Memories, musings and Malfoy.

Harry loved living in Britain; he loved the pubs, the people and pints of nice cold beer with the frothy head spilling over his hand. What he didn't love about living in Britain was the rain. It was relentless. It just didn't fucking stop.

Harry pushed open the door to the bar, took off his wet cloak and sighed in relief. The smell of beer invaded his nostrils and caused him to crack a smile. Harry gave the half-empty bar a quick scout look over and discovered that his friends hadn't arrived yet, so he went up to the bar and bought himself a drink. Pansy had owled him earlier to meet up with her and Ginny; apparently they had some exciting news to share with him. Harry wasn't that excited about the news; knowing that pair, it could be something as 'exciting' as a new shop opening in Diagon Alley. He paid and thanked the barman before licking the overflowing froth off his fingers, emitting a small moan at the taste.

Finding an empty table by the window and settling down to enjoy his drink, Harry idly looked out at the rain and thought back to the last couple of months. So many things had changed; his newfound friendship with Pansy the main one. She had simply cornered him at the office one day and demanded that Harry join her for a drink. After a very awkward conversation, where a very embarrassed Harry mumbled about not liking girls, Pansy had laughed, patted him on the arm and told him to meet her at the end of the day in the Leaky Cauldron. It had spiralled from there; she was tenacious. But she had turned into a good friend, a lot of fun and was a welcome addition to their little group.

Harry turned away from watching the unwelcome rain to see if his friends had arrived. He turned slightly to scan the pub and froze. He adjusted his glasses and shook his head, but it was no apparition. Draco fucking Malfoy was sat across the room from him.

Harry hadn't seen him for months. He didn't even know that he was back in the country. Pansy had informed him that Malfoy had taken himself off to France to study something. Harry hadn't really been listening to the details. He had been too worried about not seeing his secret crush for Merlin-only-knows how many months.

Taking a sip of his beer and peeking surreptitiously through his hair, Harry studied the man. Malfoy's hair was gorgeous. It always had been striking, but the sun in the south of France had obviously added a new sheen to it. The light bounced off the now golden locks. Harry wanted to touch. He wanted to run his fingers through it; he wanted to tug it.

Where the fuck had those thoughts come from? And, more importantly, what was that on his face?

Draco Malfoy had grown a beard. And fuck – he looked bloody good. Harry had forsaken shaving in recent months in an attempt to look even a little bit different, but he knew he looked scruffy with a beard. It didn't matter how many times the girls fawned over him or tried to run their hands over the hair on his face; he knew he just looked a mess.

Malfoy did not. It suited him. Fuck – it more than suited him; it completed him. The hair was slightly darker than the hair on the top of his head; it gave Malfoy a distinguished, and just downright sexy, air about him.

It was all that Harry could do to stop himself bounding over the table, wrapping his hand around Malfoy's neck and licking the facial hair. He wanted to feel the stubble under his tongue; he wanted to rake his teeth through the thicker hair on his chin. He wanted to do this while tugging on Malfoy's hair.

Harry ducked his head back down before the object of his desires could notice his staring; he took another gulp of his beer and shifted slightly on the hard, wooden chair. How the fuck was he so turned on by just looking at the man?

In an attempt to rid himself of his burgeoning erection, Harry glanced around the pub. It was no good; his traitorous eyes travelled straight back to Malfoy. Even his clothes screamed 'sex'. Harry couldn't see the bottom half as Malfoy was sat at a table, but his upper body was wrapped in quite a tight fitting shirt. He could only imagine the fantastic arms hidden beneath the black fabric.

Dragging his eyes away once again, Harry drank some more of his beer and looked at his watch. Where were the girls? They were late; very late. The girls were never late. Taking another quick look at Malfoy, something clicked inside of Harry's mind. How convenient – what were the chances of both him and Malfoy being in the same pub at the same time? Thinking back to previous conversations with Pansy, Harry remembered the twinkle in her eyes whenever they had mentioned Malfoy.

Maybe his secret crush wasn't so secret after all.

Running his hand over his beard, Harry determinedly looked back out at the rain. He nodded to himself and gathered all the courage his beating heart could muster. Harry looked up and straight at Malfoy. He nearly jumped when Malfoy opened his eyes and stared back at him.

His heart did jump when he recognised the look of pure lust being shot in his direction.