Facade

The Lambton party departed from the Burrow at dawn, as Lambton was a goodly distance. Hermione was tearful as she embraced Draco and her parents. When the new Mrs. Weasley wished Harry good journey she gave him a sly smile that was unnerving to some degree. Although Harry was moving closer to admitting his feelings about Malfoy to himself, having another person know about them was something else altogether. Hermione's comment to Draco about being able to tell Harry's feelings for Draco made him acutely aware of his every action towards Malfoy in her company. He stayed by Ron's side as the carriage was loaded, and as the Grangers paid their compliments to the elder Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Malfoy turned to the younger.

"My compliments to your family, Weasley," Draco said, with great condescension.

Ron eyed Malfoy with clear disdain, allowing the blond to take his leave without insult. Now that he and Hermione were lawfully wedded, Ron was much more secure with himself around Draco, even if his dislike for the man would probably never lessen past animosity.

Harry embraced Ron as a brother, waiting until the other three passengers had boarded before taking his leave. "Don't miss me too badly, dear friend," he said. "You've got a new wife to take care of."

Ron nodded, but smiled. "Don't you worry about me, mate," he winked conspiratorially. "I shall take good care of my wife," he added with some pride, wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist. She smiled fondly up at him and then turned her gaze past Harry, to Draco in the carriage as if to warn him to keep his snide comments to himself.

Harry smiled Hermione's warning and glanced over his shoulder, meeting Malfoy's gaze and holding it for an extended moment, adding his own thinly veiled threat to the blond should he wish to stir trouble with Ron. Malfoy arched a brow as if to say 'Oh really?' before breaking the stare with a shrug and engaging the Grangers in conversation.

Harry turned back to Ron and nodded grimly. "If you don't hear from me in a fortnight assume that I committed suicide rather than bear two weeks in his company," he said, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

Ron laughed and Harry grinned wryly before he climbed into the carriage, and seated himself next to Malfoy, who, if he had heard Harry's parting comment, gave no inclination. He waved to Ron, who signaled the driver, and they were off.

~_~_~

The Grangers, Harry observed, were a pleasant enough couple to converse with on any subject and, to Harry's great surprise, they seemed quite at ease in Draco's company. More surprising still was the fact that Draco seemed to enjoy their company equally well, smiling and making jokes with Mr. Granger, as well as taking great enjoyment in his attempts to make Mrs. Granger blush.

Harry watched in silence, angling himself in the corner of the seat in order to see Malfoy interact with the Grangers. Draco would often glance at Harry, giving him a disconcerting smile that seemed to imply secret meaning between Harry and himself.

At some point the Grangers decided to nap, leaving Draco and Harry relatively alone. Harry shifted in his seat self consciously, looking at his hands. Draco seemed content to stare out the window at the landscape.

"Have you ever been to Derbyshire, Potter?" Draco ventured at last.

"I'm afraid I have not had that pleasure, no," Harry replied, his curiosity at this attempt at conversation piqued.

"Oh? Where is your family from, again?" Draco had a way, Harry noticed, of getting rather personal information out without seeming intimate. He wondered vaguely where he had picked up that skill.

"Godric's Hollow, up north," Harry answered. "Although, I spent the majority of my youth in Surrey."

"Ah, that explains your manner of speech. You lack a Northern accent."

"I was educated in London, as well, but I have been told my true accent appears when I am passionate," Harry admitted.

A smile curved Draco's lips. "Passion reveals all, Potter."

Harry blinked at that comment and eyed Draco, who inexplicably flushed before looking out the window.

"I expect to arrive at Lambton before sunset. The Grangers live halfway between the Inn I mentioned earlier and the Manor," he stated rather hastily. "I hope I don't ask too much to press your decision on where to stay."

"Oh, quite understandable." Harry paused, considering. "I don't wish to cause the Grangers to wait for me while I unpack," he said hesitantly. "Perhaps I can trespass on your hospitality at least for the night. If it becomes too much to ask I can always move to the Inn."

"Of course, Potter."

Slightly before dusk the carriage pulled up in front of a modest house. Harry smiled at it, noting it's comfortable nature, even if it was not the largest of accommodations. It suited Hermione very well.

Draco smiled fondly at the sight of the Granger home. "I remember the first time Hermione slapped me-by that tree over there," he pointed to a large chestnut tree with a self-depreciating grin. "We were about 13, I think. I had told her that she shouldn't be allowed to climb trees because she was a girl. I was rather full of myself at that age, feeling I could dictate everyone's lives by virtue of my name."

Harry arched a brow. "And how have you changed, exactly?"

Malfoy returned the look with a quirky grin and a chuckle "In any case, she slapped me hard across the face and told me that if I ever dared dictate to her what she could and could not do I would find myself stuffed with chestnuts in the most unmentionable of locations," he laughed, and Harry was surprised to note how infectious the sound was.

Their merriment was interrupted by the Grangers taking their leave, very politely, and wishing Harry an enjoyable stay. They extended to him an invitation, but he declined it, just as politely, stating he was going to be Draco's guest. They smiled and bid them both good night, and the carriage rolled on.

As it grew darker, Harry grew more uncomfortable with Draco sitting beside him. Malfoy had insolently stretched his legs across the carriage, resting his finely polished boots on the seat opposite them. His right hand gently caressed the leather seat between their bodies.

"Are we far from Malfoy Manor?" he asked at last, after they had driven what seemed like miles through trees.

Draco laughed. "These trees and grounds belong to the Manor, Potter," he stretched lazily and stifled a yawn. "But I imagine we'll be arriving at the house shortly."

Harry turned back towards the window, watching the great manor come into view on Draco's command. In the darkening twilight the house looked foreboding, almost malevolent. The carriage pulled up in the front park and Harry climbed down from the carriage, glad to stretch his legs and arms after the long hours of confined travel.

"Welcome home, Master Malfoy." Harry looked up to see a manservant approaching them.

Draco eyed him coolly as he descended from the carriage. "Where is my mother, Peeves?"

The servant bowed. "Lady Narcissa is in the drawing room with Miss Parkinson, awaiting your return, sir." His voice was raspy, as if he had not had occasion to use it for a long time.

"Fine. Take my belongings to my room and put Mr. Potter's trunk in the Green Bedroom in the East wing, " Draco ordered. "We shall join my Mother shortly."

"Yes, Master Malfoy." The servant scuttled off and Harry blinked after him.

Turning to Draco, he inquired about Miss Parkinson.

Draco sighed, "I suppose you'd have to find out eventually . . . Miss Pansy Parkinson is my intended, so to speak. Her mother and my mother have wanted to get us married since we were both in our cradles. Unfortunately for her, I have no inclination to marry."

Harry absorbed the small admission he willingly gave, noting that their situations were similar in some ways. He wondered if Miss Parkinson would be as accommodating to Draco as Miss Weasley had been to himself.

The entrance to Malfoy Manor was as impressive as the exterior of the house itself. Harry felt slightly intimidated by the wealth and permanence of the objects around him, his own wealth being so new. It was also less personal, in a way. The house bespoke the motto: it matters not who you are, so long as you are a Malfoy. After your death, another Malfoy will take your place, and so on, and so on.

Harry followed Draco through the halls to the Drawing Room. Inside was a woman whose hair identified her irrefutably to be Draco's mother. Her platinum blonde tresses were tightly pulling back, making the strong features of her face appear strained and taunt. She eyed Harry with obvious surprise, and contempt. Beside her was a girl. At least, Harry assumed that the form wearing a dark dress was a girl. Her nose was so upturned that had Harry believed in magic he would have thought her to have been a dog badly transfigured into a human.

"Draco, my son. So happy to have you home," Narcissa cooed. She eyed Harry again, obviously waiting to be introduced to the stranger.

Draco embraced his mother and inclined his head to Miss Parkinson before replying. "Mother, Miss Parkinson, allow me to present Mr. Harry Potter."

"Potter?" Narcissa wrinkled her nose. "The name is not familiar to me. Although, I did hear of a Potter once who ran off with a girl far below his class." She laughed haughtily. "The great irony of it being that they died tragically. But of course, we all get what we deserve in the end."

Harry seethed, his eyes flashing dangerously. "A pleasure, Lady Narcissa," he ground out. Turning to Pansy, he bowed, "Miss Parkinson. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance in town."

"You would not have, Mr. Potter,." Narcissa's voice interrupted sharply. "Pansy dear is quite the delicate child,; her health keeping her from being presented."

Harry blinked, catching Draco's rolling of eyes behind his mother's back and stifled a smile. If Narcissa noticed, she made so sign of it, continuing instead on the subject of Pansy.

"Had her health not prevented her, she would have been the town's most shining jewel. Don't you agree, Draco?"

_~_~_

The next day dawned sunny and clear. At breakfast, Draco barely addressed his mother or Miss Parkinson, much to Harry's surprise. At Harry's suggestion they departed quickly for the outdoors and a grand tour of the Malfoy estate. The morning was spent in the gardens, but as the weather grew warmer, Draco directed their path towards the lake, pointing out various trout streams and points of interest on the very extensive, and Harry had to admit, beautiful, Malfoy grounds. He followed his host silently, nodding when appropriate and absolutely sweltering in the sun's heat even in light summer trousers, waistcoat, and jacket. When they were beside the lake, a good distance away from the house, Malfoy turned around, cerulescent eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Up for a swim, Potter?"

Harry blinked, the brilliant green gaze behind gold frames flickering towards the lake and then back at Malfoy. "In there?"

"Of course," he grinned, his tone turning mock-conspiratorial. "Isn't it rather suffocating in all these clothes?"

"B-but. . . your parents," Harry stammered, obviously put off-balance by the suggestion, "…or Miss Parkinson." He glanced towards the manor itself and flushed. "What if they find us?"

Draco scoffed. "They're all getting cozy inside, I imagine-planning the wedding." His hands lifted and he tugged open his neckline, slender fingers dancing down the front of his jacket as he unbuttoned it. "Come on, Potter."

Harry flushed, turning his gaze away from Draco before mimicking his actions. Malfoy's invitation was as much a challenge as it was suggestion. Harry knew better than to back away from it as such. In a few minutes they were both stripped down to trousers.

Draco tried not to let Harry catch his hungry stare as he watched the other man remove his clothing. Knowing that, if that particular train of thought continued, his trousers would seem considerably smaller in a matter of seconds, he made himself turn away, diving gracefully into the lake. The cool water shocked his system, but he lingered, submerged. Surfacing a few moments later, Draco gasped as he broke the water, his fine hair plastered to his forehead. He saw Potter on the shoreline and taunted. "What? Afraid of a little water?"

A muscle tightened in Harry's jaw. He had been so distracted, following the slim form underneath the water, he had quite forgotten to follow suit. He arched his brows innocently before responding. "That would defeat the purpose, Malfoy!" he called.

Draco treaded water gracefully up to his neck, bobbing lightly. "What purpose would that be, Potter?"

Harry grinned. "Why that you've observed your form is most flattering while clothed in skin tight wet fabrics. I should stay here and enjoy the view when you emerge."

Draco flushed, but he called back cheekily, "My form is always flattering, Potter. I hardly need to resort to such womanish tactics if I wanted to secure your attention."

Harry walked down the wooden dock slowly, seating himself on the end of it and lowering his legs to the water. "I suppose you're right about that," he said noncommittally.

Draco swam over to Potter, floating in front of him. "You are afraid of the water, I think."

"Not at all." Harry kicked his left foot, splashing Draco.

"Then you've perhaps noticed how flattering it is to your form to be half naked and bronzing like a god.," Draco intoned susurrusly.

Harry flushed, causing the blond to grin. "Come on, Potter," he mock pouted. "I shall drown myself if you will not come in."

Harry scoffed, kicking his other foot and sending a spray of water in Draco's direction. "No."

Draco pouted, then submerged.

He did not reemerge for a long moment. Harry frowned, annoyed at Draco's jape . He waited patiently for the blond head to reemerge, but seemingly in vain. As the seconds ticked by, Harry grew inexplicably worried and chided himself for his concern. After all, Ron would thank him profusely at having convinced Malfoy to drown himself. But perhaps it was not voluntary submersion . Perhaps he'd gotten caught on a weed or something underwater and was drowning on accident. He got to his knees, leaning far over the edge of the dock, peering in the cloudy water for Draco.

He heard the splash before he ever saw the blond ascend, quickly reaching out to grab Potter's arm. Draco tugged, pulling him towards the water. Off balance from leaning over the end, Harry fell in unceremoniously, sputtering as he broke to surface to Malfoy's hearty laugh.

"You prat!" Harry gasped, flailing his arms helplessly. Luckily his glasses had not been knocked off, but they were spotted with water. Harry checked that they were securely behind his ears and peered through the drops at the blond in front of him, grinning with satisfaction.

Draco swam next to him, grinning. "Admit it, Potter. You are much more comfortable in the water." He laughed at the dark look Harry sent him.

"Very funny."

"And here I thought you would jump at the opportunity to be half naked with me," Draco said slyly, swimming in a lazy circle around Harry.

Harry flushed, rotating as he treaded water. "It's you who is eager to be half naked with me," he returned. "And as of yet I have not construed why."

Draco ceased his circling, moving towards Harry slowly. "Have you not, Potter? Perhaps you are a simpleton indeed," he said minaciously, a smirk curving his lips.

"At first you set yourself up as my rival," Harry continued, refusing to back down at Draco's menacing tone. "Do you deny it?"

The blond lifted a hand, slicking his wet hair back from his face. "I have no wish to deny it. I rejoice in my success at flattering Miss Weasley and unnerving both yourself and the Weasel in one masterful stroke," he arched a brow challengingly.

Harry frowned, his lips forming a thin hard line. "You find amusement in playing with a person's sentiments, Malfoy?"

Draco moved closer to Potter, noting how the dark haired man unconsciously retreated defensively.

He kept Potter's gaze as he responded. "You, dear sir, are just as guilty as I of playing with a person's sentiments."

Harry flinched, guilt about Miss Weasley and the conversation in the parlor flooding him. He felt exposed under Draco's predatory gaze. "It was not my intent to deceive her," he said honestly.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "It was not Miss Weasley that I made reference to, Potter. Or do you believe sentiments are limited to the female sex?" He continued propelling Potter backwards. They were nearly against the wooden dock, hidden from the view of any onlookers.

Harry flinched again, his own emotions feeling raw as Draco prodded him to painful admissions. "I never meant to deceive you," he whispered, his chest unbearably tight under the intensity of Draco's gaze. He gasped as he felt the wooden dock against his back and eyed Draco almost fearfully.

"Have you deceived me?" He lifted his hand from the water and brought it to rest on Harry's flushed cheek, tracing a line down the curve of his jaw. Harry shivered under his touch but did not pull away. "Is the bright look in your eye a pretense of interest? If so, I must applaud you as a most credible actor." Draco said.

"Malfoy…" Harry began softly. The blond's hand was cool against his heated skin. He watched with bated breath as Draco studied his face before bowing his head, pressing his lips tentatively against Harry's.

He closed his eyes at the first touch of Draco's lips, incredibly smooth and cool against his own. He was not a stranger to kisses, although the few he had received had all been while he was heavily intoxicated and generally by a hostess seeking more than just a tip. Those kisses had been heavy, suffocating. Draco's touch was gentle, almost inquisitive. The kiss was a question, asked more clearly than could ever be rendered in speech, and Harry found himself replying 'Yes . . . oh please, yes . . .'

As Draco pulled away, Harry became acutely aware of the closeness of their bodies, the water rising and falling between them as they treaded water. He felt Draco's hand slide from his cheek to underneath his chin, tilting his face up to meet the piercing blue gaze.

"Was I deceived, Potter?" Draco asked softly.

Harry shook his head, not trusting himself to speak as of yet, wet hair sprinkling drops of water on Draco's skin. He reached out, matching Draco's intense gaze with one of his own, and ran his fingers lightly from the delicate throat down to below the water, stopping mid-chest, inwardly grinning as the blond trembled under his touch. He pursed his lips, tasting Draco upon them.

"The time for façades has passed, Draco," he said at last, "at least between us." Something flickered in his eye as he continued. "I believe that, for the world at least, a façade around us is just beginning."