Cool Has Left the Building

Author's Note: Um... yeah, this is what happens when you tell yourself you will update your Fiction Alley site one of these days and neglect to set any dates at all. ::cringe::

So, hey, in case anybody over here remembers me, I'm updating my site! And posting a bunch of fics I've written since my last post, about three years ago. Starting off with the second (and last) one-shot sequel to Confession Is Good For the Soul, which was written after HBP, and is not DH-compliant.

Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me summarize. (Quickie recap of Confessions)

Draco and Harry are working at a clinic in the Shetland Islands, Harry as a mediwizard and Draco as a Trainee Healer. They've become friends, and Draco has been slowly falling for Harry in the last year or so. Draco essentially married a girl just like the girl who married dear old Dad, which is not a good thing, as Draco has discovered. She wants to build up their social status again and be part of wealthy pureblood London society once he's done his training; he's decided he likes it in Shetland, and has no interest in wealthy pureblood society anyway. They're divorcing.

Harry was with Ginny for a few years, but they've parted on amicable terms.

Hermione and Ron parted on amicable terms as well, if you consider The War of the Roses as amicable. Ron has also pretty much buggered off on Harry as well.

Harry gets some weird kind of curse that makes everyone pathologically terrified of him except for Draco, so Draco has to take him into the clinic's isolation place and try to cure him. Turns out the only way to cure him of this aura of malevolence he's emitting involuntarily is to show trust in him by casting spells that are accompanied by personal confessions; the confessor's trust erodes the malevolence. To make things a bit easier for Draco, Harry decides to return the confessions, as a sort of tit for tat.

The last confession Draco makes is that he's in love with Harry. Harry does not return the feeling. But, being Harry, and having had a pretty strong crush on Draco in the past, he decides he'd like to see where this might go :)

ooo000ooo

Harry ran a hand through his hair and did not look at the clock.

Dinner menu. It would be a good idea to read a dinner menu before Draco got here. Draco had probably already been to this restaurant, so he would be familiar with the menu, and Harry didn't particularly want to order something foul just because he was so nervous about their first date that he ended up just pointing at the menu at random. Nor did he wish to look like an idiot by ordering bread sticks or breath mints. He checked to make sure his fly was done up.

The cod should be good. Maybe he could ask Draco; Draco might know what was good here, and that might get conversation flowing.

Harry blew out his breath impatiently. You'd think he'd never been on a first date before. This had a dreadful air of Cho Chang to it. He glanced around the restaurant furtively, almost expecting to see Madam Puddifoot beaming at him from behind a cluster of floating hearts.

This was ridiculous. This wasn't Cho Chang. He knew Draco very well, had talked with him plenty in the year that he'd been working in Shetland, and never felt nervous about holding up his end of a conversation. And he'd been on plenty of dates between Cho and now - granted, most of them had been with Ginny, but he'd dated other people too, and hadn't made too much of a dolt of himself.

Breathe in, breathe out. It's just a date with a friend and colleague who has the potential to become more. He checked his hair in the reflection on the window. Winced and firmly turned away.

Ah, but Draco wasn't just a friend or colleague any more, was he? They knew each other much too well for that. And yet they didn't know each other all that well at all; he didn't know, for example, whether Draco had actually ever been to this particular restaurant in Brae.

He took off his tie. He looked stupid with a tie; this wasn't a job interview.

Besides, this wasn't just any first date. Happily, the usual jitter of "does he like me" wasn't there, but in its place was "he likes me... a lot." Draco had said he was in love with him. And that was a hell of a piece of baggage to bring into a first date.

He put his tie back on.

God, how could he have missed that? How could he have been so clueless? And bloody hell, where was Hermione when he needed her the most? He had a desperate urge to talk to her, or Ginny. But Hermione was an Unspeakable and Ginny was in training in Mercia, and even if Harry had been able to reach either of them, he had no clue how he would bring up this particular topic.

Hermione, remember Malfoy? Of course you remember him, he introduced you to the word Mudblood. Well, you know we're working together, and well the thing is, he says he's in love with me and I can't wait to get into his pants.

No, no that was awful.

All right then: Ginny, remember Malfoy? Not the one who almost got you killed with Tom Riddle's diary, the other one - his son, the one who always called you Girl Weasley and The Weaselette and wrote songs mocking your brother. Yeah, that's the one. It turns out he's not only a great Healer, like I told you, he's also quite fit and he's in love with me and I'm thinking this might be a chance to find true love, or at least a lot of snogging and sex up against the wall, you know how much that turns me on. Oh - and I almost got off with him in the potions cupboard at the clinic too.

OK, maybe not.

The twins? He quickly dismissed that thought with a shudder. The twins would be in hysterics within minutes and would probably be sending him strobing, anatomically correct, jingle-shrieking sex aids at the Clinic for weeks.

Times like this, he missed Ron more than he could express. Not that he would've gone into his feelings much with Ron, but it might have been comforting to be able to share this with somebody as clueless about romantic relationships as Harry himself. Provided, of course, that Ron didn't immediately die of apoplexy upon hearing it was Draco Malfoy Harry was hoping to engage in a romantic relationship.

Harry covered his eyes with his hands and almost missed the sound of a soft pop of Apparition.

"Sorry, have you been waiting long?" Draco asked, looking somewhat nervous.

All right, how exactly had he worked with Draco for over a year and missed how fit he was? True, normally he saw him wearing Healer's robes and in the middle of Splinchings, vomit, and unsightly skin conditions, and not in a blue shirt that complemented the colour of his eyes, and black trousers that showed off the shape of his rather attractive - but still.

"No, no, just got here," he said, pleased that his voice sounded perfectly nonchalant. "Shall we?" He indicated the dining room.

They entered the tiny restaurant and found an empty table, and Draco took a seat, eying the menu appreciatively. "I've never come here. Do you know what's good?"

"Really? You've never been? Neither have I, but the cod looks like it could be good."

"Oh good - I must admit, it's good to love fish when you live here, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry chuckled, "fish and mutton."

And just like that, it wasn't awkward at all. It was just dinner, with a friend who was interesting and charming and with whom he had an easy banter shaped by a year of a good working relationship and six days of close contact in the quarantine house.

Just dinner. Nothing awkward about that. Just exciting, and fun, and very very good for his ego.

And so easy. They were soon chatting comfortably, and it could've been any lunch break at the Clinic if not for their lack of work robes and the ambiance, and he felt a bit silly over his initial nervousness. They were talking about their patients, funny cases they'd seen since they'd settled on their careers, poking gentle fun at the other Clinic staff, and it was totally casual except for little tiny hints of something, here and there. A gaze that lingered just a bit too long. A smile that was a bit wider than it would've been at the Clinic.

A realization that this was a very good-looking man he was sharing dinner with. A sense of butterflies taking flight in his stomach when Draco smiled, when Draco laughed, when Draco deftly speared a piece of his cod fillet with his fork.

OK, that was probably getting a bit sappy, and possibly creepy, but still. It felt good. Very good.

He poured them both a second glass of wine, watched the clean line of Draco's throat as he drank, found himself wondering what it would taste like to run his lips down to the hollow at its base--

"... and then Brian said, 'No, that's only for panda bears.'"

"You're joking!" he said, fairly certain that fit with whatever it was that Draco had just said. God, how embarrassing; he was totally thrown off and flustered and clueless as to what the hell his date was talking about. Happily, he appeared to have guessed right, as Draco was smiling instead of puzzled by a non-sequitur.

"You didn't know much about the Shetlands either before moving here, did you?" Draco asked, and Harry vaguely wondered what that had to do with panda bears - other than as a sign that he should probably pay more attention to the conversation, and get his mind off Draco's throat.

"Erm, no, not really. Ginny and I went flying through the Orkneys the summer between my first and second years as apprentice mediwizard. Saw the opening here when it came up and figured I'd try it out, see how it compared to the Orkneys."

"It's funny, people either love it or hate it when they get here. Brian counts the days till he can get a real job down south; Helga came here for her apprenticeship about a million years ago, and never left."

"Same with people born here. Pepper and Gwen wouldn't leave it for the world, but I'm told the mediwitch I replaced loathed it almost from birth."

"That's too bad."

"It's gorgeous. I look out my window and I see the cliffs off Papa Stour. Can't imagine a better sight to wake up to. Ron's older brother Bill and his wife used to live at a place called Shell Cottage; beautiful spot, too, but here, it's also so far away from... well, everything you don't want."

"So, d'you think you'll be staying for good, then?" Draco asked, spearing another bite of fish.

"Well, that's hard to say in the long term, but in the short term, I can't imagine going anywhere else. This is home." He smiled, thinking of the place he'd made his own, glanced at Draco and for a moment would've sworn Draco's pupils were dilating.

Because of him. Because of whatever he'd said or done just now. It felt intensely flattering, but a little overwhelming, that he'd been unintentionally making Draco feel this way for who knew how long.

Draco cleared his throat and looked away, and Harry glanced around. They were almost alone in the restaurant; only one other couple here, deeply engrossed in their own conversation. He casually rested his hand against Draco's for a moment, smiled, and felt a little swoop in his stomach as Draco smiled back at him before they both drew back again.

This was so much better than fifth year. Harry remembered, vividly, being inexplicably drawn to the sneering blond prat who had made his life hell, noting that it was really rather unfair how his hair was always perfect, how everything about him was polished, how he almost never looked nervous or off-balance or sloppy in any way. How he seemed to rule over the other Slytherins effortlessly, seemed to always get laughs and smiles and approval.

And he suddenly remembered, vividly, the first time he'd woken up from a dream in which Draco had ended up pulling him off in a niche next to a knight's armor, and--

He cleared his throat and hastily purged that particular image from his mind. "So what about your place? Are you moved in at all yet?"

"No, not really." Draco took a sip of his wine. "I've brought a few of my things over, but I don't actually take possession until--"

"Draco?"

Harry looked up and nearly choked. Oh shit. Jessica Malfoy.

"Draco, so glad I found you," she said pleasantly, tucking an artfully stray lock of ash-blond hair behind her ear. "Pepper and Gwen said you might be here. And Harry, how nice to see you too."

Draco half-rose from his chair, frowning slightly. "Jessica? What's--"

"Oh please, don't trouble yourself," she said, gesturing to him to sit back down again. "I only came to let you know that the house deal is done. The buyers just signed."

"Oh," Draco said, obviously at a loss as to why she had tracked him down to tell him. "Erm, thank you."

"And to congratulate you, of course."

Draco blinked.

She laughed charmingly. "Your medical triumph yesterday. It's being talked about. You should be proud," she said, smiling warmly at him before turning her dazzling smile towards Harry. "Harry, how are you feeling?'

"Oh. Erm. All right. All right. I mean, good, thank you. Fine." Stop babbling now, he told himself, you sound like an idiot. Though there was probably no set of syllables that wouldn't sound completely asinine when babbled at the wife of a man you were having a romantic dinner with.

Jessica touched Draco's shoulder lightly. "Why didn't you say anything? Your colleagues couldn't wait to tell me all about it when I firecalled you at the Clinic; they didn't realize you'd not told me a thing."

"Were you home yesterday after I came back from St. Mungo's?" Draco said, confused.

"Yes, of course. In my studio."

"I thought you were still on tour in Cornwall."

"Heavens, no." She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Typical dedicated Healer," she said, smiling at Harry. "Forgets the rest of the world most of the time."

Harry smiled uncomfortably.

"They said the case may even be published in Healer's Annual. Considering the difficulty of the procedure, and all the other... circumstances of the case."

Harry winced. A previously undiscovered Death Eater poison, affecting famous Harry Potter, and requiring innovative Healing from a mere Trainee Healer, who just happened to be a former Death Eater as well. Bloody hell.

Draco's pained expression seemed to echo Harry's thoughts. "Healer's Annual? Merlin, I hope not," he said with a grimace.

Jessica's eyes lost their charming twinkle. "Of course." She sighed. "Well, do let me know when you sign the papers."

"I will."

"Go back to your dinner. Good to see you, Harry."

"Right. Erm, you too."

She left, her perfect blond hair swinging alluringly, even the door of the restaurant looking posh and elegant as it swung gracefully shut behind her.

There was a hideously uncomfortable pause.

"Well. That was." Draco swallowed. "That was awkward."

"Quite."

"Don't suppose a date can get much worse than a soon-to-be-ex-spouse showing up to see if there's anything left in the marriage."

"Is that what that was?" Harry asked, still somewhat unnerved.

"Pretty much, I'd say. Jessica loves the limelight. Drives her mental that I don't any more."

"And your reaction to the news that people were talking about you..."

Draco shrugged. "I'd say that was probably not what she was hoping for."

"Right." Harry poured them both another glass. "Let's drink to the lack of limelight, then," he said, and Draco's lips curved into a smile.

"To being far away from everything you don't want," he said, and Harry clinked their glasses together with a grin.

ooo000ooo

They were at the pudding - very nice gelato - when Harry finally realized he would not be able to win his internal struggle to not ask the stupidest of stupid questions.

"Why me?" he blurted.

"Pardon?"

"I just... why me? Why would you want me?" Damn, but that sounded even stupider out loud than it had in his head. And to make things worse, he could remember the tone of Draco's voice as he'd told him why, just the day before yesterday; how he'd been impressed by Harry's ability to let bygones be bygones, how he'd noticed that they felt the same way about so many things, how he'd slowly (and against his will) fallen in love with Harry over a year - though he'd probably changed his mind by now, because for some bizarre reason Harry's ease and confidence around Draco had completely taken their leave of him, and left him a blithering, insecure mess. And an insensitive idiot, to boot.

Draco flushed deeply and dropped his eyes, and Harry wanted to slap himself.

"I'm sorry. I... bugger. That wasn't exactly... erm." He looked down at his gelato and realized he was probably being a little overenthusiastic in his swirling of the orange and chocolate together, and any minute now the whole thing would whirl right out of its little bowl and splat against the wall. Fantastic. "I'll stop talking now. Unless you'd like me to change the subject, in which case I'll ask you what was the most disgusting thing you saw during your time at St. Mungo's."

Draco was startled into a laugh. "What?"

"Subject change. So I don't feel like a complete arse."

"So you want me to tell you the most disgusting thing I've seen while we're eating?"

"I'm a mediwizard, remember? I can't be disgusted."

Draco laughed. "God, medical talk during dinner, that's one thing Jessica's always hated."

There was a deep silence.

"All right, my turn to feel like an arse," Draco muttered.

"That's... all right," Harry said.

More silence.

"Do you--" "I was just--" they said at the same time.

"Sorry," said Harry, chuckling. "Go on."

"Oh, no, you go on."

"Nothing, nothing, I was just going to say, do you mind talking about her?"

"Who - Jessica?" Draco blinked. "No, not really. I thought you would... especially after, well..."

"Mind? No." Harry frowned. "Although... just how... erm." He cleared his throat. "I'm not sure how to ask this, but how close are you to, you know..."

"Ending it?" Harry nodded. "We haven't signed the papers or done the divorcing spell yet, but that's all scheduled. For Tuesday the fifth."

Harry shook his head, bemused, and took another spoonful of gelato.

"What?"

"Sorry, just - I don't really have any first-hand experience with it, but from what I saw from Hermione and Ron, it seems like divorce should be more... I don't know, something that couldn't really be hidden from your co-workers. Let alone something where the soon-to-be ex can show up in the middle of a date and it's not a spectacular disaster all around."

Draco smiled wryly. "You might be surprised. I don't know anything about Granger and Weasley's split, but with us it really hasn't been that big a strain keeping it discreet. It's been unpleasant, but hardly dramatic. She just said that she was moving to London, and I said that I didn't want to, and that was... that, really."

"Really?"

"I take it Granger and Weasley didn't end like that."

"God, no." Harry grimaced. "Oh, God, no. Not a pleasant topic, believe me," he said, shaking his head. It wasn't just that this wasn't his story to tell; he just preferred to forget it as much as possible. Screaming fights and weeping and recriminations and resentment that had drawn everyone around them into the bitterness, until he'd longed for the happy, carefree days of Ron and Lavender and Hermione's tiny bird battalion. Their friends and family had heaved a huge, weary sigh of relief when they'd finally split for good.

"Do either of them know that we work together?" Draco asked.

"Oh yeah, it came up with Hermione. She was pretty interested. She looked you up, told me you were all right--" Harry bit his lip. Ah, what a charming thing to share. Tactful, too.

"Good for her," Draco said, seeming a bit surprised.

"What, for not trusting you, or for agreeing with me that I should give you a chance?"

"Both," Draco smiled. "So, what does Granger do these days?"

"I can't talk about that. Neither can she. She's an Unspeakable."

"Really?" Draco grinned. "So's Millicent Bulstrode. Frustrating, isn't it? You ask how's work and they give you this prissy little 'I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you' look. D'you know Millie didn't even want to answer me when I asked if she had time for lunch one day?"

"You still keep in touch with her, then?" Harry asked, going for a casual tone and trying to ignore the way his heart was fluttering as he scooped up the last of his gelato and their date neared its natural end. The waiter was giving them a bit of an impatient look, and, this being Shetland, they could probably count on him coming over and telling them to shove off any moment now.

It was ridiculous. His heart was actually fluttering, like he was sixteen or something. But this was... this was important. This could really be something. This wasn't Robin, or Bruce, or Thomas, who had all been exciting and unknown and, in Thomas's case, a little dangerous. Or Lianna, the girl he'd dated in between one bout of Ginny and another...

This was somebody who knew him, knew him for good and bad, and someone he knew well too. This was Draco, with whom he could quite possibly fall in love. It almost felt like he was halfway there already.

He swallowed hard, realizing Draco had just finished talking about Millicent Bulstrode and Harry hadn't made any kind of response, and now he couldn't, because he had no idea what the hell Draco had said. "So, erm... d'you want to go back to my place after we're done here?"

Draco's eyebrows went up, and Harry felt his cheeks heating in mild embarrassment. Once again, his cool appeared to have left the building.

"Sorry - I don't mean that in a crass way, I just..." He cleared his throat. "I... want to see where this goes. I mean, I want to get to know you better. I also really want to stop saying things that come out sounding this asinine after they're out of my mouth."

Draco laughed. "Right, then." They called for the bill and prepared to Apparate. And it wasn't until they were at his doorstep that Harry had the presence of mind to wince as he remembered how he'd left the place.

This was ridiculous. He was unbelievably nervous, in a way he certainly hadn't been when he'd shown Draco his place on Sunday. It was different though, showing a home to a friend and colleague and showing it to... whatever it was that Draco was right now. He began to wish he hadn't stopped himself from tidying overmuch, because it was quite obvious that he'd done something. The kitchen was gleaming to an almost Aunt Petunia-like degree. Everything put away, surfaces sparkling, spices alphabetized. The living room was equally clinically pristine. The entryway and the dining room, by contrast, still had the same messy piles of books and papers Draco had seen last Tuesday, and oh, very nice, there was a basket of dirty laundry left sitting on the landing, halfway down the stairs.

"Erm." He flicked his wand at the basket, sending it down to the laundry room and wincing as a pair of shorts fell out and lay proudly splayed across the stairs.

Of course it was the shorts with brightly glowing pink Snitches that Ginny had bought him as a gag gift. He swished his wand a bit harder than he meant to and sent the shorts flying down the stairs, leaving a trailing glowing pink afterimage burned into his retinas. He turned, hoping Draco hadn't seen them.

No such luck; Draco was blinking rapidly as though partly blinded, and pressing his lips together. "I like what you've done with the place," he finally said, and Harry couldn't help it, he started laughing, and Draco joined in.

"Erm. Yeah. Sorry about that." He cleared his throat. "Can I get you anything?"

"Coffee?"

"Sure, yeah, I've got some. I think." He rummaged through his cupboard, noting the way its messiness contrasted with the rest of the kitchen.

"Berthold Biscuits?" Draco said, nodding at a tin on the counter.

"D'you want any? They were Ginny's, but she probably won't be around for a while."

"You two are still friendly, then, I take it," said Draco.

"Yeah, of course." He smiled, thinking of Ginny. Wondering if she would ever in a million years believe who was in his kitchen right now. "She's... well I won't say she's like a sister to me, because that would imply all sorts of uncomfortable things about what I think of sibling relationships, but she's like family. A... cousin, maybe. D'you want any Bertholds?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah, I'll have one. Haven't in a long time. They don't sell them in Lerwick."

Harry cast a floating spell on the tin of biscuits and the two cups and guided them into the living room. He waved his wand at the window, dimming the light a bit, realizing only after he'd done so that that it probably looked like he was trying for a romantic atmosphere or something. Blew out his breath impatiently, because that wasn't it at all; it was just that having a noonday sun glaring in through your window this late at night got irritating sometimes. Though apparently many of the Muggles got used to it. Not that they had much of a choice.

He settled their biscuits and coffees on to the coffee table, congratulating himself on being a good host despite the unfortunate underwear incident. Immediately reminded himself that he didn't have to play host. Draco knew him.

Well... he knew him as a colleague, and patient. There was always a possibility that Draco might take a closer look at his slobbish home environment and troll-like manners and find his romantic interest waning dramatically.

Except Draco wasn't looking at Harry's slobbish home environment. He was at the living room window, gazing at the spectacular view of the stacks off Papa Stour, with the waves frothing around down at the bottom, seaspray reaching up to the sky.

And he was gazing at the view with the same rapt attention Harry still gave it, even after three years living here. Like the flames of a fire, the sea was endlessly fascinating, by turns playful and peaceful and angry and turbulent, and never the same. Sunlight was glinting off the waves right now, and Harry had a sudden image of a bed of jewels twinkling in a dragon's lair.

It was everything he loved about this place; life and nature and solitude.

... almost solitude. Harry joined Draco at the window.

"It's gorgeous," Draco said softly. "And there's almost nobody here to see it."

"Makes it even more gorgeous," Harry replied, his voice hushed.

Draco nodded slowly. "You get the feeling you're the only person in the world sometimes, out here."

Harry smiled. "On Papa Stour especially. There's only about twenty Muggles on the whole island."

"How many wizards?"

"Five, I think. We don't get together much. My place is unplottable, so it's hard for people to drop in."

"Funny how that doesn't seem to matter out here. This is a fantastic place for people who don't mind their own company."

Harry nodded. That was one of the best things about Shetland: its immense solitude and peace. The way you could feel one with the place itself, with the rocks and the sea and the birds, with few humans around to draw a line between yourself and nature.

"Fantastic place for people who like feeling like they belong to the place itself," he said. "And not just to the group of people who live there."

Draco was gazing at the sea. "It feels like you belong here, more than ever anywhere else, doesn't it? Which is odd, if you're not actually from here."

"The wizarding population's pretty good about that, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Lots of Shetland wizards just don't like other people much. They won't shun you just because you're an outsider; they'll shun you because they shun everybody. One social event a month is more than enough for them."

Draco chuckled. "Wonder if the Shetland Muggles do the same thing."

Harry shrugged. Funny that it had never occurred to him to wonder.

"Did... did Ginny like it here?"

"Oh yeah," Harry smiled. "She loved visiting. Didn't spend a lot of time here, though. Not just because of her career - she just needed to be around her family and friends." He turned, catching a look of... what was that? Relief? Some complicated expression across Draco's face.

Harry glanced at their biscuits and coffee, and suddenly realized he had no interest in them whatsoever. And Draco probably didn't either, judging from the way he was looking at Harry. Harry moved closer slowly, and felt their easy camaraderie once again take flight, as the butterflies in Harry's stomach went into a frenzied whirl of activity.

And he'd probably have to make the first move here, he realized, because odds were, Draco was even more nervous than he was. He felt a small glow of pride for having figured that out all by himself - no Hermione or Ginny to help him - and he slowly came closer, put a hand on the nape of Draco's neck, gave him a slight tug, and they moved into each other's arms.

The kiss was gentle, at first. Like the kiss this morning in the Potions room. And just like the kiss in the Potions room, it made Harry hard in an instant, and he went from nervous-aroused to fully ready for anything and everything so fast it made him dizzy.

Ah, lovely; welcome back to age fifteen. At this rate he'd be lucky if he didn't come in his pants the moment there was a hint of tongue.

He forced himself to not shove Draco up against the wall and start frotting against him right away. Men generally didn't need as much build-up time as women, he'd found, but there was still a modicum of restraint expected, no matter the gender. Immediately grabbing at Draco's privates might not go over well. Besides, he'd already done that in the Potions room this morning; no need to repeat the performance right now.

He ran a hand through Draco's hair, concentrating on the silky feel, the velvet of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth. The moan of pleasure Draco made as his eyes closed in delight. Their bodies pressed together and he felt his heart skip a beat as Draco leaned back against the wall next to the window and pulled him closer. Nobody was going to come in, nobody was going to interrupt them - but before he could tell himself to slow down and enjoy the moment, they were caressing fiercely, Draco's right hand cupping his jaw and his left running down to Harry's waist.

Merlin, that felt fantastic. Draco's hair smelled like sea-breeze, and his mouth tasted like red wine.

And they were running their hands over each other, and it was even hotter than this morning, because he'd been wound so bloody tight all day, anticipating this, replaying their encounter in the Potions room over and over again and he was probably never going to be able to go into that room again without getting an instant hard-on.

Draco's fingers were warm against the back of his neck and Harry gasped, catching his breath as Draco's lips and tongue moved down his throat and he licked the hollow at the base. He brought their lips together again and took Draco's mouth fiercely, red wine and seabreeze filling his senses as the pressure built and they groaned together, and the hell with restraint, he nudged one foot in between Draco's and felt a swoop in his stomach as Draco immediately parted his thighs slightly and shifted so that they were pressed together, then thrust against him slowly.

"Oh fuck," he whispered. "Yeah, oh yeah..." he pushed back against Draco, the hardness he felt setting him on fire.

Then Draco slipped a hand down to his trousers and he gripped Draco's arms as Draco undid his fly, gasping as Draco reached in and wrapped his hand around Harry, his grip firm and sure and oh, fuck.

For a moment it felt like they were suspended in time, Draco's hand cupping him, Draco's mouth and his own panting against each other.

Then Draco's hand went down and then up, his grip firm and sure, sending sparks racing through Harry, pulling a groan from deep inside him. Fuck, fuck, this was better than anything he'd felt in so long, this was a thousand times better than that dream he'd had so long ago about Draco doing exactly this, he was helpless before it and vaguely thought he should probably do something for Draco as well but he couldn't really focus enough to figure out how, as Draco's talented hand went up and down, no teasing, just strength and grace and fuck, so fucking hot--

He shuddered and, with superhuman effort, forced himself to place a hand over Draco's, stilling him, and made himself concentrate long enough to undo Draco's fly. Reached in and wrapped his own shaking hand around Draco, feeling Draco's entire body go taut and a strangled cry die in Draco's throat. Then Draco was pressing himself into Harry's hand urgently, and they were rutting against each other, muscles flexing, they were giving each other all they had, heaving breaths growing harsher, rhythm speeding up, and then--

Oh, God...

God, nothing was like this in the world. Not jerking off, not fantasies, not dirty dreams, nothing.

They were panting, come cooling on their stomachs, their chests heaving. Draco resting his head against the wall behind him, slowly loosening his grip, a hesitant hand rising up to cup Harry's cheek, and Harry leaned into it with a contented sigh.

This felt so different from other first times he'd had. Hot, yes, and exciting, but now it also felt tender and comforting and all right, maybe he was already falling pretty hard. He was starting to get the feeling he didn't stand a chance at the whole "take this slowly and see where it goes" thing.

"Fuck. That was..." he trailed off, and Draco chuckled weakly.

"That was brilliant," he said.

He covered Draco's hand with his own, and felt an incredible sort of... closeness? Warmth? No, that wasn't strong enough. Whatever it was couldn't be described, and it felt very odd. He hadn't even been thinking of Draco this way before yesterday morning, and yet it seemed like they'd been together much, much longer.

"That was bloody amazing," he said, and his voice sounded sleepy. Draco laughed quietly.

"Brilliant."

"Yeah."

Well, that had to be one of the most inane conversations he'd ever had. Not that post-sex was the most witty time in anybody's life, but...

He pulled back, his hand still covering Draco's. "D'you want to..." he glanced over at his bedroom door hesitantly.

"Anything," Draco breathed, nibbling his way up Harry's neck, and Harry moaned as a tingling began spreading through him again.

"God, I hadn't even asked..."

"Anything," Draco murmured again into the hollow behind his ear.

Harry closed his eyes, his mind happily skipping several steps ahead, to a time - hopefully very soon - when his body would be recovered enough to go again, and they'd be in his bed, and there would be less clothing - yes, far less clothing, that would be brilliant - and maybe there could be more skin and more of those talented fingers on him, pulling him off, getting sticky(er) together, and all sorts of wonderful possibilities...

...and did he still have Robin's lube, that honey-scented stuff--

Robin. Oh hell, there better not be any other embarrassing items in his bedroom. He mentally flicked through the various small joke gifts he and Robin had exchanged, and briefly wondered if Draco would like that too, and would it be all right to exchange gifts while Draco was still technically married, and if Draco could keep doing what he was doing with his mouth on Harry's throat, there might be a need for lube far earlier than he'd supposed...

Although something wasn't... quite... right.

He started to pull back - no, it was fine. They were going to go to Harry's bedroom, and that was fine; unlike Jessica, Robin was fully gone from Harry's life, it wasn't like they had ever even lived together, not like Draco and Jessica - argh!

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against Draco's for a moment, at a complete loss as to what to say. Draco touched his chin, bringing their mouths together again, the taste of his lips making Harry dizzy again and drawing a moan from him in response before he pulled back again.

"Wait."

Draco pulled back and stared at him for a moment, and Harry started to realize that putting on the brakes had been a really, really bad idea, because the lack of Draco's lips on his was allowing Harry to think more clearly, and that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Because thinking more clearly was absolutely no substitute for Draco's lips.

"What is it?" asked Draco. And now Harry had to explain himself. Nice going, Potter.

"Erm." He paused. "I'm, erm, not sure about this..."

"About... what?" Draco's brow furrowed.

"Erm... I mean..." Harry ran a hand through his hair, suddenly acutely conscious of just how disheveled they both were.

"Look," Draco said, a bit stiffly. "You... you know how I'm feeling here." He sounded a little irate, too, and Harry really couldn't blame him. "Are you having second thoughts now?"

"Yeah, no, it's not that, it's just--"

"If you don't want--"

"No, I, God, it's not that I don't want." He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Fuck, it's not that I don't want," he repeated, and something in his tone of voice seemed to lessen Draco's sudden wariness.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm certifiable," Harry muttered. "I want, so fucking badly it's--" he closed his mouth before he could say 'pathetic.'

Draco waited, puzzled, and Harry tried to put his thoughts in order.

"I know, you're getting a divorce. And... it's stupid, I know, I can't believe I'm saying this and I think I'll probably kick myself particularly hard if you agree with me, but see, I don't want this to go too fast. Not right now. I don't just want a quick fuck up against the wall - all right, obviously I do want exactly that, a lot, but I also want, erm." Full stop before his mouth declared complete sovereignty from his will and common sense. He took a deep breath. "And the problem is, you're married."

Draco stared at him. "So, is it that you... you don't want to do anything else 'til my divorce is official?" he asked slowly.

"It's stupid. Isn't it." Harry sighed. "You're right. No, it's ridiculous--"

"Erm." Draco blinked a few times. "It's... it's not ridiculous," he finally said, then laughed quietly. "Sorry, I haven't really thought of myself as married for - God, too pathetically long, but." He sighed. "But I am. And if it's important to you... well, the divorce spell appointment's in two weeks. I've, er," he gave Harry a half-smile. "I've waited a year... two weeks longer doesn't seem that long."

"Really?" Suddenly Harry felt like kissing him, but felt too awkward to do so - which was also a bit odd, considering they still hadn't even tucked themselves in yet - but it was all right, because Draco looked amused and a bit disappointed, but not angry or impatient.

"So." Draco took a deep breath and pushed off the wall, glanced at his watch, then did a small double-take. "Oh shit." He glanced back at Harry. "I hate to, erm, come and go, but--"

"You're on shift tomorrow," Harry suddenly remembered. "Bloody early shift too, aren't you?" He winced. "Damn, I forgot completely."

"So did I," Draco said sheepishly.

Harry smiled. Not that hard to forget, when you were enjoying yourself as enthusiastically as they had been, just moments ago. And he had little doubt that if they'd continued their recent activities, neither one would've remembered or cared about the lateness of the hour or the fact that Draco had to get up early tomorrow. But when all that faced them was the prospect of more talking... "Right. Sorry. We should go to bed. Erm, separately."

Draco chuckled as Harry pulled him close again, taking his lips in another kiss.

"I'm mental, I think," Harry murmured as they drew apart again, and Draco laughed. "Think we can coordinate being off on the same day, after your divorce goes through?"

"We can probably manage that."

Harry nodded. "Which does bring up something else. Work? I mean, it's up to you what people get told or not told; I'm not the one still doing an apprenticeship. Or still technically married."

Draco shrugged. "Don't care much," he said.

"Pepper and Gwen will be able to spot this a mile away."

"Probably."

"D'you mind?"

Draco thought for a moment. "No. Do you?"

"No." Harry grinned at him. "Good. I'm pants at keeping secrets these days."

Draco drew back, running his hand through his hair. Harry picked up his wand and murmured a cleaning spell over both of them, and tried not to stare as they tucked themselves in, zipping up.

"What is it?" Draco asked, and Harry looked up at him, a bit startled.

"What?"

"You're blushing," Draco said, his lips curving into a grin.

"Am I?" said Harry, suddenly realizing that his face was indeed feeling rather warm.

"Rather darkly," Draco said.

Harry chuckled sheepishly. "Right." He rubbed a hand over his hair. "Erm. Well. That was..." oh all right, after what they'd just done this wasn't such a big deal. "You know, what just happened? Was pretty close to a couple... thoughts I had. A long time ago." He cleared his throat. "You know when I told you I had a bit of a crush on you in fifth year?"

"Yeah?"

"That was one of the things I thought about. You and me, and, erm, this." He made a vague gesture that, on second thought, was a bit more graphic than strictly necessary. "In an alcove, at school."

Draco's eyebrows went up. "You're joking."

"Must say this was about a thousand times better. What with not, you know, hating you with every fiber of my being and all."

Draco laughed again. "Yeah, that would've put a bit of a damper on things."

"And what with feeling like a complete perv for fantasizing about somebody I hated."

"Try fantasizing about somebody you're working with all the time," said Draco wryly. "While married."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You didn't hate me, though."

"I thought you were straight!" Draco protested.

"Doesn't even come close--"

"And then you were my patient."

"-all right, maybe a little close."

"Although I did try very very hard not to have any fantasies about you," said Draco.

"Yeah? How'd that go?"

"Ah. Erm, not well."

"So... what did..." Harry trailed off as Draco gave him an amused smirk.

"D'you want to hear them right now?"

Harry's pulse sped up a bit. "Would that be a not very bright idea?"

"Probably," Draco said seriously. "They mostly involved showers and--"

"Right, yeah, stop there," Harry said hastily, and Draco laughed at him. "See you tomorrow, then," Harry said at the door, and they shared one more scorching kiss.

"You're on too?"

"Yeah, at noon."

"Oh poor baby," Draco teased. "You'll have less than ten hours of sleep."

"Shut it," Harry said, grinning. Body still zinging with endorphins, he leaned against his doorjamb, his eyes a bit dazed in the bright sunlight.

"See you tomorrow," Draco said, and gave him a final smile before turning on the spot and Disapparating.

Harry leaned against his door for another moment, gazing at the sea stacks at the entrance to Kirstan's Hole, where they'd gone walking the day he'd shown Draco his place. The waves were lapping gently against the rocks, the breeze soft and refreshing.

He went back inside, picking up the biscuit tin and the cups of coffee, and cleaned up a bit. He felt incredibly restless, and it had nothing to do with the sun shining into his home at the ungodly hour of... whatever time it was.

What he wouldn't have given to have Ron here, to talk to, to hear him - once he'd got used to the idea - say something like, "Listen mate, you want him, why not just go for him?" Telling him what he wanted to hear, instead of Hermione's voice of his conscience, all well-meaning righteousness. Or Ginny's sly teasing.

He sighed. Sat at his desk, savouring their date, the dinner, the activities against the wall... even savouring the idea of being alone with Draco in two weeks' time, after two weeks of working together and anticipating when they could be together without his stupid conscience pricking at him. Idly he pulled a piece of parchment close, doodled on it absently.

Thought for a moment, then wrote

Dear Ginny:

He stopped, scratched it out.

Dear Hermione:

No, no no no. That would be even worse than Ginny.

Why, though? Wouldn't Ginny and Hermione want to know? And didn't he want to share this with somebody who might understand? Somebody who might be happy for him, all teasing and preaching aside?

Dear... all right, I've no idea which one of you this will get to first. Doesn't matter.

You are seriously never going to believe this. He paused, then grinned as he started to write.

ooo000ooo

Author's Note: Psst! Wanna see the view from Harry's window in Papa Stour?

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