Work Text:
Lucius Malfoy was hovering in the doorway to Harry’s office. This had been a strangely regular occurrence over the last two weeks. Malfoy would appear unannounced at odd times during the day, always with queries that Harry thought could’ve been easily answered if the man paid better attention during all the Ministry meetings that he insisted on attending. He speculated yet again as to how this man had managed to remain a respected member of society when all his acquaintances were gradually securing permanent living quarters in Azkaban or snogging Dementors
“May I come in?”
Lucius was particularly early this morning. Harry slumped, knowing that the outcome was inevitable. “If I said no, would you actually go away?”
“Unlikely.”
“Then, yes. Please come in.” Harry smiled with obviously false pleasantry. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I hope so,” Malfoy drawled, but offered no further explanation.
“What do you want?”
Malfoy eased regally into the chair on his side of Harry’s desk. “My question is of a… delicate nature.”
“Delicate?”
“A great deal depends on the response.”
“So, what is it?”
“I suspect that my son is contemplating the initiation of a project that I do not see in his future.”
“Well, clairvoyance can be tricky,” chirped Harry, debating about the relevance of any of Draco’s ‘ventures’. “I’m sort of busy here, so if you wanted to get to the point…?” he encouraged, bowing his head to his parchment.
“Which restaurant would you like to accompany me to this evening?”
Harry’s carefully crafted scroll was ruined by the compulsive twitch that his writing hand had unexpectedly developed. He peered over the top of his glasses at the anomaly which had landed in his office. “Huh?”
“Restaurant, Potter. Exquisite dining.”
Shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose to better focus and determine if his visitor was definitely who he thought it was, Harry squinted. “I’m… busy tonight.”
The confidence didn’t falter. “Tomorrow, then.”
“I might be… busy for a long time.”
“At first, maybe. But I am confident that an opening will present itself in your schedule before long,” Lucius declared in his finest tones before abruptly rising and sweeping back out into the corridor.
Confused, Harry chalked it up to a probably long developed drinking problem in the Malfoy household, before tapping wand to parchment to rectify the mess and beginning again to write, enjoying the silence.
But the silence wasn’t destined to last very long. He hadn’t managed to increase productivity by a great extent before his habitual morning visitor strolled in.
“Good morning.” Draco Malfoy was looking strangely chipper.
“Hey,” Harry absently acknowledged. This man seemed to be spending less and less time in his own office.
“I brought you a coffee.”
And a doughnut, Harry noted. “Is that for me?”
“Yes.” Very suspiciously chipper.
“Since when do you buy doughnuts, let alone ones smothered in cheery coloured sprinkles?”
“You seem to enjoy these forms of unappetising fare,” Draco shrugged.
Giving into his sudden craving for doughy products, Harry tucked in. “Yeah. They’re great, you should try them,” he slurred through a mouthful, the sugar helping to shake off uneasiness caused by the earlier peculiarity.
Draco slid onto the couch in the far corner (a piece of furniture previously reserved for company that Harry actually wanted, but one that had become Draco’s usual resting place since they’d started to work together, a few months past), to sample his own coffee. “I think I’ll give it a miss. But I thought I’d pick one up for you, since I was in there, anyway.”
“Thanks.” Harry paused, mid-munch. “It’s a bit odd though that you're going out of your way to buy food for me, Malfoy.”
“If you don’t want it…”
“No, it’s good.” But it was extremely unlike Draco to be that thoughtful. Something very weird was going on here. And he’d just noticed that there was another article on his desk that hadn’t been there before. “What’s that?”
“Now, I presumed you’d be able to work that one out by yourself,” Draco sneered. “It’s the Prophet.”
“You brought me a paper?”
“I thought you might like to have a quiet read before we start, since we’ve not got much work to do on the case this morning.”
“How… considerate.” But now that he thought about it, Draco had been bringing him a lot of unrequested items recently. And all things that Harry really liked. There was he recalled, the huge slice of chocolate fudge cake and his personal favourite, the meatball sandwich, amongst many others. But figuring out the Malfoy family’s behaviour was going to need to wait. “You know, I do actually have work to be getting on with.”
“See you later, then.”
Draco scooped up his caffeine and followed in his father’s footsteps to the exit.
------
A few thankfully uneventful days later (if Malfoy junior’s now thrice daily stopovers didn’t count), Harry stood in his office, searching the long shelves along one wall for the text he needed. But what he really needed was a better filing system. It was impossible to find anything quickly amongst the current structure, which basically consisted of hastily shoving books and files into the nearest random gap. The day was getting late and he was considering abandoning the search until morning.
“I see that you have finally procured some new robes.”
That statement was so out of place that Harry whipped his head around in amazed confusion. “What?”
“Your robes. Very fine workmanship.”
“They’re practical, I suppose,” Harry replied, slightly perturbed that Lucius was keeping track of his wardrobe.
There was a very strange look on those disdainful features. In fact, there was a distinct lack of disdain in that evaluating stare. And it would’ve helped Harry’s sense of personal space if the gaze was directed a little… higher. Was Malfoy senior checking him out?? No, it didn’t seem possible. So, that meant it wasn’t true. Despite the restaurant invitation. Or at least, so Harry currently chose to believe. It seemed safer that way. Yes, definitely safer.
But Harry was certainly being scrutinised over something. Maybe it was something he’d done. Apprehending all of Malfoy’s drinking buddies was likely not going down very well. Shifting his concentration back to the location of the file, he moved slowly along the shelves towards the corner. It was a long time since he’d needed this text, so it was probably buried in the ones at that end.
“Have you procured an empty slot in your schedule?”
“Uhh… no,” Harry replied, trying not to appear overly hospitable. “Gonna be busy for a while yet. Maybe forever.”
“That’s a pity.”
“Isn’t it?” he quipped, scanning the titles, amazed that a man of supposed intellect couldn’t take a hint.
Harry detected a looming presence behind him seconds before he felt an unexpected pressure on his body. He had instinctually gripped his wand before the realisation of what that pressure was caused the wood to clatter to the floor. There was a hand resting on Harry’s left buttock. Hedged into the corner, he wanted to stoop for his wand but didn’t care for the angle that would present to Lucius. Through his shock, a reasoning part of his consciousness suggested that maybe it was an accident… although he was having difficulty thinking of a way that it could’ve come about unintentionally.
“Err… Mr Malfoy?”
“Yes?”
“Did you realise that… of course you did, but I -”
“Did I realise what?”
“That your hand appears to have… strayed.”
“I assure you that all of my appendages are completely within my control,” a seductive rumble breathed into his ear.
That’s what Harry was afraid of.
“Do you think that you could exercise some of that control, and remove it?”
“I do not envision that act being beneficial to my intentions.”
“You don’t?” And though he knew that he was going to regret this question, stuttered out anyway, “What exactly… are your intentions?”
“To enable you to appreciate quality over recent youthful, though no doubt exuberant, groping.”
“Why would you care how much exuberant, youthful groping I appreciate?” The fingers tracing the seam of his trousers through the fabric of his robe weren’t helping to improve his clarity of mind.
“You should experience all options before settling for something… substandard. Therefore, I am providing an alternative.”
“Maybe I’m not looking for an alternative.”
“Then you should cease that alluring rocking. I can sense that opening presenting itself, becoming more accessible.” Freezing the motion of his hips immediately in horror, Harry vowed never, ever to do that again. He hadn’t even realised that he was doing it at all. But the promise became harder to keep when a snake-headed cane snuck around to nuzzle at his groin.
This was appalling. He should be hexing the bastard, not closing his eyes in awe at the sensations caused by hard, cool metal.
“N - no opening is about to present itself,” was all that Harry could stammer as the snake caressed.
“We shall see. But your whereabouts on the evening prior to this have piqued my curiosity.”
That was hardly pertinent to Harry’s predicament. “I was with Draco.”
“I am aware of that. You have been spending an abundance of time in his company over recent months.”
“We were discussing a case. It is our job…” Harry leaned backwards, only to be pushed resolutely forward.
“And therefore, it is… insignificant?”
“Something seems to be significant enough for you to be pinning me to a bookcase.”
“Ah… and you find this position displeasing?”
“Ahhh,” Harry replied in turn, as the cane stroked.
“Perhaps this position will be more to your taste,” Lucius drawled, steering him around by the shoulders.
Too stunned to really put up much of a fight, his eyes widened as the face neared. The edges of unyielding shelves dug into Harry’s back and nails into his shoulders as Lucius paused a tongue’s lick away, sniffing deeply, almost as if he were savouring a particularly aromatic vintage. Harry wasn’t aware that his mouth had fallen open in shock until it was filled by the kiss. Submitting to blind panic, he whipped his head back, grappling for purchase on Malfoy’s robes to push him off. The sudden violent action caused him to lose his footing, and though his hands sought something to stop the descent, he fell, landing heavily on his arse and dragging several volumes down to the floor to join him.
A slightly irritated Lucius regarded him from above. “Is there a problem?”
“Problem?” Harry wheezed. “Get the fuck out of my office!”
“Very well. I would not wish to outstay my welcome. Have an industrious day. I shall make the relevant reservations and inform you of the time and place.”
“Don’t inform me of anything,” Harry screeched as Lucius left the office. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”
Harry didn’t understand what the hell was going on. There were plenty of other (probably more willing) people who the man could maul. Reviewing both how much his body hurt from the fall and how disgustingly eager his penis had been, Harry remained where he was, gathering calmness. He was still determinedly trying to fathom the cause of the latter problem when a shadow dimmed the light around him.
“Comfy?” asked Draco.
“Oh, bloody hell.” What was this, a Malfoy tag team?
“That’s a lovely greeting.” Draco held a foil-covered plate in both hands as he peered down. “What’re you doing down there?”
“I fell.”
“Need a hand?”
“No.” Sarcasm dripped from his next question, “is there a reason why you're in here, Malfoy?”
Draco scrunched up his nose at the hostility. “Not especially.”
“Just come in to annoy me, did you?”
“Not annoy, exactly.”
“What’ve you been saying to your father?” Harry groaned, pulling himself up, ignoring both the hand which was held out in assistance and the pain his back.
“Nothing. Why?”
“Because he… oh, never mind. What’s under the foil?” He winced, cricking his spine straight.
“Steak and chips.”
The last vertebrae clicked into place with his splutter. “Chips?”
“Yes, with ketchup.”
Harry couldn’t help it; he burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. It was either that or run away.
“W – why did you think that I’d want that?”
“It’s late, and as I observed that you hadn’t yet left the office, I gathered that you hadn’t eaten. Or is an exquisite piece of meat wasted on you?”
Oh, god. The remaining members of the proud Malfoy family had degenerated into a couple of stalkers. Paranoia seemed a natural reaction to the absurd events, so Harry welcomed the feeling, employing it to quash the mirth. “Are… you watching me? Did you see him leave? Is that why you're here?”
“See who leave?”
“Your psychotic parent.”
“Is my father psychotic?” murmured Draco, fiddling with an edge of foil. “Hmm… he might be. Would explain a lot.”
“I’m beginning to think that it’s a family trait. Why do you keep pestering me?”
“I only brought you dinner,” Draco pouted, looking almost… upset as he walked across the office. This was getting more peculiar by the minute. The eldest Malfoy planned to take him out to dine, and the youngest kept bringing him food? Either he was looking in severe need of fattening up, or the universe was tilting dangerously out of control.
After setting a temptingly fragrant plate down on the desk, Draco turned, sleek blond hair glinting under the bright lights Harry had installed in his office. Wait… glinting? Maybe the root of the problem lay in hallucinations brought on by stress. But then, he reasoned that he wouldn’t be stressed if two certain people would find some other pet project to amuse them.
“Come here,” urged Draco.
“I don’t think so.”
Draco gestured to the plate. “It’s getting cold, Potter.” It did smell delicious… Harry limped over to the source of the smell. “Are you suffering from some kind of injury?”
“Nope. Fine,” he lied. But one of Harry’s steadying palms skidded across the wood as he carefully sat, clattering a fork over the edge. Draco crouched to retrieve it but didn’t come back up nearly as quickly.
Long, pained moments passed before Harry expressed his latest worry. “Malfoy? Do you have some kind of bet going on with your father?”
“A bet? No. Why?”
“Because you keep bringing me food and directing these weird looks at me all day. And now you have your hand on my thigh.”
“Oh. Should I remove it?”
“Quickly,” Harry growled, though he made no move to assist. “You're as bad as your father.”
“What’s this obsession that you suddenly have with my father, Potter?”
“No obsession, believe me.”
“You keep dropping him into the conversation. Asking about him.”
“Hardly. I’m not interested in him.”
“I… hope not,” Draco said, blond head coming up to Harry’s level, moving closer…
Oh, not again. “Get off me!” Harry yelled, slightly belatedly to convey enough conviction. The hand didn’t move. Well, not off his thigh, anyway.
But Draco didn’t try to kiss him. Instead, he simply asked, “what’re you doing tonight?”
“What?” He was beginning to experience a frightening sense of déjà vu.
“Tonight. Thought I’d come ‘round to your house. We could work for a bit and then… relax.” Well, it was a better idea than a posh restaurant…
Harry shook himself right out of that line of thought. “Why?”
Fingers teased his thigh. “Because I thought you might enjoy it.”
Trying to argue with the second unwelcome proposition of the evening was made more difficult as he seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Draco’s hand moved with small motions, slowly, tenderly, encouraging interest. Such a different touch from his father, Harry thought, suddenly stricken that he was now able to make that comparison. Seeking his voice, Harry removed the contact, not caring that the back of the offending hand smacked against the edge of the desk with the force of his anger. “Go away. I wish you both would just leave me alone!”
Cradling his injured limb, Draco stood. “What did my father do?”
“He’s a ruddy letch, you both are!”
Draco’s right eye twitched as he sneered. “I wouldn’t like to distract you from doing your nightly knitting, so suit yourself.” The door shortly whooshed shut with resounding satisfaction.
Gasping for air, Harry resolved that he was going to need to start locking his office door. And possibly move home.
------
Harry was still sitting at his desk, head in hands, when the doorknob rattled.
“Go ‘way,” he whimpered, thankful that he had at least the presence of mind to lock the entrance. The addition of extra charmed Muggle deadbolts might’ve been overkill, but better to be safe than sorry.
But it was softer, female tones which drifted through the wood. “Harry, are you in there?”
“Hermione,” Harry breathed, swishing his wand. Bolts clicked and shunted back to allow his friend entry to his stronghold. The second her skirt cleared the doorway; another flick had the wood swinging back into position, locks secured.
Alarmed brown eyes looked from Harry to the door and back again.
“What’s wrong?”
“The – the Malfoys…”
Hermione approached with caution. “What about them?”
“They’re… they’ve gone insane or something.”
Leaning over the desk, she peeled his hands from their grip in his hair. “In what way, insane?” she enquired, taking a seat.
It was almost too ridiculous to admit. “Draco and Lucius… th – they keep doing stuff.”
“Stuff like what?”
“Like… groping me and inviting me to… do things!”
Hermione propped her elbows on the desk, clearly intrigued. “Does it sound nice?”
“What… do you mean?”
“Are the suggestions they’re making pleasant, or are they promising graphic torture?”
Harry rubbed at his temples. He was getting a headache. “Umm… nice, I guess. I mean, if it wasn’t them.”
“Oh, good,” she tittered quietly. “So, what’s the problem?”
“Hermione, you don’t know what they’ve been doing!”
“Then tell me.” His friend looked a little more eager than Harry thought she should.
“I’m not gonna tell you… that!”
“Hey, don’t bite my head off. I’m just not really seeing the downside. Don’t you think that they’re both… good looking?”
“No!”
“Really?” Hermione assembled that look; the one that always meant Harry had said something blatantly incorrect.
“I… they’re not ugly.”
“They’re only two of the hottest available men around here, Harry! And if they both want you, then I think you're in an advantageous position.”
“How?”
“You can take your pick. I wish that I had two gorgeous, rich blokes fighting over me,” she grumbled under her breath.
“They’re not fighting over me!”
“Sounds like it. Unless of course, the invitation was for a threesome.”
“I hope not! No, I don’t think so… they were making very individual… umm, offers,” Harry babbled.
That tittering was really starting to get on his nerves.
“I bet that they’re both annoyed that they’re infringing on each other’s turf.”
“I’m nobody’s turf. But I mean… why this – why now? Why me? Presuming that they’re not just plotting my murder using an obscure and bizarre sex-related method, they seem in an awful rush, all of a sudden.”
“Because you’ve just become available. They’re probably not the only ones who’re thinking of making a move; they’ve just been quickest off the mark, since Harry Potter is now a single man. But hasn’t Draco been around for a while now? And Lucius is here at the Ministry a lot.”
“Draco and I work together,” Harry stated flatly.
“I know, but still…”
“Yeah, but not like that. That’s… horrible.”
“Why is it horrible?”
“It’s like… the idea of people just… lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce.”
Hermione was evidently gaining a great deal of enjoyment from his plight. “They’re not guerrillas, Harry.”
“You know, this isn’t funny.”
“Yes, it is! You’ve only been apart from Allan for a couple of weeks, and you’ve already got two men drooling all over you! Just think of it as a rebound fling or something.”
“I don’t want it to be a rebound fling. Not with…” a sharp bite down on his lip prevented any further unwise confessions.
But Hermione was never that easily discouraged. “With who?” she prompted, leaning closer over the desk. Harry slid back, out of range. “You don’t want what to be a rebound fling?”
“No-one. I don’t want either of them.” He plucked up a quill, suddenly efficient. “And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Okay, I’ll let you get back to it. What did Draco do?”
“Does it matter?”
“I just wondered, because I told him that he'd need to be a bit more… forthright with you than he’s been. If he wanted you to actually notice what he was trying to do.”
“I'm sorry…” Harry gaped, sharp quill poised threateningly. “You told him WHAT?”
Hermione reared back in her seat, blushing crimson. “I – I… was only trying to help.”
“You… did this?” The quill waved sporadically as his voice rose in pitch. “Well, just… STOP it!”
She shuffled, chewing on her lip, but her eyes didn’t reflect remorse. “I will. For now, anyway.”
“Hermione,” he choked, resting his weapon flat in front of him to ease temptation, “you're scaring me.”
“Sorry, but I don’t see the harm.”
The harm was glaringly obvious. “Lucius Malfoy’s a Death Eater! And Draco’s a prissy git!”
“Since Voldemort's dead, there's probably not all that much harm Lucius can do anymore. And Draco’s not so bad.”
“Are you serious?”
Hermione clasped her fingers over her abdomen, tapping gently. “That actually depends if you are.”
“If I'm what?” This was all just… too much.
“Looking for something serious.”
“I’m not.”
“Then take just what you want from this opportunity.”
“I don’t want anything from it!” Harry bellowed, eyeing the quill.
“Don’t get yourself all worked up again. You don’t find either of them even remotely attractive?”
“Well… I guess Draco’s kind of cute,” he murmured to his lap.
“Cute? That’s a fresh description. And Lucius?”
“Is… really attractive… in a scary sort of way.”
“So, are you going to have dinner with him?”
“I’m not sure,” he pondered, “I don’t think that’s a – wait a minute. How do you know that Lucius asked me to dinner?”
“I…” The blush rose once more.
“Hermione…”
“…was just trying to…”
“Help?”
“Yeah.”
Even his friends were losing their minds. “I’ve only been out of my long-term relationship for two weeks! Why did you think that all this help was necessary?”
“Nearly three. And well, you… haven’t been happy in a long time.”
“I know.”
“So, I wanted things to get better for you… quickly.” Harry allowed a sympathetic hand to clasp his in a hesitant truce. “And when I saw that they were interested, I thought that this would be a good chance.” Heaven help him from well-meaning friends. “But maybe they are a bit persistent. Perhaps it was too soon. Are you still upset over Allan?”
“No, not really. But I think that was part of the problem. That neither of us was in… that place. We hadn’t been for a while.”
“Aren't you going to take either of them up on their offer?”
Debating, Harry mused over his newly acquired options. “I might.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Dinner first,” he sighed, steeling himself.
------
The next day dawned with a heady sense of foreboding.
Unfortunately, the exact event that Harry had been hoping to avoid occurred at precisely 1:36pm. Draco was ensconced in his usual comfy corner of the couch (after delivering cinnamon bagels and a Quidditch magazine) when a black clothed figure wielding a cane made an appearance.
Draco’s chin jutted and his eyes narrowed, never leaving his father’s figure as Lucius sauntered by.
“I have procured reservations for this evening at eight, Mr Potter. I trust that you shall be in attendance?”
Avoiding the younger man’s stare, Harry hissed in a breath and hissed out, “Okay.”
A coffee mug hit the floor with a resounding thump, splashing the mercifully scarce remnants of dark liquid over Draco’s shins. Lucius’ head tilted briefly in his son’s direction, sneering in self-satisfaction. “I thought that I had taught you to be less clumsy.”
“Yes…” Draco began, but he didn’t get far into his sentence as the elder Malfoy continued to address Harry.
“As I was about to explain, I shall arrive at your home one half hour prior to the designated time.”
“Sounds good,” Harry agreed.
Astonished grey eyes fixed on Harry. “You're… going out…”
“Draco,” Lucius cautioned.
His son disregarded the warning. “…with him?”
“Yes,” Harry managed to choke out, staunchly reminding himself why he was doing this.
Harry couldn’t decide if Draco looked more furious or devastated as he hauled himself to his feet. “But why…”
“Draco. Silence is advantageous, remember? As is a modicum of respect.”
“Yes, sir. Oh… fuck that ‘sir’ shit! You bastard, you're only doing this because I -”
“Your mother would be ashamed of your performance,” Lucius cut in, admonishing.
“Yeah, well mother isn’t here anymore is she? And whose fault is that?”
“Draco,” Harry asked, “is something wrong?”
“Wrong?” Draco blinked at his father, “why… no. Of course not.” He visibly regained his composure. “I hope you both have a wonderful time,” he sang, turning from both of them, leaving lingering silence in his wake.
Harry didn’t receive any further visits from Draco that day.
------
Dinner was an interestingly surreal experience.
His host was gracious and polite, the conversation gentle. It was a surprise to discover that Lucius' humour could be subtle, even pleasant when he tried. Harry had ventured tentatively into the evening, expecting to feel awkward at best, disgusted at worse, but as the meal progressed he found to his alarm and amazement that he was actually enjoying the company.
But that didn’t mean that he was completely comfortable about the man's colourful past. Although worried about ruining the atmosphere, Harry was more concerned about something else.
“Lucius? Why did you ask me to come here?”
“To dine.”
“Apart from that,” Harry prodded. “I mean, you could've asked anyone, why me? You don't even like me.”
“Perhaps I do.”
Nothing was ever that straightforward. “It's just… that’s hard to believe.”
“Because you don't trust me.”
“Do you blame me?”
“We all make errors in judgement.”
“That was a pretty big error,” smirked Harry.
“And therefore, will take longer to amend,” Lucius nodded, spearing a shrimp.
The evening continued in a similar vein, dialogue loosening from banter into an easy chatter, leaving no space for uncomfortable silences. But as the regally held blond escorted Harry from the restaurant, Harry’s nervousness amplified.
Arriving at his doorstep with his date in tow, Harry immediately regretted not planning his escape route in advance. But then again, did he even still want an escape route? Perplexed, he allowed himself to be steered to the shelter of the porch, where he commenced an awkward display of fidgeting.
“I have… enjoyed this evening immensely,” declared Lucius, a sentiment that Harry unexpectedly shared.
“It was fun.”
“Very pleasurable.”
Harry's heart pounded, not entirely from fear. “Thanks… for dinner.”
The lightest brush of lips over his, of fingers over cloth, preceded Lucius' reply, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to reciprocate. Malfoy pulled back. “Have I lost so soon?”
“I… don’t know.”
“Think about it, Harry. One’s life choices are simple decisions, not to be overcomplicated.”
Harry was treated to the sight of Lucius gliding along the pavement, cane swinging by his side, but there was no relief gained from the departure.
------
A restless night spent twisting in sheets and thumping pillows had done nothing to clear his mind.
The Daily Prophet was delivered to Harry's desk in subdued peace, accompanied by a large cup of dangerously black coffee.
Making his way over to his usual place, Draco perched, staring into the murky depths of his mug, looking decidedly despondent.
“'Morning,” offered Harry.
“Hi.”
“What's up?” he asked in a transparent show of casualness.
“Oh,” Draco blew on the surface of the liquid, but didn’t raise it to his lips, “nothing,”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“You seemed… upset, yesterday.”
“I don’t get upset. Over anything.”
“That’s quite a feat.” Harry smiled, placating.
“Look, I'm not an idiot.” Depositing the receptacle onto the nearby table, Draco’s chin lifted in haughtiness.
“Never said that you were.”
“Don't let my presence spoil your perfect day.” A white paper bag was hurled over in an arc, landing in front of Harry with a soft thump. “I brought you breakfast.”
“Why?”
“Do you always ask so many irritating questions?” huffed Draco, smacking his heels down on the table.
“Yes.” Harry prised open the bag. A muffin was this morning’s menu. “Do you think that I’m incapable of providing my own meals?”
“Probably. But I shouldn’t come here so much if you're…” The sentence remained unfinished, it’s meaning clear.
“It was just dinner. I never promised him another.”
“I wasn’t trying to… by… you know, before.”
Harry set his breakfast down, uneaten. “I don’t know what you were trying to do, but I didn’t like it.”
“You really didn’t.”
“Of course not, Malfoy.”
“Draco.”
“What?”
“My… name.”
“Oh. You shouldn’t listen to Hermione’s advice, Draco. Whatever it was. It didn’t help with whatever you were trying to do.”
“It wasn’t so bad. I was just that I didn’t… well, I don’t know why I thought that you’d want… to… not with…” Amused at the way the usually confident voice wavered, Harry cemented his decision. It had been obvious; really, he wondered why he’d had such a problem. “I heard that you both had a congenial evening,” Draco recovered.
“Yes, we did. Do you know what I’ve noticed about your father?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed a lot of things.”
“He’s very handsome. Very charming. Can actually even be nice, when he wants something. Could offer a good life for someone, when he’s not being an arrogant arsehole.”
“Exactly. I mean, not about the arrogance…” Draco trailed off, frowning as Harry emerged from behind the desk.
“But he doesn’t know me.”
“He’s known you for years!” Draco exclaimed, tugging feet off the table, soles slapping the floor.
Harry dropped into the space adjacent to a suddenly restless Draco. “I hate fancy restaurants. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“I just… I thought that you’d rather…”
“But do you know what I’ve finally noticed about you, Draco?” Harry asked, scooting along until their thighs met.
Draco appeared to be contemplating his own escape route. “No…”
“You don’t have as high an opinion of yourself as you lead others to believe.”
“But -”
The instant their lips met, Harry thought he’d made a mistake. Draco snapped rigid, clearly shocked, but as Harry’s tongue flicked out, he slackened with an audible sigh. All that was then required from Harry was to melt under the onslaught of Draco’s answering kiss. Tremulous at first, evolving, becoming more urgent.
Harry ended up spread along the length of the couch beneath a straddling, beaming blond. “I did try to get your attention, Potter.”
“Harry.”
“What?”
“My name. Apparently, you did. But I’ve noticed something about myself, as well.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not terribly observant.”
Embracing his new wave of determination and enlightenment, Harry wrapped his legs around the waist above him, clinging to his decision, relieved when Draco clung back just as tightly.