SquidgeWorld Archive

Title: Sweet September
Author: Sevfan
Warnings: Fluff, WAFF

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling. They have been borrowed for entertainment purposes only.

Beta: Constant Vigilance, who never fails to steer me straight and true. You're the best.

Summary: Written for the Hex Files September Challenge: Use one of the following quotes as the first line in your story, no word limit.
1) "For the first time in seven years, Harry didn't want to come back."
2) "What do you mean Malfoy is Mr. September?"
3) 30 days hath September.

Sweet September

"What do you mean Malfoy is Mr. September?"

"He's this month's centrefold in Wicked, Harry," replied Hermione.

"You're having me on, aren't you? This has to be some kind of a wind-up."

"No, it's no joke. Here, look." Hermione held up the magazine for Harry to see and, sure enough, Draco Malfoy was gracing the cover.

"I'll be damned! You weren't kidding. Erm, Hermione, you said that he's the centrefold?"

"Yes. Why?"

"That doesn't mean that he's, well you know... does it?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Harry! How old are you? Ten? It's a centrefold and, yes, that means Draco is nude, starkers, naked as the day he was born. Take a look."

Harry shook his hands. "I'll pass, thanks. I have no desire to see Malfoy's bare arse."

Hermione grinned and said, "You see quite a bit more than his backside, Harry."

"What? Not interested. No way," said Harry, looking horrified at the thought.

"You're gay and you don't want to see a picture of a naked man?" asked Hermione incredulously.

"It's different. This is Malfoy we're talking about. I'll give it a miss."

Hermione waved the magazine teasingly in front of Harry saying, "Believe me, it's worth having a look. C'mon, take a peek."

"No," said Harry, shaking his head.

"You know you want to," cajoled Hermione.

"NO, I do not," stated Harry firmly. "Stop, don't..."

Before Harry could finish his statement, Hermione had flipped the pages of the centrefold open, exposing Draco in all his naked glory to Harry's unwilling gaze. Hermione was hard-pressed to contain a giggle as she watched Harry's eyes grow wide as he stared at the photo.

"You see? I told you he was fit. By the way, you can close your mouth now, Harry."

Harry snapped his jaw closed and felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He cleared his throat and said, "Yes, I suppose he is."

"Not to mention he has the biggest cock I've ever seen."

"Hermione!" cried Harry in shock.

"I am merely stating the truth," said Hermione with a grin.

"Mother Nature was kind to him, I guess," offered Harry as he perused Draco's form once again.

Hermione looked wistfully at the picture. "All I can say is that this is going to keep my fantasies going for quite some time. Why do you look so shocked, Harry? Do you think that I don't have fantasies? That I don't like to look this kind of thing?" she asked, holding out the magazine. "You do, don't you?"

"Yes, but I'm a bloke. It's different."

"Care to explain that?"

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. This was the last thing he ever figured he'd be discussing with Hermione, but he had said it and he knew she wouldn't let it go until he answered. "It's just that, well, erm...men have, you know, needs."

"Needs?" asked Hermione. She knew full well what Harry meant but asked him anyway.

With a wave in the general vicinity of his crotch and a waggle of his eyebrows, Harry said, "Yes, needs."

"Wanking, in other words," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Yes! Yes! Can we please change the subject?" begged a scarlet-faced Harry, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Hermione, being Hermione, forged ahead. "Women do it, too. I do it."

Harry was scandalized and more embarrassed than he had ever been I his life. "Does Ron know you do that with this?" he asked, picking up magazine.

"Of course he does!"

"And he doesn't mind?"

"Why would he mind? He has his, I have mine and we're both happy, Harry. As long as it remains in the imaginary, no one gets hurt." Hermione thought for a bit and then asked, "If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Ron?"

"I promise," said Harry quickly, quite anxious to hear what Hermione had to say.

"If I had the chance and if I weren't married, of course, I'd do Malfoy without even thinking twice about it," said Hermione.

Unable to hide his smirk, Harry asked, "Why Hermione Weasley! You little vixen you! The thought of his endowment turns you on that much?"

Hermione blushed for the first time that afternoon. "That's part of it, but I'm intrigued as well. I read the story that goes along with the pictures and it seems that Malfoy is a completely changed man. He's nothing at all like the boy we knew in school. I'd love to get a chance to find out if it's all true. Here, Harry. You should read it, too."

Harry pushed the magazine away. "Thanks, but no. I've heard and seen all I want of Draco Malfoy today. Can we please change the subject now?"

Hermione shook her head, stuffed the offending volume back into her bag and began to tell Harry about Fred and George's latest invention. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that his cheeks had returned to their normal colour.

Harry tried hard to forget about Malfoy, but it seemed no matter where he turned, Draco's face was staring up at him. His quiet afternoon tea in his favourite little café in Diagon Alley was disrupted by two witches giggling over the centrefold. He was quite dismayed to find a large display in Flourish and Blotts, the bookseller having just added a magazine section to their establishment. The idea crossed Harry's mind to complain that the magazine was not suitable reading material, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. There was an elderly witch in the park, sitting on a bench and happily reading away, oblivious to Harry's glare.

"There are children here," thought Harry as he walked away with an air of righteous indignation.

Harry had grown curious to see exactly why all the women seemed to be so fascinated with Draco Malfoy, apart from his obvious charms, of course, although he had a hard time admitting it to himself. For days he steadfastly refused to satisfy his curiosity, avoiding the witch's monthly with steely determination, walking by each display with his nose held high in the air. On the fourth day, his resolve suddenly faded away, leaving him with no alternative - he had to know. Eschewing the more popular establishments, Harry chose to make his clandestine purchase in a lesser known, much smaller shop located at the furthest end of Diagon Alley. He had seen the small newsagent's shop many times but had never set foot in it. He entered the tiny store and cringed as the bell signalled his arrival.

"So much for going unnoticed," thought Harry as he made his way to the racks.

"Afternoon, gov," offered the wizened old witch behind the counter.

Harry nodded, not making eye contact, and continued toward his goal. He quickly found Wicked, but did not pick it up, taking the latest issues of Quidditch Quarterly, Wizard Workouts and The Quibbler instead. He then slipped Wicked in between the other magazines and made his way to pay.

"Find everything you were looking for then did you, gov?" asked the witch.

"Erm, yes...thanks," muttered Harry.

The old woman slowly checked the prices and rang them up, carefully inspecting each volume as she went. When she came to Wicked, her eyes lifted to peer at Harry over the top of her glasses. Harry was quick to say that he was buying it for his girlfriend, the words stumbling awkwardly from his mouth. With a half-smile, the witch nodded and continued on, accepting payment from Harry and then stuffing his purchases in a paper sack. She then shrunk the bag down and handed it to Harry, who promptly shoved it in the pocket of his robes. He said a quick thank you and left the shop, the little bell ringing loudly in his wake. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and set off to finish the rest of his errands.

Back in his flat, Harry stowed away his purchases and then set about preparing himself a cup of tea. As he waited for the water to boil, he pondered why it had been so difficult for him to purchase Wicked. It was not the first time he had bought reading material of a sexual nature, his rather large collections of gay porn was a testament to that fact. He could not decide whether his embarrassment was because the magazine was for women or if it was due to the fact that Malfoy was the star, so he shrugged the whole thing off. The deed was done and that was all that mattered.

Harry sat at his kitchen table and pulled the sack out of his pocket and restored it to its proper size. He extracted Wicked from the bag and tossed the rest aside. Malfoy stared up at him from the glossy front-page, smiled, winked cheekily, and then did it all over again. Wicked - For the Naughty Witch in You - Harry couldn't help but smirk at the catchphrase. He quickly flipped through the pages and was amazed at what he found. The majority of the magazine consisted of articles, not photos, and of the few pictures there were, not one of the wizards had a hard-on! It was definitely not what he was used to. Wizards were by far and away naughtier than the average witch, if Wicked was any indication. It was all so tame and rather boring. Even the articles were unworthy of his attention - advice to the lovelorn, sex tips on how to please your wizard (most of them rubbish, according to Harry), hints on achieving orgasm. Hermione's recent confession was already more than he wanted to know about female sexuality so he skipped those pages with haste. He found Malfoy's section and began with the centrefold. He really did have a nice body and Hermione had been correct about the size of his cock. It was one of the largest he had ever seen and that was saying a lot. Harry had seen more than his fair share. After inspecting the photo quite closely, Harry folded the pages and turned to the rest. There were several, showing Draco in various poses and in differing states of undress. Two photos in particular caught Harry's eye. The first one was of Draco in the shower. He had his back to the camera, showing off his broad shoulders and his lovely round arse. Harry watched as photo-Draco rinsed his hair, turning slightly to show the profile of his face, and then moved forward to let the water flow down his back. Strong muscles rippled under glistening, smooth skin, all highlighted by the well-chosen camera angle. It was an enticing picture, one that clearly said to the viewer 'wash my back' and it would no doubt generate many a fantasy.

The second image that drew Harry's attention was one of a completely clothed Draco. He was wearing a simple white shirt, Muggle jeans and was sitting barefoot in the grass under a large tree. He had one leg bent up with his arm resting on his knee, a wildflower twisting in his long fingers. He cocked his head towards the photographer, shyly gazed downward for a brief instant and then, looking back up, broke into a wide smile. Harry had never seen Malfoy smile like that - it was genuine, heartfelt and joyous. It was breathtaking and Harry found himself unable to look away for the longest time. A sip of stone-cold tea brought him out of his reverie. He reheated it with a wave of his wand, drank half of it down and then began to read Malfoy's story.

Harry was incredulous at Draco's frank and open discussion of the misdeeds of his youth. He did not go as far to include details of that night in the Astronomy Tower, but he did speak of his coerced involvement with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He lavished praise upon Snape for saving him from certain death by hiding him away until the Dark Lord had at long last been destroyed. Once freed, he was cleared of all charges and walked away unscathed. After his release from self-imposed exile, Draco travelled extensively, learning much about the world, life and himself. He studied at a wizarding university abroad, eventually returning to London after a six-year absence to take up a teaching position. Draco Malfoy, the once self-serving, snobbish, snarky git of Harry's youth was now a wizarding primary school teacher!

Harry could see why Hermione had been so fascinated with Draco's story. It seemed too good to be true. Harry shook his head in disbelief. There was no way in hell that this story of Malfoy's amazing reformation could be accurate. It had to be exaggerated, no doubt to titillate the over-active imaginations of the readers. Merlin knew that Hermione fell for it hook, line and sinker. No, while there was undoubtedly some grain of truth to be found in the tale, Draco Malfoy had been whitewashed to heighten his appeal to all the sex-starved witches who purchased Wicked. It was a ploy to increase sales; there could be no other explanation. It was a stroke of genius, Harry had to admit. Malfoy was a former bad-boy turned good, with the mystique of Death Eater thrown in for good measure. It was a sure-fire hit. Of course, Draco's good looks didn't hurt either. No, they didn't hurt at all.

Harry arose and tossed the magazine in the waste paper basket beside his desk. He wasn't fooled by any of it. He would love to kid Hermione about being so gullible, but then again, he couldn't admit to her that he had read the article after all. Too bad, it would have made for some lovely teasing.

Sleep was elusive to Harry that night. He was snuggled into his big bed, all comfortable and cosy and yet he couldn't drift off. Harry didn't know why, but the image of Draco under the tree kept popping into his head. Every time he pushed it out, in it would come again. Muttering a curse under his breath, Harry flipped over onto his left side and squeezed his eyes tightly shut in an attempt to keep Malfoy at bay. He was at last successful and fell into slumber. His mind clouded and murky by sleep, he had no choice but to let his final conscious thought of the night float gently by -Draco is smiling at me.

The following afternoon, Harry sat at his desk wading through the day's post. Even after so many years, Harry still received many requests for personal appearances. He was very selective in those that he chose, eschewing the great majority of the demands. He carefully wrote out his short, to the point rejection letters, thanking them for their interest, but unfortunately he was unable to attend whatever function had been offered. He summoned Hedwig, fed her an Owl Treat, and with a quick scratch of her neck, sent her off with the first of the day's replies tied to her leg. Fancying a cup of tea, Harry stood to fetch it and noticed an envelope on the floor.

"Must have dropped you," he said with a laugh. "Oh well, one more 'no' letter to write."

Harry quickly read the letter and found himself writing a response, albeit not the one he had thought. This request had come from an orphanage, inviting his presence in a week's time to meet with the children in their in-house primary school. When Hedwig returned, Harry sent her back out immediately with his reply - he would be honoured to meet with the children. He never said no to the young ones.

He gathered up all the bits of scrap paper and leaned over to toss them in the bin. As he was doing so, Wicked caught his eye. He stared at it for a moment and then grabbed it up. He somewhat guiltily flipped to Draco's photo spread and sat staring at the one that had kept him awake. He was mesmerised by the demure mien and that blinding smile; tantalized by Draco Malfoy!

Harry shook himself out of his daze with the thought, "You've really lost it now, Potter - lusting after Malfoy. Snap out of it!" He moved to toss the magazine back into the bin where it belonged, but somehow his hand took a detour and slipped it into the desk drawer instead. Mildly disgusted with himself, he Apparated to Diagon Alley for a little change of scenery.

As it turned out, Diagon Alley was the wrong choice to forget about his little fantasy. He found the café jam-packed and noisy. Something was going on, and peering over the crowd, he attempted to see what it was. Malfoy! Sure enough, the former Slytherin was surrounded by a crowd of cackling witches, each and every one with a piece of parchment and a quill in her hand, trying desperately to secure an autograph from Mr September! Harry moved to the side and, leaning up against the wall, watched as Draco charmed his adoring fans. He signed autographs, posed for pictures, laughed, joked, and doled out kisses by the dozen. Harry hadn't heard so much giggling since Hogwarts and the fact that a lot of it was coming from middle-aged witches was rather disconcerting. Malfoy had turned them all into silly schoolgirls! He was obviously quite the lady's man and very skilled at it, too. Harry denied the little pang of jealousy that swept through him. Deciding that it would be best if he left, Harry moved toward the door. As luck would have it, he turned back to look one last time just as Draco gazed up. Shock registered in Draco's eyes. Harry quickly slipped out the door.

"Potter!" called Draco. "Wait!"

Harry stopped and slowly turned. He said with a smirk, "Well, well, Draco Malfoy! Fancy seeing you! But then again, everyone's been seeing a lot of you lately."

Draco broke into a grin. "I can't deny that. Did you come for my autograph, too?"

From the tone in his voice, Harry knew that Draco was joking so he kept his own light. "Don't flatter yourself. I came upon you by accident. I must say, you certainly had them all eating out of your hand in there."

"Comes with the territory. One of the perks of being Mr September," replied Draco rolling his eyes. "Did you see it?"

Harry hated the blush that crept up his cheeks. He had to admit that he had seen it; he couldn't ask his question otherwise. He didn't have to own up to buying the magazine, however. "Yes, Hermione showed it to me."

"Ah, good. Listen, I really should go back inside. I agreed to be there for an hour. It was nice running into you...Harry," said Draco. "Thanks, by the way."

Harry noticed the hesitation in Draco's voice. He was undoubtedly unsure if he should say Potter or Harry. "Thanks for what?"

Draco had started to walk away. Glancing back over his shoulder, he replied, "For freeing me. If it weren't for you, I'd still be in hiding. I have you to thank for my life." When Draco reached the door of the café, he waved, flashed Harry one of those smiles and disappeared inside.

Harry was gobsmacked! Draco Malfoy had just thanked him for killing Voldemort, thanked him for his life. A Malfoy showing gratitude? Harry never thought he would live to see the day. The thought of it quite pleased Harry. What pleased him even more was the smile - the one that had made his stomach flip and turned his knees to jelly. He forgot all about why he had gone to Diagon Alley in the first place, Apparated home and sat with Wicked on his lap for the rest of the afternoon. He even forgot that he had neglected to ask Draco if his published story was true or not.

One week later, Harry kept his promise to meet with the children of the orphanage. He was greeted by the wizard in charge, a jovial man by the name of Marwynn Wackrill, who took him on a guided tour. It was plain to see that the children all adored their 'Uncle Wacky' as he was called. He even insisted that Harry address him as such. Everywhere they went, the children greeted them with enthusiastic hugs and broad smiles. When Uncle Wacky introduced Harry, the smiles turned shy in the presence of the wizarding world's young hero.

The orphanage had its own school to teach the children the basic skills that they would need to carry them through their lives - reading, writing, mathematics, in short, all the same classes that Muggle children had. Magic lessons would of course come later at Hogwarts. Harry met with the older children first and cheerfully fielded all the questions they had about how he had finally taken care of Voldemort. When a girl by the name of Lyndella asked him what it felt like to be a hero, Harry answered, "Well, I wouldn't know. I'm not a hero. I'm me - Harry, that's all. I had a job to do and I did it. I don't think that qualifies me as a hero at all." Harry blushed when the students disagreed with his statement.

"Now then, Harry," said Uncle Wacky, "these are our youngest students and they are most anxious to meet you. Their teacher has told them so much about you." He peered through the window. "I see that Mr Malfoy is just finishing up a lesson. We'll just wait until he's done, if you don't mind."

"Um, no, no not at all. Let...Mr Malfoy finish," said a stunned Harry. He looked into the class to see Draco teaching some very young boys and girls the letters of the alphabet. As he watched, it was apparent that the children were enamoured with their teacher and that the feeling was entirely mutual.

"Merlin, that article was true; he is a teacher!" thought Harry with amazement. "Draco teaches little children." Harry was gobsmacked anew.

When the lesson was finally over, Draco beckoned them to enter. "Class," he said.

The children stood up and said with excitement, "Good morning, Uncle Wacky. Good morning, Mr Potter."

"Good morning, children. I see that your teacher has told you I was coming," said Harry grinning at Draco. "Please, call me Harry."

This set the children off and they all began talking animatedly, each one trying to catch Harry's attention. "Everyone please settle down now. One at a time. You'll all get a chance to meet Harry," said Draco in an attempt to calm his students. As if he had waved his wand over them, they hushed and awaited their turn. Harry was duly impressed. Uncle Wacky excused himself, saying that he had business to attend to. He shook Harry's hand so enthusiastically, Harry was sure he felt his teeth rattle.

One by one, Draco introduced his class to Harry, who took the time to chat with each and every child. Harry charmed them all, except for one little girl who was sitting away from her classmates across the room. Harry nodded in her direction and Draco arose.

Kneeling down beside her, Draco asked quietly, "What's wrong, Susan?" When no answer came, he whispered, "Are you afraid, petal?"

"Yes," said Susan so softly that Harry almost missed it.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.

"No, sir, you're my teacher," answered Susan.

"Well now, Harry is my friend, so he's your friend, too. He's very nice and he wants to meet you very much. Won't you come with me?" Draco stood and held out his hand. "Please, petal?" The little girl gingerly slipped her hand in Draco's and allowed herself to be brought to Harry.

Harry shook her hand and said, "I'm so happy to meet you, Susan. Do you know you have the prettiest blue eyes I have ever seen?" When their chat was over, Susan walked away beaming.

The class stood, thanked Harry for coming to visit them and then left as Draco dismissed them for lunch. Harry received a hug from each child as they went by.

"Seeing that Uncle Wacky has seen fit to leave you high and dry, let me walk you out," said Draco.

"He's quite the character isn't he?" asked Harry.

Draco laughed. "The kids adore him and that's what counts."

"So, I'm your friend, am I?"

"Well, I could hardly tell her that we were enemies now could I? She trusts me so I knew that if she thought we were friends, she would trust you, too. It worked," answered Draco. After a beat, he added, "I wouldn't mind, though."

"What?" asked Harry.

"If we were friends. I'd like a chance to start over."

Harry stopped in his tracks and studied the blond. "I think I'd like that as well."

"In that case, Draco Malfoy," said Draco as he held out his hand.

Harry took the hand and shook it. "Harry Potter."

"Would Harry Potter care to join me for supper some evening?"

"Yes, I think he would," replied Harry with a grin. "How about tomorrow night?"

"I can't. Friday would be better."

"Friday it is then. When and where?" asked Harry. Draco suggested a restaurant; Harry knew it well. With the agreement to meet at 8:00, Harry bid Draco goodbye and Disapparated home.

The week was interminably long for Harry, it seemed to drag on forever. He was looking forward to sharing a meal with Draco more than he was willing to admit to himself. At long last Friday finally came and Harry found Draco already seated in the restaurant. He had ordered a bottle of red wine and had a glass poured and waiting for Harry.

"I hope red is okay with you, Harry."

"It's fine. This is a nice place. I've never been here before even though I have seen it so many times."

"It's my favourite. I love Italian food," replied Draco.

Harry took a sip of wine and then looked at the menu. He found himself at a loss for words. The waiter came and took their orders, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence.

Harry broke the ice. "I read your article in Wicked. I was sure that it had been exaggerated, so I was quite surprised to find out that you really are a teacher. After watching you in class the other day, I have to admit that it seems to suit you perfectly. I would never have thought that you would have chosen that as your career."

Draco laughed and replied, "Neither would I, Harry. I love it so much, I can't even begin to tell you. The one thing I can tell you is that I love those kids."

"I could see that, Draco, and it was also quite clear to me that they feel the same about you."

Draco grinned shyly. "I guess they do. Poor kids, they need someone to love them. I wish that they could all find good homes."

"I do, too," agreed Harry sadly. "I was shocked to see that there are so many children at the orphanage. So many more than I imagined."

"By-product of the war in most cases, I'm afraid. It's a horrible thing to lose your parents so young." Draco suddenly realised what he had said. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. Please forgive me. You, more than anyone, know what that feels like."

Harry said with a wave of his hand, "It's okay. It was a long time ago. I learned to cope with it."

A look of relief washed over Draco. "It isn't easy to lose them at any age."

"I'm, erm, sorry for what happened to your parents," offered Harry awkwardly.

Draco nodded and replied, "I daresay they deserved what they got. It doesn't change the fact that I miss them terribly, especially my mother. She and I...were very close."

Harry watched as the pair of beautiful grey eyes misted over. He quickly changed the subject. "What about the rest of the article, Draco? Is it fact or fiction?"

"I swear that every word is the truth. Why would you think it might not be?" inquired Draco.

"Um, well, it's just that...you're so different from the way you used to be. I find it hard to believe that you could have changed so much," answered Harry truthfully.

"Ah, I see," replied Draco. "Thank you for your honesty. I suppose if I were in your position, I might feel the same. All I can tell you is that after everything I went through, I realised that I wanted to be as different from my parents as I could possibly be. I wanted to be happy and make a positive contribution to society, not try to destroy it as they did. I set myself some goals, which I am very happy to say, I achieved."

"So you're happy?" asked Harry.

"Pretty much, yes I am. I mean, my life isn't perfect but then again, whose is?"

Harry chuckled. "Merlin knows mine isn't. The article said that you travelled for a few years..."

"Yes, after I was acquitted of any crimes, I packed up my belongings and took off to see the world. I saw just about everything there is to see, visited places big and small, Muggle as well as wizarding. When I was studying to be a teacher in America, I lived as a Muggle. Hell, I even dated a couple of them!"

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "You? You lived as Muggle? Draco Malfoy? I think I misunderstood you."

Draco couldn't help but laugh. "No, you didn't, Harry. Hard to believe, isn't it? But I did. I learned a lot, too. I'm not a prejudiced git anymore."

"Wonders will never cease. I think this calls for a toast," said Harry raising his glass.

Draco held up his glass. "Whatever are we drinking to?"

"To you."

"To me?" asked Draco in surprise, the faint beginnings of a blush colouring his pale skin.

"Yes, to you. Here's to the new Draco Malfoy! I am very proud to call him my friend." Harry held out his glass, waiting for Draco to clink it with his own.

"I...I don't know what to say," stammered Draco with embarrassment.

Noting Draco's red cheeks, Harry said, "You don't have to say anything. Take the compliment." When he had finished speaking, he touched his glass to Draco's.

"Thank you, Harry. That means a lot to me. The feeling is mutual, by the way," said Draco honestly. Just then, the waiter arrived with their plates.

"This is delicious!" exclaimed Harry as he took a bite of his pasta. "I can see why this is your favourite restaurant."

"I'm so pleased you like it. I took a chance that you would."

As Harry tucked in, he said, "I have one more thing to ask you."

Draco finished his sip of wine. "Sure. What is it?"

"Why did you pose for Wicked?"

"As much as I adore my job, the salary leaves a little to be desired. I did it for the money. And before you ask, there was nothing left of my family fortune. Even the manor had been sold."

"I see. Uncle Wacky didn't mind you posing starkers?" asked Harry.

"I thought you said you had one more question. Don't look sorry, I was only teasing you. I obtained his permission before I did it. There was no way I was going to jeopardise my job for the sake of a few Galleons. I fully expected him to say no, I do work with children after all. He said he had no problem with it since it wasn't pornography as far as he was concerned. I was only showing what Mother Nature had given me and that there was nothing to be ashamed of. He didn't want the children to see it, however."

"No, of course not. I think I like Uncle Wacky. Very sensible bloke," said Harry. His mind drifted off to Mother Nature's gift to Draco.

"Where did you just disappear to? You seemed a million miles away," asked Draco.

Harry blushed and answered, "Nowhere in particular."

The evening progressed wonderfully. They ate and talked for many hours. Draco regaled Harry with tales from his travels and Harry filled Draco in on what he had been doing with his life for the past six years. They were so wrapped up in themselves that they didn't notice they were the only ones left in the restaurant. They saw that the waiter seemed to be hovering around them, but they paid no heed. The poor man finally came to the table and pointed out that the staff was waiting for them to leave so that they could close up. Harry and Draco quickly settled the bill, leaving a very generous tip to make up for their late stay. They walked out into Diagon Alley, laughing and joking as they went. It was a gorgeous night - the moon shone brightly down, illuminating the now deserted street. Harry glanced at Draco and his breath hitched. Malfoy in the moonlight was a thing of beauty, his hair shimmering and his eyes gleaming as they reflected the celestial glow. Harry quickly regained his composure and carried on as if nothing had happened. They strolled for some time, and as they chatted, they both came to the conclusion that they had enjoyed the evening too much for it to be a one-off. They parted company with the idea that they would 'do this again really soon'.

And they did. They saw each other for many meals -breakfast, lunch, supper, coffee, tea - it didn't matter which. They took walks, they attended a Quidditch match, they ventured into Muggle London for numerous visits to the cinema and theatre. There were shopping excursions for clothing, books, and music as well. Any time one suggested an outing, the other readily agreed. Each time they saw one another, the bond between the two men grew stronger.

Something else was growing for Harry. At first he denied it, ignoring it as folly. He then found excuses, a myriad of reasons, a list as long as his arm why it wasn't so. Any little justification would do, no matter how absurd. Harry used them all. And then, one glorious morning in the last week of September, the truth hit him squarely between the eyes.

Harry awoke that fine day, stretched and rolled over on his side, clutching his pillow tightly in his arms. He lay there for the longest while, thinking about nothing in particular when his thoughts turned to Draco, an occurrence that had been happening more and more frequently as the month rolled by. Harry grinned as he replayed their last encounter...and the one before that...and the one before that and on and on. His head was filled with thoughts of his new friend, leaving room for precious little else. He remembered how Draco looked each time they met, what he wore, what he said, how he smelled. Harry closed his eyes and imagined kissing those full lips and tasting Draco's sweetness for the first time. It would be divine; Harry just knew it could be no other way.

Suddenly, Harry sat up in bed. He gasped and clapped his hand over his mouth in horror. "Oh my gods! No, it can't be! It just can't BE!" he exclaimed aloud.

But alas, it was. All of his little excuses no longer did the trick. As hard as he tried, it would not go away, it would not be erased, it, so it seemed, was there to stay. Harry moped around his flat for the better part of the day, wondering how in the hell this could have happened to him. He berated himself for not seeing it coming, for being careless, and for being the world's biggest git.

At last, he could stand it no more. He needed to talk to someone about his little problem. Hermione! She would know what to do!

Harry arose, went to the fireplace, threw in a handful of Floo powder and called out in a loud voice, "Hermione Weasley! Are you there, Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Thank Merlin you're home! Something's happened and I need to talk to you urgently."

"Are you okay?" asked Hermione with worry.

"Yes, I mean no, hell, I don't know anymore. Can I please come through?" asked Harry.

"Yes, of course," answered Hermione. Before she knew it, Harry was standing in her living room, brushing soot from his clothes. "Are you ill, Harry?"

"No, it's nothing like that. I seem to have gotten myself into a...a situation and I don't know what to do about it. I need your advice, Hermione, desperately!"

"Well then, you sit down and I'll get us some tea. I'll be right back." Hermione quickly returned and shoved a mug of steaming tea into Harry's hand. She sat opposite him and asked, "Okay, what's this all about?"

Taking a sip of tea, Harry sighed and began to speak. "It all began with that stupid magazine."

Hermione looked puzzled for a second and then caught onto what Harry was talking about. "Wicked."

"Yeah, that's the one. You got me curious and I finally broke down," said Harry, his voice growing quieter with each word, "and bought it. Would please be so kind as to wipe that smirk off your face?"

"Sorry, Harry, please go on," said Hermione contritely.

"Anyway, I read the article about Draco, which I didn't believe, by the way. The following afternoon, I happened to run into him in Diagon Alley. He was signing autographs as Mr September."

"Oh my, that was quite the coincidence, wasn't it?"

"Yes it was, but there's an even bigger one. I agreed to go meet the children at the orphanage - guess who's their teacher?"

"Not Draco? It did say that he was a teacher! So much for your theory about the story being untrue," exclaimed Hermione.

"Yup, it turns out that it's all true, every last word of it. We talked and decided to go out for a meal. We had a great time. He's very interesting and fun to be with," admitted Harry. "Since then, we've become great friends and have been seeing a lot of one another."

"That's wonderful, Harry! I'm glad for both of you. You can never have too many friends, I always say. But there's more to it than that, I take it?"

Harry nodded. "Although I wouldn't admit it to myself, I was attracted to him right from the start. I didn't think much of it. I thought it would pass with time."

"And it hasn't passed, has it, Harry?" asked Hermione gently.

"No," whispered Harry, his eyes downcast. "I've...I've fallen in love with Draco Malfoy. What am I going to do, Hermione? He's straight, for Merlin's' sake! I've made a right mess of the whole thing."

"That is a dilemma, Harry. Are you sure he's not gay too?"

"Look, that wasn't exactly Wizards in Chains that he posed for. It's for witches, not gay wizards. He hasn't given me any indication that he wants anything more than friendship from me. And I mean he has to know that I'm gay, right? It's common knowledge."

"True. Do you have any idea at all what you are going to do next?"

"I have it boiled down to two options. The first one is that I don't tell him and going on being his friend, spending time with him and being miserable. I won't have him in my life the way I'd like, but at least he'll still be around."

"And the second one?" inquired Hermione.

"I tell him the truth, he tells me that I'm sick or crazy and then walks out on me forever. I end up Dracoless and completely miserable. Nice choices, huh? Which would you pick? A little misery or a lot?"

"I'd pick the truth, Harry. You can't go on living a lie. You have to tell Draco that you are in love with him," said Hermione.

"Why did I know that's what you were going to tell me?" said Harry with a sad smile.

"Because you know it's the right thing to do. Besides, it is possible that he'll want to remain friends with you," offered Hermione, hoping to cheer Harry up.

"I doubt it. I don't think that there are too many straight men that would still pal around with a gay man who's in love with him. It offends their macho sensibilities and scares the shit out of them. You know, homophobia."

"Oh," said Hermione dejectedly. "So, are you going to tell him?"

"Yes, on one condition," said Harry. Hermione looked at him, waiting for the rest. "That you'll be there to pick me up when I fall to pieces."

Hermione flew to Harry and gathered him into a hug. "Always, Harry. You know I'm always here for you, no matter what."

Harry saw Draco two more times and was unable to confess his true feelings. He had really tried each time, but the words just stuck on his tongue and refused steadfastly to come out. They had agreed to meet for lunch on the last day of the month in order to celebrate the end of Draco's reign as Mr September. Harry vowed to himself that he would tell him after lunch. He wanted one last meal with his love before the blond turned and walked out of his life for good.

As they sat in the little Italian place, the scene of their first 'date', Harry studied Draco carefully. He wanted to memorise every inch of him - the exact colour of his pewter eyes, the shine of his hair and the way it moved when he tossed his head, the tilt of his nose, the way his hands moved when he spoke, how he gnawed on a thumbnail when he was nervous or pensive, every detail so that he could carry it with him always. He hung on every word, etching the lilt of Draco's voice in his mind. He inhaled deeply to take in the delicious scent that was Draco's alone. He had come to know it so well, he could discern it even over the many plates of food. A lump formed in Harry's throat - how was he ever going to do without Draco? How could he never again see the smile that was his undoing? Harry almost gave in to his temptation to keep silent, but he could hear Hermione's voice urging him to do the right and proper thing. Deep down inside, he knew she was correct, as usual.

As they walked out into the waning afternoon sunlight, a wave of sadness swept over Harry. He barely noticed the crowds as they bustled by or even that Draco had spoken to him.

"Sorry, Draco, what were you saying?" asked Harry. He looked at Draco and saw that his demeanour had changed. He now seemed apprehensive. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, at least not yet, Harry. Look, I have something to tell you and I'm not sure how you're going to take it," said Draco worriedly.

"That makes two of us," thought Harry. "Best get it over with."

As they slowly walked along, Draco began to speak. "The article about me in Wicked was all true, I've already told you that. The thing of it is, they omitted...certain details about me and my life. Information that they thought might hurt the sales of that particular issue."

The first thing that popped into Harry's head was that it must be something to do with Draco's Death Eater past - either his or his parents'. Merlin knew there must be many a skeleton hidden in the Malfoy closets! Draco would not want all the sordid details broadcast to all and sundry. Harry wouldn't, in Draco's shoes. Harry's curiosity had definitely been piqued. When he noticed that Draco had stopped talking, he said, "Go on, tell me what it is."

Draco sighed. "Please remember that I didn't keep this information from you on purpose. It was part of my contract. I had no choice."

"Yes, yes, I understand," said Harry quickly.

"I hope that you will be able to accept what I am going to tell you and that we can still remain friends, Harry."

"Must have been some really bad shit if he's this worried about telling me," thought Harry. He just looked at Draco expectantly.

"Okay, here it is...Harry...I'm gay," said Draco. Harry stopped in his tracks. "And that's not all...I've fallen, very hard, too. I'm...I'm in love with you."

Harry burst out laughing! Not just a chuckle or a slight guffaw, but a body-shaking, howling, tears-rolling-down-the-cheeks, non-stop belly laugh. He was laughing so hard that people began staring at the madman in their midst.

Draco stared in shock and amazement. When Harry showed no sign of stopping, Draco's mood turned. "I expected you to hex me or punch my lights out, but I never thought that you would react like this!" he said angrily. "I'm sorry that you find my feelings so fucking funny! Go on, have a good laugh at my expense! That's it, ridicule the faggot! You know what? You can go fuck yourself!" With his last words, Draco turned away in a huff.

Harry quickly snapped out of his fit. "Wait! Draco, I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at you. I really wasn't!" called Harry.

"I tell you I love you and you go into hysterics. What else am I supposed to think, Harry?"

Harry grabbed Draco by the upper arms. "Didn't you know that I'm gay, too?"

"What? How would I know that? You sure as hell didn't tell me," snapped Draco.

"Draco, everybody knows that I am. I was outed by The Quibbler five years ago."

"I was on the other side of the world five years ago. I told you that, if you recall," said Draco snarkily.

Harry slapped his forehead and exclaimed, "Oh shit! That's right. I forgot you weren't around back then! And here I've been, assuming all long that you knew."

"You still haven't explained why you were laughing," said Draco coldly.

"It's the irony of the whole situation. It's too delicious."

"Irony?"

"Yes, it is so very ironic, Draco, that while you were struggling to make your little confession, I was struggling to make the exact same one to you."

Draco stood as if he had been hit by a Body Binding Curse, blinking like an owl. "Huh?" was all he could say.

Harry ran his fingers along Draco's cheek and said gently, "Draco, I am gay and I have fallen in love with you, too."

"I...but...you..." sputtered Draco.

Before Harry realised what hit him, Draco had launched himself forward, thrown his arms around him and had locked their lips together. The kiss started out rough and frantic, but it soon became sensuous, deep, and searing hot. Time stood still as Harry melted into Draco's embrace. Nothing else mattered, no one else existed, for Harry had been granted his heart's desire, his fondest wish. Draco was his!

Reluctantly, they parted, leaving Harry whimpering at the loss of the sweetness of Draco's mouth.

Draco grinned and said, "Delicious irony, indeed. However, I do think we have made rather a spectacle of ourselves."

Harry suddenly became aware that they had drawn an audience, not all of whom were appreciative of the public display of affection. "They can all sod off," said Harry quickly. "But what about your contract? Won't you get into trouble for outing yourself in the middle of Diagon Alley?"

Draco gave Harry a quick peck. "Well, it is the last day of the month. I think Mr September can retire, don't you?"

"What about all your legions of fans? They're all going to be heartbroken," said Harry playfully.

"Yours is the only heart I care about, Harry." Just before their lips met anew, Draco whispered, "Mr October can have the rest."

Fin.