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Harry was not a big fan of parties.
In fact, Harry downright hated parties because he hated all of the unwanted attention. The only way Hermione had convinced him to come to this one was by telling him that it was a masquerade gala that supported orphans from the war and which allowed him to remain anonymous.
After all, who would expect Harry Potter to arrive in a pirate costume with skintight breeches, a billowy white shirt that exposed his chest (and the fake anchor tattoo), and thigh high boots? The black mask that covered much of his face and the pirate hat with a huge, gaudy feather helped, too.
He’d happily avoided anyone and everyone on his way to the snack table and had just stuffed a tiny, flaky, savory pastry in his mouth when he looked up to the top of the staircase that led into the room and promptly choked. There, standing at the top and looking down at all of them, was a literal angel.
The man had gorgeous white and gold wings magically attached to his back, Harry’s fingers twitched as though reaching for the soft feathers as they fluttered in the breeze drifting through the open door behind him. Gold sandals graced his feet, and golden straps wrapped up his legs, stopping mid thigh. Silky white fabric was artfully draped around his hips, protecting his modesty, but only just. He wore a golden corset with a delicate structure that emphasized the narrowness of his waist and the broadness of his bare shoulders. Gold was dusted lightly across his skin, making him shine even more radiantly. His mask was also gold, hiding everything but his sharp chin, strong jawline, and his lovely lips. To finish everything off, a golden laurel wreath graced his pink hair.
He was gorgeous, ethereal. And Harry’s gut told him that he had to meet him. His gut was hardly ever wrong.
Without stopping to think, Harry set off toward the other man, but was beat to him by a man dressed in a muggle constable uniform. As Harry approached, he heard the constable berating the angel and he felt his metaphorical hackles rise.
“Oy!” he said as the constable shoved the man’s shoulder. “Back off. What’s the matter with you?”
The constable spluttered at him and placed his hands on his hips in indignation. “Well I don’t think a costume like that is appropriate.”
And suddenly, Harry recognized that voice, recognized posture and his puffed out chest. “Well, first, Auror Hibbards,” he said, “It’s not your place to enforce a dress code. And second, I don’t think the business you conduct with your secretary after hours is appropriate but no one’s confronted you or your wife about that. Perhaps you’d like me to go and have a conversation with her about what I find inappropriate?”
He followed the other man’s panicked gaze across the room to two women who were standing together talking, and tried to remember what Laura Hibbards had looked like when he’d met her a few years ago.
“She’s the one in the striking medi-nurse costume isn’t she?” he asked. “Laura, right?”
Hibbards took a step back and his arms fell to his sides, “Who are you?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Harry replied. “You mind your business and I’ll mind mine.”
Without another word Hibbards turned and fled across the room.
He turned to look at the angel standing next to him, “Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” the man replied, voice warm and a smile tugging at his lips. “I daresay you arrived in the wrong costume.”
Harry looked down at his pirate apparel. “Sorry?” he asked, looking up at him.
“I think you ought to have come as a knight dressed in shining armor,” he teased.
“Hardly,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.
The other man’s eyes traveled up and down Harry’s body, “So, let me guess, you’re an auror? I would say that maybe you just work in the auror department but it was clever of you to get him to look at his wife so you could deduce who she was.”
“Clever, hmm?” Harry teased. “I wouldn’t go that far, but you’re not entirely wrong. I’ve recently left the Ministry and I was an auror.”
“What made you leave?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Harry lifted one shoulder, “I got fed up with the bullshit and the hypocrisy; I felt like I was slowly becoming someone I didn’t want to be, so I left.”
“And what do you do now?”
He laughed, “Do you want the truth?’
"Always.”
“I work part time at a muggle coffee shop,” he replied.
“Ah, so you’re independently wealthy then.”
Harry shook his head, “And you said I’m the clever one. What do you do?”
“I’m a solicitor,” he replied.
He laughed, “So you really didn’t need my help dealing with Hibbards then. I’m sure you could have talked circles around him.”
“No, I probably didn’t,” he conceded. “But it was nice, just the same. A man who spends all of his time fighting on behalf of others appreciates someone fighting on his behalf every so often.”
Harry smiled, “Are you here with anyone?” he asked, “Or can I get you a drink?”
“A drink would be great,” the angel replied.
—————-
Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a night as much as he had this one. His angel was quick-witted with a dry sense of humor, he was smart and sexy, and Harry genuinely enjoyed his company. They’d danced, and talked, and enjoyed the food and drinks available; and Harry found himself wishing that the night would never end.
When the clock stuck eleven, surprising both of them, they looked around to see that many people had already left. “Salazar, is that the time?”
Harry nodded, “Seems to be.”
“I’ve an early morning tomorrow,” the angel told him, “As much as I’ve enjoyed this, I should probably be on my way.”
“Can I see you again?” Harry blurted.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” the other man replied slowly. “This was meant to be a bit like Cinderella at the ball for me.”
“Are you going to leave me your sandal, then? Expect me to come and find you?” Harry teased, really hoping that the other man would give in or at least give him something to go on. He was good a puzzles, good at pulling at loose ends until he’d unraveled the mystery.
“No, no, nothing like that,” he said quickly. “I just wanted one night where I didn’t have to be me. One night that I didn’t have to walk around with my face and all of the baggage that goes along with it. This was never meant to be more than that.”
“I hear you,” Harry said, emphatically, “I really do. I find it difficult,” he confessed, “connecting with people. People can’t seem to see past their preconceived notions of who I am, but you…” Harry trailed off and shrugged helplessly, “it was easy. To be with you, to talk to you. I’d really like to get to know you better.”
The angel rubbed the back of his neck, “I would like that, too,” the other man replied softly. “Truly. But once you know who I am, you’re going to change your mind.”
“But isn’t it worth to find out?” he asked, pleaded. “Even if you’re right and I never want to see you again, that’s the outcome you’ve assigned without even knowing.”
“Maybe I’d prefer for you to remember this night fondly,” the other man suggested.
“Maybe I’d prefer to have many more fond memories with you,” Harry countered.
“You were a Griffyndor weren’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” Harry replied with a grin. Then he grew serious, “Look, if you enjoyed tonight even half as much as I did, please just give it a chance. You might take one look at me and think this was a mistake, but at least we’ll know and we won’t have to spend the rest of our lives wondering what could have been.”
The angel blew out a breath and Harry fought the nerves that had risen up in his chest. “Fine,” he conceded, “but don’t say that I didn’t try to warn you.”
“Okay,” Harry said, giving him a big smile.
“Before we do this,” he said, “I want you to know that I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you for everything.”
“Stop sounding like you’re saying goodbye!” Harry protested.
The angel gave him a sad little smile, “Ready, then?”
“On the count of three?” Harry asked. When he received a nod in return, he reached up and said, “One, two, three,” as he pulled of his mask.
A slap to the face would have been less of a surprise than the person he saw standing before him.
“Potter?”
“Malfoy?” he splutted. “What? How?”
“This explains so much, actually,” Malfoy said, his mouth twisting in a displeased little grimace. “You got to come sailing in like the hero you are to rescue a damsel in distress-”
“That’s not fair,” Harry replied, still reeling. “I didn’t even know it was you.”
“No,” Malfoy agreed. “It certainly would have changed your reaction if you had.” He shook his head, “Well, this has been fun. I do so love being proven right.”
“It’s still better to know that this was not worth losing sleep over, don’t you think?” Harry replied.
“Right,” Malfoy clipped. “I’m off. The pirate costume seems a bit like false advertising, by the way,” he said as he started to walk away without a backward glance.
“What?” Harry asked incredulously, “And the angel costume wasn’t false advertising?”
“It’s a Victoria’s Secret Costume, Potter. Honestly.”
Before Harry could make sense of that statement, Malfoy was up the stairs and out of the door, leaving Harry staring after him with a mixture of irritation, and confusion, and oddly a bit of attraction.
“Oh, Mr. Potter!” a voice called from beside him, “How lovely to see you!”
Harry turned to see Laura Hibbards standing next to him. “Your husband is cheating on you,” Harry informed her.
“Excuse me?” she asked, her right hand fluttering up to cover her heart.
“With his secretary. I should have said something a long time ago, I’m sorry,” he added, because he was. No one deserved to be cheated on.
Then he walked away, leaving her floundering, and headed out the same door Malfoy had moments before.
When he got outside he looked around, hoping to see wings or a flash of pink hair, but the road was empty. Was he really lonely and desperate enough that he was thinking that he and Malfoy might be a good fit?
Harry gave it up, he didn’t even know what he would have said if he had seen him. It wasn’t worth losing sleep over, he reminded himself before appartating home.
Whiskers was waiting for him when he arrived and he scooped her up and nuzzled his nose into her fluffy white fur. “You love me, don’t you?” he asked her. Her sweet, little meow confirmed it and he kissed her head before going in to get ready for bed. It wasn’t worth losing sleep over he reminded himself again.
————
Harry had, in fact, lost quite a bit of sleep. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, grumbling to himself, and hating himself every time his mind replayed a part of the evening and butterflies took flight in his stomach.
By the time the sun was illuminating the sky, turning it bright pinks and reds, Harry only knew one thing: he couldn’t get Malfoy out of his head.
He got out of bed and he started to do some digging on the other man. It took half the morning but he discovered Malfoy had made a bit of a name for himself. He worked for a wizarding law firm and he’d made a habit of only taking clients who were desperately in need of help that they couldn’t afford. Harry had a hard time learning anything else about his personal life, it seemed like he didn’t really have one, but it didn’t take long for him to find an address.
From there, the planning was a bit shoddy. Harry hadn’t ever really been good at making plans and sticking to them so he just showed up outside of Draco’s office at 5:00pm and waited.
And waited.
And then he waited some more. He waited until 6:30, wondering if he’d missed the other man somehow and as he was about to leave and return tomorrow, the door opened and out stepped Malfoy. His hair was blonde and he was wearing a well-tailored suit but he looked just as breathtaking as he had the night before.
He froze when he caught sight of Harry, looking stricken for just a moment before smoothing his features. “What are you doing here?”
Harry opened his mouth, “I’m sorry.” They weren’t quite the words he was meaning to say but it was too late to take them back now.
“Whatever for?”
“I had a brilliant time with you last night,” Harry said.
Malfoy rolled his eyes, “Right up until you realized it was me.”
“That’s what I’m sorry for,” Harry said. “Malfoy,” he started, then he changed tracks, “Draco, you made me feel like I was just a person. Just a guy flirting with another person, enjoying life, free of all expectations.”
“Yes, we established that last night,” he replied as he stepped down the stairs and stood on the pavement in front of Harry. “That was the point of the masks and the costumes.”
“Right, but I don’t think it was just the masks and costumes. The person I was last night,” he licked his lower lip but forced himself to continue, “That’s who I really am. Without the weight of being Harry Potter. And I would be willing to bet my vault at Gringotts that the person you were last night is who you really are without the weight of being Draco Malfoy.”
“Can you afford to bet your vault at Gringotts?” he asked. “Aren’t you a barista? What if you’re wrong?”
“Shut up,” Harry said, “I’m trying to say something profound here.”
“Apologies,” Malfoy said, taking one step closer to him as his mouth tilted up at the corner.
“When who we both really are seems to be so compatible, doesn’t it seem silly to throw that away on a childhood rivalry?”
“What exactly are you proposing?”
Harry took a breath, “Dinner? Or coffee if dinner is too much. I’d like the chance to get to know you better.”
“You would?” Draco asked softly, looking open and vulnerable, and Harry’s heart expanded in his chest until he couldn’t breathe properly.
“I really would,” he said, reaching out to take Draco’s hand.
“Alright. Dinner,” he agreed. “But don’t blame me if this doesn’t work out.”
Harry grinned at him, “Feel free to blame me when it does.”