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Harry hated Ministry parties.
They were loud, crowded, and filled with people who wanted something from him.
A handshake.
A photograph.
A story.
By the time he escaped the ballroom and stepped onto one of the balconies overlooking London, he was already planning how quickly he could leave without seeming rude.
The cool evening air was a welcome relief.
For the first time all night, he could breathe.
"Potter."
Harry nearly jumped.
He turned and found himself staring at Draco Malfoy.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
It had been years.
Not since the occasional Ministry meeting. Not since passing each other in crowded hallways.
Certainly not like this.
Outside.
Alone.
Draco looked different.
Older.
Not old, exactly.
Just... settled.
His hair was still pale blond, though slightly longer than Harry remembered. His sharp features had softened with age, and there was a quiet confidence about him that hadn't existed when they were teenagers.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Have you forgotten how conversations work?"
Harry blinked.
"No."
"Good. I was beginning to worry."
A laugh escaped Harry before he could stop it.
Draco looked mildly pleased with himself.
"Didn't expect to find anyone else hiding out here," Harry admitted.
"Hiding?" Draco scoffed. "I prefer the term escaping."
"Right."
"These events are dreadful."
Harry found himself smiling.
"Glad we agree on something."
"Let's not make a habit of it."
The conversation should have ended there.
It would have, years ago.
But somehow neither of them moved.
Below them, London glittered beneath the evening sky.
Inside, music drifted through the open doors.
Draco leaned lightly against the railing.
"How's Auror work?"
Harry looked at him in surprise.
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Fine."
"Thrilling."
Harry laughed again.
Merlin.
When had Draco Malfoy become funny?
They talked for another ten minutes.
Nothing important.
Work.
The weather.
The Ministry.
A new coffee shop near Diagon Alley.
Normal things.
Simple things.
The sort of conversation Harry never imagined having with Draco Malfoy.
Eventually someone called Draco's name from inside.
Draco glanced over his shoulder.
"Looks like my freedom is over."
Harry nodded.
"Yeah."
For a second it felt like one of them should say something else.
Something important.
Something that would keep the conversation going beyond tonight.
Instead Draco merely offered a small nod.
"Goodnight, Potter."
"Night."
Draco disappeared through the doors.
Harry watched him go.
Then watched the doors for several seconds longer.
Only when he was alone again did the thought finally occur to him.
I should have asked him to get coffee.
Harry groaned and dropped his forehead against the balcony railing.
Too late now.
The second time Harry saw Draco Malfoy, it was raining.
Not the dramatic sort of rain that appeared in novels.
Just a steady drizzle that turned the streets of London grey and left everyone slightly irritated.
Harry had just finished a long shift.
He was tired.
Hungry.
And desperately in need of coffee.
The small café tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop was warm compared to the weather outside. The smell of coffee beans and fresh pastries filled the air.
Perfect.
Harry joined the queue.
Halfway through checking the menu, he heard a familiar voice.
"You're staring at the board as if it's written in Ancient Runes."
Harry froze.
Slowly, he turned.
Draco Malfoy was sitting by the window.
A book rested open in one hand.
A steaming mug sat beside him.
Harry blinked.
Draco smirked.
"Hello, Potter."
For some reason, Harry's stomach did a strange little flip.
"Malfoy."
"Still struggling with basic reading?"
Harry rolled his eyes.
"I was deciding."
"You always order the same thing."
Harry frowned.
"How do you know that?"
Draco looked annoyingly pleased with himself.
"I've seen you here before."
"Oh."
The answer caught Harry off guard.
Draco had noticed him?
Apparently realizing what he'd admitted, Draco quickly returned his attention to his book.
Harry stared for a second.
Then another.
Before he could stop himself, he walked over.
"Mind if I sit?"
Draco looked up.
For a moment he seemed surprised.
Then he shrugged.
"It's a free country."
Harry took that as a yes.
A few minutes later he returned with his coffee and settled into the chair opposite Draco.
The book was still open.
Harry glanced at the cover.
"A history book?"
Draco sighed dramatically.
"Please don't tell me you're going to judge me."
"I wasn't."
"You looked like you were."
"I was curious."
"That's what judgement looks like when you're famous."
Harry laughed.
Draco looked pleased again.
That was becoming a problem.
The conversation flowed much easier this time.
There was no awkwardness.
No uncertainty.
Just two people talking.
Draco told him about his work.
Harry complained about paperwork.
They argued over books.
Disagreed about films.
Agreed that Ministry meetings should be illegal.
At some point Harry realized nearly an hour had passed.
An entire hour.
It hadn't felt like it.
Outside, the rain continued tapping softly against the windows.
Inside, the café had become quieter.
Comfortable.
Harry found himself studying Draco when he wasn't looking.
The way he absentmindedly tapped his fingers against his mug.
The way his eyes lit up when discussing a book he enjoyed.
The faint smile that appeared whenever he thought Harry had said something particularly stupid.
It was strange.
Harry had spent years thinking he knew Draco Malfoy.
Turns out he'd only known the version of him that existed at Hogwarts.
This version was different.
Softer.
Happier.
Real.
Eventually Draco checked the clock.
"Damn."
"What?"
"I have somewhere to be."
Harry glanced at the time.
Right.
He probably did too.
Neither of them moved immediately.
For a brief moment Harry considered it.
Just asking.
Would you like to do this again?
Simple.
Easy.
Normal.
Instead he picked up his coat.
"See you around."
Idiot.
Draco's expression flickered briefly.
Almost disappointed.
But the moment vanished so quickly Harry couldn't be sure.
"See you around, Potter."
Harry left the café.
Made it halfway down the street.
Then stopped beneath the awning of a shop.
Rain fell around him.
People hurried past.
And Harry suddenly realized two things.
First:
He'd spent over an hour talking to Draco Malfoy.
And second:
He'd enjoyed every minute of it.
Merlin.
He really should have asked for his number.
The third time Harry saw Draco Malfoy, he knew it wasn't entirely an accident.
That was the problem.
The first encounter had been chance.
The second had been coincidence.
This?
This was something else.
Because after discovering that Draco apparently spent his weekends in the same little café, Harry had found himself returning more often than usual.
Not because of Draco.
Obviously.
He simply liked the coffee.
And the atmosphere.
And the...
"Potter."
Harry looked up from his drink.
Draco stood beside his table.
One eyebrow raised.
A familiar expression was already settling onto his face.
The one that suggested he knew exactly what Harry was thinking.
Which was impossible.
"You look guilty."
"I do not."
"You do."
Harry sighed.
Draco smiled.
Actually smiled.
Not a smirk.
Not a sneer.
A genuine smile.
It was surprisingly distracting.
"Sit down," Harry said before he could think better of it.
To his relief, Draco did.
"Skipping work?" Draco asked.
"It's Saturday."
"Oh."
A pause.
"That explains why you're dressed like that."
Harry looked down at his clothes.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you've chosen comfort over dignity."
Harry stared.
Draco took a sip of coffee.
Completely serious.
Harry burst out laughing.
Several people glanced over.
Draco looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Again.
At this point Harry was beginning to suspect that making him laugh had become some sort of personal hobby.
Their conversation stretched naturally from there.
Books.
Work.
The terrible weather.
A bizarre story from the Ministry involving an enchanted filing cabinet.
By the time they left the café together, the afternoon had nearly disappeared.
"Bookshop?" Draco asked suddenly.
Harry blinked.
"What?"
Draco gestured toward the store next door.
"The one you keep staring at."
Harry hadn't realized he'd been looking.
"Oh."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Come on."
And somehow Harry found himself following him.
The shop was small.
Quiet.
Filled with towering shelves and the smell of old paper.
It felt immediately comforting.
Draco moved through the aisles with ease.
Like someone who had been there dozens of times before.
Maybe hundreds.
Harry watched him stop in front of a shelf.
Carefully pull out a book.
Turn it over in his hands.
There was something oddly intimate about it.
Seeing someone in a place they loved.
A place where they were completely themselves.
"You read a lot," Harry said.
Draco glanced up.
"Groundbreaking observation."
Harry ignored him.
"I just didn't expect it."
Draco studied him for a moment.
Then his expression softened slightly.
"Most people don't."
The answer felt more important than it should have.
For some reason Harry found himself wanting to know more.
Not about Draco Malfoy.
About Draco.
The man standing in front of him.
The one who loved books.
Who hated Ministry parties.
Who somehow kept making Harry laugh.
Hours later they stood outside the shop.
The sun was beginning to set.
Neither of them seemed particularly eager to leave.
Harry shoved his hands into his pockets.
Draco adjusted the sleeve of his coat.
Neither spoke.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable.
If anything, it felt surprisingly easy.
Harry's heart beat a little faster.
Just ask.
It wasn't difficult.
Would you like to get dinner sometime?
Would you like to meet again?
Can I have your number?
Anything.
Literally anything.
Instead he smiled like a complete fool and said,
"Well."
Draco stared.
Harry stared back.
Several painfully long seconds passed.
Then Draco sighed.
Actually sighed.
"As fascinating as this conversation is becoming..."
Harry groaned.
Draco's mouth twitched.
"I should probably go."
"Right."
"Right."
For a brief moment neither moved.
Then Draco stepped backwards.
"I'll see you around, Potter."
Something warm settled in Harry's chest.
"Yeah."
He smiled.
"See you around."
Draco walked away.
Harry watched until he disappeared into the crowd.
Then continued standing there.
Alone.
Like an idiot.
Five minutes later he was still standing in exactly the same spot.
A witch walking past gave him a concerned look.
Harry barely noticed.
Because one thought kept repeating itself.
Over.
And over.
And over again.
He should have asked.
Not just for a number.
Not just for coffee.
For anything.
Because somehow, somewhere between the Ministry balcony and the little bookshop, Harry had developed a problem.
And that problem had very pale hair and grey eyes.
Merlin.
Ron was going to be unbearable when he found out.
Ron was, in fact, unbearable.
"Just ask him out."
Harry glared across the table.
Ron looked completely unbothered.
Across from him, Hermione was trying and failing not to smile.
"It isn't that simple."
"It is exactly that simple."
"It really is," Hermione agreed.
Harry dropped his head into his hands.
This had been a mistake.
A massive mistake.
He should never have mentioned Draco.
Especially not the part where they'd met three times.
Or the part where they spent hours talking.
Or the part where Harry might have accidentally smiled while describing him.
"You fancy him."
Harry groaned.
"Ron."
"You do."
"Ron."
"You absolutely do."
Harry considered leaving.
Instead he remained seated because Hermione had made tea and because deep down he knew they were right.
That didn't mean he had to like it.
Unfortunately, life seemed determined to make things worse.
Because two weeks later Harry ran into Draco again.
Literally.
He turned a corner in Diagon Alley and nearly collided with him.
"Oh."
Draco caught his arm automatically to steady him.
For a brief second neither moved.
Harry became painfully aware of Draco's hand on his sleeve.
Then Draco stepped back.
"Potter."
"Malfoy."
A pause.
Then Draco sighed.
Not dramatically.
Not jokingly.
A genuine sigh.
Harry frowned.
"You okay?"
Draco stared at him.
For several seconds.
Long enough that Harry began wondering if he'd said something strange.
Then Draco shook his head.
"No."
Harry blinked.
"No?"
"No."
Another pause.
Draco looked oddly frustrated.
Which was new.
Normally he always seemed composed around Harry.
Now he looked like someone rapidly losing patience.
"Draco?"
The use of his first name seemed to surprise both of them.
Draco's eyes widened slightly.
Harry's heart nearly stopped.
Then Draco laughed.
A short, disbelieving laugh.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake."
"What?"
Draco looked up at the sky.
As if searching for strength.
When he looked back down, Harry could see the exact moment he made a decision.
"Potter."
"Yes?"
"You know, most people ask for someone's number after the third accidental meeting."
Harry froze.
Completely.
Utterly.
Hopelessly.
His brain stopped functioning.
Draco folded his arms.
Waiting.
Harry stared.
Draco stared back.
"Oh."
Brilliant.
Absolutely brilliant.
Years of Auror training and the best response Harry Potter could produce was:
Oh.
Draco closed his eyes.
"Fantastic."
"No, wait."
Draco opened one eye.
Harry's face felt very warm.
"Oh."
"Still not helping."
"Right."
Harry took a breath.
Then another.
Because suddenly everything made sense.
The café.
The bookstore.
The way Draco always stayed longer than necessary.
The almost disappointed look whenever Harry left.
Merlin.
Draco had been interested too.
For months.
"You were waiting for me to ask?"
Draco looked offended.
"Waiting implies patience."
Harry laughed.
Actually laughed.
Right there in the middle of Diagon Alley.
Relief flooded through him so quickly he nearly felt dizzy.
Draco's expression softened.
Just slightly.
And for the first time Harry realized something important.
Draco looked nervous.
Not much.
Most people probably wouldn't notice.
But Harry did.
Because despite everything, Draco wasn't entirely sure how this was going to end either.
That realization gave Harry courage.
Finally.
At long last.
After months of being an idiot.
"Can I have your number?"
Draco stared.
Then slowly a smile appeared.
Small.
Warm.
Beautiful.
Harry's heart did an embarrassing little flip.
"There he is."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Don't."
"I was beginning to think I'd have to draw diagrams."
"I said don't."
Draco laughed.
The sound settled somewhere directly beneath Harry's ribs.
A moment later Draco pulled a scrap of parchment from his pocket and scribbled something down.
Then he handed it over.
Harry looked at the number.
Then back at Draco.
Neither of them looked away immediately.
The crowd moved around them.
Shopkeepers called to customers.
A group of children ran past laughing.
But somehow the world felt quieter than before.
Smaller.
Like it had narrowed down to this single moment.
Draco tilted his head.
"Now what?"
Harry smiled.
A real smile.
One that felt suspiciously impossible to hide.
"Now..."
He folded the parchment carefully.
"How do you feel about coffee?"
Draco stared at him.
Then groaned dramatically.
"Potter."
"What?"
"I have been feeling positively desperate about coffee for months."
Harry laughed again.
And this time, Draco joined him.