Harry had slept in far too late again, and it was just approaching noon when he had finally showered and had "breakfast." He had been busy with the orphanage, along with several new furniture pieces. One of which was a present for Draco, which he intended to help remedy Draco's pathetic furnishing situation. He had been living in that flat for over three months now, and his sitting room still had nothing more than that sad shelf and old leather chair.
Draco usually had good taste, he knew, but he apparently couldn't care less about having a proper living space. He might have been happy with spending all his time at the kitchen table or on the bed, but Harry was growing tired of it whenever he visited.
He was just about to return to his work room to continue on it, when one of the postal owls swept in through the fireplace in his own sitting room. He honestly didn't know why (or how) they all had to do that...
But, speak of the devil, it was a note from Draco. He tossed the bird an owl treat from his jar, and it flew away shortly. Draco hardly ever needed a response by owl.
H,
I'm terribly bored. It's been three whole days without seeing you... Where have you been? I've been alone with my records all day, and I've had six requests that I restock on Celestina Warbeck.
Come whenever you like. I'll be here.
-D
Harry rolled his eyes. "Come whenever" was Draco's way of saying "I need you here immediately but I don't want to sound needy." He imagined he was glaring all his customers, and was probably on the verge of hexing anyone who "looked" like they wanted Warbeck.
Yes, it was probably best if he came immediately. He closed his eyes, and apparated to the now familiar storefront. There were several people milling about in the street, but the shop itself didn't look to busy. He swung open the door, not even feeling embarrassed to show up so quickly. He had been with Draco for two months, and there was very little left between them to be embarrassed about.
Once inside, he saw Draco across the shop, writing something while perched behind his counter, the color of his pale skin and light hair contrasting well with the dark blue walls behind him, and the dark oak shelves that touted the records. Harry paused to admire him, not bothering to greet him.
Draco looked up from his work, and raised an eyebrow. "If you were so eager to come, you shouldn't have waited for an invitation." He teased Harry, setting down his quill. There was a quirk of a smile on his lips, and they both knew that he had practically insisted on Harry's prompt arrival.
Harry grinned. "I didn't want to impose on anything," he insisted, casually walking up to the counter to meet him. He placed his hand on the counter, and Draco gave him a sappy look as he placed his own hand on top of it.
The only other customer in the shop cleared his throat and looked up curiously. Harry turned away from Draco to regard him. The man wasn't particularly tall, and he looked enough to be Harry's father age. He had dark, curly hair, and a buzzing manor to him that made him seem as though he were fluttering in place.
"Is this a friend of yours, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked, looking at Harry closely with narrowed eyes. He paused a minute, recognizing Harry, and then said, "My gods, you're Harry Potter."
Harry didn't even break face. He was used to this. "In the flesh." He replied dryly.
"No need to torment him, Auror Micheals," Draco laughed, joining in the conversation. "He likes the attention just about as much as I do," he added, slinking from around the counter to brush shoulders with Harry.
"Mmm, really? That makes sense, I suppose. Having the same publicity needs," Micheals grinned absently, picking up another record. He seemed to be the kind of man who didn't make much sense, or think of just one thing at a time. This assumption was proven as his eyes widened, and he gasped. "I listened to this when I was a kid!" He exclaimed, cradling the record like it was something precious.
Draco rolled his eyes, but Micheals didn't notice. "Take it. For free, Micheals. Merlin knows you've been my biggest customer; just take it as a token of appreciation," Draco told him.
Micheals looked up at him like a child at Christmas. "Really, Mr. Malfoy?" He asked. Draco nodded with some exaggeration, visibly waving him away with a hand. This did not perturb the man, as he proceeded to shout, "Thank you!" as he turned to leave. In a moment, he was half-gone. Before he was out the door, he turned and shouted, "You're magnificent as ever, Mr. Draco!"
The door swung open and closed, and Harry and Draco were left staring after the strange man in silence. After a moment, they both began to chuckle.
"Goodness. I hadn't meant for you to shoo off your customers," Harry commented, watching as the hummingbird-like man scuttled across the street.
Draco snorted, and locked the door with a wave of his hand. "It's no matter. He's come in and bought at least three records for every day I've been open; he might as well own every record in the shop. And I wasn't planning on keeping the shop open once you came, anyway." He added with a wink, leaning in to whisper into Harry's ear. "I've done nothing but keep the old bat company the past two days, it feels like."
He pulled away, and led Harry up the familiar stairs, which no longer felt boxy and claustrophobic to him. "What about the other two days?" Harry asked him as they entered into the sitting room. Something was different about it...
He stopped, and saw that the lonely leather chair had been replaced with a sofa of similar appearance. "You bought a couch," Harry stated, closing the stair door behind him.
"Your observational skills are quite impressive as usual, love," Draco snarked, collapsing onto the sofa in that gracefully clumsy manner he was apt to using. He draped himself over the left side of it, gestured for Harry to join him.
"It still feels empty in here," Harry complained, setting himself a good six inches away from Draco, who pouted at the distance, and perhaps on the comment about the furniture situation.
"Yes, well, it still hasn't been long since I moved in!" Draco protested, his face growing red when he most likely realized the excuse was losing it's effect.
"Actually," he added, "I was wondering if you could make a coffee table for me, and we could put it in here." He had a hopeful sort of look on his face, that made him look not quite unlike Auror Micheals.
Harry tucked his legs beneath himself, perching cross-legged and facing Draco. "I don't see why not," he replied. He wasn't going to tell him that he had almost finished one for him already-he wanted it to be a surprise.
He glanced over at the small, sad fireplace and the single plank of wood above it that stuck out like a mantel. "While we're at it, I think we should get your floo working properly; I'm tired of apparating here. I want to be able to walk in and invade your privacy at any moment!" He teased.
He looked at the fireplace, and another thought occurred to him. "I also feel inclined to make you a more dignified mantel," Harry decided, frowning at the living room's mediocre state in general.
"I like dignified things," Draco said in agreement. He glanced about in apparent discontentment. "This really is the worst room, isn't it?"
Harry nodded. "It's a little depressing." He admitted. Between the shabby fireplace, the cramped space, and the lack of natural light, it was a disaster. He cast a lumos charm to lighten it up a bit.
"Once we get the table," Draco continued, "I think we should go to Flourish and Blotts and pick out some good reading material. And I'll have the record player working by then, or I'll have caved and bought a typical magical one, so we'll have some music, too."
"We, Draco?" Harry asked, amused at Draco's confidence.
Draco blushed. "I didn't mean to be presumptuous, but I was hoping you'd move in soon," he confessed. "Besides, I'm used to sharing with someone else. Mostly my mother, but I've had flatmates and lovers, too." He winked at Harry, and grabbed his wrist, pulling him playfully to sit on his lap. Harry fell into place, and Draco began to play with his hair and rub his scalp as he often did.
Harry snuggled in closer to his chest. "Why not move into Grimmauld? It's bigger, and there's more lighting than in this dismal place." He suggested, staring up into Draco's gray eyes.
"Mmm, yes. Because that haunted old shack is so much less depressing than my cozy flat," Draco hummed, bending over to kiss Harry's forehead.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, if by cozy you mean leaving your window open all winter and never lighting a fire." He sat up, twisting himself to wrap his arms around Draco.
Draco pouted again, holding Harry's face with a hand. "So, you don't want to live with me?" He asked, looking concerned.
Harry rolled his eyes, and he pulled Draco into a full-on kiss. "Relax. Of course I want to live with you," he whispered onto his lips.
Draco smiled, kissing him again. "Good. Because I already took some of your things from your house and brought them here."
Harry pulled away. "You mean that's where all my shirts went?" He demanded.
"Relax," Draco murmured. "You can have them back now."
"I should hope so."
They sealed the deal with a final kiss, to Draco's squirming delight.