Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Aren't you ready yet, Potter?” Draco called up the stairs of Grimmauld Place. "We're going to be late!" He fretted with the large, unwieldy bag he was carrying over his shoulder, wondering again if he had brought enough reading material for their planned afternoon at the beach. Some of the books were quite old and rare, too fragile to risk shrinking the bag and its contents to make it easier to manage. Potter was going to laugh at him, of course, but he wasn't the one studying for a potions mastery. No, Harry Potter was taking a vacation from his job as an Auror and had all the time in the world to flounce about on beaches with his friends.

There was an indistinct reply from up the stairs, and Draco sighed. He had attempted to chivvy Harry to start getting ready early enough that they might actually leave on time for once, but it seemed his efforts were fruitless as always. After another glance at the large grandfather clock, he started up the stairs with muttered imprecations against incivility and respect for others.

As he approached Harry's room, he tried again. "Potter! What could possibly be taking you so long?" he barked. "I know it's not your hair, because there is no way you actually make it look that way on purpose." His thoughts scattered as he pushed open the bedroom door to find Harry facing away from him, in the process of pulling a shirt over his head and exposing the full expanse of his back for a brief second that left Draco feeling voyeuristic and uncomfortably aroused. The man had no right to have skin that smooth, a rich brown expanse that Draco inevitably found himself running his hands over whenever he had the opportunity. It was very distracting.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Harry said easily as he finished getting dressed and turned to face Draco. He ran a hand through his hair unconsciously, not addressing the situation of permanent dishevelment that seemed to exist on his head so much as perturbing it further. It was the most unfair, Draco thought to himself sulkily. Harry's hair was objectively a disaster by any measure, and it absolutely worked for him.

"Are you done primping yourself yet?" Draco asked, feeling mulish. "We can still meet your friends on time if we leave now, but we'll have to walk quickly."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's a beach day, Draco," he said patiently. "Not a pureblood society event."

"Yes, well, not all of us have the goodwill of the rest of the wizarding world to fall back on when we commit acts of social barbarism," Draco grumbled. "Are you ready to go yet, or should I set my things down and make myself comfortable?"

Harry appeared to take notice of Draco's bag for the first time. "Is that..." he began in amazement. "Are you bringing your entire library? Is that your wolfsbane essay sticking out the top?"

"I am prepared, Potter," Draco said defensively, holding the bag close against his chest. "I don’t want to run out of reading material in case... in case I need to read a lot." He didn't add that he also had clothing for a variety of weather conditions, a shrunken beach chair, and an assortment of snacks because Harry compulsively grazed on whatever was nearby and he always seemed a bit forlorn when the snacks ran out.

Harry's smile faded. "You're doing that thing again," he said. "Where you call me 'Potter' because something is bothering you. It's not just about being late, is it?"

"It's not not about being late," Draco replied evasively. Just to be obstinate he added "Potter" and watched in satisfaction as Harry's lips twitched. "I don't need your friends to like me," he finally said, looking down at his bag and digging through it distractedly. Did he have his advisor's feedback on his latest draft with him? It would be useful to review that again before their next meeting. "They have lots of reasons not to feel... well-intentioned towards me. I just need to give them no extra reasons to dislike me. Like being rude by showing up late. That is, if we're going to be... serious about this." He hesitated, still focusing on his bag. "About us."

His rummaging was interrupted as Harry suddenly crossed the distance between them and took his face in his hands, gently raising his chin until he was looking Harry in the eyes. "Draco," he began, and Draco couldn't help the small shiver of delight that he felt when he heard Harry utter his name in that tone of voice. “Draco,” Harry said again, because he was absolutely ruthless when it came to exploiting Draco’s weaknesses, “I’m serious. And my friends know that I’m serious, and they might not understand why yet, but they will give you a chance because they’re my friends.”

The intensity of Harry’s gaze did terrible, wonderful things to Draco’s insides. It was so easy to forget that the laid back, casual Harry Potter that most of the world got to see could be replaced in a moment by this intense version who believed completely in his ability to fix any problem. It was suddenly easy to believe that this was the wizard who had vanquished the Dark Lord after eluding him for most of a year; who had spoken in Draco’s defence at his trial after the war; who had spearheaded a movement to reform Azkaban and the larger British wizarding criminal justice system. To be fair, Draco was 99% sure that Granger had been the brains and organization behind that last one, which was an ongoing struggle with the Wizengamot.

Harry searched Draco’s face for something and appeared to find it, since he proceeded to draw their faces together so their lips met gently in the middle. Draco felt Harry’s hands move to frame his cheeks as he fell into the kiss, their noses bumping as they found a rhythm together. His mouth opened slightly as Harry’s tongue danced out and touched his lips once, twice, and he felt his pulse racing as the kiss threatened to become something much less chaste. As they continued to exchange tentative licks, their faces pressed together, Harry’s hands moved again and Draco soon found that his arse was being clutched in a very enticing fashion. He rewarded Harry with a quick nip of his bottom lip and felt Harry’s grip tighten in response as he made a pleased rumbling sound.

To Draco’s disappointment, Harry pulled back from the clutch shortly afterwards, his hands moving back up to rest on Draco’s waist. “Listen,” he said breathily. “I’m pretty sure I have your poison remedies textbook stabbing me in the chest. Is there any chance we could do this without your entire library hanging between us?”

Draco dazedly looked down and realized that he still had his arms wrapped around his giant, unwieldy bag, holding it in front of him as if it were a protective barrier. “Oh,” he said. “Yes. Of course.” He quickly set it down and stood there awkwardly, feeling almost naked now that there was nothing separating them. “That was very nice,” he attempted. “Thank you?”

Harry took a step closer, wearing a small smile, his eyes dark. “Would you like to continue?” he asked in a low voice, and Draco felt his traitorous body shudder with anticipation.

“We really ought to be going,” he attempted, but somehow his hands had already moved under Harry’s shirt and were caressing his smooth back of their own volition.

“We could be quick,” Harry suggested, his smile growing as he closed the remaining distance between them. Their bodies pressed together, hard and soft by degrees, sliding against each other and causing Draco to moan involuntarily. “We won’t be late,” Harry said confidently, and Draco kissed him to shut him up because it was only going to go downhill from there and he might as well enjoy the ride.

It had all started going wrong a week earlier. They had been curled up on a sofa in Grimmauld Place as Harry carded his fingers through Draco’s hair, the gentle, repetitive motion lulling him dangerously close to falling asleep. Then an owl had arrived and Harry had stopped playing with Draco’s hair in order to get up and open the window and coo over the bird, pulling Draco rudely from his half-doze so he no longer felt quite as charitable towards his ostensible... friend with benefits? Boyfriend? Work acquaintance? They had resolutely avoided discussing what they were doing, but it had quickly escalated from repeated shagging after nights out at the pub to something terribly domestic over the course of three months. It made Draco feel awkward and uncomfortable whenever he thought about it, so he tried not to do that.

“It’s fine,” he grumbled, looking at the ceiling from his prone position on the sofa. “You can abandon me for a bird despite the fact that you promised to cook me supper. I understand that you have the attention span of a flobberworm. I’ll just expire quietly over here.”

“Don’t mind him,” Harry said, still talking to the bird despite Draco’s eloquent and forthright expression of his feelings. “He couldn’t expire quietly to save his own life.”

Draco huffed. “I could too,” he said petulantly. “And besides, that doesn’t even make any sense. Still, I’m going to. I hope petting that owl is worth it.” He refused to look at Harry and kept staring at the ceiling, counting seconds in his head. When he reached 20 and still heard nothing happening, he risked a look at Harry. “Merlin wept,” he said in disgust. “Are you even going to read the letter that it brought, or are you just going to indulge that owl for the rest of the evening?”

The owl in question had its eyes closed and was leaning into Harry’s hand with a look of bliss on its face. Harry was regarding it tenderly as he gently stroked it; Draco had noticed he tended to go soft around the edges where owls were concerned. It was one more item in a long mental list of things he never expected to find attractive about Harry Potter. The entire thing was mortifying.

“Told you,” Harry said, still talking to the owl. Malfoy gave him a two-fingered salute just on principle. “He does have a point though,” Harry continued, and he reluctantly stopped his petting in order to pluck the letter off of the owl’s leg and unfurl it. The owl emerged from its trance and gave an indignant hoot as it ruffled its feathers, then shuffled a couple steps away from Harry as if to assert its independence. Malfoy nodded at it in solidarity, but it ignored him and started grooming itself.

“Ooh,” Harry exclaimed as he scanned the letter. “Ron and Hermione want to have a beach day next weekend. They think I need to ‘get out of the house’ and ‘interact with other humans’ during Robard’s forced vacation.” He glanced up at Draco, and a lascivious smile appeared as his gaze swept across Draco’s body on the sofa. “Do you think what we get up to counts as human interaction?”

Draco swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. It wasn’t fair that a single look from Harry could do that to him. “Do they know what we get up to?” he asked before his brain caught up with his mouth. Cursing himself, he dropped his head back to the sofa. He wasn’t sure which possible answer to his question he feared more – that he was Harry’s dirty little secret, or that Harry had told the whole world that they were... something. He didn’t actually want to have this conversation yet. Or at all, possibly. There was a lot to be said for ambiguity.

A conspicuous silence from Harry’s part of the room followed his question. “Er,” Harry eventually said, sounding embarrassed. “Not... exactly?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Potter,” he said. “I haven’t told anybody about you either. We can keep this to ourselves for as long as it lasts. It’s less messy that way.” This sort of thing happened all the time. He could be an adult about it. “It’s probably for the best,” he said, trying to sound wise and experienced.

“What, nobody?” Harry asked indignantly. “I told Hermione and Ron that I was seeing someone. According to them I should ‘bring my new boyfriend to the beach’ as well.” He fluttered the letter in Draco’s direction.

Draco lay there, poleaxed. The ease with which Harry dropped a bombshell like that... suddenly the tables were turned, and Draco was the one hiding things. “They don’t actually know who I am, though, right?” he asked defensively. “They wouldn’t issue that invitation if you had told them.”

“They would,” Harry argued, and Draco snorted in disbelief. “They would,” Harry repeated stubbornly. There was the sound of parchment rustling from his direction. “I’ll prove it.”

Draco raised his head and looked at Harry. “What are you doing?” he asked warily. Harry was focused on writing something and didn’t respond. “Potter, what madness are you initiating?” he asked more urgently. This was all going terribly wrong because he hadn’t kept his mouth shut.

“You’re right,” Harry replied absently as he kept writing. “I’ve gone about this badly.” Finishing with a flourish, he blew on the parchment to dry the ink. “The beach sounds great!” he read off of it. To Draco’s rising horror, he continued, “I would love to join you, and Draco Malfoy (the boyfriend that I mentioned) -” He paused for a moment, and Draco was sure that Harry had realized what a momentously terrible idea this was, but instead Harry asked “You’re coming right? I can tell them that?”

“To the beach?” Draco asked. “With you? And.. them? How do you think this could possibly end well, Potter?”

“It’ll be fun!” Harry protested. “We can go together and it’ll be less weird than having them over for a dinner party or something. Besides, there will be other people there too.”

“Let me guess,” Draco said, narrowing his eyes. “Your whole gang of Gryffindors, with maybe a Ravenclaw thrown in as a token gesture.”

Harry scanned the page. “Hannah’s a Hufflepuff,” he eventually said, sounding defensive.

“Well I’ve never been to the beach before, and I’m having a hard time imagining how this could be a more welcoming gathering,” Draco said snidely.

“You’ve never been to the beach?” Harry cried in dismay. “But... it’s the beach!”

“Malfoys don’t go to the beach,” Draco sneered. “We go to the seaside, if we’re feeling particularly down on our luck and want to mix with the lower classes.” He immediately regretted his cleverness even before a small frown had appeared on Harry’s face. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled quickly. “I don’t actually mean that. But no, for some reason my parents did not believe that the beach was an important part of the education of the scion of Malfoy.”

“Well, that settles it,” Harry said decisively. “You can’t get out of this now – you need a proper beach experience to see what you’ve been missing.” He turned back to the parchment and continued reading as he wrote: “Draco Malfoy (the boyfriend that I mentioned) has never been to the beach and is very excited about the prospect.”

Draco put a pillow over his face and groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said in a pained voice. He stayed in that position while Harry shuffled around and, judging by the cooing sounds, attached his parchment to the owl and sent it on its way. “So that’s it? We’re... boyfriends now? Just like that?” he finally asked, pulling the cushion down again so he could see Harry.

Harry shut the window behind the owl as it winged its way into the sky. “Er,” he said, suddenly sounding uncertain. “Yes? We do a lot of boyfriend stuff, right?” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively as he turned to regard Draco. “It just felt right, you know?”

Draco let out his best put-upon sigh. “One usually expects to have some kind of input into these matters,” he said petulantly. He wasn’t even sure why he was clearly gearing up for an argument; it just didn’t feel fair that something that he’d been avoiding for weeks could be brushed aside in such a cavalier manner. “There’s a way these things are usually done, you know,” he said pointedly.

A lopsided grin appeared on Harry’s face as he leaned back against the wall and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Is this another one of those pureblood things?” he asked. “Do I need to arrange some kind of meeting with your family?”

“Pureblood thing?” Draco squawked. “What? What?”

“Do I need to, what was it, formally declare my intentions or whatever in front of your mother?” Harry’s grin grew wider as he performed a mock bow.

“My mother?” Draco asked in horror. “Are you mad?”

A small crease in Harry’s brow. “Draco, please don’t tell me I need to ask for your father’s permission to date you,” he said warily.

“Circe’s tits,” Draco swore. “Potter, if you do anything of the sort we shall never speak again.”

“Ok,” Harry said, crossing his arms again. “Tell me what I’m missing here. I swear I want to do this right.”

Draco sighed and looked at the ceiling. Merlin, how he hated talking about these things. “Just... ask, you berk,” he finally said. “That’s all.”

He heard Harry move from his spot at the window and cross the room to stand in front of the couch, but he kept staring upwards and refused to give in to his curiosity. “Draco Malfoy,” Harry began, and Draco looked over involuntarily to see that he was actually kneeling and this was one hundred times more embarrassing than Draco had ever imagined. “Would you be my boyfriend?” Harry regarded him seriously as he reached out and took Draco’s hand gently, interlacing their fingers without taking his eyes off of Draco’s face.

“Yes, yes, all right, if you insist,” Draco said, attempting an air of vague disinterest as he felt a flush steal its way across his face. “We might as well, I suppose.” Lord, but Harry’s eyes were distracting when he gave something his full attention.

Harry smiled, wide and easy. “Glad to hear it,” he said as he leaned down to plant a kiss on Draco’s forehead. Draco felt himself return the smile, then he watched Harry’s expression turn mischievous before he quickly pressed his face against the hollow between Draco’s neck and shoulders. Draco gasped involuntarily as Harry’s lips brushed the skin that was exposed by his shirt collar, and Harry murmured “It would be such a shame if I couldn’t do this anymore .”

“Well,” Draco began, still distractedly trying to process the fact that they were suddenly boyfriends. “Yes, I agree. That would be a shame. This is probably for the best. For everyone.”

“You know what else I’m glad I can still do?” Harry whispered lasciviously as he slid his face lower down Draco’s chest, already pulling Draco’s shirt out of the waistband of his trousers.

“I’m sure I haven’t the faintest,” Draco said as his breath hitched. “Not a single clue. I think you’ll have to enlighten me. Please be very specific about all the particulars.”

They were late arriving at the beach. They were conspicuously late, and Draco told himself that it didn’t matter because they were meeting Harry’s friends who would forgive Harry anything. They were late enough that if his family had ever been this late to an event, Draco’s mother would have written personalized notes of apology and looked for opportunities to demonstrate their remorse – donations, introductions, anything to pay down the enormous social debt that would be understood to exist each time they greeted each other in public with cordial voices and looks that could cut glass.

Still, it had been glorious. He could almost tell himself that it had been worth it and not feel his mother’s disappointment burning into the back of his neck.

They arrived at the beach’s apparition point in a whirl of clothing and bags. It was a beach that was shared by wizards and muggles alike, but there was a dedicated area for wizards and witches that had charms in place to helpfully remind any wandering muggles of that very important thing they had left in their car. Draco had never actually been to such a place before, but he had done his research ahead of time when Harry had shown no sign of backing out of his plan.

They had left behind a cloudy day in central London, but Brighton was living up to its name – a brilliant blue sky dotted with white puffy clouds had Draco immediately reaching for his jumper’s sleeves to roll them up. He looked over at Harry, who had already pulled off his windbreaker and was in the process of slipping off his shoes. As soon as he had freed his feet from their confines, Harry dug his feet into the sand and wiggled his toes just below the surface.

“That’s more like it,” he sighed contentedly, then glanced over at Draco’s footwear. “I promise you’ll be more comfortable out of your Oxfords.”

“Not all of us are so quick to throw off the mantle of civilization,” Draco sniffed.

Harry only laughed. “Come on,” he said, reaching out for Draco’s hand. “I can hear them already.”

“Yes, by all means, let’s not prolong this ordeal any more than we have to,” Draco said, but he allowed himself to be led towards what he felt more and more certain would be a mistake.

The Gryffindors (Draco, feeling vindicated, noted that the group was almost entirely comprised of Harry’s usual housemates from their Hogwarts days) were sprawled out on blankets in the shade provided by several large umbrellas, chatting and laughing away in their typically raucous fashion. The group was mainly facing away from them, but Draco saw when the Weasellette (Weasley, he forcefully reminded himself) noticed Harry first and her face lit up, and he also saw when it closed right back up upon recognizing him. She leaned over to whisper something in the ear of the person next to her, and when that mass of blonde curls wreathed in daisies turned to face them it turned out to be Lovegood with a beaming smile on her face.

“Harry! Hello!” she called to them, then got to her feet and ran towards them, her hair and gossamer sundress billowing out behind her in the light breeze. Draco was aware of the rest of the group turning their attention to them, but he was distracted as Luna ran full-tilt into Harry, causing him to grunt and put his arms around her with a laugh.

“Nice to see you, too,” he said fondly. “I like your flower crown.”

“Ginny made it for me,” Luna said proudly, before disengaging from the hug. She skipped backwards a couple paces and tilted her head consideringly. “Not a single nargle to be seen,” she pronounced solemnly. Turning to Draco, she continued: “You must be a good influence on him, Draco.”

“Thank you?” Draco replied uncertainly.

“A surplus of nargles can do terrible things to the spirit,” Luna said seriously. “There’s something about Harry that nargles seem to find very attractive. I’ve been meaning to do an investigative report for the Quibbler on it; I hope I haven’t missed my chance!”

“Sorry, Luna, no talking to the press for me for the time being,” Harry said, a bit awkwardly. “I’m keeping a low profile these days.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” he asked. “Aren’t you the darling of the Daily Prophet? What will they do without your dashing visage to sell their front page?”

Harry snorted. “Find someone else to bother, hopefully,” he said. “Work told me to stop taking questions from them; Robards says I’m ‘a bit crap at it.’” He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Maybe I’ll even be able to keep secrets about my personal life for once.”

Before Draco could wonder what that meant, Luna replied, “Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to go with my exposé on the mating habits of the Scandinavian whifflepoof. Did you know they only mate once a year, during the peak of Aurora Borealis activity? Imagine all that tension in the air the rest of the year.”

Harry laughed. “Sounds brilliant, Luna. Come on, let’s go say hi to everybody else.”

Draco allowed himself to be pulled around by Harry and subjected to a range of reactions from the other beach day attendees. Really, it wasn’t that different from back when his parents used to bring him to society events; though everybody was more or less cordial, there were enough lingering and cutting glances that he almost felt nostalgic about it.

Longbottom was one of the most overtly friendly of the group, giving him a nod of recognition from the opposite side of the blanket arrangement. He and Draco had crossed paths in the years since leaving Hogwarts, as Longbottom was angling for a mastery of Herbology at the same university in London that Draco was attending, and some guarded conversations had taken place between them. Longbottom had his shirt off in the early afternoon sun and had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, in Draco’s opinion. Hannah Abbott, sitting next to him, seemed to share that view, judging by the stolen glances when Longbottom turned away.

On the other hand, girl Weasley barely acknowledged Draco. “About time you showed up,” she told Harry from her reclining pose under a beach umbrella as Luna brought them over. “The rest of us were starting to wonder if you were going to come.”

Draco elbowed Harry meaningfully. “Told you,” he whispered.

“Well, we’re here now,” Harry said with a smile. “How’s the season going?”

“I know you follow the league; how do you think it’s going?” she retorted. “The Harpies have lost the past five matches and we’re playing the top-rated team next, so there’s not really a lot to look forward to at the moment.”

Harry held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry,” he said. “I should know better. I hate when people ask me about my Auror cases.”

“At least you’re on vacation right now,” she groused. “Hermione says that apparently you’re just shacked up with this one and taking it easy for a while.” She indicated Draco with a jut of her chin, and Draco felt Harry’s grip on his hand tighten slightly. “Lucky stiff.”

“Can’t recommend it enough,” was all Harry replied, though. “You should give it a go – see if you can pull Luna away from the Quibbler for a month. Don’t tell Hestia ahead of time, just close off your floo and enjoy yourselves.”

Ginny snorted. “That sounds like a quick way to get myself kicked off the team. Speaking of Luna, we were about to go get ice cream – did you want any?”

Harry looked enquiringly at Draco, who shook his head. “We’ll pass,” Harry replied for both of them, even though Draco wasn’t sure the offer had been meant for him.

“Suit yourself,” Ginny said as she stood and brushed sand off her bottom. She grabbed a sun hat off the beach towel and trotted over to where Luna was crouched next to Longbottom, engrossed in a discussion about what Draco imagined was either plants or imaginary things. Possibly imaginary plants.

Something snapped into place in Draco’s head as they watched the Weasley girl go. “Harry,” he asked quietly, “when is your vacation over?” Thinking back, he couldn’t remember Harry mentioning the end date, just that he was taking time off from his work as an Auror. At the time Draco had been neck-deep in an essay on fey potion ingredients and had mostly just complained about how some people still had work they needed to do and couldn’t afford to be distracted by the Chosen One swanning about, thank you very much.

“Hmm?” Harry asked. He was looking into the distance and sounded distracted, but Draco could feel that he was tense all of a sudden.

“When do you return to work?” Draco asked persistently as conversations continued around them.

Harry sighed and rubbed his eye with his free hand. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

Draco paused. “You... don’t know when you’re going back to work,” he said slowly. “Are you still an Auror?”

“Of course,” Harry said unconvincingly. “I mean, I think so. Robards told me to take time off. I’m on, uh... ‘Administrative leave’ is what they called it.”

“Can I ask one final question?” Draco asked tentatively.

Harry sighed again. “Sure, why not.”

“Have you told anybody else?”

It was Harry’s turn to pause. “No,” he finally said. “I wasn’t sure...” He trailed off instead of finishing the thought.

“Ok,” Draco said simply, squeezing his hand. “It’s ok.”

Harry flashed him a relieved grin, then returned his attention to his friends again. “Dean! Seamus!” he cried as he moved towards the pair, with levity into his voice that wasn’t there a moment ago and Draco trailing behind him in his wake.

Their final stop on the grand tour of beach day attendees were the other two thirds of the golden trio. “Malfoy,” boy Weasley said guardedly as Harry and Draco set down their assorted bags on the sand next to him. “So I suppose we’re stuck with you today?”

Draco stiffened. “Weasley,” he replied levelly. “You can blame Potter for this. I promise it wasn’t my idea.”

Harry put his bag down roughly. “Ok, this stops right now,” he said. “Ron, mate, can I have a word?”

Weasley looked over at Granger next to him and rolled his eyes, but got up and followed Harry several metres away. Draco tried not to listen to the snippets of their whispered argument that carried (Harry always forgot about practical spells like muffliato) and dug through his bag of books, pulling out a textbook on rare potions ingredients. Still ignoring the phrases like “you promised” and “he’s different” that drifted over to him, he sat down in the shade provided by one of several beach umbrellas and opened the textbook in his lap, spreading its comforting weight across his legs.

Granger laughed softly from her seat nearby, and he glanced up to find her watching him. “Ron said that I was the only person in the world who would bring schoolbooks to the beach,” she explained, reaching into a bag next to her to pull out a green book with Intro to Family Magical Law emblazoned on the cover in gold lettering.

“Weasley was never top of his class and you were, so that doesn’t really surprise me,” Draco said without thinking. He immediately clamped his mouth shut; the smart thing to do would be to sit quietly and listen and not make his presence any more memorable than it already was by necessity. He just needed to get through the afternoon without carelessly insulting anybody.

To his surprise, Granger huffed a laugh. “I’m honestly kind of surprised you can admit that,” she said, replacing the textbook in her bag.

Draco took a breath to steady himself. “Look, Granger,” he began, “I know that I have behaved... very poorly towards you in the past.” She hummed noncommittally and continued fussing with her bag, not looking at him. Draco nervously continued: “I said things to you and about you that were inexcusable, and... and took actions that I regret, actions that hurt you and people you care about.” He paused, feeling his heart racing. “I know I cannot change what I said and did, and I wish it were otherwise. Please know that I am sorry, and I’m trying to be a better person now than I was in school.”

Granger had given up on the pretense of her bag and was looking at him steadily with her arms crossed. She waited to see if he had anything more to add, then leaned back in her chair consideringly. “Well,” she said finally, “Harry can be a surprisingly good judge of character sometimes, so I’m willing to see how it goes.”

Draco felt relief flood through him. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s more than I deserve.”

Granger hummed again. “Possibly,” was her only reply.

Draco was saved from having to figure out what to say next by Harry’s return with Weasley in tow. “Hey Hermione,” he said jovially. “Have you and Draco been, er... catching up, then?”

“That’s right,” she replied. “We’re bonding over our appreciation of textbooks. Common ground, and all that.”

Harry sighed. “Don’t tell me you’ve got some with you today as well.”

“I tried to stop her,” Weasley said, reclaiming his seat next to Granger. “Might as well have told her not to breathe.” He kissed the side of her head fondly, and a small smile appeared on Granger’s face. Turning his attention to Draco, Weasley’s face did something which may have been an attempt at being earnest. It made him look like he was experiencing heartburn, in Draco’s opinion. “And um, Malfoy. Welcome to our beach day, I guess? It’s good to meet Harry’s secret boyfriend. I mean, not meet, really. Since we were at school and everything. But it’s been a while. And here you are now.”

Draco briefly entertained the idea of a sarcastic retort, or some kind of snide witticism that highlighted how underwhelming that greeting had been, but he reminded himself firmly of his goal: do not antagonize Harry’s friends. Do nothing to cause Harry to reconsider the whole affair. Even though Draco was a worse boyfriend than Harry and still hadn’t found a way to tell his own friends about this relationship yet. Maybe if he demonstrated that it was possible to coexist within Harry’s circles, receiving neutral nods from people like Longbottom or cool detachment from the Weasleys, maybe then it would feel real enough to talk about at that point.

“I thank you for the welcome,” he replied to Weasley, with a tiny, gracious bow of his head.

Seemingly convinced that Draco and Weasley weren’t about to passive-aggressively murder each other, Harry sat down next to Draco and began to catch up with his friends. Weasley related the trials and tribulations of working at his family’s Wizarding Wheezes store during summer holidays, and rhapsodized about a new edible wand that his brother was developing. Granger listed off a number of essays she had in progress for the magical law degree she was pursuing, worrying at her lip and glancing at her bag as she clearly (to Draco’s eyes) wondered whether she should be working on them instead of relaxing at the beach with friends.

“And what are you doing with your vacation?” Ron wanted to know, jealousy evident in his voice. “I can’t remember the last time I took time off from the shop. There’s always something important that needs dealing with.”

Harry’s eyes briefly flicked to Draco’s, but he smiled faintly as he said “Oh, you know. I’m mostly just puttering around the house and distracting Draco as he’s writing.”

Granger made a face. “Sounds like our library sessions at Hogwarts. I swear I spent half the time just trying to get you to focus.”

“Did he always transfigure small items on the table when he started getting bored?” Draco asked with a meaningful look at Harry, who pretended not to notice.

Weasley laughed. “Merlin, yes. One time he did all of Hermione’s spare quills before she noticed anything.”

“So he’s always been a menace unless he’s constantly entertained,” Draco said drily. “How fortunate for me.”

“Not sorry,” Harry said, leaning closer and kissing Draco’s shoulder through his shirt. Draco watched Granger and Weasley’s eyes follow the motion, their faces betraying nothing, and sighed internally. At least they weren’t openly snogging, he supposed. Better to ease Harry’s friends into the casual displays of affection that tended to occur when Harry was in his vicinity.

The conversation between Harry and his friends resumed around him while he arranged his hand next to Harry’s on the beach blanket, allowing their fingers to barely touch. Now he just had to manage the rest of the afternoon with Harry’s friends without any mistakes, and preferably without drawing too much attention to himself. Merlin, he thought, it would have been so much easier to stay home and work on my essay.

Draco’s first mortification of the spirit occurred after they’d been lounging for about an hour. As soon as Harry hadn’t been paying attention, Draco had removed his shoes – the sand wasn’t that bad under his toes after all, but he didn’t feel like admitting that out loud yet. He’d also taken the opportunity to change into swim trunks, as it gave him an excuse to be apart from the group briefly and he figured he would be going in the ocean at some point. The afternoon sun was just reaching its peak, and the heat radiating off of the sand was breaching the perimeter of the shade that most of the group were sitting in, with the exception of Longbottom and his Adonis-like figure that he apparently felt the need to flaunt as he tanned.

Harry nudged his and Draco’s shoulders together. “Come on, enough of that now,” he said, indicating the textbook that was sitting open on Draco’s lap. Draco wasn’t even really focusing on it; he was listening to an argument that the two Weasleys were having about a hypothetical three-way Quidditch match between the Cannons, the Harpies, and Puddlemere United. Most of their opinions were wrong, of course, but it was still entertaining.

“Some of us have responsibilities,” he grumbled, just for the form of it, really. “Some of us feel the drive to better ourselves and reach new intellectual heights.”

Harry grinned and jostled him further. “Draco, put the book away and come swimming,” he said easily. “This is an important part of your beach education.”

“Fine,” Draco sighed, closing his textbook and placing it back in his bag. “I’m getting too warm out here anyway.”

And just like that, Harry reached up and pulled his shirt over his head, exposing the vast expanse of his warm brown skin to Draco’s gaze. Draco felt his mouth dry up as he watched Harry complete the motion, the muscles in his broad back making a brief appearance as he set aside the garment. Harry turned to reply to something that someone else had said as he reached up and undid his bun, allowing his black hair to cascade out of its constraints and tumble down to his shoulders, and Draco yearned to run his fingers through it and make Harry’s eyes close in delight. He wanted to press himself up against Harry, run his hands through the dark hair on his chest, down the flat expanse of his abs and stomach, feel him press back against Draco’s-

Harry laughed at something Draco didn’t hear and turned back to face him in time to catch the look that was presumably plastered across Draco’s face for the world to see. “See something you like?” he asked lightly, and Draco licked his dry lips before he could stop himself. Harry’s eyes darkened, and though Draco was still dressed in a loose cotton shirt along with his swim trunks, he could feel Harry’s gaze roam his clothed body lasciviously. His cheeks burned, but he raised his chin and reclined on the beach towel a little more languidly, meeting Harry’s eyes when they finally returned to his face. Someone else said “Merlin, this is worse than when we were at Hogwarts” and Draco ignored the laughter that followed and very determinedly did not think about what those words implied.

“Weren’t you going to go in the water?” Draco asked innocently. “You’re looking a little heated at the moment.”

Harry chuckled, then suddenly leaned down and scooped Draco up in his arms. “You’re right,” he declared over Draco’s noises of protest. “Let’s not waste any more time.” The rest of the group hooted with laughter around them.

“Unhand me!” Draco cried as he futilely tried to wrestle his way out of the bridal carry. “Villain! Scoundrel! Brigand!”

“Mmm, yeah, talk dirty to me, Draco,” Harry said in his infuriating way as he staggered towards the surf. “You know what I like. And Merlin, don’t make me drop you! You’re worse than a kneazle.”

“You’re a menace.” Draco squirmed some more in Harry’s grip just to make his life harder. “Why would you pick up somebody who’s taller than you are? Are you just trying to show off your terrible, over-developed muscles?”

“You’re not taller than I am,” Harry said dismissively.

“I am! This is a well-established fact!”

“Your fancy shoes don’t count.”

“Your feeble attempts to justify your lies won’t distract me from your manhandling!” Channelling his mother, Draco affected an air of aloofness. “If I’m going in the water, I’m going in under my own power. You may put me down at any time.” He fluttered a hand casually. “Over there looks perfectly serviceable.”

Harry huffed a laugh before collapsing to his knees and dumping Draco unceremoniously on the sand. “There, happy?”

“The ride was uncomfortable and the customer service was poor,” Draco replied haughtily as he pushed himself upright. “On the whole, I think you’d be better off finding a new line of work.”

Harry was still catching his breath, but Draco saw him smile. “How do you want to do this?” he asked. “Getting in the water, I mean.”

Draco sighed. “I expect you’re just going to run into it full tilt like you do everything else.”

Harry’s smile grew wider. “I think you should as well.”

“Fine,” Draco said, enjoying the way Harry’s head whipped around in surprise to look at him.

“Fine?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“We’ll go in together. I’m sure it will be bracing.”

“Last one in has to buy the other ice cream,” Harry declared. He began to limber up in an ostentatious manner, stretching out one calf then the other.

“I agree to your rules,” Draco said, and as Harry put his weight on one leg in order to stretch the other behind him, Draco reached out and shoved him off balance. Harry was sent sprawling to the sand as Draco sprinted the remaining distance to the surf. He could hear Harry spluttering behind him, then became distracted as his feet and ankles made first contact with the cold water. He pulled up short as it reached his knees, dancing from one foot to the other, trying not to prolong contact with the frigid tide.

“I changed my mind,” he called out over his shoulder as he heard Harry approach from behind. “This was a better idea in theory. You should just go and get me that ice cream now.”

“You’re an enormous git, you know that?” Harry said conversationally as he rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around his stomach. Draco pretended not to notice that Harry didn’t seem fazed by the temperature of the waves at all. “Come on,” Harry coaxed, and he leaned against Draco’s back with enough force to make him take a step forward to avoid being pushed over entirely. “It’ll take too long if you wait for it to feel nice after each step. Just rip the bandage off all at once!”

Draco shook his head. “I shouldn’t have stopped. I’ve accepted my fate; I am cursed to slowly freeze in the shallows. I’ll never go in under my own power now.”

“Oh is that all it will take, then?” Harry asked innocently, and Draco suddenly found himself pitching forward through the air, and just before he hit the waves he realized-

“You threw me!” he cried accusingly as soon as he resurfaced, after the initial shock of full immersion wore off. He caught Harry wading deeper into the surf and grinning at him, then Harry dove into a wave in one fluid motion, stretching out his long arms and briefly arching his back before he disappeared under the surface. Draco was still submerged up to his chest, his hair dripping as his shirt clung to him, feeling the sun drying his face, and either his body was already going numb or the water was actually starting to feel pleasant.

All of a sudden Harry’s head broke through the surface of the ocean a few dozen metres away. He shook his head, sending a shower of droplets towards Draco, then pushed his long dark hair out of his face as he looked around. When he spotted Draco he swam over lazily, smiling all the while. “Isn’t this nice?” he asked.

“Nice for ice sculptures, perhaps,” Draco said, feeling contrary.

Harry swam right up to Draco and put his head on his shoulder again. “Oh hush,” he said. “I’m glad you came in.”

“Like you gave me any choice.” Draco paused for a moment as Harry’s arms snuck around him again, followed shortly afterwards by his legs around Draco’s waist. “Let me guess – you’re being extra cuddly right now because you can’t see anything without your glasses on?”

“You can’t prove anything,” Harry said loftily. “Now come on, I remember there’s a sandbar somewhere around here. It’s your turn to carry me there.”

They were standing in line for ice cream when Draco heard a familiar voice say his name and his stomach sank.

“Draco?” Pansy asked from behind them, sounding surprised.

Draco stiffened, but Harry didn’t appear to notice and kept up his stream-of-consciousness consideration of which ice cream flavour to get. Draco darted a glance over his shoulder and saw Pansy on the path from the apparition point, wearing a broad-brimmed sun hat and enormous sunglasses that covered her eyes, making her reaction impossible to read. She definitely wasn’t smiling, however.

“What do you think, Draco?” Harry asked. “I think you should go for the peacock flavour. It seems appropriate.” He jostled their shoulders together, but when Draco didn’t react he turned to see what Draco was looking at. “What’s up?”

Pansy tilted her head contemplatively as she got a look at Harry’s face. “Draco... and Potter,” she said finally. “Fascinating. We thought you were just ignoring our invitation. We didn’t realize you had your own plans.”

“Hello Parkinson,” Harry said easily, like Draco’s world wasn’t about to collapse around him. Just then the beach-goer in front of them collected her ice cream and walked away, and it was their turn to order.

“What can I get for you?” the perky teenager behind the counter asked them with a smile as they shuffled forward.

“I’ll have a cone of raspberry swirl,” Harry replied.

“One scoop or two?”

Draco was still looking back over his shoulder. “Who’s we?” he called to Pansy nervously.

“Two scoops, please.”

“Waffle cone or regular?”

Still gazing at him impassively, Pansy motioned her over shoulder just as Blaise, Theo, and Goyle rounded the bend in the path. Draco’s stomach lurched.

“Oh, a waffle cone, thanks.”

“And your friend?”

“Your turn,” Harry said, before Draco felt an elbow dig into his side.

“What?” he asked, distracted, as he turned back to face Harry.

“What are you having today, then?” the teen behind the counter asked, still sounding inappropriately perky given the imminent Pansy-shaped disaster.

All of the ice cream flavours had fled from his memory. He looked up at the board with the flavour names written on it in chalk, but they didn’t make sense to him any more. “Could you... just order for me,” he told Harry. “I need to... there’s something I have to take care of.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Sure,” he said. “Should I-”

“I’ll come find you,” Draco interrupted, and hated himself immediately.

Harry nodded slowly. “Ok,” he said. “If your ice cream starts to melt, though, I can’t promise I won’t eat it.” He reached down and squeezed Draco’s hand unexpectedly. “You do what you need to.”

Draco smiled gratefully, then let go of Harry’s hand and stepped out of the line. Pansy was still standing in the path with her arms crossed, her bag of beach paraphernalia resting on the ground next to her. The rest of the Slytherins, his friends, were just reaching her and caught sight of him as he approached their group.

“Draco?” Goyle asked in surprise.

“Hi Greg,” Draco said. He nodded at the others. “Blaise, Theo.” He turned back to Pansy. “I swear I haven’t been intentionally ignoring you. I never saw any invitation.”

“The owl dropped it off at your flat,” Pansy said, frowning. “Last week.”

Draco felt his cheeks burn. “I... haven’t really spent any time in my flat these past few weeks.”

Pansy lowered her sunglasses slightly and regarded him suspiciously over the top of the lenses. “Draco, tell me this doesn’t have anything to do with you standing with Potter in the ice cream line?”

Theo snickered. Blaise raised his eyebrows.

“Potter’s here?” Goyle rumbled, looking around.

“Pansy...” Draco began, but then found himself floundering. How to explain that he hadn’t wanted to ruin something by talking about it, by identifying and labelling it? That at first it had seemed too casual and embarrassing to mention, and later too serious to have not already brought it up?

“Not another word,” she said sharply, and slid her arm through his. “I’m disappointed, Draco. I thought we were close.” She began to walk down the path back to the main beach area, and Draco let himself be pulled along with the group.

“Really, Draco?” Blaise asked. “Still Potter, after all this time?”

“It wasn’t like I went looking for him,” Draco argued, feeling his cheeks flush. “The Auror headquarters are just down the road from the university, and we started.. bumping into each other.” Theo snickered again, the git, and Draco found himself flushing. “Not like.. I mean...” Come to think of it, it had mostly started with, well, bumping into each other, exactly the way Theo’s laughter implied. Draco had spent several weeks revelling in it while simultaneously dreading Harry realizing what a mistake he was making.

“Wait,” Pansy said, in clipped tones. “How long has this been going on for?”

Draco winced. “Um... three and a half... months?”

“Months?” Pansy shrieked. “All that time, and not a word to any of us?”

“Probably had a good reason,” Goyle said loyally, which really didn’t make Draco feel any better.

“Anyways,” Draco continued hurriedly, “Harry only just told all his friends, too. About me, I mean. And now we’re here with them.”

“Well, I suppose that means you’re not just Potter’s side-piece,” Pansy said inscrutably. “You’re worth more than that, darling.”

Draco couldn’t help but recall how willing he had been to settle for being Potter’s anything, early on. Trust Pansy to make that connection immediately. “I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he said drily, and she patted his wrist in a manner that was both condescending and also reassuring.

Chatting as they made their way to the crowded main beach area, Draco found himself slipping back easily into the familiar rhythms of his friends. It had been a while since they’d gathered like this, and he realized that he missed it – Blaise’s arch amusement at everything, Pansy’s cutting wit, Greg’s solid, familiar presence, and Theo’s easy laughter and tendency to ramble. There was a lot to be said for being around people who didn’t make you constantly worry that you were making a terrible impression. He caught himself wondering, not for the first time, whether there could ever truly be a space for him in Harry’s life or if all he had to look forward to was a future of cool looks and awkward attempts at conversation.

They passed by the Gryffindors and hangers-on while looking for a place to call their own, and Blaise eyed the pack of Harry’s friends dubiously. “So we were snubbed today for that?” he asked.

“Our darling Draco is mingling with society now,” Pansy said before Draco could figure out how to respond. “He was always a climber. No time for the likes of us.”

“Lay off,” Greg said protectively, surprising Draco. “I think it’s nice.”

“You do?” Draco asked, bewildered.

“Yeah, you always used to go on about Potter. It’s about time you did something about it. Proud of you.”

Draco had no idea what to say to that, but Theo laughed, free and easy.

“Here,” Pansy said decisively as they came to some open sand a bit beyond Harry and his friends. “This will do nicely.”

Theo and Blaise laid out some blankets they’d brought while Greg unshrunk several beach umbrellas and arranged them for maximal shelter, Pansy standing by and overseeing the work officiously. Draco moved to stand next to her, nervously smoothing his wind-ruffled hair. “I really did mean to tell you,” he said quietly. “I just hadn’t worked out how or when. It doesn’t exactly feel real yet.”

“I suppose I shall have to satisfy myself with that,” Pansy said, sounding almost back to her usual level of scorn. “And I will expect much more detail in the future.” She looked at him over her sunglasses meaningfully. “Now, not that I don’t enjoy your contrition, but shouldn’t you be over there glad-handing some Gryffindors?”

“I just miss this,” Draco said. “It’s easier than, you know. All of that. It’s kind of exhausting.”

“That was Granger and Weasley back there, right?” Pansy asked, looking over her shoulder at the Gryffindors. “And this is your first time out together? Draco, you’re practically meeting the parents! Get back there and show you mean business.”

Draco sighed. “So you’re kicking me out?”

“It’s for your own good, and you’ll thank me later when you are relating all the details. Now go win your man.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in fits and starts. Draco kept his textbooks close to hand; sometimes the others in the group seemed to forget he was there, leaving Draco to observe the tight-knit friendships from close quarters. Harry’s friends were... expansive. By and large, they were all physically affectionate with each other, which helped explain where Harry got it from. It was tiring to be around, honestly.

Sometimes Harry would try and drag Draco into a conversation with the group, asking him leading questions about how his potions ingredients research could benefit from some exotic flora that Longbottom was apparently studying in class, or saying things like “Draco’s got me hooked on this wireless murder mystery series called Inspector Gorse. Have you heard of it?”

This caused the girl Weasley to let out a groan, while the older Weasley said “Mate, that show is older than we are. Mum’s mad about it.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s new to me. How’d you find out about it, Draco?”

And then Draco had to figure out how to explain that he loved listening to it every week with his mother while growing up, without bringing up his mother, or his childhood, or the fact that the show represented something about all of those things that he wasn’t ready to articulate yet. These days he liked to turn it on while writing essays about potions ingredients and let its familiar rhythm wash over him, giving his ears something to focus on without having to devote much attention to it. Luckily, both Weasleys immediately began doing terrible impressions of the main characters and recurring tropes, which caused the rest of the group to dissolve into laughter and forget about him once more.

By supper time, many of the families visiting the beach had packed up and gone home, leaving more space for the crowd around Draco to gradually expand and fill. He was sitting on a blanket in the late afternoon sun with Harry’s head in his lap, and he hadn’t moved in at least fifteen minutes because Harry appeared to be gently dozing. There was something soothing about being used as a pillow by Harry Potter, he concluded – he found his usual restless, nervous energy was subdued, and he didn’t even feel any urge to pull out a textbook. He gently brushed a strand of Harry’s hair off of his face that had escaped the haphazard bun and gazed at his boyfriend’s features, marvelling that he could actually bring himself to use the word boyfriend. He took in Harry’s warm brown skin, contrasting with the dark, thick eyebrows that matched his hair, and the five o’clock shadow that was already making itself known on his jaw. Frankly, all of Harry’s hair grew with a recklessness that matched the man’s personality.

He abruptly realized that he had been studying Harry’s face for far longer than was polite in company and glanced up, only to find Granger looking at him thoughtfully. His cheeks burned and he quickly moved his hand away from Harry’s face. However, all she said was, “I haven’t seen him like this in a long time.”

“What, asleep?” Draco asked drily. “It seems improbable, I know.”

Granger laughed. “Relaxed,” she replied. “He hasn’t really... let his guard down, ever since. You know. I noticed a change in him over the past few months, but I never expected you to be the cause. No offence; just that with Hogwarts and everything...”

Draco’s stomach twisted, but he forced a polite smile. “Yes, of course. It is me, after all.” A gentle breeze caught another strand of hair on Harry’s head and blew it over his eyes. Draco itched to deal with it, but he restrained himself. He wouldn’t make any more of a spectacle out of himself than he already had.

Granger tilted her head and continued to look at him, as if considering a puzzle. Finally, she said: “I only meant that relaxed is not a word that anybody would have associated with Harry at school where you were concerned. This is a nice change.”

Harry’s breathing suddenly changed and he stirred in Draco’s lap. Draco watched as he blinked his eyes into focus. “Hey, Draco,” Harry mumbled, smiling up at him fuzzily.

Draco smiled back and, throwing caution to the wind, reached out to remove the wayward hairs again, gently brushing his hand along Harry’s cheek on the way. “Good afternoon you big lazy lump,” he said, sounding horrifyingly fond to his own ears. “Granger was just explaining how much better off you are with me.”

Granger snorted, but she didn’t correct him.

“’s true,” Harry said, yawning. “You’re pretty great.” He rubbed his face insistently against Draco’s hand, the stubble trailing roughly across his palm. Draco left it in place for Harry’s benefit as he rummaged with his free hand in the bag beside him.

“Crisp?” Draco offered, pulling out a small packet of salt and vinegar flavour. In his experience, Harry was usually peckish after a nap but took a while to realize it on his own.

“Mmm, yes please,” Harry said. He closed his eyes again and opened his mouth expectantly, wriggling around a bit to adjust his position in Draco’s lap.

“Merlin, you’re like a baby bird, you know that?” Draco said, but he still opened the bag, grabbed a handful, and proceeded to feed them to Harry, one by one. Harry made satisfied crunching sounds as he chewed, and every so often Draco would pop one into his own mouth as well.

By the time that half the packet was consumed, Harry already seemed to be halfway to dozing off again and was taking longer and longer to eat each new crisp that Draco fed him. A shadow loomed over them, and Draco craned his neck to see Pansy standing behind him, regarding them with a tiny smile.

“Well, isn’t this a horrifyingly domestic tableau,” she said, sitting down on the blanket next to him.

Sounding half-awake, Harry answered, “Mhm.” Draco had the irrational urge to kiss him on the forehead, but he ruthlessly smothered it.

“Theo wants me to convince this group to take part in beach quidditch,” Pansy said, sounding bored. “I told him he should do his own dirty work since I’m not going to play, but he said that I shouldn’t miss Draco and Potter being all couple-y. I have to say, it was worth the walk over here.”

“Beach quidditch?” Harry asked, opening his eyes again. “I like the sound of that.”

Draco sighed. “Tell Theo that he’s not getting a birthday gift this year.”

“Same answer, Draco,” Pansy smirked. “Do your own dirty work. But if only your fourth year self could see you now! Or fifth year, for that matter. Or-”

“Am I getting the correct impression that Malfoy had Harry on his mind a lot in school?” Granger suddenly asked.

Pansy laughed. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Interesting,” Granger said, eying Harry and Draco with renewed interest.

“So, beach quidditch?” Draco asked hurriedly, looking down at Harry. “That sounds like a good idea right now.”

“Have fun, boys!” Pansy said lightly. “I think I’ll stay here and catch up with Granger. It seems we have some experiences in common.”

The final group that assembled for beach quidditch consisted of Harry, Draco, Weasley, girl Weasley, Theo, Blaise, Hannah Abbot, and Dean Thomas, with Lovegood acting as the referee. Draco was still unsure about that last choice, but girl Weasley suggested it and the other Gryffindors seemed to think it was an excellent idea.

“Draco and I are seekers,” Harry announced once the teams were divided up. “Right, Draco?”

“Harry, have you played beach quidditch before?” Dean asked before Draco could answer.

Harry shrugged. “It’s quidditch on a beach, right?” He looked around. “What brooms are we using?”

“Mate, there are no brooms in beach quidditch,” Weasley said, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

“Huh.” Harry looked confused for a moment, then soldiered on resolutely. “Still, Draco and I are seekers.” He turned to Draco and whispered, “You’re going down.”

“What have you gotten us into now?” Draco whispered back.

“Scared?”

“You’re so juvenile sometimes,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. He still felt his pulse speed up, but there was no reason to let Harry know that.

Weasley led Harry off to build a goal post out of sand for their team along with girl Weasley and Theo. This left Draco to meet Blaise, Hannah, and Dean at their end of the designated pitch to do the same and strategize.

“Alright,” Dean said, immediately taking charge. “Malfoy’s seeker, which leaves the rest of us doing the hard work. Blaise, any chance you’re good at tackling?”

The tall, slender man looked askance. “Sadly, I am told that my talents lie in other directions.”

“I’ve been practicing,” Hannah said without glancing up from the pile of sand that she was shaping with her wand.

Dean looked delighted at this revelation. “Love it. Ok, Hannah, you’re our bludger. Just take down whoever on their team has the quaffle as soon as you can. Blaise, do you prefer keeper or chaser? I’m good with either.”

Blaise considered for a moment as he helped wet down the sand that Hannah was packing into a Quidditch hoop at hip level. “Keeper,” he decided. “I don’t know that I much feel like running today.”

Dean nodded. “I’ll try not to pull you up unless we really need you, in that case.” He cracked his knuckles, hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation. “Here’s our strategy: quick and hard. Don’t give them any time to breathe.”

“So, just to be clear,” Draco said, “what exactly do the seekers do in beach Quidditch? Is there even a snitch?”

“Oh, there’s a snitch alright,” Hannah replied. “You’ll be faffing about in the water trying to catch it. Pesky thing.”

Draco sighed. “Perfect,” he said. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

Lovegood had the two teams gather in the middle of the pitch. “Let’s keep this match clean and fair,” she said sternly. She undermined the effect, in Draco’s opinion, by following up with: “However, if you think another player has fouled you, take some time to talk it over with them before making a formal complaint. See if you can agree on a suitable resolution between yourselves. It’s important to approach justice from a position of mutual respect, and only resort to pre-existing authority and power structures when all other avenues fail.”

“I’ll show them mutual respect,” Weasley said with a grin before he cracked his knuckles ostentatiously. “I’ll mutually respect all over them.”

“Lewd,” girl Weasley said, deadpan, causing Dean Thomas to snort in amusement.

“Was not!” Weasley retorted. “It was menacing. Look at them, they’re all uneasy now.”

“Penalty to Ron’s team,” Luna announced. “No intimidation allowed.”

“What?” Weasley cried. “But the match hasn’t even started! And what happened to not resorting to existing power thingies?”

“There are times when the application of power is the quickest means to overcome evil,” she said serenely. “And it seems it would be more evil to allow evil to occur through inaction, rather than wielding such power. The penalty stands.” At this point, Draco realized this would likely be one of the stranger quidditch matches he would ever participate in.

Faster than anybody could follow, the snitch shot out of Luna’s hands toward the water, pausing only when it reached several metres into the surf to briefly hover over the waves before diving beneath the surface. Harry and Draco exchanged a look of anticipation before they were both tearing off across the beach in pursuit. Chaos erupted around them – girl Weasley tried to block Dean Thomas as he made a dash with the Quaffle onto Harry’s team’s side, but Hannah Abbot planted herself in her way, leaving Dean to size up Theo and look for a way to the hoop that Weasley was guarding.

Draco caught most of this action over his shoulder as he raced Harry to the last-known sighting of the snitch. When he turned his attention back to Harry, he found him in the process of removing his shirt as they ran.

“Really?” Draco cried. “Do you just look for any opportunity to strip off?”

“What, afraid you’ll be distracted?” Harry responded infuriatingly, then he threw his shirt in Draco’s face.

“Pfaugh! Of course you would resort to underhanded tricks. Any victory of yours will be tainted!”

“It’ll still be my victory, though.” Harry made it to the waves first, laughing as Draco paused to whip the shirt off his face and throw it onto the sand behind him, before running into the surf to catch up.

“Merlin!” Draco exclaimed as the water sloshed past his upper thighs. “It got colder!” He began to cast about in the water with his arms, hoping to make contact with the small, darting snitch. He didn’t hold out much hope for being able to spot it – the ocean was dark and cloudy in the late afternoon light.

A shout of triumph from Harry’s team drew their attention momentarily – girl Weasley had apparently scored on Blaise and was performing some kind of victory dance, meanwhile Dean appeared to be wrestling in the sand with Theo while Weasley looked on and Hannah ran to retrieve the quaffle. Luna seemed to be distracted by a bird that was circling the pitch.

“Better hurry, Draco,” Harry warned. “The window in which you could find the snitch and still win is rapidly closing.”

Draco remained silent, focusing his attention on searching out a glint of gold beneath the waves and ignoring Harry’s taunts. Both he and Harry kept one eye on the other person as they searched in case of a sudden spotting, but that just meant that neither strayed too far from the other. Behind them on the beach, the Quidditch game continued apace – Blaise made a series of saves before missing a shot from Theo, and Dean and Hannah’s offence yielded several points for their team. Lovegood appeared to have abandoned her role of referee-in-name in favour of investigating a family of voles that lived in the dunes abutting the pitch.

After what must have been 15 minutes of fruitless exploration of the waves but felt much longer, Draco heard Harry sigh. “I feel ridiculous,” he said, and Draco looked over to see Harry slowly turning in a circle, casting about in the water with long strokes of his arms.

“It’s a decent impression of the giant squid at Hogwarts,” Draco said, eyeing him critically. Harry sent a small wave splashing towards him in return which Draco nimbly dodged with a laugh. Glancing over his shoulder at the action back on the beach, Draco verified that the players were all focused on the tackling and passing, and he moved a bit closer to Harry. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about that vacation thing from earlier,” he began quietly.

“Really?” Harry asked, disbelieving. “You think this is the best time to bring that up?”

Draco motioned at the turbulent water around him. “It’s not like we’re having much luck right now,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll have trouble multitasking.”

“Fine,” Harry said resignedly. “Go ahead.”

“Why am I, of all people, the first one to learn about this big dark secret of yours?” Draco asked.

“What?” Harry looked taken aback.

“I mean, we just spent an entire afternoon with a bunch of people who very clearly care about you. Why haven’t you talked with any of them about what’s going on?”

“I guess I just haven’t really got around to it yet. I don’t want them to worry.”

“Is there something to be worried about?”

“No! It’s just that I’m just figuring some stuff out on my own.”

“Ah, of course, stuff. That definitely does not sound worrying,” Draco said drily. He made a halfhearted attempt at sweeping his arms through the water to see if the snitch happened to be next to him, but didn’t encounter any resistance.

Harry huffed. “Look, you asked why you’re the first one to learn about it. It’s not like I chose you or anything. You’ve been virtually living at Grimmauld Place with me for the past few weeks, you’re observant, and I’m not exactly great at hiding things.”

“And why exactly is this administrative leave a secret, then?”

“Because it’s... it’s embarrassing! This isn’t a reward. It’s not like the Aurors said ‘you’re too good at your job, so we’re going to force you to take a break and let others catch up’. I’ve been on desk duty for the past four months because Robards said it would give me ‘a proper appreciation for timely and accurate paperwork’, but it’s awful. And the field work before that wasn’t much better, really – I guess I thought it would all be chases and raids and duels and things like that, but it’s mostly just observation and questioning. Once in a while you bust someone for selling counterfeit charms, or restricted potions, or something useless like that. It just feels like such a waste, sometimes.”

“There you go,” Draco said. “Was that so difficult to say out loud?”

“It’s different with you,” Harry replied, looking away. “There aren’t the same kind of... expectations.”

“I’m glad to learn you put such stock in my opinion,” Draco said drily.

“That’s not what I mean,” Harry said. “Everybody’s got these ideas about me.”

“Ideas about the Chosen One, you mean?”

Harry’s search of the waves around him intensified as he cast about him with his hands furiously. “It’s not even that,” he said, still not looking at Draco. “I told everyone I wanted to be an Auror. I did make-up NEWTs that would get me into Auror training, even though they offered me special placement without them. I went through the training, and it was tough! I’ve been a full Auror for two years now. It... it shouldn’t be like this. I should have figured out how to be good at it. How to enjoy it. Instead I dread going to work every day.”

Harry had unconsciously stopped wading about while they had been talking, and Draco had also stopped moving to better listen to Harry, and he now found himself gently, persistently shivering. Earlier they’d walked out until the water was up to his shoulders, but then a particularly forceful wave had spooked him so he’d retreated until his waist was back in the open air. Unfortunately, this now meant that he was exposed to the breezes that felt progressively more and more chilly.

“Well,” Draco said as he tried to quiet his chattering teeth. “That does clear some things up, I suppose.” He swiped an arm half-heartedly through the water, praying the snitch would happen to be hovering right there. Unsurprisingly, there was still nothing. “I can see why it might feel like you’re disappointing your loyal fans.”

Draco heard Harry move up to stand beside him, then looked over to see Harry looking at him with a concerned expression. “Are you doing ok?” he asked.

“Never better,” Draco declared, but this was undercut by the chattering of his teeth intensifying noticeably.

Harry snorted. “Ok, I declare a brief truce,” he said, stepping behind Draco and wrapping his arms around his torso. “Does this help at all?”

Draco’s back felt as if a warming charm had been applied to it. “How are you doing that?” he asked suspiciously. “You’re not even wearing a shirt. How does an amateur nudist produce that much heat?” He leaned back into the embrace, regardless, because he wasn’t a fool and it felt nice.

Harry shrugged. “I was a very cold child sometimes,” he said. “I guess I found a way to deal with that.”

There was a certain tone of voice that emerged when Harry made oblique references to his childhood, Draco noticed. He had heard rumours, of course, but it felt too bold, too pushy to try and uncover what Harry only ever hinted at. It was yet another facet of Harry Potter that Draco had never expected to uncover, let alone make him want to bundle Harry up safe from those who would wish him harm.

“In that case,” Draco said, resting his against Harry’s shoulder, “you should produce as much heat as you want. I’ll just have to resign myself to the sight of your skin, I suppose. Who could believe the sacrifices that I make for you?”

Harry laughed. “I’m pretty sure I saw something other than resignation earlier,” he said, and Draco could hear the grin.

“How dare you impugn my virtue!” Draco said in mock outrage. He turned around so they were facing one another, with Harry’s arms still wrapped around him and holding them close together. He placed one finger at the bottom of Harry’s collarbone and began to gently trail it down his chest. “I have never had an impure thought about any of this.”

Harry brought their heads close enough together that Draco could sense the barest brush of their skin. “Liar,” he whispered in Draco’s ear, his breath a gentle caress that caused him to shudder. Their bodies pressed together involuntarily, and as Draco let his head loll backwards, Harry began to plant gentle kisses along the length of his exposed neck.

“Hey!” Weasley called from the sandy Quidditch pitch. “No fraternizing with the other team!”

Harry flipped him off without looking, but abandoned his teasing of Draco’s skin with a reluctant sigh. “There’s more where that came from later,” he said, his voice low and rough. Draco’s breath hitched, and he decided that Harry’s friends were horrible on general principle.

“Promises, promises,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. It was a difficult thing to do with Harry looking at him like that. A sudden glint near the surface of the water just visible over Harry’s shoulder caught his attention, however, and he hastily schooled his features to avoid letting the hope show on his face.

“What is it?” Harry asked, presumably seeing something change in Draco’s expression. He was far too observant for his own good, really. “Are they still looking at us?” He made as if to glance over his shoulder, and Draco really couldn’t let that happen, so he reached out and grabbed Harry’s face with both hands and pulled him back into a hard kiss.

Harry seemed caught off guard at first but he quickly fell into Draco’s rhythm, opening his mouth slightly as he allowed Draco to snog him firmly. Their noses bumped together as Draco pressed his advantage, his tongue darting out to taste Harry’s top lip, once, twice. He felt Harry respond as the kiss deepened, felt the other man’s hands grasp his arse through his swim trunks, clutching, pulling him closer.

Draco wrenched his face away just as it was getting good, leaving Harry slightly out of breath and wide-eyed. “What was that for?” Harry asked, still not letting releasing his grip on Draco’s backside.

“An apology,” Draco said, before sweeping a leg behind Harry’s while placing a hand on his chest and pushing. Harry cried out as he tumbled backwards, releasing Draco in order to break his fall, and Draco dove over him, intent on grasping the snitch that was hovering a few metres away in the water. He landed in the surf within an arm’s reach of it, quickly snatching it up before turning around to face Harry triumphantly. “Ha!” he cried. “Victory is mine!”

“You’re an enormous git,” Harry said, lying on his back as the waves washed to and fro around them. “I can’t believe I like you.”

Draco got to his feet and waved the snitch at the players on the beach. “I’ve got it!” he shouted, which was greeted by a chorus of groans and whoops from the other members of their respective teams.

“Took you long enough,” Blaise called out, and Draco flipped him off in response.

Draco walked over to where Harry was still lying in the waves and reached out to haul him upright. “I’d say I feel bad about doing that,” he said, “but honestly, I’d do just about anything to beat you at Quidditch.”

Harry laughed and jostled their shoulders together. “See if I let you sleep in my bed tonight. It’s the sofa for you.”

“Well, I suppose I have nothing left to lose in that case,” Draco said. “I have a revelation for you, Harry – sometimes people don’t like their jobs!” Harry snorted, but Draco continued: “And I don’t mean that you should suck it up and accept that you hate what you do for a living, even though that’s exactly the kind of self-sacrificing idiocy you might be tempted towards. People leave jobs they don’t like! It happens all the time!”

“I guess so,” Harry said. It came out half-heartedly, though, like he wasn’t convinced yet.

“Did you make an unbreakable vow that you would be an Auror for life? Do you think your life should be held hostage to an idea you had when you were, what, 17? 16 years of age?” Draco asked. “Are you actually making the world a better place if the only reason you keep enduring something is because you can’t bear the thought of giving it up?”

Harry stopped walking, and Draco felt himself pulled up short by Harry’s grip on his arm. He turned to face Harry, trying to see if his words had struck any kind of chord.

“You know,” Harry finally said, hesitantly, “when you put it like that, I guess it sounds kind of silly. What I’ve been doing, I mean.”

“Yes, well, I’m used to that from you by now,” Draco said loftily. “My expectations of the Chosen One are quite low these days. However, if you’re looking for sympathy, I’m pretty sure your friends only want what’s best for you, and you should really try talking to them.”

Harry smiled. “I think Hermione’s right. You’re good for me.”

“I’m not,” Draco said, immediately reverting to contrariness as he felt himself flush. “Anyone could tell you these things.” He nevertheless allowed himself to feel a little bit of the hope that was nervously bubbling inside him. Perhaps this boyfriend thing (boyfriend!) might actually work out in the long term.

“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Harry asked, and he linked their arms together. “Come on, let’s not leave the others waiting.”