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“Hey, Draco?” Harry called as he came barging through the door into the flat, a bundle of energy and light that Draco orbited around.
“Kitchen,” Draco called back, rolling his eyes as he watched the idiot trip over the umbrella stand for what must be the thousandth time by this point. He was so hopelessly in love with the other man that he found it endearing rather than irritating, he was clearly losing his damn mind.
“Hey,” Harry said, leaning on the island across from Draco with a breathless smile that exposed his dimples, and Draco fell and fell and fell. And he let himself (as if he had a choice) even though the landing was always brutal and would probably kill him one of these days.
He smiled back because he couldn’t help it. “Hi yourself.”
“Could you help me with something?”
“Depends,” Draco replied, even though that wasn’t true, Harry could ask for his left arm and he’d just chop it off and hand it over, “What do you need help with?”
“There’s this guy I really like,” Harry started.
Ah. There it was, the perpetually brutal landing when Draco was reminded that this was entirely one sided.
Harry continued, oblivious as ever to Draco slowly dying inside, “And I really want to impress him.”
“Well it’s good job you’re the savior of the world then, isn’t it?”
Harry shrugged one shoulder, “He doesn’t really care about that,” he said. “It’s one of the things I like about him, he treats me like I’m just another person.”
I treat you like you’re just another person Draco wanted to insist.
“So, could you help me plan the perfect date for him?”
Draco sighed but he nodded, he could never deny the other man anything, even if it meant denying himself.
————
The next day, Draco helped Harry pick a perfect restaurant; find a small, tasteful bouquet; style his hair; and then he took him shopping.
“Potter,” he groaned outside of the curtain, “hurry up. You do know how to put on trousers don’t you?”
“Normal trousers, yes,” the other man called back. “These trousers are just…” he trailed off and Draco couldn’t help smirking. “They’re so tight!”
“Your arse is arguably one of your best features,” he replied teasingly, but in all honesty Harry did have a fantastic arse. “Witch Weekly points it out regularly,” he added.
There was a long pause, then “Don’t laugh, okay?” Harry called through the curtain and Draco realized he was actually nervous that Draco would make fun of him.
“Why would I laugh?” he asked. “I picked everything and I know your body better than you do. Come on,” he encouraged.
A moment later Harry emerged wearing a pair of coal grey trousers and a matching waistcoat over a purple button-up. His throat went dry at the back and Draco couldn’t quite get his mouth working.
“What do you think?” Harry asked, scratching the back of his neck uncertainly.
“The shirt’s too dark,” he managed, “But the rest…” he trailed off. “The rest is very nice.”
Harry looked up and smiled at him, “You think so?”
He nodded, “I do.” He tore his eyes away, “I’m going to find you a different shirt, don’t move.” Draco left the other man standing by the dressing rooms and made his way around the store until he found a very pale pink shirt. It was perfect, a nice contrast to the dark grey and it would compliment his dark skin and bring out the warm, bronze tones.
Harry accepted it with nary a word and went in to put it on. Draco was speechless when he came out, he was a vision, the top two buttons on his shirt undone. And oh, what Draco wouldn’t have given to be allowed to press Harry back against the wall, to lean in and lick at his suprasternal notch, to nibble the bit of expose collarbone.
He forced his eyes to move, to take in more of the other man’s appearance. Harry had rolled up the sleeves on this shirt and left his forearms exposed, Draco’s fingers itched to rub over that corded muscle. He was in so much trouble.
“Do you like it?” Harry asked uncertainly. “Do you think it’s too much?”
“No,” he managed, “It’s perfect. You look perfect. He'll want to eat you with a spoon.” Where had that come from? he shook his head, trying desperately to clear it.
Harry gave him a little smile, “Right, so that’s the restaurant, the flowers, and my hair and outfit. That just leaves convincing him to give me a shot.”
“Yeah,” Draco said, smiling at the other man and trying to make it reach his eyes.
“So,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, “what do you say?”
“Oh,” Draco said, “Well, I’m sure that anything you have to say to him will be the right thing. Just be sincere,” he said with a shrug.
“No,” Harry said, shaking his head and taking a step forward, “you’re misunderstanding. What do you say to dinner?” he asked as he reached out to take Draco’s hand, “With me tonight?”
Draco stared at him, “Sorry, what?”
“Right,” Harry said, dropping Draco’s hand like it burned him, “Sorry, this was stupid. Forget I said anything,” he added, trying to flee to the dressing room.
“Potter,” he said, yanking back the curtain, “you can’t just ask a person something like that and then run away.”
Harry was sitting on the little bench in the corner, body hunched in on itself.
“Were you serious?” Draco asked, taking a hesitant step closer.
Harry nodded without looking up.
“But why?” he asked, completely befuddled, “Why me?”
The other man looked up at him then, “Draco, you are my best friend. You make me laugh all the time, you’re always there to make me feel better when I’m upset, and you don’t see me as ‘Harry Potter’. You’re smart, and handsome, and kind. And there’s nothing I like better than spending time with you, even when we’re doing boring housework together; time spent with you is always time well spent.”
“I’m…” Draco started, unsure how to finish, he’d never let himself actually imagine that Harry might feel this way.
“Just,” Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before standing up, “forget it, okay?” he edged past Draco. “You don’t feel the same and I-”
In a fit of bravery that was quite unbefitting of a Slytherin, Draco closed the gap between the two of them, fisting his hands in the waist coat and pressing Harry against the wall, as his lips descended.
Harry let out a surprised hum but immediately wrapped his hands around Draco’s waist pulling him closer and kissing him back for a long moment.
It would never have been long enough, but when Harry pulled back from the kiss, Draco whimpered and chased his mouth with his own.
“Draco,” Harry gasped, “Mmm,” he melted against him for a moment and Draco’s blood sang with victory. “Merlin,” Harry managed, “Draco, we can’t just keep making out in the store.”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages,” Draco said, nipping lightly at his jaw and reveling in Harry’s gasps.
“Me, too,” Harry breathed, drawing back so he could look at Draco properly. “So, is that a yes to dinner?”
“That’s a yes to dinner. ” Draco confirmed with a laugh. “And dessert, and even going back to yours for coffee after if you’d like,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows.
Harry laughed and cupped Draco’s cheek in his palm, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone, “I really like you,” he murmured, like a confession.
“I really like you, too,” Draco replied, giddy with a joy that he hadn’t ever expected to feel. “I can’t believe that I planned my own date with you without even knowing.”
Harry laughed, “I was rather hoping that I was being obvious but…” he shrugged.
“I’m a little in shock,” he confessed.
The other man brushed his nose against Draco’s, “What do you say we go pay for these clothes and then maybe you could come back to mine for coffee before dinner?”
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” he replied with a smile that mirrored Harry’s.
It turned out that Harry’s outfit looked just as good on the floor as it did on him and they ended up missing their dinner reservation entirely. But the Chinese take away they’d ordered and eaten together in bed was the best meal Draco had ever had.