When Draco arrived, Snape had already laid out a sensible tea of sandwiches, fruit, and warm scones with clotted cream and jam. "Yours?" asked Draco by way of greeting, dipping a finger in the red stuff and finding it strawberry rhubarb, a favourite of his.

"And here I thought it was Potter who had no manners," said Snape, though his tone was teasing. They were beyond such niceties in private, after the time they'd spent together on the run; Draco would never admit to Snape how much he both regretted and was grateful that Snape had refused to acknowledge any of Draco's attempts to seduce, back then.

Draco flopped into the chair and pulled out a folded bit of parchment, putting out of his mind the idea of seducing Snape, or being seduced by, now that he was a man grown. "Now, now," he said, waving his wand so a perfect cup of tea began to make itself. "Play nice, or I won't give you my notes."

Snape snorted. "Yes, dear," he said, his voice almost a challenge under the teasing. Snape had no idea how much it meant to Draco, to be given this chance to relate as adults rather than student to teacher, and Draco wasn't about to tell him. "Why don't you tell me who you think accepted, and we'll go from there?"

"Give me a scone, and I will," said Draco, unfolding his paper. He'd have some of the sandwiches in a bit, but right now the lure of fresh scones with Snape's jam was too much to resist. He unfolded the paper while Snape sliced open one of the scones, slathering the inside with jam and cream and setting it on a small plate. "You said nine, right? And I know four right off, because of the kisses, plus Eugenia practically told us she'd accepted, and Frannie as well."

"Go on," said Snape, nonchalantly licking a bit of stray cream off one of his long fingers. Draco's mouth went dry for a moment, and he tried very hard not to stare in amazed lust at the sight of Severus Snape flirting.

He cleared his throat and continued. "Yes, well. I'm equally sure that horrid Hepsibeth refused, and I got the impression that Eugenia's friend was out as well." He looked down the list for her name. "Winifred Grey."

"Correct so far," said Snape, obviously amused by something, whether it was Draco's recitation or his reaction to the sight of Snape's tongue curling around a fingertip.

"The gigglers, Malkin and Flourish, either both did or both didn't. Trimble seemed pretty convinced that you'd be an asset to his business, so I'm going to guess he did accept. Hm," said Draco, looking at the remaining names. "Cubbins seemed unconvinced, so my final guess is neither he nor Manchester accepted, but you got both the gigglers."

"Correct on all counts. I see you haven't lost your aptitude," said Snape, just the smallest hint of real approval sneaking into his tone.

Draco smiled. "Thank you. You haven't lost your charm, either," he replied, sweet as the jam and smooth as the cream, both quite fake as he referred to a long-running joke between them. He rewarded himself with a big bite of both, humming softly as the flavours melted together in his mouth as he chewed and swallowed. "I'm assuming you're going to keep Harry as long as he'll stay?" he asked.

"Would you believe me if I said, until the end if he'll have me?" said Snape, with one of those flashes of painful honesty that had always caught Draco off-guard.

Draco nodded, a little surprised but not as much as he thought he should be. "Is this new, or..."

"Relatively new. I couldn't stand him until he grew a proper spine, and even then he was far too young. This new Harry is... intriguing. He's grown into a man worth having, if he'd only stop wandering about the globe," said Snape, busying himself by making a cup of tea for himself by hand, a splash of milk in the bottom of the cup and strong tea to the brim after, followed by a single candied rose petal. Draco had learned the hard way not to ask about the rose petals.

"Well, you could always arrange for him to see your cock. It did wonders for me," said Draco, referring to the times they'd been forced into close enough quarters that modesty became out of the question.

"Somehow," said Snape, taking a sip of his tea, "I don't think it would work quite as well on him as it did on you. Not even he knows if he bottoms."

Draco laughed. "True, true. But I'll tell you one thing, your Welshman would dearly love to find out. I'm not sure he'd have stayed if he hadn't seen you curl Harry's toes with that kiss."

"I expect not, but as you said, now that I've got him he seems a good candidate. Respectable job, strong body, amiable disposition, and not entirely put off by my appearance and reputation," said Snape, toying with a sandwich.

Draco finished off his scone while he ruminated on what to say to that, washing it down with the last of his tea. "There's more to you than notoriety and a big nose," said Draco with a shrug. "I never knew how you did it, but I've always found you very compelling. Some of it's the voice, I suspect."

"The voice?" said Snape, raising an eyebrow. He intercepted the sugar and began to make Draco's fresh cup himself, as much to have something to do with his hands as anything else, Draco suspected.

"You know," said Draco with a shrug. "Anyway, the nose just makes people look at your feet, and then wonder about your other attributes," he teased, glancing significantly at Snape's lap.

"Not everybody has the sensibilities of a giggling Firstie," said Snape, rolling his eyes and handing Draco his cup.

"Mmm, perfect," said Draco after a sip. "You were always good at that, giving people what they want. Dinner was a masterpiece."

Snape inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you. It was refreshing to research people for personal gain rather than a more sinister motive."

"Nice not to think about how best to kill or control them, if they won't behave?" said Draco, remembering the long night they'd spent carefully crystallizing a very special batch of pineapple. They'd both been relieved when, come morning, the need for it had finally been obviated, and the wizarding world had celebrated Harry Potter for the second time around while they destroyed the evidence.

Snape nodded, and Draco suppressed his own urge to comfort, instead toeing off his shoes and curling up in the chair, setting a plate of sandwiches floating off to one side with his cup and saucer. "Well, you're going to continue courting me, because I'm splendid, and Guinness, because he's splendid in a Welsh sort of way, and Potter, because he's splendid and a virgin, so he'll appreciate whatever he gets," said Draco, hoping to banish the memories with a return to the original topic.

"And Lenis, though I might not have if I had the choice," said Snape.

"Kiss that bad?" asked Draco.

Snape chuckled, a dry sound that didn't bode well for Lenis' future invitations. "No, he's quite skilled, but a bit too much like Lockhart for my tastes -- all flash and no substance."

"He's got a hidden agenda, kissing you like that. He was very nonchalant about the whole affair, until Potter kissed you, and suddenly he was all over you like suckers on the giant squid," said Draco, nibbling on a sandwich that proved to be watercress.

Snape coughed. "Yes, well, I think we both know that Potter pretty much guaranteed my success in his own fumbling manner," he said. Intriguing, that he might be more affected by Potter's kiss than he liked to admit.

"To round out the men, there's Trimble. I really do think he'd stick it out, if it came to that. His family has been hit by the recent increases in potion prices, and since they're in Hogsmeade they can't ask me for relief funds, though I'm thinking of extending a hand to that community next fiscal year," said Draco, looking at his notes. "He's a bit of a bore, but he's got a whole clan to help raise the kids, who would likely end up cobblers."

Snape made a noncommittal sound, as he was in the midst of consuming one of his own scones so full of clotted cream and jam that it threatened to ooze out over everything. Draco caught himself staring again, so he busied himself with his tea and sandwiches, delighted to find the little round ones had a curried chicken salad inside. "I'll likely keep him, as he's one of the few that's seriously thinking of me as a marriage prospect, even if there isn't much attraction there."

"Right, that's five, then. You've got to pick two of the four women," said Draco, looking over the list. "I don't envy you; it's gigglers or Eugenia, who looks old enough to be your mother."

"She is," said Snape with a sigh. "She only agreed to go through with this on the guarantee she wouldn't make it very far, so I ought to allow her this early out."

Draco nodded. "Best keep in her good graces," he said, knowing that even after the match was made Snape might need other favours to make his new family work.

"So that leaves me with," Snape pulled a face, "three gigglers. Frannie seems the best of the three, but if I split up the other two then I'm likely to lose the other anyway."

Draco shrugged. "You're only losing two the next round, why not Lenis and the last one? Frannie comes off as brainless but I think it's an act."

Snape nodded. "I agree. I had worried we might lose someone else, but if the others seem solid enough to you, I'll send my thanks to Eugenia, and my regrets to... hm."

"Flourish. She's the dumber of the two, and further along the family tree as well," said Malfoy, checking his notes to be sure. "Amelia Malkin is a niece, though not a favoured one."

"Still, there's potions that a robe shop of Malkin's calibre needs, baths for strengthening the fabric and the like," said Snape thoughtfully. "The book restoration expert at Flourish and Blotts is an accomplished potions master in his own right, so they wouldn't have any use for my services."

"So now it's just a matter of wording it so little Euthanasia Flourish doesn't take offence when you Court Malkin and not her," said Draco thoughtfully. The letters had to conform to a style, but within that loose format there was a lot of room for the suitor to help or hinder his Courtship. "Say something about her being too good for you, that you regret that you're only allowed seven and four were stolen by kisses, and all that rot. Girls love to hear they're the one that got away."

"I shall think on it; I trust I can count on you to be discreet?" said Snape, stretching in his seat and eyeing the desk. "You're welcome to stay, I've got enough supper for two later if you don't mind steak and kidney pie."

Draco understood the implicit dismissal and plea in one; Snape was letting him go if he wanted, while fishing for his help with the tedious task of writing thirteen formal missives. "I'd love to stay and read that book you still won't let me borrow," he said with a private little smile. "Have you got our next gifts picked out?"

Snape sighed. "I'm not expected to have them until the second meeting, but I have put some thought into them. I don't want to be too obvious, so nobody will be getting Quidditch gear, but I haven't had any brilliantly insightful ideas yet, either."

"Decided on the next event? Harry's dreading the idea of another dinner," said Draco, finishing off the last sandwich on his plate, cucumber this time, a smug grin decorating his features.

"Again, just ideas," said Snape. He stood and went over to the desk, and began clearing things away. "It's a good thing I had some money saved up, or this Courtship would put me in the poorhouse. That dinner alone!" He shook his head, tucking the bill away in a folio that had been hiding under the mess.

"What about a Quidditch match?" asked Draco. "Though that's as good as declaring you're all for the blokes, I suppose."

"Someone's guaranteed to be unhappy no matter what I choose," said Snape, "though I must admit I'll be looking to please some more than others." He sat down, desk now clean but for the folio, a list of names, a stack of the heavy cards required for all Courtship correspondence, plus envelopes, quill, ink and blotter.

Draco was amused to see that the refusal cards were on top -- they said "Thank you" on the outside in flowing silver script, where the ones asking to be allowed further Courtship would have Snape's monogram. "Harry and I will be two of the some, I hope," said Draco loftily, finding a great deal of irony in the idea of Snape making an effort to please Potter, and with Draco helping no less.

"Of course," said Snape, glowering at the card in front of him. He sighed. "Eugenia first, as she will be one of the easiest."

"I'll just raid your bookshelves. Did you want another cuppa? I promise not to forget the rose petal," Draco coaxed, hating to see the old frown back on Snape's face. It was there a lot, but still less than in the bad old days. Draco liked to think he had something to do with the decrease, despite their intermittent contact between then and now.

A smile quirked one side of Snape's mouth. "Perhaps as a reward once I've finished this first one," he said.

"And so it shall be done," said Draco, levering himself up on the chair and looking for the volume in question, a series of essays on the definition of Dark Arts and the ways in which you could use some of the powers and stay on the side of the Light. It was a rare book today, as many of the rituals inside could be accomplished with or without the consent of the parties involved, and most of the printing had been quietly confiscated by a paranoid Ministry.

They sat in silence for a quarter of an hour, Draco reading and Snape scratching away with his quill and occasionally swearing quietly. Eventually Snape sat back and stretched, beckoning to Draco. "See if this meets your approval?"

Draco set the book aside, moving the ribbon to mark his place. "You certainly did agonize over it enough," he said teasingly, coming over to stand behind Snape and read over his shoulder. "This is long, don't you have a book of the forms?"

"I do, but Eugenia's required a more personal touch," said Snape irritably as Draco read.

"So I see," said Draco, surprisingly moved by Snape's account of the first time he'd met her as a boy, back when his parents still had the means for his mother to invite others to tea once in awhile. There was an underlying pain there, resentment against the grinding poverty that had followed and a quiet grief for a mother long gone, things that shone through with a painful honesty. "I think she'll be well pleased," said Draco quietly, giving Snape's shoulders a squeeze. "Owl her in a few days and ask her to tea, though, or she might never forgive you for making her cry."

Snape looked up, startled, and just for a moment it seemed he might destroy the note and start over rather than admit to such a weakness. After a tense heartbeat, he nodded and signed the bottom with a little flourish. "I'll owl her once everyone's sent their formal consent and invite her to join me for a celebratory tea," he said, using his wand to dry the ink before stuffing the letter in an envelope. "And now I believe you owe me a cup?"

"Yes, Severus," said Draco with a little laugh, brushing a kiss over Snape's cheek before going to make the promised tea, revelling in the freedom to do both.

Draco found himself properly considering accepting Snape's suit himself for the first time, not out of some prurient curiosity, as a last resort to save Snape's Courtship, or even the affection that he'd held for Snape since he was quite young. He was beginning to see there would be more to the match than that. Snape had been an excellent spy, wizard and mentor, and had learned over the years just how much of himself to show to get the maximum benefit out of each perceived moment of weakness. Draco realized he could use someone like that on his side, not to mention the added benefit of finally getting a taste of Snape's other assets.

Draco knew he was a little flushed when he brought Snape's cup over, but Snape was preoccupied with his next refusal, a small book open and floating nearby. "I knew you had to have it hidden around here somewhere," said Draco, setting the tea out of harm's way and circling around to see the title. "I didn't even know they'd done a fortieth edition of Letters for All Occasions," he said, amused. The copy in the Malfoy library was nearly as old as the family itself, and more a curiosity than a useful reference book; Draco kept a 38th edition in his desk that he'd used just last week when accepting Snape's invitation.

"They've added in Harry Potter Day event parties," said Snape, his voice so dry that Draco couldn't tell if he was joking.

"Well, if you marry him then you'll be able to have your very own private ones from now on," he replied instead, coming back around to read over Snape's shoulder. "That's pretty good, but you should change 'obliged' to 'pleased' if you don't want it to be quite so obvious you'd rather bed a trout."

Snape laughed and made the requisite adjustment, using his charmed quill to brush away the offending word before replacing it with Draco's more acceptable substitute. "She wasn't quite such a harridan when I knew her last," said Snape, finishing it off and signing with a rather satisfied flourish.

"You need a nubile young man in your bed anyway," said Draco, posing against the desk.

Snape snorted. "Unless you're volunteering, in which case we'd still have to go through the whole Courtship nonsense as it's too late to back out, I don't believe you get to decide that."

Draco gave him a demure, secret smile. "Then you'll have to wait and see, won't you?" he replied airily, going back to drape himself attractively in Snape's line of sight and read his book. After all, if he stopped talking now, then he couldn't say something he'd regret later.

Snape made a sound of disbelief and went through the lengthy process of addressing, sealing and charming the letter, then laid it carefully atop the first, and took up another card. They spent the afternoon like that, Draco helping with a word here and a phrase there, until there were only two left to be done -- his own, and Potter's. "Shall we break for supper first?" said Draco, eyeing the last two names on Snape's neat list meaningfully.

Snape chuckled and stood. "Quite the far cry from the boy who used to demand everything his way, right now, on pain of telling his father," he said.

Draco winced. "We should never speak of that again," he said, trying not to think about what a spoiled brat he'd been, so full of his own importance and his father's ideas. It had taken a lot to shake an original thought into his head, and he had long ago accepted that he could never repay Snape for helping him find his way when all paths seemed to lead to the Dark Lord's feet. "Ever," he added, just for good measure.

"At least you actually earned your marks in my class," said Snape casually, a concession Draco had never before heard him make.

Draco found himself grinning like an idiot, and couldn't be bothered to stop. "Haven't I always said that pretty and brainless was just an act to fool my enemies?"

Snape hid his own answering smile, though it kept peeking out at the corners of his mouth when he spoke. "It's a good thing I'm not your enemy, then, though you may have to work a bit to convince Potter of your wit."

Draco couldn't help but laugh. "Are you kidding? I think after last night he's convinced I'm the only person who can possibly get him through this Courtship with his reputation intact."

Snape finally let his smile out, though it had transformed itself to a more calculating cousin of the original. "Not to mention his virtue," he said.

Draco laughed harder and followed him into the kitchen, where Snape already had supper for two ready under a warming charm. "I see my cunning attempts to seem coy have utterly failed," said Draco, taking a seat at the table. Snape's home was already growing familiar, though he'd only been invited a few times in the past year, and he took the opportunity to look around and see what had changed. It pleased him that Snape had found a way to make a good living for himself despite the lingering stain of his old notoriety, and he saw small signs of that prosperity everywhere, from the stocked bookshelves in the other room to the quality and abundance of the food and cookware in here.

"Years of practice," replied Snape, setting a plate in front of Draco containing a generous slice of steak and kidney pie, a pile of asparagus spears in Hollandaise, and small helping of curried fruit.

Draco smiled and picked up his fork. "At least if I'm still eating with you in a kitchen, hidden away from the world," he said, "the cuisine has vastly improved."

Snape shook his head, though that teasing smile was back, and returned with two glasses and a nice bottle of red wine. "Hardly hidden," he said, pouring for them both.

"Says the man with an Unplottable, unregistered house in the midst of Muggle London," said Draco. He'd half suspected the house was under Fidelius as well, but that didn't seem to be the case; it was simply too much trouble for reporters to find the place, given Potter's very public outrage the last time The Daily Prophet had run a negatively slanted article on Snape.

Snape took a sip of his wine and declined to dignify Draco's comment with a response. Instead, he went back to their original discussion, a subject which was bound to be much on his mind. "Despite my improvements in fortune and demeanour, I have trouble believing that Potter would seriously consider... me."

Draco let out the sad smile he would have kept to himself, were he with anyone but Snape. "Before yesterday I might have agreed, but he's not the rashly prejudiced boy he once was, no more than I am," said Draco. He let an impish curl chase the sadness from his lips and added, "Besides, I saw his face after that kiss. He's curious now, and interested."

Snape raised one eyebrow, busy chewing a mouthful of dinner. Draco took a bite of his own and found it excellent, though of course Snape had always had good taste when they'd had the rare opportunity to acquire fresh food without risk to life and limb.

Snape washed his bite down with a bit of wine and appeared to be contemplating the matter. He finally set down his fork and looked Draco in the eye, making Draco swallow nervously. "And what about you? The foolish crushes of one's youth and your wine-soaked promise aside, I cannot see how I could be a suitable match."

Draco was mortified to feel his cheeks heating. "You have more to offer a man in my position than you might think," said Draco. He stalled for a moment by taking a slow, savouring sip of his own wine, then continued, "I won't decide until I have to, but I won't deny that I'm considering it. You."

Snape looked surprised and gratified, and something else besides that lurked beneath the emotions he was willing to show Draco. Draco hoped his blush wasn't too noticeable and went back to his food, heart hammering in his chest as Snape paused just a little too long for Draco's nerves before replying, "I will keep that in mind." He paused again, just long enough for Draco to start squirming over the thought that he'd made an idiot of himself having a crush on Snape now, just as he had as a boy. "I never expected to have a chance with either of you, and now I find myself overwhelmed by my choices," he said finally, his voice just a little rough.

Draco's eyes snapped up, but Snape's face was carefully blank. Draco cursed the part of him that always wanted what Potter wanted, and even though this time he'd wanted it first it would still be a competition of a sorts. He and Potter would work to capture Snape's attention, while Snape was forced to Court them both and hope he was left with something worth having at the end of it. Draco didn't envy him one bit.

Snape and Draco shared a moment of painful understanding, then Draco gave in to his stupid, eternal urge to make a joke of everything he didn't want to face and said, "At least you're a more worthwhile prize than the House Cup."

"I am not a Snitch," said Snape darkly, but the humour was back in his eyes.

Draco smiled to himself, and the rest of the meal passed in less serious conversation, bandying about ideas for future outings and Snape fishing for gift ideas in a deliberately unsubtle manner, which Draco pretended to be oblivious to anyway. All in all, it was a wonderful evening, and in the end he wasn't even hurt when he was sent away without seeing his own letter, or Potter's. After all, he'd see them both in a day or two.

---

Severus stared at the pile of letters, still short two despite the progress he'd made the previous evening. Once Draco had gone, Severus had been unable to concentrate, too distracted by the idea that the body he'd once so sinfully coveted might become legitimately his to pleasure, not to mention the political and social clout that the Malfoy name had regained thanks to Draco's shrewd manoeuvring and Potter's ringing endorsement. He himself had benefited greatly from Potter's vehement defence of his actions, but some things were less forgivable than others, and some people as well.

He dipped his quill in the ink and forced himself to write in the card, carefully following the dictated form and feeling a sense of irony as he did so, knowing that Potter couldn't tell the difference either way.

Severus stared at the note for a long time, hating how very vulnerable he felt, sending a note like this to Harry Potter of all people. Still, it would do as well as any other, and presuming Potter allowed Severus to court him awhile longer, there would be opportunities for more intimate conversation, and time to discover whether Potter could truly consider him as a husband and lover.

Severus shook his head, dismissing the foolish thoughts and sealing the letter away. Potter would likely think it all hot air anyway, pretty words in service of the ritual rather than any sort of sincerity on Severus' part. He quickly addressed the envelope and added it to the pile, pulling over the final pristine card and trying to decide which of the dozen letters he'd written out in his head to use. Despite Draco's kind words after the dinner, Severus hadn't allowed himself to believe that he had any real chance with Draco until last night, when he'd actually blushed, sitting there in Severus' kitchen.

Severus dipped the quill once more, smiling this time as he began to write.

It wasn't everything he might have wanted to say, but Severus rather thought that between them it would be enough. Besides, Draco was bound to show Potter the letter, which was reason enough to keep it on the formal side of things. A quick spell dried the ink and Severus had it sealed and ready to go before he could change his mind, taking the top seven cards off the stack and readying his cloak; it was customary to send out the acceptances first, in case one of them had to back out, so that a previous refusal could be quietly rewritten without undue embarrassment on the part of either party.

Wand ready, pouch full of coins and cloak wrapped tightly around him, Severus headed for the post office to send off the owls, brutally dismissing all foolish metaphors about hope and flight from his mind. Now was not the time for such fancy, not with his entire life at stake.

---

Malfoy's owl arrived while Harry was still staring at the sealed envelope from Snape, trying to work himself up to opening it. It was ridiculous, of course, that he would be nervous; that didn't stop him from leaving it sealed in favour of opening it at Malfoy's, in less than an hour according to the invitation. After all, he had to shower and dress, so there was no reason to waste time reading something Malfoy would want to see anyway.

The excuse sounded thin even to him, but he left the letter where it was while he showered anyway, dressing in one of his more casual sets of new robes, thankfully ones that had thus far escaped Hedwig's attention. They were heavy silk with a charm on them to allow him to change the colour, or even set it to change in accordance with any number of things. He'd apparently left them set to his mood, as they turned bright pink with a redder spot reminiscent of banked coals over his entire torso. He quickly changed them to shift to go well with his colouring and surroundings, and they faded to a deep red that matched his Gryffindor bedroom set.

They turned a chestnut brown in the living room, fading to black at the hem, and he found he liked the effect almost enough to keep it. The unopened letter went into his pocket, and he hefted the bottle of honey wine he'd had owled from Egypt, then Apparated to the coordinates in Malfoy's note, which turned out to be a small room decorated in green and white marble. His robes turned a deep green that was darker near the floor and brightest at the shoulders, the colour taking on a streaky pattern that felt a little too much like Muggle camouflage. He began to wonder if he'd take on the pattern of the couch like a chameleon when Malfoy came in and distracted him.

"Right on time and dressed like a proper wizard, I see. Hedwig being good?" asked Malfoy, looking smugly amused.

Harry felt the old urge to hex the look off Malfoy's face, but it was a pale shadow of what it had been back when it was fuelled by new hurts and teen angst. Instead he just smirked, handed Malfoy the wine and said, "No, I took all the old robe-remains and left them by her cage, then warded her and the kneazle both out of my wardrobe. I even donated the wool robe to charity." He'd had a lot of nervous energy to burn off in the past few days, and his home was already looking more like an adult actually lived there.

"Nice choice," said Malfoy, looking at the bottle. "Does the kneazle have a name?" he asked, hooking his arm through Harry's to lead him out of the small entryway and into the main foyer, a high-ceilinged room done in white marble and tasteful gilt. Harry's robes shifted, paling until they were a sea green with streaks of white, and a small edging of gold appeared at his cuffs.

He flushed. "Er, not really. I mean, he wasn't really mine, only he is now because the other neighbour is moving next week and she's asked if I'll keep him, so I suppose I ought to..." Harry realized he was babbling, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. At least until they made their way into a blue and silver parlour off the main hall, and he found Gaerwn already installed there, sipping on a delicate cup of Russian design in blue the exact shade of the couch.

"Harry, nice to see you again!" said Gaerwn cheerfully. "Draco was beginning to worry we'd have to find a chaperone after all."

"Candidates aren't allowed to fraternize with unattached members of their preferred gender without a third party present," explained Malfoy, looking slightly sheepish. "I forgot until I was re-reading the literature I have on the rite, so I asked Gaerwn to join us."

"Oh," said Harry, feeling oddly deflated, though it wasn't like he had designs on Malfoy. Not really, anyway, and he wouldn't have done anything to jeopardise Snape's Courtship. "Well, that's all right, I mean, it's not like you think I've any sort of clue about this stuff."

"I'm fairly sure the entire wizarding world is aware of your lack of education in this regard by now," said Malfoy, referring to the unfortunate Prophet article announcing Snape's Courtship in which Harry and his social blunders featured prominently.

Harry flushed, and Gaerwn laughed. "Watch it, or your robe'll turn red to match," he said, and Harry looked down to see that his robe had gone to the same deep blue as everything else in the room, with a bit of pattern around the hems in white and silver.

"I turned that off," said Harry with a little cough. He pulled the slightly crumpled envelope out of his pocked and sat with a sigh. "Well, I guess I've put this off as long as possible."

"You haven't opened it yet?" said Malfoy, with a note of something Harry couldn't quite define lurking under the mocking disbelief.

Harry shrugged. "I'm a very special boy with very special needs," he said, quoting something he'd heard Malfoy say to Pomfrey once when they were in the infirmary.

Malfoy coughed and reddened and busied himself pouring tea while Harry cracked the seal and read his card. "These are sort of form letters, right?" he asked, puzzling his way through the Snapeish language.

"To an extent," said Malfoy, pulling out his own and swapping it for Harry's. "Well, well, well, it looks like you made an impression on our old teacher."

Harry read Malfoy's and blushed. "Is that all right, you spending time alone with him?"

Malfoy shrugged. "One of the quirks of the custom -- since he's already declared his intent to marry one of us, he's allowed private meetings as it's assumed he wouldn't damage any of us. Of course, virginity is no longer a requirement, but it is still assumed that any affair between the candidate and suitor is trying out the wares so to speak, whereas between candidates it shows a lack of fidelity."

"You talk just like him sometimes," said Harry, shaking his head. The letter to Malfoy was so much warmer, and it brought that chest-squeezing envy back to the fore; Harry was close to so few people these days, physical distance equalling an emotional one with many of his friends.

"I could do worse," said Malfoy in mock-offended tones, reclaiming his letter and giving Harry a perfectly prepared cup of tea.

"What's yours say?" Harry asked Gaerwn, taking a sip.

Gaerwn shrugged. "Didn't bring it, but it was basically the same. Thanks for coming, bet we'd make a nice couple, thanks for the kiss, invite soon, kindness, etc."

"I thought that was a little weird," said Harry, having noted it in both closing lines. "Snape never was much for talking about kindness." Harry gathered his thoughts with another sip of tea and asked as casually as he could manage, "So, are either of you thinking of really marrying him?"

Malfoy shot Harry a look that indicated a less than favourable opinion of Harry's intelligence and tact and said, "I am, yes."

"Oh, yes, especially after that kiss," said Gaerwn, looking amused. That seemed to be his standard response to most everything, which made Harry wonder what he had going on underneath.

"He's very compelling," Malfoy remarked, trying to sound casual and not quite making it.

"That's a good way of putting it," said Harry ruefully, wishing he wasn't feeling quite so compelled at the mere memory of Snape's lips and hands on him.

Gaerwn chuckled. "And now the real reason we meet in threes, so we can't give in to the temptation to hex the competition without witnesses," he said, giving them a wink.

Harry and Malfoy laughed, as much from their shared history as Gaerwn's wit. "I guess that's fair. Did people of, er, better status sometimes do the Courtship?"

"That Fortescue did," said Malfoy. "He likely could have made a good enough claim without it, but this afforded him a lot of legal protection, not to mention a willing spouse to help him run the place."

"Right, you mentioned that," said Harry, settling back into his chair so he could see both Malfoy and Gaerwn. "So, what's next, anyway?"

Malfoy lounged back in his seat as well, somehow making what on Harry was a slouch look graceful and just a touch sexy. "Severus will invite the remaining seven of us to an event, likely something that will give an opportunity to mingle as well as show his capability to share the interests of his future spouse," said Malfoy, his sharp, lecturing tone an obvious imitation of Snape's. "Then he will invite us individually to tea over the course of the following week, the order of the invitations carefully arranged so as to convey subtle status to his favoured candidates, and he will present us each with our second token, and anyone who wishes to back out will take that opportunity to inform him."

"And how many do we go down to then, four?" asked Harry. That was one more than half, just like the previous time.

Malfoy shook his head. "Five, actually. Then it will go down to three, and from those three he will attempt to win a spouse. Traditionally at that point there is one who is ahead of the pack, so to speak, but the one Severus most desires may not be the one willing to accept his proposal. Three marriage contracts will be drawn up, and all three of the final candidates will receive offers. If he gets more than one acceptance, which is often the case, then he will be allowed some small choice in the rest of his life."

"So right now he's just hoping that the person he really wants is willing to stick it out long enough for him to convince them he's worth marrying?" asked Harry, getting another of those calculating looks from Malfoy.

"That is correct. Though occasionally a suitor will be unable to choose between two candidates and all three will form a household together, that is very rare unless it was the intention from the start, as a Petitioner's Courtship is one of the few ways to achieve such a thing legally," said Malfoy distantly, obviously lost in thought.

Harry blinked. "Three? Wow, that's... you'd have to buy a big bed."

Gaerwn laughed. "There hasn't been a marriage like that in nigh on a hundred years, and as Draco said, usually it was done by people who were in love already and wanted to legally wed."

"So, if the three of us fall madly in love," said Harry, his tone teasing but mind whirling, "then one of us would have to do this whole Courtship thing and pursue all those people just so we three could marry?"

"Right," said Gaerwn, eyes twinkling. "It's to show your eyes won't stray, even when you're courting the cream of society, because it was considered a great compliment to be invited in that case, the implication being that marrying the person in question would be nearly as good as getting to wed your two loves."

"And here I thought 'implication' had too many syllables in it for you," said Malfoy, eyes twinkling, back from wherever his mind had gone. "You were in Ravenclaw and you're fooling us all, aren't you?"

Gaerwn flushed and laughed. "You caught me," he said sheepishly. "No one likes a smart Beater, so I'm used to hiding it."

Harry chuckled. "You'll be sad to find out I'm just not that bright," he said, thinking back to all the trouble he'd had keeping up in school. He'd always thought it was a minor miracle he'd learned enough to pass any NEWTs besides Defence, and a much larger one that he'd killed Voldemort, even with everyone helping him from Hermione to Snape.

They laughed on cue, and then Malfoy and Gaerwn got into a discussion of the tradition and its origins, and Harry tuned them out. He couldn't care less if it was 1423 or 1432 when they abolished the Courtship Chaperone, or what year the Ministry stopped verifying the virginity of all candidates before and after the Courtship, only that they had. Instead he allowed himself to fantasize just a little on the idea of him in bed with not one but two other men, though his mind couldn't quite decide which two it wanted to present to him. He wasn't as surprised as he thought he'd be that no women appeared in any of the permutations, though he had snogged a few in his time and found it nearly as inspiring as the single time he'd had a chance to snog a bloke for more than two seconds.

He realised that their conversation had stopped and they were staring at him, and said intelligently, "Er, what?"

Gaerwn hid his laugh in his teacup, but Malfoy didn't bother. "I asked if you wanted to have tea here, or go out somewhere."

"And I asked when I could take the two of you out properly to tour the Quidditch pitch during a practice, in the time where you were busy not answering Draco," said Gaerwn, eyes dancing with mischief.

Harry chuckled wryly. "Anytime, and wherever you two prefer, though I'll remind you of my table manners before you drag me to some posh restaurant."

"Trust Potter to not care about the bill, but worry about his bad press," drawled Malfoy in a fair imitation of his old self.

Harry glared. "You know perfectly well that I've got plenty stashed away, especially after living abroad on Gringotts' Knut for the past few years," he said, pretending an affront, though he wasn't about to expose poor Gaerwn to the levels of hostility he'd presented to Malfoy in their school days.

"Well, as I'm a mere second-stringer, I'll go wherever the two of you are paying," said Gaerwn.

They both laughed. "Sorry," said Harry, giving Gaerwn an apologetic wink. "We were just revisiting our old school rivalry. We were infamous, you know."

"More house points were lost to hexing one another than thwarting the Dark Lord, I suspect," said Malfoy dryly.

Harry laughed, and Gaerwn looked confused. "I got in trouble a lot for being out after curfew and stuff, things that happened to me because of Voldemort one way or another. One year Malfoy's old house elf locked me out of the platform at King's Cross, and so Ron and I crashed his dad's flying car into the Whomping Willow."

"I thought you two would never make it up to your House, losing that many points before term even started," said Malfoy with just a little too much glee.

Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore always gave them back somehow," he said, sighing. "At least that wasn't as bad as the time I nearly got expelled because of Umbridge, or dragged into that stupid Tournament by Crouch, Jr." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but didn't quite manage, getting a sympathetic look from Malfoy and a thoughtful one from Gaerwn.

"So, you didn't really enter the Triwizard Tournament yourself?" asked Gaerwn, brows knitting. "I remember all the fuss about that the summer after, saying you were crazy and had put yourself in the Goblet and then made the whole thing up for attention."

"Turns out they were wrong," said Harry, not bothering to hide his bitterness anymore. "Though it did teach me a lot about the press."

"Ah, I had wondered why you only give interviews to that one reporter," said Gaerwn.

"You, er, follow my press?" said Harry, squirming. He was used to the idea of some people doing it, sure, but someone he'd just met and begun to feel like he was making friends with, well, it was a little surreal.

Gaerwn shrugged and looked a bit sheepish. "Best way to see if you're going to be competition, or having to defeat You Know Who a third time, or getting hitched to some beautiful witch from a far-off land."

Malfoy snorted at the last one. "Seems to me like it'd be more likely to be a handsome wizard."

Harry stuck his tongue out at Malfoy as a way to prevent himself from casting the Bat Bogey Hex or something equally childish. "I'm still deciding," said Harry defensively, arms crossed over his chest.

Gaerwn laughed at them both. "Still deciding it is, then," he said. "And we know Malfoy's a proper shirt lifter, and I like to ride either side of the broom, but I do prefer being the one to wield the bat either way."

It took a moment for Harry to puzzle out the metaphors, and then he blushed and was saved from embarrassment when Malfoy drawled, "Are you a gifted with a particularly nice broom, or just afraid to let someone else be the Beater?"

Harry snorted, and Gaerwn shrugged. "Bit of both, I expect, mostly I've never really found it all that, er, satisfying to play Keeper."

"What's a Chaser, then?" asked Harry, before he could shut himself up. He'd spent a lot of his adult life carefully not talking about sex so as to keep his own lack of experience from becoming painfully obvious, and as a result most innuendo just passed him by.

Gaerwn's eyebrows knit, and Malfoy chuckled and said, "In this situation? Snape, I should think, though perhaps he's the Seeker."

Gaerwn grinned. "Catching the Snitch always was my favourite part."

Harry coughed and Malfoy looked smugly superior. His relaxed posture shifted and suddenly became sensual and inviting, and he practically purred as he said, "You've just never played the game with the right team, obviously."

The conversation continued in that vein, Gaerwn and Malfoy growing more and more suggestive while Harry tried to keep up and not utterly humiliate himself, and mostly succeeded. At some point platters of assorted finger foods appeared in front of them and they ate as they talked, and the question of going out answered itself. The topic wandered away from sex eventually, leading all over the map both figuratively and literally as they covered Harry's work as well as Gaerwn and Malfoy's respective careers; Gaerwn let drop that he was up for the first-string spot this year, and Malfoy talked about the negotiations in place to build another Alley off of Diagon, this one a residential district to allow people to live among wizards without having to move to a place like Hogsmeade.

Harry thought this would be a brilliant idea, as the Muggles upstairs kept getting their knickers in a twist about his owl, and confusing the kneazle with a stray cat and telling him to get it fixed.

Later still, the tea and food disappeared and after-dinner drinks replaced them, crystal carafes of things Harry could hardly identify, and an array of appropriate glassware to go with them.

Malfoy examined the bottles, picking up one that held a familiar pale golden liquid. "It looks like Winky decanted your gift, perhaps we ought to try it in celebration of our new friendship?"

Harry grinned. "Sure, that'd be brilliant."

Gaerwn looked intrigued. "What'd you bring, then?"

"Illegal Egyptian honey wine, the sort made with Paradise Poppy honey," said Malfoy with a little leer.

Harry laughed. "It is not illegal, it was delivered by a Customs owl yesterday," he said. "This sort uses Prosperity Poppies. It's still magical and rare, but it won't make you any more drunk than any other strong wine."

Malfoy pouted showily. "And here I thought you liked me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I do like you. At least it isn't Flora's Fertility Flowers," he replied dryly, taking the decanter and pouring them all a generous amount. He handed them each one of the long-stemmed glasses and made a toast, "To a prosperous future, whoever it might be with."

"Prosperity," they replied, and all three of them drank. The wine was gently chilled, sweet but not cloying with just a hint of flowers that was likely just Harry's imagination, considering it took more than a few steps to get from poppies to wine. Harry hoped that their magic had survived the customs inspection; they could all use a bit of prosperity, whether the material sort or simply a bit of happiness.

"This is good," said Gaerwn appreciatively, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he took another sip.

"You're both quite welcome," said Harry, letting the lingering warmth of magic relax him just as the coolness of the wine itself refreshed, smiling languidly at his two newest friends.

"So," said Malfoy, looking like a cat in cream, "if Harry's a remarkable young man, and I'm a privilege and a joy, what are you?"

Gaerwn laughed. "Lively, attractive, and remarkable, I believe," he said, chuckling. "Apparently I ought to have brought my letter."

"Have you written back yet?" asked Harry curiously; that was the one thing on today's agenda he didn't want to forget, as he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

"Nope," said Gaerwn, giving Malfoy a significant glance. "Our smug friend is supposed to help me with mine, as well."

Malfoy laughed. "Yes, of course, I took the initiative and bought three sets of the stationery for candidates, so we can get started whenever you like."

Harry grinned shyly. "Now would be good," he said, taking another sip of his wine. "I'd better do it before I get too drunk, my handwriting's appalling enough as it is."

The array of alcoholic drinks vanished, replaced by a silver salver containing quills, ink, sealing wax in several colours, a wooden box, several rolls of parchment and a small pile of note cards. Harry laughed, delighted; he wasn't home enough to even consider a house elf of his own, but he'd been pleased when Hermione told him that Winky had latched onto the Malfoy household and was doing well under her new master.

Malfoy summoned a book from his desk and opened it to a ribbon-marked spot, then handed it to Gaerwn. "That's the form we're to follow, we'll do mine first, then yours, and then Potter's, as his is bound to be the most difficult."

"Why mine?" asked Harry, curious.

"Mine can be fairly informal, as I've known Severus for years, where Gaerwn knows so little of Severus that he can pretty much follow the form with only a few personal touches. You've got that history that's got to be considered," explained Malfoy, picking up one of the heavy cards and a quill.

"Good thinking," said Gaerwn, handing Harry the book.

Harry looked at the page, but it didn't make much sense to him since the whole thing was in a sort of shorthand that assumed the reader was familiar with the conventions of formal writing. "You'll have to explain it to me," said Harry, tired of always being the dunce.

Malfoy actually looked a bit sympathetic, which made Harry feel worse, if anything. "I'll read mine out loud, and you follow along," he said, "I have most of it in my head anyway."

Harry sighed and nodded, and Malfoy began, writing first and then reading aloud.

"So, that's greeting, thanks, acceptance, closure?" asked Harry, figuring out that the random-seeming table of lists was actually a set of possible forms.

"Right. Since I've known Severus for so many years, and been friends, I can skip the compliment and personal remark," said Malfoy, doing the spell to dry the ink. He handed Gaerwn the quill and another note card and said, "Read yours as you write as well, so I can correct it, and Harry can hear the long form."

"Sure," said Gaerwn amiably, "Book?"

Harry handed it off, and Gaerwn set it floating in front of him so he could refer to it as he wrote. "You know the opening and closing, though I'll say Dear Mr. Snape, and Sincerely instead of Yours truly," he said, scribbling something on the card as he spoke.

"All right," said Harry, biting his lip. "So, er, what next?"

"'Thank you for considering me as a candidate in your Petitioner's Courtship'," read Gaerwn, pausing to write a little more. "'You're a very compelling man with a fascinating history and a good heart.' Er, that's the compliment, obviously."

"Obviously," said Harry, suppressing the urge to giggle like Frannie. "So next you'll say something personal?"

"Right, it'll be something that explains why I'm considering him at all," said Gaerwn, stopping to think, quill scratching when he finally decided. "Pretty much told him I'm tired of being second string, and have been thinking of settling down," he said with a little blush.

"All right," said Harry, willing to let it go at that. "Then you say that you're accepting and looking forward to his invitation and Bob's your uncle?"

"It's a Muggle thing," explained Malfoy, when Gaerwn looked confused. "He means, and then it's all done."

"Oh, right. Was wondering who Bob was," he said, writing out the last few lines and signing it. "Er, d'you need to see it?" he asked Malfoy.

Malfoy shook his head. "You've got the gist, I'm sure it's fine."

Harry sighed. "So it's me, then," he said, downing the last of his wine. "Why don't you write the draft out on parchment, and I can copy the final onto the card?"

Malfoy smiled. "See? Smarter than he looks, our Harry," he said, taking up one of the small rolls. "So you'll want to start with Dear Severus, just like I did, because you've known him since you were eleven and he called you Harry in his letter."

"Right. And then I thank him for considering me, so, something like, 'I was surprised to get your invitation, but I'm quite glad you thought of me, and happier that I accepted. It was very good to see you again'," he paused. "Um, then a compliment?"

"And I think we should make it pleasantly surprised, and... hm," he said, erasing and rewriting a bit. "Anyway, the start of that second sentence leads well into a compliment."

"Well, Gaerwn already stole compelling, so maybe something about how much better he looks nowadays? Or is that too much like insulting who he used to be?" asked Harry, biting his lip. He didn't think they'd get through the whole courtship without at least touching on their less than pleasant past, and Snape had made a sort of reference to it in his letter, anyway.

Malfoy looked thoughtful. "Perhaps something about how good it was to see him smile, free from the cares of the past?"

"Ooh, I like that," said Gaerwn, grinning. "I heard those two practically hated each other back in the day."

"You are way too interested in my life," said Harry darkly, trying not to be amused.

"Anyway," said Malfoy, interrupting before Gaerwn could bring any defence to bear, "Next you need to say something personal, something that would explain why you've stuck around and hints at the fact that you're not just doing this on a lark," said Malfoy, shooting them both a quelling look.

"Yes, Master Malfoy," said Harry teasingly, sitting back. "Damn, and I have to tell you, because otherwise I might bollix it up." He tried to think, but something personal enough to fulfil the requirement yet public enough he didn't mind discussing it with Malfoy and Gaerwn wasn't coming to mind.

"Well, let's skip to the end, and then you can think awhile longer," said Malfoy, his face carefully neutral.

"Am I allowed to cheat here and just say I'm looking forward to his invitation, and terribly curious about what he'll come up with next?" asked Harry, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Yes, that will do perfectly," said Malfoy, writing down something that Harry had a feeling would be a hundred times more suave than what Harry had come up with. Which was, of course, the point of having Malfoy help him.

"Why are you considering him, anyway?" asked Gaerwn, with the air of someone who's been dying to ask and had considered it too nosy a question up until now.

Harry sighed. "I don't know, I guess... I guess it's because I'm tired of running from my life and I want to start living it, and Severus would be someone to share it with that understands the bad old days and that sometimes I'm still living in them, and sometimes I just want to hex everyone to get them to leave me alone, and sometimes... well, that's enough, isn't it?" he said, unwilling to explain the loneliness that had always come hand in hand with being Harry Potter, and how sharply he understood Snape's desire to have a real family of his own.

"That's enough," said Malfoy quietly. He wrote something else on the parchment and handed it to Harry, who read it to himself and had to agree that it was much better than what he'd have written, but said pretty much what he wanted to say. "Here, let me change this one thing," he said, taking the quill and erasing 'marry' and changing it to 'have a family with'. He rather thought Snape would understand and appreciate the distinction.

"Here you go," said Malfoy, handing Harry the last of the cards.

Harry checked the front just in case, finding not the Slytherin or Malfoy crests but a simple design of two crossed wands, gold sparks coruscating from the ends of them. "Thanks," he said, setting up much as Gaerwn had with the scroll floating in front of him and copying out Malfoy's neat handwriting into his own messy scrawl.

They put them in the envelopes and Malfoy took a heavy gold seal out of the box to seal his up with green wax, while Gaerwn borrowed the blue wax and sealed his with a silver Sickle. "I'll do mine at home, I've got that stupid seal," said Harry, embarrassed that he hadn't thought to bring the thing. It had magic laced through it, a gift from the Ministry to assure that all correspondence on certain issues came from him and could only be opened by the intended recipient. Now that he was done giving testimony, he mostly used it to send letters to Ron and Hermione, but it would do for this as well.

"And if you marry Severus, your children will have it as well," said Malfoy, not quite teasingly enough. That gave Harry pause, the idea that he'd have not only kids but things to pass on to them besides bad hair and worse eyesight.

"Yeah, I suppose so," he said, sitting back and folding the parchment into a tiny, messy little packet. It went into his pocket along with both letters. "Well, no use thinking of that for a bit yet," he said, smiling in an attempt to change the subject. "I don't even know that Severus is really considering me, no matter what the letter says. He could just be keeping me on until the numbers dwindle a bit."

"Somehow," said Gaerwn, finishing his own wine and giving Harry a considering look, "I sincerely doubt that."