Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The chattering in front of him never ceased, just the eyes had turned on him with curiosity laced in them, but they remained silent on the matter.

“...so, I told them to just leave me alone. I didn't want to spend the Christmas with them.” Pansy shook her head.

“How did they take it?” Blaise asked, eyes back on her.

“Well, I know they didn't agree, but let me be. They need me, I need peace, it's just a whole chaos.” leaning her head on one hand, she sighed.

With a nod, Draco chewed on his bottom lip, tempted to look Harry's way again, but not wanting the eyes back on him, he looked ahead. The sweetness of whiskey spread through the air, and his breath fell short, as he sat their, poised on the chair.

“It's the same everywhere.” he provided shortly, putting a piece of waffle in his mouth from the table.

It was the Christmas Eve, but no one seemed sober as the excitement of the Dark Lord gone brewed in the air with an intoxicating fragrance that heightened the Christmas to the top notch and had basically made the whole school mad with happiness. Though a few lives hadn't changed much, or had changed a bit too much to get a grip on matters and kept slipping out of the fingers as time ticked by, straining relationships to threads.

“What's up with Potter?” Pansy nodded her head towards the lone figure sitting in front of the fire with a bottle of whiskey beside his feet on a table. “He's been drinking a lot.”

Gaining a leverage to glance his way, he turned, roaming his eyes around the lean yet broad structure hunched on the cushions. Though there was a little scope of catching his eyes, but Draco didn't dare a lot to do that yet, even if he wanted to.

“His relatives left Privet Drive.” he answered shortly, not wanting to attract his attention for discussing his personal life, even if his desires were contradictory to his beliefs.

There was a little chance of keeping it that way with Pansy sprawled in front of him with her legs on Blaise's lap, as she seemed to grasp the little chances of gossips spilt here and there about anyone, lately. There was this tensed interest bubbling inside of her these days, Draco had noticed, to befriend anyone who showed some interest toward them and proved decent in her eyes. Maybe it was the stranded situation they all were dealing with, where almost everyone, even the people who had promised that they didn't hold any respect for the Golden Boy had turned their backs to them, complaining about how they were ungrateful and didn't deserve compassion to the least. Draco had taken the blame on his shoulder, turning his nose up dramatically to anyone who tried to bully him, or called him nonsensical words. But deep down, he was past that stage when he would try to use his notorious image to fight them, and just wanted some silence in his life, for once.

“Why?” Pansy asked inevitably, her eyebrows knitted with interest.

Even though he knew the reason, he shook his head with a “don't know,” and fell back to the sombre pool of melancholy they were lapping on a few minutes earlier. The distant knocks and squeaks of Harry moving beat on his eardrums, which proved to be the only way of him confirming his presence.

The crunchy snow depressed under his boots, as Draco wandered about the lake. The Whomping Willow somehow had been decorated with what looked like fireflies to him from afar, though he was sure there was a muggle term for those look-alike miniature bulbs. He liked the place, though the only shortcoming of being there was the lack of sitting arrangement around the water with the ground hidden under the snow. There was a way of conjuring something, but Filch would be furious for taking out furnitures from the building, even if he summoned it from the common room.

Adopting the last resort, he charmed a layer of drying spell on the snow and squatted down in front of the lake, the cold seeping through the magic, but he couldn't care at the moment. The Black Lake refreshed a lot of memories from the previous years, the most prominent one being the second task of the Tri-wizard Tournament, where Harry had gone underwater to pull up a soggy Weasley looking like a drenched shaved rat. He snickered to himself with his hand pressed to his mouth.

“What are you doing?” the familiar voice rang from behind him, though it sounded amused, but his heart sped up nonetheless.

“When did you get here?” Draco turned to Harry with a smile tugging at his lips which he couldn't help, yet putting his frown on place with an effort.

“A second ago.” Harry nodded and sat down beside him with a huff. “Why were you laughing all alone?”

“Remember when you pulled out Weasley from under this lake? He was looking like a drenched and shaved rat wrapped in a towel.” he narrated his thoughts with a smirk.

“No, he wasn't!” he slapped Draco's arm lightly, though the effort to not laugh was given off by his suppressed smile.

“Oh, come on, don't lie.” he shook his head between his laughs.

“Remember the time when Hermione punched you in the face?” Harry nudged his shoulder.

“That's a five year old thing! Get over it.”

The silence settled between them, just the momentary sniggers that left their mouths once in a while due to the remnants of the humour still trapped somewhere in their hearts which slipped as it thrummed.

They hadn't heard the footsteps of the tension leaving them forever after the imposed arrangement of McGonagall for the countable eighth years worked out pretty well, though the merged ecstasy and melancholy had been too much on their plates to handle as the year was coming to an end, pulling the horizon of their time in Hogwarts behind it, and Draco felt bittersweet about it. Though there was a very short list of things Draco wished he hadn't done while in Hogwarts, the memories that went above his head, he assumed were quite justifiable; like his tendency to threaten people to complain to his father about any uneasiness he had to go through, even the pettiest ones. The fact that his father didn't care one bit about his childish tantrums was highlighted in his mind, but it worked on the students like magic, though the teachers would merely blink away in amusement.

Another one that he regretted about was the insufferable twat he had been to Harry, though there was a little chance of a friendship blossoming between them, but coming to think of it, he could have controlled his behaviour and could have just been civil. The itch in the back of his head that he couldn't point his finger on had turned into a soar spot over the years and currently he was giving himself a daily dose of guilt trip to his past.

“How's Mrs. Malfoy doing?” Harry spoke up again, his voice hoarse from the whiskey he had digested an hour ago.

“She's fine.” he nodded his head, not having any elaborated answer to that, for Harry knew every bit of it.

“Things turned out pretty decent despite of our assumptions.” Harry said, his glasses glowing in the moonlight, hiding the green of his eyes.

“Yes, it's just that, decent. People still won't stop sending hate mails, it's just us who don't care, that's all.” the snap in his voice was stifled skillfully, though he doubted Harry hadn't caught up.

“They do it for a laugh, I can assure you.” Harry said, looking down at his lap with a sigh.

“How can you — right.” Draco stopped himself before he could speak out the words, and bit on his lips. The last thing he wanted was to pick up a fight with Harry. “All of them?” he asked again.

“Yes, mostly. The others just follow the trend or pick out people to blame.” he nodded his head, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“What about the Dursleys?”

“They won't come back untill I leave the place for good. I'm considering going back to the Grimmauld Place. Don't want to be on their way when I've got a choice.” Harry pursed his lips in what Draco knew was annoyance, only he didn't know a way to soothe him.

“The Grimmauld Place? Isn't it the — ”

“Yes, the House of Blacks. Sirius gave it away, and I don't know what to do with it.” Harry scowled.

Sitting there, Draco stared at his moonlit face, reminiscing the secret kisses they had shared under the ceiling of the boys dorm, which he was yet to decipher the meaning of and wondered what Harry thought about it. But he considered himself too much of a coward to volunteer to bring that topic up between them. He was yet to mention it to Pansy and Blaise, feeling guarded about his emotions regarding the predicament, not sure if he could call it even that. While around Harry, he mostly denied to think about it. But the few months they had ahead of them was raising an alarm inside of him, and with Ginny Weasley trailing behind him along the hallways, a bubble of jealousy had puffed up inside his heart.

They had been as sudden as anything in Hogwarts, just out of the blue yet electric, which was rare within the walls. Sometimes, he felt a pang of anger stabbing him in the heart as he thought about how Harry acted like nothing had ever happened between them that was unexpected. Though it ebbed away while he had his late night discussions with himself about how he was worthless and not someone to be loved romantically.

“What?” a mild whisper from Harry pulled him out of the trance of thoughts.

“What are you doing after the year ends?” he asked instead.

“For now, I'm moving to No.12. I'm not sure.”

“What about Ginny Weasley? Are you dating her?” he hadn't meant to ask it like that, but he couldn't control himself from speaking up.

Harry turned to him, a knowing look playing in his eyes, and Draco couldn't decide whether it was mocking him or just curious.

“I — yes, we are dating.” he nodded his head, though it was Draco who looked away at the dark water in front of them.

“Congratulations,” Draco said without intending to mix any content of sarcasm in it, but he definitely wanted to snap at Harry for still looking at him with that same expression in his eyes, which made him feel like a guinea pig trapped in a laboratory for experimentations.

“What's it?” Harry prodded, and that's why Draco hated him for all the years, he concluded.

“Nothing,” Draco mustered up his most innocent tone, but the way everything was going, he knew that they were walking on eggshells around each other, and the problem was, he was willing to crack this time.

“I know that tone, Draco.”

Though, he had only shrugged, before saying, “We should head in,” and walking off from there, without waiting for Harry, because he wasn't yet ready to walk the notorious hallways of Hogwarts with him in the dead of the night.

The familiar buzzing of the Hall had never pleased him much, though as the year progressed step by step, he used to close his eyes with his head bowed, and listened to it like some music that pulsed through his veins mixed in his blood. He knew he was going to miss it.

The hushed tones beside him attracted his attention and he strained his ears to listen what Blaise was being so discreet about.

“...they knew it, yes. But never told anyone, worried there was a leak in the team.”

“What folklore are you reciting there?” Draco intervened with a frown.

“The Secrets of Sirius Black.” Blaise whispered dramatically.

“What?” Draco snapped, amused at their whims. “You are gossiping about Sirius Black?”

“What do you think of us?” Pansy rolled her eyes at him. “Did you know, why Sirius Black tried to kill Peter Pettigrew, and who was the actual secret keeper of the Godrick's Hollow?”

“...no?” Draco shook his head dumbly, his eyebrows raised in interest. “But I'm sure Harry knows.”

“Yes, but we didn't. Now we do, and you don't.” Pansy wiggled her eyebrows with a smirk playing on her lips.

“Could you be less dramatic?” Draco scowled at her. “But, how do you know, and — okay, let me in, will you?”

It wasn't like he couldn't know it from Harry, but there was a lot of time in his hands and he needed to spend that somehow, and his interest about the truth worked as a bonus.

Through the hallways, a faint light of moonlight seeped inside the castle, enough to light the ways of the passerbys. Pansy and Blaise had decided to go on to the common room as they refused to be out in the chilling cold of December with a thousand layers of coats and heating charms on. The Black Lake was still a choice for him, but that night, he didn't want to see Harry with the ever-present whiff of alcohol mixed in his breath, though he had kind of grown fond of it.

Trench coats had been a bug in his ear ever since his mother had discovered the particular type of winter clothing. She found it fashionable and couldn't stop herself from ordering bizzare prints over them, both for herself and him. Though, knowing that he prefered black base, she had gotten him one with intricate designs stitched on black satin, which Harry had once mocked him about being the posh git of Hogwarts. The thick fabric kept him warm without a doubt, but the hype about it went completely above his head, as he found the broad collars quite stupid and thought they looked like long bathrobes.

Stuffing his fists into the pockets, he walked faster than before, as the wind had picked up a few miles and was now pricking his face like sharp pins. The common room would be too crowdy for his liking, he knew, but there wasn't any other way to go and avoid the strong wind at the same time. Hence, with loud footsteps, he clambered the stairs up to the tower their dorms were, but a pair shuffling in the corner caught his eyesight.

“Oh, come on, Potter.” those glasses were noticable at any corner of the castle, and for the life of him, he couldn't seem to skip it once.

“Go away,” he groaned, as he stood in front of the red head, while she fixed her dress.

“I mean, couldn't have found a better place? It's the common room, for crying out loud!” he said, as he saw Ginny squeeze out from behind him and out of sight towards the girls dorm.

Even in the dark, he could make out the redness of his flushed cheeks and the messiness of his black hair that looked shaggy to the point where he doubted it could be retrieved. The pit in his stomach had already went an extra metre deeper, and with a disgusted scowl on his face, he stood there, not able to take his eyes off of Harry.

“Everywhere's full on this eve, where am I supposed to go?” Harry said, and Draco was sure he could have slapped him if not for his contradictory emotions.

“Go find a brothel or something, what do I know?” Draco snapped immediately, shivering under his heavy clothing, though he doubted it was for the weather.

“What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing's wrong with me. You are the one who was shagging outside the common room!” Draco scoffed at him, his fists balled up inside his pockets.

“What is there to be so dramatic about? What, you've never shagged someone?” Harry exclaimed, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise.

With his teeth grinding inside his mouth, he once again considered hitting Harry, but there was thin chance of him of actually being able to do it. Instead, he just bit a, “no!” and ran off to the dorms with hopes of falling asleep quicker than other days.

From the night of Christmas, Harry and Draco had barely spoken. With Harry refusing to meet Draco's eyes and he himself not daring to look too much his way, they had more or less stopped interacting at all. Pansy had her own suspicions, and Blaise being the oblivious one, it remained unknown to him that anything had happened to him at all. Honestly, Blaise never understood any emotion untill someone spoon fed it to him, like a child he was.

Hissing under the cold wind, Draco brushed the back of his hand over his lashes that had gathered a lump of snow over it in those five minutes that he had been standing there. He didn't know, why he was doing it to himself, but ever since the live proof of Harry and Ginny dating, he had been scarred in a way to look at him straight in the eye. The constant sting of the invisible gash drove him to the fields every now and then, hoping the cold would numb the pain, but it didn't.

Rushing back to the tower, he brushed his coat at the door to shed the gathered snowflakes from the fabric, so that they didn't dampen the only potentially capable clothing he had from actually freezing to death.

“What are you upto? It's like minus forty outside and you're strolling around on the knee high snow?” Pansy shook her head with her lips pursed.

“Stop exaggerating things. It's just minus ten, and the snow comes upto your ankles, not knees.” Draco rolled his eyes at his friend.

“So what? I don't see the difference, that's what I meant. If you manage to get frostbite then they are going to snap your fingers off with grass clippers.” Pansy argued from in front of the fire she had lit.

“For Merlin's sake, Pansy, stop being so dramatic! I was fully covered, if you didn't know, and no, I didn't get frostbite!” Draco snapped, and made it to the couch.

“Where's Blaise?” he asked, as he sighed at the warmth of the room, thawing his limbs and face near the fire.

“Under the quilts, of course.” she huffed, as she lifted her bare feet in front of the fire, wiggling her toes.

“Any spacial plans for tonight?” Draco asked, his eyes closed.

“No, I'm not going out anywhere until it stops snowing. I'm ordering whiskey and wine in and drinking till I drop.” Pansy shook her head vigorously to emphasise her point, and Draco sighed at her.

“We've got classes tomorrow.” he said.

“I do not care, I need a booze or I'm going to faint.”

“Then let's invite the Gryffindors in.”

Draco didn't know what had made him say that, but he had regretted the minute the group had walked in; Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and last but not the least Ginny Weasley. He honestly didn't understand the meaning behind Ginny's invitation, but he doubted Pansy told them anything about bringing Ginny Weasley to the short party, when she wasn't even in her eighth year yet. Although, there wasn't anything he could have done to stop Harry from bringing his girlfriend, even if she was uninvited.

The tension filled the room from his side, as they sat down on the couch and chairs, pulling them closer to the fire without a word.

“So, let's start it shall we?” Pansy clapped her hands with a satisfied grin playing on her lips.

“Yeah,” Weasley nodded his head once, his palms rubbing against each other on his lap for the extra bit of heat.

Draco cautiously kept his eyes on Pansy who was pouring the wine in the goblets for everyone, as he could sense a pair of green orbs flickering back and forth from him to Ginny, and he'd be damned if the silent agreement that he had signed with himself got violated due to Harry's nature to test his will power and control over himself. God knew, this was just the start.

“Alright, let's get on with the toasts.” Hermione said, as she raised her glass in the air. “Toast to the beautiful New Year and to our friendship!” Pansy and Hermione shared a sweet smile, when Hermione grabbed her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

“It's my turn!” Pansy wiggled with excitement and grabbed her goblet with a wide grin.

“Toast to Ronald and Hermione finally sleeping together.” Pansy giggled to which Ron turned into a shade of tomato with his red hair looking out of the planet under the fiery light.

“Hey!” Hermione protested as her eyes grew wide like saucer pans at Pansy's words.

“Ginny?” Hermione turned to the younger red head in the room, and nudged her towards her goblet, but, for the first time, Draco noticed that she was not at all looking engaged in the little party they were having.

“No, I don't have anything to say.” she passed and Hermione turned a short look at Harry who ducked his head away.

Wondering about the interaction, Draco raised his glass, feeling bold all of a sudden, and said, “Toast to the amazing winter and Hogwarts for literally everything.”

The roar of the few people only dialled up as the bottles started going out of its contents and gathering up on the mantel. The tension had ebbed away from everyone, including Ginny Weasley who was now downing whiskey like water, and giggling at the silly jokes Blaise was throwing her way with a straight face.

The fire was almost out, and the smoldering pieces of woods peeled off like snakes inside the fireplace. Without the heat of the fire, the place wasn't as comfortable as it was before, with the chill seeping through the stone floor, despite of the woolen carpet specially provided for the winter. But the alcohol in their system had long since numbed the cold out of their nerves, leaving them to slip through their own judgement acting a way they wouldn't have if sober.

The oddity of the minutes thickened up even more when Draco's eyes fell on Harry whose lips were stretched like an welcoming smile to whoever he turned to. Though, by the observations of the previous few nights, Draco supposed him to be a dexterous drinker, which kind of hinted towards the fact that Harry had actually found something funny to which he was smiling rather than just experiencing the effects of snorting meth after drinking alcohol.

“What's so funny?” Draco asked finally, unaware of the fact that he had just broken the fortnight long silence they had managed to stretch through the festive air.

“Nothing, I'm just enjoying the face — fact that we are all here together, like bonding, you know?” Harry made some hand gestures Draco didn't know signed bonding or together, the only two words he could link it with.

“Yeah,” Draco nodded his head importantly. “For a long time — I mean it's been days that we've spoken.”

“Yes, you kind of acted wierd that night. We were just — ”

“Harry, we'll be back.” Ginny chirped from beside him, as she stood up, pointing from Blaise to her.

“Yes, go on.” Harry waved a hand at her, and continued. “We were just shagging!”

The pin drop silence that followed after Ginny and Blaise left towards the washrooms was a new point that was added to the long list of things Draco would never forget while in Hogwarts.

************

The love for Quidditch had experienced a very tragic twist in his sixth year, when the burden of saving the lives of his parents had pressed him face down under the feet of the Dark Lord, though it was just now, that he realised his performance in the task didn't have to do anything with his decisions. It was a mere trick to lure him into the world of crime, and he had very stupidly fallen for it, in fear of even losing his life in the process.

But, if Hogwarts had ever taken anything from him, it was the assumption that he was the best in the game within the school, Harry being the living proof of it. It was a nice experience of witnessing Harry back on his broom again, trying to master the snitch in his grasp, just like old days. The only difference this time had, was his presence in the stands with the other eighth years instead of in the sky flying for his house to win the match. Cheering from beneath felt odd, yet he enjoyed the flushed excitement and thrill while following the red and green dots on the sky, sometimes jumbling up the identity of the players in his pinched vision.

It hadn't been very hard for him to decide to not take part in the game, keeping an eye on the uncertainty of his ability against Harry, which had been proven year after year in each game he had played against him. Though he couldn't point it as the definite reason behind his rejection, as the gradually growing urge in him to remain at the sides came in his way at every step he took. Maybe that was the reason he had apologised to Harry about his out of the line behaviour on the night of Christmas, and when demanded for the reason, he had just blamed it on his father, the easiest way to brush it off his shoulder.

The New Year's night had ended with Harry and Ginny splitting, though there was a possibility of Harry already wanting the separation, for he had seemed too composed for someone to feel remorse. Only Ron and Hermione could now confirm the fact about the actual reason of Harry being so casual about Ginny, not that Ginny herself had been a lot serious about the matter, but Draco was yet to bring up the topic with them.

Beside him, Blaise seemed bored out of his wits and Pansy had long since vanished from his eyesight, claiming that the game was straining her eyes and could start a headache. Being it the first week of January, the snow was still sticking to the ground and sometimes was replenished by the late night snowing. Fortunately, the wind wasn't very strong that morning, or he doubted the players would still be flying around the sky with such speed and not dropping like frozen flies.

“...and Harry Potter has caught the snitch!” the stands roared in familiar celebration, and even though Slytherin had lost, an appreciative smile played on Draco's lips as he saw Harry swish down on the magically dried ground and threw his hand clutching the snitch in air in excitement.

“The Slytherins lost.” Blaise pointed out from beside him with his hands pressed to his ears to block the deafening roar of complaints from behind him.

“I know.” he said, giving him a side-eye.

“Why are you smiling?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Because it was a fair game. Now let's go!” Draco urged, noticing the crowd gathering up near the exit, even after the several requests from McGonagall to form a queue.

On the grounds between the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's hut, Draco waited for the group to gather up, as their plan to visit Hogsmeade for dinner was yet to be executed. From afar, he noticed the light on the small window glowing like a lamp in the dark, leading the way into the darkness of the forest. Once in a while, Hagrid invited the trio over his hut for tea and cake which they refused to talk about, but he kind of made it out himself that they didn't quite like the food they were served. That's the only thing that had remained the same from the very first year.

Around the month of November, he had learnt about the Ground keeper's brother Grawf. According to Hermione, he was like any giant, stupid and huge, but Hagrid thought otherwise, since he had learnt a lot of English over the couple years which Hagrid had taught himself on his regular visit on the mountains.

Kicking at the snow with his boots, he suddenly considered to go and knock the door, surprising himself with his thoughts, though he had suspicions if Hagrid would even welcome him inside. But there was a difference between thinking and actually carrying oneself to do the action, and Draco shook his head at himself for being the surprisingly huge coward that he couldn't love.

After a wait of around ten minutes, Draco saw the silhouettes of Pansy and Blaise followed by the three Gryffindors they lately hung out with, and he waved at them from the distance.

“Thought you'd change?” Pansy questioned, as soon as she reached his hearing range.

“I did, the coat.” he nodded his head once, eyes travelling to Harry within a short second.

He was wearing all black, just like him; jumper, muggle pants which they called jeans, and a blazer which complimented his broad shoulders on a new level.

“Oh, alright, let's go. I'm hungry.” Pansy rolled her eyes at him, which he turned his back on.

A sweet fragrance travelled to Draco's nostrils; even though it was foreign, he recognised the scent of whiskey mixed with it within a split second, the mixture giving him a whiplash as his eyes grew wide at the speed that his heart picked up and a smile forced his lips up, which lasted the ride to the village.

The scenery in the famous trip spot momentarily buried the memory of fragrance from his mind, allowing him to look around the place with interest. The left over signs of the belated Christmas and New Year hung from the wooden doors of the stores and buildings lined on the either sides of the streets, though the enchanted miniature flames flickered weakly from most of the windows that they crossed paths with, their magic wearing off from the cheap sorcery mechanism. Yet, it looked beautiful.

Every year, during the festivities, the village gears up for the huge wave of wizards that files up in and out of the restaurants, bars and shops all over the village. Even now, after a week of New Year, the place was packed up from inside with dwellers and travellers for the lingering snow over the peeking grass from beneath.

“Let's go to Tracy's.” Harry suggested from behind him, and Draco turned his head with eyebrows raised.

“That's a bar.” he quipped with a smirk.

“That's a bar cum diner. C'mon, I've been there a lot.” Harry nodded his head, his glasses blinking in the light, letting him an image of sinister underground muggle criminal bundled up with his perfect outfit, set to achieve his mission. And, Draco almost let the laugh slip through his lips, if Hermione had not showed her opposition of going to a bar, again.

With a sigh, Draco turned away from the banter that turned the voice of the group up over the crowd around them without his consent. Though, that was the only difference between the Slytherins and Gryffindors he could jot down these days in the Common Room and dorms, their loud way to love someone, in a good way, sometimes making him wish for the way of affection in the dead of the nights.

The menu was useless, for he never knew what they tried to say and while reading the description under the names, it took him ages to decide, earning irritation from people waiting for the piece of laminated parchment. Hence, he had given everybody a chance before he could decide on his platter of delicacies he'd like from the place. Almost, when Blaise had managed to snatch the card out of his hands, he had decided on some beef based main course, salad for the starter and a serving of Jack Daniels instead of the dessert, unconsciously copying Harry from the opposite side of the table.

They weren't the only group from Hogwarts though, as he could notice Romilda Vane and Luna Lovegood on the other corner of the bar, sipping on cocktails and munching crisps. After glancing at Harry once, his unawareness of their presence was proved as he chatted on with Blaise and Ron animatedly, ignoring Hermione's scowl at the glass of whiskey he was sipping at.

“Hey, that's Looney!” Pansy whispered near his ear with excitement, nodding at the pair sitting in the corner.

“Yes, I've noticed.” Draco nodded his head. “Don't look at them too long if you don't want them to come over.” Draco muttered putting in a piece of beef in his mouth.

“Come on, they aren't that bad. I like Romilda!” she shook her head with a frown.

“Rich coming from you.” Draco contradicted with a playful scoff.

“Look across the table.” with a sarcastic glare, Pansy waved a hand at the duo to attract their attention.

The drunken faces ignited a level of temporary confidence in him, helping him to stand up and acknowledge their presence with a couple greetings and smiles. Though the most effected were a couple of girls and a guy. Hermione, who till now was glaring at Harry got herself a vodka based cocktail "for some fun" and Pansy supposed there were too many people to do refills and unnecessarily tire the waiters, hence she ordered a bottle of Jack Daniels on Harry's request.

The flat atmosphere of the bar soon vibrated with interest and happiness, especially emerging from the ladies who were almost drunk when they met the others. In the end, Draco concluded that he didn't mind the company so much, despite his opinion of Romilda Vane being the biggest bogus of Hogwarts after Adrian Puccey.

“I'd never do that!” Harry protested.

“Stop it, you almost replied to her.” Hermione laughed from beside him. “I'm the Chosen One.” she mocked him. 

“Well, it's the truth!” Harry laughed.

“It may be the truth, but get that foot out of your mouth, now.” Draco quipped, earning him a slap on his hand.

“Ugh, alright, I'm full of myself. And yes, Romilda, Ron was the one who opened your letter and fell in love with you.” Harry agreed with a defeated nod.

“Mate, you always have to push me in the pit, don't you?” Ron hit Harry in the back of his head.

“What, it's not my fault you read it first! I had to take you to Slughorn to wear off the potion.” Harry laughed aloud, as he ducked away from the second blow coming his way.

Whether it had slipped their minds or they intentionally skipped it, Draco didn't know, but the three of them remained silent about the incident that had followed while Ron was in Slughorn's office. Sneaking glances at Romilda's hand on Harry's arm while she giggled with a blush on her actions that the trio narrated, Draco mostly remained silent, though did not at all feel bored, as they listened to the stories with wrapped attention, and laughed along with the others.

Even on their way back, Luna decided on talking about her father's one of the rebellious articles, that had caused the ban of the whole issue of Quibbler, when, according to her, the nargles were ruling the country. Despite of the awkward topic, Draco had cracked when he had tried to imagine the Dark Lord as some floaty creature, called nargles.

The perennial radishes on her ears had been replaced with jazzy earings that twinkled and jingled as they rode back on the carriage pulled by thestrals to Hogwarts around nine. The little observations never seemed to be too petty to Draco, because they often helped him assess their changes in behaviour or growth of person, which he loved doing. Though the previous fifteen minutes had been caught up by the thigh that had been brushing against his leg with the sway of the carriage attracting his consciousness away from discussion about Luna's father.

Erasing the fragrance of Harry wasn't very easy with his drunken mind travelling back to the September night they had shared a dorm room for the first time, when Harry had offered the hand of friendship to end the era of their contempt for each other. Then, he had been surprised and laughed with part excitement and confusion, though later Harry had assured or rather promised that he didn't have any intentions of making a joke out of it; that he was serious. Slowly Draco had caught up with his habit of drinking and had often witnessed him passed out on his bed with a half filled bottle waiting beside the bed.

A handful nights, thay had sat and spoken about their mundane lives, but that was on the first couple months of the new term, when Ron and Hermione used to disappear somewhere unknown and left them with the offhanded tension that Harry had decided to sort out with kisses. But it hadn't worked for Draco, rather had blown his mind and he had to settle for the excuse of experimental homosexual acts that he could only frown upon. Or the more plausible explanation could be his intoxicated state which had made him do it, but even then, he prefered the first one.

The temperature had fallen once again with the heavy clouds lingering in the sky to break down on earth, and the absence of enough stars did not please him enough to stay outside the castle any longer. By the time he had trotted under the ceiling of the entrance hall, thin flakes of snow were already floating down upon the ground accompanied by a strong wind.

The building could have been warmer if the walls weren't made of stones, Draco supposed. But the ancient structure had it's own magic, stronger than any human being that had ever walked around behind the walls and Draco couldn't complain about its abilities. Hence when he reached the door of the boys' dorm, he sighed in relief, already feeling the fatigue generated by the alcohol in his system.

“They are gone, again.”

Draco turned, halting at his movements of hanging his coat by the door, finding Harry sitting on his bed with his back leant on the headboard.

“Where to?” he inquired without curiosity, feeling the skip of his heartbeat.

“I don't know,” Harry shook his head, his words unclear from the effects of drinking too much.

“Okay,” he nodded his head not sure about what to reply him with, hence he just turned away to hang his coat. It's not very uncommon, their secret rendezvous.

“Yeah,” he heard the soft breath released by the man and sighed at his heart for beating so fast.

Pulling his pyjamas out from his trunk, he walked towards the bathroom to escape Harry's vision that already had him flushed to his ear tips.

“Hey listen,” if he were to be very honest with himself, Draco had expected that call, because, everytime, it started like that.

“Yes?” though, in reply, Harry just offered his hand up in the air for Draco to hold, squeezing the air out of his chest.

With uncertain steps, Draco made it near the bed and slid his fingers on Harry's palm, registering the familiar roughness of his skin for the second time in his heart, his eyes roaming on the face in front of him nervously.

“Have you noticed, your hand's really small compared to mine.” Harry pointed out, pulling him down on the bed, urging him to sit down without words.

“Hm,” Draco hummed, as his eyes followed the movement of Harry's fingers on his palm, as he tried to align his to prove his words.

“Isn't it?” he said, successfully getting his way with Draco's palm and looked up.

Draco nodded his head this time, meeting his eyes with the greens, that searched his for Merlin knew what.

“Say something,” Harry whispered filling him with butterflies around his stomach but he never knew what to say when around him when they were alone. The only thing he could do right then was feel his movements on his skin as he intertwined their fingers and lifted his hand to press his lips on his knuckles.

“I love your skin.” funny how he could say the same thing about him, but he couldn't, with Harry looking at him like he was about to kiss him on the lips, while a hand found its way on his face and caressed the supple skin.

Outside, the whistling storm pushed the closed windows, letting a flake or two of snow in the almost dark room with a single candle glowing at one corner near the ceiling; but Draco remained unconscious about it when Harry pulled him on his thighs and met their lips, hands on either side of his face. The old fragrance hit him harder than the evening, only this time he could recognise it as a mixture of wet soil and old books, the taste of his favourite brand of whiskey tainting his tongue, drawing an end to his mental debate, that he liked it way better the second way.

Expecting something from the young man had been out of question for Draco, because the thin line between expectation and disappointment had been crossed a million times in his past by people he couldn't have assumed, among those times, Harry held a thousand serials. Laying on the bed under him, as Draco absorbed the little nonsense indecent words whispered by Harry in his ears mixed with the moans, he could only solve broken possibilities in his mind about what was to come the next morning. Though, when their clothes finally lay in an untidy heap on the floor, the thoughts disappeared into nothingness along with his fatigue and the feeling of bone freezing cold on the other side of the walls.

The margin hadn't ever been crossed before, and the need to open up to Pansy was knocking on his heart, struggling to find a way to cope, even if he wanted to leave that decision for Harry to make.

With the book on his lap, his mind tried to focus on the words stamped in bold letters, describing the process of brewing an antidote for rabies, something he thought would help him get his mind off from things that shouldn't matter when he graduated from Hogwarts, something that could help him achieve his dream to be a healer someday, if the government declared him innocent enough to allow him a license. For a while after the trials, he had been trying to contact institutions for a course of healer, but enrolling in schools with criminal records and just three OWLs was never easy for anyone. For his father, it was easy to roam about on the streets with a stamp of a Death Eater on his arm and bark orders at people with a cane, but it wouldn't be for him with his will to live a life where people didn't spat at his back or whisper profanities about him while amongst peers, would always come in his way, because he had grown up to be a different man than his father and for that, if anyone ever taunted him for being womanly, he would tell them that he was proud to be like his mother; strong and a person with self respect.

The faint silver rays hit his face, and he looked up to find the sun peeking through the clouds probably melting the snow already in the middle of January. With a sigh, Draco reasoned with himself about it being natural, as he could already see few inches of the soil peeking up at the sky ready to grow fresh blades of grasses around next month.

As the reasons of staying inside and warm evaporated in the air, the burden of homework piled up at their desks with an alarming rate, leaving no scope for a single spare thought, as every teacher pressurized them with the importance of the NEWTs for any jobs they wished to pursue in their future. When Draco had let Professor McGonagall on his wish, the middle-aged lady had looked him in the eye and glared at him for good two minutes before sighing and passing an appreciative nod at him.

“I will pray you achieve your goal to help people.” she had said with pursed lips while sliding a pamphlet along with a signed letter across her desk towards him. “If I ever get even a whiff of funny business on your trail, young man, I won't hesitate to send a signed letter to the ministry on behalf of Professor Dumbledore requesting your arrest.”

The letter was a special recommendation of the Headmistress of Hogwarts with the permissions of Albus W. B. Dumbledore, which he waved around in front of Hermione's face while skipping around the Common Room.

“Sweet Jesus, what is this for!” Hermione squeaked while reading the letter, her eyes wide as saucers.

“Professor McGonagall had summoned me for a council this morning, and I told her that I wanted to be a healer after Hogwarts, but no institutions were allowing me to enroll as a student. So she looked up my grades in assignments this year and the OWL exams and gave me the letter.” Draco ranted with a grin and for the umpteenth time bouncing on the couch with excitement.

With a hand over her mouth, she sat there staring at him. “Oh my god, Draco, congratulations!” Hermione pulled him into a tight hug, almost smothering him in the process.

“Thank you!” he squeaked from between her arms that was still wrapped around him.

“You're most welcome — ”

“What's the occasion?”

The grin on his mouth had almost faded away when he turned towards the voice at the door, “Professor McGonagall gave me this letter.” he said, preventing his breath from abandoning him as he sucked in a lungful of oxygen, and raised the letter for him to see.

“A recommendation! Congratulations!” Harry pressed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze as their eyes met for the first time after the night.

“Thanks,” Draco nodded his head with a smile.

Amongst the people Draco connected with, it astonished him how more dedicated Hermione was about her career than he had presumed but not at all the nerd everyone supposed her to be. Wondering about all the little adventures the three friends had spoken about, there were a few moments when Draco had been curious about how they always made it through without failing, and every time his answer had been bravery, friendship and intellect, even if it sounded too overdramatic to him.

As the the NEWTs neared, both gradually and astoundingly he got on better with the woman, just like the time he had shown the letter to everyone and she had been almost as excited about it as he was, really feeling what he was feeling about the opportunity. In the whole batch of the eighth years, Hermione was the only person that comprehended his need and desire to accomplish his dreams as they both had something to prove to the people who thought they were incompetents.

“Slughorn scheduled a quiz on Thursday.” Draco called to Hermione.

“This Thursday!” Hermione gasped from the floor, where she was busy with her Charms assignment, a five scroll long essay.

“Uh-huh,” Draco nodded his head. “Says he needs to know if the class is catching up well.”

“He can't have! We have a DADA test on that day!” Hermione shook her head.

“I know, but we have got a Quidditch game tomorrow, don't worry.” Draco smirked at her knowingly. “And it's Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff, so, I'm not going to watch it.”

“Oh, thanks to God.” she sighed at the ceiling.

“Don't, thank Harry. He convinced McGonagall to shift the game, so the finale gets over before a week of the NEWTs, so that the players get enough time to revise.” Draco smiled at her. “So, from now on, it's two games a week, and we get enough time to prepare.”

Hermione sniggered behind her hand. “That manipulator!”

“Yes, it worked out like that.”

Though a worry remained for Draco, as most hospitals did not account institutional certificates for failed OWLs, not at least St. Mungo's did. On the matter, he had consulted with Hermione about what hospitals probably accepted certificates, and she had listed around ten of them, both out of Scotland or England, and they weren't of very good reputation.

“There's a way though. You can gain a few years of experience from them, and then try around with better options. St. Mungo's accepts experienced healers without enough NEWTs.” she had adviced.

That would mean leaving his mother in Wiltshire for years, though it was something he could think about when the time came. Untill the year, he had never thought about leaving England and not go back at the end of the term, but to gain what he wanted he had to take the hard step, and he promised himself that it wouldn't be forever, neither for his mother, nor for himself.

**********

Throughout the hours of his travel to Wiltshire, a thought had been playing his heartbeats like a violin, but it was tough for him to decide. The one week break sanctioned by the Institute of Medicinal Sorcery to him, was meant to be solely dedicated to visiting his mother Narcissa after the yearly exams, but he was yet to reply to a couple letters sent by both Pansy and Hermione requesting to join their Christmas reunion which he had missed last year. Even if he had the night to decide, it could take him more than an hour to travel to the wooden cabin they had booked for the celebration.

A while back, Narcissa had moved out of the Malfoy Manor and into an apartment in the small town of Tidworth, confessing to be facing symptoms of insomnia or otherwise terrible nightmares. The unfamiliar rows of buildings to where she lived must have lent her some sense of security for the little piles of galleons they charged, as she had confirmed complete comfort under the low ceiling and had assured him that the sounds of people waltzing above her room did actually made her feel safe and sleep well.

“I know how to use my wand.” she had written under a post script addressing to his worrying letters continuously knocking at her windows.

Almost two years had passed since the day of farewell ball arranged by Hogwarts for the ones who had bravely fought in the Second Wizarding War that had almost rendered him hidden in the dorms. But there were little secrets that Harry had sealed his lips upon, just to let them out on that day, like how he could never kill Dumbledore even when he had the chance and power or when he hadn't let Harry's identity out on a special opportunity that could have gotten him killed, and even when his mother had declared him dead in the Forbidden Forest despite of sensing his breath while she was stood in front of the Dark Lord.

The moment he stepped down on the platform, Draco blamed the abnormally low population of the town for the almost empty station. With his trunk shrunk into his pocket, he made his way towards the floo station without an ado.

Blaise had informed him, that the cabin was yet to install a floo in the building, meaning they were just going to have to floo to the nearest station a mile away. For unknown reasons, his heart skipped beats as he informed the security about his arrival, one of the members of the group that had booked the cabin for the Christmas. Without another word, the man ran towards the the building he could see from afar, buried in decorative vines and wild flowers, leaving him to wonder why he didn't have some way to communicate with the guest from the booth.

By the time the white door to the cabin opened he could feel his heart in the throat pulsing under his chin with nervous sweat beads below his nose even in the weather of around three degrees.

“Hi, mate! Glad you could make it.” Blaise beamed at him with a pat on his shoulder.

“Yes, of course.” Draco greeted back with a hug and made it into the house. “Nice choice, I love the lake view.” Draco nodded towards the backyard which had a fraction of the water peeking from behind.

“It was Weasley. The couple had been here after their engagement for their...fun?” Blaise chuckled as he lead Draco inside the living room.

“Ah, right.”

As the occupants of the room came into view, Draco's heart plummeted to his stomach with a flip. Harry wasn't present there.

“Potter's inside, busy on some muggle contraption.”

“Oh,” Draco sighed as he waved to the others with a smile.

“Didn't let us put up wards so that he could use his...thingy.” Blaise grumbled.

“Draco!” Pansy shrieked and jumped up, hanging from his neck, until he hugged her back.

“Hello, Pansy,” he smiled back at the woman's excitement which brought back the feeling of being at Hogwarts.

“Ron, that was just two times! What are you talking about?” Hermione moved to turn a frown at the man she was leaning on.

“I'm just joking.” Ron raised his hands to showcase a gesture of surrender to his woman with a smile.

For a surprise, Harry actually hugged him by the waist, almost wringing the air out of him to the point where he stumbled to keep his balance and anticipated to be lifted up his feet but was only hit by the old scent of soil and books paralysing his movements for a split second while the hug lasted. The little braid hanging upto his upper back, decorated with a golden ribbon caught his attention and his eyes bulged out.

“Your hair...” the words had left his mouth before he could stop it. “you let it grow?” even though the question sounded ridiculous, those were the only handy words he could fetch from his dictionary to improvise his slip up.

“Yeah, how's it?” Harry grinned, giving it a tweak.

“I don't know, looks... different.” he nodded his head with a sober smile to cover up the flood of hormones rushing through his veins forcing him to duck his eyes away, lest he could have swooned.

“Dursley would have chopped it off himself if he saw that.” Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

Turning a raised eyebrow at her, Harry pursed his lips. “I get it you don't like it, Hermione, but you don't really have to idolize the Dursleys for that.”

“I never said that! I'm just saying that they wouldn't have liked it.” Hermione squeaked in her defence with eyes wide.

“Then what's with sidetracking your opinion? You never said how I look.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest with a confronting gesture.

“To be honest, she thinks — ”

“Shut up!” Hermione slapped a hand over Ron's mouth. “Didn't I tell you not to speak about it?”

Despite of his urge to throw in a couple comments, Draco sealed his mouth shut with an engaging smile that assured the rest of his acknowledgment in the conversation, until he saw fit to speak again, which was after the topic had diverted back to her job with his little courtesy.

The morning after gradually became busier as the sun shifted above the tiled roof warming up the day for a easier way through the cold. The aftermath of the drunken night reflected on their mood swings as Blaise and Pansy cycled from painful groans to mild humor through the process of stringing ornaments to the unexpectedly handsome tree they had received through the owl order and Ron goaded Hermione's smile for her clever mind.

Harry seemed fresh from his practiced drinking habit which Draco presumed to have effected his neurological built through the years, though he was yet to assess the level of addiction he had held on to. His sudden makeover had tremendously affected his confidence, to the point where he sometimes swallowed back his sassy comments he was used to pass along with their conversations, though he was working on its return.

A few hours into the decorations, a contrast feathered owl had tapped on one of the windows in the hall announcing the arrival of a letter for Harry. Draco was curious despite of the chances of it being official, but at the end, he had discovered against his thoughts. It was indeed from a woman named Azalea Snow who Hermione teased him to be his new interest.

“They have been seeing each other for a month now.” Ron nodded his head with a laugh.

“Oh,” Draco smiled his best with an intentional ignorance of his heart in his stomach. “Good for you.”

“Thanks,” Harry nodded his head without sparing a glance his way.

And that was about how Draco's Christmas Eve went, with attempts of skipping Harry's presence in the house when they sat down to plan a rough routine of the next day about the village. The unconscious jabs targetted toward him with the idea of inviting Azalea over for the next day slapped him into partial silence throughout the span of discussion with just the will to pass interested glances their ways when any of them spoke.

“What about you?” Blaise asked.

“Maybe go to a nightclub?” he provided out of the blue.

“That's actually a great idea.” Harry nodded his head and Draco had to hold a scowl back as he swallowed.

***********

Along with the news of Azalea actually visiting them, arrived Draco's desire to sleep elsewhere that night despite the awareness of the plan of going to a nightclub. It could work though, Draco assured himself with a frown on his lips, could just pick someone from the club. However unfavorably bold that sounded, it would have to do the part since his heart refused to sleep anywhere in the hearing vicinity of Harry and Azalea's drunken moans during the night, which he had presumed would be the case.

Hence, when they summoned their cue to getting ready for the occasion, Draco had pulled out the most flattering piece of outfit from his pile of clothes in the suitcase, even after feeling cheap at the heart for making such a move, yet the situation called for the drastic step from him and he couldn't resist. In his room for over an hour, he corrected the prussian blue ribbon around his collar of the black blouse, which was paired with a matching holographic set of sparkly partially fitting pants and blazer.

“Draco?” Pansy's voice resounded with a knock on the wood of the door.

“Come in,” Draco called her and the slim body squeezed through the thin crack she parted the door apart into.

“Holy moly,” Pansy whistled as she clicked in the room with her knee length boots. “Draco, you look handsome.”

“Do I?” he tried to smirk but a blotch of pink rose up to his cheeks as he shied back at his reflection on the mirror of the dresser.

“Yes!” she skipped on her toes. “You just need to paint your nails, blue or black.”

“Paint my nails?” Draco exclaimed, bewildered.

“Stop making it such a big deal. I know you like them.” Pansy rolled her eyes at him and summoned a tiny bottle from her room, opening the door just in time as the bottle came zooming in through the gap.

“Seriously though, that doesn't mean I'd want to wear them. I'm a man — ”

“I know you're a man!” Pansy huffed catching hold of the bottle. “Trivial nailpolish won't make you any less of a man, for Christ's sake.” 

“What would people think — ”

“You don't know nothing about true women, if that's what you're talking about.” Pansy sighed with a glare directed towards Draco. “Do you want to put it on, though? It's your choice.”

Biting on his lower lip, he turned back to the mirror with a light frown of contemplation without uttering another word and Pansy grabbed the hem of her black leather skirt ending just above the boots, paired with a golden sequin top.

“Okay, I will — ”

“Yes!”

Every other second his eyes traveled to the porcelain skin of the unknown woman walking in front of him with practiced stealth that dated back to years prior in Hogwarts, despite of the knowledge of his actions being unethical and there was a serious lack of determination in him to keep tough. Just beside Azalea, who was donned in a beautiful silver silk dress that glistened in the moonlight with delicious softness, walked Harry, with all his glory, in a black base shirt stamped with stars loosely hanging over the dark skinny jeans that Draco was yet to decide the color of in the dim lit beach.

Sure they had decided on going to a nightclub, but the news of the presence of a nightclub near the beach had perked them up even more than before. Hence, with an unending layer of sand beneath their feet, they strolled about in the open with bottles of beer clutched in hand.

By the time he had walked out of the room, Azalea was already present in the hallway with the other, chatting on to know the names of the group members with the brilliant smile plastered to her lips that had Draco staring at her from the very beginning. Though, the inclusion of the beach in the plan had, to some extent, soiled the effect of his outfit, he still could see unknown faces that seemed a lot interested in him than the beach ahead.

“I'm heading in for another drink. Anyone coming?” Harry called as he stood up from the bench they had grabbed around the club.

Lacking the will to provide the man with the satisfaction of looking at him, he stared affront with a feign of not hearing him, even when his answer echoed in his ears with a yes, yes, yes. Glancing at his beer bottle to check the content, Draco decided, on grabbing the chance, since the bottle was almost empty anyway.

“Yeah, let's go.” he nodded his head.

For a club so small, the dance floor was packed with people seemingly too drunk to care about the uncomfortable closeness of the other's dancing with them, for they were smiling with their eyes closed and hands raised in the air.

With Harry just in front of him, Draco contemplated on the thought of asking him about his girlfriend, I mean, how they met and all, Merlin! With a scoff at himself he continued towards the bar counter with a sweep of the curtain of hair falling on his right eye.

“What would you like to have, gentlemen?” the bartender asked with a smile.

“I...want a whiskey on the rocks.” Harry ordered with a glance towards him.

“And make me a Bloody Mary, please.” Draco ordered, nodding his head.

“So...” Harry started beside him probably with an intension of making small talks. “What's up with your nails?”

“It was Pansy.” Draco's reply was immediate merged with a shy smile. “She thought it'd enhance my look.”

“Well, yeah,” Harry nodded his head as his eyes traveled around his blazer and hair. “She can never be wrong with fashion.” he laughed.

A nervous laugh broke his stature when he bent down just a little to hide his blush that had crept up his cheeks. The fact that they were still not drunk tuned in with his consciousness to remind him that his signature words were still not rolling out of his tongue now and then to maintain the normalcy.

“I do look good, yes.” he nodded his head, when the bartender pushed his cocktail towards him, throwing in a subtle hint of interest in the conversation.

“Ah, well,” Harry sighed. “Since you have already mentioned it, it's got to be true.”

“Stop beating around the bush, Harry Potter.” Draco passed over his glass.

“It's my tendency.” the other shook his head with a gentle laugh.

“Sure it is.”

“Sorry,”

The music changed its tune to a tragic pop, and Draco turned towards the dance floor with his eyebrows raised, observing the sweaty dancers colliding with each other, every second and muttering futile apologies with a grimace.

“Do you know her?”

“Huh?” Draco turned to find Harry looking to the other side of the counter knowingly.

He definitely knew the woman Harry was talking about. It was Clementine Morph, an ex Slytherin, graduated in the July of 1997, currently eyes fixated on him over the rim of her wine glass. Unsure of his words, he waved at her low and light, paired with a smile.

“Who's that?” Harry asked beside him.

“Ex student of Hogwarts, a year senior to us.” he spoke without turning to his company, as he saw her walking towards him in a leisurely pace.

“Hello, Draco.” according to him, it came off as odd and cold with a hand on his arm light as feather, but soon he dismissed it as the effect of the deep voice she owned giving off the air of an authoritarian person.

“Hello, Clementine. How have you been?” he asked in return.

“I'm good, yes.” her eyes shifted to Harry for a brief quarter of second. “Is he your company?” she asked, voice deep yet smooth, just like Draco remembered her.

“Yes, one of them. The rest are out on the beach, Blaise, Pansy...you know them.” Draco nodded his head.

“Nice to meet you, Harry Potter.” she offered him a hand to shake with a sweet smile stretching her maroon colored lips. “I'm Clementine Morph. We have the same roots but different branches, I guess.”

“Yes, you must have been a Slytherin.” Harry laughed politely, as he shook the hand with a delicate hold.

“Yes, indeed.” she nodded, and Draco glanced between them uneasily.

“So, what have you been upto?” Morph turned back to Draco, her hand back on his arm.

“Nothing much. I'm taking a course of Healer, and that's all about it.” from the corner of his eyes, he saw Harry move a bit with his drink. Supressing the urge to turn his way, he lock eyes with black orbs instead and something smug laughed inside him.

“I'll be out,” he muttered to Draco and was gone within a second leaving him to worry about the woman standing before him in a red velvet dress that ended with a border of lacy ruffles an inch above her knees.

“Good, good.” refering to Draco's previous words, her eyes shifted to her own hand on his arm, rubbing the fabric between her fingers.

The touch was really gentle, and he doubted he would have felt it if he wasn't aware of her presence or not looking at her as she bent down on the counter with a sigh that fanned him in the face.

“You know, it was much easier back in school. Once you get out of there, things just get really tiring and stressful.” her fingers travelled down to his hand, scrutinizing his nails with sparkling eyes.

Draco hummed, barely paying attention to her words, for it was drawn to the skin exposed by the V of the dress plunging low on her chest. Next, her words divulged into the discription of the private investigation agency she owned in Bicester, and all the while her fingers traveled from his arm to face then to the skin below the ribbon around his neck, an idle touch brushing the skin ever so lightly.

“Do you have plans tonight?”

As bad as he had wanted to move out of the cabin for the night in his rage of revenge, mulling over the thought, he retracted an inch when the idea of leaving the group behind didn't suit him good. After all, he was  going back to his mother's apartment tomorrow to spend the weekend with her before he departed for Newport again.

“This is me executing it.” Draco said low, knowing she would hear with her face just an inch away.

“Can't they excuse you for a night?” soft lips touched the loose skin of his ear, and he laughed.

Draco nodded his head slowly, and said, “They definitely can, but, I don't want to leave them behind. I'm going back to Welsh the day after.”

“Okay,” she breathed, withdrawing her mouth from his ear, but brushed her face against his while pulling away. “Okay, but — come with me.” she whispered again while her fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist. “Just a few minutes,”

There was an unusual apeal in the woman, which pulled him through the crowd towards the men's washroom. Breath shortened by her words, he noticed the couple centimetres more the slit of the dress revealed of her right thigh, the lace brushing the skin as she walked in a quick pace with his hand in her grip. The music playing behind him could be blamed, but so could be the alcohol in his system for the minute details he noticed about her, like the bounce of her back as she walked, or the fabric of her dress riding up with the fast movement of her legs showing off even more skin for him.

The door of the stall locked behing him as soon as they entered the cubicle in a flurry of clothes brushing against each other. Two hands grabbed at his ribs and pushed him against a wall and started devouring on his mouth. Draco's hands were fast to grab her hips to gain the little leverage he could in the smallness of the toilet, with her hands pressed to his chest.

There was a moment when his mind travelled to the people waiting for him on the beach, to Harry who had informed him about his whereabouts before heading out, and then to Azalea kissing Harry, laughing with her head on his shoulder, and he couldn't decide if he was jealous of Harry or her, or of both for having each other. But the thought was gone when Morph pulled his shirt out of its neat tuck and slid a hand under the fabric.

“God,” she uttered making Draco open his eyes.

“What?” he asked, confused at her frustration.

“This looks so fine on you.” she said keeping his question unanswered.

“Thanks — ”

“It's a big trouble in these situations...ugh!” Draco laughed and passed a lame apology towards her before getting distracted by her smudged lipstick.

Swift hands touched the soft flesh of her behind and squeezed hard as she groaned between the kiss, stabbing nails in his abs in return probably in hopes of wringing out the same reaction from him, but it only aroused him more.

“Merlin — ”

His hands hands travelled upward to her breasts that were mostly holding him back, and he turned to press her back against the wall, dragging a wet kiss down her jaw on the way. The skin stretched between his teeth when he bit at the pulse throbbing at her neck, just below the sharp jawbone framing her face.

“Ah,” Morph breathed, scratching a trail of red lines by her nails. “Well — that's enough, now.”

Shaky fingers latched at his flyers, despite of the cut in her tone which gave Draco a hard time breathing normally, and unfastened them with one hand while the other grabbed his neck in a hard grip to drag him into another kiss.

“Ugh — I swear to Merlin, I'll rip your shirt off.” Morph huffed on the lack of buttons for her leverage, after a fierce tug at the smooth fabric.

“I can do the same with your dress, if you'd like.” Draco laughed when she pushed him on the toilet seat with his pants halfway down to the knees, while helping her to lift her dress, revealing the solid red panties reaching upto her hip bones. “Then you can go back home in your panties.”

Long fingers grabbed his face and he closed his eyes sensing the weight that sat on his bare thighs, just an inch away from his member. “I'm most definitely taking you with me, then.”

With a tongue travelling his mouth, the chances of him speaking anymore were cancelled, leaving with only the liberty of moaning when wet heat finally pressed down on his crotch, rolling in prominent circles with intentions of increasing the hotness building around their stomachs wailing to be rode. Without a care of their clothes getting soaked in perspiration despite of the cold of the whether or the fibre walls surrounding them, Draco let go of the built up tension constricting his heart from the Christmas Eve, with the memories of the hand wrapped around Harry's waist from the very beginning of the day, of the lips that had kissed him a hundred times within the twenty hours, and of the body pressed to his like a crawler on a bark.

Comparing the times would be lame for the purpose, since the task of hiding the pink hue on his face was much harder with a lot more eyes on him than before, though, handling it was pretty simple for him with a couple of snarky comments paired with the eye roll. It was better than feeling embarrassed by the secrecy, even if Harry passed silly looks over Azalea's shoulder.

Hasty goodbyes and goodnights had been bidden with a faint wish of seeing each other again someday. The fact that his mind was completely trained on Harry's reaction was unnerving him to the point that he once scoffed at particularly nothing yet everything when their eyes met again to pass the unknown expression the man had been giving him since the last few hours.

The hour they returned to the cabin might not have been decent but no one really bothered about mentioning it, noting that they had the whole weekend to relax and overcome any side-effects of the night. For the few moments that Draco remained conscious after returning, he regretted his decision of not going away with Clementine solely because of the fact that Azalea and Harry just couldn't let go of each other's mouth. Around three in the morning, he finally sighed in relief to be able to hit the bed and sleep out the blurry hours and atrocious sexual sounds from the couple next door.

Luckily enough, Draco didn't get a glimpse of the woman the next midday he woke up, amazingly without a headache. His heart felt lighter than it had on the Eve for definite reasons, though the tightness remained from the compulsion of departing from the little vacation he had been allowed with the people he liked.

The fatigue locked in his limbs from the alcohol was yet to ebb away when he was called for lunch — or breakfast — he didn't know. Though by the contents of it, it looked like breakfast.

“I've got a terrible headache.” Blaise informed while chewing on the eggs they were served and groaned with his head in his hands.

“No one brought any Potion for headache?” Pansy sighed, seemingly no different than Blaise.

“I could use some too, off!” Ron huffed.

“We never had dinner last night, remember?” Hermione inquired. It's probably just that with some alcohol. Eat something and we should be fine.

“Yes, that's the only way. We don't have any apothecary near by.” Harry shrugged. “Do you all have headaches?”

“Not me,” Draco shook his head. Surprisingly, he laughed lightly.

“I'm never drinking again.” Hermione shook her head with a sigh. “The hangovers are worst. I prefer any pain over headache, and I'm dead serious.”

Ron earned a hard glare when he snickered, and tried to cover up with a kiss to Hermione's cheek which she dodged. “Hey, c'mon.”

She shook her head again. “I'm not fine, trust me.”

“You've probably got it worst. It's okay.” the redhead soothed, provoking a smile from Draco.

“Azalea left around ten in the morning. Said she had some errands.” Harry informed the group.

“Yes, I know. I closed the door, numpty.” Hermione cut with a huff.

“Okay, let's talk some sense. The cottage cost is two hundred twenty galleons, so it's twenty each, and the bill of the previous night was hundred and forty galleons, nine sickles and sixteen knuts. I would have split the bill but I was too drunk, just like you, so we will just have to devide it equally, which makes approximately eighty three for everyone, which further adds to hundred and three.” Blaise explained with a clipped tone.

“Whoopsie-daisy!” Pansy covered her mouth with her hand, like she had done something wrong.

“Yes, I had to pay hundred and fifty galleons all by myself yesternight. At least, Azalea was decent enough to pay for her things.” Blaise reprimanded with his eyes planted to his plate.

“I'm so sorry!” Ron gasped with eyes wide but Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“I'm sorry, you had to. I was in my senses, so know that you paid for everyone. I was just not — ” Hermione was politely cut off by the man.

“Don't worry about it. It's fine as long as you pay your shares, really.” Blaise smiled at her.

“Yes, sure. Thanks a lot, by the way.”

As the evening rolled by, Draco's desire to leave for home subsided into nothingness when they started their evening chat over snacks, the occupants feeling fresh after a afternoon nap they sneaked after the late lunch. While they were all sleeping, Draco had stepped out on the backyard to catch a glimpse of the lake they had preferred to live nearby but entirely skipped in the midst of all the celebration. At the door, when he was pushing his feet into the boots, Harry had turned the corner leading to the door to join him. His heart had skipped a beat, but he had successfully covered it up as always.

“We never went that way.” Harry observed with a smile.

“Never got the time.” Draco replied.

“So, you're going back to Welsh on Monday?”

Regardless of the obvious question, he had simply nodded his head, looking out on the graveled border of the water body and the pair of benches fitted at the end of the path.

“When are you moving to No. 12?” the mild sun reflected a mixture of pink and orange on the winter clouds bordering the horizon, and Draco's mind flashed him back to the stocky winters of Scotland with little mercy of heat.

“I don't know. The Dursleys never asked me to leave. They are still living with Aunt Marge.” Harry said, his eyes on Draco stapled with a small smile. “But, I will, someday.” he turned away to the lake with a nod when Draco didn't look back.

Draco cracked a smile and turned to Harry with a look. “We can help you with the cleaning. I know, it's a big house.”

“That's not it.” he laughed, the ribbon on his braid catching the sun rays for a brief second to attract his attention. “Besides, you won't be coming even if I invite you.”

“Yeah, sorry, I have — ”

“I know,” Harry nodded.

“You could change the ribbon for ornaments.” Draco pointed at the tuck of his loose braid. “Or, both?”

“No, not both.” he laughed with a grimace. “Weird,”

“I wouldn't know.” shrugging his shoulder, Draco kicked at the gravels, sending a few rolling down the slop of the bank.

“Wish we had gone swimming here while we could.” Harry mused.

“It's not allowed, dummy.” with a smack on his thigh, he pointed at the sign of No Swimming erected just a few steps away from the bench.

“Still,”

With the closure of the sunset, they had headed inside rather hastily with the mumbles of the other's floating out on the backyard. From the doorway, the boys could smell the fragrance of tea and cookies tingling their nostrils, and they had jogged in.

“Like, come on!” Pansy insisted loudly. “Those idiots don't know nothing about fashion. How can they even possibly think of questioning the quality of fabric? I swear to Merlin, it was pure Mulberry silk and they wanted the dress for a hundred! How does that even make sense!”

“People just want a good bargain, that's it.” Hermione shook her head.

“Yeah, they don't care about quality.” Pansy agreed.

“Once, I had this bloke walk into my cafe wearing a neon jacket in the broad daylight, obviously attracting some attention. But then, he picked up a chaos with a loyal customer for "staring too much" and demanding that he had right to wear whatever he wanted.” Blaise explained with an annoyed eye roll. “If you are confident enough to wear whatever you like, you need to be thick skinned enough to at the least ignore criticising stares. Now, who's going to tell him that? I was so angry at him, and the lady called the Auror station to report harrasment on her, but the guy had same complaints about her as well. Dear Lord!”

“Then, what happened?” Ron laughed in amusement.

“The Auror never filed any complaints, just adviced not to disturb the other diners. And, I had to bear this offhanded embarrassment, which is worse.”

The evening ended around seven when Blaise straightened up to warn himself about his deadline for some orders his mother had received for the bakery in Liverpool and his stepfather, Bernard visiting him for a belated Christmas dinner.

“I would have liked to have a peaceful dinner without a stranger lurking around in the room, but that's not in my luck, I suppose.” he had said with a sigh.

When Draco ducked in his room to grab his suitcase, a hand had tapped him on his shoulder while he was half bent into his suitcase.

“Oh, hey.” he greeted, registering the prepped up appearance of Harry, ready to leave.

“Are you going to be there at the Burrow on New Year's?” he asked quite suddenly.

“I...don't think so.” Draco shook his head uncertainly, his heart doing its funny rhythm in his chest to cease his important movements to pack the last of his belongings in the suitcase.

“Oh,” he nodded. “Okay,”

“Listen, I would have, but — ”

His words were cut short to incoherent mumbles when another mouth pressed on his rather softly. The startling action deferred his preparation to precisely a quarter of the hour when Harry sighed out of the room without Draco, hair twisted into a bun along with the same golden piece of chiffon.

But before that, with his hands on either side of Draco's face,  half a minute had passed while Harry had stood there without moving an inch, not even his lips which were pressed to the other's, eyes screwed shut with intentions of blocking any and every ray of light that could confirm his action to himself. Like he was dying to kiss back, yet hated himself for doing it all the same.