Lacuna

Lacuna

Chapter Six

*~*~*~*

When dinner was polished off and the drinks emptied, all three men leaned back in their seats, happily satisfied. For Harry, it was the fourth meal of the day and his eyes were only too happy to close. After all, it was very early morning in England.

"Delicious, didn't I tell you?" Draco smirked lazily across the table at Harry.

"Absolutely," he agreed yawning widely.

It had indeed been a superb meal, but Draco always did have excellent taste, so it was not a surprise to Harry. However, the highlight of the meal had not had anything to do with the food. It had been the simple joy of sitting next to Draco again even as he ate his evening meal. To watch the blonde's small quirks and to fall into a comfortable conversation and even more comfortable action with each other - it was more than Harry could ask for this evening... or anytime really.

At intervals, Harry would forget himself, and would reach over to touch Draco's wrist as he might once have done. When Harry casually reached over to taste Draco's food without permission, Draco had put down his fork. Harry slowed in his chewing, realising what he had done. "Sorry," he apologised, turning pink. Draco had raised an eyebrow, a curious smirk lifting his mouth.

"I did wonder if perhaps you would like my meal better than the one I ordered for you."

Harry blushed and Draco had picked up his fork and continued eating, though much to Harry's embarrassment, kept looking up and winking at Harry, or just making faces.

Presently, Harry pushed his back firmly against the seat, stretching quietly, reminiscing on the dinner. "I'm going to use the loo," Matthew announced, standing. "Then I'll have to leave to catch my portkey."

Harry glanced up at him, but his eyes were immediately drawn back to Draco. He hardly noticed that Draco was talking. He could hear his silky voice and relished in the sound, but did not recognise the words. What Harry did pay attention to was the way Draco's mouth moved around his words, and how very pink they looked after eating. He noticed the way his eyes were slightly glassy from a little too much alcohol, but so very grey, and so familiar. Harry noticed the way his blond eyelashes were still so long that when Draco blinked, they looked as though they brushed his cheeks. Harry smiled faintly. Ayida had inherited Draco's eyelashes.

Suddenly, everything hurt again. It was the little things that he had forgotten in the past four years. He had forgotten how Draco smelled, and how he wiggled his fingers as if he were playing a miniature piano when he was waiting or thinking, and the slight swagger in his walk, and the way his eyes softened when he was amused, the inflection in his voice when he smirked.... He had forgotten so much about Draco - too much. Harry could not even begin to fathom how Draco would feel when he found out he had forgotten Harry. If it would make Draco feel as Harry felt at this very moment - as if he wanted to die - then he almost wished for Draco never to find out. Yet... he did want it, because it was how things were supposed to be. They were supposed to be together.

Harry was brought back to the present by a gentle pressure on his ankle. He blinked, realising that Draco had caught him staring and was pressing his toe against him. "You're staring," Draco said quietly, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Sorry. I... didn't realise I was." He yawned loud and sudden, and then ducked his head sheepishly. "I suppose I'm tired... still on England time and all that."

Draco shook his head, his toe mimicking the movement on Harry's ankle. "It'll be an early night for you, then?"

"Probably."

Draco looked through his lashes at him. "It's too bad. I help run a club in the District, and I thought you would join me there. We could dance; have a few more drinks...."

"Do you accept rain checks?" Harry asked regretfully as he spotted Matthew emerging from the bathroom. "I should probably get settled in, and I think I should see Matt off."

"A rain check? Definitely." Draco glanced back, and spotting Matthew, leaned forward, surreptitiously placing his hand on Harry's knee. "I hope you don't find me improper for asking you to the club. Not that it would be a date or anything, just a - well, a get to know you thing. I would hate for this to be the last time I see you."

Harry's heart and stomach began to flip happily inside. "I would hate that too, actually. So, should we meet again tomorrow night?"

Draco's hand and toe retreated from Harry as Matthew came upon them. "That would be a brilliant idea, Harry." He stood. Harry kept an eye on Draco as he bid farewell to Matthew, and slid from the bench. He could not help the flicker south his eyes took, or the breath he expelled at the sight of Draco's trousers hugging his bottom so nicely. He raked his eyes down Draco's thighs, licking his lips at the thought of them wrapped around his waist. They looked so much stronger than before. Had he been working out? Harry thought faintly. He noticed for the first time that night that Draco's body was decidedly more built than ever. Again, his eyes retreated to Draco's arse. It was rounder. Harry bit his lip, unable to stop himself from imagining Draco sliding his trousers down and bending over a table for Harry. Just for Harry.

"I'll write as soon as I have something of substance to write." Matthew's voice brought Harry from his reverie. With no little embarrassment, he noticed he had got himself into a predicament and awkwardly stood, trying to adjust himself without anybody noticing. He caught eyes with Matthew, who quickly scanned his face and bit off a grin. Harry glanced away. Draco glanced back at Harry, a shifty look on his face.

"Thanks. Now's not the time for details, though. We'll talk more later." The pair shook hands and grinned at each other.

"I'm heading out for fresh air," Matthew announced. "Take your time, Harry. I need to enjoy my last minutes in good weather." He winked at Harry and then went to the exit.

Harry shifted uncomfortably as Draco turned to him. "It looks as though it has fallen to me to escort you outdoors, Harry," Draco said smoothly. Harry hid the shiver it sent through his body. He had almost forgotten how Draco's voice could be like velvet rubbed the right way when he wanted it to be, and he had forgotten how turned on it had made him.

"It looks that way," Harry flushed red.

Draco studied his face in an understated sort of glee, his eyes shining. The blond stepped towards him, his hand easily sliding into Harry's. "You are the most interesting person I have ever met."

"I highly doubt that," Harry shifted awkwardly.

"You are," Draco said sincerely, squeezing his hand gently. "You're just... you're comfortable."

"What do you mean?"

Draco studied his face some more and then shook his head, an honest, bewildered grin lifting the corners of his mouth. "You know... I have no idea." He shrugged. "I don't know why I said that. Does 'comfortable' constitute as interesting?"

"I don't know. You're the one who said it."

Draco stared at his face for a long while, his eyes roaming over every inch. Harry did his best not to squirm as gentle tingles raced down his neck and arms. "Perhaps in a way it's interesting," Draco conceded finally. "Answer me why your face is familiar to me."

For a moment, Harry felt at a loss. Finally, he shrugged and smiled helplessly. "You've probably seen my picture in the paper."

Draco contemplated him, a wide grin breaking out. "Wow. Not only are you conceited, you're also a dirty, rotten liar, Mr. Potter. But I'll forgive you this time, because it is probably the truth. You are rather famous, aren't you?"

"First of all, I'm not conceited. Second, you say I lied, but you know I'm telling the truth. How does that make sense?"

"I don't believe you're not. You'll have to prove it, of course. You see, you have this air of giving off that you're a dirty liar. You're sweating a little bit, and you're rather jumpy, aren't you? Next time you lie," Draco shook his head tragically. "You won't be spared my rather nasty temper. I don't like people who lie."

"Well, then you must not like yourself very much, Kalen," Harry said before he realised what he was saying. "I know I don't like you very much right now, you bloody hypocrite." He hurried to add jokingly and then clamped his lips together, feeling his face going red. Draco leaned back to appraise him.

"Well, now, who's got a mouth on him? Yes, I do lie, but only for the greater good," he replied imperiously.

Draco glanced back to the door. "I suppose I should get you back to your boyfriend."

"Matt is not my boyfriend," Harry said firmly. "I'm free to be with whoever I want." He gently rubbed Draco's fingers with his thumb. "That includes you."

Harry felt satisfied when Draco's cheeks turned pink. "You're such a liar," the blond said quietly. "Matt wouldn't give you up."

"It wasn't his choice whether we broke up or not. It was mine. And I say we've been broken up for a while."

"This is no way to begin a friendship, Potter. It's going to be difficult to keep all your little lies together."

"Well... then I'll make sure we don't get too much time to talk, now won't I?" After a few silent, awkward seconds, Harry blushed. Clearly, he had not thought that through. "I... I didn't mean it like...." Draco had thrown his head back and was laughing.

"No! No, I don't mind!" Draco gasped. "If that's what we'll be doing together, then I'll get to spend less time in the shower wanking."

Harry blushed harder and looked to the floor as an image popped in his head of Draco in the shower, skin slicked with soap, head back, mouth open with tiny breaths escaping, his throat bared.... He had come upon it before numerous times. It was not difficult to conjure up such an image. "I think we should go," Harry cleared his throat.

"Okay. I... are you free tomorrow then?" Draco asked. "I can pick you up at the hotel at one and I'll give you a tour of the District."

Harry nodded. "Sounds perfect." He tugged at Draco's hand and they made their way to the exit. Matthew was waiting against the wall, staring peacefully up at the sky. "Thanks for dinner," Harry muttered, secretly wanting so much more than the hand squeeze Draco afforded him.

"Tomorrow," Draco answered with a wink before he turned in the opposite direction and walked away.

Harry stood motionless for a few moments, watching him retreat; and he wondered how it was possible to fall back in love with somebody he had already been in love with in the first place. "Tomorrow," Harry whispered. "The lies will stop tomorrow."

"Harry," Matthew called. "I need to go now."

Harry nodded, seeing Draco disappear around a corner down the street, and finally turned back to the other man. "He likes you," Matthew said as he approached. "He was eating up everything you said and did tonight, especially when you'd touch him."

The two men fell into step with each other. Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. "He wants to see me again tomorrow. I thought I would have to 'bump' into him again sometime."

"You're lucky you're so likeable."

Harry could hear the grin in his voice, but knew when he glanced at Matthew that he was not feeling so jovial. He walked resolutely forward, his hands also stuffed in his pockets, his chin up, and shoulders tense. Harry decided not to further the topic. While Matthew supported Harry, he was obviously having his own problems coping. Harry wished he knew a way to make it better, but knew there was probably nothing - not anything Matthew would appreciate, at any rate.

"I'll switch my suite into your name," Matthew offered as they neared the hotel.

"That won't be necessary," a deep voice input from the dark of an alley. "Potter won't be staying."

Hackles raised, Harry turned, stepping in front of Matthew as if to protect him. However, as soon as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped from the shadows, he visibly relaxed. "What do you mean, I won't be staying?" he asked annoyed. "I can't just go home knowing what I know."

Kingsley shot an annoyed look to Matthew. "You weren't supposed to have found out quite yet, Potter."

"I had to tell him!" Matthew defended. "My plan in the first place was to tell him once I confirmed myself that it was Draco!"

Kingsley hushed him, looking down the street towards the restaurant, though they were well out of earshot of anybody else on the street and Draco was long gone. "We won't speak so candidly out in the street," he hissed. "Imogene has already retrieved your things, Pickleworms. You'll follow me to Headquarters."

Waving his wand and muttering a complex spell in Latin, Kingsley transported them to the Headquarters two streets away. Harry looked around interested. The room was a moderate size with plenty of windows overlooking the District and the Muggle world beyond. Two Aurors were conversing by a door which led to another room; one of the Aurors looked quite familiar to Harry. "Dean!" he exclaimed. Dean Thomas turned at the sound of his name and broke into a grin.

"Hallo, Harry! I just heard you were in the country."

"How long have you been here?" Harry questioned.

"About a week. Great news about Malfoy being alive though, right? Ron's just been itching to tell you."

"Not a time for small talk, Thomas," Kingsley barked, going to a desk to search in some drawers. Dean backed away, shrugging his shoulders at Harry. "I'll make this quick, Potter. The portkey for Pickleworms will activate in ten minutes. You're going with him quietly."

Harry firmly stood his ground. "I am not leaving this country as long as Draco is in it! He's my husband, and who until a few hours ago, I believed to be dead! I've kept my silence thus far, but I won't anymore. He has a right to know who I am. In fact, I have half a mind to find him now and tell him everything."

"You do so, Potter, and I'll hold you in contempt. You will be directly impeding any success we might have in this investigation."

"Tell me, Kingsley, is this investigation on Narcissa or Draco?"

"Narcissa," Kingsley clenched his teeth.

"Then there is no reason not to tell Draco who I am and that we have a daughter waiting at home for us."

Kingsley closed his eyes in frustration. "Believe me, Harry, when I say that I would like nothing better than to tell you that it's okay to inform Draco of his past and to take him home. Believe me. That is what I want for you. However, Draco is like a new spell in progress. He looks good right now, but test him and you won't be able to guess what the results will be. We've found out with Matt's help that he doesn't trust his mother to a point. But his loyalty is to her. She's all he knows, all he can really trust. Try to tell him that he's been deceived by her all along, then there's no telling what he will do."

"I know Draco. He loves his mother, but he never would have put up with it. What if I told him and he believed me? He would help put Narcissa away; I know he would."

"But what if he doesn't believe you? He'll run to Narcissa for answers. She will lie and then make him run. She has told him he is a criminal, Harry, and he believes it. When he disappears, so will she."

"I told him he's not a criminal, Kingsley," Matthew interjected. "He has trusted me. He would trust Harry."

Kingsley looked between them both, his eye twitching in the corner. "It's not going to happen. If they disappear, Narcissa will make damn sure nobody finds them ever again."

"That wouldn't happen! Draco would trust me!" Harry exclaimed.

Kingsley shook his head sadly. "You place too much credence in that Draco once loved you, Harry. You cannot feel what you cannot remember. He doesn't love you anymore. That is absolutely no guarantee that he'll place his trust in somebody he seemingly just met."

It felt as though somebody had dealt him a blow. Harry stepped back from Kingsley in shock. The words replayed in his mind. He doesn't love you anymore. It could not be true. Yes, Draco could not remember him, but that didn't mean....

"You bloody arse," Matthew hissed, coming to grasp Harry's elbow as if he were about to fall over. "You can't know that Draco doesn't love Harry anymore. You didn't see the way he looked at Harry tonight. It's still there somewhere."

"I was not trying to hurt him," Kingsley sighed. "There is always that chance, and I was only trying to be realistic."

"Harry has had enough reality on his plate tonight to last him for the rest of the year!"

"Don't worry about it, Matt," Harry murmured, shrugging out of his hold. "I don't want anything sugar coated." Harry held his face tight and his eyes hard behind his glasses. "Kingsley, I just want you to know that you're absolutely mad if you think I'm going home tonight, tomorrow, or the next day if Draco still does not know the truth."

"Fine," the Auror relented. "But you will agree to our terms, and you will follow them better than your friend Matthew did."

"For the record, he had no choice but to tell me."

"Be that as it may, you are not to tell Malfoy anything. Keep quiet, help us find something more on Narcissa, and you stay. If we're lucky, we'll be able to arrest her sooner rather than later, and then you can take your husband home."

Harry smiled at the sound of the last part. Soon, he would take Draco home where he belonged. "Fine. I'll do anything to stay here with him."

"Good. If you have questions, I'll answer them in a minute. Pickleworms, your portkey is going to activate in a minute. Come with me." He stood from the chair and hurried to the room Dean and his friend had been conversing in front of. "Thomas, get a listening charm on Potter," Kingsley threw over his shoulder and then disappeared into the other room.

Harry quickly approached Matthew and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Matt," he whispered in his ear and then pulled back to look him in the eye. "Really, you'll never know...." Matthew shrugged lightly, daring not to look him in the eye. "Look at me." Only when Matthew obeyed did Harry lean up and kiss him gently.

"Good luck, Harry," Matthew pulled away, smiling softly.

"Pickleworms, fifteen seconds!" Harry smiled and waved feebly as Matthew winked at him and disappeared from sight. After a few short moments, Kingsley reappeared alone and frowning as he saw Dean had only just started to place a listening charm on Harry. Instead of saying anything to his worker, the Auror sat on the desk and watched as Dean worked over Harry.

"Any questions, Harry?"

"Yes, actually. What would it take to put Narcissa away? I mean, isn't there enough proof against her already?"

"You would think so, but the laws on memory alteration are complicated. There are the kinds used to protect the wizarding world from the Muggle, which is a vast topic in itself. Then on the other hand, there are personal laws, which is even more complicated than the first. In the past, before the laws were made, a person could ask a friend or family member to alter their memory in order to forget something traumatic, or anything for that matter. But, when the person later found out that their memory was altered - which wasn't common if the spell had been carried out well, but it did happen - they would accuse that person of taking it away without their consent."

"They would go to Azkaban," Harry assumed.

"Right. After more than a few cases, the Ministry drew up a law where a Ministry official had to be present. Papers upon papers have to be signed and filed to avoid lawsuits and wrongful imprisonment. There are only about a dozen filed cases in the past hundred years and none of them are Draco's."

"Well, that much is obvious."

"But that does not necessarily mean that his memory was taken away wrongfully, Harry. Your supposed death unhinged Draco in many ways. It could have been his own mind cleansing you from his memory to make him better. He could have pointed his wand at himself for all we know. But what does not add up is how Narcissa fits in. Why doesn't she come forward if she had nothing to do with it? Why would she keep Draco from you and Ayida when she knows you're alive?"

"So, what exactly do you have on her?"

"We have Draco and his memory loss for one. We have the words he has told us through Matthew. However, those cannot be used in a trial without his consent. Although we hope that once he finds what his mother has done to him, he will have no qualms in releasing them.

"We also have recorded meetings of Narcissa with Draco in the past four years. Now we're attempting to get a trail. I have somebody who is somewhat of an expert on Dark magic, and has some questionable friends. It'll help because whatever method was used on Draco was not a normal 'obliviate.' It was too exact. To all appearances, you're completely erased from his memory. 'Obliviate' is much too broad for that."

"What is your contact doing to get a trail then? Is there anything I could help with? I have had contact with her, though she never really speaks with me."

"No, the contact is going to her friends and tracking all purchases - Light and Dark - made by Narcissa around the time Draco disappeared. If we get the ingredients for the right potion, and with all the recorded conversations, all the other concrete evidence we've compiled, our case will be solid."

Harry sat in a chair and contemplated all that he had been told. It all made sense to not tell Draco anything, but it would be so difficult. How long would he have to keep up this façade of a perfect stranger?

"Any other questions, Harry?"

"What do you need me to do while I'm here?"

Kingsley smiled tiredly. "Just do what you feel needs to be done, except for telling him who you are to him. If you can steer a conversation in the right direction, then do it. Otherwise, all I want you to worry about is getting to know your husband again, and him you."

It was the first time that night that Harry had not felt extremely angry with the Auror. He smiled. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," Kingsley stood. "I'll send somebody ahead to check you into Matthew's suite. Do you have clothes?"

"I didn't pack anything," Harry shook his head sheepishly. "I didn't think I would be staying."

"It's no problem. Your things will be waiting for you when you wake." Kingsley clapped Harry on the shoulder. "You're on your own from here on out... for the most part," he winked. "Goodnight."

Harry waved at Dean from across the room and left without speaking to him. He was much too tired for more conversation, and that comfortable bed he had spotted in Matthew's room earlier sounded much too tempting. Finally, it was time to put his mind to rest for the day.

***

The morning rose bright and clear. The temperature was already in the 60's when Draco decided it was time to open his eyes. He stretched long and cat-like, yawning loud. "Shut your trap, Kalen. You've already kept me up all night with your snoring." With a wide grin, Draco rolled over so that he was half on top of his companion.

"Oh, but Jude," he purred into his neck. "It's a beautiful morning." He thread his slim fingers into Jude's thick, brown hair. Jude was brought into Draco's life via their mutual friend, Stuart. They had both come from the states a few years ago to enjoy life in the sun. However, Jude had moved back to New York a year ago under an incredible job offer from some Muggle business tycoon. Draco could never remember the guy's name. Jude and Draco had hit it off months ago when they had met and they now enjoyed a semi-serious... 'relationship.' It was semi-serious in that Draco had not shagged anybody else since they had met.

After dinner the previous night, Draco had gone straight to his club, surprised, but not unpleasantly so to see Jude leaning casually against the club, smoking a cigarette. He had been on business in Europe for a month and had contacted neither Draco nor Stuart. Draco had stopped for a moment to admire him. He was not necessarily great looking. If they were to pass each other on the street as strangers, Draco never would have glanced back. His eyes were a rather plain blue colour and his nose a bit too wide. But his hair was rich with colour and shiny, and his lips were full and always waiting to be kissed. Draco loved kissing Jude, not just because of how his lips felt, but how he knew just where to put his hands and hold him close.

"The place looks like shit," Jude flicked away his cigarette. "And it smells worse."

Draco shook his head with a grin. "You're always full of compliments, you dickhead."

Jude spread his arms. "I live to serve."

Draco walked straight into his arms and kissed him hard. When they were breathless and pressing against each other, Draco suggested that they go back to his flat. He had been on edge all night since Harry had made it habit to keep touching him at every possible moment. So they did.

Presently, Jude groaned, pushing Draco's fingers from his hair. "Right... a beautiful morning to sleep. Get off me."

A tapping at the glass of the window interrupted them and both men swore. When Draco looked, a local bird was sitting outside, waiting with a letter. "Bugger it all, it's my mum's bird," he murmured. For a moment, he lay motionless, his muscles tense before shrugging and kissing Jude again. Jude succumbed until the bird began squawking. He pulled all of his strength together and threw Draco off.

"Get the damn bird!" he growled and rolled over.

"Tetchy in the morning, aren't we?"

"Annoying all the time, aren't we?" he retorted nastily.

Draco shrugged and climbed from bed, opening the window. A small note was attached to its leg and Draco knew exactly what it was. "You would think she would notify me before she gets here," he said grumpily. "Her and her stupid breakfast meetings and asking what I've been up to. You know, Jude, I have half a mind to just pack up and leave without telling her where I'm going. I'm 24 for Merlin's sake."

"Then do it," came the sleepy reply. "I'll find you no matter where you are and fuck you raw for leaving."

Draco grinned. For some reason, he loved Jude's crude conversational skills. "If a good shag is what you have in mind, maybe I will do it."

Jude muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, 'little bastard,' which only made Draco's grin wider as he opened the letter.

Darling,

I have just arrived in town yesterday evening. Do get yourself out of bed and meet me at our usual time and place. I look forward to seeing you again.

With love,
Mother

"Usual?" Jude asked, rousing himself enough to look up at Draco.

"Yes, I should shower and dress now or I'll be late. I hate it when she surprises me. I can't go to the gym now."

"One day won't kill you," Jude climbed from bed still nude.

Draco sat on the bed again and lazily admired Jude's backside as he gathered his clothing. "You forget it's all about the routine. I won't feel like going tomorrow."

"You and I both know that isn't true." He pulled on his boxers, balling up his clothes against his chest. "I'm going to go to Stuart's and sleep more. I'll see you later today."

Draco nodded and crawled across the bed for a kiss. Jude nipped at Draco's lips and slid a sneaky finger between Draco's backside. He bit down on Draco's lip hard. "Mmm... still open. Make sure you're open and wet for me tonight." He wiggled his finger around, stopping only to press against a most interesting place. Draco squirmed.

Jude pulled away. "By the way, I leave for New York tomorrow morning."

Blinking, Draco slipped off the bed in dismay. "What?"

"We'll talk later. You need to shower and meet your mom."

He Disapparated.

Draco did not mean to be a clingy, annoying... shag, but Jude normally stayed for at least a week. Sometimes he invited Draco to come stay with him for a week or two after, but there did not seem to be any forthcoming invitation.

Well, Draco reasoned, he's probably really busy with work. When Draco went to New York, he was usually alone from early morning to sometimes as late as ten at night. Jude rarely had a spare moment. Still confused, Draco made his way into the shower and within twenty minutes was ready to meet his mother.

As usual, Narcissa was waiting at their normal table, reading the Daily Prophet. "You're on time," she said surprised as he sat.

Draco immediately dug into the food already prepared in front of him. "I had somebody to push me into the shower."

Narcissa wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Not that awful Jude Preston, I favour."

"You have never met him," Draco scooped strawberries onto his plate. It rankled to hear her speak of people in such an unfavourable manner when she had never met them. He fancied she would feel the same about Harry. He would be kidding himself to think that she would not. Harry was a Brit after all and the Boy-Who-Lived no less. It was all the more reason not to mention his chance meeting with Harry Potter.

"He is a Mudblood from the states. That is all I need to know."

No, she definitely could not know about Harry Potter, half-blood extraordinaire. Bleeding sexy half-blood extraordinaire, Draco amended with a smirk. "I like him. And it's not as though I love him. We like to shag when he's in the country."

"That is quite enough information, Draco," Narcissa frowned. "Have you not found anybody more suited for you?"

"You mean a pureblood European wizard."

"Or witch."

"Mother, I have no inclination towards the female species, as beautiful as they and you are. You know that."

Narcissa sniffed. "As I was saying, have you found somebody?"

He was about to say that he had not, but then his thoughts returned to Harry. A delicious thrill of excitement coursed through him. Harry was from the correct part of the world... well, maybe not, but close enough. There was no doubt that he was wealthy. For defeating Voldemort had to have had its perks from the Ministry. He was charming, and so very handsome. Draco smiled thoughtfully. Yes, Harry was definitely handsome. He thought of the way Harry had blushed when he had received any of Draco's attentions, and how his vibrant green eyes had been clouded with some sort of lust when they had bid goodnight. Draco felt his groin stir at the thought.

"Draco?" Narcissa prompted after the silence had continued too long for her liking.

Draco had a story forming in his mind. But Harry was not a pureblood. If his memory served him, Harry's mother was a Muggle-born witch. Technically, one could say that Harry was a pureblood. It would not really be lying to say he was. A smile stretched his mouth. "Actually, I was introduced to somebody last night. I rather enjoyed his company. He's from Eastern Europe, Ukraine, I believe, and a pureblood."

"Excellent, Draco -"

"Kalen," he corrected, smiling harder when she glared. She so hated to be proved wrong.

"What is his name?"

Bollocks. He supposed he had not thought that far ahead. However, he did not let the smile waver. "You know, I don't even remember. You know how the names there can get confusing, at least for me they can be. Well, it's no matter. I am meeting him later today. I'll find out then."

"When you do find it out, give it to me and I will see if it is a suitable match."

Bollocks two times over. Draco frowned. His mother had too many contacts to get out of that one. She would spot his lie and demand to know why he had lied. "If you consort with men, you could at least have the decency to do so with somebody proper."

Anger boiled. "If I decide the Ukrainian is right for me, it won't be because of your influence," he fumed. "In the end, I will decide who I want to be with. After all, it's not your decision to make."

"Oh, Draco, I only do this because your past choices of men have been questionable."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "My past choices? Somehow, I get the feeling that we're speaking of more than just Jude. The last man I had a chance with, you did a fair job in sabotaging it. He was respectable by your terms - European, pureblood, and filthy rich. You know something you're not telling me?"

Narcissa stared at him for a long time. "Who you've consorted with is better left in the past."

"So you do know something of what I've forgotten!" Draco leaned forward in his chair and bumped the table. His glass of orange juice spilled all over the paper. Narcissa impatiently waved her wand to clear it.

"Draco, all I know is that you had some horrible boyfriend in Hogwarts. I do not even remember his name."

"I don't believe you," Draco hissed. "You know something and you're deliberately keeping it from me."

"I would never do that to you."

"From where I'm sitting, it does not look so certain."

"Believe what you must, but I tell the truth."

Draco picked his napkin from his lap and threw it onto the table. "I have somebody to meet, somebody I am sure you would not want me to meet with. But I will let you fret over it by yourself. Have a nice day, mother."

The blond stood and walked briskly away. Pulling out his pocket watch, Draco was surprised to see that it was only eleven. There were still two hours to burn before he met Harry. Perhaps he would go workout. Maybe it would help to burn away his anger. But no, now that his mind was back on Harry, he could not get it off. There was something... something that drew Draco to him. He could not even begin to fathom what that could be, but whatever it was, tingled beneath his skin and at the very edges of his mind. Draco could skirt it and say that it was pure attraction, but that was not it. It was true. As soon as he had laid eyes on Harry, Draco had been instantly on alert, his eyes hardly daring to move from the striking man before him. He was attracted, despite flannel and bedraggled jeans. Really, the flannel was not so bad. After all, Draco had one that was quite similar hanging in his closet.

What was even more appealing upon getting to know Harry was that he was almost painfully shy around him. Somehow it gave Draco a sick pleasure to induce that particular reaction from somebody, especially Harry.

Without realising it, Draco's feet had carried him to Harry's hotel and to the receptionist's desk, who told him the same room number as Matthew's. He still hardly gave thought to what he was doing until he was pounding on the door and found that nobody was answering. His heart was only just beginning to pound in agitation at the thought of Harry already having left when the door opened. A wave of relief washed over the blond, quickly followed by embarrassment as it seemed as though Harry had just woken up. Rather, Draco had woken him up. Harry had on nothing but boxers and a hasty bath robe which hung open. His hair was even messier than the previous night and his glasses were missing.

Harry blinked and squinted. "Oh. Er... Kalen!" His voice was scratchy with sleep still. Draco only managed to keep from smiling for the embarrassment he felt.

"Bugger, I woke you, didn't I?"

"I... yes, you did actually. But it's okay!" he hurried to say. "I never sleep this late and I don't want to get in the habit now. Please, come in."

Harry rubbed tiredly at his eyes as Draco entered, and he tried very hard not to think on how cute the darker man looked freshly awake. Draco glanced back for a better look at Harry's chest, probably still warm and soft with sleep. He wondered what Harry's skin tasted like at that very moment. "I'm sorry I'm early," he forced himself onto a different thought. "I was right around here for breakfast and I thought I'd come see you. I didn't think...." He trailed off. Never mind that it had taken him nearly ten minutes to get here from the café.

"No, it's really okay," Harry assured as he closed the door. He smiled warmly at Draco as he crossed the room to the bedside table. "I had trouble falling asleep last night, and then I just tossed and turned and kept waking up...." He smiled ruefully at Draco. "I slept in a bit later than normal. The wake-up call could have been a bit more pleasant though," Harry glanced playfully at Draco through lowered lids, then slipped on his glasses.

Draco felt his stomach twist. "Sorry," he swallowed. Would Harry never stop making him feel as though he had just been spinning in circles? Oh, this is ridiculous, Draco scoffed at himself. He's really not so attractive to set off your equilibrium, Malfoy, he thought, quite annoyed with himself.

Harry chuckled. "If you want to stay, I'll just get washed up and dressed. Then we can do something."

"I'll just read the paper," he gestured to the local paper, which he had just seen magically appear beside the bed.

"Great, I'll be out in a minute." Harry collected his clothes from a large piece of luggage and after glancing back at Draco with a smile, disappeared into the bathroom. Draco's heart flipped.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, collapsing onto the bed. "Bloody effing hell, I fancy the boffin."

Irritated with himself, he leaned back on his hands, wondering if he should just make a run for it before it was too late. But the spot in which he put his hands was still warm. He turned in his place to examine the place in which Harry had laid. The pillow still had his head's print on it. Draco reached out and gently smoothed his hand over it. Glancing guiltily towards the bathroom, he picked the pillow up and stuffed it against his nose.

"I'm such a sick bastard," he threw the pillow back. Biting his lip, he stared at it for a few moments before picking it back up and smelling it again. It was a faint smell for Harry had only slept one night on it, but his scent was there. It was sweat, soap, and something else that must have been specifically Harry. It was such a distinct, good scent, and what made Draco keep smelling the pillow was how familiar it was to him. He laid the pillow down after a few moments of contemplation and laid his head upon it. He toed off his shoes and curled onto the bed.

Draco lay there for some time, the side of his face lightly pressed into the fabric to let the scent of Harry gently wash over him. For the first time in a very long time, Draco felt truly relaxed... safe. He remembered that he had not felt safe since the first time his mother had told him he was a fugitive. When Matthew told him that he was not a criminal, he no longer felt safe with his own mother. He did not know who to trust any longer.

"The paper didn't hold your interest, then?"

Draco shot up from his position in a flash. He wondered how long he had actually been lying there, and hoped that he did not look too guilty. "I... I didn't pick it up," he found himself saying much to his dismay.

"Really?" Harry asked distractedly going through a bag of what Draco assumed were bathroom necessities. "What were you doing then?" Draco watched Harry's facial expressions in a subtle fascination. He watched as Harry pulled out a full bottle of cologne and wrinkled his nose, muttering, "What in the world?"

"I don't know," Draco shrugged. "Just relaxing."

Harry opened the bottle and smelled it. "Does this smell good?" he stuffed it under Draco's nose.

Sniffing, "yes, it smells like you."

"I don't wear cologne though."

"I know. I just think it smells like something you would wear."

"I should wear it then? Because I don't know why it's in my things, I don't own any." Harry paused, his brow wrinkling. "How do you know I don't wear cologne?"

Draco blushed. "I... smelt your pillow while you showered. And I don't know why I just admitted that. I'm a pervert."

Harry slowly took the cologne back, his eyes heavy on Draco's face. After a moment, he threw his head back and laughed. Draco shifted uncomfortably on the bed when it began to seem as though Harry would never stop. "You smell really good," the blond defended lamely. "I couldn't help it."

"No!" Harry gasped. "I just don't know why you would think that makes you a pervert. So you smelled my pillow. Who cares?" He turned back to face Draco, his eyes alight with mischief. "You do know the rules, don't you, Kalen?"

Cautiously, the blond shook his head.

Harry paced in front of him for a few moments and then went to his side, getting close enough for Draco to feel his breath on his ear. "You have to repay the favour, of course."

Draco shivered. "How would I do that?"

"Let me smell you."

"If you feel you have been wronged by me, then please don't hesitate," Draco could not look him in the eye. "It's only fair."

Harry's voice was a low purr in his ear. "I'm glad you see it my way." Harry gently took a lock of Draco's hair and put it under his nose. His other arm snaked around the blonde's waist and drew him near so that his hips were rising from the bed. Draco had to strain his leg muscles to help hold himself up. Then he wondered if he would ever be able to breathe again. Suddenly, Harry's mouth was at his ear again, but this time he did not speak any words he could understand. The sound came out in a series of low hisses. The shiver which rent his body went straight to his groin.

"You're a Parseltongue," Draco gasped, falling back to the bed.

Harry twitched an eyebrow up as he stepped away from the bed. "Does it bother you?"

"Why would it?" he breathed. "I'm a Slytherin. And it's... I...."

Once again, Harry brought his mouth to Draco's ear and hissed. Draco's body visibly shivered. "What did you say - both times?"

Harry's smirk was all games and his eyes devilish. "The first time, I said that you smell just as I thought you would."

"Nothing more?"

"What I said after that is for me to know," Harry smiled. "The second thing I said was that you are turned on by me speaking Parseltongue." "You can't know that," Draco whispered.

"You seem the type," Harry retorted, falling to the bed, his arm easily wrapping around Draco's waist.

The two men stared each other down for a few moments, Draco almost quivering under the stare. "You don't know my type," he murmured. But the way in which Harry stared at him, made Draco think Harry knew a lot more than he let on. The silence droned on again with Draco oddly content with Harry's arm about his waist.

Something was happening to him. He was being drugged. He was being bewitched. Why did he want to know this man? Why did he not care that Harry was doing something? And why... why did Harry stare at him so - like he knew everything there was to know about Draco and more? More importantly, why didn't Draco care? He should be frightened or wary, maybe both. He should push Harry away and leave. The thing was... was that he did not want to. For the life of him, he just did not want to pull away.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Draco finally asked, but felt foolish for doing so. Harry smirked at him.

"Do you want me to?"

"Would I regret it?"

Harry tucked Draco's hair behind his ear. "I would hope not," he said, concentrating where his fingers touched Draco's hair.

"I don't know what I want."

"I do."

Draco blinked. "What do you want?"

Harry shook his head to break from some sort of trance, and met Draco's eyes. "Now's not the time for too much truth, Kalen. We only just met, didn't we?"

Inwardly, Draco flinched again at the name. "As long as you don't lie to me."

"I would never." Slowly, Harry pulled away and went to look out the balcony doors. "Do you want to get out of here now? It's looks beautiful outside."

Draco was very glad for the change in conversation. "I wouldn't mind. Though I have to admit that I have nothing planned for the day. I was going to think of some ideas last night, but a friend of mine surprised me by showing up."

"And he kept you quite busy, I take it."

Draco could not see Harry's face, but he could hear the frown.

"It's no matter," Harry shrugged and turned with a grin. "We'll be spontaneous about our day." He went to slip on some sandals that sat by the end of the bed. "Let's go then."

"I have to lead the way," Draco called when Harry began walking away. "I'm the tour guide."

Only when Harry opened the door did he look back. "You seem to be much more than a simple tour guide, Kalen." He seemed to contemplate Draco. "Do you want to know a part of what I said after I smelled you?"

Draco nodded.

Harry smiled gently, his head cocking to the side. "I said, 'perfect. You smell perfect to me.'"

Then, something changed in his smile, but Draco did not understand what it was, nor did he give it too much thought as he was busy attempting to still his thumping heart. "Thank you," he finally said after a few moments. "And I think I was correct about you. You are probably the most fascinating man I have ever met."

"If only you knew."

Then Draco had to hurry from the room because Harry had disappeared around the corner.

***

Early in their day, Draco decided to get out of the Wizarding District and stay out until he was away from Harry. It was not as though there were not things to show in the District. It was more the matter of Narcissa. If she saw her son with Harry Potter, it would never come to anything good. Harry was English, after all.

Draco had once understood why Narcissa did not want him around anyone from home. But now... he had consorted with no less than two British men in the past two weeks. Draco had never changed his appearance that much. Anybody who followed the news would know who he is. Harry and Matthew had not reacted harshly to him. Matthew had even found it ridiculous that he thought he was a criminal. He had said that he wasn't.

It was still difficult to believe though. If he was not a criminal, why would Narcissa tell him otherwise? Perhaps it was Matthew who was not to be trusted. Perhaps even Harry was not to be trusted. Maybe Narcissa really was his only true friend. Deep down, Draco knew that he really should not be consorting with Harry, but it was difficult to get away. He did not want to leave Harry. He enjoyed getting to know the other man. Harry made him feel safe, and close to home, and dare he say cared for? Draco truly had no inclination to leave Harry's side. Perhaps it would be easier tomorrow to just stay away, but he doubted it. The blond liked the way Harry made him feel.

Even as the day carried on, Draco's hopes rose that Harry had no idea about the crime he may have committed. For one, he had never acted strange, and for another Draco had solid proof of Harry's lack of interest in the news, Muggle or wizard.

Draco's first clue had been when they had walked by a newspaper stand, and the front page of one such paper screamed the latest from the war in Iraq. Harry had glanced at it. "That war is still going on?"

Even Draco kept up with the Muggle war in the east. After all, Puerto Rico was a part of the United States, and anything that involved Muggles in the area that was to that magnitude usually brought the attention of wizards. He was quite surprised that Britain's involvement in the war had not caught Harry's. Harry Potter of all people was not paying attention to a war. It did not seem right. Of course, who was Draco to judge? He hardly knew the man.

Later in the day, Draco had decided to buy the evening edition of the local paper to which Harry had scoffed. Draco folded it under his arm and frowned. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm just a sceptic when it comes to the news."

"And why, pray tell would you be a sceptic, Mr. Potter?"

Again, Harry scoffed. "Exactly. I'm Harry Potter. I have every reason to be a sceptic. Besides, have you read The Daily Prophet lately? Actually..." he contemplated for a moment, "not just lately, ever? It's a bloody bottomless pit on false gossip and whoremongers. I've stopped reading it because you never know what's true and what's false. I've experienced their attacks first hand and I'm not about to become one of those stupid citizens who buys into their stories just because they say it's true. It's hurtful when it's not, and I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt."

"Not all papers are The Daily Prophet."

"No, but they've given me a serious lack of faith in reporters. They're all out for one thing and one thing only - a story. And I have no doubt that they'll do whatever they can to make a good one, even if it means embellishing the truth."

Draco's heart began jumping within his chest. It could really be true. Harry may not have ever read about his crime, and even if he did, maybe he would not believe it. "So... if you were to read a story about me in the paper about how I committed some heinous crime, what would you believe?"

Harry turned to study Draco. "I would believe whatever you would want to tell me about it."

"Don't you think that would be a little naïve?"

The darker man smiled gently. "Not at all. I know you better than any reporter who would ever tell a story about you. And I trust you to tell me the truth."

"Well," Draco looked down at his shoes, secretly pleased with the answer. "Thank you."

Harry nudged him in the side and they continued walking down the street. "Are you trying to tell me that you've committed some heinous crime, Kalen?"

For once, Draco felt he could be truthful. "Not that I know of," he looked up and grinned. "Anyway I can't say that I disagree with you on The Daily Prophet. Every time I have brunch with my mother she reads articles to me from it even though she claims to hate gossip."

"What sort of articles?"

"Oh, anything that catches her interest, I suppose. Most of the time, I could care less. She once read me an article on Matthew, you know, and how he wanted to settle down with his boyfriend...." Draco nudged Harry in the side. "And I really didn't care about it until I met you two. Odd that I did, really."

"Yeah... it is weird," Harry replied faintly.

Draco studied him in his sudden discomfort for a few moments. There were beads of sweat collecting on his forehead and upper lip. It was hotter than normal and Draco was just as warm as Harry looked.

"It's hot, right?" he commented.

"Yeah, I'm this close to catching fire."

"Well, that's great, because I've had an idea!" Draco bounced ahead of Harry and blocked his path, grabbing his hands as he did so. "Let's go swimming! There's a nice beach close by with plenty of sand and privacy. Want to?" Draco's eyes danced as he warmed to the idea.

Dipping into some cool water was just what he wanted. If it involved seeing Harry in next to nothing then what was the harm, really? "Actually," Harry looked sorrowful. "I was looking through my things, and I'm fairly certain I didn't pack anything for the beach."

Draco stopped bouncing on the heels of his feet. "You came on vacation on an island and you didn't bring anything for the beach? Potter, are you absolutely out of your mind?"

Harry shrugged.

"I pegged you for smarter than that, Harry Potter. I'm slightly disappointed in you. Well... it's no matter. Our sizes can't be that different, can they? I'll just borrow you something of mine."

"I'm a little thicker boned than you are."

"Not to worry, Potter," Draco grinned. "I think we look about the same build. Do you want to go swimming?"

"It sounds perfect."

Draco whooped, grabbed Harry's hand and ran down the street into an alley. "Hold on tight," he said with a twinkle to his eye. Harry responded with his own glint to his eye and cuddled in close to Draco's side. Draco's breath caught when he felt Harry's lips press softly against his jaw line.

"Tight enough?" Harry murmured, his breath hot on Draco's already warmed face.

Draco squeaked out in the affirmative, his face flaming as he did so. Harry chuckled. "Okay," Draco breathed out. "What are we doing?"

"We're going to your place to get something to swim in." His voice was a soothing whisper against his cheek, and then he kissed Draco's earlobe.

"I... I can't concentrate when you do that, Harry."

"I'm sorry," he apologised, but did not sound one bit contrite.

Draco made eye contact and shook his head. "You're going to give me nothing but trouble." Then he Disapparated and seconds later, they reappeared in the entrance of his flat. Harry was grinning at him. "I promise to make it worth your while."

Draco pulled away, his voice almost breathless as he attempted to gain his wits again. "I'll hold you to it."

"I hope so." Harry looked around the lobby and then shrugged. "So... what about that suit?"

"Right," Draco coughed and grabbed hold of his hand. "Upstairs."

A quick trip up the lift to the fifth floor found them in Draco's flat. The doors of the lift opened right into the spacious flat. There were windows lining every wall but one small wall and a terrace which lined the far wall outside. In the far right corner from the lift was an open door, through which was Draco's bedroom. The blond fought off a blush when he realised that there were dirty boxers and clothes sitting in a basket outside the door. He had had little time to clean up after himself as of late, and Narcissa had not sent a house elf in months. He hated cleaning. Luckily, he had needed to do the dishes just the other day in order to drink his tea, so the kitchen was, at least, relatively neat.

The living room was to the left of the bedroom, with two chairs and a loveseat arranged around a coffee table. If the coffee table had not been so well made and backed by spells, Draco was sure it would have collapsed under the weight of all the books. There was no room for an office, so he had his desk and a large shelf taking up the only wall without windows. The shelf and desk were also overflowing with books and Draco despaired he would never find a solution for all of them. He loved buying books and reading as much as he could. After all, when the club was running all right, and he had had all the sex (that is when Jude was around) and exercise he could handle, there was not much else to do.

Months ago, when Draco had lived in India, he had come across a rare book on auras. Shortly after purchasing it, he had needed to leave the country for somewhere else and had quickly forgotten his find for several months. But when stumbled upon again, Draco delved deeply into the book and many others of the same topic. He had decided that it would be useful to be able to read the auras of others. However, he had made little headway and really could only feel another aura when the person was asleep. The more powerful the wizard, the more difficult it was to detect. That was the reason Draco was not able to crack into Harry's. Wizards kept everything they were in their auras, their power, their personality, their feelings, everything, even if they knew nothing about it. The more powerful the wizard, the fiercer their power became while protecting the aura from outside invaders.

That, Draco thought, was exactly what people who studied auras were - trespassers. Because if Draco were to break into Harry's aura, he first could read the broad picture about what kind of wizard he is, light or Dark, and obtain a few other obscure ideas. Then he could pick at it, like picking at a loose thread on a shirt to make a hole. Through this hole, Draco could stick his finger and hope to make it big enough to climb inside. Only there would he really see who Harry was. He would feel the fears, hopes, happiness, love, sadness that have been stored away. Only the very strongest of which would be there, but they would be enough to tell Draco everything he would want to know about anybody.

Except becoming an aura reader would never really happen. To be able to see other auras, one had to be able to see and understand their own. Draco could see the big picture of his own, but he could not poke a hole to see inside. Only after a month's research had Draco figured out why. The word the book had used was 'lacuna.' It meant an empty space or gap, and Draco had one.

It was the memory loss he had suffered. A large portion of his life was gone to him, and so his magic felt the need to protect him. When it felt him poking at his aura, it had developed a wall, in a way white blood cells work together to fight off a sickness, his magic had worked to keep him from his mind. It would make him sick to see his own aura until the lacuna was filled. He would go mad, it had said, because he could not remember it as his own. The emotions he had once felt and could no longer remember would be too strong, and he would get confused. He would deny them as his own and confound his aura. Once a wizard's aura was confused, there was very little chance at them ever getting better.

So the study of auras had been put on hold and Draco had gone in search of books on memory. The only problem with it was, was that he had no idea exactly how he lost his memory. He was now grasping at straws. However, the setback did not stop him from trying to see the bigger picture of somebody's aura, especially Harry's. He was absolutely determined to find Harry's.

"That's a lot of books," Harry remarked as he came from looking in the kitchen, which was inset from the wall of books and desk.

"I like reading. But, you probably could tell that I was the type."

Harry haughtily stuck his nose in the air, a grin trying to force its way onto his face. "I could sense the bookworm in you, yes."

"If I'm a bookworm, you're a know-it-all, and I can say for certain which one is worse."

Harry lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest. "Now, Kalen, I won't have you putting yourself down. I don't see why you would think being a bookworm is so bad."

Draco smirked. "You're incorrigible."

Harry shrugged, leaning boneless against a chair. "Do you really have suits, or are you taking the piss to get me in your flat?"

"And into my bed? Exactly, Mr. Potter, you're very observant."

Draco watched him intently, watched Harry's Adam's apple bob and his inaudible, short intake of breath. "Now you are taking the piss," the tip of his tongue appeared between his lips.

"Am I?" Draco slinked up to him, let Harry feel the brush of his body against his. "Maybe getting you into my bed right now wasn't my true intention, but I do intend on getting you into it before you leave the island. Tonight, tomorrow, the next day... it's really your decision, Mr. Potter." Harry swallowed thick. Draco smirked and gently ran his fingertips across the flesh of Harry's neck. "Somehow I have a feeling that if I kept at this I could have you in my bed right now."

Harry moved his face so that he was as close as he dared to Draco's face. "Don't get cocky. It doesn't fit you as well as your smirk."

"I can smirk while being cocky if it suits you better." Draco stared up at him for a few moments and then smirked.

Harry cracked a smile. "I think you're the incorrigible one among us."

"How about we agree that we both are and I get you a suit. Otherwise, we may never get to the beach."

"Sure, but I have to tell you my intention before you do that, since you told me of your intention to get me in bed."

"What's your purpose, then?"

"It's just that..." Harry placed his hand on Draco's cheek and turned his head up more. "You need something to lead up to the bed part, don't you? Some sort of action?"

"We're not flirting enough for your liking?" Draco suddenly had cotton in the back of his throat. His mouth fell open slightly as Harry moved ever closer, his breath becoming harsher.

"I just enjoy having sexual tension reach its peak before..." Harry paused to bite down softly on Draco's bottom lip. "Before we can't control ourselves anymore."

Draco swallowed. Suddenly, Harry was in control of the situation, and Draco had been none the wiser as Harry turned the tables. Damn, he was good at it. And Draco still had Harry virtually pinned against the chair, and he was still helpless to do anything about what was to happen. "What are you going to do?" His voice came in a whisper.

"Nothing," Harry lowered his voice, his eyes rapidly scanning Draco's face. "Just... this."

Then he was lowering his head and Draco was breathless. Every scent on Harry's pillow that morning was invading his mind, his senses, and with Harry gently wrapping an arm around his waist, was making him dizzy. The lips that pressed against his felt full, and warm, and moist, almost like an exquisite piece of cake, but so much sweeter. Draco's eyes fluttered shut and he melted against Harry's chest. If Draco had been paying attention, he would have felt something click into place within him, but he was otherwise occupied. The end to the kiss came as unexpected as the kiss itself, and Draco stretched his neck up for more before he could think of what he was doing.

Harry gently tucked his blond hair behind his ear, pressing his cheek against Draco's. "Where's the tension if I give you more?" he whispered.

"If you keep creating tension, I won't be able to go to the beach until you give me a little alone time in the loo."

Harry chuckled. "Well, I'm done. For now."

Draco pulled away blinking. Something was different now, but he was not sure what. Maybe Harry was working magic over him. Maybe he was paranoid. "Okay. I'll go look for the suits. Make yourself comfortable. You may have to move a few books to do so," he shrugged apologetically.

"I might take a look on the terrace."

Draco looked at him through his lashes, smiling shyly. He turned, trying not to feel self-conscious, but the burn of Harry's eyes on his back made him blush and burn for him to come touch him again.

"Take your time," Harry murmured. "I'll wait for you, Kalen."

Draco could not help but feel warm with the promise. He hoped Harry's new intention was to keep it. Somehow, he knew Harry would.