Convocare

Harry slumped onto the bench in the Catapults' locker room; the coach of his new team was demanding on an easy day, and he stepped up his expectations several notches on the days preceding a match. In this case, their match with the Harpies was coming up in just over a week. The Harpies were the only other team based in Wales, making it a fairly decent rivalry, and therefore deemed to be extremely important by Flavius Windsor.

Harry let his head lean back against his own locker, closing his eyes, mentally going over the rest of the day. He had another class that evening at Stonehenge, and he was supposed to meet Ron and Hermione in Diagon for dinner before class. He still had to make a meeting with Snape as well - there were more and more Slytherins, ranging from those in Harry's own Hogwarts year to those who had attended with Bill Weasley, who were seeking out sanctuary from not only Voldemort, but also public opinion. Slytherin had never been as large of a house as Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, and while some Ravenclaws understood, the Slytherins that did not support Voldemort were generally finding themselves in an unenviable minority of the wizarding world.

Sitting up reluctantly, Harry checked his watch. Already four o'clock. He hadn't seen Draco since before breakfast that morning; twice daily Quidditch training was the norm during the fall months. At the rate he was going, though, he would see his lover only long enough to exchange a hug before falling to the mounds of homework that accompanied the Magical Law program. Harry groaned, and pulled himself to his feet.

"Al'right there, Potter?" a voice called cheerfully, and Harry had to fight to suppress another groan. Seamus Finnigan's mum had had a younger brother, and Harry had the (mis)fortune to play with the man on the same team. Harry thanked his lucky stars that Patrick O'Flannery was retiring at the end of the season.

"Yeah, Paddy, he's fine. Let him go be the Boy Who Showered," catcalled another member of the team. This time Harry didn't hide his groan, or the glare he tossed towards the reserve Keeper, a former Ravenclaw team captain.

"Shut it," he growled. "What time's practise in the morning tomorrow?"

"Six-thirty," Patrick called. "We're supposed to get here earlier since it's Saturday."

Harry turned the taps on and let water that was nearly scalding pound into his skin. Six-thirty, and he had no doubt that practise would last longer as well. He banged his head against the wall. Why, oh, why, had he thought that he could handle both professional Quidditch and parttime coursework? Midterms were approaching on the Monday following the match with the Harpies, and there was another match that Friday, against the Cannons, which meant Harry would have to invite Ron regardless of his own playing status. Harry lathered up quickly, giving his hair a cursory wash, before stepping out of the stalls and shaking out the water that seemed to saturate his hair, regardless of what he did. He, like the rest of his teammates, generally didn't worry about covering up in the locker room, since it was a single locker room and mixed company to begin with.

"Lookin' good, Golden Boy!"

"Oi, Davies, go screw yourself!"

"But you could help, oh wonderful one."

"Never happen, Davies. Never happen."

The man pouted but Harry ignored him, turning his attention to getting dressed. Muggle clothes or robes? He was going to see Professor Snape, and Ron and Hermione tended to get annoyed when he showed up in the Alley in Muggle slacks. Wouldn't matter at Stonehenge either. Mind made up, Harry reached for the robe he kept in his locker and shrugged it on. Good that he was wearing it when he wouldn't be seeing Draco, as well; Draco was convinced that Harry shouldn't be wearing any form of the Gryffindor colors, and the grey robe with red and gold trim definitely qualified. Oh, well, Harry thought with a grin, it'll piss off Snape.

"See you lot bright and early," Harry called as he exited the room, schoolbag and dirty practise clothes in hand. Friendly waves were shot in his direction, and he closed the door firmly behind him before Apparating directly to Snape's house. The Potions Master would be arriving from Hogwarts momentarily. Harry settled himself on the stone stairs in the garden to wait.

"Mr. Potter. Would you care for some light refreshment?"

Harry looked up, startled. "What? Oh, no thank you, I'm supposed to meet Ron and Hermione for dinner in just over an hour."

"Then we'd best get started," Snape said with something faintly resembling a smile. "I have three more individuals to place."

"Whew. I really thought that the numbers would start to slow after awhile," Harry said with some surprize. "Or maybe I just forget how many students there really are at Hogwarts."

"Perhaps the latter," Snape agreed with a small smirk. "It is approximately fifteen classes that we are targeting, at thirty members per class, give or take. Even if half of them join Voldemort, that would still leave 225, plus families for the older ones, that could request our help. Eventually, perhaps, there may be some Ravenclaws seeking assistance as well."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "That is true. Do you have the packets for each of them?"

"Of course." Snape slid three Muggle manila folders across the table towards Harry. "Everything should be in there. Do you need a refill on Polyjuice yet?"

Harry shook his head. "I bought the ingredients and Draco's making it. It's about all the magic he can perform right now, so it helps."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Malfoy is well-equipped to handle your, ah, potions needs." The older man smirked at Harry, who shifted uncomfortably. He was never sure if his former professor meant to sound as if he was employing sexual innuendo, but he certainly was not about to ask.

"If that's all then?" Harry responded, half-standing.

"Yes. I think you had best not report their exact locations to me any longer. My own work is becoming more demanding. Shall we meet at the same time, two weeks hence?"

"Of course. Yes, two weeks is fine. Perhaps we should make plans to discuss my taking on more of this job at that time." Harry wanted to smack himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Take on more work? What was he, delusional?

"That might be prudent," Snape agreed. "Very well. Good day, Mr. Potter. Enjoy your evening with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, and please give my regards to your paramour."

"Er, yes. Certainly. Thank you. Good evening." Slightly flustered, Harry walked a few steps away from the table, into the garden, and raised his wand to Apparate to Diagon Alley.

"Harry! There you are, honestly, can't you at least let us know if you're going to be late?" Hermione's voice intruded on his conscious mind just seconds after he arrived in the Alley. He opened his eyes and regarded her steadily.

"Hermione, how many things do you do in one day?"

"Well, I attend class, of course, and I work in the lab with Professor Augustus, and there's tutoring some of the other students in basic Herbology once a week."

Harry nodded. "Right, then. When you have days like mine, you can scold me for being" - Harry checked his watch - "five minutes late. Until then, kindly refrain."

"Sorry," Hermione replied, somewhat abashed. "It's been a long day for me, and I'm just hungry. I sent Ron on to get us a table."

"Where are we eating?" Harry raised an eyebrow. He couldn't remember the last time he had suggested a place. He had a hankering for some of Indian-Thai-Japenese fusion that Leviosa served, and had for quite a few weeks, but it seemed that Ron was always selecting places like JicamaJacket and Arizona Steakhouse, heavy on steak and potatoes, lean on anything, well, lean.

"We haven't been to Jeremy's in quite a few weeks, so we thought we'd go there."

Harry couldn't help the groan that escaped his mouth. "Herm-own-ninny! Don't you and Ron ever get tired of steaks?"

Hermione blinked. "What are you talking about, Harry?"

"You and Ron always choose were we go. It's either JicamaJacket or Arizona or that Muggle place, Chilis, or Jeremy's, or worse, Hooters, which I still can't believe we exported to the Muggles. This is the only night I make time to eat somewhere besides my apartment, a classroom, or the team cafe, and dammit, I want something that's not beef!"

Harry flushed as soon as the words had left his mouth. Damn, that was a rant worthy of Draco. Hermione stood still, blinking, before she spoke. "You're right, Harry, we have been choosing all the time. Where do you want to go?"

"Leviosa." His tone was definitive.

"Then Leviosa it is then. You run on to the restaurant and I'll collect Ron at Jeremy's." Harry nodded his agreement and set off.

"The wait will be approximately one hour, Mr....?" the maitre'd at Leviosa said imperiously a few moments later. "Perhaps you would rather patronise another establishment this evening." The man had obviously spotted his clothes bag and schoolbag and marked him for someone unable to spend the money.

"No, I believe Leviosa is where I choose to dine tonight. You can put down a notation for three, under Potter." He swore under his breath. The man would think he was throwing his name around.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, I am sorry that we didn't recognise you! Of course, of course, we can seat you in just a few minutes."

Harry looked around at the other hungry people waiting. "That won't be necessary. Just place me at the bottom of the list, as you should." Harry stepped away from the lectern and found an unoccupied bench. Ron and Hermione approached just moments later.

"Harry! How are you, mate? Hermione said you weren't in the mood for Jeremy's tonight. What's up with that?'"

Harry had to laugh. "Ron, I don't really like steak or any beef all that much, if you hadn't noticed." He smiled to soften his words. "The wait's long, but we can order some wine and hor d'eorves out here."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Excellent. What do they have?"

"Several French and Italian blushes that are excellent," Harry replied easily. "Their champagne offerings lean towards the acidic side though."

"No dessert wines?" Ron said planitively, and the trio laughed. Ron only drank the sweeter wines, and he was quickly lost when Harry and Hermione debated the relative merits of a particular vineyard or year.

"I didn't check," Harry replied honestly. "I didn't think I'd ever manage to get here unless I came myself, so I didn't think to inquire or check the end of the review in the Prophet."

"So, see, Ron, there's still hope." Hermione smiled winningly at the redhead, then swung her head around to beam at a passing waitelf. "Hello, dear. Could you possible bring us a glass of dessert wine, these two appetizers, and also two glasses of..."

Harry tuned out the sound around him as Hermione ordered and Ron began talking about the Puddlemere/Cannons match he had attended two days before. Harry closed his eyes to rest. The delay in seating meant he'd have to rush to get to class. He'd probably be late and have to stay after copying notes; luckily, Draco knew that it could be nine-thirty or later before he made it home to the apartment. Then he sat up, a sudden thought intruding on his silent reverie.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione was alarmed. "Is it... you-know-who?"

Harry snorted. "No, no, Hermione, I'm fine." He paused a moment. "Luckily, he's been quiet lately. No, I just realised that I could get a bit of work done while we waited." He reached down and pulled out one of his texts and continued the reading that had been assigned for Monday.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron said, wide-eyed. "What's happened to you?" He turned and stared accusingly at Hermione. "Did you hex him?"

Hermione laughed melodically. "No, I suspect Harry's just had the reality of how full his plate is come slamming home."

Harry nodded absently. "Exactly."

The next hour passed pleasantly for Harry - he read, and Ron and Hermione went to another bench to talk. He had made good headway into one of the assignments that was due on Monday, and maybe he'd actually even have the time to say more than "good night" to Draco. He hoped.

In the middle of the meal, Hermione and Ron exchanged a significant look and then faced Harry. He groaned. What was up now?

"Harry," Hermione began. "Ron and I think that you are running yourself thin. We've been talking to Sirius, and he hasn't even heard from you in a week and a half!"

Harry regarded his two best friends steadily. "Hermione, when's the last time you were in touch with your parents?"

"Two nights ago," Hermione replied promptly. "And before you ask, I know that Ron's been owling Mrs. Weasley regularly as well."

Harry nodded. "While I concede that, perhaps, I could owl Sirius more regularly - although I thought every two weeks was working fine - I don't think you quite comprehend that I have a full-time job, I'm a part-time student, I have to keep up proper appearances in the Muggle world, and there are several smaller jobs that I have taken on against Voldemort." He took a deep breath. "So while I understand your concern, it's a bit misplaced. Not to mention that, as you know, Hermione, midterms are approaching."

Smiling ruefully, Hermione nodded. "But, still, Harry, you're worn thin. Isn't there something you can do? Or, rather, not do?"

Harry shook his head. "No, not really. I will be taking one less class in the spring though, and I'm going to take a couple of classes over the summer so that I can have a lighter load next fall." He smiled charmingly. "I'll be fine, really, Hermione. I promise."

Hermione was still frowning, but Ron smiled. "Good! As long as you're aware of your limitations, Harry."

Harry sighed inwardly in relief when the conversation had ended. He had thought, for a moment, that this would be when they confronted him about not joining the Order of the Phoenix, but he had been granted a reprieve, it seemed. He knew it would be sometime before Christmas, though.

The food exceeded Harry's expectations, and he ordered another two entrees to take home with him, hoping Draco liked his selections. He walked outside with his friends and took his leave before Apparating straight to the classroom. Once again, he was just a few minutes late, clocking in at 8:10 for the 8 o'clock class.

"So nice of you to join us, Mr. Potter," the witch interrupted her lecture.

"Sorry, Professor Zathmary." Harry smiled tightly. The stern witch disliked Harry, but at least she wasn't unreasonable.

"You will stay afterwards for fifteen minutes." Harry nodded. It was almost routine. He was late every Friday night. Every Friday night he stayed afterwards for fifteen minutes, and caught up on the notes he had missed, as well as enduring a five minute lecture on the importance of being prompt. Since he was on time for the other meeting sessions during the week, and was always prepared, Zathmary couldn't really do much more than that as far as punishment or penalty, for which Harry was thankful. He sat down quickly and drew out parchment, quill, and ink, ready to take notes on "Recent Developments in Spell Ownership and Royalty Law."

After the class came to an end, promptly at nine o'clock, Harry hurriedly copied the notes that he had missed from the beginning of class, nodded at the appropriate places during the ensuing lecture, and then Disapparated back to the Catapults' locker room to change clothes. He chucked the robe back in his locker with a simple cleansing smell - he hadn't sweated in it, so magic would be fine - and pulled on the slacks and long-sleeved polo shirt he had pulled on that morning, and worn to his daytime class as well. Sighing, Harry hefted his schoolbag one more time and Apparated home, directly from the locker room.

"Shit! Ow!" Harry's homecoming was not what he had expected. He normally Apparated into the open space in the living room - only this night, he found himself having an encounter with the furniture. "What the hell?"

Draco appeared out of the kitchen and flipped on the light, which allowed Harry to see that the entire living room had been rearranged. "Sorry, I forget that you Apparate there. I decided to moved the furniture around." He shrugged nonchalantly.

Harry scowled. "Well, thanks a lot. Here," he tossed the take-out boxes from Leviosa at his boyfriend. "It's from Leviosa. I'm going to go take a hot shower and then I have to study," he groused, brushing past the blonde.

"What, no kiss?" Draco pouted, a teasing note in his voice that Harry either didn't hear or chose to ignore.

"No," Harry replied, his voice hard. "My bloody ankle hurts, I've had a horrid day, and you're not making it any better."

"Oh, poor baby, want me to kiss it all better?" Draco said in a mocking tone.

Harry practically growled in response. "Shut it. If you've had time to rearrange the bloody furniture, I doubt your exactly stressed."

"Excuse me, I also went to the market. Those bloody Muggles really have no concept of reasonable pricing, do they?"

"Reasonable pricing?!? Bloody hell, Draco, where do you think you got the pounds to spend at the damn market!"

Draco frowned indignantly. "That's not my fault! You think I like being cooped up here all day every day?"

"No. No, of course not," Harry sighed, shoulders sagged somewhat in defeat, before he straighened up again. "But, Merlin, Draco, I'm exhausted! I can't... can't be your entertainment all the time."

Draco folded his arms angrily. "And where do you suggest I find said entertainment?"

"I don't know!" Harry threw his hands in the air. "You have work at the shop, and your courses at the College. Surely there's someone you could, you know, hang out with."

"You know, I would have thought you knew me better than to think I'd deign to 'hang out' with a Muggle," Draco replied, with a shake of his head.

"So now I don't even know you?!? Bloody hell, Drac, what do you want?"

"I want you to look at me when you come home! I want you to throw your homework aside for one night and have a decent, civilised conversation with me!"

Harry was taken aback for a moment before responding, desparation staining his tone. "Well, I want to sleep for once, and not worry about my grades, and the team, and all your Housemates that I'm busy working my arse off to protect, and... and..."

"Oh, Harry..." Draco moved toward Harry and unfolded his arms. "You silly, silly boy."

"Silly? Silly?!? I get grief from Flavius this morning, from Zithmary this evening, from Ron and Hermione at dinner, and then from you, I get silly?"

"Bloody hell, Harry, I can't imagine why anyone would be irritated with you..." Draco shook his head. "You just need to take a fucking break. You're wound so tight I'm surprised your shit doesn't turn into gold when you go to the bathroom."

"Thanks so much for that assessment, Malfoy. Now, if you'll excuse me," Harry spat out as he crossed to the study door, "I have actual work to do now." He slammed the door behind him.

Draco sneered in his lover's direction. He felt like screeching at the door, "Fuck you too, Potter!" or something equally appropriate. Then he turned on his heel and stalked back ino the kitchen. He banged the dishes loudly as he ate the food Harry had brought him, before cleaning up the kitchen and ensconcing himself in their bed. The light was shining out from under the study door when Draco went to sleep, still hurt and angry.

Harry was doing no better. He was attempting to finish his assignment for class on Monday, and revise all of his classes for the upcoming midterms. He would have to spend all day Sunday, most likely, taking care of the three new placements that Snape had given him. He played with the amulet around his neck as he read. He hadn't meant to explode at Draco, of course; he was just so frustrated with his day, and, ironically, having not seen Draco during it. He knew that Draco didn't enjoy living as a Muggle, but he was somewhat shocked at the level of vitrol his lover had displayed. Harry simply hadn't realised just how hard the enforced separation from all things magical was on Draco. He was just starting to think of what he could do to alleviate some of his frustration when the firetalk crackled.

"Hello? Harry?"

Harry looked up wearily, fingers still touching the amulet and playing with it. "Yes? Oh, hi Oliver."

"Hi, Harry. Listen, I've been thinking lately, about all these kids that have been disappearing, just like Draco did. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, now would you?"

"And why are you asking?" Harry asked guardly.

"Well," and Oliver looked abashed, "I should have offered sooner, but surely you need some help with it, don't you? You've got a rather full plate, and all I have is the team. What do you say?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Alright. Call over here Sunday morning and you can see how we place them - I have three current placements to take care of."

"Sunday morning? Will do. See you then, Harry."

"See you," Harry echoed. "Thanks, Oliver."

Just as silence descended on the study once more, the firetalk crackled again. "Harry Potter?"

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said with a sigh.

"Hi. I'm Alexis Odyss, from BMLE class? We were assigned as partners for the presentation next Thursday, and we haven't started."

Harry groaned. BMLE was Basic Magical Law Enforcement, a required class for the Magical Law course of study, and the professor was perpetually encouraging group projects. Harry rubbed his eyes and moved closer to the fire, certain it would be a long night. For all three projects so far he had been paired with witches, and the last two had each ended with him fighting off their advances. He didn't need another disaster that night.

"Hi, Alexis. I'm sorry about that, I completely forgot about the presentation. Our topic is the relationship between the Ministry and independently operating Aurors, correct?"

She beamed brightly. "Exactly. Now, my mum has a job in the Ministry and sent me some notes from a friend of hers, but we need an Auror's perspective still."

"My friend Ron's at the Auror Academy; I'll owl him and see if one of his instructors is a I.O. and willing to spare us a bit of parchment."

"An I.O.?"

"That's what Ron calls them, so I assume that's the shop talk, so to speak. I never heard Moody or Arabella say, though."

"Moody? Arabella?"

"Oh, sorry. Alastor Moody and Arabella Figg. Arabella's practically my godmother."

Alexis nodded. "Right. Okay, great, that covers content. Now, for presentation, I think we should both definitely wear..."

The conversation between the two continued for another thirty minutes, and then Harry sent off an owl to Ron at the Academy. After that, he returned his attention to revising, and continued late into the night.

Which is why he found himself, at 5:55 AM, trying to dry his parchments from the drool puddles he had made when he fell asleep at his desk. He groaned when he checked the time, and quietly slipped into their bedroom to change clothes. He bit his lip when he glanced at the sleeping man in their bed. He's so gorgeous, Harry thought, and he's right. He gave up everything for me. I have to try to make last night up to him - later. Then Harry grabbed a bagel and some pumpkin juice before Disapparating to the practise pitch.

Draco woke up some time later, and sleepily reached out to cuddle with his partner. When he encountered only empty air and linen, his eyes flew open and took in the bedroom - it didn't appear that Harry had slept in their bed the previous night. Draco felt small tears sting at his eyelids. They seldom truly fought as they had the night before, even though a casual observer would have thought otherwise, and when they did, it devastated Draco inside. He knew deep in his soul that he could never love anyone but Harry Potter, but what if Harry didn't feel the same way about him? There was nothing keeping Harry in the Muggle world, nothing but Draco. Andif Draco didn't measure up any longer...

Draco shook his head irritably. Dwelling on it would do no good. Much as he hated it, he would have to apologise, to make up for the night before. He checked the clock. He had to be at work in an hour; just enough time to work on the polyjuice potion and get ready for the day.

Draco was still preoccupied when he was about to leave for work, and didn't even think to look in the study, which would have made it immediately obvious as to where Harry had spent the preceding night. Instead, Draco was alternating between anger and fear inside. How dare Harry say those things to him? He stewed all throughout the day, even as he made plans for the evening.

Harry's performance on the pitch was, even in his own opinion, pitiful that day. He was preoccupied, tired, and full of worry. "Potter! You're supposed to be looking for the Snitch, not scanning the ground below you!" Harry groaned at the latest 'encouragement' from his coach. He knew he wasn't on top of his game, thank you very much, but he had so much to do, and he needed to figure out what do about the fight he had had with Draco the night before. He hadn't meant not to sleep in their bed, and he knew how that had to feel to Draco. He sighed, and luckily the Snitch appeared just a few feet in front of him. Harry caught it, ending the scrimmage, and therefore the morning practise session.

"Potter! We're going to Apparate into Diagon, go visit Hooters," one of the other male players said with a wink Harry didn't return. "Want to come with us?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I need to run by my flat for a bit. Thanks for the invitation, though." He waved and then Apparated - first adjusting his intended arrival spot to one that was clear of furniture.

He sighed as he moved into the kitchen and started to fix a grilled sandwich for himself. While it broiled, he straightened up the study. He wondered sometimes why Draco didn't seem to have as much homework to take care of, but he assumed that Draco had been quite truthful when he stated that he was essentially bilingual. Harry also didn't doubt that Draco cheated whenever he felt like it, and he couldn't quite summon up the righteous indigination that he felt he should, seeing as Draco wouldn't be staying in the Muggle world.

The oven buzzer sounded, and Harry retrieved his sandwich and poured himself a glass of milk. He smiled a trifle sadly. Despite his outburst the night before, he did appreciate Draco's seemingly trivial activities - like going to the market. He bought only the freshest things, and only organic. Apparently his courses and interactions at the college were only convincing him that Muggles were going to kill the planet, which of course merely added fuel to Draco's Muggle-hating fire. Harry shook his head and checked the time. Only an hour before practise would resume. He wanted to do something special for Draco, something that would be waiting when he got home from work. He smiled as an idea occurred to him, and he slipped into the bedroom for the last 45 minutes of his lunch break.

Draco was supremely irritated by the time his shift was over. He had been yelled at several times by customers at the tiny music shop, twice because he had never heard of their favorite bands - Nine Inch Nails, and Stone Temple Pilots. He threw up his hands. His family, of course, was familiar with Muggle music, the greats such as Bach and Beethoven and Mozart. This music that he was expected to like seemed harsh and coarse in comparison to both old Muggle music and current wizarding music. It irritated him, rubbed at him in precisely the wrong way, like so many Muggle things he was encountering on a daily basis. He sighed and sniffled slightly. He had to figure out what he was going to do for Harry, to make things right. He wasn't entirely at fault, but he was feeling desperate - almost panicky even. The only thing that occured to him was cooking dinner - Harry always did it, except for nights when he was gone, and then Draco usually had a sandwich or something else easy. But if he could make dinner for the two of them... well, perhaps that would help. And he'd finish the polyjuice potion, of course.

Harry was exhausted when he left the afternoon practise session. The second session of the day had consisted of large numbers of drills. For him, it meant two hours of sprint racing, and another two hours of dodging Bludgers. He lingered on the pitch, however, since he wanted to take a long shower without any grief from his teammates. Finally, after about ten minutes, he noticed a few leaving, and he went in, undressing slowly. He wandered to the showers and meticulously scrubbed himself clean. He cast a Drying Charm on his hair, and thanked Merlin that he had remembered to grab a change of clothes before leaving the flat at lunch. He smiled to himself as he pulled on the fine linen-wool blend grey slacks and the green silk shirt that was the same shade as his eyes. He knew Draco loved the shirt, and he would appreciate the gesture of being dressed in Slytherin colors.

"Hot date, Potter?"

"No, why?" The lies came automatically to his lips now. Harry Potter didn't date, wasn't seeing anyone, and definitely didn't even so much as think about the Slytherins that were disappearing steadily.

"You're dressed pretty spiffy."

"Oi, Davies, haven't you noticed? Harry's almost always spiffy looking. Got himself some taste, that boy does."

"Thanks, Patrick," Harry said with a small, rueful shake of the head. "I'll see you lot on Monday morning. G'night."

"G'night, Harry." Harry walked a small bit away from the locker room and the pitch before he Apparated home.

The first thing he noticed was that something was apparently burning. He stopped and sniffed. Burnt cheese was what it smelt like, but... why was there burnt cheese in the flat?

"Draco? Is... are you okay?"

Harry had to bit his lip at the picture that was presented to him a moment later. Draco came to the doorway of the kitchen, his hair disheveled, his shirt spotted and untucked, and a bandage wrapped neatly around one hand. He had a petulant, disappointed, and yet frustrated expression on his face. "Hi, Harry."

"Draco... what..."

"I was trying to cook."

"Oh." Harry tried to hide his smile. "Oh, love, come here." He opened his arms slightly and crossed the space between them, wrapping Draco in his arms. "I'm sorry," he murmured into the blonde's hair.

"Me too," was the quiet response. "I.. I was trying to cook dinner."

"Mmmm," Harry said in response. "Tell you what, let's just clean up and order some take-out, go into the bedroom to eat tonight." He smiled slightly. "I don't want to take a chance and fall asleep at the table, not after spending last night drooling in the study."

"That's where you were." Draco sounded relieved at the news. "When I woke up this morning and you weren't there..."

"Oh, Draco." Harry tilted his head and captured the other boy's lips with his. "I love you."

The reply was muffled. "I love you too." Draco pulled back. "We're both pulling apart at the seams."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Yes. But I have a few ideas that might help you - and that, indirectly at least, will help me." Harry waved his wand and quickly cleaned up the kitchen, healing Draco's burnt hand as well.

"Thank you," he whispered softly. "To the bedroom, then?"

Harry smiled, and suddenly remembered what he had spent his lunchtime doing. "After you, love."

Draco walked in front of him down the short hallway and then gasped when he opened the door to their bedroom. "Harry..."

"Shh. No words."

"Coming down, love?" Harry pressed his lips against Draco's forehead as he stirred.

"Hmm?" Draco responded lazily, drawing a smile from the other man.

"You are a great avoider, you know?"

"I pride myself on it." Draco's answering smile was large.

Harry bit his lip, but spoke sincerely. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening to you last night - or before that. I... had a few thoughts, but I want you to tell me a bit more about how you feel."

Draco bristled. "What do you want me to say? I already told you how I feel."

"I... I'm sorry, love, I know I haven't really been here lately." Harry cast his eyes downward, tracings patterns absentmindedly on the sheets. "I want to make you feel better, I want us to feel better."

"You make me feel better when you're here," Draco responded quietly.

Harry sighed, his insides turning, as they frequently did around his boyfriend, into a molten liquid. "And I feel better when I'm here, too. Draco, love, I'm breaking, though."

Draco let his finger trace along Harry's arm. "I know." He furrowed his brow, concern staining his features. "Why do you insist on doing it all, Harry?"

"Who else there to do it?" Harry asked rhetorically. "And you and I both know that I'd be bored if I was just playing Quidditch."

Draco sighed resignedly. "I know. I know you're the one to do it, and I'm proud of you." He paused, then continued, his voice sad. "Immensely."

"But you're bored and unhappy." Harry frowned. "I won't sacrifice you for any of it."

Draco looked away quickly. "Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because... because this is what you're supposed to be doing." He turned to face Harry again. "You're not supposed to be running around with me; you're supposed to be out there helping people, saving people. That's your life. I shouldn't stop you from doing what you're supposed to be doing."

"Draco, I wouldn't be doing half of this if it weren't for you. No, no, don't feel guilty, or obligated. But would I have seen what Dumbledore was doing without you? Would I even still be alive without you?"

Draco sighed. "I don't want to keep you from you're supposed to be doing. I just... I get a bit selfish is all."

Harry cracked a grin then, and his voice was teasing when he spoke. "You? Draco Malfoy, selfish? Never." Then he sobered slightly. "I do have one bit of good news - I may have found someone to help with the 'disappearances'."

Draco tried to hid the elation in his eyes but Harry saw it anyway as he began to speak. "Oh really? Who?"

"Oliver. He called me up on the firetalk last night, and he's coming around tomorrow."

"Oliver? Oliver Wood? The crazy Quidditch fanatic, helping you with this? I'd never have guessed..."

"Me neither, to be honest." Harry's voice held amusement once more. "If he's half as good at organising this as Quidditch practises though, I'll be forever grateful."

"Well, at least you're getting some help. I still think you've got too many things going on at once."

"I know, I know. Everyone thinks that, even those that don't know half of it." Harry sighed. "My courseload will be lighter from now on. Speaking of courses, though..."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Well," Harry began slowly, "I had a thought. And I'll have to check it with the professors of course, but..."

"What?" Draco asked excitedly, hoping beyond hope that his boyfriend would be dropping a course.

"How would you like to anonymously complete the same courses I'm taking? Granted, you couldn't attend class, but you already help me out with my homework, and I could turn in your work and tests in for you and..."

"Whoa, Harry, calm down. What exactly are you saying?"

"You don't have to, I mean, but I thought... since you're bored... and you're good at it... you could do the Magical Law program as well. Just anonymously. Because I know that the French isn't very challenging.

Draco grinned mischievously. "You mean you want me to do your homework."

"Bugger! Drraa-co!"

"What?" he asked innocently, earning a half-heared glare. He smiled then, and shook his head. "What's in it for me?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "In a few years, certification. For right now, something interesting to do, and the occasional chance to enter the wizarding world, even if it would be via invisibility cloak."

"Oh." Draco frowned cutely. "I was hoping for something else." He ran his hand over Harry's hips.

Harry followed the progression of Draco's hands with his eyes. "Again, love?"

Draco kissed his lover quickly. "Only if we can do it every night from the day I start taking your classes for you." He grinned impudently.

"Draco, you are a nut." He rolled his eyes, then stopped, as a frown creased his forehead. "You mean we haven't been?"

Draco stared, unblinking, face showing increduility. "No. We haven't. We haven't done it in..." He paused, thinking. "Five days. And before that it had been a week." He continued to stare at Harry. "You didn't notice."

"Ummm..." Harry rapidly tried to collect his thoughts; suddenly things seemed much worse that he had realised. "Oh, god, Draco, what's happening to me?"

Draco remained silent, searching Harry's eyes. He was hurt and offended, but felt truly bad for his boyfriend as well. He opened his mouth twice, and each time closed it without making a sound. He finally settled for stroking Harry's forearm lightly and comfortingly with his fingers, unsure what else to do or say.

Harry, in turn, closed his eyes briefly, and took several deep breaths, before acting. "So sorry, Draco, so sorry..." He pulled the other boy into his armss and held him tightly. "You're right, everyone was right... I'll let Oliver take over some of the work and I'll tell Windsor that I just can't make every practice... if he lets me go, so be it..."

"Don't be silly. You can't give up everything. Just... I love you, and I don't want to lose you to your workload." Draco's voice was tinged with desperation, and wavered very slightly.

"Draco, even I am losing me to my workload."

The desperation in Draco's voice was overpowering then. "Then why don't you stop being such a masochist and give yourself a break, love?"

"I... I don't know how, Draco."

Draco spluttered, gripping Harry's arm tightly. "You just stop. Tell people you need a few days off. Ask someone in your classes to take notes for you. Just... give yourself a break." When he finished speaking, he grabbed Harry's lips with his own forcefully, kissing him hungrily, desperately, pleadingly.

Harry sighed as they pulled apart moments later. "All right. All right, love. Oliver will come tomorrow, and I will get rid of some of that, and I will get in touch with my professors and Windsor, and take Monday and Tuesday off.

Draco tried to hide the beaming smile that threatened to spread across his face but failed miserably. "You, Harry Potter, are a gorgeous, gorgeous man who has finally come to his senses."

Harry grinned cutely before giving up and kissing the other boy. "Finally?"

"Yes, finally, you maddening masochist." He trailed kisses up Harry's neck.

Harry bit his lip. "How long have you been stewing over all this?" he asked worriedly.

"How long have you been falling asleep on your desk in the study?"

"Er... I thought last night was the first time..."

Draco blinked, and looked Harry straigh in the eyes. "You honestly don't know how many time I have dragged you to the bed in a sleepy haze, do you?"

"Um... " Harry said sheepishly, "no."

Draco kissed his briefly. "I forgive your ignorance, Harry, but only because it makes you look so darn appealling."

"Wait... how many times have you? How long?"

"Well, it's not every night, I'll give you that, but I've been having to do it for the better part of... oh, a month or more now."

Harry winced. "Why didn't you tell me, Draco?"

His boyfriend smiled faintly. "Because you looked so cute with that little puddle of drool collecting on your textbook."

"Eww!" Harry sprung into action, tickling Draco ferociously, and landing neatly on top of him, holding him to the mattress.

Draco giggled hysterically. "You... gasp... know I hate to be tickled!"

Harry grinned devilishly. "Yes, I do."

"Ooh..." Draco raised an eyebrow. "A masochist and a sadist."

"You would know, love."

One month later, Harry was feeling much lighter as he head towards his usual Friday evening dinner. He had been able to hand over many of the smaller tasks to Oliver, Windsor had allowed him to begin missing one practise a week, and he was understanding his coursework better now that he had Draco to discuss it with. Not only that, but the three days he had taken off had allowed him to catch up on sleep, schoolwork, and sex. He grinned to himself as he walked down Diagon Alley. Draco certainly couldn't complain about the frequency those three days, Harry thought, or since then, either! He swung his school bag absently over his shoulder and reflected that he didn't even mind going to JicamaJacket that evening.

His good mood, however, evaporated soon after he arrived at the restaurant.

"I'm with the Weasley-Granger party," Harry smiled pleasantly as he spoke to the host. "I'm pretty sure they're already here."

"Ah, yes, party of five." The man smiled. "Right this way."

Party of five? What's going on? Still, Harry just shrugged it off, thinking perhaps the twins had come along. He dropped into the spare seat heavily and smiled, eyes barely registering his surprise at seeing his godfather and Remus there as well.

"Hi Hermione, Ron. Nice to see you, Sirius, Remus." He grinned. "What's the occasion?" Then he studied their faces. Oh, no. Not tonight. They had all found out about the Order of the Phoenix, he could see it in their faces.

No spoke at first, until finally Hermione opened her mouth. "You refused to join the Order?" It was phrased as a question, like she didn't believe Dumbledore, or didn't want to believe him.

Harry sighed, annoyed. "Yes. I hardly think it's anyone's business, though."

"Of course it's our business!" Sirius spoke up. "Why would you refuse to join the Order? We're worried about you? Are you under Imperius? Being threatened?"

Harry fought the urge to laugh out loud. They truly couldn't comprehend that Dumbledore's way wasn't the only way? "No, Sirius, calm down. I'm not under Imperius or being threatened. Not to mention I would have had to be under Imperius for quite awhile now. I refused to join at the end of sixth year."

"Sixth year?" Ron's eyes were bugging out. "Why, Harry? What's going on?"

Harry blew out a deep breath and rolled his eyes slightly. "Dumbledore offered me membership. I declined. He told me I was going to become an Auror and go to camp that summer. I declined again." Harry shrugged. "There are more ways to defeat Voldemort than Dumbledore's. And there are other political agendas attached to that Order, and I don't necessarily agree with those."

Ron blinked dumbly, and Hermione's mouth gaped open. Harry flicked his gaze towards the other pair, and saw Remus place a restraining hand on the obviously about to explode Sirius.

"Harry," Remus began, "you have to understand we're just quite startled. We always had assumed you'd be working with us in the Order. I admit, we were surprised when you announced you would be attending Stonehenge as well." He frowned. "Really, is it such a big thing, to assist those who have given you so much?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Those who have given me so much?" he repeated slowly, each word laced with anger and no small amount of venom. "What exactly would that be? The man who 'gave' me to my loving family to be tortured?"

"Harry," Hermione lectured, "you know that it was safest for you to be with blood relati-"

"No, it wasn't," Harry interrupted her ruthlessly. "Voldemort was gone; there was no apparent threat for the first 13 years of incarciration. I examined the wards last summer, and I've done some research as well. That claim of blood is a lie. There's nothing inherent about those wards that's dependent on having of my relatives be there. So, even if there had been a threat, I would have been safer with a non-related wizarding family." Harry smiled grimly. "So, then, why was I there?"

There was silence at the table then, as the wait-elf approached and took their orders. Harry was last to order. He glanced distastefully at the menu. "A grilled chicken breast, steamed vegetables, and a breadstick, please. With a glass of charrdonay." He closed the menu with a snap, and saw the other four staring at him again. "What now?" he asked, irritated.

"That's not on the menu, Harry," Ron said.

"I'm well aware of that," Harry replied waspishly. "But it's what I wanted, and they have all the components in various meals. It shouldn't be too difficult."

"Nevermind that, I want to know when you started drinking wine," Sirius demanded.

That caused giggles from all three of the younger occupants of the table. "Oh, Sirius," Hermione gasped. "Didn't you notice what Ron and I ordered?"

The animagus narrowed his eyes, then snorted. "Well, then, if that's how it is..." He frowned. "That still doesn't change the fact, Harry, that you..."

"That I'm not doing exactly what everyone else wants."

"Well, yes!" Sirius said stridently. "And this nonsense about the wards not being dependent on your relatives! You really think you know more about that than Albus?"

Harry couldn't help but smirk. "I don't think, Sirius, I know I do. I've looked in every book on the subject in the Hogwarts library, the Stonehenge library, and the library here in the Alley, as well as several books available by inter-library loan with the Continent. So, yes, I'm fairly confident in my assessment."

"So what's your theory, then?" Ron shot back. "Why else would he have done it? And what was wrong with being an Auror? Not good enough for you?"

Harry shook his head disbelievingly. "Nothing to do with good enough, Ron. It's just not what I want to do." He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. "I don't know really know why. Perhaps to make me grateful for Hogwarts and his guidance? I doubt I'll ever know. I do know that I'm confident enough in myself to make my own choices and not follow blindly behind the Headmaster, ignoring everything else that's going on around me!" He smirked at the expressions on their faces. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot, all of you are members of his Order, aren't you? I hope I didn't hurt your feelings." He leaned back then, and took a sip of his wine that had just arrived. "God, I wish I didn't have to go to class tonight."

Hermione leapt on the opportunity to steer the discussion in a different direction. "How are classes, then? Are you finding that you have more time now?"

"Yes," Harry replied pleasantly, or at least as close to pleasant as he could manage. "Things are going better, thank you."

Silence reigned again after that, as their meals were brought. Harry examined the huge slab of chicken in front of him in astonishment and carefully cut it in half before eating his meal. Draco would appreciate getting some food cooked by someone other than Harry and the new corner cafe, which hadn't quite worked out how to preheat their ovens just yet. The others looked at him oddly, but said nothing as he proceed to eat quickly and neatly, checking his watch as he finished.

"Excellent," he stated with a small smile. "For once, I'm not going to be late to Zathmary's class. She won't know which was is up if I'm actually on time on Friday night." He stood, wrapping the chicken breast in a hastily conjured box before stuffing it into his school bag. "I'll see you next week, Ron, Hermione. Sirius, Remus, I'll see you later. Good bye."

With that, he stood up and left the restaurant, sighing in relief as he escaped into the darkened streets. He shook his head irritably; he hadn't expected things to go well, and he didn't expect that the evening's conversation would be the end of it. He Disapparated quickly when he heard Ron's strident voice floating through the door of the restaurant.

"How was your day?" Draco's voice greeted him just seconds before his arms wrapped around Harry, turning the dark-haired boy to face him.

Harry smiled, then grimaced. "I've had better."

"Oh? Rough practise? Class tough?"

"No, no. Dinner. I showed up, expecting just Ron and Hermione. Instead I got the Inquisition, complete with Remus and Sirius."

"The Order?"

"Yes." Harry didn't say anymore.

"I suppose they said you owed it to the Order to join it, and that they were disappointed, appalled, concerned, et cetera?"

"That pretty much sums it up, yes."

Draco frowned, but said nothing, choosing instead just to hold the other boy. "I love you," he said finally.

"I love you too." Harry returned the smile and followed Draco into the kitchen. "Hot chocolate?" he asked, gesturing at the steaming mugs on the table.

Draco nodded and smiled a bit sheepishly. "It's getting so much colder now, and I know you've been running around all day."

"Thank you," Harry said gratefully, holding one of the over-large mugs in both hands and letting the steam warm his lips and nose. Draco sat opposite him, sipping out of his own mug, and slipped his socked feet up Harry's trouser leg, earning him a small smile.

"Do you want to talk about them?" Draco finally offered.

"No," Harry said with a shake of his head. "I doubt it's all over yet, so we might as well wait and see what happens next."

What happened next was a series of attacks by the Death Eaters on unfortified wizarding areas, especially those nearest to Muggle towns and cities. Harry helped with the aftermath on the largest ones, as he had at the attack in the summer, and he passed along anything useful from his dreams, but otherwise, he ignored the headlines, ignored the war. This didn't garner him any better feelings from his two best friends, and their Friday afternoon dinners grew more and more strained.

It was nearing the end of November before anything further was said to Harry about the Order, however. He was lying on the couch in the living room, Draco sitting at the other end, both of them working on homework on a lazy Sunday afternoon when there were four loud thumps, in quick succession, from the study. Harry looked up, alarmed, and exchanged glances with Draco. "What was that?"

The blonde shrugged. "I don't know. It almost sounded like someone was trying to use the fireplace for Floo instead of firetalking."

Harry leapt to his feet with a groan, shoving his feet into the shearling-lined slippers that had been an early Yule present from Draco, and headed towards the hall. "They probably didn't believe me when I said that I didn't have Floo access, period..." he grumbled, angry at his restful afternoon being disturbed.

He closed the door to the study quickly and cast a concealing charm before speaking towards the fireplace. "I don't have Floo access," he called loudly.

"We really don't care," Hermione's acerbic voice replied. "We're giving you Floo access. We're concerned, and we feel that we need to check your living conditions."

Harry's eyes widened, then flared with anger. "And what gives you the bloody right to question my decisions, exactly, Hermione?"

"You have to admit, Harry, you've been acting suspicious lately," Ron's voice chimed in, and Harry heard Sirius and Remus muttering an incantation. Swearing, Harry turned to the door and stuck his head out, calling to Draco.

"Reinforce this door, then you'd better get out. I'll reinforce it magically." He pulled his head back in after hearing Draco's assent, and he cast several spells over the door, sealing it so that only he could enter or leave the room. He cast an additional anti-Apparition charm, with the addition that he could Apparate himself. He had just completed his preparations and slid his wand back into his pocket when four figures burst through the fireplace and landed at his feet. Harry inspected the bricks that had fallen out with them, and hefted one in his hand. "I'll be sure to send each of you your share of the bill for repairs," he said mildly.

Ron snorted, and Sirius laughed, until Harry glanced at them quizzically. "Why are you laughing? I'd wager the bill will be rather high." He paused. "Now, you have approximately five minutes to convince me not to call the Ministry about the charges pending against you. I'd imagine breaking and entering, as well as unlawful Floo creation, would start you off quite nicely." He ground his teeth. Why, oh why, did they do this?

"Now, Harry," Remus began, his tone soothing, "let's not be hasty. We're simply concerned, is all."

Harry shook his head. "Never once has it occurred to any of you four that perhaps it could be dangerous to have Floo access? What'd you yell, 'Harry Potter's flat?' I think that Voldemort would only be too happy to have such access, don't you?"

Sirius blanched and raced towards the fireplace, frantically blocking access, and Hermione sat down heavily in Harry's desk chair, her face pale. "Oops," Ron said.

Harry waited until Sirius turned away before he continued. "Then there's the issue that I'm living in a Muggle city, Muggle flat, have Muggle neighbors, et cetera. What if I had someone here, a Muggle? How would I explain things to them then?"

There was utter silence.

"Now. I can tell that none of you are going to be satisified until I do this, so feel free to scan me for the presence of any Dark spells. Dark spells only," he stressed, as the four drew their wands and advanced towards him. Harry stood very still, torn between continued anger and amusement at their single-mindedness and devotion to Dumbledore. He saw the warning flicker in Remus's and reached out to grab his wand. "No, Remus."

The werewolf smiled sheepishly. "I was just..."

"... going to look for magic in the room," Harry finished, and his other hand reached out towards Hermione, as her wand stopped for a moment. "And no scanning me for other magic, Hemione."

Hermione scowled. "What would it hurt?"

"Do you want me to scan you to see exactly what you've been doing for the past week?"

"No!" Hermione answered immediately.

Harry smirked. "But you don't have anything to hide?" he asked innocently.

Hermione pursed her lips but nodded, conceding the point. When each of the four had concluded their investigations, Harry smiled tightly. "Very well, then. I was in the middle of studying, and I had a nice warm spot on the couch, so if you wouldn't mind leaving."

Sirius shook his head vigorously. "No. I'm not leaving until I've seen the rest of the flat."

"I'm afraid that will be impossible," Harry said flatly. "For many reasons, but the foremost of which being that you will look for clues as to what city I'm in. And I won't take that chance."

Sirius grimaced, and the other reluctantly nodded their assent with Harry's words. "I'll be writing you a long letter, then," Hemione said as she prepared to leave. "This still certainly doesn't explain your decision not to join the Order."

Ron nodded. "And I'll be adding to that letter as well, you can count on it," he said stoutly, and Harry bit back a chuckle as the pair Disapparated. He had managed to discreetly remove the charm with just seconds to spare. Then he turned to the two older wizards and waited.

No one spoke for a long moment, then Remus opened his mouth. "I'm sorry that we, effectively, forced our way into your flat. We should have had more trust in you."

Sirius cast his eyes downwards for a long moment before he looked up. "I'm still concerned about why you didn't join the Order, though I suppose everyone's entitled to a bit of adolescent rebellion. Why yours had to be so high-stakes, I don't know." He laughed nervously.

Harry sighed, exasperated. "It wasn't teenage rebellion, Sirius. It was a carefully considered decision based on experience, knowledge, and my own opinions. Please at least respect my ability to make my own decisions even if I don't always make the same decisions that you would like for me to make."

Sirius only nodded before they both left, and Harry wearily removed the spells on the door and tried to open the door, only to find a dresser wedged behind it. He grinned and used magic to levitate it back to the bedroom before returning to the living room and curling up on the couch to wait for Draco to return. Once he came back, the two talked for a bit about the upcoming Yule and what each wanted in terms of gifts before finishing their work and sharing a cup of hot chocolate just past ten o'clock. Afterwards, they slipped into their bedroom, shivering, until Harry cast a Warming Charm.

"That should come in handy this winter," Harry said with a smile, and Draco nodded his agreement as the both tumbled into bed.

"What do you have tomorrow, love?"

"No practise," Harry replied with a smile. "But I thought I'd go down into Diagon and do a bit of shopping."

Draco smiled lazily. "Horribly mundane, aren't we?"

Harry nodded. "I prefer it that way."