Once again, Draco walked him home, holding his hand and lightly swinging their arms back and forth. He was so easy to talk to, and Harry thought maybe that came from the fact he was just kind to Harry. He listened to what he had to say, he asked questions, he laughed at his stupid jokes. He made Harry feel free in a way he hadn't with anyone else before.

"Do you want to come up?" he asked tentatively, remembering the last time when Draco had politely refused. But his pale pink lips had split into a wide, bashful grin.

"I'd love to," he'd replied.

Harry should have known there was trouble waiting for them from the several text messages Ron had sent him asking what time he'd be back, because even before he opened the door the sounds of a party could be heard, and he froze in horror with what he knew was to come.

Draco though just chuckled and pulled him along the last few steps of the corridor. "It's fine," he assured him, but Harry wasn't so sure.

As expected, the door opened to a flat full of Harry and Ron's friends. Seamus and Dean had joined them again, as well as Neville and Luna, Ron's sister Ginny and her friends Hannah and Susan. There was a chorus of cheers as the party registered the door had opened and Harry was stepping through with Draco, and the two of them could do little to resist as they were swept up into the mêlée.

The evening passed in a blur of music, dodgy punch, an even more ridiculous amount of pizza than Harry was used to, games, and way too many intrusive questions, most of which involved every single member of the group asking both Harry and Draco separately if they'd done it yet. Harry felt like he'd regressed several years into secondary school.

But he couldn't deny it was fun, and it didn't escape him that his friends were treating Draco like a prince returned home, fawning over him and telling him how lovely and gorgeous and funny he was. Harry had briefly wondered why they were being so nice. And then he'd realised.

They had really hated Mac.

Fuck, he'd been such a moron.

Luckily though, the evening eventually came to an end, and Draco showed no inclination of leaving when most of their other guests had. In fact, he allowed Harry to slip them both into his room when the others were hugging goodbye for the third time. "Do you want to stay?" Harry asked shyly, taking Draco's hands, and he nodded back just as coyly.

Harry had an en suite, which he never appreciated more as he and Draco shared his toothbrush, stood only in their t-shirts and boxers. It felt stupidly domestic and normal and Harry's heart sang.

"Come here," Draco said once they had flicked off the main lights, leaving only Harry's bedside lamp. He took Harry's hand and lead him to the bed with a look on his face that Harry even his slightly inebriated state could recognise as reverence.

They lay on the bed, and for the first time since their first serendipitous meeting, began kissing gently. Draco traced his fingertips along Harry's body, and Harry found his own hand drifting through Draco's silky soft hair. Slowly, their clothes peeled off, until it was just skin on skin, bodies undulating as one as Harry let go of his worries and his fears, and made love to Draco, tenderly, cautiously, but most sincerely.

As they lay wrapped in a mess of blankets drifting slowly off to sleep, he thought of how Draco had come to his rescue at the start, and in a way, had carried on rescuing him ever since. Until now. Harry felt saved, in a way that struck him down to his core. He was himself again, and he still might need help, but he was ready to be everything he could for Draco.

He was done hiding, he was done taking steps back. He was done with Mac and his pathetic games.

He was ready, he was excited and he was happy. And somehow, he knew that was going to be enough.

The End

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