emmagrant01 | FIC: Left My Heart (8/11)

Note:This is the rough draft of this fic! Please go here for the final version.

Title: Left My Heart
Author: Emma Grant
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Please ask -- I'll say yes!
Pairing: Harry/Draco (and some Harry/OMC)
Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to find him.
Warnings: WIP, though I update weekly.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, not making any money, no infringement intended.
Note 1: Set present day, February 2004. Thanks to

jedirita,

snowqueenofhoth, and

wyoming_knott for the betas! Special thanks to Rita for suggesting a major rewrite of an important scene last night, and then staying up past midnight to read over it for me.
Note 2: There's a big fangirly nod to

jedirita in this part! Her fans will know it when they see it. *smooches Rita*
Feedback: Yes, please!!! Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to leave me such thoughtful comments. I'm completely floored by the response!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

+++++

February 10, 2004

Harry was awake at 5:30, head pounding as much as his heart. He stared at the ceiling, occasionally glancing at the clock to see how many minutes had ticked by since the last time he'd looked. His stomach was churning with a blend of anxiety and hangover.

At 5:45, the phone rang, and he sat straight up. He let it ring three times before he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Harry, it's me. I just wanted to make certain you were awake."

Harry flopped back onto the mattress. "Of course I'm awake, Hermione. I'm lying here in a complete panic."

She snorted. "You should be nervous. All hell broke loose here yesterday when Fallin got your fax."

"Oh god..."

"I think I talked some sense into him, though. Harry, just promise me you'll listen to him, all right? You're not going to get everything you wanted, but I think you'll be able to live with it."

"Okay," Harry breathed. His mind was completely blank. What had he asked for again?

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. No. Fuck."

"Cho said you called here last night." It sounded like she was trying to change the subject, to calm him down.

"Yes, I did. How was The Burrow?"

"We missed you. I told them you were doing important work out of the country."

"How'd the kids do?"

"Fine. They kept talking about visiting Daddy, the whole time on the train." She paused.

Harry wished he could be more sympathetic, but his head was throbbing. He had no idea how he was going to pull off this phone call with Fallin when he felt like utter shit. "Is there anything else you can tell me before Fallin calls? Anything I should know in advance?"

"I think I know what Fallin's going to say, but his attitude is that he's going to try to negotiate with you. Just listen to him, won't you?"

"Why are you so worried? I can be reasonable, you know."

Hermione sighed. "I know, I just... Harry, what's happening between you and Malfoy?"

The question should have surprised him, but he was too self-absorbed at the moment. "Nothing," he answered, truthfully. It pained him to have to admit it out loud. "We're friends, and that's all." Hermione was silent, and Harry closed his eyes. "I would have liked it to be more than that, but..."

"Oh, Harry," she replied. "Are you sure you can be objective about this?"

"Yes," Harry lied. "Of course. That's my job."

+++++

The phone still hadn't rung at 6:04, and Harry didn't think his stomach could take it much longer. He paced the length of his small room, running his hands through his hair to keep himself from chewing on his nails. He had no idea what he would do if Fallin refused to offer Malfoy some sort of amnesty. He supposed he could just resign, stay here. Maybe go into hiding as well, try to find a way to help Malfoy.

But he was here on a tourist visa, so he couldn't really do anything. He couldn't get a job, not even in the wizarding district. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, but his queasiness increased, so he opened them again. He pressed his thumbs against his temples, and the pain of the headache faded.

The phone rang. Harry counted to three, and then picked it up. "Yes?"

"Hello, Harry."

"Minister Fallin." His knees were shaking a little, so he sat down on the bed.

"We both know why I'm calling, so let's get right to it, shall we?"

"Of course, sir." Harry took a deep breath and said the words he'd been rehearsing for the last fifteen minutes. "Let me start by reminding you that you sent me here to do a job, with no parameters or specific instructions other than to find Malfoy and learn why he left his position in New York. I've done the best I can, with limited resources. I'm asking you to consider this situation carefully."

"I have considered it, son, believe me," Fallin replied with a heavy sigh. "That was quite a threat you made yesterday. Do you intend to carry it through?"

Harry swallowed. "Yes, sir. I hope it isn't necessary."

"As do I. But the situation is far more serious than you may realize. We need you to return with Mr. Malfoy this week, or the consequences for us all may be dire."

"Consequences?"

"You'll be debriefed upon arrival."

"That's not good enough," Harry replied, steeling himself. "I'll need more than your insistence to convince him to return, I'm afraid."

"That's all I can give you. I'm sorry."

"What about asylum?" Harry asked, resting his elbows on his knees. "He won't come back if he's to be taken into custody."

"Harry, you may trust Mr. Malfoy, but the government does not."

Harry made an exasperated sound. "With all due respect, Minister, I believe I know more about Mr. Malfoy's trustworthiness than the government does."

Fallin made a sound like a snort. "We've sent you the intelligence, Potter, and the picture it paints is clear. I suspect your judgment may be a bit clouded by your... personal feelings for Mr. Malfoy."

Harry's jaw dropped and he sat straight up again. "Sorry?"

"We know that Draco Malfoy has been in contact with his father, a known Death Eater and collaborator with--"

"What do you mean by 'personal feelings'?" Harry repeated.

Fallin paused. "I read your report, and I've seen the intelligence from the CIA. We didn't send you there to--"

"My feelings have nothing to do with this," Harry retorted. "I thought you sent me here because you trusted my judgment."

"Of course I trust your judgment. It's just that... you must know what the situation looks like, from here."

"No, sir. I'm afraid I don't."

Fallin sounded like he was taking a deep breath. "Harry, what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Draco Malfoy?"

"I... He's become a friend, I suppose. I've gotten to know him and--"

"Are you sleeping with him, Harry?"

Harry blushed, even though no one was there to see. "No, sir," he replied. "I'm not."

"Our intelligence would seem to indicate otherwise."

Harry stifled a groan. "We've allowed people to believe that we're lovers, but we're not."

"The CIA seems convinced of it, Harry, and they're suspicious of your motives. There's even been some suggestion that you and he are working together."

"For what purpose?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

"Any number of purposes, Harry, and none of them are terribly flattering. I have to admit that it looks suspicious to me, as well, especially in light of your recent demands. Why would the two of you go out of your way to convince others that you're lovers when you aren't? I didn't even know you were gay--"

"I'm not gay," Harry interrupted. "And we're not working together. He barely trusts me, despite all of my efforts." Harry felt his cheeks burning. He was angry and embarrassed, and startled that the minister was even making such an accusation.

"I don't have a problem with it, Harry. I'm an open-minded man. I have a cousin who's gay."

Harry groaned in frustration. "Sir, I know what it looks like, but the situation is... complex. I can't explain it, but you have my word that I want nothing more than to bring Draco back with me, and to protect him." His head was still throbbing, and he dug his thumb into a pressure point in his eye socket. It helped, a little. "There was a time when my personal assurance meant something to you. Is that no longer the case?"

Fallin sighed. "Let me be honest with you, Harry. Your name still carries a certain amount of currency in the Ministry, but if you press this Malfoy issue now, you will have spent it all."

Harry exhaled. "I understand, and I--"

"I don't trust Malfoy, but I do trust you, despite the CIA's reports. I've known you since you were a boy, and I don't doubt that you believe what you are saying. However, I remain unconvinced your faith is well-placed."

"Sir, I trust him," Harry said, feeling his stomach lurch at the words. It was true. He trusted Malfoy, despite the fact that he had little reason to do so. "You could release him to my custody, if you like. I would be responsible for him."

Fallin didn't seem surprised by this suggestion. "Are you certain, Harry? You'd be taking quite a risk."

Harry closed his eyes. He still wasn't certain he could convince Malfoy to return at all. What would he do if Malfoy refused?

"Yes," he replied. "I'm certain. And I want immunity from prosecution for him. He has valuable information, and he should be afforded the opportunity to volunteer it. I believe he'll work with us." Harry paused, wondering what else he could possibly say to convince the man. "He's an auror, you know. Doesn't that mean something?"

"Yes, Harry, but he's also a suspected Death Eater, and a flight risk."

"He's neither, sir. Any contact he has had with Death Eaters, or anyone else -- it was all in the line of duty. He was working undercover for us in New York."

"Our intelligence indicates he was working as a double agent."

Harry closed his eyes. "Yes, I've seen that intelligence. But I've seen no evidence to support it. It was based on the testimony of an ex-lover, someone who may or may not have had an ulterior motive."

"It was enough evidence to convince me and the senior staff of the Investigations Office."

Harry clenched his jaw. "Of which I am a member, sir. And I disagree." It was on the tip of his tongue to make a comment about the relatively small amount of evidence needed to convince a government official of something he or she wanted to believe was true.

But the same could be said of Harry. He didn't want it to be true, so perhaps he was seeing Malfoy as he wanted to see him.

"He's running from those alleged allies of his now, sir. He hasn't come to us because he doesn't believe we can protect him." Harry was speculating heavily, but he had little choice. "I think we need to give him a reason to come home. He needs to trust us, more than we need to trust him."

Fallin was silent, though Harry could hear him breathing. He could almost picture the man rubbing absently at his bald spot, as he always did when thinking. "All right. Immunity, and he'll be released to you, on the condition that he arrives with you on Thursday."

Harry tried not to sound exasperated. "I need more time than that."

"The longer you're there, the more danger you are in, Harry. If the CIA thinks you're working with Malfoy, they might take action against you as well. We need you back here, as soon as possible, with or without Malfoy." Fallin paused, as if waiting for him to argue, but Harry remained silent. "And he'll be your responsibility once he's here. If anything goes wrong -- if he turns out to be other than what you say he is -- I'll hold you personally responsible."

Harry closed his eyes, wondering if he was doing the right thing. He did trust Malfoy, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to earn Malfoy's trust in the next two days. He desperately needed more time, but he wasn't going to get it -- not right now, at least.

"I can accept that," he said at last. "And I want it in writing. Two copies, in your hand, on parchment. Give one copy to Hermione Granger, and Fed Ex the other to me here in San Francisco. I won't be able to convince Malfoy without that document in my hand."

"Fed Ex?" Fallin asked.

Harry sighed. "It's a Muggle post service. Ask Hermione. Thank you, sir."

"I'll get that document out today, Harry, and I'll look forward to seeing you Thursday night."

+++++

Harry lay on the bed for a while afterwards, staring at the ceiling. The CIA was spying on him as well? He had little doubt that Manny was behind these reports. He was clearly jealous of Harry's friendship with Malfoy, and now he was trying to sabotage Harry's career as well.

He couldn't go back to sleep, so he took a hot shower, in hopes it would help him relax. It did, happily, and he stood under the steaming water for a long time, letting it pound down onto his back. It was only the guilt of using more than his share of California's precious resource that made him turn it off.

He opened the shower curtain, and nearly screamed: Malfoy was standing not two feet away from him, looking pale.

"Fucking hell, Malfoy, didn't you ever see Psycho?" He wiped water from his eyes and pointed to the towel rack.

Malfoy handed him a towel, blushing. "I'm sorry, but I knocked, and when you didn't answer... " He looked away. "The ward was still up, so I took it down, and came in. I'm sorry." He turned and walked out.

"Wait!" Harry called after him, wrapping the towel around his waist and nearly slipping in his haste to get out of the tub. Malfoy was standing in the middle of the room, looking flustered. "It's okay, really. You gave me a fright, is all."

Malfoy grinned. "I'm a bit tired this morning. Sorry." He pointed to a steaming mug he'd set on the nightstand. "Brought that for you. Will you come to the café after you've dressed?" His eyes raked over Harry once, a nearly unconscious gesture.

"Sure," Harry replied. Something about Malfoy's smile was disconcerting. "I'll come right over. Fifteen, twenty minutes."

Malfoy nodded. "I'll make a latte for you."

+++++

The hangover potion worked quickly, much to Harry's relief. He spent several minutes trying to decide which shirt to wear, and settled on a navy jumper Malfoy had particularly liked when he'd worn it out to dinner one night last week.

He'd just set foot outside the door of the Inn when he heard someone call his name. He turned to see Colby waving at him from across the street. Colby jogged over, dodging a speeding Suburban, and gave him a pained smile.

"You all right?" Harry asked.

"Hung over as hell," Colby replied, running a hand through his mop of dark hair. "I called in sick today, actually. I have no idea how I got home last night. Just woke up on my sofa, feeling like shit."

"We got you a taxi," Harry offered.

"I have no memory of that," Colby grinned. They started walking north, towards the café where Malfoy worked. "The last thing I remember was you disappearing after..." He broke off, biting his lip.

Harry stopped walking and sighed. "Yeah, well--"

"Harry, I was looking for you this morning because we need to talk," Colby blurted. "Last night--"

"Stop," Harry interrupted. Colby stared blankly at him. "Look, I like you, Colby, and you're a very nice bloke, really. But I'm leaving Thursday." Colby's brow furrowed, and Harry paused. There wasn't an easy way to say this. "I plan to spend the rest of my time here with Derek."

"Oh," Colby said, a strange look spreading across his face. "God, you're... This is it, then? Is that what you're...?" He looked away, and Harry felt horrible.

"I only have two days left," Harry continued. "I did come here to visit him, after all."

"I see," Colby replied, still looking down. "So what was that, with me, then? Just a way to pass the time until Derek was free?"

It was, of course. Harry schooled his features into something resembling sympathy. "Colby, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. It's just... You're a sweet bloke, very nice. If we lived closer together, things might be different." Liar, he chastised himself.

"No, they wouldn't," Colby grumbled. "Not as long as Derek was around." They started walking again, and an awkward silence stretched between them. Colby seemed to be lost in thought. He glanced up several times, as if he were going to speak, but didn't. He finally made a sound like a disgusted laugh. "I can't believe you just gave me the 'You're such a nice guy' speech."

Harry smiled. "Better than 'It's not you, it's me', isn't it?"

"I suppose," Colby replied. "I'm just tired of losing great guys to men like Derek. Nobody wants a nice guy, you know. They all want someone like him. A high maintenance jerk who'll fuck around on them."

Harry sighed. He'd had a very similar conversation with Cho, right before she'd left the first time, only he'd been on the other end of it. Harry, you're a wonderful man, and I wish I could love you like you deserve to be loved. I just can't give you what you need, and we both know that. You're better off... She'd been better off with Aaron, it turned out.

"It's horrible, I know," Harry said. "I've no excuse, and I'm sorry."

They turned at 15th Street and again on Noe, and Harry wondered if Colby was going to follow him into the café. But Colby paused outside the door, and stared at him.

"Well," Harry said.

"Oh god, this is it, isn't it?" Colby muttered. "I'm not going to see you again."

Harry sighed and shook his head. He hated this, he really did. He didn't know what to say. "Thanks" just didn't seem appropriate.

"Wait," Colby said, and fumbled through his pockets for his wallet. He opened it and handed Harry a business card. "That's my home address and phone number and email on the right. If you're in town again, or whatever..."

Harry took the card and smiled. "Sure thing." He didn't have a card to offer in return, so he just tucked it in his pocket.

"Right," Colby said, looking down at the ground. "So..."

"Yeah," Harry said. "It was nice meeting you, Colby." He reached for the door handle.

"Same here," Colby said, biting his lip. "Bye." He glanced at Harry once more, and then walked away.

Harry went right into the café so he wouldn't be tempted to turn around. That had felt completely horrible. He swore he'd never do that to anyone again if he could help it.

Malfoy was busy and didn't look up when Harry walked in. Harry went to the counter instead of sitting at a table. A woman he didn't recognize beamed at him and asked what he wanted to order.

"A cappuccino, with a shot of caramel," he said.

"And an extra shot of espresso," Malfoy added. Harry glanced over to see Malfoy grinning at him. "Or are you cutting back on the caffeine?"

"Can't get enough," Harry replied, smiling.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "That's not your usual order, you know."

"It's always been my favorite," Harry replied. "I just never told you."

"I'll bring it to you," Malfoy said. He seemed happy to see Harry, more so than usual.

Harry found a seat in his favorite corner. There was a copy of the San Francisco Bay Guardian lying on the table, to his delight. He'd developed a fondness for the quirky newspaper over the last week.

Malfoy brought his coffee and sat down across from him. "Anything interesting?"

"This sex column is hilarious," Harry commented. Malfoy grinned back, and they just looked at each other for a moment. The blow job from the night before flashed through Harry's mind, and he felt his cheeks heat. "How are you?"

Malfoy smiled. "Good, actually. Hangover potion help?"

Harry nodded. "Thanks." Malfoy's eyes were strangely blue, and they were fixed on his own. Harry swallowed, wondering what Malfoy was thinking. "We were going to talk today, right?" he ventured.

"Yeah," Malfoy said, glancing down almost shyly. "But not here. Later. In private." His eyebrows raised a fraction, and Harry felt a twinge in his abdomen.

"Okay," he replied, grinning.

"I'm going to take off a little early," Malfoy continued. "We have a dinner reservation at six."

"That's early for dinner," Harry remarked.

"That's because we're going to the theatre tonight," Malfoy grinned. "I thought it would be fun."

"Sounds lovely," Harry replied. "Is this a date?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I guess." He winked at Harry and walked away.

Harry watched him off and on over the next hour, marveling at how happy Malfoy seemed. Perhaps what happened between them the night before had caused Malfoy to look at Harry in a new light? His heart began to beat faster at the thought. Maybe this was going to work out after all. Maybe Malfoy would finally open up to him, finally trust him. Maybe they could be honest with each other, at last.

Harry finished reading the paper and picked up a copy of a news magazine someone had left nearby. He was just getting interested in an article about Julia Roberts when someone stopped in front of his table. He looked up to see the stony face of Manny Padilla glaring down at him.

Manny was very handsome, but he had the kind of face that could seem very frightening when he was angry. Harry gritted his teeth when Manny pulled out a chair and sat, still staring at him. Malfoy spotted them from across the room and shot a concerned look at Harry. Harry expected Malfoy to rush over with a cup of coffee for his boyfriend, but he didn't. He just watched, a wary expression on his face.

"Have a good time last night?" Manny asked. It didn't sound like he hoped Harry had.

"Yes," Harry replied. He attempted a smirk. "Derek gives amazing head, doesn't he?"

"Do you think I'm jealous of you?" Manny's smirk was much more convincing.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I do."

"I'm not, Harry. I know who you are, and why you're here." His expression darkened even further, remarkably. "And you're not going to succeed. I plan to make sure of that, personally."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry replied, sipping his coffee -- a gesture he hoped appeared calm. "I'm here to visit him. That's all."

"Maybe that's what you'd like him to believe," Manny replied. "But my sources tell me differently."

"Your sources are stunningly inaccurate," Harry snorted, though his stomach was twisting into a large knot. The morning's phone conversation flashed through his mind, and he wondered who Manny's "sources" were. Perhaps he was just fishing for information. Harry gave Manny an appraising look. "While we're on the subject, I know you're not a lawyer. I know why you're here as well."

Manny's eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered to a whisper. "If you really care about him, Harry, go away. Leave him alone. Stop fucking with his emotions. Every day you're here, he's in more danger."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Manny smirked. "I think you do, though. If you really care about him, you'll leave him alone."

"Maybe I want to protect him."

"You can't, Harry."

Harry clenched his jaw. "Are you so certain?"

Manny glared at him. "He may trust you, Harry, but I don't. And I'm watching you."

"Is that a threat?" Harry asked, trying to be flippant.

"Yes, it is," Manny replied. He stood at that, and glanced briefly at Malfoy before leaving the café.

Malfoy watched him leave, and then looked back at Harry. Harry smiled at him.

A few minutes later, Malfoy brought him another cappuccino. Harry still had half a cup left from the last one. "What was that about?" Malfoy asked, sitting in the seat recently vacated by Manny.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "You tell me."

Malfoy shrugged and tilted his head. "He's jealous, I think."

"Does he have a reason to be?" Harry asked.

Malfoy paused for a moment, eyes locked onto Harry's. "Yes, I think so." He exhaled, and smiled.

Harry's heart was pounding in his chest. Did that mean what he thought it meant?

"So, I was thinking," Malfoy began, tracing his finger through a puddle of spilled coffee on the table, "that we could go to Napa on Thursday. I'm off Thursday and Friday, and we could hire a car, make a weekend of it." He looked up at Harry again, a radiant expression on his face.

Harry's heart sank. "Oh, Draco, I..." He paused, uncertain what to do. Malfoy's expression faded, and Harry took a deep breath. "I'm leaving on Thursday at noon. I got a call this morning, and I'm needed in the office on Friday."

Malfoy's face had gone pale, and he stared at the table in front of him. It looked as if he was thinking feverishly. "You're leaving?" he said at last. His voice was unusually small.

Harry took his hand across the table. "Yes. I'm sorry. I tried to get them to let me stay longer, but..."

"So that's it? Holiday over?"

"Yeah," Harry replied.

Malfoy smiled weakly at him and squeezed Harry's hand before pulling away. "Well, we'll just have to have fun for the next few days, I suppose." He stood and returned to the counter.

Harry wanted to go to him, to take him in his arms, to kiss him -- anything to get that smile back. He cursed Minister Fallin inwardly. He needed more time here, and he would just have to tell Fallin that. He'd call him tomorrow morning, and demand it, in fact.

Malfoy's attitude was different after that, though. Over the next few hours, he went back to being his old self again -- closed, sarcastic, and unreadable. Harry also had the sense he was relieved.

+++++

Malfoy had assured him casual dress was perfectly acceptable at the theatre, which was a good thing for Harry -- he didn't have anything nicer to wear. They took a taxi to the restaurant, an Asian fusion bistro called Ponzu, near Union Square. They chatted amiably over a meal that seemed to consist entirely of duck, and drank several bottles of a sake called Bishonen. The conversation never drifted towards a serious topic, no matter how hard Harry tried to steer it. Malfoy was skilled at avoiding subjects he didn't want to discuss.

After the plates were cleared away, Harry sighed and poured the last of the sake into their glasses. "I'm really going to miss this," he said, looking up at Malfoy. "I'm going to miss you."

"No you won't," Malfoy smirked. "You'll head down to Soho the minute you get back and fuck your brains out. I'm jealous."

"You could come with me, you know," Harry ventured.

Malfoy snorted. "Oh, yes. I could be your arm candy. We could work together to pull cute boys."

"I'm serious, actually," Harry replied, smiling.

Malfoy studied him for a minute. A muffled tune began to play. Malfoy blinked, as if he'd been somewhere else, and searched his coat pocket. He produced his mobile, furrowing his brow as he did.

"Hello?... Eating... Yes." He rolled his eyes. "No, I told you--" He listened for a moment. Harry had little doubt as to who was on the other end of the line. "All right, all right. I will." He snapped the phone shut with a sigh and smiled at Harry.

"Who was that?" Harry asked, as casually as possible.

"Who do you think?" Malfoy snorted.

"Everything all right?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I think so. He's just..." He shrugged. The waiter dropped their check on the table and Malfoy snatched it up before Harry could. Malfoy smirked. "Some seeker you are. I'm getting this tonight."

Harry grinned. "Thanks."

They walked to the Marines Theatre, which was just a few blocks away. It was uphill, and they were both panting by the time they got there. The house hadn't yet opened, so they stood outside with the rest of the crowd. Malfoy seemed nervous, and tugged Harry over to stand against the side of the building. He fumbled with a packet of cigarettes and finally managed to light one.

"I wish you wouldn't smoke," Harry remarked.

"Me too," Malfoy said, and took a long drag. He leaned his head against the wall, looking up at the sky as he exhaled.

"You okay?" Harry asked.

The mobile started ringing again. Malfoy groaned and dug it out of his pocket. "What?... Oh, for fuck's sake! I'm at the theatre, and I'm shutting this bloody thing off the minute I walk in the door." Harry raised an eyebrow at him, and Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Not now, all right? I'll call you later, I swear." He listened for a moment, and then began to smile. "A viente, pendejo. Cuídate." He turned the phone off and slipped it into his pocket. "Sorry," he said to Harry.

"Do you speak Spanish?" Harry asked.

Malfot shot him a strange look. "No. I know some swear words and a few handy phrases. Manny switches to Spanish when he's really cross with me. I had to learn enough to figure out what he was saying." He shrugged and returned his attention to the rapidly burning cigarette.

Over the next twenty minutes, Harry tried every romantic gesture he could think of -- anything to make Malfoy smile again. He held his hand until Malfoy pulled away. He kissed him on the cheek in full view of the crowd waiting to go in. He humored Malfoy when he pouted about having spilt soy sauce on his shirt at dinner.

"I love this shirt," Malfoy mumbled, frowning.

Harry slid his arms around him and hugged him from behind, hooking his chin over Malfoy's shoulder. He glanced down at the tickets in Malfoy's hand. "Noises Off. So what's this play about, anyway?"

Malfoy leaned back against him, and Harry nuzzled his hair. "It's about a theatre troupe that's trying to put on a play, but everything keeps going wrong. It's supposed to be quite funny."

The play was indeed funny, though Harry spent as much time watching Malfoy as he did the stage. They strolled out into the street afterwards, still giggling.

"You know, I don't think Americans get British humor," Malfoy said.

"Everyone was laughing," Harry noted.

"Not as hard as we were, though. And the accents were terrible."

"Well, I've heard worse," Harry grinned. "You're difficult to please tonight, aren't you?"

"I can't help it if I have high standards." Malfoy winked, and Harry felt his stomach flip. "Want to get a drink?"

Harry took his hand. "I want to get a cab, actually."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly. "We'll never get a cab with all these people around."

"Then let's walk up a few blocks." Harry looked at the slope of the hill and reconsidered. "Or maybe down, now that I think about it." He grinned and pulled Malfoy by the hand, but Malfoy's feet were planted. Harry sighed. "You promised me we'd talk today, remember? If we go to a bar..." He looked away, frustrated.

"All right," Malfoy replied, voice barely more than a whisper. "But we'll apparate." They walked down the street, and Malfoy tugged Harry into an alley. He looked both ways before gesturing for Harry to come closer. Harry slid his arms around Malfoy and looked down at his face. In the dim streetlight, he looked almost fragile.

Malfoy looked up at Harry, his eyes dark and wide. "What?"

"God, you're so beautiful," Harry said, realizing it sounded hokey, but not caring.

Malfoy just stared at him in response, lips parted slightly. He seemed to be breathing terribly hard for a person standing still. It was a wonderful moment, and Harry couldn't resist leaning forward and kissing him. Malfoy's lips were surprisingly soft under his, and they parted when he pressed the tip of his tongue between them. Malfoy's mouth was warm, and Harry didn't even mind the taste of cigarettes so much. With every passing second, he felt a little more lost in the moment. They were leaning against a grimy wall now, and Harry pressed himself tightly against Malfoy. He wanted so much more than this, and every kiss only convinced him of it more.

Malfoy's hands slid up inside Harry's shirt, across his back, and he turned his head enough to pull out of the kiss. He tucked his forehead against Harry's shoulder, panting, and hugged Harry tightly. Harry hugged back, and closed his eyes.

"Ready?" he heard Malfoy whisper. He nodded in response, knowing Malfoy could feel it, and then he felt the strange shift that accompanied apparation. Right after the feeling of his feet hitting pavement again, he heard a metallic crashing sound. They turned to see a homeless man staring at them, mouth open, a garbage bag of aluminum cans spilling at his feet.

"Oops," Malfoy muttered, releasing Harry. "Come on." He led Harry out of the alley they'd apparated into, looking around carefully. Harry realized they were about a block from Malfoy's flat. "I can't risk apparating into the corridor of my building," Malfoy said. "The neighbors are nosy enough as it is. I can only imagine the looks I'd get if they saw me appear out of thin air."

Malfoy seemed relieved once they had passed the front door of the building, and he heaved a sigh when he had closed the door of his flat behind them. Harry pinned him against it instantly, kissing him. Malfoy's body was tense, though, and his arms hung limply by his sides. He didn't return the kiss so much as tolerate it. Harry leaned away from him and sighed. He was hurt, and frustrated, and didn't know why he was being pushed away yet again.

Harry sat on the sofa while Malfoy went to get them drinks. He returned with two bottles of beer and sat across the sofa from Harry, tucking his feet under him.

"So," Harry said.

"So," Malfoy repeated. He looked uncomfortable.

"You said we'd talk, and you've avoided it all day," Harry sighed. "And now you're avoiding me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Malfoy replied, picking at the label of his Amstel Light. "It's just that... Harry, you're leaving day after tomorrow."

"What does that have to do with us, now?" Harry asked, feeling his heart rate increase already.

"It's for the best, though," Malfoy continued. "You'll go home, and that'll be that. So there's nothing to talk about." Malfoy still wasn't looking at him.

"Draco," Harry began, and paused. He wasn't sure what to say. "If I weren't leaving, would it be different?"

Malfoy shrugged, still not looking up. "I don't know. I thought so, last night. I thought about it all morning, and... I do care about you, Harry. But my life is really fucked up right now. I can't be in a relationship, not even with someone who lives here. You live in London."

At the word relationship Harry felt his stomach lurch. He took a deep breath. "I'm going to call the office tomorrow and tell them I want to stay longer."

"No," Malfoy said, making a sound like a sad laugh. "You're not listening, Harry. I can't do this. You'd leave, eventually, and it'd be that much worse. We're better off not going there at all."

Harry wracked his brain trying to think of something to say. There was nothing else for it but to throw his cards on the table. Sort of. "I was serious earlier when I said you should come back with me."

Malfoy looked up at him then. "Harry, that's a horrible idea."

"Why? What's keeping you here? You're running from something; that much is clear. If you come back with me, I can help you."

Malfoy snorted. "You can't help me, Harry. And I'm not going anywhere."

"Why not?"

"It's a long story, and I don't feel like telling it." Malfoy's tone had changed to one of warning.

"All right, fine," Harry replied. "You don't have to tell me. But promise me you'll think about it." Malfoy stared at his beer bottle and said nothing. Harry slid across the sofa until his thigh was pressing against Malfoy's knee. "Draco, I really care about you. I don't think I realized how much until I found out I had to leave. I don't want to walk away from this, without even trying to--"

"Trying to what?" Malfoy interrupted, meeting Harry's eyes again. "Give me a fucking break, Harry! You only figured out you were bisexual, what, a week ago?" Harry swallowed, and Malfoy continued before he could reply. "You don't have a clue what it's like to be gay. You've been on holiday here, playing a game. What's going to happen when you get back to London, and the big story in the tabloids is that the fucking 'Boy Who Lived' fucks boys? You have no idea how that's going to affect your life, and you want me to be there, to take the blame when you decide you were wrong?"

"Draco, I'm not going to decide--"

"Harry, you've just been through a divorce. How do you know you're not just angry at women and trying out men instead?"

"I know what I feel!" Harry retorted.

"You can't deny that you're fucked up emotionally. I'd be a rebound fling, and I'd be out of the picture the moment you started missing the taste of pussy again."

"That's not fair, Draco."

"I know it isn't," Malfoy said, standing. "Life's not fair, and I have to look out for myself. I learned a long time ago that no one else is going to do it."

"Maybe I would, if you'd give me a chance," Harry replied, standing as well. He took Malfoy's hand and pulled him close. "Why won't you let me in?"

Malfoy was trembling against him, but it seemed he couldn't tear his eyes away. "I can't afford to be hurt by you, Harry." Harry started to protest, but Malfoy pressed his fingers against Harry's lips. "Listen to me. You've been a part of my life since before we met. I don't think you have any idea how much of a role you've played, in everything. When you showed up here last week..." He stepped back, putting some space between them, and ran a hand through his red-streaked hair. "I really wanted to make love to you tonight. But I can't bear the thought of having you and then losing you."

Harry's heart pounded in his chest, and he reached out for Malfoy again, but Malfoy pulled away.

"God, Harry... I could fall in love with you, and that would be the worst thing that could happen to me. You might think you could love me back, but... I know you. You want to get married, and have a family, and have all those things you didn't have as a kid."

Harry swallowed and looked down at his shoes. It was true, of course. Before a week ago, he couldn't have imagined his life being any other way.

"You can't have those things with me," Malfoy whispered, "and one day you'd realize I wasn't enough. And then where would I be?"

"Draco, please..." But he couldn't think of anything to say. He felt horrible, and his stomach was churning. "I don't know what's going to happen, but I can't leave without you. I can't bear the thought of not even trying."

"I'd be the one taking all the risk," Malfoy said. "God, Harry, could you be any more selfish? You want me to drop everything -- my life here, my friends -- and just run away with you?"

"I'm trying to help you!" Harry cried. "I know you're hiding here. I know you're in danger. If you stay here--"

"You don't know anything about me." Malfoy's tone had become belligerent again.

Harry's frustration was nearing the breaking point. "Will you cut the bullshit, please? I know more than you realize." He took a step closer, and Malfoy backed away. "You trust Manny so much, but I know who he is. I know he's a wizard, and I'd bet he's a CIA agent as well."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "You... what the fuck?"

"They're going to arrest you. They're just waiting for a chance, and you--"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Malfoy took a few more steps backward. He looked shaken.

"Draco, please listen to me."

"I think you should go," Malfoy replied, eyes hard. "Before either of us says something he regrets."

Harry stared back at Malfoy, feeling almost desperate. There was nothing he could think of to say that might ease the tension between him. Maybe it would all be better in the morning, after Malfoy'd had a chance to think.

"Look, we'll go out for sushi or something tomorrow, all right?" Malfoy sighed. "And we're not going to talk about this any more. We're just going to have a fun evening, and then you'll go back to England. It's best that way." He stared at the floor, suddenly seeming very tired, and walked to the door and opened it. "You can apparate from just outside the door, if the neighbors aren't peeking." He looked up at Harry, and there was no emotion in his eyes.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, stalling for time, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He crossed to the door, pausing to kiss Malfoy. Malfoy turned his head so that Harry's lips met his cheek.

"Good night, Harry," he said. His voice sounded tense.

Harry stepped into the hall, and the door closed behind him. He stood there for nearly a minute before apparating to his room at the Inn. He stripped out of his clothes, pulled on a pair of pyjama pants, and stretched out on the bed.

It was only then that he allowed himself to think, and to feel. He closed his eyes and the room seemed to spin slightly, even though he'd barely had anything to drink. He couldn't remember hurting this much when Cho left him, though he was certain he had. Perhaps you couldn't remember how painful love could be, so that you wouldn't be afraid to fall in love again.

Was that what was happening to him? Was he falling in love? He wondered what would happen if he didn't show up at the portkey station on Thursday, didn't go back to England. There was no reason to go back. There was nothing there for him. There was no one there for him. The only person who seemed to matter right now was Draco Malfoy.

+++++

Harry didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but he was jolted awake by a hand pressing firmly against his mouth. He tried to sit up in bed, but he was pushed down again. A spell was whispered, and a wand cast light over the face of his intruder.

It was Malfoy, and he was holding a finger to his lips signaling Harry to be quiet. He released Harry's mouth and whispered another spell, then swept a circle around the room with his wand. A small point of light appeared in a corner of the room, near the ceiling. Harry squinted at it and reached for his glasses. Malfoy whispered again, and a bubble of light emerged from his wand and floated across the room, encasing the point in the corner.

"Muggle listening device," Malfoy murmured. "The CIA is fond of using them on us, because we tend to expect magical surveillance methods. It can't hear us now."

"How long has it been there?" Harry asked.

"No telling," Malfoy said. "That's not important now. Harry, you have to leave, immediately. You're in great danger." Malfoy stood and held out his hand. He pulled Harry to his feet. Malfoy was still dressed in the same clothes he had been earlier, though it was the middle of the night.

"What?" Harry was baffled. Was he dreaming?

Malfoy took off his silver bracelet and placed it on the nightstand. "This is a portkey, and I've spelled it to work only for you, as soon as you touch it." His tone was urgent, and different than Harry had ever heard before. "It'll bring you through the wards, straight into to my flat. You'll be safe there."

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

"I can't stay here any longer," Malfoy said. "Gather whatever you wouldn't want someone to find, and use the portkey. Hurry."

He gazed at Harry for a moment, and then disapparated with a pop.

Harry was frozen to the spot for a full second. He had no reason not to trust Malfoy, but it was hard to believe he was in danger. The memory of Malfoy's tone jolted him into action, and he stuffed everything he could find into his rucksack. He switched the lamp on, glancing around for the most important item.

Wand. Where was his wand? It had been in his jacket, and he remembered taking it off and tossing -- the bathroom. He found his jacket on the floor by the toilet, and located his wand.

And then he heard the distinct sounds of two different people apparating into his room. He cast a concealment spell on himself and peeked around the door frame. There were two hooded figures, now moving around his room.

"Our intelligence said he was here," one of them hissed. The accent was British.

"He may be yet," the other replied. The voice was strangely familiar. Harry clutched his rucksack to his chest and crept forward. If he didn't move too quickly, they wouldn't notice him. He just had to reach the bracelet on the nightstand.

The figures began searching the room, yanking the sheets off the bed and pulling drawers out of the dresser. Harry took another careful step forward. He wondered what they were looking for, besides him. He knew he was just running on adrenaline and a sense of detachment now -- there'd be plenty of time to react later. For now, he focused on the bracelet, on escape. The silver band seemed to gleam in the soft lamplight, beckoning to him.

"Check the bathroom," one of the men said. Harry froze, only steps away from the bracelet. The man walking towards the bathroom was on a path that would lead him right into Harry, and Harry couldn't move out of the way without catching his eye. He braced himself and tried to focus his mind, running through a catalogue of defensive spells that would work best from such a short distance.

"Master, look!" The man had stopped and was pointing to the nightstand.

The bracelet, Harry thought, feeling a shiver of fear.

"Yes," the other man said. "That is very interesting, indeed." He produced a wand from his robe and pointed it toward the bracelet, whispering, "Accio."

Harry dove forward without another thought, catching the bracelet in midair. Just before the sickening twist of his guts, just before the room disappeared around him, Harry was -- for a split second -- looking into the face of Lucius Malfoy.

And then he was standing in Draco Malfoy's flat, clutching his rucksack and panting, arm still extended and holding the bracelet. Malfoy was standing by the sofa, with the look of someone who'd been pacing nervously. He froze when he saw Harry.

They stared at each other for a moment. Harry was too rattled even to speak.

Then Malfoy made a strangled sound and charged at Harry. Harry dropped his bag, the bracelet, his wand -- and found his arms full. Malfoy was kissing him, and clinging to him, and trembling violently.

"Oh god, I thought I'd lost you!" he whispered against Harry's lips.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, pulling him closer, trying to calm himself down. His heart was pounding. If Malfoy was frightened, he must have known something was going to happen. For the first time in years, Harry wondered if he'd narrowly escaped death, or worse.

"I was terrified," Malfoy replied. "Oh god..." And he kissed Harry again, so hard their teeth knocked together. "I'm sorry," he whispered into Harry's open mouth. "I'm so sorry I pushed you away."

"I'm here now," Harry whispered back, and pulled Malfoy against him tightly. Malfoy melted into him, arms around Harry's neck, whimpering into his mouth as Harry kissed him back with all of the feeling he'd kept pent up for days.

Everything else began to melt away -- the room, the memory of Malfoy's father's face in the dark, the fear that had been pooling in his gut. It was all replaced with a steadily growing arousal. Harry pulled out of the kiss, worried that his sudden erection was inappropriate, that this was the wrong time and place to feel this way.

But Malfoy pulled him back and pressed himself against Harry, kissing him with a sort of desperation. Malfoy was hard too, and this time, he wasn't pushing Harry away.

Harry's mind was losing the battle with his hormones, slowly but surely. "I want you," he whispered, moving his lips to Malfoy's ear and pressing their groins together. Their erections brushed, and they both hissed.

"Bedroom," Malfoy whispered, and took a step backwards. They stumbled across the room, still intertwined, still kissing and touching each other as much as possible. Harry had never felt anything close to this level of passion before -- he couldn't take his hands or his mouth off of Malfoy long enough even to walk, or to remove clothes.

They reached the door, but bumped into it so hard that it closed. Harry pressed Malfoy up against it, pinning his hands on either side of his head against the door, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Malfoy ground against Harry and hooked one ankle behind his knee to pull him even closer.

Harry shifted his position and their erections brushed again. His moan mingled with Malfoy's, and he started thrusting against Malfoy without even thinking. He became vaguely aware of Malfoy rocking against him in return, both of them pushing harder, growing more frenzied in their movements.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, because time seemed to have stopped. It was just him, and Malfoy, and their lips and tongues, and their cocks pressed together through thin cotton and rough denim, harder, faster...

Malfoy cried out and pulled out of the kiss, tilting his chin up. Harry devoured his exposed throat, feeling his orgasm spiraling ever closer. He hit his forehead on the door, but he barely felt it -- all he became aware of was the tightening in his groin, the rush of sensation, and the crest of it reaching the breaking point as he came. It seemed to last a long time, and then they were both shuddering together, supporting each other in the aftermath. When his mind had cleared enough to think, Harry released Malfoy's wrists, and felt arms slide around his bare torso.

"We didn't quite make it to the bedroom," Harry said, breathing in the mild scent of sweat in Malfoy's hair.

Malfoy snickered. "We didn't even make it out of our clothes. Is that pathetic, or what?"

Harry took a step back. Sure enough, they'd both soiled their pants. Harry grinned. "I don't care."

They stared at each other for a moment, not quite sure what to do. Neither of them had meant for that to happen, and if Harry had been in his right mind, he'd have stopped them. He had no idea what this meant for them, or how it changed things between them. Did it mean Malfoy had changed his mind?

Malfoy gazed up at him, expression unreadable. Harry swallowed, and tried not to feel guilty that he was more worried about whether or not Malfoy would shag him now than he was about his own safety.

Harry sighed, and forced himself to smile. "What do we do now?"

+++++

Go on to part 9