A Certain Kind of Memory

Some prices are just too high,

no matter how much you may want the prize.

The one thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart.

ATTRIBUTION: Lois McMaster Bujold, "Memory", 1996,

US science fiction author.

Lunch with Hermione on a Tuesday was a semi-regular occurrence that Harry enjoyed thoroughly. Sometimes they ate at the Library, with Harry bringing food suitable to eat in, but recently they'd taken to heading to the local pub for lunch, which was where they were today. Harry had spent most of the previous day on his own, thinking about his plan. It was funny in a way, the more he thought about helping Draco out, the more he wanted the man in his life and in his bed and, if things had been different about his health, then he might seriously have considered going after him, anyway.

Hermione had always said he had a bit of an obsessive personality and now he seemed to be fixated on Draco. Again. So maybe he'd always just been obsessive about Draco? That was a possibility that not so much frightened him as made him laugh. It would certainly explain a few things.

Harry smiled at Hermione as she entered the pub, her brown hair tied back in the summer heat and her eyes flashing amusement when she saw him.

"Harry! Hello," she said as she kissed him on the cheek and sat down.

"Hermione, why do you look so amused?"

"I've just seen that prat Michael Corner trying, unsuccessfully I might add, to control his children. He's just ended up with Fortescue's ice cream all over his robes, which caused the little one to start screaming for more, and I thought, 'what goes around comes around'. Couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke," Hermione finished, laughing, and Harry joined in.

"Poetic justice. I gather Ron told you what happened at the scratch Quidditch match on Sunday, then?" He handed her the menu as he spoke.

"Yeah, he did. I'm glad no one was seriously hurt. Draco's all right?" She checked out the menu and chose a cold chicken salad.

Harry chose the same and handed the menus to the waiter before answering her question. "Yes, he's fine. He'd be better if he could find more work, though, but there's too many like Corner and his lot around that just won't see past the name."

"I'm trying to get the committee to agree to fund more days, but I'm not making much headway. They think that repairs and maintenance of the books we already have is more important than cataloguing the Malfoy collection. I can't blame them; we do have to protect the older books."

"I know. Don't blame yourself. Five years ago, you'd have hardly looked at him sideways yourself. You've - we've all grown up and come a long way since then. Most of us have. Some people never let go of the past."

Their meals arrived and Harry ordered two glasses of pumpkin juice to have while they ate.

"So, tell me how the wedding plans are coming along," Harry said, wanting to change the subject.

Hermione predictably brightened. "Wonderfully. Molly finally relented about doing all the cooking. I am so relieved. Not that Molly isn't a great cook, she is, but we had our heart set on spoiling her that day, too. It's about time and Ron and I earn enough to have the wedding catered for professionally and as we only plan on getting married once, we're going to splurge and put the purchase of the house off for six months or so."

"I wish she'd take it easy, too, but you know how she is. Like a steamroller; refuses to slow down. Sometimes I think if she slowed down her body would just stop." He'd meant it to be lighthearted but it hurt to think of Molly not being there. Just as it hurt to think of death at all these days.

"She's got Bill's kids to chase after, seeing that he's away with Gringott's often and Fleur went back to work," Hermione reminded him, breaking his mood.

"I suppose those two would be enough to keep anyone busy. Speaking of keeping busy, I've decided that I'm going to write that book on my life after all," Harry said, suddenly making the decision right there on the spot. Who said he could never be spontaneous?

"Oh, Harry," Hermione exclaimed, eyes shining brightly at him. "I'm so pleased. What made you change your mind?"

"You. You've been after me for years to do it, and I decided that you're right. When I go...eventually, I don't want someone anonymous writing about my life as if they knew me or understood my motivations. If I do it now, while I'm deciding what to do with my life, then that will be the definitive story. No one will be able to write anything different and expect to have it believed. I don't want people's memories of me to be a pack of half truths and exaggerated claims."

"I'm really proud of you, Harry." Hermione beamed, putting down her fork to pat his arm. "So, for inspiring you, will the Library get the first edition autographed copy?" she asked, giving him a playful smile.

"Of course," Harry replied, and filled his mouth with chicken and salad.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do with your life?"

"Not really. It's only been a few months since I quit being an Auror. You know I'd wanted to be one as far back as fifth year at school. I'd not really thought about doing anything else."

"Hm, Ron still can't quite believe you're not there anymore. We'll be talking about a case and he'll say, 'Oh, I must tell Harry about that,' before he remembers that you're not there," Hermione relayed, sadly.

"I know. I'm sorry but it was completely unfulfilling and pointless me even being there. All the Death Eaters were rounded up years ago, all the trials have been heard and everyone who was going to Azkaban has gone already, so...I just felt like a damned mascot or something that they dragged out for public display and comment every time one of the new recruits did something stupid."

"So hard being a celebrity," Hermione teased, though Harry knew that she understood how little he liked the limelight, despite using it to his advantage on numerous occasions when he had need of it.

"Hey, you don't like it either," Harry retorted. Hermione was receiving her fair share of publicity for her work with the Library, besides the fact that she was one of Harry's best friends and had played a vital part in helping to win the war.

"No, but I know how important it is to the work I'm doing," she pointed out. "And I'm prepared to use it and put up with the unfortunate side effects if in the long run the Library and the Wizarding World benefit from it."

"And Ron puts up with it too?" Harry laughed. The last time some anxious reporter had implied that Hermione used more than verbal persuasion in order to cajole money from sponsors or books from old families, Ron had charmed the man's quill to write retractions in every article since then until the paper's editor had grown so angry that the man had been banished to the sports page.

Hermione laughed. "I like that he stands up for me, even though I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself. It's nice that he loves me enough to do that. It's good having someone I can rely on like that all the time."

"Don't I do that, too?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry, but I don't want to sleep with you or spend my life with you. It's just different with a partner - he's like the other half of me. You should find someone for yourself," she finished and took a drink of her juice.

Here was the point where he could manipulate the situation for the bet. He took a deep breath and decided that he did want Draco in his bed and his life for the year and however he got him there wouldn't matter in the end, because he would be helping Draco make a future for himself. He would do his damnedest to make sure that Draco had only good memories of their time together for after he was gone, but that they stayed friends through it all. Guilt he would mark off in days for using Draco like he was, but he hoped that what he was doing would make it up to him...of course that was if Draco agreed to it in the first place.

"Well, you were the one who said I was hopeless at relationships," Harry said.

"You are." Hermione snorted. "You haven't ever had one that lasted past a week, right?"

"True." Harry nodded. "But you're wrong. I could have a relationship and make it work," he said challengingly.

"Work? What do you mean by work? A week, six weeks, three months? What? That's not making it work."

"A year, then," Harry replied. "I could do a year at least. I think I'm ready for something long term."

Hermione gave him a piercing, thoughtful stare. "I don't believe you could. I'm talking a proper live-in relationship here, not just dating, you do realise that?"

"Yes," Harry insisted. "That's what I mean, too. I could live with someone in a romantic relationship for a year."

"Prove it," Hermione said, finishing her drink.

"I will," Harry said, defiant. "And if I do, you have to admit you were wrong. Publicly. And I know how much you'll hate that." Harry grinned, pushing the last of his salad around the plate. "Hermione Granger is never wrong, is she?"

"And what will I get if I'm right?" Hermione asked. "Because I don't like making bets, Harry."

Harry pretended to think for a moment and then smiled. "Dumbledore's books. You've wanted them ever since he left them to me, you can't deny that."

But Hermione looked concerned. "Oh, no, but Harry I couldn't take those," she protested. "This is just a silly little bet and those are worth...well they're priceless artefacts, no, I couldn't possibly..."

Harry interrupted her. "Yes, you can, Hermione. They'll get better treatment with you than they will with me," he pointed out reasonably. "And they'll be willed to the Library when I go anyway. This way you'd get the credit for securing them."

"Well..." Hermione seemed doubtful but Harry could see the light in her eyes. She smiled. "You do realise that I might have to try and break up this relationship that you will be having with whoever it is."

"Oh, no, if you try and break us up, the deal is off," Harry said, laughing.

"All right." She laughed, too. "But you can't wait forever to find someone." She pointed her fork at him. "There has to be a time limit, say three months? You reckon you can find someone in three months?"

"Easy," Harry replied.

Step one completed, Harry spared little time examining his motivations. He'd done that and made his decisions already, and any further deliberation would be useless. When he arrived home after lunch, he headed straight for the Floo.

"Ministry Research. Longbottom's office," he called into the Floo and put his head in, waiting for it to be connected. Neville was rising from his desk by the time Harry saw him.

"Harry, how are you? What can I do for you?"

"Good thanks, Neville. I won't hold you up, but I have a couple of questions for you, if that's all right?"

"Sure, Harry. Ask away." Neville smiled, a look of mild surprise on his face.

"How close are you to the release of your ulcer prevention potion?" Harry asked.

Neville blinked in surprise. "A couple of weeks, why?"

"Do you have anyone to produce it, yet?"

"We've looked at Stoker. She's the only one with the skills we'd require in addition to access to the right facilities to produce it on a regular basis in the quantities we'd need. Why?"

"Have you thought about Draco?"

Neville nodded, spreading his arms. "Harry, if Draco was set up officially we'd snap him up in a second. But he just doesn't meet the strict Ministry regulations required for the public production of a new potion."

"But if he was?"

"Then he would certainly get our business. I know the Ministry has frowned upon using ex-death Eaters in the past." Neville held up his hands. "Don't tell me that he wasn't a Death Eater, I know he wasn't, but his father did so much damage that his name is still blackened. However, I know he is the best potions maker in England and I'd insist on the best."

"Thanks, Nev," Harry said, smiling.

"Something you want to tell me, Harry?" Neville asked, giving Harry a calculating look.

Harry shook his head. "No, nothing I can say anything about now, but don't be surprised if I call you again soon and hold you to your word."

"Be about time something good happened to him. I've offered to help him out before and he's always declined the offer. I'll be glad to help out in any way I can but, honestly, if he's set up for this he'll be the one doing me a favour. Stoker's success rate isn't as high as Draco's."

'That's great. Thanks. I'll contact you again, soon as I know anything."

"You're a good friend to have, Harry Potter," Neville said, smiling at him.

Harry smiled back, hoping that he was right. "Thanks, Nev. Say hi to Hannah for me. How's she doing? Getting too big to be comfortable now?"

"I will, and yes, she's complaining that she can't remember what her ankles look like." Neville laughed. "She only has four weeks to go, though. And then there's the number of times I have to help her stand up just so she can--" He stopped. "Too much information, I reckon." He laughed again and blushed.

Harry laughed back. "Well, tell her that I am looking forward to seeing that baby she's carrying."

"I will."

"Thanks again, Nev. Talk to you soon."

"You're welcome, Harry."

Harry removed his head from the fireplace and sat back on his couch with a satisfied smile. Should Draco not be interested in the arrangement he was offering, then he'd still go ahead and do this anyway. Draco was one of his friends and he really did want to help him, regardless of anything else - bet with Hermione be damned. It felt good to be able to do these things for his friends.

He rose and moved to his desk to write an owl to Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts. While he was there, he thought to write to an Estate Agent and ask them to line up some places that might be suitable for both a shop front and a Potions lab for him to look at on Thursday. Lastly, he wrote to Draco and invited him for dinner tomorrow night. Hopefully, he would be free.

An hour later he had a return owl from Draco accepting his offer of dinner, with the codicil question - Did you just ask me on a date, Potter? - which made Harry laugh at the irony.

He replied - Why? Did you want me to? - not entirely sure that he wanted to know the answer. If he'd said no... Luckily the answer, when it arrived, was suitably cryptic - There's never been anything wrong with asking.

Madam Pomfrey replied a few hours later, just as Harry was dishing out his dinner. She was only too happy to use Draco in whatever professional capacity he might be offering. She was getting on in years and her own potion making was reduced to the simpler ones. The school's Potions master was terrific with teaching the children and was adequate for curriculum potions but with anything medicinal and complicated he was fairly useless. She'd been purchasing potions from St. Mungo's for years and she knew that Draco would produce much higher quality potions and thanked Harry for suggesting it.

Harry sat at the table and ate his dinner in the quiet; hating that it felt so lonely, especially when he had such great news he'd like to be able to share with someone. Still, there was an element of satisfaction at having done a good day's work.

There were other things he planned to do for his friends in this year. Things that he wanted nothing in return for; only to see them happy and taken care of. They were his family, and you took care of family, didn't you?

Only from one person was Harry asking something in return and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being selfish. Ignoring his conscience - or pushing it aside at any rate - he pledged that should Draco want nothing to do with him on a romantic level then he would not feel bitter about it. In no way would he bear a grudge over it and he would still do this for Draco, he would make him accept the gift, even if he resented Harry afterwards, because he knew that Draco deserved this chance. He was just hoping that Draco thought the same.

Wednesday was spent making sure the flat was clean and preparing a nice meal for the evening. Harry had decided on a simple steak, jacket potatoes and a fresh salad. He might not be able to cook worth a damn, but he could grill a steak with the best of them. With a nice light wine to accompany it, it would be the perfect summer meal. In fact, he was so intent on preparing the salad that he forgot the time and when he heard the knock on the door, he jumped in surprise, startled into splashing the dressing all over his shirt.

Cursing his inability to be able to keep track of time and his consequent clumsiness, he pulled his shirt off over his head as he headed for the door. Of course, when he opened it he found Draco standing there looking fucking gorgeous in faded blue jeans and a simple white shirt. How the hell he always managed to do that astounded Harry.

"Come in." Harry smiled, all of a sudden flustered at being caught out shirtless. It seemed half dressed was the way he was answering the door to Draco these days.

And naturally Draco stood there, arms folded, smirking at him. "I'm not even inside the door and already you're expecting me to put out?" he drawled, and Harry was very conscious of the way Draco's eyes traveled over his chest. "Or are you going to let me watch you shower this time?" he added, cheekily.

Harry narrowed his eyes, blushing, because if things went according to plan, then there was a good chance he would be doing just that. But, apparently Harry felt the need to reciprocate, so as not to be outdone of course.

Of course.

"Come in here looking like that and I might let you do whatever you want," he said, tempering the flirting by grinning and rolling the shirt up into a ball. He stepped aside and ushered Draco in.

"Promises, promises," Draco pouted and walked in.

"Make yourself at home, I'll just get a clean shirt."

Clean shirt on, he headed back to the lounge room to find Draco had grabbed a couple of beers and was waiting for him.

"How've you been?" Harry asked, grabbing the beer and flopping down in an armchair.

Draco shrugged and looked at his beer, affecting a casual, disinterested attitude. "Same as usual," he said. It seemed obvious that Draco didn't want to talk about how he was, and now he looked closer he could see the worry lines around Draco's eyes. Not that he'd ever mention worry lines to Draco; he liked his bits where they were, thanks very much, and not splattered into next week.

"I spoke to Blaise last night," Draco said, changing the subject, smiling at Harry. "He mentioned that the Harpies are playing a charity game against the Canons to raise money for St. Mungo's. Wanted to know if I wanted to go."

"I know. They sent me a couple of tickets, too. It's in about a month isn't it? We should all go. Have some fun and make a night of it," Harry said.

Draco nodded, thoughtfully. "The Longbottoms might be otherwise occupied but apart from that, it's good idea."

Harry drank some of his beer. "We'll let Blaise organise us all," he grinned. "Makes him feel useful."

Laughing, Draco downed his beer, too. "Speaking of making oneself useful, do you need any help with dinner? I assume you met with some culinary disaster that would account for answering the door half naked," he said, raising his eyebrow.

"Dinner," Harry replied, "is coming along just fine without your assistance. I just need to cook the steaks and finish tossing the salad and we're set to go."

Harry stood and walked through to the kitchen. "You can make yourself useful by opening the wine if you like," he called out over his shoulder.

Draco voiced his assent and Harry threw the steaks onto the grill he'd had heating up. While they sizzled he watched Draco opening the wine and decided that he quite liked Draco's slender, fine wrists. Blinking and snapping himself out of it, he finished tossing the salad, removed the potatoes from the oven, and set the table. While Draco hunted for the wine glasses, Harry turned the steaks and after a couple of minutes more, placed them on plates and moved to join Draco.

Wine glasses filled and a delicious looking dinner in front of them, they raised their glasses.

"To a decent meal and decent company," Draco said, smiling.

Harry inclined his head in agreement. "A decent meal and even more decent company." He attempted to keep the nerves from his voice because the scene of them sitting together at his table in his flat was kind of like a predicator of what he'd like to happen night after night, and he still wasn't certain of just how he was to approach the subject with Draco and how he would take it.

Sometimes his 'by the seat of his pants' attitude worked and sometimes it just left him tense and anxious.

They discussed inconsequential things while they ate; Draco complimenting him on his ability to cook a steak properly and Harry loading up Draco's plate with salad before his own. It was comfortable and relaxed, though Harry teased Draco mercilessly for picking out every single piece of cucumber in the tossed salad. Draco said the mere taste of cucumber made his mouth go dry and he'd rather not waste such a good meal by losing the ability to enjoy it properly. Draco got his revenge though when he called Harry an uncouth troll for using tomato sauce on his steak.

The meal filled Harry with peace, contentment and laughter, which he thought peculiar considering the task he'd set himself tonight. Also considering the question of his mortality. Harry sat with his glass of wine raised to his lips, yet not drinking, just considering Draco across the table, who was regaling him with a tale about how one of Pansy's three year old charges managed to open every single can of paint in the art room store cupboard and spread it round the room in a rainbow of colours without anyone even noticing she was gone. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so good and he didn't want the evening to end.

Eventually, the meal part of the evening came to an end, though, and Draco took their drinks through to the lounge room while Harry spooned scoops of creamy strawberry ice cream into bowls and decorated them with fresh strawberries. When he handed Draco his dessert and sat down in the armchair opposite him, he knew that when they'd finished he wouldn't be able to put it off any longer.

"Draco," he began as he placed his empty dish on the coffee table a few minutes later. "I didn't mean to, but I overheard your talk with Blaise and Ginny the other night at the pub."

Draco frowned and gave Harry a stare. "And?"

"What happened?"

"Well, it's not really a secret or anything, but the last batch of a potion I made for the Apothecary was ruined because I forgot to tell the assistant to refrigerate it. You'd think that he'd know by now but apparently you have to tell these people something each and every time or else they don't remember and they ruin potions that are someone's livelihood and--" He stopped and looked at Harry, the worry clearly visible, now. He sighed and closed his eyes as if ashamed to admit things weren't all right. "They found another supplier," he said, quietly.

"What will you do now, then?" Harry asked.

Draco sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. "I have no idea. I did try and contact a few people about some work but unless the Ministry certifies my Potions lab they won't even look at buying my potions. And the Ministry won't classify or certify my kitchen, so I guess I am out of luck." He dropped his empty bowl on the table beside Harry's and hung his head in both hands. "I'm sorry, Harry, you didn't ask me here to hear me whining about my hard luck story."

"I did, actually," Harry replied, watching Draco carefully.

Predictably, Draco looked up, confused.

"I have a solution," Harry said. "But you have to hear me out fully before you say anything. Or yell at me."

Draco looked even more confused if that were possible. And doubtful. "All right," he said.

"I have a proposition for you. We're friends aren't we? We've come along way since school and the war and we spend time together and enjoy each other's company, right?"

"Yes, much as I am loath to admit it, I do enjoy your company, Potter, but where is this going?"

Harry leaned forward in his seat. "Well, you see the thing is...I've spoken to Neville and they're going to be ready for production of their new potion in a couple of weeks and he wants to give you the contract. It would be a very lucrative one and could set you up."

"I'd love the chance to do something like that and flattered that they'd want me, but that doesn't solve anything seeing as I don't have a lab."

"I've also spoken to Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts. She's getting on in years and the school's Potions master is rubbish at complicated healing potions and she wants you to be the exclusive potions supplier to the school." Harry was beginning with the indications of work available because he thought it better to start with what the possibilities were before heading to what they would cost.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "So, you've been telling my sob story to both Longbottom and Pomfrey?"

"No, no, I said nothing about your personal circumstances, though Neville knows a bit anyway, seeing as he's your friend, too. I only asked Pomfrey about the possibility of you supplying the complicated potions; she asked if you'd be interested in the rest. And Neville told me you would have been his first choice. Your talent did that on its own."

Draco breathed a sigh of what looked like relief, but he still looked like he'd been offered the world and had it ripped out from under him. "That still doesn't indicate what you think the solution is. I have no lab, Harry."

"I'd like to set you up in a lab. I've actually organised for us to go and have a look tomorrow at a few places to see if they're suitable." He had to rush the last few words, because Draco shot up out of his chair and was pacing the lounge.

"No, Harry, I can't let you do that. I won't be a charity case, I won't have people pitying me and feeling sorry for me." He shook his head. "Or laugh at my misfortune and sneer because I've needed help from friends. I can't do it, I have some pride."

Harry knew all about pride. It was perhaps the biggest thing preventing him from telling all his friends about his illness. Pride - not wanting his friends to see him as anything less than he was now.

"You won't be a charity case, you'd actually be helping me out," Harry pressed on, blushing. "Because there's something I want you to do for me in return."

"What could I possibly do for you that would warrant a gift of such magnitude, Harry?" Draco was shaking his head, but with a desolate look in his eyes, as if everything he'd ever wanted was in Harry's hands and yet it was just out of his reach.

"This is where the being friends part comes in. And I want your promise that if you say no to this then we'll still be friends - actually, even if you say yes, then we'll be friends first." Harry's heart was beating fast in his chest. He really wanted this. For both sides. Of course, even if Draco said no, he'd give him the shop somehow, but he hoped he'd say yes.

"I think after all we've been through to get to this stage, neither of us would willingly give it up, Harry," Draco looked at him, doubtfully. "What are you saying?"

"I want your help to win a bet with Hermione, actually. If I win, she has to publicly apologise to me and admit she was wrong." A small grin curled the corners of Harry's mouth, because you could count on one hand the number of times Hermione had ever admitted she was wrong and there were even less times when she'd made a public apology. Not even when a new assistant set fire to a first edition Monsters and Madness two years ago that had belonged to the Minister for Magic and the press had been howling for an apology.

"And what if you lose?"

"She wins my collection of Dumbledore's books now instead of when I die. But to keep you from sabotaging my bet, I am going to give them to her anyway once the bet is over. I think she'll take better care of them than I do at the moment."

"And what is this bet and what is my part in it?" Draco asked, interested now, perhaps a little more hopeful. Maybe thinking that someone else was also going to benefit from this made it seem less like taking charity for Draco - hmmm, he'd not thought of that angle. His chances were looking up it seemed, and so it was with a little more confidence that he answered.

"The bet is that I can't have a relationship for at least a year. So, I'm asking you to move in and be my...boyfriend, partner, lover, whatever, for a year."

Draco's eyes went wide and he drew in a deep breath. Harry continued. "I mean most people sort of expect it anyway, we've even talked about it ourselves. I think you're gorgeous and I know you don't think I look like a troll, so--"

He stopped there because Draco was pacing again and he waited for some reaction. Draco was tight-lipped and his eyes were dark. "You want to pay me to fuck me for a year, is that it?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. "No...it's not like that. I mean I would like to f... I want us to have a normal relationship, like a normal couple do. We've talked about this and in the past basically we'd said no because people expected us to get together and we didn't want to risk our friendship. I thought... Is it that awful to think of being in a relationship with me?"

"Fuck... No, Harry, it's not, but...it feels like you're handing me everything I could possibly want on a platter, the only thing is, I have to sell my body to get it."

"We can take that part slowly, if you like," Harry said. "I chose you because we are good friends and we'd not likely fall in love with each other, but we're obviously attracted to each other. At the end of a year, I'll hand you the deeds to the shop and it will be all yours and you'd be free to go. Friends first, remember?"

"And what happens if it doesn't last a year?" Draco said, his grey eyes anxious.

"We'll work something out, I promise."

Draco sat down and rested his head in his hands. Harry didn't interrupt his thinking, simply sat and watched him. After a long while, Draco looked up and smirked lightly. "You really want in my pants that badly, Potter?"

"I really want to see Hermione admit she was wrong that badly," Harry replied, attempting a smile, which, considering the atmosphere, wasn't too bad an attempt, actually. "Getting you into my bed is an added benefit, though, a really enticing benefit. And, I also really do want to help you out, Draco."

Draco looked down again with a sigh.

"Can I ask what you're thinking?" Harry asked tentatively after a few minutes.

Draco sat back, looked at Harry for a few moments and then looked away.

"Do you want to know why I've worked so hard to make it on my own?" he said. Harry nodded, though as Draco was looking up at a picture of the beach on the wall, he doubted Draco realised it. "Because it was me," he continued. "If I found friends, then it was because they liked me. Not my father's money or my name, but me." He looked hard at Harry now. "We've talked before about how our pasts defined how people saw us. Having to start again from nothing meant that whatever I made of myself it was despite my name and circumstances. I really like the person I've become, and despite the fact that my father would quite possibly have a heart attack and die were he to know, I love the friends I've made. If I were to accept your offer, it would be risking everything. Your friendship for one. You and Blaise and Ginny and the others are my family now and I can't put that at risk. I just can't," he finished, and Harry could see the haunted look on his face, seeing how much he wanted, needed to take Harry's offer, but standing by his principles.

Harry's respect for the way Draco had finally grown up increased a hundredfold. He was just about to tell Draco that he respected his decision, when Draco groaned and flopped back in his chair. "If my ancestors could hear me now, they'd be rolling in their graves. Whoever heard of a Malfoy putting friends above business?" He gave a wry grin and stood up. "I think I should be going now, Harry."

"You sure? I mean...about everything?"

Draco nodded. "I really value our friendship too much to put that sort of strain on it. Likely we'd be fine and come through it closer friends than now, but what if we don't? That sort of risk is just too much and nothing's changed since the last time we spoke about being more than friends."

Harry nodded, saddened, but respectful. He really had half expected this to happen in any case. "What will you do about work, then?" Harry asked, worried about what Draco was going to do.

"I don't know, Harry, I'll find something. I can always work in a shop." Draco smiled.

Harry held out his arms and hugged Draco close, whispering. "I wish things were different Draco, I worry about you. I wish you'd accept the shop anyway."

"Well, you know I won't," Draco replied, hanging on to Harry tightly for a few more moments before pulling away, hands resting on Harry's upper arms. "I do appreciate the offer, Harry, and to tell you the truth, if I didn't like you so much, I'd probably take you up on it."

Harry smiled. "Damn, then maybe I should be horrible to you," he joked. "I'll find someone else to help me with this bet for Hermione. Though it hardly seems worth it if I'm going to give her the books anyway." Harry sighed. "You were the only one I thought this would work with," he admitted.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Draco said. He leant in and kissed Harry very gently on the lips. "Friends, remember?" He looked almost worried as if all of a sudden things between them would change now that he'd knocked Harry back.

Harry rushed to reassure him. "Of course. Always," he smiled. "I'll be seeing you at Neville's party at the weekend?" he asked, stepping back and out of Draco's embrace, missing the contact as soon as it was gone.

Draco nodded. "Looking forward to it. Hogwarts seems a fitting place for Longbottom to have his function. That's if Hannah doesn't go into early labour. Then we might all be celebrating his birthday in the hospital."

"Don't say that! You'll make it happen." Harry whacked him playfully on the arm.

"Bully," Draco grouched and rubbed his arm. "You'd make a rotten boyfriend, abusing me like that." He pouted, but there was a gleam in his eye that said he was teasing. It was good to see that they could laugh about it. It meant that their friendship was solid and was not going to be affected by all this. "Anyway, Harry, thank you for dinner and...everything," Draco went on.

Right, Harry thought, here is where it becomes awkward. He just shook his head and pulled Draco back into a hug, a sudden wave of emotion hitting him and making his throat hurt. "It's fine," he said, quietly. "Don't think about it, and take care, all right?"

"I always do, Harry," Draco drawled, moving out of the hug and heading to the door.

As he opened it, he turned back to look at Harry for a moment and opened his mouth as if to say something, but changed his mind and instead just gave Harry a small wave. Then he turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

Harry sank to the couch and hung his head in his hands, fighting the rising tears. It was ridiculous. He'd promised himself no regrets, no resentment over this. Well, fine, Draco didn't want to be anything more than friends. And it didn't hurt, not really. It was fine. Really.

No, it was not fine and he was going to take a minute, just a minute, to mourn that before he moved on.

After a minute he sighed and wiped his eyes. Okay, so he didn't get what he wanted, but he would still go to the agent's tomorrow to see the shops. He would choose one, then tell Draco he could have it rent free for six months while he set himself up and make him take a loan for set up supplies. That gave him the chance to become established; get those contracts his own skills had earned him and give him a steady income. And he would send those books to Hermione tomorrow. He really had no desire to start from scratch with someone new; someone he didn't know and would have to spend months getting to know and who might turn out to be a jerk, so he would forfeit the bet. He'd have to accept that romantically things were not going to happen for him. He had his friends and that would be enough. It would be.

It was cold comfort as he slipped into bed that night, alone. Again.