Summary: When Harry Potter needs to escape his life, he uses polyjuice. It always worked for him…until while he was using polyuice he met and fell in love with Draco Malfoy. Then his whole world got turned upside down.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or anything else you may recognize. The characters and the world belong to Miss J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. As well, any song lyrics (and NO this is NOT a song fic) are from 'Conductor' by 'We Were Promised Jetpacks'. There will be a single line of lyric at the beginning of each chapter.
Warning: Mature
A/N: Hello! Here I am to start another fic, and I do hope you all enjoy it! Reviews are always greatly appreciated! This is an AU, Post-Hogwarts/Post-War fiction, and yes, it is explicitly Drarry. A million thanks and praises to my amazing beta, Arithmancy Master, thank you once again for embarking on another fic with me and our readers! Lastly, I hope you all enjoy!
Conductor
Chapter One
Just a comeback, another comeback.
London was thriving on New Year's Eve 2008. It was warm enough for the girls to comfortably wear their short, flashy dresses and tall boots but cold enough to warrant a thick jacket over the top. The streets had a fine layer of slush from the melting snow which never seemed to stay for too long. At the moment, the world appeared like a good place to be a part of. However, one Harry James Potter couldn't find it within himself to be happy.
In a busy part of muggle London, Harry found himself a bar that was perfect to his liking and lifestyle. Men would come and meet other men, dance without worry of judgement or harassment. It was at this club, G-A-Y (at Heaven), that he had met his former lover Maliki. It was back in 2004 and Harry had just turned twenty-four. He had stumbled upon the bar and began to frequent it by himself after his long hours working at the Ministry as one of the head Aurors. Maliki, a couple of years older than Harry, had noticed him sitting quietly at the bar by himself night after night. It took him only a few times of seeing him before he approached him.
Maliki was the first man Harry had ever let himself be known to. And when he did he ended up falling for him – hard. His relationship with Maliki was nothing like his with Ginny had been. Everything the two of them did together was fun or filled with passion. It had been difficult to keep his true identity from Maliki but in the end it worked out for the better. With Maliki, Harry never had to worry about his opinion on what they wrote about him in the Prophet or what he had done with the last twenty-four years in his life. Everything with Maliki was easy and electric.
Harry had come out to his close friends after Ginny broke off their sour engagement. He never identified himself as homosexual, just as simply curious. Maliki helped to propel his doubts of his sexuality and confirmed that he was indeed interested in both sexes. Once Ginny had heard talk of it from Ron she refused to speak to Harry for over a year until she finally was able to face him…with another man around her own arm. Since their engagement broke in 2003 she had married Dean Thomas and they had one baby girl with a boy on his way. Harry couldn't be happier for her; she deserved everything she wanted in her life that he couldn't possibly give her.
Ron and Hermione were particularly supportive of his orientation and helped keep his secret, especially when he began to date Maliki. After a year of seeing one another, Maliki invited Harry to live with him in his flat on the outskirts of London. Harry couldn't be happier.
Until the day of the incident.
There had been a break in at Gringotts which was simply unheard of. Harry was one of the first Aurors on the scene. It wasn't a particularly clever break in but the goblins couldn't be bothered with defending the bank or the citizens that were being harmed and held hostage in the process of the robbery. Through negotiations Harry and his team were able to talk down six of the robbers out of a team of nine. The last three, however, had different things in mind. A duel began between the team of Aurors and the men and Harry had become caught in the crossfire. A particularly nasty laceration hex hit him in the neck.
Once the robbers were apprehended Harry was brought to St. Mungo's for immediate care. The laceration was sealed but like all curse marks it would be just another scar he would have to bear. When he returned home to his boyfriend, Maliki was quick to notice the new scar that ran from his left jawline nearly all the way down to his collarbone. When he questioned Harry about it and Harry continuously told him it had always been there and lied profusely of how he received the laceration, Maliki eventually became fed up and left.
Harry followed him not long after to Heaven, where he knew he would be, but what he saw when he got there wasn't what he expected. Harry could never forget the look of Maliki wrapped so tightly around another man, his mouth devouring the other like Harry had never seen a man be kissed before.
Needless to say the incident was the reason why Harry only went to Heaven under a polyjuice and was alone on New Year's Eve 2008 looking like anyone other than Harry Potter. Instead, he was a handsome Muggle from the coffee shop around the corner from Harry's flat. His hair was short, light brown and his eyes were a dull blue. He had a particularly fantastic, lean physique which Harry couldn't help but admire. Though he wasn't always this particular man, sometimes he would snag hairs from people at work and a couple of times he even took one from Ron or Bill.
For the first few months Harry went to see Maliki though he never approached him. He only watched as he danced amongst his friends and lovers which seemed to change rather frequently much to Harry's chagrin. After he had finally begun to deal with their separation, Harry visited the club less often but still did on some weekends.
This particular New Year was the first he was ever due to be spending alone. Hermione and Ron were stuck at home with the kneazle pox and poor Hugo had it, too. Rose was currently staying with her grandparents at the Burrow until the rest of her family was free of the infection. Ginny and Dean had invited Harry to their New Year's Eve party and although he was grateful for the sentiment he always avoided going over to their house if possible. Neville and Hannah were currently in Asia with their kids as Neville was studying a rare form of dittany that had surfaced there. A few of the men from work invited Harry out to the Three Broomsticks but he simply didn't feel up to it.
Instead, Harry found himself at the bar at Heaven, alone. He was leaning forward on his elbow, drowning out the incessant noise from the crowd. New Year was the busiest evening of the year and Harry was beginning to wonder why he had even bothered coming out at all.
'For the drinks,' he reminded himself as he looked down at his nearly empty glass of scotch. Harry threw the rest of it back in his head and waited for the bartender to come around again.
As he stood from his stool to get the bartender's attention he felt a deliberate hand on his shoulder. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, his Auror reflexes itching to grab at his wand in his pocket in defense. When he turned to see whose hand was gripping his shoulder lightly from behind, his heart stopped in his throat.
Draco Malfoy stood behind him, his narrow lips curled up into a breath-taking, playful smirk. His hair was as perfect as it had always been, neatly parted and almost as light as snow. His skin looked flawless, unscathed, and in Harry's opinion completely unreal. Nobody could be so void of blemishes. And although he was taller, more filled out and much more handsome than before, Harry was absolutely certain it was none other than Draco Malfoy standing before him, his hand still on his shoulder. That face was unmistakeable.
"Sorry to have startled you, I was trying to get your attention but I think the music is a little loud in here tonight!" Draco yelled over the sheer volume of the club.
Harry sat still, staring wide eyed at him. 'Draco Malfoy. Here. In a gay muggle club. I must be drunker than I thought I was.'
Draco removed his hand from Harry's shoulder and held it out to him, his smirk turning into a small, soft smile. Harry didn't know if it was the way the club lighting shone on his pale skin or the absurd fact he was pretty certain Draco Malfoy was here to hit on him and had no idea who he was but Harry had a sudden urge to kiss those lips. 'How have I never noticed how bloody fantastic he looks?!' he screamed inwardly at himself as he still couldn't formulate words out loud as Draco extended his hand which Harry awkwardly shook.
"The name is Draco. Come and dance with me," he said with his hand still extended.
Harry swallowed his heart and the heavy lump both stuck in his throat. He wasn't sure what possessed him to take the offer; perhaps it was the fact Draco kindly demanded his dance instead of asking for it, or the sheer confidence he exuded or even just his budding curiosity.
"What's your name?" Draco nearly had to scream over the thumping house music as he led their way onto the sweaty, crowded dance floor.
"James," Harry yelled back.
Draco peered over his shoulder at Harry and smirked again. "So, the cute man does speak."
Harry felt his knees go weak. Draco Malfoy was flirting with him. Harry knew Draco had no idea it was really him but still he couldn't wrap his head around what was happening and how he had come to be standing before him on a dance floor. Harry was wearing his typical blue jeans that were a little too tight and a black polo shirt. Draco, however, looked like a primed muggle. His slacks were perfectly straight, his tight button up shirt revealed far too much of his flawless skin. He looked as if he had spent hours in preparation but Harry figured it probably only took the man minutes to look so good. It had always been natural for him to appear that way.
"You see, James," Draco breathed as he leaned in towards Harry, his arms snaking around his waist and his mouth settling beside his ear. Harry shivered into him but remained unmoved as Draco pressed their bodies up together. "I do believe you need to move in order to dance."
And that's when all hope was lost for Harry. The distant memories of the war and the prat Draco Malfoy used to be automatically slipped out of his head as his body began to move against Harry's. His pointed hips dug slightly into Harry's own but rolled in a way Harry had never felt somebody move before. He had seen the dancers at the club dance the way Draco was but he had never felt it. Draco's hands roamed on Harry's back, slipping under his shirt and onto his skin. Harry jumped at the touch but didn't protest.
Eventually, gathering up what was left of his Gryffindor pride, Harry began to mirror Draco's movements. His own arms tentatively slinked up around the slightly taller boy and began to explore the foreign territory. Harry's hips swayed into Draco's as Draco pressed them together even further. Harry was certain if they got any closer osmosis would begin to occur.
"James, what brings you to Heaven alone on a night like tonight?" Draco asked conversationally, thankfully the yelling was no longer necessary as his lips still were ghosting across his ear.
"Er, I always come here alone. Guess tonight's no different from any other night," Harry said lamely. "What about you-ahhhh," Harry cut himself off as Draco suddenly ground into him a little harder and his semi-aroused member pressed up against Harry's fully aroused one. 'When did that happen?!' Harry internally screamed, scolding himself.
Even though he couldn't see it, he could feel Draco smirk against his ear and could swear he felt his lips press to his skin. "First time here. My friends had other, more boring plans for this evening that I simply could not bear to be a part of."
"And, uh, what do you think of Heaven?"
In a sudden movement too quick for Harry to follow, Draco turned around in Harry's arms and now had his back pressed up against Harry's front. He continued to move his hips in a way Harry was now sure was impossible for a man to do, his buttocks rubbing on Harry's pelvis as his one hand rested on his thigh and his other reached behind him and wound its way into Harry's hair. "I love it," Draco grinned.
At that point Harry was so riddled with shock and arousal he wasn't entirely sure how he was still standing and moving with Draco. They danced in silence for a few minutes, Harry trying desperately to grasp at any coherent thought in his head as Draco seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. Harry was so wrapped up that he hadn't even noticed the time or the people counting down in unison around him or even the fact the music had levelled out for a moment to allow the crowd to count together. Draco was still grinding back into him and then suddenly yanked Harry by the back of the neck forward enough that their lips could crash together.
Draco kissed Harry feverishly and deeply for a moment as the club erupted into screams and shouts of "Happy New Year!" around them. By the time Harry caught his breath Draco was facing him again, smiling broadly.
"Happy New Year, James, and thanks for the dance," he said and began to take his leave.
Harry blinked a few times out of astonishment before lunging forward. He had no idea what he was doing but all he did know was that he couldn't let Draco slip away from him now. He needed to know why he was there. Why was he dancing with strangers in muggle clubs and kissing them? And more specifically kissing men? Since when was Draco Malfoy gay?
Draco raised his eyebrow at Harry in a way that reminded him of the Slytherin he knew at Hogwarts. "In exchange for the dance, I want a date." Harry was never a forward person but he needed to do something, he needed to answer all these new burning questions in his head.
Draco looked thoughtful for a moment before his sly grin returned. "A date? If you so insist."
The two went off to the bar together as they exchanged addresses. Harry was certain the one Draco gave him couldn't be real. It was an address of a house in the small, nice residential village not far from his own flat but quite far from any wizarding parts of London. Still, he took it and Draco's apparent phone number.
"It was a pleasure, James." Draco smirked as he leaned forward and kissed Harry again but this time softly and on the cheek. Before Harry could say anything in return Draco was gone amidst the crowd of Heaven, leaving him dazed and in desperate need of another drink.
XXXX
Saturday morning saw Harry having a debate with himself. He walked passed the number stuck to his fridge multiple times; in each instance he paused for a moment, decided against it and shook his head.
It was by noon, after his third cup of coffee and finally giving into a hangover concoction he kept stocked from the apothecary, when he finally picked up the slip of paper. He could always just show up at his address. Harry was surprised Draco had been so trusting and gave it to him, then again, he thought he was an ordinary muggle and what harm could a muggle do to a wizard?
Nervous but suddenly overcome with determination – or perhaps it was just the caffeine jitters – Harry dialed the number. By the third ring he was certain Draco was ignoring his call; by the fifth he questioned why he still hadn't hung up. Then came the automated answering machine. Harry hadn't been expecting it and found himself struggling for words.
Clearing his throat, disguising his voice to the one he used as James, he spoke, unsure of himself once again. "Er, hello. This is James, from last night. I don't know if you remember but, well, I was hoping that maybe…could you just call me back? I'd like to see you again. Uhm…okay, I guess I'll hear from you later. Maybe. Bye." Harry hung up quickly, his breathing laboured. "That's got to be the most awful message I've ever left," he chastised himself.
'Why do I even care so much? Draco Malfoy is gay. Big whoop. It's certainly not the news of the century; he always had an obsession with dressing to perfection, not to perpetuate a stereotype and all but…is it even the Malfoy being gay part that's bothering me…' Harry shook his head. He poured another cup of coffee and went to his seldom seen study.
Along his shelves of books, most of them old texts from his days at Hogwarts, and others scrapbooks compiled mostly by Hermione and duplicated. One, however, was made by his own hand. He found it, fingered its leather spine, before pulling it from the shelf and frowning at it. He had spellotaped a note to it that read, in his messy scrawl, 'Malfoy'. Hermione had saved nearly all important Daily Prophet, Quibbler, and even Witch Weekly articles over the years – especially during their last few years at Hogwarts despite her dislike of the Prophet. She had clipped and pasted within parchment books all clippings related to the three of them, their families, their friends, Hogwarts, and the larger political news that had occurred. She was never inclined to keep the articles surrounding the Malfoy family, Harry, however, was. He had kept them stowed away for years before finally plastering them in a book of their own. He rarely opened this book, not as much as he did the others, and usually only when there was a new article to add – which was rare these days.
Opening it now, he flipped through the fraying articles. He quickly, and guiltily, passed by the picture of Lucius' imprisonment, and came at last to one of the later articles. There Draco was, his parents in tow behind him, a scowl on his face looking clearly unhappy with the photographer. Beneath his picture, his perfectly tailored robes, his glaring grey eyes, was the header reading 'Malfoys – Acquitted of All Charges!' Harry didn't need to read the article itself; he had been there, he had witnessed it, and he had even spoken at all three of their separate trials. Perhaps he even contributed to the positive ruling in their favour.
The article following had a picture of only Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, reporting the news of Lucius Malfoy's mysterious murder. The Department for Magical Law Enforcement never investigated it – Harry assumed it was because they never cared for the death of an acquitted Death Eater.
A knock at the study door startled him and Harry slammed the book shut, shoving it back in its place on the shelf. "Sorry, mate, you weren't answering your Floo," Ron explained as he leaned against the doorway of the study. "What are you in here, for?"
Harry shrugged before turning to his best friend. "Bored, really. Telly is too loud," he gestured at his head.
Ron sniggered. "Rough night?"
"Something like that," Harry mumbled. "Happy New Year, then. You're not looking so horrible today," he commented.
The kneazle pox seemed to have calmed down, though it was still visible in the blemishes on his cheeks and about his ears, barely covered by his fading red hair. Ron shrugged. "Not contagious anymore, but Rose still can't come home till we're completely free of it. If you've taken your potion, Hermione wanted you to stop by for dinner tonight."
"Are you sure you're all well enough for that?" Harry returned, stepping past Ron (and careful not to touch him, contagious or not), leading the way to the kitchen. "Cuppa?"
"Ta, mate, I'm fine. She wants me to help around the house, looks a disaster after the past couple of days. So, will you be there? I reckon she's going stir crazy and just wants some company," he confessed.
"Alright then, so long as you're not contagious anymore…and you're lucky I've got two more doses of that potion," he said, busying himself with making his fourth cuppa.
Ron was standing by the table, his eyes fixated on a scrap of paper beside his mobile on top of it. "Looks like you had a good night to me, mate, got a phone number, then? Who's the lucky man? Or woman," Ron added, furrowing his brows for a moment. He, like Harry, was never quite sure if he was homosexual or just bisexual with a tendency to lean more towards men. Harry tried not to question it too often, he was merely thankful his friends had come to accept it over time.
"Er, just a guy I met. Not important, really. I think he, uh, screened my call and didn't answer. Made a fool of myself on his machine," Harry admitted.
Coming up behind his friend, Ron clapped him on the shoulder gently and reassuringly. "There'll be more, there always are. Not for me, though, which is why I've got to keep what's mine happy. We'll see you tonight, then," he excused himself.
"Round seven," Harry called after him, not bothering to walk him to the Floo – his flat was as good as Ron's, giving how often he was over there.
"Seven," Ron confirmed from down the hall before Harry heard him disappeared into the Floo.
Later that evening, as Hermione disappeared upstairs to put Hugo into bed well after dinner, Harry relaxed into one of the armchairs in their crowded living room. He and Ron were going over one of the latest, stranger, cases that had come across their desks at the Ministry when it happened. His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as he reached to answer it. Everybody that would call him was present. Knowing this well enough told him it was one of two people who would be calling his mobile – and one hadn't rung in a very long time. Without even having to look at the name across his screen, Harry answered it, willing his heart to stop thudding so loudly in his chest.
"Er, hullo," he said at last, his voice unsure and uneven. Ron was sitting across, watching him oddly. He was speaking in the same voice he tried to use when he was polyjuiced.
"Are you always that uncertain when you answer your own telephone?" came the smooth drawl from the other hand.
Harry nearly shivered at the sound of his voice. Did he always sound this confident? This sure of himself? "Sorry, just surprised," he said earnestly.
"Though I'm not fond of these telephones," 'I'm certain you're not,' Harry thought to himself, "I do believe it is proper etiquette to return when somebody rings you?"
"Yeah, it is…I just thought you had given me a number to get rid of me last night," Harry elaborated.
Draco's laughter was soft on the other end. Harry could almost hear his smirk in his voice. "You're a good dancer, and a good kisser," Draco admitted, "If I go on this date you so wish to have then perhaps I can see just what else you're good at."
Hearing the heavy insinuation in Draco's voice nearly had Harry choking on his own tongue. He spluttered into the phone, only causing Draco to chuckle bemusedly once again. "How about on Anderson and Fifth, there's a lovely shop called The Well, we could meet there tomorrow evening."
'Anderson and Fifth? That's close to where Malfoy said he lived…' Harry thought absently, still unable to bring himself to words.
"Around five?" Draco added, gently urging a response.
"S-sure, five, Anderson and Fifth, The Well," Harry repeated nervously, only causing the blond more amusement.
"Good. I look forward to it, James."
Before Harry could respond, the line went dead in his ear. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and turned ashen faced as he saw Hermione had returned and both her and her husband were looking at him with expectant smiles. "That the bloke you left that awful message for this morning?" Ron asked.
Harry nodded bleakly. "Seeing him tomorrow night," he said shortly. He felt in a state of permanent astonishment. Surely he wasn't going on a date with Malfoy. Was he dreaming? Had he been slipped something last night and all of a sudden lost all his logic and reasoning?
"You met somebody last night?" Hermione inquiring, sitting with Ron across from him now.
"Er…" Harry paused. He certainly didn't want to lie to his friends about who he was seeing but could he tell them otherwise.
"Wait, don't you go polyjuiced to that place?" Ron questioned, slightly confused.
Hermione frowned disapprovingly. Ever since the end of the war, she was never a supporter of polyjuicing, especially knowing how often Harry utilized it. "Honestly, Harry, can't you find a different place to go?"
"Heaven is perfect. It was mine before I met him," Harry snapped back quickly before smiling apologetically at her. He was always defensive when it came to anything that could be related to Maliki. "I have enough hairs from the fellow I was polyjuiced as to do it quite a few more times," he explained.
"Then what?" Hermione countered.
"Then what? Then, if all things are going well, I can always take more hairs and if it's serious enough-"
"Harry!" Hermione immediately chastised, knowing exactly where his thoughts were leading. "That is illegal. And you are the Head Auror!"
Ron looked between his wife and friend. "What's illegal?"
Hermione crossed her arms and stared at Harry with pursed lips. "Breaking the Statue of Secrecy to Muggles."
Ron turned to look wildly at Harry. "They can sentence you for that!"
Harry groaned. He had to tell them. They certainly wouldn't let him hear the end of it otherwise. "I won't have to break any statue or any law," he muttered and looked down at his hands, wringing themselves together in his lap. "The bloke I met was a wizard."
Considering that piece of news shocked them, Harry was certain anymore would permanently stun them. "Do you know him?"
"Did he go to Hogwarts?"
"Did you tell him who you were?"
Harry quickly put his hands up to stop their alternating questions and sighed as they silenced themselves. "Yeah, he went to Hogwarts, yes I know him, and no of course I didn't bloody well tell him. He would have run if I had told him. I don't even like the guy," Harry half-lied. That wasn't true. Before last night, he had been indifferent to Malfoy over the past few years. After last night, despite the obvious physical attraction, Harry had no idea what to make of him.
"Don't like him…why bother going out with him then?" Ron quipped.
Resting his head in his hands, Harry ran his fingers through his unruly hair, his glasses sliding down his nose. "Because I need to know why he was there," he said honestly.
Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances. "Who is he, Harry?" Hermione asked softly.
After what felt like eons, Harry finally whispered his name, as if it were a swear, as if it were a forbidden word. "Malfoy."
The silence and slack-jawed faces that met him rattled him. Thankfully, after a long moment, Hermione stood up from the Chesterfield. "I'm going to go make us some cuppas," she informed them.
Harry looked up at Ron who was staring back at him, still clearly surprised, but he wasn't angry. He held no contempt in his face, just confusion. This comforted Harry to some extent. Once Hermione returned, placing warm cuppas in both of their hands and reseating herself, she inclined Harry to explain on his own time. With as little detail as possible he explained how Malfoy approached him and what had happened since then.
"Why even bother dancing with him? You should have told him to bugger off, mate," Ron commented dryly.
Harry flushed and looked down at the cup in his hand. "I was a little shocked at the moment, and curious," he admitted.
"And you're planning on meeting him again tomorrow night…because you're curious?" Hermione asked slowly as her and her husband attempted to wrap their heads around the odd situation.
Biting his lip, Harry nodded. "What's so curious about it?" Ron scowled, "We haven't seen Malfoy in years, good riddance, why care about what the bugger's up to?"
"I don't care," Harry said quickly, "I'm just curious," he added a little more softly.
Silence hung around them for a few moments once again before Harry broke it, he desperately wanted to explain himself to his friends. "Try to understand…last time I saw Malfoy was on the street in Diagon Alley three years ago. Before then, it was at his own trial after the war. Then all of a sudden he's showing up in Muggle London at Heaven? I mean, Malfoy is gay? And since when is he okay with consorting with Muggles?"
"It is a little odd that he's hanging around Muggle London, but…I never did see him with many skirts at school," Ron considered, receiving a glaring look from Hermione for his comment. "Besides, isn't it a little bit of the pot calling the cauldron black, you talking about Malfoy being gay?"
Harry frowned. "Not that there's anything wrong with it, obviously, it's just surprising," at Hermione and Ron's shrugs he grumbled, "Surprising to me, at least."
"I reckon over the years, especially with the new integration program for Muggleborns and Squibs at Hogwarts, Malfoy could have become more enlightened and tolerant towards Muggles. What is it he does, anyway? His family is no longer affiliated with the Ministry, are they?" Hermione questioned Harry and Ron who both quickly shook their heads.
"Once Lucius passed they sort of disappeared," said Ron.
"Malfoy runs that apothecary in Louth, or at least last I heard," Harry tried to recall – he wasn't sure where he had remembered hearing that but he was certain that's what their old friend, Luna, had told him last he saw of her.
"Louth? In Lincolnshire?" Hermione appeared surprised.
Harry nodded into his cuppa. "That's what Luna told me a few years back. I didn't know there were many wizards that far east ."
"There aren't, that's why it's surprising. I do know there are a few families, very old ones that are settled in Kesteven and Lincoln. Not that it matters, one can Floo where they need to nowadays," Hermione added as an afterthought.
"True, still an odd place for the bloke to settle down."
"He hasn't settled there," Harry quickly corrected. "He gave me his address last night, it's not far from St. Mungo's, actually."
Ron leaned back in his seat, furrowing his brow. "Must be a bit of a hassle to have a shop set up in Louth and live in London. Most business owners like to stay close to their shops," he commented. "Still doesn't explain your going along with all of this, Harry. Is it really worth having to polyjuice yourself as another guy just to…well, what is it you're hoping to accomplish anyway?"
Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times. He took a long sip from the cup in his hands before placing it gently down on the table. "I just want to know what Malfoy's up to in a Muggle club, s'all. It's not normal."
"Sure it's not. You going on a bloody date with Malfoy isn't normal, either," Ron said pointedly.
Harry grimaced. That much was true, however, the thought of it didn't perturb him as much as it should. His curiosity was overcoming the oddity of the whole affair and he wanted to know, for whatever reason, what is was Draco Malfoy was up to and why he was spending New Year's Eve alone, dancing with strangers. Not to mention, the kissing and dancing had been spectacular and Malfoy looked a right sight for sore eyes.
Hermione must have been watching Harry closely as she was now looking at him with thorough concern. "Harry," she began gently, "Is it just curiosity?"
"Of course it is!" Ron defended him but then turned to Harry's ashen face and frowned. "Mate, you don't actually like Malfoy, do you?"
"Merlin, no! He was a decent kisser…and a fantastic dancer," he mumbled the last part underneath his breath.
Ron turned white at his words as Hermione's frowned merely deepened. "That, I didn't need to know, mate. What you do on your free time is fine by me, so long as it doesn't involve that bastard Maliki and so long as I don't have to hear about you kissing Malfoy," he muttered, disgruntled.
Harry smiled at him apologetically and turned on Hermione's worried face, automatically understanding what concerns she was going to raise. "I just want to know what he was doing there, Hermione. Nothing else. It's just a harmless date, I won't get myself hurt and I won't hurt Malfoy," he promised.
Hermione looked unsure. "You're a grown man, Harry, I trust you to make your own decisions. It's just…going around as a different person seeing Malfoy on a date? I just don't want you to get hurt. Be careful, Harry."
"I will, Hermione, I promise."
XXXX
Before his date had even begun, Harry was finding it difficult to keep his promise to Hermione. Perhaps this was not one of his brightest ideas.
Harry was sitting nervously in the coffee shop Draco had instructed him to be at. The shop itself was nice; it had a strong smell of dark coffee and chocolate in the air, soft music playing in the background, and the meaningless chatter of the locals around him. It was relaxing and definitely not a place Harry would expect to see Draco at. Harry checked his watch. Draco was fifteen minutes late. Had he forgotten? Had it been a joke all along? Was he honestly just trying to get rid of Harry two nights ago as he had suggested?
Then he saw him from his table in the corner of the shop. He walked past the windows and to the front door. Harry's breath hitched in his throat. Even in the hue of faded light in the shop, Malfoy looked exquisite. He wore grey slacks, a white button up with a black sweater vest over the top. He even wore a tie. Harry looked down at himself. He felt incredibly under dressed in his jeans and his polo. Malfoy's hair was perfectly parted at one side, it hung loosely around his face but it appeared like every strand had its place to be. Harry was absently remembering how soft that hair had felt up against his cheek the other night.
And then – Harry was certain his heart would stop – Malfoy smiled. A genuine smile tugged at the corner of his thin lips, his grey eyes looked alight. Being caught in the handsome daze of Malfoy's presence, Harry was suddenly rethinking that this was one of his brighter ideas.
"My apologies for being so late, I was almost certain you would have left," Draco said, gesturing at the girl behind the counter to come over as he sat down across from Harry. "Does it surprise you that I came?"
Harry realised he must have been staring at him gobsmacked and quickly recovered himself. "Sorry, I just…I thought you were having me on," he said truthfully.
"There was a – client," he said, his hand gesturing lazily as he searched for the right words, "That was absolutely refusing to leave my shop."
'So he does still own the apothecary,' Harry thought to himself, storing that information away for further use. The waitress came over, offering to fill Harry's coffee, and taking Malfoy's order. She looked between the two of them, her cheeks tinting slightly pink, before she hurried off to retrieve Malfoy's drink.
"You own a shop?" Harry urged, finally able to find his stability somewhere between his coffee and looking anywhere but directly at Draco as his eyes focused on the wood table in front of them. Malfoy nodded, his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly. "Er, what type of shop?"
"Whenever I answer that question, it tends to scare away any potential for a second date," Malfoy returned coyly.
Harry looked up at him then to see him smirking bemusedly at him, his eyes were simply sparkling. Harry's breath was caught in his throat and he nearly swallowed his tongue. The way Malfoy was looking at him, so earnestly and unguarded, had him rethinking the man entirely, almost forgetting about the boy he used to be. "Try me," Harry returned once he found his voice.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow and before he could answer they were interrupted by the waitress who set down his drink. Once alone again, Malfoy settled back into his seat. "I sell ingredients and items that Pagans use. You know, New Age believers, Wiccans and the sort," he explained nonchalantly.
Eternally thankful he had his cup raised to his lips, Harry used it to hide his surprise. Malfoy was being almost honest. As honest as he could be, given the Statue of Secrecy. Harry hadn't been expecting that. "Is there a lot of money in that type of business?"
"Enough," he said, shrugging. "Money has never been quite an issue with me."
Harry snorted, he had known that much already. At Malfoy's questioning look, however, he quickly covered to explain himself. "You just look, er, financially successful. Your clothes and all, and, well…" Harry blushed deeply and bit his lip. 'Great, now I've been reduced to a sputtering pansy,' he chastised himself.
Malfoy was laughing easily from his seat, his index finger lazily skimming the rim of his cup. His eyes never swayed from Harry, they were burning into him intensely. "I have been told on occasion I have a certain eye for dress," he conceded.
"I've never quite understood it all, clearly," Harry mumbled, gesturing at his foreign body and the clothes that were a bit too small for his polyjuiced form. Harry regretted having directed Malfoy's attention to anywhere but his face because now his eyes were trailing down his torso, lingering a moment too long, before he drew back up to look at him, smiling languidly.
"Oh, I don't know," Malfoy drawled, leaning forward again, "I think you do just fine."
Harry was caught staring somewhere between Malfoy's lips and his eyes, and from that moment, he knew he didn't stand a chance.
Time slipped by quicker than Harry would have expected. Over the three hours he spent with Malfoy at The Well, he had to rethink his entire perspective on the man before him multiple times. Malfoy shared freely with him, of his life, of his family, his past, his friends, and even his work. Of course, they weren't whole truths, but they were half-truths. Instead of Hogwarts, Malfoy spoke of a boarding school, and instead of the wizarding war, he vaguely spoke of difficult situations his family had been a part of.
To the best of his abilities, Harry shared in return. He attempted to stray from talking about his past, about his job (which he had lied and said he worked for the Ministry of Defence as one of the lower ranking officers), and spoke more of the things he could have when he was with Maliki. Music, what he watched on the telly, books he recently read, and current politics. It had been, oddly pleasant, and once Harry had gotten over his initial shock, he was perfectly at ease speaking with Malfoy – especially not being within his own skin.
When they parted ways, Harry was even more surprised Malfoy asked nothing more of him than a kiss and if it would be alright if he could call on him again. The kiss was chaste, short, yet sweet and it lingered on Harry's lips for hours.
Three days later, Harry was going over the date in his head once again. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with the fact it was Malfoy he was seeing, he would have categorized it as the best date he had been on since Maliki. Malfoy was exactly who he remembered he was – but in all different ways. He was still arrogant and pompous in his own right, but intelligent, charming, funny, and what Harry couldn't forget no matter how many times he tried, Malfoy was gorgeous.
The fact he had enjoyed himself so thoroughly irked him, and the worst of it all was that he was looking forward to seeing Malfoy again, waiting rather impatiently for his call.
Just after Harry had discovered some food in Ron's desk at the Ministry, he left, two hours after his shift, for Diagon Alley. He had been meaning to make a trip to Flourish and Blotts for some time, hoping a new book could distract him from his borderline obsessive thoughts of Malfoy. Most unfortunately for him, Flourish and Blotts was not as empty as he had hoped it would be. Instead, it seemed some force was working against him that day and a certain blond was at the counter, talking animatedly with the clerk.
The clerk's eyes flitted over to Harry as he entered causing Malfoy to turn around, too. As soon as their eyes met, Malfoy's lips turned into a scowl and he turned back to the clerk. Harry felt like turning around and running back out onto the street but he couldn't concede, not to Malfoy. Maybe the act he had given him when he played James was all just that – an act. Harry was, once again, too curious to find out.
Harry sidled around the edge of the store, hoping to stay out of Malfoy's line of sight as he browsed for a book. When Malfoy was about to leave, Harry grabbed the nearest book to him and stopped his old school mate in his path. "Erm, how have you been, Malfoy?"
Malfoy's eyebrows raised into his fringe, his arms crossed his chest and he glared down at Harry like he was the last person he wanted to see. "Lovely, Potter," he bit out, "Though I don't see how my well-being is any concern of yours." Malfoy moved to walk around Harry but was stunned when a heavy hand gripped his forearm, stopping him. "Yes?" he spat questioningly, wrenching his arm free.
"Uh…" Harry stammered, his breath in his throat. He had nothing to offer Malfoy – to the old Slytherin, Harry was still Potter and not some man he had just gone on a date with three days ago. "Have you ever read it? Er, this?" he shoved the book in his hand towards Malfoy.
Taking a long look down at its cover, the corners of Malfoy's lips twitched as if he were suppressing a laugh. "A hundred spells every witch should know? Potter," he leaned forward slightly, smirking and eyes glinting mirthfully, "Is that your way of telling me I look pretty?"
Looking down at the book in his hand, Harry turned a crimson red and cursed himself. Of course that had to be the book he gathered off the shelf. "That's not – I meant – damn," Harry swore, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.
"Try The Other Side of the Pensieve by Armandi Kivari, you would probably get more out of it than that," Malfoy grinned, gesturing to the book in Harry's hands.
With that, Malfoy left the shop leaving Harry stunned. Confused. Baffled. Harry really had no idea how he was feeling at that moment and he somehow managed to ask the clerk for the book Malfoy suggested and walked out of Flourish and Blotts with it tucked under his arm, keeping it safe from the snow. Apparating home, Harry hurried to brew himself a cup of coffee. "Maybe Malfoy has changed," Harry mumbled to himself.
'And if he has, what does that mean? Do I want to keep seeing him? Is it safe, is it smart, for me to keep seeing him?' he asked himself, sitting down at his kitchen table, fingering the lettering of the title of the book. It appeared to be a heavy read, but otherwise the clerk said it was one of the better titles. Written only forty years ago, it was a philosophical fiction, of objectivist nature. Harry queried why Malfoy had recommended him this book in particular.
Harry's phone rang, startling him. As he went to answer it, his stomach nervously turned. Malfoy's name danced across the screen. Clearing his throat, Harry answered as evenly as he could manage. "Draco, hi," he softly greeted.
"Do you have any idea how cold it is outside today?" Malfoy quickly returned, his voice sounded slightly clipped.
"Pretty bloody cold," Harry returned and there was a moment of silence on the other end. "Oh, is this you trying to get me to ask you to meet me at The Well? Need a cuppa?"
At the sound of Malfoy's chuckle through the phone, Harry's stomach twisted oddly and he found himself smiling at the sound of it. "That would be lovely, James. I've had a rotten day and I thought you would be the perfect remedy to that."
Harry swallowed heavily. 'If only you knew, Malfoy,' he muttered to himself in disbelief. "I can be there in thirty," he offered.
"Make it an hour."
Despite the click in Harry's ear and the sudden stillness on the other end, Harry was suddenly smiling broadly. "Sod what's safe and what's smart, I'm going to see Malfoy again," Harry said determinedly, and went off to do just that.