The Mark of a Civilised Man, Part 2.

[jamie2109]

"Harry, I think you should come and listen to this," Hermione called. Harry finished cutting his sandwich, picked up his drink and made his way to the lounge where Ron and Hermione were sitting listening to the wizarding wireless.

"What's up?" he asked, taking a seat on the couch beside Hermione.

"Sh, they're talking to Umbridge," she replied. "Ron, turn it up."

Ron dutifully did as he was bid but not without a roll of his eyes and a wry grin at Harry who returned it. Both of them accepted that Hermione liked to boss them around; Harry knew it was one reason Ron had grown out of his crush on her not long after the end of the war. Apparently while they were in danger it was all right because she was the brains of the outfit and she always knew best. After the war, when there was no need for that level of trust and quick thinking, her bossiness had worn thin. Still they were both happier being friends and that suited Harry just fine, too. He didn't have to play relationship counsellor, which was just as well because he was pretty shit when it came to sorting out emotional problems that weren't his own.

Harry turned his attention to the radio to hear the girlish tones that never failed to make his stomach clench.

Dyllis, in light of recent attacks on the poor Muggleborn witches and wizards, it seems prudent to reassess the situation regarding the convicted Death Eaters in custody. Forgive me …

Harry cringed as he heard that revolting little laugh.

… but it would be remiss of the Ministry to overlook the potential for evil that these people represent.

Are you suggesting then, Miss Umbridge that the Ministry look at creating new laws that allow for extending sentences of Death Eaters?

I would suggest that these Death Eaters be exiled, Dyllis, as you very well know. I have been campaigning on that platform since the beginning.

Your rivals in this election campaign have different views. Mister Potter suggests a term of community service and a restriction on the spells allowed. With Mister Potter being such a hero to everyone, what do you say to that?

If I might make the teeniest observation, Dyllis. I think I know Mister Potter better than most people, having taught him at Hogwarts, and it is my opinion that he has a history of showing little respect to our laws. Several of the Education decrees I was required to issue in my tenure there related directly to the activities of Mister Potter.

Ron snorted. "I reckon she might have shot herself in the foot with that one, Harry," he said. "Everyone knows that as a teacher she stunk as bad as Merlin's saggy drawers."

"People have short memories when it comes to some things," Hermione argued. "She's not making any huge claims against Harry, just intimating that he was a bit of a troublemaker. She's not even lying, really, you were," Hermione said, giving Harry a comforting smile.

"Not like I didn't have a valid excuse, though," Harry grumbled although he knew she was right. Suddenly he didn't feel like his sandwich anymore.

So, if you were to be elected, what would you do?

Dyllis, were I to be elected I would press the Minister to enact an emergency decree, of which I would be only too honoured to head as High Overseer, which would state that the High Overseer had supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges as pertains to inmates of Azkaban, with the power to alter such punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges as may be ordered by the Wizengamot. *

So you would have the power to override the Wizengamot in matters of sentences?

Well, someone must be seen to be protecting the public, Dyllis, and I would see it as my duty to ensure and oversee their safety.

I see. I suspect that Mister Malfoy would argue against this decree as he claims that under the present laws once a prisoner has served his or her sentence they should be free to rejoin society.

Forgive me, Dyllis, but Mister Malfoy would allow these prisoners free access to the very people that were victims in the war. I have it on good authority that he and Mister Potter have become very close friends of late. Mister Potter is easily led and one would hope that Mister Malfoy is not using their …

There was another girlish, breathy giggle here that made Harry feel ill.

… closeness to influence him in other unnatural ways.

What are you implying, Miss Umbridge?

Why, I am not implying anything, dear Dyllis, but Mister Potter and Mister Malfoy meet regularly and I feel rather sidelined by my opponents. But then I am a fussy old woman and those two very young men obviously have other things to discuss.

"Bloody hell, turn it off, Ron!" Harry exclaimed.

"She's doing it again," Hermione said, a deep frown on her face. "Did you recognise that decree she was blathering on about?"

"No, why?" Ron replied after switching off the radio and the irritating voice.

"I remember," Harry said soberly. "That was almost word for word from one of her Educational Decrees back in school. The one she used to override McGonagall's punishment of me and George for thumping Malfoy at that Quidditch game."

"Exactly, Harry, she's trying to set herself up as the one with the power again. Legislating people into submission through fear. Once she gets you into the prison system she can do whatever she likes with you."

"People aren't going to fall for that, Hermione," Ron disagreed. "The rest of the Wizengamot won't give her that sort of power. Will they?"

"You remember what she was like, Ron. Somehow she had the ear of the Minister and he gave her whatever she wanted. It wouldn't take much for her to scheme and plot to do the same with key members of the Wizengamot."

"She's not learned one thing, has she?" Harry asked.

"It appears not. And people will give her that power unless this person attacking Muggleborns is caught. People will get scared there's another Voldemort on the way."

"Then we have to stop her. You just have to get elected instead, Harry," Ron said gloomily. Then he brightened. "No problem. You're leading the polls anyway and once we get you some airtime you can refute every word she says."

"I'd rather just ignore her and hope she goes away," Harry replied. "And where does she get off insinuating that stuff about me and Draco?"

"Insinuating what?" Ron asked, mystified.

"That were more than friends, or weren't you listening to the same thing?"

"But you aren't more than friends, so what's the big deal?"

"We could be," Harry admitted quietly waiting for the explosion.

It never came. Harry looked up and saw Ron looking at him blankly. Then he shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat, mate."

"It's a good thing we're attending all your dinners from now on, isn't it?" Hermione added.

"Yeah, well he can't afford any more adverse publicity either."

"Hopefully the public is as thick as Ron regarding that insinuation and they won't pick up on it," Hermione said.

Harry wasn't sure there was much chance of that and he sighed and rubbed his hands through his hair, frustrated that there appeared little he could do to stop people listening to Umbridge's rubbish. He looked at his poor sandwich sitting on the plate and smashed his fist into it, flattening it.

.o0o.

Draco read the report in his hand for about the tenth time that day. He'd discussed it with Thaddeus when he'd delivered it and again with Wendell Hoggs and they'd both been of the same opinion. There was a lot of circumstantial evidence, but no proof. There was nothing he could do about any of it without more information and some hard evidence.

It all boiled down to one thing, though. Umbridge was behind the attacks on the Muggleborns, if not directly, then by association.

Harry needed to know this information, so he'd sent him an owl asking him over to the flat for dinner that night. This was not something that could be dealt with in a letter or in a public forum.

He left the report on the table and went to prepare. He dressed neatly, if casually, not unaware that he would have Harry in his own place, alone. Not that he could do or expect anything; it was too dangerous. But the fervent wish was there and he hoped both of them would remain sensible and mature about this situation.

The doorbell rang and he gave himself one final cursory glance in the mirror before he went to greet his guest.

Opening the door, he smiled at Harry who handed him a bottle of wine and entered. Sometimes Draco regretted his choice of career. Almost any other one and he'd be able to act on this attraction he had developed for Harry. Especially as he looked rather edible. So edible that it made him frown.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just lamenting the fact that I will have you here all to myself all evening and not be able to do anything about it," he replied with forthright honesty. Something about Harry Potter made him want to be upfront with him. He saw Harry's eyes soften into regret as well.

"Well I hope you don't have reporters camped out on your front lawn or no matter what we do or don't do, they'll make up their own stories anyway."

"Oh, you caught Umbridge's unfortunate observations, did you?"

"And pretty much admitted to Ron and Hermione that we could have had a relationship, or something like one, had we not been involved in this election campaign."

Draco led Harry to the lounge and indicated that he sit. Then he took a seat opposite. "How did they take that? Or rather how did the Weasel take that? Granger already assumed as much."

"He was good, actually."

Draco raised an eyebrow but refrained from making any comment. He wasn't going to get into an argument about the Weasel; they had more important matters to discuss.

"He was!" Harry insisted. Draco nodded and directed the house-elf to bring them drinks and serve dinner in ten minutes.

"I'll take your word for it," he said, reaching for the report Thaddeus had given him.

"So, there was something you wanted to speak to me about?" Harry asked, looking curiously at the report in Draco's hands.

"Hm," Draco started. "It has to do with our favourite political opponent. I've had someone very trustworthy following her and looking into who she sees and where she goes. Surveillance that isn't covered by the press as part of her campaign. I'll bet you'll never guess who her private but rather constant companion is."

Harry shook his head.

"None other than Argus Filch."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock and Draco rather liked seeing it like that if the twist in the base of his stomach was any indication.

"I thought he would be dead by now," Harry said. "He was old when we were at Hogwarts. I suppose that might explain how someone got hold of your medical records, then."

"That is, unless it's some sort of coincidence."

Harry shook his head. "I doubt it. I remember Filch had this unhealthy obsession with her while she was there. I think she might have promised him he could torture rule-breaking students by using corporal punishments."

"Oh, now you have given me the most awful vision of Umbridge in chains and Filch salivating all over her." Draco shuddered.

Harry almost choked on his drink. "I'll remember that next time I need to stop thinking dirty thoughts about what I'd like to do to a certain someone."

Draco laughed. Although he thought it might come in useful for himself, if it came to that.

"That's not all, though. My investigator delved a little deeper, looking for something that might connect her to these attacks on Muggleborns. Filch has a brother, Artemis. Now while Filch is a squib, his brother isn't. The family is Halfblood and Artemis approached one of the old Pureblood families asking for permission to marry their daughter. Emmaline was only twenty-five years old and Artemis is in his seventies."

Harry scrunched up his nose. "I bet they rejected it."

"They did, but not for the grounds you might think. Age disparity has little relevance to Pureblood traditions of arranged marriages and Emmaline is considered to be way past marital age. I know her family quite well, and they have allowed her the option of choosing her husband herself. She wishes to marry for love, which is understandable."

"The only reason one should marry in my opinion."

"Oh, I don't know. Some of the best marriages I know are arranged, Harry. The need to continue the family line is strong in Pureblood traditions. We find ourselves weakened enough by the filtering in of Muggle blood. Don't look at me like that, I have nothing against Muggles anymore," Draco said, glaring at Harry.

"But you still perpetuate the division between wizards?"

Draco sighed. "It's a tradition. We are not bound by it and I certainly do not intend to marry but as an option, yes. Over the centuries the families have become adept in choosing well."

Harry gave him a doubtful look. "Anyway, I gather they rejected him because he is a Halfblood?"

"That was the impression they gave him, yes, but it would have actually been because she did not wish it."

"Why would they have told him that?"

"Tradition, again. Because marrying well is tradition, rejection on grounds of blood or family isn't personal, therefore no offence is meant or should be taken. It's a business transaction."

Harry shook his head. "All right, say that's why he was rejected, where does this become relevant?"

"Artemis took offence. Apparently he saw the girl and decided she would be the one to take care of him in his dotage and hasn't taken kindly to the rejection. Swearing revenge on Pureblood families, in fact."

Sighing, Harry finished off his drink and asked for another. "So, there's the connection. Someone wanting to show the Dark families in a bad light could easily influence him into these acts. I assume you have no proof that Artemis was involved."

"No, only assumptions. But I thought you should know. My contact will be staying close to him and if it is him then he will be able to stop the next attack."

"Your connection an Auror or something?" Harry asked.

"Something like that," Draco replied, giving him a meaningful look. After a second, Harry's eyebrows rose and he nodded.

"We have to stop her," Harry said.

"I know." He could only hope that Artemis would make a mistake that would enable Jacques to arrest him.

*

Hours later, dinner having been eaten and enjoyed, the two of them relaxed in the lounge, the fire both warming them and giving them something to look at. Something that Harry was extremely grateful for, because as the evening wore on and the alcohol did its thing with his inhibitions, he found it harder and harder not to stare at Draco. And he rather thought the firelight casting a golden glow on that pale skin might make it too difficult to restrain himself.

"Maybe I should go," he said, and reluctantly stood, swaying dangerously and barely catching himself on the arm of the couch.

"Perhaps you'd better not be seen in public in your current state of inebriation," Draco replied, putting an arm out to steady him.

"'M good," Harry said. "Your floor keeps movin' though." He blinked several times to try and get the room to stop spinning.

"Harry, you're sloshed."

Harry shook his head, balance restored now. "Nah, not too much. Just stood up too quick, that's all." Indeed, he did feel better now he was standing.

"Why don't you stay and sleep on the couch? I can assure you it's perfectly comfortable."

Draco's hand was still on his arm and he looked at it enquiringly for several seconds before raising his eyes to Draco's. Bad mistake, he told himself immediately, because before he could stop and think about it, he'd straddled Draco's lap.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

One hand came to rest on Draco's cheek and Harry bit back a quiet whimper when Draco moved imperceptibly into it. "Been wanting to touch you all night."

"I thought we agreed …"

"Don't care," Harry interrupted. "No one can see us in here. No one will know."

"Harry," Draco said in warning, but it was a weak, whispering protest and so Harry ignored it and leaned in to taste the lips that had been teasing him for months now.

Merlin, but it was worth the wait, he thought as his lips pressed against Draco's, moving in a slow dance that he knew could easily burst into a kaleidoscope of colours and textures and tastes brilliant enough to fill the night sky.

For several long moments they kissed, the slick sounds of their lips and tongues meeting, loud over the hurried breaths they snatched when they could bear to part long enough.

Then, just as Harry's hand slid inside Draco's shirt to feel the smooth, hard chest beneath, Draco placed a hand on his and stopped him.

"Harry, no," he said, sounding as breathless as Harry felt. "We can't."

"We can," insisted Harry.

"You're drunk and you'll feel awful about it in the morning."

"Merlin, you're stupid, Malfoy," Harry teased. "I could never regret this. I've wanted this for months and so have you."

Draco frowned. "I admit that, but we have an agreement."

Harry thought he looked bloody gorgeous under him with flushed cheeks and red kiss-swollen lips. He wanted nothing more than to kiss them some more, maybe bite them.

"Bloody hell, now you go all noble on me?" he said instead.

Draco's lip quirked at that. "Who'd have thought?"

"Who, indeed," Harry said, defeated. He slid off Draco's lap and back onto the couch. "All right, so where's these blankets then? And don't be surprised if they're sticky in the morning."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Use a cleaning charm, Potter."

"Might not. Might deliberately leave it there so you know what you missed," he grouched good-naturedly.

Draco stood and called a house-elf for bedding and then smiled down at Harry. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Draco, thanks for dinner."

Draco leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips once more time and then with a look of regret on his face, left the room.

When morning came and Harry woke feeling rather less than human, he sighed as the memory of the kiss came to him. It really was too bad that right when he'd found someone he might like to have more than a fling with, it was the wrong time and place and with the wrong person. Almost anyone else. But, no, it had to be Draco.

The kiss was definitely worth waiting for, though, even if he had been slightly tipsy. He sighed again in fond remembrance as he stood and collected his shoes, jacket and tie and left by the front door.

Too caught up in the dull ache in his head and the memory of warm lips on his, he completely missed the telltale clicking of a camera.

.o0o.

It wasn't until that evening when the paper arrived that Harry had any idea he'd been photographed coming out of Draco's. By then it was too late. Splashed across the front of the paper was a picture of a man, clearly Harry, half undressed, shirt hanging out and mostly unbuttoned, hair that looked like it had been played with and pulled at all night and with a smile on his face that made him look like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

The accompanying article with the headline 'Is Harry taking a walk on the dark side?' was at least fair, he supposed. At least they didn't blame Draco. Mostly. Although they alluded to Draco's past, they didn't come right out and say that he'd bewitched the hero. Which was a blessing.

"Harry, how could you have been so stupid?" Hermione berated him.

"Nothing happened, Hermione. I'd just had a few too many drinks and slept on his couch. We didn't want any nosy reporters catching me leaving his place late at night."

"Instead they got you leaving his place looking like you'd been shagging all night."

Merlin, but she had a shrill voice, Harry moaned silently. "I know, I know," he replied impatiently, trying to hide the bloody awful feeling that he'd just fucked everything up.

"Well, you're going to spend the next few hours doing some damage control. You'll face the reporters and tell them exactly what happened."

"Yes, Hermione," he said, resigned to hours of plastering a smile on his face and withstanding a barrage of questions about his love life. Or rather his assumed love life. "I don't have to tell them exactly what happened, do I?" he asked cheekily. "The kiss and everything?"

Hermione spluttered and Harry saw Ron choke on his dessert. "What?"

"I kissed him."

Hermione looked ready to explode. She threw her hands in the air and with an exclamation of disgust, stormed from the room, muttering something about imbecilic boys who wasted months of good work by thinking with their dicks.

"It was a good kiss," Harry said in protest, more to himself than to anyone else.

Later, all in all, Harry felt he'd done a god job of explaining the situation and when Draco corroborated his story, he thought that the storm might just die away. However, the next day several other newspapers carried the story and included lengthy editorials on whether it was appropriate that both of them were 'fraternising with the enemy'.

When Umbridge weighed in with her opinions of same sex relationships that seemed to resonate with many of the older wizards, Harry's popularity suffered greatly and he slipped in the polls to the extent that he and Umbridge were virtually level.

While Harry had never really hidden his preference for male partners, he hadn't made a big issue of it either and so he found himself inundated with requests to speak at forums on gay issues. He took up several of them, Hermione deciding that seeing as he'd been outed as such, he may as well take advantage and try and win the gay vote. He'd tried to argue that he hadn't been outed as he hadn't officially admitted to preferring men but to no avail. When Hermione made up her mind, then nothing short of the apocalypse would make her change it.

.o0o.

Draco watched the slide of Harry's popularity with a sinking sense of doom. If he were to be honest with himself, he would admit that the likelihood of winning that seat himself was now practically nil. He'd probably been too optimistic right from the start going up against Potter. But with his backers behind him and many decent, well thought of community programs to highlight his commitment, he'd thought he had a chance.

They'd both made an elementary mistake in their search for the person attacking the Muggleborns and now they were paying for it.

Slowly but surely, Draco's dream of being a respected member of the wizarding community was slipping out of his grasp. If it had ever really been there in the first place, he acknowledged morosely. What had started with so much optimism was now floundering in the mire of innuendo, supposition and suspicion.

Even Wendell walked around the office looking despondent. He'd tried to make Draco take advantage of what little information they had on several other Wizengamot members, forcing them to come out in support of Draco, but Draco refused to run that sort of campaign.

With only two weeks to go, Draco had to face the fact that he was going to be unsuccessful this time.

He didn't even contemplate becoming annoyed that once again it was Harry Potter who had bested him. The irony was not lost on him, but it seemed pointless now. All those schoolboy fights and arguments seemed childish, were childish, now that they'd grown and Draco had developed some …fondness for the ex-Gryffindor. He did, however, curse the Gods that out of all the eligible blokes in the Wizarding world, he had to fall for the golden one, when careers, society and, in all likelihood, friends decreed it could never be.

The memory of that kiss had kept Draco awake for several nights, tossing and turning and wishing for something that was impossible. He knew it; Harry knew it and they'd denied any hint of it to the world. But it haunted him and he knew that had this chance at a seat in the Wizengamot not been so important to both of them that the scenario would have played out much differently.

As it stood now, though, there was a chance that it still could. He admitted to himself that there was no prospect of himself winning the seat and therefore he hoped Harry would, but as things were heading now, even that was looking less and less likely. Which meant that neither of them would be encumbered by protocol and free to pursue this thing between them.

It was tempting. More than tempting and the vision of finally having Harry bend him over that couch made him grit his teeth and groan in frustration.

But Umbridge could not be allowed to win.

That was more important than any physical, and perhaps even emotional gratification that a liaison with Harry would give him.

Heavy hearted, he sent an owl to Thaddeus asking for an appointment.

.o0o.

"I should have thought of opening the Floo to you weeks ago," Harry said smiling as Draco stepped through and brushed off an imaginary piece of soot from his shirt.

"Might have saved both of us a bit of grief, I agree," Draco replied. "But then I never thought of it, either."

"We hadn't really had a need for it before then, though."

"We learn something new every day, then," Draco said looking at Harry and giving him a warm smile. Draco realised that Harry didn't really dress any differently in public than he did in private, which, he admitted was just like Harry. Not an air or any grace whatsoever about him. It was a wonder Draco was attracted to him, really.

"Grab that bowl and come through. Ron and Hermione are out tonight, so we have the place to ourselves." Harry took two bottles of Butterbeer from the fridge.

"And you were planning on sitting around eating…what are these?" he asked, picking up the bowl and following Harry through to the lounge.

"You've never had crisps before?"

Draco shook his head.

"Just try some." Harry grinned as he sat down.

Draco narrowed his eyes, looking for a trick, but then shrugged and tried one of the oddly shaped objects. "Hmm," he said, pleasantly surprised at the salty flavour. "Not bad."

"Yeah, Muggles are good for some things," Harry teased.

"Give me that beer, Potter." Draco sneered playfully at him, taking the proffered beer and sitting beside him on the couch.

After a few moments, Draco took a drink from the bottle, and then he looked at the beer and then at Harry. "If you're going to force me to drink this swill, the least you could have done was to put it in a glass."

Harry laughed. "Put up with it, pretty boy."

Draco huffed but remained quiet and drank his beer. "So, what did you plan to do while you ate these crisps and drank the beer?"

"Well I was going to watch some porn, but I don't think that's terribly appropriate right now, do you?"

"Hmm, maybe another time, then," Draco replied, sounding distracted.

Harry gave him a funny look and then laughed. "This couch do?" he joked, patting the padded arm. "It's a good stro-"

Draco elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't tempt me," he said.

"All right," Harry replied. "So, if you're not here for sex, why are you here?"

"I had a question for you, actually," Draco said, looking at him carefully. "If you had to compromise one part of your released prisoner platform, which part would it be? The community service or the spell restriction?"

"Oh, a serious question, then?"

Much depended on Harry's response, so he was glad when the amused expression dropped from Harry's face and Draco could virtually see him thinking. It made him want to kiss away the frown lines from Harry's forehead.

To stop him thinking in that direction, he took another drink from the bottle, diverting his eyes.

"Well," Harry began. "I won't compromise on the community service. I think that will go a long way to reuniting them with those that might have been victims of Voldemort. It will allow doubters to see they've been reformed and paid the price we asked of them as punishment for their crimes."

Draco nodded. That was what he expected. "And the spell restriction?"

"The Ministry would be monitoring them throughout their community service and I suspect there'll be random wand checks so restricting the sorts of spells they can use isn't as important. I guess if I really had to compromise one to get the law passed, then that would be it. Why?"

"No reason," Draco replied mysteriously. "It might have all been a ruse to get you alone on your sturdy couch."

"A likely story, Malfoy," Harry retorted. But he was grinning.

Draco sighed. It was ridiculously unfair. "I hate this," he finally said, draining the rest of his Butterbeer, suddenly angry at the world. "Sorry, but I'm going to go."

Draco stood up and headed for the Floo. 'I'll see you later, Harry. Thanks for the beer."

"Wait!" Harry called jumping up and grabbing him by the arm, pulling him round. "What's the matter with you?"

Draco was about to wrench his arm free and snarl just so he could leave, go away where the temptation of Harry Potter wouldn't be mocking him with every breath. But when he turned, bright green eyes caught his in concern and he was trapped.

Involuntarily, he made a soft sound of distress. He had to leave; it would only take so little, just a tiny bit more before he-

"Draco?"

Oh, don't play fair, Potter, Draco complained silently, because it was an anxious whisper, designed to grate on Draco's restraint, irritating it enough to wear him down, surely.

"Let go of me!" His growl tapered off midway as Harry held him tighter. "Let go right now or I might-"

Harry smiled in understanding. "Give in?"

"Yes!" Draco snapped unthinkingly. "I mean no!" He shook his head, his eyes widening, but still Harry merely continued to hold his arm. He sighed when Harry did nothing else, just kept his hand where it was - never backing off, never letting go.

"Why don't you, then? No one even knows you're here." Harry's voice slithered up Draco's body like warm silk, teasing, caressing, and seducing him into relenting.

And his mind began to respond in kind, helpless against his own need and Harry's proximity. Why shouldn't he enjoy this just once? Merlin knew after the election it would be out of the question completely, so … He groaned as Harry pressed closer to him and he found himself back to the wall. A leg insinuated itself between Draco's thighs and Draco wanted to rub and rub against it until he came blindingly hard.

Harry's eyes still held his effortlessly in their spell, scant inches away and Draco felt his lashes flutter when Harry's breath wafted past.

Draco growled, deep inside. Fuck it, Harry was right. No one knew he was here; it barely mattered for his own career even if someone discovered them and in that event Harry could take care of himself.

Draco knew Harry was going to win and this would be his last chance, his only chance.

The growl forced it's way from his throat and Draco only had time to notice Harry's eyes widen slightly in reaction, before he ambushed Harry's lips, the ones he'd dreamed about since their last kiss. When Harry grunted at the onslaught, Draco crowed, jubilant, and slid his tongue into Harry's open mouth finding that willing heat as available and as tasty as last time.

He barely felt Harry's hands on his hips, but he could not fail to notice the hard length rubbing at his hip. One of them moaned; it could have been Harry, it could have been himself, but it didn't matter much as he quickly became aware that he was rubbing himself on Harry's leg. They were both pushing at each other; Draco's hands slid down to grab at Harry's arse to pull him closer, to work more desperately needed friction against his aching erection.

In dire need of a breath, Draco gasped harshly, lifting his head while he still gripped Harry's bum tightly, rocking into him. Then there were teeth at his neck and fuck if having Harry biting him didn't send his arousal into a frenzy of need. Powerful hands held him and forced a rhythm that dragged a whine from him as it felt so bloody good, but nowhere near enough.

He knew later he'd feel embarrassed by all the little needy noises he was making, but when he heard Harry moan, the thrill it sent through him, knowing he'd done that, made him realise how Harry probably appreciated knowing what effect he was having, too. After that, he barely even registered if he was making noises or not; he just gave himself over to the all-encompassing drive to hang on to Harry and hump his leg until he exploded.

"Harry," he gasped, teeth stinging his neck still and sending stabs of arousal sheeting straight to his cock. "I can't hang on any …"

"'S all right. Me either. Shit."

Even if he never got anther chance to do this, it would be worth it, was Draco's last coherent thought as his body clenched for orgasm and he came jerking and clutching at Harry, head smacking back onto the wall as he did so. He vaguely noticed that Harry pulled back from his neck and watched him as he came, but he didn't care and only just managed to hang on while Harry swore and shuddered with his own climax.

Several minutes later and Draco still had no regrets, although he thought perhaps they could have taken their time and at least undressed. He raised a hand to run through Harry's hair, feeling his head resting heavily on his shoulder.

"Well, that was …"

"Amazing. I don't know why we never did that before."

Draco frowned, the rush of responsibility crowding back down on him. There were several very pertinent reasons they had never done that before. Important ones. Draco felt stupid for letting his hormones get the better of him.

"Whilst it was very satisfying, it's not something that will be repeated. There is an election to be won and we've already had enough bad publicity about this."

Harry sighed. "I know."

"Then please let me go," Draco said, feeling edgy and in need of an escape route again. He had no desire to become all snuggly with Harry after their rather frantic frotting. He could tell himself that anyway; his body definitely wanted it and maybe his heart did, too, but his head was already jumping through the Floo home.

Harry stepped back, confusion on his face.

"I have to go, Harry, please?" His voice didn't really sound pleading at the end there, did it? He ignored Harry's frown and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. "I'm sorry, this was a mistake. It won't happen again," he said brusquely, calling out his destination and stepping into the flames, barely able to look at Harry in farewell.

When he arrived home, he slumped back against the wall, exhaling deeply feeling as if he'd run the boundaries at Hogwarts. If he could have afforded the self-pity, he thought he might cry, but he'd grown out of useless tears years ago.

He'd lied to Harry; what they'd just done could in no way be construed as a mistake. What their passion had ignited was something he'd rarely come across in his dating experiences. He didn't regret a thing and the memory of it would have to be enough to keep him going over the next several weeks, months, years. However long it took to overcome this crush.

Telling himself to get over it, he pushed away from the wall and headed for a shower. After cleaning up he slid into bed for an early night; plans for the coming day warring with the sensation of kissing Harry and ensuring he had a restless night's sleep.

.o0o.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention please?" Wendall called out above the crowd of journalists milling around the Atrium in the Ministry. He did not look happy and Draco accepted the reasons for that, seeing as he'd caused them, but in the end Wendall had been very professional when Draco had broken the news to him.

As the noise died down, Draco moved up beside Wendall and shook his hand before casting a Sonorous at himself and clearing his throat. When he looked around the room he saw Harry and his sidekicks standing to one side. Umbridge and her party were nowhere to be seen, which didn't surprise Draco, since he hadn't invited them.

"Ladies and gentleman, colleagues and friends," Draco started, giving Harry a warm smile. Harry looked puzzled but returned it eventually. "I've asked you all to come here today because I wish to announce that due to personal reasons I am withdrawing my candidacy for the seat in the Wizengamot as of today."

He stopped and waited for the noise to die away before he continued. He couldn't bear to look at Harry's reaction. He knew that Granger and the Weasel were probably rubbing their hands together and telling themselves that Draco withdrew because he couldn't win and was being a sore loser. Let them think what they wanted; Draco knew the reasons he was withdrawing and as long as his conscience was clear then that was all that mattered. But Harry might feel betrayed that he'd not said anything the night before.

Smiling, he held up his hand for silence. "I would like to thank all those that supported my petition and been open minded enough to allow the things that I stand for a fair hearing. My backers, the Pureblood families, would also like it to be known that they have decided to pledge their full support to Harry Potter in his campaign. We wish him all the best of luck. Thank you."

Draco stepped away, leaving the masses of journalists all firing questions at him, none of which he intended to answer. From the corner of his eye he saw Harry making his way over, pushing through several journalists that had noticed he was in attendance and were pressing him to answer questions.

But Draco kept walking past the barricade and making his way to the lifts in order go and make his withdrawal official. Harry caught up to him just as the door was closing and he held it open and stepped inside.

"What did you do that for?" were the first words out of his mouth. "I know how much this means to you, so why?"

"There was no way I was going to win this election, Harry, we both know it. At least this way we keep Umbridge out of the Wizengmot."

"You couldn't have told me this last night?"

"I think we had other things on our minds last night." Draco was looking at Harry fondly as Harry was running one hand through his thatch of messy hair and looking adorably Harry as he did so.

Harry stopped and stepped closer to Draco, narrowing his eyes. "That was why you asked me about compromise, wasn't it?"

Draco nodded.

"That was the price for the backing of the families?"

Draco could only nod once more. Harry was standing very close, after all. And he'd just walked away from one of the great goals in his life and was feeling rather exposed and vulnerable and he absolutely did not want Harry to take advantage of that.

"So, why last night? Why did you give in?"

"Because I needed it. I wanted to know exactly what it was I'd be giving up instead of wondering for the rest of my life."

"And what happens if I say I needed it too. I need it now and will need it for a long time to come?"

"You know that can't happen, Harry," Draco replied breath coming in short gasps as Harry moved forward and pressed him to the wall of the lift.

"We both know that with all your support thrown my way, I will win this election now, and these days, those seats are for life. It won't matter what people say about me then and if I want you with me, with me you shall be."

Harry's voice, the strength and passion it was laced with caused Draco to shiver lightly in lust, or desire, or more likely, hope.

"You've given up everything, Draco. You've sacrificed yourself for the greater good. When did you become such a Gryffindor?" Harry tried to joke, but the sudden finality and the enormity of what he'd done struck Draco and all he could do was try to remember to breathe.

A soft cheek nuzzled against his. "I'll need you with me to deal with those Pureblood families of yours," Harry said. "Please? We can teach people that there is nothing to fear from the Dark families, nothing to fear about being gay. We can do it together."

It was too much. Too much emotion, too much feeling, too much Harry. He took a deep breath and pushed Harry away. "Harry, don't push me, please. I didn't tell you anything last night because I didn't want you to feel obligated about anything at all. But all this…" he indicated between them both "…is too much like feeling obligated."

"Draco …" Draco held up his hand.

"Don't. Hear me out. I want you to think about it for a few weeks. Right now you're caught up in all the emotions of it. The thrill of victory." Draco smiled at him. "Give yourself at least until after the election to think about it. Let things settle down first or you will not do your reputation any good at all. You still have to actually win this election you know. There is still over a week to go."

"But I've known what I wanted for a long time now," Harry replied kissing Draco's nose.

"I know you think you do, but once you've been elected you might see things differently. Trust me, I'll probably be a liability to you and I'd hate that. Give it a few weeks and then if you're still interested, let me know."

Apparently, Harry saw the logic in the argument. Draco knew he was right; the public didn't need all the innuendo of the past weeks confirmed as true right away, or else they'd find many of their supporters defecting to Umbridge's camp, he was sure.

"You're being a bloody Gryffindor again. Who are you and where is the real Draco Malfoy?" Harry joked, but it was a sad joke. Draco could see the honest disappointment in Harry's eyes.

Draco allowed himself one small taste of Harry's lips. "The mark of a civilised man is the ability to make his own choices, Harry, and a true Slytherin knows the wisdom of retreat." He smiled. "By withdrawing from a fight I cannot win, I live to fight another day. There will be another seat maybe at a better time, when conditions are a bit more conducive to a win. I can fight then.

"And when you do, you will have my complete support. I will back you all the way."

"Thank you, Harry."

They pulled apart as the lift doors opened. Draco stepped out and turned to face Harry. "Goodbye."

"Not good bye, Draco. See you later," Harry said grinning. "In a few weeks I am going to come and find you and prove to you that I'm not kidding when I say I want you with me."

"We'll see," Draco replied.

The doors closed and Draco was left alone in the foyer of the electoral office, filled with a sense of satisfaction. He didn't have his career any longer, nor did he have his man, and that saddened him greatly, but there was hope for both in the future and for now they'd warded off the possibility of Umbridge winning the seat.

He felt good.

.o0o.

It appears that all has been for nought.

Someone will pay for this Argus.

Yes, milady.

Get my whip.

With pleasure.

.o0o.

Draco continued to feel good for the rest of the campaign. He refrained from contacting Harry for professional as well as private reasons, preferring to keep to himself and, for the moment, live quietly, overseeing the several community projects under his care.

Harry won the election, of course, and Draco celebrated along with everyone else.

A week after the election result was announced, Draco sat in his breakfast nook reading the paper while he sipped his morning tea. There was sun shining through his windows, underlining his feeling of well being even as it shed burnished streaks of light over his newspaper, making it impossible to read without squinting.

Still, he didn't need to read it for the seventh time to know what it said.

Artemis Filch had decided to take his frustrations out on another Muggleborn family after the election was held. Fortunately, Jacques had been there to arrest him. Under questioning, he'd admitted to being coerced into the crimes by his brother and Dolores Umbridge. Argus and Umbridge were tried quickly, as was custom in these cases. Argus Filch was sentenced to five years in Azkaban for inciting violence. Umbridge also received five years for the same crime, and Artemis was sent to Azkaban for the rest of his natural life.

Draco felt justifiably proud of his role in their capture.

He smiled as the sun went behind a cloud and enabled him to see the writing clearly once more, because the last part of the article was his favourite. The part where Harry Potter appeared to remind the public that they had placed their suspicions on an innocent man who had sacrificed his chances at the seat in the election because of them.

Harry went on to say that he felt both Draco and the Pureblood families were owed the deepest apologies that the Wizarding world could offer and their thanks because without the investigative work done by them, Artemis might never have been caught.

Draco felt that he might be waiting until hell froze over before receiving the thanks and the apology, but he didn't mind terribly much. That Harry had publicly said he thought he deserved them were thanks enough.

There was a kind of bittersweet happiness that settled in his chest when he thought of Harry, what they'd shared and what they could have shared. He had no regrets, but at times he cursed the fact that he'd grown a social conscience and couldn't just prostrate himself naked across Harry's couch and yell, "Take me!"

Telling Harry that he'd feel differently about Draco after a few weeks of being an elected official hadn't been a lie; nor had it been the wrong thing to say but as he sipped at his tea he wished that the hope he held deep inside that things could be different, would fade.

Surrounded by his melancholy dreams of strong, warm lips, the sound of the doorbell when it rang startled him. The ugly man who shoved parchment and quill in his face when he answered the door startled him more.

"Sign 'ere," the man said.

When Draco snatched the parchment away, he could see a long, cream couch floating serenely behind the ugly man.

Blinking in surprise, he said, "I didn't order a new couch."

"Dunno, 'bout that. Alls I know is ter deliver this 'ere to you," he replied. "'Ere, there's a note or sumfink." The man handed Draco a grubby note that looked like it had been stuffed in a dirty pocket. Draco quickly signed for the couch and stepped aside letting the piece of furniture float into the room.

He handed back the signed parchment and opened the note, thrills of anticipation fluttering in his stomach because all of a sudden he knew who it was from. He wasn't wrong.

The rest of his melancholy mood disappeared like the last wisps of fog on a spring morning as he read the note and smiled widely.

Draco,

It's a good strong couch.

I'll be there at eight.

Time to make that dream come true.

Harry.