Title: Unexpected Encounters
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I do claim the snark, though.
Pairings: Eventual Harry/Draco.
Rating: T
Warnings: Should there be? Passing suggestive comments.
Wordcount: Under construction.
Summary: In which Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy go on an adventure. And there are dragons.
A/N: A fairly straight-forward adventure story. I'm hoping to go in-depth into the nature of magic. Much love to xDarkxLightx for beta work.
When Draco Malfoy answered his door one August afternoon, he definitely did not expect to see Harry Potter standing there. In his surprise, he forgot to slam the door shut again and merely stood there, wordless.
"Hullo, Malfoy," said the other man easily. "I've come to return your wand." He held out one hand and indeed, on the upturned palm rested a familiar hawthorn wand.
Almost mechanically, Draco reached out, fingers eagerly settling into the grooved wood. "Thank you," he muttered, purely out of habit, but couldn't think of anything else to say.
There was a long silence then. Potter was frowning thoughtfully as he considered Draco and the surroundings. Under the measured gaze, Draco shifted, keenly aware of how he might appear to Potter, who looked every bit the hero the Daily Prophet made him out to be. Draco tiredly wished that Potter would leave, but after all, it seemed a bit absurd to say that to one who'd once saved his life.
Potter finally opened his mouth, on the verge of saying something, when a clear voice interrupted. "Why, Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to see you. Would you care to join me for tea?"
"I—of course, Mrs. Malfoy," replied Potter, sounding admirably composed even as he paled at the prospect.
"Wonderful. Do let the gentleman in, Draco," his mother said airily. So Draco stepped aside and watched Harry Potter walk into his home. As his mother took Potter's arm and led him away, the man glanced back, a plea in his eyes; but Draco could only shrug, equally bewildered, as the two disappeared into the parlour.
The second time, Draco did remember and shut the door at once. He paused in the hall, savouring the outraged surprise on the other man's face; then, ignoring the muffled protests from the outside, he went to find his mother.
"Mother, why is Harry Potter standing on our porch?"
"Well, darling, I'd imagine it's because you didn't let him in." She waved her wand over the vase of lilies she'd been painting (a Stasis Charm, he thought, to keep them fresh) and then looked up unconcernedly. "You really shouldn't keep him waiting, though—it's terribly rude. Besides," she continued, putting away the half-finished painting and picking up another canvas, "he'll be in no state to sit for me if he's all worked up."
"You're painting him?" Draco gaped at his mother. It was well-known that Harry Potter did not sit for portraits. Even good photographs of the man were rare: ones in papers were invariably grainy and showed Potter hurriedly ducking into buildings or warding off the camera with a forearm. "How did that happen?"
"I asked," his mother responded serenely. "His eyes looked such a challenge; they're quite wonderful. Now, be a dear and invite him in. I really must go change." With an almost girlish giggle, she glided into her bedroom. Draco suppressed the urge to bang his head on the wall and stalked down to the door.
By not answering the door at all, Draco thought he might have solved the Potter problem. When the doorbell rang, he would instead sit down in the foyer and glower at the door until the shadow behind the frosted glass retreated. Potter, however, didn't even pause to knock, but opened the door himself and strode right in. "Narcissa said I should, because you were 'being unreasonable'. Your wards are practically gone in some spots, did you know?" he began explaining apologetically, then paused and stared hard at Draco. "Why are you camped in the hallway?"
"I'm watching the paint dry," Draco snarled. "Go away."
"Ah," Potter coughed. "Good luck with that." Draco had the sneaking suspicion that the other man was very near laughing at him. "I'll just head on up, then."
As Potter walked off, Draco belatedly realised—"Potter! Since when do you call my mother Narcissa?"
A peal of laughter echoed down the hallway.
Potter was at the door, again, and Draco decided that this had gone on quite far enough. "Look, Potter," he began, flinging open the door, "perhaps I haven't been quite clear—what the hell are you wearing?"
"Er, dress robes?" the man suggested tentatively. "That is what people generally call them."
"Never mind," Draco snapped. "Has no one ever taught you how to tie a bow tie?"
"Hermione showed me a Tie-Tying Charm—"
"But that's a Windsor, which is all wrong. Here." Draco reached for the offending garment, fingers deftly crossing and uncrossing the fabric. "Much better," he declared, satisfied. "Yes, Potter, I do realise that those are, in fact, dress robes. But you see, you really shouldn't be here at all, let alone dressed like this."
Potter seemed a bit dazed and was inexplicably blushing. "Your mother—"
"Harry, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting." Narcissa drifted toward them, looking resplendent in a gown that Draco knew hadn't been worn in years: for where could she have worn them? "But a lady must look her best, you know." She winked. Winked! Draco had never seen anything so scandalous.
"You always look lovely, Narcissa," Potter said, in that entirely too sincere way of his. "Shall we go?"
"Thank you," she smiled demurely as she took his arm. "Good-bye, Draco, and please don't worry if I don't return tonight."
Then the two left, leaving behind a dumbfounded Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy had a plan. A very cunning plan, with all possibilities accounted for. After all the planning, it would have been quite a pity not to put it into action. So the very next time Harry Potter came, Draco ambushed him. A well-aimed Incarcerous later, he'd won himself a prisoner.
"You know, Draco, when I imagined this scenario the tying-up was usually consensual," Potter commented, but Draco ignored that. The man was obviously trying to distract him.
"All right, Potter," Draco said finally, after shoving Potter into his study, "what exactly are you doing?"
"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Potter somehow managed to frown and smirk at the same time. "You attacked me!"
"Unimportant," Draco waved his hand impatiently, "it's all part of the plan. You, however, aren't doing anything you're supposed to."
"What...I'm supposed to?"
"Yes. You saved the world. What you should be doing is rescuing orphaned baby Kneazles and Crups and generally living happily-ever-after." Draco said this all in one breath. "Instead, here you are, consorting with my mother." He pointed an accusatory finger at the other man, pronouncing darkly, "The neighbours are starting to talk."
"Draco, your house is the only one for a good twenty kilometres. You basically are your neighbours."
"Exactly my point. And don't call me Draco!"
Potter was now smiling broadly. While tied up. Draco had to admit, the man had nerve. "This isn't one of those moments when you ask me about my intentions and then bless our impending marriage, is it?"
"No!" Draco yelped. "You absolutely cannot marry my mother!"
"Okay."
"Well...good." Draco was taken aback by Potter's swift acquiescence. "As long as we're clear on that point." He paused. "Are you trying to trick me?"
"I assure you, I haven't the slightest intention of marrying your mother," Potter soothed. "She's not my type."
"What's wrong with my mother?" Draco asked, affronted. "I suppose you prefer someone like that Weasley girl."
"Ginny?" Potter looked surprised. "She's engaged to Dean. And they're living in Germany now—she's probably going to make their Quidditch team this year, you know."
"What happened?" Draco asked, curiosity piqued. "She decided that the Saviour of the World wasn't good enough for her?"
"Why does everyone think she was the one who called it off?" Potter was clearly disgruntled. "Is it so hard to believe that I'm a desirable person? Wait, don't answer that." Draco swallowed a smirk. "The truth is, we both decided we just liked someone else better."
"Really? Who?"
"Why don't I show you?" Swiftly, Potter stood to place a kiss on Draco's lips. "Oh, hello, Narcissa. Bye, Draco." Then with a cheeky grin, the man walked out of the study, leaving behind only the tangled ropes.
Draco would later blame the fact that his mother was laughing at him, but it took him a while to remember that he'd never untied Potter.
TBC...