“That’saseretI’llbetakingtomygrave,I’mafraid,”hesaid.

Annoyaneflikeredoverthewizard’sfae,whihhequiklytriedtomaskwithasmile.

“Ofourse.”Finally,heletgoofPotter’shandbutkeptsrutinisinghim.“IwasverysorrytohearaboutyourretionshipwithyoungMrs.Weasley.Areyouhereonyourown?”

BeforeDraoknewwhatwashappening,hefeltahandonhishipwhihpulledhimagainstPotter’sside.

“I’mnot,atually,”Pottersaid,hislipsstrethingintoadevioussmile.TheheatofthesunsuddenlyseemedtoburnDraoalive.ItwasthesamegesturePotterhadusedtomakeDraojealous.Only,now,hewastheonePotterwasiming.

Theyhadn’tdisussedthedetailsoftoday’s…arra.Yes,DraowashereasPotter’sdate,buttheyhadn’ttalkedaboutwhetherornottheywouldbeopenaboutit.WhileDraoknewhismotherhadstrongsuspiionsabouthispreferene,ithadbeenverymuhimpliedonnumerousoasionshewasnevertomakeitpubliknowledge.Well,somuhforthat.

ItwasmorethansurprisingthatPotterwasatinglikethis,atually.Aftereverythinghehadtoldhim,Draohadbeensurehewantedtokeepalowprofile,espeiallywhenitametohisprivatelife.Allitwouldtakewassomeshadyreporterbehindabush,takingsomepitures,andthewholeWizardingWorldwouldgobonkers.Speakingofwhih…

Theoldwizardwasstillgawkingatthem,shokwrittenalloverhisfae.

“But—Butthat’sDraoMalfoy,”hespluttered.Drao’sstomahlurhedunomfortably.Eventhoughhewantedtohexthewizard,hiseyesientlywanderedovertoPotter’sfaewhenhefelthimpullinghimloser.

“I’malukyguy,aren’tI?”Pottersaid,hiseyespieringDrao’s.Theworldaroundthemsuddenlyseemedtoometoahalt.DraoknewPotterhadjustsaidthattoprovoketheoldwizard,butthewayhewaslookingathim…ItalmostmadeDraobelievePotteratuallymeantit.Hehadnoideahowlongtheywerestandingtherelikethis,staringateahother,untilsomebodybumpedintoDrao,yankinghimbaktoreality.Potterseemedabitstartled,too,andremovedhishandfromDrao’ship.

“He’sgone,”hemuttered,gningoverhisshoulder.

“Ithoughtyouhadaproblemwithdisappointingpeople,”Draosaidquietly,feelingmoreonfusedthanever.

“Hewasbeingadik,”Pottersaidwithafrown.

“Wasgrabbingmereallyneessary,though?”Draogrumbled,suddenlyfeelingembarrassed.

“Hedidn’tevenaknowledgeyou!”Pottersaid,heatedly.“It’sobviousyou’remydate,buthewasignorantonpurpose.Hetalkedaboutyouasifyouweren’tstandingrighttome.”

Draoblinked.WasthiswhatitfeltliketobeonthereeivingendofPotter’shivalry?EventhoughDraowantedtopointouthewasmorethanapableoffightinghisownbattles,hehadtoadmit,itdidn’tfeeltoobadtohavePotterdefendhimlikethat.Notbadatall.

“You’vegottostopdoingthat,”Pottermurmured.Hisvoiesoundedraspierthanbefore.

“What?”Draoknittedhisbrowstogetherinonfusion.Whatwashedoing?

“Bitingyourliplikethat.”

Draoouldn’tsuppresstheshiverthatseizedhimathearingthelonginginPotter’svoie.Thistime,hewasabsolutelysurehewasn’timaginingthings.Potterwantedhim.Merlin,ifonlyheknewhowmuhDraowantedhim!

“Youwanttogetoutofhere?”Potterwhispered.

“Buttheeremonyhasn’tevenstartedyet.”

Pottersteppedloser,untiltheirbodieswerealmosttouhing.Draofelthisbreathonhisfaeandshiveredinspiteofhimself.IttookeverythinginhimtoholdstillwhenPotterslowlytrailedhisfingersarossDrao’sheekandthen—Draogulped—downhisnek.

“But…won’tgbemadifyou—”

“Youreallywanttotalkaboutbsp;rightnow?”

Hereally,reallydidn’t.

“Okay,let’sgo,”Draoroaked.

“Yoursormine?”

Itwashard,tryingtoformoherentsentenes.Yoursormine?Merlin,hiskneesweregettingweak.Thiswasit,wasn’tit?He’dfinallyhavePottertohimself.Desirefredupinsidehim,minglingwithanundeniablerushofnervousness.Potterwasexperiened,atleastfarmoreexperienedthanDrao.Maybeitwouldatleasthelptobeinthefamiliarityofhisownhome?

“Mine,”hefinallysaid,swallowingaroundthelumpinhisthroat.PotternoddedandDraofelthisfingersonhisarms.BrainghimselffortheunomfortablesutionofApparition,hesquaredhisshouldersandballedhishandsintofists.Hestartledwhenwarmfingerssuddenlylosedaroundhisrightfist.Instintively,hismuslesloosened.Potterlostnotimeiwiningtheirfingers.

“Beforewego…”

Draolethimselfbeleadintothehouse,intothehallway,wherePotterstoppedandpulledhimlose.

“Thisisyourhanetogetoutofthis,”hemurmured,hiseyessearhingDrao’s.

“What?”Draobreathed.Hewastoodizzyforaleverresponse.

“Tellmeifyouwantmetostop,”Potterwhispered,hisgazeflikingdowntoDrao’smouth.Merlin,whywouldhewanthimtostop?“Drao,doyouwantmeto—”

“Don’tstop,”Draoroaked,feelinglikehewasmeltinginPotter’sarms.Howlonghadhewantedthis?Howoftenhadhedreamedaboutthis?HowlonghadheyearnedforPotter,wantinghimsobadlyithaddrivenhiminsane?

Everyfiberofhimseemedtobeprikling,hisheartjiggingaroundinhishestinantiipation.Wouldrealitybeabletokeepupwithhisdreams?WouldPotterbereallyasgoodasDraohadimagined?Wouldhebegentle?Rough?Wouldhe—SweetMotherofeverythingthatisholy!

IfPotterhadn’theldhimseurelyinhisarms,Draowassurehewouldhavefloatedaway.ThepressofPotter’slipsagainsthis,thesoftsrapeofhisbeardagainstDrao’sskin,hisintoxiatingsmell,thewayhishandswered

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