"Draco! Draco! You have to see this-" Pansy flung his curtains back and flinched away just as quickly, "UGHH! Why are you naked?! Put on some pants!"

Draco slowly pushed himself up, sleepily grabbing the pair of Harry's joggers hanging half off the bed, "It's saturday, and I've finished a week of brewing, why shouldn't I do whatever the fuck I want? You're the one coming into my room unannounced."

"You don't sleep in the nude, ever," Pansy said.

"Yeah well," Draco said, looking around as he realised Harry was gone. He pouted at the other, empty side of the bed, "I had company."

"Are you decent?" Pansy said impatiently.

"No."

"Hurry. Up!" Pansy snapped.

Draco rolled his eyes and slowly, awkwardly pulled the joggers on without standing and falling back onto the pillow as soon as his arse was covered, "done."

Pansy sat next to him, holding a magazine in front of his face.

It was the most recent issue of Witch Weekly, and the picture on the front was-

Draco sat up, grabbing the magazine out of Pansy's hands. He stared at Harry's face, "...Is this what he was doing the other night?"

"Hey!" Pansy protested.

In the photo Harry was staring straight ahead, his gaze unwavering, the only sign that it was a moving photograph was his hair, slipping back over his forehead. They had tried to push his hair back to better show his famous scar, but Harry's hair had decided otherwise. Draco wondered how long they had struggled with it before just accepting they weren't going to get a better photo.

The cover lead read, Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter, Moving On and Growing Up in a Postwar World, by Miho Aikyo

"Push over," Pansy said, "I haven't read it either, I came straight here."

Draco moved over so Pansy could squeeze in beside him to read over his shoulder. He flipped past pages of fashions and hairstyles, household and beauty charms to the article near the back. There was another full page picture of Harry in profile, he was sitting on examining table at St. Mungo's looking tired and a little lost, swinging his legs back and forth as he waited.

Draco started reading.

I don't know what I expected when Harry Potter asked to do an interview with me, but it wasn't sitting in St Mungo's late one night waiting for a full potions report back from a rather harried looking healer.

It had been a stipulation of the interview and with Mr Potter- "Harry," he insisted-and with Harry being so notoriously private, it was one I was quick to accept. Despite this Harry apologised, "Sorry, I know it's late." I wasn't concerned about the time, only curious about its reason.

His young life has been filled with sensational reporting, often with stories that were untrue, exaggerated or blatantly written to vilify him. With the war over, the news now reports the best of Harry, and instead takes every opportunity to target those around him.

"You might have seen the article the Prophet ran recently about me and Draco Malfoy," Harry said, his voice quiet but filling the empty white room-

Pansy gripped Draco's arm, practically holding her breath, "fucking merlin and morgana..."

-There weren't many who hadn't or heard the many rumours that followed. Harry had always avoided reporters for just that reason. But this latest article from the Prophet changed his mind.

After it ran, an argument between Harry and Draco Malfoy, "a kids thing, no worse than the sort of shouting we used to do," resulted in an all-out battle. Harry doesn't blame the other students who threw spells at Draco, "they're kids, they went through a war. We're all a little messed up," in fact, and most telling of his character, Harry blames himself.

"If I had talked before it wouldn't have gotten so bad," Harry said, looking at his feet, "Draco could have died because I thought I could just ignore the article and it would go away, even though that's never worked." he laughed humourlessly.

The story Harry tells is grim, an argument between teenagers mistaken for a fight between enemies of war, and students traumatised by fighting reacting without thinking. Not all casting spells at Draco Malfoy, some hiding or running, some just crying, but one of those students that did cast a spell cut Draco in the side with a severing charm. As Harry recounts it, looking sick and so terribly young, if the spell had hit a few inches to the side, Draco Malfoy would be the one sitting in St Mungos. I didn't think he would have died, but I wasn't in the Battle of Hogwarts and seen what far too many of our young people had, perhaps he might have.

"The Prophet calls itself a newspaper," Harry said, "but it's more like a tabloid, telling whatever lies will sell more papers. I don't know if everyone working there is bad or if it's just a few shite reporters like Skeeter and Dour. But the Prophet hires them so they must be okay with what they're doing. I'm not."

Draco felt like he was holding his breath, light-headed and shaky. He turned the page and kept reading.

This isn't the first time a Prophet article has vilified someone in Harry's life, but before the resulting harassment was in words, letters, howlers, it never got anyone hurt. I pointed out that he had never been friends with someone like Draco Malfoy before.

Harry's expression darkened, and he spoke defensively. I couldn't help but suspect that he has had this argument many times before. "Draco was just trying to protect his family. I wasn't any different, I fought to protect my friends, my family. He wasn't a truly bad person even then, he couldn't kill Dumbledore when his and his families lives were on the line and when he could have identified me and handed me over to Voldemort, he didn't. We were so young, only fifteen when Voldemort came back-" he paused looking lost, "It feels like it was a lot longer than that."

For him it was. From the stories brought to light slowly in the wake of the final battle, I, and many others were shocked to discover that Voldemort's first attempt at returning was when Harry was eleven years old, with the help of one of his followers the Defence against Dark Arts Teacher Quirinus Quirrell. Although he hasn't spoken of what happened, Harry stopped him then too, and many times after that.

"The war is over, and everyone is just trying to move on and live a normal life, or something close to it. Draco's the same. He's been working so hard." Harrylooked at me with an expression so world-weary and knowledgeable I couldn't have turned away if I wanted, "My godfather Sirius once told me that there's light and dark in all of us and it's what we choose to act on that makes us who we are.

"All I want is for people to judge Draco for who he is now. He's earned that."

The door opened, and we both went quiet as the healer came in. He told Harry that all their tests and spells, charms and scans, had shown- nothing. He wasn't dosed by a love potion or being controlled by an Imperius. He was perfectly healthy and normal.

Harry asked for a copy of the results and then handing them to me.

The next page was a picture of the St. Mungo's report, written in surprisingly neat handwriting for a healer. Draco barely glanced at it, he knew Harry was fine, flipping to the last page of the interview.

Harry straightened then, his words as serious as I had heard them the entire time we had been talking, "People are always saying I'm being controlled or manipulated, so now that I've proved that's not true, with witnesses and written proof, I want to make a statement.

"I will never give an interview, or a statement to the Prophet, official or unofficial and anything they write about me is a lie. Until they fire reporters like Skeeter and Dour, start telling the truth and apologise for everything they've done to me and my friends, I will never be affiliated with them. That goes for anyone that works with them as well."

I remarked that that was a very bold statement and Harry said that it was a long time coming after everything they've done.

Although I would have happily spoke for another two hours Harry needed to get back to school. The hero of the wizarding world had classes in the morning. I had to laugh at the idea.

"You think it's funny, but I finally get to have a normal school year, one where no one's trying to kill me for once." Harry grinned, shaking my hand as we parted ways, "I couldn't imagine anything better."

Pansy sighed and sat back, "I suppose I have to help the fuckwit now."

Draco sniffed and tried to blink back tears, his heart feeling too full to bear.

They both looked up as the door opened just wide enough from someone to slip through and then shut, and Harry was there as his disillusionment charm dispelled, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Draco said with a voice that didn't wobble and go high pitched in the slightest.

"He's happy," Pansy said, standing up. She grabbed the corner of the magazine Draco was still clutching onto and lifted up so Harry could see.

"Oh. That's-" Harry said, sounding nervous and embarrassed, "I couldn't remember when it was coming out. He set a tray on the desk, "I brought you breakfast."

Draco bit his bottom lip, desperately trying not to cry, "You bastard."

Pansy rolled her eyes, grabbing the cuff of Harry's jumper and jerking him over to the bed, stepping past and taking his place by the desk, looking through Draco's bookbag.

Harry hesitated, "I know the article won't fix everything, but it should help."

Draco put the magazine safely aside and took Harry's hand, sniffling with as much dignity as he could manage, which was embarrassingly little.

Harry took a deep breath and sat down beside him.

Draco cupped Harry's face in both hands and kissed him.

"...You are happy, then?" Harry said.

"Yes, very, very happy," Draco said, kissing him again.

"Told you. He's just overwhelmed," Pansy said, pulling open drawers on Draco's desk and rifling through the papers, "He cries when he's overwhelmed, happy or sad. Good luck with that."

Draco glared at her, "Go away."

"I'm stealing something," Pansy said idly. She paused, pulling out a sheet of parchment covered in handwriting, "Found it." She folded the parchment into a neat square slipped it into her pocket before grabbing Draco's chair, pulling it with her to the door.

Pansy pausing with her hand on the doorknob, "We're going to talk later, Potter."

"We are?" Harry said warily.

"I've decided to help you," Pansy said.

Harry looked at Draco and back at her, "Alright?"

Pansy took out her wand and cast a charm at the chair, quickly leaving the room, the chair followed as if pulled by an invisible string and firmly wedged itself under the handle, locking the door shut behind her.

"Finally," Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders, kissing his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. Harry's breath caught, his hands gripping Draco's waist.

Draco pressed a kiss under Harry's ear and up his jaw, feeling Harry's hands tighten.

"You're wearing my joggers," Harry said his voice rough.

"Yes," Draco said, "Do you like when I-?" gasping as Harry slipped a hand down to squeeze his ass.

Harry grinned for just a brief second before kissing him again, pulling away only to kiss a line down Draco's neck, and in the hollow of his throat. "Up," he said absently, his head already dipping to kiss down Draco's chest.

Draco's heart stuttered as he pulled his legs up onto the bed, the frame creaking as he knelt on the mattress. They had never gone beyond frotting and hand jobs, and Draco hadn't wanted to push but-

Harry dropped his arm, wrapping it around Draco's thighs. He pulled off his glasses and tossed them into the rumpled blankets, kissing Draco's stomach.

Draco shivered at the touch, feeling too sensitive, feeling too much.

"Is this okay?" Harry asked, kissing the ridge of his hip.

Draco's whole body twitched, and he had to grab onto Harry's shoulders to stay up. "mhmm," he nodded frantically, his breathing short.

Harry tightened his arm around Draco, holding him in place as hooked one finger in the waistband of the grey joggers and tugged them down just enough to release Draco's cock. He stared at for a second before his tongue darted out, licking the bead of pre-come from the tip.

Draco shuddered, squeezing Harry shoulder as Harry licked and kissed down the length of Draco's cock, exploring it maddeningly slowly.

"Stop- teasing," Draco gasped, a tear blinking free and trailing down his cheek.

Harry looked up, his eyes dark, "Overwhelmed in a good way?"

"Ver-y good," Draco panted.

Harry licked his lips and slipped his mouth around Draco's cock. Draco let out a strangled cry. Harry kept moving, too slowly, going a little deeper each time. Draco pressed his hand into Harry's hair, grabbing loose handfuls of thick black hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, an errant tear dripping off his eyelashes onto his fingers.

Draco wasn't sure of the sounds coming out of his mouth any more, if they were whimpers or moans or if he cared. He was burning up, everything in him centred on the places Harry was touching him as everything else faded away.

"Ha-rry," Draco breathed, pouring all his heart into Harry's name.

Harry looked up, his tongue curled around Draco's cock, his mouth hot-

Draco tugged on Harry's hair, "C-coming," he managed, the words catching in his throat as he came, drowning a wave of pleasure that made the world go white.

Draco panted, sweat cooling on his skin, his hair sticking to his forehead. His whole body trembled, feeling utterly drained and boneless

He combed his fingers through Harry's hair, down his neck and over his shoulders; as Harry eased him down, back onto the bed.

Draco sighed as Harry's cleaning charm rolled over him like a cool wave. A rather large part of himself wanted to fold into the warm, pleasant exhaustion and fall asleep but he pulled his eyes open. Harry was watching him, with an intensity that made him shiver all over again.

"Don't. I must look horrible," Draco said holding up his hand to block Harry's view.

Harry pulled Draco's hand out of the way, "...You look gorgeous."

Draco flushed, "Liar."

"If anything, I'd say you look debauched."

"Where in the world did you learn a word like debauched?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. He laid down beside Draco, propped up on one elbow, "Wherever I learned it, it suits you."

Draco had to smile, "You like that that you made me debauched."

"Maybe."

Draco patted around the sheets until he found Harry's glasses, rolling on his side as he set them crooked onto Harry's nose, "I liked that you debauched me."

Harry laughed and righted his glasses. He took Draco's hand, tracing his knuckles and down his fingers, "Did you read the whole thing?"

"The interview? Yes." Draco nodded.

"And?" Harry prompted.

"And?" Draco repeated.

Harry squeezed his hand, "Come on. Do you think it was alright?"

"It was brilliant."

Harry smiled tentatively. "I was afraid I'd just make it worse somehow."

Draco shook his head.

"Your mother helped. With what to say and how to do things. She's sent a lot of letters."

Draco dipped his head in embarrassment, "She didn't really send you essays did she?"

"One was three feet of parchment," Harry said, "I had to use a translation spell because I couldn't make out her fancy cursive."

Draco smiled at him fondly, "I adore you."

Harry paused.

Draco bit his bottom lip, "Was that too much?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "It's- you're going to think I'm stupid."

"I'm not a legilimens, so you have to tell me first," Draco said.

"Sometimes it's hard to believe you want me," Harry said.

Draco doubted anyone would turn down a chance to be with Harry Potter, but he also knew that wasn't what Harry meant.

"If you're stupid then so am I."

Harry slowly smiled, "Yeah?"

"You don't have to worry so much. I've nearly figured you out now."

"You have?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Draco said confidently, "You're rubbish with words, so I have to watch your actions. They're far more eloquent. I've just started learning them, but I'm very clever so it won't take long."

"Clever and full of yourself," Harry said.

Draco poked Harry's arm, "With good reason. I one of the most impressive people I know."

Harry snorted.

Draco grinned, "You notice I said one of, that's because I'm terribly modest as well."

Harry laughed, "You are the least modest person I have ever met."

Draco put his hand to his chest, pretending to be offended, "Me? I'm-"

His stomach gurgled, embarrassingly loudly.

Harry laughed even harder.

Draco flushed, frowning at him.

"Hungry? I'll grab the tray," Harry said, starting to pull away.

Draco held onto his arm, "Don't. Stay."

"For how long?" Harry asked with a smile.

"Forever, of course," Draco said.

Harry's smile grew, he kissed Draco's shoulder and sat up, "I'll only be a second. And then we can spend the rest of the afternoon in bed."