Paradigm Chapter Seven
Feb. 27th, 2009 11:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesDid you think we forgot about Rentboy Draco while being sidetracked by pretty blond twins...?
Harry tiptoed into the bedroom, trying not to wake Draco. He was bone tired and it took him several tries to unbutton his Auror robes and shrug them off. He did not even bother to throw them over a nearby chair. Winky would deal with them.
He slipped into the bed covers and draped an arm around Draco, only to find the blond stiff as a board and obviously awake.
“Hey,” Harry said quietly.
“Hey,” Draco snapped. “What a lovely greeting.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Asleep. What a concept, when I’ve been awake for hours wondering where the fuck you were, not knowing if you were alive or dead, lying in a bloody ditch somewhere!” Draco jerked away from Harry and moved far across the bed, too far for Harry to reach, likely perching on the very edge.
“I… I wanted to send you a message.”
“I’m certain you did, Potter. You likely tried very hard. Why bother? I’m just your whore, after all. You don’t owe me anything. You can stay out as long as you like. You can go out and fuck whomever you please. I don’t care in the slightest.”
For all that Draco’s tone was flippant, Harry could hear the anguish beneath the words, although the very idea was astonishing. Could it be true that Draco actually cared?
“I’m sorry,” Harry assured him. “I was sent on an unexpected stakeout. It was only supposed to take a couple of hours, but the bloody man wouldn’t move! It grew later and later and I wasn’t allowed to send a Patronus—it would have tipped off Rogers in an instant. Of course there were no owls. I didn’t know how to reach you!”
“Whatever, Potter,” Draco snarled.
Harry moved across the bed and put his arm around Draco to draw him back against him, feeling a curious sense of elation that Draco might actually have been worried about him. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. What would you like?”
As he hoped, the promise of a boon swayed the blond, who slowly relaxed in his arms. “You were really on a case?”
“I swear it,” Harry promised.
“And it was dangerous?”
“Very dangerous. I might have died.”
Draco snorted, but Harry could practically feel the thaw beneath his skin. “Died. Really?” he asked dryly.
“It could happen!” Harry protested and Draco actually laughed.
He turned around and moved into Harry’s embrace. “You said something about making it up to me?”
Harry smiled and held the blond tightly. At that moment he didn’t care if it cost him every Galleon in his Gringott’s account to buy Draco’s forgiveness.
The next day he presented Draco with a small silver mirror, barely large enough to fit in his palm. It matched one that Harry kept.
“What is this?” Draco asked dubiously.
“You will be able to see me whenever you want,” Harry said. “It doesn’t allow two-way communication, but I will feel it warm in my pocket. When I pull it out, you will see me and I’ll be able to show you where I am if I’m ever late.”
Draco frowned. “It works both ways?” he asked.
“I won’t use mine,” Harry promised. “Unless you call me with yours. Besides, you can always ignore it.”
Draco sneered. “You’re an idiot. What if this falls into the wrong hands?”
“I trust you,” Harry said simply.
Draco glared at him and then rolled his eyes as he muttered idiot once more, but he tucked the mirror away and Harry thought he saw a softening of Draco’s beautiful features. Harry grinned wickedly and Draco sniffed. “Oh, you think a stupid present and some nice words will sway me into letting you shag me, is that it?”
“Yes,” Harry said hopefully.
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Draco advised.
Harry rounded the table and pulled the blond into his arms before shoving him up against the nearest immobile object, which happened to be a mahogany credenza. Several dishes on its top rattled in protest. “Is this hard enough for you?” he asked as he pressed his erection into Draco’s groin.
“It’s a start,” Draco said breathily and reached for him.
~~ x ~~
Draco smiled at his mother, who looked better than she had in years. Draco suspected she had found a new man in Paris, although she had not mentioned anyone by name. There was something in her manner that was telling, a confidence she had lost during the darkness of the past few years. Draco had never thought to see it return and for that he was almost ridiculously thankful to Harry, even though he would never mention it to the Auror. It was ironic, really, that the Chosen One saved people even when he tried to be selfish.
“Something has happened to you, Draco,” his mother said suddenly.
He smiled at her warily. “What do you mean?”
“You seem… better now. I haven’t seen you so relaxed in months and you look amazing. I feared for your health, but now…”
Draco nearly laughed. She had been worried about him? What a pair they were. Draco shrugged. “I feel better now. And yes, something has happened, but I’m not quite ready to talk about it.”
“Not even to your mother?”
“Are you ready to tell me your secret?” he countered. If she had been the blushing type, Draco swore she would have, but instead she merely picked up her water glass and took a drink. He chuckled. “I thought not.”
“I might have met someone,” she admitted.
Draco ignored the stab of fear he felt at her words. It was one thing to suspect, but quite another to know that a potential predator was stalking his mother. He frowned. “You will be careful?”
“Draco,” she admonished. “I’m not completely helpless and I’m not stupid.”
Oddly, the fire in her words made him feel more at ease, and strangely proud. He remembered how she had been before the war—no one would have dared to cross her. Perhaps she had not changed all that much, after all. He snorted anyway, refusing to concede.
“What about you? You won’t get hurt, will you?” she asked quietly.
Draco mimicked her action by taking a drink from his own glass. He thought about Harry and the blood seemed to quicken in his veins. It had only been six weeks, but the thought of eventually leaving 12 Grimmauld Place made his stomach clench. Hurt? Oh yes, Draco could almost guarantee that he would be hurt. He would just have to locate the strength to withstand it; after all, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“I’ll be fine, Mother.”
“We both will, Draco.”
For the first time, he actually believed it.
~~ x ~~
Harry could tell Draco was getting restless. The house was nearly finished and it looked incredible, but Draco’s only excursions outside were his limited shopping trips and his visits to Narcissa. Sometimes he wondered what had happened to Draco’s friends—Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Goyle. He never mentioned them and never seemed to spend any time with them. Harry still spent Friday evenings with Ron and Hermoine, although lately he had been struck by the bizarre urge to bring Draco along. Only the knowledge that all three of them would be against it stayed Harry from bringing it up. Hermione might be understanding. Ron and Draco? Never.
Draco sighed, looking out at the bedraggled Muggle garden. Harry smiled. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?”
Draco turned and glared at him. “Dressed? Usually you are trying to get me undressed.”
“I’ll save that for later and thank you for giving me something to look forward to,” Harry replied. He furrowed his brow. “Did I not mention that I’m taking you to dinner tonight?”
Silver eyes flashed. “No you did not.”
Harry tugged at his forelock. “I could swear I did. Silly me. If you would rather not go…”
“I didn’t say that,” Draco said quickly. “Where are we going?”
“Scotland.”
Draco sneered. “Scotland? Are you taking me to some pub where they serve mutton sandwiches? Shall I wear a kilt?”
The thought of Draco in a kilt definitely did not have the effect Draco likely intended. Harry’s mouth went dry. “Probably not, but will you wear one when we get back?”
Draco blushed much to Harry’s delight. “You are a pervert, Potter.”
“Only for ye, darlin’,” Harry said with a bad Scottish accent. Draco sent a mild Stinging Hex his way. “Watch it, you, or I’ll leave you here and hook up with some fit Scottish bloke.”
Draco wrinkled his nose. “They all smell of sheep, those Scots. You’d be crawling back here before the night was up, begging me to take you back.”
Harry was ready to start begging now. “Just go get dressed. And no, it’s not a lowly pub. It’s fancy enough for you.”
“We’ll see,” Draco said snobbishly, but he went out, calling behind him, “You’re not wearing that, are you?”
Harry laughed, because Draco said those words every time Harry tried to leave the house, no matter what he wore.
Draco looked stunning, as usual, when he finally appeared in robes that seemed white at first glance. It was only when he moved closer that the colour was evident--a pale blue-grey that resembled a waterfall by the way it moved with the light. Harry had taken extra time with his own clothing, even though he knew he would never measure up to the effortless elegance of his escort.
Harry tugged at the collar of his wine-coloured dress robes, thinking the salesgirl at the shop must have been myopic when she had suggested the colour for him. He should have stayed with something that looked mildly decent, like black.
For once, however, Draco made no disparaging remarks when he looked Harry up and down. For a moment, Harry even felt like a canapé, especially when Draco purred, "Very nice, Harry." He wondered how important a night out could be when weighed against the option of having spectacular sex in the foyer.
The fact that Draco's stunning good looks deserved an audience cooled Harry's libido, at least long enough for him to offer Draco his arm. "Shall we?"
The restaurant in Edinburgh was set atop the Museum of Scotland and featured a spectacular view of the city. Draco said nothing, which meant Harry had managed to impress him somewhat, especially after they were seated in a semi-private area with a lovely view and comfortable leather seats.
Harry ordered a bottle of wine, trying to appear suave. In truth, he had practically memorized their wine list over the past week, which included extensive research into what made a decent bottle of wine and what would be considered shite by the patrician blond. Draco smirked at him in amusement, causing Harry to flush, but he was silent, giving Harry mute approval of his selection. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good.
Dinner was spectacular, from the seared pigeon breast and cauliflower soup to the butternut and pancetta risotto. "It's good," Draco admitted and Harry beamed at what amounted to high praise from the blond.
Draco ordered caramel-poached pears with praline mousse for dessert while Harry settled on a light mango custard with strawberries. He set his spoon aside after eating half the dessert. He looked across the table and dredged up his courage. “Draco, I want to ask you something.”
The blond’s expression turned positively panicked for a moment, until he schooled his features back into his usual laissez faire mask. Harry knew him well enough by now that he could see the tension in the set of his jaw and the barely perceptible movement of Draco’s fingers upon the tablecloth. “You do not need my permission to ask a question,” he said blandly.
Harry smiled and reached across the table to touch the long fingers, tightening when Draco tried to pull away. He refused to let go until Draco relaxed, and then he merely loosed his grip and made tiny circles on the back of Draco’s hand with his thumb.
“All right,” Harry said. "Here it is. The Ministry is having a gala of some sort--I can't recall the bloody occasion. Anyway, it's one of those things where everyone has to dress up and mingle and pretend to have a good time. And dance. That sort of thing."
Draco's mask became even more unreadable. "Who do you plan to take to this... thing, Potter?"
Harry nearly winced. Draco only called him Potter these days when he was upset or being sarcastic.
"Is it the Weasley bint? I know she's never gotten over you. Does she join you on your Friday evening meals when you desert me each week? I've often wondered. Do you plan to get back together with her?"
Harry blinked at him, completely thrown by the question. Ginny? Harry hadn't seen her in... how long? Months, surely. Did Draco not know Ginny had moved to Wales? And why did his tone sound so bitter?
"No. No, Draco, of course not. Ginny is... well, it's you, actually. I want to take you. Will you be my date?"
Draco stared at him for so long that Harry began to fear he had been turned to stone. He glanced around to see who might have cast a hex. Finally, Draco shook off his stasis. "You've gone completely mad. What happened? Imperius Curse? Ex -Death Eater finally caught up with you?"
Harry forced a smile. "No. You see, it's a masquerade."
Draco massaged his temple with the hand not trapped by Harry. "Potter. I don't care if it's a masquerade. I don’t care if everyone comes dressed as pumpkins. Everyone will know it's you. It will be blatantly obvious. And you're still a man. You're the Super Auror. The Hero. The Chosen One. The Slayer of Voldemort does not attend public functions in the company of a man."
Harry set his jaw adamantly. "He does now."
Draco gaped at him. "Are you seriously telling me you plan to expose your... preferences at such a public setting?"
Harry nodded.
"Why?" Draco demanded. "You'll be eviscerated!"
Harry shrugged. "I'll be eviscerated, anyway. At least this way it will be over in one fell swoop. Completely public."
“It will not be over in one fell swoop. It will never be over. You will be hounded eternally.”
“Are you saying you won’t come with me?”
“What if I’m recognized? It’s bad enough that you plan to expose yourself—in a manner of speaking—but with a former Death Eater? You’ll be worse than eviscerated. You’ll be a pariah.”
Harry smiled at the very idea of the wizarding world turning its back on him just because he preferred blokes. He had saved them all from years, possibly decades, of bloody war. The least they could do was allow him to live his life as he saw fit. And if they did declare him outcast… What of it? Harry could live among Muggles.
He wrinkled his nose at the thought and Draco heaved a sigh. “Thank Merlin, you’ve reconsidered. Go find some willing girl and have her escort you. Just not that Weasley bint, if you don’t mind. That red hair and those spots would clash horribly with the Gryffindor-coloured dress robes you no doubt plan to purchase.”
“I’ve not reconsidered. My mind is made up about this, Draco. If you won’t come with me, I’ll… I’ll just ask some other bloke.”
Draco’s glare could have frozen the custard. “What other bloke?” he gritted.
“I don’t know!” Harry said. “I’m certain there is someone out there willing to—”
“Willing to be gay for the Great Potter?” Draco sneered.
Harry threw his napkin on the table and got to his feet. “Never mind,” he growled. “I suppose it was a stupid idea.”
The waiter was instantly at Harry’s side, concerned. Harry assured him that the food and service had been spectacular. He paid and left a generous tip before stalking outside to await Draco in the area reserved for Apparition. The Tower was a Muggle restaurant as well as a wizarding one. Heavy Disillusionment Charms prevented the Muggles from seeing anything out of the ordinary, but appearing and disappearing needed to be kept under concealment.
Draco joined him after a moment and Harry took his arm and Disapparated them home. Once there, Harry marched upstairs to change clothes. He should have expected Draco’s reaction. In actuality, everything he had said made perfect sense and it had to have been quite a shock to him. Harry had been thinking about it for days, so he’d had time to adjust.
He hung his clothing in the wardrobe and paused with his hand on the wooden door. Draco had replaced much of the furniture in the room. The entire house had benefited from his presence. Hell, Harry’s entire life had changed because of Draco. He had no right to ask more of him than he… paid for. Harry’s shoulders sagged. Sometimes he forgot that their relationship was nothing more than that of rentboy and client. At times it seemed like so much more.
He felt Draco enter the room and then heard him approach. A pale hand reached out and touched Harry’s shoulder. He gave in to the pressure and turned to face Draco, who put his fingers beneath Harry’s chin and tilted his head until their eyes met. Draco sighed. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll come.”
Harry tried to breathe normally. “You will?”
Draco nodded. “But I had better have a damned good costume. I refuse to be labelled as the cause of your unnatural predilection.”
“It’s not unnatural!” Harry protested.
“They will say it is. And they will blame me.”
“Well, I don’t care what they say.” Harry was adamant. “But you’re right. I won’t bring anything down on your head. You’ve been through enough.”
Draco was still for a moment. “You sound as if you believe that.”
“Of course I believe it!”
Draco enfolded Harry in a sudden embrace and Harry couldn’t help it, he melted, resting his chin on Draco’s shoulder and holding him tightly. The bloody Ministry and the rest of the damned world seemed far away and unimportant.
“Merlin, what am I going to do with you?” Draco muttered.
“I can think of a few things,” Harry quipped.
Draco sighed and pulled him toward the bed where he thought of quite a few things on his own.
Chapter Eight
Harry tiptoed into the bedroom, trying not to wake Draco. He was bone tired and it took him several tries to unbutton his Auror robes and shrug them off. He did not even bother to throw them over a nearby chair. Winky would deal with them.
He slipped into the bed covers and draped an arm around Draco, only to find the blond stiff as a board and obviously awake.
“Hey,” Harry said quietly.
“Hey,” Draco snapped. “What a lovely greeting.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Asleep. What a concept, when I’ve been awake for hours wondering where the fuck you were, not knowing if you were alive or dead, lying in a bloody ditch somewhere!” Draco jerked away from Harry and moved far across the bed, too far for Harry to reach, likely perching on the very edge.
“I… I wanted to send you a message.”
“I’m certain you did, Potter. You likely tried very hard. Why bother? I’m just your whore, after all. You don’t owe me anything. You can stay out as long as you like. You can go out and fuck whomever you please. I don’t care in the slightest.”
For all that Draco’s tone was flippant, Harry could hear the anguish beneath the words, although the very idea was astonishing. Could it be true that Draco actually cared?
“I’m sorry,” Harry assured him. “I was sent on an unexpected stakeout. It was only supposed to take a couple of hours, but the bloody man wouldn’t move! It grew later and later and I wasn’t allowed to send a Patronus—it would have tipped off Rogers in an instant. Of course there were no owls. I didn’t know how to reach you!”
“Whatever, Potter,” Draco snarled.
Harry moved across the bed and put his arm around Draco to draw him back against him, feeling a curious sense of elation that Draco might actually have been worried about him. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. What would you like?”
As he hoped, the promise of a boon swayed the blond, who slowly relaxed in his arms. “You were really on a case?”
“I swear it,” Harry promised.
“And it was dangerous?”
“Very dangerous. I might have died.”
Draco snorted, but Harry could practically feel the thaw beneath his skin. “Died. Really?” he asked dryly.
“It could happen!” Harry protested and Draco actually laughed.
He turned around and moved into Harry’s embrace. “You said something about making it up to me?”
Harry smiled and held the blond tightly. At that moment he didn’t care if it cost him every Galleon in his Gringott’s account to buy Draco’s forgiveness.
The next day he presented Draco with a small silver mirror, barely large enough to fit in his palm. It matched one that Harry kept.
“What is this?” Draco asked dubiously.
“You will be able to see me whenever you want,” Harry said. “It doesn’t allow two-way communication, but I will feel it warm in my pocket. When I pull it out, you will see me and I’ll be able to show you where I am if I’m ever late.”
Draco frowned. “It works both ways?” he asked.
“I won’t use mine,” Harry promised. “Unless you call me with yours. Besides, you can always ignore it.”
Draco sneered. “You’re an idiot. What if this falls into the wrong hands?”
“I trust you,” Harry said simply.
Draco glared at him and then rolled his eyes as he muttered idiot once more, but he tucked the mirror away and Harry thought he saw a softening of Draco’s beautiful features. Harry grinned wickedly and Draco sniffed. “Oh, you think a stupid present and some nice words will sway me into letting you shag me, is that it?”
“Yes,” Harry said hopefully.
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Draco advised.
Harry rounded the table and pulled the blond into his arms before shoving him up against the nearest immobile object, which happened to be a mahogany credenza. Several dishes on its top rattled in protest. “Is this hard enough for you?” he asked as he pressed his erection into Draco’s groin.
“It’s a start,” Draco said breathily and reached for him.
~~ x ~~
Draco smiled at his mother, who looked better than she had in years. Draco suspected she had found a new man in Paris, although she had not mentioned anyone by name. There was something in her manner that was telling, a confidence she had lost during the darkness of the past few years. Draco had never thought to see it return and for that he was almost ridiculously thankful to Harry, even though he would never mention it to the Auror. It was ironic, really, that the Chosen One saved people even when he tried to be selfish.
“Something has happened to you, Draco,” his mother said suddenly.
He smiled at her warily. “What do you mean?”
“You seem… better now. I haven’t seen you so relaxed in months and you look amazing. I feared for your health, but now…”
Draco nearly laughed. She had been worried about him? What a pair they were. Draco shrugged. “I feel better now. And yes, something has happened, but I’m not quite ready to talk about it.”
“Not even to your mother?”
“Are you ready to tell me your secret?” he countered. If she had been the blushing type, Draco swore she would have, but instead she merely picked up her water glass and took a drink. He chuckled. “I thought not.”
“I might have met someone,” she admitted.
Draco ignored the stab of fear he felt at her words. It was one thing to suspect, but quite another to know that a potential predator was stalking his mother. He frowned. “You will be careful?”
“Draco,” she admonished. “I’m not completely helpless and I’m not stupid.”
Oddly, the fire in her words made him feel more at ease, and strangely proud. He remembered how she had been before the war—no one would have dared to cross her. Perhaps she had not changed all that much, after all. He snorted anyway, refusing to concede.
“What about you? You won’t get hurt, will you?” she asked quietly.
Draco mimicked her action by taking a drink from his own glass. He thought about Harry and the blood seemed to quicken in his veins. It had only been six weeks, but the thought of eventually leaving 12 Grimmauld Place made his stomach clench. Hurt? Oh yes, Draco could almost guarantee that he would be hurt. He would just have to locate the strength to withstand it; after all, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“I’ll be fine, Mother.”
“We both will, Draco.”
For the first time, he actually believed it.
~~ x ~~
Harry could tell Draco was getting restless. The house was nearly finished and it looked incredible, but Draco’s only excursions outside were his limited shopping trips and his visits to Narcissa. Sometimes he wondered what had happened to Draco’s friends—Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Goyle. He never mentioned them and never seemed to spend any time with them. Harry still spent Friday evenings with Ron and Hermoine, although lately he had been struck by the bizarre urge to bring Draco along. Only the knowledge that all three of them would be against it stayed Harry from bringing it up. Hermione might be understanding. Ron and Draco? Never.
Draco sighed, looking out at the bedraggled Muggle garden. Harry smiled. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?”
Draco turned and glared at him. “Dressed? Usually you are trying to get me undressed.”
“I’ll save that for later and thank you for giving me something to look forward to,” Harry replied. He furrowed his brow. “Did I not mention that I’m taking you to dinner tonight?”
Silver eyes flashed. “No you did not.”
Harry tugged at his forelock. “I could swear I did. Silly me. If you would rather not go…”
“I didn’t say that,” Draco said quickly. “Where are we going?”
“Scotland.”
Draco sneered. “Scotland? Are you taking me to some pub where they serve mutton sandwiches? Shall I wear a kilt?”
The thought of Draco in a kilt definitely did not have the effect Draco likely intended. Harry’s mouth went dry. “Probably not, but will you wear one when we get back?”
Draco blushed much to Harry’s delight. “You are a pervert, Potter.”
“Only for ye, darlin’,” Harry said with a bad Scottish accent. Draco sent a mild Stinging Hex his way. “Watch it, you, or I’ll leave you here and hook up with some fit Scottish bloke.”
Draco wrinkled his nose. “They all smell of sheep, those Scots. You’d be crawling back here before the night was up, begging me to take you back.”
Harry was ready to start begging now. “Just go get dressed. And no, it’s not a lowly pub. It’s fancy enough for you.”
“We’ll see,” Draco said snobbishly, but he went out, calling behind him, “You’re not wearing that, are you?”
Harry laughed, because Draco said those words every time Harry tried to leave the house, no matter what he wore.
Draco looked stunning, as usual, when he finally appeared in robes that seemed white at first glance. It was only when he moved closer that the colour was evident--a pale blue-grey that resembled a waterfall by the way it moved with the light. Harry had taken extra time with his own clothing, even though he knew he would never measure up to the effortless elegance of his escort.
Harry tugged at the collar of his wine-coloured dress robes, thinking the salesgirl at the shop must have been myopic when she had suggested the colour for him. He should have stayed with something that looked mildly decent, like black.
For once, however, Draco made no disparaging remarks when he looked Harry up and down. For a moment, Harry even felt like a canapé, especially when Draco purred, "Very nice, Harry." He wondered how important a night out could be when weighed against the option of having spectacular sex in the foyer.
The fact that Draco's stunning good looks deserved an audience cooled Harry's libido, at least long enough for him to offer Draco his arm. "Shall we?"
The restaurant in Edinburgh was set atop the Museum of Scotland and featured a spectacular view of the city. Draco said nothing, which meant Harry had managed to impress him somewhat, especially after they were seated in a semi-private area with a lovely view and comfortable leather seats.
Harry ordered a bottle of wine, trying to appear suave. In truth, he had practically memorized their wine list over the past week, which included extensive research into what made a decent bottle of wine and what would be considered shite by the patrician blond. Draco smirked at him in amusement, causing Harry to flush, but he was silent, giving Harry mute approval of his selection. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good.
Dinner was spectacular, from the seared pigeon breast and cauliflower soup to the butternut and pancetta risotto. "It's good," Draco admitted and Harry beamed at what amounted to high praise from the blond.
Draco ordered caramel-poached pears with praline mousse for dessert while Harry settled on a light mango custard with strawberries. He set his spoon aside after eating half the dessert. He looked across the table and dredged up his courage. “Draco, I want to ask you something.”
The blond’s expression turned positively panicked for a moment, until he schooled his features back into his usual laissez faire mask. Harry knew him well enough by now that he could see the tension in the set of his jaw and the barely perceptible movement of Draco’s fingers upon the tablecloth. “You do not need my permission to ask a question,” he said blandly.
Harry smiled and reached across the table to touch the long fingers, tightening when Draco tried to pull away. He refused to let go until Draco relaxed, and then he merely loosed his grip and made tiny circles on the back of Draco’s hand with his thumb.
“All right,” Harry said. "Here it is. The Ministry is having a gala of some sort--I can't recall the bloody occasion. Anyway, it's one of those things where everyone has to dress up and mingle and pretend to have a good time. And dance. That sort of thing."
Draco's mask became even more unreadable. "Who do you plan to take to this... thing, Potter?"
Harry nearly winced. Draco only called him Potter these days when he was upset or being sarcastic.
"Is it the Weasley bint? I know she's never gotten over you. Does she join you on your Friday evening meals when you desert me each week? I've often wondered. Do you plan to get back together with her?"
Harry blinked at him, completely thrown by the question. Ginny? Harry hadn't seen her in... how long? Months, surely. Did Draco not know Ginny had moved to Wales? And why did his tone sound so bitter?
"No. No, Draco, of course not. Ginny is... well, it's you, actually. I want to take you. Will you be my date?"
Draco stared at him for so long that Harry began to fear he had been turned to stone. He glanced around to see who might have cast a hex. Finally, Draco shook off his stasis. "You've gone completely mad. What happened? Imperius Curse? Ex -Death Eater finally caught up with you?"
Harry forced a smile. "No. You see, it's a masquerade."
Draco massaged his temple with the hand not trapped by Harry. "Potter. I don't care if it's a masquerade. I don’t care if everyone comes dressed as pumpkins. Everyone will know it's you. It will be blatantly obvious. And you're still a man. You're the Super Auror. The Hero. The Chosen One. The Slayer of Voldemort does not attend public functions in the company of a man."
Harry set his jaw adamantly. "He does now."
Draco gaped at him. "Are you seriously telling me you plan to expose your... preferences at such a public setting?"
Harry nodded.
"Why?" Draco demanded. "You'll be eviscerated!"
Harry shrugged. "I'll be eviscerated, anyway. At least this way it will be over in one fell swoop. Completely public."
“It will not be over in one fell swoop. It will never be over. You will be hounded eternally.”
“Are you saying you won’t come with me?”
“What if I’m recognized? It’s bad enough that you plan to expose yourself—in a manner of speaking—but with a former Death Eater? You’ll be worse than eviscerated. You’ll be a pariah.”
Harry smiled at the very idea of the wizarding world turning its back on him just because he preferred blokes. He had saved them all from years, possibly decades, of bloody war. The least they could do was allow him to live his life as he saw fit. And if they did declare him outcast… What of it? Harry could live among Muggles.
He wrinkled his nose at the thought and Draco heaved a sigh. “Thank Merlin, you’ve reconsidered. Go find some willing girl and have her escort you. Just not that Weasley bint, if you don’t mind. That red hair and those spots would clash horribly with the Gryffindor-coloured dress robes you no doubt plan to purchase.”
“I’ve not reconsidered. My mind is made up about this, Draco. If you won’t come with me, I’ll… I’ll just ask some other bloke.”
Draco’s glare could have frozen the custard. “What other bloke?” he gritted.
“I don’t know!” Harry said. “I’m certain there is someone out there willing to—”
“Willing to be gay for the Great Potter?” Draco sneered.
Harry threw his napkin on the table and got to his feet. “Never mind,” he growled. “I suppose it was a stupid idea.”
The waiter was instantly at Harry’s side, concerned. Harry assured him that the food and service had been spectacular. He paid and left a generous tip before stalking outside to await Draco in the area reserved for Apparition. The Tower was a Muggle restaurant as well as a wizarding one. Heavy Disillusionment Charms prevented the Muggles from seeing anything out of the ordinary, but appearing and disappearing needed to be kept under concealment.
Draco joined him after a moment and Harry took his arm and Disapparated them home. Once there, Harry marched upstairs to change clothes. He should have expected Draco’s reaction. In actuality, everything he had said made perfect sense and it had to have been quite a shock to him. Harry had been thinking about it for days, so he’d had time to adjust.
He hung his clothing in the wardrobe and paused with his hand on the wooden door. Draco had replaced much of the furniture in the room. The entire house had benefited from his presence. Hell, Harry’s entire life had changed because of Draco. He had no right to ask more of him than he… paid for. Harry’s shoulders sagged. Sometimes he forgot that their relationship was nothing more than that of rentboy and client. At times it seemed like so much more.
He felt Draco enter the room and then heard him approach. A pale hand reached out and touched Harry’s shoulder. He gave in to the pressure and turned to face Draco, who put his fingers beneath Harry’s chin and tilted his head until their eyes met. Draco sighed. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll come.”
Harry tried to breathe normally. “You will?”
Draco nodded. “But I had better have a damned good costume. I refuse to be labelled as the cause of your unnatural predilection.”
“It’s not unnatural!” Harry protested.
“They will say it is. And they will blame me.”
“Well, I don’t care what they say.” Harry was adamant. “But you’re right. I won’t bring anything down on your head. You’ve been through enough.”
Draco was still for a moment. “You sound as if you believe that.”
“Of course I believe it!”
Draco enfolded Harry in a sudden embrace and Harry couldn’t help it, he melted, resting his chin on Draco’s shoulder and holding him tightly. The bloody Ministry and the rest of the damned world seemed far away and unimportant.
“Merlin, what am I going to do with you?” Draco muttered.
“I can think of a few things,” Harry quipped.
Draco sighed and pulled him toward the bed where he thought of quite a few things on his own.
Chapter Eight
