Second Chances

Draco stood near the bar in the Hog's Head pub, waiting impatiently for Harry to show up. Technically, Harry wasn't due to arrive for another quarter of an hour. Draco had never been known for his patience, however, and memories dredged up by the sight of some of the other patrons were putting him on edge.

When a familiar ebony-framed face appeared in the room, Draco made his way quickly across the crowded pub. Taking Harry by the elbow, he steered him out the door and into the alleyway.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, concerned by the tenseness in Draco's face and the slightly rough grip on his arm.

Draco forced himself to breathe slowly and steadily. "Remind me that I don't ever want to step foot in that establishment again, would you?" he said calmly. He relaxed his grip on Harry's arm. "Have you ever Apparated with another person guiding you?" he asked, completely changing the subject.

"Not since..." Harry closed his eyes tightly, fighting the vertigo that sometimes overtook him when thoughts of the war crowded his mind. "Let's just say it's been awhile," he said softly

Drawing his wand, Draco slid his free hand lightly up Harry's arm to rest on his shoulder. Harry pulled out his own wand and reached up to catch hold of Draco's arm. The world shuddered around them, and in the next instant, they were standing in a quiet street that was completely unfamiliar to Harry.

Glancing around himself as he tried to regain his balance, Harry's thoughts were drawn away from painful memories of the war. He and Draco were standing on one side of a cobblestone road lined with buildings of various shapes and sizes. Wherever they were, it reminded Harry very much of Diagon Alley.

Smirking at Harry's thunderstruck expression, Draco gently extricated himself from their uncomfortable embrace. "Come along," he commanded.

Shaking himself from his ogling of the city street, Harry followed Draco across the cobblestones to a quaint, squat little building. Warm candlelight poured from the building's windows, and the air around it was filled with the soft music of a violin. Draco opened the building's simple wood door and the two stepped inside together.

Harry found himself in a dimly lit restaurant. Candlelight reflected off the highly polished wood surfaces of the tables and the walls, the violin music floated softly through the room, and immaculately dressed men and women hurried here and there, serving food and wine to other immaculately dressed men and women.

A smiling auburn-haired girl stepped up to meet them just inside the door. "Mister Malfoy, so good to see you again. Right this way," she said, and led them to a booth in one corner that would afford them a good bit of privacy.

The girl presented the men with ornate menus and disappeared back into the kitchens. Harry looked over the menu, his brows drawing together in frustration. The menu had no prices and was written in some language that he couldn't read. Harry, drawing on his limited knowledge of such things, thought perhaps it might be Italian, but he couldn't be sure.

Draco smirked slightly as Harry's discomfiture, causing the dark brows to draw even further down. Feeling decidedly stupid and uncultured, Harry lay the menu aside and sat back in his seat, fighting the urge to fidget.

The young woman returned to the table, and Draco spoke to her in a mixture of English and some foreign language which Harry assumed was the same language that was on the menu. He felt a little more certain that it was Italian, which helped his predicament not at all. The girl hurried away again, but a moment later, she was back with a bottle of red wine and two silver goblets.

"Relax, Harry," Draco said gently as the girl filled their glasses. He smiled at the redhead, who blushed and returned the smile, obviously trying not to giggle. When she was gone again, Draco turned his full attention to Harry, really taking in the other man's appearance for the first time.

Harry looked quite different, dressed as he was in simple but elegant navy blue dress robes, his normally unruly hair neatly trimmed and perfectly tamed. Draco found he actually preferred the 'just stumbled out of bed' hairstyle Harry normally favoured. His hands itched to tousle the jet locks, bringing up images Draco was forced to quell.

"You're uncomfortable, Harry. Why?" Draco asked, desperate to make conversation of any sort in an attempt to drive away the unwanted - and inappropriate - thoughts that were threatening to overtake his mind.

"This isn't exactly what I'm used to," Harry replied, waving his hand vaguely to indicate the establishment.

"I know. That's why I chose this place. Everyone needs to broaden his horizons," Draco returned smoothly.

"I can't even speak the language," Harry snapped. He felt that Draco was chiding him as if he was a naughty child, and he didn't like it at all. Truthfully, he didn't want his horizons broadened; he liked things orderly and familiar. He'd had enough of chaos and new experiences during the war.

Draco smirked at him, and Harry felt a fleeting urge to slap the smug look off the man's face. Or perhaps kiss it away. Anything to erase that damnable smirk that reminded Harry far too vividly of the boy he had hated back at school.

"Have you forgotten how to cast a simple translation charm, Potter?"

Harry flushed, feeling even more stupid than he had previously. Angry with himself for being so thick, and angry with Draco for being so mean-spirited, Harry jumped to his feet, intending to walk away, possibly to go and lock himself in his room and spend the rest of the night sulking.

A soft touch to his hand stilled him.

"I wasn't trying to be a bastard," Draco said. "It just comes naturally."

Harry took a deep breath and willed himself to be calm. He knew Draco was trying to apologise, in his own strange way. Without another word, Harry returned to his seat, refusing to meet Draco's eyes.

Across the table, Draco sighed and took a sip of his wine. "I guess this wasn't such a brilliant idea," he said softly. "I didn't intend to make you uncomfortable. I wanted to take you some place....unique. If it makes you feel any better, we're just around the corner from Diagon Alley."

Harry looked up at Draco, his brows furrowed in puzzlement.

"I only discovered this place after I moved back to England. We - the children and I - came here the night before Sera started to school. We were all rather taken with the place, and it's becoming something of a tradition to come here for special occasions," Draco explained.

For a moment, Harry sat thinking, sipping at his wine. He wondered if Draco considered this date a special occasion, or if coming to this particular restaurant had merely become habit. Not caring whether it was just wishful thinking, he decided that the former must be the case.

The wine, Harry thought as he took another sip, was quite good, being neither too dry nor too sweet. If nothing else, Draco Malfoy had exceptional taste.

A moment later, Harry tossed his menu down on top of Draco's.

"My translating charms were never very reliable," he lied. "I'll just have to trust your judgment."

Draco looked up at Harry with an unreadable expression. The two sat in uneasy silence until the young woman returned and Draco placed their orders. Harry couldn't help wondering what exactly he would be eating, but he didn't ask. Instead, he asked about the restaurant itself.

"Is this a wizarding establishment?" he asked, glancing around at the other patrons in their expensive dress robes.

"Yes, of course," Draco replied.

"The servers...they're..."

"Squibs," Draco replied. "Or those unfortunates who don't possess enough magical ability to become fully trained and licensed."

Harry nodded and took another sip of wine.

"Oh," Draco said suddenly, his face lighting up. "I talked with Doctor Ponsford on Monday. She feels that Adrian has made a great deal of progress. He's only to visit her a few times over the summer holidays, rather than every week."

"That's good," Harry replied, beaming. "I'm glad he's doing so well."

"Harry... I don't mean to pry. All right, I'm lying; I do mean to pry. Why after all this time are you still seeing her on a weekly basis?"

"That's rather personal," Harry said lightly, settling back into his seat. He enjoyed the look that crossed Draco's face as the man struggled between his curiosity and his sense of propriety. "Actually, the answer is quite simple: I don't see her on a weekly basis - at least not most of the time. My visits are closer together when I'm under a great deal of stress and farther apart other times. Unless something cataclysmic happens, I doubt I'll see her all summer."

Draco nodded slightly, but made no further comment. He took a sip of his wine, and considered where to take the conversation. "How did you come to be teaching at Hogwarts?" he asked at last. "The last I'd heard, you were working as an Auror."

A pained expression crossed Harry's face, and Draco knew he'd put his foot in it again. "Minerva was kind enough to offer me the Defence position. She tried to convince me that I would be doing her a favour by taking the job, but..." Sitting back, Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Let's just say that I wanted a slightly less hazardous line of work."

"Dealing with teenagers on a daily basis isn't hazardous?" Draco teased.

Harry smiled wryly. "I never said that."

The two men lapsed back into silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Draco sat for a moment, sipping his wine thoughtfully.

"Quidditch," he said at last. "Quidditch is usually considered a safe topic of conversation." Draco seemed rather proud of this epiphany.

"Let's not talk about Quidditch," Harry said in a tightly-controlled tone. He took a rather large gulp of his wine, gripping his goblet hard enough to leave minute impressions in the soft silver.

"What have I done now?" Draco asked, looking weary.

"I've been grounded," Harry explained calmly. He took another drink of his wine and refused to meet Draco's eye.

"Grounded?" Draco asked indignantly and a bit too loudly, drawing unwanted attention from patrons at nearby tables. "By whom and for what reason?"

"By...everyone, I guess," Harry replied quietly, glancing around uncomfortably at the curious stares. "I've developed an unfortunate habit of falling off my broom."

Draco silently topped off his and Harry's goblets, more for something to do than because they truly needed refilling. He stared into the viscous red liquid before him for a long moment before speaking. "You were always one of the most gifted fliers I'd ever seen. I can't imagine your being confined to the ground."

Harry shrugged, scowling into his own goblet.

"Is this related to your quitting the Aurors?"

Another sizable drink from his glass, and Harry lifted his head. "It's all in my head, you see," he explained bitterly. "Not a spell. Not an injury. Just...trauma."

Draco slid his hand across to table and placed it cautiously on top of Harry's. The green eyes looking back at him seemed startled for a moment, but Harry didn't pull away. In fact, he seemed to take courage from the simple gesture and continued with his story.

"I can't fly because of vertigo. I get these incapacitating dizzy spells from time to time, and I never know when one's going to hit me. As for the Aurors, I had to quit because I...because I lost my nerve. I tend to freeze up in dangerous situations, now. Nearly got Tonks killed...that was my cue to bow out gracefully."

The two men were silent for a moment, and Draco was a little surprised to find his thumb gently stroking the back of Harry's hand. He slowly moved his hand away to wrap it around the goblet of wine in front of him.

"For what it's worth, Harry, I'm sorry."

"So am I," Harry replied quietly. Draco hardly had time to wonder what the guilt in Harry's eyes might mean before the red-haired girl returned with their meal.

The two men tucked into their dinner, grateful for a good excuse to cease talking for a bit. Harry tried not to watch the graceful way Draco spun the long strands of pasta around his fork and tucked them tidily into his mouth. He felt awkward and clumsy beside the other man's unconscious poise. And the nearly orgasmic expression on Draco's face as he savoured his meal was making Harry feel hot and uncomfortable.

Without looking up, Harry fumbled for his goblet and took a drink of his wine. The chill liquid momentarily cooled him.

Across the table, Draco carefully lay his fork down. Glancing up, Harry was surprised to see the other man looking pained and perhaps a little fearful.

"This isn't going well, is it?" Draco asked quietly.

Harry lay his own fork aside and took another sip of wine. "Actually, all things considered, I'd have to say it is going rather well," he answered honestly.

Draco gave a little snort of disbelief.

"No, Draco, I mean it. The wine is excellent, the food exceptional...."

"And I'm such a bloody brilliant conversationalist," Draco added bitterly.

"With all we've seen, and considering all that lies between us, we'd have to be blind and stupid to expect to be able to carry on a so-called normal conversation," Harry replied.

"Not that I would really know what constitutes a normal conversation," Draco admitted quietly. "It's been ages since I've engaged in more than just small talk with any adults other than my parents. And my parents spend most of their time criticising me, dodging my questions, or steering our conversations 'round to nice, safe topics," he added sourly. "I mean, I still don't know how Father..." Draco trailed off, watching Harry gulp more wine as his face turned pale.

"All right," Draco said levelly. "We'll leave off talking about my Father, as well."

"Sorry," Harry apologised.

"Don't be," Draco replied, taking a long draught from his goblet. "I didn't really want to talk about him anyway."

Draco lifted the wine bottle, refilled his own goblet, and then moved to refill Harry's as well. Harry shook his head.

"Any more and I'll splinch myself trying to Apparate home," he explained.

"Don't be silly," Draco responded. "You've not had that much to drink. Besides, you can always Floo home."

"Yes, I'm certain Remus would really love for me to be sick in his fireplace," Harry replied with a smirk. He lifted his now full goblet to his lips, despite his earlier protests.

Draco chuckled and turned his attention back to his meal.

Harry steered the conversation around to Draco's travels, and the other man was off and running, spinning tales for Harry of the places he had visited. For someone who had never travelled, Harry seemed to know quite a lot about some of the places Draco had gone; he admitted that he had learned most of it from Hermione's letters. Soon they were deep in discussion about the various places Draco had seen, and the places that Hermione had visited that Draco had not. So engrossed was Harry with the conversation that he hardly noticed when the red-haired girl brought a second bottle of wine, and then a third.

By the time that Draco passed the girl some coins to pay for the meal, Harry was feeling incredibly warm and light. He was also having a bit of trouble focusing properly, and he couldn't help wondering how he had managed to get into such a state. Only when Harry rose so they could leave, staggering slightly as he stood, did Draco realise how much the wine had affected the dark-haired man.

"Did Diana slip you a firewhisky when I wasn't looking, or do you really have the alcohol tolerance of a twelve-year-old girl?" Draco asked, obviously amused.

"That last bit," Harry admitted with a beatific smile.

"God help us," Draco muttered. "Can you make it to the door unaided?"

"Sure." That smile again - a smile that made Draco's insides churn and his knees threaten to buckle beneath him.

Harry proceeded to show Draco that he could - in fact - walk out under his own power. Outside, Draco took hold of Harry's arm to make certain he didn't stumble. Somehow, Harry managed not to trip over his own feet as they walked down the lane - perhaps because his attention was focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other and not at all on where he was going or what he might be walking into.

With a sigh, Draco guided him towards a weather-beaten building bearing a tattered sign proclaiming it the 'The Seven Stars Tavern'. Tugging the door open, he led Harry into a dimly lit but quite clean little pub.

Giving the old man behind the bar a slight nod, Draco pointed Harry towards the fireplace. Grabbing up a pinch of Floo powder and tossing it into the flames, Draco spoke in a clear, quiet voice. Harry didn't hear their intended destination. He had only just enough time to wonder if this were all some twisted plan for revenge concocted by Lucius Malfoy before Draco was dragging him into the Floo, crushing Harry tightly against his chest as they whirled and fell through the Network.

The two landed in Draco's fireplace, and - courtesy of Harry's intoxication and resulting lack of balance - tumbled onto the hearthrug. Draco was up in an instant, using a spell to cleanse their robes and the rug of soot. Harry remained where he was - on all fours, his head lowered, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Just as Harry began to worry that the dizzy spell had been triggered by more than just the alcohol, gentle hands were on him, helping him to his feet.

"All right, Harry?" Draco asked.

Harry responded by leaning against Draco, his head resting comfortably on Draco's shoulder. The blond tensed slightly, but then relaxed and brought his arms around the slightly smaller man. Harry slid a hand up to his face, tugged off his glasses, and shoved them into one pocket of his robes. With a little sigh, he moved closer to Draco, pressing his face into the soft, warm skin of Draco's pale throat.

Draco let his eyes fall shut. He was certain that nothing had ever felt as good as holding Harry this way. One hand drifted up to slide lazily through Harry's thick, black locks.

After a time, Harry moved slightly, his warm mouth ghosting over Draco's throat. He stretched up to nuzzle Draco's pale cheek with his own, and then his lips pressed against Draco's in a gentle but insistent kiss.

Startled, Draco pulled away. "Not like this," he said roughly. "I won't be responsible for your doing anything you'll regret. Try it again when you're sober," he added, turning away.

Harry grabbed at Draco's wrist, determined not to let the other man walk away. "Don't you think I wanted this before you went and got me drunk?" Harry snapped, vaguely realising that his words had come out wrong.

Draco's eyes narrowed in anger.

"'s not what I meant," Harry said ashamedly before Draco had a chance to retort. "I just meant...oh for fuck's sake, Malfoy! Use the sobri...sobria... oh fuck you know what I mean. That charm," he said, waving his hands uselessly.

Although he was still clearly angry, Draco also looked somewhat amused. "You want me to cast Sobrius on you?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"Just remember - you asked for it," Draco said with an evil smirk.

Pushing Harry down onto the couch, Draco brandished his wand, casting a charm that would return Harry to some semblance of sobriety. As soon as the charm was cast, Harry doubled over, clutching his head and stomach.

"Instant hangover," Draco said smugly. "Be careful what you wish for."

Harry made a pitiful whimpering noise, and Draco felt a little ashamed of himself for enjoying the other man's suffering, even for a moment. "Accio potion," he said, and an instant later, a vial of thin blue liquid flew into his outstretched hand.

Settling onto the couch beside Harry, Draco popped the stopper out of the little vial. He held the open container in one hand and gently forced Harry's head up with the other.

"Drink it down," he said in that voice that all parents use when trying to coax medicine into their children. "It'll do away with your headache and it should help with the nausea as well," he explained.

Harry gratefully downed the potion, relieved when it began to work almost at once and the blinding pain slowly drained out of his head.

"Better?" Draco asked, gently stroking Harry's soft, inky hair.

Harry nodded slightly, colour rising in his cheeks as he looked up at Draco. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I...er...I should probably go."

"You don't have to," Draco replied, his voice soft.

"I...I should," Harry said uncertainly. He squinted a little, trying to read Draco's expression. Without his glasses on, he couldn't see far enough to discern what emotion might be flickering in the other man's eyes.

Taking hold of his legendary Gryffindor courage, Harry leaned forward, bridging the distance between Draco's lips and his own.

Draco stiffened slight and Harry was certain he had made a grave mistake. In the next instant, however, Draco's hands were tangled in his hair, his mouth open and hot and demanding under Harry's. Harry brought his own hands up to cradle Draco's face.

Some time later, they reluctantly broke the kiss. Neither would ever remember who had actually pulled away first. For a long moment, near silence reigned, their ragged breathing and pounding hearts the only sound.

Harry was the first to speak. "Maybe I shouldn't go after all," he said with a wicked little grin.

"You should," Draco replied, a bit too quickly. He practically jumped up from his seat. "I'll walk you home," he offered, crossing his arms across his chest, and then quickly forcing them back to his sides.

Harry just stared. "Right," he said a touch coolly as he drew his glasses out of his pocket. He glanced up, blinking as his eyes adjusted, to see Draco nervously twisting his hair around his fingers.

"Draco?"

The blond stopped fidgeting for a moment and turned his attention back to Harry.

"Did I do something wrong?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head slightly. "No, no. It's...it's been a long night, Harry. I think we both need time to think about things."

"I don't need time to think," Harry said in a near whisper as he rose to stand before Draco. "I've been thinking." He raised a hand to caress Draco's cheek. "I know what it is that I want," he murmured.

Swallowing convulsively, Draco took two steps backward and nearly tripped over his own feet. "Obviously, you misunderstood my meaning," Draco said harshly, his face contorting with anger. "Let me spell it out for you - I am not going to tumble into bed with you and spend the rest of my life regretting it. If you don't care enough or respect me enough to understand and accept that, then you aren't worth my time."

Harry knew that Draco was right, but hearing the words hurt. He channelled the sudden shame he felt into anger and used the anger as a shield. Afraid that anything he might say would only make matters far worse, Harry forced the most civil response he could think of: "I'll show myself out."

After Harry had gone, Draco sank down onto the couch, despairing. He knew that he had been right to refuse to give in to his baser instincts, but he wondered if being right was worthwhile if it meant losing Harry.