Confessions of an Ex-Death-Eater

Sunday 30th December 2007

'Perhaps we should get back then.' Harry smiled, 'you know, according to Mione, I gave up everything and grew old immediately, that includes always getting an early night. This is late for me. I'm very boring really, Draco.'

'I don't think so, Harry. I like you just the way you are.'

They walked slowly back to the hotel, both slightly intimidated by what lay ahead. They even took a detour, meandering through the Theatre Gardens and down to the riverbank. They were very Definitely Not Looking at Each Other by the time they pushed open the door into the hotel foyer.

'Would you like a drink in the bar before we go up?' Harry offered lamely, his heart beating wildly.

'Er...' Draco fumbled, and Harry knew the offer would only prolong the agony of the anticipation of what was coming.

However, the receptionist intervened, 'Mr Potter,' he called across from the desk. Harry went over, slightly bashfully. 'I'm afraid there's been a bit of problem with your room. We've taken the liberty of moving your things to Room 7 under the watchful eye of your mother-in-law.'

'A problem? My mother-in-law?' Harry faltered.

'Yes, she phoned down about a plumbing problem in the ensuite. I can assure you nothing was damaged. I hope you'll find your new room most satisfactory.' The receptionist pushed a key across the desk to Harry. 'And as an apology for the disruption, we've left a bottle of champagne in the room for you and your husband.' He looked at Draco who was now standing beside Harry with his eyebrow raised and his default disdainful Malfoy expression and Harry knew it was a stock reaction because he was on tenterhooks about their current situation as much as Harry was.

'I can assure you, sir,' Harry was nearly growling, 'that Mr Malfoy and I are not...'

'Come on, Harry,' Draco interrupted. 'I'm sure it will be fine.' He grabbed both the key and tugged on Harry's sleeve to march them both off to their new room.

'What? Why?' Harry blustered.

'I didn't want an argument.' Harry looked at Draco for the first time since they'd left the pub. They stopped outside of the door of Room 7 and Draco unlocked it.

Harry's heart was thumping manically.

'But...'

'But what? There was a problem, they've solved it, we've got a free bottle of champagne out of it. Just shhh!' Draco put his finger on Harry's lips and Harry had to resist the conflicting urges of withdrawing away or kissing it.

'My mother-in-law...' he asked.

'Shhh! Stop over-thinking everything.'

Harry's shoulders slumped and suddenly he felt very tired.

'Come on,' Draco said softly and he pushed open the door.

'I can't do this...'

'You can, you're a bloody Gryffindor who defeated the Dark Lord. This is just you and me and a shared bedroom. Shall we?'

Draco gently took his hand, interweaving their fingers, and Harry could feel that slight shake that Draco had spoken of. Draco led him into the room. Then suddenly pulled up short and Harry collided into Draco's back.

Harry gulped, then muttered, 'your fucking mother!'

The room was beautiful, furnishings of deep purples and dark silvery greys which framed a rather daunting king-size bed.

Draco's overnight bag sat on the end of the bed next to Harry's.

Harry took a deep breath and, choosing to ignore what confronted him, muttered, 'do you want to use the bathroom first?'