An Excerpt
"Talking to me again?" Harry asked mildly, only half-teasing. He didn't like how important the question suddenly seemed, or his own private eagerness.
"If that's what we're calling it," Draco murmured in answer, keeping his voice low. He reached the top step and stayed there, setting one hand atop the stone banister. It left a purposeful, conspicuous distance between them.
Harry fidgeted, not knowing what else to say. This felt bizarrely formal, and he wondered why Draco hadn't just resumed speaking to him during the detention they'd shared a few hours ago.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." The sound barely carried. Draco blinked slowly, inscrutable. "I've considered it and decided you were right."
Harry's eyebrows shot upwards. "Oh?"
"Don't let it mean anything, it had to happen eventually."
"Yeah, that's more like it. What was I right about?"
There was a beat of pensive silence.
"The value of us remaining discrete."
"Oh. Right." For some reason, that wasn't at all what Harry had been expecting him to say. He thought back on their argument, but it was all a jumble of confused, half-remembered accusations. "Okay?"
"And just for the record - I get it." Draco stood a little straighter, gaze sliding off to one side. "If anyone understands the importance of public image, it's a Malfoy."
Unsure he liked where this was going, Harry shifted uneasily. "What does -?"
"I'll be the filthy secret, then. If that's what you want."
Harry flinched as if Draco had yelled the words rather than state them calmly. The offer hung heavy in the air between them with all the weight of an accusation.
