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The Importance of Delaying Matricide

Draco lifted the Styrofoam cup to his lips to smother his yawn. It was at least the fourteenth yawn he'd been forced to smother since he'd arrived, and he was beginning to think he'd drown in his coffee at that rate. He sighed and looked across the room to where his mother was politely chatting with a man who was a hundred years old if he was a day. The Single Senior Sorcerers mixer was like a wake without the blessed relief of death, but he had to put up with it. He simply had to fix his mother up with a nice, acceptable man or he was going to kill her. It was as simple as that.

He was twenty-three years old, for pity's sake, and if he didn't get his mother out of his hair, he'd never get laid again. However, unless he wanted to set her up as a nursemaid to someone who could barely spoon-feed himself, he needed to get her away from that corpse and towards one of the few men in the room who still had some juices flowing.

As he began to cross the room towards his mother, he noticed that she was chatting with his Aunt Andromeda, whom she'd welcomed back into the family fold after The Late Unpleasantness. She came around for tea a few times a week now, and while Draco thought she was perfectly pleasant, here she represented competition. She was less refined than his mother, perhaps a bit more rounded and soft-looking, but he'd heard men liked that sort of thing in a woman. Not that Draco would know.

He pushed his way through the crowd and noticed that the man his aunt and mother were chatting up was even more hideous up close. He resembled bleached jerky and Draco recoiled. "Draco, darling," his mother said in a tone that indicated he was not hiding his revulsion to the Inferius with whom she was making small-talk, "this is Mr Smedley Smythwyck."

"Charmed," Draco said, pulling his hand back as fast as he could manage without getting an elbow to the ribs from his mother. "Aunt Andromeda, you're looking well." He gave her a couple of air-kisses, and as he glanced over her shoulder, he saw a person in the doorway who prompted him to mutter, "Fucking wanker," directly into his aunt's ear.

"Draco Malfoy!" she exclaimed, pushing him away. "How dare you!"

"Not you," he said, but before he could explain, Harry Potter had reached their little group. "Potter. You're this hard up? One wouldn't have expected it from a war hero. Or do the more mature ladies float your boat?"

Potter smiled in an infuriating fashion at Narcissa and Andromeda and said, "Of course ladies this lovely could tempt me, however, I'm just here to escort Andie. I wouldn't want anyone taking advantage of her!" At that, he nudged Smythwyck and threw him a wink. Potter's nudge nearly floored the fossil and Draco smirked before he remembered that he hated Potter under any and all circumstances. "You still doing alright, Andie?" Harry asked Andromeda.

"Yes, thank you," she told him, still glaring at Draco. "Perhaps you could keep my nephew company while I speak with my sister, though."

Draco was insulted to see Potter's stupid, ingratiating smile falter. However, he recovered and grabbed Draco's arm and began pulling him, digging his fingertips into Draco's flesh much harder than was necessary. "Of course, Andie. It would be my pleasure."

The moment they were out of earshot, Draco yanked his arm from Potter's grasp. "What are you playing at, Potter? Since when are you and my aunt bosom buddies?"

Potter glared at him for a moment, but then his face softened. "I'm not playing any games. First of all, I live with your aunt, as I'm sure you know. I'm here for the same reason you are."

"You're trying to fix Aunt Andromeda up with a nice man so that she'll leave the house more than once a year and therefore you can finally bring a date 'round without her popping in and asking if you and your 'friend' want a snack just as you were getting your robes off?"

Several emotions flickered across Potter's face until, reluctantly, he smiled a bit. "Pretty much, yeah."

Draco was startled and began to laugh before realising that it would be a cold day in hell before he allow Potter to amuse him, and he managed to stifle his laughter into a sort-of strangled cough. "Let's get one thing straight, Potter. I hate you, yes? I always have and I likely always will. However, we might be able to help each other. Walk with me." It wasn't a request, and luckily Potter fell into step beside him without Draco having to resort to asking nicely. "First off, you live with Aunt Andromeda?"

Harry snorted and continued following him towards the exit of the large salon. "You two must be very close. I've lived there for almost three years, Malfoy. And Grimmauld Place is my house. I had a flat with Ron, but after we passed our exams and joined the Aurors full-time, Ron and Hermione got engaged. I moved out and she moved in. They got married a couple years back. You didn't hear?"

They turned into the corridor and headed towards the foyer. "Of course I heard about it, but as I wasn't invited to the event, I didn't bother sending a card," Draco said, sniffing a bit to make it clear how he felt about the snub. "So let me see if I have this sorted," he continued. "You'd been magnanimously allowing my aunt to live in her own ancestral home, which you took ownership of despite not being a descendent of the most noble and ancient house of Black, and when the Weasel kicked you out so that he could have raucous pre-marital relations with Granger, rather than getting down on one knee before the Weaselette, you decided to shack up with my widowed aunt. Potter, you randy son-of-a-gun! Nothing like enjoying your bachelor days in style, am I right?"

"First of all, Malfoy, you live with your mum, so put a sock in it. Secondly, Ginny and I haven't been together for quite some time. In fact, she's marrying Dean Thomas next week, and I'm very happy for the both of them."

Draco had always known Potter was deranged, but it was terribly unfair of the universe to provide him proof several years too late for him to make much use of it. "So the Weaselette leaves you for Thomas and not only are you not bitter, you're happy for them? Do you have even one dignified bone in your body?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but Ginny didn't leave me. I broke it off with her."

"You expect me to believe that? She was everything you could have wanted in a woman. Brash, potentially fecund, and utterly without personality – your perfect match!"

Potter stopped walking and glared at him. "Don't talk about her like that! She's a wonderful girl, but she wasn't right for me. I left on good terms, and I'm happy that she and Dean are working out so well."

Draco sighed. Perhaps he was mellowing with age, but needling Potter was decidedly less fun that it had been in previous years. It was also counter-productive to his ultimate goal. "Fine then, Potter. Amiable parting, no hard feelings, et cetera, et cetera. I won't concern myself with it further and shall move on to more important things. Like why aren't there any men in there who could still get it up without a rope and a pulley?"

"Oh my god, Malfoy, that mental image is going to haunt me for life. And speaking of terrible mental images, is… virility really on your list of things that you want in a boyfriend for your mum?"

"Why, Potter, you make me sound like a pimp!" Draco was scandalised. "Of course I don't want some old lecher making fast and loose with Mother, but she's never going to leave the house with one of those relics. They're the sort of men who'd come for tea and fall asleep on the divan five minutes in. Once Mother's safely covered her beau with an afghan, she'll have nothing better to do with her time than to torment me further. She needs someone who can show her a good time. Someone who will take her for drinks and dancing, not someone who'll show her pictures of his great-grandchildren and ask her to change his nappy."

Potter looked revolted, but then he nodded firmly. "You're right. Most of the men here are in bed before the sun sets. We need some different types of social events."

"Not ones intended for the recently deceased, yes," Draco agreed. "But Mother already knows everyone in her social circle. If there were a man who had caught her eye, she would have snapped him up by now. Father's been dead for almost five years. She's had the time."

"I was sorry to hear about your father," Potter said and Draco rolled his eyes.

"No you weren't. Don't lie. No one was sorry, except perhaps me and Mother. And even us, not so much. Anyway, I refuse to discuss The Late Unpleasantness with you. If anyone knows what happened, it's you. I'd just as soon skip it."

"Fine by me," Potter said. "But I'm thinking maybe we can help each other out. Andie and your mum spend time together, but they don't go out together. Maybe we could sort of… swap them."

"For what?"

"No, not exchange them, you twit. Have them trade places, so to speak. You can get your mum to take Andie to some of her fancy charity balls or society luncheons. Maybe there are some men your mum knows that aren't right for her, but that Andie would like?"

Draco grinned. "Potter, for once in your miserable life, you've had an actual good idea! Savour this moment. I suspect it's rare for you."

"Had some good ideas during the war," Potter muttered under his breath, but Draco pretended not to hear.

"Mother could escort Aunt Andromeda to some of her events and Aunt Andromeda could bring Mother along to… What is it that she does?"

Potter looked at him inscrutably and said, "I already have a perfect idea for the first event. Leave everything to me."

"Leave everything to me, he says," Draco grumbled. "Perfect idea, he says. Bloody moron. Should have known better."

"Draco, darling, stand up straight. You look like a vagrant."

"Thank you, Mother. Without you, I would have no self-esteem. I applaud your parenting skills. Besides, you're a hypocrite - I'll be damned if I believe you're any more comfortable in this den of Weasleys than I am. And just lovely, Potter is coming over here. Could this evening get any more special?"

"Draco, do try to be nice. He's invited us to this lovely gathering, and look at him. He looks simply smashing. I think I could spread him on toast and just nibble him up."

Before Draco could either vomit or strangle his mother, Potter approached with a large smirk on his face. "Draco, Mrs Malfoy. Lovely to see you both."

"Liar," Draco hissed through his teeth. Potter ignored him.

"Mrs Malfoy, Andie's just over there, and I think there's someone she'd like you to meet."

"Oh, how nice, Mr Potter. Thank you so much. Would you mind escorting me?"

"Not at all, Ma'am, and please, call me Harry." He took her arm and steered her away from Draco.

As they moved into the crowd, Draco heard his mother say, "And you must call me Narcissa, Harry dear. And might I add that you look positively edible tonight." Draco dropped his napkin on the ground and stomped on it, but it did little to alleviate his frustration.

When he looked up, Potter was wending his way back to Draco. "It was a lovely ceremony. Too bad you could only make it for the reception," Potter said when he drew near.

"We weren't invited to the ceremony, you lout, because you had to trick me into coming in the first place! You knew full-well that had I known it was a Weasley gathering to which you were hauling me, I'd never have come quietly. How did you manage to wrangle us an invitation, anyway? I wouldn't think the Weaselette would want anything to do with that plan."

Potter smiled. "Well, you were the easy part. But to invite your mum, I had to get Andie to ask Ginny if she could bring her sister, and Ginny said yes before she quite realised who Andie's sister is," he finished with a chuckle.

However, Draco was stuck on the first thing Potter had said. "How was I the easy one to invite?"

"Simple. My invitation read, 'Harry Potter and Guest.' So I brought a guest."

Draco clutched his heart, quite sure it was going to stop beating any second. "Potter, so help me, are you telling me that I'm here as your date?"

"If you want to put it that way, yes."

"You invited me as your date?" Draco looked up at the sky with alarm, quite sure that any minute it would begin raining fire. "But… The Weaselette knows that we hate each other! Besides, I'm not a woman!"

"I had noticed that fact. Although you're starting to scream like one. And I invited you because you said you wanted to be able to chaperone your mother because, and I quote, you didn't want to leave her alone in my irresponsible clutches. End quote. I told Ginny that I'd run into you and invited you to come. She was very nice about it."

"She didn't think that it was odd that you were inviting a male person? A male person that you hate?"

Potter smirked at him. "You do remember how I said that Ginny wasn't right for me? Turns out it was because she's not a male person, which is why she was so nice about the whole break-up. She knew it wasn't anyone's fault."

Still clutching his chest, Draco gaped. "So you're a homosexual and you decided to invite me on a date to your ex-girlfriend's wedding? You're more insane than I'd feared! And just what makes you think I would be amenable to being asked out on a date with a man, particularly you?"

"I have very good gaydar, Draco. And if I hadn't been sure before, I am now."

Draco had no clue what 'gaydar' was, but he certainly wasn't going to ask. "How are you sure?" he asked instead, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Because you still haven't mentioned that you don't like men. A straight man, that would have been the first thing out of his mouth."

Bollocks. "I still hate you, Potter. And this isn't healthy! We have work to do. We have a plan!"

"Yes, yes. You Slytherins and your plans. You take them very seriously, don't you? The plan is foremost in my mind, Draco, I promise you. Now, why don't you come have some punch? By the way, for what it's worth, you're the one who keeps claiming to hate me, not the other way around," Potter finished with a grin.

Draco had the very, very unsettling realisation that Harry Potter might possibly be flirting with him. Surely they weren't due for yet another apocalypse so soon, were they?

Luckily Draco avoided an unpleasant scene by making a crack about Molly Weasley's hindquarters, which caused Potter to leave him alone for the remainder of the wedding reception. It was unpardonably rude to treat one's date in such a fashion, but Draco could hardly expect Potter to understand such intricacies of socialisation. He'd been raised by Muggles, and clearly wolves would have been a step up.

Not so luckily, he was forced to interact with Potter again, sooner rather than later. His mother had invited Aunt Andromeda to her luncheon for the Society for the Preservation of Wizarding Landmarks, Assorted Statuary and Various Pureblood Traditions (but Not the Evil Ones), known to its members as SPoWLASaVPT(bNtEO).

As Draco stood in the doorway, his mother's official escort, greeting the simpering ladies of SPoWLASaVPT(bNtEO), he sighed and silently asked if the day could get any worse. And then he promptly kicked himself in his own metaphorical rear end because that was when Potter walked in the door, arm-in-arm with Andromeda.

"Good afternoon, Aunt Andromeda," he greeted her. "And disgusted by, yet socially obligated to acknowledge you, Potter," he finished with a cheery smile.

"Draco, you look quite smug and oily this afternoon," Potter said in a tone that implied it was a compliment.

"And you look like a bumbling, bespectacled genetic accident, so all is right with the world."

Potter merely rolled his eyes and moved into the salon with Aunt Andromeda. Draco's mother elbowed him in the ribs, even harder than usual. "Draco Malfoy, can't you be civil to that poor boy for once?"

"Merlin, Mother, are those elbows or is that where you hide your talons? Honestly. And no, I can't be civil to the git. He's a pompous, self-righteous twit with a God complex and hair that looks like an unkempt hedgehog."

"Well, he did save us all, Draco. And hedgehogs are rather darling. Have you ever seen one up close? Their little faces are just…" She trailed off, making a squidgy face at him and squeezing her fingers as if she were pinching invisible baby cheeks.

"Mother, for pity's sake! We have company! Cease your demented pantomime at once!" Draco made a mental note to acquire some kind of pet for his mother. Perhaps one of those wee dogs that women carried about in their handbags.

She sighed and looked like she wanted to argue, but then shook her head. "It would do you a world of good to make a new little friend. What ever happened to that nice boy, Myron, was it?"

"Milo," Draco corrected, "and what happened to Milo was after the tenth time that you insisted he sit in the parlor and look at photographs from your trip to Venice or have a cup of tea with you while you regaled him with the latest SPoWLASaVPT(bNtEO) gossip, he got a little bored of never getting what he'd come for, so he stopped coming at all."

"Well, that's just silly. What was he coming for if not good company and polite conversation?"

"He was coming for a good hard buggering in the arse, Mother, but he couldn't very well get that in the parlour while you hauled out the photo albums, could he?"

"Don't be crass, darling! We have company!"

Draco declined to point out that she was using his own argument against him, and gritting his teeth, he turned and escorted her into the salon, where his eye was immediately drawn to Potter and he ground his teeth harder. "Why is Potter even here, anyway, Mother?"

"Now, Draco, be a good host. And you didn't expect me to go to a social gathering unescorted, did you? Why should Andromeda?"

"That was different! We had no clue where Potter was taking us. And this is a ladies' luncheon, at the home of her sister, no less! What could possibly happen to her? None of the other women brought escorts!" It was perfectly true. The salon was a sea of minks and blue hair, Harry Potter stood in the center of it, as usual, as all of the crones patted his hand and told him he was brave and handsome and all that sort of rot.

"You may be correct, darling. In fact, Harry looks a bit uncomfortable with all the attention. Why don't you take him out and show him the garden while we have our little meeting?"

"I'm sure he's lapping up the praise, as always," Draco huffed. He also wanted to point out that Potter was perfectly welcome to go home and come back to retrieve Aunt Andromeda after the SPoWLASaVPT(bNtEO) meeting. Or even better, Draco could volunteer to escort her home in his stead, saving him from having to see Potter again at all, but he knew he'd just get, at best, a lecture, and more likely another talon to the ribs, so he merely sighed and approached Potter.

"Mother wants me to give you a tour of the gardens," he snapped, trying to convey that everything, ever, was Potter's fault. Once again, thankfully, Potter saved him from having to ask nicely and simply smiled at the ladies who had been clamoring for his attention and followed Draco out to the terrace.

Once outside, Potter heaved a large sigh. "Thanks, Draco. I was starting to suffocate in there."

Draco arched a brow. "You think I was helping you? Providing you with an out? Please! As if I would do that when I clearly despise you. I assure you that the tour was Mother's idea. If you think it was for your benefit, thank her, not me."

"I will thank her, if I ever get up the nerve to go back in there. Ugh. I hate things like that."

"Of course you do," Draco said, preparing to launch into a tirade about Potter's glory-seeking, when suddenly he was struck with the realisation that he hadn't spoken to Potter since Ginny Weasley's wedding. Which meant that the last time he'd been alone with Potter, he'd been… flirted with. Perhaps. He still wasn't entirely clear on that. He wondered if he should broach the subject.

"Hey!" Potter said, startling Draco. "I just realised something! There are no men in there!"

"Brilliant deduction, Potter. Thank goodness the Auror department got its hands on you before some other organisation in need of a crack detective snapped you up."

"No, you prat! We're supposed to be fixing your mum and Andie up with dates! Why did your mother bother to invite Andie when there aren't even any men here?"

How had he not thought of that before? Damn Potter anyway. "Wait here. I'll go ask my mother just what she thinks she's doing, wasting Aunt Andromeda's time and forcing me to socialise with the likes of you."

He spun on his heel and marched back into the salon. A shriveled crone was giving a speech about how some vandal had painted the genitalia of a statue of Mettleford the Modest bright yellow and how it was not at all befitting of the intent behind the work, but Draco largely ignored her and wended his way through the small tables toward his mother.

"Mother," he hissed in her ear. "Just what do you think you're doing? I couldn't help but notice that the entire population of this room is female."

"And?"

"And you invited Aunt Andromeda in the hopes of introducing her to a man! I'm being forced to socialize with Potter under false pretences!"

For a moment, an inscrutable look passed over his mother's delicate features, but then she gave him an arch look and said, "Don't be silly, darling. Many of these women have eligible brothers or friends, or even sons," at that she flashed a look at the old bat who was still waxing poetic about the good deeds of Mettleford the Modest, "that they would be thrilled to introduce to Andromeda."

Draco thought for a moment. It seemed to make sense. It still didn't explain why Potter needed to involve himself in chaperoning duties, but that could just be chalked up to Potter being a disgusting do-gooder and left at that. "Fine, then. But I don't appreciate being charged with nanny detail. Next time Potter can stay home where he belongs."

His mother narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could start berating him about being a proper host, he turned and went back to the terrace. Potter had flopped on a chaise and was looking altogether too comfortable, as if he planned to stay there a while. He was lazily stroking the neck of a snowy white peacock, which looked as enamored of Potter as the old ladies had. Draco prayed for strength.

He explained his mother's logic to Potter, and he simply accepted it with a nod, swinging his legs off the chaise, causing the peacock to make a bereft noise. "Well, then, I suppose I'll be off."

"Why?" Draco said, cursing himself for even asking. It wasn't as if he wanted Potter to stay, was it?

"Andie clearly doesn’t need me watching over her in a room full of old ladies, yes?"

Draco couldn't really argue with that logic. "Fine, then. Shall I escort Andromeda home, then?"

Potter smiled. "Good idea. Why don't you bring Narcissa with you, and we'll have supper together?"

"You're inviting me to your home for a meal?" Draco studied Potter's face, searching for something that could indicate that Potter was under the Imperius curse or possibly suffering from amnesia.

"Well, I thought it would be nice," Potter said, bristling. "They're going to think we're only spending time with them because we're helping them find dates!"

"You think I socialise with my mother for reasons that aren't self-serving? Contrary to what you seem to think, I'm not that sort of man."

"A mama's boy? Yes, you are. And it won't kill you to have one dinner with me, will it?"

Draco sniffed at him. "It likely will."

"Fine, I'll just ask Narcissa, then. I'm sure she'll think it's an excellent idea."

They both knew it was true. Draco was stuck. "Fine then, Potter. But if you put anything in my food, so help me."

"I'm not going to put anything in your food! Merlin, Draco. Just come over about six." And with that, Potter Apparated away, without giving Draco a chance to protest further. Damn him.

The peacock cooed, looking almost jealous, and Draco flapped his arms at it until it strutted off towards the garden.

Draco had to wait an interminable length of time for the biddies to finish their cucumber sandwiches and kiss each others' leathery cheeks. By the time the last pair of orthopedic shoes shuffled out the door, Draco was at his wit's end.

"Nervous, darling?" his mother asked, smiling in a particularly traitorous fashion.

Draco huffed at her. "No, I simply abhor being late. You know this. You instilled it in me."

"We're not going to be late. Honestly, darling. I just need to touch up my face and then we can be off."

He groaned and sank onto a very uncomfortable straight-backed chair in the entryway. "Just hurry, please. This chair is undoubtedly a torture device left over from the Dark Lord's tenure here at the Manor and if I'm sitting in it more than," he consulted his watch, "three and one half minutes, I'm going to leave without you."

His mother didn't seem at all threatened, though, and returned in precisely three minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Draco didn't know whether to be relieved or put out, so he settled for a combination of the two.

It was with these roiling emotions that Draco Apparated to Potter's doorstep, and once his mother was safely by his side, he knocked on the door. It was opened by a curious sight – a small child of some sort. Draco took a step back, peering down at this oddity. "I think we must have the wrong house, Mother."

"Nonsense, Draco. This is your little cousin Teddy. Surely you remember him?" Without waiting for a response, she bent down and ruffled the child's sandy blonde hair. "Who's a sweet wittle boy? Who is? Who's my cute wittle nephew-wefew?" She pinched both of his cheeks, and the boy looked quite put-upon.

"Merlin, lady! I'm six years old! Hands off the merchandise!"

Draco goggled, but his mother seemed unaffected by the child's overt show of poor manners. She breezed past him with another pat on the head, saying, "Teddylumpkins, would you be a lambie and show your cousin Draco to wherever your handsome godfather might be? I'll find your gran on my own." With that, she disappeared into the bowels of the house without a backwards glance, leaving Draco with the small, ill-tempered child.

Draco looked down at the small boy dispassionately. "I hope you're not used to coddling or pet names, as I don't go in for either."

"No way! I know she's your mum and all, but that lady is barking! I'm not a baby!"

"I can see that you're not, yes," Draco said, wondering what on Earth one talked about when conversing with a small, bratty person.

"So, you're here to see Harry?"

"He invited me and Mother for supper. I'm not here to see him. It would have been rude to deny his invitation, though. Speaking of, it's not at all the thing to leave your guests on the stoop all evening."

The tot looked up at Draco with large, startlingly golden eyes. "Right. He's in here." Draco followed the boy into a parlour, where Harry was sitting on a sofa and reading a Quiddich magazine.

Harry looked up and beamed. "Draco! So glad you could make it." He got up and came over, holding out his hand. Draco looked at it, wondering if this very out-of-character show of good manners was for the benefit of the child, but after only a momentary hesitation, he shook Potter's hand.

To Draco's discomfit, Potter held onto him a bit longer than was necessary for a standard handshake. When he was finally released, Draco glanced at Teddy and saw him looking at them with one raised eyebrow. "I thought you weren't here to see Harry," he said, quite dryly for a child.

Harry gave Draco an odd look. "Of course he's here to see me, Teddy. This is my friend, Draco."

"Friend?" Draco gasped. "I think that's a gross exaggeration, don't you, Potter?"

"Don't mind him, Teddy," Harry said with a conspiratorial grin. "He's a bit of an old fuddy-duddy and quite grumpy to boot." Teddy grinned back at Harry, and Draco hissed at both of them.

Harry ignored the hissing and smiled at Draco. "Could I get you a drink? Oh, and please sit anywhere."

"Something with a high percentage of alcohol by volume, please," Draco asked, sinking into a club chair. Harry nodded and left the room, leaving Draco alone with Teddy.

Teddy smirked. "Are you gonna snog Harry?"

Draco choked on his own saliva. "Merlin, I hope not! I can't imagine what sort of potion he'd have to slip in my drink to facilitate that type of behavior!"

"He likes you."

"He does not!" Draco's heart was pounding. Perhaps Potter had been flirting with him at the Weaselette's wedding! "And anyway, how would you know?"

Teddy rolled his eyes. "I live here. I can see how he acts around his boyfriends."

"He has boyfriends?" Draco could have bitten his tongue for allowing that bit of curiosity to burst forth.

"You're jealous!" Teddy crowed. "You like Harry! You like Harry!"

"I do not! I hope he falls in a bottomless pit! I hope his ears shrivel up and drop off! I hope he's gnawed by nifflers until he has bloody stumps where his limbs should be!"

"You like Harry! You like Harry!"

"Shut it, you insolent whelp! I hate him with the burning fire of a million… fires! I hate him like goblins hate thieves! I hate him as much as I hate reduced-fat cream cheese, and I can assure you that's quite a lot!"

"You like Harry! You like Harry!"

Draco was on his feet, approaching the pest with his wand drawn, when Harry returned. Teddy's superior smirk immediately melted into a look of abject terror. "Harry! Harry!" he cried, running to his godfather and tackling him about the knees. "He was going to hex me! That mean man was going to hex me!"

Harry set the tray of drinks aside and scooped Teddy into his arms, looking at Draco with loathing. "How dare you threaten a child? What could he have done to deserve it?"

Teddy lifted his tear-stained face from Harry's neck and looked at Draco, stuck out his tongue in triumph, and buried his face back against Harry with a sob.

"He… He… I… He…" Draco couldn't for the life of him figure out how to explain what had happened.

Teddy looked up again and said, in a voice choked with tears, "All I said was that he looked like my class pet, Mr Whumpums the white rat. And he got mad. It's not rude if it's true, right?"

Harry looked torn between laughter and rage, and Draco clenched his wand even more tightly. "That's not at all what happened! That little brat is lying through his teeth!"

Harry sighed. "It's almost time for supper. Why don't we go to the table and try to be polite to one another, alright?" Teddy nodded and Harry set him down on his feet. He threw a look of superiority over his shoulder at Draco before scampering off to the dining room.

"That's not what happened, Potter! I've never heard of this Mr Whumpums before in my life! That child is attempting to make my life miserable because he thinks…"

"He thinks what?" Harry asked, looking much less angry.

"Nothing. Let's go eat. I don't trust that spawn of Satan alone with my food."

Supper was a trial. An unfair one. The food was delicious, but Draco scarcely tasted a morsel. He concerned himself with keeping both eyes on Teddy at all times, watching for further signs of evil that he could hold up to Harry as proof that the child was a menace to polite society.

However, much to Draco's chagrin, Teddy didn't move so much as a toe out of line through the entire meal.

When Draco had finished the last bite of his pie, which he had finally accepted after thrice declining, he pushed his chair back. "Well, Mother? Shall we?"

"Leaving so soon?" Harry asked, as if Draco would want to stay and be maligned further by the demon spawn across the table.

Draco sneered. "Do you have some after-dinner activities planned? Parlor games? Are you perhaps going to play something for us on the harpsichord?"

"You don't have to get snotty," Harry said, sounding vaguely hurt. "I just meant you didn't have to rush off."

"Well, it's been a long day, what with the SPoWLASaVPT(bNtEO) meeting and all. I'm sure Mother is exhausted."

"I'm not at all tired," Narcissa put in. "If you'd like to stay and socialise, it would be fine with me."

Draco attempted to set her hair on fire with his glare. It didn't work, but he was determined that one day he'd perfect the technique. "I'm tired then. It's not very couth to speak about such things in mixed company, but I'm ready for bed."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Can't you just say, 'I'm knackered. See ya!' or something like that?"

"No, I cannot. I am a product of good breeding, thank you kindly. Now, we're off. Good evening, Aunt Andromeda. It's been a... Well, not a pleasure, but I'm still alive, so there's something."

Aunt Andromeda gave him a rather off-putting glare and air-kissed both Draco and his mother. Teddy shifted from one foot to another, looking as if he were waiting for an opportunity to say or do something that Draco wanted no part of.

"I'll walk you to the door," Potter offered, sounding slightly disappointed about something.

When they reached the door, Narcissa said, "Oh, Harry darling, I've been meaning to tell you. There's a gallery opening tomorrow night, and I'd adore it if Andromeda could attend. Would you happen to know if she's free?"

Draco looked at her strangely. This had not been discussed. He didn't remember any gallery opening on their social calendar. "What is this, Mother? I don't recall us having an engagement tomorrow."

"Oh, didn't I tell you? That nice Mr. Smythwyck from the mixer invited me. He's bringing his brother along, so I told him I'd ask Andromeda as well. I thought I'd told you. It must have slipped my mind." Draco attempted the hair-igniting look again. She was up to something. That much he could ascertain.

Harry tilted his head to the side, considering. "I wish I'd known sooner. I'm on duty tomorrow evening, and I was counting on Andie to mind Teddy. It might be too short notice to call someone else."

Narcissa smiled. "Oh, Draco could do it."

"What did you just say?" he asked in his very most venomous voice.

"You don't have any plans tomorrow night. You just said so. You could come over and stay with Teddy while Andromeda goes with me. Then everyone will be happy!"

"Except me," Draco said, his fingers stiff from clenching them into fists.

"Nonsense! You and Teddy seemed thick as thieves!" Narcissa said breezily.

Potter was looking suspicious now. "I don't know about this. Teddy seemed to... dislike Draco for some reason or another."

"The reason is that he's evil!" Draco seethed, but before he could work up to a good rant, Potter grabbed his arm.

"Could we have a moment, Narcissa?" he said, and dragged Draco around a corner. "Do you know what this is about?"

Draco tried the hair-igniting look on Potter with no more success. "Of course not. Do you see me rubbing my hands together and cackling?"

"Well, this could be good for the plan. I mean, I'm not exactly excited about the idea of leaving you with Teddy after you nearly hexed him, but if they're actually going on dates, then maybe they might be getting serious about having relationships."

"With that dinosaur? Honestly, I hope for everyone's sake that it's the chap's younger brother."

"Draco..."

"Fine. I suppose you have a point. It could further our aims. I don't have to take him to the potty, do I?"

"For Merlin's sake, Draco! He's six!"

"So I've been told..."

The following evening, Draco prepared himself for the worst. He packed a leather satchel with some paperwork that needed attention, various antidotes to known poisons, his protective Quiddich gear, a change of undergarments, a sturdy length of rope, and a copy of his last will and testament. One couldn't be too careful.

When Draco and Narcissa arrived, Potter had already gone to work, so Draco was spared exchanging pleasantries with him. When his mother left with Aunt Andromeda, Draco planted his feet squarely, like a sailor on the deck of a ship, and faced off with Teddy Lupin.

"Alright. There will be some ground rules, are we clear?" When Teddy didn't answer, Draco forged ahead. "One, I am not going to read any stories, kiss any boo-boos, or do any activity which requires sitting on the floor. Two, if you attempt to do anything that harms me in any way, I will tie you to the sturdiest piece of furniture I can locate and leave you there until someone returns to take custody of you. And before you ask, I brought my own rope. Three, I have brought some work from home. I'm going to sit at the table and peruse it, and I will not be disturbed. I'm here only to make sure you're not absconded with. Are we clear?"

Teddy glared at him. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't you have some accoutrements of childhood that could help you pass the time?"

"Acootre-whats?"

"Toys!" Draco shouted, slamming his bag down on the table. He began fishing for the paperwork he'd brought. "Tin soldiers or choo-choo trains or a dollhouse of some kind?"

"A dollhouse! Do you think I'm a girl?"

Draco stiffened. "Dollhouses are unisex toys, I'll have you know. Anyway, I don't care a whit about what you play with. Just find something to do."

Teddy smirked at him and vacated the room, thankfully. Draco smoothed his ruffled feathers and sat down on one of the chairs, spreading his folders in front of him. He opened the one that contained his real estate holdings, and began to work some figures on a piece of scrap parchment.

Suddenly, there was a noise behind him. Draco turned to see Teddy limping in from the other room, clutching his arm. "I fell," he said in a tiny voice, looking on the verge of tears.

Draco panicked. Elegantly, but panic nonetheless. "Where? What? How?"

Two large, shining tears ran down Teddy's face. "I tried to climb up to get a toy. I didn't want to bother you about it, since you wanted me to leave you alone."

Unbidden, a guilty feeling grew in Draco's stomach. Teddy was just a small boy, after all. He hurried to the fireplace and Floo-called the Auror department at the Ministry of Magic. "Please be there," he whispered.

Moments later, after Draco had spoken to a secretary who had spoken to someone else who had spoken to a supervisor, Harry tumbled out of the fireplace. "Where is he? Is he alright? Do we need to go to St. Mungo's?"

Draco didn't rightly know where Teddy had scarpered off to, but a glance in the parlor found Teddy ensconced on the sofa with a blanket and a stuffed panda, eating a large bowl of ice cream. He looked much less peaked. In fact, he looked downright normal. Draco raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Harry!" Teddy called, waving with his left arm - the one he'd supposedly injured.

Draco wondered how he'd had time to run upstairs for a blanket and get himself ice cream until he realised that this was all some sort of game. "Why you little devil!" Draco exclaimed. "You're not really hurt at all!"

Harry looked between the two of them, a frown marring his features. "You're not?" he finally asked Teddy.

Teddy shrugged. "I was. Bad. But then Uncle Draco took really good care of me. He fixed me right up. It doesn't hurt any more at all."

"He did?" Harry asked, sounding very shocked.

Draco raised his other eyebrow to join the first one. He wondered what on Earth the meddling child was up to. First he'd tried to make Draco look bad and now he was trying to make him look good? And he'd need to nip this 'Uncle Draco' business in the bud right quick as well. Then what Potter had said caught up with Draco and he swatted Potter on the arm. "What? You don't think I'm capable of taking care of a child who's been injured?"

However, Potter wasn't paying attention to Draco. He was looking at Teddy with a tender expression on his face, which made him look much less constipated than he normally did, and for some reason, Draco found himself smiling.

Teddy hopped up off the sofa and hugged Harry's waist. "Thanks for coming home to check on me." Then he turned to Draco. "Thanks for taking such good care of me. You're the best, Uncle Draco!" With that, he hugged Draco as well, which was less disturbing than Draco would have suspected it to be, if someone had warned him that it was coming. He looked at both of them. "I'm going to go upstairs and rest. Harry, if you don't have to go back to work right away, you should talk to Uncle Draco. He's really nice. And I think he likes you."

Draco felt his cheeks turning red. "I do not, you meddling brat! We've been over this!"

Teddy gave him an arch look and plodded up the stairs, carrying his ice cream bowl in one hand and the panda in the other. Potter looked over at Draco and smiled. "He probably thinks he's being subtle. About as subtle as your mum and Andie."

Draco wondered what Potter was on about. Then he suddenly realised with crystal clarity exactly what had been going on. The wedding date, the party at the house, dinner over here - they'd all been conspiring against him! Trying to thrust him in with Potter of all people! It was scandalous! He was going to commit matricide. There was nothing else for it.

He looked at Potter. "Just tell me one thing. Were you in on this whole... farcical plot? Did you know? Did you... want this?" he finished softly, wondering what had gotten into him. He hadn't meant to ask Potter that!

Potter blushed, rather charmingly, Draco noticed. "I wasn't in on it. I just... figured it out. And didn't stop them."

"Why?" Draco asked, his voice little more than a gasp.

"I think you know," Potter answered huskily. And before Draco could ruminate on that cryptic statement, Potter had his arms around him and was looking desperately into Draco's face. Draco allowed that perhaps he did know after all; that perhaps he'd known since Ginny Weasley's wedding that Harry fancied him. And that the feeling wasn't entirely un-mutual.

But Draco didn't have time to share these thoughts aloud, because Harry was leaning forward, and Draco was tilting his head to the side, completely involuntarily, and then Harry was kissing him. Really kissing him, and it was so much better than anything had ever been before.

Potter's mouth was full and soft and moist without being overly wet, like some people he could point to, and he was kissing Draco as if it was his occupation. Press, press, pressing their lips together over and over without even trying to use tongue, which was almost chivalrous, and made Draco feel like he was in some kind of old-timey romantic novel.

Draco made a little noise, which would have been humiliating, except that Potter made one too, and Draco slid his hands up to the nape of Potter's neck and stroked his hair. It was surprisingly soft, and Draco would have apologised to his mother for the time he'd mocked her when she complimented it, except that he was killing her soon. Just as soon as he was finished kissing Potter, which at this rate wouldn't be for quite some time.

Just when Draco was considering pulling away to get a decent breath, there was Potter's tongue, teasing him, coaxing Draco to open his mouth as if he were a bloody schoolgirl. However, Draco might just have been, because as soon as Harry's tongue was in his mouth, sliding silkily along his own, Draco lifted one leg and hooked it around the back of Harry's thigh, clinging to him, fighting off a swoon.

And of course, that's how Narcissa and Andromeda found them. They just had to come in when Draco was standing on one leg, poised to allow Potter to bend him back over the sofa and ravish him. Death was too good for his mother. Torture would have to come first. Draco considered the chair in the Manor's entryway, and wondered exactly how long could make her sit in it for before she went completely mad.

Apparently, though, she'd already gone round the twist, as she smiled beatifically at them and said, "I suppose you'll want to thank us now."

"Thank you?" Draco exclaimed. "Why in Merlin's name would I thank you for being a meddling old biddy? I was managing my love life just fine on my own!"

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course. You and Milton had quite the epic romance."

"Milo!" Draco snapped. "And Milo was fine until you-"

"Who's Milo?" Harry snapped, grabbing Draco's arm and cutting him off mid-tirade.

Draco looked at Potter's angry, jealous face, and smirked a little. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Potter's hand tightened on his arm, but before he could ask more questions, Narcissa interrupted. "Milo wasn't good enough for you," she sniffed. "When you have Harry over to the house, I won't make him look at any photo albums. I won't make you snacks. I'll go out to the garden and put on the wireless. At a high volume."

Draco looked at Harry. Harry looked at Draco. Draco smiled a little. "Would you like to come over to my house? There are no snacks, unfortunately, but there's privacy."

Harry grinned. "I'll go hungry."

Draco looked at his mother. Perhaps she'd earned a reprieve. The chair could wait, unless she failed to follow through on her promise. He'd keep a strict eye on her, though.

With a nod at his mother and aunt, Draco hurried for the Floo. Just as he was flinging the powder into the fire, he heard Teddy's voice ask, "Did it work?"

Traitors, the lot of them! Draco had a lot of justice to mete out. However, it would have to wait, since, luckily for them, he had a more pressing matters at hand.