Hi all! The new chapter is here! Thanks so much for all of your reviews! I loved hearing what you guys thought about the story. I especially loved hearing what you guys thought was going to happen. Please keep it coming. I've never had so many people read any of the stories I've written so far (to be fair, I wrote them a long time ago under a different name...and they were even more amateur than this one), so just the one chapter has been awesome in terms so far. Anyway, I hope you like the new chapter. Please leave more reviews!

Draco sat up in the bed, setting a pillow against the headboard and leaning back to feel the soft, gray silk of the pillowcase against his back. The long green curtains were pulled back, and as he looked out, Draco could see the tops of apartment buildings laid beyond the patio like elevated tiles. He crossed his legs, pulling part of the blanket over his lap. Reaching over to the nightstand, he took a long drink of water.

"You're not hung-over, are you?"

Draco looked over at the door. A tall muscular figure made it's way over, sliding slowly into the mass of sheets and tangled blanket.

Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed before taking another sip. "Hungover? Really, Blaise? I haven't been hungover since like high school."

"You were hungover after your 21st birthday."

"Everyone knows that 21st birthdays don't count. Besides, you and Pansy practically force-fed me those shots" Draco pointed out. "Everything that happened as a consequence of that night was your fault, not mine."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at that. "Even the puke all over my backseat?"

"I like to think of it as retribution."

"Your biological warfare cost me a ridiculous amount of money."

"Well, it's not vengeance if I don't make you suffer. Besides, you get enough money from your endorsements to buy like ten new cars a year."

"Draco Malfoy," Blaised laughed, "missing the point for almost twenty four years!"

"Blaise Zabini," Draco shot back, "harping on the same point for three…."

Blaise lay on his back and laughed again, folding his hands behind his head. He looked over at Draco, "You know, you took up the entire bed again. I don't see how every time we sleep together, you manage to take over the entire bed."

"Out of a sample size of the four times that we've slept together, you're trying establish a general trend about my behavior?"

"Hey! Don't try any of your smart-person Jedi mind tricks on me! I was freezing last night."

If Blaise was looking for an apology, he was clearly asking it from the wrong person. Draco merely suggested, "Sleeping with clothes helps."

"Do I need to remind you that this is my bed?"

"And it is a marvelous bed," Draco said, smoothing his hands over the sheets for emphasis, "But I don't quite see how that's relevant."

Blaise just rolled his eyes, turning over onto his stomach. "I don't know why I bother." He folded a pillow underneath him, crossing his arms underneath and laying his head on top.

Draco let his eyes drift down Blaise's back, admiring the way the dark muscles twisted and flowed together as Blaise adjusted his position. "You know, I don't see why you're a goalie. You were a great midfielder in high school."

Blaise turned his head to look at him. "Times change. Sometimes a change of position is required. Besides," he grinned, "I don't like being told that I can't use my hands when balls are at stake."

"Oof," Draco winced," that was a little heavy on the double entendre front."

"I know, I know," Blaise conceded, "I just try to get it all off at once, but then everyone ends up disappointed."

"Really, Blaise? You decided that the best way to deal with awkward euphemisms was to add some more?"

"Face it, Draco, we didn't start having sex because of my eloquence."
"No, if I recall correctly, it was a shared sense of desperation."

Blaise snorted into his pillow. Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed, but he didn't get up. He just sat there, not focusing on any of the thoughts that had been building up in the back of his mind. Blaise's voice broke the silence. "You're really going to do it, aren't you." Draco turned his head a fraction of an inch, as if to place Blaise in his peripheral vision. He didn't say anything though. Blaise waited for Draco to break the silence with a response, but when it didn't happen, he realized that he would have to force the conversation. "You're going to marry Harry."

Draco just shrugged. "I don't know yet. My parents gave him a week to decide, so he's still got a few days left to make up his mind."

"But if he says yes," Blaise replied, the realization of what Draco said fully hitting him, "you're going to marry him."

"Yeah."

"So we probably won't be having sex anymore."

"Probably not."

"But you will be having sex with Harry."

Draco turned his head so suddenly that he almost destroyed something in his neck. The beginning indications of a sneer were starting to cross his face. "What!"

"Well," Blaise replied calmly, turning onto his back and staring at the ceiling in thought, "you're going to be married. To Harry. And people who get married usually have sex."

"Not always." Draco's response reeked of the sort of nonchalance that people only put on when trying to hide their complete disgust with a certain prospect.

"No, Draco, I'm pretty sure they do. At least once."

"Well, I'm sure we'll do just fine without it, "Draco replied, trying to mask the hint of tension in his voice, "I've known plenty of people who get married who don't have sex."

"How many of those people are happy about their marriage?"

"What does happiness have to do with it?" Draco's voice was cold, but it was the most calm he had sounded in the last minute of conversation. Whatever it was that he had deluded himself into thinking about his impending sex life, he had no qualms about admitting the reality of what he expected from his marital arrangement. After all, he had reasoned long before this conversation, no marriage he had witnessed functioned happily. His father's long work hours and his mother's numerous prescriptions seemed testimony to that. But at least his parents were able to present a unified front when called upon. Draco had seen enough philandering spouses in flagrante and met enough mistresses when significant others were away to appreciate that his parents could treat each other respectfully in public.

"What about kids?" Blaise was still staring at the ceiling, piecing together all of the technicalities of Draco and Harry's potential marriage as if it were some sort of incredible hypothetical situation that needed to be explored to its most absurd ends. "I mean, presumably you guys will have an heir of your own at some point. It's not like you can get married off to another guy when Harry's time is up."

"Adoption." Draco smiled pityingly at the unknown future child, "We're going to take some poor kid in and then screw him up so that he can be a proper member of our family."

"That's what families are for, even without adoption. Besides, it seemed to work for Harry…the whole 'take in an orphan and make him a Malfoy.'"

Draco snorted. "It's not like he didn't have family taking care of him. We didn't take him in. My parents—"

"—just took care of him like he was their own son?" Blaise gave Draco a knowing look that Draco tried to shrug off. "Well, it seemed to do him good. Remember when he first started at our school? His uniform barely even fit him, he was that skinny. Four years of being on scholarship through the Malfoy Corporation and working for the company, he morphed into one particularly well-toned senior."

"That was the soccer," Draco mumbled, "and the end of puberty. Not the parents."

"So you admit that he was particularly well-toned?" Blaise was grinning at Draco mischievously. "I mean, I never wanted to say it to you in high school because I knew you would punch me in the face, but he was very spectacularly built."

"What makes you think I won't punch you in the face now?"

"Because if you do," Blaise replied, his grin growing, "I'm going to accuse you of defending your fiancé's honor."

At the sound of Blaise saying the f-word, Draco froze. It was one thing to acknowledge that he might have to marry Potter, but referring to him as his fiancé made Draco realize just how much their relationship would change. As a knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach, Draco was forced to consider that Potter might one day be his husband, and that he would have to refer to him as such and not as some former high school classmate who worked for his dad. It was silly, he thought, that one word could make such a difference, especially when it was obvious that if Potter agreed, they would be engaged as fiancés and married as husbands. But Draco had put that thought so far away in the back of his mind that only now, caught off-guard by the casualness of his current situation, did he begin to consider again for the first time since that fateful meeting what it would be like to be married to Potter.

And he had thought about it. He had spent that whole night barely able to sleep because he couldn't stop thinking. When his parents had told Potter their plan, Potter had just gaped open-mouthed as if all intelligent thought had evacuated his brain. Not that Draco acknowledged the existence of any intelligent thought residing anywhere within Potter's skull. Draco had tried to pretend to himself that he had heard wrong, that his parents hadn't just decided that having him marry Potter. Of course, Draco knew that on the surface, it was a good idea. Clearly, Potter was the only person they would trust with the corporation. He had proven to be more competent than Draco cared to admit, and he had the trust of the most influential shareholders. Draco still remembered attending events when he was in high school where some doddery executive would walk up to him and ask him where his "charming friend from school" was. Even at the party, Draco had seen just how easily Potter blended in with the businessmen and their wives. Potter had looked like he should have some glamorous supermodel hanging off his arm as he talked about stocks and interest rates and investments and whatever else guys like him talked about.

Caught up in the turmoil of his thoughts, Draco didn't hear Blaise behind him, asking if everything was ok. Something about the influx of repressed thoughts coupled with the awareness of Blaise's voice made Draco snapped,. "Look, I don't really want to talk about this anymore."

Even if he didn't realize why the sudden shift in tone had happened, Blaise could sense Draco's rising anger. "Fine, fine. If you don't want to talk about it, I'm not going to make you. I just don't understand why you're going through with it. " Draco turned away when Blaise said this, not wanting to see the concerned look on his friend's face. "It's not like your parents would force you to marry him...would they?"
"There's nothing to understand."

"Really? Are you sure?" Blaise's expression had become defiantly skeptical. "Because he last time I checked, I was the one who would have to keep you guys from physically destroying each other in soccer practice in high school."

"We were just pushing each other."

"Yeah, we all know just how much you two were pushing each other."

Draco stood up and turned around again, frustration etched across his face. "What are you trying to get at, Blaise? Are we turning this into some therapy, self-improvement fuck session now? Because if we're going to talk about our personal issues, I think we should stop talking about something that might not even happen and maybe focus on your problems."

Blaise sat up, angry at the implications of Draco's words and yet afraid he had pushed Draco too far. But before he could say anything, Draco had already left the room, gathering some of his clothes as he left. Blaise sighed and got out of the bed, following Draco into the hallway. Draco had already put his boxers and shirt on. He was looking around the room, trying to find whatever remaining articles of clothing were left.

"Your pants might have gotten thrown into the coat closet." Draco didn't respond, but he walked quietly over to the closet and found his pants in a crumpled mess underneath a few fallen hangers. "Look, Draco, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset. I just want to know that you're ok."

Draco just sighed and leaned against the door. "Of course I'm not ok. But I will be. I mean, I knew this was coming, whether it was him or some other person my parents wanted me to marry. And as far as people my parents were probably considering, he's not the worst they could have done."

"I just still don't even understand why they were considering anyone." Blaise tried to keep his voice from rising. "In high school, you used to make fun of things like marriage. And now, you're talking about getting married as if it's completely out of your control."

"Look, Blaise, I know you mean well," Draco replied, his voice carrying a defeated tone that Blaise had rarely heard come out of his mouth, "but this is one of those things that I really don't want to talk about. If Potter says he is willing to go through with this, then we're going through with it."

"Ok, fine, but if you ever need someone to come talk to—"

"—I'll know better than to go to you."

"Exactly."

The pair smiled each other, silently acknowledging that this would probably not happen again, even if Potter didn't accept the Malfoys' offer. Draco looked at Blaise, "You should tell him, you know," knowing better than to name Blaise's person of interest, "We could keep fucking for as long as it suits us, but you're not getting anywhere by torturing yourself about whether or not this guy wants you."

"Draco, now we're moving on to the part of the conversation that I don't want to participate in."

"That's fine, I could carry it out myself. 'Blaise loves someone.' 'No, really?' "Yeah, but he's afraid because even though he's a big, studly soccer star, he thinks he doesn't stand a chance with the other big, studly soccer star.'"

"Ha ha ha, Draco."

Draco smiled sheepishly, "Look, you were the one who made me consider the prospect of having sex with Potter. I'm just getting my revenge."

"Oh, you and your fucking revenge." Blaise was smiling though.

"You know, I'm only inviting you to the wedding if you ask him to be your date."

"Very well, then." Blaise put a hand to heart and stated dramatically, "But when my heart has been broken into a thousand pieces, I will make sure to get very wasted at your wedding and hit on your new husband."

"Oh god, please do."

…..

Harry had spent most of the day taking care of mindless tasks, trying to keep his mind off the question that had kept him up ever since the party at the Malfoy's mansion. He had nearly snapped at three secretaries who had made the huge mistake of committing minor errors in their presentation of various files that Harry needed to use. He'd even come close to pushing an intern who had gotten between him and his cup of coffee. These were only a few of the challenges to Harry's patience that had reminded him that there was something drastically wrong with his world, and that wrong was named Draco Malfoy.

Ok, well, technically, Malfoy hadn't done anything wrong, but Harry was pissed that this incredibly fateful decision he had to make seemed to revolve around the one guy he had thought he had escaped all interaction with. Maybe they would have to see each other at gatherings, force some small talk about their families, and then pretend the whole thing never happened—that was the most Harry had ever expected out of his future interactions with Malfoy. But marriage? It was safe to say that Harry had never even considered that.

But the realization that he was even considering the idea was what made Harry's chest tighten and mind shut down. He knew what it meant to Lucius to have Harry as his successor. It meant that he could rest easily knowing that his company would be handed down to someone who knew what he was doing. It meant that he could avoid the inevitable internal civil war that would arise if Lucius was forced to turn to other branches of his family to find someone suitable for the job. It meant the security of Malfoy Corporation, and the corporation had meant enough to Harry for him to not immediately reject the proposal.

Before Malfoy Corporation, Harry had just been a lonely kid whose parents had died before he could even remember. The aunt and uncle who had taken him in had made sure that he knew just how unwanted he was, parading him in public only when they wanted guests to coo over how generous and caring they were for taking in their orphan nephew. Harry knew better than to tell the guests that the only function he served in the Dursley household was as a free living punching bag for his cousin, Dudley, to practice on. All of that had changed when he had applied for a scholarship for a private school through Malfoy Corporation.

It had been Sirius' idea actually. His godfather had taken care of him, even if he wasn't allowed to actually take care of him in the way that would have really helped Harry, and he was the one who had made Harry believe that he had a shot at the scholarship. Harry had applied, mostly out of desperation. Hermione was going to be going to a magnet school, one that he didn't have a chance at getting into based on his test scores at the time. She was one of his few friends, and the prospect of facing high school with Dudley and without her had made Harry want to freeze time so that he wouldn't have to face the future he was so terrified of.

The scholarship offered a chance for a different future. In return for the full tuition going towards this school, Harry would have to agree to intern with the company through his high school years and then to work for at least two years after graduation. A tear-inducing essay about his upbringing and a few interviews later, and Harry had found himself dressed in the crisp uniform of Slytherin Academy, the school's logo embroidered in green and silver against the black blazer. All he had to do now was keep his grades up and put in the work at the office, and Harry would be able to keep the scholarship.

But the scholarship had done more for Harry than he had ever expected. Not having to rely on his aunt and uncle for money to afford school things gave him a sort of freedom he had never experienced before. He no longer had to try and find the least terrifying time to confront Uncle Vernon and ask for a few dollars so that he could get the supplies he needed for school. He didn't have to ask Aunt Petunia for new clothes that always ended up being Dudley's latest cast-offs, which were always five sizes too big for Harry's slight frame. His scholarship afforded him the supplies and uniforms he needed, and it also provided him with a stipend that he could spend as he saw fit.

In this new school, Harry had thrived. He no longer had to deal with a school full of people who were terrified of his cousin. In fact, this new school had the sort of kids who even Dudley would quake in the presence of. It wasn't that they were bigger or stronger, but most of them had grown up knowing that the world would operate under their machinations. Physical strength might be able to knock them over, but in the end, it wouldn't beat them because they would all grow up to be powerful enough for a measly punch to be easily forgotten.

It was amazing what the removal of bullying during school hours had done for him. Harry could focus on his work in class without worrying about the walk back to his locker. He could do his homework without having to give all the correct answers to Dudley first. His aunt and uncle had held him in awe from that point onwards, afraid of the power and might implied by the corporation backing Harry's scholarship. Even if he was still an unwanted blemish in their household, he was a blemish that had a prestigious scholarship and a job at a company that Uncle Vernon would cut off his right arm to have some semblance of a contract with. All of this meant that he didn't have to put up with Dudley's bullying much at home either.

But it wasn't just the removal of physical threats that had made Harry's life better. Slytherin Academy had given him new friends and a feeling of belonging. For the first time, Harry could be a part of something that was bigger than him. He could be part of sports teams and school clubs. He could compete with people on his side or against them. Of course, the only person he had really competed with was Malfoy.

Ever since they had first met at a small luncheon held by the Malfoys on behalf of their scholarship winner, Harry and Malfoy had their rivalry cut out for them. Malfoy had barely acknowledged him through the whole event. But Harry had been willing to dismiss all of that, write it up to some sort of shyness on Malfoy's part. Of course, that didn't really fit with the easy confidence displayed by the blond heir as he smiled silkily at the other members of their party. And Harry could still recall the firm grasp of the cool hands that matched the harsh glare Malfoy had shot at him when they first met. No, shyness wasn't the explanation.

Later during that luncheon, Harry had gotten lost in the mansion, only to find himself in a massive library. Draco was leaning against a shelf of books, talking to two kids who Harry would later come to know as Crabbe and Goyle. Harry saw them from across the room, but they didn't seem to have noticed him. He was debating whether or not to step forward and introduce himself again when he heard Malfoy say his name and "my parent's latest charity case" in the same sentence. Harry didn't remember what else was said after that, only that Malfoy had looked past his two cronies to stare straight at Harry and smirk. The asshole had smirked at him, the first of what would be many smirks throughout their high school years.

And that's when Harry became aware that he and Malfoy would never be friends. From that point forward, Harry and Draco would compete with each other in anything they could find. They never acknowledged it, but they didn't have to. In class, on the soccer field, at their respective internships in the corporation: Harry and Draco had managed to turn anything into yet another battle in their long war.

But being a part of Malfoy Corporation had given Harry enough to be able to overlook whatever anger Draco incited in him. The company had given him the ability to not just be his own person, but to be more than he had known he could be. For the first time, he wasn't just some useless, bullied kid. He was someone who did impressive work and who earned respect from people whose respect meant something. And Harry liked the work that he did. The company developed electronics, and working at a place where new technologies were being discovered and manufactured excited him. Knowing that he was a part of this whole process and that his actions had real influence made Harry feel satisfied in a way that he knew many people were not when it came to their careers.

The question now was whether or not this satisfaction was worth the prospect of being married to Malfoy. Harry hadn't thought about marriage, having never found himself in a relationship that he thought was meaningful to have last a lifetime. The idea of having to live with Malfoy for the rest of his life made Harry more than a little uncomfortable. But the weirdest thing of all to Harry was that the decision seemed to be entirely on him, as if Malfoy's opinion was irrelevant. Malfoy had made his anger with the whole situation well-known during their meeting, but that was before Lucius had actually stated outright what said situation was all about. After that, Malfoy had shut up. He'd returned to his shelf behind Harry, and just stood there. Harry had often wished for Malfoy to lose the ability to speak, but in that moment, his silence terrified Harry. If Malfoy had argued and yelled and fought, maybe Harry would find his decision easier. But that complacency and resignation made it difficult for Harry to process everything that was going on. He had spent the past few nights wavering back and forth between his two choices, sometimes considering the possibility that maybe marriage to Malfoy would be worth the good it would do for the company that meant so much to him, and then in other moments deciding that marriage could only result in Malfoy or him murdering each other.

The office Harry was currently occupying was a temporary situation until he made his decision, but he still had work to do—and the work was proving to be an occasionally capable distraction from the real issues that were bothering him. But at that moment, work was not enough to keep him from torturing himself over his dilemma. The phone rang, snapping Harry out of his latest reverie. A bright female voice told him to go to Lucius' office, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just interrupted the thought process of a very angst-ridden employee. He set aside the files that had been carelessly strewn across his desk, and stood up, making his way over to Lucius' office. When he got to the office, a well-dressed secretary let him in.

"Ah, Harry, thanks for coming on such short notice," Lucius stated as Harry walked into the room. "I've been really busy lately, but I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Of course. I've just been looking over some of the numbers for the Nimbus deal."

"Oh, great, great. Ok, well, unfortunately, I don't have much time. I have a flight to Hong Kong in an hour," Lucius tapped his watch for emphasis. "But I just wanted to check in and ask if you had given any thought to the proposal Narcissa and I made."

Any thought? Harry had to keep himself from laughing at just how absurd that statement was given the reality of just how many conflicting thoughts were in his head. Instead, he just replied, "Um, yeah, I've thought about it a little. I still don't really know though…."

"Oh, no, of course not. Don't worry, I don't want to force you to make a decision right now." Harry sighed internally in relief. "But Narcissa and I recognize that we are putting a lot of pressure on you with this. We would love to give you more time, but unfortunately we can't." Harry wanted to ask why he couldn't have more time, but Lucius' tone made it sound like this was a matter that didn't concern Harry…which was strange considering that the whole matter definitely did concern him. "Anyway, we were thinking that maybe it would be helpful if you and Draco got to know each other better. You two haven't seen each other for a long time, so it might be good for you to maybe spend an evening in each other's company."

"Um, yeah…that sounds like a good idea." Harry didn't mention that it sounded like a terrible idea. A whole evening in Malfoy's company? That sounded like a recipe for a fucking disaster. But how are you supposed to tell your boss that you hate his son with the passion of a thousand fiery suns and that you are likely to spend the evening trying to make him disappear using the power of your mind…but that you're still considering the idea of marrying him?

Lucius didn't seem to hear any of Harry's deep abiding hatred for Draco in his voice. He continued on as if Harry had just said that spending an evening with Draco was the best evening he had ever heard of. "Great! We reserved a table for you two tonight at 7 pm, at Chez Pierre."

"Oh, you meant tonight?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Er…no. Um, that's fine."

"Ok, great. We'll send a car to pick you up."

And that was that. Harry was going to be going on a date with Draco. He hated himself for the fact that his first thought was, "What am I going to wear?"

…..

A date? With Potter? Malfoy had checked his phone several times to make sure that it was working properly when his father had sent him the text message. What was it with his parents and sending him terrible news about Potter via text message anyway?

He hadn't had class that day, hence the evening prior spent at Blaise's. But he had gone in to lab to run a few experiments, only to have them almost literally blow up in his face. He'd come home early, hoping that maybe he could watch TV and that a few crappy reality TV shows later, the day would suck a little bit less. But no, of course that wasn't going to happen.

He still had a few hours until he had to head over, but now that this date was all that he could think about, he found himself contemplating the best outfit to convey, "I hate you and don't think you're worth my time or effort, but I can dress better than you." He had just decided on the shirt when a knock sounded on the door. Looking out of the peephole, he saw two big men in suits who he hadn't seen in a while.

"Crabbe? Goyle?" Draco asked after opening the door, "What are you guys doing here?" The two men walked in, scanning Draco's living room and looking at his various textbooks that were lying across the coffee table like they were the most terrifying objects in the world. "You guys? I think this is the point where one of you should say something."

"Er….right…yeah," Crabbe stammered out, looking at Goyle in the hopes that he would elaborate. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well, Crabbe. But I highly doubt that you came all the way over here to ask me how I am."

Goyle spoke up this time. "Well…er…we heard that your dad is going to make you marry Potter so that he can be the CEO."

"Where did you hear that?"

"We just…heard."

"Well, it's been mentioned," Draco replied, "but it's not official."

"But we don't want it!" Goyle stated this with more passion than Malfoy had realized he was capable of. But he realized that he shouldn't be surprised. Crabbe and Goyle had started working at Malfoy Corporation because their fathers did, but that was the only qualification they held. Potter had been responsible for cutting a significant amount of their budget, something that had resulted when he discovered that they were spending the money on a large number of personal expenses. It was only through the most tenuous of connections that they had been able to keep their jobs.

Malfoy glanced coolly between the two of them, feeling an awful like he had in high school when he had been the head of their little posse. "So what do you want from me?"

Crabbe spoke up this time. "Well, don't you want to be CEO?"

Malfoy paused for a few seconds before he replied "Do you want me as your boss?"

"Well…," Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, gaining confidence, "yeah."

"And do you think anyone else wants me to be the CEO one day?"

"Um…er…we've talked to a few people…."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I hope you haven't talked to anyone who can get you into trouble…."

Crabbe and Goyle emphatically shook their heads. "Oh no…no, no. Just the ones who don't like Potter either. And you don't like him either!"

"So what? Do you have a plan or something? Or were you just planning to form a support group about how much you hate Potter? Are you here to recruit me as a member?"

"We have a plan. To make you CEO."

Draco looked between the two of them, contemplating whether or not the two were actually capable of coming up with a real plan . Then he smiled at them, "Ok then, let's hear all about how you're going to make me boss."

…

Harry adjusted his tie again. Looking around and then reminding himself that no, there was no one else in the hotel room, he performed a quick sniff check on his armpits. He might not want to smell good for Draco, but he didn't want to smell bad either. The last thing he needed was for Draco's sneer to get even bigger. "Ok," he mumbled to himself, "I guess this is it."

He took the elevator down and got into the car. As the driver took him to the restaurant, Harry tried to come up with a list of reasons that he couldn't make it. Maybe the car would get stuck in traffic. Maybe they would get into a terrible-but-not-dangerous crash. Maybe one of his friends would call him with some sort of emergency that would require his immediate attention. But no, there was no traffic or crash or emergency.

Malfoy was already at the restaurant. Harry's eyes went right to him as soon as he entered. He was sitting down, scanning a wine list with only a mild look of approval. He was wearing a white shirt with a red tie, giving the sense that he never had to put any effort into looking as he good as he always did. Harry found himself looking down at his tie, unsure of whether or not he had really chosen the best outfit for the night. Malfoy looked up and noted Harry's arrival, returning to his perusal of the wine list a few seconds later as if Harry's presence was unnecessary for the night's proceedings.

Well, Harry thought, this will be fun.

...mwahaha...cliffhangers for everyone! How will the date go...what are Crabbe and Goyle up to...what is Malfoy doing?

I hope you all liked it, but let me know what you think! Seriously, I love the theories people posted for the first chapter, and I'd love to hear more about what you guys think Harry and Malfoy are going to do.