A/N: In which first dates are had, feelings are confessed, kisses are initiated, and Muggle clothing is worn.

(pre-p.s. Just wanna say real quick that I have been absolutely loving all the positive feedback I've been getting so far on the banter between the three Slytherins, and I just wanted to confess before we started that a lot of their conversations in this story are actually loosely based on real-life conversations I've had with my housemates. Haha, the five of us are all incredibly mature and well-mannered human people, if you couldn't tell from the dialogue. The friendship of the Slytherins is more or less inspired by my own friendships with the filthy-minded, foul-mouthed, obscenely profane, hopelessly crass, gin-soaked chain-smoking headbanging dirty bastard metalheads I live with. They are some insane fucking assholes and I just love those cunts to pieces :) And now the story may begin.)


Chapter 3

"I can't believe you actually have a date with Potter," Pansy said for what must surely have been the sixteen-billionth time that week; Draco wished he had thought to keep track.

"Um," Draco raised one eyebrow impatiently, "I think what you mean to say is 'I can't believe Potter is lucky enough to have a date with Draco'."

"I don't think that's what I actually meant though," Pansy smirked, and Draco threw a sock at her, wishing it was a dirty one.

"Well he definitely thinks so," Draco sniffed, combing his hair for what surely must have been the seventy-third time that day; he wished he had thought to keep track of that one as well. "You should have seen how excited he was when he tracked me down to tell me about the Muggle shop he picked for us."

"Has he really never been clothes shopping before?" Blaise asked incredulously, for what surely must have been the seventeenth time in the last hour; Draco didn't really care about keeping track of that one, to be honest.

Draco turned an impatient gaze on the other boy. "I've already told you a hundred times, no."

"Well, I mean, that makes sense and I definitely believe it," Blaise shrugged, "considering the fact that I do have eyeballs and have seen the clothes he wears. Still, though…to be eighteen and never actually own your own clothing? I don't know if it'll ever make sense to me, no matter how many times I hear it."

"Maybe you could get him a haircut too, while you're out," Pansy suggested, reapplying her lipstick in the mirror Draco was meant to be getting ready in after rudely nudging him to the side. "I mean, if you're meant to start dating and start appearing in public together, I think you should go for the full-on makeover and at least make him someone you would want to be seen in public with."

"His hair is fine," Draco defended, surprised to find that he actually preferred Harry's hair the way it was—long and unkempt, wild and unmanageable. It gave him an intense, almost casually dangerous sort of air, a sort of careless disregard for his attractiveness that was somehow even more attractive to Draco than extreme fastidiousness in a person. Draco liked how it made him seem as though he honestly could not care what other people thought of him or his appearance, a strangely attractive quality, especially for someone like Draco to find in any way appealing, considering how much of his time he spent worrying about what others thought of his appearance. A small smile curved his lips as he remembered the look on Potter's face when Draco had confessed to finding his hair pretty. It had been such an endearing, almost innocent sort of wonder, as though the boy had never imagined anything like that ever being said to him. It had the annoying effect of making Draco want to find other things to compliment him about, just to bring that pleased expression back to his face.

At Draco's words, a strange look crossed Blaise's face, and he sat up to peer at Draco in silence.

"So what's the whole plan for the day?" he said finally, still looking at Draco oddly, and Draco decided that combing his hair for the seventy-fourth time was much more preferable than looking at Blaise's weird face.

"Well, I'm not actually sure," Draco admitted, elbowing Pansy out of the way so he could fix his hair and adjust his clothing. Draco had borrowed some of Blaise's Muggle clothing that they had picked out together from the entire wardrobe-full that Blaise had purchased the previous summer when he decided to go through a rebellious phase against his mother's strict new husband, who was such an old-fashioned pureblood that even Draco had pitied Blaise, and the blond had grown up with Lucius Malfoy, for fuck's sake. Blaise had chosen a pair of black, almost painfully tight trousers for Draco, as well as a long-sleeved storm-grey shirt, the fabric soft and clingy and making Draco feel uncomfortable even though he liked the look of it on his lean—lean, not skinny, lean—frame. The blond was used to loose-fitting robes and clothing with multiple buttons, and this new tight buttonless Muggle clothing still felt odd to him.

"So you don't have anything else planned?" Pansy wondered, nudging Draco back out of the way of the mirror so she could fiddle with her bangs.

"I'm not sure," he repeated, feeling fierce nerves rush through him. Oh god, was he really about to go on a date with Potter? Did shopping even count as a date? What if he and Potter had nothing to talk about? What if it was awkward? What if somebody else thought Potter looked so good in his new clothing that they flirted with the brunet right in front of Draco? Would Potter expect Draco to react, or would he prefer Draco to concede to the surely superior flirting skills of whichever evil Muggle decided Potter was worth flirting with? Fuck, Draco had never been on a real date before! The Yule Ball with Pansy hardly counted!

A sigh reached his ears and he glanced over to find Blaise rummaging through his trunk. "Here," he said as he straightened and crossed the room, depositing a velvet bag in Draco's hand and staring at him as though expecting gratitude.

"Um…" Draco said in confusion, pulling open the strings of the bag to reveal strange coins and a small wad of weird folded paper. "What is this?"

Blaise snorted. "This is called money," he said slowly, shaking his head in amusement. "It's some of the Muggle money I had left over last year after all my shopping trips. I assumed that you wouldn't have thought about getting a few Galleons exchanged, and if this really is a date, you need to at least pay for something for Potter. I'm certain that he'll insist on buying his own clothing, but you can take him out to dinner afterwards or buy him a drink or something. I'm sure he'll help you figure out how to use it properly and what the numbers on the paper all mean."

"Oh," Draco said in surprise. He had not even thought about how the money part of the date would work. "Thanks, Blaise."

"Hey, I expect to be paid back for all of this," Blaise said seriously, and Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't mean in Muggle money, pay me back in Galleons, obviously."

"Yes, fine, whatever," Draco dismissed, tucking the small bag into the front pocket of his tight trousers with some difficulty. "How the bloody hell do Muggles keep anything on them in these blasted clothes? There's barely enough room for my cock in these trousers, let alone anything else! I can't even fit my sodding wand in them!" Draco gestured to his left forearm, where his wand was strapped to a holster hidden beneath the long sleeve of his borrowed shirt.

"Please don't talk about your cock being in my trousers," Blaise said with a grimace.

"Don't worry, Blaise," Pansy laughed, "it's just a matter of time before Draco's cock is out of your trousers and into Potter's."

The two boys stared at her. "What does that even mean?" Draco finally asked, exchanging a look with Blaise.

"Eh," Pansy shrugged, "I'm not actually sure."

"You do know that people don't have sex with their trousers on, right, Pans?" Blaise smirked, earning a glare from Draco.

"I'm not going to have sex with him, Blaise!" he insisted, feeling flushed at the thought. "Especially on the first bloody date! Merlin, what type of slag do you take me for? I'm not Pansy!"

"You should only be so fucking lucky," she shot back. "In fact, I can't even decide if you would be luckier to be me or to shag me. It's luck either way, as far as I'm concerned."

"What if he kisses me?" Draco suddenly asked, panic pulsing through him at the thought. "Oh god, what if he kisses me in front of Muggles?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "As if kissing in front of Muggles is any different from kissing in front of wizards."

"I've never been around Muggles!" Draco panicked even more—Christ, he had never been to the Muggle world before! What the hell was he doing? He couldn't go to the Muggle world; he had no idea how it worked! He had no idea how to act around Muggles or what he was and was not allowed to say! They were two completely separate worlds and he had no fucking idea what the rules were!

"It's fine, Draco," Blaise said soothingly, but the way he patted Draco on the head felt far too patronizing for the blond. "You'll be with Potter, he was raised in the Muggle world. He won't let you embarrass yourself. Just make sure that you don't say a single goddamn thing against Muggles that could be construed as bigoted. That is a man that does not tolerate intolerance. So just make sure that you are graciousness personified at all times and you'll be fine."

"I already know that, Blaise," Draco huffed. "Of course I'm not going to start insulting Muggles right in front of him, I'm not a fucking idiot."

"Hey, I didn't say you would do it on purpose," Blaise said with a shrug. "But just make sure that you don't spend the entire date comparing the Muggle world to the Magical one and telling Potter how inferior the Muggle world really is. If you can convince him that you've changed and show him that you've become a person now capable of being around Muggles and moving on from childhood prejudices that were instilled in you since birth, Potter will fall in love with you so hard that even Pansy and I will feel it all the way back here at the castle."

"Right," Draco nodded, inhaling several deep breaths. "I can do that; I can be around Muggles. I can speak to Muggles and be courteous. I'm a charming fucking bastard, damn it, I can do this." Draco would be so charming that by the end of the date, Potter would be even more in love with him than he already was.

"What time are you meeting him?" Pansy wondered, checking the time, and Draco panicked again.

"Oh, fuck, I need to leave in just a minute!"

"It's okay, Draco," Blaise soothed, grabbing him by the upper arms and speaking in a quiet voice. "It's going to be okay, I promise. You can do this, just remember to keep breathing. Potter already likes you, all you have to do is make him laugh and don't be too sarcastic and it won't even be a challenge to get him to fall for you."

"Right," Draco said, closing his eyes as he focused on breathing. "Right. I can be funny. I am funny, damn it. And charming. And witty. And definitely able to be around Muggles."

"Exactly," Blaise agreed, moving away from Draco and tossing something heavy at him. Draco caught it on instinct, opening his eyes and glancing down to find a black mass of strange fabric in his hands.

"Is this dragonhide?" he asked curiously, holding the thing up to look at it more fully.

"No," Blaise answered, "it's a leather jacket. It's their version of dragonhide, I suppose, but made from a different animal. Apparently, Muggle girls can't resist a bloke in a leather jacket, and I'm assuming that it's the same for bent Muggle blokes as well. Try it on, let's see how it looks."

Slipping the jacket on, Draco turned to eye himself in the mirror, surprised at how well the thing fit, even if it was a bit restricting. "It looks good," he commented in surprise, turning to see himself from every angle. "What animal is it made from?"

Blaise shrugged. "I don't know, a cow or a kangaroo or something, who knows. The point is, it looks good."

"Damn," Pansy agreed, "you might just be on to something there, Blaise. Now I want a bloke in a leather jacket."

Blaise grinned. "Potter's going to wet his fucking knickers when he sees you dressed like this, Draco, watch. Bet you a Galleon he won't even be able to speak for the first three minutes. And bet you another Galleon his eyes are going to pop right out of his head before you even say hi."

Draco blushed a little as he returned the grin. "I'd definitely wet my own knickers if I saw me dressed like this for a date with myself."

"What?" Pansy asked, sounding puzzled. "I'm not even sure if I know what that means."

"It means exactly how it sounds," Draco sighed. Poor simple Pansy.

"It means that Draco's planning on wanking over himself later," Blaise told her with a grin, and Draco glared. "Just make sure you take the jacket off before you wank about it, yeah? If you return my clothing with any spunk on them, I shall be very upset with you."

Draco glared harder.

"What if it's Potter's spunk he gets covered in?" Pansy snickered. "I thought that was the whole point of the plan."

"I already told you!" Draco protested, "I am not going to shag Potter on the first fucking date!"

"Not on the first one, huh?" Blaise laughed. "Which date do you plan on fucking him then?"

"I hate the both of you," Draco declared, glaring at the other two as the prats continued to laugh. "And I'm leaving right now. And I might even find better friends and never come back. And that will show you."

"Can I have your things if you never come back?" Pansy asked, in a voice far too casual for Draco's threat of never returning. She should be on her knees weeping at the very thought of him never returning, the heartless bitch!

"Touch them and die," he warned her, fixing his hair one last time before casting a breath freshening charm and spritzing some of his most expensive cologne on himself. And Potter better fucking appreciate that, Draco thought. He certainly did not use that particular brand of cologne for everyone.

"Good luck, Draco," Blaise grinned, lounging back on his bed. "Have fun in the Muggle world. Try to refrain from committing any genocide, yeah?"

"Have fun snogging Potter," Pansy smirked, and Draco rolled his eyes with a huff as he turned away. Lord, his friends could be irritating.

As he strolled from the common room and began the trek upstairs to meet Potter by the Entrance Hall, Draco felt his palms grow damp as his heart began to beat faster and faster with every step he took. Oh, Merlin in a fucking thong, was he really about to do this? Not unless I have a heart attack first, he thought wryly as his heart rate sped up even more.

Knees trembling as he drew closer to the main door, Draco gulped as he saw Potter standing up ahead, pacing nervously and appearing fidgety. The brunet froze the moment he noticed Draco walking toward him. His eyes grew wide and for a moment, Draco was afraid that they really were going to pop right out of his head, which would have been regretful. Potter's eyes were too pretty to end up on the floor. Plus, Draco would have had to pay Blaise a Galleon and that was just not on.

"Hi, Potter," Draco greeted shyly, coming to a halt less than an arm span away from the other boy.

Potter said nothing for over a minute, simply staring, eyes raking over Draco with unmistakable heat. "Hi," he finally said in a breathless voice. "I—hi. You look…nice." His face flushed red as he dropped his gaze to the floor. "I-I mean, you know, I've just never seen you wear Muggle clothes before. They look…really nice on you. Are they yours?"

"Thank you," Draco felt one corner of his mouth pull up in a smile. "And no, they're not. They're Blaise's, but I figured if we're going to the Muggle world, I may as well at least try to blend in."

"Right," Potter nodded, but Draco thought he looked a bit crestfallen. Had he been hoping Draco would show up in robes and make a fool of himself in public? "So, er, your boyfriend doesn't mind, then, you coming shopping with me?"

"Boyfriend?" Draco's forehead crinkled in confusion. "You mean Pansy?"

Potter barked a sharp laugh but his eyes still looked a bit sad. "No, I didn't mean Pansy. I meant Zabini."

"Blaise?" This time Draco's forehead crinkled in disgust. "He fucking wishes! Gross, Potter! That's like me asking you if you're shagging the Weasel!"

Potter laughed again. "I can't tell if you mean Ron or an actual weasel, but either way, ew."

"Good, now you understand the disgust I'm feeling at such a question," Draco informed him, nose wrinkling again at the thought of him being involved with Blaise.

"Well, I just—" Potter flushed, raking a hand through his hand as he shifted his weight between feet, "you two are always together, and I saw him kiss you in the Great Hall the other day, and…"

Draco shuddered, clenching his eyes shut at the horrid memory. "Urgh, don't remind me, Potter. That was an extremely traumatizing moment in my life, one that I've been actively trying to repress since it happened." He opened his eyes to find Potter looking sheepish. "So no, you're wrong, Blaise and I aren't together. He's the most heterosexual thing on the planet, to hear him tell it, so I don't really think my tits are impressive enough for him, to be frank."

"And what about you then?" Potter asked, a small grin lifting one corner of his mouth. "If he's the straightest thing in the world?

Draco opened his mouth to inform Potter that Blaise was only the second straightest thing in the world while Draco was still alive, but then closed it as he realized that he was meant to actually be on a date with Potter, who was obviously a man. And not a bad-looking one either. But of course I'm straight, Draco thought vehemently. Just because Blaise's stupid plan involved Draco seducing a man didn't mean that Draco was necessarily into men, right? It just meant that Blaise came up with stupid plans that had no actual bearing on reality.

"Erm…" Draco struggled to find a good enough answer to what was undoubtedly one of the most difficult questions he had ever been asked. "Well…I'm…"

"It's all right if you don't want to answer that," Potter said quickly, "that was a bit of a personal question, sorry."

"No, it's fine," Draco allowed, deciding on an answer he hoped would satisfy the brunet. "I just…don't particularly have a label for it. I'm not sure what word would fit best, I suppose, but…" he took a deep breath, wondering why he was so nervous about telling such a definite lie, "I don't base my attractions on gender. I'm attracted to what I'm attracted to, Potter, I don't limit myself or compartmentalize pleasure or persons. There's beauty everywhere, is there not?"

Damn. Draco knew for a fact that he was talking absolute bollocks and even he almost believed himself. Pride rushed through him as he smugly decided what a golden answer that really had been—it certainly made him sound like a very modern, very accepting sort of bloke.

Potter stared at him. "That's…not the answer I was expecting, to be honest. I don't think I've ever heard a Slytherin say something like 'there's beauty everywhere'."

Deciding the best way out of the strange situation would be to flirt his way free, Draco stepped closer, until he was only inches away from the other boy, peering up at him through golden eyelashes. "Well, I pity the ones who can't see the beauty in unexpected places."

Potter's breath caught as he stared at Draco, and Draco felt both terrified and smug at the way Potter's gaze kept falling to his lips. "I know what you mean," he agreed quietly, eyes searching Draco's face.

Draco cleared his throat. "Shall we get going then? I'll admit that I'm curious as to where we're headed."

Potter smiled widely. "I still can't believe you're willingly about to step foot into the Muggle world."

"What can I say, Potter?" Draco returned the smile. "I am a changed man."

"Yeah," the brunet said quietly, eyes once again studying Draco's face with a frightening intensity. "Yeah, you are."

And at Potter's obvious approval, Draco couldn't help the warm rush of pride that washed through him.


"I can't believe you just talked me into spending that much money on clothes," Potter stated, shaking his head with a grin. "I have never in my life spent that much money at one given time before."

"You needed a whole entire new wardrobe, Potter," Draco shook his head right back at the brunet. "You had no choice but to purchase that much. And now we have the extra special delight of burning all that hideous clothing you used to wear."

"Well, I mean, I could still wear some of it…" Potter protested, and Draco shook his head even harder.

"Burn it," he insisted. "Seriously. We're doing that the moment we get back to the castle."

"We are?" Potter looked suddenly delighted at the prospect of burning his old clothing. "I would've thought you'd be sick of my company by now."

"Who said I wasn't?" Draco smirked. "Maybe I just like burning things."

"Prat," Potter smiled, eyes glimmering. "I already told you, I'm delightful company."

Draco said nothing, only smiled back, sipping at his water as they waited for their food to arrive.

"I can't believe how much fun today has been, actually," Potter confessed shyly, staring down at the table. "I never imagined clothes shopping could actually be fun, and I never thought you and I could spend so much time around each other without a fist fight happening."

"There's still time, if you'd like to relive old times," Draco teased lightly, cursing himself for the way he couldn't help but smile at Potter like some sappy girl. Christ, what was the brunet doing to him? "You can punch me in the face and I can break your nose."

"Fun days, right?" Potter grinned ruefully, but there was a shadowed cast to his eyes that Draco did not like.

"I think I much prefer these ones," he said quietly, and the shadows fell from Potter's eyes as he nodded.

"Definitely these ones."

They were interrupted by the arrival of their food and they spent several minutes focusing on eating, both stealing glances at one another every so often. Draco was surprised at how good the food was—who knew Muggles could actually do something right? Maybe they weren't as helpless and barbaric as Draco had always assumed them to be. He and Potter chatted lightly as they ate, commenting on the clothing Potter had bought and what Draco thought of the Muggle world, answers he was always extra careful wording.

When the bill came, Draco surprised Potter by offering to pay.

"With what?" Potter chuckled. "They don't take Galleons here, you know."

Draco shot him a withering look. "I'm very well aware of that fact. I have Muggle money, of course."

"What?" Potter appeared downright shocked, and Draco couldn't help but laugh at the sight. "Where did you get Muggle money? I didn't even know you knew what Muggle money was!"

"I didn't say I did," Draco shrugged, "I just said I have some."

Potter gave him a strange, complicated look. "I must be dreaming," he finally declared. "None of this is even real, is it? This is all happening in my head and any second I'm going to wake up."

"Do you dream about me often?" Draco asked teasingly, curiously, and more than a bit seriously, the smile on his face growing at the sight of Potter's blush.

"I'm not admitting to anything that could come back to bite me," Potter said in a light voice, cheeks still red and lips still spread in a smile.

Draco took that to mean yes, of course I dream of you, Draco, every single night, because you're the smartest and most handsome and most seductive being I've ever seen in my life and I'm madly and passionately in love with you and want nothing more than to pledge my eternal love for you and remain by your side for the rest of forever. Draco was well aware of what Potter was really thinking, even if the Gryffindor hadn't been brave enough to voice the impassioned declaration aloud. Obviously in the face of such overwhelming love, Potter couldn't help but be nervous, and Draco could forgive Potter his reluctance to spout his—not so—secret heartfelt proclamations about how constantly consumed he was with romantic thoughts of Draco. It was certainly understandable, and Draco couldn't help but return Potter's shy smile as a reward for the brunet's clear adoration. They stared at one another for an entire century, and Draco began to feel a frantic need to break both the eye contact and the silence and accomplished both by reaching down to wrestle the velvet moneybag from his stupidly tight trousers.

Opening the bag, Draco pulled out the folded stack of strange paper. "Be useful now, Potter, and help me figure out this blasted Muggle currency."

Smiling, Potter leaned forward to help him, explaining what the different papers all meant.

"I don't understand why they would use something so fragile for money," Draco commented as they rose from their seats and prepared to leave the restaurant. "I feel as though I would constantly be worried it would get torn or damaged or wet or something. Gold is just so much more substantial, is it not?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," Potter grinned, hurrying ahead to pull the door open for Draco, who stared in surprise for a moment before offering him a genuine smile of thanks; had anybody ever held a door open for him before? "But paper money is a lot lighter and easier to carry around. And it's not as delicate as you seem to think."

"But how do you feel rich if one side of your body isn't always weighed down by a ridiculously heavy bag of gold?" Draco joked, feeling pride rush through him every time Potter chuckled.

Silence fell between them as they strolled down the Muggle street together, the buildings surrounding them lit with strange artificial light that made the windows glow yellow and jewel-bright, making the distant horizon appear strung with a winking gold necklace of glimmering illumination. Dusk had settled softly over everything, leaving just a sliver of the orange sun still peeking over the far hills. The sky was slowly fading from butterscotch to rose pink to deep cobalt like a painted lake of multicolored ripples stretched above their heads, reflected over the world and making everything appear softer somehow. Draco wasn't sure if they were headed anywhere specific or simply walking, but he certainly was not about to suggest they head back to the castle. It felt…nice, to walk down an anonymous Muggle street where nobody knew their names, where not everybody who passed gazed at Potter with unabashed adoration and Draco with undisguised scorn.

Glancing over, Draco watched as Potter's arm swung slightly as he walked, and he couldn't help but look down at the hand attached to it. Draco thought back to Blaise's words about holding hands with Potter in public, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to walk down a street like the one they were on holding hands with another person.

If only Draco was brave enough to find out.

"So," Potter's voice broke the stillness of the moment, startling the blond; the world had seemed so quiet despite the bustle of the noisy evening around them.

"So," Draco prodded, stepping closer to the other boy as another one of those damned deadly Muggle contraptions with four wheels sped past one side of him. Obviously, the evil Muggle operating it did that on purpose—it had been entirely too close to be an accident. Damn it, even the Muggles wanted to see him dead. What did I ever do to them? Draco thought crossly but then frowned as he pondered the question. Well, other than scorn them and belittle them and nearly get them all either enslaved or wiped out by following a genocidal maniac with no nose who liked to spend his time hissing at his giant pet snake. But Draco was clearly no longer that person and it wasn't fair that even the Muggles wanted to keep seeing him punished.

"So," Potter continued with a soft smile, maneuvering around Draco to take the side closest to the road and the strange four-wheeled death traps still zooming past him. He nudged the blond further toward safety and Draco couldn't help but stare in surprise, feeling his insides soften at the kind, unexpected gesture. Potter really was one hundred percent gentleman, wasn't he? "I have to ask you a question."

"All right," Draco allowed cautiously, feeling sudden fear grip him at the realization that Potter obviously did not consider this to be a date at all—he was only there to question Draco because he thought the blond was up to something evil. Draco felt his stomach drop in disappointment, wondering why he was so upset. It had never even been a real date anyway—Draco really was up to something evil. Potter had every right to be suspicious because Draco really was still every inch the manipulative bastard he had always been told he was. "What is it, Potter?" he sighed wearily, preparing himself to be yelled at, maybe even shoved in front of one of the terrifying Muggle boxes speeding past Potter's right side to be flattened into an attractive porcelain pancake and left to rot on the dirty black ground of an unknown Muggle street.

"Is this…" Potter hesitated, taking a moment to steel himself, "I mean…what is this?"

Draco stared at him in confusion. "Well," he said slowly, gesturing around the two of them with one arm, "this is a Muggle street. And those are Muggles," he pointed at several strangers passing, "and those things are dangerous Muggle weapons." He indicated the strange windowed boxes on wheels that he was still convinced were using magic to move that fast. He had always known Muggles were such liars—not having magic, honestly.

"They're called cars," Potter grinned, "and they're not weapons."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Look, Potter, I know that you were raised in the Muggle world, but you clearly don't know what you're talking about if you can't see that those things were clearly designed to kill. I mean, look how fast they're going! If I pushed you out in front of one, you would be flattened!" And what a horrid mental image that was; Draco couldn't help but shiver at the thought.

"Yes, but that's not what they're made for." The grin had not faded from Potter's face; if anything, it had only grown wider. "They're like…the Muggle version of traveling brooms, I suppose. They're only meant to get Muggles from one place to another quickly."

Draco stared suspiciously between the brunet and the dangerous cars, pondering what a strange word it was. Muggles were so bloody odd. "If they really wanted to get places quickly, they shouldn't have been born Muggles."

Potter barked a sharp laugh. "I don't really think they chose to be born that way so much as that's just how it ended up happening."

Draco shrugged. "Well, they shouldn't have chosen to be born with such misfortune."

"I don't think they're as miserable as you seem to think."

Draco shrugged again. "I suppose there's something to be said for bliss in the face of ignorance."

"We're getting a bit off topic here, Malfoy," Potter said wryly.

"Oh, was there a topic?" Draco asked in surprise, genuinely having forgotten what they had been discussing before the matter of Muggles was brought up. "I thought we were just commenting on the world and the general state of things."

"No, I…" Potter once again looked nervous. "I asked you a question."

"About Muggles?"

Potter sighed, but Draco could see him fighting a smile. "You were the one who brought up Muggles, Malfoy, my question had nothing to do with them."

"Did it not?" Draco thought back.

"No." A smile flashed across Potter's face before vanishing to be replaced by worry. "I asked you, you know, what this is."

Draco's nose scrunched up in confusion. He remembered now why he had brought up the subject of Muggles. "Is this not a Muggle street?"

"No!" Potter paused before he laughed ruefully at himself. "I mean, yes, it is. Obviously. But I was talking about this," he gestured between the two of them. "Is this…was this…is this a—date?" As the final word left his mouth, his face turned bright red, and Draco felt his own heart stop dead in his chest.

Was Potter really asking him to confirm that the day had indeed been intended as a date? Could something like this even really count as a date if neither of the participants had known or been certain about just what specifically it was?

"Would you like it to be?" Draco asked haltingly, afraid to answer the question.

"I—" A fierce blush spread across Potter's face, "I…maybe wouldn't not like it to be."

"Um…" Draco had to take a second to try to understand the convoluted workings of Potter's mind.

"I-I mean," Potter stammered, running a hand through his hair, "Hermione said it might be a date. And Ron said you were probably planning on luring me somewhere away from the castle to kill me. But—but we had fun today, didn't we? And if you're really not involved with Zabini, then…"

"You have to stop saying gross things," Draco frowned, "it makes it hard to concentrate on anything else whilst being too preoccupied fighting the urge to be sick all over everything in sight."

Potter grinned, face still red. "Sick at the thought of dating me or at the thought of being involved with Zabini?"

"Definitely the second one," Draco declared, cheeks pinking at the realization that he had basically said outright that the thought of dating Potter was not a disgusting thought. "I mean, you act like the entire world isn't dying to date you, Potter."

"Well, but…" Potter's face fell. "That's not why you're here though, is it? Just because of my name?"

The two questions made Draco drop his eyes to the ground in sudden burning shame, feeling guilt tear through his gut with the force of an angry hex. Oh god, that was exactly why Draco was there. He should confess. He should confess everything to Potter and then apologize profusely for being such a wanker and then plead bitterly for his life.

But what if he never speaks to you again? a voice whispered in Draco's mind, and Draco felt another slash of pain rip through him at the thought of Potter's angry, hurt expression, at the thought of Potter vanishing without a word and never again so much as glancing in Draco's direction.

No, he couldn't confess the truth to Potter, not if it would mean Potter turning his back on Draco like Draco so rightly deserved. Draco was far too Slytherin and far too selfish for such honesty.

"I'm here…" his brain scrambled for a good enough lie and decided instead to settle on a half-truth, "I'm here because I want to be."

"Yeah?" Potter asked in a hopeful voice, and Draco tried his best to swallow the guilt still rising in his throat.

"Yeah," Draco nodded uncomfortably. "But I'm not sure if you can really count clothes shopping as a date, you know."

"We had dinner," Potter grinned, sounding happy. "That you paid for."

"Well, I mean, I am wearing Muggle clothes for you," Draco allowed, "so that obviously has significance that should not simply be overlooked or ignored."

"Yeah, you are wearing Muggle clothes," Potter murmured, and Draco shivered at the look in Potter's eye as he raked his gaze over Draco's entire body. "I've tried to imagine you in Muggle clothes before, you know. But I never thought they would look like…"

"Like what?" Draco asked self-consciously, wondering if the trousers were too tight and looked ridiculous or if the supposed irresistible attractiveness of the leather jacket was really not so irresistible or attractive after all.

"Like…you know," Potter mumbled, gesturing at Draco as though that explained anything.

"What?" Now Draco needed to know. "Sexy, ridiculous, disgusting? What?"

Potter laughed a strange sort of strangled laugh. "Definitely not the last one. And definitely not ridiculous."

"Well, that's good then," Draco said cautiously, still feeling self-conscious.

Potter reached out to grab his shoulder, halting the two of them in the middle of the dusky Muggle sidewalk as he gazed at Draco with the classic trademark intensity that had come to be associated with Harry Potter. Nobody could do intense like Harry bloody Potter—the world's reigning King of Unmatched Intensity.

Draco shivered.

"Are you cold?" Potter asked in concern, appearing as though he was half a second away from taking off his own jacket to offer to Draco, who shook his head profusely. No number of jackets would be able to stop the shudders that seemed to run through him every time Potter's green eyes looked at him in such a way, as if Draco was the only thing in the entire world worth looking at.

"Look, I just…" Potter said without warning, sighing loudly and raking a hand through his hair. Draco noted absently that his fingers were trembling and his face was red. "Hermione told me I should just be upfront with you and tell you how I feel. And then Ron told me I should be upfront with you and punch you in the face. But his advice was stupid so I really think it's Hermione's that I should be focusing on."

"Right," Draco said slowly, glad to hear that Potter was not planning on punching him. It was always a good thing to not be punched; Draco loved not being punched. Not being punched was right up at the top of his "all-time world favorites list", right alongside being alive and not being imprisoned. "Well, you know, that's good. If this really is a date, I feel as though being punched might just kill the mood. Unless it was an angry-violent-punching mood you were aiming for."

Potter's lips twitched. "No, definitely no punching," he promised. "But I, er, did want to tell you…I mean, Hermione told me to tell you, and she's usually always right and she's definitely smarter than me, and definitely smarter than Ron, so she's the one I really should listen to, and I suppose I'm just too much of a goddamn Gryffindor not to at least try to tell you, and—"

"Tell me what, Potter?" Draco sighed in exasperation. Potter's babbling could certainly be endearing, but Draco was feeling far too anxious to allow it to run its natural course. They could be standing there on that darkening sidewalk all night if he didn't put a stop to it now.

"That I—" Potter's face was positively on fire now, "that I—I like you. I-I mean, I want this to be a date. If you want it to be a date. But if you don't, then, you know, that's fine too. I promise I won't decide to punch you if you decide right now that you'd rather not spend time with me after knowing about my—" he swallowed, "my feelings." The embarrassed, distasteful way he said the word made Draco laugh, although he regretted it immediately when Potter's expression turned hurt. "Right. I should probably be done humiliating myself now. Sorry for making this awkward. And, you know, thanks for dinner."

"Wait!" Draco snatched at his wrist. Was Potter really about to just leave like that? What kind of sodding Gryffindor was he? "You didn't even give me a chance to respond!"

"Oh, right." Potter's nose scrunched up as he realized that Draco was right. "So, erm, what is your response then?"

"Well…" Draco trailed off as he realized that he did not actually have any idea how to respond. Maybe he should have just let Potter run away; surely anything was better than being left to flounder uselessly the way Draco now was. "I…you really like me?"

Silently, Potter nodded, eyes dropping down to rest on his shoes before flicking back up to meet Draco's gaze.

"Why?"

The entire street seemed to go quiet. Draco wasn't sure why he had asked that question—he couldn't even remember thinking the question. But now that it had been asked, he found that he really did want an answer. Why the hell would Harry Potter ever willingly admit to having feelings for Draco Malfoy, and why the hell would he ever feel those feelings in the first place? It didn't make any sense. It made less sense than anything else ever had in Draco's nonsensical life—and he had had a noseless bigoted tyrant living in his fucking home, spending most of his time conversing with a giant snake, for Christ's sake!

No, Draco just could not understand it.

"I'm not really sure," Potter answered quietly, still swinging his gaze between Draco's face and the ground. "But I know that I do. Do you really need a reason? I mean, why does anybody like another person?"

"Potter, you have far more reasons to dislike me than to like me," Draco said, turning away. "I'm trying to believe that you're being genuine, but…I'm not sure I actually can believe it when you take our past into consideration."

"What if…" Potter hesitated for a moment before continuing, "what if I told you that I've liked you for a while?"

That got Draco's attention. His head snapped back toward Potter so quickly it hurt his neck. "What? What does even mean? How long is a while?"

"Er…" Potter flushed as he raised one hand to rake through his wild hair. "Well, I'm not sure when it actually started, but…sixth year, I suppose? Maybe the end of fifth? I mean—" he hurried to continue at the sight of Draco's mouth dropping open in shock, "don't get me wrong, I did genuinely hate you. Even at the same time I was…" his blush darkened alarmingly, "even at the same time I was, you know—" he looked absolutely mortified, "attracted to you. But then…"

"What changed?" Draco prodded, desperate to hear the end of the story.

"It was the bathroom," Potter whispered, eyes sliding shut.

"The bathroom?" Draco couldn't help the unexpected anger in his voice. "You started to develop feelings for me the same day you tried to fucking kill me?!"

"No!" Potter's eyes snapped open as a horrified expression crossed his face. "No, that's not how it happened! I found that spell in a book and all it said was that it was for enemies, I had no idea what it did! I honestly don't even know why I used it! There were a hundred other spells I could have used, but…but when you started trying to hit me with the Cruciatus, I just…I dunno, it just happened! I'm sorry, Draco, I should never have used it and I should never have followed you into that stupid bathroom in the first place!"

Draco stared at him in silence for what felt like a thousand painful heartbeats. "It's fine, Potter," he said finally, unable to remain upset at the brunet when he cheated by using Draco's first name as he stood there looking like the world's most remorseful puppy, if dogs were actually capable of expressing remorse. "I'm—" Draco took a deep breath to prepare himself for the agonizing and torturous ordeal of apologizing to another person, "I'm sorry as well for what I did." He released the breath, grateful to find that he had survived the apology intact and surely only grown stronger from the difficult and trying experience. "But I don't understand. Why would that incident lead you to start having feelings for me?"

"Well…" Potter turned away, staring down the street into the far distance, "can we keep walking?"

The question was unexpected and Draco didn't know what to say.

"I think this will be a bit easier if I'm moving," the other boy explained in a quiet voice. "Talking about this sort of stuff…it's hard for me to do while I'm standing still, you know?"

"Yeah," Draco agreed, feeling a similar sort of restless itch in his limbs.

They set off down the sidewalk once more, the pavement cast in soft yellow from the glowing lamps above their heads. The sun had long sunk out of sight and the butterscotch gold of the sky had faded fully into a deep azure, like a vast ocean stretched above their heads, and Draco glanced up, wondering what sort of strange creatures could be found in its bottomless depths.

"So," Potter began, and Draco returned his gaze back to the world around them. "So, I—er, I was—"

"You were answering my question," Draco reminded him, hands buried in the pockets of his borrowed leather jacket.

"Right." Potter sounded about as uncomfortable as Draco felt. "I, um…"

"I asked you how the incident in the bathroom led to your supposed feelings."

Potter frowned. "They really are real, Malfoy. I would never lie to someone about something like that."

Draco said nothing, ignoring the guilt as he simply waited for Potter to finally answer the question.

"I had never seen you cry like that," he blurted, and Draco halted in shock.

"What the hell does that even mean?" he asked in confusion. "It was my crying that you found attractive?" Christ, just what kind of dirty pervert was Harry Potter? What the hell had the Muggles who raised him done to him?

"No!" Potter shouted, biting his lip as he dropped his gaze and continued walking, and Draco had no choice but to catch up. "It was…you were…I had never seen you like that before, Draco. Ever. I'd seen you angry and upset and furious and afraid, but never…never like that. It just…it changed how I saw you. It changed everything about how I saw you. It somehow…made it easier to reconcile my existing attraction to you, I suppose, once I was able to start seeing you as an actual person with actual real feelings. And watching you bleed out all over the floor like that…" he swallowed heavily, refusing to look at Draco. "It was awful. It was one of the worst moments of my entire life. I couldn't stop thinking about it. And before it happened, I never would have guessed how upset it would have made me to think of you nearly dying. And that I had nearly been the one to kill you. But it did. And that's when I started realizing that…maybe physical attraction wasn't the only thing I felt for you. I just couldn't hate you anymore after that day."

"You really like me?" Draco still wasn't sure if he could believe it, but Potter seemed so embarrassed and sincere that it must be true.

He shrugged, face still red. "Why do you think I couldn't just let you die in the fire like that? I would never have risked my life going back for Crabbe."

"I never wanted to actually take you to the Dark Lord, you know," Draco blurted, needing Potter to understand what had really happened that day. "When we were in the Room of Hidden Things. I just wanted my wand back, and Crabbe and Goyle would never have gone with me if they didn't think there was going to be some sort of reward in it for them. They didn't really like me very much at that point, but I knew I had absolutely no chance of ever facing the three of you alone and actually succeeding, so I told them that's why we were there. That's why Crabbe kept trying to kill you, the stupid idiot. He and Goyle both thought that's why we were there, but it wasn't. I just wanted my wand, Potter."

A tiny smile lifted the corners of Potter's mouth. "Well, that's a relief," he said, sounding much less upset.

"God, how did we even get started talking about such horrible things?" Draco asked sarcastically, praying the conversation would return to less painful topics.

"What, you mean feelings?" Potter grinned, bumping Draco's shoulder, and Draco couldn't help but grin back.

"Exactly. Horrible things."

"You never answered my question, you know," Potter said, and Draco turned to him with a puzzled look. "About whether or not this is a date."

"Ah." Draco still didn't know how to respond, and sort of wished that Potter had forgotten all about the stupid unanswerable question. Honestly though, the needy git. But in order for Blaise's idiotic plan to work, Draco really did need to reply in the affirmative. After all, the whole plan hinged on both of them admitting to dating one another. "Well, I'm not sure if we can really consider this a date," he said slowly, wondering how Potter would react to what he was about to say at the same time he was terrified of saying such a thing.

"Why not?" Potter sounded confused and looked hurt, and Draco forced himself to continue.

"Because…" he took a deep breath, "don't dates always include a kiss? Isn't that…" he paused to blush, "isn't that sort of a requirement for a date?" Not that Draco would know, of course, not having been on an actual real date before. He had only ever kissed a grand total of two people, not counting Blaise during a game of truth-or-dare, but Draco had been trying his very hardest to repress that particular memory for years. Willingly, however, he had only ever kissed Pansy, several times throughout fifth and sixth years, and then Tracey twice during seventh year. God, what if Potter took the question as some sort of invitation to kiss Draco? What if it really was an invitation to kiss Draco? What if Draco was the world's worst kisser? What if Potter kissed him and decided it was gross and then threw up all over the blond? What if—

"Yeah," Potter said in an odd voice, pulling Draco to a stop. "It is a requirement, isn't it? And I think we really should follow all the rules if we're going to count today as a date."

"Right," Draco nodded. "Nobody follows rules better than the two of us, after all."

At that, Potter chuckled. "No, they definitely don't. I practically invented rule following."

"Just like I invented kindness and good manners," Draco grinned, and Potter laughed.

"Nobody does rule-following and good manners better than the two of us." As he spoke, Potter began to shift closer and closer, and Draco felt frozen in his emerald stare, the intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his proximity.

"Are you going to keep being sarcastic, Potter," Draco murmured, "or are you going to kiss me?" Some distant part of his mind wondered just when exactly he had become such an expert in faked flirting, while some other even more distant part of his mind wondered how much of the flirting was actually fake, but most of his mind was taken up with thoughts of what Potter would taste like, as well as fear at the thought of actually kissing Harry Potter. Oh, please Merlin, let Draco be a good kisser!

"I could be talented enough to do both at the same time, you don't know," Potter said softly, leaning in even closer, and Draco felt himself sway closer in response.

"Just stop talking already," Draco demanded, feeling frustrated at both his own confusion and the serious and extreme lack of kissing that has currently happening. Why was there so little kissing in his life at that moment?

Potter grinned. "Who knew impatience could be so endearing?"

"Christ, Potter, just shut up," Draco breathed, deciding that Potter's stupid talking had gone on long enough. What sort of idiot resisted a kiss from Draco after Draco had already given them permission?

Well, if Potter was going to insist on acting like a moron, then Draco would simply have to take matters into his own hands. Fingers trembling, he reached up to tangle one hand in Potter's onyx hair as he wrapped the other around the back of Potter's neck and tugged him forward; Potter gasped in the instant before their mouths met.

And then they were kissing. And everything in Draco's life was amazing.

Potter hummed in the back of his throat as he wrapped one arm around Draco's waist and pulled him closer; his right hand settled over Draco's collarbone as he sucked on Draco's lower lip, effectively trapping it between his own, but Draco was more than fine with it being trapped there. A breeze stirred Draco's hair, and he shivered at the excitement of standing on a public street where anyone could see them, kissing another boy. It was not something he had ever dreamed of or planned on doing, but now that it was happening, it was strangely exciting—possibly the most exciting thing to ever happen to anybody in the whole entire world, possibly even since the very creation of the whole entire world.

Draco was kissing Harry Potter. And even more exciting than that, Harry Potter was kissing Draco back.

What could have been five minutes or five centuries later, they separated, breathing heavily and staring at one another in surprise.

"Wow," Draco whispered, hoping Potter had not heard the single syllable, because Draco sure as hell had not meant to actually say it aloud.

"Yeah," Potter agreed, and Draco cursed Potter's stupidly good hearing. Why couldn't his hearing have been as poor as his eyesight? Potter tilted his head and smiled widely, his eyes dropping down the length of Draco's body and back up. "Have I told you yet how fucking hot you look in that goddamn jacket?"

Momentarily stunned speechless, Draco shook his head.

"Well, you do," Potter told him, still smiling. "You should never give it back to Blaise."

"Done," Draco agreed, liking anything that made Potter look at him like that, with such heat in his eyes.

"I still can't believe this is actually happening," Potter said quietly, and Draco couldn't help but agree with that one too.

"Now that we've had our kiss, what happens next?" Draco hoped it would be more kissing; that would be an acceptable thing to follow this first current round of kissing with. Potter-kissing might possibly even take the top of his "favorite things ever" list, right alongside being alive, and maybe even more than being imprisoned. Draco might possibly even take being punched if it meant he could keep kissing Potter whenever he liked.

"I dunno," Potter smiled. "It's getting pretty dark and I think people might be staring. Maybe we should go back to the castle."

"Right," Draco grinned. "We still have your old disgusting wardrobe to burn."

Potter shook his head in amusement. "Are you serious about that? You're really going to make me burn all my old clothes?"

Draco shrugged. "Let this be a lesson to you to take me seriously. You have all your new purchases with you, yes?"

Nodding, Potter patted his jacket pocket, where all his new purchases had been magically shrunk enough to fit.

"Well, then," Draco smiled, feeling reckless and bold as he leaned forward for one last stolen kiss that Potter barely had time to return. "Let's go become arsonists."

Potter laughed nervously. "Um, maybe we should save something like that for our second date. Give us something exciting to look forward to."

"Second date?" Draco heard his breath catch. A second date? Potter wanted a second date with Draco? And not only wanted it but was apparently already planning it.

It had worked—the plan had worked. Potter was even more in love with Draco than he had been before the date and was now actively planning a future for the two of them. It seemed that Draco really was every inch the champion flirter he knew he could be. After all, he had tricked Harry Potter into falling hopelessly and irreversibly in love with him—surely that made the blond some sort of grand master of seduction.

"Er, yeah," Potter flushed. "I mean, only if you want to. Would you want to?" He looked so ridiculously flustered and so endearingly hopeful that Draco could feel the normally thick and impenetrable walls he had constructed around himself and his own emotions crumble just a tiny bit in response.

I can't believe Blaise's stupid plan is actually working.

"Sure," Draco breathed. "Yeah. Yes. I—I would like that."

"Well, good," Potter grinned, sounding relieved. "That's definitely good. I can't wait to become an arsonist with you."

Draco couldn't help but smile at that. "As you should, Potter. I don't commit arson with just anyone, I'll have you know."

"Well, aren't I the special one then." Potter's smile was soft, his words were warm, and Draco felt the sudden urge to kiss him again.

It's just the plan, he thought vehemently. I clearly only want to kiss him to further Blaise's stupid horrid plan that I should never have bloody agreed to. I don't want Potter, I just want the stupid plan to work.

And maybe if Draco told himself that enough times, he might actually start to believe it.


A/N: Aaand that's the first date down, the precious 'lil things :) And don't worry, there's only so long that Draco can hold onto that denial. Self-delusion can only go so far before cracking.