen again.

When Harry gets downstairs, he realizes that Kreacher isn't the only one here besides him – Ron and Hermione await him in the kitchen, and he knows, because he can hear bickering all the way from the stairs.

"Ronald, don't eat that! It's rude to eat things in other people's houses without their permission!" Hermione scolds, and a small smack can be heard, as if she had just smacked his hand away from something.

"C'mon!" Ron whines. "It's Harry we're talking about! We're best mates! He won't care!"

Harry walks into the kitchen, and Ron instantly grins at him. "Let's ask right now!" he declares, holding out a cookie jar. "Harry, will you care if I have one of these delicious Muggle cookies of yours?"

"Not at all," Harry replies. "But may I ask what you two are doing here?" It's only then that he notices that Hermione's wearing a dress and Ron's in dress robes. "And why are you dressed like that?"

"Harry James Potter! Did you forget about the party today? Oh, of course, that's just like you!"

Ron sits a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "'Mione, calm down. It's okay that he forgot, it happens to the best of us," he says soothingly, and Hermione seems to calm down almost instantly; Harry can't hide the fact that he's amazed.

"Go get into your dress robes, Harry," Hermione commands. "We have to go soon."

"Tonight we celebrate that, three years ago today, Lord Voldemort came to an end! All thanks to Harry Potter, the Chosen One!"

Everybody claps at Harry, and he forces a smile; of course he's only known as the Chosen One, or the Boy Who Lived. Just as he was telling Draco.

It's a magnificent party held in the Ministry of Magic; people have cause to celebrate, after all. Even the house elves are wearing nice clothes, instead of rags. Everybody is greeting Harry, even some he had never met, as if he's an old friend.

"Harry! Harry Potter!" Narcissa Malfoy makes her way through the crowd with a large smile on her face. "Harry Potter. How nice to see you."

"You too, Mrs. Malfoy," he replies. He can't help but ask, "Did Draco come?"

"Why, yes," Narcissa answers. She seems very composed, especially with her husband's receiving the Dementor's kiss less than a month ago. "I believe he's with Astoria – you've heard the news of their engagement, correct? Wonderful, just wonderful!"

Harry feels sick. "Oh. Engagement. How nice," he says, faking enthusiasm. "Um, I have to go find Ron. It was nice seeing you, Mrs. Malfoy."

"And you, too, Mr. Potter," Narcissa says in that high-pitched, much too polite voice.

And, with that, Harry takes off through the crowd, looking for a distraction; he doesn't want to think about The Incident, or his talk with Draco this morning, or the War. He doesn't want to think about anything. He just wants to forget.

Ron is with Hermione, holding her hand as she drags him across the ballroom in order to speak with random rich Wizarding families about S.P.E.W.; Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Although, Harry's pretty sure that the Malfoys won't be too happy about that.

"Oh, Potter. I see you're feeling better."

Harry whips around and forces himself not to curse. Draco is standing there, Astoria nowhere to be found, his hands in his pockets and hair slicked back; just not as severely as he did when he was younger. Now it's just slightly, with a couple strands falling onto his forehead.

Harry can't help but notice how… nicely his black dress robes… fit him…

They're clinging to all the right places, he thinks painfully before looking away and biting his lip.

"Yeah. Thanks for the potion. Earlier. This morning." Harry shifts awkwardly, still avoiding the other man's eyes.

Draco nods. "Yes. It was the least I could do, considering you passed out just as I left. I felt sorry for you."

Harry's cheeks, for some reason, start to feel hot. "Um…"

"Not to insult the Boy Who Lived, Defeater of Lord Voldemort." He smirks. "But, most of all, I hope I didn't insult you."

Harry feels more embarrassed as ever; he has admitted to Draco this morning that he feels like nobody sees him as Harry, but instead as the Boy Who Lived or the Chosen One.

"Draco! Where have you been?" A young lady with chocolaty brown hair and piercing hazel eyes appears next to Draco, looking up at him. "I was talking to Daphne and you disappeared!"

"Oh, Astoria." He puts an arm around her waist and smiles – actually smiles – at Harry. "Astoria, dear, meet Harry, my ex-archrival. Harry, meet Astoria, my fiancée."

Harry nods, trying to hide his jealousy. "Nice to meet you."

Astoria claps. "Oh! You're Harry Potter! Savior of the Wizarding World!" she says, looking thrilled. "Well, Draco said he knew you, but I didn't think he was telling the truth."

"Mm. Understandable. Draco here has a way of deceiving people," Harry says coolly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go." Without another word, Harry whips around and barges through the crowd.

Don't tell me you actually thought he liked you! the voice inside of Harry cries, the Slytherin side. Oh, you emotional Gryffindor. A man like Draco could never like a boy like you.

Harry knows the Slytherin side of him is right. He knows that he was foolish for ever thinking that Draco and him could put aside their differences and be together; he shakes his head, as if trying to shake it out of his mind. I'm so stupid.

"Harry! Oi, Harry, get over here!"

Harry turns to Andromeda Tonks, who has a four-year-old Teddy Lupin in her arms. "I could use your help," she calls, "unless you're too busy being a socialite." The sarcasm is practically dripping from her voice; she must've seen him pushing angrily through the crowd.

He walks over to them and says, "Sure, Andi," ignoring her last sentence. He takes a cranky looking Teddy from her arms and smiles at the four-year-old. "Hey, buddy! I haven't seen you all week. How've you been?"

"I HATE GRANDMA ANDI!" he screams, before beginning to kick viciously in Harry's arms. "She wouldn't let me have the chocolate frog Dwaco gave me!"

Harry is thoroughly amused by now. "Oh, is that so?" Harry asks. "Well, maybe she'll let you have a pumpkin pastry over at the snack table. Andi?" Harry gives her a puppy dog face, which is soon accompanied by Teddy's own pouting look.

She sighs and waves her hand. "Fine, fine. Give me a moment of peace."

"Yay!" Harry sits Teddy down and he begins to run through the people, causing Harry to have to run, too. "Pumpkin pastry, pumpkin pastry, pumpkin pastry!"

"Teddy!" Harry pants. "Wait up! Harry can't run that fast!"

When Harry finally catches up to Teddy, he's frozen in front of a large, dark figure – Professor Severus Snape has never looked so scary, dressed in old-fashioned dress robes from the twentieth century.

"It's a bat!" Teddy screams, running into Harry's arms.

"Teddy, that's not nice," Harry scolds, even though he kind of felt like laughing – and he would've if it wasn't for Snape's intense glare.

Teddy frowns. "But you always say that!" he protests.

Harry goes red and he looks at Snape. "I never—"

"Enough, Mr. Potter," Snape says coolly. "We're not in Hogwarts. It's not like I can take away house points or give you detention."

But I'm still scared shitless of you, Harry thinks before remembering that Snape is a Legilimens.

Snape smirks at a completely red Harry. "How interesting," he murmurs before walking away, swirling his ever-present black cape with a flourish.

"Okay, let's get that pumpkin pastry." Harry decides just to carry Teddy over to the snack table to avoid any more run-ins with people like Snape. But, alas, it can't be prevented – Harry bumps into someone, which sends him back towards a certain blonde.

"Potter, I believe those glasses are of some use to you?" Draco asks, raising an eyebrow; this insult lacks the usual spite in his voice, and Harry finds himself not at all angered.

He smiles lightly. "Yes, they are, Malfoy," he replies. "But I don't believe the extra space in the crotch of your trousers are of use to you?"

Draco raises an eyebrow and smirks before chuckling. "Well played, Potter. Perhaps I could get buy you and Teddy a drink – non-alcoholic, of course. For both of you."

Harry looks at Teddy. "Whaddya say?"

"Nope. I have plans," the four-year-old answers. "Big boy plans. You wouldn't understand."

Harry laughs. "Alright, then. How about we get that pumpkin pastry and then I'll take you back to Grandma Andi?"

A blush comes over the little boy's cheeks. "Um, Hawwy?" He glances nervously at Draco before motioning that he wants to whisper in his ear. Harry leans down, and Teddy whispers quietly, "I need to go potty, Hawwy."

Harry nods, a serious look on his face for Teddy's sake. "Alright, then. Let's go get Grandma Andi."

They find Andromeda by the bar. "… but I love him too much." She sighs as she turns around and sees Teddy again. "Oh, hello, dear." By now, Teddy's dancing around. "Do you need to use the potty?"

He nods, and Andromeda takes his hand. "Thank you, Harry, for the short break," she says to Harry as she begins to walk away. "I'll Floo you tomorrow about babysitting sometime, okay?"

Harry waves goodbye to them before sitting down at the bar. "One firewhiskey, please."

"Oh, no. Bartender, make that two Butterbeers. Harry, here, can't handle his alcohol." Draco sits down next to Harry and smirks at him. "I spotted you over her at the bar and decided to come check on you, considering this morning's events."

"Shut up," Harry mumbles.

Draco sips the Butterbeer the bartender has just sat down. "The Three Broomsticks' will always be better," he comments quietly to Harry. "Probably just the nostalgia, correct?"

Harry tastes the Butterbeer and wrinkles his nose. "This stuff is terribly watered down. I've tasted much better."

Harry can't help but watch Draco lick his lips after another drink – his pink, delicious looking tongue sliding smoothly over his plump lips… He tears his eyes away before he thinks anymore of it. Bad, Harry, bad! He has a fiancée, remember? He doesn't like you!

"Where's Astoria, then?" Harry asks, not looking at Draco.

"I don't know. Probably with her sister." Draco shrugs so casually that you would think that the girl's just an acquaintance from school, not somebody he's going to spend the rest of his life with. "I don't have to know her whereabouts twenty-four-seven."

Harry blinks. "Alright."

So they sit there like that, for a while, before Draco sighs. "Come with me, Potter," he says, walking away from the bar so quickly that Harry almost falls off his stool trying to get up too fast.

"Where are we going?" he asks Draco, a tad concerned. "You're not going to kill me, are you?"

"Please. I've had you alone, in vulnerable states before; I could've done whatever I pleased with you."

Harry blushes, knowing what Draco means. Draco knows Harry's gay, Harry realizes, so obviously he knows what kind of affect he has on Harry – sadistic bastard.

"At least tell me where we're going." Harry's question is soon answered when Draco walks into the quiet hallway, shutting the doors after Harry has entered, also.

"Something's wrong." Draco's words are quick and skeptical; they also slightly shock Harry.

His eyes widen. "What? Where? What do you mean?" He thinks it's something like Death Eaters breaking out of Azkaban, or maybe another dark wizard on the loose.

Draco shakes his head. "You, Potter. You've been acting strange lately. We hadn't talked for months, and you suddenly call me up this morning acting all strange like you just saw me yesterday?"

"I told you. I had… I had a dream." Harry, even though he knows this is mostly the truth, still feels as if he's lying.

"Mm, maybe, but you're not telling me everything," Draco retorts. "I want to know, Potter; it involves me, don't I have a right?"

"Well…"

"Spit it out."

"No. They're my feelings, I can do what I please with them," Harry snaps before he can control himself.

Draco furrows his brow. "Feelings?"

Harry suddenly realizes what he said, and he knows he can't take it back. "I-I didn't mean to say that," he blabbers, backing away from Draco nervously. "I don't have feelings for you, none whatsoever!"

"You're just digging yourself deeper, you know."

Harry frowns before looking at the ground. "I know."

"So tell me about these feelings," Draco says, stepping towards Harry. "I would love to hear about them. And, no worries; I won't laugh at you or tell anybody. You have my word."

Harry glances up at him, a blush tinting his cheeks. "I'm in love with you," he mumbles. "Have been ever since sixth year. Well, I think it was sixth year… I can't exactly pinpoint it."

Draco doesn't say anything, so Harry continues.

"The thing is, I kind of… watch you around the Ministry. It's hard to avoid you, coming in and out of the Auror department all the time. I can't really get over somebody I see every day. I mean… I… not to sound creepy, because it's not like I took pictures…"

"You're in love with me?" Draco clarifies, and when Harry looks up at him, he has his hands in his pockets, looking thoughtfully at Harry, not judging him at all.

Harry nods. "Yes. And, believe me, if I had a choice, I would never ever have told you. But my stupid drunken-self ruined that."

"Damn," Draco chuckles. "I can't believe this."

"Hey. You said you wouldn't laugh."

"I'm not laughing." Draco pulls a straight face. "See? I'm completely serious."

Harry frowns and kicks at the ground. "So yeah. That's it. But you have Astoria, I understand, and you're not gay. You don't like me."

"Astoria?" Draco snorts. "That bitch is not somebody that I would like to spend the rest of my life with. It's simply an arranged marriage. Anyways, have I ever specifically told you that I'm straight? You've never asked my orientation."

Harry is confused for a moment. "Oh. Oh!" He blushes instantly and widens his eyes at Draco. "So you're…?"

"Yes, Harry. Draco Malfoy is gay."

"But you don't like me."

"Assuming again, are we, Harry?" Draco sighs before stepping forward to Harry. He brushes some of Harry's ebony locks out off of his forehead. "You're such an emotional Gryffindor sometimes, really." He then leans in and gently presses his lips against an unsuspecting Harry's.

Harry, although surprised, recovers from his shock fairly quickly, and kisses him back. When Draco tries to pull away, Harry catches his lips again and pulls him back in, leaving them both breathless when Harry decides enough is enough.

"You have to break up with Astoria," Harry says as soon as he pulls away.

Draco gives him a look. "Give me three days."

"One day."

"Two."

"Twenty-four hours, take it or leave it."

Draco scowls. "Fine, one day. And no more kissing or touching or any type of PDA until I have broken it off. I'm still faithful to Astoria, you know."

Harry steals one more kiss before backing away with a smirk. "Faithful, handsome, a good kisser… what else could one want?"

Draco can't help but smile at the other man. "I'll speak with you tomorrow." He grimaces. "Right now I have to deal with Astoria Greengrass, aka, biggest fucking bitch of the century."

Harry tries to tug a comb through his hair, but fails miserably. "Damn."

"You're combing your hair?" Ginny appears behind Harry, and Harry sees her looking horrified through the mirror. "The apocalypse must be beginning! Hurry, get the bazookas!"

"Shut up," Harry murmurs. "I'm trying to comb my hair."

"Probably just 'cause your boyfriend's coming over." She pokes Harry in the ribs multiple times as she says this, and he pushes her away.

"Stop it." He feels his face flush. Ginny has been supportive of Harry and Draco's relationship, and along with her is Andromeda, Teddy (obviously), most of the Weaselys, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Seamus (again, obviously).

Ron, Dean, Kreacher (although he's getting used to it), most of the paintings in Grimmauld (Harry's removing them), Astoria and Narcissa all disagree rather strongly with their relationship, although Ron and Dean suck it up like good friends would.

It's been two months since their relationship has gone public, and everything has been marvelous. Although, Rita Skeeta couldn't help but have a little fun with their relationship, starting many rumors, including one about how they had an affair while Draco was with Astoria.

"Come on, let's go. 'Most everybody's waiting for us downstairs." Ginny takes Harry's hand and they go downstairs, where all of his friends are gathered around, ready to go to a Quidditch match soon. "Chudley Cannons forever!" Ron cries, his face already painted and everything. George grins at his brother, with Angelina Johnson on his arm; things haven't been easy on him since Fred died, but he's been trying.

Draco comes through the Floo just as Harry steps off the last step, and they grin at each other as if they hadn't seen each other in years. "Hey, Draco," Harry says to him when he walks over.

"Harry," Draco greets. "Nice day for a Quidditch match. I have something rather interesting to propose, too."

Harry smirks. "And what would that be?"

"How about a kiss every time somebody makes a goal?"

"Oh, but then your gayness particles will be floating everywhere!" Seamus cries, causing Harry to blush and Draco to chuckle at the flamboyant Gryffindor.

Ginny walks over to Theodore Nott, her boyfriend, and smiles at the crowd. "Alright, we'll be late for the port key if we don't get going. You all ready?"

The crowded living room cheers, and Harry takes Draco's hand. Draco sighs, but squeezes Harry's hand. Draco's not very much for PDA, but he'll do nearly anything for Harry's happiness; luckily, Harry'll do almost anything for Draco's happiness, as well.

So they walk behind the others, hand in hand, each radiating with happiness. Despite a few rough patches, the War, and mixed emotions… they still made it here.

And, really, that means something.