The morning of the gala, Harry was sent home from Pansy’s studio with tailored black robes lined in silver embroidered lilies down the front. Pansy had met him there personally to give over the robes, telling him that Draco’s robes would match, the only difference being narcissus flowers instead of lilies. Harry was so shocked by the thoughtfulness of such a gift he found himself unsure of how to respond. Throat tight and unable to meet her eye, Harry choked out a ‘thank you,’ when she handed them over.

Pansy offered him a smile and said, “We can just pretend that I picked the flowers at random if it would be easier for you, Potter.”

Running his fingers over the silver thread, Harry blinked several times to avoid tears and returned her smile. “I think,” he said, “it’s more believable that Hermione suggested it.”

Pansy met his eye, “Yes. We can pretend that instead, if you wish.” She took the robes back and packed them carefully into a box. “I hope you’re ready for the shitstorm you are going to cause by bringing him tonight,” she said, handing him the bag.

Thankful for the change in subject, Harry replied, “As long as I’m with him, I don’t care. The press can fuck off.”

Pansy searched his face, the way she always seemed to when Harry talked about Draco. “I look forward to seeing you there. Before you tell the press to fuck off, don’t forget to mention that you got your perfect wizarding robes from PEP.”

Harry laughed, “Don’t worry, even if I forget tonight, I have that interview scheduled next week with the Quibbler. ”

Leaving Pansy’s studio, Harry decided to walk home instead of apparate. Thinking back over the last 8 weeks he couldn’t help but feel they had flown by. His project with Luna and her father had come to an end, he had several dinners with Hermione and Ron, more than one memorable night at the leaky with his renovation team, and several hours of time spent with a growing kitten purring away on his chest.

Through it all, he had made time for Draco. Their bodies intertwined, their magic sparking and blending, communicating for them when the words became too much -too little- to express emotion.

But the words had been there, and they had been powerful too. Harry’s mind filled with the confessions they had both shared since Draco’s birthday. All the violent, sweet perfect words they had said.

June 7th

“Why do you tell people it was a lion?” Harry had asked, lips skimming over the pale scars.

“Because no one ever asks if I won in a fight against a lion,” Draco said, lacing their fingers together, “they are just impressed that I survived.”

Harry had kissed him breathless afterward, whispering the broken words, “We both survived.”

June 30th

“Why won't you tell me where you're going to be working?" Harry asked, hating the desperation in his voice. He must have asked five times over the last two weeks.

Draco had practically growled at him in response, "You are terrible at listening, Potter."

"Oh, I'm Potter again? What happened to Harry?"

"You! You are what happened." Draco grabbed Harry's face, smashing his cheeks, and said, "Listen to the words I'm saying. I can't speak about my new profession."

It took Harry retelling the conversation to Orion, the next day, before he figured out that Draco would be working for the Department of Mysteries. He was so relieved and excited that he ambushed a lunch Draco was having with Pansy, asking a slew of questions that Draco patiently did not answer, while Pansy laughed at him and called him The Chosen Idiot.

July 17th

“Show me how, I want to please you,” Harry said, his lips moving against Draco’s throat, soaking in the rush of his skin, “show me.”

“Merlin, Harry, you do. The way you move. You take me all the way,” Draco replied, gripping Harry’s hips to encourage the way they were rolling against his erection. “Stay with me?” he whispered.

“You said I’m not allowed to sleep here.”

“I want you to stay.”

Harry hadn't slept without Draco after that night.

July 29th

“I can’t just let you go, Draco,” Harry had surprised himself when he heard the words come out of his mouth. He had meant to ease into it, rather than blurt them out two nights before their deal ended.

Draco had wrapped Harry into a hug and whispered, “Why? Why can’t you let me go,” he bit and kissed Harry’s neck, ”tell me, Harry.”

“You make me believe, you make me forget,” Harry replied, his chest constricting from lack of oxygen. "And you're the best lay I've ever had."

Draco's chuckle rumbled through both of them before he captured Harry's lips in a promising, filthy kiss.

“Merlin, Draco I-” Harry cut the words off, desperate not to have that between them until he knew Draco wanted it.

“Harry," Draco said, "I’ve spent half my life thinking of ways to get your attention. I'm not giving that up now.”

Harry had pulled him back into the bed then, saying, “You and me, together.”

"Together."