Third Time Lucky

"Draco?" Harry's voice broke in on his reverie, dispelling any attempt he might have made to ignore the ex-Gryffindor's presence. "Draco?"

"What?" he snapped. He instantly regretted it as he felt, rather than saw, the hurt in his roommate's eyes.

It had been torture of the worst, best kind when the Auror Department of the Ministry had assigned him Harry Potter as his partner. He had had a crush on the green-eyed boy since sixth year at Hogwarts, when Draco had joined the Order and had got to know the Harry Potter behind the Boy Who Lived. Somewhere between Hogwarts and Auror training, that crush had intensified until Draco was forced to admit to himself that he was in love.

The two boys had become increasingly close to each other in the two years since they had left school, so much so that Draco had learned to sense Harry's presence and mood without trying. It was this that had made the past six months doubly difficult - it was one thing to be in love with someone who didn't have a clue how you felt, but quite another to have to be in close proximity with said 'someone' and be constantly aware of their moods. It had taken all Draco's famous Malfoy self-control not to scream at the Department that no way was he partnering Potter because he couldn't take any more of those heart-stopping smiles Harry so frequently sent his way without breaking down and confessing everything.

I love you, Harry.

It would be so easy to let those innocuous little words pass his lips. He almost had.

Once, when Harry had decided he was working too hard, he had dragged Draco out to a Muggle cinema and promptly fallen asleep part way through the film. Draco had almost lost it. Harry had looked so peaceful - all the brushes with Voldemort, the trauma of the Final Battle, and intense training to become an Auror had not extinguished the Marauder in Harry, but Draco had never seen him look so relaxed as he had then. Watching Harry breathe, dusky lashes fluttering on cheeks flushed with sleep, he had almost given in to the sweetness. Instead, he had woken the other boy and resolutely ignored the ache in his throat as he watched those sleepy green eyes register his presence. He knew he had imagined the almost imperceptible softening in Harry's gaze as he woke to Draco's insistent shaking. He had supported Harry back to their shared apartment, all the time trying hard not to react to his closeness - even muddled with sleep, Draco thought Harry Potter was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

The second time, they had just completed a mission and Draco had taken Harry out to a Wizard's nightclub to celebrate. The club was named 'V' - a tacky attempt at cool, but he had found it amusing. Draco had glanced uncertainly at Harry as they approached the entrance, wondering if he would be made uncomfortable by the reference. He had been relieved, and more than a little turned-on, when Harry had just raised an eyebrow at the sign and let out one of those husky laughs that always made people turn to look. He had smiled all night through his jealousy as girl after girl came up to them, desperate to dance with the Boy Who Lived. Draco had turned all those who asked him down, content just to sit and watch the poetry in motion that was Harry, but Harry - stupidly noble Gryffindor that he was - had danced with a few. The jealousy had lasted until one particularly clingy girl had snagged Harry for the slow dance. Pulled tight against her, Harry had sent a desperate, pleading look at Draco, mouthing 'help!' with a comical expression that Draco couldn't help thinking was totally adorable. The jealousy had vanished immediately, only to be replaced by something more worrying - protectiveness. He had wanted to go over there and pull the girl off Harry before taking him in his arms for the remainder of the dance and telling him exactly how he felt.

Harry had been wearing leather that night. When he had emerged from his room ready to go out Draco had almost choked. Breathe, Draco. It's just Harry.

Just Harry?!? Are you insane?!?

Deal with it.

But he's wearing leather!

So?

So, he looks...

I dare you to finish that sentence.

Mmm... No. Just keep breathing... And close your mouth.

It had been doubly hard to stay objective that night - Draco couldn't blame the girls for falling over themselves to dance with the green-eyed boy. And when Harry had got so drunk that Draco had had to Apparate them both home - Harry's body pressed tightly to his own, tormenting him with his nearness - he had almost cracked. Especially when Harry had turned to him in the hall and whispered 'thanks, Draco' in that soft voice that never failed to drive him wild, and looked up at him with those amazing eyes, and...

...and then Harry had kissed him.

It was so gentle - a light brush of lips that sent barely controlled shivers running through him. But oh...

Draco had needed every ounce of self-restraint he had ever possessed not to cling to Harry and lose himself completely, but he had done it. He had pulled away and left Harry in the hall, shutting himself in his room to alternately relive the most amazing kiss of his life and berate himself for being so stupid as to fall in love with Harry Potter. He didn't see the hurt in the green eyes he left behind.

That had been a week ago. A week of trying to pretend it hadn't happened and that everything was fine - that he wasn't in love with Harry and that he wasn't really trying to avoid him. But now Harry wanted to say something.

"Sorry, Harry." He looked up to smile at the raven-haired figure, unable to conceal his instinctive reaction behind his usual mask of calm. Harry was the only one he couldn't help smiling at. The sharp intake of breath from the other boy when he saw the smile went unheard. "What news from above?" He glanced at the letter in Harry's hand which bore the Ministry seal, deftly hiding his apprehensiveness with the light comment.

Wordlessly, Harry held out the letter for him to take. Draco opened it carefully, concealing his shaking hands under the table as he read:

Dear Mr Potter,

We at the Ministry are delighted to inform you that there is now an available post in Paris. Last year you expressed an interest in working abroad and we have therefore decided that you would benefit from this opportunity. Please owl us your decision by May 1st.

Sincerely,

Matilda Marchbanks

Head of International Relations.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Don't leave me... "Well, that's just... That's just great, Harry." He looked up a second too late, again missing the pain in Harry's eyes. "May 1st is tomorrow - have you owled them yet?"

Harry stood silent, gazing at the floor. After a moment, "You think I should take it?"

No. Stay with me.

"It's a great opportunity, right? And you know your French is awful - you could do with the practice." Draco kept his voice light, deliberately not looking into the other boy's eyes and instead focusing on the curve between Harry's cheek and neck. On second thoughts, bad idea - focus on something else - look! A burn on the table - I wonder how that got there? "You'd better hurry and reply - Hedwig's a fast flyer, but she won't be there before midnight if you don't send her soon."

"Yeah, I know," said Harry, sounding inexplicably disappointed. "I just wanted to know what you thought. I'll go tell them okay then." He lingered for a minute, but when Draco refused to look up he left, sighing quietly.

Draco raised his eyes from their contemplation of the table-top and rubbed a sleeve over his face, angrily. Harry was leaving him. Don't do this to me... Harry was going to Paris, where he would doubtless meet some seductive French woman who would never be right for him, but he'd smile at her anyway - those gorgeous, heart-stopping smiles... Gods, Harry, don't go!

Don't go. Don't go. Don't go.

He shut himself in his room, muttering the silencing spell before proceeding to trash everything in sight, clean it up with a flick of his wand, then trash everything again. I love you, Harry. He collapsed on his bed, finally exhausted, at one a.m when he heard Hedwig return. The stormy grey eyes closed and he fell asleep with Harry's name in his head and his own tears salting his lips.

Draco awoke a few hours later to a slight scuffle on the carpet outside his room. He was about to call out to Harry, but then he saw the piece of parchment on the floor. Silently, so as not to alert the other boy that he was awake, he crept over to the door and picked the parchment up, studying it. It was a letter. From Harry.

Draco,

I'm sitting up writing this at about midnight - I've tried to get to sleep but I just can't. Normally, I'd say I was excited about this job, but that would be a lie. I don't want this job.

Oh, sure, I applied for it, but that was last year - last year, when I wanted to get as far away from you as I could. That sounds bad - sorry. I don't mean it like that. What I mean is... well, I guess what I mean is that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for getting you landed with me as a partner these last six months. It must have been awful for you to have to put up with. I know you've never bought into the whole 'Boy-Who-Lived' stuff. That's one of the things I - like - about you. The point I'm trying to make is that the last six months have been so great for me - you've put up with so much, and you rarely complained (except for that time I mixed up the sugar with the salt and you got salty cornflakes with your morning coffee, but never mind that).

I loved working with you in the Order - that was how I got to know you as more than just 'Malfoy'. That was when I met Draco. And I really liked him. When you started training the same time as me I almost gave up. It was too much, Draco. I had to see you every day in classes but not go near you - not talk to you. That was when I decided to go abroad - I thought maybe if I was far enough away from you, you'd stop haunting me.

That's what you do, you know. Haunt me. Everything I did, everything I wanted from life - it all seemed to come back to you.

I asked you if you thought I should take this job. I'd already written two answers when I showed you the letter. In one of them I accepted the job. In the other... In the other I told them I didn't want to leave you. Your answer decided which one I sent.

I'm leaving now, before you wake up, so I don't have to face you when you've read this. I don't really know why I wrote it, but I think you deserve to know how I feel.

I don't want to say goodbye. It'd be too final. I don't know what you'll think when you've read this, but, whatever you feel, please don't pity me. I can take most things from most people - the whole world seems to have a claim on me these days - but not pity. Not from the one person in the world who knows me better than that.

I don't think I'll see you again. I'll miss you so much, but I guess it's better that way. I can't take any more of this closeness-that-isn't-closeness. I don't know if I can keep it inside anymore.

Here - I've given you my last confession. You always loved secrets - I guess it's the Slytherin in you - well, here's mine:

I love you, Draco. I have for a long time now. I don't think you've noticed - if you have you've been decent enough not to confront me about it. I think your smile is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And your eyes. You have unbelieveable eyes.

It's not really goodbye. I'm leaving a part of me behind with you. I have to go now - any longer and I'll change my mind.

Always yours,

Harry.

PS: Sorry I kissed you last week. I just wanted to so much, and I thought... well - I don't know what I thought. Anyway, I'm sorry.

PPS: I've changed my mind - I'm not sorry. It was the most amazing thing I've ever felt and there's no way I'm going to apologise for it.

Draco reread the letter three times before it sank in. Harry was in love with him. Harry's in love with me.

Yes, and he's leaving.

Oh shit.

No, wait - listen!

Draco listened. From what he could hear, Harry was in the living room, talking to somebody. Draco threw on a shirt over yesterday's jeans and crept out into the hall. He could just see the other boy's silouhette by the fire. He was on the telephone - a Muggle device Hermione Weasley had insisted they get when Harry moved in. Draco had often teased Harry about being much more comfortable with the 'phone than the Fire-calls he favoured. He tiptoed closer to the doorway.

"Hermione? Yes, it's me. Early? What time is it? ... Oh Gods, I'm sorry - I'll call later. No, really - everything's fine. Yeah - I was up all night. ... No, no - the nightmares stopped when I moved in with Draco."

They did? Interesting...

"I'm just leaving. ... Yeah, I got that job in Paris. ... Of course I'm pleased! ... How can you tell? ... Okay, okay, so I'm bloody miserable - happy now? I don't want to leave him, Hermione. ... No. Well, sort of - I left a note."

"A note!" Hermione's voice became briefly audible in her outrage. Draco suppressed a smirk. Good old Hermione. He moved silently into the room.

"Yes, a note. I don't want to have to face him when he finds out. ... Of course he doesn't! Hermione, listen, I know you and Ron worked it out, but there's this tiny little factor of he loves you, too. Draco doesn't - just doesn't - ah, forget it. I have to go - I'm catching the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley. ... I'll be fine - really, I promise. ... Okay - take care. Tell Ron I'm sorry I woke him. ... Yeah, I will. 'Bye, Hermione."

Draco was almost directly behind Harry when the boy turned. And froze.

"D- Draco," he whispered. "What...?"

"You didn't say goodbye, Harry," he admonished him, a slight smile dancing in his eyes. "Bad manners, that."

"Right..." said Harry, weakly, looking at the floor. "Goodbye, then."

Draco sighed. "Wrong answer, Harry."

Silence. Then, "Don't do this to me, Draco!" Harry burst out, eyes snapping back up to look at him, anguish written all over his features. "I know you've read the letter, and I told you why I wrote it, so can't you just make it that little bit easier for me and let me go?"

The blond boy smiled. "That's the problem, Harry," he whispered, leaning closer. "I've never been able to let you go."

Harry's eyes went wide behind his glasses, a swirling mixture of hope, fear and lust. Draco found it entrancing. He lifted his hands and removed Harry's glasses, enjoying the sharp intake of breath his touch evoked from the ex-Gryffindor.

"Even with those glasses, you're blind, Green-Eyes," he murmured as he closed the gap between them.

"Draco, I -" Harry began, but he was cut off by Draco's kiss.

Harry's lips were soft, warm and welcoming against Draco's and Draco found himself putting every ounce of passion and tenderness he'd ever felt for Harry into the kiss. When he felt Harry respond he became more insistent. He swept the tip of his tongue along Harry's bottom lip, making him moan with suppressed desire.

I want you, Harry. Right now.

Harry's hands were all over him, stroking him, caressing him, driving him wild. Harry. Oh, Gods, Harry - what you do to me. Draco gasped as Harry's tongue slid into his mouth, claiming him. It was the most incredible feeling of his life. That is, until Harry pulled him tight against his body so that he could feel Harry's arousal against his own.

Now Harry - right now.

Somehow they were on the floor, tearing at each others' clothes, two years of suppressed longing coming to the surface in an instant. They made love right there, neither giving a thought to the slow and tender first they had both imagined - this was real, and it was better than any fantasy.

Afterwards they lay together for some time, arms around each other, Harry's eyes shut tight from the intensity, his face buried in Draco's shoulder, listening to Draco whisper over and over:

"Stay with me Harry - I love you. I love you so much - please don't leave. I love you, Harry. I love you..."

"I love you, too, Draco - so much. Don't let me leave you - I don't want to leave you..."

* * * * *

A few days later, the Ministry of Magic would receive an owl bearing the following letter:

Dear Madam Marchbanks,

With regards to my earlier application for the Paris post, I am sorry to disclose that I will be unable to fill the position. I would, however, be glad to continue in my present capacity as Auror for the British Ministry. My partner, Mr Malfoy, and I will shortly be taking a brief holiday to celebrate my refusal of the position.

Please accept my apologies for any inconvenience.

Sincerely,

HJ Potter.

"Come on, Harry - time for bed!" Draco grinned wickedly at his lover's reflection in the living room mirror before planting a not-so-subtle string of soft kisses on his neck.

"Mmm... but I'm not sleepy..." Harry challenged, putting down his quill and leaning into his embrace.

"All the better..." he whispered as he guided Harry to his room.

FINE.