After being forced to Side-Along-Apparate to a French cafe in Wizarding London, Draco was actually grateful for the nice meal. That was two days in a row that he got a decent meal, and it wasn't bad company. "You like it here?" Harry asked, sitting down, and studying Draco's face intently.
"Well," Draco pursed his lips, "it's a little...flamboyant for my tastes, but nevertheless, it's lovely. A little romantic, perhaps, but quaint." He picked up a menu, and scanned the first side.
"It's all in French," Harry cursed, "I completely forgot." Harry was sad for a moment, and Draco noticed.
"Is something the matter? Do you not speak French?" He asked, resting the menu down on the clothed table.
"Well, I speak a little; not nearly enough, but a little. I used to take Ginny here," he frowned sadly, "I haven't thought about our time here for a long while."
"Do you miss her?" Draco knew he was overstepping his boundries, but wanted to know.
"Kind of," Harry furrowed his brow, more concentrating on the French than the conversation, "I miss the idea of her more than I miss her. I mean, we're still close, so there isn't much to miss. Just... not even the sex, you know?" He looked at Draco seriously.
"I wouldn't know, Mister Potter-"
"Harry-"
"-I haven't since seventh year."
"Oh," Harry blushed, and busied himself with the menu. "Do you speak French?"
"Me? I'm fluent," Draco said shyly, reading his own menu.
"Can you translate for me?"
"Sure! What did you want me to read?"
"Uh, all of it?"
"Well, what do you fancy?"
"Gosh, everything."
"Seriously?"
"I'm hungry!"
"Well, how about a salad? Or a sandwich? Soup?"
"Any more 'S's?" Harry smirked.
"They have a nice special today," Draco pointed to the blackboard above the counter, "I mean, it's actually an Italian dish, but they've Frenched it up a little."
Harry caught his breath as Draco called the waiter over. "Bonjour!" The waiter nodded at the pair, "une date?"
"Ah! Non!" Draco smiled sadly, and Harry looked on in amazement, "nous ne sommes que d'amis. Je travaille avec lui." Harry looked at Draco quizzically, and his fists tightened at the look of the dashing blond's jaw line, moving quickly as he spoke fluently. Even his Adam's Apple was joining in on the fun.
After a few minutes of chatter, Harry hissed, "what are you saying?" Draco paused his fluid conversation with the handsome waiter, and looked back at Harry.
"Oh," Draco blushed furiously, "I'm just explaining that we're from the Ministry. He says he has family that works there."
"Ah," Harry sat back in his chair, and watched Draco order.
"-deux verres d'eau gazeuse. Et, un sandwich du fromage pour moi. Merci." Draco turned his skeletal face to Harry, and smiled. "All ordered! I think you'll like what you've got, actually. Father used to have it made for mother-" He paused, and then his shoulders sagged. He hadn't thought of his parents since his mother had fled.
"Hey," Harry leaned forwards, and smiled empathetically towards Draco, "you don't have to bottle it up, and you don't have to forget."
"It's still sore, that's all." Draco sighed.
"I understand," Harry cracked his knuckles.
"Thank you for this," Draco said quietly, accepting his drink when it came over.
"Merci?" Harry half said, half asked the waiter.
"Oui, Harry Potter," the waiter chuckled, and went back to the bar to clean up.
"Why are you thankful?" Harry asked, running a hand through his hair. Whenever he did that, Draco found, he was lost for words.
Not a good time to be lost for words, though, was it? "Uh," he mumbled.
"Draco?" Harry grinned, and clicked in a teasing manner.
"Oh," Draco shook his head a little, and blushed. "It's just, well, I don't really get to do this, or even eat at home..."
"I thought you didn't live in the manor?" Harry picked up his glass, and waited for an answer to his rhetorical question.
"I don't," Draco frowned, "I live in a poultry bedsit in London owned by a rather mean squib," he found himself complaining. "It's not even that he dislikes me! He hates everyone!" Draco hung his head, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't burden you."
Harry hesitated, debating on whether or not he should speak next. He decided to, "I'm not just your boss, Draco. I'm your friend, if you want me."
Draco looked up, and found himself captivated by two emerald pools. "Well," he managed, "of course. But you don't have to; it's bad publicity to be friends with an ex-Death Eater." Draco pointed out painfully.
"Hey," Harry's voice was soft, "you're better than that. I can see that now."
Draco felt a burning blush in his cheeks, and he quickly drunk some of his sparkling water. "You're too kind, Mister Potter."
"Okay," Harry grumbled, "there are certain circumstances where calling me 'Mister Potter' is acceptable- a respectable lunch date is not one of them."
"Date?" Draco raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow in jest, and surpressed a giggle as Harry turned red.
"Well, not a date date, just a- you know- two collegues going out for lunch. Discussing work, eating things, the Auror business." Harry coughed awkwardly, and rubbed his eyes from under his glasses.
"Tired?" Draco asked.
"When Daisy Clearwater asks you on a date, you know you're not sleeping." Harry scoffed, "what was I thinking?"
"Uh," Draco bit his lip in thought, "maybe you were trying to hide something?"
Harry sent Draco a death glare. "Listen, what you saw- yes, it's me, but it's something I want to keep quiet. I gave you this job to shut you up, but I'm not going to fire you if you tell someone. So go ahead, tell the world." He smiled distantly, "maybe it'd make things easier."
"What do you mean?" Draco inquired.
"Oh, don't listen to me." Harry waved a hand dismissively, "I'm just tired."
"At least you own the bed you sleep on," Draco smirked joyfully.
"Oh yeah? Did you live in a cupboard for eleven years?"
"No, but I lived a closet for longer," Draco muttered bitterly.
"Oh," Harry looked shocked, "I didn't know-"
"Not many people do, I'm afraid. I'm supposed to marry a Greengrass, have plently of spawn of my own, get old, get rich, and die unhappily."
"Well- I'd rather that than be expected to save the world," Harry laughed.
"Yeah," Draco nodded sadly, "me too."