Defense

{7~epilogue}

A/N: Huge Chapter, just a warning. 

Harry had gone back to the castle in a drift, feeling quite exposed and left out. He had kissed Draco Malfoy of all people, after the idea got in his head, as did the liquor, that the blond had some type of feelings for him. Obviously, since Harry had gotten pushed off and almost literally left for dead, that had not been the case.

The next morning did not make him feel any better. Ignoring the pounding headache, he felt like the largest arse on all the planets that existed in this universe, and all the others. He'd finally had a good friendship with Malfoy, and in a single night he'd gone and mucked it up like he was destruction itself. Why had he listened to Harley? She barely knew either of them, and couldn't have imagined what it was that they'd been through together.

Harry didn't even like men!

It was obviously Draco's femininity that allowed him to fancy the bloke, for Harry couldn't see it any other way. If he hadn't been a complete tosser, Harry could have made a joke to Draco next time he saw him about his supposed femininity. Alas, it seemed they were both quite out of luck now.

Harry rubbed his eyes, and got up from his bed. It was a ruddy day, and he really did not feel like an adult in the slightest, so he hoped that no one would try and expect it of him. Really, though, this drama at his age! He was almost 40, things like this should not be relevant. He was an adult, and by Dumbledore he was going to act like one!

So, promptly, he sat down at his desk and composed an apology letter to Draco, explaining how he had been very drunk the past evening, and while that did not excuse his asinine behavior, it was heartfelt and completely unintentional. At least this would hopefully save his arse even just a little. It was just a shame he'd made Malfoy feel so uncomfortable that he'd had to leave.

He was a real piece of work.

Harry then promptly got dressed and went on a hunt for coffee. While tea was nice and didn't taste at all bitter, coffee was the only cure for hangovers he'd ever found worked for him. So, he found a cup in the Great Hall at the high table and then left almost as quickly as he'd came.

McGonagall didn't say anything as she watched him stride in then out, which was mighty generous of her, Harry thought. He wondered what she would think if she knew her Gryffindor Head of House had been so reckless the prior evening.

Of course, fate did so love to torture him.

Harry stepped into his office, and found one Draco Malfoy occupying it. How he even got in was beyond Harry, but Harry thought briefly to himself that he did not die and come back to life just so he could have adult drama like this.

"How'd you get in here?"

Draco shrugged, looking rather calm. Maybe he didn't even remember their little event? That would sure make sense, since it seemed that he was very much a light-weight drinker.

"I dunno, just sort of..." he flicked his wand, and Harry laughed, though he tried very hard to keep it to himself. There was ease, and he couldn't help but hope that nothing had stuck to Draco's memories.

"Is everything okay? Scorpious is doing really well," Harry offered, though he didn't want to pry an uncomfortable topic from the man's lips.

"Yeah, everything's quite well, actually. I... well, there's something from last night that I'm truly hoping is what happened. I don't want to suppose, because I can't imagine I would have just run off like I did, but I have reasons for that, if you're willing to confirm my story."

Harry had stopped breathing. So the coy bastard had remembered then? He tried very hard to keep from getting excited when Draco spoke because he wasn't angry, no, he sounded pleased if anything. Harry could get behind pleased.