Notes: A "tower block" is basically British slang for a high rise apartment building (just so you know, and in case you thought you might have to look it up like I did).
Harry fumbled with the keys as he balanced a box on one hip. It was move-in day, as Hermione had cheerfully put on his calendar. He had less help than he had expected as Ron and Hermione had run off to snog somewhere, Luna had gotten distracted, and Neville was running late.
He was barely 19, but he was happy to no longer be a burden to the Weasleys (although they would never call him that). After his parents had died in a car crash when he was a baby, Harry had become the Dursleys' charge. He had been taken in by the Weasleys when he was 18, after the Dursleys had kicked him out. He would be forever grateful to the Weasleys for helping him, but he was overjoyed about having his new apartment. It wasn't the nicest of flats or areas, but Harry's dream of being self-sufficient was finally coming true. Finally, he was in charge of his own destiny.
The keys slipped out of his grasp and they fell with a clink onto the floor. He sighed; this last box was really heavy. As he prepared to pick up the keys, a voice said from next to him, "Do you need any help?" Harry said, "Yeah, could you just grab my keys off the floor, and open the door?"
"Sure," the voice said. Harry looked over and saw a man with silver-blonde hair bend to pick up his keys. He stood and Harry looked into his grey eyes. He went to the lock and slipped the key inside. He turned it, and, with a click, unlocked the door. The door swung open, to reveal Harry's box-laden flat. "Here you go."
Harry shook himself out of his stupor. "Thank you," he said.
The man said, "No problem." He turned to walk away.
"Um…do you live around here?"
The man turned, "Yes, right there." He pointed at the door across the hall from Harry's flat.
"Ah, I see."
The man looked at him awkwardly and said, "Would you like to go get some coffee sometime?"
Harry blushed and said, "Sure. That'd be great."
The man smiled at him, and said, "Tomorrow afternoon? At 3?"
Harry replied, "Sounds good."
The man said, "Wait…I never asked you your name."
"It's Harry…Harry Potter."
The man smiled and said, "Draco Malfoy." Draco looked down at his watch and said, "Well, I've got to run. My shift starts in 15 minutes. I'll see you tomorrow."
Harry nodded at him, "Tomorrow." Harry retreated into his apartment as Draco walked away, and kicked the door shut behind him. He placed the box on his kitchen table, walked over to his "living room" area, and sagged happily onto his second-hand, beaten up sofa.
It looked like things were getting off to an excellent start.