The rest of the workweek passes without incident, and that's far more frustrating for Harry than he expects it to be. No truly distracting cases come up, so all he has to do is sit at his desk and think about Saturday, and it gets old. It gets old very, very quickly. He hardly even enjoys his weekly three pints with Ron and Dean at the Three Broomsticks, as he can think of little else but Draco sodding Malfoy, his practically glowing hair and impossibly straight teeth and full, pale pink lips and, well, what doesn't the man make look good?
"You should come back to the present, mate," says Ron two beers in. "It's nice here. Less thoughts of Malfoy's perfect posture."
Harry doesn't dignify Ron's comment with a response, as he's already gotten one of those in the form of a too-loud guffaw from Dean.
After a lengthy lie-in, shower, and pep talk with his ever-impossible hair, Harry makes his way over to Madam Malkin's on Saturday afternoon. He's 15 minutes early, but Draco's still beaten him there.
"Did you do something different to your hair?" Draco asks. "It looks less frightful than usual."
"How kind of you," says Harry. "I might have messed with it a bit more than I would on a normal day."
"Ah, so today's special, then?" Draco smiles at him sidelong as they begin browsing through the shop. "Why's that?"
"Well, there's this guy I kind of fancy, and we're meant to go out together tonight."
"Lucky man. What's he like? Devastatingly handsome, I imagine, and impossibly clever."
"Well, he's a bit of a prat, really," says Harry. "Exceedingly arrogant. Very fond of the sound of his own voice."
"Sounds like someone I could stand to get to know," Draco says. "We're running into a problem here, Harry."
"What's that?"
"I can't think of a color you'd look bad in."
Harry blushes. "Well, yellow's bad. And anything really bright, really."
"I mean a wearable color, of course," says Draco, rolling his eyes. "Obviously we're not wearing yellow or orange to this ... what are they calling it again?"
"The November Pre-Holiday Ball."
"Right. That. And no red or green, because that's tacky on multiple levels. No, I think we're sticking with a grey and blue and black palette. How does that sound to you?"
"Lead the way." Madam Malkin spots the two of them together and greets them warmly. Harry carries on a brief conversation with her while Draco, who seems to be on a mission of sorts, browses. He soon catches up with Draco, who thrusts a set of deep blue robes with grey accents at Harry.
"I think this'll do for you," says Draco. "Take a bit of focus off your eyes."
"What's wrong with my eyes?"
"Nothing, and that's the problem. When someone looks at you, it's about all they see. They're stunning, really." Harry feels his face reddening yet again and wonders if he'll ever stop blushing over Draco Malfoy. "And then they're not seeing everything else, which is equally pleasurable to look at. These'll help." He drapes the robes around Harry's shoulders and Madam Malkin rushes over to tailor them. Harry stands in front of the mirror and avoids Draco's approving gaze until Draco starts speaking and Harry recognizes how rude that would be to continue looking away.
"Did you see our article in the Prophet?" asks Draco.
"Oh, yeah, Hermione showed me," Harry says, smiling at the thought of the picture they'd put on the front page. It had been taken while they'd eaten sandwiches together earlier in the week. Draco was talking with his hands, as he often did when he had something important to say, and Harry was listening intently, a fond look on his face. "I liked the bit about the rumors of a whirlwind romance that are surrounding us."
"So did I. I had no idea such rumors existed."
"Well, people like good stories, and boyhood rivals, both somewhat prominent figures in the wizarding world, starting a torrid affair is a pretty good story."
Draco smiles at Harry and Harry wishes Madam Malkin weren't encircling his waist with her arms, pins in each hand, so he could ... well, he doesn't know exactly what he wants to do, but he knows it involves Draco and touching and maybe mouths in some way.
"So, what are you going to wear, then?"
Draco nods at a set of black robes edged with grey to Harry's left. "Those ones. That way we match without actually matching. Does that make sense?"
"Sure."
"These already fit you well, Mr. Potter," says Madam Malkin, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "And now they fit beautifully. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I would," Draco says, and Harry manages not to blush, but it's not easy. "Could you help me with these, then, Madam?"
Harry's about to ask Draco why he settled on black when he already seems to have plenty of perfectly fine black robes—and he looks good in anything, anyway, though Harry might not be ready to say that just yet—when he hears his name. He gives Draco an apologetic grin; Draco smiles and nods and Harry makes his way to the front of the shop.
"Getting ready for the ball, then?" Terry Boot grins at Harry, who's more than a little confused by the overly familiar greeting. He gets along fine with Terry, but they haven't had a conversation of much substance since Harry was dating Anthony. Anthony and Terry had been good friends in school and remained so.
"Yeah, actually, my date's getting fit for his robes right now," says Harry, gesturing toward Draco.
"Draco Malfoy, hm? I'm guessing Hermione had something do with that."
"You always were pretty bright. It was her idea partnering us, yeah." Harry feels himself smiling goofily but can't seem to hold it back.
"And you're happy with that?" Terry scrutinizes Harry, who feels a bit ill when Terry adds, "You know, Anthony was heartbroken when he saw the paper this week. Still drives him crazy, how things ended between the two of you."
"You mean how I broke up with him?" Harry looks to the store counter, where Draco is purchasing his new robes. He wonders how hard it would be to break away from this extraordinarily uncomfortable conversation.
"Well, yes, I suppose I do." Terry turns to look at Draco then looks back at Harry. "You know you could have him back whenever you wanted, right? He's not given up on you, even after what you did to him."
"But I don't want him back," says Harry. "I have what I want already."
"Him?" Draco's approaching now, and Terry's looking at him skeptically. "That's what you want? A celebrity fling of some kind with a famously volatile former Death Eater?"
"Terry, you are well out of order," says Harry. He hears his own voice shaking and doesn't care. "Draco—there's no reason for you to bring up something that happened so long ago. And you know what? I don't find him to be volatile. Not at all. He's kinder and cleverer than Anthony's ever been, and he's a damn sight more mature. I don't think Draco would send one of his mates after me to try and drag be back to him if I changed my mind."
"No, I don't think he would," says Draco, coming up and touching Harry on the shoulder. "I went ahead and paid for your robes. Did you want to take them off before we leave the shop, or would you like to leave them on for dinner? That's what I'm doing with mine."
"We're having dinner before?" Harry asks.
Draco laughs. "Of course we are. You think the food at these galas is sufficient as dinner?"
"Fair point. I'll wear them out, then. Boot." Harry nods at Terry stiffly and he and Harry exit the shop.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Draco asks. His hand is on Harry's shoulder again.
"Not much to say, really," says Harry, leaning into Draco slightly as they walk. Where they're going, Harry's not sure, but he's not in much mood to make decisions right now so he's fine being led by Draco. "My ex is sending people after me, trying to convince me that the decisions I make are worse than they'd be if I'd stuck with him, something I was never, ever going to do, considering how little I felt for him at any point in the relationship, and Boot forced me to defend what I've done when it really doesn't need a defense at all and oh, shit, I am talking about it, aren't I?"
Draco smiles at Harry softly. "Yeah, you are. But you should. You have a right to be upset. It's not a normal thing to do, send out scouts to find out if your old boyfriend wants to get back together." He pauses. "It did help me see that you are absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent over Goldstein, which wasn't so bad on my part. It was just a shit way of finding out."
"I'd never—Draco, I wouldn't go out with you if I was interested in someone else," says Harry.
"So you are interested, then."
Harry scoffs. "Of course I'm interested. Oh, thanks for covering the robes, by the way. I can buy you dinner if you'd like."
"I would like that, yes."
"And you?"
Draco looks confused. "And I what?"
"You're interested, too?"
"Don't make me say it out loud, Potter," says Draco. "Come with me. I know a place where we can get just drunk enough to enjoy ourselves all evening long."