Disclaimer: Everything recogniseable belongs to J.K. Rowling... The rest is from my own imagination.
"Harry!"
Harry's head snapped up in response.
Ron was standing in front of him with his hands on his hips, looking very annoyed. "What the bloody hell's gotten into you?"
"Sorry, just got a lot on my mind. What's up?"
"I'm hungry. Let's go get some lunch."
Harry rolled his eyes and got up from his desk. He'd sat down an hour ago to start on some of his paperwork, but his thoughts had strayed to Draco Malfoy. In all his life, he'd never imagined he'd be happy to know that he and Malfoy would be in the same place at the same time. Far less that it would be in his apartment and that he'd be cooking dinner for them both.
It had taken nearly a month of them running into each other all over the place, from work to Diagon Alley, even once in a Muggle grocery with Ron (after Hermione had bullied them into buying fruit and vegetables and other 'healthy' food), for Harry to realise that his attraction to Malfoy wasn't going to go away. Every time he'd spotted Malfoy, his feelings of intrigue had increased, his stomach seemed to disappear and his heart started to hammer in his chest.
They always seemed to spot each other at the same time, as though they'd been looking for each other. When Malfoy had approached to say hello, Harry found he could hardly speak. He'd gone straight to Hermione after the third incident. She was all-knowing and would tell him what to do.
"Hermione, what on earth could make me lose it so very easily when I see Malfoy?" he'd demanded one Saturday afternoon.
He was lying on her bed while she put away her laundry.
"You want to get in his trousers," she'd responded as she folded, not looking up from what she was doing.
"I most certainly do not!" he'd said indignantly. Oh, God. She could be right!
"Harry, you're gay, he's gay, you're hot and he's hot. Just get over yourself and ask him out for dinner or something."
"How d'you know he's gay?!" Harry asked her incredulously.
She'd grinned almost nastily and sat down next to him.
"Back at school in sixth year, I was doing the usual – looking through books in the Restricted Section of the library – when I heard some funny noises coming from one of the bookshelves, so of course I went to have a look. Well, upon turning the corner, who should I see but Draco Malfoy, pressed against a bookcase, being thoroughly kissed by Jonathan Moon."
Harry clapped his hands over his mouth.
"You're joking!" he said through his fingers. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Well, we were all a little bit preoccupied that year, weren't we? Besides, I don't think it's a good idea to go mouthing off on anyone's private business, even if it was Malfoy. Karma and all that, you know."
"I suppose it wouldn't have made a difference either way," Harry relented, feeling joy rise up inside him. "So, what are the odds he fancies me?"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I don't know, Harry. You'll have to find that out for yourself."
And so he had. Plucking up all the Gryffindor courage he possessed, he had gone to the third level corridor outside Malfoy's potions lab, and loitered by the water fountain, hoping he would emerge soon so Harry could ask him out before he lost his nerve.
"Hello, Harry, what's up?" Malfoy said, smiling brightly as he stepped out of his lab to encounter a decidedly nervous-looking Harry.
Harry took a deep breath. He was not going to mess this up by sounding like a teenager. It was just dinner after all.
"Hi, Draco. I just wanted to ask you if you'd like to have dinner with me on Friday night," Harry said with a smile, crossing his fingers inside his robe pockets.
Draco's cheeks pinked but he replied quite steadily. "Yes, I'd like that very much, thank you."
Harry uncrossed his fingers and grinned, feeling slightly weak-kneed.
"Okay, great. I'll see you later then." He turned and walked back towards the lifts. Halfway there, Draco stopped him.
"You forgot to tell me where we'll be eating," he said.
Harry felt warm and knew he was turning pink.
"I'm sorry, hang on, I'll write it down for you," he felt around his person looking for a piece of parchment and a quill.
Draco was suddenly very aware of where Harry's hands were moving – over his chest, his hips and his backside – and wished he could help Harry search too, only they'd forget they were even searching for anything as mundane as parchment if Draco had his way.
Harry pulled out a scrap of parchment from his back pocket.
"Can I borrow your quill?"
Draco took a second to register what he'd said and then thrust his quill at Harry. Their hands brushed slightly, and Draco felt a zing travel up his arm and wondered if Harry had felt it too; but his head was bent writing so Draco couldn't tell. Harry handed him the parchment and the quill, taking care to brush Draco's hand again, eager to feel his soft skin under his fingers once more.
"Thanks. I'll see you around then?" Draco said. Harry nodded and started off again in the direction of the lifts. He read the address for Harry's apartment scrawled untidily on the parchment.
What on earth am I going to wear? Draco thought.
Harry stood in front of his mirror, critiquing his appearance, while Ron lay sprawled out on Harry's bed among the countless articles of clothing he'd strewn everywhere while trying to find something spectacular.
"Mum always sent you green things to bring out your eyes or some rubbish. Why don't you just wear green?" Ron suggested, picking through Harry's clothes.
"Well, I suppose, but I always wear green. Where is your girlfriend when I need her?" Harry said, pulling off a navy blue shirt and picking out a dark green one from the fray on his bed.
"She is currently lying on her bed, wearing something very sexy, and waiting for me to arrive with a bottle of champagne and have my way with her, though I think there's dinner involved as well, so she could be cooking." Ron said.
Harry shuddered.
"That visual was unnecessary, mate. But speaking of dinner, could you go check the chicken and potatoes?"
Ron nodded and pushed himself off the bed and went to their kitchen.
Harry went into his bathroom and basted his underarms with deodorant, followed by a liberal spray with Steel Mod. He went back into the bedroom and slipped the green shirt back on, buttoned it up and went to join Ron in the kitchen, where he was cutting the chicken into parts with his wand.
"Thanks, Ron. I still have no idea how I'm actually going to eat any of this."
Ron grinned and pulled a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge and handed it to Harry.
"You're going to drink some of this and you're going to be fine." Ron turned off the oven and put the chicken back in to keep it warm. "Now I've got to go. I'll see you sometime tomorrow." He squeezed Harry's shoulder.
"Thanks for your help; I owe you one," Harry said. "Kiss Hermione for me."
Ron winked. "You owe me plenty, but I've lost count so don't worry about it."
Harry smiled and began levitating wine glasses out of the cupboard.
"And, Harry, you look great." Ron grinned and Disapparated with a loud crack.
Harry shook his head and poured himself a glass of wine. He really adored his best friend. He gulped the wine down quickly and went back into his bedroom to brush his hair.
"Well, thanks again for dinner, Harry. Who knew one person could benefit so much from half a life as a Muggle? And it feels like forever since I've had a home-cooked meal," Draco said.
Harry laughed and shrugged.
"It was my pleasure. To be honest, I really enjoy cooking which is kind of odd, considering how awful I was at Potions," he said, running a hand through his hair.
Such gorgeous dark hair, Draco thought, fighting the urge to reach out and touch it himself. Draco smiled at Harry.
"I, for one, support the argument that potions are far more complicated than they should be; and you can't possibly be that bad if you made it through Auror School."
Harry blushed and turned his emerald eyes downward.
That's right, Draco, just embarrass him and the kiss you want so very badly will just throw itself up from nowhere. Good job!
"Thanks," Harry mumbled. He looked back up at Draco sheepishly, licking his lips. His eyes had been particularly green that night; Draco imagined it was the effect of his green shirt. And, oh, how Draco wanted to lick Harry's lips too, in addition to other parts of his body…
Slapping himself mentally, he told himself to take it easy. He still wasn't sure how Harry felt about him. Their conversation through dinner had been very easy and amicable, but Draco couldn't tell if Harry really liked him. He had invited him for dinner, yes, and on a night that Ron wasn't around, but it could have just been coincidental and Harry was just being friendly.
Harry drained his glass of wine and set the glass down, feeling awkward. Their date had gone well. The food was good and the conversation, from what Harry remembered of it, went smoothly for two people who'd hardly ever done much by way of conversation except throw nasty words and curses at each other. But Harry had been far more interested in studying Draco than talking about anything serious or work-related. He'd watched how his mouth moved when he talked and chewed and drank, watched how his lips glistened and how he wiped his mouth. Harry thought he may not wash the napkin Draco had used. He wanted Draco to stay so he could watch him move all night. When he'd answered the door and greeted Draco, and he'd walked past, Harry almost lost it when he'd smelled Draco's cologne: Carolina Herrera's 212.
"Just give me a minute to clear up this stuff and then we can go have a seat in the living room," Harry said, getting up.
Draco stood up and began picking up plates.
"I'll help you," he said.
"It's okay. I've got it."
"I said, I'll help you." Draco winked at Harry and walked away.
Well if you say so... Harry followed him with the empty chicken dish.
"I think we could use another drink, though," Draco said.
"You could be right," Harry replied.
When Harry had finished loading the dishwasher and taken another bottle of wine out of the refrigerator, he and Draco went to sit on the couch in the living room, and they started up another conversation.
As the night wore on and they got more comfortable with each other, the topics changed from Quidditch and their jobs to their families (in Harry's case, the Weasleys) and friends, and they moved closer to each other on the couch, allowing their limbs to brush against each other, but they were yet to make major contact. The signs were good, but Harry still wasn't sure about Draco's feelings.
At three thirty, Draco had looked at his watch in surprise. He was lying perpendicular to Harry on the couch, his socked feet underneath Harry's legs, while Harry had been lazily stroking his calves while they talked.
"Wow, Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't realise how late it was. I should get going." He removed his feet from beneath Harry and bent down to retrieve his shoes.
Harry, who had been quite enjoying the sleepy, contented feeling, accompanied by their close proximity, was suddenly wide awake. He didn't want Draco to leave, and he especially didn't want him to leave without at least a goodnight kiss.
Draco stood up and picked up his jacket from the back of the sofa, but didn't put it on.
Well, this is promising... Harry thought.
Harry moved to kneel on the couch and looked up at Draco, who fumbled with the jacket in his hands and looked right into his eyes.
Harry got up from the couch and moved around the back towards Draco. He saw him draw in a breath, and when he didn't let it out, but continued to look into Harry's eyes as he stepped closer still, Harry knew. He could feel the tingling between them already, and his eyes flicked to Draco's mouth.
He drew his tongue across his lower lip and took a final step. They were eye to eye and Draco still hadn't breathed out.
Harry raised his hand and stroked Draco's warm cheek very softly, watching as his eyelids fluttered closed and his breath came out in a rush. He leaned forward, chills running up and down his spine, and captured Draco's lips with his own.
Draco groaned quietly as Harry's mouth made contact; he trembled and felt his knees weaken. He grabbed at the back of the couch to steady himself as he kissed Harry back, grazing his lips with his tongue. Harry opened his mouth and Draco began to explore, laving the inside of Harry's mouth, running over his teeth. Harry took Draco's face in his hands and pulled him closer so they were pressed against each other. Electricity ran through both their bodies as time seemed to stand still. Draco felt goosebumps erupt on his arms underneath the fabric of his shirt.
Harry was lapping at his tongue with his own, sending sparks of pleasure throughout his body. he hadn't felt like this in a long time. Harry's fingers were lightly scratching the back of his head, buried in his hair, and he wondered vaguely if he'd ever be able to keep his hands off of Harry in the future. Images of pressing him against the back of the lifts at the Ministry and doing unmentionable things to him floated into Draco's mind, and he squirmed involuntarily, lust stirring in his groin.
Oh, God… not now… not yet!
He moaned into Harry's mouth and pulled away gently, taking a step back and a deep breath. It was all he could do not to bend Harry over the back of the sofa after slowly removing every article of his clothing and tasting every inch of exposed flesh.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked.
Draco looked at him and groaned inwardly. His lips looked so inviting, so full and moist from their kiss.
"Yes, I'm fine. It's just… it's been a while. I don't want to mess this up…" Draco said quietly.
His last relationship had been over two years ago, and it had been all about the sex. He didn't want that for Harry and himself. He also wasn't certain whether it would even be a relationship, and furthermore, despite Harry's blatant aggression, he had the feeling from the way Harry spoke, that this was his first major encounter with another man. Draco wasn't about to put him off by demanding too much. If it worked out between him and Harry, he would wait for Harry to come to him.
He smiled at Harry and finally pulled on his jacket. Harry looked a little bit disappointed, but smiled back and led Draco to the door.
He hoped he hadn't done anything abnormal. He'd only ever been with a few men, very fleetingly, back in school, and he'd never gotten any complaints, but this was Draco Malfoy.
Draco stopped him at the door.
"Thanks again, Harry," he said.
"You're welcome," Harry replied.
"Why don't we do this again tomorrow? But this time, I'll take you out," Draco said.
Harry looked a little more cheerful at this suggestion.
"Okay, sounds good," he said.
Draco leaned across and kissed him gently on the lips.
"Meet me in the Leaky Cauldron at eight tomorrow night."
Draco kissed Harry again and Disapparated from the doorway.